FREDERICK
 
 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL
 
 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL 
 
 BY 
 
 JOSEPH HATTON 
 
 AUTHOR OF "CLYTIE," " CRUEL LONDON," " QUEEN OF BOHEMIA, 
 " THREE RECRUITS," " THE GREAT WORLD," " MY ENEMY'S 
 DAUGHTER." " BY ORDER OF THE CZAR," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 104 & 106 FOURTH AVENUE
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE BELLE OF HEART'S DELIGHT, i 
 
 II. AFTER THE FISHING FLEET HAD SAILED, . . 9 
 
 III. AROUND A WINTER FIRE, ig 
 
 IV. "To YOUR TENTS, O ISRAEL!" .... 25 
 V. COUNCILS OF PEACE AND WAR, 34 
 
 VI. FOR THE SAKE OF THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN, . 39 
 
 VII. TREACHERY, 46 
 
 VIII. WOMAN'S INSTINCT, 49 
 
 IX. A CRUEL CONSPIRACY, 58 
 
 X. PAT DOOLAN TO THE RESCUE, .... 63 
 
 XI. MUTINY, ......... 72 
 
 XII. How THE KING'S MEN MADE REBELS, ... 77 
 
 XIII. IN THE SHADOW OF THE FOREST PRIMEVAL, . . 88 
 
 XIV. A PRISONER, AND IN IRONS, . . . . , . 95 
 XV. SIGNALS OF FRIENDSHIP AND DANGER, . . . 105 
 
 XVI. BOWERS THE SILENT DELIVERS HIS MESSAGE, . 114 
 XVII. GRIM OFFERINGS TO THE HOUSEHOLD GODS OF HEART'S 
 
 DELIGHT, ........ 119 
 
 XVIII. THE TRAGIC REVOLT OF ALAN KEITH, . . . 132 
 
 XIX. THE MYSTERIES OF WILDERNESS CREEK, . . 145 
 
 XX. ONE FRIEND AND MANY FOES, 151 
 
 XXI. GHOSTS OF HEART'S DELIGHT, .... 161 
 
 XXII. DAVID'S SWEETHEART, 169 
 
 XXIII. DAVID TELLS ELMIRA OF HIS MISSION TO NEWFOUND- 
 
 LAND, 182 
 
 XXIV. "'TWAS DOWN IN CUPID'S GARDEN," . . . 187
 
 'V CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGfi 
 
 XXV. "BREAKERS AHEAD!" 196 
 
 XXVI. MILDRED HOPE, 210 
 
 XXVII. DAVID KEITH AT HOME IN HARTLEY'S Row, . 217 
 
 XXVIII. "THE MAD ENGLISHMAN OF VENICE," . . 227 
 
 XXIX. A DREAMER OF DREAMS, 240 
 
 XXX. BAD OMENS FOR THE " MORNING STAR," . . 252 
 XXXI. "WAS LOST AND is FOUND; WAS DEAD AND is 
 
 ALIVE AGAIN," 259 
 
 XXXII. "ALWAYS TO-MORROW," 273 
 
 XXXIII. THE BLISS OF LOOKING FORWARD, ... 281 
 
 XXXIV. THE RAKE'S PROGRESS, 287 
 
 XXXV. HE CALLED IT LOVE, 294 
 
 XXXVI. HARRY BARKSTEAD'S LATEST CONQUEST, . . 305 
 
 XXXVII. THE COUNTRY BEAUTY IN TOWN, . . . 318 
 
 XXXVIII. " SIR, You ARE A BLACK-HEARTED SCOUNDREL," . 322 
 
 XXXIX. A WRECK ASHORE, ...... 328 
 
 XL. A SURPRISE FOR HARTLEY'S Row, .... 334 
 
 XLI. DAVID KEITH AND HARRY BARKSTEAD MEET 
 
 AGAIN, 340 
 
 XLII. THE WATCHMAN'S LANTERN, .... 347 
 
 XLI 1 1. THROUGH THE VALLEY, 353 
 
 XLIV. A BAD DREAM WITH A LOVELY IMAGE IN IT, . 360 
 
 XLV. THE PATIENCE OF ZACCHEUS WEBB, . . .. 366 
 
 XLVI. ALL ON A SUMMER'S DAY, 376 
 
 XLVII. THE BURIED TREASURE, 380 
 
 XLVIII. DAVID'S WIFE 394 
 
 XLIX. A HAPPY FAMILY, 401
 
 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL 
 
 PART I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BELLE OF HEART'S DELIGHT. 
 
 As the stony wilderness of some barren strand is unex- 
 pectedly decorated with a flower, so did Hannah Plympton 
 dawn upon the uncouth community of Heart's Delight. A 
 blush rose from the stock of a Devonshire garden, she 
 adorned the waste of a Newfoundland settlement in the 
 youngest days of the oldest British Colony. 
 
 Newfoundland had secret ties for some of the early 
 settlers. Alan Keith was held there by his love for Han- 
 nah Plympton. That was his secret. Season after season, 
 when he should have gone home with the fishing fleet, he 
 lingered on the shores of Heart's Delight. Father, friends, 
 home, religion, all were sacrificed to Hannah Plympton, 
 and yet he had made no confession of his love. Hannah 
 was not only the belle of Heart's Delight, she was its good 
 angel, and, while ambitious to win her for his wife, Alan 
 could only regard his desire as rash and presumptuous. It 
 should be the reward of some gallant cavalier, or mighty 
 sea captain who had fought a great battle, to gather the 
 blush rose of Heart's Delight. And if such a hero had 
 appeared Alan would have liked nothing better than to 
 wager his life against him for the prize.
 
 2 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 Furthermore, Hannah had come to be regarded as the 
 daughter of the little community. She had a father who 
 was looked upon as the founder and master of the settle- 
 ment, but she was everybody's friend and neighbor. Her 
 mother had died when Hannah was an infant. David 
 Plympton, her father, had brought her from St. John's to 
 the smaller settlement in the first days of her girlhood. 
 He had inherited certain territorial rights in the natural 
 harbor of Heart's Delight. The people had gathered round 
 him, and the girl had grown up with the colony. She was 
 an example of the heredity of English beauty, and a type 
 of its nobility. The men of Heart's Delight felt the better 
 for her ingenuous smile. The women were proud of her 
 beauty. It made the men shy. They revered it; all of 
 them except one. He was the shadow on her life, and she 
 knew it not. 
 
 To dwell upon the beauty of Hannah is not necessarily 
 to discount the comeliness of the other women of the 
 colony. They had come from all parts of the old country, 
 companions of adventurous men. Some of them were ill- 
 favored, others brought pleasant faces, and all of them 
 courageous hearts to the planting of the young colony. 
 Hannah Plympton's manners were just as frank and free 
 as theirs. There were no society airs at Heart's Delight, 
 no assertion of caste, no assumption of superiority; all were 
 equal in the unwritten laws of the place, except in so far as 
 a masterful individuality marked this man, or a natural 
 grace this woman, and these are factors of influence in all 
 communities, whatever the dispensation under which they 
 live. Hannah and her father held the foremost rank, not 
 alone by reason of acknowledged rights the father's prop- 
 erty and the daughter's beauty; they were born with less 
 limitations, physical and intellectual, than their neighbors, 
 and the community unconsciously recognized the fact. 
 
 The superiority of Hannah was conceded without any
 
 THE BELLE OF HEART'S DELIGHT. 3 
 
 assumption of it on her part. She lived the life of the 
 other women. She did not shrink from physical labor. 
 She did her share of domestic work. She helped to bake 
 and brew, and took a hand at braiding nets. Yet her hands 
 were white and her complexion, not counting a freckle here 
 and there, bore the heat and brunt of the day without losing 
 its freshness and a certain delicacy of tint that is supposed 
 to belong, almost exclusively, to ladies of the highest rank. 
 There are women who never lose the distinctive beauty of a 
 rich and fair complexion, give them the labor of the 
 kitchen, the factory, or the field; just as the rose will 
 blossom fresh and fair and sweet in the humblest envi- 
 ronment. 
 
 The Plymptons hailed from Devonshire. Alan Keith 
 came from Perth. David was the oldest colonist, Alan the 
 youngest. Alan was a bright, clever fellow, of fine build, 
 with long swinging arms, and great powerful hands. Awk- 
 ward perhaps, as tall, strong men often are, but wonder- 
 fully handy; a famous sailor, with a big genial laugh; 
 tender-hearted, but hot in temper; bared his throat to the 
 weather even in winter; wore long, heavy boots, a rough 
 jerkin and belt, with a slouch hat, and a blue neckerchief 
 that had long, flying ends, like the streamers of a ship. 
 David Plympton was the master of the village. The settle- 
 ment needed a guiding hand; David's was the strongest. 
 It wielded an unquestioned authority. He had no official 
 power, none in the least. They were a free and independ- 
 ent community when the Fishing Admirals had sailed away 
 after every year's harvest of the sea ; too free, too inde- 
 pendent, for then every man was as good as another. 
 They had no covenant, no police, and no laws for police to 
 enforce. England knew them not out of the fishing season, 
 and so it came to pass that David Plympton ruled in Heart's 
 Delight. 
 
 Brood in secret as he might over a love too deep for
 
 4 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 words, Hannah knew of it. Trust a woman, however 
 unsophisticated, to discover the passion of the most secre- 
 tive and constrained of lovers. But Hannah did not know 
 that this was a case of love at first sight; that Alan on his first 
 trip to Newfoundland, three years previously, had bribed his 
 captain to leave him at the fisheries, and all for love of her. 
 Alan was no ordinary fisherman. He had prospects and 
 expectations in Perth. He could have been a master him- 
 self, if he had chosen to go home. He had been well 
 trained so far as the sea was concerned. A clever mariner, 
 he was also a keen and successful fisherman. Hannah 
 delighted tohear Alan talk with his pleasant Scotch accent, 
 and he was fascinated with her soft, sweet voice. Both 
 Plympton and his daughter spoke with something of the 
 dialect of Drake and Frobisher; and Plympton gloried in 
 this reminiscence of his native county. 
 
 Alan had built himself a hut not far from the Great House 
 where Plympton lived, and he would sit on summer nights 
 smoking and watching Hannah's window until the light 
 went out, dreaming all kinds of schemes for approaching 
 what always seemed to him the impossibility upon which 
 his heart was set. On her side Hannah encouraged the 
 praises showered upon Alan by Sally Mumford, her one 
 single domestic, who with Patrick Doolan shared with her 
 the duties and responsibilities of the Great House the 
 fishing stage, and the fish flakes, not to mention the garden 
 patch that belonged to the Plympton domain. 
 
 It was in the days of the third George of England when 
 the personal history of our story begins. They were turbu- 
 lent times. Indeed the times had been turbulent for many 
 a long year. Looking back with the guide of a systema- 
 tized history, England seemed to be doing little else than 
 fight and make peace, and fight and make peace again. 
 Treaties of amity and declarations of war followed at inter- 
 vals in regular succession. Our foes only made peace
 
 THE BELLE OF HEART'S DELIGHT. $ 
 
 when they could fight no longer ; to break their treaties as 
 soon as they had made fresh alliances and deemed them- 
 selves strong once more, or the English sufficiently weak 
 for attack. 
 
 So far the history of the past; so far the history of the 
 time when Alan Keith pondered over his daring venture of 
 proposing to Master Plympton for the hand of his daughter 
 Hannah. 
 
 The scene was the little fishing village of Heart's Delight, 
 not many miles from St.. John's, Newfoundland, with its 
 rough stages and fish flakes for drying cod and its few scat- 
 tered homes and bits of garden. 
 
 At one time this seed of a colony had promised to flour- 
 ish. It was almost the first settlement that had been 
 permitted to exist under the rights and privileges granted 
 to the first pioneer; but in the days of David Plympton, 
 Newfoundland was subject to a systematic persecution, 
 which, in the light of the present time, seems as strange and 
 unnatural as it was short-sighted and cruel. 
 
 When the first pioneer, Sir David Kirke, was restored to 
 the rights given and taken back and finally re-endowed by 
 Cromwell, the entire island of Newfoundland contained a 
 population of three hundred and fifty families, or about two 
 thousand inhabitants, scattered in fifteen small settlements, 
 one of which Plympton's father, an original settler, had 
 called Heart's Delight. They were the resident community. 
 
 Besides these, there was a floating population of several 
 thousands, who arrived in summer to fish, and left with the 
 autumn. Hundreds of vessels from England, and many 
 from France, anchored at the fisheries and salted their takes 
 ashore. As far as the English were concerned, the fish- 
 eries were carried on by merchants and shipowners and 
 traders from the West of England. They were hostile to 
 the settlers, regarding them as interlopers. They claimed the 
 harbors and coves for the use of their servants while engaged
 
 6 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 in curing fish. So great did their influence become that they 
 induced the home government to make repressive laws, by 
 which the act of planting became illegal, and the island was 
 administered periodically as a training ground for the navy. 
 
 Settlement of any kind was prohibited within six miles of 
 the shore, and this was intended to apply to the existing 
 residents, any others being forbidden to proceed to the 
 country for the purposes of colonization. All fishermen 
 were commanded at the close of each season to return to 
 England. Masters of vessels were bound in money fines of 
 a serious amount to carry back to the old country such 
 persons as they took out, and all plantations in Newfound- 
 land were rigorously discouraged. 
 
 A hundred years ago the governor for the time being 
 sharply rebuked a sheriff for having, during his absence, 
 permitted a resident to erect a fence; ordered certain sheds 
 or huts, erected as shelters, to be removed; and prohibited 
 the erection of chimneys to other huts, or even the lighting 
 of fires therein under any pretense whatever. It was 
 enacted that the master of the first ship arriving at the 
 fisheries from England should be admiral in the harbor 
 where he cast anchor, the masters of the second and third 
 to be vice admiral and rear admiral. The first had the 
 privilege of reserving as much of the beach as he required 
 for his own use. These men, servants of the capitalists, or 
 owners of ships themselves, had a direct interest in ques- 
 tions of property and other social and political matters that 
 came before them in their magisterial capacities. They 
 dispensed what they called justice on the decks of their 
 vessels. Disputes, arising between the inhabitants and the 
 migratory fishing folks, were adjudicated by the fishing 
 admirals. In the eyes of these judges the highest offense a 
 man could be guilty of was the cultivation of the soil or the 
 building of a house. They took, without hesitation, such 
 buildings for their own use or destroyed them, and com-
 
 THE BELLE OF HEART'S DELIGHT. 7 
 
 mitted all kinds of excesses against the person as well as 
 against property. 
 
 In the autumn they sailed away with all their crews and 
 servants, leaving the settlements without even a semblance 
 of law or order ; some of them in a state of anarchy and a 
 prey to lawless adventurers, others, however, blessed with 
 good strong men capable of leading their fellows and main- 
 taining order. Of such were Alan Keith and Master David 
 Plympton of Heart's Delight; Keith, a young Scotch 
 mariner and fisherman; Plympton, one of the few who had 
 been secured in his rights through his father from Sir David 
 Kirke, to whom Newfoundland was a royal grant for 
 services to his country on land and sea. But such had 
 been the excesses of the Fishing Admirals, and such the 
 neglect of the high authorities at home, that Plympton 
 began to fear for his inheritance, and to think of leaving 
 the island with such possessions as he could carry, in bonds 
 and notes and receipts for bank deposits in England. 
 
 Moreover, Newfoundland, besides the disabilities which 
 she suffered by reason of the Fishing Admirals, had latterly 
 more than usually labored under the disadvantages of her 
 position as a more or less unprotected settlement, lying at 
 the mercy of French cruisers and American privateers. 
 Troubles with America had stopped the Newfoundland 
 supplies from New England; and there was no knowing 
 what would be the result of the latest conflict. Plympton 
 was pessimistic in his views. This arose chiefly out of 
 anxiety for his daughter, who, in an uncomfortable way, 
 and to her sorrow, had been subjected to the rough admira- 
 tion of such unexpected and powerful visitors as occasion- 
 ally put into Heart's Delight only recently a daring 
 company of officers and men from a Salem warship, and on 
 another occasion the master of an armed Frenchman, more 
 like a pirate than a legitimate vessel of war. 
 
 It did not always happen that there were English cruisers 
 off Newfoundland to protect the inhabitants, and, indeed,
 
 8 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 so bitterly opposed were the government to the settlement, 
 except for the uses of the fishery and the training of sailors 
 for the fleet, that it is probable that Heart's Delight was 
 hardly known to the English cruisers, or if it was, they 
 would have no special instructions as to the insignificant 
 interests of such a lawless plantation. 
 
 Watching Hannah grow to womanhood, and feeling that 
 any day the control of Heart's Delight might fall away 
 from him, and that Hannah might be a source of some 
 trouble which he could not define, the master began to long 
 for rest and security. Already, without having told anyone 
 of the circumstance, he had had a serious altercation with 
 one Lester Bentz, who had recently established a fishing 
 station at Heart's Delight with the governor's permission. 
 Lester Bentz was supposed to be a dissenter of the acute 
 type, a Puritan of pronounced views. He had taken excep- 
 tion to the local influence of Father Lavello, and, remon- 
 strated with by Plympton, had followed him home, and on 
 the threshold of the Great House had offered him a com- 
 promise. "Give me thy daughter Hannah," he had said, 
 "and I will be neuter. I don't say that I would not even 
 join thy Church; so deep is my love for the maiden, so 
 powerfully hath she ensnared my heart!" 
 
 "Promise me," Plympton had said, taking Bentz by the 
 throat, "that you will never dare to say a word of this to 
 my daughter; that you will never dare so much as to look 
 at her; or by the Church you insult I will bait the wolf-traps 
 with your wretched carcass!" 
 
 Lester Bentz had promised and kept his vow; but he 
 hoped for an opportunity to be revenged on both Plympton 
 and his daughter. 
 
 It will be seen, therefore, by the most casual reader of 
 this opening chapter of a romantic and tragic history, that 
 the time was in every respect favorable for Alan Keith to 
 disclose the secret of his love for the belle of Heart's 
 Delight.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AFTER THE FISHING FLEET HAD SAILED. 
 
 ON a fine autumn evening, at the close of the fisheries, 
 when the last ship had raised her anchor and sailed away, 
 Alan Keith and Master Plympton sat in the porch of what 
 was called the Great House, in the pleasant harbor of 
 Heart's Delight. 
 
 The title of the Plympton home was, however, the great- 
 est thing about it. Greatness is a matter of comparison. 
 By comparison with the other dwellings of Heart's Delight, 
 Plympton's, it is true, was quite a mansion. For all that, 
 compared with what we in England regard as a great house, 
 it was no better than a hut. It was a sort of log bungalow, 
 a pioneer's abode, on the frontiers of civilization. It had 
 no upper story, but consisted of a series of chambers, with 
 one general living room, that was kitchen and drawing 
 room in one. It was better furnished than might have been 
 expected. On one side of the room there was a great old 
 dresser from Devonshire; on the other a dower-chest full of 
 linen that had belonged to Hannah's grandmother. It had 
 been brought over to Heart's Delight in one of the fishing 
 vessels from Dartmouth. The south side, facing the harbor, 
 was partly filled with a bay window, the lower half of which 
 was a cushioned seat, covered with skins and rugs. On the 
 opposite side of the room was the ingle-nook, with a home- 
 made settle, the production of a local carpenter. The 
 pride of the place was an eight-day clock in a Spanish 
 mahogany case, polished to the very extremity of polish, the 
 clock face having almost as beaming a countenance as Pat
 
 10 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Doolan himself. It had dials for showing the operations of 
 the sun and moon, and figures for the days of the month. 
 Doolan declared that, when it struck the hour, he was 
 reminded of the church bells of his native village. Even 
 Father Lavello complimented the eight-day clock, which 
 tick-tacked through many a pleasant hour on winter even- 
 ings, and seemed to rejoice in the local happiness and also 
 to sympathize with its troubles. 
 
 On the walls of this chief room in the Great House were 
 hung skins of beasts and birds; muskets and pistols; not to 
 mention a couple of old cavalry swords ; a picture of Dart- 
 mouth, the ancestral home of the Plymptons; and a sampler 
 which had been worked by Hannah's mother. The floor 
 was thickly laid with balks of timber that were freshly 
 sanded every day. The window panes were small and 
 glazed with leaded glass, opening in sections for air and 
 sun. The doorway had a wide porch, flanked by a couple 
 of benches, upon which the owner and Alan Keith were 
 chatting on this autumn evening of our story, while Hannah 
 was helping her one domestic and Patrick Doolan (who had 
 been in the old days Master Plympton's boatswain) to 
 prepare supper. 
 
 "No, Alan," said the master, looking seaward, a habit 
 with him when unusually serious, "I do not think the out- 
 look promising; that is, in a pleasant way; promising, 
 perhaps, as you nevertheless see it." 
 
 "I wouldna presume to dispute wi' ye," said Alan, 
 "but for all that I dinna see what's wrang wi' the 
 future." 
 
 "You lead a busy life, Alan; you don't give much time 
 to meditation, and you have only been in the country three 
 years." 
 
 "Is it sae long?" said Alan, thinking at the moment of 
 the time he had wasted, not having the courage to let Han- 
 nah know the state of his feelings,
 
 AFTER THE FISHING FLEET HAS SAILED. II 
 
 "So long!" said the master, "and I have lived here 
 nearly all my life." 
 
 "I was not exactly thinking of time in the concrete, but 
 in the abstract," said Alan, thrusting his hands into his 
 great belt. 
 
 "I don't understand you," said Plympton, turning his 
 kindly but anxious face toward his friend and neighbor. 
 
 "Weel, I dinna wonder at that," Alan replied, smiling. 
 "I dinna quite understand mysel'; but I do think some- 
 times, ay, oftener than ye imagine; and I have come to the 
 conclusion that Newfoundland's the place for a man to 
 stand by; it cannot fail to have a grand future." 
 
 "Then we are thinking in very opposite directions," said 
 Plympton, stroking his clean-shaven chin. "I was thinking 
 that it had become a good place to quit; I was thinking of 
 home." 
 
 "Hame!" exclaimed Alan, the weight of whose Scotch 
 accent was more or less intermittent according as his feel- 
 ings moved him and the reader must understand that in 
 this record it is only intended to suggest his vernacular, so 
 that the most Southern readers may not be confused with 
 an attempt on the part of the writer to be superlatively char- 
 acteristic in the matter of dialects, or so realistic that he 
 cannot be understood. "Hame!" repeated Alan; "dinna 
 ye consider Heart's Delight hame? Ye hae never lived 
 anywhere else, eh?" 
 
 "Only as a boy at St. John's; but I have seen the land 
 of my fathers; it is very sweet, and of a mild and gentle 
 temperature. And look you at yonder picture hanging 
 over my father's musket, is it not like a bit of para- 
 dise? It is true I was born on this island that tries 
 to think it is a settlement. But I am getting weary 
 of its uncertainties." 
 
 "Eh, man, dinna say that," Alan replied, taking his 
 hands from his belt and rubbing his knees nervously. "I
 
 12 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 seem to hear just the deathknell of all my hopes when ye 
 talk like that." 
 
 "And what are your hopes, Alan?" asked Plympton, 
 looking the young fellow steadily in the eye. 
 
 "What are they?" said Alan, unable to bear the inquir- 
 ing gaze of his host. 
 
 "'Yes, what are they? Don't get up, man. Are you 
 ashamed of your ambition?" 
 
 Alan had risen to lean his back against the doorpost and 
 blush. There was no mistake about the blush. Master 
 Plympton noted Alan's confusion. 
 
 "I canna tell whether I am or no," Alan replied. 
 
 "Then out with it, man ! Have we lived as friends and 
 neighbors these three years and yet there is no confidence 
 between us?" 
 
 "I'm but a poor fisherman," said Alan, "and much 
 beholden to ye for the kindness ye've shown me. I might 
 have gone hame, it's true, and perhaps have done better wi' 
 a bit craft o' my ain; but there, what's the gude talking? 
 a man never knaws what's best for him to do. But ye say 
 I dinna think; I tell ye, Master Plympton, I hae thought a 
 good deal about this country; I hae seen a many miles of it 
 on the coast and inland; there is not a creek or a bay, not 
 a bit of the coast that I dinna ken; there's every kind o' 
 treasure for the adventurer and explorer in these regions; far 
 inland there's a climate as fine as ye could wish, and many 
 fruits and flowers, and I make nae doubt of mineral treasures 
 that would be worth all your bonnie county o' Devon from 
 shore to shore, asking your pardon for saying so." 
 
 "Why, Alan," said Plympton, turning round, to catch 
 the expression of Alan's averted face, "what has happened? 
 You talk like a man of ideas, and as you speak I could almost 
 fancy I hear my poor father talking, for he was enthusiastic 
 about Newfoundland. But why have you not said these 
 things to me before?"
 
 AFTER THE FISHING FLEET HAD SAILED. 13 
 
 "I dinnaken," said Alan, "I suppose I am a coward; or 
 may be, it's ingratitude; the auld proverb says, 'Ye put a 
 snake into yer bosom, and it stings ye.' ' 
 
 Plympton was a thoughtful man. He loved books, 
 though he had only a few; and he believed he understood 
 character. His appearance, while it invited confidence, 
 demanded respect. Alan always regarded him as a superior 
 being. He talked something like a dominie, Alan thought 
 with correct emphasis and pronunciation. Even when 
 he had taken an extra glass of whisky, Plympton never lost 
 a certain tone of distinction that was very notable among 
 the colonials. 
 
 "Could it be possible that Alan wanted to speak to him 
 of Hannah?" he thought. "And why not?" Alan all the 
 time was fearing that even a hint at his desire might break 
 off their friendship and decide Plympton to quit the 
 country and gae "hame, " as he persisted in calling the 
 English county of Devon. They could both hear Hannah's 
 voice in the house; they gathered that she was baking a 
 cake for supper and that Sally Mumford had nearly 
 finished laying the cloth, while the old salt, as Doolan was 
 mostly called, had himself been preparing a dish of fish in 
 the way that was most appetizing to the master; Doolan 
 having a stove all to himself in what was called the back 
 kitchen. 
 
 "Come, man, sit you down," said Plympton; "something 
 has gone wrong with you." 
 
 "Nae," said Alan, "I dinna think that, but something 
 might; it's the thought o' it that fashes me." 
 
 "Why, what could go wrong with you? Are you in 
 debt?" 
 
 "Nae, except for the hospitality ye hae always shown me, 
 Master Plympton." 
 
 "You have paid that over and over again, Alan, by 
 your agreeable companionship; not to mention many
 
 14 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 an act of neighborly work at the fishing grounds and 
 at home." 
 
 "Thank ye, sir, I take it kind o' ye to speak of my com- 
 panionship being agreeable ; but, as I was saying, there is in 
 this island everything to make man happy; and I'll tell ye 
 what will be a great thing in the future, when the auld 
 country discovers Newfoundland for the second time, and 
 that's the fact that she is nae sae far from markets in the 
 auld land, not only for the harvest o' the sea but the harvest 
 o' the airth; ay, and grand markets they might be. That's 
 plain to see in yonder ships, that have just disappeared, sail- 
 ing into St. John's and hereabouts every season, making 
 their masters and the merchants over yonder rich and 
 proud." 
 
 "And tyrannical!" said Plympton, moved by Alan's 
 earnestness; "treading out the life of the colony under their 
 great boots, and dispensing a justice that is worse than law- 
 lessness." 
 
 "That's true," said Alan; "I'm with ye there, Master 
 Plympton, but dinna ye think that may all come to an end?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said the master, "the world itself will come 
 to an end in time. I really am thinking, Alan, that the 
 best thing I could do would be to take my daughter Han- 
 nah away to Dartmouth and settle there for the remainder 
 of my days." 
 
 Plympton threw in the name of his daughter by way of 
 experiment, and watched Alan as he replied. 
 
 "Settle!" said Alan, once more rising to his feet, "and 
 would ye settle, think ye? Wi' ships o' war goin' out 
 against the Yankees and the French, and wi* schooners 
 carrying their guns against the Spaniard, think ye there'd 
 be any rest in that port o' Dartmouth ye talk of sae much? 
 Nae, Master Plympton, ye'd just be manning a ship o' war 
 on your own account, and gaeing out wi' the rest." 
 
 "Maybe," said Plympton; "it is like enough."
 
 AFTER THE FISHING FLEET HAD SAILED. IS 
 
 "Ye hae been assured o' your property rights, your 
 house is secure by legal title, and your lands; since I, too, 
 am just simply devoted to the fisheries, it is likely that I'll 
 be able to get the same privileges; but if I fail i' that, why, 
 believe me or believe me not, there's land even in that very 
 bight of Labrador, away from the jurisdiction of the admi- 
 rals, that might content any man." 
 
 "Labrador!" exclaimed Plympton; "why, my poor father 
 avoided Labrador as he would the infernal regions! 
 What is the lad talking of? Labrador! The land of 
 devils, wandering Indians, and jabbering Esquimaux." 
 
 "With exceptions, master, let me tell ye," said Alan, 
 turning his earnest eyes upon the master. "I've sailed right 
 into the blackest of her waters, landed on her roughest 
 shores; once, man, I prayed to God if there were devils 
 with horns, and furies with fiery eyes, to let me see them; 
 and I rowed into the very shore, and beached my boat, but 
 there were nae demons, and naething else but barrenness. 
 But, man, I could show ye one o' the snuggest harbors close 
 by a good fishing ground, and one o' the rarest bits o' land 
 in the island, back o' the hardest bit o' the coast, wi' 
 breakers that might terrify the stoutest sailor, but on inves- 
 tigation wi' a deep channel o' calm water, fine enough to 
 float a man-o'-war; it's just as if the breakers and the 
 spray, and the bit nasty rocks were hiding the channel to 
 gie the bravest mariner a secret rest and waterway. And 
 once inside, man, there's a harbor, and anither way out 
 that's like the entrance to a dock. And 'way on the south 
 side there's a cavern that leads ye out into the open, where 
 Nature sets up the same kind o' deception, as good as 
 sayin', 'There's nought but desolation for ye here'; but 
 gae on, nevertheless, and ye come to pastures, to trees, to 
 flowers, to berries, and on and on again there's a fiord 
 or lake, with trees on its margin that might be ane o' the 
 blessed lakes o' bonnie Scotland."
 
 16 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 "Alan," said Plympton, rising, and laying his hand on 
 his guest's arm, "it is nearly supper time; we have had a 
 long 'crack' as you would call it, and all the time you have 
 been hiding something from me. Nay, don't go away; I 
 am not angry, dear friend; only sorry that you no longer 
 consider me worthy of your confidence." 
 
 "Nae, " said Alan; "let us walk out into the open; my 
 heart's too full to be stifled up here." 
 
 He strode out into the open, Plympton by his side. 
 
 "Would ye call me friend, I wonder, if ye knew what's 
 in my heart? Eh, man, I dare nae say what I'd like to say, 
 for fear. I'd rather have the privilege o' lookin' o'er the 
 hedge at the thing I love than to be turned off altogether, 
 when the owner found me trying to climb over." 
 
 "You are enigmatical," said Plympton. "I have always 
 thought of you, Alan Keith, as frank and outspoken." 
 
 "I would be content all my life to look at the gem I 
 coveted rather than have it ta'en away altogether because I 
 reached out my hand to touch it," said Alan, as if still 
 communing within himself. 
 
 "And is this all you have to say, now that we are in the 
 open?" 
 
 "Nae; by all that's awful I'll risk it! After all, if it is 
 to come it might as well come now as a year or two hence; 
 if I'm the wolf i' the fold ye'd better see me now in my 
 true character, and hae done wi 1 me. But I couldna telt 
 ye in there. I dinna feel sae mean wi' breathing room. 
 Hae ye ever wondered what kept me here?" 
 
 "I have always been glad you remained," said the master. 
 
 "I never meant to stay when first I came; and my fa- 
 ther's deed sin' I came, and the lawyers write and write. 
 But I couldna leave Heart's Delight. Was it the fishin'? 
 Was it the future o' the place that I talk about? Nae, I 
 conceived the idea to rob ye the first time I went to yer 
 house ! Ay, man, to rob ye o' what ye hold dearer than
 
 AFTER THE FISHING FLEET HAD SAILED. ij 
 
 life! I was just a thief just a wolf i' the fold, only biding 
 my time. It's Hannah! it's Hannah! I love her!" 
 
 A great tear coursed down Alan's bronzed cheek as he 
 confessed what at the moment he imagined was an outrage 
 upon a generous hospitality. He hardly knew what it was 
 to be deeply moved, much less to shed a tear. He stood 
 there like a criminal awaiting sentence; and no criminal 
 ever heard the verdict "Not Guilty" with greater joy than 
 Alan felt when Plympton said, "Keith, give me your hand; 
 if Hannah is willing, I will give you hers." 
 
 Hannah saw her father and Alan shaking hands. She 
 stepped out upon the beach and walked toward them, and 
 as she did so Lester Bentz, who had been hiding among 
 some bushes by the garden palings, -withdrew more closely 
 within the shadow. His eyes followed the handsome young 
 woman as she approached her father and Alan, and he is 
 not to be despised for admiring her. She wore a light print 
 dress; it was a white material, with lilac sprays, short 
 waisted, slightly open at the neck. Her brown hair was 
 dressed high upon her head. Her face was aglow with 
 health, and it carried at the moment something of the reflec- 
 tion of the fire over which she had been stooping while 
 making a cake for supper. When she spoke a second time, 
 you could see between her lips a row of white teeth, for she 
 was laughing. 
 
 "Ahem!" she said, to attract the attention of the two 
 men, who turned to see her make a mock courtesy, as she 
 observed, with much pretended formality, "I ventured to 
 call you to supper, but receiving no answer, I presumed to 
 ask what was the matter." 
 
 "And we thank you, my darling," said Plympton, putting, 
 his arm round her waist, "and we have the pleasure to 
 inform you that nothing is the matter." 
 
 "Been making a bargain?" she asked, returning to her 
 natural manner.
 
 l8 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 "Something in that way," her father replied. 
 
 "May I know what it is?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said her father, "you have got to know." 
 And as he said so he glanced peculiarly at Alan, which 
 somehow gave her thoughts a serious turn. 
 
 "Oh!" was all she said. 
 
 "It is a bargain, if bargain it may be called, that con- 
 cerns you more than anyone else in the world," said her 
 father. 
 
 The same little exclamation as before was Hannah's 
 comment. 
 
 "Our dear friend and neighbor, Alan Keith, will tell you 
 all about it." 
 
 "Oh!" said Hannah. 
 
 "Will you not?" Plympton asked, turning to the silent 
 Alan. 
 
 "If I can," said Alan, looking rather shyly at Hannah. 
 
 "Oh!" said the belle of Heart's Delight, her eyes seek- 
 ing the sandy path, her arm resting upon her father's, her 
 thoughts in a whirl of curious but not unhappy anticipation. 
 
 As they entered the house Lester Bentz crept from his 
 hiding place into the open, and made his way to the tem- 
 porary hut which he had raised near the fish stages.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AROUND A WINTER FIRE. 
 
 ALL Heart's Delight turned out to add a wing to the 
 Great House for the home of Alan Keith and Hannah 
 Plympton, who were married and as good as settled within 
 a month of Alan's ordeal of asking. 
 
 In October Alan and the leading settlers went forth on a 
 sporting expedition, which had been unusually successful. 
 They returned laden with caribou, which gave the entire 
 settlement skins for the winter and the Great House a fresh 
 set of decorative antlers. 
 
 The fishing season had been fairly profitable, and the 
 settlement generally was in a flourishing condition. The 
 villagers had never seen so lively an autumn, never so merry 
 a winter. 
 
 Most of the little settlements, and even St. John's, 
 found winter as a rule dull, monotonous, and often miserable, 
 but Heart's Delight had always managed to keep its winter 
 bright and pleasant, thanks chiefly to the authority and 
 good management of Master Plympton. He dealt out 
 summary measures to evildoers, by general consent and 
 authority of his neighbors, and by dint of his good nature 
 helped to make Heart's Delight desirable to all decent, 
 well-behaved people. 
 
 This winter of the newly married couple was, beyond all 
 winters that had passed away, the most worthy of the name 
 of the settlement. Nobody had any idea that life could be 
 so happy as the Plymptons and the Keiths managed to make 
 it. Good fires, plenty to eat, sleighing, shooting, homely
 
 20 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 entertainments, dances; hardly a day or evening passed 
 that did not count its special pleasure; and Father Lavello, 
 a young priest, who had his little wooden chapel in the val- 
 ley over against the fish stakes, took a genial part in the 
 recreations and amusements of the settlement. Everybody 
 liked the young priest. He could play the fiddle, tell a 
 good story, sing a good song ; and he was none the less a 
 disciplinarian because he was a pleasant fellow, and loved 
 to see the people merry when they were not at prayers. 
 
 Father Lavello was the chief medium of news at Heart's 
 Delight. His tidings came mostly from his Superior at 
 St. John's, including an occasional newspaper from Lon- 
 don, one now and then from Paris, and stray gazettes from 
 Boston in the United States. While he was not a rebel, he 
 had expressed views about the rights of citizens and subjects 
 which had set both Alan and Plympton thinking more and 
 more concerning the prospects of Heart's Delight and the 
 future of Newfoundland. Keith was a loyal subject, and 
 yet he agreed with Father Lavello that Great Britain's 
 claim of the right to search for deserters on American 
 ships was, to say the least, high-handed. Plympton was an 
 old mariner, had sailed and fought under the British flag, 
 and honored the imperial banner; but he admitted there 
 was much to be said for the Americans. He gave both 
 Keith and the priest many instances of the brutal tyranny 
 that had been permitted in Newfoundland by royal author- 
 ity under the Great Seal. He explained that hitherto 
 Heart's Delight had been somewhat favored, perhaps 
 through his own exceptional influence; but the story of 
 Newfoundland, generally, had been one of unparalleled 
 cruelty on the part of the Fishing Admirals. 
 
 "And who knows," he said, "that our turn may not 
 come? Not for thirty years, until last season, have we had 
 a shed pulled down in Heart's Delight; while St. John's 
 has seen houses dragged to the earth, their owners reviled,
 
 
 AROUND A WINTER FIRE. 21 
 
 their women insulted. Imagine settlers tried for the 
 offense of building; tried on the deck of some ship that 
 had for its master a vulgar, ignorant, overbearing plebeian, 
 dispensing what he called justice as Admiral of the Fleet!" 
 
 "I cannot imagine how such outrages could be per- 
 mitted!" said the young priest, crossing himself. 
 
 "Why, my dear father, do you not know that the bits of 
 sheds Patrick Burke put jip to cover his potatoes were 
 removed last season by order of Admiral Ristack admiral, 
 forsooth and the timber burnt?" 
 
 "Yes, I heard of it, Mr. Plympton; and the incident 
 pained me very much." 
 
 "It would have pained you more if you had witnessed 
 my reception on board the Anne of Dartmouth, when I 
 went to plead for the poor fellow," said Plympton, with an 
 impatient gesture. 
 
 "Truly, truly," said the priest. "I did not myself dare 
 to interfere, knowing how much more favor the Church 
 receives at Heart's Delight than anywhere else in the 
 island; discretion is sometimes almost a virtue, don't you 
 think so, Alan Keith?" 
 
 "Eh, man, but it's sometimes hard to be discreet. 
 There's yonder Lester Bentz; saving your honor's pres- 
 ence, I'd like to get my fingers into his neckcloth, for they 
 tell me it was he who pointed out to the admiral that the 
 wee shed had got a chimney; and it was the chimney that 
 was the offense." 
 
 "It is remarkable," said Father Lavello, "that spite of 
 the harsh regulations of the home government, men and 
 women continue to come to Newfoundland; men with 
 women even women alone. What is the matter with the 
 old country that emigration on such conditions is ac- 
 ceptable?" 
 
 "I conceive it to be just the wanderin' habits o' the poor 
 folk," said Alan, "and the idea o' change. I've often
 
 22 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 thought myself again saving your reverence's presence 
 that after all the punishment o' the Wandering Jew was na 
 sae bad if he could only hae gotten his food regular and in 
 comfort." 
 
 "That is a pretty sentiment to settle down with," said 
 Hannah, looking up from her sewing. 
 
 "It's just what they might call a post-nuptial sentiment, 
 Hannah, for I dinna hold wi' 'it now, be sure. It's your 
 father who wants to leave Heart's Delight, not me." 
 
 "I believe you, Alan; but if father does talk of the old 
 country, after all it is only to give us what he calls security; 
 and in his declining years it is natural that he should think 
 of his own land." 
 
 "That's where I dinna agree with the dear guidman," 
 Keith answered. "Dartmouth is nae his countrie; he was 
 born at St. John's, where his mither and father are buried, 
 and surely that makes Newfoundland his countrie." 
 
 "That is true," said Plympton, "but once, when I was a 
 man, Alan, I went to Plymouth with one of the Fishing 
 Admirals and made a stay in Devonshire, and it's a fine 
 country, I can tell you, Alan; a sweet land of stream and 
 valley." 
 
 "Weel, and Perth is na sae bad, I'm thinking; but 
 what's the matter wi' Newfoundland? We'll get rid o' 
 the Fishing Admirals one o' these days; and if we don't, 
 why we must gae to an unfrequented part outside the 
 official boundaries, and make a paradise there ; we can do 
 it, can't we, Hannah?" 
 
 "Eh, Alan, you are so romantic," Hannah replied, with 
 a smile of admiration. 
 
 They were an interesting family gathering, sitting by the 
 fire, which sent a glow over walls and ceiling. It was a 
 great wood fire that crackled and spluttered until it smol- 
 dered down into a silent heat, and then the old salt, Pat 
 Doolan, brought fresh logs and put them on. The new
 
 AROUND A WINTER FIRE. 23 
 
 fuel was heralded as it were by swarms of golden bees, that 
 went sailing up the wide chimney and out into the starlight 
 night. Father Lavello was smoking a long pipe, and sitting 
 in a highbacked chair. Master Plympton was ensconced 
 in the window seat, where, drawing aside the curtain, he 
 could see the broad ocean right across a wilderness of snow 
 that made a white woolly carpet all over the long sandy 
 beach. They had not closed the shutters. It was Plymp- 
 ton's house where they had all supped, and he liked the 
 view at all times from the big front window that overlooked 
 the bay. Hannah was sewing by the table in the light of a 
 small oil lamp, and Alan was sprawling almost at her feet 
 upon a rug of wolf skins, and looking into the fire. Lavello 
 had mentioned the probability of his having to leave 
 Heart's Delight, at least for a time. Alan expressed his 
 deep regret at the suggestion of such a possibility. He 
 liked the young priest, and they had often discussed 
 together the destiny of the colony and the quarrels of the 
 old country with America. 
 
 "And where should you be likely to go, Father Lavello?" 
 asked Hannah, looking up from her patchwork. 
 
 "To Italy," said the priest. "I was born in Italy, you 
 know, and I conclude there is a plan to do me a kindness 
 by giving me duty in Venice." 
 
 "In Venice!" exclaimed Hannah. "I have heard mari- 
 ners say that Venice is the most lovely city in the whole 
 world built in the sea, nearly every house a marble palace. 
 It's too much to be believed." 
 
 "Ah, my dear," said Plympton, "you have known noth- 
 ing better than Heart's Delight and St. John's; you don't 
 understand what fine brick and stone houses are; as for 
 marble palaces; they are dreams, my love, to one who has 
 never seen them." 
 
 "Have you never sailed to Venice, Alan?" she asked. 
 
 "No," said Alan, "I hae mostly navigated the stormy
 
 24 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 waters of the Atlantic. I know more about icebergs ; they 
 make white palaces sometimes on a mariner's course like 
 fairy pictures, and just as deevilish if ye had to trust to the 
 impish lights and strange forms they gie themsel's." 
 
 "I love Venice," said the priest thoughtfully, as he 
 refilled his pipe, "and my mother lives in Florence; but I 
 have no desire to leave you, my friends, no wish to give up 
 the work our Holy Father has given me here in Heart's 
 Delight." 
 
 "Father Lavello," said Plympton, leaving his seat by the 
 window and shaking the priest by the hand, "we owe you a 
 debt we can never pay, as friend and adviser; and as a priest 
 with authority, I have never known one so merciful of his 
 discipline. I pray God you may remain with us." 
 
 "Amen!" said Alan. 
 
 "I thank you, dear friends," said the priest.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "TO YOUR TENTS. O ISRAEL!" 
 
 WHEN the summer came again, and the world of New- 
 foundland was bright with fresh foliage, and the shores of 
 Heart's Delight busy with harvesters of the sea, the Anne 
 of Dartmouth sailed in, first of all the season's ships. Thus 
 was Ristack once more admiral of the fleet. Ruddock, 
 advanced to be master of the Pioneer, was the second to cast 
 anchor, and was therefore vice admiral. They began their 
 ugly work with malicious promptitude. 
 
 Hannah Keith was nursing her firstborn. She was not 
 in robust health. The medical science of the little colony 
 was not of the highest, and Mrs. Keith had undergone a 
 severe time, but was mending with the return of genial 
 weather. The boy had been christened David, after his 
 grandfather, and promised to be strong and hearty. 
 
 Keith, the proud and loving husband and father, was 
 getting his nets ready for work. Plympton was standing 
 on the shore watching the arrival of the ships, and gather- 
 ing bits of news of the lands beyond the sea, when Admiral 
 Ristack accosted the popular settler. 
 
 "Master Plympton," said Ristack, "I greet you." 
 
 "Good-day, Master Ristack," said Plympton, "and wel- 
 come once more to Heart's Delight!" 
 
 There was not much of the ring of sincerity in Plymp- 
 ton's voice. He did not like Ristack; but he was cour- 
 teous to all, and respected authority. 
 
 Ristack (a short, stodgy, ill-favored man, with small eyes 
 set as close together as a thick stumpy nose would permit),
 
 26 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 tugging up his great boots and giving his belt an extra eye- 
 let, faced Plympton somewhat aggressively, remarking, "I 
 don't know that you have much cause to welcome me this 
 trip ; I bring orders you will not like, but I am in duty 
 bound to fulfill them." 
 
 "And what may they be, Master Ristack?" asked 
 Plympton. 
 
 "Admiral Ristack, if it so please you, Master Plympton," 
 said Ristack, fastening the button of his belt. 
 
 "So be it!" Plympton replied. "Admiral Ristack, 
 since we stand on ceremony." 
 
 ' 'You have not been used to stand on ceremony, Master 
 Plympton, but the government have a mind to enforce both 
 ceremony and law at last. From this time forth every 
 building within six miles from the shore is either to be 
 razed to the ground or taken over for the fisheries." 
 
 "Indeed," said Plympton, looking at the admiral and 
 then turning his face in the direction of his son-in-law, 
 "such a visitation upon Heart's Delight would be in con- 
 travention of rights that have been ratified both by kings 
 and envoys; and Sir David Kirke had double endowment 
 of this particular settlement, he and his heirs forever. 
 Furthermore ' ' 
 
 "Sir David Kirke be hanged, sir!' exclaimed Ristack; 
 "and a murrain on your furthermores! I summons you to 
 quit yonder building which you have the boldness to call 
 the Great House, and I give you twenty-four hours to put 
 away such of your effects as you may desire to preserve; I 
 have need of some of the other huts for the fisheries, but I 
 can dispense with the Great House and so can His Majesty; 
 though it might make a good fishhouse and flake; but that 
 will be considered by myself and the other admirals." 
 
 Plympton, somewhat dazed, passed his hand over his 
 forehead, and shook himself as if from a dream. 
 
 "I expected it would stagger you somewhat, Master
 
 "TO YOUR TENTS, ISRAEL!" 2^ 
 
 Plympton," said the admiral, "but you have had a long 
 innings at Heart's Delight. You've sported it as a king 
 might, and you've laid by for stormy weather. I've heard 
 of your remittances to the Bank of England, and I take 
 occasion to congratulate you on your London deposits; 
 you may need them now." 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me, Master Ristack, that " 
 
 "Admiral Ristack, if it please you," interrupted the 
 ruffian. 
 
 "Admiral Ristack by the lord you do well to remind 
 me how a great title can be borne by " 
 
 "An honest man," said Ristack, in a loud, boisterous 
 manner, "and one who owns his lands by rightful title, 
 and builds his house not on the sands, where storm and 
 tempest may wash it away, but upon the rock, sir. And 
 mark me, Master Plympton, it does not behove a man in 
 your position to flout the Admiral of the Fishing Fleet, who 
 represents authority that is stamped with the Great Seal of 
 the realm, sir; and I'd have you to understand that!" 
 
 Alan Keith, seeing that the two men were engaged in an 
 angry altercation, left his nets and came up to them; as 
 did also Vice Admiral Ruddock, accompanied by several 
 sailors and fishermen from the ships. 
 
 "Allow me, Master Plympton," said Ristack, "to intro- 
 duce to your notice my colleague, Vice Admiral Ruddock, 
 of the Pioneer ; he will bear me out in what I have said." 
 
 Plympton bowed his head slightly to Ruddock, a wiry 
 fellow with lantern jaws, and a strong vulpine mouth, firm 
 and cruel. He wore something .between an officer's uni- 
 form and a fisherman's jacket, with boots of an exaggera- 
 tive pattern, and round his neck a heavy gilt chain. There 
 was a touch of the mountebank in Ruddock's uniform; it 
 was quite in keeping with the grotesque idea of the home 
 authorities in giving such men the title of admiral, and it 
 was fitting that they should suggest the pirate in their style
 
 28 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 and manner, seeing that they wielded powers little inferior 
 to those which pirates exercised by force of numbers, 
 audacity, and unscrupulous followers. 
 
 "What's gane wrang?" asked Alan Keith, standing forth, 
 and dominating the little crowd with his masterful per- 
 sonality. 
 
 "This master of the Anne of Dartmouth" said Plympton. 
 
 "Who is Admiral of the Fleet," interrupted Ristack. 
 
 "The first arrival; therefore Admiral of the Fleet," said 
 Plympton. 
 
 "And therefore the king's representative for the time 
 being," said Ristack. 
 
 "And with new powers, d'ye mind, from London," added 
 Vice Admiral Ruddock. 
 
 "To the deil wi' your palaver and fine phrases!" said 
 Keith. "What's the business?" 
 
 "It's just this, my man," said Ristack, assuming his 
 most pompous manner, "that Heart's Delight has to obey 
 the law that makes it and St. John's and the rest, what was 
 always intended from the first, a training ground for His 
 Majesty's fleet, and a fishing station for His Majesty's 
 Fishing Admirals; since you ask, why that's the business." 
 
 "Weel, and in what have we broken the law here at 
 Heart's Delight?" asked Keith. "Have we nae been loyal 
 to His Majesty, and honest, kept the peace, nae listened to 
 sedition, and paid our way?" 
 
 "Oh, you're a mighty fine company," said Ristack 
 scornfully, "all kinds of ye, Scotch and Irish and French 
 too, I make no doubt; and ye have built yerselves fine 
 houses, and made yerselves gardens, and flown in the face 
 of the laws and the conditions of the fisheries; but you've 
 got to bend to the King's Majesty and the admirals " 
 
 "And the long and the short of it is," said Ruddock, 
 coming to the aid of his chief, "that Heart's Delight has to 
 be moved; that is, such of it as is illegal."
 
 "TO YOUR TENTS, ISRAEL!" 29 
 
 "There's only one man in the place who has had the 
 grace to obey the law," said Ristack, his eyes falling on 
 the figure of Lester Bentz, "and I'm glad to see him here." 
 
 There was a murmur of dissent from the little crowd of 
 men of Heart's Delight, who were now attracted to the 
 scene. 
 
 "And what's it amount to?" asked Keith, "the matter 
 ye hae got to say to Master Plympton?" 
 
 "It is not to Master Plympton alone," Ristack replied, 
 "but to others; indeed to all of you who have built and 
 made gardens within the limits of the fisheries; if you insist 
 on staying in the country after the fishing's over, contrary 
 to the rules and conditions of the regulations which come 
 from the Star Chamber downward until now, why ye must 
 go inland six miles at the shortest." 
 
 "Go inland!" exclaimed Keith. 
 
 "I said inland; and that is only a general permission and 
 it does not mean that it gives you any rights of planting, 
 but only rights to herd with the moose, the fox, and such 
 like; but with no more rights than the fox has, and the 
 wolf, and the moose. Your houses by the shore must 
 come down; that's the business, Master Alan Keith, I was 
 talking over with Master Plympton when ye came up." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Keith, "d'ye say we mun pull our 
 hooses down? Pull 'em down! The Great House, and 
 the wee bit hut we hae added to it last autumn?" 
 
 "Every log of 'em," said Ristack, "and within the next 
 twenty-four hours the work must begin. I give ye that 
 time to get out your belongings; that done, the rest can go 
 on as quickly as hands can wipe out the offenses to the King's 
 Majesty." 
 
 Ristack brought in the name of the King as often as he 
 could, to shield his own conduct. Kings and governments, 
 when they delegate power to their instruments and officers, 
 would do well to remember that if the Great Seal covers a
 
 30 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 despotic action they alone are held up as the instigators and 
 authors of the wrong that is being done; while on the other 
 hand their good deeds are often claimed by the officials or 
 others who are the mere agents who carry them out. 
 
 "And, moreover," said Ruddock, "you have defied the 
 government, inasmuch as ye have permitted a Roman 
 Catholic priest to settle among you, and perform the obnox- 
 ious rites of mass. Did ye not know that at a court held 
 at Harbor Main, September 25, 1755, that an order was 
 given to the magistrates commanding that a certain indi- 
 vidual who had permitted that thing to be done in one of 
 his fish rooms, he being present himself contrary to law, 
 and against our sovereign lord the King, was fined in 
 the sum of fifty pounds, the fish rooms demolished, and 
 the owner thereof compelled to quit the harbor of St. 
 John's!" 
 
 "I have heard o' outrages done by what ye call the mag- 
 istrates commanding," replied Keith; "the particular one 
 ye name is news to me. But let me tell ye, Master Ris- 
 tack, that we stand on our own ground at Heart's Delight ; 
 and I think my neebors will agree wi' me that His Majesty 
 has jest enough on his hands at present without vexing his 
 honest subjects in Newfoundland." 
 
 "Oh, that's your answer, is it?" said Ristack. 
 
 "Master Plympton, it will be well for you to restrain 
 your friend," remarked Ruddock. 
 
 Keith turned upon Ruddock with a scowl, and by this 
 time nearly all the people of Heart's Delight were on the 
 beach. Several boats from the Fishing Fleet were landing 
 men. The scene became animated. It was a glorious 
 June day, the sea perfectly calm, a pleasant breeze blowing 
 over the land. 
 
 "Keith," said Plympton, "we will see the admiral's 
 authority." 
 
 "Here it is," said the admiral, producing a formidable
 
 "TO YOUR TENTS, ISRAEL!" 31 
 
 looking parchment, with a tin case dangling from it by a 
 cord, plaited, and inside the case the Great Seal of His 
 Majesty George III.; "perhaps the vice admiral will 
 read it?" 
 
 "I would prefer to read it myself," said Plympton. 
 
 'Nay, then, read it yourself, and much good may the 
 exercise do you," said Ristack, handing Master Plympton 
 the parchment. 
 
 The people talked among themselves while Plympton 
 was glancing over the document; its purport was already 
 known, and was repeated from one to another. Lester 
 Bentz kept close to Ruddock. Many of the settlers were 
 talking loudly and gesticulating. Some of them were 
 already in altercation with the fishermen of The Pioneer 
 and the Anne of Dartmouth. 
 
 "Friends and neighbors," said Plympton. His well- 
 known voice was sufficient to beget immediate silence. He 
 had let fall his soft Cromwellian hat, and standing there 
 bareheaded, his white locks falling about his fine forehead, 
 he looked the father of the settlement; still, however, so 
 physically strong and lithe that he might have given many 
 a younger man a tussle in a wrestling match or a bout at 
 single-stick. "Friends and neighbors," he said, "this 
 document under the Great Seal of England how obtained 
 it is not for me to say, for who knows what interests and 
 influences are brought to bear upon our rights and privi- 
 leges in London " 
 
 "Master Plympton, I must request " began the 
 
 admiral, interrupting the speaker. 
 
 "Sir, do not interrupt me," said Plympton impatiently. 
 
 "By God, if he does, I'll choke him, were he fifty times 
 an admiral!" exclaimed Keith, no longer able to control 
 himself, in face of the haughty airs of Ruddock more 
 particularly. 
 
 In a moment twenty sailors of the fleet rushed to the
 
 3* VXDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 support of the admiral, and double the number of the men 
 of Heart's Delight stood by the side of Alan Keith. 
 
 "Nay, Alan, give me leave," said Plympton, "and you, 
 my friends, be patient until I tell you the commands of His 
 Majesty to these" with a somewhat contemptuous gesture 
 "his servants and representatives." 
 
 "Stand by, ' ' said the admiral, addressing his men ; "stand 
 by and obey orders ; stand by and wait for the word of 
 command." 
 
 "We are charged with having built and cultivated con- 
 trary to the law; we are commanded to remove such build- 
 ings and to cease such cultivation; and this gentleman, who 
 by virtue of his first arrival in our harbor is styled Admiral 
 of the Fleet, is the magistrate who has authority to see 
 these orders carried out. Nay, be patient a moment ! He 
 is good enough to give us twenty-four hours to remove our 
 household goods, prior to the destruction of our dwellings." 
 
 There was a pause of a few moments, as if the people 
 were mastering the full purport of the tyrannical decree; 
 and then there was a shout of anger. 
 
 "Men," exclaimed Alan Keith, striding among his 
 neighbors. "To your homes! Every one of you to your 
 homes! Ask God to help ye, and if he doesna, then we 
 mun help oursels! Eh, my fine Admiral o' the Fleet, d'ye 
 think we're dumb animals, that we're going to stand this 
 thing?" 
 
 "To your boats!" said the admiral, catching the spirit 
 and action of Keith. 
 
 "Ay, such on ye as hae hearts for such service as these 
 creatures gie ye; but if ye are men, tell your nigger drivers 
 that ye will nae stand by and see a wrang done that would 
 mek a pirate blush!" 
 
 For a moment the sailors seemed to waver. 
 
 "Rebellion!" shouted Ristack. "Mutiny! Arrest me 
 this Alan Keith!"
 
 "TO YOUR TENTS, ISRAEL!" 33 
 
 Keith drew his knife and waited. No one stirred. 
 Ruddock ventured a remark. No one heard it. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Plympton, addressing Ristack and 
 Ruddock, "don't be rash; you have given us twenty-four 
 hours; withdraw your men, and leave us to obey your 
 warrant." 
 
 Plympton was the only calm man on either side. 
 
 "I name Alan Keith as a rebel," said Ristack, irritated 
 rather than soothed by Plympton's judicial manner. 
 
 "And I name ye as a liar!" said Alan, his face paling 
 with anger, "and by the honor o' Scotland, if ye dinna tak 
 yer pirate face away, I'll mak it uglier than it is!" 
 
 "Rebel, I denounce ye!" shouted Ristack; "men, I 
 command ye, in the King's name arrest me that traitor!" 
 
 "Ay, come on!" cried Keith, a compact knot of strong, 
 firm men by his side. 
 
 Plympton once more intervened, standing between the 
 contending factions. "Men of Heart's Delight," he said, 
 "friends, neighbors, brothers, withdraw to your homes. 
 I appeal to you in the interests of your wives and children. 
 Alan Keith, son and comrade, I claim this once to com- 
 mand you." 
 
 The settlers, Alan at their head, walked away without 
 another word, but with sullenness and anger. 
 
 "Very well," said Ristack, moved by a sudden inspira- 
 tion of villainy, "I accept your mediation thus far, Master 
 Plympton; you and your rebel neighbors shall have the 
 twenty-four hours' grace I've given my word for. Rud- 
 dock, pass the word for the men to get back to their ships." 
 
 Ruddock obeyed. The men returned to the boats. 
 Ristack followed them, muttering as he went, "But I'll 
 have Master Alan Keith on board before the night's over 
 and in irons by God, I swear it!"
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 COUNCILS OF PEACE AND WAR. 
 
 A MEETING was called of the principal men in the village. 
 They assembled in the living room of the Great House. 
 Women were also present. The brightness of the morning 
 was in sad contrast with the gloom depicted upon the faces 
 of the people. 
 
 Three pioneers of the coming fleet were lying placidly at 
 anchor, while far away could be seen the white sails of 
 other ships making their way to the fishing grounds. 
 
 At the back of the bay the blue hills rose up to the blue 
 sky. Bees were humming in the gardens of the Great 
 House. In the room where the villagers were assembled, 
 the old clock in the Spanish mahogany case was ticking its 
 loudest. The full moon on its disk, glowing with the red 
 cheeks of the man inside that luminary, looked quite jubi- 
 lantly upon the meeting. How often external things seem 
 to be especially bright when we are most unhappy ! 
 
 Hannah, pale but beautiful, sat by the bay window with 
 her infant upon her knee. Her brown hair was loosely 
 gathered together and fastened in a knot on the top of her 
 well-shaped head. Her light print dress was open at the 
 throat. She looked anxiously at Alan, but spoke never a 
 word, except now and then by way of greeting to some 
 newcomer. 
 
 Plympton had dispatched a messenger to the Governor at 
 St. John's. He might as well have let the messenger 
 remain at home. The Governor had received orders to give 
 place to the fishing admirals in regard to the regulation of 
 
 34
 
 COUNCILS OF PEACE AND WAti. 35 
 
 the shore, and in case of need to assist the officers to main- 
 tain the law. He had only just returned to his post and 
 had brought these orders in his pockets. Governors, it 
 must be noted, went away with the fishermen at the end of 
 the season, and returned with the summer. 
 
 During the winter months, as already mentioned, the 
 settlements were left without such protection of law as 
 might be provided by the presence even of a weak governor. 
 It is true a garrison was left at St. John's with full instruc- 
 tions what they should do if they were attacked by the 
 French, and what more particularly they should do in case 
 the French were victorious. They were to spike their guns 
 and make other dispositions to render their defeat as unim- 
 portant as possible. But nothing was said about the col- 
 onists; they were to make shift to live and maintain order 
 as best they could. 
 
 The governor to whom Plympton had dispatched his 
 messenger was a weak officer. Moreover, he and his people 
 were somewhat jealous of the authority that Plympton 
 wielded at Heart's Delight. While the little settlement 
 over which Ristack and Ruddock were just now riding 
 roughshod was in winter a model village of peace and good 
 will, St. John's entered upon all kinds of trials and troubles 
 the moment the fishing fleets, with their admirals and mas- 
 ters, were out of sight. 
 
 In his contention with Plympton and the settlers of 
 Heart's Delight, Admiral Ristack knew to what extent he 
 could go. It was not necessary that he should be moved 
 by revenge or by what Ruddock called love. He might be 
 impelled by either of these passions or not. The law was 
 with him, and it was quite open for him to merely stand by 
 the letter of it and pose as a man performing an unpleasant 
 duty. He was of a malicious nature hated anyone else 
 to be successful besides himself, could not endure to hear 
 Plympton spoken of as a kindly and good-natured man who
 
 36 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 loved his fellows and kept the village peaceful and happy 
 by his good example. He was a grasping, intriguing man, 
 suspected at Dartmouth of having once sold a government 
 secret to a French spy, but he made his way, for all that, to 
 the confidence of the Court of Admiralty in London. It is 
 not unlikely that he may have sold the French spy some- 
 thing that was no good, and made merry over the transac- 
 tion with the authorities in town. Anyhow, he was on the 
 best of terms with the best of London officials who had 
 control of the affairs of Newfoundland. 
 
 Ruddock was Ristack's tool, his fetcher and carrier, his 
 pander, his toady, his neighbor and comrade. The vice 
 admiral gloried in the possession of a little brief authority. 
 He was built in a very common mold had risen by fraud, 
 trickery, and time-serving. On more than one occasion 
 during the fishing seasons he had paid Hannah Plympton 
 offensive compliments that she had resented. During the 
 last voyage home with his patron Ristack, in the Anne of 
 Dartmouth, he had spoken in opprobrious terms of Alan 
 Keith, and had falsely asserted that Alan, in a conversation 
 with one Lester Bentz, had denounced Ristack as a wastrel 
 and corrupt. Moreover, Ruddock had asked, in one of 
 their many talks during the voyage homeward, what right 
 had Keith at Heart's Delight; he went there as a fisherman 
 with a Dartmouth vessel, and ought to have been returned. 
 The master was a Scotchman, like himself, and was in- 
 duced by money or clanship to leave the lad behind. As for 
 him (Ruddock) he would have no Scotchmen off New- 
 foundland unless they were really fishermen in the service 
 of the masters and the admirals; there ought to be a law 
 confining the fisheries to the men of the West. 
 
 Although Ristack, with a pretended air of magnanimity, 
 doubted if this would be righteous as law, Ruddock con- 
 tended that the men of the east coast and such as came 
 from the North, especially a Perth man, ought not to be
 
 COUNCILS OF PEACE AND WAR. 37 
 
 allowed to become masters, or, if they were, on no condi- 
 tions should they become admirals, whether they sailed into 
 harbor first or last. Ristack in this argument was benev- 
 olently neutral; he would carry out the law, whatever it 
 might be; that was his maxim "Stand by the law, boys." 
 He declared that he had no selfish motives in anything he 
 did, but, during a carouse to the confusion of all his enemies, 
 he confessed to Ruddock that, if there was any man in the 
 world whom he hated, it was David Plympton ; and in 
 return for this confidence Ruddock had confessed that he 
 felt similarly toward Alan Keith. 
 
 The authorities in London were too busy with more 
 important affairs than such small matters as concerned 
 Newfoundland. The rights and wrongs of so insignificant 
 a section of British subjects as those who had dared to 
 struggle for an existence on that barren coast, had to give 
 place to questions that were considered to involve the 
 national safety. The British supremacy of the seas was 
 being contested not merely by recognized belligerent fleets 
 but by pirates and buccaneers; and the chiefs of the 
 admiralty were going to show their foes that no combina- 
 tion, no flying of false flags, no subterfuges, no accumula- 
 tion of hostile fleets whatever could stand against the 
 British marine. The bare idea that certain illegal settlers 
 in Newfoundland presumed to move a finger that might 
 seem hostile to this policy of defense and defiance irritated 
 the authorities to the last degree. Newfoundland was a 
 training ground for the navy; Newfoundland was a fishery; 
 Newfoundland should be nothing more. 
 
 In this direction of thought and resolution the master 
 fishermen of the west, and the great merchants and ship- 
 owners interested in the fisheries, supported the admiralty 
 authorities and court with every artifice and influence. 
 Ristack found it an easy matter to win official sanction for 
 an arbitrary exercise of power, which he sought in regard
 
 38 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 to the revision of affairs and the reorganization of the 
 harbor of Heart's Delight, the insolence of the settlers there 
 having been reported upon by himself and Ruddock in 
 person, and also by letter from one Lester Bentz, a fisher- 
 man of St. John's, who had been prevented from following 
 his calling, once every year, in the adjacent harbor by the 
 outrageous exercise of an undue and unlicensed authority 
 on the part of one David Plympton, who actually claimed 
 to be legally possessed of lands and tenements in the harbor 
 of Heart's Delight contrary to law and public polity. 
 
 It is possible that Plympton, without knowing anything 
 of its details, felt the spirit and effect of this hostility. 
 The reader knows that he had looked into the future of 
 Heart's Delight with misgivings. His judgment had been 
 indorsed by signs and tokens which were as straws on the 
 stream of time. The incident of the removal of a potato 
 shed in the previous season was enough to make Plympton 
 thoughtful and suspicious. It was a pity Alan Keith had 
 not sufficient knowledge of Newfoundland to have made 
 him at once accept the suggestion of the master that they 
 should seek the protection and peace of the old country.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FOR THE SAKE OE THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN. 
 
 ON this summer morning of that fatal season of Ristack's 
 extended authority, Plympton looked unusually grave, and 
 his looks did not belie his feelings. Every man and woman 
 in the room waited for his opinion with undisguised anx- 
 iety. "I am getting old," he said, rising in their midst, 
 "and it may be that my nerve is not what it was; if we 
 were within what might be called our strict legal rights, as 
 we undoubtedly are within our strict moral rights, I should 
 urge resistance to these officers, these pirates, despite the 
 letters of authority that justify their piracy. And that is 
 the worst part of the business. A pirate we understand; 
 we fight him or we give in; but here are men backed by 
 the powers in London, whose acts are nothing short of piracy, 
 though resistance on our part to these magisterial powers 
 means rebellion." 
 
 "Then let it be rebellion, say I!" exclaimed the next 
 oldest man in the colony; "better lose our lives than be 
 slaves to such ruffians as Ristack and Ruddock, who have 
 been the bane of Heart's Delight these three seasons back." 
 
 "Ay, ay," said several voices. 
 
 "The thief who lays his hands on my dwelling," said a 
 younger man, who had not long been married, "had better 
 say his prayers." 
 
 Alan Keith, nervous, but self-restrained, stood by Han- 
 nah near the bay window that looked out upon the broad 
 ocean. He was leaning against the window frame, and 
 watching the unaccustomed scene in the Great House,
 
 40 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Hannah had laid her hand upon his, and was looking up 
 into his face. She could see how bitter was his struggle to 
 remain calm ; she knew that it arose from his great love for 
 her. Alan would have liked to stand forth and champion 
 the rights of the villagers with his strong right arm. He 
 longed to grip Ristack by the throat. He would not have 
 hesitated at commanding a fleet of boats to board the 
 Anne of Dartmouth, had he been free as he was that 
 day when he had first seen Hannah standing at her 
 father's door. 
 
 "What has Alan Keith gotten to say?" asked the second 
 oldest man in the village, who had spoken after Plympton. 
 
 Alan made no reply, and Pat Doolan in the porchway, 
 with others of his way of thinking, bit his lips for fear he 
 might be tempted to interrupt the proceedings before Alan 
 Keith had spoken. 
 
 "You would like the voice of the younger men, would 
 you not?" said a stalwart fellow from the east coast of 
 England, who, spite of laws and regulations, had brought 
 his wife over to Heart's Delight and built himself a hut. 
 "If I might be so bold as to speak that opinion, why, then, 
 I am with my gray-haired and honored neighbor who pre- 
 fers death to slavery." 
 
 "Ay, ay," shouted the men in the porchway, and 
 "Hooroo!" exclaimed Pat Doolan. 
 
 Then there was a cry of "Keith Alan Keith!" 
 
 "Ay, why does not Mister Keith speak?" asked a grim 
 looking villager, almost as broad as he was long, with the 
 arms of a giant on the body of a dwarf. 
 
 "I am thinking o' the women and bairns," said Alan, 
 looking round the room. "If we could place them i' safety, 
 it would just be the reight thing to f eight ! And when I look 
 at the master there, and know how brave a man he is, and 
 he tells us we're i' the wrang, I dinna ken what to advise. 
 I hae got over the passion I felt face to face wi' the deevils
 
 FOR THE SAKE OF THE WOMEN. 41 
 
 yonder, and I'm willin' we should be guided by what's best 
 for the women and the bairns." 
 
 Hannah pressed Alan's hand. He had spoken without 
 changing the position or attitude he had taken up from the 
 first. 
 
 "Spoken like the good man ye are," said one of the 
 women. "We might take sides with ye, and die with ye for 
 our rights and honor; but what about the childer?" 
 
 "Ay, ay," said one or two earnest voices. 
 
 "If we could place the women and children in safety," 
 said Plympton, "what then? Supposing we are overcome, 
 these admirals, as they are called, would have the power to 
 take such of us as they could seize to England and try us 
 for high treason." 
 
 "Man," said a Scotchman, coming forward, "it's just an 
 awfu' position! But I'm for feightin' all the same!" 
 
 "Hurrah," shouted a little knot of belligerents, especially 
 those who had no belongings of wives or children. And 
 Pat Doolan again raised his voice with a double, "Hooroo!" 
 
 At this moment Father Lavello appeared upon the scene. 
 There were among the people of Heart's Delight only a few 
 Protestants. This also was a grievance of the Ristack fac- 
 tion. Father Lavello and his predecessors had worked for 
 and with the people ; had befriended them in their money 
 troubles, had joined in their labors, and assisted at their 
 humble festivals. They had made many converts, but 
 those who still preferred to worship outside the pale of the 
 more popular church had no ill-feeling toward the priest. 
 
 "God save you, my friends!" said Father Lavello, in 
 his rich, deep voice, "I am grieved at the trouble which has 
 befallen us. I have heard of it from your messenger. You 
 are met in council; let us first ask our heavenly Father to 
 guide and help us to a right judgment." 
 
 The people fell upon their knees ; some with a fervor of 
 devotion, others with something like a protest.
 
 42 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 "Fight first and pray after, I say!" was the remark of 
 Damian, the dwarf with the giant arms; nevertheless he 
 went down on his knees with the rest. 
 
 "Guide us y O Lord God, in this hour of peril and dan- 
 ger," said the priest, raising his bared head, "that we may 
 follow thy divine will and glorify thee in our acts and 
 deeds. We are men of peace, children of thy mercy. 
 Thou hast given us this place for a habitation. We have 
 raised to thee and to thy saints an altar and a church. 
 Our days have been spent in honest labor according to thy 
 laws, and we have striven to the best of our poor weak 
 natures to walk in thy ways, to honor and glorify thy 
 beloved Son, and to make unto ourselves a home of peace 
 and contentment. If it is thy will that we quit our altars 
 and our homes, and seek thee beyond the boundaries that 
 arbitrary human power has set up, let the same be made 
 manifest to thy priests and to these thy people by such nat- 
 ural inclination as comes with humbleness and prayer. We 
 pray thee to inspire us with a rightful judgment, and to 
 strengthen us so that we may overcome the devil who 
 works against us, and to give us courage to do that 
 which is right, and just, and true, and obedient in 
 thy sight. Amen!" 
 
 "Amen!* said the people, as with one voice; and every 
 man and woman rose from their knees. 
 
 "I beg to offer to Father Lavello and the rest," said a 
 villager who had hitherto been silent, "this proposal. We 
 leave it to his reverence, and to Master Plympton, Alan 
 Keith, and John Preedie what course it be deemed right for 
 us to take; whether to stand by our homes to the death or 
 to take away our bits of things and seek new homes in the 
 interior." 
 
 "Where we'd starve to death in the winter," remarked 
 one of the women. 
 
 "Nay, nay," said another quickly, "we wouldn't starve;
 
 FOR THE SAKE OF THE WOMEN. 43 
 
 and we'd better starve than see our men carried away to 
 England and beheaded on Tower Hilll." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said twenty women at once. 
 
 "I have only one objection to make," said the dwarf 
 with the giant's arms; "it is this and I mean no offense 
 to the priest though I'm a Protestant hand and foot, heart 
 and soul; that is, if I'm anything. It's no good leaving-this 
 question to Father Lavello; he's a man of peace, of course 
 though I've heard of fightin' priests as well as sportin' 
 parsons. But that's neither here nor there; I'm willin' to 
 leave this affair to the master, to Keith, and to Preedie; 
 and I hope they'll let us fight these thieves and buccaneers 
 with the law on their lips and hell in their hearts." 
 
 "Hooroo!" shouted Pat. 
 
 "And one cheer more!" cried his mates at the porchway. 
 
 "Then let it be so," said Lavello; "I assuredly should 
 advise peace, but I am willing that you should this day be 
 guided, under Heaven and Holy Mother Church, by the 
 three good men and true who have been nominated; let us 
 then retire while they take counsel together." 
 
 "Nae," said Alan Keith, standing away from Hannah, 
 "we hae nae need to tak counsel in secret; let us tak it 
 among our friends and neebors. I shall gie ye my opinion 
 right here where we stand. There's naething I'd like 
 better than to gae forth and fight these buccaneers o' the 
 sea, these villain agents of a besotted and ignorant govern- 
 ment, and tear their hearts out o' their vile bodies. But we 
 mun stand by our women." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said several women's voices, "that's right." 
 
 "There are seasons when we stand by our women most 
 true by seeming cowards when we resist our impulses, 
 when we decline to tak chances. Master Plympton tells us 
 we'd endanger their lives and happiness if we resisted these 
 men, whether we drove the tyrannous ruffians to their ships 
 or nae, whether we killed them or let them live; it would be
 
 44 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 all the same, we'd endanger our wives and bairns; we hae 
 gien hostages to fortune, the master says, and we mun tak 
 the consequences." 
 
 "Do ye mean we mun gie in?" asked one of the young 
 men who had previously spoken. 
 
 "Yes, yes," said the women. 
 
 "Nay, nay," cried several of the men. 
 
 "Neighbors!" exclaimed the second oldest man of the 
 village, who having secured attention went on, "hear Alan 
 Keith out! But let me also tell you that the question 
 before us is whether we leave ourselves in the hands of 
 Master Plympton, Alan Keith, and John Preedie. " 
 
 "Right ye are," said Pat Doolan; "me and my mates is 
 agreed to that." 
 
 "I accept the responsibility with my neighbors," said 
 John Preedie, a sober browed, middle-aged man; "I am 
 willing to tell you my opinion without more ado. Like my 
 friend Damian," pointing to the dwarf, "I am a Protestant, 
 though willing to acknowledge the good there is in 
 Mr. Lavello apart from his priesthood, and I think it best 
 that laymen should settle this thing. I would stand with 
 any man and defend the rights of Heart's Delight; but it 
 appears we have no rights to defend we are only lodgers. 
 This land, which brave Englishmen discovered and planted, 
 is not for all, but for a chosen few; and for my part I shall 
 take myself and belongings in the first ship that can carry 
 us to America and join our brothers there who have not 
 only the courage, but the power, to resist tyranny and do 
 battle for liberty." 
 
 "Hooroo!" shouted Pat; and his national manner of 
 expressing approval was followed by a cheer that might 
 have been heard away on the decks of the Anne of Dart- 
 mouth, the Pioneer, and the Dolphin that had cast anchor 
 within the past twelve hours, thus giving to the harbor of
 
 FOR THE SAKE OF THE WOMEN. 45 
 
 Heart's Delight a full court of admiral, vice admiral, and 
 rear admiral. 
 
 "In the meantime," continued Preedie, "I'm for peace. 
 I'm not one, as a rule, who'd turn the other cheek to the 
 smiter; but just now, to the strength of the tiger I would 
 oppose the cunning of the serpent. At present, I say, I am 
 for peace. ' ' 
 
 A murmur of approval came from the women. The men 
 were silent, for they saw that Alan was again about to speak. 
 
 "Dinna ye think, neighbors," he said, his face white 
 with suppressed 'passion, "dinna ye think I wouldna like to 
 feight ; dinna ye think it doesna tak me all my time to say 
 'Nae' to them as would. And, above all, dinna ye think, 
 feight or nae, I will na be revenged. By the God above us 
 I will, and up to the hilt " 
 
 The priest raised his right hand reprovingly. 
 
 "Asking your reverence's pardon," said Alan; "and ye 
 mun understan', Father Lavello, that we Scotch Catholics 
 are nae sae tractable as some ithers o' yer flock; we are wild 
 and uncultured to discipline. But all the same, friends 
 and comrades, I'm for peace this day." 
 
 "And I, too," said Plympton. 
 
 "God's blessings be upon your good resolves!" said the 
 priest.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TREACHERY. 
 
 AND thus it came to pass that the people resolved, pend- 
 ing other advice that might change them in the reply of 
 the Governor to the messenger whom Plympton had sent to 
 St. John's that they would proceed to move their house- 
 hold goods and chattels to a spot whither Alan Keith 
 undertook to lead them. He had in his mind no distant 
 pilgrimage, no wild scheme of an independent kind of gov- 
 ernment away in the wilds of Labrador, but a valley known 
 to many of them only a few miles distant, where they could 
 build without the let or hindrance of the fishing admirals 
 and come to a decision as to their future movements and 
 policy. 
 
 During the afternoon the men met and made their dispo- 
 sitions for the morrow. Some of them already began to 
 pack their goods. Others visited each other at their houses 
 and said good-by to their bits of fragrant gardens. 
 
 The women gossiped about the meeting, and compared 
 notes upon methods of packing. 
 
 Heart's Delight was very busy one way and another. 
 The fishing boats were hauled ashore. Not a man was any 
 longer engaged with his nets. 
 
 The second oldest man of the village had proposed that 
 they make their exodus by water; but this was always over- 
 ruled by the argument that, at whatever point of the coast 
 they disembarked, they would have to march at the very 
 shortest six miles inland. 
 
 Pat Doolan desired to remove the little fort and the two 
 
 46
 
 TREACHERY. 47 
 
 guns which they had erected and mounted during the 
 winter by way of defense of the harbor. Damian, the 
 dwarf, said "no" to this, because they might still desire to 
 turn those guns on the Anne of Dartmouth, the Pioneer, and 
 the Dolphin. Pat was more than delighted at this sug- 
 gestion and would have been willing to try the argument 
 of shot and shell on Ristack and Ruddock at once, spite of 
 the fact that the long guns which the fishing admirals 
 carried would have been sufficient to batter down the little 
 fort and destroy the whole village in a few well-directed 
 rounds. 
 
 In this way the afternoon slipped into evening, and even- 
 ing into night, the weather sweet and soothing, as if it was 
 in sympathy with the peaceful resolutions of the people. 
 
 The law had given them twenty-four hours to remove 
 their goods. Alan, with the rest, had resolved to obey the 
 law to the letter. Plympton and Alan smoked the pipe of 
 peace over their resolve in the wooden arbor of Plympton 's 
 garden during the sunset. They talked of many things, 
 watched the sun go down red and golden into the sea, 
 noted its caressing beams fall upon the anchored ships, and 
 took in the sense and feeling of the scene as betokening a 
 sort of dumb approval of their action. 
 
 All these signs of peace, however the perfume of the 
 first gillyflowers, the quiet sea reflecting the quiet sky, 
 the red-gold sunset, with its last beams on the ships in the 
 harbor and the lead glazed windows of the village were 
 but typical of the calm that goes before the storm. 
 
 While Heart's Delight had come to the conclusion that 
 it would obey the law as it was interpreted in the powers 
 of the fishing admirals, Ristack and Ruddock, in council 
 assembled, came to the conclusion that the law would be 
 best obeyed by the arrest of Alan Keith, the ringleader of 
 what they chose to call the day's re.volt. Ristack was not 
 a brave man. He could fight, if need be, to defend his
 
 48 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 own, but he preferred rather to take his enemy in the toils 
 of legal villainy than to run the risk of his enemy's knife. 
 Ruddock, in his black heart, had a mind to what he called 
 a flirtation with Hannah Keith. He had only learned, 
 after they had returned to the ship, that she was Keith's 
 wife. Lester Bentz was his informant. Bentz had come 
 aboard in the dusk, rowing himself from the shore. After 
 a brief conference on board the Anne of Dartmouth, he 
 undertook to pilot a picked boat's crew to a point where 
 they could approach the Great House and its annex by a 
 path through the wooded hills that protected the harbor 
 from the north wind and formed a picturesque background 
 to the village.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WOMAN'S INSTINCT. 
 
 SALLY MUMFORD had put the infant son and heir of the 
 Keiths to bed. He and his nurse slept in a little room 
 adjacent to that occupied by the boy's parents. He had 
 been named David after his grandfather. Pat Doolan, 
 considering the child's form and promise, had suggested 
 that Goliath would have been a more characteristic name 
 than David. But Pat had always some lively criticism for 
 every event, and he contended, in a professedly serious 
 argument with Sally, that when you named a child you gave 
 the bent to its future. Well, after all, perhaps, it was just 
 as well to be David and kill your enemy with a sling as 
 with anything else, so that ye did kill him. 
 
 Little David Keith was perfectly oblivious of all Pat's 
 philosophy and badinage. He had no inkling of trouble 
 present or to come. He smiled in the most benign way 
 upon Sally. His time was mostly taken up with an ivory 
 "tooth promoter," as Alan called the fanciful toy which he 
 had constructed for David's amusement. The hope and joy 
 of the Keith household was quite a precocious infant con- 
 sidering his age; for at three months much cannot be 
 expected in the way of an intelligent recognition of any- 
 thing beyond the food provided by Dame Nature for the 
 sustenance of her creatures however insignificant. 
 
 While little David slept in the fond arms of his nurse, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Keith sat up to talk over their plans and 
 arrangements for the morrow. They would be up with 
 daylight and get their household goods together, and assist
 
 5<> UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 the master to collect his belongings. Their own were a 
 comparatively small matter; but in the Great House there 
 would be the clock to pack, the one or two pictures to stow 
 away, the guns and swords, and all the kitchen utensils; it 
 would be a heavy day's work. John Preedie's team would 
 be needed, and Alan was thankful now that he had recently 
 bought an extra horse at St. John's. He had two strong 
 and steady animals, and the master had a pair. These 
 with Damian's mule, and a donkey or two belonging to 
 Jakes, the boat-calker, would make a good show in the way 
 of carrying power, considering that there were three wagons 
 and a couple of carts in the settlement, besides the old shay 
 that had been brought from Devonshire when the master, 
 years and years ago, had paid his one long visit to the place 
 which he still called home. 
 
 They had little occasion for horses in a general way at 
 Heart's Delight; but of late there had been something like 
 a serious attempt at farming. John Preedie had done quite 
 a business in potatoes, and had created a sensation when 
 he had used a team of horses to haul half his year's product 
 to the beach for St. John's. What plowing had hitherto 
 been done was chiefly the work of Jules Amien, but he was 
 half a Frenchman, and he plowed with a pair of oxen. 
 Jules had practiced other economies in the matter of haul- 
 age and animal power. Not that Heart's Delight objected 
 either to his dog work or his oxen, but some of the fisher- 
 men were rather inclined to jeer at a man who hitched dogs 
 to his boats to bring them ashore and beach them. 
 
 They were fine, well-trained dogs, the two that Jules 
 called by the pet names of Lion and Tiger. Hannah 
 Keith often paused when she was out of doors to stroke 
 them, much against the jealous feelings of her own constant 
 attendant Sampson. He was a fine specimen of the breed 
 that takes its name from the island. It is doubtful, how- 
 ever, if what is now known as the Newfoundland dog
 
 WOMAN'S INSTINCT. 5! 
 
 belonged to the aborigines; it is more likely to have been 
 the result of a happy crossing of breeds. Master Plympton 
 described the genuine one as a dog some twenty-six inches 
 high, with black-ticked body, gray muzzle, white-stockinged 
 legs, and dew claws behind. Since the days of Plympton 
 the breed has still further improved; but even in his time 
 there were fine examples of the Newfoundland dog, with 
 proclivities for life saving, and a capacity for friendship 
 with man. 
 
 In the matter of strength, Hannah's four-footed compan- 
 ion was worthy of its name. Like the master of the settle- 
 ment he was getting on in years, and curiously enough had 
 recently seemed a little unsettled as to the prospects of the 
 country. At least Pat Doolan said so; but this was only 
 said in confidence to Sally, and it might have been one of 
 Pat's subtle jokes. You should have seen him when he 
 was engaged in composing his bits of waggery for the 
 behoof of Sally or the delectation of the men down at the 
 fish warehouses or the stages ; his small eyes would fairly 
 sparkle beneath their gray brows, and his mouth would 
 twist into curious shapes, intended to signify the extra value 
 he attached to any particular statement he was about to 
 make, or the fun of which was,not to be controlled. 
 
 Pat was a thickset, short, stumpy fellow, with a closely 
 cropped head, big feet, a beard that tried to hide itself in 
 his neck, encouraged thereto by the razor which he used 
 every morning upon his chin and upper lip. He had a 
 ruddy complexion, and even in his silent moments his lips 
 were generally busy twitching in sympathy with the varied 
 thoughts that were working within his inner consciousness. 
 He had been in his time pretty well everything that belongs 
 to the sea and seafaring, not to mention powder monkey, 
 cook, and lastly boatswain to the master when the master 
 had sailed his own ships to the chief port of New England 
 with fish, bringing back commodities for St. John's, even
 
 52 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 on one occasion crossing the Atlantic and casting anchor in 
 the port of Dartmouth, which had now the unenviable 
 notoriety of counting among its seafaring folk the Fishing 
 Admirals Ristack and Ruddock. 
 
 Old Sampson, with his ragged black-and-white coat, was 
 lying at Hannah's feet, while she sat upon a low stool by 
 Alan, her head on his knee, her thoughts running with his, 
 and his full of reminiscences of his three years at Heart's 
 Delight. 
 
 "I mind the first time I ever saw ye," said Alan, strok- 
 ing her thick hair with his great brown hand, "I landed 
 from the first ship that sailed in that season. It was The 
 Hope, frae Yarmouth. The master was a Scotchman, 
 hailin' frae Glasgae. When I strode up into the village I 
 saw ye standing i' the porch o' yer father's house, the bon- 
 niest picter I'd ever set eyes on. Eh, but ye were, Han- 
 nah! Ye just completely dazed me; ye did that!" 
 
 "Alan!" said Hannah, putting her white hand above her 
 head to touch his that caressed her brown hair all the time 
 he was speaking. 
 
 "It's true, Hannah, my lassie; and though I concluded 
 not to return in The Hope and not to go back to Perth, 
 which was my intention after I'd made Yarmouth for there 
 was a fellow there that sailed 'twixt that and Glasgae I'd 
 nae mair courage to speak to ye than if ye'd been just an 
 angel frae heaven!" 
 
 "Alan," said Hannah, "you always exaggerate your 
 want of courage in those days." 
 
 "Nae, not one iota, Hannah. I was just skeered at ye." 
 
 "Nay, Alan dear, not scared." 
 
 "I was most assuredly reight down skeered; eh! but 
 Hannah, I did love ye!" 
 
 "I know it, dear; but I loved you, too, but yet I did not 
 feel like that." 
 
 "Like what, my sweet lassie?"
 
 WOMAN'S INSTINCT. 53 
 
 "Afraid. Nor did I wish to make you scared. I 
 remember as if it was yesterday, when my father brought 
 you home to the Great House, that I was bent on making 
 you feel very much at home and very content." 
 
 "Eh! but ye were awfu' kind tome, Hannah. It was 
 then that I telt your father I had made things straight for 
 staying at Heart's Delight until the next fishing. He was 
 curious to know if I had arranged it wi' the admiral, and 
 I telt him yes, that the master was a countryman, and knew 
 my father in Perth." 
 "My father liked you from the first, Alan." 
 
 "Did he noo? Weel, that's as precious as a gude char- 
 acter frae the provost o' Perth. I wouldna change it for a 
 medal." 
 
 "You were afraid of me a very long time, were you not, 
 Alan?" 
 
 "That was I, indeed," said Alan, "ye seemed something 
 sae far beyond me; and sae ye are." 
 
 "Nay, Alan, you only think that because ye love me, and 
 if ye had loved in moderation we might have been married, 
 eh, I don't know how many months sooner than we were." 
 
 "I ken how gude ye are to me, how much ye love me 
 when ye say that, Hannah; but ye will allow [here he 
 chuckled it was nearly a laugh] that when I had yer 
 consent I made short work aboot askin' ye to fix the very 
 next day for the weddin'." 
 
 "Yes, truly," said Hannah, laughing in her turn, "a 
 little encouragement soon made a man of you." 
 
 "Eh! it did that; I could a'most greet to think what 
 would 'a' come o' me if ye hadna ta'en pity on me." 
 
 "Pity!" said Hannah; "I loved you all the time; loved 
 you then as I do now; and I love you to-day, if it were 
 possible, more than ever for the kind and thoughtful way in 
 which you have acted in this trouble of Heart's Delight; 
 you made a sacrifice of feeling and pride; Alan, that is the
 
 54 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 sweetest, the noblest tribute you could pay to me, and the 
 best thing you could do for our little David. All the 
 women in the village love you to-day; God bless them and 
 you for it!" 
 
 "My dear little wife," said Alan, "there is naething ye 
 could ask me I wouldna do for ye; but you mak too much 
 of this day's business. I would tae God we could hae been 
 left i' peace for a' that!" 
 
 Just then Sampson sniffed the air and growled, 
 
 "Why, what's the matter!" said Alan, patting the dog's 
 head. 
 
 Sampson, pushing his wet nose into Alan's hand, got up 
 to rub his rough sides against Hannah in token of his 
 double affection, his divided allegiance. 
 
 "Yes," said Hannah, as if answering what the dog must 
 be thinking; "yes, we know; good old dog!" 
 
 Sampson gave a short bark of pleasure : but it was quickly 
 followed by another low growl of alarm. He walked about 
 the room uncomfortably, sniffing the air, and once bending 
 his head down by the inner door of the porch. 
 
 "The puir beast knows we are aboot to quit, I mak nae 
 doubt," said Alan, watching him. 
 
 "He is growing old," Hannah replied, "and with age 
 comes what father calls intuitive knowledge. He has 
 often told me that instinct in age takes the place of knowl- 
 edge; he always feels in advance the coming of joy or 
 sorrow." 
 
 Alan generally grew silent and reflective when Hannah 
 began to tark in what he called her wise and learned way. 
 She had had a far better education than Alan, whose train- 
 ing had not been through books or at schools, except such 
 books as treated of navigation, and such schools as had 
 mere experience for schoolmasters. Hannah had always 
 had the advantage of the education that priests can give; 
 watched over by her father, who was a man of some learn-
 
 WOMAN'S INSTINCT. 55 
 
 ing. Alan often had sat and wondered at the strange 
 knowledge which Hannah possessed relating to all manner 
 of curious things, historical and otherwise. She and Father 
 Lavello and the master would, on winter evenings, discuss 
 questions of travel and discovery, even matters of science 
 and works of art which Hannah had not seen or was ever 
 likely to; but the young priest would describe the great 
 pictures of Florence and Venice, and the treasures of 
 Rome; and Hannah would look at Alan and wonder if they 
 would ever see these classic treasures. 
 
 On this memorable night before the exodus of Heart's 
 Delight, Hannah seemed to Alan to be full of wisdom 
 beyond woman. "I sometimes think," she said, "that 
 God also gives to a mother knowledge of things that is 
 beyond books and teaching. Her love becomes her intelli- 
 gence; her devotion, inspiration. I somehow knew to-day, 
 Alan, that your love would hold your manhood in check; 
 that you would keep a calm, unruffled front to the most 
 irritating opposition. At the same time there entered into 
 my mind a keen sense of regret that we had not taken our 
 dear father's instinct of trouble to heart, and sailed away 
 to the old country on the very day when we married." 
 
 There were tears in Hannah's voice as she uttered these 
 last words, and Alan put his great strong arms about her, 
 soothingly, as he asked, "Would ye prefer that we do so 
 now, Hannah?" 
 
 "If it were possible," she replied. 
 
 "Anything is possible that ye wish," Alan answered 
 softly. 
 
 "I have no wish that is not yours, Alan." 
 
 "And I nane that isna yours." 
 
 "But your faith in the future of this place is so strongly 
 fixed!" 
 
 "It was, dear; I don't say it isna now; but what is that 
 against your desire?"
 
 56 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 "My father, I think, longs for an abiding place in the 
 old home of his fathers. He so often talks of it now. But 
 Father Lavello says that comes with age, the memory of 
 our youth is intensified. Don't you observe that father 
 continually talks of his father, and what his father told him 
 of Dartmouth and Bideford, of the famous pioneers, the 
 busy ships with news from distant seas, the quiet homes, 
 the rights to sow and reap without question, and every 
 man's house his castle?" 
 
 "Why, ye talk like ye might hae seen the auld country 
 yersel, Hannah." 
 
 "I have seen it in my dreams," she answered, "but it's 
 too late, I fear, to see it in very truth." 
 
 "Nae, it's nane too late, my lassie. It wouldna be reight 
 to desert the neebors and bairns just noo; but when the 
 settlement is once mair in some kind o' shape, and ye still 
 desire it, with the master we'll tak ship for the auld coun- 
 try, and welcome, Hannah. If Newfoundland is to con- 
 tinue under the heels of these licensed freebooters, weel 
 then, the sooner we're out o' it the better." 
 
 "Dear Alan, does your heart or your head speak in that 
 sentiment?" 
 
 "Baith, my darlin', baith. It greets me sair to think o' 
 the hairdships we're embarkin' on, gaeing out o' the village 
 to seek a new restin' place not that the Back Bay Valley 
 isna delightfu', that it just is. D'ye nae mind the ride we 
 had ae day in the autumn, and ye ran aboot like a bairn 
 gathering the flowers? We hadna been married more than a 
 month." 
 
 "Yes, I remember of course, dear," said Hannah, "but 
 I don't sec in my memory the place you elect for the new 
 settlement." 
 
 "Eh, it's just grand! I'm thinking we didna ride quite 
 sae far as the bito' pine forests it's at the back o' that; wi' 
 a fine stream o' pure water, a sloping bank o' grass, a long
 
 WOMAN'S INSTINCT. 57 
 
 level o' natural meadow, and soil fit for a garden. I ken 
 the very spot where ye shall sleep to-morrow neight; I can 
 tell ye, Hannah, that it's as easy as anything ye can think 
 on to mak a tent just that comfortable ye wouldna imagine 
 ye werena in a regular built and calked hoose. Ye'll hae 
 the shade o' the trees and the modified heat o' the sun; and 
 for the neight ye'll hae a bed o' skins and sheets and a' the 
 comforts ye are possessed o' just here in Heart's Delight. 
 And I'm thinkin' we'll ca' the place Heart's Content, eh?" 
 
 "Yes," said Hannah; "Heart's Delight was heart's 
 delight; but losing that Heart's Content comes next. Yes, 
 Alan, it is a beautiful idea and has an inspiration of submit- 
 ting to Providence; but with you, dear, every place would 
 be Heart's Content for me." 
 
 A low growl, as if by way of protest, came from Sampson, 
 who was now standing in a watchful attitude by the door. 
 
 "Eh, man, what's wrang?" said Alan, addressing the 
 dog. 
 
 Sampson came from the door and leaped upon his 
 master, planting his great paws upon his chest and whining 
 as if he would speak. 
 
 "What is it? Some puir deevil wants shelter, or what?" 
 
 The dog leaped down and stood once more by the door, 
 watchful and angry. 
 
 "Don't go out, Alan; it is some enemy, I feel sure," 
 said Hannah. 
 
 On the other hand, the dog seemed to encourage Alan to 
 open the door. He showed his teeth, fell to heel, growled, 
 and was impatient. The poor beast was conscious of his 
 strength, and did not understand that there might be danger 
 still for Hannah and Alan, although he was there to protect 
 them. 
 
 The dog now suddenly dashed toward the inner chamber 
 where little David was sleeping, then bounded to the win- 
 dow, and finally stood in the middle of the room, bewildered.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A CRUEL CONSPIRACY. 
 
 "THERE are men about the house," said Hannah, in a 
 whisper. 
 
 "Our neebors passin' by, wi* their goods and chattels to 
 be ready for the morrow, perhaps; somethin' unusual in 
 Sampson's experience; that's it, auld friend, eh?" 
 
 Sampson wagged his tail for a moment by way of answer, 
 and once more stood sentinel by the door. 
 
 "It is a very dark night," said Hannah, "and I'm afraid; 
 it may be that those cruel men are back again from their 
 ships." 
 
 "Nae, dinna fear that," Alan replied; "they hae gien us 
 twenty-four hours, and it's rather to catch us in the toils o' 
 some illegal act than to put theirsel's i' the wrang they'll be 
 scheming; I dinna fear their presence, my lassie, until to- 
 morrow at sunset; and then, please God, we'll be cookin' 
 our evening meal beneath the pines o' Heart's Content." 
 
 "Don't go out, dear," said Hannah, clinging to his arm. 
 
 The dog walked quietly to the window, then sniffed at 
 the further door, and with a grumble followed Hannah and 
 Alan to the old cushioned settle by the fireplace, and once 
 more disposed himself in a picturesque attitude at Han- 
 nah's feet. 
 
 "Good dog!" she said, "yes, the bad men are gone; and 
 I pray God we may hear no more of them until it is day- 
 light, when we can see their faces." 
 
 "Hannah, you are trembling as if you had seen a 
 ghost." 
 
 58
 
 A CRUEL CONSPIRACY. 59 
 
 "Those men from the ships are about, I feel sure they 
 are, and for no good.' 
 
 "Nae, dinna fear; I am inclined to think ye are reight; 
 Pat Doolan, by way of bravado, said somethin' aboot turn- 
 ing the two wee guns upon the ships. The man Ristack is 
 a great coward, and may be he would think it safe to dis- 
 mantle the fort until such time as the removal o' Heart's 
 Delight is accomplished." 
 
 "Thank God, they are no longer near our doors!" said 
 Hannah, as Sampson seemed to be settling himself down 
 more and more steadily to sleep. The old clock in the 
 living room of the Great House could now be heard, as if 
 afar off, striking the hour of ten; it was very late for 
 Heart's Delight. The note of time was echoed by a small 
 timepiece in the annex which the Keiths had called their 
 own domicile. 
 
 "Time's gettin' on," said Alan; "how quiet it all is!" 
 
 "Yes," said Hannah, laying her head upon his shoulder, 
 as they sat side by side on the settle. 
 
 "It will be quiet in the Back Bay Valley," said Alan; 
 "there ye dinna hear the sea; but the trees mak a music o' 
 their ain, which isna much different." 
 
 "The sea is very calm to-night," said Hannah. 
 
 "Not a ripple on it," Alan replied, "and to think o' the 
 Lord of Hosts lettin' yonder pirate ships ride at anchor as 
 if they were on some landlocked mere; eh, Hannah, I ken 
 a wonderfu' place, where a man o' war might sleep at 
 anchor while the sea was ragin'." 
 
 "The secret harbor you talk of in Labrador?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But a terrible coast thereabouts, Alan. The sailors see 
 demons there; and it was tabooed even in the earliest times 
 when the natives roamed this island from end to end." 
 
 "It's a wonderfu' harbor; it's a dock made by nature; a 
 sort of hide-and-seek for mariners. One day, when it's very
 
 60 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 calm weather, as the noo, we'll just sail down the coast and 
 I'll show you the way; ye would think there wasna chan- 
 nel enough for a dingey, but there's a channel that would 
 float a three-decker; a waterway as gude as the entrance to 
 St. John's, but it's disguised. Eh, ye canna guess how safe 
 it's disguised." 
 
 They did Sampson an injustice to think he was sleeping. 
 He had gathered that Hannah did not want the door 
 opened. He knew that the men who had been prowling 
 without had left the immediate locality of the house; but 
 he did not know that they had only gone down to the beach 
 to take council once more by the boats. Bentz and Rud- 
 dock had heard Sampson's growl; also the voice of Alan. 
 They had hoped to find all abed, both in the Great House 
 and the annex. They had now to revise their plans, in 
 presence of a watchful dog, and a strong and wakeful 
 opponent. 
 
 "Jim Smith," said Ruddock, "Admiral Ristack has 
 trusted you with the command of this thing; I am only a 
 volunteer. It's naught to do with my ship; it's Admiral 
 Ristack 's affair, and you are his representative, and, there- 
 fore, mind ye, on this occasion you carry the authority of 
 the King himself." 
 
 "Very well," said Smith, "I am ready to do my duty, if 
 I am rightly supported." 
 
 "Ye needna question that," said one of the crew. "If 
 we dinna think much of our leader, we hae undertaken the 
 job; and they say duty's duty at all times." 
 
 "Aye, aye!" said the others. 
 
 "Then," continued Ruddock, "my advice and that also 
 of this loyal man, Master Lester Bentz, is that one of you 
 have a knife handy for the dog, and the others crowd all 
 sail on Keith and secure him at any risk, dead or alive; 
 alive if possible, and gagged; eh, Master Bentz?" 
 
 "Just so," said Bentz.
 
 A CRUEL CONSPIRACY. 6 1 
 
 "I shall try a subterfuge," said Smith. 
 
 "May a man ask what a subterfuge may be?" said Don- 
 ald Nicol, who was a very matter-of-fact Scotchman. 
 
 "Knocking at the door and begging for assistance, as if 
 a body was in trouble; or say the fish stages are afire; or 
 what you will." 
 
 "And then?" asked Ruddock. 
 . "Well, the moment he shows himself, seize him." 
 
 "And the dog?" asked Bentz, who had seen Sampson's 
 teeth more than once. 
 
 "Mardyke undertakes the dog, with ten inches of cold 
 steel." 
 
 "That's right," said Mardyke. 
 
 "For which duty, well performed," said Bentz, "I, as a 
 volunteer, am willing to pay out five golden guineas." 
 
 "Consider that dog dead," said Mardyke. 
 
 "Well, then, we are agreed," said Smith; "march, and 
 take your orders from me." 
 
 "Aye, aye!" responded the men. 
 
 "And no one speak above a whisper." 
 
 "Aye, aye!" was the prompt reply, and in less than half 
 an hour Sampson, at the moment when Alan and Hannah 
 had resolved to retire, once more showed signs of uneasi- 
 ness, and at one bound, with a great loud bay, rushed to 
 the door. 
 
 "What is it?" exclaimed Alan, following the dog, Han- 
 nah clinging to her husband's arm. 
 
 "A man in distress!" said a voice from without 
 "wounded dying help! help!" 
 
 "Don't go out!" Hannah whispered, as Alan unbarred 
 the door. 
 
 The dog crouched at Alan's heels, ready to spring. 
 
 "Oh," groaned the voice outside, "don't leave me to 
 die!" 
 
 Alan opened the door.
 
 62 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 As he did so he was attacked by half a dozen men before 
 he could strike a blow in self-defense. At the same mo- 
 ment, Ruddock and Bentz rushed upon Hannah, fastened 
 her apron over her head and smothered her cries. 
 
 The attack was so sudden and complete that hardly a 
 sound was heard beyond the first grating bark and growl of 
 the dog, as he leaped at the throat of the very man who, 
 unfortunately, was best prepared for the assault.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 PAT DOOLAN TO THE RESCUE. 
 
 PAT DOOLAN slept in a hammock of his own construction 
 in a cabin of the Great House, not far from the master's 
 room. He had been swinging about uncomfortably, 
 harassed by troublous dreams, for some little time before 
 he awoke with a groan, conscious that something was 
 wrong. He peered out into the night. There were shad- 
 owy forms moving about near the house. 
 
 Pushing open his cabin window, that was formed like a 
 porthole, he heard mutterings, and now decidedly a smoth- 
 ered scream. He slipped into his breeches, dragged his 
 big boots upon his big feet, fastened his belt about his 
 waist, thrust a couple of pistols into it, gripped a short 
 hard stick, and sallied forth. 
 
 First he went into the master's room, the door of which 
 was always left ajar, awoke him with the information that 
 something bad was afoot, and then going out into the night, 
 made for the door of Keith's part of the Great House. 
 
 Arrived in front of the little <porch of the Keith annex, 
 he fell over the dead body of the dog Sampson and 
 stumbled through the open door into the room where Rud- 
 dock and Lester Bentz had bound Mrs. Keith, and just at 
 the moment when they were having trouble in the next 
 room with Sally Mumford. He knew nothing of the con- 
 dition of Mrs. Keith, who was lying by the settle, gagged, 
 but Sally was proclaiming her woes with unmistakable 
 vigor. She had been awakened to meet the gaze of a 
 couple of ruffians who had turned a dark lantern upon her; 
 for what villainy she did not know, but of course it was 
 nothing short of murder.
 
 64 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 "Have at ye, ye bastes of prey!" exclaimed Pat, dashing 
 to her assistance. 
 
 In a moment, with his short bit of timber, a souvenir of 
 the old country, he had felled first one and then the other 
 of the two intruders. 
 
 "Surrender!" he went on, planting his right foot upon 
 one and dominating the other with his cudgel, "surrender, 
 or begorra yoor dead men; and begorra I think ye are 
 whether ye surrender or not." 
 
 Here he picked up a dark lantern which one of them had 
 dropped, and turned it upon the two marauders. 
 
 "Oh, it's naybor Bentz, and one o* they thaving 
 admirals, is it? Sure ye're a mighty fine brace o' black- 
 guards, that ye are, to disturb inoffensive settlers in the 
 middle ov God's blessed night! Lie still where ye are while 
 I disarm ye, or be jabers I'll blow ye both to the devil!" 
 
 Pat stooped over them, took away their weapons, which 
 he stuffed into his own belt, and then addressed Sally. 
 
 "Sure and ye are quite safe, Mistress Sally; get up wid 
 ye and light the candles; I'll turn my back while ye put on 
 your ball dress and make your twylet. Don't whimper, 
 Master David, it's all right; Pat Doolan's be your side." 
 
 The child had uttered a little cry, but was hushed back 
 to sleep by Sally, while she pulled the curtain about her 
 and put on her things. Ruddock and Bentz meanwhile 
 thought it good policy to remain quiet, in the hope that 
 their comrades, missing them, would return and call them 
 to the boats. 
 
 At this juncture the master entered the front room with a 
 lantern. Glancing about the place he saw Hannah, and 
 released her. "Great Heavens, what has happened?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Hannah could not answer him. He had raised her up. 
 She fell into his arms. 
 
 "Are you hurt, my darling?" he asked, fondling her.
 
 PA T DOOLAN TO THE RESCUE. 65 
 
 "No," she whispered. She could only speak in whispers. 
 
 "Who has done this thing? Where is Alan?" 
 
 "Alan," she whispered, "has gone." 
 
 "Where, my love, where?" 
 
 "They have killed him," she said, and relaxing her hold 
 upon her father would have slipped to the ground, but for 
 the strong arm he had wound about her waist. 
 
 "Hannah, don't give way; be brave; be strong. Tellme, 
 dear, what has happened?" 
 
 But Hannah was speechless. He laid her upon the win- 
 dow seat, and looked about for water, found a jug, bathed 
 her face, and she revived. 
 
 "I am better," she whispered, half rising. 
 
 Then Pat Doolan's voice was heard in the next room 
 saying, "Now, Sally, go and see about the misthress; where 
 is she? That's right, give us light; oh, ye cursed villains!" 
 
 Before the master had made a step toward the next room 
 the front door was filled with sailors. "Admiral Rud- 
 dock," said the spokesman, "are you here?" 
 
 "Yes," shouted Ruddock from the next room, "I'm a 
 prisoner; release me!" 
 
 "Bring in your lantern," said the spokesman, addressing 
 someone outside. 
 
 A sailor, armed to the teeth, entered with a ship's lan- 
 tern. The spokesman signed for the man to advance, and 
 for another to support him with his cutlass. The master 
 stood by Hannah, who had once more risen to her feet. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" he asked. 
 
 "Begorra, that's the masther!" exclaimed Pat from 
 the next room. "Sure, sorr, we're all right, and little 
 David's all right. And, by the holy St. Patrick, the man 
 that puts his snout in here, I'll blow his head off! I mane 
 it, be me sowl ! ' ' 
 
 There was a dead silence. The click of Pat's pistols was 
 heard distinctly.
 
 66 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 "O Pat, dear!" said Sally, half pleading, half admir- 
 ing. 
 
 "It's a thrue bill, s'help me, be jabers!" said Pat. 
 
 "We only want our comrades; we intend no harm; our 
 work is accomplished," said the spokesman. 
 
 "Indade and is it?" said Pat. "I can't say as much for 
 myself, then." 
 
 ' 'What was your work, may I ask, besides having gagged 
 and bound my daughter, villain?" asked the master. 
 
 " We have done her no other harm ; it was necessary 
 that she should be prevented from crying out." 
 
 " You scoundrel ! " exclaimed the master. 
 
 " Nay, I did not do it," said the spokesman, " but it had 
 to be done, I suppose, and there's an end of it. Come 
 forth, admiral, and you, Master Bentz." 
 
 " Come to our rescue," cried Ruddock, " there's a pistol 
 at our heads." 
 
 " Pistol, by St. Patrick, there's two ; and if the murder- 
 ing gang don't disperse off the face av the earth before I 
 count three I'll shoot your ugly faces into a jelly ! " 
 
 Here Sally, with little David in her arms, rushed out of 
 the room, and the next moment the child was in its mother's 
 arms, though they clutched it with a weak and faltering 
 embrace. 
 
 " Permit our comrades their freedom," said Smith, " and 
 that is all we require. Our work is done." 
 
 " Master, what'll I do ? Give me orders to execute the 
 villains." 
 
 " You will answer my questions and leave this house 
 without further molestation, your comrades being released ? " 
 said Plympton, addressing the spokesman. 
 
 " We will," said the spokesman. 
 
 " Are you here with authority?" 
 
 " Yes, the authority of the Admiral of the Fleet, and with 
 a force sufficient for the release of our comrades."
 
 PA T DOOLAN TO THE RESCUE. 67 
 
 " You seem to be a fair-spoken man. I take your word. 
 Pat ! " 
 
 " Yessorr ! " 
 
 " Release the brave gentlemen." 
 
 " Yessorr ! My brave gallants, with your great souls, get 
 up vvid ye ! " 
 
 Mr. Bentz and Admiral Ruddock came forth. 
 
 " Thank the boy for your lives," said the master, address- 
 ing them as Pat stepped out by their side. 
 
 " I'll none av their thanks, master ; the hangman will 
 take care av them when it comes to his turn." 
 
 " Smith, you will find us at the boats," said Ruddock, 
 arranging his ruffled plumes, and making for the door, 
 Bentz after him, Pat half-tempted to empty his pistols into 
 them, as the spokesman made way for them. Hannah 
 bent weeping over little David, Sally sitting by her side 
 and stroking her hair. 
 
 " I am sorry the young woman and the child have been 
 disturbed," said Smith. " I don't know why it was con- 
 sidered necessary." 
 
 " And what authority could have justified an attack upon 
 this lady ?" 
 
 " That you must ask my betters," said Smith. " We had 
 orders to make an arrest, which I presume she resisted." 
 
 " What arrest ? Nay, you need not say, since I find this 
 poor child's husband absent. What has happened to 
 him ! " 
 
 " No harm," said the spokesman. 
 
 " Oh, thank God," whispered Hannah hoarsely. " O 
 Alan, Alan ! " 
 
 " He is under arrest," continued the spokesman, 
 " charged with rebellion against his Majesty the King, and 
 other crimes." 
 
 " Yes ? " said the master, suppressing his anxiety and 
 indignation ; " and where is he ? "
 
 68 UNDER THE GKEA T SEAL. 
 
 " By this time he is 011 board the vessel of the Admiral 
 of the Fleet." 
 
 " Merciful Heavens ! " exclaimed Hannah, looking up 
 with wild eyes and blanched face. 
 
 " Comfort ye, lady," said one of the ship's men, Donald 
 Nicol, who had stood near the spokesman during the brief 
 colloquy with Plympton, " your gudeman isna wi'oot 
 friends." 
 
 " Donald Nicol," said Smith, turning upon the speaker, 
 " I would have you understand there is only one spokes- 
 man here." 
 
 " I amna sae sure o' that," said the other ; " there's nae 
 a man present whose gotten a heart in his breast that 
 wouldna like to say a kind word o' hope to Alan Keith's 
 young wife." 
 
 " Whatever reparation in the way of explanation was 
 necessary has been made, and that's the end of it, Nicol," 
 said the spokesman. 
 
 " Dinna ye think I'm a log wi'oot a heart or a free voice, 
 Jim Smith," Nicol replied. " Master Plympton, I tell ye, 
 we're sorry, me an' my mates, that the gude lady has been 
 put aboot, and, if I'm yardarmed for it, that's what I've got- 
 ten to say ! " 
 
 " And me," said a red-bearded fellow-countryman of 
 Nicol's. 
 
 " So say we all of us, by God ! " exclaimed another, 
 which drew forth a hearty response of " Aye-ayes." 
 
 " Men of the admiral's ship," said Smith, red with rage, 
 "attention ! " 
 
 The men fell together. 
 
 " Right about. March ! " 
 
 The men filed out, Smith at their head. 
 
 " Pat, get some brandy from the liquor cupboard," said 
 the master. 
 
 " Yes, yer honor," said Pat.
 
 PAT DOOLAN TO THE RESCUE. 69 
 
 " Sally, put your mistress to bed." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Sally, taking the child from Hannah's 
 arms and retiring with it to her own room. 
 
 "Ah, bless it, it's a good bairn ; it knows it's safe with 
 its Sally ; bless its brave heart, it will lie quiet and go to 
 sleep." 
 
 Sally was heard cooing over her charge for several min- 
 utes before she returned. 
 
 " My dear Hannah, it's a sad business, but you must not 
 give way. I know what you feel, but we'll soon have Alan 
 back, never fear ; keep a good heart for his sake and for 
 mine." 
 
 Hannah began to cry for the first time. 
 
 " It is very hard, I know, but we must be patient." 
 
 " Yes," she said, between her sobs, " I am better now ; I 
 will bear up, dear." 
 
 " Take a little of this," said her father, handing her a 
 cup with a mixture of brandy and water. "You must, 
 love ; it is the finest medicine in the world." 
 
 Hannah took the cup and drank. 
 
 " That's right. Now, Saliy, assist your mistress. You will 
 be better after an hour or two. I will not leave the house." 
 
 " By jabers, it's true, there's nothing like it," said Pat, 
 helping himself to a hornful of the liquor. " It's mate and 
 drink and firearms, sure it is." 
 
 Sally and Hannah disappeared, and the master and Pat 
 stood looking at each other. " Sure, master, dear, take a 
 drink yourself." 
 
 " No, thank you, Pat," said Plympton. " Sit down. God 
 bless you, Pat, for a stanch, true, and brave fellow ! " 
 
 " Brave is it, wid a couple of spalpeens that I could break 
 over my knee ? But what's to be done, master?" 
 
 " Yes, what's to be done ? They have tied our hands, 
 Pat ; we are, indeed, bound hand and foot, with Alan a 
 prisoner to Ristack ; it is an awful business ! "
 
 70 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " So it is ; it's just the darkest hour we've had at Heart's 
 Delight. Couldn't we collect a crew and go for a rescue ? 
 There's the little fort ; we could play on the blackguard 
 ships and cover a rescue party." 
 
 " My dear Patrick, one round from their long gun would 
 settle us, and what could we do with a half-armed mob 
 against their muskets and small cannon ? No, Pat, we 
 must be diplomatic ; we must negotiate, and, above all, we 
 must wait. They are in the wrong ; we must keep to the 
 letter of the law. Go and rouse such of our neighbors as 
 may be sleeping, tell them what has happened, but without 
 any flourishes. Tell them simply that Alan Keith has been 
 arrested ; tell them to be up betimes and get away to the 
 Back Bay Valley, so that we keep our part of the compact, 
 and leave no further excuse for outrage. First, Pat, we 
 must get the women and children out of harm's way ; make 
 them comfortable, do you see, with their own belongings 
 about them, and be clear out of Heart's Delight within the 
 four-and-twenty hours. Our friend Preedie knows all 
 about Alan's arrangements for the tents and shelters. God 
 has given us kind weather for the exodus, and he will not 
 leave us to the fury of our enemies." 
 
 " Amen to that swate hope ! " said Pat. 
 
 " But let all things go on just as if Alan was with us." 
 
 " Yes, your honor." 
 
 "You understand that?" 
 
 " Entirely." 
 
 " The time may come for fighting, Pat ; I think it will ; 
 but we must first make our dispositions." 
 
 "That's right," said Pat. 
 
 " Put the garrison in order." 
 
 " I see, your honor." 
 
 " I am sure you do, Pat ; and now I want you to be as 
 wily and discreet as you are brave, Pat." 
 
 " Dipind on me, master ; I'll emulate the sarpent Master
 
 PAT DOOLAN TO THE RESCUE. 71 
 
 Preedie spoke of, never fear. You shall find everything go 
 just as smooth as if Heart's Delight was enjoying itself to 
 the bitter end. I don't mean exactly that, but as if we was 
 just movin' out to Paradise, and it was just the thing we'd 
 been looking to all our blessed lives." 
 
 " That's what I wish, Pat ; go now, and when you have 
 seen the good people fairly settled at Back Bay Valley, 
 then, Pat, we will talk about fighting." 
 
 " Please God, sorr," said Pat, unbarring the door and dis- 
 appearing. 
 
 Plympton followed him. " I'll see you again, Pat, when 
 you come back." 
 
 " Right, sorr," said Pat, his voice already coming from a 
 distance, for Pat thought he saw a spy, and was chasing 
 him. 
 
 ' By jabers, I must keep calm," he said ; " it's a diplomat 
 I am, not a warrior. Pat ! On guard ! Steady ! Stand at 
 aise ! " 
 
 Thus bracing himself to the business of the night, Pat 
 went on his way to Preedie's house, while Plympton, hold- 
 ing a lantern over the canine martyr, Sampson, stooped to 
 pat the faithful beast, remarking : " And are we sure that 
 Paradise is meant for man alone ? I hope, if ever I get 
 there, dear dead friend, it may be good enough for such a 
 true and loving companion as thou ! Good-night, Sampson; 
 lie there, old friend, where you fell at the post of duty. It 
 will be a sight for some of the men of Heart's Delight to 
 remember."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 MUTINY. 
 
 NICOL and his red-bearded fellow-countryman disliked 
 both the work in which they had been engaged and the 
 authority which had been intrusted to Jim Smith, who 
 besides being a much younger man than any of those 
 under his brief command, was unpopular in the ship, and 
 by no means an efficient seaman. He could read and 
 write and "sling accounts." That might have raised him 
 in the estimation of the men who could not boast of these 
 accomplishments if he had carried his knowledge with 
 modesty ; but he had a way of making his messmates feel 
 their ignorance, and he was a sneak and a toady where 
 thrift would follow fawning. 
 
 The command of the enterprise of Keith's arrest was 
 only nominally given to Smith. It was his first bit of 
 active promotion ; but he was all the same under the 
 unofficial orders of Ruddock. His task was not an easy 
 one. Hardly any other man in the ship would have taken 
 it cheerfully ; no other would have been proud of it ; 
 especially when, at starting, Admiral Ristack simply 
 referred to Smith as the spokesman of the party, intimating 
 that he would get his orders from Admiral Ruddock. 
 
 If on leaving the outraged home of the Keiths the men 
 had obeyed the word of command with readiness, they did 
 not disguise their ill-temper. Nicol and his red-bearded 
 companion had openly murmured. Others of the men had 
 responded to their observations in a manner that seemed 
 to disparage the action of the spokesman. They con- 
 versed in low tones, but Smith heard them, and knowing 
 
 72
 
 MUTINY. 73 
 
 that Ruddock and Bentz were ahead of them, felt safe in 
 rebuking the men who had addressed words of sympathy 
 to Mrs. Keith. It was enough that he had endeavored to 
 finish the business without a fight. He knew that Ruddock 
 would appreciate the diplomatic way in which he had 
 saved him and his friend Bentz from that fire-eater, Pat 
 Doolan. So he screwed up his courage and asserted 
 his position. When they were well on their way to the 
 boats, he turned upon the company with the word, " Halt ! " 
 
 The men obeyed, but without ceasing their talk. 
 
 " Donald Nicol," said Smith, " I'll report you for insub- 
 ordination ! " 
 
 " And by the might of grand auld Scotland, if you do, 
 my canny man, I'll stick a knife between your ribs, if I 
 swing for it ! " said Nicol, breaking ranks and confronting 
 the spokesman. 
 
 " Right you are," said the red-bearded one, standing by 
 his side. 
 
 " We shall see," said Smith. " Fall in ! " 
 
 " Fall in be ! " said Nicol. " What do you take us 
 
 for a troop of marines ? Look here, mates, who's this 
 whippersnapper frae the sooth that's goin* to jaw an auld 
 sailor, and thirty year a fisherman, aboot insubordina- 
 shun ?" 
 
 "And for what?" asked his fellow-countryman, "for 
 bein' civil to a puir devil's wife, who'd been gagged by a 
 coward." 
 
 " Fall in, I say," was Smith's only reply. 
 
 " And I say, stand ! " exclaimed Nicol. " By Heevens, 
 we'll hae this thing out now. D'ye, hear, Jim Smith ? " 
 
 " It's mutiny," said Smith, in as defiant a tone as he 
 could command. 
 
 " Oh, mutiny be blowed," said another of the crew, hail- 
 ing from the east coast of England ; " take it back, Jim 
 Smith, take it back. You've got your bit of promotion in
 
 74 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 a bad cause, and ye'll take back the insult about reporting 
 Donald Nicol. D'ye hear ? " 
 
 " I have my duty to do," said Smith, quailing a little 
 before the third speaker. 
 
 "Your duty !" exclaimed the east coaster. " What do 
 you think you are ? What do you think we are ? We are 
 notmen-o'-warsmen, nor even privateers ; we're just common 
 sailors on board a fishin' ship, the master no better than any 
 one of us, with a power that, by the Lord, is a disgrace to 
 our country ! " , 
 
 " Aye, aye," shouted the entire company. 
 
 " Take back your insult, or we'll make the Anne of Dart- 
 mouth too hot for you ! " 
 
 " Gie us your hand," said Nicol, grasping the eastern 
 man's big fist. 
 
 " Oh, my heavens, mates," exclaimed Smith, all his 
 assumption of authority gone, " don't talk like that. I 
 take it back all I have said. I don't want to be at enmity 
 with Donald Nicol or any man on the ship. I've been 
 promoted through interest, I know. I tried to do my 
 duty " 
 
 " But it's not your duty to sneer at a shipmate 'cause he 
 cannot read his letters nor do a sum in figures," said a burly 
 chap, who had often been Smith's butt in the fo'ksle. 
 
 "That's all right, mates," said another. "Jim Smith's 
 got his lesson ; and we've got it writ down in our minds. 
 That lasts longer nor books." 
 
 " You tak it a' back ?" said Nicol, "that's understood ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Smith ; "and, more, I ask your pardons." 
 
 " That's a' reight," said Nicol ; " ther's nae mair to be 
 said, mates ! " 
 
 "Yes, ther's just this," replied the east coastman. "We 
 conclude to keep an eye on Jim Smith, and we'd have him 
 know that." 
 
 " Aye, aye," said the rest.
 
 MUTINY. 75 
 
 " Very well, then, Mister Take-it-back, give us the word! " 
 said the east coastman, falling in with the rest. 
 
 They found Ruddock and Bentz by the boats awaiting 
 them. 
 
 " What have ye been argufying about ? " asked Ruddock, 
 standing by the first boat, and motioning a crew to step 
 aboard. 
 
 " We were discussing the prospect of fishing beginning 
 to-morro\v," said Smith. 
 
 " Oh, that's all," Ruddock replied. 
 
 "Wind's changed to the right quarter, Donald Nicolsays," 
 continued Smith. 
 
 " Oh, it has, has it ? " said Ruddock. 
 
 " Better be takin' cod than planters," said Nicol. 
 
 " What ? " asked Ruddock, "what ?" 
 
 " Donald says there's mair fun in fishin' for cod than 
 traitors," said the red-bearded one. 
 
 "Oh," said Ruddock, "seems to me there's as many 
 traitors most as cod on this coast." 
 
 " They'd mak short work o' the Anne o Dartmouth and 
 the Pioneer if there was," said Nicol, with a disputative 
 swing of his right arm as he vaulted into the boat. 
 
 " Would they ? " said Ruddock ; " Donald Nicol, ye are 
 too free with your tongue." 
 
 " It's just a way we have in Scotland," said Nicol. 
 
 " It's a way I don't allow on the Pioneer" said Ruddock. 
 
 "Vary weel ; when I hae the honor to belong to the 
 Pioneer I'll remember it," said Nicol, settling down to his 
 oar. 
 
 " Now lads, pull away ! " said the boatswain, and the 
 splash of the oars put an end to further discussion. 
 
 As the men climbed once more upon deck they could see 
 that Heart's Delight had been awakened from one end of 
 the long street to the other. It was not yet midnight, at 
 which time, as a rule, not a single lamp or candle would be
 
 76 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 burning in the village. Now, however, the place was illumi- 
 nated as if in honor of some happy event. 
 
 Not only were there lights in the windows, but torches 
 and lanterns were moving about along the sea front. The 
 people were obeying the orders of the father of the settle- 
 ment, preparing for their exodus on the morrow, while Alan 
 Keith lay bound and wounded in the hold of his enemy's 
 ship.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW THE KING'S MEN MADE REBELS. 
 
 THE first mad impulse of Heart's Delight was t<u rescue 
 Alan Keith. John Preedie proposed to man every boat in 
 the harbor and board the admiral's ship. 
 
 " He will fire his long gun across your bows," said 
 Plympton, " and if that does not bring you to he will fire 
 into you." 
 
 " Some of us will go down," said Preedie, " the rest will 
 swarm over the ship's sides like bluejackets boarding a 
 Spanish galleon." 
 
 " The long gun which Ristack has mounted on his main- 
 deck is the same kind of engine you admired so much 
 on the Yankee sloop that put in for provisions soon after 
 the ice broke up. D'ye mind the thing ? " 
 
 " That I do, friend Plympton, and would to God the 
 American was here now ; we'd join his standard and fight 
 these King George men, long gun or no." 
 
 " An' by jabers why not fight them now ? " exclaimed Pat 
 Doolan ; " and turn the Anne's long gun on the Pioneer and 
 the Dolphin!' 
 
 " Let us not talk wildly," said Plympton. 
 
 " Saving your honor's authority, and no man bows lower 
 to its wisdom than Pat Doolan, I am not talking wildly ; it's 
 a regular plan in black and white I have constructed ; and 
 its just this ; the campaign on shore first, the maritoime 
 adventure after; let us meet the bastes with the cunning of 
 the fox ; pretend submission, and while they're at their 
 damnable work on our hearths and homes fall upon them 
 and cut every man's throat of 'em ! "
 
 78 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 A low murmur of approval greeted Pat's fiery speech. 
 
 " I would like nothing better, if success could be assured," 
 Plympton replied. 
 
 " Believe me, we'll not fail," said Pat, " and if we do we 
 can but die onst." 
 
 " But we don't want to die at present," said Plympton ; 
 "we began by thinking of the women and children, let us 
 still keep them in mind ; if we could be reasonably assured 
 of victory, and could follow it by capturing the Anne and 
 turning her long gun upon the Pioneer and the Dolphin or, 
 if failing, we could march inland unmolested, leaving scouts 
 to look out for a rebel ship to take us aboard or assist in 
 our defense for St. John's would send troops after us 
 then I would say, let it be war to the death." 
 
 " Aye, aye ! " exclaimed the majority of the crowd, but it 
 was evident that the approving voices were only intended to 
 indorse the latter part of the Master's words. 
 
 " I am for going at the murderous scum o' the earth right 
 here ! " said Preedie, his knotted forehead puckered with 
 angry lines, his lips closed tight, his right hand clenched. 
 
 "Hooroo ! " shouted Doolan. 
 
 " Friends, brothers," said Father Lavello, stepping into 
 their midst, " be advised by Master Plympton, he has more 
 at stake than any of us ; he is thoughtful as he is brave ; if 
 you have to fight by all means fight, and to the death I am 
 with you ; but do not be the aggressors." 
 
 " Father Lavello is right in that last remark," said 
 Plympton ; " do not let us be the aggressors. We may have 
 to fight whether we wish or no ; anyhow, this day will not 
 see the last of the Ristack and Ruddock outrage ! To-day, 
 for some inscrutable reason, God gives them the advantage ; 
 but our turn will come. In the meantime, notwithstanding 
 the government's breach of faith, as represented by these 
 ruffians, who disgrace the English flag, it would be folly to 
 offer a weak and useless resistance to the carrying out of
 
 HOW THE KING'S MEN MADE REBELS. 79 
 
 the authoritative order of the fishing admirals. I would 
 advise that for the present we think no more of fighting. 
 The wise commander selects his time and ground, and does 
 not allow the enemy to do that for him and take him at a 
 disadvantage. Besides, some of us have valuables to protect 
 specie, plate ; not too much of it, but enough to give us the 
 advantage on some future occasion. We may yet have a 
 ship of our own, armed with more than one long gun, and 
 equipped with the force of our own bitter wrongs." 
 
 The master's face flushed as he flung out this threat, and 
 the crowd cheered lustily. 
 
 " If that's in your mind, old friend," said Preedie, " say 
 no more ; we will take our orders from you." 
 
 " Indade, and we will if they lead us to , saving your 
 
 riverence's presence," said Pat, pausing in his full run of 
 profane allusion to a certain place which has a special charm 
 of contrast and illustration for men of all conditions of 
 recklessness. 
 
 " I forgive you, Pat. You mean well, but your vocab- 
 ulary is ample without profanity. Leave that to men of 
 passion and limited speech. They need the safety valve of 
 a profane expletive. Look at our friend Bowers ; he will 
 explode if he doesn't utter one good round anathema of all 
 cowards." 
 
 The priest's judicious interposition, and his characteristic 
 badinage, relieved the situation of its vengeful aspect, and it 
 was resolved that Master Plympton's judgment should be 
 acted upon ; that, in short, the entire community should 
 place themselves in his hands. 
 
 It was still dark. There was a clear, starry sky above. 
 This was only enough to show an outline of things. The 
 lights of the hostile vessels could be seen blinking like mock 
 stars at sea. A line of light along the shore showed the 
 course of the waves as the tide came swelling into the 
 harbor.
 
 8o UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 There was no more thought of sleep. The collection of 
 the goods and chattels of the village was commenced by the 
 light of torches and lanterns. John Preedie hummed an old 
 sea song as he helped to carry out his household goods, and 
 he thought of Plympton's threat of a large and dignified 
 vengeance as he piloted to his heaviest wagon an iron-bound 
 box weighted with great locks like a Spanish dollar-chest, 
 such as may still be found in old country houses, relics of 
 the days of Raleigh, Frobisher, and Drake. Plympton had 
 one or two similar articles, but the Master's money treasures 
 consisted chiefly of Bank of England notes and bonds. 
 
 Morning came soft and sweet. With its first rosy streaks 
 Doolan and a dozen others started for Back Bay Valley, 
 where neither tents, sheds, nor buildings came under the 
 jurisdiction of the fishing admirals. It is true they might, if 
 provoked, stretch their authority and appeal to the governor 
 for support ; but it was hardly likely, the village being 
 quietly evacuated, that the emigrants would be molested. 
 
 All day long the villagers labored at their " flitting," as 
 one of the east coast men called the exodus. 
 
 Every kind of domestic furniture was laid in heaps along 
 the sandy shore. The day was genial and pleasant, the sky 
 as blue and serene as a summer day in that city of the sea 
 of which Father Lavello had so often spoken, and to which 
 Plympton was fond of offering, by way of competition, the 
 picture of a certain Devonshire port sleeping in the sun 
 or bright and busy with venturous ships coming and going 
 to and from all the known and unknown seas of the wide 
 world. 
 
 During the morning, without a word to Plympton or the 
 rest until his return, Father Lavello had taken a boat and 
 presented himself before Admiral Ristack as a petitioner for 
 the release of Alan Keith. 
 
 " I have a mind to keep you for his confessor when we 
 hoist him up to yonder yardarm," said Ristack, hitching up
 
 HOW THE KING'S MEN MADE REBELS. 8 1 
 
 his belt and turning a quid of tobacco in his sallow 
 cheek. 
 
 " I would not wish to confess a more honorable man," said 
 the young priest. 
 
 " Oh, you wouldn't ! Damme, sir, d'ye mean to say I'm 
 not honorable ? " 
 
 " I mean to say that I think it would be an honorable act 
 to release your prisoner, Alan Keith." 
 
 " That's the kind of honorable act I'm not to be bullied 
 into, d'ye hear, Master Priest ?" 
 
 " I hear," said Lavello. 
 
 " And further, mark me, the devil take me if I don't stop 
 your perverting campaign in these parts ; d'ye know it's 
 illegal to perform the Mass in Newfoundland ? " 
 
 " I did not know it." 
 
 " Then it is, I tell you. Body o' me, I'll have ye burnt if 
 ye're not careful of your conduct in this affair." 
 
 " I could not burn in a holier cause," said Lavello. 
 
 "Oh, you couldn't ! You're a saucy priest, let me tell 
 you ; quit this ship while ye're free, d'ye hear ! " 
 
 " One word, not as priest, but as man to man," said 
 Lavello. " Mrs. Keith has received so great a shock, not 
 being in good health at the time of the attack on her hus- 
 band, that her life is despaired of ; Keith's release, if it 
 does not save her life, will console her dying hours." 
 
 " To the bottomless pit with Mrs. Keith ! " was the brutal 
 reply; "the world would be the better for the extermination 
 of the whole brood of 'em. Mrs. Keith forsooth ! Bo's'n, 
 see this fellow to the boat." 
 
 " Dinna fear, he'll nae hang him," said a voice, as Lavello 
 went down the ladder and dropped into his boat. He 
 looked up, but could not see the man who had spoken. 
 
 The priest was rowed by a silent old fellow who had 
 sought through life to model his conversation on the prov- 
 erb, " The least said the soonest mended."
 
 82 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 " Did you hear that remark, Bowers ? " asked Lavello. 
 
 u Aye. sir," said Bowers. 
 
 " They will hang him nevertheless, if they dare," said the 
 priest. 
 
 Bowers made no reply, but simply tugged away at the 
 oars. While the priest was on board Ristack's ship, 
 Sandy Scot had intrusted a long and important message to 
 Bowers for careful and timely deliverance to John Preedie. 
 
 The silent one was committing it to memory. All the 
 same, had his mind been unburdened with Sandy's message, 
 he would still have held his peace. He not only did not 
 talk as a rule, but on theological matters he was opposed to 
 the views of Father Lavello. 
 
 "We have fallen on bad times, Bowers ! " 
 
 " Aye, sir," said Bowers. 
 
 " We must bear and forbear." 
 
 Bowers made no answer. 
 
 The priest also dropped into silence. Calmly contem- 
 plating Bowers, he noted that the man's face was full of 
 wrinkles, that his mouth was hard, his lips 'tight, his hair 
 grizzled, his hands enormous, his body broad and strong, 
 his legs like bended pillars, his feet so large that he might 
 have been one of those ancient Picts that Hereward ridi- 
 culed and scoffed at in the olden days. He found Bowers 
 quite fascinating for want of any other object of contempla- 
 tion ; his mind was so perplexed, he could not bring it into 
 any exercise of discipline ; it revolted against every maxim 
 that fitted the case of Keith, the young wife, and her 
 devoted father. Presently he began to count his beads and 
 to pray for guidance and strength. 
 
 The room in which Hannah was lying was reserved until 
 the last loads were arranged for removal. She had striven 
 hard to bear up against the disaster that had befallen her. 
 The local leech had bled her, and possibly it was the worst
 
 HOW THE KING'S MEN MADE REBELS. 83 
 
 thing he could have done, but the master and Sally Mum- 
 ford admitted that the fever into which she had fallen had 
 considerably diminished since that operation. The disease 
 and the remedy had, however, left her very weak. Her 
 pulse, which, during the night, had beaten in alarming sym- 
 pathy with a high state of fever, had now fallen very low. 
 The doctor said it would be dangerous to move her. One 
 of the women offered to go out to the Anne of Dartmouth 
 and plead for her, but the men declined to have any further 
 action taken in the way of petition. Moreover Master 
 Plympton's messenger from St. John's had returned with 
 the intimation that Heart's Delight, within six miles of the 
 shore, was absolutely under the authority of Admiral Ristack 
 and his colleagues, the Vice and Rear Admirals of the 
 Fishing Fleet. 
 
 It was within an hour of the twenty-four that had been 
 granted to them, when Hannah was carried forth on a 
 stretcher en route for Back Bay Valley. She was very pale. 
 Her weary eyes turned toward the ship where her husband 
 lay in irons. She murmured his name, and offered up a prayer 
 for his safe return to her. Father Lavello walked by the 
 side of the litter, Sally Mumford followed with little David, 
 who beheld the proceedings with a baby smile. The village 
 leech and some twenty women made up the sad procession ; 
 and as many men remained behind, packing the last loads 
 upon John Preedie's wagon. Other bundles and pieces of 
 furniture had been carried a few hundred yards along the 
 road, awaiting later removal. 
 
 Master Plympton, with a dozen other settlers, received the 
 admiral and his boat's crew. The master was very calm. 
 He had dressed himself as if for a state ceremony. He 
 wore a pair of dark brown breeches and worsted stockings, 
 with shoes and buckles, a swallow-tail coat with a high collar 
 and stock, and a sugarloaf hat with a steel buckle and 
 band. He was clean shaven, and his gray hair fell some-
 
 84 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL, 
 
 what stiffly behind his ears. His long, sharp-cut features 
 were very pale, his gray eyebrows looked more than usually 
 thick and shaggy, his eyes more than usually sunken. In 
 contrast with the blustering, pimpled Ristack, he looked 
 like an aristocrat of the bluest blood. 
 
 Ristack had also dressed for the occasion. It is hardly 
 necessary to say that the fishing admirals had no special 
 uniform ; neither had they, for that matter, as ordinary 
 masters of ships ; but some of them donned curious, showy 
 jerkins and belts, with such bits of finery as might be picked 
 up in foreign ports. Ristack had assumed a costume that 
 was something between a naval uniform and the costume of 
 a pirate chief. Most conspicuous was his cocked hat, and his 
 heavy belt, in which a brace of pistols were prominent. Rud- 
 dock was not present, and Lester Bentz had also thought it 
 wise to remain on board the admiral's ship. 
 
 "Sir," said Plympton, "we surrender the village to you as 
 the king's representative ; we do so under protest ; we do 
 so in the cause of peace. With such example as is offered 
 us elsewhere, and with not less aggravation to revolt, we 
 might on moral, and even patriotic grounds, have resisted 
 your high-handed proceedings. Nay, you must hear me, 
 sir ! " 
 
 " Then check your tongue, Master Plympton, and make 
 your oration brief ; I am not bound to listen to yarns, and 
 I draw the line at treason," said Ristack. 
 
 "A great disaster may be dwarfed by a greater," said 
 Plympton ; " since you fell upon our son and carried him 
 from us, we have felt the destruction of our homes as 
 nothing ; release Alan Keith, and we will disappear from 
 Heart's Delight, never to return ! If this sacrifice is not 
 enough, name some other ; we will obey it." 
 
 " Aye, aye," said the men of Heart's Delight. 
 
 " If you had stowed your jaw to this extent at our first 
 meeting, Master Plympton, our measures might have been
 
 HOW THE KING'S MEN MADE REBELS. 85 
 
 moderated ; but at present we make no terms beyond what 
 the la\v and the king's authority have laid down." 
 
 "Is that your final reply ?" 
 
 " It is," said Ristack. 
 
 "You winna release our comrade?" said one of the 
 villagers, standing forth defiantly; "ye broke your word, 
 ye made your king lie, you came like a thief i' the neight 
 and broke into a peaceful hoose, and ye'll mak no recom- 
 pense ? " 
 
 " None," said Ristack. "Stand back, man ! " 
 
 " I'll nae stand back, ye evil-minded son o' perdition," 
 said the villager, with flashing eyes, his hand upon his 
 dirk. 
 
 " Arrest the traitor," exclaimed Ristack, turning to his 
 men. 
 
 At once a score of villagers gathered round their cham- 
 pion. Cutlasses and knives were drawn. The admiral laid 
 his hand upon his pistols, but the sailors did not advance, 
 and the villagers did not retrea|. 
 
 Another moment, and the men would have been at each 
 other's throats. Plympton came between them. " Back, 
 my friends, no bloodshed ; don't forget the women and 
 children." 
 
 Then turning to Ristack, he said, "Bear with my neigh- 
 bor, he is a Magreggor and finds it hard to suffer oppres- 
 sion." 
 
 . Ristack was anxious to avoid an encounter. His cause 
 was too weak to inspire him with more than a blustering 
 imitation of courage. He had an uncomfortable feeling as 
 to the devotion of his crew, and his game was to get com- 
 fortable possession of Heart's Delight. It was not his cue 
 to fight at this time. 
 
 " Draw off your vagabonds," he said to Plympton. " The 
 law is with me and the power, and I can afford to be patient 
 in the doing of a disagreeable duty."
 
 86 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 "Friends and comrades," said Plympton, "you have 
 made me your leader ; be ruled by me." 
 
 " Aye, aye, we will," was the reply. 
 
 "Since you are in a judicial mood, Sir Admiral," said 
 Plympton, " and a patient one, let me plead for the release 
 of your prisoner, Alan Keith ; it will make my vagabonds, 
 as you are pleased to call them, content to leave you their 
 hearths and homes.' 
 
 " Don't Sir Admiral me, Master Plympton, with a sneer 
 on your lips, and don't repeat me. I am in a judicial mood, 
 I am the king's representative, and in opposing me you put 
 yourself in the wrong." 
 
 " Not so much in the wrong as your seizure of Alan Keith 
 and the manner of it," said Plympton. 
 
 " That's as the great lords and judges of the land shall 
 resolve in England," said Ristack. 
 
 " You don't mean to say you will take him to England ? " 
 asked John Preedie. 
 
 " I do, unless he will purge himself of his guilt by confes- 
 sion, and join you in guarantees of good behavior till the 
 fishing's over." 
 
 "Confession !" exclaimed Plympton, "of what crime?" 
 
 " Obstructing the king's authority, speaking treason, 
 inciting Heart's Delight to rebellion." 
 
 It was in Plympton's mind for a moment to rush upon the 
 lying tyrant and choke him on the spot ; but Preedie, 
 seeing his comrade's sudden rise of passion, took him by 
 the arm and drew him aside. 
 
 " You ask too much," said Preedie. 
 
 " I shall ask no less," said Ristack, " and now, Master 
 Plympton, there's no more to say, I think." 
 
 " Not another word," said Preedie, answering for his 
 friend. 
 
 " Bo's'n, signal for the carpenters," said Ristack. 
 
 The boatswain drew a pistol from his belt, and fired.
 
 HOW THE KING'S MEN MADE REBELS. 87 
 
 Plympton, moving away with Preedie, beckoned his neigh- 
 bors to follow him, and as they disappeared among the 
 undulations that gradually rose into the foothills of the 
 distant mountains, two boats put off from the Anne of 
 Dartmouth, and the demolition of Heart's Delight was 
 commenced.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF THE FOREST PRIMEVAL. 
 
 THE evicted villagers were just as busy in laying out 
 their new settlement as the fishing admirals were in 
 destroying the old one. The distant mountains slumbered 
 on all the same in the sunshine, the sea was calm as if in 
 utter disregard of man's happiness or misery, the flowers 
 blossomed in the valleys inland, the flag on the tiny fort 
 showed its colors in a gentle response to the breeze ; every- 
 thing on sea and shore wore an air of blissful peace. 
 
 A tent had been erected for Hannah, the child, and 
 Sally the nurse. The body of the favorite dog, Sampson, 
 had been brought along and buried in a copse of tamarack 
 and birch. On the bark of the tallest tree John Preedie 
 had cut the letter S, pending a more important memorial. 
 
 Mattresses and beds of skins were placed beneath the 
 trees on the other side of the valley. Fires were lighted as 
 a protection against wild animals and insects. 
 
 The forest, at the point where the settlement had been 
 commenced, needed no clearing. It was wide and open, with 
 a bright clear stream of water dancing through it, over 
 shining pebbles. It reminded one of the men, who hailed 
 from Derbyshire (having run away from Belperto go to sea), 
 of a bit of valley he knew as a boy near Buxton, the only 
 difference being that the brook he knew was full of trout, 
 so tame in the shallows that you could tickle them with your 
 hand, which was a fashion of fishing when he was a lad. 
 
 The forest, of which the valley was a piece of Nature's 
 clearing, was full of noble timber spruce, balsam-fir, 
 tamarack, white birch, and poplar. Open spaces, here and
 
 IN THE SHADO W OF THE FOREST PRIME VAL. 89 
 
 there, bore evidence to the general fertility of the district. 
 Flowers of many kinds brightened the scene. The wild 
 strawberry and raspberry were in bud. Maiden-hair fern 
 and flowering heaths abounded. Wild cherry trees were 
 shedding their snowy blossoms among the green grasses. 
 Here and there at bends in the stream, where it rested as 
 if to provide quiet pools for indolent fish or limpid beds for 
 water-lilies, the blue iris flourished on its banks. Water- 
 fowl, hitherto undisturbed by gun or dog, sailed about the 
 calm waters, and in the evening deer came out of the woods 
 to drink. 
 
 From marshy patches, deep down in marshy offshoots of 
 the valley, rose the rich perfume of lilies of the valley. 
 Childish stragglers from the camp found the wild lupin, 
 Jacob's ladder, Solomon's seal, and, more notable still, the 
 pitcher plant, its tubular leaves heavy with pure water. A 
 woman from Lincolnshire shed tears over a bunch of lilies 
 of the valley. They reminded her of the days when she 
 was a young and innocent child, roaming the woods of 
 Norton, where acres of the sweet, pure flower blossomed. 
 Little she thought in those days to come so far and suffer 
 so much before she saw the lovely flower again. Not, she 
 said, that she had been hungry and thirsty and had found 
 no relief life was hard enough at all times ; it had been 
 much harder for many than she had found it with her good, 
 honest man and yet she could not help crying at sight of 
 the lilies of the valley. She could shut her eyes with that 
 perfume about her and see the cottage where she had lived 
 as a girl, and the beck slipping along by the sedges at the 
 botton of the twenty-acre meadow. 
 
 The people were, truth to tell, mostly in a reminiscent 
 mood. They hardly realized their loss. Some of them felt 
 the incident of migration to Back Bay Valley as a holiday 
 picnic. There was something pleasant in being together, 
 all one family as it were. It reminded some of the old
 
 90 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 people of the first days of Heart's Delight ; but Back Bay 
 had the advantage of trees and grass and flowers and run- 
 ning brooks. At sunset, several of the men returned to 
 camp with their hands full of flowers. They straggled in 
 more like children than men ; and far away in the distance 
 could be heard a little company of pioneers singing the 
 chorus to an old ballad of the sea. 
 
 "John Preedie," said Master Plympton, taking a pinch of 
 snuff from Preedie's box, and proceeding at the same time 
 to fill his pipe with tobacco almost as black, " we must have 
 a strong and powerful ship." 
 
 " It would be a fine possession," said Preedie. 
 
 " Two ships for choice ; but one that's equal to any six 
 such as the Anne of Dar mouth" 
 
 "Yes," said Preedie, "on the lines of a king's frigate, with 
 a hull as high as a church and yards on her mainmast like 
 the wings of the fabled roc." 
 
 "You love hyperbole, Preedie, when you are talking of 
 ships." 
 
 " My master was a poet, Plympton had the gift of song 
 as the saying is, and was the very devil in action." 
 
 " How long did you sail with him ? " 
 
 " Seven years. And we had letters of marque, but 
 Captain Hoyland wasn't particular. It was fine business 
 while it lasted ; but it didn't last. Seven years was a 
 fair term," said Preedie. " Give me two, and I'll never 
 complain." 
 
 " Now look you, Preedie, you must leave this to-morrow. 
 They say the sloop we saw was from Salem ; they say she 
 bad been a slaver. Boston or Salem are your ports ; they 
 have been building ships fast as the stays would hold 'em. 
 I will provide the money." 
 
 " I am not without means, Master Plympton ; the venture 
 being to my approving, I am in with you body and purse." 
 
 " Did you like the business Master Hoyland followed ? "
 
 IN THE SHADO W OF THE FORES T PRIME VAL. 91 
 
 " I did not object ; if it had a spice of the right kind of 
 revolt or vengeance, as one may say, where the ship's 
 thunder and lightning smote a foe as well as won a fortune, 
 why, then, Master Plympton, I'd have liked it the better." 
 
 " That is the sort of work for you and me ! " said Plymp- 
 ton. " Seems to me that these are no days for loyal men 
 and true ; the false and the villain prosper ; the king either 
 has not the heart or the power to do what's right ; the 
 government's in the hands of such as Ristack and Rud- 
 dock ; they send us weak, time-serving governors ; specu- 
 lating merchants and money-grabbers make a market out of 
 us. I'm with the men of Boston and Salem ; I am for 
 taking a hand in the business of the sea." 
 
 " And I for vengeance, too, friend Plympton ; and since 
 they have turned us adrift and despoiled us of our homes, 
 insulted our women, and borne off to their ship the best 
 fellow and the most honest of all Heart's Delight, why, to 
 hell with allegiance that brings dishonor and a tyrannous 
 rule ! " 
 
 " There's Keith's smack, The Perth ; she'll serve you 
 for the trip. The weather's favorable," said Plympton. 
 " Bowers and the dwarf, with the Eastern man and Jim the 
 builder, might make up your crew. Doolan must stay by 
 me." 
 
 "Right," said Preedie, " I'll ship the four of 'em, handy 
 men and safe." 
 
 " You could put off to-morrow ? " 
 
 " We could ; might tack about a bit with a net. Best not 
 excite suspicion," said Preedie, with something in his mind 
 quite different from the Plympton plans of the moment. 
 
 " If you think right. But what suspicion can they 
 have ? " 
 
 " They'll suspect everything and provide for every emer- 
 gency." 
 
 " You think so ? " said Plympton.
 
 92 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " D'ye never think of a rescue, Plympton ? " asked 
 Preedie suddenly. 
 
 " I think of nothing else," said Plympton, " but I am 
 fearful of tightening Alan's irons ; they've got him, Preedie, 
 and we must not endanger his life by any rash, ill-digested 
 scheme of attack." 
 
 "By the Lord, Plympton, I am thinking that age has bred 
 in you such an amount of caution that it weighs down your 
 natural courage. I'm the man now to sneak a boat along- 
 side in the night and board the damned illegal prison, and 
 take Alan off at every hazard." 
 
 " I honor your spirit, Preedie, but we help his cause and 
 our own best by going slowly. Alan, cautious, would not be 
 where he is. Come round to my quarters. I have made 
 ready for your expedition papers, draughts, letters ; you'll 
 nothing lack, sailing into Salem. Rendezvous and flag, I 
 have all set forth ; and between now and then maybe I'll 
 ransom Keith, that we may have a master worthy of that 
 business of the sea upon which we've set our mind. Eh, 
 friend Preedie ? " 
 
 " I'm wi' ye to the death, and if we don't make these 
 ruffians and their imbecile royal master smart for it, why 
 then let's perish in the attempt." 
 
 " That's well said. But first we must provide a reason- 
 able safety for Hannah and the rest. It is war upon which 
 we are about to enter, and we must make our dispositions 
 accordingly. Come on, old friend, d'ye mind our winter 
 evenings ? Good fortune and ill, sunshine and storm, bide 
 close together, do they not ? " 
 
 They met Lavello, as they walked toward the rough hut 
 which had been run up for Plympton's accommodation. 
 Plympton's mind was too much occupied with schemes of 
 vengeance to be in tune for the mild and religious advice of 
 the priest. Indeed, the triumph of injustice and brutality 
 had so worked upon his otherwise gentle nature that he felt
 
 IN THE SHADO W OF THE FOREST PRIME VAL. 93 
 
 an inclination of general revolt against all constituted 
 authority, spiritual or otherwise. This feeling was inten- 
 sified by the hopeless condition of his daughter Hannah. 
 
 " My daughter ? " h,e said, as Lavello approached them. 
 
 " I was about to speak of her," said the priest. 
 
 " Then don't delay. How is she ? " 
 
 In all the priest's association with Plympton, he had had 
 no experience of the peremptory tone in which the master 
 now addressed him. 
 
 " I fear she is no better," said the priest. 
 
 " Nor will ever be," said Plympton, " spite of all our 
 prayers. Oh, my God, why persecutest thou me ? " 
 
 "Nay, nay," said the priest, " be patient, dear friend." 
 
 " It is easy to preach patience." 
 
 "And with the help of God and the Church it is easy to 
 practice it," said the priest. 
 
 " What can you know of that, who never lost a wife, who 
 never had a child at death's door ? Now is the time to show 
 what you can do. Now is the time to pray and count your 
 beads, to swing the censer and say the Mass, to prostrate 
 yourself and ask that it may be given to you, to cry and ye 
 shall be heard. Oh, my God, I shall go mad ! " 
 
 Plympton flung himself upon the ground, and wept aloud. 
 Preedie and the priest gazed at each other. They had not 
 suspected this possibility of passion in one whom they all 
 looked upon as having full control of himself ; as one who 
 would bear any shock with fortitude. 
 
 " Let us leave him for a while," said Preedie ; " he is 
 strangely overcome ; he will be the better for this heart's 
 defeat of the head.'"' 
 
 " I grieve to see him thus," said the priest, walking apart 
 with Preedie. 
 
 " And I, dear sir," said Preedie ; " but he is sorely wrought 
 upon by his love of Keith and Hannah, and bitterly smitten 
 in the overthrow of Heart's Delight."
 
 94 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " I would I could do more than pray for him," said the 
 priest. "\ would not hold it wrong to fight his battle with 
 carnal weapons, but I'll go pray. Master Preedie, do you 
 minister to him physically." 
 
 The priest handed Preedie a flask of brandy, and went to 
 his little open-air altar beneath a clump of whispering pines.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A PRISONER AND IN IRONS. 
 
 ALAN KEITH lay in the hold of Ristack's vessel, dazed, 
 stunned, sore in mind and body. He had fought like a 
 lion, only to be beaten down and fettered as if he were still 
 a brute, untamed and dangerous. 
 
 The hold was dark, and stifling with the odor of fish. 
 The sounds of life on board the ship came to him dim and 
 faint. The wash and slop of the waves was all that he 
 could hear. He was weak with the loss of blood. His 
 manliness seemed to go out of him in tears. He imagined 
 his wife subjected to insult and injury, and when he did 
 rouse himself it was in a half hysterical fashion. The 
 memory of his days of happiness tortured him. His obsti- 
 nate clinging to Heart's Delight occurred to him now as a 
 crime. He ought to have been guided by Plympton, whose 
 love for his daughter must have been of a keener instinct 
 than his own. Why had he not taken the old man's advice? 
 Why will youth insist upon buying its own bitter experience ? 
 
 These thoughts came to him in his loneliness, happily, for 
 the time being, to be followed by something akin to insensi- 
 bility. 
 
 He could not think out any consecutive idea. He seemed 
 to have forgotten everything, as if he were dead. -More 
 than once he must have been delirious. He thought he was 
 in purgatory, did not remember what had happened, where 
 he was, who he was ; and he would fall a-sobbing like a 
 child. 
 
 It was the first time in Alan's strong life that he had 
 been under control ; the first time that he had ever been 
 
 95
 
 g6 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 worsted in any undertaking. From his earliest boyhood he 
 had been a leader and a master of men. In every game of 
 physical skill he had led the way at Perth. In his teens he 
 was an able-bodied seaman. There was no nasty bit of 
 navigation on the Scottish coast that he had not conquered. 
 The boldest of sailors, he was the most expert of fishermen. 
 But for that first sight of Hannah standing at her father's 
 door he might, instead of being chained in a floating prison, 
 have been master of his own vessel, with a crack crew in 
 every port. He had in his modest way told Plympton of 
 his position and prospects. For three years his father, a 
 prosperous merchant and shipowner, had been waiting for 
 his return to endow him with all that a man of his character 
 and ambition could desire. 
 
 When at last Alan began to recover the balance of his 
 mind he could not guess how long he had been a prisoner. 
 He ran over the events which had preceded his successful 
 arrest. The quiet talk with his wife, his romantic plan of 
 leading the villagers to a peaceful valley and being their 
 savior ; the sudden alarm, his seizure, pinned to the earth 
 before he could strike a blow, his unavailing struggle, the 
 gag that was forced between his teeth, the dragging of him 
 along the shore, the whispered orders to his captors, the 
 arrival at the boats, being flung in and literally trampled 
 upon, hauled up the ship's side, dashed upon the deck; 
 and the brutal, " Damn-you-what-do-you-think-of-yourself- 
 no\v?" uttered by Ristack ; all this presently came back 
 to him. But he remembered no more. Ristack must have 
 struck him as he gave him this brutal welcome. It must 
 have been hours afterward before he came to his senses. 
 Merciful Heavens ! were they going to leave him here to 
 starve, to die, to rot ? He tried to move. He was pinioned. 
 Both legs and arms were useless. He cried out, but his 
 voice seemed to fail in his throat. 
 
 He prayed to God for patience and for help. Not for his
 
 A PRISONER AND IN IRONS. 97 
 
 own sake, but for hers, for the sake of their child, and for 
 Plympton. His prayers were not in words so much as in 
 thoughts. Having prayed, he cursed, uttered the deepest 
 and blackest oaths, swore the most deadly vengeance, and 
 mentioned the names of the men he hoped to tear limb 
 from limb. Bentz, Ruddock, Ristack ! These names he 
 registered in his inmost soul and the name of the Anne of 
 Dartmouth. 
 
 But nothing happened. 
 
 Time went on. The waves washed up against the bul- 
 warks. The sea slopped and swished against the prow. He 
 could tell that it was a calm night. He thought of the stars 
 that were shining on Heart's Delight. 
 
 How could there be all this peace when tyfanny and 
 murder were afloat ? How could Heaven look on and see 
 the sacredness of a man's home outraged, husband torn 
 from wife, wife from husband, and for what ? He held his 
 breath with horror when he thought of Hannah in the 
 power of the man Ruddock and the fiend Ristack. He 
 had always hated Bentz, though his absence from Heart's 
 Delight for so many months had hushed Alan's resentment 
 into forgetfulness. It had only been by way of what Plymp- 
 ton had considered a necessary warning, that he had informed 
 Alan of his encounter with Bentz in regard to his proposal 
 for Hannah. As he thought of this, his heart almost ceased 
 beating. 
 
 Presently, in such a voice as he had left, he began to talk 
 to himself as if he were someone else : " Patience, man," 
 he said ; " ye're weak enough in body to fall, even if ye 
 could pick the locks o' these infernal irons. Dinna beat 
 your life oot agen the bars. It's a mercy ye're alive at all. 
 Why, man, if it werena for thoughts o' Hannah ye'd stand 
 a' this wi'oot a murmur ! I call to mind many's the time 
 ye've torn your flesh after an eagle's nest, and been wi'oot 
 food the day and neight, and thocht naught aboot it J
 
 98 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 Patience, man ! Eh, but how long hae I lain here ? How 
 long ? It maun be half a week ! O God, gie me strength 
 and patience ! " 
 
 There was a movement a footstep he was sure of it. 
 He held his breath. He listened with his body and soul. 
 His eyes seemed to be starting out of his head ; but the 
 darkness was as black as ever. 
 
 " S-s-h, man, I'm a friend," said a voice. 
 
 " God save you ! " said Alan. 
 
 " And ye the same," was the reply. 
 
 "Whaare ye?" 
 
 " Donald Nicol, syne I can remember," was the answer. 
 
 The owner of the voice now stood close to Alan and was 
 bending over him. 
 
 " Are ye badly hurt ? " 
 
 " I fear it," said Alan. 
 
 " Gie me yer hand," said Nicol. " That's reight." 
 
 Alan found a bottle in his hand. 
 
 " Can ye reach yer mouth ? " 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 " Wait a wee ; ye maun sing sma', man ; it's like enough I 
 hae been watched. S-s-h ! I dinna ken the trick o' them 
 irons, but we'll investigate them the noo. I'll first assist ye to 
 a drink. Let me get houdo' yer head. That's it. Pull at the 
 bottle ; it's meat and drink and life to a man in distress." 
 
 Alan required no invitation. If it had been a poisoned 
 dose he would soon have been a dead man. 
 
 " Now houd yer soul in patience, and I'll come again. 
 Twa o' yer fellow-countrymen hae sworn to get ye oot o' 
 this, and I'm one of the twa." 
 
 " God bless you ! " said Alan. 
 
 " But we'll hae muckle little chance for the next hour or 
 twa, and ye maun just lie quiet ; that deevil o' an admiral, 
 a curse light on him, is gaeing ashore after the midday 
 \vatch. S-s-h ! the bo's'n's comin' to see ye."
 
 A PRISONER AND IN IKONS. 99 
 
 Alan's friend in need crept away, and almost at the same 
 moment the boatswain, with a lantern, attended by a couple 
 of seamen, came down into the hold. 
 
 " It's the admiral's order we don't let ye starve, here's a 
 wedge of junk and a biscuit," said the boatswain. 
 
 Keith moved as if to take the proffered food. 
 
 " Here, Dymoke, loosen his right hand." 
 
 One of the two sailors unfastened the irons that gripped 
 the prisoner's hand. 
 
 " Here, be smart," said the boatswain. 
 
 Alan took the junk and began to gnaw it. The hope that 
 filled his mind encouraged him to eat that he might keep 
 up his strength. 
 
 " Have ye naught to say ? " asked the boatswain. 
 
 " Naught," Alan answered, breaking the biscuit against 
 his irons. 
 
 " Surely, eh ? " 
 
 Alan made no reply, 
 
 " It might answer to be civil." 
 
 " What do you want me to say ? " Alan asked savagely. 
 " What I think ? " 
 
 " Aye, what you think." 
 
 " That you're a base coward to serve such a master as 
 Ristack," said Alan. 
 
 " If ye were not a prisoner and in irons I'd answer that, 
 my lad, in a way you'd not forget," said the boatswain. 
 
 " We've signed articles and have to obey orders, and if we 
 dinnat it's mutiny," said Dymoke, in attendance on the 
 boatswain. 
 
 " Aye," said the other sailor. 
 
 " Maybe he doesn't know what it is to have to obey 
 orders," said the boatswain. 
 
 " I know what it is to have a soul to be saved ! " said 
 Alan. 
 
 " Don't you think nobody else has a soul ! " said the boat-
 
 too UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 swain. " You fought as if you didn't when we brought you 
 aboard ; I've got a bruise or two in token thereof." 
 
 Alan once more subsided into silence. 
 
 "The doctor's sent you a plaster," said Dymoke. "I 
 towd him you'd a pike wound in the head ; here, man, let's 
 wash it for ye ! " 
 
 " I want none o' your plaster," said Alan. 
 
 " Nay, be advised," said Dymoke gently ; " give me leave, 
 boatswain, it's the doctor's orders." 
 
 " Why didn't the doctor come hissen ? " asked the boat- 
 swain. 
 
 " The admiral forbade it," said Dymoke, who by this 
 time was sponging Alan's head with almost a woman's 
 tenderness. 
 
 "Curse me," said the boatswain, "if I don't think you 
 favor this rebel Keith and his fellow grabbers o' the king's 
 lands ! If you do, have a care, or the admiral will make a 
 triangle of you and flog you till you scream for mercy hard 
 as old Trinder, the carpenter, did last fishin' season." 
 
 " He winnat flog me," said Dymoke quietly, " and if he 
 did, he'd get no cry for mercy out o' me ! " 
 
 " Does he ropesend his men ? " asked Alan, submitting 
 to the plaster and the binding up of his head with a hand- 
 kerchief and feeling the stronger for Dymoke's kindly 
 touch. 
 
 " Does he ?" sneered the boatswain, " aye, and it gener- 
 ally follows being put in irons ; so mind your eye, my. 
 buck of Heart's Delight ! " 
 
 "And let your thief of a skipper mind his," said Alan. 
 
 " Hold "ard," said the boatswain. " I'll not swear I won't 
 report them words." 
 
 ' Nay dinnat mind him, bo's'n, he doesna mean it ; 
 but ye'd better tak old Bowers for your model, the least 
 said soonest mended." 
 
 Dymoke pressed Alan's arm as he mentioned Bowers,
 
 A PRISONER AND IN IRONS. IOI 
 
 and Alan checked his anger, with a sudden regard to diplo- 
 macy." 
 
 " That's reight," he said, " and I ask the bo's'n's pardon ! 
 Do you know old Bowers, bo's'n ? " 
 
 " No. Who's Bowers ! " 
 
 " Oh, he's a half-saved, worn-out old mariner ; me and 
 Sandy Scot knows him." 
 
 There was something in the tone of the man's voice, 
 more particularly when he mentioned Sandy Scot, that 
 sounded like a hint of aid and hope. Alan, however, 
 checked the reply he was about to make, giving the man a 
 responsive sign of faith. It was well that he did so, for the 
 boatswain, with an impatient gesture, said : " Here, come 
 on, mate, we're wasting time ; " and as the two stood once 
 more outside the stuffy odors of the hold the boatswain 
 remarked, "Mind what you're about, Dymoke ; seems to 
 me you and Sandy Scot's a bit too close. I see you cover 
 him when he slipped down the side into the boat that 
 brought yonder priest out.- I can see through a four-inch 
 deal as well as most, and though I don't love the captain 
 any more than you do, I'm going to stand by, as in duty 
 bound, whatever happens." 
 
 " It's right as you should, bo's'n ; no offense," said 
 Dymoke, an old Lincolnshire salt, who had spent his early 
 boyhood beating about the coast and trading mostly to 
 Boston and Grimsby. 
 
 " And aint it right as you should ? What do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " I don't mean mor'n I say. I knows my duty ; but I'm 
 no slave, and I winnat side wi' tyranny." 
 
 " Tyranny ! " exclaimed the boatswain. 
 
 " My fayther and mother, and a heap out o* Boston, 
 sailed for Salem on that account ; they couldn't abide not 
 bein' 'lowed their right freedom ; and I spose it's in the 
 blood."
 
 102 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " Oh, you're a fool, Dymoke ; we're all Englishmen, but 
 we must uphold discipline ! " 
 
 " That's so," said Dymoke, wiping his lips with the back 
 of his hand, and trying to moisten his mouth, which was 
 dry with suppressed passion ; for he sympathized with 
 Keith, and hated to think of a fellow-creature lying down 
 below, a victim to the malice and tyranny of Ristack, whom 
 he knew to be a boastful brute and a coward. 
 
 " The admiral wants you," said the mate, stepping up at 
 the moment and addressing the boatswain, who straightway 
 left the able-bodied Dymoke to his duties and his reflec- 
 tions. 
 
 A few minutes later, a crew was told off to man the 
 admiral's boat. Neither Donald Nicol nor Sandy Scot 
 was called, but Dymoke was among the crew named for 
 duty ashore. As he passed Nicol there was a knowing 
 exchange of looks that was in sympathy with the sudden 
 hope of the prisoner that he was not to be left entirely to 
 the unrestricted malice of Ristack. Though there was 
 nothing more definite in the fear of Ristack than there was 
 in the hope of Keith, the admiral ordered a double guard 
 over the hold. 
 
 The boatswain's whistle sounded shrilly in the summer 
 air. The arrogant shriek of it gave a snap to the freshness 
 of the pleasant breeze. The tall spars fairly shone against 
 the blue sky. There was something spick-and-span about 
 the whole appearance of the vessel as she rose and fell with 
 a gentle motion upon the deep. She looked more like a 
 king's ship than a fisherman. Enough had already been 
 done by American privateers, and French and Spanish 
 cruisers, to compel the owners and masters of British fishing 
 ships engaged at Newfoundland to give extra equipment to 
 vessels already in the service and to put into it new and well 
 armed vessels that might with skill and courage hold their 
 own against the heavy odds that English captains were
 
 A PRISONER AND IN IRONS. 103 
 
 accustomed to meet. The Anne of Dartmouth was no 
 ordinary craft. The one long and formidable gun referred 
 to in an earlier chapter was by no means her only arma- 
 ment. She carried a very hornet's nest of guns, besides 
 cutlasses, axes, grappling-irons, and other appliances for 
 battle and for victory. At first blush it might seem that 
 this was rather overdone in a merchant ship ; but the Anne 
 was Ristack's own vessel. He was no mere servant of 
 a merchant company, no master at the beck and call of 
 London or Plymouth traders. He sailed his own ship and 
 had his own yards at Dartmouth, besides holding shares in 
 other fishing enterprises as one of a company of London 
 merchant venturers. He had come out to the fisheries 
 equipped for every emergency. A man of mark indeed was 
 Admiral Ristack, but without any very definite record of 
 bravery or courage. He had risen to prosperity upon other 
 men's shoulders. He was not the man to fight unless he 
 saw his way to an easy victory or was compelled to strike in 
 self-defense ; and he had lived through such a long run of 
 luck that he had grown reckless as he was arrogant, presum- 
 ing upon his good fortune and rejoicing in his animal and 
 sensual passions. ^ 
 
 For all that, it must have been a fascinating sight, the 
 preparations to man the boat, the men skipping gayly along 
 the deck to the cheery command of "Away you go!" 
 The crew literally tumbled over the ship's sides and dropped 
 into their places, the brisk little coxswain at the tiller, the 
 bedizened admiral in the stern. The boat leaped through 
 the water, throwing up a fountain of spray, as she made for 
 the shore where the sad hearts of the doomed settlement 
 awaited the destroyers. 
 
 " The man Dymoke's a brawchiel," said Donald Nicol to 
 Sandy Scot, as they swung from the yards, engaged upon 
 some simple duty. 
 
 " That is he," said Sandy, " a dozen such and we might
 
 104 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 hoist the rebel flag and set up in business, wi' Alan for our 
 captain and ye, Donald, for his chief mate." 
 
 "Nay, man, I'd be willin' to serve under ye baith ; I'm 
 just sick o' this deevlish service, wi' a brute beast, while 
 there's better wark to be done, and prize money for the 
 winning o' it." 
 
 " S-s-sh ! it's the bo's'n's shadow as strikes forrard, he's 
 got the ears of a lynx." 
 
 " I thought it was eyes as they was most favored wi'," 
 Sandy replied. 
 
 "It's a' the same," said Donald; "keepyer ain eyes on 
 me ; it's deeth or glory the neight, Sandy ! " 
 
 The boatswain's whistle broke in upon the conversation, 
 and, glancing landward, the two friends of Alan Keith saw 
 the landing of Ristack and his crew. Half-an-hour later 
 they were witnesses of the signal for the carpenters, and the 
 dispatch of the longboat with a company that looked like 
 British pioneers with their axes and hammers, instead of men 
 on an expedition of shameless destruction.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SIGNALS OF FRIENDSHIP AND DANGER. 
 
 RISTACK was a proper villain. He hated those whom he 
 injured. From those whom he had received favors he 
 burnt out his obligations with wrong. It is to be hoped 
 this type of man is infrequent. But it exists. It was not 
 necessary in those days to be a Spanish Don to be a wretch, 
 or a French Mounseer to be a coward. Perhaps Ristack 
 was some mongrel, who could not be in very truth counted 
 an Englishman. 
 
 The opportunity to be a rogue has been known to cor- 
 rupt honest men. There are creatures who cannot endure 
 success ; it makes them tyrants brutes. 
 
 Ristack, in his early days, had fawned and sneaked had 
 been beaten for his pains with sticks and staves. He had 
 fawned all the same skunked, crept, crawled, made his 
 way, married money, stole money, got money ; and when 
 he could strike out in return he had used his power with a 
 hard, brutal strength ; had drunk and lied ; fought when he 
 must, compromised when he could ; had broken down and 
 slain, but with the legal weapons of ill-treatment and harsh- 
 ness, two women who had been fools enough to marry him, 
 each with a little fortune ; and here he was at Heart's 
 Delight at the height of his success, a noisy, blustering, 
 brutal thing, full of evil, and glorying in his deviltry. He 
 had fairly reveled in the destruction of Heart's Delight. 
 His hatred of Plympton was unprovoked, except through a 
 consciousness of Plympton's superiority ; but Alan Keith 
 had spurned him openly and dared him to do his worst ; 
 that was enough to set fire to his vengeful passions.
 
 106 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 If Heart's Delight had been the captured stronghold of 
 an active and bitter enemy, he could not have shown greater 
 satisfaction in knocking it to pieces. " The accursed in- 
 solence ! " he was heard to exclaim, as he took part with his 
 men in laying low some more than usually pretentious bit of 
 woodwork, " to build themselves houses to laze out their lives 
 on stolen land, to defy the admirals of the king, and so on ; " 
 justifying himself to his men and glorying in his ill-gotten 
 power. It was in the nature of the man to carry his villainy 
 to its furthest possible point. 
 
 " Go, man," said Ristack, in the midst of the wreck ashore ; 
 " Master Lester Bentz, I say, old fellow, go your ways to the 
 new settlement ; you'll find her there, the lass you love, as 
 you call it ; the lass they name Hannah Keith ; be her 
 friend, get her aboard the Anne ; tell her Alan Keith has 
 sent for her ; tell her I'm willing to release him ; give her 
 this ring ; I tore it out of his neck gear when we had the 
 scuffle aboard ; take it, man ; she will believe in thee with 
 that talisman to back thee. Ah, ah bring her aboard ! " 
 
 Bentz took the ring. His cunning nature was moved at 
 Ristack's suggestion. 
 
 " They've rigged her up a tent, I hear, fit for a queen ; go, 
 lad ; go, come back and tell us how the land lies." 
 
 " They say the woman's sick," Bentz replied. 
 
 " Sick ! Why, of course, the artful hussy's sick ; she's sick 
 for her man go and console her ; that's what the landsman 
 calls it when at sea ; go and console her, lad." 
 
 Bentz disappeared. He had no part in the active duties 
 of the carpenters and mariners of the first Admiral of the 
 Fleet. 
 
 "I'd half a mind to go myself. But it wouldn't do ; them 
 London lords might see personal malversation and self- 
 seeking in it ; I can hear that stiff-necked old coon from 
 Bristol saying as much when the case of Heart's Delight 
 comes before the Council, if I did such a thing ; otherwise,
 
 SIGNALS OF FRIENDSHIP AND DANGER. 107 
 
 stuff me with tobacco juice but I'd lay siege to my fine lady's 
 tent ! " 
 
 This was the theme upon which Ristack rejoiced to dwell, 
 even after the sun had gone down and the Anne had laid 
 aside her usual discipline for high festival. 
 
 The bite of active work had been relaxed. Extra allow- 
 ances ot grog had been served. The men who had been 
 ashore had already tasted the sweets of unusual duties in 
 certain irregularities of liquor. 
 
 Moreover, fishing was to be commenced on the morrow. 
 All the signs were favorable. The cod had been seen to 
 windward chasing the caplin, which for some twenty-four 
 hours had thickened the waters of the bay. Heart's 
 Delight was now really the fishing admirals'. The service 
 of the fleet would meet with no obstruction, hardly with 
 competition. Ristack had resolved to occupy Plympton's 
 house ashore. He would live like a fighting cock. Already 
 he had figured in his mind what things he would send ashore. 
 St. John's should contribute the necessary furniture. He 
 would have a rare time. 
 
 This spirit of lawlessness had taken possession of the ship. 
 It was a lawless age. Englishmen did not eat Englishmen 
 as a rule, but the spirit of destruction spreads. The same 
 spirit of destruction that directs heroic action, ill-directed, 
 will sacrifice women and children in some so-called patriotic 
 fury. The experiences of the day, followed by undue allow- 
 ances of rum, had stirred the miscellaneous crew of the 
 Anne of Dartmouth already into quarrels and disputes ; 
 occasion offering, it would have led them into any excess 
 of right or wrong. They drank, and sang, and quarreled. 
 Sandy Scot and Donald Nicol, who were intensely sober, 
 took on the appearance of conviviality with the rest, and 
 went on playing their desperate game with the able-bodied 
 Dymoke. It was part of their plan that Scot should quarrei 
 with Dymoke, and there was little strength in the pretended
 
 lo8 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 knockdown blow that Dymoke gave Scot as a conclusion to 
 a careful harangue which Scot delivered against the destruc- 
 tion of Heart's Delight. It was with considerable satisfaction 
 that Scot at once found two of the least drunk of the crew 
 by his side, men who, while they did their duty, did not hold 
 with Ristack's views of his. Half an hour later these two 
 men had been won over to the side of Sandy Scot and 
 Donald Nicol ; and the conspirators were alive with a well 
 disguised watchfulness, while they seemed not the least reck- 
 less of the drunken crew. 
 
 " And that's all you got for your pains," said Ristack, 
 addressing Bentz, whom the admiral was entertaining with 
 his colleague and friend Ruddock. They had dined right 
 heartily, had drank each a bottle of such Madeira as is, 
 alas ! no longer common afloat or ashore. Ristack had 
 unloosened his belt, had laid his knife and pistols on a grim 
 old chest that was packed with arms, and had ordered rum. 
 
 " She was sick unto death, they said," Bentz replied. 
 
 " Who said ? " 
 
 " The priest." 
 
 " The priest be hanged what say you, Ruddock ? " 
 
 " The same," said Ruddock. " I'd have listened to no 
 priest." 
 
 " What the hell have priests to do here, is what I say," 
 Ristack replied, pouring out a hornful of rum, a great 
 jorum of which his boy had placed upon the table. 
 
 " Did you see the wench's tent ? " 
 
 " No," said Bentz. " They would not let me enter the 
 precincts of the new settlement." 
 
 " Wouldn't let you ! Ah, ah, by all the fish in the sea 
 but they shall ! Wouldn't let you ! Who wouldn't ?" 
 
 " Master Plympton and his Irishman. They were sen- 
 tinels at the bay end of the valley." 
 
 " Sentinels ! A murrain on them, I'll be her sentinel 
 to-morrow night. What a poor creature you must be ! "
 
 SIGNALS OF FRIENDSHIP AND DANGER. 109 
 
 Ristack went on drinking, while Ruddock broke up a 
 plug of tobacco and stuffed it into his thin jaw, which 
 looked like an ape's with an abnormally large nut in process 
 of cracking. 
 
 " I am not a fighting man, as you know," said Bentz. 
 
 "I am," said Ruddock. " First come, first served. The 
 admiral with his usual ' fair doos ' says Bentz has the 
 first claim on the belle of Heart's Delight ; and so we allow 
 you to take the precedence as the First takes precedence of 
 the Vice, and the Vice of the Rear Admiral ; but it's my 
 turn now ; and I'll bet you a guinea to a shillin' they don't 
 put me off with their sentinelship." 
 
 " Give us your hand," said Ristack, grasping Ruddock's 
 red fist, " that's my spirit, old as I am. I'd back myself 
 to distance you both in a downright genuine love affair 
 where pluck counts for beauty. Ha ! ah ! I never was a 
 beauty ; but I've been a buck ; and as for women, why who 
 cares about such paying out and such muffled oars to get at 
 'em ! Why, in Guinea you can buy them by the dozen for a 
 baccer box or an old knife aye, Venuses compared with 
 yon pink-and-white innanity. Sick is she ? So far as I'm 
 consarned she maybe sick and dead, too, the sighing, lack- 
 adaisical penn'orth. I don't care ! " 
 
 "Well, I do care," said Ruddock, "and I'll have her on 
 board to-morrow night, considering as Bentz resigns." 
 
 " Nay, I did not say so," Bentz replied. 
 
 " Drink, Bentz, drink ! " said Ristack, passing the jug of 
 rum that was as brown as mahogany and strong as Jamaica 
 made it. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, the game's in your own hands ; hum- 
 ble me that stuck-up, saucy, insolent Keith, and his fine- 
 tongued father-in-law, and you may settle the rest between 
 you. Fight it out, and the devil take the hindmost. Bring 
 her on board, I say, to see her man, nothing easier. Bentz 
 has the loadstone that'll bring her ; I thought of its useful-
 
 no UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 ness when I took it from the blamed thief ; bring her to see 
 her man ; nothing easier. When I was a lad in Dartmouth 
 I knew how to wheedle the girls, and they were worth it. 
 Yes, by the Lord, they were none of your cheap settlers, 
 but the pick of the land, I tell you. Here's to 'em as I 
 knew 'em, and to the devil with all cowards ! " 
 
 Ruddock drank glass for glass with Ristack, and Bentz 
 took his share. They were a sinister-looking company. 
 Ruddock still wore his fanciful barbaric dress, with a thick 
 gold chain round his neck, his strong vulpine mouth in grim 
 contrast with the coarse, loose, flabby lips of Ristack and the 
 puritanical shifty mouth of Bentz. 
 
 The porthole of the cabin was open. The night had 
 grown very dark. The column of light from the captain's 
 cabin must have penetrated the darkness like a long hot 
 finger. The cabin was lighted with a powerful oil lamp, 
 that swung from the low ceiling. It left dark corners in 
 the apartment, but played fitfully upon sundry weapons that 
 hung upon the walls. The brown jug upon the table with 
 a silver carafe of water that was only used now and then by 
 Bentz or Ruddock, and the heavy horns out of which the 
 men were drinking, made a fine picture of still life, flanked 
 as the jug was with a great leaden tobacco box, and a broad 
 knife in its leather sheath that Ruddock had taken from his 
 belt for ease and comfort. 
 
 They had been sitting some time over their liquor. The 
 effect of it was different in all three. Bentz grew mo're 
 cunning with every glass. Ruddock developed a jealousy 
 of his colleague and patron. Ristack became brutally coarse 
 and criminally vicious in his cups. His small piggish eyes 
 emitted malignant flashes as he plotted against his victims. 
 His face was red with robustuous and ill-conditioned 
 inflammation. 
 
 " Curse me, but I'd like to see the Plympton lass aboard," 
 he said ; " and a murrain on her Scotch villain ! Husband
 
 SIGNALS OF FRIENDSHIP AND DANGER III 
 
 or no husband, I'll swing him from the yardarm yet. Did 
 you note the swine's sneer this Plympton, this father of the 
 settlement ? Ah ! ah ! We've made a settlement of it ! 
 They won't know it to-morrow .if they see it." 
 
 " I conclude, Admiral Ristack, it cannot be questioned 
 that you, with full authority and according to law, had the 
 right to destroy the place," said Ruddock. 
 
 " Right ! Ruddock, what's the matter ? Do you forget 
 who made you ?" 
 
 " I suppose God made me, same as he made others," said 
 Ruddock. 
 
 " I made you, Ristack I, Tobias Zacharay Ristack. I 
 made you ! Is that so, or is it not so ? Speak, man 1" 
 
 "Dear friend," said Ruddock, filling his glass, "I 
 thought you were asking me a question out of the Cate- 
 chism." 
 
 " I was, I tell you a question out of my catechism. 
 Answer me that Who made you ? " 
 
 " Tobias Zacharay Ristack, Admiral of the Fishing Fleet 
 of Heart's Delight," said Ruddock. 
 
 " When you are asked that question again answer it, d'ye 
 hear ! " 
 
 "And who's the best friend and ally you ever had, the 
 best second in command ? " asked Ruddock, emboldened by 
 his tenth glass of spirits. 
 
 " Ruddock the ready ! " the admiral replied, " Ruddock 
 the judicious and the sly ! Ah, ah, you know you are, 
 Ruddock ; sly as the devil. But curse me, I like you, Rud- 
 dock, and you shall advance next to me next, mark you. 
 Next ! " 
 
 " I look for no higher honor," said Ruddock. 
 
 " Mind you don't," said Ristack. " What do you say, 
 Master Bentz, eh ? And which of you's to have the gal, the 
 belle of Heart's Delight, eh ? Which ? Will you fight for 
 her ? Will you fight this Scotch devil, Master Bentz ? "
 
 112 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " Thank you, Admiral Ristack, I am not a fighting man, 
 as you know, though I admire valor." 
 
 " But you'd fight for this siren, this Venus, this Cleo- 
 patra, eh?" 
 
 " I'd do almost anything to win her," said Bentz. 
 
 " Go on ; drink, man," said Ristack, pouring out a glassful 
 of liquor and pushing it before him, "to win her, man. 
 What does it matter whether you win her or not. By Satan 
 and all the imps ; how I do hate the whole of that Plympton 
 and Keith crew ! " 
 
 He tightened his belt and half drew his knife as he 
 uttered the exclamation, adding, as he leaned forward 
 toward Bentz, " Did you ever kill a man, Master Bentz ! " 
 
 " No, thank God ! " said Bentz. 
 
 " You'd rather persecute and worry them to death," said 
 Ruddock, " it's safer." 
 
 "Have you ?" said Ristack, addressing Ruddock. 
 
 " I don't want to brag," said Ruddock. " I have served as 
 a volunteer on a king's ship, and seen service." 
 
 " Seen service ! Curse me, but I could spin you a yarn 
 that would make your flesh creep ; we were boarded by 
 a pirate off the Azores ! Bentz, pass the rum ; you drink 
 like a fish, and sit and guzzle as silently. Look here, my 
 hearties, have any of us seen that cursed high and mighty 
 Scot Keith since we've had him aboard ! No. A plague on 
 every mother's son of us but we'll have this Keith up and 
 make him drink to the fishing admirals of Heart's Delight." 
 
 He rose as he spoke, unsheathed his knife, laid it upon 
 the table, and called for the mate. 
 
 " Fetch the prisoner Keith; I would have a word with him." 
 
 "Aye, sir," said the mate. 
 
 "Keep the irons on him." 
 
 "Aye, sir." 
 
 " Tell him I want to oh, tell him what the devil you 
 please."
 
 SIGNALS OF FRIENDSHIP AND DANGER. 113 
 
 ''Aye, sir," said the mate. 
 
 " Make no trouble ; bring him quiet ; no disturbance." 
 
 "Right, sir," said the mate as he left the cabin. 
 
 Keith was only too willing to obey the admiral's orders. 
 Anything was preferable to the dark damp hole in which he 
 was languishing. Moreover his mind was troubled with 
 hopes and fears. Nicol, in some unaccountable way, had suc- 
 ceeded in visiting him not more than an hour previously. 
 His faithful fellow-countryman had informed him that he 
 had been able to send a message to John Preedie, one of 
 Keith's best friends, intimating that if a "boat, not to say a 
 bark, could be handy thereabouts it might be within the 
 range of possibility that the Anne would have a passenger 
 for her, perhaps more ; and the signal was agreed also. 
 Nicol had wandered on in a whisper, uttering various hints 
 and warnings ; and had disappeared before Keith could 
 rightly understand all that he wanted to convey to him. 
 The night was favorable, and the men would all be drunk 
 except he and Sandy Scot. When therefore Keith was sent 
 for to the captain's cabin he obeyed as quickly as his chains 
 would permit, and thought that he might be advancing the 
 schemes of his friends, whatever they might be. 
 
 But it was very far from being any part of Donald Nicol's 
 arrangements that Alan should be hauled up before Admiral 
 Ristack.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 BOWERS THE SILENT DELIVERS HIS MESSAGE. 
 
 ST. JOHN'S was too busy with her own affairs to pay any 
 attention to John Preedie's unusual equipment of the Perth. 
 She had come round from Heart's Delight for certain new 
 nets and appliances for the fisheries. Who cared or noticed 
 whether she took them out or not ? St. John's did not love 
 Keith or Plympton. She admired them. They were strong 
 men and prosperous. Heart's Delight was more than a 
 rival of St. John's ;' it was like a little independent kingdom, 
 that was a standing rebuke to the larger and more important 
 community living under the immediate eye of official govern, 
 ment and inspection. The strongest men of Newfoundland 
 somehow drifted to Heart's Delight, and accepted the inde- 
 pendent and unofficial government firstly of David Plympton, 
 and latterly of Plympton and Keith. 
 
 There was news of trouble between these hardy settlers 
 and the fishing admirals. St. John's raHher rejoiced in 
 this, feeling assured that Heart's Delight would not submit 
 as tamely as St. John's had done to the tyranny of the 
 floating magistracy. Beyond this passing thought St. John's 
 gave the news no further consideration. The codfish were 
 crowding into the feeding grounds and that was the one 
 great news of the year, and for the time being St. John's 
 cared for nothing else. 
 
 All this favored the easy completion of John Preedie's 
 arrangements. He had got the Perth under weigh with 
 incredible speed. She was a trim little vessel. You might 
 call her smack or bark ; Keith used to speak of her as 
 his bonnie wee Perth. She usually combined in her fishing 
 
 114
 
 BO WERS THE SILEN T DELI VERB HIS MESS A GE. 115 
 
 service with one or two other Heart's Delight craft working 
 both net and line ; but on this occasion she took on board 
 neither the seine, the cod net, the trap, the gillow, nor the 
 hook and line ; she had a new kind of fishing in view. 
 
 If the rival fishermen of St. John's had not been too busy 
 to notice the Perth, or so jealous in their rivalry that 
 they were all hurrying up with their own fishing devices, 
 they would have wondered why Mr. John Preedie was taking 
 in cutlasses, muskets, and pistols, not to mention knives and 
 a curious kind of headgear that looked suspiciously like a 
 captain's boarding cap, instead of the customary peaceful 
 instruments of destruction applicable to the seafaring of 
 June or August off Newfoundland. 
 
 Nick, the builder, and Damian, the dwarf, had slipped out 
 from Plympton's landing stage in the Perth's dingey, 
 while the Anne of Dartmouth's men were still hacking 
 away at the hearths and homes of the settlement, and had 
 kept their rendezvous with the eastern men and Bowers the 
 Silent at St. John's. 
 
 The Perth was well off St. John's when Preedie 
 changed her course. The first idea of the trip had already 
 been suggested. Preedie had resolved to make his own 
 proposals to his comrades outside all possibility of eaves- 
 dropping. " Lay her to," he said to Bowers, who was at the 
 helm. 
 
 It was a calm night, but with a freshening breeze that 
 favored the new point that Preedie had in his mind. Oddly 
 enough Bowers the Silent had the very same object in his 
 mind, not clearly, but there it was. Preedie had thought 
 out his plan. Bowers, in his lumbering way, had come upon 
 a similar notion, but not intuitively, for he had taken it in 
 with a certain message from Sandy Scot, which he had 
 nursed for the right opportunity of delivery. He had taken 
 joyful note, in his undemonstrative way, of the Perth's 
 armament, and had himself carried on board a couple of
 
 Il6 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 axes, remarking to Preedie in the most matter-of-fact way 
 that " mun might be useful." Preedie with equal secretive- 
 ness, had said, " Yes, they might." If Preedie had not 
 altered the vessel's course when he did, Bowers would have 
 unbosomed himself. During the ten minutes previously to 
 Preedie's order, Bowers had suffered considerably. He 
 hated to say a word out of season ; hated to speak at all, as 
 we know ; believed in the eloquence of silence, but he had 
 more than once been on the point of letting his jaw-tackle 
 run before Preedie had spoken, and he knew Preedie must 
 have something special and important to say. 
 
 " Mates," began the volunteer captain of the Perth, 
 settling himself down in the bows, and the silent man knew, 
 almost as if he looked into Preedie's inmost soul, what he 
 was going to say, " comrades, one and all, I want your 
 attention. Bowers, let her drift, I have something to say." 
 
 " Aye, aye," said Bowers, leaning his back against the 
 helm and taking a fresh quid from his leaden tobacco-box. 
 
 " I'm sick of things as they stand," said Preedie. " Use, 
 they say, is second nature ; well, I suppose it is ; we'd never 
 have stood what we have, had it been otherwise ; but 
 second nature gets broken down, and the original pluck and 
 courage spring up afresh out of the ruins. What are we ? 
 Swine, slaves, cattle, dogs ! By the Lord, I tell you I'm sick 
 of it." 
 
 "Not more than we are," said the dwarf, squaring his 
 great broad shoulders and turning over a quid that bulged 
 out his weather-beaten cheek. " Hell's tame to what I've 
 suffered in mind this day." 
 
 "We are comrades, brothers, men. Let us stand by each 
 other and act for ourselves," said Preedie. 
 
 " Why not ? " asked the eastern man. 
 
 " David Plympton is with us, heart and soul," continued 
 Preedie ; "but he is for gathering munitions, buying ships, 
 declaring war so to speak, and all on a fine scale ! I've got
 
 BO WERS THE SILENT DELIVERS HIS MESSA GE. HJ 
 
 his authority to deal for men and ships, and for a right hearty 
 slap at our foes." 
 
 " By thunder, that's great ; that means joining the 
 Americans, and I'm with you to the death," said the dwarf. 
 
 " I'm there," said Nick the builder. 
 
 " And me," said Bowers, in response to inquiring glances, 
 "but I goes furder." 
 
 " Oh, you do," said the eastern man, laughing, " you 
 always was a dark horse. What is it ? " 
 
 " When Master Preedie's done," said Bowers. 
 
 " Well, this is all I have to say," continued Preedie. 
 " You see yonder cursed sloop with her defiant flag flying, 
 and the ensign of the admiral ! look at her ! Neither a 
 king's ship nor a pirate, neither an honest fisherman nor a 
 trader fine lines, tight, trim, a "ship any crew might be proud 
 of ! Look at her from the point of view of ownership ! 
 look at her as a buccaneer ! look at her with letters of 
 marque ! look at her fighting for freedom, with the new flag 
 of the Stars and Stripes flying fair and free ! look at her as 
 your fancy will what couldn't we make of her? Then 
 look at her as the prison of our comrade and friend, gagged, 
 in irons, torn from his wife and child ; what we ought to 
 make of her when she's ours, there's time to consider, but 
 considered from the point of view of Alan Keith's prison, 
 I'm for boarding the prison-ship this night, and giving her 
 a new flag and a new commander. Now, lads, what say 
 you ?" 
 
 Preedie's speech was received with a dead silence, but it 
 was the silence of resolution. Every man, following the 
 lead of the fisherman from the east coast, extended a strong 
 broad hand to Preedie, who shook each in turn ; and 
 Bowers then signified that he had something to say. 
 
 " I'm a man of few words, as you know," said Bowers, 
 pulling up his right boot, and turning a capacious quid, to 
 give his tongue full play. "When Father Lavello went
 
 Il8 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 aboard the Anne, a red-headed mariner lowers munsen 
 into my boat, and says he, ' Scot's my name, and Scot's my 
 nation ; what be you, Bowers ?' and I says, ' The same,' says 
 I. ' I'm a friend o' Keith,' says he, and says I, ' I'd follow 
 mun to blazes,' on which says he, ' You knows John Preedie ? ' 
 and says I, ' Have I ever heard of Tenterden Steeple ? ' and 
 then he goes on, says he, ' Tell John Preedie to get together 
 a strong crew, muffled oars,' he says, ' and come alongside 
 by the starboard bow, and when he sees a light dropped 
 over the side, just a ship's lantern, mun,' he says, ' why look 
 out for squalls. Ther'll be a ladder with the light ; me and 
 two others '11 be ready, and if he swarms right aboard with 
 all arms,' he says, ' the men'll be drunk except me and 
 Nicol, and another or so, and if John Preedie's the same 
 man as I sailed with in the Azores, why, he'll gie the 
 Anne a different flag to that what we be groanin' under ; ' 
 and that's the whull matter." 
 
 " Sandy Scot, by Jupiter ! " exclaimed Preedie, "and his 
 game's our own." 
 
 Bovvers relapsed into silence. He had made the one 
 speech of his life. If he had been saving himself up for the 
 effort, during all his years of thoughtfulness at Heart's 
 Delight, he could not have been more successful. 
 
 "You've settled it between you," said the eastern man, 
 "and it's been well done ; it's not the forlorn hope I made 
 it out two minutes since. Preedie, you've won the right to 
 lead us ! " 
 
 " Follow me, lads, I ask no more ; and, if we live, to- 
 morrow shall give the Anne a new captain, and his name 
 is Alan Keith."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 GRIM OFFERINGS TO THE HOUSEHOLD GODS OF 
 HEART'S DELIGHT. 
 
 DONALD NICOL'S dispositions were shadowed by the 
 sudden resolve of Ristack to have Alan Keith brought 
 before him. He had hoped to release Keith while officers 
 and crew were drinking. One of the ship's boats was float- 
 ing astern. Released, and on deck, it would not be difficult 
 for Keith to reach i. This was the smaller of Nicol's hopes 
 and plans. The larger one lay in the working of Scot's 
 message to Preedie. Scot knew Preedie, and Scot had no 
 doubt about the due appearance of his former comrade, 
 Hoyland's famous mate. Scot had already moved most of 
 the men's arms from the forecastle, and he had won over a 
 Bristol man, who had also sailed with Preedie. 
 
 Everything looked favorable until Ristack ordered up the 
 prisoner Keith. 
 
 " We'd best appear just as drunk as the ithers," said Nicol 
 to Sandy, " and be awfu' sober at the reight moment." 
 
 Sandy and the Bristol man whispered their " aye-ayes," 
 and Nicol reeled past the mate and another as they con- 
 ducted Alan to the captain's cabin. 
 
 " Keep your feet, prisoner," said Ristack, as Keith 
 attempted to sit, borne down really by the weight of his 
 irons. 
 
 With a great effort Keith stood upright. 
 
 " I've a message for ye," said Ristack. 
 
 Keith wanted to hear it. 
 
 "Have ye no tongue in your cursed mouth ?" Ruddock 
 asked, stretching out his legs and leaning back in his chair, 
 
 119
 
 120 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " D'ye hear, I'm talking to you ? " 
 
 " I hear," said Keith, in a hoarse whisper ; his voice 
 seemed to have gone with his strength. 
 
 " You know Vice Admiral Ruddock, eh ? " 
 
 Keith bent his head, his blue lips moving nervously, a 
 vague, helpless look in his eyes, all the more forlorn on 
 account of the rough plaster that only partially hid a wound 
 on his forehead. 
 
 " And Master Lester Bentz ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Keith, determined not to give any new occa- 
 sion of offense to any of them at that time, if possible. 
 
 " Very well, drink their healths and the good ship Anne 
 of Dartmouth. Hand him a glass, mate ; fill it up a 
 bumper." 
 
 The mate did as he was ordered and handed the glass to 
 Keith, who took it with a trembling hand. 
 
 " Nay, stop," exclaimed Ristack, rising unsteadily and 
 laying his hand on Keith's manacled arm, which only just 
 allowed him to lift the glass to his lips, " no toast, no 
 rum." 
 
 Keith remembered the warning he had received from 
 Nicol within the hour to be hopeful and on the alert. 
 Nevertheless, he was on the point of dashing the glass in 
 Ristack's face when suddenly Nicol staggered into the cabin 
 exclaiming, " Drenk it. Drenk the toast ! why of course 
 he'll drenk it and twenty such. Three cheers for the Anne 
 of Dartmouth ! By the honor of bonnie Scotland, Admiral 
 Ristack is just the grandest master that ever trod a British 
 deck ! " 
 
 " What in the name of Satan's this ? Out you go, you 
 Scotch ragamuffin. I'll put you in irons and flog ye, too ; 
 d'ye hear ? " 
 
 " By the heavens above us, ye may yardarm me and I'll 
 shout three cheers for the Anne o' Dartmouth and three 
 mair for the Admiral of the Fleet ! "
 
 GRIM OFFERINGS TO THE HOUSEHOLD GODS. 121 
 
 Nicol staggered out as he came, the two admirals smil- 
 ing, and Bentz remarking, " They say there's truth in 
 drink." 
 
 " I'm afeared it's a drunken ship this night," said Ristack. 
 " Mate, see to it. They've won their extra allowance, that's 
 sure ; but stop it. And I've a mind to make an example of 
 that man Nicol." 
 
 " Aye, sir," said the mate, leaving the cabin, as Keith, 
 unable to resist the drink, emptied the glass. 
 
 "A murrain on it. Where's the grog? "said Ristack, 
 looking at Keith. " Did ye pronounce the toast in your 
 throat ? Curse me, but I'll hear it. Here, try again." 
 
 He handed Keith another glass. 
 
 " Now then," said Ristack, " to it." 
 
 " A health to you all, gentlemen," said Keith. " Good 
 luck to the Anne 0' Dartmouth" and he gulped down 
 the liquor. 
 
 " Ah, ah," roared Ristack, " I knew ye to be a rank 
 coward, a weak-kneed runagate. Now you shall drink 
 ' good luck ' to Master Bentz in his love for Hannah Plymp- 
 ton ! By thunder you shall ! " 
 
 Keith neither moved nor spoke. A little color had come 
 into his pale face, a glint or two of added light into his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Stay," said Ruddock. "You will think better of this 
 in the mornin'." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Bentz, also interposing. 
 
 " Who stays me ? " exclaimed Ristack. " Who ? " 
 
 He staggered to his feet, took up his knife, and felt the 
 edge of it. 
 
 " Don't talk to me, you Bentz," he said with a laugh, and 
 resheathing his knife, as if some new drunken thought had 
 come into his head. " It's all right, you are a wicked devil, 
 you know you are. What's his pretty little plan, do you 
 think ? "
 
 122 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 He sat down once more, drank another glass of rum, 
 stretched his legs, and rocked his thick, coarse body to 
 and fro with a drunken chuckle. 
 
 " I knew you were a coward ; and if I promise to let you 
 go not to-morrow, day after you'll drink that toast ; but 
 it'll be all over then, and you needn't. The lovely Hannah 
 is comin' on board, and a murrain blight all such, say I, 
 lovely or otherwise. Bentz brings her to see her man, and 
 she sees Bentz ah, ah, ah curse me if it isn't as good as a 
 play ! " 
 
 Ristack almost choked himself with laughing. In the 
 midst of his fit, the mate returning, Ruddock motioned to 
 him to remove the prisoner ; and so the painful scene was 
 brought to an end. Keith had felt no hurt so keenly as the 
 insult offered to his wife, aggravated by his suppressed rage 
 and passion. But he had noted too keenly the warning of 
 Nicol, and the danger the faithful fellow had run, not to 
 make every possible effort to maintain an appearance of 
 submission. It was clear that his fellow-countryman had 
 some very special hope of rescue, and he would be a bad 
 ally, and a poor general, to augment his friend's risk by any 
 want of self-denial and patience. But as the mate led him 
 away, he ratified, for the hundredth time, his one great oath 
 of vengeance on Ristack and his crew. 
 
 " Here, you bo's'n, take your prisoner," said the mate, 
 addressing Keith's jailer. 
 
 The boatswain wished Keith at the deuce and the mate 
 too at that moment, and was not a little rough in pushing 
 Alan before him, the prisoner hobbling and cursing in his 
 irons. 
 
 "Ah, don't be hard wi* the puir deevil," said Nicol, who 
 had been hovering around the captain's cabin. 
 
 "Who are you talking to, you sot ! " exclaimed the boat- 
 swain, thrusting Nicol aside, the cunning Scotchman reeling 
 with a drunken stagger toward the hold.
 
 GRIM OFFERINGS TO THE HOUSEHOLD GODS. 123 
 
 "Allri', bo's'n," said Nicol. "No offense, extra grog, 
 cap'n's health ! " 
 
 " Cursed Scotchman ! " said the boatswain, " any excuse 
 to get drunk." 
 
 " Ri' you are," said Nicol ; " le' me hold the lantern for ye." 
 
 Nicol put out his hand and took the lantern, the boatswain 
 willing to be waited upon. 
 
 " Hello there, Mark Gowling, where are the men I left 
 here?" he exclaimed, missing his two guardians at the 
 hatchway. 
 
 " End their watch ; next was comin' on ; extra grog," said 
 Nicol. " Le' me bear hand." 
 
 "If you're not too drunk," said the boatswain; and the 
 three disappeared. 
 
 At the foot of the ladder it was the work of a moment to 
 fell the boatswain, which Nicol did heartily ; to gag him was 
 done with equal precision ; to bind his arms and legs came 
 still easier. 
 
 " Steady," said Nicol to Keith, " don't move ; here are 
 the keys." 
 
 Keith's irons were unlocked. 
 
 "Stretch your legs, my laddie," said Nicol; "are ye a* 
 reight ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Keith. 
 
 " Here's a knife and a pistol ; follow me ; kick the ladder 
 down as ye leave it. By God ! they're at it, man ! John 
 Preedie and a boat's crew have come on deck ; dinna ye 
 hear the music ? Noo, lad, tak the time frae me ! It's 
 more than a rescue, it's a prize ! " 
 
 "Better than all, its vengeance ! " Alan exclaimed, as he 
 kicked the ladder away and flung down the hatchway with 
 a bang. 
 
 "To the captain's cabin ! " exclaimed Nicol. 
 
 Keith leapt after his follower, his knife in his hand, murder 
 in his heart.
 
 124 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " To the fo'c'sle, Sandy ! " shouted Nicol, as he met his 
 comrade and the Bristol man making for the captain's cabin ; 
 "leave the quality to us." 
 
 Sandy dashed off with a cry of triumph. The sight of 
 Keith inspired him with a new and tremendous energy. He 
 was equal to any six opponents ; and Damian, the dwarf, 
 hewed men down with his ax as if they had been dummies 
 of wood. You could hear his shout and his blows all over 
 the ship. 
 
 Nicol flung open the door of the captain's cabin. There 
 had been sudden cries of "A mutiny ! " "The Yankees ! " 
 " Pirates ! " Ruddock, snatching a cutlass from the wall, 
 was making for the deck. Ristack had not realized so 
 quickly as his comrade that some serious trouble had broken 
 out. It was not until pistol shots were heard that he drew 
 himself up and buckled his belt. As Ruddock dashed out 
 of the captain's cabin he fell into the brawny arms of 
 Donald Nicol. The two men gripped each other in a 
 deadly hug. 
 
 Almost at the same moment Alan Keith seized Ristack 
 by the wrist close above the handle of the long knife that 
 flashed in the admiral's hand. Lester Bentz crept beneath 
 the admiral's bunk and hid himself in the shadow of Ris- 
 tack's sea chest. 
 
 " You fiend ! " exclaimed Alan, with a wild yell of laugh- 
 ter that might have shaken the nerves of a far more valiant 
 man than Ristack, " I've got ye ! Ye black-hearted coward ! 
 I call the tune now, and, by the Lord ! ye shall dance ! " 
 
 One hand holding his wrist, Alan with the other took his 
 enemy by the throat and shook him until he rattled above 
 the din of the fight that could now be heard on all hands. 
 
 Ristack grew purple as if he were choking, and Bentz, at 
 his feet, quivered with a sense of coming dissolution. 
 
 " Dinna fear I am gaeing to kill ye. Not yet ! " said 
 Alan, who in his hatred of the man was forgetting the inter-
 
 GRIM OFFERINGS TO THE HOUSEHOLD GODS. 1 25 
 
 ests of his own brave rescuers and friends. " Ye shall feel 
 what it is to " 
 
 But at this moment Ristack made a desperate lunge 
 forward, and his knife grazed the cheek of his adver- 
 sary. 
 
 Alan dragged the knife from his grasp and flung it aside, 
 at the same time turning the handle of his own weapon that 
 he could hit Ristack with his fist. He hit him fairly and 
 squarely in the face. " Man, I'll nae kill ye ! I'll play wi' 
 ye as ye do when ye hae gotten a man i' your power ! " 
 
 Ristack fell, striking his head against the sea chest and 
 sprawling so near to Bentz that the captain's guest had to 
 compress himself nearly to death by suffocation. 
 
 Nicol held no parley with his man. Nor did Ruddock 
 speak. They were too seriously engaged for angry words. 
 Their curses were deep enough, no doubt, but they were 
 unspoken. It was a wrestle to the death. Before Alan 
 Keith had struck his man the vice admiral was flung across 
 the table with a crash of jugs and bottles, and there was a 
 gash in his throat that silenced forever the voice of the 
 ruffian who had undertaken to show Lester Bentz how to 
 woo the belle of Heart's Delight. 
 
 Ristack, gaining strength as the effects of the liquor he 
 had drunk wore off in the sudden excitement of battle, 
 struggled once more to his feet. 
 
 Alan, with the blade of his knife directed toward him, 
 was about to strike, when once more the passion of revenge 
 provoked him to think of something more terrible than 
 immediate death. 
 
 " Nay, ye hellhound, ye shall live ! " he exclaimed once 
 more, " until I have time to tell ye to your teeth what ye 
 are ; till I've time to kill ye by inches, and sail wi' ye to 
 the Sooth and fling ye alive to the sharks. Oh, I'll get even 
 wi' ye, never fear ! Curse ye ! " 
 
 And again Alan struck Ristack in the face,
 
 126 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " Oot, man," cried Nicol ; " ye waste time ; kill the deevil, 
 kill him ! Hello, ye swine, come oot o' that ! " 
 
 It was Bentzwhom Nicol suddenly espied ; but before he 
 could seize him the mate and the chief carpenter came to 
 the aid of the captain's cabin, and Nicol received a shrewd 
 blow from the butt-end of a pistol. As Keith turned to the 
 defense of Nicol, Bentz picked up Ristack's knife and thrust 
 it into his hand. Ristack struggled to his feet, and was 
 about to take full advantage of the mate's diversion when 
 the ax of the dwarf swung in at the open door, and 
 Keith, catching the falling arm of Ristack aimed at his 
 breast, the two fell together. One got up again ; it was 
 not Ristack. He lay dead quiet now, and Bentz drew 
 himself into such small compass that he was once more 
 overlooked. 
 
 The fight now drifted away from the cabin to the gang- 
 way, from the gangway once more to the deck. To Bentz 
 the whole ship was one great scene of riot and butchery. 
 He could, however, draw his breath at last without fear of 
 suffocation. He listened. He heard yells and curses 
 above and below ; but they were further away. The 
 admiral's cabin was still as death. 
 
 " Admiral Ristack," he whispered. 
 
 The admiral made no reply. 
 
 " Master Ruddock." 
 
 The vice admiral did not answer. 
 
 " Lord have mercy on me ! " said Bentz. 
 
 He tried to move. He was literally barricaded by the 
 body of Ristack. He stretched forth his right hand. I 
 came in contact with the wet face of his host. He knew 
 that his hand was red. 
 
 " Ristack," he whispered. 
 
 All still. 
 
 "Ruddock." 
 
 No answer.
 
 GRIM OFFERINGS TO THE HO USE HOLD GODS. 1 2 7 
 
 "They are dead," he said to himself. "Oh, gracious 
 Heavens, be merciful unto thy servant, a miserable sinner ! " 
 
 Then the fight seemed to break out afresh. He heard 
 shouts and cries, the clash of steel, and now and then a 
 pistol shot. 
 
 " Oh, it's awful save me, good Lord, for there is none 
 other that fighteth for us but only thou, O God ! " 
 
 If the wind had not been blowing from the southwest 
 they must have heard the noise of the battle on board the 
 Pioneer. As it was the conflict made no disturbance in the 
 direction of the other vessels, and the vice admiral's men, 
 as well as the sailors on the rear admiral's ship, were 
 happily engaged in drinking success to the morrow's 
 fishing. 
 
 The attack and capture of the Anne of Dartmouth did 
 not occupy more than twenty minutes. To Bentz it was an 
 age. To Keith it was only a second. From the moment 
 that Preedie had scrambled aboard, his knife between his 
 teeth, his boarding cap on his head, with the dwarf at his 
 heels swinging his awful ax, the eastern man with his pike, 
 Bowers with his cutlass, and Nick, the builder, with his pistol, 
 the result was a foregone conclusion. They had Scot and 
 the Bristol men for leaders. Forming two parties they 
 went to work with courage tempered with method. Under 
 the astute direction of Nicol, and with Keith in the fight, 
 the vessel was almost won at the first blow ; but not without 
 some desperate fighting. The eastern man fell in the first 
 encounter. He was speedily avenged ; but Bowers was 
 literally cut down by the mate, who in his turn fell before 
 Damian's ax. 
 
 When the last stand had been made, no officer being left 
 to command, Keith shouted : " Quarter to all who lay 
 down their arms ! " 
 
 " Agreed ! " was the reply of the few still in fighting 
 trim. Immediate attention was given to the wounded.
 
 128 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Nicol collected the arms of the defeated. The prisoners 
 were marched aft under guard. 
 
 4< Ye'll not be put in irons, men ; ye'll be well treated ; 
 them as likes to take service under Captain Keith can sign 
 new articles ; they that wants to gae ashore can do sae at 
 the first convenient port." 
 
 "All right," was the reply of the majority, while two 
 who hated Sandy Scot invited him to go to a certain hot 
 region. Sandy thanked them and asked them meanwhile to 
 accompany the dwarf to the hold. On a manly remon- 
 strance from another of the crew, who was known to be an 
 honest kind of fellow, Sandy said, "Weel, comrade, I'll just 
 leave them on their parole, as the marines say, and mak you 
 responsible for 'em." 
 
 " Right," said the other, and the men, worn out with 
 excitement and the fumes of their debauch, flung them- 
 selves upon deck in every attitude that promised change 
 and rest for limb and muscle. 
 
 The dead being counted it was found that besides Ristack 
 and Ruddock the Anne of Dartmouth had lost six men and 
 had five wounded. The attacking party had to regret the 
 eastern man and Bowers, who was now indeed Bowers the 
 Silent. Preedie was badly cut across the face. The dwarf 
 was wounded badly enough to have killed most men, but 
 he made light of it. Neither Nicol nor Keith were hurt, and 
 Sandy Scot counted the loss of a finger," just as a flea-bite." 
 
 " We'll do the best we can for ye," said Keith to the 
 wounded, " until we get ye properly doctored. Your own 
 man doesna appear to be on board." 
 
 " He's visiting the doctor on the Pioneer" said one of the 
 men. 
 
 " I dare say we'll find plaster enough," said Keith, " and 
 mind ye this, we bear ye nae malice ; we'll cure ye if we 
 can. 
 
 " And now, lads, we'll go on deck and drink a measure to
 
 GRIM OFFERINGS TO THE HOUSEHOLD GODS. 129 
 
 Heart's Content," said Keith, "and anither to Donald Nicol 
 .and Sandy Scot ! " 
 
 " Aye, aye," shouted the little crew, some of them binding 
 up their wounds, others stretching their arms and muscles 
 as if from relief from the strain of the fight. 
 
 The steward having consented to wait upon the visitors, 
 grog was liberally served. After Heart's Content had been 
 drunk and the names of Nicol and Scot duly toasted, John 
 Preedie proposed that Alan Keith should be elected captain, 
 and that the Anne should be called the Avenger. 
 
 The cheers which indorsed Master Preedie's proposition 
 were heard against the wind on board Admiral Ruddock's 
 ship, the Pioneer, whose chief mate, listening to the cheery 
 shout, remarked that the Admiral o the Fleet was giving 
 his men a regular old Devonian debauch. 
 
 " And now, dear friend," said Keith, when he and Preedie 
 presently sat together aft while Master Bentz prayed for his 
 life and obtained it at the cost of his liberty, and the men 
 were busy, under the direction of Nicol, now chief mate, 
 " what of Heart's Content ? " 
 
 " No news is good news," said Preedie, " and your sweet 
 wife was alive when I left." 
 
 " Alive ! " said Alan in an anxious whisper. 
 
 " She had been sick, as you know." 
 
 "Nay, I didna," said Alan. 
 
 "I hope she is better," said Preedie. 
 
 " I must see her," said Alan, " at any risk." 
 
 " I will not say ye nay, for my part." 
 
 "Bear wi" me, friend ; I'll be worthy o" your trust and 
 faith. 'Twould be wise to up-anchor and out to sea, any- 
 way. There's like to be cruisers at St. John's. We maun 
 have sea room to overhaul and clear decks. When we're 
 rid o' the men we dinna want, and wha dinna want us, I ken 
 a harbor that's made for us ! " 
 
 At about midnight the wind came out fair and the moon
 
 13 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 appeared fitfully. Now and then it would struggle through 
 a gray cloud, and for a moment make a weird reflection upon 
 the sea. Between the lights, as if by arrangement, a group 
 of men on the lower deck amidships, on the starboard side, 
 with low cries of " Steady, mates," and " Now, boys, ready," 
 and so on, flung grim and weighty things into the sea. 
 
 " Let 'em float or let 'em sink," remarked Dymoke, the 
 Lincolnshire sailor, " I reckon we've declared oursens. 
 Accordin' to the law, to resist authority on board ship's 
 mutiny to resist and win, why that's piracy ; so let 'em 
 float or let 'em swim, our flag flies free ! " 
 
 " But they're to have Christian burial ; our ain men, God 
 rest 'em," said Sandy Scot. " It brakes my heart to think 
 o' that gude man Borers the Silent lyin' low." 
 
 As the last of the dead men were flung out into the sea, 
 the cry of " All hands ! up anchor ! ahoy ! " rung out in the 
 strong full voice of the new boatswain. The men responded 
 with a will. Sails were lowered, yards braced, and the 
 anchor was raised with a cheerful "heave ho." Alan Keith 
 stood upon deck, his eyes turned toward a distant star, 
 poised, as he thought, right over the spot where Hannah and 
 their boy David were encamped. 
 
 The first morning of the fishing broke calm and fair and 
 full of happy promise. The caplin were racing before the 
 swarming cod, and making every now and then a splash of 
 silvery brightness upon the blue waters as they leaped for- 
 ward under the pressure of the hunt. Along the shore in 
 many punts the poorer folk were luring the fish with rival 
 baits. In the middle distance hundreds of heavily manned 
 boats were merrily at work with hook and line. As far as 
 the eye could range seaward along the banks white sails 
 were seen, as if a fleet of British yachts had met for sport, 
 as they meet in our day at Cowes. Here and there among 
 the boats that rose and fell in a quiet undulating and easy 
 fashion, brown-winged skiffs glided to and fro.
 
 GRIM OFFERINGS TO THE HO USE HOLD GODS. 1 3 1 
 
 It was a bright, inspiriting scene. So busy was it that not 
 until the doctor of the Anne mentioned to the mate his 
 desire to go on board his own ship to breakfast was the 
 Anne missed. The lookout could report nothing. The 
 mate, with the ship's most powerful glass, could see no signs 
 of her, though he swept the horizon as it were inch by inch, 
 yard by yard. He could not even see what fate had left by 
 way of token of the lost ship. 
 
 The sea, however, seemed conscious of its load. Two 
 bodies were floating into the harbor of Heart's Delight. 
 There was Ruddock, with his gold chain and his showy 
 jerkin ; Ristack in his boots, his belt tight and trim. Rud- 
 dock was first in the journey shoreward ; Ristack was no 
 longer in a position to resent Ruddock's presumption. 
 Ruddock, on the other hand, was incapable of rejoicing in 
 his promotion to the front. They were not far apart. The 
 sea appeared to understand them. It gave Ristack a deco- 
 ration, as if to make him equal to the man with the gold 
 chain. The admiral wore a crown of seaweed. Ruddock 
 floated with a certain motion of defiance. His head seemed 
 to sway about, as if in egotistical deprecation of his fellow- 
 admiral. Ristack lumbered along with a sense of his ques- 
 tioned importance. Caplin and cod rushed past them, 
 chased and chasing. As the tide, with a swirl, made for the 
 entrance to the harbor of Heart's Delight, in full view of 
 the great house which was to be furnished for the Admiral 
 of the Fleet, lo and behold, Admiral Ristack and his friendly 
 coadjutor, Vice Admiral Ruddock, bumped up against the 
 sea-beat piles of Plympton's boathouse, where the receding 
 tide left them, grim offerings of fate to the household gods 
 of Heart's Delight.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE TRAGIC REVOLT OF ALAN KEITH. 
 
 BETWEEN the uninhabited island of Nasquappe and 
 Demon's Ridge, on the northern coast of Labrador, lies the 
 sheltered harbor of Wilderness Creek, of which Alan Keith 
 had frequently spoken in his talks with Master Plympton 
 about the future of Newfoundland. 
 
 At the main entrance from the sea the waves thunder in 
 among bowlders and solid rock. The noise of the breakers 
 as they pound the iron coast can be heard far out to sea. 
 The exit is a narrow outlet protected by steep cliffs that 
 shelter it from the northern rollers. I speak of entrance 
 and exit advisedly, for either way and both are open for 
 those who choose to enter. Alan Keith, piloting in the 
 Avenger, was the first ship's master who had ever dared to 
 seek the shelter and repose of this secret and almost unknown 
 harbor. The reader will remember how Keith had described 
 its capacity to his neighbor and father-in-law. He had not, 
 however, dreamed that he might one day drop an anchor 
 there for such a ship as the Anne of Dartmouth after such 
 an adventure as that of her capture and change of name. 
 " Women like to change their names," Keith had remarked, 
 " and this trull o' Ristack's is honored in her new one, and 
 by all the saints she shall be the virago o' these northern 
 watters." Between the entrance from the sea and the exit 
 was this bay, of which Alan had spoken, lying as still and 
 glassy as a land-locked lake. No kind of weather made 
 any difference in its calm serenity. Salt as the outer ocean, 
 it was a perfect mirror to the surrounding rocks, and it
 
 THE TRAGIC REVOLT OF ALAN KEITH. 133 
 
 repeated in its vast depths the ribbed sea sand that fringed 
 its silent margin. 
 
 On one hand the harbor was bordered by a sandy beach 
 strewn with bowlders that climbed up among the foothills of 
 a tall promontory known by the mariner far and wide as a 
 time-honored warning of danger. On the other hand the 
 shore was a wilderness of jagged rock and stony hollows, a 
 land of salty barrenness dotted with stunted growths of 
 underwood and bracken, the home of sea birds and other 
 more fearsome fowl in the shape of imps and fiends of the 
 pit, according to well-approved tradition. In spring Wilder- 
 ness Creek was accessible ; and to him it was a land of 
 promise and fair weather. 
 
 The promontory was called Demon's Rock. It had, at 
 times of storm and tempest, cast its awful shadow over 
 sailors wrecked at the very entrance of the unknown 
 harbor, into which their broken ships with daring helms- 
 men at the wheel might have been steered, and defied the 
 wildest storm ; but this coast of Labrador was to the 
 general voyager a God forgotten region. None suspected 
 it of the possibilities which had struck Alan Keith in his 
 first fishing cruise among its strange and dangerous waters. 
 At the base of Demon's Rock was a wide-mouthed cavern. 
 Its entrance was a kind of natural hallway ; it might have 
 been the approach to some giant's castle. 
 
 Penetrating its depths you soon became conscious of a 
 light like a star shining afar off. Then your level path was 
 impeded by an obstruction of rock and shingle. This was 
 only the first of many natural ridges of rock, steps that led 
 to the light, which was an outlet from the cavern into the 
 opening country beyond. Alan Keith had climbed this 
 stairway, and following a narrow, shingly trail, had eventu- 
 ally come upon a stretch of pleasant country, where the 
 berry-bearing plants of the peninsula of Labrador grew 
 in great variety. They consisted of partridge berries,
 
 134 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL 
 
 whortleberries, wild currants, and gooseberries, and as 
 Keith had made his most notable excursion in the autumn, 
 he had become acquainted with the horticultural riches of 
 Labrador when most he could appreciate them. Mosses of 
 many colors, ferns, tall grasses, and wild flowers made this 
 oasis in the desert a little garden of paradise in summer, 
 and there were days even in the severest winter when the air 
 was dry and exhilarating, and the skies a bright and lovely 
 blue. Traveling a mile or two further afield, Keith had 
 found himself at the head of one of the fiords of the 
 district, bounded with noble forest trees, while game was as 
 abundant as the most ardent hunter could desire. Here he 
 had seen an encampment of Micmacs ; but both Indians 
 and Esquimaux appeared to be as shy of Wilderness Creek 
 as the navigators of the sea. It is true there was a trail 
 from the cave of Demon's Rock that came eventually upon 
 the little paradise of berry plants and flowers, but it was 
 vague and uncertain, and had no appearance of recent use. 
 Keith, judging from Plympton's information relating to the 
 old country's troubles with the French, came to the conclu- 
 sion that this trail was a relic of the earliest inhabitants of 
 those latitudes, used afterward by the Micmacs, who had, 
 during their incursions, annihilated the unwarlike aborig- 
 ines, to become themselves victims to the dominant race. 
 The Micmacs were from Cape Breton and Novia Scotia. 
 They were more or less allies of the French, and were 
 supposed to have invaded the island in their interests ; but 
 the chief antipathies of the Micmacs appear to have been 
 exercised against the aborigines, whom they slew or starved 
 out of existence. The Micmacs established fishing and 
 hunting grounds, and increased and multiplied, but only 
 for a time. The latest historical incident connected with 
 their settlement in Newfoundland is connected with the 
 governorship of Sir Thomas Duckworth, who in 1810 was 
 appointed commander-in-chief of the island of Newfound-
 
 THE TRAGIC REVOLT OF ALAN KEITH. 135 
 
 land and the islands adjacent, including those of St. Pierre 
 and Miquelon, and all the coast of Labrador, from the 
 River St. John's to Hudson's Straits, and the island of 
 Anticosti and others adjacent, made a voyage which 
 extended to the principal northern settlements and also to 
 the little known country of Labrador. In the latter region 
 he addressed a proclamation to the Micmacs, Esquimaux, 
 and others, assuring them of the protection of the king. He 
 further exhorted them to live peaceably together and avoid 
 all causes of violence and bloodshed. He took great 
 interest in the Indians of Newfoundland, and opened com- 
 munications with a tribe on the Exploits River. Here with 
 an expedition of 130 men he induced four Indians to go 
 away with him, leaving two marines as hostages. The 
 Indians were to return with presents and pledges of peace. 
 They did return with their escort, to find the two marines 
 brutally murdered, their bodies bristling with arrows. The 
 English interest in the Indians since that time has no doubt 
 been equally sincere, but in our day Newfoundland has 
 buried the last of the Micmacs. Had the home govern- 
 ments of the time shown anything like a sympathetic inter- 
 est in the English settlers, the fishery and other claims of 
 France would have been just as completely laid at rest. 
 
 In the early days of his courtship of Hannah Piympton, 
 and after their happy marriage, Alan Keith had speculated 
 upon the advantages of a settlement hereabouts, with such 
 winter arrangement of stores and provisions as would make 
 the ice and snow as welcome as the summer sun and shower. 
 He had in his mind that safe and sheltered harbor of Wil- 
 derness Creek for the laying up of ships and boats locked 
 in with icy bergs, and yet sheltered from the belt of North- 
 ern storms of sleet and snow, a veritable retreat from the 
 influences of envy and free from the attacks of avarice. 
 Piympton had smiled at his stories of the place, knowing 
 the character it bore, and having had in days gone by some
 
 I3<> UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 experience of its danger and its icy gales. As for Wilder- 
 ness Creek affording an entrance for anything larger than a 
 cockleboat, Plympton paid tribute to Alan's seamanship in 
 questioning if any other Newfoundland fisherman would 
 risk a smack in the attempt. Any comparison between 
 Wilderness Creek and St. John's, where a chain was drawn 
 across the gate-like entrance to the harbor, was out of the 
 question, seeing that you entered St. John's from the open 
 sea, while Wilderness Creek was approached through water- 
 ways beset with hidden rocks, by shoals,- and deviltries of 
 all kinds, the creek itself acting as a sucker to drag a boat 
 to destruction. Plympton contended that Alan must have 
 found some other course than that of Wilderness Creek ; 
 but Alan knew that the father of Heart's Delight empha- 
 sized his objections to Labrador because he loved the set- 
 tlement that was his home ; and Alan, finding the Northern 
 coast and its inland country so much better than its reputa- 
 tion, was inclined to paint it in exaggerated colors. He 
 had not, however, done Wilderness Creek and its lonely 
 harbor any more than justice. It is true he was a skillful 
 navigator, but he was more, he was both wise and cautious. 
 He had made a regular sailing chart of the course into 
 Wilderness Creek, and had sailed his smack over it in all 
 weathers, after and before the fishing. Spring and early 
 autumn were the seasons when he best knew the rock- 
 strewn coast, and he had declared to his father-in-law that 
 the way into the creek was " as safe as a canal." 
 
 If only Plympton had listened with faith to Alan, or Alan 
 had acted upon the instinctive alarm of Plympton as to the 
 future of Newfoundland, what happiness might have been 
 in store for them and for Hannah and the infant, David 
 Keith, whose young life, which had begun with promise of 
 fair weather, was now beset with perilous storm and tempest. 
 
 Not even the romantic and fiery Scotchman's bitterest 
 enemy could have invented the sad and dreary circum-
 
 THE TRAGIC REVOLT OF ALAN KEITH. 137 
 
 stances under which he came to seek the protection of 
 Wilderness Creek. His first daring act of reckless courage 
 and loving devotion, after the sanguinary vengeance he and 
 his comrades had taken upon the Anne of Dartmouth, was 
 to seek the new settlement of Heart's Content. 
 
 At a point or two beyond the neck of land which had run 
 out into the sea like a sheltering arm of comfort to Heart's 
 Delight, Keith had landed in the disguise of his stubble 
 beard and haggard face, supplemented with some unfamiliar 
 garments found on board Ristack's ship, and had made his 
 way to Back Bay Valley, only to find his worst fears fulfilled. 
 He stood on the fringe of the little cemetery, that had been 
 marked out by reverent hands, to witness its inauguration 
 with all that remained of the sweet and angelic woman who 
 had blessed him with her wifely companionship and was the 
 mother of his infant son. 
 
 He knew, the moment that he set foot in the new settle- 
 ment, that the rough pine coffin covered with wild flowers 
 enshrouded the woman of all others in the world whom it 
 seemed to him the Almighty might have spared, not for him 
 alone, but for the good of all creation too good and beauti- 
 ful, he knew, for so worldly and coarse a comrade as himself, 
 but one whom he could worship as a type of all that was 
 heavenly, sweet, and true. 
 
 He stood on the outskirts of the sorrowful crowd, and 
 joined speechless, yet with all his aching heart and soul, in 
 the holy service that Father Lavello read and chanted over 
 the coffin and the flowers. He listened to the priest's 
 eloquent prophecy of bliss for her holy spirit. Alan did 
 not murmur a single word of prayer or hope, but the tears 
 fell down his sunken cheeks, heavy drops of agony. He 
 had not the heart to speak to a soul then or thereafter, but 
 he allowed them to go away his father-in-law Plympton, 
 the good priest, Pat Doolan, Sally, the nurse, and the rest 
 of his friends and companions,
 
 138 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 When night came he crept to the spot where they had 
 laid her, and fell upon his face. " Oh, just Heaven ! give 
 her back to me ! " he cried. " Mother of God, what hae I 
 dune to be sae afflicted ? " The leaves rustled in the trees, 
 and a night bird called to its mate. " Dear wife sweet- 
 heart, if I could only have held ye in my arms and said 
 good-by a sma' mercy that, God knows!" Then he 
 groveled by the grave, and prayed that he might pass away 
 there and end his woes forever. When the dews of morn- 
 ing mingled their tears with his he kissed the wet earth that 
 lay soft and tearful above her, and went his way another 
 man : not the chastened sinner, intent on making himself 
 worthy to meet her in heaven. All the good that was in 
 him, when her voice was heard in the land, seemed to fall 
 away from him as he strode out for the beach where his 
 boat was lying. He was once more the avenger, his soul 
 tossed upon a sea of passion. The soul of Nero had entered 
 his bosom, untempered even by one single thought of his 
 child. It was strange that his love for Hannah should 
 not have made him keenly sensible of that legacy of her 
 love ; but, losing her, the great world of good was a 
 blank. 
 
 A natural sympathy with religious hopes and fears might 
 have made him thoughtful of the things that Hannah might 
 have liked him to do, had she been able to guide him with 
 her human aspirations. But it was as if the devil had taken 
 possession of him. Had Father Lavello, being an unusually 
 enlightened priest for those days, been consulted upon 
 Keith's state of mind, he would have proceeded to exorcise 
 the fiend that had entered into the body of his otherwise 
 honest and manly parishioner at Heart's Content. Keith 
 had given Back Bay Valley this' name of happy augury, but 
 it cast no sunny light upon his soul ; it only breathed to 
 him of the direst misfortune on account of which in his 
 madness he conceived himself entitled to the direst ven-
 
 THE TRAGIC REVOLT OF ALAN KEITH. 139 
 
 geance even upon those who had had no hand in the misery 
 that had befallen him. 
 
 Without a word to any living soul he left the new-made 
 grave, and strode away to the rendezvous where his boat 
 awaited him. Plympton would hardly have known his 
 familiar friend, had he met him bending his way along un- 
 accustomed forest paths, breaking through tangled jungle, 
 now bursting out upon stretches of open shore and shingle, 
 a gaunt giant, pressing forward on some tremendous 
 mission. 
 
 Pride in an angel made the first devil. Unrequited love 
 has changed gentle natures to bloody murderers. Misfor- 
 tune will make a hell of a veritable paradise. Injustice and 
 misfortune, twin spoilers of happy homes, had turned all 
 that was great and good and pure in Alan Keith's nature to 
 gall and wormwood, to sour and bitter, to deviltry and 
 debauch. 
 
 Not alone under the curse of the fishing admirals, but 
 under the vengeful action of Alan Keith, both Heart's 
 Delight and Heart's Content became a desolation of justice 
 and revenge. Troops from the garrison of St. John's 
 marched upon Heart's Content and took away David Plymp- 
 ton, Patrick Doolan, and three other settlers on charges of 
 high treason. They were put on board a war ship that had 
 come round in defense of the fisheries to be met with the 
 tokens of revolt that Heart's Delight and the Rear Admiral 
 of the Fishing Fleet had found in the mutilated bodies of 
 Ristack and Ruddock, grim and ghastly lodgers in the ooze 
 that rankled round the piles of Plympton's boathouse and 
 fish stage. The settlement of Heart's Delight being already 
 broken up, its humble homes in ruins, the Governor of St. 
 John's, stimulated by the hope of distinction and reward, con- 
 cluded to root out the settlement whose traitorous founders 
 had been known to express sympathy with the rebellious 
 colonists, and who were suspected on reliable evidence of
 
 14 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 leaguing with the mutineers of the Anne of Dartmouth. 
 The disappearance of John Preedie, the Eastern man, 
 Bowers the Silent, Damian, the dwarf, Dick, the builder, and 
 others the most resolute of the men of Heart's Delight, was 
 a sufficient vindication of the action of St. John's. 
 
 It was in many ways an historic and tragic season, the 
 fishing that last saw the admirals in full and uncontrolled 
 authority on the coasts and settlements of Newfoundland ; 
 and, in spite of watchful cruisers, which had plenty to do 
 to hold the English commerce of the seas from the ravages 
 of hostile fleets, the Pioneer and her consort, with his rear 
 admiral's ensign flying, were captured and burnt, the light of 
 their oily cargoes, the fiery flakes of their flaming ropes and 
 tackle illuminating the desolated shores of Heart's Delight. 
 The crews, stripped of everything they possessed, were 
 allowed to put off in boats unarmed and unprovisioned, all 
 except the Rear Admiral of the Fleet, who was hanged at 
 his own yardarm, where he swung to and fro in the fire until 
 he fell, a crackling mass, into the sea. 
 
 But the booty which Alan Keith promised his comrades 
 had yet to come, and come it did with startling rapidity. 
 He was no respecter of nationalities ; he was a Yankee when 
 it pleased his fancy, and a Britisher when most he honored 
 a foreign foe. The ship in which he achieved his greatest 
 victories, or, as the home government would have described 
 them, his worst outrages, was the St. Dennis, a French sloop 
 of war of thirty guns. The capture was made a few leagues 
 away from the northernmost point of Labrador. The 
 Avenger, in response to the Frenchman's salute, hoisted the 
 Stars and Stripes. The Frenchman put off a boat, and 
 invited the Yankee to come aboard. Alan Keith accepted 
 the invitation. He related something of his grievances 
 against the mother country, and showed the papers with 
 which Plympton had intrusted Preedie. The Frenchman 
 was hilarious over the successes he had already won at sea
 
 THE TRAGIC REVOLT OF ALAN KEITH. 141 
 
 in attacks on British commerce, and Alan Keith gave vent 
 to his aspirations for the freedom of the colonies and his 
 glory in the new flag of liberty. Furthermore, Alan spoke 
 of his capture and burning of the fishing ships, and the 
 Frenchman explained and advocated the rightful claims of 
 his country to all the fishing grounds of Newfoundland and 
 to the entire island itself. Keith found it rather difficult to 
 sympathize with his host in regard to the French pretensions 
 to Newfoundland, having listened to many a gallant yarn of 
 Plympton's in which French attacks had been gloriously 
 defeated against overwhelming odds. Nevertheless he 
 drank the ship's wine, praised her prowess, and expressed a 
 hope that France and America would divide between them 
 the great New World. 
 
 One of the Frenchman's prizes was a Bristol merchant- 
 man, fairly armed and considered safe to hold her own, 
 having on board considerable treasures of gold and precious 
 stones ; but in an evil hour she had been compelled to ship 
 in a foreign port a fresh crew who had not the courage of 
 Western men in face of spiteful odds and powerful guns ; 
 and so the best of her cargo was on board the Frenchman. 
 
 When Alan Keith returned to the Avenger he held a 
 council of war and strategy, and laid before his officers and 
 men a plan of surprise which should give them not only 
 booty, but a new ship with which they might hope to meet 
 a certain British vessel, reported by a Yankee scout to be on 
 her way with specie to pay the English troops at Boston. 
 
 The captain of the Frenchman accepted the return 
 courtesy of the rebel, and it was agreed that the two ships 
 should cruise in company and support each other in any 
 operation that might make such alliance desirable. 
 
 Keith had no sentiment of the sacred rights of hospitality. 
 It mattered nothing to him that he had broken bread with 
 the Frenchman, the Frenchman with him ; all was fair or 
 foul, he cared not which so that he achieved his end.
 
 142 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Indeed, he did not stop to consider what was fair or foul in 
 love or war ; and he had infused the same devilish spirit 
 into his men. 
 
 It blew a gale the next day, and Keith allowed his ship 
 to get into difficulties. She would not answer her helm ; 
 the helmsman took care that she should not, except to let 
 her drift upon the Frenchman in such a way that the booms 
 and rigging of the two vessels became sufficiently entangled 
 for carrying out the infamous plot of the English com- 
 mander. When the Frenchman was most engaged in help- 
 ing his ally, Keith's crew, armed to the teeth, suddenly 
 sprang upon the unsuspecting Frenchman's deck, and almost 
 without a blow made prize of the rich and splendidly 
 equipped cruiser. 
 
 Dismantling his own guns, removing such stores as might 
 be useful on the prize, crippling the Avenger either for 
 offense or defense, the foreigners were transferred to the 
 now discarded ship on board of which Admiral Ristack had 
 sailed into the peaceful harbor of Heart's Delight. 
 
 The change from one ship to the other was not made 
 without some trouble, not to say danger, for the men of the 
 St. Dennis far outnumbered those of the Avenger, and in 
 the midst of the operation the lookout announced "a 
 strange sail," and in his next breath pronounced her " a 
 three-decker." Keith took the glass himself, and indorsed 
 the correctness of the lookout's vision. 
 
 " Noo, my lads, cast off the mossoos ! Is that the last 
 boat?" 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir." 
 
 " Let her go." 
 
 " She's away, sir," was the answer, as the Avenger's 
 whale boat plunged into the foam and made for the St. 
 Dennis, that was lying to somewhat uncomfortably, the wind 
 still blowing half a gale. 
 
 " Noo, Scot," shouted Alan, " see if the Frenchman under-
 
 THE TRAGIC REVOLT OF ALAN KEITH. 143 
 
 stands ye as well as the ship ye've just left. Hard up with 
 your helm ! We'll show the stranger a clean pair o' heels. 
 She carries a real old British vice admiral's flag, and has 
 three rows of teeth just as angry as a shark's. Head up, 
 man ! What ails ye ? Now, Nicol, my son, all hands, pack 
 on all sail ! From royal to stunsail. Handy, man ! It's 
 cursed strange if a French cruiser doesna answer her helm 
 when it's to run before the foe ! That's it. Cheerily, my 
 lads, and now for Wilderness Creek with extra grog and a 
 division of booty ! " 
 
 The Avenger slopped up and down in the foaming 
 waters, waiting to see the capture of their treacherous 
 enemy, and the great mountainous Britisher came on under 
 a heavy pressure of canvas on her trip of inquiry and in- 
 vestigation. Alan Keith had not deigned to answer her 
 signals ; he had made up his mind to get away from her. 
 
 " It's no dishonor, lads," he said, " to show this vice 
 admiral our stern, all the mair that we dinna yet under- 
 stand our French lassie's ways. By , lads, she's coming 
 
 down upon us ; we'll barely clear her broadside if she 
 delivers it. Ah, ah, he kens we'll do it ! " 
 
 It was a narrow escape, for the mighty hail of lead hurtled 
 past them. It seemed as if the St. Dennis had herself 
 caught the scent of danger and was willing to fly. The 
 next moment, bending before the wind that filled every sail, 
 she fairly bounded over the waves, her course dead on 
 toward Demon's Rock. 
 
 The warship gave chase, and sent a shot or two in the 
 wake of the cruiser to keep the game alive, but the St. 
 Dennis had gradually drawn out of range. Then the enemy 
 maneuvered smartly, for so large a vessel, to come by the 
 wind and lay the retreating ship once more under her guns, 
 evidently expecting the St. Dennis to change her course, 
 which otherwise must land her upon the rocks of Labrador. 
 Several of Keith's own men, in whispers, questioned the
 
 144 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 wisdom of trying to make Wilderness Creek in such a gale. 
 They had made their first entrance through the rocky 
 waterways in fine weather. The dangers were sufficiently 
 apparent then, but now, with the clouds so heavy that it was 
 difficult to say which was sea and which sky, and with a ship 
 that was new to them, even Donald Nicol questioned the 
 wisdom of his chief in steering for the secret harbor. 
 
 " Better die fighting our ship than broken to bits on the 
 rocks," said Nicol. 
 
 Keith heard the remark. It was intended for him. He 
 paid no attention to it. While he issued his orders as 
 calmly as if he were piloting a yacht on a calm and sunny 
 lake, he watched intently the chasing ship. 
 
 " She leaves us to our fate," he said presently to Preedie, 
 who stood by his side. "Ah, ah ! my lads, she quits the 
 chase. By the honor o' bonnie Scotland, if she'd raked us 
 once we'd been lost ! " 
 
 The commander of the three-decker was not to be tempted 
 beyond the line of safe navigation. He lay to and watched 
 the cruiser as she pelted on her way to what not he alone, 
 but safer mariners on board the flying ship, regarded as her 
 sure and unavoidable destruction.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF WILDERNESS CREEK. 
 
 APART from the natural dangers of that part of the 
 coast which was dominated by Demon's Rock, mariners 
 had other reasons for giving the waters of Wilderness 
 Creek a wide berth. Grim and forbidding as are the 
 thousand miles of the Atlantic coast of Labrador, the 
 region which included Nasquappe and Wilderness Creek 
 was a concentration of its horrors. During countless ages 
 the frosts and storms of winter, like untiring sculptors, 
 have been carving the rocks into fantastic shapes, nowhere 
 more strange and weird than where they guard the navi- 
 gable current that Keith had discovered. 
 
 Borne on the winds from this area of Nasquappe, sailors 
 off Labrador heard in the air, and on the tops about the 
 masts, a great clamor of voices, confused and mixed, such 
 as you may hear from a crowd at a fair or in a market 
 place ; whereupon they knew that the Island of Demons 
 was not far away. In the old charts it is marked with 
 devils rampant, having horns and tails. 
 
 The sailors of those days had woeful privileges that do 
 not belong to their successors. They had seen the Flying 
 Dutchman beating round Cape Horn. They had seen the 
 phantom ship of the Cornish wrecker in cloudy squalls sail- 
 ing over sea and land ; the Scotch " Meggie of the Shore," 
 with her visions of spectral boats that were doomed ; and 
 
 The specter ship of Salem, with the dead men in her shrouds, 
 Sailing sheer above the water in the looming moving clouds.
 
 146 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 They had seen the demons of the storm, the mermaid with 
 her comb and glass, the sea serpent with his fiery eyes ; 
 they had spoken dead men's ghosts. 
 
 With the legends of the Labrador coast they mixed 
 stories that were half the truth, and traditions that hold 
 their place in poetry and romance. Whittier, the American 
 poet, tells of a phantom ship which mariners a hundred 
 years ago would swear to. The young captain of the 
 schooner visited the Labrador coast, where in a secluded 
 bay lived two beautiful sisters with their Catholic mother 
 both fell in love with the handsome skipper, who, however, 
 was devoted to the younger of the two. She was shut up 
 in her room by the mother just at the moment when she 
 had arranged to meet her lover and fly with him. Her 
 elder sister, profiting by her absence, went in her place and 
 was carried out to sea in the skipper's vessel. On learning, 
 the deception that had been practiced upon him, he returned 
 to find his sweetheart dead, and no more in life was seen 
 of the skipper or his ship. 
 
 But even yet at Seven-Isle Bay 
 
 Is told the ghastly tale 
 
 Of a weird unspoken sail. 
 She flits before no earthly blast, 
 With the red sign fluttering from her mast, 
 
 The ghost of the schooner Breeze, 
 
 A noted legend of the adjacent Belle Isle was told in 
 fo'c's'le yarns in the days of which I am speaking ; how 
 Roberval had put on shore from his fleet the Lady Mar- 
 guerite, niece of the then Viceroy of New France, and her 
 lover, whose conduct had scandalized him during the voy- 
 age out from home. He selected for their punishment the 
 Island of Demons. Here the unhappy pair were attacked 
 by the fiends. The sailors could tell you how many of 
 them there were, and the particular form of their horns and 
 tails, and the horrid grin of their fiery jaws ; and they could
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF WILDERNESS CREEK. 14? 
 
 tell you of the whiteness and purity of the band of saints 
 that came to the aid of the penitent lovers. But even these 
 heaven-sent messengers could not save the father nor the 
 child ; both died within a few days, leaving the Lady 
 Marguerite alone in the terrible wilderness. One day the 
 smoke of a fire attracted some fishermen on a bright, calm 
 day ; they ventured to land on the haunted island, and there 
 they found the unhappy woman, and rescued her after she 
 had lived among the fiends of Demon's Isle upward of two 
 years. 
 
 These stories, and many still more startling mysteries 
 of the deep and its haunted coasts, the sailors of the sea 
 knew by heart. But they knew nothing of the realities of 
 Wilderness Creek. The fishermen who, in the brief sum- 
 mer months, carried off the harvests of the Labrador coast 
 had not the remotest idea of tempting the demons of 
 Nasquappe or the adjacent islands by a trip beyond the 
 boundaries of their fish stakes and landing stages. For 
 years and years, with the first signs of autumn, the fisher- 
 men from France and Italy, from America and the West of 
 England had sailed home with their scaly treasures, some 
 to be caught by hostile cruisers, some to go to the bottom, 
 perhaps, the larger proportion fortunately to find welcom- 
 ing hands at ancient jetties and in picturesque seaports. 
 
 W T hen the St. Dennis, dashing into the broken waters 
 that were white with foam one moment, black the next with 
 the shadows of forbidding rocks, had in the hands of her 
 daring pilot sailed into Wilderness Creek and found rest in 
 the still, calm harbor, it was found that one of her com- 
 pany was missing. He had either remained on board the 
 Avenger with the Frenchmen or had been drowned. Keith 
 concluded that he had not met the latter fate, seeing that 
 he must have been born to be hanged. This person was 
 no other than Lester Bentz, whose life had been spared at 
 the intercession of Preedie that he might be made the
 
 148 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 drudge and butt of the ship. There was more vengeance 
 in keeping him alive under such circumstances, Preedie 
 argued, than in giving him the quiet rest of the grave ; and 
 so Bentz had been spared, but only for what he conceived 
 to be a living death, seeing that every day he expected 
 Keith to cut him down or have him swung to the yardarm 
 as he had seen the Rear Admiral of the Fishing Fleet swing 
 above the fire. When, therefore, the opportunity came 
 for a change of masters, Bentz hid himself in the hold of 
 Ristack's unfortunate ship, and presently made friends 
 with the mossoos, who were taken in tow by the_ three- 
 decker St. George, and carried to Halifax. 
 
 The St. George had given up her chase of Keith only 
 when it led to shoals and rocks that were more dangerous 
 than batteries of guns or the boarding pikes. She lay to 
 off Labrador the next day, and, the weather having mod- 
 erated, sent a boat of search for bodies or other signs of 
 wreck and disaster. The officer returned, having nothing 
 to report beyond the well-known inaccessibility of the 
 coast and its dangers. 
 
 When the Anne of Dartmouth made for Wilderness Creek 
 after her emancipation from the command of Ristack, Bentz, 
 by order of Preedie, had been confined to the hold, where 
 he had remained until the ship was once more out at sea ; 
 but he had heard sufficient in the undisguised talk of the 
 crew to enable him to give valuable information to the 
 English admiral. His lordship, however, only regarded the 
 revelations of Bentz as to an inland lake and a calm channel, 
 thereto as a sailor's yarn. No attempt was made to test 
 the truth of his romantic story. 
 
 Bentz being missed, Keith at once had the entrance to 
 Wilderness Creek barred with chains ; and a similar pre- 
 caution was taken in regard to the exit of the harbor. This 
 accomplished he and his crew settled down to rest and for 
 mutual counsel and recreation. The season was unusually
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF WILDERNESS CREEK. 149 
 
 mild. As a rule, the snow lies over Northern Labrador 
 from September until June. In this year of Keith's 
 exploits September had come in mild and genial, with 
 lovely autumn tints ashore and only moderate gales at sea. 
 The wind that had filled the sails of the St. Dennis was 
 almost the first gale of the autumn. It had been succeeded 
 by a spell of fair weather. The season was indeed so 
 unusually mild that it enabled them to explore the surround- 
 ing country, and in that garden of berries which Keith had 
 discovered in his first wanderings about the coast they built 
 a log house and cleared the land around it for cultivation. 
 It was only the work of a week to make the place habitable ; 
 and here Keith and Preedie and Nicol and Scot, and occa- 
 sionally others of the crew came, to drink their grog and 
 smoke and quaff the Frenchman's wine as they talked over 
 their plans for the future. 
 
 The days went by pleasantly enough, and knowing the 
 history of their recent exploits it might have surprised any 
 looker-on to see how easily the men amused themselves, to 
 hear the genial songs they sung, and to listen to their yarns 
 and stories of adventure. There was one old fellow of 
 whose tales Keith never tired. He had been mate to a 
 pirate captain with headquarters at Salem. No one in the 
 quaint old town pretended to suspect his chief and owner, 
 who lived in a many-gabled house overlooking the bay, and 
 with a garden full of vegetables and flowers. The pirate 
 had a wife, a shrew with her tongue and a cat with her 
 claws ; and when the ship put into Salem she would have 
 the crew go up to the house to dig and weed ; " and it 
 would have done your heart good, sir, to have seen that 
 worthy old dame in command. By the Lord, sir, we were 
 more afeard of her angry eye than all the hard words the 
 captain gave us. We dug and slaved at that garden like 
 any niggers ; every time we came ashore there was a new 
 piece of land to bring under cultivation ; they says a pirate's
 
 15 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 heartless and free, but give him a female skipper on shore 
 and see what she can make of the toughest of us ! " 
 
 It was a standing joke with Keith to mimic the Salem 
 dame and order the crew to dig, even though they had no 
 spades to tame the wilderness, and he was as pleased as a 
 child when the carpenter brought along half a dozen home- 
 made spades and half a dozen of the crew went to work 
 with them. 
 
 This " idle waste of time," as Donald Nicol called it, was 
 not, however, allowed to interfere with the taking of every 
 precaution for the full and complete protection of the ship. 
 Although it was not likely that they would have to meet 
 any attack from the land, Keith had huts built for sentinels 
 commanding the outlet from Demon's Rock ; and a post of 
 observation was established on the eastern side of the 
 harbor, where the sea birds had for centuries played the 
 part of flying fiends and demons in the superstitious and 
 fictitious history of the coast of Labrador.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ONE FRIEND AND MANY FOES. 
 
 KEITH had hoped to make one more trip before laying 
 up for the winter. But he had a comrade's consideration 
 for his men. They had behaved splendidly, even when 
 most they had reason to doubt his seamanship, and he was 
 anxious not only to keep faith with them to the letter, but 
 to give them what he called " a reight gude merrie time." 
 They had signed articles of the most stringent if generous 
 character. They were similar to those which Preedie had 
 signed in the days of Hoyland. Every man had a vote in 
 affairs of the moment, had an equal title to liquors and 
 rations in times of pressure ; prize money was to be shared 
 in proportions laid down, with proper regard to position and 
 wages, from the captain to the humblest soul on board ; 
 games of dice or cards for money were prohibited ; lights 
 were to be out at fixed times ; no woman was allowed on 
 board ; all weapons were to be kept in clean and perfect 
 order ; no quarrel was to be settled with arms on board ; 
 dueling was discountenanced, and could only take place 
 with the captain's permission, and then the meeting must 
 be on shore ; desertion in time of battle was to be punish- 
 able with death, equal severity to be meted out for the 
 crime of robbery ; no man to retire from the service until 
 his share of booty amounted to at least one thousand 
 pounds ; injuries to the person in the service to be compen- 
 sated out of the common stock. The sum of a thousand 
 pounds apiece had already been earned by the capture of the 
 -S/. Dennis, after the officers had received their proportionate 
 shares, the captain taking three, and the subordinate
 
 152 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 officers two, and one and a quarter. The men of the Anne 
 of Dartmouth, who had signed articles with the rest, were 
 more than content, and they were devoted to their new 
 captain. 
 
 The division of the spoil, the surveying of the ship, the 
 excursions ashore, the gardening, the councils of war, and 
 the extra nights of grog and merriment made the time go 
 as quickly as it was pleasant. At the end of the month, 
 and on the eve of serious thoughts of a last brief cruise 
 before the winter should set in, the wind changed, and the 
 snow came down in a blinding storm that was followed by 
 keen frosts and icy blasts, such as made it a very risky thing 
 to engage in any further enterprises until the spring. It 
 was argued by some that inaction for six months would 
 demoralize the crew. Preedie suggested that it might be 
 well to lift anchor and lay up at Salem, or even in the har- 
 bor of New York, where they could ship the extra hands 
 necessary to the complete manning of their new vessel. 
 But Keith, with a lively faith in the strength of England, 
 while he was willing to war against her, hinted that neither 
 Salem nor any other American port might he safe. Further- 
 more, the Americans would consider their capture of the 
 St. Dennis an act of piracy in a flag flying the Stars and 
 Stripes. As for a cruise in the Southern seas (also proposed 
 by Preedie), he was for letting well alone ; it was in these 
 latitudes that it should most satisfy them all to make their 
 power felt. To meet the question of inaction, he planned out 
 a continual fight with winter to keep open a track to the gar- 
 den hut, and moreover, there was plenty of work to be done 
 in adapting the St. Dennis to their own tastes and require- 
 ments. He was for settling down into winter quarters in 
 the harbor of Wilderness Creek. 
 
 While these matters were being discussed, winter inter- 
 vened with barriers that left no option whether the ship 
 should sail or not. The master of the frost and snow
 
 ONE FRIEND AND MANY FOES, 153 
 
 drew his strong chains across both entrance and exit. The 
 harbor was a little sea of ice. Jagged rock and shining 
 bowlder were fringed with shining beads and pendants. 
 Bergs began to form in the waterways outside the creek. 
 Captain and crew accepted the inevitable, and for such a 
 company they passed the time in very wholesome fashion, 
 fighting the snow and ice and putting the ship into perfect 
 repair, making hardy trips of sport with gun and trap, and 
 living a life of activity, only now and then debased by a 
 debauch of drink and ribald songs, in which Keith would 
 join with a wild, uncontrollable energy. He had, neverthe- 
 less, fits of despair, days and nights of speechless depres- 
 sion followed by an unnatural activity. His cheeks grew 
 thinner and thinner, his aspect more and more gaunt. In 
 appearance he had put on a premature old age. Only half 
 through the allotted span of man, he was worn and wrinkled 
 as any patriarch. His sunken eyes had nevertheless the 
 brilliancy of youth. They sparkled in their cavernous 
 depths. His thin hands were strong as eagles' claws. A 
 long, drooping mustache, worthy of a Norseman's visage, 
 mingled with his straggling beard, white and brown a 
 mixture of youth and age. His dress was picturesque in 
 its careless commonness : a worn and ragged leather jerkin, 
 baggy trousers, high brown boots, a broad buckled belt 
 with knife and pistols, and a slouching hat of felt which 
 was worn on the back of his head, leaving the thin, expres- 
 sive face open to sun and storm, defiant, wild, vengeful. 
 He might have been made of iron, so little did he regard 
 or fear hardships of sport or march, of sleepless nights and 
 days of perilous work and hard. 
 
 In his profane way of looking at things he would say 
 that God would not let him die of cold or heat, of steel or 
 poison ; it was his will to torture him with ghosts and fit 
 him for the lowest depths of the fiery pit ; for he had a 
 grudge against him which nought he might do of good or
 
 154 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL, 
 
 evil made any account. Then he would steal away where 
 no eye could see him, and weep bitter tears and pray in a 
 blasphemous manner, as one bereft. After this would 
 come a calm, a tightening of the lips, and a planning of 
 murderous deeds of plunder and of vengeance. 
 
 For the open part of two years Alan Keith and the St. 
 Dennis led a charmed life. They were the scourge of the 
 adjacent seas, and flew their varied flags as far away as the 
 Azores. Successful in every enterprise, they adjourned for 
 occasional rest and safety to their land-locked fastness of 
 Wilderness Creek. John Preedie had ventured to sail a 
 valuable English prize into Salem, where he was received 
 with great rejoicing. Keith's lieutenant had also succeeded 
 in converting certain securities into current drafts. His 
 letters from Plympton had also proved of great value. 
 Plympton's notes he had turned mostly into gold at a 
 considerable discount, it is true. Furthermore, he had made 
 arrangements for the St. Dennis to go into port there or at 
 Boston whenever she chose. A Washington authority had 
 secured him a proper commission for the St. Dennis. But 
 Keith would not budge from Wilderness Creek. He had, 
 however, early in the second season of his adventures as 
 pirate and privateer, consented to the burying of the ship's 
 remaining treasures. A party of Micmacs had been seen 
 off the Southern shores of the creek, and with them, it was 
 thought, an European officer. Furthermore, Keith had 
 taken a British money ship, the very schooner with gold for 
 the troops for which he had been on the lookout before her 
 time last year. The schooner had tried to give the brigan- 
 tine the slip, but Keith had overhauled her, and, over- 
 matched as the schooner was, she had nevertheless fought 
 desperately, and there had been killed and wounded on 
 both sides. Keith, after unloading her money and permit- 
 ting the remainder of her crew to take to her boats, had 
 burnt the ship. By the weird light of her flaming timbers
 
 ONE FRIEND AND MANY FOES. 155 
 
 the boats had been picked up by a British frigate, on her 
 way to assist in the convoying of an East India fleet. She 
 took the schooner's men on board and made for Halifax, 
 where she landed them and reported the loss of the 
 schooner. Here she met the St. George about to sail, and 
 on board she carried Lester Bentz, whose second-hand 
 knowledge of Keith's harbor had been under serious con- 
 sideration at the Admiralty. Bentz had been compelled to 
 sail with the St. George. Fortunately or unfortunately 
 for Alan Keith, Pat Doolan had succeeded in making his 
 escape from the ship on which he had been held to sail for 
 England. He had got back to Halifax in time to hear all 
 about the doings of the pirate Keith, as he was called by 
 the Englishmen there, who were rejoiced that arrangements 
 were being made to take him and his ship. Pat had suc- 
 ceeded in getting on board a fishing. smack that was making 
 her way into Labrador waters. They had witnessed the 
 fight between the schooner and the brigantine, and on her 
 way to Wilderness Creek Keith had thought it wise to bring 
 the smack to in response to signals which Pat had suddenly 
 exhibited without the permission of the master. Pat, 
 making himself known, was taken off, to the great delight 
 of Keith, and the St. Dennis began to drift toward Wilder- 
 ness Creek, much to the astonishment of the smack, that 
 was studiously giving Demon's Rock the customary wide 
 berth maintained in all weathers by every careful mariner. 
 The master watched the fateful ship plunge into the 
 breakers, and all his hands stood aghast at the sight, 
 unable to account for her seeming to confound rocks and 
 shoals and broken water for the navigable ocean. Some 
 fiend, no doubt, had taken hold of the helm, while others 
 beneath the keel had dragged her down ; for presently she 
 disappeared without a sign, but only to find peaceful shelter 
 behind the rocks of Wilderness Creek. 
 
 Pat Doolan's news sent a cold shiver to the heart of
 
 IS 6 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL.^ 
 
 Alan Keith. Their haunt once discovered, they would 
 soon be face to face with England afloat and ashore. If 
 Micmacs had been seen, and with them a European offi- 
 cer, they had best prepare for a fight to the death. Bentz 
 on board the St. George was a sign that their days of 
 ease were over. It was resolved to prepare for attack. 
 Already there were several graves near the entrance to the 
 cave of Demon's Rock. It was decided to add to these 
 four others, that should be storehouses. They were to 
 contain the more bulky of the company's booty. Con- 
 ditions and agreements were entered into as to the future 
 in respect of survivors. Keith had taken an extra bond of 
 fate in secreting such of his store of money and securities 
 as he thought best to have under his own personal control. 
 This buried purse consisted of his own personal savings 
 at Heart's Delight, the moneys intrusted to Preedie by 
 Plympton for their enterprise, his share of the Spanish 
 haul at the Azores, and other smaller stores of stones and 
 scrip. Four casks filled with booty were buried among 
 the graves. Upon them were piled stones and bowlders in 
 a careful, formal manner, each treasure cask with its cross 
 and rough record of names and ages. 
 
 But the commander of the St. George had no notion 
 of making acquaintance with the harbor of Wilderness 
 Creek. He discounted the Bentz story sufficiently to steer 
 clear of such wild romancing as a secret harbor ; but he 
 was under the impression that there might, after all, for a 
 small ship, be steering way through the hitherto regarded as 
 inaccessible rocks to the west of Demon's Rock perhaps by 
 Belle Isle; any ship navigating such a course being shielded 
 by the hilly coast, and finding her way many miles out to 
 the eastward. 
 
 Keith had taken an entirely exaggerated view of the 
 possibilities which grew out of the information brought by 
 Doolan. In order to clear the way for the exit from the
 
 ONE FRIEND AND MANY FOES. 157 
 
 harbor, and also to emphasize the bona fides of the ceme- 
 tery, the treasure ship was piloted out and permitted to go 
 to pieces on the rocks ; and to this day there are remains 
 of her still, wedged into the jagged foothills of the high 
 torrs that appear to march along the shore, headland upon 
 headland, one endless range of stony dangers. 
 
 Pat's story of the destruction of Heart's Content and the 
 carrying away of Plympton did nqt serve to cheer the low- 
 ering spirits of Alan Keith. And Sally Mumford and his 
 son, what had become of them ? Pat had no news what- 
 ever of them. They had disappeared from his ken and 
 knowledge from the moment the "sodgers" marched into 
 Back Bay Valley and laid violent hands upon the settle- 
 ment. He thought Master Plympton had been able to 
 give Sally considerable money, and that he had advised her 
 to make her way to Halifax. But the trouble had so taken 
 hold of his mind that he did not rightly remember any- 
 thing ; and having been in the sea, after his escape, for a 
 whole day and a night, what he had really known had got 
 washed out of him, and that was a fact. It had been in 
 his mind to find Miss Mumford and offer her marriage, so 
 that he might have had authority to protect her and look 
 after the boy ; but whether he would ever have the chance 
 to meet her again, that was a puzzle, sure, though it was not 
 a greater improbability than his having met Master Alan 
 Keith, the brave and mighty hero. 
 
 The brave and mighty hero felt that he was doomsd to a 
 serious fall from the romantic heights to which he had 
 soared in the imagination of Pat Doolan, and from the 
 fairly safe position which he had hitherto considered secure 
 at Wilderness Creek. Not that he feared death. That 
 might come how and when it liked. But he had a grim 
 idea that he was doomed for all kinds of miseries of cap- 
 tivity and torture, that he had for some untoward reason 
 been marked down by fate or Heaven for black asd cruel
 
 158 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 misfortune. After all, was there a divine and jealous God ? 
 Had he offended the majesty of heaven in giving up the 
 grand simplicity of the Scotch Church for the false faith of 
 Father Lavello and for the selfish reason of being more 
 acceptable to Plympton and his daughter? Keith brooded 
 and drunk and drunk and brooded until he was in a fever 
 of rage and violence ; and, as if moved by the very fate he 
 dreaded, he ordered the St. Dennis to be once more made 
 ready for sea. The sight of Doolan had brought back to 
 him pictures of his happy days, and he seemed to hear 
 whispered prayers in a dearly loved voice in the interest of 
 little David. He commissioned Doolan to find his son, 
 and thought of some provision for him that might be safe ; 
 and he undertook to put the Irishman ashore at some favor- 
 able place or time for the purpose ; but it was otherwise 
 ordained. 
 
 Leaving the southern outlet of Wilderness Creek, the 
 St. Dennis found herself under the surveillance of a 
 frigate, which presently made sail toward St. John's, 
 possibly on convoy work, for the fishing ships were once 
 more sailing into Newfoundland waters. Keith's prime 
 object was to put Doolan ashore, and Boston was thought 
 to be his best port. The St. Dennis made for Boston ; but 
 before sundown found her course barred by that very 
 three-decker from which she had escaped in her earliest 
 adventure under Keith. Bearing down from the north, 
 and now fairly in sight, was the frigate they had observed 
 early in the day, exchanging with her British signals, which 
 had, however, not deceived her. Keith changed his course 
 and made for the Bahamas ; and' now began a chase in 
 which the brilliant seamanship of the captains was only 
 equaled by the sailing qualities of their ships. They were 
 three graces of the sea, the three-decker playing the mag- 
 nificent part of Juno. At sundown the frigate flung a shot 
 squarely into the lower rigging of the St. Dennis, and the
 
 ONE FRIEND AND MANY FOES. 159 
 
 three-decker stood by to watch the fight ; for the St. 
 Dennis was within range. Keith had not been idle. He 
 had maneuvered his ship so as to get broadside on, and 
 hardly had he roared down the main hatchway "Fire," 
 than the St. Dennis trembled from keel to topmast with the 
 explosion ; that was Keith's response to the challenge of his 
 adversary. When the smoke cleared, it was seen that 
 the frigate's mainmast had fallen, and that her sails were 
 riddled and torn. 
 
 " Noo, my lads," shouted Keith, " at her again while she's 
 tekk'n up wi' sails noo, lads, wear ship this time sweep 
 her infernal decks. Ah, ah ! that's it ; she'll wish she were 
 back i' Halifax ! " 
 
 The brigantine broke out into thunder and lightning, 
 and the frigate was sorely smitten with the bolts. Her 
 sails were in rags, and one of her two remaining masts was 
 shattered. 
 
 "By the Lord, her deck's a cemetery," shouted Keith ; 
 " stand by, boarders ! Curse it, the George is nae longer 
 lookin' on ! " 
 
 The three-decker had no idea of continuing to play the 
 generous part she had elected to observe at the beginning 
 of the fight. Regarding the two vessels as well matched, 
 the vice admiral was willing to let the frigate have the 
 glory of the contest and capture ; but the frigate was so 
 hard hit that duty had now to give place to sentiment ; 
 and before Keith had barely got out his last words the side 
 of the three-decker burst into flame, and the brigantine reeled 
 under the blow that struck her fore and aft. As the sun 
 dropped into the -sea night came on like the dropping of a 
 curtain, but not before the brigantine had sustained the 
 shock of a second broadside from the St. George, directed 
 with terrible and fatal skill. The brigantine was literally 
 crushed under the weight of the murderous hail. If the 
 darkness had been somewhat delayed the St. Dennis might
 
 160 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 have been saved by the foe and no doubt would have been, 
 not only in a spirit of humanity, but for the glory of her 
 capture and the arrest of her daring master. Knowing the 
 danger of the waters into which they had chased the retreat- 
 ing brigantine, the three-decker, and the frigate had stood 
 out for the open sea. During the night the brigantine 
 drifted upon the coral reefs of the Bahamas, and every soul 
 except one was lost. He rose up from the wreck and stood 
 forth, a grim, silent figure with bleeding feet and hands 
 torn upon the reefs stood forth in the night, blinded with 
 spray, deaf with the cries of the dying and the rush and 
 roar of the waters. 
 
 When morning broke the St. George sent off her pinnace 
 to the reefs, but the ship was already breaking up, and no 
 living soul could be seen, only a few floating bodies which 
 the sea had not yet released from the spikes and spurs of 
 the coral reefs. But on the barren shores of Abaco, before 
 the day was over, that same grim figure with the bleeding 
 feet, and hands all torn fighting with the living rocks, rose 
 up once more and walked in a world of mocking sunshine.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 GHOSTS OF HEART'S DELIGHT. 
 
 FOR twenty years Alan Keith disappears from view 
 among the surf-swept reefs of Bahama's thousand islands. 
 
 As his gaunt figure fades out in the mists of that mock- 
 ing sunshine which found him alone, the one living remnant 
 of the St. Dennis, there arises in the natural course of this 
 romance, the lithe young figure of David, his son. It looms 
 up clean cut against the gray horizon of an English cham- 
 paign country bordering on the sea. 
 
 They might be limned as human types of Hope and 
 Despair, this father and this son. 
 
 Away beyond the Spanish Main Alan Keith, galled with 
 manacles of body and soul, tried to give to that of Hannah 
 his wife a companion vision of David, their worse than 
 orphaned son. That he could never do so encouraged him 
 to believe the boy was living. It almost made him think 
 that the deserted offspring was happy. Otherwise, he surely 
 would have been able to summons him to the darkness of 
 his cell. 
 
 Such is the love of man that Alan, all sin-stained and 
 half crazy with fasting and confinement, was able to win 
 the sweet companionship of Hannah from the Elysian fields. 
 For years, in his imagination, she had rarely missed a day 
 when she had not glided through the massive walls of his 
 prison to sit by his side and talk to him of Heart's Delight. 
 They had often spoken of little David, speculating upon 
 what might be his fortunes. Strange, too, that the pathetic 
 ghost of Hannah Plympton had no spiritual tidings of their 
 son. This again argued for his life and happiness. Dead, 
 
 161
 
 1 62 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 he would assuredly have joined her with the saints. Un- 
 happy, she would have had a mission to comfort him. The 
 jailers heard their familiar prisoner in his neglected den, 
 talking, as was his wont, with unseen visitors. 
 
 The mad Englishman must indeed be very mad since he 
 no longer complained of his lot, no longer craved for food, 
 but took the stuff they gave him with a grateful smile. 
 
 One day they would relieve him of his chains and unbar 
 his door. But would it be death or human freedom that 
 would make the award of liberty ? And what could so 
 broken-wrtted a creature do for himself in the strange 
 world upon which liberty would thrust him ? It would 
 surely be best for him that he should die. 
 
 Yet Alan, in his blackest despair, saw glimpses of a star 
 shining afar off through the darkness. 
 
 Happily for David's peace of mind his father was dead 
 to him, though the heroic story of his life, as he had heard 
 it from Sally Mumford, and read of it in documents signed 
 by David Plympton, lived continually in his fancy. To 
 have known the truth about the prisoner of Talifet would 
 have been a heavy burden for the generous hearted and 
 romantic lad to carry. He loved the memory of his father, 
 could see him in his fancy sitting in the porch of the great 
 house with his mother, could see him in command of his 
 avenging ship, fighting for the freedom of his fellows, and 
 paying the glorious penalty of his courage and devotion. 
 Whether he had any suspicion of the truth or not, David's 
 father was to the son a hero whose memory was worthy of 
 reverence and veneration. Miss Mumford liked nothing 
 better than to tell David stories of Alan Keith's famous 
 deeds, his kindness to her, and his devotion to his wife. 
 
 Miss Mumford was an old maid for David's sake. She 
 looked the character of a cheery spinster to the life. Her 
 trim little home in a corner of one of the Yarmouth Rows, 
 with bright brass knocker and white lace curtains was not
 
 GHOSTS OF HEARTS DELIGHT. 163 
 
 less neat than herself. It was a picturesque house, with its 
 windows full of flowers, the court or row, in which it was 
 the principal dwelling, white with limewash, its pavements 
 red with freshly washed bricks. 
 
 Hartley's Row at this point branched off into a small 
 court, with three or four quaint houses, that might have 
 suggested to the traveler a stray bit of Venice, an unlooked- 
 for incident in some straggling bit of street abutting on a 
 back canal. Indeed, to this day, there are by-ways in Yar- 
 mouth that might be by-ways of the City in the Sea, when 
 the sun shines and soft shadows fall from window pedi- 
 ments and overhanging gables in well-kept rows that run 
 off quiet and still from busy thoroughfares. 
 
 But Miss Mumford was more of a Dutchwoman than 
 a Venetian in the matter of cleanliness. Her house, with 
 its immediate approaches, was constantly washed and 
 brushed up. The window-panes shone, the doorstep was 
 as white as the blinds, the very atmosphere of the place was 
 immaculate. Miss Mumford and her neighbor, Mildred 
 Hope, in Hartley's Row, were the center of a clean and 
 godly influence. Miss Mumford was only fifty, after all the 
 years that had passed over Heart's Content and Heart's 
 Delight, with wreck and ruin, with sun and storm. Here 
 she lived once more in the country of her fathers, and, 
 though a spinster, was still a mother to David Keith, 
 beloved by the gracious lad, and respected by all their 
 neighbors. 
 
 She had had a hard time of it when the new settlement 
 at Heart's Content was broken up. Before the arrest of 
 Plympton and the others the master had been able to place 
 in her hands sufficient moneys for her own and David's 
 security against want. By his advice she had followed him 
 to London, and had taken a lodging there not far from the 
 prison where he was confined. Plympton's durance was 
 not of long continuance. He had influential friends at
 
 164 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Court. His story was honestly told by one who knew it 
 well. The time was favorable for his cause. He was 
 honorably acquitted of the charges brought against him, 
 and received a certain compensation for the loss of his 
 property, which he duly settled in trust for David Keith. 
 This secured to the boy an education and a small income 
 for life. With the moneys of which Miss Mumford was 
 already possessed, the two were able to live in comparative 
 affluence in Hartley's Row, at Yarmouth. 
 
 If at this moment it seems odd to speak of Sally as Miss, 
 you would be satisfied if you could see her in her prim 
 black silk with white fichu and apron, a pair of gold 
 spectacles on her nose, and her gray hair dressed in two 
 bunches of curls about her thoughtful, pleasant face. 
 
 Fortunately, as well for Plympton's companions as him- 
 self, they were supported in their defense by ardent peti- 
 tions for their release. Even St. John's joined in the 
 prayers of the last of the men and women of Heart's 
 Delight and Heart's Content. Furthermore, they came 
 before the Council by way of preliminary inquiry, at the 
 moment when the new governor, Admiral Sir Richard 
 Godwin Keats was on the point of sailing with instructions 
 for the more enlightened government of Newfoundland, 
 that had been inspired by recent events in that unhappy 
 colony, backed by something like a revolt of the merchants 
 at St. John's. As evidence of this refractory spirit, Sir 
 John Duckworth had felt called upon to report the case of 
 a merchant there, who had thought proper to dispense with 
 the governor's leave, and had violently attempted to build 
 a house, which, in a daring letter to the sheriff, he had 
 avowed his intention of letting as a dwelling-house. This 
 attempt, moreover, was not that of an individual, but was 
 instigated and supported by a company of merchants and 
 settlers, who had raised a fund, " the real object of which," 
 declared the governor, "was to oppose the government,
 
 GHOSTS OF HEART'S DELIGHT. 165 
 
 and establish the right of property upon a quiet possession 
 of twenty years." This was no further back than the early 
 years of the present century. In April, 1813, the new 
 governor was authorized to make many changes, one or 
 two of which may be mentioned. The publicans of St. 
 John's, in consideration of their license to sell ardent 
 spirits, had to act as constables ; they were now to be 
 relieved of their duty and taxed for their privileges, the 
 money thus obtained being set apart to create a civic arm 
 for the proper preservation of peace and order. Grants of 
 land at an annual quit rent for the purposes of cultivation 
 were sanctioned, but with severe restrictions as to renewal 
 of leases ; the memorial of certain admirals for a rigorous 
 continuation of the enforced return of seamen after the 
 close of each fishing season, as heretofore, or for the right 
 to seize them and bring them on board His Majesty's ships 
 was disregarded ; and further evidence was not wanting on 
 all hands for indorsement of the faith that had made Alan 
 Keith obstinate in his hopes of a free Newfoundland, with 
 rights to dig and delve and make the land blossom as the 
 rose. 
 
 Such was the generous mood of the government when 
 David Plympton and his fellows stood for judgment; and 
 the magnanimity of the time has burdened the shoulders 
 of Her Majesty's ministers in our own day and hampered 
 the natural progress of the enfranchised island. Although 
 France had been the disturber of the peace of Europe, and 
 her ruler was chiefly indebted to England for his throne, 
 Great Britain, disregarding the petitions of Newfoundland 
 and her own colonial and naval interests and without any 
 reason whatever, unless it was in the way of still discredit- 
 ing and crippling the native settlers voluntarily engaged 
 to restore to the French the colonies, fisheries, factories, 
 and establishments of every kind which they possessed, in 
 1792, on the seas and on the contiment of America.
 
 1 66 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 So liberal also were the privileges conceded to America 
 that in a short time the incentive thus given to foreign 
 competition was soon the cause of serious embarrassment to 
 the colonists. Duly impressed with the importance of the 
 fisheries, both the French and Americans at once estab- 
 lished a system of bounties for their encouragement, and 
 at the same time secured for their own fishermen a monop- 
 oly of their markets by a prohibitory duty on the import 
 of foreign fish. This literally broke the financial backs of 
 a vast majority of the Newfoundland merchants and fisher- 
 men. It was as if government, relenting of her tardy acts 
 of justice, turned once more to rend the unhappy colony. 
 The price of fish fell from forty-five shillings per quintal 
 to twelve. Many large mercantile firms became bankrupt. 
 Others realized on their property and retired from the 
 country. No less than nine hundred cases arising out of the 
 general failure came before the civil courts. Bills to the value 
 of a million sterling were dishonored. The entire colony 
 was at a standstill for work, and the modest savings of the 
 industrious classes were swept away. The government had 
 to send aid to the starving people, and did so with no unstinU 
 ing hand. The innate pluck of the colonists, the recupera- 
 tive power of the English people, eventually utilized the 
 new and beneficent laws of local and imperial government ; 
 but to this day the magnanimity of the home government 
 to a beaten foe, at the expense of the colony, is an ever 
 growing seed of trouble and danger. 
 
 It was lucky, all the same, as we have said, for Plympton 
 and the rest, that their revolt, so-called, had to be considered 
 when the government was in a forgiving and generous 
 mood. Plympton was released and to some extent com- 
 pensated, the others were permitted to take service in His 
 Majesty's fleet, in which capacity they disappear from these 
 pages. 
 
 Lester Bentz, who sailed into port with the triumphant
 
 GHOSTS OF HEART'S DELIGHT. 167 
 
 St. George, was rewarded for his patriotic services with an 
 official position on the governor's staff. Cowardice and 
 canning had come out so successfully in his case ; and he 
 had the satisfaction of bestowing an official snub upon 
 Master David Plympton, whose business brought the two 
 together, Plympton as a suppliant, Lester Bentz as an 
 officer in authority in the colonial department. The 
 admiral of the St. George had to report the complete 
 annihilation of the St. Dennis, which had been used by 
 Alan Keith for piratical purposes. It was debated whether 
 Keith and his men should be proclaimed malefactors ; but 
 a super-sensible member of the Council of the Admiralty 
 urged that they wasted time in discussing dead men. 
 Moreover, there had been something gallant in the way in 
 which Keith had captured the brigantine from the King's 
 enemy ; and it was plain that he had been driven to revolt 
 and madness by the overstrained authority of Ristack and 
 the other fishing admirals, who had used their powers for 
 their individual advantages ; Keith and his fellows being 
 dead victims to their temerity in fighting an English ship 
 there let them rest. And this in effect was the verdict 
 of the court, which was too busy with a thousand living 
 questions to do more at the moment than advance the pro- 
 motion of the commander of the St. George and authorize 
 the speedy distribution of whatever prize money belonged 
 to his ship. Lester Bentz had said something about the 
 possibility of hidden treasures that might be found in the 
 locality of Keith's hiding place ; but he was vague and 
 hypothetical in his suggestions, and the admiral of the 
 St. George declared " fore Gad " that any man was welcome 
 to whatever they might dig out of the God forsaken coasts 
 and creeks about Demon's Rock. 
 
 Plympton having arranged with one of the trustees of 
 David and Miss Mumford for their removal to Yarmouth, 
 where he had legal and other associations, went back to
 
 1 68 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Newfoundland and busied himself there for some time, 
 more especially in the northern territory of Labrador. 
 Within a year or two he died and was laid to rest with the 
 remains of his wife and father at St. John's. 
 
 And so the years passed away, and the treasure of 
 Wilderness Creek reared its triple-headed lie among the 
 graves of the dead and gone, and took upon its stony front 
 the same tokens of time and weather that marked the true 
 mementoes. In winter these silent sentinels of the Cave of 
 Demon's Rock were white with snow and frost, ghosts of 
 the icy wilderness. Summer found them green and gray 
 with moss and lichen. 
 
 In later years an occasional traveler, pioneer of trade 
 and commerce, missionary of civilization, prospector of 
 metals, and hidden stores of earth and sea, would cross 
 himself or doff his cap, at sight of the little cemetery with 
 its three cairns that stood higher than the rest, as Fate 
 might have designed for a land-mark in the mazes of this 
 strange eventful history.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 DAVID'S SWEETHEART. 
 
 SHE was the only daughter of Zaccheus Webb. He was 
 a fisherman, well-to-do, and of high repute along the coast, 
 north and south, from Cromer to Yarmouth, from Yar- 
 mouth to Lowestoft. He lived at Caister, and had helped 
 to build the lookout station at Caister Point, which is still 
 one of the artistic details of the wild coast-line that adorns 
 many a draughtsman's study of East Coast scenery. Old 
 Zacky, as his intimate friends loved to call him, liked noth- 
 ing better on quiet summer evenings, when he had leisure, 
 than to smoke a pipe with the lookout men and talk about 
 the adventures they had seen in the North Sea, and the 
 ships that had been lost on the Scroby Sands and the Middle 
 Cross. His favorite theme when he was in an argumenta- 
 tive mood was to deny the possibility set up by Justice 
 Barkstead that some day Scroby Sands might be a seaport, 
 while Yarmouth would have gone inland, deserted by the 
 sea, which had left Sandwich high and dry Sandwich in 
 the Straits of Dover. But Zaccheus was not of a con- 
 troversial disposition ; nor was he a man of educational 
 culture. He could sign his name, and make sufficient sense 
 of figures to calculate his gains and profits and estimate the 
 costs and risks of his business. His parents could have 
 had no idea of the possibilities of the character he would 
 develop when they gave him his unusual and difficult 
 Christian name of Zaccheus, which according to the Syriac 
 is understood to mean innocence ; but it was a true fore- 
 cast. Old Zacky was as unsophisticated a man outside his 
 own business as can be well imagined, and as guileless even 
 
 i6q
 
 17 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 in his trading as is consistent with keeping a balance in 
 your stocking or at your bankers. Zaccheus had with all 
 this a certain shrewd view of things that kept him not only 
 straight with the world but forth on and in front of his 
 neighbors. Briefly, it may be said of him, that he knew hi* 
 trade, believed in God, the Flying Scud, and his daughter 
 Elmira. 
 
 David Keith hoped to marry Elmira Webb as soon as he 
 had obtained his articles and should be taken into partner- 
 ship by his master, a conveyancing lawyer and general 
 practitioner, who thought more of the fine manly qualities 
 of his articled clerk than he did of his fitness for professional 
 life. 
 
 David did his utmost to acquire such knowledge as best 
 pleased old Petherick, his chief. But he knew more about 
 fishing than conveyancing. It came natural to him to sail 
 a boat, interpret the signs of the herring season, and fore- 
 cast the weather. He was born for the sea, and an eccen- 
 tric Fate had bound him to the law. Mr. Waveny Petherick 
 was a kind-hearted man ; he did not stand in the way of 
 David's nautical enjoyments ; he approved of his engage- 
 ment to Elmira Webb, and once a week he gave the lad a 
 half-holiday, on which occasions David donned such gear 
 of oilskin and canvas, as delighted the heart of Zaccheus 
 Webb, the smack owner of Caister. 
 
 For most of the week David sat at his desk, copying 
 drafts or professing to read law, while his mind wandered 
 away with the ships that came and went, moored for a little 
 time opposite his window to load or unload ; but on this 
 summer day that is eventful in this history he made holiday, 
 and it was in his mind to have it settled both with father 
 and daughter whether he should be accepted truly as the 
 future husband of Elmira Webb. He had never closed his 
 desk, and put on his nautical suit of blue flannel and rough- 
 tanned boots with such a business air. Besides, it had
 
 DAVID'S SWEETHEART. 171 
 
 become necessary that he should look the future full in the 
 face, and there was no future for him which did not give 
 him Elmira as his wife and companion. Miss Mumford 
 agreed with his intention to come to a final understanding 
 with Elmira and her father. She had failed to impress 
 David with his youth and inexperience ; she had argued 
 that he might see some other girl whom he could love ; 
 that Elmira knew but little of the world, and that she might 
 meet some other young gentleman she could care for more 
 than him ; she had dwelt upon the inadvisability of boys 
 and girls being engaged before they could really know their 
 own minds ; but finding that David was desperately in love, 
 and believed himself to be a man ; finding that Zaccheus 
 Webb rather encouraged David's unmistakable pretensions, 
 and that David had a fine prospect of being well-off in the 
 matter of mon'ey, she encouraged him to have it out with 
 Elmira. 
 
 When he left Hartley Row that afternoon to meet the 
 girl, she wished him " Good luck," and after he had gone 
 wept tears of anxiety and hope, and said a little prayer for 
 his unabated happiness. Mildred Hope, who was known 
 as " the prison visitor," came in soon after David's depar- 
 ture, and Miss Mumford poured out to her all her hopes 
 and fears. 
 
 Mildred listened with a deeper personal interest than 
 Miss Mumford understood or dreamed of ; for Mildred had 
 no wish beyond the good of others ; no object in life except 
 that of a true and unselfish philanthropy, young as she was, 
 and, according to many, comely and pretty. But Mildred 
 Hope comes into this romance a little later in the story. 
 
 Meanwhile attention is called to David Keith waiting for 
 the girl he loved with all the ardor of his youthful and 
 romantic nature. 
 
 He stood upon a wind-swept ridge of the North Dunes, 
 now shading his eyes to scan the distant roadway that came
 
 1 72 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 circuitously from Webb's house, now watching the highway 
 that crossed the sands from Yarmouth, now looking out 
 across the sea far away and in fancy lifting the veil of the 
 future. 
 
 So had Alan, his father, looked out into the years to 
 imagine a future the very opposite from that which lay 
 hidden from mortal ken, to behold which at any time might 
 paralyze the strongest. 
 
 To David the outlook was bright as the swelling sea at 
 his feet. He could see it even through the stone walls and 
 the great tin boxes in Petherick's musty office. The walls, 
 and all the dingy maps and legal notices with which they 
 were decorated, would melt away before David's thoughtful 
 gaze, and always along the bright road that lay before him 
 he would rejoice in the companionship of the prettiest, the 
 smartest, the merriest girl in all the world, Elmira Webb. 
 
 But she kept him waiting, this willful beauty. She was 
 a creature of caprice, wayward, tantalizing, but David loved 
 her all the more for her feminine weaknesses, her coquetry, 
 her pouting, and her mad-cap follies. Was she not her 
 father's pet ? Did not everybody in Yarmouth, when she 
 went there, turn to look at her in the street ? Did she not 
 outshine all the other beauties of the coast ? And was she 
 not one day to be David's wife? If Zaccheus Webb trusted 
 her with his heart and fortune, and loved the very ground 
 she trod upon, who was David that he should be impatient 
 with her for a single second. 
 
 Presently, behold she cometh ; the pretty, self-conscious 
 maiden, brave in bright apparel ; all in her Sunday best ; 
 flower-decked tuscan hat, short-waisted summer gown with 
 flowing sash and dainty boots. She has been to the town, 
 it is market-day ; and furthermore she has been on business 
 there for Zaccheus, her father ; and needs must wear her 
 best. She had been delayed somewhat, too, and there is no 
 time to change for the little sea trip she has promised
 
 DAVID'S SWEETHEART. 173 
 
 David,*who is bent on bringing in from her father's smack 
 some of the fish with which the Flying Scud is laden. 
 
 Elmira, alighting from the mail-cart that set her down on 
 the road leading to her father's house, takes her way across 
 the Dunes, and leaves behind her a long trail of tiny foot- 
 falls, prints of a dainty, high-heeled shoe, and the marks 
 thereof are wayward and uncertain. Now they sink deep 
 into the drifting sand, and leave but shallow shapes ; now 
 there are heel marks strong and firm, as if they emphasized 
 some passing thought ; and now there are light and vague 
 impressions of both sole and heel, level footfalls of a shapely 
 silver-buckled shoe. 
 
 While David waited for her and beguiled the time with 
 imaginative pictures of their future, another marked her 
 footfalls ; one who knew her wayward nature without read- 
 ing its imprint on the sand. 
 
 They were friends, the boy who waited and the man who 
 followed, the one true as steel, the other unreliable, and 
 fascinating in a manly way, as Elmira was attractive in a 
 certain feminine imperiousness that finds its most tender 
 sympathizer in temperaments such as that which made 
 David Keith her slave. Harry Barkstead had the kind of 
 reputation that has a charm for many women, however 
 innocent. He was overbearing with the sex, masterful, 
 suspected of being on too familiar terms with the charming 
 widow, Mrs. Leyton-West, whose country house was adja- 
 cent to his father's property, and he was known to have 
 made a conquest of more hearts than one, among the high- 
 bred damsels of the county who patronized the town on 
 great occasions of public state and ceremony. 
 
 Opposite natures often fraternize the better for their con- 
 trasting individualities. David Keith admired Harry Bark- 
 stead, almost envied him his knowledge of the world, and 
 delighted to make excursions with him in his yacht, and 
 to shoot over the Breydon waters, and trap the game by
 
 174 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Ormesby Lake and Fritton. Moreover Harry was in 
 David's confidence, knew all about his engagement to 
 Elmira, and sympathized with him in his ambition, domestic 
 and otherwise. Yet Harry could not, try as he would, keep 
 back an unfair, if not unholy, inspiration of competition with 
 his friend for Elmira's favors. He did honestly struggle 
 against this unfriendly direction of his inclination, and when 
 most he thought he had conquered, Elmira threw out signals 
 of encouragement, and he went blindly on, as he did on this 
 summer day, following her in the hope that he might have 
 a pleasant ittte-a-tete while old Zacky was busy at the fishing. 
 Thinking that she was going home, he resolved to call, on 
 some pretext or other, either to see her father, or ask after 
 David, or with any other excuse, when she struck off away . 
 from the house in the direction of the Lower Dunes by the 
 sea. His curiosity was piqued. He followed, never think- 
 ing, however, that she had seen him ; for where the little 
 hills and valleys gave him shelter he took it, and wandered 
 on, noting the impress of her footfalls, and dwelling upon 
 the sylph-like, willowy motion of her splendid figure, fine 
 in form, yet round and supple too. She saw the shadow 
 of it on the sand, and gave it her own complimentary 
 regard as well. She rejoiced in her beauty, she reveled in 
 the healthy beat of her pulse, and the general sense of 
 elation that came of both, combined with her well-cut 
 gown and artistic hat and summer flowers. 
 
 Alan Keith had suffered rather that Hannah, his wife, had 
 loved him with as true a heart-beat as his own. How will 
 David, his son, fare with a love that is as uncertain as an 
 April day, and yet while it lasts, is as bright as the sun that 
 shines between the showers ? 
 
 There are innocent, willful, wayward beauties who only 
 need the masterful hand of a true and loving consort to 
 make them all that man can desire, who, like the bruised 
 blossoms of the field, send forth their richest perfume
 
 DAVID'S SWEETHEART. 175 
 
 beneath the pressure of a rough, unmindful footfall. Some 
 women need control in the strongest sense of masterful 
 authority ; all women are the better when their own natural 
 tendency to tyrannize is held in check by the stronger will 
 of a none the less affectionate lover who respects himself 
 and the man's ordained authority ; while he relinquishes to 
 the woman all that belongs to her rightful share of power 
 and pays all deference to that very feminine strength which 
 in man would be counted weak. 
 
 You never saw anything more bewitching than the dark 
 blue, dreamy eyes of Elmira Webb, that were as arch as a 
 grisette's at one moment, and at another soft and enticing 
 as that of the traditional houri. Sometimes in her very talk 
 she seemed to cling and seek shelter from the world's 
 alarms ; at others she was self-possessed and defiant. She 
 had moods of merriment and moods of melancholy that 
 Zaccheus, her father, called the doldrums, the like of which 
 was natural to " gels." Her hair was brown and wavy. 
 It was tied up in a bunch high enough to show her sun- 
 burnt neck, which was suggestive of a sinuous strength. 
 She was a trifle above the medium height, just tall enough, 
 David had long ago discovered, to top his shoulder, and 
 David was within an inch of six feet. She had a finely 
 formed, flexible mouth, lips neither full nor thin, but with 
 a lurking smile or pretty sarcasm in the corners, that gave 
 piquancy to her manner and point to all she said. She had 
 a small nose, with a moderately open nostril, that suggested 
 higher breeding than her station implied, and a beautifully 
 modeled chin with a benevolent dimple in it that contra- 
 dicted other characteristics of the face and head that 
 naturally belong to the selfish and inconstant. How these 
 contradictory qualities, good and bad, developed under the 
 influences to which they were subjected remains to be 
 seen. 
 
 David Keith was the very opposite of Elmira Webb.
 
 1 7 6 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 The contrast, no doubt, had for him a subtle charm. He 
 was dark. She was fair. He was resolute and strong of 
 will. She was fantastic and fickle. He was of powerful 
 build. She was soft and willowy. He had all the capacity 
 of loving that belongs to earnest, generous nature. She 
 lacked constancy. They were a very handsome, even 
 showy couple ; she with her mischievous eyes and lively 
 manners ; he with his dark dreamy eyes, his thick black 
 hair, his bronzed, open, honest face, and in his walk the 
 swing of a young giant. To think of him sitting on a high 
 stool in Petherick's office, was a wrong to romance, and to 
 the boy's antecedents. He had inherited something of his 
 grandfather's aristocratic appearance, but underneath the 
 gentle nature his mother had given him, there burnt the 
 fires of ambition and passion, of which so far he had little 
 or no consciousness, except in the deep and intense indigna- 
 tion which was aroused in his nature by stories of wrong 
 and oppression, and an occasional yearning for adventure 
 inspired by the romances of the sea and land, which he 
 read when he should have been studying the musty law 
 books that were to fit him for his career as Petherick's chief 
 clerk, and, in the dim future, Petherick's junior partner. 
 
 " At last," the impatient lad exclaimed, " it seems an 
 eternity since three o'clock why, how splendid you look !" 
 
 He took her proffered hand as she stepped from the 
 higher ground to a dip in the dunes, and then turning 
 about to see that they were unobserved he took her face 
 between his strong hands and kissed her. 
 
 " There now, you have rumpled my hat," she said in her 
 fascinating imperative way. " Serves me right, I ought to 
 have changed it and my dress, too ; but I thought you 
 would be mad if I kept you waiting." 
 
 She turned her head as if she expected to see someone 
 on the bank. 
 
 " Mad, nothing could ever make me mad with you ! "
 
 DAVID'S SWEETHEART. l^^ 
 
 11 Oh, I don't know about that," she replied, readjusting 
 her hat, and, with an affected fastidiousness, stepping 
 among the gray-blue marrams and over the sea-thistles and 
 yellow lavender that decorated the dunes. 
 
 " Don't you see I have got on my Sunday shoes," she said, 
 in answer to his look of surprise. 
 
 " Shall I carry you ? " David replied, stopping to ask the 
 question. 
 
 " Carry me ; no ! " she said. " I don't think you could." 
 
 " Couldn't I though ! " the lad replied, putting out his 
 arms. 
 
 " Then you won't," she said. " I shall spoil my shoes for 
 all that." 
 
 " Shall I lend you mine ? " 
 
 " How can I get into that dirty boat ? " 
 
 " I'll show you," said David, " when we get there." 
 
 The boat lay in little more than an indentation of the 
 beach, made by the constant dragging of it and certain 
 yawls that were occasionally hauled up there by rope and 
 windlass, and it was quite a distance from the ridge along 
 the hilly dunes to the beach. Every now and then when 
 they were hidden from view David would stop to admire 
 the fisherman's coquettish daughter, the like of whom for 
 wit and dash and for dress and vanity, some would add 
 the whole coast from the Wash to Hunstanton, towns and 
 cities included, could not show ; and David delighted in 
 the wayward, pretty girl, more particularly on this day of 
 all others when it seemed as if she had actually dressed for 
 the occasion that to him was fraught with so much moment. 
 
 At length they came to the boat, a lumbering kind of 
 dingey, with long oars and a rough brown sail stowed away 
 on the bottom, a bit of old tarpaulin, smelling of fish, and a 
 roomy bit of seat that had been the work of David, fixed 
 low down by the tiller. 
 
 " Sand isn't dirt, you know," said David, " it really cleans
 
 178 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 things, and sand like this is good enough for Lawyer 
 Petherick's pounce-box;" jumping aboard and making a 
 gigantic duster of the tarpaulin, and then dropping it over 
 on the sand. 
 
 " I don't think I'll go," she said, meaning to go all the 
 time. " I shall spoil my things." 
 
 " Not go ! " said David, looking at her, a very sailor- 
 man in his rough jacket and his slouch hat pushed back 
 from his open forehead. 
 
 She could not help admiring him as he stood up for a 
 moment, and watched the anxious expression of his face 
 change to delight when he understood that she was only 
 playing with him. Then she mentally compared him with 
 Harry Barkstead, the university gentleman, with his super- 
 fine manners and his boastful commanding ways. 
 
 David plunged down and, thrusting his long arms into 
 the thurruck beneath the seat he had made for days of 
 sailing when Elmira was more than usually difficult to 
 please, he drew out a pilot jacket and a great woolen 
 muffler, with which he constructed a cushion. 
 
 " There ! " he exclaimed, " now give me your hand ! " 
 
 Elmira could have vaulted into the boat with ease, as 
 she .had done many a time ; but she enjoyed David's con- 
 siderate acts of courtesy. They made her feel more like a 
 lady, and less like a fisherman's daughter, though in her 
 way she was proud of her father. It was only when Harry 
 Barkstead called at their cottage that she felt a little 
 ashamed of her father's homely ways and want of 
 education. 
 
 " It's all very well to start in a clean boat, but how will 
 it be when we've taken on board a cargo of father's fish ? " 
 
 She had seen away in the distance the figure of Harry 
 Barkstead, and could not help wondering why he had fol- 
 lowed her, and then disappeared as if he had dropped into 
 the earth. He must be lying down in one of the valleys of
 
 DAVID'S SWEETHEART. 179 
 
 the dunes. "Why?" she wondered, in a curious and 
 indefinite way. 
 
 " If it comes to that," said David, " we won't take in any 
 cargo ; we'll make a passenger boat of the Swallow. By 
 the way, I wonder Zaccheus thought of calling a great lum- 
 bering boat like this the Swallow. Come, Mira ; now see, 
 it is fit for any queen, and, therefore, almost fit for you." 
 
 He took both her hands. She smiled and yielded, and 
 yet she wondered what Harry Barkstead could mean by 
 following her, and when he saw David waiting, should stay 
 behind and hide. She did not tell David what she was 
 thinking of. 
 
 " There you are," the boy exclaimed, handing her to her 
 seat. " Never saw you look so lovely. Why, your cheeks 
 are rosy as a Dutch apple." 
 
 " Tell me something else that's disagreeable," was the 
 sharp reply. "I hate to have red cheeks." And that was 
 true, for her rivals said she drank vinegar to make them 
 pale. They were pale, as a rule the delicate fairness that 
 is rare as it is healthful. 
 
 Then leaping ashore David seized the bow and tugged 
 the Swallow into the water. It was no child's play to haul 
 the dingey into the flowing tide ; but David loved to test 
 his strength and master difficulties. She was fairly afloat 
 before he clambered aboard and pushed her into deep 
 water. Then he laid hold of the oars and the Swallow 
 began to dance lightly over the swelling water that rippled 
 past her and laid tributes of weed and shell along the yellow 
 beach. 
 
 " Your cheeks are red enough anyway," said Elmira, as 
 David paused to mop his burning face with a silk bandanna 
 handkerchief which had been presented to him by " Sarah 
 Mumford to her dear, dear young master, David Keith," as 
 a birthday gift. 
 
 " I expect they are," he said, laughing, " they are hot
 
 180 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 enough, but I did not mean that yours were you know 
 what I mean, anything but lovely ; I'm a bad hand at a 
 compliment." 
 
 " You said they were red." 
 
 " I meant that there was just a little flush upon them 
 like " 
 
 " Like a dairymaid, " she replied ; " you are too compli- 
 mentary ; " and then when she saw a shadow of disappoint- 
 ment and anxiety fall across the boy's face, she laughed 
 and showed her white firm teeth, and cried, " There, don't 
 be silly, pull away ! " and took off her long gloves that 
 reached to her dimpled elbows, and laid her hand upon the 
 tiller, putting the boat's head straight for the Flying 
 Scud. 
 
 " Do you know why I was impatient for your coming to- 
 day, more particularly impatient, I mean ? " David asked, 
 pulling easy ; " of course you don't." 
 
 " It is generally because you love me so," she answered 
 archly, "at least that is your excuse for being so rude as to 
 tell me how late I am." 
 
 " Well, that is always the reason," he answered, " to-day 
 more than ever. I have something dreadfully important to 
 tell you, something that nobody knows as yet, except my 
 trustees and me." 
 
 '' It's a secret, then ?" she said. 
 
 " Yes, a sort of a secret at present," he replied. 
 
 " You mean it will no longer be a secret when you have 
 told me ! " 
 
 " They do say women can't keep secrets," said David, 
 " but I believe they can do anything ; I know you can that 
 is, anything a woman might be proud to do." 
 
 "Why have you taken to calling me a woman all at 
 once ? " she asked. " I am not so old as you ; and I'm 
 sure I never thought of calling you a man." 
 
 " Then I really believe you will when I have told you
 
 DAVID'S SWEETHEART. 181 
 
 what I was telling to the sea and the sky and the dear old 
 dunes for lack of you, when I saw you come sailing along 
 the sand-hills like a fairy yacht on a fairy sea." 
 
 "Very well, I am listening," she replied, " tell me while 
 I put the Swallow's head about here's a boat from the 
 Scud signaling us."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 DAVID TELLS ELMIRA OF HIS MISSION TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 
 
 "Steady ! let them come up to us," said David. 
 
 The Flying Scud's boat drew alongside. 
 
 " Capp'n Webb says yo' moughtn as well put back; he be 
 goin' to land catch at jetty and 'ull be hum to supper." 
 
 As a rule the fishermen ferried their hauls from the road 
 to the beach, where the women washed and packed the 
 mackerel or herrings, as the case might be, while the 
 auctioneer's bell resounded along the coast, to notify the 
 lots of fish he had for public sale. In the regular fishing 
 season, when " the poor man's fish " was the harvest of the 
 sea, in which Yarmouth chiefly engaged, the beach was a 
 sight to behold. Men must have a chief. If some bold 
 spirit does not elect itself to domineer over a community, 
 the community will elect one. Even Heart's Delight, 
 freed from the tyranny of the admiral's rule, when the fish- 
 ing season was over, must have a leader, and they obeyed 
 David Plympton. The Yarmouth fisherman, in the old 
 days, and quite late in the present century, would elect a 
 "mayor" to settle all disputes that might arise among 
 them. He was dressed in a half-classical kind of a way 
 to represent Neptune, and was carried about the town in a 
 gayly decorated boat on wheels. In the midst of these 
 opening festivities the Dutch fishing fleet would come sail- 
 ing in, and then there was the " Dutch Sunday," with its 
 commingling of foreign folk and British, and " all the fun 
 of the fair," which the knowing Hollanders held upon the 
 beach for the sale of various toys and wooden shoes, globes 
 of cheese, and red-faced apples. Added to the Dutch
 
 DAVID TELLS ELM IRA OF HIS MISSION. 183 
 
 fleet, the North Country boats often brought owners and 
 captains and their wives, and they lodged in the Rows, and 
 helped to make Yarmouth busy on market days, when the 
 local traders and kiddiers laid out their stalls and spread 
 their white awnings, making the market square gay and 
 busy. 
 
 But this July fishing of Zaccheus Webb and the rest was 
 what might be called the off-season, and it made no partic- 
 ular addition to the beach life of the time ; and, moreover, 
 old Zacky had a warehouse and fish-curing place in the 
 town, and he generally had carts at the jetty to carry his 
 cargoes thither, except now and then in the matter of a 
 small take in a July fishing. 
 
 "All right," said David, and Elmira waved her handker- 
 chief to the Flying Scud, which had lifted her anchor, and 
 was already inviting the breeze with her great brown 
 sails. 
 
 " But we won't put back, eh ? " 
 
 " No," said Elmira. " Won't you hoist sail, and then 
 you can talk without stopping to puff and blow like a 
 grampus, as father would say." 
 
 She leaned back and laughed as she criticised her com- 
 panion, who had found his secret and the heat a little 
 trying. 
 
 " I am not quite up to my usual form, I grant you," 
 said David, "but I'm equal to row you to the opposite 
 coast and cast anchor at Schevenham, if you wish." 
 
 " No, thank you. I know how strong you are, and how 
 proud you are of it," she replied, still laughing. 
 
 " Who have you been sharpening your wit upon in the 
 town ? " the boy asked, shipping his two heavy oars. 
 
 " If you smudge my gown I'll never forgive you," she 
 said, without noticing his question, but moving as far away 
 as she could from the mast and ropes which David began to 
 get into place. Presently he hauled up the lugger sail, and
 
 1 84 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Elmira put the boat about to catch the breeze which began 
 to freshen as the sun declined. 
 
 " You really ought to be a sailor," said Elmira, as the 
 boy hauled the sail taut against the mast, and offered her 
 the control of the rope. 
 
 " There," he said, making a cushion of a piece of tar- 
 paulin and a pilot jacket which he had flung into the boat 
 at starting. " If you'll sit here, I'll come to the tiller. 
 That's it ; and if I ought to be a sailor, I'm sure you ought 
 to be a sailor's wife." 
 
 " Oh, indeed," she said, " it is not my ambition, I assure 
 you." 
 
 " I hope not, for I am to be a lawyer ; but law or no law, 
 we'll have our boat, Mira, not to say our yacht." 
 
 " Will we ? " she said, settling herself comfortably at his 
 feet, and holding the line with the hand of an expert. 
 
 " Will we ? Why, of course we will ; and we'll sail right 
 round the world. When I come into my money, Mira, I 
 fear I shall astonish poor old Petherick." 
 
 " Yes ? " she said, " I didn't know you were coming into 
 any money, David." 
 
 " Nor did I," said David, " until this week ; that is one 
 of the things I want to talk about." 
 
 " Very well, as I said before, I am listening." 
 
 " This is how it is ; my grandfather Plympton died ten 
 years ago ; he left me his heir, but his lands had been con- 
 fiscated ; the case has been in the courts ; his trustees 
 have been fighting it off and on ever since he died, and at 
 last it has been decided that a certain piece of territory at 
 Heart's Delight in Newfoundland, originally granted to his 
 father and which he inherited, is to be restored to his heirs 
 and assigns well, Mira, my dear, I am his heir and 
 assigns in fact his heir, and I am to go to Newfoundland 
 to take possession." 
 
 " To Newfoundland ! " Elmira exclaimed.
 
 DAVID TELLS ELM IRA OF HIS MISSION. 185 
 
 " Yes, to Newfoundland." 
 
 " You seem very glad." 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " To go away. And yet you say you love me and cannot 
 live without me." 
 
 " That is why I am glad." 
 
 " Indeed." 
 
 " Because, you see, when all that is settled I shall come 
 back and marry you." 
 
 " It takes two to make a wedding," said Elmira. 
 
 " I know that, and we shall be the happiest two in the 
 world," he said, leaning over her and kissing her. 
 
 " You are very masterful now that you are going to have 
 a bit of money," she said, untying her hat, and pinning the 
 strings to the waistband of her gown. 
 
 " Yes, my own," he said, smoothing her hair as she 
 coquettishly laid her head near him and then rested it upon 
 his knee. 
 
 " And are you going to be rich, David ? " 
 
 " No, not exactly rich ; Petherick doesn't know what the 
 land's worth yet ; and there is, it appears, a recent pur- 
 chase of territory in Labrador that the old man made just 
 before he died, but Petherick says it is a piece of no-man's 
 land that's worth nothing to anybody unless there may be 
 minerals ; supposing there are, they might not be worth 
 working, so the Labrador inheritance does not count." 
 
 " I never said I would marry you," laughed Elmira, 
 pressing her head against him. 
 
 " You have said it in your eyes ; you have said it with 
 your lips when they uttered no words, and with your dear 
 hand when we have said good-night ; you are saying it 
 now. O Mira, what would become of me if you were to 
 say no, or if I lost you, or we were parted ; well, I should 
 go crazy, that's all ! " 
 
 She permitted David to draw her nearer to him so that
 
 1 86 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 he could look into her eyes, and as he loosed the tiller, and 
 the boat drifted with a flapping sail, he kissed her with his 
 burning lips and in a hoarse whisper, asked her if she truly 
 loved him ; " not as I love you," he said, " with all my 
 heart and soul, and with every thought, and at every 
 moment of my life, night and day ; but enough to bear with 
 me, and let me devote my life to you ? " 
 
 "Yes, David, I love you," she said, overcome with his 
 passion, and returning his hot kisses, " and I will marry 
 you ! " 
 
 "My darling !" he exclaimed, "My darling!" and he 
 could say no more ; nor did he speak for ever so long, and 
 the boat drifted round and headed as if of her own accord 
 for Caister and home. 
 
 The sun was sinking beneath the sea. A light cool 
 breeze arose. David kept the Swallow's head straight for 
 Caister ; and for the time being the world held no happier 
 couple than David Keith and Elmira Webb. She had 
 given herself up to the glamour of the time. He had 
 realized in her confession the dearest wish of his heart.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 " 'TWAS DOWN IN CUPID'S GARDEN." 
 
 LOVE or what is generally known as love is a ticklish 
 business. Elmira, with David's arm round her as they 
 walked along the dunes in the moonlight to her father's 
 cottage, believed she loved David Keith. Between his 
 embraces, and as sequels to his predictions of happy days in 
 store, she indulged in curious speculations of what Harry 
 Barkstead would say. He was the beau ideal of the east 
 coast girl's fancy he was so bold, " had such a way with 
 him, and was so much the gentleman." 
 
 Then there were other wooers who had followed Elmira 
 with their eyes and sent her hot love messages on St. 
 Valentine's day. 
 
 It occurred to her to think there was something selfish in 
 David's desire to secure her all to himself, to rob her of the 
 freedom of flirtation ; but the last he should never do, she 
 whispered to herself, even as he talked of his trip to New- 
 foundland and his return to marry his love and set up house- 
 keeping wherever she pleased. 
 
 The truth is Elmira had not the gift of constancy. She 
 was constitutionally disingenuous. She could not help it 
 perhaps. If she had had some guiding authority to warn her 
 against her natural shortcomings she might have improved 
 upon them. She lacked conscientiousness. Her moral 
 faculties were weak. What phrenologists call self-esteem 
 and amativeness were out of proportion with the controlling 
 organs necessary to make them virtues. Elmira's mother, 
 moreover, died when she was a child, and she had a certain 
 politic strain in her intellectual organism that enabled and
 
 1 88 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 induced her to disguise from her father those characteristics 
 which might have shocked or pained him, rough and uncul- 
 tured though he undoubtedly was, for his education had 
 been an experience by land and sea, altogether outside of 
 books and schools. 
 
 The common people of Caister and Yarmouth called 
 Harry's father, Justice Barkstead ; the county folk knew 
 him as Sir Anthony Barkstead, Baronet. As a justice of 
 the peace, however, he had won more renown than he had 
 in his position as a baronet of the United Kingdom of Great 
 Britain and Ireland. He was a regular attendant at the 
 Sessions, and he was a county magistrate as well as a magis- 
 trate of the borough of Yarmouth, having qualifications in 
 both county and town. He was a very rich man, had come 
 of a rich family, and had married a rich wife, chiefly through 
 whose influence he had been made a baronet ; for curiously 
 enough his descent from the Barkstead who was military 
 governor of Yarmouth for Cromwell, had militated against 
 him with the king and the government, so long reaching 
 is the royal and aristocratic memory of England. Yarmouth 
 had sided with the Parliament, and had suffered consider- 
 ably for its hostility to the king. At the restoration the 
 Yarmouth corporation was purged of its disaffected mem- 
 bers, and an address of sorrow and grief that had been 
 voted on the death of Cromwell was obliterated from the 
 town records. The local charters were surrendered for new 
 ones, which gave the king power to nominate his adherents 
 to the chief offices of the borough. Barkstead and others 
 of the Parliament's adherents fled to Holland. The States, 
 under pressure, gave them up, and they were hanged, drawn, 
 and quartered at Tyburn, Barkstead, the ancestor of the 
 Yarmouth justice of our story, with the rest, taking their 
 death cheerfully and maintaining that what they had done 
 was in the cause of justice. Succeeding Barksteads lived to 
 prosper and win the respect of Hollanders and the men of
 
 "'TWAS DO WN IN CUPID'S GARDEN. " 189 
 
 Norfolk and Suffolk, but whenever honors for any of them 
 were spoken of, the Premier of the time shrunk from recom- 
 mending for distinction the descendants of a man who signed 
 the death warrant of Charles, and was hanged at Tyburn. 
 Strange that this should have been remembered against 
 them in spite of services in Parliament and in battle ; but 
 when Squire Barkstead, of Ombersley Hall, justice of the 
 peace and millionaire, married into the family of the loyal 
 Pastonnes, the criminal strain, so-called, was overlooked, 
 and while quite a boy Harry was made heir to a baronetcy 
 as well as heir to thousands of freehold acres besides foreign 
 scrip and shares in the New River near London. Sir 
 Anthony was a man of scrupulous honor, generous to a fault, 
 but rigid in his views of morality and religion, a fearless and 
 honest justice of the peace, regarding the poor rather with 
 lenience than the rich, whom he debited in his judgments 
 with their advantages of education and responsibility to 
 society whenever it came to be his duty to deal with what 
 Yarmouth called the quality. 
 
 Justice Barkstead had loved his wife devoutly. On her 
 deathbed she had commended Harry to his affectionate 
 care, and Sir Anthony had found comfort and solace in the 
 lad's advancement until of late years, when he had grown 
 out of his control and authority, a patron of the turf, fond 
 of society, a man of fashion in London, with a stable at 
 Melton, a yacht at Cowes, and guilty of every extravagance. 
 Of late years he and his father had had serious words about 
 his excessive expenditure. Sir Anthony had pointed out to 
 him that such a leakage as he had introduced into the 
 Barkstead banking account might in time drain off not only 
 thousands but millions. Harry would for a time neutralize 
 the ill effect of these scenes by a visit to Ormsby, to join 
 his father in his country work and pleasures, visiting his 
 friends, sitting with him on the bench, shooting over his 
 manors, flushing the duck covers at Fritton and Ormsby
 
 19 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 broads, and making himself generally agreeable. These 
 visits, alas ! were incidents in the lives of some of the girls 
 of Yarmouth and Lowestoft that left sad shadows behind 
 them. Harry Barkstead was known to the county as a 
 remarkably successful young fellow with women, " a regu- 
 lar Don Juan, by Jove," it was said at the county club. 
 The worst of it all was the fellow had such pleasant and 
 gracious manners; he was just as free and frank with the 
 poor as he was with the rich ; he had inherited from his 
 mother the charm of manner for which the Pastonnes were 
 distinguished, and with it the gracelessness and villainous 
 gallantries of the court at which the Pastonnes were famous 
 in its worst days. When Harry brought his yacht round 
 to Yarmouth he would make friends with the entire com- 
 munity, take seats for their new theater, attend their con- 
 certs, visit with the mayor, and boat along the shore to 
 talk to the beachmen. He had long shown a particular 
 fancy for old Zacky Webb and the lookout men of Caister 
 Point. Many a time had he sat and smoked a cigar in the 
 little house on stilts and discussed nautical affairs with 
 them. He loved " to get old Zacky on " about Sir 
 Anthony's notions concerning the destinies of Scroby Sands 
 and Yarmouth. 
 
 David felt it an honor to have Harry Barkstead for his 
 friend whenever that young hidalgo visited Onnsby Hall. 
 What wonder, then, that Elmira Webb should feel flattered 
 by his attentions. She was clever enough, however, to 
 understand that there was more of the real true lover in 
 David than in Harry. She was vain enough to think she 
 could rival the prettiest of women, whatever their high 
 position might be, if she had a chance ; but it was already 
 a tradition of the coast that Harry Barkstead was not a 
 marrying man. On the contrary he was looked upon, by 
 such young women as Elmira had heard discuss him, as a 
 sultan who threw his handkerchief, a cavalier who counted
 
 "'TWAS DO WN IN CUPID'S GA RDEN. " 191 
 
 his conquests, and could never be caught in the bonds of 
 matrimony. Elmira went to church and taught in the Sun- 
 day school, so she knew what the young women of Yar- 
 mouth thought about young Squire Barkstead, as some of 
 them called him. Furthermore, Mildred Hope had in her 
 quiet way ventured to caution her against the blandishments 
 of Sir Anthony's son, who not only chatted with Zaccheus 
 at Caister Point, but looked in occasionally at the cottage 
 on the dunes to chat with him about the mysteries of his 
 trade. 
 
 Indeed, when David and Elmira arrived at Webb's 
 quaint old house on the night of their memorable sail, 
 Harry Barkstead was sitting in the little garden, smoking 
 a cigar. He had been there for over an hour, during the 
 latter part of which he had been watching through a short, 
 but effective glass the maneuvers of the Swallow not to 
 mention the maneuvers of the boat's happy occupants. 
 The devil of selfishness and lust had tempted him to be 
 jealous of his unsophisticated friend, David Keith. 
 
 There are natures that cannot endure to look upon the 
 happiness of either friend or foe ; jealous natures that hate 
 other men's successes even in the ordinary paths of life ; 
 but the professed " lady-killer," as some men are wont to 
 be called, is not inaptly typified by the dog in the manger. 
 
 Harry Barkstead found his friendship for David and his 
 liking for old Zaccheus Webb in conflict with his habit of 
 being first and foremost in all things. He resented David's 
 successful courtship of the girl who had turned many a 
 young head on the coast and inland, and was acknowledged 
 to be phenomenally pretty. How, indeed, she came to be 
 Zaccheus Webb's daughter was mirthfully treated as a 
 mystery of heredity in the county circles of Norfolk where- 
 ever Harry had heard her mentioned. 
 
 It was a garden in which holier thoughts than those that 
 occupied Harry's mind might well have had place; but
 
 192 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Eden was beyond all gardens lovely, and yet the serpent 
 had his way there ; and why in the still more degenerate 
 days of this history should one be surprised at the spirit of 
 evil invading the little paradise of Webb's cottage on the 
 Upper Dunes at Caister. Harry Barkstead sat upon a 
 rustic seat that had been made out of the timbers of a wreck 
 on the North Cross sands, backed with the figure-head of an 
 East Indiaman, a dusky beauty with -golden crown and 
 necklace, propitiatory deity of some long lost vessel trading 
 to the Eastern seas. The gold had faded, and the dark 
 visage aud half robed form was worn with time and tide, 
 with wind and weather, the original timber showing through 
 the rough tawdry blue of the gown, the grain of the origi- 
 nal oak marking the not too comely features of the pathetic 
 image, all that was left of a well formed ship, that had 
 sailed the seas with brave and merry hearts, to go to pieces 
 at last upon the Needles, whither Zaccheus had brought 
 this relic for his Norfolk garden. " Not as he moughtn't a 
 got a more ornamental figger at hum, but seemed as if un 
 took to the dark lady, and so bein' in them other seas he 
 brote her along," and set her up for a token of the dangers 
 of the deep. 
 
 Harry heeded her not, nor the hollyhock nor nasturtiums 
 that half hid her battered visage, the tall pyramidian flowers 
 of pink and red growing aloft and waving in the breeze 
 like half-furled flags, the nasturtiums creeping after them 
 and clinging to seat and figure, and putting forth cheerful 
 splashes of color and great round leaves that waved in 
 sympathy with the hollyhock's flexible columns of leaf and 
 bloom. 
 
 It was a large square garden of summer flowers, arranged 
 in well-kept beds, and bordered with paths of sea sand. 
 Clove pink and sweet briar mingled their perfumes with the 
 rose, and great yellow pansies lay in beds alongside bunches 
 of dwarf sweet-pea.
 
 "'TWAS DOWN IN CUPID'S GARDEN." 193 
 
 The cottage was built of ordinary local brick and stone, 
 with a wooden porch and seat, and over the door and up 
 beneath the eaves of the chamber windows climbing roses 
 clustered close and sweet. It is not always sunny along 
 the east coast ; inland the wind blows, the rain beats ; it is 
 often bitterly cold even in June and July, but nothing 
 seems to make any difference to the flowers even to this 
 day. You may ride and drive through Norfolk and Suffolk 
 in cold or storm, in sun or shower, and you shall still find 
 every bit of available garden that is not devoted to kitchen 
 vegetables, herbs, and fruits, thick with luxuriant flowers, 
 every cottage rejoicing in floral color and perfume, every bit 
 of frontage gay with flowers that seem to climb into the 
 window boxes and spread themselves over walls and up the 
 homely sides of cottage doors. 
 
 Such a garden was that which fronted Zaccheus Webb's 
 cottage, which was by no means an ordinary cottage ; it 
 had two stories, and on the ground floor house-place and 
 best parlor, besides front kitchens and back kitchens, and 
 a stable wherein Zaccheus kept an old cob that was useful 
 for hauling boats upon the dunes and bringing in coal from 
 Yarmouth and other purposes. This also gave Zaccheus 
 a good excuse for keeping a man to attend to the garden 
 and do odd jobs afloat and ashore ; and old Charity Dene, 
 his housekeeper and domestic servant in general, took care 
 to make that sea and stable help useful in both house and 
 garden. It was as comfortable and well-ordered a home as 
 you might find in a march of fifty miles, be the dwelling 
 rich man's or poor ; for Elmira was no sloven ; she was 
 just as house-proud as she was vain of her personal appear- 
 ance ; she lent a willing hand to Charity Dene, and was up 
 and at work with the earliest lark that sang to the varied 
 heavens that changed from gray to blue, from sun to dark- 
 ness above the rolling dunes. The best parlor was her own 
 special delight. Within a few months of the time when
 
 194 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 David asked her to marry him, Zaccheus had added a 
 spinet to its curious and miscellaneous furniture. He had 
 brought it during a business cruise all the way from Boston 
 in Lincolnshire, a relic probably of a home that had con- 
 tributed its emigrants to the ships that had sailed thence 
 and from the Netherlands to people Massachusetts. Once 
 a week Mildred Hope had given Elmira a lesson upon the 
 spinet, and already the precocious pupil could play a little 
 tune all out of her own head. One day, to Mildred's 
 astonishment, she sang the words, too, and with as pretty 
 and dainty a grace as heart could desire, though Mildred 
 would rather the ballad had been of a more serious turn 
 than : 
 
 'Twas down in Cupid's garden 
 
 For pleasure I did go, 
 To see the fairest flowers 
 
 That in the garden grow. 
 The first it was a jessamine, 
 
 The lily, pink, and rose, 
 And surely they're the fairest flowers 
 
 That in the garden grows. 
 
 Mildred did not deny the aptness of the song's compari- 
 sons of girls and flowers, but she contended that there was 
 an over-boldness on the part of the maiden, who, telling the 
 stranger she meant to live a virgin and still the laurel wear, 
 straightway changed her mind and made quick confession 
 thereof : 
 
 Then hand in hand together 
 
 This lovely couple went, 
 Resolved was the sailor boy 
 
 To know her full intent 
 To know if he would slighted be 
 
 When to her the truth he told ; 
 Oh, no ! oh, no ! she cried, 
 
 I love a sailor bold ! 
 
 I love a sailor bold !
 
 "'TWAS DOWN IN CUPID* S GARDEN." 195 
 
 Mildred Hope's serious tone of mind was in revolt at 
 Elmira's choice of ballads ; but Zaccheus Webb loved the 
 old songs, and had sat in wonderment and delight at 
 Elmira's performance, the more so when he was informed 
 that she taught herself the song and the accompaniment 
 too. There was a music store in Yarmouth, where Elmira 
 had picked up several simply set songs and " Cupid's 
 Garden " was a favorite ballad in Zack's youth ; indeed, he 
 confessed to having sung it himself when first he knew 
 Mira's dead and gone " mawther, rest her sawl ! " Mildred 
 took a pathetic interest in Elmira, and in a sad kind of way, 
 in spite of David Keith's engagement to the girl, seemed to 
 see Elmira in that denying maiden of the song, taking 
 with " No " still fresh upon her lips the proffered hand of 
 the sailor bold, and going straightway to perdition.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " BREAKERS AHEAD ! " 
 
 " So here you are at last," said Harry Barkstead, as David 
 and Elmira pushed back the gate and entered Cupid's 
 Garden. 
 
 " And you, too ! " exclaimed Elmira. " Well, I never ! " 
 as if she rather answered than asked a question. 
 
 Harry threw the end of his cigar into the hedge and 
 advanced to meet his two friends his humble friends, as 
 he would have expressed it in his secret heart, notwith- 
 standing his apparent bonhomie and his frank and easy 
 manners, his happy treatment of both as if they were on the 
 most perfect equality. 
 
 " I saw your boat," he said, "and thought I might walk 
 to Yarmouth with our friend David ; my horse is at the 
 hotel, and I enjoy a tramp across the dunes." 
 
 David fancied the explanation a little labored, but not 
 the faintest idea of jealousy entered his boyish and trusting 
 mind. 
 
 "Oh, indeed," said Elmira, with a little laugh she had 
 a way of laughing, a rippling, chirruping kind of way that 
 David thought very fascinating "and you have been wait- 
 ing about all the afternoon to walk to Yarmouth with David 
 Keith?" 
 
 " How do you mean, Miss Webb ? " Harry asked, with 
 something like a forced smile of amused interest. 
 
 " Do you think I did not see you bobbing up and down 
 in the dunes an hour or two since?" she said, gathering a 
 hollyhock leaf to fan herself with. 
 
 " Did you, now?" said Harry; "odd I did not see David?" 
 
 IQ6
 
 BREAKERS AHEAD!" 197 
 
 Oh, I was waiting for Mira- 
 
 " And had eyes for no one else ; quite natural," said 
 Harry. 
 
 " Is father home ? " Elmira asked. 
 
 " No ; Mrs. Dene expects him every moment, she tells 
 me," Harry answered. 
 
 " Oh, you have seen her, then ? " asked Elmira. 
 
 " Yes, thank you, and she offered me a drink. And how 
 are you, David, my boy ? " 
 
 Harry turned from Elmira to ask after David's health, and 
 she watched the two with curious interest, taking her seat 
 on the bench which Harry had quitted as they entered the 
 garden. 
 
 " Never was better," said David, and then in a lower 
 voice, " never was happier." 
 
 " Do you know that David is going to leave us ? " Elmira 
 asked, still fanning herself with the hollyhock leaf. 
 
 " Going to leave us ! " exclaimed Harry. 
 
 " Secrets out of school," said David, shaking a long 
 finger at Elmira with mock solemnity. 
 
 " Oh, I didn't know it was a secret any more," the girl 
 replied, with her pretty tantalizing laugh. 
 
 " Nor is it, Mira, only I wanted to tell him all about it 
 myself." 
 
 " Well, tell him while I go and see after the supper," she 
 said ri&ing, from her seat and throwing down the holly- 
 hock leaf, which Harry picked up and proceeded to fan 
 himself with it, at the same time remarking that " Nature's 
 own fans are always the best, the beauties of the East pre- 
 fer them, and the palm-leaf is, I believe, the accepted fan 
 of Venus." 
 
 " I dare say," Elmira replied, with inconsequential 
 emphasis. 
 
 "I fear I am intruding," Harry remarked, as the girl 
 moved toward the cottage porch.
 
 I9 8 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 "Intruding," said Elmira, "after waiting so long no, 
 indeed ! " 
 
 She laughed, in a half-scoffing kind of way, as she 
 entered the cottage, and David and his friend could hear 
 her say, " We have two guests for supper, Charity and 
 mind you treat them well, Master David Keith and young 
 Squire Barkstead I am going to change my dress, if it is 
 worth while now that it's spoiled with pulk down on the 
 beach where we landed like sillies I feel a sorry maukin, I 
 can tell you." 
 
 Little dialectic expressions on Elmira's lips had a fas- 
 cinating sound both for David and Harry, and they were 
 always thrown off in a half-apologetic way as if the girl 
 would have them understand that she knew better, but 
 would not seem too proud of her knowledge, since her 
 father's language was full of the flavor of his Lincolnshire 
 and east coast bringing up, his mother having been a Nor- 
 folk dairymaid, his father a sailorman from Grimsby. 
 
 " Miss Webb is hardly one to complain of the pulk and 
 scum of the sea ; what have you been about, David ? " said 
 Harry. 
 
 " She was not dressed for sailing, you see ; she had been 
 into Yarmouth and had not time to put on her sea-going 
 gown," said David, with a blush suffusing his handsome 
 open face, for something in Harry's manner jarred upon 
 him. 
 
 "You are quite a gallant," said Harry, "and you ought 
 to be very proud of having Miss Webb in such a hurry to 
 join you that she has not time to change her dress." 
 
 " I don't quite know what you mean," said David. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you do ; why, didn't you tell me just now that 
 you were never happier ?" 
 
 " Yes, and it is true, but you know I don't care to have 
 my happiness nor Elmira's words treated lightly, as a mat- 
 ter for joking, I mean."
 
 " BREAKERS AHEAD!" 199 
 
 The boy flushed again, and hardly knew why. His 
 instinct suggested that Harry was not quite respectful, not 
 exactly in his words but in the manner of his utterance of 
 them, and in the way he continued to fan himself with 
 Elmira's discarded leaf. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ; why, David, what is the matter ?" he said, 
 " have a cigar till supper is ready, for we are both invited, 
 you know." 
 
 Harry flung down the hollyhock leaf, thrust his hand into 
 the breast pocket of his gray silk-lined jacket, and produced 
 a cigar case. 
 
 " No, thank you," said David, " I smoke very seldom, 
 and I can wait." 
 
 " Come, what have I said to anger you, David," asked 
 Barkstead as he proceeded to light a cigar. " Not being 
 hungry, my cigar will not spoil my supper, and I am only 
 waiting for the pleasure of your company to Yarmouth." 
 
 " Well, I did not quite like what you said, or rather, it 
 seemed to me very patronizing, and you know I can't stand 
 that." 
 
 "My dear David, forgive me if anything I have said 
 could really have hurt you ; you of all others ought to know 
 me better, old fellow here, come, say you don't think so 
 meanly of me, David ; why, you dear, weak-minded, fine 
 old fellow, shake hands and say you know I did not mean 
 it whatever it was." 
 
 "Oh, all right, Harry," said David, taking the proffered 
 hand, " I suppose I am supersensitive just now ; I must 
 be a fool to think you could willfully say anything to hurt 
 me." 
 
 " Of course ; come and sit down ; what a lovely garden 
 this is. Do you know it has been quite a rest to sit here 
 and look at the flowers and combat their perfumes with 
 the fumes of Raleigh's golden weed. I declare Ormesby 
 Hall has nothing to show equal to these hollyhocks, nor to
 
 200 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 those blush-roses that seem to take a positive delight in 
 blooming and making a carpet as well for the butterflies to 
 walk upon." 
 
 " You are quite poetic," said David, crowding his lanky 
 person into the corner seat in the shadow of the weather- 
 beaten figurehead. 
 
 " Oh, don't imagine you are the only fellow that appreci- 
 ates Shakspere and the musical glasses," Harry answered. 
 " But what is this about your going away, this secret out of 
 school ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'll tell you as we walk to Yarmouth," said David ; 
 " I'm too hungry to talk." 
 
 " That's right ; when a fellow is hungry his head is level, 
 and his heart is in the right place ; I don't know any other 
 cry that is so pleasant to satisfy as the cry of hunger. Well, 
 let us go into the house and see what Mrs. Charity Dene 
 has for supper." 
 
 He flung his cigar down upon Elmira's hollyhock leaf, 
 and took David's arm in an almost affectionate way, and 
 they sauntered along the box-edged path beneath the 
 porch way that was laden with honeysuckle, and into the 
 cottage. 
 
 Elmira went into her bedroom and lighted two candles 
 in their old brass sconces on each side of the dressing-table. 
 It was not dark. The sun had gone down, but the twilight 
 was radiant with its after-glow. At the same time Elmira, 
 after looking out for a moment upon the garden where the 
 two young men were hidden behind the commanding figure 
 of the dusky Venus, drew the curtains over her window, and 
 then she needed the candles. She looked at herself in the 
 mirror which they illuminated, and smiled ; pushed her 
 rich brown hair from her forehead, and then drew it back 
 again ; stepped a few yards from the glass so that she could 
 see part of her dainty figure, and laughed again, not her 
 regular rippling laugh but one of approval
 
 "BREAKERS AHEAD!" 2OI 
 
 " My face may be a little red, but it is the heat ; he need 
 not have reminded me of it," she said. " Its very hot 
 now." 
 
 She drew the curtains and undid the hatch of the window 
 to let in the evening air. Then she put out her candles, 
 drew the curtains back, and opened both the lead-glazed 
 wings of her lattice and looked out, drawing in a long 
 breath. 
 
 " I declare I feel faint, as the town girls say," she 
 remarked. " Never knew what it was before ; think I am 
 bothered." 
 
 She saw the lights of ships at sea. The sun had left a 
 red streak far away beyond them. 
 
 The crescent moon attracted her. It was sharp and 
 bright now that the sun had gone. It. shone like burnished 
 silver, and there were a few stars here and there. They 
 seemed to have a mist about them that made the moon look 
 all the brighter. 
 
 "You look as if you were glad," she said, addressing the 
 moon ; " they say you can see and hear what lovers do and 
 think. Eh, dear, but I wish I was free again ! What is a 
 girl to do who has nobody to confide in ? Squire Bark- 
 stead is very handsome ; well, so is David Keith and 
 there's no mistake about David, he loves me true, for sure ! 
 But I must go down ; they'll think I have been doing myself 
 up and making myself fine all this time. Mira, dear, 
 what's the matter with you ?" 
 
 She closed the^svindow. " I feel as if I was dreaming," 
 she said. She relighted the candles and drew the white 
 dimity curtains, their brass rings making a homely music, 
 and she began to hum the tune of "Cupid's Garden." 
 
 Then she took off her dress and donned another hardly 
 less becoming, though it was of cotton stuff and brown ; it 
 had a short waist and short sleeves, leaving Mira's arms 
 bare. She tied a blue ribbon round her neck and there
 
 202 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 hung from it a tiny locket of yellow gold. It contained a 
 lock of her mother's hair and a faded rose-leaf from a rose 
 that Harry Barkstead had sent her in a valentine, " grown 
 for her," as he said, " in the hothouse of his love." Did 
 she know it was from Harry Barkstead ? Oh, yes, he had 
 confessed it one day when he was complimenting her father 
 on the Caister roses. No, he had not confessed it right 
 out, but when Zaccheus was lighting his pipe he had 
 hummed the words to a familiar tune, and when Zaccheus 
 looked up to listen he had said Miss Webb ought to learn 
 that song. 
 
 Harry was one of those daring wooers who mean noth- 
 ing serious and whom some women encourage to their 
 cost. 
 
 As Elmira tripped down the darkened stairway into the 
 house-place, her father was heard in the back regions of 
 the cottage giving orders to Simeon, his man-of-all work, 
 and presently in he came, bring with him whiffs of sea and 
 land, a suggestion of fish and tobacco, and a generally 
 breezy presence, as if a boat's crew had just landed in the 
 cottage precincts. 
 
 " Mira, my gal, there you be!" he said, taking no 
 notice of the others, "I thought I see yer as cummed 
 across the meals, but it wern't, mek no doubt ; so there 
 yer be ! " 
 
 He took her into his sea-jacketed arms and kissed her with 
 a hearty smack, and then looked round about him. "Why, 
 squire, this be good for sore eyes, and David, the lawyer, 
 welcuni; yer looks keinder kedgy, and that's how I'm 
 feelin' mysen ; and I reckon we can all peck a bit." 
 
 " But first you will have a wash, eh, father ?" said Elmira. 
 
 "That's so," said Zaccheus, " fishin's not the cleanest 
 trade, tho't mucks gowd as well as kibbage now and agen, 
 thank the Lord ! " 
 
 As he left the house-place his heavy boots clanked upon
 
 " BREAKERS AHEAD .' " 203 
 
 the hard brick floor, and it seemed as if he filled the door- 
 way. He was a big, burly, broad, nautical-looking man, a 
 cross between coasting captain and beachman. Added to 
 a wrinkled weather-beaten face, something the color of the 
 dunes with streaks of red in it, he had a bright gray eye, a 
 cheerful generous mouth, and a frank, honest, out-spoken 
 manner ; he grew his whiskers like a stiff fringe round his 
 face ; they joined his bushy dark hair that had only a few 
 gleams of white in it ; and he moved about with a cumber- 
 some motion, something like a Dutch barge in shallow 
 water. 
 
 Charity Dene had laid the cloth, and at the fire, going 
 solemnly round and round upon a primitive jack, was a 
 great joint of beef, and beneath it was a batter pudding, 
 into which the gravy was dripping, making a rich luscious 
 covering of the brown batter. Swinging over the fire in 
 an iron pot were half a peck of potatoes in their skins, and 
 in a smaller saucepan some fresh-shelled peas, grown in the 
 straggling kitchen garden of the cottage. 
 
 David and Squire Barkstead sat near the low bay win- 
 dow upon an old cushioned seat, their heads now and then 
 coming in contact with a score or two of fuschia and gera- 
 nium plants that filled all the lower panes with a wealth of 
 blooms. Elmira followed her father, and by the time Mrs. 
 Dene had served the supper she returned with Zaccheus 
 spruced up in a black coat with pockets at the side, a light- 
 blue waistcoat and white stock, and in ordinary boots, now 
 looking the well-to-do smack owner to the life. 
 
 " You'n come fortitnet," said Mrs. Dene, addressing 
 David and the squire ; " we'n cooked this to be cawd for 
 remainder the week, Mira thowt it mought be hot for the 
 Mester and Mester Keith like." 
 
 " I'm always fortunate, Mrs. Dene, when I come to the 
 cottage," said Harry, placing a chair for Elmira, in his 
 ready and courtly way, at least Elmira thought it was
 
 204 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 courtly, and she knew that Harry went into the highest 
 society in London town. 
 
 " Thank you," she said, making a little courtesy, " but 
 I am going to draw the ale." 
 
 " No, Miss Mira, I'll do it, and thank ye," said Charity ; 
 " sit ye down, please, wi' company." 
 
 Elmira accordingly took the seat which Harry had placed 
 for her by his side, and David sat with Zaccheus at the other 
 end of the table. 
 
 Before Charity came to the cottage and she had been 
 housekeeper and general there for over five years the 
 previous domestic had sat down to table with Zaccheus and 
 Elmira, but from the first Mrs. Dene knew her place and 
 took pride in doing honor to her service as she said, and 
 loved to think of Elmira as her young mistress who was just 
 as much a lady as the finest in the land, " if larnin' and 
 accomplishments counted." On this occasion Charity was 
 unusually formal, handing round the plates and filling up 
 the tumblers with quite an air ; and Zaccheus felt, as he 
 told Elmira afterward, as if he was " hevin' his dinner at old 
 Norfolk Arms on market-day, so slick and nimble did she 
 fisherate for all ; it fairly bet him for sure." 
 
 After supper Harry led the conversation into melodious 
 grooves, talked of old songs and the concert that had been 
 given at Yarmouth. Zaccheus Webb confessed that he 
 gloried in the old ballads, and " nothin' culd mek time go 
 more easy-like and free than a good song, leastways when 
 you'd gotten a spinnet in the house and a gel as could play 
 it to a moral." 
 
 Elmira persisted that she had no ear for music and 
 couldn't play the spinnet more than a goose ; Mildred 
 Hope, she said, knew that well enough, for Mildred had 
 been trying to teach her this twelve months and could make 
 nothing of it. 
 
 "Why, Mildred only told me one day last week that you
 
 " BREAKERS AHEAD .'" 205 
 
 were getting on finely," said David, " and I thought you 
 sung that song about ' The Waterman,' a week since this very 
 evening, beautifully." 
 
 " Yes, you are very kind," said Elmira, " I know you did, 
 but you would say that if I didn't, just to please me." 
 
 " Well, I dunno 'bout that," said Zaccheus, " but, my 
 eyes, I reckon you'd be hard to beat at ' Cupid's Carding,' 
 and I says that a-knowin' it this forty year and, as Justice 
 Barkstead ud say, that's evidence." 
 
 " Won't you oblige us, Miss Webb," said Harry. 
 
 " Why, you see, parlor's locked up, hasn't been open this 
 three days, didn't mean to open it till Sunday, when 
 we expect the Prison Visitor to come and join us in 
 a hymn." 
 
 " Indeed. I wish I might have the honor of being 
 present," said Harry. 
 
 " Don't sneer," said Elmira quickly, " you needn't, for 
 it's lovely to hear Mildred Hope sing, and if you could hear 
 her tune her voice to a song, you wouldn't forget it in a 
 hurry ; ' Home, Sweet Home,' for example." 
 
 " My dear Miss Webb, I did not intend to sneer ; I am 
 sure I beg the little prison visitor's pardon." 
 
 "And on her behalf I accept your apology," said David, 
 laughing ; " she is a neighbor of mine, you know ; Miss 
 Mumford is a friend of hers." 
 
 " She's very fond of you," said Elmira, with her rippling 
 laugh. 
 
 " All the girls are fond of David," said Harry. 
 
 " That's a good un," remarked Zaccheus, as he filled his 
 pipe, " that's a good un for you, Master Keith, what do you 
 say to that ?" 
 
 "I feel honored, of course," said David, slightly embar- 
 rassed ; "it's a compliment to have the good opinion of the 
 girls." 
 
 " That's true," said the smack owner ; " I was never agen
 
 206 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 um in my time, and I knaws one as is worth her weight in 
 gold ; doan't I, Mira, my gel ?" 
 
 " Yes, father, dear ; anyhow, she knows that you are 
 worth your weight in the finest gold that was ever 
 smelted." 
 
 "Very well, then, sing us 'Cupid's Carding' and play it 
 on that there spinnet, and we'll all join chorus, eh, Master 
 
 Keith?" 
 
 
 
 " Yes," said David. 
 
 "Shall I light the candles?" asked Mrs. Dene, who had 
 been taking in the conversation as she had taken off the 
 cloth and removed the supper things. 
 
 " Yes," said Elmira ; and presently they all adjourned to 
 the little parlor, all except Zaccheus, who said he'd sit near 
 by, " as he moughtn't tek pipe in thar, not as he wanted, 
 leifer he'd sit by and when chorus come he'd reckon to mek 
 himsen heard ; " and sure enough he did. 
 
 Elmira sang in a mirthful, pleasant fashion, with a nice 
 appreciation of the words, and, for so brief a studentship, 
 with a fair aptitude in the way of accompaniment. There 
 was a smell of old lavender and country fustiness in the 
 room that seemed to go well with the music. The pictures 
 on the walls had their frames bound round with tissue 
 paper. There were lusters on the mantel shelf that jingled 
 to the vibrations of the spinnet. Mrs. Dene and Elmira's 
 father remained just outside the door, Zaccheus in his arm- 
 chair which Mrs. Dene had wheeled up for him, Mrs. Dene 
 with her arms beneath her apron, and her mouth open with 
 curiosity and pleasure. 
 
 When Elmira had sung her little song and Zaccheus and 
 the rest had joined in the chorus and afterward loudly 
 applauded the performer, Harry Barkstead sat down and 
 astonished the company with a dreamy kind of waltz that 
 seemed to set their feet a-going, and as if by way of bedevil- 
 ment, then gave them the " Manchester Angel," with all the
 
 "BREAKERS AHEAD!" 207 
 
 pathos of which the refrain is capable, and somehow Elmira 
 felt that when in the minor key he dwelt upon the words, 
 " There lives the girl for me," he had her in his mind ; 
 indeed, he looked at her when he had finished ; she felt as 
 if his eyes went through her. 
 
 " Is that a challenge to Mildred Hope !" David asked, 
 not willing that the impression Harry had created should 
 remain without some kind of protest. 
 
 " If you like," said Harry, laughing, " I did not know 
 that the prison visitor sang it, or I would not have been so 
 bold." 
 
 " Tell yer it's not same thing as prison visitir sings, her'n 
 is ' Home Sweet Home,' and if she'd tuned it off she'd a 
 med a hymn on it. Eh, Mira ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Elmira, " will you not sing another, Mr. 
 Barkstead ? and you play so well I'm quite ashamed that I 
 played at all." 
 
 " You need not be, Elmira," said David promptly. 
 
 " Truly, no indeed ; it is I who should feel ashamed," 
 said Harry, " but somehow when songs are going I am like 
 Captain Webb, I must chime in." 
 
 "That's reight, squire, that's so," said Zaccheus, "now't 
 like a good song." 
 
 The squire was at length tempted to sing one more song, 
 and Zaccheus said it was too doleful for anything, " like song 
 old cow died of, lodging on cold ground, indeed should 
 think that was place for such like," and the old fisherman 
 laughed heartily as he pressed a glass of spirits on his 
 guests, spirits as had never known derelict hand of sizeman 
 on it, and yet had come from over the water. The young 
 squire undertook to join the old man in a glass and 
 Zaccheus hoped "as Harry's lodging nor hisn for that matter 
 ud ever be on that there cold ground." 
 
 David hoped before he parted with Elmira on this event- 
 ful night to have had a word or two with her father, but he
 
 2o8 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 found no opportunity ; instead of unburdening his mind 
 and explaining his plans to Zaccheus he made a confidant 
 of Harry. He could hardly help himself. 
 
 When they were fairly on the highroad tramping to Yar- 
 mouth, Harry again referred to David's impulsive reference 
 to his happiness as well as his health, and David out with 
 it, his unexpected fortune, his proposal to Elmira, her 
 acceptance of his unworthy hand, and his vague but glorious 
 schemes of a future that might lead him anywhere. He 
 intimated that he might take a long spell of travel, even 
 have a yacht of his own, and a crew with a long gun and a 
 masked battery in case of need ; for David had read of 
 pirates ; and besides peace was hardly restored between 
 England and her many enemies, and who knew that an 
 adventurous yacht away down in the Mediterranean or in 
 the Pacific might not be signaled by some daring cruiser. 
 
 If David talked a little wildly it was because Harry 
 encouraged him, and for the reason that David was very 
 happy, pulsating with romance, and proud as if he had 
 captured a lovely princess from some pirate's lair. Harry 
 envied the lad his high spirits, his hopeful nature, his pur- 
 pose in life ; and furthermore, he thought he had never 
 seen Elmira look so bewitching as on that night, nor could 
 he make any mistake, he thought, about the significant 
 pressure of the hand she gave him in response to his own, 
 after David had, as he thought, said good-night to her in 
 a particularly ostentatious manner, even kissing her, he 
 believed, while Harry turned to say good-night to Zaccheus 
 Hitherto he had patronized David whose acquaintance he 
 had made originally through Petherick and a letter of intro- 
 duction from David's London trustee but to-night David 
 seemed to patronize him. 
 
 Moreover, David strode along the highway with a swing 
 that irritated Harry, who was not in that kind of mood. 
 The sedgy dikes fairly danced past them as they pounded
 
 "BREAKERS AHEAD!" 209 
 
 along, for Harry did not care to lag though he felt like it. 
 To everybody they met David wished a cheery good-night, 
 and was self-assertive, Harry felt, in every possible way 
 that might jar upon the young county gentleman with his 
 Oxford education and his stud at Melton, the more so that 
 hitherto David had seemed to accept Harry's friendship as 
 an honor as well as a pleasure. This was true enough, for 
 there was as a rule a modest diffidence in David's manner, 
 and he was really fond of Harry, admired him for his 
 knowledge of the world, his athletic powers, and his fine 
 natural manners. But on this night David was walking 
 on air. He had won the girl of his heart. She had said 
 yes to his momentous question, and he expected Harry 
 Barkstead, his friend, and once in a way his companion, to 
 rejoice with him, to clap him on the back, as it were, and 
 shake hands with him, to tell him he was to be envied, and 
 so on ; and it was only when they steamed into town hot, 
 not to say panting, that David felt somehow that Harry did 
 not quite feel the pleasure he affected, when at last he said, 
 " Well, old chap, I must congratulate you, and wish you all 
 the happiness you can desire." 
 
 It was coldly offered, and before David could reply 
 Harry said, "Come into the Royal and join me in a stirrup- 
 cup, I see my groom waiting for me ; it's a glorious night 
 for a ride.' 
 
 " No, thank you, Harry, not to-night ; I shall be waited 
 for also, and I am rather la-te." 
 
 " Lats," said Harry, " it is only half-past nine." 
 
 " That's "late for Miss Mumford, and I want to have a 
 chat with her before she goes to bed." 
 
 " Well, good-night then," said Harry ; and so they 
 parted, each thinking of Elmira Webb ; David not for a 
 moment suspecting the selfish jealousy that had taken pos- 
 session of the sensual soul of Sir Anthonv Barkstead's 
 unscrupulous son.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 MILDRED HOPE. 
 
 A CORNER house on the South Quay. The front door is in 
 a short street, looking upon the old town hall. The short 
 street leads into Middlegate. Next door is the Royal Oak 
 where sailors come to drink and meet skippers on the look- 
 out for new hands. A quaint old tavern with a bit of 
 garden in front and red blinds to its small square panel 
 windows. The old house (not the tavern) extends round 
 the corner upon the quay. To-day it is fronted by a rail- 
 road, running between the highway and the ships. In the 
 days of David Keith the vessels were loaded or unloaded 
 by the aid of carts and wagons. To-day there are steamers 
 moored to the quay, and on the other side of the docked 
 river there are great flour warehouses and other important 
 buildings. In David's boyhood the outlook consisted of 
 sailing ships, coasters, barges, picturesque sheds in the 
 foreground, and in the distance a windmill with gray 
 timbers and great swinging sails, such as Don Quixote 
 tilted at in the famous Spanish romance. Along the quay 
 foreign sailors went to and fro, and fishermen with clusters 
 of fish on a string, contributions from the day's catch for 
 the "mawther's" supper. 
 
 The old house was Petherick's office. The owner's name 
 was set forth on a brass plate that shone like the sun. The 
 room with the bay window overlooking the quay was the 
 general office, in which David Keith had a desk all to him- 
 self. Frequently he had the room all to himself, to read 
 his books, other than legal treatises, or to sit and watch the 
 ships as they came and went, moored to the quay for a
 
 MILDRED HOPE. 2H 
 
 time, presently to disappear, and make their way out of the 
 river at Gorleston, into the North Sea, whence David pic- 
 tured them in all weathers on their varied journeys. 
 
 He gave them many and strange adventures ; sent them 
 plowing their way into unknown seas ; had them captured 
 by pirates, and their crews sold into slavery ; sent them 
 out sometimes with masked batteries and wonderful sailing 
 powers to meet an enemy, who had counted on an easy cap- 
 ture, to be himself taken as a prize. He sat upon his tall 
 desk, pen in hand, but he was far away in imagination ; 
 and since the news about Newfoundland, he looked further 
 afield and with more certainty of latitude and longitude ; 
 for he had consulted the office atlas and found both Heart's 
 Delight and St. John's, and, furthermore, he had talked to 
 sailormen who had traded to those seas ; knew the Atlantic, 
 and could tell grim stories of Labrador and Demon's Isle. 
 
 Miss Mumford now found him keen on every point that 
 belonged to Newfoundland and his father's history, and 
 Mildred Hope would look in upon Sally and her foster lad, 
 as she loved to call him, and help David to cross-examine 
 Miss Mumford concerning her many and curious experi- 
 ences. Mildred Hope lived in two rooms in Hartley's Row 
 close by Miss Mumford's house. 
 
 Mildred, though but a few years older than David, was 
 well-known in Yarmouth. Among the poor she was as 
 familiar a figure as the bellman or Zaccheus Webb, the smack 
 owner. Mildred was a remarkable young woman. She was 
 an orphan, and known in the town as " the prison visitor." 
 She lived on an annuity of fifty pounds a year, which she 
 augmented by working embroidery and teaching the rudi- 
 ments of music. She was of a distinctly religious turn of 
 mind, but belonged to no sect or denomination ; she wor- 
 shiped in every church, even deigning to attend Mass occa- 
 sionally at the little Catholic chapel. 
 
 If there had been a Friend's Meeting House in Yarmouth
 
 212 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 she would to all outward appearance have looked most at 
 home there, for she dressed very much in the Quaker fashion 
 and never varied it, except to don for Sundays and feasts 
 and celebrations a superior texture of gown to that she 
 wore every day, once in a way appearing in silk. She 
 usually wore a dove-colored gray dress, and a small straw 
 bonnet with dove-colared strings tied beneath her chin. 
 She was under the average height, and small in figure, neat, 
 dainty, and of comely presence. Her face was pale ; she 
 had large, soft gray eyes, soft flaxen hair bound close to her 
 small well-shaped head, wore strong, laced, thick-soled 
 shoes, and generally carried a rather capacious reticule, in 
 which there were tracts, sewing implements, a packet of 
 sweets known as bull-eyes, and a small leathern purse. She 
 was born at Caister, but on the death of her mother had 
 gone to live in Hartley's Row, where she rented the two upper 
 rooms in a tradesman's house, and became the attached 
 neighbor of Miss Mumford, and deeply interested in the 
 work and welfare of David Keith. 
 
 Mildred Hope was seventeen when she felt the philan- 
 thropic impulse which absorbed her young life ; she was 
 only twenty-five when the reader makes her acquaintance ; 
 yet she had done much to reform the cruel discipline of the 
 local prisons, and had earned for herself more than a local 
 celebrity. 
 
 Miss Mumford never tired of talking with Mildred, and 
 David often sat and listened to her, but, for his ambition, 
 her views of life were too restricted in their scope and pur- 
 pose. She had found her mission, as many another priest- 
 ess and apostle of charity had before and since, in a casual 
 visit to a church with open doors that invited her to enter 
 in. She was walking from Caister to Yarmouth on a sum- 
 mer day in her eighteenth year, and went into the House of 
 God. The preacher took his text from the Corinthians, and 
 the words were, " We persuade men."
 
 MILDRED HOPE. 213 
 
 She was deeply impressed with the homily. It went 
 straight to her soul, she said, in one of her talks with Miss 
 Mumford ; she felt as if God spoke to her and warned her 
 of the slavery of sin in which she had hitherto been living ; 
 and from that moment she began to feel that she had a mis- 
 sion, that Christ inspired her to do the duty that was nearest. 
 She began to visit the aged and the. sick, the fatherless and 
 widows ; she obtained permission to go into the workhouse 
 and read to the poor. On Sundays she taught in Sunday 
 schools. 
 
 For a time opposing denominations declined her services ; 
 but she did so much good, her life was in itself such a 
 gracious lesson of piety and benevolence, that she found her 
 way wherever she would. 
 
 There was no dogma in Mildred's teaching. She 
 preached Christ, not in pulpits, but at firesides, in gar- 
 rets, in pauper wards, and at last in the miserable and 
 ill-kept jail. The old toll house prison was in those 
 days one of the worst probably of the houses of pun- 
 ishment and detention that any prison reformer could 
 have visited. It had no chaplain, no schoolmaster. 
 There was no divine service of any kind on Sundays. 
 The only relief which the prisoners had from their mis- 
 erable condition lay in the fact that they herded together, 
 and visitors were admitted to them with little or no restric- 
 tion. Possibly this was one of the worst features, how- 
 ever, of the general lack of discipline. Without it, 
 however, the place might have developed into a lunatic 
 asylum. 
 
 The Russians of to-day know what solitary confinement 
 will do ; and in their banding of prisoners together they still 
 maintain the system, or want of it, which disgraced our own 
 houses of detention at the time when Mildred Hope took 
 upon herself the onerous duties of prison visitor at Yar- 
 mouth. The cells were below ground, dark and unventi-
 
 214 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 lated, over-poweringly hot in summer, chilly and damp in 
 winter. 
 
 Many a time before Mildred had summoned up courage 
 enough to ask for admission, she had longed to go in and 
 read to such prisoners as might listen to her, in the intervals 
 of their gaming and drinking and cursing and swearing. 
 At last she was admitted to see a poor woman who was 
 incarcerated for cruelty to a child. The woman had given 
 way to a passionate rather than cruel nature, and received 
 the unexpected ministrations of Mildred with bitter but 
 grateful tears. The visitor read to her, as she informed 
 Miss Mumford, " the twenty-third chapter of St. Luke, the 
 story of the malefactor, who albeit suffering from man's 
 judgment, and that justly, found mercy from the Savior." 
 Encouraged by this first visit she went again and again, 
 and after rebuffs and difficulties of many kinds she became 
 a regular visitor at the prison, and obtained a wonderful 
 influence over the prisoners. Something like an improved 
 discipline grew up with the better conduct of the delin- 
 quents ; and after two or three years of persistent work 
 Mildred, perceiving that idleness in the prison, as well as 
 out of it, was a fruitful source of vice, devised plans of 
 employment for both men and women. A townsman gave 
 her a sovereign toward her prison charities, and with this, 
 and a contribution from her own scant purse, she bought 
 materials for work, taught the women to sew, helped the 
 men in the same direction, and in time took in materials and 
 brought them out manufactured articles, which she sold for 
 the benefit of the prisoners, many of whom in this way on 
 being discharged found themselves in possession of little 
 sums of money to start life with, and what was more, the 
 means of earning a livelihood. A fund was founded to 
 help the little prison visitor, but- it fell far short of her 
 desires, and she longed to enlarge her field of operations. 
 She often parted with her last shilling, and pinched herself
 
 MILDRED HOPE. 215 
 
 for food that she might help a poorer sister, or send some 
 comfort to some sick man who was unable to help him- 
 self. 
 
 The tracts which Mildred distributed were not of the 
 usual pattern. She wrote them herself. A kindly disposed 
 printer gave her credit, so that she need not check her 
 work for the immediate want of funds. They were very 
 short homilies, friendly words of advice, contained no 
 threats of hell, made no difficulties in the way of repentance 
 and forgiveness. 
 
 It was from these humble, kindly, generous leaflets, 
 gospels of good conduct and honest lives, gospels of true 
 hearts and cleanly living, gospels of rewards not only in 
 heaven, but on earth it was from these leaflets that she 
 taught many of her ragged, dissolute, wretched pupils to 
 read ; and to many a poor creature they were Notes on the 
 Bank of Prosperity and Happiness, these simple pages, 
 issued by the sympathetic Yarmouth printer. 
 
 " I was often penniless, fireless, supperless," she told Miss 
 Mumford, " but I knew that God had called me into the 
 Vineyard, saying, whatever is right I will give you. I felt 
 that God was my master, that I was his servant, and he 
 would not forsake me. I knew also that it sometimes seems 
 good in his sight to try the faith and patience of his 
 servants by bestowing upon them very limited means of 
 support as in the case of Naomi and Ruth, of the widow 
 of Zarephath and Elijah and my mind in the contempla- 
 tion of such trials seemed exalted by more than human 
 energy ; for I had counted the cost and my mind was made 
 up. If while imparting truth to others, and helping those 
 who groaned in poverty and sin, I became exposed to 
 temporal want, the privation, so momentary to an individual, 
 would not admit of comparison with following the Lord 
 and thus administering to others. Besides, I had fifty 
 pounds a year think of it ! And I could nearly make
 
 216 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 another by embroidery and teaching. I was rich, I had 
 enough for food and clothes, what else does anyone want ? 
 And I could give the remainder to those who needed it, 
 women in distress and tribulation, starving children, men 
 dying of prison pestilence and the famine that comes of 
 drink and crime, and no knowledge of the Savior.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 DAVID KEITH AT HOME IN HARTLEY'S ROW. 
 
 SINCE she had come to live in Hartley's Row, Mildred's 
 relaxation was in her neighborly visits to Miss Mumford's 
 house in the corner, a model home, clean as a pink, with 
 relics of the sea and a little library of books, some of which 
 Mildred thought a trifle worldly, but with all her religious 
 faith and conduct, she had a liberal mind and found relax- 
 ation in the best literature of the time. 
 
 She often went home to her own two little rooms with 
 David's bright, cheerful face in her mind and his adven- 
 turous words in her memory. David talked to her with a 
 sense of confidence and without restraint, and he told her 
 many stories of the great world as he had read them in his 
 miscellaneous books that interested her, and seemed to give 
 her rest. She would often, when saying good-night, 
 remark that David had done her good, rested her mind, 
 giving it a pleasant change in taking it from thoughts of 
 the sorrowful scenes that might await her on the morrow. 
 
 David liked Mildred very much. There was something 
 soothing, he would say, in the prison visitor's manner, her 
 voice was soft and sweet, and she had eyes that got over 
 a fellow, so to speak. He did not wonder at the influence 
 she possessed at the old toll house and among the poor, 
 not to mention the fishermen, who actually went to her to 
 say a prayer for them before putting out in stormy weather, 
 or when the signs of the harvest of the sea were dubious. 
 
 " Do you know," said David one day, " that the prison 
 visitor is really pretty ? " 
 
 " She's comforting," was Miss Mumford's reply.
 
 2l8 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " I say she's pretty, Sally, dear. I saw her trudging 
 away on the road from Caister. She did not see me. I 
 walked behind her ever so far. She pounded along. Do 
 you know she has big heavy shoes ? At least they looked 
 big on her small feet. They were laced up like mine, and 
 she had blue worsted stockings ; wears her petticoats short 
 you know, so that she can get along. She stopped in the 
 road to take out her packet of bull's-eyes and give some to 
 a little boy and his sister ; and just then I came up, and 
 said, ' Please, Miss Mildred, may I not have one ? ' I said 
 it in an assumed voice, you know, and when she turned 
 round to see who it was, why she fairly blushed, and looked 
 uncommonly pretty." 
 
 " Really," said Miss Mumford. 
 
 " Yes, really ! You know how pale she is as a rule ; they 
 say that's with spending so much time in the bad air of 
 the toll house prison I wish she wouldn't. Well, I tell 
 you, she blushed ; her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were 
 bright as " 
 
 " Elmira Webb's ! " said Miss Mumford a trifle slyly. 
 
 "Oh, well, altogether different, you know. Of course, 
 Mira's eyes are the most beautiful in the world. Besides, 
 the prison visitor's are gray, and Mira's are dark. What 
 made you say that, Sally ?" 
 
 David broke off in the midst of his account of meeting 
 Mildred, feeling that Sally meant something more than 
 appeared in her question. 
 
 "Oh, nothing that I know of, David," said his foster- 
 mother. 
 
 " I believe you don't like Mira," he said. 
 
 "Not as well as Mildred," said Sally. 
 
 "Mildred ! Why that's a different matter altogether. I 
 like Mildred, of course, everybody does; but altogether in 
 a different way from Mira Webb." 
 
 " Yes, of course," said Sally, " but what did Mildred say ? "
 
 DA VID KEITH A T HOME IN HARTLE Y'S ROW. 219 
 
 " Oh, she said nothing for a minute, but just gave me a 
 bull's-eye and blushed." 
 
 "Are you sure she blushed?" asked Sally, more for the 
 sake of saying something than with any special intention 
 in her question, " was it not the warmth of her walk ? " 
 
 " I was going to tell you, Sally, dear, after she had 
 blushed and I thought for the first time in my life how 
 pretty she was, she began to tell me about Mira ; she had 
 been giving Mira a lesson on the spinet, and she said Mira 
 would one day be able to play and sing quite well, though 
 she confessed it was not easy to get nice songs, and, of 
 course, that Mira did not care much for hymns. ' Why, I 
 should think not,' I said, 'not for general use, you know. 
 I should not want to go to Webb's to hear Mira sing 
 hymns.' " 
 
 " I don't know," said Sally, " Mildred Hope sings hymns 
 till she makes me cry, they are so lovely." 
 
 " But I don't want to cry why, here is the prison vis- 
 itor," he sa'id, as Mildred lifted the latch, and in a sweet, 
 small voice asked : " May I come in ? " 
 
 " Why, of course," said David, flinging the door wide 
 open. 
 
 " Oh, Master David, it is you ; you are home early." 
 
 " Yes," said David, "I haven't much time now before I 
 sail, and I want to spend as much of it with dear Mother 
 Sally and Mira, as I can possibly afford." 
 
 " Of course you do," said Mildred, as she patted the 
 back of Sally's brown hand, which was extended to her by 
 way of welcome. " I met Miss Webb this afternoon ; she 
 was shopping for Sunday, she said, and asked me to accept 
 a pound of tea for some of my poor women." 
 
 " How good of her," said David, " but she has a kind 
 heart. Zaccheus says the world don't contain a kinder, 
 though he allowed the prison visitor was a good little 
 'mawther, and true as compass, mek no doubt." "
 
 220 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " Ah, I only wish I was worthy of all the kind things 
 people are good enough to say to me," replied Mildred, 
 taking a seat by the window, undoing her reticule, and 
 taking out a piece of unfinished embroidery. 
 
 " Now, my dear neighbor," said Sally, " that's just a bit 
 like what they calls pride as apes humility, for sure." 
 
 " Is it ? " said Mildred, "then I won't say it again. What 
 I mean, Master David, is that I would like to do a thousand 
 times more than I do, to have more strength, more ability, 
 and more money to take in, oh, such a field of duty ! But 
 one must be content." 
 
 " You are quite ambitious in your way," said David, " I 
 am, too ; we all are, you know." 
 
 " And what is your particular ambition, Master David ? " 
 Mildred asked. 
 
 " Just at this moment my ambition is to taste the fish 
 Miss Mumford has for tea, and the cakes to follow," said 
 David, laughing, " and, if you will excuse me, I will wash 
 my hands and change my jacket." 
 
 " You will stay to tea ? " remarked Sally, interrogatively. 
 
 " Yes, dear, that is what I came for, besides the pleasure 
 of seeing you," said Mildred, smiling. 
 
 " Ah, my dear lass, that's what I like in you it is making 
 yerself at home and saying what you mean. I'll be sore 
 put to it when David's gone, but it'll be a comfort to have 
 you come in." 
 
 " When does he go ? " Mildred asked, plying her needle 
 as Sally went in and out from parlor to kitchen, assisting 
 her single domestic to dish up the dinner-tea that was an 
 institution of the Row. 
 
 " Why, at the end of the month ; sails from Bristol to Hali- 
 fax, where he is to meet the London trustee, who sailed this 
 week, and who will go with him to St. John's. Eh, dear, 
 I can't tell you how badly I feel at thought of parting with 
 him ; and I blame myself that I don't go with him, which,
 
 DA VID KEITH A T HOME IN HAR TLE Y' S ROW. 221 
 
 however, he won't hear of ; says it would make him look silly, 
 and as if he had to be tied to my apron strings, and the 
 like ; and now that he's engaged to Elmira Webb, and talks 
 of marriage, he has come to be masterful ; well, of course, 
 that's to be expected of a high-spirited lad who's growing 
 into manhood." 
 
 " He will make Elmira Webb a very good husband, for- 
 bearing and affectionate," said Mildred. 
 
 " That he will ; but she isna worthy of him good looks ! 
 Yes, that may be, but too fond of fall-alls, and calculated to 
 make a proud lad jealous." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " 
 
 " I am sure so," said Sally, " but what are you to do when 
 a lad's heart is engaged, and when you love him that well 
 you don't like to give him a minute's pain ? but eh, my dear, 
 it will be a sad day, I fear me, for David Keith when he 
 teks Elmira Webb for better or worse." 
 
 It was a cozy room, with an outlook along the court- like 
 yard of the upper end of Hartley's Row, the door opening 
 flush upon the white pavements, the kitchen having a red 
 bricked yard at the back ; all the windows full of flowers in 
 red-raddled pots ; flags and rushes in the parlor fireplace ; 
 tall brass candlesticks and colored ornaments on the tall 
 mantelshelf ; an old flint gun, a pair of pistols and a pike 
 fixed upon brackets on the clean and whitewashed wall ; 
 here and there an engraving in a black frame ; a case or 
 two of stuffed birds ; and a case or two of fish ; in one 
 corner a glazed bookcase ; in the middle of the room a 
 round table with a polished top, now covered with gold 
 and white china cups and saucers, and white plates ; a tall 
 copper urn uttering a kind of purring sound, and emitting 
 little puffs of steam. On one side of the room a large soft 
 well-stuffed sofa ; on the other a small sideboard flanked 
 with high-backed old oak chairs. 
 
 " You must always have been a good housekeeper," said
 
 222 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Mildred, as Sally placed upon the table a dish of deliciously 
 fried mackerel flanked with bunches of fennel, and accom- 
 panied by a sauce that seemed to address an invitation to 
 the board. 
 
 " Ready, David," said Sally, opening the staircase door 
 and calling to David, who came hurrying down in a loose 
 serge jacket and trousers, with a white handkerchief tied 
 in a sailor's knot about his neck, and looking the beau 
 ideal of a strong and happy young Englishman. 
 
 " Now, Miss Hope," he said, offering her a chair and 
 taking one himself opposite to Sally, " do you like fennel 
 sauce ? That's right, I knew there would be fennel sauce, 
 I smelt it the moment I came in. What a fine thing it is to 
 be hungry, eh ? " 
 
 " When you have no difficulty in getting the food you 
 want," said Mildred, taking from David a plate of fish, while 
 Sally poured out the tea. 
 
 " Yes, of course," said David, " it makes one feel selfish 
 to think that there are people who can't get bread let alone 
 mackerel, fennel sauce, and hot cakes to follow and such 
 cakes ! I wish everybody could have all they want ; but as 
 that is impossible we must be forgiven for taking what the 
 Lord provides as you would say, Miss Hope." 
 
 David was in great spirits. He ate his food with a relish, 
 praised it, pressed more upon Mildred, complained that 
 Miss Mumford was not enjoying her tea, and when the 
 repast was over announced that he was off to Caister ; he 
 not only wanted to see Mira, but he looked to have a talk 
 with Zaccheus about the Bristol ship in which he was to 
 sail to Halifax and St. John's. 
 
 " David takes after both his father and his mother," said 
 Sally, when the boy had started off on his walk to Caister, 
 "but he's got his father's hankering after adventure; it 
 was that as induced his grandfather Plympton to have him 
 educated for the law, thinking as it would keep him to his
 
 DA FID KEITH A T HOME IN HAR TLE Y'S RO W. 223 
 
 moorings ; but he forgot as the sea makes it natural for a 
 lad to desire to roam. It was marryin' as kept his father at 
 home and would ha' done, but for the persecution that Heart's 
 Delight was subject to, and which didn't stop short there 
 but followed on to Heart's Content ; eh, it's long ago, but 
 it seems like yesterday ! David was an infant in arms ; I 
 hear as there's great changes since, that settlers may till the 
 ground and build of brick, as some has done, where brick's 
 to be gotten ; it's a pity life's so short a span ; it's hard when 
 folks that's borne heat and sweat of it has to mek room for 
 them as comes in for the fruits of their labor and suffering." 
 
 Miss Mumford went on talking to herself and Mildred, 
 while she and the servant were putting the tea-things away 
 and making the room tidy. Mildred sat on the little sofa, 
 at work upon her embroidery, but she gave full attention 
 to Sally's thoughts and reminiscences. 
 
 " I wish I could see fair prospects for David," said Sally, 
 closing the kitchen door on the domestic, folding up her 
 apron, and placing it in a little press beneath the stairway, 
 " ' hansum is as 'ansum does' they say in Lincolnshire, and 
 I wish I could feel a real bit of honest faith in Miss Elmira 
 Webb." 
 
 " Her father loves her to blindness of every fault," said 
 Mildred ; " such a girl without the guiding love of a mother 
 is at a great disadvantage in a sinful world, and is much to 
 be pitied." 
 
 " It isna a matter of religion as I'm thinkin' on," said 
 Sally. " I've knowed good, honest folk who might be ca'd 
 anything but religious ; why, our David is hard to get to 
 chapel once a Sunday ; maybe that's on account of his 
 father and mother being Catholics, though his father was 
 nothing when first he came to Heart's Delight ; first Mass 
 he went to was for her sake ; I do believe he'd been a 
 Mahomedun or a Hottentot if she'd ha' been of that way of 
 thinkin', he loved her to that desperation."
 
 224 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. . 
 
 " I don't hold with an outward neglect of religion, even 
 if there is a natural inward and spiritual grace," said Mildred, 
 "I think, if only for example's sake, the Lord's day should 
 be observed ; not that souls may not be saved that never 
 prayed in church or chapel ; whatever our creed, we are 
 all worshiping God, and I don't think he will take par- 
 ticular note of the manner of the worship- if our conduct 
 goes hand in hand with our religious professions." 
 
 " There be some," Sally replied, " who count to be saved 
 by faith ; but I believe in deeds, Mildred, and I am sure 
 you do." 
 
 " Faith and deeds," Mildred replied, " always remember- 
 ing the rightful and diligent use of the talents with which 
 the Master entrusts his servants." 
 
 " Do you ever think of marrying ? " Sally asked, sud- 
 denly arresting Mildred's needle in the very heart of a 
 silken rose. 
 
 " It is a strange question," Mildred replied, with the 
 slightest tinge of color in her pale cheeks ; and so it was, 
 having regard to the nun-like appearance of the girl. It 
 has been already noted that she dressed in a very simple 
 fashion, suggesting the Quaker garb ; it was also convent- 
 like in its simplicity. There was that calm resignation in 
 the expression of the girl's face that is mostly seen in the 
 countenance of devout sisters who have given their lives to 
 Holy Church, and yet it was an inviting calmness, not in 
 the least austere. The deep, dark eyes were full of a sym- 
 pathetic light, the well-formed mouth generous in its out- 
 line, the lips red, and the most fashionable beauty might 
 have envied Mildred's white and regular teeth. Her voice 
 was sweet and musical, and for poor people had a kind of 
 fascination that belongs to a well-played reed instrument. 
 When she prayed, as she did now and then at some public 
 assembly, such as the occasional congregation of sailors on 
 a Sunday evening, on the beach before the fishing, her soul
 
 DA VID KEITH A T HOME IN HARTLE Y'S ROW. 22$ 
 
 was in her words. Her supplications rose and fell with the 
 cadence of a lovely chant ; yet in her relationship with the 
 people and with her friends she had, as we have seen, none 
 of the sanctity of manner or conversation that carried even 
 an unconscious rebuke to the most sinful. She was on 
 frank and familiar terms with all the coast, and the respect 
 she received on all hands was not in any way lessened by 
 her free and happy manner. 
 
 Sally Mumford was in a peculiar mood. Her remarks 
 made Mildred watchful and somewhat on her guard. 
 
 " I never married because I had a mission. I was mar- 
 ried to my duty. David was my mission, God bless him as 
 he blessed his saintly mother. But why shouldn't you 
 marry, Mildred ? " 
 
 " I am also married to my duty," said Mildred, looking 
 up at Miss Mumford with a questioning, wistful expression 
 in her eyes. 
 
 " But marriage need not hinder your work. Oh, to see 
 you and David come together ! " 
 
 Mildred felt her heart almost stop beating as she bent 
 her head over her embroidery, not daring to look up. 
 
 " David is fond of you ; he'll get tired of yonder Caister 
 gel ! " 
 
 "Why are you saying these things?" Mildred asked, her 
 lips slightly parted as she looked into Sally's calm face. 
 
 " Because my heart prompts me," said Sally. 
 
 " I wonder why your heart dictates such thoughts ? " 
 
 " Because it loves you, Mildred, and because it beats 
 night and day for David Keith, its one hope and love. Eh, 
 dear, I don't know what's come over me this night seems 
 as if I feared some harm's going to happen David, and 
 seems as if you could save him ! " 
 
 " Let us pray for him, Sally dear, and ask God and the 
 Savior for guidance," replied Mildred, as she rose and 
 put her arms around the trim old spinster.
 
 226 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 They knelt together by the chair in which Sally had been 
 sitting, knelt hand in hand, and each offered up a silent 
 / prayer which was more the outcome of a sudden emotion 
 than an act of worship or petition. Their hearts were full 
 to overflowing with a tender solicitude that naturally found 
 vent in prayer. The impulse and the motive were inspired 
 by thoughts of David Keith's imminent voyage across the 
 Atlantic.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 " THE MAD ENGLISHMAN OF VENICE." 
 
 Two ruins. The first almost human in its time-worn 
 aspect, its blind windows, its broken columns. The second 
 entirely human, the living wreck of a man. The first 
 a decayed palace with a brave and brilliant history. The 
 second a man, battered by cruel blows of fate, aged before 
 his time, but with the windows of his soul still undimmed, 
 except for here and there a film that had come from the 
 shedding of many tears. 
 
 The marble ruin was not entirely desolate. It had a cus- 
 todian, one who had known it when its echoes resounded to 
 the laugh and shout of triumph and festival. The human 
 ruin was alone, solitary in the great world. In its pinched 
 and wounded heart lay the everlasting difference between 
 the dead ruin and the living ; it was the well-spring of hope 
 that keeps green some sunny spot in the dreariest past and 
 freshens the most arid forecasts of the future. 
 
 At the date of this romance, Yriarte, the historian, will 
 tell you that visitors to Venice must have remarked in pass- 
 ing down the Grand Canal an ancient building with itsppen 
 loggia on the first story, ornamented with marble columns, 
 having Byzantine capitals. The antique facade, set with 
 slabs of Greek marble and encrusted with circular escut- 
 cheons, was falling into ruin, its interstices choked with 
 earth and moss. Here and there trailing vines and varied 
 creepers had taken root in floor, and crevice, giving that 
 touch of leaf and flower that always arrests the attention 
 wherever it is observed among the halls and palaces of this 
 city in the sea. The Turkish custodian still lived there and
 
 228 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 might be seen leaning against the last arch of the loggia, 
 a type of Eastern immobility, indifferent to the gondolas 
 passing and repassing under his eyes, looking, but seeing 
 nothing. " A poet who did not know that placidity of the 
 Oriental, which looks like dreaming and yet is so dreamless, 
 might have imagined that he read a look of wistfulness in 
 this man's eyes, and that the forlorn warder was thinking of 
 the ancient glories of Venice." 
 
 In these present days, if you would see with the eyes of the 
 historian and follow the adventures of the hero of Heart's 
 Delight, you must look back through the spick and span 
 facings of the palace that have blotted out the resting place 
 of the prisoner of Tafilet. There are Venetians still living 
 who knew the old palace and its picturesque custodian. 
 The stones are fresh that have been piled on the ancient 
 foundations, and the present writer has moored his gondola 
 by the steps on the Grand Canal, and talked with an old 
 Venetian who had known the stranger whom they called 
 "the mad Englishman." 
 
 This building was the old Fondaco dei Turchi, prede- 
 cessor of the new palace, built in the thirteenth century. 
 The present building is supposed to be a reproduction of 
 the blind old house which had for its custodian the dreamy 
 Oriental. Three hundred years after the splendid enter- 
 tainments that the lords of Briare gave there, the palace 
 became the residence of the Turkish merchants and dealers, 
 and it was in its last days of decreptitude and picturesque 
 misery when Alan Keith begged for shelter at the hands of 
 the meditative Turk. 
 
 They were well met these three the blinking Oriental in 
 the shadow of the crumbling palace and the half-demented 
 seafarer who had been landed by a Spanish ship to take his 
 chances of life and death in Venice. There was something 
 almost inarticulate in the woes of the three. The palace 
 spoke to the human fancy in whispers of parasite leaves
 
 " THE MAD ENGLISHMAN OF VENICE." 229 
 
 that held many of the marble stones together. The cus- 
 todian addressed the Englishman, but to Alan it was in the 
 embarrassing tongue of France. Alan replied in a gutteral 
 English that was full of recollections of the Scottish ver- 
 nacular, with now and then a smattering of French words 
 and Spanish, such French, however, as might have been 
 English to the Turk, who could only guess at the stranger's 
 meaning. There was, however, between the two human 
 ruins a sympathetic language which they could not mistake. 
 They both belonged to the miserable. They had both seen 
 strange adventures ; they were both old ; they were both 
 poor. Poverty knows its fellow. The custodian of the 
 decaying palace clung to the old walls for love, and not for 
 wages. Alan had about him the few gold and silver coins 
 that some philanthropic Spaniard had given him when 
 obtaining his release from the Moorish dungeon. Else- 
 where he had treasure in abundance, away on the silent 
 shores of the secret waterways of Wilderness Creek ; 
 always supposing that the cemetery had remained undis- 
 turbed except by wind and weather. 
 
 During all the days of his imprisonment Alan had never 
 forgotten any circumstance connected with his life at Heart's 
 Delight. Dropped down off Labrador blindfolded he felt 
 that he could steer into the silent harbor whence the cun- 
 ning vengeance of Lester Bentz had driven him and his 
 comrades to fall victims to the English ship of war. When 
 some unknown power had come to the aid of the prisoners 
 at Tafilet he had selected to be put ashore at Venice, feel- 
 ing that of all cities in the world he might there possibly 
 still have a friend. He remembered the young priest's talk 
 of Venice as his home, of the probability of his removal 
 thither, and that he had a mother living in Florence. 
 
 More than twenty years had gone by since then, and 
 Father Lavello might be dead. He might, however, have 
 left behind him some friend upon whom he could count for
 
 230 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 advice and help. Twenty years was long in the memory of 
 friendship, but short in the memory of a foe ; and Alan 
 knew not to what extent his name might be branded with 
 the penalties of treason and crime, with piracy and murder, 
 in the annals of British justice. Could he have known that 
 he was dead in the official report of the admiral o'f the St. 
 George dead with all his comrades, d.ead and buried with 
 his pirate ship beneath the deep and stormy waves that 
 roll around Bahamas coral reefs he might have selected 
 to be put on board an English ship ; but he was wary, and 
 his mind turned to Venice and Father Lavello. He had 
 for the time being taken upon himself a new name by way 
 of wise precaution, resolving to feel his way to the abiding 
 place of Father Lavello, and know something of his record, 
 and the character he bore with his people before entrusting 
 to him the secret of his existence and his desires. His 
 long imprisonment had made him secretive and mistrustful ; 
 dulled his perceptive qualities ; given his eye a trick of 
 wandering, and to his speech a certain hesitancy that to the 
 common mind marked him down as imbecile. And so once 
 more he was dubbed the" mad Englishmen," and later he 
 was assigned not only a name but a local habitation ; 
 he was called " The Mad Englishman of Venice." 
 
 But Alan was far from mad. Dreamy ? Yes, far more 
 so than the dreamy-looking custodian of the time-worn 
 palace ; dreamy, with lucid intervals of energy and passion ; 
 dreamy, with poetic memories of -a saintly wife and child ; 
 dreamy, with sounds of the sea in his ears and mirthful 
 voices ; dreamy, with the light of the crackling fire of a 
 winter's hearth in his memory, and pictures of domestic 
 peace, of neighbors sitting in the wintry glow of peat and 
 wood. He was a dreamer gazing back on sunny seas and 
 happy fisherfolk ; a dreamer who falls from paradise to 
 hell, from happiness and peace and domestic love and 
 home to tyranny and wrong ; to battle, murder, and tern-
 
 " THE MAD ENGLISHMAN OF VENICE." 231 
 
 pestuous fights at sea ; from lying by the side of a wife 
 beloved beyond all women to lying prone by her grave, 
 victims both of them of a lawless law and a lawless magis- 
 tracy. Yes, he was a dreamer indeed, this wanderer who 
 paused as if from sheer sympathy by the rough steps of 
 the decaying palace with its long-robed and be-fezzed 
 custodian. 
 
 Surely the ruined house was the place where such a bony, 
 withered, hawk-eyed mariner as Alan Keith shbuld rest ; 
 this silent Turk was the sentinel of the silent palaces and 
 mysterious boats who should make him welcome. And so 
 he addressed himself to the Turk, and the Turk came out 
 of his reverie to look with pitying eyes upon the stranger. 
 Such a presentation of picturesque age were these three, 
 that one's mind rests upon it with awe and wonder. The 
 two strange men ; the one dead palace. 
 
 It was an instinctive act of hospitality that led the Turk to 
 take the wanderer in. An humble boatman had rowed him 
 from the quay in his sandola, and here had left him with the 
 Turk, who, opposite in creed, in thought, in every way, still 
 found reason for comradeship with his grim petitioner. 
 They were both alone, one with his memories, the other a 
 stranger in a strange land. The custodian, however, had 
 acquaintances. He had lived long enough in Venice to 
 adopt some of her habits and to be on speaking terms with 
 certain frequenters of a caff in a shady corner of the steps 
 that led upward over the Rialto bridge. Here he would 
 once or twice a week take his cup of coffee, and smoke his 
 chibouk and listen to the conversation of other guests while 
 they sipped their diluted anisette, or drank their black coffee, 
 denouncing with bated breath or blatent defiance, as the 
 case might be, their Austrian masters. The blond mistress 
 of the landlord, with her lightly shod feet, showing shapely 
 ankles in white stockings, would pay special attention to the 
 silent Turk, and the Venetians would often talk at him of the
 
 232 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 time when Venice was great and free, and the Fonda dei 
 Grechi was one of the glories of the Grand Canal. Other- 
 wise the custodian had neither kith nor kin nor friends in 
 Venice. He had permitted, however, the friendly encroach- 
 ment of a certain humble gondolier and his wife to find a 
 lodging in a wing of the palace overlooking a back canal, in 
 return for which they gave him such domestic services as he 
 required, did his marketing, cooked his food, and in winter 
 made desperate, if unavailing, efforts to keep his salon 
 warm. Atilio was the gondolier and Teresa was his wife, 
 and they could both speak a little English, which they had 
 picked up in the service of a great merchant, who had 
 traded round the world, and had once taken them to the 
 great port of London. But Atilio had never heard such 
 strange English as the grim stranger spoke, and Teresa had 
 never seen so evidently mad a lodger as he whom his excel- 
 lency, the signori, had thought well to shelter and protect. 
 In such a multifarious community as that of Venice in 
 those days, with its strange sails from Eastern ports and 
 AVest, with its curious fisherfolk from the islands of the 
 lagoons ; its mysterious Jews of the ghetto in their pictur- 
 esque gaberdines ; its Austrian officials and sentinels, and 
 its grave old citizens, it might have been thought that Alan 
 Keith would have escaped notice ; but he seemed to 
 impress mysteriously the most ordinary person ; his gaunt 
 figure towering above the crowd, the long, patched, and 
 foreign coat he wore reaching from his neck to his buckled 
 shoes, and decorated in some queer barbaric fashion ; his 
 long legs in faded velvet trunks and silken hose ; his bony 
 hands and pallid face, his sunken eyes that shone like 
 meteors from beneath his shaggy eyebrows : his long, thin 
 gray hair, and his restless manner ; they knew not what to 
 make of him, the simple gondolier and his wife, and the 
 keeper of the caft, whither the silent Turk had taken him, 
 was as much at a loss ; and in a very short time he came to
 
 " THE MAD ENGLISHMAN OF VENICE." 233 
 
 be spoken of as "the mad Englishman." Once unwittingly 
 he had offended a number of men and boys on the quay by 
 some remark which he thought was a complimentary 
 expression in choice Italian, and which was nothing like it. 
 They made for him to testify their anger in blows, but the 
 gaunt stranger scattered them like leaves before a mighty 
 wind. Mischief would have been done had not an En- 
 glish captain, whose ship was lying in port awaiting her 
 sailing papers, interposed and explained what Alan Keith 
 had intended to say, whereupon the crowd burst forth into 
 laughter, and insisted on shaking hands with the poor mad 
 fellow ; for now they knew he must be mad to call them 
 villains and beasts of burden when he meant to do them 
 honor. 
 
 And so Alan wandered about the city, which was to him 
 a dream within a dream, and he a ghost from some other 
 world. He was happy, quite happy, for a long, long time, 
 free to come and go, with shelter for his head and food for 
 his stomach. No jailer held him by the heels. Once in 
 a way, the Austrian challenge of " Halt ! Wer da ?" broke 
 in upon his dreams, but the sentinel would smile good 
 naturedly as the mad Englishman retired with a bow of 
 submission and a " Pardon, messieur," spoken with a broad 
 Scotch accent. Alan, indeed, began to think he had been 
 translated to Paradise, and for a time what he considered 
 to be the ambition of his latter days, faded out in the free 
 air of Italy ; for it was free to him, the very essence of the 
 supremest liberty, whatever it might be to the Italians, 
 whose aspirations he did not understand. He found that 
 the few gold and silver pieces which his Spanish deliverer 
 had deposited with the suit of clothes with which he had 
 been endowed, and the bundle of curious linen that had 
 been placed for him on board the ship, went a long way in 
 the estimation of the unspeakable Turk, and that an odd 
 coin now and then made Atilio and Teresa both willing
 
 234 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 servants, however mad he might seem to them a madness 
 that was not vicious, be it said, but a madness that was 
 unmistakable especially when, as had happened more 
 than once, Alan had tossed one of his strange coins upon 
 the caf counter to treat some lasgnone to a cup of wine, or 
 .had himself indulged in an extra glass of brandy with his 
 coffee ; for then his eyes would fairly blaze, and he would 
 talk of fights on sea and land, of stormy waters and the 
 haunted lands of distant shores ; but even then, he spoke 
 with a kind of reserve that emphasized his madness. 
 
 There was neither latitude nor longitude in his incon- 
 sequential yarns ; but once in a cafe down by the quay, he 
 had been led into making overtures to an English captain 
 concerning a buried treasure. He had discovered a sudden 
 energy during a talk between the captain and his mate. 
 They had heard of a sunken Spanish galleon that of late 
 had shifted, and now showed her masts, and into whose 
 hold a Frenchman had dived and found it full of gold. 
 Thereupon Alan's dream of peace and happy days of free- 
 dom in an earthly paradise had gone back to reality, and he 
 felt how poor he was, yet how rich, that he might still have 
 a son alive to whom he owed a fatherly duty, and to whom 
 for the sweet sake of an angel mother in Heaven, he felt a 
 yearning affection. 
 
 " I ken of a treasure," he said, looking up from the seat 
 where he had been huddled smoking a wooden pipe with a 
 long reed stern, " and eh, man, if I'd a ship, and ane or twa 
 good han's, I'd mak the fortune of him who'd provide them ; 
 a nod's just as gude as a wenk to a blind horse." 
 
 The sailors looked with undisguised surprise at the 
 foreign looking withered old man who without invitation 
 joined in their conversation, and made a wild declaration 
 of secret wealth, not in French or German, not in Italian, 
 or Moorish, or Hebrew, but in English, with a Scotch 
 accent, and at Venice.
 
 " THE MAD ENGLISHMAN OF VENICE." 235 
 
 " Where d'ye hail from, master ? " asked the captain. 
 
 " Ah, ah," laughed Alan, " that's a vera easy question." 
 
 " I should say so," remarked the mate, pouring out a 
 fresh glass of Chianti for his chief. 
 
 " Ef I could jest mak a contract wi' ye givin' me com- 
 mand o' yer shep," said Alan, " within sixty days ye'd hae 
 no further cause to sail the seas." 
 
 "Very likely not," said the captain good-naturedly, "and 
 no ship to sail in maybe ; join us, friend, in a glass of wine 
 for the sake of bonnie Scotland ; that's where ye hail from, 
 I'm thinking." 
 
 "May be," said Alan, " we knaw where we hail frae, but 
 where are we gaein' ? That's the puzzle, eh ? " 
 
 Alan felt that he was being questioned ; and he was still 
 wary about committing himself ; for he had yet to learn on 
 what legal grounds he stood. He had reason to expect 
 Father Lavello in Venice. Idly as he had spent his time, 
 dreaming in the sun, reveling in his freedom, he had never- 
 theless busied himself jn inquiries about Father Lavello ; 
 and the gondolier had at last made out what he wanted. In 
 the first place Alan's method of pronouncing the Italian 
 name had been a barrier to inquiry, and in the next place, 
 Father Lavello had left Venice for Verona ; and Atillio had 
 succeeded in having conveyed thither a letter from Alan, to 
 which an answer had been received by word of mouth, 
 implying that Alan would very soon see the priest whom he 
 sought. This progress had only been achieved within a few 
 days of the incident on the quay ; and Alan felt that he 
 might be very near -the discovery of things of the last 
 importance to him, and he became all the more circumspect. 
 At the same time, he had of late brooded over a possible 
 means of visiting Newfoundland, more particularly the 
 scene of his buried fortunes, and the deep interest which the 
 two English officers were expressing in the sunken treasures 
 of a Spanish ship, unloosed his tongue ; but to no further
 
 236 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 purpose then to convince the strangers that he was a softy, 
 a dreamer of dreams, a harmless lunatic. 
 
 Nevertheless Alan surprised them with his knowledge of 
 navigation ; and in a little while they were both talking to 
 him with a rational consideration of certain propositions 
 that he discovered to them. He sat at their table with 
 a certain distinction of manner that gradually made them 
 even deferential. He allowed them to understand that he 
 knew they thought him half-witted ; but he made them feel 
 that there was method in his madness. He spoke of long 
 years of imprisonment, of shipwreck and slavery, of a thou- 
 sand reasons why he might well be mad ; and he also spoke 
 of human beings who had prayed to die and could not, men 
 who came out of every danger unscathed, who bore torture, 
 misery, the suffocating embrace of the sea, the anger of 
 breakers on rocky coasts, and who lived on and on ! He 
 held them with his natural eloquence ; and he drank their 
 wine with every now and then a repetition of their own 
 pledge of "Bonnie Scotland." 
 
 Time went on. The moon came out upon the lagoons, 
 and Alan started homeward full of strange fancies, burning 
 to take those sailormen into his confidence, half forgetting 
 David, his son, only remembering the treasure ; and as he 
 went swinging along, strengthened physically and mentally 
 by the generous Italian wine, he lapsed back into reverie 
 and wonder, into the oft-recurring sensation of being in 
 another world, in some halfway house to Heaven, some 
 earthly Paradise anchored in a summer sea. 
 
 He sat down by the steps of St. Mark's, and watched the 
 evening traffic on the Grand Canal ; stretched himself down 
 almost by the water, where other men were reclining. 
 None moved to give him place either in fear or friendship. 
 They knew he was mad, but he had harmed no one, and 
 Atilio spoke well of him. They knew the mad Englishman 
 had paid their city the compliment of calling it Paradise.
 
 " THE MAD ENGLISHMAN OF VENICE." 237 
 
 He lay unmolested, with his hands underneath his chin, 
 watching the gondolas with glow-worm lights in their bows. 
 One or two coasters were making for their anchorage by 
 the custom-house ; he traced the lines of the great church 
 of San Giorgio Maggiore against the moonlit sky; and he 
 was very happy in a negative kind of way, warm, contented, 
 the wine coursing pleasantly through^his veins. He might 
 have lain there all the livelong night until the sun took up 
 the story of the moon aad adorned Venice with all the 
 beauties of the morning had not Atilio laid his heavy hand 
 upon him and demanded his attention. 
 
 " Dorme ? " said Atilio. 
 
 Alan dreamed on. 
 
 " Awake, signori ! " said Atilio, " venite con me ! " 
 
 " Wherefore ? " asked the mad Englishman, taking up a 
 sitting position, and looking at Atilio reproachfully, as be- 
 ing awakened from a pleasant sleep. 
 
 Atilio was excited. His little English failed him when 
 he was deeply moved. He could only repeat his one word, 
 " awake," and point with a stumpy finger in the direction 
 of the ruined palace where they both had the privelege to 
 lodge. 
 
 " Home ? " asked Alan. 
 
 " Si, si, certamente," said the gondolier, " andiamo a casa, 
 come, awake, signori." 
 
 Alan gathered himself up and stood by Atilio, so gaunt 
 and yet so picturesque that one or two of the loungers 
 looked at him with an admiration inspired by their inborn 
 feeling for artistic effect. One of them smilingly asked 
 why the madman did not continue to rise until he topped 
 the campanile and could shake paws with the lion of St. 
 Mark. 
 
 Atilio laughed and lifted up his arms, and pointing to 
 the moon asked why not further ; yonder, where the 
 silent man would know him ; the man in the moon, with
 
 238 UNDER THE GKEA T SEAL. 
 
 whom the signori held long conversations on nights like 
 these. 
 
 "Poor devil," said a brother gondolier, "and yet he is 
 happy." 
 
 " Most happy, dreams he owns caskets of treasure, has 
 ships at sea laden with gold and precious stones ; wait, he 
 says, ' and I will bring my donations of diamonds, rubies, 
 and gold, for the domes of St. Marco.' " said Atilio, chatter- 
 ing away in Italian, complimented by the attention of his 
 audience. 
 
 " Well, that is good, he has a greatful heart," the other 
 replied, " and he adores our beautiful Venice ; it is suffi- 
 cient." 
 
 Alan, though now upon his feet, still gazed out across the 
 canal, and now and then looked up at the moon, sailing 
 along another vast waterway, as it seemed to him, in the 
 heavens ; but presently, as if he came out of his dream 
 again, he asked, "Wherefore, Atilio, wherefore?" 
 
 Atilio replied again, volubly, but with such a strange 
 mixture of English and Italian, that Alan could only ask 
 again why he sought him, and catching something of Atilio's 
 enthusiasm, put his question into his own vernacular, and 
 elaborated it without the slightest thought of Atilio : " What 
 in the deevil's name d'ye want desturbin' a man when he's 
 just taking his ease, and requires neither yer service nor yet 
 yer companie ? " 
 
 And as if he understood every word, the gondolier replied, 
 measuring his words carefully out: "// prete, ze curato, 
 Lavello." 
 
 " Lavello ! " said Alan, almost in a whisper, " Lavello ? " 
 
 " Lavello," repeated Atilio, " come, signori." 
 
 Atilio led the way across the piazza. Alan followed. 
 They knew the footpaths of Venice as well as they knew her 
 waterways. 
 
 " The companile and the pin," said one of the loungers,
 
 " THE MAD ENGLISHMAN OF VENICE." 239 
 
 who had thitherto been a silent looker-on, as he turned to 
 watch Atilio and the madmam disappear in the shadows 
 of St. Mark's, the companile striding out with long legs, 
 the pin almost running to keep up with it. 
 
 A burst of laughter greeted the humorous comparison, to 
 be succeeded by the silence of men who sleep and the ripple 
 of waters, that emphasize silence.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A DREAMER OF DREAMS. 
 
 To listen to Father Lavello, the robust cure" of Verona, 
 formerly the young enterprising priest of Heart's Delight, 
 was for many days the height of happiness to the wiry, 
 Quixote-looking Alan Keith. 
 
 He lived again. The past came back to him without its 
 passion or its pain. It was like a story told. He saw him- 
 self outside himself. He was a looker-on, deeply interested, 
 but only a looker-on. He loved that other Alan Keith for 
 loving Hannah, to whom his soul went back in worship and 
 incense. 
 
 Black clouds swept over his soul at thought of Bentz 
 and Ristack, but they passed as quickly as they came, the 
 sunshine predominated. 
 
 Father Lavello was eloquent in dwelling upon the mercy 
 of God, and the sympathy of the Holy Mother of God, for 
 Alan and the dear one who had gone before. He kept 
 Alan's thought's among the gentle places of the past, and 
 the boundless love of Alan for his wife filled so much of 
 his vision in looking back that it sweetened the bitterness 
 of his soul. His recollection of the early days of Heart's 
 Delight was now above all memories the most vivid aad 
 real. 
 
 Alan told the priest of the visits of Hannah to his 
 dungeon, and the cure turned the tender fancies to good 
 religious account. The mad Englishman soon became 
 known as a devout Catholic. The faithful deemed this to 
 be ample evidence of his perfect sanity. Even in those 
 days Venice had her scoffers, and the lean and withered
 
 A DREAMER OF DREAMS. 241 
 
 Englishman mortifying himself was, to them, somewhat 
 humorous in a grim kind of way ; for most of the Church's 
 devotees were smug and fat, and of contented dispositions ; 
 whereas the mad Englishmen was met at all hours in the 
 city wandering from church to church, from narrow foot- 
 way to narrow square ; while fishermen encountered him 
 at equally varied hours, plying the sandolo which some 
 good natured citizen had lent him, now with oar or paddle, 
 now skimming along under sail, a veritable Ancient Mariner, 
 with sparkling eyes and thin gray locks that fluttered in the 
 wind. 
 
 Father Lavello had been enabled to almost complete 
 Alan's story of the secret harbor of Labrador, the wreck 
 of the St. Dennis, the arrest of Plympton, his acquittal and 
 death, and the destiny of his son David and the woman Sally 
 Mumford, in whose charge the boy had been left. The 
 cure's advice kept Alan still in Venice. He had agents who 
 could follow up the clew to David's whereabouts, from where 
 they had left it some dozen or fifteen years previously. 
 
 He had long ago been convinced of Alan's death ; other 
 ties and responsibilities had diverted his attention from the 
 story of David, his son. Heart's Delight and all that 
 belonged to it had more or less faded away except as inci- 
 dental to his career. A cure in Verona, such ambition as 
 he had encouraged at Heart's Delight, with dreamy vistas 
 of new conquests for the Church, had died out. The 
 priest's mind had gradually taken up the color and temper 
 of his environment. He lived a quiet reflective life, 
 enjoyed his garden, drank his white wine and red, con- 
 fessed his flock, married them and buried them, visited 
 his clerical neighbors, went on voluntary pilgrimages to 
 monastic establishments where he was heartily welcome 
 with his genial face and his happy views of life ; and alto- 
 gether had become a calm, contented, well-to-do cure, 
 with his little house, his careful old housekeeper, who was
 
 242 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 an excellent cook, his library, and his uniformly good 
 health. 
 
 For a time he had been, however, greatly moved at the 
 meeting with Alan Keith. Like his old parishioner of 
 Heart's Delight, during their conversations he felt some of 
 the old passion of the colonial days, the inspiration of 
 adventure born of the Atlantic Sea. Once more he felt his 
 pulse hurry on with reminiscences of the stirring episode of 
 the Fisheries in summer, and winter stories by the Great 
 House fire, when the winds were raging without, making 
 snow drifts mountains high in the valleys, and wrapping the 
 shore as far as eye could see in a vast winding sheet. 
 
 Furthermore his sense of the romantic had been piqued 
 by Alan's honest story of the adventurers of Wilderness 
 Creek, though he had crossed himself many times during 
 Alan's narratives of the capture of the Anne of Dartmouth, 
 and the vengeance that had been wreaked upon the three 
 fishing admirals. 
 
 Alan had to undergo certain incidents of prayer and 
 penance before the cure could feel justified iu assuring 
 him of that forgiveness with which he was empowered to 
 console him in the name of St. Peter ; all the same, the 
 good priest found himself sympathizing with his penitent, 
 whose confessional exercises were rather secular than 
 religious, triumphant rather than humble and contrite. 
 Alan was, however, as wax in the hands of the cure, so far 
 as outward form and ceremony were concerned ; and once 
 more he thought Hannah came to him, and he dreamed the 
 old dreams over again, the dreams that had made life and 
 his long imprisonment a possibility of life and sanity ; for 
 as we know, however Venice might agree with the Moorish 
 jailer in calling him mad Alan, had given him ample evi- 
 dence of a strong power of mind that had enabled him to 
 withstand the breaking down and ruin of his mental facul- 
 ties. It is not madness to dream ; it is madness not to dream.
 
 A DREAMER OF DREAMS. 243 
 
 " It wouldna 'a' been a matter for wonder if I'd gane 
 clean daft, a Jack o' Bedlam," said Alan in one of his talks 
 with the cure" ; "think o' it! Twenty years o' bondage! 
 First a slave, a Christian slave amang blacks. Lastly, a 
 prisoner, barely seein' the leight for nigh upon ten year or 
 mair ! I didna count the time then, but I've been reckoning 
 the years ever since I gat free ! " 
 
 " It is terrible," said the cure, " as you say, it is wonderful 
 that you have retained your reason, my poor dear friend ; 
 but Christ and his Holy Mother have had you in their 
 keeping. And how came you in the hands of the slave- 
 dealers ?" 
 
 " Saving me from the sea and the jagged rocks, divine 
 Providence thocht reight to drop me into the hands of what 
 they call Riff pirates, trading in human flesh ; they made 
 nae difference between Christians and heathens, Europeans 
 and Africans, and I went wi' the rest ; ye'd a thocht if ye 
 could just a-seen me, wi' nae mair flesh on my bones than 
 was enough to haud them thigether, that the inhuman beasts 
 woud a-let me free ; but nae, as I tell ye, I went wi' the rest ? " 
 
 " My poor friend ! " said the cure". 
 
 "It is said there's nae depth without a lower, and its true 
 ivvery word o' it. Eh, how I sighed for the days o' the 
 slavery ! When they shut me up between stane walls, I had 
 nae idea how happy I'd been slavin' i' the sun, tillin' the 
 groond, carrying heavy loads, pulling an oar chained to the 
 seat, getting now and then a bitter taste o' blows, sleeping 
 at neight wi' a shedfu' o' African niggers, and a'maist as 
 many Europeans, who, like mysel', had once been white ! 
 God, man, when I think o' it, I thirst for blood like a tiger 
 turn'd to bay ! " 
 
 Alan tore open his Oriental vest and robe and paced the 
 floor, animal- like, as if he were caged, the good priest 
 slowly following him, uttering kindly and soothing words. 
 
 " Forgive me ! " said Alan presently, " forgive me !
 
 244 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 There are times when the devil seems to tak haud o' me, 
 and upbraid me that I didna find opportunity to cut the 
 throats o' them ? And, man, I did seek it, but they had 
 the scent o' bludhounds for danger and a' their watchful- 
 ness ! " 
 
 " There, there, my son, my dear old friend, be calm, sit 
 down," urged the priest, the thought passing through his 
 mind that had he himself been more intent upon the 
 technical observances of Holy Church, he might have elected 
 to pass his days in some lonely conventual cell. 
 
 " I ask your pardon," said Alan, " I amna quite mysel' at 
 times, and nae wonder, as ye are gude enough to say, 
 thinking o' the gude time I hae wasted ! " 
 
 " Why did they detain you in prison ? " asked the priest, 
 deeply interested in Alan's story, whenever his strange 
 friend was willing to relate his adventures. 
 
 " Nae, I dinna ken ! I just expected they'd tak my heed 
 off. Sometimes I wish they had, saving your riverance's 
 presence, as puir Pat Doolan used to say, when he ootraged 
 the deescipline o' the Church. Eh, hoo often I hae thocht 
 o' those days o' Heart's Delight, sometimes comin' tae 
 regard them a' as just a dream, a kind o' life a man might 
 hae leeved before he was born ! D'ye nae ken yersel' the 
 day when ye've felt ye hae liv'd in anither warld, and that 
 ye hae been left somehow behind in this ? " 
 
 " It is the next world I'm most concerned about," said 
 the priest, again patting the old man's bony hand, and 
 looking into the wandering eyes of his friend with compas- 
 sion, and the wish to soothe and comfort him. 
 
 " Aye, ivvery man to his trade," said Alan ; " but ye were 
 asking why they didna hang me ? " 
 
 " No, why they kept you in prison ? " 
 
 " That's ane o' the puzzles I often axed mysel' ! I earned 
 naething for them in prison, I was just a wee bit usefu' 
 ootside. But ane o' my jailers dropt a hint ane day that,
 
 A DREAMER OF DREAMS. 245 
 
 by the intervention o* the Christian powers, Christian 
 slavery had been abolished, and that even piracy had 
 become a deeficult business. Ye see there had been some 
 kind o' rebellion i' the land ; a risin' o' the tribes, and I 
 had ta'en a hand in it, bein' suddenly freed for that purpose ; 
 but it was just a fizzle, and I had nae time eether to get 
 into the feight or run for liberty, before I was a prisoner in 
 the hands o' the sultan or the king, or whativver they ca'd 
 the turbanned deevil, and when I wouldna boo wi' the rest, 
 insteed o' haeing my head chopp'd off, I was taen aside, and 
 my nationality bein' discovered by ane, they ca'd an inter- 
 preter ; I was released as a slave, and imprisoned as a 
 trailer, or a foreign spy, or what ye will, God in heaven 
 only knaws, I dinna, but they kept me in the prison o' 
 Tafilet. I gathered frae my jailer that I was regarded as 
 an uncannie kind o' agent in the rising, a danger to what 
 they ca'd the State, and being English, a kind o' fiend 
 either to kill or chain up, and sae, in mercifu' consideration 
 o' their victory, they decided to chain me up, and shut me 
 oot frae the light o' heaven ! I wouldna a-been surprised 
 gin they had seen me rise up from the coral strand that I 
 was the very fiend himself come to plague them. Eh, but 
 it was just a wonderfu' thing how I made my way out o' 
 that fearsome watter, wi' the rocks that jagged, you might 
 a thought even the Evil One couldna hae survived them ! " 
 
 " Almighty God was good to you, my son," said the cure. 
 
 " I hae tried to think sae, my dear friend," Alan replied, 
 " but what about the ithers that perished ? " 
 
 " The blessed saints must have interceded for you," said 
 the cure, " and Our Almighty Father had work for you, who 
 knows, perhaps for the glorification of his Church, for you 
 were, as I remember, my son, a brand snatched from the 
 burning, by the good influences of that saintly woman who 
 was given to you as a helpmate and companion. 
 
 "It passes belief that God could hae any work for sae
 
 OT250T THE GKEAT SEAL. 
 
 pair a aeatare,fbr ane sac punished and persecuted,'" Alan 
 answered, 'and ret k was nracnloas that I was resor- 
 rected, as you ought say, frae that Grin" grave to be 
 pinged imtae amther, and still be saved to see ye once 
 again in the lesh. While inrery timber o" the ship went to 
 pieces and rcvery nan o* the pair bodies wha had sailed wf 
 me amd fought wi" Me went to the bottom ; I was lifted out 
 o" the breakers, and I rase reight op, a" torn and lagged it 
 is trae, wT bfaadm' hands and feet, bat I stood scight op a" 
 lie sane Eke a firin" pfflar on a mighty plain o' ribbed 
 sand ; and I started off to walk agin the red bars o* the 
 and hot to my bkedin* feet, a" the 
 ht o" the day. And when I reached 
 y that I thonght on as the Xew 
 d a tfc..MJ^ I had only risen from 
 rery, W-**W alatdy. I came nigh 
 myself asking yoor reference's 
 orn frae me, I'm nae sae wicked as 
 
 t miiortanate,"" said the priest. 
 eedom hardly worse, frae freedom to 
 eU, feightin" for what I didna ken ; 
 
 mercy seat. It 
 d o" my wounds 
 
 er ; what should 
 hooid hae been 
 
 ness. Is it nae 
 
 "" - - 1 "w : i irr if. ~~ pi>c<?r ""^'Pt'J son, that yoa do not 
 T r:i:"i : jn tied fT:cn: 2Jbe BMsansetos,,' rtr care iffffd aJFec- 
 
 ~ - . ~ ~v r r-r i.. "vr^js iir-d and am<k uU ,mj father,"* said 
 : . ::t ^:::r":~z. his eyes moist with emotion, 
 
 C tihimlr I aiBnma there are I
 
 A DREAMER OF DREAMS. 247 
 
 in tins heavenly dry when I forget everything, savin* the 
 sunshine, the bloc skies, and the wondrous palaces, and 
 when I fed as if I had begun to walk the sacred streets o* 
 Paradise. D'ye mind the saintly tender wife I lad oat 
 yonder in Heart's Delight ? Ah, it was only she that kept 
 me frae madnrgg She came tome awl sat by me, and 
 talked to me in her soft sweet voice, and bad me be 
 '^ - -.- . - . t : ~t : 7 ;_ t: . . . ..-_ :., :' it ; . r. 
 t -v ::.: r -: 7 : - ; _:_:._; -;-;;. . . - : 
 to hers ; awl he'd fairiy greet what I towd him who I had 
 
 ii: r.r :.:. nt. 111 : _ _. t _:.::.:.: t .: r tr ::.: :i :it 
 
 gates; eh, bat it was a sad day forme when theowdman 
 drrd. mil luitwr rnmr I* hir nlirr uh i trnwd n Juu ph, 
 as die Scriptnre hath k ! " 
 
 ^ U was the Bkssed Mary that led her thither, my son ; 
 j: - ii- :riTt : :: :it H '," -- ', - 
 
 " I had prayed to God and tfaeKesscd Viigm, to Blessed 
 V.:iir. :it A:::.i:~t :: ::.t i:v i:-:r. -; I--:t: i:.: 
 3 i- . ii _ : : i . : :.- -_ : I i tvt: it.i: ; . _ - _:: -T : . .-- 
 happy days in the little chapel in the bay awl the Great 
 ~~. --- : . : T _-:_-.:-_:.: K _- i - :. t : 1 1~ t ^ ir : i 
 my lips in season and oot, and one day or waght she 
 ran^ I conidioa *"*^ HiaJiiigniA Height frae day sjhe 
 came with a great leigiit about her. I could see ivwery 
 :it f . ; - . : :. :i -- : : : :i "i: _ : 
 
 : : : : : - 7 : 7-7 : :r.t: : i : "^t ; 
 :; ::.t Ti;.ty Hti" j . :.:ti: _ _ 7 ^i: : .:> _r : t 
 teat they made her there, and Iconld see her gracious 
 countenance and hear her heavenly voice, and fed her soft 
 ii i; . ~ : _ ..:..:- _f :.. :rr v .; : " : v . : 
 y t..- : 5 : : . - 7 - : _ r : : _ 7 . .; :. . 11 i i; i - - - ". - ' 
 daj, and the prison walls fell down and we sat beneath the 
 ::tt5 . : Mt^r. J ; :.:r. -.:::_: i :;=:': ::.i: i:-:-j.f .' _t:t:.- 
 : . . i _ ^ i _ : 7 f- 7 :-. i _ i : : t : : : : - : - - ' ' -- i 
 sea and a city a* in one, I nae had sigM o* her but once ! *
 
 248 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " You have seen her again ? " said the priest. 
 
 " Aye, last neight of a' ithers ; but it was different frae 
 the prison and it was only in a dream ; she came to me the 
 neight and she led a young man by the hand ; he was drip- 
 ping wet wi' the sea ; 'twas a sailor lad, and she said un to- 
 me soft and low but in clear accents, impressive and delib- 
 erate, ' This is our dear son David, be good to him, he will 
 need your help and love.' At first I thought he mun be 
 dead, but she smiled as if she knew my thought and said, 
 ' No he lives ' ; and then I woke and went forth ; it was 
 break o* day and Atilio was up and in his boat, and he put 
 her head about and we sailed into the lagoons and the 
 world was just beautifu' beyond imagination, and I said to 
 mysel', I'll see him hereabouts, my dear son David, and the 
 wind coming in from the blue sea I just thought answered 
 me and said, yes ; and I felt that I should ken him the 
 moment I set eyes upon him, for the lad she held so tender- 
 like by the hand had her winsome look in's eyes, and I 
 could remember my ain sel' when like him, I was that tall 
 and straight, like a young poplar swaying in the wind ; 
 though now I look like that same tree blasted by the light- 
 ning, with bare branches, a jest and a scoffing to those wha 
 hae escaped the storms." 
 
 " Not so, dear friend, gray hairs are honorable, and the 
 lightning has not withered your heart, nor blighted your 
 life. You have sinned greatly." 
 
 " Aye, I know it ! " said Alan. 
 
 " We have all sinned greatly," continued the priest, " but 
 few have been punished upon earth as our Heavenly Father 
 hath punished you ; and as I have already vouched for it 
 on your contrition, your resolution to sin no more, and your 
 humble confession, your sins are forgiven you. To-morrow 
 in chapel, fitting time and place, we will speak further of 
 this. Meanwhile, Atilio you see has laid the cloth, and it 
 it fitting we refresh the physical man."
 
 A DREAMER OF DREAMS. 249 
 
 " Aye, but ye tak' me straight back to Heart's Delight ! " 
 said Alan, pushing his straggling hair from his forehead. 
 " Ye always know how to win a man from unhappy thoughts, 
 how to soothe his temper. Spiritual and pheesical I always 
 said Father Lavello had nae equal on airth ! Teresse, bring 
 the chekkens. Atilio, pour out the wine." 
 
 The cure smiled and drew his chair to the table and 
 talked of the Austrians and the fortunes of war, told stories 
 of Venice when she was mistress of the seas, talked of 
 Verona, and coaxed his host back from the hard lines of 
 his miseries into the genial atmosphere of the Lion of St. 
 Mark. 
 
 Father Lavello set his agents in England to work finding 
 out David Keith ; and they traced him to old Petherick's 
 at Yarmouth. It took months, however, to conduct the 
 correspondence. While they were waiting for information, 
 Alan and Father Lavello made their dispositions for the 
 future of Alan's son and heir. The cure, with a righteous 
 regard for higher powers than their own, took frequent 
 occasion to warn Alan by reference to the past, that what 
 might seem to man the most wise and virtuous plans did 
 not always find favor with God. They had both good 
 hopes, nevertheless, that Alan might live to embrace his 
 son and endow him with such of his worldly goods as he 
 deemed honestly come by, with a reversion of other 
 treasures to the service of Holy Mother Church. 
 
 Meanwhile, with the aid of a wise councilor and banker 
 in Venice, Alan had been enabled to withdraw from the 
 Bank of England a considerable sum of money that had 
 lain there on deposit since the days when David Piympton 
 had induced his son-in-law to place there a part of 
 Hannah's dowry and certain savings of his own. 
 
 It was fortunate for Alan that no legal or other record 
 of his piracy had come between him and his written and 
 duly witnessed order for this money the admiral who
 
 250 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 fought the St. George having, as we have seen, wiped 
 out with his official narrative every soul connected with it 
 the only living creature who could have given evidence to 
 the contrary being Lester Bentz, who, having been knighted 
 " for distinguished services to his country," was at that 
 time doing official duty as governor of a group of islands 
 far away from Newfoundland. Sir Lester Bentz was indeed 
 a man of influence and consideration. He had taken out 
 with him to his island home a young wife, and it is quite 
 possible that he has founded a family of colonial governors 
 who will carry the name of Bentz with honor and distinc- 
 tion to official graves. Father Lavello declined to discuss 
 with Alan the mysterious, not to say peculiar, ways of 
 Providence as exemplified in the case of Sir Lester Bentz, 
 except to point out to him the usefulness of Sir Lester's 
 absence from England, and the utter improbability of his 
 ever being in a position to do further injury to him or his 
 son. 
 
 So the time went on, and Alan found himself not only no 
 longer penniless but a man of current means, with gold in 
 his pocket and gold in the Venetian bank. 
 
 From being laughed at in Venice and treated with pitying 
 smiles, he became the wonder and admiration of the city, 
 beloved of the poor, respected of the rich, an eccentric it is 
 true, still a little mad, but with method in his madness, and 
 in his bright, flashing eyes the light of benevolence. 
 
 The solitary Turk salaamed him, for he had brought light 
 and warmth and furniture and tapestries back to the old 
 palace. The gondolier and his wife obeyed his every whim, 
 for he had made their gloomy cover in the back ways of the 
 palace homelike and comfortable ; so that when the winter 
 came they were not perished, and they had wine every day 
 and blessed the Virgin and her messenger, the mad English- 
 man, for it. 
 
 Thus in these days of his premature age and solitude,
 
 A DREAMER OF DREAMS. 251 
 
 Alan Keith found something of consolation and recompense 
 for much of his suffering, and with promise of a living son 
 to take his hand and pass down the last hills of life with him ; 
 a son to whom he could talk of his mother ; a son to whom 
 he could tell the secret of Demon's Rock ; a son whom he 
 could endow with wealth and power ; a son who might 
 restore the names of Keith and Plympton to honor and 
 respect at home and in Newfoundland.
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 BAD OMENS FOR THE "MORNING STAR." 
 
 No sooner was the Morning Star well on her way than 
 she became the sport and scoff of the elements. Ships are 
 lucky or unlucky, as men are. The Morning Star was 
 unlucky. 
 
 If there had been a league of fate against her she could 
 not have been worse beset than she was on this voyage, 
 which was to be memorable in the career of David Keith. 
 
 He set out with a cheerful heart. His hopes rose high 
 with his love. Elmira had given him a token of her pledged 
 affection. It was a ring, in exchange for one he had pressed 
 upon her finger at parting. Sally Mumford, his foster 
 mother, had said " Good-by " bravely, without a tear that 
 he could see. Mildred Hope had permitted him to kiss her 
 forehead and press her generous hand. Zaccheus Webb 
 had broached a special keg of brandy that had been smug- 
 gled from the Mounseers, and had drunk himself into 
 ballads and sea songs ; and Harry Barkstead had gone as 
 far as Bristol with his friend and made the coach-ride merry 
 with his free and hearty manners ; furthermore, he had 
 given quite an air of distinction to David's sailing by his 
 patronage of the captain and owners of the Morning Star 
 bound for Halifax and St. John's. 
 
 Nothing could have been more promising than David's 
 trip until the Morning Star begun to buffet the great rollers 
 of the North Atlantic. Her troubles did not come upon her 
 suddenly or altogether unexpected, for the glass had begun 
 to fall steadily from the time she was clear of the land.
 
 BAD OMENS FOR THE "MORNING STAR." 253 
 
 But one peril followed another with the direst persistence. 
 She encountered a steady crescendo of disaster. 
 
 There was not a cloud when she encountered her first 
 fierce gale. The skies were a steely blue. Walking over 
 the dunes at Caister, or tramping along the Yarmouth 
 streets, you would have said it was a fine breezy day. 
 Fishing smacks might have delayed putting out to sea until 
 the glass changed ; otherwise it would not have been 
 thought, especially by landsmen, anything but good weather; 
 yet on board the Morning Star it was awful. 
 
 The winds raged from every quarter of the compass. 
 The sea rose in vast waves that beat upon the ship with 
 thunderous blows. 
 
 David Keith had seen storms in the North Sea. He had 
 ridden through heavy gales with Zaccheus Webb in the 
 Flying Scud, that did not fly, but labored and kept her keel 
 strong and steady, a veritable Dutchman for stern and 
 beam ; but he had seen nothing like the North Atlantic ; 
 had heard nothing like the roar of the winds that drove 
 against the Morning Star, and at times threatened literally 
 to blow her out of the water. Now she was on her side ; 
 now she would right herself to rise upon the topmost wave 
 as if to slip into the gulf beyond, all the time straining and 
 crying like a living thing. The sailors strove to ease her, 
 tying up everything that could give an extra grip for the 
 strong unseen arms of the wind that tore at her and ripped 
 her sails whenever there was a stretch of canvas to lay hold 
 upon. 
 
 "Tell 'e she be unlucky," David heard one of the Bristol 
 men say to another during a passing lull in the tempest. 
 " I grant, as you says, that she did not sail zactly on a Friday, 
 but it were the thirteenth of the month, and Matt White of 
 Welsh Back met a cat as he wor going on board to the slip 
 where the Star was moored." 
 
 " I dunno as cats is onlucky," said the other, " I don't
 
 254 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 hold with all they says about cats, nor yet about pigs being 
 unlucky." 
 
 " Don't 'e ! Well, then I tell 'e' they be as onlucky as 
 priests or women on a ship ! " 
 
 " Well, Billy," was the reply, " I'd risk the luck if I had 
 my gal abroad." 
 
 "Would 'enow? Then I wouldn't, so I tell 'e ! I believes 
 strong in omens, and you mark my words ; and talking of 
 pigs, there was a drove of beasts unloading in the Welsh 
 Back the very day we was towed down the river. And you 
 knows well enough that Matt White dreamed as the Morning 
 Star would go down, and didn't waunt to sail in her, but they 
 med him ; and once afore on a similar dream the Warlock 
 did go down, as sure as we are in for the dirtiest weather as 
 ever was ! " 
 
 David being the only passenger on board had opportunities 
 of becoming acquainted with the officers and crew. During 
 the first few days he enjoyed the trip immensely. The cap- 
 tain was a sturdy if somewhat silent man, but he listened 
 respectfully to David's fishing adventures. 
 
 The first mate liked to talk and he found David a good 
 listener. The northern coast of Newfoundland was well 
 known to him, and he gave it a bad character. It was not 
 only a danger to ships but it harbored desperadoes. The 
 coast was sparsely populated and all manner of ruffians 
 occupied it, building themselves shanties in the rocky caves 
 and to his certain knowledge practicing the villainous work 
 of wrecking and robbery. From this they drifted into the 
 traditions of the coast, and then into stories of the super- 
 stitions of sailors. David told him what he had overheard, 
 and the mate confessed that there was a feeling of uneasiness 
 in the ship. He had advised the captain to let Matt White 
 quit, but the captain was a rigid disciplinarian and he would 
 not hear of a man who had signed articles being released on 
 frivolous grounds ; for Matt had confessed that the only
 
 BAD OME.VS FOR THE " MORNINO STAR." =55 
 
 reason for his desire to get another ship was on account of 
 a dream. 
 
 During the heaviest stress of the first gale that was noted 
 in her log two of the crew of the Morning Star came nigh 
 upon throwing Matt White, of the Welsh Back, overboard, 
 as a Jonah, but they relented when the storm abated, and 
 Matt had shown himself as willing as he was capable, taking 
 every bit of dangerous duty assigned to him with a cheerful 
 " Aye, aye," and holding out upon the yards with superb 
 grip when the sail at every bulge seemed as if it must fling 
 him into the sea. If Matt feared he did not show it, except 
 when omeqs were talked about. No sailor aboard had a 
 sterner nerve, none worked as Matt did, without a murmur, 
 even when piped from the short and intermittent rests that 
 hollowed the cheeks of other men and took the strength 
 out of their arms. 
 
 David had slept but little for several nights when at last 
 the weather improved, and once more the men were busy 
 unfurling sails and hoping to take full advantage of the 
 wind that seemed to be changing in favor of the voyage. 
 
 " Yes, I think you can count on a little rest to-night," 
 said the captain, as he scanned the horizon. 
 
 " You think the worst is over ? " said David. 
 
 " I hope so," said the captain. 
 
 " You doubt it ? " 
 
 " I do ; my advice is to get some sleep while you can, 
 Mr. Keith." 
 
 " Thank you," said David. 
 
 The captain went below. The mate took his place on 
 deck. But the mate was no longer talkative, and David, 
 as he watched the sunset, found his thoughts going back 
 to England, to Elmtra and his foster mother, to Zaccheus 
 Webb and the old house on the dunes. The wind was still 
 high, but David was no mere landsman, and he heeded not 
 the pitching and swirl of the ship as she beat up into the
 
 25 6 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 wind, and seemed to stretch forth wide open wings, as if 
 she would fly from the storm that was coming up with fresh 
 forces. 
 
 David paced the deck and lifted his face up to the spray 
 that scattered itself among the lower rigging and beat upon 
 him like rain and hail. 
 
 The crew were all busy about him, modifying the swing 
 of a sail here and there, and following the signals of the 
 boatswain's cheerful whistle. David looked beyond the 
 ship and pictured Yarmouth and Caister and all that he 
 loved there. Mildred Hope came into his mind, and at 
 thought of her he offered up a silent prayer that he might 
 be spared to return to the little house in Hartley's 
 Row. 
 
 The stars came out, clear and bright. David thought of 
 the one that might be shining over the home of Elmira. 
 
 It might have been that his father was looking up at the 
 heavens, too making allowance for the difference of time 
 and wondering and thinking of the son who knew him 
 not, and who deemed him dead long, long ago. The cure 
 had been able to report to Alan Keith the departure of 
 David for Newfoundland. The information had come from 
 Petherick, with whom Father Lavello had resumed a cor- 
 Tespondence that had already proved so consoling to Alan. 
 It may therefore well be that " the mad Englishman of 
 Venice " would think of David at sunset and when the 
 stars came out, for it is then, somehow, that men are most 
 accustomed to ponder over those they love, especially when 
 they are travelers far away. It was well, perhaps, that Alan 
 could not, even in his dreams, see David, his son, on board 
 the Morning Star. 
 
 With the setting of the sun the wind rose still higher. 
 There was, however, no suggestion of any fresh danger. 
 The vessel had already behaved so well, that she might be 
 fairly expected to ride out any other storm that struck her
 
 BAD OMENS FOR THE " MORNING STAR." 257 
 
 path. With a cheery " Good-night, Mr. Thompson," David 
 left the mate to his labors and went to bed. 
 
 Two hours later he was awakened by the well-known 
 commotion that belongs to a storm at sea. It did not need 
 an experienced ear to make out that the ship was in the 
 throes of a desperate struggle. The wash of the sea could 
 be heard like a cataract sweeping the deck. It wasaccom- 
 panied by the hard, steady beat of the prow against the 
 waves. She seemed to be pounding the sea as if a mighty 
 hammer was at work. " All hands, ahoy ! " rose trumpet- 
 like in the blast, followed by what sounded to be " Aye, 
 ayes." Then there was a confusion of sounds, a ripping 
 and a staggering, as if whatever sails had to be reefed had 
 evidently gone in tatters before the wind. A sound as of 
 musketry followed. This was the jib blown to ribbons. 
 Shouts again some half heard commenced ; this time 
 through a speaking trumpet " Lay up on that main yard," 
 seemed to pierce the other noises. Another scramble of 
 feet, and responsive cries of willingness and effort ; the 
 flapping of sails like the beat of mighty wings, a falling of 
 blocks on the deck, thunder and straining of timbers. 
 
 David scrambled from his berth and crawled on deck, 
 among the broken yards and entanglements of rigging. 
 The royal mast was being cut adrift. The galley went by 
 the board, both anchors had worked loose, one of them was 
 bearing down among the wreckage of sails and timbers ; 
 a water barrel was rolling from side to side, the ship was 
 groaning as if her timbers would part. Al! the time the 
 stars were shining. Many of them blinked as if the wind 
 crossed them. The chief lanterns of the night, however, 
 burnt steadily in the blue as if coldly watching the ship 
 (that had been named in honor of one of the brightest 
 of them) beating her heart out against the attacking winds 
 and seas. 
 
 From bad to worse ; from a full-rigged ship to a broken-
 
 258 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 masted, ragged, lame thing still fighting the storm ; from 
 a sail-stripped mutilated carrier of men and goods, to 
 a water-logged hulk ; her prow a fairy-like figure, however, 
 with a golden star still shining on its smooth forehead, the 
 only part of the doomed ship that could be plainly seen 
 above the waves. The sculptor who designed and carved 
 that woman with the proud defiant gaze, might have been 
 honestly proud if he could have seen his ideal figure rise 
 every now and then and breast the topmost wave, lifting her 
 bright golden star into the very face of the night and await- 
 ing eclipse with the dignity and calm of the sun itself. 
 
 When at last the storm abated ; when the stars went 
 in and the sun came out ; when the sea was calm and 
 smiling as it is on sunny days in the Solent, except for 
 a wide and swelling motion that might be taken for pride 
 of power ; when the winds seemed to have paused to listen 
 for the cries that had mingled with its own wild shouts of 
 menace and destruction ; all that was left of the Morning 
 Star was one of two boats, with David Keith and the super- 
 stitious Bristol sailor aboard. The captain and mate went 
 down with their ship. The rest of the crew were drowned 
 by the foundering of the first boat they had launched. 
 
 David and Matt White of the Welsh Back were the only 
 survivors of the Morning Star. The sun looked down upon 
 them smilingly ; and yet they were without meat or drink or 
 compass two famished men in an open boat on the North 
 Atlantic.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 " WAS LOST AND IS FOUND ; WAS DEAD AND IS ALIVE 
 AGAIN." 
 
 ONE of the sharpest agonies of shipwrecked men afloat is 
 the passing of ships whose lookout they have been unable 
 to attract. The morning has come with the cry, " A sail, a 
 sail ! " The day has been spent in making signals. The 
 night has fallen with the sea once more a watery desert. 
 
 David Keith and his companion, Matt White of the 
 Welsh Back, had no means of signaling. 
 
 They had neither mast nor oar. They were adrift upon 
 the ocean without any power to direct or control their boat. 
 Matt would stand up now and then and wave a handkerchief. 
 
 He did this, however, more by way of comforting his 
 companion in misfortune than with any hope of winning the 
 attention of anything or anybody within their horizon of 
 vision. Furthermore, he gave David the benefit of his 
 nautical observations as to their latitude and longitude, and 
 by the help of his knife he contrived to turn one of the 
 boat's seats into a rudder, with which he professed to steer, 
 telling David that all they had to do was to keep in the 
 track of ships. 
 
 Matt White had, however, not the slightest faith in the 
 possibility of their being picked up. He, nevertheless, 
 encouraged his young companion to hope, for he argued, as 
 if the idea had only just occurred to any human being, that 
 while there was life a man had no right to despair. 
 
 Matt knew he was doomed. He had said so before sail- 
 ing. He had predicted the loss of the Morning Star. It
 
 260 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 was a cruel law that compelled a man to go on board a 
 doomed ship. What were omens for ? he argued. They 
 were to guide the mariner. Why did cats meet a man 
 when he was going on board, and why did pigs also give 
 warning ? because they were so ordained ; and as for a 
 dream, why it was nothing short of impiety to disregard the 
 forecast of a voyage when it was accompanied with other 
 signs and tokens of disaster. But there, it was all over, the 
 ship had gone, the captain who wouldn't be advised, and 
 the mate and all the crew, except him and the one pas- 
 senger ; and all they had to do was to wait God's own time 
 and hope for the best. 
 
 Not exactly in these words, but to this effect, Matt White 
 communed with himself while David slept ; and curiously 
 enough the lad slept for many hours after the boat began 
 to drift away from the scene of the wreck. On the other 
 hand, Matt White could not sleep a wink. He watched 
 and talked, grew hungry and a-thirst, fancied he saw sails 
 when the sea was empty of them as his own hopes, much as 
 he pretended to the contrary. 
 
 The sun was hot all day, and at night the breeze was 
 sultry. On the next day there was a thunderstorm. The 
 sea was not rough. It rose and fell with a strange uni- 
 formity of motion, without breaking. The rain had assuaged 
 the thirst of the two waifs of the sea. Matt had caught it 
 in his hands and laughed over it. He had been more or 
 less feverish from the first. David had held his face up to 
 the great tropic-like drops, and was refreshed. 
 
 One desire satisfied, then came hunger. The next day 
 was burning hot. The sun seemed to fire the waters. 
 There was no stir in the air. Matt said another storm was 
 brewing. At night there came heavy mist. It broke now 
 and then into ghostly forms. David awoke feeling faint 
 and weak. He tried to rise, and found that his limbs were 
 stiff and painful. Matt was always busy, whether David
 
 " WAS LOST AND IS FOUND." 261 
 
 slept or not. He would shade his eyes with his hands and 
 look out into the night just as he did when he could see in 
 the daytime. Then he would mumble and chuckle. Once 
 he had awakened David with his singing. It was an old 
 sea-song that he was trying to remember, ever harking back 
 for the words, and always chuckling when he thought he 
 had snatched them out of his fading memory. 
 
 On the third day David felt as if he were dying, so weak, 
 so hopeless, so empty, so incapable of thought. 
 
 He lay with open eyes in the stern of the boat watching 
 Matt, who was in a raging fever. It was his particular 
 mania in these last hours to fancy every cloud a sail. He 
 hailed them with cries and laughter. He thought they 
 signaled him. He answered them ; he shouted the name 
 of the foundered vessel ; at least he thought he shouted it ; 
 but his voice was a hoarse whisper ; his tongue clove to 
 the roof of his mouth. 
 
 After an hour or two of this mad exercise, waving his 
 arms and answering signals, he suddenly flung himself into 
 the sea. David had neither the strength nor the inclina- 
 tion to attempt his rescue. He stared vacantly at the 
 empty place which Matt White had filled a moment before, 
 and then shut his eyes, as he thought if he thought at all 
 in death. He remembered no more until he found him- 
 self in the cabin of an Italian vessel homeward bound for 
 Venice. 
 
 When he awoke he thought he was in Hartley's Row ; 
 then he thought he was on the Morning Star after a bad 
 dream. Trying to move he felt his body stiff and sore. 
 He looked round the cabin and noticed that there was 
 another bunk in it, and that by his side were medicine 
 bottles, and wine glasses, and a soup basin. He turned 
 over and tried to collect his faculties. The effort was too 
 much for him, and it was many hours before he again 
 became sensible of his surroundings.
 
 262 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 It was one of these curious tricks of Fate that are 
 common enough, however startling they may seem, that 
 Alan Keith should have been sitting on the quay when the 
 captain of the bark Eldorado walked by with a young 
 fellow leaning upon his arm. They were on their way to a 
 certain charitable refuge for unfortunate sailors, the boy 
 being no other than Alan's son, whom Father Lavello was 
 moving heaven and earth to find, and for whom the released 
 prisoner of Tafilet had begun to build castles in the air. 
 
 Sitting there upon the quay while David passed, he was 
 apparently watching the newly moored ship, with the busy 
 coming and going of sailors and merchants, or looking out 
 over the broad lagoons ; but in reality Alan saw none of 
 the sights that lay immediately under his eyes, heard none 
 of the various sounds all about him. He saw a grave in 
 the bosom of the forest of Heart's Content ; he saw several 
 cairns at the base of Demon's Rock : he saw between the 
 outlet of the cavern and the log hut where he and Predie 
 and his companions of the captured Anne of Dartmouth 
 had whiled away the winter, a certain clump of trees and 
 rock where he had buried his own honest savings apart 
 from the plunder of the St. Dennis and other prizes. It 
 was some half recognized instinct of honor that had induced 
 him to keep his own money apart from the treasure of the 
 crews ; it might have been conceived in the spirit of fair 
 play with the view to the ultimate division stipulated for in 
 the articles of agreement between him and his men. Some 
 vague idea of devoting this honest gold to the memory of 
 his wife may have influenced him. But as he sat on this 
 bright winter's day, regardless of the chill air that came in 
 little gusts of searching wind from the Adriatic, apparently 
 mucli engrossed in the Eldorado or the shivering lagoons, 
 he experienced no particular feeling in regard to the differ- 
 ence between the treasures in Wilderness Creek and the 
 hidden box on the way to the hut with its natural garden
 
 " WAS LOST AND IS FOUND" 263 
 
 of berry plants and flowers. He felt a craving to unearth 
 the strange jumble of gold and precious stones, of silver 
 cups and golden ornaments, of laces and silks, and other 
 textiles, embroideries, and strange spices. 
 
 His memory carried him back with singular clearness, 
 and considering all that had happened, he had not the re- 
 motest doubt that he was the sole inheritor of the secret 
 treasure. 
 
 Once a transient shadow of fear crossed his mind in the 
 form of Lester Bentz, and even in his present penitential 
 mood he wished he had killed him. At the same time he 
 came to the conclusion that Bentz could not possibly have 
 known of the hiding of the treasure, and it seemed to him 
 that making them part of the dead, giving them memorials 
 of mortality, was a sufficient disguise for all time, apart 
 from the inaccessibility of the spot and the superstitious 
 dread which belonged to Nasquappe and Demon's Rock. 
 
 " My son," he said to himself, as he wandered homewards, 
 taking the narrow, unfrequented ways of the city, and paus- 
 ing now and then to exchange some curious or friendly greet- 
 ing, " my son David, it is time ye came for your inheritance ; 
 I canna live much longer ; I feel ghostly warnin's, noo that 
 I hae made my peace wi' Almighty God and his Blessed 
 Son, it's like I may be caa'd at ony moment ; it's borne 
 in upon my distracted mind that I'll see thee soon, and I 
 ken thy face, my dear, as wee! as if I'd seen it a' my days ; 
 I hae seen it i' the spirit, thy mither leadin' thee by the 
 hand and sayin' in her ain sweet hevanely voice, ' Alan, love, 
 this is David, our dear son ! ' " That night in his dreams 
 Alan saw his wife and son again, and this time David 
 was no longer wet with the damps and weeds of the sea. 
 
 A strange unrest took possession of him after this. He 
 wandered forth into the cold night, took Atilio's boat and 
 rowed himself down the Grand Canal, and let the wind toss 
 him upon the waves of the incoming tide away past the
 
 264 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 quay where the Eldorado was lying and out upon the 
 lagoons towards the Lido. The thunder of the Adriatic 
 beating upon the sandy barriers within which slept the ocean 
 city, recalled to him the rollers of the Atlantic outside the 
 harbor of Wilderness Creek. 
 
 It was on the next day that the English consul, who had 
 taken an interest in Father Lavello's inquiries, called upon 
 him at his temporary lodging in Venice, to acquaint him with 
 the landing of a young Englishman who said his name was 
 David Keith, and that he had been picked up in an open 
 boat on the homeward voyage of the Eldorado, famished with 
 cold and hunger, and for a time thought to be dead. He 
 had, however, survived his terrible privations, and was now 
 in kindly hands at the sailors' retreat near the Arsenal. 
 
 Father Lavello went at once to investigate this informa- 
 tion, which seemed to him nothing short of miraculous, 
 though, to be sure, it might have chanced that some other 
 ship had picked up the lad and taken him to some other 
 part. The consul said something noble in the aspect of 
 the young fellow, despite his miserable plight, had stimulated 
 the usually benevolent sentiments of sailors toward any un- 
 fortunate victim of the sea ; and for himself he was bound 
 to say that he also was much impressed by the lad's hand- 
 some face and dignified figure. 
 
 They had dressed him in sailor garb, something between 
 a pirate and a blue-jacket, and the highest compliment they 
 could pay him was to say that he was the beau ideal of an 
 Italian youth, his hair black, his eyes dark and soft, his face 
 of an olive complexion, and his form as lithe as that of a 
 young fawn. A Moravian from the Lido who visited the 
 house of charity said he was worthy to be the hero of a poem 
 by their great and learned Byron, who some years previously 
 had lived among them, glorifying their language and wor- 
 shiping Venice. 
 
 Perhaps the Moravian found an added beauty in David
 
 " WAS LOST AND IS FOUND." 265 
 
 for the reason that the young fellow was a Protestant, and 
 while respectful to the priests, let them understand that he 
 and his were of the Reformed faith. But Father Lavello 
 found the boy tolerant and gentle, the more so when he in- 
 formed him that he had known his mother and father, had 
 confessed them in the days of their courtship, and blessed 
 them at the altar of the Holy Catholic Church when they 
 became man and wife. 
 
 " That is," said the cure\ " if you are, as I make no doubt, 
 the son of Alan and Hannah Keith, of Heart's Delight." 
 
 " So far as I know," said David. " I am. Miss Mumford, 
 who nursed me and carried me to England, told me so, and 
 I was on my way to Newfoundland to claim my patrimony 
 when I was wrecked." 
 
 " Indeed ; you had some special authority ? " 
 
 " The authority of the trustees under the will of my 
 grandfather, David Plympton." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " Proved, I believe, in the courts by my chief, Mr. 
 Waveny Petherick of Yarmouth." 
 
 " Yes," said the priest, " with whom you were articled to 
 the law." 
 
 " You seem to know me well," said David, smiling. " It 
 is strange to be shipwrecked and brought into Venice to 
 meet one who knew my parents, and who has knowledge of 
 me also." 
 
 "It is," said the priest, "and who, until lately, had kept 
 trace of you and your record for the sake of the old days 
 when you were an infant, and your father and mother were 
 members of his flock. Strange ! Yes, the ways of God 
 are strange to mortal man ; the prayers of your saintly 
 mother have been heard, her intercession has borne fruit, 
 for the Almighty Father is no respecter of persons where 
 the holy intercession of the Blessed Virgin is obtained, and 
 her voice can prevail even though the sinner be Protestant
 
 266 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 and outside the pale. Nay, my son, spare me thy answer. 
 Let us give Almighty God thanks for this miracle of thy 
 preservation." 
 
 David felt himself subdued by the earnest words and 
 manner of the priest, only venturing to remark that he 
 hoped he had been spared for some good work in the 
 world. 
 
 " A pious and worthy ambition," said the priest, "arid be 
 sure it is so ; your future shall be remarkable for good ; for 
 you have been miraculously saved, and for such a meeting, 
 in this city of marvels, as your wildest dreams can hardly , 
 have forecasted. That you are a Protestant, and desire it 
 to be so known, argues a certain piety ; it is the man of no 
 religion, the infidel, the scoffer, for whose soul the Church 
 is most solicitous. You have prayed to God ? You have 
 thanked God for your deliverance ? " 
 
 " Yes, with all my heart and soul," said David, catching 
 something of the religious tone of the priest's manner ; 
 " surely the worst of God's creatures would have done that, 
 had he been raised from the dead as I have been, for my pres- 
 ervation almost amounts to that. The doctor said so only 
 yesterday when we parted ; and, in truth, when I last shut 
 my eyes in that boat at sea, it was to die, and when I awoke, 
 it was as if I had been dead and had come to life again." 
 
 " Was lost and is found, was dead and is alive again," 
 said the priest. 
 
 " I wish your reference applied in full to my case, sir," 
 said David, " even though I should be called a prodigal and 
 had herded with swine." 
 
 " Who shall say what a merciful and all-seeing God may 
 not have in store for you ! I am surely his messenger to 
 you in this miraculous deliverance. Are you strong enough 
 to receive tidings of as great joy as that of your own deliver- 
 ance to those who shall learn of it when most they think 
 you lost ? Your foster-mother, for example."
 
 "WAS LOST AND IS FO UND. " 267 
 
 " And the girl who is betrothed to me," said David, 
 " they will hear of the loss of the Morning Star, and it will 
 break their hearts." 
 
 " We must take means to acquaint them of your safety," 
 said the cure, " I will obtain the aid of the English consul 
 for that purpose without delay." 
 
 " Thank you, oh, thank you," said David, more deeply 
 moved than he had yet shown himself. 
 
 " You are very young to marry ? " said the priest. 
 " When one loves sincerely, and Ehnira's father is willing, 
 and my foster-mother approves, and Mr. Waveny Petherick 
 does not object, and one can provide a home, a year one 
 way or the other is no serious matter ? " 
 
 David made this statement rather in the way of asking a 
 question than propounding a decision. 
 
 " Perhaps not," said the cure, " since you are so far 
 pledged, let us hope there can be no other objection." 
 
 " What a blessing it is that my London trustee sailed 
 before me, or rather not in the Morning Star. He was to 
 prepare the way for my coming, and meet the Morning'JStar 
 at Halifax." 
 
 "It cannot be but the Divine hand is strongly in all this," 
 said the cure ; " but you did not answer me ? Are you 
 strong enough to receive a further shock, not an unhappy 
 one, but a shock ; I am something of a physician, let me 
 see." 
 
 He took David's hand and felt his pulse ; " We must not 
 put you back into a fever. A little rest and I will come to 
 you again." 
 
 " I am strong enough for anything, sir," said David, 
 "have no -fear for me; I think I have passed a physical 
 examination that should answer for me. You have some- 
 thing strange to tell me, something you are anxious to dis- 
 close, what is it ?" 
 
 David drew himself up and faced the priest, recalling to
 
 268 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Father Lavello the figure of the settler who, in the stormy 
 days of Heart's Delight, defied Admiral Ristack, and 
 softened only at thought of his saintly wife, the rose of that 
 desert by the sea. 
 
 " I will take you at your word. Put this cloak about you 
 and come with me." 
 
 The cure" took up a cloak that was hanging upon the wall 
 and they went out together. 
 
 "The air is chilly," said the priest, " it is not always sum- 
 mer, even in Venice." 
 
 He beckoned for a gondola. David took a seat in the 
 gloomy-looking boat. The priest following, directed the 
 solitary gondolier to the Turkish Palace, and sat silently 
 contemplating the water and the procession of buildings 
 with their vistas of back canals, and collecting his thoughts 
 for the coming interview of father and son. 
 
 Alan Keith sat smoking in his decayed yet palatial room. 
 He had folded his long gaberdinish coat about him ; round 
 his neck was loosely wrapped a crimson silk scarf. He was 
 sitting in a tall armchair that had an elaborately carved 
 back. At his elbow was a small table upon which lay an 
 open book. The room was large, with pillars and a vesti- 
 bule at one end, and an alcove-bed at the other, where Alan 
 was sitting. The walls were gay with the colors of half- 
 defaced frescoes. There were heavy tapestried portieres 
 over the doorways ; and small windows here and there 
 blinded with dust. The marble floor was in lovely tone 
 from an artistic point of view, and it was covered here and 
 there with mats and rugs. 
 
 " Alan," said the priest, having bidden David remain 
 within shadow of the vestibule, " our prayers and the inter- 
 cession of your saintly wife with the Holy Mother of God 
 have prevailed." 
 
 Alan turned his bright eyes toward the priest as if invit- 
 ing further speech.
 
 " WAS LOST AND IS FOUND." 269 
 
 " Be calm, dear friend," was the cure's response. 
 
 " I am calm," said Alan, laying down his long pipe. 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " God has sent your son to Venice," said the priest. 
 
 " Praised be His holy name ! " Allan replied. 
 
 The priest stepped back to beckon David, who came 
 forward. 
 
 " This is your father," said the priest. 
 
 " David, I expected you," said the father, controlling 
 himself with a mighty effort, but only for a moment. "I 
 expected you ! " 
 
 David looked at his father, and a sharp cry of surprise 
 escaped him. 
 
 u Oh, my God ! " Alan exclaimed, stepping toward the 
 boy and opening his arms. David burst into tears and 
 buried his face in the old man's neck. 
 
 Father Lavelio stealthily withdrew. 
 
 Alan rocked the tall fellow in his arms and crooned in a 
 pathetic way over him for some moments, and then thrust 
 him apart to gaze upon him. 
 
 " My dear David, my son, my ain son, what a miracle ! 
 After a' these heart-breakin' years, to see ye in the flesh, to 
 hear your voice ! Eh, man, but I haena heard your voice. 
 Speak to me, David." 
 
 " Father," said the lad. 
 
 " Aye, but gae on ; tell me where ye hae come frae ; talk 
 to me ! I hae hard work to keep mysel' frae yellin' oot 
 like a maniac." 
 
 "Sit down, father," said David, "and calm yourself." 
 
 " Don't leave me, lad ! " exclaimed Alan ; " where's your 
 mither? Hannah, ye hae brought him hame, but ye hae 
 left us ! " 
 
 Alan sat down in his chair again, still keeping David's 
 hand ki his. 
 
 David looked round the room, and felt too as if he might
 
 270 UNDER THE Gft'EAT SEAL. 
 
 have lost his senses, as if he had eaten of the insane root, so 
 many strange things had happened to him since he went by 
 coach -to Bristol and took his berth on board the Morning 
 Star. 
 
 "Forgie me, David, if I amna quite mysel'. Ye see your 
 sainted mither has brought ye to me sae often in my dreams 
 that it seems as if she too might be here, though I ken 
 weel enough she's dead and buried years and years agone. 
 Nae, lad, I'll be mysel' in a minute." 
 
 The gaunt figure once more rose up and stood by the 
 side of the young lithe waif of the sea. 
 
 " Tak houd o' my airm ; let us walk about and pinch 
 oorsel's and be sure we are awake," he said, pulling the boy's 
 arm within his own and pacing the apartment with him. 
 
 " Ye think me a strange father ; some o' these foolish 
 kind folk in this city call me the mad Englishman ; I'm 
 nae mad, David, though I might hae been excused for such 
 a fa', considerin' what I hae gane through. I'm neither 
 mad nor poor, David ; ye shall find I'm rich, my son, rich, 
 far mair than even Lavello dreams ; I hae been waiting to 
 tell ye ; I hae toud them nought, Lavello kens a little, but 
 it's nought to what I hae got to tell ye, David ! But ye 
 look faint, ye arena strong, we'll hae some food and 
 drink. Hallo, there, Atilio, Terese. We'll kill the fatted 
 calf, David ; we'll open our. best wine we'll drink and be 
 merry was lost and is found was dead and is alive again." 
 
 Once more overcome with excitement, Alan staggered 
 back to his seat, and David soothed him with filial words 
 of comfort. 
 
 " I'm just an auld fool," said Alan presently. " I 
 thought I was what the priest ca's a stoic, and I'm just an 
 auld fool. David, sit ye doon, and feel ye are at hame, and 
 I'll just mak an effort to be mysel'. Eh, but it's sae lang 
 sin' I had ye for a son. It just drives me wild to think o' it." 
 
 The gondolier and his wife came running in.
 
 "WAS LOST AND IS FOUND." 271 
 
 " Quick," said Alan, " food and wine ; all ye've got ; the 
 fatted calf the best of everything ; this is my son." 
 
 He rose up with a haughty wave of his bony hand as he 
 made this declaration. 
 
 The Italian servants expressed their surprise and delight. 
 Terese said the young signor was as tall as his father. 
 The gondolier told David that his father was the kindest 
 man in the world. Terese added that dinner was nearly 
 ready and proceeded with Atilio's assistance to drag forth 
 a table near the stove and began to lay the cloth. Father 
 Lavello, as the servants withdrew, thought it a happy mo- 
 ment to return. 
 
 " Eh, man," said Alan, " ye're just in time. Let me in- 
 troduce ye David, my son, this is my good friend and 
 confessor, Father Lavello, wha kenned ye when ye were 
 just a baby." 
 
 For the moment Alan had forgotten that it was the priest 
 who had brought his son to him. 
 
 " My dear David Keith," said the cure, " I congratulate 
 you upon this happy meeting." 
 
 "But I'm forgeting," said Alan, "and ye maun forgie 
 me, for I'm a leetle beside mysel' ; it was you, dear friend, 
 who found him, you who have been God's instrument of 
 kindness in a' this. Forgive me. David, I'd nivver a seen 
 ye again but for Father Lavello." 
 
 " The good father came to me at the Home, where the 
 captain secured me a lodging," said David, " and has 
 earned my eternal gratitude." 
 
 " Here's the dinner," said Alan, as the servants came in 
 with some smoking dishes. " Father Lavello, this is the 
 feast, nae, I vvinna say for the prodigal son, I'll just say 
 for the prodigal father ; and I \vish it was a better repast ; 
 but we'll make up for it in the choicest Chianti. Come 
 noo, let's fa' to. I ken this lost and is foond, God bless 
 him, is both a-hungered and a-thirst."
 
 272 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Father Lavello asked a blessing upon the feast ; and the 
 three fell to heartily. 
 
 During the meal, David, responding to his father's ques- 
 tions, gave him some particulars of his life, and his adven- 
 tures in the Morning Star. Although he had spoken of 
 Elmira to the priest he made no mention of her over dinner. 
 Something made him pause when her name was on his 
 tongue. He felt as if the declaration of his engagement 
 was now a matter to be privately mentioned to his father. 
 Alan drew from the cure" stories of their past experiences 
 of Newfoundland, and Alan himself talked of Heart's 
 Delight, and wondered what it was like after all those 
 years ! 
 
 He was much interested when David spoke of Miss 
 Mumford, and Alan thereafter repeated, not without some 
 bitterness, the story of his capture, and Pat Doolan's 
 account, related to him long afterward, of his rescue of 
 Sally and Baby David from the king's buccaneering law- 
 powerful scoundrels. He laid down his knife and fork and 
 listened with eyes and ears to David's account of Sally's 
 home and Petherick's office ; and every now and then, -in a 
 kind of stage aside, when Father Lavello was most engaged 
 with his meat and wine, he would say to his son, "Bide a 
 wee, my son, just bide a wee, and I'll tell ye a story that'll 
 make the blood dance in your young veins ; bide a wee.' 
 David would nod knowingly in return, falling in with his 
 father's humor, and putting his warning promise down to 
 the upset of their meeting. 
 
 But David had by no means taken the measure of his 
 father, Alan Keith ; nor had Father Lavello, his friend 
 and confessor. In all his dreams, during all his confes- 
 sions, not in any single narrative of adventure, nor when 
 most he appeared to be unburdening himself, had the mad 
 Englishman of Venice disclosed the secret of the buried 
 treasure of Wilderness Creek.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " ALWAYS TO-MORROW." 
 
 IT was with closed doors and in secret that Alan Keith 
 confided to his son, David, the mysteries of Wilderness 
 Creek. 
 
 The gondolier Atilio and his wife Terese were a-bed. 
 Father Lavello had gone home to his snug quarters at 
 Verona. David had been allotted a corner of his father's, 
 apartment. Terese had made up a snug bed for him with 
 a curtain round it. The Turkish custodian was dreaming 
 on his couch in a niche of his own private chamber over- 
 looking the quadrangle. 
 
 Alan and David were keeping themselves warm with 
 wine and tobacco. Winter is of such short duration in 
 Venice that a fire is a luxury but little known. The Ger- 
 man stove and the open grate are innovations of the present 
 day. Furs, cushions, wraps, and among the old and poor 
 the scaldini, were almost the only protection against the 
 cold. David and Alan sat with their feet upon a couple of 
 large cushions, that neutralized the chill of the marble 
 floor. Wise people who feared the cold were in bed, or 
 huddled together in some cafe where animal heat, a few 
 lamps, and the absence of ventilation kept the topers warm. 
 
 Handsome even in decay was the spacious room where 
 David listened With awe and wonder to such parts of his 
 father's story as Alan thought well to narrate. Two or 
 three sconces on the wall with long-wicked candles flick- 
 ered upon frescoed panels and deepened the shadows of 
 recesses and cupboards. There were no lights in the old 
 bronze chandelier that swung from the painted ceiling, but
 
 274 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 the table held an oil lamp, a tall flagon of wine, pen, ink, 
 and paper, a Dutch tobacco box of embossed silver, which 
 the Turk had lent his lodger-guest, one or two Nuremburg 
 goblets, a glass flask of Chianti, and other things in artistic 
 disorder. 
 
 Alan sat facing his son, who found it a special comfort to 
 smoke. It soothed his nerves and helped him to keep his 
 countenance and hold his tongue. More than once he had 
 come to the conclusion that his father was mad ; all through 
 his intercourse with him he was fascinated by the old man's 
 remarkable personality. 
 
 " I question if I hae been strectly reight in keepin' a' 
 this back in confession," said Alan, " but I am nae reightly 
 a true Catholic, havtn' been brought up i' the Protestant 
 faith, sae I mun get Father Lavello's forgiveness on that 
 account ; he's a generous priest, and besides we'll gie the 
 Church somethin' to mak absolution easy." 
 
 " There's no effectual confession that is not made to our 
 Father which art in Heaven," said David, quoting uncon- 
 sciously from Mildred Hope, " and no person between the 
 sinner and his God can help him except the interceder, 
 Christ, Our Lord." 
 
 " Ye've ta'en to religion then, David ?" said his father 
 interrogatively, while filling his long quaint pipe from the 
 Turk's silver tobacco jar. 
 
 "T don't profess much in that way," said David, "but 
 Miss Mumford has a friend who talks religion to us, and 
 my rescue from the sea has made me feel that her prayers 
 and God's goodness may be the reason why I am sitting 
 here at this time." - 
 
 " Aye lad, you're reight, and what a mercy it is ! We 
 needna mak a theological discussion o' that, David ; as 
 for sects and denomenations and the like, your mither 
 belonged to that other church, sae I tuk up wi' it because 
 she was mair to me, David, than a* the churches on airth.
 
 "ALWAYS TO-MORROW." 275 
 
 And the last I ken o' her when she waur happiest, she was 
 just pressin' you to her breast. It's a lang time to luke 
 forward frae your age to mine, but to luke back weel 
 they say truly when they say life's just a span. Man, it's 
 nae mair than a day to luke back upon, a butterfly's day, a 
 bit o' sun, and then storm and stress, old age and death. 
 The sun is for you, David. And by the might o' bonnie 
 Scotland, ye shall hae it. Your path shall be paved wi' 
 goud an grouted in wi' precious stones. It shall, my laddie, 
 it shall ! " 
 
 Alan laid down his pipe and paced the room. The tapes- 
 tried portiere stirred as if with the action, but it was the 
 wind that had crept though crevice and doorway to moan 
 and tell of the chiUs without. 
 
 "Wad to heaven," the old man went on, "ye might find 
 some o' the brood o' Ristack and Ruddock and Bentz to 
 get your hand on their throats, to trample on them, to 
 grind them, to tear them down, them and their household 
 gods and nae, but I maun forget a' that. I hae had my 
 revenge ; the Lord delivered my enemies into my hands, 
 and I smote them, hip and thigh." 
 
 The remembrance of the capture of the Anne of Dart- 
 mouth ignited long slumbering fires. Alan laughed a wild 
 laugh that stirred the sleep of the Turk in his mattressed 
 niche. He uttered a prayer to Allah and went off again 
 into dreams and forgetfulness. 
 
 " Down, ye imp of hell ! Aye, but I made ye lick the 
 dust ! And your rear admiral, how he crackled and 
 spluttered in the fire. But God hae mercy on me ! I had 
 repented o' a' that ; and the gude priest had granted me 
 absolution and rest ! " 
 
 He paused, looked round and saw David, who was watch- 
 ing him, fearing he had gone mad. 
 
 " Forgive me, David, my son, I amna mysel' once now 
 and again, and it's hard to realize that ye can be here by
 
 276 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 my side ; nae, dinna think I'm daft. Eh, but I hae suffered 
 sae, it wouldna be surprisin' if I were ; it's just wonderfu" 
 I'm as rational as I am." 
 
 He sat down by the stove, took up his pipe, and laid his 
 right hand upon David's head. 
 
 "It's over, laddie; it was just a fit o' keen remembrance; 
 it's over, I find it hard to be sure I amna dreamin' a* the 
 time ; your saintly mither sat by me i' the dungeon as ye 
 are sitting now, and but there, she was just a spirit, I 
 never touched her hand as I touch yours, and naebody else 
 saw her, only me, David, only me." 
 
 David took his father's hand, remarking, " I am flesh and 
 blood, father ; there's no mistake about me ; but I can 
 understand your fancying strange things ; I do myself ; I 
 wake in the night shivering in that boat at sea, with poor 
 old Matt White, of the Welsh Back, signaling imaginary 
 sails. Take another cup of wine, father, and let me give 
 you a light." 
 
 David passed the flagon of Chianti, and lighted a spill 
 at the smoldering fire, and Alan smiling drew a long breath, 
 and sent the blue wreaths of smoke up into the shadows of 
 the painted ceiling. 
 
 " That's a' reight ! Noo, David, look at this ; it's a bit 
 o' the map o' North America, showing the coast o' New- 
 foundland to Labrador ; I tore it frae a chart I bought i' 
 the Square a week or twa back." 
 
 He laid upon the table a strip of paper, and held over it 
 a small hand lamp that might have lighted an ancient doge 
 to read his missal, so quaint and old was it, and yet so 
 fitting to the bony hand of Alan Keith, so much in keeping 
 was it with his glittering eyes, his long face, and his 
 picturesque robes. 
 
 " The names are in Italian, but I hae marked the points 
 in English, sae that in case we are not destined to complete 
 our voyage together, ye may find your way alone. Here,
 
 ^ALWAYS TO-MORROW." 277 
 
 ye see, is St. John's, this, by the way, is Halifax from 
 St. John's, ye ken, running north here is the coast line ; 
 here is Heart's Delight." 
 
 He paused as his long forefinger rested at the point he 
 had especially marked, and heaved a sigh that almost 
 brought the tears to David's eyes. 
 
 " At the back o' Heart's Delight," went on the old man, 
 reseating himself, and putting the lamp on the table, David 
 standing by his side, " is Heart's Content, or was ; and there, 
 beneath the tamarack, lie your sainted mither and our auld 
 dog Sampson, wha thought he was just as strong and cap- 
 able as I was, but he kenned nought aboot the overwhelmin' 
 numbers and the knife that awaited him ; I'll show ye the 
 spot, please God ; but I maunna waste time wi' these things, 
 the mair sae that they tear at my heart and disable my mind. 
 The past is deed sae far that we canna bring it back, the 
 future is for the young, it is for you, David. Noo, follow 
 my finger ; ye see a' this stretch o' coast ; for miles it might 
 be just a vast sea-wall built by God himself, with sneakin 1 
 rocks runnin' out into the open that the de'il might hae 
 planted to trap unwary mariners. And sae ye see it goes 
 broken now and then by gaps, and then risin' again into 
 lofty capes wi' their extremities seawards to mark the en- 
 trance to the great bays, Conception, Trinity, Bonavista, 
 and Notre Dame. We cross them, d'ye see, and come to 
 the northern headland ; ye'll mind the scenery here the 
 longest day ye live, rock o' every imaginable shape, jagged, 
 pointed, tall, short, wi' mighty precipices keep clear o' 
 them, gie them a wide berth. This point I hae marked 
 strong is Cape Bauld, the northern point of Quirpon, four 
 degrees north o' St. John's. When the sun has loosened 
 the icy cables that haud them, the icebergs o' the frozen 
 north come sailing down here through the Straits o' Belle 
 Isle. That's Belle Isle, d'ye mark, barren, desolate ; the 
 cauld air filled, they say, wi' cries o' demons and fiends, wi'
 
 2? 8 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 deevils rampant and the like; but that's an auld wife's tale, 
 there are nae demons sae wicked and hellish as man ; I hae 
 stood on the wild shores a' Belle Isle i' the neight, and 
 heard nought but the wind and the breakers, wi' once 
 and again the cries o' neight birds and wild animals. 
 Ssh ! " 
 
 The pioneer of Labrador looked round the room and laid 
 a hand upon David's shoulder. 
 
 " Ssh ! Ye see the point here ; larbqard o' the Isle ? 
 Ye do ! Weel, that's Nasquappe Point ; you see the spots 
 and scratches runnin' frae it seaward. Weel, that is the 
 course to Wilderness Creek the impossible course to all 
 but ye and me, David. Ye see the promontory that rises 
 to the east of Nasquappe, that's Demon's Rock, the guardian 
 o' oor secret harbor." 
 
 He took from a deep pocket beneath his girdle another 
 scrap of paper which he opened and laid before his son. 
 
 "This is a sailing chart ; it shows you the course from 
 deep water of Nasquappe into the creek ; every bit o' rock, 
 every bit channel marked to a dead certainty ; no sailin' 
 master could gae wrang wi' it, and an ordinary sailor could 
 work a fishin' smack into the inner harbor wi'oot sae much 
 as a foul o' the slightest consequence. Noo, David, tak 
 these papers, and just one ither." 
 
 He folded the papers and gave them to his son. 
 
 " The ither one is hardly necessary, but landmarks are 
 landmarks, and it's weel to be safe ; this other bit shows 
 you a spot between the outlet o' Demon's Cave and a 
 clearin' ; not a clearin' by the hand o' man, but a clearin' 
 o' God's own, wi' flowers and fruits i' the summer, and when 
 we find it I mak nae doubt ther'll be the remains o' a habi- 
 tation. Ye see on this paper I hae marked distances frae 
 landmark to landmark, rock to rock, tree to tree ; just as in 
 the ithers, I set down the latitude and longitude to the 
 finest point, and proper tokens o' distance in the matter o'
 
 "ALWAYS TO-MORROW." 279 
 
 the sailing course, heights o' rocks, and something in the 
 matter o' depths o' water, and so on. And now ye are 
 thinkin' what a' this is to lead to. On the eastern shore o' 
 the inner harbor o' Wilderness Creek, at the foot o' Demon's 
 Rock, there are several graves, marked wi' memorials o' 
 such Christian burial as could be vouchsafed at the time. 
 Wilderness Creek was my anchorage when I was feightin' 
 the enemy, when I had joined our brithers of America 
 against their persecutors and mine aye, and yours, David 
 persecutors who were the death o' your mither ; persecutors 
 who trod out the life o' hearths and hames that should hae 
 been sacred to a' that men houd dear ! But I maunna 
 dwell on that. In the midst o' the graves I tell ye of, there 
 are three cairns. They 'cover three casks o' goud, precious 
 stones, silks, textiles, and ither treasures ; and there is one 
 ither, making four, that covers a more miscellaneous store, 
 spices, perfumes, God knows what. And at a point marked 
 on the third bit o' paper, on the heights above, at the north 
 of a jutting rock, a mighty bowlder, near a clump of firs, 
 ye'll find two bags o' guineas, some scrip, a bundle o 1 Bank 
 of England notes, and sundry like securities, all properly 
 testified, moneys o' your grandfather's and mine, and this 
 ye will keep exclusively for a memorial to your mither on 
 the spot where she is buried, and the rest ye'll invest for 
 your wife and bairns, if ever ye should be blest i' that way. 
 I hae a kind o' sentiment about this money ; as for the 
 casks among the graves at the foot o' Demon's Rock, I hae 
 only one condition : gie Heart's Delight a school or church 
 in honor o' Father Lavello ; the rest, spend it as ye will ; 
 be happy ; mak the name of Keith famous ; let it be known 
 honorably at Heart's Delight : mak it feared at St. John's ; 
 be generous ; be happy, and I will no burden ye wi' a word 
 or thocht o' vengeance ; indeed, I hae no advice to offer 
 ye ; no counsel. I canna offer ye my ain life as an example. 
 Mair humility, less pride, nae thochts o' vengeance would
 
 280 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 be Lavello's wish, and he is a good, honest, truly religious 
 man ; practices his preachin', and " 
 
 Here Alan paused, and fell gently back in his chair, the 
 pipe which he had held in his right hand dropped from his 
 fingers. 
 
 " What is it, father ? " David exclaimed. 
 
 Alan smiled, but did not speak. 
 
 David took his hand and chafed it. Alan's lips moved. 
 David looked into the cupboard where Alan kept his wine, 
 in the hope of finding some brandy. He found a flask of 
 spirits, and poured a little into a glass which he tasted ; it 
 was a liqueur. Just as he was about to press the glass to 
 his father's lips the old man heaved a deep sigh and moved 
 his hands. " Don't be afeard," he "whispered, " I was over- 
 wrought, I amna sae young as I was." 
 
 " Thank God, you are better," said David, " let me lead 
 you to bed, it must be morning." 
 
 " Aye, it is," said Alan, still very softly, " it's five o' the 
 clock. Ye'll find the brandy in a square bottle that looks 
 like Geneva, it's down by the right on the floor." 
 
 David started for the square black bottle and found it. 
 Alan had risen to his feet, steadying himself by the back of 
 his chair. 
 
 " I'm an auld man, David," he said, still weakly, and in 
 measured terms," but I hae toud ye a' that's necessary, and 
 to-morrow we'll lay our plans." 
 
 He took from David's hand a glass of cognac, drained 
 it, sighed, and, smiling, moved from the chair. 
 
 " I'm a' reight, David, just a bit weak. I tak it as a warn- 
 ing my mission's aboot at an end ; God has been owergude 
 to me to bring ye here toward the close ; aye, laddie, I'll 
 gang to bed ; to-morrow we'll tak' counsel aboot the sailin'; 
 to-morrow ! D'ye nae ken i* this wee bit life, David, that 
 it's a' ways to-morrow, the gude we hope for, the blessings 
 we pray for always to-morrow ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE BLISS OF LOOKING FORWARD. 
 
 A STRANGE night for David. 
 
 His father lay in an alcove of the great salon, which was 
 his share of the palace since he had come into money- 
 For hours David sat by his side and watched. 
 
 The old man slept peacefully. His breathing was regular. 
 He did not stir. There were not observable even the 
 twitchings and movements that are seen in a dog's sleep. 
 David sometimes wondered if he would wake again. 
 
 As morning began to creep in through the dusty win- 
 dows, David wrapped himself up in his coat and a rug, and 
 lay down. He had not been asleep, as it seemed to him, but 
 a few minutes when he was disturbed by the gondolier who 
 had brought in his father's rolls and coffee, with an extra 
 supply for David. The truth is the boy had only been 
 asleep an hour. It was eight o'clock. 
 
 " I knew Terese had made up a bed for you, signer," said 
 the gondolier, " but I did not know you made the night of 
 it, as you say in the English. I disturb you too early, eh ? " 
 
 " No, thank you," said David, " I shall be glad of the 
 coffee." 
 
 " Si, signer, but the master, the illustrissimo, he still 
 sleep ; ah ! then you sit up very late, it is a festival when 
 son meet father." 
 
 Alan Keith slept on. His long arms lay outside the 
 coverlet ; his face was serene ; neither David nor the 
 attendant said so, but they both thought it was beautiful. 
 The gondolier found it like one of the fine monuments in
 
 282 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 the church of San Marco. He made a remark to that effect 
 to his wife during the day. David looked at the recumbent 
 figure and was afraid. But while he gazed his father 
 awoke. 
 
 " It's a' true," he said, stretching his right arm toward 
 David, " a' true. Gie me your hand, my son. How have 
 you slept ? " 
 
 " Not too well," said David, " but I don't mind that ; I'll 
 sleep to-night. You have slept, father, the sleep of the just, 
 the sleep of the blessed. I have never seen anything 
 like it." 
 
 " Nor have I ever felt so refreshed on awakenin', David. 
 Lad, it's the first real rest I hae had sae lang as I can remem- 
 ber ; the sleep o' a tired, contented man, dreamless as the 
 dead. I was worn out, lad, dog-tired, and I just feel a new 
 man. I'm afeard I scared ye ; I was just a wee bit scared 
 mysel' ; but it was nature giving out, weary for a rest after 
 years and years o' waitin', wi' a secret that was burnin* into 
 the very life o' me, wi' a longin' beyond a' imagination. 
 David, we'll celebrate the day." 
 
 The sun came out bravely. For an hour or two it was 
 almost summer. 
 
 Alan talked of Venice, and showed it to his son with an 
 air of ownership. 
 
 They breakfasted at a caft in the Square of St. Mark's 
 more luxuriously than David had ever breakfasted before. 
 They drank their wine, and watched the busy throng, and 
 listened to the Austrian band. 
 
 Many persons saluted the picturesque old man, and smiled 
 upon him with a sort of pitying admiration. The mad Eng- 
 lishman had become almost an institution of the city, more 
 especially since his ship had come in, as Father Lavello 
 had described the opening of his banking account. 
 
 Without understanding a word they said, David could 
 gather the Venetians looked upon his father very much in
 
 THE BLISS OF LOOKING FORWARD. 283 
 
 the way he had been more than once inclined to regard him f 
 as a kindly dreamer, one whose troubles and disasters had 
 turned his head, and with a divine charity in the direction 
 of a fortune of buried treasure ; and yet his father had been 
 so explicit and so clear in his account, so definite in his 
 chart and plans, and his story filled up so much of what 
 had hitherto been blank to David, that he only doubted for 
 a moment, while he believed for hours and days ; and now he 
 began to feel anxious in the direction of Caister ; anxious, 
 to be gone even from this Paradise of the sea, to tell Elmira 
 of his great fortune and to make arrangements for a siege 
 of the rocky coast of Labrador. That, of course, was not to 
 be thought of until the first days of summer should begin to 
 loosen the icy bonds of the coast and make navigation pos- 
 sible in its most difficult waters. 
 
 "This is my son," Alan would say now and then, in his 
 queer Italian, to acquaintances and others who paused to bid 
 him good-day. They would smile and wish him well ; but 
 one or two had heard the story of the wreck and the land- 
 ing of the young English sailor. These stopped to talk and 
 chatter and shake the lad's hand. 
 
 " He will be rich," said Alan to a friend of the absent 
 Lavello ; " I am to fit oot a ship for him i' Venice, a bark 
 as tight and trim as the hand o' man can make it." 
 
 Nobody took Alan seriously, but he took their nods and 
 smiles for friendliness and good neighborship ; and so all 
 was well. 
 
 " Let us go in and thank God ! " said Alan after David 
 had feasted his eyes on the gold-fronted glories of St. 
 Mark's. They entered with others while the choir was fill- 
 ing the strangely beautiful temple with music that was 
 divine. David passed the benitier, but knelt by his father's 
 side, and his heart beat devoutly ; he wept silently, thanked 
 God for his preservation, and prayed for the blessing of his 
 protecting hand on the ocean paths that still lay before him,
 
 284 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 From St. Mark's they wandered about the city, following 
 its narrow paths, loitering in its little squares, tarrying at its 
 shop windows, and basking in the welcome winter sun that 
 shone upon Beau Rivage, whence they took a gondola and 
 floated by the palaces of the Grand Canal, coming to an 
 anchor for dinner at the little caft by the Rialto, where the 
 Turkish guardian of the ancient palace was solemnly refresh- 
 ing himself. They talked, these two, Alan and the Turk, 
 without understanding much that either of them said ; and 
 after dinner Alan incited the other frequenters of the place 
 to join him in a flagon of Chianti. Later, when the sun 
 had disappeared, and the moon had taken up the marvel- 
 ous story of the day and night, David and his father walked 
 home to their chilly room, where Terese had done all she 
 knew to make it comfortable. The lamps and the candles 
 were lighted, and, before they were well sat down in their 
 rugs and cushions, she entered with black coffee and cognac. 
 
 Father and son lighted their pipes, and then it was that 
 David unfolded to his father those experiences, engage- 
 ments, and desires that were nearest to his heart. 
 
 While David spoke of the cottage at Caister, and the 
 creek where Zaccheus hauled up his dingey, and other 
 fishermen dragged ashore their yawls, he saw, in imagina- 
 -tion, the sun shining upon it; the trackless dunes, the blue 
 sea, and the garden full of flowers more particularly the 
 seat with its figurehead and its hollyhocks with Elmira in 
 every picture. Alan sat and smoked and sipped his coffee, 
 and offered by way of comment encouraging little mono- 
 syllables, and watched the glowing face of the lad as the 
 boy's love brought the blushes to his cheeks. 
 
 " I see it a'," said Alan presently ; " dinna ye waste your 
 breath, laddie, and there's nae need for ye to blush ; she's 
 your sweetheart, Elmira Webb ; a gude lassie, the daughter 
 of a gude father. The sea maks brave, gude men, David, 
 and honest, wholesome wenches. I'll back your own heart
 
 THE BLISS OF LOOKING FORWARD. 285 
 
 to hae selected weel, and ye hae my consent reight off, and 
 God bless ye baith ! " 
 
 Alan reached out his long arm, took David's hand, and 
 pressed it with a long, fond grip. 
 
 " There's naught ennobles a man sae much as a true and 
 honest love. David, we'll mak a queen o' her ! She shall 
 deck hersel' in the finest jewels that the St. Dennis won 
 frae timid hearts to hand over to British bulldogs ; ye'll see, 
 lad ! David, I seem to hae renewed my youth sin' last 
 neight. I ken a' ye feel this minute ; ye are like the Psalm- 
 ist sighin' for wings ; and ye shall hae them, lad. There's 
 a fine, well-found ship i' port an East Indiaman bound 
 for London. We'll sail together, and ye shall tell your 
 lassie, ' This is my father,' and I'll talk wi' the man, Zac- 
 cheus Webb, aboot the men that gae doon to the sea in 
 ships. And mayhap it might be best to fit oot our bark for 
 Newfoundland at Bristol or Plymouth ; and we could then 
 tak a trip to Dartmouth and see the country where your 
 grandfather's folk hailed frae. Nay, on second thoughts, 
 that will be a good country to steer clear frae, lest we be 
 detained wi' discoveries o' the cursed brood o' Ristack and 
 the rest. I'm gaein' to be wise and discreet, with the 
 wisdom o' the serpent, as puir auld Doolan used to say ; 
 I'm just a man o' peace, David ; a man wi' a vast stake i' 
 the country oot yonder." 
 
 David, with a passing thought of how Yarmouth and 
 Caister would open their eyes at his tall and bony father, 
 with his deep-set eyes, his long, thin hands, his strange gait 
 and manner, and his curious dress, was, however, nothing 
 loath to have his companionship across the sea. He felt 
 sure that Elmira would forgive his foreign and ancient 
 looks when she knew that he was rich ; though the secret 
 of Wilderness Creek was not to be shared by mortal soul 
 outside father and son. 
 
 And so the youthful and only survivor of the peaceful
 
 286 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Morning Star, and the only survivor of the fighting brig- 
 antine St. Dennis, sailed from the quay at Venice out into 
 the Adriatic, bound for the London docks. No shadow of 
 the impending heartache and trouble that waited David on 
 his return to the scene of his looked-for happiness fell upon 
 his homeward journey. It followed the blessed dispensa- 
 tion of Providence that David should have no fore-knowl- 
 edge of the evils that awaited him, while on the back-going 
 track of Alan, his father, the flowers of forgetfulness and 
 consolation were blossoming freely and shedding sweet and 
 unlooked-for perfumes.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 THE RAKE'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " MRS. LONGFORD-WEST at home ? " asked Mr. Harry 
 Barkstead, dismounting from his horse at the hall door of 
 Filby House, a rambling two-story mansion surrounded 
 with gardens in which close-clipped lawns and orna- 
 mental yews were quaint and restful features of the 
 place. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said a smart footman, with the servile cour- 
 tesy of a town servant. 
 
 " Dobbs, put up my horse for an hour ; give him some 
 oats," said Harry, addressing Mrs. Longford-West's head 
 groom, who was passing in the direction of the stables. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Dobbs, taking charge of a chestnut that 
 was just beginning to show the effects of a hard gallop, his 
 neck wet, his mouth white with foam. 
 
 " A word with you, Mr. Barkstead," said Mrs. Cooper, 
 the housekeeper, who appeared on the scene as the hall 
 door closed. "This way, if you please." 
 
 Harry followed Mrs. Cooper, beating his leather breeches 
 just a little impatiently, and she led him into her own room 
 in the kitchen wing of the house. Here she turned on him 
 a face paled with anger. 
 
 " What is it, Mrs. Cooper ? " said Harry. 
 
 " Stop your visits to the lodge, and put no more of your 
 verses into the alder tree by the ten-acre meadow, d'ye 
 hear ? " 
 
 " Does Jessie object to my visits and my verses ? " 
 
 " I object to them." 
 
 287
 
 288 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 " But I don't go to the lodge to see you, nor do you 
 inspire my verses, Mrs. Cooper." 
 
 " No, but if you go to the lodge again to see Jessie, you'll 
 see me," said Mrs. Cooper, her lips white with passion, her 
 hands trembling. 
 
 " Shall I ? Then I won't go again, Mrs. Cooper." 
 
 " God knows if the mischief is not already done," was 
 the reply ; " if it is, look to it, Mr. Barkstead. If the girl 
 is but an orphan, she is not without friends." 
 
 " I hope not," said Harry. 
 
 " And Norfolk's not without law either, for that matter, 
 and Justice Barkstead, though he's your father, will hardly 
 see even his son bring ruin upon the helpless and the 
 innocent, though, if report does not wrong you, there's 
 many a girl that could accuse you." 
 
 Having mastered her first emotion, Mrs. Cooper found 
 her words come freely, and the more she said the more she 
 felt she had to say. 
 
 " Indeed," said Harry. " Did Mrs. Longford-West know 
 that you were going to honor me with these pleasant 
 remarks ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; but I dare say she knows you well enough not 
 to trust you any further than she can see you. She can 
 take care of herself." 
 
 " Oh, you think so," said Harry ; " shall I tell her what 
 you say ? Is the position of housekeeper at Filby House 
 so poor a place that you can afford to throw it away ? Or 
 have you feathered your nest so well that you are thinking 
 of retiring with some happy man into a snug little tavern, 
 ' good accommodation for man and beast ? ' ' 
 
 " I can afford anything, Mr. Henry Barkstead, but to see 
 my motherless niece go to the bad without an effort to 
 save her." 
 
 As she spoke she drew a necklace from her pocket and 
 flung it at his feet.
 
 THE RAKE'S PROGRESS. 289 
 
 " And there's the bauble you gave her. Take it and put 
 it round the neck of some other softie who is fool enough 
 to listen to your honeyed lies and promises." 
 
 " Very well, since you wish it," said Harry, fishing it 
 from the floor with his riding whip. 
 
 " Ah, I don't doubt ye," said Mrs. Cooper, opening the 
 door in reply to Mrs. Langford-West's bell. " Good- 
 morning, Squire Barkstead, the mistress is waiting to receive 
 you." 
 
 " Look here, Mrs. Cooper," said Harry. " I look over 
 your rudeness, firstly, because you are in anger, and sec- 
 ondly, for the sake of your pretty little niece. Good- 
 evening." 
 
 As he closed the door, Mrs. Cooper flung herself into a 
 chair and burst into tears. 
 
 Mrs. Longford-West was a rich widow. She had been 
 twice married, and scandal said she ought really to have 
 been thrice a widow, though she was only five-and-thirty, 
 and did not look her age within some years. Blonde, 
 buxom, ample of bust and figure, just tall enough not to 
 be dumpy, she was the picture of health, and had a free 
 and hearty manner that made men happy and at home in 
 her society, and most of her lady visitors ill at ease, not to 
 say uncomfortable. 
 
 She brought from her house and society in town the unre- 
 strained manners of its loosest social circles, and enjoyed 
 the confusion they created among stranger guests who 
 called upon her for the first time. Nevertheless, she man- 
 aged to make herself popular in the county. She gave 
 freely to everything and to everybody ; to the church, the 
 races ; subscribed liberally to the hunt ; patronized public 
 institutions in a generous way ; and so managed to keep on 
 visiting terms, if not with all the best families, at least with 
 such of them as were most before the public. 
 
 Sir Anthony Barkstead was her nearest neighbor, and she
 
 290 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 made a great point of conciliating his prejudices and 
 opinions as far as she was able ; for, truth to tell, she and 
 his gallant and highly educated son and heir were on the 
 very best of neighborly terms ; indeed, there were those 
 who thought it even possible that Mrs. Longford-West, if 
 anything happened to old Sir Anthony, might live to be 
 Lady Barkstead. They, who allowed themselves to specu- 
 late so far ahead in regard to the future of Mrs. Longford- 
 West, did not know the disposition and character of Harry 
 Barkstead. 
 
 " Well, so you have returned, my dear Harry," said the 
 lady of Filby House, giving him her plump, generous hand 
 to kiss. " You are more Quixotic than I think, if the west- 
 ern city had not some other attraction for you beyond see- 
 ing that poor young clerk of Petherick's off to sea. Per- 
 haps you had an engagement in Bath, eh?" 
 
 " No, I assure you, my dear Libby," said Harry, taking the 
 smiling, unresisting face of madame between his hands 
 and kissing the white forehead, " pure friendship, on my 
 honor ! " 
 
 " Swear by something more reliable, my dear Harry," 
 said the lady ; " honor is for serious, sober men, when they 
 have sown all their wild oats." 
 
 " Do you say so ? " Harry replied, sitting by her side on 
 a rather uncomfortable Italian couch, "you ought to 
 know." 
 
 "You are a brute, Harry," said Mrs. Longford-West, "a 
 perfect brute. What do you mean ? " 
 
 " That you are the most charming of widows and the 
 most generous of friends," said her visitor, "and I desire 
 to ask the most delightful of her sex to accept a souvenir 
 of that city of the west, which is distinguished because it is 
 the neighbor of the Bath, where first I had the honor of 
 meeting Mrs. Aylesbury Norton." 
 
 " You are very cruel, Harry ; you know I hate the name
 
 THE RAKE'S PROGRESS, 291 
 
 of Norton. However I came to marry into such a family, 
 Heaven only knows. I never should if I had met dear 
 Longford -West before my young heart was ensnared by 
 Aylesbury Norton." 
 
 " And to think it is only five years since all this hap- 
 pened, and I was sowing my first sack of wild oats, as you 
 would say, when I danced that first cotillion with you." 
 
 " Don't talk of time ; it was made for men who have not 
 the wit, and women who have not the beauty to defy it." 
 
 " You certainly have both the wit and the beauty, my 
 dear Libby. But here it is that little souvenir. They are 
 famous for Eastern gems and antiquities at Bristol, they 
 say. I bought this in College Green it belonged to an 
 Indian princess." 
 
 He opened a richly embossed case and drew forth a 
 quaint brooch with a diamond set in pearls. 
 
 " There do not say you are not always in my thoughts, 
 and believe me when I add that I could not go to Bath for 
 thinking of the happy days that can never return." 
 
 " My dear Harry," said the lady tenderly, " you are 
 always the same sweet, irritating, dear good fellow. It is a 
 lovely brooch, thank you so much and you may kiss me." 
 
 Harry put his arms about the ample waist and took his 
 reward heartily, declaring that he did not know what under 
 heaven would happen to him if he should lose his dear, 
 dear Libby. 
 
 "Ah, Harry, you have said the same thing to many 
 another woman," was dear Libby 's rejoinder. 
 
 " No, on my well, on my soul," he replied. 
 
 " I suppose you must be forgiven ; young men will be 
 young men ; but one day you will have to settle down, you 
 know and oh ! dear Harry, what shall I do then ? Unless 
 but there, it is not leap year." 
 
 " Only one year to wait," said Harry. " But don't let us 
 talk about settling down ; if I am not called upon to settle
 
 292 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 up, I shall not mind. Do you remember what the poet 
 says in the tragedy ? 'Widows know so much.' " 
 
 " You are a wicked scamp," said Mrs. Longford-West ; 
 " widows are poor, libeled, innocent creatures ; their only 
 fault is that they are too tender, too forbearing with the 
 men ; self-denial is their only fault. Take poor me for 
 instance. To save my life I couldn't help confessing that 
 I love you why should I, when you know it ? " 
 
 " My dear, good, generous Libby," exclaimed Harry, 
 taking another kiss from the full, liberal lips of his hostess, 
 and then rising to go. 
 
 " Why so soon ?" she asked. 
 
 "Business, dear," he said ; "business of importance at 
 Yarmouth ; a personal message to the chief magistrate 
 from Sir Anthony." 
 
 " Truly?" she asked. 
 
 " Truly," he replied. " May I ring for Dobbs to bring 
 my horse ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, if it must be so," she replied. 
 
 Harry rung, the horse was ordered, and guest and hostess 
 were about to part when Harry said, " By the way, the girl at 
 the lodge Jessie. Mrs. Cooper seems to think that a little 
 civility I paid the girl has turned her head the truth is " 
 
 "Only a little civility ? " remarked Mrs. Longford-West, 
 with a strong note of interrogation. 
 
 " My dear Libby, now that is unkind ; you know I am 
 fond of gardening and that your man Dunn has no rival as 
 a florist. I am sure Sir Anthony would give him any wages 
 if he were free, which of course he never will be so long as 
 his mistress loves flowers, and he glories in making Filby 
 House the paradise it should be with such an Eve I mean 
 such a goddess." 
 
 " Now I know there is something wrong, Harry ; you 
 are paying compliments for the mere sake of talking. What 
 is it? "
 
 THE RAKE'S PROGRESS. 293 
 
 " Well, between ourselves, that is exactly what I asked 
 Mrs. Cooper, who desired a few words with me as I came 
 in ; and all I could gather was that she wished me not to. 
 look in at the lodge any more. I hate mysteries, as you 
 know, so I thought I would mention it ; one gets the 
 reputation of being a gallant, however unworthy one is 
 of the title a Lovelace, as an old fool of a guardian 
 once called me in the Park and it is all over with a 
 fellow. Ah, well, one day, as you say, the oats will all 
 have been sown ; meanwhile, dearest Libby, au revoir ! " 
 
 " The reprobate," said Mrs. Longford-West, " the scamp, 
 the prodigal ! Oh, you goose, Libby Longford-West you 
 idiot, you foolish Clarissa ! You cannot help loving him ; 
 they may, indeed, truly say that the first sigh of love is the 
 last of wisdom ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 HE CALLED IT LOVE. 
 
 IT was a glorious day in September the roads hedged 
 with hips and haws and gay with browning leaves. The 
 sky was bright, the wind was fresh. Sportsmen were in 
 the stubbles and the turnips. The crack of their guns 
 was heard afar, and the light whiffs of smoke from their 
 burnt powder marked the occasional groups of gunners 
 following the poor brown-coated partridge. Harry was in 
 high spirits. He might have been riding forth on some right 
 worthy mission, so merry was he, talking to his horse, 
 singing snatches of old ballads, laughing now and then, 
 and returning the greetings of passers-by with a bright, 
 cheerful face that more than one mischievous wench 
 turned round to gaze upon, but never unnoticed by the 
 distinguished looking young horseman. 
 
 I'd not walk'd in that garden, 
 
 The past of half an hour, 
 When there I saw two pretty maids, 
 
 Sitting under a shady bower. 
 The first was lovely Nancy, 
 
 So beautiful and fair, 
 The other was a virgin, 
 
 Who did the laurel wear. 
 
 He trolled out Zaccheus Webb's favorite song in a jovial, 
 merry way, and later it pleased his mood to chant a snatch 
 of " The Miller of the Dee," giving more particularly full 
 emphasis to " I care for nobody and nobody cares for me." 
 
 The trot of his horse suited the measure of the rhyme, 
 and the cheeriness of the day was in harmony with the 
 song.
 
 HE CALLED IT LOVE. 295 
 
 " A dare-devil," said the toll-gate man to a carter who 
 made way for the young squire. " None more so, I've 
 heard say," was the carter's response ; and Harry, pulling 
 up his horse to gather a sprig of honeysuckle, which he 
 stuck into his buttonhole, toasted the women, as diaries 
 toasted them in Sheridan's famous comedy 
 
 Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen, 
 
 Here's to the widow of fifty ; 
 Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean, 
 
 And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. 
 
 He was encouraging his low ambition ; the ambition of 
 the gallant, the libertine, the deceiver of women. His best 
 impulses presenting themselves in opposition now and then, 
 he beat up ribald songs or started selfish thoughts to keep 
 lust and passion in the van. He was like a savage on the 
 warpath beating his tom-tom and shouting his vvarcry. 
 He regarded women with but little more consideration 
 than the sportsman he had passed regarded partridges. 
 Both were game to his mind, and his mind was common in 
 those days among bucks and dandies. Such men counted 
 their conquests as the North American Indian counted his 
 scalps. There are singular creatures walking about dis- 
 guised as honest men in these days and will be to the end 
 of time ; for God makes such things, unless it is as Mirian 
 suggested in the poem, that " the devil slavers them so 
 excellently that we come to doubt who's strongest, He who 
 makes or he who mars." 
 
 It is hardly conceivable that Harry Barkstead, fresh from 
 seeing his friend off on a long sea journey and charged with 
 sweet and tender messages to the girl who was pledged 
 to be David Keith's wife, could contemplate the villainy 
 that Mephistopheles instigated in Faust; a villainy indeed 
 a thousand times blacker, and yet a villainy not altogether 
 wholly inspired of the devil or of Barkstead's own depraved
 
 296 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 mind, but half inspired by the girl herself ; half encouraged 
 by her coquetry, her vanity of conquest, her ambition to be 
 admired, her love of dress, and her consciousness of phys- 
 ical charms calculated to attract, and therefore the more 
 necessary to be guarded, the more blessed to have for the 
 bestowal upon a true and pure love. 
 
 He called at Hartley's Row, having promised David that 
 he would do so. It would please Miss Mumford, the boy 
 had said, and Mildred Hope would be the happier for his 
 courtesy ; they would also be proud to see him. Oh, yes, 
 he called. They were both there, Mildred and Sally, both 
 looking equally sad. He cheered them with good news, 
 told them of the fine ship David had been lucky enough to 
 sail in, spoke of his comfortable berth, and made some 
 sentimental remark about the ship's name that quite took 
 Mildred Hope, who felt for a moment in her heart great 
 heart in a small body that after all Mr. Barkstead might 
 not be so callous as she had feared. The Morning Star ! 
 Yes, it was a name of happy omen, Harry repeated ; he 
 hoped Miss Hope would forgive him for quoting a poet, 
 who was not popular in religious circles, but who really 
 was not wholly bad ; it was from the " Giaour." 
 
 She was a form of life and light, 
 That seen became a part of sight, 
 And rose, when'er I turned mine eye, 
 The morning star of Memory. 
 
 " YOJ don't read Byron, of course, Miss Hope," he went 
 on ; "I suppose Mr. Crabbe is more to your liking ? " 
 
 " I don't find time to read much," said Mildred, turning 
 her serious eyes full upon him, "but I have read Mr. 
 Crabbe, and I know Aldborough. His books are quite 
 recognized, I hear, in London. We know little of them 
 here, where we should know them best." 
 
 " Rather prosy to be called a poet," said Harry, " but 
 means well."
 
 HE CALLED IT LOVE. 297 
 
 " No doubt," said Mildred. 
 
 " I suppose you will be going to Mr. Webb's, sir," 
 remarked Miss Mumford. 
 
 " Well, yes," said Harry, " I thought of riding over now. 
 My first business in Yarmouth was to call and see you, and 
 give you David's last messages his love, you know, and 
 best wishes, and his desire that you should keep up good 
 hearts about him, and so on ; and then he charged me to 
 tell Elmira Miss Webb, I suppose I ought to say that he 
 will look forward to his return as the happiest day of his 
 life, and all the rest of it. You know the kind of thing a 
 lad would say, Miss Hope, under the circumstances." 
 
 Harry's good spirits and the flippant way in which he 
 delivered his messages, the gayety of his manner, the fop- 
 pishness of his velvet coat, his gold-headed riding whip, 
 his clanking spurs, were out of harmony with the feeling 
 (?f the two women, and a kind of rebuke to their environ- 
 ment. 
 
 Poor Sally Mumford, her heart full of love and anxiety 
 for David ; and Mildred Hope, all sympathy for her friend, 
 and with that deeper unspoken love for the lad that Sally 
 only half suspected ; they found no ready response to the 
 young squire's messages and comment. There was an 
 awkward pause, during which he tapped his pearl-buttoned 
 gaiters and said he must go now, his mare was a little fret- 
 ful, and he thought he must give her a rest at the Norfolk, 
 and drive over to Caister with his messages to Zaccheus 
 and Miss Webb. Did they think he should find them at 
 home? 
 
 Mildred thought Zaccheus would be fishing. She saw 
 the Scud off Gorleston in the early morning, and the Yar- 
 mouth men had mostly put out the day before. 
 
 "And Miss Webb?" said Harry, "have you seen 
 her?" 
 
 " Not since Sunday," said Mildred; "she was at church."
 
 298 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 " In a fine new gown," said Miss Mumford, " and a hat 
 fit for a duchess." 
 
 "You don't approve of Elmira's fine feathers," said 
 Harry. 
 
 " There's time and place for everything," said Sally, 
 " and with David away I must say I did think the girl he 
 has engaged himself to might have considered it in her hat 
 and gown." 
 
 Sally spoke a little impulsively, set on to be critical, not 
 so much on account of Elmira's finery, as by reason of the 
 something flippant and thoughtless, to say the least, in 
 the manner of Mr. Barkstead's remarks about David. 
 
 " But young ladies, and especially pretty ones, Miss 
 Mumford, have a license in the matter of their toilet, and 
 Miss Webb always dressed a little above her station." 
 
 " More's the pity," said Sally. 
 
 " David likes to see her in pretty gowns," said Mildred, 
 addressing her friend Sally, " and she has taste, everybody 
 must admit that. Poor Elmira, she has a good heart, and 
 she is right to try and be cheerful. Did you notice how well 
 she sung in the fisherman's hymn, as they call it a sup- 
 plication for those at sea ? " 
 
 " Oh, I have nothing against the dear child," replied 
 Sally, regretting the words she had spoken ; "give my love 
 to her, Mr. Barkstead, if you see her, and me and Miss 
 Hope have it in mind to pay her a call to-morrow, and per- 
 haps she will come to tea on Sunday after church. But I 
 will ask her that myself. And you need not mention that 
 I thought her too gayly dressed ; it might hurt the gel's 
 feelings, and Heaven knows I don't wish to do that." 
 
 "I'm very unhappy," said Sally, when Barkstead had 
 jangled his spurs along the Row, and mounted his horse, 
 "about Elmira; I'm afeard this young man is heartless, 
 and I never believed in the truth of his friendliness for our 
 dear David. It's an awful thing for a gel to be without a
 
 HE CALLED IT LOVE. 299 
 
 mother ; and that Charity Dene's no good ; not a ha'porth 
 of sense. As for Zaccheus, why he's away for hours, and 
 sometimes for days. What's to hinder a designing young 
 man like this reckless, prodigal squire, with his fine manners 
 and his grand ways, from making a fool of the lass, when 
 she meets him halfway with her vanity and fal-lals?" 
 
 "Comfort you," said Mildred. " Elmira has far more 
 sense than you think ; besides she is proud, very proud ; 
 in such a girl pride is a good thing, and she loves her father ; 
 furthermore, she is engaged to be married." 
 
 " I don't care, I wouldn't trust her out of my sight if I 
 was her mother or her aunt or foster, or whatever it might 
 be ; she knows little more than how to do her hair and wear 
 her clothes, and she gives her mind to that only to mak folk 
 gossip and set the men a-staring. You talk of her singin' 
 in church ; didn't you see every young feller there, as we 
 came out, stare at her, and some of the old ones too ? And 
 she just knew all about it. I've no patience with such 
 ways, and especially when iverybody knows that our David, 
 poor lad, is gone to sea and would break his heart if he 
 thought she gave cause for a light word to be said about 
 her while he was away. It's bad enough when he's at home 
 to look after her." 
 
 " Poor David ! poor Elmira ! " was Mildred's response ; 
 " we must pray that God will guard the motherless child. 
 I will go and see her every day ; she will often listen to 
 me ; there is much good in the girl's heart." 
 
 "And much vanity," said Sally. " I fear David, with his 
 trusting soul and his faith and honor, has sorrow in store 
 there yes, I do." 
 
 Then Sally began to cry and Mildred made an ingenious 
 feminine effort to soothe her ; and all the while Harry 
 Barkstead was making his way to Caister, not driving, as 
 he at first intended, but sitting in the stern of the Swallow, 
 which he had found at the jetty with one of Webb's men,
 
 300 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 bound for the cottage with some fish and groceries and 
 other trifles that Zaccheus had ordered him to procure and 
 deliver at the old house on the dunes, with a message that 
 " he mought or he mought not come ashore as the case 
 mought be." 
 
 It was sunset by the time the Swallow ground her keel 
 upon the shore at Caister. A light mist was stealing over 
 the hillocks. The sea was sighing along the sands in long, 
 low waves. Harry assisted the fisherman to haul up the 
 boat. Charity Dene came down from the cottage, her 
 apron over her head. " She was main glad to see the squire ; 
 and mighty sure as Miss Elmira would be the same. Miss 
 Elmira had been that lonely she'd lighted a fire in parlor 
 and set her a-practicing of the spinet, and they'd 'a' been 
 expecting of Mistress Mildred Hope ; so in the meantime 
 Miss Elmira was playin' of herself and had ben a-singing 
 only just that minnit, as she was a-hopin' her father ud be 
 comin' later on to supper." 
 
 And sure enough, while they were walking up to the 
 garden gate, Elmira's voice was heard faintly, and she was 
 singing, 
 
 " I was down in Cupid's garden, 
 
 For pleasure I did go, 
 To see the fairest flowers 
 That in the garden grow." 
 
 Elmira had heard that Harry Barkstead had returned ; 
 but it cannot be said for a certainty that the fire in the 
 parlor, the new autumn dress, the bunch of flowers on the 
 table, and the song of Cupid's Garden were for him. At 
 the same time it was reasonable to expect he might call ; 
 and David would like his friend to be fittingly received. 
 
 Harry bestowed upon the hand put forth to greet him a 
 long lingering pressure ; and when Elmira protested that 
 he would be shaking hands all night, he sighed and 
 exclaimed, " Ah ! if it might be forever ! "
 
 HE CALLED IT LOVE. 301 
 
 Then he leaned pensively against the window and looked 
 out into the garden, and likened the drooping and frost- 
 smitten flowers to his own blighted hopes. 
 
 Elmira said she was sorry that parting with David had 
 made him so sad. 
 
 Harry in reply said he envied David almost to hating 
 him. 
 
 Elmira did not ask for David's messages, but remarked 
 that she did not know why Harry should envy David. 
 The gentleman born did not usually envy the lad who came 
 of ordinary parents, and had his way to make in the world. 
 Elmira said this with a little laugh of derision. 
 
 Harry replied that love leveled all ranks, and that 
 beauty elevated the lowliest swain, and with other fine 
 phrases gradually brought Elmira round to thoughts of 
 Harry and not of David. 
 
 It is true they did speak of David. Every now and then 
 Harry would drop a word or two of news from Bristol 
 how happy David was at going, while in his place he 
 (Harry) would not have left the woman he was going to 
 marry for all the gold of an Eldorado. But David was a 
 practical fellow ; he was like the happy common people ; 
 he thought of a house for his love with some bits of furni- 
 ture ; was as happy as Tom, the fisherman, sitting with his 
 Poll on his knee the day before the wedding. David sent 
 all kinds of fond messages ; oh, yes, he did that ; so did 
 one of the sailors send his love to Jemima by a rough chap 
 from Cardiff, and there was very much of the same kind of 
 vulgar sincerity in David's messages. " Tell Elmira I 
 know the sort of house she likes ; tell her I mean to take 
 her to London for the honeymoon " poor chap, he would 
 be like a fish out of water in London " ah, well, he's a 
 good boy, means well, and really believes he is in love." 
 
 After a little while, Elmira, who had begun by being 
 somewhat prim, sat down by Harry, on the old chintz-
 
 302 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 covered sofa, and permitted him to hold her hand as he 
 described London to her, and Cheltenham, and Bath, and 
 then chatted of Paris and the German spas, dropping in a 
 sighing regret that girls would be in such a hurry to get 
 engaged to be married, before they had seen the world and 
 knew something of life ; marriage brought troubles and 
 responsibilities; all" very well, of course, when a girl had 
 enjoyed herself a little. And besides, how did a girl know 
 whether she was really in love with a man until she had 
 seen some examples of the sex ? Fancy any girl, with any 
 pretensions to beauty, confining her choice to Yarmouth ! 
 
 " And passing by the handsome and fascinating Harry 
 Barkstead," said Elmira, laughing. 
 
 " If Harry Barkstead hadn't been such a fool as to let 
 his friendship for a conceited boy stand in his way, the 
 prettiest girl in the county of Norfolk would have been in 
 his arms at this moment." 
 
 " And who may she be ? " Elmira asked, with a flash of 
 her dark eyes. 
 
 " Oh, you witch ! " Harry exclaimed, slipping his arm 
 round her supple waist and kissing her, " you will drive me 
 crazy." 
 
 " I think you are already a little gone in that direction," 
 said Elmira, struggling to her feet, her face flushed, but 
 without anything like anger in her eyes. 
 
 " Elmira, I love you ! I know I am a scamp to say so. 
 I know it is an outrage on friendship ; but I can't help 
 it " 
 
 " O Harry ! " was Elmira's only answer, though she 
 moved away from the intended embrace that was meant for 
 the conclusion of his declaration. 
 
 " You forgive me, don't you ?" he asked, as she evaded 
 his touch. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she said, " I don't see how I can be angry." 
 
 " You always knew I loved you !"
 
 HE CALLED IT LOVE. 303 
 
 " How should I know when you never told me ? " 
 
 " If I had, would you now be engaged, as he says you are, 
 to David Keith ? " 
 
 " That depends." 
 
 " Upon what ? " 
 
 " Oh, don't ask so many questions. Come into the other 
 room ; Mrs. Dene will think it odd, and she is always 
 joking me about you." 
 
 "Is she?" 
 
 " Says I like you best, and thinks you are such a gentle- 
 man ! " 
 
 " I am infinitely obliged to Mrs. Dene," Harry replied. 
 
 " Oh, she is a great admirer of yours." 
 
 " Before we go, Elmira, may I come again later ? " 
 
 " How, later ? " 
 
 " If your father does not come home." 
 
 " No, sir, certainly not," said Elmira, her hand upon the 
 door. 
 
 " I have so much to say to you." 
 
 " Don't you think you have said enough for the present ? " 
 
 " Elmira," he said, gliding up to her before she had time 
 to move, and laying his hand upon her arm, " say you don't 
 hate me." 
 
 " Of course I don't," was the reply. 
 
 " Then say you love me." 
 
 " Oh ! that is a very different thing," she said, but her 
 eyes encouraged the kiss that he pressed silently upon her 
 lips, and as she left him she returned the pressure of his 
 hand. 
 
 " Charity," she said, " Mr. Barkstead has some news for 
 you from your friend Mr. David Keith ; " and then she 
 went hurriedly to her room and flung herself upon the 
 bed. 
 
 After a long talk with Mrs. Dene, Harry said he must go, 
 and he wished to say good evening to Miss Webb ; but
 
 34 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 Elmira sent him word that she had a headache and he must 
 excuse her. 
 
 " Has she relented ? " Harry was saying to himself as he 
 walked along the road toward Yarmouth. " I've known 
 impulsive women do so after the most promising interview. 
 Ah, well ! the chief pleasure of capture is in playing your 
 fish. Once fairly hooked, Mrs. Charity Dene must help me 
 with the landing net ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 HARRY BARKSTEAD'S LATEST CONQUEST. 
 
 THE hours were weeks, the weeks years to Mildred Hope 
 and Sally Mumford since David was no longer at Hartley's 
 Row, and was to be seen no more bounding across the 
 dunes to Webb's cottage, or pushing off the Swallow on 
 trips to the Flying Scud, or on afternoon sails with the 
 smack-owner's daughter. 
 
 They talked of no one else, these two women; except when 
 Mildred felt bound to remember her missionary duties. She 
 found Sally more than usually sympathetic toward women 
 whose husbands were away at sea. No tale of sorrow went 
 to Hartley's Row without relief. Sally said whatever she 
 did she did it because she was sure it would please David. 
 
 Mildred upbraided herself in her own room and upon her 
 knees for thinking so much of David ; and yet, the more she 
 tried to put him out of her thoughts, the more he would 
 obtrude. This was even so when she was at prayers. Once 
 she had done penance in a long fast and an increased prison 
 duty on account of a transient feeling of jealousy against 
 Elmira Webb. She found the face of David Keith coming 
 between her and the church, thoughts of him taking place 
 of holy reflections. She took long walks where he had 
 walked, encouraged people to talk of him, even allowed 
 Miss Mumford to continue speaking of the wish that David 
 had chosen her for his wife instead of Elmira. 
 
 Mildred Hope was in love with David ; she would not 
 have admitted it even to Sally ; nor would she have denied 
 it, being charged with it. She admitted it in her prayers, 
 and asked for forgiveness ; for was she not wedded to duty, 
 
 305
 
 306 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 to the service of the Lord ? Had she not bound herself to 
 be one of his shepherds, to watch over his flocks, to visit 
 the sick and needy, to give up her life to his mission ? 
 
 In her most intense religious moods Mildred felt as keenly 
 the sin she believed she was committing as any nun might 
 have felt under similar circumstances. And yet her love 
 had sweet, dreamy moments in which she built castles in 
 the sunny air of the dunes, with bitter moments to follow 
 when the winds blew from the north and scattered them 
 with the spume of the sea and the red leaves of the autumn. 
 
 Poor little Mildred Hope ! Why will women think they 
 are strong enough to make vows and take up duties in 
 opposition to impulses of the heart they have never felt, 
 and under the influences of which they may fall at any 
 time ? Mildred could not know her destiny any more than 
 any other woman. She had no right to cast he.r horoscope 
 and act upon her own views of the future. It had all been 
 mapped out for her, no doubt, long before she had any 
 ideas of her own. She could be charitable and religious, 
 she could visit the fatherless and the widows without vowing 
 to herself or to Heaven that she would do nothing else. Nor 
 was all this benevolent activity and self-sacrifice incompati- 
 ble with failing in love, nor with marriage, and yet Mildred 
 went about as if she had committed a crime, a sacrilege. 
 
 Sally Mumford had sleepless nights whenever the wind 
 blew more than ordinarily, and in all her moods that 
 touched David's welfare she blamed Elmira Webb. David 
 would not have gone to sea if it had not been to get money 
 for her. She had bewitched him. The lad cared nothing 
 for money until he knew her. Latterly he had thought of 
 nothing else but making Elmira a lady, buying her this 
 and the other, talked of a yacht to sail with her into foreign 
 ports, wondered if he would have money enough to buy a 
 house in London. She admitted, of course, that David 
 thought of her too, and often said his dear mother Sally
 
 HARR Y BARKSTEAD 'S LA TEST CONQUEST. 307 
 
 should have a fine house in Yarmouth market place, with 
 as many servants as Mr. Petherick, and nothing to do ; and, 
 as Miss Mumford put it, was generally off his head about 
 money, and all because Elmira was- a vain lass and wanted 
 gewgaws and fine clothes, and to live above her station, 
 and so on. 
 
 Autumn was passing into winter, and while Mildred and 
 Sally were hungering for news of the Morning Star, and 
 Sally was criticising Elmira's conduct, they had suddenly 
 to face a wreck ashore that seemed almost as pitiable a one 
 as if David's ship had gone down. Miss Mumford, in the 
 first rush of feeling, exclaimed, " I knew it would come to 
 ill ; our David has had a narrow escape ! " and then she 
 wept to think of the blow it would be to Zaccheus Webb, 
 the shock to David. Mildred had brought the news. She 
 had been to Caister twice without being able to make any- 
 one hear at the cottage, and on the third summons she had 
 seen Mrs. Charity Dene but it will be best to tell the 
 story as it occurred ; it follows, in a natural sequence, the 
 previous chapter, wherein Harry Barkstead gave Elmira 
 David's message, and his own. 
 
 It was just before the first snow fell upon the Eastern 
 coast, making the dunes all white and smooth ; it was as if 
 nature had intervened to cover up the tell-tale treacherous 
 footsteps that marked the flight of Elmira Webb ; for she 
 had fled with Harry Barkstead, and no one knew whither. 
 
 Zaccheus Webb was away at sea, detained by heavy gales. 
 He had put into a distant port ; and Sir Anthony Bark- 
 stead's son had made his latest conquest complete. Day 
 after day he had lingered at the cottage, and had won over 
 as a confederate in his suit of love Mrs. Charity Dene, who 
 had sat complacently outside the parlor door to hear him play 
 upon the spinet those old songs and quaint gavottes that 
 were full of fascination under his pliant fingers. He had 
 invited Charity to the finest wedding she would ever see,
 
 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 and so on, getting possession of the foolish housekeeper's 
 sympathy and good word; while Elmira drank in his pictures 
 of the London world, saw herself as Lady Barkstead, and 
 forgot her vows to David Keith, and even her duty to her 
 doting father, as girls have often done before, and will to 
 the end of time, under the spell of the seducer's honeyed 
 words and right gallant promises. 
 
 But surely this pretty Elmira Webb was born to carry on 
 the heritage of misery that rests with vanity and beauty i 
 There is one thing in writing about women, in telling their 
 stories, the theme is ever new. No two women are alike. 
 Under certain given circumstances you can give a good 
 guess at the conduct of the average man, but not of the 
 average woman. They love, hate, fear, marry, or live single 
 lives, but each with totally different impulses, feelings, and 
 influences. You might think you knew Elmira Webb. 
 Harry Barkstead was dead sure he knew her. Perhaps he 
 did. Anyhow you and I would have thought her pride, 
 her tact, and her common sense would have sought protec- 
 tion in a wedding ring before she became the traveling 
 companion of Harry Barkstead, to say nothing of dishon- 
 oring the name and breaking the heart of her most kind, 
 affectionate, and devoted father. 
 
 Elmira was born without the capacity to be constant. 
 Some men have not the faculty of friendship. Harry 
 Barkstead was a sensualist. He was led by his passions, 
 Elmira Webb by her vanity. But not by that alone. She 
 rejoiced in her beauty. In an Eastern slave market she 
 would have encouraged the bidding. She had no con- 
 science ; that is as far as one can judge by her conduct. 
 Yet she never vexed her father, was courteous, hospitable, 
 delighted in pleasing everybody, and was quite a thrifty 
 hand at housekeeping. What was wrong with her ? who 
 can tell ? She liked David Keith, thought she loved him, 
 while she laid her head on his knee in the Swallow that
 
 HARR Y BARKSTEAD 'S LA TEST CONQUEST. 309 
 
 night, when he told her he was going to Halifax ; but the 
 shadow of Harry Barkstead falling across her vows, she 
 rejoiced in the competition for her love, and thought of the 
 uninterrupted flirtation she might have with Harry while 
 David was away. A curious, contradictory, pretty, incon- 
 stant, merry, mischievous, provoking daughter of Eve, this 
 belle of the Eastern coast. 
 
 Elmira, without indulging in any particular introspective 
 reflections, did, in a way, argue with the situation. 
 
 David was so long away, and moreover Harry Barkstead 
 was a gentleman ; and when his father died, as he could 
 not fail to do in the course of nature, not many years hence, 
 her lover who had loved her all along from his first sight 
 of her, so he said would take possession of his estates and 
 title, and she would be a lady. How every marriageable 
 girl throughout the county and far away into Suffolk, and 
 indeed even in London town itself, would be jealous of 
 Lady Barkstead, and she would sweep past them in her 
 brocaded silks and splash them with her chariot wheels. 
 
 It was true, she admitted to herself, that David loved 
 her, but how many more might have said the same had she 
 given them opportunity ? She shut her chamber door and 
 lighted her candles, and though she shivered in the cold 
 she studied her charms before her glass and tried on her 
 daintiest things ; and more especially noted the flash of 
 the diamond cross that Harry had given her. 
 
 It was a subtle thing ^to think of, by way of a gift, a holy 
 cross set in stones that caught all the radiance of the sun 
 and stars, and seemed, even to Elmira, to give her eyes an 
 added radiance. Oh, she admired herself, this rustic 
 beauty, the fisherman's daughter ! She could ape the fine 
 lady in her very talk ; and she sang the song her father liked, 
 and Mildred could only chide half-heartedly, " It Was 
 Down in Cupid's Garden." David she was sure would 
 make an exacting, jealous husband ; he had a masterful
 
 310 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 manner, and he was over fond. Besides, what a hurry he 
 was in to get her word when he knew he would be far away, 
 as if he feared to trust her until he should return ! And 
 who knew that he ever would return ? Harry had told her 
 of their tiff, of David's boastful manner, of their walk to 
 Yarmouth that night, and how David had triumphed over 
 his gentleman friend, for while Harry would not deign to 
 let the lad feel his inferior position, yet their stations were 
 far apart, and old Petherick's clerk should not have for- 
 gotten that. Pride was a good thing when there was some- 
 thing behind it, a name or money or family ; but who was 
 David Keith ? And what ? With his common foster-mother, 
 as she called herself, and his nameless parentage ? 
 
 Harry did not say these things spitefully, but rather in 
 sorrow, as one who had tried to be gracious, kind, and true 
 to a lad whom he had liked for himself, apart from his com- 
 mon origin. When Elmira turned upon him and said her 
 station was perhaps no better than David's, Harry said 
 beauty was its own dower, its own name, its own rank and 
 fortune. He mentioned lowly girls who had shared the 
 crowns of kings. His illustrations of the summits to which 
 beauty had climbed took no note of happy marriages where 
 beauty and its consort walked hand in hand, and on Sun- 
 days sat together in the church ; they were theatrical, the 
 tales of humble women winning titles and wealth, and full 
 of bright and merry progresses though foreign lands, the 
 opera in Paris, the carnival of Venice, the festivals of Rome, 
 and the routs and balls of London. 
 
 As Harry built up .romance after romance for her fem- 
 inine edification, Elmira saw herself with white shoulders 
 and sweeping train, with hair that had been dressed by 
 Parisian artists in the mode, and she felt around her neck 
 threaded beads of pearls and diamonds. For a fisherman's 
 daughter she had a rare fancy, and a lively imagination. 
 Once she was launched in that bright, happy world of
 
 HA RR Y BARKSTEAD 'S LA TEST CONQ VEST. 3 1 1 
 
 wealth and show and music, of humble servitors and gilded 
 coaches, she felt that her fortune was made. She had 
 always known that she was never born for a humdrum wife 
 such as David Keith would assuredly desire, with his psalm- 
 singing housekeeper-foster-mother, and her praying, ever- 
 lasting sighing little Hope at her elbow, to take the very 
 life and soul out of every harmless jest. 
 
 Mrs. Charity Dene for one whole day and night had a 
 call to a sick sister beyond Ormesby. Harry Barkstead 
 filled her purse. She was very poor, and he was " such a 
 gentleman ! " Moreover, Elmira vowed she would not 
 mind being left alone. " Indeed, dear Charity," she had 
 said, " I shall like it very much. Mr. Barkstead will go 
 home to the hall, of course, and even if he did not, what 
 harm ? I have assuredly given up all thoughts of David 
 Keith, and Mr. Barkstead, as you say, is a gentleman." 
 
 Zaccheus' man of all work was on board the Flying 
 Scud. Elmira was the gracious hostess of the cottage. 
 How could she drive Harry Barkstead away. Did he not 
 worship her ? Then it was so strange and pleasant to be 
 alone with your lover, secure from prying eyes, or the pos- 
 sibility of interfering comment. And Harry was so bright 
 and merry, so natural, so handy, so handsome, so distin- 
 guished. He helped her to make the tea, and called it pic- 
 nicking ; he built up the winter fire, and called it fun. 
 Elmira put on her best lilac gown, and brought out the old 
 china service that had belonged to her grandmother. 
 
 It drove Harry wild to look upon her, so fresh and 
 happy, with her baby-waisted gown, her dark blue ribbons, 
 her rich brown hair, her white teeth, and her merry, tan- 
 talizing laugh. He had no thought for the past or the 
 future. He seemed to live a century in these short hours. 
 Elmira was the conquest of his rarest arts, the pretty victim 
 to his lure and bow. How well he knew the coquettish 
 ways of the game, the flitting to and fro, the hopping from
 
 312 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 twig to twig, the twittering of song until the trap fell 
 and the hunter had secured his prey. 
 
 "I have often taken a hand at housekeeping," he 
 said. 
 
 " No, have you ? " she replied, surrendering some trifling 
 domestic article to be put away on shelves or in the shining 
 corner cupboard. 
 
 " Oh, yes; I love picnicking, and with such a partner," he 
 went on, deftly helping her to clear the table and make the 
 hearth tidy. " Oh, if you could only have seen Jack Hinton 
 and me in the Australian bush ! " 
 
 " Have you been in Australia, then ?" she asked. 
 
 " Rather ; I should think I have," said Harry. " Jack 
 Hinton and I lived in a hut away in Western Australia for 
 over a month ; made our own beds, cooked our own food, 
 brushed up our own hearthstone ; and Jack said I was the 
 best housekeeper he ever came across. Poor old Jack ! 
 He is a peer of the realm now, and has given up fun and 
 picnicking." 
 
 " Do you mean he is a lord ? " said Elmira. 
 
 "Yes, a real live lord," said Harry. 
 
 " That's greater than a baronet, is it not ?" she remarked, 
 folding up the table cloth and putting it in the press. 
 
 "Yes, but there are rich lords and poor, my dear, just as 
 there are rich baronets and poor ones, and unfortunately 
 Lord Surbiton is poor. It's a miserable business to be 
 poor, Elmira, isn't it?" 
 
 " I suppose it is," she said, " not that I have any knowl- 
 edge of what it is ; that is, what they call poor at Caister 
 and Yarmouth." . 
 
 " No, that is what I meant," said Harry, detecting the 
 little glance of pride that Elmira turned upon him. " I 
 mean compared with having servants and carriages and 
 diamonds, and being able to do what you like and when 
 you like ; just as you will, my darling, when we drive about
 
 HARR Y BARKSTEAD 'S LA TEST CONQUEST. 313 
 
 the world together and show it what beauty is, and that 
 there is another Ellen worth the siege of another Troy." 
 
 " Ellen ! " said Elmira. 
 
 " She was a famous beauty in the years that are gone, 
 hundreds of years ago, and the greatest and bravest men 
 fought for her just as I would fight all the world for you, 
 Elmira." 
 
 Then they sat upon the old oak seat in the ingle nook 
 and Harry told her far more wonderful stories than that of 
 Ellen of Troy ; for they were of current interest, belonged 
 to the time and its ambitions, and they foreshadowed many 
 and new delights for Elmira. He also spoke of their mar- 
 riage. That would come all in good time. Not at present, 
 he said, of course. There was no beating about the bush 
 as to that. Harry was a bold wooer. He pressed his arm 
 about the girl's waist as he went on, and she looked into the 
 fire and listened. To marry at present would ruin him. 
 She did not desire that, of course ; love in a cottage was all 
 very fine for fools, but they knew better than that. His 
 father was a martinet, and had his views ; but, happily, if 
 the worst came to the worst, he could not cut him out of 
 the Ormesby estate ; that was his right. After all, that 
 was only a very small tithe of his inheritance. 
 
 " Your father would think you lowered yourself, I 
 suppose, by marrying me," said Elmira, with a flush of 
 pride. 
 
 " He has great ideas about blood and pedigree, and that 
 kind of thing." 
 
 " Well, so have I," said Elmira ; " we come of an old 
 stock, and " 
 
 "My darling," said Harry, taking her into his arms, 
 " you are lovely beauty is blood ; beauty is pedigree ; 
 beauty rules the world ; you are fit for an empress ; you 
 are my empress, my own ! " 
 
 Elmira struggled a little to free herself from Harry's
 
 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 warm embrace, but, as I said before, he was a bold wooer 
 and there were flickering shadows on the wall, and the fire 
 was in gentle competition with the twilight, which should 
 most, or least, illuminate the room. 
 
 "There, let me be now, dear," she said, straightening her 
 rumpled hair ; "you are really too bad." 
 
 " Forgive me, sweet," he said. " Why did selfish med- 
 dling fools make ceremonies and forms? I love you ; you 
 love me ; is not that enough ? You do love me, do you 
 not?" 
 
 She was standing by the fire, leaning against an arm of 
 the settee. 
 
 " Yes, I do, Harry, but " 
 
 " ' But ' is the plague, the kill-joy of youth. I want you to 
 trust me, Elmira. I swear to you by all that is good and true 
 I will never leave you, never be unkind to you, give you all 
 you can desire, never lose a chance, whatever it cost, to 
 make you happy." 
 
 Then suddenly turning his face away, he said, " As I live, 
 that sneaking little prison visitor has just opened the gar- 
 den gate. Quick, fasten the door ! " 
 
 He hurried her into the passage, the key was inside the 
 door ; he locked it and took out the key. 
 
 " There," he said in a whisper, " let her knock until her 
 arms ache there is no one at home." 
 
 He stole his arm about her and drew her gently aside in 
 the shadow, where they could not be seen or heard ; and 
 the next moment there was a knock at the door, a quiet, 
 inviting, apologetic kind of knock. It received no reply. 
 Again Mildred tapped the door with the handle of her um- 
 brella. Harry laughed quietly, and kissed his unresisting 
 companion. The situation amused him. Perhaps Mildred 
 had come with news of David. So much the better that 
 she should not hear it. Rap-rap-rap on the door. Harry 
 made it the signal to again embrace his pretty hostess.
 
 HARR Y BARK-STEAD 'S LA TEST CONQUEST. 315 
 
 She dared not push him aside for fear of making a noise. 
 Once more Mildred rapped, and then all was silence. She 
 had evidently gone away. 
 
 " It is unkind to let her go," whispered Elmira, " she has 
 to walk all the way back to Yarmouth, and might have liked 
 a cup of tea." 
 
 " Shall I go and call her ? " he asked, pretending much 
 alacrity to do so if she wished. 
 
 " No, no," said Elmira, detaining him. 
 
 " Ah, then you do love me ! " he exclaimed. " My sweet, 
 my Elmira ! " 
 
 The twilight deepened into night. 
 
 The firelight reddened the walls of the old living room of 
 Webb's cottage. 
 
 Elmira closed the shutters. Harry said there was no 
 need to light the lamp. 
 
 Just above the shutters where the woodwork left a pane 
 visible, a star shone through. The hum of the sea could be 
 heard without. 
 
 It was a lovely, starlight night. Alan Keith, sighing to 
 his son, said it was alwa) 7 s to-morrow. But to-morrow does 
 come to many. It comes to the bankrupt ; it comes to the 
 condemned criminal ; it came to Elmira Webb ; it had come 
 before to Harry Barkstead ; but this was Elmira's most 
 memorable morrow, and it came in with a watery sun ; it 
 came with a sighing of the sea ; it came with little shudder- 
 ing winds across the dunes. 
 
 It was a cold morning, yet the sun was shining upon the 
 cottage. It had been noticed by one or two passers-by, 
 friends of the Webbs, that the shutters were not down at 
 ten o'clock. 
 
 Soon after that hour, a man's hand cautiously pushed 
 open the lattice of Elmira's window, and Harry Barkstead 
 looked out. The hollyhocks by the garden seat were 
 drooping, the nasturtiums were black with frost, shadows
 
 3*6 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 were flitting over the sea, the clouds were darkening, the 
 sunshine was fitful. 
 
 The blinds being drawn, the window was closed. The 
 same cautious hand that opened the chamber lattice now 
 undid the shutters of the house place and let in the day- 
 light upon a fire that was still burning. Harry stirred it. 
 He was in his shirtsleeves. He looked round for the 
 kettle, went into the backyard, filled it, and hung it upon 
 the bar over the fire. Very prosaic and common all this 
 after the sunset, the twilight, the flickering shadows on the 
 wall, the romances of the night before ! Crime, villainy, 
 deceit, profligacy, have all their mean, common sides. 
 
 Elmira now peered at the morning from her window, and 
 saw the same scene that Harry had contemplated, but with 
 different eyes and different thoughts. She began saying 
 good-by to it ; she knew she was looking upon it for the 
 last time for many years, perhaps for ever. The sentiment 
 touched her a moment, and she felt a pang of remorse when 
 she thought of her father. She was very quiet ; moved 
 about the room with a sense of whispering. While she 
 dressed she laid aside certain things of apparel for packing. 
 
 Harry had roughed it many a time on hunting expedi- 
 tions, and he had lived under canvas, but he felt the vul- 
 garity of this morning's picnic. He washed at the pump 
 in the yard, made his toilet generally under miserable 
 conditions, found himself actually tidying the room, push- 
 ing the gray ashes under the fire grate, and brushing some 
 crumbs from the kitchen table. He had the heart to wish 
 himself at Ormesby Hall or in his snug rooms in town. 
 Then he wished he could recall yesterday, and was sorry 
 for all that had happened, not for Elmira's sake, but as the 
 profligate surfeits with possession. 
 
 Then he heard Elmira descending the stairs. He stepped 
 aside, and went for his coat. When he returned she was 
 feeding a robin that had perched upon the window sill.
 
 HARR Y BARKSTEAD 'S LA TEST CONQUEST. 317 
 
 She might have been the veriest saint, to look upon and 
 oh, the pity of it ! There was an expression of melancholy 
 in her dark blue eyes. Her brown hair was gathered up 
 at the back of her small head. She wore a light print dress, 
 with short sleeves, and belted in at the waist. A simple 
 brooch fastened the dress at her neck. She was unusually 
 pale, but her lips were red, and they seemed to pout with a 
 half-grieved waywardness that was tenderly expressive, 
 inviting sympathy. 
 
 Harry took both her hands in his and kissed her white 
 forehead, with an incongruous air of respect and reverence. 
 
 " Good-morning," she said, " the robins are coming, it 
 will soon be winter." 
 
 A few light particles of snow fell as she spoke. 
 
 " We will go where the sun shines always," said Harry, 
 " and where the robins are nightingales." 
 
 " But first to London, you said ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, to London first." 
 
 Elmira began to move about the room and busy herself 
 with her domestic work. Mrs. Charity Dene being out of 
 the way, Harry saw Elmira in an entirely new light. She 
 went about her work in a simple, graceful way, a little self- 
 conscious, but as one who brought an artistic charm even 
 into the commonplace business of preparing breakfast. 
 Harry tried to help her, fetching and carrying in a useless 
 way, and finally sitting in a corner of the ingle nook and 
 admiring his little wife, as he called her, adding, " For you 
 are, dear, just as surely as if we had pledged ourselves to 
 each other in church or chapel." After breakfast they 
 walked across the dunes, away from beaten tracks, and all 
 day long the snow fell at intervals between bursts of sun- 
 shine. At sunset Harry Barkstead's man arrived with a 
 light cart and carried away Elmira's trunks ; and during 
 the night, the snow hushing the tread of their horses' hoofs, 
 Harry and Elmira posted to London.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE COUNTRY BEAUTY IN TOWN. 
 
 ELMIRA WEBB had not overestimated her personal attrac- 
 tions. Unsophisticated as she was in regard to London 
 life, with no practice in coquetry except upon such gallants 
 as came in her way down in Norfolk, she had nevertheless 
 pictured herself the leader in some such set of London 
 belles and beaux as Harry Barkstead had described to her. 
 She expressed no surprise at the London streets, the gay 
 equipages, the liveried servants, the wond'erful shops, the 
 aristocratic bearing of the West End crowds. Anyone 
 might have thought she had been accustomed to such sights 
 and such society all her life. She shopped and discussed 
 millinery with the most fashionable modistes with perfect 
 sang-froid. 
 
 On her first night at the opera she created a sensation 
 among the set in which young Barkstead was a persona 
 grata. Harry was both proud and jealous of the admira- 
 tion she excited. Elmira was apparently innocent of the 
 fact that she divided with the prima donna the attention of 
 a large proportion of the boxes. 
 
 The town was quite taken with the new beauty, so fresh 
 and young and striking. Elmira surveyed the house with 
 well acted indifference, but her heart beat fast and furi- 
 ously with a sense of triumph. The old house at Caister, 
 and Zaccheus her father, were for the time being forgotten. 
 She never once remembered David Keith. Harry Bark- 
 stead little thought what a handful of trouble he had under- 
 taken in bringing the country beauty to London. 
 
 She received every visitor with a gracious ease and inter- 
 
 318
 
 THE CO UN TR Y BE A UTY IN TO IV N. 3 1 9 
 
 ested geniality that captivated both men and women. Her 
 one object in life seemed to be to give pleasure to all who 
 came within the range of her personal magnetism. Every 
 man thought he had made a deep impression upon her ; 
 every woman confessed that the country girl was at any 
 rate modest and unaffected. Lord Grennox was smitten 
 to the very thing he called his heart. He was twice Bark- 
 stead's age, and had ten times his wealth. He was a married 
 man, but his wife was very complaisant, and " received " in 
 a very miscellaneous way. 
 
 Lord Grennox visited Elmira's box twice during the 
 evening, and insisted upon Barkstead bringing mademoiselle 
 to Beulah House, which Harry did on the very next day, 
 not that he was anxious to do so, but Elmira would not 
 let him rest until he had responded to his lordship's invita- 
 tion. Lord Grennox was notorious for his amours. He 
 was, nevertheless, a leader in the fashionable world, even a 
 favorite at court. Lady Grennox was one of the most 
 charitable women of her time, foremost in every benevolent 
 work. Grennox himself was popular at White's and 
 Boodle's, and he had been known to give a voluntary ad- 
 vantage to a bad loser, when play ran high at Crockford's. 
 On the whole he was what men called a good fellow, and 
 woman ."a very dangerous man, my dear"; he knew as 
 little about virtue, and cared less, than most men of his class 
 in the fashionable world of his time ; not that the age in 
 which we live is overscrupulous in condoning social 
 breaches of the moral laws that are supposed to govern 
 society. As there was half a century ago, and before then, 
 and as there will be no doubt in the centuries to come, there 
 is a good deal of bowing to virtue and passing it by. 
 
 There were no half measures about the peccadilloes of 
 Lord Grennox. 
 
 Before Elmira had been in town a month she had taken 
 leave of Harry Barkstead and sailed away to those conti-
 
 320 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 nental cities he had told her of, under the protection of 
 Lord Grennox. Why should she consider Harry Bark- 
 stead ? He had not married her, nor did he intend ever so 
 to do. She had not bound her life to his in any way. He 
 had no claim upon her. He had not honored her with 
 his society for her pleasure but for his own. Lord Grennox 
 had consented to settle upon her such an income for life as 
 would make her independent of both his lordship and 
 Harry Barkstead. 
 
 Elmira had accepted his lordship's proposal, and had 
 obtained proper legal assistance to insure the deed of 
 endowment being properly executed and with bona fide 
 trustees. She was a woman of business, and in a very short 
 time had met other women of business in town who had 
 given her good advice, and men of business too, one of 
 them having relations with Norfolk, and all of them pos- 
 sessed of a full knowledge of the immense wealth of Lord 
 Grennox. She was a born adventuress, this Elmira of the 
 East Coast a Pompadour, a Delorme, a Castlemaine ; she 
 would have held her own in competition with the finest 
 ladies of the Second Charles, as she held her own when 
 Victoria was among the most delighted of the audiences at 
 Covent Garden and Drury Lane. 
 
 Though dueling was beginning to decline even among 
 army men as a mode of satisfying wounded honor, it was 
 sufficiently the mode to justify Harry Barkstead in sending 
 a friend full speed after Lord Grennox with the demand of 
 an immediate meeting. Society, and certain journals that 
 reflected the worst phases of its life and character, found 
 the disappointment of Barkstead a matter for much gossip 
 and amusement ; and of course it was taken for granted 
 that the young Norfolk gentleman would not sit down 
 tamely under the injury which he had suffered at the hands 
 of the gayest and cleverest Lothario of his time. Nor did 
 Harry intend to do so ; but meanwhile fate had other busi-
 
 THE CO UN TR Y BE A UTY IN TO WN. 3 2 1 
 
 ness in store for the false friend who had matriculated for 
 a reputation quite as scandalous as that of Lord Grennox. 
 
 Harry received a message from his father to go down 
 immediately to Ormesby Hall on the pain of disinheritance 
 and other punishments. So, while his ambassador of war 
 sped on his way to France and Italy, Harry Barkstead took 
 the coach to Yarmouth, a prey to the varied passions of 
 pride, hate, unrequited love he still called his passion for 
 Elmira love and fears of bankruptcy. He had of late not 
 only far exceeded in his expenses the liberal allowance of 
 his father, but he had contracted financial responsibilities 
 that he could not meet without a special grant, and his bills 
 had begun to accumulate in hands the least reputable 
 among money-lenders. What he most feared however was 
 Sir Anthony's anger over the affair of Elmira Webb. His 
 father was rich enough to meet the financial claims that 
 pressed upon him, and had rescued him from the accom- 
 modating Jews before ; but he had a personal regard for 
 the smacksman of Caister, and might bitterly resent the 
 seduction of old Webb's daughter. Harry's forecast of the 
 agenda paper of his sins, which his father Justice Bark- 
 stead, as the common people called him had prepared 
 against him was beside the mark.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 " SIR, YOU ARE A BLACK-HEARTED SCOUNDREL ! " 
 
 IT was winter at Ormesby Hall when Harry Barkstead 
 arrived. He had half a mind to call on Mrs. Longford- 
 West before facing his father. A passing thought of the 
 girl Jessie, however, deterred him. He did not know what 
 might have happened at the Lodge since his interview with 
 Mrs. Cooper. He had a sneaking feeling of regard for 
 Mrs. Longford-West, badly as he had treated her, and felt 
 no doubt that, when he had got through with his father, he 
 would be able to obtain the widow's forgiveness for his 
 latest freak. He called it a freak now, his running off with 
 David's sweetheart ; counting in his reckless way the heart- 
 break of Zaccheus as nothing more than the misery he had 
 brought upon David his friend. As for his father well, 
 Sir Anthony had been a young man once, and that must be 
 his answer ; at all events he had not disgraced the name of 
 Barkstead by marrying some loose woman; he had made no 
 mesalliance, his name was still clear from social disgrace. 
 He was seriously in debt, and had raised money at a 
 ruinous interest, but every young fellow of means, preten- 
 sions, and prospects had done that. 
 
 " I am glad you saw the propriety of an immediate 
 response to my summons," said Sir Anthony, on receiving 
 Harry in the library at Ormesby Hall. 
 
 Sir Anthony spoke with his judicial manner. He looked 
 upon his son for the time being as a culprit. Sir Anthony 
 had dressed himself for the occasion. He wore his tightest 
 brown coat, his most severe stock, and his bunch of seals 
 
 3 aa
 
 " YOU ARE A BLACK-HEARTED SCOUNDREL!" 3^3 
 
 rattled on his thigh as he stood before the blazing fire and 
 contemplated his handsome but dissipated son. 
 
 They were in strong contrast, the two men. 
 
 Harry was pale, his eyes sunken, his manner nervous. 
 He had suffered mentally of late as well as physically. 
 
 His father was short in stature, thin, wiry, his complexion 
 brown and a trifle ruddy, his hair iron-gray, his manner 
 alert though firm, and his resolutions, whatever they were, 
 fixed. 
 
 Harry gave back to him his defiant gaze, but Sir 
 Anthony's eye was the more steadfast of the two. He 
 spoke in a hard, set way. 
 
 "Harry Barkstead," he said, "you are on the road to 
 perdition ; you have resisted every check that good advice 
 and parental affection have offered to you." 
 
 " I am sorry, sir, to have so gravely offended you," said 
 Harry. 
 
 " It is a hard thing to say, but it is as just as it is true. 
 Your ill conduct shortened the days of your mother." 
 
 " Yes, that is a hard thing to say," Harry replied. 
 
 " But it is a harder thing to have justified it. You have 
 since then made a convenience of my affection. You have 
 used me. You have disregarded my views for you ; you 
 have made light of my opinions ; you have looked upon me 
 as you might upon some cheap money-lender ; and when 
 you could trade upon my weakness no longer without a 
 truce, you have come down here and pretended a filial duty 
 you have never felt and submitted to a companionship you 
 have not cared for." 
 
 " My dear father, you wrong me. I am a bad lot, no 
 doubt, but I have always had a deep and intense regard 
 for you, and a true respect and gratitude for your kind- 
 ness." 
 
 " There was a time when words such as those would 
 have weighed with me ; they do so no longer ; words are
 
 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 all very well, but deeds are the test of affection ; they 
 are the tokens of filial love deeds, my son, deeds ! And 
 what are your deeds ? There are profligates and profligates, 
 spendthrifts and spendthrifts. In your profligacy I find no 
 redeeming feature ; you are a common seducer and a liar !" 
 
 " Father ! " exclaimed the son, pale with suppressed 
 emotion. 
 
 " You have practiced your villainies with a systematic 
 guile, and with a vicious disregard of every manly senti- 
 ment." 
 
 " By Heavens, Sir Anthony, I cannot listen to such lan- 
 guage even from you ! " said Harry. 
 
 " But by Heaven you shall listen ! " said Sir Anthony. 
 " What sort of language did you use to entice Jessie Barnes 
 from honor, peace, and happiness ? Or were you content 
 with mere promise and flattery ? I am told that these 
 were not alone the artifices you used against that poor 
 orphaned and sweet child. Sir, you are a black-hearted 
 scoundrel ! And by the Heaven you have the audacity to 
 appeal to, you shall make restitution ! " 
 
 While Harry winced at the strength of his father's invec- 
 tive he felt a certain amount of relief in the fact that the 
 storm was likely to break upon the unimportant head of 
 Jessie Barnes. It was evident that his father had as yet 
 heard nothing of the affair of Elmira Webb. Nor had he ; 
 for truth to tell, no one cared to mention it to him. Most 
 people in Yarmouth, and all about Caister, knew of it. 
 Mrs. Longford-West had heard of it ; but Sir Anthony was 
 perfectly ignorant of what had taken place. It was 
 nobody's business in particular to tell him ; and nobody 
 had ventured to do so ; even Zaccheus Webb had held his 
 peace ; to him the shock of his girl's base ingratitude had 
 come with a dull thud that had left him more or less stu- 
 pefied. He had gone about his work with a lack-luster eye, 
 had returned the " good-days " of his friends and acquaint-
 
 "YOU ARE A BLACK-HEARTED SCOUNDREL!" 325 
 
 ances with a nod and a melancholy smile, but had said 
 nothing, except to Mrs. Charity Dene ; and to her only a 
 few words which he repeated with little or no variation 
 " She'll come hum, Mira will ; but where's Mas'r David 
 Keith ! " 
 
 " What restitution ? " asked Harry. 
 
 " Jessie Barnes," went on Sir Anthony, without heeding 
 him, " was the daughter of a soldier who died for his 
 country in the first American war ; though only a private 
 he came of a good family ; his enlistment was a piece of 
 folly but it was honorable folly, not vicious profligacy, 
 and he left a widow and one child ; the widow was your 
 mother's care until the poor woman's death ; the child was 
 brought up by her aunt Mrs. Cooper at Ormesby, where I 
 gave her a cottage ; two years ago Mrs. Cooper let her 
 cottage and went to live at Filby Lodge, Jessie having 
 grown into a pretty, gentle, and lovable girl. Yesterday a 
 child was born at the Lodge you have done me the honor 
 to make me a grandfather. You will add to that the 
 further honor of giving me an honest woman for my 
 daughter-in-law." 
 
 " I don't understand you," said Harry. 
 
 " You will marry this girl, and settle down here at 
 Ormesby as an honest gentleman." 
 
 " And be the laughing-stock of the whole country ! Why 
 you might as well marry your cook." 
 
 " By the Lord, sir, and had I behaved to my cook as you 
 have to this girl, I would marry her, sir. And you shall 
 marry the mother of your child, or you are no longer a son 
 of mine." 
 
 " My dear father," said Harry, " that sort of speech 
 might do very well for an affiliation case at the sessions, 
 but it won't do for me." 
 
 " Won't it, indeed ! And in what respect are you differ- 
 ent from the men who come before me as a magistrate in
 
 U^DER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 affiliation cases ? They are brutes of the field, ignorant, 
 lustful, poor, uninformed wretches, with no control of their 
 passions, no sense of the proprieties of life. Your crime 
 against this girl coming of quite as honorable a family as 
 your own remember that I say your crime is infinitely 
 worse than theirs ; but fortunately your position enables you 
 to condone it, to bring light out of the darkness, to make 
 honorable restitution ; and we will set an example to these 
 poor people ; we will show them that we do not preach one 
 thing and act another ; we will " 
 
 " Oh, look here, sir," exclaimed Harry, seeing at a glance 
 the effect of this humble conclusion to his career, and 
 having no feeling whatever for Jessie or her child, "look 
 here, sir ; this thing is impossible ! I am ready to confess 
 that my conduct has been wicked, and I am truly sorry 
 that you have not a worthier son ; but marry the lodge- 
 keeper's niece my dear sir, that is simply nonsense ! " 
 
 "Indeed!" said Sir Anthony, "she is beneath your 
 station, eh ? If I consider her equal to mine, I flatter 
 myself that my record is an honorable one, and I might be 
 forgiven if I felt proud of it. But yours ! Why, you are 
 not even honorable in your money affairs, let alone what 
 you call affairs of the heart." 
 
 " Oh, curse it all, sir, I have heard enough ; I am in no 
 mood to be preached at as if I was a culprit about to be 
 sentenced to be hanged ; I know what I have done ; I have 
 said I am sorry ; and I am sorry ; but I am not going to let 
 my father in his dotage make a damn fool of me ! " 
 
 "Oh, I am in my dotage, eh?" said Sir Anthony. 
 " Because I chalk out an honorable course for you, because 
 I am ready to forgive you on fair human conditions, because 
 a poor girl is to be given the rank and position she has a 
 right to at your hands, because I have the audacity to tell 
 the son who has broken his mother's heart that he 
 shall not drag his father's name in the gutter without pro-
 
 "YOU ARE A BLACK-HEARTED SCOUNDREL!" Z 2 1 
 
 test, I am in my dotage ! We shall see ! Do you deny the 
 charge made against you at Filby Lodge ? " 
 
 " I deny nothing ; I say I am sorry." 
 
 " Do you deny the paternity of Jessie Barnes' child?" 
 
 " No, and I say I am sorry." 
 
 " I will not remind you how you brought about the girl's 
 ruin, it is a wicked story ; and I repeat that there is only 
 one way for you, and that is to make the restitution I 
 desire, and which no honorable gentleman at the interces- 
 sion of his father would resist." 
 
 " And I say that I will not do it," Harry exclaimed, with 
 angry defiance. 
 
 " And I say you shall," was the quick reply. 
 
 " And I say " 
 
 " Don't dare to speak again ! " said Sir Anthony, step- 
 ping toward him. 
 
 " I will not be bullied, and I will not be bounced," said 
 Harry, beginning to pace the room. 
 
 " I neither desire to bounce you nor to bully you," said 
 Sir Anthony, stepping back to his former position by the 
 fire and standing stiffly ; " I will give you time to consider, 
 say until to-morrow." 
 
 " I require no time to consider," said Harry; " if I have 
 not my dead mother's tenderness, at least I have her pride, 
 
 and, by , I will not marry into the families of the 
 
 Coopers and the Barneses." 
 
 " Then you leave this house, now and forever ; I disown 
 you. You are no longer my son. Go, sir ! " 
 
 " Very well," said Harry, striding out of the room, and 
 leaving his father still standing firmly on the spot where he 
 had delivered the uncompromising sentence.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 A WRECK ASHORE. 
 
 JUST about the time when Harry Barkstead was entering 
 the library at Ormesby Hall to meet his father, the London 
 coach drew up at the posting house in Yarmouth. 
 
 The two most unexpected passengers were David Keith 
 and his father. They were unexpected at Hartley's Row 
 for~the reason that news of the loss of the Morning Star 
 had the day before reached Mr. Petherick, and he had con- 
 veyed the information to Miss Mumford, who had ever 
 since been in a state bordering on despair. Mr. Petherick 
 had reason to believe that a boat might have been launched 
 with men who had been since picked up, David with them. 
 Mildred Hope, in the spirit of her name, undertook to 
 cling hard and fast to that possible boat. She told Sally 
 that something in her heart whispered faith in this belief. 
 Mildred, by prayer and precept, did all she could to 
 encourage David's best friend to think of the boy as still 
 alive. But Sally remembered that she did not wish David 
 to go ; that he only went to get money for that strumpet 
 Mira Webb, and so on ; and nothing would comfort her ; 
 she knew her dear lad was gone, he was too good for this 
 world, and so on. 
 
 It happened that the coach on this occasion had few 
 passengers, Alan Keith and David alighted, the former with- 
 out being known. David was not expected ; but he 
 unwrapped himself and made himself known to the land- 
 lord and engaged a porter to see after his luggage. He 
 did not stay to introduce his father, who was enveloped in 
 furs and comforters a long, tall, strange-looking person, 
 
 328
 
 A WRECK ASHORE. 329 
 
 with gray straggling hair and bright eyes sunk deep in 
 dark sockets. 
 
 " We will just have a little brandy, father, and then I will 
 show you the way to Hartley's Row, while I run over to 
 Caister and fetch Elmira ; it would never do, you know, if 
 I did not go there first." 
 
 " I suppose not," said Alan, following him into the great 
 glass bar, flashing with bottles, decanters, and plate, a blaz- 
 ing fire enveloping them in its genial glow. 
 
 "Two brandies hot," said David, " and have you a gig ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said the landlord, who had followed them into 
 the bar. 
 
 " Will you put a horse into it ? I want to drive over to 
 Caister." 
 
 By the time they had drunk their brandy the gig was at 
 the door. 
 
 " Excuse me a minute," said David. " Come this way, 
 father; " and he took the old man's arm, and led him by a 
 back way to Hartley's Row. " You see the house in the 
 corner ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Alan. 
 
 " That's Sally's house ; the one next is where Mildred 
 Hope lives. Tell them I have gone to Caister to fetch 
 Elmira. Sure you'll be all right ? " 
 
 " Reight," said Alan ; " eh, lad, I'll be reight enough, if 
 I dinna scare Sally oot o' her seven senses." . 
 
 David watched Alan enter the dear familiar house in the 
 corner of the Row, and then darted back to the inn and 
 jumped into the gig, which he drove with a beating and 
 a joyous heart to Caister. 
 
 The wind was blowing with a shrewd, chill air across the 
 dunes. Here and there lay the remains of a heavy snow 
 that had for weeks been thick on the ground. The stunted 
 and draggled reeds in the dykes shivered by the half 
 frozen water. But David felt his cheeks glow with warmth
 
 330 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 and delight. Everything was forgotten at the moment but 
 the bliss in store for him. The happy days of his court- 
 ship seemed to pass before him in a sunny procession, not- 
 withstanding the wind and the shivering reeds, notwith- 
 standing the gray of the ocean and the white patches of 
 frozen snow. His shipwreck and even his escape, the 
 meeting with his father, his auspicious hours in Venice ; he 
 only recollected any of them for the sake of telling his 
 story to Elmira. 
 
 When he reached the cottage he tied his horse to the 
 garden gate, and pushed his way to the front door. It was 
 unlatched, and in he went. 
 
 " Hello," he shouted, " dear old Zacky, there you are ! " 
 
 " Aye, there I be, that's so," said old Webb, who was sit- 
 ting by the fire in the house place, and doing nothing to all 
 appearance but sitting there ; he was not warming himself; 
 he was not smoking. 
 
 "Are you not glad to see me?" said David, a trifle 
 damped. " Why, what's the matter, where's your hand ? " 
 
 " There he be, Master Keith, I knawed yo'd come." 
 
 The smacksman took David's hand in a listless way, and 
 looked up at him with a pair of sad, melancholy eyes. 
 
 " What's wrong ? " said David. " Where's Elmira ? " 
 
 "She'll cum hum, mak no doubt." 
 
 " Come home why, where is she ? " 
 
 "That's what I kep a-sayin'." He reached out for 
 David's hand. " I knawed yo'd come sea do spare some 
 on us ; spared me all these years." 
 
 Then he resumed his former listless manner, and looked 
 into the fire. 
 
 David felt his heart sink as it had sunk when he knew 
 that the Morning Star was about to founder. He looked 
 round the room and noticed that it had lost its former 
 bright and cheerful appearance. The hearth had not been 
 swept up. The windows were not shining. The curtains
 
 A WRECK ASHORE. 331 
 
 were draggled. On the dresser were left the remains of the 
 breakfast things. The flowerpots on the window sill were 
 dirt} 7 and the plants in them were withered. 
 
 " Zaccheus," said David, almost in a whisper, "what has 
 happened ? Where is Elmira?" 
 
 " She mought come hum to-day, and she mought stop till 
 Sunday, it be hard to say ; I reckon we mun wait." 
 
 "Is there anybody else here but you ?" 
 
 " We'n had some winter, and fishin's been mortal bad, but 
 we mun't complain ; we'n be ole reight agen when Mira 
 comes home." 
 
 " My God !" exclaimed David, trembling with suspense 
 and fear ; "where is she? What has happened ? Listen, 
 Webb, wake up ; what's the matter with you ? Wake up ! " 
 
 David slapped the old man on the shoulder. He might 
 as well have struck a post. The smacksman turned and 
 looked at David, and smiled with such unutterable sadness 
 that tears welled up into David's eyes, and he staggered to 
 a seat. 
 
 " Ah, it's a mortal grief," said Zaccheus, seeming to re- 
 alize for the first time David's anxiety; "a mortal grief, 
 better yo'd deed." 
 
 " S-s-sh ! What is the grief? " David asked, sobbing as 
 he spoke. "Tell me, Zacky. Is she dead, Elmira, our 
 Elmira ? Oh, my God, I shall go mad ! " 
 
 The old man watched the distracted lad go to the window 
 and look out as if he were looking for a grave. Then he 
 returned to where the old man sat, and dragged a seat by 
 his side. 
 
 " Zacky, dear old fellow, something awful has occurred ; 
 what is it, where is Elmira ? " 
 
 The old man laid his hand upon David's arm, and then 
 suddenly rose up with a cry and tramped about the room 
 in his great boots, making the place shake. 
 
 " Tell me," said David, following him ; " tell me ! "
 
 332 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 But Zaccheus simply sat down again and sighed, and laid 
 his hand once more upon David's arm. 
 
 "Is there no one in the house?" David asked in a loud 
 voice, and going to the staircase to repeat the question, 
 when he heard someone moving above, and his heart beat 
 wildly, but it was only Charity Dene, who came down the 
 stairs. 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! good gracious me ! " she exclaimed. " Well, 
 I never ! And they said yesterday in Yarmouth you were 
 drowned. Well, well ! " 
 
 "What is the matter here ?" David a'sked. 
 
 " With the master ? This is his queer day, he's regular 
 daft a Saturdays, it was a Saturday when he come hum and 
 found as she'd gone." 
 
 " Who'd gone ? " asked David, as well as he could, with 
 a dry tongue, that clove to the roof of his mouth. 
 
 " Why, Elmira, of course," said Charity Dene. 
 
 " Gone ? W T here ? " asked David. 
 
 " Why, gracious me ! Don't you know all about it? Should 
 ha thowt everybody know'd by now." 
 
 "But you see I have only just returned," said David, 
 trembling as if he had been struck with a palsy. 
 
 " Why, of course, what a fool I be for sure. She'n been 
 gone more'n a month, six weeks, I dessay. Went off wi' 
 young- Barkstead to London." 
 
 " Woman, what do you mean ? " said David, staggering 
 to the stairway, and gripping the doorpost. 
 
 " What do I mean ? Why, eloped, I suppose ; they took 
 their luggage and went by coach." 
 
 " Married ? " David asked presently. 
 
 " Lor, not as I knows on," said Charity Dene. " But there, 
 I mun get master his tea ; will yo' stay and ha* some wi' 
 him ? It 'ud be a comfort to him. He isthat lonely, nobody 
 takin' no notice on him except Miss Mildred Hope, as 
 looks in once in a blue moon to sit wi' him, and once
 
 A WRECK ASHORE. 333 
 
 or twice have tea ; but you looks very white ; aint yo' 
 well ? " 
 
 " Not very," said David, pushing past her and into the 
 garden. " Let me think ! " he said, " Lord have mercy 
 upon me ! " 
 
 He sat in the seat beneath the figurehead of the wrecked 
 East Indiaman, his hand upon his heart as if to keep it in 
 its place. For a minute or two he felt as if he were suffo- 
 cating. Suddenly he rose up, and walked out upon the 
 dunes and down by the sea. After awhile he felt better and 
 returned to the house. 
 
 " Did she go of her own free will ? " David asked, the 
 woman answering him while she was cutting bread and but- 
 ter, the tea things being already laid. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " 
 
 " Did he visit her here for some time first ? " 
 
 " Constant ; he was allers a-hanging about after her." 
 
 " Did Zaccheus know ! " 
 
 " Well, he were a-fishin' most of the time, and when they 
 went off together yo' see he'd been caught in gales and 'ad 
 to put into somewheres or other, and was delayed, and 
 young Squire Barkstead he were a bould wooer, that he 
 were ! " 
 
 " Oh, curse you ! " exclaimed David. " Damn you ! " 
 
 " Well, I'm sure ! " said Mrs. Dene. " Yo'd better mend 
 yore manners, young man, I'm thinking." 
 
 She turned about to fling this remark at her questioner, 
 but he was gone.
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 A SURPRISE FOR HARTLEY'S ROW. 
 
 "BEG pardon ! are you Miss Mildred Hope? "asked a 
 tall strange man, encumbered with a fur coat and cap and 
 speaking with a curious Scotch accent. 
 
 Alan Keith, as he entered the bright particular corner 
 where Sally's green shutters, white blinds, and brass knocker 
 gave distinction to Hartley's Row, came upon Mildred shut- 
 ting her own door, and evidently about to walk over to 
 Sally's. 
 
 He had heard so much of both women and the locality of 
 their two dwellings that he could not have mistaken the trim, 
 dainty little figure of the prison visitor. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " that is my name." 
 
 "We're weel met," said the stranger, "I have news o' 
 your freend David Keith." 
 
 " Oh, have you ? " was the quick reply, in which there was 
 a mixture of hope and apprehension. " Is it good news ? ' 
 
 " Aye, I'm glad to say it is." 
 
 " Thank God ! " Mildred exclaimed with fervor. 
 
 "Ye had ill tidings, I'm thinking? " 
 
 " Yes ; oh, yes. The news came yesterday." 
 
 " What news ? " 
 
 "The loss of the Morning Star." 
 
 " Weel, that's true enough ; but our David was saved." 
 
 " You don't know what a blessed messenger you are ! " 
 said Mildred. 
 
 " Yet I dinna undervalue the tidings I bring. I suppose 
 ye're thinkin' o' Miss Mumford Sally eh ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mildred, " but who are you, sir, may I ask ? "
 
 A SURPRISE FOR HARTLEY'S ROW. 335 
 
 " I'm telt ye're a God-fearin' little woman, a releegious 
 lassie, one as can stand firm in joy or sorrow ? " 
 
 " I am a humble servant of Christ," said Mildred, " but 
 only a poor creature." 
 
 " I am Alan Keith," said the stranger, " David's father." 
 
 "You are proclaiming miracles !" exclaimed Mildred, 
 starting back a pace or two. 
 
 " Weel, I dinna ken but you're reight ! And it seems to 
 me it's just providential that I met you i' this promiscuous 
 way, for the reason that I want you jest to go into that 
 hoose wi' the brass knocker, and acquaint Sally Mumford 
 wi' the fact that not only is David alive, was lost and is 
 found, but that his fether is alsae in the land o' the livin', 
 and when she's in a condition to see me I'll step in and 
 assure her o' my reality." 
 
 " Yes, yes oh, you are very thoughtful ! and David, 
 where is he ? " 
 
 " He isna far away," said Alan, with a most grim kind of 
 wink that was intended to be humorous, " there was jest a 
 person he had to see oot yander ; but he'll nae be lang 
 and noo, Miss Hope, gae and prepare the way for me and 
 my gude tidings." 
 
 " I am rather bewildered," said Mildred. 
 
 " You're a bonnie lassie ! " said Alan. " For a preachin' 
 lassie you're just a marvel o' sweet looks, and a'most 
 sweeter voice. Besides it's vera cold ; gae in, lassie, and 
 when Sally's equal to seein' guests and the like, come ye to 
 the door." 
 
 Alan stood in the little court for some time, noting its 
 clean red bricks, its raddled pots filled with greenery not- 
 withstanding the nipping frosts of winter. Stray beams of 
 sunshine glinted in upon him. Then the wind would rush 
 round an adjacent corner and ruffle the gray fur of his 
 coat collar, as if it had some business of identification on 
 hand, and was going to carry the strange news out to sea.
 
 336 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 Presently Mildred, in a soft, warm, dove-colored dress 
 came to the door, and Alan followed her into the house. 
 
 A pinched red-eyed old lady met him almost on the door- 
 step, and then recoiled as he put out his hand. 
 
 " Heaven support me ! " she exclaimed, " how you must 
 have suffered ! " 
 
 " And ye luke as if ye'd nae had sae vera gude a time on 
 it," was Alan's calm reply. 
 
 " Oh, dear, dear, your poor gray hair, and your hollow 
 cheeks ! Oh, my dear, kind, abused master ! " Sally went 
 on, kissing his hands and weeping over them. 
 
 " My dear Sally, ye were once as buxom and fresh 
 as a rose ! but there, I canna tell ye hoo glad I am to see 
 ye!" 
 
 " Dear master ! my poor, kind, brave master ! " went on 
 Sally, "and you've seen David your son ! Merciful God, 
 how mysterious are thy ways ! " 
 
 " Aye ! " said Alan. " Come noo, sit ye down, Sally, my 
 lass, and I'll just tek off these owerpowering wraps that 
 David would load me wi', for fear I'd be takkin cauld, the 
 dear thoughtful lad that he is ! " 
 
 " I will return by and by," said Mildred, who felt her- 
 self in the way, and was anxious to leave Sally and her old 
 master to unburden their memories to each other in private. 
 
 " No, my love, dont thee go. Eh, my dear master, ye 
 don't know what a comfort she's been to me." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I do ; David telt me all aboot Miss Hope," 
 said Alan, removing his wraps and standing forth in the 
 quaint Oriental garb that he had worn in Venice. He 
 looked ten years younger, now that his figure was more or 
 less free from incumbrance ; the same hatchet face, the 
 same strong well-shaped nose, the deep sunken eyes, the 
 masterful if gentle expression that had attracted the artistic 
 Venetians when first they saw him. Mildred felt awed in 
 his presence ; he was different from any other man she had
 
 A SURPRISE FOR HARTLEY'S ROW. 337 
 
 seen ; he seemed in her untutored imagination like a 
 prophet out of the Bible. 
 
 Sally could only sit down and stare at him, and sigh and 
 wonder, until her first surprise and amazement over she 
 asked for David. 
 
 The same grim effort at optical humor that had startled 
 Mildred was Alan's response. 
 
 "But where is he? "asked Sally. "Did he come with 
 you ? " 
 
 " Aye, he did. We came by the coach frae London." 
 
 " Yes ? " said Sally, " and then ? " 
 
 " Why, he bade me come on here and prepare the way for 
 him while he went on a little business of his ain." 
 
 The same wink, with the same ludicrous results. 
 
 Then it suddenly dawned upon Mildred that David had 
 gone to Caister. She glanced at Sally, who read her thought 
 and started to her feet. 
 
 " Dear master, don't say he has gone to Caister ! " 
 
 "There's a person named Webb lives at Caister, eh?" 
 was Alan's response, but this time the wink was checked 
 halfway by an expression of terror that distorted the face 
 of Sally Mumford, which had already been worn into a per- 
 manent expression of pain and sorrow. 
 
 " Oh, where did he say he was going ? " asked Sally. 
 
 " To see his sweetheart and bring her to complete our 
 family party," said Alan. 
 
 " Oh, dear, dear ! " exclaimed Sally, bursting into tears 
 and hiding her head in her apron. 
 
 " Why, there's something wrang ! " said Alan, looking 
 from Sally to Mildred, who had turned pale, but stood as 
 stiffly as a statue, gazing at Alan. 
 
 " Yes," she said, her lips trembling. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Elmira is no longer worthy of David," said Mildred. 
 
 " How ? Why ? "
 
 338 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 "She has forgotten him and herself," said Mildred. 
 
 " Nae, dinna beat aboot the bush ; I had begun to thenk 
 he was too happy that I was too happy ! " said the old 
 man with a sigh, and stooping, as he spoke, like a man in the 
 attitude of bending his back to a blow. 
 
 " She has gone away with a young man called Harry 
 Barkstead." 
 
 " Good God ! he was David's best friend ! " 
 
 " David thought so," said Mildred. 
 
 " She has left her father and her home, and is living with 
 David's f riend ?" asked Alan, turning his deep-set eyes 
 upon Mildred. 
 
 Mildred simply said, " Alas ! " and looked upon the 
 ground. 
 
 Alan thrust his long fingers through his thin wisps of 
 hair, dragged a chair toward the ingle nook, sat down and 
 looked into the fire almost in a similar attitude to that in 
 which Zaccheus Webb was sitting when David found him. 
 
 " Disgraced hersel' as weel as been untrue to David ; is 
 that what ye say ? " he asked, staring at the crackling wood 
 and coal. 
 
 " I fear so. Led away by a designing and wicked man," 
 said Mildred. 
 
 "His friend !" said Alan; "his friend! It will hurt 
 David. Please God it be nae a mortal hurt. His mother 
 was an angel is an angel. I lost her death took her. 
 Poor David ! this Elmira Webb was his heart and soul his 
 life and hope and ambition ; and he's lost her he has lost 
 her, and there's a loss that's worse than death ! What'll he 
 do? If they meet, there is only one thing he can do ! His 
 mither owed her death to villainy and persecution ; they 
 jest broke her heart ; but I smote them hip and thigh 
 aye, by God, I did ! " 
 
 "Sir!" said Mildred, facing Alan as he rose up and 
 began to put on his cloak, " David is a man of peace ! "
 
 A SURPRISE FOR HARTLEY'S ROW. 339 
 
 " Is he ? Let me tell ye, then, that David's a man o' 
 war ! A life for a life. Will ye deny him a righteous 
 vengeance ? " 
 
 " ' Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord ; I will repay,' " 
 answered Mildred, and Sally, taking Alan's hand, leaned 
 her head upon his arm and continued to weep and sob. 
 
 " Forgie me ! I amna used to be amang women ; I'm 
 just bragging like some waster, besides forgettin* a' the 
 misery that belongs to what's ca'd takkin the law into one's 
 ain hands ; but ye hae telt me the saddest news I hae heard 
 for more'n twenty year ! It sets my auld heart beatin' like 
 a blacksmith's hammer; I maun gae into the air. More- 
 over, I maun find him. How will I get to Caister ? He 
 hired him a gig." 
 
 " I will show you," said Mildred. " May I go with you ? " 
 
 "If ye'll gae noo." 
 
 " I will," said Mildred, tying her bonnet under her chin, 
 and wrapping her thick gray cloak about her. 
 
 " I cannot be left ; I mun't be left here," said Sally ; 
 "tak me wi' ye ! But for David's sake you shouldn't be 
 sorry about Elmira Webb ; she were a bad lot at heart ; I 
 nivver liked her ! " 
 
 " Eh, but David worshiped her," said Alan. 
 
 " Take me to David," said Sally ; " I must go ! " 
 
 Mildred ran upstairs for Sally's shawl, and a great muff 
 that David had bought her, and a boa for her neck, and 
 they went forth, as the wintry sun was blown out by a north- 
 west wind that was beating up into a gale.
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 DAVID KEITH AND HARRY BARKSTEAD MEET AGAIN. 
 
 THERE was snow in the gale. 
 
 The first feathery messengers were flying about in the 
 air. Across the sea the vanguard of the wintry storm was 
 marching. 
 
 Neither David nor his friends heeded the cold. Nor did 
 Harry Barkstead, who was riding into Yarmouth from 
 Ormesby Hall, pondering his plans and cursing his fate. 
 He rode the same mare that had borne him proudly along 
 to Caister on that bright autumn day when he galloped to 
 his conquest of old Webb's daughter ; but the steed did not 
 know her master on this occasion. He rode her with the 
 reins lying loosely upon her neck. She shambled along in 
 a lazy, leisurely fashion that was very much out of keeping 
 with her customary gait, and also quite out of harmony 
 with the day, not to say utterly uncharacteristic of the 
 rider. 
 
 The stubbles, where the gunners had tramped after their 
 game and made blue wreaths of smoke above the browning 
 hedges, were now flecked with weeds and dotted here and 
 there with snow. The trees were bare. The roads were 
 hard with frost. The toll-house doors were close shut. 
 The sun made feeble efforts against the gray clouds, and 
 the northern wind was driving them up from the sea 
 attended by light flakes of snow, that went about in a weird 
 dance, some of them rushing into Harry's face without even 
 making him wince or without giving him the satisfaction 
 that snow might have brought to a feverish brow. 
 
 Harry's thoughts were not retrospective. 
 
 34
 
 DA VID AND HARRY MEET AGAIN. 341 
 
 His motto was that the past was done with ; the future 
 had to be taken care of. 
 
 What was he going to do ? Should he go back to Lon- 
 don at once ? Or should he stay at the Norfolk in the hope 
 that his father might relent and send for him ? That was 
 rather a forlorn hope at present, he confessed, seeing that 
 his father had not yet heard of his latest escapade, had evi- 
 dently not seen old Webb, or been told the story of Elmira's 
 departure from Caister, let alone her trip to the Continent 
 with Lord Grennox. Of course now that the flood-gates of 
 gossip would be opened against him, Sir Anthony would at 
 once be made acquainted with the story of Elmira 
 Webb. 
 
 Anyhow, Mr. Barkstead came to the conclusion that he 
 would stay for the night at the Norfolk ; and having got 
 this tiny distance on the highway of the future, he touched 
 the horse with his spurs, took up the reins, and cantered 
 into Yarmouth, not taking his customary road whence he 
 could see old Webb's cottage, but going by a more round- 
 about route, that took him into Yarmouth from a different 
 point. 
 
 While Harry Barkstead, fresh from his father's denuncia- 
 tions, was riding toward the Norfolk, David Keith, in a far 
 more energetic mood, was driving in a similar direction. 
 
 As David had swept along the highway among the sand- 
 dunes to Caister he had fairly laughed for joy. He had 
 almost been unable to contain himself, while anticipating his 
 meeting with Elmira and the blundering congratulations of 
 Zaccheus. He had even thought of the delight it would be 
 to Charity Dene to see him once more in the old house, this 
 time with his arm rightfully about Elmira's waist. 
 
 Then he had thought of how she would get into the gig 
 and sit by his side, and how they would drive triumphantly 
 into Yarmouth, and he would watch the expression of his
 
 342 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 father's face when, introducing the beautiful girl, he said to 
 the old man, "This is Elmira." 
 
 There was surely never a happier fellow than David on 
 his way to Caister, never a more wretched one as he drove 
 back again to Yarmouth. Now he groaned in his desola- 
 tion, bit his lips with vows of vengeance, cursed Harry 
 Barkstead beneath his breath as he hissed his anathemas, 
 but found no word or thought of rebuke for Elmira. Of 
 course the scoundrel had followed her about and pestered 
 her with his attentions, loaded her with presents, made love 
 to her at every opportunity, taken advantage of her when 
 her father was away and when, no doubt, she thought he 
 (David) was drowned ! He made every excuse for Elmira. 
 He saw in Harry the blackest hearted villain that mind 
 could conceive or imagination invent. 
 
 The light in David's eye was murderous, his lips drawn 
 over his strong teeth, his face livid. The snow wetted his 
 cheeks as it wetted Harry Barkstead's, and with as little 
 feeling or notice as it drew from him. The wind howled 
 across the dunes. Now and then a streak of sand, like 
 a winter wraith, fled across the way, and a flight of gulls 
 from the sea cried out against the coming storm. The 
 licensed victualler's horse galloped along the hard road as 
 if the fiend was behind it, though David neither touched it 
 with whip nor urged it with rein. 
 
 Was it something in the fixed destinies of David Keith 
 and Harry Barkstead that allotted to their horses the very 
 pace at which they should travel that the two men might 
 meet as they did? Coincidences are supposed to be the 
 chief motives of a fictitious story, but they are far more 
 remarkable in the history of real life than anything the 
 novelist can invent. There was nothing in the least 
 unlikely or improbable in these two young fellows crossing 
 each other at this momentous period of their two young 
 lives.
 
 DA VID AND HARR Y MEE T A GAIN. 343 
 
 While Alan and the two women of Hartley's Row were 
 making inquiries and procuring a carriage at the posting 
 house, David was speeding along the North Road and so 
 into the market-place ; and as he entered it at one end, 
 Harry Barkstead rode in at the other. The snow by this 
 time was beginning to fall with a persistence that was only 
 held in check by the wind. 
 
 It was not strange that Harry did not notice David 
 whom he had come to regard as dead, whenever he gave 
 him a thought. The moment David saw the unmistakable 
 figure of his whilom friend, he pulled up his horse and 
 leaped to the ground. 
 
 " Here, my lad," he said to a fellow who was standing 
 beneath an adjacent archway, " take this horse." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the man, stepping to the horse's head. 
 
 " Take the trap to the posting house and say I'll be 
 there directly." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the man, holding out his hand for the 
 shilling that David drew from his pocket. 
 
 Pleased with the bright new coin, and proud of sitting 
 behind any kind of a horse, the man rattled away across 
 the stones toward the house by the quay, and David 
 walked with a steady, firm step to the Norfolk, where Harry 
 was alighting from his horse, the Norfolk groom leading it 
 in beneath the archway where there was a private entrance 
 to the bar. 
 
 Suddenly Harry was pulled up by a hand that took him 
 by the shoulder and turned him round. Recognizing that 
 the grip was not a friendly one he raised his lead-loaded 
 riding stock, and found himself in a threatening attitude 
 face to face with David Keith. 
 
 " Oh, it's you, is it ? " he said, with a surprised look and 
 stepping back a pace or two. 
 
 " Yes, who did you think it might be ? " David asked, 
 getting between Harry and the bar door.
 
 344 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 " It might have been a Bow Street runner, who had mis- 
 taken me for some other villain," said Harry, rearranging 
 the collar of his coat. 
 
 " I'm glad you confess yourself a villain," said David, 
 " it will save time and explanations." 
 
 " Will it ? " said Harry, backing still further into the 
 yard under the influence of David's aggressive attitude. 
 
 "Where is Elmira Webb ? " asked David, steadying him- 
 self, for it was an effort to mention her name. 
 
 " I don't know," was the answer, flung back at David 
 with something of the defiant and threatening manner in 
 which the question was put. 
 
 " You lie ! " said David. 
 
 Harry tried hard to stand firmly on the defensive and 
 to give David back retort for retort, but the weakness 
 of his cause hampered him. The knowledge of his 
 infamous conduct qua this honest, trusting lad unnerved 
 him. 
 
 " I ask you again, where is she ?" 
 
 " I repeat I do not know." 
 
 " And I say again you are a liar and a coward," said 
 David, his rising passion tinging his pale cheeks. 
 
 Harry merely shrugged his shoulders, but he turned his 
 whip-stock round and held it handle downward. 
 
 " Do you remember how we parted, you and I ?" David 
 asked, his lip trembling. 
 
 " Yes, I remember, and to that memory you owe it that 
 I have not laid you flat with this whip ; I tell you now I am 
 no more a liar than you are, and you can easily find out if 
 I am a coward ! " 
 
 " All in good time," said David. "You knew that when 
 we parted she was engaged to be my wife." 
 
 " I don't deny it." 
 
 " And you professed to be my friend ?" 
 
 " I did, and felt like it at the time."
 
 DA VID AND HARRY MEET AGAIN. 345 
 
 " Really ! " said David, his lips paling with the scorn 
 they expressed, " really ! " 
 
 " It is the truth," said Harry. 
 
 "You knew that I risked that journey chiefly for her 
 happiness; you knew that it consoled me to think she would 
 have a friend at hand if she wanted one a friend whom 
 I could trust ; the friend who went all the way to Bristol 
 with me to say good-by, and take my last message back to 
 her and the others whom I loved ! " 
 
 David seemed as if he would break down under the 
 influence of his more tender feelings; his eyes filled with 
 tears, and Harry thought the moment opportune to offer 
 explanations. 
 
 " She is not worthy of you," he said. 
 
 " Who was her tutor ? " David asked, dashing the tears 
 from his face. " Who in the absence of her only protector, 
 her honest old father, stole her away from home and 
 honor? " 
 
 " Not I," said Harry, now advancing toward David. " I'm 
 tired of these useless recriminations, and it is cold standing 
 out here ; besides, people in the bar are becoming interested, 
 and it is a pity you should make an exhibition of yourself." 
 
 " Answer me ! Do you think I care who hears what I 
 have to say ? " 
 
 " Who stole her away ? " said Harry, repeating David's 
 question with a sneer, and stiffening his lip at the remem- 
 brance of his own grievance against the girl. " Stole her 
 away! Why, she was any man's goods who had money 
 enough ! " 
 
 David for a moment was stunned with Barkstead's bitter 
 and cowardly reply of justification. Vilifying the girl he 
 had deceived to the friend whom he had wronged was the 
 climax of outraged friendship and honor. 
 
 " Coward ! " hissed David, approaching him, as if about 
 to spring upon him, " liar ! thief ! blackguard ! "
 
 346 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 " Out of my way, you fool ! " exclaimed Harry, clutching 
 his loaded whip as he found David once more blocking his 
 way to the bar door and with a new light of danger in the 
 lad's eyes. Harry both boxed and fenced, and he watched 
 David's movements with the practiced skill of one who 
 knew how to take advantage of the smallest mistake arising 
 from passion or lack of art. 
 
 At the moment that David reached out his long arm with 
 the intention of seizing Harry by the throat, his adversary, 
 evading his touch, struck him a tremendous blow with the 
 handle of his whip. 
 
 David fell back against the door, half blinded with a rush 
 of blood from a wound on the forehead. Perhaps the 
 bleeding was a relief. An open wound at the outset was 
 better for David than a heavy bruise. 
 
 Barkstead, his passion now hot, and his false pride 
 awakened, advanced upon David to remove him. 
 
 " Out of my way, I tell you ! " he said, and the sound of 
 his voice was like a trumpet to the half stunned faculties 
 of his antagonist. 
 
 Crouching like a tiger and with a wild cry, David sprang 
 at his enemy, hitting him full in the face, and catching with 
 his left hand the whip-stock that Harry had once more 
 raised against him. 
 
 There was a sharp, fierce struggle, a desperate effort of 
 each to fling the other, and from which David emerged with 
 Harry's bludgeon-like weapon in his right hand. As his 
 foe gathered himself up, David swung the whip-stock above 
 his head and struck his enemy across the face, and followed 
 up the blow with another and another. 
 
 Sir Anthony's wretched son fell upon his face. Losing 
 all control over himself, David rushed upon him and kicked 
 the resistless body before the people in the bar, who knew 
 the nature of the quarrel, had thought it right to interfere. 
 It took half a dozen men to hold the lad, who was the
 
 DA VID AND HARR Y MEE T A GAIN. 347 
 
 picture of wild despair and madness, the blood streaming 
 down his face, his clothes torn, his lips wet with blood and 
 foam, his hands clutching the empty air, but gradually 
 becoming limp as his body, until he sank into the arms of 
 his father, whom in his fury he had no more recognized 
 than he had Mildred or Sally, who arrived on the scene 
 just in time to witness the close of the tragedy. 
 Harry Barkstead was taken up dead.
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 THE WATCHMAN'S LANTERN. 
 
 HARRY BARKSTEAD lay dead in the clubroom of the Nor- 
 folk Hotel. 
 
 At one end of the room two pillars, representing two 
 orders of architecture, stood for masonic symbols. 
 
 It was the room in which a body of Freemasons met 
 once a month to perform their mysteries. 
 
 Once a year the county ball was held there. Elmira 
 Webb had stood outside the Norfolk Hotel to see the fine 
 ladies go in. She was herself a fine lady now, the belle of 
 a winter resort under the blue skies of Italy. 
 
 There was no other room, thought the landlord, so fit- 
 ting for the body to rest in as the dim old clubroom. It 
 would be convenient for the jury to view the corpse and 
 handy for the undertaker, giving, as it did, directly upon 
 the courtyard. 
 
 All the others were more or less engaged. The club- 
 room would not be required until New Year's Day. 
 
 It did not matter to Harry Barkstead where his body 
 might be lodged on this occasion, though in his life he was 
 fastidious, not to say luxurious in his tastes. 
 
 In due course the hotel went to rest. Yarmouth closed 
 its eyes. 
 
 The only wakeful person seemed to be the watchman, 
 who, a lantern in one hand and a stick in the other, left his 
 box at long intervals and announced the hour and the 
 state of the weather. 
 
 " Twelve o'clock and a snowy mornin'," was heard that 
 night by many unusually sleepless burgesses, but it made no 
 
 348
 
 THE WA TCH 'MAN'S LANTERN. 349 
 
 impression upon Harry Barkstead ; nor indeed was David 
 Keith conscious of the watchman's cry. One lay dead, 
 and, according to the latest accounts in bar parlor and tap- 
 room and around every winter's fire thereabouts, David 
 Keith was dying. 
 
 It was not so, however. David, between white sheets, 
 watched by loving eyes, tended by the best medical skill, 
 lay unconscious in his own comfortable bedroom in Hart- 
 ley's Row. It was a truckle-bed, with white dimity cur- 
 tains drawn at the head of it, to shield the sleeper's face 
 from the firelight and the candle that stood in a long 
 round tin box with holes at the sides, through which the 
 light flickered in a furtive sick-room kind of fashion. 
 
 Over the mantel there were three silhouette portraits, 
 one of David, one of Sally, and one of Elmira Webb. 
 Sally had not dared to take the latter down, even when the 
 news came to her of the flight of David's sweetheart with 
 his trusted friend. She had determined that when David 
 came back he should come to his own neat and daintily 
 kept little room. There were his hanging bookshelf where 
 he kept volumes for which there was no place downstairs, 
 his oak chest containing sea-shells, pebbles, a few old 
 knives, a dagger, a flint pistol, a bit of the wreck of a ship 
 lost off the North Dunes, and other curiosities. In the 
 closet still hung the jacket he had worn on his expeditions 
 in the Swallow. 
 
 On the wall, facing the foot of his bed, were florid and 
 shining figures of various heroes cut in relief from printed 
 pictures colored in red and purple and green and blue, and 
 embossed with gold and silver tinsel, giving the effect of 
 splendid armor. William the Conqueror, with a powerful 
 battle ax in one hand, was defying the Black Prince in 
 iron spangles, and flourishing a gigantic sword. There 
 were also representations of Julius Caesar, Robin Hood, 
 and " King Dick " as Richard II. was invariably called by
 
 35 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 the gallant youth of Yarmouth in the heroic days of David 
 Keith. 
 
 The firelight played in a friendly way on these familiar 
 objects, but David neither saw them nor it. By the 
 fire, as the watchman called the hour, sat a silent figure, not 
 unlike Don Quixote, grim, bony, with a long neck and 
 rope-like sinews, bright deep eyes, a long face, and a firm 
 yet generous mouth half hid in a straggling mustache that 
 was mixed up with his beard, a curious, thoughtful, kindly, 
 strange looking old man. He was taking his turn with the 
 women who were nursing the unconscious lad, who lay 
 calm and still, with his head bandaged and his lips almost 
 as pale as his face. 
 
 But, as you will see, David Keith was better off than 
 Harry Barkstead. David did not know that he was better 
 off. At the time when the watchman cried the hour he 
 might have been as dead as Harry Barkstead so far as he 
 knew ; but he was much better off, for all that. 
 
 Alan, his father, sat lovingly and patiently at his beck 
 and call when he should wake to consciousness. Moreover 
 he had a nice fire in the room ; it was his own room ; the 
 old familiar dumb things he had known in his boyish days 
 were waiting for his recognition ; and below stairs one of 
 his nurses, in particular, was young and loved him with the 
 fervency of a first love ; while the other, who had been to 
 him as a mother, only wanted to be asked to lay down her 
 life for him to do it cheerfully. 
 
 While Harry Barkstead was abed in his boots, in a cold, 
 cheerless room, with ghostly memories of Freemasons 
 who had been torn limb from limb in olden days for 
 broken vows, with ghostly memories of bygone feasts, with 
 ghostly memories of dance and song and music from sweet 
 lutes, and all kinds of sad and happy occurrences ; no 
 father sitting by, no sweet greeting awaiting his return 
 to consciousness ; dead as any of the masons of old
 
 THE WATCHMAN'S LANTERN. 351 
 
 who had handed down the passwords from the days of 
 Solomon. 
 
 Harry Barkstead may perhaps be said to have been 
 happy in one thing ; at least he knew nothing of the jun- 
 ketings and fine doings of Lord Grennox and the Lady 
 Webb away in the sunny climes where such a night of 
 snow and chill as had fallen upon Yarmouth was impos- 
 sible ; nor was he conscious of the bitter scorn with which 
 his father regarded his life and death. What Harry Bark- 
 stead's spiritual experiences might be it is not worth while to 
 speculate. But his mortal body was in a sorry state. 
 
 And outside these two rooms the clubroom of the 
 posting house and the chamber in Hartley's Row the 
 snow fell in a steady downpour. There were no stars ; no 
 sky was to be seen ; hardly a light was visible in Yarmouth 
 except the occasional flicker of the watchman's lantern. 
 
 The snow fell all over the land. It came down in such 
 heavy flakes that it even calmed the sea. All the* world 
 was hushed. The dunes were rounded hillocks. Never 
 indeed were they anything else except when the wind some- 
 times blew them into imitations of miniature crags from 
 which they soon fell again into their native shapes ; but on 
 this night of the tragedy at the Norfolk they were rounded 
 with snow, the valleys themselves climbing up into hillocks, 
 the hillocks covering every trace of rush and reed that had 
 been browned by autumn winds and torn by wintry gales. 
 
 Along the beach by Caister there was a light in the 
 lookout station, and your imagination might lead you to 
 see the group of sturdy fellows posted there, some lying 
 prone on the benches, others sitting up and smoking their 
 pipes, all ready to go forth to the aid of any ship that 
 might be in distress. But who could go to the aid of 
 that human ship who hung out his light on the Yarmouth 
 side of the lookout, Zaccheus Webb with his light burn- 
 ing to welcome the prodigal daughter, who, without any
 
 35 2 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 thought of him, was walking on flowers and basking in 
 sunshine ? 
 
 Zaccheus Webb had heard nothing as yet of the death of 
 Harry Barkstead. Curiously enough, he had never once 
 thought of him. From the moment that he knew his 
 daughter had left Caister, no thought but of her entered into 
 his mind. He blamed no one, desired no vengeance, did not 
 dream of following his child he was stunned with a great 
 blow, and he sat down to wait for Elmira's return. 
 "She'll come hum," he said, " Elmira will, all in good 
 time ; she'll come hum ! " 
 
 And the watchman at uncertain intervals went forth 
 from his shelter, muffled in a comforter, laden with capes, 
 with his slouch hat pulled down over his ears, and pro- 
 claimed the flight of time.
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 THROUGH THE VALLEY. 
 
 THE deep, unredeemed shadows of the night that lay so 
 heavy on the town dominated to a great extent the morning 
 and the evening of the next day. Nature seemed to be in 
 sympathy with the gloom of the story that was being told 
 not now in Yarmouth only, but with variations along the 
 coast ; for ill news travels apace, even with snow and dark- 
 ness against it. 
 
 Yarmouth paused, in the midst of her preparations for 
 Christmas, to listen to the details of the fight and to specu- 
 late upon the consequences thereof to David Keith. Shop 
 windows in course of decoration with festive fruits and toys 
 were left half finished. The snow interposed, however, with 
 the characteristic embellishment of white drift, and here and 
 there the window panes were frosted with strange designs. 
 
 The waits postponed their rehearsals for the time being, 
 and the street hawkers laid aside their sheets of carols in 
 the hope of being provided with more attractive verses 
 descriptive of the tragedy of the posting house. 
 
 In the general details of the story, wherever it was told, 
 the figure of Alan Keith loomed up strange and weird. 
 It was related how David's father had suddenly appeared 
 on the scene, a foreign looking stranger in foreign clothes, 
 tall and gaunt, like some queer mariner who'd sailed the 
 world round and round to come at last to the East Coast to 
 find his lad in trouble and to stand by his side perhaps in 
 death. They were by no means without imagination these 
 Eastern folk, and they could not get away from the unac- 
 customed spectacle of this picturesque and unusual old man. 
 
 353
 
 354 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 The beadle was busy summoning the jurymen to sit upon 
 the body. Sir Anthony Barkstead had listened to the ac- 
 count of the witnesses who would be called at the inquest, 
 and all Yarmouth was agreed that since Barkstead struck 
 the first blow, and that a murderous one, David Keith had 
 only acted in self-defense, and could not therefore be 
 answerable for the death of his opponent. Mr. Petherick 
 had indorsed this view, but one of the egotists of the 
 Norfork smoke-room declared without fear of contradiction 
 that a man who took the life of another was guilty of man- 
 slaughter, even if that other was a highwayman. 
 
 Meanwhile David Keith lay, unconscious of all that was 
 going on around him, in the neat and trim little bedroom 
 that had been daily aired and tidied in the hope of his 
 return. No amount of doubt, no rumor of storm or stress, 
 no story of gales or shipwreck had influenced Sally Mum- 
 ford in her preparations for the dear lad's home-coming. 
 Her heart misgave her, but she strenuously battled with 
 her fears ; while there was life there was hope, and come 
 when he might, his room should be as ready for him as 
 her welcome. 
 
 It was not deemed wise for more than one person at a 
 time to be in the sick room, seeing that pure air was help- 
 ful to the patient, so the doctor said. Miss Mumford, 
 Mildred Hope, and Alan Keith therefore took it in turns 
 to watch by the patient's side and carry out the doctor's 
 instructions. 
 
 Alan Keith, who had been at first regarded as somewhat 
 eccentric, turned out to be a very wise, careful old man, 
 gentle as a woman, and just as wise in the art of nursing. 
 They grew to love him devotedly, both Sally and Mildred, 
 so even tempered was he, so religious so practical too, 
 and so reconciled to the will of Heaven. They could not 
 see into the old man's heart, or they would have found it 
 full of an unorthodox approval of David's slaying of the man
 
 THROUGH THE VALLEY. 355 
 
 who had betrayed his friendship ; but Alan's head came to 
 the aid of his heart, and he assumed a policy of gentleness, 
 contending that his boy had no vengeful feeling, that he 
 would have been satisfied with Barkstead's explanation, if 
 the young squire had vouchsafed him one, but since, instead 
 of that, Barkstead had made a murderous assault upon him, 
 what was he to do but defend himself ? Old Petherick had 
 given Alan this judicial hint, telling him that David's safety, 
 if he recovered, would lie in the absence of premeditation ; 
 and happily there was no evidence of any threat, and he 
 had no weapon upon him when he encountered Barkstead. 
 At the same time, the law was very jealous of the taking 
 of life ; and it would need all the evidence and influence 
 that could be obtained in the lad's favor to save him, 
 after he recovered, as they all believed and hoped he 
 would, 
 
 The inquest was adjourned from day to day, until such 
 time as David could make his deposition ; for Petherick 
 contended that his deposition should be taken, his policy 
 being to regard David as the aggrieved person in the case, 
 although the other was dead. Magisterial opinion was 
 rather for looking upon David as a person resting under a 
 grave charge, and therefore not to be interrogated ; and 
 such police authority as existed outside the borough watch- 
 man held Sally Mumford's house under surveillance. 
 
 Mildred Hope found time, between the intervals of nurs- 
 ing, to attend to her duties of charity. Wherever she went 
 she had good words for David, and she asked many of her 
 humblest dependents to pray for him. Mildred plodded 
 through the snow to the toll-house jail and read to the 
 prisoners, went to Sunday school, visited the sick, and 
 seemed to be endowed with fresh energies and power. 
 Whether he lived or died she had the privilege of smooth- 
 ing David's pillow, and the only time since the moment 
 when he fell into the arms of his father that he had seemed
 
 356 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 to know anyone, he had looked at her and touched her 
 hand. She loved him, and now that he was sick and in 
 trouble she had ventured to confess her love not to any 
 human being, but in her prayers to God. Mildred did not 
 regard prayer in the commonplace orthodox fashion of, " Ask 
 and ye shall receive," but as a duty ; not in the way of 
 petition so much for strength to do what was right as a 
 vow to hold by, the expression of a wish that Heaven might 
 think well to grant. She had been accustomed for years 
 to speak on her knees of all that she wished and desired, of 
 all she felt that it was worthy to feel ; and never, until the 
 bond between Elmira and David was broken, had she con- 
 fessed even to herself that she loved David Keith ; indeed, 
 when she had been conscious of it, she had rather regarded 
 it as a sin, and had repressed it, for were not his word and 
 his heart given to Elmira Webb ? 
 
 It is true she had listened to Sally Mumford when David's 
 foster-mother had declared she would like to have seen her 
 engaged to David. She had striven however to discourage 
 repetitions of Sally's opinions and desires in that direction. 
 But now, although David might be drifting out with the 
 tide to that last harbor, she was conscious of a mysterious 
 joy ; she dared to love him ; she dared to say so in her 
 prayers ; she dared to lay bare her heart and pray that it 
 might not be a wicked thing to do. 
 
 It was Mildred who had received Sir Anthony Barkstead 
 when he called to inquire after David's condition. Sir 
 Anthony was pale, and he spoke low and sorrowfully ; but 
 he had said to Mildred, whom he knew as the prison visitor 
 and with whose good work he was well acquainted, that he 
 wished it to be understood that he did not blame David 
 for what had happened. The law of course would take 
 its course, and it was not for him to suggest what that 
 course might be, but it was his wish, when the lad was well 
 enough to be spoken to concerning what had happened, that
 
 THROUGH THE VALLEY. 357 
 
 he should be told how Harry Barkstead's father exonerated 
 and forgave him. 
 
 The law did take its course. First there was the inquest, 
 adjourned until David Keith should be out of danger. 
 The body having been sufficiently viewed by the members 
 of the quest, Sir Anthony took it home to Ormesby Hall, 
 where the poor, harmless mortal thing was washed and laid 
 out where its mother had reposed in the first days of her 
 long sleep. And presently the stern, hard look of the mis- 
 guided heir to an honored name and a fine estate relaxed, 
 and Sir Anthony saw in the softened features the face of his 
 son as he had known it in its innocence, and before the 
 funeral bell began to toll he was reconciled to the dead 
 image of the son he had loved, and there were tears in his 
 eyes, and his heart heaved, as he followed it to the grave. 
 
 " But I must do my duty to that other one," he said, 
 sitting down by his lonely hearth, when the day was over. 
 
 First, as is recorded in the legal record of the case, came 
 the inquest, its adjournment, and the burial of the body. 
 Then came adjournment after adjournment until David's 
 deposition could be taken, and it was taken with the fear 
 of death before his eyes, and fortunately for him the few 
 questions put to him were very simple and his story was 
 amply corroborated. While Mr. Petherick had no locus 
 standi before the court except by the courtesy of the 
 coroner, he was an important factor in formulating the evi- 
 dence and drawing forth the points favorable to David. 
 The accounts given by the lookers-on who saw the begin- 
 ning of the altercation, the first blow struck by Barkstead 
 and the last by Keith, were very explicit, and tended net 
 only to reduce the crime to manslaughter, but even to 
 suggest the possibility of a verdict of justifiable homicide, 
 though the law at the time was far more severe than it is 
 now. 
 
 In the end the jury, after some discussion as to the form
 
 35 8 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 and presentation of their verdict, gave it as " manslaughter 
 with extenuating circumstances." 
 
 The coroner thereupon issued his warrant for the arrest 
 of David Keith. In response to this, medical evidence 
 satisfied the authorities that David was not in a fit condi- 
 tion to be removed from Hartley's Row. 
 
 A few weeks later the case came before the magistrates. 
 David was well enough to plead. The case was taken in 
 the chief magistrate's room, a limited number of the public 
 being admitted. 
 
 The evidence given before the coroner was repeated, and 
 the magistrates came to the conclusion that it was their 
 duty to commit David for trial at the forthcoming assizes, 
 but they were willing to take substantial bail for his 
 appearance. 
 
 Sir Anthony Barkstead, to the surprise of everybody 
 present, thereupon rose from a seat with which he had 
 been accommodated, apart from the magistrates' table, and 
 offered himself as one of David's sureties, Mr. Waveny 
 Petherick at the same time standing forward as another. 
 
 The sureties being in every way satisfactory, David was 
 released to take his trial at the regular jail delivery in 
 March. 
 
 " Permit me to thank you, sir, for your great kindness in 
 this painful matter," said Alan Keith, approaching Sir 
 Anthony as he was leaving the court. 
 
 " I conceive it to be only an act of duty," was Sir 
 Anthony's reply. 
 
 The two fathers bowed to each other and passed on 
 their way. 
 
 Mildred had watched the magistrates' house from afar. 
 She dared not trust herself in the court. When she saw 
 David come forth with Miss Mumford, his father, and Mr. 
 Petherick, and go toward Hartley's Row, with many sym- 
 pathizers following, she followed too, uttering little prayers
 
 THROUGH THE VALLEY. 359 
 
 of thankfulness that David was better and a free man. 
 She had not reckoned upon a committal to the assizes. 
 On her way she met Mr. Petherick going to his office. He 
 informed her of the magisterial decision. 
 
 " Don't be alarmed," he said, answering her sudden 
 expression of anxiety, " he is sure to get off with a very 
 light punishment, perhaps with no punishment at all ; if 
 you have to count him among the prisoners at the toll- 
 house jail he will not need your visitations for long."
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 A BAD DREAM WITH A LOVELY IMAGE IN IT. 
 
 FEBRUARY had set in with unusual suggestions of an early 
 spring. Tufts of crocuses appeared in the flowerpots that 
 filled every one of the window sills of Miss Mumford's 
 house in Hartley's Row. 
 
 Alan Keith had already begun to rise at an early hour 
 and take long walks, revolving in his mind his long cherished 
 idea of visiting Newfoundland and unearthing his buried 
 treasure. 
 
 By the banks of the Waveny, and through the meadows 
 by dyke and homestead, he had already heard the wood- 
 lark and the thrush. Along the beach the sea rolled in 
 with a pleasant sound of promise. Fishing smacks came 
 and went with every tide. On market days the stalls were 
 brightened with the first flowers of the year, and the drying 
 winds of March began to stir the dust long before Febru- 
 ary was at an end. 
 
 David was fast recovering. 
 
 It was noted by Sally Mumford with a grateful joy that 
 he said nothing of Elmira. She almost hoped that the 
 effect of his wound might have been to wipe old Webb's 
 daughter entirely out of his memory. She had heard of 
 such things happening as the obliteration of certain occur- 
 rences in the minds of men and women who had sustained 
 hurts in fearful accidents. 
 
 As David improved in health, Mildred Hope became shy 
 and reserved. He never failed to ask after her whenever 
 she stayed away from the house more than an hour or two 
 at a time. Sally declared the lad could not get along with-
 
 A BAD DREAM WITH A LOVELY IMAGE IN IT. 361 
 
 out Mildred. Alan Keith had come to find the girl a 
 necessity. She knew so many things, was so deft with her 
 needle, so learned as to geography, and so generous and 
 wise in her views of religion theology having of late 
 become quite a serious subject with Alan. Furthermore, 
 her charities were so remarkable and on so large a scale, 
 considering that she was poor and had no seemingly settled 
 organization. 
 
 As for David, he seemed to be awakening from a dream. 
 He mixed up the loss of the Morning Star with the incident 
 of the posting house. Old Matt White, of the Welsh Back, 
 and Zaccheus, now and then appeared to be the same per- 
 son. Elmira Webb was something to pity, not to sigh for ; 
 a fairy of the mist, who had mocked him to his shame ; a 
 something such as old Matt White might have seen when 
 he beckoned and waved imaginary flags before he flung 
 himself overboard to cool his burning face and find a last- 
 ing rest. 
 
 It was a bad dream with a lovely image in it, and a siren's 
 voice ; they no longer pulled at his heart ; and it might be 
 that the tender eyes and calm, sweet face of Mildred Hope 
 had already begun their eclipse of the bold, handsome, 
 defiant countenance of Elmira Webb. 
 
 One day when Sally Mumford had designedly left David 
 and Mildred alone in the house, Alan being at Gorleston 
 discussing ships with a skipper almost as battered as him- 
 self, David asked after Zaccheus Webb. 
 
 David was sitting in an old armchair by the fire. Mil- 
 dred was embroidering a bodice for a country lady, in the 
 interest of a poor little cripple of Caister. She was in one 
 of her happiest moods, looked the picture of an honest, 
 loving English maiden; small as to stature as we know, but 
 with soft gray eyes, rich brown hair, a mouth made rather 
 for love than religious recluseship, and white teeth that 
 made her laughter lovely.
 
 362 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 While he talked with her, David looked mostly into the 
 fire. Once in a way he turned to her as if to emphasize a 
 question. Mildred answered him in a quiet, subdued voice. 
 There was still between the two, in manner, more of the 
 invalid and the nurse than belonged to the intercourse of 
 neighbors and friends. 
 
 The old clock ticked regularly in an encouraging and 
 soothing way, and the hot cinders dropped now and then 
 into the firepan beneath the grate with a similar drowsy 
 influence that helped calm conversation. 
 
 " I had almost forgotten old Zacchy. How is the poor 
 old chap ? " 
 
 " Quite well, bodily," said Mildred. 
 
 " Still waiting ? " asked David, his mind, v r hich had kept 
 clear of the sad memory of his return to the cottage, now 
 going back to it. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "For her?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Still waiting, sitting by the fire and saying she'll come 
 home?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Poor old Zacchy ! " 
 
 " He rarely leaves the house." 
 
 "I can see him as I saw him that day shattered, broken, 
 a very sorrowful old man ; it was not he who told me about 
 her." 
 
 This was the first time David had mentioned Elmira. 
 
 " No ? " 
 
 " It was that woman misnamed Charity." 
 
 This was the first harsh word he had uttered. 
 
 " She seems to be very kind to the old man," said 
 Mildred. 
 
 " Yes ? "
 
 A BAD DREAM WITH A LOVELY IMAGE IN IT. 363 
 
 " I have been there very often, and have always found her 
 attentive to his wants." 
 
 "How good you are ! " David answered, looking at her. 
 
 " It is easy to be good when there is so much misery 
 about," said Mildred, bending afresh over her work. 
 
 " Easy for you to be good," said David, turning his face 
 once more to the fire. 
 
 " You say truly," she answered, " it is easy for me to be 
 good, but to think of Mr. Webb he is good, yet his heart 
 is breaking." 
 
 " ' Keener than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless 
 child,' "said David; " how true, how sad ! I will go and see 
 Zaccheus ; we will both go." 
 
 " When you are well enough," said Mildred. " You have 
 been reading Shakspere ? " 
 
 " A little ! If Zaccheus only had a younger daughter to 
 comfort him ; he is childless, you see, now." 
 
 David sank back in his chair and put his hand to his head. 
 The blow that Harry Barkstead had struck him with his 
 loaded whip was a terribly shrewd one, cruelly aimed, 
 viciously given; perhaps Harry had noticed the murderous 
 light in David's face, and had meant to anticipate the 
 lad's attack ; David had had a very narrow escape of 
 his life. 
 
 " You have talked too much," said Mildred, laying down 
 her work to hand him a jar of salts which the doctor had 
 recommended whenever David felt faint, and at the same 
 time she reminded him that it was time he took the tonic 
 that had been prescribed for him. 
 
 David put out his hand, not to take the salts, but to clasp 
 his long fingers over the white, soft hand that held them. 
 
 (t No, I am not faint, I am better; my memory is coming 
 back to me in bounds ; some things I am thinking of over- 
 come me a little. Won't you sit by me, Mildred ? "
 
 3 6 4 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 "Yes, if you wish it," she answered, drawing up her chair 
 by his side. 
 
 He took her hand in his, pressed it fondly, and looked 
 into the fire once more, not seeing how her color came and 
 went, not feeling the quick beating of her heart. 
 
 " Dear Mildred," he said, " you were good to her because 
 I loved her. Yes, I know it ; you could not have loved her. 
 I know you didn't; you were sorry for her, you tried to help 
 her, you did it for my sake. Nay, do not take your hand 
 from me, Sally has told me." 
 
 " I never said so," Mildred answered. 
 
 " No, you never would have said it, I know that. I always 
 knew you were good and generous, but never knew how 
 good how should I, a thoughtless, selfish happy lad, 
 without any experience of the world and its ways how 
 should I ?" 
 
 " You were never selfish," said Mildred, " and youth is 
 necessarily thoughtless ; thoughts come later with sorrow." 
 
 " What is your highest ambition, Mildred ? " 
 
 " I don't think I quite know," was the repty. 
 
 " I begin to think I know mine," said David, " but what is 
 yours, Mildred ? My father was full of his yesterday, full 
 of it ; and if he does not dream, and I think he does not, 
 he is a very rich man. He loves you, Mildred ; loves you, 
 he says, as if you were his own daughter and when I get 
 free if I do get free, Mildred he wants to do something 
 for your poor people, something to help you fulfill your 
 highest hopes ; he wants, he says, to be Providence to your 
 prayers, to answer them with a full hand, so that you may 
 give with a lavish one." 
 
 " How he loves you ! " said Mildred, " to think so much 
 of your friend's ambition. But you said if you obtained 
 your freedom ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Ah, my dear friend, you forget that I have yet to stand 
 in the dock at the assizes," said David, " and it does not
 
 A BAD DREAM WITH A LOVEL Y IMAGE IN IT. 365 
 
 need a Shakspere to tell us the uncertainties of the law, 
 the Scripture teaches us that. Who knows, perhaps you 
 may extend your prison ministrations to me ! " 
 
 " O David, you make my heart ache," said Mildred, 
 suddenly, withdrawing her hand to cover her face ; "they 
 can never send you to such a place as that ! " 
 
 " Mildred," he answered, turning toward her and bend- 
 ing his head over her. " it would be heaven enough for me 
 if you were there ! "
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE PATIENCE OF ZACCHEUS WEBB. 
 
 " YOU'N a sight better this mornin'," said Charity Dene, 
 " doan't say yo' baint." 
 
 " I dunno," said Zaccheus Webb, taking the seat Mrs. 
 Dene placed for him. 
 
 " You dunno, but I do ; weather's took turn for better, 
 yon old hunx o' your'n says fishin's good likewise." 
 
 "Aye, shouldna wonder," replied Webb, " I dunno mek 
 nowt much a what you be arter, Charity. You'n got news, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Not about her, no news o' Mira ; news of him." 
 
 " Who ? " asked Webb, as he took the slice of bread 
 which Charity cut for him, and laid a rasher of bacon upon 
 it. 
 
 " Him as killed t'other wun." 
 
 " Aye, so he did, I'd forgotten. 'Twere David made 
 a boggert on him think I seed un t'other night." 
 
 " Seed un ? Seed who ? " 
 
 " Boggert o' him as cum here and made off wi' Mira. 
 They was reed-cuttin' at the time." 
 
 " Wish you'd go reed-cuttin' or summat," said Charity. 
 " Drink your coffee ; I thowt yo was a-comin' to your 
 senses, and you go maudlin' on wuss than ever." 
 
 Mrs. Dene talked to Zaccheus as if he were both deaf 
 and blind. He had only recently come out of what she 
 called " his fit o' sittin' over fire and talkin' rubbish to 
 hissen." 
 
 " I knaw what ya's talkin' on," said Webb, drinking his 
 coffee and eating his bread and bacon.
 
 THE PATIENCE OF ZACCHEUS WEBB. 367 
 
 " Oh, you do, do you ? Well, I'm glad to hear yo' say 
 so; it argues you're comin' round. I was a-goin' to tell yo' 
 about case at 'sizes." 
 
 " 'Sizes ? " 
 
 " Doan't yo' remember me a-tellin' yo' all about row at 
 postin' housen ? Doan't yo' remember prison visitor 
 tellin' yo' ? " 
 
 " Missie Hope ? " 
 
 " Oh, yo' remember her, do yo' ? " 
 
 "Mildred Hope, she wor fond o' Mira, she wor." 
 
 At thought of the two girls as he had seen them together, 
 Zaccheus left the table and set down by the fire. 
 
 " Eh, dear ! there ye go agen," said Charity Dene, " yo'n 
 say no more for a week. I'm gettin' kinder tired o* this. 
 Here, tek your pipe, you're an owd fool just as yo' was 
 comin' round and all ! " 
 
 The woman filled his pipe and gave it to him. He 
 looked up at her in a dumb, distressed way, remarking, 
 " I knaw all about it ; doan't ye bother ; she'll come hum, 
 Mira will, she'll come hum." 
 
 " I dessay she may, and I dessay she mayn't," said 
 Charity, lighting his pipe, at which he began to pull. 
 
 " Mek no doubt on it, all i' good time," he said. 
 
 " Lord ! Lord ! what a fuss about a bit of a wench ! 
 Why, when I was a gel it was a common thing for a lass to 
 run off, aye, and to somethin' even wuss than what Mira's 
 got. Wuss ! why, I heard say at Norfolk as she'd left 
 Squire Barkstead for a clock, and was a-drivin' i' her car- 
 riage wi' don't knaw how many servants the like of which 
 was fit for a queen. Well, she had a way wi' her, had our 
 Mira ; it was that imperuous at times as you'd 'a' thought 
 she was brought up on a nigger plantation wi' a whip in 
 her hand, but mostly good-tempered mostly that's true, 
 and such a merry grig. Not no good a-tryin' to keep a lass 
 o' that build down here fishin' and muddlin' about, not no
 
 368 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 kind o' use that. I said so to Squire Barkstead. And to 
 think o' they two meetin' as they did ! And him a-killin' 
 the other leastways, doin' of him in a feight. But he 
 wor a 'igh-tempered un, that David ! And proud ! I should 
 think so ! " 
 
 " When wether tuk up I said she'll come, not i' the snow 
 and slush, but i' the sun wi' a westerly breeze." 
 
 "Yes, oh, yes!" said Charity scornfully, "and live at 
 hoame, and tak' a hand wi' the herrin' curin', shouldn't 
 wonder, and help mek the beds and mess about with slops 
 and the like. That's reight, she'll come." 
 
 " I dunno what yo means 'bout 'sizes." 
 
 " Hello ! what, wakkin' up again ? Well, I'm sure ! Why, 
 he was tried at 'sizes yesterday, and Bor Green as brought 
 groceries from Yarmouth says they've 'quitted un." 
 
 " Killed un, didn't 'e ? " Webb asked, looking round with 
 a curious attempt at understanding. 
 
 " Killed un, aye, and crowner said it was with extended 
 circumstances, meanin' as t'other struck fust blow." 
 
 "So I shouldna wonder." 
 
 " Well, he was buried, and t'other was tried ; last time 
 pays for all tried at 'sizes David Keith for manslaughter, 
 and jury said 'Not Guilty ! ' " 
 
 " Not guilty," Webb repeated, and turned once more to 
 the fire. 
 
 " They said at fust, the jury did, as he was justified, but 
 judge he said they mun put it more explicit, so after 
 puttin' yeds together a bit they said ' Not Guilty'; and Bor 
 David Keith he be 'quitted, doan't 'e see, 'quitted of the 
 whul things." 
 
 " David was mortal fond ; but she'll come hum, Mira 
 will." 
 
 " Why, bless me, here be Miss Hope ! She'll tell you all 
 about it, and surely Master David Keith his very self. Lor, 
 sir, I axes your pardon ! Last time you was here you was
 
 THE PATfE.VCE OF ZACCHEUS WEBB. 369 
 
 upset and I was upset, but I hadn't got reight hang o' 
 things, and truth is I liked him better nor you, and I couldn't 
 help it, so there ! But I meks my humble 'pology, all the 
 same." 
 
 "Don't mention it, Mrs. Dene," said David. "I was 
 anxious at the first opportunity to see my old friend." 
 
 " Here be Mas'r David Keith," said Charity, plucking 
 Webb by the sleeve. 
 
 Webb turned his head and tried to fix his blinking eyes 
 on David, who drew a chair near the old man and laid his 
 hand upon his arm. 
 
 " Don't you know me, Zacky, dear old friend ? " 
 
 " Knaw you ? Lord A'mighty, yas, I knaws yo' ! She'll 
 come, doan't yo' mek no doubt. Knaw yo' ! Oh, my 
 God ! " 
 
 The old man rose to his feet, held his hand upon his 
 heart, and began to pace the room. Then, seeing Mildred, 
 he paused to look at her. 
 
 " An yo' browt her hum ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not yet," said Mildred, " we must pray for her, and 
 have patience." 
 
 " That's so, patience, have patience ; I can wait, I can 
 wait ; winter'll pass all i' good time." 
 
 Then he sat down again. David took his hand. The 
 old man smiled in a helpless kind of way. 
 
 " You have let your pipe out," said David, " let me light 
 it for you ? " 
 
 David took the pipe and lighted it. Zaccheus put it to 
 
 his lips. 
 
 " It be true ? " he said in a whisper, " yo' be Master 
 
 David Keith ? " 
 
 " Quite true, old friend." 
 
 " Charity 'muses me wi' fables ; but I knaw yo' well 
 enough, if yo' say I baint dreamin'." 
 
 " Dreaming, Zaccheus, not a bit of it ! " David replied.
 
 37 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 "Haven't we had many a voyage on the Scud\ Haven't 
 I rowed the dingey many a time to meet you off Gorleston ? " 
 
 " Surely, surely ! " said Zaccheus, laying his pipe aside 
 and withdrawing his hand from David to rub his palms 
 together, remarking with a chuckle, " and Charity says I be 
 stark, starin' mad." 
 
 " She is only joking," said David. 
 
 " I knaw, I knaw. She thinks I doan't knaw as Mira have 
 gone ; she thinks I doan't knaw the world's a-goin' all 
 wrong, and the fish is a' caught. Doan't tell me, I knaws 
 all about it." 
 
 He rubbed his wrinkled hands together, smiling know- 
 ingly, but with such a sad look in his eyes that the tears 
 came into David's, and he turned to ask Mildred to speak 
 to the poor old fellow. 
 
 But Charity Dene had beckoned Mildred to the window 
 seat. Having answered Mildred's many questions about the 
 old man, she herself became the interrogator. Yes, it was 
 quite true, Mildred said, that the first finding of the jury 
 was considered to be informal, although it meant that 
 David had acted in self-defense, that his action was justifi- 
 able. The judge had instructed them that this being their 
 opinion and the foreman said it was their unanimous 
 opinion their formal verdict should be " Not Guilty." 
 There was great applause in court at this ; and then the 
 jury consulted together, and the foreman stood forward and 
 in answer to the clerk of arraigns, he said they found the 
 prisoner not guilty. There was more applause in court at 
 that, and David turned toward his father with a great sigh 
 of relief ; and the next moment father and son embraced 
 each other, and people shed tears as the old man laid his 
 head upon David's shoulder, overcome with emotion. 
 
 " Eh dear, eh dear, just to think of it ! " said Charity 
 Dene, " and I've knowed a man to be hanged for poachin' ! '' 
 
 " We are all deeply thankful to God for David's escape,
 
 THE PATIENCE OF ZACCHEUS WEBB. 371 
 
 and shall never cease to deplore the death of his assailant. 
 You have much to regret also, Charity Dene." 
 
 "I know, I know," said Charity, "and I shall of course 
 never hear the last of that. Measter Justice Barkstead towd 
 me I ought to be whipped, and I don't forget first words as 
 you said to me when yo' knowed as I left them in the house 
 together ; but what was I to do ? He was so oncommon 
 pleasant and so rich, and paid me so well. And what's 
 more I thought it wor best thing for Miss Webb." 
 
 " O Charity, you could not have thought that ! " said 
 Mildred quickly. 
 
 " But I did. It mought hev been my blessed ignorance, 
 but I did." 
 
 " You don't think so now? " 
 
 " No, I got over that, I'll allow, and I see that 
 never no good can come of a bad action. Don't be angry 
 wi' me, Miss Hope, I hev done my best since then, and will 
 to the end ; and though I did like young Squire Barkstead 
 as was killed better nor t'other, I will say I'm glad Master 
 David Keith is better than I expected he mought hev 
 been, and I'm mortal glad they didn't conclude to hang 
 him." 
 
 Charity, while penitent to some extent in regard to her 
 share in the tragedy, could not feel sufficiently kind to let 
 Mildred off without these passing reflections. 
 
 " David Keith's first wish, on being unanimously acquitted 
 by a jury of his fellow-countrymen and with the approval 
 of the judge," said Mildred, " was to see Elmira's father ; 
 and this is his first outing during his convalescence ; for 
 you know that he was dangerously wounded, do you not, in 
 that unhappy meeting?" 
 
 " Yes, I knowed that, and I was main sorry," said Charity. 
 
 " And furthermore he wished to drive over to the look- 
 out to see some other old friends of his and Mr. Webb's ; 
 and when we say good-by to you, David will go and tell
 
 37 2 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 the lookout men that he is going to present them with a 
 new boat to be called the Zaccheus Webb" 
 
 " Which I'm sure they need one, and they'll be proud to 
 have it ca'd after our master ; they often comes, the men 
 do, to ask after him, and some on 'em tries to hev a crack 
 wi' him, but they finds it 'ard to mek anything out of un, 
 and he do look at 'em sometimes that queer as you doesn't 
 knaw whether to laugh or cry." 
 
 " Who is managing his business ? " 
 
 " Oh, as for that, there baint much management in it. 
 That owd hunx William does his best, and lookout cap'n 
 he gives a sort of hand to it, and Mr. Petherick be a-takin' 
 an interest in things." 
 
 " Then you may be sure the best will be done that can be 
 done in that direction," said Mildred. 
 
 " I tek that for granted, and I hope you'll excuse me for 
 sayin' you looks hearty, miss, and I hope as prisoners and 
 other poor folk is doing pretty well ? " 
 
 " Thank you," said Mildred, " I wish I could do more for 
 them," moving toward the fire, as David rose to take leave 
 of Zaccheus. 
 
 " I must say good-by now," said David, laying his hand 
 upon the old man's arm. 
 
 " David Keith," muttered Zaccheus, " made for a sailor, 
 mortal fond o' Mira." 
 
 " Good-by, old friend." 
 
 Zaccheus held David's hand. 
 
 " It was while the Scud was laid up i' Boston," he said. 
 
 " Yes," David replied, " try and think when we used to 
 sit in the garden and talk of ships at sea and first signs of 
 the herring." 
 
 " I meant it to have been a fine weddin' when David come 
 back David Keith, young lawyer chap as aimed to be 
 fisherman ; but there, yo' nivver knaw how weather's goin' 
 to be wi' glass shiftin' up and down like a skip-jack."
 
 THE PATIENCE OF ZACCtfEUS WEBB. 373 
 
 " It will be settled weather soon," said David, " then I'll 
 come back and Mildred will come, and we will put to sea in 
 a three-master and sail right into the sunshine." 
 
 " I dunno what be a-talkin' of, but I likes to hear yo' 
 doan't leave me." 
 
 The old man turned his wrinkled and pitiful face up to 
 David, who still held the old man's trembling hand. 
 
 " I will come back," said David. 
 
 "It's a long time waitin'," the old man remarked, his 
 mind going off again to thoughts of Mira, " I'n waited and 
 waited ; but she'll come, I mek na doubt, if I can only live 
 through the storm. It's a hard un to weather ; but we mun 
 never despair." 
 
 " That's right," said David. " Good-by for the present." 
 
 Zaccheus lapsed into silence, his gaze fixed upon the 
 fire, his hands lying idly upon his knee, his worn face show- 
 ing no further signs of intelligence or life. 
 
 Mildred knelt down by his side and thought a prayer for 
 him; and as she rose, she kissed the helpless hands and said, 
 " Good-by, poor, dear broken-hearted father ! Good-by ! " 
 
 " That's wust on it," said Charity, smoothing her apron, 
 " he goes off into them fits o' unconsciousness, or whatsum- 
 ever they may be, and it'll tek me hours to rouse him." 
 
 " I am sure you are good to him," said Mildred. " Let me 
 ask you to accept this little gift, and I want you to write a 
 letter to an address I shall send you. The postage will be 
 costly, but I will give you money." 
 
 " Yes, miss. Who be I to get to write him ? " 
 
 " I forgot that you cannot write, Charity. I shall ask one 
 of Mr. Petherick's clerks to wait upon you, and you can tell 
 him what you wish to say." 
 
 "Thank you kindly," said the woman, making a 
 courtesy. 
 
 " Good-by, then," said Mildred. 
 
 David, dividing his attention between the silent figure by
 
 374 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 the fire and Mildred's leave-taking, watched the prison 
 visitor with a newborn admiration of her gentle ways and 
 her soft, sweet voice. 
 
 "A blind woman might see which way the cat's 
 a-jumpin','' said Charity to herself, as she watched Mildred 
 and David plodding over the sand-hills to the lookout 
 station. " It's a wonderful thing how ewents do come 
 about. She was always fond on him, that religious lass wi' 
 her soft ways and her insinooatin' voice, and as I says, religion 
 aint no bar to love, not a bit, though men's shy on it ; not 
 as religion ever seemed to hurt Mildred Hope so far as 
 bein' happy and the like, and even passing over a joke 
 good-natured. I never see a neater ankle, nor a nattier 
 foot. I've heard Mira say the same, and I think it made 
 Mira go to that high and mighty bootmaker as got his 
 wares, they says, from France, not as Mildred needed such 
 'elps to nattiness ; and as for her figure, well I've often said 
 the young man as gets Mildred woan't need to repine, staid 
 as they say she is, for she's blessed wi' everything, I should 
 say, as a young man might desire. I dessay that Master 
 Keith may be Master Right to her, but he's a way wi' him as 
 I never liked so well as Squire Barkstead ; but then he had 
 never the money ; the way as squire chucked his guineas 
 about well it was enough to turn a lass's head. It turned 
 mine, I knaw, and I's sorry for it ; but what's the good o* 
 sayin' ' lead us not into temptation,' when a fine-spoken 
 young feller like him comes about wi' his guineas, and his 
 dimings, and his jewels, and his nice manners, and a-singing 
 songs like a male angel, as I says to Mira many's the time? 
 Well, we never knows what's a-goin' to come to pass but 
 if them two aint made up their minds about a weddin' ring 
 and all the rest, Charity Dene's no judge, and you can just 
 count her out as no good. Hello ! dear, dear ! why you'll 
 burn your boots. Come out o' that ! 
 
 The old man slipped toward the fire until his boots rested
 
 THE PATIENCE OF ZACCHEUS WEBB. 375 
 
 on the bars. His face was curiously drawn, and his eyes 
 were full of tears. 
 
 " Come, come, master, what's the matter ? Get up, man ! 
 get up ! " 
 
 She took him by the arm, pushed his chair from the fire, 
 and he began to sob. 
 
 " That's reight now, you'll be better. I was afeard it 
 was something wuss, that a' was ! I once seed my father 
 in a fit, and it began just like that. But there, it's only 
 come from feeling a bit upset thinkin' o' things. Come, 
 master, let megie yo'a drop o' drink; that'll put you right." 
 
 She went to the cupboard and brought out a tumbler, into 
 which she poured a fair modicum of brandy and pressed it 
 to his lips. 
 
 " That's right," she said, as the old man opened his lips 
 and began to drink. " That's reight, we all 'as our feelin's; 
 and yo'n been hard put to it, that's a fact." 
 
 " Thank ! " said the old man, " thank ! " and stretching 
 his stiffened limbs he rose to his feet and walked to the 
 window. 
 
 " Want to see 'em ? They's gone to the lookout ; be 
 goin' to gie 'em a boat and call it after yo' Zaccheus 
 Webb." 
 
 "That's so," he said, leaning against the window frame, 
 his wet eyes wandering over the gray sea.
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 ALL ON A SUMMER'S DAY. 
 
 WHEN the summer came again Zaccheus Webb's bed was 
 drawn up to the window that he might, propped up on his 
 pillows, see the garden and look out to sea. 
 
 He only spoke now in whispers. Except for the hair 
 upon them, denoting a strength that had gone, his hands 
 were white, and so thin that you could count the bones in 
 them. His face had lost most of its curious puckered 
 wrinkles. A straggling beard partly concealed his mouth 
 and chin. His eyes were sunken. There was a restfulness 
 in their expression, and in the quiet mouth, that betokened 
 the approach of a painless death. He was like a ship out- 
 ward bound that waited for a favoring wind. 
 
 Beneath the window was the rustic seat where Harry 
 Barkstead had waited for David and Elmira on that day 
 when David had told the girl of his projected trip to New- 
 foundland, and had walked home afterward too trium- 
 phantly for Harry's jealous and crooked nature. The 
 dusky beauty with her golden crown and her weather- 
 beaten face still dominated the old seat. The nasturtiums 
 were climbing over her faded gown. The box-edged flower 
 beds had been somewhat neglected, but they put forth 
 radiant tributes to the sun nevertheless peonies, clove- 
 pinks, rosemary, pansies, sweet peas and the lilac and 
 laburnum were shedding their flowers upon the graveled 
 walk in a fading splendor of perfume and color. Over the 
 cottage porch a thousand rosebuds were bursting into 
 bloom, and down even to the margin of the sea the dunes 
 were decorated with waving grasses and humble flowers 
 
 376
 
 ALL ON A SUMMER'S DAY. 377 
 
 that trailed along the sands as if nature were designing a 
 carpet for fairy footfalls. 
 
 i On one of the stillest days of this sweet summertime, a 
 steam yacht, one of the first handsome vessels of the kind, 
 built for pleasure and fitted with a luxury of furniture and 
 convenience hitherto unknown in sea-going craft, appeared 
 off Caister and cast anchor. 
 
 Zaccheus saw it, Charity Dene saw it. The sun seemed 
 to give it a friendly recognition, flashing on its brass stran- 
 chions and whitening its smoking funnel. 
 
 Presently a boat was lowered. Two sailors dropped into 
 it. A woman descended by a short rope ladder. She 
 waved her hand to a gentleman in a yachting jacket as she 
 took her seat in the stern, and the two sailors pulled for 
 the shore. 
 
 The old man watched the boat, and Charity Dene 
 watched Zaccheus. 
 
 " Yo' an got eyes of late that look straight into future," 
 said the woman in a low voice. " What do yo' make on it ? " 
 
 " Mira ! " said the old man, " Mira ! " 
 
 " Pray God it be ! " said Charity, now much more gentle 
 in her manner toward the old man than when we saw her 
 last. The presence of death had softened her, and she was 
 sorry for the broken-hearted old fisherman. 
 
 " I hev prayed " said Zaccheus, lifting his head with dif- 
 ficulty so as not to lose sight of the boat. 
 
 " You be the most patient man I hev ivver knowed, 
 Master Webb," said Charity, raising his head and propping 
 him up with an extra pillow. 
 
 " I knawed she'd come," he replied, and there could be 
 no mistaking the lithe, active woman who, the boat being 
 driven right upon the beach, leaped ashore and made 
 straight for the old cottage. 
 
 Charity did not seem to have the power to leave the 
 room. There was nobody below stairs. They heard their
 
 37 8 UNDER THE GREAT 'SEAL. 
 
 visitor swing open the garden gate, heard her enter the 
 cottage, heard her call out in an impatient, anxious way, 
 "Charity ! where are you ? Father ! " 
 
 The old man looked at Charity, who responded with an 
 anxious glance toward the door. All was quiet again. 
 The visitor had evidently gone into the back part of the 
 cottage. Then the door at the foot of the stairway was 
 unlatched and a footstep was heard approaching a quiet 
 footstep, as if the visitor had suddenly learned that there 
 was sickness in the house. 
 
 The door opened. A lovely woman with a pale, tearful 
 face stood in the doorway for a moment, and then with a 
 smothered cry flung herself upon her knees by the bed. 
 
 " Mira ! " said Zaccheus, stretching a long thin arm 
 toward her, " Mira ! " 
 
 She buried her face in the bedside and with one hand felt 
 for his across the clothes. Their hands found each other, 
 Zaccheus tried to draw his child toward him, but he was 
 very feeble. 
 
 " Do 'e get up ! " said Charity, taking Elmira gently by 
 the arm. 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " said the woman, choking with her 
 tears, " I have killed him ! " 
 
 " Mira ! " said the old man, " I knawed you'd come. 
 Mira, kiss me ! " 
 
 She leaned over him and pressed a burning kiss upon his 
 mouth, and stroked his thin hair, and sobbed and cried 
 until Charity Dene could do nothing but sit down and 
 smother her own tears in her apron. 
 
 But there were no tears in the eyes of Zaccheus. On the 
 contrary, he smiled and looked happy. 
 
 " Oh ! father, father ! I have nothing to say, only I love 
 you yes, dear, I do. I was mad vain ; I " 
 
 " My dear love ! " whispered the old man ; " Mira ! I 
 knawed ye'd never let me go and not say good-by."
 
 ALL ON A SUMMER'S DAY. 379 
 
 " Father, I have one thing to say," she went on between 
 her sobs. "I am a married woman now and have a son, 
 and he will some day be an earl, and " 
 
 Zaccheus did not care whether she was married or not. 
 He heard none of the cheap explanation with which the 
 poor vain foolish woman hoped to soothe his last hours. 
 He was not at any time sufficiently trained in the ways of 
 the world to appreciate the honor which one aristocrat had 
 conferred on the mistress of another, nor to understand the 
 distinction of being the grandfather of a dishonored son. 
 He only knew that his child had come back to him. He 
 only remembered her as the bright angel of his widower- 
 hood ; his pretty, loving girl who sang " Cupid's Garden," 
 and could handle an oar with the best beachman of Yar- 
 mouth. He did not see the jewel on her finger, nor note 
 the texture of her yachting gown. He felt her hand in his ; 
 heard her voice ; she had kissed him ; he remembered 
 nothing of her but what was sweet ; and all he had to say 
 was, " Mira, love, I knowed you'd come." 
 
 The sun shone brightly on sea and garden as he slept. 
 It burned in at the window, so lavish of its beams 
 that Charity drew the blind. They both sat long by the 
 bed and watched, and Elmira remembered snatches of 
 prayers that Mildred Hope had taught her, but he did not 
 wake again. The patient soul of the Caister smacksman 
 had put to sea. It was enough for Zaccheus that her hand 
 was in his when he was signaled to lift anchor for his latest 
 voyage.
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 THE BURIED TREASURE. 
 
 THAT same sweet summer's day that saw Zaccheus Webb 
 weigh anchor for his last voyage saw Alan Keith and 
 David his son sail into the still waters of Wilderness Creek. 
 
 It was on just such a day that Alan, some thirty years 
 previously, had first discovered the secret harbor. 
 
 Here it was once more with its reflections of Demon's 
 Rock, its sandy shores, its distant range of sheltering hills, 
 and its weird and happy memories. 
 
 When David dropped the anchor of the smack Nautilus, 
 which his father had bought at St. John's, the old man, 
 after contemplating the scene for some minutes, could only 
 remark, " It's very hot, David, for Labrador." It was not 
 a romantic observation. But as the leading incidents of 
 Alan's life passed before him almost like a flash, with this 
 remarkable denouement this return to Nasquappe and the 
 harbor, and the rendezvous of his band of patriots and free- 
 booters his mind seemed to find relief in the most prosaic 
 observations. 
 
 " Is it ? " was David's none the less commonplace reply. 
 
 "Maist as hot as Spain," said Alan, "and the silence o' 
 the place reminds me o' Venice when I made excursions 
 on the lagoons i' the neight time." 
 
 " It is very quiet," said David, "and very beautiful." 
 
 " I propose we just tak' a drink, David," said the old 
 man. " As for mysel', I'll temporize the waiter wi' a bit 
 o' whusky." 
 
 As he spoke Alan drew half a tumbler of water from the 
 keg which he had sheltered from the sun at the stern of the 
 
 380
 
 THE BURIED TREASURE. 381 
 
 boat, and poured into it a modicum of whisky from a stone 
 jar, which was part of certain necessaries of food and drink 
 in a hamper stored close by. 
 
 " Here's to ye ! " said Alan, wiping his lips and passing 
 the jar to David. 
 
 " Water for me, father," said David. " I'll try your dew 
 of the mountain later, when we smoke." 
 
 " As ye will," said Alan, restoring the jar to the hamper 
 and the horn tumbler with it, " ye didna thenk there was 
 aught as fine as this i' these latitudes, eh ?" 
 
 " As fine," said David, "but not as beautiful. Why, it 
 might be one of the holiday lakes one hears about in your 
 native Scotland." 
 
 " Eh, man, ye're reight there, it's the sairt o' country that 
 gets into your brain; and I tell ye, my son, the story o' this 
 harbor is to me something like a fable o'long and long ago; 
 and yet, at the minute when we run in here as if we'd oiled 
 our keel, it was like yesterday, wi' all its strange and true 
 happenings thick in my memory." 
 
 " Don't you think we might moor the smack to yonder 
 piles ? " said David. 
 
 " The thing I was gaen to sae mysel', David, if they'll 
 houd. I remember John Preedie and Donald Nicol driving 
 them, nigh on thirty years back," said Alan. 
 
 " They look strong enough for a ship, let alone a smack," 
 said David, hauling up the anchor which he had previously 
 dropped. " Will you take an oar, father ? " 
 
 Alan thrust a long oar HI to its rowlock, David taking up 
 another and trying to use it as a pole to shove the boat and 
 steer her at the same time. 
 
 Alan laughed ; a rare habit with him. David hardly 
 remembered when he had heard him laugh, though his smile 
 was pleasant to see, and frequent. 
 
 " Ye might as weel try to sound the Atlantic wi' a mar- 
 line spike, man ; it's a' but fathomless i' the middle ; gradual
 
 3 2 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 as the shores shelve doonward, they come to the same kind o' 
 precipice as the table land above the Rock yonder, and then 
 it's watter below just as it's sky above ; pull noo, starboard ; 
 that's it, laddie, noo sling your rope ; that's got her ! " 
 
 " Hold ! " said David, straining on the rope. " Why the 
 timber is as solid as the rock." 
 
 The smack lay as still as she had lain before, her keel 
 breaking into the reflections of the noble face of Demon's 
 Rock. 
 
 " Ye see the cairns yonder amang the foothills o' the 
 rock ? " Alan asked, pointing across the sandy shore to the 
 mountain. 
 
 " Yes," David replied, pulling on his rough jacket. 
 
 " The sand, and the wind, and the bit growth o' sea- 
 thistles and the like hae been vera usefu' wha'd think o' 
 questioning the sinceerity o' tombstones on which Time has 
 written such epitaphs ! " 
 
 " They look grim and serious," said David. 
 
 " Laddie, they are grim and serious, maist o' them all 
 except the three i' the middle I ca'them the Three Graces 
 and the one to the north o' the row." 
 
 " How do you know one from the other the real graves 
 and the treasure casks ? " 
 
 " How did I ken the channel that brought us to the 
 spot ? " was Alan's reply. 
 
 David had asked his question in a non-committal inquir- 
 ing spirit, more by way of saying something than with a view 
 to question his father. He had it in his mind to prepare 
 himself and his father for the breaking up of a wild delu- 
 sion, the bursting of a bubble, the awakening from a dream ; 
 for he had never altogether, even in his most sanguine 
 moments, accepted his father's account of the buried treasure 
 as anything more than an unconscious exaggeration of some 
 more or less trivial secreting of hard-won savings, if not the 
 baseless fancy of a mind distraught.
 
 THE BURIED TREASURE. 383 
 
 " David, I hae dreamed myseP shoutin' and dancin', if 
 ever I lived to resurrect the Three Graces. I hae thought 
 o' myseP as goin' just wild when the time should come that 
 I stood here again; and it's only o' late, as ye ken, that 
 I began to think o' you by my side, my son, Hannah's 
 child. What wad ha' been the use o' the goud and things 
 wi'out ye, David ? And yet I used to dream about bein' 
 here and gloatin' ower it ; but that maun 'a' been prophetic 
 in a way, for it was surely ordained that I should find ye at 
 last, as I did. Eh, man, what a meetin* it was ! David, 
 we'll be grateful to God for it ; we'll consider ourselves 
 his stewards." 
 
 David felt his doubts increase as his father went ram- 
 bling on, never attempting to advance toward the pathetic 
 looking cemetery, with its stones packed up originally into 
 the shape of crosses, now crooked, fallen into odd forms, 
 with gray bits of weed and lichen on them, and drifts 
 of sand held together by stringy grasses. 
 
 " I couldna ha' believed that I should stand here sae 
 calm and businesslike, as if the cairns o' Wilderness Creek 
 and the mighty rock above them, to say naething about the 
 cavern beyond, were the maist commonplace things i' 
 nature. D'ye see the cavern, David ? Ye'll imagine it's 
 the entrance to a cathedral, man, when ye hae passed the 
 foothills and the cairns, sae grand is it ; and it's away up 
 above that I hae stored the other bit money and scrip I 
 telt ye of, and the wee bit huts and the rest." 
 
 David's imagination was touched with the lonely beauty 
 of the scene, the strangeness of their visit, the rock toward 
 which his father waved his long bony hand, a vast solid 
 mighty stone, as it seemed, with ridges cut into it and sharp 
 ledges, and with a tall smooth crown contrasting in a strik- 
 ing way with the jagged peaks and points of the army of 
 sentinels that took their orders, as it were, from the chief, 
 and went ranging along the coast for miles and miles, look-
 
 3 8 4 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 ing out to sea and at the same time peering up into the 
 heavens. 
 
 " Shove off the gangway, David, my son," said Alan 
 presently. " We might as well gae ashore to our work i' 
 comfort and i' order." 
 
 David made a gangway of one of several planks that lay 
 amidships with some shovels, a pickax, and other tools, 
 carefully stored out of sight under a heavy tarpaulin. 
 
 " Noo, lad, the tools ! " 
 
 While David slung a couple of shovels over his shoulder, 
 his father drew forth a pickax and a blacksmith's hammer, 
 very much like the formidable weapon that Damian, the 
 dwarf, had wielded with much deadly effect upon the Anne 
 of Dartmouth, as the reader will remember. 
 
 David was the first to step ashore. His were the only 
 footprints to be seen, of either man, bird, or animal. 
 Millions of insects seemed to start up and carry the news, 
 from tiny hillock to tiny valley, of the new and strange 
 arrival. 
 
 Shouldering his pickax and carrying the great hammer 
 in his hand, Alan Keith followed his son. Their tall 
 shadows climbed ahead as if to pioneer them to the little 
 cemetery. 
 
 " Noo, lad, we'll need the trunk," said Alan, dropping his 
 hammer and his ax. 
 
 David returned for a leather packing-case that had 
 handles fore and aft. 
 
 Father and son carried it between them. 
 
 A flight of birds rushed, screaming, from the cavern 
 beneath Demon's Rock as they approached it. Alan 
 started, David uttered an exclamation of surprise. The 
 birds disappeared among the foothills. 
 
 " When it's dark and stormy," said Alan, proceeding on 
 his way, " that's the sort o' sma' animal the sailors mistake 
 for demons and fiends and the like."
 
 THE BURIED TREASURE. 385 
 
 "I don't wonder at the superstition," said David; "the 
 sea must set in upon this coast with awful force in winter." 
 
 " It's just wonderfu' to me that we can stand talkin 1 here 
 wi' Fortune, wi' both her hands full, waitin' our pleasure," 
 said Alan, contemplating the cairns. 
 
 " Yes, it is," David replied, half reluctant to begin, with 
 the idea of some great disillusion awaiting his father. 
 
 " Noo, lad, lay to," said Alan, beginning to shovel the 
 sand away from the base of the pile of stones that covered 
 the center grave, " tak the bowlders off the top." 
 
 David inserted the pick into the interstices of the stones, 
 and then with a shovel began to clear away the sand and 
 weed beneath. 
 
 His heart was beating with a hopeful anticipation that 
 all his father had led him to count upon might come true. 
 As he worked at the unsealing of the alleged horde of gold 
 and silver, of lace and spice and amber and precious stones, 
 he thought of the great things Mildred might accomplish 
 by way of fulfilling her ambition of charity and love ; what 
 he might see of the great world, sailing round it for pleas- 
 ure ; what Petherick would say when he called on him at 
 Yarmouth ; what he might be permitted to do to smooth 
 the last days of Zaccheus Webb, little thinking that the old 
 smackman had already, on that very day, solved the great 
 mystery of all. 
 
 " Man ! " exclaimed Alan, suddenly breaking in upon 
 David's work and reflections, " what if we have been fore- 
 stalled." 
 
 " What do you mean, father ? " asked David, coming out 
 of his first real unrestricted sensation of faith in the 
 paternal promise of wealth. 
 
 " What if that man Bentz or some ither trait'rous vil- 
 lain has been here before us and robbed ye of your 
 inheritance ? " 
 
 " I thought no one else knew of your store ? " said David,
 
 386 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 with a sickening doubt of the whole business. " You said 
 they were all lost at sea when you were oveborne by the 
 might and numbers of your enemies." 
 
 " All but one," said the old man, " all but the greatest 
 villain i' the wide world ! " 
 
 " Who was he ?" David asked. " What was he ? " 
 
 "Just the maist damned traitor and vile thief your 
 imagination can conceive. But we are wastin' time, laddie ; 
 it's natural to have a stray doubt come into one's mind 
 after sae many years and when ye hae got your hand on 
 the handle o' the door, so to speak." 
 
 " I should say these stones have not been removed since 
 they were first stacked here," said David. " If there was 
 ever anything of value buried beneath them, depend on it, 
 we shall find it." 
 
 " ' If ! ' D'ye say ' if,' David ? Weel, weel, I dinna won- 
 der ye should doubt, if I can doubt, mysel' stand by, and 
 gie me the pick ! " 
 
 David stood aside, wiping his hot face and preparing 
 himself generally for the disappointment he had all along 
 feared. His father went to work with a vigor that was 
 remarkable for his years. He bent his back over the exca- 
 vation and flung out the sand in a continuous shower, sand 
 and pebbles, sand and bits of straw and sprigs of trees 
 that had been packed with the sand to bind it. 
 
 " Laddie, I believe ye're reight ; nae sacrilegious hands 
 hae been pottering about the cemetery o' Wilderness Creek 
 since the St. Dennis sailed out o' the harbor never to 
 return," said Alan, pausing in his work to catch his breath, 
 and cheer up his despondent son and comrade. 
 
 " I'm glad you think so, father," David answered. 
 
 " Gie me the pick, lad," said Alan, laying down his 
 shovel and turning up his sleeves. 
 
 Alan took the implement and, swinging it above his head, 
 brought it down upon the spot which he and David had
 
 THE BURIED TREASURE. 387 
 
 partially cleared. The pick fell with a dull thud upon 
 something that was neither sand nor rock. 
 
 " Stand by ! " he said, his eyes brightening. " Stand by, 
 David, it's a' reight, I'm thinking." 
 
 David took a step nearer to the old man, who once more 
 brought his pick down upon the place he had struck before. 
 
 " It's there ! " he exclaimed, as he drew the pick forth 
 with a tug. " It's there ! the shovel, laddie, the shovel ! " 
 
 " Let me help you now," said David, handing his father 
 the shovel. 
 
 Alan took no heed of the remark, but set to work again 
 with unsubdued energy, only to pause when he was assured 
 that at least the cask he had dug for was beneath his feet. 
 
 " It's the fresh air and the happiness ye hae brought me 
 that's made me young again," he said, as if answering the 
 point of David's admiration of his father's strength. "My 
 lad, I amna so owd that my sinews are unstrung, my mus- 
 cles dried up. Why, just noo I feel as if I were ainly 
 beginning life, and I tell ye, I dinna mean to dee for many 
 and many a year to come." 
 
 " Let me help you," said David once more, wondering at 
 the same time how even his strange and eccentric father 
 could pause to boast in the midst of the exceptional work 
 in which he was engaged, and with a vast prize or a terrible 
 blank within reach of his hand. 
 
 " Shovel the stuff away frae the sides o' the hole," Alan 
 said, as he took up the pick once more, " and gie me elbow 
 room." 
 
 David made the mouth of the excavation free from sand 
 and stones, and Alan drove the pick once more into the 
 obstruction that had gripped it. The result was a portion 
 of the end of a cask. Another attack brought up a second 
 piece, rotten and soft. Alan laid the two pieces of wood 
 within arm's length of the hole, and then, lying prone on 
 his side, thrust his right hand into it.
 
 388 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 " The Frenchman's silver flagon, sure as fate ! " h 
 exclaimed, placing upon the bank a beautifully shaped jug, 
 its golden arabesque shining out through the tarnish ol 
 the silver. 
 
 David could not speak. He stood, with parted lips, watch- 
 ing the unearthing of the treasure. 
 
 " Man, I ken them a'. I remember Preedie cramming the 
 last lot o' the bright and jeweled trinkets and what not 
 into the top of the cask. I've gotten houd o' the daggei 
 the Frenchman said he'd looted wi' a heap o f precious 
 things frae a palace i' the East ; nay, I dinna ken where, 
 Here it is, and by the might o' bonnie Scotland, there's the 
 same grand light blazing on the hilt that I remember as 
 weel as if it were yesterday." 
 
 David stooped to take the dagger, and before he had 
 looked at it, out came a metal box, with the remark of the 
 excavator, " Solid silver ! " followed by a chafing-dish, and 
 the remark, " Solid silver wi' goud ornaments " ; then a 
 wooden box, with seals upon it, with the remark "Amber "; 
 to be succeeded by other packages and curios, handed out 
 with the same lively running remarks, " A jeweled snuff- 
 box, atta' o' roses, a little idol made o' a great pearl wi' 
 diamonds for eyes and a sapphire headpiece. Man ! I 
 remember them as if it was yesterday ; the Frenchman 
 bragged o' them as he got fuddled wi' his red wine, which 
 me and my crew could just drink like watter and never 
 wink ! " 
 
 David shook himself to be sure that he was David ; that 
 he was not in bed at Yarmouth ; and then he felt inclined 
 to shout, " Father, forgive me ! I thought you were mad ! " 
 
 " What d'ye think about it, now ? " Alan asked, look- 
 ing up, his eyes ablaze, his face streaming with perspira- 
 tion, his mouth wreathed with smiles. 
 
 " I cannot think," said David. " I want to dance as you 
 thought you would."
 
 THE BURIED TREASURE. 389 
 
 " Then dance, lad ! by the Lord, I'll set ye the tune," he 
 said. " Here it is ! " And he handed David a small bag. 
 " Press it to your heart, David, and dance like your great 
 namesake, wha danced before the Laird ; for ye hae got a 
 treasure now that Mildred can build her hospital wi', and 
 set up a' her needy poor i' business from Caister to Gorles- 
 ton, and ye can build the church we promised Father Lavello, 
 in the midst o' Heart's Content; and puir owd Alan Keith can 
 raise a monument i' the forest to God's angel upon earth." 
 
 As he said these things he rose to his feet, and David 
 seized him by the hand. 
 
 " Father ! " he exclaimed, " I never thought it was quite 
 true not that I doubted your word, but it passed beyond 
 all my hopes, and now I don't know how to contain myself." 
 
 " I'll sit me doon," said Alan, " not here, I'll gae aboord, 
 I'm feelin' a trifle tired, and a wee bit thoughtfu'. Eh, man, 
 I only wish the comrades who stood here i' the past, and 
 who helped store these things were here to tak their share 
 and divide wi' me. Nay, nay ; on second thoughts I dinna 
 wish anything o' the kind, except perhaps in the case o' 
 Preedie and Donald Nicol the others wad just ha' mis- 
 applied it. David, I dinna ken quite what I'm sayin'. I'll 
 gae aboord and hae anither wee drop to steady mysel'." 
 
 " But this bag, father ? " said David, still holding the 
 small leather bag that his father had placed in his hands 
 with so many exclamations as to its value. It was a soft 
 thick leather bag, drawn together with thongs of leather. 
 It had once been sealed, but the wax was broken, and the 
 thongs had been clumsily relied. 
 
 " Preedie understood a' aboot preecious stones and the 
 like. I couldna tell them frae glass for my pairt, but Preedie 
 just loved to sit doon and finger these i' the bag finger 
 them and gloat ower them and he said they were worth a 
 king's ransom ; pearls, diamonds, sapphires, and rubies; oneof 
 the biggest diamonds was to be recut, he said; and he talked
 
 39 UNDER THE GREA T SF.AL. 
 
 o* Amsterdam, and dealers in stones, and cutters and the like, 
 that wise I often wondered if he'd been i' the trade. Open 
 the bag, David ! " 
 
 David untied the thongs, and emptied a few of the stones 
 into the palm of his hand. 
 
 " Not changed one bit," said Alan; " the same wonderfu' 
 sky blue, the same blude red, the same glassy white wi' ten 
 thousand sparks in 'em weel, David, what d'ye mak on 
 'em ? " 
 
 " I should say they are all Mr. Preedie thought them. 
 They are wonderful ! " 
 
 " A king's ransom, he said they were worth. But gin 
 there be ony mistake, why there's a barrel o' English 
 guineas and braw new shillin's, and Spanish coins that'll 
 mak amends ! " 
 
 Alan went on board the smack. David watched him 
 until he disappeared below. It was a small cabin ; bul 
 there were two bunks in it, and the old man had evidently 
 decided to lie down. David now began to think that 
 Wilderness Creek might not be quite the secret place his 
 father imagined. He suddenly felt the responsibility ol 
 wealth, and looked about him to be sure that he was nol 
 under the surveillance of some desperado. He thought oi 
 the description of the coast the captain of the Morning Slat 
 had given him, and felt if his pistol was safe in his belt 
 Then he laid his jacket over the treasures that were lyin 
 on the ground, and putting the bag of precious stones 
 beneath it, shoveled more of the sand from the mouth of thf 
 buried cask and cautiously dropped into it, stooping dowr 
 and proceeding with the work of emptying it. He haulec 
 out all kind of packages, cups, ornaments, chalices, packet; 
 of lace, flasks bound in woven reeds and sealed with seals 
 and at last concluded that it would be wise to fill the leathei 
 trunk his father had brought to carry the treasures or 
 board.
 
 THE BURIED TREASURE. 391 
 
 After awhile, looking toward the smack, he saw his father 
 sitting calmly amidships smoking his chibouk. He waved 
 his hand to the old man, who responded by raising his pipe 
 and saluting with it, as if it were a sword. Then David 
 began to pack the trunk. He laid the dagger, and all the 
 boxes that were flat, in the bottom : the quaint packages of 
 laces, the well wrapped amber, the cups and chalices, the 
 curious ornaments, a pair of jeweled belts, heavy with gold 
 and thick with rose diamonds, that did not sparkle much 
 but had a very grand and regal appearance. In a corner, 
 between soft packages and reed-wrapped flasks of perfumes 
 and strange spices, he placed the bag of stones. To keep 
 the whole fairly firm he filled the remainder of the trunk 
 with sand and dry weeds and dtbris of Old Time, of storm, 
 and stress, and heat, and cold, and proceeded to drag the 
 treasure to the smack. 
 
 " When ye hae got your treasure," said Alan, at night, as 
 they sat in the little cabin after supper, " then comes the 
 anxiety o' guardin' it. Considerin' that there is some 
 kind o' law aboot treasure trove, we hae got to be careful 
 and discreet. It is true Preedie bought most o' the land 
 hereaboots ; it is true he has endowed ye wi' the same. I 
 amna quite sure that his precautions bar what are ca'd the 
 reights o' the crown ; not that I have asked, our friend 
 Lawyer Margrave or anyone the question ; but ye will see 
 the wisdom, I am sure, o' the wee bit furnace, in which we 
 can melt down such coins and such silver as we may deem 
 best to keep in ingots, so to speak." 
 
 "I don't question your judgment in anything," said 
 David, " and I think you as wonderful as you are good. 
 To have maintained your sanity and your purpose, through 
 such sufferings and sorrows as have fallen to your lot, is 
 miraculous ! " 
 
 " Aye, 'tis in a way, David ; but I began wi' an enor 
 mous constitution. My father and grandfather, and every
 
 39 2 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 Keith I ever heard on, were mighty folk, soldiers and sailors, 
 fightin' men wi' tough sinews and big bones." 
 
 " And big hearts ! " said David. 
 
 " Ye may say that ! " Alan replied. " And yet I left my 
 ain father promising to go hame, and I didna gae hame, 
 and he deed and was buried wi'oot a hand o' mine to help 
 lay him to rest ; but he'd ha' forgiven me, if he had seen 
 your mother, David. But there, we maunna waste time talk- 
 ing o' the past sae far away. We'll sail out the morn wi' 
 our cargo, and tak it to St. John's. There's a cellar i' the 
 house that'll keep the chest, safe enough ; and -we can 
 negotiate some o' the stones and things through your 
 trustee, Mr. Margrave, who seems to be baith shrewd and 
 reliable. I induced him to remain at St. John's sae lang as 
 I might want him ; and I made him tak a fee that was 
 not out o' proportion wi' any reasonable service I might 
 require." 
 
 " It's a pity we could not trust anyone to help us," said 
 David, " I'm fearful of leaving the place." 
 
 " Ye needna be," Alan replied. " Depend upon it, i' a' 
 these years Wilderness Creek is just the lonely, unvisited 
 spot I found it when I was an adventurous young fellow, 
 and i' love wi' your dear mother, who wad often say she 
 feared I didrft quite ken hoo dreadfu' the coast was here- 
 aboot." 
 
 " You think it is best to sail home with this first portion 
 of our cargo ? " 
 
 " That's my opinion," said Alan. " Dinna put a' your 
 eggs i' one basket is a gude proverb, though I had to dis- 
 regard it when I was clearin* to defend the rebel flag as 
 they ca'd it; though it's a grand flag enough noo in general 
 estimation. Besides, laddie, we named a day to return, 
 and dinna ye think Mildred will be anxious aboot ye? " 
 
 " Of course, of course ! " said David, whose thoughts 
 were not altogether apart from Mildred while they were
 
 THE BURIED TREASURE. 393 
 
 bent upon the treasures that were to be so great a boon to 
 her as well as to himself. 
 
 " My idea is just to tak this first cargo clean hame, the 
 contents o* the one cask, and to mak two other trips per- 
 haps three. I hae thought it a' oot, David ; mair than ye 
 hae, laddie, for the reason that ye haena quite realized 
 what we hae been aboot until ye stood face to face wi' the 
 reality o' the romance I hae been telling ye aboot a* this 
 time. Dinna fash yoursel', lad, we'll land the treasure, and 
 convert it, nivver fear ! " 
 
 " I hope so," said David. 
 
 " I am sure so ! " was Alan's quick reply. " To-morrow 
 before we set sail, we'll land our furnace and set it up. It's 
 sma', but it'll do a' we require; and ye shall blow the bellows, 
 David, to the finest music ye hae heard for many a year, 
 lad; and, wi' all due reverence, we'll just worship at the altar 
 that all the world worships at. But we'll melt our golden 
 images to build hospitals wi' and mak folks happy oursel's 
 amang the rest, David we arena gaeing to forget our- 
 sel's." 
 
 Night came down dark and silent, with here and there 
 a star ; and, notwithstanding his anxieties, David slept so 
 soundly that the sun had risen, and his father was up and 
 preparing breakfast, before he awoke. 
 
 " Another glorious day," said Alan, as David rubbed his 
 eyes and sat up in his bunk, " and yesterday is true; we are 
 unearthing the treasure, ye hae come into your fortune. 
 Noo, lad, up ye get, and tak a swim i' the waiters o' Wilder- 
 ness Creek, where ye are monarch of all ye survey and 
 mair and much mair, David, my son and God bless ye, 
 lad ! "
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 DAVID'S WIFE. 
 
 AFTER frowning upon him, and pursuing him with mis- 
 adventure even unto the very Valley of the Shadow of 
 Death, Fortune smiled upon David Keith, and endowed 
 him with happiness without a drawback, beyond the com- 
 mon discounts -that belong to the natural state of man. 
 She had not altogether shielded him from the penalties of 
 his hereditary passion of vengeance ; but she had brought 
 him through the perils thereof with a far less and much 
 briefer punishment than that which had fallen to the lot of 
 his father. 
 
 Moreover, David's good fortune in this respect was 
 further secured, and guarantees given to Fate by his 
 marriage with a woman who had the power and the oppor- 
 tunity to influence him in the direction of the most perfect 
 charity. 
 
 Mildred Hope also had her reward of a silent and self- 
 sacrificing love in the realization of her most sanguine 
 hopes. She had never dared to pray for such bliss as had 
 been vouchsafed her. The reader knows that her views of 
 prayer were not in the direction of petitions for material 
 blessings. They were rather the register of her own ambi- 
 tion to do good deeds, and to be worthy of heavenly recogni- 
 tion, than supplications for this and that, and blessings 
 upon her worldly enterprises. Hoping all things good, 
 desiring power for the sake of others, she had inherited her 
 unspoken desires, and saw her way to be God's almoner. 
 
 It had been a quiet wedding, at the church where Mil- 
 dred as a girl had received her first impulse of religious 
 
 394
 
 DAVID'S WIFE. 395 
 
 faith and active charity. She was a very beaming bride, 
 despite that touch of seriousness in her manner and attire 
 that had appealed to the worldly mind of Mrs. Charity 
 Dene as not incompatible with love. Sally Mumford con- 
 fessed that she had no idea how pretty Mildred really was 
 until she saw her dressed for the wedding that made Sally 
 not less happy than the bride, herself. David had recov- 
 ered his strength, and his eye was almost as bright as his 
 father's ; his lips continually parting to laugh or say some- 
 thing expressive of his joy. He had come to love Mildred 
 with a full heart, and to feel in it that sense of rest, security, 
 and serene happiness that could not for a single day have 
 gone hand in hand in a union with Elmira Webb. Alan 
 Keith was at the wedding, erect, clean shaven, bony, and 
 wrinkled as ever, but with the deep-set eyes, prominent 
 nose, and broad wrinkled forehead that characterized his 
 first appearance in Hartley's Row. Instead of the rough 
 flannel collar that usually fell about his throat, tied around 
 with a silk scarf of some odd color, Sally Mumford had 
 induced him to put on a white linen shirt and a light blue 
 stock with a gold pin in it. Nothing would induce him, 
 however, to change his gaberdinish coat and his curious 
 vest, but the buckles in his shoes had been polished, and 
 they were nearly as white as Mildred Hope's teeth, which 
 flashed now and then between her red lips. Sally was 
 dressed in a gray silk gown with a pretty old-fashioned 
 pelisse, and her gray hair was gathered in clusters of curls 
 on each temple. Mr. Petherick gave the bride away, and 
 Mr. Margrave, the trustee under Plympton's will, was one 
 of the witnesses. Margrave had waited at St. John's until 
 the news of the loss of the Morning Star had left him noth- 
 ing else to do but return home ; and now after the wedding 
 Mr. Alan Keith had been able to give him such a fee, with 
 contingent promise of another, as induced him to accom- 
 pany the party on the wedding tour. The trip was to St.
 
 396 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 John's, this time from the London docks and by steam. 
 The voyage had been delightful, and they had reached St. 
 John's with the first warm sunbeams of an early summer. 
 
 They had rented a furnished house belonging to one of 
 the principal residents, who had been tempted to take a 
 holiday in Europe on the strength of Mr. Margrave's pro- 
 posals for the house, which the astute London lawyer had 
 made through the agent with whom he had long been in 
 communication in regard to David Plympton's bequests. 
 These testamentary gifts were chiefly in favor of David 
 Keith, the property including certain wild and waste terri- 
 tory along the coast of Labrador, and extending for some 
 distance inland above Demon's Rock. Soon after the party 
 landed, therefore, Mildred found herself mistress of what 
 was considered a very fine house for St. John's, with her 
 father-in-law, Alan Keith, Sally Mumford, and Mr. Mar- 
 grave as visitors. She proved quite equal in every way to 
 her new duties, and Sally never tired of praising her, and 
 congratulating David on his clever and pretty wife. The 
 only anxious times the two women experienced were during 
 the weeks when David and Alan were away on their excur- 
 sions to Wilderness Creek. There was no real cause for 
 anxiety, and their fears were brief ; they only belonged to 
 the hours or days when the voyagers did not return very 
 close to the times appointed ; but David and Alan could 
 not count upon the moment they might sail through the 
 natural gateway of St. John's, with their mysterious cargoes. 
 Everything had been favorable to the Labrador treasure col- 
 lectors. Mr. Margrave proved himself a valuable ally in 
 the disposal of the valuables. He made a journey to New 
 York with bullion and precious stones, and paid a very large 
 sum to David Keith's account through New York into the 
 Bank of England, besides making deposits in David's name 
 for which he brought back scrip in three of the leading 
 banks of the United States.
 
 DAVID'S WIFE. 397 
 
 The deposit which Alan made in the friendly oasis above 
 Demon's Rock, he paid without fear or reservation into the 
 Bank of St. John's. Whatever he might feel as to certain 
 of the treasures of Wilderness Creek, at least the horde he 
 had buried away in a secret corner only known to himself, 
 was without taint. It consisted of the fund made over to 
 him by his father-in-law, and in part of his own hard- 
 earned savings, when it had been settled that he and 
 Preedie should go to Salem or Boston and buy a ship to 
 fight against the buccaneering Ristack. The bank manager 
 was only too glad to welcome to St. John's the heirs of 
 David Plympton, father and son, and Alan announced his 
 own and his son's intention of promoting enterprises, both 
 commercial and charitable, bearing upon the welfare of the 
 colony. The bright-eyed old man even spoke of a railroad 
 from St. John's to the two nearest neighboring settlements, 
 and made various other wild suggestions that were quite in 
 keeping with his strange foreign appearance. The first 
 contract upon which he entered was preliminary to the 
 erection of the fine memorials which now mark the locality 
 of the last resting places, firstly, of Hannah Keith ; and, 
 secondly, of the Newfoundland dog, Sampson. The broken 
 column, with its guardian angel, that marks the grave of the 
 belle of the vanished Heart's Delight, and the monolith, with 
 its sculptured head of a dog, that stands in the shadow of a 
 group of tamaracks and other forest trees, are features of 
 Back Bay Valley sacred to memories that already belong to 
 tradition and romance. 
 
 The new Heart's Content interested Alan Keith only in 
 a negative way. It did not even suggest the village of 
 Heart's Delight, upon the ashes of which it was built. 
 There was no trace of the Great House. The fish flakes 
 were all new. The stakes, up against which the well- 
 dressed bodies of Ristack and Ruddock had floated, grim 
 tributes to the rough justice of a great revenge, had disap-
 
 39 8 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 peared. The houses were mostly of brick and stone. The 
 quay was a firm and solid piece of workmanship. There 
 were gardens, but the arbor of the Great House had been 
 burnt up in the general conflagration and clearing which 
 had been undertaken under the authority of the Great Seal 
 of England. All was changed, indeed. The inhabitants 
 had little or no record of the past. The people whom 
 Alan had known were mostly dispersed. Even to this 
 day Heart's Content has little or no record of the village 
 upon the ashes of which it was built. The oldest inhabit- 
 ant had his stories of the days of the fishing admirals and 
 of the war with America, but he was garrulous, often for- 
 got names and dates, and so varied his stories that they had 
 come to be regarded as fables. The grave in Back Bay 
 Valley, and the legend of the dog, cut into the tamarack, 
 had held their place in such romance as the district pro- 
 vided, and the valley had become a picnic ground, once in a 
 way during autumn days when the fishing was over, for 
 family parties, and the school, which was the principal 
 institution of the new town. Alan had felt a deep sense of 
 gratitude to Heart's Content on this account, and he gave 
 practical expression to it in establishing the foundation of 
 the schools and church beyond the possibility of future 
 want. 
 
 If Heart's Content disappointed Alan by its absence of 
 familiar landmarks, it was, nevertheless, the kind of fishing 
 village and harbor that he and Plympton had thought of 
 as possible at some future day. Plympton, as we all know, 
 was far less sanguine than Alan, who was imbued with a 
 prophetic sense of the destiny of the oldest British colony. 
 Ungrateful stepmother as the old country undoubtedly 
 was, Alan, with the keen-sighted prevision of a shrewd and 
 enterprising Scotchman, gauged the destiny of a territory 
 that was bound to pass through the darkness in which he 
 found it into the light of commercial prosperity, if not
 
 DAVID'S WIFE. 399 
 
 imperial distinction. Alan's hopes and prophecies have 
 been fulfilled, but the height to which his forecast pointed 
 discloses other heights which have to be climbed in the 
 confirmation of Newfoundland's rights and privileges, and 
 in fulfillment of the duty the mother country still owes 
 to her oldest and nearest colony. 
 
 In their operations at Wilderness Creek, David and Alan 
 had concluded that it would be well to concentrate their 
 attention upon the cemetery, and leave the upper regions 
 of the territory for their concluding labors. Not a soul 
 appeared in the region of Nasquappe to disturb them. A 
 couple of eagles evidently had their home on a distant cliff 
 seaward. They would sail now and then in a wide circle 
 over the harbor and disappear behind the lower ranges of 
 the hills ; at night mysterious wings would swish by them 
 as they carried their last loads to the smack bats or owls, or 
 both ; but no human voice was heard, no human footprint, 
 except their own, marked the sandy shore. 
 
 At sea, beyond the shelter of Wilderness Creek and far 
 away from the dreaded rocks and shoals, fishing ships rode 
 at anchor or trailed their nets ; otherwise the two men were 
 as much alone and safe from interruption as the men of the 
 St. Dennis had been with their added protection of look- 
 outs and sentinels. The light of the furnace which had, 
 during the favorable and lovely summer, converted thou- 
 sands of Spanish and English dollars and guineas into solid 
 ingots, and had obliterated the identity of many an antique 
 vessel, cast a lurid light upon the foothills of the entrance 
 to the cavern, and startled such winged life as had been 
 hitherto unaccustomed to any of the disturbing evidences 
 of man's ingenuity. David and Alan labored away with 
 steady persistence. They had soon become accustomed 
 to their wealth. David had long ceased to utter excla- 
 mations over every new find ; but at night, on board the 
 smack before turning in, father and son had built all kinds
 
 400 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 of castles in the air castles that even their cargo's treasures 
 were not sufficient to encompass ; and now and then David 
 would draw from his father fresh details of his adventures, 
 and the father from David hitherto unrelated incidents of 
 his first voyage and wreck. Narratives of his early days in 
 Venice would crop up in all Alan's stories ; they came as his 
 chief relief to the horrors of his slavery and imprisonment. 
 Then he would go back to Heart's Delight, and picture to 
 David the winter nights with his grandfather and his mother 
 and Father Lavello in the family circle. Considering the 
 changes that had taken place in the colony, the settled 
 peace at home, the countries covered in his father's record, 
 his own boyhood, and the remote times that Sally Mumford 
 had spoken of, the similes connected with the " Wandering 
 Jew," which Alan used now and then, seemed quite appro- 
 priate, and David found himself searching his memory for 
 other parallels to his father's strange and long career. 
 Alan told his son that, when he reached his age, he would 
 find that looking back over half a century was no more 
 than the yesterday of youthful retrospection. What made 
 the time appear a little longer than time was to persons 
 who remained in one spot all their lives, were the many 
 landmarks of varied events in different places ; but even 
 these at the last came very close together, and life after all 
 was just no more and no less than Job described it, "We 
 are but of yesterday, and know nothing, because our days 
 upon earth are a shadow."
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 A HAPPY FAMILY. 
 
 WHEN the Nautilus had made her last voyage, and Alan 
 and David had shoveled back the sand and re-erected the 
 stones above the emptied treasure casks, Alan proposed that 
 they should charter a vessel of more importance, and fitted 
 for comfort, to make a pleasant coasting trip to Wilderness 
 Creek, carrying sailors and carpenters, and certain passen- 
 gers, with a view to a few weeks' sojourn at the Berry 
 Garden, as he called the green spot above Demon's Rock. 
 David fell in with the idea, and in the waning days of 
 summer they set about carrying it out. First the treasure 
 had to be secured, and as far as possible invested. This was 
 done with the aid of Mr. Margrave, and such remainder as 
 the Keiths desired to keep intact was packed, some of it 
 in strong boxes and deposited in the bank, other stores 
 being built into the cellars of the house they had rented, 
 and which during their absence were placed in charge of 
 the police, now properly organized and a responsible body, 
 altogether different from the unofficial constabulary that 
 did volunteer service when Alan Keith first knew the 
 capital of the colony. David Plympton, besides his terri- 
 torial rights to certain tracts of lands at Heart's Content, 
 had left certain properties both at Halifax and St. John's, 
 and when Alan and his party sailed on their cruise for 
 Labrador, it was made known in a general way that they 
 were going to survey the lands that Plympton had pur- 
 chased shortly before his death. Mysterious hints were 
 thrown out that valuable minerals had been discovered 
 there, accounting for Plympton's investment, which, to all
 
 4 2 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 that had been made acquainted with it, was regarded as 
 nothing short of a mad waste of money. 
 
 There was a handsome vessel lying at St. John's which 
 exactly fitted Alan's requirements. He chartered it for the 
 trip with its captain and crew. To these he added several 
 local carpenters and a builder. By way of cargo they took 
 in an ample store of provisions, with a few articles of fur- 
 niture, a store of bedding and cushions, and other neces- 
 saries for an encampment. The passengers were Alan 
 Keith, Mr. and Mrs. David Keith, and Sally Mumford. 
 The London lawyer could not spare the time for holiday- 
 making. He had many details of business to complete in 
 connection with the Keith fortunes, and, moreover, he felt 
 that it was best for him to remain at the beck and call of 
 the local bankers and solicitors, who found themselves 
 unusually busy with investments, transfers of stocks, ship- 
 ments of bullion, and so on, not to mention the clearing up 
 of the bequests of the late David Plympton. 
 
 When the St. John's captain found himself off the point 
 where Alan desired him to shape his course for Wilderness 
 Creek, the experienced old sailor flatly refused to give the 
 necessary orders. He was not going to risk his ship, let 
 alone the lives she carried, on the word of any man. He 
 had his sailing chart. He knew the coast. Alan Keith had 
 his chart also, and he knew the coast far better, he claimed > 
 than the St. John's captain. Alan's chart was an example 
 of a most complete survey, with every rock and channel 
 clearly marked, not to mention soundings and points of 
 observation that went into almost unnecessary details. The 
 captain examined the nautical map with interest and curi- 
 osity. He admitted that there were harbors none the less 
 safe because they were comparatively unknown ; others 
 that as yet had no places in recognized charts ; he did not 
 deny that there had been instances of ships being literally 
 blown into sheltering waters where they only expected
 
 A HAPPY FAMILY. 403 
 
 destruction, and from the very rocks that had eventually 
 proved their chief protection ; indeed, he challenged none 
 of Alan's statements except that of a clean, safe channel 
 lying inside the jagged rocks at the very point upon which 
 Alan desired him to steer. After a time the captain found 
 himself leaning his back upon an argument that Alan soon 
 found means of practically combating. The St. John's 
 man said his crew would mutiny if he headed the ship for 
 what must to them seem certain destruction, even in the finest 
 weather ; one touch of such teeth as those that showed 
 black and sharp in the blue would be enough to cut a hole 
 in the stoutest ship, or hold her tight and fast until she 
 broke up. Finally, however, this last objection was over- 
 come by the lowering of a boat, and David and Alan taking 
 the oars, and having with them the mate and one of the 
 oldest hands among the crew. The sea was like a mill- 
 pond, except where it climbed about the rocks that seemed 
 to snap and bite at the waves in the mouth of the channel. 
 Alan proposed to steer. Two hours were occupied with 
 this experimental trip. The mate's report, backed by the 
 enthusiastic indorsement of the old sailor, was so emphatic 
 in Alan's favor that the ship was headed for the creek ; 
 and with a summer breeze from the sea, not more than 
 enough to carry her behind the rocks and into deep water, 
 the St. John's captain ran his vessel into the lovely harbor, 
 amid exclamations of surprise, and such expressions of 
 wonder as one might have imagined bursting from the 
 pioneer crews of Columbus and Cabot in presence of some 
 of their earliest discoveries. 
 
 Before sundown the cargo was unloaded, and portions of 
 it dragged through the cave and hauled upon the table- 
 land above the rock. Early the next morning the car- 
 penters began to transform the ruined huts and sheds of 
 the dead and gone crew of the St. Dennis into habitable 
 shelters. Within thirty-six hours the little settlement was
 
 44 UNDER THE GREA T SEAL. 
 
 complete. The sailors and workmen remained on board 
 ship. Alan and the rest, with a couple of servants, took up 
 their quarters in and around the Berry Garden. Mr. and 
 Mrs. David Keith were quite luxuriously accommodated. 
 Sally Mumford was installed head housekeeper, and she 
 and her maids had a little wooden house all to themselves. 
 Alan had his hammock slung in a cabin at the western cor- 
 ner of the garden, dominating the valley, and also having a 
 broad view of the sea and bits of the rocky coast. The 
 perfume of land flowers all the time mingled with the smell 
 of ocean weed that came up with whiffs of pungent ozone. 
 The plants, which would bear their various fruits in the 
 autumn, were in full bloom in the Berry Garden. Swallows, 
 that had built their nests on the face of Demon's Rock, filled 
 the sunny air with their brisk cries. In the early mornings 
 singing birds, with fewer notes, but gayer feathers than the 
 songsters of England, made their humble music in the 
 grove of larch and spruce and birch that dipped down into 
 the valley beyond. Butterflies winged their lazy flight from 
 flower to flower and from bush to bush. The drowsy hum 
 of bees mingled with the tiny plaints and curious signal- 
 ings of still smaller things. Nature was just as busy in 
 every direction as if all the civilized world had been looking 
 on. It is wonderful to think what myriads of communities 
 of beings, perfect of their kind, endowed with beauties 
 beyond all the arts of man, are living within the laws of 
 nature and by the Divine fiat in every part of the globe, 
 utterly irrespective of human knowledge and beyond all 
 human ken. In this vast animal kingdom, philosophers tell 
 us, the fittest survive the universal conflict for existence. 
 It must be a study of vast importance and interest to con- 
 sider the survival of the fittest in families and nations. 
 Whether they be " the fittest," or otherwise, the survivors 
 of the wrack and blight of a hard world who claim the 
 reader's undivided attention, at the conclusion of these faith-
 
 A HAPPY FAMILY. 405 
 
 ful records, are notable examples of mixed fortunes, which 
 they have borne according to their lights and natural im- 
 pulses. It has come to the hour when we have to say good- 
 by to them. It is always more or less sad to say good-by. 
 In this case one has the consolation of taking leave when 
 the glass of good fortune is at " set fair " in the lives of the 
 men and women whom we love. I hope I may say " we " 
 in this connection, for k then I shall not be alone in my 
 reluctance to turn away from the Berry Garden of Labrador 
 on this closing picture of a happy holiday. 
 
 They are sitting in the doorway of Alan Keith's log 
 cabin, the four persons who bring this history to an end. 
 It is evening. The sun has gone down. The sea is begin- 
 ning to reflect a few stars and the image of the young 
 moon. Alan Keith is smoking his long pipe. Sally Mum- 
 ford is coaxing from her knitting needles the consolation 
 of a more feminine habit. Alan does not taste the tobacco. 
 Sally only hears the chatter of her needles. They are both 
 thinking of the past, while finding their happiness in the 
 present ; for David is their happiness, David and the sweet 
 wife who is worthy to be named while they are thinking of 
 his mother. Mildred and David have arisen from their 
 low seats, to watch the last beams of the sun give way to 
 the silvery light of the crescent moon, which now looks like 
 a brooch on the bosom of the sea. They are all touched 
 by the beauty of the scene, and there is just the merest 
 suggestion of a pang in the cry of the plover that comes 
 up from the valley. They have already heard its warning 
 cry. They know the summer is over. Thoughts unbidden, 
 and reflections that come of themselves, belong to moments 
 such as these. David finds himself hoping that when the 
 last change of all comes to his father and the faithful 
 woman who sits with her knitting on her knee and her 
 thoughts far away, it will be like the summer that gradu- 
 ally fades into autumn, and goes out with a gentle sigh
 
 406 UNDER THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 that you do not know for one or the other, summer or 
 autumn. 
 
 Presently there rises up in the Berry Garden a figure 
 that looks like an antique warrior, the victorious counter- 
 part of that torn and bleeding waif of the sea who gathered 
 himself up from the jagged rocks of the cruel Bahamas and 
 faced the lances of the morning sun. 
 
 " Many a time I've stood and looked across the waters 
 and seen visions," said Alan. " Some have come true, 
 some hae mocked me i' the storm. I wonder what ye may 
 see, David, my son, as ye look out now wi' your wife by your 
 side and God's immortal stars above ye, and that wonderfu' 
 wee bit moon down yonder, sae clear and bright that the 
 sea might be the heavens, and the heavens the sea ?" 
 
 Alan put his arm about David's shoulders as he spoke, 
 and David drew Mildred still closer to his side. 
 
 " May I answer for David ?" the young and happy wife 
 asked, leaning her head against David's strong arm. 
 
 " Aye, my lassie, what do you see wi' your gentle 
 spiritual eyes ?" 
 
 " I see a great hospital with soft-voiced nurses flitting 
 from bed to bed ; I see gentle almoners visiting the father- 
 less and the widow; I see orphan waifs of the street 
 gathered into clean and homely shelters, and fed, and 
 taught to read and pray ; I hear the voices of a happy 
 choir singing in a new church at Heart's Content ; I see 
 ships of God going out into the dark waters to take com- 
 fort for soul and body to the fishermen of the North Sea 
 and their brethren of Newfoundland ; I see unsuspected 
 misery discovered by sympathetic search and restored to 
 health and work ; I see a sad world made brighter, and I 
 hear thousands blessing the name of Alan Keith." 
 
 " My child," said the old man, " if this may be so it shall 
 stand as an everlasting assurance of the unbounded mercy 
 of God to a wicked but penitent sinner."
 
 A 000 605 476 1