CHAPTER XXXII
In which our hero and Gascoigne ought to be ashamed of themselves,
and did feel what might be called midshipmite compunction.
The Aurora continued three weeks at Palermo, during which the most active search had been made for the remainder of the galley-slaves, and some few had been captured, but still Don Silvio, a considerable number, were at large; and it was said that they had retired to the fastnesses in the mountains. Our hero was constantly on shore at Don Rebiera's house, and, after what had passed, he was now looked upon as soon to become a member of the family. The difference of religion was overlooked by Don Rebiera and the relations—by all but the confessor, Father Thomaso, who now began to agitate and fulminate into the ears of the Donna Rebiera all the pains and penalties attending heretical connection, such as excommunication and utter damnation. The effects of his remonstrances were soon visible, and Jack found that there was constraint on the part of the old lady, tears on the part of Agnes, and all father confessors heartily wished at the devil ten times a day, on the part of Don Philip and his brother. At last he wormed the truth out of Agnes, who told her tale, and wept bitterly.
"Ned, I don't much like the appearance of things," observed Jack; "I must get rid of that Father Thomaso."
"You'll find that rather difficult," observed Gascoigne; "besides, if you were rid of him you would have his place filled up with another."
"He has frightened that poor old woman into the dismals, and she has the pains of purgatory on her already. I shall go and talk to Mesty."
"How can Mesty help you?"
"I don't know, but you can't; so, for want of better advice, I'll try the Ashantee." Our hero went to Mesty, and laid the difficult affair open to him.
"I see," said Mesty, showing his filed teeth, "you want him skull."
"No, I don't, Mesty; but I want him out of the way."
"How that possible, Massy Easy?—ship sail day after to-morrow. Now 'pose I ab time, I soon manage all dat. Stop a little."
"Confound it! but there's no stopping," replied Jack.
"Suppose, Massy Easy, you get leave go on shore—not come off again."
"That will be deserting, Mesty."
"By holy poker, I ab it—you go on shore and break your leg."
"Break my leg!—break my leave, you mean?"
"No, Massy Easy—you break your leg—den captain leave you shore, and leave me to take care of you."
"But why should I break my leg, and how am I to break my leg?"
"Only pretend break leg, Massa Easy. Go talk Massa Don Philip, he manage all dat. Suppose man break his leg in seven pieces, it is not possible to take him board."
"Seven pieces, Mesty! that's rather too many. However, I'll think of this."
Jack then went back and consulted Gascoigne, who approved of Mesty's advice, and thought the scheme feasible.
"If we could only pretend that we were thrown out of a caricola, you break your leg, a compound fracture of course, I break my arm—both left on shore at sick quarters, with Mesty to take care of us."
"Capital, indeed," replied Jack; "I really would not mind it if it really took place; at all events we'll overturn the caricola."
"But shall we get leave the last day?"
"Yes, it's two days since I have been on shore, for I have not liked to go to Don Rebiera's since what Agnes told me. Besides, my clothes are all on shore, and that will be an excuse for a few hours."
Our two midshipmen applied for leave the next morning to be off in the afternoon. The first lieutenant gave them permission. They hastened to the hotel, sent for Don Philip, and made him a party to their plan. He readily promised his assistance, for he had resolved that our hero should marry his sister, and was fearful of the effect of his absence, coupled with Friar Thomaso's influence over his mother. He went to the surgeon of his regiment, who immediately entered into the scheme.
Our two midshipmen got into a caricola, rattled up and down the streets, and perceiving Captain Wilson at his window, flogged the horse into a gallop; when abreast of the barracks Jack ran the wheel against a bank, and threw himself and Gascoigne out. Midshipmen are never hurt by these accidents, but fortunately for the success of the enterprise their faces were cut and bruised. Don Philip was standing by: he called the men to pick up our two scamps, carried them into the barracks, and sent for the surgeons, who undressed them, put Jack's left leg into a multitude of splints, and did the same to Gascoigne's arm. They were then put to bed, their contused faces, with the blood, left "in statu quo," while Don Philip sent an orderly, as from the commandant, to Captain Wilson, to acquaint him that two of his officers had been thrown out of a caricola, and were lying dangerously hurt at the barracks.
"Good heavens, it must be Mr Easy and Mr Gascoigne!" said Captain Wilson, when the intelligence was communicated; "I saw them galloping down the street like two madmen just now. Coxswain, take the gig on board and then tell the surgeon to come on shore immediately, and bring him up to me at the barracks."
Captain Wilson then put on his hat, buckled on his sword, and hastened to ascertain the extent of the injury. Don Philip kept out of the way, but the captain was ushered into the room by one of the officers, where he found, in two beds, our two midshipmen stretched out, the surgeon of the forces and the regimental surgeon in consultation between them, while attendants were standing by each bed with restoratives. The medical gentlemen saluted Captain Wilson, and looked very grave, talked about fractures, contusions, injuries, in the most interminable manner—hoped that Mr Easy would recover—but had doubts. The other gentleman might do well with care; that is, so far as his arm was concerned, but there appeared to be a concussion of the brain. Captain Wilson looked at the cut and blood-smeared faces of the two young men, and waited with anxiety the arrival of his own surgeon, who came at last, puffing with the haste he had made, and received the report of the brothers of the faculty.
The leg of Mr Easy fractured in two places—had been set—bone protruding—impossible to move him. Gascoigne, arm, compound fracture—contusion of the brain not certain. Now that all this would have been discovered to be false if the surgeon had been able to examine, is true; but how could he not credit the surgeon of the forces and the regimental surgeon, and how could he put the young men to fresh tortures by removing splints and unsetting limbs? Politeness, if nothing else, prevented his so doing, for it would have been as much as to say that either he did not credit their report, or that he doubted their skill. He looked at our hero and his companion, who kept their eyes closed, and breathed heavily with their mouths open, put on a grave face, as well as his brothers in the art, and reported to Captain Wilson.
"But when can they be moved, Mr Daly?" inquired the latter; "I cannot wait; we must sail to-morrow, or the next day at the farthest."
The surgeon, as in duty bound, put the question to the others, who replied that there would be great risk in moving before the fever, which might be expected the next day, and which might last ten days; but that Captain Wilson had better not think of removing them, as they should have every care and attention where they were, and could rejoin the ship at Malta. Mr Daly, the surgeon, agreed that this would be the most prudent step, and Captain Wilson then gave his consent.
That being settled, he walked up to the bed of Gascoigne, and spoke to him; but Gascoigne knew that he was to have a concussion of the brain, and he made no reply, nor gave any signs of knowing that Captain Wilson was near him. He then went to our hero, who, at the sound of Captain Wilson's voice, slowly opened his eyes without moving his head, and appeared to recognise him.
"Are you in much pain, Easy?" said the captain, kindly. Easy closed his eyes again, and murmured, "Mesty, Mesty!"
"He wants his servant, the ship's corporal, sir," said the surgeon.
"Well," replied Captain Wilson, "he had better have him: he is a faithful fellow, and will nurse him well. When you go on board, Mr Daly, desire the first lieutenant to send Mesty on shore with Mr Gascoigne's and Mr Easy's chests, and his own bag and hammock. Good heavens! I would not for a thousand pounds that this accident had occurred. Poor foolish boys—they run in couples, and if one's in a scrape the other is sure to share it. Gentlemen, I return you many thanks for your kindness, and I must accept of your promised care for my unfortunate officers. I sail to-morrow at daylight. You will oblige me by informing their friends, the Rebieras, of their mischance, as I am sure they will contribute all they can to their comfort." So saying, Captain Wilson bowed and quitted the room, followed by the surgeon.
As soon as the door was closed the two midshipmen turned their heads round and looked at each other, but they were afraid to speak at first, in case of the return of the surgeon. As soon as it was announced to them that Captain Wilson and Mr Daly were outside the barrack-gate, our hero commenced—"Do you know, Ned, that my conscience smites me, and if it had not been that I should have betrayed those who wish to oblige us, when poor Captain Wilson appeared so much hurt and annoyed at our accident, I was very near getting up and telling him of the imposition, to relieve his mind."
"I agree with you, Jack, and I felt much the same—but what's done cannot be undone. We must now keep up the imposition for the sake of those who, to help us, have deceived him."
"I don't think that you would find an English surgeon who would have consented to such an imposition."
"No, that is certain; but after all, it is an imposition that has hurt nobody."
"Oh, I do not wish to moralise—but I repent of my share in the deceit; and had it to be done over again I would not consent to it."
"Not even for——? but I won't mention her name in barracks."
"I don't know," replied Jack; "but let's say no more about it, and thank these gentlemen for their kindness."
"Yes, but we must keep it up until we see the Aurora under all sail."
"And longer too," replied Jack; "we must not let the affair get wind even on shore. We must not recover quickly, but still appear to recover. Don Rebiera and his wife must be deceived. I have a plot in my head, but I cannot work it out clear till I see Mesty."
Don Philip now came in. He had seen Captain Wilson, who had requested him to look after the two invalids, and stated his intention to sail the next morning. They consulted with him, and it was agreed that no one should be acquainted with the real fact but his brother Martin, and that all Palermo should be as much deceived as Captain Wilson, for if not, it would put Father Thomaso on the "qui vive," and make him fulminate more than ever. Our midshipmen ate an excellent dinner, and then remained in bed conversing till it was time to go to sleep; but long before that, Mesty had made his appearance with their clothes. The eyes of the Ashantee said all that was necessary—he never spoke a word, but unlashed his hammock and lay down in a corner, and they were soon all three asleep.
The next morning Captain Wilson called to ascertain how our hero and his companion were, but the room had been darkened, and he could not see their faces plainly. Easy thanked him for his kindness in allowing Mesty to attend them, and having received his orders as to their joining the ship as soon as they recovered, and having promised to be very cautious in their behaviour and keep out of all scrapes, he wished them a speedy recovery, and departed.
In little more than half an hour afterwards, Mesty, who had been peeping out of the shutters, suddenly threw them open with a loud laugh.
The Aurora was under way, with studding sails below and aloft standing out of the roads. Jack and Gascoigne got up, threw off the splints, and danced about in their shirts. As soon as they were quiet again, Mesty said in a grave tone, "Den why you stay at sea, Massa Easy?"
"Very true, Mesty, I've asked myself that question often enough lately; because I'm a fool, I suppose."
"And I, because I can't help it," replied Gascoigne; "never mind, we are on shore now, and I look for a famous cruise."
"But first we must see what the ground is we are to cruise on," replied Jack; "so, Mesty, let us have a palaver, as they say in your country."
The two midshipmen got into their beds, and Mesty sat on the chest between them, looking as grave as a judge. The question was, how to get rid of the padre Thomaso. Was he to be thrown over the mole-head to the fishes—or his skull broke—was Mesty's knife to be resorted to—was he to be kidnapped or poisoned—or were fair means to be employed—persuasion, bribery? Every one knows how difficult it is to get rid of a priest.
As our hero and Gascoigne were not Italians, they thought that bribery would be the more English-like way of doing the thing; so they composed a letter, to be delivered by Mesty to the friar, in which Jack offered to Father Thomaso the moderate sum of one thousand dollars, provided he would allow the marriage to proceed, and not frighten the old lady with ecclesiastical squibs and crackers.
As Mesty was often on shore with Jack, and knew the friar very well by sight, it was agreed that the letter should be confided to his charge; but as it was not consistent that a person in such a state as our hero was represented to be should sit up and write letters, the delivery was deferred for a few days, when after waiting that time, Mesty delivered the letter to the friar, and made signs that he was to take back the answer. The friar beckoned him that he was to accompany him to his room, where he read the letter, and then again made signs to him to follow him. The friar led the way to his monastery, and as soon as Mesty was in his cell, he summoned another who could speak English to act as interpreter.
"Is your master recovering?"
"Yes," replied Mesty, "he is at present doing well."
"Have you served him long?"
"No," replied Mesty.
"Are you very fond of him? does he treat you well, give you plenty of money?"
At these questions, the artful black conceived that there was something in the wind, and he therefore very quietly replied, "I do not care much for him."
The friar fixed his keen eye upon Mesty, and perceived there was a savage look about the black, from which he augured that he was a man who would suit his purpose.
"Your master offers me a thousand dollars; would you wish to gain this money for yourself?"
Mesty grinned, and showed his sharp-filed teeth. "It would make me a rich man in my own country."
"It would," replied the friar; "now, you shall have it, if you will only give your master a small powder."
"I understand," replied Mesty; "hab those things in my country."
"Well—do you consent?—if so, I will write the letter to get the money."
"Suppose they find me out?" replied Mesty.
"You will be safe, and you shall be sent away as soon as possible—say, will you consent?"
"The whole thousand dollars?"
"Every one of them."
"Den give me the powder!"
"Stay a little", replied the friar, who went out of the cell, and, in about ten minutes, returned with an answer to our hero's letter, and a paper containing a greyish powder.
"Give him this in his soup or anything—spread it on his meat, or mix it up with his sugar if he eats an orange."
"I see," replied Mesty. "The dollars shall be yours, I swear it on the holy cross." Mesty grinned horribly, took his credentials, and then asked, "When I come again?"
"As soon as you have received the money bring it to me at Don Rebiera's—then give the powder: as soon as it is given you must let me know, for you must not remain in Palermo. I will myself conduct you to a place of safety."
Mesty then quitted the cell, and was shown out of the monastery.
"By de holy poker, he one d—n rascal!" muttered Mesty, as he was once in the open air. "But stop a little."
The Ashantee soon arrived at the barracks, and repeated the whole of the conference between him and Friar Thomaso.
"It must be poison, of course," observed Gascoigne; "suppose we try it upon some animal?"
"No, Massa Gascoigne," replied Mesty, "I try it myself, by-and-bye. Now what we do?"
"I must give you the order for the thousand dollars, Mesty," replied Jack. "The rascal here writes to me that for that sum, he will consent not only not to oppose me, but agrees to assist my cause; but the great question is, whether he will keep his word with you, Mesty; if not, I shall lose my money. So therefore we must now have another palaver, and argue the point."
The point was argued between Jack and Gascoigne. A thousand dollars was a large sum, but Jack's father was a philosopher. After many pros and cons, it was at last decided that the money should be given to Mesty; but Mesty should state, when he took the money to the friar, that he had administered the powder, and claim it when he presented it.
The next day, the order for the money was given to Mesty, and he went to Friar Thomaso with it. The friar hastened with Mesty to the monastery, and sent for the interpreter.
"You have given it?" inquired the friar.
"Yes—not one hour ago. Here de order for de money."
"You must run for the money before he is dead, for the powder is very rapid."
"And me," replied Mesty, apparently much alarmed, "where am I to go?"
"As soon as you bring the money here, you must go back to the barracks. Remain there till he is dead, and then return here. I will have all ready, and take you, as soon as it is dusk, to a monastery of our order in the mountains, where no one will think of looking for you, till the affair is blown over; and then I will find you a passage in some vessel out of the island."
Mesty hastened for the money, and taking it in a large bag to the monastery, delivered it to the friar's charge, and then returned to the barracks to Easy and Gascoigne. It was agreed that he should go with the friar, who would probably remain away some time; indeed, Mesty insisted upon so doing. Mesty stayed two hours, and then returned about dusk to the monastery, and reported the death of our hero. He remained there until it was dark, and then the friar ordered him to tie the bag of dollars to his saddle-bow. They mounted two mules, which stood already caparisoned, and quitted Palermo.
In the morning Don Philip, as usual, made his appearance, and told our hero that the friar had been summoned away by the abbot, and would not return for some time.
"I came to tell you this news," said Don Philip, "as I thought it would please you; the sooner you are now well the better. I mean to propose your being both removed to my father's palazzo, and then you can recover your lost ground during the confessor's absence."
"And I have the means," replied Jack, showing the friar's letter. Don Philip read it with astonishment, but was still more surprised when he heard the whole story from Jack. He was for a time silent: at last he said,—
"I am sorry for your poor black." "Why so?" replied Jack.
"You will never see him again, depend upon it. A thousand dollars would sign the death warrant of a thousand blacks; but there is another reason—they will put him out of the way, that he may not give evidence. Where is the powder?"
"Mesty has it; he would not part with it."
"He is a shrewd fellow, that black; he may be too much for the friar," replied Don Philip.
"He means mischief, I'm sure," replied Gascoigne.
"Still I feel a great deal of alarm about him," replied Easy; "I wish now that I had not let him go."
"Are you sure that he went?"
"No, I am not; but the friar told him that he should take him to the mountains as soon as it was dark."
"And probably he will," replied Don Philip, "as the best place to get rid of him. However, the whole of this story must be told both to my father and my mother; to the former, that he may take the right measures, and to my mother, that it may open her eyes. Give me the copy of the letter you wrote to the friar, and then I shall have it all."
The report of the accident which had occurred to Easy and Gascoigne had been spread and fully believed throughout Palermo. Indeed, as usual, it had been magnified, and asserted that they could not recover. To Agnes only had the case been imparted in confidence by Don Philip, for her distress at the first intelligence had been so great that her brother could not conceal it.
Two days after Don Philip had made his parents acquainted with the villainy of the friar, the midshipmen were transported to the palazzo, much to the surprise of everybody, and much to the renown of the surgeons, who were indemnified for their duplicity and falsehood by an amazing extension of their credit as skilful men.
After their arrival at the palazzo, Don Rebiera was also entrusted with the secret, but it went no farther. As now there was no particular hurry for our hero to get well, he was contented and happy in the society of Agnes and her parents; the old lady, after she had been informed of the conduct of Friar Thomaso, having turned round in our hero's favour, and made a vow never to have a confessor in the house again. Jack and Gascoigne were now as happy as could be; all their alarm was about Mesty, for whose return they were most anxious.
To Don Rebiera, Jack made known formally his intentions with regard to Agnes. He fully satisfied him as to his qualifications and his property, and Don Rebiera was fully aware of his debt of gratitude to our hero. But all he required was the consent of Jack's father, and until this was obtained, he would not consent to the marriage taking place. Jack attempted to argue the point; his father, he said, had married without consulting him, and therefore he had a right to marry without consulting his father. But Don Rebiera, not having any acquaintance with the rights of man and equality, did not feel the full force of Jack's argument, and made it a sine qua non that his parents should write and consent to the alliance before it took place.
CHAPTER XXXIII
In which Mesty should be called throughout Mephistopheles,
for it abounds in black cloaks, disguises, daggers, and dark deeds.
On the fourth evening after the removal of our two midshipmen to the palazzo of Don Rebiera, as they were sitting in company with Agnes and Don Philip in their own room, a friar made his appearance at the door. They all started, for by his height they imagined him to be Friar Thomaso, but no one addressed him. The friar shut the door without saying a word, and then lifting up his cowl, which had been drawn over it, discovered the black face of Mesty. Agnes screamed, and all sprang from their seats at this unusual and unexpected apparition. Mesty grinned, and there was that in his countenance which said that he had much to communicate.
"Where is the friar—Mesty?" inquired Easy.
"Stop a little, Massa—suppose we lock door first, and den I tell all."
Taking this precaution, Mesty threw off the friar's gown, and appeared in his own dress, with the bag of dollars slung round his body.
"Now, Massa Easy, I hab a long story to tell—so I tink I better begin at the beginning."
"It is the most approved method," replied Jack, "but stop when I hold up my finger, that we may translate what you say to the lady and Don Philip."
"Dat all right, sar. Friar and I get on two mule as soon as it quite dark. He make me carry all tousand dollars—and we ride out of town. We go up mountain and mountain, but the moon get up shine and we go on cheek by jowl—he nebber say one word, and I nebber say one word, 'cause I no speak his lingo, and he no understand my English. About two o'clock in de morning, we stop at a house and stay dere till eight o'clock, and den we go on again all next day, up all mountain, only stop once, eat a bit bread and drink lilly wine. Second night come on, and den we stop again, and people bow very low to him, and woman bring in rabbit for make supper. I go in the kitchen, woman make stew smell very nice, so I nod my head, and I say very good, and she make a face, and throw on table black loaf of bread and garlic, and make sign dat for my supper; good enough for black fellow, and dat rabbit stew for friar. Den I say to myself, stop a little; suppose friar hab all de rabbit, I tink I give him a lilly powder."
"The powder, Mesty?" exclaimed Jack.
"What does he say?" inquired Don Philip.
Gascoigne translated all that Mesty had communicated. The interest of the narrative now became exciting. Mesty continued:—
"Well, Massa Easy, den woman she go for dish to put stew in, and I take de powder and drop it in de pot, and den I sit down again and eat black bread, she say good enough for black man. She tir up de stew once more, and den she pour it out into dish, and take it to friar. He lick um chops, by all de powers, and he like um so well he pick all de bones, and wipe up gravy with him bread. You tink it very nice, Massa Friar, tink I; but stop a little. After he drink a whole bottle of wine, he tell me bring mules to de door, and he put him hands on de woman head, and dat de way he pay for him supper.
"The moon shone bright, and we go up all mountain, always go up, and 'bout two hour, he get off him mule and he put him hand so, and set down on de rock. He twist, and he turn, and he groan, for half an hour, and den he look at me, as much as to say, you black villain, you do this? for he not able to speak, and den I pull out de paper of de powder, and I show him, and make him sign he swallow it: he look again, and I laugh at him and he die."
"Oh, Mesty, Mesty," exclaimed our hero; "you should not have done that, there will mischief come from it."
"Now he dead, Massa Easy, so much less mischief."
Gascoigne then interpreted to Don Philip and Agnes, the former of whom looked very grave, and the latter terrified.
"Let him go on," said Don Philip; "I am most anxious to hear what he did with the body."
Mesty, at the request of our hero, proceeded: "Den I thought what I should do, and I said I would hide him, and I tink I take his coat for myself, so I pull off him coat and I pull off all his oder clothes—he not wear many—and I take the body in my arm, and carry him where I find a great split in de rock above all road. I throw him in, and den I throw plenty large pieces rock on him till I no see him any more; den I take de two mules and get on mine wid de dollars, and lead de other three four mile, till I come to a large wood—take off him saddle and bridle, turn him adrift. Den I tear up all clothes all in lilly bits, hide one piece here, noder piece dere, and de saddle and bridle in de bush. All right, now, I say so I put on friar cloak, hide my face, get on my mule, and den I look where I shall go—so I say, I not be in dis road anyhow, I pass through wood till I find nother. I go 'bout two mile—moon go down, all dark, and five six men catch hold my bridle, and they all got arms, so I do noting—they speak to me, but I no answer, and nebber show my face. They find all dollars (d—n um) fast enough, and they lead me away through the wood. Last we come to a large fire in de wood, plenty of men lie about, some eat and some drink. They pull me off, and I hold down my head and fold my arms, just like friar do. They bring me along to one man, and pour out all my dollar before him. He give some order, and they take me away, and I peep through the cloak, and I say to myself, he that d—n galley-slave rascal Don Silvio."
"Don Silvio!" cried Jack. "What does he say of Don Silvio?" demanded Don Philip. Mesty's narrative was again translated, and he continued.
"Dey led me away about fifty yards, tie me to tree, and den they leave me, and dey all drink and make merry, nebber offer me anything, so, I hab noting den to eat; I eat de ropes and gnaw them through and den I stay there two hour until all go asleep, and all quiet; for I say to myself, stop a little. Den when dey all fast asleep, I take out my knife and I crawl 'long de ground, as we do in our country sometime—and den I stop and look 'bout me; no man watch but two, and dey look out for squarl, not look in board where I was. I crawl again till I lay down alongside that d—n galley-slave Don Silvio. He lie fast asleep with my bag thousand dollars under him head. So I tink, 'you not hab dem long, you rascal. I look round—all right, and I drive my knife good aim into him heart and press toder hand on him mouth, but he make no noise; he struggle little and look up, and den I throw off de head of de gown and show him my black face, and he look and he try to speak; but I stop dat, for down go my knife again, and de d—n galley-slave dead as herring."
"Stop, Mesty, we must tell this to Don Philip," said Gascoigne.
"Dead! Don Silvio dead! well, Mesty, we are eternally obliged to you, for there was no safety for my father while he was living. Let him go on."
"So when I put de knife through his body, I lie down by him as if noting had happened, for ten minutes, and den I take de bag of dollars from under him head, and den I feel him all over, and I find him pistols and him purse, which I hab here, all gold. So I take them and I look—all asleep, and I crawl back to de tree. Den I stay to tink a little; de man on watch come up and look at me, but he tink all right and he go away again. Lucky ting, by de power, dat I go back to tree. I wait again, and den I crawl and crawl till I clear of all, and den I take to my heel and run for um life, till daylight come, and den I so tired I lie down in bush; I stay in bush all day, and den I set off again back here, for I find road and know my way. I not eat den for one day and one night, and come to house where I put my head in and find woman there. I not able to speak, so I help myself, and not show my face. She not like dat and make a bobbery, but I lift up my cloak and show my black face and white teeth, and den she tink me de debil. She run out of de house and I help myself very quick, and den set off and come close here yesterday morning. I hide myself all day and come in at night, and now, Massa Easy, you ab haf de whole truth and you ab your tousand dollars—and you ab got rid of de rascal friar and de d—n galley-slave, Don Silvio."
"Tell them all this, Ned," said Jack, who, whilst Gascoigne was so employed, talked with Mesty.
"I was very much frightened for you, Mesty," said Jack; "but still I thought you quite as cunning as the friar, and so it has turned out; but the thousand dollars ought to be yours."
"No, sar," replied Mesty, "the dollars not mine; but I hab plenty of gold in Don Silvio's purse—plenty, plenty of gold. I keep my property, Massa Easy, and you keep yours."
"I'm afraid that this affair may be found out, Mesty; the woman will spread the report of having been attacked by a black friar, and that will lead to suspicion, as the other friars of the convent knew that you left with Friar Thomaso."
"So I tink dat, but when a man starve, he quite forget his thought."
"I don't blame you; but now I must talk to Don Philip."
"Suppose you no objection, while you talk I eat something from the table then, Massa Easy, for I hungry enough to eat de friar, mule and all."
"Eat, my good fellow, and drink as much as you please."
The consultation between our two midshipmen and Don Philip was not long: they perceived the immediate necessity for the departure of Mesty, and the suspicion which would attach to themselves. Don Philip and Agnes left them, to go to Don Rebiera, and make him acquainted with what had passed, and to ask his advice.
When they went into the room, Don Rebiera immediately accosted his son.
"Have you heard, Philip, that Friar Thomaso has returned at last?—so the servants tell me."
"The report may be fortunate," replied Don Philip; "but I have another story to tell you."
He then sat down and imparted to Don Rebiera all the adventures of Mesty. Don Rebiera was for some time in deep thought; at last he replied,—
"That Don Silvio is no more is fortunate, and the negro would be entitled to reward for his destruction—but for the friar, that is a bad business. The negro might remain and tell the whole story, and the facts might be proved by the evidence of Signor Easy, and the letters; but what then? we should raise the whole host of the clergy against our house, and we have suffered too much from them already; the best plan would be the immediate departure, not only of the negro but of our two young friends. The supposition of Friar Thomaso being here, and their departure with the negro servant to rejoin their ship, will remove much suspicion and destroy all inquiry. They must be off immediately. Go to them, Philip, and point out to them the absolute necessity of this measure, and tell our young friend that I rigidly adhere to my promise, and as soon as he has his father's sanction I will bestow upon him my daughter. In the meantime I will send down and see if a vessel can be chartered for Malta."
Our hero and Gascoigne fully admitted the wisdom of this measure, and prepared for their departure; indeed, now that Don Rebiera's resolution had been made known to our hero, he cared more for obtaining his father's consent than he did for remaining to enjoy himself at Palermo; and before noon of the next day all was ready, the vessel had been procured, Jack took his leave of Agnes and her mother, and, accompanied by Don Rebiera and Don Phillip (for Don Martin was on duty a few miles from Palermo), went down to the beach, and, having bid them farewell, embarked with Gascoigne and Mesty on board of the two-masted lateen which had been engaged, and before sunset not a steeple of Palermo was to be seen.
"What are you thinking of, Jack?" said Gascoigne, after our hero had been silent half an hour.
"I have been thinking, Ned, that we are well out of it."
"So do I," replied Gascoigne; and here the conversation dropped for a time.
"What are you thinking of now, Jack?" said Gascoigne, after a long pause.
"I've been thinking that I've a good story for the old Governor."
"Very true," replied Gascoigne; and both were again silent for some time.
"What are you thinking of now, Jack?" said Gascoigne, after another long interval.
"I've been thinking that I shall leave the service," replied Jack.
"I wish you would take me with you," replied Gascoigne, with a sigh; and again they were both in deep contemplation.
"What are you thinking of now, Jack?" said Gascoigne again.
"Of Agnes," replied our hero.
"Well, if that's the case, I'll call you when supper's ready. In the meantime I'll go and talk with Mesty."
CHAPTER XXXIV
Jack leaves the service, in which he had no business,
and goes home to mind his own business.
On the fourth day they arrived at Malta, and our two midshipmen, as soon as they had settled with the padrone of the vessel, went up to the government house. They found the Governor in the veranda, who held out both his hands, one to each.
"Glad to see you, my lads. Well, Jack, how's the leg—all right? don't limp? And your arm, Gascoigne?"
"All right, sir, and as sound as ever it was," replied they both.
"Then you're in luck, and have made more haste than you deserve, after your mad pranks: but now sit down, and I suppose, my friend Jack, you have a story to tell me."
"O yes, Sir Thomas, and a very long one."
"Then I won't have it now, for I expect people on business; we'll have it after dinner. Get your things up and take possession of your rooms. The Aurora sailed four days ago. You've had a wonderful recovery."
"Wonderful, sir!" replied our hero; "all Palermo rings with it."
"Well you may go now—I shall see you at dinner. Wilson will be delighted when he hears that you have got round again, for he was low-spirited about it, I can tell you, which is more than you deserve."
"He's right there," said our hero to Gascoigne, as they walked away.
When dinner was over, Jack narrated to the Governor the adventures of Mesty, with which he was much interested; but when they were quite alone in the evening, the Governor called our two midshipmen into the veranda, and said:
"Now my lads, I'm not going to preach, as the saying is, but I've been long enough in the world to know that a compound fracture of the leg is not cured in fourteen or sixteen days. I ask you to tell me the truth. Did not you deceive Captain Wilson on this point?"
"I am ashamed to say that we did, sir," replied Easy.
"How did you manage that, and why?"
Jack then went into further details relative to himself and his amour, stating his wish to be left behind, and all that had passed.
"Well, there's some excuse for you, but none for the surgeons. If any surgeon here had played such a trick, I would have hung him, as sure as I'm Governor. This affair of yours has become serious. Mr Easy, we must have some conversation on the matter to-morrow morning."
The next morning the packet from England was reported off the harbour's mouth. After breakfast the letters were brought on shore, and the Governor sent for our hero.
"Mr Easy, here are two letters for you; I am sorry to say, with black seals. I trust that they do not bring the intelligence of the death of any very near relative."
Jack bowed without speaking, took the letters, and went to his room. The first he opened was from his father.
"MY DEAR JOHN,
"You will be much grieved to hear that your poor mother, after sitting in the corner for nearly two years waiting for the millennium, appeared to pine away; whether from disappointment or not I do not know; but at last, in spite of all Dr Middleton could do, she departed this life; and, as the millennium would not come to her as she expected, it is to be hoped she is gone to the millennium. She was a good wife, and I always let her have her own way. Dr Middleton does not appear to be satisfied as to the cause of her death, and has wished to examine; but I said no, for I am a philosopher, and it is no use looking for causes after effects; but I have done since her death what she never would permit me to do during her life. I have had her head shaved, and examined it very carefully as a phrenologist, and most curiously has she proved the truth of the sublime science. I will give you the result. Determination, very prominent; Benevolence, small; Caution, extreme; Veneration, not very great; Philoprogenitiveness, strange to say, is very large, considering she has but one child; Imagination, very strong: you know, my dear boy, she was always imagining some nonsense or another. Her other organs were all moderate. Poor dear creature! she is gone, and we may well wail, for a better mother or a better wife never existed. And now, my dear boy, I must request that you call for your discharge, and come home as soon as possible. I cannot exist without you, and I require your assistance in the grand work I have in contemplation. The time is at hand, the cause of equality will soon triumph; the abject slaves now hold up their heads; I have electrified them with my speeches, but I am getting old and feeble; I require my son to leave my mantle to, as one prophet did to another, and then I will, like him, ascend in glory.
"Your affectionate Father,
"NICODEMUS EASY".
From this it would appear, thought Jack, that my mother is dead, and that my father is mad. For some time our hero remained in a melancholy mood; he dropped many tears to the memory of his mother, whom, if he had never respected, he had much loved: and it was not till half an hour had elapsed, that he thought of opening the other letter. It was from Dr Middleton.
"MY DEAR BOY,
"Although not a correspondent of yours, I take the right of having watched you through all your childhood, and from a knowledge of your disposition, to write you a few lines. That you have, by this time, discarded your father's foolish, nonsensical philosophy, I am very sure. It was I who advised your going away for that purpose, and I am sure, that, as a young man of sense, and the heir to a large property, you will before this have seen the fallacy of your father's doctrines. Your father tells me that he has requested you to come home, and allow me to add any weight I may have with you in persuading you to do the same. It is fortunate for you that the estate is entailed, or you might soon be a beggar, for there is no saying what debts he might, in his madness, be guilty of. He has already been dismissed from the magistracy by the lord-lieutenant, in consequence of his haranguing the discontented peasantry, and I may say, exciting them to acts of violence and insubordination. He has been seen dancing and hurrahing round a stack fired by an incendiary. He has turned away his keepers, and allowed all poachers to go over the manor. In short, he is not in his senses; and, although I am far from advising coercive measures, I do consider that it is absolutely necessary that you should immediately return home, and look after what will one day be your property. You have no occasion to follow the profession, with eight thousand pounds per annum. You have distinguished yourself, now make room for those who require it for their subsistence. God bless you. I shall soon hope to shake hands with you.
"Yours most truly,
"G. MIDDLETON."
There was matter for deep reflection in these two letters, and Jack never felt before how much his father had been in the wrong. That he had gradually been weaned from his ideas was true, but still he had, to a certain degree, clung to them, as we do to a habit; but now he felt that his eyes were opened; the silly, almost unfeeling letter of his father upon the occasion of his mother's death, opened his eyes. For a long while Jack was in a melancholy meditation, and then casting his eyes upon his watch, he perceived that it was almost dinner-time. That he could eat his dinner was certain, and he scorned to pretend to feel what he did not. He therefore dressed himself and went down, grave, it is true, but not in tears. He spoke little at dinner, and retired as soon as it was over, presenting his two letters to the Governor, and asking his advice for the next morning. Gascoigne followed him, and to him he confided his trouble; and Ned, finding that Jack was very low-spirited, consoled him to the best of his power, and brought a bottle of wine which he procured from the butler. Before they returned to bed, Jack had given his ideas to his friend, which were approved of, and wishing him a good-night, he threw himself into bed, and was soon fast asleep.
"One thing is certain, my good fellow," observed the Governor to our hero, as he gave him back his letters at the breakfast table the next morning; "that your father is as mad as a March hare. I agree with that doctor, who appears a sensible man, that you had better go home immediately."
"And leave the service altogether, sir?" replied Jack.
"Why, I must say, that I do not think you exactly fitted for it. I shall be sorry to lose you, as you have a wonderful talent for adventure, and I shall have no more yarns to hear when you return; but, if I understand right from Captain Wilson, you were brought into the profession because he thought that the service might be of use in eradicating false notions, rather than from any intention or necessity of your following it up as a profession."
"I suspect that was the case, sir," replied Jack; "as, for my own part, I hardly know why I entered it."
"To find a mare's nest, my lad; I've heard all about it; but never mind that: the question is now about your leaving it, to look after your own property, and I think I may venture to say, that I can arrange all that matter at once, without referring to Admiral or captain. I will be responsible for you, and you may go home in the packet, which sails on Wednesday for England."
"Thank you, Sir Thomas, I am much obliged to you," replied Jack.
"You, Mr Gascoigne, I shall, of course, send out by the first opportunity to rejoin your ship."
"Thank you, Sir Thomas, I am much obliged to you," replied Gascoigne, making a bow.
"You'll break no more arms, if you please, sir," continued the Governor; "a man in love may have some excuse in breaking his leg, but you had none."
"I beg your pardon, sir; if Mr Easy was warranted in breaking his leg out of love, I submit that I could do no less than break my arm out of friendship."
"Hold your tongue, sir, or I'll break your head from the very opposite feeling," replied the Governor, good-humouredly. "But observe, young man, I shall keep this affair secret, as in honour bound; but let me advise you, as you have only your profession to look to, to follow it up steadily. It is high time that you and Mr Easy were separated. He is independent of the service, and you are not. A young man possessing such ample means will never be fitted for the duties of a junior officer. He can do no good for himself, and is certain to do much harm to others: a continuance of his friendship would probably end in your ruin, Mr Gascoigne. You must be aware, that if the greatest indulgence had not been shown to Mr Easy by his captain and first lieutenant, he never could have remained in the service so long as he has done."
As the Governor made the last remark in rather a severe tone, our two midshipmen were silent for a minute. At last Jack observed, very quietly,—
"And yet, sir, I think, considering all, I have behaved pretty well."
"You have behaved very well, my good lad, on all occasions in which your courage and conduct, as an officer, have been called forth. I admit it; and had you been sent to sea with a mind properly regulated, and without such an unlimited command of money, I have no doubt but that you would have proved an ornament to the service. Even now I think you would, if you were to remain in the service under proper guidance and necessary restrictions, for you have, at least, learnt to obey, which is absolutely necessary before you are fit to command. But recollect, what your conduct would have brought upon you, if you had not been under the parental care of Captain Wilson. But let us say no more about that: a midshipman with the prospect of eight thousand pounds a year is an anomaly which the service cannot admit, especially when that midshipman is resolved to take to himself a wife."
"I hope that you approve of that step, sir."
"That entirely depends upon the merit of the party, which I know nothing of, except that she has a pretty face, and is of one of the best Sicilian families. I think the difference of religion a ground of objection."
"We will argue that point, sir," replied Jack.
"Perhaps it will be the cause of more argument than you think for, Mr Easy; but every man makes his own bed, and as he makes it, so must he lie down in it."
"What am I to do about Mesty, sir? I cannot bear the idea of parting with him."
"I am afraid that you must; I cannot well interfere there."
"He is of little use to the service, sir; he has been sent to sick quarters as my servant: if he may be permitted to go home with me, I will procure his discharge as soon as I arrive, and send him on board the guard-ship till I obtain it."
"I think that, on the whole, he is as well out of the service as in it, and therefore I will, on consideration, take upon myself the responsibility, provided you do as you say."
The conversation was here ended, as the Governor had business to attend to, and Jack and Gascoigne went to their rooms to make their arrangements.
"The Governor is right," observed Gascoigne; "it is better that we part, Jack. You have half unfitted me for the service already; I have a disgust of the midshipmen's berth; the very smell of pitch and tar has become odious to me. This is all wrong; I must forget you and all our pleasant cruises on shore, and once more swelter in my greasy Jacket. When I think that, if our pretended accidents were discovered, I should be dismissed the service, and the misery which that would cause to my poor father, I tremble at my escape. The Governor is right, Jack; we must part, but I hope you never will forget me."
"My hand upon it, Ned. Command my interest, if ever I have any—my money—what I have, and the house, whether it belongs to me or my father—as far as you are concerned at least, I adhere to my notions of perfect equality."
"And abjure them, I trust, Jack, as a universal principle."
"I admit, as the Governor asserts, that my father is as mad as a March hare."
"That is sufficient; you don't know how glad it makes me to hear you say that."
The two friends were inseparable during the short time that they remained together. They talked over their future prospects, their hopes and anticipations, and when the conversation flagged, Gascoigne brought up the name of Agnes.
Mesty's delight at leaving the service, and going home with his patron was indescribable. He laid out a portion of his gold in a suit of plain clothes, white linen shirts, and in every respect the wardrobe of a man of fashion; in fact, he was now a complete gentleman's gentleman; was very particular in frizzing his woolly hair—wore a white neck-cloth, gloves, and cane. Every one felt inclined to laugh when he made his appearance; but there was something in Mesty's look, which, at all events, prevented their doing so before his face. The day for sailing arrived. Jack took leave of the Governor, thanking him for his great kindness, and stating his intention of taking Malta in his way out to Palermo in a month or two. Gascoigne went on board with him, and did not go down the vessel's side till it was more than a mile clear of the harbour.