Foul Play - Dion Boucicault (the best books to read txt) 📗

class="calibre1">The Proserpine was to sail at two o’clock. At a little before one, a gentleman boarded her and informed the captain that he was a missionary, the Rev. John Hazel, returning home, after a fever; and wished to take a berth in the Proserpine.

The mate looked him full in the face; and then told him there was very little accommodation for passengers, and it had all been secured by White & Co. for a young lady and her servants.

Mr. Hazel replied that his means were small and moderate accommodation would serve him; but he must go to England without delay.

Captain Hudson put in his gracious word: “Then jump off the jetty at high tide and swim there; no room for black coats in my ship.”

Mr. Hazel looked from one to the other piteously. “Show me some mercy, gentlemen; my very life depends on it.”

“Very sorry, sir,” said the mate; “but it is impossible. There’s the Shannon, you can go in her.”

“But she is under repairs; so I am told.”

“Well, there are a hundred and fifty carpenters on to her; and she will come out of port in our wake.”

“Now, sir,” said Hudson roughly, “bundle down the ship’s side again if you please; this is a busy time. Hy!—rig the whip; here’s the lady coming off to us.”

The missionary heaved a deep sigh and went down into the boat that had brought him. But he was no sooner seated than he ordered the boatmen, somewhat peremptorily, to pull ashore as fast as they could row. His boat met the Rollestons, father and daughter, coming out, and he turned his pale face and eyed them as he passed. Helen Rolleston was struck with that sorrowful countenance, and whispered her father, “That poor clergyman has just left the ship.” She made sure he had been taking leave of some beloved one, bound for England. General Rolleston looked round, but the boats had passed each other, and the wan face was no longer visible.

They were soon on board and received with great obsequiousness. Helen was shown her cabin, and, observing the minute and zealous care that had been taken of her comfort, she said, “Somebody who loves me has been here,” and turned her brimming eyes on her father. He looked quite puzzled; but said nothing.

Father and daughter were then left alone in the cabin till the ship began to heave her anchor (she lay just at the mouth of the harbor), and then the boatswain was sent to give General Rolleston warning. Helen came up with him, pale and distressed. They exchanged a last embrace and General Rolleston went down the ship’s side. Helen hung over the bulwarks and waved her last adieu, though she could hardly see him for her tears.

At this moment a four-oared boat swept alongside, and Mr. Hazel came on board again. He presented Hudson a written order to give the Rev. John Hazel a passage in the small berth abreast the main hatches. It was signed “For White & Co., James Seaton;” and was indorsed with a stamped acknowledgment of the passage money, twenty-seven pounds.

Hudson and Wylie, the mate, put their heads together over this. The missionary saw them consulting, and told them he had mentioned their mysterious conduct to Messrs. White & Co., and that Mr. Seaton had promised to stop the ship if their authority was resisted. “And I have paid my passage money, and will not be turned out now except by force,” said the reverend gentleman quietly.

Wylie’s head was turned away from Mr. Hazel’s, and on its profile a most gloomy, vindictive look; so much so that Mr. Hazel was startled when the man turned his front face to him with a jolly, genial air and said, “Well, sir, the truth is, we seamen don’t want passengers aboard ships of this class; they get in our way whenever it blows a capful. However, since you are here, make yourself as comfortable as you can.”

“There, that is enough palaver,” said the captain, in his offensive way. “Hoist the parson’s traps aboard; and sheer off you. Anchor’s apeak.”

He then gave his orders in stentorian roars; the anchor was hove up, catted and fished; one sail went up after another, the Proserpine’s head came round, and away she bore for England with a fair wind.

 

General Rolleston went slowly and heavily home, and often turned his head and looked wistfully at the ship putting out wing upon wing and carrying off his child like a tiny prey.

To change the comparison, it was only a tender vine detached from a great sturdy elm. Yet the tree, thus relieved of its delicate encumbrance, felt bare; and a soft thing was gone, that, seeking protection, had bestowed warmth; had nestled and curled between the world’s cold wind and that stalwart stem.

As soon as he got home he lighted a cigar and set to work to console himself by reflecting that it was but a temporary parting, since he had virtually resigned his post and was only waiting in Sydney till he should have handed his papers in order over to his successor and settled one or two private matters that could not take three months.

When he had smoked his cigar and reasoned away his sense of desolation, Nature put out her hand and took him by the breast and drew him gently upstairs to take a look at his beloved daughter’s bedroom, by way of seeing the last of her.

The room had one window looking south and another west; the latter commanded a view of the sea. General Rolleston looked down at the floor, littered with odds and ends—the dead leaves of dress that fall about a lady in the great process of packing—and then gazed through the window at the flying Proserpine.

He sighed and lighted another cigar. Before he had half finished it he stooped down and took up a little bow of ribbon that lay on the ground and put it quietly in his bosom. In this act he was surprised by Sarah Wilson, who had come up to sweep all such waifs and strays into her own box.

“La, sir,” said she, rather crossly, “why didn’t you tell me, and I’d have tidied the room. It is all hugger-mugger, with miss a-leaving.”

And with this she went to the washstand to begin. General Rolleston’s eye followed her movements, and he observed the water in one of the basins was rather red. “What!” said he, “has she had an accident; cut her finger?”

“No, sir,” said Wilson.

“Her nose been bleeding, then?”

“No, sir.

“Not from her finger—nor—? Let me look.”

He examined the basin narrowly, and his countenance fell.

“Good Heavens!” said he. “I wish I had seen this before; she should not have gone to-day. Was it the agitation of parting?”

“Oh, no, sir,” said Wilson; “don’t go to fancy that. Why, it is not the first time by a many.”

“Not the first!” faltered Rolleston. “In Heaven’s name, why was I never told of this?”

“Indeed, sir,” said Wilson, eagerly, “you must not blame me, sir. It was as much as my place was worth to tell you. Miss is a young lady that will be obeyed; and she gave me strict orders not to let you know. But she is gone now. And I always thought it was a pity she kept it so dark; but, as I was saying, sir, she would be obeyed.”

“Kept what so dark?”

“Why, sir, her spitting of blood at times; and turning so thin by what she used to be, poor dear young lady.”

General Rolleston groaned aloud. “And this she hid from me; from me!” He said no more, but kept looking bewildered and helpless, first at the basin discolored by his daughter’s blood, and then at the Proserpine, that was carrying her away, perhaps forever; and, at the double sight, his iron features worked with cruel distress; anguish so mute and male that the woman Wilson, though not good for much, sat down and shed genuine tears of pity.

But he summoned all his fortitude, told Wilson he could not say she was to blame, she had but obeyed her mistress’s orders; and we must all obey orders. “But now,” said he, “it is me you ought to obey. Tell me, does any doctor attend her?”

“None ever comes here, sir. But, one day, she let fall that she went to Dr. Valentine, him that has the name for disorders of the chest.”

In a very few minutes General Rolleston was at Dr. Valentine’s house, and asked him bluntly what was the matter with his daughter.

“Disease of the lungs,” said the doctor simply.

The unhappy father then begged the doctor to give him his real opinion as to the degree of danger; and Dr. Valentine told him, with some feeling, that the case was not desperate, but was certainly alarming.

Remonstrated with for letting the girl undertake a sea voyage, he replied rather evasively at first; that the air of Sydney disagreed with his patient, and a sea voyage was more likely to do her good than harm, provided the weather was not downright tempestuous.

“And who is to insure me against that?’ asked the afflicted father.

“Why, it is a good time of year,” said Dr. Valentine; “and delay might have been fatal.” Then, after a slight hesitation, “The fact is, sir,” said he, “I gathered from her servant that a husband awaits Miss Rolleston in England; and I must tell you, what of course I did not tell her, that the sooner she enters the married state the better. In fact, it is her one chance, in my opinion.”

General Rolleston pressed the doctor’s hand, and went away without another word.

Only he hurried his matters of business; and took his passage in the Shannon.

It was in something of a warrior’s spirit that he prepared to follow his daughter and protect her; but often he sighed at the invisible, insidious nature of the foe, and wished it could have been a fair fight of bullets and bayonets, and his own the life at stake.

The Shannon was soon ready for sea.

But the gentleman who was to take General Rolleston’s post met with something better, and declined it.

General Rolleston, though chafing with impatience, had to give up going home in the Shannon. But an influential friend, Mr. Adolphus Savage, was informed of his difficulty, and obtained a year’s leave of absence for him, and permission to put young Savage in as his locum tenens; which, by the by, is how politic men in general serve their friends.

The Shannon sailed, but not until an incident had occurred that must not be entirely passed over. Old Mr. White called on General Rolleston with a long face, and told him James Seaton had disappeared.

“Stolen anything?”

“Not a shilling. Indeed, the last thing the poor fellow did was to give us a proof of his honesty. It seems a passenger paid him twenty-seven pounds for a berth in the Proserpine, just before she sailed. Well, sir, he might have put this in his pocket, and nobody been the wiser. But no, he entered the transaction, and the numbers of the notes, and left the notes themselves in an envelope addressed to me. What I am most afraid of is, that some harm has come to him, poor lad.”

“What day did he disappear?”

“The 11th of November.”

“The day my daughter sailed for England,” said General Rolleston, thoughtfully.

“Was it, sir? Yes, I remember. She went in the Proserpine.”

General Rolleston knitted his brows in silence for some time; then he said, “I’ll set the detectives on his track.”

“Not to punish him, general. We do not