Snarleyyow by Captain Frederick MarryatOr, the Dog Fiend (page 6)

“Mein Gott, Mynheer Vanslyperken! suppose it vas possible, I not take your money, I do it wid pleasure; but, sir, it not possible.”

“Not possible!” exclaimed Vanslyperken.

“No, mynheer,” replied the corporal, “I not tell you all, tousand tyfel, I not tell you all;” and here the corporal put his hand to his forehead and was silent, much to Vanslyperken’s amazement. But the fact was, that Corporal Van Spitter was thinking what he possibly could say. At last, a brilliant thought struck him–he narrated to the lieutenant how he had seen the ghost of Smallbones, as he thought, when he was floating about, adrift on the Zuyder Zee–described with great force his horror at the time of the appearance of the supernatural object, and tailed on to what he believed to be true, that which he knew to be false, to wit, that the apparition had cried out to him, that “_he was not to be hurt by mortal man_.” “Gott in Himmel,” finished the corporal, “I never was so frightened in my life. I see him now, as plain as I see you, mynheer. Twenty tousand tyfels, but the voice was like de tunder–and his eye like de lightning–I fell back in one swoon. Ah, mein Gott, mein Gott!”

So well did the corporal play his part, that Vanslyperken became quite terrified; the candle appeared to burn dim, and he dared not move to snuff it. He could not but credit the corporal, for there was an earnestness of description, and a vividness of colouring, which could not have been invented; besides, was not the corporal his earnest and only friend? “Corporal,” said Vanslyperken, “perhaps you’ll like a glass of scheedam; there’s some in the cupboard.”

This was very kind of Mr Vanslyperken, but he wanted one himself, much more than the corporal. The corporal produced the bottle and the glass, poured it out, made his military salute, and tossed it off.

“Give me another glass, corporal,” said Vanslyperken, in a tremulous tone. The lieutenant took one, two, three glasses, one after another, to recover himself.

The corporal had really frightened him. He was convinced that Smallbones had a charmed life. Did he not float to the Nab buoy and back again?–did not a pistol ball pass through him without injury? Vanslyperken shuddered; he took a fresh glass, and then handed the bottle to the corporal, who helped himself, saluted, and the liquor again disappeared in a moment.

Dutch courage is proverbial, although a libel upon one of the bravest of nations. Vanslyperken now felt it, and again he commenced with the corporal. “What were the words?” inquired he.

“Dat he was not to be hurt by mortal man, mynheer. I can take mine piple oath of it,” replied the corporal.

“Damnation!” cried Vanslyperken; “but stop–mortal man–perhaps he may be hurt by woman.”

“Dat is quite anoder ting, mynheer.”

“He shan’t escape if I can help it,” retorted Vanslyperken. “I must think about it.” Vanslyperken poured out another glass of scheedam, and pushed the stone bottle to the corporal, who helped himself without ceremony. Mr Vanslyperken was now about two-thirds drunk, for he was not used to such a quantity of spirits.

“Now, if I had only been friends with that–that–hell-fire Moggy Salisbury,” thought Vanslyperken, speaking aloud to himself.

“Mein Gott, yes, mynheer,” replied the corporal.

Vanslyperken took another glass–spilling a great deal on the table as he poured it out; he then covered his eyes with his hand, as if in thought. Thereupon the corporal filled without being asked, and, as he perceived that his superior remained in the same position, and did not observe him, he helped himself to a second glass, and then waited till Vanslyperken should speak again; but the liquor had overpowered him, and he spoke no more.

The corporal, after a few minutes, went up to his superior; he touched him on the shoulder, saying, “Mynheer,” but he obtained no reply. On the contrary, the slight touch made Mr Vanslyperken fall forward on the table. He was quite insensible.

So the corporal took him up in his arms, laid him in his bed, then taking possession of the lieutenant’s chair, for he was tired of standing so long, he set to work to empty the bottle, which, being large and full at the time that it was produced from the cupboard, took some time, and before it was accomplished, the Corporal Van Spitter had fallen fast asleep in the chair. Shortly afterwards the candle burnt out, and the cabin was in darkness.

It was about three o’clock in the morning when Mr Vanslyperken began to recover his senses, and as his recollection returned, so were his ears met with a stupendous roaring and unusual noise. It was, to his imagination, unearthly, for he had been troubled with wild dreams about Smallbones, and his appearance to the corporal. It sounded like thunder, and Mr Vanslyperken thought that he could plainly make out, “_Mortal man! mortal man!_” and, at times, the other words of the supernatural intimation to the corporal. The mortal man was drawn out in lengthened cadence, and in a manner truly horrible. Vanslyperken called out, “Mor–tal–man,” was the reply.

Again Vanslyperken almost shrieked in a perspiration of fear. The sound now ceased; but it was followed up by a noise like the rattling of glasses, tumbling about of the chairs and table, and Vanslyperken buried his face under the clothes. Then the door, which had been shut, was heard by him to slam like thunder; and then Snarleyyow barked loud and deep. “Oh! God forgive me!” cried the terrified lieutenant. “Our Father–which art in heaven–save me–save me!”

Shortly afterwards the corporal made his appearance with a light, and inquired if Mr Vanslyperken had called. He found him reeking with perspiration, and half dead with fear. In broken words he stated how he had been visited, and how the same intimation that no mortal man could hurt Smallbones had been rung into his ears.

“It was only one dream, Mynheer Vanslyperken,” observed the corporal.

“No–it was no dream,” replied Vanslyperken. “Stay in the cabin, good corporal.”

“Yes, mynheer,” replied the corporal, drawing the curtains of the bed; and then quietly picking up the various articles on the floor, the table and chairs which had been overturned.

Alas! Fear is the mate of guilt. All this horrid visitation was simply that Mr Vanslyperken had heard the corporal’s tremendous snoring, as he slept in the chair, and which his imagination had turned into the words, “Mortal man.” The first exclamation of Mr Vanslyperken had awoke the corporal, who, aware of the impropriety of his situation, had attempted to retreat; in so doing he had overturned the table and chairs, with the bottles and glasses upon them.

Fearful of discovery upon this unexpected noise, he had hastened out of the cabin, slammed the door, and waked up Snarleyyow; but he knew, from the exclamations of Vanslyperken, that the lieutenant was frightened out of his wits; so he very boldly returned with a candle to ascertain the result of the disturbance, and was delighted to find that the lieutenant was still under the delusion.

So soon as he had replaced everything, the corporal took a chair, and finding that he had fortunately put the cork into the stone bottle before he fell asleep, and that there was still one or two glasses in it, he drank them off, and waited patiently for daylight. By this time Vanslyperken was again asleep and snoring; so the corporal took away all the broken fragments, put the things in order, and left the cabin.

When Vanslyperken awoke and rang his bell, Smallbones entered. Vanslyperken got up, and finding the cabin as it was left the night before, was more than ever persuaded that he had been supernaturally visited. Fear made him quite civil to the lad, whose life he now considered, as the ship’s company did that of the dog’s, it was quite useless for him, at least, to attempt, and thus ends this chapter of horrors.

Chapter XXXIII

In which there is nothing very particular or very interesting.

We must now change the scene for a short time, and introduce to our readers a company assembled in the best inn which, at that time, was to be found in the town of Cherbourg. The room in which they were assembled was large in dimensions, but with a low ceiling–the windows were diminutive, and gave but a subdued light, on account of the vicinity of the houses opposite. The window-frames were small, and cut diamond-wise; and, in the centre of each of the panes, was a round of coarsely-painted glass. A narrow table ran nearly the length of the room, and, at each end of it, there was a large chimney, in both of which logs of wood were burning cheerfully. What are now termed _chaises longues_, were drawn to the sides of the table, or leaning against the walls of the room, which were without ornament, and neatly coloured with yellow ochre.

The company assembled might have been about thirty in number, of which half a dozen, perhaps, were in the ecclesiastical dress of the time; while the others wore the habiliments then appropriated to cavaliers or gentlemen, with very little difference from those as worn in the times of the Charleses in England, except that the cloak had been discarded, and the more substantial roquelaure substituted in its place. Most of the party were men who had not yet arrived to middle age, if we except the clericals, who were much more advanced in life; and any one, who had ever fallen in with the smuggling lugger and its crew, would have had no difficulty in recognising many of them, in the well-attired and evidently high-born and well-educated young men, who were seated or standing in the room. Among them Sir Robert Barclay was eminently conspicuous; he was standing by the fire conversing with two of the ecclesiastics.

“Gentlemen,” said he at last, “our worthy Father Lovell has just arrived from St Germains; and, as the most rapid communication is now necessary, he is empowered to open here and before us, every despatch which we bring over, before it is transmitted to head-quarters, with permission to act as may seem best to the friends of his Majesty here assembled.”

The fact was, that King James had lately completely given himself up to religious exercises and mortification, and any communication to him was attended with so much delay, that it had been considered advisable to act without consulting him; and to avoid the delay consequent on the transmission of communications to Paris, the most active parties had determined that they would, for the present, take up their residence at Cherbourg, and merely transmit to their friends at St Germains, an account of their proceedings, gaining, at least, a week by this arrangement. The party assembled had many names of some note. Among the ecclesiastics were Lovell, Collier, Snatt, and Cooke; among the cavaliers were those of Musgrave, Friend, and Perkins, whose relatives had suffered in the cause; Smith, Clancey, Herbert, Cunningham, Leslie, and many others.

When Sir Robert Barclay approached the table, the others took their seats in silence.

“Gentlemen,” said Sir Robert, laying down the despatches, which had been opened, “you must be aware that our affairs now wear a very prosperous appearance. Supported as we are by many in the government of England, and by more in the House of Commons, with so many adherents here to our cause, we have every rational prospect of success. During the first three months of this year, much has been done; and, at the same time, it must be confessed that the usurper and the heretics have taken every step in their power to assail and to crush us. By this despatch, now in my hand, it appears that a Bill has passed the Commons, by which it is enacted, ‘that no person born after the 25th March next, being a Papist, shall be capable of inheriting any title of honour or estate, within the kingdom of England, dominion of Wales, or town of Berwick-on-the-Tweed.'”

Here, some of the ecclesiastics lifted up their eyes, others struck their clenched hands on the table, and the cavaliers, as if simultaneously, made the room ring, by seizing hold of the handles of their swords.

“And further, gentlemen, ‘that no Papist shall be capable of purchasing any lands, tenements, or hereditaments, either in his own name, or in the name of any other person in trust for him.'”

The reader must be reminded, that in those days, there was no _Times_ or _Morning Herald_ laid upon the breakfast table with the debates of the House–that communication was anything but rapid, there being no regular post–so that what had taken place two months back, was very often news.

“It appears then, gentlemen, that our only chance is to win our properties with our own good swords.”

“We will!” was the unanimous reply of the laity present.

“In Scotland, our adherents increase daily; the interests of so many have been betrayed by the usurper, that thousands of swords will start from their scabbards so soon as we can support the cause with the promised assistance of the court of Versailles: and we have here intelligence that the parliament are in a state of actual hostility to the usurper, and that the national ferment is so great as to be almost on the verge of rebellion. I have also gained from a private communication from our friend Ramsay, who is now at Amsterdam, and in a position to be most useful to us, that the usurper has intimated to his own countrymen, although it is not yet known in England, that he will return to the Hague in July. Such, gentlemen, is the intelligence I have to impart as respects our own prospects in our own country–to which I have to add, that the secret partition treaty, which is inimical to the interests of the French king, has been signed both in London and the Hague, as well as by the French envoy there. A more favourable occurrence for us, perhaps, never occurred, as it will only increase the already well-known ill-will of his Catholic Majesty against the usurper of his own father-in-law’s crown. I have now, gentlemen, laid before you our present position and future prospects; and, as we are met to consult upon the propriety of further measures, I shall be most happy to hear the suggestions of others.”

Sir Robert Barclay then sat down.

Lovell, the Jesuit, first rose. “I have,” said he, “no opinion to offer relative to warlike arrangements, those not being suitable to my profession. I leave them to men like Sir Robert, whose swords are always ready, and whose talents are so well able to direct their swords; still, it is well known, that the sources of war must be obtained, if war is to be carried on; and I have great pleasure in announcing to those assembled, that from our friends in England, I have received advice of the two several sums of ninety-three thousand pounds and twenty-nine thousand pounds, sterling money, having been actually collected, and now held in trust for the support of the good cause; and, further, that the collections are still going on with rapidity and success. From his most Catholic Majesty we have received an order upon the minister for the sum of four thousand louis, which has been duly honoured, and from our blessed father, the Pope, an order for five hundred thousand paolis, amounting to about thirteen thousand pounds in sterling money, together with entire absolution for all sins already committed, and about to be committed, and a secure promise of paradise to those who fall in the maintenance of the true faith and the legitimate king. I have, further, great expectations from Ireland, and many promises from other quarters, in support of the cause which, with the blessing of God, I trust will yet triumph,”

As soon as Lovell sat down, Collier, the ecclesiastic, rose.

“That we shall find plenty of willing swords, and a sufficient supply of money for our purposes, there can be no doubt; but I wish to propose one question to the company here assembled. It is an undoubted article of the true faith, that we are bound to uphold it by any and by every means. All human attempts are justifiable in the service of God. Many have already been made to get rid of the usurper, but they have not been crowned with success, as we too well know; and the blood of our friends, many of whom were not accessories to the act, has been lavishly spilt by the insatiate heretic.

“But they have, before this, received immortal crowns, in suffering as martyrs in the cause of religion and justice. I still hold that our attempts to cut off the usurper should be continued; some hand more fortunate may succeed. But not only is his life to be taken, if possible, but the succession must be cut off root and branch. You all know that, of the many children born to the heretic William, all but one have been taken away from him in judgment for his manifold crimes. One only remains, the present Duke of Gloucester, and I do consider that this branch of heresy should be removed, even in preference to his parent, whose conduct is such as to assist our cause, and whose death may weaken the animosity of his Catholic Majesty, whose hostility is well known to be personal. I have neither men nor money to offer to you, but I have means, I trust, soon to accomplish this point, and I dedicate my useless life to the attempt.”

It would occupy too much of our pages, if we were to narrate all that was said and done at this conference, which we have been obliged to report, as intimately connected with our history. Many others addressed the meeting, proposals were made, rejected, and acceded to. Lists of adherents were produced, and of those who might be gained over. Resolutions were entered into and recorded, and questions debated. Before the breaking up, the accounts of the sums expended, and the monies still on hand, were brought forward; and in the former items, the name of Vanslyperken appeared rather prominent. As soon as the accounts were audited, the conference broke up.

We have said that, among those who were at the conference, might be observed some persons who might be recognised as part of the crew of the lugger. Such was the case; Sir Robert Barclay and many others were men of good family, and stout Jacobites. These young men served in the boat with the other men, who were no more than common seamen; but this was considered necessary in those times of treachery. The lugger pulled eighteen oars, was clinker built, and very swift, even with a full cargo. The after-oars were pulled by the adherents of Sir Robert, and the arm-chest was stowed in the stern-sheets: so that these young men being always armed, no attempt to betray them, or to rise against them, on the part of the smugglers, had they been so inclined, could have succeeded. Ramsay’s trust as steersman had been appropriated to Jemmy Salisbury, but no other alteration had taken place. We have entered into this detail to prove the activity of the Jacobite party. About an hour after the conference, Sir Robert and his cavaliers had resumed their seamen’s attire, for they were to go over that night; and two hours before dusk, those who had been at a conference, in which the fate of kingdoms and crowned heads was at stake, were to be seen labouring at the oar, in company with common seamen, and urging the fast boat through the yielding waters, towards her haven at the cove.

Chapter XXXIV

Besides other Matter, containing an Argument.

We left Ramsay domiciliated in the house of the syndic Van Krause, on excellent terms with his host, who looked upon him as the mirror of information, and not a little in the good graces of the syndic’s daughter, Wilhelmina. There could not be a more favourable opportunity, perhaps, for a handsome and well-informed young man to prosecute his addresses and to gain the affections of the latter, were he so inclined. Wilhelmina had been brought up in every luxury, but isolated from the world. She was now just at the age at which it was her father’s intention to introduce her; but romantic in her disposition, she cared little for the formal introduction which it was intended should take place. Neither had she seen, in any of the young Dutch aristocracy, most of whom were well known to her by sight, as pointed out to her by her father when riding with him, that form and personal appearance which her mind’s eye had embodied in her visions of her future lover. Her mind was naturally refined, and she looked for that elegance and grace of deportment which she sought for in vain among her countrymen, but which had suddenly been presented to her in the person of Edward Ramsay.

In the few meetings of her father’s friends at their house, the conversation was uninteresting, if not disgusting; for it was about goods and merchandise, money and speculation, occasionally interrupted by politics, which were to her of as little interest. How different was the demeanour, the address, and the conversation of the young Englishman, who had been bred in courts, and, at the same time, had travelled much! There was an interest in all he said, so much information blended with novelty and amusement, so much wit and pleasantry crowning all, that Wilhelmina was fascinated without her being aware of it; and, before the terms of intimacy had warranted her receiving his hand on meeting, she had already unconsciously given her heart. The opportunities arising from her father’s close attention to his commercial affairs, and the mutual attraction which brought them together during the major part of the day, she, anxious to be amused, and he attracted by her youth and beauty, were taken advantage of by them both, and the consequence was that, before ten days, they were inseparable.

The syndic either did not perceive the danger to which his child was exposed, provided that there was any objection to the intimacy, or else, equally pleased with Ramsay, he had no objection to matters taking their course.

As for Ramsay, that he had at first cultivated the intimacy with Wilhelmina more perhaps from distraction than with any definite purpose, is certain; but he soon found that her attractions were too great to permit him to continue it, if he had not serious intentions. When he had entered his own room, before he had been a week in the house, he had taxed himself severely as to the nature of his feelings, and he was then convinced that he must avoid her company, which was impossible if he remained in the house, or, as a man of honour, make a timely retreat; for Ramsay was too honourable to trifle with the feelings of an innocent girl. Having well weighed this point, he then calculated the probability of his being discovered, and the propriety of his continuing his attentions to the daughter of one whom he was deceiving, and whose political opinions were at such variance with his own–but this was a point on which he could come to no decision. His duty to the cause he supported would not allow him to quit the house–to remain in the house without falling in love was impossible.

Why should his political opinions ever be known? and why should not Wilhelmina be of the same opinion as he was?–and why–Ramsay fell asleep, putting these questions to himself, and the next morning he resolved that things should take their chance.

It was about a fortnight since the cutter had left for England. Ramsay was rather impatient for intelligence, but the cutter had not yet returned. Breakfast had been over some time, Mynheer Van Krause had descended to his warehouses, and Ramsay and Wilhelmina were sitting together upon one of the sofas in the saloon, both reclining and free from that restraint of which nothing but extreme intimacy will divest you.

“And so, my Wilhelmina,” said Ramsay, taking up her hand, which lay listless at her side, and playing with her taper fingers, “you really think William of Nassau is a good man.”

“And do not you, Ramsay?” replied Wilhelmina, surprised.

“However I may rejoice at his being on the throne of England, I doubt whether I can justify his conduct to the unfortunate King James; in leaguing against his own father-in-law and dispossessing him of his kingdom. Suppose now, Wilhelmina, that any fortunate man should become one day your husband: what a cruel–what a diabolical conduct it would be on his part–at least, so it appears to me–if, in return for your father putting him in possession of perhaps his greatest treasure on earth, he were to seize upon all your father’s property, and leave him a beggar, because other people were to invite him so to do.”

“I never heard it placed in that light before, Ramsay; that the alliance between King William and his father-in-law should have made him very scrupulous, I grant, but when the happiness of a nation depended upon it, ought not a person in William’s situation to waive all minor considerations?”

“The happiness of a nation, Wilhelmina? In what way would you prove that so much was at stake?”

“Was not the Protestant religion at stake? Is not King James a bigoted Catholic?”

“I grant that, and therefore ought not to reign over a Protestant nation; but if you imagine that the happiness of any nation depends upon his religion, I am afraid you are deceived. Religion has been made the excuse for interfering with the happiness of a nation whenever no better excuse could be brought forward; but depend upon it, the mass of the people will never quarrel about religion if they are left alone, and their interests not interfered with. Had King James not committed himself in other points, he might have worshipped his Creator in any form he thought proper. That a Protestant king was all that was necessary to quiet the nation, is fully disproved by the present state of the country, now that the sceptre has been, for some years, swayed by King William, it being, at this moment, in a state very nearly approaching to rebellion.”

“But is not that occasioned by the machinations of the Jacobite party, who are promoting dissension in every quarter?” replied Wilhelmina.

“I grant that they are not idle,” replied Ramsay; “but observe the state of bitter variance between William and the House of Commons, which represents the people of England. What can religion have to do with that? No, Wilhelmina; although, in this country there are few who do not rejoice at their king being called to the throne of England, there are many, and those the most wise, in that country, who lament it quite as much.”

“But why so?”

“Because mankind are governed by interest, and patriotism is little more than a cloak. The benefits to this country, by the alliance with England, are very great, especially in a commercial point of view, and therefore you will find no want of patriots; but to England the case is different; it is not her interest to be involved and mixed up in continental wars and dissensions, which must now inevitably be the case. Depend upon it, that posterity will find that England will have paid very dear for a Protestant king; religion is what everyone is willing to admit the propriety and necessity of, until they are taxed to pay for it, and then it is astonishing how very indifferent, if not disgusted, they become to it.”

“Why, Ramsay, one would never imagine you to be such a warm partisan of the present government, as I believe you really are, to hear you talk this morning,” replied Wilhelmina.

“My public conduct, as belonging to a party, does not prevent my having my private opinions. To my party, I am, and ever will be steadfast; but knowing the world, and the secret springs of most people’s actions, as I do, you must not be surprised at my being so candid with you, Wilhelmina. Our conversation, I believe, commenced upon the character of King William; and I will confess to you, that estimating the two characters in moral worth, I would infinitely prefer being the exiled and Catholic James than the unnatural and crowned King William?”

“You will say next, that you would just as soon be a Catholic as a Protestant.”

“And if I had been brought up in the tenets of the one instead of the other, what difference would it have made, except that I should have adhered to the creed of my forefathers, and have worshipped the Almighty after their fashion, form, and ceremonies? And are not all religions good if they be sincere?–do not they all tend to the same object, and have the same goal in view–that of gaining heaven? Would you not prefer a good, honest, conscientious man, were he a Catholic, to a mean, intriguing, and unworthy person, who professed himself a Protestant?”

“Most certainly; but I should prefer to the just Catholic, a man who was a just Protestant.”

“That is but natural; but recollect, Wilhelmina, you have seen and heard, as yet, but one side of the question; and if I speak freely to you, it is only to give you the advantage of my experience from having mixed with the world. I am true to my party, and, as a man, I must belong to a party, or I become a nonentity. But were I in a condition so unshackled that I might take up or lay down my opinions as I pleased, without loss of character–as a woman may, for instance–so little do I care for party–so well balanced do I know the right and the wrong to be on both sides–that I would, to please one I loved, at once yield up my opinions, to agree with her, if she would not yield up hers to agree with mine.”

“Then you think a woman might do so? that is no compliment to the sex, Ramsay; for it is as much as to assert that we have not only no weight or influence in the world, but also that we have no character or stability.”

“Far from it; I only mean to say that women do not generally enter sufficiently into politics to care much for them; they generally imbibe the politics of those they live with, without further examination, and that it is no disgrace to them if they change them. Besides, there is one feeling in women so powerful as to conquer all others, and when once that enters the breast, the remainder are absorbed or become obedient to it.”

“And that feeling is”

“Love, Wilhelmina; and if a woman happens to have been brought up in one way of thinking by her parents, when she transfers her affections to her husband, should his politics be adverse, she will soon come round to his opinion, if she really loves him.”

“I am not quite so sure of that, Ramsay.”

“I am quite sure she ought. Politics and party are ever a subject of dispute, and therefore should be avoided by a wife; besides, if a woman selects one as her husband, her guide and counsellor through life, one whom she swears to love, honour, cherish, and obey, she gives but a poor proof of it, if she does not yield up her judgment in all matters more peculiarly his province.”

“You really put things in such a new light, Ramsay, that I hardly know how to answer you, even when I am not convinced.”

“Because you have not had sufficient time for reflection, Wilhelmina; but weigh well, and dwell upon what I have said, and then you will either acknowledge that I am right, or find arguments to prove that I am wrong. But you promised me some singing. Let me lead you into the music-room.”

We have introduced this conversation between Wilhelmina and Ramsay, to show not only what influence he had already gained over the artless, yet intelligent girl, but also the way by which he considerately prepared her for the acknowledgment which he resolved to make to her on some future opportunity; for, although Ramsay cared little for deceiving the father, he would not have married the daughter without her being fully aware of who he was. These conversations were constantly renewed, as if accidentally, by Ramsay; and long before he had talked in direct terms of love, he had fully prepared her for it, so that he felt she would not receive a very severe shock when he threw off the mask, even when she discovered that he was a Catholic, and opposed to her father in religion as well as in politics. The fact was, that Ramsay, at first, was as much attracted by her wealth as by her personal charms; but, like many other men, as his love increased, so did he gradually become indifferent to her wealth, and he was determined to win her for his wife in spite of all obstacles, and even if he were obliged, to secure her hand, by carrying her off without the paternal consent.

Had it been requisite, it is not certain whether Ramsay might not have been persuaded to have abandoned his party, so infatuated had he at last become with the really fascinating Wilhelmina.

But Ramsay was interrupted in the middle of one of his most favourite songs by old Koops, who informed him that the lieutenant of the cutter was waiting for him in his room. Apologising for the necessary absence, Ramsay quitted the music-room, and hastened to meet Vanslyperken.

Mr Vanslyperken had received his orders to return to the Hague a few days after the fright he had received from the nasal organ of the corporal. In pursuance of his instructions from Ramsay, he had not failed to open all the government despatches, and extract their contents. He had also brought over letters from Ramsay’s adherents.

“You are sure these extracts are quite correct?” said Ramsay, after he had read them over.

“Quite so, sir,” replied Vanslyperken.

“And you have been careful to seal the letters again, so as to avoid suspicion?”

“Does not my life depend upon it, Mr Ramsay?”

“Very true, and also upon your fidelity to us. Here’s your money. Let me know when you sail, and come for orders.”

Vanslyperken then took his bag of money, made his bow, and departed, and Ramsay commenced reading over the letters received from his friends. Mynheer Van Krause observed Vanslyperken as he was leaving the house, and immediately hastened to Ramsay’s room to inquire the news. A portion of the contents of the despatches were made known to him, and the syndic was very soon afterwards seen to walk out, leaving his people to mark and tally the bales which were hoisting out from a vessel in the canal. The fact was, that Mynheer Van Krause was so anxious to get rid of his secret, that he could not contain himself any longer, and had set off to communicate to one of the authorities what he had obtained.

“But from whence did you receive this intelligence, Mynheer Krause,” demanded the other. “The despatches have not yet been opened; we are waiting for Mynheer Van Wejen. I suppose we shall learn something there. You knew all before we did, when the cutter arrived last time. You must have some important friends at the English court, Mynheer Van Krause.”

Here Mynheer Krause nodded his head, and looked very knowing, and shortly afterwards took his leave.

But this particular friend of Mynheer Krause was also his particular enemy. Krause had lately imparted secrets which were supposed to be known and entrusted to none but those in the entire confidence of the government. How could he have obtained them unless by the treachery of some one at home; and why should Mynheer Krause, who was not trusted by the government there, notwithstanding his high civil office, because he was known to be unsafe, be trusted by some one at home, unless it were for treacherous purposes? So argued Mr Krause’s most particular friend, who thought it proper to make known his opinions on the subject, and to submit to the other authorities whether this was not a fair subject for representation in their next despatches to England; and in consequence of his suggestion, the representation was duly made. Mynheer Krause was not the first person whose tongue had got him into difficulties.

So soon as Vanslyperken had delivered his despatches to Ramsay, he proceeded to the widow Vandersloosh, when, as usual, he was received with every apparent mark of cordial welcome, was again installed on the little sofa, and again drank the beer of the widow’s own brewing, and was permitted to take her fat hand. Babette inquired after the corporal, and, when rallied by the lieutenant, appeared to blush, and turned her head away. The widow also assisted in the play, and declared that it should be a match, and that Babette and herself should be married on the same day. As the evening drew nigh, Vanslyperken took his leave, and went on board, giving permission to the corporal to go on shore, and very soon the corporal was installed in his place.

This is a sad world of treachery and deceit.

Chapter XXXV

In which the agency of a red-herring is again introduced into our wonderful history.

We are somewhat inclined to moralise. We did not intend to write this day. On the contrary, we had arranged for a party of pleasure and relaxation, in which the heels, and every other portion of the body upwards, except the brain, were to be employed, and that was to have a respite. The morning was fair, and we promised ourselves amusement, but we were deceived, and we returned to our task, as the rain poured down in torrents, washing the dirty face of mother earth. Yes, deceived; and here we cannot help observing, that this history of ours is a very true picture of human life–for what a complication of treachery does it not involve!

Smallbones is deceiving his master, Mr Vanslyperken–the corporal is deceiving Mr Vanslyperken–the widow is deceiving Mr Vanslyperken, so is Babette, and the whole crew of the _Yungfrau_. Ramsay is deceiving his host and his mistress. All the Jacobites, in a mass, are plotting against and deceiving the government, and as for Mr Vanslyperken; as it will soon appear, he is deceiving everybody, and will ultimately deceive himself. The only honest party in the whole history is the one most hated, as generally is the case in this world–I mean Snarleyyow. There is no deceit about him, and therefore, _par excellence_, he is fairly entitled to be the hero of, and to give his name to, the work. The next most honest party in the book is Wilhelmina; all the other women, except little Lilly, are cheats and impostors–and Lilly is too young; our readers may, therefore, be pleased to consider Snarleyyow and Wilhelmina as the hero and the heroine of the tale, and then it will leave one curious feature in it, the principals will not only not be united, but the tale will wind up without their ever seeing each other. _Allons en avant_.

But of all the treachery practised by all the parties, it certainly appears to us that the treachery of the widow was the most odious and diabolical. She was like a bloated spider, slowly entwining those threads for her victim which were to entrap him to his destruction, for she had vowed that she never would again be led to the hymeneal altar until Mr Vanslyperken was hanged. Perhaps, the widow Vandersloosh was in a hurry to be married, at least, by her activity, it would so appear–but let us not anticipate.

The little sofa was fortunately like its build, strong as a cob, or it never could have borne the weight of two such lovers as the widow Vandersloosh and the Corporal Van Spitter; there they sat, she radiant with love and beer, he with ditto; their sides met, for the sofa exactly took them both in, without an inch to spare; their hands met, their eyes met, and whenever one raised the glass, the other was on the alert, and their glasses met and jingled–a more practical specimen of hob and nob was never witnessed. There was but one thing wanting to complete their happiness, which, unlike other people’s, did not hang upon a thread, but something much stronger, it hung upon a cord; the cord which was to hang Mr Vanslyperken.

And now the widow, like the three fates rolled into one, is weaving the woof, and, in good Dutch, is pouring into the attentive ear of the corporal her hopes and fears, her surmises, her wishes, her anticipations, and her desires–and he imbibes them all greedily, washing them down with the beer of the widow’s own brewing.

“He has not been to the house opposite these two last arrivals,” said the widow, “that is certain; for Babette and I have been on the watch. There was hanging matter there. Now I won’t believe but that he must go somewhere; he carries his letters, and takes his gold as before, depend upon it. Yes, and I will find it out. Yes, yes, Mr Vanslyperken, we will see who is the ‘cutest–you, or the widow Vandersloosh.”

“Mein Gott, yes!” replied the corporal.

“Now he landed a passenger last time, which he called a king’s messenger, and I am as sure as I sit here that he was no king’s messenger, unless he was one of King James’s as was; for look you, Corporal Van Spitter, do you suppose that King William would employ an Englishman, as you say he was, for a messenger, when a Dutchman was to be had for love or money?”

“No, no, we must find out where he goes to. I will have some one on the look out when you come again, and then set Babette on the watch; she shall track him up to the den of his treachery. Yes, yes, Mr Vanslyperken, we will see who gains the day, you or the widow Vandersloosh.”

“Mein Gott! yes,” replied the corporal.

“And now, corporal, I’ve been thinking over all this ever since your absence, and all you have told me about his cowardly attempts upon that poor boy’s life, and his still greater cowardice in believing such stuff as you have made him believe about the lad not being injured by mortal man. Stuff and nonsense! the lad is but a lad.”

“Mein Gott! yes,” said the corporal.

“And now, corporal, I’ll tell you something else, which is, that you and the _Yungfraus_ are just as great fools as Mynheer Vanslyperken, in believing all that stuff and nonsense about the dog. The dog is but a dog.”

This was rather a trial to the corporal’s politeness; to deny what the widow said, might displease, and, as he firmly believed otherwise, he was put to a nonplus; but the widow looked him full in the face, expecting assent, so at last the corporal drawled out, “Mein Gott! yes a tog is but a tog.”

The widow was satisfied, and not perceiving the nice distinction, continued.

“Well, then, corporal, as a lad is but a lad, and a dog is but a dog, I have been setting my wits to work about getting the rascally traitor in my power. I mean to pretend to take every interest in him, and to get all his secrets, and then, when he tells me that Smallbones cannot be hurt by mortal man, I shall say he can by woman, at all events; and then I shall make a proposition, which he’ll accept fast enough, and then I’ll have more hanging matter for him, besides getting rid of the cur. Yes, yes, Mr Vanslyperken, match a woman if you can. We’ll see if your dog is to take possession of my bedroom again.”

“Mein Gott! yes,” replied the corporal again.

“And now I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mr Corporal; I will prepare it myself; and, then, Mr Vanslyperken shall have it grilled for his breakfast, and then he shall not eat it, but leave it for Smallbones, and then Smallbones shall pretend to eat it, but put it in his pocket, and then (for it won’t do to do it on board, or he’ll find out that the lad has given it to the dog) he shall bring it on shore, and give it to the dog here in the yard, so that he shall kill the dog himself, by wishing to kill others. Do you understand, corporal?”

“Mein Gott! yes, I understand what you say; but what is it that you are to prepare?”

“What? why, a red-herring to be sure.”

“But how will a red-herring kill a body or a dog?”

“Lord, corporal, how stupid you are; I’m to put arsenic in.”

“Yes; but you left that out till now.”

“Did I? well, that was an oversight; but now, corporal, you understand it all?”

“Mein Gott! yes; but if the lad does not die, what will he think?”

“Think! that he can take poison like pea-soup, without injury, and that neither man nor woman can take his life; be afraid of the lad, and leave him alone.”

“Mein Gott! yes,” replied the rather obtuse corporal, who now understood the whole plot.

Such was the snare laid for Mr Vanslyperken by the treacherous widow, and before the cutter sailed, it was put in execution. She received the lieutenant now as an accepted lover, allowed him to talk of the day, wormed out of him all his secrets except that of his treason, abused Smallbones, and acknowledged that she had been too hasty about the dog, which she would be very happy to see on shore. Vanslyperken could hardly believe his senses–the widow forgive Snarleyyow, and all for his sake, he was delighted, enchanted, threw himself at her feet, and vowed eternal gratitude with his lips–but vengeance in his heart.

Oh! Mr Vanslyperken, you deserved to be deceived.

The dislike expressed by the widow against Smallbones was also very agreeable to the lieutenant, and he made her his confidant, stating what the corporal had told him relative to the appearance of Smallbones when he was adrift.

“Well then, lieutenant,” said the widow, “if mortal man can’t hurt him, mortal woman may; and for my love for you I will prepare what will rid you of him. But, Vanslyperken, recollect there’s nothing I would not do for you; but if it were found out–O dear! O dear!”

The widow then informed him that she would prepare a red-herring with arsenic, which he should take on board, and order Smallbones to grill for his breakfast; that he was to pretend not to be well, and to allow it to be taken away by the lad, who would, of course, eat it fast enough.

“Excellent!” replied Vanslyperken, who felt not only that he should get rid of Smallbones, but have the widow in his power. “Dearest widow, how can I be sufficiently grateful? Oh! how kind, how amiable you are!” continued Vanslyperken, mumbling her fat fingers, which the widow abandoned to him without reserve.

Who would have believed that, between these two, there existed a deadly hatred? We might imagine such a thing to take place in the refinement and artificial air of a court, but not in a Dutch Lust Haus at Amsterdam. That evening, before his departure, did the widow present her swain with the fatal herring; and the swain received it with as many marks of gratitude and respect, as some knight in ancient times would have shown when presented with some magical gift by his favouring genius.

The red-herring itself was but a red-herring, but the charm consisted in the two-pennyworth of arsenic.

The next morning Vanslyperken did not fail to order the red-herring for his breakfast, but took good care not to eat it.

Smallbones, who had been duly apprised of the whole plan, asked his master, as he cleared away, whether he should keep the red-herring for the next day; but Mr Vanslyperken very graciously informed him that he might eat it himself. About an hour afterwards Mr Vanslyperken went on shore, taking with him, for the first time, Snarleyyow, and desiring Smallbones to come with him, with a bag of biscuit for the widow. This plan had been proposed by the widow, as Smallbones might be supposed to have eaten something on shore. Smallbones took as good care as his master not to eat the herring, but put it in his pocket as a _bonne bouche_ for Snarleyyow. Mr Vanslyperken, as they pulled on shore, thought that the lad smelt very strong of herring, and this satisfied him that he had eaten it; but to make more sure, he exclaimed, “Confound it, how you smell of red-herring!”

“That’s all along of having eaten one, sir,” replied Smallbones, grinning.

“You’ll grin in another way before an hour is over,” thought his master.

The lieutenant, the dog, and the biscuit were all graciously received.

“Has he eaten it?” inquired the widow.

“Yes,” replied Vanslyperken, with a nod. “Empty the bag, and I will send him on board again.”

“Not yet, not yet–give him half an hour to saunter, it will be better. That poor dog of yours must want a little grass,” said the widow, “always being on board. Let him run a little in the yard, he will find plenty there.”

The obedient lieutenant opened the back-door, and Snarleyyow, who had not forgotten either the widow Or Babette, went out of his own accord. Mr Vanslyperken looked to ascertain if the yard-door, which led to the street, was fast, and then returned, shutting the back-door after him.

Smallbones was waiting at the porch as usual.

“Babette,” cried the widow, “mind you don’t open the yard-door and let Mr Vanslyperken’s dog out. Do you hear?”

Smallbones, who understood this as the signal, immediately slipped round, opened the yard-door, took the herring out of his pocket, and threw it to Snarleyyow. The dog came to it, smelt it, seized it, and walked off, with his ears and tail up, to the sunny side of the yard, intending to have a good meal; and Smallbones, who was afraid of Mr Vanslyperken catching him in the act, came out of the yard, and hastened to his former post at the porch. He caught Babette’s eye, coming down stairs, and winked and smiled. Babette walked into the room, caught the eye of the mistress, and winked and smiled. Upon which, the widow ordered Babette to empty the bread-bag and give it to Smallbones, to take on board,–an order repeated by Vanslyperken. Before he returned to the boat, Smallbones again passed round to the yard-door. Snarleyyow was there, but no signs of the red-herring. “He’s a eaten it all, by gum,” said Smallbones, grinning, and walking away to the boat, with the bread-bag over his shoulder. As soon as he had arrived on board, the lad communicated the fact to the crew of the _Yungfrau_, whose spirits were raised by the intelligence, with the exception still of old Coble, who shook his head, and declared, “It was twopence and a red-herring thrown away.”

Mr Vanslyperken returned on board in the afternoon, fully expecting to hear of Smallbones being very ill. He was surprised that the man in the boat did not tell him, and he asked them carelessly if there was anything new on board, but received a reply in the negative. When he came on board, followed by Snarleyyow, the eyes of the crew were directed towards the dog, to see how he looked; but he appeared just as lively and as cross-grained as ever, and they all shook their heads.

Vanslyperken sent for Smallbones, and looked him hard in the face. “Ar’n’t you well?” inquired he.

“Well, sir!” replied Smallbones: “I’d a bit of a twinge in my stummick this morning, but it’s all gone off now.”

Mr Vanslyperken waited the whole day for Smallbones to die, but he did not. The crew of the vessel waited the whole day for the cur to die, but he did not. What inference could be drawn. The crew made up their minds that the dog was supernatural; and old Coble told them that he told them so. Mr Vanslyperken made up his mind that Smallbones was supernatural, and the corporal shook his head, and told him that he told him so.

The reason why Snarleyyow did not die was simply this, that he did not eat the red-herring. He had just laid it between his paws, and was about to commence, when Smallbones, having left the yard-door open in his hurry, the dog was perceived by a dog bigger than he, who happened to pass that way, and who pounced upon Snarleyyow, trampling him over and over, and walked off with the red-herring, which he had better have left alone, as he was found dead the next morning.

The widow heard, both from the corporal and Vanslyperken, the failure of both their projects. That Smallbones was not poisoned she was not surprised to hear, but she took care to agree with Vanslyperken that all attempts upon him were useless; but that the dog still lived was indeed a matter of surprise, and the widow became a convert to the corporal’s opinion that the dog was not to be destroyed.

“A whole two-pennyworth of arsenic! Babette, only think what a cur it must be!” And Babette, as well as her mistress, lifted up her hands in amazement, exclaiming, “What a cur indeed!”

Chapter XXXVI

In which Mr Vanslyperken, although at fault, comes in for the brush.

Vanslyperken having obtained his despatches from the States General, called at the house of Mynheer Krause, and received the letters of Ramsay, then, once more, the cutter’s head was turned towards England.

It may be as well to remind the reader, that it was in the month of January, sixteen hundred and ninety-nine, that we first introduced Mr Vanslyperken and his contemporaries to his notice, and that all the important events, which we have recorded, have taken place between that date and the month of May, which is now arrived. We think, indeed, that the peculiar merit of this work is its remarkable unity of time and place; for, be it observed, we intend to finish it long before the year is out, and our whole scene is, it may be said, laid in the channel, or between the channel and the Texel, which, considering it is an historical novel, is remarkable. Examine other productions of this nature, founded upon historical facts, like our own, and observe the difference. Read Scott, Bulwer, James, or Grattan, read their historical novels, and observe how they fly about from country to country, and from clime to clime. As the Scythians said to Alexander, their right arm extends to the east, and their left to the west, and the world can hardly contain them. And over how many years do they extend their pages? while our bantling is produced in the regular nine months, being the exact period of time which is required for my three volumes. It must, therefore, be allowed that in unity of time, and place and design, and adherence to facts, our historical novel is unique.

We said that it was the month of May–not May coming in as she does sometimes in her caprice, pouting, and out of humour–but May all in smiles. The weather was warm, and the sea was smooth, and the men of the cutter had stowed away their pea-jackets, and had pulled off their fishermen’s boots, and had substituted shoes. Mr Vanslyperken did not often appear on deck during the passage. He was very busy down below, and spread a piece of bunting across the skylight, so that no one could look down and see what he was about, and the cabin-door was almost always locked. What could Mr Vanslyperken be about? No one knew but Snarleyyow, and Snarleyyow could not or would not tell.

The cutter anchored in her old berth, and Vanslyperken, as usual, went on shore, with his double set of despatches, which were duly delivered; and then Mr Vanslyperken went up the main street, and turned into a jeweller’s shop. What could Mr Vanslyperken do there? Surely it was to purchase something for the widow Vandersloosh–a necklace or pair of ear-rings. No, it was not with that intention; but nevertheless, Mr Vanslyperken remained there for a long while, and then was seen to depart. Seen by whom? By Moggy Salisbury, who had observed his entering, and who could not imagine why; she, however, said nothing, but she marked the shop, and walked away.

The next day, Mr Vanslyperken went on shore, to put into his mother’s charge the money which he had received from Ramsay, and narrated all that had passed–how Smallbones had swallowed two-pennyworth of arsenic with no more effect upon him than one twinge in his stomach, and how he now fully believed that nothing would kill the boy.

“Pshaw! child–phut!–nonsense!–nothing kill him?–had he been in my hands, old as they are, and shaking as they do, he would not have lived; no, no–nobody escapes me when I am determined. We’ll talk about that, but not now, Cornelius; the weather has turned warm at last, and there is no need of fire. Go, child, the money is locked up safe, and I have my mood upon me–I may even do you a mischief.”

Vanslyperken, who knew that it was useless to remain after this hint, walked off and returned on board. As he pulled off, he passed a boat, apparently coming from the cutter, with Moggy Salisbury sitting in the stern-sheets. She waved her hand at him, and laughed ironically.

“Impudent hussy!” thought Vanslyperken, as she passed, but he dared not say a word. He turned pale with rage, and turned his head away; but little did he imagine, at the time, what great cause he had of indignation. Moggy had been three hours on board of the cutter talking with the men, but more particularly with Smallbones and the corporal, with which two she had been in earnest conference for the first hour that she was on board.

Moggy’s animosity to Vanslyperken is well known, and she ridiculed the idea of Snarleyyow being anything more than an uncommon lucky dog in escaping so often. Smallbones was of her opinion, and again declared his intention of doing the dog a mischief as soon as he could. Moggy, after her conference with these two, mixed with the ship’s company, with whom she had always been a favourite, and the corporal proceeded to superintend the cutting up and the distribution of the fresh beef which had that morning come on board.

The beef block was on the forecastle, where the major part of the crew, with Moggy, were assembled; Snarleyyow had always attended the corporal on these occasions, and was still the best of friends with him; for somehow or another, the dog had not seemed to consider the corporal a party to his brains being knocked out, but had put it all down to his natural enemy, Smallbones. The dog was, as usual, standing by the block close to the corporal, and picking up the fragments of beef which dropped from the chopper.

“I vowed by gum, that I’d have that ere dog’s tail off,” observed Smallbones; “and if no one will peach, off it shall go now. And who cares? If I can’t a kill him dead, I’ll get rid of him by bits. There’s one eye out already, and now I’ve a mind for his tail. Corporal, lend me the cleaver.”

“Bravo, Smallbones, we won’t peach–not one of us.”

“I’m not sure of that,” replied Moggy; “some won’t, I know; but there are others who may, and then Smallbones will be keel-hauled as sure as fate, and Vanslyperken will have right on his side. No, no, Smallbones–you must not do it. Give me the cleaver, corporal, I’ll do it; and anyone may tell him who pleases, when he comes on board. I don’t care for him–and he knows it, corporal. Hand me the cleaver.”

“That’s right, let Moggy do it,” said the seamen.

The corporal turned the dog round, so as to leave his tail on the block, and fed him with small pieces of meat, to keep him in the same position.

“Are you all ready, Moggy?” said Smallbones.

“Back him a little more on the block, corporal, for I won’t leave him an inch if I can help it,” said Moggy; “and stand farther back, all of you.”

Moggy raised the cleaver, took good aim–down it came upon the dog’s tail, which was separated within an inch of its insertion, and was left bleeding on the block, while the dog sprang away aft, howling most terribly, and leaving a dotted line of blood to mark his course upon the deck.

“There’s a nice skewer-piece for anyone who fancies it,” observed Moggy, looking at the dog’s tail, and throwing down the cleaver. “I think Mr Vanslyperken has had enough now for trying to flog my Jemmy–my own duck of a husband.”

“Well,” observed Coble, “seeing’s believing; but, otherwise, I never should have thought it possible to have divided that ere dog’s tail in that way.”

“He can’t be much of a devil now,” observed Bill Spurey; “for what’s a devil without a tail? A devil is like a sarpent, whose sting is in his tail.”

“Yes,” replied Short, who had looked on in silence.

“But, I say, Moggy, perhaps it’s as well for him not to find you on board.”

“What do I care?” replied Moggy. “He is more afraid of me than I of him; but, howsomever, it’s just as well not to be here, as it may get others in trouble. Mind you say at once it was me–I defy him.”

Moggy then wished them good-bye, and quitted the cutter, when she was met, as we have already observed, by Vanslyperken.

“Mein Gott! vat must be done now?” observed the corporal to those about him, looking at the mangy tail which still remained on the beef-block.

“Done, corporal,” replied Smallbones, “why, you must come for to go for to complain on it, as he comes on board. You must take the tail, and tell the tale, and purtend to be as angry and as sorry as himself, and damn _her_ up in heaps. That’s what must be done.”

This was not bad advice on the part of Smallbones–the ship’s company agreed to it, and the corporal perceived the propriety of it.

In the meantime, the dog had retreated to the cabin, and his howlings had gradually ceased; but he had left a track of blood along the deck, and down the ladder, which Dick Short perceiving, pointed to it, and cried out “Swabs.”

The men brought swabs aft, and had cleaned the deck and the ladder down to the cabin door, when Mr Vanslyperken came on board.

“Has that woman been here?” inquired Mr Vanslyperken, as he came on deck.

“Yes,” replied Dick Short.

“Did not I give positive orders that she should not?” cried Vanslyperken.

“No,” replied Dick Short.

“Then I do now,” continued the lieutenant.

“Too late,” observed Short, shrugging up his shoulders, and walking forward.

“Too late! what does he mean?” said Vanslyperken, turning to Coble.

“I knows nothing about it, sir,” replied Coble. “She came for some of her husband’s things that were left on board.”

Vanslyperken turned round to look for the corporal for explanation.

There stood Corporal Van Spitter, perfectly erect, with a very melancholy face, one hand raised as usual to his cap, and the other occupied with the tail of Snarleyyow.

“What is it? what is the matter, corporal?”

“Mynheer Vanslyperken,” replied the corporal, retaining his respectful attitude, “here is de tail.”

“Tail! what tail?” exclaimed Vanslyperken, casting his eyes upon the contents of the corporal’s left hand.

“Te tog’s tail, mynheer,” replied the corporal, gravely, “which de dam tog’s wife–Moggy–“

Vanslyperken stared; he could scarcely credit his eyesight, but there it was. For a time he could not speak for agitation; at last, with a tremendous oath, he darted into the cabin.

What were his feelings when he beheld Snarleyyow lying in a corner tailless, with a puddle of blood behind him.

“My poor, poor dog!” exclaimed Vanslyperken, covering up his face.

His sorrow soon changed to rage–he invoked all the curses he could imagine upon Moggy’s head–he vowed revenge–he stamped with rage–and then he patted Snarleyyow; and as the beast looked wistfully in his face, Vanslyperken shed tears. “My poor, poor dog! first your eye–and now your tail–what will your persecutors require next? Perdition seize them! may perdition be my portion if I am not revenged. Smallbones is at the bottom of all this; I can–I will be revenged on him.”

Vanslyperken rang the bell, and the corporal made his appearance with the dog’s tail still in his hand.

“Lay it down on the table, corporal,” said Vanslyperken, mournfully, “and tell me how this happened.”

The corporal then entered into a long detail of the way in which the dog had been _de_tailed–how he had been cutting up beef–and how while his back was turned, and Snarleyyow, as usual, was at the block, picking up the bits, Moggy Salisbury, who had been allowed to come on board by Mr Short, had caught up the cleaver and chopped off the dog’s tail.

“Was Smallbones at the block?” inquired Vanslyperken.

“He was, mynheer,” replied the corporal.

“Who held the dog while his tail was chopped off?” inquired Vanslyperken, “some one must have held him.”

This was a home question; but the corporal replied, “Yes, mynheer, some one must have held the dog.”

“You did not hear who it was, or if it were Smallbones?”

“I did not, mynheer,” replied the corporal; “but,” added he with a significant look, “I tink I could say.”

“Yes, yes, corporal, I know who you mean. It was him–I am sure–and as sure as I sit here I’ll be revenged. Bring a swab, corporal, and wipe up all this blood. Do you think the poor animal will recover?”

“Yes, mynheer; there be togs with tail and togs without tail.”

“But the loss of blood–what must be done to stop the bleeding?”

“Dat d—-n woman Moggy, when I say te tog die–tog bleed to death, she say, tell Mynheer Vanslyperken dat de best ting for cure de cur be de red hot poker.”

Here Vanslyperken stamped his feet and swore horribly.

“She say, mynheer, it stop all de bleeding.”

“I wish she had a hot poker down her body,” exclaimed Vanslyperken, bitterly.

“Go for the swab, corporal, and send Smallbones here.”

Smallbones made his appearance.

“Did you come for–to want me, sir?”

“Yes, sir. I understand from the corporal that you held the dog while that woman cut off his tail.”

“If so be as how as the corporal says that ere,” cried Smallbones, striking the palm of his left hand with his right fist, “why I am jiggered if he don’t tell a lie as big as himself–that’s all. That ere man is my mortal henemy; and if that ere dog gets into trouble I’m a sartain to be in trouble too. What should I cut the dog’s tail off for, I should like for to know? I arn’t so hungry as all that, any how.”

The idea of eating his dog’s tail increased the choler of Mr Vanslyperken. With looks of malignant vengeance he ordered Smallbones out of the cabin.

“Shall I shy this here overboard, sir?” said Smallbones, taking up the dog’s tail, which lay on the table.

“Drop it, sir,” roared Vanslyperken.

Smallbones walked away, grinning with delight, but his face was turned from Mr Vanslyperken.

The corporal returned, swabbed up the blood, and reported that the bleeding had stopped. Mr Vanslyperken had no further orders for him–he wished to be left alone. He leaned his head upon his hand, and remained for some time in a melancholy reverie, with his eyes fixed upon the tail, which lay before him–that tail, now a “bleeding piece of earth,” which never was to welcome him with a wag again. What passed in Vanslyperken’s mind during this time, it would be too difficult and too long to repeat, for the mind flies over time and space with the rapidity of the lightning’s flash. At last he rose, took up the dog’s tail, put it into his pocket, went on deck, ordered his boat, and pulled on shore.

Chapter XXXVII

In which Mr Vanslyperken drives a very hard bargain.

We will be just and candid in our opinion relative to the historical facts which we are now narrating. Party spirit, and various other feelings, independent of misrepresentation do, at the time, induce people to form their judgment, to say the best, harshly, and but too often, incorrectly. It is for posterity to calmly weigh the evidence handed down, and to examine into the merits of a case divested of party bias. Actuated by these feelings, we do not hesitate to assert, that, in the point at question, Mr Vanslyperken had great cause for being displeased; and that the conduct of Moggy Salisbury, in cutting off the tail of Snarleyyow was, in our opinion, not justifiable.

There is a respect for property, inculcated and protected by the laws, which should never be departed from; and, whatever may have been the aggressions on the part of Mr Vanslyperken, or of the dog, still a tail is a tail, and whether mangy or not, is _bond fide_ a part of the living body; and this aggression must inevitably come under the head of the cutting and maiming act, which act, however, it must, with the same candour which will ever guide our pen, be acknowledged, was not passed until a much later period than that to the history of which our narrative refers.

Having thus, with all deference, offered our humble opinion, we shall revert to facts. Mr Vanslyperken went on shore, with the dog’s tail in his pocket. He walked with rapid strides towards the half-way houses, in one of which was the room tenanted by his aged mother; for, to whom else could he apply for consolation in this case of severe distress? That it was Moggy Salisbury who gave the cruel blow, was a fact completely substantiated by evidence; but that it was Smallbones who held the dog, and who thereby became an active participator, and therefore equally culpable, was a surmise to which the insinuations of the corporal had given all the authority of direct evidence. And, as Mr Vanslyperken felt that Moggy was not only out of his power, but even if in his power, that he dare not retaliate upon her, for reasons which we have already explained to our readers; it was, therefore, clear to him, that Smallbones was the party upon whom his indignation could be the most safely vented: and, moreover, that in so doing, he was only paying off a long accumulating debt of hatred and ill-will. But, at the same time, Mr Vanslyperken had made up his mind that a lad who could be floated out to the Nab buoy and back again without sinking–who could have a bullet through his head without a mark remaining–and who could swallow a whole twopenny-worth of arsenic without feeling more than a twinge in his stomach, was not so very easy to be made away with. That the corporal’s vision was no fiction, was evident–the lad was not to be hurt by mortal man; but although the widow’s arsenic had failed, Mr Vanslyperken, in his superstition, accounted for it on the grounds that the woman was not the active agent on the occasion, having only prepared the herring, it not having been received from her hands by Smallbones. The reader may recollect that, in the last interview between Vanslyperken and his mother, the latter had thrown out hints that if she took Smallbones in hand he would not have such miraculous escapes as he had had, as, in all she undertook, she did her business thoroughly. Bearing this in mind, Mr Vanslyperken went to pour forth his sorrows, and to obtain the assistance of his much-to-be-respected and venerable mother.

“Well, child, what is it–is it money you bring?” cried the old woman, when Vanslyperken entered the room.

“No, mother,” replied Vanslyperken, throwing himself on the only chair in the room, except the one with the legs cut off half-way up, upon which his mother was accustomed to rock herself before the grate.

“No, mother; but I have brought something–and I come to you for advice and assistance.”

“Brought no money–yet brought something!–well, child, what have you brought?”

“This!” exclaimed Vanslyperken, throwing the dog’s tail down upon the table.

“This!” repeated the old beldame, lifting up the tail, and examining it as well as she could, as the vibration of her palsied members were communicated to the article–and pray, child, what is this?”

“Are you blind, old woman,” replied Vanslyperken in wrath, “not to perceive that it is my poor dog’s tail?”

“Blind old woman! and dog’s tail, eh! Blind old woman, eh! Mr Cornelius, you dare to call me a blind old woman, and to bring here the mangy tail of a dog–and to lay it on my table! Is this your duty, sirrah? How dare you take such liberties? There, sir,” cried the hag in a rage, catching hold of the tail, and sending it flying out of the casement, which was open–“there, sir–and now you may follow your tail. D’ye hear?–leave the room instantly, or I’ll cleave your craven skull. Blind old woman, forsooth–undutiful child–“

Vanslyperken, in spite of his mother’s indignation, could not prevent his eyes from following the tail of his dog, as it sailed through the ambient air surrounding the half-way houses, and was glad to observe it landed among some cabbage-leaves thrown into the road, without attracting notice. Satisfied that he should regain his treasure when he quitted the house, he now turned round to deprecate his mother’s wrath, who had not yet completed the sentence which we have quoted above.

“I supplicate your pardon, my dear mother,” said Vanslyperken, who felt that in her present humour he was not likely to gain the point with her that he had in contemplation. “I was so vexed–so irritated–that I knew not what I was saying.”

“Blind old woman, indeed,” repeated the beldame.

“I again beg you to forgive me, dearest mother,” continued Vanslyperken.

“All about a dog’s tail cut off. Better off than on–so much the less mange on the snarling cur.”

This was touching up Vanslyperken on the raw; but he had a great object in view, and he restrained his feelings.

“I was wrong, mother–very wrong–but I have done all I can, I have begged your pardon. I came here for your advice and assistance.”

“What advice or assistance can you expect from a blind old woman?” retorted the old hag. “And what advice or assistance does so undutiful a child deserve?”

It was some time before the ruffled temper of the beldame could be appeased: at last, Vanslyperken succeeded. He then entered into a detail of all that had passed, and concluded by observing, “that as Smallbones was not to be injured by mortal man, he had come to her for assistance.”

“That is to say–you have come to me to ask me to knock the lad’s brains out–to take away his life–to murder him, in fact. Say, Cornelius, is it not so?”

“It is exactly so, my dearest mother. I know your courage–your–“

“Yes, yes, I understand all that; but, now hear me, child. There are deeds which are done, and which I have done, but those deeds are only done upon strong impulses. Murder is one, but people murder for two reasons only–for revenge and for gold. People don’t do such acts as are to torture their minds here, and perhaps be punished hereafter–that is, if there be one, child. I say, people don’t do such deeds as these, merely because a graceless son comes to them, and says, ‘if you please, mother.’ Do you understand that, child? I’ve blood enough on my hands already–good blood too–they are not defiled with the scum of a parish boy, nor shall they be, without–“

“Without what, mother?”

“Have I not told you, Cornelius, that there are but two great excitements–revenge and gold? I have no revenge against the lad. If you have–if you consider that a dog’s, tail demands a human victim–well and good–do the deed yourself.”

“I would,” cried Vanslyperken, “but I have tried in vain. It must be done by woman.”

“Then hear me, Cornelius; if it must be done by woman, you must find a woman to do it, and you must pay her for the deed. Murder is at a high price. You apply to me–I am content to do the deed; but I must have gold–and plenty too.”

Vanslyperken paused before he replied. The old woman had charge of all his money–she was on the verge of the grave–for what could she require his gold?–could she be so foolish?–it was insanity. Vanslyperken was right–it was insanity, for avarice is no better.

“Do you mean, mother,” replied Vanslyperken, “that you want gold from me?”

“From whom else?” demanded the old woman sharply.

“Take it, then, mother–take as many pieces as you please.”

“I must have all that there is in that chest, Cornelius.”

“All, mother?”

“Yes, all; and what is it, after all? What price is too high for blood which calls for retribution? Besides, Cornelius, it must be all yours again when I die; but I shall not die yet–no, no.”

“Well, mother,” replied Vanslyperken, “if it must be so, it shall all be yours–not that I can see what difference it makes, whether it is called yours or mine.”

“Then why not give it freely? Why do you hesitate to give to your poor old mother what may be again yours before the leaf again falls? Ask yourself why, Cornelius, and then you have my answer. The gold is here in my charge, but it is not _my_ gold–it is yours. You little think how often I’ve laid in bed and longed that it was all _mine_. Then I would count it–count it again and again–watch over it, not as I do now as a mere deposit in my charge, but as a mother would watch and smile upon her first-born child. There is a talisman in that word _mine_, that not approaching _death_ can wean from _life_. It is our natures, child–say, then, is all that gold _mine_?”

Vanslyperken paused; he also felt the magic of the word; and although it was but a nominal and temporary divestment of the property, even that gave him a severe struggle; but his avarice was overcome by his feelings of revenge, and he answered solemnly, “As I hope for revenge, mother, _all_ that gold is _yours_, provided that you do the deed.”

Here the old hag burst into a sort of shrieking laugh. “Send him here, child;” and the almost unearthly cachinnation was continued–“send him here, child–I can’t go to seek him–and it is done–only bring him here.”

So soon as this compact had been completed, Vanslyperken and his mother had a consultation; and it was agreed, that it would be advisable not to attempt the deed until the day before the cutter sailed, as it would remove all suspicion, and be supposed that the boy had deserted. This arrangement having been made, Vanslyperken made rather a hasty retreat. The fact was, that he was anxious to recover the fragment of Snarleyyow, which his mother had so contemptuously thrown out of the casement.

Chapter XXXVIII

In which Mr Vanslyperken is taken for a witch.

Mr Vanslyperken hastened into the street, and walked towards the heap of cabbage-leaves, in which he observed the object of his wishes to have fallen; but there was some one there before him, an old sow, very busy groping among the refuse. Although Vanslyperken came on shore without even a stick in his hand, he had no fear of a pig, and walked up boldly to drive her away, fully convinced that, although she might like cabbage, not being exactly carnivorous, he should find the tail in _status quo_. But it appeared that the sow not only would not stand being interfered with, but, moreover, was carnivorously inclined; for she was at that very moment routing the tail about with her nose, and received Vanslyperken’s advance with a very irascible grunt, throwing her head up at him with a savage augh; and then again busied herself with the fragment of Snarleyyow. Vanslyperken, who had started back, perceived that the sow was engaged with the very article in question; and finding it was a service of more danger than he had expected, picked up one or two large stones, and threw them at the animal to drive her away. This mode of attack had the effect desired in one respect; the sow made a retreat, but at the same time she would not retreat without the _bonne bouche_, which she carried away in her mouth.

Vanslyperken followed; but the sow proved that she could fight as well as run, every minute turning round to bay, and chumping and grumbling in a very formidable manner. At last, after Vanslyperken had chased for a quarter of a mile, he received unexpected assistance from a large dog, who bounded from the side of the road, where he lay in the sun, and seizing the sow by the ear, made her drop the tail to save her own bacon.

Vanslyperken was delighted; he hastened up as fast as he could to regain his treasure, when, to his mortification, the great dog, who had left the sow, arrived at the spot before him, and after smelling at the not one bone, but many bones of contention, he took it in his mouth, and trotted off to his former berth in the sunshine, laid himself down, and the tail before him.

“Surely one dog won’t eat another dog’s tail,” thought Vanslyperken, as he walked up to the animal; but an eye like fire, a deep growl, and exposure of a range of teeth equal to a hyena’s, convinced Mr Vanslyperken that it would be wise to retreat–which he did, to a respectable distance, and attempted to coax the dog. “Poor doggy, there’s a dog,” cried Vanslyperken, snapping his fingers, and approaching gradually. To his horror, the dog did the same thing exactly: he rose, and approached Mr Vanslyperken gradually, and snapped his fingers: not content with that, he flew at him, and tore the skirt of his great-coat clean off, and also the hinder part of his trousers for Mr Vanslyperken immediately turned tail, and the dog appeared resolved to have his tail as well as that of his darling cur. Satisfied with about half a yard of broadcloth as a trophy, the dog returned to his former situation, and remained with the tail of the coat and the tail of the cur before him, with his fierce eyes fixed upon Mr Vanslyperken, who had now retreated to a greater distance.

But this transaction was not unobserved by several of the people who inhabited the street of cottages. Many eyes were directed to where Mr Vanslyperken and the sow and dog had been at issue, and many were the conjectures thereon.

When the dog retreated with the skirt of the great-coat, many came out to ascertain what was the cause of the dispute, and among others, the man to whom the dog belonged, and who lived at the cottage opposite to where the dog had lain down. He observed Vanslyperken, looking very much like a vessel whose sails have been split in a gale, and very rueful at the same time, standing at a certain distance, quite undecided how to act, and he called out to him, “What is it you may want with my dog, man?”

Man! Vanslyperken thought this designation an affront; whereas, in our opinion, Vanslyperken was an affront to the name of man. “Man!” exclaimed Vanslyperken; “why your dog has taken my property!”

“Then take your property,” replied the other, tossing to him the skirt of his coat, which he had taken from the dog.

By this time there was a crowd collected from out of the various surrounding tenements.

“That’s not all,” exclaimed Vanslyperken; “he has got my dog’s tail there.”

“Your dog’s tail!” exclaimed the man, “what do you mean? Is it this ragged mangy thing you would have?” and the man took the tail of Snarleyyow, and held it up to the view of the assembled crowd.

“Yes,” replied Vanslyperken, coming towards the man with eagerness; “that is what I want,” and he held out his hand to receive it.

“And pray, may I ask,” replied the other, looking very suspiciously at Vanslyperken, “what can you want with this piece of carrion?”

“To make soup of,” replied another, laughing; “he can’t afford ox-tail.”

Vanslyperken made an eager snatch at his treasure; but the man lifted it up on the other side, out of his reach.

“Let us have a look at this chap,” said the first, examining Vanslyperken, whose peaked nose and chin, small ferret eyes, and downcast look were certainly not in his favour; neither were his old and now tattered habiliments. Certainly no one would have taken Vanslyperken for a king’s officer–unfortunately they took him for something else.

“Now tell me, fellow, what were you going to do with this?” inquired the man in a severe tone.

“I sha’n’t tell you,” replied Vanslyperken.

“Why that’s the chap that I sees go in and out of the room where that old hell-fire witch lives, who curses all day long.”

“I thought as much,” observed the man, who still held up the cur’s tail. “Now I appeal to you all, what can a fellow want with such as this–ay, my good people, and want it so much too, as to risk being torn to pieces for it–if he arn’t inclined to evil practices?”

“That’s sartain sure,” replied another.

“A witch–a witch!” cried the whole crowd.

“Let’s duck him–tie his thumbs–away with him–come along, my lads, away with him.”

Although there were not, at the time we write about, regular witch-finders, as in the time of James I., still the feeling against witches, and the belief that they practised, still existed. They were no longer handed over to summary and capital punishment, but whenever suspected they were sure to meet with very rough treatment. Such was the fate of Mr Vanslyperken, who was now seized by the crowd, buffeted, and spit upon, and dragged to the parish pump, there being, fortunately for him, no horse-pond near. After having been well beaten, pelted with mud, his clothes torn off his back, his hat taken away and stamped upon, he was held under the pump and drenched for nearly half-an-hour, until he lay beneath the spout in a state of complete exhaustion. The crowd were then satisfied, and he was left to get away how he could, which he did, after a time, in a most deplorable plight, bare-headed, in his shirt and torn trousers. He contrived to walk as far as to the house where his mother resided, was admitted to her room, when he fell exhausted on the bed. The old woman was astonished; and having some gin in her cupboard, revived him by administering a small quantity, and, in the course of half-an-hour, Vanslyperken could tell his story; but all the consolation he received from the old beldame was, “Serve you right too, for being such an ass. I suppose you’ll be bringing the stupid people about my ears soon–they’ve hooted me before now. Ah, well–I’ll not be pumped upon for nothing–my knife is a sharp one.”

Vanslyperken had clothes under his mother’s charge, and he dressed himself in another suit, and then hastened away, much mortified and confounded with the latter events of the day. The result of his arrangements with his mother was, however, a balm to his wounded spirit, and he looked upon Smallbones as already dead. He hastened down into his cabin, as soon as he arrived on board, to ascertain the condition of Snarleyyow, whom he found as well as could be expected, and occasionally making unavailing attempts to lick the stump of his tail.

“My poor dog!” exclaimed Vanslyperken, “what have you suffered, and what have I suffered for you? Alas! if I am to suffer as I have to-day for only your tail, what shall I go through for your whole body?” And, as Vanslyperken recalled his misfortunes, so did his love increase for the animal who was the cause of them. Why so, we cannot tell, except that it has been so from the beginning, is so now, and always will be the case, for the best of all possible reasons–that it is _human nature_.

Chapter XXXIX

In which is recorded a most barbarous and bloody murder.

We observed, in a previous chapter, that Mr Vanslyperken was observed by Moggy Salisbury to go into a jeweller’s shop, and remain there some time, and that Moggy was very inquisitive to know what it was that could induce Mr Vanslyperken to go into so unusual a resort for him.

The next day she went into the shop upon a pretence of looking at some ear-rings, and attempted to enter into conversation with the jeweller; but the jeweller, not perhaps admiring Moggy’s appearance, and not thinking her likely to be a customer, dismissed her with very short answers. Failing in her attempt, Moggy determined to wait till Nancy Corbett should come over, for she knew that Nancy could dress and assume the fine lady, and be more likely to succeed than herself. But although Moggy could not penetrate into the mystery, it is necessary the reader should be informed of the proceedings of Mr Vanslyperken.

When Ramsay had shown him how to open the government despatches, and had provided him with the false seals for the re-impressions, he forgot that he also was pointing out to Vanslyperken the means of also opening his own, and discovering his secrets, as well as those of government; but Vanslyperken, who hated Ramsay, on account of his behaviour towards him, and would with pleasure have seen the whole of his party, as well as himself, on the gibbet, thought that it might be just as well to have two strings to his bow; and he argued, that if he could open the letters of the conspirators, and obtain their secrets, they would prove valuable to him, and perhaps save his neck, if he were betrayed to the government. On his passage, therefore, to Amsterdam, he had carefully examined the seal of Ramsay, and also that on the letters forwarded to him; and, having made a drawing, and taken the impression in wax, as a further security, he had applied to the jeweller in question to get him seals cut out with these impressions, and of the exact form and size. The jeweller, who cared little what he did, provided that he was well paid, asked no questions, but a very high price, and Vanslyperken, knowing that they would be cheap to him at any price, closed with him on his own terms, provided that they were immediately forthcoming. In the week, according to the agreement, the seals were prepared. Mr Vanslyperken paid his money, and now was waiting for orders to sail.

The dog’s stump was much better.

On the ninth day, a summons to the admiral’s house was sent, and Vanslyperken was ordered to hold himself in readiness to sail the next morning at daylight. He immediately repaired to the Jew’s, to give intimation, and from thence to his mother’s to prepare her for the arrival of Smallbones that evening a little before dusk.

Vanslyperken had arranged that, as soon as the murder had been committed, he would go to the Jew’s for letters, and then hasten on board, sailing the next morning at daylight; so that if there was any discovery, the whole onus might be on his mother, who, for all he cared, might be hung. It is a true saying, that a good mother makes a good son.

When Vanslyperken intimated to Smallbones that he was going on shore in the evening, and should take him with him, the lad did not forget the last walk that he had in company with his master, and, apprehensive that some mischief was intended, he said, “I hope it arn’t for to fetch another walk in the country, sir?”

“No, no,” replied Vanslyperken, “it’s to take some biscuit up to a poor old woman close by. I don’t want to be robbed, any more than you do, Smallbones.”

But the very quick reply of his master only increased the apprehension of Smallbones, who left the cabin, and hastened to Corporal Van Spitter, to consult with him.

Corporal Van Spitter was of the same opinion as Smallbones, that mischief was intended him, and offered to provide him with a pistol; but Smallbones, who knew little about fire-arms, requested that he might have a bayonet instead, which he could use better. He was supplied with this, which he concealed within his shirt, and when ordered, he went into the boat with Vanslyperken. They landed, and it was dark before they arrived at the half-way houses. Vanslyperken ascended the stairs, and ordered Smallbones to follow him. As soon as they were in the room, Mr Vanslyperken said, “Here is the biscuit, good woman, and much good may it do you.”

“It’s very kind of you, sir, and many thanks. It’s not often that people are charitable now-a-days, and this has been a hard winter for poor folk. Put the bag down there, my good little fellow,” continued the old hypocrite, addressing Smallbones.

“And now, good woman, I shall leave my lad with you, till I come back. I have to call at a friend’s, and I need not take him. Smallbones, stay here till I return; get the biscuit out of the bag, as we must take that on board again.”

Smallbones had no objection to remain with a withered, palsied old woman. He could have no fear of her, and he really began to think that his master had been guilty of charity.

Mr Vanslyperken departed, leaving Smallbones in company with his mother.

“Come now, my lad, come to the chair, and sit down by the fire,” for a fire had been lighted by the old woman expressly, “sit down, and I’ll see if I can find you something in my cupboard; I have, I know, a drop of cordial left somewhere. Sit down, child; you have had the kindness to bring the bread up for me, and I am grateful.”

The tones of the old beldame’s voice were very different from those she usually indulged in; there was almost a sweetness about them, which proved what she might have effected at the period when she was fair and young. Smallbones felt not the least disquietude; he sat down in the chair by the fire, while the old woman looked in the cupboard behind him for the cordial, of which she poured him a good allowance in a tea-cup.

Smallbones sipped and sipped, he was not in a hurry to get rid of it, as it was good; the old woman went again to the cupboard, rattled the things about a little, and then, on a sudden, taking out a large hammer, as Smallbones unconsciously sipped, she raised it with both her hands, and down came the blow on his devoted head.

The poor lad dropped the cup, sprang up convulsively, staggered, and then fell. Once he rolled over, his leg quivered, and he then moved no more.

The beldame watched him with the hammer in her hand, ready to repeat the blow if necessary, indeed she would have repeated it had it not been that after he fell, in turning over, Smallbones’ head had rolled under the low bedstead where she slept.

“My work is sure,” muttered she, “and _all_ the _gold_ is _mine_.”

Again she watched, but there was no motion–a stream of blood appeared from under the bed, and ran in a little rivulet towards the fire-place.

“I wish I could pull him out,” said the old woman, lugging at the lad’s legs; “another blow or two would make more sure.” But the effort was above her strength, and she abandoned it. “It’s no matter,” muttered she; “he’ll never tell tales again.”

But there the old hag was mistaken; Smallbones had been stunned, but not killed; the blow of the hammer had fortunately started off, divided the flesh of the skull for three inches, with a gash which descended to his ear. At the very time that she uttered her last expressions, Smallbones was recovering his senses, but he was still confused, as if in a dream.

“Yes, yes,” said the old woman, after some minutes’ pause, “all the gold is mine.”

The lad heard this sentence, and he now remembered where he was, and what had taken place. He was about to rise, when there was a knocking at the door, and he lay still. It was Vanslyperken. The door was opened by the old beldame.

“Is it done?” said he, in a loud whisper.

“Done!” cried the hag; “yes, and well done. Don’t tell me of charmed life. My blows are sure–see there.”

“Are you sure that he is dead?”

“Quite sure, child–and all the gold is mine.”

Vanslyperken looked with horror at the stream of blood still flowing, and absorbed by the ashes in the grate.

“It was you did it, mother; recollect it was not I,” cried he.

“I did it–and you paid for it–and all the gold is mine.”

“But are you quite sure that he is dead?”

“Sure–yes, and in judgment now, if there is any.”

Vanslyperken surveyed the body of Smallbones, who, although he had heard every word, lay without motion, for he knew his life depended on it. After a minute or two the lieutenant was satisfied.

“I must go on board now, mother; but what will you do with the body?”

“Leave that to me; who ever comes in here? Leave that to me, craven, and, as you say, go on board.”

Vanslyperken opened the door, and went out of the room; the old hag made the door fast, and then sat down on the chair, which she replaced by the side of the fire with her back to Smallbones.

The lad felt very faint from loss of blood, and was sick at the stomach, but his senses were in their full vigour.

He now was assured that Vanslyperken was gone, and that he had only the old woman opposed to him. His courage was unsubdued, and he resolved to act in self-defence if required; and he softly drew the bayonet out of his breast, and then watched the murderous old hag, who was rocking herself in the chair.

“Yes, yes, the gold is mine,” muttered she–“I’ve won it, and I’ll count it. I won it dearly;–another murder–well, ’tis but one more. Let me see, what shall I do with the body? I must burn it, by bits and bits–and I’ll count the gold–it’s all mine, for he’s dead.”

Here the old woman turned round to look at the body, and her keen eyes immediately perceived that there was a slight change of position.

“Heh'” cried she, “not quite dead yet; we must have the hammer again,” and she rose from her chair, and walked with an unsteady pace to pick up the hammer, which was at the other side of the fire-place. Smallbones, who felt that now was his time, immediately rose, but before he could recover his _feet_, she had turned round to him: with a sort of low yell, she darted at him with an agility not to be imagined in one of her years and decrepit appearance, and struck at him. Smallbones raised his left arm, and received the blow, and with his right plunged the bayonet deep into the wrinkled throat of the old woman. She grappled with him, and the struggle was dreadful; she caught his throat in one of her bony hands, and the nails pierced into it like the talons of a bird of prey–the fingers of the other she inserted into the jagged and gaping wound on his head, and forced the flesh still more asunder, exerting all her strength to force him on his back; but the bayonet was still in her throat, and with the point descending towards the body, and Smallbones forced and forced it down, till it was buried to the hilt. In a few seconds the old hag loosed her hold, quivered, and fell back dead; and the lad was so exhausted with the struggle, and his previous loss of blood, that he fell into a swoon at the side of the corpse.

When Smallbones recovered, the candle was flickering in the socket. He rose up in a sitting posture, and tried to recollect all that had passed.

The alternating light of the candle flashed upon the body of the old woman, and he remembered all. After a few minutes he was able to rise, and he sat down upon the bed giddy and faint. It occurred to him that he would soon be in the dark, and he would require the light to follow up his intended movements, so he rose, and went to the cupboard to find one. He found a candle, and he also found the bottle of cordial, of which he drank all that was left, and felt himself revived, and capable of acting. Having put the other candle into the candlestick, he looked for water, washed himself, and bound up his head with his handkerchief. He then wiped up the blood from the floor, threw some sand over the part, and burnt the towel in the grate. His next task was one of more difficulty, to lift up the body of the old woman, put it into the bed, and cover it up with the clothes, previously drawing out the bayonet. No blood issued from the wound–the hemorrhage was all internal. He covered up the face, took the key of the door, and tried it in the lock, put the candle under the grate to burn out safely, took possession of the hammer; then having examined the door, he went out, locked it from the outside, slid the key in beneath the door, and hastened away as fast as he could. He was not met by anybody, and was soon safe in the street, with the bayonet, which he again concealed in his vest.

These precautions taken by Smallbones, proved that the lad had conduct as well as courage. He argued that it was not advisable that it should be known that this fatal affray had taken place between the old woman and himself. Satisfied with having preserved his life, he was unwilling to be embroiled in a case of murder, as he wished to prosecute his designs with his companions on board.

He knew that Vanslyperken was capable of swearing anything against him, and that his best safety lay in the affair not being found out, which it could not be until the cutter had sailed, and no one had seen him either enter or go out. There was another reason which induced Smallbones to act as he did–without appealing to the authorities–which was, that if he returned on board, it would create such a shock to Mr Vanslyperken, who had, as he supposed, seen him lying dead upon the floor. But there was one person to whom he determined to apply for advice before he decided how to proceed, and that was Moggy Salisbury, who had given her address to him when she had gone on board the _Yungfrau_. To her house he therefore repaired, and found her at home. It was then about nine o’clock in the evening.

Moggy was much surprised to see Smallbones enter in such a condition; but Smallbones’ story was soon told, and Moggy sent for a surgeon, the services of whom the lad seriously required. While his wound was dressing, which was asserted by them to have been received in a fray, Moggy considered what would be the best method to proceed. The surgeon stated his intention of seeing Smallbones the next day, but he was requested to leave him sufficient dressing, as it was necessary that he should repair on board, as the vessel which he belonged to sailed on the following morning. The surgeon received his fee, recommended quiet and repose, and retired.

A consultation then took place. Smallbones expressed his determination to go on board; he did not fear Mr Vanslyperken, as the crew of the cutter would support him–and, moreover, it would frighten Mr Vanslyperken out of his wits. To this Moggy agreed, but she proposed that instead of making his appearance on the following morning, he should not appear to Mr Vanslyperken until the vessel was in the blue water; if possible, not till she was over on the other side. And Moggy determined to go on board, see the corporal, and make the arrangements with him and the crew, who were now unanimous, for the six marines were at the beck of the corporal, so that Mr Vanslyperken should be frightened out of his wits. Desiring Smallbones to lie down on her bed, and take the rest he so much needed, she put on her bonnet and cloak, and taking a boat, pulled gently alongside the cutter.

Vanslyperken had been on board for two hours, and was in his cabin; the lights, however, were still burning. The corporal was still up, anxiously waiting for the return of Smallbones, and he was very much alarmed when he heard Moggy come alongside. Moggy soon detailed to the corporal, Dick Short, and Coble, all that had taken place, and what it was proposed should be done. They assented willingly to the proposal, declaring that if Vanslyperken attempted to hurt the lad, they would rise, and throw Mr Vanslyperken overboard; and everything being arranged, Moggy was about to depart, when Vanslyperken, who was in a state of miserable anxiety and torture, and who had been drowning his conscience in scheedam, came on deck not a little the worse for what he had been imbibing.

“Who is that woman?” cried Vanslyperken.

“That woman is Moggy Salisbury,” cried Moggy, walking up to Vanslyperken, while the corporal skulked forward without being detected.

“Have I not given positive orders that this woman does not come on board?” cried Vanslyperken, holding on by the skylight. “Who is that–Mr Short?”

“Yes,” replied Short.

“Why did you allow her to come on board?”

“I came without leave,” said Moggy. “I brought a message on board.”

“A message! what message–to whom?”

“To you,” replied Moggy.

“To me–from whom, you cockatrice?”

“I’ll tell you,” replied Moggy, walking close up to him; “from Lazarus the Jew. Will you hear it, or shall I leave it with Dick Short?”

“Silence–silence–not a word; come down into the cabin, good Moggy. Come down–I’ll hear it then”