It has not happened to many men, as
I think, to have fallen into the hands of as cruel
and bloodthirsty a monster as ever defiled God’s
earth, and to have escaped to tell the tale. Yet
it is of this that I have come to write; and of all
the hardships and perils which I went through from
the time I fled from my father’s house to seek
for treasure in the East Indies; and of the battles
in which I fought; and of the madness of love and
jealousy which I knew; and of how the man I trusted
became my enemy, and pursued me with his vengeance;
and of the treasure which I found in the palace of
the Hindoo king; and of how I returned at last to
my own home.
Nor do I greatly expect that the hearing
of these things will be effectual to hinder those
who come after me from adventuring in their turn,
for young blood will have its way, like sap in the
veins of a growing tree. But there are times
when I think that if I could have looked forward and
seen what was to come, and all the dire straits through
which I was to pass both among my own countrymen
and in those distant lands I might have
given a different welcome to my cousin Rupert when
he came riding into Brandon, on the evening of that
day which was to be the last of my boyhood.
I had come out of the house before
supper was laid, as I often used, and had made my
way along the edge of the dyke which runs through our
meadows into the broad, which we call Breydon Water;
and there by the margin of the broad I stood, while
the sun was setting behind me, and watched the light
flush and fade over the grey spire and high red roofs
of Yarmouth town. Many a night I had come there
to the same spot and gazed with wistful eyes at that
prospect; for though I was, in a manner, familiar
with the old town, and had gone in there on market
days many a time since I was a boy, yet, at this hour,
and seen across the water in the bright blaze of the
sunset, it seemed to be strangely removed and glorified like
that city which Christian had a prospect of from the
Delectable Mountains and I could never think
of it as other than an enchanted region, the gate
of the great world, where the hours throbbed with
action, and life was more full and splendid than in
our lonely grange among the broads; and my heart was
fretted within me, and day by day the longing grew
upon me to break out of the narrow limits in which
my life was bound, and take my way thither into the
glamour and the mystery of the world.
Then all at once, as I stood there
and gazed, I was aware of the sound of a horse’s
hoofs coming over the wet grass, and turned and saw
my cousin riding towards me on his black mare and
waving his whip to me as he came.
I had a great affection for my cousin
in those days, mingled with a sort of dreadful admiration
for the character he bore. He was my elder by
nearly ten years, and had been, in my eyes, a man ever
since I was a child, so that I looked up to him with
reverence, and thought nothing so delightful as to
have him come down, bringing the air and rumour of
the outside world into our quiet homestead. Indeed,
he seemed to be of a superior order to us, and might
almost be reckoned as one of the gentry, for his father
came of the Gurneys of Lynn, and had set up a great
brewery of ale there, by which he enriched himself
past all counting. How such a man had come to
marry my aunt I never knew, for my father kept silence
on the subject, and Rupert himself could tell me nothing
of his mother, who had died when he was but an infant.
Nor was there much intercourse between our families,
except that twice a year, at Lady-day and Christmas,
Mr. Gurney would send us a barrel of his best brewing;
and once a year, on the 1st of January for
he would give no countenance to the feasts of the
Church my father despatched a pair of fine
turkeys to Lynn.
Cousin Rupert always showed a friendship
for us, and I believe would have given us his company
more often but for my father’s disapproval of
his manner of life; for he was already known as a wild
companion, and one who set little store by religion
and respectability. There was even a scandalous
report that he had been fined by the Aldermen of Yarmouth
under the new statute made against profane swearing.
They had fixed his fine, so it was said, at two shillings,
being the penalty for common persons above the degree
of a day labourer; but my cousin Rupert, taking out
his purse with a great air, demanded to have his oath
assessed like a gentleman’s, and paid down a
silver crown upon the table.
Since then he had been away beyond
seas, nor had I set eyes on him for the best part
of three years. It was thought that he had been
taking some part in the wars which then raged all
over Europe; and difficult enough it was to understand
what they were all about, and whom we were fighting;
for at one time we were on the side of the great Empress
Maria Theresa, and against the young King of Prussia,
who was dubbed an infidel; and then later on we were
fighting against the Empress it is true
she was a Papist and King Frederic was in
all men’s mouths as the Protestant hero:
I remember myself seeing his portrait painted up on
the sign-board of the inn at Blundell. However,
we were always against the French, whatever happened.
But, as it turned out, all this had
no concern with my cousin. I cannot tell how
glad I was to see him back again, and I think he was
not ill-pleased at seeing me.
“Hallo, is that young Athelstane!”
he called out as soon as he was near enough.
“Come on with me, cousin, and help me to put
up my horse. I have ridden out from Yarmouth,
and I mean to sleep here to-night.”
He sounded his words in the mincing,
London fashion, which was then beginning to spread
among the better class in Norfolk; but I cannot imitate
his speech, and so write it down as if it were plain
English.
Quick as my feet could carry me I
ran forward in front of the horse, and was there with
the gate of the yard open before my cousin came up.
My father turned out of doors at the
clatter, and looked not over pleased when he caught
sight of Rupert’s dark face. However, he
was a man who would never shut the door against his
own blood, and he gave him some sort of a friendly
greeting.
“Well, Nephew Rupert, how long
have you been back in England?” he asked him,
as soon as the horse had been taken in and given its
feed.
“It is scarce a month since
I landed,” my cousin answered; “but being
in Yarmouth, and you so near, I could not forbear riding
over to spend a night with you.”
By this time we were come into the
house, and my mother was in the hall to welcome him,
which she did with great kindness; for though he was
not of her kin, I believe she loved him better than
my father did. But that is saying little, for
who was there about her that she did not love?
Even those who held aloof from my father as a stubborn
Independent had a kindness for my mother, who seemed
to understand nought of differences in religion, except
between Christian and heathen.
My father was of a different stamp.
It was his boast that he was related to the family
of the famous John Bradshaw, the judge who pronounced
sentence on King Charles I, and whose house stands
on Yarmouth quay to this day. My father has many
a time pointed it out to me, and told me of the secret
conclave held there of the Independent leaders, when
it was resolved to bring the unfortunate king to the
block. I have often thought that it was well for
us that my father was a freeholder, owning the fee
simple of Brandon Farm; for the gentry around were
now all become staunch Churchmen, though loyal to King
George II, and showing no favour to the young Pretender
in his late desperate rebellion. Of that, however,
I remember little, being scarce twelve years old when
it occurred.
With the Rector of Brandon parish
we held scant intercourse, except at tithing time,
when my father always received him with grim civility
and bade him take what the law gave him, since title
from the Gospel he had none. Our only friend
in the neighbourhood was one Abner Thurstan, a farmer
who lived over the border in Blundell parish; but
as he was an Anabaptist or Baptist as they
were then beginning to call themselves and
my father had a great contempt and dislike for the
visionary ideas of that sect, even he came but seldom
to our house. His daughter Patience was a great
favourite with my mother; and for that matter I did
not dislike the child, and would oftentimes pluck
her an apple from our trees or cut a whistle for her
out of a twig of elder wood.
The man whom my father most held in
esteem was Mr. Peter Walpole, a wool factor of Norwich,
and a very religious man. He had a great gift
in the expounding of Scripture and in prayer, and it
was his custom once in every month to ride over to
our house from Norwich of a Saturday and hold a service
on the next day for such as chose to come. This
was before the Methodists had arisen in our parts,
and there was no other means of hearing the Gospel
in country places, the Church clergy being for the
most part men of the world.
Lest I seem to be wandering from my
story, let me say here that my father had been in
treaty with this Mr. Peter Walpole concerning my apprenticeship
to him in Norwich. After moping a long time at
the dullness of my life in Brandon I had plucked up
courage to tell my father that I would fain be abroad.
He heard me less unkindly than I had feared, and contrived
this plan for settling me away from home for a few
years, after which, he was pleased to say, I might
have sense enough to wish to come back. Good
Mr. Walpole came into the scheme very readily, and
I believe it was only a matter of fifty pounds between
them before the thing could be carried out; but each
held firmly to his own view of the bargain, and though
there was the same friendship between them as ever,
and Mr. Walpole prayed over the business in our house,
they could by no means come to terms.
Things stood at this pass, and I was
sorely impatient with it all, when, as I have said,
my cousin Rupert arrived, and, for good or evil, gave
my life a far different turn.
As soon as my father had seen to it
that the cloth was laid for four, and sent down the
maid with orders to fill a jug from the barrel on
the right-hand side of the cellar door, he turned to
Rupert.
“You shall taste your father’s
brewing,” he said. “I trust all is
well with him?”
“I have no doubt it is, and
I am much obliged to you, sir,” answered he
carelessly. “To tell you the truth, I have
not yet found my way to Lynn.”
“What, nephew! Have you
come here before paying your respects to your own
father?”
“I am afraid it is even so;
and I will not pay you so poor a compliment as to
remark that Brandon Grange lies forty miles nearer
to Yarmouth than King’s Lynn.”
“Fie, young man, I am ashamed
to hear you! I doubt whether I ought to have
let you cross my threshold if I had known of this.
Jessica,” he added, turning to my mother, “here
is a youth who comes to pay you a visit before he
has so much as set eyes on Lynn brewery, after three
years!”
And thrice during the evening he returned
to the same subject, each time rating master Rupert
soundly for his filial neglect, and pointing out the
many advantages which his father’s rich house
at Lynn had over what it pleased him to call the homely
grange of Brandon.
He questioned Rupert while we supped
concerning his adventures, and what quarter of the
world he had been in. But as to this my cousin
maintained a singular reserve, merely stating that
he had spent most of the time on a voyage round the
Cape of Good Hope to the factories of the great East
India Company, of Leadenhall Street in the City of
London.
All this time I listened, saying nothing,
for it was not my father’s custom to permit
me to speak in his presence, unless I was first questioned.
I cared for this the less because I knew that as soon
as we were upstairs together my cousin would unburden
himself to me freely. And already I scented some
mystery under his guarded speech, which made me impatient
for the time when we should be alone. I listened
with an ill grace to the chapter which my father read
to the household after supper, and it seemed to me
that he had never prayed at such length and to so
little purpose. I thought it especially needless
that he should petition, for the space of full five
minutes, for the fruitfulness of our flocks, for by
this time the ewes had all dropped their lambs, and
not one of them was a weakling.
Nevertheless it was over at last,
and I quickly lighted the candle and conducted my
cousin upstairs. He was always my bedfellow on
the occasions of his visits to Brandon, and never
spared to keep me awake as long as it pleased him
to talk to me.
As soon as we were snugly settled
in bed, Rupert, as I had expected, laid aside his
reserve.
“Now, Cousin Athelstane, what
do you suppose it is that has brought me here?”
I could only shake my head in sign of pure ignorance.
“I will tell you. I have
come here to offer you a berth on board my ship, the
Fair Maid, now lying in Yarmouth river.”
My breath was fairly taken away by this announcement.
All the dreams I had cherished for so long seemed suddenly to have put on
substance, and what was yesterday a thousand miles away had come at one word
within my reach. Yet I could only stammer out
“The Fair Maid?
Is that the ship in which you went to the East Indies?
And is she bound thither again?”
Rupert nodded his head.
“She sails as soon as ever she
can be fitted out, and we are shipping the bravest
fellows in all Norfolk for our crew. A word in
your ear, cousin: we sail with letters of marque
against the Frenchmen, and it will go hard if you
or I come back with less than a thousand pounds to
our share.”
“What! Is the Fair Maid a privateer?”
I spoke in some dismay, for in those
days privateers bore a bad name. They were commissioned
only to prey upon the commerce of such countries as
we were at war with, but it was currently believed
that they did not always look too closely at the flag
of a vessel which fell in their way, and that if peace
was proclaimed while they were abroad on a cruise
they took care not to hear of it till such time as
suited their convenience. Among good men, therefore,
they were esteemed little better than pirates, and
I could understand why my cousin had been so chary
in speaking about his voyage to my father.
“You needn’t look so scared,
youngster,” he said, noting my behaviour.
“Our commission was signed by his Majesty King
George himself; and even the Frenchmen we took had
nothing to complain of beyond the loss of their property,
and occasionally their lives when we found that necessary
to our own safety.”
I felt my flesh creep, and yet the
fascination of it was stronger than the dread.
“You mean you killed them?”
I asked, gazing into his face as if I had never seen
it before.
“We had to, sometimes, lest
they should tell tales against us. Off Mauritius
we were chased more than once by a sloop of war, and
it would have gone hard with us if we had been captured.
The French there have got a devil of a governor, La
Bourdonnais, and he has vessels perpetually prowling
up and down in those seas, and as far as Pondicherry
and Chandernagore. But what do you say, cousin?
Are you man enough to join us? You have the right
stuff in you, I warrant all the Fords have.
Our great-grandfather fought at Naseby, and though
he was a scurvy Roundhead, I’ll swear he gave
a good account of himself.”
I hesitated, my whole heart on fire
to accept, and yet held back by a subtle distrust
for which I could in no way account.
“Come, boy, you have only to
slip away to-morrow night, after I have gone, and
join me privately in Yarmouth, at the sign of the
‘Three-decker.’ I will tell my worthy
uncle in the morning that I am on my way to East Dereham
and Lynn, so it will be long enough before they suspect
where you are gone. And by the time the hue and
cry reaches Yarmouth you shall be safely stowed in
the hold of the Fair Maid, or maybe in a snug
attic of the tavern, where only a bird could find
you out.”
I made little more ado, but gave my
consent, whereupon my cousin, reaching down to the
pocket of his breeches which he had cast on the foot
of the bed, drew out a golden guinea, which he pressed
into my hand.
“Here is handsel for your engagement,”
he said. And that settled, he turned over and
betook himself to sleep, leaving me to get out of bed
and extinguish the light.
But I could not sleep so easily, and
lay there tossing and turning far into the night,
while I speculated on the new life that lay before
me and all the great deeds I would do.