menu_book Chapter 20

CHAPTER VII. I have the honour to report, quote, Is there such depravity in man as that he should injure another without benefit to himself? end quote,

Razzalas, chapter 9. He came forward, saluting with much respect, as Captain Barrington descended the last stairs into the hall. It was not likely, of course, that he would show anything else to a naval officer of Hervey's rank. But he had a hard, brutal mouth, a hard eye. Sorry to trouble you, sir, he said briskly. Your man has no doubt told you what will come about.

Yes, said Hervey, and there was no use in beating about the bush. Of this matter of the French prisoner, I understand. How did you come to connect me with it? Like this, sir, responded the sergeant. Having tracked him on Wednesday nearly as far as Stowe, oh, he was caught up as a girl, cunning young devil. We lost trace of him, owing, I fancy, to an accident to the Totten coach that evening.

He seems to have disappeared entirely after that, thrown off his woman's gear, no doubt. And we went off on a wild goose chase as far as Whitford. What thinks I then, finding it a false track, my gentleman's perhaps lying low in Stowe, or near it, all the while, waiting his chance of a boat. No doubt there's a bit of smuggling goes on there. So I brought my party back. But hardly had we got back to Stowe before a farm lad comes up to me in a hurry,

and says they've got a suspicious character at their farm, down by the mouth of the river, on the other side. Had already come there yesterday evening, when he sold his shoes for a meal, and now again, begging for another and offering to work for it. The first time they thought nothing of it. But before he came the second time, they had heard as there was a prisoner escaped from Plymouth and a party after him. So, bite what this boy says. This time they had locked him up in a barn, all ready for us to nap, thinking the reward as good as in their pockets, I reckon.

Down the river again we went, sir, and got there too late. My fine fellow had taken the alarm, broken out, made for the river, and, well, I suppose, Captain Barrington, you know best in what port of David Jones' locker he's likely to be now. For they told us at the farm that it was you, sir, in your sailing boat, as saw him drown. Trying to pick him up, I dare say, sir. Yes, said Hervey slowly. I was trying to pick him up, but I was too late.

He suddenly perceived that the door from the garden had been left open when he had brought in the drowned man not half an hour ago. He went over and shut it. Well, sir, continued the marine, as things are, if the young devil had drowned when he swam the Hemos on Tuesday, as it's thought he did, it would have saved a deal of trouble besides being a warning to the others. It has happened with an escaping prisoner before now, he added explanatorily, that his dead body has fetched up on a mud bank

and a few weeks of him laying there with only the gulls to attend to him. You don't mean to say, broken Hervey, turning round at the door in disgust, and that his body would be left there on purpose. But when you shoot a polecat or a weasel, sir, you nail him up as a warning and don't think nothing of it. I imagined we were speaking now of human beings, retorted Captain Barrington, freezingly. Oh, if you were in command of a prison ship, sir, you'd think different, saving your respect.

How stinking vermin, that's what they are. And if I had my way, I'd soon stop escaping, with a cat and nine tails. But we aren't allowed to touch him that way, though a good, honest British tar gets it as soon as look at you. I'm begging your pardon for the freedom, sir, you being a navy officer. How there are some things you're not allowed to do to the prisoners, then, inquired Hervey.

His tone evidently puzzled the marine. Oh, I don't quite rightly know what you mean, sir. A short of mutiny, we mayn't lay a finger on them. That's not to say they don't have some pretty stiff punishments among themselves. Hervey was still standing by the door, looking hard at the speaker.

Yes, this man would no doubt abide by the letter of the regulations. But what about his obedience to their spirit, when he had the cunning young devil, as he had called him, in his hands? No superior officer, and a sick and injured prisoner, against whom he was already incensed. There was opportunity for a good deal between here and Plymouth. What is it you want me to do, he asked?

Anything, to gain time to think. And the sergeant of marines replied promptly, and as it were, ingratiatingly. How if you would be so good, sir, as to give me an account of what happened down the river, and perhaps a bit of paper, an affidavit, like. And then, when we get back to Plymouth, there'll be no suggesting that we gave up, when we might have got him, if we had gone on. Because when a man's dead, he's dead, and if it's by drowning, no one can say the body must be produced, and I understand the tide was running out strong.

So if you were to write it down, sir, the captain of the Ganges could make his report to the transport office, your evidence being quite sufficient for him, and particularly as he is only a lieutenant's rank. I see, said Hervey. All unprepared, he stood face to face with the gravest decision of his life. This man, however disappointed he might be, had evidently no shadow of doubt as to his informants' veracity, and they would take his word as unquestioningly at Plymouth, and, yes, in London, too, despite the mark against his name. He stood in no immediate danger if he lied.

It was when the truth came out afterwards, for it would be almost a miracle if it did not, that his ruin would be complete. Well, he had only to say with a little forced jocularity. Oh, after all your trouble, Sergeant, you will be glad to learn that your prisoner is not drowned. And for, though he sank before my eyes, I picked him up later. That he's in the house at the moment, and that, as my duty to my king and country bids me, I invite you to go upstairs and take him.

The speech arranged rehearsed itself in Hervey's brain. He saw beforehand the cruel light it would bring into those hard, reddened eyes. No, it was physically impossible to utter it. Instead, he asked, a little hoarsely, how much of mine, of what I saw, do you want in writing? Oh, very little, sir, said the sergeant apologetically.

Just a few lines, and your signature, if you please. I'm ashamed to trouble you, but if I only take back a verbal report, I reckon that the authorities would write to you for confirmation of the story. But if I hand in a written one, you won't likely be troubled further. Oh, quite so, said Hervey dryly. Well, sit down then, and I will report the matter.

The pursuer sat down in the very chair occupied by his quarry during his successive incarnations two nights ago. And Hervey Barrington, seizing a sheet of paper from the writing table in the corner, had the honor to report on the death by drowning on the afternoon of August 13th of a French prisoner of war escaped from the Ganges prison ship at Plymouth, which death he had witnessed, and signed away his good name and his self-respect, asking himself all the time why he was doing it, and unable to find any answer, except that he could not do the other thing. Thank you kindly, sir, said the marine, taking the paper with a salute and disposing it inside his tunic. That will be quite enough to show that I've not failed in my duty.

My men are waiting outside. Good evening, sir. Feeling no desire to have his health drunk by this man, Captain Barrington abstained from giving him a shilling for the purpose, and a minute later he and his two subordinates were marching down the road in the twilight. From his doorstep, Hervey watched them go, empty-handed. No, not empty-handed. He had given them, in exchange for the boy upstairs, something very costly indeed, his signature to a lie. Coming in again, he rang the bell for Jeremy.

I've sent the escort away again, he announced curtly, with a written statement that I saw the prisoner drown. I was not disposed to give him up in his present condition. He took a turn up and down while the ex-Coxon was speechless. You realize, of course, Jeremy, what a serious step I've taken. For if it comes out in any way that I'm concealing the prisoner here, even from the most humane motives, I am ruined, utterly. Yes, sir, said Jeremy, his face taking on profounder shades of alarm. Oh, Captain Barrington, you didn't ought to have done it. Indeed you didn't.

I know that, replied his master grimly. But it is done now, and I must abide by it. We must use the greatest caution that no word of the young man's presence here leaks out before we can get rid of him. Of course, if you feel that you ought to inform against me. Oh, Captain Barrington, sir, how can he talk like that? Ejaculated the good Jeremy, deeply hurt. Me that been shipmates with you, saving your presence, sir, since... No, no, I beg your pardon, Jeremy, said Hervey quickly. Why, I ought not to have said that. Though I'm not sure whether it is not your duty to lay information all the same.

However, if it comes out, you will not incur blame, acting as you do under my orders. I must speak to Mrs. Jeremy at once, and see that she understands the situation, and keeps her mouth shut. Is she in the kitchen? No, sir. She's upstairs, a terrible took-up with a young man. I see she's forcosting him proper. A slight smile illuminated the gloom of Jeremy's features. Shall I fetch her down, sir?

No, I'll go up to her, said Hervey. I am glad to hear that she has taken to him. He will certainly need care. Up he went, and entered the spare bedroom. Not only was the fugitive ensconced in bed, contrary to orders, but the apartment had somehow taken on the aspect of a sick room already. And Mrs. Jeremy, the complete nurse, was bending over the dark head on the pillow. Now, my dear, he heard her say, do we lay quiet and go to sleep? You've no call to fidget like that, nor to cough, neither. How do you want me, sir?

But once out on the landing with her master she gave him no opportunity to tell her what it was he required her for. I've put him to bed, sir, knowing that's what you'd wish. Hervey's eyebrows went up, unnoticed, and I've taken the liberty of putting on him one of your old night-shirts. But he's very feverish and restless, sir, and won't touch the good hot milk I have for him. And yet by the body of him he's been more than half-starved lately. How what to do without Ristafes, I don't know, seeing as he can't bear a finger laid on it, and yet.

Yes, Mrs. Jeremy, interrupted Hervey, obliged to dam the stream. But I want first to speak to you on another aspect of this matter. I've got rid of the soldiers who came here after him by repeating, in writing, my assertion that I saw him drown. Oh, well, sir, returned Mrs. Jeremy easily, and I'm sure that was the best thing to do. I knew you would send them away. How the deuce you did, exclaimed Captain Barrington, staring at the prophetess.

How do you realize what a very grave step! But for the first time in his knowledge of her, Mrs. Jeremy did not accord him her whole attention while he was speaking. Oh, there's that nasty cough again, she exclaimed. Oh, excuse me, sir, I'll be out again in a moment. With that she whisked back into the room, leaving her employer almost gasping. Oh, well, he thought grimly, if I can induce her to bestow half the care in keeping his presence hidden, that she's evidently going to lavish on the young gentleman himself. I shall be fortunate.

He waited, though he hardly expected her to reappear, but reappear she did when the sound of coughing within had ceased. Oh, look here, Mrs. Jeremy, said Hervey with determination. Perhaps I've not made it clear to you that this young Frenchman is the same as he who got out from this room by the window the night before last. Oh, of course, if you say so, sir, returned Mrs. Jeremy with an air of respectful unbelief. And the person who, I'm told, climbed onto the roof. Yes, reiterated Captain Barrington, the male person who climbed onto the roof, and who, as you see, injured his wrist over the business. That person was, and is, an escaped French prisoner from the Hulks at Plymouth, and as his presence here, which I have tacitly denied, is strictly illegal, it must be kept absolutely secret, even more for my own sake than for his.

I was never a gossip, sir, replied Mrs. Jeremy with great dignity, and her master answering briefly that he was aware of it, she suggested that he should come in and have another look at the rescued man. But that Hervey declined to do, lest he should be recognized, and the Frenchman tried to climb out of the window again. He had better not enter the room, and only hoped the ex-captive would not remember the room itself. Oh, Lord, sir, replied Mrs. Jeremy, he's beyond that now. He has no idea where he is, I'm sure, beyond being thankful to be in a bed, and poor young man. How very feverish he is, and there was no point in hearing all that again.

Well, do your best for him, cut in Hervey hastily, and remember not a word about his being here. With that he retired from the interview. A cold and not particularly appetizing supper was served to him a little later by Jeremy, whose spouse was evidently too much occupied with a new arrival to provide anything hot. Hervey, however, did not grumble at this absorption. He had an absorption of his own if it came to that. For though he sat down afterwards with a book, he could not read. He meditated on what, with his eyes open, he had done that evening.

He sat there, a perjured man, a fool, almost a traitor. Yet at bottom he was quite unrepentant. He knew what he would be feeling like if he had done his duty. And somehow he might be able to get rid of the fugitive later on without exciting suspicion. He took up his book and resolutely read a page. And then Mrs. Jeremy came in.

Who if you please, sir, may Jeremy go at once for Dr. Hills? Go for Dr. Hills! exclaimed Hervey, turning round. No, certainly he may not. You don't grasp the situation yet, Mrs. Jeremy, that's evident. If that young man's presence gets known and stowy, don't you understand? I thought I'd sufficiently explained my delicate position.

Yes, sir, and I'm sure I wouldn't wish you to get into trouble, but a doctor he must have. Or a doctor he can't have, reiterated Hervey. He must do without one. And thinking that this decree sounded harsher than he intended, he added. Oh, you see, if the authorities knew that he was here, they would have him off back to the Hulks in no time. So the precaution is really for his own sake.

Mrs. Jeremy looked down and pleated her spotless apron, a sure and rare sign of distress. He'd better even go back to the Hulks, sir, than be taken out of the house in a coffin. And she sniffed. Oh, don't be absurd, Mrs. Jeremy. But she had alarmed him.

The young man has got a touch of fever, no doubt, from the exposure, but a day or two's care. Oh, it's more than that, sir, begging your pardon. It's more like what my own brother died of after three days. Begun in just the same way, with a terrible fit of shivering. It come on when you was having your supper, sir.

The whole bed shaking with it. And now he's coughing and crying out with the pain of it every now and then. And that changed already. You'd hardly know him. If you can say what to do for him without a doctor, sir, I'm sure I'd be only too thankful. But I don't know.

Hurri put down his book and went upstairs. It was quite true. De Sobliac did look most alarmingly ill, and in the short time was extraordinarily changed. He lay curled up on his side with a hot flush on one cheek, breathing very fast, and his air of lassitude had given place to one of intense disquiet.

Every now and again he was shaken by a short, dry cough, which seemed to give him great pain. Mrs. Jeremy went to him. His eyes, with a bright, strained glance, followed her as she moved. Ah, maman, je tellement mal, he said, like a sick child. Ah, maman. Mrs. Jeremy, bending compassionately over him, took his restless hand between her own and stroked it.

Oh, what does he mean, sir? he asked in a whisper. Is it anything I can do? Oh, you are doing all you can, Mrs. Jeremy, replied Hurri, biting his lip. He wants his mother. He turned away. I'm going for a doctor. Oh, but not for Dr. Hills, who attends everybody, he added mentally, as he ran down the stairs. And any doctor's presence here will have to be accounted for somehow.

Oh, I have it. I will see if I can dig Alexander Touchwood out of his shells and fossils. People hardly realize that he is a doctor, yet I believe that for all his eccentricities. He was very well thought of before he gave up his practice. If he will undertake it, nobody would think anything of his visiting here. Yes, but you see, Touchwood, I'd rather you knew nothing, for your own sake.

For the sake of my own sake, he was repeating a quarter of an hour later in that gentleman's phenomenally untidy study. Oh, heaven knows that it isn't that I fear your discretion. If you'll only come and look at him and ask no questions. Oh, my dear Barrington, said the geologist, shutting up Brander's Fossilia hantanensia. Oh, you might give me credit for some human qualities. I'm not a fossil myself, if I do collect them.

Curiosity, my dear fellow, curiosity about my neighbor's affairs lodges here. He thumped his lean breast, and just as much as in any old maid. Oh, I'll come, as you ask me. But I'll come quicker if you will tell me why I am to have my eyes blindfolded, and swear secrecy on a skull and crossbones, and write a prescription in blood.

Oh, half annoyed, Harvey laughed. Oh, I never made any such ridiculous stipulations, he replied. I only thought that if I were run in for what I'm doing. Ha, exclaimed Mr. Alexander Touchwood in a joyful tone, and he rose with alacrity from his crowded table. Oh, just what I was wanting, something to take my thoughts off the follies of Werner and the Neptuneists in general.

I should like to be run in with you, Barrington. You'd be so dignified over it. Now, out with it. Why are we likely to share a cell in Newgate? Have it your own way then, said Harvey, and gave him the particulars of the crews of the Kestrel, and what she had brought home from it. The Frenchman's previous residence under his roof, and his method of leaving the latter, he decided for the moment to suppress. Tall, bright-eyed, prematurely wrinkled, Mr. Touchwood listened with attention.

Oh, to put a name to your crime, it sounds more like body-snatching than anything else. And you say your good housekeeper is alarmed at the young man's condition. Oh, I am alarmed myself, confessed Harvey. But if you will be so extremely kind as to come and have a look at him. Oh, I can't cure with a look, you know, returned Mr. Touchwood, lifting an old coat off a heap of dusty books, and tipping some ammonites out of a depressed hat.

Oh, gad, it's touching, the faith you laymen exhibit. And what if I'd forgotten all I ever knew? De Sablier was worse than when Harvey had left, his breathing still quicker. And there was a stain, too, on the pillow. The opponent of Werner dropped his bantering manner the moment his eyes fell on him, and his face became grave. How this looks as if we had our work cut out, he observed in a low tone.

At the end of a brief examination he led Harvey to a corner of the room. Oh, I shall stay the night here, Barrington, if you'll allow me. He was purely the doctor now. Oh, is it as serious as that? asked Harvey, considerably taken aback. Oh, it is very serious indeed, my dear Barrington, and won't be a short business either.

If he pulls through, that is. Of course, he may go off the hooks within the next day or two, but we must hope for a fight. Only he doesn't look. Oh, but you can never tell. What is it? asked Harvey, unhappily.

A congestion of the lungs, and a bad case of it. It's only just beginning to, and poor fellow.