George Balcombe a novel |
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| 22. | CHAPTER XXII. |
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 | CHAPTER XXII. George Balcombe |  |
22. CHAPTER XXII.
Quoted, and signed to do a deed of shame.
Shakspeare.
Before we had time to express our astonishment
and delight, Montague dropped upon his
knees, and for once in his life, poured forth a sincere
thanksgiving for this unexpected deliverance.
Not regarding him, we pressed forward to Balcombe.
“My dear fellow!” said the colonel, “how came
you here?”
“It will take some time to answer that,” said he;
“but how comes that fellow here?”
“As a prisoner, on suspicion of having murdered
you.”
“It is not his fault that I am alive,” said Balcombe;
“but I suppose he must go quit of that
charge. But let us see what else we have against
him; for I don't mean to let him go out of my
fingers until I recover the parcel he robbed me of
this evening.”
“I have secured that,” said I.
“Io triumphe!” cried Balcombe. “Then all is
well, except the mortification of being overreached
by such a fellow.”
He reflected a moment, and then turning to
Montague, said, gravely,
`Mr. Montague, if you will reflect how many
persons are privy to different parts of this affair,
and how easily I, who know all, can make the whole
perfectly plain to everybody, I think you will see
the wisdom of accommodating yourself to what you
cannot help, and accepting such terms as I may
offer you. Now, sir, I tell you that I have no
wish to punish or expose you; and though you
may not understand how that can be, yet you will
believe it because I tell you so. I think, if you
will reflect on your situation, you will see that
you cannot escape, if you provoke me to extremities.
This conspiracy, and other matters of which
you are aware, you must be held to answer for,
unless you merit clemency at my hands by fair
dealing. Now, sir, go home to-night. John will
conduct you safely, and you can get to bed without
yourself, and meet me again at ten o'clock to-morrow
morning at the same place, that we may talk
this matter over.”
“To-morrow is the Sabbath,” remonstrated
Montague.
“Well said Jim Rat,” exclaimed Balcombe,
laughing, “that every man has a conscience!
Well, Mr. Montague, your scruples shall be respected.
Let Monday be the day, at the same
hour, and then we will consider the expediency of
your accompanying me and Mr. Napier to Virginia.”
“If that be all, sir,” said Montague, meekly, “I
am prepared to say now, that I will set out with
you on Monday morning.”
“Well said, Mr. Montague. That looks well.
I see, sir, that you understand what's right, Think
the matter over, then, until Monday, and then we'll
talk about it. Good-night, sir!”
Montague now slunk away under the safe conduct
of Keizer, at whom, however, he cast an anxious
and shrinking look. But he had been so thoroughly
frightened, that any distinct and manifest
danger was more tolerable than the vague apprehensions
that would have haunted his path.
As soon as he was gone, I asked Balcombe to
explain the events of the evening.
“Faith!” said he, “I think each of us has had
enough of them to his own share for one night. I
have my curiosity, too, but am tired enough to
fatigue will put me to sleep, though at another time
the sight of blood on your clothes and hands might
keep me awake. But good-night! All's well for
the present, and we will compare notes in the
morning.”
I must confess that, though weary, I was not
enough inured to such things to sleep calmly with
blood upon me, which, I had no doubt, was warm
from the heart of a human creature. Poor Scott
was lost in horror at the scenes he had witnessed,
but seemed more disposed to ruminate on them than
to tell his adventure or to ask mine. All explanation
was accordingly deferred until morning; and
I closed this eventful week by endeavouring to compose
myself to a due sense of gratitude to that good
Providence which had presided over its occurrences.
In truth, I had reason to be thankful. Just one
week before, I had been wandering through the
prairies, without chart or compass, seeking one in
whom I expected, with reason, to find a deadly
and crafty enemy. I did not know that I had a
friend within a thousand miles; and though I was
not actually destitute of money, yet my funds
amounted to little more than the means of returning
home. Home! no, I had no home to return
to. No place where my widowed mother and
sisters could find shelter except by charity. But
how suddenly all this was changed! I was all at
once surrounded by kind and efficient friends, and
to myself the noble inheritance of my grandfather.
All this had been effected by causes of the existence
of which I had not dreamed, through the instrumentality
of persons of whom I had never
heard; and yet these causes seemed to have
brought about their effects simply and naturally,
and without any strange coincidences. In the
occurrences of the night there was indeed a mystery,
but that would be explained in the morning.
In short, I found myself by a sudden turn of
affairs sweeping down the stream of cause and
consequence in the natural flow of events, with
the haven of peace and affluence opening before
me: One only subject of solicitude remained.
And would He who was thus guiding me by his
unseen hand to the possession of all the other
blessings of life, deny me that best balm of the
heart, on which the enjoyment of all besides depended?
I found myself becoming strong in Balcombe's
faith, that Providence does nothing by
halves; and I at last sunk to sleep in the comfortable
hope, that on my return to Virginia I should
find Ann still unmarried, and ready to share my
good fortune with me.
In the morning I found Balcombe quite refreshed,
and ready to exchange narratives of the events of
the night.
“There's great truth in old proverbs,” said he.
“Never permit yourself to despise an enemy.
The idea of catching that fellow in his own trap
serious as the business was, I could not refrain
from amusing myself at the thought of his discomfiture,
and endeavouring to heighten the effect of
it. When I reached the place, I saw him approaching
in a direction opposite to that where I
had reason to suppose the ambuscade would be
planted; and I observed that during our conference
he carefully maintained the same relative
position; so that, while conversing with him, my
back should be to his confederates. Now, as my
plan was to let him get possession of the casket, so
as to take it from him without involving poor
James in any breach of faith, it suited me to retain
the very position in which I saw it was his wish
to place me. I wished, too, to make him show his
hand, and was desirous to hear what he would say
after he had fairly got me into the clutches of his
myrmidons. I had little doubt that, in the exultation
of his imaginary victory, he would utter language
that would increase my power over him.
It adds to my vexation to think how the bungling
coward betrayed himself by the eager and anxious
glances he cast beyond me towards those who
were approaching from behind. And they, too—a
set of clumsy awakward villains—I heard them so
plainly, that I never should have believed it to be
Keizer and his Indians, but that I knew they were
willing to be heard. James might have heard
them, too; but he suspected nothing, and his ear
was listening only to our conversation.”
“It was not Keizer, then, and his Indians?”
said I.
“No, indeed. I had another sort of customers
to deal with. I do suppose, as John said, that
Montague had the pick and wale of all the rogues
and ruffians in the country; for a more remorseless
set of villains the devil never sent to aid one of his
allies. But to give you the scene as it occurred.
We howd'yed, as John says, and he began the conference
by saying that he had come prepared to
pay the money and hand me the bonds, but that he
first wished to see the parcel that James had for
him. It was shown, accordingly, and he held out
his hand as if to receive it. James drew back.
`Let him have it, James,' said I, carelessly. It
was given him, and he affected to look at it with
great earnestness, and began a sort of palaver
manifestly intended to gain time. It was my
game to indulge him, and never was I more
amused at any scene. Suddenly, James and I
were both seized from behind. He struggled manfully,
but was soon drawn back and secured. I
made a feint of resistance, taking care all the time
not to look behind me. I was soon secured by a
rope, fastening my arms above the elbows; and
then my assailant proceeded to tie my wrists.
This brought him before me; and you may judge
how I felt when I saw myself in the hands of a
perfect stranger, on whose face was every mark
of the fiend. He was a man of gigantic strength,
and, as I was held behind at the same time, the
was soon effectually manacled.
“`I think you are a little surprised, Mr. Balcombe,'
said Montague, with a sneer. `You
thought to palm one of your own myrmidons upon
me, sir, and to make me myself the contriver of
your plan for robbing me. I think I have turned
the tables upon you, sir, except that I don't mean
to rob you. This little parcel has my name on it,
and is my own. Having found its way to the
hands of its right owner, I think I may as well
keep it, without paying the price you wished to
exact.'
“I made no reply, for I had none to make. I
think I was never in my life caught so completely
without an answer. I was, indeed, curious to
know more; but I knew that asking was not the
way to find it out. So I held my peace, and
looked calmly at him. Not that I actually felt
calm, for I had some awkward misgivings; and
your warning of the danger of driving him to desperation
rung awfully in my ears.
“`You are wondering, sir,' said he, `what has
become of your familiar Keizer; as if you did not
know that the enemy of man'—and here the rascal
tried to look sanctimonious—`is apt to fail his
friends at a pinch. But your imp is faithful to
you, sir; and is, at this moment, proving his fidelity,
by waiting your bidding at a different place of
assignation, about two miles off, which I showed
him this morning. I watched him last night, when
opposite direction, to you; and I heard his
signal.'
“The fellow now exchanged his sneer for a
chuckling laugh, which made the malignant scowl
with which he regarded me more disgusting, and,
to say the truth, more alarming. He now addressed
himself to the ruffians, who still held us,
and said,
“`You know what to do.' Then, turning to
me, he added, `A pleasant journey to you, Mr.
Balcombe. The next time you have the feelings
of a fellow-creature at your mercy, you may remember
that a day of retribution may come.'
“Saying this, he left me. It was now nearly
dark; and as we were hurried down the gloomy
dingle, we had not travelled far before the light
left us entirely. Presently we came to Keizer's
camp, where there was a little fire, and by the light
of this the ruffians soon stripped James and me of
what little we had about us worth taking. That
was not much, and they showed symptoms of angry
disappointment which boded us no good.
“They now dragged us rudely along to the Rockhouse,
and during the whole time heard in silence
all that I could say to lead them to a negotiation
for my ransom. One of them at last spoke.
“`It is no use talking, colonel,' said he; `and I
reckon if you know my voice you'll think so too.'
“I did know the voice. It was that of one
whom I had once detected in an act of treachery,
party under my command. I had had him whipped,
and turned adrift in the wilderness to find his way
home as he could. From that time I had never
heard his ill-omened croak till then. He was a
desperate vagabond ruffian, to whom all countries
were alike.
“`What are you going to do with me, Ramsay?'
said I.
“`I guess,' replied he, `by the time you find
your way back by yourself from the Kickapoo
country, you'll know what it is to serve a poor
fellow as you served me; that is, if the Indians let
you bring your scalp away.'
“This explained their whole plan. The mouth
of the Osage river is just above us on the other
side of the Missouri. The Kickapoo country lies
on that river, three hundred miles above its mouth.
The country across the Missouri is just here quite
poor, with only a few straggling inhabitants on the
very bank. As soon as a boat enters the mouth of
the Osage, it leaves all the settlements behind; and
two hours brisk paddling would therefore place us
out of the reach of human aid. As to my being
turned loose to find my way back, I did not hope
for any such good luck. I had no doubt that Montague
merely wished to lay the scene of my murder
beyond the limits of any jurisdiction to which he
would be amenable.
“Arrived at the Rockhouse, one of the party
was despatched for a boat. The rest remained
wall as we could lie.
“We had not long lain there, when my ear was
unexpectedly cheered by Keizer's whistle giving
notice that he was near. Though my hands were
tied, it was easy to get them to my bosom, and I
immediately sounded the signal of danger. It was
answered by the warwhoop, which, though to me
the sweetest sound I ever heard, no doubt rung
fearfully in the assassins' ears, under that rocky
vault. They instantly, and I suppose instinctively,
sprung forward, so as to place themselves between
the light and the assailants, who kept along the
wall, till, guided by my whistle, they reached me.
The springing of triggers instantly made the enemy
sensible of this disadvantage, and two of them
threw themselves down the bank and fled; the
third spoke a word or two, as if to rally them,
when a rifle went off, and he fell dead. I recognised
the voice as Ramsay's, and told John who it
was.
“`Good enough for him,' said he. `And the
fellow's a stranger hereabouts; nobody knows
there is any such man, and he won't be missed.
So here goes.'
“Suiting the action to the word, he dragged the
body down the bank, and threw it into the river.
My bonds were then cut, and here I am.”
“I God!” said Keizer, “I do think, that for a
fellow that has no more sense when he is scared
than a rabbit, that Montague is about the cunningest
came across. I thought I was tolerably sharp, but
he just used me up like nothing. Only to think
that I should be fooled so, when I partly knew
where he and the colonel were to meet.”
“How did you know that?” said I.
“Why, Lord bless you, sir! I saw them the first
time, and I ought to have known they would agree
to meet at the same place again; and I never
thought of nothing else till he carried me off right
away the other course. And then he told me I
was to be there by sunset, and stay there till they
came; and so I staid and staid, and kept wondering
why they did not come. You see the colonel
had told me they were to meet as well as Montague,
so I knew there could be no mistake, unless
it was about the place, and the minute I thought
of that I saw it all. I was sure that he had carried
me and the Indians away off there to be out
of the way, and that he had got Sam Todd, that
Jones had told him about, and some of his gang, at
the other place. You may be sure I was not long
guessing what to do; so I gives the word to Snake
and Billy John, and we dashed down to the river,
and so along the bank to the Pockhouse. When
I got most there, I told the Indians what to do, and
then we crawled right to the corner of the rock,
and I sounded my whistle, and the minute we
heard the colonel's we dashed right in, and drove
them out from the wall to where we could see
them, and they could not see us. So, you see, sir,
shoot one of them; but then that fellow would not
run, and a rifle will go off sometimes.”
“I hope,” said I, “John, it was not your rifle.”
“No, sir, it wasn't mine; but it makes no odds
whose it was. As to the Todds, you may be sure
they won't say nothing about it, and I don't suppose
anybody else in the county knows there was
such a man, except the colonel and me.”
“But won't the body float, John?”
“Lord! no, sir. The Missouri never lets go a
man it gets hold of with his clothes on, and he has
made a right smart sandbar by this time.”
“How is that?” said I.
“Why, sir, a man's pockets and his clothes all
get full of sand in a minute or two, and that sinks
him down, and the minute he touches bottom the
sand gathers on him, and makes a bar.”
There was something horrible in the idea of
such a grave even for the ruffian who so well deserved
it, and it was rendered more so by the nonchalance,
and even glee, with which Keizer spoke
of it. But I was in no humour then to find fault
with his moral code.
The day was one of the happiest of my life;
and, next to Balcombe's generous zeal and cool
sagacity, I felt most indebted for my happiness
to the acuteness and unhesitating intrepidity of
Keizer. Well did Balcombe say that John could
serve him at a pinch as few others could, and as
none would.
“Well, colonel,” said Balcombe, when John was
gone, “what say you to my sharp tool now?”
“It reminds me,” said the colonel, “of a saying
that I have heard, `that this is God's world, and
that he has put nothing into it that is not necessary
to make up the complete whole.' As long as there
are such beings as Montague in the world there
should be such as Keizer.”
“And as long as there is need of men in the
world,” said Balcombe, “there is need for such
creatures as Montague to harden and sharpen their
faculties. Here's my friend William, that, but for
him, would have been now drowsing away his
existence on the banks of the Potomac, a lazy,
luxurious, country gentleman. Montague has
made a man of him; and a wiser, and better, and
more efficient man he will be for last night's work
as long as he lives.”
It was now high time to look into that mysterious
casket, on the possession of which so much
depended. On doing so, we were amused at the
simplicity and efficiency of the contrivance. It
contained nothing but the fragment of a plain gold
ring, which appeared to have been twisted off,
and a slip of paper, on which was written,
“Mammy Amy, the old housekeeper at Raby
Hall.” As soon as Balcombe read the name, he
exclaimed,
“Ah! Mary's old nurse; I remember her.
Mary was born on the estate, and this old woman's
youngest child was her foster-brother. No doubt
in the old hall, and holds the other part of
the ring as a means of identifying this.”
Having come to this conclusion, I deposited the
casket with my baggage and returned to my
friends.
| CHAPTER XXII. George Balcombe | |