Period, about 1820.
Who goes there?
The relief.
The word?
London.
The countersign?
Westminster Abbey.
Cold morning, corporal.
Moderate; I've been shivering this half hour. Going with the relief is no relief to me.
You must take care, corporal; you are down, I should think, some few times in daddy Bland's black book.
Confound the fellow! he is the terror of the whole garrison: he is as inflexible a disciplinarian as Frederick the Great.
The lieutenant, with all his oddities, deserves to be respected by military men: he has seen much service, and is brave to a fault.
I wish he was a coward to a fault, he'd run away from mine, perhaps. But what an old gig it is!—with a face like a leg of pork after an hour's roasting, a head as frosty as Mount St. Bernard, and a tail like a roasting pig!—he can't speak without giving the word of command, and his “Attention” may be heard all over the castle. I tell you, Serjeant Brill, that old daddy Bland is—
Attention!
Ready, lads; salute the old gentleman as the commanding officer wishes.
Attention!
Last night, your honour. I am going to—
Keep awake, of course: no good soldier goes to bed above once a week. In fact, I don't know that a soldier has any business to sleep at all; and if he does, it should be like geese, on one leg, with his chin on the muzzle of his musket.
But if it should go off, your honour, where would his chin be?
Pooh! save him the trouble of shaving. Soldiers mustn't be particular. What officers were out last night when the gates were shut?
Two, your honour.
Names, rank, and regiment?
Captain Frederick Gay, Rifle Corps; Lieutenant Edgecombe, Fifty-eighth Foot.
Nice boys, nice boys; but I'll report them to the commandant.
Two officers are entering the castle, your honour.
These are the delinquents. Tell the gentlemen that I wish to see them, corporal.
Yes, your honour.
Now to read these sparks a lesson on military duty. As to that Rifle captain,
the Gay Green as they call him, he is a devil incarnate. Oh, here they come.
Come along, Charles; the major's party have not seen us yet. All's right,
and now I defy the devil and—
Why name the devil and our worthy artillery senior in the same breath, eh?
Or at the devil, eh? Yes, gentlemen, old daddy Bland is here; and now I ask, with all due respect to the Fifty-eighth and Rifle Corps, what the devil you do here, gentlemen?
Why, sir, my friend Charles and myself, we have been at our military studies all night—storming forts—taking them —attacking in column—taking possession of the breastworks— forcing a breach—plundering the town—and retreating with our brows bound with laurel.
What! retreating, and our brows bound with laurel! Why who the devil heard of laurels gained in a retreat?
All who have the honour of calling themselves the countrymen of Sir John Moore.
Eh? Oh, yes—oh, yes; Sir John Moore, yes. Stop, let me take off my hat.
All right, Charles.
Let me tell you, gentlemen, that Sir John Moore didn't go gallanting of a night, in despite of garrison orders, as you do. So don't think I'm to be palavered over. No, no; I never, gentlemen, was guilty of a breach of discipline in my life, and I am now seventy-five.
What, Mr. Bland?
Why, Charles, what did you suppose the lieutenant's age?
Fifty-three I should have sworn in any company in Europe.
Really! Why you are certainly nearer to the truth than me. I put Mr. Bland down at six-and-forty, and, in fact, told Lady Mary Meriville so last week; and she said she had no idea, from his appearance, that he had been anything near so old.
Did she though, eh? Ha, ha, ha! Well, I don't know. I was born in the Artillery Corps, and regimental books are frequently lost, and I never was registered otherwise; but I—I—might not be so old.
You can't, my dear sir; it don't stand to reason!
Let anybody look at Mr. Bland this morning!
Why, yes, boys, I think this is one of my good-looking days. Go on, gentlemen, go on.
Come, Charles; the lieutenant says we are to go on. Come to our rooms.
My dear sir, I—
Really, upon my word, Charles, you are unpardonable. Had you brought the book with you, it would have cleared us in Mr. Bland's opinion, which, I may truly say, I value more than any man's in the service.
What book, eh? what book?
What the devil is he at now?
Why, a book I had been anxiously waiting for during the whole night—a history
of the taking of Montreal, wherein the names of Lieutenant Bland and the
Engineers are made such honourable mention of—Charles and I pored over it with
delight—with enthusiasm—the just tribute of a grateful country to a venerated
friend so gallant and true.
Gentlemen—
Why, Mr. Bland, I gave it to the lieutenant here to bring. He forgot it, and I was bewailing my disappointment when we had the honour of meeting you.
Well, well; but don't stay out again. Go to your
Oh, how I should like to cut off his pigtail!
How, sir—
Zounds! how could you be so imprudent!
Cut off my pigtail! what for, sir, what for?
To preserve it as a relic—as a thing the enemy never saw yet.
Gentlemen, the same to you and all your family.
Plague take that vivacity of yours! I say, Fred.
Well, what do you say?
That it's high time to reform.
It is; when are you going to begin?
This very day.
Bravo! so will I; and at night—
Well, what at night?
Why, as we say abroad, we'll take care of that when the battle's over.
Allons, mon ami, allons!
Well, now, really, as I am a gentlewoman and mother of a good girl, I must put an end to the visits of that young English officer. I begin to repent that I ever allowed him a footing here. My nephew will be home from England soon, and I'll ask his advice upon the subject; but for this Lieutenant Edgecombe—
My dear mother, what about Lieutenant Edgecombe? Has he sent any letter here this morning, or sent to inquire after my health by the orderly?
Really, Marie, you ought to be more orderly. Lieutenant Edgecombe is a good young man.
Oh, you know that mother!
And a nice young man—
And I know that, mother!
I'll not have him come here any more.
Did ever any one hear the like? Because he's a good young man, and a nice young man, you won't have him call here any more!
I'll tell you, child: you may fall in love with him, and he with you. Never fall in love with a nice young man; it's ruin, either one way or the other. Your nice young fellows give themselves such airs after marriage, forsooth; they soon let a wife find she is a wife. You marry as ugly a man as you can meet with!
I am much obliged to you, but I'd much rather not; and I believe that most females would be of my opinion, not but what I would prefer sense to complexion, and the flashing eye of genius to the arched forehead and studied curl of affectation.
Your uncle was a sort of elegant Æsop—a large head, small body, little legs, and giant's feet; he'd lost one eye, and squinted with the other. He was a duck of a man. You don't meet every day with such a being.
Heaven forbid! Your felicity must have been perfect! No jealous whims, I dare say, now?
No; the sweet pattern of conjugal fidelity we were. He never said a word or a civil thing to any woman during the whole of his connubial existence. But our neighbour, Dumouchard, the wealthy merchant, comes.
Madame, I am yours. Mam'selle Marie, I am your slave ever.
Monsieur Dumouchard, I am the friend of freedom. I would have no slavery, and therefore gladly break your chains and those of any other captive I have unwittingly held in durance.
That's well said, Marie, I remember when Les Rouge Voleurs, or as our English friends called them, the Red Robbers were seen here—
Their designs were defeated; though but a boy I remember something of the story.
They were taken and executed, but nothing could prevail on them to impart the secret of their retreat.
Yes, yes; I've heard the tale reported—a story something like the Arabian Nights' Tales, and about as absurd; the fact is, they had no retreat, and were, doubtless a few deserters from the foreign mercenaries.
But I tell you some of them are seen now.
Tush! these scarlet offenders were all hung a hundred years since.
Well, I often take a melancholy stroll of a moonlight night on the cliffs, without encountering any scarlet ghost. Les Rouge Voleurs have no terrors for me.
Well said, sweet Marie, but though I fear not apparitions, yet would I advise you not to ramble near the South Cliff after sunset.
Pray, why not?
Ay, Mr. Dumouchard, why not?
Plague on my tongue.
Oh; that's an excellent man.
I don't admire such excellence; and as for the South Cliff, I'll go there to night despite his advice as he calls it; no soldiers are suffered out of barracks after eight o'clock.
Not if old Daddy Bland knows it. Ladies, good morrow—the commandant and officers of the fifty eighth give a ball at Elizabeth Castle to-morrow night; truly it will lack brilliance if madame and yourself deny your company.
Captain, you flatter us; I will most certainly add my mite of beauty to the rest—as to Marie, she would rather walk on the South Cliffs, ha, ha! Il penseroso.
The cliff! the haunted cliff! not a man in the garrison would be placed there on guard; it inspires more terror than the dungeon of La Roque Tower; so when mam'selle grows melancholy, she walks on the haunted cliffs to raise her spirits! Ha, ha, ha! apropos, a letter from Edgecombe—a billet-doux, madame, the Rifle Corps are daring fellows; you see I give mam'selle a letter under the very nose of her aunt.
Oh, Captain Gay, you shall not laugh me out of my solitary rambles. I'll engage to frighten the officer of the Grand Guard and all the Island Dragoons.
A wager! If you win,
Agreed. I know who the officer of the Grand Round will be.
So do I. Raise what terrible report you will, to-day, my life that the officer of the guard revenges himself upon your lips. Au revoir, ladies; Mam'selle, the wager's mine. The officer of the Grand Round frightened! and by a white petticoat! Belona forbid! Au revoir, ladies.
Bless my soul, I forgot to tell the captain of my nephew's expected arrival. Dear me; Captain, Captain Gay; bless me how could I be so foolish.
Edgecombe writes me word that he is the officer of the guard to-day, and to-night leads the Grand Round; in an hour he will be at the South Cliff, so I'll put my bonnet on and meet him there. Ha, ha, ha! He is romantic, so am I; the island superstition will aid me, and the ghost of the South Cliff hereafter shall be a subject of merriment, not of terror.
This way, sir—best inn in St. Hiliers; welcome to the island, sir.
None of your Highlands, my Caledonian; you want to draw me out for a Scot. I never give a chance away.
Anything else, sir?
No, nor anything else if I could help it; in one word, my man, you see before you a young mysterious stranger. I have a tale, but don't mention a word of it behind my back— I am a refugee!
A what?
A refugee; a word compounded from refuse and refulgent, verbum sat—Horace! a literati.
I don't know what that is, either.
Do you know Tom Styles?
No, sir.
Nor Jack Nokes?
No, sir.
You are a pump—a Publius Simplicus, as the Romans termed it. In me you behold William Stickers, a large contributor to the “Halfpenny Humbug,” one of the most flourishing publications of the day; a picture in front and three pages of printing arter—the paper was worth the money.
Did it sell well, sir?
Yes, when the people bought it; otherwise rather dull; a little bothered for matter, we were on Friday—old Hardfeature, the smith, had been to see his friends in Essex for a week—charming opportunity, I wrote a flaming account of his murder—public curiosity was excited—the “Halfpenny Humbug” sold beautifully—unfortunately, the murdered man came back alive—the “Humbug” was found out—the smith didn't like to lose his livelihood.
I dare say, sir—
He brought an action against us, and Tom Styles advised me to fly the country—I set off for London—the best way to get out of the country is to go to London you know; at the last moment, Tom pressed my hand and said, “Bill Stickers, take care of yourself;” and bless your soul, when I got up to London there was “Bill Stickers beware,” put up at the corner of every street; “No Bill Stickers allowed here,” at another place; “Bill Stickers will be prosecuted,” at a third.
Is it possible?
Fact. A black board with white letters on it; “Bill Stickers Beware.” The reward that was offered for Charles II. was a fool to it, so I followed King Charles' plan and fled to Jersey, because they are friendly foreigners here.
Ay! I see, sir; it's a libel!
Damn his familiarity! I, Mr. Wm. Stickers, tell him the story of my distresses, and he turns round to me and says, “it's a lie, Bill.”
You mistake, sir, you will find that you will be treated with kindness here
Go in, then, and say that a young stranger of interesting appearance wishes to repose his fragile frame: I'm tempus fuget, that is, I am obliged to fudge it for a time.
I shall, sir—you're safe—depend upon our honour.
If it's in making out the bill, I am safe, to be done; sorry I said anything now; I never like to give a chance away; they will try to take advantage of my misfortunes; that's the way all the world over.
Who have we here? he don't look like an islander, nor anything to denote the soldier in his appearance. Servant, sir, has the boat arrived in from the packet?
One of the government officers; they are arter me I see—I see—mum! silence!
must keep it secret.
What, sunk, and port so near?
Bless your soul, many sink when port is near them.
And did everybody perish?
Every devil as dead as Deborah.
How do you know?
I am one of the unfortunate individuals.
Then you are dead!
No! I was aqua vitæ, that is, I was alive in the water! I swam ashore,
after seeing the end of the unfortunate Bill Stickers.
Damn Bill Stickers, a complete nuisance. Did you see an interesting young man come over in the boat?
You mean myself.
Go to the devil.
I stalled him off, however. It's my belief that the “Halfpenny Humbug” has been translated into the Jersey tongue.
Your apartment, and strict secrecy await you.
Come, I shall be safe here, till the murder of old Hardfeature has blown over. As Shakspeare says “Time was that when the brains were out the man would die;” and yet, old Hardfeature lives—lives to throw discredit on the prettiest murder that ever was committed, to paper.
I heard the gentleman say something about murder; John, the waiter, says he's very mysterious; I shall watch my gentleman, and give notice to the officers; why shouldn't I get the reward as well as another?
Let me prevail upon you, my beloved Marie, to become mine within this week at furthest, and thus ensure your lover's happiness for ever.
Not so, Edgecombe; hottest love soonest cools, and sudden marriages are too often the sureties of woe to come; time enough to think of marrying when, after years of service, crowned with honours and scars, you set yourself down, a fat, gouty general, and want a kind, considerate helpmate to smooth your pillow and mix your gruel for you, ha! ha!
Oh, misericordia! what a picture of matrimonial felicity have you drawn! you certainly put a very odd face on the affair.
And yet as Shakespear says “to this complexion must you come at last;” you are the officer of the Round tonight, and visit all the posts, do you not? 'tis a dangerous service.
Not so; the way from station to station is perhaps dark, and may appear dangerous; but mounted on an island horse, and attended by native dragoons, there is nothing to fear.
I'll alarm you yet, though.
Well, my dear Marie, and what then? I shall become your husband—farewell dear maid.
Till to-morrow, dear friend, farewell.
Sweet girl, how completely have you made my heart your own; but I must to the barracks—good heavens, did I not see a man's hand move yonder heather bush—some one is beneath—smugglers no doubt.
I tell you, Langard, I'll hear no more, the division is unjust, and I'll not yield my right.
Hush! we are lost!
Do I behold Monsieur Dumouchard?
You do; but, no parley, did you observe from whence we came?
Die! fool, die!
Murder! Villains! Murder!
'Sdeath! she returns! Quick, to the retreat! She's here!
Oh, the cry of murder! Charles, Charles! he's dead! The blood flows from his
breast; his eye is glazed. He tries in vain to speak; he points to the rock. By
that motion he urges me to call the relief. Murder! Soldiers! Ho! Guards!
guards!
Quick, then; we have a moment, and but a moment.
Help! This way, soldiers! Hasten! Mercy! mercy! Save him!
Now, ma'mselle, where is my friend?—where are the villains?
I left him here. From afar I saw him fall. Dark forms stood around him. I saw him bleed. The demons of the deep have snatched him from us!
My brain—my brain is maddening! I—I—saw him murdered! I—I—
This is a very shocking affair, but I can't believe it. I sent Edgecombe to La Roque Tower this morning, deputing Lacy, in his room, at the castle. Ma'mselle Marie must have been mistaken. I've sent off a dozen dragoons in several directions. Blood near the spot, but no visible marks of a struggle! It can't be. A man never went out of the world without a struggle.
No, I am sure I've had a struggle all my lifetime, and I am only a poor corporal, five feet wanting an inch, and I mustn't expect to get any higher.
Don't prate, fellow; you may go into that tavern.
Thank your honour. Shall I order anything for you at the same time?
Scoundrel! you know I never take anything. My only beverage is vinegar and water—the best drink in the world for a soldier!
Ah, a poor fellow like me can't afford the best, so I put up with humble gin and water—it suits my constitution very well.
Varlet! you have been allowed liberty of tongue till you forget yourself. Attention! Go and ask if they have seen Mr. Edgecombe to-day. He calls here sometimes for intelligence from Weymouth.
Here, in the very nick, comes Betty Broom, the chambermaid—the Mrs. Flowers in perspective.
Pshaw!
When we are on the march, she will be the flower of the baggage waggon. I am going to be made the regimental schoolmaster, and she will get the company's washing; so that, between learning and lathering, we will make something out, and I hope there will be soon a number of little Flowers beautifully blooming around us.
Zounds! is the fellow mad?
Betty, my love, a gentleman has been murdered on the South Cliff; have you seen him pass this way since?
Oh dear, no, Mr. Flowers. If I had seen a dead man walking about here, I should have flopped off in a fit directly; you don't know how tender-hearted I am! Oh, my little stars! Murdered? I could tell you something!
What the devil is it? Don't stand pouting there, but out with it.
Betty, my love, don't talk, but tell us all you know!
Well, then, as I am a virtuous young woman standing here, there's a murderer in our house!
What?
It thickens, as the woman said when she put oatmeal into the porridge.
Where is this man?
Up stairs in a room by himself; he's so mysterious, and won't see anybody, and eats and drinks such a sight! Oh, how he does eat and drink!
Right. He thinks his time is short, so he will make the most of it.
Seize him, and bring him here.
Yes, your honour. Left face! Betty, lead the van.
I never see'd a van in all my life, Mr. Flowers, though they tell me there's lots of them over the water.
Betty, show the way to the travellers' room. March! soldiers—wipe your shoes; my sweet Broom has been brushing down the stairs.
That fellow will kill me; the players have turned his brain. I'll have no more of it. Who can this fellow be?
Here the offender is, your honour.
Now, you villain! I see, I see, murder is in your brow.
If it hadn't been printed on paper, I wouldn't have minded, bless you.
What could prompt you to this horrid deed?
My poverty, but not my will, consented.
What! you robbed him first, I suppose, then—
That was no use; he never had more than five farthings in his pocket at any time—just the price of half a pint.
Why, you scoundrel, to talk of my friend in such a manner! You confess the murder?
I do; but there were others implicated too. I was an inveigled innocent.
Who were the others?
Jack Nokes and Tom Styles.
Horrid villains! let search be made for them.
But, bless your soul, he's alive!
Where?
In the blacksmith's shop.
Let it be searched. Tell me, villain, how was it contrived—
Why, Jack Nokes said it would be the greatest fun in the world if we could kill him!
Fun! you infernal rascal?
Only for a week, that was all!
Who the devil ever heard of a man being killed for a week? And did you do this in cold blood?
No, we got rather warm over it, cause Jack Nokes wanted to kill him with a knife, and I would have him knocked on the head!
My flesh crawls to hear the villain! Well—
So we made him get very drunk at a pothouse near town.
Drunk at a pothouse, instead of being on his guard!
Yes, but a man's off his guard when he gets drunk. Then we got him into a green lane, and threw him into a ditch, and smothered him; and he was found next morning by a pedlar.
What the devil am I to make of this?
I don't know; we made a good deal of it; we sold a good many—
Bodies, I suppose he means.
About eight months. Great pity we were stopped; we had two or three subjects ready.
Subjects! Yes, that's the name surgeons give them. What did you get for them?
A ha'penny apiece.
What?
A ha'penny! and a liberal allowance to those who took a good many.
Well, of all the horrid villains I ever met in my life, or heard of, you are the worst. You murder your fellow-creatures at a halfpenny apiece! What do you call such an affair?
Humbug!
Why, you infernal—I'll—I'll—you shall swing in two hours from this. Confine that rascal immediately, and put him into irons. He shall be soon taken to Gallows Hill.
I know you are using me gallows ill. Have you no pity for the wretched Bill Stickers?
No, I hate them all, and the body-snatchers. Away with him!
Think of my youth.
Away!
Oh, Stickers! Stickers!
What!—you would stick us! but I'll take care you stick no more. It's
my belief that you stick at nothing.
Why the plague don't Edgecombe arrive? Here have I wasted these three hours
waiting for him. Capital plan
Halt! Who goes there?
Nobody.
Who are you?
Nobody.
Who are you waiting for?
Nobody.
Harkye, Mr. Nobody, we don't suffer anybody to answer in this manner. What's the word?
Humbug!
This fellow knows something of the affair, then. You must give an account of yourself at the guard-room.
Zounds! this will be an awkward affair. Here, my good fellow, here's half-a-crown; it's all right.
Don't want money. What's your name?
Oh, zounds! don't bother me now. My name? Why, Jack Nokes—Tom Styles—any thing you like.
Jack Nokes!
Yes, that's my name; my father was a pig-killer.
And you are a man-killer! I arrest you for murder!
The devil you do! This is a trick of Edgecombe's— diamond cut diamond. Ha, ha! Who told you so?
Your friend.
I know it; it's all right. You are a good lad; here's a guinea for you. Arrest me for murder! Ha, ha, ha!
Of Lieutenant Edgecombe, on the South Cliff.
This is some hoax. Fun is everything with me. I'll go into it if I sink up to my neck. Now, slouch hat—pull up collar—march! I'll do them yet, by all my hopes of a majority.
How chill and cold blows the wind, but colder still
At length all is safe; the military have left, and the girl, like most other girls, weary of crying for her lover, has gone to seek a new one.
I hope, Dumouchard, you will never allow your temper to risk our concealment
again. I am sorry that I struck at Edgecombe; but necessitas non habet
legem, as our school-book says.
I am not sorry, for I feel a deep and dark revenge.
Dumouchard, when first Les Rouge Voleurs formed the band, all private feeling was to have been abolished; our object was to rob such persons as were supposed to have wealth, and share the plunder equally; except in defence, blood was never to be split; if, by any negligence, one of the band got traced, he was to destroy himself sooner than the secret should be discovered. Am I not correct?
You are the first in fault, Dumouchard.
And within the hour I'll answer it to any one that dares condemn me. But time presses, and we may not await the arrival of the guard in their round. The captain and supercargo of the Smiling Fanny, well laden with silver and jewels, will cross the sands by midnight. Two men only will accompany them; their wealth to-morrow must enrich the treasure of Les Rouge Voleurs.
But no blood, captain—no blood, in heaven's name!
Unless hell demands it, and then we must perform a master's bidding. Come on.
I walks out of one room into another, 'cause there's only two. Oh, Bill, Bill, to be taken up after a term of three months; what an interest I feel, principally for myself, a nice young man like me, in the flower of my days, as I may say, to be hung, and all for scribbling.
There's your friend! prepare, for your time is short.
How remarkably short that man speaks.
Upon my word, very pleasant! Put into prison, and now they want to hang me! but, “no further, gentle friend,” as Rowe says; I shall certainly discover myself presently; and yet I am afraid, for fear young Edgecombe should have the laugh; I'll converse with my fellow-prisoner, an officer, no doubt; like myself, in plain clothes—some regimental error, I dare say; breach of orders—the old story. Good evening, sir.
I am glad it is to you. It's a remarkably bad one to me.
Oh! some trifle, no doubt, like myself, though I am afraid I shall be suspended for a time.
That's exactly my case, sir.
Oh, it's only for a few days.
Bless your soul, half an hour will do my business.
Pooh! you think of it too deeply. I presume you are in the service.
No! I never was in service in all my life; I've always kept good company.
What the devil does he mean? Of course you are an officer.
An officer! eh? what? I can't speak, I've got such a pain in my gullet.
Poor gentleman, and he seems quite mortified; I don't remember seeing him
before; let me see what regiments are in the island; the third, ay, the Old
Buffs.
The Old Buffs! now that's damned impudent.
Queer way of expressing himself.
I beg leave to say I don't wish to have any more conversation with you, sir, I am a person of strict morality.
Why, what have you been doing?
Nothing.
What are they going to do with you?
Hang me.
Pooh! they can't do it.
So the man said when they put him into the pillory, but it's no use saying they can't do it when the rope is round my neck, and squeaks the word.
Prisoner, the detachment waits.
Let them wait; I am in no hurry.
Nor I, neither.
Good heavens! Gay, why are you here? Edgecombe has been murdered, and you are wanted to take the Grand Round.
Edgecombe murdered? Is it then true? And I have been acting the buffoon this long. Oh, Edgecombe, my friend! Who has murdered him?
That man.
Don't believe a word that anybody says against me. I am a man more sinned against than sinning.
Wretch! you shall attend us to the spot where the murder has been committed.
His body can't be found. Where is it, villain?
Bless your soul and body, I don't know anything about anybody's body.
The villian shall be taken with us, and if my unhappy friend cannot be found, I'll immolate that scoundrel on the spot.
You are a rogue.
No, I am only a refugee.
Away!
Away! they say that wherever there's a will there's way—now, I have a will; but I'll be hanged if there's any getting away.
He is not here. What heaps of treasure have I seen! yet not the treasure
dear to me.
Here—here—beloved Edgecombe! my feeble efforts cannot loose the door; join thy strength to mine and freedom yet is yours.
Alas, I cannot! I am fettered by a galling chain, and cannot rise; my wound, too, forbids the slightest exertion, and I am torn, too, by fears for thee. I die—I die!
Eternal mercies defend me! some one is in the interior, and has heard me.
Ye clamorous varlets, untowardly knaves, have ye no better employment than to batter doors? Ay, drunk, I guess. Les Rouge Voleurs are sadly degenerated since I was a virgin. No one to be seen. What's this? Some treachery?
'Tis a woman! She may have pity! I'll brave the worst.
Let's see to the prisoner's door. Ah, by St. Helier! a stranger—a girl too. What wouldst thou?
Pity.
Pity! 'tis so long since I heard that word, that I forget what it means. What brought you hither?
Love.
Love! Humph! it is so long since I heard that word, that I almost forget what that means too. Seek ye one of the Red?
Red! ay, red with blood—
He thou lovest liest there enthralled?
He does—he does!
To save his life you came, and to give him freedom would be happiness—
Beyond all power to describe.
Thou wouldst marry him, and in time the blessing of thy dear children would charm thine ear, as their lisping tongues wished him and thee a sweet good night, and thou wouldst hope a sweet good morrow; and thus each night and day be happier still for thee—
Heaven's benisons being ours.
Mark me, maiden. When I first entered here, my thoughts were as thine; a villain bandit marred them all. Near fifty years I have lived with the snake and toad, and, worst of all, with the refuse of mankind, till they poisoned all good feelings; and now I gloat on misery—I joy to see others suffer!
You cannot be that monster!
I am.
My good mother, be to us a friend, and we will take you from this horrid place, and your remaining days may yet be blessed with peace and comfort.
Thou shalt have thy wish.
Beloved Charles—
This is bliss, indeed. By a violent effort I have broke my chain, and my strength, though feeble, yet may serve me to escape.
But the woman yonder—or rather fiend in female form—how to pass her?
Stratagem here must serve our turn.
No more of this! Come forth, maiden, or both shall be immured.
Yet hold. A drunken bandit reposes in the corner of my dungeon, I would be rid of the intruder.
Some sottish villain that heeds not our captain's orders; he shall be punished. Let me see him, that I may report him anon, and be made joyful by the villain's cries!
She is safe! Away, my beloved Marie, away!
Liberty and safety now are ours!
All's safe now, and in a few moments the relief will pass. Mark me, lads, there is much to be done to-night. The merchant, Piondestere, passes the sands, on his way to his country house. I know him to bear about his person property of immense value, and papers, of which the early use may be the means of obtaining more. He must be met, his body buried in the sands, and his wealth in this cave within an hour.
'Twill be a service of danger; the sands are much frequented about this time.
Yet we may not drive it later. Listen, comrades. Our present dress was originally adopted by our fathers in crime to deceive the unwary, by a close resemblance to the military; I would improve upon it. Some time since, from a fear-struck sutler, was taken a quantity of Grenadier caps, and great coats of the Fifty-eighth; of muskets we have plenty. Let a dozen men attire themselves thus, and with Beinvelle at their head, you will appear a relief or picket, and pass on until you meet your victim. Your force will then enable you to accomplish your task with ease.
Excellent! the caps and cloaks there, quick!
Thank heaven, he is safe!
Now, Paul, resume your station.
Come, captain, let us carouse awhile; the toil of the day is over, and wine will revive us.
Agreed. First, to ascertain if the prisoner be safe.
That's easily done.
All's right. That's exactly what he said two hours ago. What a thing it is
that some people can never make themselves comfortable! He will die of his
wounds to-morrow, and he is rather sore about it, I suppose.
Come, a merry island ditty, to pass the time away till the return of the Fifty-eighth. Ha, ha!
Hollo!
What's the matter?
Somebody put their foot on the pit of my stomach!
Pooh, pooh! you've got the cramp, that's all. Be quiet, and don't interrupt our singing.
Hollo! I saw a petticoat close to my eyes; I'll swear it whisked across my nose.
The devil—
No, he only said it was a petticoat, but I believe that almost as bad.
I see a white dress there. Quick! pursue her through the gallery of the rock! quick!
Mercy, Dumouchard! mercy, I entreat!
How's this, Ma'mselle Marie? There's been a goodly watch kept here. Well, lady, since you have intruded yourself here, here you shall remain—not as a prisoner, but as the favoured wife of Dumouchard!
Never, monster, while I have life!
And for your English officer, whom you doubtless came in quest of, you shall see him for the last time. Let him be brought before her face.
Hollo! here's another petticoat.
Batilda! Sorceress, how came you here?
Hollo, my little puss—not stole away yet. I'll hold you fast. Lucky our friends were so near.
Bienville, why so soon returned?
Heavens! Edgecombe is still with them. He has had no opportunity then of eluding their vigilance.
How came you here?
I was on my way to Gallows Hill—professionally; I believe I am to have a situation there. They promised me one; I haven't asked them about it since; for I hate to be a hanger on. And now I believe I am going on a shooting party.
A shooting party?
A shooting party—yes, a shooting party! Military men very often go on a shooting party.
You shall suffer death immediately. For you, ma'mselle—your sex protects you.
I wish my sex would protect me; instead of which, they seem determined to provide me with a sexton.
Silence, fool! No, Marie—you have placed yourself into my hands, and no power can save you.
What mean you?
Disgusted with your cruelties and bloodshed, I resolved upon betraying you into the hands of justice; when leaving this place we encountered the soldiery, who have already consigned your disguised ruffians to their dungeons, and then returned with me to accomplish your destruction.
Still we may be in time. Quick, comrades—to your arms! First let's sacrifice this traitor to our just vengeance.
Who dare dispute my order?
Captain Gay, Daddy Bland, and the rest of the brave Fifty-eighth.
And here we are to warm your jackets, my precious Rouge Voleurs.
R. means right, L. left, C. centre, R. C. right of centre, L. C. left of centre, D. F. door in flat of seene running across the back of the stage, C. D. F. Centre door in flat, R. D. F. right door in flat, L. D. F. left door in flat, R. D. right door, L. D. Left door, 2 E. second entrance, U. E. upper entrance, C. D. centre door.