Roy Bridges

“ Bradbury to your grandfather. I am assured by Mr. Bradbury that you shall go in safety and return in safety. I fear Charles Craike—I fear for you, as I have feared these years that we have hidden here. I fear the fortune of old Edward Craike, piled up by sin and cruel wrong to others, will bring no good or happiness to you or any of his house. I fear—and yet because I hate Charles Craike, and I would punish him, and bring his sins to nothing, I’d have you go. Believing that you will avenge your father, and come again to me; believing Heaven wills it so! ”

“ I saw such treasure, as the massy plate upon the board that night, piled on red decks with bursting chests of rich apparel—dyed silks and satins, laces; gold pieces, precious gems, even as the red gems upon my grandfather’s fingers. And I heard piteous lamentation in the wind screaming from the sea; cries of the dying and tormented in its wailing round the house, and in its rumbling above the chimney stacks the roar of guns; and the wash of waters in the sweeping of the pine and fir boughs. The dark curtains of my bed were half-drawn ”

“ Nephew, this will of mine—I name it ‘will’—is no more mine, no more controllable by me than that wind blowing from the sea, and crying out about this dreary house. The actions of our lives are inevitable as storm or summer sun. My very promise to my father to do no hurt to you, while you are in this house, is no more mine than the injury I have essayed and failed to do you. ”

“ I answered him boldly, though my heart beat the devil’s tattoo within my breast, “Ay, I’ve heard every word, my friend. And say this from me to my kinsman, Charles Craike—as he has not the courage to face me here—that for all I’ve suffered and am to suffer from him here, he’ll pay me yet. If further hurt come to me; if I am put aboard Blunt’s ship, I’ve friends—not Mr. Bradbury alone—who’ll never rest till he’s laid by the heels. Ay, and tell him this from me: that for his foul lie against me and my mother, I’ll have a reckoning yet from him and his.” ”

“ Stay!”
p. 258Shuddering, pale-faced, the rogues stood eyeing him,—the old brown men peering like so many ghosts from the dark by the door, the dying candles casting only a dim light, the leaping flame reflected in the puddle of blood where Blunt had lain. My grandfather faced them still, laughing upon them. The wind came rolling up, and struck the house; the crying of the wind was as the crying of many voices; the rushing of the wind as the onrush of the sea. He ceased to laugh; staring at him, while my uncle, white to the lips and wide-eyed, watched him from the hearth, I saw him stagger. ”

“ He lifted up his shaking hand, and the red jewels seemed blood upon it, “For all my sins I’m ready for the reckoning, repenting nothing, unafraid!”
It seemed as though the very storm took up the challenge. For the wind smote upon the house with a great sound, as seas upon a cliff, or thunder from the heaven. The old house shuddered; the chimneys rumbled; the casement was blown back; the wind struck cold as death upon us. Instantly the candlelight was gone; the room was black save for the red glow upon the hearth; horror of darkness and chaotic sound were all about us. ”

“ Presently we reached the head of the stair—I have said that the house was two stories only in height; Mother Mag unlocked a door before me, and the cold air blowing in from the glassless window of the room struck on my face. The crone, standing aside for me to enter the room, leered and mumbled at me as I passed in, urged forward by the prodding of Martin’s pistol. I heard the rats scurrying over the floor before me. The wind blowing out the sacking before the window, the moonlight illumined the room,—it was big and bare as the room below it, but the rafters were high above me. ”

“ The dark hung mysterious all about us; I could feel cold draughts of air; I believed that I could hear furtive whisperings and footsteps, doors softly opening and closing, hangings waving; all this might have been the wind without. Certainly I heard Thrale chuckle behind me, as he locked the door and fixed the chain; he answered Mr. Bradbury, “As you wish, sir.”
“Strike a light, Thrale,—d’ye hear me?—a light. I’ve no mind to break a leg or my neck in the dark! A light, Thrale!” ”

“ Ay, but you knows the Stone House well as I do, Martin, and for why are you askin’?”
“For why, Mother Mag,” he snarled. “You should know for why. Not the devil, your master, could save you from—you know from whom—if he comes, and finds the young dog missing. Ay, and he knows enough to stretch that scraggy neck of yours, well as big Roger Galt’s below. Look to it, Mother Mag,—d’ye look to it!”
She cowered and mumbled to herself; he, poking his head forward to look up the chimney, brought down a shower of soot upon him, and, cursing foully, he drew back, and made for the door. ”

“ He laughed upon them trembling before him; he pointed his pistol at Thrale, and the fellow quivered like a leaf, and seemed the palsied dotard, while the master was yet strong.
“Hey, Thrale,” my grandfather mocked him, “you were bold with drink when you came in; but you never had the heart of a man. You’d slit a throat in the dark; you’d no stomach for a red deck, and you’d vomit at the smoke of powder—rogue! Hey, Barwise,—hey, your woman took you, for you’d not the heart to refuse her. Ay, you’re drunk now, and you thought you were brave, but you sweat for terror. ”

“ Predestined!”—his laughter rang out over the winds that beat against the shutters—“Will you tell all this to my father, nephew? Will you seek to blacken me to him that you may profit by it? It will not change a whit his disposition to me. He is not wholly past all love or hate, though he is near to death. And lacking my philosophy, he is not past all terror. He fears death; he fears dead men who, living, troubled him not at all. He is afraid to go down to their company—their company—the maw of the worm or the fish, the decay of all who go down into the ground or sink in the sea. ”

“ You served my grandfather, and for that I’ve no mind to punish you for what you’ve done this night. Take what’s your own—no more, and be away from this house within an hour. D’ye hear me? Go!”
Galt and the runners stood aside at a wave of Mr. Bradbury’s hand. Like a flight of carrion crows the rogues sped from the room; save only Mistress Barwise, and she, her eyes blazing, her mouth spitting curses, her hands clawing the air, as she backed from the room, wore rather the aspect of an aged cat than of a carrion crow. Pell-mell they fled, as swiftly as their withered shanks would bear them ”

“ Bradbury comes this night, with his men, and Sir Gavin’s folk, and all the gentry round. He comes to make an end here—to sweep this house clean—for me! You’ve threatened murder; you’ve robbed and broken; you’ve set every man of you his neck in reach of a rope to-night; I warn you all, for you served my grandfather, that soon, perhaps now, the house must be surrounded. You’ve escaped hanging so long, how d’ye like the prospect of swinging at the end of a rope at the end of your days? Take what you’ve looted—plate and what not?—and go! You’ll take no more. There is no treasure! ”

“ As we descended, I heard voices muttering in the hall; and saw the gleam of lanterns, and made out it might be half-a-dozen stout fellows. I saw, as we passed by them, that every man was armed with cutlass, pistol or bludgeon. Sir Gavin Masters, emerging from the doorway, cried out jovially, “Ah, John Craike! So your throat’s not cut yet, and ye’re not kidnapped. Where’s the old man, Bradbury? The devil of a time you’ve been!” ”

“ How the wind cries!”
I saw the sweat again upon him. I saw his brows wet, and his wet hands stained with the red gems. He gasped, “I’ve never thought to die! . . . Ah, Christ, that I rot in the ground and end so! . . . But to blow with the winds about the world, forever about the world—knowing no rest—no rest!”
I rose and held his glass to his lips. He drank, and for the time his courage and strength were restored to him; he gibed and mocked the crying wind, the voices that were about the house, in the house; surely now I heard sounds from below, laughter, and roaring chorus of drunken voices. ”

“ My grandfather cried out to my uncle, as he took my candle to light Mr. Bradbury from the room, “You’ll not return, Charles, unless I ring!”
Charles, eyeing him askance, nodded, and went out with Mr. Bradbury.
My grandfather, looking cunningly at me, chuckled and muttered, “Good lad! Good lad! You’re not afraid of Charles. You’ll profit by stayin’. Hey, you will! We’ll have the merriest of nights of it. Hark to the wind on the house. Like as if the crew below were knocking. Lock the door and bar it!” ”

“ Thrale interrupted swiftly, “Will you pardon me, sir?”
p. 178“Surely, Thrale.”
“Your grandfather, sir, desires a word with you. He asks you to remain here. He’ll send for you when he’s ready for you.”
I nodded. Oliver, without a word, marched out, leaving me to yawn the morning away by the fire. Thrale, clearing the table, vanished presently; I sat waiting glumly; silence had fallen over the house. The sunlight filtered through the dull panes, revealing the decay of the house, the tattered tapestries, the mouldering oak, the green-specked mirrors and the paintings dark with smoke and grime. ”

“ My captor roared out, “Hallo, there!” as we pulled up before the door; and gripping me by my collar lowered me to the ground, dropping down after me, and lugging me with him into the porch. The door opened with a clash and clatter like the iron-bound door of a prison. And blinking for the light from a lantern, I saw peering out a crone, bent nigh double, one skinny claw holding up the lantern, so that it shone upon her shrivelled livid face, her red-lidded, pale green eyes, on her grey hair wind-blown, and the blue shawl she clutched at her throat. ”

“ As I drew back, and stared at him in terror, Sir Gavin put his hand upon my shoulder and whispered, “He is mazed yet, lad; he doesn’t know you—he doesn’t understand! Ah—they’re quiet below”—and rushing out, roared down the stairs, “Is all safe there? Have you taken that rogue?”
“Ay, ay, sir—we have him safe!” they shouted up in answer; and Sir Gavin growling, “Ay, but where the devil’s that villain, Charles?” took my father’s arm and brought him with me down the stair. ”

“ I heard my uncle crying out, “Keep the door fast! No one comes in this night!” I stood confused, hoping that the knocking told the arrival of Mr. Bradbury at the house, and dreading lest Blunt and his rogues were come to take me openly and violently; still the knocking sounded over the beating wind. The old men, crowding out after my grandfather, muttered and laughed in wicked glee, that surely at last the end was come. And only the girl and Oliver and I were left in the room with the candles casting their ghostly lights upon us; and the weird shadows, dancing all about us ”

“ Oliver, though shaking hands with me, growled that he would take nothing from me; Mr. Bradbury, chuckling, avowed that as trustees and guardians, Sir Gavin Masters and he would see to it that I did not dissipate my fortune ere I attained my majority. And presently I was left with only my mother and my father by me; and we were falling to planning all that we might do with this fortune that was ours: build up the old house and its race again, and spend wisely and for the happiness of the folk about us out of the treasure which my grandfather had won in the years of his sailing. ”

“ Bart struggled in the grip of one runner, whilst the second bound his hands; Roger Galt and Sir Gavin’s men were standing guard over Martin lying against the wall, and seeking to staunch the flow of blood from his shoulder; Mr. Bradbury, pistol in hand, stood in the doorway. But Mr. Bradbury, at the sight of my father, stepped forward, crying out, “My dear Richard! My dear sir! Alive and well,—that’s brave!” ”

“ I’ve heard the voices growing louder. D’ye think old Edward lies awake, and listens and fears? He’s near to death. He’s turned eighty years. And all the old rogues about him know him breaking and cease to fear him. He was their captain once by the strength and the will of him. He would have died at their hands but for his strength and will, and never have brought his ship and his treasure home. He’s breaking. What’s to be the end, cousin?”—he laughed savagely to himself. “D’ye think me mad, John Craike?” ”

“ The baying of the hound sounded up to us. But, as we paused and drew together, Sir Gavin Masters, pointing with his whip, growled out, “They’re here—some of the rogues. See the horses feeding down by the wall there”—and suddenly bellowing with triumph, “Ay, and by God, Charles Craike himself is here; that’s my nag with the saddle on its back—inside the wall!”
Mr. Bradbury cried out sharply, “Come down, Sir Gavin! Come down! We dare not wait! What may be done within?”—and rode off apace.
Sir Gavin, following with the rest of us, gasped, “But what of Roger Galt? What’s come to the fellow?” ”

“ I was swinging now down the rope; at the end of the length I was little below the gutter. At the alarm I lost my grip, and fell—by some chance into a pile of bales of smuggled stuffs that they had left lying under the wall; though the breath was knocked out of my body, and I lay there gasping an instant, I was unhurt. I started up; dropped from the bales on to the cobbles, and was staggering off; but, coming in a rush from the house, the rogues were upon me. ”

“ Ay, see the hedge of thorns grows all about the castle! Time stands still! Nay, ah nay! I’d picture, John, the garden in the days when the second Charles was King of England. Why, I have looked from my window of a summer night, and I have seen the ghosts walk in the garden, as it was, and I have known the beauty and the colour and the laughter of this garden and this house, as once they were. I have thought of the beauty of Craike House restored, the greatness of our race—ah me! Here am I, penniless son of—Mr. Edward Craike; penniless parent of—Oliver! ”

“ I unlocked the press beside him, and taking out a bloated green bottle—much as the bottle at Mother Mag’s—poured some spirit into a glass; and his hands now shaking, so that he must have spilt the drink, I held it to his lips, until he swallowed it down, choking and coughing. Whatever the stuff, it lent him speedy strength and colour. He sat blinking at me with those evil old eyes of his. ”