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Jacques Hamon; or, Sir Philip's Private Messenger, etc

Mary Emily Ropes · 1896 · Scanned text

44,265 words · about 3 h 6 min to read

Period artwork: Interior of the Bodleian Library, 1845
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Licence: PDM · British Library Digitised Books dataset db14 (doi 10.21250/db14) marks the OCR texts CC Public Domain Mark 1.0 (c. 1510-c. 1900 publications); text+metadata JSONL release doi 10.23636/r7w6-zy15 is CC0 1.0. Public Domain Mark is a status label, not a new copyright licence. · Digitised by the British Library (with Microsoft). Text: British Library Digitised Books, CC Public Domain Mark 1.0.

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About this book

Author
Mary Emily Ropes
Language
English
Published
1896
Length
44,265 words · about 3 h 6 min
Sections
12 reader sections
Text
Scanned text, read from page scans by OCR; may contain errors
Rights
Public Domain Mark 1.0

 

Contents (12)

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Front matter

§ HE fOME filBRARY Cro-.vn 8vo., J20 pages. Handsome Cloth Cover. Illustrations. 2s. each. -GERALD THURLOW; or. The New Marshal A Story of California. By T M. Browne COUSIN MARY. By Mrs. Oliph.nt. DOCTOR CROSS; or, Tried and True. By Ruth Stirling. BROWNIE; or, The Lady Superior. By Eliza F Pollard. FOR HONOUR'S SAKE. By Jennie Chappell. GERARD MASTYN; or, The Son of a Genius. By E. Harcourt Burrage. BEN-HUR. By L. Wallace. UNCLE TOMS CABIN. By Harriet Beecher Stowe. MADELINE; or, The Tale of a Haunted House. By Jennie Chappell t LOUIE'S MARRIED LIFE. By Sarah Doudney. ' NAOMI; or, The Last Da\s of Jerusalem. By Mrs. Webb THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS. By John Bunyan With Forty-Seven Full-page and other Illustrations by Frederick Barnard J. D. Limon, W Small, etc (416 Pages). DOROTHY'S TRAINING; or, Wild-Flower or Weed.

By Jennie Chappell. LIVING IT DOWN. Bv Laura M. Lane. MICK TRACY, The Irish Scripture Reader. By The Author of " Tim Uoolan : The Irish Emigrant. A WAY IN THE WILDERNESS. By M vggie Swan HER SADDEST BLESSING. B-i Jennie Chappell, ionoon: S. W. PARTRlOtiE & CO., 3 ,_ 9, PATERNOSTER ROW. E.C _______—— II - I llll ■ __ The Home Library Continued CHRISSY'S ENDEAVOUR. THE MAN OF THE HOUSE. JULIA RIED. RUTH ERSKINE'S CROSSES. ESTER RIED. ESTER RIED YET SPEAKING. \ By THREE PEOPLE. ' PANSY FOUR GIRLS AT CHAUTAUOUA. AN ENDLESS CHAIN. THE CHAUTAUQUA GIRLS AT HOME. WISE AND OTHERWISE. / THE BETTER PART. -7 MARK DESBOROUGH'S VOW. C By ANN'E THE STRAIT GATE. ) s- SwAN EDITH OSWALD. By Jane M. Kippen. (224 pages) AVICE: A Story of Imperial Ro.me. By Eliza « F. Pollard. FLORENCE STANLEY; or, Forgiving Because ' Mlxh Forgiven.

By Jvne M. Kippen. WITHOUT A THOUGHT' or Dora s Discipline. By iennje Chappell A BUNCH OF CHERRIES. By [. W. Kirto*. THE HOUSEHOLD ANGEL. By Madeline Li site London: S. W. PARTRIDGE _. CO. 8 & g, Paternoster Row, E.C. JACQUES HAMOI OR SIR PHILIP'S PRIVATE MESSENGER He began to descend the ladder, slow and timid at tirst, but quicker aud firmer presently." — Page 259. JACQUES HAMON OR SIR PHILIP'S PRIVATE MESSENGER BY MAEY E. EOPES AUTHOR OF "BEL'S BABY," "VASSIA," "COTTAGE POLITICS," ETC. FRONTISPIECE BY PAUL HARDY LONDON S. W. PAKTRIDGE & CO. 8 & 9 PATERNOSTER ROW CONTENTS. PAGE I. SIR PHILIP STATES THE CASE .... 7 II. IN THE DEAD OP NIGHT 27 III. I DELIVER UP MY TRUST 54 IV. AN ENEMY HATH DONE THIS .... 78 V. ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL . . . 105 VI. THE STORY OP ANTOINE CLAIREAU . . . 129 VII.

Chapter I. Sir Philip States The Case

" I say, Jack ! Jersey Jack ! Where are you ? What — abed ? Why, you lazy lubber ! Here's Sir Philip and the French Marquee enquiring after your health." " All right — I'm awake — I'm coming," says I. " You'd be sleepy too, Ben Tivett, if you'd been up half the night setting the yacht to rights after such a voyage as we had from Sark." As quick as I could, I washed my face and hands, got into my clothes, and brushed my hair. And I was not long about it either, for in two minutes by my watch I was standing in the doorway of the saloon — a pretty little cabin as ever you see, all fitted up according to Sir Phdip's own ideas, which was good ones — always. My master, Sir Philip Penreath, and his friend the French Marquis de Quedrennes, were sitting at the saloon table, side by side, and spread out before them was a map and some papers.

" Yes, Sere Pheelp, dis is de place where lie the estates of my late cousin," the Marquis was saying, as he pointed to a corner of the map near the Breton coast line. " His half-nephew, wid a young wife, live there at the chateau, and have been occupied theirself of the old man's affairs." Then the Marquis looks up and sees me, and says — " Bon jour, Jacques Hamon." " Bon jour, M. le Marquis," says I. " Good morning, Jack," says my master. " Come in, will you, my man ? And shut the door, please. So — now we can't be over heard on deck. There's a little bit of business on hand — difficult business, and delicate, too — rather ; and when we were talking it over — the Marquis and I — and wondering whom we could get to help us, I thought of my trusty sailor, Jersey Jack." I felt myself getting very hot and red at this, but I didn't mind it, considering the cause.

"Thank you kindly, Sir Philip," says I, for of course I was proud to be trusted ; and 1 like my master to call me Jersey Jack, too, for he only does that when he's in his best mood. Other times its Jacques, or Jacques Hamon, for I'm a Channel Island man, and have got a French name, though I've Lived in England so long that I've forgot my patois, and have come to talk English like my mates on the yacht. " Will you explain the matter to Jack, Marquis, or shall I ? " says Sir Philip. " If you shall be so amiable, mine friend, I will be moche oblige," says the French gent, in that queer lingo of his, which he'd never bettered, though he'd been years in England. " Well, my lad," — and my master he turns to me — " the case is this. The Marquis has just heard of the death of an old gentleman, a cousin of his, in Brittany."

" Yes, Sir Philip," says I, wondering what the death of the old Frenchman had to do with me. " The deceased gentleman was not married," continued my master ; " his name was Pierre de St Remy ; and, some years ago, he made a will (wrote it himself, for he hated lawyers and mistrusted them) in favour of a distant relation of his — Eustache Delmaine, to whom he had always been much attached. This young man and his newly - married wife live in a chateau on the estates which now — when the will is proved — should come into his own possession." " Ah dame oui ! " puts in the Marquis. " Yes, you say true ; and all would be easy — so easy, but for dat scelerat — what you call scoundrel — Paul de St Remy. Helas ! How wicked is dis world ! " "This Paul de St Remy," went on Sir Philip, " is own nephew to the deceased, and but for the will that has been made, he would inherit the whole of the property, for he is the only near relation living.

But old Pierre long ago learned what manner of man was this nephew of his. Paul had been an idle, dissipated youth, and had made his friends thoroughly ashamed of him from the first. Later on he led the life of an adventurer ; went to Paris and worked, during the time of the Revolution, as a spy of Robespierre's ; while now, like many of that gang, he is employed by Buonaparte in the same sort of dirty work, though he is called a coastguard official. I am right in telling this much, am I not, Marquis ? " " But, certainly," says the Marquis, taking snuff out of a gold box and sniffing fierce and loud after it. " Dere is noting too bad as you can say for Paul de St Remy. Please to continue, Sere Pheelp." So my master goes on — " Old Pierre de St Remy, being a shrewd and far-seeing man, made sure that at his death his will would stand a great chance of being destroyed by his nephew Paul, unless special precautions were taken.

For of course, if no papers could be produced, Paul would naturally succeed to the property. So, to make all safe, the old man prepared and signed a duplicate of his will, and sent it over to England, to the care of his friend and cousin the Marquis, whom he could trust to produce it when needful." " Yes, Sir Philip," says I, as my master stops a moment. " That's all plain enough, but I don't see yet where I come in." " I'm coming to that, Jack. Eustache Delmaine writes that already Paul is bestir ring himself in the matter of his uncle's property, giving out everywhere that the old gentleman died intestate, and that he — Paul — is therefore the heir to all. In fact, the Marquis learns that he has even applied to the law courts, to put him in possession of his uncle's estate." "Ah oui ! What a bad man!

Helas! Helas ! " says the Marquis in a whisper to himself, as he taps his snuffbox before taking another pinch. " Are you attending, Jack ? " says my master. " Yes, Sir Philip," says I ; and so I was — honour bright. "Eustache Delmaine writes, therefore, to the Marquis, begging him to lose no time in sending his copy of the will to be proved in court. The duplicate copy was left among the old man's papers, and so we may feel sure that, for his own sake, M. Paul has destroyed it." ' ' But maybe he won't know that there's a copy here, Sir Philip," says I. " Yes, he would, Jack," says my master. " In the will that the Marquis has just shown me is a note to the effect that a copy is to be found in the old gentleman's safe ; and there can be little doubt that in this paper (the one left in the safe, I mean) is a similar note, stating that the duplicate is in the possession of the Marquis de Quedrennes, in England.

Indeed, Jack, M. Paul de St Bemy must know, for the Marquis hears that the chateau and its neighbourhood are being watched by the coastguards ; and why should this be, except to intercept any special messenger, the bearer of the will ? " All of a sudden I see what the master was driving at, and says I, " A messenger, Sir Philip ? Ah, now, I understand. It's me you want to send with that paper." But before Sir Philip had time to answer, up hops the little Marquis, all of a tremble. "Ah, mon gar con !" he screamed out in his little cracked voice, " I would give dis light hand to be mine own messenger to France. But, malheureusement, I shall only lose my life if I land mineself in my country, and Eustache Delmaine loses also de will. It is not secret, Jacques Hamon, dat I left France — moi — when de Revolution broke out; and, now to return, dis is impossible, if I submit not mineself to Napoleon.

Bah ! " — and up goes the little Marquis's big nose in the air — " shall indeed a royalist and one of de haute noblesse do de homage B to de Corsican adventurer ? Non ! Mille fois non, merci bien ! Jamais ! Jamais ! A bas V Enrpereur ! Vive le roi et la haute noblesse ! " The Marquis had got to his feet on to the chair, being quite excited and taken out of himself. He waved his arms like a wind mill, and screamed so loud, that I was afraid the sailors would hear. But Sir PhiUp, he took hold of one arm, and, says he, soothing and gentle, " My good friend, this is all very natural ; but remember, there is work on hand, and we have no time to -lose." The poor little French gentleman dropped to his seat like a Jack-in-the-box with a broken spring. " You have reason, Sere Pheelp," he says, so meek and humble, that I felt quite sorry for him.

" Please have de goodness to proceed, and tell Jacques what he must do." " But, first, Sir Philip," says I, " how am I to get across channel ? " " In the way you're best used to, my lad," says my master, smiling. " We'll all go off for a cruise in the Swift, and we will con trive to land you somewhere on the coast, not too far from the chateau. Wild and rocky and very lonely a great part of the Breton shore is — so, Marquis, I think you've told me ? " " Yes, Sere Pheelp, steeped cliffs wid holes in dem and de tide rushing in and out like a horse-race." " Rather a favourite neighbourhood with smugglers, I've heard," says Sir Philip. " You ought to know something about that, Jack, for you hail from Jersey, and it's between the Channel Islands and the Breton and Norman coasts that the trade is busiest."

" Yes, Sir Philip," I makes answer ; " I know as much about smuggling as an honest man may." " Well now, my man," says my master, " if the wind's fair, we must get the Sivift to sea to-night. It will be sharp work, as we have only just come in, and after heavy weather too, and the boat must be made taut and trim. Is the sailing-master aboard this morning?" " I don't know, sir," I answers ; " he may be now." " Well, presently you had better go and see, Jack," says Sir Philip ; " and if he has come, just ask him to step into my private cabin. And the steward had better come to me directly Mr Morton leaves the cabin, for he will have to buy in provisions at once. And, Jack, just look at the big gun, will you ? and see that all's in working order. We may want it, though I hope we shall not ; but an English yacht — a clipper such as ours — would be a prize worth taking, and in war time she isn't safe from those rascally privateers.

We must be all aboard and ready to sail about eight o'clock to-night ; the tide will be on the turn, and before nine we'll weigh anchor, and let her drop down with the ebb. Now, Marquis," adds the master, turning to the little French gent, who was sitting in the brownest of all brown studies, hugging his snuffbox, "Now, Marquis, you'd better, please, go home, and pack your valise ; get your best sea legs on, pluck up heart, and be ready to sail to-night. Of course, if you prefer, we can manage the business without you, but I would rather have you with us ; you know the coast, and can advise where it will be safest to land, and what and whom to avoid." " Mais certainement, I shall go wid you," says the Marquis, and up goes his head, and he straightens out his back, and for a minute, with that proud smile on his face, he looked like the gallant little officer I'd heard he used to be.

" You'll see that things are put in train at once, Jack, please," says Sir Philip, as I was opening the cabin-door. " Send Mr Morton first, and tell the steward I want him directly after. And as for yourself, my lad, you'd perhaps better tell your friends that it's possible you may not be back for a week or two. And if you've a sweetheart, why, say a good-bye that will give her something to think about till you come home again." " Thank you, Sir Philip," I make reply ; " but I've got nothing of the sort. When I was a youngster I lost my heart to a little French lass down in Jersey, and I've never thought of no one since." " Ma foi ! But dat is constancj?' ! " says the Marquis. " Not too moche French blood in you, Jacques Hamon, dat is ver' plain ! Dis so obstinate love is a fault dat is English only."

" Just one word more, Jack ! " says my master, as I stood with the door in my hand. " It would be wrong for us to conceal from you that there may be risk in this service which we are asking you to undertake for us. Now, if you shrink from it, say so, and I will make another arrangement — send some one else, or even try to deliver the will myself. There is almost nothing I would not do to prevent M. Pierre's property from falling into the hands of that rascally nephew of his. The Marquis has been my friend for years, and in this matter we are quite at one as to what ought to be done." " I tank you grateful, Sere Pheelp," says the Marquis. " I could do noting at all widout you." " Well, Jack, now you know there is risk, what say you ? " asks my master. " Just what I said before, Sir Philip," says I. "I've not thought about risk, so please don't you.

I'll do all I know to keep out of danger, but if I get into a hobble, well — I'll get out the best I can. And, any how, please don't think of giving the com mission to any one else, for, risk or no risk, I'm your man ! " And with those words for my last, out I go and shut the cabin-door. That night we up with our anchor a bit before nine, and as the tide began to go out, we went with it, having a fair wind and smooth water. I look up at the bright moon and clear stars, as we get out to sea, and I says to myself, standing at the helm — " What'll happen, I wonder, before we come sailing in, as now we're sailing out ! God only knows," says I ; " but any way, it's a comfort that God does know."

Chapter II. In The Dead Of Night

I suppose the gales had blown themselves out, finishing up with the big storm we'd been fighting with on that passage from Sark that I've spoke of already. Anyhow, there never was finer weather than we started with, and kept, too, all the way across channel. Not but what we'd a good breeze, too, but it was fair, and the Swift went flying away before it, like the swallow she was named for. There wasn't any motion to speak of; leastways, not for anyone at all used to the sea ; and Sir Philip didn't take no notice of it. But the Marquis couldn't come on deck till late on the morning after our start, and when he did turn up, his poor Little pinched face had well-nigh as many colours as a rainbow. "Ah, Jacques," says he to me, when I got him a camp-stool and rugs, and made him comfortable in a sheltered corner ; " Ah, Jacques, le mal de mer, c'est la mere des maux, n'est-ce pas, mon garcon ?

" And, truly, it seemed as if his being sea-sick had doubled all his troubles, and they'd been neither few nor small before — poor little gentleman ! We had no adventures worth mentionins till we were nearing the Breton coast, and the great wild rocks and cliffs and islands stood out against the clear sky in the distance for • all the world like a lovely picture. It was afternoon, and as there was no thought of landing me — Sir Philip said — before dark, he gave Mr Morton orders to run down the coast at a safe distance from the shore, but keeping an eye open for any little quiet bay or lonely nook that would make a good place to run a boat into later on. Under the land here the sea was quite smooth, and the Marquis begins to be nice and lively, hopping about all over the deck, glass in hand, looking out for the different points he knew, as we sailed along.

" Ah, yes," says he, " dere's St Malo, wid de big wall, and de islands round. For me to land mineself here, shall cost me mine head. And opposite is lovely Dinard, and, plus loin, round de corner, is de sunny bay of Parame. I did play on dose sand when I was leetle child, and catched srimp in de pools of rock. Ah, mon Dieu ! how dose days are long time past ! " And the poor Marquis's bright face went into puckers all in a minute, like a child's, and he gives a little sob, and then was that ashamed of it that he turned it into a cough, and finished up by blowing a blast on his great nose and taking a pinch of snuff big enough even for what it was going into. That seemed to comfort him, I noticed, for he cheered up and was quite himself afterwards. We were still quietly gliding along under about half as much sail as the yacht carried usually, when we spied a smallish vessel, lying rather low in the water and topheavy with canvas, following us.

Sir Philip and Mr Morton stood together with their glasses up ; and now they looks round at each other and says at the same moment, " Privateer ! " " But we don't care about being overtaken just yet," says my master, smiling. " We must not come to close quarters with any craft till our work's done ; for, if we were recognised, the work might be made doubly hard for us ; so, please, Mr Morton, give orders to our men to crowd on sail, and we'll show this fellow a clean pair of heels." The order was given, the great white wings were spread, and away over the dancing blue fled the Sivift, well deserving her name as she sped on, with a brisk side wind. The privateer followed for a bit, but presently, whether seeing that her speed was no match for ours or spying in the distance an English frigate cruising about, blockading the ports on that coast: — she made for a creek, and disappeared behind a big rocky island.

It was evening and fast getting dark before the orders were given to 'bout ship and run back, the side wind still serving us in good stead. Sir Philip, the Marquis, and the sailing master had among 'em settled on the place where a little boat might land me and the precious will, which same was sewed and sealed up in some waterproof stuff, and tucked safe away in an inner pocket of my vest, under the seaman's jersey that I always wear. The quiet little nook where I was to land lay under an overhanging cliff, into which a cave burrowed ; and, as at night it would still be highish tide and deep water, the boat could put close in. Right from the shore a pathway led zigzag up the cliff, coming out at the top into a thick copse of young trees and brushwood, this copse belonging to the very estate of the late M. Pierre de St Remy.

If I found I was able to land here with out any one seeing me, it ought not to be hard to find my way, under cover of the c night, to the chateau ; and I says to myself — cocksure as them as has little experience often is — " This ain't going to be much of a job after all ! " It was past midnight before we sailed back far enough to get opposite the place, and now orders were given to cast anchor and get out the small boat. While the orders were being carried out, Sir Philip called me into the cabin where the Marquis was too, and says he : — " Jack, my boy, you don't need to be told how much depends upon you this night. We don't either of us doubt for one moment your faithfulness or your courage ; and I am sure that, for the sake of all concerned — yourself included — you will also be prudent.' " You may count on my doing all that a man may, Sir Philip ; I can't say more !

" And no more I could, for a big lump come in my throat, my master's words being so kind, and his dear face kinder still. Then the Marquis, he hops up in his wonderful Jack-in-the-box style, and says he, " Le bon Dieu go wid you, Jacques Hamon, and give you succeed, and send speedy your home return. I tank you, mon brave garcon; and it is not me dat will forget de reward when you come back." " Try to remember all the instructions you have received, Jack," says Sir Philip; "and when you have safely delivered your packet, bear in mind that the signal we have agreed upon is a flare shown for one instant only on the rocky ledge half-way up the cliff, just opposite where we are lying now. This is of course a night-signal only, and I fear it is too much to expect that you should do your errand and be back and signalling to us before the morning breaks.

But we cannot attempt to send a boat for you by daylight ; the risk would be too great. So, even if you are through with what you have to do by to-morrow morning, you must lie close, either at the chateau, or hidden in the copse, till dark." " I quite understand, Sir Pkihp," says I, " and I won't forget." " Then, once more good-bye, and God bless you," says my master. He follows me up on deck, and looks down over the ship's side while I get into the boat. Then we push off, and go steal ing out into the darkness, towards the lonely shore. The oars were muffled, and the two men rowing said never a word save in whispers, for such were our orders. But just as we'd got half-way towards the place we were steering for, I saw something that sent the heart up into my mouth, as the saying is. The men having their backs to the shore, rowing, could see nothing, but I was at the rudder ; and what startled me was nothing more nor less than a sudden flash of light, right in the very mouth of the dark cave that opened up like a tunnel under the cliff in front.

" Easy all ! " I whispers, and the men lays on their oars. " What is it, Jack ? " says stroke, leaning forrard, and looking me anxious in the face. " A sudden light, Ben ; it just flashed and were gone," says I. " Whereabouts ? " asks bow. "Right inside the cave," says I, "close by where I'm to land." " Shall we turn and row back to the yacht ? " whispers Ben. "No," says I, "I'll put this through, now I have started out. Pull on for another minute or two, mates, till we gets a little nearer. Softly now, don't splash ! A little noise can be heard a long way on the water, such a night as this." For in truth the wind had dropped now to a mere breath, and the waves crept up to the shore with scarce more than a murmur. The men pulled on, silent and swift, for maybe three minutes more ; then I give them the order to stop.

"Just dip your oars to hold her and keep her from drifting," says I, and then I stand up and take my coat off, and my big, heavy, seaman's boots. " Why, Jack, what are you after ? " says Ben, looking as if he thought I'd gone mad. " I'm going to swim to the landing-place," says I. " You see, mates, that light shows there must be folks on the watch for some thing, and a boat would be seen if she came at all near. But I can get there swimming easy enough, and if they were to turn the light on again, I can dive and swim under water a bit. Now I'm going overboard, boys, just here, and as soon as you see me come up and strike out fair for the shore, you row back to the yacht, and tell the master all about it, and say to him and the Marquis, from Jersey Jack, that by hook or by crook, somehow or other, I hope to do the work I'm sent for, if my life's spared."

Then I shake hands with my mates and slip into the sea, making no splash, and strike out for the dark line of the shore. The water wasn't very cold, for we'd had a warmer summer than common, with a lot of sunshine, and these were still the early days of September. So, I'd no feeling of cramp, and did my swimming quite nice and comfortable, now treading water, now cutting along with the swift side stroke, but always careful not to get my head too high so as to be seen. As I came nearer the shore, I could make things out a deal plainer. There was the cave, looking like a great, black yawn ing mouth, set in the face of the rugged cliff, and there, too, was the pathway — of a lighter colour — running in a winding, zigzag, terracing sort of fashion, up to the top. To the right of the cave as I faced it there was a big boulder standing high out of the water ; and, says I to myself, " That's where I must land, for no one can see me behind that."

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