Struck down, 'a tale of Devon' ... Fourth edition

Front matter

Frederick Warne and Co.'s Publications. Price 2s. per Volume. WARNE'S CROWN LIBRARY. An entirely New Series, drawn from the works of the most eminent Authors, and embodying many celebrated Novels, as well as other miscellaneous writings wliich hold a foremost place in English Literature. The ' ' Crown Library " meets a different demand from our now well-known Series "TheChanpos Classics;" both being drawn from entirely distinct branches of literature. The volumes are " Unabridged," and printed from the best Editions extant. They have all been composed in a uniform style from New Type, are very carefully printed on good paper, and bound in neat styles. In crown Svo, cloth gilt, bevelled boards. ALSO KEPT In Half Polished Leather, raised bands, marbled sides, gill edges. 1. Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist, By Henry Cockton. 16.

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Chapter I. The

"GOLDEN GALLEON." There is a part of Plymouth, and a very inter esting part too, which, as a rule, escapes the ken of the passing stranger. I allude to the old Plymouth harbour, which lies just beyond the Barbican, at the mouth of the river Plym, and which was the old sea port from whence the immortal Plymouth Captains set sail to conquer new worlds and do battle with the enemies of England. Long before the famous Sound was the renowned roadstead of the West, when the breakwater was not even dreamed of, from the mouth of the Plym did stout Devon men put out to sea on buccaneering expeditions, from which they returned covered with glory and with pockets well lined. The world was young then, and the telegraph, the daily paper, and the special correspondent among the blessings to come. These gallant sailors, who B went forth to harry their country's foes upon the high seas, were not very particular with regard to nationality.

Education was at a low standard, and the knowledge of tongues, for instance, peculiarly deficient. We were always at war with some power, and if a deeply-laden galleon fell in these adven turers' way, the crew of which spoke no English, who was to determine whether they were not Spanish, French, Dutch, or whatever the particular nation happened to be that we were on pleasant throat cutting terms with ? There was nobody to send a letter to the papers in those times, reporting such outrages, for reasons above mentioned, and the buccaneers took precautions to prevent represen tations of their irregular practices in a manner which it is best not to dwell upon. We certainly owe them a good deal ; but I am afraid in these days we should club them pirates without scruple, and that an unappreciative judge and jury, with no sense of romance about them, would consign them to the public executioner.

Still, from that snug little harbour lying below the citadel did Drake and his captains, leaving that historic game of bowls on the Hoe, sally forth to scatter the Armada, and shatter the power of the Spaniard for aye. Strange doings has that samo harbour witnessed, and it is probable that during the early days of this century, besides the privateering which was hereditary to the place, and handed down by tradition from the times of Elizabeth or earlier (they called it buccaneering then), there was a smartish trade done in Nantes cognac, laces, silks, &c, for tlie Devon men had much the same taste for smuggling that characterised the whole of the south coast in those days of heavy tariffs, and were bold sailors and keen traders to boot. Down upon Plymouth Bar, as the quay running alongside the quaint little harbour is called, stands one of the queerest nautical taverns ever seen.

There is no possibility of mistaking it for anything else. Even from the outside you can picture the interior — the snugly-curtained latticed windows, the low, dark, unpolished mahogany doorway, are all unmistakeably indicative of the brass and dark-wood fittings within. You can sec instinctively the cosy bar, fragrant with the perfume of lemons, wine, and old Jamaica ; the old china bowls and silver-mounted punch ladles ; the squat-stoppered Dutch-shaped bottles that deck the shelves ; the portentous sheaf of long clay pipes, slender-stemmed, deep-bowled fellows, such as are not made in this country, but had evidently found their wav across from Amsterdam or the Hague. B— You knew there was a back parlour sacred to merchant-skippers, where endless pipes were smoked, where mighty jorums of punch were consumed, and marvellous yarns were told with portentous solemnity, and received with unquestioning credulity.

These men went " down to the sea in ships," and were cognisant of the strange things their class at times were witness to. It was no sailors' public house, nor could anyone have deemed so for a moment. It was a respectable tavern of the old kind, the frequenters of which, if they took a deal of liquor — and they did — knew how to carry it discreetly. Many of the habitue's of the little parlour had their abode at the " Golden Galleon." Tradition said that the house had been built out of the spoil that accrued to some freebooter for his successful share in an attack on one of those famous Spanish argosies. These rough sea-captains found the " Galleon " a pleasant resting-place during their brief holiday on shore. They met congenial society ; they were handy to look after their own immediate business ; the tavern had a thoroughly nautical air pervading it — the little parlour, for instance, was not unlike a ship's cuddy ; and lastly ; John Black, the landlord, was one of themselves.

John Black had gone to sea as a boy, and worked his way up till he commanded first a small craft, and finally a clipper engaged in the Chinese trade. After some thirty-five years afloat he cast about for some business in which to settle down and invest his savings, and thought himself fortunate when he acquired the good-will and a twenty-one years' lease of the "Golden Galleon." It was an old-fashioned house, doing a good business when it came into John Black's hands; but during the ten years he had conducted it, had thriven wonderfully, and more especially since the appearance of the Senora some half-dozen years after John Black had established himself there. Who she was exactly was somewhat of a mystery. She called the bluff old landlord of the " Galleon " her father, and he invariably acknow ledged her as his daughter ; but how came the old sailor sire of this dark-eyed Spanish-looking girl, whose gait was haughty as a goddess, and whose black orbs positively lightened when crossed ?

Nobody had ever heard that John Black was married, and it was not till he had been some time installed at the " Golden Galleon " that the Senora made her appearance, and was briefly introduced to his cronies by John Black as " my gal." He was a taciturn man, and to inquiry about his wife, briefly replied " dead," and volunteered no further explanation of his matrimonial experiences. Where he was married or to whom was known only to himself ; but to judge from the Senora, her mother must have had Spanish or Creole blood in her veins. Girl as she was — child would almost express it better, for Marietta was barely seventeen when she took possession of that cosy little bar — she soon became a presence in the house. She had been very few weeks there before these bluff old sea-dogs were made to comprehend that Miss Black admitted no jesting, that, young as she was, she stood severely upon her dignity, and though treating her father's customers with the utmost courtesy, she did it in right regal fashion.

They were astonished at first, and half inclined to resent John Black's " gal " giving herself such airs ; but tlie sweetness of her manner, the sunniness of her smile, and the quick memory she showed for all their little weaknesses, speedily subdued any feeling of that kind. Sailors have usually a quick eye for beauty, and the little parlour unanimously agreed that John Black's daughter was a " crasher." They varied a good deal in epithets; some of them characterised her as a " bouncer," but they all agreed on one point, coming back to their old nautical parlance, that the " Princess," as they at that time dubbed her, was the trimmest craft that had been seen in these waters in their time. But the " Princess " rather resented the title conferred upon her by what was technically known as " the skippers' room," and so the little coterie who already stood in awe of Marietta's hot, passionate temper were driven to drop the appella tion.

They were much puzzled what to call their favourite, when the arrival of a Spanish captain solved the difficulty for them. It was not very often that foreigners troubled the snug little tavern, but somehow the Spaniard, who spoke English tolerably well, found his way there. He addressed Marietta as " the Senora " from the outset. She received it with dignified complacency, and from that moment it came to be her accepted title in the "Golden Galleon." One could hardly call such a dashing black-browed brunette with the stately manner of Marietta "Miss Black," and the new appellation certainly relieved the Jiabitutfs of the house from what might be emphatically described as an un named difficulty. The Senora she became then, and the Senora she was widely known as still, for she had the reputation of being the prettiest girl in Plymouth, and more than one idler made his way down to the " Golden Galleon," and under pretence of assuaging his thirst sought for a glimpse of tlie presiding goddess.

But such danglers soon found that she was no ordinary barmaid. Marietta was far from lavish of her smiles on such chance customers. To the old frequenters of the house she was all courtesy, but her manner to these new comers was very different, and more than one expert in that description of flirtation had been put to confusion by the contemptuous indifference with which his preliminary compliments had been received. Her beauty, the haughtiness with which she carried herself, and the somewhat mysterious haze concerning her birth, made the girl in a way rather celebrated in the city. There was no denying it, she was a striking figure anywhere, and looked considerably above her station. She had naturally good taste, and her father was lavish of money where she was concerned. But though she had many admirers, no one could as yet be pointed out as having found favour in her sight.

There were two acknowledged pretenders to her hand ; one was a manly young sailor, who, by his own dash and seamanship in one or two difficult situations, had had the good fortune to obtain the command of a fine ship, just after his thirtieth year. The other was a much older man. Dave Skirley had served under her father, but had not altogether prospered in his profession. He was seldom entrusted with a ship, but had more often to content himself with the. position of first mate — a dark, saturnine, somewhat discontented man, as is apt to be the case with those with whom life has gone askew. But this did not prevent his con ceiving a passionate admiration for Marietta. The Senora was friendly to him, but he certainly could not say she was anything more ; indeed, although his devotion must not only have been patent to the girl herself, but to all those who frequented the house, Skirley most certainly could not boast of receiving any encouragement.

Still, for the matter of that neither perhaps could his younger rival, though in the skippers' room there went round many a know ing wink and prediction that young Jack Furness would bring the haughty beauty to her bearings. Could Jack Furness himself have been cross examined on this point he would have been far less confident than the coterie in tlie skippers' room. He had been away from Plymouth now for the best part of a year on a voyage to Australia, and had carried away with him no assurance whatever on the sub ject. He had said as much as he dared before leaving, but Marietta's manner had made him afraid to risk all by coming to the point, so he had taken with him only a memory — not a promise — and could only trust to resume his wooing when he returned from what he trusted would prove a prosperous trip.

It was somewhat singular that such a handsome girl as Marietta had not an acknowledged lover ; but so it was, and she had only herself to thank for it. The Senora was hard to please, and the man to attract her wayward fancy had apparently yet to come. Dave Skirley, when on shore, kept, as far as he dared, a somewhat jealous watch oa _r her proceedings. But upon two occasions, when Marietta had her suspicions roused concerning this espionage, she had flamed out with such violence as had made him Avondrous shy of repeating the offence. It was hardly likely that a hot-tempered, passionate girl like the Senora would submit to any unlicensed control. The sole being who had the slightest right to take cognisance of her proceedings was her father, 4 and blunt old John Black was about as likely to interfere Avith his high - spirited daughter as to attempt the draining tho Sound.

Nobody as yet had volunteered the assertion that Marietta had a favoured lover, and thus accounted for her indifference to the two pretenders to her hand. The girl had uncontrolled freedom, and at times delegated her duties to an assistant but no whisper had ever gone abroad of her being seen in company with one of the opposite sex. She was, when encountered out, either by herself or walking with a female companion, and the skippers' room, in their " tobacco parliaments," stead fastly believed that Jack Furness was the man, and that though the maiden might be coy, her succumb ing was a mere matter of time. " Some on 'em's like that, you know," said one of the oracles of the little parlour; "they fills, and they backs, and they falls off, and they wants a light hand on the helm, or else you can do nothing with them.

John Black's daughter is just about as handsome and saucy as they make 'em. They're a bit skeary that kind, and require delicate handling. It ain't no use attempting to capture them with a rush, bless yer ! Jack Furness is a sailor every inch, he knows when the navigation's difficult. Lord ! the windings of some women's hearts are like the shift ing of the sands, in the James and Mary's, where you want to keep the lead going, as you all know, mates, every minute. You can't hurry through 'em. As I said before, Jack Furness knows what he's about ! " The old story. The lookers on so often feel that they know more of our affairs than we do ourselves. till subsequent events show them how very little they really knew about it. Had there been a woman there to take note of Marietta's fits, now of moody silence and now of quick irritability, she would have suspected there was something amiss in her young life, — would have divined there was something that troubled the current of her existence.

But what were a lot of sailors likely to know about the state of a girl's heart ? A woman could have had half a dozen lovers, and twisted the whole skippers' room round her little finger to boot, without their know ing anything about it. The Senora kept her own counsel, and if she had a serious flirtation in hand, conducted it with discretion, and took good care that the hero should never be seen at the " Golden Galleon." There is much danger of shipwreck in some of these backwaters of life. Men, and women especially, run less danger who keep in the open channel.

Chapter II. The Citadel Tragedy

There was a mighty sound of revelry that summer night in the old citadel of Plymouth. Song and laughter rang out of the open windows of the mess room, till their faint sound well-nigh reached the ears of the loungers on the Hoe. Again and again did the band crash out in resonant tones the See- Saw Waltzes, or the popular refrain of " Wait till the Clouds roll by." The claret jugs fairly danced round the table. There was a tendency on the part of the whole party to break into vocal melody on faint pretext. Never had the officers of the th been in wilder spirits. Had they not got their orders for the East that morning, and were they not saying good-bye to their friends previous to closing their mess and sending the plate to their bankers ? There is a smack of the Viking blood in us still, I suppose, and like our progenitors we have a tendency to a night's wassail before betaking ourselves to our ships.

Little heeded those gay spirits of the hard fare, and still harder fighting that lay before them iy in Africa. The reflection that when next they met round the dinner-table in such fashion, many a face that now rippled with laughter would be cold and still for ever, never crossed their minds. Men don't think of such things at such times, the pulses beat quick, and the blood courses swiftly through the veins, and nobody thinks but of the honour to be won, the rewards to be gathered, conjoined with a feverish thirst to have what is called " a shy at the enemy." The fighting instinct is strong in man, and especially in the Anglo-Saxon race, when he deems his brethren are getting somewhat the worst of it. We may quarrel amongst ourselves, but it is some thing like the quarrel of husband and wife.

Let anyone interfere and he finds to his cost their unanimity is wonderful. One man alone of all that joyous party seemed a little distrait — a tall, good-looking young fellow, with chestnut hair, and a bold grey eye. He joined in his comrades' mirth to some extent, but it was in a somewhat half-hearted fashion, such as one would hardly have expected from his physique and temperament. He gulped his wine down too in absent fashion, as a man does who only half enjoys it. He glanced now and again impatiently at his watch, and when called upon to sing " John Peel," for the rendering of which lyric he was celebrated in the regiment, would have fain backed out of it, but this his comrades would not stand. He was com pelled to troll out the grand old hunting song, and they gave him a chorus which must have startled the very rabbits at Mount Edgecumbe.

" I say, Charlie, old man, you ain't up to concert pitch by a long chalk to-night. Fancy you, the best man we've got to hounds in the regiment, not being able to throw your heart into your favourite song. Why, old chap, you've ground out ' John Peel ' to-night, as if you were a barrel-organ." "Well," replied Clayford, "I suppose we can't always be in high spirits. You know I didn't want to sing ' John Peel,' and for the best of all possible reasons, I didn't feel up to it. I don't suppose such a wet blanket as I feel to-night, ought ever to have come to mess ; but hang it all, Tom, I couldn't be absent from our last mess party. We all feel hipped at times, and this happens to be one of the days when I am off colour." Tom Leader looked at his friend for a moment and then said, " I tell you what it is, old fellow, the fun here is about over for the present.

You and I will just drop down the hill and look in at the theatre for an hour or two. They tell me they've got something rather funny on, and we'll be back here in time for a grilled bone and a last cigar." " Done with you, Tom," rejoined Clayford, as he rose ; " I'll just walk across to my rooms and scribble a couple of notes that I want to go by the early post, and be back in half an hour at the outside." And with this, the young man, running through a gauntlet of chaff about his early desertion, left the room. The band had been dismissed, the singing had for the time died away, and the revellers were consuming their tobacco over coffee, erratic whist, and perhaps still more erratic conversation, when suddenly one of the whist players paused, with the card suspended in his hand, and exclaimed, " Surely that was a shot !

" The card players stopped and pricked up their ears, but the babble at the other end of the room rather precluded the hearing of anything but a very pronounced sound. " By Jove ! " exclaimed one of them, " I think I heard a shot then. What's the use of bothering our heads ? it's either some boys or pack of young roughs larking at the back of the citadel. The young beggars have got into the bottom of the ditch, most likely. Go on, Torrens, you to "play. Put down that card that you've been keeping hanging over our heads, like the sword of Damocles ; it's the ace of trumps for a sovereign." Suddenly there was a sharp knock at the door of the ante-room, and almost without waiting for per mission to enter, the sergeant of the guard made his appearance. " Beg pardon, gentlemen ; I want to see Captain Lockyer, the captain of the day.

There has been murder done, gentlemen, and I want his instructions about what I'm to do." In an instant the whist table was broke up. Conversation stopped, cigars were put upon one side: the whole room was on its feet at the ominous word " murder," and all eagerly crowded forward to hear what Sergeant Blane had to tell. Captain Lockyer had promptly responded to his name. One of the whist players, a gaunt, grizzled veteran, who was senior major of the regiment, stepped forward and said curtly, " Tell your story to me, Blane ; who's been murdered, and where ? " " Mr. Clayford, sir ; he's lying dead in his own quarters, and the revolver which killed him is lying by his side." " You've sent for the doctor, of course ? " " Yes, sir," replied the sergeant, " and put a sentry on the door ; but stdl I'm afraid it's little any doctor c can do for Mr. Clayford.

I've seen many a dead man before, sir, and I fear there can be no mistake about his case." "Get your cap, Lockyer; you and I must walk across and investigate this at once." " Good God ! it's too horrible," burst from Tom Leader's lips ; " why, his song is hardly out of our ears, and to think poor Charlie Clayford is now lying dead within about two hundred yards of us ! " "His revolver lying by the side of him," said another. " It is curious," and his voice dropped as he murmured, " he can't have been his own murderer, surely." By this tini*, Major Griffith and Lockyer had left the room, and the others continued to discuss their comrade's death with bated breath. All revelry and mirth had died out of the party, as well it might. A favourite brother officer snatched from tfrcm in such terrible and unexpected fashion, was enough to make the mostiPreeWess serious.

"Leader, you were perhaps more a pal of his than any of us. Do you think he was in trouble or difficulty of any kind ? " "Certainly not, that I know of," replied Tom; "but poor Charlie was always rather a reserved man, and, as you know, amused himself a great deal with that boat he keeps down on the Bar. I've been out with him two cr three times ; but sailing about the Sound is slow work to my mind, as I suppose it was to most of the rest of you, for I don't think that anyone but myself has ever had a turn with him." " But surely he had somebody else with him to help manage the boat ? " remarked another of the group. "Yes, he had the sailor who took charge of it. Poor Charlie, you know, was a very good seaman, himself, and the two of them were ample." At this juncture Major Griffith and Lockyer accompanied by the regimental surgeon, returned.

"It is only too true," said the Major, solemnly. " Poor Clayford is lying on the floor of his barrack room, quite dead. His blotting-book is open on the table, and the ink is hardly dry on his pen. The doctor here will tell you more about it, however, than I can." " Yes," replied the surgeon, " the poor fellow has two bullet wounds, one of which would probably have caused death. From the other, death must have been instantaneous. . How it has all come about is, of course, a complete mystery for the present ; and a thing, I should think, it would be for the police to unravel. All we have ascertained so C — far, is that the sentry at the back of the officers' quarters heard the two shots, and passed the word down to the guard-room. Sergeant Blane instantly sent the corporal and a file of men to patrol that way, and see if there was anything amiss ; but they heard or saw nothing.

The discovery was made by the poor fellow's servant, who, having occasion to go into the room, found his master stretched lifeless on the carpet, and at once gave the alarm. There has naturally been no time to make much enquiry ; but there is one singular circumstance, namely, that the revolver, of which two chambers have been emptied, and with which the fatal wounds were doubtless inflicted, has been abandoned by the assassin. It is an instinct with most murderers to make away if possible with the weapon with which their crime was committed." An awestruck silence fell over the whole room, and sad glances were exchanged amongst the men. The surgeon saw in their faces the thought that possessed them. " No," he exclaimed, " we have certainly no right to come to that conclusion at present, till, in con junction with two or three of my colleagues, I have made a more thorough examination.

It would be premature to offer my opinion as to whether the injuries were self-inflicted. But this, I presume, is a fact that can very easily be corroborated. His servant declares that the pistol was not the property of his master; and, indeed, that poor Clayford did not own such a weapon." "Well," replied Leader, "Jennings has been his servant for the last three years, and is no doubt thoroughly acquainted with all poor Charlie's belong ings ; besides, I certainly have good reason to think that he did not own a revolver, as I know he has ordered one expressly to take out for this campaign." " Ah ! it's hardly likely," said the Major, thought fully, " that a man who possessed an excellent re volver like the one found would want to get another. However, we've done all there is to be done to-night; we have locked up his quarters, and sent messages down both to the police and the General to say what has occurred There will have to be an inquest to-morrow, and perhaps that will throw some light on the mystery.