Complete Works of Bram Stoker (563 page)

“Why, my dear sir, medically speaking, I am strongly of opinion that, when the human stomach is made to contain a large quantity of alcohol, it produces bad effects upon the system. Now, I’ve certainly taken one glass of this infernally strong Hollands, and it is now lying in my stomach like the red-hot heater of a tea-urn.”

“Is it? put it out with another, then.”

“Ay, I’m afraid that would not answer, but do you really think, admiral, that we shall effect anything by waiting here, and keeping watch and ward, not under the most comfortable circumstances, this first night of the Hall being empty.”

“Well, I don’t know that we shall,” said the admiral; “but when you really want to steal a march upon the enemy, there is nothing like beginning betimes. We are both of opinion that Varney’s great object throughout has been, by some means or another, to get possession of the house.”

“Yes; true, true.”

“We know that he has been unceasing in his endeavours to get the Bannerworth family out of it; that he has offered them their own price to become its tenant, and that the whole gist of his quiet and placid interview with Flora in the garden, was to supply her with a new set of reasons for urging her mother and brother to leave Bannerworth Hall, because the old ones were certainly not found sufficient.”

“True, true, most true,” said Mr. Chillingworth, emphatically. “You know, sir, that from the first time you broached that view of the subject to me, how entirely I coincided with you.”

“Of course you did, for you are a honest fellow, and a right-thinking fellow, though you are a doctor, and I don’t know that I like doctors much better than I like lawyers  —  they’re only humbugs in a different sort of way. But I wish to be liberal; there is such a thing as an honest lawyer, and, d  —    —  e, you’re an honest doctor!”

“Of course I’m much obliged, admiral, for your good opinion. I only wish it had struck me to bring something of a solid nature in the shape of food, to sustain the waste of the animal economy during the hours we shall have to wait here.”

“Don’t trouble yourself about that,” said the admiral. “Do you think I’m a donkey, and would set out on a cruise without victualling my ship? I should think not. Jack Pringle will be here soon, and he has my orders to bring in something to eat.”

“Well,” said the doctor, “that’s very provident of you, admiral, and I feel personally obliged; but tell me, how do you intend to conduct the watch?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, I mean, if we sit here with the window fastened so as to prevent our light from being seen, and the door closed, how are we by any possibility to know if the house is attacked or not?”

“Hark’ee, my friend,” said the admiral; “I’ve left a weak point for the enemy.”

“A what, admiral?”

“A weak point. I’ve taken good care to secure everything but one of the windows on the ground floor, and that I’ve left open, or so nearly open, that it will look like the most natural place in the world to get in at. Now, just inside that window, I’ve placed a lot of the family crockery. I’ll warrant, if anybody so much as puts his foot in, you’ll hear the smash;  —  and, d  —    —  e, there it is!”

There was a loud crash at this moment, followed by a succession of similar sounds, but of a lesser degree; and both the admiral and Mr. Chillingworth sprung to their feet.

“Come on,” cried the former; “here’ll be a precious row  —  take the lantern.”

Mr. Chillingworth did so, but he did not seem possessed of a great deal of presence of mind; for, before they got out of the room, he twice accidentally put on the dark slide, and produced a total darkness.

“D  —  n!” said the admiral; “don’t make it wink and wink in that way; hold it up, and run after me as hard as you can.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” said Mr. Chillingworth.

It was one of the windows of a long room, containing five, fronting the garden, which the admiral had left purposely unguarded; and it was not far from the apartment in which they had been sitting, so that, probably, not half a minute’s time elapsed between the moment of the first alarm, and their reaching the spot from whence it was presumed to arise.

The admiral had armed himself with one of the huge pistols, and he dashed forward, with all the vehemence of his character, towards the window, where he knew he had placed the family crockery, and where he fully expected to meet the reward of his exertion by discovering some one lying amid its fragments.

In this, however, he was disappointed; for, although there was evidently a great smash amongst the plates and dishes, the window remained closed, and there was no indication whatever of the presence of any one.

“Well, that’s odd,” said the admiral; “I balanced them up amazingly careful, and two of ‘em edgeways  —  d  —  e, a fly would have knocked them down.”

“Mew,” said a great cat, emerging from under a chair.

“Curse you, there you are,” said the admiral. “Put out the light, put out the light; here we’re illuminating the whole house for nothing.”

With, a click went the darkening slide over the lantern, and all was obscurity.

At that instant a shrill, clear whistle came from the garden.

CHAPTER LVIII.

THE ARRIVAL OF JACK PRINGLE.  —  MIDNIGHT AND THE VAMPYRE.  —  THE MYSTERIOUS HAT.

“Bless me! what is that?” said Mr. Chillingworth; “what a very singular sound.”

“Hold your noise,” said the admiral; “did you never hear that before?”

“No; how should I?”

“Lor, bless the ignorance of some people, that’s a boatswain’s call.”

“Oh, it is,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “is he going to call again?”

“D  —    —  e, I tell ye it’s a boatswain’s call.”

“Well, then, d  —    —  e, if it comes to that,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “what does he call here for?”

The admiral disdained an answer; but demanding the lantern, he opened it, so that there was a sufficient glimmering of light to guide him, and then walked from the room towards the front door of the Hall.

He asked no questions before he opened it, because, no doubt, the signal was preconcerted; and Jack Pringle, for it was he indeed who had arrived, at once walked in, and the admiral barred the door with the same precision with which it was before secured.

“Well, Jack,” he said, “did you see anybody?”

“Ay, ay, sir,” said Jack.

“Why, ye don’t mean that  —  where?”

“Where I bought the grub; a woman  —  ”

“D  —    —  e, you’re a fool, Jack.”

“You’re another.”

“Hilloa, ye scoundrel, what d’ye mean by talking to me in that way? is this your respect for your superiors?”

“Ship’s been paid off long ago,” said Jack, “and I ain’t got no superiors. I ain’t a marine or a Frenchman.”

“Why, you’re drunk.”

“I know it; put that in your eye.”

“There’s a scoundrel. Why, you know-nothing-lubber, didn’t I tell you to be careful, and that everything depended upon secrecy and caution? and didn’t I tell you, above all this, to avoid drink?”

“To be sure you did.”

“And yet you come here like a rum cask.”

“Yes; now you’ve had your say, what then?”

“You’d better leave him alone,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “it’s no use arguing with a drunken man.”

“Harkye, admiral,” said Jack, steadying himself as well as he could. “I’ve put up with you a precious long while, but I won’t no longer; you’re so drunk, now, that you keeping bobbing up and down like the mizen gaff in a storm  —  that’s my opinion  —  tol de rol.”

“Let him alone, let him alone,” urged Mr. Chillingworth.

“The villain,” said the admiral; “he’s enough to ruin everything; now, who would have thought that? but it’s always been the way with him for a matter of twenty years  —  he never had any judgment in his drink. When it was all smooth sailing, and nothing to do, and the fellow might have got an extra drop on board, which nobody would have cared for, he’s as sober as a judge; but, whenever there’s anything to do, that wants a little cleverness, confound him, he ships rum enough to float a seventy-four.”

“Are you going to stand anything to drink,” said Jack, “my old buffer? Do you recollect where you got your knob scuttled off Beyrout  —  how you fell on your latter end and tried to recollect your church cateckis, you old brute?  —  I’s ashamed of you. Do you recollect the brown girl you bought for thirteen bob and a tanner, at the blessed Society Islands, and sold her again for a dollar, to a nigger seven feet two, in his natural pumps? you’re a nice article, you is, to talk of marines and swabs, and shore-going lubbers, blow yer. Do you recollect the little Frenchman that told ye he’d pull your blessed nose, and I advised you to soap it? do you recollect Sall at Spithead, as you got in at a port hole of the state cabin, all but her behind?”

“Death and the devil!” said the admiral, breaking from the grasp of Mr. Chillingworth.

“Ay,” said Jack, “you’ll come to ‘em both one of these days, old cock, and no mistake.”

“I’ll have his life, I’ll have his life,” roared the admiral.

“Nay, nay, sir,” said Mr. Chillingworth, catching the admiral round the waist. “My dear sir, recollect, now, if I may venture to advise you, Admiral Bell, there’s a lot of that fiery hollands you know, in the next room; set firm down to that, and finish him off. I’ll warrant him, he’ll be quiet enough.”

“What’s that you say?” cried Jack  —  ”hollands!  —  who’s got any?  —  next to rum and Elizabeth Baker, if I has an affection, it’s hollands.”

“Jack!” said the admiral.

“Ay, ay, sir!” said Jack, instinctively.

“Come this way.”

Jack staggered after him, and they all reached the room where the admiral and Mr. Chillingworth had been sitting before the alarm.

“There!” said the admiral, putting the light upon the table, and pointing to the bottle; “what do you think of that?”

“I never thinks under such circumstances,” said Jack. “Here’s to the wooden walls of old England!”

He seized the bottle, and, putting its neck into his mouth, for a few moments nothing was heard but a gurgling sound of the liquor passing down his throat; his head went further and further back, until, at last, over he went, chair and bottle and all, and lay in a helpless state of intoxication on the floor.

“So far, so good,” said the admiral. “He’s out of the way, at all events.”

“I’ll just loosen his neckcloth,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “and then we’ll go and sit somewhere else; and I should recommend that, if anywhere, we take up our station in that chamber, once Flora’s, where the mysterious panelled portrait hangs, that bears so strong a resemblance to Varney, the vampyre.”

“Hush!” said the admiral. “What’s that?”

They listened for a moment intently; and then, distinctly, upon the gravel path outside the window, they heard a footstep, as if some person were walking along, not altogether heedlessly, but yet without any very great amount of caution or attention to the noise he might make.

“Hist!” said the doctor. “Not a word. They come.”

“What do you say they for?” said the admiral.

“Because something seems to whisper me that Mr. Marchdale knows more of Varney, the vampyre, than ever he has chosen to reveal. Put out the light.”

“Yes, yes  —  that’ll do. The moon has risen; see how it streams through the chinks of the shutters.”

“No, no  —  it’s not in that direction, or our light would have betrayed us. Do you not see the beams come from that half glass-door leading to the greenhouse?”

“Yes; and there’s the footstep again, or another.”

Tramp, tramp came a footfall again upon the gravel path, and, as before, died away upon their listening ears.

“What do you say now,” said Mr. Chillingworth  —  ”are there not two?”

“If they were a dozen,” said the admiral, “although we have lost one of our force, I would tackle them. Let’s creep on through the rooms in the direction the footsteps went.”

“My life on it,” said Mr. Chillingworth as they left the apartment, “if this be Varney, he makes for that apartment where Flora slept, and which he knows how to get admission to. I’ve studied the house well, admiral, and to get to that window any one from here outside must take a considerable round. Come on  —  we shall be beforehand.”

“A good idea  —  a good idea. Be it so.”

Just allowing themselves sufficient light to guide them on the way from the lantern, they hurried on with as much precipitation as the intricacies of the passage would allow, nor halted till they had reached the chamber were hung the portrait which bore so striking and remarkable a likeness to Varney, the vampyre.

They left the lamp outside the door, so that not even a straggling beam from it could betray that there were persons on the watch; and then, as quietly as foot could fall, they took up their station among the hangings of the antique bedstead, which has been before alluded to in this work as a remarkable piece of furniture appertaining to that apartment.

“Do you think,” said the admiral, “we’ve distanced them?”

“Certainly we have. It’s unlucky that the blind of the window is down.”

“Is it? By Heaven, there’s a d  —    —  d strange-looking shadow creeping over it.”

Mr. Chillingworth looked almost with suspended breath. Even he could not altogether get rid of a tremulous feeling, as he saw that the shadow of a human form, apparently of very large dimensions, was on the outside, with the arms spread out, as if feeling for some means of opening the window.

It would have been easy now to have fired one of the pistols direct upon the figure; but, somehow or another, both the admiral and Mr. Chillingworth shrank from that course, and they felt much rather inclined to capture whoever might make his appearance, only using their pistols as a last resource, than gratuitously and at once to resort to violence.

“Who should you say that was?” whispered the admiral.

“Varney, the vampyre.”

“D  —    —  e, he’s ill-looking and big enough for anything  —  there’s a noise!”

There was a strange cracking sound at the window, as if a pane of glass was being very stealthily and quietly broken; and then the blind was agitated slightly, confusing much the shadow that was cast upon it, as if the hand of some person was introduced for the purpose of effecting a complete entrance into the apartment.