Part 11

"Last night," was the answer, "or, rather, I should say this morning, since it was fully one o'clock when I got home. Everybody was aroused from sleep by my arrival; and the old folks insisted upon dressing and coming down to see me at once. All the little ones, too, came out of their nests to see the long-absent Harry. Thus, it was nearly three o'clock before I got a chance of retiring to my chamber, by which time the excitement of seeing so many loved ones banished from me all weariness and inclination to sleep. And this brings me to the cause of my so early visit to you."

"In the delight of seeing you," said John, "I had forgotten that subject entirely."

"When I entered my chamber," continued Henry Marston, "I found upon the floor, directly in front of the door by which I had come in, this singular and enigmatical card, enclosed in an envelope directed to my address--`Captain Henry Marston, Blue Oldfields'--the name of my father's place, you know. Remembering your fondness for adventure--we are alike in that respect, in truth--I came over here at once, to ask your assistance in developing the mystery. There is no time for delays, you see, as to-day is the twenty-first."

The young sailor handed to his friend a card, on which was written, in letters imitating print, these words:

_May 21st, 1817, at 5:12 a.m_. At the Spout. _The number is_ *eight*. Be *Prompt*--*Be True*. _Forget not the Pass_. "A F E."

"What do you want to do?" asked John, after reading the words on the card. "I can make but little meaning out of this."

"Why, of course," replied Marston, "I want you to go with me to this rendezvous. I am determined to find out the mystery. You see, there will be eight there--seven besides myself; at any rate, that is what I understand the card to mean. If anything be wrong, I can scarcely hope to contend successfully against seven men. At an hour so early, few upon whom I could call for help will be about--probably not one at that lonely place. Yet I am determined, at all hazards, to solve the mystery. If you think there is too much risk in the affair, John, I will go by myself."

"As to that matter," said John, "you know that I don't care about the risk, as you call it; so that if you are determined to go I will accompany you. But the affair may be only a joke; and I don't wish to do anything that will make me the subject of laughter."

"It may be a joke to try my courage," observed Marston. "In any view of the case," he continued, after a pause, "I am determined to make the venture."

"And I shall accompany you," said John. "The place designated, I suppose, is the Spout on Saint Leonard's Creek?"

"Of course it is," was the answer. "There is no other place in this neighbourhood called the Spout."

"But my going with you," said John, reflectively, "may be the very cause of danger to you, since I have received no card of invitation. By the way, what is that piece of paper on the floor behind you near the door. Bless my life!" he continued, picking up the paper; "it is addressed to me, and contains, word for word, a card like the one addressed to you."

"You will go now, I suppose, unhesitatingly," said Captain Marston.

"Certainly," was the reply. "But I had better awaken one of the servants, and leave a message for the family."

"There is no use in doing that," said Henry. "I left no message at home. We shall be back, in all probability, by the time they are up. Have you not a pair of pistols? I remember that we each bought, in Baltimore, a pair precisely alike, during my last visit home. We should go well armed, and in that condition, I think, as we are both good shots, and not at all nervous, that we shall be very nearly, if not quite, a match for the other six."

"My pistols," answered young Coe, "are here on the table, and ready for use. I loaded them immediately on my return from a drum-fishing excursion last night, on account of an adventure which befell me on my way home. This card may have something to do with that adventure."

"Ah! What is that adventure to which you refer!" asked Captain Marston, with much expression of interest.

While young Coe was relating to his friend the incidents of the night, he was also engaged in dressing. During the process of dressing, while young Coe's eyes were turned for a moment or two away from Marston, the latter took up the pistols which had been lying upon the table, and placed them in his pockets, and immediately afterwards put upon the table in their place another pair of pistols which were precisely similar in appearance to the former, and which he had withdrawn from another pair of pockets in his dress.

"What befell you last night," remarked the captain, when John had concluded his narrative, "can have nothing to do with the present affair, because they could not have recognised you under the circumstances; and, besides, I should not have received a card as well as you, since I had nothing to do with that adventure."

"True," replied John. "Yet I may have been recognised; who knows but that one or more persons of this neighbourhood who knows me are engaged in this smuggling business, and were there disguised? Moreover, the card sent to you also may be intended to put me off my guard."

"If you feel any uneasiness about the matter," said Captain Marston, "you had better, perhaps, not go. I shall go, however, at all risks."

"Oh!" exclaimed John, in an easy tone; "my thinking the affair a plot will not prevent me from trying to discover its meaning. If it be a trap to catch me, that trap is well set; for what is more apt to draw one on to adventure than mystery, especially when that mystery is awaited on by apparent peril? I am determined to solve the riddle, let it be attended by what danger it may be."

"Come, then," said the captain, "are you ready? If so, let us go at once. Time is pressing."

The two men then left the house, and proceeded to the stable, where John soon saddled two horses for the ride. Mounting, they rode slowly, for fear of disturbing the sleep of the household, down a land bordered with old cherry-trees, which led from the dwelling at Millmont to the public road at the distance of a few hundred yards; but on gaining this road their horses were urged to a fast gallop.

The daylight was now shining broad and bright, although there was nearly half an hour to sunrise. The sky was softly blue, and clear of clouds, save a few light and fleecy ones, which sailed slowly along, seemingly far away in the depths of ether. "A dewy freshness filled the air," which was cool and bracing, and made sweet by the fragrant breath of grasses and leaves, and of the humble wild flowers which grew on either side of the road.

The stimulating character of the atmosphere, and the elastic motion of their steeds, stirred the blood of the young men to a more, rapid circulation, and aroused them to a full enjoyment of the adventure in which they were engaged.

"What a strange and inexpressible pleasure there is in danger!" said John. "There seems to me to be no enjoyment in life, unless there be obstacles to overcome, and perils to meet."

"I agree with you," said Captain Marston. "But it requires caution as well as courage to win for us in the battle of life. Has it occurred to you that we have not the password to admit us to the rendezvous?"

"No," replied John. "But what is the use of it? We have received cards of invitation, and we know the place and hour of meeting."

"So we do," said Marston; "yet a want of knowledge of this password may give us inconvenience as well as trouble."

"Probably," suggested Coe, "the letters `A F E' are the password."

"But," objected Captain Marston, "perhaps they are only the initials of it; and in that case, the question arises, what do they stand for? It is well to be armed against all contingencies."

"True," consented John. "But I am sure I have no idea what they can mean. Let me think for a minute or two."

"Don't you remember," asked Marston, "the English story, which we read together when we were schoolboys, about a mysterious secret society? Can you recollect the initials of their password?"

"Yes," was the ready reply; "they are `O F A--A F O,' which, being interpreted, mean `One for All, All for One.' Let me see! `A F E.' All for each. I wonder if that is not the password in this case?"

"Very probable," assented Marston. "If necessary, let us try it, at all events."

This proposition was agreed to. As the distance between Millmont and the Spout, over a road which traversed, in rapidly succeeding alternations, fields and forests, hills and plains, was fully nine miles, the two young men were obliged to put their horses to a tolerably high speed to reach the place of their destination in time. But little more conversation passed between them, therefore, until they arrived at the head of the ravine, down which their road led to the shore of Saint Leonard's Creek.

STORY TWO, CHAPTER FOUR.

AT THE SPOUT.

*Ossario*. Stand, ho! Who are you? *Antonio*. We are true men, sir. *Ossario*. True men, give the word--and pass. _Old Play_.

*Walter*. Only a pleasant jest, I do assure you. _The borry Joke_.

When the two men descended the ravine leading to the shore, the sun was half an hour above the horizon. Before they left the mouth of the ravine, they dismounted, at the suggestion of Captain Marston, and fastened their horses to the drooping branches of a tree which grew by the side of the road. The animals were, in this situation, out of sight of the place of rendezvous. The companions having thus made their horses secure, advanced to the shore.

The novelist, and even the poet, could find no lovelier locality, ready created for the scenes of fancied grief and pleasures, than that contained within lines embracing Saint Leonard's Creek and its immediate adjuncts. Not only is the stream itself--especially in the fair expanse near its junction with the river, which is now supposed to lie glowing and dimpling in the morning sunshines with varying lights and shadows, before the reader's mental eyes--remarkably beautiful; but all around it--every bill and dale, every field and grove, every jutting promontory and retiring cove--partakes of the same character of pre-eminent loveliness.

On the southern side of the expanse mentioned is a broad beach of white sand. From the side of a cliff which towers above this beach flows a fountain of water, very pure, clear, and cold, and equally abundant at all seasons of the year. This fountain is known throughout a large district of surrounding country as the Spout, and is some fifty yards from the spot where the road, leading down the ravine before-mentioned, enters upon the sands.

Just as Captain Marston and John Coe stepped upon the shore, and were turning to the left hand to seek the fountain, a short and stout man, about forty years of age, with long, curling locks of reddish-brown hair, and a face very darkly tanned by sun and breeze, and, probably, by battle, too--to judge by the marks upon his countenance--presented himself before them.

"Stand!" exclaimed this individual, planting himself directly in front of the two young men, and presenting a cocked pistol in each hand.

"We'll see about that," said John Coe, sternly, drawing a pistol also.

But Captain Marston placed a hand upon the arm of the angry young man.

"Don't be so fast, John," he said. "Don't you see the twinkle in the fellow's eyes? I am disposed to believe that this is but a jest after all. What do you want?" he continued, addressing the sailor.

"No one can go beyond this spot," answered the stranger, "without giving the password."

"A F E?" said Captain Marston, interrogatively.

"There seems to be something in that," remarked the sailor; "but it will not answer."

"How will this answer?" asked the captain. "`All for Each?'"

"All right," was the reply; "pass, gentlemen."

As the two young men walked forward, they were followed by the sailor, who still held the two pistols in his hands.

On arriving in front of the Spout, they found a beautiful row-boat, the bow of which just touched the shore. It was manned by four sturdy seamen, whose hands rested upon their oars, which were ready placed in their rowlocks. A boy, apparently between fifteen and sixteen years of age, in straw hat and light blue trousers and jacket, occupied the stern seat. This last-mentioned person was remarkably handsome; his face was beautifully oval in its shape; its complexion was a pale brunette (if I may use the phrase), there being in it no tinge of red. His form was slender and graceful; his large, soft black eyes had a thoughtful, or rather a dreamy expression, and masses of jet-black curls hung down below his shoulders.

"Jump aboard, gentlemen," said the sailor in fancy dress; "the time is fully arrived, and we shall be expected as soon as we can make the distance. If we don't go at once, somebody will be disappointed."

"A moment, if you please, sir," said John, in a sarcastic tone and manner, and with a darkening expression of face. "May I claim the honour of knowing your name?"

"Certainly, sir," was the answer, accompanied by a mock-ceremonious bow, which did not tend to cool the rising wrath of young Coe. "My name is William Brown, better known as Billy Bowsprit. This latter name may seem, unaccompanied by a proper explanation, to derogate from the dignity of the fair position which I occupy in maritime society, and with which, by-the-bye, I will presently make you acquainted. But it originated in what was, in fact, a compliment to my wit and my other good qualities. A highly intelligent gentleman, of French inclinations--having probably been born of such a disposition, seeing that he was a native of Paris--once did me the honour, on account of some slight jocular remark which fell from me in a social hour, of saying that I was a _beau esprit_. The rude, unlettered sailors," he waved a hand towards those in the row-boat, "have, in their ignorance, manufactured out of this compliment the absurd name of Bowsprit. I submit to the _soubriquet_, partly because those who use it do not know any better, but mainly because it intimates a just compliment, seeing that, as the bowsprit is in advance of the ship, so do I take the lead of all on shipboard in all affairs where either sagacity or boldness is required."

"Well, Mr Brown," began young Coe--

"Allow me, if you please, sir," said Bowsprit, interrupting him, and making at the same time a low and apologetic bow; "I have not yet finished the catalogue of myself, a desire to become acquainted with which was intimated in your polite and very flattering inquiry. Permit me to add, to what I have already said, that I fill the honourable post of first-mate on board of as beautiful a little craft as eye was ever blessed with seeing."

The reader will, perhaps, be surprised at the great apparent improvement in the language of Billy Bowsprit since his first introduction in the second chapter. The fact is, that individual had received what is called a good ordinary education, and prided himself upon his ability to talk in either good English, or in what he styled "sailors' lingo."

"Well, Mr Brown, better known as Billy Bowsprit," said John Coe, in a tone of voice expressive of both anger and resolution, as soon as the voluble sailor gave him an opportunity of speaking, "I wish you to know that I do not allow myself to be dealt with in this summary manner. I shall return home, and any man who interferes with me will do so at his imminent peril."

Saying this, he drew both of his pistols, setting the hammers with his thumbs in the act of drawing them from his pockets.

Billy Bowsprit raised the pistol which was in his right hand, and was about to pull the trigger, when at a slight and rapid sign from Captain Marston, who stood a little in the rear of young Coe, he suddenly pointed the muzzles of both pistols towards the ground. At the same moment the captain drew both of his pistols also, and placed himself by the side of John.

"Come," he said, addressing Billy Bowsprit in a really stern voice, "if this is a jest--as I think it is--we have had enough of it. Tell us what you want, and what the whole of this singular affair means."

"Why, sir," replied the seaman, in a somewhat crestfallen tone, "no harm has been meant to either of you all the while; and if this young gentleman," looking at John, "hadn't been quite so fiery, everything would have been explained to you some time ago. The fact is, my captain is an old acquaintance of both of you; he hasn't seen either of you for years, and so is very anxious to see you both, if only for a short time. He wants you to come and take breakfast with him this morning. He had business with the schooner up the river here as far as Benedict, to land a cargo of goods. He has to get to Baltimore as soon as possible, but was determined to see you both first. So he landed me early yesterday morning, on this side of the river, opposite Benedict, to carry a message to you. But not knowing the latitude and longitude of that part of the country, I was obliged to take bearings and to make observations so often, that I did not arrive in your neighbourhood till after midnight; and I did not of course like to waken up families who were strangers to me at such a time of night. The notion about the cards was one of my own--a kind of experiment. I know how much curiosity there is in the world; and I felt certain, therefore, of seeing you two gentlemen here this morning."

"Thank you for the compliment, Mr Bowlegs--I beg your pardon-- Bowsprit," said the captain. "You seem to be somewhat of a philosopher; you carry out a plan with so much coolness, so much self-possession, beings always on your guard neither to act nor to speak hastily or unadvisedly."

There was evidently sarcasm, if not irony, in the captain's remarks.

The sailor bowed merely; he seemed to be, to use a common expression, "struck dumb."

Young Coe laughed heartily. Yet he must doubtless have felt somewhat abashed at the conviction that Marston's course of treating the affair as a farce was decidedly more successful than his own, of viewing it as a melodrama.

There was silence for a minute or two, during which all the pistols which had been drawn were put out of sight. At length the stillness was broken by a question from John.

"How did you manage to get your card or note into my room?" he asked of the sailor.

"Allow me to keep that secret to myself," answered Billy Bowsprit, with a smile, holding out in his hand at the same time, however, several skeleton keys. "But you are not to suppose, Mr Coe, that these keys show that I have any bad habits; I have never used them except in such innocent ventures as the present."

John took the skeleton keys in his hand; he had never seen such instruments before.

"I don't think," he remarked, returning the keys, "that any one of those could possibly unlock my outer door."

"One must understand the use of them," replied Billy Bowsprit. "I have others, however."

"How did you so readily make your way to this point!" asked Captain Marston of Billy Bowsprit.

"Why, sir," was the reply, "I have been over this road before, many years ago now. On that occasion, I was for a short time at the houses of both your father and Mr Coe. I came here because this was the place where this boat here was to meet you two gentlemen and myself."

"Who is this friend of ours who wants to see us, Mr Bowsprit--I mean Mr Brown?" asked John.

"I beg your pardon, sir," was the answer. "My captain particularly ordered me not to tell you; he wanted, he said, to give you a pleasant surprise."

"What do you say, John?" asked Captain Marston. "Shall we accept the invitation of this unknown friend?"

"If we knew what to do with our horses," said John, "and I could get a note home to tell them what has become of me, I should say `yes' at once."

"If that is all that is in the way, gentlemen," said Mr Brown, _alias_ Bowsprit, "get your notes ready at once. Here, Tom," he continued, addressing the youth who was sitting on the stern seat of the row-boat, "do you knew the way to Millmont and to Blue Oldfields?"

"If I don't, I can inquire for it, sir," answered the boy.

"Then, as soon as you get the notes which these gentlemen want you to deliver at their houses," said Bowsprit, "take their horses, which you will find just behind those trees, _there_," pointing, "where the road corners with the shore; and as soon as you can do so, deliver notes and horses to their proper addresses. You will then walk down to Drum Point, where we shall be by that time, and we will there take you aboard."

"Ay, ay, sir," said the boy.

While these directions were being given, Captain Marston had drawn a note-book and a couple of lead-pencils from his pocket. Tearing a blank leaf from the book, he handed that and one of the pencils to John. Using their hats as writing-desks, the two young men soon finished their notes and handed them to the boy, who immediately started on his mission.

The four men in the boat had been merely lookers-on and listeners in respect to what had been taking place on the shore.

When the boy took his departure, Captain Marston, John Coe, and Billy Bowsprit leaped into the boat.

"Will you steer, Captain Marston, if you please?" asked Bowsprit.

"With pleasure," answered the captain. "Then, if Mr Coe will take his seat with you at the stern," said the sailor, "I will take my place at the bow, and act as lookout."

The seats were taken, and the boat having been driven from the shore by one or two backward strokes of the oars, her head was turned down the creek. The supple rowers bending "with a will" to the elastic blades, the light craft fleetly bounded on her course over the glowing tide of Saint Leonard's, towards the broad Clearwater, which lay before them in the morning sunshine as ever bright and beautiful.

STORY TWO, CHAPTER FIVE.

ON BOARD THE SCHOONER.

*Sebastian*. How are you, friends? I'm very glad to see you. _As You Will_.

*Toby*. Who are these men, sir? *Wily Will*. They're travellers only. _The Masquerade_.

The row-boats, carrying John, Captain Harry Marston, Billy Bowsprit, and the four seamen, leaving the mouth of Saint Leonard's Creek, entered upon that largest and fairest of the several lake-like expanses of the Clearwater--being six miles in length and three in width--which lies between Point Patience on the south-east, and Solitary Point on the north-west.

On gaining an offing sufficient to give the occupants of the boat a view commanding the whole expanse, only one vessel was in sight. This was a graceful little schooner, of about thirty tons burden, which lay at anchor on a part of the river called the Flats, situate on the eastern side of the stream; she was in a position south-east of Otter Point, directly in front of Hungerford's Creek, and about a mile and a half from Point Patience. An easy row of three-quarters of an hour over the crystal-like waters, which were but slightly stirred by a slight wind, brought the boat from the Spout alongside of this schooner.

A vessel so small required no steps to ascend her sides, and the occupants of the row-boat soon leaped upon the deck. They were there met by a young man about five feet and a half in height, with blue eyes, light flaxen hair, and cheeks which, originally fair, were somewhat tanned by exposure to sun, wind, and weather. He was dressed in roundabout and pantaloons of light blue cloth, pumps, and light straw hat.