Rafts also must be made, though there was short time for building them.

The crew worked with a will. Had they been wearied out with pumping they might have given in. They had good reason now for working hard.

The ship laboured heavily. The officers and many of the older seamen knew well, from the slow heavy movements, that she had not long to float. The carpenter by another report confirmed their fears. Harry, with other seamen, was engaged in making a raft on the quarter-deck. It was smaller than the rest, and nearly completed. The captain's voice was again heard ordering the boats to be lowered without delay. While the men were engaged in obeying the order the stern of the frigate seemed to lift up. Down sank the bows, and with one awful plunge the proud frigate rushed downward into the ocean depths. A wild cry arose, such as even the bravest utter in a moment of extreme peril. Jacob and Harry leaped on the small raft. The grey dawn had just before broke.

Some of the larger rafts, not yet completed, were sucked down with the sinking ship. Several boats suffered the same fate. Others were swamped. The small raft was whirled round and round, a few men clinging to it, Harry and Jacob among them keeping their hold. Here and there were despairing faces gazing their last at the sky ere they sank beneath the water. Now and then an arm was seen uplifted grasping at air.

Broken spars and planks escaped from the unfinished rafts, drowning men clinging to them, though many of those who clung there soon dropped off.

Harry and Jacob had helped three shipmates to climb up on to the raft.

Not far off a man was struggling to gain a spar which floated near.

Even by that light he was seen to be an officer.

"It's the captain!" cried Harry; "I must save him."

Springing from the raft, he swam out towards the captain. The officer was close to a spar, but his hand failed to clutch it, and he sank.

Harry dived rapidly. His hand grasped the captain's collar, and with an upward stroke he returned to the surface. He looked around. The spar was not an arm's length from him. Placing the captain across it, he pushed it towards the raft. The captain was saved from immediate death.

But what prospect had those poor fellows, on that small raft out on the stormy ocean, of being saved? No sail was in sight. One boat only had escaped destruction. She was already at some distance. Those in her did not perceive the raft. Already, probably, she was overloaded. Soon a sail was hoisted and she stood away to the westward. The saddest sight of all was to see the poor fellows clinging to the pieces of wreck one by one dropping off. The sun rose, the mist cleared away. Six men on the raft alone remained on the waste of waters.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

A NEW CLAIMANT FOR STANMORE.

Colonel Everard lay on his bed propped up with pillows. The window was open. He gazed forth over the green lawn, the bright blue sea and the Isle of Wight smiling in the distance. Three persons were in the room.

Near his head stood his faithful attendant and old companion-in-arms; on the other side was his sister. Tears were in her eyes, while Mabel stood near the foot of the bed with her hands clasped, gazing on that venerated countenance. The sand of life was ebbing fast, a few grains alone remained.

"Paul, we have fought together. We have served our country well when we had youth and strength," whispered the old officer, holding the hand of his faithful attendant. "You don't forget that day when our brave general fell. Ere he died he heard that the enemy were put to flight, the victory won. Sister, he died happy, and so do I; for I may say with all humbleness, I have fought the good fight. I have tried to do my duty, but I trust in One mighty to save." Then returning to old recollections, "You remember that day, Paul; that battle, the most glorious of our many fields. And now, Paul, we shall never fight again.

You must look after these two here, sister Ann and my sweet Mabel.

They want a trustworthy protector. I never knew you to fail me, Paul."

His voice as he spoke was sinking lower and lower. A few more words he spoke expressive of the Christian's hope. Then his hands relaxed their grasp, and those who watched him knew that the n.o.ble old man was dead.

The colonel's will was opened. By his express desire no funeral pomp attended him to the grave. Paul, with eight of his older tenants, simple cottagers, several of whom had been soldiers, bore his coffin.

Seldom, however, has a longer line of mourners attended a plume-bedecked hea.r.s.e than than which followed on foot the remains of Colonel Everard.

Not only did all the inhabitants of Lynderton join the procession, but vast numbers of persons from the surrounding districts came to show their respect to the memory of one who had so long dwelt among them, and whose many virtues had won their love.

The estates were entailed on the next heir-at-law, while such property as the colonel could leave was given to his well-beloved sister, Madam Everard.

He had not, however, been a saving man; indeed, the expenses of his position had been considerable, and the sum was but small. Mabel and her aunt were to remain in possession of Stanmore Park till the return of Captain Everard from sea.

The funeral was over, and once more the household settled down into their usual ways. Paul was more active than ever: his eye was everywhere, feeling that he was obeying his master's behests in watching over the interests of the captain and his daughter.

The same coach which a few months before had brought Harry Tryon southward, had now among its pa.s.sengers no less a person than Mr. Silas Sleech. He was in deep mourning--a proper respect to the memory of his late uncle, Colonel Everard. Yet his countenance bore no signs of grief. On the contrary, some pleasant thoughts seemed to occupy his mind, as he frequently rubbed his hands together and smiled complacently.

He was received with cordiality by his respected parent, the elder Mr.

Sleech, though the rest of the family, consisting of several brothers and four fair sisters, welcomed him apparently with less affection.

Silas had brought but little luggage, but he held a tin case of considerable size which he had never allowed to quit his hand. The family greetings over, he and his father retired to the inner office.

With intense interest they examined the contents of the case.

"It's all right, father, I tell you," exclaimed Silas. "Stanmore is ours, as sure as fate. My mother was the elder sister next to the colonel, and the captain's father never had any marriage lines to show.

I tell you the captain has no more right to the name of Everard than old Pike the mace-bearer. If the captain has a certificate, where is it?

Let him show it; but he has not; and that little jade Mabel, who looks so proudly down upon me especially, must now be brought down a peg or two herself. She will be humble enough before long, or I am mistaken."

"Silas, you ought to be Lord Chancellor," exclaimed his father; "you have managed this affair with wonderful acuteness and judgment. I always thought there was a screw loose about Tom Everard's foreign marriage, his wife dying suddenly, and he coming home with a small baby and a strange nurse, who could not speak a word of English or tell anybody what had happened. However, now we have got the law on our side, the sooner we take possession of our rights the better. You and I will see to that to-morrow. We will behave handsomely to Madam Everard.

Indeed, I rather suspect that she won't be so badly off, and whatever she has will go to Mabel, so there's no use falling out too much with them. However, if your mother's husband and children ought to be at Stanmore, why to Stanmore we will go, so that is settled."

"Don't tell the rest of them, though, father," said Silas. "They will be blabbing it out, and Madam Everard will be getting wind of it, and we shan't have the pleasure of giving them the little surprise I long for; come, you must not baulk me in that, daddy. A Lord Chancellor knows what's what, and if I don't kick up a pretty shindy in Stanmore Park before long, my name's not Silas Sleech."

Madam Everard and niece were seated in the study after breakfast. It had been the colonel's sitting-room, and they occupied it with fond affection, no one, however, making use of his arm-chair. It seemed as if his spirit was often there, come down from the realms of the blest, while they talked of him and their lost Lucy.

The servant entered, and Madam Everard heard with no small dissatisfaction the names of her little-esteemed brother-in-law and his eldest son. They entered the room not with quite so much confidence as might have been expected.

"Why, Ann, you look somewhat solemn this fine morning," observed the elder, as he took a seat, not very close to Madam Everard. Silas drew somewhat nearer to Mabel, but rising, she placed herself on the sofa near her aunt, and continued the embroidery at which she was working, scarcely looking up. The elder Sleech turned his hat about several times. He did not look as if he felt himself a member of the Everard family.

Silas had more impudence than his father, and this enabled him to overcome a certain feeling which would intrude, in spite of his a.s.sumed confidence.

"I have come about business, Ann," at last said Mr. Sleech the elder, "Silas and I. We wish to do everything pleasant and to give no annoyance; but you must know, Ann, when your elder sister married me, she married the family lawyer that was. You have always supposed that Tom Everard--the captain's father--had married abroad; at all events the captain was brought home as a baby by Tom, who said he was his lawful child. Now it turns out that either Tom was mistaken, or else he told a fib--I don't like to use strong language. If a man cannot prove his marriage he is not married; that's what the law says. Now Tom to his death never had any marriage certificate to exhibit. It follows, therefore, in the eye of the law, that he was not married, and so you see your sister Jane became heir-at-law of her late brother, and I, as her representative, am--or rather my son Silas is--the rightful possessor of Stanmore Park. It's as clear as a pike-staff, Ann, and so there's no use making any ado about it."

While Mr. Sleech, senior, was speaking, Madam Everard had maintained a perfect composure. Poor Mabel's colour came and went. She felt a choking sensation in her throat. Not for herself did she care, she was thinking of her gallant father, away from home fighting his country's battles--when he returned to find himself disinherited. It would be a grievous blow. She felt, too, that she could no longer, when she gave her hand, endow her husband with the wealth she thought she should value more for his sake than for her own.

"You say you called on a matter of business," said Madam Everard, with becoming dignity. "As a man of business we will treat you. I will send for Mr. Wallace, my late brother's solicitor, and should he be satisfied that you are the rightful owner of Stanmore, and that Captain Everard has no claim on it, my niece and I will quit the house. Till then I must request you to leave us at peace. You must be aware that the information you bring us is not pleasant."

Mabel kept her lips pressed together. She dared not trust her voice, she simply bowed her a.s.sent to her aunt's request.

"Well, well, Ann, I am not surprised that you are annoyed," said Mr.

Sleech, rising from his seat; "that is but natural. Of course, we are gentlemen, and wish to treat you as ladies. We will just take a look round the park and grounds. I have a notion a good many trees should be cut down. The colonel was over-squeamish about felling timber; and Mabel, my dear, I wish you would not look so glum. Perhaps if you play your cards well, you may still be mistress of Stanmore, eh? Silas, you rogue, you used to admire your pretty little cousin."

Silas rolled his round eyes and gave a glance at Mabel which she, at least, thought bespoke very little affection, for she turned a way from him with a feeling of loathing, not deigning to make any remark.

"You know your way," said Madam Everard; "you must do as you think fit.

We cannot interfere."

Without putting out her hand, she gave a stately bow to her brother-in-law and nephew. A chuckle reached her ears as the door closed behind them.

"Jane, Jane, what have you brought upon us?" she exclaimed, apostrophising her deceased sister.

The marriage had been a hateful one from the first. Old Sleech had, even as a young man, been almost as odious as his son, and no one could account for Jane Everard's infatuation and bad taste when she insisted on marrying him.

Madam Everard rang the bell, and begged that Paul Gauntlett would come to her. He obeyed the summons, and was soon afterwards trotting off on the horse with which he always accompanied the colonel to Lynderton.

Mr. Wallace was at home, and very quickly made his appearance at Stanmore, escaping an encounter with the Sleeches, who were still making their round of the park, notching trees which they agreed might come down to advantage and clear a pretty penny.

Mr. Wallace heard Madam Everard's statement with a grave face.

"I do not see much that is hopeful about it, but we will try what the law can do. If the law decides that Captain Everard is not the heir, we have no help for it. I will look over all the deeds deposited with me, but to my recollection I have no certificate or copy of certificate of Mr. Tom Everard's marriage. He must have been very young at the time, at all events. An older man would probably have taken more care of so important a doc.u.ment. However, I will see Mr. Sleech, and endeavour to persuade him that he cannot justly at present push his claims. We must proceed cautiously, for although you are in possession, I fear that he can prove himself to be heir-at-law."

Mr. Wallace had left the house some time before the Sleeches returned.

They came in by the garden entrance, and walked without ceremony into the study, where Mabel and her aunt were still sitting.

"Well, we have had a good look round the grounds, Ann, and I have come to the conclusion that the colonel did not make half as much of the property as he might have done. Why, I can tell you, eight thousand pounds' worth of timber might be cut down--Silas says ten thousand, but I think that he is a little over the mark--without doing any harm to the place, and there are no end of improvements he and I have been proposing."

"No one must venture to cut down timber on this property without the leave of my nephew, the captain," said Madam Everard, drawing herself up.