Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
"Pinking
you, sir?"
"Yes.
He wants to fight with cutlasses, or toasting-forks, d—n me, I don't know
exactly which, and then he must have a surgeon on the ground, for fear when he
pinks me I shouldn't slip my cable in a regular way, and he should be
blamed."
Jack
gave a long whistle, as he replied,—
"Going
to do it, sir?"
"I
don't know now what I'm going to do. Mind, Jack, mum is the word."
"Ay,
ay, sir."
"I'll
turn the matter over in my mind, and then decide upon what had best be done. If
he pinks me, I'll take d——d good care he don't pink Charles."
"No,
sir, don't let him do that. A
wamphigher
,
sir, ain't no good opponent to anybody. I never seed one afore, but it strikes
me as the best way to settle him, would be to shut him up in some little bit of
a cabin, and then smoke him with brimstone, sir."
"Well,
well, I'll consider, Jack, I'll consider. Something must be done, and that
quickly too. Zounds, here's Charles—what the deuce shall I say to him, by way
of an excuse, I wonder, for not arranging his affair with Varney? Hang me, if I
ain't taken aback now, and don't know where to place a hand."
THE LETTER TO CHARLES.—THE QUARREL.—THE ADMIRAL'S
NARRATIVE.—THE MIDNIGHT MEETING.
It was Charles
Holland who now advanced hurriedly to meet the admiral. The young man's manner
was anxious. He was evidently most intent upon knowing what answer could be
sent by Sir Francis Varney to his challenge.
"Uncle,"
he said, "tell me at once, will he meet me? You can talk of particulars
afterwards, but now tell me at once if he will meet me?"
"Why,
as to that," said the admiral, with a great deal of fidgetty hesitation,
"you see, I can't exactly say."
"Not
say!"
"No.
He's a very odd fish. Don't you think he's a very odd fish, Jack
Pringle'?"
"Ay,
ay, sir."
"There,
you hear, Charles, that Jack is of my opinion that your opponent is an odd
fish."
"But,
uncle, why trifle with my impatience thus? Have you seen Sir Francis
Varney?"
"Seen
him. Oh, yes."
"And
what did he say?"
"Why,
to tell the truth, my lad, I advise you not to fight with him at all."
"Uncle,
is this like you? This advice from you, to compromise my honour, after sending
a man a challenge?"
"D—n
it all, Jack, I don't know how to get out of it," said the admiral.
"I tell you what it is, Charles, he wants to fight with swords; and what
on earth is the use of your engaging with a fellow who has been practising at
his weapon for more than a hundred years?"
"Well,
uncle, if any one had told me that you would be terrified by this Sir Francis
Varney into advising me not to fight, I should have had no hesitation whatever
in saying such a thing was impossible."
"I
terrified?"
"Why,
you advise me not to meet this man, even after I have challenged him."
"Jack,"
said the admiral, "I can't carry it on, you see. I never could go on with
anything that was not as plain as an anchor, and quite straightforward. I must
just tell all that has occurred."
"Ay,
ay, sir. The best way."
"You
think so, Jack?"
"I
know it is, sir, always axing pardon for having a opinion at all, excepting
when it happens to be the same as yourn, sir."
"Hold
your tongue, you libellous villain! Now, listen to me, Charles. I got up a
scheme of my own."
Charles
gave a groan, for he had a very tolerable appreciation of his uncle's amount of
skill in getting up a scheme of any kind or description.
"Now
here am I," continued the admiral, "an old hulk, and not fit for use
anymore. What's the use of me, I should like to know? Well, that's settled. But
you are young and hearty, and have a long life before you. Why should you throw
away your life upon a lubberly vampyre?"
"I
begin to perceive now, uncle," said Charles, reproachfully, "why you,
with such apparent readiness, agreed to this duel taking place."
"Well,
I intended to fight the fellow myself, that's the long and short of it,
boy."
"How
could you treat me so?"
"No
nonsense, Charles. I tell you it was all in the family. I intended to fight him
myself. What was the odds whether I slipped my cable with his assistance, or in
the regular course a little after this? That's the way to argufy the subject;
so, as I tell you, I made up my mind to fight him myself."
Charles
looked despairingly, but said,—
"What
was the result?"
"Oh,
the result! D—n me, I suppose that's to come. The vagabond won't fight like a
Christian. He says he's quite willing to fight anybody that calls him out,
provided it's all regular."
"Well—well."
"And
he, being the party challenged—for he says he never himself challenges anybody,
as he is quite tired of it—must have his choice of weapons."
"He
is entitled to that; but it is generally understood now-a-days that pistols are
the weapons in use among gentlemen for such purposes."
"Ah,
but he won't understand any such thing, I tell you. He will fight with
swords."
"I
suppose he is, then, an adept at the use of the sword?"
"He
says he is."
"No
doubt—no doubt. I cannot blame a man for choosing, when he has the liberty of
choice, that weapon in the use of which he most particularly, from practice,
excels."
"Yes;
but if he be one half the swordsman he has had time enough, according to all
accounts, to be, what sort of chance have you with him?"
"Do
I hear you reasoning thus?"
"Yes,
to be sure you do. I have turned wonderfully prudent, you see: so I mean to
fight him myself, and mind, now, you have nothing whatever to do with it."
"An
effort of prudence that, certainly."
"Well,
didn't I say so?"
"Come—come,
uncle, this won't do. I have challenged Sir Francis Varney, and I must meet him
with any weapon he may, as the challenged party, choose to select. Besides, you
are not, I dare say, aware that I am a very good fencer, and probably stand as
fair a chance as Varney in a contest with swords."
"Indeed!"
"Yes,
uncle. I could not be so long on the continent as I have been without picking
up a good knowledge of the sword, which is so popular all over Germany."
"Humph!
but only consider, this d——d fellow is no less than a hundred and fifty years
old."
"I
care not."
"Yes,
but I do."
"Uncle,
uncle, I tell you I will fight with him; and if you do not arrange matters for
me so that I can have the meeting with this man, which I have myself sought,
and cannot, even if I wished, now recede from with honour, I must seek some
other less scrupulous friend to do so."
"Give
me an hour or two to think of it, Charles," said the admiral. "Don't
speak to any one else, but give me a little time. You shall have no cause of
complaint. Your honour cannot suffer in my hands."
"I
will wait your leisure, uncle; but remember that such affairs as these, when
once broached, had always better be concluded with all convenient
dispatch."
"I
know that, boy—I know that."
The
admiral walked away, and Charles, who really felt much fretted at the delay
which had taken place, returned to the house.
He
had not been there long, when a lad, who had been temporarily hired during the
morning by Henry to answer the gate, brought him a note, saying,—
"A
servant, sir, left this for you just now."
"For
me?" said Charles, as he glanced at the direction. "This is strange,
for I have no acquaintance about here. Does any one wait?"
"No,
sir."
The
note was properly directed to him, therefore Charles Holland at once opened it.
A glance at the bottom of the page told him that it came from his enemy, Sir
Francis Varney, and then he read it with much eagerness. It ran thus:—
"SIR,—Your
uncle, as he stated himself to be, Admiral Bell, was the bearer to me, as I
understood him this day, of a challenge from you. Owing to some unaccountable
hallucination of intellect, he seemed to imagine that I intended to set myself
up as a sort of animated target, for any one to shoot at who might have a fancy
so to do.
"According
to this eccentric view of the case, the admiral had the kindness to offer to
fight me first, when, should he not have the good fortune to put me out of the
world, you were to try your skill, doubtless.
"I
need scarcely say that I object to these family arrangements. You have
challenged me, and, fancying the offence sufficient, you defy me to mortal
combat. If, therefore, I fight with any one at all, it must be with you.
"You
will clearly understand me, sir, that I do not accuse you of being at all party
to this freak of intellect of your uncle's. He, no doubt, alone conceived it,
with a laudable desire on his part of serving you. If, however, to meet me, do
so to-night, in the middle of the park surrounding your own friends estate.
"There
is a pollard oak growing close to a small pool; you, no doubt, have noticed the
spot often. Meet me there, if you please, and any satisfaction you like I will
give you, at twelve o'clock this night.
"Come
alone, or you will not see me. It shall be at your own option entirely, to
convert the meeting into a hostile one or not. You need send me no answer to
this. If you are at the place I mention at the time I have named, well and
good. If you an not, I can only, if I please, imagine that you shrink from a
meeting with
"FRANCIS VARNEY."
Charles
Holland read this letter twice over carefully, and then folding it up, and
placing it in his pocket, he said,—
"Yes,
I will meet him; he may be assured that I will meet him. He shall find that I
do not shrink from Francis Varney In the name of honour, love, virtue, and
Heaven, I will meet this man, and it shall go hard with me but I will this
night wring from him the secret of what he really is. For the sake of her who
is so dear to me—for her sake, I will meet this man, or monster, be he what he
may."
It
would have been far more prudent had Charles informed Henry Bannerworth or
George of his determination to meet the vampyre that evening, but he did not do
so. Somehow he fancied it would be some reproach against his courage if he did
not go, and go alone, too, for he could not help suspecting that, from the
conduct of his uncle, Sir Francis Varney might have got up an opinion inimical
to his courage.
With
all the eager excitement of youth, there was nothing that arrayed itself to his
mind in such melancholy and uncomfortable colours as an imputation upon his
courage.
"I
will show this vampyre, if he be such," he said, "that I am not
afraid to meet him, and alone, too, at his own hour—at midnight, even when, if
his preternatural powers be of more avail to him than at any other time, he can
attempt, if he dare, to use them."
Charles
resolved upon going armed, and with the greatest care he loaded his pistols,
and placed them aside ready for action, when the time should come to set out to
meet the vampyre at the spot in the park which had been particularly alluded to
in his letter.
This
spot was perfectly well known to Charles; indeed, no one could be a single day
at Bannerworth Hall without noticing it, so prominent an object was that
pollard oak, standing, as it did, alone, with the beautiful green sward all
around it. Near to it was the pool which hid been mentioned, which was, in
reality, a fish-pond, and some little distance off commenced the thick
plantation, among the intricacies of which Sir Francis Varney, or the vampyre,
had been supposed to disappear, after the revivification of his body at the
full of the moon.
This
spot was in view of several of the windows of the house, so that if the night
should happen to be a very light one, and any of the inhabitants of the Hall
should happen to have the curiosity to look from those particular windows, no
doubt the meeting between Charles Holland and the vampyre would be seen.
This,
however, was a contingency which was nothing to Charles, whatever it might be
to Sir Francis Varney, and he scarcely at all considered it as worth
consideration. He felt more happy and comfortable now that everything seemed to
be definitively arranged by which he could come to some sort of explanation
with that mysterious being who had so effectually, as yet, succeeded in
destroying his peace of mind and his prospects of happiness.
"I
will this night force him to declare himself," thought Charles. "He
shall tell me who and what he really is, and by some means I will endeavour to
put an end to those frightful persecutions which Flora has suffered."
This
was a thought which considerably raised Charles's spirits, and when he sought
Flora again, which he now did, she was surprised to see him so much more easy
and composed in his mind, which was sufficiently shown by his manner, than he
had been but so short a time before.
"Charles,"
she said, "what has happened to give such an impetus to your
spirits?"
"Nothing,
dear Flora, nothing; but I have been endeavouring to throw from my mind all
gloomy thoughts, and to convince myself that in the future you and I, dearest,
may yet be very happy."
"Oh,
Charles, if I could but think so."
"Endeavour,
Flora, to think so. Remember how much our happiness is always in our own power,
Flora, and that, let fate do her worst, so long as we are true to each other,
we have a recompense for every ill."
"Oh,
indeed, Charles, that is a dear recompense."
"And
it is well that no force of circumstances short of death itself can divide
us."
"True,
Charles, true, and I am more than ever now bound to look upon you with a loving
heart; for have you not clung to me generously under circumstances which, if
any at all could have justified you in rending asunder every tie which bound us
together, surely would have done so most fully."