Rob of the Bowl: A Legend of St. Inigoe's. Vol. 1 (of 2), Page 4

  CHAPTER IV.

  Oft as the peasant wight impelled To these untrodden paths had been, As oft he, horror struck, beheld Things of unearthly shape and mien.

  GLENGONAR'S WASSAIL.

  The day was drawing near to a close, and the Proprietary thoughtfullypaced the hall. The wainscoted walls around him were hung with costlypaintings, mingled, not untastefully, with Indian war clubs, shields,bows and arrows, and other trophies won from the savage. There werealso the ponderous antlers of the elk and the horns of the bucksustaining draperies of the skins of beasts of prey. Musquets,cutlasses and partisans were bestowed on brackets ready for use in caseof sudden invasion from that race of wild men whose stealthy incursionsin times past had taught this policy of preparation. The level rays ofthe setting sun, striking through the broad open door, flung a mellowradiance over the hall, giving a rich picture-like tone to its sylvanfurniture.

  Lord Baltimore, at the period when I have introduced him, might havebeen verging upon fifty. He was of a delicate and slender stature, witha grave and dignified countenance. His manners were sedate andgraceful, and distinguished by that gentleness which is characteristicof an educated mind when chastened by affliction. He had been schooledto this gentleness both by domestic and public griefs. The loss of afavourite son, about two years before, had thrown a shadow upon hisspirit, and a succession of unruly political irritations in theprovince served to prevent the return of that buoyancy of heart whichis indifferently slow to come back at middle age, even when solicitedby health, fortune, friends, and all the other incitements which, inyounger men, are wont to lift up a wounded spirit out of the depths ofa casual sorrow.

  Charles Calvert had come to the province in 1662, and from that date,until the death of his father, thirteen years afterwards, administeredthe government in the capacity of Lieutenant-General. Upon hisaccession to the proprietary rights, he found himself compelled by theintrigues of a faction to visit London, where he was detained nearlyfour years,--having left Lady Baltimore, with a young family ofchildren, behind him, under the care of his uncle Philip Calvert, thechancellor of the province. He had now, within little more than atwelvemonth, returned to his domestic roof, to mingle his sorrows withthose of his wife for the death of his eldest son, Cecilius, who hadsunk into the tomb during his absence.

  The public cares of his government left him scant leisure to dwell uponhis personal afflictions. The province was surrounded by powerfultribes of Indians who watched the white settlers with an eagerhostility, and seized every occasion to molest them by secret inroad,and often by open assault. A perpetual war of petty reprisals,prevailed upon the frontier, and even sometimes invaded the heart ofthe province.

  A still more vexatious annoyance existed in the party divisions of theinhabitants--divisions unluckily resting on religious distinctions--themost fierce of all dissensions. Ever since the Restoration, thejealousy of the Protestant subjects of the crown against the adherentsof the church of Rome had been growing into a sentiment that finallybroke forth into the most flagrant persecution. In the province, theProtestants during the last twenty years had greatly increased innumber, and at the date of this narrative constituted already thelarger mass of the population. They murmured against the dominion ofthe Proprietary as one adverse to the welfare of the English church;and intrigues were set on foot to obtain the establishment of thatchurch in the province through the interest of the ministry in England.Letters were written by some of the more ambitious clergy of Marylandto the Archbishop of Canterbury to invoke his aid in the enterprise.The government of Lord Baltimore was traduced in these representations,and every disorder attributed to the ascendancy of the Papists. It waseven affirmed that the Proprietary and his uncle the Chancellor, hadinstigated the Indians to ravage the plantations of the Protestantsettlers, and to murder their families. Chiefly, to counteract theseintrigues, Lord Baltimore had visited the court at London. CeciliusCalvert, the founder of the province, with a liberality as wise as itwas unprecedented, had erected his government upon a basis of perfectreligious freedom. He did this at a time when he might haveincorporated his own faith with the political character of the colony,and maintained it, by a course of legislation, which would, perhaps,even up to the present day, have rendered Maryland the chosen abode ofthose who now acknowledge the founder's creed. His views, however, weremore expansive. It was his design to furnish in Maryland a refuge notonly to the weary and persecuted votaries of his own sect, but anasylum to all who might wish for shelter in a land where opinion shouldbe free and conscience undisturbed. Whilst this plant of toleration wasyet young, it grew with a healthful luxuriance; but the popularleaders, who are not always as truly and consistently attached toenlightened freedom as we might be led to believe from their boasting,and who incessantly aim to obtain power and make it felt, had no sooneracquired strength to battle with the Proprietary than they rooted upthe beautiful exotic and gave it to the winds.

  Amongst the agitators in this cause was a man of some note in theformer history of the province--the famous Josias Fendall, the governorin the time of the Protectorate--now in a green old age, whoseturbulent temper, and wily propensity to mischief had lost none oftheir edge with the approach of grey hairs. This individual hadstimulated some of the hot spirits of the province into open rebellionagainst the life of the Proprietary and his uncle. His chief associatewas John Coode, a coarse but shrewd leader of a faction, who, with theworst inclinations against the Proprietary had the wit to avoid thepenalties of the law, and to maintain himself in a popular position asa member of the house of Burgesses. Fendall, a few months before thisera, had been arrested with several followers, upon strong proofs ofconspiracy, and was now a close prisoner in the gaol.

  Such is a brief but necessary view of the state of affairs on the date,at which I have presented the Lord Proprietary to my reader. The matternow in hand with the captain of the fort had reference to troubles ofinferior note to those which I have just recounted.

  When Lord Baltimore descried Captain Dauntrees and the rangerapproaching the mansion from the direction of the fort, he advancedbeyond the threshold to meet them. In a moment they stood unbonnetedbefore him.

  "God save you, good friends!" was his salutation--"Captain Dauntreesand worthy Arnold, welcome!--Cover,"--he added in a tone of familiarkindness,--"put on your hats; these evening airs sometimes distill anague upon a bare head."

  A rugged smile played upon the features of the old forester as heresumed his shaggy cap, and said, "Lord Charles is good; but he doesnot remember that the head of an old ranger gets his blossoms like thedog-wood,--in the wind and the rain:--the dew sprinkles upon it thesame as upon a stone."

  "Old friend," replied the Proprietary,--"that grizzly head has takenmany a sprinkling in the service of my father and myself: it is worthyof a better bonnet, and thou shalt have one, Arnold--the best thoucanst find in the town. Choose for yourself, and Master Verheyden shalllook to the cost of it."

  The Fleming modestly bowed, as he replied with that peculiar foreigngesture and accent, neither of which may be described,--"Lord Charlesis good.--He is the son of his father, Lord Cecil,--Heaven bless hismemory!"

  "Master Verheyden, bade me attend your lordship," said Dauntrees; "andto bring Arnold de la Grange with me."

  "I have matter for your vigilance, Captain," replied the Proprietary."Walk with me in the garden--we will talk over our business in the openair."

  When they had strolled some distance, Lord Baltimore proceeded--"Thereare strange tales afloat touching certain mysterious doings in a houseat St. Jerome's: the old wives will have it that it is inhabited bygoblins and mischievous spirits--and, in truth, wiser people than oldwomen are foolish enough to hold it in dread. Father Pierre tells me hecan scarcely check this terror."

  "Your Lordship means the fisherman's house on the beach at St.Jerome's," said the Captain. "The country is full of stories concerningit, and it has long had an ill fame. I know the house: the gossips callit The Wizard's Chapel. It
stands hard by the hut of The Cripple. By myfaith,--he who wanders there at nightfall had need of a clear shrift."

  "You give credence to these idle tales?"

  "No idle tales, an please your Lordship. Some of these marvels have Iwitnessed with my own eyes. There is a curse of blood upon that roof."

  "I pray you speak on," said the Proprietary, earnestly; "there is morein this than I dreamed of."

  "Paul Kelpy the fisherman," continued Dauntrees,--"it was before mycoming into the province--but the story goes----"

  "It was in the Lord Cecil's time--I knowed the fisherman," interruptedArnold.

  "He was a man," said the Captain, "who, as your Lordship may haveheard, had a name which caused him to be shunned in his time,--and theyare alive now who can tell enough of his wickedness to make one's hairrise on end. He dwelt in this house at St. Jerome's in Clayborne's day,and took part with that freebooter;--went with him, as I have heard, tothe Island, and was outlawed."

  "Ay, and met the death he deserved--I remember the story," said theProprietary. "He was foiled in his attempt to get out of the province,and barred himself up in his own house."

  "And there he fought like a tiger,--or more like a devil as he was,"added the ranger. "They were more than two days, before they could getinto his house."

  "When his door was forced at last," continued the Captain; "they foundhim, his wife and child lying in their own blood upon the hearth stone.They were all murdered, people say, by his own hand."

  "And that was true!" added Arnold; "I remember how he was buried at thecross road, below the Mattapany Fort, with a stake drove through hisbody."

  "Ever since that time," continued Dauntrees, "they say the house hasbeen without lodgers--of flesh and blood, I mean, my Lord,--for it hasbecome a devil's den, and a busy one."

  "What hast thou seen, Captain? You speak as a witness."

  "It is not yet six months gone by, my Lord, when I was returning withClayton, the master of the collector's pinnace, from the Isle of Kent;we stood in, after night, towards the headland of St. Jerome's bay;--itwas very dark--and the four windows of the Wizard's Chapel, that lookedacross the beach, were lighted up with such a light as I have neverseen from candle or fagot. And there were antic figures passing theblaze that seemed deep in some hellish carouse. We kept our course,until we got almost close aboard,--when suddenly all grew dark. Therecame, at that moment, a gust of wind such as the master said he neverknew to sweep in daylight across the Chesapeake. It struck us in ourteeth, and we were glad to get out again upon the broad water. It wouldseem to infer that the Evil One had service rendered there, which itwould be sinful to look upon. In my poor judgment it is matter for thechurch, rather than for the hand of the law."

  "You are not a man, Captain Dauntrees, to be lightly moved byfantasies," said the Proprietary, gravely; "you have good repute forsense and courage. I would have you weigh well what you report."

  "Surely, my Lord, Clayton is as stout a man in heart as any in theprovince: and yet he could scarcely hold his helm for fear."

  "Why was I not told of this?"

  "Your Lordship's favour," replied Dauntrees, shaking his head; "neitherthe master, the seamen nor myself would hazard ill will by moving inthe matter. There is malice in these spirits, my Lord, which will notbrook meddling in their doings: we waited until we might be questionedby those who had right to our answer. The blessed martyrs shield me! Iam pledged to fight your Lordship's bodily foes:--the good priests ofour holy patron St. Ignatius were better soldiers for this warfare."

  The Proprietary remained for some moments silent: at last, turning tothe ranger, he inquired--"What dost thou know of this house, Arnold?"

  "Well, Lord Charles," replied the veteran, "I was not born to be muchafeard of goblins or witches.--In my rangings I have more than oncecome in the way of these wicked spirits; and then I have found that aclean breast and a stout heart, with the help of an Ave Mary and aPaternoster was more than a match for all their howlings. But thefisherman's house--oh, my good Lord Charles," he added with aportentous shrug, "has dwellers in it that it is best not to trouble.When Sergeant Travers and myself were ranging across by St. Jerome's,at that time when Tiquassino's men were thought to be a thieving,--lastHallowmass, if I remember,--we shot a doe towards night, and set downin the woods, waiting to dress our meat for a supper, which kept uslate, before we mounted our horses again. But we had some aqua vitae,and didn't much care for hours. So it was midnight, with no light butthe stars to show us our way. It happened that we rode not far from theWizard's Chapel, which put us to telling stories to each other aboutPaul Kelpy and the ghosts that people said haunted his house."

  "The aqua vitae made you talkative as well as valiant, Arnold,"interrupted the Proprietary.

  "I will not say that," replied the ranger; "but something put it intoour heads to go down the bank and ride round the chapel. At first allwas as quiet as if it had been our church here of St. Mary's--exceptthat our horses snorted and reared with fright at something we couldnot see. The wind was blowing, and the waves were beating on theshore,--and suddenly we began to grow cold; and then, all at once,there came a rumbling noise inside of the house like the rolling of ahogshead full of pebbles, and afterwards little flashes of lightthrough the windows, and the sergeant said he heard clanking chains andgroans:--it isn't worth while to hide it from your lordship, but thesergeant ran away like a coward, and I followed him like another, LordCharles.--Since that night I have not been near the Black house.--Wehave an old saying in my country--'een gebrande kat vreest het koudewater'--the scalded cat keeps clear of cold water--ha, I mind theproverb."

  "It is not long ago," said Dauntrees, "perhaps not above twoyears,--when, they say, the old sun-dried timber of the building turnedsuddenly black. It was the work of a single night--your Lordship shallfind it so now."

  "I can witness the truth of it," said Arnold--"the house was neverblack until that night, and now it looks as if it was scorched withlightning from roof to ground sill. And yet, lightning could neverleave it so black without burning it to the ground."

  "There is some trickery in this," said the Proprietary. "It may scarcebe accounted for on any pretence of witchcraft, or sorcery, although Iknow there are malignant influences at work in the province which findmotive enough to do all the harm they can. Has Fendall, or any of hisconfederates had commerce with this house, Captain Dauntrees? Can yoususpect such intercourse?"

  "Assuredly not, my Lord," replied the Captain, "for Marshall, who isthe most insolent of that faction, hath, to my personal knowledge, thegreatest dread of the chapel of all other men I have seen. Besides,these terrors have flourished in the winter-night tales of theneighbourhood, ever since the death of Kelpy, and long before theFendalls grew so pestilent in the province."

  "It is the blood of the fisherman, my good Lord, and of his wife andchildren that stains the floor," said Arnold; "it is that blood whichbrings the evil spirits together about the old hearth. Twice every daythe blood-spots upon the floor freshen and grow strong, as the tidecomes to flood;--at the ebb they may be hardly seen."

  "You have witnessed this yourself, Arnold?"

  "At the ebb, Lord Charles. I did not stay for the change of tide. WhenI saw the spots it was as much as we could do to make them out.--But atthe flood every body says they are plain."

  "It is a weighty matter, a very weighty matter, an it like yourLordship's honour," muttered forth the slim voice of Garret Weasel, whohad insinuated himself, by slow approach, into the rear of the company,near enough to hear a part of this conversation, and who now fanciedthat his interest in the subject would ensure him an unrebuked accessto the Proprietary--"and your Lordship hath a worthy care for the fearsof the poor people touching the abominations of the Wizard's Chapel."

  "What brought thee here, Garret Weasel?" inquired the Proprietary, ashe turned suddenly upon the publican and looked him steadfastly in theface--"What wonder hast thou to tell to excuse thy lurking at ourheels?"

  "Much and man
ifold, our most noble Lord, touching the rumours," repliedthe confused innkeeper, with a thick utterance. "And it is the mostnotable thing about it that Robert Swale--Rob o' the Trencher, as he iscommonly called--your Lordship apprehends I mean the Cripple--that Roblives so near the Wizard's Chapel. There's matter of consideration inthat--if your Lordship will weigh it."

  "Fie, Master Garret Weasel! Fie on thee! Thou art in thy cups. I grieveto see thee making a beast of thyself. You had a name for sobriety.Look that you lose it not again. Captain Dauntrees if the publican hasbeen your guest this evening, you are scarce free of blame for this."

  "He has a shallow head, my Lord, and it is more easily sounded than Iguessed. Arnold," said Dauntrees apart--"persuade the innkeeper home."

  The ranger took Garret's arm, and expostulating with him as he led himaway, dismissed him at the gate with an admonition to bear himselfdiscreetly in the presence of his wife,--a hint which seemed to have asalutary effect, as the landlord was seen shaping his course with animproved carriage towards the town.

  "Have you reason to believe, Captain Dauntrees," said the Proprietary,after Weasel had departed; "that the Cripple gives credit to thesetales. He lives near this troubled house?"

  "Not above a gunshot off, my Lord. He cannot but be witness to thesemarvels. But he is a man of harsh words, and lives to himself. There ismatter in his own life, I should guess, which leaves but little will tocensure these doings. To a certainty he has no fear of what may dwellin the Black building.--I have seldom spoken with him."

  "Your report and Arnold's," said the Proprietary, "confirm the commonrumour. I have heard to-day, that two nights past some such phantoms asyou speak of have been seen, and deemed it at first a mere gossip'swonder;--but what you tell gives a graver complexion of truth to thesewhisperings. Be there demons or jugglers amongst us--and I have reasonto suspect both--this matter must be sifted. I would have the inquirymade by men who are not moved by the vulgar love of marvel. This dutyshall be yours, friends. Make suitable preparation, Captain, todischarge it at your earliest leisure. I would have you and Arnold,with such discreet friends as you may select, visit this spot at nightand observe the doings there. Look that you keep your own counsel:--wehave enemies of flesh and blood that may be more dreaded than thesephantoms. So, God speed you friends!"

  "The man who purges the Black House of the fiend, so please you, myLord," said Dauntrees, "should possess more odour of sanctity than Idoubt will be found under our soldier's jerkins. I shall neverthelessexecute your Lordship's orders to the letter."

  "Hark you, Captain," said the Proprietary, as his visiters were aboutto take their leave--"if you have a scruple in this matter and are soinclined, I would have you confer with Father Pierre. Whether thisadventure require prayer, or weapon of steel, you shall judge foryourself."

  "I shall take it, my Lord, as a point of soldiership," said Dauntrees,"to be dealt with, in soldierly fashion--that is, with round blows ifoccasion serves. I ask no aid from our good priest. He hath a trick--ifI may be so bold as to speak it before your Lordship--which doth not sowell sort with my age and bodily health,--a trick, my Lord, of puttingone to a fasting penance by way of purification. Our purpose ofvisiting the Black House would be unseasonably delayed by such apurgation."

  "As thou wilt--as thou wilt!" said the Proprietary, laughing; "FatherPierre would have but an idle sinecure, if he had no other calling butto bring thee to thy penitentiary.--Good even, friends,--may the kindsaints be with you!"

  The Captain and his comrade now turned their steps toward the fort, andthe Proprietary retired into the mansion. Here he found the secretaryand Benedict Leonard waiting his arrival. They had just returned fromthe town, whither they had gone after doing their errand to the fort.Albert Verheyden bore a packet secured with silken strings and sealed,which he delivered to the Proprietary.

  "Dick Pagan, the courier," he said, "has just come in from James Townin Virginia, whence he set forth but four days ago--he has had a hardride of it--and brought this pacquet to the sheriff for my Lord. Thecourier reports that a ship had just arrived from England, and that SirHenry Chichely the governor gave him this for your Lordship to bedelivered without delay."

  The Proprietary took the pacquet: "Albert," he said, as he was about towithdraw, "I have promised the old ranger, Arnold de la Grange, a newcap. Look to it:--get him the best that you may find in the town--or,perhaps, it would better content him to have one made express by Conythe leather dresser. Let it be as it may best please the veteranhimself, good Albert." With this considerate remembrance of the ranger,Lord Baltimore withdrew into his study.