The Curse of Carne's Hold: A Tale of Adventure
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THE CURSE OF CARNE'S HOLD
A Tale of Adventure
BY G. A. HENTY
AUTHOR OF "ALL BUT LOST," "GABRIEL ALLEN, M.P.," ETC., ETC.
_NEW EDITION_
LONDON
GRIFFITH FARRAN & CO. NEWBERY HOUSE, 39, CHARING CROSS ROAD
_The Right of Translation and Reproduction is reserved._
"_'Hold tight, Mary,' he said, as he cut down a native whowas springing upon him from the bushes._"]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. HOW THE CURSE BEGAN 5
CHAPTER II. MARGARET CARNE 21
CHAPTER III. TWO QUARRELS 39
CHAPTER IV. A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY 58
CHAPTER V. THE INQUEST 75
CHAPTER VI. RUTH POWLETT 96
CHAPTER VII. THE VERDICT 112
CHAPTER VIII. ENLISTED 128
CHAPTER IX. THE OUTBREAK 147
CHAPTER X. A SUCCESSFUL DEFENCE 165
CHAPTER XI. ATTACK ON A WAGGON-TRAIN 183
CHAPTER XII. IN THE AMATOLAS 202
CHAPTER XIII. THE RESCUE 219
CHAPTER XIV. RONALD IS OFFERED A COMMISSION 238
CHAPTER XV. A PARTING 256
CHAPTER XVI. SEARCHING FOR A CLUE 273
CHAPTER XVII. RUTH POWLETT CONFESSES 290
CHAPTER XVIII. GEORGE FORESTER'S DEATH 307
CHAPTER XIX. THE FIRE AT CARNE'S HOLD 324
CHAPTER XX. CLEARED AT LAST 340
THE
CURSE OF CARNE'S HOLD
CHAPTER I.
HOW THE CURSE BEGAN.
There was nothing about Carne's Hold that would have suggested to themind of the passing stranger that a curse lay upon it. Houses to whichan evil history is attached lie almost uniformly in low and dampsituations. They are embedded in trees; their appearance is gloomy andmelancholy; the vegetation grows rank around them, the drive isovergrown with weeds and mosses, and lichens cling to the walls. Carne'sHold possessed none of these features. It stood high up on the slope ofa hill, looking down into the valley of the Dare, with the prettyvillage of Carnesford nestling among its orchards, and the bright streamsparkling in the sunshine.
There was nothing either gloomy or forbidding about its architecture,and the family now simply called their abode The Carnes; the term "Hold"that the country people applied to it was indeed a misnomer, for thebombardiers of Essex had battered the walls of the old fortified house,and had called in the aid of fire to finish the work of destruction.The whole of the present structure was therefore subsequent to thatdate; it had been added to and altered many times, and each of itsowners had followed out his own fancies in utter disregard of those ofhis predecessors; consequently the house represented a medley of diversestyles, and, although doubtless an architectural monstrosity, waspicturesque and pleasing to the eye of men ignorant of the canons ofArt.
There were no large trees near it, though a clump rose a few hundredyards behind it, and took away the effect of bareness it would otherwisehave had. The garden was well kept, and bright with flowers, and it wasclear that no blighting influence hung over them, nor, it would bethought, over the girl, who, with a straw hat swinging in one hand, anda basket, moved among them. But the country people for six miles roundfirmly believed that a curse lay on Carne's Hold, and even among thecounty families no one would have been willing to give a daughter inmarriage to an owner of the place.
Carnesford, now a good-sized village, had once been a tiny hamlet, anappanage of Carne's Hold, but it had long since grown out of leadingstrings, and though it still regarded The Carnes with something of itsold feudal feeling, it now furnished no suit or service unless paid forso doing. Carnesford had grown but little of late years, and had notendency to increase. There was work enough in the neighbourhood forsuch of its inhabitants as wanted to work, and in summer a cart wentdaily with fruit and garden produce to Plymouth, which lay about twentymiles away, the coast road dipping down into the valley, and crossingthe bridge over the Dare at Carnesford, and then climbing the hill againto the right of The Hold.
Artists would sometimes stop for a week or two to sketch the quaintold-fashioned houses in the main street, and especially the mill ofHiram Powlett, which seemed to have changed in no way since the dayswhen its owner held it on the tenure of grinding such corn as the ownersof The Hold required for the use of themselves and their retainers.Often, too, in the season, a fisherman would descend from the coach asit stopped to change horses at the "Carne's Arms" and would take up hisquarters there, for there was rare fishing in the Dare, both in the deepstill pool above the mill and for three or four miles higher up, whilesea-trout were nowhere to be found plumper and stronger than in thestretch of water between Carnesford and Dareport, two miles away.
Here, where the Dare ran into the sea, was a fishing village as yetuntouched, and almost unknown even to wandering tourists, and offeringindeed no accommodation whatever to the stranger beyond what he might,perchance, obtain in the fishermen's cottages.
The one drawback to Carnesford, as its visitors declared, was the rain.It certainly rained often, but the villagers scarcely noticed it. It wasto the rain, they knew, that they owed the bright green of the valleyand the luxuriousness of their garden crops, which always fetched thetop price in Plymouth market; and they were so accustomed to the softmist brought up by the south-west wind from over the sea that they nevernoticed whether it was raining or not.
Strangers, however, were less patient, and a young man who was standingat the door of the "Carne's Arms," just as the evening was closing in atthe end of a day in the beginning of October, 1850, looked gloomily outat the weather. "I do not mind when I am fishing," he muttered tohimself; "but when one has once changed into dry clothes one does notwant to be a prisoner here every evening. Another day like this, and Ishall pack up my traps and get back again on board."
He turned and went back into the house, and, entering the bar, took hisseat in the little sanctum behind it; for he had been staying in thehouse for a week, and was now a privileged personage. It was a snuglittle room; some logs were blazing on the hearth, for although theweather was not cold, it was damp enough to make a fire pleasant. Threeof the landlord's particular cronies were seated there: Hiram Powlett,the miller; and Jacob Carey, the blacksmith; and old Reuben Claphurst,who had been the village clerk until his voice became so thin anduncertain a treble that the vicar was obliged to find a successor forhim.
"Sit down, Mr. Gulston," the landlord said, as his guest entered. "Fineday it has been for fishing, and a nice basket you have brought in."
"It's been well enough for fishing, landlord, but I would rather put upwith a lighter basket, and have a little pleasanter weather."
The sentiment evidently caused surprise, which Jacob Carey was the firstto give expression to.
"You don't say, now, that you call this unpleasant weather, sir? Now Icall this about as good weather as we could expect in the first week ofOctober--warm and soft, and in every way seasonable."
"It may be all that," the guest said, as he lit his pipe; "but I own Idon't care about having the rain trickling down my neck frombreakfast-time to dark."
"Our fishermen about here look on a little rain as good for sport,"Hiram Powlett remarked.
"No doubt it is; but I am afraid I am not much of a
sportsman. I used tobe fond of fishing when I was a lad, and thought I should like to try myhand at it again, but I am afraid I am not as patient as I was. I don'tthink sea life is a good school for that sort of thing."
"I fancied now that you might be a sailor, Mr. Gulston, though I didn'tmake so bold as to ask. Somehow or other there was something about yourway that made me think you was bred up to the sea. I was not sure aboutit, for I can't recollect as ever we have had a sailor gentleman stayinghere for the fishing before."
"No," Mr. Gulston laughed, "I don't think we often take to the rod.Baiting a six-inch hook at the end of a sea-line for a shark is aboutthe extent to which we usually indulge; though sometimes when we are atanchor the youngsters get the lines overboard and catch a few fish. Yes,I am a sailor, and belong, worse luck, to the flagship at Plymouth. Bythe way," he went on, turning to Jacob Carey, "you said last night, justas you were going out, something about the curse of Carne's Hold. That'sthe house up upon the hill, isn't it? What is the curse, and who saidit?"
"It is nothing sir, it's only foolishness," the landlord said, hastily."Jacob meant nothing by it."
"It ain't foolishness, John Beaumont, and you know it--and, for that,every one knows it. Foolishness indeed! Here's Reuben Claphurst can tellyou if it's nonsense; he knows all about it if any one does."
"I don't think it ought to be spoken of before strangers," Hiram Powlettput in.
"Why not?" the smith asked, sturdily. "There isn't a man on thecountry-side but knows all about it. There can be no harm in tellingwhat every one knows. Though the Carnes be your landlords, JohnBeaumont, as long as you pay the rent you ain't beholden to them; and asfor you, Hiram, why every one knows as your great-grandfather bought therights of the mill from them, and your folk have had it ever since.Besides, there ain't nothing but what is true in it, and if the Squirewere here himself, he couldn't say no to that."
"Well, well, Jacob, there's something in what you say," the landlordsaid, in the tone of a man convinced against his will; but, indeed, nowthat he had done what he considered his duty by making a protest, he hadno objection to the story being told. "Maybe you are right; and, thoughI should not like it said as the affairs of the Carnes were gossipedabout here, still, as Mr. Gulston might, now that he has heard about thecurse on the family, ask questions and hear all sorts of lies from thoseas don't know as much about it as we do, and especially as ReubenClaphurst here does, maybe it were better he should get the rights ofthe story from him."
"That being so," the sailor said, "perhaps you will give us the yarn,Mr. Claphurst, for I own that you have quite excited my curiosity as tothis mysterious curse."
The old clerk, who had told the story scores of times, and rather pridedhimself on his telling, was nothing loth to begin.
"There is something mysterious about it, sir, as you say; so I havealways maintained, and so I shall maintain. There be some as will haveit as it's a curse on the family for the wickedness of old Sir Edgar. Soit be, surelie, but not in the way they mean. Having been one of theofficers of the church here for over forty year, and knowing the mind ofthe old parson, ay, and of him who was before him, I always take mystand on this. It was a curse, sure enough, but not in the way as theywants to make out. It wouldn't do to say as the curse of that Spanishwoman had nowt to do with it, seeing as we has authority that cursesdoes sometimes work themselves out; but there ain't no proof to my mind,and to the mind of the parsons as I have served under, that what theycall the curse of Carne's Hold ain't a matter of misfortune, and not, asfolks about here mostly think, a kind of judgment brought on them bythat foreign, heathen woman. Of course, I don't expect other people tosee it in that light."
This was in answer to a grunt of dissent on the part of the blacksmith.
"They ain't all had my advantages, and looks at it as their fathers andgrandfathers did before them. Anyhow, there is the curse, and a bittercurse it has been for the Carnes, as you will say, sir, when you haveheard my story.
"You must know that in the old times the Carnes owned all the land formiles and miles round, and Sir Marmaduke fitted out three ships at hisown expense to fight under Howard and Blake against the Spaniards.
"It was in his time the first slice was cut off the property, for hewent up to Court, and held his own among the best of them, and made asbrave a show, they say, as any of the nobles there. His son took afterhim, and another slice, though not a big one, went; but it was under SirEdgar, who came next, that bad times fell upon Carne's Hold. When thetroubles began he went out for the King with every man he could raise inthe country round, and they say as there was no man struck harder orheavier for King Charles than he did. He might have got off, as manyanother one did, if he would have given it up when it was clear thecause was lost; but whenever there was a rising anywhere he was off tojoin it, till at last house and land and all were confiscated, and hehad to fly abroad.
"How he lived there no one exactly knows. Some said as he fought withthe Spaniards against the Moors; others, and I think they were not farfrom the mark, that he went out to the Spanish Main, and joined a bandof lawless men, and lived a pirate's life there. No one knows aboutthat. I don't think any one, even in those days, did know anything,except that when he came back with King Charles he brought with him aSpanish wife. There were many tales about her. Some said that she hadbeen a nun, and that he had carried her off from a convent in Spain, butthe general belief was--and as there were a good many Devonshire ladswho fought with the rovers on the Spanish Main, it's likely that thereport was true--that she had been the wife of some Spanish Don, whoseship had been captured by the pirates.
"She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Such a beauty, theysay, as was never seen before or since in this part. But they say thatfrom the first she had a wild, hunted look about her, as if she hadeither something on her conscience, or had gone through some terribletime that had well-nigh shaken her reason. She had a baby some monthsold with her when she arrived, and a nurse was engaged from the village,for strangely enough, as every one thought at the time, Sir Edgar hadbrought back no attendant either for himself or his lady.
"No sooner was he back, and had got possession of his estates, being inthat more lucky than many another who fought for the Crown, than he setto work to rebuild The Hold; living for the time in a few rooms thatwere patched up and made habitable in the old building. Whatever he hadbeen doing while he was abroad, there was no doubt whatever that he hadbrought back with him plenty of money, for he had a host of masons andcarpenters over from Plymouth, and spared no expense in having thingsaccording to his fancy. All this time he had not introduced his wife tothe county. Of course, his old neighbours had called and had seen her aswell as him, but he had said at once that until the new house was fit toreceive visitors he did not wish to enter society, especially as hiswife was entirely ignorant of the English tongue.
"Even in those days there were tales brought down to the village by theservants who had been hired from here, that Sir Edgar and his wife didnot get on well together. They all agreed that she seemed unhappy, andwould sit for hours brooding, seeming to have no care or love for herlittle boy, which set folk more against her, since it seemed naturalthat even a heathen woman should care for her child.
"They said, too, there were often fierce quarrels between Sir Edgar andher, but as they always talked in her tongue, no one knew what they wereabout. When the new house was finished they moved into it, and the ruinsof the old Hold were levelled to the ground. People thought then thatSir Edgar would naturally open the house to the county, and, indeed,some entertainments were given, but whether it was that they believedthe stories to his disadvantage, or that they shrank from the strangehostess, who, they say, always looked on these occasions stately andcold, and who spoke no word of their language, the country gentrygradually fell away, and Carne's Hold was left pretty much to itsowners.
"Soon afterwards another child was born. There were, of course, moreservants now, and more state, but Lady Carne was as much al
one as ever.Whether she was determined to learn no word of English, or whether hewas determined that she should not, she at any rate made no attempt toacquire her husband's language, and many said that it was a shame he didnot get her a nurse and a maid who could speak her tongue; for in thedays of Charles there were foreigners enough in England, and there couldhave been no difficulty in procuring her an attendant of her ownreligion and race.
"They quarrelled more than ever; but the servants were all of opinionthat whatever it was about it was her doing more than his. It was hervoice to be heard rising in passionate tones, while he said but little,and they all agreed he was polite and courteous in his manner to her. Asfor her, she would walk for hours by herself up and down the terrace,talking aloud to herself, sometimes wringing her hands and throwing herarms wildly about. At this time there began to be a report among thecountry round that Lady Carne was out of her mind.
"She was more alone than ever now, for Sir Edgar had taken to makingjourneys up to town and remaining for weeks at a time, and there was awhisper that he played heavily and unluckily. So things went on untilthe third child was born, and a fortnight afterwards a servant from TheHold rode through the village late at night on his way for the doctor,and stopped a moment to tell the news that there was a terrible scene upat The Hold, for that during a momentary absence of the nurse, LadyCarne had stabbed her child to death, and when he came away she wasraving wildly, the efforts of Sir Edgar and two of the servants hardlysufficing to hold her.
"After that no one except the inmates of The Hold ever saw its mistressagain; the windows in one of the wings were barred, and two strangewomen were brought down from London and waited and attended on the poorlady. There were but few other servants there, for most of the girlsfrom about here soon left, saying that the screams and cries that rangat times through the house were so terrible that they could not bearthem; but, indeed, there was but small occasion for servants, for SirEdgar was almost always away. One night one of the girls who had stayedon and had been spending the evening with her friends, went home late,and just as she reached the house she saw a white figure appear at oneof the barred windows.
"In a moment the figure began crying and screaming, and to the girl'ssurprise many of her words were English, which she must have picked upwithout any one knowing it. The girl always declared that her languagemade her blood run cold, and was full of oaths, such as rough sailor-menuse, and which, no doubt, she had picked up on ship-board; and then shepoured curses upon the Carnes, her husband, the house, and herdescendants. The girl was so panic-stricken that she remained silenttill, in a minute or two, two other women appeared at the window, and bymain force tore Lady Carne from her hold upon the bars.
"A few days afterwards she died, and it is mostly believed by her ownhand, though this was never known. None of the servants, except her ownattendants, ever entered the room, and the doctor never opened his lipson the subject. Doubtless he was well paid to keep silence. Anyhow, herdeath was not Sir Edgar's work, for he was away at the time, and onlyreturned upon the day after her death. So, sir, that is how the cursecame to be laid on Carne's Hold."
"It is a terrible story," Mr. Gulston said, when the old clerk ceased;"a terrible story. It is likely enough that the rumour was true, andthat he carried her off, after capturing the vessel and killing herhusband, and perhaps all the rest of them, and that she had neverrecovered from the shock. Was there ever any question as to whether theyhad been married?"
"There was a question about it--a good deal of question; and at SirEdgar's death the next heir, who was a distant cousin, set up a claim,but the lawyer produced two documents Sir Edgar had given him. One wassigned by a Jack Priest, who had, it was said, been one of the crew onboard Sir Edgar's ship, certifying that he had duly and lawfully marriedSir Edgar Carne and Donna Inez Martos; and there was another from aSpanish priest, belonging to a church at Porto Rico, certifying that hehad married the same pair according to Catholic rites, appending a notesaying that he did so although the husband was a heretic, beingcompelled and enforced by armed men, the town being in the possession ofa force from two ships that had entered the harbour the night before.As, therefore, the pair had been married according to the rites of bothChurches, and the Carnes had powerful friends at Court, the matterdropped, and the title has never since been disputed. As to Sir Edgarhimself, he fortunately only lived four years after his wife's death.Had he lived much longer, there would have been no estate left todispute. As it was, he gambled away half its wide acres."
"And how has the curse worked?" Mr. Gulston asked.
"In the natural way, sir. As I was saying before it has just been in thenatural way, and whatever people may say, there is nothing, as I haveheard the old parson lay down many a time, to show that that poorcreature's wild ravings had aught to do with what followed. The taint inthe blood of Sir Edgar's Spanish wife was naturally inherited by herdescendants. Her son showed no signs of it, at least as far as I haveheard, until he was married and his wife had borne him three sons. Thenit burst out. He drew his sword and killed a servant who had given himsome imaginary offence, and then, springing at his wife, who had thrownherself upon him, he would have strangled her had not the servants runin and torn him off her. He, too, ended his days in confinement. Hissons showed no signs of the fatal taint.
"The eldest married in London, for none of the gentry of Devonshirewould have given their daughter in marriage to a Carne. The othersentered the army; one was killed in the Low Countries, the youngestobtained the rank of general and married and settled in London. The sonof the eldest boy succeeded his father, but died a bachelor. He was aman of strange, moody habits, and many did not hesitate to say that hewas as mad as his grandfather had been. He was found dead in hislibrary, with a gun just discharged lying beside him. Whether it hadexploded accidentally, or whether he had taken his life, none could say.
"His uncle, the General, came down and took possession, and for a timeit seemed as if the curse of the Carnes had died out, and indeed nofurther tragedies have taken place in the family, but several of itsmembers have been unlike other men, suffering from fits of morose gloomor violent passion. The father of Reginald, the present Squire, was of abright and jovial character, and during the thirty years that he waspossessor of The Hold was so popular in this part of the country thatthe old stories have been almost forgotten, and it is generally believedthat the curse of the Carnes has died out."
"The present owner," Mr. Gulston asked; "what sort of a man is he?"
"I don't know nothing about him," the old man replied; "he is since mytime."
"He is about eight-and-twenty," the landlord said. "Some folks say onething about him, some another; I says nothing. He certainly ain't likehis father, who, as he rode through the village, had a word for everyone; while the young Squire looks as if he was thinking so much that hedidn't even know that the village stood here. The servants of The Holdspeak well of him--he seems kind and thoughtful when he is in thehumour, but he is often silent and dull, and it is not many men whowould be dull with Miss Margaret. She is one of the brightest andhighest spirited young ladies in the county. There's no one but has agood word for her. I think the Squire studies harder than is good forhim. They say he is always reading, and he doesn't hunt or shoot; andnatural enough when a man shuts himself up and takes no exercise tospeak of, he gets out of sorts and dull like; anyhow, there's nothingwrong about him. He's just as sane and sensible as you and I."
After waiting for two days longer and finding the wet weather continue,Mr. Gulston packed up his rods and fishing tackle and returned toPlymouth. He had learned little more about the family at The Hold,beyond the fact that Mrs. Mervyn, who inhabited a house standing half amile further up the valley, was the aunt of Reginald and Margaret Carne,she having been a sister of the late possessor of The Hold. In her youthshe had been, people said, the counterpart of her niece, and it was nottherefore wonderful that Clithero Mervyn had, in spite of the advice ofhis friends and the reputation of the Carnes, ta
ken what was consideredin the county the hazardous step of making her his wife.
This step he had never repented, for she had, like her brother, been oneof the most popular persons in that part of the county, and a universalfavourite. The Mervyn estate had years before formed part of that of theCarnes, but had been separated from it in the time of Sir Edgar'sgrandson, who had been as fond of London life and as keen a gambler ashis ancestor.
The day before he started, as he was standing at the door of the hotel,Reginald Carne and his sister had ridden past; they seemed to care nomore for the weather than did the people of the village, and werelaughing and talking gaily as they passed, and Charles Gulston thoughtto himself that he had never in all his travels seen a brighter andprettier face than that of the girl.
"_Charles Gulston thought he had never seen a prettierand brighter face than that of the girl._"]
He thought often of the face that day, but he was not given to romance,and when he had once returned to his active duties as first lieutenantof H.M.S. _Tenebreuse_, he thought no more on the subject until threeweeks later his captain handed him a note, saying:
"Here, Gulston, this is more in your line than mine. It's an invitationto a ball, for myself and some of my officers, from Mrs. Mervyn. I havemet her twice at the Admiral's, and she is a very charming woman, but asher place is more than twenty miles away and a long distance from arailway station, I certainly do not feel disposed to make the journey.They are, I believe, a good county family. She has two pretty daughtersand a son--a captain in the Borderers, who came into garrison about amonth ago; so I have no doubt the soldiers will put in a strongappearance."
"I know the place, sir," Gulston said; "it's not far from Carnesford,the village where I was away fishing the other day, and as I heard agood deal about them I think I will take advantage of the invitation. Idare say Mr. Lucas will be glad to go too, if you can spare him."
"Certainly, any of them you like, Gulston, but don't take any of themidshipmen; you see Mrs. Mervyn has invited my officers, but as thesoldiers are likely to show up in strength, I don't suppose she wantstoo many of us."
"We have an invitation to a ball, doctor," Lieutenant Gulston said afterleaving the captain, to their ship's doctor, "for the 20th, at a Mrs.Mervyn's. The captain says we had better not go more than three.Personally I rather want to go. So Hilton of course must remain onboard, and Lucas can go. I know you like these things, although you arenot a dancing man. As a rule it goes sorely against my conscience takingsuch a useless person as one of our representatives; but upon thepresent occasion it does not matter, as there is a son of the house inthe Borderers; and, of course, they will put in an appearance instrength."
"A man can make himself very useful at a ball, even if he doesn'tdance, Gulston," the doctor said. "Young fellows always think chits ofgirls are the only section of the female sex who should be thought of.Who is going to look after their mothers, if there are only boyspresent? The conversation of a sensible man like myself is quite asgreat a treat to the chaperones as is the pleasure of hopping about theroom with you to the girls. The conceit and selfishness of you ladssurprise me more and more, there are literally no bounds to them. Howfar is this place off?"
"It's about twenty miles by road, or about fifteen by train, and eightor nine to drive afterwards. I happen to know about the place, as it'sclose to the village where I was fishing a fortnight ago."
"Then I think the chaperones will have to do without me, Gulston. I amfond of studying human nature, but if that involves staying up all nightand coming back in the morning, the special section of human naturethere presented must go unstudied."
"I have been thinking that one can manage without that, doctor. There isa very snug little inn where I was stopping in the village, less than amile from the house. I propose that we go over in the afternoon, dine atthe inn, and dress there. Then we can get a trap to take us up to theMervyns', and can either walk or drive down again after it is over, orcome back by train with the others, according to the hour and how wefeel when the ball is over."
"Well, that alters the case, lad, and under those conditions I will beone of the party."