With Wellington in Spain: A Story of the Peninsula

  CHAPTER II

  Underhand Conduct

  Brisk action was a characteristic of Mr. Septimus Clifford, thoughhis portly frame gave one the impression that he might very wellbe a sluggard. However, the bustle in those offices and warehousesbeside the river, the numerous clerks poring over ledgers and papers,and the hands at work in the vaults amidst the huge butts of winetold a tale there was no mistaking. Order and method pervaded theestablishment, and the master of the business was the creator of thatorder and method. As we have said, too, he was a man of action.

  "I'll send Tom off this day two weeks," he told the respectfulHuggins on the evening of that very day on which our hero wasintroduced. "That will put a stop to all fighting, and no doubtseparation will wipe out old enmities, and in time to come the two,Tom and Jose, will be capital friends. There's a boat sailing onFriday fortnight."

  "The _Mary Anne_," agreed Huggins. "Takes hardware from us, consignedto the supply department of Wellington's army. There'll be nodifficulty in obtaining a passage."

  "Then make all arrangements, please," said Mr. Septimus briskly."I'll have a chat with the lad, and tell him what we expect of him.Send him to me."

  The interview between father and son took place beneath the mulberry,in the quaint and picturesque garden before the house in which thefirm transacted business, and there, seated in his basket chair,Septimus discussed affairs with Tom.

  "You'll make every effort to improve and perfect your Portuguese andSpanish," he said, "and your French will be of the utmost use; foronce the Peninsula War is ended, and the French are driven out, itwill be one of your duties to arrange for wines to come from theircountry. Of course, at Oporto you will place yourself in the handsof your uncle, Dom Juan de Esteros, and will learn the business fromhim. Put your back into it, boy, for Dom Juan will, I fear, not belong with us. His health, always indifferent, has been much brokenby the anxieties of the past few years. And now you'd best get yourthings together. Take a good stock of clothing, and perhaps a goodpistol is advisable, seeing that the country of Portugal is still ina condition of disorder."

  It may be imagined that the following two weeks were filled withmoments of interest for our hero. He was going abroad for the firsttime in his life. He was about to make a start in the world, and thatworld at this moment looked exceedingly rosy, so rosy that Tom's faceshone, his eyes flashed, he carried himself jauntily, and one and allcould see that he was full of good spirits to overflowing, and waseagerly awaiting the voyage.

  "That Master Jose'd give his boots to be in his place," reflectedHuggins one afternoon, as Tom went racing across the flower-deckedcourtyard, and Marguerite after him. "It was a bad day, Emmott, forthis house when Mr. Septimus took him in and gave him a home. Notthat I say that of the young lady. She's different; she's like MasterTom. We all love her."

  "And dislike the brother--yes," agreed the junior clerk; "and I toohave a feeling that Master Jose bodes no good to his cousin. See hisface--he's watching the two going off down the river."

  Jose was, in fact, lounging in the forecourt, one hand resting onthe boundary wall, while his lean, lanky body and thin limbs twistedand writhed, as if to keep still were with him an impossibility. Butit was not those twisting limbs that repelled the two old clerkswatching him from the window--it was Jose's face. The brows weredrawn close together, the lips were half-parted, while there was anintense look in the eyes which there was no fathoming.

  "Bodes his cousin no good," Emmott ventured in low tones. "There'sno love lost between 'em. Not that Master Tom isn't ready to befriendly. He is; for he's one of the easygoing sort. Still, he's astickler for what's proper, and he's stood by Miss Marguerite as ifhe were her own brother. That Jose's scowling."

  The lanky youth was actually doing that. No one could doubt the fact;but nevertheless it was impossible to read the thoughts passingthrough his brain. Could they have done so, both Huggins and Emmottwould have found ample reason for their feelings of uneasiness. ForJose was scheming. Jealous of his cousin, as we have said already,he had been envious of Tom almost from the day when Mr. Septimus hadbrought his orphaned nephew and niece to his house. The children ofMr. Septimus's sister, Jose and Marguerite, had been born in Oporto,and had had the misfortune to lose first their mother and then theirfather, brother of Dom Juan de Esteros. Thereafter they had livedwith Mr. Septimus as if they were his own children. And here wasJose scheming to wreck his cousin's chances in the world, whereasgratitude towards his Uncle Septimus should have made of him a fastfriend, and one ready to help Tom to the utmost.

  "Going to Oporto, there to lord it over the office," he was mutteringbetween his teeth, as he watched Tom and Marguerite departing alongthe river bank. "That leaves me here to slave over musty ledgers andto learn the business from that old slowcoach Huggins. Suppose I'llalways be a clerk. One of these days Tom will come back as master,and then he'll order me about."

  It was a petty, childish manner in which to look at the matter, andshowed the narrow-minded view which Jose took of life. Contrary fromhis cradle almost, he was mean in thought and act, and here was oneof his mean thoughts muttered beneath his breath, while his scowlingeyes followed the retreating figure of his cousin. Jose writhed hisway back into the house, and appeared again with a cap. Huggins,watching from the office, saw him go away along the bank of the riverafter the retreating figures of the other two.

  "He's not up to any good, I'd lay," he told his fellow clerk, thewhite-haired Emmott. "What's he following for, I'd like to know."

  "Then let me go after him?" asked the other. "There's a message to betaken along to the people who should have delivered goods to us thismorning, and I may just as well take it as George, the office boy."

  The matter was arranged on the instant, and within five minutesEmmott sauntered away in the wake of Jose. He followed him at adiscreet distance along the river bank, till Jose dived in amongst anumber of houses which clambered down to the water's edge. He caughtsight of him again beyond them, and half an hour later watched him inconverse with a ruffianly looking fellow whom he had accosted.

  "Don't know the man," Emmott told himself. "Never saw him in my lifebefore, so far as I am aware. Jose seems to know him. He's--he'sgiving him money."

  Half-hidden behind the wall surrounding a warehouse, one of themany erected there--for this was a busy part of the city, and hugebarges found deep water when the tide was up, and could load rightalongside the bank--Emmott watched as Jose passed something to thehand of the man he was conversing with. The latter, a huge fellow,dressed somewhat like a seaman, and bearded, might have been a sailorfrom one of the many ships lying in the river, or he might have beenemployed at one of the warehouses. He touched his forehead as Joseput something into his hand, while the lad himself looked craftilyabout him to make sure that no one was watching.

  "What's he paying him for, that's what I'd like to know," Emmottasked himself. "He's up to no good; but how can one say that his talkwith that rascal and the giving of money has anything to do withMaster Tom? Mr. Septimus would laugh at the very idea, and tell us tomind our own business; but I for one shall keep my eyes on this Jose."

  If the clerk imagined that he was thereby to catch Jose out in someunderhand act he was very much mistaken, for the young fellow was ascrafty as he was clever. More than that, though in his heart he hatedTom, he was wise enough to know that scowls and bad temper would nothelp him. From that very moment, indeed, he put on a smile wheneverTom came near, was urbane and friendly with all, and appeared to begenuinely sorry that his cousin was about to leave them.

  "How'd you like to be a soldier, Tom?" he asked his cousin twoevenings later, when our hero's preparations for departure werealmost complete. "They're embarking troops this afternoon down theriver, all bound for Wellington's army."

  It was information which was bound to tempt the light-hearted Tom.For years, indeed, he had longed to be a soldier, and even now, whenhis prospects with the firm of Septimus John Clifford & Son were soapparently good, the old
longing still assailed him. But if he couldnot be a soldier in fact, Tom could vastly enjoy the sight of troopsembarking. He leaped at the opportunity, and that very afternoon sawhim making his way down the bank to the spot, some two miles distant,where a sloop lay off in the river. Boats were passing to and fromher when Tom arrived upon the scene, and for two hours at least hewatched party on party of men embark, while his eyes feasted onothers drawn up in stiff lines on the bank. The bright uniforms, thebustle, and the rattle of accoutrements and drums fascinated him. Hiseyes were wide open with envy as he noticed that two at least of theensigns were no older than himself.

  "And no stronger either," he told himself. "I'm as tall as they are,and though they repeat orders splendidly, and don't seem afraid tomake their voices heard, I reckon I could do the same. What luck ifthe French drove the English back and got as far as Oporto. Then I'dsee some of the fun. There's been terrific fighting in the Peninsula,and folks say that there will be a heap more. Ah, there goes thecolonel's horse aboard! I never saw a horse embarked in my lifebefore."

  Company after company of men descended to the boats and took theirplaces. Tom's eyes followed with almost childish eagerness the figureof another youthful ensign. He was envious of his scarlet uniform, ofhis belts and sword, and of the gaudy headdress he was wearing.

  "If only I were a soldier," he sighed. "I'd enjoy a few years'marching and fighting, and then settle down to the business. Ugh! Anoffice stool hardly compares with the life those fellows are leading."

  He forgot the hardships inseparable from a soldier's life. Tom failedto remember the reports he had read of the terrible plight of our menand officers in the Peninsula. He knew nothing of wounds, terriblewounds often enough, of disease which swept whole companies away,or sent them back home helpless and useless for the reminder oftheir lives. He saw only the glamour of a soldier's lot, the gallantuniforms, the jolly comrades, the bustle and movement of the life.So entranced was he, in fact, that he could have remained therefor hours an interested and envious spectator. But the evening wasdrawing in, while only one company remained to be embarked. With asigh, therefore, Tom turned about and began to retrace his stepsalong the bank in the direction of the premises of Septimus JohnClifford & Son.

  "I'm a fool to let the wish to be a soldier upset my keenness foroffice work," he reflected after a while. "There are lots of chapswho would give their eyes for the opportunities I have. Yes, I'm afool. I must settle to the thing I've got, and--all the same I hopethere'll be some fighting round about Oporto."

  "Hello, my sport!" he suddenly heard, as he was passing down a narrowstreet between two of the many warehouses in that district. "Justhold hard, and give us a pipe of 'bacca."

  A huge individual came rolling towards him out of the darkness of apassage cutting into the street, and was followed by a second man,smaller than the first, but, if anything, more forbidding. Not thatTom could see them clearly, for it was very dark in that narrowstreet, the walls and roofs of the warehouses shutting the place incompletely.

  "Hold hard, shipmate," the big man exclaimed again, rolling forward."A fill o' 'bacca ain't too much to ask from a man that follows thesea."

  He was close beside Tom by then, while his shorter companion wasimmediately behind him. Even in that dark place one could see enoughof the couple to feel sure that they were anything but desirable, andfor a moment Tom considered the advisability of taking to his heels.But then, reflecting that here in the neighbourhood of the docks andquays there must be many seamen ashore on leave, and all perhapshilarious, he turned to the strangers and answered them pleasantly:

  "Sorry I can't oblige," he said. "I haven't started smoking yet."

  "What, my lively! ain't started smokin' yet?" came from the biggerman. "Strike me, Bob, but here's a lubber as don't even chew, letalone take hold of a pipe!"

  There came a giggle from the smaller man, who sidled forward, andcoming from behind his companion, edged up to Tom's side.

  "Don't smoke nor chew," he giggled in a queerly deep, gruff voice."Most like he's a young gent that has got out o' nights without hismother knowing."

  He dropped a parcel which he was carrying beneath one arm, and thenstooped at once to pick it up. A moment later he had sprung up behindTom, and with a quick movement had swung his parcel above our hero'shead. What followed took the young fellow so utterly by surprise thathe was completely dumbfounded; for a sack was drawn down over hishead and shoulders, and long before he could lift his arms the biggerman had flung a coil of rope around him, pinning Tom's arms to hisside. But still he could fight, and, seized with desperation and withanger, Tom lurched this way and that, kicking out in all directions,hustling his captors from side to side till what appeared to them atfirst a game began to annoy them. The bigger man clenched a huge fistand drove hard at the centre of the sack with it.

  "That's silenced him and made him quit foolin'," he grunted brutally,for Tom dropped instantly and lay inert on the ground. "Jest get alift on to his toes, Bob; I'll take his head. We'll have him inchokey afore he's shook the stars out of his eyes."

  Without the smallest show of haste the two ruffians picked uptheir burden and went off down the narrow alley leading from thestreet. There was no need for them to fear interference, for policehardly existed in those days, while respectable individuals did notpatronize the neighbourhood of the docks once night had fallen.Business men, living as they did in the early years of the nineteenthcentury above their premises, sat in the candlelight behind theirshutters once evening had come, and if they ventured forth at all,took some sort of guard with them. It followed, therefore, that noone even observed the two men strolling away with their burden. Evenhad they been seen, the observer would in all likelihood have hurriedaway in the opposite direction, for drunken sailors were inclined tobe more than rough. Robbery was not by any means unknown, while evenmurder was now and again committed in the slums adjacent to the river.

  In less than ten minutes from the moment when Tom had been so hardlytreated the two men came to a halt at a low doorway, the bigger ofthe two beating upon it heavily.

  "Open!" he shouted, as if there were no need for concealment, and hehad no reason to fear being overheard. "Open quick, or Sam here'llwant to know the reason why there's delay."

  "Comin'," ejaculated his small companion in that same strangely deepand wheezing voice, a voice which by rights should have belonged toa man of double his proportions. "I can hear the lass a-comin', Sam.Here she is. This is one more to add to the boys we're collecting."

  At that moment, while the little man was in the act of stuffing somehard black cuttings of tobacco into a short pipe, the door of thehouse they had come to was opened noiselessly, and there appeareda frowsy-headed woman bearing a smoking oil lamp. She stood asidewithout a word and waited for the two men to carry in their burden.The door closed, and the procession passed through a passage intoa large room, just within the doorway of which sat a man as big ashe who had been called Sam, armed with pistol and cutlass. Half adozen other men were in the place, breathing an atmosphere that wasalmost stifling. A dangling lamp shed a feeble light on every hand,while in one corner stood a bottle, in the neck of which was secureda lighted candle, with the aid of which another armed individual waslaboriously spelling out the print on a piece of torn newspaper.

  "What ho!" he cried, looking up, and disclosing a countenance whichwas distinctly brutal. A towsled head of hair, which would appearto have been innocent of receiving any attention for a long while,covered forehead and ears and neck, and was inseparably joined to apair of side whiskers that might have been combed a year before. Onecheek was deeply seamed by a long, straggling scar, while the eyeabove was covered by a patch of black material.

  "What ho!" he cried again, leering at the newcomers, and drawing hisclay from between his teeth. "You've had luck to-night. I can see asyou've nobbled the one as you was after."

  "And gets double pay," growled the man who sat at the door withcutlass and pistol in his lap. "Pay from them as ha
s need for ladsaboard, and pay from t'others as wants to get rid of a friend. You'vebagged the sum from the covey, Sam?"

  Sam made no answer for the moment, but got rid of his burden bythe simple and easy method of dropping Tom's person heavily on thefloor. Standing over him, he proceeded to fill his pipe, and, havingcompleted the task to his liking, stretched across, snatched thebottle in which the candle was fixed, and sucked the flame into thebowl of his pipe. Then his eyes went slowly round the room, and,passing the wretch at the door and the one against the far wall, helet them fall upon the six individuals who also tenanted the room. Hecounted them carefully, and then jerked his head in the direction ofour hero.

  "Pull the sack off, Bob," he said, "and jest you two keep yer tonguesclose in between yer teeth--hear that, Jem, and you too, Sandy? Tightin between yer teeth. This here business has to be conducted withcaution and discretion; and if we does trade with others besides thefolks that pays for the men, why there ain't no need to cry it outfor everyone to hear--eh?"

  The last exclamation was almost in the nature of a threat. Evidentlythe individual with the patch over one eye, who boasted of thetowsled head of hair and the unkempt whiskers, was known as Sandy,and Sam's words, and the scowl he directed at the man, had theinstant effect of causing him once more to busy himself with hisreading. The other, the man who sat fully armed at the door, and wasknown as Jem, coloured under his tan, looked as fierce as Sam for amoment, and then laughed uproariously.

  "You do work yourself up, Sam," he laughed. "Who's there here to leton what business we do? These?" pointing at the six other inmatesof the room. "Not much, me hearty. They'll be aboard come midnight,and to-morrow they'll be that sick they'll have forgotten you and meand everything almost. But you've drawn the stuff; been paid by thatyoung spark as hired you to work it?"

  Sam answered him with a snort and with a violent shake of his head.

  "Presently," he said, meanwhile watching as the rascal Bob removedthe sack from Tom's head. "All in good time. The young nobleman'scoming here to make sure as there's no mistake, and once the ladthere's aboard, the rest of it'll be paid. But it won't end there."

  "Eh?" asked Jem quickly, while Sandy and Bob looked up keenly,avarice and rascality written on their faces. "Don't end there,"said Jem; "how's that?"

  "Blood money ain't all we gets," lisped Sam, allowing a cruel smileto cross his face. "I'll tell you why. I know the young spark as gotus to work this business. Well, when this lad's gone aboard, and isaway, I'll be axing for more of his gold. Supposing he can't pay,then----"

  A hideous grin wrinkled Sandy's face, throwing into greaterprominence the scar that seamed it. Bob dragged the sack fromTom's head and then turned to smile at his leader. Jem brought amassive fist down with a bang on the table, and once more burst intouproarious laughter. It was obvious, in fact, to each one of theserascals that Sam had at hand a ready means with which to force moremoney from the man who had bribed him to capture our hero. Let us putthe matter clearly. Jose had met the ruffian Sam some time before,and had discovered him to be one of those infamous crimps who earneda rich living by snatching men from their employment ashore andpassing them over to ships' captains. The impressment of men in thosedays was not illegal, and since crews were often enough hard to comeby, and these rascally crimps were more or less a necessary evil,they flourished unmolested, and many a poor lad was suddenly tornfrom his home to be smuggled aboard ship, and never heard of againby his own people. Also many a private grudge was wiped out in thismanner. Tom was not the first youth by a great many who had beensuddenly spirited away at the bidding of, and with the aid of goldpaid by, a relative.

  As for the others in the room, they were prisoners like Tom. Fourwere young men of twenty-two or three, while the others were almostmiddle-aged, and undoubtedly sailors. These two sat at the table,smoking heavily and helping themselves to spirits contained in asquare jar set upon it. The other men sat despondently upon a form,eyeing their captors resentfully, and yet in a manner which showedclearly that all the fight was knocked out of them. Like the two atthe table they were becoming resigned to the position, and no doubtwould settle down in time and become good seamen.

  "Just throw a pail of water over his head," Sam ordered, pointingthe stem of his pipe at Tom, who lay senseless where they haddropped him, his face pale in the feeble light of the lamp, his hairdishevelled, while a thin trickle of blood oozed from the corner ofhis mouth. "Then pull his duds off and let him have a suit that'lldo for him aboard. Ah! He's coming round. Trust Sam to strike a blowthat won't do no harm and spoil trade for him. Sit him up, Bob, andwhen he's feeling more hisself, give him a go of spirits and a smoke."

  The whole affair was a horrible exhibition of the brutality and thelawlessness of those times--times even now designated by some asthe good ones. The ruffians who plied this human traffic were asutterly devoid of feeling as they well could be, and looked uponeach one of their captures, not as a fellow being, but as so muchvalue in gold, silver, and pence, so much profit in their business.It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that Tom's forlorn appearancehad no effect upon them. The heartless and rascally Bob procured apail of water and tossed the contents over him, drenching the ladfrom head to foot. He shook him violently, and when our hero feeblyopened his eyes, the wretch placed a pannikin of strong spirits tohis lips, dragged his head backwards--for he had placed his captivein a sitting posture, his back resting against a form--and roughlypoured the contents into his mouth. The effect was magical. Tom satforward with a gasp, spluttering and choking. The colour rushed tohis cheeks, and in a twinkling he seemed to gather his wits and hismemory together. How he got into that room, who the people were, hehad no idea. But Bob's grinning face was within his reach, and hewas undoubtedly the rascal who had dealt with him so roughly but afew seconds before. In any case Tom waited for no explanation. Helaunched himself at Bob, struck him heavily with his fist, and thenclosed with him.

  "The young tiger," growled Sam, stretching out a huge hand andcatching him firmly by the shoulder. "Blest if he isn't the boy tofight them Frenchies. Avast there, me hearty! Bob ain't used toviolent assaults."

  Bob evidently was not accustomed to hard knocks himself, though hemight often enough have cause to give them to others while plying hisnauseous trade. In any case he was furious, and but for Sam, once thelatter had torn Tom away from him, the smaller man would have ventedhis wrath by striking his almost fainting prisoner in the face.

  "Avast there!" shouted Sam, keeping him off. "Ain't I axed you tobring him round quick, seeing as how the pressgang'll be along in awinking? Ain't we got to change his duds, and you there trying tomake things wuss? Get off for the togs! Sandy, jest mix another go o'grog. It'll pull him round lively. Jem, I leaves him in your chargewhile I goes into the other room to do a little business."

  Let the reader imagine a pale-faced and frightened youth cringing inthe squalid den to which the rascal Sam made his way. There, beneaththe same smoky lamp which the woman had borne to the door, sat Jose,writhing this way and that, his limbs never at rest for a moment,his fingers twining, his eyes shifting to every quarter, his lipstwisting this way and that. Jose would have run from his own shadowon that occasion. The enormity of the crime he was perpetratinghad frightened him intensely. Not that he thought of Tom; he wasconsidering himself entirely. What if the whole foul scheme werediscovered? What if Septimus were to learn of his action?

  "Ho!" shouted Sam, bursting in upon him. "Come to see as all's well?"

  Jose could not answer; his knees positively shook beneath him, whilehis bloodless lips would not frame the words he wished to utter. Helifted squirming, trembling fingers to his lips and mouthed at Sam.And then, with a huge effort, he managed to blurt out a few words.

  "You--you've done it?" he asked.

  "In chokey nice enough, master. Jest come along and take a squint athim. If he's the bird--and I don't doubt it--why, the trick's done,the money's earned, or mighty near it."

  He led the trembling youth to
the door of the other room, now closedupon the poor fellows placed there, and sliding a shutter to one sidebade Jose look in.

  "Eh?" he growled in his ear. "The right bird? No mistake, my hearty?"

  Yes, there was Tom, pale and worn and sorrowful-looking, and morethan a little dazed if the truth be spoken. Jose recognized him atonce, and in place of feeling compassion for his cousin let allthe old feelings of envy and resentment have full sway. The eyeslooking through the shutter scowled at poor Tom. Jose's pallid cheekssuddenly reddened at the thought of an approaching triumph. He backedaway, stepped into the smaller room again, and sat down with aswagger.

  "He goes to-night?" he asked, with an attempt at firmness.

  "To-night! Almost this blessed minute."

  "And all his things are taken from him--clothes, letters, andanything likely to let others identify him?"

  "Everything, on my davy!" came the answer.

  "Then here is the money--take it."

  Jose handed over twenty sovereigns, and as if the act had sealed hisguilt promptly began to tremble and writhe again. It was with a grinof triumph that Sam saw him off the doorstep.

  "You'll take more golden coins from the same till as you took thatfrom," he gurgled, chinking the money in his pocket. "It ain't hardto read that you stole it. Well, Sam'll have his eyes on you, and efyou don't like to hand out the cash, why, he's always got a way bywhich he'll make you."

  An hour later there was the tramp of many feet in the street outside,and a hoarse command was given. By then Tom was feeling more himself,and indeed was disposed to show fight at any moment. But he was oneagainst many, and in spite of protests had been compelled to changehis clothing. Now the door was thrown open, and a dozen seamenmarched in, each armed with a cutlass. The impressed men were placedin the centre of their guard, and were marched off down the river.A little later they embarked in a big cutter, a sail was hoisted,and presently they were bowling down stream at a pace which soonleft the neighbourhood of London Bridge behind it, and with it thegood-hearted Septimus, together with the sneaking nephew who had thisvery night done him such a mischief.

  In the early hours Tom was hustled up the high side of a huge vessel,and was as promptly driven down a steep flight of steps into a darkhole, almost as noisome and unpleasant as the one in which Sam andhis gang had first received him. The rattle of ropes and blocks uponthe deck reached his ears, and soon the vessel rolled and heaveduneasily. They were off, leaving behind them some few distractedpeople; for Tom's sudden disappearance caused a commotion. He haddisappeared as completely as if the earth had covered him. Nor wasthat his father's only loss; the cash drawer in his private officehad been rifled, and some twenty-five pounds were missing.

  "Master Tom steal! Never!" exclaimed Huggins, when all the facts werebefore him.

  Mr. Septimus, as may be imagined, was heartbroken. When days had goneby, and more than a week had passed without even a word from ourhero, the head of the house of Septimus John Clifford & Son becamedespondent.

  "Dead!" he almost blubbered, as Huggins stood before him in theforecourt.

  "Not a bit, sir," came the brisk answer. "Alive and kicking. Emmottand I have been looking into the matter. Master Tom's at sea; itwon't be long before we hear from him."