CHAPTER XV.
CAPTAIN BRANSCOME'S CONFESSION--THE MAN IN THE LANE.
He opened the gate and came across the turf to me. I observed thathis hand trembled on his walking-cane, and that he dragged hisinjured leg with a worse limp than usual; also--but the uncertainlight may have had something to do with this--his face seemed of onecolour with the grey dust that powdered his shoes.
"Good morning, Harry!"
"Good morning, sir," I answered, crushing the oilskin into my pocketand waiting for his explanation.
"You are surprised to see me? The fact is, I have something to tellyou, and could not rest easy till it was off my mind. I havetravelled here by Russell's waggon,[1] but have trudged a good partof the way, as you see." He glanced down at his shoes. "The pacewas too slow for my impatience. I could get no sleep. Though itbrought me here no faster, I had to vent my energies in walking."His sentences followed one another by jerks, in a nervous flurry."You are surprised to see me?" he repeated.
"Why, as to that, sir, partly I am and partly I am not. It took meaback just now to see you standing there by the gate; and," said Imore boldly, "it puzzles me yet how you came there and not to thefront door, for you couldn't have expected to find me here in thegarden at this time in the morning."
"True, Harry; I did not." He paused for a moment, and went on--"It istruth, lad, that I meant to knock at your front door, by-and-by, andask for you. But, the hour being over-early for calling, I had amind, before rousing you out of bed, to walk down the lane and have alook over your garden gate. Nay," he corrected himself, "I do notput it quite honestly, even yet. I came in search of something."
"I can save you the trouble, perhaps," said I, and, diving a handinto my breech-pocket, I pulled out the gold-rimmed eyeglasses.
He made no offer to take them, though I held them out to him on myopen palm, but fell back a step, and, after a glance at them, liftedhis eyes and met mine honestly, albeit with a trouble in his face.
"You found them?"
"Yes."
"To whom have you shown them?"
"To nobody."
"Yet there has been some inquiry?"
I nodded.
"At which you were present?"
I nodded again.
"And you said nothing of this--this piece of evidence? Why?
"Because"--I hesitated for a couple of seconds and then gulpedhesitation down--"because I could not believe that you--that you werereally--"
"Thank you, Harry."
"All the same, sir, your name was mentioned."
"Eh?" He was plainly astonished. "My name mentioned? But why?How? since no one saw me here, and if, as you say, you hid this onlyevidence--"
"It came up, sir, when they examined me about Captain Danny.You know--do you not?--that they have found his body, too."
"I heard the news being cried in Truro streets as we came through.Poor old Coffin! It is all mystery to me--mystery on mystery!But how on earth should my name have come up in connection with him?"
"Why, about your teaching him navigation, sir."
Captain Branscome passed a hand over his forehead.
"Navigation? Yes; to be sure, I taught him navigation--or, rather,tried to. But what of that?"
"Well, sir, Miss Belcher seemed to think it suspicious."
He reached out a hand, and, taking the glasses from me, sat down uponthe stone base of the flagstaff and began feebly to polish them.
"Impossible!" he said faintly, as if to himself; then aloud:"The man was a friend of yours, too, wasn't he?"
"Yes, sir; if you mean Captain Coffin, he was a friend of mine."
"And of mine; and, as you say, he came to me to learn navigation.Now, what connection there can be between that and his being murdereda dozen miles inland--"
But here he broke off, and we both looked up and across the streamas, with a click of the latch, the door there creaked and opened, andMiss Belcher entered the garden. She wore an orange-coloureddressing-gown, top-boots to guard her ankles from the morning dew, ared kerchief tied over her brow to keep her iron-grey locks in place,and over it her customary beaver hat--_et vera incessu patit dea_.Even thus attired did Miss Belcher, a goddess of the dawn, comestriding over the footbridge and across the turf to us; and theeffect of the apparition upon Captain Branscome's nerves, after anight of travel alongside Russell's van, I can only surmise.I did not observe it, having for the moment no eyes for him.
"Hallo!" said Miss Belcher, walking straight up to us, and halting,with a hand planted, washerwoman fashion, on either hip, as CaptainBranscome staggered to his feet and saluted. "Hallo! who's this?"
"Captain Branscome, ma'am," stammered I.
"I thought as much. And what is Captain Branscome doing here?"
"By your leave, ma'am," said Captain Branscome, "I--I was justdropping in for a talk here with my friend Harry Brooks."
"H'm!" sniffed Miss Belcher, and eyed him up and down for a full tenseconds with an uncompromising stare. "As an explanation, sir, youwill allow that to be a trifle unsatisfactory. What have you beeneating lately?"
"Madam?"
Captain Branscome stared at her in weak bewilderment; and, indeed,the snort which accompanied Miss Belcher's question seemed to accusehim of impregnating the morning air with a scent of onions.
"You can answer a plain question, I hope?" said she. "When did youeat last, and what was it?"
"To be precise, ma'am--though I don't understand you--it was anapple, and about--let me see--seven hours ago."
Miss Belcher turned to me and nodded.
"In other words, the man's starving. I don't blame you, HarryBrooks. One can't look for old heads on young shoulders. But, forgoodness' sake, take him into the house and give him something toeat!"
"Madam--" again began Captain Branscome, still a prey to that mentalparalysis which Mrs. Belcher's costume and appearance ever producedupon strangers, and for which she never made the smallest allowance.
"Don't tell me!" she snapped. "I breed stock and I buy 'em. I knowthe signs."
"I was about to suggest, ma'am, that--travel-stained as I am--a washand a shave would be even more refreshing."
"H'm! You're one of those people--eh?--that study appearances?"(In the art of disconcerting by simple interrogation I newer knewMiss Belcher's peer, whether for swiftness, range, or variety.)"Brought a razor with you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Take him to the house, Harry; but first show me where the hens havebeen laying."
Half an hour later, as Captain Branscome, washed, brushed, andfreshly shaven, descended to the breakfast-parlour, Miss Belcherentered the house by the back door, with her hat full of new-laideggs.
"Nothing like a raw egg to start the day upon," she announced."I suck 'em, for my part; but some prefer 'em beaten up in a dish oftea."
She suited the action to the word, and beat up one in the Captain'steacup while Plinny carved him a slice of ham.
"Ladies," he protested, "I am ashamed. I do not deserve thishospitality. If you would allow me first to tell my story!"
"_You're_ all right," said Miss Belcher. "Couldn't hurt a fly, ifyou wanted to. There! Eat up your breakfast, and then you can tellus all about it."
The two ladies had, each in her way, a knack of making her meaningclear without subservience to the strict forms of speech.
"It will be a weight off one's mind," declared Plinny, "even if itshould prove to be the last straw."
"There's one thing to be thankful for," chimed in Miss Belcher,"and that is, Jack Rogers has gone to St. Mawes. When there'sserious business to be discussed I always thank a Providence thatclears the men out of the way."
I glanced at Captain Branscome. Assuredly he had come with nointention at all of unbosoming himself before a couple of ladies.He desired--desired desperately, I felt sure--to confide in me alone.But Miss Belcher's off-handish air of authority completely nonplussedhim; he sat helplessly fidgeting with his breakfast-plate.
/> "To tell you the truth, ladies," he began, "I had not expected this--this audience. It finds me, in a manner of speaking, unprepared."He ran a finger around the edge of his saucer after the manner of oneperforming on the musical glasses, and threw a hunted glance at thewindow, as though for a way of escape. "My name, ladies, isBranscome. I was once well-to-do, and commanded a packet in theservice of his Majesty's Postmasters-General. But times have alteredwith me, and I am now an usher in a school, and a very poor man."
He paused; looked up at Miss Belcher, who had squared her elbows onthe table in very unladylike fashion; and cleared his throat beforeproceeding--
"You will excuse me for mentioning this, but it is an essential partof my story."
"The Stimcoes," suggested Miss Belcher, "didn't pay up--eh?"
"Mr. Stimcoe--though a scholar, ma'am--has suffered from time to timefrom pecuniary embarrassment."
"--Traceable to drink," interpolated Miss Belcher, with a nod towardsPlinny. "No, sir; you need not look at Harry: _he_ has told usnothing. I formed my own conclusions."
"Mrs. Stimcoe, ma'am--for I should tell you she keeps the purse--istoo often unable to make two ends meet, as the saying is. I believeshe paid when she could, but somehow my salary has always been inarrear. I have used remonstrance with her, before now, to a degreewhich it shames me to remember; yet, in spite of it, I have sometimesfound myself on a Saturday, after a week's work, without a loaf ofbread in the cupboard. I doubt, ma'am, if any one who has notexperienced it can wholly understand the power of mere hunger todegrade a man; to what lengths he can be urged, willy-nilly, as itwere, by the instinct to satisfy it. There were Sabbaths, ma'am,when to attend divine worship seemed a mockery; the craving drove meaway from all congregations of Christian men and out into the fields,where--I tell it with shame, ma'am--I have stolen turnips and eatenthem raw, loathing the deed even worse than I loathed the vegetable,for the taste of which--I may say--I have a singular aversion.Well, among my pupils was Harry here, whom I discovered to be the sonof an old friend of mine. I dare to call the late Major James Brooksa friend in spite of the difference between our stations in life--adifference he himself was good enough to forget. Our acquaintancebegan on the _Londonderry_ transport, which I commanded, and in whichI brought him home from Corunna to Plymouth in the January of 1809.It ended with the conclusion of that short and anxious passage.But I had always remembered Major Brooks as one who approached, ifever man did, the ideal of an officer and a gentleman. Now at first,ladies, the discovery suggested no thought to me beyond thepleasure of knowing that my old friend was alive and hale, and thehope of seeing Harry grow up to be as good a man as his father.But by-and-by I found a thought waking and growing, and awake againand itching after I had done my best to kill it, that the Major mightbe moved by the story of an old shipmate brought so low. God forgiveme, ladies!" Captain Branscome put up a hand to cover his brow."The very telling of it degrades me over again; but I came here tomake a clean breast, and there is no other way. I had cross-examinedHarry about the Major and his habits--not always allowing to myselfwhy I asked him many trivial questions. And then suddenly thetemptation came to a head. Certain Englishmen discharged from theFrench war-prisons were landed at Plymouth. The town turned out towelcome the poor fellows home, and the Mayor entertained them at abanquet, to which also he invited some two hundred townsmen.Among the guests he was good enough to include me; for it has been aconsolation to me, ladies, and a source of pride, that my friends inFalmouth have not withdrawn in adversity the respect which in olddays my uniform commanded."
"Captain Branscome is not telling you the half of it," I broke ineagerly. "Every one in Falmouth knows him to be a hero. Why, he hasa sword of honour at home, given him for one of the bravest battlesever fought!"
"Gently, boy--gently!" Captain Branscome corrected me, with a smile,albeit a sad one. "Youth is generous, ladies; it sees these thingsthrough a haze which colours and magnifies them, and--and it's a verypoor kind of hero you'll consider me before I have done. Where wasI? Ah, yes, to be sure--the banquet. His Worship can little haveguessed what his invitation meant to me, or that, while othersthanked him for a compliment, to me it offered a satisfying meal suchas I had not eaten for months. Mr. Stimcoe had given the school aholiday. In short, I attended.
"I fear, ladies, that the food and the generous wine together musthave turned my head--there is no other explanation; for when the mealwas over and I sat listening to the speeches, but fumbling with aglass of port before me, scarcely with the half-crown in my pocketwhich must carry me over another week's house-keeping, all of asudden the man inside me rose in revolt. I felt such poverty as mineto be unendurable, and that I was a slave, a spiritless fool, to putup with it. There must be hundreds of good, Christian folk in theworld who had only to know to stretch out a hand of help and gladly,as I would have helped such a case in the days of my own prosperity.Remember, I am not putting this forward as a sober plea. I know itnow to be false, self-cheating, the apology that every beggar makesfor himself, the specious argument that every poor man must resistwho would hold fast by his manhood. But there, with the wine in meand the juices of good meat, the temptation took me at unawares andmastered me as I had never allowed it to master me while I hungered.I saw the world in a sudden rosy light; I felt that my pastsufferings had been unnecessary. I thought of Major Brooks--"
"Bless the man!" interjected Miss Belcher. "He's coming to the pointat last."
"Your pardon, ma'am. I will be briefer. I thought of Major Brooks.I took a resolve there and then to extend my holiday; to walk hitherto Minden Cottage, and lay my case before him. The banquet had nosooner broken up than I started. I reached Truro at nightfall, andhired a bed there for sixpence. Early next morning I set forwardagain. By this time the impulse had died out of me, but I stillwalked forward, playing with my intention, always telling myself thatI could relinquish it and turn back to Falmouth, cheating--yes, Ifear deliberately cheating--myself with the assurance until more thanhalf the journey lay behind me, and to turn back would be worse thanpusillanimous. At St. Austell a carrier offered me a lift, andbrought me to Liskeard. Thence I walked forward again, and in thelate afternoon came in sight of Minden Cottage.
"I recognized it at once from Harry's description, and at firstI was minded to walk up and knock boldly at the front door.But remembering also the lad's account of the garden and how theMajor would spend the best part of his day there--and partly, Ifancy, being nervous and uncertain with what form of words to presentmyself--I pulled up at the angle of the house, where the lane comesup alongside the garden wall to join the road, and halted, to collectmyself and study my bearings.
"The time was about twenty minutes after five, and the light prettygood. But the lane is pretty well overgrown, as you know. I lookeddown and along it, and it appeared to end in a tangle or brambles.I turned my attention to the house, and was studying it through myglasses, taking stock of its windows and chimneys, and generally(as you might say) reckoning it up, along with the extent of itsgarden, when, happening to take another glance down the lane, to runa measure of the garden wall--or perhaps a movement caught my eye--I saw a man step across the path between the brambles, out of thegarden, as you might say, and into the plantation opposite. The pathbeing so narrow, I glimpsed him for half a second only. But theglimpse of him gave me a start, for, if to suppose it had beenanywise possible, I could have sworn the man was one I had known inFalmouth and left behind there."
"Captain Coffin!" I exclaimed.
"Ay, lad, Captain Coffin--Captain Danny Coffin. But what should hebe doing at Minden Cottage?"
"The quicker you proceed, sir," said Miss Belcher, rapping the table,"the sooner we are likely to discover."
[1] Russell's waggons--"Russell and Co., Falmouth to London"--werehuge vehicles that plied along the Great West Road under an escort ofsoldiers, and conveyed the bullion and other treasure landed atFalmouth by the Post Office packets. They were drawn, always
at afoot-pace, by teams of six stout horses. The waggoner rode beside ona pony, and inside sat a man armed with pistols and blunderbuss.Poor travellers used these waggons, walking by day, and sleeping bynight beneath the tilt.