and who purposed sailing that very night for the Port of London. For a while, indeed, he scrupled to set me over, my lack of equipment--for I had not so much with me as a clean shirt--and my great haste to be quit of the country firing his suspicions. However, I sold Swasfield's horse to the keeper of a tavern by the waterside, and adding the money I got thereby to what I held in my pockets, I presently persuaded him; and a light wind springing up about midnight, we weighed anchor and stood out for the sea.
That my purse was now empty occasioned me no great concern, since my cousin, Lord Elmscott, lived at London, in a fine house in Monmouth Square, and I doubted not but what I could instantly procure from him the means to enable me to continue my journey. I was, in truth, infinitely more distressed by the tardiness of our voyage, for towards sunrise the wind died utterly away, and during the next two days we lay becalmed, rocking lazily upon the swell. On the afternoon of the third, being the seventeenth day of the month, a breeze filled our sheets, and we made some progress, although our vessel, which was a ketch and heavily loaded, was a slow sailer at the best. But during the night the breeze quickened into a storm, and, blowing for twelve hours without intermission or abatement, drove us clean from our course, so that on the morning of the eighteenth we were scurrying northwards before it along the coast of Essex.
This last misadventure cast me into the very bottom of despair. I knew that if I were to prove of timely help in Julian's deliverance, I must needs reach Bristol before his trial commenced, the which seemed now plainly impossible; and, atop of this piece of knowledge, my ignorance of the nature of his calamity, and of the service he desired of me, worked in my blood like a fever.
For Julian and myself were linked together in a very sweet and intimate love. I could not, and I tried, point to its beginning. It seemed to have been native within us from our births. We took it from our fathers before us, and when they died we counted it no small part of our inheritance. Our estates, you should know, lay in contiguous valleys of the remote county of Cumberland, and thus we lived out our boyhood in a secluded comradeship. Seldom a day passed but we found a way to meet. Mostly Julian would come swinging across the fells, his otter-dogs yapping at his heels, and all the fresh morning in his voice. Together we would ramble over the slopes, bathe in the tarns and kelds, hunt, climb, argue, ay, and fight too, when we were gravelled for lack of arguments; so that even now, each time that I turn my feet homewards after a period of absence, and catch the first glimpse of these brown hillsides, they become bright and populous with the rich pageantry of our boyish fancies.
But my clearest recollections of those days centre about Scafell, and a certain rock upon the Pillar Mountain in Ennerdale. A common share of peril is surely the stoutest bond of comradeship. You may find exemplars in the story of well-nigh every battle. But to hang half-way up a sheer cliff in the chill eerie silence, where a slip of the heel, a falter of the numbed fingers, would hurl both your companion and yourself upon the stones a hundred yards below--ah, that turns the friend into something closer than even a frère d'armes. At least, so it was with Julian and me.
I think, too, that the very difference between us helped to fortify our love. Each felt the other the complement of his nature. And in later times, when Julian would come down from the Court to Oxford, tricked out in some new French fashion, and with all sorts of fantastical conceits upon his tongue, my rooms seemed to glow as with a sudden shaft of sunlight; and after that he had gone I was ever in two minds whether to send for a tailor, and follow him to Whitehall.
But to return to my journey. On the nineteenth we changed our course, and tacked back to the mouth of the Thames. But it was not until the evening of the twentieth that we cast anchor by London Bridge. From the ship I hurried straight to the house of my cousin, Lord Elmscott, who resided in Monmouth Square, to the north of the town, being minded to borrow a horse of him and some money, and ride forthwith to Bristol. The windows, however, were dark, not a light glimmered anywhere; and knock with what noise I might, for a while I could get no answer to my summons.
At last, just as I was turning away in no little distress of mind--for the town was all strange to me, and I knew no one else to whom I could apply at that late hour--a feeble shuffling step sounded in the passage. I knocked again, and as loudly as I could; the steps drew nearer, the bolts were slowly drawn from their sockets, and the door opened. I was faced by an old man in a faded livery, who held a lighted candle in his hand. Behind him the hall showed black and solitary.
"I am Mr. Morrice Buckler," said I, "and I would have a word with my cousin, Lord Elmscott."
The old man shook his head dolefully.
"Nay, sir," he replied in a thin, quavering voice, "you do ill to seek him here. At White's perchance you may light on him, or at Wood's, in Pall Mall--I know not. But never in his own house while there is a pack of cards abroad."
I waited not to hear the rest of his complaint, but dashed down the steps and set off westwards at a run. I crossed a lonely and noisome plain which I have since heard is named the pest-field, for that many of the sufferers in the late plague are buried there, and came out at the top of St. James' Street. There a stranger pointed out to me White's coffeehouse.
"Is Lord Elmscott within?" I asked of an attendant as I entered.
For reply he looked me over coolly from head to foot.
"And what may be your business with Lord Elmscott?" he asked, with a sneer.
In truth I must have cut but a sorry figure in his eyes, for I was all dusty and begrimed with my five days' travel. But I thought not of that at the time.
"Tell him," said I, "that his cousin, Morrice Buckler, is here, and must needs speak with him." Whereupon the man's look changed to one of pure astonishment. "Be quick, fellow," I cried, stamping my foot; and with a humble "I crave your pardon," he hurried off upon the message. A door stood at the far end of the room, and through this he entered, leaving it ajar. In a moment I heard my cousin's voice, loud and boisterous:
"Show him in! 'Od's wounds, he may change my luck."
With that I followed him. 'Twas a strange sight to me. The room was small, and the floor so thickly littered with cards that it needed the feel of your foot to assure you it was carpeted. A number of gallants in a great disorder of dress stood about a little table whereat were seated a youth barely, I should guess, out of his teens, his face pale, but very indifferent and composed, and over against him my cousin. Elmscott's black peruke was all awry, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes bloodshot and staring.
"Morrice," he cried, "what brings you here in this plight? I believe the fellow took you for a bailiff, and, on my life," he added, surveying me, "I have not the impudence to blame him." Thereupon he addressed himself to the company. "This, gentlemen," says he, "is my cousin, Mr. Morrice Buckler, a very worthy--bookworm."
They all laughed as though there was some wit in the ill-mannered sally; but I had no time to spare for taking heed of their foolishness.
"You can do me a service," I said eagerly.
"You give me news," Elmscott laughed. "'Tis a strange service that I can render. Well, what may it be?"
"I need money for one thing, and----" A roar of laughter broke in upon my words.
"Money!" cries Elmscott. "Lord, that any one should come to me for money!" and he leaned back in his chair laughing as heartily as the best of them. "Why, Morrice, it's all gone--all gone into the devil's whirlpool. Howbeit," he went on, growing suddenly serious, "I will make a bargain with you. Stand by my side here. I have it in my mind that you will bring me luck. Stand by my side, and in return, if I win, I will lend you what help I may."
"Nay, cousin," said I, "my business will not wait."
"Nor mine," he replied, "nor mine. Stand by me! I shall not be long. My last stake's on the table."
He seized hold of my arm as he spoke with something of prayer in his eyes, and reluctantly I consented. In truth, I knew not what else to do. 'Twas plain he was in no mood to hearken to my request, even if he had the means to grant it.
"That's right, lad!" he bawled, and then to the servant: "Brandy! Brandy, d'ye hear! And a great deal of it!