The Loss of the Royal George

W.H.G. Kingston (continued 3)

Reading edition

“That was not the truth, my friend,” I observed.

“It was partly true,” answered the landlord, “for you and the old gentleman who came with you were seamen—I could swear to that; and how should I know that you didn’t sink them away there ’twixt this and Portsmouth?”

I had no time to argue, the point with the landlord, though of course he was wrong, as I had to look after Mr Biddulph Stafford. I found him on the shore, trying to engage a wherry to carry him across to Portsmouth; but none of the men would go, as it was blowing harder than ever, with a nasty sea running. At last I heard him offer five guineas to anyone who would cross. I knew by this that he must be in a desperate hurry.

“If you’ll wait half an hour, sir, I’ll do it,” said the owner of a large wherry, coming up to him; “we shall get across just as soon as we should if we were to start now.”

To this Mr Biddulph Stafford agreed, and I saw him go into an inn near the beach, to get some refreshment I suppose, telling the man to call him when he was ready. I now knew that I should have no difficulty in ascertaining whether he had really gone, so I hastened back to the captain, to tell him what I had discovered. He immediately wrote to Harry, to tell him to get ready for a start, and to meet himself and me at “The George,” where we would call for him next morning, if we could get across, on our way to Mr Pengelley’s; adding, that the sooner we could get him recognised by his mother and uncle the better, lest Mr Biddulph Stafford should be taking steps to defeat us. The letter was sent off by the mail-packet that night.

The captain agreed that it would be better that Susan should accompany us, as her evidence was sure to be wanted; so, calling at our cottage on my way back to the shore, I told her to pack up her traps and get a woman to take care of the house during her absence. Though she didn’t like leaving home, she was willing to do anything for Harry’s good, and promised to be ready in time.

On returning to the beach I found that Mr Biddulph Stafford had just put off from the shore, but, with the wetting and tossing he would get, I felt pretty sure he wouldn’t be ready to start till the next morning, if even then.

I daresay Miss Fanny would rather have had Harry come back at once to Ryde, but she was too wise to say anything about the matter. The next morning was fine, and the captain, Susan, and I crossed to Portsmouth, taking with us Miss Stafford’s trunks, which I had had done up in canvas, and painted in such a way that even should Mr Biddulph Stafford get sight of them they might not be recognised by him. We found Harry waiting for us at “The George.” The ship had been paid off the previous day, and he and Reginald were now free. The latter went back to Ryde “to console Miss Fanny,” as he said.

On making inquiries I found that Mr Biddulph Stafford was sleeping at the hotel, and had not yet come out of his room, which convinced me that he had been knocked up the previous day by sea-sickness, and also that he did not know that we were trying to get ahead of him. The postchaise being ordered, we at once started, and, travelling as fast as the horses could get along, without any accident reached Mr Pengelley’s. Harry was of course very anxious to see his mother; and accordingly, leaving Captain Leslie with Mr Pengelley, he and Jerry, with Susan and I, set off for the old house where she and her father lived. Mr Pengelley, Jerry told us, had already somewhat prepared her for the recovery of her son.

As we approached the house we saw in the garden a fair lady dressed in black, who, though thin and careworn, was still very handsome, attending to an old gentleman seated under a tree in an arm-chair. I guessed at once she must be Mrs Stafford. Harry, who had been on the box, got down, while Jerry stumped forward, as fast as his wooden leg would let him, to announce us. He had scarcely begun to speak when, the lady, fixing her eyes on Harry, rushed forward.

“You are indeed my son!” she exclaimed, as Harry supported her in his arms—for, as may be supposed, she was well-nigh overcome with agitation. However, it is more than I can do to describe, all the particulars of the meeting. Harry was also not a little agitated, but, after some time, both he and Mrs Stafford became calm, and she then led him forward towards the old gentleman in the chair, who was, as I of course knew, her father, Mr Hayward. He glanced up at Harry, with a look of astonishment in his countenance.

“Why,” he said, “I thought he had been drowned long, long ago!”

It was evident that he took Harry for his father. It satisfied me that Harry must be very like him. That he was so was further proved when Mrs Stafford produced a miniature of her husband, which might have been that of Harry—though, according to Susan’s notion, it was not so handsome. In the trunks, which Mrs Stafford opened in our presence, she recognised, with many a sigh, various articles, and among them another miniature was discovered still more resembling Harry. When Mrs Stafford heard who Susan was, she embraced her as if she were her sister, and the tears fell down from her eyes as she thanked her over and over again for her loving treatment of Harry.

We left Harry with his mother, and returned to the house of Mr Pengelley, who, with Captain Leslie, had been busy in collecting such other evidence as was thought necessary. The next day Mr Pengelley went for Harry, and took him and his mother to see Sir Mostyn Stafford, whose intellects, though he was an old man, were still perfectly clear. On Harry being introduced to him, after regarding him fixedly for a few minutes he exclaimed, “There stands my nephew; had I not been told that he was Henry’s son, I should have known him instantly.”

Mr Pengelley asked if he was ready to acknowledge him; he replied that he should certainly do so. It appeared that he had been for some time suspicious of Mr Biddulph Stafford, and was very glad to find an heir who was likely to do more credit than that person to his name and title.

I have already spun my yarn to a greater length than I intended. I know nothing of the law, and therefore cannot describe the legal proceedings which took place; but all I know is, that the evidence we brought forward was so overwhelming that Mr Biddulph Stafford was defeated, and that Harry fully established his claim as heir to Sir Mostyn Stafford.

As may be supposed, Captain Leslie no longer objecting, Harry shortly afterwards married Miss Fanny. A few weeks more passed, when, old Mr Hayward dying, Mrs Stafford came to live with her son, who, before a year was over, by the death of his uncle, succeeded to the estate and title. No one was more pleased than Jerry with the result of his exertions. It seemed as if his last task had been accomplished; he was suddenly taken ill, and, though he lingered for some weeks, he gradually sank. Whatever the sins and failings of his youth, he had sincerely mourned for them, and now, enjoying the strong hope of a true Christian, he died. Harry and I followed the old man to his grave; Susan, who had been summoned to give evidence at the trial, returned with me after some time to Ryde, where we have since lived on, having seen another long war brought to a glorious conclusion.

One of my chief amusements is to describe to the members of another generation the battles I have seen fought, the adventures I have gone through, and, what I find interests them more than anything else, to repeat the account I have given in this book of “The Loss of the Royal George.”

The End.