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Mary J. Holmes - "Maggie Miller"

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Various - "Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, April 16, 1919"

Joseph A. Altsheler - "The Shades of the Wilderness"

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The Wing and Wing by J. Fenimore Cooper

J >> J. Fenimore Cooper >> The Wing and Wing




The necessary directions were given, and Ithuel soon stood in the
presence of his judges. The oath was tendered, and Ithuel took it like a
man who had done such things before.

"Your name is Ithuel Bolt?" commenced the Judge Advocate.

"So they call me on board this ship--but if I am to be a witness, let me
swear freely; I don't wish to have words put into my mouth, or idees
chained to me with iron."

As this was said, Ithuel raised his arms and exhibited his handcuffs,
which the master-at-arms had refused to remove, and the officers of the
court had overlooked. A reproachful glance from Cuffe and a whisper from
Yelverton disposed of the difficulty--Ithuel was released.

"Now I can answer more conscientiously," continued the witness, grinning
sardonically; "when iron is eating into the flesh, a man is apt to swear
to what he thinks will be most agreeable to his masters. Go on, 'squire,
if you have anything to say."

"You appear to be an Englishman."

"Do I? Then I appear to be what I am not. I'm a native of the Granite
State, in North America. My fathers went to that region in times long
gone by to uphold their religious idees. The whole country thereabouts
sets onaccountable store by their religious privileges."

"Do you know the prisoner, Ithuel Bolt--the person who is called Raoul
Yvard?"

Ithuel was a little at a loss exactly how to answer this question.
Notwithstanding the high motive which had led his fathers into the
wilderness, and his own peculiar estimate of his religious advantages,
an oath had got to be a sort of convertible obligation with him ever
since the day he had his first connection with a custom-house. A man who
had sworn to so many false invoices was not likely to stick at a trifle
in order to serve a friend; still, by denying the acquaintance, he might
bring discredit on himself, and thus put it out of his power to be of
use to Raoul on some more material point. As between himself and the
Frenchman, there existed a remarkable moral discrepancy; for, while he
who prided himself on his religious ancestry and pious education had a
singularly pliable conscience, Raoul, almost an Atheist in opinion,
would have scorned a simple lie when placed in a situation that touched
his honor. In the way of warlike artifices, few men were more subtle or
loved to practise them oftener than Raoul Yvard; but, the mask aside, or
when he fell back on his own native dignity of mind, death itself could
not have extorted an equivocation from him. On the other hand, Ithuel
had an affection for a lie--more especially if it served himself, or
injured his enemy; finding a mode of reconciling all this to his
spirituality that is somewhat peculiar to fanaticism as it begins to
grow threadbare. On the present occasion, he was ready to say whatever
he thought would most conform to his shipmate's wishes, and luckily he
construed the expression of the other's countenance aright.

"I _do_ know the prisoner, as you call him, 'squire," Ithuel answered,
after the pause that was necessary to come to his conclusion--"I _do_
know him _well_; and a master crittur he is when he fairly gets into a
current of your English trade. Had there been a Rule Yvard on board each
of the Frenchmen at the Nile, over here in Egypt, Nelson would have
found that his letter stood in need of some postscripts, I guess."

"Confine your answers, witness, to the purport of the question," put in
Cuffe, with dignity.

Ithuel stood too much in habitual awe of the captain of his old ship to
venture on an answer; but if looks could have done harm, that important
functionary would not have escaped altogether uninjured. As he said
nothing, the examination proceeded.

"You know him to be Raoul Yvard, the commander of the French privateer
lugger, le Feu-Follet?" continued the Judge Advocate, deeming it
prurient to fortify his record of the prisoner's confession of identity
with a little collateral evidence.

"Why--I _some_ think"--answered Ithuel, with a peculiar provincialism,
that had a good deal of granite in it--"that is, I kind o'
conclude"--catching an assent from Raoul's eye--"oh! yes--of _that_
there isn't the smallest mite of doubt in the world. He's the captain of
the lugger, and a right down good one he is!"

"You were with him in disguise when he came, into the Bay of Naples
yesterday?"

"I in disguise, 'squire!--What have I got to disguise? I am an American
of different callings, all of which I practyse as convenience demands;
being a neutral, I've no need of disguises to go anywhere. I am never
disguised except when my jib is a little bowsed out; and that, you know,
is a come-over that befals most seafaring men at times."

"You need answer nothing concerning yourself that will tend to criminate
you. Do you know with what inducement, or on what business, Raoul Yvard
came into the Bay of Naples yesterday?"

"To own to you the candid truth, 'squire, I do not," answered Ithuel,
simply; for the nature of the tie which bound the young Frenchman so
closely to Ghita was a profound mystery, in all that related to its more
sacred feelings, to a being generally so obtuse on matters of pure
sentiment.

"Captain Rule is a good deal given to prying about on the coast;
and what particular eend he had in view in this expedition I
cannot tell you. His a'r'n'ds in shore, I must own, be sometimes
onaccountable!--Witness the island of Elby, gentlemen."

Ithuel indulged in a small laugh as he made this allusion; for, in his
own way, he had a humor in which he occasionally indulged, after a
manner that belonged to the class of which he was a conspicuous member.

"Never mind what occurred at Elba. Prisoner, do you wish to question the
witness?"

"Etuelle," asked Raoul, "do you not know that I love Ghita Caraccioli?"

"Why, Captain Rule, I know you think so and say so--but I set down all
these matters as somewhat various and onaccountable."

"Have I not often landed on the enemy's coast solely to see her and to
be near her?"

By this time Ithuel, who was a little puzzled at first to understand
what it all meant, had got his cue, and no witness could have acquitted
himself better than he did from that moment.

"That you have," he answered; "a hundred times at least; and right in
the teeth of my advice."

"Was not my sole object, in coming into the Bay yesterday, to find
Ghita, and Ghita only?"

"Just so. Of that, gentlemen, there can be no more question than there
is about Vesuvius standing up at the head of the Bay, smoking like a
brick-kiln. That _was_ Captain Rule's sole a'r'n'd."

"I just understood ye to say, witness," put in Lyon, "and that only a
bit since, that ye did not know the prisoner's motive in coming into the
Bay of Naples. Ye called his behavior unaccountable."

"Very true, sir, and so it is to _me_. I know'd all along that _love_
was at the bottom of it; but _I_ don't call love a _motive_, while I do
call it _unaccountable_. Love's a feelin' and not a nature. That's the
explanation on't. Yes, I know'd it was _love_ for Miss Gyty, but then
that's not a motive in law."

"Answer to the facts. The court will judge of the motive for itself. How
do you know that love for the young woman you mention was Raoul Yvard's
only object in coming into the Bay?"

"One finds out such things by keeping company with a man. Captain Rule
went first to look for the young woman up on the mountain yonder, where
her aunt lives, and I went with him to talk English if it got to be
necessary; and not finding Gyty at home, we got a boat and followed her
over to Naples. Thus, you see, sir, that I have reason to know what
craft he was in chase of the whole time."

As all this was strictly true, Ithuel related it naturally and in a way
to gain some credit.

"You say you accompanied Raoul Yvard, witness, in a visit to the aunt of
the young woman called Ghita Caraccioli," observed Cuffe, in a careless
way that was intended to entrap Ithuel into an unwary answer--"where
did you go from when you set out on your journey?"

"That would depend on the place one kept his reckoning from and the time
of starting. Now, _I_ might say I started from Ameriky, which part of
the world I left some years since; or I might say from Nantes, the port
in which we fitted for sea. As for Captain Rule, he would probably
say Nantes."

"In what manner did you come from Nantes?" continued Cuffe, without
betraying resentment at an answer that might be deemed impertinent; or
surprise, as if he found it difficult to comprehend. "You did not make
the journey on horseback, I should think?"

"Oh, I begin to understand you, Captain Cuffe. Why, if the truth must be
said, we came in the lugger the Few-Folly."

"I supposed as much. And when you went to visit this aunt where did you
leave the lugger?"

"We didn't leave her at all, sir; being under her canvas, our feet were
no sooner in the boat and the line cast off than she left us as if we
had been stuck up like a tree on dry ground."

"Where did this happen?"

"Afloat, of course, Captain Cuffe; such a thing would hardly come to
pass ashore."

"All that I understand; but you say the prisoner left his vessel in
order to visit an aunt of the young woman's; thence he went into the Bay
for the sole purpose of finding the young woman herself. Now, this is an
important fact, as it concerns the prisoner's motives and may affect his
life. The court must act with all the facts before it; as a
commencement, tell us where Raoul Yvard left his lugger to go on yonder
headland."

"I do not think, Captain Cuffe, you've got the story exactly right.
Captain Rule didn't go on the mountain, a'ter all, so much to see the
aunt as to see the niece at the aunt's dwelling; if one would eend
right in a story, he must begin right."

"I left le Feu-Follet, Monsieur le Capitaine," Raoul calmly observed,
"not two cables' length from the very spot where your own ship is now
lying; but it was at an hour of the night when the good people of Capri
were asleep, and they knew nothing of our visit. You see the lugger is
no longer here."

"And do you confirm this story under the solemnity of your oath?"
demanded Cuffe of Ithuel, little imagining how easy it was to the
witness to confirm anything he saw fit in the way he mentioned.

"Sartain; every word is true, gentlemen," answered Ithuel. "It was not
more than a cable's length from this very spot, according to my
judgment."

"And where is the lugger now?" asked Cuffe, betraying the drift of all
his questions in his eagerness to learn more.

Ithuel was not to be led on so hurriedly or so blindly. Affecting a
girlish sort of coyness, he answered, simpering:

"Why, Captain Cuffe, I cannot think of answering a question like that
under the solemnity of an oath, as you call it. No one can know where
the little Folly is but them that's in her."

Cuffe was a little disconcerted at the answer, while Lyon smiled
ironically; the latter then took upon himself the office of
cross-examining, with an opinion of his own penetration and shrewdness
that at least ought to have made him quite equal to encountering one of
Ithuel's readiness in subterfuges.

"We do not expect you to tell us of your own knowledge, witness," he
said, "precisely the position by latitude and longitude, or by the
points of the compass, at this identical instant, of the craft called by
some the le Few-Folly, by others the Few-Follay, and, as it would now
seem, by yourself, the Little Folly; for that, as ye've well obsairved,
can be known only to those who are actually on board her; but ye'll be
remembering, perhaps, the place it was agreed on between you, where ye
were to find the lugger at your return from this hazardous expedition
that ye've been making amang ye, into the Bay of Naples?"

"I object to that question as contrary to law," put in Ithuel, with a
spirit and promptitude that caused the Judge Advocate to start, and the
members of the court to look at each other in surprise.

"Nay, if ye object to the question on the ground that a true ainswer
will be criminating yoursel', ye'll be justified in so doing, by reason
and propriety; but then ye'll consider well the consequences it may have
on your own case, when that comes to be investigated."

"I object on gin'ral principles," said Ithuel. "Whatever Captain Rule
may have said on the subject, admitting that he said anything, just to
bear out the argument (by the way Ithuel called this word arg_oo_ment, a
pronunciation against which we enter our solemn protest); admitting,
_I,_ say, that _he_ said anything on the subject, it cannot be
testimony, as _hear_say evidence is ag'in law all the world over."

The members of the court looked at the Judge Advocate, who returned the
glance with an air of suitable gravity; then, on a motion of Sir
Frederick's, the court was cleared to discuss the point in private.

"How's this, Mr. Judge Advocate?" demanded Cuffe, as soon as the coast
was clear; "it is of the last importance to find where that lugger
is--do you hold that the question is contrary to law?"

"Its importance makes it pertinent, I think, sir, as for the legality, I
do not see how it can be affected by the circumstance that the fact came
up in discourse."

"D'ye think so?" observed Sir Frederick, looking much more profound than
was his wont. "Legality is the boast of English law, and I should
dislike excessively to fail in that great essential. What is _said_ must
be _heard_, to be _repeated_; and this seems very like _hearsay_
testimony. I believe it's admitted all round we must reject _that_."

"What is your opinion, Captain Lyon?" demanded the president.

"The case is somewhat knotty, but it may be untied," returned the Scot,
with a sneer on his hard features. "No need of Alexander and his sword
to cut the rope, I'm thinking, when we bring common sense to bear on the
point. What is the matter to be ascertained? Why, the place which was
agreed on as the point of rendezvous between this Rawl Eevart and his
people. Now, this arrangement must have been made orally, or in writing;
if orally, testimony to the words uttered will not be hearsay, further
than testimony to what a man has seen will be eyesight."

"Quite true, Mr. President and gentlemen!" exclaimed the Judge Advocate,
who was not a little relieved at finding a clue to lead him out of the
difficulty. "If the agreement had been made in writing, then that
writing would have to be produced, if possible, as the best evidence the
case affords; but, being made in words, those words can be sworn to."

Cuffe was much relieved by this opinion, and, as Sir Frederick did not
seem disposed to push his dissent very far, the matter would have been
determined on the spot, but for a love of disputation that formed part
and parcel, to speak legally on a legal subject, of Lyon's moral
temperament.

"I'm agreeing with the Judge Advocate, as to his distinction about the
admissibility of the testimony on the ground of its not being
technically what is called hearsay evidence," he observed; "but a
difficulty suggests itself to my mind touching the pairtenency. A
witness is sworn to speak to the point before the court; but he is not
sworn to discuss all things in heaven and airth. Now, is it pairtenent
to the fact of Rawl Eevart's being a spy, that he made sairtain
agreements to met this or that fellow-creature, in this or that place?
Now, as I comprehend the law, it divides all questions into two great
classes, the pairtenent and the impairtenent, of which the first are
legal and the second illegal."

"I think it would be a great piece of audacity," said Sir Frederick,
disdainfully, "for such a fellow as this Bolt to pretend to call any
question we can put him, impertinent!"

"That's no just the p'int, Sir Frederick; this being altogether a matter
of law, while ye'll be thinking of station and etiquette. Then, there's
two classes of the pairtenent, and two of the impairtenent; one being
legal and logical, as it might be, and the other conventional and civil,
as one may say. There's a nice distinction, latent, between the two."

"I believe the court is of opinion that the question may be put,"
observed Cuffe, who was impatient of the Scotchman's subtleties, bowing
to Sir Frederick, to ask an acquiescence which he immediately received.
"We will re-open the doors, and proceed in the examination."

"The court is of opinion, witness," resumed the Judge Advocate, when
every one was in his place again, "that you must answer the question. In
order that you may understand it, I will now repeat it. Where was it
agreed between Raoul Yvard and his people, that they should meet again?"

"I do not think the people of the lugger had anything to say in the
matter," answered Ithuel, in the most unmoved manner. "If they had, I
knew nothing on't."

The court felt embarrassed; but as it would never do to be thwarted in
this manner, a look of determination was exchanged between the members,
and the examination proceeded.

"If not the people, the officers, then. Where was it agreed between the
prisoner and his _officers_, that the former should find the lugger,
when he returned from his expedition into the Bay?"

"Well, now, gentlemen," answered Ithuel, turning his quid from one
cheek into the other, "I _some_ conclude you've no great acquaintance
with Captain Rule, a'ter all. He is not apt to enter into any agreements
at all. What he wants done, he orders; and what he orders, must
be done."

"What did he _order_, then, as respects the place where the lugger was
to wait for his return?"

"I am sorry to be troublesome, please the court," returned the witness,
with admirable self-possession; "but law is law, all over the world, and
I rather guess this question is ag'in it. In the Granite State, it is
always held, when a thing can be proved by the person who said any
particular words, that the question must be put to him, and not to a
bystander."

"Not if that person is a prisoner, and on his trial," answered the Judge
Advocate, staring to hear such a distinction from such a source; "though
the remark is a good one, in the cases of witnesses purely. You must
answer, therefore."

"It is unnecessary," again interposed Raoul. "I left my vessel here,
where I have told you, and had I made a certain signal, the last night,
from the heights of St. Agata, le Feu-Follet would have stood in near to
the rocks of the Sirens, and taken me off again. As the hour is passed,
and the signal is not likely to be made, it is probable my lieutenant
has gone to another rendezvous, of which the witness knows nothing, and
which, certainly, I shall never betray."

There was so much manliness and quiet dignity in Raoul's deportment,
that whatever he said made an impression. His answer disposed of the
matter, for the moment at least. The Judge Advocate, accordingly, turned
to other inquiries. Little remained, however, to be done. The prisoner
had admitted his identity; his capture, with all the attendant
circumstances, was in proof; and his defence came next.

When Raoul rose to speak, he felt a choking emotion; but it soon left
him, and he commenced in a steady, calm tone, his accent giving point
and interest to many of his expressions.

"Messieurs," said he, "I will not deny my name, my character, or my
manner of life. I am a Frenchman, and the enemy of your country. I am
also the enemy of the King of Naples, in whose territories you found me.
I have destroyed his and your ships. Put me on board my lugger, and I
should do both again. Whoever is the enemy of la France is the enemy of
Raoul Yvard. Honorable seamen, like yourselves, Messieurs, can
understand this. I am young. My heart is not made of rock; evil as it
may be, it can love beauty and modesty and virtue in the other sex. Such
has been my fate--I love Ghita Caraccioli; have endeavored to make her
my wife for more than a year. She has not authorized me to say that my
suit was favored--this I must acknowledge; but she is not the less
admirable for that. We differ in our opinions of religion, and I fear
she left Monte Argentaro because, refusing my hand, she thought it
better, perhaps, that we should not meet again. It is so with maidens,
as you must know, Messieurs. But it is not usual for us, who are less
refined, to submit to such self-denial. I learned whither Ghita had
come, and followed; my heart was a magnet, that her beauty drew after
it, as our needles are drawn toward the pole. It was necessary to go
into the Bay of Naples, among the vessels of enemies, to find her I
loved; and this is a very different thing from engaging in the pitiful
attempts of a spy. Which of you would not have done the same, Messieurs?
You are braves Anglais, and I know you would not hesitate. Two of you
are still youthful, like myself, and must still feel the power of
beauty; even the Monsieur that is no longer a young man has had his
moments of passion, like all that are born of woman. Messieurs, I have
no more to say: you know the rest. If you condemn me, let it be as an
unfortunate Frenchman, whose heart had its weaknesses--not as an
ignominious and treacherous spy."

The earnestness and nature with which Raoul spoke were not without
effect. Could Sir Frederick have had his way, the prisoner would have
been acquitted on the spot. But Lyon was skeptical as to the story of
love, a sentiment about which he knew very little; and there was a
spirit of opposition in him, too, that generally induced him to take the
converse of most propositions that were started. The prisoner was
dismissed, and the court closed its doors, to make up its decision by
itself, in the usual form.

We should do injustice to Cuffe, if we did not say that he had some
feeling in favor of the gallant foe who had so often foiled him. Could
he have had his will at that moment, he would have given Raoul his
lugger, allowed the latter a sufficient start, and then gladly have
commenced a chase round the Mediterranean, to settle all questions
between them. But it was too much to give up the lugger as well as the
prisoner. Then his oath as a judge had its obligations also, and he felt
himself bound to yield to the arguments of the Judge Advocate, who was a
man of technicalities, and thought no more of sentiment than
Lyon himself.

The result of the deliberation, which lasted an hour, was a finding
against the prisoner. The court was opened, the record made up and read,
the offender introduced, and the judgment delivered. The finding was,
"that Raoul Yvard had been caught in disguise, in the midst of the
allied fleets, and that he was guilty as a spy." The sentence was, to
suffer death the succeeding day by hanging at the yard-arm of such ship
as the commander-in-chief might select, on approving of the sentence.

As Raoul expected little else, he heard his doom with steadiness, bowing
with dignity and courtesy to the court, as he was led away to be placed
in irons, as befitted one condemned.



CHAPTER XIX.

"The world's all title-page; there's no contents;
The world's all face; the man who shows his heart,
Is hooted for his nudities, and scorned."

_Night Thoughts_

Bolt had not been tried. His case had several serious difficulties, and
the orders allowed of a discretion. The punishment could scarcely be
less than death, and, in addition to the loss of a stout, sinewy man, it
involved questions of natural right, that were not always pleasant to be
considered. Although the impressment of American seamen into the British
ships of war was probably one of the most serious moral as well as
political wrongs that one independent nation ever received at the hands
of another, viewed as a practice of a generation's continuance it was
not wholly without some relieving points. There was a portion of the
British marine that disdained to practise it at all; leaving it to the
coarser spirits of the profession to discharge a duty that they
themselves found repugnant to their feelings and their habits. Thus, we
remember to have heard an American seaman say, one who had been present
on many occasions when his countrymen were torn from under their flag,
that in no instance he ever witnessed was the officer who committed the
wrong of an air and manner that he should describe as belonging to the
class of gentlemen on shore. Whenever one of the latter boarded his
vessel, the crew was permitted to pass unquestioned.

Let this be as it might, there is no question that a strong and generous
feeling existed in the breasts of hundreds in the British navy,
concerning the nature of the wrong that was done a foreign people, by
the practice of impressing men from under their flag. Although Cuffe was
too much of a martinet to carry his notions on the subject to a very
refined point, he was too much of a man not to be reluctant to punish
another for doing what he felt he would have done himself, under similar
circumstances, and what he could not but know he would have had a
perfect right to do. It was impossible to mistake one like Ithuel, who
had so many of the Granite peculiarities about him, for anything but
what he was; and so well was his national character established in the
ship, that the _sobriquet_ of The Yankee had been applied to him by his
shipmates from the very first. The fact, therefore, stood him so far in
hand that Cuffe, after a consultation with Winchester, determined not to
put the alleged deserter on trial; but, after letting him remain a short
time in irons, to turn him to duty again, under a pretence that was
often used on such occasions, viz., to give the man an opportunity of
proving his American birth, if he were really what he so strenuously
professed to be. Poor Ithuel was not the only one who was condemned to
this equivocal servitude, hundreds passing weary years of probation,
with the same dim ray of hope, for ever deferred, gleaming in the
distance. It was determined, however, not to put Ithuel on his trial
until the captain had conversed with the admiral on the subject, at
least; and Nelson, removed from the influence of the siren by whom he
was enthralled, was a man inclined to leniency, and of even chivalrous
notions of justice. To such contradictions is even a great mind subject,
when it loses sight of the polar star of its duties!