The Two Admirals (2 page)

England enjoys a wide-spread reputation for her fogs; but little do they
know how much a fog may add to natural scenery, who never witnessed its
magical effects, as it has caused a beautiful landscape to coquette with
the eye, in playful and capricious changes. Our opening scene is in one
of these much derided fogs; though, let it always be remembered, it was
a fog of June, and not of November. On a high head-land of the coast of
Devonshire, stood a little station-house, which had been erected with a
view to communicate by signals, with the shipping, that sometimes lay at
anchor in an adjacent roadstead. A little inland, was a village, or
hamlet, that it suits our purposes to call Wychecombe; and at no great
distance from the hamlet itself, surrounded by a small park, stood a
house of the age of Henry VII., which was the abode of Sir Wycherly
Wychecombe, a baronet of the creation of King James I., and the
possessor of an improveable estate of some three or four thousand a
year, which had been transmitted to him, through a line of ancestors,
that ascended as far back as the times of the Plantagenets. Neither
Wychecombe, nor the head-land, nor the anchorage, was a place of note;
for much larger and more favoured hamlets, villages, and towns, lay
scattered about that fine portion of England; much better roadsteads and
bays could generally be used by the coming or the parting vessel; and
far more important signal-stations were to be met with, all along that
coast. Nevertheless, the roadstead was entered when calms or adverse
winds rendered it expedient; the hamlet had its conveniences, and, like
most English hamlets, its beauties; and the hall and park were not
without their claims to state and rural magnificence. A century since,
whatever the table of precedency or Blackstone may say, an English
baronet, particularly one of the date of 1611, was a much greater
personage than he is to-day; and an estate of £4000 a year, more
especially if not rack-rented, was of an extent, and necessarily of a
local consequence, equal to one of near, or quite three times the same
amount, in our own day. Sir Wycherly, however, enjoyed an advantage that
was of still greater importance, and which was more common in 1745, than
at the present moment. He had no rival within fifteen miles of him, and
the nearest potentate was a nobleman of a rank and fortune that put all
competition out of the question; one who dwelt in courts, the favourite
of kings; leaving the baronet, as it might be, in undisturbed enjoyment
of all the local homage. Sir Wycherly had once been a member of
Parliament, and only once. In his youth, he had been a fox-hunter; and a
small property in Yorkshire had long been in the family, as a sort of
foothold on such enjoyments; but having broken a leg, in one of his
leaps, he had taken refuge against
ennui
, by sitting a single session
in the House of Commons, as the member of a borough that lay adjacent to
his hunting-box. This session sufficed for his whole life; the good
baronet having taken the matter so literally, as to make it a point to
be present at all the sittings; a sort of tax on his time, which, as it
came wholly unaccompanied by profit, was very likely soon to tire out
the patience of an old fox-hunter. After resigning his seat, he retired
altogether to Wychecombe, where he passed the last fifty years,
extolling England, and most especially that part of it in which his own
estates lay; in abusing the French, with occasional inuendoes against
Spain and Holland; and in eating and drinking. He had never travelled;
for, though Englishmen of his station often did visit the continent, a
century ago, they oftener did not. It was the courtly and the noble, who
then chiefly took this means of improving their minds and manners; a
class, to which a baronet by no means necessarily belonged. To conclude,
Sir Wycherly was now eighty-four; hale, hearty, and a bachelor. He had
been born the oldest of five brothers; the cadets taking refuse, as
usual, in the inns of court, the church, the army, and the navy; and
precisely in the order named. The lawyer had actually risen to be a
judge, by the style and appellation of Baron Wychecombe; had three
illegitimate children by his housekeeper, and died, leaving to the
eldest thereof, all his professional earnings, after buying commissions
for the two younger in the army. The divine broke his neck, while yet a
curate, in a fox-hunt; dying unmarried, and so far as is generally
known, childless. This was Sir Wycherly's favourite brother; who, he was
accustomed to say, "lost his life, in setting an example of field-sports
to his parishioners." The soldier was fairly killed in battle, before he
was twenty; and the name of the sailor suddenly disappeared from the
list of His Majesty's lieutenants, about half a century before the time
when our tale opens, by shipwreck. Between the sailor and the head of
the family, however, there had been no great sympathy; in consequence,
as it was rumoured, of a certain beauty's preference for the latter,
though this preference produced no
suites
, inasmuch as the lady died a
maid. Mr. Gregory Wychecombe, the lieutenant in question, was what is
termed a "wild boy;" and it was the general impression, when his parents
sent him to sea, that the ocean would now meet with its match. The hopes
of the family centred in the judge, after the death of the curate, and
it was a great cause of regret, to those who took an interest in its
perpetuity and renown, that this dignitary did not marry; since the
premature death of all the other sons had left the hall, park, and
goodly farms, without any known legal heir. In a word, this branch of
the family of Wychecombe would be extinct, when Sir Wycherly died, and
the entail become useless. Not a female inheritor, even, or a male
inheritor through females, could be traced; and it had become imperative
on Sir Wycherly to make a will, lest the property should go off, the
Lord knew where; or, what was worse, it should escheat. It is true, Tom
Wychecombe, the judge's eldest son, often gave dark hints about a
secret, and a timely marriage between his parents, a fact that would
have superseded the necessity for all devises, as the property was
strictly tied up, so far as the lineal descendants of a certain
old
Sir Wycherly were concerned; but the present Sir Wycherly had seen his
brother, in his last illness, on which occasion, the following
conversation had taken place.

"And now, brother Thomas," said the baronet, in a friendly and consoling
manner; "having, as one may say, prepared your soul for heaven, by these
prayers and admissions of your sins, a word may be prudently said,
concerning the affairs of this world. You know I am childless—that is
to say,—"

"I understand you, Wycherly," interrupted the dying man, "you're a
bachelor
."

"That's it, Thomas; and bachelors
ought
not to have children. Had our
poor brother James escaped that mishap, he might have been sitting at
your bed-side at this moment, and
he
could have told us all about it.
St. James I used to call him; and well did he deserve the name!"

"St. James the Least, then, it must have been, Wycherly."

"It's a dreadful thing to have no heir, Thomas! Did you ever know a case
in your practice, in which another estate was left so completely without
an heir, as this of ours?"

"It does not often happen, brother; heirs are usually more abundant than
estates."

"So I thought. Will the king get the title as well as the estate,
brother, if it should escheat, as you call it?"

"Being the fountain of honour, he will be rather indifferent about the
baronetcy."

"I should care less if it went to the next sovereign, who is English
born. Wychecombe has always belonged to Englishmen."

"That it has; and ever will, I trust. You have only to select an heir,
when I am gone, and by making a will, with proper devises, the property
will not escheat. Be careful to use the full terms of perpetuity."

"Every thing was so comfortable, brother, while you were in health,"
said Sir Wycherly, fidgeting; "you were my natural heir—"

"Heir of entail," interrupted the judge.

"Well, well,
heir
, at all events; and
that
was a prodigious comfort
to a man like myself, who has a sort of religious scruples about making
a will. I have heard it whispered that you were actually married to
Martha; in which case, Tom might drop into our shoes, so readily,
without any more signing and sealing."

"A
filius nullius
," returned the other, too conscientious to lend
himself to a deception of that nature.

"Why, brother, Tom often seems to me to favour such an idea, himself."

"No wonder, Wycherly, for the idea would greatly favour him. Tom and his
brothers are all
filii nullorum
, God forgive me for that same wrong."

"I wonder neither Charles nor Gregory thought of marrying before they
lost their lives for their king and country," put in Sir Wycherly, in an
upbraiding tone, as if he thought his penniless brethren had done him an
injury in neglecting to supply him with an heir, though he had been so
forgetful himself of the same great duty. "I did think of bringing in a
bill for providing heirs for unmarried persons, without the trouble and
responsibility of making wills."

"That would have been a great improvement on the law of descents—I hope
you wouldn't have overlooked the ancestors."

"Not I—everybody would have got his rights. They tell me poor Charles
never spoke after he was shot; but I dare say, did we know the truth, he
regretted sincerely that he never married."

"There, for once, Wycherly, I think you are likely to be wrong. A
femme
sole
without food, is rather a helpless sort of a person."

"Well, well, I wish he had married. What would it have been to me, had
he left a dozen widows?"

"It might have raised some awkward questions as to dowry; and if each
left a son, the title and estates would have been worse off than they
are at present, without widows or legitimate children."

"Any thing would be better than having no heir. I believe I'm the first
baronet of Wychecombe who has been obliged to make a will!"

"Quite likely," returned the brother, drily; "I remember to have got
nothing from the last one, in that way. Charles and Gregory fared no
better. Never mind, Wycherly, you behaved like a father to us all."

"I don't mind signing cheques, in the least; but wills have an
irreligious appearance, in my eyes. There are a good many Wychecombes,
in England; I wonder some of them are not of our family! They tell me a
hundredth cousin is just as good an heir, as a first-born son."

"Failing nearer of kin. But we have no hundredth cousins of the
whole
blood
."

"There are the Wychecombes of Surrey, brother Thomas—?"

"Descended from a bastard of the second baronet, and out of the line of
descent, altogether."

"But the Wychecombes of Hertfordshire, I have always heard were of our
family, and legitimate."

"True, as regards matrimony—rather too much of it, by the way. They
branched off in 1487, long before the creation, and have nothing to do
with the entail; the first of their line coming from old Sir Michael
Wychecombe, Kt. and Sheriff of Devonshire, by his second wife Margery;
while we are derived from the same male ancestor, through Wycherly, the
only son by Joan, the first wife. Wycherly, and Michael, the son of
Michael and Margery, were of the half-blood, as respects each other, and
could not be heirs of blood. What was true of the ancestors is true of
the descendants."

"But we came of the same ancestor, and the estate is far older than
1487."

"Quite true, brother; nevertheless, the half-blood can't take; so says
the perfection of human reason."

"I never could understand these niceties of the law," said Sir Wycherly,
sighing; "but I suppose they are all right. There are so many
Wychecombes scattered about England, that I should think some one among
them all might be my heir!"

"Every man of them bears a bar in his arms, or is of the half-blood."

"You are quite sure, brother, that Tom is a
filius nullus
?" for the
baronet had forgotten most of the little Latin he ever knew, and
translated this legal phrase into "no son."

"
Filius nullius
, Sir Wycherly, the son of nobody; your reading would
literally make Tom nobody; whereas, he is only the son of nobody."

"But, brother, he is your son, and as like you, as two hounds of the
same litter."

"I am
nullus
, in the eye of the law, as regards poor Tom; who, until
he marries, and has children of his own, is altogether without legal
kindred. Nor do I know that legitimacy would make Tom any better; for he
is presuming and confident enough for the heir apparent to the throne,
as it is."

"Well, there's this young sailor, who has been so much at the station
lately, since he was left ashore for the cure of his wounds. 'Tis a most
gallant lad; and the First Lord has sent him a commission, as a reward
for his good conduct, in cutting out the Frenchman. I look upon him as a
credit to the name; and I make no question, he is, some way or other, of
our family."

"Does he claim to be so?" asked the judge, a little quickly, for he
distrusted men in general, and thought, from all he had heard, that some
attempt might have been made to practise on his brother's simplicity. "I
thought you told me that he came from the American colonies?"

"So he does; he's a native of Virginia, as was his father before him."

"A convict, perhaps; or a servant, quite likely, who has found the name
of his former master, more to his liking than his own. Such things are
common, they tell me, beyond seas."

"Yes, if he were anything but an American, I might wish he were my
heir," returned Sir Wycherly, in a melancholy tone; "but it would be
worse than to let the lands escheat, as you call it, to place an
American in possession of Wychecombe. The manors have always had English
owners, down to the present moment, thank God!"