The Two Admirals (32 page)

"Now, my good sir, we come to the pounds—no—guineas? You like that
better—well, I confess that it sounds better on the ear, and is more in
conformity with the habits of gentlemen. Will you now bequeath guineas?
Good—first name the legatee—is that right, Sir Reginald?"

"Quite right, Sir Gervaise; and Sir Wycherly will understand that he now
names the first person to whom he wishes to bequeath any thing else."

"Milly," muttered the sick man.

"What? Mills!—the mills go with the lands, Sir Reginald?"

"He means Miss Mildred Dutton," eagerly interposed Wycherly, though with
sufficient modesty.

"Yes—right—right," added the testator. "Little Milly—Milly
Dutton—good little Milly."

Sir Gervaise hesitated, and looked round at Bluewater, as much as to say
"this is bringing coals to Newcastle;" but Atwood took the idea, and
wrote the bequest, in the usual form.

"'I give and bequeath to Mildred Dutton,'" he read aloud, "'daughter of
Francis Dutton of the Royal Navy, the sum of —' what sum shall I fill
the blank with, Sir Wycherly?"

"Three—three—yes, three."

"Hundreds or thousands, my good sir?" asked Sir Gervaise, a little
surprised at the amount of the bequest.

"Guineas—three—thousand—guineas—five per cents."

"That's as plain as logarithms. Give the young lady three thousand
guineas in the fives, Atwood."

"'I give and bequeath to Mildred Dutton, daughter of Francis Dutton of
the Royal Navy, the sum of three thousand guineas in the five per cent.
stocks of this kingdom.' Will that do, Sir Wycherly?"

The old man looked at Mildred and smiled benevolently; for, at that
moment, he felt he was placing the pure and lovely girl above the
ordinary contingencies of her situation, by rendering her independent.

"Whose name shall we next insert, Sir Wycherly?" resumed the
vice-admiral. "There must be many more of these guineas left."

"Gregory—and—James—children of my brother Thomas—Baron
Wychecombe—five thousand guineas each," added the testator, making a
great effort to express his meaning as clearly as possible.

He was understood; and, after a short consultation with the
vice-admiral, Atwood wrote out the devise at length.

"'I give and bequeath to my nephews, Gregory and James Wychecombe, the
reputed sons of my late brother, Thomas Wychecombe, one of the Barons of
His Majesty's Exchequer, the sum of five thousand guineas, each, in the
five per cent. funded debt of this kingdom.'"

"Do you approve of the devise, Sir Wycherly? if so, make the usual sign
of assent?"

Sir Wycherly complied, as in all the previous cases of his approval.

"Whose name shall we next insert, in readiness for a legacy, Sir
Wycherly?" asked the admiral.

Here was a long pause, the baronet evidently turning over in his mind,
what he had done, and what yet remained to do.

"Spread yourselves, my friends, in such a way as to permit the testator
to see you all," continued the vice-admiral, motioning with his hand to
widen the circle around the bed, which had been contracted a little by
curiosity and interest; "stand more this way,
Lieutenant Wycherly
Wychecombe
, that the ladies may see and be seen; and you, too, Mr.
Thomas Wychecombe, come further in front, where your uncle will observe
you."

This speech pretty exactly reflected the workings of the speaker's mind.
The idea that Wycherly was a natural child of the baronet's,
notwithstanding the Virginian story, was uppermost in his thoughts; and,
taking the supposed fact in connection with the young man's merit, he
earnestly desired to obtain a legacy for him. As for Tom, he cared
little whether his name appeared in the will or not. Justice was now
substantially done, and the judge's property being sufficient for his
wants, the present situation of the lately reputed heir excited but
little sympathy. Nevertheless, Sir Gervaise thought it would be
generous, under the circumstances, to remind the testator that such a
being as Tom Wychecombe existed.

"Here is your nephew, Mr. Thomas, Sir Wycherly," he said; "is it your
wish to let his name appear in your will?"

The sick man smiled coldly; but he moved his head, as much as to imply
assent.

"'I give and bequeath to Thomas Wychecombe, the eldest reputed son of my
late brother, Thomas, one of the Barons of His Majesty's Exchequer,'"
read Atwood, when the clause was duly written; "'the sum of —, in the
five per cent. stocks of this kingdom.'"

"What sum will you have inserted, Sir Wycherly?" asked the vice-admiral.

"Fifty—fifty—
pounds
" said the testator, in a voice clearer and
fuller than he had before used that day.

The necessary words were immediately inserted; the clause, as completed,
was read again, and the approval was confirmed by a distinctly
pronounced "yes." Tom started, but, as all the others maintained their
self-command, the business of the moment did not the less proceed.

"Do you wish any more names introduced into your will, Sir Wycherly?"
asked the vice-admiral. "You have bequeathed but—a-a-a—how much—hey!
Atwood?—ay, ten and three are thirteen, and fifty
pounds
, make
£13,180; and I hear you have £20,000 funded, besides loose cash, beyond
a doubt."

"Ann Larder—Samuel Cork—Richard Bitts—David Brush—Phoebe Keys," said
Sir Wycherly, slowly, giving time after each pause, for Atwood to write;
naming his cook, butler, groom, valet or body-servant, and housekeeper,
in the order they have been laid before the reader.

"How much to each, Sir Wycherly?—I see Atwood has made short work, and
put them all in the same clause—that will never do, unless the legacies
are the same."

"Good—good—right," muttered the testator;
"£200—each—£1000—all—money—money."

This settled the point, and the clause was regularly written, read, and
approved.

"This raises the money bequests to £14,180, Sir Wycherly—some 6 or
£7000 more must remain to be disposed of. Stand a little further this
way, if you please, Mr.
Wycherly
Wychecombe, and allow the ladies more
room. Whose name shall we insert next, sir?"

Sir Wycherly, thus directed by the eager desire of the admiral to serve
the gallant lieutenant, fastened his eyes on the young man, regarding
him quite a minute in silent attention.

"Virginian—same name—American—colonies—good lad—
brave
lad—£1000," muttered the sick man between his teeth; and, yet so
breathless was the quiet of the chamber, at that moment, every syllable
was heard by all present. "Yes—£1000—Wycherly Wychecombe—royal
navy—"

Atwood's pen was running rapidly over the paper, and had just reached
the name of the contemplated legatee, when his hand was arrested by the
voice of the young man himself.

"Stop, Mr. Atwood—do not insert any clause in my favour!" cried
Wycherly, his face the colour of crimson, and his chest heaving with the
emotions he felt it so difficult to repress. "I decline the legacy—it
will be useless to write it, as I will not receive a shilling."

"Young sir," said Sir Gervaise, with a little of the severity of a
superior, when he rebukes an interior, in his manner; "you speak
hastily. It is not the office of an auditor or of a spectator, to repel
the kindness of a man about to pass from the face of the earth, into the
more immediate presence of his God!"

"I have every sentiment of respect for Sir Wycherly Wychecombe,
sir;—every friendly wish for his speedy recovery, and a long evening to
his life; but, I will accept of the money of no man who holds my country
in such obvious distaste, as, it is apparent, the testator holds mine."

"You are an Englishman, I believe,
Lieutenant
Wychecombe; and a
servant of King George II.?"

"I am
not
an Englishman, Sir Gervaise Oakes—but an American; a
Virginian, entitled to all the rights and privileges of a British
subject. I am no more an Englishman, than Dr. Magrath may lay claim to
the same character."

"This is putting the case strongly,—hey! Atwood?" answered the
vice-admiral, smiling in spite of the occasion. "I am far from saying
that you are an Englishman, in all senses, sir; but you are one in the
sense that gives you national character and national rights. You are a
subject
of
England
."

"No, Sir Gervaise; your pardon. I am the subject of George II., but in
no manner a subject of
England
. I am, in one sense, perhaps, a subject
of the British empire; but I am not the less a Virginian, and an
American. Not a shilling of any man's money will I ever touch, who
expresses his contempt for either."

"You forget yourself, young man, and overlook the future. The hundred or
two of prize-money, bought at the expense of your blood, in the late
affair at Groix, will not last for ever."

"It is gone, already, sir, every shilling of it having been sent to the
widow of the boatswain who was killed at my side. I am no beggar, Sir
Gervaise Oakes, though only an American. I am the owner of a plantation,
which affords me a respectable independence, already; and I do not serve
from necessity, but from choice. Perhaps, if Sir Wycherly knew this, he
would consent to omit my name. I honour and respect him; would gladly
relieve his distress, either of body or mind; but I cannot consent to
accept his money when offered on terms I consider humiliating."

This was said modestly, but with a warmth and sincerity which left no
doubt that the speaker was in earnest. Sir Gervaise too much respected
the feelings of the young man to urge the matter any further, and he
turned towards the bed, in expectation of what the sick man might next
say. Sir Wycherly heard and understood all that passed, and it did not
fail to produce an impression, even in the state to which he was
reduced. Kind-hearted, and indisposed to injure even a fly, all the
natural feelings of the old man resumed their ascendency, and he would
gladly have given every shilling of his funded property to be able
freely to express his compunction at having ever uttered a syllable that
could offend sensibilities so noble and generous. But this exceeded his
powers, and he was fain to do the best he could, in the painful
situation in which he was placed.

"Noble fellow!" he stuttered out; "honour to name—come here—Sir
Gervaise—bring here—"

"I believe it is the wish of Sir Wycherly, that you would draw near the
bed, Mr. Wychecombe of
Virginia
," said the vice-admiral, pithily,
though he extended a hand to, and smiled kindly on, the youth as the
latter passed him in compliance.

The sick man now succeeded, with a good deal of difficulty, in drawing a
valuable signet-ring from a finger.—This ring bore the Wychecombe arms,
engraved on it. It was without the bloody hand, however; for it was far
older than the order of baronets, having, as Wycherly well knew, been
given by one of the Plantagenet Dukes to an ancestor of the family,
during the French wars of Henry VI., and that, too, in commemoration of
some signal act of gallantry in the field.

"Wear this—noble fellow—honour to name," said Sir Wycherly. "
Must
be
descended—all Wychecombes descended—him—"

"I thank you, Sir Wycherly, for this present, which I prize as it ought
to be prized," said Wycherly, every trace of any other feeling than that
of gratitude having vanished from his countenance. "I may have no claims
to your honours or money; but this ring I need not be ashamed to wear,
since it was bestowed on one who was as much
my
ancestor, as he was
the ancestor of any Wychecombe in England."

"Legitimate?" cried Tom, a fierce feeling of resentment upsetting his
caution and cunning.

"Yes, sir,
legitimate
," answered Wycherly, turning to his
interrogator, with the calmness of one conscious of his own truth, and
with a glance of the eye that caused Tom to shrink back again into the
circle. "I need no
bar
, to enable me to use this seal, which, you may
perceive, Sir Gervaise Oakes, is a
fac simile
of the one I ordinarily
wear, and which was transmitted to me from my direct ancestors."

The vice-admiral compared the seal on Wycherly's watch-chain with that
on the ring, and, the bearings being principally griffins, he was
enabled to see that one was the exact counterpart of the other. Sir
Reginald advanced a step, and when the admiral had satisfied himself, he
also took the two seals and compared them. As all the known branches of
the Wychecombes of Wychecombe, bore the same arms, viz., griffins for
Wychecombe, with three battering-rams quartered, for Wycherly,—he saw,
at once, that the young man habitually carried about his person, this
proof of a common origin. Sir Reginald knew very well that arms were
often assumed, as well as names, and the greater the obscurity of the
individual who took these liberties, the greater was his impunity; but
the seal was a very ancient one, and innovations on personal rights were
far less frequent a century since, than they are to-day. Then the
character and appearance of Wycherly put fraud out of the question, so
far as the young lieutenant himself was concerned. Although the elder
branch of the family, legitimately speaking, was reduced to the helpless
old man who was now stretched upon his death-bed, his own had been
extensive; and it well might be that some cadet of the Wychecombes of
Wychecombe-Regis, had strayed into the colonies and left descendants.
Secretly resolving to look more closely into these facts, he gravely
returned the seals, and intimated to Sir Gervaise that the more
important business before them had better proceed. On this hint, Atwood
resumed the pen, and the vice-admiral his duties.

"There want yet some 6 or £7000 to make up £20,000, Sir Wycherly, which
I understand is the sum you have in the funds. Whose name or names will
you have next inserted?"