The Two Admirals (21 page)

Dutton appeared to be a little shocked as he gazed upon the pallid
features of Sir Wycherly, and he was not sorry when Tom led him aside,
and began to speak confidentially of the future, and of the probable
speedy death of his uncle. Had there been one present, gifted with the
power of reading the thoughts and motives of men, a deep disgust of
human frailties must have come over him, as these two impure spirits
betrayed to him their cupidity and cunning. Outwardly, they were friends
mourning over a mutual probable loss; while inwardly, Dutton was
endeavouring to obtain such a hold of his companion's confidence, as
might pave the way to his own future preferment to the high and
unhoped-for station of a rich baronet's father-in-law; while Tom thought
only of so far mystifying the master, as to make use of him, on an
emergency, as a witness to establish his own claims. The manner in which
he endeavoured to effect his object, however, must be left to the
imagination of the reader, as we have matters of greater moment to
record at this particular juncture.

From the time Sir Wycherly was laid on his bed, Mr. Rotherham had been
seated at the sick man's side, watching the course of his attack, and
ready to interpret any of the patient's feebly and indistinctly
expressed wishes. We say indistinctly, because the baronet's speech was
slightly affected with that species of paralysis which reduces the
faculty to the state that is vulgarly called thick-tongued. Although a
three-bottle man, Mr. Rotherham was far from being without his devout
feelings, on occasions, discharging all the clerical functions with as
much unction as the habits of the country, and the opinions of the day,
ordinarily exacted of divines. He had even volunteered to read the
prayers for the sick, as soon as he perceived that the patient's
recollection had returned; but this kind offer had been declined by Sir
Wycherly, under the clearer views of fitness, that the near approach of
death is apt to give, and which views left a certain consciousness that
the party assembled was not in the best possible condition for that
sacred office. Sir Wycherly revived so much, at last, as to look about
him with increasing consciousness; and, at length, his eyes passed
slowly over the room, scanning each person singly, and with marked
deliberation.

"I know you all—now," said the kind-hearted baronet, though always
speaking thick, and with a little difficulty; "am sorry to give—much
trouble. I have—little time to spare."

"I hope not, Sir Wycherly," put in the vicar, in a consolatory manner;
"you have had a sharp attack, but then there is a good constitution to
withstand it."

"My time—short—feel it here," rejoined the patient, passing his hand
over his forehead.

"Note that, Dutton," whispered Tom Wycherly. "My poor uncle intimates
himself that his mind is a little shaken. Under such circumstances, it
would be cruel to let him injure himself with business."

"It cannot be done
legally
, Mr. Thomas—I should think Admiral Oakes
would interfere to prevent it."

"Rotherham," continued the patient, "I will—settle with—world; then,
give—thoughts—to God. Have we—guests—the house?—Men of
family—character?"

"Certainly, Sir Wycherly; Admiral Oakes is in the room, even; and
Admiral Bluewater, is, I believe, still in the house. You invited both
to pass the night with you."

"I remember it—now; my mind—still—confused,"—here Tom Wychecombe
again nudged the master—"Sir Gervaise Oakes—an Admiral—ancient
baronet—man of high honour. Admiral Bluewater, too—relative—Lord
Bluewater; gentleman—universal esteem. You, too, Rotherham; wish my
poor brother James—St. James—used to call him—had been
living;—you—good neighbour—Rotherham."

"Can I do any thing to prove it, my dear Sir Wycherly? Nothing would
make me happier than to know, and to comply with, all your wishes, at a
moment so important!"

"Let all quit—room—but yourself—head feels worse—I cannot delay—"

"'Tis cruel to distress my beloved uncle with business, or conversation,
in his present state," interposed Tom Wychecombe, with emphasis, and, in
a slight degree, with authority.

All not only felt the truth of this, but all felt that the speaker, by
his consanguinity, had a clear right to interfere, in the manner he had.
Still Sir Gervaise Oakes had great reluctance in yielding to this
remonstrance; for, to the distrust he had imbibed of Tom Wychecombe, was
added an impression that his host wished to reveal something of
interest, in connection with his new favourite, the lieutenant. He felt
compelled, notwithstanding, to defer to the acknowledged nephew's better
claims, and he refrained from interfering. Fortunately, Sir Wycherly was
yet in a state to enforce his own wishes.

"Let all quit—room," he repeated, in a voice that was startling by its
unexpected firmness, and equally unexpected distinctness. "All but Sir
Gervaise Oakes—Admiral Bluewater—Mr. Rotherham, Gentlemen—favour to
remain—rest depart."

Accustomed to obey their master's orders, more especially when given in
a tone so decided, the domestics quitted the room, accompanied by
Dutton; but Tom Wychecombe saw fit to remain, as if his presence were to
be a matter of course.

"Do me—favour—withdraw,—Mr. Wychecombe," resumed the baronet, after
fixing his gaze on his nephew for some time, as if expecting him to
retire without this request.

"My beloved uncle, it is I—Thomas, your own brother's son—your next of
kin—waiting anxiously by your respected bed-side. Do not—do
not—confound me with strangers. Such a forgetfulness would break my
heart!"

"Forgive me, nephew—but I wish—alone with these
gentle—head—getting—confused—"

"You see how it is, Sir Gervaise Oakes—you see how it is, Mr.
Rotherham. Ah! there goes the coach that is to take Admiral Bluewater to
his boat. My uncle wished for three witnesses to something, and I can
remain as one of the three."

"Is it your pleasure, Sir Wycherly, to wish to see us alone?" asked Sir
Gervaise, in a manner that showed authority would be exercised to
enforce his request, should the uncle still desire the absence of his
nephew.

A sign from the sick man indicated the affirmative, and that in a manner
too decided to admit of mistake.

"You perceive, Mr. Wychecombe, what are your uncle's wishes," observed
Sir Gervaise, very much in the way that a well-bred superior intimates
to an inferior the compliance he expects; "I trust his desire will not
be disregarded, at a moment like this."

"I am Sir Wycherly Wychecombe's next of kin," said Tom, in a slightly
bullying tone; "and no one has the same right as a relative, and, I may
say, his heir, to be at his bed-side."

"That depends on the pleasure of Sir Wycherly Wychecombe himself, sir.
He
is master here; and, having done me the honour to invite me under
his roof as a guest, and, now, having requested to see me alone, with
others he has expressly named—one of whom you are not—I shall conceive
it my duty to see his wishes obeyed."

This was said in the firm, quiet way, that the habit of command had
imparted to Sir Gervaise's manner; and Tom began to see it might be
dangerous to resist. It was important, too, that one of the
vice-admiral's character and station should have naught to say against
him, in the event of any future controversy; and, making a few
professions of respect, and of his desire to please his uncle, Tom
quitted the room.

A gleam of satisfaction shot over the sick man's countenance, as his
nephew disappeared; and then his eye turned slowly towards the faces of
those who remained.

"Bluewater," he said, the thickness of his speech, and the general
difficulty of utterance, seeming to increase; "the rear-admiral—I want
all—respectable—witnesses in the house."

"My friend has left us, I understand," returned Sir Gervaise, "insisting
on his habit of never sleeping out of his ship; but Atwood must soon be
back; I hope
he
will answer!"

A sign of assent was given; and, then, there was the pause of a minute,
or two, ere the secretary made his appearance. As soon, however, as he
had returned, the three collected around the baronet's bed, not without
some of the weakness which men are supposed to have inherited from their
common mother Eve, in connection with the motive for this singular
proceeding of the baronet.

"Sir Gervaise—Rotherham—Mr. Atwood," slowly repeated the patient, his
eye passing from the face of one to that of another, as he uttered the
name of each; "three witnesses—that will do—Thomas said—must have
three
—three
good
names."

"What can we do to serve you, Sir Wycherly?" inquired the admiral, with
real interest. "You have only to name your requests, to have them
faithfully attended to."

"Old Sir Michael Wychecombe, Kt.—two wives—Margery and Joan. Two
wives—two sons—half-blood—Thomas, James, Charles, and Gregory,
whole
—Sir Reginald Wychecombe,
half
. Understand—hope—gentlemen?"

"This is not being very clear, certainly," whispered Sir Gervaise; "but,
perhaps by getting hold of the other end of the rope, we may under-run
it, as we sailors say, and come at the meaning—we will let the poor man
proceed, therefore. Quite plain, my dear sir, and what have you next to
tell us. You left off without saying only
half
about Sir Reginald."

"Half-blood; only
half
—Tom and the rest, whole. Sir Reginald, no
nullius
—young Tom, a
nullius
."

"A
nullius
, Mr. Rotherham! You understand Latin, sir; what can a
nullius
, mean? No such rope in the ship, hey! Atwood?"

"
Nullius
, or
nullius
, as it ought sometimes to be pronounced, is the
genitive case, singular, of the pronoun
nullus; nullus, nulla, nullum
;
which means, 'no man,' 'no woman,' 'no thing.'
Nullius
means, 'of no
man,' 'of no woman,' 'of no thing.'"

The vicar gave this explanation, much in the way a pedagogue would have
explained the matter to a class.

"Ay-ay—any school-boy could have told that, which is the first form
learning. But what the devil can 'Nom.
nullus, nulla, nullum
; Gen.
nullius, nullius, nullius
,' have to do with Mr. Thomas Wychecombe, the
nephew and heir of the present baronet?"

"That is more than I can inform you, Sir Gervaise," answered the vicar,
stiffly; "but, for the Latin, I will take upon myself to answer, that it
is good."

Sir Gervaise was too-well bred to laugh, but he found it difficult to
suppress a smile.

"Well, Sir Wycherly," resumed the vice-admiral, "this is quite
plain—Sir Reginald is only
half
, while your nephew Tom, and the rest,
are
whole
—Margery and Joan, and all that. Any thing more to tell us,
my dear sir?"

"Tom
not
whole—
nullus
, I wish to say. Sir Reginald
half
—no
nullus
."

"This is like being at sea a week, without getting a sight of the sun! I
am all adrift, now, gentlemen."

"Sir Wycherly does not attend to his cases," put in Atwood, drily. "At
one time, he is in the
genitive
, and then he gets back to the
nominative
; which is leaving us in the
vocative
"

"Come—come—Atwood, none of your gun-room wit, on an occasion so solemn
as this. My dear Sir Wycherly, have you any thing more to tell us? I
believe we perfectly understand you, now. Tom is not
whole
—you wish
to say
nullus
, and not to say
nullius
. Sir Reginald is only
half
,
but he is no
nullus
."

"Yes, sir—that is it," returned the old man, smiling. "
Half
, but no
nullus
. Change my mind—seen too much of the other, lately—Tom, my
nephew—want to make
him
my heir."

"This is getting clearer, out of all question. You wish to make your
nephew, Tom, your heir. But the law does that already, does it not my
dear sir? Mr. Baron Wychecombe was the next brother of the baronet; was
he not, Mr. Rotherham?"

"So I have always understood, sir; and Mr. Thomas Wychecombe must be the
heir at law."

"No—no—
nullus
—
nullus
," repeated Sir Wycherly, with so much
eagerness as to make his voice nearly indistinct; "Sir Reginald—Sir
Reginald—Sir Reginald."

"And pray, Mr. Rotherham, who may this Sir Reginald be? Some old baronet
of the family, I presume."

"Not at all, sir; it is Sir Reginald Wychecombe of Wychecombe-Regis,
Herts; a baronet of Queen Anne's time, and a descendant from a cadet of
this family, I am told."

"This is getting on soundings—I had taken it into my head this Sir
Reginald was some old fellow of the reign of one of the Plantagenets.
Well, Sir Wycherly, do you wish us to send an express into
Hertfordshire, in quest of Sir Reginald Wychecombe, who is quite likely
your executor? Do not give yourself the pain to speak; a sign will
answer."

Sir Wycherly seemed struck with the suggestion, which, the reader will
readily understand, was far from being his real meaning; and then he
smiled, and nodded his head in approbation.

Sir Gervaise, with the prompitude of a man of business, turned to the
table where the vicar had written notes to the medical men, and dictated
a short letter to his secretary. This letter he signed, and in five
minutes Atwood left the room, to order it to be immediately forwarded by
express. When this was done, the admiral rubbed his hands, in
satisfaction, like a man who felt he had got himself cleverly out of a
knotty difficulty.

"I don't see, after all, Mr. Rotherham," he observed to the vicar, as
they stood together, in a corner of the room, waiting the return of the
secretary; "what he lugged in that school-boy Latin for—
nullus, nulla,
nullum
! Can you possibly explain
that
?"