The Two Admirals (30 page)

Sir Reginald then proceeded to explain the law to the other, as we have
already pointed it out to the reader; performing the duty succinctly,
but quite clearly.

"Bless me!—bless me! Sir Reginald," exclaimed the direct-minded and
just
-minded sailor—"here must be some mistake! A fortieth cousin, or
the king, take this estate before yourself, though you are directly
descended from all the old Wychecombes of the times of the
Plantagenets!"

"Such is the common law, Sir Gervaise. Were I Sir Wycherly's
half-brother, or a son by a second wife of our common father, I could
not take from
him
, although that common father had earned the estate
by his own hands, or services."

"This is damnable, sir—damnable—and you'll pardon me, but I can hardly
believe we have such a monstrous principle in the good, honest,
well-meaning laws, of good, honest, well-meaning old England!"

Sir Reginald was one of the few lawyers of his time, who did not
recognize the virtue of this particular provision of the common law; a
circumstance that probably arose from his having so
small
an interest
now in the mysteries of the profession, and so
large
an interest in
the family estate of Wychecombe, destroyed by its
dictum
. He was,
consequently, less surprised, and not at all hurt, at the evident manner
in which the sailor repudiated his statement, as doing violence equally
to reason, justice, and probability.

"Good, honest, well-meaning old England tolerates many grievous things,
notwithstanding, Sir Gervaise," he answered; "among others, it tolerates
the law of the half-blood. Much depends on the manner in which men view
these things; that which seems gold to one, resembling silver in the
eyes of another. Now, I dare say,"—this was said as a feeler, and with
a smile that might pass for ironical or confiding, as the listener
pleased to take it—"Now, I dare say, the clans would tell us that
England tolerates an usurper, while her lawful prince was in banishment;
though
you
and
I
might not feel disposed to allow it."

Sir Gervaise started, and cast a quick, suspicious glance at the
speaker; but there the latter stood, with as open and guileless an
expression on his handsome features, as was ever seen in the countenance
of confiding sixteen.

"Your supposititious case is no parallel," returned the vice-admiral,
losing every shade of suspicion, at this appearance of careless
frankness; "since men often follow their feelings in their allegiance,
while the law is supposed to be governed by reason and justice. But, now
we are on the subject, will you tell me. Sir Reginald, if you also know
what a
nullus
is?"

"I have no farther knowledge of the subject, Sir Gervaise," returned the
other, smiling, this time, quite naturally; "than is to be found in the
Latin dictionaries and grammars."

"Ay—you mean
nullus, nulla, nullum
. Even we sailors know
that
;
as we all go to school before we go to sea. But, Sir Wycherly, in
efforts to make himself understood, called you a 'half-blood.'"

"And quite correctly—I admit such to be the fact; and that I have no
more
legal
claim, whatever on this estate, than you have yourself. My
moral
right, however, may be somewhat better."

"It is much to your credit, that you so frankly admit it, Sir Reginald;
for, hang me, if I think even the judges would dream of raising such an
objection to your succeeding, unless reminded of it."

"Therein you do them injustice, Sir Gervaise; as it is their duty to
administer the laws, let them be what they may."

"Perhaps you are right, sir. But the reason for my asking what a
nullus
is, was the circumstance that Sir Wycherly, in the course of
his efforts to speak, repeatedly called his nephew and heir, Mr. Thomas
Wychecombe, by that epithet."

"Did he, indeed?—Was the epithet, as you well term it,
filius
nullius
?"

"I rather think it was
nullus
—though I do believe the word
filius
was muttered, once or twice, also."

"Yes, sir, this has been the case; and I am not sorry Sir Wycherly is
aware of the fact, as I hear that the young man affects to consider
himself in a different point of view. A
filius nullius
is the legal
term for a bastard—the 'son of nobody,' as you will at once understand.
I am fully aware that such is the unfortunate predicament of Mr. Thomas
Wychecombe, whose father, I possess complete evidence to show, was never
married to his mother."

"And yet, Sir Reginald, the impudent rascal carries in his pocket even,
a certificate, signed by some parish priest in London, to prove the
contrary."

The civil baronet seemed surprised at this assertion of his military
brother; but Sir Gervaise explaining what had passed between himself and
the young man, he could no longer entertain any doubt of the fact.

"Since you have seen the document," resumed Sir Reginald, "it must,
indeed, be so; and this misguided boy is prepared to take any desperate
step in order to obtain the title and the estate. All that he has said
about a will must be fabulous, as no man in his senses would risk his
neck to obtain so hollow a distinction as a baronetcy—we are equally
members of the class, and may speak frankly, Sir Gervaise—and the will
would secure the estate, if there were one. I cannot think, therefore,
that there is a will at all."

"If this will were not altogether to the fellow's liking, would not the
marriage, beside the hollow honour of which you have spoken, put the
whole of the landed property in his possession, under the entail?"

"It would, indeed; and I thank you for the suggestion. If, however, Sir
Wycherly is desirous,
now
, of making a
new
will, and has strength
and mind sufficient to execute his purpose, the
old
one need give us
no concern. This is a most delicate affair for one in my situation to
engage in, sir; and I greatly rejoice that I find such honourable and
distinguished witnesses, in the house, to clear my reputation, should
any thing occur to require such exculpation. On the one side, Sir
Gervaise, there is the danger of an ancient estate's falling into the
hands of the crown, and this, too, while one of no
stain
of blood,
derived from the same honourable ancestors as the last possessor, is in
existence; or, on the other, of its becoming the prey of one of base
blood, and of but very doubtful character. The circumstance that Sir
Wycherly desired my presence, is a great deal; and I trust to you, and
to those with you, to vindicate the fairness of my course. If it's your
pleasure, sir, we will now go to the sick chamber."

"With all my heart. I think, however, Sir Reginald," said the
vice-admiral, as he approached the door; "that even in the event of an
escheat, you would find these Brunswick princes sufficiently liberal to
restore the property. I could not answer for those wandering Scotchmen;
who have so many breechless nobles to enrich; but, I think, with the
Hanoverians, you would be safe."

"The last have certainly one recommendation the most," returned the
other, smiling courteously, but in a way so equivocal that even Sir
Gervaise was momentarily struck by it; "they have fed so well, now, at
the crib, that they may not have the same voracity, as those who have
been long fasting. It would be, however, more pleasant to take these
lands from a Wychecombe—a Wychecombe to a Wychecombe—than to receive
them anew from even the Plantagenet who made the first grant."

This terminated the private dialogue, as the colloquists entered the
hall, just as the last speaker concluded. Wycherly was conversing,
earnestly, with Mrs. Dutton and Mildred, at the far end of the hall,
when the baronets appeared; but, catching the eye of the admiral, he
said a few words hastily to his companions, and joined the two
gentlemen, who were now on their way to the sick man's chamber.

"Here is a namesake, if not a relative, Sir Reginald," observed Sir
Gervaise, introducing the lieutenant; "and one, I rejoice to say, of
whom all of even your honourable name have reason to be proud."

Sir Reginald's bow was courteous and bland, as the admiral proceeded to
complete the introduction; but Wycherly felt that the keen, searching
look he bestowed on himself, was disagreeable.

"I am not at all aware, that I have the smallest claim to the honour of
being Sir Reginald Wychecombe's relative," he said, with cold reserve.
"Indeed, until last evening, I was ignorant of the existence of the
Hertfordshire branch of this family; and you will remember, Sir
Gervaise, that I am a Virginian."

"A Virginian!" exclaimed his namesake, taken so much by surprise as to
lose a little of his self-command, "I did not know, indeed, that any who
bear the name had found their way to the colonies."

"And if they had, sir, they would have met with a set of fellows every
way fit to be their associates, Sir Reginald. We English are a little
clannish—I hate the word, too; it has such a narrow Scotch sound—but
we
are
clannish, although generally provided with garments to our
nether limbs; and we sometimes look down upon even a son, whom the love
of adventure has led into that part of the world. In my view an
Englishman is an Englishman, let him come from what part of the empire
he may. That is what I call genuine liberality, Sir Reginald."

"Quite true, Sir Gervaise; and a Scotchman is a Scotchman, even though
he come from the north of Tweed."

This was quietly said, but the vice-admiral felt the merited rebuke it
contained, and he had the good-nature and the good sense to laugh at it,
and to admit his own prejudices. This little encounter brought the party
to Sir Wycherly's door, where all three remained until it was
ascertained that they might enter.

The next quarter of an hour brought about a great change in the
situation of all the principal inmates of Wychecombe Hall. The interdict
was taken off the rooms of Sir Wycherly, and in them had collected all
the gentlemen, Mrs. Dutton and her daughter, with three or four of the
upper servants of the establishment. Even Galleygo contrived to thrust
his ungainly person in, among the rest, though he had the discretion to
keep in the background among his fellows. In a word, both dressing-room
and bed-room had their occupants, though the last was principally filled
by the medical men, and those whose rank gave them claims to be near the
person of the sick.

It was now past a question known that poor Sir Wycherly was on his
death-bed. His mind had sensibly improved, nor was his speech any worse;
but his physical system generally had received a shock that rendered
recovery hopeless. It was the opinion of the physicians that he might
possibly survive several days; or, that he might be carried off, in a
moment, by a return of the paralytic affection.

The baronet, himself, appeared to be perfectly conscious of his
situation; as was apparent by the anxiety he expressed to get his
friends together, and more especially the concern he felt to make a due
disposition of his worldly affairs. The medical men had long resisted
both wishes, until, convinced that the question was reduced to one of a
few hours more or less of life, and that denial was likely to produce
worse effects than compliance, they finally and unanimously consented.

"It's no a great concession to mortal infirmity to let a dying man have
his way," whispered Magrath to the two admirals, as the latter entered
the room. "Sir Wycherly is a hopeless case, and we'll just consent to
let him make a few codicils, seeing that he so fairvently desires it;
and then there may be fewer hopeless deevils left behind him, when he's
gathered to his forefathers."

"Here we are, my dear Sir Wycherly," said the vice-admiral, who never
lost an occasion to effect his purpose, by any unnecessary delay; "here
we all are anxious to comply with your wishes. Your kinsman, Sir
Reginald Wychecombe, is also present, and desirous of doing your
pleasure."

It was a painful sight to see a man on his death-bed, so anxious to
discharge the forms of the world, as the master of the Hall now appeared
to be. There had been an unnecessary alienation between the heads of the
two branches of the family; not arising from any quarrel, or positive
cause of disagreement, but from a silent conviction in both parties,
that each was unsuited to the other. They had met a few times, and
always parted without regret. The case was now different; the separation
was, in one sense at least, to be eternal; and all minor considerations,
all caprices of habits or despotism of tastes, faded before the solemn
impressions of the moment. Still, Sir Wycherly could not forget that he
was master of Wychecombe, and that his namesake was esteemed a man of
refinement; and, in his simple way of thinking he would fain have
arisen, in order to do him honour. A little gentle violence, even, was
necessary to keep the patient quiet.

"Much honoured, sir—greatly pleased," muttered Sir Wycherly, the
words coming from him with difficulty. "Same ancestors—same
name—Plantagenets—old house, sir—head go, new one come—none better,
than—"

"Do not distress yourself to speak, unnecessarily, my dear sir,"
interrupted Sir Reginald, with more tenderness for the patient than
consideration for his own interest, as the next words promised to relate
to the succession. "Sir Gervaise Oakes tells me, he understands your
wishes, generally, and that he is now prepared to gratify them. First
relieve your mind, in matters of business; and, then, I shall be most
happy to exchange with you the feelings of kindred."

"Yes, Sir Wycherly," put in Sir Gervaise, on this hint; "I believe I
have now found the clue to all you wish to say. The few words written by
you, last night, were the commencement of a will, which it is your
strong desire to make. Do not speak, but raise your right hand, if I am
not mistaken."