During the three weeks that Erik had been running everywhere in search
of information, he gained a certain amount of experience in human
nature. He saw that the curiosity of Mrs. Bowles was aroused by his
questions, he therefore entered the hotel and asked for a glass of
soda-water.
The low room in which he found himself was furnished with green tables,
and wooden chairs, but it was empty. This circumstance emboldened Erik
to enter into conversation with Mrs. Bowles, when she handed him the
bottle of soda-water which he had ordered.
"You are doubtless wondering, madam, what I can want with Patrick
O'Donoghan, and I will tell you," said he, with a smile.
"An American vessel called the 'Cynthia' was lost about seventeen years
ago on the coast of Norway; Patrick O'Donoghan was employed on board. I
was picked up by a Norwegian fisherman when I was about nine months old.
I was floating in a cradle attached to a buoy of the 'Cynthia.' I am
seeking O'Donoghan to see if he can give me any information about my
family, or at least about my country."
Mrs. Bowles uttered a cry that put a stop to Erik's explanation.
"To a buoy, do you say? You were tied to a buoy?"
But without waiting for any reply she ran to the stairway. "Bowles!
Bowles! come down quickly," she cried, in a piercing voice.
"On a buoy! you are the child who was tied to the buoy! Who ever would
have expected such a thing to happen?" she said, as she returned to
Erik, who had turned pale from surprise.
Was he going to learn the secret which he was so anxious to make out.
A heavy footstep was heard on the stairs, and soon an old man, fat and
rosy, clothed in a complete suit of blue cloth, and with gold rings in
his ears, appeared on the threshold.
"What is the matter?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.
"Here is somebody who wants you," said Mrs. Bowles; "sit down and listen
to the gentleman, who will repeat what he has told me."
Mr. Bowles obeyed without any protestation; Erik did the same. He
repeated in as few words as he could what he had told the old woman.
As he listened, the countenance of Mr. Bowles dilated like a full moon,
his lips parted in a broad smile, and he looked at his wife, and rubbed
his hands. She on her side appeared equally well pleased.
"Must I suppose that you are already acquainted with my story?" asked
Erik, with a beating heart.
Mr. Bowles made an affirmative sign, and scratching his ear, made up his
mind to speak:
"I know it without your telling me," he said, at length, "and my wife
knows it as well as I do. We have often talked about it without
understanding it."
Erik, pale and with tightly compressed lips, hung upon his words,
expecting some revelation, but this he had to wait for. Mr. Bowles had
not the gift of either eloquence or clearness, and perhaps his ideas
were still clouded with sleep, and in order to recover his faculties he
took two or three glasses of a liquor called "pick me up," which greatly
resembled gin.
After his wife had placed the bottle and two glasses before him, and he
had sufficiently fortified himself, he began to speak.
His story was so confused, and mingled with so many useless details,
that it was impossible to draw any conclusions from it, but Erik
listened attentively to all he said, and by questioning and insisting,
and aided by Mrs. Bowles, he ended by gathering some facts about
himself.
CHAPTER IX.
IN WHICH A REWARD OF FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS STERLING IS OFFERED.
Patrick O'Donoghan, as far as Erik could make out through Mr. Bowles'
rambling account of him, was not a model of virtue. The proprietor of
the Red Anchor had known him as a cabin-boy and sailor, both before and
after the loss of the "Cynthia." Up to that time Patrick O'Donoghan had
been poor, as all sailors are. After the shipwreck he had returned from
Europe with a large bundle of bank-notes, pretending to have inherited
some money in Ireland, which seemed likely enough.
Mr. Bowles, however, had never believed in this inheritance. He thought
that this sudden accession of wealth was connected in some way with the
loss of the "Cynthia," and that Patrick O'Donoghan was afraid to say so;
for it was evident that contrary to the usual habit of seamen in such
cases, he carefully avoided speaking about the sad occurrence. He would
always turn the conversation if any one alluded to it before him, and he
was very anxious to start on a long voyage before the lawsuit brought by
the company to recover the insurance due on the "Cynthia" should take
place. He did not wish to be summoned as a witness. This conduct
appeared very suspicious, as he was the sole known survivor from the
shipwreck. Mr. Bowles and his wife had always suspected him, but they
had kept their own counsel.
What looked still more suspicious was the fact that when Patrick
O'Donoghan was in New York he was never short of money. He brought back
very little with him after a voyage, but a few days after his return he
always had gold and bank-notes; and when he was tipsy, which frequently
happened, he would boast of being in possession of a secret which was
worth a fortune to him. The words which most frequently escaped from his
lips were, "the baby tied to the buoy!"
"The baby tied to the buoy," he would say, striking the table with his
fist, "The baby tied to the buoy is worth its weight in gold."
Then he would laugh, as if well satisfied with himself. But they could
never draw out of him any explanation of these words, and for many years
the Bowles household were lost in conjectures as to what they could
possibly mean.
This accounted for Mrs. Bowles' excitement, when Erik suddenly announced
to her that he was the famous baby who had been tied to a buoy.
Patrick O'Donoghan, who had been in the habit of lodging at the Red
Anchor, whenever he was in New York, for more than fifteen years, had
not been seen there now for more than four years. There had also been
something mysterious about his last departure. He had received a visit
from a man who had been closeted with him for more than an hour. After
this visit Patrick O'Donoghan, who had seemed worried and troubled, had
paid his board bill, taken his carpet bag, and left in a hurry.
They had never seen him since that day.
Mr. and Mrs. Bowles were naturally ignorant of the cause of his sudden
departure, but they had always thought that it had some connection with
the loss of the "Cynthia." In their opinion the visitor had come to warn
Patrick O'Donoghan of some danger which threatened him, and the Irishman
had thought it prudent to leave New York immediately. Mrs. Bowles did
not think he had ever returned. If he had done so, they would have been
sure to hear of him through other seamen who frequented their house, and
who would have been astonished if Patrick O'Donoghan had boarded
anywhere else, and would have been sure to ask questions as to the
reasons for his doing so.
This was the substance of the story related to Erik, and he hastened to
communicate it to his friends.
His report was naturally received with all the interest which it
merited. For the first time, after so many years, they were on the track
of a man who had made reiterated allusions to the baby tied to a buoy.
It was true they did not know where this man was, but they hoped to find
him some day. It was the most important piece of news which they had as
yet obtained. They resolved to telegraph to Mrs. Bowles, and beg her to
prepare a dinner for six persons. Mr. Bredejord had suggested this idea,
as a good means of drawing the worthy couple out; for while they talked
during the dinner, they might be able to glean some new facts.
Erik had little hopes of obtaining any further information. He thought
that he already knew Mr. and Mrs. Bowles well enough to be convinced
that they had told him all that they knew. But he did not take into
account Mr. Bredejord's skill in questioning witnesses, and in drawing
from them information which they themselves were scarcely aware of.
Mrs. Bowles had surpassed herself in preparing the dinner. She had laid
the table in the best room on the first floor. She felt very much
flattered at being invited to partake of it, in the society of such
distinguished guests, and answered willingly all of Mr. Bredejord's
questions.
They gathered from this conversation a certain number of facts which
were not unimportant.
One was that Patrick O'Donoghan had said at the time, of the lawsuit
against the insurance company, that he was going away to avoid being
summoned as a witness. This was evident proof that he did not wish to
explain the circumstances under which the shipwreck had occurred, and
his subsequent conduct confirmed this theory. It was also evident that
in New York or its environs he received the suspicious revenue which
seemed to be connected with his secret. For when he arrived he was
always without money, but after he had been about for a short time he
always returned with his pockets full of gold. They could not doubt that
his secret was connected with the infant tied to the buoy, for he had
frequently affirmed that such was the case.
The evening before his sudden departure Patrick O'Donoghan had said that
he was tired of a sea-faring life, and that he thought he should give up
making voyages, and settle in New York for the remainder of his life.
Lastly, the individual who had called to see Patrick O'Donoghan was
interested in his departure, for he had called the next day and asked
for the Irishman who was boarding at the Red Anchor, and had seemed
pleased to hear that he was no longer there. Mr. Bowles felt sure that
he would recognize this man if he saw him again. By his conversation and
actions he had believed him to be a detective, or some agent of the
police.
Mr. Bredejord concluded from these facts that Patrick O'Donoghan had
been systematically frightened by the person from whom he drew the
money, and that this man had been sent to make him fear that criminal
proceedings were about to be taken against him. This would explain his
precipitate flight, and why he had never returned to New York.
It was important to find this detective, as well as Patrick O'Donoghan.
Mr. and Mrs. Bowles, by referring to their books, were able to give the
exact date of the Irishman's departure, which was four years, lacking
three months; although they had previously believed that it was four or
five years ago.
Dr. Schwaryencrona was immediately struck by the fact that the date of
his departure, and consequently of the visit of the detective,
corresponded precisely with the date of the first advertisements which
he had caused to be made in Great Britain for the survivors of the
"Cynthia." This coincidence was so striking that it was impossible not
to believe that there was some connection between them.
They began to understand the mystery a little better. The abandonment of
Erik on the buoy had been the result of some crime--a crime of which the
cabin-boy O'Donoghan had been a witness or an accomplice. He knew the
authors of this crime, who lived in New York or its environs, and he had
for a long time enjoyed the reward of his secrecy. Then a day had come
when the excessive demands of the Irishman had become burdensome, and
the announcement in the newspapers by advertisement had been made use of
to frighten Patrick, and cause his hurried departure.
In any case, even if these deductions were not correct in every point,
they had obtained sufficient information to entitle them to demand a
judicial investigation.
Erik and his friends therefore left the Red Anchor full of hope that
they would soon obtain some favorable intelligence.
The next day Mr. Bredejord was introduced by the Swedish consul to the
chief of police of New York, and he made him acquainted with the facts
which had become known to him. At the same time he entered into
conversation with the officers of the insurance company who had refused
to pay the claims due on the "Cynthia," and read the old documents
relative to this matter, which had lain undisturbed so many years. But
the examination of these papers did not afford him any important
intelligence. The matter had been decided upon technical points,
relating to an excess of insurance far above the value of the vessel and
cargo. Neither side had been able to produce any person who had been a
witness of the shipwreck. The owners of the "Cynthia" had not been able
to prove their good faith, or to explain how the shipwreck had taken
place, and the Court had decided in favor of their adversaries. Their
defense had been weak, and their opponents had triumphed.
The insurance company, however, had been compelled to pay several claims
on the lives of the passengers to their heirs. But, in all these law
proceedings, there was no trace of any infant nine months old.
These examinations had occupied several days. Finally, the chief of
police informed Mr. Bredejord that he had been unable to obtain any
intelligence about the matter. Nobody in New York knew any detective who
answered to Mr. Bowles' description. Nobody could tell who the
individual was who was interested in the departure of Patrick
O'Donoghan. As for this sailor, he did not appear to have set his foot
in the United States for at least four years. All they could do was to
keep the address of the place where he was born, which might prove
useful some time. But the chief of police told Mr. Bredejord, without
any dissimulation, that the affair had happened so long ago--now nearly
twenty years--that even if Patrick O'Donoghan ever returned to New York,
it was at least doubtful if the authorities would be willing to
investigate the matter.
At the moment when Erik believed that he was about to obtain a solution
of the mystery which clouded his life, all their investigations came to
a sudden end, and without producing the slightest result. The only thing
that remained to be done was to pass through Ireland as they returned to
Sweden, to see if perchance Patrick O'Donoghan had returned there to
pass the remainder of his days planting cabbages.
Dr. Schwaryencrona and his friends, after taking leave of Mr. and Mrs.
Bowles, resolved to pursue this route. The steamers between New York and
Liverpool touch at Cork, and this was only a few miles from Innishannon,
the place where Patrick was born. There they learned that Patrick
O'Donoghan had never returned to his native place since he left it at
the age of twelve years, and that they had never heard from him.
"Where shall we look for him now?" asked Dr. Schwaryencrona, as they
embarked for England, on the way to Stockholm.
"At the seaport towns evidently, and clearly at those which are not
American," answered Mr. Bredejord. "For note this point, a sailor, a
sea-faring man, does not renounce his profession at the age of
thirty-five. It is the only one he knows. Patrick is doubtless still on
the sea. And all vessels have some port or other for their destination,
and it is only there that we can hope to find this man. What do you
think, Hochstedt?"
"Your reasoning seems to be just, although not altogether indisputable,"
answered the professor, with his customary prudence.
"Admit that it is right," continued Mr. Bredejord. "We know that Patrick
O'Donoghan was frightened away and would be in dread of pursuit, perhaps
of being extradited. In that case, he would avoid his old companions,
and seek in preference ports where he was not likely to meet any of
them. I know that my ideas can be contradicted, but let us suppose they
are well founded. The number of ports which are not frequented by
American vessels is not very large. I think we might begin by seeking in
these places news of Patrick O'Donoghan."
"Why not have recourse to advertisements?" asked Dr. Schwaryencrona.
"Because Patrick O'Donoghan would not answer them if he is trying to
hide himself; even supposing that a sailor would be likely to see your
advertisement."
"But you could word your advertisement so as to assure him that you
intended to do him no injury, but rather that it would be greatly to his
advantage to communicate with you."
"You are right, but still I am afraid that an ordinary seaman would not
be likely to see such an advertisement."
"Well, you might try offering a reward to Patrick O'Donoghan, or to any
one who would give you information as to where he might be found. What
do you think about it, Erik?"
"It seems to me that such an advertisement to produce any result would
have to be continued for a long time, and in a great many different
papers. That would cost a great deal, and might only frighten Patrick
O'Donoghan, no matter how well worded the advertisement might be,
provided it is to his interest to remain concealed. Would it not be
better to employ some one to visit personally those seaports which this
man would be likely to frequent?"
"But where could we find a trusty man who would be willing to undertake
such a task?"
"I can furnish one, if you wish it," answered Erik. "I would go myself."
"You, my dear child--and what would become of your studies?"
"My studies need not suffer. There is nothing to prevent me from
pursuing them, even during my travels. And another thing, doctor, I must
confess to you, that I have already secured the means of doing so
without costing me anything."
"How is that possible," asked Dr. Schwaryencrona, Mr. Bredejord, and
Professor Hochstedt, simultaneously.
"I have simply been preparing myself for a sea-faring life. I can pass
the examination to-day if necessary. Once in possession of my diploma,
it would be easy for me to obtain a position as a lieutenant in any
sea-port.
"And you have done all this without saying a word to me?" said the
doctor, half grieved, while the lawyer and the professor both laughed
heartily.
"Well," said Erik, "I do not think that I have committed any great
crime. I have only made inquiries as to the requisite amount of
knowledge, and I have mastered it. I should not have made any use of it
without asking your permission, and I now solicit it."
"And I shall grant it, wicked boy," said the doctor, "But to let you set
out all alone now is another matter--we will wait until you have
attained your majority."
Erik submitted to this decision willingly and gratefully.
However, the doctor was not willing to give up his own ideas. To search
the sea-ports personally he regarded as a last expedient. An
advertisement on the other hand would go everywhere. If Patrick
O'Donoghan was not hiding away, they might possibly find him by this
means. If he was hiding, some one might see it and betray him. He
therefore had this advertisement written in seven or eight different
languages, and dispatched to the four quarters of the globe in a hundred
of the most widely circulated newspapers.
"Patrick O'Donoghan, a sailor, has been absent from New York for
four years. A reward of one hundred pounds sterling will be paid to
any one who can give me news of him. Five hundred pounds sterling
will be given to the said Patrick O'Donoghan if he will communicate
with the advertiser. He need fear nothing, as no advantage will be
taken of him.
"DOCTOR SCHWARYENCRONA.
"Stockholm."
By the 20th of October, the doctor and his companions had returned to
their homes.
The next day the advertisement was sent to the advertising agency in
Stockholm, and three days afterward it had made its appearance in
several newspapers. Erik could not repress a sigh and a presentiment
that it would be unsuccessful as he read it.
As for Mr. Bredejord, he declared openly that it was the greatest folly
in the world, and that for the future he considered the affair a
failure.
But Erik and Mr. Bredejord were deceived, as events afterward proved.
CHAPTER X.
TUDOR BROWN, ESQUIRE.
One morning in May the doctor was in his office, when his servant
brought him a visitor's card. This card, which was small as is usual in
America, had the name of "Mr. Tudor Brown, on board the 'Albatross'"
printed upon it.
"Mr. Tudor Brown," said the doctor, trying to remember whom he had ever
known who bore this name.
"This gentleman asked to see the doctor," said the servant.
"Can he not come at my office-hour?" asked the doctor.
"He said his business was about a personal matter."
"Show him in, then," said the doctor, with a sigh.
He lifted his head as the door opened again, and was surprised when he
beheld the singular person who answered to the feudal name of Tudor, and
the plebeian name of Brown.
He was a man about fifty years of age, his forehead was covered with a
profusion of little ringlets, of a carroty color, while the most
superficial examination betrayed that they were made of curled silk; his
nose was hooked, and surmounted with an enormous pair of gold
spectacles; his teeth were as long as those of a horse, his cheeks were
smooth, but under his chin he wore a little red beard. This odd head,
covered by a high hat which he did not pretend to remove, surmounted a
thin angular body, clothed from head to foot in a woolen suit. In his
cravat he wore a pin, containing a diamond as large as a walnut; also a
large gold chain, and his vest buttons were amethysts. He had a dozen
rings on his fingers, which were as knotty as those of a chimpanzee.
Altogether he was the most pretentious and grotesque-looking man that it
was possible to behold. This person entered the doctor's office as if he
had been entering a railway station, without even bowing. He stopped to
say, in a voice that resembled that of Punch, its tone was so nasal and
guttural:
"Are you Doctor Schwaryencrona?"
"I am," answered the doctor, very much astonished at his manners.
He was debating in his mind whether he should ring for his servant to
conduct this offensive person to the door, when a word put a stop to his
intention.
"I saw your advertisement about Patrick O'Donoghan," said the stranger,
"and I thought you would like to know that I can tell you something
about him."
"Take a seat, sir," answered the doctor.
But he perceived that the stranger had not waited to be asked.
After selecting the most comfortable arm-chair, he drew it toward the
doctor, then he seated himself with his hands in his pockets, lifted his
feet and placed his heels on the window-sill, and looked at the doctor
with the most self-satisfied air in the world.
"I thought," he said, "that you would listen to these details with
pleasure, since you offer five hundred pounds for them. That is why I
have called upon you."
The doctor bowed without saying a word.
"Doubtless," continued the other, in his nasal voice, "you are wondering
who I am. I am going to tell you. My card has informed you as to my
name, and I am a British subject."
"Irish perhaps?" asked the doctor with interest.
The Granger, evidently surprised, hesitated a moment, and then said:
"No, Scotch. Oh, I know I do not look like a Scotchman, they take me
very often for a Yankee--but that is nothing--I am Scotch."
As he gave this piece of information, he looked at Dr. Schwaryencrona as
much as to say:
"You can believe what you please, it is a matter of indifference to me."
"From Inverness, perhaps?" suggested the doctor, still clinging to his
favorite theory.
The stranger again hesitated for a moment.
"No, from Edinburgh," he answered. "But that is of no importance after
all, and has nothing to do with the matter in hand. I have an
independent fortune and owe nothing to anybody. If I tell you who I am,
it is because it gives me pleasure to do so, for I am not obliged to do
it."
"Permit me to observe that I did not ask you," said the doctor, smiling.
"No, but do not interrupt me, or we shall never reach the end of this
matter. You published an advertisement to find out what became of
Patrick O'Donoghan, did you not?--you therefore have some interest in
knowing. I know what has become of him."
"You know?" asked the doctor, drawing his seat closer to that of the
stranger.
"I know, but before I tell you, I want to ask you what interest you have
in finding him?"
"That is only just," answered the doctor.
In as few words as possible, he related Erik's history, to which his
visitor listened with profound attention.
"And this boy is still living?" asked Tudor Brown.
"Assuredly he is living. He is in good health, and in October next he
will begin his studies in the Medical University at Upsal."
"Ah! ah!" answered the stranger, who seemed lost in reflection. "Tell
me," he said at length, "have you no other means of solving this mystery
of his birth except by finding Patrick O'Donoghan?"
"I know of no other," replied the doctor. "After years of searching I
only found out that this O'Donoghan was in possession of the secret,
that he alone could reveal it to me, and that is why I have advertised
for him in the papers. I must confess that I had no great hopes of
finding him by this means."
"How is that?"
"Because I had reasons for believing that this O'Donoghan has grave
motives for remaining unknown, consequently it was not likely that he
would respond to my advertisement. I had the intention of resorting to
other means. I have a description of him. I know what ports he would be
likely to frequent, and I propose to employ special agents to be on the
lookout for him."
Dr. Schwaryencrona did not say this lightly. He spoke with the intention
of seeing what effect these words would produce on the man before him.
And as he watched him intently, he saw that in spite of the affected
coolness of the stranger his eyelids fell and the muscles of his month
contracted. But almost immediately Tudor Brown recovered his
self-possession, and said:
"Well, doctor, if you have no other means of solving this mystery,
except by discovering Patrick O'Donoghan, I am afraid that you will
never find it out. Patrick O'Donoghan is dead."
The doctor was too much taken aback by this disappointing announcement
to say a word, and only looked at his visitor, who continued:
"Dead and buried, three hundred fathoms beneath the sea. This man, whose
past life always appeared to me to have been mysterious, was employed
three years on board my yacht, the 'Albatross.' I must tell you that my
yacht is a stanch vessel, in which I often cruise for seven or eight
months at a time. Nearly three years ago we were passing through the
Straits of Madeira, when Patrick O'Donoghan fell overboard. I had the
vessel stopped, and some boats lowered, and after a diligent search we
recovered him; but though we spared no pains to restore him to life, our
efforts were in vain. Patrick O'Donoghan was dead. We were compelled to
return to the sea the prey which we had snatched from it. The accident
was put down on the ship's log, and recorded in the notary's office at
the nearest place we reached. Thinking that this act might be useful to
you, I have brought you a certified copy of it."
As he said this, Mr. Tudor Brown took out his pocket-book and presented
the doctor with a paper stamped with a notarial seal.
The latter read it quickly. It was a record of the death of Patrick
O'Donoghan, while passing through the Straits of Madeira, duly signed
and sworn to, before two witnesses, as being an exact copy of the
original--it was also registered in London, at Somerset House, by the
commissioners of her Britannic Majesty.
This instrument was evidently authentic. But the manner in which he had
received it was so strange that the doctor could not conceal his
astonishment. He took it, however, with his habitual courtesy.
"Permit me to ask one question, sir," he said to his visitor.
"Speak, doctor."
"How is it that you have this document in your pocket duly prepared and
certified? And why have you brought it to me?"
"If I can count, you have asked two questions," said Tudor Brown. "I will
answer them, however--I had this paper in my pocket, because I read your
advertisement two months ago, and wishing to furnish you with the
information which you asked for, I thought it better to give it to you,
in the most complete and definite form that lay in my power. I have
brought it to you personally, because I happened to be cruising in these
waters; and I wished at the same time to gratify your curiosity and my
own."
There was nothing to answer to this reasoning--this was the only
conclusion the doctor could draw.
"Yon are here, then, with the 'Albatross'?" he asked, eagerly.
"Without doubt."
"And you have still on board some sailors who have known Patrick
O'Donoghan?"
"Yes, several."
"Would you permit me to see them?"
"As many as you please. Will you accompany me on board now?"
"If you have no objection."
"I have none," said the stranger, as he arose.
Dr. Schwaryencrona touched his bell, and they brought him his fur
pelisse, his hat, and his cane, and he departed with Mr. Tudor Brown.
Fifteen minutes later they were on board the "Albatross."
They were received by an old gray-headed seaman, with a rubicund face,
whose open countenance betrayed only truth and loyalty.
"Mr. Ward, this gentleman wishes to make some inquiries about the fate
of Patrick O'Donoghan," said Mr. Tudor Brown.
"Patrick O'Donoghan," answered the old sailor, "God rest his soul. He
gave us trouble enough to pick him up the day he was drowned in the
Straits of Madeira. What is the use of inquiries now that he has gone to
feed the fishes?"
"Had you known him for a long time?" asked the doctor.
"The rascal--no--for a year or two perhaps. I believe that it was at
Zanzibar that we took him on board--am I right, Tommy Duff?"
"Is any one hailing me?" asked a young sailor, who was busily employed
in polishing a copper bowl.
"Come here," said the other--"Was it at Zanzibar that we recruited
Patrick O'Donoghan?"
"Patrick O'Donoghan," repeated the young sailor, as if his remembrance
of the man was not very good. "Oh yes, I remember him. The man who fell
overboard in the Straits of Maderia. Yes, Mr. Ward, it was at Zanzibar
that he came on board."
Dr. Schwaryencrona made him describe Patrick O'Donoghan, and was
convinced that it was the same man whom he was seeking. Both these men
seemed honest and sincere. They had honest and open countenances. The
uniformity of their answers seemed a little strange, and almost
preconcerted; but after all it might be only the natural consequence of
relating facts. Having known Patrick O'Donoghan only a year at the most,
they would have but little to say about him, except the fact of his
death.
Besides the "Albatross" was a yacht of such large proportions, that if
she had been furnished with some cannon she might easily have passed for
a man-of-war. The most rigorous cleanliness was observed on board. The
sailors were in good condition, well clothed, and under perfect
discipline. The general appearance of the vessel insensiby acted upon
the doctor, and carried conviction of the truth of the statement which
he had just heard. He therefore declared himself perfectly satisfied,
and could not leave without inviting Mr. Tudor Brown to dine with him.
But Mr. Tudor Brown did not think it best to accept this invitation. He
declined it in these courteous terms:
"No--I can not--I never dine in town."
It now only remained for Dr. Schwaryencrona to retire. This he did
without having obtained even the slightest bow from this strange
individual.
The doctor's first thought was to go and relate his adventure to Mr.
Bredejord, who listened to him without saying a word, only promising
himself to institute counter inquiries.
But he, with Erik, who had been told the whole story upon his return
from school, repaired to the vessel to see if they could elicit any
further information, but the "Albatross" had left Stockholm, without
leaving word where she was going, and they could not, therefore, obtain
even the address of Mr. Tudor Brown.
All that resulted from this affair was the possession of the document,
which legally proved the death of Patrick O'Donoghan.
Was this paper of any value? This was the question that Mr. Bredejord
could not help doubting, in spite of the evidence of the British consul
at Stockholm, whom he questioned, and who declared that the signatures
and stamp were perfectly authentic. He also caused inquiries to be made
at Edinburgh, but nobody knew Mr. Tudor Brown, which he thought looked
suspicious.
But it was an undeniable fact that they obtained no further intelligence
of Patrick O'Donoghan, and all their advertisements were ineffectual.
If Patrick O'Donoghan had disappeared for good, they had no hope of
penetrating the mystery that surrounded Erik's birth. He himself saw
this, and was obliged to recognize the fact that, for the future, the
inquiries would have to be based upon some other theory. He therefore
made no opposition about commencing his medical studies the following
autumn at the university at Upsal, according to the doctor's wishes. He
only desired, first, to pass his examination as a captain, but this
sufficed to show that he had not renounced his project of traveling.
Besides, he had another trouble which lay heavy at his heart, and for
which he saw no other remedy but absence.
Erik wished to find some pretext for leaving the doctor's house as soon
as his studies were completed; but he wished to do this without exciting
any suspicion. The only pretext which he could think of was this plan of
traveling. He desired to do this because of the aversion of Kajsa, the
doctor's niece. She lost no occasion of showing her dislike; but he
would not at any price have had the excellent man suspect this state of
affairs between them. His relations toward the young girl had always
been most singular. In the eyes of Erik during these seven years as well
as on the first day of his arrival at Stockholm, the pretty little fairy
had always been a model of elegance and all earthly perfections. He had
bestowed on her his unreserved admiration, and had made heroic efforts
to overcome her dislike, and become her friend.
But Kajsa could not make up her mind calmly to see this "intruder," as
she called Erik, take his place in the doctor's home, be treated as an
adopted son, and become a favorite of her uncle and his friends. The
scholastic success of Erik, his goodness and his gentleness, far from
making him pleasing in her eyes, were only new motives of jealousy.
In her heart Kajsa could not pardon the young man for being only a
fisherman and a peasant. It seemed to her that he brought discredit upon
the doctor's household and on herself, who, she liked to believe,
occupied a very high position in the social scale.
But it was worse when she learned that Erik was even less than a
peasant, only a child that had been picked up. That appeared to her
monstrous and dishonorable. She thought that such a child had a lower
place in society than a cat or a dog; she manifested these sentiments by
the most disdainful looks, the most mortifying silence, and the most
cruel insults. If Erik was invited with her to any little social
gathering at the house of a friend, she would positively refuse to dance
with him. At the table she would not answer anything he said, nor pay
any attention to him. She tried on all occasions, and in every possible
way, to humiliate him.
Poor Erik had divined the cause of this uncharitable conduct, but he
could not understand how ignorance of his family, and of the land of his
birth, could be regarded by her as such a heinous crime. He tried one
day to reason with Kajsa, and to make her understand the injustice and
cruelty of such a prejudice, but she would not even deign to listen to
him. Then as they both grew older, the abyss which separated them seemed
to widen. At eighteen Kajsa made her -début- in society. She was
flattered and noticed as the rich heiress, and this homage only
confirmed her in the opinion that she was superior to common mortals.
Erik, who was at first greatly afflicted by her disdain, ended by
becoming indignant, and vowing to triumph over it. This feeling of
humiliation had a great share in producing the passionate ardor with
which he pursued his studies. He dreamed of raising himself so high in
public esteem, by the force of his own industry, that every one would
bow before him. But he also vowed that he would go away on the first
opportunity, and that he would not remain under a roof where every day
he was exposed to some secret humiliation.
Only the good doctor must be kept in ignorance of the cause of his
departure. He must attribute it solely to a passion for traveling. And
Erik therefore frequently spoke of his desire, when his studies were
completed, of engaging in some scientific expedition. While pursuing his
studies at Upsal, he prepared himself by work, and the most severe
exercise, for the life of fatigue and danger which is the lot of great
travelers.
CHAPTER XI.
THE "VEGA."
In the month of December, 1878, Erik had attained the age of twenty, and
passed his first examination for his doctor's degree. The learned men of
Sweden were greatly excited about the proposed arctic expedition of the
navigator Nordenskiold, and their enthusiasm was shared by a large
proportion of the population. After preparing himself for the
undertaking by several voyages to the polar regions, and after studying
the problem in all its aspects, Nordenskiold intended to attempt once
more to discover the north-east passage from the Atlantic to the
Pacific, which for three centuries had defied the efforts of all the
maritime nations.
The programme for the expedition had been defined by the Swedish
navigator, and he announced the reasons which led him to believe that
the north-east passage was practicable in summer, and the means by which
he hoped to realize this geographical desideratum. The intelligent
liberality of two Scandinavian gentlemen, and the assistance of the
Swedish government, enabled him to organize his expedition upon a plan
which he believed would insure its success.
It was on the 21st of July, 1878, that Nordenskiold quitted From-sae, on
board of the "Vega," to attempt to reach Behring's Strait by passing to
the north of Russia and Siberia. Lieutenant Palanders, of the Swedish
navy, was in command of the vessel, with the instigator of the voyage,
and they had also a staff of botanists, geologists, and astronomical
doctors.
The "Vega," which had been especially prepared for the expedition under
the surveillance of Nordenskiold, was a vessel of five hundred tons,
which had been recently built at Bremen, and carried an engine of
sixty-horse power. Three ships were to accompany her to successive
points on the Siberian coast, which had been previously determined upon.
They were all provisioned for a cruise of two years, in case it might be
necessary for them to winter in those arctic regions. But Nordenskiold
did not conceal his hope of being able to reach Behring's Strait before
autumn, on account of his careful arrangements, and all Sweden shared
this hope.
They started from the most northerly point of Norway, and the "Vega"
reached Nova Zembla on the 29th of July, on the 1st of August the Sea of
Kara, and on the 6th of August the mouth of the Gulf Yenisei. On the 9th
of August she doubled Cape Schelynshin, or Cape North-East, the extreme
point of the continent, which no vessel had hitherto been able to reach.
On the 7th of September she cast anchor at the mouth of the Lena, and
separated from the third of the vessels which had accompanied her thus
far. On the 16th of October a telegraphic dispatch from Irkutsk
announced to the world that the expedition had been successful up to
this point.
We can imagine the impatience with which the friends of the Swedish
navigator waited for the details of the expedition. These details did
not reach them until the 1st of December. For if electricity flies over
space with the rapidity of thought, it is not the same with the Siberian
post. The letters from the "Vega," although deposited in the post-office
at Irkutsk, at the same time that the telegraphic message was
dispatched, did not reach Sweden until six weeks afterward. But they
arrived at last; and on the 5th of December one of the principal
newspapers of Sweden published an account of the first part of the
expedition, which had been written by a young medical doctor attached to
the "Vega."
That same day, at breakfast, Mr. Bredejord was occupied in reading with
great interest the details of the voyage, given in four columns, when
his eyes fell upon a paragraph which almost upset him. He re-read it
attentively, and then read it again; then he arose, and seizing his hat
and coat, he rushed to the house of Dr. Schwaryencrona.
"Have you read the correspondence of the 'Vega'?" he cried, as he rushed
like a hurricane into the dining-room where the doctor and Kajsa were
taking their breakfast.
"I have just commenced it," replied the doctor, "and was intending to
finish reading it after breakfast, while I smoked my pipe."
"Then you have not seen!" exclaimed Mr. Bredejord, out of breath. "You
do not know what this correspondence contains?"
"No," replied Doctor Schwaryencrona, with perfect calmness.
"Well, listen to this," continued Mr. Bredejord, approaching the window.
"It is the journal of one of your brethren, the aid of the naturalist of
the 'Vega.'"
"'30th and 31st of July, we entered the strait of Jugor, and cast anchor
before a Samoyede village called Chabarova. We landed, and I questioned
some of the natives to discover, by Holmgren's method, the extent of
their perception of colors. I found that this sense was normally
developed among them. Bought of a Samoyede fisherman two magnificent
salmon.'"
"Pardon me," interrupted the doctor; "but is this a charade you are
reading to me. I confess I do not see how these details can interest
me."
"Ah! they do not interest you?" said Mr. Bredejord, in a triumphant
tone. "Well, wait a moment and you will see:
"'Bought of a Samoyede fisherman two magnificent salmon, which I have
preserved in alcohol, notwithstanding the protestations of our cook.
This fisherman fell into the water as he was quitting the ship. They
pulled him out half suffocated and stiffened by the cold, so that he
resembled a bar of iron, and he, also, had a serious cut on his head. We
were just under way, and they carried him to the infirmary of the
"Vega," while still unconscious, undressed him, and put him to bed. They
then discovered that this fisherman was an European. He had red hair;
his nose had been broken by some accident, and on his chest, on a level
with his heart, these words were tattooed: "Patrick
O'Donoghan--Cynthia."'"
Here Dr. Schwaryencrona uttered a cry of surprise.
"Wait! listen to the rest of it," said Mr. Bredejord; and he continued
his reading:
"'Being subjected to an energetic massage treatment, he was soon
restored to life. But as it was impossible for him to leave us in that
condition, we were compelled to take care of him. A fever set in and he
became delirious. Our experiment of the appreciation of colors among the
Samoyedes, therefore, was frustrated.--3d of August. The fisherman of
Chabarova has recovered from the effects of his bath. He appeared to be
surprised to find himself on board the "Vega," and -en route- for Cape
Tahelyuskin, but soon became reconciled to his fate. His knowledge of
the Ganwyede language may be useful to, us, and we have determined to
take him with us on the coast of Siberia. He speaks English with a nasal
accent like a Yankee, but pretends to be Scotch, and calls himself Tommy
Bowles. He came from Nova Zembla with some fishermen, and he has lived
on these shores for the last twelve years. The name tattooed upon his
chest he says, 'is that of one of the friends of his infancy who has
been dead for a long time.'"
"It is evidently our man," cried the doctor, with great emotion.
"Yes, there can be no doubt of it," answered the lawyer. "The name, the
vessel, the description, all prove it; even this choice of a pseudonym
Johnny Bowles, and his declaring that Patrick O'Donoghan was dead, these
are superabundant proofs!"
They were both silent, reflecting upon the possible consequences of this
discovery.
"How can we go so far in search of him?" said the doctor, at length.
"It will be very difficult, evidently," replied Mr. Bredejord. "But it
is something to know that he is alive, and the part of the world where
he can be found. And, besides, who can tell what the future may have in
store? He may even return to Stockholm in the 'Vega,' and explain all
that we wish to find out. If he does not do this, perhaps we may, sooner
or later, find an opportunity to communicate with him. Voyages to Nova
Zembla will become more frequent, on account of this expedition of the
'Vega.' Ship-owners are already talking about sending every year some
vessels to the mouth of the Yenisei."
The discussion of this topic was inexhaustible, and the two friends were
still talking about the matter, when Erik arrived from Upsal, at two
o'clock. He also had read this great piece of news, and had taken the
train for home without losing a moment. But it was a singular fact that
he was not joyful, but rather disturbed by this new intelligence.
"Do you know what I am afraid of?" said he to the doctor and Mr.
Bredejord. "I fear that some misfortune has happened to the 'Vega.' You
know it is now the 5th of December, and you know the leaders of the
expedition counted upon arriving at Behring's Strait before October. If
this expectation had been realized, we should have heard from her by
this time; for she would have reached Japan, or at least Petropaulosk,
in the Aleutian Islands, or some station in the Pacific, from which we
should have received news of her. The dispatches and letters here came
by the way of Irkutsk, and are dated the 7th of September, so that for
three entire months we have heard nothing from the 'Vega.' So we must
conclude that they did not reach Behring's Strait as soon as they
expected, and that she has succumbed to the common fate of all
expeditious which for the last three centuries have attempted to
discover the north-east passage. This is the deplorable conclusion which
I have been compelled to arrive at."
"The 'Vega' might have been obliged to encounter in the Polar regions a
great deal which was unforeseen, and she might have been unprovided for
such a contingency," replied Dr. Schwaryencrona.
"Evidently; but this is the most favorable hypothesis; and a winter in
that region is surrounded by so many dangers that it is equivalent to a
shipwreck. In any case, it is an indisputable fact that if we ever have
any news of the 'Vega' it will not be possible to do so before next
summer."
"Why, how is that?"
"Because, if the 'Vega' has not perished she is inclosed in the ice, and
she will not be able, at the best, to extricate herself before June or
July."
"That is true," answered Mr. Bredejord.
"What conclusion do you draw from this reasoning?" asked the doctor,
disturbed by the sad tone of Erik's voice as he made the announcement.
"The conclusion that it is impossible to wait so long before solving a
question which is of such great importance to me."
"What do you want to do? We must submit to what is inevitable."
"Perhaps it only appears to be so," answered Erik. "The letters which
have reached us have come across the Arctic Ocean by the way of Irkutsk.
Why could I not follow the same route? I would keep close to the coast
of Siberia. I would endeavor to communicate with the people of that
country, and find out whether any foreign vessel had been shipwrecked,
or was held prisoner among the icebergs. Perhaps I might succeed in
finding Nordenskiold, and Patrick O'Donoghan. It is an enterprise worth
undertaking."
"In the middle of winter?"
"Why not? It is the most favorable season for traveling in sleighs in
that latitude."
"Yes; but you forget that you are not there yet, and that it will be
spring before you could get there."
"That is true," said Erik, who was compelled to recognize the force of
this argument. He sat with his eyes fixed on the floor, absorbed in
thought.
"No, matter," said he suddenly; "Nordenskiold must be found, and with
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