Complete Works of Bram Stoker (371 page)

I had hardly finished writing when the lookout on the tower announced that the
Teuta
, as Rupert calls his aeroplane, was sighted crossing the mountains from Plazac.  I hurried up to see him arrive, for I had not as yet seen him on his “aero.”  Mr. Ernest Melton came up, too.  Teuta was, of course, before any of us.  She seems to know by instinct when Rupert is coming.

It was certainly a wonderful sight to see the little aeroplane, with outspread wings like a bird in flight, come sailing high over the mountains.  There was a head-wind, and they were beating against it; otherwise we should not have had time to get to the tower before the arrival.

When once the “aero” had begun to drop on the near side of the mountains, however, and had got a measure of shelter from them, her pace was extraordinary.  We could not tell, of course, what sort of pace she came at from looking at herself.  But we gathered some idea from the rate at which the mountains and hills seemed to slide away from under her.  When she got over the foot-hills, which are about ten miles away, she came on at a swift glide that seemed to throw the distance behind her.  When quite close, she rose up a little till she was something higher than the Tower, to which she came as straight as an arrow from the bow, and glided to her moorings, stopping dead as Rupert pulled a lever, which seemed to turn a barrier to the wind.  The Voivode sat beside Rupert, but I must say that he seemed to hold on to the bar in front of him even more firmly than Rupert held to his steering-gear.

When they had alighted, Rupert greeted his cousin with the utmost kindness, and bade him welcome to Vissarion.

“I see,” he said, “you have met Teuta.  Now you may congratulate me, if you wish.”

Mr. Melton made a long rodomontade about her beauty, but presently, stumbling about in his speech, said something regarding it being unlucky to appear in grave-clothes.  Rupert laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder as he answered:

“That pattern of frock is likely to become a national dress for loyal women of the Blue Mountains.  When you know something of what that dress means to us all at present you will understand.  In the meantime, take it that there is not a soul in the nation that does not love it and honour her for wearing it.”  To which the cad replied:

“Oh, indeed!  I thought it was some preparation for a fancy-dress ball.”  Rupert’s comment on this ill-natured speech was (for him) quite grumpily given:

“I should not advise you to think such things whilst you are in this part of the world, Ernest.  They bury men here for much less.”

The cad seemed struck with something  —  either what Rupert had said or his manner of saying it  —  for he was silent for several seconds before he spoke.

“I’m very tired with that long journey, Rupert.  Would you and Mrs. Sent Leger mind if I go to my own room and turn in?  My man can ask for a cup of tea and a sandwich for me.”

RUPERT’S JOURNAL.

August
10, 1907.

When Ernest said he wished to retire it was about the wisest thing he could have said or done, and it suited Teuta and me down to the ground.  I could see that the dear girl was agitated about something, so thought it would be best for her to be quiet, and not worried with being civil to the Bounder.  Though he is my cousin, I can’t think of him as anything else.  The Voivode and I had certain matters to attend to arising out of the meeting of the Council, and when we were through the night was closing in.  When I saw Teuta in our own rooms she said at once:

“Do you mind, dear, if I stay with Aunt Janet to-night?  She is very upset and nervous, and when I offered to come to her she clung to me and cried with relief.”

So when I had had some supper, which I took with the Voivode, I came down to my old quarters in the Garden Room, and turned in early.

I was awakened a little before dawn by the coming of the fighting monk Theophrastos, a notable runner, who had an urgent message for me.  This was the letter to me given to him by Rooke.  He had been cautioned to give it into no other hand, but to find me wherever I might be, and convey it personally.  When he had arrived at Plazac I had left on the aeroplane, so he had turned back to Vissarion.

When I read Rooke’s report of Ernest Melton’s abominable conduct I was more angry with him than I can say.  Indeed, I did not think before that that I could be angry with him, for I have always despised him.  But this was too much.  However, I realised the wisdom of Rooke’s advice, and went away by myself to get over my anger and reacquire my self-mastery.  The aeroplane
Teuta
was still housed on the tower, so I went up alone and took it out.

When I had had a spin of about a hundred miles I felt better.  The bracing of the wind and the quick, exhilarating motion restored me to myself, and I felt able to cope with Master Ernest, or whatever else chagrinable might come along, without giving myself away.  As Teuta had thought it better to keep silence as to Ernest’s affront, I felt I must not acknowledge it; but, all the same, I determined to get rid of him before the day was much older.

When I had had my breakfast I sent word to him by a servant that I was coming to his rooms, and followed not long behind the messenger.

He was in a suit of silk pyjamas, such as not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed in.  I closed the door behind me before I began to speak.  He listened, at first amazed, then disconcerted, then angry, and then cowering down like a whipped hound.  I felt that it was a case for speaking out.  A bumptious ass like him, who deliberately insulted everyone he came across  —  for if all or any of his efforts in that way were due to mere elemental ignorance he was not fit to live, but should be silenced on sight as a modern Caliban  —  deserved neither pity nor mercy.  To extend to him fine feeling, tolerance, and such-like gentlenesses would be to deprive the world of them without benefit to any.  So well as I can remember, what I said was something like this:

“Ernest, as you say, you’ve got to go, and to go quick, you understand.  I dare say you look on this as a land of barbarians, and think that any of your high-toned refinements are thrown away on people here.  Well, perhaps it is so.  Undoubtedly, the structure of the country is rough; the mountains may only represent the glacial epoch; but so far as I can gather from some of your exploits  —  for I have only learned a small part as yet  —  you represent a period a good deal farther back.  You seem to have given our folk here an exhibition of the playfulness of the hooligan of the Saurian stage of development; but the Blue Mountains, rough as they are, have come up out of the primeval slime, and even now the people aim at better manners.  They may be rough, primitive, barbarian, elemental, if you will, but they are not low down enough to tolerate either your ethics or your taste.  My dear cousin, your life is not safe here!  I am told that yesterday, only for the restraint exercised by certain offended mountaineers on other grounds than your own worth, you would have been abbreviated by the head.  Another day of your fascinating presence would do away with this restraint, and then we should have a scandal.  I am a new-comer here myself  —  too new a comer to be able to afford a scandal of that kind  —  and so I shall not delay your going.  Believe me, my dear cousin, Ernest Roger Halbard Melton, of Humcroft, Salop, that I am inconsolable about your resolution of immediate departure, but I cannot shut my eyes to its wisdom.  At present the matter is altogether amongst ourselves, and when you have gone  —  if it be immediately  —  silence will be observed on all hands for the sake of the house wherein you are a guest; but if there be time for scandal to spread, you will be made, whether you be alive or dead, a European laughing-stock.  Accordingly, I have anticipated your wishes, and have ordered a fast steam yacht to take you to Ancona, or to whatever other port you may desire.  The yacht will be under the command of Captain Desmond, of one of our battleships  —  a most determined officer, who will carry out any directions which may be given to him.  This will insure your safety so far as Italian territory.  Some of his officials will arrange a special carriage for you up to Flushing, and a cabin on the steamer to Queenboro’.  A man of mine will travel on the train and steamer with you, and will see that whatever you may wish in the way of food or comfort will be provided.  Of course, you understand, my dear cousin, that you are my guest until you arrive in London.  I have not asked Rooke to accompany you, as when he went to meet you, it was a mistake.  Indeed, there might have been a danger to you which I never contemplated  —  a quite unnecessary danger, I assure you.  But happily Admiral Rooke, though a man of strong passions, has wonderful self-control.”

“Admiral Rooke?” he queried.  “Admiral?”

“Admiral, certainly,” I replied, “but not an ordinary Admiral  —  one of many.  He is
the
Admiral  —  the Lord High Admiral of the Land of the Blue Mountains, with sole control of its expanding navy.  When such a man is treated as a valet, there may be . . . But why go into this?  It is all over.  I only mention it lest anything of a similar kind should occur with Captain Desmond, who is a younger man, and therefore with probably less self-repression.”

I saw that he had learned his lesson, and so said no more on the subject.

There was another reason for his going which I did not speak of.  Sir Colin MacKelpie was coming with his clansmen, and I knew he did not like Ernest Melton.  I well remembered that episode of his offering one finger to the old gentleman in Mr. Trent’s office, and, moreover, I had my suspicions that Aunt Janet’s being upset was probably in some measure due to some rudeness of his that she did not wish to speak about.  He is really an impossible young man, and is far better out of this country than in it.  If he remained here, there would be some sort of a tragedy for certain.

I must say that it was with a feeling of considerable relief that I saw the yacht steam out of the creek, with Captain Desmond on the bridge and my cousin beside him.

Quite other were my feelings when, an hour after,
The Lady
came flying into the creek with the Lord High Admiral on the bridge, and beside him, more splendid and soldier-like than ever, Sir Colin MacKelpie.  Mr. Bingham Trent was also on the bridge.

The General was full of enthusiasm regarding his regiment, for in all, those he brought with him and those finishing their training at home, the force is near the number of a full regiment.  When we were alone he explained to me that all was arranged regarding the non-commissioned officers, but that he had held over the question of officers until we should have had a suitable opportunity of talking the matter over together.  He explained to me his reasons, which were certainly simple and cogent.  Officers, according to him, are a different class, and accustomed to a different standard altogether of life and living, of duties and pleasures.  They are harder to deal with and more difficult to obtain.  “There was no use,” he said, “in getting a lot of failures, with old-crusted ways of their own importance.  We must have young men for our purpose  —  that is, men not old, but with some experience  —  men, of course, who know how to behave themselves, or else, from what little I have seen of the Blue Mountaineers, they wouldn’t last long here if they went on as some of them do elsewhere.  I shall start things here as you wish me to, for I am here, my dear boy, to stay with you and Janet, and we shall, if it be given to us by the Almighty, help to build up together a new ‘nation’  —  an ally of Britain, who will stand at least as an outpost of our own nation, and a guardian of our eastern road.  When things are organised here on the military side, and are going strong, I shall, if you can spare me, run back to London for a few weeks.  Whilst I am there I shall pick up a lot of the sort of officers we want.  I know that there are loads of them to be had.  I shall go slowly, however, and carefully, too, and every man I bring back will be recommended to me by some old soldier whom I know, and who knows the man he recommends, and has seen him work.  We shall have, I dare say, an army for its size second to none in the world, and the day may come when your old country will be proud of your new one.  Now I’m off to see that all is ready for my people  —  your people now.”

I had had arrangements made for the comfort of the clansmen and the women, but I knew that the good old soldier would see for himself that his men were to be comfortable.  It was not for nothing that he was  —  is  —  looked on as perhaps the General most beloved by his men in the whole British Army.

When he had gone, and I was alone, Mr. Trent, who had evidently been waiting for the opportunity, came to me.  When we had spoken of my marriage and of Teuta, who seems to have made an immense impression on him, he said suddenly:

“I suppose we are quite alone, and that we shall not be interrupted?”  I summoned the man outside  —  there is always a sentry on guard outside my door or near me, wherever I may be  —  and gave orders that I was not to be disturbed until I gave fresh orders.  “If,” I said, “there be anything pressing or important, let the Voivodin or Miss MacKelpie know.  If either of them brings anyone to me, it will be all right.”

When we were quite alone Mr. Trent took a slip of paper and some documents from the bag which was beside him.  He then read out items from the slip, placing as he did so the documents so checked over before him.

1.  New Will made on marriage, to be signed presently.

2.  Copy of the Re-conveyance of Vissarion estates to Peter Vissarion, as directed by Will of Roger Melton.

3.  Report of Correspondence with Privy Council, and proceedings following.

Taking up the last named, he untied the red tape, and, holding the bundle in his hand, went on:

“As you may, later on, wish to examine the details of the Proceedings, I have copied out the various letters, the originals of which are put safely away in my strong-room where, of course, they are always available in case you may want them.  For your present information I shall give you a rough synopsis of the Proceedings, referring where advisable to this paper.

“On receipt of your letter of instructions regarding the Consent of the Privy Council to your changing your nationality in accordance with the terms of Roger Melton’s Will, I put myself in communication with the Clerk of the Privy Council, informing him of your wish to be naturalized in due time to the Land of the Blue Mountains.  After some letters between us, I got a summons to attend a meeting of the Council.