Chapter 2
In a room next to the kitchen, where he let me go, I found a great number of books in Latin and English. On the first page in one book, I found this written by my father’s hand: “To my brother Ebenezer on his fifth birthday.”
I was puzzled. The eldest son Ebenezer had inherited the house, so my father was the younger brother. But a child younger than five could not have written so neatly.
When I asked my uncle if perhaps they were twins, he jumped at me and grabbed my jacket.
“Stop it, David,” he said, “you should not speak to me about your father.”
I began to think my uncle was insane and dangerous. I also thought of the ballad of a poor lad whose wicked kinsman tried to keep land that was the lad’s.
That night my uncle asked me to go to the stair tower at the far end of the house. He wanted a chest of papers that was at the top of the tower.
“Can I have a light, sir?” said I.
“No,” said he, very cunningly, “No lights in my house.”
“Are the stairs good?”
“They’re grand,” said he, “Keep to the wall. There’s no banister. But the stairs are good underfoot.”
Out I went into the night. The wind was moaning in the distance, though never a breath of it came near the house of Shaws.
Night had fallen blacker than ever. I felt along the wall till I came to the stair tower door at the far end of the unfinished wing.
It was so dark inside the tower that I felt I could hardly breathe. I kept close to the tower side and felt my way in the pitch darkness with a beating heart. I went up the stairs on my hands and knees as slowly as a snail.
The house of Shaws was five storeys high. I had come to one of the turns in the stairway, when, feeling forward as usual, my hand slipped over an edge and found nothing but emptiness beyond it. A sudden blink of summer lightning showed me I had been climbing on an open scaffold. The tower had never been finished. I was so full of fear that my cry stuck in my throat. If I had taken another step, I would have fallen and died.
I turned and felt my way down again with a great anger in my heart. About halfway down, the wind sprang up in a clap and shook the tower and then died again. The rain followed.
“Are you alive?” he sobbed, “O man, are you alive?”
“That I am,” said I, “Small thanks to you!”
I set him on a chair and looked at him. I demanded to know why he lied to me.
“I’ll tell you in the morning,” he said, “As sure as death I will.”
He was so weak I could do nothing but agree. I locked him in his room. Then I made a big fire in a kitchen and fell asleep.
There was now no doubt that my uncle was my enemy. I feared he might do anything to harm me.
After I had let him out of his room, I asked, “Why do you fear me, cheat me and try to kill me?”
I saw by his face he had no lie ready for me, though he was hard at work thinking of one. We were interrupted by a knocking at the door.
I found on the doorstep a half-grown boy in sea-clothes. He was blue with the cold.
“What cheer, mate?” said he, with a cracked voice. “I’ve brought a letter from old Heasyoasy to Mr. Belfour. And I say, mate, I’m hungry.”
“Well,” said I, “come in and you shall have a bite if I go empty for it.”
He fell greedily on the remains of breakfast while my uncle read the letter. Soon my uncle looked up at me and said, “I have business with this man Hoseason, Captain of the Covenant, the trading brig. If you and me was to walk over with you lad, I could see the captain in town, or maybe on board the Covenant, and then we could jog on to the lawyer, Mr. Rankeillor’s. He’s lawyer for half the gentlemen in these parts. And he knew your father.”
I stood awhile and thought, ‘My uncle would not harm me if many people were near. And here was a chance to meet someone who could tell me the story of my family, a man who had known my father. I also wished a closer view of the sea and ships, which I had seen for the first time in my life just two days before.
While we walked, I talked to the cabin boy, Ransome. He had gone to sea at nine and couldn’t say how old he was now. He showed me tattoo marks and boasted of many wild and bad things he had done. I pitied him more than I believed him.
He ran on about Heasyoasy, as he called the captain, and told me of a Mr. Shuan, a mate who beat him sometimes and gave him brandy. Then he talked of the unhappy criminals who were sent overseas on ships like the Covenant to slavery in North America, and the more unhappy innocent men who were kidnapped and taken to America to be sold for money.
Just then we came to the top of the hill. The place looked pretty lonely. There were not many people abut. A small boat was at the pier. Some seamen were asleep in it.
Ransome told me this was the brig’s boat waiting for the captain. He pointed out the Covenant herself, at anchor about half a mile yards were swinging into place. I could hear the song of the sailors as they pulled upon the ropes. After all that I had listened to on the way, and I pitied all the poor souls that had to sail in it.
I decided that nothing could made me board the Covenant.
As we came to the inn, Ransome led us up that stair to a small room that was heated like an oven by a great fire of coal. At a table close by the chimney, a tall, dark, stern man sat writing. I never saw any man look cooler or more studious than this ship captain.
“I am proud to see you, Mr. Balfour,” said he, offering his large hand to Ebenezer. They sat down to a bottle and a great mass of papers. Although I had promised myself not to let my uncle out of sight yet, I was impatient for a look at the sea. The room was so hot. When my uncle said, “Go out by yourself awhile,” I was fool enough to do so.
The smell of seawater was very salty and stirring. The Covenant was beginning to shake out its sails, and I thought of far voyage and foreign places. I looked at the seamen—big brown fellows, some in shirts, some with jackets, some with coloured handkerchiefs, some with heavy clubs. All had knives, I talked with one of them, then returned to the inn with Ransome.
The landlord there began talking about Ebenezer. He told us of the rumour that he had killed his brother Alexander, who was my father. This interested me.
“And what would he kill him for?” said I.
“To get the place,” said he, “Alexander was the eldest son.”
I sat stunned with my good fortune and could scarcely believe that the same poor lad who had walked from Essendean only two days ago was now rich. The house of Shaws belonged to me by right of birth. It was a pleasant thought.
I heard a voice calling me. It was the captain, who invited me aboard his brig to drink a bowl. Now, I longed to see the inside of a ship more than words could tell. But I was not going to put myself in danger, so I told him that my uncle and I had an appointment with a lawyer.
The captain passed an arm through mine and leaning down, warned me about the schemes of my uncle. I thought (poor fool that I was!) that I had found a good friend and helper, and began to doubt Ransome’s stories about this fine man.
My uncle, the captain and I joined the men in the boat that would take us to the ship. Hoseason declared that he and I must be the first aboard. I was whipped into the air on a tackle sent down from the mainyard and set on deck. I was a little dizzy as the ship rolled, perhaps a little afraid, yet very pleased with the strange sights.
“But where is my uncle?” said I suddenly.
“Oh,” said Hoseason, with a sudden grimness, “that’s the point.”
I saw my uncle sitting in the stern of the boat pulling back to the dock. His face was full of cruelty and terror.
