Jane Talbot Part 37

M. MONTFORD.

Letter LXIV

_To Mrs. Talbot_

New York, December 12.

I cannot leave this sh.o.r.e without thanking the mistress of my destiny for all her goodness. Yet I should not have ventured thus to address you, had I not seen a letter--Dearest creature, blame not your friend for betraying you. Think it not a rash or injurious confession that you have made.

And is it possible that you have not totally forgotten the sweet scenes of our childhood,--that absence has not degraded me in your opinion,--and that my devotion, if it continue as fervent as now, may look, in a few years, for its reward?

Could you prevail on yourself to hide these generous emotions from me?

To suffer me to leave my country in the dreary belief that all former incidents were held in contempt, and that, so far from being high in your esteem, my presence was troublesome, my existence was irksome, to you?

But your motive was beneficent and generous. You were content to be thought unfeeling and ungrateful for the sake of my happiness. I rejoice inexpressibly in that event which has removed the veil from your true sentiments. Nothing but pure felicity to me can flow from it. Nothing but grat.i.tude and honour can redound from it to yourself.

I go; but not with anguish and despondency for my companions. I am buoyed up by the light wings of hope. The prospect of gaining your love is not the only source of my present happiness. If it were, I should be a criminal and selfish being. No. My chief delight is, that happiness is yet in store for you; that, should Heaven have denied you your first hope, there still lives one whose claim to make you happy will not be rejected.

G. CARTWRIGHT.

Letter LXV

_To G. Cartwright_

Banks of Delaware, October 5.

My brother:--

It would avail me nothing to deny the confessions to which you allude.

Neither will I conceal from you that I am much grieved at the discovery.

Far am I from deeming your good opinion of little value; but in this case I was more anxious to deserve it than possess it.

Little, indeed, did you know me, when you imagined me insensible to your merit and forgetful of the happy days of our childhood,--the recollection of which has a thousand times made my tears flow. I thank Heaven that the evils which I have suffered have had no tendency to deaden my affections, to narrow my heart.

The joy which I felt for your departure was far from being unmixed. The persuasion that my friend and brother was going where he was likely to find that tranquillity of which his stay here would bereave him, but imperfectly soothed the pangs of a long and perhaps an eternal separation.

Farewell; my fervent and disinterested blessings go with you. Return speedily to your country, but bring with you a heart devoted to another, and only glowing with a brotherly affection for

J. T.

Letter LXVI

_To Jane Talbot_

New York, November 15.

The fear that what I have to communicate may be imparted more abruptly and with false or exaggerated circ.u.mstances induces me to write to you.

Yesterday week, a s.h.i.+p arrived in this port from Batavia, in which my husband's brother, Stephen Montford, came pa.s.senger.

You will be terrified at these words; but calm your apprehensions.

Harry does _not_ accompany him, it is true, nor are we acquainted with his present situation.

The story of their unfortunate voyage cannot be minutely related now.

Suffice it to say that a wicked and turbulent wretch, whom they s.h.i.+pped in the West Indies as mate, the former dying on the voyage thither, gave rise, by his intrigues among the crew, to a mutiny.

After a prosperous navigation and some stay at Nootka, they prepared to cross the ocean to Asia. They pursued the usual route of former traders, and, after touching at the Sandwich Islands, they made the land of j.a.pan.

At this period, the mutiny, which had long been hatching, broke out.

The whole crew, including the mate, joined the conspiracy. Montford and my brother were the objects of this conspiracy.

The original design was to murder them both and throw their bodies into the sea; but this cruel proposal was thwarted both, by compa.s.sion and by policy, and it was resolved to set my brother ash.o.r.e on the first inhospitable land they should meet, and retain Montford to a.s.sist them in the navigation of the vessel, designing to destroy him when his services should no longer be necessary.

This scheme was executed as soon, as they came in sight of an outlying isle or dry sand-bank on the eastern coast of j.a.pan. Here they seized the two unsuspecting youths, at daybreak, while asleep in their _berths_, and, immediately putting out their boat, landed my brother on the sh.o.r.e, without clothing or provisions of any kind. Montford pet.i.tioned to share the fate of his friend, but they would not listen to it.

Six days afterwards, they lighted on a Spanish s.h.i.+p bound to Manilla, which was in want of water. A party of the Spaniards came on board in search of some supply of that necessary article.

On their coming, Montford was driven below and disabled from giving, by his cries, any alarm. The sentinel who guarded him had received orders to keep him in that situation till the visitants had departed. Prom some impulse of humanity, or mistake of orders, the sentinel freed him from restraint a few minutes earlier than had been intended, and he got on deck before the departing strangers had gone to any considerable distance from the s.h.i.+p. He immediately leaped into the sea and made for the boat, to which, being a very vigorous swimmer, he arrived in safety.

The mutineers, finding their victim had escaped, endeavoured to make the best of their way, but were soon overtaken by the Spanish vessel, to whose officers Montford made haste to explain the true state of affairs.

They were carried to Manilla, where Montford sold his vessel and cargo on very advantageous terms. From thence, after many delays, he got to Batavia, and from thence returned home.

I have thus given you, my friend, an imperfect account of their misfortunes. I need not add that no tidings has been received, or can reasonably be hoped ever to be received, of my brother.

I could not write on such a subject sooner. For some days I had thoughts of being wholly silent on this news. Indeed, my emotions would not immediately permit me to use the pen; but I have concluded, and it is my husband's earnest advice, to tell you the whole truth.

Be not too much distressed, my sister, my friend. Fain would I give you that consolation which I myself want. I entreat you, let me hear from you soon, and tell me that you are not very much afflicted. Yet I could not believe you if you did. Write to me speedily, however.

Letter LXVII

_To Mrs. Talbot_

New York, November 23.