Cord and Creese | Page 8

my wife refused to leave her son. She
was resolved, she said, to stay by him till the last. I tried to dissuade her,
but could not move her. I told her that I could not be a domestic. She
said that she could do even that for the sake of her boy. And she went
off at once and got a situation as nurse with the same Colonel Despard

with whom Briggs, or, as he called himself, Potts, was staying."
"What was the Christian name of this Potts?" asked Brandon, calmly.
"John--John Potts."
Brandon said nothing further, and Compton resumed.
"Thus my wife actually left me. I could not stay and be a slave. So I
made her promise to write me, and told her that I would send her as
much money as I could. She clung to me half broken-hearted as I left
her. Our parting was a bitter one--bitter enough: but I would rather
break my heart with grief than be a servant. Besides, she knew that
whenever she came back my heart was open to receive her.
"I came back to my lonely life out here and lived for nearly two years.
At last, in September 1828, a mail arrived from India bringing a letter
from my wife and Indian papers. The news which they brought
well-nigh drove me mad."
Compton buried his face in his hands and remained silent for some
time.
"You couldn't have been more than a child at that time, but perhaps you
may have heard of the mysterious murder of Colonel Despard?"
He looked inquiringly at Brandon, but the latter gave no sign.
[Illustration: "THERE'S SOME MYSTERY ABOUT IT WHICH I
CAN'T FATHOM."]
"Perhaps not," he continued--"no: you were too young, of course. Well,
it was in the Vishnu, a brig in which the Colonel had embarked for
Manilla. The brig was laden with hogshead staves and box shooks, and
the Colonel went there partly for his health, partly on business, taking
with him his valet Potts."
"What became of his family?" interrupted Brandon.

"He had a son in England at school. His wife had died not long before
this at one of the hill stations, where she had gone for her health. Grief
may have had something to do with the Colonel's voyage, for he was
very much attached to his wife.
"Mails used only to come at long intervals in those days and this one
brought the account not only of the Colonel's fate, but of the trial at
Manilla and the execution of the man that was condemned.
"It was a very mysterious case. In the month of July a boat arrived at
Manilla which carried the crew and one passenger from the brig Vishnu.
One of the men, a Malay named Uracao, was in irons, and he was
immediately given up to the authorities."
"Who were the others?"
"Potts, as he called himself, the Colonel's valet, Clark, three Lascars,
and the Captain, an Italian named Cigole. Information was at once laid
against the Malay. Potts was the chief witness. He said that he slept in
the cabin while the Colonel slept in an inner state-room; that one
morning early he was roused by a frightful shriek and saw Uracao
rushing from the Colonel's state-room. He sprang up, chased him, and
caught him just as he was about to leap overboard. His creese covered
with blood was in his hand. The Colonel, when they went to look at
him, had his throat cut from ear to ear. Clark swore that he was steering
the vessel and saw Potts catch Uracao, and helped to hold him. The
Captain, Cigole, swore that he was waked by the noise, and rushed out
in time to see this. Clark had gone as mate of the vessel. Of the Lascars,
two had been down below, but one was on deck and swore to have seen
the same. On this testimony Uracao was condemned and executed."
"How did they happen to leave the brig?"
"They said that a great storm came up about three days' sail from
Manilla, the vessel sprang a leak, and they had to take to the boat. Their
testimony was very clear indeed, and there were no contradictions; but
in spite of all this it was felt to be a very mysterious case, and even the
exhibition of the Malay creese, carefully covered with the stains of

blood, did not altogether dispel this feeling."
"Have you got the papers yet, or are there any in Sydney that contain an
account of this affair?"
"I have kept them all. You may read the whole case if you care about
it."
"I should like to, very much," said Brandon, with great calmness.
"When I heard of this before the mail was opened I felt