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Meanwhile, Charles Holland had taken his uncle by the arm and led him into a dimly lit, private room. The walls, lined with dusty bookshelves, seemed to close in around them, casting an oppressive silence over the scene.

“Dear uncle,” Charles began, his voice trembling slightly, “be seated, and I will explain everything without reserve.”

“Seated! Nonsense! I’ll walk about,” the admiral barked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “Damn me! I’ve no patience to be seated, and very seldom had or have. Go on now, you young scamp.”

“Well, well; you abuse me, but I am quite sure, had you been in my situation, you would have acted precisely as I have done,” Charles said, trying to maintain his composure.

“No, I shouldn’t,” the admiral snapped, pacing back and forth, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor.

“Well, but, uncle—”

“Don’t think to come over me by calling me uncle. Hark you, Charles—from this moment I won’t be your uncle any more.”

“Very well, sir.”

“It ain’t very well. And how dare you, you buccaneer, call me sir, eh? I say, how dare you?”

“I will call you anything I like,” Charles retorted, trying to keep his frustration in check.

“But I won’t be called anything I like. You might as well call me at once Morgan the Pirate, for he was called anything he liked. Hilloa, sir! How dare you laugh, eh? I’ll teach you to laugh at me. I wish I had you on board ship—that’s all, you young rascal. I’d soon teach you to laugh at your superior officer, I would.”

“Oh, uncle, I did not laugh at you,” Charles said, his tone placating.

“What did you laugh at, then?” the admiral demanded, his eyes narrowing.

“At the joke,” Charles admitted, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips.

“Joke. Damn me, there was no joke at all!” the admiral growled.

“Oh, very good,” Charles replied, knowing better than to argue.

“And it ain’t very good,” the admiral shot back.

Charles knew that this storm of temper would soon blow over, so he waited patiently, allowing his uncle’s anger to run its course.

“Well, well,” the old man finally said, a grudging note of calm entering his voice, “you have dragged me here into a very small and very dull room under pretense of having something to tell me, and I have heard nothing yet.”

“Then I will now tell you,” Charles said, taking a deep breath. “I fell in love—”

“Bah!” the admiral interrupted, waving a dismissive hand.

“With Flora Bennett, abroad; she is not only the most beautiful of created beings—”

“Bah!”

“But her mind is of the highest order of intelligence, honor, candor, and all amiable feelings—”

“Bah!”

“Really, uncle, if you say ‘Bah!’ to everything, I cannot go on,” Charles said, exasperation creeping into his voice.

“And what the deuce difference, sir, does it make to you whether I say ‘Bah!’ or not?” the admiral challenged.

“Well, I love her. She came to England, and, as I could not exist but was getting ill and should no doubt have died if I had not done so, I came to England,” Charles explained.

“But damn it, I want to know about the mermaid.”

“The vampire, you mean, sir.”

“Well, well, the vampire,” the admiral corrected, his curiosity piqued.

“Then, uncle, all I can tell you is that it is supposed a vampire came one night and inflicted a wound upon Flora’s neck with his teeth, and that he is still endeavoring to renew his horrible existence from the young, pure blood that flows through her veins,” Charles said, his voice heavy with the weight of the revelation.

“The devil he is!” the admiral exclaimed, shock evident in his expression.

“Yes. I am bewildered, I must confess, by the mass of circumstances that have combined to give the affair a horrible truthfulness. Poor Flora is much injured in health and spirits; and when I came home, she at once implored me to give her up and think of her no more, for she could not think of allowing me to unite my fate with hers under such circumstances,” Charles continued, his eyes filled with sorrow.

“She did?” the admiral asked, his tone softening.

“Such were her words, uncle. She implored me—she used the word ‘implore’—to fly from her, to leave her to her fate, to endeavor to find happiness with someone else,” Charles said, his voice breaking.

“Well?” the admiral prompted, leaning in closer.

“But I saw her heart was breaking,” Charles said, his eyes meeting his uncle’s.

“What o’ that?” the admiral grumbled, though a hint of concern flickered in his eyes.

“Much of that, uncle. I told her that when I deserted her in the hour of misfortune, I hoped Heaven would desert me. I told her that if her happiness was wrecked, to cling yet to me, and that with what power and what strength God had given me, I would stand between her and all ill,” Charles declared, his voice filled with determination.

“And what then?” the admiral asked, his gaze softening as he watched his nephew’s earnest face.

Charles stood in the shadows of the dimly lit room, his uncle’s piercing eyes upon him. He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “She—she fell upon my breast and wept, blessing me. Could I desert her? Could I say, ‘My dear girl, when you were full of health and beauty, I loved you, but now that sadness has taken hold of you, I leave you’? Could I tell her that, uncle, and yet call myself a man?”

“No!” bellowed the old admiral, his voice reverberating through the room, shaking the dust from the rafters. “And I’ll tell you what, if you had done so, damn you, you puppy, I’d have braced you, and married the girl myself. I would, damn it, but I would.”

“Dear uncle!”

“Don’t ‘dear’ me, sir. Talk of deserting a girl when the signal of distress, in the shape of a tear, is in her eye?”

“But I—”

“You are a wretch—a confounded, lubberly boy—a swab—a damned bad grampus.”

“You mistake, uncle.”

“No, I don’t. God bless you, Charles, you shall have her—even if a whole ship’s crew of vampires said no, you shall have her. Let me see her—just let me see her.”

The admiral wiped his lips vigorously with his sleeve, his eyes gleaming with determination. Charles, sensing the need for caution, spoke hastily, “My dear uncle, you will remember that Miss Bennett is quite a young lady.”

“I suppose she is.”

“Well, then, for God’s sake, don’t attempt to kiss her.”

“Not kiss her? Damn it, they like it. Not kiss her, because she’s a young lady! Damn it, do you think I’d kiss a corporal of marines?”

“No, uncle; but you know young ladies are very delicate.”

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“And ain’t I delicate—shiver my timbers, ain’t I delicate? Where is she? That’s what I want to know.”

“Then you approve of what I have done?” Charles asked, a hint of relief in his voice.

“You are a young scamp, but you have got some of the old admiral’s family blood in you, so don’t take any credit for acting like an honest man—you couldn’t help it.”

“But if I had not so acted,” said Charles, with a smile, “what would have become of the family blood, then?”

“What’s that to you? I would have disowned you, because that very thing would have convinced me you were an impostor, and did not belong to the family at all.”

“Well, that would have been one way of getting over the difficulty.”

“No difficulty at all. The man who deserts the good ship that carries him through the waves, or the girl that trusts her heart to him, ought to be chopped up into meat for wild monkeys.”

“Well, I think so too.”

“Of course you do.”

“Why, of course?”

“Because it’s so damn reasonable that, being a nephew of mine, you can’t possibly help it.”

“Bravo, uncle! I had no idea you were so argumentative.”

“Hadn’t you, a spooney; you’d be an ornament to the gun-room, you would; but where’s the ‘young lady’ who is so infernal delicate—where is she, I say?”

“I will fetch her, uncle.”

“Ah, do; I’ll be bound, now, she’s one of the right build—a good figurehead, and don’t make too much sternway.”

“Well, well, whatever you do, now don’t pay her any compliments, for your efforts in that line are of such a very doubtful order, that I shall dread to hear you.”

“You be off, and mind your own business; I haven’t been at sea forty years without picking up some out-and-out delicate compliments to say to a young lady.”

“But do you really imagine, now, that the deck of a man-of-war is a nice place to pick up courtly compliments in?”

“Of course I do. There you hear the best of language, damn it! You don’t know what you are talking about, you fellows that have stuck on shore all your lives; it’s we seamen who learn life.”

“Well, well—hark!”

“What’s that?”

“A cry—did you not hear a cry?”

“A signal of distress, by God!”

In their efforts to leave the room, the uncle and nephew blocked up the doorway for a moment, but the superior bulk of the admiral prevailed, and after nearly flattening poor Charles, he got out first.

But this did not avail him, for he knew not where to go. Now, the second scream that Flora had uttered when the vampire clasped her waist echoed through the hall, acting as a guide.

Charles, his heart pounding, dashed towards the room known as “Flora’s own room,” the shadows closing in around him as he ran at a tremendous speed.

Henry reached Flora’s room first, driven by an urgent dread. He burst through the door, barely registering the ominous creak of the old hinges. Moments later, Charles followed, his heart pounding in his chest. Henry was already lifting Flora from the cold, wooden floor.

“God of Heaven!” cried Charles, his voice echoing off the shadowed walls. “What has happened?”

“I know not,” Henry replied, his voice strained with fear. “As God is my judge, I know not. Flora, Flora, speak to us! Flora! Flora!”

“She has fainted!” Charles exclaimed, desperation in his eyes. “Some water may restore her. Oh, Henry, Henry, is not this horrible?”

“Courage! Courage!” Henry urged, though his own voice trembled. “You will find water in that decanter, Charles. Here is my mother, too! Another visit! God help us!”

Mrs. Bennett sat down on the edge of the sofa, her hands wringing, tears streaming down her cheeks. The room’s heavy velvet drapes seemed to absorb the sorrow, creating an oppressive atmosphere.

“Avast!” cried Admiral Bell as he stormed in, his presence commanding. “Where’s the enemy, lads?”

“Uncle,” said Charles, his voice cracking. “Uncle, uncle, the vampire has been here again—the dreadful vampire!”

“Damn me, and he’s gone too, and carried half the window with him. Look there!”

It was true. The long latticed window was shattered, jagged shards of glass reflecting the flickering candlelight.

“Help! Oh, help!” Flora murmured as the cold water splashed on her face brought her back to consciousness.

“You are safe!” cried Henry, gripping her hand. “You are safe!”

“Flora,” said Charles, leaning close. “You know my voice, dear Flora? Look up, and you will see there are none here but those who love you.”

Flora opened her eyes, her gaze darting around the room. “Has it gone?”

“Yes, yes, dear,” Charles reassured her. “Look around you; here are none but true friends.”

“And tried friends, my dear,” added Admiral Bell, his gruff voice attempting to soothe. “Excepting me; and whenever you like to try me, afloat or ashore, damn me, show me Old Nick himself, and I won’t shrink—yard arm and yard arm—grapnel to grapnel—pitch pots and grenades!”

“This is my uncle, Flora,” said Charles, his tone softening.

“I thank you, sir,” Flora whispered faintly, her strength waning.

“All right!” the admiral whispered to Charles. “What a figurehead to be sure! Poll at Swansea would have made just about four of her, but she wasn’t so delicate, damn me!”

“I should think not,” Charles replied, trying to hide a smile.

“You are right for once in a way, Charley.”

Charles turned his attention back to Flora, his voice tender. “What was it that alarmed you?”

“Lazarus—Lazarus, the vampire.”

“Lazarus!” Henry exclaimed, his face paling. “Lazarus here!”

“Yes, he came in at that door; and when I screamed, I suppose—for I was hardly conscious—he darted out through the window.”

“This,” said Henry, his voice filled with righteous anger, “is beyond all human patience. By Heaven! I cannot and will not endure it.”

“It shall be my quarrel,” Charles declared, his eyes burning with resolve. “I shall go at once and defy him. He shall meet me.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Flora cried, clinging to Charles with desperate strength. “No, no; there is a better way.”

“What way?” Charles asked, his voice softening as he looked into her terrified eyes.

“The place has become full of terrors. Let us leave it. Let him, as he wishes, have it.”

“Let him have it?” Charles echoed, bewildered.

“Yes, yes,” Flora insisted, her voice trembling. “God knows, if it purchases immunity from these visits, we may well be overjoyed. Remember that we have ample reasons to believe him more than human. Why should you allow yourselves to risk a personal encounter with such a man, who might be glad to kill you that he might have an opportunity of replenishing his own hideous existence from your best heart’s blood?”

The young men looked at each other, horror-stricken.

“Besides,” added Flora, her voice barely above a whisper, “you cannot tell what dreadful powers of mischief he may have, against which human courage might be of no avail.”

“There is truth and reason,” said Mr. O’Hara, stepping forward, his face grave. “In what Flora says.”

“Only let me come across him, that’s all,” growled Admiral Bell. “I’ll soon find out what he is. I suppose he’s some long slab of a lubber after all, ain’t he, with no strength.”

The tension in the room was palpable, the oppressive gloom closing in as the horror of their situation settled over them like a dark shroud.

O’Hara’s voice quivered with the weight of his words. “His strength is immense. I tried to seize him, and I fell beneath his arm as if struck by the hammer of a Cyclops.”

“A what?” barked the admiral, his eyes narrowing.

“A Cyclops,” O’Hara repeated, exasperation creeping into his tone.

“Damn me, I served aboard the Cyclops for eleven years and never saw a hammer that big,” the admiral retorted, his confusion evident.

“What on earth is to be done?” Henry interjected, his voice a strained whisper in the dim light.

“Oh,” the admiral chimed in, “there’s always a bother about what’s to be done on earth. Now, at sea, I could soon tell you what was to be done.”

“We must hold a solemn consultation over this matter,” Henry declared, his gaze shifting to Flora. “You are safe now, Flora.”

Flora, trembling, clutched her brother’s arm. “Oh, be ruled by me. Give up the Hall.”

“You tremble,” Henry observed, concern etching his features.

“I do tremble, brother, for what may yet ensue. I implore you to give up the Hall. It is but a terror to us now—give it up. Have no more to do with it. Let us make terms with Sir Ferdinand Lazarus. Remember, we dare not kill him.”

“He ought to be smothered,” growled the admiral, his fists clenched.

“It is true,” Henry admitted, “we dare not, even holding all the terrible suspicions we do, take his life.”

“By foul means certainly not,” Charles agreed, though his voice carried a hint of defiance. “Were he ten times a vampire. I cannot, however, believe that he is so invulnerable as he is represented.”

“No one represents him here,” O’Hara said, his tone defensive. “I speak, sir, because I saw you glance at me. I only know that, having made two unsuccessful attempts to seize him, he eluded me. Once he left a piece of his coat in my grasp, and the next time he struck me down. I still feel the effects of that blow.”

“You hear?” Flora asked, her voice quavering.

“Yes, I hear,” Charles replied, his tone somber.

“For some reason,” O’Hara continued, emotion lacing his words, “what I say seems to fall badly upon Mr. Holland’s ear. I know not why; but if it will give him any satisfaction, I will leave Bennett Hall tonight.”

“No, no, no,” Henry pleaded. “For the love of Heaven, do not let us quarrel.”

“Hear, hear,” cried the admiral. “We can never fight the enemy well if the ship’s crew are on bad terms. Come now, you Charles, this appears to be an honest, gentlemanly fellow—give him your hand.”

“If Mr. Charles Holland,” said O’Hara, “knows aught to my prejudice in any way, however slight, I here beg of him to declare it at once, and openly.”

“I cannot assert that I do,” Charles admitted reluctantly.

“Then what the deuce do you make yourself so disagreeable for, eh?” the admiral demanded.

“One cannot help one’s impressions and feelings,” Charles muttered, “but I am willing to take Mr. O’Hara’s hand.”

“And I yours, young sir,” O’Hara replied, extending his hand. “In all sincerity of spirit, and with goodwill towards you.”

They shook hands, but it was a cold gesture, lacking warmth or genuine reconciliation.

“There now,” said the admiral, “that’s better.”

“Now, let us hold counsel about this Lazarus,” said Henry. “Come to the parlor, all of you, and we will endeavor to come to some decided arrangement.”

“Do not weep, mother,” Flora implored. “All may yet be well. We will leave this place.”

“We will consider that question, Flora,” said Henry, his tone softening. “And believe me, your wishes will go a long way with all of us, as you may well suppose they always would.”

They left Mrs. Bennett with Flora and proceeded to the small, oaken parlor, its walls adorned with intricate and beautiful carvings that seemed to dance in the flickering candlelight. The atmosphere was thick with tension and unspoken fears.

Henry’s countenance was the most determined, his mind set on putting an end to the horrors that plagued their home. Charles appeared serious and thoughtful, contemplating a course of action he had yet to fully commit to. O’Hara’s demeanor was one of sadness and resignation, weighed down by the night’s events.

The admiral, bewildered and anxious, struggled to find his place in this strange new reality, so far removed from his seafaring days. The parlor seemed to close in around them, the dark wood and flickering shadows creating an almost claustrophobic sense of urgency.

George had gone to call on Mr. Churchill, leaving the first part of this grave council of war to be conducted without him.