the brassbounder _a tale of the sea_ by david w. bone author of "broken stowage" duckworth henrietta street london, w.c. . all rights reserved first published . reprinted (twice) . reprinted . popular edition printed . reprinted and . reprinted (new readers library) . made and printed in great britain by the camelot press limited london and southampton to james hamilton muir the new readers library . green mansions by w. h. hudson . the polyglots by william gerhardi . the sea and the jungle by h. m. tomlinson . the roadmender by michael fairless . the terror by arthur machen . lost diaries by maurice baring . the bonadventure by edmund blunden . success by cunningham graham . birds and man by w. h. hudson . the black monk by anton tchekoff . god's country by james oliver curwood . bucolic comedies by edith sitwell . the brassbounder by david w. bone . the purple land by w. h. hudson . calaban's guide to letters and lamkin's remains by hilaire belloc . obiter dicta by augustine birrell . amaryllis at the fair by richard jefferies . a crystal age by w. h. hudson . the kiss by anton tchekoff . gossip of the th and th centuries by john beresford . futility by william gerhardi . triple fugue by osbert sitwell . el ombÚ by w. h. hudson . six short plays by john galsworthy contents i. the 'blue peter' ii. steersmanship iii. the way of the half-deck iv. the 'dead horse' v. 'sea price' vi. rounding the horn vii. a hot cargo viii. work! ix. in 'frisco town x. the difficulty with the 'torreador's' xi. the 'convalescent' xii. on the sacramento xiii. homeward! xiv. a trick at the wheel xv. ''oly joes' xvi. east, half south! xvii. adrift xviii. "----after forty year!" xix. 'in little scotland' xx. under the flag xxi. 'doldrums' xxii. on sunday xxiii. a landfall xxiv. falmouth for orders xxv. "t' wind'ard!" xxvi. like a man epilogue: " " the brassbounder i the 'blue peter' ding ... dong.... ding ... dong. the university bells toll out in strength of tone that tells of south-west winds and misty weather. on the street below my window familiar city noises, unheeded by day, strike tellingly on the ear--hoof-strokes and rattle of wheels, tramp of feet on the stone flags, a snatch of song from a late reveller, then silence, broken in a little by the deep mournful note of a steamer's siren, wind-borne through the kelvin valley, or the shrilling of an engine whistle that marks a driver impatient at the junction points. sleepless, i think of my coming voyage, of the long months--years, perhaps--that will come and go ere next i lie awake hearkening to the night voices of my native city. my days of holiday--an all too brief spell of comfort and shore living--are over; another peal or more of the familiar bells and my emissary of the fates--a gorbals cabman, belike--will be at the door, ready to set me rattling over the granite setts on the direct road that leads by bath street, finnieston, and cape horn--to san francisco. a long voyage and a hard. and where next? no one seems to know! anywhere where wind blows and square-sail can carry a freight. at the office on saturday, the shipping clerk turned his palms out at my questioning. "home again, perhaps. the colonies! up the sound or across to japan," he said, looking in his _murray's diary_ and then at the clock, to see if there was time for him to nip home for his clubs and catch the . for kilmacolm. nearly seventeen months of my apprenticeship remain to be served. seventeen months of a hard sea life, between the masts of a starvation scotch barque, in the roughest of seafaring, on the long voyage, the stormy track leading westward round the horn. it will be february or march when we get down there. not the worst months, thank heaven! but bad enough at the best. and we'll be badly off this voyage, for the owners have taken two able seamen off our complement. "hard times!" they will be saying. aye! hard times--for us, who will now have to share two men's weight in working our heavily sparred barque. two new apprentices have joined. poor little devils! they don't know what it is. it seemed all very fine to that wee chap from inverary who came with his father to see the ship before he joined. how the eyes of him glinted as he looked about, proud of his brass-bound clothes and badge cap. and the mate, all smiles, showing them over the ship and telling the old hielan' clergyman what a fine vessel she was, and what an interest he took in boys, and what fine times they had on board ship, and all that! ah yes--fine times! it's as well the old chap doesn't know what he is sending his son to! how can he? we know--but we don't tell.... pride! rotten pride! we come home from our first voyage sick of it all.... would give up but for pride.... afraid to be called 'stuck sailors' ... of the sneers of our old schoolmates.... so we come home in a great show of bravery and swagger about in our brass-bound uniform and lie finely about the fine times we had ... out there! ... and then nothing will do but jimmy, next door, must be off to the sea too--to come back and play the same game on young alick! that's the way of it! ... then when the mate and them came to the half-deck, it was: "oh yes, sir! this is the boys' quarters. well! not always like that, sir--when we get away to sea, you know, and get things shipshape. oh, well no! there's not much room aboard ship, you see. this is one of our boys--mister jones." (jones, looking like a miller's man--he had been stowing ship's biscuits in the tanks--grinned foolishly at the mate's introduction: 'mister!') "we're very busy just now, getting ready for sea. everything's in a mess, as you see, sir. only joined, myself, last week. but, oh yes! it will be all right when we get to sea--when we get things shipshape and settled down, sir!" oh yes! everything will be all right then, eh? especially when we get down off the horn, and the dingy half-deck will be awash most of the time with icy water. the owners would do nothing to it this trip, in spite of our complaints. they sent a young man down from the office last week who poked at the covering boards with his umbrella and wanted to know what we were growling at. wish we had him out there--off diego ramirez. give him something to growl at with the ship working, and green seas on deck, and the water lashing about the floor of the house, washing out the lower bunks, bed and bedding, and soaking every stitch of the clothing that we had fondly hoped would keep us moderately dry in the next bitter night watch. and when (as we try with trembling, benumbed fingers to buckle on the sodden clothes) the ill-hinged door swings to, and a rush of water and a blast of icy wind chills us to the marrow, it needs but a hoarse, raucous shout from without to crown the summit of misery. "out there, the watch! turn out!" in tone that admits of no protest. "turn out, damn ye, an' stand-by t' wear ship!" (a blast of wind and rain rattles on my window-pane. _ugh_! i turn the more cosily amid my blankets.) oh yes! he would have something to growl at, that young man who asked if the 'skipp-ah' was aboard, and said he "was deshed if he could see what we hed to complain of." he would learn, painfully, that a ship, snugly moored in the south-east corner of the queen's dock (stern-on to a telephone call-box), and the same craft, labouring in the teeth of a cape horn gale, present some points of difference; that it is a far cry from ° south to the clyde repair works, and that the business of shipping is not entirely a matter of ledgers. oh well! just have to stick it, though. after all, it won't always be hard times. think of the long, sunny days drowsing along down the 'trades,' of the fine times out there in 'frisco, of joys of strenuous action greater than the shipping clerk will ever know, even if he should manage to hole out in three. seventeen months! it will soon pass, and i'll be a free man when i get back to glasgow again. seventeen months, and then--then---- ding ... dong.... ding ... dong.... ding dong.... quarter to! with a sigh for the comfort of a life ashore, i rise and dress. through the window i see the square, shrouded in mist, the nearer leafless shrubs swaying in the chill wind, pavement glistening in the flickering light of street lamps. a dismal morning to be setting off to the sea! portent of head winds and foul weather that we may meet in channel before the last of glasgow's grime and smoke-wrack is blown from the rigging. a stir in the next room marks another rising. kindly old '_ding ... dong_' has called a favourite brother from his rest to give me convoy to the harbour. ready for the road, he comes to my room. sleepy-eyed, yawning. "four o'clock! _ugh_! who ever heard of a man going to sea at four in the morning! ought to be a bright summer's day, and the sun shining and flags flying an'----" a choked laugh. "glad i'm not a sailorman to be going out on a morning like this! sure you've remembered everything? your cab should be here now. just gone four. heard the bells as i was dressing----" rattle of wheels on the granite setts--sharp, metallic ring of shod heels--a moment of looking for a number--a ring of the door-bell. "perty that's tae gang doon tae th' queen's dock wi' luggage.... a' richt, mister! ah can cairry them ma'sel'.... aye! weel! noo that ye menshun it, sur ... oon a mornin' like this.... ma respeks, gents!" there are no good-byes: the last has been said the night before. there could be no enthusiasm at four on a raw november's morning; it is best that i slip out quietly and take my seat, with a last look at the quiet street, the darkened windows, the quaint, familiar belfry of st. jude's. "a' richt, sur. g'up, mere! haud up, mere, ye!" at a corner of the square the night policeman, yawning whole-heartedly, peers into the cab to see who goes. there is nothing to investigate; the sea-chest, sailor-bag, and bedding, piled awkwardly on the 'dickey,' tell all he wants to know. "a sailor for aff!" jingling his keys, he thinks maybe of the many 'braw laads' from lochinver who go the same hard road. * * * * * down the deserted wind-swept streets we drive steadily on, till house lights glinting behind the blinds and hurrying figures of a 'night-shift' show that we are near the river and the docks. a turn along the waterside, the dim outlines of the ships and tracery of mast and spar looming large and fantastic in the darkness, and the driver, questioning, brings up at a dim-lit shed, bare of goods and cargo--the berth of a full-laden outward-bounder. my barque--the _florence_, of glasgow--lies in a corner of the dock, ready for sea. tugs are churning the muddy water alongside, getting into position to drag her from the quay wall; the lurid side-light gleams on a small knot of well-wishers gathered at the forward gangway exchanging parting words with the local seamen of our crew. i have cut my time but short. "come en there, you!" is my greeting from the harassed chief mate. "are you turned a ---- passenger, with your gloves and overcoat? you sh'd have been here an hour ago! get a move on ye, now, and bear a hand with these warps.... gad! a drunken crew an' skulkin' 'prentices, an' th' old man growlin' like a bear with a sore----" grumbling loudly, he goes forward, leaving me the minute for 'good-bye,' the late 'remembers,' the last long hand-grip. into the half-deck, to change hurriedly into working clothes. time enough to note the guttering lamp, evil smell, the dismal aspect of my home afloat--then, on deck again, to haul, viciously despondent, at the cast-off mooring ropes. forward the crew--drunk to a man--are giving the chief mate trouble, and it is only when the gangway is hauled ashore that anything can be done. the cook, lying as he fell over his sailor bag, sings, "_'t wis ye'r vice, ma gen-tul merry!_" in as many keys as there are points in the compass, drunkenly indifferent to the farewells of a sad-faced woman, standing on the quayside with a baby in her arms. riot and disorder is the way of things; the mates, out of temper with the muddlers at the ropes, are swearing, pushing, coaxing--to some attempt at getting the ship unmoored. double work for the sober ones, and for thanks--a muttered curse. small wonder that men go drunk to the sea: the wonder is that any go sober! at starting there is a delay. some of the men have slipped ashore for a last pull at a neighbourly 'hauf-mutchkin,' and at a muster four are missing. for a time we hold on at single moorings, the stern tug blowing a 'hurry-up' blast on her siren, the captain and a river pilot stamping on the poop, angrily impatient. one rejoins, drunken and defiant, but of the others there is no sign. we can wait no longer. "let go, aft!" shouts the captain. "let go, an' haul in. damn them for worthless sodjers, anyway! mister"--to a waiting board of trade official--"send them t' greenock, if ye can run them in. if not, telephone down that we're three a.b.'s short.... lie up t' th' norr'ard, stern tug, there. hard a-port, mister? all right! let go all, forr'ard!" ... we swing into the dock passage, from whence the figures of our friends on the misty quayside are faintly visible. the little crowd raises a weakly cheer, and one bold spirit (with his guid-brither's 'hauf-pey note' in his pocket) shouts a bar or two of "wull ye no' come back again!" a few muttered farewells, and the shore folk hurry down between the wagons to exchange a last parting word at the kelvinhaugh. '_... dong ... ding ... dong ... dong...._' set to a fanfare of steam whistles, old brazen tongue of gilmorehill tolls us benison as we steer between the pierheads. six sonorous strokes, loud above the shrilling of workshop signals and the nearer merry jangle of the engine-house chimes. workmen, hurrying to their jobs, curse us for robbing them of a 'quarter,' the swing-bridge being open to let us through. "come oon! hurry up wi' that auld 'jeely-dish,' an' see's a chance tae get tae wur wark," they shout in a chorus of just irritation. a facetious member of our crew shouts: "wot--oh, old stiy-at-'omes. cahmin' aat t' get wandered?"--and a dockman answers: "hello, jake, 'i ye therr? man, th' sailormen maun a' be deid when th' mate gied you a sicht! jist you wait tae he catches ye fanklin' th' cro'-jeck sheets!" we swing slowly between the pierheads, and the workmen, humoured by the dockman's jest, give us a hoarse cheer as they scurry across the still moving bridge. in time-honoured fashion our cockney humorist calls for, 'three cheers f'r ol' pier-'ead, boys,' and such of the 'boys' as are able chant a feeble echo to his shout. the tugs straighten us up in the river, and we breast the flood cautiously, for the mist has not yet cleared and the coasting skippers are taking risks to get to their berths before the stevedores have picked their men. in the shipyards workmen are beginning their day's toil, the lowe of their flares light up the gaunt structures of ships to be. sharp at the last wailing note of the whistle, the din of strenuous work begins, and we are fittingly drummed down the reaches to a merry tune of clanging hammers--the shipyard chorus "let glasgow flourish!" dawn finds us off bowling, and as the fog clears gives us misty views of the kilpatrick hills. ahead, dumbarton rock looms up, gaunt and misty, sentinel o'er the lesser heights. south, the renfrew shore stretches broadly out under the brightening sky--the wooded elderslie slopes and distant hills, and, nearer, the shoal ground behind the lang dyke where screaming gulls circle and wheel. the setting out is none so ill now, with god's good daylight broad over all, and the flags flying--the 'blue peter' fluttering its message at the fore. on the poop, the captain (the 'old man,' be he twenty-one or fifty) paces to and fro--a short sailor walk, with a pause now and then to mark the steering or pass a word with the river pilot. of medium height, though broad to the point of ungainliness, old jock leish (in his ill-fitting broadcloth shore-clothes) might have passed for a prosperous farmer, but it needed only a glance at the keen grey eyes peering from beneath bushy eyebrows, the determined set of a square lower jaw, to note a man of action, accustomed to command. a quick, alert turn of the head, the lift of shoulders as he walked--arms swinging in seaman-like balance--and the trick of pausing at a windward turn to glance at the weather sky, marked the sailing shipmaster--the man to whom thought and action must be as one. pausing at the binnacle to note the direction of the wind, he gives an exclamation of disgust. "a 'dead muzzler,' pilot. no sign o' a slant in the trend o' th' upper clouds. sou'west, outside, i'm afraid.... mebbe it's just as weel; we'll have t' bring up at th' tail o' th' bank, anyway, for these three hands, damn them.... an' th' rest are useless.... drunk t' a man, th' mate says. god! they'd better sober up soon, or we'll have to try 'yankee music' t' get things shipshape!" the pilot laughed. "i thought the 'yankee touch' was done with at sea now," he said. "merchant shippin' act, and that sort of thing, captain?" "goad, no! it's no bye wi' yet, an' never will be as long as work has to be done at sea. i never was much taken with it myself, but, damn it, ye've got to sail the ship, and ye can't do it without hands. oh, a little of it at the setting off does no harm--they forget all about it before long; but at the end of a voyage, when ye're getting near port, it's not very wise. no, not very wise--an' besides, you don't need it!" the pilot grins again, thinking maybe of his own experiences, before he 'swallowed part of the anchor,' and old jock returns to his walk. overhead the masts and spars are black with the grime of a 'voyage' in glasgow harbour, and 'irish pennants' fluttering wildly on spar and rigging tell of the scamped work of those whose names are not on our 'articles.' sternly superintended (now that the mate has given up all hope of getting work out of the men), we elder boys are held aloft, reeving running gear through the leads in the maintop. on the deck below the new apprentices gaze in open-mouthed admiration at our deeds: they wonder why the mate should think such clever fellows laggard, why he should curse us for clumsy 'sodgers,' as a long length of rope goes (wrongly led) through the top. in a few months more they themselves will be criticising the 'hoodlums,' and discussing the wisdom of the 'old man' in standing so far to the south'ard. fog comes dense on us at port glasgow, and incoming steamers, looming large on the narrowed horizon, steer sharply to the south to give us water. enveloped in the driving wraiths we hear the deep notes of moving vessels, the clatter of bells on ships at anchor, and farther down, loud over all, the siren at the cloch, bellowing a warning of thick weather beyond the point. sheering cautiously out of the fairway, we come to anchor at tail of the bank to wait for our 'pier-head jumps.' at four in the afternoon, a launch comes off with our recruits and our whipper-in explains his apparent delay. "hilt nor hair o' th' men that left ye hae i seen. i thocht i'd fin' them at 'dirty dick's' when th' pubs opened ... but no, no' a sign: an' a wheen tailor buddies wha cashed their advance notes huntin' high an' low! i seen yin o' them ower by m'lean street wi' a nicht polis wi 'm t' see he didna get a heid pit on 'm!--'_sss_! a pant! so i cam' doon here, an' i hiv been lookin' for sailormen sin' ten o'clock. man, they'll no' gang in thae wind-jammers, wi' sae mony new steamers speirin' hauns, an' new boats giein' twa ten fur th' run tae london.... thir's th' only yins i can get, an' ye wadna get them, but that twa's feart o' th' polis an' jorgensen wants t' see th' month's advance o' th' lang yin!" the captain eyes the men and demands of one: "been to sea before?" "_nach robh mhi_? twa years i wass a 'bow rope' in the _i-on-a_, an' i wass a wheelhouse in the allan line." a glance at his discharges confirms his claim, slight as it is, to seamanship, and duncan m'innes, of sleat, in skye, after being cautioned as to his obligations, signs his name and goes forward. patrick laughlin has considerable difficulty in explaining his absence from the sea for two years, but the captain, after listening to a long, rambling statement... "i' th' yairds ... riggin' planks fur th' rivitter boys.... guid-brither a gaffer in hamilton's, at the 'poort' ... shoart time" ... gives a quick glance at the alleged seaman's cropped head and winks solemnly at the shipping-master, who is signing the men on. hands being so scarce, however, patrick is allowed to touch the pen. one glance at the third suffices. blue eyes and light colourless hair, high cheek-bones and lithe limbs, mark the scandinavian. strong, wiry fingers and an indescribable something proclaim the sailor, and though von shmit can hardly say 'yes' in english, he looks the most likely man of the three. the shipping-master, having concluded his business, steps aboard his launch, leaving us with a full crew, to wait the weather clearing, and the fair wind that would lift us down channel. * * * * * daybreak next morning shows promise of better weather, and a light s.s.e. wind with a comparatively clear sky decides the old man to take the north channel for it. as soon as there is light enough to mark their colours, a string of flags brings off our tug-boat from princes pier, and we start to heave up the anchor. a stout coloured man sets up a 'chantey' in a very creditable baritone, and the crew, sobered now by the snell morning air, give sheet to the chorus. '_blow, boy-s, blow,--for califor-ny, oh!_ _for there's lot's of gold, so i've been told,_ _on the banks--of sa-cramen-to!_' the towing-hawser is passed aboard, and the tug takes the weight off the cable. the nigger having reeled off all he knows of 'californy,' a dutchman sings lustily of 'sally brown.' soon the mate reports, "anchor's short, sir," and gets the order to weigh. a few more powerful heaves with the seaman-like poise between each--"_spent my mo-ney on sa-lley brown!_"--and the shout comes, "anchor's a-weigh!" down comes the blue peter from the fore, whipping at shroud and backstay in quick descent--our barque rides ground-free, the voyage begun! the light is broad over all now, and the highland hills loom dark and misty to the norr'ard. with a catch at the heart, we pass the well-known places, slowly making way, as if the flood-tide were striving still to hold us in our native waters. a customs boat hails, and asks of us, "whither bound?" "'frisco away!" we shout, and they wave us a brief god-speed. rounding the cloch, we meet the coasting steamers scurrying up the firth. "'ow'd ye like t' be a stiy-at-'ome, splashin' abaht in ten fathoms, like them blokes, eh?" the cockney asks me, with a deep-water man's contempt in his tone. how indeed? yearning eyes follow their glistening stern-wash as they speed past, hot-foot for the river berths. tide has made now. a short period of slack water, and the ebb bears us seaward, past the cowal shore, glinting in the wintry sunlight, the blue smoke in dunoon valley curling upward to kilbride hill, past skelmorlie buoy (tolling a doleful benediction), past rothesay bay, with the misty kyles beyond. the garroch head, with a cluster of clyde trust hoppers, glides abaft the beam, and the blue cock o' arran shows up across the opening water. all is haste and bustle. aloft, spider-like figures, black against the tracery of the rigging, cast down sheets and clew lines in the one place where they must go. shouts and hails--"fore cross-trees, there! royal buntline inside th' crin'line, _in_-side, damn ye!" "aye, aye! stan' fr' under!" ..._rrup_! a coil of rope hurtling from a height comes rattling to the rail, to be secured to its own particular belaying-pin. out of a seeming chaos comes order. every rope has its name and its place and its purpose; and though we have 'sodjers' among us, before arran is astern we are ready to take to the wind. off pladda we set staysails and steer to the westward, and, when the wind allows, hoist topsails and crowd the canvas on her. the short november day has run its course when we cast off the tow-rope. as we pass the standing tug, all her hands are hauling the hawser aboard. soon she comes tearing in our wake to take our last letters ashore and to receive the captain's 'blessing.' a heaving-line is thrown aboard, and into a small oilskin bag are put our hastily written messages and the captain's material 'blessing.' shades of romance! our last link with civilisation severed by a bottle of hennessy's three star! the tugmen (after satisfying themselves as to the contents of the bag) give us a cheer and a few parting 'skreichs' on their siren and, turning quickly, make off to a norwegian barque, lying-to, off ailsa craig. all hands, under the mates, are hard driven, sweating on sheet and halyard to make the most of the light breeze. at the wheel i have little to do; she is steering easily, asking no more than a spoke or two, when the atlantic swell, running under, lifts her to the wind. ahead of us a few trawlers are standing out to the skerryvore banks. broad to the north, the rugged, mist-capped mull of cantyre looms up across the heaving water. the breeze is steady, but a falling barometer tells of wind or mist ere morning. darkness falls, and coast lights show up in all airts. forward, all hands are putting a last drag on the topsail halyards, and the voice of the nigger tells of the fortunes of-- '_renzo--boys, renzo!_' ii steersmanship wee laughlin, dismissed from the wheel for bad steering, was sitting on the fore-hatch, a figure of truculence and discontent, mouthing a statement on the rights of man, accompanied by every oath ever heard on clydeside from caird's to tommy seath's at ru'glen. it was not the loss of his turn that he regretted--he was better here, where he could squirt tobacco juice at will, than on the poop under the mate's eye--but, hardened at the 'poort' as he was, he could not but feel the curious glances of his watchmates, lounging about in dog-watch freedom and making no secret of their contempt of an able seaman who couldn't steer, to begin with. "'ow wos she 'eadin', young feller, w'en ye--left?" cockney hicks, glancing away from the culprit, was looking at the trembling leaches of top'gal'nsails, sign of head winds. "'er heid? ach, aboot nor' thurty west!" "nor' thirty west? blimy! where th' 'ell's that? 'ere! give us it in points! none o' yer bloomin' degrees aboard square-sail, young feller!" "weel, that's a' th' wye i ken it!" sullen, mouth twisted askew in the correct mode of the 'poort,' defiant. "it wis aye degrees in a' th' boats i hiv been in--none o' thae wee black chats ye ca' p'ints; we niver heeded thim. degrees, an' 'poort' an' 'starboord '--t' hell wit' yer 'luffs' an' 'nae highers'!" "blimy!" "aye, blimy! an' i cud steer them as nate's ye like; but i'm no guid enough fur that swine o' a mate, aft there!" he spat viciously. "'nae higher,' sez he t' me. 'nae higher, sur,' says i, pitten' the wheel a bit doon. 'up,' says he, 'up, blast ye! ye're lettin 'r come up i' th' win',' says he. i pit th' ---- wheel up, keepin' ma 'ee on th' compass caird; but that wis a fau't tae.... 'damn ye!' says he; 'keep yer 'ee on th' to'gallan' leaches,' ... 'whaur's that?' sez i. 'oh, holy smoke!' sez he. 'whit hiv we got here?' an' he cam' ower and hut me a kick, an' shouts fur anither haun' t' th' wheel! ... by ----" mumbling a vicious formula, eyes darkening angrily as he looked aft at the misty figure on the poop. cockney looked at him curiously. "wot boats 'ave ye bin in, anyway?" he said. "them boats wot ye never steered by th' win' before?" "---- fine boats! a ban' sicht better nor this bluidy ould wreck. boats wi' a guid gaun screw at th' stern av thim! steamers, av coorse! this is th' furst bluidy win'-jammer i hae been in, an' by ---- it'll be th' last! an' that mate! him! ... oh! if i only hid 'm in rue-en' street ... wi' ma crood aboot,"--kicking savagely at a coil of rope--"he widna be sae smert wi' 'is fit! goad, no!" "ye' fust win'-jammer, eh?" said cockney pleasantly. "oh well--ye'll l'arn a lot! blimy, ye'll l'arn a lot before ye sees rue-hend street again. an' look 'ere!"--as if it were a small matter--"if ye cawn't steer th' bloomin' ship afore we clears th' bloomin' channel, ye kin count _hon_ me fer a bloomin' good 'idin'! i ain't agoin' t' take no other bloomin' bloke's w'eel! not much, i ain't!" "nor me!" "nor me!" said the others, and wee laughlin, looking round at the ring of threatening faces, realised that he was up against a greater power than the officer tramping the poop beyond. "wull ye no'?" he said, spitting with a great show of bravery. "wull ye no'? mebbe i'll hae sumthin' t' say aboot th' hidin'.... an' ye'll hae twa av us tae hide whin ye're a' it. i'm nut th' only yin. there's the hielan'man ... him wi' th' fush scales on's oilskins. he nivvir wis in a win'-jammer afore, he telt me; an'----" "an' whaat eef i nefer wass in a win'-chammer pefore?" m'innes, quick to anger, added another lowering face to the group. "wait you till i am sent awaay from th' wheel ... an' thaat iss not yet, no! ... hielan'man? ... hielan'man? ... tamm you, i wass steerin' by th' win' pefore you wass porn, aye! ... an' aal t' time you wass in chail, yess!" in the face of further enmity, wee laughlin said no more, preferring to gaze darkly at the unknowing mate, while his lips made strange formations--excess of thought! the others, with a few further threats--a word or two about 'hoodlums' and 'them wot signed for a man's wage, an' couldn't do a man's work'--returned to their short dog-watch pacings, two and two, talking together of former voyages and the way of things on their last ships. we were in the north channel, one day out, with the mull of cantyre just lost to view. the light wind that had carried us out to the firth had worked to the westward, to rain and misty weather, and all day we had been working ship in sight of the irish coast, making little headway against the wind. it was dreary work, this laggard setting out--hanging about the land, tack and tack, instead of trimming yards to a run down channel. out on the open sea we could perforce be philosophic, and talk of 'the more days, the more dollars'; but here in crowded waters, with the high crown of innistrahull mocking at our efforts, it was difficult not to think of the goodness of a shore life. as the close of each watch came round the same spirit of discontent prompted the question of the relief, officer or man. on the poop it was, "well, mister! how's her head now? any sign of a slant?" on the foredeck, "'ere! wot th' 'ell 'ave ye bin doin' with 'er? got th' bloomin' anchor down or wot?" at nightfall the rain came down heavily before fitful bursts of chill wind. ours was the first watch, and tramping the deck in stiff, new oilskins, we grumbled loudly at the ill-luck that kept us marking time. "i wonder w'y th' old man don't put abaht an' run dahn th' gawges channel. wot's 'e 'angin' abaht 'ere for, hanyw'y? wot does 'e expeck?" said cockney, himself a 'navigator'--by his way of it. "oh, shift o' wind, or something," said i. "i was aft at th' binnacles an' heard him talkin' t' th' mate about it. says th' wind 'll back t' th' south'ard if th' barometer don't rise. told the mate to call him if the glass went up before twelve. i see old 'steady-all'" (we are one day out, but all properly named) "popping up and down the cabin stairs. he'll be building a reef of burnt matches round the barometers before that fair wind comes." "sout' vass fair vind, ass ve goes now, aind't id?" asked dutch john, a pleasant-faced north german. "fair wind? 'oo th' 'ell's talkin' 'bout fair win's, an' that shmit at th' w'eel? 'ow d'ye expeck a fair win' with a finn--a bloody rooshian finn's a-steerin' ov 'er?" martin, a tough old sea-dog, with years of service, claimed a hearing. "no, an' we won't 'ave no fair win' till a lucky steers 'er! ain't much that way myself--me bein' a liverpool man--but there's collins there--the nigger.... niggers is lucky, an' west-country-men, an' south of ireland men--if they ain't got black 'air--but finns! finns is the wu'st o' bloody bad luck! ... knowed a finn onst wot raised an 'owlin' gale agin us, just a-cos th' ol' man called 'im a cross-eyed son ef a gun fur breakin' th' p'int ov a marlinspike! raised an 'owlin' gale, 'e did! no, no! ye won't 'ave no fair win' till a lucky man goes aft. 'ere, collins! your nex' w'eel, ain't it?" collins grinned an affirmative. "right-o! well, young fellers, ye kin spit on yer 'an's fur squarin' them yards somewheres between four an' eight bells. nuthin' like a nigger for bringin' fair win's.... an' 'e's a speshul kind o' nigger, too.... nova scotiaman, pictou way ... talks the same lingo as th' 'ilandman ... 'im on th' look-out, there." "not the gaelic, surely?" said i. "aye, gaelic. that's it. they speak that lingo out there, black an' w'ite. knowed lots o' niggers wot spoke it ... an' chows too!" i turned to collins--a broad, black nigger with thick lips, woolly hair, white, gleaming teeth--the type! he grinned. "oh yass," he said. "dat's ri'! dey speak de gaelic dere--dem bluenose scotchmen, an' ah larn it when ah wass small boy. ah doan' know much now ... forgot it mos' ... but ah know 'nuff t' ask dat boy munro how de wass. _hoo! ho!! hoo!!!_ 'cia mar tha thu nis,' ah says, an' he got so fright', he doan' be seasick no mo'!" a wondrous cure! at ten collins relieved the wheel and we looked for the shift that old martin had promised, but there was no sign of it--no lift to the misty horizon, no lessening in the strength of the squalls, now heavy with a smashing of bitter sleet. bunched up against the helm, a mass of oilskins glistening in the compass light, our 'lucky man' scarce seemed to be doing anything but cower from the weather. only the great eyes of him, peering aloft from under the peak of his sou'wester, showed that the man was awake; and the ready turns of the helm, that brought a steering tremor to the weather leaches, marked him a cunning steersman, whichever way his luck lay. six bells struck, the mate stepped below to the barometers, and a gruff "up! up!" (his way of a whisper) accompanied the tapping of the aneroid. there he found encouragement and soon had the old man on deck, peering with him in the wind's eye at the brightening glare of innistrahull light out in the west. "clearing, eh? and the glass risin'," said the old man. "looks like nor'-west! round she goes, mister: we'll lose no more time. stan' by t' wear ship!" "aye, aye, sir! stan' by t' square mainyards, the watch, there!" shouting as he left the poop, the mate mustered his men at the braces. "square mainyards! that's th' talk," said old martin, throwing the coils down with a swing. "didn't ah tell ye it wos a nigger as'd bring a fair win'!" "but it ain't fair yet," said i. "wind's west as ever it was; only th' old man's made up his mind t' run her down th' george's channel. might ha' done that four hours ago!" "wot's th' use o' talkin' like that? 'ow th' 'ell could 'e make up 'is min' wi' a rooshian finn at th' w'eel, eh? don't tell me! ah knows as niggers is lucky an' finns ain't; an' don't ye give me none o' yer bloody sass, young feller, cos ..." ("haul away mainyards, there!") ... "_ho! ... io ... io...._ ho! round 'em in, me sons. ... _ho! ... io ... io...._ twenty days t' th' line, boys! ... _ho ... io ... ho!_" a hard case, martin! turning on heel, we left innistrahull to fade away on the quarter, and, under the freshening breeze, made gallant steering for the nigger. this was more like the proper way to go to sea, and when eight bells clanged we called the other watch with a rousing shout. "out, ye bloomin' jonahs! turn out, and see what the port watch can do for ye. a fair wind down channel, boys! come on! turn out, ye hungry jonahs, and coil down for your betters!" * * * * * after two days of keen sailing, running through the channel traffic, we reached the edge of soundings. the nor'-west breeze still held, though blowing light, and under a spread of canvas we were leaning away to the south'ard on a course for the line crossing. we sighted a large steamer coming in from the west, and the old man, glad of a chance to be reported, hauled up to 'speak' her. in hoists of gaily coloured bunting we told our name and destination, and a wisp of red and white at the liner's mast acknowledged our message. as she sped past she flew a cheering signal to wish us a 'pleasant voyage,' and then lowered her ensign to ours as a parting salute. "keep her off to her course again--sou'-west, half south!" ordered the old man when the last signal had been made. "aff tae her coorse ag'in, sur! sou'-west, hauf south, sur!" at sound of the steersman's answer i turned from my job at the signal locker. wee laughlin, eyes on the weather clew of the royals, was learning! iii the way of the half-deck the guttering lamp gave little light in the half-deck; its trimming had been neglected on this day of storm, so we sat in semi-gloom listening to the thunder of seas outside. on the grimy deal table lay the remains of our supper--crumbs of broken sea-biscuits, a scrap of greasy salt horse, dirty plates and pannikins, a fork stabbed into the deal to hold the lot from rolling, and an overturned hook-pot that rattled from side to side at each lurch of the ship, the dregs of the tea it had held dripping to the weltering floor. for once in a way we were miserably silent. we sat dourly together, as cheerless a quartette as ever passed watch below. "who wouldn't sell his farm and go to sea?" asked hansen, throwing off his damp jacket and boots and turning into his bunk. "'a life on th' ocean wave,' eh? egad! here's one who wishes he had learned to drive a wagon!" "and another," said eccles. "that--or selling matches on th' highway! ... come on, kid! get a move on ye and clear away! ... and mind ye jamm the gear off in the locker. no more o' these tricks like ye did in channel--emptyin' half the bloomin' whack into th' scupper! you jamm the gear off proper, or i'll lick ye!" young munro, the 'peggy' of our watch, swallowed hard and set about his bidding. his small features were pinched and drawn, and a ghastly pallor showed that a second attack of sea-sickness was not far off. he staggered over to the table and made a half-hearted attempt to put the gear away, "what's th' matter with ye?" said eccles roughly. "ye've been long enough away from ye'r mammy t' be able t' keep ye'r feet. a fortnight at sea, an' still comin' th' 'gentle annie'! you look sharp now, an' don't----" "eccles!" "eh?" "you let the kid alone," said hansen in a dreamy, half-sleepy tone. "you let the kid alone, or i'll twist your damn neck! time enough for you to start chinnin' when your elders are out o' sight. you shut up!" "oh, all right! ye needn't get ratty. if you want t' pamper the bloomin' kid, it's none of my business, i s'pose.... all the same, you took jolly good care i did _my_ 'peggy' last voyage! there was no pamperin' that i remember!" "different!" said hansen, still in the same sleepy tone. "different! you were always big enough an' ugly enough t' stand the racket. you leave the kid alone!" eccles turned away to his bunk and, seeking his pipe, struck match after match in a vain attempt to light the damp tobacco. now and then the ship would falter in her swing--an ominous moment of silence and steadiness--before the shock of a big sea sent her reeling again. the crazy old half-deck rocked and groaned at the battery as the sea ran aft, and a spurt of green water came from under the covering board. some of the sea-chests worked out of the lashings and rattled down to leeward. eccles and i triced them up, then stowed the supper gear in the locker. "a few more big 'uns like that," said i, "and this rotten old house 'll go a-voyagin'! ... wonder it has stood so long." "do ye think there's danger?" asked the kid, in a falter, and turning terrified eyes on one after another. "course," said hansen--we had thought him asleep--"course there is! that's what ye came here for, isn't it? this is when th' hero stands on th' weather taffrail, graspin' th' tautened backst'y an' hurlin' defiance at th' mighty elements--'nick carter,' chap. one!" eccles and i grinned. munro took heart. "danger," still the drowsy tone, "i should think there is! why, any one o' these seas might sweep the harness-cask and t'morrow's dinner overboard! any one of 'em might----" the door swung to with a crash, a blast of chill wind and rain blew in on us, the lamp flickered and flared, a dripping oilskin-clad figure clambered over the washboard. "door! door!" we yelled as he fumbled awkwardly with the handle. "oh, shut up! ye'd think it was the swing-door of a pub. t' hear ye shouting!" he pulled heavily, and the broken-hinged baulk slammed into place. it was jones, of the other watch, come in to turn us out. "well, i'm hanged!" he looked around the house--at the litter on the floor, at the spurting water that lashed across with the lurch of her. "why don't some of ye bale the place out 'stead of standing by t' shout 'door, door!' when there's no need? damn! look at that!" she lurched again. a foot or more of broken water dashed from side to side, carrying odds of loose gear with it. "egad! the port watch for lazy sojers--every time! why don't ye turn to an' dry the half-deck out? oh no; not your way! it's 'damn you, jack--i'm all right!' with you chaps. goin' on deck again soon, eh? why should ye dry up for the other watch, eh? ... oh! all right. just you----" "oh, dry up yourself, jones!" hansen sat up in his bunk and turned his legs out. "what you making all the noise about? we've been balin' and balin', and it's no use! no use at all ... with that covering board working loose and the planks opening out at every roll.... what's up, anyway? ... all hands, eh?" "yes. 'all hands wear ship' at eight bells! we've just set the fore lower tops'l. think we must be getting near the western islands by the way th' old man's poppin' up and down. it's pipin' outside! blowin' harder than ever, and that last big sea stove in the weather side of the galley. the watch are at it now, planking up and that.... well, i'm off! ye've quarter an hour t' get your gear on. lively, now! ..." at the door he turned, eyeing the floor, now awash. "look here, young 'un"--to poor, woebegone munro--"the mate says you're not to come on deck. you stay here and bale up, an' if the damn place isn't dry when we come below i'll hide the life out o' ye! ... oh, it's no use screwin' your face up. 'cry baby' business is no good aboard a packet! you buck up an' bale the house ... or ... look out!" he heaved at the door, sprawled over, and floundered out into the black night. munro turned a white, despairing face on us elders. we had no support for him. hansen was fumbling with his belt. i was drawing on my long boots. both of us seemed not to have heard. this was the way of the half-deck. with eccles it had been different. he was only a second voyager, a dog-watch at sea--almost a 'greenhorn.' there was time enough for him to 'chew the rag' when he had got the length of keeping a regular 'wheel and look out.' besides, it was a 'breach' for him to start bossing about when there were two of his elders in the house. we could fix him all right! ah! but jones! ... it was not that we were afraid of him. either of us would have plugged him one at the word 'go!' if it had been a straight affair between us. but this was no business of ours. jones was almost a man. in a month or two his time would be out. there could be no interference, not a word could be said; it was--the way of the half-deck. swaying, sailor-like, on the reeling deck, we drew on our oilskins and sea-boots, buckled our belts, tied down the flaps of our sou'westers, and made ready. while we were at it munro started on his task. he filled the big bucket, dragged it half-way to the door, then sat down heavily with a low cry of dismay. "what's the matter, kid, eh?" said hansen kindly. "got the blues, eh? buck up, man! blue's a rotten colour aboard ship! here, hand me the bucket!" he gripped the handle, stood listening for a chance, then swung the door out an inch or two, and tipped the bucket. "it ... it's ... not ... that," said the youngster. "it's ... s-s-staying in here w-when you fellows are on d-deck! ... ye ... s-said th' house m-might go ... any time! ... let me come!..." "no, no! th' mate said you weren't t' come on deck! you stay here! you'd only be in th' way! you'll be all right here; the rotten old box 'll stand a few gales yet! ... what's that?" above the shrilling of the gale we heard the mate's bull roar: "all ... hands ... wear ... ship!" we took our chance, swung the door to, and dashed out. dismayed for a moment--the sudden change from light to utter darkness--we brought up, grasping the life-lines in the waist, and swaying to meet the wild lurches of the ship. as our eyes sobered to the murk we saw the lift of the huge seas that thundered down the wind. no glint of moon or star broke through the mass of driving cloud that blackened the sky to windward; only when the gleam of a breaking crest spread out could we mark the depth to which we drove, or the height when we topped a wall of foaming water. the old barque was labouring heavily, reeling to it, the decks awash to our knees. only the lower tops'ls and a stays'l were set; small canvas, but spread enough to keep her head at the right angle as wave after wave swept under or all but over her. "stations!" we heard the mate calling from his post at the lee fore braces. "lay along here! port watch, forrard!" we floundered through the swirl of water that brimmed the decks and took our places. aft, we could see the other watch standing by at the main. good! it would be a quick job, soon over! the old man was at the weather gangway, conning the ship and waiting for a chance. below him, all hands stood at his orders--twenty-three lives were in his keeping at the moment; but there was no thought of that--we knew our old jock, we boasted of his sea cunning. at length the chance came; a patch of lesser violence after a big sea had been met and surmounted. the sure, steady eye marked the next heavy roller. there was time and distance! ... "helm up, there!" (old jock for a voice!) now her head paid off, and the order was given, 'square mainyards!' someone wailed a hauling cry and the great yards swung round, tops'l lifting to the quartering wind. as the wind drew aft she gathered weight and scudded before the gale. seas raced up and crashed their bulk at us when, at the word, we strained together to drag the foreyards from the backstays. now she rolled the rails under--green, solid seas to each staggering lift. at times it seemed as if we were all swept overboard there was no hold to the feet! we stamped and floundered to find a solid place to brace our feet and knees against; trailed out on the ropes--all afloat--when she scooped the ocean up, yet stood and hauled when the chance was ours. a back roll would come. "hold all! ... stand to it, sons! ..." with a jerk that seemed to tear at the limbs of us, the heavy yards would weigh against us. there was no pulling ... only "stand and hold" ... "hold hard." then, to us again: "hay ... o ... ho.... hay ... o! ... round 'em in, boys! ..." quick work, hand over hand, the blocks rattling cheerily as we ran in the slack. "vast haulin' foreyards! turn all and lay aft!" we belayed the ropes, and struggled aft to where the weaker watch were hauling manfully. the sea was now on the other quarter, and lashing over the top rail with great fury. twice the second mate, who was 'tending the weather braces, was washed down among us, still holding by the ropes. "haul awaay, lauds!" he would roar as he struggled back to his perilous post. "haul, you!" we dragged the yards to a new tack; then to the fore, where again we stood the buffet till we had the ship in trim for heaving-to. "all hands off the deck!" roared the mate when the headyards were steadied. "lay aft, all hands!" drenched and arm weary as we were, there was no tardiness in our scramble for safe quarters--some to the poop, some to the main rigging. we knew what would come when she rounded-to in a sea like that. "all ready, sir," said the mate when he came aft to report. "all hands are off the deck!" "aye, aye!" old jock was peering out to windward, watching keenly for a chance to put his helm down. there was a perceptible lull in the wind, but the sea was high as ever. the heavy, racing clouds had broken in the zenith; there were rifts here and there through which shone fleeting gleams from the moon, lighting the furious ocean for a moment, then vanishing as the storm-wrack swept over. it seemed a long time before the old man saw the 'smooth' he was waiting for. a succession of big seas raced up, broke, and poured aboard: one, higher than all, swept by, sending her reeling to the trough. now--the chance! "ease th' helm down!" he shouted. "stand by, all!" her head swung steadily to windward, the steering way was well timed. suddenly, as we on the poop watched ahead, a gleam of light shone on the wet decks. the half-deck door was swung out--a figure blocked the light, sprawling over the washboard--munro! "back!" we yelled. "go back!" there was time enough, but the youngster, confused by the shouts, ran forward, then aft, bewildered. the ship was bearing up to the wind and sea. already her head was driving down before the coming of the wave that was to check her way. in a moment it would be over us. the mate leapt to the ladder, but, as he balanced, we saw one of the men in the main rigging slide down a backstay, drop heavily on deck, recover, and dash on towards the boy. broad on the beam of her, the sea tore at us and brimmed the decks--a white-lashing fury of a sea, that swept fore and aft, then frothed in a whelming torrent to leeward. when we got forward through the wash of it, we found jones crouching under the weather rail. one arm was jammed round the bulwark stanchion, the wrist stiffened and torn by the wrench, the other held the kid--a limp, unconscious figure. "carry him aft," said jones. "i think ... he's ... all right ... only half drowned!" he swayed as he spoke, holding his hand to his head, gasping, and spitting out. "d-damn young swine! what ... he ... w-want t' come on deck f-for? t-told ... him t' ... s-stay below!" iv the 'dead horse' fine weather, if hot as the breath of hades, and the last dying airs of the nor'-east trades drifting us to the south'ard at a leisured three knots. from the first streak of daylight we had been hard at work finishing up the general overhaul cf gear and rigging that can only be done in the steady trade winds. now it was over; we could step out aloft, sure of our foothold; all the treacherous ropes were safe in keeping of the 'shakin's cask,' and every block and runner was working smoothly, in readiness for the shifting winds of the doldrums that would soon be with us. the work done, bucket and spar were manned and, for the fourth time that day, the sun-scorched planks and gaping seams of the deck were sluiced down--a job at which we lingered, splashing the limpid water as fast the wetted planks steamed and dried again. a grateful coolness came with the westing of the tyrant sun, and when our miserable evening meal had been hurried through we sought the deck again, to sit under the cool draught of the foresail watching the brazen glow that attended the sun's setting, the glassy patches of windless sea, the faint ripples that now and then swept over the calm--the dying breath of a stout breeze that had lifted us from ° north. what talk there was among us concerned our voyage, a never-failing topic; and old martin, to set the speakers right, had brought his 'log'--a slender yardstick--from the forecastle. "... ty-seven ... ty-eight ... twenty-nine," he said, counting a row of notches. "thirty days hout t'morrer, an' th' 'dead 'orse' is hup t' day, sons!" "'dead 'oss' hup t' dye? 'ow d'ye mike that aht?" said 'cockney' hicks, a man of importance, now promoted to bo'sun. "fust sunday we wos in channel, runnin' dahn th' irish lights, worn't it?" "aye!" "secon' sunday we wos routin' abaht in them strong southerly win's, hoff th' weste'n isles?" "that's so," said martin, patting his yard-stick, "right-o!" "third sunday we 'ad th' trides, runnin' south; lawst sunday wos fourth sunday hout, an' this 'ere's friday--'peasoup-dye,' ain't it? 'ow d'ye mike a month o' that? 'dead 'oss' ain't up till t'morrer, i reckon!" "well, ye reckons wrong, bo'sun! ye ain't a-countin' of th' day wot we lay at anchor at th' tail o' th' bank!" "blimy, no! i'd forgotten that dye!" "no! an' i tell ye th' 'dead 'orse' is hup, right enuff. i don't make no mistake in my log.... look at 'ere," pointing to a cross-cut at the head of his stick. "that's the dye wot we lay at anchor--w'en you an' me an' the rest ov us wos proper drunk. 'ere we starts away," turning to another side; "them up strokes is 'ead win's, an' them downs is fair; 'ere's where we got that blow hoff th' weste'n isles," putting his finger-nail into a deep cleft; "that time we carries away th' topmas' stays'l sheet; an' 'ere's th' trade win's wot we're 'avin' now! ... all k'rect, i tell ye. ain't no mistakes 'ere, sons!" he put the stick aside the better to fill his pipe. "vat yo' calls dem holes in de top, martin, _zoone_? dot vass sometings, aind't id?" vootgert, the belgian, picked the stick up, turning it over carelessly. martin snatched it away. "a course it's 'sometings,' ye flemish 'og! if ye wants to know pertiklar, them 'oles is two p'un' o' tebaccer wot i had sence i come aboard. don't allow no ol' man t' do _me_ in the bloomin' hye w'en it comes t' tottin' th' bill! ... i'll watch it! i keeps a good tally ov wot i gets, tho' i can't read nor write like them young 'know-alls' over there" (martin had no love for 'brassbounders'), "them wot orter be aft in their proper place, an' not sittin' 'ere, chinnin' wi' th' sailormen!" "who's chinnin'?" said jones, martin's particular enemy. "ain't said a word! not but what i wanted to ... sittin' here, listenin' to a lot of bally rot about ye'r dead horses an' logs an' that!" jones rose with a great pantomime of disgust (directed especially at the old man), and went aft, leaving munro and me to weather martin's rage. "oh, shut up, martin!" said the bo'sun. "they ain't doin' no 'arm! boys is boys!" "ho no, they ain't, bo'sun: not in this ship, they ain't. boys is men, an' men's old beggars, 'ere! i don't 'old wi' them a-comin' forrard 'ere at awl! a place fer everything, an' everybody 'as 'is place, i says! captin' on the bloomin' poop o' her, an' cook t' th' foresheet! that's shipshape an' bristol fashion, ain't it?" "that's so, that's so! ... but them young 'uns is 'ere for hin-for-mashun, eh?" martin grumbled loudly and turned to counting his notches. "know-alls! that's wot _they_ is--ruddy know-alls! told me i didn't know wot a fair win' wos!" he muttered as he fingered his 'log.' "'dead 'oss?'" said the bo'sun, turning to munro. "'dead 'oss' is th' fust month out, w'en ye're workin' for ye'r boardin'-mawster. 'e gets ye'r month's advawnce w'en ye sails, an' ye've got to work that hoff afore ye earns any pay!" "who vass ride your 'dead 'oss,' martin?" asked the belgian when quiet was restored. "oh, jemmy grant; 'im wot 'as an 'ouse in springfield lane. come in t' th' clyde in th' _loch ness_ from melb'un--heighty-five days, an' a damn good passage too, an' twel' poun' ten of a pay day! dunno' 'ow it went.... spent it awl in four or five days. i put up at jemmy grant's for a week 'r two arter th' money was gone, an' 'e guv' me five bob an' a new suit of oilskins out 'er my month's advawnce on this 'ere 'ooker!" "indeed to goodness, now! that iss not pad at all, indeed," said john lewis, our brawny welshman. "i came home in th' _wanderer_, o' st. johnss, an' wass paid off with thirty-fife poun'ss, i tell 'oo. i stayed in owen evanss' house in great clyde street, an' when i went there i give him ten poun'ss t' keep for me. 'indeed, an' i will, m' lad,' he sayss, 'an' 'oo can have it whenever 'oo likes,' he sayss.... damn him for a rogue, i tell 'oo!" martin laughed. "well, ye was soft. them blokes' bizness is keepin', ain't it?" "iss, indeed! well, i tell 'oo, i got in trouble with a policeman in th' broomielaw. it took four o' them to run me in, indeed!" pleasantly reminiscent; "an' the next mornin' i wass put up for assaultin' th' police. 'i don't know nothin' about it,' i sayss, when the old fella' asked me. 'thirty shillins' or fourteen days,' he sayss! ... well, i didn't haf any money left, but i told a policeman, and he said he would send for owen evanss.... after a while evanss come to the office, an' they took me in. i was quite quiet, indeed, bein' sober, i tell 'oo.... 'owen, _machgen-i_,' i sayss, 'will 'oo pay the thirty shillin's out of the ten poun'ss i give 'oo?' 'what ten poun'ss?' he sayss. 'what ten poun'ss?' i sayss. '_diwedd-i_, the ten poun'ss i give 'oo t' keep for me,' i sayss. 'ten poun'ss,' he sayss, 'ten poun'ss to keep for 'oo, an' it iss two weeks' board an' lodgin' 'oo are owin' me, indeed!' 'damn 'oo!' i sayss. 'did i not give 'oo ten poun'ss when i wass paid off out of the _wanderer_, an' 'oo said 'oo would keep it for ne and give it back again when i wanted it?' i sayss.... 'what are 'oo talkin' about?' he sayss. ''oo must be drunk, indeed!' ... 'have 'oo got a receipt for it, m' lad?' sayss the sergeant. 'no, indeed,' i sayss. 'i didn't ask him for a receipt.' ... 'oh,' he sayss, 'we've heard this pefore,' he sayss, shuttin' th' book an' signin' to the policeman to put me away. i made for owen evanss, but there wass too many policemen indeed.... so i had to serve the month, i tell 'oo!" john stroked his beard mournfully, muttering, "ten poun'ss, indeed! ten poun'ss, py damm!" "an' didn't ye git square wi' th' bloke wot done ye?" asked the bo'sun. "oh, iss! iss, indeed!" john brightened up at thought of it. "when i came out i went straight to great clyde street an' give him th' best hidin' he effer got, i tell 'oo! i took ten poun'ss of skin an' hair out of him pefore th' police came. fine! i think it wass fine, an' i had to do two months for that.... when i come out the street wass full of policemen, indeed, so i signed in this barque an' sold my advance note to a jew for ten pob!" ten shillings! for what, if the discounter saw to it that his man went to sea, was worth three pounds when the ship had cleared the channel! on the other hand, dan nairn, a straits of canso sailor-farmer (mostly farmer), had something to say. "waall, boy-ees, they ain't awl like that, i guess! i came acraus caow-punchin' on a donalds'n cattle boat, an' landed in glasgow with damn all but a stick ov chewin' tebaccer an' two dallars, canad'n, in my packet. i put up with a scowwegian in centre street; a stiff good feller too! guess i was 'baout six weeks or more in 'is 'aouse, an' he give me a tidy lot 'er fixin's--oilskins an' sea-boots an' awl--out 'er my month's advance." "oh, some is good and some ain't," said martin. "ah knowed a feller wot 'ad an 'ard-up boardin'-'ouse in tiger bay. awl th' stiffs in cardiff use' ter lay back on 'im w'en nobody else 'ud give 'em 'ouse room--hoodlums and dagos an' greeks wot couldn't get a ship proper. 'e 'ad rooms in 'is 'ouse fitted up wi' bunks like a bloomin' fo'cs'le, ah' 'is crowd got their grub sarved out, same's they wos at sea. every tide time 'e wos down at th' pier-'ead wi' six or seven of 'is gang--'ook-pots an' pannikins, an' bed an' piller--waitin' their chanst ov a 'pier-'ead jump.' that wos th' only way 'e could get 'is men away, 'cos they worn't proper sailormen as c'd go aboard a packet 'n ast for a sight like you an' me. most of 'em 'ad bad discharges or dead-'un's papers or somethin'! 'pier-'ead jumps,' they wos, an' they wouldn't never 'a' got a ship, only f'r that feller an' 'is 'ard-up boardin'-'ouse." martin picked up his precious 'log' and turned to go below. "anyways, good or bad," he said, "them 'sharks' 'as got my ol' iron fer the last month, an' if this worn't a starvation bloomin' scotch packet, an' a crew of bloomin' know-alls, fixing me with a fancy curl of lip, we'd a _chanteyed_ th' 'dead 'orse' aft t'night an' ast th' ol' man t' splice the mainbrace." he passed into the forecastle, and through the open door we could hear him sing a snatch of the 'dead horse' _chantey_:-- "_but now th' month is up, ol' turk!_ (_an' we says so, an' we 'opes so._) _get up, ye swine, an' look fer work!_ (_oh! poor--ol'--man!_) "_get up, ye swine, an' look fer graft!_ (_an' we says so, an' we 'opes so._) _while we lays on an' yanks ye aft!_ (_oh! poor--ol'--man!_)" v 'sea price' at first weak and baffling, the south-east trades strengthened and blew true as we reached away to the south'ard under all sail. already we had forgotten the way of bad weather. it seemed ages since we had last tramped the weltering decks, stamping heavily in our big sea-boots for warmth, or crouching in odd corners to shelter from the driven spray, the bitter wind and rain. now we were fine-weather voyagers--like the flying-fish and the albacore, and bonita, that leapt the sea we sailed in. the tranquil days went by in busy sailor work; we spent the nights in a sleepy languor, in semi-wakefulness. in watch below we were assured of our rest, and even when 'on deck'--save for a yawning pull at sheet or halyard when the mate was jealous at our idling, or a brief spell at wheel or look out--were at liberty to seek out a soft plank and lie back, gazing up at the gently swaying mastheads till sleep came again. higher and higher, as the days went by, the southern stars rose from the sea-line, while--in the north--homely constellations dipped and were lost to view. night by night we had the same true breeze, the sea unchanged, the fleecy trade clouds forming on the sea-line--to fade ere they had reached the zenith. there seemed no end to our pleasured progress! ah, it is good to be alive and afloat where the trades blow. down south, there! but, in spite of the fine weather and the steady breeze, there were signs of what our voyage would be when the 'barefoot days' were done. out beyond the clear sky and tender clouds, the old hands saw the wraith of the rugged cape that we had yet to weather. the impending wrestle with the rigours of 'the horn' sent them to their preparations when we had scarce crossed the line. old martin was the fore hand. now, his oilskins hung out over the head, stretched on hoops and broomsticks, glistening in a brave new coat of oil and blacking. then vootgert and dutch john took the notion, and set to work by turns at a canvas wheel-coat that was to defy the worst gale that ever blew. young houston--canny shetlander--put aside his melodeon, and clicked and clicked his needles at a famous pair of north-country hose. welsh john and m'innes--'the celtic twins'--clubbed their total outfit and were busy overhauling, while bo'sun hicks spent valuable time and denied us his yarns while he fortified his leaky bunk by tar and strips of canvas. even wee laughlin, infected by the general industry of the forecastle, was stitching away (long, outward-bound stitches) at a cunning arrangement of trousers that would enable him to draw on his two pairs at once. all had some preparation to make--all but we brassbounders! we saw no farther than the fine weather about us. most had been 'round the horn' before, and we should have known but there was no old 'steady-all' to ballast our cock-a-boat, and we scorned the wisdom of the forecastle. 'good enough t' be goin' on with,' and 'come day, go day'--were our mottoes in the half-deck. time enough, by and by, when the weather showed a sign! we had work enough when on duty to keep us healthy! fine days and 'watch below' were meant for lazying--for old annuals of the b.o.p., for dicks's standards, for the seaside library! everyone knows that the short dog-watches were meant for sing-song and larking, and, perhaps, a fight, or two! what did we care if old martin and his mates were croak, croak, croakin' about 'standin' by' and settin' th' gear handy? we were 'hard cases,' all of us, even young munro and burke, the 'nipper' of the starboard watch! _we_ didn't care! _we_ could stand the racket! _huh!_ so we lazied the fine days away, while our sea harness lay stiffening in the dark lockers. subtly, almost imperceptibly, the weather changed. there was a chill in the night air; it was no longer pleasant to sleep on deck. the stars were as bright, the sky as clear, the sea as smooth; but when the sun had gone, damp vapours came and left the deck chill and clammy to the touch.... 'barefoot days' were over! still and all, the 'times' were good enough. if the flying-fish no longer swept from under the bows in a glistening shoal, the trades yet served us well. the days drew on. the day when we shifted the patched and threadbare tropic sails and bent our stoutest canvas in their place; the day when sann'y armstrong, the carpenter, was set to make strong weatherboards for the cabin skylights; the day--a cloudy day--when the spars were doubly lashed and all spare fittings sent below. we had our warning; there were signs, a plenty! all too soon our sunny days came to an end. the trades petered out in calms and squally weather. off the river plate a chill wind from the south set us to 'tack and tack,' and when the wind hauled and let us free to our course again, it was only to run her into a gale on the verge of the 'forties.' then for three days we lay hove-to, labouring among heavy seas. the 'buster' fairly took our breath away. the long spell of light winds had turned us unhandy for storm work. the swollen ropes, stiffened in the block-sheaves, were stubborn when we hauled; the wet, heavy canvas that thrashed at us when stowing sail proved a fighting demon that called for all our strength; the never-ending small work in a swirl of lashing water found us slow and laboured at the task. all this was quickly noted by the mate, and he lost no time in putting us to rights. service in new bedford whalers had taught him the 'yankee touch,' and, as m'innes put it, he was 'no' slow' with his big hands. "lay along here, sons," he would roar, standing to the braces.... "lay along, sons;--ye know what sons i mean! ... aft here, ye lazy hounds, and see me make 'sojers,' sailors!!" with his language we had no great grievance. we could appreciate a man who said things--sailor-like and above board--but when it came to knocking a man about (just because he was 'goin' t' get his oilskins,' when the order was 'aloft, an' furl') there were ugly looks here and there. we had our drilling while the gale lasted, and, when it cleared, our back muscles were 'waking up.' now--with moderate weather again--famous preparations began in the half-deck; everyone of us was in haste to put his weather armour to rights. oilskins, damp and sticking, were dragged from dark corners. "rotten stuff, anyway. we'll have no more of blank's outfits, after this," we said, as we pulled and pinched them apart. "oh, damn! i forgot about that stitchin' on the leg of my sea-boot," said one. "wish i'd had time t' put a patch on here," said another, ruefully holding out his rubbers. "too far gone for darning," said eccles. "here goes," and he snipped the feet part from a pair of stockings and tied a ropeyarn at the cut! we were jeered at from the forecastle. old martin went about _clucking_ in his beard. at every new effort on our part, his head went nod, nod, nodding. "oh, them brassbounders!" he would say. "them ruddy 'know-alls'! wot did i tell ye, eh? wot did i tell 'em, w'en we was a-crossin' th' line, eh? an' them 's th' fellers wot'll be a-bossin' of you an' me, bo'sun! comin' th' 'hard case,' like the big feller aft there!" martin was right, and we felt properly humbled when we sneaked forward in search of assistance. happily, in dan nairn we found a cunning cobbler, and for a token in sea currency--a plug or two of hard tobacco--he patched and mended our boots. with the oilskins, all our smoothing and pinching was hopeless. the time was gone when we could scrub the sticky mess off and put a fresh coating of oil on the fabric. ah! we pulled long faces now and thought that, perhaps, sing-song and larking, and dicks's standards and the seaside library are not good value for a frozen soaking off the horn! but there was still a haven to which we careless mariners could put in and refit. the captain's 'slop chest'--a general store, where oilskins were 'sea priced' at a sovereign, and sea-boots could be had for thirty shillings! at these figures they would have stood till they crumbled in a sailor-town shop window, but ° s. is a world away from broomielaw corner, and we were glad enough to be served, even if old niven, the steward, did pass off old stock on us. "naw! ye'll no' get ye'r pick! yell jist tak' whit 's gien' ye ... or nane ava'!" wee laughlin was a large buyer. he--of us all--had come to sea 'same 's he was goin' t' church!' a pier-head jump! so far, he had borrowed and borrowed, but even good-natured dutch john was learning english, and would say, "jou come to _mein haus, und_ stay mit me," or "_was für_ jou nod trink less _und_ buy somet'ings," at each wily approach. on the day when 'slops' were served out, the pride of rue-en' street was first at the cabin door. as he was fitted and stepped along forward with his purchases, the bo'sun saw him, and called: "hello! oilskins an' sea-boots an' new shirts, eh? i see ye're outward bound, young feller!" laughlin leered and winked cunning-like. "what d'ye mean by outward bound," asked munro. "we're all outward bound, an't we?" "of course; of course," said hicks. "all outward bound! but w'en i says it that wye, i mean as lawklin is a-spendin' of 'is 'dibs,' ... meanin' t' desert w'en we gets out! if 'e don't 'op it as soon as we anchors in 'frisco bay, ye kin call me a ruddy dutchman!" "desert? but that's serious?" "ho no! not there it ain't! desertin' 's as easy as rollin' off a log, ... out there! d'ye think th' queer-fella' is goin' t' pay them prices for 'is kit, if 'e wos goin' t' stop by her in 'frisco? not much 'e ain't! an' ye kin tike it as a few more is goin' t' 'op it, or ye wouldn't see so many of 'em aft 'ere for their bloomin' 'sundries'!" "_wel, wel_, now! these prices is not pad, indeed," said welsh john, who had joined us. "i haf paid more than three shillin' for a knife pefore!" "_heh! heh!_" the bo'sun laughed. "when a 'taffy' that's a-buyin' says that, ye may say it's right! ... but, blimy--the boot's on th' other foot w'en it's 'taffy' as is a-sellin'! _heh! heh!_ there wos old man lewis of th' _vanguard_, o' liverpool, that i signed in! blimy! 'e could tell ye wot 'sea price' is!" "good ol' 'sea price,'" said martin. "many an' 'appy 'ome, an' garden wit' a flagstaff, is built o' 'sea price'!" "right, ol' son! right," continued the bo'sun. "old man lewis owned a row of 'em, ... down in fishguard.... i sailed in th' _vanguard_ out o' liverpool t' noo york an' then down south, 'ere--boun' t' callao. off th' falklan's, the old man opens out 'is bloomin' slop-chest an' starts dealin'. a pound for blankits wot ye c'd shoot peas through, an' fifteen bob for serge shirts--same kind as th' sheenies sells a' four an' tanner in th' mawrsh! of course, nobody 'ud buy 'em in at that price, though we wos all 'parish rigged'--us bein' 'bout eight months out from 'ome. if we 'ad been intendin' t' leave 'er, like th' queer-fella, there, it 'ud a bin all right, but we 'ad 'bout twenty-five poun' doo each of us, an' we wasn't keen on makin' th' old man a n'ansome presint!" "how could he get that?" "'ow could 'e get it? easy 'nuff, in them days! as soon as we 'ad a bin over th' rail, 'e 'ud 'ave us down in 'is bloomin' book--slops supplied--five pun' 'ere--six pun' there--an' so on! ... well, i was sayin' as we was goin' south, round th' 'orn! winter time it was--an' cold! cruel! ye couldn't tell who ye'r feet belonged to till ye 'ad ye'r boots off. west an' sou'-west gales, 'ard runnin', ... an' there we wos, away t' hell an' gone south' o' th' reg'lar track! "i wos at the wheel one day, an' i 'eard th' old man an' th' mate confabbin' 'bout th' ship's position. "'fifty-nine, forty, south,' says th' mate. 'antarctic bloody exploration, i call this!' ... 'e was frappin' 'is 'an's like a fenchurch cabby.... 'it's 'bout time ye wos goin' round, capt'n! she'd fetch round 'cape stiff' with a true west wind! she'll be in among th' ice soon, if ye don't alter th' course! time we was gettin' out o' this,' says he, 'with two of th' han's frost-bit an' th' rest of us 'bout perishin'!' "'oh no,' says old lewis. 'no, indeed! don't you make any mistike, mister! south's th' course, ... south till i sells them fine blankits an' warm shirts!'" vi rounding the horn rounding cape horn from the eastward, setting to the teeth of the great west wind, to the shock and onset of towering seas; furious combination of the elements that sweep unchecked around the globe! days passed, and we fared no farther on. north we would go with the yards hard on the back-stays; to wear ship, and steer again south over the same track. hopeless work it was, and only the prospect of a slant--a shift of wind that would let us to our journey--kept us hammering doggedly at the task. day after day of huge sea and swell, mountainous in calm or storm. leaden-grey skies, with a brief glint of sunshine now and then--for it was nominally summer time in low latitudes. days of gloomy calm, presage of a fiercer blow, when the old man (orcadian philosopher that he was) caught and skilfully stuffed the great-winged albatross that flounders helplessly when the wind fails. days of strong breezes, when we tried to beat to windward under a straining main-to'gal'nsail; ever a west wind to thwart our best endeavours, and week-long gales, that we rode out, hove-to in the trough of overwhelming seas, lurching to leeward under low canvas. we had become sailors in earnest. we had forgotten the way of steady trades and flying-fish weather, and, when the wind howled a whole gale, we slapped our oilskin-clad thighs and lied cheerfully to each other of greater gales we had been in. even wee laughlin and m'innes were turned to some account and talked of sail and spars as if they had never known the reek of steamer smoke. in the half-deck we had little comfort during watch below. at every lurch of the staggering barque, a flood of water poured through the crazy planking, and often we were washed out by an untimely opening of the door. though at heart we would rather have been porters at a country railway station, we put a bold front to the hard times and slept with our wet clothes under us that they might be the less chilly for putting on at eight bells. we had seldom a stitch of dry clothing, and the galley looked like a corner of paddy's market whenever mcewan, the 'gallus' cook, took pity on our sodden misery. in the forecastle the men were better off. collins had rigged an affair of pipes to draw the smoke away, and it was possible, in all but the worst of weather, to keep the bogie-stove alight. we would gladly have shifted to these warmer quarters, but our parents had paid a premium for _privileged berthing_, and the old man would not hear of our flitting. happily, we had little darkness to add to the misery of our passage, for the sun was far south, and we had only three hours of night. yet, when the black squalls of snow and sleet rolled up from the westward, there was darkness enough. at times a flaw in the wind--a brief veering to the south--would let us keep the ship travelling to the westward. all hands would be in high spirits; we would go below at the end of our watches, making light of sodden bedclothes, heartened that at last our 'slant' had come. alas for our hopes! before our watch was due we would be rudely wakened. "_all hands wear ship_"--the dreaded call, and the mate thundering at the half-deck door, shouting orders in a threatening tone that called for instant spur. then, at the braces, hanging to the ropes in a swirl of icy water, facing up to the driving sleet and bitter spray, that cut and stung like a whiplash. and when at last the yards were laid to the wind, and the order '_down helm_' was given, we would spring to the rigging for safety, and, clinging desperately, watch the furious sweep of a towering 'greybeard' over the barque, as she came to the wind and lay-to. wild, heart-breaking work! only the old hands, 'hard cases' like martin and welsh john and the bo'sun, were the stoics, and there was some small comfort in their "whoo! this ain't nuthin'! ye sh'd a' bin shipmates with me in the ol' _boryallus_!" (or some such ancient craft.) "_them_ wos 'ard times!" twice we saw diego ramirez and the iledefonsos, with an interval of a fortnight between the sightings--a cluster of bleak rocks, standing out of surf and broken water, taking the relentless battery of huge seas that swept them from base to summit. once, in clear weather, we marked a blue ridge of land far to the norrard, and old martin and vootgert nearly came to blows as to whether it was cape horn or the false cape. fighting hard for every inch of our laboured progress, doubling back, crossing, recrossing (our track on the old blue-back chart was a maze of lines and figures) we won our way to ° w., and there, in the hardest gale of the passage, we were called on for tribute, for one more to the toll of sailor lives claimed by the rugged southern gateman. all day the black ragged clouds had swept up from the south-west, the wind and sea had increased hourly in violence. at dusk we had shortened sail to topsails and reefed foresail. but the old man hung on to his canvas as the southing wind allowed us to go 'full and by' to the nor'-west. hurtling seas swept the decks, tearing stout fittings from their lashings. the crazy old half-deck seemed about to fetch loose with every sea that crashed aboard. from stem to stern there was no shelter from the growing fury of the gale; but still the old man held to his course to make the most of the only proper 'slant' in six weary weeks. at midnight the wind was howling slaughter, and stout old jock, dismayed at last at the furious sea upreared against him, was at last forced to lay her to. in a piping squall of snow and sleet we set to haul up the foresail. even the nigger could not find heart to rouse more than a mournful _i--o--ho_ at the buntlines, as we slowly dragged the heavy slatting canvas to the yard. intent on the work, we had no eye to the weather, and only the captain and steersman saw the sweep of a monster sea that bore down on us, white-crested and curling. "stand by," yelled the old man. "hang on, for your lives, men! christ! hold hard there!" underfoot we felt the ship falter in swing--an ominous check in her lift to the heaving sea. then out of the blackness to windward a swift towering crest reared up--a high wall of moving water, winged with leagues of tempest at its back. it struck us sheer on the broadside, and shattered its bulk aboard in a whelming torrent, brimming the decks with a weight that left no life in the labouring barque. we were swept to leeward at the first shock, a huddled mass of writhing figures, and dashed to and fro with the sweep of the sea. gradually, as the water cleared, we came by foothold again, sorely bruised and battered. "haul away again, men!" the mate, clearing the blood of a head wound from his eyes, was again at the foretack giving slack. "hell! what ye standing at? haul away, blast ye! haul an' rouse her up!" half-handed, we strained to raise the thundering canvas; the rest, with the second mate, were labouring at the spare spar, under which houston, an ordinary seaman, lay jammed with his thigh broken. pinching with handspikes, they got him out and carried aft, and joined us at the gear; and at last the sail was hauled up. "_aloft and furl_," was the next order, and we sprang to the rigging in time to escape a second thundering 'grey-beard.' it was dark, with a black squall making up to windward, as we laid out on the yard and grappled with the wet and heavy canvas. once we had the sail up, but the wind that burst on us tore it from our stiffened fingers. near me a grown man cried with the pain of a finger-nail torn from the flesh. we rested a moment before bending anew to the task. "handy now, laads!" the second mate at the bunt was roaring down the wind. "stick t it, ma herts, ... hold aal, now! ... damn ye, hold it, you. ye haandless sojer! ... up, m' sons; up an' hold aal." cursing the stubborn folds, swaying dizzily on the slippery footropes, shouting for hold and gasket, we fought the struggling wind-possessed monster, and again the leach was passed along the yard. a turn of the gasket would have held it, but even the leading hands at the bunt were as weak and breathless as ourselves. the squall caught at an open lug, and again the sail bellied out, thrashing fiendishly over the yard. there was a low but distinct cry, "oh, christ!" from the quarter, and m'innes, clutching wildly, passed into the blackness below. for a moment all hands clung desperately to the jackstay, fending the thrashing sail with bent heads; then some of the bolder spirits made to come off the yard.... "the starboard boat .... who? ... duncan ... it's duncan gone.... quick there, the star ... the lashings!" the second mate checked their movement. "no! no! back, ye fools! back, i say! man canna' help duncan now!" he stood on the truss of the yard, grasping the stay, and swung his heavy sea-boot menacingly. "back, i say! back, an' furl the sail, ... if ye wouldna' follow duncan!" slowly we laid out the yard again, and set sullenly to master duncan's murderer. a lull came. we clutched and pounded at the board-like cloths, dug with hooked fingers to make a crease for handhold, and at last turned the sail to the yard, though lubberly and ill-furled. one by one, as our bit was secured, we straggled down the rigging. some of the hands were aft on the lee side of the poop, staring into the darkness astern--where duncan was. munro, utterly unmanned, was crying hysterically. in his father's country manse, he had known nothing more bitter than the death of a favourite collie. now he was at sea, and by his side a man muttered, "dead?--my god, i hope he's dead, ... out there!" the old man crossed over from the weather side, and addressing the men, said: "the second mate tells me ye wanted t' get t' th' boat when m'innes .... went.... i'm pleased that ye've that much guts in ye, but i could risk no boat's crew in a sea like this.... besides, i'm more-ally certain that m'innes was dead before he took the water. eh, mister?" "aye ... dead," said the mate. "i saw him strike the to'gal'nt rail, and no man could live after a blow like that. dead, sure!" old jock returned to his post under the weather-cloth, and the mate ordered the watch below. so duncan took his discharge, and a few days later, in clearing weather, his few belongings were sold at the mast. it was known that he wasn't married, but welsh john, who knew him best, said he had spoken of his mother in skye; and the old man kept a few letters and his watch that he might have something besides his money to send to duncan's relatives. as if duncan had paid our toll for rounding the storm-scarred cape, the weather cleared and winds set fair to us after that last dread night of storm. under a press of canvas we put her head to the norrard, and soon left the horn and the 'roaring forties' astern. * * * * * one night, in the middle watch, when we had nearly run out the south-east trades, i went forward, looking for someone to talk to, or anything to relieve the tedium of my two hours on the lee side of the poop. i found welsh john sitting on the main-hatch and disposed to yarn. he had been the most intimate with duncan, harkening to his queer tales of the fairies in knoidart when we others would scoff, and naturally the talk came round to our lost shipmate. it was bright moonlight, and the shadow of sails and rigging was cast over the deck. near us, in the lee of the house, some sleepers lay stretched. the mate stepped drowsily fore and aft the poop, now and then squinting up at the royals. "i wonder what brought duncan to a windjammer," i said. "he was too old to be starting the sea, an' there were plenty of jobs on the river for a well-doin' man like him." welsh john spat carefully on the deck, and, after looking round, said, "tuncan was here, indeed, because he thought the police would bother him. he told me he wass in a small steamboat that runs from loch fyne to the clyde, an' the skipper was a man from killigan or kalligan, near tuncan's place." "kyle-akin," i suggested. "that iss it, kyle-akin; an' he was very far in drink. they started from inverary for the river, and it wass plowin' strong from the south-east, an' the small boat wass makin' very bad weather, indeed. the skipper wass very trunk, an' tuncan, who wass steerin', said they should put in to shelter for the night. but the skipper wass quarrelsome, an' called tuncan a coward an' a nameless man from skye, an' they came to plows. tuncan let go the tiller, an' the small boat came broadside on, and shipped a big sea, an' when tuncan got to the tiller an' put it up, the skipper was gone. they never saw him, so they came on to the clyde, where tuncan left the poat. an' they were askin' questions from him, an' tuncan was afraid; but indeed to goodness he had no need to pe. so he shipped with us--a pier-head jump it wass...." a sleeper stirred uneasily, rolled over, and cursed us for a pair of chatterin' lawyers. we were both quiet for a moment or two; then the strident voice of the mate rang out, "boy! boy! where the hell have you got to now? lay aft and trim the binnacle!" i mounted the poop ladder, muttering the usual excuse about having been to see the side-lights. i trimmed the lamps, and as it was then a quarter to four, struck one bell and called the watch. as i waited on the poop to strike the hour, the men were turning out forward, and i could hear the voice of the eldest apprentice chiding the laggards in the half-deck. i thought of duncan, and of what welsh john had told me. "aye, aye, that was duncan. that was the way of it. i always wond----" _cla--clang--cla--clang--cla--clang--cla--clang._ the mate, anxious to get his head on pillow, had flogged the clock and had struck eight bells himself. vii a hot cargo shorefolk can have but a hazy idea of all that it means to the deep-water sailor when at last, after long voyaging, the port of his destination heaves in sight. for months he has been penned up on shipboard, the subject of a discipline more strict than that in any way of life ashore. the food, poor in quality, and of meagre allowance at the best, has become doubly distasteful to him. the fresh water has nearly run out, and the red rusty sediment of the tank bottoms has a nauseating effect and does little to assuage the thirst engendered by salt rations. shipmates have told and retold their yarns, discussions now verge perilously on a turn of fisticuffs. he is wearying of sea life, is longing for a change, for a break in the monotony of day's work and watch-keeping, of watch-keeping and day's work. a welcome reaction comes on the day when he is ordered to put the harbour gear in readiness. generally he has only a hazy notion of the ship's position (it is sea fashion to keep that an officers' secret), and the rousing up of the long idle anchor chains and tackle is his first intimation that the land is near, that any day may now bring the shore to view, that soon he will be kicking his heels in a sailor-town tavern, washing off his 'salt casing' with lashings of the right stuff. this was in part our case when we were a hundred and forty days out from the clyde. the food was bad and short allowance; the key of the pump was strictly guarded, but we had excitement enough and to spare, for, six days before our 'landfall,' the bo'sun discovered fire in the fore-hold that had evidently been smouldering for some time, was deep-seated, and had secured a firm hold. it was difficult to get at the fire on account of the small hatchway, and notwithstanding the laboured efforts of all hands, we were at last obliged to batten the hatches down and to trust to a lucky 'slant' to put us within hail of assistance. the water which we had so fruitlessly poured below had all to be pumped out again to get the ship in sailing trim; and heart-breaking work it was, with the wheezy old pump sucking every time the ship careened to leeward. anxiety showed on all faces, and it was with great relief that, one day at noon, we watched the mate nailing a silver dollar to the mizzenmast. the dollar was his who should first sight the distant shore. we held a leading wind from the norrard, and when, on the afternoon of a bright day, we heard the glad shout from the fore-tops'l yard--"land-oh"--we put a hustle on our movements, and, light at heart, found excuse to lay aloft to have a far-away look at god's good earth again. it was the farallone islands we had made--thirty miles west from the golden gate--a good landfall. dutch john was the lucky man to see it first, and we gave him a cheer as he laid aft to take the dollar off the mast. in the second dog-watch we hung about the decks discussing prospective doings when we set foot ashore, and those who had been in 'frisco before formed centres of inquiry and importance. from the bearing of the land, we expected orders to check in the yards, but, greatly to our surprise, the mate ordered us to the lee fore-brace, and seemed to be unable to get the yards far enough forrard to please him. when wee laughlin came from the wheel at eight bells, we learned that the ship was now heading to the nor'east, and away from our port; and the old hands, with many shakings of the head, maintained that some tricky game was afoot. the old man and the mate were colloguing earnestly at the break of the poop; and jones, who went aft on a pretence of trimming the binnacle, reported that the old man was expressing heated opinions on the iniquity of salvage. at midnight we squared away, but as we approached the land the wind fell light and hauled ahead. wonder of wonders! this seemed to please the captain hugely, and his face beamed like a nor'west moon every time he peered into the compass. dawn found us well to the norrard of the islands, and close-hauled, standing into the land. from break of day all hands were busy getting the anchors cleared and the cables ranged. some were engaged painting out the rusty bits on the starboard top-side. a 'work-up' job they thought it was until the mate ordered them to leave the stages hanging over the water abreast of the fore-hatch. here the iron plating was hot, the paint was blistered off, and every time the ship heeled over there was an unmistakable _sssh_ as the water lapped the heated side. this, and the smell of hot iron, was all that there was to tell of our smouldering coal below, but 'frisco men from the water front are sharp as ferrets, and very little would give them an inkling of the state of affairs. presently we raised the land broad on the port bow, and two of us were perched on the fore-to'gal'nt yard to look out for the pilot schooner; or, if luck was in our way, a tow-boat. the land became more distinct as the day wore on, and the bearing of several conspicuous hills gave the captain the position he sought. before noon we reported smoke ahead, and the mate, coming aloft with his telescope, made out the stranger to be a tow-boat, and heading for us. we were called down from aloft, and the ship was put about. we were now, for the second time, heading away from our port; and when the mate set us to slap the paint on the burned patch, we understood the old man's manoeuvre, which had the object of preventing the tow-boat from rounding to on our starboard side. her skipper would there have assuredly seen evidences of our plight, and would not have been slow to take advantage of it. the tug neared us rapidly (they lose no time on the pacific slope), and the captain recognised her as the _active_. "she's one of spreckel's boats," said he, shutting his glass. "cutbush runs her, an' he's a dead wide ane. if he smells a rat, mister, we'll be damned lucky if we get into harbour under a couple o' thousand." we were all excited at the game, though it mattered little to us what our owners paid, as long as we got out of our hot corner. straight for us he came, and when he rounded our stern and lay up on the lee quarter, the bo'sun voiced the general opinion that the old man had done the trick. "morn, cap.! guess ye've bin a long time on th' road," sang out the tow-boat's skipper, eyeing our rusty side and grassy counter. "head winds," said the old man, "head winds, an' no luck this side o' th' horn." "ye're a long way to th' norrard, cap. bin havin' thick weather outside?" "well, not what ye might call thick, but musty, these last few days. we were lookin' to pick up the farallones." (the unblushing old ananias!) there ensued a conversation about winds and weather, ships and freights, interspersed with the news of five months back. the talk went on, and neither seemed inclined to get to business. at last the tow-boat man broke the ice. "wall, cap., i reckon ye don't want t' stay here all day. wind's easterly inside, an' there ain't none too much water on th' bar. ye'd better give us yer hawser 'n let's git right along." "oh! no hurry, capt'in; there's no hurry. what's a day here or there when ye'r well over the hundreds? i can lay up to th' pilot ground on th' next tack.... ye'll be wantin' a big figure from here, an' my owners won't stand a long pull." "only six hundred, cap., only six hundred, with your hawser." the old man started back in amazement. "six hundred dollars, capt'in. did you say six hundred? holy smoke! i don't want t' buy yer boat, capt'in.... six hundred--well, i'm damned. loose them royals, mister! six hundred, no damn fear!" quickly we put the royals on her, though they were little use, the wind having fallen very light. the tow-boat sheered off a bit, and her skipper watched us sheeting-home, as if it were a most interesting and uncommon sight. he gave his wheel a spoke or two and came alongside again. "all right, cap. give us yer hawser 'n i'll dock ye for five-fifty!" the old man paid no attention to his request, but paced fore and aft the weather side, gazing occasionally at the lazy royals, then fixing the man at the wheel with a reproachful eye. at last he turned to leeward with a surprised expression, as if astonished to find the tow-boat still there. "come, cap.! strike it right naow! what d'ye offer? mind the wind, as there is ov it, is due east in the strait." the old man thought carefully for quite a time. "hundred 'n fifty, 'n your hawser," he said. the captain of the _active_ jammed his telegraph at full speed ahead. "good morn', cap.," he said. "guess i'll see ye in 'frisco this side o' the noo year." he forged rapidly ahead, and when clear of the bows took a long turn to seaward. the mate took advantage of his being away and wiped off the paint on the burned patch, which was beginning to smell abominably. fresh paint was hurriedly put on, and the stages were again aboard when the _active_, finding nothing to interest her on the western horizon, returned--again to the lee quarter. "saay, cap., kan't we do a deal; kan't we meet somewhere?" said cutbush, conciliatory. "say five hundred or four-eighty, 'n i'll toss ye for th' hawser?" "i can't do it, capt'in.... i'd lose my job if i went," (here the old man paused to damn the steersman's eyes, and to tell him to keep her full) "if i went that length." the tow-boat again sheered off, and her skipper busied himself with his telescope. "wall, cap., she may be a smart barque, but i'm darn ef ye can beat her though the golden gate the way th' wind is. saay! make it three-fifty? what the hell's about a fifty dollars. darn me! i've blown that in half-hour's poker!" "aye, aye! that's so; but i'm no' takin' a hand in that game. set the stays'ls, mister, 'n get a pull on the fore 'n main sheets!" we went about the job, and the _active_ took another turn, this time to the south'ard. munro, aloft loosing the staysails, reported a steamer away under the land. she was sending up a dense smoke, and that caused the old man to account her another tow-boat out seeking. "that'll fetch him," he said to the mate, "'n if he offers again i'll close. three-fifty's pretty stiff, but we can't complain." "egad, no!" said the mate; "if i'd been you i'd have closed for five hundred, an' be done with it." "aye, aye, no doubt! no doubt! but ye're not a scotchman looking after his owners' interest." soon we saw the _active_ smoking up and coming towards us with 'a bone in her mouth.' cutbush had seen the stranger's smoke, and he lost no time. he seemed to be heading for our starboard side, and we thought the game was up; but the old man kept off imperceptibly, and again the tug came to port. "changed yer mind, cap.? guess i must be gwine back. got t' take the _drumeltan_ up t' port-costa in th' mornin'. what d'ye say t' three hundred?" the old man called the mate, and together they held a serious consultation, with many looks to windward, aloft, and at the compass. the stranger was rapidly approaching, and showed herself to be a yellow-funnelled tow-boat, with a business-like foam about her bows. spreckel's man was getting fidgety, as this was one of the opposition boats, and he expected soon to be quoting a competitive figure. to his pleased surprise, the old man came over to leeward, and, after a last wrangle about the hawser, took him on at the satisfactory figure of three hundred dollars. we put about, and the mate had another little deal in burned paint. courses were hauled up, and the active came along our starboard side to pass the towing wire aboard. the paint hid the patch, and in the manoeuvre of keeping clear of our whisker-booms, the smell escaped notice, and the marks of our distress were not noticed by her crew. we hauled the wire aboard and secured the end, and the _active's_ crew heard nothing significant in the cheer with which we set about clewing-up and furling sail. the afternoon was far spent when we reached the pilot schooner. she was lying at anchor outside the bar, the wind having died away; and as she lifted to the swell, showed the graceful underbody of an old-time 'crack.' the pilot boarded us as we towed past. scarce was he over the rail before he shouted to the old man, "what's the matter, cap'n? guess she looks 's if she had a prutty hot cargo aboard." "hot enough, pilot! hot enough, b' goad! we've bin afire forr'ard these last seven days that we know of, and i'm no' sayin' but that i'm glad t' see th' beach again." "wall, that's bad, cap'n. that's bad. ye won't make much this trip, i guess, when the 'boys' have felt ye over.' he meant when the 'frisco sharps had got their pickings, and the old man chuckled audibly as he replied. "oh, we'll chance that--aye, we'll chance that. it's no' so bad 's if cutbush was gettin' his figger." "what's he gettin', anyway?" "oh, he's doin' verra well. he's doin' verra well," said the old man evasively. we were now approaching the far-famed golden gate, the talk of mariners on seven seas. we boys were sent aloft to unrig the chafing gear, and took advantage of our position and the mate's occupation to nurse the job, that we might enjoy the prospect. the blue headland and the glistening shingle of drake's bay to the norrard and the high cliffs of benita ahead: the land stretching away south, and the light of the westing sun on the distant hills. no wonder that when the mate called us down from aloft to hand flags there was much of our work left unfinished. at benita point we had a busy time signalling news of our condition to the ship's agents at 'frisco. after we passed through the narrows, we had a near view of the wooded slopes of saucilito, with the white-painted houses nestling comfortably among the trees. away to the right the undulating plains of the presidio reached out to the purple haze of the distant city. the pilot, seeing admiration in our eyes, couldn't help blowing, even to us boys, and exclaimed aloud on the greatness of the u-nited states in possessing such a sea-board. "saay, boys," he said. "guess yew ain't got nothin' like this in th' old country!" young munro, who was the nearest, didn't let the pilot away with that, and he mentioned a 'glint of loch fyre, when the sun was in the west'ard.' "and that's only one place i'm speakin' of." the sun was low behind us as we neared the anchorage, and a light haze softened and made even more beautiful the outlines of the stately city. as we looked on the shore, no one had mind of the long dreary voyage. that was past and done. we had thought only for the city of the west that lay before us, the dream of many long weary nights. but, as i gazed and turned away, i was sharply minded of what the sea held for us. houston had been carried on deck, "t' see th' sichts," as he said. his stretcher stood near me, and the sight of his wan face brought up the memory of bitter times 'off the horn.' of the black night when we lost duncan! of the day when houston lay on the cabin floor, and the master-surgeon and his rude assistants buckled to 'the job'! of the screams of the tortured lad--"let me alane! oh, christ! let me al----" till kindly mother nature did what we had no means to do! ... "man, but it was a tough job, with her rolling and pitching in the track o' th' gale!" the old man was telling the pilot about it. "but there he is, noo! as sound as ye like ... a bit weak, mebbe, but sound! ... we'll send him t' th' hospital, when we get settled down.... no' that they could dae mair than i've dune." here a smile of worthy pride. "but a ship 's no' the place for scienteefic measures--stretchin', an' rubbin', an' that.... oh, yes! straight? i'll bate ye he walks as straight as a serjunt before we're ready for sea again!" as we drew on to the anchorage, a large raft-like vessel with barges in tow made out to meet us. the old man turned his glasses on her and gave an exclamation of satisfaction. "meyer's been damn smart in sending out the fire-float," he said to the mate, adding, "get the foreyard cock-billed, mister; and a burton rigged to heave out the cargo as soon 's we anchor. there's the tow-boat whistlin' for ye to shorten in th' hawser. bear a hand, mind ye, for we've a tough night's work before us." * * * * * but all was not pleasant anticipation aboard of the screw tug _active_, towing gallantly ahead, for captain john cutbush had discovered his loss, and the world wasn't big enough for his indictment of fortune. he had seen our flags off benita, but had not troubled to read the message, as he saw the answering pennant flying from the lighthouse. in scanning the anchorage for a convenient berth to swing his tow in, the fire-float caught his eye. "hello! somethin' afire in th' bay!" he turned his glasses among the shipping, in search of a commotion, but all was quiet among the tall ships. "but where's she lyin'-to fer? there ain't nothin' this side ov alcatraz, i reckon." then a dread suspicion crossed his mind, that made him jump for the signal-book. he remembered the flags of our last hoist, and feverishly turned them up. "arrange--assistance---for--arrival." muttering oaths, he dropped the book and focussed his glasses on the tow. the track of the fire was patent to the world now, and we were unbending the sails from the yards above the fore-hatch. "she's afire right 'nuff, 'n i never cottoned. roast me for a ----. 'n that's what the downy old thief was standin' t' th' norrard for, 'n i never cottoned! 'n that's what he took me on at three hundred for, 'n meyer's boat almost along-side. three ---- hundred 'n my ---- hawser. waal--i'm--damned! the old limejuice pirate! guess i should 'a known him for a bloody sharp when i saw glasgow on her stern." he stopped cursing, to blow his whistle--a signal for us to shorten in the towing hawser. in the ensuing manoeuvres he was able to relieve his feelings by criticising our seamanship; he swung us round with a vicious sheer, eased up, and watched our anchor tumbling from the bows. he gazed despairingly at his mate, who was steering. "here's a ruddy mess, gee-orge," he said. "three thousan' dollars clean thrown away. what'll the boss say. what'll they say on th' front?" george cursed volubly, and expended much valuable tobacco juice. "here's a boomer fer th' 'examiner,' geeorge; here's a sweet headline fer th' 'call'! "'cutbush done!' "'cap'n jan cutbush done in th' eye!!' "'cap'n jan s. cutbush, th' smartest skipper on th' front, done in the bloody eye by a bargoo-eatin' son ef a gun ef a grey-headed limejuicer!!!'" viii work! scarcely was our anchor down in 'frisco bay than the boarding-house 'crimps' were alongside, beaming with good-fellowship, and tumbling over one another in their anxiety to shake 'jack' by the hand, and to tell him of the glorious openings and opportunities for smart sailormen ashore. the mate vainly endeavoured to prevent them boarding the ship, but with the ordinary harassing duties incident on arrival, and the extraordinary matter of a serious fire in the hold, he could not do everything; so the 'crimps' installed themselves in the fo'cas'le, and the grog (welcome-home brand) was flowing far and free. the starboard watch were aloft furling the tops'ls, and only the presence of the captain and mates at the foot of the rigging kept them from joining the hilarious crowd in the fo'cas'le. the mate's watch had been employed at the ground tackle, and had dodged in and out of the fo'cas'le; so that, in a very short time, they were all 'three sheets in the wind,' and making for trouble. vootgert, the belgian, was the first to fall foul of the mate, and that sorely-tried officer could hardly be blamed for using all four limbs on the offending 'squarehead.' seeing their shipmate thus handled, the watch would have raised a general mêlée, but the boarding-house 'crimps,' having no liking for police interference, succeeded in calming the valiant ones by further draughts of their fiery panacea. to us boys (who had heard great tales of revolvers and other weapons being freely used by ship captains in preventing their men from being 'got at') these mutinous ongoings were a matter of great wonderment; but, later, we learned that freights were low, and we were likely to be many months in 'frisco; that crews' wages and victualling, when the ship is earning no money, reflect on the professional character of an old-time shipmaster, and that to baulk the 'crimps' on arrival means an expensive delay in making up a crew when the ship is again ready for sea. wee laughlin and the nigger were the first to yield to the eloquence of their visitors. no one was surprised that the mate let laughlin clear without interference. a poor sailor, though a lot had been licked into him since he left the 'poort,' he was not worth keeping. his kind could be picked up on the water front any day. he had come on board at greenock--a pierhead jump, with his wardrobe on his back and a 'hauf-mutchkin' of very inferior whisky in his pocket. now, to our astonishment, he threw a well-filled bag over the side before he slid down the rope into the 'crimp's' boat. long intending to desert when we arrived, he had taken as much of his pay in clothes and slop-chest gear as the old man would allow. it was said, too, that a lot of poor duncan's clothes never came to auction, and more than one suspected wee laughlin of a run through duncan's bag before the old niven got forward and claimed what was left. that well-filled bag! to the second mate, who was eyeing his departure, he flung a salutation, first seeing that his line of retreat was clear. "weel, so long, mister, ye hielan' ----, ye can pit ma fower pun ten i' yer e'e 'n ca' yersel' a bloody banker!" no one saw the nigger go, but gone he was, bag and baggage; and loud were the curses of the cook, to whom he owed four pounds of tobacco for losses at crib. while all this was going on, and the 'crimps' were marking down their prey, the crew of the fire-float had located the fire and cut a hole in the 'tween-decks above the hottest part. through this a big ten-inch hose was passed, and soon the rhythmic _clank-clank_ of their pump brought 'frisco bay to our assistance. darkness fell on a scene of uproar. everything was at sixes and sevens forward, and the discipline of five months was set at naught. drunken men tumbled over the big hose and slippery decks, and got in the firemen's way; steam enveloped the decks as in a fog; dim figures of men struggled and quarrelled; curses and hoarse shouts came from the fo'cas'le, whence the hands were being driven by the rising smoke and steam; rushing figures transferred their few belongings to safer quarters; and through all throbbed the steady _clank-clank_ of the fire-engine. a strange contrast to the quiet and peaceful scene about us--with a low moon over san rafael, and the lights of the shipping reflected in the placid water. a few fishing-boats were drifting out on the tide, with creak of oar and rowlock; and above all was the glare of the lighted streets and harbour lights of the great city. not long had we to contrast the scenes, for the mate, and the old man himself, were at our backs, man-driving the few sober hands, to make up for their inability to handle the skulkers. they did not spare themselves in driving, and at salving the gear in the lamp-room the captain made a weird picture, black and grimy, with a cloth over his mouth, passing the lamps out to the boys. with such a volume of water pouring below, it was necessary to get a pump in position to keep our craft afloat. she was now far down by the head and had a heavy list, and as the ship's pumps would not draw, the firemaster arranged to put one of his pumps into the fore-peak. to make this efficient, we had to raise the sluice in the forrard bulkhead; and even the old man looked anxious when the carpenter reported that the sluice was jammed, and that the screw had broken in his hands. the stream of water into the hold was immediately stopped, and all available hands (few enough we were) were put to clearing the fore-peak, that the sluice could be got at. in this compartment all the ship's spare gear and bos'un's stores were kept, and the lower hold held ten tons of the ship's coal. the small hatchway made despatch impossible, and the want of a winch was keenly felt. it was back-breaking work, hauling up the heavy blocks, the cordage, sails and tarpaulins, chains, kegs and coils, and dragging them out on deck. a suffocating atmosphere and foul gases below showed that the seat of the fire was not far off, and often the workers were dragged up in a semi-conscious state. the mate was the first to go down, and he hung out till nature rebelled, and he was dragged up and put in the open air. there the aggrieved belgian saw him, and, maddened by drink, took advantage of his exhaustion to kick him viciously in the ribs; but jones promptly laid the dutchman out with a hand-spike. in a moment the drink, discontent, excitement, and overwork found vent in furious riot: shipmates of five months' standing, comrades in fair weather and foul, were at each other's throats, and amid the smoke and steam no man could name his enemy. welsh john, in trying to get young munro out of harm's way, was knocked down the open hatch, and he lay, groaning, with a broken arm, amid the steam and stench. hicks, the bo'sun, was stabbed in the cheek, and someone knocking the lamps over, added darkness to the vicious conflict. blind and blaspheming, animals all, we fought our way to the doors, and the malcontents, in ill plight themselves, cared little to follow us. meantime the firemaster, seeing how matters stood, called his men together and turned a hose into the fo'cas'le. the thin, vicious stream proved too much for the mutineers, and we were soon in possession again. john was taken up from the fore-peak (he was far through) and carried aft. the mutineers, such as were fit, were put down below to dig coals till they could dig no more; and again the work went on--weary, body-racking work. with aching eyes and every muscle in revolt, we toiled on in silence, not even a curse among us. silence, broken only by the rattle of the block-sheave, as the baskets of coal were hove up and emptied. there was now no need for the old man to hold himself in readiness, with something in his pocket that bulged prominently, for there was not an ounce of fight left in the crowd, and 'smith and wessons' are ill-fitting things to carry about. two hours we had of this, and give in was very near when the welcome news came up that they had got at the sluice, that the water was trickling through. soon after, the sluice was prised up, and the pent-up water rushed into the peak. the firemaster passed his pipe below, and again the pumps were set agoing. we staggered out into the fresh morning air, red-eyed and ragged, and a madhouse gang we looked in the half-light of an early californian dawn. faces haggard and blackened by the smoke, eyes dazed and bloodshot, and on nearly everyone evidence of the ten minutes' sanguinary encounter in bruised eyes and bloody faces. the mate called a muster to serve out grog, and of our crew of twenty-seven hands only fifteen answered the call. the old man tried to make a few remarks to the men. he had been frequently to the bottle through the night, for his speech was thick and his periods uncertain. "no bloody nozzush, b' goad ... tan' no nozzush, mis'r----" was about the burden of his lay. with a modest glass of strong rum to raise our spirits momentarily, we lingered before going below to note the wreck and confusion that our once trim barque was now in. she was still down by the head, and listed at an awkward angle. the decks were littered with gear and stores, muddy and dirty as a city street on a day of rain. aloft, the ill-furled tops'ls hung bunched below the yards, with lazy gaskets streaming idly in mid-air; and the yards, 'lifted' at all angles, gave a lubberly touch to our distressed appearance. the riding-light, still burning brightly on the forestay, though the sun was now above the horizon, showed that we had lost all regard for routine. a damp mist, the 'pride o' the morning,' was creeping in from seaward, and the siren at the golden gate emitted a mournful wail at intervals. near us, at the anchorage, a big black barque, loaded and in sea-trim, was getting under weigh, and the haunting strain of 'shenandoah,' most beautiful of sea-chanteys, timed by the musical _clank_ of the windlass pawls, was borne on the wind to us. "an outward-bounder, and a blue-nose at that," said martin. we wondered if wee laughlin was already in her fo'cas'le, with a skinful of drugged liquor to reckon with. the 'crimps' lose no time if they can get their man under, and wee laughlin, by his own glory of it, was a famous swallower. in the half-deck, some of the boys were already turned in, and lying in uneasy attitudes, with only their boots and jackets off. jones, who had been severely handled in the scrimmage, was moaning fitfully in his sleep, his head swathed in bloody bandages, and the pallor showing in his face through the grime and coal-dust. hansen was the last man in. he threw himself wearily down on the sea-chests, now all of a heap to leeward, snatched a pillow from under munro's head, and composed himself to rest. "mate says i'm to keep watch, 'n call him at eight bells; but, judgin' by th' way he put the grog down, i'm damn sure he'll stir tack nor sheet till midday.... firemaster says she's under hand, 'n he'll have the fire out in two hours, 'n she can bally well look out for herself.... t' hell with an anchor watch; i can't keep my eyes open, an' 'll work ... work ... no m----" ix in 'frisco town we moored at mission wharf to discharge what cargo the fire had spared, and there we made a lubberly picture, outcast among so many trim ships. the firemen had done their duty and had left us to do ours, and we had to work our hardest to put the ship in order again. a firm of shipwrights were employed to repair the damage--the twisted stanchions, buckled beams, burnt decks, worthless pumps, and hold fittings. old jock was not a scotchman for nothing, and to make their contract profitable, the 'wrights did nothing that they could wriggle out of. so we had extra work to do--their work--and from daylight to dark were kept hard at it, man-driven as only our hardcase mate could drive. it was no wonder that we were in a state of discontent. here we were, after a long, hard voyage, working our 'soul-case' to shreds! and there--just across the wharf--were the lights of market street, that seemed to beckon us to come ashore! there were angry mutterings, and only a wholesome fear of the mate's big hands kept us at the task. with the men forward it was even worse. the word had gone out that no money would be advanced until the cargo was discharged and the ship put to rights. no money--not even the price of a 'schooner'! and the ghost of nigh six months, salt beef waiting to be 'laid!' their state of mind was soon observed by the boarding-masters. whalers were in the bay, fitted out and ready for sea, and only a lack of sailormen kept them within the golden gate. to get these men--the blood-money for their shipment, rather--was the business of the 'crimps,' who showed a wealth of imagination in describing the various topping shore jobs that they held at their disposal. now it was a 'mine manager' they were looking for in our forecastle; to-morrow it would be a fruit salesman they wanted! they secured smiling dutch john as a decoy, and set him up behind the bar of a water front saloon. there, when work was over for the day, his former shipmates foregathered, and john (fairly sober, considering) put up free drinks and expanded on the goodness of a long-shore life. "vat jou boysh stop _mit der_ ship on? jou tinks dere vas no yobs on shore? de boardin'-master damn lie, eh? ... ah vas get me four dollars a day; _und der_ boss, ven 'e see me de glasses break, say me nodings! ah goes from _der haus, und_ comes to _der haus in--und_ 'e say nod like _der_ mate, 'vat jou do dere, _verdamt shwine_? was _für_ jou no go on mit jour vark?' ... _'ttverdam_! it vas _der_ life, _mein_ boysh! it vas _der_ life!" against such a pronouncement from their whilom shipmate, and with the plain evidence of his prosperity before their eyes, it was useless to argue. here was john able to stand free drinks all round, and the saloon boss 'standin' by' and smiling pleasantly. didn't john say, "here, boss, jou gif me a light for _mein_ cigar!" and the owner of the place handed out his silver box instanter? john! a 'dutchman,' too,--not even the best sailorman of the 'crowd'! ... ("here, boss, what was that job ye was talkin' about? i _guess_ there ain't nuthin' i can't do w'en i sets my 'ead to it!") soon the 'crimps,' ever ready at hand, were off to the ship, hot-foot, for bags and baggage! those who still held by the ship were visited at all hours, and the comings and goings of the tempters were not even checked by the mate. the dinner hour was the most opportune time for them, for then they had the miserable meal to point to in scorn. "call yewrselves min," they said, "a sittin' hyar at yer lobscouse an' dawg biscuits, an' forty dallars a month jest waitin' t' be picked up? ... forty dallars ... an' no more graft 'n a boy kin dew! darn it, i wouldn't give that mess to me dawg! ... a fine lot yees are, fer sure! ain't got no heart t' strike aout f'r decent grub 'n a soft job.... forty dallars, i guess! ... is thar a 'man' among ye? ... chip in yewr dunnage an' step ashore, me bucks! a soft job in a free country, an' no damn lime juice mate t' sweat ye araound!" the 'spell worked'! within a fortnight of our arrival most of the men who had signed with us had, '_deserted. left no effects_,' entered against their names in our official log. soon the whalers were at sea, standing to the north, and dutch john shorn of his proud position, was shipped as cook on a hard-case new yorker! the bos'un and old martin were still with us, and we had welsh john and houston safe in the hospital--about the only place in 'frisco where no healthy 'crimp' could gain admission. for want of better game, perhaps, the boarding-masters paid some attention to the half-deck, but we had, in the chaplain of the british seamen's institute, a muscular mentor to guide us aright. from the first he had won our hearts by his ability to put browne (our fancy man) under the ropes in three rounds. it was said that, in the absence of a better argument, he was able and willing to turn his sleeves up to the stiffest 'crimp' on the front. be that as it may, there was no doubt about his influence with brassbounders in the port. desertions among us--that had formerly been frequent--were rare enough when james fell came, swinging his stick, to see what was doing on the front! with the crew gone, we found matters improved with us. the mate, having no 'crowd' to rush around, was inclined to take things easy, and, when sober, was quite decent. although but a few weeks in the country, we were now imbued with the spirit of freedom; learned to 'guess' and 'reckon'; called tuesday 'toosday'; and said "no, sir-rr!" when emphatic denial was called for. eccles even tried the democratic experiment of omitting his "sir" when answering the mate. disastrous result! seamanship was shelved, for a time at least, and we were employed like longshore labourers on the ship's hull. the rust and barnacles of our outward passage had to be chipped off and scraped, and we had more than enough of the din of chipping hammers and the stench of patent compositions. one day burke discovered his elder brother's name painted on the piles of the wharf, and when he told us with pride of the painter's position, 'captain of a big tramp steamer,' we were consoled by the thought that we were only going through the mill as others had done before us. when the painting was finished we had the satisfaction of knowing that our barque was not the least comely of the many tall ships that lined the wharves. at night, when work was over, we had the freedom of the city. it was good to be on the beach again. money was scarce with us, and in a place where five cents is the smallest currency, we found our little stock go fast, if not far. if luxuries were beyond our reach, at least the lighted streets were ours, and it was with a delightful sense of freedom from ship discipline that we sauntered from 'sailor-town' to 'china-town,' or through the giant thoroughfares that span the heart of the city itself. everything was new, and fine, and strange. the simple street happenings, the busy life and movements, the glare and gaudery of the lights, were as curious to us as if we had never landed before. 'sailor-town'--the water front, was first beyond the gangway. here were the boarding-houses and garish saloons, the money-changers' and shoddy shops. the boarding-houses were cleaner than the dinginess of an old-world seaport would allow, and the proprietors who manned their doorways looked genial monuments of benevolence. on occasions they would invite us in--"come right in, boyees, an' drink the health o' th' haouse," was the word of it--but we had heard of the _shanghai passage_, and were chary of their advances. often our evident distrust was received with boisterous laughter. "saay," they would shout. "_yew_ needn't shy, me sucking bloody nelsons! it's little use _yew_ 'ud be aboard a packet!" ... "light--the--binnacle, bo--oy!" was another salutation for brassbounders, but that came usually from a lady at an upper window, and there would be a sailorman there--out of sight, as prompters properly are. at the clothing shop doors, the jews were ever on the alert for custom. a cheap way of entertainment was to linger for a moment at their windows, pointing and admiring. isaac would be at us in a moment, feeling the texture of our jackets with his bony fingers and calling on the whole street to witness that it was "a biece 'f damn good shduff!" then it would be, "gome into de shop, misdur! i guess i god de tingsh you vannt!" after we had spent a time examining and pricing his scent-bottles and spring garters, and hand-painted braces and flowered velvet slippers and 'green river' sheath-knives, we thought it but right to tell him that levy eckstein of montgomery street was our man; that our captain would pay no bills for us but his! with levy our business was purely financial; cent, per cent, transactions in hard cash. he had contracted with the old man to supply us with clothing, but, though our bills specified an outfit of substantial dry goods, we were always able to carry away the parcels in our smallest waistcoat pocket. "one dollar for two," was levy's motto. if his terms were hard, his money was good, and, excepting for the old man's grudging advances, we had no other way of 'raising the wind.' in 'china-town' we found much to astonish us. we could readily fancy ourselves in far cathay. there was nothing in the narrow streets and fancily carved house fronts to suggest an important city in the states. quaint shop signs and curious swinging lanterns; weird music and noises in the 'theatres'; uncanny smells from the eating-houses; the cat-like sound of china talk--all jumbled together in a corner of the most western city of the west! the artisans in their little shops, working away far into the night, interested us the most, and some of our little money went to purchase small wares for the home folks. it was here that munro bought that long 'back-scratcher'; the one he took home to his father! sometimes, when we could induce our burke to make up to one of his compatriots (the blue-coated, six-foot fenians who keep 'frisco under martial law), we saw something of the real, the underground china-town. it was supposed to be a hazardous excursion, but, beyond treading the dark, forbidding alleys, haunts of 'li-johns' and 'highbinders,' we had no sight of the sensational scenes that others told us of. we saw opium dens, and were surprised at the appearance of the smokers. instead of the wasted and debauched beings, of whom we had read, we found stout johns and lean johns, lively johns and somnolent johns, busy and idle--but all looking as if they regarded life as a huge joke. they laughed amiably at our open mouths, and made remarks to us. these, of course, we were unable to understand, but at least we could grin, and that seemed to be the answer expected. when our guide took us to free air again, and we found ourselves far from where we had entered, we could readily 'take it from michael' that the underground passages offered harbour to all the queer fellows of the city. with the night drawing on, and a reminder in our limbs that we had done a hard day's work, we would go to clark's, in kearney, a coffee-house famed among brassbounders. there we would refresh and exchange ship news with 'men' from other ships. clark himself--a kindly person with a hint of the doric amidst his 'amurricanisms'--was always open to reason in the middle of the week, and we never heard that he had lost much by his 'accommodations.' when we returned to the streets, the exodus from the theatres would be streaming towards cars and ferry. it was time we were on board again. often there would be a crowd of us bound for the wharves. it was a custom to tramp through 'sailor-town' together. on the way we would cheer the 'crimps' up by a stave or two of 'mariners of england.' x the difficulty with the 'torreador's' in the half-deck differences, sometimes leading to fisticuffs, were of daily occurrence; but, considering that we were boys, drawn from all parts, each with his town or county's claim to urge, we dwelt very happily together. though our barque was scotch, we were only two strong, and at times it was very difficult to keep our end up, and impress our southron shipmates with a proper sense of our national importance. the voice of reason was not always pacific, and on these occasions we could but do our best. our jones (of yorkshire) was of a quarrelsome nature; most of our bickers were of his seeking, and to him our strained relations with the 'torreador's' was mainly due. the _torreador_ had berthed next to us at mission wharf, and by the unwritten laws of the sea and the customs of the port of san francisco, her crew should have fraternised with us; from the mates (who could exchange views on the sizes of rope and the chances of promotion) down to the younger apprentices (who should have visited one another to 'swap' ship's biscuit). with other ships matters might have been arranged, but the _torreador_ was a crack ship, and flew the blue ensign, even on week-days; her captain was an f.r.a.s., and her boys (whose parents paid heavy premiums for the glitter) wore brass buttons to everyday work, and were rated as midshipmen, no less! the day after her arrival some of them were leaning over the rail looking at our barque, and acquaintance might have been made then and there, but jones (who fancied himself a wit) spoiled the chances of an understanding by asking them if the stewardess had aired their socks properly that morning. such a question aroused great indignation, and for over a fortnight we were 'low bounders,' and they 'kid-glove sailors.' matters went ill between us, and our ships were too close together to ignore one another altogether. the 'torreador's' contented themselves with looking smarter and more aggressively clean than ever, and with casting supercilious glances all over us when they saw us chipping and scraping the rust off our vessel's topside--(they never got such jobs to do, as their old man was too busy cramming them up with "sumners" and "deviation curves"). we replied by making stage asides to one another on the methods of 'coddling sickly sailors,' and jones even went the length of arraying himself in a huge paper collar when he was put over-side to paint ship. a brilliant idea, he thought it, until the mate noticed him, and made his ears tingle till sundown. the 'torreador's' kept a gangway watch, and one of his duties seemed to be to cross the deck at intervals and inspect our barque, crew, and equipment in a lofty manner. he would even (if his mate--the chief officer, they called him--wasn't looking) put his hands in his beckets and his tongue in his cheek. at first we greeted his appearance with exaggerated respect; we would stand to attention and salute him in style; but latterly, his frequent appearances (particularly as he always seemed to be there when our mate was recounting our misdeeds, and explaining what lazy, loafing, ignorant, and 'sodgering' creatures he had to handle) got on our nerves. matters went on in this way for over a week, and everybody was getting tired of it; not only on our ship, for one day we caught a 'torreador' openly admiring our collection of sharks' tails which we had nailed to the jib-boom. when he found himself observed he blushed and went about some business, before we had a chance to ask him aboard to see the sharks' backbones--fashioned into fearsome walking-sticks. up town we met them occasionally, but no one seemed inclined to talk, and a 'barley' was as far away as ever. if we went to the institute they were to be seen lolling all over the sofas in the billiard-room, smoking cigarettes, when, as everyone knows, a briar pipe is the only thing that goes decently with a brass-bound cap, tilted at the right angle. they did not seem to make many friends, and their talk among themselves was of matters that most apprentices ignore. one night jones heard them rotting about 'great circle sailing,' and 'ice to the south'ard of the horn,' and subjects like that, when, properly, they ought to be criticising their old man, and saying what an utter duffer of a second mate they had. jones was wonderfully indignant at such talk, and couldn't sleep at night for thinking of all the fine sarcastic remarks he might have made, if he had thought of them at the time. when our barque, by discharge of cargo, was risen in the water, we were put to send the royal-yards down on deck, and took it as a great relief from our unsailorly harbour jobs. the 'torreador's,' with envious eyes, watched us reeving off the yard ropes. they had a naval reserve crew aboard to do these things, and their seamanship was mostly with a model mast in the half-deck. they followed all the operations with interest, and when hansen and eccles got the main royal yard on deck, in record time, they looked sorry that they weren't at the doing. "sumners" and "deviation curves" are all very well in their way, but a seamanlike job aloft, on a bright morning, is something stirring to begin the day with. a clear head to find one's way, and a sharp hand to unbend the gear and get the yard canted for lowering; then, with a glance at the fore (where fumblers are in difficulties with their lifts), the prideful hail to the deck, "all clear, aloft! lower away!" no wonder the 'torreador's' were not satisfied with their model mast! some days later we got another chance to show them how things were done aloft, and even if we were not so smart at it as we might have been, still it was a fairly creditable operation for some boys and a sailorman. our main topgal'nmast was found to be 'sprung' at the heel, and one fine morning we turned-to to send the yard and mast down. this was rather a big job for us who had never handled but royal-yards before; but under the able instructions of the mate and bo'sun, we did our work without any serious digression from the standards of seamanship. the mate wondered what was making us so uncommon smart and attentive, but when he caught sight of the 'torreador's' watching our operations with eager eyes, he understood, and even spurred us on by shouting, "_mister!_" (the boys of the _torreador_ were thus addressed by their officers) "_mister_ hansen, please lay out 'n the topsl-yard, 'n unhook that bloody brace!" at dusk the 'torreador's' had stiff necks with looking aloft so much, and when we knocked off, with the yard and mast on deck, and the gear stopped-up, they went below and hid their elaborate model mast under a bunk in the half-deck. soon after this a better feeling began. eccles met one of the 'torreador's' up-town, and an acquaintance was made. they spent the evening together, and he learned that the other chap came from near his place. [it was really about fifty miles from there, but what's a fifty miles when one is fourteen thousand miles from home?] the next evening two of them came across. "to see the ship," they said. they brought briar pipes with them, which was rather more than we could reasonably have expected. thereafter nightly visits were the rule, and we became as thick as thieves. we took them to our bosom, and told them of many fresh ways to rob the store-room, though they had no need to go plundering, theirs being a well-found ship. we even went the length of elaborating a concerted and, as we afterwards found, unworkable scheme to get even with a certain policeman who had caught our munro a clip on the arm with his club when that youngster was singing "rule britannia" along the water front at half-past midnight. in the evenings our respective commanders could be seen leaning across their poop rails, engaged in genial conversation, addressing one another as "captain" in the middle of each sentence with true nautical punctiliousness. once the 'torreador's' old man seemed to be propounding his views on the training of apprentices with great earnestness. what he said we could not hear, but our old man replied that he had work enough "---- to get the young 'sodgers' to learn to splice a rope, cross a royal-yard, and steer the ship decently, let alone the trouble of keeping them out of the store-room," and that he'd "---- nae doot but they'd learn navigation ---- in guid time!" the elder boys went picnicing on the sundays to cliff house or saucilito; the second voyagers played team billiards together at the institute, and proposed one another to sing at the impromptu concerts; while the young ones--those who had only been a dog-watch at sea--made themselves sick smoking black tobacco and talking 'ship-talk' in the half-deck. thus we fraternised in earnest, and when the _torreador_ left for port costa to load for home we bent our best ensign (though it was on a week-day), and cheered her out of the berth. next week a norwegian barque took up her vacant place. she had come out from swansea in ninety-eight days, and was an object of interest for a while. soon, though, we grew tired of the daily hammering of 'stock-fish' before breakfast, and the sight of her mate starting the windmill pump when the afternoon breeze came away. we longed for the time when we, too, would tow up to port costa, for we had a little matter of a race for ship's gigs to settle with the 'torreador's' and were only waiting for our captains to take it up and put silk hats on the issue. xi the 'convalescent' welsh john was discharged from hospital at ten on a sunday morning; before dark he was locked up, charged with riotous behaviour and the assaulting of one hans maartens, a water front saloon keeper. a matter of strong drink, a weak head, and a maudlin argument, we thought; but hansen saw the hand of the 'crimps' in the affair, and when we heard that sailormen were scarce (no ships having arrived within a fortnight), we felt sure that they were counting on john's blood-money from an outward-bound new yorker. "ye see, john hadn't money enough t' get drunk on," he said. "we saw him in hospital last sunday, an' munro gave him a 'half' to pay his cars down t' th' ship when he came out. half-dollars don't go far in 'sailor-town.' i guess these sharks have bin primin' him up t' get 'm shipped down th' bay. the _j. b. grace_ has been lyin' at anchor off the presidio, with her 'blue peter' up this last week or more, an' nobody 's allowed aboard 'r ashore but daly an' his gang. maartens is in with 'em, an' the whole thing 's a plant to shanghai john. drunk or no' drunk, john 's seen th' game, an' plugged th' dutchman for a start." as it was on munro's account that he had come by the injuries that put him in hospital, we felt more than a passing interest in john's case, and decided to get him clear of the 'crimps' if we could. we knew he would be fined, for saloon-keepers and boarding-masters are persons of weight and influence in 'frisco town, and, although john had nearly eight months' pay due to him, it would be considered a weakness, a sort of confession of jack's importance, for the captain to disburse on his account. it being the beginning of a week, we could only muster a few dollars among us, so we applied to james peden, a man of substance on the front, for assistance and advice. james was from dundee. after a varied career as seaman, whaleman, boarding-house keeper, gold seeker, gravedigger, and beach-comber, he had taken to decent ways and now acted as head-foreman to a firm of stevedores. he was an office-bearer of the local scottish society, talked braid scots on occasions (though his command of yankee slang when stimulating his men in the holds was finely complete), and wore a tartan neck-tie that might aptly be called a gathering of the clans. to james we stated our case when he came aboard to see that his 'boy-ees made things hum.' it was rather a delicate matter to do this properly, as we had to leave it to inference that james's knowledge of these matters was that of a reputable foreman stevedore, and not that of a quondam boarding-master whose exploits in the 'crimping' business were occasionally referred to when men talked, with a half-laugh, of shady doings. it was nicely done, though, and james, recalling a parallel case that occurred to a man, "whom he knew," was pessimistic. "weel, lauds, ah guess joan welsh 'r welsh joan 'll be ootward bound afore the morn's nicht. they'll pit 'm up afore judge kelly, a bluidy fenian, wha'll gie 'm 'ten dollars or fourteen days' fur bein' a british sailorman alane. pluggin' a dutchman 's naethin'; it's th' 'rid rag' that kelly's doon oan. ah ken the swine; he touched me twinty dollars fur gie'n a winchman a clout i' the lug--an ill-faured dago wi' a haun' on 's knife. ah guess there's nae chance for a lime-juicer up-bye, an' ye may take it that yer man 'll be fined. noo, withoot sayin' ony mair aboot it, ye ken fine that yer captain 's no' gaun tae pey 't. wi' nae sicht o' a charter an' th' chances o' 's ship bein' laid bye fur a whilie, he'll no' be wantin' mair men aboard, 'n ahm thinkin' he'll no' be sorry tae see th' last o' this joan welsh. this is whaur daly 'll come in. he'll offer t' pey th' fine, an' yer man, wi' seeven weeks' hospital ahint 'm, an' the prospeck o' a fortnicht's jile afore 'm, 'll jump at th' chance o' a spree. daly 'll pey th' fine, gae yer man a nicht's rope fur a maddenin' drunk, an' ship 'm on th' new-yorker i' th' mornin'. there's nae help for't; that's th' wey they dae things oot here; unless maybe ye'd pey th' fine yersels?" this was our opportunity, and munro asked for a loan till next week. he explained the state of our purses and the uselessness of applying to the captain so early in the week; james was dubious. munro urged the case in homely doric; james, though pleased to hear the old tongue, was still hesitating when munro skilfully put a word of the gaelic here and there. a master move! james was highly flattered at our thinking he had the gaelic (though never a word he knew), and when munro brought a torrent of liquid vowels into the appeal, james was undone. the blood of the standard bearer of the honourable order of the scottish clans coursed proudly through his veins, and, readjusting his tartan necktie, he parted with fifteen dollars on account. now a difficulty arose. it being a working day, none of us would get away to attend the court. we thought of old martin, the night watchman. as he slept soundly during three-fifths of his night watch, it was no hardship for the old 'shellback' to turn out, but he wasn't in the best of tempers when we wakened him and asked his assistance. "yew boys thinks nuthin' ov roustin' a man out, as 'as bin on watch awl night." (martin was stretched out like a jib downhaul, sound asleep on the galley floor, when we had come aboard on sunday night). "thinks nuthin' at awl ov callin' a man w'en ye ain't got no damn business to.... w'en ah was a boy, it was ropesendin' fer scratchin' a match in fo'cas'le, 'n hell's-hidin' fer speakin' in a dago's whisper!"--martin sullenly stretched out for his pipe, ever his first move on waking--"nowadays boys is men an' men 's old.---- w'y"--martin waved his little black pipe accusingly--"taint only t' other day w'en that there jones lays out 'n th' tawps'l yardarm afore me 'n mittens th' bloody earin' 's if awl th' sailormen wos dead!" his indignation was great, his growls long and deep, but at last he consented to do our errand--"tho' ain't got no use for that damned welshman meself!" arrayed in his pilot cloth suit, with a sailorlike felt hat perched rakish on his hard old head, old martin set out with our fifteen dollars in his pocket, and his instructions, to pay john's fine and steer clear of the 'crimps.' we had misgivings as to the staunchness of our messenger, but we had no other, and it was with some slight relief that we watched him pass the nearest saloon with only a wave of his arm to the bar-keeper and tramp sturdily up the street towards the city. at dinner-time neither john nor old martin had rejoined the ship. we thought, with misgiving, that a man with fifteen dollars in his becket would be little likely to remember the miserly meal provided by the ship, and even browne (the mark tapley of our half-deck) said he shouldn't be surprised if the 'crimps' had got both john and old martin (to say nothing of our fifteen dollars). as the day wore on we grew anxious, but at last we got news of the absentees when peden passed, on his way out to the bay. the sentimental scotsman of the morning had thought a lot after his liberal response to munro's appeal, and had called round at the police court to see that the affair was genuine. he was now in his right senses; a man of rock, not to be moved even by a mention of burns's 'hielan' mary,' his tartan tie had slipped nearly out of sight beneath the collar of his coat, and the hard, metallic twang of his voice would have exalted a right 'down-easter.' "yewr man was 'up' w'en ah got raound," he said, "up before kelly, 's ah reckoned. ah didn't hear the chyarge, but thyar was th' dutchman with 's head awl bandaged up--faked up, ah guess. th' jedge ses t' th' prisoner, 'did yew strike this man?' yewr man answers, 'inteed to goodness, yer 'anner, he looks 's if somebody 'd struck 'm!' wi' that a laugh wint raound, an' yewr man tells 's story." (james's doric was returning to him, and the twang of his "u's" became less pronounced.) "he had bin in hospital, he said, wasn't very strong--here th' dutchman looks up, wonderin' like--had ta'en a drap o' drink wi' a man he met in 'sailor-town.' there wis talk aboot a joab ashore, an' they were in mertin's tae see aboot it, an' yer man sees this mertin pit somethin' i' th' drink. he didna like the looks o't, he said, so he ups an' gies mertin yin on th' heid wi' a 'schooner' gless. that wis a' he kent aboot it, an' th' dutchman begood his yarn. oot o' his kind-hertedness, he'd gie'n th' pris'ner a gless or twa, fower at th' maist, when th' thankless villain ups an' ca's 'm names an' belts 'm on th' heid wi' a gless. 'pit drugs i' th' drink?' naethin' o' th' kind! he wis jist takin' a fly oot o't wi' the haunle o' a spune. "a bad business, says kelly, a bad business! there's faur too miny av thim british sailormin makin' trouble on th' front. it's tin dallars, says he, tin dallars 'r fourteen days! "ah saw daly git up frae th' sate an' he his a long confab wi' yer man, but jist then yer auld watchman tramps in, an' efter speirin' aboot he ups an' peys th' fine, an' they let yer man oot. ah seen th' twa o' them gang aff wi' daly, an' ah couldna verra weel ha'e onythin' tae dae wi' them when he wis bye." this was james's news; he was not surprised to learn that they had not returned to the ship, and, as he passed on, on his way to the jetty steps, muttered, "weel, it's a gey peety they had that five dollars ower much, for ah doot they'll baith be under th' 'blue peter' before th' morn's mornin'." when we knocked off for the day we were soon ashore looking for the wanderers, and early found plain evidence that they had been celebrating john's 'convalescence' and release. an italian orange-seller whom we met had distinct memory of two seafaring gentlemen purchasing oranges and playing 'bowls' with them in the gutter of a busy street; a jewish outfitter and his assistants were working well into the night, rearranging oilskins and sea-boots on the ceiling of a disordered shop, and a scandinavian dame, a vendor of peanuts, had a tale of strange bargainings to tell. unable to find them, we returned to the ship. one of us had to keep martin's watch, and the mate was already on the track of the affair with threatenings of punishment for the absent watchman. about ten we heard a commotion on the dock side, and looked over to see the wanderers, accompanied by all the 'larrikins' of 'sailor-town,' making for the ship. two policemen in the near background were there to see that no deliberate breach-of-the-peace took place. martin, hard-headed old martin, who stood drink better than the welshman, was singing '_bound away to the west'ard in th' dreadnought we go_' in the pipingest of trebles, and welsh john, hardly able to stand, was defying the dutch, backed by numberless judge kellys, and inviting them to step up, take off their jackets and come on. xii on the sacramento after our cargo was discharged we left mission wharf for an anchorage in the bay, and there--swinging flood and ebb--we lay in idleness. there were many ships in the anchorage, and many more laid up at martinez and saucilito, for the year's crop was not yet to hand, and masters were hanging back for a rise in freights. there we lay, idle ships, while the summer sun ripened the crops and reared the golden grain for the harvest--the harvest that we waited to carry round the roaring horn to europe. daily we rowed the old man ashore, and when he returned from the agent's office, we could tell by the way he took a request (say, for a small advance "to buy a knife") that our ship was still unchartered, and likely to be so for some time. to a convenient wharf the gigs of each ship came every morning, and from then to untold hours of the night the jetty steps were well worn by comings and goings. some of the captains (the man-driving ones, who owed no man a moment) used to send their boats back to the ship as soon as they landed, but a number kept theirs at the wharf in case messages had to be sent off. we usually hung around at the jetty, where there were fine wooden piles that we could carve our barque's name on when our knives were sharp enough. with the boats' crews from other ships we could exchange news and opinions, and quarrel over points in seamanship. those amongst us who had often voyaged to 'frisco, and others who had been long in the port, were looked upon as 'oracles,' and treated with considerable respect. the _manydown_ had been sixteen months in 'frisco, and her boys could easily have passed muster as americans. they chewed sweet tobacco ("malassus kyake," they called it), and swore spanish oaths with freedom and abandon. their gig was by far the finest and smartest at the jetty, and woe betide the unwitting 'bow' who touched her glossy varnished side with his boat-hook. for him a wet swab was kept in readiness, and their stroke, a burly ruffian, was always willing to attend to the little affair if it went any farther. our captains came down in batches, as a rule, and there would be great clatter of oars and shipping of rowlocks as their boats hauled alongside to take them off. rivalry was keen, and many were the gallant races out to the anchorage, with perhaps a little sum at stake just for the honour of the ship. we had about a month of this, and it was daily becoming more difficult to find a decently clear space on the piles on which to carve '_florence_, of glasgow.' one day the old man returned at an unusual hour, and it was early evident that something was afoot; he was too preoccupied to curse hansen properly for being away from the boat on business of his own, and, instead of criticising our stroke and telling us what rotten rowers we were, as was his wont, he busied himself with letters and papers. we put off to the ship in haste, and soon the news went round that we were going up-river to port costa, to load for home. old joe niven was the medium through whom all news filtered from the cabin, and from him we had the particulars even down to the amount of the freight. we felt galled that a german barque, which had gone up a week before, was getting two and twopence-ha'penny more; but we took consolation in the thought of what a fine crow we would have over the 'torreador's,' who were only loading at forty-five and sixpence, direct to hull. on board we only mustered hands enough to do the ordinary harbour work, and raising the heavy anchors was a task beyond us; so at daybreak next morning we rowed round the ships to collect a crew. the other captains had promised our old man a hand, here and there, and when we pulled back we had men enough, lusty and willing, to kedge her up a hill. there was mist on the water when we started to 'clear hawse'--the thick, clammy mist that comes before a warm day. about us bells clattered on the ships at anchor, and steamers went slowly by with a hiss of waste steam that told of a ready hand on the levers. overhead, the sky was bright with the promise of a glorious day, but with no mind to lift the pall from the water, it looked ill for a ready passage. we had four turns of a foul hawse to clear (the track of a week's calms), and our windlass was of a very ancient type, but our scratch crew worked well and handy, and we were ready for the road when the screw tug _escort_ laid alongside and lashed herself up to our quarter. they tow that way on the pacific coast--the wily ones know the advantage of having a ship's length in front of them to brush away the 'snags.' a light breeze took the mist ''way down under,' and we broke the weather anchor out with the rousing chorus of an old sea song: old storm-along, he's dead a-an' gone, (_to my way-ay, storm-alo-ong;_) o-old storm-along, he's dead a-an' gone, (_aye! aye! aye! mister storm-along._) some friends of the captain had boarded us from the tug, eager for the novelty of a trip up-river in a real cape horner. one elderly lady was so charmed by our 'chantey,' that she wanted the captain to make us sing it over again. she wondered when he told her that that was one thing he could not do. with the rare and privileged sight of frocks on the poop, there was a lot of talk about who should go to the wheel. jones worked himself into it, and laid aft in a clean rig when the old man called for a hand to the wheel. there he made the most of it, and hung gracefully over the spokes with his wrists turned out to show the tattoo marks. the skipper of the tug came aboard our ship to pilot up the river, and he directed the movements of his own vessel from our poop deck. we passed under the guns of rocky alcatraz, and stood over to the wooded slopes and vineyards of saucilito, where many 'laid-up' ships were lying at the buoys, with upper yards down and huge ballast booms lashed alongside. here we turned sharply to the norrard and bore up the broad bosom of sacramento--the river that sailormen make songs about, the river that flows over a golden bed. dull, muddy water flowing swiftly seawards; straight rip in the channel, and a race where the high banks are; a race that the greek fishermen show holy pictures to, when the springs are flowing! with us, the tide was light enough, and our pilot twisted her about with the skill and nonchalance of a master hand. one of our passengers, a young woman who had enthused over everything, from the shark's tail on the spanker-boom end ("waal--i never!") to the curl of the bo'sun's whiskers ("jest real sweet!"), seemed greatly interested at the frequent orders to the steersman. "sa-ay, pilot!" she said, "ah guess yew must know every rock 'bout hyar?" "wa-al, no, miss, ah kyan't say 's ah dew," answered palinurus; "but ah reckon tew know whar th' deep wa-r-r is!" as we approached the shallows at the head of san pablo bay, the old man expressed an opinion as to the lack of water, and the pilot again provided a jest for the moment. "oh, that's awl right, cap.; she's only drawin' twelve feet, 'n ah kin tak' 'r over a damp meadow 'n this trim!" we met a big stern-wheel ferry bound down from benicia with a load of freight wagons. she looked like an important junction adrift. afterwards we saw a full-rigged ship towing down, and when near we made her out to be the _torreador_, ready for sea. this was a great disappointment to us, for we had looked forward to being with her at port costa. now, our long-dreamt-of boat-race was off (with our boat's crew in first-class trim, too!), and amid the cheering as we met and passed on, we heard a shrill and unmistakable '_cock-a-doodle-doo!_' which we remembered with indignation for many a day. tall and stately she looked, with her flags a-peak and everything in trim: yards all aloft, and squared to an inch and her sails rolled up without crease like the dummy covers on the booms of a king's yacht. a gallant ship, and a credit to the flag she flew. we passed many floating tree trunks and branches in the river. the snows had come away from the sierras, and there was spate on sacramento. we rode over one of the 'snags' with a shudder, and all our jack-easy pilot said was, "guess that'll take some 'f th' barnacles off 'r battum, bettr'r a week's sojerin' with the patent scrubber!" all the same he took very good care that his own craft rode free of obstruction. rounding a bend, we came in sight of our rendezvous, but port costa showed little promise from the water-side, though the sight of our old friends, the _crocodile_, the _peleus_, and the _drumeltan_, moored at the wharf cheered us. two or three large mills, with a cluster of white houses about, composed the township; a large raft-like ferry which carried the 'frisco mail trains bodily across the river contributed to its importance, but there was nothing else about the place to excite the remark of even an idle 'prentice boy. a little way up-stream was a town, indeed; a town of happy memories. benicia, with its vineyards and fruit gardens, and the low, old houses, alone perhaps in all california to tell of spain's dominion. a town of hearty, hospitable folk, unaffected by the hustle of larger cities; a people of peace and patience, the patience of tillers of the vine. off martinez, where the river is wide, we canted ship, and worked back to port costa against the tide. we made fast at the ballast wharf, and our borrowed crew, having completed their job, laid aft to receive the captain's blessing, and a silver dollar to put in their pockets. then they boarded the tug, and were soon on their way back to 'frisco. when jones came from the wheel, he had great tales to tell of the attentions the ladies had paid him. he plainly wished us to understand that he'd made an impression, but we knew that was not the way of it, for old niven had told eccles that the pretty one was engaged to be married to the ship's butcher, down in 'frisco, a fairy dutchman of about fifteen stone six. xiii homeward in a sunday morning, while benicia's bells were chiming for early mass, we cast off from the wharf at port costa and towed down sacramento. though loaded and in sea trim, we were still short of a proper crew, so we brought up in 'frisco bay to complete our complement. days passed and the boarding-masters could give us no more than two 'rancheros' (who had once seen the sea from sonoma heights), and a young coloured man, a sort of a seaman, who had just been discharged from oakland jail. the old man paid daily visits to the consul, who could do nothing--there were no men. he went to the boarding-houses, and had to put up with coarse familiarity, to drink beer with the scum of all nations, to clap scoundrels on the back and tell them what sly dogs they were. it was all of no use. the 'crimps' were crippled--there were no men. "wa-al, cap.," daly would say to the old man's complaint, "what kin we dew? i guess we kyan't make men, same's yewr bo'sin 'ud make spunyarn.... ain't bin a darned soul in this haouse fer weeks as cud tell a clew from a crojeck. th' ships is hangin' on ter ther men like ole blue! captens is a-given' em chickens an' soft-tack, be gosh, an' dollars fer 'a drunk' on sundays.... when they turns 'em to, it's, 'naow, lads, me boys! when yew'r ready, me sons!' ... a month a-gone it was, 'out, ye swine! turn aout, damn ye, an' get a move on!' ... ah, times is bad, cap.; times is damn bad! i ain't fingered an advance note since th' _dharwar_ sailed--a fortnight ago! hard times, i guess, an' we kyan't club 'em aboard, same's we use ter!" a hopeless quest, indeed, looking for sailormen ashore; but ships were expected, and when the wind was in the west the old man would be up on deck at daybreak, peering out towards the golden gate, longing for the glad sight of an inward bounder, that would bring the sorely needed sailors in from the sea. a week passed, a week of fine weather, with two days of a rattling nor'west wind that would have sent us on our way, free of the land, with a smother of foam under the bows. all lost to us, for no ships came in, and we lay at anchor, swinging ebb and flood--a useless hull and fabric, without a crew to spread the canvas and swing the great yards! every morning the mate would put the windlass in gear and set everything in readiness for breaking out the anchor; but when we saw no tug putting off, and no harbour cat-boats tacking out from the shore with sailors' bags piled in the bows, he would undo the morning's work and put us to 'stand-by' jobs on the rigging. there were other loaded ships in as bad a plight as we. the _drumeltan_ was eight hands short of her crew of twenty-six, and the captain of the _peleus_ was considering the risk of setting off for the horn, short-handed by three. sailors' wages were up to thirty and thirty-five dollars a month, and at that (nearly the wage of a chief mate of a 'limejuicer') there were no proper able seamen coming forward. even the 'hobos' and ne'er-do-weels, who usually flock at 'frisco on the chance of getting a ship's passage out of the country, seemed to be lying low. one evening the ship _blackadder_ came in from sea. she was from the colonies; had made a long passage, and was spoken of as an extra 'hungry' ship--and her crew were in a proper spirit of discontent. she anchored near us, and the old man gazed longingly at the fine stout colonials who manned her. he watched the cat-boats putting off from the shore, and smiled at the futile attempts of the ship's captain and mates to keep the 'crimps' from boarding. if one was checked at the gangway, two clambered aboard by the head, and the game went merrily on. "where's she from, mister?" said the old man to the mate who stood with him. "did ye hear?" "newcastle, new south wales, i heard," said mr. hollins. "sixty-five days out, the butcher said; him that came off with the stores this morning." "sixty-five, eh! thirty o' that for a 'dead horse,' an' there'll be about six pound due the men; a matter o' four or five pound wi' slop chest an' that! they'll not stop, mister, damn the one o' them' ... ah, there they go; there they go!" sailors' bags were being loaded into the cat-boats. it was the case of: _the grub was bad, an' th' wages low,_ _an' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!_ "good business for us, anyway," said the old man, and told the mate to get his windlass ready for 'heaving up' in the morning. alas! he left the other eager shipmasters out of his count. the captain of the _drumeltan_ raised the 'blood-money' to an unheard-of sum, and two days later towed out to sea, though the wind was w.s.w. beyond the straits--a 'dead muzzler'! a big american ship--the _j. b. flint_--was one of the fleet of 'waiters.' she was for china. 'bully' nathan was captain of her (a man who would have made the starkest of pirates, if he had lived in pirate times), and many stories of his and his mates' brutality were current at the front. no seaman would sign in the _flint_ if he had the choice; but the choice lay with the boarding-master when 'bully' nathan put up the price. "give me gravediggers or organ-grinders, boys, if ye kyan't get sailormen," he was reported to have said. "anything with two hands an' feet. i guess i'm jan--k.--nathan, and they'll be sailormen or 'stiffs' before we reach aout!" no one knew where she got a crew, but while the britishers were awaiting semi-lawful service, jan k. slipped out through the night, getting the boarding-house runners to set sail for him before they left the _flint_ with her crew of drugged longshoremen. at the end of the week we got three more men. granger, a liverpool man, who had been working in the union ironworks, and, "sick o' th' beach," as he put it, wanted to get back to sea again. pat hogan, a merry-faced irishman, who signed as cook (much to the joy of houston, who had been the 'food spoiler' since mcewan cleared). the third was a lad, cutler, a runaway apprentice, who had been working ashore since his ship had sailed. it was said that he had been 'conducting' a tramcar to his own immediate profit and was anxious. we were still six hands short, but, on the morning after a yankee clipper came in from new york, we towed out--with three prostrate figures lying huddled among the raffle in the fo'cas'le. * * * * * we raised the anchor about midnight and dawn found us creeping through the golden gate in the wake of a panting tug. there was nothing to see, for the morning mist was over the straits, and we had no parting view of the harbour. the siren on benita point roared a raucous warning as we felt our way past the head; and that, for us, was the last of the land. when we reached the schooner and discharged our pilot, it was still a 'clock calm,' and there was nothing for it but to tow for an offing, while we put the canvas on her in readiness for a breeze. at setting sail we were hard wrought, for we were still three hands short of our complement, and the three in the fo'cas'le were beyond hope by reason of drug and drink. the blocks and gear were stiff after the long spell in harbour. some of the new men were poor stuff. the mexican 'rancheros' were the worst; one was already sea-sick, and the other had a look of despair. they followed the 'crowd' about and made some show of pulling on the tail of the halyards, but they were very green, and it was easy to work off an old sailor's trick on them--'lighting up the slack' of the rope, thus landing them on the broad of their backs when they pulled--at nothing! we should have had pity for them, for they never even pretended to be seamen; but we were shorthanded in a heavy ship, and the more our arms ached, the louder grew our curses at their clumsy 'sodgerin'.' one of the three in the fo'cas'le 'came to' and staggered out on deck to see where he was. as he gazed about, dazed and bewildered, the mate, seeing him, shouted. "here, you! what's yer name?" the man passed his hand over his eyes and said, "hans." "well, hans, you git along to the tops'l halyards; damn smart's th' word!" with hands to his aching head, the man staggered drunkenly. everything was confusion to him. where was he? what ship? what voyage? the last he remembered would be setting the tune to a dago fiddler in a gaudy saloon, with lashings of drink to keep his feet a-tripping. now all was mixed and hazy, but in the mist one thing stood definite, a seamanlike order: "top'sl halyards! damn smart!" hans laid aft and tallied on with the crowd. here was a man who had been outrageously used. drugged--robbed--'shanghai-ed'! his head splitting with the foul drink, knowing nothing and no one; but he had heard a seamanlike order, so he hauled on the rope, and only muttered something about his last ship having a crab-winch for the topsail halyards! about noon we cast off the tug, but there was yet no wind to fill our canvas, and we lay as she had left us long after her smoke had vanished from the misty horizon. at one we were sent below for our first sea-meal. over our beef and potatoes we discussed our new shipmates and agreed that they were a weedy lot for a long voyage. in this our view was held by the better men in the fo'cas'le and, after dinner, the crew came aft in a body, headed by old martin, who said "as 'ow they wanted t' speak t' th' captin!" the old man was evidently prepared for a 'growl' from forward, and took a conciliatory stand. "well, men? what's the trouble? what have you to say?" he said. old martin took the lead with assurance. "i speaks for all 'ans, captin," he said.... "an' we says as 'ow this 'ere barque is short-'anded; we says as 'ow there's three empty bunks in th' fo'cas'le; an' two of th' 'ans wot's shipped ain't never bin aloft afore. we says as 'ow--with all doo respeck, captin--we wants yer t' put back t' port for a crew wot can take th' bloomin' packet round the 'orn, sir!" martin stepped back, having fired his shot, and he carefully arranged a position among his mates, so that he was neither in front of the 'men' or behind, where houston and the cook and the 'rancheros' stood. the old man leaned over the poop-rail and looked at the men collectively, with great admiration. he singled out no man for particular regard, but just admired them all, as one looks at soldiers on parade. he moved across the poop to see them at a side angle; the hands became hotly uncomfortable. "what's this i hear, men? what's this i hear?" ("as fine a crowd o' men as ever i shipped, mister," a very audible aside to the mate.) "what's this i hear? d'ye mean t' tell me that ye're afraid t' be homeward bound in a well-found ship, just because we're three hands short of a big 'crowd'?" "wot 'bout them wot ain't never been aloft afore," muttered martin, though in a somewhat subdued voice. "what about them?" said the old man. "what about them? why, a month in fo'cas'le alongside such fine seamen as i see before me" (here he singled out welsh john and some of the old hands for a pleasant smile), "alongside men that know their work." (welsh john and the others straightened themselves up and looked away to the horizon, as if the outcome of the affair were a matter of utter indifference to them.) "d'ye tell me a month alongside men that have sailed with me before won't make sailors of them, eh? _tchutt_, i know different.... sailors they'll be before we reach the horn." (here one of the potential 'sailors' ran to the ship's side, intent on an affair of his own.) the men turned to one another, sheepish. "ye know well enough we can't get men, even if we did put back to port," continued the old man. "they're no' t' be had! ye'll have to do yer best, and i'll see" (a sly wink to the mate) "that ye ain't put on. steward!" he gave an order that brought a grin of expectation to the faces of all ''ans,' and the affair ended. a wily one was our old jock! the mate was indignant at so much talk.... "a 'clip' under the ear for that martin," he said, "would have settled it without all that palaver"; and then he went on to tell the old man what happened when he was in the new bedford whalers. "aye, aye, man! aye, aye," said old jock, "i know the yankee game, mister--blood an' thunder an' belayin' pins an' six-ounce knuckle-dusters! gun play, too, an' all the rest of it. i know that game, mister, and it doesn't come off on my ship--no' till a' else has been tried." he took a turn or two up and down the poop, whistling for a breeze. out in the nor'-west the haze was lifting, and a faint grey line of ruffled water showed beyond the glassy surface of our encircling calm. "stan' by t' check th' yards, mister," he shouted, rubbing his hands.... "phe ... w! phe ... w! phe ... w! encouraging." xiv a trick at the wheel "keep 'r full an' by!" "full 'n by!" houston, relieved from the wheel, reports to the mate and goes forward, and i am left to stand my trick. we are in the south-east trades; a gentle breeze, and all sail set. aloft, the ghostly canvas stands out against a star-studded sky, and the masthead trucks sway in a stately circle as we heave on the light swell. she is steering easily, asking nothing but a spoke or two when a fluttering tremor on the weather leach of the royals shows that she is nearing the wind. the light in the binnacle is dim and spluttering, the glass smoke-blackened, and one can but see the points on the compass card. south sou'-west, she heads, swinging a little west at times, but making a good course. eccles, who should see to the lights, is stretched out on the wheel-box grating, resuming the thread of his slumbers; a muttered "'ware!" will bring him to his feet when the mate comes round; meantime, there are stars ahead to steer by, and the binnacle-lamp may wait. south of the line, at four in the morning, is a fine time to see the stars, if one be but properly awake. overhead, orion has reached his height, and is now striding towards the western horizon. the dog-star is high over the mizzen truck, and canopus, clear of the weather backstays, is a friend to a drowsy helmsman. the southern cross is clearing the sea-line, and above it many-eyed argus keeps watch over the pole. old friends, all of them, companions of many a night watch on leagues of lonely sea. a glow to the eastward marks where the dawn will break, and the fleecy trade-clouds about the horizon are already assuming shape and colour. there the stars are paling, but a planet, jupiter, perhaps, stands out in brilliance on the fast lightening sky. forward one bell is struck, and the look-out chants a long-drawn, "aw--ll's well!" the mate, who until now has been leaning lazily over the poop rail, comes aft, yawning whole-heartedly, as men do at sea. he peers into the dimly-lighted binnacle, turns his gaze to the sail aloft, sniffs the wind, and fixes me with a stern though drowsy eye. "h-mm! you, is it?" (i have but a modest reputation as a steersman.) "jest you keep 'r full now, or i'll teach ye steerin' in your watch below. keep 'r full, an' no damned shinnanikin!" he goes forward. 'shinnanikin' is a sailor word; it means anything at all; it may be made an adjective or a verb, or almost any part of speech, to serve a purpose or express a thought. here it meant that there was to be no fooling at the helm, that she was to be steered as by gunter himself. "full an' by," was the word. "full an' by, an' no damned shinnanikin!" right! the light grows, and the towering mass of canvas and cordage shows faint shadows here and there. the chickens in the quarter coops stir and cackle; a cock crows valiantly. eccles, sleeping his watch on the lee side of the poop, stirs uneasily, finds a need for movement, and tramps irresolutely up and down his appointed station. from somewhere out of sight the mate shouts an order, and he goes forward to take in the sidelights; dim and sickly they shine as he lifts them inboard. there is now some sign of life about the decks. a keen smell of burning wood and a glare from the galley show that the cook has taken up the day's duties. some men of the watch are already gathered about the door waiting for their morning coffee, and the 'idlers' (as the word is at sea), the steward, carpenter, and sailmaker, in various states of attire, are getting ready for their work. two bells marks five o'clock, and the crowd about the galley door grows impatient. the cook has a difficulty with his fire, and is behind time. "come on, 'doctor'!" shouts old martin; "get a move on yer! them tawps'l 'alyards is screechin' fer a pull, an' th' mate's got 'is heagle heye on that 'ere fore-tack. 'e'll be a-floggin' th' clock afore ye knows it!" the mate hears this, as martin intended he should, and scowls darkly at that ancient mariner. martin will have his 'old iron' worked up for that before the watch is out. he's a hard case. coffee is served out, and the crowd disperses. it is now broad daylight, and the sun is on the horizon. the east is a-fire with his radiance; purest gold there changing to saffron and rose overhead; and in the west, where fading stars show, copper-hued clouds are working down to the horizon in track of the night. our dingy sails are cut out in seemly curves and glowing colours against the deep of the sky; red-gold where the light strikes, and deepest violet in the shadows. blue smoke from the galley funnel is wafted aft by the draught from the sails, and gives a kindly scent to the air; there is no smell like that of wood fires in the pride of the morning. this is a time to be awake and alive; a morning to be at the wheel of a leaning ship. presently i am relieved for a few minutes that i may have my coffee. being the last man, i get a bo'sun's share of the grounds. to my protests the cook gives scant heed. "ach, sure! phwat are yez growlin' at? sure, if ye'd been in my last ship, yez wouldn't have none at all! devil the coffee would yez get till eight bells ov a marnin', an' tay at thatt, bedad!" the 'doctor,' being irish, is beyond argument, so i take my pannikin along to our quarters to sift the grounds as best i can. there is naught but dry ship's biscuit to put down with it, for it is well on in the week--thursday, indeed--and only hansen among us can make his week's rations last out beyond that; he was bred in the north. the half-deck is in its usual hopeless disorder--stuffy and close and dismal in the shuttered half-light. four small ports give little air, and sea clothes hanging everywhere crowd up the space. the beams, blackened by tobacco smoke, are hacked and carved, covered by the initials and remarks of bygone apprentices. only the after one is kept clear; there the board of trade inscription (slightly altered by some inspiring genius), reads, "certified to suffocate eight seamen." a dismal hole on a bright morning! happily, one has not far to go for a breath of keen air. ten minutes is my time, and i am back at the wheel again. the mate is seated on the cabin skylight, smoking. this is his time to consider the trim of the sails. it is no matter that the evening before the gear was sweated up to the tautest of sailing trim; the wind is unchanged, but morning shows wrinkles in the clew of the royals or a sag in the foot of a topsail. ropes give mysteriously, and this must all be righted before the old man comes on deck. so he smokes leisurely and considers the trim. the day's work begins at half-past five. the mate strikes three bells himself, exact, on the tick of the minute, and goes forward to turn the men to. "fore tack," as martin said, is the first order. the mate signs to me to luff her up, and when the sail shakes the tack is hove hard down. then sheets and halyards are sweated up, ropes coiled, and a boy sent aloft to stop up the gear. at the main they have the usual morning wrestle with the weather topsail sheet--a clew that never did fit. macallison's loft must have been at sixes and sevens the day they turned that sail out; a monday after glasgow fair, belike. when the trim is right, wash deck begins. a bucket and spar is rigged, and the clear sparkling water is drawn from overside. this is the fine job of the morning watch in summer seas. the sound of cool sluicing water and the swish of scrubbing brooms is an invitation that no one can resist. there is something in it that calls for bare feet and trousers rolled above the knee. there is grace in the steady throwing of the water--the brimming bucket poised for the throw, left foot cocked a few inches above the deck, the balance, and the sweeping half-circle with the limpid water pouring strongly and evenly over the planking; then the recovery, and the quick half-turn to pass the empty bucket and receive a full--a figure for a stately dance! now it is six, and i strike four bells. martin has the next trick, but i see no signs of my relief. the mate will have him at some lowly 'work-up' job, cleaning pig-pens or something like that, for his hint about flogging the clock in the morning. the cranky old 'shellback' is always 'asking for it.' in the waist a row begins, a bicker between the sailmaker and bo'sun. old dutchy is laying it off because someone has spilt water on the main-hatch, where a sail is spread out, ready for his work. in course, the bo'sun has called him a 'squarehead,' and 'sails,' a decent old swede, is justly indignant at the insult; only germans are squareheads, be it known. "skvarehedd! jou calls me skvarehedd! ah vass no more skvarehedd as jou vass," he says, excited. "jou tinks d' sheep vass jours, mit jour vash-backet und deck-scrub. dere vass no places for d' sailmake, aindt it? skvarehedd! skvarehedd jourselluf, dam cockney loafer!" there are the makings of a tidy row, but the mate, coming from forrard, cuts it short. "now, then, you men there, quit yer chinning an' get on with the work!" 'sails' tries to explain his grievance, but meets with little sympathy. "squarehead? well, what the hell's th' odds, anyhow? if ye ain't a squarehead, ye'r as near it 's can be!" this is rough on old 'sails,' whose proud boast is that he has been "for thirty jahrs sailmake mit british sheeps in!" he goes sorrowfully to his work, and bends over his seam with many shakings of the head. "skvarehedd!" time is drawing on, and i am getting tired of my long trick, when i see martin coming round the deck-house. he has donned the familiar old red flannel shirt that he stands his wheel in, and, bareheaded as he always is at sea, he looks a typical old salt, a western ocean warrior. he mounts the lee ladder, crosses to windward in the fashion of the sea, and stands behind me. here, i thought, is a rare chance to get at martin. i give him the mate's last steering order as i got it. "full an' by," i said, concealing a foolish grin; "full an' by, and no damned shinnanikin!" martin looked at me curiously. "no shinnanikin," was a new order to a man who could steer blindfold, by the wind on his cheek; to a man who had steered great ships for perhaps half a century. on the other hand, orders were orders, meant to be repeated as they were given, seamanlike. martin squared himself, put a fresh piece of tobacco in position, and gripped the spokes. "full 'n' by," he said, lifting his keen old eyes to the weather clews of the royals, "full 'n' by, 'n' no damned shinnanikin, it is!" xv ''oly joes' "she'll be one o' them 'oly joes; them wot cruises among th' islands wi' tracks an' picter books for th' bloomin' 'eathens!" "'o--ly joes! 'oly joes b' damn," said martin. "'oly joes is schooners same's mission boats on th' gran' banks! ... 'oly joes! she's a starvation britisher, that's wot _she_ is; a pound an' pint ruddy limejuicer by th' set o' them trucks; sailor's misery in them painted bloomin' ports o' her." the subject of discussion was a full-rigged ship, standing upright in mid-pacific, with all her canvas furled; looking as she might be in queenstown harbour awaiting orders. the south-east trades had blown us out of the tropics, and we held a variable wind, but there was nothing in the clean, fresh morning to cause even a killala pilot to clew up, and the strange sight of an idle ship in a working breeze soon drew all hands from work and slumber, to peer over the head rail, to vent deep-sea logic over such an odd happening. one of the younger hands had expressed an opinion, and martin, who held that "boys an' dutchmen should only speak when spoke to," was scornfully indignant. "'o--ly bloomin' joe! ... 'ow should she be an 'oly joe, me young 'know-all'? wot d'ye know 'bout 'oly joes, anyway?" "well! ... 'eard as 'ow they clews up at eight bells o' a saturd'y night an' prays, solid on, till they sets tawps'ls, jack-easy, ov a monday mornin'!" the laugh of derision sent him shamefaced to the fo'cas'le, and we talked about till there was a call for all hands to haul courses up and stand by to work ship. we hauled sharp up to windward, and, as we drew on, we saw what was the matter, and the sight caused our old man to dive below to his charts, cursing his wayward chronometer. we saw the loom of a low island, scarce raised above the sea, with the surf breaking lightly, and the big ship piled up, all standing, on the verge of the weather reef. she looked to be but lately gone on, for her topsides were scarce weather-beaten. the boats were gone from her skids, and the davit tackles, swinging lubberly overside, told that her crew had left her. aloft, she seemed to be in good trim, and her sails were as well stowed as if she were lying in the canning dock with her nose against the custom house. we lay-to for some time with our ensign apeak, but saw no sign of life aboard of the wreck, and when we fired a charge from our signal-gun (a rusty six-pounder), only a few sea-birds rose at the report. we were about to bear off on our course again when we saw two sail rounding the reef from the west side, and beating out. there was but a light breeze, and they were some time in reaching us. one was a large boat with barked canvas, going well and weatherly, but the other, plainly a ship's lifeboat, hung heavy in the wind, and presently her crew lowered sail and came at us under oars. the big boat reached us first, her steersman taking every inch out of the fickle breeze. plainly these were no deep-water sailor-men, by the way they handled their boat. smart, wiry men, they had no look of castaways, and their light cotton clothes were cleanly and in order. as they sheered alongside they hailed us in clear, pleasant english: one shouted, in face of our line of wondering seamen, a strange sea salutation: "god bless you, captain leish! are you long out?" "blimy," said the bo'sun, "th' young 'un wos right after all. 'oly joes they be!" "mebbe 'oly joes, but them ain't sailormen," muttered martin sullenly; "them's kanakas!" neither was quite right, for the boatmen were pitcairn islanders, and they were soon on deck greeting us in the friendly way of men from afar. their leader went aft to the old man, and the rest remained to tell us of the wreck, in exchange for what scant knowledge we had of affairs. the island was called oeno. the ship was the _bowden_, of liverpool. she had gone ashore, six weeks back, in a northerly wind, with all sail on her: chronometer was twenty miles out: a bad case, the whole bottom was ripped out of her, and her ruined cargo of grain smelt abominably; two of their men were already sick. ugh! ... the crew of the ship had made for pitcairn, ninety miles to the southward; they might be there now. they (the islanders) had now been three weeks on the reef, salving what they could. there was not much: they were all pretty sick of the job, and wanted to get back to pitcairn. perhaps the captain would give them a passage; it was on the way? as we stood about, the old man and the leader of the islanders came out of the cabin, and talked with the others. all wanted to get back to pitcairn, and, the old man agreeing to give them a passage, we hoisted the smaller boat on our davits, towed the other astern, and were soon on our way towards pitcairn. when we got the ship in fair sailing trim, we had a rare opportunity of learning something of the island and its people. discipline was, for the time, relaxed, and but for working ship, in which the islanders joined us, we had the time to ourselves. in the shade of the great sails, we stood or sat about, and our decks showed an unusual animation in the groups of men colloguing earnestly--strangers met by the way. in stature the islanders were perhaps above the average height, lithe and wiry, and but few were darker-skinned than a spaniard or italian. they spoke excellent english (though, among themselves, they had a few odd words), and their speech had no unnecessary adjectives. they had a gentle manner, and no ill language; sometimes our rough ship talk raised a slight protest; a raised hand, or a mild, "oh, sir!" their leader, who was governor of the island, was a man in the prime of life, and, though dressed in dungarees and a worn cotton shirt, barefooted like the rest, had a quiet dignity in his manner and address that caused even our truculent old martin to call him sir. there was one outlander among them, a wiry old man, an american whaleman, who had been settled on the island for many years; he it was who steered the boat, and he knew a little of navigation. their talk was mostly of ships that had visited the island, and they asked us to run over the names of the ships that were at 'frisco when we left; when we mentioned a ship that they knew, they were eager to know how it fared with her people. they had fine memories. they could name the captain and mates of each ship; of the whalers they had the particulars even down to the bulk of oil aboard. they seemed to take a pleasure in learning our names, and, these known, they let pass no opportunity of using them, slipping them into sentences in the oddest manner. they themselves had few surnames--adams, fletcher, christian, and hobbs (the names of their forefathers, the stark mutineers of the _bounty_)--but their christian names were many and curious, sometimes days of the week or even dates. they told us that there was a child named after our old man, who had called off the island the day after it was born, five years ago; a weird name for a lassie! in one way the islanders had a want. they had no sense of humour. true, they laughed with us at some merry jest of our irish cook, but it was the laugh of children, seeing their elders amused, and though they were ever cheery-faced and smiling, they were strangely serious in their outlook. we had light winds, and made slow progress, and it was the afternoon of the second day when we saw pitcairn, rising bold and solitary, on the lee bow. the sun had gone down before we drew nigh, and the island stood sharp outlined against the scarlet and gold of a radiant western sky. slowly the light failed, and the dark moonless night found us lifting lazily to the swell off the north point. the islanders manned their boats and made off to the landing place. it was clock calm, and we heard the steady creak of their oars long after the dark had taken them. we drifted close to the land, and the scent of trees, lime and orange, was sweetly strange. the boats were a long time gone, and the old man was growing impatient, when we heard voices on the water, and saw, afar off, the gleam of phosphorescence on the dripping oars. we heard the cheery hail, "the _florence_, ahoy!" and burned a blue light to lead them on. there were many new men in the boats, and they brought a cargo of fruit and vegetables to barter with us. the old man heaved a sigh of relief when he learned that the _bowden's_ crew were disposed of; they had taken passage in a whaler that had called, nine days before, on her way across to valparaiso--a 'full' ship. in odd corners the bartering began. cotton clothes were in most demand; they had little use for anything heavier. a basket of a hundred or more luscious oranges could be had for an old duck suit, and a branch of ripening bananas was counted worth a cotton shirt in a reasonable state of repair. hansen had red cotton curtains to his bunk, full lengths, and there was keen bidding before they were taken down, destined to grace some island beauty. after the trade in clothing had become exhausted, there were odd items, luxuries to the islanders, soap, matches, needles, thread. there was a demand for parts of old clocks--martin it was who had a collection; they told us that there was a man on the island who was a famous hand at putting up and repairing such battered timepieces as we had to offer. they had some curios; rudely carved or painted bamboos, and sea-shells cunningly fashioned into pin-cushions, with pitcairn in bold black letters, just as one might see "a present from largs." these were the work of the women-folk, and showed considerable ingenuity in the way the shells were jointed. although they seemed to have a good idea of the value of the trifles we offered, there was no 'haggling,' and latterly, when trade slackened, it came to be, "sir! if you like this, i will give it to you, and you will give me something." there was no cheating. those of our crew who would glory in 'bilking' a runner or a dutchman were strangely decent, even generous, in their dealings. when we were called away to brace the yards round, stock was taken on both sides; the islanders had their boats well laden, and our once trim deck was strewn with a litter of fruit and vegetables, like the top of bell street on a busy morning. light was breaking into the east when we laid the yards to a gentle breeze, and shortly the islanders, with a great shaking of hands and "god bless you," got aboard their boats and sheered off. we were now to leeward of the island, and the light showed us the bold wooded heights, high cliffs, steep to the water's edge, and the small houses scattered apart among the trees. astern the boats had hoisted sail, and were standing inshore, leaning gently to the scented land breeze. the ''oly joes' were singing together as they sailed; the tune was an old familiar one that minded us of quiet sabbath days in the homeland, of kirk and kent faces, and, somehow, we felt that it was we who were the 'bloomin' 'eathens,' for their song was 'rock of ages,' and it had a new sound, mellowed by distance and the water. xvi east, half south on a day of high action in sea and sky we fled, hot-foot, before the fury of a nor'-west gale. we had run her overlong. old jock, for once at any rate, had had his weather eye bedimmed. he was expecting a quick shift into the sou'-west, a moderate gale, and a chance to make his 'easting' round cape horn, but the wind hung stubbornly in the nor'-west; there was no break in the sky, no cessation in the black bursts of rain and sleet that swept upon us. a huge sea set up, and we were past the time when we could, in safety, heave her to the wind. there was nothing for it but to run--run she did. we had tops'ls and a reefed foresail on her while daylight lasted, but on threat of darkness we stowed all but the foretops'l; wings enough for the weight of a hurricane wind. under that narrow band of straining canvas she sped on into the murk of advancing night, while behind the lurid western sky showed threat of a mightier blast in bank upon bank of ragged storm-cloud. it was a wild night, never a wilder! in the darkness the uncanny green shimmer of breaking seas gave an added terror to the scene of storm. rain and stinging sleet swept constantly over us, thundering seas towered and curled at our stern, lapping viciously at the fleeting quarter, or, parting, crashed aboard at the waist, filling the decks man high with a power of destruction. part of the bulwarks were torn from the side. that was, perhaps, the saving of us, for the seas swept off as fast as they thundered aboard, and the barque rode buoyant, when, with bulwarks standing, the weight of compassed water would have held her at mercy of the next towering greybeard. a boat on the forward skids was smashed to atoms and the wreck swept overboard, and every moment we looked to see our crazy half-deck go tottering to ruin. the fo'ca'sle was awash through a shattered door, and all hands were gathered on the poop for such safety as it held. there was nowhere else where man could stand on the reeling hull, and crouching at the rails, wet and chilled to the marrow, we spent the night a-watching. the bo'sun and martin and hans took turns of the steering; that was work beyond the rest of us, and the most we could do was to stand by a-lee and bear on the spokes with the helmsman. dutchy was the best steersman, and his steering was no truer than the stout heart of him. once she pooped, and the crest of a huge following sea came crashing on top of us. but for our hold-fasts, all would have been swept away. that was the time of trial. a falter at the helm--she would have 'broached-to'--to utter destruction! amid the furious rush of broken water, 'dutchy' stood fast at his post, though there was a gash on his forehead and blood running in his eyes--the work of the wrenching wheel. we showed no lights; no lamps would stand to the weather. there was only the flickering binnacle, tended as never was temple fire, to show the compass card. by turns we kept a look-out from the tops'l yard, but of what use was that when we could steer but to one point. we were a ship of chance, and god help us and the outward-bounder, 'hove-to' in the trough, that had come between us and the east that night! how we looked for daylight! how it was long a-coming! how the mountain seas raced up and hove our barque, reeling from the blow, from towering crest to hollow of the trough! how every day of the twenty-five years of her cried out in creak of block, in clatter of chain sheet, in the 'harping' of the backstays, the straining groan of the burdened masts! from time to time through the night the mate and some of us would go forward to see to the gear; there was no need to touch a brace, for the wind blew ominously true. when we got back again, battered and breathless, it was something to know that the foretops'l still stood the strain. it was a famous sail, a web of ' storm,' stitched and fortified at seam and roping for such a wind as this. good luck to the hands that stitched it, to the dingy sail loft in the govan road that turned it out, for it stood us in stead that night! once an ill-stowed clew of the mains'l blew out with a sounding crack, and thrashed a 'devil's tattoo' on the yard. we thought it the tops'l gone--but no! macallison's best stood bravely spread to the shrieking gale, and we soon had the ribbons of the main clew fast to the yard. there was no broad dawn, no glow in the east to mark its breaking; the light grew out of the darkness. the masts and spars shaped themselves out of the gloom, till they stood outlined against the dull grey clouds. we could see the great seas, white-streaked by lash of driven spray, running up into the lowering sky. when day came, and the heaving, wind-swept face of the waters became plain to us, we saw the stormy path round the horn in its wildest, grandest mood. stretching far to the black murky curtain--the rear of the last shrieking rain squall--the great cape horn greybeards swept on with terrific force and grandeur, their mile-long crests hurtling skyward in blinding foam. the old barque ran well, reeling through the long, stormy slopes with buoyant spring, driving wildly to the trough, smashing the foam far aside. at times she poised with sickening uncertitude on the crest of a greater wave, then steadied, and leapt with the breaking water to the smoother hollow. the old man stood by the helmsman, 'conning' her on. all night he had stood there, ordering, to the shock of following seas, a steady voiced command. never a gainly man--short-legged, broad, uncouth--his was yet a figure in keeping with the scene; unkempt and haggard, blue-lipped, drenched by sea and rain, he was never less than a master of the sea. at daybreak we heard a hail from the tops'l yard, and saw the 'look-out' pointing ahead. peering down the wind, we made out the loom of a ship rising and falling in the trough of the sea. a big 'four-master' she proved, lying 'hove-to' the wind. we shuddered to think of what would have been if daylight had been further delayed! out of the mist and spray we bore down on her and flew by, close to her stern. we could see figures on her poop staring and pointing, a man with glasses at his eyes. only a fleeting glimpse--for she was soon swallowed up by the murk astern, and we were driving on. the shift of wind came suddenly. nearly at noon there was a heavier fall of rain, a shrieking squall that blew as it had never blown. the old man marked the signs--the scud of the upper clouds, a brightening low down in the south. "stan' by ... head ... yards," he yelled, shouting hoarsely to be heard. "quick ... the word!" all hands struggled to the braces, battling through the wash of icy water that swept over the decks. the squall passed, followed by a lull that served us to cant the yards; then, sharp as a knife-thrust, the wind came howling out of the sou'-west. the rain ceased and the sky cleared as by a miracle. still it blew and the seas, turned by the shift of wind, broke and shattered in a whirl of confusion. for a time we laboured through the treacherous cross sea--the barque fretting and turning to windward, calling for all of 'dutchy's' cunning at the helm, but it was none so ill with the sun in sight and a clearing overhead. "blast ye," said the old man, shaking his benumbed arms towards the sou'-west. "blast ye--but ye've been a long time comin'!" the wind was now to his liking, it was the weather he had looked for, and sure enough, as quick succeeding squalls rolled up on us, the sea grew less and ran truer, and the barque sailed easier. the wind fell to a moderate gale, and by four in the afternoon we had a reefed foresail and the tops'ls set, and were staggering along at a great speed. the decks were yet awash, there was no comfort on deck or below; but through it all we had one consoling thought: _east, half south_, we were covering the leagues that lay between us and our journey's end! xvii adrift! car-conducting may be a work of niceness and despatch, but it is ill training for working on the spars of a rolling ship. john cutler was mousing clew-blocks on the main-yardarm, the ship lurched heavily, the foot-ropes were wet and slippery, and john, ill-balanced and unready, was cast into the sea. instant, there was the cry "man overboard"; the old man ordered the helm down, and, springing to the rack, threw a lifebuoy from the starboard quarter; the second mate, not seeing him throw it, threw another from the port. we were below at the time, just after dinner, about to turn in, when we heard the call. all hands ran on deck. the watch were swinging the head yards; some were unlashing the lee boat. we joined them, tore the cover off, hooked the tackles, and swung her out. there was confusion; the old man and the mate shouting cross orders, the boat swinging wildly on the tackles, men crowding about the rail. "another hand in the boat," yelled the second mate, as he sprang into the stern-sheets, "lower away, you!" there was a whirr of block sheaves, the falls smoking on the pins, a splash, a rush of water on the rusty side. "bow off, there! bow off, you!" and i found myself in the bow of the boat, tugging frantically at the heft of a long oar. there was that in the steady _clack--clack-a_ of oar on rowlock to soothe the tremors of our moment of excited haste. astern was the barque, her mainyards aback, rolling heavily athwart the swell; we were leaving her slowly, for, though the breeze was light, we had to climb the long steep slopes of a cape horn swell. old martin's broad back was bent to the oar in front of me, houston beyond, and the bo'sun at the stroke. the second mate was standing up at the tiller, listening for a hail, gazing anxiously ahead for gleam of a painted life-buoy. _clack--clack-a, clack--clack-a_; the bo'sun was setting us a feverish stroke; it couldn't last. _clack--clack-a, clack--clack-a_; we were already breathing heavily. up and down the heaving swell we went; crawling laboured to the crown--the shudder, and the quick, sickening descent! _clack--clack-a_! would it ever end? now i was pulling out of stroke--a feeble paddle. my neck! i had the pain there! ... "bow, there! lay in, an' keep yer eyes about. he must be here somewhere!" i laid in my oar, and faced about. we could not see far, the swell was too great. when the boat rose we had a hasty glimpse of the face of the water, but in the hollow, the great glassy walls rose ahead and astern. we thought we had overrun the distance, and lay-to for a time. then on again, shouting as we went. the second mate saw something on the crest of a roller, just a glimpse, and we pulled to it. it was cutler's round cap; we had steered a good course. near by we found him with his arm twisted round the grab rope of the lifebuoy. he was dazed and quiet when we dragged him over the stern. "oh, chris'! oh, chris'!" was all he said. we were about to return when mr. m'kellar thought of the second lifebuoy. "bow, there! d'ye see the other buoy; it'll be somewhere t' th' norrard!" i stood up, unsteadily. there was something white in the hollow of a farther roller. we edged over; it was but a fleck of foam. farther over, up and down the swell we climbed until we found it. we turned to row back. "back starboard! pull port, you!" the boat's head swung round, and we rose quickly on the following swell. there was a startled cry from the stern-sheets, "_o dhia! o dhia!_" well might m'kellar cry out, for, unobserved of any, the mist had closed in on us. there was no ship in sight, no point to steer for--nothing to guide; there was only the great glassy walls rising and falling, moving up into the thickening mist. a panic seized us; furiously we rowed, driving the boat into it with no thought of course or distance. she was awash underfoot before we exhausted ourselves, and lay, breathing heavily, over the oars. the bo'sun was the first to regain a state of sanity. "vast rowin'," he cried; "vast rowin'! we cawn't do no good like this. liy 'er to, mister! liy-to; it's the ownly thing!" m'kellar put the tiller over, and we brought her head to swell again. we stood up, all eyes a-watching; we shouted together, listened intent; there was no friendly sail looming in the mist, no answer to our cries. we rowed aimlessly. sometimes we fancied we could hear a hail or a creak of blocks. we would lash blindly at the oars till the foam flew, then lie-to again. there was no compass in the boat, no food; only a small barreca of water. sometimes it is thick weather off the horn for days! if the mist held? cutler, crouching, shivering in the stern-sheets, began to cry like a child. cold, wet, unnerved, he was feeling it worst of us all. "shut up," said the second mate, dragging off his jacket and throwing it over the shivering lad. old martin was strangely quiet; he, too, was shivering. he had been just about to turn in when he heard the call, and was ill-clad for boat service. only once did he show a bit of his old gallant truculence. "all right, mister! if we loses track o' th' ship, we've got plenty o' prewisions! we can eat them lifebuoys, wot ye was so keen a-gettin'!" "oh, quit yer chinnin', ye old croak! 'oo's talkin' abaht losin' track o' th' ship!" the bo'sun didn't like to think! cutler became light-headed, and began to talk wildly; he would stand up, pointing and shouting out, "there she is, there!" then he began to make queer noises, and became very quiet. there was the canvas boat cover lying in the bottom of the boat. the bo'sun put this round him, and i was ordered aft to rub him down. the cold became intense. when the heat of our mad spurt had passed, depression came on us and we cowered, chilled to the marrow by the mist, on the gratings of the heaving boat. long we lay thus, houston and the bo'sun pulling a listless stroke to keep her head to the swell. we had no count of time. hours must have passed, we thought. "the dago 'll hae ma trick at th' wheel, noo," said houston strangely. "it wis ma turn at fower bells!" no one heeded him. "they'll hae tae shift some o' th' hauns i' th' watches, eh? ... wi' you, an' martin, an' th' young fla' no' there!" he continued. "oh, shut up, damn ye! shut up, an' listen. _o dhia!_ can ye hear nocht?" m'kellar, standing up on the stern-sheets, was casting wild glances into the pall that enshrouded us. "here! all together, men--a shout!" a weakly chorus went out over the water. silence. suddenly houston stood up. "maister, did ye hear that--a cheep!" we thought that he was going off like cutler; we could hear nothing. "a cheep, ah telt ye, maister; a cheep, as shair's daith!" houston was positive. "the jerk o' a rudder, or" ... almost on top of us there was a flash of blinding fire, the roar of a gun followed! we sprang to the oars, shouting madly--shaping out of the mist was the loom of a square sail, there was sound of a bell struck. no need now to talk of eating lifebuoys; houston would be in time for his trick at the wheel! * * * * * "what th' blazes kept ye, mister? we saw ye pickin' th' man up! what made ye turn t' th' norrard?" the old man had a note of anger in his voice. "well, sir, we couldn't see th' other buoy, an' i thought it a peety if we didn't pick it up; an' while we were lookin' for it, we lost track o' th' ship," said mister m'kellar, ashamed and miserable. the mate broke in, "ye damn fool! d'ye mean t' tell us ye risked a whole boat's crew for a tuppence-ha'penny lifebuoy? b'gad, it would serve ye right if ye had t' go seekin' like th' flying dutchman!" the mate continued to curse such stupidity, but the old man, though permitting the mate to rail, was wonderfully silent. after all, m'kellar, like himself, was a scotchman, and much may be forgiven to a scotchman--looking after his owners' property! xviii "----after forty year!" "martin?" ... "_huh!_" "lewis?" ... "_iss!_" "granger?" ... "_'ere!_" "ulricks?" ... "_ya!_" "dago joe?" ... "_ser!_" "'ansen?" ... "_yep!_" "bunn?" ... "_yes!_" "munro?" ... "_here!_" "eccles?--eccles!--ecc--damn your eyes, lay 'long 'ere! you goin' t' keep awl 'ans waitin'?" eccles joined us fumbling with the buttons of his jacket. (eccles, for the time limit!) "awl 'ere," continued the bo'sun; then reported to the mate, "watch is aft, sir!" a surly growl that might have been, "relieve the wheel and look-out," came from the poop, and we were dismissed muster; the starboard watch to their rest; we of the port to take our turn on deck. it was a cold, raw morning that fell to our lot. a light wind, blowing from north of west in fitful puffs, scarcely slanted the downpour of thin, insistent rain; rain that by the keenness of it ought to have been snow or sleet. the sea around was shrouded in mist, and breaking day, coming in with a cold, treacherous half-light, added to the illusion that made the horizon seem scarcely a length away. the barque was labouring unsteadily, with a long westerly swell--the ghost of the cape horn 'greybeards '--running under her in oily ridges. it needed but a bite of freshening wind to rouse the sea; at the lash of a sudden gale the 'greybeards' would be at us again--whelming and sweeping. even in quiet mood they were loath to let us go north, and we jarred and rattled, rolled, lurched, and wallowed as they hove at us. heave as they did, we were still able to make way on our course, standing with yards in to the quartering wind and all plain sail on her. thick weather! the horizon closed to us at a length or so ahead. but she was moving slowly, four knots at the most, and we were well out of the track of ships! oh, it was all right--all right; and aft there the mate leaned over the poop rail with his arms squared and his head nodding--now and then! as the light grew, it seemed to bring intenser cold. jackets were not enough; we donned coats and oilskins and stamped and stamped on the foredeck, yawning and muttering and wishing it was five o'clock and the 'doctor' ready with the blessed coffee: the coffee that would make men of us; vile 'hogwash' that a convict would turn his face at, but what seemed nectar to us at daybreak, down there in fifty-five! by one bell the mist had grown denser, and the mate sung out sudden and angrily for the foghorn to be sounded. "three blasts, d'ye 'ear," said the bo'sun, passing the horn up to dago, the look-out. "_uno! ... doo! ... tray!_" (three fingers held up.) ... "_tray_, ye burnt scorpion! ... an' see that ye sounds 'em proper, or i'll come up there an' hide th' soul-case out o' ye! ... (cow-punchin' hoodlum! good job i knows 'is bloomin' lingo!)" now we had a tune to our early rising, a doleful tune, a tune set to the deepening mist, the heaving sea, at dismal break of day. _r-r-ah! ... r-r-ah! ra!_ was the way it ran; a mournful bar, with windy gasps here and there, for dago joe was more accustomed to a cowhorn. "a horn," said welsh john suddenly. "did 'oo hear it?" no one had heard. we were gathered round the galley door, all talking, all telling the 'doctor' the best way to light a fire quickly. "_iss_! a horn, i tell 'oo! ... listen! ... just after ours is sounded!" _r-r-ah! ... r-r-ah! ... r-ah!_ joe was improving. we listened intently.... "there now," said john! yes! sure enough! faint rasps answering ours. ulrichs said three; two, i thought! "don't ye 'ear that 'orn, ye dago fiddler," shouted the bo'sun.... "'ere! hup there, one of ye, an' blow a proper blast! that damn hoodlum! ye couldn't 'ear 'is trumpetin' at th' back of an area railin's!" john went on the head; the bo'sun aft to report. a proper blast! the welshman had the trick of the wheezing 'gad jet.' ... ah! there again! ... three blasts, right enough! ... she would be a square rigger, running, like ourselves! ... perhaps we were making on her! ... the sound seemed louder.... it came from ahead! r-r-r-r-r-ah! ... r-r-r-r-r-ah! ... r-r-r-r-r-ah! _... r-r-r-r-eh! ... r-r-r-r-eh! ... r-r-r-r-eh!_ the mate was now on the alert, peering and listening. at the plain answer to our horn, he rapped out orders. "lower away main an' fore-to'gal'ns'ls ... let 'em hang, an' lay aft and haul th' mains'l up! come aft here, one of you boys, and call th' captain! tell him it's come down thick! sharp, now!" i went below and roused the old man. "aye ... all right," he said, feeling for his sea-boots. (south'ard of the 'forties' old jock slept 'all standing,' as we say.) .... "thick, eh? ... tell th' mate t' keep th' horn goin'! ... a ship, ye say? ... running, eh? ... aye! all right ... i'll be up...." i had scarcely reached the poop again before the old man was at my back. "thick, b'goad," he said, rubbing his eyes. "man, man! why was i not called before?" the mate muttered something about the mist having just closed in.... "clear enough t' be goin' on before that," he said. "aye, aye! where d'ye mak' this ship? ye would see her before the mist cam' doon, eh?" "sound that horn, forrard there!" shouted the mate, moving off to the gangway. "keep that horn going, there!" john pumped a stirring blast.... r-r-r-r-r-ah! ... r-r-r-r-r-ah! ... r-r-r-r-r-ah! we bent forward with ears strained to catch the distant note. ... _r-r-r-r-eh!_ ... at the first answering blast old jock raised his head, glancing fearfully round.... _r-r-r-r-eh! ... r-r-r-r----_ "down hellum! down hellum! down," he yelled, running aft to the wheel! "haul yards forrard! le'go port braces! let 'm rip! le'go an' haul! ... quick, mist'r! christ! what ye standin' at? ... ice! ice, ye bluidy eedi't! ice! th' echo! let go! le'go an' haul! le'go!" ice! the mate stood stupid for an instant--then jumped to the waist--to the brace pins--roaring hoarse orders. "all hands on deck! haul away, there! all hands! on deck, men--for your lives!" ice! at the dread cry we ran to the ropes and tailed on with desperate energy! ice! the watch below, part dressed, swarmed from house and fo'cas'le and hauled with us--a light of terror in their eyes--the terror that comes with stark reason--when the brain reels from restful stupor at a trumpet of alarms! ice! the decks, that so late had been quiet as the air about us, resounded to the din of sudden action! yards swinging forward with a crash--blocks _whirring_--ropes hurtling from the pins--sails lifting and thrashing to the masts--shouts and cries from the swaying haulers at the ropes--hurried orders--and, loud over all, the raucous bellow of the fog-horn when dago joe, dismayed at the confusion, pumped furiously, _ra! ra! ra! ra! ra!_ ... _reh! reh! reh! reh! reh!_ ... note for note--the echo--out of the mist! "belay, all! well, mainyards!" the order steadied us. we had time now to look! ... there was nothing in sight! ... no towering monster looming in our path--no breakers--no sea--no sky; nothing! nothing but the misty wall that veiled our danger! the unknown! the unseen! she was swinging slowly against the scend of the running swell--laying up to the wind. martin had the wheel and was holding the helm down, his keen eyes watching for the lift that would mark the limit of steering-way. the old man stood by the compass, bending, peering, smiling--nosing at the keen air--his quick eyes searching the mist--ahead--abeam--astern.... martin eased the helm; she lay quietly with sails edged to the wind, the long swell heaving at her--broadside on. suddenly a light grew out of the mist and spread out on both bows--a luminous sheen, low down on the narrowed sea-line! the 'ice-blink'! cold! white! at the first glow the old man started--his lips framed to roar an order! ... no order came! quickly he saw the hopelessness of it; what was to happen was plain, inevitable! broad along the beam, stretching out to leeward, the great dazzling 'ice-blink' warned him of a solid barrier, miles long, perhaps! the barque lay to the wind, at mercy of the swell, drifting dead to leeward at every heave! ... on the other tack, perhaps? there was a misty gap to the south of us; no 'ice-blink' there! ... if she could be put about? ... no, there was no chance! ... to gather speed to put her about he would have to bear off towards the brightening sheen! already the roar of the swell, lashing at the base, was loud in our ears! ... there was no room! no sea-room to wear or stay! "embayed!" he said bitterly, turning his palms up! ... "all hands aft and swing th' port boat out!" the port boat? the big boat? had it come, so soon, to that? more than one of us cast an anxious look at the broad figure of our master as we ran aft. he stood quite still, glaring out at the ice ring. "this is it, eh!" he muttered, unheeding the stir and cries of us. "this is it--after forty year!" madly we tore and knifed at the lashings, working to clear the big boat. she was turned down on the skids (the fashion of thrifty 'limejuicers'), bound and bolted to stand the heavy weather. we were handless, unnerved by the suddenness of it all, faulty at the task. the roar of breaking water spurred us on.... a heave together! .... righted, we hooked the falls and swayed her up. the mate looked aft for the word. "aye," said the old man. "oot wi' her, an' try tae tow th' heid roun'! on th' ither tack we micht----" he left the words unfinished! well he knew we could never drag three thousand tons against that swell! a wild outcry turns our eyes forward. dago joe (forgotten on the lookout) is running aft, his precious horn still slung from his shoulders. "_arretto! arretto! arretto!_" he yells as he runs. "_arretto, capitan!_" waving his arms and signing to the old man to stop the ship! behind him, over the bows, we see the clear outline of a small berg--an outflung 'calf' of the main ice! there is no time! nothing can be done! small as the berg is--not the height of our lower yards--it has weight enough to sink us, when aided by the heaving swell! "quick with th' boat, there," yells the old man! he runs over to the companion-way and dives below, jostling the second mate, who is staggering up under a weight of biscuit bags. in a moment we have closed with the ice and are hammering and grinding at the sheer glistening wall. at the first impact the boom goes with a crash! then fore-to'gallant mast--yards--sails--rigging--all hurtling to the head, driving the decks in! a shelf of solid ice, tons weight of it, crashes aboard and shatters the fore-hatch! now there is a grind and scream of buckling iron, as the beams give to the strain--ring of stays and guy-ropes, parting at high tension--crash of splintering wood! the heaving monster draws off, reels, and comes at us again! another blow and---- "'vast lowering! hold on! hold on the boat there!" the old man, come on deck with his treasured papers, has seen more than the wreck of the head! he runs to the compass--a look--then casts his eyes aloft. "square mainyards!" his voice has the old confident ring: the ring we know. "square main yards! ... a hand t' th' wheel!" doubting, we hang around the boat. she swings clear, all ready! the jar of a further blow sets us staggering for foothold! what chance? ... "a hand t' th' wheel, here," roars the old man. martin looks up ... goes back to his post. a man at the wheel again! no longer the fearful sight of the main post deserted; no longer the jar and rattle of a handless helm! martin's action steadies us. what dread, when the oldest of us all stands there grasping the spokes, waiting the order? ... we leave the swinging boat and hurry to the braces! a 'chance' has come! the power of gales long since blown out is working a way for us: the ghostly descendants of towering cape horn 'greybeards' have come to our aid! as we struck, sidling on the bows, the swell has swept our stern round the berg. now we are head to wind and the big foresail is flat against the mast, straining sternward! it is broad day, and we see the 'calf' plainly as we drift under stern-way apart. the gap widens! a foot--a yard--an oar's-length! now the wind stirs the canvas on the main--a clew lifts--the tops'ls rustle and blow out, drawing finely! her head still swings! "foreyards! le'go an' haul!" roars the old man. we are stern on to the main ice. already the swell--recurving from the sheer base--is hissing and breaking about us. there is little room for sternboard. "le'go an' haul!" we roar a heartening chorus as we drag the standing head yards in. slowly she brings up ... gathers way ... moves ahead! the 'calf' is dead to windward, the loom of the main ice astern and a-lee. the wind has strengthened: in parts the mist has cleared. out to the south'ard a lift shows clear water. we are broad to the swell now, but sailing free as martin keeps her off! from under the bows the broken boom (still tethered to us by stout guy-ropes) thunders and jars as we move through the water. "cut and clear away!" roars old jock. "let her go!" aye, let her go! ... we are off ... crippled an' all ... out for open sea again! xix in little 'scotland' it was to no purpose that lloyds' agent pointed out the convenience and advantage of the inner port: it was as useless for the local pilot to look grave and recall dire happenings to captains who had elected to effect their repairs in the outer harbour--just here, at port william. old jock's square jaw was set firm, his eyes were narrowed to a crafty leer; he looked on everyone with unconcealed suspicion and distrust. he was a shipmaster of the old school, 'looking after his owners' interest.' he had put in 'in distress' to effect repairs.... he was being called upon to spend _money_! "no, no!" he said to all their reasoning. "my anchor's doon, an' here i stoap! i've conseedered a' that ye've pit furrit! 'convenience tae th' toon, if supplies are needit'? (i'll no' need that mony!) ... 'nae distance tae bring th' workin' gang'? (i've a wheen men here mysel'!) ... 'nae dues tae pay'? (we're jist as cheap here!) ... no, no, maister fordyce! ye can jist mak' up yeer mind on that! we'll dae a' th' repairs oot here! i'm no' comin' in!" "oh weel! jist as ye like, captain! jist as ye like! ... but--as th' pilot here 'll tell ye--ye're in a verra bad poseetion if it comes on tae blow f'ae the south-east! an' south-east 's a hard win', i'm tellin' ye!" "aye, aye! jist that! ... weel, if it comes tae blow frae th' south-east (i'm no much feart o' that at this time o' th' year) we're in a guid berth tae slip anchor an' run her in tae port stanley. it'll be time enough then! but i'm no' goin' in there if i can help it! ... if i brocht her in therr"--pointing to the narrows that led to the inner harbour--"i micht hae tae wait for a fair win' tae bring her oot, when oor bit damage is sortit.... no, no! we'll dae fine oot here. smooth watter! guid holdin' ground!" "oh, the holding ground is all right," said the pilot. "eight fathom ... mud and stones! good enough for anything but south or southeast." "oh, aye!" continued the old man. "we'll dae fine here.... if it wisna' for that bowsprit bein' steeved up and th' rivets stertit in th' bows o' her, i widna' be here at a'.... spars? ... we can mak' a' th' spars oorsel's; tho' i'm no' sayin' but that i'd be glad o' a spar or twa--at a moderate cost. a moderate cost, mind ye!" the agent laughed. "oh weel, captain! we're no' exactly jews doon here, though they say an aberdonian (i'm fa'e aberdeen mysel') is th' next thing! we can gi'e ye yeer spaurs--at a moderate cost! ... but i'll tell ye again, captain, ye'll lose time by stoappin' oot here. a' this traffiking back an' furrit tae port stanley! bringin' th' workmen aff in th' mornin', an' takin' them hame at e'en! ye'll no' get th' smiths tae stey oan th' ship. it'll be, 'hey, jimmy! whaur's ma lang drift?' or, 'jock, did ye bring oot th' big "monday?"' ... an' then naethin' 'll dae but they maun be awa' back tae th' port, tae look for theer tools in th' bar o' th' stanley airms!" "oh, aye!" said the old man. "i ken them! they'll be as keen for a dram doon here as onywhere! but we'll attend tae that. as for th' traffiking, i've a big boat an' a wheen idle lauds therr that'll be nane the waur o' a lang pull! ... onyway, i'm no' goin' t' risk bein' held up for a fair win' when th' time comes ... an' ye may tak' it that we're no' goin' t' lose time owre th' joab! a wheen smiths, an' mebbe a carpenter or twa, is a' i want ... an' if we can arrange wi' th' captain o' this schooner--ye were speakin' aboot--t' tak' a hunner' or a hunner' an' fifty ton o' cargo ... for th' time bein'.... no! jist twa beams tae be cut an' strappit.... a screw-jack an' a forge or twa! we can ... straighten them oot in their place! ... naethin' wrang below th' sheer strake! ... jist plain rivettin'...." talking of the repairs and their relation to the great god of economy, old jock led the way to the gangway and watched his visitors depart. in all he said the old man spoke his 'braidest' scotch. this was right! we had reached the falkland islands in safety, and what more natural than that he should speak the language of the country? even the german saloon-keepers who had boarded us on arrival--to proffer assistance in our distress--said 'aye' for yes, and 'ach! awa' wi' ye'--a jocular negative! nor did the resemblance to our 'ain countree' end there. port william was typical of a misty scotch countryside: the land about us was as bleak and home-like as a muirland in the stewartry. a bare hill-side sloping to the sea, with here and there straggling acres of cultivated land. a few wooden houses nestling in the bends and gullies, where small streamlets ran. uplands, bare of trees and hedge growth, stretching away inland in a smooth coat of waving grass. grass, grass, grass--a sheep fank--a patch of stony hill-side--a solitary hut, with blue smoke curling above--a misty sky-line--lowering clouds, and the setting sun breaking through in fleeting patches. port william! a quiet place for anchorage after our stormy times! no ships riding with us under the lee of the land! no sign of human life or movement in the lonely bay! no noise! quiet! only the plaintive cries of sea-birds that circled and wheeled about us, and the distant _baa-ing_ of sheep on the green hill-side! * * * * * 'no time was to be lost,' as the old man had said. soon the quiet of our lonely anchorage was broken by a din of strenuous work. the sea-birds flew affrighted from the clang of fore-hammers and the roar of forge fires. our damage was all on the bows. the to'gallan'mast, in its fall, had wrecked the starboard side of the fo'cas'le; the decks were smashed in; some beams were broken, others were twisted and bent. the hull plating had not escaped, and a big rent showed where the grinding ice had forced the stout cat-head from its solid bed. these were minor affairs--something might have been done to put them right without coming to port--but the bowsprit! ah! it was the bowsprit that had brought us in! "it's no use talking," the old man had said when he and the mate were considering the damage. "that bowsprit! ... spars? ... we could make th' spars good; ... an' we could do a fair joab wi' th' ironwork! ... but th' bowsprit! ... no, no! we can't sail th' ship unless we're sure o' th' head-gear! ... no use! no use talking, mister! we'll have t' bear up for th' falklands, and get that put to rights!" if further cause were needed to justify the serious course of 'putting in,' they had it when the carpenter reported water in the forepeak; and it was discovered that the broken jibboom had not hammered at the bows for nothing. no hesitation then! no talk! the course was set! although the falklands are famed as a refuge for vessels 'in distress,' there was then no great facilities for repair. it is enough if the ships stagger into port in time to save the lives of their crews. port stanley had many such sheer hulks lying to rust and decay in the landlocked harbour. good ships that had cleared from the channel in seaworthiness; crossed the line with a boastful "_all well!_" to a homeward-bounder; steered south into the 'roaring forties'--to meet disaster in fire, or wind, or sea, and falter into the falklands with the boats swung out! there was then no firm of ship repairers on the islands. the most mr. fordyce could do for us was to find workmen, and a schooner to take part of our cargo and lighten us sufficiently to get at the leaky rivets. old jock had to set up as a master shipwright and superintend the repairs himself. and who better? had he not set houston's leg as straight as a gilmorehill professor could? he was the man; and there was no sign of hesitation when he got out his piece of chalk and made marks (as many and as mysterious as a clydeside gaffer's) on the damaged ironwork! such skilled labour as he could get--'smiths' from the sheep camps (handy men, who were by turns stonemasons or woolpackers or ironworkers)--were no great hands at ship-work; but the old man, with his rough, chalked sketches, could make things plain; he had, too, the great advantage of knowing the islanders' language and its proper application to the ordering of 'wis'like' men! what might have been put elsewhere as, "what th' hell sort of work do you call this?" he translated to, "man, man, jock steel! could ye no' pit a fairer bend oan that knee?" ... jock (who would have thrown down his tools, and "on with his jacket" at the first) would perhaps turn red at the kindlier reproof, mutter "well, well," and have another try at the stubborn knee. it was slow work, for all the din and clatter. forge fires are devilish in the hands of an unskilled blower; rivets break and twist and get chilled when the striking is squint and irregular; iron is tough and stubborn when leverage is misapplied. there were difficulties. (difficulties that wee jonny docherty, a partick rivet 'b'ye,' would have laughed at!) the difficulty of strapping cut beams to make them span their former length; the difficulty of small rivets and big holes, of small holes and big rivets ... the sheer despair when sworn measurements go unaccountably and mysteriously wrong in practice. all difficulties! difficulties to be met and overcome! every one of us had a turn at the ironwork. there was odd work that we could do while the 'smiths' were heating and hammering at the more important sections. we made a feeble show, most of us; but joe granger gained honour in suggesting ways and showing how things were done. it was the time of granger's life. he was not even a good sailorman. his steering was pitiful. didn't jones have to show him how the royal buntlines led? what did martin say about the way he passed a head-earring? a poor sailorman! ... yet here he was: bossing us around; able seamen carrying tools to him; old man listening quite decently to his suggestions--even the hard-case mate (who knew granger, if anyone did) not above passing a word now and then! ... and all because granger had worked in the union ironworks at 'frisco. at first i am sure it was a _holder-on_ he told us he had been, but before our job had gone far it was a whilom _foreman shipwright_ who told us what was to be done! ... if armstrong, the carpenter, had not taken up a firm stand when it came to putting in the deck, there would have been hints that we had a former _under-manager_ among us! it was the time of joe's life, and the bo'sun could only chuckle and grin and wag his head in anticipation of 'proper sailor-work' on the mast and spars. it was good for us brassbounders to lie at port william, where there was little but the work in progress to interest us. in the half-deck we were full of ship repairs. little else was talked about when we were below. each of us carried a small piece of chalk, all ready to make rough drawings to explain our ideas. we chalked on the walls, the table, the deck, the sea-chests, lines and cross-lines, and bends and knees--no matter what, so long as there were plenty of round "o's" to show where the rivets were to go. we explained to one another the mysteries of ship construction, talked loftily of breasthooks and sheer strakes, and stringers and scantlings ... and were as wise after the telling! that was while the ironwork repairs were in progress. in a week or more we were spar-makers. jock steel and his mates put down their drifts and hammers, and took up adzes and jack-planes. we were getting on! we had no time for anyone who drew sketches of riveting. it was 'striking cambers' and 'fairing' and 'tapering' now, and joe granger got a cool reception when he came along to the half-deck after work was over for the day. poor joe had fallen from his high place! with the bowsprit hove down and securely strapped and riveted, and the last caulking blow dealt at the leaky doubling, his services became of small account. no one in the fo'cas'le would listen any longer to his tales of structural efficiency. there was no spar-making in the union ironworks at 'frisco. joe had to shut up, and let martin and the bo'sun instruct the ship's company in the art of masting and rigging--illustrated by match-sticks and pipe-stems! there were pleasant intervals to our work on board--days when we rowed the big boat through the narrows to port stanley and idled about the 'town,' while the old man and mr. fordyce were transacting business (under good conditions) in the bar-parlour of the stanley arms. we made many friends on these excursions. the falklanders have warm hearts, and down there the doric is the famous passport. we were welcome everywhere, though munro and i had to do most of the talking. it was something for the islanders to learn how the northern scottish crops had fared (eighteen months ago), or 'whatna'' catch of herrings fell to the loch fyne boats (last season but one). there was no great commercial activity in the 'town.' the '_great britian_' hulk, storehouse for the wool, was light and high in the water. the sawmill hulks were idle for want of lumber to be dressed. it was the slack time, they told us; the slack time before the rush of the wool-shearing. in a week, or a month at the most, the sheep would be ready for the shears. then--ah, then!--wully ramsey (who had a head for figures) would be brought forward, and, while his wind held out, would hurl figures and figures at us, all proving that 'little scotland,' for its size, was a 'ferr wunner' at wool production. the work of the moment was mostly at breaking up the wreck of the _glenisla_, a fine four-masted barque that had come in 'with the flames as high as th' foreyard,' and had been abandoned as a total wreck. her burnt-out shell lay beached in the harbour, and the plates were being drifted out, piece by piece, to make sheep tanks and bridge work. it was here that the old man--'at a moderate cost, mind ye'--picked up a shell-plate and knees and boom irons to make good our wants. a spar, too (charred, but sound), that we tested by all the canons of carpentry--tasting, smelling, twanging a steel at one end and listening for the true, sound note at the other. it was ours, after hard bargaining, and mason, the foreman wrecker, looked ill-pleased with his price when we rolled the timber down to tide mark, launched, and towed it away. pleasant times! but with the setting up of the new boom the old man was anxious to get under weigh. the to'gallant mast could wait till the fine weather of the 'trades.' we were sound and seaworthy again! outside the winds were fair and southerly. we had no excuse to lie swinging at single anchor. jock steel and his mates got their blessing, our 'lawin'' was paid and acquitted, and on a clear november morning we shook out the topsails and left port william to the circling sea-birds. xx under the flag a black, threatening sky, with heavy banks of indigo-tinted clouds massed about the sea-line. a sickly, greenish light high up in the zenith. elsewhere the gloom of warring elements broken only by flashes of sheet lightning, vivid but noiseless. the sea, rolling up from the sou'-west in a long glassy swell, was ruffled here and there by the checks of a fitful breeze. it needed not a deadly low barometer to tell us of a coming storm; we saw it in the tiers of hard-edged fearsome clouds, breaking up and re-forming, bank upon bank, in endless figurations. some opposing force was keeping the wind in check; there was conflict up there, for, though masses of detached cloud were breaking away and racing o'er the zenith, we held but a fitful gusty breeze, and our barque, under low sail, was lurching uneasily for want of a steadying wind. it was a morning of ill-omen, and the darkling sky but reflected the gloom of our faces; our thoughts were in keeping with the day, for we had lost a shipmate, one among us was gone, old martin was dead. he died sometime in the middle watch, no one knew when. he was awake when the watch came below at midnight, for welsh john had given him matches for his pipe before turning in. that was the last, for when they were called at four, martin was cold and quiet. there was no trouble on his face, no sign of pain or suffering. belike the old man had put his pipe aside, and finding no shipmate awake to 'pass the word,' had gently claimed his pilot. there was no great show of grief when it was known. perhaps a bit catch in the voice when speaking of it, an unusual gentleness in our manner towards one another, but no resemblance of mourning, no shadow of woe. his was no young life untimely ended, there was no accident to be discussed, no blame to be apportioned. it was just that old lamp had flickered out at last. ours was a sense of loss, we had lost a shipmate. there would be another empty bunk in the fo'cas'le, a hand less at the halyards, a name passed over at muster; we would miss the voice of experience that carried so much weight in our affairs--an influence was gone. at daybreak we stood around to have a last look at the strong old face we had known so long. the sailmaker was sewing him up in the clew of an old topsail, a sailorly shroud that martin would have chosen. the office was done gently and soberly, as a shipmate has a right to expect. a few pieces of old chain were put in to weight him down, all ship-shape and sailor-fashion, and when it was done we laid him out on the main hatch with the flag he had served cast over him. "there goes a good sailorman," said one of the crowd; "'e knowed 'is work," said another. "a good sailorman--'e knowed 'is work!" that was martin's epitaph--more, he would not want. his was no long illness. a chill had settled into bronchitis. martin had ever a fine disregard for weatherly precautions; he had to live up to the name of a 'hard case.' fits of coughing and a high temperature came on him, and he was ordered below. at first he was taken aft to a spare room, but the unaccustomed luxury of the cabin so told on him that when he begged to be put in the fo'cas'le again, the old man let him go. there he seemed to get better. he had his shipmates to talk to; he was even in a position to rebuke the voice of youth and inexperience when occasion required, though with but a shadow of his former vehemence. though he knew it would hurt him, he would smoke his pipe; it seemed to afford him a measure of relief. the old man did what he could for him, and spent more time in the fo'cas'le than most masters would have done. not much could be done, for a ship is ill-fitted for an ailing man. at times there were relapses; times when his breathing would become laboured. sometimes he became delirious and raved of old ships, and storms, and sails, then he would recover, and even seemed to get better. then came the end. the tough old frame could no longer stand the strain, and he passed off quietly in the silence of middle night. he was an old man, none knew how old. the kindly clerks in the shipping office had copied from one discharge note to the other when 'signing him on,' and he stood at fifty-eight on our articles; at sixty, he would never have got a 'sight.' he talked of old ships long since vanished from the face of the waters; if he had served on these he must have been over seventy years. sometimes, but only to favoured shipmates, he would tell of his service aboard a yankee cruiser when fort sumter fell, but he took greater pride in having been bo'sun of the famous _sovereign of the seas_. "three hundred an' seventy miles," he would say; "that wos 'er day's travellin'! that's wot ah calls sailin' a ship. none o' yer damn 'clew up an' clew down,' but give 'er th' ruddy canvas an'--let 'er go, boys!" he was of the old type, bred in a hard sea-school. one of his boasts was that he had sailed for five years in packet ships, 'an' never saw th' pay table.' he would 'sign on' at liverpool, giving his boarding-master a month's advance note for quittance. at new york he would desert, and after a bout ashore would sail for liverpool in a new ship. there was a reason for this seeming foolish way of doing. "none o' yer slavin' at harbour jobs an' cargo work; not fer me, me sons! ah wos a sailorman an' did only sailorin' jobs. them wos th' days w'en sailormen wos men, an' no ruddy cargo-wrastlin', coal-diggin' scallywags, wot they be now!" a great upholder of the rights of the fo'cas'le, he looked on the mates as his natural enemies, and though he did his work, and did it well, he never let pass an opportunity of trying a mate's temper by outspoken criticism of the officers' way of handling ship or sail. apprentices he bore with, though he was always suspicious of a cabin influence. that was martin, our gallantly truculent, overbearing old martin; and, as we looked on the motionless figure outlined by folds of the flag, we thought with regret of the time we took a pleasure in rousing him to a burst of sailorly invective. whistling about the decks, or flying past him in the rigging with a great shaking of the shrouds when the 'crowd' was laying aloft to hand sail. "come on, old 'has-been'!" jones once shouted to him as he clambered over the futtock shrouds. martin was furious. "has-been," he shouted in reply. "aye, mebbe a 'has-been,' but w'en ye comes to my time o' life, young cock, ye can call yerself a 'never-bloody-wos'!" well! his watch was up, and when the black, ragged clouds broke away from the sou'-west and roused the sea against us, we would be one less to face it, and he would have rest till the great call of 'all hands'; rest below the heaving water that had borne him so long. * * * * * surely there is nothing more solemn than a burial at sea. ashore there are familiar landmarks, the nearness of the haunts of men, the neighbourly headstones, the great company of the dead, to take from the loneliness of the grave. here was nothing but a heaving ship on the immensity of mid-ocean, an open gangway, a figure shrouded in folds of a flag, and a small knot of bare-headed men, bent and swaying to meet the lurches of the vessel, grouped about the simple bier. the wind had increased and there was an ominous harping among the backstays. the ship was heaving unsteadily, and it was with difficulty we could keep a balance on the wet, sloping deck. overhead the sky was black with the wrack of hurrying clouds, and the sullen grey water around us was already white-topped by the bite of freshening wind. "i am th' resurrection an' the life, saith th' loard"--martin, laid on a slanted hatch, was ready for the road, and we were mustered around the open gangway. the old man was reading the service in his homely doric, and it lost nothing of beauty or dignity in the translation--"an' whosoever liveth an' believeth in me sall never die." he paused and glanced anxiously to windward. there was a deadly check in the wind, and rain had commenced to fall in large, heavy drops. "a hand t' th' tops'l halyards, mister," quietly, then continuing, "i know that my redeemer liveth, an' that he sail stand at th' latter day upon th' airth. an' though ... yet in my flesh sail i see goad...." overhead, the sails were thrashing back and fore, for want of the breeze--still fell the rain, lashing heavily now on us and on the shrouded figure, face up, that heeded it not. hurriedly the old man continued the service--"foreasmuch as it hath pleased almighty goad of his gre--at merrcy t' take unto himself th' so-al of oor de-ar brother, here departed, we therefore commit he's boady t' th' deep ... when th' sea sall give up her daid, an' th' life of th' worl-d t' come, through oor loard, jesus christ." at a sign, the second mate tilted the hatch, the two youngest boys held the flag, and martin, slipping from its folds, took the water feet first in a sullen, almost noiseless, plunge. "oor father which airt in heaven"--with bent head the old man finished the service. he was plainly ill at ease. he felt that the weather was 'making' on him, that the absence from the post of command (the narrow space between wheel and binnacle) was ill-timed. still, his sense of duty made him read the service to a finish, and it was with evident relief he closed the book, saying, "amen! haul th' mains'l up, mister, an' stand by t' square mainyards! ... keep th' watch on deck; it's 'all hands'--thon," pointing to the black murk spreading swiftly over the weather sky. we dragged the wet and heavy mains'l to the yard and stood by, waiting for the wind. fitful gusts came, driving the rain in savage, searching bursts; then would come a deadly lull, and the rain beating on us, straight from above--a pitiless downpour. it was bitter cold, we were drenched and depressed as we stood shivering at the braces, and we wished for the wind to come, to get it over; anything would be better than this inaction. a gust came out of the sou'-west, and we had but squared the yards when we heard the sound of a master wind on the water. shrieking with fury long withheld, the squall was upon us. we felt the ship stagger to the first of the blast; a furious plunge and she was off--smoking through the white-lashed sea, feather-driven before the gale. it could not last; no fabric would stand to such a race. "lower away tops'l halyards!" yelled the old man, his voice scarce audible in the shrilling of the squall. the bo'sun, at the halyards, had but started the yard when the sheet parted; instant, the sail was in ribbons, thrashing savagely adown the wind. it was the test for the weakest link, and the squall had found it, but our spars were safe to us, and, eased of the press, we ran still swiftly on. we set about securing the gear, and in action we gave little thought to the event that had marked our day; but there was that in the shriek of wind in the rigging, in the crash of sundered seas under the bows, in the cries of men at the downhauls and the thundering of the torn canvas that sang fitting requiem for the passing of our aged mariner. xxi doldrums "lee fore-brace!" mister m'kellar stepped from the poop and cast off the brace coils with an air of impatience. it wanted but half an hour of 'knocking off time'--and that half-hour would be time enough, for his watch to finish the scraping of the deck-house--but the wind waits on no man, and already the weather clew of the mainsail was lifting lazily to a shift. it was hard to give up the prospect of having the house all finished and ship-shape before the mate came on deck (and then trimming yards and sail after the _work_ was done); but here was the wind working light into the eastward, and the sails nearly aback, and any minute might bring the old man on deck to inquire, with vehemence, "what the ---- somebody was doing with the ship?" there was nothing else for it; the house would have to stand. "_t--'tt_, lee-fore-brace, the watch there!" buckets and scrapers were thrown aside, the watch mustered at the braces, and the yards were swung slowly forward, the sails lifting to a faint head air. this was the last of the south-east trades, a clean-running breeze that had carried us up from ° s., and brace and sheet blocks, rudely awakened from their three weeks' rest, creaked a long-drawn protest to the failing wind; ropes, dry with disuse, ran stiffly over the sheaves, and the cries of the men at the braces added the human note to a chorus of ship sounds that marked the end of steady sailing weather. "_he--o--ro_, round 'm in, me sons; _ho--io--io_--lay-back-an'-get-yer-muscle-up-fer ghostin' through th' doldrums!" roused by the song (broad hints and deep-sea pleasantries) of the chanteyman, the old man came on deck, and paced slowly up and down the poop, whistling softly for wind, and glancing expectantly around the horizon. whistle as he might, there was no wisp of stirring cloud, no ruffling of the water, to meet his gaze, and already the sea was glassing over, deserted by the wind. soon what airs there were died away, leaving us flat becalmed, all signs of movement vanished from the face of the ocean, and we lay, mirrored sharply in the windless, silent sea, under the broad glare of an equatorial sun. for a space of time we were condemned to a seaman's purgatory; we had entered the 'doldrums,' that strip of baffling weather that lies between the trade winds. we would have some days of calm and heavy rains, sudden squalls and shifting winds, and a fierce overhead sun; and through it all there would be hard labour for our crew (weak and short-handed as we were), incessant hauling of the heavy yards, and trimming of sail. night or day, every faint breath of wind a-stirring, every shadow on the water, must find our sail in trim for but a flutter of the canvas that would move us on; any course with north in it would serve. "drive her or drift her," by hard work only could we hope to win into the steady trade winds again, into the gallant sailing weather when you touch neither brace nor sheet from sunset to sunrise. overhead the sails hung straight from the head-ropes, with not even a flutter to send a welcome draught to the sweltering deck below. everywhere was a smell of blistering paint and molten pitch, for the sun, all day blazing on our iron sides, had heated the hull like a furnace wall. time and again we sluiced the decks, but still pitch oozed from the gaping seams to blister our naked feet, and the moisture dried from the scorched planking almost as quickly as we could draw the water. we waited for relief at sundown, and hoped for a tropical downpour to put us to rights. far to the horizon the sea spread out in a glassy stillness, broken only by an occasional movement among the fish. a widening ring would mark a rise--followed by the quick, affrighted flutter of a shoal of flying fish; then the dolphin, darting in eager pursuit, the sun's rays striking on their glistening sides at each leap and flurry. a few sharp seconds of glorious action, then silence, and the level sea stretching out unbroken to the track of the westing sun. gasping for a breath of cooler air, we watched the sun go down, but there was no sign of wind, no promise of movement in the faint, vapoury cirrhus that attended his setting. * * * * * ten days of calms (blazing sun or a torrent of rain) and a few faint airs in the night time--and we had gained but a hundred miles. 'our smart passage,' that we had hoped for when winds were fair and fresh, was out of question; but deep-sea philosophy has a counter for every occasion, and when the wind headed us or failed, someone among us would surely say, "well, wot's th' odds, anyway? more bloomin' days, more bloomin' dollars, ain't it?" small comfort this to the old man, who was now in the vilest of tempers, and spent his days in cursing the idle steersman, and his nights in quarrelling with the mates about the trim. if the yards were sharp up, it would be, "what are ye thinkin' about, mister? get these yards braced in, an' look damn smart about it!" if they were squared, nothing would do but they must be braced forward, where the sails hung straight down, motionless, as before. everything and everybody was wrong, and the empty grog bottles went '_plomp_' out of the stern ports with unusual frequency. when we were outward bound, the baffling winds that we met off cape horn found him calm enough; they were to be expected in that quarter, and in the stir and action of working the ship in high winds, he could forget any vexation he might have felt; but this was different, there was the delay at the falklands, and here was a further check to the passage--a hundred miles in ten days--provisions running short, grass a foot long on the counter, and still no sign of wind. there would be no congratulatory letter from the owners at the end of this voyage, no kindly commending phrase that means so much to a shipmaster. instead it would be, "we are at a loss to understand why you have not made a more expeditious passage, considering that the _elsinora_, which sailed," etc., etc. it is always a fair wind in bothwell street! it was maddening to think of. "ten miles a day!" old jock stamped up and down the poop, snarling at all and sundry. to the steersman it was, "blast ye, what are ye lookin' round for? keep yer eye on th' royals, you!" the mates fared but little better. "here, mister," he would shout; "what's th' crowd idlin' about for? can't ye find no work t' do? d'ye want me t' come and roust them around? it isn't much use o' me keepin' a dog, an' havin' t' bark myself!" it was a trying time. if the old man 'roughed' the mates, the mates 'roughed' us, and rough it was. all hands were 'on the raw,' and matters looked ugly between the men and officers, and who knows what would have happened, had not the eleventh day brought the wind. it came in the middle watch, a gentle air, that lifted the canvas and set the reef points drumming and dancing at each welcome flutter, and all our truculence and ill-temper vanished with the foam bubbles that rose under our moving fore-foot. the night had fallen dark and windless as any, and the first watch held a record for hauling yards and changing sheets. "'ere ye are, boys," was the call at eight bells. "out ye comes, an' swigs them b----y yards round; windmill tatties, an' th' old man 'owlin' like a dancin' ---- dervish on th' lid!" the old man had been at the bottle, and was more than usually quarrelsome; two men were sent from the wheel for daring to spit over the quarter, and m'kellar was on a verge of tears at some coarse-worded aspersion on his seamanship. the middle watch began ill. when the wind came we thought it the usual fluke that would last but a minute or two, and then, "mains'l up, an' square mainyards, ye idle hounds!" but no, three bells, four bells, five, the wind still held, the water was ruffling up to windward, the ship leaning handsomely; there was the welcome heave of a swell running under. so the watch passed. there were no more angry words from the poop. instead, the old man paced to and fro, rubbing his hands, in high good humour, and calling the steersman "m' lad" when he had occasion to con the vessel. after seeing that every foot of canvas was drawing, he went below, and the second mate took his place on the weather side, thought things over, and concluded that old jock wasn't such a bad sort, after all. we lay about the decks, awaiting further orders. none came, and we could talk of winds and passages, or lie flat on our backs staring up at the gently swaying trucks, watching the soft clouds racing over the zenith; there would be a spanking breeze by daylight. a bell was struck forward in the darkness, and the 'look-out' chanted a long "awl--'s well!" all was, indeed, well; we had picked up the north-east trades. xxii on sunday sunday is the day when ships are sailed in fine style. on week days, when the round of work goes on, a baggy topsail or an ill-trimmed yard may stand till sundown, till the _work_ be done, but sunday is sacred to keen sailing; a day of grace, when every rope must be a-taut-o, and the lifts tended, and the mates strut the weather poop, thinking at every turn of suitable manoeuvres and sail drill that will keep the sailormen from wearying on this, their day of rest. on a fine sunday afternoon we lay at ease awaiting the mate's next discovery in the field of progress. she was doing well, six knots or seven, every stitch of sail set and drawing to a steady wind. from under the bows came the pleasing _thrussh_ of the broken water, from aloft the creak of block and cordage and the sound of wind against the canvas. for over an hour we had been sweating at sheets and halyards, the customary sunday afternoon service, and if the _florence_, of glasgow, wasn't doing her best it was no fault of ours. now it was, "that'll do, the watch!" and we were each following our sunday beat. spectacled and serious, 'sails' was spelling out the advertisements on a back page of an old _home notes_; the two dutchmen were following his words with attentive interest. the dagos, after the manner of their kind, were polishing up their knives, and the 'white men' were brushing and airing their 'longshore togs,' in readiness for a day that the gallant breeze was bringing nearer. a scene of peaceful idling. "as shair's daith, he's gotten his e'e on that fore-tops'l sheet. ah telt ye; ah telt ye!" houston was looking aft. "spit oan yer hauns, lauds! he's seen it. we're gaun tae ha'e anither bit prayer for th' owners!" the mate had come off the poop, and was standing amidships staring steadily aloft. "keep 'oor eyes off that tops'l sheet, i tell 'oo," said welsh john angrily. "he can't see it unless he comes forra'd; if he sees 'oo lookin', it's forra'd he'll be, soon, indeed!" there were perhaps a couple of links of slack in the tops'l sheet, a small matter, but quite enough to call for the watch tackle--on a sunday. the crisis passed; it was a small matter on the main that had called him down, and soon a 'prentice boy was mounting the rigging with ropeyarns in his hand, to tell the buntlines what he thought of them--and of the mate. bo'sun hicks was finishing off a pair of 'shackles,' sailor handles for munro's sea-chest--a simple bit of recreation for a sunday afternoon. they were elaborate affairs of four stranded 'turks-heads' and double rose knots, and showed several distinct varieties of 'coach whipping.' one that was finished was being passed round an admiring circle of shipmates, and hicks, working at the other, was feigning a great indifference to their criticisms of his work. "di--zy, di--zy, gimme yer awnswer, do," he sang with feeling, as he twisted the pliant yarns. "mind ye, 'm not sayin' as them ain't fine shackles"--granger was ever the one to strike a jarring note--"as fine a shackles as ever i see; but there was a dutchman, wot i was shipmates with in th' _ruddy-mantus_, o' london, as _could_ turn 'em out! wire 'earts, 'e made 'em, an' stuffin', an' made up o' round sinnet an' dimon' 'itchin'! prime! w'y! look a here! if ye was t' see one ov 'is shackles on th' hend ov a chest--all painted up an' smooth like--ye couldn't 'elp a liftin' ov it, jest t' try th' grip; an' it 'ud come nat'ral t' th' 'and, jes' like a good knife. them wos shackles as 'e made, an'----" "ho, yus! shackles, wos they? an' them ain't no shackles wot 'm a-finishin' of? no bloomin' fear! them's garters f'r bally dancers, ain't they? or nose rings for sullimans, or ----, or ----. 'ere!" hicks threw aside the unfinished shackle and advanced threateningly on his critic. "'ere! 'oo th' 'ell are ye gettin' at, anywye? d'ye siy as i cawn't make as good a shackles as any bloomin' dutchman wot ever said _yaw_ f'r yes? an' yer _ruddy-mantus_, o' london? i knows yer _ruddy-bloomin-mantus_, o' london! never 'ad a sailorman acrost 'er fo'cas'le door! men wot knowed their work wouldn't sail in 'er, anyhow, an' w'en she tided out at gravesen', all th' stiffs out o' th' 'ard-up boardin'-'ouses wos windin' 'er bloomin' keeleg up! _ruddymantus_? 'er wot 'ad a bow like the side o' 'n 'ouse--comin' up th' mersey channel a-shovin' th' sea afore 'er, an' makin' 'igh water at liverpool two hours afore th' halmanack! that's yer _ruddy-mantus_! an' wot th' 'ell d'you know 'bout sailorizin', anywye? yer never wos in a proper ship till ye come 'ere, on a dead 'un's discharge, an' ye couldn't put dimon' 'itchin' on a broom 'andle, if it wos t' get ye a pension!" here was a break to our peaceful sunday afternoon; nothing short of a round or two could set matters fair after such an insult to a man's last ship! someone tried to pacify the indignant bo'sun. "'ere, bo'sun! wot's about it if 'e did know a blanky dutchman wot made shackles? them o' yourn's good enough. i don't see nuthin' th' matter wi' them!" "no--no! a-course ye don't, 'cos ye'r like that b----y granger there, ye knows damn all 'bout sailorizin' anywye! didn't ye 'ear 'im say as i couldn't make shackles?" a chorus of denials, a babel of confused explanation. "a-course 'e did," shouted the maker of shackles. "'e sed as i didn't know 'ow t' work round sennit an' dimon' 'itchin', as i wos never in a proper ship afore, as 'e knowed a bloomin' dutchman wot could make better shackles nor me; sed as 'ow my shackles worn't fit f'r a grip----" "'ere! 'ere!! bo'sun--i never sed nuthin' ov th' kind!" the unfortunate granger was bowing to the blast. "wot i sed wos, 'ow them was good shackles; as fine a shackles as ever i see--an' i wos only tellin' my mates 'ere 'bout a dutchman wot was in th' _ruddymanthus_ along o' me as could make 'em as smooth to the 'and----" "an' wot's the matter wi' them?" hicks picked up the discarded shackle and threw it at granger, striking him smartly on the chest. "ain't them smooth enough for yer lubberly 'an's, ye long-eared son of a----" "_fore-tops'l sheet, the watch there!!_" the mate had seen the slack links and the row in progress at the same moment. the order came in time; strife was averted. three sulky pulls at a tackle on the sheets, a tightening of the braces, then: "that'll do, the watch there! coil down and put away the tackle!" again the gathering at the fore-hatch. hicks picked up his work and resumed the twisting of the yarns. a great knocking out and refilling of pipes. "'bout that 'ere dutchman, granger? 'im wot ye wos shipmates with." granger glanced covertly at the bo'sun. there was no sign of further hostilities; he was working the yarns with a great show of industry, and was whistling dolefully the while. "well, 'e worn't a proper dutchman, neither," he began pleasantly; "'im bein' married on a white woman in cardiff, wot 'ad a shop in bute road. see? th' ole man o' th' _ruddymanthus_, 'e wos a terror on sailorizin'----" granger paused. again a squint at the bo'sun. there was no sign, save that the whistling had ceased, and the lips had taken a scornful turn. "'e wos a terror on sailorizin', an' w'en we left sydney f'r london, 'e said as 'ow 'e'd give two pun' fer th' best pair o' shackles wot 'is men could make. there worn't many o' us as wor 'ands at shackles, an' there wor only th' dutchman an' a white man in it--a cockney 'e wos, name o' linnet----" the bo'sun was staring steadily at the speaker, who added hastily, "'an a damn good feller 'e wos, too, one o' th' best i ever wos shipmates with; 'e wos a prime sailorman--there worn't many as could teach 'im anythin'----" bo'sun had resumed work, and was again whistling. "it lay a-tween 'im an' this 'ere dutchman. all the w'yage they wos at it. they wos in diff'rent watches, an' th' other fellers wos allus a-settin' 'em up. it would be, ''ere, dutchy, you min' yer eye. linnet, 'e's got a new turn o' threads jes' below th' rose knots'; or, 'look-a-here, linnet, me son, that dutchman's puttin' in glossy beads, an' 'e's waxin' 'is ends wi' stuff wot th' stooard giv' 'im.' the watches wos takin' sides. 'linnet's th' man,' says th' mate's watch. 'dutchy, he's th' fine 'and at sailorizin',' says th' starbowlines. worn't takin' no sides meself"--a side glance at the bo'sun--"me bein' 'andy man along o' th' carpenter, an' workin' all day." the bo'sun put away his unfinished work, and, lighting his pipe--a sign of satisfaction--drew nearer to the group. "off th' western islands they finished their jobs," continued granger (confidently, now that the bo'sun had lit a pipe and was listening as a shipmate ought). "they painted 'em, an' 'ung 'em up t' dry. fine they looked, dark green, an' th' rose knots all w'ite. dutchy's shackles wos werry narrer; worn't made f'r a sailorman's 'and at all, but 'e knowed wot e' wos a-doin' of, for th' ole man wos one o' them dandy blokes wot sails out o' london; 'an's like a lidye's 'e 'ad, an' w'en they takes their shackles aft, 'e cottons t' dutchy's at onest. 'now, them's wot i calls shackles, johnson, me man,' sez 'e. 'jest fits me 'and like a glove,' 'e sez, 'oldin' ov 'em up, an' lettin' 'em fall back an' forrard acrost 'is wrist. 'linnet's is too broad,' 'e sez. 'good work, hexellint work,' 'e sez, 'but too broad for th' 'ands.' linnet, 'e sed as 'ow 'e made shackles for sailormen's 'ands; sed 'e didn't 'old wi' captains 'andlin' their own sea-chests, but it worn't no use--dutchy got th' two quid, an' th' stooard got cramp ov 'is 'ands hevery time 'e took out th' ole man's chest ov a mornin'. an' th' mate giv' linnet five bob an' an ole pair o' sea-boots f'r 'is pair, an' cheap they wos, for linnet, 'e wos a man wot knowed 'is work." "a mate's th' best judge ov a sailorman's work, anywye," said the bo'sun pleasantly. "'im? 'e wor a good judge, too," said the wily granger. "'e said as 'ow linnet's wos out-an-out th' best pair. i knowed they wos, for them dutchmen ain't so 'andy at double rose knots as a white man!" "no! sure they ain't!" xxiii a landfall in the dark of the morning a dense fog had closed around us, shutting in our horizon when we had most need of a clear outlook. we had expected to sight the lizard before dawn to pick up a falmouth pilot at noon, to be anchored in the roads by nightfall--we had it all planned out, even to the man who was to stand the first anchor-watch--and now, before the friendly gleam of the lizard lights had reached us, was fog--damp, chilling, dispiriting, a pall of white, clammy vapour that no cunning of seamanship could avail against. denser it grew, that deep, terrifying wall that shut us off, shipmate from shipmate. overhead, only the black shadow of the lower sails loomed up; forward, the ship was shrouded ghostly, unreal. trailing wreaths of vapour passed before and about the side-lamps, throwing back their glare in mockery of the useless rays. all sense of distance was taken from us: familiar deck fittings assumed huge, grotesque proportions; the blurred and shadowy outlines of listening men about the decks seemed magnified and unreal. sound, too, was distorted by the inconstant sea-fog; a whisper might carry far, a whole-voiced hail be but dimly heard. lifting lazily over the long swell, under easy canvas, we sailed, unseeing and unseen. now and on, the hand fog-trumpet rasped out a signal of our sailing, a faint, half-stifled note to pit against the deep reverberation of a liner's siren that seemed, at every blast, to be drawing nearer and nearer. the old man was on the poop, anxiously peering into the void, though keenest eyes could serve no purpose. bare-headed, that he might the better hear, he stepped from rail to rail--listening, sniffing, striving, with every other sense acute, to work through the fog-banks that had robbed him of his sight. we were in evil case. a dense fog in channel, full in the track of shipping--a weak wind for working ship. small wonder that every whisper, every creak of block or parrel, caused him to jump to the compass--a steering order all but spoken. "where d'ye mark that, now?" he cried, as again the liner's siren sounded out. "where d'ye mark ... d'ye mark ... mark?" the word was passed forward from mouth to mouth, in voices faint and muffled. "about four points on th' port bow, sir!" the cry sounded far and distant, like a hail from a passing ship, though the mate was but shouting from the bows. "aye, aye! stan' by t' hand that foresheet! keep the foghorn goin'!" "... foresheet ... 'sheet ... th' fog'orn ... goin'!" the invisible choir on the main-deck repeated the orders. again the deep bellow from the steamer, now perilously close--the futile rasp of our horn in answer. suddenly an alarmed cry: "o chris'! she's into us! ... the bell, you! the bell! ..." a loud clanging of the forward bell, a united shout from our crew, patter of feet as they run aft, the mate shouting: "down hellum, sir--down hellum, f'r god's sake!" "hard down helm! le' go foresheet!" answered to the mate's cry, the old man himself wrenching desperately at the spokes of the wheel. sharp ring of a metal sheave, hiss of a running rope, clank and throb of engines, thrashing of sails coming hard to the mast, shouts! out of the mist a huge shadowy hull ranges alongside, the wash from her sheering cutwater hissing and spluttering on our broadside. three quick, furious blasts of a siren, unintelligible shouts from the steamer's bridge, a churning of propellers; foam; a waft of black smoke--then silence, the white, clammy veil again about us, and only the muffled throb of the liner's reversed engines and the uneasy lurch of our barque, now all aback, to tell of a tragedy averted. "oh! the murderin' ruffians! the b----y sojers!" the crisis over, the old man was beside himself with rage and indignation. "full speed through weather like this! blast ye!" he yelled, hollowing his hands. "what--ship--is--that?" no answer came out of the fog. the throb of engines died away in a steady rhythm; they would be on their course again, 'slowed down,' perhaps, to twelve knots, now that the nerves of the officer of the watch had been shaken. slowly our barque was turned on heel, the yards trimmed to her former course, and we moved on, piercing the clammy barrier that lay between us and a landfall. "well, young fellers? wha' d'ye think o' that now?" bo'sun was the first of us to regain composure. "goin' dead slow, worn't 'e? 'bout fifteen, i sh'd siy! that's the wye wi' them mail-boat fellers: monday, five 'undred mile; toosd'y, four-ninety-nine; we'n'sd'y, four-ninety-height 'n 'arf--'slowed on haccount o' fog'--that's wot they puts it in 'er bloomin' log, blarst 'em!" "silence, there--main-deck!" the old man was pacing across the break of the poop, pausing to listen for sound of moving craft. bo'sun hicks, though silenced, had yet a further lesson for us youngsters, who might one day be handling twenty-knot liners in such a fog. in the ghostly light of fog and breaking day he performed an uncanny pantomime, presenting a liner's officer, resplendent in collar and cuff, strutting, mincing, on a steamer's bridge. (sailormen walk fore and aft; steamboat men, athwart.) "haw!" he seemed to say, though never a word passed his lips. "haw! them wind-jammers--ain't got no proper fog'orns. couldn't 'ear 'em at th' back o' a moskiter-net! an' if we cawn't 'ear 'em, 'ow do we know they're there, haw! so we bumps 'em, an' serve 'em dem well right, haw!" it was extraordinary! here was a man who, a few minutes before, might, with all of us, have been struggling for his life! dawn broke and lightened the mist about us, but the pall hung thick as ever over the water. at times we could hear the distant note of a steamer's whistle; once we marked a sailing vessel, by sound of her horn, as she worked slowly across our bows, giving the three mournful wails of a running ship. now and again we cast the lead, and it was something to see the channel bottom--grains of sand, broken shell-pebbles--brought up on the arming. fog or no fog, we were, at least, dunting the 'blue pigeon' on english ground, and we felt, as day wore on and the fog thinned and turned to mist and rain, that a landfall was not yet beyond hope. a change of weather was coming, a change that neither the old man nor the mate liked, to judge by their frequent visits to the barometers. at noon the wind hauled into the sou'-west and freshened, white tops curled out of the mist and broke in a splutter of foam under the quarter, channel gulls came screaming and circling high o'er our heads--a sure sign of windy weather. a gale was in the making; a rushing westerly gale, to clear the channel and blow the fog-rack inland. "i don't like the looks o' this, mister." the old man was growing anxious; we had seen nothing, had heard nothing to make us confident of our reckoning. "that aneroid's dropped a tenth since i tapped it last, an' th' mercurial's like it had no bottom! there's wind behind this, sure; and if we see naught before 'four bells,' i'm goin' out t' look for sea-room. channel fogs, an' sou'-westers, an' fifteen-knot liners in charge o' b----y lunatics! gad! there's no room in th' english channel now for square sail, an' when ye----" "sail o! on the port bow, sir!" keen, homeward-bound eyes had sighted a smudge on the near horizon. "looks like a fisherman," said the mate, screwing at his glasses. "he's standing out." "well, we'll haul up t' him, anyway," answered the old man. "starboard a point--mebbe he can give us the bearin' o' th' lizard." bearing up, we were soon within hailing distance. she was a cardiff pilot cutter; c.f. and a number, painted black on her mains'l, showed us that. as we drew on she hoisted the red and white of a pilot on station. "the barque--ahoy! where--are--'oo--bound?" a cheering hail that brought all hands to the rails, to stare with interest at the oilskin-clad figures of the pilot's crew. "falmouth--for orders!" "ah!"--a disappointed note--"'oo are standin' too far t' th' west'ard, capt'in. i saw the falmouth cutter under th' land, indeed, before the fog came down. nor'-by-east--that'll fetch 'm!" "thank 'ee! how does the lizard bear?" "'bout nor'-nor'-west, nine mile, i sh'd say. stand in--as--far--as--thirty-five--fathoms--no less!" the pilot's channel voice carried far. "thank heaven! that's definite, anyway," said the old man, turning to wave a hand towards the cutter, now fast merging into the mist astern. "nor'-nor'-west, nine mile," he said. "that last sight of ours was a long way out. a good job i held by th' lead. keep 'er as she's goin', mister; i'll away down an' lay her off on th' chart--nor'-nor'-west, nine mile," he kept repeating as he went below, fearing a momentary forgetfulness. in streaks and patches the mist was clearing before the westering wind. to seaward we saw our neighbours of the fog setting on their ways. few were standing out to sea, and that, and the sight of a fleet of fishermen running in to their ports, showed that no ordinary weather lay behind the fast-driving fog-wreaths. north of us heavy masses of vapour, banked by the breeze, showed where the land lay, but no land-mark, no feature of coast or headland, stood clear of the mist to guide us. cautiously, bringing up to cast the lead at frequent intervals, we stood inshore, and darkness, falling early, found us a-lee of the land with the misty glare of the lizard lights broad on our beam. here we 'hove-to' to await a pilot--"thirty-five fathoms, no less," the welshman had advised--and the frequent glare of our blue-light signals showed the old man's impatience to be on his way again to falmouth and shelter. eight we burnt, guttering to their sockets, before we saw an answering flare, and held away to meet the pilot. a league or so steady running, and then--to the wind again, the lights of a big cutter rising and falling in the sea-way, close a-lee. "what--ship?" not stentor himself could have bettered the speaker's hail. "the _florence_, of glasgow: 'frisco t' channel. have ye got my orders?" a moment of suspense. hull, it might be, or the continent: the answer might set us off to sea again. "no--not now! (we're right--for falmouth.) we had 'm a fortnight agone, but they'm called in since. a long passage, surely, captain?" "aye! a hundred an' thirty-two days--not countin' three week at th' falklan's, under repair. ... collision with ice in fifty-five, south! ... no proper trades either; an' 'doldrums'! ... a long passage, pilot!" "well, well! you'm be goin' on t' falmouth, i reckon--stan' by t' put a line in my boat!" a dinghy put off from the cutter; a frail cockle-shell, lurching and diving in the short channel sea, and soon our pilot was astride the rail, greeting us, as one sure of a welcome. "you'm jest in time, capten. it's goin' t' blow, i tell 'ee--(mainyard forrard, mister mate!)--an' a west-countryman's allowance, for sure!" he rubbed his sea-scarred hands together, beamed jovially, as though a 'west-countryman's allowance' were pleasant fare.... "th' glass started fallin' here about two--(well--the mainyard!--a bit more o' th' lower tawps'l-brace, mister!)--two o'clock yesterday afternoon--(how's the compass, capten? half a point! keep 'er nor'-east b' nor', when she comes to it, m' lad!)--an' it's been droppin' steady ever since. lot o' craft put in for shelter sin'--(check in th' foreyards now, will 'ee?)--since th' marnin', an' the carrick roads 'll be like west india dock on a wet friday. a good job the fog's lifted. gad! we had it thick this marnin'. we boarded a barque off th' dodman.... thought he was south o' th' lizard, he did, an' was steerin' nor'-east t' make falmouth! a good job we sighted 'im, or he'd a bin--(well--th' foreyard, mister!)--hard upon th' bizzie's shoal, i reckon." the look-out reported a light ahead. "'st. ant'ny's, capten," said our pilot. "will 'ee give 'er th' main to'galns'l, an' we'll be gettin' on?" xxiv falmouth for orders high dawn broke on a scene of storm, on the waters of falmouth bay, white-lashed and curling, on great ragged storm-clouds racing feather-edged over the downs and wooded slopes that environ the fairest harbour of all england. to us, so long habited to the lone outlook of sea and sky, the scene held much of interest, and, from the first grey break of morning, our eyes went a-roving over the windy prospect, seeing incident and novelty at every turn. in the great bay, many ships lay anchored, head to wind, at straining cables. laden ships with trim spars and rigging, red-rusty of hull, and lifting at every scend to the rough sea, the foul green underbody of long voyaging; tall clippers, clean and freshly painted without, but showing, in disorder of gear and rigging, the mark of the hastily equipped outward bound coasters, steam and sail, plunging and fretting at short anchor or riding to the swell in sheltered creeks; lumbermen, with high deck loads bleached and whitened by wind and salt-spume of a winter passage; drifters and pilot cruisers, sea trawlers, banksmen--a gathering of many craft that the great west wind had turned to seek a shelter. riding with the fleet, we lay to double anchor. overhead the high wind whistled eerily through spar and cordage--a furious blast that now and then caught up a crest of the broken harbour sea and flung the icy spray among us. frequent squalls came down--rude bursts of wind and driving sleet that set the face of the harbour white-streaked under the lash, and shut out the near land in a shroud of wind-blown spindrift. to seaward, in the clearings, we could see the hurtling outer seas, turned from the sou'-west, shattering in a high column of broken water at the base of st. anthony's firm headland. we were well out of that, with good cornish land our bulwark. ahead of us lay falmouth town, dim and misty under the stormy sky. a 'sailor-town,' indeed, for the grey stone houses, clustered in irregular masses, extended far along the water front--on the beach, almost, as though the townsfolk held only to business with tide and tide-load, and had set their houses at high-water mark for greater convenience. in spite of the high wind and rough sea, a fleet of shore boats were setting out toward the anchorage. needs a master wind, in truth, to keep the falmouth quay-punts at their moorings when homeward-bound ships lie anchored in the roads, whose lean, ragged sailormen have money to spend! under close-reefed rags of straining canvas, they came at us, lurching heavily in the broken seaway, and casting the spray mast-high from their threshing bows. to most of them our barque was the sailing mark. shooting up in the wind's eye with a great rattle of blocks and _slatt_ of wet canvas, they laid us aboard. there followed a scene of spirited action. a confusion of wildly swaying masts and jarring broadsides--shouts and curses, protest and insult; fending, pushing, sails and rigging entangled in our out-gear. struggling to a foothold, where any offered on our rusty topsides, the boatmen clambered aboard, and the captain was quickly surrounded by a clamorous crowd, extending cards and testimonials, and loudly praying for the high honour of 'sarving' the homeward bound. "capten! i sarved 'ee when 'ee wos mate o' th' _orion_! do 'ee mind pengelly--jan pengelly, capten!"--"boots, capten? damme, if them a'nt boots o' my makin', 'ee 're a-wearin' nah!"--"... can dew 'ee cheaper 'n any man on th' strand, capten!"--"trevethick's th' man, capten! fort--(_th' 'ell 'ee shovin' at?_)--forty year in falmouth, capten!" old jock was not to be hurried in his bestowal of custom. from one he took a proffered cigar; from another a box of matches. lighting up, he seated himself on the skylight settee. "aye, aye! man, but ye're the grand talkers," he said. the crowd renewed their clamour, making bids and offers one against the other. "come down t' th' cabin, one of ye," said the old man, leading the way. a purposeful west-countryman, brushing the crowd aside, followed close at heel. the others stood around, discussing the prospect of business. "scotch barque, a'n't she?" said one. "not much to be made o' them scotch captens! eh, pengelly, 'ee knows? wot about th' capten o' th' _newtonend_, wot 'ee sarved last autumn?" the man addressed looked angrily away, the others laughed: a sore point! "paid 'ee wi' tawps'l sheets, didn't 'e?" said another. "a fair wind, an' him bound west! _tchutt_! 'ee must 'a bin sleepin' sound when th' wind come away, pengelly, m' son!" pengelly swore softly. "don't 'ee mind un, jan, m' boy?" added a third. "mebbe th' capten 'll send 'ee 'spanish notes' when 'e arrives out--santa rosalia, worn't it?" a bustle at the companionway put a stop to the chaff, the purposeful man having come on deck, glum of countenance. "you'm struck a right 'hard case,' boys," he said. "twenty per cent ain't in it--an' i'm off. so long!" one by one the tradesmen had their interview, and returned to deck to talk together, with a half laugh, of scotch 'jews' and hard bargains. hard bargains being better than no business, the contracts were taken up, the crowd dispersed, and we were soon in a position to order our longshore togs and table luxuries--at prices that suggested that someone was warming his boots at our fire. with jan pengelly we bargained for foodstuffs. it was something of a task to get comfortably aboard his 'bumboat,' heaving and tossing as she was in the short sea. in the little cabin, securely battened and tarpaulined against the drenching sprays that swept over the boat, he kept his stock--a stock of everything that a homeward-bounder could possibly require; but his silk scarves and velvet slippers, silver-mounted pipes and sweet tobacco hats, held no attraction for us: it was food we sought--something to satisfy the hunger of five months' voyaging on scant rations--and at that we kept jan busy, handing out and taking a careful tally of our purchases. on deck there was little work for us to do. little could be done, for, as the day wore on to a stormy setting, wind and sea increased, forcing even the hardy boatmen to cast off and run to a sheltered creek at st. mawes. the icy, biting spray, scattered at every plunge of our ground-fast barque, left no corner of the deck unsearched, and, after a half-hearted attempt to keep us going, the mate was forced to order 'stand by.' in half-deck and fo'cas'le we gathered round the red-hot bogies, and talked happily of the voyage's end, of the pay-table, of resolves to stop there when we had come ashore. then came the night, at anchor-watch. tramping for a brief hour, two together, sounding, to mark that she did not drive a-lee; listening to the crash of seas, the harping of the rigging, to the _thrap, thrap_ of wind-jarred halliards; struggling to the rigging at times, to put alight an ill-burning riding lamp; watching the town lights glimmer awhile, then vanish as quick succeeding squalls of snow enwrapped the bay. a brief spell of duty, not ill-passed, that made the warmth of the half-deck and the red glow of the bogie fire more grateful to return to. as day broke the gale was at its height. out of a bleak and threatening west the wind blew ominously true--a whole gale, accompanied by a heavy fall of snow. there could be no boat communication with the shore in such a wind, but, as soon as the light allowed, we engaged the signal station with a string of flags, and learnt that our orders had not yet come to hand, that they would be communicated by signal, if received during the day. after we had re-stowed sails and secured such gear and tackle as had blown adrift in the night, 'stand by' was again the order, reluctantly given, and all hands took advantage of the rare circumstance of spare time and a free pump to set our clothes cleanly and in order. near noon the mate spied fluttering wisps of colour rising on the signal yard ashore. steadying himself in a sheltered corner, he read the hoist: w.q.h.l.--our number. "aft here, you boys, an' hand flags," he shouted. never was order more willingly obeyed; we wanted to know. the news went round that our orders had come. with bared arms, dripping of soapsuds, the hands came aft, uncalled, and the mate was too busy with telescope and signal-book to notice (and rebuke) the general muster of expectant mariners. as our pennant was run up, the hoist ashore was hauled down, to be replaced by a new. the mate read out the flags, singly and distinct, and turned to the pages of the signal-book. "'you--are--ordered--to--proceed--to'--answering pennant up, lively now; damme, i can't rest you boys a minute, but ye run to seed an' sodgerin'!" a moment of suspense; to proceed to--where? the old man was on deck now, with code-book in hand, open at the 'geographicals.' "'b--d--s--t,'" sang out the mate. "b.d.s.t.," repeated the old man, whetting a thumb and turning the pages rapidly. "b.d.s.t., b.d.s--sligo! sligo, where's that, anyway?" "north of ireland, sir," said m'kellar. "somewhere east of broadhaven. i wass in there once, mysel'." "of course, of course! sligo, eh? well, well! i never heard of a square-rigger discharging there--must see about th' charts. ask them to repeat, mister, and make sure." our query brought the same flags to the yard. b.d.s.t.--sligo, without a doubt--followed by a message, "letters will be sent off as soon as weather moderates." there was a general sense of disappointment when our destination was known; ireland had never even been suggested as a possible finish to our voyage. another injustice! as the afternoon wore on, the wind lessened and hauled into the north. the bleak storm-clouds softened in outline, and broke apart to show us promise of better weather in glimpses of clear blue behind. quickly, as it had got up, the harbour sea fell away. the white curling crests no longer uprose, to be caught up and scattered afar in blinding spindrift. wind, their fickle master, had proved them false, and now sought, in blowing from a new airt, to quell the tumult he had bidden rise. with a prospect of letters--of word from home--we kept an eager look-out for shore-craft putting out, and when our messenger arrived after a long beat, the boat warp was curled into his hand and the side ladder rattled to his feet before he had time to hail the deck. with him came a coasting pilot seeking employ, a voluble welshman, who did not leave us a minute in ignorance of the fact that "he knew th' coast, indeed, ass well ass he knew car--narvon!" then to our letters. how we read and re-read, and turned them back and forward, scanning even the post-mark for further news! * * * * * early astir, we had the lee anchor at the bows before dawn broke. a bright, clear frosty morning, a cloudless sky of deepest blue, the land around wrapped in a mantle of snow--a scene of tranquillity in sea and sky, in marked contrast to the bitter weather of the day before. at the anchorage all was haste and stirring action. a gentle breeze from the north was blowing--a 'soldier's' wind that set fair to east and west, and the wind-bound ships were hurrying to get their anchors and be off, to make the most of it. a swift pilot cutter, sailing tack and tack through the anchorage, was serving pilots on the outward bound, and as each was boarded in turn, the merry _clank-clank_ of windlass pawls broke out, and the chorus of an anchor chantey woke the echoes of the bay. quay punts passed to and fro from ship to shore, lurching, deep-laden with stores, or sailing light to reap the harvest that the west wind had blown them. among them came jan pengelly (anxious that payment 'by tops'l sheets' did not again occur with him), and the welsh coasting pilot who was to sail with us. the weather anchor was strong bedded and loth to come home, and it was as the last of the fleet that we hoisted our number and ran out between pendennis and the head. the old man was in high good humour that he had no towing bills to settle, and walked the poop, rubbing his hands and whistling a doleful encouragement to the chill north wind. safely past the dread manacles, the falmouth pilot left us. we crowded sail on her, steering free, and dark found us in open channel, leaning to a steady breeze, and the lizard lights dipping in the wake astern. xxv "t' wind'ard!" for over a week of strong westerly gales we had kept the open sea, steering to the north as best the wind allowed. a lull had come--a break in the furious succession, though still the sea ran high--and the old man, in part satisfied that he had made his northing, put the helm up and squared away for the land. in this he was largely prompted by the coasting pilot (sick of a long, unprofitable, passage--on a 'lump-sum' basis), who confidently asked to be shown but one speck of irish land, and, "i'll tell 'oo the road t' dub-lin, capt'in!" moderately clear at first, but thickening later, as we closed the land, it was not the weather for running in on a dangerous coast, ill-lighted and unmarked, but, had we waited for clear weather, we might have marked time to the westward until the roses came; the wind was fair, we were over-long on our voyage; sheet and brace and wind in squared sail thrummed a homeward song for us as we came in from the west. at close of a day of keen sailing, the outposts of the irish coast, bleak, barren, inhospitable, lay under our lee--a few bold rocks, around and above wreathed in sea-mist, and the never-dying atlantic swell breaking heavily at base. "iss, indeed, capt'in! the stags! the stags of broad-haven, i tell 'oo," said the pilot, scanning through his glasses with an easy assurance. "indeed to goodness, it iss the best landfall i haf ever seen, capt'in!" though pleased with his navigation, the old man kept his head. "aye, aye," he said. "the stags, eh? well, we'll haul up t' th' wind anyway--t' make sure!" he gave the order, and went below to his charts. rolling heavily, broad to the sea and swell, we lay awhile. there was no sign of the weather clearing, no lift in the grey mist that hung dense over the rugged coast-line. on deck again, the old man stared long and earnestly at the rocky islets, seeking a further guidemark. in the waning daylight they were fast losing shape and colour. only the breaking sea, white and sightly, marked them bold in the grey mist-laden breath of the atlantic. "----'present themselves, consisting of four high rocky islets of from two thirty-three to three ought-six feet in height, an' steep-to,'" he said, reading from a book of sailing directions. "damme! i can only see three." to the pilot, "d'ye know the stags well, mister? are ye sure o' ye're ground?" "_wel, wel_! indeed, capt'in" (mr. williams laughed). "i know the stags, yess! ass well ass i know car-narvon! the stags of broad-haven, i tell 'oo. when i wass master of the _ann pritchard_, of beaumaris, it wass always to the west of ireland we would be goin'. summer and winter, three years, i tell 'oo, before i came to pilotin'--an' there iss not many places between the hull and missen head that i haf not seen in daylight an' dark. it iss the stags, indeed! east, south-east now, capt'in, an' a fine run to sligo bar!" still unassured, the old man turned his glasses on the rocky group. "one--two--three--perhaps that was the fourth just open to the south'ard"--they certainly tallied with the description in the book--"high, steep-to." a cast of the lead brought no decision. forty-seven! he might be ten miles north and south by that and former soundings. it was rapidly growing dark, the wind freshening. if he did not set course by the rocks--stags they seemed to be--he would lose all benefit of landfall--would spend another week or more to the westward, waiting for a rare slant on this coast of mist and foul weather! already eighteen days from falmouth! the chance of running in was tempting! hesitating, uncertain, he took a step or two up and down the poop, halting at turns to stare anxiously at the rocks, in the wind's eye, at the great atlantic combers welling up and lifting the barque to leeward at every rise. on the skylight sat mr. williams, smiling and clucking in his beard that "he did not know the stags, indeed!" "we haul off, pilot," said stout old jock, coming at a decision. "if it had been daylight ... perhaps ... but i'm for takin' no risks. they may be th' stags, belike they are, but i'm no' goin' oan in weather like this! we'll stand out t' th' norrard--'mainyards forrard, mister'--till daylight onyway!" sulkily we hauled the yards forward and trimmed sail, leaving the rocks to fade under curtain of advancing night, our high hopes of making port dismissed. the 'navigators' among us were loud of their growling, as the ship lurched and wallowed in the trough of the sea, the decks waist-high with a wash of icy water--a change from the steadiness and comfort of a running ship. night fell black dark. the moon not risen to set a boundary to sea and sky; no play of high light on the waste of heaving water; naught but the long inky ridges, rolling out of the west, that, lifting giddily to crest, sent us reeling into the windless trough. on the poop the old man and pilot tramped fore and aft, talking together of landfalls and coasting affairs. as they came and went, snatches of their talk were borne to us, the watch on deck--sheltering from the weather at the break. the old man's "aye, ayes," and "goad, man's," and the voluble welshman's "iss, indeed, capt'in," and "i tell 'oo's." the pilot was laying off a former course of action. "... mister williams, he said, i can see that 'oo knows th' coast, he said, an' ... i 'oodn't go in myself, he said; but if 'oo are sure----" "_brea--kers a-head!_"--a stunning period to his tale, came in a long shout, a scream almost, from the look-out! both sprang to the lee rigging, handing their eyes to shield the wind and spray. faint as yet against the sombre monotone of sea and sky, a long line of breaking water leapt to their gaze, then vanished, as the staggering barque drove to the trough; again--again; there could be no doubt. breakers! on a lee shore!! "_mawdredd an'l_! o christ! the stags, capt'in.... my god! my god!" wholly unmanned, muttering in welsh and english, mr. williams ran to the compass to take bearings. old jock came out of the rigging. then, in a steady voice, more ominous than a string of oaths, "luff! down helm, m' lad, an' keep her close!" and to the pilot, "well? what d'ye mak' of it, mister?" "stags, capt'in! _diwedd i_! that i should be mistake.... the others ... god knows! ... if it iss th' stags, capt'in ... the passage t' th' suth'ard.... i know it ... we can run ... if it iss th' stags, capt'in!" "an' if it's no' th' stags! m' goad! hoo many stags d'ye know, mister? no! no! we'll keep th' sea, if she can weather thae rocks ... an' if she canna!!" a mute gesture--then, passionately, "t' hell wi' you an' yer b----y stags: i back ma ship against a worthless pilot! all hands, there, mister--mains'l an' to'galn's'l oan her! up, ye hounds; up, if ye look fur dry berryin'!" all hands! no need for a call! "breakers ahead"--the words that sent us racing to the yards, to out knife and whip at the gaskets that held our saving power in leash. quickly done, the great mainsail blew out, thrashing furiously till steadied by tack and sheet. then topgal'n' sail, the spars buckling to overstrain; staysail, spanker--never was canvas crowded on a ship at such a pace; a mighty fear at our hearts that only frenzied action could allay. shuddering, she lay down to it, the lee rail entirely awash, the decks canted at a fearsome angle; then righted--a swift, vicious lurch, and her head sweeping wildly to windward till checked by the heaving helmsman. the wind that we had thought moderate when running before it now held at half a gale. to that she might have stood weatherly, but the great western swell--spawn of uncounted gales--was matched against her, rolling up to check the windward snatches and sending her reeling to leeward in a smother of foam and broken water. a gallant fight! at the weather gangway stood old jock, legs apart and sturdy, talking to his ship. "stand, good spars," he would say, casting longing eyes aloft. or, patting the taffrail with his great sailor hands, "up tae it, ye bitch! up!! up!!!" as, raising her head, streaming in cascade from a sail-pressed plunge, she turned to meet the next great wall of water that set against her. "she'll stand it, mister," to the mate at his side. "she'll stand it, an' the head gear holds. if she starts that!"--he turned his palms out--"if she starts th' head gear, mister!" "they'll hold, sir! ... good gear," answered the mate, hugging himself at thought of the new lanyards, the stout europe gammon lashings, he had rove off when the boom was rigged. now was the time when sanny armstrong's spars would be put to the test. the relic of the ill-fated _glenisla_, now a shapely to'gallant mast, was bending like a whip! "good iron," he shouted as the backstays twanged a high note of utmost stress. struggling across the heaving deck, the pilot joined the group. brokenly, shouting down the wind, "she'll never do it, capt'in, i tell 'oo! ... an' th' tide.... try th' south passage.... stags, sure! ... see them fair now! ... th' south passage, capt'in.... it iss some years, indeed, but ... i know. _diwedd an'l_! she'll never weather it, capt'in!" "aye ... and weather it ... an' the gear holds! goad, man! are ye sailor enough t' know what'll happen if ah start a brace, wi' this press o' sail oan her? t' wind'ard ... she goes. ne'er failed me yet"--a mute caress of the stout taffrail, a slap of his great hand. "into it, ye bitch! t' wind'ard! t' wind'ard!" staggering, taking the shock and onset of the relentless seas, but ever turning the haughty face of her anew to seek the wind, she struggled on, nearing the cruel rocks and their curtain of hurtling breakers. timely, the moon rose, herself invisible, but shedding a diffused light in the east, showing the high summits of the rocks, upreared above the blinding spindrift. a low moaning boom broke on our strained ears, turning to the hoarse roar of tortured waters as we drew on. "how does 't bear noo, m'kellar? is she makin' oan't?" shouted the old man. the second mate, at the binnacle, sighted across the wildly swinging compass card. "no' sure, sir. ... th' caird swingin' ... think there's hauf a p'int.... hauf a p'int, onyway!" "half a point!" a great comber upreared and struck a deep resounding blow--"that for yeer half a point"--as her head swung wildly off--off, till the stout spanker, the windward driver, straining at the stern sheets, drove her anew to a seaward course. nearer, but a mile off, the rocks plain in a shaft of breaking moonlight. "how now, m'kellar?" "nae change, sir! ... 'bout east, nor'-east ... deefecult ... th' caird swingin'...." the old man left his post and struggled to the binnacle. "east, nor'-east ... east o' that, mebbe," he muttered. then, to 'dutchy,' at the weather helm, "full, m' lad! keep 'er full an' nae mair! goad, man! steer as ye never steered ... th' wind's yer mairk.... goad! d'na shake her!" grasping the binnacle to steady himself against the wild lurches of the staggering hull, the old man stared steadily aloft, unheeding the roar and crash of the breakers, now loud over all--eyes only for the straining canvas and standing spars above him. "she's drawin' ahead, sir," shouted m'kellar, tense, excited. "east, b' nor' ... an' fast!" the old man raised a warning hand to the steersman. "nae higher! nae higher! goad, man! dinna let 'r gripe!" dread suspense! would she clear? a narrow lane of open water lay clear of the bow--broadening as we sped on. "nae higher! nae higher! aff! aff! up hellum, up!" his voice a scream, the old man turned to bear a frantic heave on the spokes. obedient to the helm and the mate's ready hand at the driver sheets, she flew off, free of the wind and sea--tearing past the towering rocks, a cable's length to leeward. shock upon shock, the great atlantic sea broke and shattered and fell back from the scarred granite face of the outmost stag; a seething maelstrom of tortured waters, roaring, crashing, shrilling into the deep, jagged fissures--a shriek of furies bereft. and, high above the tumult of the waters and the loud, glad cries of us, the hoarse, choking voice of the man who had backed his ship. "done it, ye bitch!"--a now trembling hand at his old grey head. "done it! weathered--by goad!" xxvi like a man! spring in the air of it, a bright, keen day, and the mist only strong enough to soften the bold, rugged outline of knocknarea, our sailing mark, towering high and solitary above sligo harbour. the strong west wind that we had fought and bested at the stags turned friendly, had blown us fair to our voyage's end, and now, under easy canvas, we tacked on shore and off, waiting for tide to bear up and float our twenty feet in safety across the bar. at raghly, our signal for a local pilot was loyally responded to. a ship of tonnage was clearly a rare sight in these parts, for the entire male population came off to see us safely in--to make a day of it! old pilots and young, fishermen and gossoons, they swept out from creek and headland in their swift mayo skiffs, and though only one was trinity licensed for our draft of water, the rest remained, to bear willing hands at the braces on the chance of a job at the cargo being given. 'ould andy' was the official pilot--a hardy old farmer-fisherman, weazened by years and the weather. he had donned his best in honour of the occasion--a coarse suit of fearnought serges, quaintly cut, and an ancient top hat, set at a rakish angle. hasty rising showed in razor cuts on his hard blue jowl, and his untied shoes made clatter as he mounted the poop, waving a yellow time-stained license. an odd figure for a master-pilot; but he made a good impression on old jock when he said, simply, "... but bedad, now, cyaptin! sure, oim no hand at thim big yards ov yours, but oi kin show ye where th' daape watther is!" the ship steered to his liking, and all in trim, he walked the poop, showing a great pride of his importance as a navigator of twenty feet. suddenly--at no apparent call--he stepped to the side where his boat was towing. "what-t," he yelled. "ach, hoult yer whisht! what-t are yez shoutin' about? what-t? ast the cyaptin f'r a bit av 'baccy f'r th' byes in th' boat! indade, an' oi will natt ast th' dacent gintilman f'r a bit av 'baccy f'r th' byes in th' boat! what-t? ach, hoult yer whisht, now!" joining the captain he resumed the thread of his description of sligo port, apparently unheeding the old man's side order to the steward that sent a package of hard tobacco over the rail. "... an' ye'll lie at rosses point, cyaptin, till ye loighten up t' fourteen faate. thin, thr'll be watther f'r yes at th' quay, but..." (another tangent to the lee rail.) ... "ach! what-t's th' matther wit' ye now. be m' sowl, it's heart-breakin' ye are, wit' yer shoutin' an' that-t! what-t? salt baafe an' a few bisskits! no! oi will natt!! ast 'im yersilf f'r a bit av salt baafe an' a few bisskits, bad scran t' ye, yes ongrateful thaaves!" we are homeward bound; the beef and biscuits go down. after them, "a tarn sail--jest a rag, d'ye moind, t' make a jib f'r th' ould boat"; then, "a pat av paint an' a brush"--it becomes quite exciting with ould andy abusing his boat's crew at every prompted request. we are beginning to wager on the nature of the next, when sent to the stations for anchoring. ould andy, with an indignant gesture and shake of his fists, turns away to attend to his more legitimate business, and, at his direction, we anchor to seaward of the bar. the wind that has served us so well has died away in faint airs, leaving a long glassy swell to score the placid surface of the bay and set a pearly fringe on the distant shore. the tide moves steadily in flood, broadening in ruffling eddies at the shoals of the bar. on a near beacon a tide gauge shows the water, and when sail is furled and the yards in harbour trim we have naught to do but reckon our wages, and watch the rising water lapping, inch by inch, on the figured board. from seaward there is little to be seen of the countryside. the land about is low to the coast, but far inland blue, mist-capped ranges stand bold and rugged against the clear northern sky. beyond the bar the harbour lies bare of shipping--only a few fishing skiffs putting out under long sweeps, and the channel buoys bobbing and heaving on the long swell. a deserted port we are come to after our long voyage from the west! "that'll be th' _maid o' th' moy_, cyaptin," said ould andy, squinting through the glasses at smoke-wrack on the far horizon. "hot-fut from ballina, t' tow ye in. an' rory kilgallen may save his cowl, bedad, f'r we'll naade two fut av watther yet before we get acrost. bedad"--in high glee--"he'll nat-t be after knowin' that it's twinty faate, no liss, that ould andy is bringin' in this day!" with a haste that marks her skipper's anxiety to get a share of the good things going, the _maid_, a trim little paddle tug, draws nigh, and soon a high bargaining begins between old jock and the tugman, with an eager audience to chorus, "d'ye hear that-t, now!" at each fiery period. rory has the whip hand--and knows it. no competition, and the tide making inch by inch on the beacon gauge! for a time old jock holds out manfully. "goad, no! i'll kedge th' hooker up t' sligo quay before i give ye that!" but high water at hand and no sign of wind, he takes the tug on at a stiff figure, and we man the windlass, tramping the well-worn round together for the last time. _leave her_ is the set chantey for finish of a voyage, and we roar a lusty chorus to granger, the chanteyman. "o! leave 'r john-ny, leave 'r like a man, (_an' leave 'r, john-ny, leave 'r!_) oh! leave 'r, john-ny, leave 'r when ye can, (_an' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!_") a hard heave, and the tug lying short. a merseyman would have the weight off the cable by this. "o! soon we'll 'ear 'th ol' man say, (_leave 'r, john-ny, leave 'r!_) ye kin go ashore an' take yer pay, (_an' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!_") "heave, byes," the gossoons bearing stoutly on the bars with us. "heave, now! he's got no frin's!" "o! th' times wos 'ard, an' th' wages low, (_leave 'r, john-ny, leave 'r!_) th' w'yage wos long, an' th' gales did blow, (_an' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!"_) check--and rally; check--a mad rush round--the anchor dripping at the bows, and we move on across the eddies of the bar in wake of the panting tug. a short tow, for all the bargaining, and at rosses point we bring up to moorings--the voyage at an end. "that'll do, you men," said the mate, when the last warp was turned. "pay off at th' custom house at twelve to-morrow!" "that'll do!" few words and simple; but the meaning! free at last! no man's servant! with a hurricane whoop the crew rush to quarters to sling their bags for the road. then the trafficking with the shore, the boatmen reaping a harvest. "a bob th' trip, yer 'anner, on a day like this." the doors of the village inn swinging constantly, and the white-aproned landlord (mopping a heated brow at royal orders), sending messengers to ransack the village cupboards for a reserve of glasses. and when at last the boats are ready for the long pull up to sligo town, and the impatient boatmen shouting, "coom on now, byes! before th' toide tarns; byes, now!" the free men embark, and we, the afterguard (who draw no pay), are left to watch them set off, and wish that our day were quickly come. for a time we hear their happy voices, and answer cheer for cheer, then the dark comes, and the last is a steady _clack_ of rowlocks, and the men singing "_leave 'r, john-ny ... like a man!_" * * * * * two days later, on deck of the glasgow boat, i gazed on my old ship for the last time. at the narrow bend we steamed slow, to steer cautiously past her. the harbour watch were there to give me a parting cheer, and old jock, from the poop, waved a cheery response to my salute. past her, we turned water again, and sped on to sea. it was a day of mist and low clouds, and a weakly sun breaking through in long slanting shafts of light. over the point a beam was fleeting, playing on the house-tops, shimmering in window glasses, lighting on the water, on the tracery of spar and rigging, and showing golden on the red-rusty hull of the old barque--my home for so long in fair weather and foul. a turn of the steering shut her from my sight, and i turned to go below. "fine ships! fine ships--t' look aat!" the mate of the steamer, relieved from duty, had stopped at my side, sociable. he would be a skye-man by the talk of him. it was good to hear the old speech again. "aye! she's a fine ship." "haf you been th' voyage in her? been long away?" "oh yes! sixteen months this trip!" "saxteen munss! ma grasshius! y'll haf a fine pey oot o' her?" "not a cent! owing, indeed; but my time'll be out in a week, an i'll get my indentures." "oh, yiss! oh, yiss! a bressbounder, eh!" then he gave a half-laugh, and muttered the old formula about "the man who would go to sea for pleasure, going to hell for a pastime!" "whatna voyage did ye haf, now?" he asked, after filling a pipe with good 'golden bar,' that made me empty the bowl of mine, noisily. "oh, pretty bad. gales an' gales. hellish weather off the horn, an' short-handed, an' the house full o' lashin' water--not a dry spot, fore an' aft. 'gad! we had it sweet down there. freezin', too, an' th' sails hard as old harry. ah! a fine voyage, wi' rotten grub an' short commons at that!" "man, man! d'ye tell me that, now! ma grasshius! ah wouldna go in them if ye wass t' gif me twenty pounds a munss!" no; i didn't suppose he would, looking at the clean, well-fed cut of him, and thinking of the lean, hungry devils who had sailed with me. "naw! ah wouldna go in them if ye wass t' gif me thirrty pounss a munss! coaffins, ah caall them! aye, coaffins, that iss what they are!" coffin! i thought of a ship staggering hard-pressed to windward of a ledge of cruel rocks, the breakers shrieking for a prey, and the old grey-haired master of her slapping the rail and shouting, "up t'it, m' beauty! t' windward, ye bitch!" "aye, coaffins," he repeated. "that iss what they are!" i had no answer--he was a steamboat man, and would not have understood. epilogue " " into a little-used dock space remote from harbour traffic she is put aside--out of date and duty, surging at her rusted moorings when the dock gates are swung apart and laden steamships pass out on the road she may no longer travel. the days pass--the weeks--the months; the tide ebbs, and comes again; fair winds carry but trailing smoke-wrack to the rim of a far horizon; head winds blow the sea mist in on her--but she lies unheeding. idle, unkempt, neglected; and the haughty figurehead of her is turned from the open sea. black with the grime of belching factories, the great yards, that could yet spread broad sails to the breeze, swing idly on untended braces, trusses creaking a note of protest, sheet and lift chains clanking dismally against the mast. stout purchase blocks that once _chirrped_ in chorus to a seaman's chantey stand stiffened with disuse; idle rags of fluttering sailcloth mar the tracery of spar and cordage; in every listless rope, every disordered ratline, she flies a signal of distress--a pennant of neglect. her decks, encumbered with harbour gear and tackle, are given over to the rude hands of the longshoreman; a lumber yard for harbour refuse, a dumping ground for the ashes of the bustling dock tugs. on the hatch covers of her empty holds planks and stages are thrown aside, left as when the last of the cargo was dragged from her; hoist ropes, frayed and chafed to feather edges, swing from the yardarms; broken cargo slings lie rotting in a mess of grain refuse. the work is done. there is not a labourer's pay in her; the stevedores are gone ashore. though yet staunch and seaworthy, she stands condemned by modern conditions: conditions that call for a haste she could never show, for a burthen that she could never carry. but a short time, and her owners (grown weary of waiting a chance charter at even the shadow of a freight) may turn their thumbs down, and the old barque pass to her doom. in happy case, she may yet remain afloat--a sheer hulk, drowsing the tides away in some remote harbour, coal-hulking for her steam-pressed successor. and of her crew, the men who manned and steered her? scattered afar on seven seas, learning a new way of seafaring; turning the grip that had held to a life aloft to the heft of a coalman's shovel, the deft fingers that had fashioned a wondrous plan of stay and shroud to the touch of winch valve and lever. only an old man remains, a warden, in keeping with the lowly state of his once trim barque. too old (conservative, may be) to start sea life anew, he has come to shipkeeping--a not unpleasant way of life for an aged mariner, so that he can sit on the hatch on fine nights, with a neighbourly dock policeman or customs watcher and talk of the sea as only he knows it. and when his gossip has risen to go the rounds, what links to the chain of memory may he not forge, casting his old eyes aloft to the gaunt spars and their burden of useless sail? who knows what kindly ghosts of bygone shipmates walk with him in the night watches, when the dock lies silent and the flickering harbour lights are shimmering, reflected in a broad expanse? the end the new readers' library pocket editions of modern english classics printed on thin paper, and bound in flexible cloth. size x / in. s. d. net each. a new series of pocket editions of important copyright works by eminent modern authors many of which have never before been available at a popular price. "_an edition so nice and nimble that it might penetrate anywhere._"--mr. william gerhardi. "_books which every lover of english literature ought to own._"--public opinion. _the six most recent volumes_ edmund blunden . english poems. r. b. cunninghame graham . faith. . scottish stories. michael fairless . the gathering of brother hilarius. mrs. waldo richards . high tide: an anthology. sacheverell sitwell . the hundred and one harlequins. maurice baring . lost diaries. h. belloc . caliban's guide to letters, and lambkin's remains. john beresford . gossip of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries: six studies in the human side of history. augustine birrell . obiter dicta. edmund blunden . the bonadventure: a random journal of an atlantic holiday. . the shepherd and other poems of peace and war. david w. bone . the brassbounder: a tale of the sea. ivor brown . the meaning of democracy. r. b. cunninghame graham . success, and other sketches. . thirteen stories. james oliver curwood . god's country. j. h. fabre . social life in the insect world. . the wonders of instinct: chapters in the psychology of insects. michael fairless . the roadmender john galsworthy . six short plays. william gerhardi . the polyglots: a novel. . futility: a novel. . anton chekov: a critical study. maxim gorky . twenty-six men and a girl, and other stories, with an introduction by edward garnett. w. h. hudson . green mansions: a romance of the tropical forest. . birds and man. . the purple land. . a crystal age. . el ombu. . hampshire days. . birds in london. richard jefferies . amaryllis at the fair. richard kearton, f.z.s. . wild nature's ways. legionnaire . in the foreign legion. robert lynd . the art of letters. arthur machen . the terror: a fantasy edith sitwell . bucolic comedies: poems. osbert sitwell . triple fugue: stories. . argonaut and juggernaut: poems. leslie stephen . english literature and society in the eighteenth century anton tchekoff . the black monk, and other stories. . the kiss, and other stories. gerald duckworth & co., ltd. henrietta street, london, w.c. miles wallingford sequel to afloat and ashore. by j. fenimore cooper. . preface the conclusion of this tale requires but little preface. many persons may think that there is too much of an old man's despondency in a few of the opinions of this portion of the work; but, after sixty, it is seldom we view the things of this world _en beau_. there are certain political allusions, very few in number, but pretty strong in language, that the signs of the times fully justify, in the editor's judgment; though he does not profess to give his own sentiments in this work, so much as those of the subject of the narrative himself. "the anti-rent combination," for instance, will prove, according to the editor's conjectures, to be one of two things in this community--the commencement of a dire revolution, or the commencement of a return to the sounder notions and juster principles that prevailed among us thirty years since, than certainly prevail to-day. there is one favourable symptom discoverable in the deep-seated disease that pervades the social system: men dare, and do, deal more honestly and frankly with the condition of society in this country, than was done a few years since. this right, one that ought to be most dear to every freeman, has been recovered only by painful sacrifices and a stern resolution; but recovered it has been, in some measure; and, were the pens of the country true to their owners' privileges, we should soon come to a just view of the sacred nature of private character, as well as the target-like vulnerability of public follies and public vice. it is certain that, for a series of dangerous years, notions just the reverse of this have prevailed among us, gradually rendering the american press equally the vehicle of the most atrocious personal calumny, and the most flatulent national self-adulation. it is under such a state of things that the few evils alluded to in this work have had their rise. bodies of men, however ignorant or small, have come to consider themselves as integral portions of a community that never errs, and, consequently, entitled to esteem themselves infallible. when in debt, they have fancied it political liberty to pay their debts by the strong hand; a very easy transition for those who believe themselves able to effect all their objects. the disease has already passed out of new york into pennsylvania; it will spread, like any other epidemic, throughout the country; and there will soon be a severe struggle among us, between the knave and the honest man. let the class of the latter look to it. it is to be hoped it is still sufficiently powerful to conquer. these few remarks are made in explanation of certain opinions of mr. wallingford, that have been extorted from him by the events of the day, as he was preparing this work for the press; remarks that might seem out of place, were it not a part of his original plan, which contemplated enlarging far more than he has, indeed, on some of the prominent peculiarities of the state of society in which he has passed the greater part of his days. miles wallingford chapter i. --"but i'll not chide thee; let shame come when it will, i do not call it; i do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, nor tell tales of thee to high-judging jove; mend when thou canst--" lear. it is almost as impossible to describe minutely what occurred on the boat's reaching the wallingford, as to describe all the terrific incidents of the struggle between drewett and myself in the water. i had sufficient perception, however, to see, as i was assisted on board by mr. hardinge and neb, that lucy was not on deck. she had probably gone to join grace, with a view to be in readiness for meeting the dire intelligence that was expected. i afterwards learned that she was long on her knees in the after-cabin, engaged in that convulsive prayer which is apt to accompany sudden and extreme distress in those who appeal to god in their agony. during the brief moments, and they were but mere particles of time, if one can use such an expression, in which my senses could catch anything beyond the horrid scene in which i was so closely engaged, i had heard shrill screams from the lungs of chloe; but lucy's voice had not mingled in the outcry. even now, as we were raised, or aided, to the deck, the former stood, with her face glistening with tears, half convulsed with terror and half expanding with delight, uncertain whether to laugh or to weep, looking first at her master and then at her own admirer, until her feelings found a vent in the old exclamation of "der feller!" it was fortunate for andrew drewett that a man of post's experience and steadiness was with us. no sooner was the seemingly lifeless body on board, than mr. hardinge ordered the water-cask to be got out; and he and marble would have soon been rolling the poor fellow with all their might, or holding him up by the heels, under the notion that the water he had swallowed must be got out of him, before he could again breathe; but the authority of one so high in the profession soon put a stop to this. drewett's wet clothes were immediately removed, blankets were warmed at the galley, and the most judicious means were resorted to, in order to restore the circulation. the physician soon detected signs of life, and, ordering all but one or two assistants to leave the spot, in ten minutes drewett was placed in a warm bed, and might be considered out of danger. the terrific scene enacted so directly before his eyes, produced an effect on the _albon_-ny man, who consented to haul aft his main-sheet, lower his studding-sail and top-sail, come by the wind, stand across to the wallingford, heave-to, and lower a boat. this occurred just as drewett was taken below; and, a minute later, old mrs. drewett and her two daughters, helen and caroline, were brought alongside of us. the fears of these tender relatives were allayed by my report; for, by this time, i could both talk and walk; and post raised no objection to their being permitted to go below. i seized that opportunity to jump down into the sloop's hold, where neb brought me some dry clothes; and i was soon in a warm, delightful glow, that contributed in no small degree to my comfort. so desperate had been my struggles, however, that it took a good night's rest completely to restore the tone of my nerves and all my strength. my arrangements were barely completed, when i was summoned to the cabin. grace met me with extended arms. she wept on my bosom for many minutes. she was dreadfully agitated as it was; though happily she knew nothing of the cause of chloe's screams, and of the confusion on deck, until i was known to be safe. then lucy communicated all the facts to her in as considerate a manner as her own kind and gentle nature could dictate. i was sent for, as just stated, and caressed like any other precious thing that its owner had supposed itself about to lose. we were still in an agitated state, when mr. hardinge appeared at the door of the cabin, with a prayer-book in his hand. he demanded our attention, all kneeling in both cabins, while the good, simple-minded old man read some of the collects, the lord's prayer, and concluded with the thanksgiving for "a safe return from sea"! he would have given us the marriage ceremony itself, before he would have gone out of the prayer-book for any united worship whatever. it was impossible not to smile at this last act of pious simplicity, while it was equally impossible not to be touched with such an evidence of sincere devotion. the offering had a soothing influence on all our feelings, and most especially on those of the excited females. as i came out into the main-cabin, after this act of devotion, the excellent divine took me in his arms, kissed me just as he had been used to do when a boy, and blessed me aloud. i confess i was obliged to rush on deck to conceal my emotion. in a few minutes i became sufficiently composed to order sail made on our course, when we followed the orpheus up the river, soon passing her, and taking care to give her a wide berth; a precaution i long regretted not having used at first. as mrs. drewett and her two daughters refused to quit andrew, we had the whole family added to our party, as it might be, per force. i confess to having been sufficiently selfish to complain a little, to myself only, however, at always finding these people in my way, during the brief intervals i now enjoyed of being near lucy. as there was no help after seeing all the canvass spread, i took a seat in one of the chairs that stood on the main-deck, and began, for the first time, coolly to ponder on all that had just passed. while thus occupied, marble drew a chair to my side, gave me a cordial squeeze of the hand, and began to converse. at this moment, neatly tricked out in dry clothes, stood neb on the forecastle, with his arms folded, sailor-fashion, as calm as if he had never felt the wind blow; occasionally giving in, however, under the influence of chloe's smiles and unsophisticated admiration. in these moments of weakness the black would bow his head, give vent to a short laugh when, suddenly recovering himself, he would endeavour to appear dignified. while this pantomime was in the course of exhibition forward, the discourse aft did not flag. "providence intends you for something remarkable, miles," my mate continued, after one or two brief expressions of his satisfaction at my safety; "something uncommonly remarkable, depend on it. first, you were spared in the boat off the isle of bourbon; then, in another boat off delaware bay; next, you got rid of the frenchman so dexterously in the british channel; after that, there was the turn-up with the bloody smudge and his companions; next comes the recapture of the crisis; sixthly, as one might say, you picked me up at sea, a runaway hermit; and now here, this very day, seventhly and lastly, are you sitting safe and sound, after carrying as regular a lubber as ever fell overboard, on your head and shoulders, down to the bottom of the hudson, no less than three times! i consider you to be the only man living who ever sank his three times, and came up to tell of it, with his own tongue." "i am not at all conscious of having said one word about it, moses," i retorted, a little drily. "every motion, every glance of your eye, boy, tells the story. no; providence intends you for something remarkable, you may rely on _that_. one of these days you may go to congress--who knows?" "by the same rule, you are to be included, then; for in most of my adventures you have been a sharer, besides having quantities that are exclusively your own. remember, you have even been a hermit." "hu-s-h--not a syllable about it, or the children would run after me as a sight. you must have generalized in a remarkable way, miles, after you sunk the last time, without much hope of coming up again?" "indeed, my friend, you are quite right in your conjecture. so near a view of death is apt to make us all take rapid and wide views of the past. i believe it even crossed my mind that _you_ would miss me sadly." "ay," returned marble, with feeling; "them are the moments to bring out the truth! not a juster idee passed your brain than _that_, master miles, i can assure you. missed you! i would have bought a boat and started for marble land, never again to quit it, the day after the funeral. but there stands your cook, fidgeting and looking this way, as if she had a word to put in on the occasion. this expl'ite of neb's will set the niggers up in the world; and it wouldn't surprise me if it cost you a suit of finery all round." "a price i will cheerfully pay for my life. it is as you say--dido certainly wishes to speak to me, and i must give her an invitation to come nearer." dido clawbonny was the cook of the family, and the mother of chloe. whatever hypercriticism might object to her colour, which was a black out of which all the gloss had fairly glistened itself over the fire, no one could deny her being full blown. her weight was exactly two hundred, and her countenance a strange medley of the light-heartedness of her race, and the habitual and necessary severity of a cook. she often protested that she was weighed down by "responserbility;" the whole of the discredit of overdone beef, or under-done fish, together with those which attach themselves to heavy bread, lead-like buckwheat-cakes, and a hundred other similar cases, belonging exclusively to her office. she had been twice married, the last connection having been formed only a twelvemonth before. in obedience to a sign, this important lady now approached. "welcome back, masser mile," dido began with a curtsey, meaning "welcome back from being half-drowned;" "ebberybody _so_ grad you isn't hurt!" "thank you, dido--thank you with all my heart. if i have gained nothing else by the ducking, i have gained a knowledge of the manner in which my servants love me." "lor' bless us all! how we help it, masser mile? as if a body can posserbly help how lub come and go! lub jest like religion, masser mile--some get him, and some don't. but lub for a young masser and a young missus, sah--_dat_ jest as nat'ral, as lub for ole masser and ole missus. i t'ink nut'in' of neider." luckily, i was too well acquainted with the clawbonny dialect to need a vocabulary in order to understand the meaning of dido. all she wished to express was the idea that it was so much a matter of course for the dependants of the family to love its heads, that she did not think the mere circumstance, in itself, worthy of a second thought. "well, dido," i said, "how does matrimony agree with you, in your old age? i hear you took a second partner to yourself, while i was last at sea." dido let her eyes fall on the deck, according to the custom of all brides, let their colour be what it may; manifested a proper degree of confusion, then curtsied, turned her full moon-face so as to resemble a half-moon, and answered, with a very suspicious sort of a sigh-- "yes, masser mile, dat jest so. i did t'ink to wait and ask 'e young masser's consent; but cupid say"--not the god of love, but an old negro of that name, dido's second partner--"but cupid say, 'what odd he make to masser mile; he long way off, and he won't care:' and so, sah, rader than be tormented so by cupid, one had altogedder better be married at once--dat all, sah." "and that is quite enough, my good woman; that everything may be in rule, i give my consent now, and most cheerfully." "t'ankee, sah!" dropping a curtsey, and showing her teeth. "of course the ceremony was performed by our excellent rector, good mr. hardinge?" "sartain, sah--no clawbonny nigger t'ink he marry at all, 'less masser hardinge bless him and say amen. ebberybody say 'e marriage is as good as ole masser and missusses. dis make two time dido got married; and both time good, lawful ceremunny, as ebber was. oh! yes, sah!" "and i hope your change of condition has proved to your mind, dido, now the thing is done. old cupid is no great matter in the way of beauty, certainly; but he is an honest, sober fellow enough." "yes, sah, he _dat_, no one _can_ deny. ah! masser mile, em 'ere step-husband, after all, nebber jest like a body own husband! cupid _berry_ honest, and _berry_ sober; but he only step-husband; and _dat_ i tell him twenty time already, i do t'ink, if trut' was said." "perhaps you have now said it often enough--twenty times are quite sufficient to tell a man such a fact." "yes, sah," dropping another curtsey, "if masser mile please." "i do please, and think you have told him _that_ often enough. if a man won't learn a thing in twenty lessons, he is not worth the trouble of teaching. so tell him he's a step-husband no more, but try something else. i hope he makes chloe a good father?" "lor', sah, he no chloe's fadder, at all--_her_ fadder dead and gone, and nebber come back. i want to say a word to young masser, 'bout chloe and dat 'ere fellow, neb--yes, sah." "well, what is it, dido? i see they like each other, and suppose _they_ wish to get married, too. is that the object of your visit? if so, i consent without waiting to be asked. neb will make no step-husband, i can promise you." "don't be in a hurry, masser mile," said dido, with an eagerness that showed this ready consent was anything but what she wanted. "dere many 'jection to neb, when he ask to marry a young gal in chloe sitiation. you know, sah, chloe now miss grace's own waitin'-maid. nobody else help her dress, or do anything in 'e young missus's room, dan chloe, sheself--my darter, chloe clawbonny!" here was a new turn given to the affair! it was "like master, like man." neb's love (or _lub_, for that was just the word, and just the idea, too) was no more fated to run smooth than my own; and the same objection lay against us both, viz., want of gentility! i determined to say a good word for the poor fellow, however; while it would have been exceeding the usage of the family to interfere in any other manner than by advice, in an affair of the heart. "if chloe is my sister's favourite servant, dido," i remarked, "you are to remember that neb is mine." "dat true, sah, and so chloe say; but dere great difference, masser mile, atween clawbonny and a ship. neb own, himself, young masser, he doesn't even lib in cabin, where you lib, sah." "all that is true, dido; but there is a difference of another sort between a ship and a house. the house-servant may be more liked and trusted than the out-door servant; but we think, at sea, it is more honourable to be a foremast-hand than to be in the cabin, unless as an officer. i was a foremast jack some time, myself; and neb is only in such a berth as his master once filled." "dat a great deal--quite won'erful, sah--berry great deal, and more dan chloe can say, or i can wish her to say. but, sah, dey say now neb has save 'e young masser's life, young masser must gib him free-paper; and no gal of mine shall ebber be free nigger's wife. no, sah; 'scuse me from dat disgrace, which too much for fait'ful ole servant to bear!" "i am afraid, dido, neb is the same way of thinking. i offered him his freedom, the other day, and he refused to receive it. times are changing in this country; and it will be thought, soon, it is more creditable for a black to be free, than to be any man's slave. the law means to free all hands of you, one of these days." "nebber tell me dat, masser mile--dat day nebber come for me or mine; even ole cupid know better dan _dat_. now, sah, misser van blarcum's brom want to have chloe, dreadful; but i nebber consent to sich a uner"--(dido meant union)--"nebber. our family, sah, altogedder too good to marry in among the van blarcums. nebber has been, and never shall be uner atween 'em." "i was not aware, dido, that the clawbonny slaves were so particular about their connections." "won'erful particular, sah, and ebber hab been, and ebber will be. don't t'ink, masser mile, i marry ole cupid, myself, if anoder prop'r connection offer in 'e family; but i prefar him, to marry into any oder family hereabout." "neb is clawbonny, and my great friend; so i hope you will think better of his suit. some day chloe may like to be free; and neb will always have it in his power to make his wife free, as well as himself." "sah, i t'ink, as you say, masser miles, sah--when i hab done t'inkin', sah, hope young masser and young missus hear what ole cook got to say, afore 'ey gives consent." "certainly; chloe is your daughter, and she shall pay you all due respect--for that, i will answer for my sister as well as for myself. we will never encourage disrespect for parents." dido renewed and redoubled her thanks, made another profound curtsey, and withdrew with a dignity that, i dare say, in neb's and chloe's eyes, boded little good. as for myself, i now mused on the character of the things of this world. here were people of the very humblest class known in a nation--nay, of a class sealed by nature itself, and doomed to inferiority--just as tenacious of the very distinctions that were making me so miserable, and against which certain persons, who are wiser than the rest of the world, declaim without understanding them, and even go so far, sometimes, as to deny their existence. my cook reasoned, in her sphere, much as i knew that rupert reasoned, as the drewetts reasoned, as the world reasoned, and, as i feared, even lucy reasoned in my own case! the return of marble, who had left my side as soon as dido opened her budget, prevented my dwelling long on this strange--i had almost said, uncouth--coincidence, and brought my mind back to present things. "as the old woman has spun her yarn, miles," the mate resumed, "we will go on with matters and things. i have been talking with the mother of the youngster that fell overboard, and giving her some advice for the benefit of her son in time to come; and what do you think she gives as the reason for the silly thing he did?" "it is quite out of my power to say--that he was a silly fellow naturally, perhaps." "love. it seems the poor boy is in love with this sweet friend of yours, rupert's sister; and it was nothing more nor less than love which made him undertake to play rope-dancer on our main-boom!" "did mrs. drewett tell you this, with her own mouth, marble?" "that did she, captain wallingford; for, while you were discussing neb and chloe with old dido, we, that is, the doctor, the mother and myself, were discussing andrew and lucy between ourselves. the good old lady gave me to understand it was a settled thing, and that she looked on miss hardinge, already, as a third daughter." this was a strange subject for mrs. drewett to discuss with a man like marble, or even with post; but some allowances were to be made for marble's manner of viewing his own connection with the dialogue, and more for the excited condition of the mother's feelings. she was scarcely yet in possession of all her faculties, and might very well commit an indiscretion of this nature, more especially in her conversation with a man in post's position, overlooking or disregarding the presence of the mate. the effect of all that had passed was to leave a strong impression on my mind that i was too late. lucy must be engaged, and waited only to become of age, in order to make the settlements she intended in favour of her brother, ere she was married. her manner to myself was merely the result of habit and sincere friendship; a little increased in interest and gentleness, perhaps, on account of the grievous wrong she felt we had received from rupert. what right had i to complain, admitting all this to be true? i had scarcely been aware of my own passion for the dear girl for years, and had certainly never attempted to make her acquainted with it. she had made me no pledges, plighted no faith, received no assurances of attachment, was under no obligation to wait my pleasure. so sincere was my affection for lucy, that i rejoiced, even in my misery, when i remembered that not the slightest imputation could be laid on her deportment, truth, or frankness. on the whole, it was perhaps the more natural that she should love andrew drewett, one she met for the first time after she became of an age to submit to such impressions, than to love me, whom she had been educated to treat with the familiarity and confidence of a brother. yes; i was even just enough to admit this. the scene of the morning, and the presence of mrs. drewett and her daughters, produced an entire change in the spirits and intercourse of our party. the ladies remained below most of the time; and as for drewett himself, he was advised by post not to quit his berth until he found his strength restored. mr. hardinge passed much time by andrew drewett's side, offering such attentions as might be proper from a father to a son. at least it so seemed to me. this left marble and myself in possession of the quarter-deck, though we had occasional visits from all below--grace, lucy, and old mrs. drewett, excepted. in the mean time, the wallingford continued to ascend the river, favoured until evening by a light southerly breeze. she outsailed everything; and, just as the sun was sinking behind the fine termination of the cattskill range of mountains, we were some miles above the outlet of the stream that has lent it its name. a lovelier landscape can scarce be imagined than that which presented itself from the deck of the sloop. it was the first time i had ascended the river, or indeed that any of the clawbonny party had been up it so high, mr. hardinge excepted; and everybody was called on deck to look at the beauties of the hour. the sloop was about a mile above hudson, and the view was to be gazed at towards the south. this is perhaps the finest reach of this very beautiful stream, though it is not the fashion to think so; the highlands being the part usually preferred. it is easy enough for me, who have since lived among the sublimity of the swiss and italian lakes, to understand that there is nothing of a very sublime character, relatively considered, in any of the reaches of the hudson; but it would be difficult to find a river that has so much which is exquisitely beautiful; and this, too, of a beauty which borders on the grand. lucy was the first person to create any doubts in my mind concerning the perfection of the highlands. just as the cockney declaims about richmond hill--the _inland_ view from mont-martre, of a clouded day, is worth twenty of it--but just as the provincial london cockney declaims about richmond hill, so has the provincial american been in the habit of singing the praises of the highlands of the hudson. the last are sufficiently striking, i will allow; but they are surpassed in their own kind by a hundred known mountain landscapes; while the softer parts of the river have scarcely a rival. lucy, i repeat, was the first person to teach me this distinction--lucy, who then had never seen either alps or apennines. but her eye was as true as her principles, her tongue, or her character. all was truth about this dear girl--truth unadulterated and unalloyed. "certainly, my dear mrs. drewett," the dear girl said, as she stood supporting the old lady, who leaned on her arm, gazing at the glorious sunset, "the highlands have nothing to equal this! to me this seems all that art could achieve; while i confess the views in the mountains have ever appeared to want something that the mind can imagine." mrs. drewett, though a respectable, was a common-place woman. she belonged to the vast class that do most of their thinking by proxy; and it was a sort of heresy in her eyes to fancy anything could surpass the highlands. poor mrs. drewett! she was exceedingly cockney, without having the slightest suspicion of it. _her_ best ought to be everybody else's best. she combated lucy's notion warmly, therefore, protesting that the highlands _could_ not have a superior. this is a sort of argument it is not easy to overcome; and her companion was content to admire the scene before her, in silence, after urging one or two reasons, in support of her opinion, in her own quiet, unpretending manner. i overheard this little argument, and was a close observer of the manner of the parlies. mrs. drewett was extremely indulgent, even while warmest, seeming to me to resist lucy's opinion as an affectionate mother would contend with the mistaken notions of a very favourite child. on the other hand, lucy appeared confiding, and spoke as the young of her sex are most apt to do, when they utter their thoughts to ears they feel must be indulgent. a sunset cannot last for ever; and even this, sweet as it had been, soon became tame and tasteless to me. as the ladies now disappeared, i determined to anchor, the wind failing, and the tide coming ahead. marble and myself had a sort of state-room fitted up for us in the hold; and thither i was glad to retire, standing really in need of rest, after the terrible exertions of that day. what passed in the cabins that evening, i had no opportunity of knowing, though i heard laughing, and happy female voices, through the bulkheads, hours after my own head was on its pillow. when marble came down to turn in, he told me the cabin party had revived, and that there had been much pleasant discourse among the young people; and this in a way to cause even him to derive great satisfaction as a listener. neb gave us a call at daylight. the wind was fresh at west-north-west, but the tide was just beginning to run on the flood. i was so impatient to be rid of my guests, that all hands were called immediately, and we got the sloop under-way. the pilot professed himself willing to beat up through the narrow passages above, and, the wallingford's greatest performance being on the wind, i was determined to achieve my deliverance that very tide. the sloop drew more water than was usual for the up-river craft, it is true, but she was light, and, just at the moment, could go wherever the loaded albany vessels went. those were not the days of vast public works; and as for sea-going craft, none had ever crossed the overslaugh, so far as had come to my knowledge. times have changed greatly, since; but the reader will remember i am writing of that remote period in american history, the year of our lord . the anchor was no sooner aweigh, than the deck became a scene of activity. the breeze was stiff, and it enabled me to show the wallingford off to advantage among the dull, flat-bottomed craft of that day. there were reaches in which the wind favoured us, too; and, by the time the ladies reappeared, we were up among the islands, worming our way through the narrow channels with rapidity and skill. to me, and to marble also, the scene was entirely novel; and between the activity that our evolutions required, and the constant change of scene, we had little leisure to attend to those in the cabin. just as breakfast was announced, indeed, the vessel was approaching the more difficult part of the river; and all we got of that meal, we took on deck, at snatches, between the many tacks we made. as good-luck would have it, however, the wind backed more to the westward about eight o'clock; and we were enabled to stem the ebb that began to make at the same time. this gave us the hope of reaching the end of our passage without again anchoring. at length we reached the overslaugh, which, as was apt to be the case, was well sprinkled with vessels aground. the pilot carried us through them all, however; if not literally with flying colours, which would have been regarded as an insult by the less fortunate, at least with complete success. then albany came into view, leaning against its sharp acclivity, and spreading over its extensive bottom-land. it was not the town it is to-day, by quite three-fourths less in dwellings and people; but it was then, as now, one of the most picturesque-looking places in america. there is no better proof, in its way, how much more influence the talking and writing part of mankind have than the mere actors, than is to be found in the relative consideration of albany, on the scale of appearance and position, as compared with those enjoyed by a hundred other towns, more especially in the eastern states. almost without a competitor, as to beauty of situation, or at least on a level with richmond and burlington, among the inland towns, it was usually esteemed a dutch place that every pretender was at liberty to deride, in my younger days. we are a people by no means addicted to placing our candle under the bushel and yet i cannot recall a single civil expression in any native writer touching the beauties of albany. it may have been owing to the circumstance that so much of the town was under the hill at the beginning of the century, and that strangers had few opportunities of seeing it to advantage; but i rather think its want of the anglo-saxon origin was the principal reason it was so little in favour. glad enough was i to reach the wharves, with their line of storehouses, that then literally spouted wheat into the sloops that crowded the quays, on its way to feed the contending armies of europe. late as it was in the season, wheat was still pouring outward through all the channels of the country, enriching the farmers with prices that frequently rose as high as two dollars and a half the bushel, and sometimes as high as three. yet no one was so poor in america as to want bread! the dearer the grain, the higher the wages of the labourer, and the better he lived. it was not at all late when the wallingford was slowly approaching the wharf where it was intended to bring-up. there was a sloop ahead of us, which we had been gradually approaching for the last two hours, but which was enabled to keep in advance in consequence of the lightness of the wind. this dying away of the breeze rendered the approaching noon-tide calm and pleasant; and everybody in-board, even to grace, came on deck, as we moved slowly past the dwellings on the eastern bank, in order to get a view of the town. i proposed that the clawbonny party should land, contrary to our original intention, and profit by the opportunity to see the political capital of the state at our leisure. both grace and lucy were inclined to listen favourably; and the drewetts, andrew and his sisters, were delighted at this prospect of our remaining together a little longer. just at this moment, the wallingford, true to her character, was coming up with the sloop ahead, and was already doubling on her quarter. i was giving some orders, when lucy and chloe, supporting grace, passed me on their way to the cabin. my poor sister was pale as death, and i could see that she trembled so much she could hardly walk. a significant glance from lucy bade me not to interfere, and i hid sufficient self-command to obey. i turned to look at the neighbouring sloop, and found at once an explanation of my sister's agitation. the mertons and rupert were on her quarter-deck, and so near as to render it impossible to avoid speaking, at least to the former. at this embarrassing instant lucy returned to my side, with a view, as i afterwards learned, to urge me to carry the wallingford to some place so distant, as to remove the danger of any intercourse. this accident rendered the precaution useless, the whole party in the other vessel catching sight of my companion at the same moment. "this is an agreeable surprise!" called out emily, in whose eyes rupert's sister could not be an object of indifference. "by your brother's and mrs. drewett's account, we had supposed you at clawbonny, by the bed-side of miss wallingford." "miss wallingford is here, as are my father, and mrs. drewett, and--" lucy never let it be known who that other "and" was intended to include. "well, this is altogether surprising!" put in rupert, with a steadiness of voice that really astounded me. "at the very moment we were giving you lots of credit for your constancy in friendship, and all that sort of thing, here you are, mademoiselle lucie, trotting off to the springs, like all the rest of us, bent on pleasure." "no, rupert," answered lucy, in a tone which i thought could not fail to bring the heartless coxcomb to some sense of the feeling he ought to manifest; "i am going to no springs. dr. post has advised a change of scene and air for grace; and miles has brought us all up in his sloop, that we may endeavour to contribute to the dear sufferer's comfort, in one united family. we shall not land in albany." i took my cue from these last words, and understood that i was not even to bring the sloop alongside the wharf. "upon my word, it is just as she says, colonel!" cried rupert. "i can see my father on the forecastle, with post, and divers others of my acquaintance. ay--and there's drewett, as i live! wallingford, too! how fare you, noble captain, up in this fresh-water stream? you must be strangely out of your latitude." "how do you do, mr. hardinge?" i coldly returned the salutation; and then i was obliged to speak to the major and his daughter. but neb was at the helm, and i had given him a sign to sheer further from our companion. this soon reduced the intercourse to a few wavings of handkerchiefs, and kissings of the hand, in which all the drewetts came in for a share. as for lucy, she walked aside, and i seized the occasion to get a word in private. "what am i to do with the sloop?" i asked. "it will soon be necessary to come to some decision." "by no means go to the wharf. oh! this has been most cruel. the cabin-windows are open, and grace _must_ have heard every syllable. not even a question as to her health! i dread to go below and witness the effect." i wished not to speak of rupert to his sister, and avoided the subject. the question, therefore, was simply repeated. lucy inquired if it were not possible to land our passengers without bringing-up, and, hearing the truth on the subject, she renewed her entreaties not to land. room was taken accordingly, and the sloop, as soon as high enough, was rounded-to, and the boat lowered. the portmanteau of post was placed in it, and the drewetts were told that everything was ready to put them ashore. "surely we are not to part thus!" exclaimed the old lady. "you intend to land, lucy, if not to accompany us to ballston? the waters might prove of service to miss wallingford." "dr. post thinks not, but advises us to return tranquilly down the river. we may yet go as far as sandy hook, or even into the sound. it all depends on dear grace's strength and inclinations." protestations of regret and disappointment followed, for everybody appeared to think much of lucy, and very little of my poor sister. some attempts were even made at persuasion; but the quiet firmness of lucy soon convinced her friends that she was not to be diverted from her purpose. mr. hardinge, too, had a word to say in confirmation of his daughter's decision; and the travellers reluctantly prepared to enter the boat. after he had assisted his mother over the sloop's side, andrew drewett turned to me, and in fair, gentleman-like, manly language, expressed his sense of the service i had rendered him. after this acknowledgment, the first he had made, i could do no less than shake his hand; and we parted in the manner of those who have conferred and received a favour. i could perceive that lucy's colour heightened, and that she looked exceedingly gratified, while this little scene was in the course of being acted, though i was unable to comprehend the precise feeling that was predominant in her honest and truthful heart. did that increased colour proceed from pleasure at the handsome manner in which drewett acquitted himself of one of the most embarrassing of all our duties--the admission of a deep obligation? or was it in any manner connected with her interest in me? i could not ask, and of course did not learn. this scene, however, terminated our intercourse with the drewetts, for the moment; the boat pulling away immediately after. chapter ii. "----misplaced in life, i know not what i could have been, but feel i am not what i should be--let it end." sardanapalus. glad enough was i to find the quiet and domestic character of my vessel restored. lucy had vanished as soon as it was proper; but, agreeably to her request, i got the sloop's head down-stream, and began our return-passage, without even thinking of putting a foot on the then unknown land of albany. marble was too much accustomed to submit without inquiry to the movements of the vessel he was in, to raise any objections; and the wallingford, her boat in tow, was soon turning down with the tide, aided by a light westerly wind, on her homeward course. this change kept all on deck so busy, that it was some little time ere i saw lucy again. when we did meet, however, i found her sad, and full of apprehension. grace had evidently been deeply hurt by rupert's deportment. the effect on her frame was such, that it was desirable to let her be as little disturbed as possible. lucy hoped she might fall asleep; for, like an infant, her exhausted physical powers sought relief in this resource, almost as often as the state of her mind would permit. her existence, although i did not then know it, was like that of the flame which flickers in the air, and which is endangered by the slightest increase of the current to which the lamp may be exposed. we succeeded in getting across the overslaugh without touching, and had got down among the islands below coejiman's,[ ] when we were met by the new flood. the wind dying away to a calm, we were compelled to select a berth, and anchor. as soon as we were snug, i sought an interview with lucy; but the dear girl sent me word by chloe that grace was dozing, and that she could not see me just at that moment, as her presence in the cabin was necessary in order to maintain silence. on receiving this message, i ordered the boat hauled up alongside; marble, myself and neb got in; when the black sculled us ashore--chloe grinning at the latter's dexterity, as with one hand, and a mere play of the wrist, he caused the water to foam under the bows of our little bark. [footnote : queemans, as pronounced. this is a dutch, not an indian name, and belongs to a respectable new york family.] the spot where we landed was a small but lovely gravelly cove, that was shaded by three or four enormous weeping-willows, and presented the very picture of peace and repose. it was altogether a retired and rural bit, there being near it no regular landing, no reels for seines, nor any of those signs that denote a place of resort. a single cottage stood on a small natural terrace, elevated some ten or twelve feet above the rich bottom that sustained the willows. this cottage was the very _beau idéal_ of rustic neatness and home comfort. it was of stone, one story in height, with a high pointed roof, and had a dutch-looking gable that faced the river, and which contained the porch and outer door. the stones were white as the driven snow, having been washed a few weeks before. the windows had the charm of irregularity; and everything about the dwelling proclaimed a former century, and a regime different from that under which we were then living. in fact, the figures , let in as iron braces to the wall of the gable, announced that the house was quite as old as the second structure at clawbonny. the garden of this cottage was not large, but it was in admirable order. it lay entirely in the rear of the dwelling; and behind it, again, a small orchard, containing about a hundred trees, on which the fruit began to show itself in abundance, lay against the sort of amphitheatre that almost enclosed this little nook against the intrusion and sight of the rest of the world. there were also half a dozen huge cherry trees, from which the fruit had not yet altogether disappeared, near the house, to which they served the double purpose of ornament and shade. the out-houses seemed to be as old as the dwelling, and were in quite as good order. as we drew near the shore, i directed neb to cease sculling, and sat gazing at this picture of retirement, and, apparently, of content, while the boat drew towards the gravelly beach, under the impetus already received. "this is a hermitage i think i could stand, miles," said marble, whose look had not been off the spot since the moment we left the sloop's side. "this is what i should call a human hermitage, and none of your out and out solitudes room for pigs and poultry; a nice gravelly beach for your boat; good fishing in the offing, i'll answer for it; a snug shoulder-of-mutton sort of a house; trees as big as a two-decker's lower masts; and company within hail, should a fellow happen to take it into his head that he was getting melancholy. this is just the spot i would like to fetch-up in, when it became time to go into dock. what a place to smoke a segar in is that bench up yonder, under the cherry tree; and grog must have a double flavour alongside of that spring of fresh water!" "you could become the owner of this very place, moses, and then we should be neighbours, and might visit each other by water. it cannot be much more than fifty miles from this spot to clawbonny." "i dare say, now, that they would think of asking, for a place like this, as much money as would buy a good wholesome ship--a regular a. no. ." "no such thing; a thousand or twelve hundred dollars would purchase the house, and all the land we can see--some twelve or fifteen acres, at the most. you have more than two thousand salted away, i know, moses, between prize-money, wages, adventures, and other matters." "i could hold my head up under two thousand, of a sartainty. i wish the place was a little nearer clawbonny, say eight or ten miles off; and then i do think i should talk to the people about a trade." "it's quite unnecessary, after all. i have quite as snug a cove, near the creek bluff at clawbonny, and will build a house for you there, you shall not tell from a ship's cabin; that would be more to your fancy." "i've thought of that, too, miles, and at one time fancied it would be a prettyish sort of an idee; but it won't stand logarithms, at all. you may build a room that shall have its cabin _look_, but you can't build one that'll have a cabin _natur_' you may get carlins, and transoms, and lockers and bulkheads all right; but where are you to get your motion? what's a cabin without motion? it would soon be like the sea in the calm latitudes, offensive to the senses. no! none of your bloody motionless cabins for me. if i'm afloat, let me be afloat; if i'm ashore, let me be ashore." ashore we were by this time, the boat's keel grinding gently on the pebbles of the beach. we landed and walked towards the cottage, there being nothing about the place to forbid our taking this liberty. i told marble we would ask for a drink of milk, two cows being in sight, cropping the rich herbage of a beautiful little pasture. this expedient at first seemed unnecessary, no one appearing about the place to question our motives, or to oppose our progress. when we reached the door of the cottage, we found it open, and could look within without violating any of the laws of civilization. there was no vestibule, or entry; but the door communicated directly with a room of some size, and which occupied the whole front of the building. i dare say this single room was twenty feet square, besides being of a height a little greater than was then customary in buildings of that class. this apartment was neatness itself. it had a home-made, but really pretty, carpet on the floor; contained a dozen old-fashioned, high-back chairs, in some dark wood; two or three tables, in which one might see his face; a couple of mirrors of no great size, but of quaint gilded ornaments; a beaufet with some real china in it; and the other usual articles of a country residence that was somewhat above the ordinary farm-houses of the region, and yet as much below the more modest of the abodes of the higher class. i supposed the cottage to be the residence of some small family that had seen more of life than was customary with the mere husbandman, and yet not enough to raise it much above the level of the husbandman's homely habits. we were looking in from the porch, on this scene of rural peace and faultless neatness, when an inner door opened in the deliberate manner that betokens age, and the mistress of the cottage-appeared. she was a woman approaching seventy, of middle size, a quiet but firm step, and an air of health. her dress was of the fashion of the previous century, plain, but as neat as everything around her--a spotless white apron seeming to bid defiance to the approach of anything that could soil its purity. the countenance of this old woman certainly did not betoken any of the refinement which is the result of education and good company; but it denoted benevolence, a kind nature, and feeling. we were saluted without surprise, and invited in, to be seated. "it isn't often that sloops anchor here," said the old woman-lady, it would be a stretch of politeness to call her--their favour_yte_ places being higher up, and lower down, the river." "and how do you account for that, mother?" asked marble, who seated himself and addressed the mistress of the cottage with a seaman's frankness. "to my fancy, this is the best anchorage i 've seen in many a day; one altogether to be coveted. one might be as much alone as he liked, in a spot like this, without absolutely turning your bloody hermit." the old woman gazed at marble like one who scarce know what to make of such an animal; and yet her look was mild and indulgent. "i account for the boatmen's preferring other places to this," she said, "by the circumstance that there is no tavern here; while there is one two miles above, and another two miles below us." "your remark that there is no tavern here, reminds me of the necessity of apologizing for coming so boldly to your door," i answered; "but we sailors mean no impertinence, though we are so often guilty of it in landing." "you are heartily welcome. i am glad to see them that understand how to treat an old woman kindly, and know how to pity and pardon them that do not. at my time of life we get to learn the value of fair words and good treatment, for it's only a short time it will be in our power to show either to our fellow-creatures." "your favourable disposition to your fellows comes from living all your days in a spot as sweet as this." "i would much rather think that it comes from god. he alone is the source of all that is good within us." "yet a spot like this must have its influence on a character. i dare say you have lived long in this very house, which, old us you profess to be, seems to be much older than yourself. it has probably been your abode ever since your marriage?" "and long before, sir. i was born in this house, as was my father before me. you are right in saying that i have dwelt in it ever since my marriage, for i dwelt in it long before." "this is not very encouraging for my friend here, who took such a fancy to your cottage, as we came ashore, as to wish to own it; but i scarce think he will venture to purchase, now he knows how dear it must be to you." "and has your friend no home--no place in which to put his family?" "neither home nor family, my good mother." answered marble for himself; "and so much the greater reason, you will think, why i ought to begin to think of getting both as soon as possible. i never had father or mother, to my knowledge; nor house, nor home of any sort, but a ship. i forgot; i was a hermit once, and set myself up in that trade, with a whole island to myself; but i soon gave up all to natur', and got out of that scrape as fast as i could. the business didn't suit me." the old woman looked at marble intently. i could see by her countenance that the off-hand, sincere, earnest manner of the mate had taken some unusual hold of her feelings. "hermit!" the good woman repeated with curiosity; "i have often heard and read of such people; but you are not at all like them i have fancied to be hermits." "another proof i undertook a business for which i was not fit. i suppose a man before he sets up for a hermit ought to know something of his ancestors, as one looks to the pedigree of a horse in order to find out whether he is fit for a racer. now, as i happen to know nothing of mine, it is no wonder i fell into a mistake. it's an awkward thing, old lady, for a man to be born without a name." the eye of our hostess was still bright and full of animation, and i never saw a keener look than she fastened on the mate, as he delivered himself in this, one of his usual fits of misanthropical feeling. "and were _you_ born without a name?" she asked, after gazing intently at the other. "sartain. everybody is born with only one name; but i happened to be born without any name at all." "this is so extr'or'nary, sir," added our old hostess, more interested than i could have supposed possible for a stranger to become in marble's rough bitterness, "that i should like to hear how such a thing could be." "i am quite ready to tell you all about it, mother; but, as one good turn deserves another, i shall ask you first to answer me a few questions about the ownership of this house, and cove, and orchard. when you have told your story, i am ready to tell mine." "i see how it is," said the old woman, in alarm. "you are sent here by mr. van tassel, to inquire about the money due on the mortgage, and to learn whether it is likely to be paid or not." "we are not sent here at all, my good old lady," i now thought it time to interpose, for the poor woman was very obviously much alarmed, and in a distress that even her aged and wrinkled countenance could not entirely conceal. "we are just what you see--people belonging to that sloop, who have come ashore to stretch their legs, and have never heard of any mr. van tassel, or any money, or any mortgage." "thank heaven for that!" exclaimed the old woman, seeming to relieve her mind, as well as body, by a heavy sigh. "'squire van tassel is a hard man; and a widow woman, with no relative at hand but a grand-darter that is just sixteen, is scarce able to meet him. my poor old husband always maintained that the money had been paid; but, now he is dead and gone, 'squire van tassel brings forth the bond and mortgage, and says, 'if you can prove that these are paid, i'm willing to give them up.'" "this is so strange an occurrence, my dear old lady," i observed, "that you have only to make us acquainted with the facts, to get another supporter in addition to your grand-daughter. it is true, i am a stranger, and have come here purely by accident; but providence sometimes appears to work in this mysterious manner, and i have a strong presentiment we may be of use to you. relate your difficulties, then; and you shall have the best legal advice in the state, should your case require it." the old woman seemed embarrassed; but, at the same time, she seemed touched. we were utter strangers to her, it is true; yet there is a language in sympathy which goes beyond that of the tongue, and which, coming _from_ the heart, goes _to_ the heart. i was quite sincere in my offers, and this sincerity appears to have produced its customary fruits. i was believed; and, after wiping away a tear or two that forced themselves into her eyes, our hostess answered me as frankly as i had offered my aid. "you do not look like 'squire van tassel's men, for they seem to me to think the place is theirs already. such craving, covetous creatur's i never before laid eyes on! i hope i may trust you?" "depend on us, mother," cried marble, giving the old woman a cordial squeeze of the hand. "my heart is in this business, for my mind was half made up, at first sight, to own this spot myself--by honest purchase, you'll understand me, and not by any of your land-shark tricks--and, such being the case, you can easily think i'm not inclined to let this mr. tassel have it," "it would be almost as sorrowful a thing to _sell_ this place," the good woman answered, her countenance confirming all she said in words, "as to have it torn from me by knaves. i have told you that even my father was born in this very house. i was his only child; and when god called him away, which he did about twelve years after my marriage, the little farm came to me, of course. mine it would have been at this moment, without let or hindrance of any sort, but for a fault committed in early youth. ah! my friends, it is hopeless to do evil, and expect to escape the consequences." "the evil _you_ have done, my good mother," returned marble, endeavouring to console the poor creature, down whose cheeks the tears now fairly began to run; "the evil you have done, my good mother, can be no great matter. if it was a question about a rough tar like myself, or even of miles there, who's a sort of sea-saint, something might be made of it, i make no doubt; but your account must be pretty much all credit, and no debtor." "that is a state that befalls none of earth, my young friend,"--marble _was_ young, compared to his companion, though a plump fifty,--"my sin was no less than to break one of god's commandments." i could see that my mate was a good deal confounded at this ingenuous admission; for, in his eyes, breaking the commandments was either killing, stealing, or blaspheming. the other sins of the decalogue he had come by habit to regard as peccadilloes. "i think this must be a mistake, mother," he said, in a sort of consoling tone. "you may have fallen into some oversights, or mistakes; but this breaking of the commandments is rather serious sort of work." "yet i broke the fifth; i forgot to honour my father and mother. nevertheless, the lord has been gracious; for my days have already reached threescore-and-ten. but this is his goodness--not any merit of my own!" "is it not a proof that the error has been forgiven?" i ventured to remark. "if penitence can purchase peace, i feel certain you have earned that relief." "one never knows! i think this calamity of the mortgage, and the danger i run of dying without a roof to cover my head, may be all traced up to that one act of disobedience, i have been a mother myself--may say i am a mother now, for my grand-daughter is as dear to me as was her blessed mother--and it is when we look _down_, rather than when we look _up_, as it might be, that we get to understand the true virtue of this commandment." "if it were impertinent curiosity that instigates the question, my old friend," i added, "it would not be in my power to look you in the face, as i do now, while begging you to let me know your difficulties. tell them in your own manner, but tell them with confidence; for, i repeat, we have the power to assist you, and can command the best legal advice of the country." again the old woman looked at me intently through her spectacles; then, as if her mind was made up to confide in our honesty, she disburthened it of its secrets. "it would be wrong to tell you a part of my story, without telling you all," she began; "for you might think van tassel and his set are alone to blame, while my conscience tells me that little has happened that is not a just punishment for my great sin. you'll have patience, therefore, with an old woman, and hear her whole tale; for mine is not a time of life to mislead any. the days of white-heads are numbered; and, was it not for kitty, the blow would not be quite so hard on me. you must know, we are dutch by origin--come of the ancient hollanders of the colony--and were van duzers by name. it's like, friends," added the good woman, hesitating, "that you are yankees by birth?" "i cannot say i am," i answered, "though of english extraction. my family is long of new york, but it does not mount back quite as far as the time of the hollanders." "and your friend? he is silent; perhaps he is of new england? i would not wish to hurt his feelings, for my story will bear a little hard, perhaps, on his love of home." "never mind me, mother, but rowse it all up like entered cargo," said marble, in his usual bitter way when alluding to his own birth. "there's not the man breathing that one can speak more freely before on such matters, than moses marble." "marble!--that's a _hard_ name," returned the woman slightly smiling; "but a _name_ is not a _heart_. my parents were dutch; and you may have heard how it was before the revolution, between the dutch and the yankees. near neighbours, they did not love each other. the yankees said the dutch were fools, and the dutch said the yankees were knaves. now, as you may easily suppose, i was born before the revolution, when king george ii. was on the throne and ruled the country; and though it was long after the english got to be our masters, it was before our people had forgotten their language and their traditions. my father himself was born after the english governors came among us, as i've heard him say; but it mattered not--he loved holland to the last, and the customs of his fathers." "all quite right, mother," said marble, a little impatiently; "but what of all that? it's as nat'ral for a dutchman to love holland, as it is for an englishman to love hollands. i've been in the low countries, and must say it's a muskrat sort of a life the people lead; neither afloat nor ashore." the old woman regarded marble with more respect after this declaration; for in that day, a travelled man was highly esteemed among us. in her eyes, it was a greater exploit to have seen amsterdam, than it would now be to visit jerusalem. indeed, it is getting rather discreditable to a man of the world not to have seen the pyramids, the red sea, and the jordan. "my father loved it not the less, though he never saw the land of his ancestors," resumed the old woman. "notwithstanding the jealousy of the yankees, among us dutch, and the mutual dislike, many of the former came among us to seek their fortunes. they are not a home-staying people, it would seem; and i cannot deny that cases have happened in which they have been known to get away the farms of some of the netherlands stock, in a way that it would have been better not to have happened." "you speak considerately, my dear woman," i remarked, "and like one that has charity for all human failing." "i ought to do so for my own sins, and i ought to do so to them of new england; for my own husband was of that race." "ay, now the story is coming round regularly, miles," said marble, nodding his head in approbation. "it will touch on love next, and, if trouble do not follow, set me down as an ill-nat'red old bachelor. love in a man's heart is like getting heated cotton, or shifting ballast, into a ship's hold." "i must confess to it," continued our hostess, smiling in spite of her real sorrows--sorrows that were revived by thus recalling the events of her early life--"a young man of yankee birth came among us as a schoolmaster, when i was only fifteen. our people were anxious enough to have us all taught to read english, for many had found the disadvantage of being ignorant of the language of their rulers, and of the laws. i was sent to george wetmore's school, like most of the other young people of the neighbourhood, and remained his scholar for three years. if you were on the hill above the orchard yonder, you might see the school-house at this moment; for it is only a short walk from our place, and a walk that i made four times a day for just three years." "one can see how the land lies now," cried marble, lighting a segar, for he thought no apology necessary for smoking under a dutch roof. "the master taught his scholar something more than he found in the spelling-book, or the catechism. we'll take your word about the school-house, seeing it is out of view." "it was out of sight, truly, and that may have been the reason my parents took it so hard when george wetmore asked their leave to marry me. this was not done until he had walked home with me, or as near home as the brow on yon hill, for a whole twelvemonth, and had served a servitude almost as long, and as patient, as that of jacob for rachel." "well, mother, how did the old people receive the question? like good-natured parents, i hope, for george's sake." "rather say like the children of holland, judging of the children of new england. they would not hear of it, but wished me to marry my own cousin, petrus storm, who was not greatly beloved even in his own family." "of course you down anchor, and said you never would quit the moorings of home?" "if i rightly understand you, sir, i did something very different. i got privately married to george, and he kept school near a twelvemonth longer, up behind the hill, though most of the young women were taken away from his teaching." "ay, the old way; the door was locked after the horse was stolen! well, you were married, mother----" "after a time, it was necessary for me to visit a kinswoman who lived a little down the river. there my first child was born, unknown to my parents; and george gave it in charge to a poor woman who had lost her own babe, for we were still afraid to let our secret be known to my parents. now commenced the punishment for breaking the fifth commandment." "how's that, miles?" demanded moses. "is it ag'in the commandments for a married woman to have a son?" "certainly not, my friend; though it is a breach of the commandments not to honour our parents. this good woman alludes to her marrying contrary to the wishes of her father and mother." "indeed i do, sir, and dearly have i been punished for it. in a few weeks i returned home, and was followed by the sad news of the death of my first-born. the grief of these tidings drew the secret from me; and nature spoke so loud in the hearts of my poor parents, that they forgave all, took george home, and ever afterwards treated him as if he also had been their own child. but it was too late; had it happened a few weeks earlier, my own precious babe might have been saved to me." "you cannot know that, mother; we all die when our time comes." "his time had not come. the miserable wretch to whom george trusted the boy, exposed him among strangers, to save herself trouble, and to obtain twenty dollars at as cheap a rate as possible----" "hold!" i interrupted. "in the name of heaven, my good woman, in what year did this occur?" marble looked at me in astonishment, though he clearly had glimpses of the object of my question. "it was in the month of june, --. for thirty long, long years, i supposed my child had actually died; and then the mere force of conscience told me the truth. the wretched woman could not carry the secret with her into the grave, and she sent for me to hear the sad revelation." "which was to say that she left the child in a basket, on a tombstone, in a marble-worker's yard, in town; in the yard of a man whose name was durfee?" i said, as rapidly as i could speak. "she did, indeed! though it is a marvel to me that a stranger should know this. what will be god's pleasure next?" marble groaned. he hid his face in his hands, while the poor woman looked from one of us to the other, in bewildered expectation of what was to follow. i could not leave her long in doubt; but, preparing her for what was to follow, by little and little i gave her to understand that the man she saw before her was her son. after half a century of separation, the mother and child had thus been thrown together by the agency of an inscrutable providence! the reader will readily anticipate the character of the explanations that succeeded. of the truth of the circumstances there could not be a shadow of doubt, when everything was related and compared. mrs. wetmore had ascertained from her unfaithful nurse the history of her child as far as the alms-house; but thirty years had left a gap in the information she received, and it was impossible for her to obtain the name under which he had left that institution. the revolution was just over when she made her application, and it was thought that some of the books had been taken away by a refugee. still, there were a plenty of persons to supply traditions and conjecture; and so anxious were she and her husband to trace these groundless reports to their confirmation or refutation, that much money and time were thrown away in the fruitless attempts. at length, one of the old attendants of the children's department was discovered, who professed to know the whole history of the child brought from the stone-cutter's yard. this woman doubtless was honest, but her memory had deceived her. she said that the boy had been called stone, instead of marble; a mistake that was natural enough in itself, but which was probably owing to the fact that another child of the first name had really left the institution a few months before moses took his leave. this aaron stone had been traced, first, as an apprentice to a tradesman; thence into a regiment of foot in the british army, which regiment had accompanied the rest of the forces, at the evacuation, november th, . the wetmores fancied they were now on the track of their child. he was traced down to a period within a twelvemonth of that of the search, and was probably to be found in england, still wearing the livery of the king. after a long consultation between the disconsolate parents, it was determined that george wetmore should sail for england in the hope of recovering their son. but, by this time, money was scarce. these worthy people were enabled to live in comfort on their little farm, but they were not rich in cash. all the loose coin was gone in the previous search, and even a small debt had been contracted to enable them to proceed as far as they had. no alternative remained but to mortgage their home. this was done with great reluctance; but what will not a parent do for his child? a country lawyer, of the name of van tassel, was ready enough to advance five hundred on a place that was worth quite three thousand dollars. this man was one of the odious class of country usurers, a set of cormorants that is so much worse than their town counterparts, because their victims are usually objects of real, and not speculative distress, and as ignorant and unpractised as they are necessitous. it is wonderful with what far-sighted patience one of these wretches will bide his time, in order to effect a favourite acquisition. mrs. wetmore's little farm was very desirable to this 'squire van tassel, for reasons in addition to its intrinsic value; and for years nothing could be kinder and more neighbourly than his indulgence. interest was allowed to accumulate, until the whole debt amounted to the sum of a thousand dollars. in the mean time the father went to england, found the soldier after much trouble and expense, ascertained that stone knew his parents, one of whom had died in the alms-house, and spent all his money. years of debt and anxiety succeeded, until the father sunk under his misfortunes. an only daughter also died, leaving kitty a legacy to her widowed mother, the other parent having died even before her birth. thus was katharine van duzer, our old hostess, left to struggle on nearly alone, at the decline of life, with a poverty that was daily increasing, years, and this infant grand-daughter. just before his death, however, george wetmore had succeeded in selling a portion of his farm, that which was least valuable to himself, and with the money he paid off van tassel's mortgage. this was his own account of the matter, and he showed to his wife van tassel's receipt, the money having been paid at the county town, where the bond and mortgage could not be then produced. this was shortly before wetmore's last illness. a twelvemonth after his death, the widow was advised to demand the bond, and to take the mortgage off record. but the receipt was not to be found. with a woman's ignorance of such matters, the widow let this fact leak out; and her subsequent demand for the release was met with a counter one for evidence of payment. this was the commencement of van tassel's hostile attitude; and things had gone as far as a foreclosure, and an advertisement for a sale, when the good woman thus opportunely discovered her son! chapter iii. i charge you by the law, whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, proceed to judgment: by my soul i swear there is no power in the tongue of man to alter me: i stay here on my bond. shylock. it is not easy to describe the immediate effect of this discovery on either of the parties most concerned. not a doubt remained on the mind of either, after the facts were explained, of the reality of the relationship; for that was so simply proved, as to place the circumstance beyond all dispute. mrs. wetmore thought of her lost son as of an innocent smiling babe; and here she found him a red-faced, hard-featured, weather-beaten tar, already verging towards age, and a man of manners that were rough, if not rude. she could not at first possess any knowledge of the better points in his character, and was compelled to receive this boon from providence as it was offered. nevertheless, a mother's love is not easily dissatisfied, or smothered; and, ere i left the house, i could see the old woman's eyes fixed on marble with an expression of interest and tenderness they had not manifested previously to the revelations. as for the mate himself, now that the fondest wish of his life was so unexpectedly gratified, he was taken so much by surprise that he appeared to think something was wanting. he found his mother the reputable widow of a reputable man, of a class in life quite equal to his own, living on a property that was small, certainly, and involved, but property that had been long in her family. the truth was, marble felt so much at this unlooked-for appeal to his gentler feelings, that one of his stern nature did not know how to answer it on the emergency; and the obstinacy of his temperament rather induced him to resist, than to yield to such unwonted sentiments, i could see he was satisfied with his mother, while he was scarcely satisfied with himself; and, with a view to place both parties in truer positions, i desired moses to walk down and look at the boat, while i remained alone with his new-found parent. this was not done, however, until all the explanations had been made, and the mother had both blessed and wept over her child. it was done, indeed, principally to relieve marble from the oppression of feeling created by this very scene. as soon as alone with mrs. wetmore, i explained to her my own connection with marble, and gave her a sort of apologetic account of his life and character, keeping down the weak points, and dwelling on the strong. i set her mind at ease, at once, on the subject of the farm; for, should the worst happen, her son had double the amount of money that would be necessary to discharge the mortgage. "the debt was incurred, my dear mrs. wetmore, in his behalf; and he will be happy to discharge it on the spot. i would advise you to pay the money at once. should the receipt ever be found, this van tassel will be obliged to refund; for, though the law winks at many wrongs, it will not wink at one so atrocious as this, provided you can satisfy it with proof. i shall leave moses----" "his name is oloff, or oliver," interrupted the old woman easerly "i named him after my own father, and had him duly christened, before he was entrusted to the nurse, in the hope it might soften his grandfather's heart, when he came to know of my marriage. oloff van duzer wetmore is his real name." i smiled to think of marble's sailing under such an appellation, and was about to suggest a compromise, when the subject of our discourse returned. the mate had regained his composure during the half-hour he had been absent; and i saw by the kind glance he threw on his mother, whose look answered his own more naturally than i could have hoped, that things were getting right; and, by way of removing the awkwardness of excessive sensibility, i pursued the discourse. "we were talking of your true name, moses, as you came in," i said. "it will never do for you to hail by one name, while your mother hails by another. you'll have to cut adrift from moses marble altogether." "if i do, may i be----" "hush, hush--you forget where you are, and in whose presence you stand." "i hope my son will soon learn that he is always in the presence of his god," observed the mother, plaintively. "ay, ay--that's all right, mother, and you shall do with me just what you please in any of them matters; but as for not being moses marble, you might as well ask me not to be myself. i should be another man, to change my name. a fellow might as well go without clothes, as go without a name; and mine came so hard, i don't like to part with it. no, no--had it come to pass, now, that my parents had been a king and a queen, and that i was to succeed 'em on the throne, i should reign as king moses marble, or not reign at all." "you'll think better of this, and take out a new register under your lawful designation." "i'll tell you what i'll do, mother, and that will satisfy all parties. i'll bend on the old name to the new one, and sail under both." "i care not how you are called, my son, so long as no one has need to blush for the name you bear. this gentleman tells me you are an honest and true-hearted man; and those are blessings for which i shall never cease to thank god." "miles has been singing my praises, has he! i can tell you, mother, you had need look out for miles's tongue natur' intended him for a lawyer, and it's mere accident his being a sailor, though a capital one he is. but what may be my name, according to law?" "oloff van duser wetmore moses marble, according to your own expedient of sailing under all your titles. you can ring the changes, however, and call yourself moses oloff marble van duser wetmore, if you like that better." moses laughed, and as i saw that both he and his new-found mother were in a fit state to be left together, and that the sun now wanted but an hour or two of setting, i rose to take my leave. "you will remain with your mother to-night, marble," i observed. "i will keep the sloop at an anchor until i can see you in the morning, when we will settle the future a little more deliberately." "i should not like to lose my son so soon after finding him," the old woman anxiously remarked. "no fear of me, mother--i berth under your roof to-night, and so many more in the bargain, that you'll be glad enough to be rid of me in the end." i then left the house, followed by marble, towards the boat. as we reached the little piece of bottom-land, i heard a sort of suppressed sob from the mate, and, turning round, was surprised to see the tears running down his sun-burned cheeks. his wrought-up feelings had at last obtained the mastery; and this rude, but honest creature, had fairly given in, under the excitement of this strange admixture of joy, wonder, shame, and natural emotion. i took his hand, gave it a hearty squeeze, but said nothing; though i stopped, unwilling to go nearer to neb until my companion had regained his composure. this he did, sufficiently to speak, in the course of a minute or two. "it's all like a dream-to me, miles," moses at length muttered--"more out of natur' like, than setting up for a hermit." "you'll soon get accustomed to the change, marble; then everything will seem in the ordinary way, and natural." "to think of my being a son, and having a real, living mother!" "you must have known that you had parents once, though you are fortunate in finding one of them alive at your time of life." "and she an honest woman! a mother the president of the united states, or the first commodore in the navy, needn't be ashamed of!" "all that is fortunate, certainly; especially the first." "she's a bloody good-looking old woman in the bargain. i'll have her dressed up and carry her down to town, the first opportunity." "what would you give an old woman that trouble for? you'll think better of these matters, in the long run." "better! yes, i'll take her to philadelphia, and perhaps to baltimore. there's the gardens, and the theatres, and the museums, and lots of things that i dare say the dear old soul never laid eyes on." "i'm mistaken in your mother, if she would not prefer a church to all of them put together." "well, there's churches in all of them towns. put it on a religious footing, if you will, and i ought to take my mother as soon as possible down to york. she's old, you see, and cannot live for ever, just to oblige me; and here has she been tied down to one church all her days, giving her no ch'ice nor opportunity. i dare say, now, variety is just as agreeable in religion, as in anything else." "you are nearer right there, moses, than you think yourself, possibly. but we can talk of all these things to-morrow. a good night's rest will give us cooler heads in the morning." "i shall not sleep a wink for thinking of it. no, no--i'll make the old lady pack up before breakfast, and we'll sail in the sloop. i'll take her aboard the dawn with me in town, and a comfortable time we'll have of it in her cabins. she has as good state-rooms as a yacht." there were no liners in those days; but a ship with two cabins was a miracle of convenience. "your mother will hardly suit a ship, moses; and a ship will hardly suit your mother." "how can any of us know that till we try? if i'm a chip of the old block, they'll take to each other like rum and water. if i'm to go out in the ship, i'm far from certain i'll not take the old woman to sea with me." "you'll probably remain at home, now that you _have_ a home, and a mother, and other duties to attend to. i and my concerns will be but secondary objects with you hereafter, mr. wetmore." "wetmore be d----d! d'ye mean, miles, that i'm to give up my calling, give up the sea, give up _you_?" "you wished to be a hermit once, and found it a little too solitary; had you a companion or two, you would have been satisfied, you said. well, here is everything you can wish; a mother, a niece, a house, a farm, barns, out-houses, garden and orchard; and, seated on that porch, you can smoke segars, take your grog, look at the craft going up and down the hudson----" "nothing but so many bloody sloops," growled the mate. "such in-and-in fore-and-afters that their booms won't stay guyed-out, even after you've been at the pains to use a hawser." "well, a sloop is a pleasant object to a sailor, when he can set nothing better. then there is this mr. van tassel to settle with--you may have a ten years' law-suit on your hands, to amuse you." "i'll make short work with that scamp, when i fall in with him. you're right enough, miles; that affair must be settled before i can lift an anchor. my mother tells me he lives hard by, and can be seen, at any moment, in a quarter of an hour. i'll pay him a visit this very night." this declaration caused me to pause. i knew marble too well, not to foresee trouble if he were left to himself in a matter of this nature, and thought it might be well to inquire further into the affair. sailors do everything off-hand. mrs. wetmore telling me that her son's statement was true, on my going back to the house to question her in the matter, and offering us the use of an old-fashioned one-horse chaise, that the only farm-labourer she employed was just then getting ready to go in, in quest of kitty, i availed myself of the opportunity, took the printed advertisement of the sale to read as we went along, obtained our directions, and off marble and i went in quest of the usurer. there would be sufficient time for all our purposes. it is true that the horse, like the house, its owner, the labourer, the chaise, and all we had yet seen about willow cove, as we had learned the place was called, was old; but he was the more safe and sure. the road led up the ascent by a ravine, through which it wound its way very prettily; the labourer walking by our side to point out the route, after we should reach the elevation of the country that stretched inland. the view from the height, as it might be termed in reference to the river, though it was merely on the level of the whole region in that portion of the state, was both extensive and pretty. willow grove, as marble called his mother's place three or four times, while our horse was working his way up the ascent, looked more invitingly than ever, with its verdant declivities, rich orchards, neat cottage, all ensconced behind the sheltering cover of the river heights. inland, we saw a hundred farms, groves without number, divers roads, a hamlet within a mile of us, an old-fashioned extinguisher-looking church-spire, and various houses of wood painted white, with here and there a piece of rustic antiquity in bricks, or stone, washed with lime; or some livelier paint; for the dutch of new york had brought the habits of holland with them, delighting in colours. this relief may be desirable in a part of the world where the eternal green of the meadows in a manner fatigues the eye; but certainly the grey of nature has no just competitor in the tints of the more artificial portions of the ordinary landscape. white may make a scene look gay; but it can never lend it dignity, or the solemn hues that so often render the loveliness of a view impressive, as well as sweet. when this glaring colour reaches the fences, it gives the prettiest landscape the air of a bleaching-yard, or of a great laundry, with the clothes hung out to dry! the guide pointed out to us the house of van tassel, and another at which we should find kitty, who was to be brought home by us on our return. understanding the course and distance, we put to sea without any misgivings. the horse was no flyer, and marble and i had plenty of leisure to arrange preliminaries before reaching the door to which we were bound. after some consultation, and a good of discussion, i succeeded in persuading my companion it would not be wisest to break ground by flogging the attorney--a procedure to which he was strongly inclined. it was settled, however, he was at once to declare himself to be mrs. wetmore's son, and to demand his explanations in that character; one that would clearly give him every claim to be heard. "i know what these usurers, as you call 'em, miles, must be," said the mate. "they are a sort of in-shore pawn-brokers; and the lord have mercy on them, for i'll have none. i've had occasion to pawn a watch, or a quadrant, in my time; and bloody poor prices does a fellow get for his goods and chattels. yes, yes; i'll let the old gentleman know, at once, i'm van duzer oloff marble wetmore moses, or whatever's my name; and will stand up for the right in a fashion that will surprise him: but what are you to do in the mean time?" it struck me, if i could get marble to attempt practising a sort of _ruse_, it would have the effect to prevent his resorting to club-law, towards which i knew he had a strong natural disposition, and of which i was still a little afraid. with this object, then, i conceived the following scheme. "you shall simply introduce me as mr. miles wallingford," i said, "but in a formal manner, that may induce this mr. van tassel to-imagine i'm a sort of lawyer; and this may have the effect to awe him, and bring him to terms the easier. do not _say_ i am a lawyer, for that will not be true, and it will also be awkward falling back when the truth comes to be known." marble took the idea, and seemed pleased with it, though he affirmed that there could be no such thing as acting lawyer without lying a little, and that "the truth was too good for one of your bloody usurers." i got him trained, however, by the time we reached the door; and we alighted as well prepared for our task as could be expected. there was nothing about the residence of 'squire van tassel to denote the grasping money-dealer, unless a certain negligence of the exterior might be supposed to betray the abode of such a man. his friends wished to ascribe this to an indifference to appearances; but the multitude, more accurately imputed it to parsimony. when the very soul gets to be absorbed in the process of rolling gold over and over, in order to make it accumulate, the spirit grudges the withdrawal of the smallest fraction from the gainful pursuit; and here lies the secret of the disdain of appearances that is so generally to be met with in this description of persons. beyond this air of negligence, however, the dwelling of van tassel was not to be distinguished from those of most of the better houses of that part of the country. our application for admission was favourably received, and, in a minute, we were shown into the attorney's office. 'squire van tassel, as this man was universally termed, eyed us keenly as we entered, no doubt with a view to ascertain if we were borrowers. i might possibly have passed for one of that character, for i aimed at looking serious and thoughtful; but i would defy any man to mistake moses for one who came on such an errand. he looked more like a messenger sent by the father of sin, to demand the payment of a certain bond that had been signed in blood, and of which the fatal pay-day had at length arrived. i had to give the skirt of his coat a pull, in order to recall him to our agreement, else i do think the first salutation received by the attorney, would have been a broadside in anything but words. the hint succeeded, and marble permitted our host to open the communications. squire van tassel had a very miserly exterior. he even looked ill fed; though doubtless this appearance was more a consequence of habit of body, than of short-feeding. he wore spectacles with black rims, and had the common practice of looking over them at objects at a distance, which gave him an air still more watchful than that which he imbibed from character. his stature was small, and his years about sixty, an age when the accumulation of money begins to bring as much pain as pleasure; for it is a period of life when men cannot fail to see the termination of their earthly schemes. of all the passions, however, avarice is notoriously that which the latest loosens its hold on the human heart. "your servant, gentlemen," commenced the attorney, in a manner that was civil enough; "your servant; i beg you to help yourselves to chairs." we all three took seats, at this invitation. "a pleasant evening," eyeing us still more keenly over his glasses, "and weather that is good for the crops. if the wars continue much longer in europe," another look over the glasses, "we shall sell all the substance out of our lands, in order to send the belligerents wheat. i begin to look on real estate security as considerably less valuable than it was, when hostilities commenced in , and as daily growing less and less so." "ay, you may say that," marble bluntly answered; "particularly the farms of widows and orphans." the "'squire" was a little startled at this unexpected reply. he looked intently at each of us again, over the spectacles; and then asked, in a manner divided between courtesy and authority-- "may i inquire your names, and the object of this visit?" "sartain," said marble. "that's reasonable and your right. we are not ashamed of our names, nor of our errand. as for the last, mr. van tassell, you'll know it sooner than you will wish to know it; but, to begin at the right end, this gentleman with me, is mr. miles wallingford, a partic'lar friend of old mrs. wetmore, who lives a bit down the road yonder, at a farm called willow grove; 'squire wallingford, sir, is _her_ friend, and _my_ friend, and i've great pleasure in making you acquainted with him." "i am happy to see the gentleman," answered van tassel, taking another look, while at the same time he glanced his eye at an alphabetical list of the attorneys and counsellors, to see what place i occupied among them. "very happy to see the gentleman, who has quite lately commenced practice, i should think by his age, and my not remembering the name." "there must be a beginning to all things, mr. van tassel," i replied, with a calmness that i could see the old usurer did not like. "very true, sir, and i hope your future success will be in proportion to the lateness of your appearance at the bar. your companion has much more the air of a sailor than of a lawyer."--this was true enough, there being no mistaking marble's character, though i had put on a body-coat to come ashore in;--"i presume _he_ is not in the practice." "that remains to be seen, sir." answered marble. "having told you my friend's name, mr. van tassel, i will now tell you my own. i am called moses marble wetmore van duser oloff, sir, or some such bloody thing; and you're welcome to take your pick out of the whole list. i'll answer to either of them aliases." "this is so extraordinary and unusual, gentlemen, i scarce know what to make of it. has this visit any connection with mrs. wetmore, or her farm, or the mortgage i have been foreclosing on the last?" "it has, sir; and i am that mrs. wetmore's son--yes sir, the only child of that dear, good, old soul." "the son of mrs. wetmore!" exclaimed van tassel, both surprised and uneasy. "i knew there _was_ a son; but i have been always told it was impossible to find him. i see no resemblance, sir, in you to either george wetmore, or kitty van duser." now this was not altogether true. as for george wetmore, they who had known him in middle age, afterwards declared that moses did resemble him greatly; while i, myself, could trace in the mouth and milder expression of the mate's features, a strong likeness to the subdued character of his aged mother's face. this resemblance would not have been observed, in all probability, without a knowledge of the affinity that existed between the parties; but, with that knowledge, it was not easy to overlook. "resemblance!" repeated marble, much in the tone of one who is ready to quarrel on the slightest provocation; "how should there be any resemblance, after the life i've led. in the first place, i was carried out of my mother's sight in less than ten days after i was born. then i was placed on a tombstone, by way of encouragement; after which, they sent me to live among paupers. i ran away at ten years old, and went to sea, where i've played the part of man-of-war's-man, privateer's-man, smuggler, mate, master, and all hands; everything, in short, but a pirate and mutineer. i've been a bloody hermit, mr. van tassel, and if that won't take the resemblance to anything human out of a fellow, his face is as unchangeable as that on a gold coin." "all this, mr. wallingford, is so unintelligible to me, that i shall have to ask you to explain it." i can only add to it, sir, my belief that every word you hear is true. i am satisfied that this is, in a legal sense, oloff van duser wetmore, the only surviving child of george wetmore and catharine van duser. he has come to see you in relation to a claim you are said to hold against the farm his mother inherited from her parents." "_said_ to hold!--i certainly do hold george wetmore's bond, secured by a mortgage signed by his wife, balance due, including interest and costs, $ . ; and i am proceeding to sell, under the statute. one sale has been postponed, to oblige the widow; for a merciful man would not wish to press a single and aged woman, though i've lain out of my money a very long time. you are aware, sir, that i lose all my interest on interest, and must take up with just what the law will give; hardship enough in active times like these, when not a day passes that something good does not offer in the way of purchasing the best of securities, at liberal discounts. trade is so lively, now, mr. wallingford, that men will almost sell their souls for money." "i rather think, sir, that some men will do this at all times; nay, do it hourly, daily. but, i am instructed"--i could not help acting the counsel a little, on the occasion--"i am instructed that the bond of george wetmore is paid in full." "how can that be, sir, while i still hold bond and mortgage? as a business man, you must understand the value to be attached to the idle tales of women, and can see the danger of taking _their_ gossip for authority. george wetmore had some knowledge of business, and would not be likely to pay his bond without taking it up, or at least of obtaining a receipt; much less leave the mortgage on record." "i am informed he did take your receipt, though he presumes he must have lost it with a missing pocket-book, which his widow supposes to have been dropped from his coat, the very day he returned from the court where he met you, and where he says he paid you the money, being anxious to stop interest as soon as possible." "a very idle story, and one you do not suppose the chancellor will believe, confirmed by the _hearsay_ of the party interested in preserving the property. you are aware, sir, that the sale can be stopped only by an injunction from the court of chancery." now, i was certainly no lawyer; but, like almost every american, i knew something of that branch of the jurisprudence of the country, which touched my own interests. as a land-holder, i had a little knowledge of the law of real estate, and was not absolutely ignorant of the manner in which matters were managed in that most searching of all tribunals, the court of chancery. a lucky thought suggested itself to my mind on the instant, and i made use of it on the spur of the moment. "it is quite true, sir," i answered, "that any prudent judge might hesitate about entering a decree on authority no better than the oath of mrs. wetmore that she had heard her husband say he had paid the money; but you will remember that the party replying has to swear to his answer. all of us might be better satisfied in this affair, were you to make oath that the money was never paid." this hit told; and from that moment i did not entertain a doubt that wetmore had paid the money, and that van tassel retained a perfect recollection of the whole affair. this much i could read in the man's altered countenance and averted eye, though my impressions certainly were not proof. if not proof, however, for a court of justice, they served to enlist me earnestly in the pursuit of the affair, into which i entered warmly from that moment. in the meantime, i waited for van tassel's answer, watching his countenance the whole time, with a vigilance that i could easily see caused him great embarrassment. "kitty wetmore and i were born neighbours' children," he said; "and this mortgage has given me more trouble than all the rest of my little possessions. that i have been in no hurry to foreclose is plain by the length of time i've suffered to go by, without claiming my dues. i could wait no longer, without endangering my rights, as there would be a presumption of payment after twenty years, and a presumption that would tell harder against me than old kitty's oath. we are neighbours' children, as i've said, nevertheless, and rather than push matters to extremities i will consent to some sort of a compromise." "and what sort of a compromise will be agreeable to your notions of justice, mr. van tassel?" "why, sir, as kitty is old, it would be a sad thing to drive her from the roof under which she was born. this i've said and thought from the first, and say, _now_. still, i cannot part with my property without a compensation; though i'm willing to wait. i told mrs. wetmore, before advertising, that if she would give a new bond, making all clear, and giving me interest on the whole sum now due, i should be willing to grant her time. i now propose, however, as the simplest way of settling the affair, to accept from her a release of the equity of redemption, and to grant her a lease, for her own life, on a nominal rent." even marble knew enough to see the rank injustice of such an offer. in addition to conceding the non-payment of the debt, it was securing to van tassel, at no distant day, the quiet possession of the farm, for somewhat less than one-third its value. i detected symptoms of an outbreak in the mate, and was obliged to repress it by a sign, while i kept the discussion in my own hands. "under such an arrangement, sir," i answered, "my friend here would be literally selling his birthright for a mess of porridge." "you will remember, mr. wallingford, that a mortgage sale, legally made, is a ticklish thing, and the courts do not like to disturb one. this sale will take place, this day week; and the title once passed, it will not be so easy a matter to get it repassed. mr. wetmore, here, does not look like a man ready to pay down a thousand dollars." "we shall not run the risk of letting the title pass. i will buy the property, myself, if necessary; and should it afterwards appear that the money has been actually paid, we believe you are sufficiently secure for principal, interest, and costs." "you are young in the profession, mr. wallingford, and will come to learn the folly of advancing money for your clients." "i am not in the profession at all, sir, as you have erroneously supposed, but am a ship-master; and mr. wetmore, or marble, as he has hitherto been called, is my mate. still, we are none the worse provided with the means of paying a thousand dollars--or twenty of them, should it be necessary." "no lawyer!" cried van tassel, smiling grimly. "a couple of sailors about to dispute the foreclosure of a mortgage! famous justice we should get at your hands, gentlemen! well, well; i now see how it is, and that this has only been an attempt to work on my sympathies for an old woman who has been living on my money these twenty years. i rather think your $ . , will prove to be of the same quality as your law." "and, yet, it struck me, mr. van tassel, that you rather disliked the idea of swearing to the truth of an answer to a certain bill in chancery, which, if i cannot draw, one abraham van vechten, of albany, can!" "abraham van vechten is skilful counsel, and an honest man, and is riot likely to be employed in a cause that rests only on an old woman's _hearsays_--and all to save her own farm!" marble could keep silence no longer. he told me afterwards, that, during the dialogue, he had been taking the measure of the old usurer's foot, and felt it would be a disgrace to strike so feeble a creature; but, to sit and hear his newly-found mother sneered at, and her just rights derided, was more than his patience could endure. rising abruptly, therefore, he broke out at once in one of the plainest philippics of the sea. i shall not repeat all he said; for, to render it justly, might be to render it offensive; but, in addition to calling old van tassel by a great many names that were as unusual as they were quaint, he called him by several that would be familiar to the ears of most of my readers, besides being perfectly well merited. i allowed his humour to find vent; and, giving the attorney to understand he should hear further from us, i succeeded in getting my companion to the wagon, without coming to blows. i could see that van tassel was very far from being at his ease, and that he would still gladly keep us, if he could, in the hope of bringing about some sort of a compromise, if possible; but i thought it wisest to let matters rest awhile, after the decided demonstration we had already made. it was not an easy matter to get marble into the vehicle; but this was no sooner effected, than i trotted him off, down the road, taking the direction of the house where we had been told to seek kitty huguenin, old mrs. wetmore's grand-daughter, who would be waiting the appearance of the chaise, in order to return home. "you must put on a more amicable look," said i to the mate, as we went on our way, "or you'll frighten your niece; with whom, you will remember, you are about to make an acquaintance." "the cheating vagabond, to take advantage of a poor, lonely, old woman, whose only husband was in the grave, and only son at sea!" the mate continued to mutter. "talk about the commandments! i should like to know what commandment this was breaking. the whole six, in a batch." "the tenth, i am inclined to think, my friend; and that is a commandment broken all day, and every day." the denunciations of the mate continued for some time longer, and then went off like the rumbling of distant thunder in the heavens after the passage of the gust. chapter iv. "no moorish maid might hope to vie with laila's cheek, or laila's eye; no maiden loved with purer truth, or ever loved a lovelier youth." southey. "miles," said moses, suddenly, after riding a short distance in silence, "i must quit the old lady, this very night, and go down with you to town. we must have that money up at the place of sale, in readiness for the vagabond; for, as to letting him have the smallest chance at willow grove, that is out of the question." "as you please, marble; but, now, get yourself in trim to meet another relation; the second you have laid eyes on in this world." "think of that, miles! think of my having _two_ relations! a mother and a niece! well, it is a true saying that it never rains but it pours." "you probably have many more, uncles, aunts, and cousins in scores. the dutch are famous for counting cousins; and no doubt you'll have calls on you from half the county." i saw that marble was perplexed, and did not know, at first, but he was getting to be embarrassed by this affluence of kindred. the mate, however, was not the man long to conceal his thoughts from me; and in the strength of his feelings he soon let his trouble be known. "i say, miles," he rejoined, "a fellow may be bothered with felicity, i find. now, here, in ten minutes perhaps, i shall have to meet my sister's darter--my own, born, blood niece; a full-grown, and i dare say, a comely young woman; and, hang me if i know exactly what a man ought to say in such a state of the facts. generalizing wont do with these near relations; and i suppose a sister's darter is pretty much the same to a chap as his own darter would be, provided he had one." "exactly; had you reasoned a month, you could not have hit upon a better solution of the difficulty than this. treat this kitty huguenin just as you would treat kitty marble." "ay, ay; all this is easy enough aforehand, and to such scholars as you; but it comes hard on a fellow like myself to heave his idees out of him, as it might be, with a windlass. i managed the old woman right well, and could get along with a dozen mothers, better than with one sister's darter. suppose she should turn out a girl with black eyes, and red cheeks, and all that sort of thing; i dare say she would expect me to kiss her?" "certainly; she will expect that, should her eyes even be white, and her cheeks black. natural affection expects this much even among the least enlightened of the human race." "i am disposed to do everything according to usage," returned marble, quite innocently, and more discomposed by the situation in which he so unexpectedly found himself, than he might have been willing to own; "while, at the same time, i do not wish to do anything that is not expected from a son and an uncle. if these relations had only come one at a time." "poh, poh, moses--do not be quarrelling with your good luck, just as it's at its height. here is the house, and i'll engage one of those four girls is your niece--that with the bonnet, for a dollar; she being ready to go home, and the whole having come to the door, in consequence of seeing the chaise driving down the road. they are puzzled at finding us in it, however, instead of the usual driver." marble hemmed, attempted to clear his throat, pulled down both sleeves of his jacket, settled his black handkerchief to his mind, slily got rid of his quid, and otherwise "cleared ship for action," as he would have been very apt to describe his own preparations. after all, his heart failed him, at the pinch; and just as i was pulling up the horse, he said to me, in a voice so small and delicate, that it sounded odd to one who had heard the man's thunder, as he hailed yards and tops in gales of wind-- "miles, my dear boy, i do not half like this business; suppose you get out, and open the matter to the ladies. there's four of them, you see, and that's three too many. go, now, miles, that's a good fellow, and i'll do the same for you another time. i can't have _four_ nieces here, you'll own yourself." "and while i am telling your story to your niece, your own sister's daughter, what will you be doing here, pray?" "doing?--why anything, my dear miles, that can be useful--i say, boy, do you think she looks anything like me? when you get nearer, if you should think so, just hold up a hand as a signal, that i may not be taken by surprise. yes, yes; you go first, and i'll follow; and as for 'doing,' why, you know, i can hold this bloody horse." i laughed, threw the reins to marble, who seized them with both hands, as if the beast required holding, while i alighted, and walked to the cluster of girls, who awaited my movements in surprise and silence. since that day; i have seen more of the world than might have been expected in one of my early career; and often have i had occasion to remark the tendency there exists to extremes in most things; in manners as well as in every other matter connected with human feelings. as we become sophisticated, acting takes the place of nature, and men and women often affect the greatest indifference in cases in which they feel the liveliest interest. this is the source of the ultra _sang froid_ of what is termed high breeding, which would have caused the four young women, who then stood in the door-yard of the respectable farm-house at which i had alighted, to assume an air as cold, and as marble-like, at the sudden appearance of mrs. wetmore's chaise, containing two strange faces, as if they had been long expecting our arrival, and were a little displeased it had not occurred an hour sooner. such, however, was not my reception. though the four girls were all youthful, blooming, pretty, delicate in appearance, according to the fashion of american women, and tolerably well attired, they had none of the calm exterior of conventional manner. one would speak quick to another; looks of surprise were often exchanged; there were not a few downright giggles, and then each put on as dignified an air to meet the stranger as, under the circumstances, she could assume. "i presume miss kitty huguenin is among you, young ladies," i commenced, bowing as civilly as was necessary; "for this appears to be the house to which we were directed." a girl of about sixteen, of decidedly pleasing appearance, and one who bore a sufficient resemblance to old mrs. wetmore to be recognised, advanced a step out of the group, a little eagerly, and then as suddenly checked herself, with the timidity of her years and sex, as if afraid of going too far. "i am kitty," she said, changing colour once or twice; now flushing and now growing pale--"is any thing the matter, sir--has grandmother sent for me?" "nothing is the matter, unless you can call _good news_ something the matter. we have just left your grandmother's on business, having been up to 'squire van tassel's on her affairs; rather than let us go on foot, she lent us her chaise, on condition that we should stop on our return and bring you home with us. the chaise is the evidence that we act under orders." in most countries, such a proposition would have excited distrust; in america, and in that day, more especially among girls of the class of kitty huguenin, it produced none. then, i flatter myself, i was not a very frightful object to a girl of that age, and that my countenance was not of such a cast as absolutely to alarm her. kitty, accordingly, wished her companions hasty adieus, and in a minute she was placed between marble and myself, the old vehicle being sufficiently spacious to accommodate three. i made my bows and away we trotted, or _ambled_ would be a better word. for a brief space there was silence in the chaise, though i could detect marble stealing side-long glances at his pretty little niece. his eyes were moist, and he hemmed violently once, and actually blew his nose, taking occasion, at the same time, to pass his handkerchief over his forehead, no less than three times in as many minutes. the furtive manner in which he indulged in these feelings, provoked me to say-- "you appear to have a bad cold this evening, mr. wetmore," for i thought the opportunity might also be improved, in the way of breaking ground with our secret. "ay, you know how it is in these matters, miles--somehow, i scarce know why myself, but somehow i feel bloody womanish this evening." i felt little kitty pressing closer to my side, as if she had certain misgivings touching her other neighbour. "i suppose you are surprised, miss kitty," i resumed, "at finding two strangers in your grandmother's chaise?" "i did not expect it--but--you said you had been to mr. van tassel's, and that there was good news for me--does 'squire van tassel allow that grandfather paid him the money?" "not that exactly, but you have friends who will see that no wrong shall be done you. i suppose you have been afraid your grandmother and yourself might be turned away from the old place?" "'squire van tassel's daughters have boasted as much,"--answered kitty, in a very subdued tone--a voice, indeed, that grew lower and more tremulous as she proceeded--"but i don't much mind _them_, for they think their father is to own the whole country one of these days." this was uttered with spirit. "but the old house was built by grandmother's grandfather, they say, and grandmother was born in it, and mother was born in it, and so was i. it is hard to leave a place like that, sir, and for a debt, too, that grandmother says she is sure has once been paid." "ay, bloody hard!" growled marble. kitty again pressed nearer to me, or, to speak more properly, farther from the mate, whose countenance was particularity grim just at that moment. "all that you say is very true, kitty," i replied; "but providence has sent you friends to take care that no wrong shall be done your grandmother, or yourself." "you're right enough in that, miles," put in the mate. "god bless the old lady; she shall never sleep out of the house, with my consent, unless it is when she sails down the river to go to the theatre, and the museum, the ten or fifteen dutch churches there are in town, and all them 'ere sort o' thingumerees." kitty gazed at her left-hand neighbour with surprise, but i could feel that maiden bashfulness induced her to press less closely to my side than she had done the minute before. "i don't understand you," kitty answered, after a short pause, during which she was doubtless endeavouring to comprehend what she had heard. "grandmother has no wish to go to town; she only wants to pass the rest of her days, quietly, at the old place, and one church is enough for anybody." had the little girl lived a few years later, she would have ascertained that some persons require half-a-dozen. "and you, kitty, do you suppose your grandmother has no thought for you, when she shall be called away herself? "oh! yes--i know she thinks a good deal of _that_, but i try to set her heart at ease, poor, dear, old grandmother, for it's of no use to be distressing herself about _me_! i can take care of myself well enough, and have plenty of friends who will never see me want. father's sisters say they'll take care of _me_." "you have one friend, kitty, of whom you little think, just now, and he will provide for you." "i don't know whom you mean, sir--unless--and yet you can't suppose i never think of god, sir?" "i mean a friend on earth--have you no friend on earth, whom you have not mentioned yet?" "i am not sure--perhaps--you do not mean horace bright, do you, sir?" this was said with a bright blush, and a look in which the dawning consciousness of maiden shame was so singuarly blended with almost childish innocence, as both to delight me, and yet cause me to smile. "and who is horace bright?" i asked, assuming as grave an air as possible. "oh! horace is nobody--only the son of one of our neighbours. there, don't you see the old stone house that stands among the apple and cherry trees, on the banks of the river, just here in a line with this barn?" "quite plainly; and a very pretty place it is. we were admiring it as we drove up the road." "well, that is horace bright's father's; and one of the best farms in the neighbourhood. but you mustn't mind what _he_ says, grandmother always tells me; boys love to talk grandly, and all the folks about here feel for us, though most of them are afraid of 'squire van tassel, too." "i place no reliance at all on horace's talk--not i. it is just as your grandmother tells you; boys are fond of making a parade, and often utter things they don't mean." "well, i don't think that is horace's way, in the least; though i wouldn't have you suppose i ever think, the least in the world, about what horace says concerning my never being left to want. my own aunts will take care of _that_." "and should they fail you, my dear," cried marble, with strong feeling, "your own _uncle_ would step into their places, without waiting to have his memory jogged." again kitty looked surprised, a very little startled, and again she pressed to my side. "i have no uncle," she answered, timidly. "father never had a brother, and grandmother's son is dead." "no, kitty," i said, giving a look at marble to keep him quiet; "in the last you are mistaken. this is the good news of which we spoke. your grandmother's son is not dead, but living, and in good health. he is found, acknowledged, has passed the afternoon with your grandmother, has money more than enough to satisfy even the unjust demand of the miserly van tassel, and will be a father to _you_." "oh! dear me--can this be true!" exclaimed kitty, pressing still closer than ever to my side. "and are _you_ uncle after all, and will it all come out as you say? poor, poor grandmother, and i not at home to hear it all, and to help her under such a great trial!" "your grandmother was a little distressed of course, at first, but she bore it all remarkably well, and is as happy at this moment, as you yourself could wish her to be. you are under a mistake, however, in supposing i am your uncle--do i look old enough to be your mother's brother? "dear me, no--i might have seen that, hadn't i been so silly--can it be this other gentleman?" here marble took his hint from nature, and clasping the pretty young creature in his arms, he kissed her with an affection and warmth that were truly paternal. poor kitty was frightened at first, and i dare say, like her grandmother in a slight degree disappointed; but there was so much heartiness in the mate's manner, that it reassured her in degree. "i'm a bloody poor uncle, i know, kitty, for a young woman like you to own," marble got out, though sorely tempted to blubber; "but there's worse in the world, as you'll discover, no doubt, in time. such as i am, you must take me, and, from this time henceforth, do not care a strap for old van tassel, or any other griping vagabond like him in york state." "uncle is a sailor!" kitty answered, after being fairly released from the mate's rough embrace. "grandmother heard once that he was a soldier." "ay, that comes of lying. i don't think they could have made a soldier of me, had two wicked nurses run away with me, and had they placed me on fifty tombstones, by way of commencing life. my natur' would revolt at carrying a musket, for sartain, while the seas have always been a sort of home to me." kitty made no answer to this, being a little in doubt, i believe, as to the manner in which she was to regard this new acquisition of an uncle. "your grand-parents did suppose your uncle a soldier," i remarked, "but, after the man was seen the mistake was discovered, and now the truth has come out in a way that will admit of no dispute." "how is uncle named?" demanded the niece, in a low voice, and a hesitating manner. "mother's brother was christened oloff, i have heard grandmother say." "very true, dear; we've been all over that, the old lady and i. they tell me, too, i was christened by the name of moses--i suppose you know who moses was, child?" "to be sure, uncle!" said kitty, with a little laugh of surprise. "he was the great law-maker of the jews." "ha, miles, is that so?" i nodded assent. "and do you know about his being found in the bulrushes, and the story of the king of ethiopia's daughter?" "the king of egypt, you mean, do you not, uncle oloff?" cried kitty, with another little laugh. "well, ethiopia or egypt; it's all pretty much the same--this girl has been wonderfully edicated, miles, and will turn out famous company for me, in the long winter evenings, some twenty years hence, or when i've worked my way up into the latitude of the dear, good, old soul under the hill yonder." a slight exclamation from kitty was followed by a blush, and a change of expression, that showed she was thinking, just at that moment, of anything but uncle oloff. i asked an explanation. "it's _only_ horace bright, out yonder in the orchard, looking at us. he will be puzzled to know who is with me, here, in the old chaise. horace thinks he can drive a horse better than any one about here, so you must be careful how you hold the reins, or use the whip.--horace!" this boded no good to marble's plans for passing the evenings of his old age with kitty to amuse him; but, as we were now on the brow of the hill, with the cottage in sight, horace bright was soon lost to view. to do the girl justice, she appeared now to think only of her grandmother, and of the effects the recent discovery of her son would be likely to produce on one of her years and infirmities. as for myself, i was surprised to see mr. hardinge in earnest conversation with old mrs. wetmore, both seated on the stoop of the cottage, in the mild summer's evening, and lucy walking, to and fro, on the short grass of the willow bottom, with an impatience and restlessness of manner it was very unusual for her to exhibit. no sooner was kitty alighted, than she ran to her grandmother, marble following, while i hastened to the point where was to be found the great object of my interest. lucy's face was full of feeling and concern, and she received me with an extended hand that, gracious as was the act itself, and most grateful as it would have proved to me under other circumstances, i now feared boded no good. "miles, you have been absent an age!" lucy commenced. "i should be disposed to reproach you, had not the extraordinary story of this good old woman explained it all. i feel the want of air and exercise; give me your arm, and we will walk a short distance up the road. my dear father will not be inclined to quit that happy family, so long as any light is left." i gave lucy my arm, and we did walk up the road together, actually ascending the hill i had just descended; but all this did not induce me to overlook the fact that lucy's manner was hurried and excited. the whole seemed so inexplicable, that i thought i would wait her own pleasure in the matter. "your friend, marble," she continued--"i do not know why i ought not to say _our_ friend, marble, must be a very happy man at having, at length, discovered who his parents are, and to have discovered them to be so respectable and worthy of his affection." "as yet, he seems to be more bewildered than happy, as, indeed, does the whole family. the thing has come on them so unexpectedly, that there has not been time to bring their feelings in harmony with the facts." "family affection is a blessed thing, miles," lucy resumed, after a short pause, speaking in her thoughtful manner; "there is little in this world that can compensate for its loss. it must have been sad, sad, to the poor fellow to have lived so long without father, mother, sister, brother or any other known relative." "i believe marble found it so; yet, i think, he felt the supposed disgrace of his birth more than his solitary condition. the man has warm affections at the bottom, though he has a most uncouth manner of making it known." "i am surprised one so circumstanced never thought of marrying; he might, at least, have lived in the bosom of his own family, though he never knew that of a father." "these are the suggestions of a tender and devoted female heart, dear lucy; but, what has a sailor to do with a wife? i have heard it said sir john jervis--the present lord st. vincent--always declared a married seaman, a seaman spoiled; and i believe marble loves a ship so well he would hardly know how to love a woman." lucy made no answer to this indiscreet and foolish speech. why it was made, i scarce knew myself; but the heart has its bitter moods, when it prompts sentiments and declarations that are very little in accordance with its real impulses. i was so much ashamed of what i had just said, and, in truth, so much frightened, that, instead of attempting to laugh it off, as a silly, unmeaning opinion, or endeavouring to explain that this was not my own way of thinking, i walked on some distance in silence, myself, and suffered my companion to imitate me in this particular. i have since had reason to think that lucy was not pleased at my manner of treating the subject, though, blessed creature! she had another matter to communicate, that lay too heavy on her heart, to allow one of her generous, disinterested nature to think much of anything else. "miles," lucy, at length, broke the silence, by saying--"i wish, i _do_ wish we had not met that other sloop this morning." i stopped short in the highway, dropped my beautiful companion's arm, and stood gazing intently in her face, as if i would read her most inmost thoughts through those windows of the soul, her serene, mild, tender, blue eyes. i saw that the face was colourless, and that the beautiful lips, out of which the words that had alarmed me more by their accents than their direct signification, were quivering in a way that their lovely mistress could not control. tears, as large as heavy drops of rain, too, were trembling on the long silken eye-lashes, while the very attitude of the precious girl denoted hopelessness and grief! "this relates to grace!" i exclaimed, though my throat was so parched, as almost to choke my utterance. "whom, or what else, can now occupy our minds, miles; i can scarce think of anything but grace; when i do, it is to remember that my own brother has killed her!" what answer could i have made to such a speech, had my mind been sufficiently at ease as respects my sister to think of anything else? as it was, i did not even attempt the vain office of saying anything in the way of alleviating my companion's keen sense of the misconduct of rupert. "grace is then worse in consequence of this unhappy rencontre?" i observed, rather than asked. "oh! miles; what a conversation i have had with her, this afternoon! she speaks, already, more like a being that belongs to the regions of the blessed, than like one of earth! there is no longer any secret between us. she would gladly have avoided telling me her precise situation with rupert, but we had already gone so far, i would know more. i thought it might relieve her mind; and there was the chance, however slight, of its enabling us to suggest some expedient to produce still further good. i think it has had some of the first effect, for she is now sleeping." "did grace say anything of your communicating the miserable tale to me?" "it is, indeed, a miserable tale! miles, they were engaged from the time grace was fifteen! engaged distinctly, and in terms, i mean; not by any of the implied understandings, by which those who were so intimate, generally, might believe themselves bound to each other." "and in what manner did so early and long-continued an engagement cease?" "it came from rupert, who should have died first, before he was so untrue to himself, to my poor father, to me, to all of us, miles, as well as to his own manhood. it has been as we supposed; he has been deluded by the éclât that attaches to these mertons in our provincial society; and emily is rather a showy girl, you know,--at least for those who are accustomed only to our simple habits." alas! little did lucy _then_ know--she has learned better since--that "showy" girls belong much more to our "simple" state of society, than to the state of those which are commonly conceived to be more advanced. but emily merton was, in a slight degree, more artificial in manner, than it was usual for a manhattanese female of that day, to be, and this was what lucy meant; lucy, who always thought so humbly of herself, and was ever so ready to concede to her rivals all that could plausibly be asked in their behalf. "i am well aware how much importance the leading set among ourselves attaches to english connection, and english rank," i answered; "but, it does not strike me emily merton is of a class so elevated, that rupert hardinge need break his faith, in order to reap the advantage of belonging to her, or her family." "it cannot be altogether that, miles," lucy added, in an appealing, but touchingly confidential manner, "you and i have known each other from children, and, whatever may be the weaknesses of one who is so dear to me, and who, i hope, has not altogether lost his hold on your own affections, _we_ can still rely on each other. i shall speak to you with the utmost dependence on your friendship, and a reliance on your heart that is not second to that which i place on my dear father's; for this is a subject on which there ought to be no concealment between _us_. it is impossible that one as manly, as upright, as honest i will say, as yourself, can have lived so long in close intimacy with rupert, and not be aware that he has marked defects of character." "i have long known that he is capricious," i answered, unwilling to be severe on the faults of lucy's brother, to lucy's own ear; "perhaps i might add, that i have known he pays too much attention to fashion, and the opinions of fashionable people." "nay, as _we_ cannot deceive ourselves, let us not attempt the ungrateful task of endeavouring to deceive each other," that true-hearted girl replied, though she said this with so great an effort, that i was compelled to listen attentively to catch all she uttered. "rupert has failings worse than these. he is mercenary; nor is he always a man of truth. heaven knows, how i have wept over these defects of character, and the pain they have given me from childhood! but, my dear, dear father overlooks them all--or, rather, seeing them, he hopes all things; it is hard for a parent to believe a child irreclaimable." i was unwilling to let lucy say any more on this subject, for her voice, her countenance, i might almost say her whole figure showed how much it cost her to say even this much of rupert. i had long known that lucy did not respect her brother as much as she could wish; but this was never before betrayed to me in words, nor in any other manner, indeed, that would not have eluded the observation of one who knew the parties less thoroughly than myself. i could perceive that she felt the awful consequences she foresaw from her brother's conduct gave me a claim on her sincerity, and that she was suffering martyrdom, in order to do all that lay in her own power to lessen the force of the blow that unworthy relative had inflicted. it would have been ungenerous in me to suffer such a sacrifice to continue a moment longer than was necessary. "spare yourself, and me, dearest lucy," i eagerly said, "all explanations but those which are necessary to let me know the exact state of my sister's case. i confess, i could wish to understand, however, the manner in which rupert has contrived to explain away an engagement that has lasted four years, and which must have been the source of so much innocent confidence between grace and himself." "i was coming to that, miles; and when you know it, you will know all. grace has felt his attentions to emily merton, for a long time; but there never was a verbal explanation between them until just before she left town. then she felt it due to herself to know the truth; and, after a conversation which was not very particular, your sister offered to release rupert from his engagement, did he in the least desire it." "and what answer did he make to a proposal that was as generous as it was frank?" "i must do grace the justice to say, miles, that, in all she said, she used the utmost tenderness towards my brother. still, i could not but gather the substance of what passed. rupert, at first, affected to believe that grace, herself, wished to break the engagement; but, in this, you well know, her ingenuous simplicity would not permit him to succeed. she did not attempt to conceal how deeply she should feel the change in her situation, and how much it might influence her future happiness." "ay, that was like both of them--like rupert, and like grace," i muttered, huskily. lucy continued silent an instant, apparently to allow me to regain my self-command; then she continued-- "when rupert found that the responsibility of the rupture must rest on him, he spoke more sincerely. he owned to grace that his views had changed; said they were both too young to contract themselves when they did, and that he had made an engagement to marry, at a time when he was unfit to bind himself to so solemn a contract--said something about minors, and concluded by speaking of his poverty and total inability to support a wife, now that mrs. bradfort had left me the whole of her property." "and this is the man who wishes to make the world believe that he is the true heir!--nay, who told me, himself, that he considers you as only a sort of trustee, to hold half, or two-thirds of the estate, until he has had leisure to sow his wild oats!" "i know he has encouraged such notions, miles," lucy answered, in a low voice; "how gladly would i realize his hopes, if things could be placed where we once thought they were! every dollar of mrs. bradfort's fortune would i relinquish with joy, to see grace happy, or rupert honest." "i am afraid we shall never see the first, lucy, in this evil world at least." "i have never wished for this engagement, since i have been old enough to judge of my brother's true character. he would ever have been too fickle, and of principles too light, to satisfy grace's heart, or her judgment. there may have been some truth in his plea that the engagement was too early and inconsiderately made. persons so young can hardly know what will, or what will not be necessary to their own characters, a few years later. as it is, even grace would now refuse to marry rupert. she owned to me, that the heaviest part of the blow was being undeceived in relation to his character. i spoke to her with greater freedom than a sister ought to have used, perhaps, but i wished to arouse her pride, as the means of saving her. alas! grace is all affections, and those once withered, i fear, miles, the rest of her being will go with them." i made no answer to this prophetic remark, lucy's visit to the shore, her manner, and all that she had said, convincing me that she had, in a great degree, taken leave of hope. we conversed some time longer, returning toward the cottage; but there was nothing further to communicate, that it is necessary to record. neither of us thought of self, and i would as soon have attempted to desecrate a church, as attempt to obtain any influence over lucy, in my own behalf, at such a moment. all my feelings reverted to my poor sister again, and i was dying with impatience to return to the sloop, whither, indeed, it was time to repair, the sun having some time before disappeared, while even the twilight was drawing to a close. chapter v. "the serpent of the field, by art and spells, is won from harming, but that which coils around the heart, oh! who hath power of charming?" hebrew melodies. it was not easy to make mr. hardinge a sharer in my impatience. he had taken a fancy to marble, and was as much rejoiced at this accidental discovery of the mate's parentage, as if he had been one of the family himself. with such feelings, therefore, i had a good deal of difficulty in getting him away. i asked marble to go off with me, it being understood that he was to be landed again, in order to pass the first night of his recognition under his mother's roof. to this scheme, however, he raised an objection, as soon as told it was my intention to go down the river as far as new york, in quest of further medical advice, insisting on accompanying me, in order to obtain the thousand dollars with which to face 'squire van tassel, or, at least, his mortgage sale. accordingly, there were leave-takings, and about eight we were all on board the sloop. i did not see, nor did i ask to see, my sister again, that night. i had not seen her, indeed, since the moment rupert was discovered in company with the mertons; and, to own the truth, i felt afraid to see her, knowing, as i did, how much her frame was apt to be affected by her mind. it appeared to me there remained but the single duty to perform, that of getting below as fast as possible, in order to obtain the needed medical aid. it is true, we possessed post's written instructions, and knew his opinion that the chief thing was to divert grace's thoughts from dwelling on the great cause of her malady; but, now he had left us, it seemed as if i should neglect a most sacred duty, did i delay obtaining some other competent physician. the tide turned at nine, and we got immediately under way, with a light south-west wind. as for marble, ignorant as mr. hardinge himself of the true condition of my sister, he determined to celebrate his recent discoveries by a supper. i was about to object to the project, on account of grace, but lucy begged me to let him have his way; such _convives_ as my late guardian and my own mate were not likely to be very boisterous; and she fancied that the conversation, or such parts of it as should be heard through the bulk-head, might serve to divert the invalid's mind from dwelling too intently on the accidental rencontre of the morning. the scheme was consequently carried out; and, in the course of an hour, the cabins of the wallingford presented a singular spectacle. in her berth was grace, patiently and sweetly lending herself to her friend's wish to seem to listen to her own account of the reason of the mate's _festa_, and to be amused by his sallies; lucy, all care and attention for her patient, as i could discover through the open door of the after-cabin, while she endeavoured to appear to enter into the business that was going on at the table, actually taking wine with the mate, and drinking to the happiness of his newly-found relatives; mr. hardinge, over-flowing with philanthropy, and so much engrossed with his companion's good fortune as not to think of aught else at the moment; marble, himself, becoming gradually more under the influence of his new situation, as his feelings had time to gather force and take their natural direction; while i was compelled to wear the semblance of joining in his festivities, at an instant when my whole soul was engrossed with anxiety on behalf of grace. "this milk is just the richest and best that ever came on board a vessel!" exclaimed the mate, as he was about to wind up his own share of the repast with a cup of coffee--"and as for butter, i can say i never tasted the article before. little kitty brought both down to the boat with her own hands, and that makes them so much the sweeter, too, for, if anything can add to the excellence of eatables, it is to have them pass through the hands of one's own relations. i dare say, mr. hardinge, now, you have verified this, time and again, in your own experience?" "in feeling, my friend; in feeling, often, though little in practice, in the sense that you mean. my family has been my congregation, unless, indeed, miles here, and his beloved sister, can be added to my own children in fact, as they certainly are in affection. but, i can understand how butter made by the hands of one's own mother, or by those of such a pretty niece as your kitty, would taste all the sweeter." "it's such a providential thing, as you call it, to find _such_ a mother in the bargain! now i might have discovered a slattern, or a scold, or a woman of bad character; or one that never went to church; or even one that swore and drank; for, begging your pardon, miss lucy, just such creatur's are to be met with; whereas, instead of any of these disagreeable recommendations, i've fallen in with an a. no. . mother; ay, and such an old lady as the king of england, himself, need not be ashamed to own.[a] i felt a strong desire, mr. hardinge, to get down on my knees, and to ask the dear, good old soul, just to say, 'god bless you, my dear son, moses, van duzer, or oloff, whatever your name may be.'"[ ] [footnote : in that day, all allusions to royalty were confined to the majesty of great britain; it being no uncommon thing, at the commencement of this century, to hear "_the_ king" toasted at many of the best tables of the country.] "and if you had, mr. marble, you would not have been any the worse for it. such feelings do you honour, and no man need be ashamed of desiring to receive a parent's blessing." "i suppose now, my dear sir," added marble, innocently, "that is what is called having a religious turn? i've often foreseen, that religion would fetch me up, in the long run; and now that i am altogether relieved from bitterness of heart on the subject of belonging to none, and no one's belonging to me, my sentiments have undergone a great alteration, and i feel a wish to be at peace with the whole human family--no, not with the _whole_; i except that rascally old van tassel." "you must except no one--we are told to 'love those that hate us, to bless those that curse us, and to pray for those that despitefully use us.'" marble stared at mr. hardinge; for, to own the truth, it would have been difficult, in a christian land, to meet with one of his years who had less religious instruction than himself. it is quite probable that these familiar mandates had never been heard by him before; but i could see that he was a little struck with the profound morality that pervaded them; a morality to which no human heart appears to be so insensible as not in secret to acknowledge its sublimity. still he doubted. "where are we told to do this, my dear sir?" demanded marble, after looking intently at the rector for a moment. "where? why, where we get all our divine precept and inspired morality, the bible. you must come to wish this mr. van tassel good, instead of evil; try to love, instead of hating him." "is that religion?" demanded the mate, in his most dogmatical and determined manner. "it is christianity--its spirit, its very essence; without which the heart cannot be right, let the tongue proclaim what delusion it may." marble had imbibed a sincere respect for my late guardian, equally from what he had heard me say in his favour and what he had seen himself, of his benevolent feelings kind-hearted morality, and excellent sense. nevertheless, it was not an easy matter to teach a being like marble the lesson that he was to do good to those who used him despitefully; and just at that moment he was in a frame of mind to do almost anything else, sooner than pardon van tassel. all this i could see, understanding the man so well and, in order to prevent a useless discussion that might disturb my sister, i managed to change the discourse before it was too late; i say too late, because it is not easy to shake off two moralists who sustain their doctrines as strongly as mr. hardinge and my mate. "i am glad the name of this mr. van tassel has been mentioned," i observed, "as it may be well to have your advice, sir, concerning our best mode of proceeding in his affair." i then related to mr. hardinge the history of the mortgage, and the necessity there was for promptitude, inasmuch as the sale was advertised for the ensuing week. my late guardian was better acquainted with the country, up the river, than i was myself; and it was fortunate the subject was broached, as he soon convinced me the only course to be pursued was to put marble ashore at hudson, where, if too late for the regular stage, he might obtain some other conveyance, and proceed to town by land. this would barely leave him time to transact all the necessary business, and to be back in season to prevent the title to the willow cove from passing into the usurer's grasp. as was usual with mr. hardinge, he entered into this, as into every good work, heart and hand, and immediately set about writing directions for marble's government when he got ashore. this put in end to the banquet, and glad was i to see the table removed, and the other signs of a tranquil night reappear. it was twelve before the sloop was as low as hudson, and i saw by our rate of sailing, that, indeed, there was little prospect of her reaching new york in time for marble's necessities. he was landed, therefore, and mr. hardinge and myself accompanied him to the stage-house, where we ascertained that the next morning after breakfast he would be enabled to get into the stage, which would reach town in the evening of the succeeding day. but this was altogether too slow for marble's impatience. he insisted on procuring a private conveyance, and we saw him drive out of the long street that then composed most of the city of hudson, at a slapping pace, about one o'clock in the morning. this important duty discharged, mr. hardinge and i returned to the sloop in which neb had been standing off and on, in waiting for us, and again made sail down the river. when i turned in, the wallingford was getting along at the rate of about five miles the hour; the wind having freshened, and come out at the westward, a quarter that just enabled her to lay her course. the reader will easily imagine i did not oversleep myself the following morning. my uneasiness was so great, indeed, that i dreamed of the dreadful accident which had produced my father's death, and then fancied that i saw him, my mother, and grace, all interred at the same time, and in the same grave. fortunately, the wind stood at the west, and the sloop was already within twenty miles of the creek at clawbonny, when i got on deck. all was quiet in the after-cabin; and, mr. hardinge still continuing in his berth, i went out to breathe the fresh morning air, without speaking to any below. there was no one on the quarter-deck but the pilot, who was at the helm; though i saw a pair of legs beneath the boom, close in with the mast, that i knew to be neb's, and a neat, dark petticoat that i felt certain must belong to chloe. i approached the spot, in tending to question the former on the subject of the weather during his watch; but, just as about to hail him, i heard the young lady say, in a more animated tone than was discreet for the character of the conversation-- "no, _nebber_, sah--_nebber_, widout de apperbation of my modder and de whole famerly. mattermony a berry differ t'ing, neb, from what you surposes. now, many a young nigger gentleman imagine dat he has only to coax his gal to say 'yes,' and den dey goes to de clergy and stands up for de blessin', and imagines all right for de futur', and for de present time, all which is just a derlusion and a derception. no, sah; mattermony a berry differ t'ing from _dat,_ as any old lady can tell you. de fuss t'ing in mattermony, is to hab a _consent_." "well, chloe, and hab'n't i had dis berry consent from you, now for most two year?" "ay, dat not de consent i surposes. you wouldn't t'ink, neb, ongrateful feller, to get marry, widout first askin' do consent of masser mile, i _do_ surpose! you, who has been his own waiter so long, and has gone to sea wid him so often; and has saved his life; and has helped kill so many hateful saverges; and has been on a desert conternent wid him." "i nebber told you dat, chloe--i said on an island." "well, what's the differ? you cannot tell me anyt'ing of edercation, neb; for i hab hear miss grace and miss lucy say deir lesson so often, dat i sometime surposes i can say 'em all, one by one, almost as well as my young lady, 'emselves. no, neb; on _dat_ subjeck better be silent. you been much too busy, ebber to be edercated; and, if i _do_ marry you, remember i now tell you, i shall not enter into mattermony wid you on account of any edercation you hab." "all clawbonny say dat we can make as good a couple, chloe, as ebber stood up togedder." "all clawbonny don't know much of mattermony, neb. people talks inderskrimernaterly, and doesn't know what dey says, too often. in de fuss place my modder, my own born modder, upposes our uner, and dat is a great differculty to begin wid. when a born modder upposes, a darter ought to t'ink sebberal time." "let me speak to masser mile; he'll fetch up her objeckshun wid a round turn." "what dat, neb?" "it mean masser will _order_ her to consent." "dat nebber saterfy my conscience, neb. we be nigger dat true; but no clawbonny master ebber tell a clawbonny slabe to get marry, or not to get marry, as he choose. dat would be intollabull, and not to be supported! no; mattermony is religion; and religion free. no colour' young lady hab vergin affeckshun, to t'row 'em away on just whom her masser say. but, neb, dere one odder differculty to our uner dat i don't know--sometime, i feel awful about it!" as chloe now spoke naturally, for the first time. neb was evidently startled; and i had sufficient amusement, and sufficient curiosity, to remain stationary in order to hear what this new obstacle might be. the voice of the negress was music itself; almost as sweet as lucy's; and i was struck with a slight tremor that pervaded it, as she so suddenly put an end to all her own affectation of sentiment, and nipped her airs and graces, as it might be, in the bud. "nebber talk to me of mattermony, neb," chloe continued, almost sobbing as she spoke, "while miss grace be in dis berry bad way! it hard enough to see her look so pale and melercholy, widout t'inking of becomin' a wife." "miss grace will grow better, now masser mile carry her on de water. if he only take her to sea, she get so fat and hearty, no libbin' wid her!" chloe did not acquiesce in this opinion; she rather insisted that "miss grace" was altogether too delicate and refined a person to live in a ship. but the circumstance that struck me with the greatest force, in this characteristic dialogue, was the fact that chloe betrayed to me the consciousness of the cause of my sister's indisposition; while true to her sex's instincts, and faithful to her duty, the girl completely concealed it from her lover. i was also oppressively struck with the melancholy forebodings that appeared in chloe's manner, rather than in her words, and which made it apparent that she doubted of her young mistress's recovery. she concluded the conversation by saying-- "no, no, neb--don't talk to me of mattermony while miss grace so ill; and if any t'ing _should_ happen, you need nebber talk to me of it, at _all_. i could nebber t'ink of any uner (union) should anyt'ing happen to miss grace. lub (love) will die forebber in de family, when miss grace die!" i turned away, at this speech, the tears starting to my eyes, and saw lucy standing in the companion-way. she was waiting to speak to me, and no sooner caught my eye, than beckoning me to her side, she let me know that my sister desired to see me. erasing every sign of emotion as soon as possible, i descended with lucy, and was soon at the side of my sister's berth. grace received me with an angelic smile; but, i almost gasped for breath as i noticed the prodigious change that had come over her in so brief a space. she now looked more like a being of another world than ever; and this, too, immediately after coming from the refreshment of a night's rest. i kissed her forehead, which had an unnatural chill on it, i thought; and i felt the feeble pressure of an arm that was thrown affectionately round my neck. i then sat down on the transom, still holding my sister's hand. grace looked anxiously at me for half a minute, ere she spoke, as if to ascertain how far i was conscious of her situation. "lucy tells me, brother," she at length said, "that you think of carrying me down the river, as far as town, in order to get further advice. i hope this is a mistake of our dear lucy's, however?" "it is not, grace. if the wind stand here at the westward, i hope to have you in lucy's own house in wall street, by to-morrow evening. i know she will receive you hospitably, and have ventured to form the plan without consulting you on the subject." "better that i should be at clawbonny--if anything can now do me good, brother, it will be native air, and pure country air. hearken to my request, and stop at the creek." "your serious request, grace, will be a law to me, if made on due reflection. this growing feebleness, however, alarms me; and i cannot justify it to myself not to send for advice." "remember, miles, it is not yet twenty-four hours since one of the ablest men of the country saw me. we have his written instructions; and, all that man can do for me, they will do for me. no, brother; listen to my entreaties, and go into the creek. i pine, i pine to be again at dear clawbonny, where alone i can enjoy anything like peace of body or mind. this vessel is unsuited to me; i cannot think of a future, or pray in it. brother, _dearest_ brother, carry me home, if you love me!" there was no resisting such an appeal. i went on deck with a heavy heart, and gave the necessary orders to the pilot; and, in about eight-and-forty hours after we emerged into the hudson, we left that noble stream again, to shoot beneath the shaded, leafy banks of our own inlet. grace was so feeble as to be carried to the chaise, in which she was supported by lucy, during the short drive to the house. when i reached my own dwelling, i found mr. hardinge pacing the little portico, or piazza, waiting for my arrival, with an uneasiness of manner that at once proclaimed his anxiety to see me. he had driven the horse of the chaise, and had imbibed a first impression of grace's danger. "miles, my dear boy--my second son"--the simple-hearted, excellent old man commenced; "miles, my dear boy, the hand of god has been laid heavily on us--your beloved sister, my own precious grace, is far more ill than i had any idea of, before this morning." "she is in the hands of her merciful creator," i said, struggling to command myself, "who, i greatly fear, is about to call her from a world that is not good enough for one so innocent and pure, to take her to himself. i have foreseen this from the hour i first met her, after my return; though a single ray of hope dawned on me, when post advised the change of scene. so far from producing good, this excursion has produced evil; and she is much worse than when we left home." "such short-sighted mortals are we!--but what can we do, my boy?--i confess my judgment, my faculties themselves, are nearly annihilated by the suddenness of this shock. i had supposed her illness some trifling complaint that youth and care would certainly remove; and here we stand, as it might be, at the call of the trumpet's blast, almost around her grave!" "i am most anxious to lean on your wisdom and experience, my dear sir, at this critical moment; if you will advise, i shall be happy to follow your instructions." "we must lean on god, miles," answered my worthy guardian, still pacing the piazza, the tears running down his cheeks in streams, and speaking so huskily as barely to be intelligible; "yes, we will have the prayers of the congregation next sunday morning; and most devout and heartfelt prayers they will be; for her own sainted mother was not more deservedly loved! to be called away so young--to die in the first bloom of youth and loveliness, as it were--but, it is to go to her god! we must endeavour to think of her gain--to rejoice over, rather than mourn her loss." "i grieve to perceive that you regard my sister's case as so entirely hopeless, sir." "hopeless!--it is full of the brightest promise; and when i come to look calmly at it, my reason tells me i ought not to grieve. still, miles, the loss of lucy, herself, would scarce be a more severe blow to me. i have loved her from childhood, cared for her as for one of my own, and feel the same love for her that i should feel for a second daughter. your parents were dear to me, and their children have always appeared to me to belong to my own blood. had i not been your guardian, boy, and you and grace been comparatively so rich, while i and mine were so poor, it would have been the first wish of my heart to have seen rupert and grace, you and lucy, united, which would have made you all my beloved children alike. i often thought of this, until i found it necessary to repress the hope, lest i should prove unfaithful to my trust. now, indeed, mrs. bradfort's bequest might have smoothed over every difficulty; but it came too late! it was not to be; providence had ordered otherwise." "you had an ardent supporter of your scheme in one of your children, at least, sir." "so you have given me to understand, miles, and i regret that i was informed of the fact so late, or i might have contrived to keep off other young men while you were at sea, or until an opportunity offered to enable you to secure my daughter's affections. that done, neither time nor distance could have displaced you; the needle not being more true than lucy, or the laws of nature more certain." "the knowledge of these sterling qualities, sir, only makes me regret my having come too late, so much the more." "it was not to be;--at one time, i _did_ think rupert and grace had a preference for each other; but i must have been deceived. god had ordered it otherwise, and wisely no doubt; as his omniscience foresaw the early drooping of this lovely flower. i suppose their having been educated together, so much like brother and sister, has been the reason there was so much indifference to each other's merits. you have been an exception on account of your long absences, miles, and you must look to those absences for the consolation and relief you will doubtless require. alas! alas! that i could not now fold grace to my heart, as a daughter and a bride, instead of standing over her grave! nothing but rupert's diffidence of his own claims, during our days of poverty, could have prevented him from submitting himself to so much loveliness and virtue. i acquit the ad of insensibility; for nothing but the sense of poverty and the pride of a poor gentleman, added perhaps to the brotherly regard he has always felt for grace, could have kept him from seeking her hand. grace, properly enough, would have requited his affection." such is a specimen of the delusion under which we live, daily. here was my sister dying of blighted affections, under my own roof; and the upright, conscientious father of the wretch who had produced this withering evil, utterly unconscious of the wrong that had been done; still regarding his son with the partiality and indulgence of a fond parent. to me, it seemed incredible at the time, that unsuspecting integrity could carry its simplicity so far; but i have since lived long enough to know that mistakes like these are constantly occurring around us; effects being hourly attributed to causes with which they have no connection; and causes being followed down to effects, that are as imaginary as human sagacity is faulty. as for myself, i can safely say, that in scarce a circumstance of my life, that has brought me the least under the cognizance of the public, have i ever been judged justly. in various instances have i been praised for acts that were either totally without any merit, or, at least, the particular merit imputed to them; while i have been even persecuted for deeds that deserved praise. an instance or two of the latter of these cases of the false judgment of the world will be laid before the reader as i proceed. mr. hardinge continued for some time to expatiate on the loveliness of grace's character, and to betray the weight of the blow he had received, in gaining this sudden knowledge of her danger. he seemed to pass all at once from a state of inconsiderate security to one of total hopelessness, and found the shock so much harder to endure. at length he sent for lucy, with whom he continued closeted for near an hour. i ascertained, afterwards, that he questioned the dear girl closely on the subject of my sister's malady; even desiring to know if her affections were any way connected with this extraordinary sinking of the vital powers; but not in the slightest degree inclining to the distrust of rupert's being in any manner implicated in the affair. lucy, truthful and frank as she was, felt the uselessness, nay, the danger, of enlightening her father, and managed to evade all his more delicate inquiries, without involving herself in falsehoods. she well knew, if he were apprised of the real state of the case, that rupert would have been sent for; and every reparation it was in his power to make would have been insisted on, as an act of justice; a hopeless and distressing attempt to restore the confidence of unbounded love, and the esteem which, once lost, is gone forever. perhaps the keenest of all grace's sufferings proceeded from the consciousness of the total want of merit in the man she had so effectually enshrined in her heart, that he could only be ejected by breaking in pieces and utterly destroying the tenement that had so long contained him. with ordinary notions, this change of opinion might have sufficed for the purposes of an effectual cure; but my poor sister was differently constituted. she had ever been different from most of her sex, in intensity of feeling; and had come near dying, while still a child, on the occasion of the direful catastrophe of my father's loss; and the decease of even our mother, though long expected, had come near to extinguish the flame of life in the daughter. as i have already said more than once, a being so sensitive and so pure, ever seemed better fitted for the regions of bliss, than for the collisions and sorrows of the world. now we were at clawbonny again, i scarce knew how to employ myself. grace i could not see; lucy, who took the entire management of the invalid, requiring for her rest and quiet. in this she did but follow the directions of reason, as well as those left by post; and i was fain to yield, knowing that my sister could not possibly have a more judicious or a more tender nurse. the different persons belonging to the mill and the farm came to me for directions, which i was compelled to give with thoughts engrossed with the state of my sister. more than once i endeavoured to arouse myself; and, for a few minutes, _seemed_ to enter, if i did not truly enter, with interest into the affairs presented to my consideration; but these little rallies were merely so many attempts at self-delusion, and i finally referred everything to the respective persons entrusted with the different branches of the duty bidding them act as they had been accustomed to do in my absence. "why, yes, masser mile," answered the old negro who was the head man in the field, "dis berry well, if he can do it. remember i alway hab masser hardinge to talk to me about 'e crop, and sich t'ing, and dat a won'erful help to a poor nigger when he in a nonplush." "surely, hiram, you are a better husbandman than mr. hardinge and myself put together, and cannot want the advice of either to tell you how to raise corn, or to get in hay!" "dat berry true, sah--so true, i wont deny him. but, you know how it be, masser mile; a nigger _do_ lub to talk, and it help along work won'erfully, to get a good dispute, afore he begin." as respects the blacks, this was strictly true. though as respectful as slavery and habit could make them, they were so opinionated and dogmatical, each in his or her sphere, that nothing short of a downright assertion of authority could produce submission to any notions but their own. they loved to argue the different points connected with their several duties, but they did not like to be convinced. mr. hardinge would discuss with them, from a sense of duty, and he would invariably yield, unless in cases that involved moral principles. on all such points, and they were not of unfrequent occurrence in a family of so many blacks, he was as inflexible as the laws of the medes and persians; but, as respected the wheat, the potatoes, the orchards, the mill, or the sloop, he usually submitted to the experience of those more familiar with the business, after having discussed the matters in council. this rendered him exceedingly popular at clawbonny, the persuaded usually having the same sort of success in the world as a good listener. as for the rector himself, after so many long discussions, he began to think he had actually influenced the different steps adopted; the cause of one of the illusions i have already pourtrayed. old hiram did not quit me when he came for instructions alias a "dispute," without a word of inquiry touching grace i could see that the alarm had passed among the slaves, and it was quite touching to note the effect it produced on their simple minds. it would have been sufficient for them to love her, that grace was their young mistress; but such a mistress as she had ever been, and one so winning in manner and person, they might be said almost to worship her. "i berry sorry to hear miss grace be onwell, sah," said old hiram, looking at me sorrowfully. "it go hard wid us all, if anyt'ing happen _dere_! i alway s'pose, masser mile, dat miss grace and masser rupert come togeder, some time; as we all expects you and miss lucy will. dem are happy days, sah, at clawbonny, for den we all know our new masser and new missus from de cradle. no, no--we can nebber spare miss grace, sah; even i should miss her in 'e field!" the very blacks had observed the state of things which had deluded my poor sister; and the slave had penetrated his master's secret. i turned away abruptly from the negro, lest he should also detect the evidence of the weakness extorted by his speech, from the eyes of manhood. chapter vi. --"like the lily that once was mistress of the field, and flourished, i'll hang my head, and perish." queen catherine. i saw little of lucy that night. she met us at evening prayers, and tears were in her eyes as she arose from her knees. without speaking, she kissed her father for good night, more affectionately than ever, i thought, and then turned to me. her hand was extended, (we had seldom met or parted for eighteen years, without observing this little act of kindness), but she did not--nay, _could not_, speak. i pressed the little hand fervently in my own, and relinquished it again, in the same eloquent silence. she was seen no more by us until next day. the breakfast had ever been a happy meal at clawbonny. my father, though merely a ship-master, was one of the better class; and he had imbibed many notions, in the course of his different voyages, that placed him much in advance of the ordinary habits of his day and country. then an _american_ ship-master is usually superior to those of other countries. this arises from some of the peculiarities of our institutions, as well as from the circumstance that the navy is so small. among other improvements, my father had broken in upon the venerable american custom of swallowing a meal as soon as out of bed. the breakfast at clawbonny, from my earliest infancy, or as long as i can remember, had been eaten regularly at nine o'clock, a happy medium between the laziness of dissipation and the hurry of ill-formed habits. at that hour the whole family used to meet, still fresh from a night's repose, and yet enlivened and gay by an hour or two of exercise in the open air, instead of coming to the family board half asleep, with a sort of drowsy sulkiness, as, if the meal were a duty, and not a pleasure. we ate as leisurely as keen appetites would permit; laughed, chatted, related the events of the morning, conversed of our plans for the day, and indulged our several tastes and humours, like people who had been up and stirring, and not like so many drowsy drones swallowing our food for form's sake. the american breakfast has been celebrated by several modern writers, and it deserves to be, though certainly not to be compared to that of france. still it might be far better than it is, did our people understand the _mood_ in which it ought to be enjoyed. while on this subject, the reader will excuse an old man's prolixity, if i say a word on the state of the science of the table in general, as it is put in practice in this great republic. a writer of this country, one mr. cooper, has somewhere said that the americans are the grossest feeders in the civilized world, and warns his countrymen to remember that a national character may be formed in the kitchen. this remark is commented on by captain marryatt, who calls it both unjust and ill-natured. as for the ill-nature i shall say nothing, unless it be to remark that i do not well see how that which is undeniably true ought to be thought so very ill-natured. that it is true, every american who has seen much of other lands must know. captain-marryatt's allegation that the tables are good in the large towns, has nothing to do with the merits of this question. the larger american towns are among the best eating and drinking portions of the world. but what are they as compared to the whole country? what are the public tables, or the tables of the refined, as compared to the tables of the mass, even in these very towns? all things are to be judged of by the rules, and not by the exceptions. because a small portion of the american population understand what good cookery is, it by no means follows that _all_ do. who would think of saying that the people of england live on white bait and venison, because the nobility and gentry (the aldermen inclusive) can enjoy both, in the seasons, _ad libitum?_ i suspect this mr. cooper knows quite as well what he is about, when writing of america, as any european. if pork fried in grease, and grease pervading half the other dishes, vegetables cooked without any art, and meats done to rags, make a good table, then is this mr. cooper wrong, and captain marryatt right, and _vice versâ_. as yet, while nature has done so much in america, art has done but little. much compared with numbers and time, certainly, but little as compared with what numbers and time have done elsewhere. nevertheless, i would make an exception in favour of america, as respects the table of one country, though not so much in connection with the coarseness of the feeding as in the poverty of the food. i consider the higher parts of germany to be the portions of the christian world where eating and drinking are in the most primitive condition; and that part of this great republic, which mr. alison would probably call the _state_ of new england, to come next. in abundance and excellence of food in the native form, america is particularly favoured; baltimore being at the very nucleus of all that is exquisite in the great business of mastication. nevertheless, the substitution of cooks from the interior of new england, for the present glistening tenants of her kitchens, would turn even that paradise of the epicure into a sort of oleaginous waste. enough of cookery. lucy did not appear at prayers next morning! i felt her absence as one feels the certainty of some dreadful evil. breakfast was announced; still lucy did not appear. the table was smoking and hissing; and romeo clawbonny, who acted as the everyday house-servant, or footman, had several times intimated that it might be well to commence operations, as a cold breakfast was very cold comfort. "miles, my dear boy," observed mr. hardinge, after opening the door to look for the absentee half a dozen times, "we will wait no longer. my daughter, no doubt, intends to breakfast with grace, to keep the poor dear girl company; for it _is_ dull work to breakfast by oneself. you and i miss lucy sadly, at this very moment, though we have each other's company to console us." we had just taken our seats, when the door slowly opened, and lucy entered the room. "good morning, dearest father," said the sweet girl, passing an arm round mr. hardinge's neck, with more than her usual tenderness of manner, and imprinting a long kiss on his bald head. "good morning, miles," stretching towards me a hand, but averting her face, as afraid it might reveal too much, when exposed fully to my anxious and inquiring gaze. "grace passed a pretty quiet night, and is, i think, a little less disturbed this morning than she was yesterday." neither of us answered or questioned the dear nurse. what a breakfast was that, compared to so many hundreds in which i had shared at that very table, and in that same room! three of the accustomed faces were there, it is true; all the appliances were familiar, some dating as far back as the time of the first miles; romeo, now a grey-headed and wrinkled negro, was in his usual place; but chloe, who was accustomed to pass often between her young mistress and a certain closet, at that meal, which never seemed to have all we wanted arranged on the table at first, was absent, as was that precious "young mistress" herself. "gracious providence!" i mentally ejaculated, "is it thy will it should _ever_ be thus? am i _never_ again to see those dove-like eyes turned on me in sisterly affection from the head of my table, as i have so often seen them, on hundreds and hundreds of occasions?" lucy's spirits had sometimes caused her to laugh merrily; and her musical voice once used to mingle with rupert's and my own more manly and deeper notes, in something like audible mirth; not that lucy was ever boisterous or loud; but, in early girlhood, she had been gay and animated, to a degree that often blended with the noisier clamour of us boys. with grace, this had never happened. she seldom spoke, except in moments when the rest were still; and her laugh was rarely audible, though so often heartfelt and joyous. it may seem strange to those who have never suffered the pang of feeling that such a customary circle was broken up forever; but, that morning, the first in which i keenly felt that my sister was lost to me, i actually missed her graceful, eloquent, silence! "miles," said lucy, as she rose from the table, tears trembling on her eyelids as she spoke, "half an hour hence come to the family room. grace wishes to see you _there_ this morning, and i have not been able to deny her request. she is weak, but thinks the visit will do her good. do not fail to be punctual, as waiting might distress her. good morning, dearest papa; when i want _you_, i will send for you." lucy left us with these ominous notices, and i felt the necessity of going on the lawn for air. i walked my half-hour out, and returned to the house in time to be punctual to the appointment. chloe met me at the door, and led the way in silence towards the family room. her hand was no sooner laid on the latch than lucy appeared, beckoning me to enter. i found grace reclining on that small settee, or _causeuse_, on which we had held our first interview, looking pallid and uneasy, but still looking lovely and as ethereal as ever. she held out a hand affectionately, and then i saw her glance towards lucy, as if asking to be left with me alone. as for myself, i could not speak. taking my old place, i drew my sister's head on my bosom, and sat holding it in silence for many painful minutes. in that position i could conceal the tears which forced themselves from my eyes, it exceeding all my powers to repress these evidences of human grief. as i took my place, the figure of lucy disappeared, and the door closed. i never knew how long a time grace and i continued in that tender attitude. i was not in a state of mind to note such a fact, and have since striven hard to forget most that occurred in that solemn interview. after a lapse of so many years, however, i find memory painfully accurate on all the leading circumstances, though it was impossible to recall a point of which i took no heed at the moment. such things only as made an impression is it in my power to relate. when grace gently, and i might add faintly, raised herself from my bosom, she turned on me eyes that were filled with a kind anxiety on my account rather than on her own. "brother," she said, earnestly, "the will of god must be submitted to--i am very, _very_ ill--broken in pieces--i grow weaker every hour. it is not right to conceal such a truth from ourselves, or from each other." i made no reply, although she evidently paused to give me an opportunity to speak. i could not have uttered a syllable to have saved my life. the pause was impressive, rather than long. "i have sent for you, dearest miles," my sister continued, "not that i think it probable i shall be called away soon or suddenly--god will spare me for a little while, i humbly trust, in order to temper the blow to those i love; but he is about to call me to him, and we must all be prepared for it; you, and dear, dear lucy, and my beloved guardian, as well as myself. i have not sent for you even to tell you this; for lucy gives me reason to believe you expect the separation; but i wish to speak to you on a subject that is very near my heart, while i have strength and fortitude to speak on it at all. promise me, dearest, to be calm, and to listen patiently." "your slightest wish will be a law to me, beloved, most precious sister; i shall listen as if we were in our days of childish confidence and happiness--though i fear those days are never to return!" "feel not thus, miles, my noble-hearted, manly brother. heaven will not desert you, unless you desert your god; it does not desert me, but angels beckon me to its bliss! were it not for you and lucy, and my dear, dear guardian, the hour of my departure would be a moment of pure felicity. but we will not talk of this now. you must prepare yourself, miles, to hear me patiently, and to be indulgent to my last wishes, even should they seem unreasonable to your mind at first." "i have told you, grace, that a request of your's will be a law to me; have no hesitation, therefore, in letting me know any, or all your wishes." "let us, then, speak of worldly things; for the last time, i trust, my brother. sincerely do i hope that this will be the last occasion on which i shall ever be called to allude to them. this duty discharged, all that will remain to me on earth will be the love i bear my friends. this heaven itself will excuse, as i shall strive not to let it lessen that i bear my god." grace paused, and i sat wondering what was to follow, though touched to the heart by her beautiful resignation to a fate that to most so young would seem hard to be borne. "miles, my brother," she continued, looking at me anxiously, "we have not spoken much of your success in your last voyage, though i have understood that you have materially increased your means." "it has quite equalled my expectations; and, rich in my ship and ready money, i am content, to say nothing of clawbonny. do what you will with your own, therefore, my sister; not a wish of mine shall ever grudge a dollar; i would rather not be enriched by your loss. make your bequests freely, and i shall look on each and all of them as so many memorials of your affectionate heart and many virtues." grace's cheeks flushed, and i could see that she was extremely gratified, though still tremblingly anxious. "you doubtless remember that by our father's will, miles, my property becomes your's, if i die without children before i reach the age of twenty-one; while your's would have been mine under the same circumstances. as i am barely twenty, it is out of my power to make a legal will." "it is in your power to make one that shall be equally binding, grace. i will go this instant for pen, ink, and paper; and, as you dictate, will i write a will that shall be even more binding than one that might come within the rules of the law." "nay, brother, that is unnecessary; all i wish i have already said in a letter addressed to yourself; and which, should you now approve of it, will be found among my papers as a memorandum. but there should be no misapprehension between you and me, dearest miles. i do not wish you even fully to consent to my wishes, now; take time to consider, and let your judgment have as much influence on your decision as your own excellent heart." "i am as ready to decide at this moment as i shall be a year hence. it is enough for me that you wish the thing done, to have it done, sister." "bless you--bless you--brother"--said grace, affectionately pressing my hand to her heart--"not so much that you consent to do as i wish, as for the spirit and manner in which you comply. still, as i ask no trifle, it is proper that i release you from all pledges here given, and allow you time for reflection. then, it is also proper you should know the full extent of what you promise." "it is enough for me that it will be in my power to perform what you desire; further than that i make no stipulation." i could see that grace was profoundly struck with this proof of my attachment; but her own sense of right was too just and active to suffer the matter to rest there. "i must explain further," she added. "mr. hardinge has been a most faithful steward; and, by means of economy, during my long minority, the little cost that has attended my manner of living, and some fortunate investments that have been made of interest-money, i find myself a good deal richer than i had supposed. in relinquishing my property, miles, you will relinquish rather more than two-and-twenty thousand dollars; or quite twelve hundred a year. there ought to be no misapprehensions on this subject, between us; least of all at such a moment." "i wish it were more, my sister, since it gives you pleasure to bestow it. if it will render you any happier to perfect any of your plans, take ten thousand of my own, and add to the sum which is now your's. i would increase, rather than lessen your means of doing good." "miles--miles"--said grace, dreadfully agitated--"talk not thus--it almost shakes my purpose! but no; listen now to my wishes, for i feel this will be the last time i shall ever dare to speak on the subject. in the first place, i wish you to purchase some appropriate ornament, of the value of five hundred dollars, and present it to lucy as a memorial of her friend. give also one thousand dollars in money to mr. hardinge, to be distributed in charity. a letter to him on the subject, and one to lucy, will also be found among my papers. there will still remain enough to make suitable presents to the slaves, and leave the sum of twenty thousand dollars entire and untouched." "and what shall i do with these twenty thousand dollars, sister?" i asked, grace hesitating to proceed. "that sum, dearest miles, i wish to go to rupert. you know that he is totally without fortune, with the habits of a man of estate. the little i can leave him will not make him rich, but it may be the means of making him happy and respectable. i trust lucy will add to it, when she comes of age, and the future will be happier for them all than the past." my sister spoke quick, and was compelled to pause for breath. as for myself, the reader can better imagine than i can describe my sensations, which were of a character almost to overwhelm me. the circumstance that i felt precluded from making any serious objections, added to the intensity of my suffering, left me in a state of grief, regret, indignation, wonder, pity and tenderness, that it is wholly out of my power to delineate. here, then, was the tenderness of the woman enduring to the last; caring for the heartless wretch who had destroyed the very springs of life in her physical being, while it crushed the moral like a worm beneath the foot; yet bequeathing, with her dying breath, as it might be, all the worldly goods in her possession, to administer to his selfishness and vanity! "i know you must think this strange, brother;" resumed grace, who doubtless saw how utterly unable i was to reply; "but, i shall not die at peace with myself without it. unless he possess some marked assurance of my forgiveness, my death will render rupert miserable; with such a marked assurance, he will be confident of possessing my pardon and my prayers. then, both he and emily are pennyless, i fear, and their lives may be rendered blanks for the want of the little money it is in my power to bestow. at the proper time, lucy, i feel confident, will add her part; and you, who remain behind me, can all look on my grave, and bless its humble tenant!" "angel!" i murmured--"this is too much! can you suppose rupert will accept this money?" ill as i thought of rupert hardinge, i could not bring my mind to believe he was so base as to receive money coming from such a source, and with such a motive. grace, however, viewed the matter differently; not that she attached anything discreditable to rupert's compliance, for her own womanly tenderness, long and deeply rooted attachment, made it appear to her eyes more as an act of compliance with her own last behest, than as the act of degrading meanness it would unquestionably appear to be, to all the rest of the world. "how can he refuse this to me, coming to him, as the request will, from my grave?" rejoined the lovely enthusiast. "he will owe it to me; he will owe it to our former affection--for he once loved me, miles; nay, he loved me even more than you ever did, or could, dearest--much as i know you love me." "by heavens, grace," i exclaimed, unable to control myself any longer, "that is a fearful mistake. rupert hardinge is incapable of loving anything but himself; he has never been worthy of occupying the most idle moment of a heart true and faithful as your's." these words escaped me under an impulse i found entirely impossible to control. scarcely were they uttered, ere i deeply regretted the indiscretion. grace looked at me imploringly, turned as pale as death, and trembled all over, as if on the verge of dissolution. i took her in my arms, i implored her pardon, i promised to command myself in future, and i repeated the most solemn assurances of complying with her wishes to the very letter. i am not certain i could have found it in my heart not to have recalled my promise, but for the advantage my sister obtained over me, by means of this act of weakness. there was something so exceedingly revolting to me in the whole affair, that even grace's holy weakness failed to sanctify the act in my eyes; at least so far as rupert was concerned. i owe it to myself to add that not a selfish thought mingled with my reluctance, which proceeded purely from the distaste i felt to seeing lucy's brother, and a man for whom i had once entertained a boyish regard, making himself so thoroughly an object of contempt. as i entertained serious doubts of even rupert's sinking so low, i felt the necessity of speaking to my sister on the subject of such a contingency. "one might hesitate about accepting your money, after all, dearest sister," i said; "and it is proper you give me directions what i am to do, in the event of rupert's declining the gift." "i think that is little probable, miles," answered grace, who lived and died under a species of hallucination on the subject of her early lover's real character--"rupert may not have been able to command his affections, but he cannot cease to feel a sincere friendship for me; to remember our ancient confidence and intimacy. he will receive the bequest, as you would take one from dear lucy," added my sister, a painful-looking smile illuminating that angelic expression of countenance to which i have so often alluded; "or, as that of a sister. _you_ would not refuse such a thing to lucy's dying request, and why should rupert to mine?" poor grace! little did she see the immense difference there was in my relation to lucy and that which rupert bore to her. i could not explain this difference, however, but merely assented to her wishes, renewing, for the fourth or fifth time, my pledges of performing with fidelity all she asked at my hands. grace then put into my hands an unsealed letter addressed to rupert, which she desired me to read when alone, and which i was to have delivered with the legacy or donation of money. "let me rest once more on your bosom, miles," said grace, reclining her head in my arms, quite exhausted under the reaction of the excitement she had felt while urging her request. "i feel happier, at this moment, than i have been for a long time; yet, my increasing weakness admonishes me it cannot last long. miles, darling, you must remember all our sainted mother taught you in childhood, and you will not mourn over my loss. could i leave you united to one who understood and appreciated your worth, i should die contented. but you will be left alone, poor miles; for a time, at least, you will mourn for me." "forever--long as life lasts, beloved grace," i murmured, almost in her ear. exhaustion kept my sister quiet for a quarter of an hour, though i felt an occasional pressure of her hands, both of which held one of mine; and i could hear words asking blessings and consolation for me, whispered, from time to time, in heartfelt petitions to heaven. as she gained strength by repose, my sister felt the desire to continue the discourse revive. i begged her not to incur the risk of further fatigue but she answered, smiling affectionately in my face-- "rest!--there will be no permanent rest for me, until laid by the side of my parents. miles, do your thoughts ever recur to that picture of the future that is so precious to the believer, and which leads us to hope, if not absolutely to confide in it as a matter of faith, that we may recognise each other in the next state of being, and that in a communion still sweeter than any of this life, since it will be a communion free from all sin, and governed by holiness?" "we sailors give little heed to these matters, grace; but i feel that, in future, the idea you have just mentioned will be full of consolation to me." "remember, my best-beloved brother, it is only the blessed that can enjoy such a recognition--to the accursed it must add an additional weight to the burthen of their woe." "felix trembled!" the thought that even this chance of again meeting my sister, and of communing with her in the form in which i had ever seen and loved her might be lost, came in aid of other good resolutions that the state of the family had quickened in my heart. i thought, however, it might be well not to let grace lead the conversation to such subjects, after all that had just passed, repose becoming necessary to her again. i therefore proposed calling lucy, in order that she might be carried to her own room. i say carried; for, by a remark that fell from chloe, i had ascertained that this was the mode in which she had been brought to the place of meeting. grace acquiesced; but while we waited for chloe to answer the bell, she continued to converse. "i have not exacted of you, miles," my sister continued, "any promise to keep my bequest a secret from the world; your own sense of delicacy would do that; but, i will make it a condition that you do not speak of it to either mr. hardinge or lucy. they may possibly raise weak objections, particularly the last, who has, and ever has had, some exaggerated opinions about receiving money. even in heydays of poverty, and poor as she was, you know, notwithstanding our true love for each other, and close intimacy, i never could induce lucy to receive a cent. nay, so scrupulous has she been that the little presents which friends constantly give and receive, she would decline, because she had not the means of offering them in return." i remembered the gold the dear girl had forced on me, when i first went to sea, and could have kneeled at her feet and called her "blessed." "and this did not make you love and respect lucy the less, my sister? but do not answer; so much conversing must distress you." "not at all, miles. i speak without suffering, nor does the little talking i do enfeeble me in the least. when i appear exhausted, it is from the feelings which accompany our discourse. i talk much, very much, with dear lucy, who hears me with more patience than yourself, brother!" i knew that this remark applied to grace's wish to dwell on the unknown future, and did not receive it as a reproach in any other sense. as she seemed calm, however, i was willing to indulge her wish to converse with me, so long as she dwelt on subjects that did not agitate her. speaking of her hopes of heaven had a contrary effect, and i made no further opposition. "lucy's hesitation to be under the obligations you mention did not lessen her in your esteem?" i repeated. "you know it could not, miles. lucy is a dear, good girl; and the more intimately one knows her, the more certain is one to esteem her. i have every reason to bless and pray for lucy; still, i desire you not to make either her or her father acquainted with my bequest." "rupert would hardly conceal such a thing from so near and dear friends." "let rupert judge of the propriety of that for himself. kiss me, brother; do not ask to see me again to-day, for i have much to arrange with lucy; to-morrow i shall expect a long visit. god bless you, my own, dear,--my _only_ brother, and ever have you in his holy keeping!" i left the room as chloe entered; and, in threading the long passage that led to the apartment which was appropriated to my own particular purposes, as an office, cabinet, or study, i met lucy near the door of the latter. i could see she had been weeping, and she followed me into the room. "what do you think of her, miles?" the dear girl asked, uttering the words in a tone so low and plaintive as to say all that she anticipated herself. "we shall lose her, lucy; yes, 'tis god's pleasure to call her to himself." had worlds depended on the effort, i could not have got out another syllable. the feelings which had been so long pent up in grace's presence broke out, and i am not ashamed to say that i wept and sobbed like an infant. how kind, how woman-like, how affectionate did lucy show herself at that bitter moment. she said but little, though i think i overheard her murmuring "poor miles!"--"poor, _dear_ miles!"--"what a blow it must be to a brother!"--"god will temper this loss to him!" and other similar expressions. she took one of my hands and pressed it warmly between both her own; held it there for two or three minutes; hovered round me, as the mother keeps near its slumbering infant when illness renders rest necessary; and seemed more like a spirit sympathizing with my grief than a mere observer of its violence. in reflecting on what then passed months afterwards, it appeared to me that lucy had entirely forgotten herself, her own causes of sorrow, her own feelings as respected grace, in the single wish to solace me. but this was ever her character; this was her very nature; to live out of herself, as it might be, and in the existences of those whom she esteemed or loved. during this scene, lucy lost most of the restraints which womanhood and more matured habits had placed on her deportment; and she behaved towards me with the innocent familiarity that marked our intercourse down to the time i sailed in the crisis. it is true, i was too dreadfully agitated at first to take heed of all that passed; but, i well remember, that, before leaving me in obedience to a summons from grace, she laid her head affectionately on mine, and kissed the curls with which nature had so profusely covered the last. i thought, at the time, notwithstanding, that the salute would have been on the forehead, or cheek, three years before, or previously to her acquaintance with drewett. i was a long time in regaining entire self-command; but, when i did, i opened my sister's letter to rupert, agreeably to her request, and perused it thrice without a pause, even to reflect. it was conceived in these words:-- "my dearest rupert-- "god, in his infinite and inscrutable wisdom, when you read this letter, will have seen fit to call me to himself. let not this seeming loss, in any manner, afflict you, my friend; for i feel the humble assurance that i shall reap the full benefit of the saviour's great sacrifice. i could not have been happy in this life, rupert; and it is a mercy that i am taken, thus early, to a better. it grieves me to part from your excellent father, from yourself, from our precious and rightfully beloved lucy, and from dear, dear miles. this is the last tribute i pay to nature, and i hope it will be pardoned for its character. there is a strong hope within me, that my death will be sanctified to the benefit of my friends. with this view, and this view only, beloved rupert, i wish you to remember it. in all other respects let it be forgotten. you have found it impossible to command your affections, and worlds would not have tempted me to become your wife without possessing all your heart. i pray daily, almost hourly"--tears had evidently blotted this portion of the letter--"for you and emily. live together, and make each other happy. she is a sweet girl; has enjoyed advantages that clawbonny could not bestow, and which will contribute to your gratification. in order that you may sometimes think of me"--poor grace was not aware of this contradiction in her requests--"miles will send you a legacy that i leave you. accept it as a little fortune with emily. i wish sincerely, it were much larger; but you will not overlook the intention, and forget the insufficiency of the sum. small as it is, i trust it will enable you to marry at once, and lucy's heart may be confided in for the rest. "farewell, rupert--i do not say, farewell emily; for i think this letter, as well as its object, had better remain a secret between you and me, and my brother--but i wish your future wife all earthly happiness, and an end as full of hope as that which attends the death-bed of your affectionate "grace wallingford." oh! woman, woman, what are ye not, when duly protected and left to the almost divine impulses of your generous natures! what may ye not become, when rendered mercenary and envious by too close a contact with those worldly interests which are never admitted to an ascendancy without destroying all your moral beauty! chapter vii. "and the beautiful, whose record is the verse that cannot die, they too are gone, with their glorious bloom, from the love of human eye." mrs. hemans. i cannot dwell minutely on the events of the week that succeeded. grace sunk daily, hourly; and the medical advice that was obtained, more as a duty than with any hope of its benefiting the patient, failed of assisting her. mr. hardinge saw the invalid often, and i was admitted to her room each day, where she would lie, reclining on my bosom for hours at a time, seemingly fond of this innocent indulgence of her affections, on the eve of her final departure. as it was out of the question that my sister should again visit the family room, the _causeuse_ was brought into her chamber, where it was made to perform the office to which it had been several times devoted in its proper apartment since my return from sea. that venerable chair still exists, and i often pass thoughtful hours in it in my old age, musing on the past, and recalling the different scenes and conversations of which it could tell, did it possess consciousness and the faculty of speech. mr. hardinge officiated in his own church, agreeably to his intention, on the succeeding sunday. lucy remained with her friend; and i make no doubt their spirits devoutly communed with ours the while; for i mastered sufficient fortitude to be present at st. michael's. i could observe an earnest sympathy in every member of the little congregation; and tears fell from nearly every eye when the prayer for the sick was read. mr. hardinge remained at the rectory for the further duties of the day; but i rode home immediately after morning service, too uneasy to remain absent from the house longer than was necessary, at such a moment. as my horse trotted slowly homeward, he overtook neb, who was walking towards clawbonny, with an air so different from his customary manner, i could not help remarking it. neb was a muscular, active black, and usually walked as if his legs were all springs; but he moved along now so heavily, that i could not but see some weight upon the spirits had produced this influence on the body. the change was, naturally enough, attributed to the state of affairs with chloe; and i felt disposed to say a word to my faithful slave, who had been unavoidably overlooked in the pressure of sorrow that had weighed me down for the last ten days. i spoke to the poor fellow as cheerfully as i could, as i came up, and endeavoured to touch on such subjects as i thought might interest without troubling him. "this is a famous windfall that has crossed mr. marble's track, neb," i said, pulling up, in order to go a short distance at an even pace with my brother-tar. "as nice an old woman for a mother, as pretty a little girl for a niece, and as snug a haven to moor in, at the end of the voyage, as any old worn-out sea-dog could or ought to wish." "yes, sir, masser mile," neb answered, as i fancied, in the manner of one who was thinking of something different from what he said; "yes, sir, mr. marble a reg'lar sea-dog." "and as such not the less entitled to have a good old mother, a pretty niece, and a snug home." "no, sir; none de wuss for bin' sea-dog, all must allow. nebberdeless, masser mile, i sometime wish you and i nebber hab see salt water." "that is almost as much as wishing we never looked down the hudson from the hills and banks of clawbonny boy; the river itself being salt not far below us. you are thinking of chloe, and fancying, that had you stayed at home, your chance of getting into her good graces would have been better." "no, masser mile; no, _sir_. nobody at clawbonny t'ink, just now, of anyt'ing but deat'." i started in surprise. mr. hardinge kept everything like exaggeration and those physical excitements which it is so much the habit of certain sects to mistake for religious impulses, even from the negroes of the clawbonny property. neb's speech sounded more like an innovation of this nature than i had ever heard among my people; and i looked hard at the fellow for an instant, before i answered. "i am afraid i understand you, neb," was my reply, after a meaning pause. "it is a relief to me to find that my people retain all their affections for the children of their old master and mistress." "we hard-hearted indeed, sir, if we don't. ah! _masser_ mile, you and i see many dreadful t'ing togeder, but we nebber see any t'ing like dis!" neb's dark cheek was glistening with tears as he spoke, and i spurred my horse, lest my own manhood might give way, there in the road, and in the presence of those who were fast approaching. why neb had expressed sorrow for having ever gone to sea, i could not account for in any other manner than by supposing that he imagined grace was, in some manner, a sufferer by my absence from home. when i reached the house, not a soul was visible. the men had all gone to church, and were to be seen in the distance, coming, along the road, singly and in a melancholy manner, not a sign of the customary, thoughtless merriment of a negro escaping a single individual among them; but it was usual for some of the black venuses to be seen sunning themselves at that season, exhibiting their summer finery to each other and their admirers. not one was now visible. all the front of the house, the lawn, the kitchens, of which there were no less than three, and the kitchen yards; in short, every familiar haunt of the dwelling was deserted and empty. this boded evil; and, throwing the bridle over a post, i walked hurriedly towards the part of the building, or _buildings_, would be a better word, inhabited by grace. as i entered the passage which communicated with my sisters own room, the departure from ordinary appearances was explained. six or seven of the negresses were kneeling near the door, and i could hear the low, solemn, earnest voice of lucy, reading some of the collects and other prayers suited to the sick-chamber and to the wants of a parting soul. lucy's voice was music itself, but never before had it sounded so plaintively sweet. the lowest intonation was distinctly audible, as if the dear, devout creature felt that the being she addressed was not to be approached in any other manner, while the trembling earnestness of the tones betrayed the depth of feeling with which each syllable escaped from the heart. talk of liturgies impairing the fervour of prayer! this may be the fact with those who are immersed in themselves while communing with god, and cannot consent even to pray without placing their own thoughts and language, however ill-digested and crude, uppermost in the business of the moment. do not such persons know that, as respects united worship, their own prayers are, to all intents and purposes, a formulary to their listeners, with the disadvantage of being received without preparation or direction to the mind?--nay, too often substituting a critical and prurient curiosity for humble and intelligent prayer? in these later times, when christianity is re-assuming the character of the quarrels of sects, and, as an old man who has lived, and hopes to die, in communion with the anglo-american church, i do not wish to exculpate my own particular branch of the catholic body from blame; but, in these later times, when christianity is returning to its truculency, forgetful of the chiefest of virtues, charity, i have often recalled the scene of that solemn noon-tide, and asked myself the question, "if any man could have heard lucy, as i did, on that occasion, concluding with the petition which christ himself gave to his disciples as a comprehensive rule, if not absolutely as a formulary, and imagine the heart could not fully accompany words that had been previously prescribed?" no sooner had lucy's solemn tones ceased than i passed through the crowd of weeping and still kneeling blacks, and entered my sister's room. grace was reclining in an easy chair; her eyes closed, her hands clasped together, but lying on her knees, and her whole attitude and air proclaiming a momentary but total abstraction of the spirit. i do not think she heard my footstep at all, and i stood at her side an instant, uncertain whether to let her know of my presence, or not. at this instant i caught the eye of lucy, who seemed intent on the wish to speak to me. grace had three or four small rooms that communicated with each other, in her part of the dwelling; and into one of these, which served as a sort of _boudoir_, though the name was then unknown in america, i followed the dear girl, whose speaking but sad look had bidden me do so. "is my father near at hand?" lucy asked, with an interest i did not understand, since she must have known he intended to remain at his own residence, in readiness for the afternoon service. "he is not. you forget he has to attend to evening prayers." "i have sent for him--miles," taking one of my hands in both her own, with the tenderness a mother would manifest to a very dear child, "_dear_ miles, you must summon all your fortitude." "is my sister worse?" i demanded, huskily; for, prepared as i was for the result, i was not expecting it by any means so soon. "i cannot call it worse, miles, to be about to be called away to god in such a frame of mind. but it is proper i should tell you all. rather less than an hour since, grace told me that the hour was at hand. she has the knowledge of her approaching end, though she would not let me send for you. she said you would have ample time to witness it all. for my father, however, i have sent, and he must soon be here." "almighty providence! lucy, do you really think we shall lose grace so soon?" "as it is the will of god to take her from us, miles, i can scarce repine that her end should be so easy, and, in all respects, so tranquil." so long as memory is granted to me, will the picture that lucy presented at that moment remain vividly impressed on my mind. she loved grace as a most dear sister; loved her as an affectionate, generous-minded, devoted woman alone can love; and yet, so keenly was she alive to the nature of the communication it was her duty to make, that concern for me alone reigned in her saddened and anxious eye. her mind had schooled itself to bear its own grief; and meek, believing, and disposed to foresee all that her profound faith taught her to hope, i do believe she considered my sister a subject of envy rather than of regret, though her solicitude on my account was so absorbing. this generous self-denial touched my feelings in more ways than one, enabling me to command myself to a degree that might otherwise have been out of my power, during the few succeeding hours. i felt ashamed to manifest all i endured in the presence of so much meek but pious fortitude, and that exhibited by one whose heart i so well knew to be the very seat of the best human affections. the sad smile that momentarily illuminated lucy's countenance, as she gazed anxiously in my face when speaking, was full of submissive hope and christian faith. "god's will be done," i rather whispered than uttered aloud. "heaven is a place more suited to such a spirit than the abodes of men." lucy pressed my hand, and appeared relieved from a load of intense anxiety by this seeming fortitude. she bade me remain where i was, until she had herself apprized grace of my return from church. i could see through the open door that the negresses had been directed to retire, and presently i heard the footstep of mr. hardinge approaching the room adjoining that in which i then was, and which answered the purpose of a sort of ante-chamber for those who came to the sick-room from the more public side of the house. i met my excellent old guardian in that apartment, and lucy was at my side at the next instant. one word from the last sufficed to keep us in this room while she returned to that of grace. "god have mercy on us, my dear boy"--the divine ejaculated, as much in prayer as in grief--"and i say on _us_, as well as on _you_, for grace has ever been dear to me as a child of my own. i knew the blow must come, and have prayed the lord to prepare us all for it, and to sanctify it to us, old and young; but, notwithstanding, death has come 'literally' when no man knoweth. i must have materials for writing, miles, and you will choose an express for me out of your people; let the man be ready to mount in half an hour; for i shall not require half that time to prepare my letter." "medical advice is useless, i am afraid, dear sir," i answered. "we have post's directions, and very respectable attendance from our own family physician, dr. wurtz, who gave me to understand several days since that he saw no other means of averting the evil we dread than those already adopted. still, sir, i shall be easier, if we can persuade dr. bard to cross the river, and have already thought of sending neb once more on that errand." "do so," returned mr. hardinge, drawing towards him a little table on which dr. wurtz had written a few prescriptions that were used more for form, i believe, than any expectation of the good they could do; and beginning to write, even while talking--"do so"--he added--"and neb can put this letter in the post-office on the eastern bank of the river, which will be the quickest mode of causing it to reach rupert" "rupert!" i exclaimed, on a key that i instantly regretted. "certainly; we can do no less than send for rupert, miles. he has ever been like a brother to grace, and the poor fellow would feel the neglect keenly, did we overlook him on an occasion like this. you seem astonished at my thinking of summoning him to clawbonny." "rupert is at the springs, sir--happy in the society of miss merton--would it not be better to leave him where he is?" "what would you think, miles, were lucy on her death-bed, and we should fail to let you know it?" i gazed so wildly at the good old man, i believe, that even his simplicity could not avoid seeing the immense difference between the real and the supposititious case. "very true, poor miles; very true," mr. hardinge added, in an apologetic manner; "i see the weakness of my comparison, though i was beginning to hope you were already regarding lucy, once more, with the eyes of a brother. but rupert must not be forgotten neither; and here is my letter already written." "it will be too late, sir," i got out, hoarsely--"my sister cannot survive the day." i perceived that mr. hardinge was not prepared for this, his cheek grew pale, and his hand trembled as he sealed the epistle. still he sent it, as i afterwards discovered. "god's will be done!" the excellent divine murmured. "if such should really be his holy will, we ought not to mourn that another humble christian spirit is called away to the presence of its great creator! rupert can, at least, attend, to do honour to all that we can honour of the saint we lose." there was no resisting or contending with so much simplicity and goodness of heart; and, had it been in my power, a summons to the room of grace called all my thoughts to her. my sister's eyes were now open. i shuddered, felt a sinking of the heart like that produced by despair, as i caught their unearthly or rather their supernatural expression. it was not that anything which indicated death in its more shocking aspects met my look, but simply that i could trace the illumination of a spirit that already felt itself on the eve of a new state of being, and one that must at least separate all that remained behind from any further communication with itself. i am not certain that i felt no pang at the thought my sister could be entirely happy without any participation on my part in her bliss. we are all so selfish that it is hard to say how far even our most innocent longings are free from the taint of this feature of our nature. but grace, herself, could not entirely shake off the ties of kindred and human love so long as her spirit continued in its earthly tenement. so far from this, every glance she cast on one or all of us denoted the fathomless tenderness of her nature, and was filled with its undying affection. she was weak, frightfully so i fancied; for death appeared to hasten in order to release her as swiftly and easily as possible; yet did her interest in me and in lucy sustain her sufficiently to enable her to impart much that she wished to say. in obedience to a sign from her, i knelt at her side, and received her head on my bosom, as near as possible in that attitude in which we had already passed hours since her illness. mr. hardinge hovered over us, like a ministering spirit, uttering in a suppressed and yet distinct voice, some of the sublimest of those passages from scripture that are the most replete with consolation to the parting spirit. as for lucy, to me she seemed to be precisely in that spot where she was most wanted; and often did grace's eyes turn towards her with gleamings of gratitude and love. "the hour is near, brother," grace whispered, as she lay on my bosom. "remember, i die asking forgiveness as much for those who may have done me wrong, as for myself. forget nothing that you have promised me; _do_ nothing to cause lucy and her father sorrow." "i understand you, sister"--was my low answer. "depend on all i have _said_--all you can _wish_." a gentle pressure of the hand was the token of contentment with which this assurance was received. from that moment it seemed to me that grace was less than usual attached to the things of the world. nevertheless, her interest in those she loved, and who loved her, continued to the last. "let all the slaves that wish to see me, enter," grace said, rousing herself to perform a trying but necessary duty. "i never can repay them for all they have done for me; but i trust them to you, miles, with confidence." lucy glided from the room, and in a few minutes the long train of dark faces was seen approaching the door. the grief of these untutored beings, like their mirth, is usually loud and vociferous; but lucy, dear, considerate, energetic lucy--energetic even in the midst of a sorrow that nearly crushed her to the earth--had foreseen all this, and the blacks were admitted only on the condition of their preserving a command over themselves in the interview. grace spoke to every one of the females, taking leave of each calmly and with some useful and impressive admonition, while all the older men were also noticed personally. "go, and rejoice that i am so soon released from the cares of this world," she said, when the sad ceremony was over. "pray for me, and for yourselves. my brother knows my wishes in your behalf, and will see them executed. god bless you, my friends, and have you in his holy keeping." so great was the ascendency lucy had obtained over these poor simple creatures during the short time they had been under her mild but consistent rule, that each and all left the room as quiet as children, awe-struck by the solemnity of the scene. still, the oldest and most wrinkled of their cheeks were wet with tears, and it was only by the most extraordinary efforts that they were enabled to repress the customary outbreakings of sorrow. i had gone to a window to conceal my own feelings after this leave-taking, when a rustling in the bushes beneath it caught my ear. looking out, there lay neb, flat on his face, his herculean frame extended at full length, his hands actually gripping the earth under the mental agony he endured, and yet the faithful fellow would not even utter a groan, lest it might reach his young mistress's ears, and disquiet her last moments. i afterwards ascertained he had taken that post in order that he might learn from time to time, by means of signs from chloe, how things proceeded in the chamber above. lucy soon recalled me to my old post, grace having expressed a wish to that effect. "it will be but an hour, and we shall all be together again," grace said, startling us all by the clearness and distinctness of her enunciation. "the near approach of death places us on a height whence we can see the entire world and its vanities at a single view." i pressed the dying girl closer to my heart, a species of involuntary declaration of the difficulty i experienced in regarding her loss with the religious philosophy she was inculcating. "mourn not for me, miles"--she continued--"yet i know you will mourn. but god will temper the blow, and in his mercy may cause it to profit you for ever." i did not, could not answer. i saw grace endeavouring to get a look at my countenance, as if to observe the effect of the scene. by my assistance she was so placed as to obtain her wish. the sight, i believe, aroused feelings that had begun to yield to the influence of the last great change; for, when my sister spoke next, it was with a tenderness of accent that proved how hard it for those who are deeply affectionate to lose their instincts. "poor miles! i almost wish we could go together! you have been a dear, good brother to me"--(what a sweet consolation i afterwards found in these words)--"it grieves me to leave you so nearly alone in the world. but you will have mr. hardinge, and our lucy--" the pause, and the look that succeeded, caused a slight tremour to pass over my frame. grace's eyes turned anxiously from me to the form of the kneeling and weeping lucy. i fancied that she was about to express a wish, or some regret, in connection with us two, that even at such a moment i could not have heard without betraying the concern it would give me. she did not speak, however, though her look was too eloquent to be mistaken. i ascribed the forbearance to the conviction that it would be too late, lucy's affections belonging to andrew drewett. at that instant i had a bitter remembrance of neb's words of "i sometime wish, masser mile, you and i nebber had see salt water." but that was not the moment to permit such feelings to get the mastery; and grace, herself, felt too clearly that her minutes were numbered to allow her mind to dwell on the subject. "an almighty providence will direct everything for the best, in this as in other things," she murmured; though it was still some little time, i thought, before her mind reverted to her own situation. the welfare of two as much beloved as lucy and myself, could not be a matter of indifference to one of grace's disposition, even in the hour of death. mr. hardinge now knelt, and the next quarter of an hour passed in prayer. when the divine rose from his knees, grace, her countenance beaming with an angelic serenity, gave him her hand, and in a clear, distinct voice, she uttered a prayer for blessings, connecting her petitions with the gratitude due him, for his care of us orphans. i never saw the old man so much touched before. this unexpected benediction, for it had that character, coming from youth to age, quite unmanned him. the old man sunk into a chair, weeping uncontrollably. this aroused lucy, who regarded the grey hairs of her father with awe, as she witnessed the strength of his emotions. but feelings of this nature could not long absorb a man like mr. hardinge, who soon regained as much of the appearance of composure as it was possible to maintain by such a death-bed. "many may think me young to die," grace observed; "but i am weary of the world. it is my wish to submit myself to the will of god; but, blessed be his holy name, that he sees fit to call me to him this day. lucy, beloved one--go into the next room, and draw the curtain asunder; i shall then be enabled to gaze on the fields of dear clawbonny once more; that will be my last look at the outer world." this leave-taking of inanimate things, objects long known and loved, is of frequent occurrence with the dying. it is not in our natures to quit for ever this beautiful world, without casting "one longing, lingering look behind." the hand of its divine creator was gloriously impressed on the rural loveliness of my native fields that day, and a holy tranquillity seemed to reign over the grain, the orchards, the meadows, and the wooded heights. the couch of grace was purposely placed at a point in her own chamber that commanded a wide view of the farm, through the vista formed by the door and windows of the adjoining room. here she had often sat, during her confinement to her rooms, contemplating scenes so familiar and so much loved. i saw her lips quiver as she now gazed on them for the last time, and was convinced some unusual sentiment, connected with the past, pressed on her feelings at that instant. i could see the same view myself, and perceived that her eyes were riveted on the little wood where rupert and i had met the girls on our return from sea; a favourite place of resort, and one that, i doubted not, had often been the witness of the early confidence between grace and her recreant lover. death was actually hovering over that sainted being at the moment; but her woman's heart was not, _could_ not, be insensible to the impressions produced by such a sight. in vain the warm light from the heavens bathed the whole landscape in a flood of glory; in vain the meadows put forth their flowers, the woods their variegated, bright, american verdure, and the birds their innocent gaiety and brilliant plumage; the fancy of grace was portraying scenes that had once been connected with the engrossing sentiment of her life. i felt her tremble, as she lay in my arms; and bending my head towards her in tender concern, i could just distinguish the murmuring of a prayer that it was easy to understand was a petition offered up in behalf of rupert. this done, she asked, herself, to have the curtain drawn again, to shut out the obtrusive thought for ever. i have often thought, since the events of that sad day that grace's dissolution was hastened by this accidental recurrence of her mind to rupert and his forgotten love. i call it love, though i question if a being so thoroughly selfish ever truly loved any one but himself; perhaps not himself, indeed, in a way to entitle the feeling to so respectable an epithet. grace certainly drooped the faster from that unfortunate moment. it is true, we all expected her death, thought it would occur that day even, though surprised at the suddenness with which it came at last; but we did not expect it within an hour. and what an hour was that which succeeded! both mr. hardinge and lucy passed quite half of it on their knees, engaged in silent prayer; for it was thought petitions uttered aloud might disturb the sick. there were minutes in which the stillness of the tomb already reigned among us. i am not enough of a physician to say whether the change that now came over my sister's mind was the consequence of any shock received in that long, intense look at the wood, or whether it proceeded from the sinking of the system, and was connected with that mysterious link which binds the immortal part of our being so closely to the material, until the tie is loosened forever. it is certain, however, that grace's thoughts wandered; and, while they never lost entirely their leaning towards faith and a bright christian hope, they became tinctured with something allied to childish simplicity, if not absolutely to mental weakness. nevertheless, there was a moral beauty about grace, that no failing of the faculties could ever totally eradicate. it was fully half an hour that the breathing quiet of prayer lasted. in all that time my sister scarcely stirred, her own hands being clasped together, and her eyes occasionally lifted to heaven. at length she seemed to revive a little, and to observe external objects. in the end, she spoke. "lucy, dearest," she said, "what has become of rupert? does he know i am dying? if so, why does he not come and see me, for the last time?" it is scarcely necessary for me to say how much lucy and myself were startled at this question. the former buried her face in her hands without making any reply; but good mr. hardinge, altogether unconscious of anything's being wrong, was eager to exculpate his son. "rupert has been sent for, my dear child," he said, "and, though he is engrossed with love and miss merton, he will not fail to hasten hither the instant he receives my letter." "miss merton!" repeated grace, pressing both her hands on her temples--"who is she? i do not remember anybody of that name?" we now understood that the mind of the dear patient was losing its powers; of course no efforts were made to give a truer direction to her thoughts. we could only listen, and weep. presently, grace passed an arm round the neck of lucy, and drew her towards her, with a childish earnestness. "lucy, love," she continued--"we will persuade these foolish boys from this notion of going to sea. what if miles's father, and rupert's great-grand-father _were_ sailors; it is no reason _they_ should be sailors too!" she paused, appeared to meditate, and turned towards me. her head was still inclining on my bosom, and she gazed upwards at my face, as fondly as she did in that tender meeting we held just after my return home, in the family room. there was sufficient strength to enable her to raise her pallid but not emaciated hand to my face, even while she passed it over my cheeks, once more parting the curls on my temples, and playing with my hair, with infantile fondness. "miles," the dear angel whispered, utterance beginning to fail her--"do you remember what mother told us about always speaking the truth? you are a manly boy, brother, and have too much pride to say anything but the truth; i wish rupert were as frank." this was the first, the last, the only intimation i had ever heard from grace, of her being conscious of any defect in rupert's character. would to god she had seen this important deficiency earlier! though this is wishing a child to possess the discernment and intelligence of a woman. the hand was still on my cheek, and i would not have had it removed at that bitter moment to have been well assured of lucy's love. "see," my sister resumed, though she now spoke merely in a whisper--"how brown his cheek is, though his forehead is white. i doubt if mother would know him, lucy. is rupert's cheek as brown as this, dear?" "rupert has not been as much exposed of late as miles," lucy answered huskily, grace's arm still clinging to her neck. the well-known voice appeared to awaken a new train of thought. "lucy," my sister asked, "are you as fond of miles as we both used to be, when children?" "i have always had, and shall ever retain, a deep affection for miles wallingford," lucy answered, steadily. grace now turned towards me, releasing her hold of lucy's neck, from pure inability to sustain it; and she fastened her serene blue eyes on my countenance, whence they never deviated while she breathed. my tears were uncontrollable, and they seemed to perplex rather that distress her. of a sudden, we heard her voice aloud, speaking gently, but with a fervour that rendered it distinct. the words she uttered were full of the undying affection of a heart that never turned away from me for a single instant; no, not even in the petulance of childhood. "almighty father," she said, "look down from thy mercy-seat on this dear brother--keep him for thyself; and, in thy good time, call him, through the saviour's love, to thy mansions of bliss." these were the last words that grace wallingford ever spoke. she lived ten minutes longer; and she died on my bosom like the infant that breathes its last in the arms of its mother. her lips moved several times; once i fancied i caught the name of "lucy," though i have reason to think she prayed for us all, rupert included, down to the moment she ceased to exist. chapter viii. "there have been sweet singing voices in your walks that now are still; there are seats left void, in your earthly homes, which none again may fill." mrs. hemans. i never saw the body of my sister, after i handed it, resembling a sleeping infant, to the arms of lucy. there is a sort of mania in some, a morbid curiosity, to gaze on the features of the dead; but, with me, it has ever been the reverse. i had been taken to the family room to contemplate and weep over the faces of both my parents, but this was at an age when it became me to be passive. i was now at a time of life when i might be permitted to judge for myself; and, as soon as i began to think at all on the subject, which was not for some hours, however, i resolved that the last look of love, the sweet countenance, sinking in death it is true, but still animate and beaming with the sentiments of her pure heart, should be the abiding impression of my sister's form. i have cherished it ever since, and often have i rejoiced that i did not permit any subsequent images of a corpse to supplant it. as respects both my parents, the images left on my mind, for years and years, was painful rather than pleasing. grace's body was no sooner out of my arms, i had scarcely imprinted the last long kiss on the ivory-like but still warm forehead, than i left the house. clawbonny had no impertinent eyes to drive a mourner to his closet, and i felt as if it were impossible to breathe unless i could obtain the freedom of the open air. as i crossed the little lawn, the wails from the kitchens reached me. now that the invalid could no longer be disturbed by their lamentations, the unsophisticated negroes gave vent to their feelings without reserve. i heard their outcries long after every other sound from the house was lost on my ear. i held my way along the road, with no other view but to escape from the scene i had just quitted, and entered the very little wood which might be said to have been the last object of the external world that had attracted my sister's attention. here everything reminded me of the past; of the days of childhood and youth; of the manner in which the four clawbonny children had lived together, and roamed these very thickets, in confidence and love. i sat in that wood an hour; a strange, unearthly hour it seemed to me! i saw grace's angel countenance imprinted on the leaves, heard her low but gay laugh, as she was wont to let it be heard in the hours of happiness, and the tones of her gentle voice sounded in my ears almost as familiarly as in life. rupert and lucy were there too. i saw them, heard them, and tried to enter into their innocent merriment, as i had done of old; but fearful glimpses of the sad truth would interpose, in time to break the charm. when i left that little wood, it was to seek a larger cover, and fields farther removed from the house. it was dark before i thought of returning; all that time was passed in a species of mystical hallucination, in which the mind was lost in scenes foreign to those actually present. i saw grace's sweet image everywhere; i heard her voice at every turn. now she was the infant i was permitted to drag in her little wagon, the earliest of all my impressions of that beloved sister; then, she was following me as i trundled my hoop; next came her little lessons in morals, and warnings against doing wrong, or some grave but gentle reproof for errors actually committed; after which, i saw her in the pride of young womanhood, lovely and fitted to be loved, the sharer of my confidence, and one capable of entering into all my plans of life. how often that day did the murmuring of a brook or the humming of a bee become blended in my imagination with the song, the laugh, the call, or the prayers of that beloved sister whose spirit had ascended to heaven, and who was no more to mingle in my concerns or those of life! at one time i had determined to pass the night abroad, and commune with the stars, each of which i fancied, in turn, as they began slowly to show themselves in the vault above, might be the abiding-place of the departed spirit. if i thought so much and so intensely of grace, i thought also of lucy. nor was good mr. hardinge entirely forgotten. i felt for their uneasiness, and saw it was my duty to return. neb, and two or three others of the blacks, had been looking for me in all directions but that in which i was; and i felt a melancholy pleasure as i occasionally saw these simple-minded creatures meet and converse. their gestures, their earnestness, their tears, for i could see that they were often weeping, indicated alike that they were speaking of their "young mistress;" _how_ they spoke, i wanted no other communications to understand. ours had ever been a family of love. my father, manly, affectionate, and strongly attached to my mother, was admirably suited to sustain that dominion of the heart which the last had established from her earliest days at clawbonny. this power of the feelings had insensibly extended itself to the slaves, who seldom failed to manifest how keenly alive they all were to the interests and happiness of their owners. among the negroes there was but one who was considered as fallen below his proper level, or who was regarded as an outcast. this was an old fellow who bore the name of vulcan, and who worked as a blacksmith on the skirts of the farm, having been named by my grandfather with the express intention of placing him at the anvil. this fellow's trade caused him to pass most of his youth in an adjacent village, or hamlet, where unfortunately he had acquired habits that unsuited him to live as those around him were accustomed to live. he became in a measure alienated from us, drinking, and otherwise living a life that brought great scandal on his sable connections, who were gathered more closely around the homestead. nevertheless, a death, or a return home, or any important event in the family, was sure to bring even vulcan back to his allegiance; and, for a month afterwards, he would be a reformed man. on this occasion he was one of those who were out in the fields and woods in quest of me, and he happened to be the very individual by whom i was discovered. the awe-struck, solemn manner in which the reckless vulcan approached, were all other proofs wanting, would have proclaimed the weight of the blow that had fallen on clawbonny. the eyes of this fellow were always red, but it was easy to see that even he had been shedding tears. he knew he was no favourite; seldom came near me, unless it were to excuse some of his neglects or faults, and lived under a sort of ban for his constantly recurring misdeeds. nevertheless, a common cause of grief now gave him confidence, and neb himself could hardly have approached me with a manner of more easy but respectful familiarity. "ah! masser mile! masser mile!" vulcan exclaimed, certain that we felt alike on this topic, if on no other; "poor young missus! when we ebber get 'noder like _she!_" "my sister is in heaven, vulcan, where i hope all at clawbonny, blacks as well as whites, will endeavour to meet her, by living in a manner that will improve the mercy of god." "you t'ink dat _posserbul,_ masser mile?" demanded the old man, fixing his dull eyes on me, with an earnest intentness that proved he had not entirely lost all sensibility to his moral condition. "all things are possible with god, vulcan. keeping him and his commandments constantly in mind, you may still hope to see your young mistress, and to share in her happiness." "wonnerful!" exclaimed the old man; "dat would be a great conserlation. ah! masser mile, how often she come when a little lady to my shop door, and ask to see 'e spark fly! miss grace hab a great taste for blacksmit'in', and a great knowledge too. i do t'ink, dat next to some oder t'ing, she lub to see iron red-hot, and 'e horse shod!" "you have come to look for me, vulcan, and i thank you for this care. i shall return to the house presently; you need give yourself no further trouble. remember, old man, that the only hope that remains of either of us ever seeing miss grace again, is in living as mr. hardinge so often tells us all we ought to live." "wonnerful!" repeated old vulcan, whose mind and feelings were in a happy condition to receive such a lesson. "yes, _sah_, masser mile; she come to my shop to see 'e spark fly;--i shall miss her like a darter." this was a specimen of the feelings that prevailed among the negroes, though the impression on most of the others was more lasting than that made on the blacksmith, whom i now dismissed, taking the path myself that led to the house. it was quite dark when i crossed the lawn. a figure was just visible in the shadows of the piazza, and i was on the point of turning in the direction of a side door, in order to avoid the meeting, when lucy advanced eagerly to the edge of the steps to receive me. "oh! miles--_dear_ miles, how happy i am to see you again," the precious girl said, taking my hand with the warmth and frankness of a sister. "my father and myself have been very uneasy about you; my father, indeed, has walked towards the rectory, thinking you may have gone thither." "i have been with you, and grace, and your father, my good lucy, ever since we parted. i am more myself now, however, and you need feel no further concern on my account. i thank you from the bottom of my heart for that which you have already felt, and will give you no further concern." the manner in which lucy now burst into tears betrayed the intensity of the feelings that had been pent up in her bosom, and the relief she found in my assurances. she did not scruple, even, about leaning on my shoulder, so long as the paroxysm lasted. as soon as able to command herself, however, she wiped her eyes, again took my hand with confiding affection, looked anxiously towards me as she said, soothingly-- "we have met with a great loss, miles; one that even time cannot repair. neither of us can ever find another to fill the place that grace has occupied. our lives cannot be lived over again; we cannot return to childhood; feel as children; love as children; live as children; and grow up together, as it might be, with one heart, with the same views, the same wishes, the same opinions; i hope it is not presuming on too great a resemblance to the departed angel, if i add, the same principles." "no, lucy; the past, for us, is gone for ever. clawbonny will never again be the clawbonny it was." there was a pause, during which i fancied lucy was struggling to repress some fresh burst of emotion. "yet, miles," she presently resumed, "we could not ask to have her recalled from that bliss which we have so much reason to believe she is even now enjoying. in a short time grace will be to you and me a lovely and grateful image of goodness, and virtue, and affection; and we shall have a saddened, perhaps, but a deep-felt pleasure in remembering how much we enjoyed of her affection, and how closely she was united to us both in life." "that will be indeed a link between us two, lucy, that i trust may withstand _all_ the changes and withering selfishness of the world!" "i hope it may, miles," lucy answered, in a low voice; and, as i fancied at the moment, with an embarrassment that i did not fail to attribute to the consciousness she felt of andrew drewett's claims on all such intimate association of feeling. "we, who have known each other from children, can scarcely want causes for continuing to esteem and to regard each other with affection." lucy now appeared to think she might trust me to myself, and she led the way into the house. i did not see her again until mr. hardinge caused the whole household to be assembled at evening prayers. the meeting of the family that night was solemn and mournful. for myself, i fancied that the spirit of grace was hovering around us; more than once did i fancy that i heard her sweet, voice mingling in the petitions, or leading the service, as was her practice on those occasions when our good guardian could not attend. i observed all the negroes looking at me with solicitude, like those who recognised my right to feel the blow the deepest, it was a touching evidence of respectful interest that each man bowed to me reverently, and each woman curtsied, as he or she left the room. as for chloe, sobs nearly choked her; the poor girl having refused to quit the body of her mistress except for that short moment. i thought lucy would have remained with her father and myself for a few minutes, but for the necessity of removing this poor heart-stricken creature, who really felt as if the death of her young mistress was a toss of part of her own existence. i have already dwelt on the circumstances attending the death of grace longer than i intended, and shall now cease to harass my own feelings, or to distress those of my readers by unnecessarily enlarging on more of the details. the next three or four days produced the usual calm; and though it was literally years ere lucy or myself ceased altogether to weep for her loss, we both obtained the self-command that was necessary for the discharge of our ordinary duties. grace, it will be remembered, died of a sunday, about the usual hour for dinner. agreeably to the custom of the country, in which there is usually a little too much of an indecent haste in disposing of the dead, owing in some degree to climate, however, the funeral would have taken place on wednesday, and that would have been delaying twenty-four hours longer than might have been granted in most cases; but mr. hardinge, who gave all the directions, had named thursday noon as the hour for the interment. we had few relatives to expect; most of those who would have been likely to attend, had circumstances admitted of it, living in distant places that rendered it inconvenient, and indeed scarcely possible. i passed most of the intervening time in my study, reading and indulging in such contemplations as naturally suggest themselves to the mourner. lucy, dear girl, had written me two or three short notes, asking my wishes on various points; among other things, when i wished to pay a last visit to the body. my answer to this question brought her to my room, with some little surprise of manner; for she had been so much with grace, living and dead, as to think it strange one who had loved her so well while living should not desire to take a final look at the beautiful remains. i explained my feelings on this head, and lucy seemed struck with them. "i am not sure you will not have decided wisely, miles," she said--"the picture being one too precious to destroy. you will be gratified in knowing, however, that grace resembles an angel quite as much in death as she did in life; all who have seen her being struck with the air of peaceful tranquillity her features now present." "bless you--bless you, lucy--this is all-sufficient. i did wish for some such assurance, and am now content." "several of your family are in the house, miles, in readiness to attend the funeral; a stranger has just arrived who seems to have some such desire, too, though his face is unknown to all at the place. he has asked to see you with an earnestness that my father scarce knows how to refuse." "let him come here, then, lucy. i can only suppose it to be some one of the many persons grace has served; her short life was all activity in that particular." lucy's face did not corroborate that notion; but she withdrew to let my decision be known. in a few minutes a large, hard-featured, but not ill-looking man approaching fifty, entered my room, walked up to me with tears in his eyes, squeezed my hand warmly, and then seated himself without ceremony. he was attired like a thriving countryman, though his language, accent, and manner denoted one superior to the ordinary run of those with whom he was otherwise associated in externals. i had to look at him a second time ere i could recognise jack wallingford, my father's bachelor cousin, the western land-holder. "i see by your look, cousin miles, that you only half, remember me," my visitor remarked; "i deeply regret that i am obliged to renew our acquaintance on so melancholy an occasion." "there are so few of, us left, mr. wallingford, that this kindness will be doubly appreciated," i answered. "if i did not give orders to have you apprised of the loss we have all sustained, it is because your residence is so far from clawbonny as to render it improbable you could have received the intelligence in time to attend the solemn ceremony that remains to be performed. i did intend to write to you, when a little better fitted to perform such a duty." "i thank you, cousin. the blood and name of wallingford are very near and dear to me, and clawbonny has always seemed a sort of home." "the dear creature who now lies dead under its roof, cousin john, so considered you; and you may be pleased to know that she wished me to leave you this property in my will the last time i went to sea, as of the direct line, a wallingford being the proper owner of clawbonny. in that particular, she preferred your claims to her own." "ay, this agrees with all i ever heard of the angel," answered john wallingford, dashing a tear from his eyes, a circumstance that gave one a favourable opinion of his heart. "of course you refused, and left the property to herself, who had a better right to it." "i did sir; though she threatened to transfer it to you, the moment it became her's." "a threat she would have found it difficult to execute, as i certainly would have refused to receive it. we are half savages, no doubt, out west of the bridge; but our lands are beginning to tell in the markets, and we count already some rich men among us." this was said with a self-satisfied manner, that my cousin was a little too apt to assume when property became the subject of conversation. i had occasion several times that day, even, to remark that he attached a high value to money; though, at the same time, it struck me that most of his notions were just and honourable. he quite worked his way into my favour, however, by the respect he manifested for clawbonny, and all that belonged to it. so deep was this veneration, that i began to think of the necessity of making a new will, in order to bequeath him the place in the event of my dying without heirs, as i now imagined must sooner or later occur. as lucy was not likely to be my wife, no one else, i fancied, ever should be. i had nearer relations than jack wallingford, some of whom were then in the house; cousins-german by both father and mother; but they were not of the direct line; and i knew that miles the first would have made this disposition of the place, could he have foreseen events, and had the law allowed it. then grace had wished such an arrangement, and i had a sad happiness in executing all the known wishes of my sister. the funeral did not occur until the day after the arrival of john wallingford, who accidentally heard of the death that had occurred in the family, and came uninvited to attend the obsequies, as has been mentioned. i passed most of the evening in the company of this relative, with whom i became so much pleased as to request he would walk with me next day as second nearest of kin. this arrangement, as i had reason to know in the end, gave great offence to several who stood one degree nearer in blood to the deceased, though not of her name. thus are we constituted!--we will quarrel over a grave even, a moment that should lay open eternity to our view, with all its immense consequences and accompaniments, in order to vindicate feelings and passions that can only interest us, as it might be, for a day. fortunately i knew nothing of the offence that was taken at the time, nor did i see any of my kinsmen but john wallingford that evening; his presence in my room being owing altogether to a certain self-possession and an _à plomb_ that caused him to do very much as he pleased in such matters. i rose on the following morning at a late hour, and with a heaviness at the heart that was natural to the occasion. it was a lovely summer's day; but all in and around clawbonny wore the air of a sunday. the procession was to form at ten o'clock; and, as i cast my eyes from my window, i could see the negroes moving about on the lawns, and in the lanes, attired in their best, but wearing no holiday faces. it seemed to me to be a species of unnatural sabbath, possessing all its solemnity, its holy stillness, its breathing calm, but wanting in that solacing spirit of peace which is so apt to be imparted to the day of rest in the country, most particularly at that season of the year. several of the neighbours, who did not belong to clawbonny, were beginning to appear; and i felt the necessity of dressing in order to be in readiness for what was to follow. i had eaten alone in my little study or library from the time my sister died, and had seen no one since my return to the house, the servants excepted, besides my guardian, lucy, and john wallingford. the last had taken a light supper with me the previous night; but he was then breakfasting with the rest of the guests in the family eating-room, mr. hardinge doing the honours of the house. as for myself, i found my own little table prepared with its coffee and light meal, as i had ordered before retiring. it had _two_ cups, however, and a second plate had been laid in addition to my own. i pointed to this arrangement, and demanded of the old white-headed house-servant, who was in-waiting, what it meant. "miss lucy, sah--she say she mean to breakfast wid masser mile, dis mornin', sah." even the accents of this negro were solemn and sad as he made this familiar explanation, like those of a man who was conscious of having reached an hour and an occasion that called for peculiar awe. i bade him let miss lucy know that i was in the study. "ah, masser mile," added the old man, with tears in his eyes as he left the room, "miss lucy 'e only young missus now, sah!" in a few minutes lucy joined me. she was in deep black of course, and that may have added to the appearance of paleness; but no one could be deceived in the manner in which the dear girl had mourned and wept since we parted. the subdued expression of her face gave it a peculiar sweetness; and, in spite of the absence of colour, i thought, as lucy advanced towards me, both hands extended, and a smile of anxious inquiry on her lips, that she had never appeared more lovely. i did not hesitate about pressing those hands with fervour, and of kissing the warm though colourless cheek. all this passed as it might have done between an affectionate brother and sister, neither of us thinking, i am persuaded, of aught but the confidence and friendship of childhood. "this is kind of you, dear lucy," i said, as we took our seats at the little table; "my cousin john wallingford, though a good man in the main, is scarcely near enough, or _dear_ enough, to be admitted at a time like this." "i have seen him," lucy replied--the tremour in her voice showing how hard she found it to avoid melting in tears, "and rather like him. i believe he was a favourite with mamma wallingford," so lucy was accustomed to call my mother, "and that ought to be a high recommendation with us, miles." "i am disposed to like him, and shall endeavour to keep up more intercourse with him than i have hitherto done. it is as we begin to find ourselves alone in the world, lucy, that we first feel the necessity of counting blood and kin, and of looking around us for support." "alone you are not, miles, and never can be while i and my dear father live. we are certainly nearer to you than any that now remain among your blood relatives! you can neither suffer nor be happy without our partaking in the feelings." this was not said without an effort; that much i could detect; yet it was said firmly, and in a way that left no doubt of its entire sincerity. i even wished there had been less of nature and more of hesitation in the dear girl's manner while she was endeavouring to assure me of the sympathy she felt in my happiness or unhappiness. but the waywardness of a passion as tormenting, and yet as delightful as love, seldom leaves us just or reasonable. lucy and i then talked of the approaching ceremony. each of us was grave and sorrowful, but neither indulged in any outward signs of grief. we knew the last sad offices were to be performed, and had braced ourselves to the discharge of this melancholy duty. it was not customary with the females of purely new york families of the class of the hardinges, to be present at the performance of the funeral rites; but lucy told me she intended to be in the little church, and to share in as much of the religious offices as were performed within the building. in a population as mixed as ours has become, it is not easy to say what is and what is not now a national or state usage, on such an occasion; but i knew this was going farther than was usual for one of lucy's habits and opinions, and i expressed a little surprise at her determination. "were it at any other funeral, i would not be present, miles," she said, the tremour of her voice sensibly increasing; "but i cannot divest myself of the idea that the spirit of grace will be hovering near; that the presence of her more than sister will be acceptable. whatever the providence of god may have ordered for the dear departed, i know it will be grateful to myself to join in the prayers of the church--besides, i am not altogether without the womanly feeling of wishing to watch over the form of grace while it remains above ground. and now, miles, brother, friend, _grace's_ brother, or by whatever endearing term i may address you," added lucy, rising, coming to my side of the table, and taking my hand. "i have one thing to say that i alone can say, for it would never suggest itself as necessary to my dear father." i looked earnestly at lucy's sweet countenance, and saw it was full of concern--i had almost said of alarm. "i believe i understand you, lucy," i answered, though a sensation at the throat nearly choked me--"rupert is here?" "he is, miles; i implore you to remember what would be the wishes of her who is now a saint in heaven--what her entreaties, her tears would implore of you, had not god placed a barrier between us." "i understand you, lucy"--was the husky reply--"i do remember all you wish, though that recollection is unnecessary. i would rather not see him; but never can! forget that he is your brother!" "you will see as little of him as possible, miles--bless you, bless you, for this forbearance!" i felt lucy's hasty but warm kiss on my forehead as she quitted the room. it seemed to me a seal of a compact between us that was far too sacred ever to allow me to dream of violating it. i pass over the details of the funeral procession. this last was ordered as is usual in the country, the friends following the body in vehicles or on horseback, according to circumstances. john wallingford went with me agreeably to my own arrangement, and the rest took their places in the order of consanguinity and age. i did not see rupert in the procession at all, though i saw little beside the hearse that bore the body of my only sister. when we reached the church-yard, the blacks of the family pressed forward to bear the coffin into the building. mr. hardinge met us there, and then commenced those beautiful and solemn rites which seldom fail to touch the hardest heart. the rector of st. michael's had the great excellence of reading all the offices of the church as if he felt them; and, on this occasion, the deepest feelings of the heart seemed to be thrown into his accents. i wondered how he could get on; but mr. hardinge felt himself a servant of the altar, standing in his master's house, and ready to submit to his will. under such circumstances it was not a trifle that could unman him. the spirit of the divine communicated itself to me. i did not shed a tear during the whole of the ceremony, but felt myself sustained by the thoughts and holy hopes that ceremony was adapted to inspire. i believe lucy, who sat in a far corner of the church, was sustained in a similar manner; for i heard her low sweet voice mingling in the responses. lip service! let those who would substitute their own crude impulses for the sublime rites of our liturgy, making ill digested forms the supplanter of a ritual carefully and devoutly prepared, listen to one of their own semi-conversational addresses to the almighty over a grave, and then hearken to these venerable rites, and learn humility. such men never approach sublimity, or the sacred character that should be impressed on a funeral ceremony, except when they borrow a fragment here and there from the very ritual they affect to condemn. in their eagerness to dissent, they have been guilty of the weakness of dissenting, so far as forms are concerned, from some of the loftiest, most comprehensive, most consolatory and most instructive passages of the inspired book! it was a terrible moment when the first clod of the valley fell on my sister's coffin. god sustained me under the shock! i neither groaned nor wept. when mr. hardinge returned the customary thanks to those who had assembled to assist me "in burying my dead out of my sight," i had even sufficient fortitude to bow to the little crowd, and to walk steadily away. it is true, that john wallingford very kindly took my arm to sustain me, but i was not conscious of wanting any support. i heard the sobs of the blacks as they crowded around the grave, which the men among them insisted on filling with their own hands, as if "miss grace" could only rest with their administration to her wants; and i was told not one of them left the spot until the place had resumed all the appearance of freshness and verdure which it possessed before the spade had been applied. the same roses, removed with care, were restored to their former beds; and it would not have been easy for a stranger to discover that a new-made grave lay by the side of those of the late captain miles wallingford and his much-respected widow. still it was known to all in that vicinity, and many a pilgrimage was made to the spot within the next fortnight, the young maidens of the adjoining farms in particular coming to visit the grave of grace wallingford, the "lily of clawbonny," as she had once been styled. chapter ix. "i knew that we must part--no power could save thy quiet goodness from an early grave: those eyes so dull, though kind each glance they cast, looking a sister's fondness to the last; thy lips so pale, that gently press'd my cheek; thy voice--alas! thou could'st but try to speak;-- all told thy doom; i felt it at my heart; the shaft had struck--i knew that we must part." sprague. it is not easy to describe the sensation of loss that came over me after the interment of my sister. it is then we completely feel the privation with which we have met. the body is removed from out of our sight; the places that knew them shall know them no more; there is an end to all communion, even by the agency of sight, the last of the senses to lose its hold on the departed, and a void exists in the place once occupied. i felt all this very keenly, for more than a month, but most keenly during the short time i remained at clawbonny. the task before me, however, will not allow me to dwell on these proofs of sorrow, nor do i know that the reader could derive much advantage from their exhibition. i did not see rupert at the funeral. that he was there i knew, but either he, himself, or lucy for him, had managed so well, as not to obtrude his person on my sight. john wallingford, who well knew my external or visible relation to all the hardinges, thinking to do me a pleasure, mentioned, as the little procession returned to the house, that young mr. hardinge had, by dint of great activity, succeeded in reaching clawbonny in time for the funeral. i fancy that lucy, under the pretence of wishing his escort, contrived to keep her brother at the rectory during the time i was abroad. on reaching the house, i saw all my connexions, and thanked them in person for this proof of their respect for the deceased. this little duty performed, all but john wallingford took their leave, and i was soon left in the place alone with my bachelor cousin. what a house it was! and what a house it continued to be as long as i remained at clawbonny! the servants moved about it stealthily; the merry laugh was no longer heard in the kitchen; even the heavy-footed seemed to tread on air, and all around me appeared to be afraid of disturbing the slumbers of the dead. never before, nor since, have i had occasion to feel how completely a negative may assume an affirmative character, and become as positive as if it had a real existence. i thought i could _see_ as well as feel my sister's absence from the scene in which she had once been so conspicuous an actor. as none of the hardinges returned to dinner, the good divine writing a note to say he would see me in the evening after my connexions had withdrawn, john wallingford and myself took that meal _tête à tête_. my cousin, with the apparent motive of diverting my thoughts from dwelling on the recent scene, began to converse on subjects that he was right in supposing might interest me. instead of flying off to some topic so foreign to my feelings as constantly to recall the reason, he judiciously connected the theme with my loss. "i suppose you will go to sea again, as soon as your ship can be got ready, cousin miles," he commenced, after we were left with the fruit and wine. "these are stirring times in commerce, and the idle man misses golden opportunities." "gold has no longer any charm for me, cousin john," i answered gloomily. "i am richer now than is necessary for my wants, and, as i shall probably never marry, i see no great use in toiling for more. still, i shall go out in my own ship, and that as soon as possible. _here_ i would not pass the summer for the place, and i love the sea. yes, yes; i must make a voyage to some part of europe without delay. it is the wisest thing i can do." "that is hearty, and like a man! there is none of your mopes about the wallingfords, and i believe you to be of the true stock. but why never marry, miles? your father was a sailor, and _he_ married, and a very good time i've always understood he had of it." "my father was happy as a husband, and, did i imitate his example, i should certainly marry, too. nevertheless, i feel i am to be a bachelor." "in that case, what will become of clawbonny?" demanded jack wallingford, bluntly. i could not avoid smiling at the question, as i deemed him my heir, though the law would give it to nearer relatives, who were not of the name; but it is probable that john, knowing himself to be so much my senior, had never thought of himself as one likely to outlive me. "i shall make a new will, the instant i get to town, and leave clawbonny to you," i answered steadily, and truly, for such a thought had come into my mind the instant i saw him. "you are the person best entitled to inherit it, and should you survive me, yours it shall be." "miles, i like that," exclaimed my cousin, with a strange sincerity, stretching out a hand to receive mine, which he pressed most warmly. "you are very right; i _ought_ to be the heir of this place, should you die without children, even though you left a widow," this was said so naturally, and was so much in conformity with my own notions on the subject, that it did not so much offend, as surprise me. i knew john wallingford loved money, and, all men having a very respectful attachment to the representative of value, such a character invariably means, that the party named suffers that attachment to carry him too far. i wished, therefore, my kinsman had not made just such a speech; though it in no manner shook my intentions in his favour. "you are more ready to advise your friends to get married, than to set the example," i answered, willing to divert the discourse a little. "you, who must be turned of fifty, are still a bachelor." "and so shall i remain through life. there was a time i might have married, had i been rich; and now i am reasonably rich, i find other things to employ my affections. still, that is no reason you should not leave me clawbonny, though it is not probable i shall ever live to inherit it. notwithstanding, it is family property, and ought not to go out of the name. i was afraid, if you were, lost at sea, or should die of any of those outlandish fevers that sailors sometimes take, the place would get into females, and there would no longer be a wallingford at clawbonny. miles, i do not grudge _you_ the possession of the property the least in the world; but it would make me very unhappy to know one of those hazens, or morgans, or van-der-schamps had it." jack had mentioned the names of the children of so many miss wallingfords, aunts or great-aunts, of mine, and cousins of his own.--"some of them may be nearer to you, by a half-degree, or so, but none of them are as near to clawbonny. it is wallingford land, and wallingford land it ought to remain." i was amused in spite of myself, and felt a disposition now, to push the discourse further, in order better to understand my kinsman's character. "should neither of us two marry," i said, "and both die bachelors, what would then be the fate of clawbonny?" "i have thought of all that, miles, and here is my answer: should such a thing happen, and there be no other wallingford left, then no wallingford would live to have his feelings hurt by knowing that a vander-dunder-schamp, or whatever these dutchmen ought to be called, is living in his father's house; and no harm would be done. but, there _are_ wallingfords besides you and me." "this is quite new; for i had supposed we two were the last." "not so: miles the first left two sons; our ancestor, the eldest, and one younger, who removed into the colony of new jersey, and whose descendants still exist. the survivors of us two might go there in quest of our heir, in the long run. but do not forget i come before these jersey blues, let them be who, or what they may." i assured my kinsman he _should_ come before them, and changed the discourse; for, to own the truth, the manner in which he spoke began to displease me. making my apologies, i retired to my own room, while john wallingford went out, professedly with the intention of riding over the place of his ancestors, with a view to give it a more critical exanimation than it had hitherto been in his power to do. it was quite dark, when i heard the arrival of the hardinges, as the carriage of lucy drove up to the door. in a few minutes mr. hardinge entered the study. he first inquired after my health, and manifested the kind interest he had ever taken in my feelings; after which, he proceeded: "rupert is here," he said, "and i have brought him over to see you. both he and lucy appeared to think it might be well not to disturb you to-night; but i knew you better. who should be at your side at this bitter moment, my dear miles, if it be not rupert, your old friend and play-mate; your fellow truant, as one might say, and almost your brother?" almost my brother! still i commanded myself. grace had received my solemn assurances, and so had lucy, and rupert had nothing to apprehend. i even asked to see him, desiring, at the same time, that it might be alone. i waited several minutes for rupert's appearance, in vain. at length the door of my room opened, and chloe brought me a note. it was from lucy, and contained only these words--"miles, for _her_ sake, for mine, command yourself." dear creature! she had no reason to be alarmed. the spirit of my sister seemed to me to be present; and i could recall every expression of her angel-countenance as it had passed before my eyes in the different interviews that preceded her death. at length rupert appeared. he had been detained by lucy until certain her note was received, when she permitted him to quit her side. his manner was full of the consciousness of undeserving, and its humility aided my good resolutions. had he advanced to take my hand; had he attempted consolation; had he, in short, behaved differently in the main from what he actually did, i cannot say what might have been the consequences. but his deportment, at first, was quiet, respectful, distant rather than familiar, and he had the tact, or grace, or caution, not to make the smallest allusion to the sad occasion which had brought him to clawbonny. when i asked him to be seated, he declined the chair i offered, a sign he intended the visit to be short. i was not sorry, and determined, at once, to make the interview as much one of business as possible. i had a sacred duty confided to me, and this might be as fit an occasion as could offer in which to acquit myself of the trust. "i am glad so early an opportunity has offered, mr. hardinge," i said, as soon as the opening civilities were over, "to acquaint you with an affair that has been entrusted to me by grace, and which i am anxious to dispose of as soon as possible." "by grace--by miss wallingford!" exclaimed rupert, actually recoiling a step in surprise, if not absolutely in alarm--"i shall feel honoured--that is, shall have a melancholy gratification in endeavouring to execute any of her wishes. no person commanded more of my respect, mr. wallingford, and i shall always consider her one of the most amiable and admirable women with whom it was ever my happy fortune to be acquainted." i had no difficulty now in commanding myself, for it was easy to see rupert scarce knew what he said. with such a man i saw no great necessity for using extraordinary delicacy or much reserve. "you are doubtless aware of two things in our family history," i continued, therefore, without circumlocution: "one that my sister would have been mistress of a small fortune, had she reached the term of twenty-one years, and the other that she died at twenty." rupert's surprise was now more natural, and i could see that his interest--shame on our propensities for it!--was very natural, too. "i am aware of both, and deeply deplore the last," he answered. "being a minor, she had it not in her power to make a will, but her requests are legal legacies in my eyes, and i stand pledged to her to see them executed. she has left rather less than $ , in all; with $ of this money i am to present lucy with some suitable memorial of her departed friend; some small charitable dispositions are also to be made, and the balance, or the round sum of $ , , is to be given to you." "to me, mr. wallingford!--miles!--did you really say to me?" "to you, mr. hardinge,--such is my sister's earnest request--and this letter will declare it, as from herself. i was to hand you this letter, when acquainting you with the bequest." i put grace's letter into rupert's hand, as i concluded, and i sat down to write, while he was reading it. though employed at a desk for a minute or two, i could not avoid glancing at rupert, in order to ascertain the effect of the last words of her he had once professed to love. i would wish not to be unjust even to rupert hardinge. he was dreadfully agitated, and he walked the room, for some little time, without speaking. i even fancied i overheard a half-suppressed groan. i had the compassion to affect to be engaged, in order to allow him to recover his self-possession. this was soon done, as good impressions were not lasting in rupert; and i knew him so well, as soon to read in his countenance, gleanings of satisfaction at the prospect of being master of so large a sum. at the proper moment, i arose and resumed the subject. "my sister's wishes would be sacred with me," i said, even had she not received my promise to see them executed. "when a thing of this character is to be done the sooner it is done the better. i have drawn a note at ten days, payable at the bank of new york, and in your favour, for $ , : it will not inconvenience me to pay it when due, and that will close the transaction." "i am not certain, wallingford, that i ought to receive so large a sum--i do not know that my father, or lucy or indeed the world, would altogether approve of it." "neither your father, nor lucy, nor the world will know anything about it, sir, unless you see fit to acquaint them i shall not speak of the bequest; and i confess that, on my sister's account, i should prefer that _you_ would not." "well, mr. hardinge," answered rupert, coolly putting the note into his wallet, "i will think of this request of poor grace's, and if i can possibly comply with her wishes, i will certainly do so. there is little that she could ask that i would deny, and my effort will be to honour her memory. as i see you are distressed, i will now retire; you shall know my determination in a few days." rupert did retire, taking my note for $ , with him. i made no effort to detain him, nor was i sorry to hear he had returned to the rectory to pass the night, whither his sister went with him. the next day he proceeded to new york, without sending me any message, retaining the note however; and, a day or two later, i heard of him on his way to the springs to rejoin the party of the mertons. john wallingford left me the morning of the day after the funeral, promising to see me again in town. "do no forget the will, miles," said that singular man, as he shook my hand, "and be certain to let me see that provision in it about clawbonny, before i go west of the bridge, again. between relations _of the same name_, there should be no reserves in such matters." i scarce knew whether to smile or to look grave, at so strange a request; but i did not change my determination on the subject of the will, itself: feeling that justice required of me such a disposition of the property. i confess there were moments when i distrusted the character of one who could urge a claim of this nature in so plain a manner; and that, too, at an instant when the contemplated contingency seemed the more probable from the circumstance that death had so recently been among us. notwithstanding, there was so much frankness in my kinsman's manner, he appeared to sympathize so sincerely in my loss, and his opinions were so similar to my own, that these unpleasant twinges lasted but for brief intervals. on the whole, my opinion was very favourable to john wallingford, and, as will be seen in the sequel, he soon obtained my entire confidence. after the departure of all my kindred, i felt, indeed, how completely i was left alone in the world. lucy passed the night at the rectory, to keep her brother company, and good mr. hardinge, though _thinking_ he remained with me to offer sympathy and consolation, found so many demands on his time, that i saw but little of him. it is possible he understood me sufficiently well to know that solitude and reflection, while the appearance of the first was avoided, were better for one of my temperament than any set forms of condolence. at any rate, he was at hand, while he said but little to me on the subject of my loss. at last i got through the day; and a long and dreary day it was to me. the evening came, bland, refreshing, bringing with it the softer light of a young moon. i was walking on the lawn, when the beauty of the night brought grace and her tastes vividly to my mind, and, by a sudden impulse, i was soon swiftly walking towards her now silent grave. the highways around clawbonny were never much frequented; but at this hour, and so soon after the solemn procession it had so lately seen, no one was met on the road towards the church-yard. it was months, indeed, after the funeral, that any of the slaves ventured into the latter by night; and, even during the day, they approached it with an awe that nothing could have inspired but the death of a wallingford. perhaps it was owing to my increased age and greater observation, but i fancied that these simple beings felt the death of their young mistress more than they had felt that of my mother. st. michael's church-yard is beautifully ornamented with flourishing cedars. these trees had been cultivated with care, and formed an appropriate ornament for the place. a fine cluster of them shaded the graves of my family, and a rustic seat had been placed beneath their branches, by order of my mother, who had been in the habit of passing hours in meditation at the grave of her husband. grace and i, and lucy, had often repaired to the same place at night, after my mother's death, and there we used to sit many an hour, in deep silence; or, if utterance were given to a thought, it was in a respectful whisper. as i now approached this seat, i had a bitter satisfaction in remembering that rupert had never accompanied us in these pious little pilgrimages. even in the day of her greatest ascendancy, grace had been unable to enlist her admirer in an act so repugnant to his innate character. as for lucy, her own family lay on one side of that cluster of cedars, as mine lay on the other; and often had i seen the dear young creature weeping, as her eyes were riveted on the graves of relatives she had never known. but _my_ mother had been _her_ mother, and for this friend she felt an attachment almost as strong as that which was entertained by ourselves. i am not certain i ought not to say, an attachment _quite_ as strong as our own. i was apprehensive some visitors might be hovering near the grave of my sister at that witching hour, and i approached the cedars cautiously, intending to retire unseen should such prove to be the case. i saw no one, however, and proceeded directly to the line of graves, placing myself at the foot of the freshest and most newly made. hardly was this done, when i heard the word "miles!" uttered in a low, half-stifled exclamation. it was not easy for me to mistake the voice of lucy; she was seated so near the trunk of a cedar that her dark dress had been confounded with the shadows of the tree. i went to the spot, and took a seat at her side. "i am not surprised to find _you_ here," i said, taking the dear girl's hand, by a sort of mechanical mode of manifesting affection which had grown up between us from childhood, rather than from, any sudden impulse--"_you_ that watched over her so faithfully during the last hours of her existence." "ah! miles," returned a voice that was filled with sadness, "how little did i anticipate this when you spoke of grace in the brief interview we had at the theatre!" i understood my companion fully. lucy had been educated superior to cant and false morals. her father drew accurate and manly distinctions between sin and the exactions of a puritanical presumption that would set up its own narrow notions as the law of god; and, innocent as she was, no thought of error was associated with the indulgence of her innocent pleasures. but grace, suffering and in sorrow, while she herself had been listening to the wonderful poems of shakspeare, did present a painful picture to her mind, which, so far from being satisfied with what she had done in my sister's behalf, was tenderly reproachful on account of fancied omissions. "it is the will of god, lucy," i answered. "it must be our effort to be resigned." "if _you_ can think thus, miles, how much easier ought it to be for me! and, yet--" "yet, what, lucy? i believe you loved my sister as affectionately as i did myself, but i am sensitive on this point; and, tender, true, warm as i know your heart to be, i cannot allow that even you loved her more." "it is not that, miles--it is not that. have i no cause of particular regret--no sense of shame--no feeling of deep humility to add to my grief for her loss?" "i understand you, lucy, and at once answer, no. you are not rupert any more than rupert is you. let all others become what they may, you will ever remain lucy hardinge." "i thank you, miles," answered my companion, gently pressing the hand that still retained hers, "and thank you from my heart. but your generous nature will not sae this matter as others might. we were aliens to your blood, dwellers under your own roof, received into the bosom of your own family, and were bound by every sacred obligation to do you no wrong. i would not have my dear, upright father know the truth for worlds." "he never will know it, lucy, and it is my earnest desire that we all forget it. henceforth rupert and i must be strangers, though the tie that exists between me and the rest of your family will only be drawn the closer for this sad event." "rupert is my brother--" lucy answered, though it was in a voice so low that her words were barely audible. "you would not leave me quite alone in the world!" i said, with something like reproachful energy. "no, miles, no--_that_ tie, as you have said, must and should last for life. nor do i wish you to regard rupert as of old. it is impossible--improper even--but you can concede to us some of that same indulgence which i am so willing to concede to you." "certainly--rupert is your brother, as you say, and i do not wish you ever to regard him, otherwise. he will marry emily merton, and i trust he may be happy. here, over my sister's grave, lucy, i renew the pledge already made to you, never to act on what has occurred." i got no answer to this declaration in words, but lucy would actually have kissed my hand in gratitude had i permitted it. this i could not suffer, however, but raised her own hand to my lips, where it was held until the dear girl gently withdrew it herself. "miles," lucy said, after a long and thoughtful pause, "it is not good for you to remain at clawbonny, just at this time. your kinsman, john wallingford, has been here, and i think you like him. why not pay him a visit? he resides near niagara, 'west of the bridge,'[ ] as he calls it, and you might take the opportunity of seeing the 'falls.'" [footnote : in the western part of the state of new york, there are several small lakes that lie nearly parallel to each other, and not far asunder, with lengths that vary from fifteen to forty miles. the outlet of one of these lakes--the cayuga--lies in the route of the great thorough-fare to buffalo, and a bridge of a mile in length was early thrown across it. from this circumstance has arisen the expression of saying, "west of the bridge;" meaning the frontier counties, which include, among-other districts, that which is also known as the "genessee country."] "i understand you, lucy, and am truly grateful for the interest you feel in my happiness. i do not intend to remain long at clawbonny, which i shall leave to-morrow--" "to-morrow!" interrupted lucy, and i thought like one who was alarmed. "does that appear too early? i feel the necessity of occupation, as well as of a change of scene. you will remember i have a ship and interests, of moment to myself, to care for: i must turn my face, and move towards the east, instead of towards the west." "you intend then, miles, to pursue this profession of yours!" lucy said, as i thought, with a little like gentle regret in her manner and tones. "certainly--what better can i do? i want not wealth, i allow; am rich enough already for all my wants, but i have need of occupation. the sea is to my liking, i am still young, and can afford a few more years on the water. i shall never marry--" lucy started--"and having now no heir nearer than john wallingford"-- "john wallingford!--you have cousins much nearer than he!" "that is true; but not of the old line. it was grace's wish that i should leave our cousin john the clawbonny property at least, whatever i do with the rest. you are so rich now as not to need it, lucy; else would i leave every shilling to you." "i believe you would, dear miles," answered lucy, with fervent warmth of manner. "you have ever been all that is good and kind to me, and i shall never forget it." "talk of my kindness to you, lucy, when you parted with every cent you had on earth to give me the gold you possessed, on my going to sea. i am almost sorry you are now so much richer than myself, else would i certainly make you my heir." "we will not talk of money any longer in this sacred place," lucy answered tremulously. "what i did as a foolish girl you will forget; we were but children then, miles." so lucy did not wish me to remember certain passages in our earlier youth! doubtless her present relations to andrew drewett rendered the recollection delicate, if not unpleasant. i thought this less like herself than was her wont--lucy, who was usually so simple-minded, so affectionate, so frank and so true. nevertheless, love is an engrossing sentiment, as i could feel in my own case, and it might be that its jealous sensitiveness took the alarm at even that which was so innocent and sincere. the effect of these considerations, added to that of lucy's remark, was to change the discourse, and we conversed long, in melancholy sadness, of her we had lost, for this life, altogether. "we may live, ourselves, to grow old, miles," lucy observed, "but never shall we cease to remember grace as she was, and to love her memory, as we loved her dear self in life. there has not been an hour since her death, that i have not seen her sitting at my side, and conversing in sisterly confidence, as we did from infancy to the day she ceased to live!" as lucy said this, she rose, drew her shawl around her, and held out her hand to take leave, for i had spoken of an intention to quit clawbonny early in the morning. the tears the dear girl shed might have been altogether owing to our previous conversation, or i might have had a share in producing them. lucy used to weep at parting from me, as well as grace, and she was not a girl to change with the winds. but i could not part thus: i had a sort of feeling that when we parted this time, it would virtually be a final separation, as the wife of andrew drewett never could be exactly that which lucy hardinge had now been to me for near twenty years. "i will not say farewell now, lucy," i observed. "should you not come to town before i sail, i will return to clawbonny to take leave of you. god only knows what will become of me, or whither i shall be led, and i could wish to defer the leave-takings to the last moment. you and your excellent father must have my final adieus." lucy returned the pressure of my hand, uttered a hasty good-night, and glided through the little gate of the rectory which by this time we had reached. no doubt she fancied i returned immediately to my own house. so far from this, however, i passed hours alone, in the church-yard, sometimes musing on the dead, and then with all my thoughts bent on the living. i could see the light in lucy's window, and not till that was extinguished did i retire. it was long past midnight. i passed hours teeming with strange emotions among hose cedars. twice i knelt by grace's grave, and prayed devoutly to god. it seemed to me that petitions offered in such a place must be blessed. i thought of my mother, of my manly, spirited father, of grace, and of all the past. then i lingered long beneath lucy's window, and, in spite of this solemn visit to the graves of the dead, the brightest and most vivid image that i carried away with me was of the living. chapter x. _shy_. three thousand ducats--well. _bass_. ay, sir, for three months. _shy_. for three months--well. _bass_ for the which, as i told you, antonio shall become bound. _shy_. antonio shall become bound--well. merchant of venice. i found john wallingford in town, awaiting my appearance. he had taken lodgings at the city hotel, on purpose to be under the same roof with me, and we occupied adjoining rooms. i dined with him; and after dinner he went with me to take a look at the dawn. the second-mate told me that marble had made a flying visit to the ship, promised to be back again in a few days, and disappeared. by comparing dates, i ascertained that he would be in time to meet the mortgage sale, and felt no further concern in that behalf. "miles," said john wallingford, coolly, as we were walking up pine street, on our way back towards the tavern, "did you not tell me you employed richard harrison as a legal adviser?" "i did. mr. hardinge made me acquainted with him, and i understand he is one of the oldest lawyers in the country. that is his office, on the other side of the street--here, directly opposite." "i saw it, and that was the reason i spoke. it might be well just to step in and give some directions about your will. i wish to see clawbonny put in the right line. if you would give me a deed of it for one dollar, i would not take it from you, the only son of an eldest son; but it would break my heart to hear of its going out of the name. mr. harrison is also an old adviser and-friend of mine." i was startled with this plain-dealing; yet, there was something about the manner of the man that prevented my being displeased. "mr. harrison would not be visible at this hour, but i will cross to the office, and write him a letter on the subject," i answered, doing as i said on the instant, and leaving john wallingford to pursue his way to the house alone. the next day, however, the will was actually drawn up, executed, and placed in my cousin's hands, he being the sole executor. if the reader should ask me why i did this, especially the last, i might be at a loss to answer. a strange confidence had come over me, as respects this relative, whose extraordinary frankness even a more experienced man might have believed to be either the height of honesty, or the perfection of art. whichever was the case, i not only left my will with him, but, in the course of the next week, i let him into the secret of all my pecuniary affairs; grace's bequest to rupert, alone, excepted. john wallingford encouraged this confidence, telling me that plunging at once, heart and hand, into the midst of business, was the most certain mode of forgetting my causes of sorrow. plunge into anything with my whole heart, i could not, then, though i endeavoured to lose my cares in business. one of my first acts, in the way of affairs, was to look after the note i had given to rupert. it had been made payable at the bank where i kept my deposits, and i went thither to inquire if it had been left for collection. the following conversation passed between myself and the cashier on this occasion: "good morning, mr.----," i said, saluting the gentleman; "i have come to inquire if a note for $ , , made by me in favour of rupert hardinge, esquire, at ten days, has been left for collection. if so, i am ready to pay it now." the cashier gave me a business smile,--one that spoke favourably of my standing as a moneyed man,--before he answered the question. this smile was, also, a sign that money was plenty. "not absolutely for collection, captain wallingford, as nothing would give us more pleasure than to renew it, if you would just go through the form of obtaining a city endorser." "mr. hardinge has then left it for collection," i observed, pained, in spite of all that had passed, at rupert's giving this conclusive evidence of the inherent meanness of his character. "not exactly for collection, sir," was the cashier's answer, "for, wishing to anticipate the money, by a few days, and being under the necessity of leaving town, we discounted it for him." "anticipate!--you have discounted the note, sir!" "with the greatest pleasure, knowing it to be good. mr. hardinge remarked that you had not found it convenient to draw for so large a sum on the spot, and had given this note at short date; and the consideration having been received in full, he was desirous of being put in cash, at once. we did not hesitate, of course." "consideration received in full!" escaped me, spite of a determination to be cool; but, luckily, the appearance of another person on business prevented the words, or the manner, from being noted. "well, mr. cashier, i will draw a check, and take up the note, now." more smiles followed. the check was given; the note was cancelled and handed to me, and i left the bank with a balance in my favour of rather more than $ , , instead of the $ , odd, which i had held previously to entering it. it is true, i was heir at law to all grace's assets, which mr. hardinge had handed over to me, the morning i left clawbonny, duly assigned and transferred. these last consisted of stocks, and of bonds and mortgages, drawing interest, being on good farms in our own county. "well. miles, what do you mean to do with your ship," demanded jack wallingford, that evening. "i understand the freight for which you bargained has been transferred to another owner, on account of your late troubles; and they tell me freights, just now, are not very high." "really, cousin jack, i am hardly prepared to answer the question. colonial produce commands high prices in the north of germany, they tell me; and, were i in cash, i would buy a cargo on my own account. some excellent sugars and coffees, &c., were offered me to-day, quite reasonably, for ready money." "and how much cash would be necessary to carry out that scheme, my man?" "some $ , , more or less, while i have but about $ , on hand; though i can command $ , additional, by selling certain securities; so i must abandon the notion." "that does not follow necessarily. let me think a night on it, and we will talk further in the morning. i like quick bargains, but i like a cool head. this hot town and old madeira keep me in a fever, and i wish a night's rest before i make a bargain." the next morning, john wallingford returned to the subject, at breakfast, which meal we took by ourselves, in order to be at liberty to converse without any auditors. "i have thought over that sweet subject, the sugars, miles," commenced my cousin, "and approve of the plan. can you give me any further security if i will lend you the money?" "i have some bonds and mortgages, to the amount of twenty-two thousand dollars, with me, which might be assigned for such a purpose." "but $ , are an insufficient security for the $ , , or $ , , which you may need to carry out your adventure." "that is quite true, but i have nothing else worth mentioning--unless it be the ship, or clawbonny." "tut for the ship!--she is gone, if you and your cargo go; and as for insurances, i want none of them--i am a landed man, and like landed securities. give me your note at three months, or six months if you will, with the bonds and mortgages you mention, and a mortgage on clawbonny, and you can have $ , , this very day, should you need them." i was surprised at this offer, having no notion my kinsman was rich enough to lend so large a sum. on a further conversation, however, i learned he had near double the sum he had mentioned, in ready money, and that his principal business in town was to invest in good city securities. he professed himself willing, however, to lend me half, in order to help along a kinsman he liked. i did not at all relish the notion of mortgaging clawbonny, but john soon laughed and reasoned me out of that. as for grace's securities, i parted with them with a sort of satisfaction; the idea of holding her effects being painful to me. "were it out of the family, or even out of the name, i should think something of it myself. miles," he said, "but a mortgage from _you_ to _me_ is like one from _me_ to _you_. you have made me your heir, and to be honest with you, boy, _i have made you mine_. if you lose my money, you lose your own." there was no resisting this. my kinsman's apparent frankness and warmth of disposition overcame all my scruples, and i consented to borrow the money on his own terms. john wallingford was familiar with the conveyancing of real estate, and, with his own hand, he filled up the necessary papers, which i signed. the money was borrowed at per cent.; my cousin positively refusing to receive the legal rate of interest from a wallingford. pay-day was put at six months' distance, and all was done in due form. "i shall not put this mortgage on record, miles," jack wallingford remarked, as he folded and endorsed the paper. "i have too much confidence in your honesty to believe it necessary. you have given one mortgage on clawbonny with too much reluctance, to render it probable you will be in a hurry to execute another. as for myself, i own to a secret pleasure in having even this incomplete hold on the old place, which makes me feel twice as much of a wallingford as i ever felt before." for my part, i wondered at my kinsman's family pride, and i began to think i had been too humble in my own estimate of our standing in the world. it is true, it was not easy to deceive myself in this particular, and, in point of fact, i was certainly right; but when i found a man who was able to lend $ , at an hour's notice, valuing himself on coming from miles the first, i could not avoid fancying miles the first a more considerable personage than i had hitherto imagined. as for the money, i was gratified with the confidence john wallingford reposed in me, had really a wish to embark in the adventure for which it supplied the means, and regarded the abstaining from recording the mortgage an act of delicacy and feeling that spoke well for the lender's heart. my cousin did not cast me adrift as soon as he had filled my pockets. on the contrary, he went with me, and was a witness to all the purchases i made. the colonial produce was duly bought, in his presence, and many a shrewd hint did i get from this cool-headed and experienced man, who, while he was no merchant, in the common sense of the term, had sagacity enough to make a first-class dealer. as i paid for everything in ready money, the cargo was obtained on good terms, and the dawn was soon stowed. as soon as this was done, i ordered a crew shipped, and the hatches battened on. as a matter of course, the constant and important business with which i was now occupied, had a tendency to dull the edge of my grief, though i can truly say that the image of grace was never long absent from my mind, even in the midst of my greatest exertions. nor was lucy forgotten. she was usually at my sister's side; and it never happened that i remembered the latter, without seeing the beautiful semblance of her living friend, watching over her faded form, with sisterly solicitude. john wallingford left me, at the end of a week, after seeing me fairly under way as a merchant, as well as ship-owner and ship-master. "farewell, miles," he said, as he shook my hand with a cordiality that appeared to increase the longer he knew me, "farewell, my dear boy, and may god prosper you in all your lawful and just undertakings. never forget you are a wallingford, and the owner of clawbonny. should we meet again, you will find a true friend in me; should we never meet, you will have reason to remember me." this leave-taking occurred at the inn. a few hours later i was in the cabin of the dawn, arranging some papers, when i heard a well-known voice, on deck, calling out to the stevedores and riggers, in a tone of authority--"come, bear a hand, and lay aft; off that forecastle; to this derrick,--who ever saw a derrick standing before, after the hatches were battened down, in a first-class ship!--a regular a. no. ? bear a hand--bear a hand; you've got an old sea-dog among you, men." there was no mistaking the person. on reaching the deck, i found marble, his coat off, but still wearing all the rest of his "go-ashores," flourishing about among the labourers, putting into them new life and activity. he heard my footsteps behind him, but never turned to salute me, until the matter in hand was terminated. then i received that honour, and it was easy to see the cloud that passed over his red visage, as he observed the deep mourning in which i was clad. "good morning to you, captain wallingford," he said, making a mate's bow,--"good morning, sir. god's will be done! we are all sinners, and so are some of the stevedores, who've left this derrick standing as if the ship needed it for a jury-mast. yes, sir, god's will must be submitted to; and sorry enough was i to read the obittery in the newspapers--grace, &c., daughter, &c., and only sister, &c.--you'll be glad to hear, however, sir, that willow cove is moored head and starn in the family, as one might say, and that the bloody mortgage is cut adrift." "i am glad to hear this, mr. marble," i answered, submitting to a twinge, as i remembered that a mortgage had just been placed on my own paternal acres; "and i trust the place will long remain in your blood. how did you leave your mother and niece?" "i've not left 'em at all, sir. i brought the old lady and kitty to town with me, on what i call the mutual sight-seeing principle. they are both up at my boarding-house." "i am not certain, moses, that i understand this mutual principle, of which you speak." "god bless you, miles," returned the mate, who could presume to be familiar, again, now we had walked so far aft as not to have any listeners; "call me moses as often as you possibly can, for it's little i hear of that pleasant sound now. mother will dub me oloff, and little kitty calls me nothing but uncle. after all, i have a bulrush feelin' about me, and moses will always seem the most nat'ral. as for the mutual principle, it is just this; i'm to show mother the dawn, one or two of the markets--for, would you believe it, the dear old soul never saw a market and is dying to visit one, and so i shall take her to see the bear first, and the oswego next, and the fly last, though she cries out ag'in a market that is much visited by flies. then i must introduce her to one of the dutch churches;--after that 't will go hard with me, but i get the dear soul into the theatre; and they tell me there is a lion, up town, that will roar as loud as a bull. _that_ she must see, of course." "and when your mother has seen all these sights, what will she have to show you?" "the tombstone on which i was laid out, as a body might say, at five weeks old. she tells me they traced the stone, out of feelin' like, and followed it up until they fairly found it, set down as the head-stone of an elderly single lady, with a most pious and edifying inscription on it. mother says it contains a whole varse from the bible! that stone may yet stand me in hand, for anything i know to the contrary, miles." i congratulated my mate on this important discovery, and inquired the particulars of the affair with the old usurer; in what manner the money was received, and by what process the place had been so securely "moored, head and starn, in the family." "it was all plain sailing when a fellow got on the right course," marble answered. "do you know, miles, that they call paying off one of your heavy loads on land, '_lifting_ the mortgage;' and a lift it is, i can tell you, when a man has no money to do it with. the true way to get out of debt is to 'arn money; i've found that much out since i found my mother; and, the cash in hand, all you have to do is to hand it over. old van tassel was civil enough when he saw the bag of dollars, and was full of fine speeches. he didn't wish to distress the 'worthy mrs. wetmore, not he; and she was welcome to keep the money as long as she pleased, provided the interest was punctually paid;' but i'd have none of his soft words, and laid down the spaniards, and told him to count them. i 'lifted his encumbrance,' as they call'd it, as easily as if it had been a pillow of fresh feathers, and walked off with that bit of paper in my hands, with the names tore off it, and satisfaction give me, as my lawyer said. this law is droll business, miles; if money is paid, they give you satisfaction, just as gentlemen call on each other, you know, when a little cross. but, whatever you do, never put your hand and seal to a mortgage; for land under such a curse is as likely to slide one way as the other. clawbonny is an older place than willow cove, even; and both are too venerable and venerated to be mortgaged." the advice came too late. clawbonny _was_ mortgaged already, and i confess to several new and violent twinges, as i recalled the fact, while marble was telling his story. still i could not liken my kinsman, plain-talking, warm-hearted, family-loving, john wallingford, to such a griping usurer as mrs. wetmore's persecutor. i was glad to see my mate on every account. he relieved me from a great deal of irksome duty, and took charge of the ship, bringing his mother and kitty; that very day, to live in the cabin. i could perceive that the old woman was greatly surprised at the neatness she found in all directions. according to her notions, a ship floated nearly as much in tar as in the water; and great was her pleasure in finding rooms _almost_ (conscience will not allow me to say quite) as clean as her own residence. for one whole day she desired to see no more than the ship, though it was easy to discover that the good woman had set her heart on the dutch church and the lion. in due time her son redeemed all his pledges, not forgetting the theatre. with the last, good mrs. wetmore was astounded, and kitty infinitely delighted. the pretty little thing confessed that she should like to go every night, wondered what horace bright would think of it, and whether he would dare venture alone to a play-house, should he happen to come to york. in this country was still in the palmy state of unsophistication. there were few, scarcely any, strolling players, and none but those who visited the _cities_, properly so called, enjoyed opportunities of witnessing the wonders of paint, patch and candle-light, as auxiliary to the other wonders of the stage. poor little kitty! there was a day, or two, during which the sock and buskin wrought their usual effect on her female nature, and almost eclipsed the glories of horace bright, in her own bright eyes. i could not refrain from accompanying marble's party to the museum. in that day, this was a somewhat insignificant collection of curiosities, in greenwich street, but it was a miracle to the aunt and niece. even the worthy manhattanese were not altogether guiltless of esteeming it a wonder, though the greater renown of the philadelphia museum kept this of new york a little in the shade. i have often had occasion to remark that, in this republic, the people in the country are a little less country, and the people of the towns a good deal less town, than is apt to be the case in great nations. the last is easily enough accounted for: the towns having shot up so rapidly, and receiving their accessions of population from classes not accustomed to town lives from childhood. were a thousand villages to be compressed into a single group of houses, their people would long retain the notions, tastes and habits of villagers, though they would form a large town in the aggregate. such, in a measure, is still the fact with our american towns; no one of them all having the air, tone or appearance of a capital, while most of them would be paragons in the eyes of such persons as old mrs. wetmore and her grand-daughter. thus it was, that the greenwich street museum gave infinite satisfaction to these two unsophisticated visitors. kitty was most struck with certain villainous wax-figures, works of art that were much on a level with certain similar objects that were lately, if they are not now, exhibited for the benefit of the dean and chapter of westminster abbey, above the tombs of the plantagenets, and almost in contact with that marvel of gothic art, henry vii's. chapel! it is said that "misery makes a man acquainted with strange bed-fellows." so, it would seem, do shillings and sixpences. to return to kitty: after admiring divers beauties, such as the new york beauty, the south carolina beauty, and the pennsylvania beauty, she fastened her own pretty eyes on a nun, wondering who a female in such an attire could be. in , a nun and a nunnery would be almost as great curiosities, in america, as a rhinoceros, though the country has since undergone some changes in this respect. "grandmother," exclaimed kitty, "who _can_ that lady be--it isn't _lady_ washington, is it?" "it looks more like a clergyman's wife, kitty," answered the worthy mrs. wetmore, not a little '_non-plushed,_' herself, as she afterwards admitted. "i should think madam washington went more gaily dressed, and looked happier like. i'm sure if any woman could be happy, it was she!" "ay," answered her son, "there is truth in that remark. this woman, here, is what is called a nun in the roman catholic quarters of the world." "a nun!" repeated little kitty. "isn't that the sort of woman that shuts herself up in a house, and promises never to get married, uncle?" "you're quite right, my dear, and it's matter of surprise to me how you should pick up so many useful idees, in an out-of-the-way place, like willow cove." "it was not out of _your_ way, uncle," said kitty, a little reproachfully, "or you never would have found us." "in that partic'lar it was well enough, my dear. yes, a nun is a sort of she-hermit, a breed that i detest altogether." "i suppose, kitty," i inquired, "you think it wicked in man or woman to take a vow never to get married." the poor girl blushed, and she turned away from the nun without making any reply. no one can say what turn the conversation might have taken, had not the grandmother's eye fell on an indifferent copy of leonardo's celebrated picture of the last supper, receiving at the same time a printed explanation, one got up by some local antiquary, who had ventured to affix names to the different personages of the group, at his own suggestion. i pointed out the principal figure of the painting, which is sufficiently conspicuous by the way, and then referred the good woman to the catalogue for the rest of the names. "bless me, bless me!" exclaimed the worthy mother, "that i should live ever to see paintings of such people! kitty, my dear, this bald-headed old man is st. peter. did you ever think that st. peter was bald! and there is st. john, with black eyes.--wonderful, wonderful, that i should ever live to see likenesses of such blessed men!" kitty was as much astonished as her grandmother, and even the son was a little mystified. the latter remarked that "the world was making great head-way in all such things, and, for his part, he did not see how the painters and authors found out all they drew and recorded." the reader may easily imagine that half a day spent in such company was not entirely thrown away. still, half a day sufficed; and i went to the old coffee-house at one, to eat a sandwich and drink a glass of porter; that being the inn then most frequented for such purposes, especially by the merchants. i was in my box, with the curtain drawn, when a party of three entered that which adjoined it, ordering as many glasses of punch; which in that day was a beverage much in request of a morning, and which it was permitted even to a gentleman to drink before dining. it was the sherry-cobbler of the age; although i believe every thing is now pronounced to be out of fashion before dinner. as the boxes were separated merely by curtains, it was impossible to avoid hearing any conversation that passed in the one adjoining my own, especially when the parties took no pains to speak low, as happened to be the case with my three neighbours. consequently, i recognised the voices of andrew drewett and rupert hardinge in an instant;--that of the third person being unknown to me. "well, norton," said rupert, a little affectedly as to manner, "you have got drewett and myself down here among you traders, and i hope you will do the honours of the place, in a way to confer on the latter some credit. a merchant is nothing without credit, you know." "have no apprehensions for your gentility, hardinge," returned the person addressed. "many of the first persons in town frequent this house, at this hour, and its punch is renowned. by-the-way, i saw in a paper, the other day, rupert, that one of your relatives is dead--miss grace wallingford, your sister's old associate." a short pause followed, during which i scarcely breathed. "no, not a relation," rupert at length answered. "only my father's ward. you know how it is in the country: the clergyman being expected to take care of all the sick, and all the orphans." "but these wallingfords are people altogether above standing in need of favours," drewett hastily observed. "i have been at their place, and really it is a respectable spot. as for miss wallingford, she was a most charming girl, and her death will prove a severe blow to your sister, hardinge." this was said with so much feeling, that i could almost forgive the speaker for loving lucy; though i question if i could ever truly forgive him for being beloved by her. "why, yes," rejoined rupert, affecting an indifference that i could detect he was far from feeling, "grace _was_ a good creature; though, living so much with her in childhood, she had less interest in my eyes, perhaps, than she might have had in those of one less accustomed to see her. notwithstanding, i had a certain sort of regard for grace, i will confess." "respect and esteem her!--i should think all who knew her must," added drewett, as if determined to win my heart; "and, in my opinion, she was both beautiful and lovely." "this from a man who is confessedly an admirer--nay, engaged to your own sister, as the world says, hardinge, must be taken as warm praise," said the third. "but, i suppose, drewett sees the dear departed with the eyes of her friend--for miss hardinge was very intimate with her, i believe." "as intimate as sisters, and loving each other as sisters," returned drewett, with feeling. "no intimate of miss hardinge's can be anything but meritorious?" "grace wallingford had merit beyond a question," added rupert, "as has her brother, who is a good, honest fellow enough. when a boy, _i_ was rather intimate with _him_." "the certain proof of his excellencies and virtues;" put in the stranger, laughing. "but, if a ward, there must be a fortune. i think i have heard these wallingfords were richish." "yes, that is just it--_richish_" said drewett. "some forty or fifty thousand dollars between them, all of which the brother must now inherit; and glad am i it falls to so good a fellow." "this is generous praise from _you_, drewett; for i have heard this brother might prove your rival." "i had some such fears myself, once, i will confess," returned the other; "but they are all vanished. i no longer fear _him_, and can see and acknowledge his merits. besides, i am indebted to him for my life." "no _longer_ fear _him_."--this was plain enough, and was proof of the understanding that existed between the lovers. and why should i be feared?--i, who had never dared to say a word to the object nearest my heart, that might induce her to draw the ordinary distinction between passion and esteem--love, and a brotherly regard? "ay, drewett is pretty safe, i fancy," rupert remarked, laughing; "though it will hardly do for me to tell tales out of school." "this is a forbidden subject," rejoined the lover, "and we will talk of wallingford. he must inherit his sister's fortune." "poor grace!--it was little she had to leave, i fancy," rupert quietly observed. "ay, little in your eyes, hardinge," added the third person, "but a good deal in those of her brother, the ship-master, one might think. ever since you have fallen heir to mrs. bradfort's estate, a few thousands count for nothing." "were it a million, that brother would think it dearly purchased by the loss of his sister!" exclaimed drewett. "it's plain enough there is no rivalry between andrew and miles," added the laughing rupert. "certainly money is not quite of so much account with me now, as it used to be when i had nothing but a clergyman's salary to glean from. as for mrs. bradfort's fortune, it came from a common ancestor, and i do not see who has a better right to it, than those who now enjoy it." "unless it might be your father," said the third man, "who stood before you, according to the laws of primogeniture. i dare say rupert made love to his venerable cousin, if the truth were known, and induced her to overlook a generation, with his oily tongue." "rupert did nothing of the sort; it is his glory to love emily merton, and emily merton only. as my worthy cousin could not take her fortune with her, she left it among her natural heirs. how do you know i have got any of it. i give you my honour, my account in bank is under $ , ." "a pretty fair account, that, by jove!" exclaimed the other. "it must be a rapping income that will permit a fellow like you to keep up such a balance." "why, some persons say my sister has the whole fortune. i dare say that drewett can satisfy you on this head. the affair concerns him quite as much, as it does any other person of my acquaintance." "i can assure you i know nothing about it;" answered drewett, honestly. "nor do i desire to know. i would marry miss hardinge to-morrow, though she had not a cent." "it's just this disinterestedness, andrew, that makes me like you," observed rupert, magnificently. "depend on it, you'll fare none the worse, in the long run, for this admirable trait in your character. lucy knows it, and appreciates it as she should." i wished to hear no more, but left the box and the house, taking care not to be seen. from that moment, i was all impatience to get to sea. i forgot even the intention of visiting my sister's grave; nor did i feel that i could sustain another interview with lucy herself. that afternoon i told marble the ship must be ready to sail the succeeding morning. chapter xi. "go tenderness of years; take this key. give enlargement to the swain--bring him festinately hither. i must employ him in a letter to my love." love's labour lost. i will not attempt to analyze the feelings which now impelled me to quit america. i had discovered, or thought i had discovered, certain qualities in andrew drewett which rendered him, in some measure, at least worthy of lucy; and i experienced how painful it is to concede such an advantage to a rival. still, i must be just enough to add, that, in my cooler moments, when i came to consider that lucy could never be mine, i was rejoiced to find such proofs of a generous disposition in her future husband. on the other hand, i could not divest myself of the idea that perfect confidence in his own position, could alone enable him to be so liberal in his opinions of myself. the reader will understand how extravagant was this last supposition, when he remembers that i had never given lucy herself, or the world, any sufficient reason to suppose that i was a suitor for the dear girl's hand. i never saw marble so industrious as he proved to be when he received my hurried orders for sailing, that afternoon. he shipped his mother and niece for willow cove, by an albany sloop, the same evening, got the crew on board, and the dawn into the stream, before sunset, and passed half the night in sending off small stores. as for the ship, she had been cleared the day the hatches were battened down. according to every rule of mercantile thrift, i ought to have been at sea twenty-four hours, when these orders were given; but a lingering reluctance to go further from the grave of grace, the wish to have one more interview with lucy, and a disposition to indulge my mate in his commendable zeal to amuse his new-found relatives, kept me in port beyond my day. all these delays, however, were over, and i was now in a feverish hurry to be off. neb came up to the city hotel as i was breakfasting, and reported that the ship was riding at single anchor, with a short range, and that the fore-top-sail was loose. i sent him to the post-office for letters, and ordered my bill. all my trunks had gone aboard before the ship hauled off, and,--the distances in new york then being short,--neb was soon back, and ready to shoulder my carpet-bag. the bill was paid, three or four letters were taken in my hand, and i walked towards the battery, followed by the faithful black, who had again abandoned home, chloe, and clawbonny, to follow my fortunes. i delayed opening the letters until i reached the battery. despatching neb to the boat, with orders to wait, i took a turn among the trees,--still reluctant to quit the native soil--while i broke the seals. two of the letters bore the post-marks of the office nearest clawbonny; the third was from albany; and the fourth was a packet of some size from washington, franked by the secretary of state, and bearing the seal of office. surprised at such a circumstance, i opened the last of these communications first. the official letter proved to be an envelope containing,--with a civil request to myself to deliver the enclosures,--dispatches addressed to the consul at hamburg, for which port my ship had been advertised some time. of course, i could only determine to comply; and that communication was disposed of. one of the clawbonny letters was in mr. hardinge's hand, and i found it to contain some excellent and parental advice. he spoke of my sister, but it was calmly, and with the humble hope that became his sacred office. i was not sorry to find that he advised me not to visit clawbonny before i sailed. lucy, he said, was well, and a gentle sadness was gradually taking the place of the livelier grief she had endured, immediately after the loss of her friend. "you were not aware, miles, how keenly she suffered," my good old guardian continued, "for she struggled hard to seem calm in your presence; but from me my dear child had no secrets on this subject, whatever she may see fit to have on another. hours has she passed, weeping on my bosom, and i much doubt if the image of grace has been absent from her waking thoughts a single minute, at any one time, since we first laid your sister's head in the coffin. of you she does not speak often, but, when she does, it is ever in the kindest and most solicitous manner; calling you 'miles,' 'poor miles,' or 'dear miles,' with all that _sisterly_ frankness and affection you have known in her from childhood." the old gentleman had underscored the "_sisterly_" himself. to my delight and surprise, there was a long, very long, letter from lucy, too! how it happened that i did not recognise her pretty, delicate, lady-like handwriting, is more than i can say; but the direction had been overlooked in the confusion of receiving so many letters together. that direction, too, gave me pleasure. it was to "miles wallingford, esquire;" whereas the three others were addressed to "capt. miles wallingford, ship dawn, new york." now a ship-master is no more entitled, in strict usage, to be called a "captain," than he is to be called an "esquire." your man-of-war officer is the only true _captain_; a 'master' being nothing but a 'master.' then, no american is entitled to be called an 'esquire,' which is the correlative of "knight," and is a title properly prohibited by the constitution, though most people imagine that a magistrate is an "esquire" ex officio. he is an "esquire" as a member of congress is an "honourable," by assumption, and not of right; and i wish the country had sufficient self-respect to be consistent with itself. what should we think of mark anthony, esquire? or of 'squire lucius junius brutus? or his excellency julius cæsar, esquire?[ ] nevertheless, "esquire" is an appellation that is now universally given to a gentleman, who, in truth, is the only man in this country that, has any right to it at all, and he only by courtesy. lucy had felt this distinction, and i was grateful for the delicacy and tact with which she had dropped the "captain," and put in the "esquire." to me it seemed to say that _she_ recognised me as one of her own class, let rupert, and his light associates, think of me as they might. lucy never departed a hair's breadth from the strictly proper, in all matters of this sort, something having been obtained from education, but far more from the inscrutable gifts of nature. [footnote : a few years since, the writer saw a marriage announced in a _coloured_ paper, which read, "married, by the rev. julius cæsar.--washington, to miss--------."] as for the letter itself, it is too long to copy; yet i scarce know how to describe it. full of heart it was, of course, for the dear girl was all heart; and it was replete with her truth and nature. the only thing in it that did not give me entire satisfaction, was a request not to come again to clawbonny, until my return from europe. "time," she added, "will lessen the pain of such a visit; and, by that time, you will begin to regard our beloved grace as i already regard her, a spotless spirit waiting for our union with it in the mansions of bliss. it is not easy, miles, to know how to treat such a loss as this of ours. god may bless it to our lasting good, and, in this light, it is useful to bear it ever in mind; while a too great submission to sorrow may only serve, to render us unhappy. still, i think, no one who knew grace, as _we_ knew her, can ever recall her image without feeling himself drawn nearer to the dread being who created her, and who has called her to himself so early. _we_, alone, thoroughly understood the beloved creature my dear, excellent father loved her as he loves me, but he could not, did not know all the rare virtues of her heart. these could be known only to those who knew her great secret, and, god be praised! even rupert has little true knowledge of that." "my father has spoken to me of grace's wish, that he and i should accept some memorials of the affection she bore us. these were unnecessary, but are far too sacred to be declined, i sincerely wish that their value, in gold, had been less, for the hair i possess (some of which is reserved for you) is far more precious to me, than any diamonds, or stones, could possibly become. as, however, something must be purchased, or procured, i have to request that my memorial may be the pearls you gave grace, on your return from the pacific. of course i do not mean the valuable necklace you have reserved for one who will one day be still dearer to you than any of us, but the dozen or two of pearls that you bestowed on your sister, in my presence, at clawbonny. they are sufficiently valuable in themselves, to answer all the purposes of grace's bequest, and i know they were very much prized by her, as _your_ gift, dear miles. i am certain you will not believe they will be the less valuable in my eyes, on that account. as i know where they are, i shall go to clawbonny and take possession of them at once, so you need give yourself no further concern on account of the memorial that was to be presented to me. i acknowledge its reception, unless you object to my proposition." i scarce knew what to think of this. i would gladly have bestowed on lucy pearls of equal value to those i had given grace, but she refused to receive them; and now, she asked for these very pearls, which, intrinsically, were not half the value of the sum i had informed mr. hardinge grace had requested me to expend in purchasing a memorial. this avidity to possess these pearls--for so it struck me--was difficult to account for, grace having owned divers other ornaments that were more costly, and which she had much oftener worn. i confess, i had thought of attempting to persuade lucy to receive my own necklace as the memorial of grace, but, a little reflection satisfied me of the hopelessness of success, and nothing had been said on the subject. of course i acquiesced in the wish of the dear girl to possess the pearls; but, at the same time, i determined to make an additional purchase, more thoroughly to carry out the wishes of my sister. on the whole, the letter of lucy gave me a great and soothing pleasure. i came to a resolution to answer it, and to send that answer back by the pilot. i had no owner to feel any solicitude in the movements of the ship; had no longer a sister to care for myself; and to whom else could my last words on quitting the land be so appropriately addressed, as to this constant and true-hearted friend? that much, at least, i could presume to call lucy, and even to that i clung as the ship-wrecked mariner clings to the last plank that floats. the fourth letter, to my astonishment, bore the signature of john wallingford, and the date of albany. he had got this far on his way home, and written me a line to let me know the fact. i copy his epistle in full, viz:-- "dear miles, "here i am, and sorry am i to see, by the papers, _there_ you are still. recollect, my dear boy, that sugars will melt. it is time you were off: this is said for your own sake, and not for mine, as you well know i am amply secured. still, the markets may fall, and he who is first in them can wait for a rise, while he who is last must take what offers." "above all, miles, do not take it into your head to alter your will. things are now arranged between us precisely as they should be, and i hate changes. i am your heir, and you are mine. your counsel, richard harrison, esquire, is a man of great respectability, and a perfectly safe repository of such a secret. i leave many of my papers in his hands, and he has now been my counsel ever since i had need of one; and treads so hard on hamilton's heels, that the last, sometimes feels his toes. this is as counsel, however, and not as an advocate. "adieu, my dear boy: we are both wallingfords, and the nearest of kin to each other, _of the name_. clawbonny will be safe with either of us, and either of us will be safe with clawbonny. "your affectionate cousin, john wallingford." i confess that all this anxiety about clawbonny began to give me some uneasiness, and that i often wished, i had been less ambitious, or less hasty would be the better word, and had been content to go to sea again, in my simple character of ship-master, and ship-owner; leaving the merchant to those who better understood the vocation. i now went to the boat, and to the ship. marble was all ready for me, and in ten minutes the anchor was clear of the bottom; in ten more, it was catted and fished, and the dawn was beating down the bay, on a young flood, with a light breeze, at south-west. the pilot being in charge, i had nothing to do but go below, and write my letters. i answered everybody, even to the secretary of state, who, at that time, was no less a man than james madison. to him, however, i had nothing to say, but to acknowledge the receipt of the dispatches, and to promise to deliver them. my letter to mr. hardinge, was, i hope, such as a son might have written to a revered parent. in it, i begged he would allow me to add to his library, by a purchase of theological works of value, and which, in that day, could only be procured in europe. this was to be his memorial of my sister. i also begged of his friendship an occasional look at clawbonny, though i did not venture to speak of the mortgage, of which i now felt a sort of conviction he would not approve. the letter to john wallingford, was as pithy as his own to me. i told him my will was made, on a conviction of its perfect propriety, and assured him it would not be altered in a hurry; i told him the sugars were safe, and let him understand that they were already on their way to hamburg, whence i hoped, ere long, to send him a good account of their sale. to lucy, i was by no means so laconic. on the subject of the pearls of grace, i begged her to do just as she pleased; adding a request, however, that she would select such others of my sister's ornaments, as might be most agreeable to herself. on this point i was a little earnest, since the pearls were not worth the sum grace had mentioned to me; and i felt persuaded lucy would not wish me to remain her debtor. there was a pair of bracelets, in particular, that grace had highly prized, and which were very pretty in themselves. my father had purchased the stones--rubies of some beauty--in one of his voyages, for my mother, who had fancied them too showy for her to wear. i had caused them to be set for grace, and they would make a very suitable ornament for lucy; and were to be so much the more prized, from the circumstance, that grace had once worn them. it is true, they contained a little, though very little of my hair; for on this grace had insisted; but this hair was rather a blemish, and might easily be removed. i said as much in my letter. on the subject of my sister's death, i found it impossible to write much. the little i did say, however, was in full accordance with her own feelings, i felt persuaded, and i had no difficulty in believing she would sympathize in all i did express, and in much that i had not words to express. on the subject of the necklace, i did find language to communicate a little, though it was done in the part of the letter where a woman is said to give her real thoughts,--the postscript. in answer to what lucy had said on the subject of my own necklace, i wrote as follows, viz:--"you speak of my reserving the more valuable pearls for one, who, at some future day, may become my wife. i confess this was my own intention, originally; and very pleasant was it to me to fancy that one so dear would wear pearls that had been brought up out of the sea by my own hands. but dearest lucy, all these agreeable and delusive anticipations have vanished. depend on it, i shall never marry. i know that declarations of this sort, in young men of three and twenty, like those of maidens of nineteen, excite a smile oftener than they produce belief; but i do not say this without reflection, and, i may add, without feeling. she whom i once did hope to persuade to marry me, although much my friend, is not accustomed to view me with the eyes that lead to love. we were brought together under circumstances that have probably induced her to regard me more as a brother than as a suitor, and while the golden moments have passed away, her affections have become the property of another. i resemble, in this particular at least, our regretted grace, and am not likely to change. my nature may be sterner, and my constitution stronger, than those of my poor sister proved to be, but i feel i cannot love twice; not as i have, and still do love, most certainly. why should i trouble you with all this, however? i know you will not accept of the necklace--though so ready to give me your own last piece of gold, when i went to sea, you have ever been so fastidious as to refuse every thing from us that had the least appearance of a pecuniary obligation--and it is useless to say more about it. i have no right to trouble you with my griefs, especially at a moment when i know your affectionate heart is suffering so deeply from our recent loss." i will confess that, while writing this, i fancied i was making a sort of half-declaration to lucy; one that might, at least, give her some faint insight into the real state of my heart; and i had a melancholy satisfaction in thinking that the dear girl might, by these means, learn how much i had prized and still did prize her. it was only a week later, while pondering over what i had written, the idea occurred to me that every syllable i had said would apply just as well to emily merton as to lucy hardinge. peculiar circumstances had made me intimately acquainted with our young english friend, and these circumstances might well have produced the very results i had mentioned. we all believed emily's affections to be engaged to rupert, who must have succeeded during my absence at sea. a modest and self-distrusting nature, like that of lucy's, would be very apt to turn to any other than herself in quest of the original of my picture. these letters occupied me for hours. that to lucy, in particular, was very long, and it was not written wholly without care. when all were done, and sealed, and enveloped to the address of the post-master, i went on deck. the pilot and marble had not been idle while i had been below, for i found the ship just weathering the south-west spit, a position that enabled me to make a fair wind of it past the hook and out to sea. certainly i was in no haste to quit home. i was leaving my native land, clawbonny, the grave of my sister, and lucy, dearest lucy, all behind me; and, at such an instant, one feels the ties that are about to be separated. still, every seaman is anxious for an offing, and glad was i to see the head of the dawn pointing in the right direction, with her yards nearly square, and a fore-top-mast studding-sail set. the pilot was all activity, and marble, cool, clear-headed in his duty, and instinctively acquainted with everything belonging to a vessel, was just the man to carry out his views to his heart's content. the ship went, rising and falling on the swells of the ocean, that now began to make themselves felt, past the light and the low point of the hook within a few minutes after we had squared away, and, once more, the open ocean lay before us. i could not avoid smiling at neb, just as we opened the broad waste of waters, and got an unbroken view of the rolling ocean to the southward. the fellow was on the main-top-sail yard, having just run out, and lashed the heel of a top-gallant-studding-sail boom, in order to set the sail. before he lay in to the mast, he raised his herculean frame, and took a look to windward. his eyes opened, his nostrils dilated, and i fancied he resembled a hound that scented game in the gale, as he snuffed the sea-air which came fanning his glistening face, filled with the salts and peculiar flavours of the ocean. i question if neb thought at all of chloe, for the next hour or two! as soon as we got over the bar, i gave the pilot my package, and he got into his boat. it was not necessary to shorten sail in order to do this, for the vessel's way did not exceed five knots. "do you see the sail, hereaway in the south-eastern board," said the pilot, as he went over the side, pointing towards a white speck on the ocean; "take care of that fellow, and give him as wide a berth as possible, or he may give you a look at halifax, or bermuda." "halifax, or bermuda! i have nothing to do with either and shall not go there. why should i fear that sail?" "on account of your cargo, and on account of your men. that is his majesty's ship leander; she has been off here, now, more than a week. the inward-bound craft say she is acting under some new orders, and they name several vessels that have been seen heading north-east after she had boarded them. this new war is likely to lead to new troubles on the coast, and it is well for all outward-bound ships to be on the look-out." "_his majesty's_ ship" was a singular expression for an american to use, towards any sovereign, twenty years after the independence of the country was acknowledged. but, it was common then, nor has it ceased entirely even among the newspapers of the present hour; so much harder is it to substitute a new language than to produce a revolution. notwithstanding this proof of bad taste in the pilot, i did not disregard his caution. there had been certain unpleasant rumours, up in town for more than a month, that the two great belligerents would be apt to push each other into the old excesses, england and france at that day having such a monopoly of the ocean as to render them somewhat independent of most of the old-fashioned notions of the rights of neutrals. as for america, she was cursed with the cant of economy--an evil that is apt to produce as many bad consequences as the opposite vice, extravagance. the money paid as _interest_ on the sums expended in the war of , might have maintained a navy that would have caused both belligerents to respect her rights, and thereby saved the principal entirely, to say nothing of all the other immense losses dependent on an interrupted trade; but demagogues were at work with their raven throats, and it is not reasonable to expect that the masses can draw very just distinctions on the subject of remote interests, when present expenditure is the question immediately before them. it is true, i remember a modern french logician, who laid down the dogma that the tendency of democracies being to excesses, if you give a people the power, they would tax themselves to death; but, however true this theory may be in the main, it certainly is not true _quoad_ the good citizens of the great model republic. it was bad enough to be accursed with a spurious economy; but this was not the heaviest grievance that then weighed upon the national interests. the demon of faction, party spirit, was actively at work in the country; and it was almost as rare to find a citizen who was influenced purely by patriotic and just views, as it would be to find an honest man in the galleys. the nation, as a rule, was either english or french. some swore by the first consul, and some by billy pitt. as for the commercial towns, taken in connection with the upper classes, these were little more than so many reflections of english feeling, exaggerated and rendered still more factitious, by distance. those who did not swallow all that the english tories chose to pour down their throats, took the _pillules napoleons_ without gagging. if there were exceptions, they were very few, and principally among travelled men--pilgrims who, by approaching the respective idols, had discovered they were made by human hands! impressment at sea, and out of neutral vessels, was revived, as a matter of course, with the renewal of the war and all american ships felt the expediency, of avoiding cruisers that might deprive them of their men. strange as it may seem, a large and leading class of americans justified this claim of the english, as it was practised on board their own country's vessels! what will not men defend when blinded and excited by faction? as this practice was to put the mariner on the defensive, and to assume that every man was an englishman who could not prove, out on the ocean, a thousand miles from land perhaps, that he was an american, it followed that english navy officers exercised a jurisdiction over foreigners and under a foreign flag, that would not be tolerated in the lord high chancellor himself, in one of the streets of london; that of throwing the burthen of proving himself innocent, on the accused party! there was an abundance of other principles that were just as obvious, and just as unanswerable as this, which were violated by the daily practices of impressment, but they all produced no effect on the members of congress and public writers that sustained the right of the english, who as blindly espoused one side of the main question as their opponents espoused the other. men acting under the guidance of factions are not _compos mentis_. i think i may say, without boasting unreasonably of my own good sense, that i have kept myself altogether aloof from the vortex of parties, from boyhood to the present hour. my father had been a federalist, but a federalist a good deal cooled off, from having seen foreign countries, and no attempts had ever been made to make me believe that black was white in the interest of either faction. i knew that impressment from foreign vessels, out of the waters of great britain at least, could be defended on no other ground but that of power; and as for colonial produce, and all the subtleties that were dependent on its transportation, i fancied that a neutral had a perfect right to purchase of one belligerent and sell to another, provided he found it his interest so to do, and he violated no positive--not paper--blockade, or did not convey articles that are called contraband of war. with these views, then, it is not surprising that i easily came into the pilot's opinion, and determined to give the leander a sufficient berth, as sailors express it. the leander was a fifty, on two decks, a very silly sort of a craft; though she had manfully played her part at the nile, and on one or two other rather celebrated occasions, and was a good vessel of the build. still, i felt certain the dawn could get away from her, under tolerably favourable circumstances, the leander afterwards became notorious, on the american coast, in consequence of a man killed in a coaster by one of her shot, within twenty miles of the spot where i now saw her; an event that had its share in awakening the feeling that produced the war of ; a war of which the effects are just beginning to be made manifest in the policy of the republic: a fact, by-the-way, that is little understood, at home or abroad. the leander was a fast ship of her kind, but the dawn was a fast ship of any kind; and i had great faith in her. it is true, the fifty had the advantage of the wind; but she was a long way off, well to the southward, and might have something in sight that could not be seen even from our top-gallant yards, whither neb was sent to take a look at the horizon. our plan was soon laid. the south side of long island trending a little to the north of east, i ordered the ship to be steered east by south, which, with the wind at south-south-west, gave me an opportunity to carry all our studding-sails. the soundings were as regular as the ascent on the roof of a shed, or on that of a graded lawn; and the land in sight less than two leagues distant. in this manner we ran down the coast, with about six knots' way on the ship, as soon as we got from under the jersey shore. in less than an hour, or when we were about four leagues from sandy hook light, the englishman wore short round, and made sail to cut us off. by this time, he was just forward of our weather beam, a position that did not enable him to carry studding-sails on both sides; for, had he kept off enough for this, he would have fallen into our wake; while, by edging away to close with us, his after-sails becalmed the forward, and this at the moment when every thing of ours pulled like a team of well-broken cart-horses. notwithstanding all this, we had a nervous afternoon's and night's work of it. these old fifties are great travellers off the wind; and more than once i fancied the leander was going to lay across my bows, as she did athwart those of the frenchman, at the nile. the dawn, however, was not idle, and, as the wind stood all that day, throughout the night, and was fresher, though more to the southward, than it had hitherto been, next morning, i had the satisfaction of seeing montauk a little on my lee-bow, at sunrise, while my pursuer was still out of gun-shot on my weather beam. marble and i now held a consultation on the subject of the best mode of proceeding. i was half disposed to let the leander come up, and send a boat on board us. what had we to fear? we were bound to hamburg, with a cargo, one half of which came from the english, while the other half came from french islands.--but what of that? marble, however, would not listen to such a project. he affirmed that he was a good pilot in all the sounds, and that it would be better to risk everything, rather than let that fifty close with us. "keep the ship away, for montauk, sir," exclaimed the mate--"keep her away for montauk, and let that chap follow us if he dare! there's a reef or two, inside, that i'll engage to lead him on, should he choose to try the game, and that will cure him of his taste for chasing a yankee." "will you engage, moses, to carry the ship over the shoals, if i will do as you desire, and go inside?" "i'll carry her into any port, east of block island, cap tain wallingford. though new york born, as it now turns out, i'm 'down east' edicated, and have got a 'coasting pilot' of my own in my head." this settled the matter, and i came to the resolution to stand on. chapter xii. "the wind blows fair, the vessel feels the pressure of the rising breeze, and, swiftest of a thousand keels she leaps to the careering seas--" willis. half an hour later, things drew near a crisis. we had been obliged to luff a little, in order to clear a reef that even marble admitted lay off montauk, while the leander had kept quite as much away, with a view to close. this brought the fifty so near us, directly on our weather beam, as to induce her commander to try the virtue of gunpowder. her bow-gun was fired, and its shot, only a twelve-pounder, richochèd until it fairly passed our fore-foot, distant a hundred yards, making its last leap from the water precisely in a line with the stem of the dawn. this was unequivocal evidence that the game could not last much longer, unless the space between the two vessels should be sensibly widened. fortunately, we now opened montauk fort, and the option was offered us of doubling that point, and entering the sound, or of standing oh towards block island, and putting the result on our heels. after a short consultation with marble, i decided on the first. one of the material advantages possessed by a man-of-war in a chase with a merchant vessel, is in the greater velocity with which her crew can make or take in sail. i knew that the moment we began to touch our braces, tacks and sheets, that the leander would do the same, and that she would effect her objects in half the time in which we could effect ours. nevertheless, the thing was to be done, and we set about the preparations with care and assiduity. it was a small matter to round in our weather braces, until the yards were nearly square, but the rigging out of her studding-sail booms, and the setting of the sails, was a job to occupy the dawn's people several minutes. marble suggested that by edging gradually away, we should bring the leander so far on our quarter as to cause the after-sails to conceal what we were about forward, and that we might steal a march on our pursuers by adopting this precaution. i thought the suggestion a good one, and the necessary orders were given to carry it out. any one might be certain that the englishman's glasses were levelled on us the whole time. some address was used, therefore, in managing to get our yards in without showing the people at the braces. this was done by keeping off first, and then by leading the ropes as far forward as possible, and causing the men to haul on them, seated on deck. in this manner we got our yards nearly square, or as much in as our new course required, when we sent hands aloft, forward, to get out the lee booms. but we reckoned without our host. john bull was not to be caught in that way. the hands were hardly in the lee fore rigging, before i saw the fifty falling off to our course, her yards squared, and signs aboard her that she had larboard studding sails as well as ourselves. the change of course had one good effect, however: it brought our pursuer so far on our quarter, that, standing at the capstan, i saw him through the mizen rigging. this took the dawn completely from under the leander's broadside, leaving us exposed to merely four or five of her forward guns, should she see fit to use them. whether the english were reluctant to resort to such very decided means of annoyance, so completely within the american waters, as we were clearly getting to be, or whether they had so much confidence in their speed, as to feel no necessity for firing, i never knew; but they did not have any further recourse to shot. as might have been foreseen, the fifty had her extra canvass spread some time before we could open ours, and i fancied she showed the advantage thus obtained in her rate of sailing. she certainly closed with us, though we closed much faster with the land: still, there was imminent danger of her overhauling us before we could round the point, unless some decided step were promptly taken to avoid it. "on the whole, mr. marble," i said, after my mates and myself had taken a long and thoughtful look at the actual state of things--"on the whole, mr. marble, it may be well to take in our light sails, haul our wind, and let the man-of-war come up with us. we are honest folk, and there is little risk in his seeing all we have to show him." "never think of it!" cried the mate. "after this long pull, the fellow will be as savage as a bear with a sore head. he'd not leave a hand on board us, that can take his trick at the wheel; and it's ten chances to one that he would send the ship to halifax, under some pretence or other, that the sugars are not sweet enough, or that the coffee was grown in a french island, and tastes french. no--no--captain wallingford--here's the wind at sou'-sou'-west, and we're heading nothe-east, and-by-nothe-half-nothe already, with that fellow abaft the mizen riggin'; as soon as we get a p'int more to the nor'ard, we'll have him fairly in our wake." "ay, that will do very well as a theory, but what can we make of it in practice? we are coming up towards montauk at the rate of eight knots, and you have told me yourself there is a reef off that point, directly towards which we must this moment be standing. at this rate, fifteen minutes might break us up into splinters." i could see that marble was troubled, by the manner in which he rolled his tobacco about, and the riveted gaze he kept on the water ahead. i had the utmost confidence in his seaman-like prudence and discretion, while i knew he was capable of suggesting anything a ship could possibly perform, in an emergency that called for such an exercise of decision. at that moment, he forgot our present relations, and went back, as he often did when excited, to the days of our greater equality, and more trying scenes. "harkee, miles," he said, "the reef is dead ahead of us, but, there is a passage between it and the point. i went through that passage in the revvylution-war, in chase of an english west injyman, and stood by the lead the whole way, myself. keep her away, neb--keep her away, another pint: so--steady--very well, dyce (anglice, thus)--keep her so, and let john bull follow us, if he dare." "you should be very sure of your channel, mr. marble," i said gravely, "to take so much responsibility on yourself. remember my all is embarked in this ship, and the insurance will not be worth a sixpence, if we are lost running through such a place as this in broad daylight. reflect a moment, i beg of you, if not certain of what you do." "and what will the insurance be worth, ag'in halifax, or bermuda? i'll put my life on the channel, and would care more for _your_ ship, miles, than my own. if you love me, stand on, and let us see if that lubberly make-believe two-decker dare follow." i was fain to comply, though i ran a risk that i find impossible, now, to justify to myself. i had my cousin john wallingford's property in charge, as well as my own, or what was quite as bad, i placed clawbonny in imminent jeopardy. still, my feelings were aroused, and to the excitement of a race, was added the serious but vague apprehensions all american seamen felt, in that day, of the great belligerents. it is a singular proof of human justice, that the very consequences of these apprehensions are made matter of reproach against them. it is not my intention to dwell further on the policy of england and france, during their great contest for superiority, than is necessary to the narrative of events connected with my own adventures; but a word in behalf of american seamen in passing, may not be entirely out of place or season. men are seldom wronged without being calumniated, and the body of men of which i was then one, did not escape that sort of reparation for all the grievances they endured, which is dependent on demonstrating that the injured deserve their sufferings. we have been accused of misleading english cruisers by false information, of being liars to an unusual degree, and of manifesting a grasping love of gold, beyond the ordinary cupidity of man. now, i will ask our accusers, if it were at all extraordinary that they who felt themselves daily aggrieved, should resort to the means within their power to avenge themselves? as for veracity, no one who has reached my present time of life, can be ignorant that truth is the rarest thing in the world, nor are those who have been the subjects of mystifications got up in payment for wrongs, supposed or real, the most impartial judges of character or facts. as for the charge of an undue love of money, it is unmerited. money will do less in america than in any other country of my acquaintance, and infinitely less than in either france or england. there is truth in this accusation, as applied either to a particular class, or to the body of the american people, only in one respect. it is undeniable that, as a new nation, with a civilization that is wanting in so many of its higher qualities, while it is already so far advanced in those which form the basis of national greatness, money does not meet with the usual competition among us. the institutions, too, by dispensing with hereditary consideration, do away with a leading and prominent source of distinction that is known to other systems, thus giving to riches an exclusive importance, that is rather apparent, however, than real. i acknowledge, that little or no consideration is yet given among us to any of the more intellectual pursuits, the great bulk of the nation regarding literary men, artists, even professional men, as so many public servants, that are to be used like any other servants, respecting them and their labours only as they can contribute to the great stock of national wealth and renown. this is owing, in part, to the youth of a country in which most of the material foundation was so recently to be laid, and in part to the circumstance that men, being under none of the factitious restraints of other systems, coarse and vulgar-minded declaimers make themselves heard and felt to a degree that would not be tolerated elsewhere. notwithstanding all these defects, which no intelligent, and least of all, no travelled american should or can justly deny, i will maintain that gold is not one tittle more the goal of the american, than it is of the native of other active and energetic communities. it is true, there is little _besides_ gold, just now, to aim at in this country, but the great number of young men who devote themselves to letters and the arts, under such unfavourable circumstances, a number greatly beyond the knowledge of foreign nations, proves it is circumstances, and not the grovelling propensities of the people themselves, that give gold a so nearly undisputed ascendency. the great numbers who devote themselves to politics among us, certainly any thing but a money-making pursuit, proves that it is principally the want of other avenues to distinction that renders gold apparently the sole aim of american existence. to return from this touch of philosophy to our ships. the progress of the dawn soon left us no choice in the course to be steered. we could see by the charts that the reef was already outside of us, and there was now no alternative between going ashore, or going through marble's channel. we succeeded in the last, gaining materially on the leander by so doing, the englishman hauling his wind when he thought himself as near to the danger as was prudent, and giving up the chase. i ran on to the northward an hour longer, when, finding our pursuer was hull down to the southward and westward, i took in our larboard studding-sails, and brought the ship by the wind, passing out to sea again, to the eastward of block island. great was the exultation on board the dawn at this escape; for escape it proved to be. next morning, at sunrise, we saw a sail a long distance to the westward, which we supposed to be the leander; but she did not give chase. marble and the people were delighted at having given john bull the slip; while i learned caution from the occurrence; determining not to let another vessel of war get near enough to trouble me again, could i possibly prevent it. from this time, for twenty days, the passage of the dawn had nothing unusual. we crossed the banks in forty-six, and made as straight a course for the western extremity of england, as the winds would allow. for several days, i was uncertain whether to go north-about, or not, believing that i should fall in with fewer cruisers by doubling scotland, than by running up channel. the latter was much the nearest route; though so much depends on the winds, that i determined to let these last govern. until we had made two-thirds of our distance across the ocean, the winds had stood very much at south-west; and, though we had no heavy weather, our progress was good; but in ° east from greenwich, we got north-easters, and our best tack being the larboard, i stood for ten days to the southward and eastward. this brought us into the track of every thing going to, or coming from, the mediterranean; and, had we stood on far enough, we should have made the land somewhere in the bay of biscay. i knew we should find the ocean dotted with english cruisers, however, as soon as we got into the european waters, and we tacked to the north-west, when about a hundred leagues from the land. the thirty-third day out proved one of great importance to me. the wind had shifted to south-west, and it was blowing fresh, with very thick weather--rain, mingled with a fine mist, that often prevented one's seeing a quarter of a mile from the ship. the change occurred at midnight, and there was every prospect of the wind's standing until it shoved us into the chops of the channel, from which we were then distant about four hundred miles, according to my own calculation. marble had the watch at four o'clock, and he sent for me, that i might decide on the course to be steered and the sail to be carried. the course was n. n. east; but, as for the sail, i determined to stand on under our top-sails and fore-course, spanker and jib, until i could get a look by daylight. when the sun was fairly up, there was no change, and i gave orders to get along some of the larger studding-sails, and to set the main-top-gallant sail, having my doubts whether the spars would bear any more canvass, under the stiff breeze that was blowing. "this is no great distance from the spot where we surprised the lady of nantes, captain wallingford," marble observed to me, as i stood overlooking the process of bending a fore-top-mast studding-sail, in which he was engaged with his own hands; "nor was the weather any thicker then than it is now, though that was a haze, and this is a mist." "you are out of your longitude a few hundred miles, master moses, but the comparison is well enough, otherwise. we have twice the wind and sea we had then, moreover, and that was dry weather, while this is, to speak more gingerly, a little moist." "ay, ay, sir; there is just that difference. them were pleasant days, captain wallingford--i say nothing ag'in these--but them 'ere _were_ pleasant times, as all in the crisis must allow." "perhaps we shall think the same of these some five or six years hence." "well, that's natur', i must confess. it's amazing how the last v'yge hangs in a man's memory, and how little we think of the present! i suppose the lord made us all of this disposition, for it's sartain we all manifest it. come, bear a hand neb, on that fore-yard, and let us see the length of the stun-sail boom." but, neb, contrary to his habits, stood upright on the yard, holding on by the lift, and looking over the weather leach of the top-sail, apparently at some object that either was just then visible, or which had just before been visible. "what is it?" cried marble, struck with the black's attitude and manner. "what d'ye see?" "i don't see him now, sir; nuttin' now; but dere _was_ a ship." "where-away?" i demanded. "off, here, masser mile--larboard bow, well forrard; look sharp and soon see him, yourself, sir." sharp enough we did look, all hands of us on deck, and, in less than a minute, we caught a pretty good view of the stranger from the forecastle. he might have been visible to us half a minute, in one of those momentary openings in the mist, that were constantly occurring, and which enabled the eye to command a range around the ship of half a mile, losing it again, however, almost as soon as it was obtained. notwithstanding the distance of time, i can perfectly recall the appearance of that vessel, seen as she was, for a moment only, and seen too so unexpectedly. it was a frigate, as frigates then were; or a ship of that medium size between a heavy sloop-of-war and a two-decker, which, perhaps, offers the greatest proportions for activity and force. we plainly saw her cream-coloured, or as it is more usual to term it, her _yellow_ streak, dotted with fourteen ports, including the bridle, and gleaming brightly in contrast to the dark and glistening hull, over which the mist and the spray of the ocean cast a species of sombre lustre. the stranger was under his three top-sails, spanker and jib, each of the former sails being double reefed. his courses were in the brails. as the wind did not blow hard enough to bring a vessel of any size to more than one reef, even on a bow-line, this short canvass proved that the frigate was on her cruising ground, and was roaming about in quest of anything that might offer. this was just the canvass to give a cruiser a wicked look, since it denoted a lazy preparation, which might, in an instant, be improved into mischief. as all cruising vessels, when on their stations doing nothing, reef at night, and the hour was still early, it was possible we had made this ship before her captain, or first-lieutenant, had made his appearance on deck. there she was, at all events, dark, lustrous, fair in her proportions, her yards looming square and symmetrical, her canvass damp, but stout and new, the copper bright as a tea-kettle, resembling a new cent, her hammock-cloths with the undress appearance this part of a vessel of war usually offers at night, and her quarter-deck and forecastle guns frowning through the lanyards of her lower rigging like so many slumbering bull-dogs muzzled in their kennels. the frigate was on an easy bow-line, or, to speak more correctly, was standing directly across our fore-foot, with her yards nearly square. in a very few minutes, each keeping her present course, the two ships would have passed within pistol-shot of each other. i scarce knew the nature of the sudden impulse which induced me to call out to the man at the wheel to starboard his helm. it was probably from instinctive apprehension that it were better for a neutral to have as little to do with a belligerent as possible, mingled with a presentiment that i might lose some of my people by impressment. call out i certainly did, and the dawn's bows came up to the wind, looking to the westward, or in a direction contrary to that in which the frigate was running, as her yards were square, or nearly so. as soon as the weather leeches touched, the helm was righted, and away we went with the wind abeam, with about as much breeze as we wanted for the sail we carried. the dawn might have been half a mile to windward of the frigate when this manoeuvre was put in execution. we were altogether ignorant whether our own ship had been seen; but the view we got of the stranger satisfied us that he was an englishman. throughout the whole of the long wars that succeeded the french revolution, the part of the ocean which lay off the chops of the channel was vigilantly watched by the english, and it was seldom, indeed, a vessel could go over it, without meeting more or less of their cruisers. i was not without a hope that the two ships would pass each other, without our being seen. the mist became very thick just as we hauled up, and, had this change of course taken place after we were shut in, the chances were greatly in favour of its being effected. once distant a mile from the frigate, there was little danger of her getting a glimpse of us, since, throughout all that morning, i was satisfied we had not got an horizon with that much of diameter. as a matter of course, the preparations with the studding-sails were suspended. neb was ordered to lay aloft, as high as the cross-trees, and to keep a vigilant look-out, while all eyes on deck were watching as anxiously, in the mist, as we had formerly watched for the shadowy outline of _la dame de nantes_. marble's long experience told him best where to look, and he caught the next view of the frigate. she was directly under our lee, gliding easily along under the same canvass; the reefs still in, the courses in the brails, and the spanker rolled up, as it had been for the night. "by george," cried the mate, "all them johnny bulls are still asleep, and they haven't seen us! if we can give this fellow the slip, as we did the old leander, captain wallingford, the dawn will become as famous as the flying dutchman! see, there he jogs on, as if going to mill, or to church, and no more stir aboard him than there is in a quaker meetin'! how my good old soul of a mother would enjoy this!" there the frigate went, sure enough, without the smallest sign of any alarm having been given on board her. the vessels had actually passed each other, and the mist was thickening again. presently, the veil was drawn, and the form of that beautiful ship was entirely hid from sight. marble rubbed his hands with delight; and all our people began to joke at the expense of the englishman. 'if a merchantman could see a man-of-war,' it was justly enough said, 'a man-of-war ought certainly to see a merchantman.' her look-outs must have all been asleep, or it would not have been possible for us to pass so near, under the canvass we carried, and escape undiscovered. most of the dawn's crew were native americans, though there were four or five europeans among them. of these last, one was certainly an englishman, and (as i suspected) a deserter from a public ship; and the other, beyond all controversy, was a plant of the emerald isle. these two men were particularly delighted, though well provided with those veracious documents called protections, which, like beggars' certificates, never told anything but truth; though, like beggars' certificates, they not unfrequently fitted one man as well as another. it was the well-established laxity in the character of this testimony, that gave the english officers something like a plausible pretext for disregarding all evidence in the premises. their mistake was in supposing they had a right to make a man prove anything on board a foreign ship; while that of america was, in permitting her citizens to be arraigned before foreign judges, under any conceivable circumstances. if england wanted her own men, let her keep them within her own jurisdiction; not attempt to follow them into the jurisdiction of neutral states. well, the ship had passed; and i began myself to fancy that we were quit of a troublesome neighbour, when neb came down the rigging, in obedience to an order from the mate. "relieve the wheel, master clawbonny," said marble, who often gave the negro his patronymic, "we may want some of your touches, before we reach the foot of the danse. which way was john bull travelling when you last saw him?" "he goin' eastward, sir."--neb was never half as much "nigger" at sea, as when he was on shore,--there being something in his manly calling that raised him nearer to the dignity of white men.--"but, sir, he was gettin' his people ready to make sail." "how do you know that?--no such thing, sir; all hands were asleep, taking their second naps." "well, you see, misser marble; den you _know_, sir." neb grinned as he said this; and i felt persuaded he had seen something that he understood, but which very possibly he could not explain; though it clearly indicated that john bull was not asleep. we were not left long in doubt on this head. the mist opened again, and, distant from us about three-quarters of a mile, bearing on our lee quarter, we got another look at the frigate, and a look that satisfied everybody what she was about. the englishman was in stays, in the very act of hauling his head-yards, a certain sign he was a quick and sure-working fellow, since this manoeuvre had been performed against a smart sea, and under double-reefed top-sails. he must have made us, just as we lost sight of him, and was about to shake out his reefs. on this occasion, the frigate may have been visible from our decks three minutes. i watched all her movements, as the cat watches the mouse. in the first place her reefs were shaken out, as the ship's bows fell off far enough to get the sea on the right side of them, and her top-sails appeared to me to be mast-headed by instinct, or as the bird extends its wings. the fore and main-top-gallant sails were fluttering in the breeze at this very moment,--it blew rather too fresh for the mizen,--and then their bosoms were distended, and their bow-lines hauled. how the fore and main-tacks got aboard i could not tell, though it was done while my eyes were on the upper sails. i caught a glimpse of the fore-sheet, however, as the clew was first flapping violently, and then was brought under the restraint of its own proper, powerful purchase. the spanker had been hauled out previously, to help the ship in tacking. there was no mistaking all this. we were seen, and chased; everything on board the frigate being instantly and accurately trimmed, "full and by." she looked up into our wake, and i knew must soon overtake a heavily-laden ship like the dawn, in the style in which she was worked and handled. under the circumstances, therefore, i motioned marble to follow me aft, where we consulted together, touching our future proceedings. i confess i was disposed to shorten sail, and let the cruiser come alongside; but marble, as usual, was for holding on. "we are bound to hamburg," said the mate, "which lies, hereaway, on our lee-beam, and no man has a right to complain of our steering our course. the mist has shut the frigate in again, and, it being very certain he will overhaul us on a bow-line, i advise you, miles, to lay the yards perfectly square, edge away two points more, and set the weather stun'-sails. if we do not open john very soon again, we may be off three or four miles to leeward before he learns where we are, and then, you know, a 'starn-chase' is always a 'long-chase.'" this was good advice, and i determined to follow it. it blew rather fresh at the instant, and the dawn began to plunge through the seas at a famous rate as soon as she felt the drag of the studding-sails. we were now running on a course that made an obtuse angle with that of the frigate, and there was the possibility of so far increasing our distance as to get beyond the range of the openings of the mist, ere our expedient were discovered. so long did the density of the atmosphere continue, indeed, that my hopes were beginning to be strong, just as one of our people called out "the frigate!" this time she was seen directly astern of us, and nearly two miles distant! such had been our gain, that ten minutes longer would have carried us clear. as we now saw her, i felt certain she would soon see us, eyes being on the look-out on board her, beyond a question. nevertheless, the cruiser was still on a bow-line, standing on the course on which we had been last seen. this lasted but a moment, however. presently the englishman's bow fell off, and by the time he was dead before the wind, we could see his studding-sails flapping in the air, as they were in the act of being distended, by means of halyards, tacks and sheets, all going at once. the mist shut in the ship again before all this could be executed. what was to be done next? marble said, as we were not on our precise course, it might serve a good turn to bring the wind on our starboard quarter, set all the studding-sails we could carry on the same side, and run off east-north-east: i inclined to this opinion, and the necessary changes were made forthwith. the wind and mist increased, and away we went, on a diverging line from the course of the englishman, at the rate of quite ten knots in the hour. this lasted fully forty minutes, and all hands of us fancied we had at last given the cruiser the slip. jokes and chuckling flew about among the men, as usual, and everybody began to feel as happy as success could make us, when the dark veil lifted at the south-west; the sun was seen struggling through the clouds, the vapour dispersed, and gradually the whole curtain which had concealed the ocean throughout that morning arose, extending the view around the ship, little by little, until nothing limited it but the natural horizon. the anxiety with which we watched this slow rising of the curtain need scarcely be described. every eye was turned eagerly in the direction in which its owner expected to find the frigate, and great was our satisfaction as mile after mile opened in the circle around us, without bringing her beautiful proportions within its range. but this could not last for ever, there not being sufficient time to carry so large a vessel over the curvature of the ocean's surface. as usual, marble saw her first. she had fairly passed to leeward of us, and was quite two leagues distant, driving ahead with the speed of a race-horse. with a clear horizon, an open ocean, a stiff breeze, and hours of daylight, it was hopeless to attempt escape from as fast a vessel as the stranger, and i now determined to put the dawn on her true course, and trust altogether to the goodness of my cause: heels being out of the question. the reader who will do me the favour to peruse the succeeding chapter, will learn the result of this resolution. chapter xiii. "whom have we here? buckingham, to disturb the king hath sent him, sure: i must dissemble." _king henry vi_. at first, the frigate took single reefs in her top-sails, set topgallant-sails over them, and hauled up on taut bow-lines. but seeing no signs of our studding-sails coming down, she shook out her reefs, squared her yards, set top-mast studding-sails, and kept off to a course that would be certain to intercept us. she was up on our line of sailing some little time before we got down to her, and she kept standing off and on, hauling up her courses, and furling her topgallant-sails and hauling down all of her light sails, the jib excepted as for the dawn, she kept steadily on, carrying everything she could bear. we had top-mast and lower studding-sails, and not a tack or sheet had been touched when we got within a quarter of a mile of the frigate. the englishman now showed his colours, when we let him see the stars and stripes. still no sail was touched on board us. as if surprised at our obstinacy, john bull let fly a chase-gun, taking good care not to send the shot very near us. i thought it time, now, to shorten sail and to pretend to see him. we began to haul down our studding-sails, merchant-fashion, and were fairly alongside of the frigate before even this preliminary step to heaving-to was effected. as we approached, the frigate bore up, and ran off in company with us, keeping a hundred fathoms distance from us, and watching us closely. at this instant, i ordered the topgallant-sails settled on the caps, as a sign we intended to let him board us. at length, having reduced the sail to the three top-sails, reefed, i hove-to the dawn, and waited for a visit from the englishman's boat. as soon as the frigate saw us fairly motionless, she shot up on our weather quarter, half a cable's length distant, swung her long, saucy-looking yards, and lay-to herself. at the same instant her lee-quarter boat dropped into the water, with the crew in it, a boy of a mid-shipman scrambled down the ship's side and entered it also, a lieutenant followed, when away the cockle of a thing swept on the crest of a sea, and was soon pulling round under our stern. i stood on the lee quarter, examining my visiters, as they struggled against the swell, in order to get a boat-hook into our main chains. the men were like any other man-of-war's men, neat, sturdy, and submissive in air. the reefer was a well-dressed boy, evidently a gentleman's son; but the lieutenant was one of those old weather-beaten sea-dogs, who are seldom employed in boats, unless something more than common is to be done. he was a man of forty, hard-featured, pock-marked, red-faced, and scowling. i afterwards ascertained he was the son of some underling about the portsmouth dock-yard, who had worked his way up to a lieutenancy, and owed his advancement principally to his readiness in impressing seamen. his name was sennit. we threw mr. sennit a rope, as a matter of course, and marble met him at the gangway with the usual civilities. i was amused with the meeting between these men, who had strictly that analogy to each other which is well described as "diamond cut diamond." each was dogmatical, positive, and full of nautical conceit, in his own fashion; and each hated the other's country as heartily as man could hate, while both despised frenchmen. but sennit knew a mate from a master, at a glance; and, without noticing marble's sea-bow, a slight for which marble did not soon forgive him, he walked directly aft to me, not well pleased, as i thought, that a ship-master had neglected to be at the gangway to meet a sea lieutenant. "your servant, sir," commenced mr. sennit, condescending to notice my bow; "your servant, sir; i suppose we owe the pleasure of your company, just now, to the circumstance of the weather's clearing." this sounded hostile from the go off; and i was determined to give as good as i received. "quite likely, sir," was my answer, uttered as coolly as i could speak--"i do not think you got much the advantage, as long as there was thick weather." "ay, you 're a famous fellow at hide and go seek, and i do not doubt would make a long chase in a dark night. but his majesty's ship, speedy, is not to be dodged by a yankee." "so it would seem, sir, by your present success." "men seldom run away without there is a cause for it. it's my business to find out the reason why you have attempted it; so, sir, i will thank you for the name of your ship, to begin with?" "the dawn, of new york." "ay, full-blooded yankee--i knew you were new england, by your tricks." "new york is not in new england; nor do _we_ call a new york ship, a yankee," put in marble. "ay, ay--if one were to believe all you mates from the t' other side, say, he would soon fancy that king george held his throne by virtue of a commission from president washington." "president washington is dead, heaven bless him!" retorted marble--"and if one were to believe half of what you english say, he would soon fancy that president jefferson held his office as one of king george's waiting men." i made a sign for marble to be silent, and intimated to the lieutenant i was ready to answer any further inquiries he wished to make. sennit did not proceed, however, without giving a significant look at the mate, which to me, seemed to say, "i have pressed a mate in my time." "well, sir, the dawn, of new york," he continued, noting the name in his pocket-book--"how are you called yourself?" "the dawn, of new york, miles wallingford, master." "miles wallingford, master. where from, whither bound, and with what laden?" "from new york; bound to hamburg; cargo sugars, coffee, and cochineal." "a very valuable cargo, sir," observed mr. sennit, a little drily. "i wish for your sake, it had been going to any other part of the world, as this last war has sent the french into that part of germany, and hamburg is suspected of being rather too much under boney's influence." "and were we bound to bordeaux, sir, what power have you to stop a neutral, at this distance at sea?" "if you put it on _power_, mr. wallingford, you depend on a crutch that will betray you. we have power enough to eat you, should that be necessary--i suppose you mean _right."_ "i shall not dispute with you, sir, about words." "well, to prove to you that i am as amicably disposed as yourself, i will say no more on the subject. with your permission, i will now examine your papers; and to show you that i feel myself among friends, i will first send my own boat back to the speedy." i was infinitely disgusted with this man's manner. it had the vulgar sort of witticism about even his air, that he so much affected in his speech; the whole being deformed by a species of sly malignancy, that rendered him as offensive as he seemed to me to be dangerous. i could not refuse to let a belligerent look at my papers, however, and went below to get them, while sennit gave some private orders to his reefer, and sent him away to the frigate. while on this subject, the reader must excuse an old man's propensity to gossip, if i say a word on the general question of the right of search. as for the pretence that was set up by some of the advocates of impressment out of neutral ships, which laid down the position, that the belligerent being on board in the exercise of an undoubted right to inquire into the character of the ship and cargo, he took with him the right to lay hands on all the subjects of his own sovereign he might happen to find there, it is not worthy of a serious reply. because a man has a right to take the step preliminary to the discharge of an admitted power, as an incident of that power, it does not follow that he can make the incident a principle, and convert it into a justification of acts, unlawful in themselves. on this head, therefore, i shall say nothing, holding it to be beyond dispute among those who are competent to speak on the subject at all. but the abuse of that admitted power to board and ascertain the character of a ship, has created so lively a feeling in us americans, as to induce us to forego some of the wholesome principles that are necessary to the well-being of all civilized nations. it is thus, in my judgment, that we have quite recently and erroneously laid down the doctrine that foreign vessels of war shall not board american ships on the coast of africa, in a time of peace, in order to ascertain their character. on this subject i intend to speak plainly. in the first place, i lay no claim to that spurious patriotism which says, "our country, right or wrong." this may do for the rabble; but it will not do for god, to whom our first and highest obligations are due. neither country, nor man, can justify that which is wrong; and i conceive it to be wrong, in a political if not in a moral sense, to deny a vessel of war the privilege which england here claims. i can see but one plausible argument against it, and that is founded on the abuses which may arise from the practice. but it will not do to anticipate abuses in this instance, more than in any other. every right, whether national or international, may be abused in its exercise; and the argument, if good for anything, is as good against every other right of international law, as it is against this. abuse, after it has occurred, might be a justifiable reason for suspending the exercise of an admitted right, until some remedies were applied to prevent their recurrence, but it can never be urged as a proper argument against the right itself. if abuses occur, we can get them remedied by proper representations; and, if these last fail, we have the usual appeal of nations. as well might it be said, the law of the land shall not be administered, because the sheriff's officers are guilty of abuses, as to say the law of nations shall cease because we apprehend that certain commercial rivalries may induce others to transcend them. when the wrong is done, it will be time enough to seek the remedy. that it is the right of a vessel of war to ascertain the character of a ship at sea, is dependent on her right to arrest a pirate, for instance. in what manner can this be done, if a pirate can obtain impunity, by simply hoisting the flag of some other country, which the cruiser is obliged to respect? all that the latter asks is the power to ascertain if that flag is not an imposition; and this much every regularly commissioned public ship should be permitted to do, in the interests of civilization, and in maintenance of the police of the seas. the argument on the other side goes the length of saying, that a public cruiser is in the situation of a sheriff's officer on shore, who is compelled to arrest his prisoner on his own responsibility. in the first place, it may be questioned if the dogma of the common law which asserts the privilege of the citizen to conceal his name, is worthy of a truly enlightened political freedom. it must not be forgotten that liberty first took the aspect of franchises, in which men sought protection from the abuses of power in any manner they could, and often without regarding the justness of the general principles with which they were connected; confusion in these principles arising as a consequence. but, admitting the dogma of the common law to be as inherently wise, as it is confessedly a practice, there is no parallel in the necessity of the case of an arrest on shore and of an arrest at sea. in the former instance the officer may apply to witnesses;--he has the man before him, and compares him with the description of the criminal; and, should he make an erroneous arrest, under misleading circumstances, his punishment would be merely nominal--in many cases, nothing. but the common law, whilst it gives the subject this protection, does not deny the right of the officer to arrest. it only punishes the abuse of this power, and that is precisely what nations ought to do, in a case of the abuse of the right to examine a merchantman. the vessel of war cannot apply to witnesses, and cannot judge of national character by mere external appearances, since an american-built ship can be sailed by portuguese. the actual necessities of the case are in favour of the present english claim, as well as that great governing principle, which says that no great or principal right can exist, in international law, without carrying with it all the subordinate privileges which are necessary to its discreet exercise. thus much i could not refrain from saying, not that i think john bull is very often right in his controversies with ourselves, but because i think, in this case, he is; and because i believe it far safer, in the long run, for a nation, or an individual, to have justice on his side, than always to carry his point. i was soon on deck, carrying my writing-desk under my arm, mr. sennit preferring to make his examination in the open air, to making it below. he read the clearance and manifest with great attention. afterwards he asked for the shipping articles. i could see that he examined the names of the crew with eagerness, for the man was in his element when adding a new hand to his frigate's crew. "let me see this nebuchadnezzar clawbonny, mr. wallingford," he said, chuckling. "the name has an alias in its very absurdity, and i doubt not i shall see a countryman--perhaps a townsman." "by turning your head, sir, you can easily see the man. he is at the wheel." "a black!--umph--yes; those fellows do sometimes sail under droll titles. i do not think the lad was born at gosport." "he was born in my father's house, sir, and is my slave." "slave! a pretty word in the mouth of a free and independent son of liberty, mr. wallingford. it is lucky you are not bound to that land of despotism, old england, or you might see the fetters fall from about the chap's limbs." i was nettled, for i felt there was some justice in this sarcasm, and this, too, at the very moment i felt it was only half-merited: and not at all, perhaps, from an englishman. but sennit knew as much of the history of my country as he did of his own, having obtained all he had learned of either out of newspapers. nevertheless, i succeeded in keeping silent. "nathan hitchcock; this chap has a suspiciously yankee name; will you let me see _him_, sir," observed the lieutenant. "the chap's name, then, does him no more than justice, for i believe he is strictly what _we_ call a yankee." nathan came aft at the call of the second-mate, and sennit no sooner saw him than he told him to go forward again. it was easy to see that the man was perfectly able to distinguish, by means of the eye alone, between the people of the two countries, though the eye would sometimes deceive even the most practised judges. as the speedy was not much in want of men, he was disposed not to lay his hands on any but his own countrymen. "i shall have to ask you, sir, to muster all your people in the gangway," said sennit, rising, as he passed me the ship's papers. "i am only a supernumerary of the speedy, and i expect we shall soon have the pleasure of seeing her first on board, the honourable mr. powlett. we are a nob ship, having lord harry dermond for our captain, and lots of younger sons in the cock-pit." i cared little who commanded or officered the speedy, but i felt all the degradation of submitting to have my crew mustered by a foreign officer, and this, too, with the avowed object of carrying away such portions of them as he might see fit to decide were british subjects. in my judgment it would have been much more creditable and much wiser for the young hercules to have made an effort to use his club, in resisting such an offensive and unjustifiable assumption of power, than to be setting up doubtful claims to establish principles of public law that will render the exercise of some of the most useful of all international rights perfectly nugatory. i felt a disposition to refuse compliance with sennit's request, and did the result only affect myself i think i should have done so; but, conscious that my men would be the sufferers, i thought it more prudent to comply. accordingly, all the dawn's people were ordered to muster near the quarter-deck. while i endeavour to do justice to principles, i wish to do no injustice to sennit. to own the truth, this man picked out the englishman and irishman as soon as each had answered his first questions. they were ordered to get their things ready to go on hoard the speedy, and i was coolly directed to pay them any wages that might be due. marble was standing near when this command was given; and seeing disgust, most likely, in my countenance, he took on himself the office of replying: "you think accounts should be balanced, then, before these men quit the ship?" he asked, significantly. "i do, sir; and it's my duty to see it done. i will thank you to attend to it at once," returned the lieutenant. "well, sir, that being the case, we shall be receivers, instead of payers. by looking at the shipping articles, you will see that each of these men received fifty dollars, or two months' advance," [seamen's wages were as high, frequently, in that day, as twenty or thirty dollars;] "and quite half of the 'dead-horse' remains to be worked out. we will, therefore, thank his majesty to pay us the odd twenty-five dollars for each of the men." "what countryman are _you_?" demanded the lieutenant, with a menacing look. "cornish, by your impudence: have a care, sir; i have carried off mates, before now, in my day." "i came from the land of tombstones, which is an advantage; as i know the road we all must travel, sooner or later. my name is marble, at your service; and there's a hard natur' under it, as you'll find on trial." just at this moment, the frigate's boat came round her stern, carrying the hon. mr. powlett, or the gentleman whom sennit had announced as her first-lieutenant. i thought the rising anger of the last was a little subdued by the appearance of his senior officers: social position and private rank making even a greater difference between the two, than mere date of commission. sennit suppressed his wrath, therefore; though i make no doubt the resentment he felt at the contumelious manner of my mate, had no little influence on what subsequently occurred. as things were, he waited, before he proceeded any further, for the speedy's boat to come alongside. mr. powlett turned out to be a very different sort of person from his brother lieutenant. there was no mistaking him for anything but a gentleman, or for a sailor. beyond a question, he owed his rank in his ship to family influence, and he was one of those scions of aristocracy (by no means the rule, however, among the high-born of england) who never was fit for anything but a carpet-knight, though trained to the seas. as i afterwards learned, his father held high ministerial rank; a circumstance that accounted for his being the first-lieutenant of a six-and-thirty, at twenty, with a supernumerary lieutenant under him who had been a sailor some years before he was born. but, the captain of the speedy, himself, lord harry dermond, was only four-and-twenty; though he had commanded his ship two years, and fought one very creditable action in her. after making my best bow to mr. powlett, and receiving a very gentleman-like salutation in return, sennit led his brother officer aside, and they had a private conference of some little length together. "i shall not meddle with the crew, sennit," i overheard powlett say, in a sort of complaining tone, as he walked away from his companion. "really, i cannot become the master of a press-gang, though the speedy had to be worked by her officers. you are used to this business, and i leave it all to you." i understood this to be a _carte blanche_ to sennit to carry off as many of my people as he saw fit; there being nothing novel or surprising in men's tolerating in others, acts they would disdain to perform in person. as soon as he left his junior in rank, the youthful first-lieutenant approached me. i call him youthful, for he appeared even younger than he was, though i myself had commanded a ship when only of his own age. it was easy to see that this young man felt he was employed on an affair of some importance. "it is reported to us, on board the speedy, sir," the hon. mr. pewlett commenced, "that you are bound to hamburg?" "to hamburg, sir, as my papers will show." "our government regards all trade with that part of the continent with great distrust, particularly since the late movements of the french. i really wish, sir, you had not been bound to hamburg." "i believe hamburg is still a neutral port, sir; and, if it were not, i do not see why an american should not enter it, until actually blockaded." "ah! these are some of your very peculiar american ideas on such subjects! i cannot agree with you, however, it being my duty to obey my orders. lord harry has desired us to be very rigorous in our examination, and i trust you will understand we must comply, however unpleasant it may be, sir. i understand, now, sugar and coffee are exceedingly suspicious!" "they are very innocent things rightly used, as i hope mine will be." "have you any particular interest in the cargo, captain wallingford?" "only that of owner, sir. both ship and cargo are my own private property." "and you seem to be english, or american--for, i confess myself unable to tell the difference between the people of the two countries, though i dare say there is a very great difference." "i am an american by birth, as have been my ancestors for generations." "i declare that is remarkable! well, i can see no difference. but, if _you_ are american, i do not see why the sugar and coffee are not american, too. lord harry, however, desired us to be very particular about these things, for some reason or other. do you happen to know, now, where this sugar grew?" "the canes of which it was made grew, i believe, in st. domingo." "st. domingo!--is not that a french island?" "certainly, in part, sir; though the spaniards and the negroes dispute the possession with the french." "i declare i must send lord harry word of this! i am exceedingly sorry, captain wallingford, to detain your ship, but my duty requires me to send a young gentleman on board the speedy for orders." as i could urge no plausible objection, the young gentleman was again sent back to the frigate. in the mean time, sennit had not been idle. among my crew were a swede and a prussian, and both these men having acquired their english in london or liverpool, he affected to believe they were natives of the old island, ordering them to get their dunnage ready to go under the pennant. neither of the men, however, was disposed to obey him, and when i joined the group, leaving the hon. mr. powlett waiting the return of his boat, on the quarter-deck, i found the three in a warm discussion on the subject. "i'll tell you what it is, mr. wallingford," sennit cried, as i approached, "we will compromise matters. here are two fellows who are lancashire men, if the truth were known, that pretend to be norwegians, or fins, or to come from some other outlandish country or other, and i wish to place them under his majesty's pennant, where they properly belong; as they are so reluctant to receive this honour, i will consent to take that fine-looking kentish man, who is worth them both put together." as this was said, sennit pointed to tom voorhees, an athletic, handsome young north river man, of dutch extraction, a fellow who had not a drop of english blood in his veins, and the ablest-bodied and the best seaman in the dawn; a fact that the lieutenant's nautical tact had not been slow to detect. "you are asking me to let you have a man who was born within ten miles of myself," i answered, "and whose family i know to be american, for near two centuries." "ay, ay; you're all of _old_ families in america, as everybody knows. the chap is english born, for a hundred guineas; and i could name a spot in kent, not ten miles distant from that where he first saw the light. i do not say, however, you were not his neighbour--for you have a dover look, yourself." "you might be less disposed to pleasantry, sir, were this a thirty-six, or were you and i on shore." sennit gave me a disdainful look, and terminated the affair by ordering voorhees to get his chest ready, and to join the two other men he had pressed. taking example, however, from the swede and the prussian, voorhees walked away, using no measures to obey. as for myself, thoroughly disgusted with this man, a vulgar rogue, i walked aft to the other lieutenant, who was only a gentleman-like dunce. mr. powlett now began to converse of london; and he told me how often he had been at the opera when last in town,--and remarked what an exceedingly delightful _fête champêtre_ was lady somebody's entertainment of that sort. this occupied us until the boat returned, with a very civil request from the captain of the speedy, that i would do him the favour to pay him a visit, bringing with me the ship's papers. as this was what no belligerent had a right to demand, though privateersmen constantly did it, i could comply or not. fancying it might expedite matters, regarding the civility of the request as a good omen, and feeling a desire to deal with principals, in an affair that was very needlessly getting to be serious, i consented to go. marble was called, and formally told to take charge of the ship. i could see a smile of contempt on sennit's face, at this little ceremony, though he made no objection in terms. i had expected that the first-lieutenant would go to the frigate with me, but, after a short consultation with his junior, the last was deputed to do me this honour. sennit now appeared disposed to show me every slight and indignity it was in his power to manifest. like all vulgar-minded men, he could not refrain from maltreating those whom he designed to injure. he made me precede him into the boat, and went up the speedy's side first, himself, on reaching that vessel. his captain's conduct was very different. lord harry was not a very noble _looking_ personage, as your worshippers of rank imagine nobility to appear, but he was decidedly well-mannered; and it was easy enough to see he commanded his own ship, and was admirably fitted so to do. i have had occasion to learn that there is a vast deal of aristocratic and democratic cant, on the subject of the appearance, abilities, qualities and conduct of europeans of birth and station. in the first place, nature has made them very much as she makes other people; and the only physical difference there is proceeds from habit and education. then, as to the enervating effects of aristocracy, and noble effeminacy, i have seen ten times as much of it among your counter-jumpers and dealers in bob binet, as i have seen in the sons of dukes and princes; and, in my later days, circumstances have brought me much in contact with many of these last. manliness of character is far more likely to be the concomitant of aristocratic birth, than of democratic, i am afraid; for, while those who enjoy the first feel themselves above popular opinion, those who possess the last bow to it, as the asiatic slave bows to his master. i wish i could think otherwise; but experience has convinced me of these facts, and i have learned to feel the truth of an axiom that is getting to be somewhat familiar among ourselves, viz.--"that it takes an aristocrat to make a true democrat." certain i am, that all the real, manly, independent democrats, i have ever known in america, have been accused of aristocracy, and this simply because they were disposed to carry out their principles, and not to let that imperious sovereign, "the neighbourhood," play the tyrant over them. as for personal merit, quite as fair a proportion of talent is found among the well-born as among the low; and he is but an _ad captandum vulgus_ sort of a philosopher who holds the contrary doctrine. talleyrand was of one of the most ancient and illustrious houses of europe, as was turenne; while mansfield, erskine, grey, wellington, and a host of englishmen of mark of our time, come of noble blood. no--no--the cause of free institutions has much higher and much juster distinctions to boast of, than this imaginary superiority of the humbly born over those who come of ancient stock. lord harry dermond received me just as one of his station ought to receive one of mine; politely, without in the least compromising his own dignity. there was a good-natured smile on his face, of which, at first, i did not know what to make. he had a private conversation with sennit, too; but the smile underwent no change. in the end, i came to the conclusion that it was habitual with him and meant nothing. but, though so much disposed to smile lord harry dermond was equally disposed to listen to every suggestion of sennit, that was likely to favour the main chance. prize-money is certainly a great stain on the chivalry of all navies, but it is a stain with which the noble wishes to be as deeply dyed as the plebeian. human nature is singularly homogeneous on the subject of money; and younger-son nature, in the lands of _majorats_ and entails, enjoys a liveliness of longing on the subject, that is quite as conspicuous as the rapacity of the veriest plebeian who ever picked a pocket. "i am very sorry, captain wallingford," captain lord harry dermond observed to me, when his private conference with sennit was ended, and altogether superior to the weakness of powlett, who would have discussed the point, "that it is my duty to send your ship into plymouth. the french have got such an ascendency on the continent, that we are obliged to use every act of vigilance to counteract them: then, your cargo is of enemy's growth"." "as for the ascendency, my lord, you will see we americans have nothing to do with it; and my cargo, being necessarily of last year's crops, must have been grown and manufactured in a time of general peace. if it were not, i do not conceive it would legalize my capture." "we must leave sir william scott to decide that, my good sir," answered the captain,'with his customary smile; "and there is no use in our discussing the matter. an unpleasant duty"--as if he thought the chance of putting two or three thousand pounds in his pocket, unpleasant!--"an unpleasant duty, however, need not be performed in a disagreeable manner. if you will point out what portion of your people you could wish to keep in your ship, it shall be attended to. of course, you remain by your property your self; and i confess, whatever may be done with the cargo, i think the ship will be liberated. as the day is advancing, and it will require some little time to exchange the people, i should be exceedingly happy if you would do me the favour to lunch in my cabin." this was gentlemanly conduct, if it were not lawful. i could foresee a plenty of evil consequences to myself in the delay, though i own i had no great apprehensions of a condemnation. there was my note to john wallingford to meet, and two months' detention might keep me so long from home, as to put the payment at maturity quite out of the question. then came the mortgage on clawbonny, with its disquieting pictures; and i was in anything but a good humour to enjoy lord harry dermond's hospitality. still, i knew the uselessness of remonstrances, and the want of dignity there would be in repining, and succeeded in putting a good face on the matter. i simply requested that my chief mate, the cook, and neb, might be left in the dawn, submitting it to the discretion of my captors to take out of her as many of the remainder of her people as they saw fit. lord harry remarked it was not usual to leave a mate, but to oblige me, he would comply. the frigate would go in for water, in the course of a fortnight, when i might depend on having the entire crew, his majesty's subjects excepted, restored to my command. chapter xiv. _ st gent_. what is my ransom, master? let me know. _mast_. a thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. _mate_. and so much shall you give, or off goes yours. king henry vi. i never saw a man more astounded, or better disposed to fly into a passion, than was the case with mr. moses oloff van duzen marble, when he was told that the dawn was to be sent into england, for adjudication. nothing kept his tongue within the bounds of moderation, and i am far from certain i might not add his fists, but my assurances he would be sent on board the speedy, unless he behaved with prudence. as our people were sent out of the ship, i thought, several times, he would break out in open hostilities; and he did actually propose to me to knock sennit down, and throw him overboard. with a significant look, i told him it was not time for this. the mate now laid a finger on his nose, winked, and from that moment he not only seemed cheerful, but he assisted in hoisting in and out the different articles that were exchanged, in shifting the crews. when all was ready, it appeared that sennit was to be our prize-master. although a lieutenant in commission, he had only been lent to lord harry dermond by the admiral, in order to fill up the crew of that favoured officer; the speedy having her regular complement of lieutenants without him. as the cruise was so nearly up, and the ship had experienced great success in impressing since she sailed, sennit could be spared; and, if the truth were said, i make no doubt his mess-mates in the frigate were glad to be rid of him, now they had no further occasion for his peculiar skill and services. mr. sennit brought on board with him, as a prize-crew, ten foremast men, besides a master's-mate, of the name of diggens. under ordinary circumstances, this last dignitary would have been of sufficient skill to take the ship in: but this was the first prize lord harry had taken; she promised to be valuable if condemned; and i suppose he and his young, gentleman-like luffs were desirous of getting rid of their vulgar associate. at any rate, messrs. sennit and diggens both came on board us, bag and baggage. the various changes, the lunch, and the chase of the morning, had so far worn away the day, that the two vessels did not make sail until four o'clock, p.m., when both ships filled at the same time; the speedy on a wind, with two reefs in her top-sails, as when first seen, to play about for more prizes, and the dawn under studding-sails, with the wind nearly over the taffrail. when all was ready, each ship started away from the vacant point on the ocean, where they had been lying for hours, moving on diverging lines, at a rate that soon put a wide expanse of water between them. i felt the circumstance of being left under the command of such a man as sennit almost as sensibly as i felt the loss of my ship. he and the mate established themselves in my cabin, within the first hour, in a way that would have brought about an explosion, had not policy forbade it, on my part. sennit even took possession of my state-room, in which he ordered his own cot to be swung, and from which he coolly directed my mattress to be removed. as the lockers were under locks and keys, i permitted him to take possession without a remonstrance. diggens stowed his bedding in marble's berth, leaving my mate and myself to shift for ourselves. at a suggestion from marble, i affected great indignation at this treatment, directing neb to clear away a place in the steerage, in which to live, and to swing hammocks there for marble and myself. this movement had some effect on sennit, who was anxious to get at the small-stores; all of which were under good locks, and locks that he did not dare violate, under an order from the admiralty. it was, therefore, of much importance to him to belong to my mess; and the necessity of doing something to appease my resentment became immediately apparent to him. he made some apologies for his cavalier conduct, justifying what he had done on the score of his rank and the usages of navies, and i thought it prudent to receive his excuses in a way to avoid an open rupture. sennit was left in possession of the state-room, but i remained in the steerage; consenting, however, to mess in the cabin. this arrangement, which was altogether premeditated on my part, gave me many opportunities of consulting privately with marble; and of making sundry preparations for profiting by the first occasion that should offer to re-take the ship. in that day, re-captures were of pretty frequent occurrence; and i no sooner understood the dawn was to be sent in, than i began to reflect on the means of effecting my purpose. marble had been kept in the ship by me, expressly with this object. i suppose the reader to have a general idea of the position of the vessel, as well as of the circumstances in which she was placed. we were just three hundred and fifty-two miles to the southward and westward of scilly, when i observed at meridian, and the wind blowing fresh from the south-south-west, there was no time to lose, did i meditate anything serious against the prize crew. the first occasion that presented to speak to my mate offered while we were busy together in the steerage, stowing away our effects, and in making such dispositions as we could to be comfortable. "what think you, moses, of this mr. sennit and his people?" i asked, in a low voice, leaning forward on a water-cask, in order to get my head nearer to that of the mate. "they do not look like first-rate man-of-war's-men; by activity and surprise, could we not handle them?" marble laid a finger on his nose, winked, looked as sagacious as he knew how, and then went to the steerage door, which communicated with the companion-way, to listen if all were safe in that quarter. assured that there was no one near, he communicated his thoughts as follows: "the same idee has been at work here," he said, tapping his forehead with a fore-finger, "and good may come of it this mr. sennit is a cunning chap, and will want good looking after, but his mate drinks like a coal-heaver; i can see that in his whole face; a top-lantern is not lighter. _he_ must be handled by brandy. then, a more awkward set of long-shore fellows were never sent to manage a square-rigged craft, than these which have been sent from the speedy. they must have given us the very sweepings of the hold." "you know how it is with these dashing young man-of-war captains; they keep all their best materials for a fight. french frigates are tolerably plenty, they tell me, and this lord harry dermond, much as he loves sugar and coffee, would like to fall in with a la vigilante, or a la diane, of equal force, far better. this is the secret of his giving sennit such a set of raw ones. besides, he supposes the dawn will be at plymouth in eight-and-forty hours, as will certainly be the case should this wind stand." "the fellows are just so many london loafers. (i have always thought marble had the merit of bringing this word into fashion.) there are but three seamen among them, and _they_ are more fit for a hospital than for a lowyer-yard or a jib-boom." there was a good deal of truth, blended with some exaggeration, mixed up with this statement of tire mate. as a matter of course, the captain of the speedy had not sent away his best men, though they were not quite as bad as marble, in his desire to overcome them, was disposed to fancy. it is true, there were but three of their number whom the quick, nautical instinct of the mate had recognised as real seamen, though all had been on board ship long enough to render them more or less useful. "whatever we do must be done at once," i rejoined. "we are four athletic men, to act against twelve. the odds are heavy, but we shall have the advantage of being picked men, and of attacking by surprise." "i wish you had thought of asking to keep voorhees in the ship, miles; that fellow would be worth three ordinary men to us." "i did think of it, but the request would never have been granted. one could ask for a cook, or a mate, or a servant like neb, but to ask for an able seaman or two would have been to declare our object." "i believe you're right, and we must be thankful for the good stuff we have, as it is. how far will the law bear us out in knocking men on the head in such an undertaking? it's peace for america, and we must steer clear of piracy!" "i've thought of all that, moses, and see no great cause of apprehension. a man has certainly a right to recover that by the strong hand which he lost by the strong hand. should blood be spilt, which i hope to avert, the english courts might judge us harshly, while the american would acquit us. the law would be the same in both cases, though its administration would be very different. i am ready to cast my own fortune on the issue, and i wish no man to join me who will not do so, heart and hand. i see no reason to suppose it will be necessary to take life, to which i have as strong reluctance as you can have yourself." "there's my hand!" exclaimed marble, "and as for its owner's heart, you well know where that is to be found, miles. enough has been said for a beginning. we will look about us this afternoon, and talk further after supper." "good. do you say a word to billings, the cook, and i will open the matter to neb. of the last we are certain, but it may be well to make some promises to your man." "leave that to me, miles. i know my chap, and will deal with him as i would with an owner." marble and myself now separated, and i went on deck to observe how things promised in that quarter. by this time, the speedy's top-sails were beginning to dip, and the dawn was driving forward on her course, with everything drawing that she could carry. all the english were on deck, sennit included. the last gave me a sufficiently civil salute as i put my foot on the quarter-deck, but i avoided falling into any discourse with him. my cue was to note the men, and to ascertain all i could concerning their distribution during the approaching night. diggens, i could see, was a red-faced fellow who probably had lost his promotion through love of the bottle, though, as often happens with such persons, a prime seaman and a thorough man-of-war's-man. of him, i thought i could make sure by means of brandy. sennit struck me as being a much more difficult subject to get along with. there were signs of cogniac about his face too, but he had more rank, more at stake, and brighter hopes than the master's-mate. then he was evidently better practised in the ways of the world than his companion, and had constantly a sort of uneasy vigilance about his eye and manner that gave me no little concern. it was my wish to strike a blow, if possible, that very night, every minute carrying us fast towards the chops of the channel, where the english had so many cruisers in general, as to render ultimate escape next to impossible, should we even be so lucky as to regain command of our own ship. i was afraid, moreover, sennit might take it into his head to have all hands all night, under the pretext of drawing in with the land. should he actually adopt this course, our case was nearly hopeless. "your mate seems to love the cupboard, mr. wallingford," sennit remarked to me, in a good-natured manner, with an evident wish to establish still more amicable relations between us than had yet existed; "he has been in and about that galley these ten minutes, fidgeting with his tin-pot, like a raw hand who misses his mother's tea!" sennit laughed at his own humour, and i could hardly answer with a smile, for i knew my mate had adopted this experiment to open communications with the cook. "mr. marble is famous for his love of slops," i answered, evasively. "well, he does not _look_ it. i have seldom seen a more thorough-looking sea-dog than your mate, captain wallingford,"--this was the first time sennit had dignified me with this title,--"and i took a fancy to him on that account, as soon as i saw him. you will do me the favour to sup with us in the cabin, i hope, for i see signs at the galley that it will soon be ready?" "i shall expect to join your mess, sir, now explanations have passed between us. i suppose _my_ mate is to be one of my party, as well as yours?" "certainly. i shall ask the favour of you to let mr. marble relieve diggens, for half an hour or so, while the poor fellow gets a bite. we'll do as much for you another time." this was said in a dry, laughing, sort of a way, which showed that mr. sennit was fully aware he was making a request a little out of rule, to ask a man to aid in carrying his own ship into port, as a prize; but i took it, as it was meant, for a rough joke that had convenience at the bottom. it was not long ere neb came to announce that supper was ready. sennit had made but an indifferent dinner, it would seem, and he appeared every way disposed to take his revenge on the present occasion. calling out to me to follow, he led the way, cheerfully, into the cabin, professing great satisfaction at finding we were to make but one mess of it. strictly speaking, a prize crew, under circumstances like those in which the dawn was now placed, had no right to consume any portion of the vessel's own stores, condemnation being indispensable to legalize lord harry dermond's course, even according to the laws of his own country. but i had ordered neb to be liberal with my means, and a very respectable entertainment was spread before our eyes, when we reached the cabin. sennit was soon hard at work; but, under pretence of looking for some better sugar than had been placed on the table, i got three bottles of brandy privately into neb's hands, whispering him to give one to the master's-mate on deck, and the other two to the crew. i knew there were too many motives for such a bribe, connected with our treatment, the care of our private property, and other things of that nature, to feel any apprehension that the true object of this liberality would be suspected by those who were to reap its advantages. sennit, marble, and myself, sate quite an hour at table. the former drank freely of wine; though he declined having anything to do with the brandy. as he had taken two or three glasses of the rejected liquor in my presence before the two ships parted, i was convinced his present forbearance proceeded from a consciousness of the delicate circumstances in which he was placed, and i became rather more wary in my own movements. at length the lieutenant said something about the "poor devil on deck," and marble was sent up, to look out for the ship, while diggens came below to eat. the instant the master's-mate appeared, i could see the brandy had been doing its work on him, and i was fearful his superior might notice it. he did not, however, being too well pleased with the madeira i had set before him, to trouble himself about a few drams, more or less, that might have fallen to the share of his subordinate. at length this memorable supper, like everything else of earth, came to an end, and all of us went on deck in a body: leaving neb and the cook to clear away the fragments. it was now night, though a soft star-light was diffused over the surface of the rolling water. the wind had moderated a little, and the darkness promised to pass without any extra labour to the people, several of the studding-sails having been taken in by diggens' orders, when he first went below. when seamen first come on deck at sea, there is usually a pause in the discourse, while each notes the weather, the situation of the ship, and the signs of the hour. sennit and myself did this, almost as a matter of course, separating, in order that each might make his observations at leisure. as for marble, he gave up the command of the deck to diggens, walking forward by himself. neb and the cook were keeping up the customary clattering with plates, knives, and forks. "have the people had their suppers yet, mr. diggens?" demanded the lieutenant. "not yet, sir. we have no cook of our own, you know, sir, and so have been obliged to wait, sir." "the king's men wait for nobody. order that black fellow to let them have their suppers at once; while that is doing, we'll tell off the watches for the night." diggens was evidently getting more and more under the influence of brandy, keeping the bottle hid somewhere near him, by which means he took frequent draughts unperceived. he gave the necessary orders, notwithstanding; and presently the men were mustered aft, to be told off into the two watches that were required for the service of the ship. this was soon done. sennit choosing five, and diggens his five. "it's past eight o'clock," said sennit, when the selections were made. "go below the watch, and all but the man at the wheel of the watch on deck can go below to the lights, to eat. bear a hand with your suppers, my lads; this is too big a craft to be left without look-outs forward, though i dare say the yankees will lend us a hand while you are swallowing a mouthful?" "to be sure we will, sir," cried marble, who had come to the gangway to witness the proceedings. "here, you neb--come out of that galley and play forecastle-man, while john bull gets his supper. he's always cross when he's hungry, and we'll feed him well to make a good neighbourhood." this caused some who heard it to laugh, and others to swear and mutter. every one, nevertheless, appeared willing to profit by the arrangement, the englishmen being soon below, hard at work around the kids. it now struck me that marble intended to clap the forecastle-hatch down suddenly, and make a rush upon the prize officers and the man at the wheel. leaving one hand to secure the scuttle, we should have been just a man apiece for those on deck; and i make no doubt the project would have succeeded, had it been attempted in that mode. i was, by nature, a stronger man than sennit, besides being younger and in my prime; while diggens would not have been more than a child in marble's hands. as for the man at the wheel, neb could have thrown him half-way up to the mizen-top, on an emergency. but it seemed that my mate had a deeper project in view; nor was the other absolutely certain, as i afterwards learned, one of the englishmen soon coming out of the forecastle, to eat on deck, quite likely aware that there might be some risk in letting all hands remain below. it was now sufficiently dark for our purposes, and i began to reflect seriously on the best mode of proceeding, when, all at once, a heavy splash in the water was heard, and marble was heard shouting, "man overboard!" sennit and i ran to the lee main-rigging, where we just got a glimpse of the hat of the poor fellow, who seemed to be swimming manfully, as the ship foamed past him. "starboard, your helm!" shouted marble.--"starboard, your helm! come to these fore-braces, neb--bear a hand this a-way, you cook. captain wallingford, please lend us a pull. look out for the boat, mr. sennit; we'll take care of the head-yards." now all this had been regularly concocted in the mate's mind in advance. by these means he not only managed to get all our people together, but he got them away from the boat. the whole was done so naturally, as to prevent the smallest suspicion of any design. to do sennit justice, i must acknowledge that he behaved himself particularly well on this sudden appeal to his activity and decision. the loss of a _man_ was, to him, a matter of deep moment; all his habits and propensities inclining him to be solicitous about the manning of ships. a man saved was as good as a man impressed; and he was the first person in the boat. by the time the ship had lost her way, the boat was ready; and i heard sennit call out the order to lower. as for us americans, we had our hands full, to get the head-yards braced up in time, and to settle away the top-gallant halyards, aft, in order to save the spars. in two minutes, however, the dawn resembled a steed that had suddenly thrown his rider, diverging from his course, and shooting athwart the field at right angles to his former track, scenting and snuffing the air. forward all was full, but the after-yard having been square from the first, their sails lay aback, and the ship was slowly forging ahead, with the seas slapping against her bows, as if the last were admonishing her to stop. i now walked aft to the taffrail, in order to make certain of the state of things. just as i reached the stern, sennit was encouraging the men to "give way" with the oar. i saw that he had six of his people with him, and no doubt six of his best men--the boldest and most active being always the most forward on such occasions. there was no time to be lost; and i turned to look for marble. he was at my elbow, having sought me with the same object. we walked away from the man at the wheel together, to get out of ear-shot. "now's your time, miles," the mate muttered, slipping one of my own pistols into my hands, as he spoke.--"that master's-mate is as muzzy as a tapster at midnight, and i can make him do what i please. neb has his orders, and the cook is ready and willing. you have only to say the word, to begin." "there seems little necessity for bloodshed," i answered "if you have the other pistol, do not use it unnecessarily; we may want it for the boat----" "boat!" interrupted marble. "what more have we to do with the boat? no--no--miles; let this mr. sennit go to england where he belongs. now, see how i'll manage diggens," he added; "i want to get a luff purchase up out of the forecastle;--will you just order two or three of your fellows forward, to go down and pass it up for me?" "d'ye hear there, forward," called out diggens, with a very thick tongue.--"tumble down into that forecastle, three or four of you, and pass up the tackle for mr. marble." now, there were but three of the englishmen left in the ship, exclusively of the master's-mate himself, and the man at the wheel. this order, consequently, sent all three immediately into the forecastle. marble coolly drew over the hatch, secured it, ordered the cook to keep a general look-out forward, and walking aft, as if nothing occurred, said in his quiet way-- "the ship's yours, again, captain wallingford." "mr. diggens," i said, approaching the master's-mate, "as i have a necessity for this vessel, which is my property, if you please, sir, i'll now take charge of her in person. you had better go below, and make yourself comfortable; there is good brandy to be had for the asking, and you may pass an agreeable evening, and turn in whenever it suits you." diggens was a sot and a fool, but he did not want for pluck. his first disposition was to give battle, beginning to call out for his men to come to his assistance, but i put an end to this, by seizing him by the collar, and dropping him, a little unceremoniously, down the companion-way. half an hour later, he was dead drunk, and snoring on the cabin floor. there remained only the man at the wheel to overcome he was a seaman, of course, and one of those quiet, orderly men, who usually submit to the powers that be. approaching him, i said-- "you see how it is, my lad; the ship has again changed owners. as for you, you shall be treated as you behave. stand to the wheel, and you'll get good treatment and plenty of grog, but, by becoming fractious, you'll find yourself in irons before you know where you are." "ay--ay, sir--" answered the man, touching his hat, and contenting himself with this brief and customary reply. "now, mr. marble," i continued, "it is time to have an eye on the boat, which will soon find the man, or give him up. i own, that i wish we had recovered the ship without tossing the poor fellow overboard." "fellow overboard!" cried marble, laughing--"i'd ha' thrown all england into the sea had it been necessary and in my power, but it wasn't necessary to throw overboard so much as a child. the chap they're arter is nothing but one of the fenders, with the deep sea lashed to its smaller end, and a tarpaulin stopped on the larger! mr. sennit need be in no great hurry, for i'll engage his 'man overboard' will float as long as his yawl!" the whole of marble's expedient was thus explained, and i confess i was much relieved by a knowledge of the truth. apart from the general relief that accompanied the consciousness of not having taken human life, should we again fall into english hands, a thing by no means improbable, in the situation in which we were placed, this circumstance might be of the last importance to us. in the mean time, however, i had to look to the boat and the ship. the first thing we did was to clew up the three top-gallant-sails. this gave us a much easier command of the vessel, short-handed as we were, and it rendered it less hazardous to the spars to keep the dawn on a wind. when this was done, i ordered the after-braces manned, and the leaches brought as near as possible to touching. it was time; for the oars were heard, and then i got a view of the boat as it came glancing down on our weather quarter. i instantly gave the order to fill the after sails, and to keep the ship full and by. the braces were manned, as well as they could be, by marble, neb and the cook, while i kept an eye on the boat, with an occasional glance at the man at the wheel. "boat ahoy!" i hailed, as soon as the lieutenant got near enough for conversation. "ay, boat ahoy!" sure enough, growled sennit; "some gentleman's back will pay for this trick. the 'man overboard' is nothing but a d----d paddy made out of a fender with a tarpaulin truck! i suspect your mate of this, mr. wallingford." "my mate owns the offence, sir; it was committed to get you out of the ship, while we took charge of her, again. the dawn is under my orders once more, mr. sennit; and before i permit you to come on board her, again, we must have an understanding on the subject." a long, meaning, whistle, with a muttered oath or two, satisfied me that the lieutenant had not the slightest suspicion of the truth, until it was thus abruptly announced to him. by this time the boat was under our stern, where she was brought in order to be hooked on, the men intending to come up by the tackles. for this, i cared not, however, it being an easy matter for me, standing on the taffrail, to knock any one on the head, who should attempt to board us, in that fashion. by way of additional security, however, neb was called to the wheel, marble taking the english sailor forward to help haul the bow-lines, and trim the yards. the ship beginning to gather way, too, i threw sennit the end of a lower-studding-sail halyards, that were brought aft for the purpose, ordered his bowman to let go his hold of the tackle, and dropped the boat a safe towing distance astern. neb being ordered to keep the weather leaches touching, just way enough was got on the ship to carry out the whole of this plan, without risk to anybody. "you'll not think of leaving us out here, on the atlantic, mr. wallingford, five hundred miles from the land's end," sennit at length called out, time having been taken to chew the cud of reflection. "that's as you behave, sir. i wish you no harm personally, mr. sennit, though i much wish my own ship. the night promises to be good and the wind is moderating, so that the boat will be perfectly safe. i will have you hauled up, and we will throw you a spare sail for a covering, and you will have the consolation of knowing that _we_ shall have to keep watch, while you are sleeping." "ay, sir, i understand it all; job's comfort that will be. as i do not suppose you are to be coaxed out of the advantage you have obtained, we have no choice but compliance. give us some food and water in addition, and, for god's sake! don't cast us adrift in this boat, so far from land." i gave sennit an assurance that we would take care of him, and orders were issued to comply with his wishes. we passed the sail into the boat, and lowered a bread-bag, a kid full of beef and pork, and a breaker of fresh water. i took all these precautions the more readily, as i did not know but we might be compelled to cast the boat adrift, and one would not wish to resort to such a step, without desiring to leave his crew the best possible chance for their lives. i will do marble the justice to say, he was active in making these arrangements, though, had the question of destroying the entire prize-crew presented itself, on one side, and that of losing the ship on the other, he would not have hesitated about sinking great britain itself, were it possible to achieve the last. i was more human, and felt exceedingly relieved when i again found myself in command of the dawn, after an interregnum of less than ten hours, without a drop of blood having been spilled. as soon as everything required was passed into the boat, she was dropped astern, nearly to the whole length of the studding-sail halyards. this would make her tow more safely to both parties: to those in her, because there was less risk of the ship's dragging her under; and to ourselves, because it removed all danger of the englishmen's returning our favour, by effecting a surprise in their turn. at such a distance from the ship, there would always be time for us to rally and defeat any attempt to get alongside. chapter xv. _capt._ "and as for these whose ransome we have set, it is our pleasure, one of them depart:-- therefore come you with us, and let him go." king henry vi. by such simple means, and without resistance, as it might be, did i recover the possession of my ship, the dawn. but, now that the good vessel was in my power, it was by no means an easy thing to say what was to be done with her. we were just on the verge of the ground occupied by the channel cruisers, and it was preposterous to think of running the gauntlet among so many craft, with the expectation of escaping. it is true, we might fall in with twenty english man-of-war vessels, before we met with another speedy, to seize us and order us into plymouth, had everything been in order and in the usual state; but no cruiser would or could board us, and not demand the reasons why so large a ship should be navigated by so small a crew. it was over matters like these that marble and i now consulted, no one being on the quarter-deck but the mate, who stood at the wheel, and myself. the cook was keeping a look-out on the forecastle. the englishman had lain down, in full view, by my orders, at the foot of the main-mast; while neb, ever ready to sleep when not on duty, was catching a nap on the booms. "we have got the ship, moses," i commenced, "and the question next arises, what we are to do with her?" "carry her to her port of destination, captain wallingford, to be sure. what else _can_ we do with her, sir?" "ay, that is well enough, if it can be done. but, in addition to the difficulty of four men's taking care of a craft of five hundred tons, we have a sea before us that is covered with english cruisers." "as for the four men, you may safely set us down as eight. i'll engage we do as much in a blow, as eight such fellows as are picked up now-a-days 'long shore. the men of the present time are mere children to those one met with in my youth, miles!" "neither neb, nor the cook, nor i, am a man of other times, but are all men of to-day; so you must call us but three, after all. i know we can do much; but a gale may come that would teach us our insignificance. as it is, we are barely able to furl the main-top-gallant-sail in a squall, leaving one hand at the wheel, and another to let go rigging. no, no, moses; we must admit we are rather short-handed, putting the best face on the matter." "if you generalize in that mode, miles, my dear boy, i must allow that we are. we can go up channel, and ten chances to one but we fall in with some yankee, who will lend us a hand or two." "we shall be twice as likely to meet with king george's ships, who will overhaul our articles, and want to know what has become of the rest of our people." "then we'll tell 'em that the rest of the crew has been pressed; they know their own tricks too well, not to see the reasonableness of such an idee." "no officer would leave a vessel of this size with only her master, mate, cook, and one man, to take care of her, even had he found a crew of deserters from his own ship in her. in such a case, and admitting a right to impress from a foreigner at all, it would be his duty to send a party to carry the craft into port. no, no, moses--we must give all the english a wide berth, now, or they will walk us into plymouth, yet." "blast the hole! i was in it, a prisoner, during the revvylushun, and never want to see its face ag'in. they've got what they call the mill prison there, and it's a mill that does grinding less to my taste, than the thing of your'n at clawbonny. why not go north-about, miles? there must be few cruisers up that-a-way." "the road is too long, the weather is apt to be too thick, and the coast is too dangerous for us, moses. we have but two expedients to choose between--to turn our heads to the westward, and try to get home, trusting to luck to bring us up with some american who will help us, or steer due east and run for a french port--bordeaux for instance--where we might either dispose of the cargo, or ship a new crew, and sail for our port of destination." "then try the last, by all means. with this wind, we might shove the ship in with the land in the course of two or three days, and go clear of everything! i like the idee, and think it can be carried out. burdux is always full of americans, and there must be men enough, to be had for the asking, knocking about the quays." after a little further conversation, we determined on this plan, and set about carrying it into execution on the spot. in rounding-to, the ship had been brought by the wind on the larboard tack, and was standing to the northward and westward, instead of to the eastward, the course we now wished to steer. it was necessary, therefore, to ware round and get the ship's head in the right direction. this was not a difficult manoeuvre at all, and the englishman helping us, with seeming good-will, it was soon successfully executed. when this was accomplished, i sent the english sailor into the cabin to keep diggens company, and we set a watch on deck of two and two, marble and myself taking charge four hours and four hours, in the old mode. i acknowledge that i slept little that night. two or three limes we detected sennit attempting to haul close up under the ship's stern, out of all question with a view to surprise us, but as often would he drop to the length of his tow-rope, us he saw marble's head, or mine, watching him above the taffrail. when the day dawned i was called, and was up and on the look-out as our horizon enlarged and brightened round the ship. the great object was to ascertain, as early as possible, what vessels might be in our neighbourhood. but a solitary sail was visible. she appeared to be a ship of size, close-hauled, heading to the southward and eastward: by steering on our proper course, or certainly by diverging a little to the northward, it would be an easy matter to speak her. as i could plainly see she was not a ship of war, my plan was formed in a moment. on communicating it to marble, it met with his entire approbation. measures were taken, accordingly, to carry it into immediate execution. in the first place, i ordered sennit, who was awake, and had been, i believe, the whole night, to haul the boat up and to lay hold of one of the boat-tackles. this he did willingly enough, no doubt expecting that he was to be received into the ship, under a treaty. i stood on the look-out to prevent an attack, one man being abundantly able to keep at bay a dozen who could approach only by ascending a rope hand over hand, while marble went below to look after the two worthies who had been snoring all night in the cabin. in a minute my mate reappeared, leading up the seaman, who was still more asleep than awake. this man was directed to lay hold of the tackle and slide down into the boat. there being no remedy, and descending being far easier than ascending, this exploit was soon performed, and we were well rid of one of our enemies. sennit now began to remonstrate, and to point out the danger there was of being towed under, the ship going through the water the whole time at the rate of five or six knots. i knew, however, that the english were too skilful to run the risk of being drowned, unnecessarily, and that they would let go of the tackle before they would suffer the boat to be swamped. it was ticklish work, i allow; but they succeeded surprisingly well in taking care of themselves. we had more difficulty with diggens. this fellow had been so beastly drunk, that he scarce knew what he was about when awoke; and marble rather dragged him on deck, and aft to the taffrail, than assisted him to walk. there we got him at last; and he was soon dangling by the tackle. so stupid and enervated was the master's mate, however, that he let go his hold, and went into the ocean. the souse did him good, i make no doubt; and his life was saved by his friends, one of the sailors catching him by the collar, and raising him into the boat. sennit availed himself of this accident, to make further remonstrances on the subject of having any more men put in the boat. it was easy to see, it was as much his policy to get everybody out of that little conveyance, as it was mine to get all the english into her. "for god's sake, captain wallingford, knock off with this, if you please;" cried the lieutenant, with a most imploring sort of civility of manner.--"you see how it is; we can barely keep the boat from swamping, with the number we have in her; and a dozen times during the night i thought the ship would drag her under. nothing can be easier than for you to secure us all, if you will let us come on board, one at a time." "i do not wish to see you in irons, mr. sennit; and this will remove any necessity for resorting to an expedient so unpleasant. hold on upon the tackle, therefore, as i shall feel obliged to cast you off entirely, unless you obey orders." this threat had the desired effect. one by one, the men were let up out of the forecastle, and sent into the boat. cooked meat, bread, rum and water, were supplied to the english; and, to be ready to meet any accident, we lowered them a compass, and sennit's quadrant. we did the last at his own earnest request, for he seemed to suspect we intended sending him adrift, as indeed was my plan, at the proper moment. although the boat had now twelve men in her, she was in no danger, being a stout, buoyant six-oared yawl, that might have held twenty, on an emergency. the weather looked promising, too,--the wind being just a good top-gallant breeze, for a ship steering full and by. the only thing about which i had any qualms, was the circumstance that south-west winds were apt to bring mists, and that the boat might thus be lost. the emergency, nevertheless, was one that justified some risks, and i pursued my plan steadily. as soon as all the english were in the boat, and well provided with necessaries, we felt at more liberty to move about the ship, and exert ourselves in taking care of her. the man at the wheel could keep an eye on the enemy,--the dawn steering like a pilot-boat. neb was sent aloft, to do certain necessary duty, and the top-gallant-sails being loose, the clew-lines were overhauled, and the sails set. i did this more to prevent the english ship from suspecting something wrong, at seeing a vessel running off, before the wind, under such short canvass, than from any desire to get ahead, since we were already going so fast as to render it probable we should pass the other vessel, unless we altered our course to meet her. diogenes billings, the cook, had now a little leisure to serve us a warm breakfast. if mr. sennit were living, i think he would do us the justice to say he was not forgotten. we sent the people in the boat some good hot coffee, well sweetened, and they had a fair share of the other comfortable eatables of which we partook ourselves. we also got out, and sent them the masts and regular sails of the boat, which was fitted to carry two sprits. by this time the stranger ship was within two leagues of us, and it became necessary to act. i sent marble aloft to examine the horizon, and he came down to report nothing else was in sight. this boded well. i proceeded at once to the taffrail, where i hailed the boat, desiring sennit to haul her up within comfortable conversing distance. this was done immediately. "mr. sennit," i commenced, "it is necessary for us to part here. the ship in sight is english, and will take you up. i intend to speak her, and will take care that she knows where you are. by standing due east you will easily cut her off, and there cannot be a doubt of her picking you up." "for heaven's sake, consider a moment, capt. wallingford," sennit exclaimed, "before you abandon us out here, a thousand miles from land." "you are just three hundred and twenty-six miles from scilly, and not much more from the land's end, mr. sennit, with a wind blowing dead for both. then your own countrymen will pick you up, of a certainty, and carry you safe into port." "ay--into one of the west-india islands; if an englishman at all, yonder vessel is a running west-indiaman; she may take us all the way to jamaica." "well, then you will have an opportunity of returning at your leisure. you wished to take me almost as much out of my course; or, if not absolutely out of my course, quite as much out of my time. i have as little relish for plymouth as you seem to have for jamaica." "but, the stranger may be a frenchman--now, i look at him, he has a french look." "if he should be french, he will treat you well. it will be exchanging beef for soup-maigre for a week or two. these frenchmen eat and drink as well as you english." "but, capt. wallingford, their prisons! this fellow, bonaparte, exchanges nobody this war, and if i get into france i am a ruined man!" "and if i had gone into plymouth, i fear i should have been a ruined man, too." "remember, we are of the same blood, after all--people of the same stock--just as much countrymen as the natives of kent and suffolk. old saxon blood, both of us." "thank you, sir; i shall not deny the relationship, since it is your pleasure to claim it. i marvel, however, you did not let your cousin's ship pass without detaining her." "how could i help it, my dear wallingford? lord harry is a nobleman, and a captain, and what could a poor devil of a lieutenant, whose commission is not a year old, do against such odds! no--no--there should be more feeling and good-fellowship between chaps like you and me, who have their way to make in the world." "you remind me of the necessity of being in motion.--adieu, mr. sennit--cut, moses!" marble struck a blow with the axe on-the studding-sail halyards, and away the dawn glided, leaving the boat tossing on the waves, twenty fathoms further astern, on the very first send of the sea. what mr. sennit _said_, i could not hear, now, but i very plainly saw him shake his fist at me, and his head, too; and i make no manner of doubt, if he called me anything, that he did not call me a gentleman. in ten minutes the boat was fully a mile astern. at first sennit did not appear disposed to do anything, lying motionless on the water, in sullen stillness; but wiser thoughts succeeded, and, stepping his two masts, in less than twenty minutes i saw his sails spread, and the boat making the best of its way to get into the track of the stranger. it had been my intention, originally, to speak the strange ship, as i had told sennit; but seeing there was no probability of her altering her course, so as to pass the boat, i changed my purpose, and stood directly athwart her fore-foot, at about half a mile's distance. i set the yankee bunting, and she showed the english ensign, in return. had she been french, however, it would have made no odds to me; for, what did i care about my late captors becoming prisoners of war? they had endeavoured to benefit themselves at my cost, and i was willing enough to benefit myself at theirs. we made our preparations for setting studding sails now, though i thought there were signs of a desire in the englishman to speak me. i knew he must be armed, and felt no wish to gratify him, inasmuch as he might take it into his head to make some inquiries concerning the boat, which if not already visible from his decks, soon must be. i was certain the dawn, deep as she was, would go four feet to the indiaman's three, and, once past him, i had no apprehensions in the event of a chase. the english ship caught sight of the boat, when we were about a mile on his lee quarter, with lower and top-mast studding-sails set, going quite eight knots, on a due east course. we became aware of the fact, by her hoisting a jack at the fore. from that moment i gave myself no concern on the subject of sennit and his prize-crew. twenty minutes later, we saw the ship back her main-top-sail, and, by means of the glasses, we plainly perceived the boat alongside of her. after some delay, the yawl was hoisted on the deck of the ship, and the latter filled her top-sail. i had some curiosity to ascertain what would come next. it would seem that sennit actually induced the master of the west-indiaman to give chase; for, no sooner did the vessel gather way, than she bore up, after us, packing on everything that would draw. we were greatly rejoiced at having improved the leisure time, in making sail ourselves; for, having a lower studding-sail and two top-mast studding-sails on the ship, when this race began, i did not feel much apprehension of being overtaken. by way of making more sure of an escape, however, we set the royals. when the west-indiaman bore up in chase, we were about two leagues ahead of our pursuer. so far from lessening this distance, though she carried royal studding-sails, we gradually increased it to three, until, satisfied he could do nothing, the master of the strange ship took in his light sails, and hauled by the wind again, carrying the late prize-crew in a direct line from england. i afterwards learned that sennit and his companions were actually landed in the island of barbadoes, after a pleasant passage of only twenty-six days. i make no doubt it took them much longer to get back again; for it was certain not one of them had reappeared in england six months from that day. we now had the ship to ourselves, though with a very diminished crew. the day was the time to sleep; and relieving each other at the wheel, those who were off duty, slept most of the time, when they were not eating. at six in the evening, however, all hands were up, making our preparations for the night. at that hour, the wind was steady and favourable; the horizon clear of vessels of every sort, and the prospects of a pleasant night were sufficiently good. the run in the course of the day was equal to one hundred miles, and i computed the distance to brest, at something less than four hundred miles. by getting in nearer with the land, i should have the option of standing for any french port i pleased, that lay between cherbouig and bayonne. "well, moses," i observed to my old friend and shipmate, when we had finished our survey, "this looks promising! as long as the wind remains in this quarter, we shall do well enough; should we actually get in safely, i shall not regret the delay, the credit of having done so good a thing, and of having done it so well, being worth as much to me, as any interest on capital, or wear and tear of gear, can possibly be. as for mr. sennit, i fancy he is some sixty or eighty miles off here at the southward and westward, and we've done with him for the voyage." "suppose he should fall in with the speedy, and report what has happened, miles?" returned the mate. "i have been calculating that chance. the stranger was standing directly for the frigate's cruising ground, and he may meet her. we will not halloo, 'till we're out of the woods." "that risk is so remote, i shall not let it give me any trouble. it is my intention to run in for the land at our fastest rate of sailing, and, then profit by the best wind that offers, to get into the nearest haven. if you can suggest a better scheme, moses, i invite you to speak." marble assented, though i perceived he was not entirely free from the apprehension he had named until the next morning arrived, bringing with it no change, and still leaving us a clear sea. that day and the succeeding night, too, we made a capital run, and at meridian of the third day after the recapture of the dawn, i calculated our position to be just one hundred and four miles to the southward and eastward of ushant. the wind had shifted, however, and it had just come out light at north-east. we went to work, all hands of us, to get in the studding-sails, and to brace up and haul aft; an operation that consumed nearly two hours. we were so busily employed, indeed, as to have little or no time to look about us, and my surprise was the less, therefore, when the cook called out "sail ho!" i was busy trimming the main-yard, when this announcement was made, and looking up, i saw a lugger standing towards us, and already within long gun-shot. i afterwards ascertained that perceiving us to be approaching her, this craft had lain like a snake in the grass, under bare poles, until she thought us sufficiently near, when she made sail in chase. i saw, at a glance, several important facts: in the first place, the lugger was french beyond all dispute; in the second, she was a cruiser, public or private; in the third, escape from her, under any circumstances, was highly improbable, under those which actually existed impossible. but, why should we endeavour to escape from this vessel? the countries were at peace: we had just bought louisiana from france, and paid fifteen millions of dollars for it, thereby not only getting the country ourselves, but keeping it out of the hands of john bull, and we were said to be excellent friends, again. then the dawn had extricated herself from english clutches, only a day or two before; no doubt the lugger would give us all the aid we could require. "she is french, for a thousand dollars, miles!" i cried, lowering my glass from the first good look of the stranger; "and by keeping away two points, we shall speak her in fifteen minutes." "ay, french," rejoined the mate, "but, blast 'em all round, i'd much rather have nothing to do with any of the rogues. i'll tell you how it is, miles, these are onmoralizing times, and the sea is getting to be sprinkled with so many van tassels, that i'm afeard you and i'll be just that dear, good old soul, my mother, and little kitty, to be frightened, or, if not exactly frightened, to be wronged out of our just rights." "little fear of that this time, moses--this is a frenchman; as we are bound in to a french port, he'll not hesitate to lend us half-a-dozen hands, in order to help us along." "ay, and take half the ship and cargo for salvage! i know these piccaroons, and you ought to know 'em too, miles, for it's only two or three years since you were a prisoner of war among 'em. that was a delightful feelin', i rather conclude." "times are altered, moses, and i'll show confidence in the change. keep the ship away, neb--so; meet her--steer for the lugger's foremast; that will do." of course, these orders soon brought the two vessels alongside of each other. as the lugger approached, we made her out to be a stout, but active craft, of sixteen guns, and apparently full of men. she set the '_tri-color,_' when half a mile distant, sure of her prey, should we turn out to be a prize. we showed-him the stars and stripes of course, fancying he would treat them as a friend. it was not long before both vessels had rounded-to, and preparations were made to hail. "what sheep's zat?" demanded one in good broken english. "the dawn, of new-york--may i ask the name of your lugger?" "le polisson--corsair francois--what you load, eh?" "sugar and coffee, with cochineal, and a few other articles." "peste!--vere you boun', monsieur, s'il vous plait." "hamburg." "diable!--zis is _non_ ze _chemin_.--how you come her, sair, viz ze vin' at sow-vess?" "we are going in to brest, being in need of a little succour." "you vish salvage, eh! parbleu, we can do you zat mosh good, as veil as anodair." i was then ordered, privateer fashion, to lower a boat, and to repair on board the lugger with my papers. when old i had no stern or quarter-boat to lower, the frenchman manifested surprise; but he sent his own yawl for me. my reception on board the polisson was a little free for frenchmen. the captain received me in person, and i saw, at a glance, i had to deal with men who were out on the high seas, with the fear of english prison-ships constantly before their eyes, in quest of gold. i was not invited into the cabin, a crowded, dark and dirty hole, for, in that day, the french were notoriously foul in their vessels, but was directed to show my papers seated on a hen-coop. as everything was regular about the register, manifest and clearance, i could see that monsieur gallois was not in a particularly good humour. he had one, whom i took to be a renegade englishman, with him, to aid in the examination, though, as this man never spoke in my presence, i was unable precisely to ascertain who he was. the two had a long consultation in private, after the closest scrutiny could detect no flaw in the papers. then monsieur gallois approached and renewed the discourse. "vy you have no boat, sair?" he asked. "i lost my boat, three days since, about a hundred leagues to the southward and westward." "it is not have bad veddair!--why you got no more _marins_ in your sheep?--eh!" i saw it would be best to tell the whole truth, at once; for, were i to get any aid from this lugger, the facts, sooner or later, must be made known. accordingly, i gave the frenchman, and his english-looking companion, a full account of what had occurred between us and the speedy. after this narrative, there was another long conference between mons. gallois and his friend. then the boat was again manned, and the captain of the lugger, accompanied by his privy-counsellor and myself, went on board the dawn. here, a very cursory examination satisfied my visiters of the truth of my story. i confess, i expected some commendation from a french man, when he heard the ready manner in which we had got our vessel out of the hands of the philistines. no such thing; an expressive '_bon_' had escaped mons. gallois, once or twice, it is true; but it was apparent he was looking much sharper for some pretext to make us a prize himself, than for reasons to commend our conduct. each new aspect of the affair was closely scanned, and a new conference with the adviser was held, apart. "sair," said mons. gallois, "i have mosh regret, but your sheep is _bon_ prize. you have been _prisonnier_ to ze english, ze enemy of la france, and you shall not capture yourself. l'amérique is not at war--is neutral, as you shall say, and ze américains cannot make ze prize. i considair your ship, monsieur, as in ze hand of ze english, and shall capture him. _mes regrets sont vifs, mais, que voulez vous_? ze corsair most do his devoir, ze same as ze sheep _national_. i shall send you to brest, vere, if you be not sold _par un décret_, i shall be too happy to restore _votre batiment--allons_!" here was a _dénouement_ to the affair, with a vengeance! i _was_ to be captured, because i _had_ been captured. "once a corporal, always a corporal." as the english had taken me, the french would take me. a prize to-day, you must be a prize to-morrow. i have always thought the case of the dawn was the first of the long series of wrongs that were subsequently committed on american commerce, in virtue of this same principle, a little expanded and more effectually carried out, perhaps, and which, in the end terminated by blockading all europe, and interdicting the high seas, on paper. i knew the uselessness of remonstrating with a rapacious privateersman. "let him send me in," i thought to myself, at first; "it is just where i wish to go; once in, the minister must get me clear. the fellow will only be the dupe of his own covetousness, and i shall profit by it, in the degree that he will be a loser!" i presume mons. gallois entertained a very different view of the matter, for he manifested great alacrity in throwing a crew of no less than seventeen souls, big and little, on board us. i watched these operations in silence, as did neb and diogenes. as for marble, he lighted a segar, took his seat on the windlass, and sat in dignified anger, ready to explode on the slightest occasion, yet apprehensive he might be sent out of the ship, should he betray one-half of what he felt. out of the ship neither of us was sent, however, the french probably feeling indisposed to be troubled with passengers in the narrow quarters they had for themselves. chapter xvi. you are safe; nay, more,--almost triumphant. listen, then, and hear my words of truth. marino falierlo. it was just four o'clock, p.m., when the dawn and the polisson parted company; the former steering on her old course for brest, while the latter continued her cruise. the lugger sailed like a witch, and away she went towards the chops of the channel, on a bow-line; leaving us to stand towards the french coast--close-hauled, also, but on the opposite tack. it is scarcely necessary to dwell on the feelings with which we four, who were eye-witnesses of all that passed, witnessed the proceedings. even diogenes was indignant. as for marble, i have already alluded to his state of mind; and, if i had not, the following dialogue, which took place at sunset, (the first that occurred between us in private since the second capture,--while the french were eating their suppers,) would serve to explain it. "well, miles," the mate drily observed, "whatever we have to do, must be done at once. when shall we begin?--in the middle, or in the morning watch?" "begin _what_, moses?" i asked, a little surprised at the settled manner in which he put his question. "to throw these frenchmen overboard.--of course, you don't mean to let them carry your ship into brest?" "why not? we were bound to brest when we fell in with them; and, if they _will_ take us there, it will only save us the trouble of doing it ourselves." "don't be deceived by any such hope, miles. i've been in the hands of frenchmen, before i knew you; and there is little hope of getting out of them, so long as the ship and cargo will pay for detention. no, no, my dear boy; you know i love you better than anything on 'arth, my dear, old soul of a mother, and little kitty, excepted,--for it wouldn't be religious to like you better than my own flesh and blood,--but, after these two, i like you better than any one on 'arth; and i can't be quiet, and see you run your property into the fire. never let the ship go into france, after what has happened, if you can help it." "can we possibly help it? or do you propose that four men shall re-take this vessel from seventeen?" "well, the odds are not so great, miles," marble rejoined, looking coolly round at the noisy set of little frenchmen, who were all talking together over their soup; certainly not a very formidable band in a hand-to-hand encounter, though full of fire and animation. "there are four of us, and only seventeen of them, such as they are. i rather think we could handle 'em all, in a regular set-to, with fists. there's neb, he's as strong as a jackass; diogenes is another hercules; and neither you nor i am a kitten. i consider you as a match, in a serious scuffle, for the best four among them chaps." this was not said in the least boastingly, though certainly the estimate of comparative force made by my mate was enormously out of the way. it was true, that we four were unusually powerful and athletic men; but it was also true, that six of the french might very well be placed in the same category. i was not subject to the vulgar prejudice of national superiority, i hope; one of the strongest of all the weaknesses of our very weak nature. i have never yet been in a country, of which the people did not fancy themselves, in all particulars, the salt of the earth; though there are very different degrees in the modes of bragging on such subjects. in the present instance, marble had not the least idea of bragging, however; for he really believed we four, in an open onslaught, fire-arms out of the question, might have managed those seventeen frenchmen. i think, myself, we might have got along with twice our number, taking a fair average of the privateer's men, and reducing the struggle to the arms of nature; but i should have hesitated a long time in making an open attack on even them. still, i began to regard my chances of escaping, should we be sent into a french port by the privateer, as far less certain than they had appeared at first. marble had so much to say of the anarchists in france, as he had known them in the worst period of the revolution, and so many stories to tell of ships seized and of merchants ruined, that my confidence in the right was shaken. bonaparte was then in the height of his consular power,--on the point of becoming emperor, indeed,--and he had commenced this new war with a virulence and disregard of acknowledged rights, in the detention of all the english then resident in france, that served to excite additional distrust. whatever may be said of the comprehensiveness and vastness of the genius of napoleon, as a soldier and statesman, i presume few upright and enlightened men can now be found to eulogize his respect for public law. at any rate, i began to have lively misgivings on the subject; and the consultation between my mate and myself terminated in our coming to a resolution to serve the french prize-crew substantially as we had served the english prize-crew, if possible; varying the mode only to suit the new condition of things. this last precaution was necessary, as, in the fulness of my confidence, i had made mons. gallois acquainted with all the circumstances of throwing the fender overboard, and the manner in which we had got possession of the ship. it was not to be expected, therefore, that particular artifice could be made to succeed with him. it must have been the result of prejudice, and of constant reading of articles extracted from the english journals, that influenced me; but i confess it seemed a much easier matter to re-take my ship from seventeen frenchmen, than from twelve englishmen. i was not so besotted as to suppose surprise, or artifice, would not be necessary in either case; but, had the issue been made up on brute force, i should have begun the fray with greater confidence in the first than in the last case. all this would have been very wrong in our particular situation, though, as a rule and as applied to sea-faring men, it might be more questionable. how often, and how much, have i seen reason to regret the influence that is thus silently obtained amongst us, by our consenting to become the retailers of other people's prejudices! one of the reasons why we have so long been mere serviles on this point, is owing to the incompleteness of the establishments of the different leading presses of the country. we multiply, instead of enlarging these enterprises. the want of concentration of talent compels those who manage them to resort to the scissors instead of the pen; and it is almost as necessary for an american editor to be expert with the shears, as it is for a tailor. thus the public is compelled to receive hashes, instead of fresh dishes; and things that come from a distance, notoriously possessing a charm, it gets the original cookery of london, instead of that of their own country. prejudice or not, confidence is not a bad thing when a conflict is unavoidable. it may be well to respect your enemy down to the very moment of making the charge; but, that commenced, the more he is despised, the better. when diogenes and neb were told it would be necessary to go over again the work so lately thought to be completed, neither of the negroes manifested the least concern. diogenes had been in the crisis, as well as neb, and he had got to entertain a very anglican sort of notion of french prowess on the water; and, as for my own black, he would have followed without the slightest remonstrance, wherever "masser mile please to lead." "they's only french," said diogenes, in a philosophical sort of way; "we can handle 'em like children." i would not discourage this notion, though i saw its folly. telling our two supporters to hold themselves ready for an attack, marble and i left them, to cogitate and commence the manner of proceeding. whatever was done, must be done that night; there being reason to think the ship would get in somewhere, next day. the name of our prize-master was le gros. he was not aptly designated, however, being a little, shrivelled, yellow-faced fellow, who did not seem to be a hercules at all. nevertheless, unlike sennit, he was all vigilance and activity. he never left the deck, and, being so near in with the coast, i felt pretty certain we should have his company above board all night. whatever was attempted, therefore, must be attempted in defiance of his watchfulness. nor was this all; additional prudence was necessary, since we were so near the coast as greatly to increase the chance of our being picked up by some other french cruiser, should we even escape from this. extreme caution was our cue, therefore, and marble and i separated, seemingly each to take his repose with a perfect understanding on all these points. mons. le gros paid no attention to the state-rooms, or to the accommodations below. his whole care was bestowed on the ship. apprehension of falling in with some british cruiser, kept his eyes wide open, and his gaze constantly sweeping the horizon, so far as the obscurity would allow. i was incessantly on the alert myself, stealing up from the cabin, as far as the companion-way, at least a dozen times in the course of the night, in the hope of finding him asleep; but, on each occasion, i saw him moving up and down the quarter-deck, in rapid motion, armed to the teeth, and seemingly insensible to fatigue, and all the other weaknesses of nature. it was useless to attempt to find him off his guard, and worn out, marble and myself fell into deep sleep, about three in the morning, out of pure exhaustion. as for the two negroes they slept the entire night, waiting our summons for their rallying to the work. neb, in particular, had all the absence of responsibility that distinguishes the existence of a slave, feeling very much the same unconcern as to the movements of the vessel, as any other human being feels in connection with those of the earth in which he is a passenger. it was ten o'clock when i awoke, refreshed, but disappointed. marble was still snoring in his berth, and i was compelled to give him a call. i could perceive there was a breeze, and that the ship was going through the water fast; by her lurching, she was close hauled. it takes a seaman but a minute or two to throw on his loose attire, and no time was lost on the present occasion. while my mate and i were thus engaged, the former happened to cast a look out of the cabin windows, which were open on account of the warmth of the weather, and offered no obstruction to a long view of the ocean directly in our wake. "halloo, miles!" marble exclaimed; "by jove, we are chased! such is the secret of mr. frog's being so much alive this fine morning. yonder comes a frigate, or my name is not oloff marble." a frigate there was, sure enough. she was about two leagues astern of us, and resembled a pyramidal cloud, moving along the water, so completely were her spars covered with canvass. that she was an englishman was more than probable, from the cruising ground, as well as from the fact of the prize-crew running from her. in that day, no french ship-of-war loitered long at any particular point, her enemies being so numerous as to render pursuit certain, ere many hours could elapse. after determining these facts in our minds, marble and i went on deck. my first look was ahead. to my deep regret there lay the land, actually within three leagues of us! the wind was fresh at north-east, and monsieur le gros appeared to be steering for a group of islands that lay a little, and ever so little, on our lee bow. brest was out of the question; if we could get in with the land, among these islands, it was as much as we could do, before the racer astern would be up to us. the frenchmen were evidently alarmed; an english prison-ship, with all its known horrors, being very vividly placed before their eyes. monsieur le gros screamed, and gave twenty orders in a minute, while the other sixteen men made more noise than would be heard among a thousand americans. heavens! what a clamour these chaps kept up, and all about nothing, too, the ship having every stitch of canvass on her that would draw. i felt like the arab who owned the rarest mare in the desert, but who was coming up with the thief who had stolen her, himself riding an inferior beast, and all because the rogue did not understand the secret of making the mare do her best. "pinch her right ear, or i shall overtake you," called out the arab; and more than twenty times was i disposed to trim the dawn's sails, and send neb to the wheel, in order to escape the disgrace of being overhauled by the frigate. there _was_ a chance for me, however, in this second recapture, and i thought it preferable to let things take their course. my new conquerors might be mystified, whereas, there was little hope for us, should monsieur le gros get in, after such an uproar. in little more than an hour's time, the dawn began to shorten sail, hauling up her courses and top-gallant-sails, rocks showing themselves within half a mile of her. a large boat met as here, coming alongside, as soon as certain who we were. the people in this boat were fishermen, and were so much accustomed to all the movements of the coast, that they understood the nature of the affair as soon as they were apprised of our character. of course they were eagerly questioned touching the possibility of the dawn's being carried in through any of the rocky-looking passages that lay before us. monsieur le gros looked very blank when he was told that all his hopes lay in there being sufficient water in one channel, and of that the fishermen confessed their own ignorance. if the noise and confusion were annoying before these men came alongside, it was astounding afterwards. all this time the frigate was drawing near, fast, and half an hour would certainly bring her within gun-shot. there is something intoxicating in a race. i felt a strong desire to get away from the englishman at the very moment i believed my chances for justice would be worst in the hands of the french. feeling the necessity of losing no time, i now made a lively appeal to monsieur le gros, myself, proposing that we should both go in with the fishing-boat and examine the passage ourselves. by using proper activity, the whole might be done in a quarter of an hour; we should then know whether to carry the ship in, or to run on the rocks and save what we could of the cargo, by means of lighters. order on board ship is out of the question without coolness, silence and submission. a fussy sailor is always a bad sailor; calmness and quiet being the great requisites for the profession, after the general knowledge is obtained. no really good officer ever makes a noise except when the roar of the elements renders it indispensable, in order to be heard. in that day, french ships of war did not understand this important secret, much less french privateers. i can only liken the clamour that was now going on in the dawn's lee-gangway, to that which is raised by dutch fish-women, on the arrival of the boats from sea with their cargoes. to talk of billingsgate in comparison with these women, is to do the holland and flemish ladies gross injustice, english phlegm being far more silent than dutch phlegm. no sooner was my proposition made than it was accepted by acclamation, and the privateersmen began to pour into the boat, heels over head, without order, and i may say without orders. monsieur le gros was carried off in the current, and, when the fishermen cast off, but three frenchmen were left in the ship; all the others had been swept away by a zeal to be useful, that was a little quickened, perhaps, by the horrors of an english prison-ship. even diogenes laughed at the random manner in which we were thus left in possession of our own. there is no question that the french intended to return; while there is no question it was also their intention to go. in short, they were in a tumult, and acted under an impulse, instead of under the government of their reasons. "you will have the complaisance, mons. wallingford," cried le gros, as the boat started away from the ship's side, "to fill the top-sail, and run for the passage, when we wave our hats." "ay--ay," i answered; "leave it to me to fill the top-sails, and to give the john bulls the slip." this was said in french, and it drew cries of "bon!" and of "vive la france!" from all in the boat. what the fellows thought, i will not pretend to say; but if they thought they were to get on board the dawn again, they did not know the men they left behind them. as for the frenchmen who remained, marble and i could have managed them alone; and i was glad they were with us, since they could be made to pull and haul. the ship was under her three top-sails, spanker and jib, when mons. le gros thus singularly gave her up to my control; the main-yard lying square. my first step was to fill the top-sail, and gather way on the vessel. this was soon done; and, keeping away, i stood on towards the rocks, which soon bore on our weather bow, determined to run as near them as i dared, thinking to frighten the englishman so much, as to induce him to keep at arm's-length. i might cast away the ship, it is true; but even this would be preferable to falling again into english hands, with all the occurrences still so recent. a year or two later, the affair of the speedy's men might be forgotten; but while a thing is fresh, there is always some danger of its creating feeling. at least, thus i reasoned, and thus i acted. once more i had the dawn under my own orders; and, could i keep the frigate out of gun-shot, i cared very little for mons. le gros. at first, the privateersmen supposed that, in filling away, i merely intended to further their views; but, no sooner did they perceive the ship standing on to leeward of the passage, than the truth seemed to flash on their befogged faculties. this was not until the depth of water was ascertained to be sufficient for their purposes; and such a flourishing of tarpaulins and greasy caps as succeeded, i had not witnessed for many a day. all these signals and calls, however, were disregarded; but away went the dawn, with her yards just rounded in a point, with the wind fairly abeam, coasting along as near the islands as i thought it at all prudent to venture. as for the frigate, she was still keeping her luff, in order to get far enough to windward to make sure of her prey. at this moment, the two ships might have been a league asunder. mons. le gros was no sooner aware of the trick i had played him, than out he dashed with his fishing-boat, making sail in chase, and helping his dull craft along with half a dozen oars. seeing this, i let the fore-sail drop, and sheeted home and hoisted the main-top-gallant-sail; not that i felt at all afraid of the boat, but because it was my wish to avoid bloodshed, if possible. among the other absurdities the french had committed, in their haste to get away from the frigate, was that of leaving six or eight muskets, with several cartridge-boxes, behind them. with these weapons, it would have been easy for us to have given the privateersmen such a hint, as would not fail to keep them at bay. then i always had my pistols, which were not only valuable implements, but were double-barrelled and well loaded. our only ground of alarm, therefore, came from the englishman. possibly, monsieur le gros thought differently; for his chase was animated, and apparently in earnest. but, notwithstanding all his zeal, the dawn left him astern, going through the water at the rate of about six knots. but the frigate was coming up at the rate of eight knots, making it certain that she would get us under her guns in an hour or two at most, unless some great advantage was obtained over her by means of the complicated navigation, and shallow water. when at bordeaux, the previous year, i had purchased a chart of the french coast, with a book containing directions similar to those which are to be found in our own "coasting pilot." as a matter of course, i had them both with me, and i found them of great service on this occasion. the text described the islands we were near as being separated by narrow channels of deep water, in which the danger was principally owing to sunken rocks. it was these rocks that had induced the fishermen to pronounce the passages impracticable; and my coasting directions cautioned all navigators to be wary in approaching them. the dawn, however, was in precisely the situation which might render these rocks of the last service to her; and, preferring shipwreck to seeing my vessel in either english or french hands, again, i determined to trust to the very dangers of the navigation as my safeguard. i might go clear of the bottom, but it was certain, if i kept outside, i could not escape from the frigate. an accidental occurrence, in connection with the boat, favoured us, and i was not slow to profit by the advantage it offered. finding it impossible to come up with the ship by keeping in her wake, monsieur le gros had taken a short cut, in the boat, between some islets that we were obliged to round, and he actually came out ahead of us. instead of endeavouring to close with the ship, however, he led into an excessively narrow passage, making furious gestures for us to follow. this was at the instant when the frigate fired her first gun at us, the shot of which just fell a very little short. did we pass the channel in which monsieur le gros had carried the boat, we should fall to leeward of the whole group of islands, --or _islets_, would be the better word,--when all would literally depend on our heels. there was but a moment in which to decide; in another minute, the ship would be past the opening, which could only be regained by tacking, if it could be regained at all. i gave the order to luff. our three frenchmen, fancying themselves now certainly bound to _la belle_ france, were as active as cats. neb and diogenes throwing their powerful force on the braces with a good-will, too, we soon had the dawn braced sharp up, heading well to windward of the passage. monsieur le gros was delighted. apparently, he thought all was right, again; and he led the way, flourishing both hands, while all in the boat, fishermen inclusive, were bawling, and shouting, and gesticulating, in a way that would certainly have confused us, had i cared a straw about them. i thought it well enough to follow the boat; but, as for their cries, they were disregarded. had monsieur le gros seen fit to wait for the ship in the narrowest part of the inlet, he might have embarrassed us; but, so far from this, he appeared to be entirely carried away by the excitement of the chase, and was as eager to push ahead, as a boy who was struggling to be first in at the goal. it was a nervous instant when the dawn's bow first entered the narrow passage. the width, from rock to rock, speaking only of visible things, might have been thirty fathoms; and this strait narrowed, rather than widened, for several hundred feet, until it was reduced fully one-third. the tide ran like a mill-tail, and it was, perhaps, lucky for us that there was no time for reflection or irresolution; the aspect of things being so serious as might well have thrown the most decided man into uncertainty and doubt. the current sucked the vessel in, like the maelstrom, and we were whirling ahead at a rate that would have split the ship from her keel to her top-timbers, had we come upon a sunken rock. the chances were about even; for i regarded the pilotage as a very random sort of an affair. we glanced on in breathless expectation, therefore; not knowing but each instant would involve us in ruin. this jeopardy endured about five minutes. at the end of that brief space, the ship had run the gauntlet for the distance of a mile, driven onward by the current rather than by the wind. so tremendous was our velocity in the narrowest part, that i actually caught myself grasping the rail of the ship, as we glanced past the rocks, as if to keep myself from a fall. the french gave a loud and general shout just as the boat issued out of this race-way into a wide capacious bay, within the group of islands, which had the appearance of forming a roadstead of some note. there was a battery on the end of the last island, a light-house and a cluster of fishermen's huts; all indicating that the place was one of considerable resort. monsieur le gros was waiting for us, about two cable's-lengths from the place where we issued into the bay, having considerately chosen an anchorage for us, at a point commanded by the four six-and-thirty pounders of the battery. the distance enabled me to look about. within the range of islands was a sort of sound, quite a league in width, and on this sound the main coast presented several bays in which coasters were at anchor. most of the prominent points had small batteries, of no great force as against a fleet, or even against a single heavy ship, but which were sufficiently formidable to keep a sloop of war or a frigate at a respectable distance. as all the guns were heavy, a vessel passing through the middle of this sound would hardly be safe; more especially did the gunners do their duty. by anchoring at the spot where the boat waited for us, we at once gave up the ship to the privateersmen, the battery first mentioned commanding that point completely. as good luck would have it, however, an expedient offered, in the direction of the wind and tide, which were opposed to each other, and i availed myself of the circumstance as promptly as possible. do our best, the dawn could not fetch the spot where the boat had dropped her kedge. we passed within hail of it, notwithstanding, and loud were the calls to us to shorten sail and anchor, as we came within hearing. affecting to be anxious to get up to the precise point where the boat lay, i mystified monsieur le gros in my answers, telling him i would stand on a short distance, or until i could fetch him, when i would tack. as this was intelligible it satisfied my captors, though a hundred "_n'importes_" were yelled after us; and "_n'importe_" it was, in fact, one spot being just as good to anchor in as another, for half a league all round us. the dawn did her duty that day; and there was occasion for it, the frigate still continuing the chase. the circuit she had to make, and the berth she thought it prudent to give the first battery, enabled us to gain on her materially. when we passed the boat, the englishman's upper sails were visible on the outside of the island, flying along the rocks at a rate that spoke well of his heels. he rounded the point when we were mid-sound, but here the battery served us a good turn, for, instead of hauling up close by the wind, the english were obliged to run off with the wind free, to keep out of harm's way. their presence, notwithstanding, was probably of great service to the dawn, for here had been a communication between monsieur le gros and the battery, by means of a small boat sent from the latter, and we should have been very likely to have a messenger, in the shape of a shot, sent after us, when it was seen we continued to stand across for the main instead of tacking for the designated anchorage, had not the men in the battery had the higher game of the frigate in view. as soon as john bull got within range, the gunners began to play on him, but it was at a distance that rendered their fire next to useless. any one in the least acquainted with the movements of ships, will understand the advantage we now possessed. the dawn was beating through a good wide passage, with a young flood breasting her to windward, and a steady six-knot breeze blowing. the passage between these islands and the main was about four leagues long, while that which the fishermen had wished us first to enter was near the middle of the group. we were already a mile from the boat, and considerably to windward of her, the tide having done that much for us, when mons. le gros saw fit to lift his kedge, and commence a new pursuit. he had the sagacity to see that we should soon be obliged to tack, on account of the main coast, and to stand over towards the island, again: accordingly, instead of following in our wake, he profited by the set of the current, and pulled directly to windward, with a view to cut us off. all this we very plainly saw, but we cared very little for mons. le gros and his boat. the ship could out-sail the last, very easily, in such a breeze, and it was always in our power to tack in mid-channel, instead of crossing her, or coming near her, at all. the frigate gave me much more trouble. the englishman, as i afterwards learned, was a french-built ship called the fortunée; or, as jack termed her, now she had got to be designated in the anglo-saxon dialect, the fortu_nee_ which was liberally rendered into the vernacular as the "happy-go-lucky." she was an old ship, but an exceedingly fast one, and her commander had rendered himself famous by the manner in which he ventured about on the french coast. this was the third time he had gone through this very sound in spite of the batteries; and having some experience in the windings and turnings, he was now much better able to get along scatheless, than on the two former occasions. as soon as he thought himself at a safe distance from the six-and-thirties, he hauled up, and made five short stretches near the main, where he had much the best of the tide, and the whole strength of the breeze, and where there was nothing to molest him; the usual roadstead being under the island of course. the first hour sufficed to let me understand there was no chance of escaping the frigate; if we continued to beat up through the passage, we might reach its western end a little in advance of her it is true, but no hope at all of getting away, would remain when we again reached the open ocean, and she in-shore of us. in this dilemma, marble made one of his happy suggestions, my merit amounting to no more than seizing the right moment, and carrying out his idea with promptitude. the passage first named lay in a line with us, and we had every reason to believe the ship could go through it. when we were invited to enter, the tide was not as high by six feet, as it had now risen to be, and my mate suggested the expedient of trying it, in going out. "the englishman will never dare follow on account of the battery which lies on the side of it," he added, "whereas the french will not fire at us, believing us to be escaping from a common enemy." the whole force of what had been said flashed upon me, in an instant. i set the tri-color over a british ensign, to cause the people of this second battery to think us an english prize, and stood straight for the pass, just without which lay a small brig at anchor. in order to make the deception more complete, we hauled up our courses, and let run the top-gallant halyards, as if ready to bring up. seeing this, mons. le gros fancied we were about to anchor under the battery, and that we had hoisted our flags to taunt the english, for caps and hats were waved in exultation in the boat, then distant from us a quarter of a mile. we passed close to the brig; which greeted us with acclamations and "_vives la france_," as we swept by her. my eye was on the battery, the whole time. it was built to command the roadstead, and without any reference to the pass, which no enemy would be apt to attempt. it is true, two heavy guns bore on this entrance, but they were in a detached work, that was never manned except in emergencies. i drew a long breath, and felt a mountain removed from my very soul, as the ship passed out of the range of the last gun in the little semi-circle. the soldiers were making gestures to us to indicate we were getting too far west for a good berth, but we heeded them not. instead of shortening sail, the fore and main tacks were boarded, and the top-gallant-sails set. this revealed our intention, and the clamour on the shore even reached the ship. preparations were making to get a piece of light artillery to bear on us, and some twenty gunners began to scamper towards the detached battery. the whole thing was now reduced to a sheer race. we passed the last battery ten minutes before the french could reach it, the latter having to go round a considerable bay; and six minutes later, we went out to sea, with the american ensign, and jacks, and pennants flying at each mast-head, and wherever else such an emblem of triumph could be shown! chapter xvii. "o, i am out of breath in this fond chase! the more my prayer, the lesser is my grace." shakspeare. marble and i looked each other in the face, and then burst into a laugh, as the french fired a single shot from the two-gun battery, which flew beyond us, but which could scarcely hit us on account of some intervening rocks. i altered the course of the ship in order to get a little more out of the range; after this, we had nothing to fear from the french. the boat did not attempt to follow us, and thus ended our communication with _le polisson_ and her people, a that time. as for la fortunée, it would require at least four hours for her to beat round the end of the cluster of islands, and seeing the hopelessness of doing this in time to overtake such a ship as the dawn, her commander made a dash in at the unfortunate brig, which he actually succeeded in cutting out from the roadstead, in spite of all the defences of the place. the last i _heard_ of these gentlemen, was the reports of the guns that were exchanged between the battery and the frigate, while the last i _saw_ of them, was the smoke that floated over the spot, long after the islands had sunk beneath the horizon. the dawn stood directly out to sea, with the wind still at the northward, though it had drawn more through the pass in-shore. "well, miles," cried marble, as he and i sat eating our dinner on deck, where neb had been ordered to serve it, "you know what i've always said of your luck. it's proof ag'in every thing but providence! die you must and will, some of these times; but, not until you've done something remarkable. sail with you, my boy! i consider your company a standing policy of insurance, and have no sort of consarn about fortin, while i'm under your orders. with any other man, i should be nothing but a bloody hermit, instead of the dutiful son and affectionate uncle i am. but, what do you mean to perform next?" "i have been thinking, moses, our best step will be to shape our course for hamburg, whither we are bound. this northerly wind can't last long at this season, and another south-wester would just serve our turn. in ten days, or a fortnight, we might make our haven." "and then those french chaps that are attacking yonder kid of pork, as if it were a wild beast; the fellows never saw good solid food before!" "feed them well,--treat them well--and make them work. they would never think of troubling us; nor do i suppose they know anything of navigation. i see they smoke and chew; we will give 'em as much tobacco as their hearts can wish, or their mouths hold; and this will keep them in good humour." "and john bull?" "why, john is another sort of a person to deal with, certainly, i am not sure that a third english cruiser would molest us. we can keep our own secret concerning sennit and his party; and we may not meet with another, after all. my plan is to run close in with the english coast, and show our colours boldly;--now, nine in ten of the british men-of-war will let us pass unquestioned, believing we are bound to london, unless they happen to have one of those pressing gentry, like sennit, on board. i have often been told that ships which pass close in with the english coast, generally pass unquestioned; by the large craft, uniformly;--though they may have something to apprehend from the brigs and cutters. your small-fry always give the most trouble, moses." "we have not found it so this v'y'ge, miles. however, you're not only captain, but you're owner; and i leave you to paddle your own canoe. we must go somewhere; and i will not say your plan is not as good as any i can start, with thirty years more of experience." we talked the matter over, canvassing it in all its bearings, until it was settled to adopt it. the ship was steered large, until the french coast was entirely sunk; and then we trimmed her by the wind, heading up as near to our course as the breeze would permit. nothing occurred in the course of the remainder of the day to produce either trouble or uneasiness, though my three frenchmen came to certain explanations with me, that at first menaced a little difficulty. they refused to work; and i was compelled to tell them, i should put them on board the first english vessel of war we met. this had the desired effect; and, after an amicable discussion, i agreed to pay them high wages on our arrival in a friendly port: and they agreed to serve me as well as they knew how. seven men were rather less than half a crew for a vessel of the dawn's size, but it was possible to get along with that number. the steering was the hardest part of the duty--neither of the frenchmen being able to take his trick at the helm. we got along with the necessary work, however; and so glad were we all to be rid of both english and french, that i hazard little in saying, we would have endured twice as much, cheerfully, could we be certain of meeting no more of their cruisers. providence had ordered matters very differently. that night the wind shifted again to the southward and westward. we braced in the yards, and brought the ship to her course; but i thought it best not to carry sail hard in the dark. accordingly, i left orders to be called at sunrise, marble having the watch at that hour. when i came on deck, in consequence of this summons, i found my mate examining the horizon with some earnestness, as if be were looking for strangers. "we are a merry party this morning, captain wallingford," marble cried out, as soon as he saw me. "i have found no less than six sail in sight, since the day dawned." "i hope that neither is a lugger. i feel more afraid of this polisson, just now, than of all the names in christendom. that fellow must be cruising in the chops of the channel, and we are working our way well in towards that part of the world." "i hope so too, sir; but this chap, out here at north-west has a suspicious, lugger-like look. it may be that i see only the heads of his top-sails, but they are amazingly like luggs!" i now took a survey of the ocean for myself. the vessel marble distrusted, i unhesitatingly pronounced to be a lugger; quite as likely the polisson as any other craft. the other four vessels were all ships, the five forming a complete circle, of which the dawn was in the centre. the lugger, however, was some miles the nearest to us, while as to the strangers, if they saw each other across the diameter of the circle at all, it was as much as was possible. under the circumstances, it struck me our wisest way was to keep steadily on our course, like honest people. marble was of the same opinion, and to say the truth, there was little choice in the matter, the ship being so completely surrounded. the worst feature of the case was our position, which would be certain to draw all the cruisers to the centre, and consequently to ourselves. two hours produced a material change. all five of the strangers had closed in upon us, and we were now able to form tolerably accurate notions of their characters. the two astern, one on our larboard, and one on our starboard quarter, were clearly heavy vessels and consorts, though of what nation it was not yet so easy to decide. that they were consorts was apparent by their signalling one another, and by the manner in which they were closing; as they carried studding-sails, alow and aloft, they were coming up with us fast, and in all probability would be alongside in two or three hours more. two of the ships ahead struck me as frigates, having their broadsides exposed to us: we had raised one line of ports, but it was possible they might turn out to be two-deckers; ships of war they were, beyond all question, and i fancied them english from the squareness of their upper sails. they, too, were consorts, making signals to each other, and closing fast on opposite tacks. the lugger was no longer equivocal: it was the polisson, and she was standing directly for us, though it was ticklish business, since the remaining ship, a corvette, as i fancied, was already in her wake, carrying sail hard, going like a witch, and only about two leagues astern. monsieur gallois had so much confidence in his heels, that he stood on, regardless of his pursuer. i thought it best to put a bold face on the matter, knowing that sufficient time might be wasted to enable the sloop of war to get near enough to prevent the privateer from again manning us. my principal apprehension was, that he might carry us all off, in revenge for what had happened, and set fire to the ship. against either of these steps, however, i should offer all the resistance in my power. it was just ten o'clock when the polisson ranged up abeam of us the second time, and we hove-to. it was evident the french recognised us, and the clamour that succeeded must have resembled that of babel, when the people began first to converse without making themselves understood. knowing we had no small boat, monsieur gallois lost no time, but lowering a yawl of his own, he came alongside of us in person. as i had commanded the three frenchmen to remain below, he found no one on deck but marble, diogenes, neb and myself. "parbleu, monsieur vallingfort!" exclaimed the privateersman, saluting me very civilly notwithstanding appearances--"_c'est bien extraordinaire_! vat you do vid me men--eh! put 'em in ze zea, _comme avec le anglais_?" i was spared the necessity of any explanation, by the sudden appearance of my own three prisoners, who disregarded my orders, and came rushing up to their proper commander, open-mouthed and filled with zeal to relate all that had passed. the whole three broke out at once, and a scene that was sufficiently ludicrous followed. it was a continued volley of words, exclamations, oaths, and compliments to the american character, so blended, as to render it out of the question that mons. gallois could understand them. the latter found himself obliged to appeal to me. i gave a very frank account of the whole affair, in english; a language that my captor understood much better than he spoke. mons. gallois had the rapacity of a highwayman, but it was singularly blended with french politeness. he had not always been a privateersman--a calling that implies an undue love of gold; and he was quite capable of distinguishing between right and wrong, in matters in which his own pocket had no direct concern. as soon as he comprehended the affair, he began to laugh, and to cry "bon!" i saw he was in a good humour, and not likely to resent what had happened; and i finished my history in somewhat sarcastic language, portraying mons. le gros's complaisance in quitting the ship and in piloting her about the bay, a little drily, perhaps. there were sundry "_sacr-r-r-es_" and "_bêtes_" uttered the while; but all came out freely and without anger, as if mons. gallois thought a good joke the next thing to a good prize. "_tenez, mon ami!_" he cried, squeezing my hand, as he looked round at the corvette, now less than a league distant. "you are vat you anglais call 'good fellow.' _j'admire votre esprit!_ you have escape _admirablement_, and i shall have _vifs regrets_ now to 'ave _opportunité_ to _cultiver votre connaissance. mais_, i most laafs,--_mille pardons_,--you àve _non_ too moch peep's, _mais c'est impossible d'abandonner mes compatriots. allons, mes enfants; au cânot_." this was the signal for the french to quit us; the three men i had shipped taking their departure without ceremony. mons. gallois was the last in the boat, of course; and he found time to squeeze my hand once more, and to renew his "_vifs regrets_" at not having more leisure to cultivate my acquaintance. the corvette was already so near, as to render it necessary for the polisson to be in motion; another time, perhaps, we might be more fortunate. in this manner did i part from a man who had not scrupled to seize me in distress, as he would a waif on a beach. by manning me, the prize-crew would have fallen into the hands of the enemy; and, making a merit of necessity, mons. gallois was disposed to be civil to those whom he could not rob. odd as it may seem, i felt the influence of this manner, to a degree that almost reconciled me to the act before committed, although the last was just as profligate and illegal as any that could well be committed. of so much more importance, with the majority of men, is manner than matter; a very limited few alone knowing how to give to the last its just ascendency. the polisson was not long in gathering way, after her boat was hoisted in. she passed, on the crest of a wave, so near, that it was easy to distinguish the expressions of her people's faces, few of which discovered the equanimity of that of their commander's; and to hear the incessant gabbling that was kept up on board her, day and night, from "morn 'till dewy eve." m. gallois bowed complaisantly, and he smiled as amiably as if he never had put a hand in another man's pocket; but his glass was immediately turned towards the corvette, which now began to give him some little uneasiness. manning us, indeed, with that fellow surging ahead at the rate he was, would have been quite out of the question. being reduced to our old number of four, i saw no use in working ourselves to death, by filling the top-sail, with the certainty the sloop-of-war would make us round-to again. the dawn, therefore, remained stationary, wailing the issue with philosophical patience. "there is no use, moses, in endeavouring to escape," i remarked; "we are not strong-handed enough to get sail on the ship before the fellow will be up with us." "ay, and there goes his bunting, and a gun," answered the mate. "the white english ensign, a sign the chap is under some admiral, or vice, or rear of the white, while, if i mistake not, the two frigates show blue flags--if so, 'tis a sign they're not consorts." the glass confirmed this, and we were left to suppose that all three englishmen did not belong to the same squadron. at this moment, the state of the game was as follows:--the dawn was lying-to, with her fore-course up, main-sail furled, main-top-sail aback, and top-gallant yards on the caps, jib and spanker both set. the polisson was flying away on the crests of the seas, close-hauled, evidently disposed to make a lee behind the two frigates to windward, which we took for, and which it is probable she _knew_ to be, french. the ships to leeward were passing; each other within hail; the one to the eastward tacking immediately after, and coming up in her consort's wake; both vessels carrying everything that would draw. the ships to the southward, or the supposed frenchmen, might then have been two leagues from us, while those to leeward were three. as for the corvette, her course seemed to lie directly between our masts. on she came, with everything beautifully trimmed, the water spouting from her hawse-holes, as she rose from a plunge, and foaming under her bows, as if made of a cloud. her distance from us was less than a mile. it was now that the corvette made signals to the ships to windward. they were answered, but in a way to show the parties did not understand each other. she then tried her hand with the vessels to leeward, and, notwithstanding the distance, she succeeded better. i could see these two frigates, or rather the one that led, sending questions and answers to the corvette, although my best glass would hardly enable me to distinguish their ensigns. i presume that the corvette asked the names of the english vessels, communicated her own, and let the fact be known that the ships to windward were enemies. a few minutes later, our affairs, as they were connected with the sloop-of-war, came to a crisis. this ship now came on, close under our lee, losing a little of her way in passing, an expedient probably thought of to give her a little more time to put her questions, and to receive the desired answers. i observed also, that she let go all her bow-lines, which seemed much to deaden her way, of which there still remained sufficient, notwithstanding, to carry her well clear of us. the following dialogue then passed, the englishman asking the questions, of course, that being a privilege expressly appropriated to the public vessel on occasions of this sort: "what ship's that?--and whither bound?" "dawn, of new york, miles wallingford, from home to hamburg." "did not the lugger board you?" "ay--ay--for the second time, in three days." "what is she called?--and what is her force?" "le polisson, of brest--sixteen light guns, and about a hundred men." "do you know anything of the ships to windward?" "nothing, at all; but i suppose them to be french." "pray, sir, why do you sup--um--um--ook--ook--" the distance prevented my hearing more. away went the sloop, steadying her bow-lines; the call piping belay, as each sail was trimmed to the officer of the deck's fancy. in a few more minutes, we could not distinguish even the shrill notes of that instrument. the corvette continued on in chase of the lugger, regardless of the four other vessels, though the two to windward now showed the _tri-color,_ and fired guns of defiance. mons. gallois soon after tacked, evidently disposed to stand for the frigates of his country; when the sloop-of-war immediately went round, also, heading up towards these very vessels, determined to cut off the lugger, even if it were to be done by venturing within range of the shot of her protectors. it was a bold manoeuvre, and deserved success, if it were only for its spirit and daring. i thought, however, that the frigates of the tri-color paid very little attention to the lugger. by altering their course a trifle, it would have been in their power to cover her completely from the attempts of the corvette; but, instead of doing this, they rather deviated a little the other way, as if desirous of approaching the two ships to leeward, on the side that would prevent their being cut off from the land. as neither party seemed disposed to take any notice of us, we filled our top-sail, and stood out of the circle, under easy canvass, believing it bad policy to have an appearance of haste. haste, however, was a thing out of our power, it requiring time for four men to make sail. about eleven, or half-past eleven, the four frigates were distant from each other rather more than a league--the dawn being just then half a league from the two frenchmen, and rather more distant from the english. had an action then commenced, we might have been a mile out of the line of fire. curious to know the result, i stood on a short distance farther, and backed my top-sail, to await the issue. i was influenced to take this course, from an expectation that either party, after a conflict with an equal, would be less disposed to molest a neutral, and that i might possibly obtain assistance from the conqueror--few cruisers being found at that day, without having foreigners on board, that they would be willing to give to a vessel in distress. as for the account i meant to give to the party to whom i intended to apply, it would depend on circumstances. if the french remained on the spot, i could relate the affair with the prize-crew of the speedy; if the english, that of the polisson. in neither case would an untruth be told, though certain collateral facts might be, and probably would have been, suppressed. the frenchmen began to haul down their light sails, just as we hove-to. this was done in a lubberly and irregular manner, as if little concert or order prevailed on board them. marble prowled out his remarks, deeming the whole proceeding a bad omen for the _tri-color._ it is certain that the french marine, in , was not a service to boast of. the english used to say, that they seldom got a french ship without working for her; and this was probably true, as the nation is warlike, and little disposed to submit without an effort. still, france, at that day, could hardly be said to be maritime; and the revolutions and changes she had undergone were not likely to favour the creation of a good corps of naval officers. brave men were far more plenty than skilful seamen; and then came the gabbling propensity, one of the worst of all human failings, to assist in producing a disorderly ship. it was a pretty sight to see those four ships strip for the fight; although the french canvass did not come down exactly according to rule. the english, however, were in no hurry; the two tri-color men being under their three top-sails, spankers, and jibs, with the top-gallant-sails clewed up, before john bull reduced even a royal. the latter, it will be remembered, were to leeward, and had to close with their adversaries. in doing this, they made one stretch so far in our direction, in the hope of tacking in their enemies wakes, that i saw they would probably speak us. i confess this was more than i had bargained for; but it was now too late to run, which would probably have led to our seizure i determined, therefore, to await the result with dignity. just as the english ships were coming within musket-shot of the dawn, the french,--then distant about a mile and a half to the eastward, and half a mile south of us,--wore ship, and came round with their heads to the westward--or, in our direction. as this was coming nearer, instead of moving from them, the englishmen began to start their tacks and sheets, in order to be ready. their six royals were all flying at the same instant, as were their flying-jibs; at the next, the canvass was rolled up, and out of sight. then, the yards, themselves, came down, and all the light sails about the ships vanished as a bird shuts its wings. after this the courses were hauled up snug, but the sails were not handed. by this time, the leading ship of these two frigates was within a cable's-length of us, just luffing up sufficiently to give our weather-quarter the necessary berth. "by george, miles," marble said, as he stood at my side, watching the movements of the stranger, "that second frigate is the speedy! i know her by the billet, and the distance of her bridle-port from her head. you never saw such a space for anchors, before! then, you may see she is a six-and-thirty, with white hammock-cloths. who ever saw that twice, at sea?" marble was right! there came the speedy, sure enough; and doubtless the eyes of lord harry dermond and his officers would be on us, in a very few more minutes--the distance between the two frigates being less than two cable's-lengths. in the mean time, i had to attend to the headmost vessel. "can you tell me anything of the two ships to the southward of us?" demanded the stranger, through his trumpet, without any preamble. "nothing but what you see, sir. i _suppose_ them to be french; and _see_ that they are coming after you," "_after_ us!" exclaimed the english captain, in a voice loud enough, and now near enough, to be heard without the aid of the trumpet. "_after_ us, indeed! ready about--helms a-lee--main-top-sail haul, there! hawl, of all--" these orders came out at brief intervals, and in a voice of thunder--producing prompt obedience. the consequence was, that this ship tacked directly on our weather-beam, and so near us that one might have thrown a biscuit aboard her. but she went round beautifully, scarce losing her way at all; and away she started again, looking her enemies directly in the face. "now's our time to fill, miles, and draw ahead. the speedy will think we've been spoken, and all's right. she must come here to tack into her consort's wake, and a blind man could not avoid reading our name--she would be so close. man the lee-braces, and right the helm, neb." fill we did; and what is more, we put our helm up so much, as to leave quite a cable's-length between us and the speedy, when that ship got far enough ahead to tack, or at the point which we had just left. i believe we were recognised! indeed, it is not easy to imagine otherwise; as the commonest glass would enable the dullest eyes to read our name, were other means of recognition wanting. but a sailor knows a ship by too many signs to be easily deceived. the speedy was in stays when we saw the proofs of our being known. her head-yards were not swung, but there she lay, like one who lingers, uncertain whether to go or to remain. an officer was in her gangway, examining us with a glass; and when the ship fell off so much as to bring us out of the range of sight, he ran off and reappeared on the taffrail. this was the junior lieutenant; i could plainly recognise him with my own glass. others soon joined him, and among them was lord harry dermond, himself. i fancied they even knew me, and that all their glasses were levelled directly at my face. what a moment of intense uncertainty was that! the ships were not a quarter of a mile apart, though the dawn was increasing that distance fast, and by paying broad off, the speedy would have me under her broadside. where was her prize crew i not in the dawn, or certainly sennit would have communicated with his commander; and, if not in the ship, they must be in the ocean! or, were they prisoners below and kept purposely out of sight? all these thoughts must have passed through the minds of the english officers. i thought we were lost, again, but providence once more saved us. all this time the leading english frigate and the two frenchmen were fast approaching each other. in a few minutes, they must engage, while the speedy was left further and further astern of her consort. at this critical instant, one of the frenchmen fired a gun of defiance. that report seemed to arouse the speedy as from a trance. her head-yards came furiously round, all the officers vanished from her taffrail, and down went both fore and main-tacks, and to the mast-head rose all three of her top-gallant-sails. thus additionally impelled, the lively craft dashed ahead, and was soon in her allotted berth, or half a cable's-length astern of the black prince, as i afterwards heard was the name of the commanding english ship, on this occasion. i may as well add here, that the french commodore's ship was named la désirée, and _her_ consort le cerf. mons. menneval was senior officer of the french, and sir hotham ward of the english. i never knew the name of the other french captain; or, if i did, i have forgotten it. my object had been, in bearing up, to get as far as possible from the speedy, in order that she might not recognise us, and especially that she might not read the name on our stern. but this running off so much to leeward, was not precisely the berth that one would wish to occupy, when a sea-fight is going on directly to windward, and within half gun-shot. no sooner was my lord harry dermond in motion again, therefore, than we hauled the dawn up with her head to the westward, with a view to get as soon as possible out of the probable range of the fire. it was true, the combatants might vary their manoeuvres, so as to render all parts of the periphery of a certain circle around them, anything but agreeable; but the chances were greatly in favour of the battle's beginning, with one party to windward of the other. our ship behaved well on this occasion, getting out of the way with sufficient rapidity. while this was in the course of execution, i had an opportunity to look after the corvette and the lugger. the last was still leading, having managed, by means of short tacks, to work up considerably to windward of the two french frigates. here she had made a last tack to the eastward, intending to run for the coast. the sloop-of-war was still in her wake, and was following on her heels, at a rapid rate. chapter xviii. "you and i have known, sir." "at sea, i think." "we have, sir." "you have done well by water." "and you by land." antony and cleopatra. the reader will understand that i offer to his view a shifting panorama. as soon as the dawn had got about a mile and a half from the english frigates, a distance that was a little increased by the advance of the last towards their enemies, we again backed our top-sails, for i had an ungovernable desire to be a spectator of what was to follow. this feeling was common to all four of us, it being next to impossible to get either neb, or diogenes, to pull a rope, for gazing at the frigates. as for steering, it would have been out of the question, i really believe, as no one among us could keep his eyes long enough from the combatants to look after our own ship. some persons may think it was foolish not to make the most of our time in endeavouring to get as far as possible from the speedy. perhaps it was; but, two miles distant, there was really less to apprehend than might at first appear. it was not probable the english would abandon the french vessels as long as they could stick by them, or, until they were captured; and i was not so completely ignorant of my trade as to imagine that vessels like those of la grande nation, which were in sight, were to be taken without doing their adversaries a good deal of harm. then, the prizes themselves would require looking after, and there were many other chances of our now going scot-free, while there was really very small ground of danger. but, putting aside all these considerations, curiosity and interest were so active in us all, as to render it almost morally impossible we should quit the place until the battle was decided. i am not absolutely certain the dawn _would_ have moved, had we been disposed to make her. with these brief explanations, then, we will turn our attention exclusively to the frigates. by the time we had got the dawn just where we wished her to be, the combatants were drawing quite near to each other. the speedy had carried sail so long, as to be a little to windward of her consort's wake, though half a cable's-length astern of her. the french were in still closer order, and they would soon be far enough advanced to bring the leading ship on each side, under fire. i supposed the opposing vessels would pass about a cable's-length apart. all four were under their top-sails, jibs, and spankers, with the courses in the brails. the black prince and the speedy had their top-gallant-sails clewed up, while la désirée and le cerf had theirs still sheeted home, with the yards on the caps. all four vessels had sent down royal-yards. this was fighting sail, and everything indicated that monsieur menneval intended to make a day of it. the first gun was fired, on this occasion, from the désirée, the leading french ship. it was directed at the black prince, and the shot probably told, as sir hotham ward immediately kept away, evidently with a desire to escape being raked. the french did the same to keep square with their adversaries, and the four vessels now ran on parallel lines, though going different ways, and a short cable's-length asunder. la désirée followed up her single gun with each division as it would bear, until her whole broadside was delivered. the black prince stood it all without answering, though i could see that she was suffering considerably, more especially aloft. at length sir hotham ward was heard in the affair. he let fly his whole broadside, almost simultaneously; and a spiteful, threatening roar it was. the smoke now began to hide his ship, though la désirée, by moving towards us, kept ahead of her own sulphurous canopy. the speedy soon opened on the french commodore; then, by the roar astern, i knew le cerf was at work in the smoke. all four ships shivered their top-sails, to pass more slowly; and there was a minute during which, as it appeared to me, all four actually stopped under the fiery cloud they had raised, in order to do each other all the harm they could. the frenchmen, however, soon issued from behind the curtain, and the cessation in the firing announced that the ships had parted. i could not see much of the english, at first, on account of the smoke; but their antagonists came out of the fray, short as it had been, with torn sails, crippled yards, and le cerf had her mizen top-mast actually hanging over to leeward. just as i got a view of this calamity, i caught a glimpse of the black prince, close-hauled, luffing up athwart the wake of her enemies, and manifestly menacing to get the wind. the speedy followed with the accuracy of clock-work, having rather closed with her leader, instead of falling farther behind. presently, the black prince tacked; but, in so doing, down came her main-top-gallant-mast, bringing with it the yard and the sail, as a matter of course. this was a sign that mr. menneval had not been firing a salute. the french stood on, after this first rude essay with their enemies, for several minutes, during which time we could see their people actively, but irregularly, employed, in clearing away the wrecks, stoppering rigging, and otherwise repairing damages. le cerf, in particular, was much troubled with the top-mast that was dangling over her lee-quarter; and her people made desperate and tolerably well-directed efforts to get rid of it. this they effected; and about ten minutes after the firing had ceased, the french ships put their helms up, and went off to the northward, dead before the wind, as if inviting their enemies to come on and fight it out fairly in that manner, if they felt disposed to pursue the affair any farther. it was time something of this sort was done, for the delay had brought all four of the vessels so far to the westward, as to leave them within a mile of the dawn; and i saw the necessity of again getting out of the way. we filled and stood off, as fast as possible. it was time something of the sort was done, in another sense, also. when m. menneval bore up, his antagonists were closing fast on his weather-quarter, and unless he meant to fight to leeward, it was incumbent on him to get out of the way, in his turn. sir hotham ward, however, was too skilful a seaman to neglect the advantage mons. menneval had given him. the instant the french kept away, he did the same; but instead of falling broad off before the wind, he luffed again in time, not having touched a brace, and crossed the wakes of his enemies, giving a most effective broadside into the cabin-windows of le cerf. to my surprise, la desiree held on her course, until the speedy had repeated the dose. the english then wore short round, and were seemingly on the point of going over the same thing, when mons. menneval, finding this a losing game, hauled up, firing as his guns bore, and le cerf did the same, with her head the other way, destroying everything like concert in their movements. the english closed, and, in a minute, all four of the ships were enveloped in a common cloud of white smoke. all we could now see, were the masts, from the trucks down, sometimes as low as the tops, but oftener not lower than the top-sail-yards. the reports of the guns were quite rapid for a quarter of an hour, after which they became much less frequent, though a hundred pieces of ordnance were still at work behind that cloudy screen. several shot flew in our direction; and two actually passed between our masts. notwithstanding, so keen was the interest we continued to feel, that the top-sail was again backed, and there we lay, lookers-on, as indifferent to the risks we ran, as if we had been ashore. minute passed after minute, until a considerable period had been consumed; yet neither of the combatants became fairly visible to us. occasionally a part of a hull pushed itself out of the smoke, or the wind blew the latter aside; but at no time was the curtain sufficiently drawn, to enable us to tell to which nation the vessel thus seen belonged. the masts had disappeared,-- not one remaining above the smoke, which had greatly enlarged its circle, however. in this manner passed an hour. it was one of the most intensely interesting of my whole life; and to me it seemed a day, so eager was i to ascertain some result. i had been several times in action, as the reader knows; but, then, the minutes flew: whereas, now, this combat appeared drawn out to an interminable length. i have said, an hour thus passed before we could even guess at the probable result. at the end of that time, the firing entirely ceased. it had been growing slacker and slacker for the last half-hour, but it now stopped altogether. the smoke which appeared to be packed on the ocean, began to rise and disperse; and, little by little, the veil rose from before that scene of strife. the vessel first seen by us was our old acquaintance, the speedy. all three of her top-masts were gone; the fore, just below the cross-trees; and the two others near the lower caps. her main-yard had lost one yard-arm, and her lower rigging and sides were covered with wreck. she had her fore-sail, mizen, and fore-stay-sail, and spanker set, which was nearly all the canvass she could show. our eyes had barely time to examine the speedy, ere the dark hull of le cerf made its appearance. this ship had been very roughly treated,--nothing standing on board her, twenty feet from the deck, but her foremast: and the head of that was gone, nearly down to the top. the sea all around her was covered with wreck; and no less than three of her boats were out, picking up men who were adrift on the spars. she lay about a cable's-length from the speedy, and appeared to be desirous of being still farther off, as she had no sooner got her boats up, than she dropped her fore-sail, and stood off dead before it. it was in watching the movements of le cerf, that we first got a glimpse of la désirée. this ship reappeared almost in a line with her consort; and, like her, steering off before the wind. their common object seemed to be, to get within close supporting distance of each other, and to increase the space between them and their enemies. both these vessels had the tri-colored flag flying at the stumps of their masts. as respects the last, however, la désirée was a little better off than her consort--having her foremast and main-mast standing entire;--though her mizen-mast was gone, close to the deck. what was a very bad affair for her, her fore-yard had been shot away in the slings, the two inner ends lying on the forecastle, while the yard-arms were loosely sustained by the lifts. this ship kept off under her main-sail and fore-stay-sail. the black prince was the last to get clear of the smoke. she had everything in its place, from her top-mast cross-trees, down. the three top-gallant-masts were gone, and the wrecks were already cleared; but all the top-sail-yards were on the caps, and her rigging, spars and tops, were alive with men; as, indeed, were those of the speedy. this was the secret of the cessation in the action;--the two english frigates having turned their hands up to secure their spars, while the frenchmen, by running off dead before the wind, were in positions not to bring a broadside gun to bear; and the cabin-chasers of a frigate were seldom of much use in that day, on account of the rake of the stern. it always appeared to me, that the spaniards built the best ships in this respect,--the english and americans, in particular, seeming never to calculate the chances of running away. i do not say this, in reference to the spanish ships, however, under any idea that the spanish nation wants courage,--for a falser notion cannot exist,--but, merely to state their superiority in one point of naval architecture, at the very moment when, having built a fine ship, they did not know how to make use of her. the first ten minutes after the four combatants were clear of the smoke, were actively employed in repairing damages, on the part of the french confusedly, and i make no doubt clamorously; on that of the english with great readiness and a perfect understanding of their business. notwithstanding this was the general character of the exertions of the respective parties, there were exceptions to the rule. on board le cerf, for instance, i observed a gang of men at work clearing the ship from the wreck of the main-mast, who proceeded with a degree of coolness, vigour and method, which showed what materials were thrown away in that service, for want of a good system; and chiefly, as i shall always think, because the officers did not understand the immense importance of preserving silence on board a crowded vessel. the native taciturnity of the english, increased by the social discipline of that well-ordered--perhaps over-ordered--nation, has won them as many battles on the ocean, as the native loquacity of their enemies--increased possibly during the reign of _les citoyens_ by political exaggeration--has lost. it is lucky for us, that the american character inclines to silence and thoughtfulness, in grave emergencies: we are noisy, garrulous, and sputtering, only in our politics. perceiving that the storm was likely to pass to leeward, we remained stationary a little time, to watch the closing scene. i was surprised at the manner in which the black prince held aloof after the speedy had bore up and was running down in the track of her enemies, sheering first upon one quarter of le cerf, and then on the other, pouring in a close and evidently a destructive fire. at length sir hotham ward bore up, and went off before the wind also, moving three feet to the speedy's two, in consequence of being able to carry all three of her top-sails. it would seem that monsieur menneval was not satisfied with the manner in which his consort was treated; for, instead of waiting to be assailed in the same way, he put his helm to port and came by the wind, delivering a broadside as his ship luffed, that soon explained the reason of the black prince's delay. that ship had been getting up preventers to save her masts, and something important must have been cut by this discharge from la desiree, as her main-mast went immediately after she received the fire, dragging down with it her mizen-top-mast. the english ship showed stuff, however, under circumstances so critical. everything on the foremast still drew, and she continued on, heading direct for her enemy, nor did she attempt to luff until within two hundred yards of her, when she came by the wind slowly and heavily; a manoeuvre that was materially aided by the fore-top-mast's following the spars aft, just as her helm must have been put to-port. le cerf finding the battle was again to be stationary, also came by the wind, and then all four of the ships went at it again, as ardently as if the affair had just commenced. it would not be easy to relate all the incidents of this second combat. for two hours the four ships lay within a cable's-length of each other, keeping up as animated a contest as circumstances would allow. i was particularly struck with the noble behaviour of the black prince, which ship was compelled to fire through the wreck of her masts notwithstanding which, she manifestly got the best of the cannonading, as against tier particular antagonist, la desiree. i cannot say that either of the four vessels failed of her duty, though, i think, as a whole, sir hotham ward showed the most game; probably from the fact that he had the most need of it. encumbered by so much wreck, of which it was impossible to get rid, while exposed to so heavy a fire, the black prince, however, was finally dropped by her adversary, la desiree drawing gradually ahead, until neither of those two vessels could bring a gun to bear. the english now turned to, to clear away wreck again, while the frenchman bent a new fore-course, and a new spanker; those that had been standing being reduced to rags. the speedy and cerf had not been idle the while. the french vessel played her part manfully, nor was there much to choose between them, when the latter wore round, and followed her consort, exchanging a fire with the black prince in passing her. had not the real superiority of the english over the french on the ocean, now come in play, this combat would have been a drawn battle, though accompanied by the usual characteristics of such struggles, at the close of the last and the beginning of the present century; or the latter considering an escape ti sort of victory. but both parties were reduced to the necessity of repairing damages, and this was the work to prove true nautical skill. any man may load and fire a gun, but it needs a trained seaman to meet the professional emergencies of warfare. a clodhopper might knock a mast out of a vessel, but a sailor must replace it. from the beginning of this affair, all of us in the dawn had been struck with the order, regularity and despatch with which the black prince and speedy had made and shortened sail, and the quickness and resource with which they had done all that seamanship required in securing wounded spars and torn sails; while, there had been no end to marble's sneers and comments on the bungling confusion of the french. this difference now became doubly apparent, when there was no smoke nor any cannonading to divert the attention of the respective crews. in half an hour the black prince was clear of the wreck, and she had bent several new sails, while the difficulties on board her antagonist appeared just then to be at their height. this same difference existed between the two other vessels, though, on the whole, le cerf got out of her distress sooner and more skilfully than her consort. as to the speedy, i must do my old acquaintance, lord harry dermond, the justice to say, that he both fought his ship, and repaired his damages, in a highly seaman-like manner. i'll answer for it, the hon. lieut. powlett had not much to do with either. he had much better been in his mother's drawing-room, that day, and permitted a more fitting man to fill his place. sennit was then on his way to barbadoes, however, nor do i believe your master of a press-gang ever does much before an enemy. fully two hours passed, during which the combatants were busy in repairing damages. at the end of this time, la desirée and le cerf had drawn more than a mile to the eastward of the english ships; the latter following them, as soon as clear of their wrecks, but under diminished sail. the black prince had actually got up three spare top-masts, in the interval, and was now ready to set their sails. the speedy was less active, or less skilful, though she, too, had not been idle. then the english drove fast towards their enemies. mons. menneval bore up in good season, this time, edging away, and opening the fire of both ships on his adversaries, when they were about half a mile distant. the effect of this early movement was soon apparent, it being a great mistake to reserve a ship's fire, as against an enemy that approaches nearly bows on. m'donough owed his victory in plattsburg bay, to having improved so favourable a chance; and the french were beaten at the nile, because they did not; though nelson probably would have overcome them, under any circumstances; the energy imparted by one of his character, more than counterbalancing any little advantage in tactics. on the present occasion, we could see the fire of the french taking effect on the black prince's spars, as soon as they opened her batteries. as the mattter was subsequently explained in the official account, that ship's lower masts were badly wounded before she sent up the new top-masts, and, receiving some further injuries, stick began to come down after stick, until nothing was left of all her hamper, but three stumps of lower masts, the highest less than twenty feet above the deck. sir hotham ward was now in the worst plight he had been, in that day, his ship being unable to advance a foot, her drift excepted, until everything was cut away. to the landsman it may appear a small job to cut ropes with axes, and thus liberate a vessel from the encumbrance and danger of falling spars; but the seaman knows it is often a most delicate and laborious piece of duty. the ocean is never quiet; and a vessel that is not steadied by the pressure of her sails, frequently rolls in a way to render it no slight task even to maintain one's footing on her decks; frigates and ships of the line frequently proving more inconvenient than smaller vessels, under such circumstances. there was one fortunate occurrence to the british, connected with this disaster. the french had been so thoroughly bent on dismasting the black prince, that they paid little attention to the speedy; that ship actually passing a short distance to windward of her consort, unnoticed and unharmed. as the french were going to leeward the whole time, it enabled the speedy to get out of the range of their guns, before she bore up. as soon as this was effected, she followed her enemies, under twice as much canvass as they carried themselves. of course, in less than half an hour, she was enabled to close with le cerf, coming up on one of her quarters, and opening a heavy fire close aboard her. all this time, the black prince remained like a log upon the water, trying to get clear of her wreck, the combat driving slowly away from her to leeward. her men worked like ants, and we actually heard the cheers they raised, as the hull of their ship forged itself clear of the maze of masts, yards, sails, and rigging, in which it had been so long enveloped. this was no sooner done, than she let fall a sail from her sprit-sail-yard, one bent for the occasion, and a top-gallant-sail was set to a light spar that had been rigged against the stump of the main-mast; the stick that rose highest from her deck. as the battle, like a gust in the heavens, was passing to leeward, marble and i determined to fill, and follow the combatants down, the course being precisely that we wished to steer. with a view, however, to keep out of the range of shot, we hauled the dawn up to the eastward, first, intending to keep her away in the wake of the black prince. of course we were in no hurry, it now being in our power to go six feet to that ship's one. in executing our purpose, we passed close to the wreck of the english frigate's spars. there they were rolling about on the troubled water, and we actually saw the body of a man caught in some of the rigging, as the sea occasionally tossed it to the surface. the poor fellow had probably gone over with the mast and been drowned before assistance could be rendered. with an enemy escaping, man-of-war's-men are not very particular about picking up the bodies of their dead. i did not venture to run the dawn directly down in the englishman's wake, but we kept her off and on, rather, taking good care not to go within a mile of her. all this time the speedy was playing upon the cerf's quarter. the latter ship becoming too crippled to luff, while mons. menneval was travelling off to leeward, unmolested, having obtained an advantage in the way of speed, that he was unwilling to put in any jeopardy, by coming again under fire. this officer did not want for spirit, but the french had got to be so accustomed to defeat, in their naval encounters with the english, that, like several other nations on the land, they had begun to look upon victory as hopeless. the cerf was very nobly fought. notwithstanding the disadvantages under which she laboured, that ship held out until the black prince had actually given her a close broadside on her larboard quarter; the speedy being kept the whole time on her starboard, with great skill, pouring in a nearly unresisted fire. the cerf struck only as she found that the battle was to be two to one, and under so many other disadvantages, in the bargain. this closed the affair, so far as the fighting was concerned. la desiree standing on unmolested, though, as i afterwards learned, she was picked up next morning by a homeward-bound english two-decker, hauling down her colours without any resistance. the reader may feel some curiosity to know how we fell on board the dawn, during the five hours that elapsed between the firing of the first and the last guns, on this occasion; what was said among us, and how we proceeded as soon as the victory was decided. the last he will learn, in the regular course of the narrative; as for the first, it is soon told. it was not easy to find four men who were more impartial, as between the combatants, than those in the dawn. my early preferences had certainly been in favour of england, as was very generally the case among all the better-educated americans of my period, at least as low down as the war of . but going beyond the scene of internal political discussion, and substituting observation for the eulogies and sophisms of the newspapers, had wrought divers changes in my opinion. england was then no more to me than any other nation; i was not of the french school of politics, however, and kept myself as much aloof from one of these foreign schools of political logicians as from the other. i may be said to have been born a federalist; but this change of sentiment had prevented my ever giving a federal vote since attaining my majority. marble had entertained a strong dislike for england, ever since the revolution. but, at the same time, he had inherited the vulgar contempt of his class for frenchmen; and i must own that he had a fierce pleasure in seeing the combatants destroy each other. had we been near enough to witness the personal suffering inflicted by the terrible wounds of a naval combat, i make no doubt his feelings would have been different; but, as things were, he only saw french and english ships tearing each other to pieces. during the height of the affair, he observed to me:--"if this monsieur gallois, and his bloody lugger, could only be brought into the scrape, miles, my mind would be contented. i should glory in seeing the corvette and the polisson scratching out each other's eyes, like two fish-women, whose dictionaries have given out." neb and diogenes regarded the whole thing very much as i suppose the caesars used to look upon the arena, when the gladiators were the most blood-thirsty. the negroes would laugh, cry "golly!" or shake their heads with delight, when half-a-dozen guns went off together; receiving the reports as a sort of evidence that crashing work was going on, on board the vessels. but i overheard a dialogue between these two children of africa, that may best explain their feelings: "which you t'ink whip, neb?" diogenes asked, with a grin that showed every ivory tooth in his head. "i t'ink 'em bot' get it smartly," answered my fellow. "you see how a speedy make quick work, eh?" "i wish 'em go a _leetle_ nearer, neb.--some shot nebber hit, at all." "dat always so, cook, in battle. dere! dat a smasher for john bull!" "he won't want to press more men just now. eh! neb?" "now you see johnny crepaud catch it! woss! dat cracks 'e cabin winders!" "what dat to us, neb? s'pose he eat one anoder, don't hurt us!" here the two spectators broke out into a loud fit of laughter, clapping their hands, and swinging their bodies about, as if the whole thing were capital fun. diogenes was so much delighted when all the black prince's spars went, that he actually began to dance; neb regarding his antics with a sort of good-natured sympathy. there is no question that man, at the bottom, has a good deal of the wild beast in him, and that he can be brought to look upon any spectacle, however fierce and sanguinary, as a source of interest and entertainment. if a criminal is to be executed, we always find thousands, of both sexes and all ages, assembling to witness a fellow-creature's agony; and, though these curious personages often have sentimental qualms during the revolting spectacle itself, they never turn away their eyes, until satisfied with all that there is to be seen of the terrible, or the revolting. a word must be added concerning an acquaintance-monsieur gallois. just as the black prince's masts went, i saw him, a long way to windward, stretching in towards the coast, and carrying sail as hard as his lugger would bear. the corvette was still close at his heels; and marble soon after drew my attention towards him, to observe the smoke that was rising above the sloop-of-war. the distance was so great, and the guns so light, that we heard no reports; but the smoke continued to rise until both vessels went out of sight, in the south-western board. i subsequently learned that the lugger escaped, after all. she was very hard pressed, and would have been captured, had not the english ship carried away her main-top-gallant-mast, in her eagerness to get alongside. to that accident, alone, did m. gallois owe his escape. i trust he and m. le gros had a happy meeting. chapter xix. "the sea wax'd calm, and we discovered two ships from far making amain to us, of corinth that, of epidaurus this: but on they came,--o, let me say no more! gather the sequel by that went before." comedy of errors. it was high time for the dawn to be doing. of all the ships to leeward, the speedy, the vessel we had most reason to apprehend, was in the best condition to do us harm. it was true that, just then, we might outsail her, but a man-of-war's crew would soon restore the balance of power, if it did not make it preponderate against us. i called to my mate, and we went aft to consult. "it will not do for us to remain any longer here, moses," i began; "the english are masters of the day, and the speedy's officers having recognised us, beyond all doubt, she will be on our heels the moment she can." "i rather think, miles, her travelling, for some hours to come, is over. there she is, however, and she has our crew on board her, and it would be a good thing to get some of them, if possible. if a body had a boat, now, i might go down with a flag of truce, and see what tarms could be made." i laughed at this conceit, telling marble he would be wise to remain where he was. i would give the speedy four hours to get herself in tolerable sailing trim again, supposing her bent on pursuit. if in no immediate hurry, it might occupy her four-and-twenty hours. "i think she may be disposed to follow the other french frigate, which is clearly making her way towards brest," i added, "in which case we have nothing to fear. by george! there goes a gun, and here comes a shot in our direction--you can see it, moses, skipping along the water, almost in a line between us and the frigate.--ay, here it comes!" all this was literally true. the speedy lay with her bows towards us, and she had suddenly fired the shot to which i alluded, and which now came bounding from wave to wave, until it struck precisely in a line with the ship, about a hundred yards distant. "halloo!" cried marble, who had levelled his glass towards the frigates.--"there's the deuce to pay down there, miles--one boat pulling this-a-way, for life or death, and another a'ter it. the shot was intended for the leading boat, and not for us." this brought my glass down, too. sure enough, there was a small boat pulling straight for us, and of course directly to windward of the frigate; the men in it exerting every nerve. there were seven seamen in this boat; six at the oars, and one steering. the truth flashed on me in a moment. these were some of our own people, headed by the second-mate, who had availed themselves of the circumstance of one of the speedy's boats being in the water, without a crew, to run away with it in the confusion of the moment. the black prince had taken possession of the prize, as we had previously noted, and that with a single boat, and the cutter in pursuit appeared to me to be coming from the frenchman. i immediately acquainted marble with my views of the matter, and he seized on the idea eagerly, as one probable and natural. "them's our fellows, miles!" he exclaimed; "we must fill, and meet 'em half-way!" it was certainly in our power to lessen the distance the fugitives had to run, by standing down to meet the leading boat. this could not be done, however, without going within reach of the english guns; the late experiment showing unanswerably, that we lay just without the drop of their shot, as it was. i never saw men in a greater excitement, than that which now came over us all in the dawn. fill we did immediately; that, at least, could do no harm, whereas it might do much good. i never supposed for a moment the english were sending boats after us, since, with the wind that was blowing, it would have been easy for the dawn to leave them miles behind her, in the first hour. each instant rendered my first conjecture the most likely to be true. there could be no mistaking the exertions of the crews of the two boats; the pursuers seemingly doing their best, as well as the pursued. the frigate could no longer fire, however, the boats being already in a line, and there being equal danger to both from her shot. the reader will understand that large ships seldom engage, when the ocean will permit it, without dropping one or more of their boats into the water; and that warm actions at sea rarely occur, without most of the boats being, more or less, injured. it often happens that a frigate can muster only one or two boats that will swim, after a combat; and frequently only the one she had taken the precaution to lower into the water, previously to engaging. it was owing to some such circumstance that only one boat followed the fugitives in the present instance. the race must necessarily be short; and it would have been useless to send a second boat in pursuit, could one be found, after the first two or three all-important minutes were lost. the dawn showed her ensign, as a sign we saw our poor fellows struggling to regain us, and then we filled our main-top-sail, squaring away and standing down directly for the fugitives. heavens! how that main-yard went round, though there were but three men at the braces. each of us hauled and worked like a giant. there was every inducement of feeling, interest and security to do so. with our present force, the ship could scarcely be said to be safe; whereas, the seven additional hands, and they our own people, who were straining every nerve to join us, would at once enable us to carry the ship direct to hamburg. our old craft behaved beautifully. neb was at the wheel, the cook on the forecastle, while marble and i got ropes cleared away to throw to the runaways, as soon as they should be near enough to receive them. down we drove towards the boat, and it was time we did, for the cutter in pursuit, which pulled ten oars, and was full manned, was gaining fast on the fugitives. as we afterwards learned, in the eagerness of starting, our men had shipped the crest of a sea, and they were now labouring under the great disadvantage of carrying more than a barrel of water, which was washing about in the bottom of their cutter, rendering her both heavy and unsteady. so intense was the interest we all felt in the result of this struggle, that our feelings during the battle could not be compared to it. i could see marble move his body, as a sitter in a boat is apt to do, at each jerk of the oars, under the notion it helps the party along. diogenes actually called out, and this a dozen times at least, to encourage the men to pull for their lives, though they were not yet within a mile of us. the constant rising and setting of the boats prevented my making very minute observations with the glass; but i distinguished the face of my second-mate, who was sitting aft, and i could see he was steering with one hand and bailing with the other. we now waved our hats, in hopes of being seen, but got no answering signal, the distance being still too great. at that moment i cared nothing for the guns of the english ship, though we were running directly for them. the boat--the boat, was our object! for that we steered as unerringly as the motion of the rolling water would allow. it blew a good working breeze; and, what was of the last importance to us, it blew steadily. i fancied the ship did not move, notwithstanding, though the rate at which we drew nearer to the boat ought to have told us better. but, anxiety had taken the place of reason, and we were all disposed to see things as we felt, rather than as we truly found them. there was abundant reason for uneasiness; the cutter astern certainly going through the water four feet, to the other's three. manned with her regular crew, with everything in order, and with men accustomed to pull together, the largest boat, and rowing ten oars to the six of my mate's, i make no doubt that the cutter of the black prince would have beaten materially in an ordinary race, more especially in the rough water over which this contest occurred. but, nearly a tenth full of water, the boat of the fugitives had a greatly lessened chance of escape. of course, we then knew no more than we could see; and we were not slow to perceive how fast the pursuers were gaining on the pursued, i really began to tremble for the result; and this so much the more, as the larger cutter was near enough, by this time, to permit me to discover, by means of the glass, the ends-of several muskets, rising out of her stern-sheets. could she get near enough for her officers to use these weapons, the chance of our people was gone,--since it was not to be even hoped they had any arms. the end approached. the dawn had got good way on her--marble and diogenes having dragged down the main-top-gallant sheets, and hoisted the sail. the water foamed under our bows; and the boat was soon so near, it became indispensable to haul our wind. this we did with the ship's head to the westward, without touching a brace, though we luffed sufficiently to throw the wind out of all the square sails. the last was done to deaden the vessel's way, in order that the fugitives might reach her. the struggle became frightful for its intenseness! our men were so near, we could recognise them without the aid of a glass; with it, i could read the glowing anxiety that was in my second-mate's countenance. each instant, the pursuers closed, until they were actually much nearer to the pursued than the latter were to the dawn. for the first time, now, i suspected the truth, by the heavy movement of the flying cutter, and the water that the second-mate was constantly bailing out of her, using his hat. marble brought up the muskets left by the privateersmen, and began to renew their primings. he wished to fire at once on the pursuing boat--she being within range of a bullet; but this i knew would not be legal. i promised to use them should the english attempt to board the ship, but did not dare to anticipate that movement. nearer and nearer came the boats, the chasing gaining always on the chased; and now, the black prince and the speedy each threw a shot quite over us. we were about a mile from the three frigates--rather increasing than lessening that distance, however, as they drifted to leeward, while we were slightly luffing, with our yards a little braced up, the leeches lifting. neb steered the ship, as one would have guided a pilot-boat. he had an eye for the boats, as well as for the sails--knew all that was wanted, and all that to be done. i never saw him touch a wheel with so delicate a hand, or one that better did its duty. the dawn's way was so much deadened as to give the fugitives every opportunity to close, while she was steadily coming up abreast of their course, in readiness to meet them. at this instant, the officer in the black prince's cutter fired into that of the speedy; and one of our men suddenly dropped his oar. he was hit. i thought the poor fellow's arm was broken, for i could see him lay a hand on the injured part, like a man who suffered pain. he instantly changed places with the second-mate, who, however, seized his oar, and began to use it, with great power. three more muskets were fired, seemingly without doing any harm. but the leading boat lost by this delay, while its pursuers held steadily on. our own people were within a hundred and fifty yards of us--the english less than twenty behind them. why the latter did not now fire, i do not actually know; but i suppose it to be, because their muskets were all discharged, and the race was now too sharp to allow their officer to re-load. possibly he did not wish to take life unnecessarily, the chances fast turning to his side. i called out to marble to stand by with a rope. the ship was slowly drawing ahead, and there was no time to be lost. i then shouted to my second-mate to be of good heart, and he answered with a cheer. the english hurrahed, and we sent back the cry from the ship. "stand by in the boat, for the rope!" i cried--"heave, moses--heave!" marble hove from the mizen chains, the rope was caught, and a motion of my hand told neb to keep the ship off, until everything drew. this was done, and the rattling of the clew-garnet blocks announced that diogenes was hauling down the main-tack with the strength of a giant. the sail opened, and moses and i hauled in the sheet, until the ship felt the enormous additional pressure of this broad breadth of canvass. at this instant there was a cheer from the boat. leaping upon the taffrail, i saw the men erect, waving their hats, and looking toward the pursuing cutter, then within a hundred feet of them, vainly attempting to come up with a boat that was now dragging nearly bows under, and feeling all the strength of our tow. the officer cheered his men to renewed exertion, and he began to load a musket. at this moment the tow-line slipped from the thwart of the boat, and we shot away, as it seemed to me, a hundred feet, on the send of the very next sea. there was not time for the americans to get seated at their oars again, before the other cutter grappled. all that had been gained was lost, and, after so near and close a chance of recovering the most valuable portion of my crew, was i again left on the ocean with the old four to manage the dawn! the english lieutenant knew his business too well, to abandon the ship while there was a chance of recovering her. the wind lulled a little, and he thought the hope of success worth an effort. merely taking all the oars out of the speedy's cutter, he dashed on in our wake. at first he gained, nor was i unwilling he should, for i wished to speak him. the main and fore-sheets were eased off, and neb was told to keep the top-sails lifting. thus favoured, he soon got within fifty yards of us, straining every nerve to get nearer. the officer pointed a musket at me, and ordered me to heave-to. i jumped off the taffrail, and, with my body covered to the shoulders, pointed one of the french muskets at him, and warned him to keep off. "what have you done with the prize-crew put on board you from the speedy, the other day?" called out the lieutenant. "sent them adrift," i answered. "we've had enough of prize-crews in this ship, and want no more." "heave-to, sir, on the pain of being treated as a pirate also." "ay, ay--" shouted marble, who could keep silent no longer--"first catch a pirate. fire, if you are tired of your cruise. i wish them bloody frenchmen had stopped all your grog!" this was neither dignified nor politic, and i ordered my mate to be silent. in a good-natured tone i inquired for the names of the late combatants, and the losses of the different ships, but this was too cool for our pursuer's humour, and i got no answer. he did not dare fire, however, finding we were armed, and, as i supposed, seeing there was no prospect of his getting easily on board us, even should he get alongside, he gave up the chase, returning to the captured boat. we again filled and trimmed everything, and went dashing through the water at the rate of seven knots. the frigates did not fire at us, after the guns already mentioned. why, i cannot positively say; but i thought, at the time, that they had too many other things to attend to, besides seeing the little chance there was of overtaking us, should they even happen to cripple a spar or two. great was the disappointment on board the dawn, at the result of the final incidents of this eventful day. marble swore outright; for no remonstrances of mine could cure him of indulging in this habit, especially when a little excited. diogenes grinned defiance, and fairly shook his fists at the boat; while neb laughed and half-cried in a breath--the sure sign the fellow's feelings were keenly aroused. as for myself, i felt as much as any of the party, but preserved more self-command. i saw it was now necessary to quit that vicinity, and to take some definite steps for the preservation of my own ship and property. there was little to apprehend, however, from the frigates, unless indeed it should fall calm. in the latter case, they might board us with their boats, which an hour or two's work would probably enable them to use again. but i had no intention of remaining in their neighbourhood, being desirous of profiting by the present wind. the sails were trimmed accordingly, and the ship was steered northwesterly, on a course that took us past the three vessels of war, giving them so wide a berth as to avoid all danger from their batteries. as soon as this was done, and the dawn was travelling her road at a good rate, i beckoned to marble to come near the wheel, for i had taken the helmsman's duty on myself for an hour or two: in other words, i was doing that which, from my boyish experience on the hudson, i had once fancied it was not only the duty, but the _pleasure_, of every ship-master to do, viz: steering! little did i understand, before practice taught me the lesson, that of all the work on board ship, which jack is required to do, his trick at the wheel is that which he least covets, unless indeed it may be the office of stowing the jib in heavy weather. "well, moses," i began, "this affair is over, and we've the atlantic before us again, with all the ports of europe to select from, and a captain, one mate, the cook, and one man to carry the ship where we please to take her." "ay, ay--'t has been a bad job, this last. i was as sure of them lads, until the lieutenant fired his musket, as ever i was of a good land-fall with a fair wind. i can't describe to you, miles, the natur' of the disapp'intment i felt, when i saw 'em give up. i can best compare it to that which came over me, when i discovered i was nothing but a bloody hermit, after all my generalizing about being a governor and a lord high admiral of an island, all to myself, as it might be." "it can't be helped, and we must take things as we find them. the question is, what is to be done with the ship? should we venture into the channel, yonder chaps will be after us with the news of a yankee, on board of whom they put a prize-crew, being adrift without the men; and there are fifty cruisers ready to pick us up. the news will spread all over the channel in a week, and our chances of getting through the straits of dover will be so small as not to be worth naming: nay, these fellows will soon repair damages, and might possibly overtake us themselves. the speedy is only half-crippled." "i see--i see. you've a trick with you, miles, that makes a few words go a great way. i see, and i agree. but an idee has come to my mind, that you're welcome to, and after turning it over, do what you please with it. instead of going to the eastward of scilly, what say you to passing to the westward, and shaping our course for the irish channel? the news will not follow us that-a-way, for some time; and we may meet with some american, or other, bound to liverpool. should the worst come to the worst, we can pass through between ireland and scotland, and work our way round cape wrath, and go into our port of destination. it is a long road, i know, and a hard one in certain seasons of the year, but it may be travelled in midsummer, comfortably enough." "i like your notion well enough, marble, and am ready to carry it out, as far as we are able. it must be a hard fortune, indeed, that will not throw us in the way of some fisherman, or coaster, who will be willing to let us have a bend or two, for double wages." "why, on that p'int, miles, the difficulty is in the war, and the hot press that must now be going. the english will be shy in visiting the opposite coast; and good men are hard to find, just now, i'm thinking, floating about the coasts of england, unless they are under a pennant." "a hand, or two, that can steer, will be an immense relief to us, moses, even though unable to go aloft. call neb to the wheel, then, and we'll go look at the chart, so as to lay our course." all was done, accordingly. in half an hour, the dawn was steering for the western coast of england, with everything set we thought it prudent to carry. two hours after we began to move away from the spot where they lay, the frigates had sunk behind the curvature of the earth, and we lost sight of them altogether. the weather continued good, the breeze steady and fresh, and the dawn did her duty admirably. we began to get accustomed to our situations, and found them less arduous than had been apprehended. the direction of the wind was so favourable, that it kept hope alive; though we trebled our distance by going round the british islands, instead of passing directly up channel. twenty-four hours were necessary to carry us as far north as the land's end, however; and i determined to be then governed by circumstances. should the wind shift, we always had the direct route before us; and i had my doubts whether putting a bold face on the matter, running close in with the english shore, and appearing to be bound for london, were not the wisest course. there certainly was the danger of the speedy's telling our story, in which case there would be a sharp look-out for us; while there was the equal chance that she might speak nothing for a week. eight-and-forty hours ahead of her, i should not have feared much from her account of us. it is unnecessary to dwell minutely on the events of the next few days. the weather continued good, the wind fair and our progress was in proportion. we saw nothing until we got within two leagues of scilly light, when we were boarded by a pilot-boat out from those islands. this occurred at sunrise, with the wind light at north-east, and one sail in sight to windward, that had the appearance of a brig-of-war, though she was still hull down, and not heading for us. i saw that the smallness of our crew, and the course we were steering, struck these pilots, the moment they had time to ascertain the first fact. it was not usual, in that day, nor do i suppose it is now, for deep-laden americans to pass so near england, coming from the south-east and steering to the north-west. a remark to this effect fell from the mouth of the principal pilot, as soon as i told him i did not wish to go in to any of the neighbouring ports. "i am short of hands, and am desirous of obtaining three or four good men," i said, "who shall be well paid for their services, and sent back, without cost, to the place whence they came." "ay, i see you've a small crew for so stout a craft, master," the pilot answered. "may i ask what has happened to bring you down so low?" "why, you know how it is among your cruisers, in war-time--an english frigate carried away all hands, with the exception of these you see." now, this was true to the ear, at least, though i saw, plainly enough, that i was not believed. "it's not often his majesty's officers shave so close," the pilot answered, with a sort of sneer i did not like. "they commonly send in hands with a ship, when they find it necessary to take her own men." "ay, i suppose the laws require this with english vessels; with americans, they are less particular; at all events, you see the whole of us, and i should be very glad to get a hand or two, if possible, out of your cutter." "where are you bound, master?--before we ship, we'd like to know the port we sail for." "hamburg." "hamburg! why, master, you're not heading for hamburg, at all, which lies up the _english_, not up the _irish_ channel." "i am well aware of all that. but i am afraid to go into the english channel so short-handed. those narrow waters give a man trouble, unless he has a full crew." "the channel is a good place to find men, master. however, none of us can go with you, and no words be necessary. as you've no occasion for a pilot, we must be off a'ter something else." the fellow now left me, without more words, and i saw there was no use in attempting to detain him. he had got a league from us, and we were jogging on our course, before we discovered he was making signals to the brig, which had kept dead away, and had set studding-sails on both sides. as this was carrying much more sail than we could venture to show, i thought our chance of escape small indeed. there was the whole day before us, with a light, and doubtless fast-sailing cruiser in chase of a heavily-loaded merchantman. as a stern-chase is, proverbially, a long chase, however, i determined to do all we could to avoid the gentleman. sail was made, accordingly, so far as we dared, and the ship was steered a little off, as her best mode of sailing, in her present trim. we saw the brig speak the pilot-boat, and, from that moment, were certain her commander had all the conjectures of the scilly man added to his own. the effect was soon to be noted, for when the two separated, the cutter stood in for her own rocks, while the brig renewed her chase. that was an uneasy day. the man-of-war gained, but it was quite slowly. she might beat us by a knot in the hour, and, being ten miles astern, there was still the hope of its falling dark before she could close. the wind, too, was unsteady, and towards noon it grew so light, as to reduce both vessels to only two or three knots way. of course, this greatly lessened the difference in our rate of sailing, and i had now strong hopes that night might come, before our pursuers could close. nor was i disappointed. the wind continued light until sunset, when it came out a fine breeze at north-west, bringing us dead to windward of the brig, which was then distant some six miles. we got the proper sail on the ship, as fast as we could, though the cruiser was dashing ahead under everything she could carry, long before we could get through with the necessary work. when we did get at it, notwithstanding, i found she had not much the advantage of us, and now began to entertain some hopes of shaking her off in the course of the night. marble was confident of it, and his confidence, on points of seamanship, was always entitled to respect. about ten, both vessels were on the starboard tack, standing to the southward and westward, or out towards the broad atlantic, with the brig about a league under the dawn's lee, and a little forward of her beam. this was the most favourable position for us to be in, in order to effect our purpose, since the cruiser had already passed her nearest point to us, on that tack. the horizon to windward, and all along the margin of the sea at the northward, was covered with clouds, which threatened, by the way, a capfull of wind. this dark back-ground would be likely to prevent our being seen; and the instant the night shut in the outline of the brig's canvass, i ordered our helm put down. it was lively business, tacking such a ship as the dawn, under so much canvass, and in such a breeze, with four men! the helm was lashed hard down, and at it we went, like so many tigers. the after-yards swung themselves though the main-tack and sheet gave us a good deal of trouble. we braced everything aft, sharp up, before we left it, having first managed to get the fore-yard square. when this was done, we filled all forward, and dragged the yards and bow-lines to their places, with a will that seemed irresistible. there were no means of knowing whether the brig came round, about this time, or not. agreeably to the rule of chasing, she should have tacked when directly abeam, unless she fancied she could eat us out of the wind by standing on. we knew she did not tack when directly abeam, but we could not see whether she came round after us, or not. at all events, tack or not, she must still be near a league under our lee; and we drove on, towards the english coast, until the day reappeared, not a man of us all sleeping a wink that night. how anxiously we watched the ocean astern, and to leeward, as the returning light slowly raised the veil of obscurity from before us! nothing was in sight, even when the sun appeared, to bathe the entire ocean in a flood of glory. not even a white speck in-shore; and as for the brig, we never saw or heard more of her. doubtless she stood on, on the old course, hoping gradually to close with us, or to draw so far ahead and to windward, as to make certain of her prey in the morning. according to our reckoning, the ship was now heading well up towards the coast of wales, which we might expect to make in the course of the next four-and-twenty hours, should the wind stand. i determined, therefore, to make the best of the matter, and to go directly up the irish channel, hoping to fall in with some boat from the north shore, that might not have as apt intellects on board it, as those of our scilly pilot had proved to be. we stood on, consequently, all that day; and another sun set without our making the land. we saw several vessels at a distance, in the afternoon; but we were now in a part of the ocean where an american ship would be as little likely to be disturbed as in any i know. it was the regular track of vessels bound to liverpool,--and these last were as little molested as the want of men would at all permit. could we get past that port, we should then be in the way of picking up half a dozen irishmen. chapter xx. "och! botheration--'t is a beautiful coost all made up of rocks and deep bays; ye may sail up and down, a marvellous host, and admire all its beautiful ways." irish song. little did we, or could we, anticipate all that lay before us. the wind held at north-west until the ship had got within twenty miles of the welsh coast; then, it came out light, again, at the southward. we were now so near liverpool, that i expected, every hour, to make some american bound in. none was seen, notwithstanding, and we stood up channel, edging over towards the irish coast at the same time, determined to work our way to the northward as well as we could. this sort of weather continued for two days and nights, during which we managed to get up as high as whitehaven, when the wind came dead ahead, blowing a stiff breeze. i foresaw from the commencement of this new wind, that it would probably drive us down channel, and out into the atlantic once more, unless we could anchor. i thought i would attempt the last, somewhere under the irish coast, in the hope of getting some assistance from among the children of st. patrick. we all knew that irish sailors, half the time, were not very well trained, but anything that could pull and haul would be invaluable to us, in heavy weather. we had now been more than a week, four of us in all, working the ship, and, instead of being in the least fagged, we had rather got settled into our places, as it might be, getting along without much trouble; still, there were moments when a little extra force would be of great moment to us, and i could see by the angry look of the skies, that these moments were likely to increase in frequency and in the magnitude of their importance to us. the waters we were in were so narrow, that it was not long before we drew close in with the irish coast. here, to my great joy, we saw a large fishing-boat, well out in the offing, and under circumstances that rendered it easy for those in it to run close under our lee. we made a signal, therefore, and soon had the strangers lying-to, in the smooth water we made for them, with our own main-yard aback. it is scarcely necessary to say, that we had gradually diminished our own canvass, as it became necessary, until the ship was under double-reefed top-sails, the fore-course, jib and spanker. we had brought the top-sails down lower than was necessary, in order to anticipate the time when it might be indispensable. the first of the men who came on board us was named terence o' something. his countenance was the droll medley of fun, shrewdness, and blundering, that is so often found in the irish peasant, and which appears to be characteristic of entire races in the island. "a fine marnin', yer honour," he began, with a self-possession that nothing could disturb, though it was some time past noon, and the day was anything but such a one as a seaman likes. "a fine marnin', yer honour, and _as_ fine a ship! is it fish that yer honour will be asking for?" "i will take some of your fish, my friend, and pay you well for them." "long life to yees!" "i was about to say, i will pay you much better if you can show me any lee, hereabouts, which has good holding-ground, where a ship might ride out the gale that is coming." "shure yer honour!--will i _not_? shure, there's nivver the lad on the coost, that knows betther what it is yer honour wants, or who'll supply yees, with half the good will." "of course you know the coast; probably were born hereabouts?" "of coorse, is it? whereabouts should terence o' something, be born, if it's not hereabouts? is it know the coost, too? ah, we're ould acquaintances." "and where do you intend to take the ship, terence?" "it's houlding ground, yer honour asked for?" "certainly.--a bottom on which an anchor will not drag." "och! is it _that_? well, _all_ the bottom in this counthry is of that same natur'. none of it will drag, without pulling mighty hard. i'll swear to any part of it." "you surely would not think of anchoring a ship out here, a league from the land, with nothing to break either wind or sea, and a gale commencing?" "i anchor! divil the bit did i ever anchor a ship, or a brig, or even a cutther. i've not got so high up as that, yer honour: but yon's ould michael sweeny, now; many's the anchor he's cast out, miles at a time, sayin' he's been a sayman, and knows the says from top to bottom. it's michael ye'll want, and michael ye shall have." michael was spoken to, and he clambered up out of the boat, as well as he could; the task not being very easy, since the fishermen with difficulty kept their dull, heavy boat out of our mizen chains. in the mean time, marble and i found time to compare notes. we agreed that mr. terence mcscale, or o' something,--for i forget the fellow's surname,--would probably turn out a more useful man in hauling in mackerel and john dorys, than in helping us to take care of the dawn. nor did michael, at the first glance promise anything much better. he was very old,--eighty. i should think,--and appeared to have nullified all the brains he ever had, by the constant use of whiskey; the scent of which accompanied him with a sort of parasitical odour, as that of tannin attends the leather-dresser. he was not drunk just then, however, but seemed cool and collected. i explained my wishes to this man; and was glad to find he had a tolerable notion of nautical terms, and that he would not be likely to get us into difficulty, like terence, through any ignorance on this score. "is it anchor ye would, yer honour?" answered michael, when i had concluded. "sure, that's aisy enough, and the saison is good for that same; for the wind is getting up like a giant. as for the guineas yer honour mintions, it's of no avail atween fri'nds. i'll take 'em, to obleege ye, if yer honour so wills: but the ship should be anchored if there niver was a grain of goold in the wur-r-r-ld. would ye like a berth pratty well out, or would yer honour choose to go in among the rocks, and lie like a babby in its cradhle?" "i should prefer a safe roadstead, to venturing too far in, without a professed pilot. by the look of the land in-shore, i should think it would be easy to find a lee against this wind, provided we can get good holding-grounds that is the difficulty i most apprehend." "trust ould ireland for that, yer honour, yes, put faith in us, for that same. ye've only to fill your top-sail, and stand in; ould michael and ould ireland together, will take care of yees." i confess i greatly disliked the aspect of things in-shore, with such a pilot; but the aspect of things outside was still worse. short-handed as we were, it would be impossible to keep the ship in the channel, should the gale come on as heavily as it threatened; and a single experiment satisfied me, the four men in the boat would be of very little use in working her: for i never saw persons who knew anything of the water, more awkward than they turned out to be on our decks. michael knew something, it is true; but he was too old to turn his knowledge to much practical account, for when i sent him to the wheel, neb had to remain there to assist him in steering. there was no choice, therefore, and i determined to stand close in, when, should no suitable offer, it would always be in our power to ware offshore. the fishing-boat was dropped astern, accordingly, the men were all kept in the ship, and we stood in nearer to the coast: the dawn bending to the blasts, under the sail we carried, in a way to render it difficult to stand erect on her decks. the coast promised well as to formation, though there was much to apprehend on the subject of the bottom. among rocks an anchor is a ticklish thing to confide in, and i feared it might be a difficult matter to find a proper bottom, as far out as i deemed it prudent to remain. but michael, and terence, and pat, and murphy, or whatever were the names of our protesting confident friends, insisted that 'ould ireland' would never fail us. marble and i stood on the forecastle, watching the formation of the coast, and making our comments, as the ship drove through the short seas, buried to her figure-head. at length, we thought a head-land that was discernible a little under our lee-bow, looked promising, and michael was called from the wheel and questioned concerning it. the fellow affirmed he knew the place well, and that the holding-ground on each side of it was excellent, consenting at once to a proposition of mine to bring up under its lee. we edged off, therefore, for this point, making the necessary preparations for bringing up. i was too busy in getting in canvas to note the progress of the ship for the next twenty minutes. it took all four of us to stow the jib, leaving michael at the wheel the while. and a tremendous job it was, though (i say it in humility) four better men never lay out on a spar, than those who set about the task on this occasion. we got it in, however, but, i need scarcely tell the seaman, it was not "stowed in the skin." marble insisted on leading the party, and never before had i seen the old fellow work as he did on that day. he had a faculty of incorporating his body and limbs with the wood and ropes, standing, as it might be, on air, working and dragging with his arms and broad shoulders, in a way that appeared to give him just as much command of his entire strength, as another man would possess on the ground. at length we reduced the canvass to the fore-top-mast stay-sail, and main-top-sail, the latter double-reefed. it was getting to be time that the last should be close reefed, (and we carried four reefs in the dawn), but we hoped the cloth would hold out until we wanted to roll it up altogether. the puffs, however, began to come gale-fashion, and i foresaw we should get it presently in a style that would require good looking to. the ship soon drove within the extremity of the head-land, the lead giving us forty fathoms of water. i had previously asked michael what water we might expect, but this he frankly owned he could not tell. he was certain that ships sometimes anchored there, but what water they found was more than he knew. he was no conjuror, and guessing might be dangerous, so he chose to say nothing about it. it was nervous work for a ship-master to carry his vessel on a coast, under such pilotage as this. i certainly would have wore round as it was, were it not for the fact that there was a clear sea to leeward, and that it would always be as easy to run out into the open water, as the wind was at that moment. marble and i now began to question our fisherman as to the precise point where he intended to fetch up. michael was bothered, and it was plain enough his knowledge was of the most general character. as for the particulars of his calling, he treated them with the coolest indifference. he had been much at sea in his younger days, it is true; but it was in ships of war, where the ropes were put into his hands by captains of the mast, and where his superiors did all the thinking. he could tell whether ships did or did not anchor near a particular spot, but he knew no reason for the one, or for the other. in a word, he had just that sort of knowledge of seamanship as one gets of the world by living in a province, where we all learn the leading principles of humanity, and trust to magazines and works of fiction for the finesse of life. the lead proved a better guide than michael, and seeing some breakers in-shore of us, i gave the order to clew up the main-top-sail, and to luff to the wind, before the ship should lose her way. our irishmen pulled and hauled well enough, as soon as they were directed what to do; which enabled marble and myself each to stand by a stopper. we had previously got the two bowers a-cock-bill, (the cables were bent as soon as we made the land); and nothing remained but to let run. neb was at the wheel, with orders to spring to the cables as soon as he heard them running out, and everything was in readiness. i shouted the order to "let run," and down both our anchors went, at the same instant, in twenty-two fathoms' water. the ship took cable at a fearful rate; but marble and diogenes being at one bower, and neb and i at the other, we succeeded in snubbing her, with something like twenty fathoms within the hawse-holes. there was a minute, when i thought the old bark would get away from us; and when, by desperate efforts, we did succeed in checking the mass, it seemed as if she would shake the windlass out of her. no time was lost in stoppering the cables, and in rolling up the main-top-sail. michael and his companions now came to wish us good luck, get the guineas, and to take their leave. the sea was already so rough that the only mode that remained of getting into their boat was by dropping from the end of the spanker boom. i endeavoured to persuade two or three of these fellows to stick by the ship, but in vain. they were all married, and they had a certain protection against impressment in their present manner of life; whereas, should they be found at large, some man-of-war would probably pick them up; and michael's tales of the past had not given them any great zest for the sort of life he described. when these irish fishermen left us, and ran in-shore, we were thrown again altogether on our own resources. i had explained to michael our want of hands, however, attributing it to accidents and impressments, and he thought he could persuade four or five young fellows to come off, as soon as the gale abated, on condition we would take them to america, after discharging at hamburg. these were to be mere peasants, it is true, for seamen were scarce in that part of the world; but they would be better than nothing. half a dozen athletic young irishmen would relieve us seamen from a vast deal of the heavy, lugging work of the ship, and leave us strength and spirits to do that which unavoidably fell to our share. with the understanding that he was to receive, himself, a guinea a-head for each sound man thus brought us, we parted from old michael, who probably has never piloted a ship since, as i strongly suspect he had never done before. chapter xxi. "the power of god is everywhere, pervades all space and time: the power of god can still the air, and rules in every clime;-- then bow the heart, and bend the knee, and worship o'er both land and sea." duo. i never knew precisely the point on the coast of ireland where we anchored. it was somewhere between strangford and dundrum bay; though the name of the head-land which gave us a sort of protection, i did not learn. in this part of the island, the coast trends north and south, generally; though at the place where we anchored, its direction was nearly from north-north-east to south-south-west,--which, in the early part of the gale, was as close as might be the course in which the wind blew. at the moment we brought up, the wind had hauled a little further to the northward, giving us a better lee; but, to my great regret, michael had scarcely left us, when it shifted to due north-east, making a fair rake of the channel. this left us very little of a lee--the point ahead of us being no great matter, and we barely within it. i consulted such maps as i had, and came to the conclusion that we were off the county down, a part of the kingdom that was at least civilized, and where we should be apt to receive good treatment, in the event of being wrecked. our fishermen told us that they belonged to a bally-something; but what the something was i have forgotten, if i ever understood them. "_told_ us," i say out of complaisance, but "_tould_" would be the better word, as all they uttered savoured so much of the brogue, that it was not always easy to get at their meaning. it was past noon when the dawn anchored; and the wind got more to the eastward, about half an hour afterwards. it was out of the question to think of getting under way again, with so strong a wind, and with our feeble crew. had it been perfectly smooth water, and had there been neither tide, nor air, it would have taken us half a day, at least, to get out two bowers. it was folly, therefore, to think of it, situated as we were. it only remained, to ride out the gale in the best manner we could. nothing occurred, for several hours, except that the gale increased sensibly in violence. like an active disease, it was fast coming to a crisis. towards sunset, however, a little incident took place, that gave me great uneasiness of itself, though i had forebodings of evil from the commencement of that tempest. two sail appeared in sight, to windward, being quite near us, close in with the irish coast before either was observed on board the dawn. the leading vessel of the two was a man-of-war cutter, running nearly before it, under a close-reefed square-sail,--canvass so low that it might easily be confounded with the foam of the sea, at a little distance. she rounded the head-land, and was edging away from the coast, apparently for sea-room, when she took a sudden sheer in our direction. as if curious to ascertain what could have taken so large a square-rigged vessel as the dawn, into her present berth, this cutter actually ran athwart our hawse, passing inside of us, at a distance of some fifty yards. we were examined; but no attempt was made to speak us. i felt no uneasiness at the proximity of these two cruisers, for i knew a boat could not live,--our ship fairly pitching her martingale into the water at her anchors. the frigate followed the cutter, though she passed us outside, even nearer than her consort. i got my first accurate notion of the weight of the gale, by seeing this large ship drive past us, under a reefed fore-sail, and a close-reefed main-top-sail, running nearly dead before it. as she came down, she took a sheer, like a vessel scudding in the open ocean; and, at one moment, i feared she would plunge directly into us, though she minded her helm in time to clear everything. a dozen officers on board her were looking at us, from her gangway, her quarter-deck guns, and rigging. all were compelled to hold on with firm grasps; and wonder seemed painted in every countenance. i could see their features for half a minute only, or even a less time; but i could discern this expression in each face. some looked up at our spars, as if to ascertain whether all were right; while others looked back at the head-land they had just rounded, like those who examined the roadstead. most shook their heads, as remarks passed from one to the other. the captain, as i took him to be, spoke us. "what are you doing here?" came to me through a trumpet, plainly enough; but answering was out of the question. before i could even get a trumpet to my mouth, the frigate had gone foaming by, and was already beyond the reach of the voice. heads appeared over her taffrail for some time, and we fancied these man-of-war's men regarded us as the instructed are apt to regard the ignorant, whom they fancy to be in danger. marble sneered a little at the curiosity betrayed by these two crafts; but, as for myself, it caused great uneasiness. i fancied they acted like those who were acquainted with the coast, manifesting surprise at seeing a stranger anchored in the berth we occupied. i slept little that night. marble kept me company most of the time, but neb and diogenes were as tranquil as if sleeping on good french mattresses--made of hair, not down--within the walls of a citadel. little disturbed these negroes, who followed our fortunes with the implicit reliance that habit and education had bred in them, as it might be, in and in. in this particular, they were literally dyed in the wool, to use one of the shop expressions so common among us. there was a little relaxation in the force of the gale in the middle of the night; but, with the return of day, came the winds howling down upon us, in a way that announced a more than common storm. all hands of us were now up, and paying every attention to the vessel. my greatest concern had been lest some of the sails should get adrift, for they had been furled by few and fatigued men. this did not happen, however, our gaskets and lashings doing all of their duty. we got our breakfasts, therefore, in the ordinary way, and marble and myself went and stood on the forecastle, to watch the signs of the times, like faithful guardians, who were anxious to get as near as possible to the danger. it was wonderful how the ship pitched! frequently her aurora was completely submerged, and tons of water would come in upon the forecastle, washing entirely aft at the next send, so that our only means of keeping above water was to stand on the windlass-bitts, or to get upon the heart of the main-stay. dry we were not, nor did we think of attempting to be so, but such expedients were necessary to enable us to remain stationary; often to enable us to breathe. i no longer wondered at the manner in which the cutter and frigate had examined our position. it was quite clear the fishermen knew very little about finding a proper berth for a ship, and that we might pretty nearly as well have brought up in the middle of st. george's channel, could our ground-tackle reach the bottom, as to have brought up where we were. just about nine o'clock, marble and i had got near each other on the fife-rail, and held a consultation on the subject of our prospects. although we both clung to the same top-sail-sheet, we were obliged to hallow to make ourselves heard, the howling of the wind through the rigging converting the hamper into a sort of tremendous eolian harp, while the roar of the water kept up a species of bass accompaniment to this music of the ocean. marble was the one who had brought about this communication, and he was the first to speak. "i say, miles," he called out, his mouth within three feet of my ear--"she jumps about like a whale with a harpoon in it! i've been afraid she'd jerk the stem out of her." "not much fear of that, moses--my great concern is that starboard bower-cable; it has a good deal more strain on it than the larboard, and you can see how the strands are stretched." "ay, ay--'t is generalizing its strength, as one may say. s'pose we clap the helm a-port, and try the effects of a sheer?" "i've thought of that; as there is a strong tide going, it may possibly answer"-- these words were scarcely out of my mouth, when three seas of enormous height came rolling down upon us, like three great roistering companions in a crowd of sullen men, the first of which raised the dawn's bows so high in the air, as to cause us both to watch the result in breathless silence. the plunge into the trough was in a just proportion to the toss into the air; and i felt a surge, as if something gave way under the violent strain that succeeded. the torrent of water that came on the forecastle prevented any thing from being seen; but again the bows rose, again they sunk, and then the ship seemed easier. "we are all adrift, miles!" marble shouted, leaning forward to be heard. "both bowers have snapped like thread, and here we go, head-foremost, in for the land!" all this was true enough! the cables had parted, and the ship's head was falling off fast from the gale, like the steed that has slipped his bridle, before he commences his furious and headlong career. i looked round for the negroes; but neb was already at the wheel. that noble fellow, true as steel, had perceived the accident as soon as any of us, and he sprang to the very part of the vessel where he was most needed. he had a seaman's faculties in perfection, though ratiocination was certainly not his forte. a motion of my hand ordered him to put the helm hard up, and the answering sign let me know that i was obeyed. we could do no more just then, but the result was awaited in awful expectation. the dawn's bows fell off until the ship lay broadside to the gale, which made her reel until her lee lower yard-arms nearly dipped. then she overcame the cauldron of water that was boiling around her, and began to draw heavily ahead. three seas swept athwart her decks, before she minded her helm in the least, carrying with them every thing that was not most firmly lashed, or which had not animal life to direct its movements, away to leeward. they swept off the hen-coops, and ripped four or five water-casks from their lashings, even, as if the latter had been pack-thread. the camboose-house went also, at the last of these terrific seas; and nothing saved the camboose itself, but its great weight, added to the strength of its fastenings. in a word, little was left, that could very well go, but the launch, the gripes of which fortunately held on. by the time this desolation was completed, the ship began to fall off, and her movement through the water became very perceptible. at first, she dashed in toward the land, running, i make no doubt, quite half a mile obliquely in that direction, ere she got fairly before the wind; a course which carried her nearly in a line with the coast. marble and myself now got aft without much trouble, and put the helm a little to starboard, with a view to edge off to the passage as far as possible. the wind blew so nearly down channel, that there would have been no immediate danger, had we an offing; but the ship had not driven before the gale more than three or four hours, when we made land ahead; the coast trending in this part of the island nearly north and south. marble suggested the prudence of taking time by the forelock, and of getting the main-top-sail on the ship, to force her off the land, the coast in the neighbourhood of dublin lying under our lee-bow. we had taken the precaution to close-reef everything before it was furled, and i went aloft myself to lower this sail. if i had formed a very respectful opinion of the power of the gale, while on deck, that opinion was materially heightened when i came to feel its gusts, on the main-top-sail-yard. it was not an easy matter to hold on at all; and to work, required great readiness and strength. nevertheless, i got the sail loose, and then i went down and aided marble and the cook to drag home the sheets. home, they could not be dragged by us, notwithstanding we got up a luff; but we made the sail stand reasonably well. the ship immediately felt the effect of even this rag of canvass. she drove ahead at a prodigious rate, running, i make no question, some eleven or twelve knots, under the united power collected by her hamper and this one fragment of a sail. her drift was unavoidably great, and i thought the current sucked her in towards the land; but, on the whole, she kept at about the same distance from the shore, foaming along it, much as we had seen the frigate do, the day before. at the rate we were going, twelve or fifteen hours would carry us down to the passage between holy head and ireland, when we should get more sea-room, on account of the land's trending again to the westward. long, long hours did marble and i watch the progress of our ship that day and the succeeding night, each of us taking our tricks at the wheel, and doing seaman's duty, as well as that of mate and master. all this time, the vessel was dashing furiously out towards the atlantic, which she reached ere the morning of the succeeding day. just before he light returned we were whirled past a large ship that was lying-to, under a single storm-stay-sail, and which i recognised as the frigate that had taken a look at us at our anchorage. the cutter was close at hand, and the fearful manner in which these two strong-handed vessels pitched and lurched, gave me some idea of what must be our situation, should we be compelled to luff to the wind. i supposed they had done so, in order to keep as long as possible, on their cruising ground, near the chops of the irish channel. a wild scene lay around us, at the return of light. the atlantic resembled a chaos of waters, the portions of the rolling sheet that were not white with foam, looking green and angry. the clouds hid the sun, and the gale seemed to be fast coming to its height. at ten, we drove past an american, with nothing standing but his foremast. like us, he was running off, though we went three feet to his two. half an hour later, we had the awful sight before our eyes of witnessing the sudden disappearance of an english brig. she was lying-to, directly on our course, and i was looking at her from the windlass, trying to form some opinion as to the expediency of our luffing-to, in order to hold our own. of a sudden, this brig gave a plunge, and she went down like a porpoise diving. what caused this disaster i never knew; but, in five minutes we passed as near as possible over the spot, and not a trace of her was to be seen. i could not discover so much as a handspike floating, though i looked with intense anxiety, in the hope of picking up some fellow-creature clinging to a spar. as for stopping to examine, one who did not understand the language might as well hope to read the german character on a mile-stone, while flying past it in a rail-road car. at noon, precisely, away went our fore-top-sail out of the gaskets. one fastening snapped after another, until the whole sail was adrift. the tugs that this large sheet of canvass gave upon the spars, as it shook in the wind, threatened to jerk the foremast out of the ship. they lasted about three minutes, when, after a report almost as loud as that of a small piece of ordnance, the sail split in ribands. ten minutes later, our main-top-sail went. this sail left us as it might be bodily, and i actually thought that a gun of distress was fired near us, by some vessel that was unseen, the bolt-rope was left set; the sheets, earings, and reef points all holding on, the cloth tearing at a single rent around the four sides of the sail. the scene that followed i scarcely know how to describe. the torn part of the main-top-sail flew forward, and caught in the after-part of the fore-top, where it stood spread, as one might say, held by the top, cat-harpins, rigging, and other obstacles. this was the feather to break the camel's back. bolt after bolt of the fore-rigging drew or broke, each parting with a loud report, and away went everything belonging to the foremast over the bows, from the deck up. the main-top-mast was dragged down by this fearful pull, and that brought the mizen-top-gallant-mast after it. the pitching of so much hamper under the bows of the ship, while her after-masts stood, threw the stern round, in spite of the manner in which marble steered; and the ship broached-to. in doing this, the sea made a fair breach over her, sweeping the deck of even the launch and camboose, and carrying all the lee-bulwarks, in the waist, with them. neb was in the launch at the time, hunting for some article kept there; and the last i saw of the poor fellow, he was standing erect in the bows of the boat, as the latter drove over the vessel's side, on the summit of a wave, like a bubble floating in a furious current. diogenes, it seems, had that moment gone to his camboose, to look after the plain dinner he was trying to boil, when probably seizing the iron as the most solid object near him, he was carried overboard with it, and never reappeared. marble was in a tolerably safe part of the vessel, at the wheel, and he kept his feet, though the water rose above his waist; as high, indeed, as his arms. as for myself, i was saved only by the main-rigging, into which i was driven, and where i lodged. i could not but admire the coolness and conduct of marble even at that terrific moment! in the first place, he put the helm hard down, and lashed the wheel, the wisest thing that could be done by men in our situation. this he did by means of that nautical instinct, which enables a seaman to act, in the direst emergencies, almost without reflection, or, as one closes his eyes to avoid danger to the pupils. then he gave one glance at the state of things in-board, running forward with the end of a rope to throw to diogenes, should the cook rise near the ship. by the time he was satisfied the hope of doing anything in that way, was vain, i was on deck, and we two stood facing each other, in the midst of the scene of desolation and ruin that was around us. marble caught my hand with a look that spoke as plainly as words. it told me the joy he felt at seeing i was spared, his determination to stick by me to the last; yet, how low were his hopes of ultimate preservation! it was such a look as any man would be glad to receive from a comrade in the heat of battle; nevertheless, it was not a look that promised victory. the situation of the ship would now have been much better than it had been, in many respects, were it not for the wreck. all the masts forward had gone over the lee bow, and would have lain in a sufficiently favourable situation for a strong crew to get rid of them; but in our case we were compelled to let things take their course. it is true, we could cut away, and this we began to do pretty freely, but the lower-end of the foremast lay on the forecastle, where it was grinding everything near it to pieces, with the heaving and setting of the waves. all the bulwarks in. that part of the ship threatened soon to be beaten down, and i felt afraid the cat-head would be torn violently out of the ship, leaving a bad leak. leaks enough there were, as it was. the launch, camboose, water-casks, and spare spars, in driving overboard, having forced out timber-heads, and other supports, in a way to split the plank sheer, which let in the water fast, every time the lee gunwale went under. i gave up my sugars and coffees from the first, bringing my hopes down as low as the saving of the ship, the instant i saw the state of the upper works. marble and i had not been educated in a school that is apt to despair. as for my mate, had he found himself on a plank in the middle of the atlantic, i do believe he would have set about rigging a jury-mast, by splitting off a piece of the hull of his craft and spreading his shirt by way of sail. i never knew a more in-and-in-bred seaman, who, when one resource failed, invariably set about the next best visible expedient. we were at a loss, however, whether to make an effort to get rid of the foremast, or not. with the exception of the damages it did on the forecastle, it was of use to us, keeping the ship's bow up to the wind, and making better weather for us, on deck. the after-masts standing, while those forward were gone, had the effect to press the stern of the vessel to leeward, while this support in the water prevented her bows from falling off, and we rode much nearer to the wind, than is usual with a ship that is lying-to. it is true, the outer end of the fallen spars began to drive to leeward; and, acting as a long lever, they were gradually working the broken end of the foremast athwart the forecastle, ripping and tearing away everything on the gunwale, and threatening the foot of the main-stay. this made it desirable to be rid of the wreck, while on the other hand, there was the danger of the ship's bottom beating against the end of the mast, did the latter get overboard. under all these circumstances, however, we determined to cut as much of the gear as possible, and let the fallen spars work themselves clear of us, if they could. our job was by no means easy. it was difficult to stand, even, on the deck of the dawn, in a time like that; and this difficulty was greatly increased forward, by having so little to hold on by. but work we did, and in a way that cleared most of the rigging from the ship, in the course of the next half hour. we were encouraged by the appearances of the weather too, the gale having broken, and promising to abate. the ship grew a little easier, i thought, and we moved about with more confidence of not being washed away by the seas that came on board us. after a time, we took some refreshments, eating the remains of a former meal, and cheered our hearts a little with a glass or two of good sherry. temperance may be very useful, but so is a glass of good wine, when properly used. then we went at it, again, working with a will and with spirit. the wreck aft wanted very little to carry it over the side, and going aloft with an axe, i watched my opportunity, cut one or two of the shrouds and stays, just as the ship lurched heavily to leeward, and got rid of the whole in the sea handsomely, without further injury to the ship. this was a good deliverance, the manner in which the spars had threshed about, having menaced our lives, before. we now attacked the wreck forward, for the last time, feeling certain we should get it adrift, could we sever the connection formed by one or two of the larger ropes. the lee-shrouds, in particular, gave us trouble, it being impossible to get at them, in-board, the fore channels being half the time under water and the bulwarks in their wake being all gone. it was, in fact, impossible to stand there to work long enough to clear, or cut, all the lanyards. marble was an adventurous fellow aloft, on all occasions; and seeing good footing about the top, without saying a word to me, he seized an axe, and literally ran out on the mast, where he began to cut the collars of the rigging at the mast-head. this was soon done; but the spars were no sooner clear, than, impelled by a wave that nearly drowned the mate, the end of the foremast slid off the forecastle into the sea, leaving the ship virtually clear of the wreck, but my mate adrift on the last; i say virtually clear, for the lee fore-top-sail-brace still remained fast to the ship, by some oversight in clearing away the smaller ropes. the effect of this restraint was to cause the whole body of the wreck to swing slowly round, until it rode by this rope, alone. here was a new and a most serious state of things! i knew that my mate would do all that man could perform, situated as he was, but what man could swim against such a sea, even the short distance that interposed between the, spars and the ship? the point of the wreck nearest the vessel, was the end of the top-sail-yard, to which the brace led, and this was raised from the water by the strain (the other end of the brace leading aloft), fathoms at a time, rendering it extremely difficult for marble to reach the rope, by means of which i could now see, notwithstanding all the difficulties, he hoped to regain the vessel. the voice could be heard by one directly to leeward, the howling of the winds and the roar of the waters having materially lessened within the last few hours. i shouted to marble, therefore, my intentions-- "stand by to get the brace as i ease it off, in-board," i cried; "then you will be safe!" the mate understood me, giving a gesture of assent with his arm. when both were ready, i eased off the rope suddenly, and marble, partly by crawling, and partly by floating and dragging himself by the hands, actually got to the yard-arm, which was immediately raised from the water, however, by the drift made by the spars, while he was achieving his object. i trembled as i saw this stout seaman, the water dripping from his clothes, thus elevated in the air, with the angry billows rolling beneath him, like lions leaping upward to catch the adventurer in their grasp. marble's hand was actually extended to reach the brace, when its block gave way with the strain. the eye of the strap slipping from the yard, down went the spar into the water. next the trough of the sea hid everything from my sight, and i was left in the most painful doubt of the result, when i perceived the mate lashing himself to the top, as the portion of the wreck that floated the most buoyantly. he had managed to get in again, and coolly went to work to secure himself in the best berth he could find, the instant he regained the main mass of the wreck. as he rose on the crest of a sea, the poor fellow made a gesture of adieu to me; the leave-taking of the mariner! in this manner did it please divine providence to separate us four, who had already gone through so much in company! with what moody melancholy did i watch the wreck, as it slowly drifted from the ship. i no longer thought of making further efforts to save the dawn, and i can truly say, that scarce a thought in connection with my own life, crossed my mind. there i stood for quite an hour, leaning against the foot of the mizen-mast, with folded arms and riveted eyes, regardless of the pitches, and lurches, and rolling of the ship, with all my faculties and thoughts fastened on the form of marble, expecting each time that the top rose to view to find it empty. he was too securely lashed, however, to strike adrift, though he was nearly half the time under water. it was impossible to do anything to save him. no boat was left; had there been one, it could not have lived, nor could i have managed it alone. spars he had already, but what must become of him without food or water? i threw two breakers of the last into the sea, and a box of bread, in a sort of idle hope they might drift down near the wreck, and help to prolong the sufferer's life. they were all tossed about in the cauldron of the ocean, and disappeared to leeward, i knew not whither. when marble was no longer visible from deck, i went into the main-top and watched the mass of spars and rigging, so long as any portion of it could be seen. then i set it by compass, in order to know its bearing, and an hour before the sun went down, or as soon as the diminished power of the wind would permit, i showed an ensign aloft, as a signal that i bore my mate in mind. "he knows i will not desert him as long as there is hope--so long as i have life!" i muttered to myself; and this thought was a relief to my mind, in that bitter moment. bitter moment, truly! time has scarcely lessened the keenness of the sensations i endured, as memory traces the feelings and incidents of that day. from the hour when i sailed from home, lucy's image was seldom absent from my imagination, ten minutes at a time; i thought of her, sleeping and waking; in all my troubles; the interest of the sea-fight i had seen could not prevent this recurrence of my ideas to their polar star, their powerful magnet; but i do not remember to have thought of lucy, even, once after marble was thus carried away from my side. neb, too, with his patient servitude, his virtues, his faults, his dauntless courage, his unbounded devotion to myself, had taken a strong hold on my heart, and his loss had greatly troubled me, since the time it occurred. but i remember to have thought much of lucy, even after neb was swept away, though her image became temporarily lost to my mind, during the first few hours i was thus separated from marble. by the time the sun set, the wind had so far abated, and the sea had gone down so much, as to remove all further apprehensions from the gale. the ship lay-to easily, and i had no occasion to give myself any trouble on her account. had there been light, i should now have put the helm up, and run to leeward, in the hope of finding the spars, and at least of keeping near marble; but, fearful of passing him in the darkness, i deferred that duty until the morning. all i could do was to watch the weather, in order to make this effort, before the wind should shift. what a night i passed! as soon as it was dark, i sounded the pumps, and found six feet water in the hold. it was idle for one man to attempt clearing a vessel of the dawn's size; and i gave myself no further thought in the matter. so much injury had been done the upper works of the ship, that i had a sort of conviction she must go down, unless fallen in with by some other craft. i cannot say apprehension for my own fate troubled me any, or that i thought of the rum to my fortunes that was involved in the loss of the ship. my mind reverted constantly to my companions; could i have recovered them, i should have been happy, for a time, at least. i slept two or three hours, towards morning, overcome will fatigue. when i awoke, it was in consequence of receiving the sun's rays in my face. springing to my feet, i cast a confused and hurried glance around me. the wind was still at north-east, but it barely blew a good whole-sail breeze. the sea had gone down, to the regular roll of the ocean; and a finer day never shone upon the atlantic. i hurried eagerly on deck, and gazed on the ocean to leeward, with longing eyes, to ascertain if anything could be seen of the wreck of our spars. nothing was visible. from the main-top, i could command a pretty wide horizon; but the ocean lay a bright, glittering blank, the crests of its own waves excepted. i felt certain the dawn was so weatherly, that the spars were to leeward; but the ship must have forged miles ahead, during the last twelve hours; and there was almost the equal certainty of her being a long distance to the southward of the floating hamper, her head having lain in that direction since the time she broached-to. to get her off before the wind, then, was my first concern, after which i could endeavour to force her to the northward, running the chance of falling in with the spars. could i find my mate, we might still die together, which would hove been a melancholy consolation just then. chapter xxii. father of all! in every age, in every clime, adored; by saint, by savage, or by sage-- jehovah! jove! or lord! pope. feeling the necessity of possessing all my strength i ate a breakfast before i commenced work. it was with a heavy heart, and but little appetite, that i took this solitary meal; but i felt that its effects were good. when finished, i knelt on the deck, and prayed to god, fervently, asking his divine assistance in my extremity. why should an old man, whose race is nearly run, hesitate to own, that in the pride of his youth and strength, he was made to feel how insufficient we all are for our wants? yes, i prayed; and i hope in a fitting spirit, for i felt that this spiritual sustenance did me even more good than the material of which i had just before partaken. when i rose from my knees, it was with a sense of hope, that i endeavoured to suppress a little, as both unreasonable and dangerous. perhaps the spirit of my sainted sister was permitted to look down on me, in that awful strait, and to offer up its own pure petitions in behalf of a brother she had so warmly loved. i began to feel myself less alone, and the work advanced the better from this mysterious sort of consciousness of the presence of the souls of those who had felt an interest in me, while in the body. my first measure was to lead the jib-stay, which had parted near the head of its own mast, to the head of the main-mast. this i did by bending on a piece of another rope. i then got up the halyards, and loosened and set the jib; a job that consumed quite two hours. of course, this sail did not set very well, but it was the only mode i had of getting forward canvass on the ship at all. as soon as the jib was set, in this imperfect manner, i put the helm up, and got the ship before the wind. i then hauled out the spanker, and gave it sheet. by these means, aided by the action of the breeze on the hull and spars, i succeeded in getting something like three knots' way on the ship, keeping off a little northerly, in which direction i felt sensible it was necessary to proceed in quest of the spars. i estimated the drift of the wreck at a knot an hour, including the good and moderate weather; and, allowing for that of the ship itself, i supposed it must be, by that time, some twelve miles to leeward of me. these twelve miles i managed to run by noon, when i hauled up sufficiently to bring the wind abeam, heading northwardly. as the ship would now steer herself, that is as small as it was necessary for me to go, i collected some food, took a glass, and went up into the main-top, to dine, and to examine the ocean. the anxious, anxious hours i passed in that top! not an object of any sort appeared on the surface of the wide ocean. it seemed as if the birds and the fishes had abandoned me to my loneliness. i watched and examined the surrounding sea, until my hands were tired with holding the glass, and my eyes became weary with their office. fortunately, the breeze stood, though the sea went down fast; giving me every opportunity i could desire of effecting my object. the ship yawed about a good deal, it is true; but, on the whole, she made a very tolerable course. i could see by the water that she had a motion of about two knots, for most of the time; though, as the day advanced, the wind began to fall, and her rate of going diminished quite one half. at length, after passing hours aloft, i went below, to look after things there. on sounding the pumps, i found ten feet water in the hold; though the upper works were now not at all submerged, and the motion of the vessel was very easy. that the dawn was gradually sinking under me, was a fact too evident to be denied; and all the concerns of thir life began to narrow into a circle of some four-and-twenty hours. that time the ship would probably float,--possibly a little longer, should the weather continue moderate. the wind was decreasing still, and, thinking i might have a tranquil night, i determined to pass that time in preparing for the last great change. i had no will to make--little to leave, indeed, after my vessel was gone: for the debt due to john wallingford would go far towards absorbing all my property. when his $ , were paid, under a forced sale, little, indeed, would be the residue. the state of things would have been somewhat different, under a fair sale, perhaps; but a forced sale would probably sweep away everything. it is true my creditor was my heir; for, a legacy to lucy and a few bequests to my slaves excepted, i had fairly bequeathed all i owned to my cousin. as for the blacks themselves, under the new policy of new york, they would soon be free; and i had no other interest in their fate than that of habit and affection. but why speak of property, in the situation in which i was placed? had i owned the whole of ulster county, my wishes, or any new will i might make, must die with me. the ocean would soon engulf the whole. had i no desire to make an effort to save myself, or at least to prolong my existence, by means of a raft?--of boat, there was none in the ship. the english had the yawl, and the launch had been driven away. the spare spars were swept overboard, as well as all the water-casks that had been lashed on deck. i might have done something with the hatches, and mizen-top-mast, possibly, could i have gotten the last into the water; but the expedient was so desperate, it did not hold out any hopes to be encouraged. even the handspikes had gone in the launch, and two of the buoys had been left with the anchors, on the irish coast. under all the circumstances, it appeared to me, that it would be more manly and resigned, to meet my fate at once, than to attempt any such feeble projects to prolong existence for a few hours. i came to the resolution, therefore, to go down in my ship. what was there to make life particularly dear to me?--my home, my much-beloved clawbonny, must go, at all events; and i will own that a feeling of bitter distrust crossed my mind, as i thought of these things, and that i began to fancy john wallingford might have urged me to borrow his money, expressly to obtain a chance of seizing an estate that was so much prized by every wallingford. i suppressed this feeling, however; and in a clear voice i asked my cousin's pardon, the same as if he had been within hearing. of lucy, i had no longer any hope;--grace was already in heaven; and the world contained few that cared for me. after mr. hardinge, lucy always excepted i now loved marble and neb the most; and these two were probably both dead, or doomed, like myself. we must all yield up our lives once; and, though my hour came rather early, it should be met as a man meets everything, even to death itself. some time before the sun set, i went aloft to take a last look at the ocean. i do not think any desire to prolong my existence carried me up the mast, but there was a lingering wish to look after my mate. the ocean beamed gloriously that eventide, and i fancied that it was faintly reflecting the gracious countenance of its divine creator, in a smile of beneficent love. i felt my heart soften, as i gazed around me, and i fancied heavenly music was singing the praises of god, on the face of the great deep. then i knelt in the top, and prayed. rising, i looked at the ocean, as i supposed, for the last time. not a sail was anywhere to be seen. i cannot say that i felt disappointed;--i did not expect relief from that quarter. my object was, to find my mate, that we might die together. slowly i raised the glass, and the horizon was swept with deliberation. nothing appeared. i had shut the glass, and was about to sling it, when my eye caught the appearance of something floating on the surface of the ocean, within a mile of the ship; well to leeward, and ahead. i had overlooked it, in consequence of ranging above it with the glass, in the desire to sweep the horizon. i could not be mistaken: it was the wreck. in a moment the glass was levelled, and i assured myself of the fact. the top was plainly visible, floating quite high above the surface, and portions of the yards and masts were occasionally seen, as the undulations of the ocean left them bare. i saw an object, lying motionless across the top-rim, which i supposed to be marble. he was either dead or asleep. what a revulsion of feeling came over me at this sight! a minute before, and i was completely isolated; cut off from the rest of my species, and resigned to a fate that seemed to command my quitting this state of being, without further communion with mankind. everything was changed. here was the companion of so many former dangers, the man who had taught me my profession, one that i can truly say i loved, quite near me, and possibly dying for the want of that aid which i might render! i was on deck in the twinkling of an eye; the sheets were eased off, and the helm put up. obedient to my wishes, the ship fell off, and i soon got a glimpse, from the spot where i stood, at the wheel, of the wreck a little clear of the weather cat-head. by this time, the wind was so light, and the ship had got to be so deep in the water, that the motion of the last was very slow. even with the helm up, it scarce equalled half a knot; i began to fear i should not be able to reach my goal, after all! there were, now, intervals of dead calm; then the air would return in little puffs, urging the great mass heavily onward. i whistled, i prayed, i called aloud for wind; in short, i adopted all the expedients known, from that of the most vulgar nautical superstition, up to profound petitions to the father of mercies. i presume all this brought no change, though the passage of time did. about half an hour before the sun dipped into the ocean, the ship was within a hundred yards of the wreck. this i could ascertain by stolen glances, for the direction i was now compelled to steer, placed the forward part of the ship between me and my object, and i did not dare quit the wheel to go forward, lest i should miss it altogether. i had prepared a grapnel, by placing a small kedge in the lee-waist, with a hawser bent, and, could i come within a few feet of the floating hamper, i felt confident of being able to hook into something. it appeared to me, now, as if the ship absolutely refused to move. go ahead she did, notwithstanding, though it was only her own length in five or six minutes. my hasty glances told me that two more of these lengths would effect my purpose. i scarce breathed, lest the vessel should not be steered with sufficient accuracy. it was strange to me that marble did not hail, and, fancying him asleep, i shouted with all my energy, in order to arouse him. 'what a joyful sound that will be in his ears,' i thought to myself, though to me, my own voice seemed unearthly and alarming. no answer came. then i felt a slight shock, as if the cut-water had hit something, and a low scraping sound against the copper announced that the ship had hit the wreck. quitting the wheel, i sprang into the waist, raising the kedge in my arms. then came the upper spars wheeling strongly round, under the pressure of the vessel's bottom against the extremity of the lower mast. i saw nothing but the great maze of hamper and wreck, and could scarcely breathe in the anxiety not to miss my aim. there was much reason to fear the whole mass would float off, leaving me no chance of throwing the kedge, for the smaller masts no longer inclined in, and i could see that the ship and wreck were slowly separating. a low thump on the bottom, directly beneath me, drew my head over the side, and i found the fore-yard, as it might be, a cock-bill, with one end actually scraping along the ship's bottom. it was the only chance i had, or was likely to have, and i threw the kedge athwart it. luckily, the hawser as it tautened, brought a fluke directly under the yard, within the flemish horse, the brace-block, and all the other ropes that are fitted to a lower yard-arm. so slow was the motion of the ship, that my grapnel held, and the entire body of the wreck began to yield to the pressure. i now jumped to the jib-halyards and down-haul, getting that sail reduced; then i half-brailed the spanker; this was done lest my hold on the yard should give way. i can say, that up to this instant, i had not even looked for marble. so intense had been my apprehensions of missing the wreck, that i thought of nothing else, could see nothing else. satisfied, however, that my fast would hold, i ran forward to look down on the top, that the strain of the hawser had brought directly under the very bow, over which it had fallen. it was empty! the object i had mistaken for marble, dead or asleep, was a part of the bunt of the main-top-sail, that had been hauled down over the top-rim, and secured there, either to form a sort of shelter against the breaking seas, or a bed. whatever may have been the intention of this nest, it no longer had an occupant. marble had probably been washed away, in one of his adventurous efforts to make himself more secure or more comfortable. the disappointment that came over me, as i ascertained this fact, was scarcely less painful than the anguish i had felt when i first saw my mate carried off into the ocean there would have been a melancholy satisfaction in finding his body, that we might have gone to the bottom together, at least, and thus have slept in a common grave, in the depths of that ocean over which we had sailed so many thousands of leagues in company. i went and threw myself on the deck, regardless of my own fate, and wept in very bitterness of heart. i had arranged a mattress on the quarter-deck, and it was on that i now threw myself. fatigue overcame me, in the end, and i fell into a deep sleep. as my recollection left me, my last thought was that i should go down with the ship, as i lay there. so complete was the triumph of nature, that i did not even dream. i do not remember ever to have enjoyed more profound and refreshing slumbers; slumbers that continued until returning light awoke me. to that night's rest i am probably indebted, under god, for having the means of relating these adventures. it is scarcely necessary to say that the night had been tranquil; otherwise, a seaman's ears would have given him the alarm. when i arose, i found the ocean glittering like a mirror, with no other motion than that which has so often been likened to the slumbering respiration of some huge animal. the wreck was thumping against the ship's bottom, announcing its presence, before i left the mattress. of wind there was literally not a breath. once in a while, the ship would seem to come up to breathe, as a heavy groundswell rolled along her sides, and the wash of the element told the circumstance of such a visit; else, all was as still as the ocean in its infancy. i knelt, again, and prayed to that dread being, with whom, it now appeared to me, i stood alone, in the centre of the universe. down to the moment when i arose from my knees, the thought of making an effort to save myself, or to try to prolong existence a few hours, by means of the wreck, did not occur to me. but, when i came to look about me, to note the tranquil condition of the ocean, and to heed the chances, small as they were, that offered, the love of life was renewed within me, and i seriously set about the measures necessary to such an end. the first step was to sound the pumps, anew. the water had not gained in the night as rapidly as it had gained throughout the preceding day. but it had gained; there being three feet more of it than when i last sounded--the infallible evidence of the existence of a leak that no means of mine could stop. it was, then, hopeless to think of saving the ship. she had settled in the water, already, so as to bring the lower bolts of both fore and main channels awash; and i supposed she might float for four-and-twenty hours longer, unless an injury that i had discovered under the larboard cat-head, and which had been received from the wreck, should sooner get under water. it appeared to me that a butt had been started there: such a leak would certainly hasten the fate of the vessel by some hours, should it come fairly into the account. having made this calculation as to the time i had to do it in, i set seriously about the job of making provisions with my raft. in one or two particulars, i could not much improve the latter; for, the yards lying underneath the masts, it rendered the last as buoyant as was desirable in moderate weather. it struck me, however, that by getting the top-gallant and royal masts, with their yards, in, around the top, i might rig a staging, with the aid of the hatches, that would not only keep me entirely out of water, in mild weather, but which would contain all one man could consume, in the way of victuals and drink, for a month to come. to this object, then, i next gave my attention. i had no great difficulty in getting the spars i have mentioned, loose, and in hauling them alongside of the top. it was a job that required time, rather than strength; for my movements were greatly facilitated by the presence of the top-mast rigging, which remained in its place, almost as taut as when upright. the other rigging i cut, and having got out the fids of the two masts, one at a time, i pushed the spars through their respective caps with a foot. of course, i was obliged to get into the water to work; but i had thrown aside most of my clothes for the occasion, and the weather being warm, i felt greatly refreshed with my bath. in two hours' time, i had my top-gallant-mast and yard well secured to the top-rim and the caps, having sawed them in pieces for the purpose. the fastenings were both spikes and lashings, the carpenter's stores furnishing plenty of the former, as well as all sorts of tools. this part of the arrangement completed, i ate a hearty breakfast, when i began to secure the hatches, as a sort of floor, on my primitive joists. this was not difficult, the hatches being long, and the rings enabling me to lash them, as well as to spike them. long before the sun had reached the meridian, i had a stout little platform, that was quite eighteen inches above the water, and which was surrounded by a species of low ridge-ropes, so placed as to keep articles from readily tumbling off it. the next measure was to cut all the sails from the yards, and to cut loose all the rigging and iron that did not serve to keep the wreck together. the reader can easily imagine how much more buoyancy i obtained by these expedients. the fore-sail alone weighed much more than i did myself, with all the stores i might have occasion to put on my platform. as for the fore-top-sail, there was little of it left, the canvass having mostly blown from the yard, before the mast went. my raft was completed by the time i felt the want of dinner; and a very good raft it was. the platform was about ten feet square, and it now floated quite two feet clear of the water. this was not much for a sea; but, after the late violent gale, i had some reason to expect a continuation of comparatively good weather. i should not have been a true seaman not to have bethought me of a mast and a sail. i saved the fore-royal-mast, and the yard, with its canvass, for such a purpose; determining to rig them when i had nothing else to do. i then ate my dinner, which consisted of the remnants of the old cold meat and fowls i could find among the cabin eatables. this meal taken, the duty that came next was to provision my raft. it took but little time or labour. the cabin stores were quite accessible; and a bag of pilot-bread, another of that peculiarly american invention, called crackers--some smoked beef, a case of liquors, and two breakers of water, formed my principal stock. to this i added a pot of butter, with some capital smoked herrings, and some anchovies. we lived well in the cabin of the dawn, and there was no difficulty in making all the provision that six or eight men would have needed for a month. perceiving that the raft, now it was relieved from the weight of the sails and rigging, was not much affected by the stores, i began to look about me in quest of anything valuable i might wish to save. the preparations i had been making created a sort of confidence in their success; a confidence (hope might be the better word) that was as natural, perhaps, as it was unreasonable. i examined the different objects that offered, with a critical comparison of their value and future usefulness, that would have been absurd, had it not afforded a melancholy proof of the tenacity of our desires in matters of this nature. it is certainly a sad thing to abandon a ship, at sea, with all her appliances, and with a knowledge of the gold that she cost. the dawn, with her cargo, must have stood me in eighty thousand dollars, or even more; and here was i about to quit her, out on the ocean, with an almost moral certainty that not a cent of the money could be, or would be, recovered from the insurers. these last only took risks against the accidents of the ocean, fire included; and there was a legal obligation on the insured to see that the vessel was properly found and manned. it was my own opinion that no accident would have occurred to the ship, in the late gale, had the full crew been on board; and that the ship was not sufficiently manned was, in a legal sense my own fault. i was bound to let the english carry her into port, and to await judgment,--the law supposing that justice would have been done in the premises. the law might have been greatly mistaken in this respect; but potentates never acknowledge their blunders. if i was wronged in the detention, the law presumed suitable damages. it is true, i might be ruined by the delay, through the debts left behind me; but the law, with all its purity, cared nothing for that. could i have shown a loss by means of a falling market, i might have obtained redress, provided the court chose to award it, and provided the party did not appeal; or, if he did, that the subsequent decisions supported the first; and provided,--all the decrees being in my favour,--my lord harry dermond could have paid a few thousands in damages:--a problem to be solved, in itself. i always carried to sea with me a handsome chest, that i had bought in one of my earlier voyages, and which usually contained my money, clothes and other valuables. this chest i managed to get on deck, by the aid of a purchase, and over the ship's side, on the raft. it was much the most troublesome task i had undertaken. to this i added my writing-desk, a mattress, two or three counterpanes, and a few other light articles, which it struck me might be of use--but, which i could cast into the sea at any moment, should it become necessary. when all this was done, i conceived that my useful preparations were closed. it was near night, and i felt sufficiently fatigued to lie down and sleep. the water had gained very slowly during the last few hours, but the ship was now swimming so low, that i thought it unsafe to remain in the vessel, while asleep. i determined, therefore, to take my leave of her, and go on the raft for that purpose. it struck me too, it might be unsafe to be too near the vessel when she went down, and i had barely time to get the spars a short distance from the ship, before darkness would come. still, i was unwilling to abandon the dawn altogether, since the spars that stood on board her, would always be a more available signal to any passing vessel, than the low sail i could set on the raft. should she float during the succeeding day, they would increase the chances of a rescue, and they offered an advantage not to be lightly thrown away. to force the spars away from the ship was not an easy task of itself. there is an attraction in matter, that is known to bring vessels nearer together in calms, and i had this principle of nature first to overcome; then to neutralize it, without the adequate means for doing either. still i was very strong, and possessed all the resources of a seaman. the raft, too, now its length was reduced, was much more manageable than it had been originally, and in rummaging about the twixt-decks, i had found a set of oars belonging to the launch, which had been stowed in the steerage, and which of course were preserved. these i had taken to the raft, to strengthen my staging, or deck, and two of them had been reserved for the very purpose to which they were now applied. cutting away the kedge, then, and casting off the other ropes i had used with which to breast-to the raft, i began to shove off, just as the sun was dipping. so long as i could pull by the ship, i did very well, for i adopted the expedient of hauling astern, instead of pushing broad off, under the notion that i might get a better drift, if quite from under the lee of the vessel, than if lying on her broadside. i say the 'lee,' though there wasn't a breath of air, nor scarcely any motion of the water. i had a line fast to a stern-davit, and placing myself with my feet braced against the chest, i soon overcame the _vis inertia_ of the spars, and, exerting all my force, when it was once in motion, i succeeded in giving the raft an impetus that carried it completely past the ship. i confess i felt no personal apprehension from the suction, supposing the ship to sink while the raft was in absolute contact with it, but the agitation of the water might weaken its parts, or it might wash most of my stores away. this last consideration induced me, now, to go to work with the oars, and try to do all i could, by that mode of propelling my dull craft. i worked hard just one hour, by my watch; at the expiration of that time, the nearest end of the raft, or the lower part of the foremast, was about a hundred yards from the dawn's taffrail. this was a slow movement, and did not fail to satisfy me, that, if i were to be saved at all, it would be by means of some passing vessel, and not by my own progress. overcome by fatigue, i now lay down and slept. i took no precautions against the wind's rising in the night; firstly, because i thought it impossible from the tranquil aspects of the heavens and the ocean; and secondly, because i felt no doubt that the wash of the water and the sound of the winds would arouse me, should it occur differently. as on the previous night, i slept sweetly, and obtained renewed strength for any future trials. as on the preceding morning, too, i was awaked by the warm rays of the rising sun falling on my face. on first awaking, i did not know exactly where i was. a moment's reflection, however, sufficed to recall the past to my mind, and i turned to examine my actual situation. i looked for the ship, towards the end of the mast, or in the direction where i had last seen her; but she was not visible. the raft had swung round in the night, i thought, and i bent my eyes slowly round the entire circle of the horizon, but no ship was to be seen. the dawn had sunk in the night, and so quietly as to give no alarm! i shuddered, for i could not but imagine what would have been my fate, had i been aroused from the sleep of the living, only to experience the last agony as i passed away into the sleep of the dead. i cannot describe the sensation that came over me, as i gazed around, and found myself on the broad ocean, floating on a little deck that was only ten feet square, and which was raised less than two feet above the surface of the waters. it was now that i felt the true frailty of my position, and comprehended all its dangers. before, it had been shaded by the ship, as it might be, and i had found a species of protection in her presence. but, the whole truth now stood before me. even a moderate breeze would raise a sea that could not fail to break over the staging, and which must sweep everything away. the spars had a specific lightness, it is true, and they would never sink; or, if they did sink, it would only be at the end of ages, when saturated with water and covered with barnacles; but, on the other hand, they possessed none of the buoyancy of a vessel, and could riot rise above the rolling waters, sufficiently to clear their breakers. these were not comfortable reflections; they pressed on my mind even while engaged at my morning devotions. after performing, in the best manner i could, this never-ceasing duty, i ate a little, though i must admit it was with a small appetite. then i made the best stowage i could of my effects, and rigged and stepped the mast, hoisting the sail, as a signal to any vessel that might appear. i expected wind ere long; nor was i disappointed; a moderate breeze springing up from the north-west, about nine o'clock. this air was an immense relief to me, in more ways than one. it cooled my person, which was suffering from the intense heat of a summer's sun beating directly on a boundless expanse of water, and it varied a scene that otherwise possessed an oppressively wearisome sameness. unfortunately this breeze met me in the bows; for i had stepped my mast in the foremast, lashed it against the bottom of the top, which it will be remembered was now perpendicular, and stayed it to the mast-heads and dead-eyes of the top-mast rigging, all of which remained as when erect, though now floating on the water. i intended the fractured part of the foremast for my cut-water, and, of course, had to ware ship before i could gather any way. this single manoeuvre occupied a quarter of an hour, my braces, tacks, and sheets not working particularly well. at the end of that time, however, i got round, and laid my yard square. chapter xxiii. "there was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture; they looked, as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed: a notable passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say, if the importance were joy, or sorrow;--but in the extremity of the one, it must needs be." winter's tale. as soon as the raft got fairly before the wind, and the breeze had freshened, i had an opportunity of ascertaining what it would do. the royal was a large one, and it stood well. i had brought a log-line and the slow-glass with me, as well as my quadrant, slate, &c., and began to think of keeping a reckoning. i had supposed the ship to be, when it fell calm, about two hundred miles from the land, and i knew her to be in latitude ° ''. the log-line told me, the raft moved through the water, all that forenoon, at the rate of about half a knot in the hour; and could i keep on for fifteen or sixteen days, in a straight course, i might yet hope to get ashore. i was not so weak, however, as to expect any such miracle to be wrought in my favour, though, had i been in the trades, the thing might have occurred. by cutting adrift the two yards, or by getting them fore and aft, in a line with the water, my rate of sailing might be doubled; and i began seriously to think of effecting this great change. cut the yards adrift i did not like to do, their support in keeping me out of water being very important. by hauling on the lift, i did get them in a more oblique position, and in a measure thus lessened their resistance to the element. i thought that even this improvement made a difference of half a knot in my movement. nevertheless, it was tedious work to be a whole hour in going less than a single mile, when two hundred remained to be travelled, and the risks of the ocean were thus constantly impending over one! what a day was that! it blew pretty fresh at one time, and i began to tremble for my staging, or deck, which got washed several times, though the top-sail-yard made for it a sort of lee, and helped to protect it. towards the decline of the day, the wind went down, and at sunset everything was as tranquil as it had been the previous evening. i thought i might have been eight or nine miles from the spot where the dawn went down, without computing the influence of the currents, which may have set me all that distance back again, or so much further ahead, for anything i knew of the matter. at sunset i took an anxious survey of the horizon, to see if any sail were in sight; but nothing was visible. another tranquil night gave me another tranquil night's rest. i call the last tranquil, as it proved to be in one sense, though i was sorely troubled with dreams. had i been suffering for nourishment, i certainly should have dreamed of food; but, such not being the case, my thoughts took the direction of home and friends. much of the time, i lay half asleep and half awake; then my mind would revert to my sister, to lucy, to mr. hardinge, and to clawbonny--which i fancied already in the possession of john wallingford, who was triumphing in his ownership, and the success of his arts. then i thought lucy had purchased the place, and was living there with andrew drewett, in a handsome new house, built in the modern taste. by modern taste, i do not mean one of the grecian-temple school, as i do no think that even all the vagaries of a diseased imagination that was suffering under the calamities of shipwreck, could induce me to imagine lucy hardinge silly enough to desire to live in such a structure. towards morning, i fell into a doze, the fourth or fifth renewal of my slumbers that night; and i remember that i had that sort of curious sensation which apprises us itself, it was a dream. in the course of the events that passed through my mind, i fancied i overheard marble and neb conversing. their voices were low, and solemn, as i thought; and the words so distinct, that i still remember every syllable. "no, neb," said marble, or seemed to say, in a most sorrowful tone, one i had never heard him use even in speaking of his hermitage. "there is little hope for miles, now. i felt as if the poor boy was lost when i saw him swept away from me, by them bloody spars striking adrift, and set him down as one gone from that moment. you've lost an a. no. . master, mister neb, i can tell you, and you may sarve a hundred before you fall in with his like ag'in." "i nebber sarve anoder gentleum; misser marble," returned the black; "_dat_ as sartain as gospel. i born in 'e wallingford family, and i lib an' die in 'e same family, or i don't want to lib and die, at all. my real name be wallingford, dough folk do call me clawbonny." "ay, and a slim family it's got to be!" rejoined the mate. "the nicest, and the handsomest, and the most virtuous young woman in all york state, is gone out of it, first: i knew but little of her; but, how often did poor miles tell me all about her; and how he loved her, and how she loved him, and the like of all that, as is becoming; and something in the way that i love little kitty, my niece you know, neb, only a thousand times more; and hearing so much of a person is all the same, or even better than to know them up and down, if a body wants to feel respect with all his heart. secondly, as a person would say, now there's miles, lost too, for the ship is sartainly gone down, neb: otherwise, she would have been seen floating hereabouts, and we may log him as a man lost overboard." "p'rhaps not, misser marble," said the negro. "masser mile swim like a fish, and he isn't the gentleum to give up as soon as trouble come. p'rhaps he swimming about all dis time." "miles could do all that man could do, neb, but he can't swim two hundred miles--a south sea-man might do something like that, i do suppose, but they're onaccountably web-footed. no, no, neb; i fear we shall have to give him up. providence swept him away from us, like, and we've lost him. ah's me!--well, i loved that boy better, even, than a yankee loves cucumbers." this may be thought an odd comparison to cross a drowsy imagination, but it was one marble often made; and if eating the fruit, morning, noon and night, will vindicate its justice, the mate stood exonerated from everything like exaggeration. "ebbry body lub masser mile," said the warm-hearted neb, or i thought he so said. "i nebber see dat we _can_ go home to good old masser hardinge, and tell him how we lose masser mile!" "it will be a hard job, neb, but i greatly fear it must be done. however, we will now turn in and try to catch a nap, for the wind will be rising one of these times, and then we shall have need of keeping our eyes wide open." after this i heard no more; but every word of that which i have related, sounded as plainly in my ears as if the speakers were within fifty feet of me. i lay in the same state, some time longer, endeavouring, as i was curious myself, of catching, or fancying, more words from those i loved so well; but no more came. then i believe i fell into a deeper sleep, for i remember no more, for hours. at dawn i awoke, the care on my mind answering for a call. this time, i did not wait for the sun to shine in my eyes, but, of the two, i rather preceded, than awaited the return of the light. on standing erect, i found the sea as tranquil as it had been the previous night, and there was an entire calm. it was still so dusky that a little examination was necessary to be certain nothing was near. the horizon was scarcely clear, though, making my first look towards the east, objects were plainest in that quarter of the ocean. i then turned slowly round, examining the vast expanse of water as i did so; until my back was towards the approaching light, and i faced the west. i thought i saw a boat within ten yards of me! at first, i took it for illusion, and rubbed my eyes to make sure that i was awake. there it was, however, and another look satisfied me it was my own launch, or that in which poor neb had been carried overboard. what was more, it was floating in the proper manner, appeared buoyant, and had two masts rigged. it is true, that it looked dusky, as objects appear just at dawn, but it was sufficiently distinct. i could not be mistaken; it was my own launch thus thrown within my reach by the mercy of divine providence! this boat, then, had survived the gale, and the winds and currents had brought it and the raft together. what had become of neb? he must have rigged the masts, for none were stepped, of course, when the boat was in the chocks. masts, and sails, and oars were always kept in the boat, it is true; but the first could not be stepped without hands. a strange, wild feeling came over me, as a man might be supposed to yield to the appearance of supernatural agencies and, almost without intending it, i shouted "boat ahoy!" "yo hoy!" answered marble;--"who hails?" the form of the mate appeared rising in the boat; at the next instant, neb stood at his side. the conversation of the previous night had been real, and those whom i had mourned as lost stood within thirty feet of me, hale, hearty, and unharmed. the boat and raft had approached each other in the darkness; and, as i afterwards learned, the launch having fanned along for several hours of the night, stopped for want of wind nearly where i now saw her, and where the dialogue, part of which i overheard while half asleep, had taken place. had the launch continued on its course only ten yards further, it would have hit the fore-top-mast. that attraction of which i have already spoken, probably kept the boat and raft near each other throughout the night, and quite likely had been slowly drawing them together while we slept. it would not be easy to say which party was the most astonished at this recognition. there was marble, whom i had supposed washed off the raft, safe in the launch; and here was i, whom the other two had thought to have gone down in the ship, safe on the raft! we appeared to have changed places, without concert and without expectation of ever again meeting. though ignorant of the means through which all this had been brought about, i very well know what we did, as soon as each man was certain that he saw the other standing before him in the flesh. we sat down and wept like three children. then neb, too impatient to wait for marble's movements, threw himself into the sea, and swam to the raft. when he got on the staging, the honest fellow kissed my hands, again and again, blubbering the whole time like a girl of three or four years of age. this scene was interrupted only by the expostulations and proceedings of the mate. "what's this you're doing, you bloody nigger!" cried marble. "desarting your station, and leaving me here, alone, to manage this heavy launch, by myself. it might be the means of losing all hands of us again, should a hurricane spring up suddenly, and wreck us over again." the truth was, marble began to be ashamed of the weakness he had betrayed, and was ready to set upon anything, in order to conceal it. neb put an end to this sally, however, by plunging again into the water, and swimming back to the boat, as readily as he had come to the raft. "ay, here you are, neb, nigger-like, and not knowing whether to stay or to go," growled the mate, busy the whole time in shipping two oars. "you put me in mind of a great singer i once heard in liverpool; a chap that would keep shaking and quavering at the end of a varse, in such a style that he sometimes did not know whether to let go or to hold on. it is onbecoming in men to forget themselves, neb; if we have found him we thought to be lost, it is no reason for desarting our stations, or losing our wits--miles, my dear boy," springing on the raft, and sending neb adrift again, all alone, by the backward impetus of the leap--"miles, my dear boy, god be praised for this!" squeezing both my hands as in a vice--"i don't know how it is--but ever since i 've fallen in with my mother and little kitty, i've got to be womanish. i suppose it's what you call domestic affection." here, marble gave in once more, blubbering just as hard as neb, himself, had done. a few minutes later, all three began to know what we were about. the launch was hauled up alongside of the stage, and we sat on the latter, relating the manner in which each of us had been saved. first, then, as to neb: i have already told the mode in which the launch was swept overboard, and i inferred its loss from the violence of the tempest, and the height of the seas that were raging around us. it is true, neither marble, nor i, saw anything of the launch after it sunk behind the first hill of water to leeward, for we had too much to attend to on board the ship, to have leisure to look about us. but, it seems the black was enabled to maintain the boat, the right side up, and, by bailing, to keep her afloat. he drove to leeward, of course, and the poor fellow described in vivid terms his sensations, as he saw the rate at which he was driving away from the ship, and the manner in which he lost sight of her remaining spars. as soon as the wind would permit, however, he stepped the masts, and set the two luggs close-reefed, making stretches of three or four miles in length, to windward. this timely decision was the probable means of saving all our lives. in the course of a few hours, after he had got the boat under command, he caught a glimpse of the fore-royal-masts sticking out from the cap of a sea, and watching it eagerly, he next perceived the whole of the raft, as it came up on the same swell, with marble, half-drowned, lashed to the top. it was quite an hour, before neb could get near enough to the raft, or spars, to make marble conscious of his presence, and sometime longer ere he could get the sufferer into the boat. this rescue did not occur one minute too soon, for the mate admitted to me he was half drowned, and that he did not think he could have held out much longer, when neb took him into the boat. as for food and water, they fared well enough. a breaker of fresh water was kept in each boat, by my standing orders, and it seems that the cook, who was a bit of an epicure in his way, was in the habit of stowing a bag of bread, and certain choice pieces of beef and pork, in the bows of the launch, for his own special benefit. all these neb had found, somewhat the worse for salt-water, it is true, but still in a condition to be eaten. there was sufficient in the launch, therefore, when we thus met, to sustain marble and neb, in good heart, for a week. as soon as the mate was got off the raft, he took direction of the launch. unluckily, he made a long stretch to the northward, intending to tack and cross what he supposed must have been the position of the ship, and come to my relief. while the launch was thus working its way to windward, i fell in with, and took possession of, the raft, as has been described. marble's calculation was a good one, in the main; but it brought him near the dawn the night she sank, and the raft and boat were both too low to be seen at any distance, the one from the other. it is probable we were not more than ten or twelve miles asunder the most of the day i was on the raft, marble putting up his helm to cross the supposed position of the ship, about three in the afternoon. this brought him down upon the raft, about midnight, when the conversation i have related took place, within a few yards of me, neither party having the least notion of the proximity of the other. i was touched by the manner in which marble and neb spoke of my supposed fate. neither seemed to remember that he was washed away from a ship, but appeared to fancy that i was abandoned alone, on the high seas, in a sinking vessel. while i had been regretting their misfortunes, they had both thought of me as the party to be pitied; each fancying his own fortune more happy than mine. in a word, their concern for me was so great, that they altogether forgot to dwell on the hardships and dangers of their own particular cases. i could not express all i felt on the occasion; but the events of that morning, and the feelings betrayed by my two old shipmates, made an impression on my heart, that time has not, nor ever can, efface. most men who had been washed overboard, would have fancied themselves the suffering party; but during the remainder of the long intercourse that succeeded, both marble and neb always alluded to this occurrence as if i were the person lost and rescued. we were an hour or more intently occupied in these explanations, before either recollected the future. then i felt it was time to have some thought for our situation, which was sufficiently precarious, as it was; though marble and neb made light of any risks that remained to be run. i was saved, as it might be, by a miracle; and that was all that they could remember, just then. but a breeze sprang up from the eastward, as the sun appeared, and the agitation of the raft soon satisfied me that my berth would have been most precarious, had i not been so providentially relieved. it is true, marble made light of the present state of things, which, compared to those into which he had been so suddenly launched,--without food, water, or provisions, of any sort,--was a species of paradise. nevertheless, no time was to be wasted; and we had a long road to travel in the boat, ere we could deem ourselves in the least safe. my two associates had got the launch in as good order as circumstances would allow. but it wanted ballast to carry sail hard, and they had felt this disadvantage; particularly neb, when he first got the boat on a wind. i could understand, by his account of the difficulties and dangers he experienced,--though it came out incidentally, and without the smallest design to magnify his own merits,--that nothing but his undying interest in me, could have prevented him from running off before the wind, in order to save his own life. an opportunity now offered to remedy this evil, and we went to work to transfer all the effects i had placed on the stage, to the launch. they made a little cargo that gave her stability at once. as soon as this was done, we entered the boat, made sail, and hauled close on a wind, under reefed luggs; it beginning to blow smartly in puffs. i did not part from the raft without melancholy regrets. the materials of which it was composed were all that now remained of the dawn. then the few hours of jeopardy and loneliness i had passed on it, were not to be forgotten. they still recur vividly to my thoughts with deep, and, i trust, profitable, reflections. the first hour after we cast off, we stood to the southward. the wind continuing to increase in violence, and the sea to get up, until it blew too fresh for the boat to make any headway, or even to hold her own against it, marble thought he might do better on the other tack,--having some reason to suppose there was a current setting to the southward and eastward,--and we wore round. after standing to the northward for a sufficient length of time, we again fell in with the spars; a proof that we were doing nothing towards working our way to windward. i determined, at once, to make fast to them, and use them as a sort of floating anchor, so long as the foul wind lasted. we had some difficulty in effecting this object; but we finally succeeded in getting near enough, under the lee of the top, to make fast to one of its eye-bolts--using a bit of small hawser, that was in the boat, for that purpose. the boat was then dropped a sufficient distance to leeward of the spars, where it rode head to sea, like a duck. this was a fortunate expedient; as it came on to blow hard, and we had something very like a little gale of wind. as soon as the launch was thus moored, we found its advantage. it shipped no more water, or very little, and we were not compelled to be on the look-out for squalls, which occurred every ten or fifteen minutes, with a violence that it would not do to trifle with. the weather thickened at these moments; and there were intervals of half an hour at a time, when we could not see a hundred yards from the boat, on account of the drizzling, misty rain that filled the atmosphere. there we sat, conversing sometimes of the past, sometimes of the future, a bubble in the midst of the raging waters of the atlantic, filled with the confidence of seamen. with the stout boat we possessed, the food and water we had, i do not think either now felt any great concern for his fate; it being possible, in moderate weather, to run the launch far enough to reach an english port in about a week. favoured by even a tolerably fair wind, the object might be effected in even two or three days. "i take it for granted, miles," marble remarked, as we pursued our discourse, "that your insurance will completely cover your whole loss? you did not forget to include freight in the risks?" "so far from this, moses, i believe myself to be nearly or quite a ruined man. the loss of the ship is unquestionably owing to the act of the speedy, united to our own, in setting those englishmen adrift on the ocean. no insurers will meet a policy that has thus been voided." "ah! the blackguards!--this is worse than i had thought;--but you can always make a harbour at clawbonny?" i was on the point of explaining to marble how i stood in relation to the paternal acres, when a sort of shadow was suddenly cast on the boat, and i fancied the rushing of the water seemed to be increased at the same instant. we all three sat with our faces to leeward, and all turned them to windward under a common impulse. a shout burst from marble's throat, and a sight met my eyes, that caused the blood to rush in a torrent through my heart. literally within a hundred feet of us, was a large ship, ploughing the ocean with a furrow that rose to her hawse-holes, and piling before her, in her track, a mound of foam, as she came down upon us, with top-mast and lower studding-sails set--overshadowing the sea, like some huge cloud. there was scarcely time for more than a glance, ere this ship was nearly upon us. as she rose on a swell, her black sides came up out of the ocean, glittering and dripping, and the tine of frowning guns seemed as if just lacquered. neb was in the bow of the launch, while i was in the stern. my arm was extended involuntarily, or instinctively would be the better word, to avert the danger, when it seemed to me that the next send of the ship would crush us beneath the bright copper of her bottom. without neb's strength and presence of mind, we had been lost beyond a hope; for swimming up to the spars against the sea that was on, would have been next to hopeless; and even if there, without food, or water, our fate would have been sealed. but neb seized the hawser by which we were riding, and hauled the launch ahead her length, or more, before the frigate's larboard bower-anchor settled down in a way that menaced crushing us. as it was, i actually laid a hand on the muzzle of the third gun, while the ship went foaming by. at the next instant she was past; and we were safe. then all three of us shouted together. until that moment, none in the frigate were aware of our vicinity. but the shout gave the alarm, and as the ship cleared us, her taffrail was covered with officers. among them was one grey-headed man, whom i recognised by his dress for the captain. he made a gesture, turning an arm upward, and i knew an order was given immediately after, by the instantaneous manner in which the taffrail was cleared. "by george!" exclaimed marble, "i had a generalizing time of it, for half a dozen seconds, miles." "there was more risk," i answered, "than time to reflect on it. however, the ship is about to round-to, and we shall be picked up, at last. let us thank god for this." it was indeed a beautiful sight for a seaman, to note the manner in which that old captain handled his vessel. although we found the wind and sea too much for a boat that had to turn to windward, neither was of much moment to a stout frigate, that carried fifty guns, and which was running off, with the wind on her quarter. she was hardly past us, when i could see preparations making to take in canvass. at the instant she overshadowed us with her huge wings, this vessel had top-gallant-sails set, with two top-mast, and a lower studding-sail, besides carrying the lee-clew of her main-sail down, and the other customary cloth spread. up went her main-sail, almost as soon as the captain made the signal with his arm; then all three of the top-gallant-sails were flying at the same moment. presently, the yards were alive with men, and the loose canvass was rolled up, and the gaskets passed. while this was doing, down came all the studding-sails together, much as a bird shuts its wings. the booms disappeared immediately after. "look at that, miles!" cried the delighted marble. "although a bloody englishman, that chap leaves nothing to be done over again. he puts everything in its place, like an old woman stowing away her needles and thread. i'll warrant you, the old blade is a keen one!" "the ship is well handled, certainly, and her people work like mariners who are trying to save the lives of mariners." while this was passing between us, the frigate was stripped to her three top-sails, spanker, jib, and fore-course down came her yards, next; and then they were covered with blue-jackets, like bees clustering around a hive. we had scarcely time to note this, ere the men lay in, and the yards were up again, with the sails reefed. this was no sooner done, than the frigate, which had luffed the instant the steering-sails were in, was trimmed close on a wind, and began to toss the water over her sprit-sail-yard, as she met the waves like one that paid them no heed. no sooner was the old seaman who directed all this, assured of the strength of the wind he had to meet, than down went his main-sail again, and the tack was hauled aboard. the stranger was then under the smartest canvass a frigate can carry; reefs in her top-sails, with the courses set. her sail could be shortened in an instant, yet she was under a press of it; more than an ordinary vessel would presume to carry, perhaps, in so strong a breeze. notwithstanding the great jeopardy from which we had just escaped, and the imminent hazard so lately run, all three of us watched the movements of the frigate with as much satisfaction as a connoisseur would examine a fine painting. even neb let several nigger expressions of pleasure escape him. by the time sail could be shortened and the ship hauled close on a wind, the frigate was nearer half than a quarter of a mile off. we had to wait, therefore, until she could beat up to the place where we lay. this she soon did, making one stretch to the southward, until in a line with the boat, when she tacked, and came toward us, with her yards braced up, but having the wind nearly abeam. as she got within a cable's-length, both courses were hauled up and left hanging in the brails. then the noble craft came rolling by us, in the trough, passing so near that we might be spoken. the old officer stood in the weather gangway, with a trumpet, and he hailed, when near enough to be heard. instead of asking questions, to satisfy his own curiosity, he merely communicated his own intentions. "i'll heave-to, when past you," he cried out, "waring ship to do so. you can then drop down under my stern, as close as possible, and we'll throw you a rope." i understood the plan, which was considerate, having a regard to the feebleness of our boat's crew, and the weight of the boat itself. accordingly, when she had room enough, the frigate wore, hauling up close on the other tack, and laying her main-yard square. as soon as the ship was stationary, neb cast off the hawser, and marble and he manned two oars. we got the boat round without much risk, and, in less time than it takes to write it, were sending down towards the ship at a furious rate. i steered, and passed so near the frigate's rudder, that i thought, for an instant, i had gone too close. a rope was hove as we cleared the lee-quarter of the frigate, and the people on board hauled us alongside. we caught the man-ropes, and were soon on the quarter-deck. a respectable-looking elderly man, of a square, compact frame, and a fine ruddy english face, in a post-captain's undress, received me, with an extended hand, and a frank, generous, hearty manner. "you are welcome on board the briton," he said, warmly; "and i thank god that he has put it in our power to relieve you. your ship must have been lost quite recently, as you do not seem to have suffered. when you feel equal to it, i should like to hear the name of your vessel, and the particulars of her disaster. i suppose it was in the late blow, which was a whacker, and did lots of mischief along the coast. i see you are americans, and that your boat is new york built; but all men in distress are countrymen." this was a hearty reception, and one i had every reason to extol. so long as i stayed with captain rowley, as this officer was named, i had no reason to complain of any change in his deportment. had i been his son, he could not have treated me more kindly, taking me into his own cabin, and giving me a seat at his own table. i gave him an outline of what had happened to us, not deeming it necessary to relate the affair with the speedy, however; simply mentioning the manner in which we had escaped from a french privateer, and leaving him to infer, should he see fit, that the rest of our crew had been carried away on that occasion. my reserve on the subject of the other capture, the reader will at once see, was merely a necessary piece of prudent caution. captain rowley had no sooner heard my story, which i made as short as possible, knowing that marble and neb had been cautioned on the subject, than he again took my hand, and welcomed me to his ship. the mate was sent into the gun-room, and recommended to the hospitality of the lieutenants; while neb was placed in the care of the cabin servants. a short consultation was then held about the boat, which it was decided must be sent adrift, after its effects were passed out of it; the briton having no use for such a launch, nor any place to stow it. i stood at the gangway, and looked with a melancholy eye at this last remnant of the dawn that i ever beheld: a large eighty thousand dollars of my property vanishing from the earth, in the loss of that ship and her cargo. chapter xxiv. some shout at victory's loud acclaim, some fall that victory to assure, but time divulges that in name, alone, our triumphs are secure. duo. the briton had come out of the cove of cork, only a few days before, and was bound on service, with orders to run off to the westward, a few hundred miles, and to cruise three months in a latitude that might cover the homeward-bound running ships, from the american provinces, of which there were many in that early period of the war. this was not agreeable news to us, who had hoped to be landed somewhere immediately, and who had thought, at first, on seeing the ship carrying a press of sail to the westward that she might be going to halifax. there was no remedy, however, and we were fain to make the best of circumstances. captain rowley promised to put us on board the first vessel that offered, and that was as much as we had a right, to ask of him. more than two months passed without the briton's speaking, or even seeing a single sail! to these vicissitudes is the seaman subject; at one time he is in the midst of craft, at another the ocean seems deserted to himself alone. captain rowley ascribed this want of success to the fact that the war was inducing the running ships to collect in convoys, and that his orders carried him too far north to permit his falling in with the americans, bound to and from liverpool. whatever may have been the reason, however, the result was the same to us. after the gale of the equinox, the briton stood to the southward, as far as madeira, such a change of ground being included in her instructions; and thence, after cruising three weeks in the neighbourhood of that island, she shaped her course for plymouth. in the whole, the frigate had, at that time, brought-to and boarded some thirty sail, all of whom were neutrals, and not one of whom was bound to a port that would do us any good. the ship's water getting low, we were now compelled to go in, and, as has been said, we made sail to the northward. the afternoon of the very day the briton left her second cruising ground, a strange ship was seen directly on our course, which was pronounced to be a frigate, before the sun set. the briton manoeuvred all night to close with the stranger, and with success, as he was only a league distant, and a very little to windward of her, when i went on deck early the next morning. i found the ship clear for action, and a degree of animation pervading the vessel, that i had never before witnessed. the people were piped to breakfast just as i approached the captain to salute him with a 'good morning.' "good morning to you, wallingford," cried the old man, in a cheerful way; "you are just in time to take a look at yonder frenchman in his glory. two hours hence i hope he'll not appear quite as much of a beau as he is a' this moment. she's a noble craft, is she not, and quite of our own force." "as for the last, sir," i answered, "there does not seem much to choose--she is what you call a thirty-eight, and mounts fifty guns, i dare say. is she certainly french?" "as certainly as this ship is english. she can do nothing with our signals, and her rig is a character for her. whoever saw an englishman with such royal-masts and yards? so, master wallingford, you must consent to take your breakfast an hour earlier than common, or go without it, altogether. ah--here is the steward to say it waits for us." i followed captain rowley to the cabin, where i found he had sent for marble, to share our meal. the kind-hearted old gentleman seemed desirous of adding this act of civility to the hundred others that he had already shown us. i had received much generous and liberal treatment from captain rowley, but never before had he seemed so much disposed to act towards me as a father would act to a son as on that morning. "i hope you have done justice to davis's cookery, gentlemen," he said, after the assault on the eatables began to abate a little in ardour, "for this may be the last opportunity that will offer to enjoy it. i am an englishman, and have what i hope is a humble confidence in the superiority of an english over a french ship; but i very well know we never get even a french ship without working for it; and yonder gentleman may not leave us any crockery, for to-morrow. he evidently means to fight us, and i think will do himself credit." "i believe you english always go into action against the french with a confidence of victory," i remarked. "why, we have brought our lads up to that feeling, certainly, though i would not have you fancy i am quite of that way of thinking. i am too old, and have seen too much service, wallingford, not to know that every battle is liable to accidents and vicissitudes. there is some difference in service, i must suppose, though not half as much in men as is vulgarly imagined. the result is in the hands of god, and i _do_ think we are fighting his battles, in this fearful war: therefore, i trust he will take care of us." i was surprised to find captain rowley, who was usually cheerful and gay, talking in this manner; but it did not become me to pursue the subject. in a minute or two, we rose from table, and i heard the order given to the steward to report to the first-lieutenant as soon as the table was cleared away, that the cabin bulkheads might be removed. marble and i then passed below, into a canvass berth that had been made for him, where we could consult together without danger of interruption. just as we reached the place, the drum beat to quarters. this carried nearly every one else on deck, and left us virtually alone. "well, miles," commenced marble, "this v'y'ge will beat any other of our v'y'ges, and give it fifty. we have been twice captured, once wrecked, have seen a fight, and are about to _feel_ another. what do you think patriotism, and republican vartoo, require us to do, in such a crisis?" this was the first time i had ever heard my mate mention republicanism, his habits being certainly as much opposed to liberty, as those of napoleon himself. although the reader probably will not understand the drift of his question, it was not lost on me. i answered, therefore, like one who fully comprehended him. "i am afraid, moses," said i, "there is very little republicanism in france just now, nor do i know that resemblance in governments makes nations friends. unless the resemblance be complete, i rather think they are more disposed to quarrel about the differences, than to allow the merits of the points of affinity. as between england and france, however, since we are at peace with both, we americans have nothing to do with their quarrels." "i thought that would be your idee, miles, and yet it would be awkward to be in the midst of a fight, and take no part in it. i'd give a hundred dollars to be on board that frenchman, this minute." "are you so much in love with defeat, as to wish to be flogged?" "i don't know how it is, but it goes ag'in the grain to take sides with a john bull." "there is no necessity for taking sides with either, though we can remember how these people have saved our lives, how kind they have been to us, and that we have literally lived three months on their bounty. neb, i'm glad to see, makes fair weather of it, on the berth-deck." "ay, there's more in that than you dream of, perhaps. mr. clements, the first-lieutenant of this ship, is a sly one; and he thinks more of a good seaman than some priests do of piety. if i'm not greatly misled, he intends that neb shan't quit this ship till the peace." "how! they surely cannot pretend that the black is an englishman?" "there are all kinds of englishmen, black and white, when seamen grow scarce. hows'ever, there is no use in looking out for the worst--we shall know all about it, when the ship gets in. how are we to behave, miles, in this here battle? it goes ag'in my feelin's to help an englishman; and yet an old salt don't like to keep under hatches, while powder is burning on deck." "it would be wrong for either of us to take any part in the action, since we have nothing to do with the quarrel. still, we may appear on deck, unless ordered below; and i dare say opportunities will offer to be of use, especially in assisting the hurt. i shall go on the quarter-deck, but i would advise you not to go higher than the gun-deck. as for neb, i shall formally offer his services in helping to carry the wounded down." "i understand you--we shall all three sarve in the humane gang--well, when a man has no business with any other, that may be better than none. your standing idle in a fight must be trying work!" marble and i conversed a little longer on this subject, when a gun fired from the upper-deck gave us notice that the game was about to begin. each hastened to his intended post without more words. when i reached the quarter-deck, everything denoted the eve of a combat. the ship was under short canvass, the men were at quarters, the guns were cast loose, and were levelled; the tompions were all out, shot was distributed about the deck; and here and there some old salt of a captain might be seen squinting along his gun, as if impatient to begin. a silence like that of a deserted church reigned throughout the ship. had one been on board her intended adversary, at that same instant, be would have been deafened by the clamour, and confused with the hurried and disorderly manner in which preparations that were long before completed on board the british, were still in progress on board the frenchman. four years earlier, the same want of preparation had given nelson his great victory at the nile. the french, in order to clear their outer batteries, had lumbered those in-shore; and when half their enemies unexpectedly passed inside, they found their ships were not prepared to fire; ships that were virtually beaten, before they had discharged an effective shot. "wallingford," said my old friend the captain, as soon as i approached him, "you have nothing to do here. it would not be proper for you to take a part in this action, and it would be folly to expose yourself without an object." "i am quite aware of all this, captain rowley, but i have thought your kindness to me was so great as to permit me to be a looker-on. i may be of some service to the wounded, if to nothing else; and i hope you think me too much of an officer to get in the way." "i am not certain, sir, i ought to permit anything of the sort," returned the old man, gravely. "this fighting is serious business, and no one should meddle with it whose duty does not command it of him. see here, sir," pointing at the french frigate, which was about two cable's-lengths distant, with her top-gallant-sails clewed up and the courses in the brails; "in ten minutes we shall be hard at it, and i leave it to yourself to say whether prudence does not require that you should-go below." i had expected this; and, instead of contesting the matter, i bowed, and walked off the quarter-deck, as if about to comply. "out of sight, out of mind," i thought;--it would be time enough to go below, when i had seen the beginning of the affair! in the waist i passed the marines, drawn up in military array, with their officer as attentive to dressing them in line as if the victory depended on its accuracy. on the forecastle i found neb, with his hands in his pockets, watching the manoeuvres of the french as the cat watches those of the mouse. the fellow's eye was alive with interest; and i saw it was useless to think of sending him below. as for the officers, they had taken their cue from the captain, and only smiled good-naturedly as i passed them. the first-lieutenant, however, was an exception. he never had appeared well-disposed towards us, and, i make no doubt, had i not been so hospitably taken into the cabin, we should all have got an earlier taste of his humour. "there is too much good stuff in that fellow," he drily remarked, in passing, pointing towards neb at the same time, "for him to be doing nothing, at a moment like this." "we are neutrals, as respects france, mr. clements," i answered, "and it would not be right for us to take part in your quarrels. i will not hesitate to say, however, that i have received so much kindness on board the briton, that i should feel miserable in not being permitted to share your danger. something may turn up, that will enable me to be of assistance--ay, and neb, too." the man gave me a keen look, muttered something between his teeth, and walked aft, whither he was proceeding when we met. i looked in the direction in which he went, and could see he was speaking in a surly way to captain rowley. the old gentleman cast a look forward, shook a finger at me, then smiled in his benevolent way, and turned, as i thought, to look for one of the midshipmen who acted as his aids. at that moment, the frenchman went in stays, delivering his whole broadside, from aft forward, as the guns bore. the shot told on the british spars smartly, though only two hulled her. as a matter of course, this turned the thoughts of captain rowley to the main business in hand, and i was forgotten. as for neb, he immediately made himself useful. a shot cut the main-spring-stay, just above his head; and before i had time to speak, the fellow seized a stopper, and caught one of the ends of the stay, applied the stopper, and was hard at work in bringing the rope into its proper place, and in preparing it again to bear a strain. the boatswain applauded his activity, sending two or three forecastle-men to help him. from that moment, neb was as busy as a bee aloft, now appearing through openings in the smoke, on this yard-arm, now on that, his face on a broad grin, whenever business of more importance than common was to be done. the briton might have had older and more experienced seamen at work in her rigging, that day, but not one that was more active, more ready when told what to do, or more athletic. the _gaité de coeur_ with which this black exerted himself in the midst of that scene of strife, clamour and bloodshed, has always presented itself to my mind as truly wonderful. captain rowley did not alter his course, or fire a gun, in answer to the salute he received, though the two ships were scarcely a cable's-length asunder when the frenchman began. the briton stood steadily on, and the two ships passed each other, within pistol-shot, a minute or two later, when we let fly all our larboard guns. this was the beginning of the real war, and warm enough it was, for half an hour or more,--our ship coming round as soon as she had fired, when the two frigates closed broadside and broadside, both running off nearly dead before the wind. i do not know how it happened, but when the head-yards were swung, i found myself pulling at the fore-brace, like a dray horse. the master's mate, who commanded these braces, thanked me for my assistance, in a cheerful voice, saying, "we'll thrash 'em in an hour, captain wallingford." this was the first consciousness i had, that my hands had entered into the affair at all! i had now an opportunity of ascertaining what a very different thing it is to be a spectator in such a scene, from being an actor. ashamed of the forgetfulness that had sent me to the brace, i walked on the quarter-deck, where blood was already flowing freely. everybody, but myself, was at work, for life or death. in , that mongrel gun, the carronade, had come into general use, and those on the quarter-deck of the briton were beginning to fly round and look their owners in the face, when they vomited their contents, as they grew warm with the explosion. captain rowley, clements, and the master, were all here, the first and last attending to the trimming of the sails, while the first-lieutenant looked a little after the battery, and a little at everything else. scarce a minute passed, that shot did not strike somewhere, though it was principally aloft; and the wails of the hurt, the revolting part of every serious combat, began to mingle in the roar of the contest. the english, i observed, fought sullenly, though they fought with all their hearts. occasionally, a cheer would arise in some part of the ship; but these, and the cries of the hurt, were fire on the briton, as well as the manner in which the english repaid all they received. while standing near the main-mast, in the battery that was not engaged, marble made me out in the smoke, and came-up to speak to me. "them frenchmen are playing their parts like men," he said. "there's a shot just gone through the cook's coppers, and another through the boats. by the lord harry, if the boys on this deck do not bestir themselves, we shall get licked. i wouldn't be licked by a frenchman on any account, miles.--even little kitty would point her finger at me." "we are only passengers, you know, moses; and can have little concern with victory, or defeat, so long as the striped and starred bunting has nothing to do with the credit of the thing." "i am not so sure of that, miles.--i do not like being flogged, even as a passenger. there! just look at that, now! two or three more such raps, and half our guns will be silenced!" two shot had come in together, as marble thus interrupted himself; one of them knocking away the side of a port, while the other laid four men of its gun on the deck. this gun was on the point of being discharged, as the injury was inflicted; but the loss of its captain prevented it from being fired. the lieutenant of the division caught the match from the fallen seaman, gave it a puff with his breath, and applied it to the priming. as the gun came leaping in, the lieutenant turned his head to see where he could best find men to supply the place of those who had been killed, or wounded. his eyes fell on us. he asked no questions; but merely looked in our direction. "ay, ay, sir," said marble, stripping off his jacket, and taking the tobacco from his mouth. "in one moment.--just hold on, till i'm ready." i scarce knew whether to remonstrate, or not: but hard at it he went; and, delighted by his zeal, the officer clapped him on the back, leaving him to act as captain of the gun. afraid the contagion might extend to myself, i turned, ascended the ladder, and was immediately on the quarter-deck again. here i found old captain rowley, with his hat off, cheering his men,--the frenchman's main-top-mast having just gone over his side. it was not a time to make my report, nor was any needed just then; so i walked aft as far as the taffrail, in order to get out of the way, and to make my observations as much removed from the smoke as possible. this was the only opportunity i enjoyed of noting the relative positions, as well as conditions, of the two vessels. the briton had suffered heavily aloft; but all her principal spars still stood. on the other hand, her antagonist had lost both main and mizen-top-masts, and her fire had materially slackened within the last fifteen minutes. she was falling more under a quarter-raking fire, too, from her people's losing command of their ship; the two frigates having, some time before, come by the wind--the englishman a little on the frenchman's weather-quarter. as is usual, in a heavy cannonade and a moderate breeze, the wind had died away, or become neutralized, by the concussions of the guns, and neither combatant moved much from the position he occupied. still the briton had her yards knowingly braced, while those of her enemy were pretty much at sixes and sevens. under such circumstances, it was not difficult to predict the result of the engagement; more especially as the spirits of the britons seemed to be rising with the duration of the combat. i was still making my observations, when i heard the crack of a shot, and the ripping of plank, on the forward part of the quarter-deck. a little group collected around a falling man, and i thought i caught a glimpse of captain rowley's uniform and epaulettes, in the sufferer. in an instant i was on the spot. sure enough, there was my old friend grievously wounded. clements was also there. catching my eye, he observed-- "as you are doing nothing, sir, will you assist in carrying captain rowley below?" i did not like the manner in which this was said, nor the expression of the first-lieutenant's eye while saying it. they seemed to me to add, "i shall now command this ship, and we shall see if new lords don't produce new laws," i complied, however, of course, and, aided by two of his own servants, i got the poor old man into the gun-room. the instant the surgeon cast his eyes on the injuries, i saw by his countenance, there was no hope. his words soon confirmed the bad news. "the captain cannot live half an hour," this gentleman said to me aside, "and all we can do will be to give him what he asks for. at present he is stupified by the shock of the blow, but, in a few minutes, he will probably ask for water, or wine and water; i wish, sir, you would indulge him in his wishes, for you can have no duty to call you on deck. this will be a lucky hit for clements, who will run off with more than half the credit of the battle, though i fancy the frenchman has as much as he wants already." and so it turned out, literally, in the end. about twenty minutes after i went below, during which time the briton did most of the fighting, we heard the cheer of victory on deck. these sounds appeared to cause the wounded man to revive. "what means that, wallingford?" he asked in a stronger voice than i could have thought it possible for him to use, "what do these cheers mean, my young friend?" "they mean, captain rowley, that you have conquered--that you are master of the french frigate." "master!--am i master of my own life? of what use is victory to me, now? i shall die--die soon, wallingford, and there will be an end of it, all! my poor wife will call this a melancholy victory." alas! what i could say? these words were only too true as respects himself, and, i dare say, as respected his wife, also. die he did, and in my presence, and that calmly, with all his senses about him; but, i could see, he had his doubts whether a little lustre like that which attended his end, was fulfilling all the objects of his being. the near view of death places a man on a moral eminence, whence he commands prospects before and behind, on each side and on every side, enabling him to overlook the whole scene of life from its commencement to its close, and to form an opinion of his own place in a drama that is about to close. like many of those who exhibit themselves for our amusement, and to purchase our applause, he is only too apt to quit the stage less satisfied with his own performances, than the thoughtless multitude, who, regarding merely the surfaces of things, are too often loudest in their approbation when there is the least to praise. i shall pass over the next ten days, with a very brief allusion to their events. the first proof i had of mr. clements being commanding officer, was my being transferred from the cabin to the gun-room. it is true, there was no want of space in my new apartment, for officering and manning the prize had left several state-rooms vacant in the briton's gun-room, which fell to the shares of the french prisoners and myself. poor captain rowley was preserved in spirits and then things went on pretty much as before, with the exception that our crippled condition and reduced crew rendered us no longer anxious to fall in with frenchmen. i may say, in this place, also, that now the excitement which had carried him away was gone, marble was profoundly ashamed of the part he had taken in the late affair. he had fought under english colours, once more; and, though i seldom dared to allude to the thing, it is my opinion he heartily regretted his conduct, to his dying day. as for neb, all seemed right enough in his eyes; for, though he well understood the distinctions between flags and countries, he always imagined it a duty to stick by the craft in which he happened to be. ten days after i had been living under the _régime_ of "new lords and new laws," we fell in with a frigate, in the chops of the channel, and exchanged signals with her. the reader will judge of marble's and my dissatisfaction, when we heard it announced that the ship which was then fast approaching us, was the speedy. there was no help for it, however; she was already within gun-shot, and soon rounded-to, within hail of the briton, which ship had hove-to, to wait for her. in a few minutes, lord harry dermond, in person, was alongside of us, in a boat, to show his orders to captain rowley, and report himself, as the junior captain. i could not quit the quarter-deck, from a desire to ascertain, if possible, what had become of sennit and his companions, though prudence dictated concealment. clements met the young nobleman at the gangway, and, apologizing for not going on board the speedy, on account of the state of his boats, reported the late action and its results. lord harry then found himself the senior, instead of the junior commander, and he immediately began to ask questions. he was in the midst of these interrogatories, when his eye suddenly fell on me. he and clements were walking on the quarter-deck together, and i had gone into the gangway, to escape his notice, when this unexpected recognition took place. it occurred as the two were turning in their walk, and were so near me that i could hear what was said between them. "who have you there, leaning against the cutter, mr. clements?" demanded the captain of the speedy. "it's a face i know--some old ship-mate of mine, i fancy." "i rather think not, my lord--it's a-yankee we picked up at sea in a boat, a captain wallingford, of the american ship dawn. his vessel foundered in a gale, and all hands were lost but this gentleman, his mate, and a negro. we have had them on board, now, more than three months." a long, low whistle escaped from lord harry dermond, who immediately walked up to me, raised his hat, and commenced a very disagreeable sort of a dialogue, by saying--"your servant, mr. wallingford! we meet under very unusual circumstances, and somewhat often. the last time was at a rather interesting moment to me, and one in which i was so much engaged, that i had not leisure properly to pay my respects to you. mr. clements, i have a little business to transact with this gentleman, and must ask the favour of your company and his, for a few minutes, in your cabin." no objection could be raised to this request; and i followed the two officers into the briton's cabin. chapter xxv. o i hae scarce to lay me on, if kingly fields were ance my ain; wi' the moor-cock on the mountain-bree, but hardship na'er can daunton me. scottish song. there was an air of cool deliberation about lord harry dermond, which satisfied me i should have to pass through a trying ordeal; and i prepared myself for the occasion. nothing was said until all three of us were in the after-cabin, when clements and his visiter took seats on the sofa, and a motion was made to me to occupy a chair. then lord harry dermond commenced the discourse, in a manner more serious than i could have wished. "mr. wallingford," he said, "there is little need of preliminaries between you and me. i recollected your ship, when the black prince and speedy were in the act of closing with the frenchmen, three months since; and i need scarcely say that the manner in which she got back to the place where i then saw her, requires an explanation at your hands." "it shall be given to you, my lord. believing you had no right to send in the dawn, and knowing that a detention of any length would prove my ruin, i regained possession of my own by the best means that offered." "this is at least frank, sir. you mean to be understood that you rose on my people in the night, murdered them, and that you subsequently lost your vessel from a want of force to take care of her." "this is partly true, and partly a mistake. i certainly should not have lost my ship had i been as strong-handed in the gale in which she was destroyed, as she was the day she left home: and she would have been as strong-handed in that gale, had we never fallen in with the speedy." "which is an indirect manner of saying that the wreck was owing to us?" "i shall very directly say, that i think it was; though by indirect means." "well, sir, on that point it is not probable we shall ever agree. you cannot suppose that the servants of the king of great britain will submit to your american mode of construing public law; but will easily understand that we leave such matters to our own admiralty judges. it is a matter of more moment to me, just now, to ascertain what has become of the officers and men that were put in charge of your ship. i saw the vessel, some time after i put mr. sennit and his party on board you, in your possession, (that we ascertained by means of our glasses;) and you now admit that you retook your vessel from these men. what has become of the prize-crew?" i briefly related the manner in which we had regained the possession of the dawn. the two english officers listened attentively, and i could discern a smile of incredulity on the countenance of clements; while the captain of the speedy seemed far from satisfied--though he was not so much disposed to let his real opinion be known. "this is a very well-concocted and well-told tale, my lord," said the first, with a sneer; "but i doubt whether it find many believers in the british service." "the british service, sir," i coldly retorted, "is, like all others, liable to reverses and accidents." "not exactly of this nature, mr. wallingford, you will yourself admit, on reflection. but i beg pardon, my lord: this is your affair--not mine; and i have been indiscreet in speaking." lord harry dermond looked as if he concurred in this sentiment. he had the pride of official rank, and that of private rank, to the usual degree; and did not exactly like the notion that one so much his inferior in both should take an affair so peculiarly his own out of his hands. he made a cold acknowledging bow, therefore, in reply, and paused a moment, like a man who reflected, ere he continued the discourse. "you must be aware, mr, wallingford, it is my duty to inquire closely into this matter," he at length resumed. "i am just out of port, where my ship has been lying to refit, several weeks, and it is not probable that either of my officers would be in england without reporting himself, had he reached home." "it is quite probable, my lord, that neither has reached home. i saw them picked up, with my own eyes, and by what appeared to me to be an outward-bound west indiaman. in that case, they have, most probably, all been carried to one of the west india islands." here clements handed lord harry desmond a paper with something written on it, in pencil, which the latter read. after running his eyes over it, the captain nodded his head, and the lieutenant quitted the cabin. while he was absent, my companion, in a polite manner, gave me the particulars of the combat i had witnessed, going so far as to direct my attention to a paper he had brought on board, to show to captain rowley, and which contained the english official account of the whole affair. on glancing at it, i saw that the presence of the dawn, on that occasion, was mentioned in ihe report; the name of the ship being given, with an allusion that was not very clear to the general reader, but which was plain enough to me. it was not long, however, before clements returned, and, without much ceremony, he informed me that the gun-room mess waited my appearance to sit down to dinner. on this hint, i rose and took my leave, though i had time to see marble enter the cabin, and neb standing by the scuttle-butt, under the charge of the sentinel, ere i dipped my head under hatches. the dinner lasted near an hour, and lord harry dermond civilly waited all that time, before he again summoned me to the cabin. i was surprised to find marble in the outer-cabin, neb near the door, in waiting, and the two officers with pen, ink, and paper before them, where they had been left by me. "mr. wallingford," lord harry commenced, "i hold it to be no more than fair to let you know that your mate's account of the manner in which the speedy's people got out of the dawn, and your own, do not agree in a single particular. here is his statement, taken down by myself from his own words; if you are disposed to hear it, i will read you what he says." "i do not well see how mr. marble can contradict me and tell the truth, my lord--but it were better i should hear his statement." "'i was first-mate of the dawn, of new york, miles wallingford master and owner. captured and ordered in by speedy, as known. three days after parting company with the frigate, with mr. sennit as prize-master, captain wallingford and i commenced reasoning with that gentleman on the impropriety of sending in a neutral and breaking up a promising voyage, which so overcame the said lieutenant sennit, in his mind, that he consented to take the ship's yawl with a suitable stock of provisions and water, and give us up the ship. accordingly, the boat was lowered, properly stowed, the most tender anxiety manifested for the party that was to go in her, when the english took their leave with tears in their eyes, and hearty good wishes for our safe arrival at hamburg.'" "am i to understand you seriously, lord harry dermond, that my mate has actually given you this account of the affair, for fact?" "most seriously, sir. i believe he even offered to swear to it, though i dispensed with that ceremony. here is the statement of the black. perhaps you would wish to hear that also?" "anything, my lord, it is your pleasure to communicate." "nebuchadnezzar clawbonny says, 'he belonged to the dawn--was left in her, when captured by speedy, and was in her when wrecked. captain wallingford ordered mr. sennit to quit his ship, or he would make him; and mr. sennit obeyed master miles, of course,' but i will read no more of this, as a slave's statement can hardly be relied on. perhaps we ought not to have received it, mr. clements?" "your pardon, my lord; it is our duty to protect his majesty's subjects, in the best mode we can." "that may be true, sir; but certain great principles ought never to be overlooked, even when doing our duty. you perceive, mr. wallingford, that your companions contradict your own account of this affair; and the most unpleasant suspicions are awakened. i should never justify myself to my superiors, were i to neglect putting you under arrest, and carrying you all in for trial." "if my companions have been so ill-judging as to make the statements you say, i can only regret it. i have told you the truth; and i can add no more. as for the future, i do not suppose any representation of mine will induce you to change your decision." "you carry it off well, sir; and i hope you will maintain the same appearance of innocence to the end. the lives of the king's subjects are not to be taken with impunity, nevertheless." "nor is the property of an american citizen, i trust, my lord. _had_ i used force to regain my ship, and _had_ i thrown the prize-crew into the sea, i conceive i would have been doing no more than was my duty." "this is well, sir; and i hope, for your sake, that an english jury will view the affair in the same light. at present, prepare to go on board the speedy--for you must not be separated from the important testimony we can find in that ship. as for the citizens you mention, they are bound to submit to the decision of the admiralty courts, and not to take the law into their own hands." "we shall see, my lord. when this case reaches my own country, we shall probably hear more of it." i uttered this in a sufficiently magnificent manner; and, to own the truth, i felt a little magnificently at the time. i was then young, not three-and-twenty; and i thought of my country, her independence, her justice, her disposition to do right, her determination to submit to no wrongs, and her disregard of the expedient when principles were concerned,--much as young people think of the immaculate qualities of their own parents. according to the decisions of judges of this latter class, there would not be a liar, a swindler, a cheat, or a mercenary scoundrel living; but the earth would be filled with so many suffering saints that are persecuted for their virtues. according to the notions of most american citizens of my age, the very name they bore ought to be a protection to them in any part of the world, under the penalty of incurring the republic's just indignation. how far my anticipations were realized, will be seen in the sequel;--and i beg the american reader, in particular, to restrain his natural impatience, until he can learn the facts in the regular order of the narrative. i can safely promise him, that should he receive them in the proper spirit, with a desire to ascertain truth only and not to uphold bloated and untenable theories, he will be a wiser, and probably a more modest man, for the instruction that is to be thus gleaned from the incidents it will be my painful office to record. as for lord harry dermond, the threatened indignation of the great american nation gave him very little concern. he probably cared a vast deal more for one frown from the admiral who commanded at plymouth, than for the virtuous resentment of the president and congress of the united states of america. i am writing of the close of the year , it will be remembered;--a remote period in the history of the great republic; though i will not take it on myself to say things have materially altered, except it be in the newspapers, in this particular interest. the order to prepare to quit the briton was repeated, and i was dismissed to the outer cabin, where was marble, while mr. clements attempted to shut the door that separated us, though, from some cause or other, he did not exactly effect his object. in consequence of this neglect, i overheard the following dialogue: "i hope, my lord," said clements, "you will not think of taking away the mate and the black. they are both first-rate men, and both well affected to his majesty's service. the negro was of great use aloft, during the late action, while the mate fought at a gun, like a tiger, for the better part of an hour. we are somewhat short of hands, and i have counted on inducing both these men to enter. there is the prize-money for the frenchman under our lee, you know, my lord; and i have little doubt of succeeding." "i'm sorry duty compels me to take all three, clements, but i'll bear what you say in mind; perhaps we can get them to enter on board the speedy. you know it--" here mr. clements discovered that the door was not shut, and he closed it tight, preventing my hearing any more. i now turned to marble, whose countenance betrayed the self-reproach he endured, at ascertaining the injury he had done, by his ill-judged artifice. i made no reproaches, however, but squeezed his hand in token of my forgiveness. the poor fellow, i plainly saw, had great difficulty in forgiving himself; though he said nothing at the moment. the conference between lord harry dermond and mr. clements, lasted half an hour. at the end of that time, both appeared in the forward cabin, and i saw by the countenance of the last, that he had failed in his object. as for us, we were transferred, with the few articles we possessed, to the speedy, on board which ship our arrival made as much of a sensation as the discipline of a man-of-war would permit. i was put in irons, the moment we reached the quarter-deck, and placed under the charge of a sentinel near the cabin-door. some little attention was paid to my comfort, it is true, and a canvass screen was fitted for me, behind which i ate and slept, with some sort of retirement. my irons were of so large a sort, that i found means to take them off, and to put them on, at pleasure. i was disposed to think that the officers were aware of the fact, and that the things were used as much for the sake of appearance as for anything else. apart from the confinement, and the injury done my affairs, i had no especial causes of complaint, though this imprisonment lasted until the month of april , or quite five months. during this time, the speedy arrived as far south as the line; then she hovered about the canaries and the azores, on her way homeward, looking in vain for another frenchman. i was permitted to take exercise, twice a day, once in the gangway, and once on the gun-deck, and my table was actually supplied from the cabin. on no head, had i any other cause to complain, than the fact that my ship had been wrongfully seized in the first place, and that i was now suffering imprisonment for a crime--if crime indeed it would have been--that i certainly had not been obliged to commit. during the five months i thus remained a prisoner on the gun-deck of the speedy, i never exchanged a syllable with either marble or neb. i saw them both occasionally, employed on duty, like the crew, and we often exchanged significant looks, but never any words. occasionally i had a visit from an officer; these gentlemen sitting down and conversing with me, on general topics, evidently to relieve the tedium of my confinement, without making any allusion to its cause. i cannot say that my health suffered, a circumstance that was probably owing to the cleanliness of the ship, and the admirable manner in which she was ventilated. at length we went into port, carrying with us a french ship from one of the islands to the eastward of the cape, as a prize. the speedy captured this vessel, after a smart chase to the northward of the azores, and marble and neb having volunteered to do so, were sent on board her, as two of the prize-crew. that day i got a visit from the purser, who was the most attentive of all my acquaintances, and i took the liberty of asking him if it were possible my two shipmates had entered into the british service. "why not exactly that," he said, "though they seem to like us, and we think both will ship rather than lose the prize-money they might get, for their services in the briton. your old mate is a prime fellow, the master tells me; but my lord fancying we might meet some french cruiser in the chops of the channel, thought it better to send these two chaps in the prize, lest they should take the studs and refuse to fight at the pinch. they have done duty, they say, to keep themselves in good health; and we humour them, to be frank with you, under the notion they may get to like us so well, as not to wish to quit us." this gave me an insight into the true state of the case, and i felt much easier on the subject. that marble ever intended to serve under the british flag, i had not supposed for a moment; but i was not sure that regret for the blunder he had already made, might not lead him into some new mistake of equally serious import, under the impression that he was correcting the evil. as for neb, i knew he would never desert me; and i had not, from the first, felt any other concern on his account, than an apprehension his ignorance might be imposed on. the day we anchored in plymouth sound, was thick and drizzling, with a fresh breeze at south-west. the ship came-to just at sunset, her prize bringing up a short distance in-shore of her, as i could see from the port, that formed a sort of window to my little canvass state-room. just as the ship was secured, lord harry dermond passed into his cabin, accompanied by his first-lieutenant, and i overheard him say to the latter-- "by the way, mr. powlett, this prisoner must be removed to some other place in the morning. now we are so near the land, it is not quite safe to trust him at a port." i was still musing on the purport of this remark, when i heard the noise of a boat coming alongside. putting my head out of the port, i could just see that the prize, master of the french ship had come on board, and that marble and neb were two of the four men who pulled the oars. marble saw me, and gave a sign of recognition, though it was so dark as to render it difficult to distinguish objects at a trifling distance. this sign i returned in a significant manner. it was this answering signal from me, that induced my mate not to quit the boat, and to keep neb with him. the other two men were so accustomed to do duty with the americans, that they did not scruple to run up the frigate's side, after their officer, eager to get a gossip with their old mess-mates on the berth-deck. almost at the same instant the officer of the deck called out-- "drop _la manerve's_ boat astern, out of the way of the captain's gig, which will be hauling up in a minute." this was on the larboard side, it is true; but a smart sea slapping against the starboard. lord harry was willing to dispense with ceremony, in order to escape a wet jacket. i cannot tell the process of reasoning that induced me to take the step i did; it was, however, principally owing to the remark i had so lately heard, and which brought all the danger of my position vividly to my mind. whatever may have been the moving cause, i acted as follows: my irons were slipped, and i squeezed myself between the gun and the side of the port, where i hung by my hands, against the ship's side. i might be seen, or i might not, caring little for the result. i was not seen by any but marble and neb, the former of whom caught me by the legs, as he passed beneath, and whispering to me to lie down in the bottom of the boat, he assisted me into the cutter. we actually rubbed against the captain's gig, as it was hauling up to the gangway; but no one suspected what had just taken place. this gig was the only one of the speedy's boats that was in the water, at that hour, it having just been lowered to carry the captain ashore. in another minute we had dropped astern, neb holding on by a boat-hook to one of the rudder-chains. here we lay, until the gig pulled round, close to us, taking the direction toward the usual landing, with the captain of the speedy in her. in two minutes the gig was out of sight, and marble whispered to neb to let go his hold. this was promptly done, when the boat of the prize began to drift from the ship, swept by a powerful tide, and impelled by a stiff breeze. no one paid any heed to us, everybody's thoughts being occupied with the shore and the arrival at such a moment. the time was fortunate in another particular: lord harry dermond was a vigilant and good officer: but his first-lieutenant was what is called on board ship "a poor devil;" a phrase that is sufficiently significant; and the moment a vigilant captain's back is turned, there is a certain ease and neglect in a vessel that has an indifferent first-lieutenant. every one feels at liberty to do more as he pleases, than has been his wont; and where there is a divided responsibility of this nature, few perform more duty than they can help. when "the cat is away, the mice come out to play." at all events, our boat continued to drop astern unobserved, until the ship itself became very faintly visible to us. i arose as soon as we were fifty feet from the rudder, and i assumed the direction of affairs as soon as on my feet. there were a mast and a lugg-sail in the boat, and we stepped the former and set the last, as soon as far enough from the speedy to be certain we could not be seen. putting the helm up, sufficiently to bring the wind on the quarter, i then stood directly out to sea. all this was accomplished in less than five minutes, by means of what the french call a sudden inspiration! to be sure, our situation was sufficiently awkward, now we had obtained something that had the semblance of freedom. neither of us had a single shilling of money, or an article of clothing but those we wore. there was not a mouthful of food of any sort in the boat, nor a drop of water. the night was lowering, and intensely dark; and the wind was blowing fresher than was at all desirable for a boat. still we determined to persevere, and we ran boldly off the land, trusting our common fate to providence. i hoped we might fall in with some american, bound in or out: should that fail us, france might be reached, if we had good luck, in the course of less than eight-and-forty hours. our situation afforded nothing to occupy the mind, but anxiety. we could not see a hundred yards, possessed no compass or any other guide on our way than the direction of the wind, and were totally without the means of refreshment or shelter. still, we managed to sleep, by turns, each having entire confidence in the skill of both the others. in this manner we got through the night, feeling no apprehensions of being pursued, the darkness affording an effectual cover. when the light returned, we discovered nothing in pursuit, though the weather was too thick to admit of our seeing any great distance around the boat. all the morning we continued running to the northward and eastward, under our single lugg reefed, only keeping clear of the seas that chased us, by dint of good management. as for eating or drinking, the first was out of the question; though we began to make some little provision to slake our thirst, by exposing our handkerchiefs to the drizzle, in order to wring them when they should become saturated with water. the coolness of the weather, however, and the mist, contributed to prevent our suffering much, and i do not know that i felt any great desire for either food or water, until towards the middle of the day. then we began to converse together, on the subject of dinner, in a jocular way, however, rather than with any very great longings on the subject. while thus employed, neb suddenly exclaimed, "dere a sail!" sure enough a ship was meeting us, heading up on the larboard tack about west-north-west, as she stretched in towards the english coast. i can see that vessel, in my mind's eye, even at this distant day! she had two reefs in her top-sails, with spanker, jib, and both courses set, like a craft that carried convenient, rather than urgent canvass. her line of sailing would take her about two hundred yards to leeward of us, and my first impulse was to luff. a second glance showed us she was an english frigate, and we doused our lugg as soon as possible. our hearts were in our mouths for the next five minutes. my eye never turned from that frigate, as she hove by us, now rising on the summit of a sea, now falling gracefully into the trough, concealing everything but her spars from sight. glad enough were we, when she had got so far ahead as to bring us well on her weather-quarter, though we did not dare set our sail again, until her dark, glistening hull, with its line of frowning ports, was shut up in the cloud of mist, leaving the spot on the ocean where she had last been seen, as if she were not. that was one of those hair-breadth escapes that often occur to men engaged in hazardous undertakings, without any direct agency of their own. our next adventure was of a more pleasing character. a good-sized ship was made astern, coming up channel before the wind, and carrying top-mast studding-sails. she was an american! on this point we were all agreed, and placing ourselves in her track, we ran off, on her course, knowing that she must be going quite two feet to our one. in twenty minutes she passed close to us, her officers and crew manifesting the greatest curiosity to learn who and what we were. so dexterously did marble manage the boat, that we got a rope, and hauled alongside without lessening the ship's way, though she nearly towed us under water in the attempt. the moment we could, we leaped on deck, abandoning the boat to its fate. we had not mistaken the character of the vessel. it was a ship from james' river, loaded with tobacco, and bound to amsterdam. her master heard our story, believed it, and felt for us. we only remained with him a week, however, quitting his vessel off the coast of holland, to go to hamburg, where i fancied my letters would have been sent, and whence i knew it would be equally in our power to reach home. at hamburg, i was fated to meet with disappointment. there was not a line for me, and we found ourselves without money in a strange place. i did not deem it prudent to tell our story, but we agreed to ship together in some american, and work our way home in the best manner we could. after looking about us a little, necessity compelled us to enter in the first vessel that offered. this was a philadelphia ship, called the schuylkill, on board which i shipped as second-mate, while marble and neb took the berths of foremast jacks. no one questioned us as to the past, and we had decided among ourselves, to do our duty and keep mum. we used our own names, and that was the extent of our communication on the subject of our true characters. i found it a little hard to descend so much on the ladder of life, but an early and capital training enabled me to act dicky over again, with some credit; and, before the ship went to sea, our chief mate was discharged for drunkenness, and i got a lift. marble was put in my place, and from that time, for the next five months, things went on smoothly enough; i say five months, for, instead of sailing for home direct, the ship went to spain, within the straits, for a cargo of barilla, which she took up to london, where she got a freight for philadelphia. we were all a little uneasy, at finding that our story, with sundry perversions and exaggerations, were in the english papers; but, by the time we reached england, it was forgotten; having been crowded out by the occurrence of new events of interest, at a moment when every week was teeming with incidents that passed into history. nevertheless, i was glad when we left england, and i once more found myself on the high seas, homeward bound. my wages had enabled me, as well as marble and neb, to get new outfits, suited to our present stations, and we sailed for philadelphia with as good a stock of necessaries as usually fall to the lot of men in our respective positions. these were all that remained to me of a ship and cargo that were worth between eighty and ninety thousand dollars! the passage proved to be very long, but we reached the capes of the delaware at last. on the th september, , or when i wanted a few weeks of being three-and-twenty, i landed on the wharves of what was then the largest town in america, a ruined and disappointed man. still i kept up my spirits, leaving my companions in ignorance of the extent of my misfortunes. we remained a few days to discharge the cargo, when we were all three paid off. neb, who had passed on board the schuylkill for a free black, brought me his wages, and when we had thrown our joint stock into a common bag, it was found to amount to the sum of one hundred and thirty-two dollars. with this money, then, we prepared to turn our faces north, marble anxious to meet his mother and little kitty, neb desirous of again seeing chloe, and i to meet my principal creditor john wallingford, and to gain some tidings of mr. hardinge and lucy. chapter xxvi. "you think, i'll weep. no, i'll not weep:-- i have full cause of weeping; but this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, or ere i'll weep." lear. i pass over the manner and time of our being on the road between philadelphia and new york, as things belonging to a former age, and to be forgotten. i will merely say that we travelled the south amboy road, and went through a part of the world called feather-bed lane, that causes my bones to ache, even now, in recollection. at south amboy, we got on board a sloop, or packet, and entered the bay of new york, by the passage of the kills, landing near white-hall. we were superintending the placing of our chests on a cart, when some one caught my hand, and exclaimed-- "god bless me!--captain wallingford come to life, as i live!" it was old jared jones, the man who had been miller at clawbonny from my infancy to the day i left home. i had supposed him to be at work there still; but the look he gave me--the tears that i could see were forcing themselves from his eyes--his whole manner, indeed,--gave me at once to understand that all was not right. my countenance, rather than my tongue, demanded an explanation. jared understood me, and we walked together towards the battery; leaving marble and neb to proceed with the luggage to the modest lodgings in which we had proposed to hide ourselves until i had time to look about me--a house frequented by moses for many years. "you perceive i do not return home, jared, in precisely the condition in which i went abroad. my ship and cargo are both lost, and i come among you, now, a poor man, i fear." "we were afraid that something of the sort must have happened, or such bad news would never have reached clawbonny, sir. some of your men got back months ago and they brought the tidings that the dawn was captivated by the english. from that hour, i think, mr. hardinge gave the matter up. the worst news, however, for us,--that of your death excepted,--was that of the mortgage on clawbonny." "the mortgage on clawbonny! has anything been done in connection with that?" "lord bless you, my dear mr. miles, it has been foreclosed, under the statue i believe they call it; and it was advertised to be sold three months. then, when it _was_ sold, how much do you think the place, mill and all, actually brought? just give a guess, sir?" "brought! clawbonny is then sold, and i am no longer the owner of my father's house!" "sold, sir; and we have been sent adrift--niggers and all. they said the freedom-laws would soon let all the older blacks be their own masters; and, as to the young 'uns, why, your creditors might sell their times. but mr. hardinge put the poor critturs into houses, near the rectory, and they work about among the neighbours, until things are settled. it's to their credit, mr. miles, that not one of 'em all thinks of runnin' away. with the feelin' that's up in the country consarnin' blacks, and no master to look arter them, every one of 'em might be off, without risk." "and chloe, my sister's own girl, what has become of chloe, jared?" "why, i believe miss lucy has tuck her. miss lucy is dreadful rich, as all allow: and she has put it in her father's power to take care of all the moveables. every huff [hoof] of living thing that was on the place, has been put on the wright farm, in readiness for their owner, should he ever come to claim them." "has miss hardinge had the consideration to hire that farm, with such an object?" "they say she has bought it, out of the savings of her income. it seems she is mistress of her income, though under age. and this is the use she has made of some of her money." "i had supposed she would have been married by this time. mr. drewett was thought to be engaged to her when i sailed." "yes: there is much talk about that, through the country; but they say miss lucy will never marry, until she has been of age a few weeks, in order that she may do what she pleases with her money, afore a husband can lay his hand on it. mr. rupert is married, i s'pose you heard, sir--and living away like a nabob with his bride, in one of the best houses in town. some people say, that he has a right in a part of old mrs. bradfort's estate, which he will get as soon as miss lucy comes of age." i did not like to pursue this part of the discourse any further, though it was balm to my wounds to hear these tidings of lucy. the subject was too sacred, however, to be discussed with such a commentator, and i turned the discourse to clawbonny, and the reports that might have circulated there concerning myself. green told me all he knew, which was briefly as follows: it seems that the second-mate of the dawn, and such of her crew as had been put in the speedy, and who had not been impressed either in the frigate itself, or in england after they were turned ashore, had found their way home, bringing with them an account of the capture of the ship, her extraordinary appearance near the four combatants, and their own attempt to escape. this last affair, in particular, had made some noise in the journals--a warm discussion having taken place on the subject of the right of americans to run away with an english man-of-war's boat, under the circumstances in which these poor fellows had found themselves placed. in that day, parties in america took as lively an interest in the wars of europe, as if the country were a belligerent; and politicians, or _quasi_ statesmen, were little more than retailers of the most ultra english and ultra french opinions. it was sufficient for the federalists to justify any act, if england did it; while the democrats had almost as strong a disposition to defend all the enormities which the policy of napoleon led him to commit. i say _almost_--for, to deal honestly with posterity, i do not think the french-american party was quite as french as the english-american party was english. these last had returned to their provincial dependence of thought; and, well-read in the english version of all political and moral truths, and little read in those of any other state of society, they believed, as he who worships at a distance from the shrine is known implicitly to yield his faith. the english party had actually a foundation in deeply-rooted opinion, and colonial admiration for the ancient seat of power, whereas the french owed its existence principally to opposition. the alliance of had some little influence among men old enough to have been active in the events of the revolution, it is true, but they existed as exceptions even in their own party. it was the english feeling that was natural, hearty, dependent, and deep; the other having been, as has just been stated, rooted as much in opposition, as in any other soil. the public discussions of the fate of the dawn, as a matter of course, had drawn much speculation, among my acquaintances, to my own. as month passed after month, and no letters reached america, the opinion became very general that the vessel was lost. at length, a ship from jamaica brought in a blind story of the manner in which i had re-taken my vessel from sennit; and, it now being known that we were only four left in the vessel, the conjecture was hazarded that we had been wrecked for want of force to take care of the ship; and i was set down as a drowned man. shortly after this opinion of my fate became general among my acquaintances, john wallingford had appeared at clawbonny. he made no change, however, spoke kindly to every one, told the slaves nothing should be altered, and gave them every reason to suppose that they would continue under a true wallingford régime. it was generally understood he was to be my heir, and no one saw any occasion for the acts of violence that succeeded. but, two months after john wallingford's visit, mr. hardinge, and all connected with clawbonny, had been astounded by the intelligence of the existence of the mortgage. a foreclosure under the statute, or 'statue,' as jared had called it, was commenced, and a few months later the place was publicly sold at kingston, none bidding more than five thousand dollars for it, less than a sixth of its worth. this sacrifice of real estate, however, under forced sales, was, and is, common enough in america, especially; it being generally understood that the creditor is prepared to rise in his bids, as necessity presents. in my case there was no one to protect my rights, mr. hardinge having attended the sale prepared to reason with my cousin on the propriety and generosity of his course, rather than prepared with good current coin to extinguish the claim. john wallingford did not appear, however, and the sale took place without further competition, than one bid of mr. hardinge's; a bid that he was not properly prepared to make, but which he hazarded on his knowledge of lucy's means and disposition. a man of the name of daggett, a relative of john wallingford's, by his mother's side, was the ostensible purchaser, and now professed to be the owner of my paternal acres. it was he who had taken possession under the purchase, had dismissed the negroes, and sent off the personal property; and he it was who had placed new servants on the farm and in the mill. to the surprise of everybody, john wallingford had not appeared in the transaction, though it was understood he had a legal right to all my remaining effects, in the event of my real death. no will was proved or produced, however, nor was anything heard of, or concerning, my cousin! mr. daggett was a close and reserved man, and nothing could be learned on the subject from him. his right to clawbonny could not be disputed, and after consulting counsel in the premises, mr. hardinge himself had been compelled, reluctantly, to admit it. such was the substance of what i gleaned from the miller, in a random sort of conversation that lasted an hour. of course, much remained to be explained, but i had learned enough, to know that i was virtually a beggar as to means, whatever i might be in feeling. when i parted from jared i gave him my address, and we were to meet again next day. the old man felt an interest in me that was soothing to my feelings, and i wished to glean all i could from him; more especially concerning lucy and mr. hardinge. i now followed marble and neb to the boarding-house, one frequented by masters and mates of ships, the masters being of the humble class to condescend thus to mingle with their subordinates. we consumed the rest of the morning in establishing ourselves in our rooms, and in putting on our best round-abouts; for i was not the owner of a coat that had skirts to it, unless, indeed there might be a few old garments of that sort among the effects that had been removed from clawbonny to the wright farm. notwithstanding this defect in my wardrobe, i would not have the reader suppose i made a mean or a disagreeable appearance. on the contrary, standing as i did, six feel one, in my shoes, attired in a neat blue round-about of mate's cloth, with a pair of quarter-deck trowsers, a clean white shirt, a black silk handkerchief, and a vest of a pretty but modest pattern, i was not at all ashamed to be seen. i had come from england, a country in which clothes are both good and cheap, and a trimmer-looking tar than i then was, seldom showed himself in the lower part of the town. marble and i had dined, and were preparing to sally forth on a walk up broadway, when i saw a meagre, care-worn, bilious-looking sort of a person enter the house, and proceed towards the bar, evidently with an inquiry concerning some of the inmates. the bar-tender pointed at once to me, when the stranger approached, and with a species of confidence that seemed to proclaim that he fancied news to be the great end of life, and that all who were engaged in its dissemination were privileged beings, he announced himself as colonel warbler, the editor of the new york republican freeman. i asked the gentleman into the common sitting-room, when the following dialogue took place between us. "we have just heard of your arrival, captain wallingford," commenced the _colonel_, all new york editors of a certain calibre seeming to be, ex-officio, of that blood-and-thunder rank, "and are impatient to place you, as it might be, _rectus in curiâ_, before the nation. your case excited a good deal of feeling some months since, and the public mind may be said to be prepared to learn the whole story; or, in a happy condition to indulge in further excitement. if you will have the goodness to furnish me with the outlines, sir," coolly producing pen, ink, and paper without further ceremony, and preparing to write, "i promise you that the whole narrative shall appear in the freeman of to-morrow, related in a manner of which you shall have no reason to complain. the caption is already written, and if you please, i will read it to you, before we go any further." then without waiting to ascertain whether i did or did not please to hear him, the colonel incontinently commenced reading what he called his caption. "'in the schuylkill, arrived lately at philadelphia, came passenger our esteemed fellow-citizen captain miles wallingford"--in , everybody had not got to be '_esquires_,' even the editors not yet assuming that title of gentility _ex officio_. "this gentleman's wrongs have already been laid before our readers. from his own mouth we learn the following outline of the vile and illegal manner in which he has been treated by an english man-of-war called the speedy, commanded by a sprig of nobility y'clepped lord"--i have left a blank for the name--"an account which will awaken in the bosom of every true-hearted american sentiments of horror and feelings of indignation, at this new instance of british faith and british insolence on the high-seas. it will be seen by this account, that not satisfied with impressing all his crew, and in otherwise maltreating them, this scion of aristocracy has violated every article of the treaty between the two countries, as respects captain wallingford himself, and otherwise trodden on every principle of honour; in a word--set at naught all the commandments of god. we trust there will be found no man, or set of men in the country, to defend such outrageous conduct, and that even the minions of england, employed around the federal presses of _our_ country, will be ready to join with us, on this occasion, in denouncing british aggression and british usurpation.' there, sir, i trust that is quite to your liking." "it is a little _ex parte_, colonel, as i have quite as much complaint to make of french as of english aggression, having been twice captured, once by an english frigate, and again by a french privateer. i prefer to tell the whole story, if i am to tell any of it." "certainly, sir; we wish to relate all the enormities of which these arrogant english were guilty." "i believe that, in capturing my ship, the english commander did me an act of great injustice, and was the cause of my ruin--" "stop, sir, if you please," interrupted colonel warbler writing with rapidity and zeal, "and thus caused the ruin of an industrious and honest man; ay, that ends a period beautifully--well, sir, proceed." "but, i have no personal ill treatment to complain of; and, the act of the french was of precisely the same character; perhaps, worse, as i had got rid of the english prize-crew, when the frenchman captured us in his turn, and prevented our obtaining shelter and a new crew in france." colonel warbler listened with cold indifference. not a line would he write against the french, belonging to a very extensive school of disseminators of news who fancy it is a part of their high vocation to tell just as much, or just as little, of any transaction, as may happen to suit their own purposes. i pressed the injuries i had received from the french, on my visitor, so much the more warmly, on account of the reluctance he manifested to publish it; but all to no purpose. next morning the republican freeman contained just such an account of the affair as comported with the consistency of that independent and manly journal; not a word being said about the french privateer, while the account of the proceedings of the english frigate was embellished with sundry facts and epithets that must have been obtained from colonel warbler's general stock in trade, as it was certainly not derived from me. as soon as i got rid of this gentleman, which was not long after he discovered my desire to press the delinquency of the french on his notice, marble and i left the house, on the original design of strolling up broadway, and of looking at the changes produced by time. we had actually got a square, when i felt some one touch my elbow; turning, i found it was an utter stranger with a very eager, wonder-mongering sort of a countenance, and who was a good deal out of breath with running. "your pardon, sir; the bar-tender of the house where you lodge, tells me you are captain wallingford." i bowed an assent, foreseeing another application for _facts_. "well, sir. i hope you'll excuse the liberty i am taking, on account of its object. i represent the public, which is ever anxious to obtain the earliest information on all matters of general concernment, and i feel emboldened by duty, to introduce myself--colonel positive of the federal truth teller, a journal that your honoured father once did us the favour to take--we have this moment heard of the atrocities committed on you, captain wallingford, by 'a brigand of a french piratical, picarooning, plundering vagabond,'" reading from what i dare say was another caption, prepared for the other side of the question; "a fresh instance of gallic aggression, and republican, jacobinical insolence; atrocities that are of a character to awaken the indignation of every right-thinking american, and which can only find abettors among that portion of the community, which, possessing nothing, is never slow to sympathize in the success of this robber, though it be at the expense of american rights, and american prosperity." as soon as col. positive had read this much, he stopped to take breath, looking at me, as if expecting some exclamations of admiration and delight. "i have suffered by means of what i conceive to be a perfectly unauthorized act of a french privateer, col. positive," i replied; "but this wrong would not have been done me, had i not suffered previously by what i conceive to be an equally unjustifiable act of the english frigate, the speedy, commanded by captain lord harry dermond, a son of the irish marquis of thole." "bless me, sir, this is very extraordinary! an english frigate, did you say? it is very unusual for the vessels of that just nation ever to be guilty of an aggression, particularly as our common language, common descent, saxon ancestors, and saxon english, and all that sort of thing, you know, operate against it; whereas, sorry i am to say, each new arrival brings us some fresh instance of the atrocities of the myrmidons of this upstart emperor of the french; a man, sir, whose deeds, sir, have never been paralleled since the day of nero, caligula, and all the other tyrants of antiquity. if you will favour me, captain wallingford, with a few of the particulars of this last atrocity of bonaparte, i promise you it shall be circulated far and near, and that in a way to defy the malignant and corrupt perversions of any man, or set of men." i had the cruelty to refuse compliance. it made no difference, however; for, next day, the federal truth teller had an account of the matter, that was probably about as accurate as if i had related all the events myself, and which was also about as true as most of the jeremiads of the journals that are intended for brilliant effect. it was read with avidity by all the federalists of america; while its counterpart in the republican freeman, passed, _pari passu_, through all the democratic papers, and was devoured, with a similar appetite, by the whole of that side of the question. this distinction, i afterwards ascertained, was made by nearly the whole country. if a federalist was my auditor, he would listen all day to that part of my story which related to the capture by the french privateer; while it was _vice versâ_ with the democrats. most of the merchants being federalists, and the english having so much more connection with my narrative than the french, i soon found i was making myself exceedingly unpopular by speaking on the subject at all; nor was it long before a story got in circulation, that i was nothing but a runaway english deserter myself--i, the fifth miles of my name, at clawbonny! as for marble, men were ready to swear he had robbed his captain, and got off from an english two-decker only four years before. it is unnecessary to tell people of the world the manner in which stories to the prejudice of an unpopular man are fabricated, and with what industry they are circulated; so i shall leave the reader to imagine what would have been our fate, had we not possessed the prudence to cease dwelling on our wrongs. instead of thinking of appealing to the authorities of my country for redress, i felt myself fortunate in having the whole affair forgotten, as soon as possible, leaving me some small portion of character. i confess, while returning home, i had sometimes fancied i might be protected by the country of which i was a native, for which i had fought, and to which i paid taxes; but i was only three-and-twenty, and did not then understand the workings of laws, particularly in a state of society that submits to have its most important interests under foreign control. had i received a wrong from only a frenchman, or an englishman, i should have fared a little better, in appearance, at least, though my money was irretrievably gone; for one political party, or the other, as the case might have been, would have held me up to _ex parte_ sympathy, so long as it suited its purposes, or until the novelty of some new case offered an inducement to supplant me. but i had been wronged by both belligerents; and it was soon agreed, by mutual consent, to drop the whole subject. as for redress or compensation, i was never fool enough to seek it. on the contrary, finding how unpopular it made a man among the merchants, to _prove_ anything against great britain, just at that moment, i was wisely silent, thus succeeding in saving my character, which would otherwise have followed my property, as the shortest method of making a troublesome declaimer hold his tongue. most young persons will doubtless hesitate to believe that such a state of things could ever have existed in a nation calling itself independent; but, in the first place, it must be remembered, that the passions of factions never leave their followers independent of their artifices and designs; and, in the next place, all who knew the state of this country in , must admit it was not independent in mind of either england or france. facts precede thought in everything among us; and public opinion was as much in arrears of the circumstances of the country, then, as--as--to what shall i liken it?--why, as it is to-day. i know no better or truer parallel. i make no doubt that the same things would be acted over again, were similar wrongs to be committed by the same powerful belligerents. marble was ludicrously enraged at these little instances of the want of true nationality in his countrymen. he was not a man to be bullied into holding his tongue; and, for years afterwards, he expressed his opinions on the subject of an american's losing his ship and cargo, as i had lost mine, without even a hope of redress, with a freedom that did more credit to his sense of right, than to his prudence. as for myself, as has just been said, i never even attempted to procure justice. i knew its utter hopelessness; and the dawn and her cargo went with the hundreds of other ships and cargoes, that were sunk in the political void created by the declaration of war, in . this is an unpleasant subject to me. i could gladly have passed it over, for it proves that the political association of this country failed in one of the greatest ends of all such associations;--but nothing is ever gained by suppressing truth, on such a matter. let those who read reflect on the past: it may possibly have a tendency to render the future more secure, giving to the american citizen in reality, some of those rights which it so much accords with our habits to boast of his possessing. if concealment did any good, i would gladly be silent; but diseases in the body politic require a bold and manly treatment, even more than those in the physical system. i remember the tone of the presses of the trading towns of this country on the subject of the late french treaty,--one of the most flagitious instances of contempt, added to wrong, of which history supplies an instance, and will own i do not feel much encouraged to hope for any great improvement. after we got rid of colonel no. , marble and i continued our walk. we passed several persons of my acquaintance, but not one of them recognised me in my present attire. i was not sorry to see this, as i was wearied of my story, and could gladly remain in a species of incognito, for a few days. but, new york was comparatively a small town in , and everybody knew almost everybody's face who was anybody. there was little real hope, therefore, of my escaping recognition for any great length of time. we strolled up above st. paul's, then a high quarter of the town, and where a few houses had been erected in what was then a new and enlarged style. on the stoop of one of these patrician residences--to use a word that has since come much into use--i saw a fashionably pressed man, standing, picking his teeth, with the air of its master. i had nearly passed this person, when an exclamation from him, and his calling my mate by name, caused me to stop. it was rupert! "marble, my dear fellow, why, how fare you?" said our old ship-mate, descending the steps, with an indolent, half-cordial, half-condescending manner; extending his hand at the same time, which moses received and shook heartily.--"the sight of you reminds me of old times, and salt water!" "mr. hardinge," answered my mate, who knew nothing of rupert's defects, beyond his want of aptitude for the sea, "i'm heartily glad to fall in with you. do your father and handsome sister live here?" "not they, old moses;" answered rupert, still without casting his eyes on me. "this is my own house, in which i shall be very happy to see you, and to make you acquainted with my wife, who is also an old acquaintance of yours--miss emily merton that was--the daughter of gen. merton, of the _british_ army." "blast the british army! and blast the british navy, too!" cried marble, with more feeling than manners. "but for the last, our old friend miles, here, would now be a rich man." "miles!" rupert repeated, with an astonishment that had more nature in it than had been usual with him of late years. "this is true, then, and you have not been lost at sea, wallingford?" "i am living, as you may see, mr. hardinge, and glad of this opportunity to inquire after your father and sister?" "both are well, i thank you: the old gentleman, in particular, will be delighted to see you. he has felt your misfortunes keenly, and did all he could to avert the sad affair about clawbonny. you know he could as well raise a million, as raise five or ten thousand dollars; and poor lucy is still a minor, and can only touch her income, the savings of which were insufficient, just then. we did all we could, i can assure you, wallingford; but i was about commencing house-keeping, and was in want of cash at the moment,--and you know how it is under such circumstances. poor clawbonny! i was exceedingly sorry when i heard of it; though they say this mr. daggett, your successor, is going to do wonders with it,--a capitalist, they tell me, and able to carry out all his plans." "i am glad clawbonny has fallen into good hands, since it has passed out of mine. good evening, mr. hardinge, i shall take an early opportunity to find your father, and to learn the particulars." "yes; he'll be exceedingly glad to see you, wallingford; and i'm sure it will always afford me pleasure to aid you, in any way i can. i fear it must be very low water with you?" "if having nothing to meet a balance of some twenty or thirty thousand dollars of unpaid debt is what you call low water, the tide is out of my pocket, certainly. but, i shall not despair; i am young, and have a noble, manly profession." "yes, i dare say, you'll do remarkably well, wallingford," rupert answered, in a patronizing manner. "you were always an enterprising fellow; and one need have no great concern for _you_. it would hardly be delicate to ask you to see mrs. hardinge, just as you are--not but what you appear uncommonly well in your round-about, but i know precisely how it is with young men when there are ladies in the case; and emily _is_ a little over-refined, perhaps." "yet, mrs. hardinge has seen me often in a round-about, and passed hours in my company, when i have been dressed just as i am at this moment." "ay, at sea. one gets used to everything at sea. good evening; i'll bear you in mind, wallingford, and may do something for you. i am intimate with the heads of all the principal mercantile houses, and shall bear you in mind, certainly. good evening, wallingford.--a word with you, marble, before we part." i smiled bitterly--and walked proudly from before rupert's door. little did i then know that lucy was seated within thirty feet of me, listening to andrew drewett's conversation and humour. of the mood in which she was listening, i shall have occasion to speak presently. as for marble, when he overtook me, i was informed that rupert had stopped him in order to ascertain our address;--a piece of condescension for which i had not the grace to be thankful. chapter xxvii. "the weary sun hath made a golden set, and, by the bright track of his fiery car, gives token of a goodly day to-morrow." shakspeare. i was quite as much surprised at my own manner towards rupert, as he could be himself. no doubt he ascribed it to my fallen fortune, for, at the commencement of the interview, he was a good deal confused, and his confidence rose in proportion as he fancied mine was lessened. the moderation i manifested, however, was altogether owing to lucy, whose influence on my feelings never ceased. as for marble, he thought all was right, and was very decided in his approval of rupert's behaviour and appearance. "'tisn't every man that _can_ make a seaman, miles," he said, "for it's a gift that comes nat'rally, like singing, or rope-dancing. i dare say rupert will do very well ashore, in the gentleman line, though he's no great catch afloat, as all will admit who ever sailed with him. the lad don't want for stuff; but it's shore stuff, a'ter all; and that will never pass muster in blue water. i dare say, now, this imperor-gineral, bonaparte, would make a bloody poor shipmaster, if a body was to try him." i made no answer, and we strolled on until dark. then we returned to our lodgings, and turned-in. next morning we breakfasted with the rest, and i was about to set out in search of a lawyer, to take his opinion on the subject of my insurance, though i had little or no hope of recovering anything, when i was told two gentlemen wished to see me. at first sight, i fancied that more editors were in quest of news; but we were no sooner alone together, than one of these persons let me into the secret of his errand, in a way that was well enough as respects the _suaviter in modo_, while it could not be said to be in the least deficient in the _fortiter in re_. "i am sorry to say, capt. wallingford," this person commenced "that i have a writ to arrest you, for a sum that will require very respectable bail--no less than sixty thousand dollars." "well done, my upright cousin," i muttered; "this is losing no time, certainly. i owe half that money, i admit, sir, if my farm only sold for five thousand dollars, as i hear, and i suppose i am arrested for the penalty of my bond. but, at whose suit am i thus pursued?" here, the second person announced himself as the attorney of the plaintiff, excusing his presence on the pretence that he hoped to be of service in amicably arranging the affair. "my client is mr. thomas daggett, of clawbonny, ulster county, who holds your bonds as the administrator of the estate of the late john wallingford, deceased, a gentleman to whom i believe you were related." "the _late_ john wallingford! is my cousin then dead?" "he departed this life eight months since, dying quite unexpectedly. letters of administration have been granted to mr. daggett, who is a son of his mother's sister, and a principal heir, the party dying intestate. it is a great pity that the law excludes you from the succession, being as you are of the name." "my kinsman gave me reason to think i _was_ to be his heir, as it was understood he was to be mine. my will in his favour was left in his hands." "we are aware of that, sir, and your death being supposed, for a considerable period, it was thought your personals would descend to us, in part, by devise, which might have prevented the necessity of taking the unpleasant step to which we are now driven. the question was, which died first, you, or your cousin, and that fact, you will easily understand, we had no means of establishing. as it is, the duty of the administrator compels him to proceed, with as little delay as possible." "i have no alternative, then, but to go to gaol. i know not the person on earth, i can or could ask to become my bail for a sum as large as even that i justly owe, to say nothing of the penalty of the bond,'" "i am very sorry to hear this, captain wallingford," mr. meekly, the attorney, very civilly replied. "we will walk together, leaving the officer to follow. perhaps the matter may be arranged amicably." "with all my heart, sir. but, before quitting this house, i will discharge my bill, and communicate my position to a couple of friends, who are waiting in the passage." neb was one of these friends: for i felt i was fast getting into a condition which rendered the friendship of even my slaves of importance to me. that worthy fellow and marble joined us on a signal from me, when i simply let them into the secret of my affairs. "arrested!" said moses, eyeing the sheriff's officer with sovereign contempt; though he was a sturdy fellow, and one who had every disposition to do his duty. "arrested! why, miles, you can handle both these chaps, yourself; and, with neb's and my assistance, could work 'em up into spun-yarn without a winch!" "that may be true, moses: but i cannot handle the law, even with your powerful aid; nor should i wish to, if i could. i am bound to gaol, my friends,--having no bail,--so----" "bail! why _i_'ll be your bail; and, if you want two, there's neb." "i fancy the gentleman don't much understand being taken on a writ," the attorney simpered. "i not understand it! that's a bloody poor guess of your'n, my friend.--when we had the scrape with the hamburghers, in philadelphy,--it's now coming thirty years,--" "never mind all that just now, moses. i wish you to pay my bill here; give neb the small bag of my clothes to bring up to the gaol, and keep my other effects under your own care. of course you will come to see me, by-and bye: but i now _order_ you not to follow us." i then left the house, with a rapidity that gave the officer some uneasiness, i believe. once in the street, however, my pace became more moderate; and dropping alongside of the attorney, we fell into discourse on the subject of the arrangement. "to be frank with you, captain wallingford," said meekly, "my client never expects to recover the full amount of his demand: it being understood your personals are now limited to certain jewelry; the stock of your late farm; a few negroes; a sloop; some furniture, &c. no, sir, we do not expect to obtain the whole of our demand. certain securities in our hands will extinguish much of it, though a large balance will remain." "as mr. daggett has already got real estate richly worth five-and-thirty thousand dollars, and which brings a clear two thousand a-year,--to say nothing of its advantages as a residence,--besides bonds and mortgages for twenty odd thousand more, i am fully sensible of his moderation. the forty thousand dollars i owed my cousin will be amply repaid to his heirs, though i pass my life in jail." "you misapprehend the affair, entirely. mr. daggett does not hold clawbonny as administrator at all; but as a purchaser under a mortgage sale. he did not buy it himself, of course; but has received a deed from a nephew of his, who was a _bond fide_ bidder. the amount bid,--five thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars,--is duly endorsed on your bond, and you have credit for it. if no one bid higher, the property had to go." "yes, sir: i very well understand how property goes, in the absence of the debtor, at forced sales. but what is the nature of the proposition you intend to make?" "mr. daggett understands you possess some very valuable pearls, that are supposed to be worth one thousand dollars, with a good deal of plate, &c., &c. now he proposes that you assign to the estate he represents all your personals at an appraisal, when he will credit you with the amount, and suspend proceedings for the balance. in a word--give you time." "and what idea has mr. daggett of the sum i should thus receive?" "he is disposed to be liberal, and thinks you might get credit for about four thousand dollars." "my personal property, including the pearls of which you speak, quite a thousand dollars worth of plate, even at the price of old silver, the sloop, the stock, horses, carriages, farming utensils, and without counting the slaves, all of whom i intend to set free, if the law will allow it, must nearly or quite double that sum, sir. unless mr. daggett is disposed to raise his views of the value of my effects, i should prefer to remain in custody, and see what i can do by private sale. as he will receive every cent of the securities received from my sister's estate, quite $ , , and now possesses more than $ , from clawbonny, the balance i shall really owe cannot exceed $ , ." "were you to confess judgment, sir, and leave the property under execution--" "i'll do nothing of the sort, mr. meekly--on that subject my mind is made up. one forced sale is quite enough for a novice." "we shall soon reach the jail, sir--perhaps its sight may--" "it will not, sir. whenever mr. daggett shall be disposed to receive my property at a just valuation, i may be ready to arrange the matter with him, for i have no disposition to deny the debt, or to avoid its payment; but, as he has adopted his own mode of proceeding, i am ready to abide by it. good morning, mr. meekly; i see no use in your accompanying me any further." i was thus decided, because i saw i had to deal with an extortioner. a rogue himself, mr. daggett was afraid i might get rid of my personal property before he could issue an execution by the regular mode; and he anticipated frightening or constraining me into an arrangement. it would be my business to disappoint him; and i assumed an air of confidence that soon shook off my companion. a few minutes later, the key of the old stone debtor's jail was turned upon me. i had a little money, and reluctant to be shut up with the company i found in the building, i succeeded in procuring a small, ill-furnished room, to myself. these preliminaries were hardly settled, when neb was admitted with the bag. the poor fellow had been in tears; for he not only felt for me, but he felt for the disgrace and misfortune which had alighted on the whole clawbonny stock. he had yet to learn that the place itself was gone, and i shrank from telling him the fact; for, to his simple mind, it would be like forcing body and soul asunder. all the negroes considered themselves as a part of clawbonny, and a separation must have appeared in their eyes like some natural convulsion. neb brought me a letter. it was sealed with wax, and bore the impression of the hardinge arms. there was also an envelop, and the address had been written by rupert. in short, everything about this letter denoted ease, fashion, fastidiousness, and the observance of forms. i lost no time in reading the contents, which i copy, verbatim. "_broadway, wednesday morning._ "dear wallingford, "it has just occurred to me that the enclosed may be of service to you; and i reproach myself for not having bethought me of your probable necessities when i saw you. i regret it is not in my power to ask you to dine with me, _en famille_, to-day; but mrs. hardinge has company, and we are engaged out every other day this week. i shall fall in with you again, some day, however, when i hope to be less engaged. lucy has just heard of your safety and arrival, and has gone to write a note to my father, who will be glad to learn you are still in the land of the living. the general, who lives with us, desires to be mentioned, and hopes when he returns to england, it may be as your passenger. adieu, dear wallingford; i shall never forget our boyish pranks, which, i dare say, sometimes cause you to smile. "your's, &c. "rupert hardinge." this letter contained a bank-note for twenty dollars! yes, the man to whom i had given twenty thousand dollars, sent me, in my distress, this generous donation, to relieve my wants. i need hardly say, i sent the bank-note back to him, by the hands of neb, on the instant, with a cold note of acknowledgment. i had no occasion for _his_ charity, at least. i passed a most uncomfortable hour alone, after neb was gone. then a turnkey came to inform me that a gentleman and lady--a clergyman, he believed--were in the private parlour, and wished to see me. it was doubtless mr. hardinge--_could_ his companion be lucy? i was too anxious, too eager, to lose any time, and, rushing toward the room, was at once admitted. there they were--lucy and her father. neb had seen chloe, in calling at rupert's door--had heard much and told much. mr. hardinge was on the point of going in quest of me; but, learning where i was, he had barely given his daughter time to put on a hat and shawl, and conducting her across the park, brought her himself to visit me in prison. i saw, at a glance, that lucy was dreadfully agitated; that she was pale, though still handsomer than ever; and that she was lucy herself, in character, as in person. "miles, my dear, dear boy!" cried the good old divine, folding me in his arms, "for this mercy, may god alone receive the praise! everybody gave you up, but lucy and myself, and we could not, _would_ not believe you, too, were lost to us for ever!" as my former guardian still clasped me to his bosom, as if i still remained a child, i could perceive that dear lucy was weeping as if ready to break her heart. then she looked up, and tried to smile; though i could see the effort was made solely on my account. i caught her extended hand, and kissed it over and over again. the dear, dear girl trembled in every fibre of her body. "all my misfortunes are forgotten," i cried, "in finding you thus, in finding you unchanged, in finding you still lucy hardinge!" i scarce knew what i was uttering, though i saw lucy's face was covered with blushes, and that a smile, which i found of inexplicable signification, now rose readily enough to her beautiful mouth. on the whole, i think there must have been some eight or ten minutes, during which neither of the three knew particularly well what was said or done. lucy was both smiles and tears; though keen anxiety to know what had occurred, and how i came to be in gaol, was strongly expressed in her countenance, as well as in some of her words. as for myself, i was beside myself, and acted like a fool. after a time, we were all seated, when i narrated the manner in which i had lost my ship, and the reason why clawbonny had been sold, and why i supposed i was thus arrested. "i am glad my cousin, john wallingford, had no concern with these transactions; though i deeply regret the reason why my bond has passed into other hands. it would have rendered my misfortunes still harder to be borne, could i suppose that a kinsman had laid so deep a plot to ruin me, under the semblance of kindness. his death, however, sets that point at rest." "i do not like his talking of making you his heir, and neglecting to do it," rejoined mr. hardinge. "men should never promise, and forget to redeem their words. it has a suspicious look." lucy had not spoken the whole time i was relating my story. her serene eye beamed on me in a way to betray the interest she felt; but not a syllable escaped her until her father had made the observation just given. "it is of no moment, now," she then said, "what may have been the motive of mr. john wallingford. with miles, i thought him a rough, but an honest man; but honest men may be pardoned for not foreseeing their own sudden deaths. the question, now, my dear father, is, how miles can be got out of this wretched place, in the shortest possible time." "ay, miles, my dear boy: heaven forbid you should sleep in such a spot. how shall we go to work?" "i am afraid, sir, i shall sleep many nights here. the debt i really owe is about thirteen thousand dollars; and the writ, i believe, is issued for the entire penalty of the bond. as the motive for arresting me is, probably, to drive me into a compromise, by confessing judgment, and giving up my personal property to be sacrificed, as clawbonny has been, it is not probable that bail for a less amount than the law allows the plaintiff to claim, will be received. i do not know the man who will become surety for me in that amount." "well, i know two.--rupert and myself." the idea of receiving such a favour from rupert was particularly unpleasant to me; and i saw by the expression of lucy's face that she entered into my feelings. "i am afraid, sir," i said, after thanking mr. hardinge by a warm pressure of the hand, "that _you_ are not rich enough. the deputy sheriff has told me he has instructions to be rigid about the bail; and i apprehend neither you, nor rupert, can swear he is worth fifty thousand dollars." "bless me!--bless me! is that really necessary, miles?" "if required, i believe the law insists on security to the amount of the judgment claimed. rupert lives largely, i see, and yet i doubt if he would be willing to swear to that." mr. hardinge's face became very sorrowful; and he paused a moment before answering. "i am not in rupert's secrets, neither is lucy," he then said. "i hope all is right: though the thought that he might possibly play, has sometimes crossed my anxious mind. he is married to miss merton; has purchased and furnished a broadway house, and is living at a large rate. when i spoke to him on the subject, he asked me if i thought 'english ladies of condition gave empty hands in marriage?' i don't know how it is, my dear miles, but i always fancied that the mertons had nothing but the colonel's salary to live on." "_major_ merton," i answered, laying an emphasis on the brevet rank the worthy individual actually possessed, "_major_ merton has told me as much as this, himself." mr. hardinge actually groaned, and i saw that lucy turned pale as death. the former had no knowledge of the true character of his son; but he had all the apprehensions that a father would naturally feel under such circumstances. i saw the necessity--nay, the humanity, of relieving both. "you know me too well, my dear guardian--excellent lucy--to think that i would deliberately deceive either of you. what i now tell you, is to prevent rupert from being too harshly judged. i _know_ whence rupert derived a large sum of money, previously to my sailing. it was legally obtained, and is, or was, rightfully his. i do not say it was large enough long to maintain him in the style in which he lives; but it can so maintain him a few years. you need fear neither cards, nor positive dishonesty. rupert has no disposition for either: he dislikes the first, and is too prudent for the last." "god be thanked for this!" the divine exclaimed devoutly. "i had really frightened myself, with my own folly. so, so, master rupert; you have been making money and holding your peace! well, i like his modesty; rupert _is_ clever, miles, and i trust will one day take an honourable station at the bar. his marriage has been a little too early, for one of his means, perhaps; but i feel encouraged now that i find he can make money honourably, and legally, and justly." i had said nothing of the honourable, or the just; but what weakness will not parental affection encourage? as for lucy, her countenance told me she suspected the truth. never before had i seen on those usually placid, and always lovely features, an expression of so much humiliation. for a single instant, it almost amounted to anguish. recovering her self-possession, however, she was the first to turn the discourse to its proper channel. "all this time, we are forgetting miles," she said. "it would seem, father, that he thinks neither you, nor rupert, rich enough to be his bail--can _i_ be of any use, in this way?" lucy spoke firmly, and in the manner of one who was beginning to be accustomed to consider herself of some account in the way of money; but, a bright flush suffused her face, as she thus seemed to make herself of more moment than was her wont--to pass out of her sex, as it might be. "a thousand thanks, dearest lucy, for the offer," i said, eagerly, "but _could_ you become my bail, i certainly would not permit it. it is enough that you come to visit me here, without further connecting your name with my debts. a minor, however, cannot become security. mr. daggett will keep me here a few weeks; when he finds i am employing agents to sell my effects, i fancy he is sufficiently a rogue himself to apprehend the money will get beyond the reach of his execution, and he will offer to compromise. once at large, i can always go to sea; if not as master, at least as a mate." "had we been as proud as yourself, miles, clawbonny would have been less dear to us." "it is not pride, but propriety, lucy, to prevent you from doing a thing for which there is no necessity, and which might subject you to impertinent observations. no, i'll set about disposing of my personal property at once; that will soon bring mr. daggett to some sense of decency." "if a minor cannot be received as bail, there is no more to be said," lucy answered; "else would i prove to you, miles, that i can be as obstinate as you are yourself. at all events, i can be a purchaser of jewels, if wanting a few months of my majority; fortunately, i have nearly a year's income on hand. you see, miles,"--lucy again blushed brightly, though she smiled--"what an accountant i am getting to be--but, i can commence at once by purchasing your pearls. they are already in my possession for safe keeping, and many is the covetous glance they have received from me. those precious pearls! i think you valued them at three thousand dollars, miles," lucy continued, "and my father will at once pay you that sum on my behalf. then send for the lawyer of your persecutor, for i can call him nothing else, and offer to pay that much on his demand provided he will accept my father as bail. if he be the son of being you fancy him, and so his acts i think prove him to be, he will be glad to accept the offer." i was delighted at the readiness of resources this proved in lucy, nor was the project in the least unlikely to succeed. could i get four or five thousand dollars together, i had no doubt daggett would accept mr. hardinge for bail, as it was only as surety for my appearance in court. that was then required, and no one could really think i would abscond and leave my old guardian in the lurch. still, i could not think of thus robbing lucy. left to her own sense of propriety, i well knew she would never dream of investing so large a sum as the pearls were really worth, in ornaments for her person; and the pearls were worth but little more than half the sum she had named. "this will not do," i answered, expressing my gratitude with my eyes, "and no more need be said about it. i cannot rob you, dearest lucy, because you are so ready to submit to be robbed. leave me here a few days, and mr. meekly will come to volunteer a plan of setting me free." "i have it!" exclaimed mr. hardinge, jumping up and seizing his hat. "lucy, i'll be back in fifteen minutes; then we'll bear miles off in triumph, to your own house. yes, yes, the scheme cannot fail, with a lawyer of any respectability." "may i know what it is, dear papa?" lucy asked, glancing expressively towards me. "why, it's just this. i'll go and find the bishop, who'll do anything to oblige me, and he and i'll go, in company, to this mr. meekly's office, and pledge our words as divines, that miles shall appear in court, as the under-sheriff told me would be required, when all will be settled to our heart's content. on my way to the bishop's, i'll just stop in at richard harrison's office, and take his opinion in the matter." "well, sir, the notion of seeing richard harrison is a good one. he may suggest something in the way of practice that will be useful to us. if you could step across the way, and get him to pay me a short visit, i should be infinitely obliged to you. i was about to take his advice on the subject of my insurance when arrested, and i wish that point disposed of." mr. hardinge listened attentively, and then he left the room, telling lucy he would be back in a few minutes. it might have been an awkward situation for most young ladies, thus to be left alone with a prisoner in gaol; but lucy was so much accustomed to the intimacy that bound us together, i do not think its peculiarities struck her at the moment. when her father went out of the room, she was in deep thought, nor did she appear to rouse herself from it, until he had been gone some little time. lucy was seated, but i had risen to see mr. hardinge to the door of the room, and was walking slowly back and forth. the dear girl arose, came to me, took one of my hands in both her own, and looked anxiously into my face, for some little time, ere she spoke. "miles," she said, "i will say no more of the pearls, no more of my own money, and will prevent all allusion to rupert's appearing in your behalf, if you will accept the bail i can provide for you. i know a gentleman who will accept my word as his surety, who is rich enough to be received, and who is under a deep obligation to you, for i have often heard him say as much. you may not know how ready he will be to oblige you, but i do; and i now ask you to give me your word; you will not refuse his assistance, even though he should be an utter stranger to you?" "how is it possible, lucy, that you can have any knowledge of such a person?" "oh! you cannot imagine what a woman of business i am becoming! you would not refuse me for your bail, were i a man and of age, miles?" "certainly not--feeling as i do towards you, lucy, i would sooner receive such a favour from you, than from any human being. but you are not a man, thank god, nor of age." "then promise me the small favour of accepting this service from the person i shall send to you. it would break all our hearts to think you were remaining here in gaol, while we are living in luxury. i will not relinquish your hand, till you give me a promise." "that look is sufficient, lucy; i promise all you can ask." so intense had the feelings of the dear girl become, that she burst into tears, the moment her mind was relieved, and covered her face with both hands. it was but a passing burst of feeling, and a radiant smile soon chased every trace of sorrow from her sweet, sweet countenance. "now, miles, i am certain we shall soon have you out of this horrid place," she cried; "and before the execution they tell us of, can issue, as they call it, we shall have time to make some proper arrangement for you. i shall be of age, by that time; and i can at least become your creditor, instead of that odious mr. daggett. you would not hesitate to owe me money, miles, in preference to him?" "dearest lucy, there is nothing i would not be willing to owe to you, and that in preference to any other living creature, not even excepting your revered and beloved father." lucy looked deeply gratified; and i saw another of those inexplicable smiles lurking around her lovely mouth, which almost tempted me to demand an explanation of its meaning. ere there was time for this, however, her countenance became very, very sad, and she turned her tearful eyes toward me. "miles, i fear i understood your allusion, when you spoke of rupert's money," she said. "i feared poor, sainted grace would do this; and _i_ knew you would strip yourself of every dollar to comply with her wishes. i wonder the idea never occurred to me before; but it is so hard to think ill of a brother! i ask no questions, for i see you are determined not to answer them--perhaps have given a pledge to your sister to that effect: but we cannot live under this disgrace; and the day i am twenty-one, this grievous, grievous wrong must be repaired. i know that grace's fortune had accumulated to more than twenty thousand dollars; and that is a sum sufficient to pay all you owe, and to leave you enough to begin the world anew." "even were what you fancy true, do you think i would consent to rob _you_, to pay rupert's debts?" "talk not of robbery. i could not exist under the degradation of thinking any of us had your money, while debt and imprisonment thus hung over you. there is but one thing that can possibly prevent my paying you back grace's fortune, the day i am of age, as you will see, miles." again that inexplicable smile passed over lucy's face, and i was resolved to ask its meaning, when the approaching footstep of mr. hardinge prevented it. "mr. harrison is not in," cried the divine, as he entered the room; "but i left a note for him, telling him that his old acquaintance, captain wallingford, had pressing need of his services. he has gone to greenwich, to his country place, but will be back in the course of the day, and i have desired he will come to wall street, the instant he can. i would not blazon your misfortunes, miles; but the moment he arrives, you shall hear from him. he is an old school-fellow of mine, and will be prompt to oblige me. now, miss lucy, i am about to release you from prison. i saw a certain mr. drewett walking in the direction of wall-street, and had the charity to tell him you would be at home in ten minutes." lucy arose with an alacrity i could hardly forgive. the colour deepened on her face, and i thought she even hurried her father away, in a manner that was scarcely sufficiently reserved. ere they left the room, however, the dear girl took an opportunity to say, in a low voice, "remember, miles, i hold you strictly to your promise: in one hour, you shall be free." chapter xxviii. "she half-enclosed me in her arms, she pressed me with a meek embrace; and bending back her head, looked up and gazed upon my face." coleridge. i saw no one for the next two hours. a window of the parlour, where i was permitted to remain, overlooked the _soi-disant_ park--or rather _manhattan_-disant--and it was not long before i caught a glimpse of my mate and neb, lying off and on, or blockading the jail, lest i should be secretly carried to parts unknown, or some other great evil should approach me from without. what these two honest and affectionate fellows meant by thus maintaining their post, i did not know, it is true; but such was my conjecture. at length neb disappeared, and was absent an hour. when he retained, he had a coil of rope over his shoulder, when the two took a station at a safe distance from my prison, and began to measure off fathoms, to cut, knot and splice. i was amused with their diligence, which made no abatement until it was interrupted by myself. of the manner in which that was effected i shall have occasion to speak presently. about two hours after i was left by lucy and her father, a keeper came to announce another visitor. i was expecting my own attorney or mr. harrison; but the reader will judge of my surprise when andrew drewett entered the room. he was accompanied by the jailer, who held a letter in his hand, and who astounded me by saying-- "captain wallingford, i have instructions here to open the door for you--bail has been entered." the jailer disappeared. "and this i owe to you, mr. drewett!" "i wish i could say as much, with all my heart, my dear sir," andrew replied, taking my hand, and giving it a warm, cordial shake; "but it would not be strictly true. after saving my life, i should not have suffered you to lie in jail for want of so small a favour as giving bail for your appearance in court, certainly; but would, and will, gladly be your special bail, at the proper time. let the credit fall, however, only where it is due. miss hardinge asked me to obtain your release, and her wishes are second only to my own gratitude." this was said in a frank, manly manner; and i wondered i had never viewed andrew drewett in a light so favourable before. he had improved in person, bore himself like a gentleman i now thought, and was every way a pleasing, well-mannered, well-dressed, and intelligent-looking young man. i could do all justice to him but pardon him lucy's preference. "lucy can never forget our childish intimacy," i said, a little confused. "she left me, declaring an intention to do something of the sort; though i confess i was not exactly prepared for this. you are a man to be envied, mr. drewett, if any man on earth is!" andrew looked embarrassed. he glanced at me, coloured, turned his look out at the window, then, by a vast effort, seemed to regain his self-command. "i believe i understand you, wallingford," he said. "you mean, in being engaged to lucy hardinge?" "i can mean nothing else--all i hear--all i have seen--this last act, in particular, tells me as much." "all have then told you wrong. i am not so fortunate as to possess the affections of miss hardinge; and no man will gain her hand who does not first obtain her heart; ay, and her whole heart, too." i was astounded! what! lucy not engaged to drewett; not loving him, by his own admission; not likely to love him! i believe andrew had no difficulty in comprehending my feelings in part, for he seemed disposed to continue the subject; and, what was infinitely to his credit, to continue it in a way that should leave no unpleasant uncertainty hanging about the real position of the dear girl. "it is only quite lately," he said, "that i have seen the great injustice that i and my family have unconsciously committed towards miss hardinge. as you are an old--a _very_ old friend of hers, i will be explicit with you, and endeavour, in some small degree, to excuse myself; though i feel that it can never be done fully. you tell me, that you have heard i was engaged to miss hardinge?" "unquestionably: i think it was the opinion of her own father; though he must have believed the promise conditional, as lucy never would marry without his approbation." "mr. hardinge has then been strangely misled. it is true, mr. wallingford, that i have long admired miss hardinge, and that i offered myself years ago. i was refused from the first. but, lucy had the frankness to own that she was free to dispose of her hand; and i persevered contrary to her advice, her wishes, and i may say her entreaties. i think she esteems me; and i know she has a strong regard for my mother, who is almost as fond of her as i am myself. this esteem and regard i hoped might ripen into love, and my presumption has brought its own punishment, it is now about six months--i remember it was shortly after we heard of your probable loss--that i had a final conversation with her on the subject, when i became convinced my prospects were hopeless. since that time, i have endeavoured to conquer my passion; for love unrequited, i suppose you know, will not last for ever; and i have so far succeeded, as to tell you all this without feeling the pain it would once have cost me. still, i retain the deepest respect for miss hardinge; and a single encouraging look would even now recall me. i am of opinion, however, she intends never to marry. but, let us quit this place, which has no longer any claim on you." i was in a state scarcely to know what. i did. it was comparatively little to me to learn i was free myself, after so unexpectedly learning that lucy was also free. lucy--whom i had for years supposed to be irrevocably engaged; and whom i had continued to love, even against hope andrew drewett, i fancied, had never loved as i did, or he would not have made the speech he did; or, his love for lucy had not been a part of his existence from boyhood, as mine had certainly been. while all these thoughts were passing through my mind, i gave a few directions, took drewett's arm, and hurried out of the gaol. i confess that i respired more freely when i found myself in the open air. my companion took my direction, and i led him to the spot where marble and neb were still at work on their rope. great was their surprise on seeing me at large; and i thought the mate looked a little disappointed, though he comprehended the matter at once, as soon as he saw drewett. "if you had only waited till night, miles," marble said, shaking his head as one menaces, "neb and i would have shown that bloody gaol a seaman's fashion of quitting it. i'm almost sorry the occasion is lost, for it would have done their stomachs good to wake up at two bells, and find their cage empty. i've half a mind to ask you to go back, boy!" "but i've no mind to comply with the request; so do me the favour to have my bag carried back to our lodgings, where i intend to swing my hammock, again, to-night.--mr. drewett, i must hasten to thank her to whom i owe my freedom;--will you accompany me?" andrew excused himself; and receiving my thanks, once more we parted with a hearty shake of the hands. i then hastened towards wall street, and knocked at lucy's door; (there were knockers to good houses in new york, in , a vile nuisance having been since well gotten rid of,) and i knocked at lucy's door, scarce conscious of the manner in which i had got there. it was near the dinner-hour, and the footman was demurring about admitting a sailor-man, who hardly knew what he said, when a little scream from chloe, who happened to see me, soon disposed of my claim for an entrance. "masser mile!--masser mile!--i _so_ grad--dat feller, neb, say you come home--oh! masser mile, now i know dat de rascal at clawbonny get druv' off!" this speech, confident as it was, a little cooled my ardour by reminding me i was a beggar, in the figurative meaning of the word. chloe led the way, however, and i was soon in the drawing-room, and in the presence of the youthful mistress of the house. how gloriously beautiful did lucy then appear! she had dressed for dinner, as usual, but it was in the simplest and neatest manner. her face was radiant with the pleasure of seeing me where i was, and excitement had deepened the colour on her cheeks, which were never pale, except with emotions. as for her eyes, i can only describe _them_ by the homely phrase, that "they danced for joy." "now, miles," she said, holding out both hands to meet me, "_this_ is redeeming your pledge, and behaving as you should. andrew drewett was delighted with an opportunity of doing something for the man who saved his life, and my only fear was of your obstinacy." "after all i have heard from andrew drewett, beloved lucy, you never need fear anything from my obstinacy hereafter. he not only has released my body from prison but he has released my spirits from the weight of a mountain, by honestly confessing you do not love him." the play of roseate light on an autumnal sky at evening, is not more beautiful, than the changing tints that passed over lucy's beautiful face. she did not speak, at first; but so intent, so inquiring was her look, while at the same time, it was so timid and modest, that i scarce needed the question that she finally succeeded in asking. "what _is_ it, you wish to say, miles?" at length came from her in faltering tones. "to ask to be permitted to keep these hands for ever. not one, lucy; one will not satisfy a love like mine, a love that has got to be interwoven with my being, from having formed a part of my very existence from boyhood; yes, i ask for _both_." "you have them both, dear, _dear_ miles, and can keep them as long as you please." even while this was in the course of utterance, the hands were snatched from me to be applied to their owner's face, and the dear girl burst into a flood of tears. i folded her in my arms, seated myself at her side on a sofa, and am not ashamed to say that we wept together. i shall not reveal all that passed during the next quarter of an hour, nor am i quite certain that i could were i to make the attempt, but i well recollect my arm was around lucy's slender waist, at the end of that brief period. what was said was not very coherent, nor do i know that anybody would care to hear, or read it. "why have you so long delayed to tell me this, miles?" lucy at length inquired, a little reproachfully. "you who have had so many opportunities, and might have known how it would have been received! how much misery and suffering it would have saved us both!" "for that which it has caused _you_, dearest, i shall never forgive myself; but as for that _i_ have endured, it is only too well merited. but i thought you loved drewett; everybody said you were to marry him; even your own father believed and told me as much--" "poor, dear papa!--he little knew my heart. one thing, however, he did that would have prevented my ever marrying any one, miles, so long as you lived." "heaven for ever bless him for that, as well as for all his other good deeds? what was it, lucy?' "when we heard of the supposed loss of your ship, he believed it, but i did not. why i did not believe what all around me thought was true, is more than i can explain, unless providence humanely sustained me by hope. but when my father thought you dead, in conversing of all your good qualities, miles,--and he loved you almost as well as his daughter"-- "god bless him, dear old gentleman!--but what did he tell you, lucy?" "you will never learn, if you thus interrupt me, miles," lucy answered, smiling saucily in my face, though she permitted me still to hold both her hands, as if i had taken possession of them literally with an intent to keep them, blushing at the same time as much with happiness, i thought, as with the innate modesty of her nature. "have a little patience, and i will tell you. when my father thought you dead, he told me the manner in which you had confessed to him the preference you felt for me; and _do_ you, _can_ you think, after i was thus put in possession of such a secret, i could listen to andrew drewett, or to any one else?" i shall not reveal what followed this speech; but i may say that, in the course of the next ten minutes, lucy mildly reproached me again for having so long delayed my declaration. "i knew you so well, miles," she continued, smiling--as for blushing, that she did nearly the whole of the remainder of the day--"i know you so well, miles, that i am afraid i should have made the declaration myself, had you not found your tongue. silly fellow! how _could_ you suppose i would ever love any but you?--see here!" she drew the locket i had given her from her dress, and placed it in my hands, still warm from lying near her heart! i had no choice, but to kiss lucy again, or to kiss this locket; and i did both, by way of leaving no further grounds for self-reproach. i say, kiss her again, for, to own the truth, i had already done so many times in that interview. at length, chloe put her head in at the door, having taken the precaution first to give a gentle tap, to inquire if dinner should be served. lucy dined at four, and it was now drawing toward five. "has my father come in?" demanded the young mistress of her attendant. "not yet, miss lucy; but he nebber t'ink much of dinner, miss lucy, ma'am; and masser mile been _so_ long a sailor, dat i t'ink he _must_ be hungry. i hear dat he hab berry hard time, dis v'y'ge, miss lucy--too hard for old masser and missus son!" "ay, you have seen neb, if the truth were told, miss chloe," i cried; "and he has been charming your ear with othello-tales, of his risks and hardships, to make you love him." i cannot say that chloe actually blushed, or, if she did, the spectators were none the wiser for the weakness. but dark as was the skin of this honest-hearted girl, she had most affectionate feelings, and even her features could betray the emotions she entertained. "de feller!" she exclaimed.--"what miss lucy please order? shall 'e cook dish up?" "we will have dinner," lucy answered, with a smile chloe's eyes dancing with a sort of wild delight. "tell john to serve it. mr. hardinge will be home soon, in all probability. we shall be only us three, at table." the mentioning of the table caused me to cast an eye at my dress; and the sight of my mate's attire, neat and in truth becoming as it was, to one who had no reason to be ashamed of his figure, caused me to recollect my poverty, and to feel one twinge at the distance that the world might fancy its own opinions placed between us. as for birth, my own family was too respectable, and my education had been too good, to leave me now any very keen regrets on such a subject, in a state of society like ours; but there was truly a wide chasm between the heiress of mrs. bradfort and a penniless mate of a ship. lucy understood me; and, slipping her arm through mine, she walked into the library, saying archly, as she drew me gently along-- "it is a very easy thing, miles, to get skirts made to your round-about." "no doubt, lucy; but, with whose money? i have been in such a tumult of happiness, as to have forgotten that i am a beggar; that i am not a suitable match for you! had i only clawbonny, i should feel less humiliated. with clawbonny i could feel myself entitled to some portion of the world's consideration." we were in the library by this time. lucy looked at me a moment, intently; and i could see she was pained at my allusion. taking a little key from a cabinet where she kept it, she opened a small drawer, and showed me the identical gold pieces that had once been in my possession, and which i had returned to her, after my first voyage to sea. i perceived that the pearls she had obtained under grace's bequest, as well as those which were my own property, if i could be said to own anything, were kept in the same place. holding the gold in the palm of a little hand that was as soft as velvet and as white as ivory, she said-- "you once took _all_ i had, miles, and this without pretending to more than a brother's love; why should you hesitate to do it again, now you say you wish to become my husband?" "precious creature! i believe you will cure me of even my silly pride." then taking up the pearls, i threw them on her neck, where they hung in a long chain, rivalling the skin with which they came in contact--"there--i have said these pearls should be an offering to my wife, and i now make it; though i scarce know how they are to be kept from the grasp of daggett." lucy kissed the pearls--i knew she did not do it on account of any love for them--and tears came into her eyes. i believe she had long waited to receive this gift, in the precise character in which it was now received. "thank you, dear miles," she said. "you see how freely i accept _your_ gifts; and why should you hesitate to receive mine? as for this mr. daggett, it will be easy enough to get rid of his claim. i shall be of age before he can bring his cause to trial, as i learn; then nothing will be easier than for miles wailingford to pay all his debts; for by that time, all that is now mine will be yours. no--no--this mr. daggett shall not easily rob me of this precious gift." "rupert"--i said, by way of getting her answer. "rupert will not influence my conduct, any further than i shall insist on returning every dollar he has received from you, in the name of our sainted grace. but i hear my father's voice, and speaking to some other person. i had hoped we should dine alone!" the door of the library opened, and mr. hardinge entered, followed by a grave-looking, elderly man, of respectable mien, and a manner that denoted one accustomed to deal with matters of weight. i knew this person at once to be richard harrison, then one of the most distinguished lawyers of america, and the gentleman to whom i had been carried by john wallingford, when the latter pressed me to make my will. mr. harrison shook me cordially by the hand, after saluting lucy, whom he knew intimately. i saw at once that something unusual was working in his mind. this highly respectable advocate was a man of method and of great coolness of manner in the management of affairs, and he proceeded to business at once, using very little circumlocution. "i have been surprised to hear that my worthy client and friend, mr. john wailingford, is dead," he observed. "i do not know how his decease should have escaped my notice in the papers, unless it were owing to a pretty severe illness i suffered myself about the time it occurred. my good friend, mr. hardinge, told it to me for the first time, only half an hour since." "it is true, sir," i answered. "i understand my kinsman died eight months since." "and he held your bond for forty thousand dollars at the time he died?" "i regret to say he did; a bond secured by a mortgage on my paternal place, clawbonny, which has since been sold, by virtue of the power contained in the clauses, under the statute, and sold for a song; less than a fourth of its value." "and you have been arrested, at the suit of the administrator, for the balance due on the bond?" "i have, sir; and am liberated on general bail, only within an hour or two." "well, sir, all these proceedings can be, and _must_ be set aside. i have already given instructions to prepare an application to the chancellor for an injunction, and, unless your kinsman's administrator is a great dunce, you will be in peaceable possession of clawbonny, again, in less than a month--if a moderately sensible man, in less than twenty-four hours." "you would not raise hopes that are idle, mr. harrison; yet i do not understand how all this well can be!" "your kinsman, mr. john wallingford, who was a much esteemed client of mine, made a will, which will i drew myself, and which will being left in my possession for that purpose, i now put in your hands as his sole executor. by that will, you will perceive that he especially forgives you the debt of forty thousand dollars, and releases the claim under the mortgage. but this is not all. after giving some small legacies to a few of his female relatives, he has left you the residuary legatee, and i know enough of his affairs to be certain that you will receive an addition to your estate of more than two hundred thousand dollars. john wallingford was a character, but he was a money-making character; had he lived twenty years longer, he would have been one of the richest men in the state. he had laid an excellent foundation, but he died too soon to rear the golden structure." what a change of circumstances was here! i was not only virtually released from debt, but had clawbonny restored to me, and was master of all i had ever owned, my earnings and the money invested in the dawn excepted. this last was irretrievably gone, it was true, but, in its place i had the ample legacy of john wallingford as a compensation. this legacy consisted of a large sum in the three per cents, which then sold at about sixty, but were subsequently paid off at par, of good bank and insurance stocks, bonds and mortgages, and a valuable and productive real property in the western part of the state, with several buildings in town. in a word, i was even richer than lucy, and no longer need consider myself as one living on her generosity. it is not difficult to believe i was made supremely happy by this news, and i looked to lucy for sympathy. as for the dear girl herself, i do believe she felt anything but pleasure, at this new accession of riches; for she had a deep satisfaction in thinking that it was in her power to prove to me how completely i possessed her confidence, by placing all she had in my hands. nevertheless, she loved clawbonny as well as i did myself, and my restoration to the throne of my fathers was a subject of mutual delight. mr. harrison went on to say that he had ascertained daggett was in town, to conduct the expected arrangement with me, on the subject of my personals, and that he had already sent a messenger to his attorney, to let the existence of the will be known. he had, consequently, strong hopes of arranging matters, in the course of the next twenty-four hours. we were still at table, in effect, when the messenger came to let us know an interview was appointed at the office of this eminent counsel, and we all adjourned to that place, lucy excepted, as soon as the cloth was removed; for, in that day, cloths were always removed. at the office, we found mr. daggett, whom i now saw for the first time, and his legal adviser, already waiting for us. one glance sufficed to let us into the secret of the consternation both were in, for the lawer had committed himself in the course of the proceedings he had had an agency in conducting, almost as much as his client. "this is strange news to us, mr. harrison," the attorney commenced; "though your character and reputation, i will confess, make it look serious. is there no mistake in the matter, sir?" "none whatever, mr. meekly. if you will have the goodness to read this will, sir, you will perceive that the facts have been truly laid before your client; and, as to the authenticity of the document, i can only say, it was not only drawn up by myself, under precise instructions from mr. wallingford,--which instructions i still possess, in his own hand-writing,--but the will was copied by my client, as well as signed and sealed in my presence, as one of the witnesses. so far as relates to the personals, this will would be valid, though not signed by the testator, supposing no other will to exist. but, i flatter myself, you will find everything correct as to forms." mr. meekly read the will aloud, from beginning to end, and, in returning it to me, he cast a very give-it-up-sort of look at daggett. the latter inquired, with some anxiety,-- "is there any schedule of the property accompanying the will?" "there is, sir," returned mr. harrison; "and directions on it where to find the certificates of stock, and all the other evidences of debts--such as bonds and mortgages. of the last, several are in my own possession. i presume the bond of this mr. wallingford was kept by the testator himself, as a sort of family thing." "well, sir, you will find that none of the stock has been touched; and i confess this bond, with a few notes given in genessee, is all that i have been able to find. we have been surprised at discovering the assets to be so small." "so much the better for you, mr. daggett. knowing what i do, i shall only give up the assets i hold to the executor and heir. your letters of administration will be set aside, as a matter of course, even should you presume to oppose us,--which i should hardly think advisable." "we shall not attempt it, mr. harrison," meekly said, hastily; "and we expect equal liberality from your client." so much for having a first-rate lawyer and a man of character on my side. daggett gave the whole thing up, on the spot,--re-conveying to me clawbonny before he quitted, though the sale would unquestionably be set aside, and subsequently was set aside, by means of an amicable suit. a great deal remained to be done, however; and i was obliged to tear myself away from lucy, in order to do it. probate of the will was to be made in the distant county of genessee--and distant it was from new york, in ! the journey that could be made, to day, in about thirty hours, took me ten days: and i spent near a month in going through the necessary forms, and in otherwise settling my affairs at the west, as that part of the state was then called. the time, however, was not wasted below. mr. hardinge took charge of everything at clawbonny, and lucy's welcome letters,--three of which reached me weekly,--informed me that everything was re-established in the house, on the farm, and at the mill. the wallingford was set running again, and all the oxen, cows, horses, hogs, &c., &c., were living in their old haunts. the negroes were reinstated, and clawbonny was itself again! the only chants made wore for the better; the occasion having been improved, to paint and new-vamp the house, which mr. daggett's parsimony had prevented him from defacing by modern alterations. in a word, 'masser mile' was alone wanting to make all at the farm happy. chloe had communicated her engagement to 'miss lucy,' and it was understood neb and his master were to be married about the same time. as for moses, he had gone up to willow cove, on a leave of absence. a letter received from him, which now lies before me, will give a better account of his proceedings and feelings than i can write myself. it was in the following words, viz.: "_willow cove, sept. th_, . "captain wallingford: "dear sir, and my dear miles--here i have been, moored head and starn, these ten days, as comfortable as heart could wish, in the bosom of my family. the old woman was right down glad to see me, and she cried like an alligator, when she heard my story. as for kitty, she cried, and she laughed in the bargain; but that young bright, whom you may remember we fell in with, in our cruise after old van tassel, has fairly hauled alongside of my niece, and she does little but laugh from morning to night. it's bloody hard to lose a niece in this way, just as a man finds her, but mother says i shall gain a nephew by the trade. "now, for old van tassel. the lord will never suffer rogues to prosper in the long run. mother found the old rascal's receipt, given to my father for the money, years and years ago, and sending for a hudson lawyer, they made the miserly cheat off with his hatches, and hoist out cargo enough to square the yards. so mother considers the thing as settled at last; but i shall always regard the account as open until i have threshed the gentleman to my heart's content. the old woman got the cash in hard dollars, not understanding paper, and i wasn't in the house ten minutes, before the good old soul roused a stocking out of a drawer, and began to count out the pieces to pay me off. so you see, miles, i've stepped into my estate again, as well as yourself. as for your offer to pay me wages for the whole of last v'y'ge"--this word marble could only spell as he pronounced it--"it's generous, and that's a good deal in these bloody dishonest times, but i'll not touch a copper. when a ship's lost, the wages are lost with her, and that's law and reason. it would be hard on a marchant to have to pay wages for work done on board a craft that's at the bottom of the ocean; so no more on that p'int, which we'll consider settled. "i am delighted to learn you are to be married as soon as you get back to clawbonny. was i in your place, and saw such a nice young woman beckoning me into port, i'd not be long in the offing. thank you, heartily, for the invitation to be one of the bride's-maids, which is an office, my dear miles, i covet, and shall glory in. i wish you to drop me a line as to the rigging proper for the occasion, for i would wish to be dressed as much like the rest of the bride's-maids as possible; uniformity being always desirable in such matters. a wedding is a wedding, and should be dealt with as a wedding; so, waiting for further orders, i remain your friend and old ship-mate to command, "moses van dusen marble." i do not affirm that the spelling of this letter was quite as accurate as that given in this copy, but the epistle was legible, and evidently gave marble a great deal of trouble. as for the letters of dear lucy, i forbear to copy any. they were like herself, however; ingenuous, truthful, affectionate and feminine. among other things, she informed me that our union was to take place in st. michael's; that i was to meet her at the rectory, and that we might proceed to clawbonny from the church-door. she had invited rupert and emily to be present, but the health of the last would prevent their accepting the invitation. major, or general, merton, as he was universally called in new york, had the gout, and could not be there; and i was asked if it would not be advisable under all the circumstances, to have the affair as private as possible. my answer conveyed a cheerful compliance, and a week after that was despatched, i left the genessee country, having successfully completed all my business. no one opposed me, and so far from being regarded as an intruder, the world thought me the proper heir of my cousin. chapter xxix. "i calmed her fears, and she was calm, and told her love with virgin pride; and so i won my genevieve, my bright and beauteous bride." coleridge. by arrangement, i stopped at the willow cove, to pick up marble. i found the honest fellow happy as the day was long; but telling fearfully long and wonderful yarns of his adventures, to the whole country round. my old mate was substantially a man of truth; but he did love to astonish "know-nothings." he appears to have succeeded surprisingly well, for the dutchmen of that neighbourhood still recount anecdotes, of the achievements and sufferings of captain marvel, as they usually call him, though they have long ceased to think the country belongs to the united provinces. moses was glad to see me; and, after passing a night in the cottage of his mother, we proceeded towards clawbonny, in a conveyance that had been sent to willow cove to meet me. it was a carriage of my own, one of my own negroes acting as driver. i knew the old team, and will acknowledge that tears forced themselves to, my eyes as i thus saw myself, as it might be, reinstated in my own. the same feeling came powerfully over me, as we drove to the summit of an elevation in the road, that commanded a view of the vale and buildings of clawbonny. what a moment was that in my existence! i cannot say that i was born to wealth, even as wealth was counted among us sixty years since, but i was born to a competency. until i lost my ship, i had never known the humiliating sensations of poverty; and the feeling that passed over my heart, when i first heard that clawbonny was sold, has left an impression that will last for life. i looked at the houses, as i passed them in the streets, and remembered that i was houseless. i did not pass a shop in which clothes were exposed, without remembering that, were my debts paid, i should literally be without a coat to my back. now, i had my own once more; and there stood the home of my ancestors for generations, looking comfortable and respectable, in the midst of a most inviting scene of rural quiet and loveliness. the very fields seemed to welcome me beneath its roof! there is no use in attempting to conceal what happened; and i will honestly relate it. the road made a considerable circuit to descend the hill, while a foot-path led down the declivity, by a shorter cut, which was always taken by pedestrians. making an incoherent excuse to moses, and telling him to wait for me at the foot of the hill, i sprang out of the carriage, leaped a fence, and i may add, leaped out of sight, in order to conceal my emotion. i was no sooner lost to view, than, seating myself on a fragment of rock, i wept like a child. how long i sat there is more than i can say; but the manner in which i was recalled from this paroxysm of feeling will not soon be forgotten. a little hand was laid on my forehead, and a soft voice uttered the word "miles!" so near me, that, at the next instant, i held lucy in my arms. the dear girl had walked to the hill, as she afterwards admitted, in the expectation of seeing me pass on to clawbonny; and, comprehending my feelings and my behaviour, could not deny herself the exquisite gratification of sharing in my emotions. "it is a blessed restoration to your rights, dear miles," lucy at length said, smiling through her tears. "your letters have told me that you are rich; but i would rather you had clawbonny, and not a cent besides, than, without this place, you had the riches of the wealthiest man in the country. yours it should have been, at all events, could my means have compassed it." "and this, lucy, without my becoming your husband, do you mean?" lucy blushed brightly; though i cannot say the sincere, ingenuous girl ever looked embarrassed in avowing her preference for me. after a moment's pause, she smiled, and answered my question. "i have not doubted of the result, since my father gave me an account of your feelings towards me," she said, "and that, you will remember, was before mr. daggett had his sale. women have more confidence in the affections than men, i fear; at least, with us they are more engrossing concerns than with you--for we live for them altogether, whereas you have the world constantly to occupy your thoughts. i have never supposed miles wallingford would become the husband of any but lucy hardinge, except on one occasion, and then only for a very short period; and, ever since i have thought on such subjects at all, i have _known_ that lucy hardinge would never--_could_ never be the wife of any one but miles wallingford." "and that one exception, dearest,--that 'very short period?' having confessed so much, i am eager to know all." lucy became thoughtful, and she moved the grass at her feet with the end of her parasol, ere she replied. "the one exception was emily merton; and the short period terminated when i saw you together, in your own house. when i first saw emily merton, i thought her more worthy of your love than i could possibly be; and i fancied it impossible that you could have lived so long in a ship together, without discovering each other's merits. but, when i was placed with you both, under the same roof, i soon ascertained that, while your imagination had been a little led aside, your heart was always true to me." "is this possible, lucy! are women really so much more discriminating, so much more accurate in their opinions, than us men? while i was ready to hang myself for jealousy of andrew drewett, did you really know that my heart was entirely yours?" "i was not without misgivings, miles, and sometimes those that were keenly painful; but, on the whole, i will not say i felt my power, but that i felt we were dear to each other." "did you never suppose, as your excellent father has done, that we were too much like brother and sister, to become lovers--too much accustomed to be dear to each other as children, to submit to passion? for that which i feel for you, lucy, i do not pretend to dignify with the name of esteem, and respect, and affection--it is a passion, that will form the misery, or happiness of my life." lucy smiled archly, and again the end of her parasol played with the grass that grew around the rock on which we were seated. "how could i think this for you," she said, "when i had a contrary experience of my own constantly present, miles? i saw that you thought there was some difference of condition between us, (silly fellow!) and i felt persuaded you had only your own diffidence to overcome, to tell your own story." "and knowing and seeing all this, cruel lucy, why did you suffer years of cruel, cruel doubt to hang over me?" "was it a woman's part to speak, miles? i endeavoured to act naturally,--believe i did act naturally,--and i left the rest to god. blessed be his mercy, i am rewarded!" i folded lucy to my heart, and, passing a moment of sweet sympathy in the embrace, we both began to talk of other things, as if mutually conscious that our feelings were too high-wrought for the place in which we were. i inquired as to the condition of things at clawbonny, and was gratified with the report. everybody expected me. i had no tenantry to come forth to meet me,--nor were american tenants much addicted to such practices, even when they were to be found: though the miserable sophistry on the subject of landlord and tenant,--one of the most useful and humanizing relations of civilized life,--did not then exist among us, that i am sorry to find is now getting into vogue. in that day, it was not thought 'liberty' to violate the fair covenants of a lease; and attempts to cheat a landed proprietor out of his rights were _called_ cheating, as they ought to be--and they were called nothing else. in that day, a lease in perpetuity was thought a more advantageous bargain for the tenant, than a lease for a year, or a term of years; and men did not begin to reason as if one indulgence gave birth to a right, to demand more. in that day, paying rent in chickens, and wood, and work, was not fancied to be a remnant of feudality, but it was regarded as a favour conferred on him who had the privilege: and even now, nine countrymen in ten endeavour to pay their debts in everything they can, before they resort to the purse. in that day, the audacious sophism of calling land a monopoly, in a country that probably possesses more than a hundred acres for every living soul within its limits, was not broached: and, in that day, knots of men did not set themselves up as special representatives of the whole community, and interpret the laws in their own favour, as if they were the first principles of the entire republic. but my pen is running away with me, and i must return to lucy. a crisis is at hand; and we are about to see the laws triumphant, or acts of aggression that will far outdo all that has hitherto rested on the american name, as connected with a want of faith in pecuniary transactions. should i ever continue these adventures, occasions may offer to draw certain pictures of the signs of the times; signs that have an ominous aspect as regards real liberty, by substituting the most fearful of all tyrannies, the spurious, in its place. god alone knows for what we are reserved; but one thing is certain--there must be a serious movement backward, or the nation is lost. i had no tenantry to come out and meet me; but there were the blacks. it is true, the law was on the point of liberating these slaves, leaving a few of the younger to serve for a term of years, that should requite their owners for the care of their infancies and their educations; but this law could not effect an immediate change in the condition of the clawbonnys. the old ones did not wish to quit me, and never did; while it took years to loosen the tie which bound the younger portion of them to me and mine. at this hour, near twenty of them are living round me, in cottages of mine; and the service of my kitchen is entirely conducted by them. lucy prepared me for a reception by these children of africa, even the outcasts having united with the rest to do honour to their young master. honour is not the word; there was too much _heart_ in the affair for so cold a term; the negro, whatever may be his faults, almost always possessing an affectionate heart. at length, i remembered marble, and, taking leave of lucy, who would not let me accompany her home, i threw myself down the path, and found my mate cogitating in the carnage, at the foot of the hill. "well, miles, you seem to value this land of yours, as a seaman does his ship," cried moses, before i had time to apologize for having kept him so long waiting. "howsomever, i can enter into the feelin', and a blessed one it is, to get a respondentia bond off of land that belonged to a feller's grandfather. next thing to being a bloody hermit, i hold, is to belong to nobody in a crowded world; and i would not part with one kiss from little kitty, or one wrinkle of my mother's, for all the desert islands in the ocean. come, sit down now, my lad--why, you look as red as a rose-bud, and as if you had been running up and down hill the whole time you've been absent." "it is sharp work to come down such a hill as this on a trot. well, here i am at your side; what would you wish to know?" "why, lad, i've been thinkin', since you were away, of the duties of a bride's-maid,"--to his dying day, moses always insisted he had acted in this capacity at my wedding;--"for the time draws near, and i wouldn't wish to discredit you, on such a festivity. in the first place, how am i to be dressed? i've got the posy you mentioned in your letter, stowed away safe in my trunk. kitty made it for me last week, and a good-looking posy it was, the last time i saw it." "did you think of the breeches?" "ay, ay--i have them, too, and what is more i've had them bent. somehow or other, miles, running under bare poles does not seem to agree with my build. if there's time, i should like to have a couple of bonnets fitted to the articles." "those would be gaiters, moses, and i never heard of a bride's-maid in breeches and gaiters. no, you'll be obliged to come out like evervbody else." "well, i care less for the dress than i do for the behaviour. shall i be obliged to kiss miss lucy?" "no, not exactly miss lucy, but mrs. bride--i believe it would not be a lawful marriage without that." "heaven forbid that i should lay a straw in the way of your happiness, my dear boy; but you'll make a signal for the proper time to clear ship, then--you know i always carry a quid." i promised not to desert him in his need, and moses became materially easier in his mind. i do not wish the reader to suppose my mate fancied he was to act in the character of a woman at my nuptials, but simply that he was to act in the character of a bride's-maid. the difficulties which beset him will be best explained by his last remark on this occasion, and with which i shall close this discourse. "had i been brought up in a decent family," he said, "instead of having been set afloat on a tombstone, matrimony wouldn't have been such unknown seas to me. but, you know how it is, miles, with a fellow that has no relations. he may laugh, and sing, and make as much noise as he pleases, and try to make others think he's in good company the whole time; but, after all, he's nothing but a sort of bloody hermit, that's travelling through life, all the same as if he was left with a few pigs on a desert island. make-believe is much made use of in this world, but it won't hold out to the last. now of all mortal beings that i ever met with, you've fallen in with her that has least of it. there's some make-believe about you, miles, as when you looked so bloody unconcerned all the time you were ready to die of love, as i now l'arn, for the young woman you're about to marry: and mother has a little of it, dear old soul, when she says she's perfectly satisfied with the son the lord has given her, for i'm not so blasted virtuous but i might be better; and little kitty has lots of it when she pretends she would as soon have one kiss from me as two from young bright; but, as for lucy hardinge, i will say that i never saw any more make-believe about her, than was becoming in a young woman." this speech proved that moses was a man of observation. others might have drawn seemingly nicer shades of character, but this sincerity of feeling, truth of conduct, and singleness of purpose, formed the distinguishing traits of lucy's virtues. i was excessively gratified at finding that marble rightly appreciated one who was so very, very dear to me, and took care to let him know as much, as soon as he had made his speech. we were met by the negroes, at the distance of half a mile from the house. neb acted as master of the ceremonies, or, commodore would be the better word, for he actually carried a bit of swallow-tail bunting that was borrowed from the sloop, and there was just as much of ocean in the symbols used, as comported with the honours manifested to a seaman. old cupid carried the wallingford's ensign, and a sort of _harlequinade_ had been made out of marlinspikes, serving mallets, sail-maker's palms, and fids. the whole was crowned with a plug of tobacco, though i never used the weed, except in segars. neb had seen processions in town, as well as in foreign countries, and he took care that the present should do himself no discredit. it is true, that he spoke to me of it afterwards as a "nigger procession," and affected to hold it cheap; but i could see that the fellow was as much pleased with the conceits he had got up for the occasion, as he was mortified at the failure of the whole thing. the failure happened in this wise: no sooner did i approach near enough to the elder blacks to have my features fairly recognised, than the women began to blubber, and the men to toss their arms and shout "masser mile," "masser mile;" thereby throwing everything into confusion, at once placing feeling uppermost, at the expense of 'law and order.' to descend from the stilts that seemed indispensable to do credit to neb's imagination, the manner in which i was received by these simple-minded beings was infinitely touching. all the old ones shook hands with me, while the younger of both sexes kept more aloof, until i went to each in succession, and went through the ceremony of my own accord. as for the boys, they rolled over on the grass, while the little girls kept making curtsies, and repeating "welcome home to clawbonny, masser mile." my heart was full, and i question if any european landlord ever got so warm a reception from his tenantry, as i received from my slaves. and welcome i was indeed to clawbonny, and most welcome was clawbonny to me! in , new york had still some new york feeling left in the state. strangers had not completely overrun her as has since happened; and new york names were honoured; new york feelings had some place among us; life, homes, firesides, and the graves of our fathers, not yet being treated as so many incidents in some new speculation. men then loved the paternal roof, and gardens, lawns, orchards and church-yards, were regarded as something other than levels for rail-roads and canals, streets for villages, or public promenades to be called batteries, or parks, as might happen to suit aldermanic ambition, or editorial privilege. mr. hardinge met me at the gate of the little lawn, took me in his arms, and blessed me aloud. we entered the house in silence, when the good old man immediately set about showing me, by ocular proof, that everything was restored as effectually as i was restored myself. venus accompanied us, relating how dirty she had found this room, how much injured that, and otherwise abusing the daggetts, to my heart's content. their reign had been short, however; and a wallingford was once more master of the five structures of clawbonny. i meditated a sixth, even that day, religiously preserving every stone that had been already laid, however, in my mind's intention. the next day was that named by lucy as the one in which she would unite herself to me for ever. no secret was made of the affair; but notice had been duly given that all at clawbonny might be present. i left home at ten in the morning, in a very handsome carriage that had been built for the occasion, accompanied by moses attired as a bride's-maid. it is true his dumpy, square-built frame, rather caricatured the shorts and silk stockings; and, as we sat side by side in this guise, i saw his eye roaming from his own limbs to mine. the peculiarity of moses's toilette was that which all may observe in men of his stamp, who come out in full dress. the clothes a good deal more than fit them. everything is as tight as the skin; and the wearer is ordinarily about as awkward in his movements and sensations, as if he had gone into society, in _puris naturalibus_. that moses felt the embarrassment of this novel attire, was sufficiently apparent by his looks and movements, to say nothing of his speech. "miles, i do suppose," he remarked, as we trotted along, "that them that haven't had the advantage of being brought up at home never get a fair growth. now, here's these legs of mine; there's plenty of them, but they ought to have been put in a stretcher when i was a youngster, instead of being left to run about a hospital. well, i'll sail under bare poles, this once, to oblige you, bride-maid fashion; but this is the first and last time i do such a thing. don't forget to make the signal when i'm to kiss miss lucy." my thoughts were not exactly in the vein to enjoy the embarrassment of moses, and i silenced him by promising all he asked. we were not elegant enough to meet at the church, but i proceeded at once to the little rectory, where i found the good divine and my lovely bride had just completed their arrangements. and lovely, indeed, was lucy, in her simple but beautiful bridal attire! she was unattended, had none of those gay appliances about her that her condition might have rendered proper, and which her fortune would so easily have commanded. yet it was impossible to be in her presence without feeling the influence of her virgin mien and simple elegance. her dress was a spotless but exquisitely fine india muslin, well made and accurately fitting; and her dark glossy hair was embellished only by one comb ornamented with pearls, and wearing the usual veil. as for her feet and hands, they were more like those of a fairy than of one human; while her countenance was filled with all the heartfelt tenderness of her honest nature. around her ivory throat, and over her polished shoulders, hung my own necklace of pearls, strung as they had been on board the crisis, giving her bust an air of affluent decoration, while it told a long story of distant adventure and of well-requited affection. we had no bride's-maids, (marble excepted), no groom's-men, no other attendants than those of our respective households. no person had been asked to be present, for we felt that our best friends were with us, when we had these dependants around us. at one time, i had thought of paying drewett the compliment of desiring him to be a groom's-man; but lucy set the project at rest, by quaintly asking me how i should like to have been _his_ attendant, with the same bride. as for rupert, i never inquired how he satisfied the scruples of his father, though the old gentleman made many apologies to me for his absence. i was heartily rejoiced, indeed, he did not appear; and, i think, lucy was so also. the moment i appeared in the little drawing-room of the rectory, which lucy's money and taste had converted into a very pretty but simple room, my "bright and beauteous bride" arose, and extended to me her long-loved hand. the act itself, natural and usual as it was, was performed in a way to denote the frankness and tenderness of her character. her colour went and came a little, but she said nothing. without resuming her seat, she quietly placed an arm in mine, and turned to her father, as much as to say we were ready. mr. hardinge led the way to the church, which was but a step from the rectory, and, in a minute or two, all stood ranged before the altar, with the divine in the chancel. the ceremony commenced immediately, and in less than five minutes i folded lucy in my arms, as my wife. we had gone into the vestry-room for this part of the affair, and there it was that we received the congratulations of those humble, dark-coloured beings, who then formed so material a portion of nearly every american family of any means. "i wish you great joy and ebbery sort of happiness, masser mile," said old venus, kissing my hand, though i insisted it should be my face, as had often been her practice twenty years before. "ah! dis was a blessed day to _old_ masser and missus, could dey saw it, _but._ and i won't speak of anoder blessed saint dat be in heaven. and you too, _my_ dear young missus; now, we all so grad it be _you,_ for we did t'ink, a one time, _dat_ would nebber come to pass." lucy laid her own little white velvet-like hand, with the wedding ring on its fourth finger, into the middle of venus's hard and horny palm, in the sweetest manner possible; reminding all around her that she was an old friend, and that she knew all the good qualities of every one who pressed forward to greet her, and to wish her happiness. as soon as this part of the ceremony was over, we repaired to the rectory, where lucy changed her wedding robe, for what i fancied was one of the prettiest demi-toilette dresses i ever saw. i know i am now speaking like an old fellow, whose thoughts revert to the happier scenes of youth with a species of dotage, but it is not often a man has an opportunity of pourtraying such a bride and wife as lucy hardinge. on this occasion she removed the comb and veil, as not harmonizing with the dress in which she reappeared, but the necklace was worn throughout the whole of that blessed day. as soon as my bride was ready, mr. hardinge, lucy, moses and myself, entered the carriage, and drove over to clawbonny. thither all lucy's wardrobe had been sent, an hour before, under chloe's superintendence, who had barely returned to the church in time to witness the ceremony. one of the most precious moments of my life, was that in which i folded lucy in my arms and welcomed her to the old place as its mistress. "we came very near losing it, love," i whispered; "but it is now ours, unitedly, and we will be in no hurry to turn our backs on it." this was in a tête-a-tête, in the family room, whither i had led lucy, feeling that this little ceremony was due to my wife. everything around us recalled former scenes, and tears were in the eyes of my bride as she gently extricated herself from my arms. "let us sit down a moment, miles, and consult on family affairs, now we _are_ here," she said, smiling. "it may be early to begin, but such old acquaintances have no need of time to discover each other's wishes and good and bad qualities. i agree with you, heart and mind, in saying we will never turn our backs on clawbonny--dear, dear clawbonny, where we were children together, miles; where we knew so well, and loved so well, our departed grace,--and, i hope and trust, it will ever be our principal residence. the country-house i inherit from mrs. bradfort is better suited to modern tastes and habits, perhaps, but it can never be one half so dear to either of us. i would not speak to you on this subject before, miles, because i wished first to give you a husband's just control over me and mine, in giving you my hand; but, now, i may and will suggest what has been passing in my mind on this subject. riversedge"--so was mrs. bradfort's country-house called--"is a good residence, and is sufficiently well furnished for any respectable family. rupert and emily must live somewhere, and i feel certain it cannot long be in broadway. now, i have thought i would reserve riversedge for their future use. they can take it immediately, as a summer residence; for i prize one hour passed here more than twenty-four hours passed there." "what, rebel!--even should i choose to dwell in your west-chester house?" "you will be here, miles; and it is on your account that clawbonny is so dear to me. the place is yours,--i am yours,--and all your possessions should go together." "thank you, dearest. but will rupert be able to keep up a town and country house'!" "the first, not long, for a certainty; how long, you know better than i. when i have been your wife half-a-dozen years, perhaps you will think me worthy of knowing the secret of the money he actually has." this was said pleasantly; but it was not said without anxiety. i reflected on the conditions of my secresy. grace wished to keep the facts from lucy, lest the noble-hearted sister should awaken a feeling in the brother that might prevent her bequest from being carried into effect. then, she did not think lucy would ever become my wife, and circumstances were changed, while there was no longer a reason for concealing the truth from the present applicant, at least. i communicated all that had passed on the subject to my-deeply-interested listener. lucy received the facts with sorrow, though they were no more than she had expected to learn. "i should be covered with shame, were i to hear this from any other than you, miles," she answered, after a thoughtful pause; "but i know your nature too well, not to feel certain that the sacrifice scarce cost you a thought, and that you regretted rupert's self-forgetfulness more than the loss of the money. i confess this revelation has changed all my plans for the future, so far as they were connected with my brother." "in what manner, dearest? let nothing that has happened to me influence your decisions." "in so much as it affects my views of rupert's character, it must, miles. i had intended to divide mrs. bradford's fortune equally with my brother. had i married any man but you, i should have made this a condition of our union; but _you_ i know so well, and so well know i could trust, that i have found a deep satisfaction in placing myself, as it might be, in your power. i know that all my personal property is already yours, without reserve, and that i can make no disposition of the real, even after i come of age, without your consent. but i had that faith in you, as to believe you would let me do as i pleased." "have it still, love. i have neither need, nor wish, to interfere." "no, miles; it would be madness to give property to one of such a character. if you approve, i will make rupert and emily a moderate quarterly allowance, with which, having the use of my country-place, they may live respectably. further than that, i should consider it wrong to go." it is scarcely necessary to say how much i approved of this decision, or the applause i lavished on the warm-hearted donor. the sum was fixed at two thousand dollars a year, before we left the room; and the result was communicated to rupert by lucy herself, in a letter written the very next day. our wedding-dinner was a modest, but a supremely happy meal; and in the evening, the blacks had a ball in a large laundry, that stood a little apart, and which was well enough suited to such a scene. our quiet and simple festivities endured for several days; the "uner" of neb and chloe taking place very soon after our own marriage, and coming in good time to furnish an excuse for dancing the week fairly out. marble got into trowsers the day after the ceremony, and then he entered into the frolic with all his heart. on the whole, he was relieved from being a bride's-maid,--a sufficiently pleasant thing,--but having got along so well with lucy, he volunteered to act in the same capacity to chloe. the offer was refused, however, in the following classical language: "no, misser marble; colour is colour," returned chloe. "you's white, and we's black. mattermony is a berry solemn occerpashun; and there mustn't be no improper jokes at my uner with neb clawbonny." chapter xxx. "this disease is beyond my practice: yet i have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds." macbeth. the honeymoon was passed at clawbonny, and many, many other honeymoons that have since succeeded it. i never saw a man more delighted than mr. hardinge was, at finding me actually his son-in-law. i really believed he loved me more than he did rupert, though he lived and died in ignorance of his own son's true character. it would have been cruel to undeceive him; and nothing particular ever occurred to bring about an _éclaircissement_. rupert's want of principle was a negative, rather than an active quality, and was only rendered of account by his vanity and selfishness. self-indulgence was all he aimed at, and he was much too self-indulgent and shrewd to become an active rogue. he would have spent lucy's and my joint fortunes, had they been put at his control; but, as they never were, he was fain to limit his expenditures to such sums as we saw fit to give him, with certain extra allowances extorted by his debts. our intercourse was very much restricted to visits of ceremony, at least on my part; though lucy saw him oftener; and no allusion was ever made to the past. i called him "mr. hardinge" and he called me "mr. wallingford." "rupert" and "miles" were done with for ever, between us. i may as well dispose of the history of this person and his wife, at once; for i confess it gives me pain to speak of them, even at this distance of time. rupert lived but four years, after my marriage to his sister. as soon as he found it necessary to give up the broadway house, he accepted the use of riversedge and his sister's $ a-year, with gratitude, and managed to get along on that sum, apparently, down to the hour of his death. it is true, that i paid his debts, without lucy's knowledge, twice in that short period; and i really think he was sensible of his errors, to a certain extent, before his eyes were closed. he left one child, a daughter, who survived him only a few months. major merton's complaints had carried him off previously to this. between this old officer and myself, there had ever existed a species of cordiality; and i do believe he sometimes remembered his various obligations to me and marble, in a proper temper. like most officials of free governments, he left little or nothing behind him; so that mrs. hardinge was totally dependent on her late husband's friends for a support, during her widowhood. emily was one of those semi-worldly characters, that are not absolutely wanting in good qualities, while there is always more or less of a certain disagreeable sort of calculation in all they do. rupert's personal advantages and agreeable manners had first attracted her; and believing him to be mrs. bradfort's heir, she had gladly married him. i think she lived a disappointed woman, after her father's death; and i was not sorry when she let us know that she was about to "change her condition," as it is termed in widow's parlance, by marrying an elderly man, who possessed the means of giving her all that money can bestow. with this second, or, according to venus's nomenclature, _step_-husband, she went to europe, and there remained, dying only three years ago, an amply endowed widow. we kept up a civil sort of intercourse with her to the last, actually passing a few weeks with her, some fifteen years since, in a house, half-barn, half-castle, that she called a palace, on one of the unrivalled lakes of italy. as _la signora montiera,_ (montier) she was sufficiently respected, finishing her career as a dowager of good reputation, and who loved the "pomps and vanities of this wicked world." i endeavoured, in this last meeting, to bring to her mind divers incidents of her early life, but with a singular want of success. they had actually passed, so far as her memory was concerned, into the great gulf of time, keeping company with her sins, and appeared to be entirely forgot. nevertheless, la signora was disposed to treat me and view me with consideration, as soon as she found me living in credit, with money, horses, and carriages at command, and to forget that i had been only a skip-master. she listened smilingly, and with patience, to what, i dare say, were my prolix narratives, though her own recollections were so singularly impaired. she did remember something about the wheelbarrow and the canal in hyde park; but as for the voyage across the pacific, most of the incidents had passed out of her mind. to do her honour, lucy wore the pearls, on an occasion in which she gave a little _festa_ to her neighbours; and i ascertained she did remember them. she even hinted to one of her guests, in my hearing, that they had been intended for _her_ originally; but "we cannot command the impulses of the heart, you know, _câra mia_," she added, with a very self-complacent sort of a sigh. what of all this? the _ci-devant_ emily was no more than a summary of the feelings, interests, and passions of millions, living and dying in a narrow circle erected by her own vanities, and embellished by her own contracted notions of what is the end and aim of human existence, and within a sphere that _she_ fancied respectable and refined. as for the race of the clawbonnys, all the elderly members of this extensive family lived and died in my service; or, it might be better to say, i lived in theirs. venus saw several repetitions of her own charms in the offspring of neb and chloe, though she pertinaciously insisted to the last, that cupid, as a step-husband, had no legitimate connection with any of the glistening, thick-lipped, chubby set. but, even closer family ties than those which bound my slaves to me, are broken by the pressure of human institutions. the conscript fathers of new york had long before determined that domestic slavery should not continue within their borders; and, one by one, these younger dependants dropped off, to seek their fortunes in town, or in other portions of the state; until few were left beside neb, his consort, and their immediate descendants. some of these last still cling to me; the parents having instilled into the children, in virtue of their example and daily discourse, feelings that set at naught the innovations of a changeable state of society. with them, clawbonny is still clawbonny; and i and mine remain a race apart in their perception of things. i gave neb and chloe their freedom-papers, the day the faithful couple were married, and at once relieved their posterity from the servitude of eight-and-twenty, and five-and-twenty years, according to sex, that might otherwise have hung over all their elder children, until the law, by a general sweep, manumitted everybody. these papers neb put in the bottom of his tobacco-box, not wishing to do any discredit to a gift from me; and there i accidentally saw them, in rags, seventeen years later, not having been opened, or seen by a soul, as i firmly believe, in all that time. it is true, the subsequent legislation of the state rendered all this of no moment; but the procedure showed the character and disposition of the man, demonstrating his resolution to stick by me to the last. he has had no intention to free _me_, whatever may have been my plans for himself and his race. i never had more than one conversation with either neb or his wife, on the subject of wages, and then i discovered how tender a thing it was, with the fellow, to place him on a level with the other hired people of my farm and household. "i won'er what i done, masser mile, dat you want to pay me wages, like a hired man!" said neb, half-disposed to resent, and half-disposed to grieve at the proposal. "i was born in de family, and it seem to me dat quite enough; but, if dat isn't enough, i went to sea wid you, masser mile, de fuss day you go, and i go ebbery time since." these words, uttered a little reproachfully, disposed of the matter. from that hour to this, the subject of wages has never been broached between us. when neb wants clothes he goes and gets them, and they are charged to "masser mile;" when he wants money he comes and gets it, never manifesting the least shame or reluctance, but asking for all he has need of, like a man. chloe does the same with lucy, whom she regards, in addition to her having the honour to be my wife, as a sort of substitute for "miss grace." with this honest couple, mr. and mrs. miles wallingford, of clawbonny, and riversedge; and union place, are still nothing but "masser mile" and "miss lucy;"--and i once saw an english traveller take out her note-book, and write something very funny, i dare say, when she heard chloe thus address the mother of three fine children, who were hanging around her knee, and calling her by that, the most endearing of all appellations. chloe was indifferent to the note of the traveller, however, still calling her mistress "miss lucy," though the last is now a grandmother. as for the children of the house of nebuchadnezzar, truth compels me to say, that they have been largely influenced by the spirit of the age, and that they look on the relation that existed for more than a century, between the wallingfords and the clawbonnys, with eyes somewhat different from those of their parents. they have begun to migrate; and i am not sorry to see them go. notwithstanding, the tie will not be wholly broken, so long as any of the older stock remain, tradition leaving many of its traces among them. not one has ever left my rule without my consent; and i have procured places for them all, as ambition, or curiosity, has carried them into the world. as for this new spirit of the age that is doing so much among us, i am not twaddler enough to complain of all change, for i know that many of these changes have had the most beneficial effects. i am far from thinking that domestic slavery, as it once existed at clawbonny, is a picture of domestic slavery as it existed throughout the land; but i do believe that the institution, as it was formerly known in new york, was quite as much to the disadvantage of the white man, as to that of the black. there was always something of the patriarchal character in one of our households, previously to the change in the laws; and the relation of master and slave, in old, permanent families, in which plenty was no stranger, had ever more or less of that which was respectable and endearing. it is not so much in relation to the abolition spirit, (if it would only confine its exertions to communities over which it may happen to possess some right of control,) that i feel alarmed as in reference to a certain spirit, which appears to think there always must be more and more change, and that in connection with any specific interest, whatever may have been its advancement under previous _régimes_; nothing in social life being fully developed, according to the creed of these movement philosophers. now, in my view of the matter, the two most dangerous of all parties in a state, are that which sets up conservatism as its standard, and that which sets up progress: the one is for preserving things of which it would be better to be rid, while the other crushes all that is necessary and useful in its headlong course. i now speak of these opposing principles, as they are marshalled in _parties_, opposition giving pertinacity and violence to each. no sane man can doubt that, in the progress of events, much is produced that ought to be retained, and much generated that it would be wiser to reject. he, alone, is the safe and wise legislator, who knows how, and when, to make the proper distinctions. as for conservatism, lafayette once characterized it excellently well, in one of his happiest hits in the tribune. "gentlemen talk of the just medium (_juste milieu_)" he said, "as if it embraced a clear political creed. we all know what the just medium is, as relates to any particular question; it is simply the truth, as it is connected with that question. but when gentlemen say, that they belong to the _juste milieu_, as a _party_, and that they intend to steer a middle course in all the public events of the day, they remind me of a case like this--a man of exaggerated notions lays down the proposition that four and four make ten; another of more discretion and better arithmetic combats this idea, by maintaining that four and four make only eight; whereupon, your gentleman of the _juste milieu_, finds himself obliged to say, 'messieurs, you are equally in the wrong; the truth never lies in extremes, and four and four make nine.'" what is true of conservatism, as a principle, is still more true as to the movement; for it often happens in morals, as well as in physics, that the remedy is worse than the disease. the great evil of europe, in connection with interests of this nature, arises from facts that have little or no influence here. there, radical changes have been made, the very base of the social edifice having been altered, while much of the ancient architecture remains in the superstructure. where this is the case, some errors may be pardoned in the artisans who are for reducing the whole to the simplicity of a single order. but, among ourselves, the man who can see no end to anything earthly, ever maintaining that the best always lies beyond, if he live long enough to succeed, may live long enough to discover that truth is always on an eminence, and that the downward course is only too easy to those who rush in so headlong a manner at its goal, as to suffer the impetus of the ascent to carry them past the apex. a social fact cannot be carried out to demonstration like a problem in euclid, the ramifications being so infinite as to reduce the results to something very like a conclusion from a multitude of interests. it is next incumbent to speak of marble. he passed an entire month at clawbonny, during which time he and neb rigged the grace and lucy, seven different ways, coming back to that in which they found her, as the only rig in which she would sail; no bad illustration, by the way, of what is too often the winding up of experiments in overdone political movements. moses tried shooting, which he had heard belonged to a country life; and he had a sort of design to set up as a fourth or fifth class country gentleman; but his legs were too short to clamber over high rail-fences with any comfort, and he gave up the amusement in despair. in the course of a trial of ten days, he brought in three robins, a small squirrel, and a crow; maintaining that he had also wounded a pigeon, and frightened a whole flock of quails. i have often bagged ten brace of woodcocks of a morning, in the shooting-grounds of clawbonny, and as many quails in their season. six weeks after our marriage, lucy and i paid willow cove a visit, where we passed a very pleasant week. to my surprise, i received a visit from squire van tassel, who seemed to bear no malice. marble made peace with him, as soon as he paid back the amount of his father's bond, principal and interest, though he always spoke of him contemptuously to me in private. i must confess i was astonished at the seemingly forgiving temper of the old usurer; but i was then too young to understand that there are two principles that govern men's conduct as regards their associations; the one proceeding from humility and christian forgiveness, and the other from an indifference to what is right. i am afraid the last produces more of what is called a forgiving temper than the first; men being often called vindictive, when they are merely honest. marble lost his mother about a twelvemonth after we returned from our unfortunate voyage in the dawn. a month or two earlier, he lost his niece, little kitty, by a marriage with the son of 'neighbour bright.' after this, he passed much of his time at clawbonny, making occasional visits to us, in chamber street, in the winter. i say in chamber street, as trade soon drove us out of lucy's town residence in wall street. the lot on which the last once stood is still her property, and is a small fortune of itself. i purchased and built in chamber street, in , making an excellent investment. in , we went into bleecker street, a mile higher up town, in order to keep in the _beau quartier;_ and i took advantage of the scarcity of money and low prices of , to take up new ground in union place, very nearly a league from the point where lucy commenced as a house-keeper in the good and growing town of manhattan. after marble found himself an orphan again, he complained that he was little better off than a 'bloody hermit' at willow cove, and began to talk about seeing the world. all of a sudden, he made his appearance at clawbonny, bag and baggage, and announced an intention to look for a mate's berth, in some east indiaman. i heard his story, kept him a day or two with me, while i superintended the masons who were building _my_ addition to the house, which was then nearly-completed, and then we proceeded to town in company. i took moses to the ship-yards, and carried him on board a vessel that was just receiving her spars, (she was coppered and copper-fastened, a. no. , of live-oak frame, and southern pine decks, &c.,) asking him how he liked her. he hoped she had a good name. "why, she is called the smudge," i answered. "i hope you fancy it." moses jerked a finger over his shoulder, as much as to say he understood me, and inquired where i intended to send the craft. "to canton, with you for master." i saw that my old mate was touched with this proof of confidence, and that his self-esteem had so much risen with the discovery of his origin that he made no objections to the trust. i did not intend to go regularly into commerce, but i kept the smudge running many years, always under marble, and made a vast deal of money by her. once she went to europe, lucy and i going in her as passengers. this was after the death of my dear old guardian, who made such an end, as became his virtuous and christian life. we, that is lucy and i, remained abroad several years, returning home in the smudge, on the last voyage she ever made as belonging to me. neb had often been out in the ship, just to vary the scene; and he came to havre in her, as a matter of course, when 'masser mile,' 'miss lucy,' and their two 'young massers,' and two 'young missuses,' were ready to come home. i was a good deal shocked at meeting my old friend, moses, on this occasion, for he was breaking up fast, being now hard on upon seventy; a time of life when most seamen are unfit for their calling. moses, however, had held on, with a determination to convey us all back to clawbonny. three days after we had sailed, the man of stone had to give up, and take to his berth. i saw that his days were numbered, and felt it to be a duty to let him know his real situation. it was an unpleasant office, but became less so by the resigned and manly manner in which the invalid heard me. it was only when i ceased speaking, that he made an attempt to reply. "i have known that the v'y'ge of life was pretty near up, miles," he then answered, "for many a day. when the timbers complain and the new tree-nails hit only decayed wood, it is time to think of breaking up the hull for the craft's copper, and old iron. i've pretty much worn out the smudge, and the smudge has pretty much worn out me. i shall never see ameriky, and i now give up charge of the craft to you. she is your own, and nobody can take better care of her. i own i should like to be cased in something that once belonged to her. there's the bulk-head that was taken down, to alter the state-rooms for your family--it would make as comfortable a coffin as a body could want." i promised the old man all should be done, as he desired. after a short pause, it struck me the present might be a favourable moment to say a ward on the subject of the future. marble was never a vicious man, nor could he be called a particularly wicked man, as the world goes. he was thoroughly honest, after making a few allowances for the peculiar opinions of seamen, and his sins were principally those of omission. but, of religious instruction he had literally known none, in early life. that which he had picked up in his subsequent career, was not of the most orthodox character. i had often thought marble was well disposed on such subjects, but opportunity was always wanting to improve this hopeful disposition. accordingly, i now spoke plainly to him, and i could see his still keen eyes turned wistfully towards me, more than once, as he listened with an absorbed attention. "ay, ay, miles," he answered, when i was through, "this may all be true enough, but it's rather late in the day for me to go to school. i've heard most of it before, in one shape or another, but it always came so much in scraps and fragments, that before i could bend one idee on to another, so as to make any useful gear of the whole, some of the pieces have slipped through my fingers. hows'ever, i've been hard at work at the good book, the whole of this v'y'ge, and you know it's been a long one; and i must say that i've picked up a good deal that seems to me to be of the right quality. now i always thought it was one of the foolishest things a man could do, to forgive one's enemies, my rule having been to return broadside for broadside, as you must pretty well know; but, i now see that it is more like a kind natur' to pardon, than to revenge." "my dear moses, this is a very hopeful frame of mind; carry out this feeling in all things, leaning on the saviour alone for your support, and your dying hour may well be the happiest of your life." "there's that bloody smudge, notwithstanding; i hardly think it will be expected of me to look upon him as anything but a 'long-shore pirate, and a fellow to be disposed of in the shortest way possible. as for old van tassel, he's gone to square the yards in a part of the univarse where all his tricks will be known; and i hold it to be onreasonable to carry spite ag'in a man beyond the grave. i rather think i have altogether forgiven him; though, to speak the truth, he desarved a rope's-ending." i understood marble much better than he understood himself. he felt the sublime beauty of the christian morality, but, at the same time, he felt there were certain notions so rooted in his own heart, that it exceeded his power to extract them. as for smudge, his mind had its misgivings concerning the propriety of his own act, and, with the quickness of his nature, sought to protest itself against its own suggestions, by making an exception of that wretch, as against the general mandates of god. van tassel he probably could, in a manner, pardon, the mischief having been in a measure repaired; though it was a forgiveness that was strangely tinctured with his own deep contempt for the meanness of the transgressor. our conversation lasted a long time. at length lucy joined in it, when i thought it wisest to leave the old tar in the hands of one so well fitted by nature and education to be the instrument, under the providence of god, of bringing him to a more healthful view of his condition. i had the ship to take care of, and this was a good excuse for not interfering much with what passed between the dying man and her who might almost be termed his ministering angel. i overheard many of their conferences, and was present at some of their prayers, as were my sons and daughters; being thus enabled to understand the progress that was made, and the character of the whole procedure. it was an admirable sight, truly, to see that still lovely woman, using all the persuasion of her gentle rhetoric, all the eloquence of her warm feelings and just mind, devoting herself for days and days, to the labour of leading such a spirit as that of marble's to entertain just and humble view's of his own relation to the creator and his son, the saviour of men. i will not say that complete success crowned the pious efforts of the single-hearted woman it was my blessed fortune to call my wife: this, perhaps, was not to be expected. it required a power exceeding hers to guide the human heart at seventy, after a seaman's life, to a full repentance of its sins; but, by the grace of god, so much seemed to be accomplished, as to give us all reason to hope that the seed had taken root, and that the plant might grow under the guidance of that spirit in whose likeness the most lowly of the race has been created. the passage was long, but very tranquil, and there was ample time for all that has been related. the ship was still to the eastward of the grand banks, when marble ceased to converse much; though it is evident his thoughts were intently musing. he fell away fast, and i began to look forward to his final departure, as an event that might occur at any hour. he did not seem to suffer, but his hold of life gradually gave way, and the spirit was about to take its departure, purely on account of the decayed condition of the earthly tenement in which it had so long dwelt, as the stork finally deserts the tottering chimney. about a week after this change, my son miles came to me on deck, and informed me his dear mother desired to see me in the cabin. on going below, i was met by lucy, with a face that denoted how solemn she felt was the character of the intelligence she had to communicate. "the moment is at hand, dear miles," she said.--"our old friend is about to be called away." i felt a pang at this speech, though i had long expected the result. many of the earlier and more adventurous years of my life passed rapidly in review before me, and i found the image of the dying man blended with nearly all. whatever may have been his peculiarities, to me he had always been true. from the hour when i first shipped, as a runaway boy, on board the john, down to that hour, moses marble had proved himself a firm and disinterested friend to miles wallingford. "is he conscious?" i asked, anxiously. "when i last saw him, i thought his mind wandered a little." "perhaps it did; but he is now more collected, if not entirely so. there is reason to think he has at length felt some of the influence of the redeemer's sacrifice. for the last week, the proofs of this have been increasing." no more passed between lucy and me, on the subject, at that time; but i entered the cabin in which the cot of marble had been slung. it was a spacious, airy room, for a ship; one that had been expressly fitted by my orders, for the convenience of lucy and her two daughters, but which those dear, self-denying creatures had early and cheerfully given up to the possession of their old friend. as yet, i have not particularly spoken of these two girls, the eldest of whom was named grace, and the youngest lucy. at that time, the first was just fifteen, while her sister was two years younger. by a singular coincidence, grace resembled the women of my family most; while the latter, the dear, ingenuous, frank, pretty little thing, had so much likeness to her mother, when at the same time of life, that i often caught her in my arms, and kissed her, as she uttered some honest sentiment, or laughed joyously and melodiously, as had been the practice of her who bore her, twenty years before. on those occasions, lucy would smile, and sometimes a slight blush would suffuse her face; for i could see she well understood the impulse which would so suddenly carry me off to the days of my boyhood and boyish affection. on the present solemn occasion both the girls were in the cabin, struggling to be calm, and doing all that lay in their power to solace the dying man. grace, the oldest, was the most active and efficient, of course, her tender years inducing diffidence in her sister; still, that little image of her mother could not be kept entirely in the back-ground, when the heart and the desire to be useful were urging her to come out of herself, in order to share in her sister's duties. i found marble quite sensible, and the anxious manner in which he slowly examined all the interested faces that were now gathered about his bed, proved how accurately he noted the present and the absent. twice did he go over us all, ere he spoke in the husky tones that usually precede death-- "call neb," he said--"took leave of my mates, and of all the rest of the men, yesterday; but i consider neb as one of the family, miles, and left him for the last." this i knew to be true, though i purposely absented myself from a scene that i well understood would have to be repeated in my case. neb was summoned accordingly, not a syllable being uttered among us, until the black stood just without the circle of my own wife and children. moses watched the arrangement jealously, and it seems he was dissatisfied at seeing his old shipmate keeping so much aloof at that solemn and absorbing moment. "you are but a nigger, i know, neb," the old seaman got out, "but your heart would do honour to a king. it's next to miles's, and that's as much as can be said of any man's. come nearer, boy; none here will grudge you the liberty." little lucy drew back in an instant, and fairly pulled neb into the place she herself had just before occupied. "bless you for that, young 'un," said marble. "i didn't know your mother when she was of your age, but i can see that one cat-block is not more like another than you are like what she was at your age; keep that likeness up, my dear, and then your father will be as happy and fortunate in his darter as he has been in his wife. well, nobody desarves his luck better than miles--providential luck, i mean, my dear madam wallingford," interpreting a sorrowful expression of lucy's eyes aright; "for, thanks to your teaching, i now understand there is a divine director of all our fortins, whether ashore, or afloat, black or white." "there is not a sparrow falls, captain marble," said the gentle, earnest voice of my wife, "that he does not note it." "yes, so i understand it, now, though once i thought little of such things. thus, when we were wracked in the dawn, neb, it was by god's will, and with a design, like, to bring us three all on to our present fortin, and present frame of mind; should i ever use the word luck, ag'in, which i may be likely enough to do from habit, you are all to understand i mean what i call providential luck. yes, madam wallingford, i comprehend it parfectly, and shall never forget _your_ kindness, which has been to me the best turn of providential luck that has ever happened. i've sent for you, neb, to have a parting word, and to give you the advice of an old man before i quit this world altogether." neb began to twist his fingers, and i could see tears glistening in his eyes; for his attachment to marble was of very long standing and of proof. when men have gone through, together, as much as we three had experienced in company, indeed, the most trifling griefs of everyday life get to appear so insignificant, that our connection seems to be one of a nature altogether stronger than the commoner ties. "yes, sah, cap'in marble, sah; what please to be your wish, sah?" asked the negro, struggling to subdue his grief. "to say a few words of advice, neb, to take leave of my friends, and then to be struck off the shipping articles of life. old age and hard sarvice, neb, has made me veer cable to the better end. the stopper is working loose, and a few more surges will leave the hulk adrift. the case is different with you, who are in your prime,--and a prime chap be you, on a yard or at the wheel. my parting advice to you, neb, is, to hold out as you've begun. i don't say you're without failin's, (what nigger is?) but you're a good fellow, and as sartain to be found in your place as the pumps. in the first place, you're a married man; and, though your wife is only a negress, she's your wife, and you must stick to her through thick and thin. take your master as an example, and obsarve how he loves and cherishes your mistress," [here lucy pressed, gently, closer to my side;] "and then, as to your children, bring 'em up according' to the advice of madam wallingford. you can never sail under better instructions than hern, as i know, by experience. be particular to make that hector of yours knock off from swearing: he's begun, and what's begun in sin is pretty sartain to have an indin'. talk to him, first, and, if that won't do, rope's-end it out of him. there's great vartue in ratlin stuff, among boys. as for yourself, neb, hold on as you have begun, and the lord will have marcy on you, before the v'y'ge is up." here marble ceased from exhaustion; though he made a sign to neb not to move, as he had more to say. after resting a little, he felt under his pillow, whence he produced a very old tobacco-box, fumbled about until he had opened it, took a small bite, and shut the box again. all this was done very slowly, and with the uncertain, feeble movements of a dying man. when the lid was replaced, marble held the box towards neb, and resumed his address. "use that for my sake, neb," he said. "it is full of excellent tobacco, and the box has the scent of thirty years in it--that being the time it has sailed in my company. that box has been in nine fights, seven wracks, and has seen more boat-sarvice than most london watermen, or any whitehaller of 'em all. among other explites, it has been round the world four times, besides having run the straits of magellan in the dark, as might be; as your master and you know as well as i do. take that box, therefore, lad, and be particular, always, to put none but the best of pig-tail in it--for it's used to that only. and now, neb, a word about a little duty you're to do for me, when you get in. ask your master, first, for leave, and then go up to willow cove, and carry my blessin' to kitty and her children. it's easy done, if a man sets about it in the right spirit. all you have to do is to go up to the cove, and say that i prayed to god to bless 'em all, before i died. do you think you can remember that?" "i try, cap'in marble, sah--yes, sah, i try all i can, dough i'm no scholar." "perhaps you had better confide this office to me," said the musical voice of my wife. marble was pleased, and he seemed every way disposed to accept the offer. "i didn't like to trouble you so much," he answered, "though i feel grateful for the offer. well, then, neb, you may leave the blessin' unsaid, as your mistress is so kind--hold on a bit: you can give it to chloe and her little family; all but hector, i mean--but not to him, unless he knocks off swearing! as soon as he does that, why let him have his share. now, neb, give me your hand. good bye, boy: you've been true to me, and god bless you for it. you are but a nigger, i know; but there's one in whose eyes your soul is as precious as that of many a prince and priest." neb shook hands with his old commander, broke out of the circle, rushed into the steerage, and blubbered like a baby. in the meantime marble paused to recover his own self-possession, which had been a little disturbed by the feeling manifested by the black. as soon as he felt himself a little composed, he hunted about his cot until he found two small paper boxes, each of which contained a very pretty ring, that it seemed he had purchased for this express purpose when last in port. these rings he gave to my daughters, who received the presents sobbing, though with strong natural exhibitions of the friendly sentiments they entertained for him. "your father and i have gone through many hardships and trials together," he said, "and i love you all even more than i love my own relations. i hope this is not wrong, madam wallingford, for it's out of my power to help it. i've already given my keep-sakes to the boys, and to your parents, and i hope all of you will sometimes remember the poor old sea-dog that god, in his wisdom, threw like a waif in your way, that he might be benefited by your society. there's your polar star, young 'uns," pointing to my wife. "keep god in mind always, and give to this righteous woman the second place in your hearts; not that i say a word, or think anything ag'in your father, who's a glorious fellow in his way, but, a'ter all, young women should copy a'ter their mothers, when they've such a mother as your'n, the best of fathers fallin' far astern, in gentleness and other vartues." the girls wept freely, and marble, after waiting a few minutes took a solemn leave of all my children, desiring everybody but lucy and myself to quit the cabin. an hour passed in discourse with us two, during which moses frequently exhorted me to give ear to the pious counsels of my wife, for he manifested much anxiety for the future welfare of my soul. "i've generalized a great deal over that affair of smudge, the whole of this v'y'ge," he continued, "and i've had sore misgivings consarning the explite. madam wallingford, however, has eased my mind on that score, by showing me how to lay the burthen of this, with all the rest of the load of my sins, on the love of christ. i am resigned to go, miles, for it is time, and i'm getting to be useless. it's wicked to wish to run a ship after her frame has worked loose, and nothing now fastens me to life but you. i own it's hard to part, and my mind has had some weakness on the matter. however, miles, my dear boy, for boy you are still in my eyes, there is comfort in looking ahead. go by your wife's rules, and when the v'y'ge is up, we shall all find ourselves in the same haven." "it gives me much happiness, moses, to find you in this frame of mind," i answered. "since you must quit us, you will not leave one behind of the name of wallingford, that will not rejoice at this prospect for the future. as for your sins, god has both the power and the will to lighten you of their weight, when he finds you disposed to penitence, and to make use of the mediation of his blessed son. if there is anything you desire to have done, hereafter, this is a very proper time to let me know it." "i've made a will, miles, and you'll find it in my desk. there are some trifles given to you and yourn, but you want not gold, and the rest all goes to kitty and her children. there is a p'int, however, on which my mind is very ondetarmined, and i will now lay it before you. don't you think it more becoming for a seaman to be buried in blue water, than to be tuck'd up in a church-yard? i do not like tombstones, having had too much of them in 'arly youth, and feel as if i want sea-room. what is your opinion, miles?" "decide for yourself. your wishes will be our law." "then roll me up in my cot, and launch me overboard, in the old way. i have sometimes thought it might be well to lie at my mother's side; but she'll excuse an old tar for preferring blue water to one of your country church-yards." after this, i had several interviews with the old man, though he said nothing more on the subject of his interment, that of his property, or that of his departure. lucy read the bible to him, two or three times every day, and she prayed with him often. on one occasion, i heard a low, sweet voice, near his cot, and taking a look, ascertained it was my little pet, my daughter lucy, then only thirteen, reading a second time a chapter that her mother had gone through, only an hour before, with some of her own remarks. the comments were wanting now, but the voice had the same gentle earnestness, the same sweet modulations, and the same impressive distinctness as that of the mother! marble lived until we had passed within the gulf-stream, dying easily and without a groan, with all my family, neb and the first-mate, assembled near his cot. the only thing that marked his end was a look of singular significance that he cast on my wife, not a minute before he breathed his last. there he lay, the mere vestige of the robust hardy seaman i had once known, a child in physical powers, and about to make the last great change. material as were the alterations in the man, from what he had been when in his pride, i thought the spiritual or intellectual part of his being was less to be recognised than the bodily. certainly that look was full of resignation and hope; and we had reason to believe that this rude but honest creature was spared long enough to complete the primary object of his existence. in obedience to his own earnest request, though sorely against the feelings of my wife and daughters, i buried the body of my old friend in the ocean, six days before we made the land. and now it remains only to speak of lucy. i have deferred this agreeable duty to the last, passing over long years that were pregnant with many changes, in order to conclude with this delightful theme. the first few years of my married life were years of bliss to me. i lived under a constant sense of happiness; a happiness that man can derive only from a union with a woman of whom his reason and principles as much approve, as his tastes and passion cherish. i do not mean to be understood that the years which have succeeded were a whit less happy; for, in a certain sense, they have been more so, and have gone on increasing in happiness down to the present hour, but because time and use finally so far accustomed me to this intimate connection with purity, virtue, female disinterestedness and feminine delicacy, that i should have missed them, as things incorporated with my very existence, had i been suddenly deprived of my wife, quite as much as in the first years of my married life, i enjoyed them as things hitherto unknown to me. as i ride over the fields of clawbonny, even at this day, i recall with tranquil delight, and i trust with humble gratitude, the manner in which those blessed early years of our marriage passed. that was the period when every thought of mine was truly shared by lucy. she accompanied me in my daily rides or drives, and listened to every suggestion that fell from my lips, with kind interest and the most indulgent attention, rendering me back thought for thought, feeling for feeling, laugh for laugh; and, occasionally, tear for tear. not an emotion could become aroused in my breast that it did not meet with its reflection in her's; or a sense of the ludicrous be awakened, that her keen but chastened humour did not increase its effect by sympathy. those were the years in which were planned and executed the largest improvements for the buildings, pleasure-grounds, and fields of clawbonny. we built extensively, not only out-houses and stables better suited to our present means, and more enlarged mode of living, than those which existed in my father's time, but, as has been stated before, we added to the dwelling, preserving its pleasing confusion and irregularity of architecture. after passing the first summer which succeeded our marriage in this manner, i told lucy it was time to stop building and improving my own place, in order that some attention might be bestowed on that she had inherited from mrs. bradfort, and which was also old family property. "do not think of it, miles," she said. "keep riversedge in good order, and no more. rupert," who was then living, and in possession, "will see that nothing goes to waste; but clawbonny, dear clawbonny, is the true home of a wallingford--and i am now a wallingford, you will remember. should this precious boy of ours live to become a man, and marry, the old west-chester property can be used by him, until we are ready to give him up possession, here." this plan has not been literally carried out; for miles, my eldest son, lives with us at clawbonny, in the summer; and his noisy boys are at this moment playing a game of ball in a field that has been expressly devoted to their amusements. the period which succeeded the first half-dozen years of my union with lucy, was not less happy than the first had been; though it assumed a new character. our children then came into the account, not as mere playthings, and little beings to be most tenderly loved and cared for, but as creatures that possess the image of god in their souls, and whose future characters, in a measure, depended on our instruction. the manner in which lucy governed her children, and led them by gentle means to virtue and truth, has always been a subject of the deepest admiration and gratitude with me. her rule has been truly one of love. i do not know that i ever heard her voice raised in anger, to any human being, much less to her own offspring; but whenever reproof has come, it has come in the language of interest and affection, more or less qualified by severity, as circumstances may have required. the result has been all that our fondest hopes could have led us to anticipate. when we travelled, it was with all our young people, and a new era of happiness, heightened by the strongest domestic affection, opened on us. all who have seen the world have experienced the manner in which our intellectual existences, as it might be, expand; but no one, who has not experienced it, can tell the deep, heartfelt satisfaction there is, in receiving this enlargement of the moral creature, in close association with those we love most on earth. the manner in which lucy enjoyed all she saw and learned, on our first visit to the other hemisphere; her youngest child--all four of our children were born within the first eight years of our marriage--her youngest child was then long past its infancy, and she had leisure to enjoy herself, in increasing the happiness of her offspring. she had improved her mind by reading; and her historical lore, in particular, was always ready to be produced for the common advantage. there was no ostentation in this; but everything was produced just as if each had a right to its use. then it was, i felt the immense importance of having a companion, in an intellectual sense, in a wife. lucy had always been intelligent; but i never fully understood her superiority in this respect, until we travelled together, amid the teeming recollections and scenes of the old world. that america is the greatest country of ancient or modern times, i shall not deny. everybody says it; and what everybody says, must be true. nevertheless, i will venture to hint, that, _cæteris paribus_, and where there is the disposition to think at all, the intellectual existence of every american who goes to europe, is more than doubled in its intensity. this is the country of action, not of thought, or speculation. men _follow_ out their facts to results, instead of _reasoning_ them out. then, the multiplicity of objects and events that exist in the old countries to quicken the powers of the mind, has no parallel here. it is owing to this want of the present and the past, which causes the american, the moment he becomes speculative, to run into the future. that future promises much, and, in a degree, may justify the weakness. let us take heed, however, that it do not lead to disappointment. after all, i have found lucy the most dear to me, and the most valuable companion, since we have both passed the age of fifty. air is not more transparent, than her pure mind, and i ever turn to it for counsel, sympathy, and support, with a confidence and reliance that experience could alone justify. as we draw nearer to the close of life, i find my wife gradually loosening the ties of this world, her love for her husband and children excepted, and fastening her looks on a future world. in thus accomplishing, with a truth and nature that are unerringly accurate, the great end of her being, nothing repulsive, nothing that is in the least tinctured with bigotry, and nothing that is even alienated from the affections, or her duties in life, is mingled with her devotion. my family, like its female head, has ever been deeply impressed by religion; but it is religion in its most pleasing aspect; religion that has no taint of puritanism, and in which sin and innocent gaiety are never confounded it is the most cheerful family of my acquaintance; and this, i must implicitly believe, solely because, in addition to the bounties it enjoys, under the blessing of god, it draws the just distinction between those things that the word of god has prohibited, and those which come from the excited and exaggerated feelings of a class of theologians, who, constantly preaching the doctrine of faith, have regulated their moral discipline solely, as if, in their hearts, they placed all their reliance on the efficacy of a school of good works that has had its existence in their own diseased imaginations. i feel the deepest gratitude to lucy for having enstilled the most profound sense of their duties into our children, while they remain totally free from cant, and from those exaggerations and professions which so many mistake for piety of purer emanation. some of my readers may feel a curiosity to know how time has treated us elderly people, for elderly we have certainly become. as for myself, i enjoy a green old age, and i believe look at least ten years younger than i am. this, i attribute to temperance and exercise. lucy was positively an attractive woman until turned of fifty, retaining even a good deal of her bloom down to that period of life. i think her handsome still; and old neb, when in a flattering humour, is apt to speak of either of my daughters as his "handsome young missus," and of my wife as his "handsome ole missus." and why should not lucy hardinge continue to retain many vestiges of those charms which rendered her so lovely in youth? ingenuous, pure of mind, sincere, truthful, placid and just, the soul could scarcely fail to communicate some of its blessed properties to that countenance which even now so sensitively reflects its best impulses. i repeat, lucy is still handsome, and in my eyes even her charming daughters are less fair. that she has so long been, and is still my wife, forms not only the delight but the pride of my life. it is a blessing, for which, i am not ashamed to say, i daily render thanks to god, on my knees. the end. none newton forster, or the merchant service, by captain marryat. ________________________________________________________________________ captain frederick marryat was born july , and died august . he retired from the british navy in in order to devote himself to writing. in the following years he wrote books, many of which are among the very best of english literature, and some of which are still in print. marryat had an extraordinary gift for the invention of episodes in his stories. he says somewhere that when he sat down for the day's work, he never knew what he was going to write. he certainly was a literary genius. "newton forster" was published in , the third book to flow from marryat's pen. it was the first of his nautical books in which the hero is not in the royal navy. this e-text was transcribed in by nick hodson, and was reformatted in . ________________________________________________________________________ newton forster, or the merchant service, by captain frederick marryat. volume one, chapter one. and what is this _new_ book the whole world makes such a rout about?-- oh! 'tis out of all plumb, my lord,--quite an irregular thing; not one of the angles at the four corners was a right angle. i had my rule and compasses, my lord, in my pocket.--excellent critic! grant me patience, just heaven! of all the cants which are canted in this canting world--though the cant of hypocrites may be the worst, the cant of criticism is the most tormenting! sterne. what authors in general may feel upon the subject i know not, but i have discovered, since i so rashly took up my pen, that there are three portions of a novel which are extremely difficult to arrange to the satisfaction of a fastidious public. the first is the beginning, the second the middle, and the third is the end. the painter who, in times of yore, exposed his canvass to universal criticism, and found to his mortification that there was not a particle of his composition which had not been pronounced defective by one pseudo-critic or another, did not receive severer castigation than i have experienced from the _unsolicited_ remarks of "damned good-natured friends." "i like your first and second volume," said a tall, long-chinned, short-sighted blue, dressed in yellow, peering into my face, as if her eyes were magnifying glasses, and she was obtaining the true focus of vision, "but you fall off in your last, which is all about that _nasty_ line-of-battle ship." "i don't like your plot, sir," brawls out in a stentorian voice an elderly gentleman; "i don't like your plot, sir," repeated he with an air of authority, which he had long assumed, from supposing because people would not be at the trouble of contradicting his opinions, that they were incontrovertible--"there is nothing but death." "death, my dear sir," replied i, as if i was hailing the look-out man at the mast-head, and hoping to soften him with my intentional bull; "is not death, sir, a true picture of human life?" "ay, ay," growled he, either not hearing or not _taking_; "it's all very well, but--there's too much killing in it." "in a novel, sir, killing's no murder, you surely will admit; and you must also allow something for professional feeling--`'tis my occupation;' and after five-and-twenty years of constant practice, whether i wield the sword or the pen, the force of habit--" "it won't do, sir," interrupted he; "the public don't like it. otherwise," continued this hyper-critic, softening a little, "some of the chapters are amusing, and on the whole, it may be said to be rather--that is--not unpleasantly written." "i like your first and third volume, but not your second," squeaked out _something_ intended to have been a woman, with shoulder-blades and collar-bones, as de ville would say, most strongly developed. "well now, i don't exactly agree with you, my dear miss pegoo; i think the second and third volumes are by far the most _readable_," exclaimed _another thing_, perched upon a chair, with her feet dangling halfway between her seat and the carpet. "if i might presume upon my long-standing in the service, captain ---," said a pompous general officer,--whose back appeared to have been _fished_ with the kitchen poker--"if i might venture to offer you advice," continued he, leading me paternally by the arm a little on one side, "it would be, not again to attempt a defence of smuggling: i consider, sir, that as an officer in his majesty's service, you have strangely committed yourself." "it is not my defence, sir: they are the arguments of a smuggler." "you wrote the book, sir," replied he, sharply; "i can assure you, that i should not be surprised if the admiralty took notice of it." "indeed, sir," replied i, with assumed alarm. i received no answer, except a most significant nod of the head, as he walked away. but i have not yet arrived at the climax, which made me inclined to exclaim with the expiring lion in the fable-- a midshipman--yes, reader, a midshipman--who had formerly belonged to my ship, and had trembled at my frown, ranged up alongside of me, and with a supercilious air, observed-- "i have read your book, and--there are _one_ or _two_ good things in it." hear this, admirals and captains on half-pay! hear this, port-admirals and captains afloat! i have often heard that the service was deteriorating, going to the devil, but i never became a convert to the opinion before. gracious heaven! what a revengeful feeling is there in the exclamation "o that mine adversary had _written a book_!" to be snarled at, and bow-wowed at, in this manner, by those who find fault, because their intellect is not sufficient to enable them to appreciate! authors, take my resolution; which is, never to show your face until your work has passed through the ordeal of the reviews.--keep your room for the month after your literary labour. reviews are like jesuit father confessors-- guiding the opinions of the multitude, who blindly follow the suggestions of those to whom they may have entrusted their literary consciences. if your work is denounced and damned, still you will be the gainer; for is it not better to be released at once from your sufferings, by one blow from the paw of a tiger, than to be worried piecemeal by creatures who have all the will, but not the power, to inflict the _coup de grace_? the author of "cloudesley," enumerating the qualifications necessary to a writer of fiction, observes, "when he introduces his ideal personage to the public, he enters upon his task with a preconception of the qualities that belong to this being, the principle of his actions, and its necessary concomitants, etcetera, etcetera." that such preparation ought to be made, i will not deny; but were i to attempt an adherence to these rules, the public would never be troubled with any production of mine. it would be too tedious a journey in prospective for my wayward intellect; and if i calculated stages before i ordered my horses, i should abandon the attempt, and remain quietly at home. mine is not a journey of that methodical description; on the contrary, it is a ramble hand-in-hand with fancy, with a light heart and a lighter baggage; for my whole wallet, when i set off, contains but one single idea--but ideas are hermaphrodite, and these creatures of the brain are most prolific. to speak more intelligibly, i never have made any arrangement of plot when i commenced a work of fiction, and often finish a chapter without having the slightest idea of what materials the ensuing one is to be constructed. at times i feel so tired that i throw down the pen in despair; but it is soon taken up again, and, like a pigmy antaeus, it seems to have imbibed fresh vigour from its prostration. i remember when the "king's own" was finished, i was as happy as a pedestrian who had accomplished his thousand miles in a thousand hours. my voluntary slavery was over, and i was emancipated. where was i then? i recollect; within two days' sail of the lizard, returning home, after a six weeks' cruise to discover a rock in the atlantic, which never existed except in the terrified or intoxicated noddle of some master of a merchant vessel. it was about half-past five in the evening, and i was alone in my after-cabin, quite alone, as the captain of a man-of-war must be, even when in presence of his ship's company. if being sent to sea has been pronounced by the officers and men to be _transportation_, being the captain of the ship may truly be designated as _solitary confinement_. i could not send for any one to whom i could impart the intelligence-- there was no one whom i could expect to sympathise with me, or to whom i could pour out the abundance of my joy; for that the service prohibited. what could i do? why i could dance; so i sprung from my chair, and singing the tune, commenced a quadrille movement,--"tal de ral la, tal de ral la, lity, lity, lity, liddle-um, tal de ral ha, tal--" "three bells, sir," cried the first lieutenant, who had opened my door unperceived by me, and showed evident surprise at my motions; "shall we beat to quarters?"--"certainly, mr b---," replied i; and he disappeared. but this interruption produced only a temporary cessation: i was in the height of "cavalier seul," when his head popped into the cabin-- "all present, and sober, sir," reported he, with a demure smile. "except the captain, i presume you are thinking," replied i. "oh! no indeed, sir; i observed that you were very merry." "i am, mr b---, but not with wine; mine is a sort of intellectual intoxication not provided for in the articles of war." "a what! sir?" "oh! something that you'll never get drunk upon, as you never look into a book--beat a retreat." "ay, ay, sir," replied the first-lieutenant; and he disappeared. and i also beat a retreat to my sofa; and as i threw myself upon it, mentally vowed that, for two months at the least, i never would take up a pen. but we seldom make a vow which we do not eventually break; and the reason is obvious. we vow only when hurried into excesses; we are alarmed at the dominion which has been acquired over us by our feelings or by our habits. checked for a time by an adherence to our resolutions, they gradually recover their former strength, until they again break forth, and we yield to their overpowering influence. a few days after i had made the resolution, i found myself, like the sailor, _rewarding_ it, by writing more indefatigably than ever. so now, reader, you may understand that i continue to write, as tony lumpkin says--not to please my good-natured friends, "but because i can't bear to disappoint myself;" for that which i commenced as an amusement, and continued as a drudgery, has ended in becoming a _confirmed habit_. so much for the overture. now let us draw up the curtain, and our actors shall appear upon the stage. volume one, chapter two. boldly i venture on a naval scene, nor fear the critics' frown, the pedants' spleen. sons of the ocean, we their rules disdain. hark!--a shock tears her strong bottom on the marble rock. down on the vale of death, with dismal cries, the fated victims shuddering, roll their eyes in wild despair--while yet another stroke with deep convulsion rends the solid oak, till like the mine in whose infernal cell the lurking demons of destruction dwell, at length asunder-torn, her frame divides, and crashing, spreads in ruin o'er the tides. falconer. it was in the dreary month of fog, misanthropy, and suicide--the month during which heaven receives a scantier tribute of gratitude from discontented man--during which the sun rises, but shines not--gives forth an unwilling light, but glads us not with his cheerful rays-- during which large tallow candles assist the merchant to calculate his gains or to philosophise over his losses--in short, it was one evening in the month of november of the year ---, that edward forster, who had served many years in his majesty's navy, was seated in a snug arm-chair, in a snug parlour, in a snug cottage to which he had retired upon his half-pay, in consequence of a severe wound which had, for many years, healed but to break out again each succeeding spring. the locality of the cottage was not exactly so snug as it has been described in itself, and its interior; for it was situated on a hill which terminated at a short distance in a precipitous clift, beetling over that portion of the atlantic which lashes the shores of cumberland under the sub-denomination of the irish sea. but forster had been all his early life a sailor, and still felt the same pleasure in listening to the moaning and whistling of the wind, as it rattled the shutters of his cottage (like some importunate who would gain admittance), as he used to experience when, lying in his hammock, he was awakened by the howling of the blast, and shrouding himself in his blankets to resume his nap, rejoiced that he was not exposed to its fury. his finances did not allow him to indulge in luxuries, and the distillation of the country was substituted for wine. with his feet upon the fender, and his glass of whisky-toddy at his side, he had been led into a train of thought by the book which he had been reading; some passage of which had recalled to his memory scenes that had long passed away--the scenes of youth and hope--the happy castle-building of the fresh in heart, invariably overthrown by time and disappointment. the night was tempestuous; the rain now pattered loud, then ceased as if it had fed the wind, which renewed its violence, and forced its way through every crevice. the carpet of his little room occasionally rose from the floor, swelled up by the insidious entrance of the searching blast; the solitary candle, which from neglect had not only elongated its wick to an unusual extent, but had formed a sort of mushroom top, was every moment in danger of extinction, while the chintz curtains of the window waved solemnly to and fro. but the deep reverie of edward forster was suddenly disturbed by the report of a gun swept to leeward by the impetuosity of the gale, which hurled it with violence against the door and front windows of his cottage, for some moments causing them to vibrate with the concussion. forster started up, dropping his book upon the hearth, and jerking the table with his elbow, so as to dash out the larger proportion of the contents of his tumbler. the sooty coronal of the wick also fell with the shock, and the candle, relieved from its burden, poured forth a brighter gleam. "lord ha' mercy, mr forster; did you hear that noise?" cried the old housekeeper (the only inhabitant of the cottage except himself), as she bolted into the room, holding her apron in both hands. "i did, indeed, mrs beazeley," replied forster; "it's the signal of a vessel in distress, and she must be on a dead lee-shore. give me my hat!" and draining off the remainder in his tumbler, while the old lady reached his hat off a peg in the passage, he darted out from the door of his tenement. the door, which faced to seaward, flew open with violence, as forster disappeared in the darkness of the night. the old housekeeper, on whom had devolved the task of securing it, found it no easy matter; and the rain, blown in by the sweeping gale, proved an effectual and unwelcome shower-bath to one who complained bitterly of the rheumatics. at last her object was accomplished, and she repaired to the parlour to re-light the candle which had been extinguished, and await the return of her master. after sundry ejaculations and sundry wonders, she took possession of his arm-chair, poked the fire, and helped herself to a glass of whisky-toddy. as soon as her clothes and her tumbler were again dry, she announced by loud snores that she was in a happy state of oblivion; in which we shall leave her, to follow the motions of edward forster. it was about seven o'clock in the evening, when forster thus exposed himself to the inclemency of the weather. but a few weeks before how beautiful were the evenings at this hour; the sun disappearing beyond the distant wave, and leaving a portion of his glory behind him until the stars, in obedience to the divine fiat, were lighted up to "shine by night;" the sea rippling on the sand, or pouring into the crevices of the rocks, changing its hue, as daylight slowly disappeared, to the more sombre colours it reflected, from azure to each deeper tint of grey, until darkness closed in, and its extent was scarcely to be defined by the horizontal line. now all was changed, the roaring of the wind and the hoarse beating of the waves upon the streaming rocks deafened the ears of edward forster. the rain and spray were hurled in his face, as, with both hands, he secured his hat upon his head; and the night was so intensely dark, that but occasionally he could distinguish the broad belt of foam with which the coast was lined. still forster forced his way towards the beach, which it is now requisite that we should more particularly describe. as we before observed, the cottage was built upon a high land, which terminated in a precipitous clift about two hundred yards distant, and running in a direct line to the westward. to the northward, the coast for miles was one continual line of rocky clifts, affording no chance of life to those who might be dashed upon them; but to the southward of the clift which formed the promontory opposite to forster's cottage, and which terminated the range, there was a deep indent in the line of coast, forming a sandy and nearly land-locked bay, small indeed, but so sheltered that any vessel which could run in might remain there in safety until the gale was spent. its only occupant was a fisherman, who, with his family, lived in a small cottage on the beach. he was an ally of forster, who had intrusted to his charge a skiff, in which, during the summer months, he often whiled away his time. it was to this cottage that forster bent his way, and loudly knocked when he arrived. "robertson--i say, robertson," called forster, at the full compass of his voice. "he is not here, mr forster," answered jane, the wife of the fisherman; "he is out, looking for the vessel." "which way did he go?" before an answer could be returned, robertson himself appeared. "i'm here, mr forster," said he, taking off his fur cap, and squeezing out with both hands the water with which it was loaded; "but i can't see the vessel." "still, by the report of the gun, she must be close to the shore.--get some fagots out from the shed, and light as large a fire as you can; don't spare them, my good fellow; i will pay you." "that i'll do, sir, and without pay; i only hope that they'll understand the signal, and lay her on shore in the cove. there's another gun!" this second report, so much louder than the former, indicated that the vessel had rapidly neared the land; and the direction from which the report came, proved that she must be close to the promontory of rocks. "be smart, my dear fellow; be smart," cried forster. "i will go up to the clift, and try if i can make her out;" and the parties separated upon their mutual work of sympathy and good will. it was not without danger, as well as difficulty, that forster succeeded in his attempt; and when he arrived at the summit, a violent gust of wind would have thrown him off his legs, had he not sunk down upon his knees and clung to the herbage, losing his hat, which was borne far away to leeward. in this position, drenched with the rain and shivering with the cold, he remained some minutes, attempting in vain, with straining eyes, to pierce through the gloom of the night, when a flash of lightning, which darted from the zenith and continued its eccentric career until it was lost behind the horizon, discovered to him the object of his research. but a few moments did he behold it, and then, from the sudden contrast, a film appeared to swim over his aching eyes, and all was more intensely, more horribly dark than before; but to the eye of a seafaring man, this short view was sufficient. he perceived that it was a large ship, within a quarter of a mile of the land, pressed gunnel under with her reefed courses, chopping through the heavy seas--now pointing her bowsprit to the heavens, as she rose over the impeding swell; now plunging deep into the trough encircled by the foam raised by her own exertions, like some huge monster of the deep, struggling in her toils, and lashing the seas around in her violent efforts to escape. the fire burnt up fiercely in the cove, in defiance of the rain and wind, which, after in vain attempting to destroy it in its birth, now seemed to assist it with their violence. "she may yet be saved," thought forster, "if she will only carry on--two cables' lengths more, and she will be clear of the point." again and again was the vessel momentarily presented to his view, as the forked lightning darted in every quarter of the firmament, while the astounding claps of thunder bursting upon his ears before the lightning had ceased to gleam, announced to him that he was kneeling in the very centre of the war of the elements. the vessel reared the clift in about the same proportion that she forged ahead. forster was breathless with anxiety, for the last flash of electricity revealed to him that two moments more would decide her fate. the gale now redoubled its fury, and forster was obliged to cling for his existence as he sank, from his kneeling posture, flat upon the wet herbage. still he had approached so near to the edge of the clift that his view below was not interrupted by his change of posture--another flash of lightning.--it was enough! "god have mercy on their souls!" cried he, dropping his face upon the ground as if to shut out the horrid vision from his sight. he had beheld the vessel within the surf, but a few yards distant from the outer rocks, thrown on her beam-ends, with both foresail and mainsail blown clear out of their bolt-ropes. the cry for succour was raised in vain; the wail of despair was not heard; the struggles for life were not beheld, as the elements in their wrath roared and howled over their victim. as if satiated with its devastation, from that moment the storm gradually abated, and forster taking advantage of a lull, slowly descended to the cove, where he found robertson still heaping fuel on the fire. "save your wood, my good fellow; it's all over with her; and those who were on board are in eternity at this moment," said forster, in a melancholy tone. "is she gone then, sir?" "right on the outer ledge; there's not a living soul to see your beacon." "god's will be done!" replied the fisherman; "then their time was come-- but he who destroys, can save if he pleases; i'll not put out the fire, while there's a fagot left, for you know, mr forster, that if any one should by a miracle be thrown into the smooth water on this side of the point, he might be saved; that is, if he swam well:"--and robertson threw on more fagots, which soon flared up with a brilliant light. the fisherman returned to the cottage to procure for forster a red woollen cap in lieu of the hat which he had lost; and they both sat down close to the fire to warm themselves, and to dry their streaming clothes. robertson had once more replenished the fuel, and the vivid blaze glared along the water in the cove, when the eye of forster was attracted by the appearance of something floating on the wave, and evidently nearing to the shore. he pointed it out to the fisherman, and they descended to the water's edge, awaiting its approach with intense anxiety. "it's not a man, sir, is it?" observed robertson, after a minute's pause. "i cannot make it out," replied forster; "but i rather think that it is an animal--something living, most assuredly." in another minute or two the point was decided; they distinguished a large dog bearing something white in its mouth, and making for the shore where they were standing. calling to the poor beast to cheer him, for he evidently was much exhausted and approached but slowly, they soon had the satisfaction of seeing him pass through the surf, which, even at this time, was not heavy in the cove, and, with the water pouring from his shaggy coat, stagger towards them, bearing in his mouth his burden, which he laid down at forster's feet, and then shook off the accumulation of moisture from his skin. forster took up the object of the animal's solicitude--it was the body of an infant, apparently a few months old. "poor thing!" cried forster, mournfully. "it's quite dead, sir," observed the fisherman. "i am afraid so," replied forster, "but it cannot have been so long; the dog evidently bore it up clear of the water until it came into the surf. who knows but we might restore it?" "if any thing will restore it, sir, it will be the warmth of woman's breast, to which it hitherto hath clung--jane shall take it in her bed between her and the little ones;" and the fisherman entered the hut with the child, which was undressed, and received by his wife with all the sympathy which maternal feelings create, even towards the offspring of others. to the delight of forster, in a quarter of an hour robertson came out of the cottage with the intelligence that the child had moved and cried a little, and that there was every chance of its recovery. "it's a beautiful little girl, sir, jane says; and if it lives, she will halve her milk between it and our little tommy." forster remained another half-hour, until he had ascertained that the child had taken the breast and had fallen asleep. congratulating himself at having been the means of saving even one little life out of the many which, in all probability had been swallowed up, he called to the dog, who had remained passive by the fire, and rose up to return home; but the dog retreated to the door of the cottage into which he had seen the infant carried, and all attempts to coax him away were fruitless. forster summoned robertson, to whom he gave some further directions, and then returned to his home, where, on his arrival, his old housekeeper, who had never been awakened from her sound nap until roused by his knocking at the door, scolded him not a little for being out in such tempestuous weather, and a great deal more for having obliged her to sit up and _watch_ all night until his return. volume one, chapter three. creation smiles around; on every spray the warbling birds exalt their evening lay: blithe skipping o'er you hill, the fleecy train join the deep chorus of the lowing plain: the glassy ocean hush'd forgets to roar, but trembling murmurs on the sandy shore. falconer. forster was soon fast asleep after his night of exertion: his dreams were confused and wild; but i seldom trouble people about dreams, which are as nought. when reason descends from her throne, and seeks a transitory respite from her labour, fancy usurps the vacant seat, and in pretended majesty, would fain exert her sister's various powers. these she enacts to the best of her ability, and with about the same success as attends a monkey when he attempts the several operations connected with the mystery of shaving:--and thus ends a very short and conclusive dissertation upon dreams. but, to use a nautical phrase, we must "heave to" in our narrative awhile, as it is necessary that we should enter a little more into the previous history of edward forster; which we can now do without interruption, as the parties we have introduced to the reader are all asleep. the father of edward forster was a clergyman, who, notwithstanding he could reckon up some twenty or thirty first, second, and third cousins with high-sounding titles, officiated as curate in a district not far from that part of the country where forster at present was located. he was one of the bees of the church, who are constantly toiling, while the drones are eating up the honey. he preached three sermons, and read three services, at three different stations every sunday throughout the year; while he christened, married, and buried a population extending over some thousands of square acres, for the scanty stipend of one hundred per annum. soon after he was in possession of his curacy he married a young woman, who brought him beauty and modesty as her dower, and subsequently pledges of mutual love _ad lib_. but he that giveth, taketh away; and out of nearly a score of these interesting but expensive presents to her husband, only three, all of the masculine gender, arrived at years of maturity. john (or jock, as he usually was called), who was the eldest, was despatched to london, where he studied the law under a relation; who, perceiving that mrs forster's annual presentation _of_ the living was not followed up by any presentation _to_ the living, kindly took charge of, and received him into his own house. jock was a hard-headed fellow, studied with great diligence, and retained what he read, although he did not read fast; but that which he lost in speed he made up by perseverance, and had now, entirely by his own exertions, risen to considerable eminence in his profession; but he had been severed from his family in early days, and had never been able to return to them. he heard, indeed, of the birth of sundry brothers and sisters; of their deaths; and lastly, of the demise of his parents, the only communication which affected him; for he loved his father and mother, and was anticipating the period when he might possess the means of rendering them more comfortable. but all this had long passed away. he was now a bachelor past fifty, bearish and uncouth in his appearance, and ungracious in his deportment. secluded in his chambers, poring over the dry technicalities of his profession, he had divided the moral world into two parts--honest and dishonest, lawful and unlawful. all other feelings and affections, if he had them, were buried, and had never been raised to the surface. at the time we speak of he continued his laborious, yet lucrative, profession, toiling in his harness like a horse in a mill, heaping up riches, knowing not who should gather them; not from avarice, but from long habit, which rendered his profession not only his pleasure, but essential to his very existence. edward forster had not seen him for nearly twenty years; the last time was when he passed through london upon his retirement from the service. indeed, as they never corresponded (for there was nothing common between them), it is a matter of doubt whether jock was exactly aware which of his brothers remained alive; and had it been a subject of interest, he would, in all probability, have referred to the former letters of his father and mother, as legal documents, to ascertain who was remaining of his kin. the next surviving son was _yclept_ (there's something very _consonant_ in that word) nicholas. the reverend mr forster, who had no inheritance to bequeath to his family except a _good name_, which although better than _riches_, will not always procure for a man one penny loaf, naturally watched for any peculiar symptoms of genius in his children which might designate one of the various paths to wealth and fame, by which it would be most easy for the individual to ascend. now it did occur that when nicholas was yet in womanish attire, he showed a great partiality to a burning-glass, with which he contrived to do much mischief. he would burn the dog's nose as he slept in the sun before the door. his mother's gown showed proofs of his genius by sundry little round holes, which were considerably increased each time that it returned from the wash. nay, heretical and damnable as is the fact, his father's surplice was as a moth-eaten garment from the repeated and insidious attacks of this young philosopher. the burning-glass decided his fate. he was bound apprentice to an optical and mathematical instrument maker; from which situation he was, if possible, to emerge into the highest grade of the profession; but, somehow or another, a want of ambition or of talent did not permit him to ascend the scale, and he now kept a shop in the small seaport town of overton, where he repaired damaged articles of science--a watch one day, a quadrant or a compass another; but his chief employment and his chief forte lay in telescopes; and accordingly, a large board, with "nicholas forster, optician," surmounted the small shop window, at which he was invariably to be seen at his employment. he was an eccentric person, one of those who had narrowly escaped being clever; but there was an obliquity in his mind which would not admit of lucid order and arrangement. in the small town where he resided, he continued to pick up a decent sustenance; for he had no competitor, and was looked upon as a man of considerable ability. he was the only one of three brothers who had ventured upon wedlock. but of this part of our history we shall at present say no more than that he had an only child, and had married his wife, to use his own expression, because she _suited his focus_. edward forster the youngest, whom we have already introduced to the reader, showed strong nautical propensities; he swam nut-shells in a puddle, and sent pieces of lath with paper sails floating down the brook which gurgled by the parsonage. this was circumstantial evidence: he was convicted, and ordered off to sea, to return a nelson. for his conduct during the time he served her, edward forster certainly deserved well of his country, and had he been enabled to continue in his profession, would in all probability have risen by his merit to its highest grades; but having served his time as midshipman, he received a desperate wound in "cutting out," and shortly after obtained his promotion to the rank of lieutenant for his gallant conduct. his wound was of that severe description that he was obliged to quit the service, and, for a time, retire upon his half pay. for many years, he looked forward to the period when he could resume his career:--but in vain; the wound broke out again and again; fresh splinters of the bone continually worked out, and he was doomed to constant disappointment. at last it healed; but years of suffering had quenched the ardour of youth, and when he did apply for employment, his services had been forgotten. he received a cool negative, almost consonant to his wishes: and returned, without feeling mortified, to the cottage we have described, where he lived a secluded yet not an unhappy life. his wants were few, and his half pay more than adequate to supply them. a happy contemplative indolence, arising from a well cultivated mind, feeding rather upon its previous acquirements, than adding to its store--an equanimity of disposition, and a habit of rigid self-command--were the characteristics of edward forster; whom i shall now awaken, that we may proceed with our narrative. "well, i do declare, mr forster, you have had a famous nap," cried mrs beazeley, in a tone of voice so loud as to put an immediate end to his slumber, as she entered his room with some hot water to assist him in that masculine operation, the diurnal painful return of which has been considered to be more than tantamount in suffering to the occasional `pleasing punishment which women bear,' although this cannot be proved until ladies are endowed with beards, (which heaven forfend!) or some modern tiresias shall appear to decide the point, the assertion appears to be borne out, if we reason by analogy from human life; where we find that it is not the heavy blow of sudden misfortune tripping the ladder of our ambition and laying us prostrate, which constitutes life's intermittent "fitful fever;" but the thousand petty vexations of hourly occurrence.--we return to mrs beazeley, who continued--"why, it's nine o'clock, mr forster, and a nice fresh morning it is too, after last night's tempest. and pray what did you hear and see, sir?" continued the old woman, opening the shutters, and admitting a blaze of sunshine, as if determined that at all events he should now both _hear_ and _see_. "i'll tell you all, mrs beazeley, when i am dressed. let me have my breakfast as soon as you can, for i must be off again to the cove. i did not intend to have slept so late." "why, what's in the wind now, mr forster?" said the old lady, borrowing one of his nautical phrases. "if you wish to know, mrs beazeley, the sooner you allow me to get out of bed, the sooner i shall be able to give you the information you require." "but what made you stay out so late, mr forster?" continued the housekeeper, who seemed determined, if possible, to have a little information _en attendant_, to stay her appetite until her curiosity could obtain a more substantial repast. "i am sorry to say, there was a vessel wrecked." "o dear! o dear! any lives lost?" "all, i am afraid, except one, and even that is doubtful." "o lord! o lord! do, pray, mr forster, tell me all about it." "as soon as i am dressed, mrs beazeley," replied mr forster, making a movement indicative that he was about to "_turn out," whether or no_, and which occasioned mrs beazeley to make a hasty retreat. in a few minutes forster made his appearance in the parlour, where he found both the kettle and the housekeeper boiling with impatience. he commenced eating and narrating until the respective appetites of mrs beazeley and himself were equally appeased, and then set off for the abode of robertson, to ascertain the fate of the infant. how different was the scene from that of the night before! the sea was still in commotion, and as the bright sun shone upon its agitated surface, gilding the summits of the waves, although there was majesty and beauty in the appearance, there was nought to excite terror. the atmosphere, purified by the warfare of the elements, was fresh and bracing. the short verdure which covered the promontory and hills adjacent, was of a more brilliant green, and seemed as if to bask in the sun after the cleansing it had received from the heavy rain; while the sheep (for the coast was one extended sheep-walk) studded the sides of the hills, their white fleeces in strong, yet beautiful contrast, with the deep verdure of nature. the smooth water of the cove, in opposition to the vexed billows of the unsheltered ocean; the murmuring of the light waves, running in long and gently curved lines to their repose upon the yellow sand; their surface occasionally rippled by the eddying breeze as it swept along; his own little skiff safe at her moorings, undulating with the swell; the sea-gulls, who but a few hours ago were screaming with dismay as they buffeted against the fury of the gale, now skimming on the waves, or balanced on the wing near to their inaccessible retreats; the carolling of the smaller birds on every side of him, produced a lightness of heart and quickened pulse, to which edward forster had latterly been a stranger. he soon arrived at the cottage, where the sound of his footsteps brought out the fisherman and his wife, the latter bearing in her arms the little object of his solicitude. "see, mr forster," said jane, holding out the infant, "it's quite well and hearty, and does nothing but smile. what a lovely babe it is!" forster looked at the child, who smiled, as if in gratitude; but his attention was called away by the newfoundland dog, who fawned upon him, and after having received his caresses, squatted down upon the sand, which he beat with his tail as he looked wistfully in forster's face. forster took the child from the arms of its new mother. "thou hast had a narrow escape, poor thing," said he, and his countenance assumed a melancholy cast as the idea floated in his mind. "who knows how many more perils may await thee? who can say whether thou art to be restored to the arms of thy relatives, or be left an orphan to a sailor's care? whether it had not been better that the waves should have swallowed thee in thy purity, than thou shouldest be exposed to a heartless world of sorrow and of crime? but he who willed thee to be saved knows best for us who are in darkness;" and forster kissed its brow, and returned it to the arms of jane. having made a few arrangements with robertson and his wife, in whose care he resolved at present to leave the child, forster bent his steps towards the promontory, that he might ascertain if any part of the vessel remained. stretching over the summit of the cliff, he perceived that several of the lower futtocks and timbers still hung together, and showed themselves above water. anxious to obtain some clue to her identity, he prepared to descend by a winding and hazardous path which he had before surmounted. in a quarter of an hour he had gained a position close to the wreck; but, with the exception of the shattered remnant which was firmly wedged between the rocks, there was nothing to be seen; not a fragment of her masts and spars, or sails, not a relic of what was once life remained. the tide, which ran furiously round the promontory, had swept them all away, or the _undertow_ of the deep water had buried every detached particle, to be delivered up again, "far, far at sea." all that forster could ascertain was, that the vessel was foreign built, and of large tonnage; but who were its unfortunate tenants, or what the cargo, of which she had been despoiled by the devouring waves, was not even to be surmised. the linen on the child was marked j de f; and this was the only clue which remained for its identity. for more than an hour did forster remain fixed as a statue upon the rock, where he had taken his station with arms folded, while he contemplated the hoarse waves, dashing against the bends, or dividing as they poured themselves between the timbers of the vessel, and he sunk into deep and melancholy thought. and where is the object exciting more serious reflection than a _wreck_? the pride and ingenuity of man humbled and overcome; the elements of the lord occupying the fabric which had set them at defiance; tossing, tumbling, and dancing, as if in mockery at their success! the structure, but a few hours past, as perfect as human intellect could devise, towering with its proud canvass over space, and bearing man to greet his fellow-man, over the _surface of death_!--dashing the billow from her stem, as if in scorn, while she pursued her trackless way-- bearing tidings of peace and security, of war and devastation--tidings of joy or grief, affecting whole kingdoms and empires, as if they were but individuals! now, the waters delight in their revenge, and sparkle with joy, as the sun shines upon their victory. that keel, which, with the sharpness of a scythe, has so often mowed its course through the reluctant wave, is now buried;--buried deep in the sand, which the angry surge accumulates each minute, as if determined that it never will be subject to its weight again. how many seasons had rolled away, how many millions had returned to the dust from which they sprung, before the kernels had swelled into the forest giants levelled for that structure;--what labour had been undergone to complete the task;--how many of the existent race found employment and subsistence as they slowly raised that monument of human skill;--how often had the weary miner laid aside his tool to wipe his sweating brow, before the metals required for the completion had been brought from darkness;--what thousands had been employed before it was prepared and ready for its destined use! yon copper bolt, twisted with a force not human, and raised above the waters, as if in evidence of their dreadful power, may contain a history in itself. how many of her own structure must have been employed, bringing from the north, the south, the east, and the west: her masts, her spars, her "_hempen tackle_," and her canvass wings; her equipment in all its variety; her stores for the support of life; her magazines of _quiescent death_. and they who so fearlessly trod her decks, conscious of their own powers, and confident in their own skill; they who expanded her thousands of yards of canvass to the pursuing breeze, or reduced them, like magic, at the approaching storm--where are they now? how many sighs have been lavished at their absence! how many hearths would have been gladdened by their return! where are the hopes, the fears, the ambition, and the pride; the courage and the enterprise; the love and the yearnings after their kin; the speculations of the present, and the calculations of the future, which occupied their minds, or were cherished in their bosoms? all--all _wrecked_! days, weeks, and months rolled away; yet every step that could be taken to find out the name of the vessel proved unavailing. although the conjectures of forster, that she was one of the many foreign west indiamen which had met with a similar fate during that tempestuous winter, was probably correct; still no clue could be gathered by which the parentage of the little girl could be ascertained, the linen was indeed marked with initials; but this circumstance offered but a faint prospect of discovery. either her relations, convinced of her loss made no inquiries, or the name of the vessel in which she had been a passenger was not known to them. the child had been weaned, and removed to the cottage, where it occupied much of the attention of the old housekeeper and forster, who, despairing of its ever being reclaimed, determined to bring it up as his own. mrs beazeley, the housekeeper, was a good-tempered woman, long passed the grand climacteric, and strongly attached to forster, with whom she had resided many years. but, like all women, whether married or single, who have the responsibility of a household, she would have her own way; and scolded her master with as little ceremony as if she had been united to him by matrimonial bonds. to this forster quietly submitted: he had lived long enough to be aware that people are not the happiest who are not under control, and was philosopher sufficient to submit to the penal code of matrimony without tasting its enjoyments, the arrival of the infant made him more than ever feel as if he were a married man; for he had all the delights of the nursery in addition to his previous discipline. but, although bound by no ties, he found himself happier. he soon played with the infant, and submitted to his housekeeper with all the docility of a well-trained married man. the newfoundland dog, who, although (like some of his betters) he did not change his name _for_ a fortune, did, in all probability, change it _with_ his fortune, soon answered to the deserved epithet of faithful, and slept at the foot of the crib of his little mistress, who also was to be rechristened. "she is a treasure, which has been thrown up by the ocean," said forster, kissing the lovely infant. "let her name be _amber_." but we must leave her to bud forth in her innocence and her purity, while we direct the attention of the reader to other scenes, which are contemporary with those we have described. volume one, chapter four. a woman moved is like a fountain troubled, muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; and while 'tis so, none so dry or thirsty will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it. shakespeare. a man may purchase an estate, a tenement, or a horse because they have pleased his fancy, and eventually find out that he has not exactly suited himself; and it sometimes will occur that a man is placed in a similar situation relative to his choice of a wife: a more serious evil; as, although the prime cost may be nothing, there is no chance of getting rid of this latter speculation by re-vending, as you may the former. now it happened that nicholas forster, of whom we have already made slight mention, although he considered at the time of his marriage that the person he had selected would _exactly suit his focus_, did eventually discover that he was more short-sighted in his choice than an optician ought to have been. whatever may have been the personal charms of mrs nicholas forster at the time of their union, she had, at the period of our narrative, but few to boast of, being a thin, sharp-nosed, ferret-eyed, little woman, teeming with suspicion, jealousy, and bad humours of every description: her whole employment (we may say, her whole delight) was in finding fault: her shrill voice was to be heard from the other side of the street from morning until night. the one servant which their finances enabled them with difficulty to retain, and whom they engaged as the maid of all work (and certainly she was not permitted by mrs forster to be idle in her multifarious duty), seldom remained above her _month_; and nothing but the prospect of immediate starvation could induce any one to offer herself in that capacity. mr nicholas forster, fortunately for his own happiness, was of that peculiar temperament, that nothing could completely rouse his anger; he was _absent_ to an excess; and if any language or behaviour on the part of his wife induced his choler to rise, other ideas would efface the cause from his memory; and this hydra of the human bosom, missing the object of its intended attack, again laid down to rest. the violence and vituperation of his spouse were, therefore, lost upon nicholas forster; and the impossibility of disturbing the equanimity of his temper increased the irritability of her own. still mr nicholas forster, when he did reflect upon the subject, which was but during momentary fits of recollection, could not help acknowledging that he should be much more quiet and happy when it pleased heaven to summon mrs forster to a better world: and this idea ultimately took possession of his imagination. her constant turbulence interfered so much with the prosecution of his plans, that, finding it impossible to carry them into execution, every thing that he considered of moment was mentally put off until _mrs forster was dead_! "well, mr forster, how long is the dinner to wait before you think proper to come? every thing will be cold as usual."--(n.b., the dinner consisted of the remains of a cold shoulder of mutton.)--"or do you mean to have any dinner at all? betty, clear away the table; i have my work to do, and won't wait any longer." "i'm coming, my dear, i'm coming; only this balance spring is a job that i cannot well leave," replied nicholas, continuing his vocation in the shop, with a magnifying glass attached to his eye. "coming! yes, and christmas is coming mr forster.--well, the dinner's going, i can tell you." nicholas, who did not want appetite, and who was conscious that if the mutton returned to the cupboard there would be some difficulty made in reproducing it, laid down the watch and came into the back parlour. "well, my dear, here i am; sorry to have kept you waiting so long, but business must be attended to.--dear me, why the mutton is really quite cold," continued nicholas, thrusting a large piece into his mouth, quite forgetting that he had already dined twice off the identical joint. "that's a fine watch of mr tobin's; but i think that my improvement upon the duplex when i have finished it--" "when you have finished it, indeed!" retorted the lady; "why, when did you ever finish any thing, mr forster! finish indeed!" "well, my dear," replied the husband, with an absent air--"i do mean to finish it, when--_you are dead_!" "when i am dead!" screamed the lady, in a rage--"when i am dead!" continued she, placing her arms akimbo, as she started from the chair:--"i can tell you, mr forster, that i'll live long enough to plague you, it's not the first time that you've said so; but depend upon it, i'll dance upon your grave yet, mr forster." "i did not exactly mean to say that; not exactly that, my dear," replied nicholas, confused. "the fact is that i was not exactly aware of what i was saying--i had not precisely the--" "precisely the fiddle-stick, mr forster! you did mean it, and you do mean it, and this is all the return that i am to expect for my kindness and anxiety for your welfare--slaving and toiling all day as i do; but you're incorrigible, mr forster: look at you, helping, yourself out of your snuff-box instead of the salt-cellar. what man in his senses would eat a cold shoulder of mutton with tobacco?" "dear me, so i have," replied forster, removing the snuff taken from the box, which, as usual, lay open before him, not into the box again, but into the salt-cellar. "and who's to eat that salt now, you nasty beast?" "i am not a beast, mrs forster," replied the husband, whose choler was roused; "i made a mistake; i do perceive--now i recollect it, did you send betty with the `day and night glass' to captain simkins?" "yes, i did, mr forster: if i did not look after your business, i should like to know what would become of us; and i can tell, you mr forster, that if you do not contrive to get more business, there will soon be nothing to eat; seventeen and sixpence is all that i have received this last week; and how rent and fire, meat and drink, are to be paid for with that, you must explain, for i can't." "how can i help it, my dear? i never refuse a job." "never refuse a job? no; but you must contrive to make more business." "i can mend a watch, and make a telescope, but i can't make business, my dear," replied nicholas. "yes, you can, and you must, mr forster," continued the lady, sweeping off the remains of the mutton, just as her husband had fixed his eye upon the next cut, and locking it up in the cupboard--"if you do not, you will have nothing to eat, mr forster." "so it appears, my dear," replied the meek nicholas, taking a pinch of snuff; "but i really don't--" "why, mr forster, if you were not one of the greatest--" "no, no, my dear," interrupted nicholas, from extreme modesty, "i am not one of the greatest opticians of the present day; although when i've made my improve--" "greatest opticians!" interrupted the lady. "one of the greatest _fools_, i meant!" "that's quite another thing, my dear; but--" "no _buts_, mr forster; please to listen, and not interrupt me in that bearish manner. why do you repair in the way you do? who ever brings you a watch or a glass that you have handled a second time?" "but why should they, my dear, when i have put them in good order?" "put them in order! but why do you put them in order?" "why do i put them in order, my dear?" replied forster, with astonishment. "yes; why don't you leave a screw loose, somewhere? then they must come again. that's the proper way to do business." "the proper way to do my business, my dear, is to see that all the screws are tight." "and starve!" continued the lady. "if it please god," replied the honest nicholas. but this matrimonial duet was interrupted by the appearance of their son, whom we must introduce to the reader, as he will play a conspicuous part in our narrative. newton forster, for thus had he been christened by his father, out of respect _for the great sir isaac_, who was now about seventeen years' old--athletic and well proportioned in person, handsome in features, and equally gifted in mind. there was a frankness and sincerity in his open brow, an honesty in his smile, which immediately won upon the beholder; and his countenance was but an index to his mind. his father had bestowed all his own leisure, and some expense, which he could ill afford, upon his education, trusting one day that he would rival the genius after whom he had been christened; but newton was not of a disposition to _sit_ down either at a desk or a work-bench. whenever he could escape from home or from school, he was to be found either on the beach or at the pier, under the shelter of which the coasting vessels discharged or received their cargoes; and he had for some years declared his intention to follow the profession of a sailor. to this his father had reluctantly consented, with the proviso that he would first finish his education; and the mutual compact had been strictly adhered to by each party. at the age of fifteen newton had acquired all that could be imparted to him by the pedagogue of the vicinity, and had then, until something better should turn up, shipped himself on board of a coasting vessel, in which, during the last two years he had made several trips, being usually absent about six weeks, and remaining in port about the same time, until another cargo could be procured. young as he was, the superiority of his education had obtained him the situation of mate of the vessel; and his pay enabled him to assist his father, whose business, as mrs forster declared, was not sufficient to "make both ends meet." upon his return, his love of knowledge and active habits induced him to glean as much as he could of his father's profession, and he could repair most articles that were sent in. although newton amused himself with the peculiarities and eccentricity of his father, he still had high respect for him, as he knew him to be a worthy, honest man. for his mother he certainly had none: he was indignant at her treatment of his father, and could find no redeeming quality to make amends for her catalogue of imperfections. still he had a peculiar tact, by which he avoided any serious altercation. never losing his own temper, yet quietly and firmly resisting all control, he assumed a dominion over her, from which her feelings towards him, whatever they may have been in his early years, were now changed into those of positive hatred. his absence this morning had been occasioned by his assistance being required in the fitting of a new main-stay for the sloop to which he belonged. "please god, what, father?" said newton, as he came in, catching his father's last words. "why, your mother says that we must starve, or be dishonest." "then we'll starve, father, with a clear conscience; but i hope things are not so had yet, for i am devilish hungry," continued newton, looking at the dinner-table, which offered to his view nothing but a table-cloth, with the salt-cellar and the snuff-box. "why, mother, is it dead low water, or have you stowed all away in the locker?"--and newton repaired to the cupboard, which was locked. now mrs forster was violent with others, but with newton she was always sulky. "there's nothing in the cupboard," growled the lady. "then why lock up nothing?" rejoined newton, who was aware that veracity was not among mrs forster's catalogue of virtues. "come, mother, hand me the key, and i'll ferret out something, i'll answer for it." mrs forster replied, that the cupboard was her own, and she was mistress of the house. "just as you please, mother. but, before i take the trouble, tell me, father, is there any thing in the cupboard?" "why, yes, newton, there's some mutton. at least, if i recollect right, i did not eat it all--did i, my dear?" mrs forster did not condescend an answer. newton went into the shop, and returned with a chisel and hammer. taking a chair to stand upon, he very coolly began to force the lock. "i am very sorry, mother, but i must have something to eat; and since you won't give me the key, why--" observed newton, giving the handle of the chisel a smart blow with the hammer-- "here's the key, sir," cried mrs forster with indignation, throwing it on the table, and bouncing out of the room. a smile was exchanged between the father and son, as she went backwards, screaming, "betty--i say, betty, you idle slut, where are you?" as if determined to vent her spleen upon somebody. "have you dined, father?" inquired newton, who had now placed the contents of the cupboard upon the table. "why, i really don't quite recollect; but i feel very hungry," replied the optician, putting in his plate to receive two large slices; and father and son sat down to a hearty meal, proving the truth of the wise man's observation, that, "better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than the stalled ox and hatred therewith." volume one, chapter five. whate'er it be, 'tis wondrous heavy. wrench it open straight. if the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold, it is a good constraint of fortune, that it belches on us. shakespeare. about three weeks after the events narrated in the preceding chapter, newton forster sailed in his vessel with a cargo to be delivered at the sea-port of waterford. the master of her was immoderately addicted to liquor; and, during the time that he remained in port, seldom was to be found in a state of perfect sobriety, even on a sunday. but, to do him justice, when his vessel was declared ready for sea, he abstained from his usual indulgence, that he might be enabled to take charge of the property committed to his care, and find his way to his destined port. it was a point on which his interest overcame, for a time, his darling propensity: and his rigid adherence to sobriety, when afloat, was so well ascertained, that his character as a trustworthy seaman was not injured by his continual intemperance when in harbour. latterly, however, since newton had sailed with him, he had not acted up to his important resolution. he found that the vessel was as safe under the charge of forster as under his own; and having taken great pains to instruct him in seamanship, and make him well acquainted with the dangers of the coast, he thought that, as newton was fully equal to the charge of the vessel, he might as well indulge himself with an occasional glass or two, to while away the tedium of embarkation. a stone pitcher of liquor was now his constant attendant when he pulled on board to weigh his anchor; which said pitcher, for fear of accidents, he carried down into the cabin himself. as soon as sail was on the vessel, and her course shaped, he followed his darling companion down into the cabin, and until the contents were exhausted was never sufficiently sober to make his appearance on deck; so that newton forster was, in fact, the _responsible_ master of the vessel. the wind, which had been favourable at the time of heaving up the anchor, changed, and blew directly in their teeth, before they were well out of sight of the port of overton. on the third day they were stretching off the land, to meet the first of the tide, under a light breeze and smooth water, when newton perceived various objects floating in the offing. a small thing is a good prize to a coaster; even an empty breaker is not to be despised; and newton kept away a point or two, that he might close and discover what the objects were. he soon distinguished one or two casks, swimming deeply, broken spars, and a variety of other articles. when the sloop was in the midst of them, newton hove to, tossed out the little skiff, and in the course of an hour, unknown to his captain, who was in bed sleeping off the effect of his last potations, brought alongside, and contrived to parbuckle in, the casks, and as many others of the floating articles as he could conveniently stow upon her decks. the boat was again hoisted in, by the united exertions of himself and his crew, consisting of _one_ man and _one_ boy; and the sloop, wearing round, reached in for the land. it was evident to newton that some large vessel had lately been wrecked, for the spars were fresh in the fracture, and clean--not like those long in the water, covered with sea-weed, and encircled by a shoal of fish, who, finding sustenance from the animalculae collected, follow the floating pieces of wood up and down, as their adopted parent, wherever they may be swept by the inconstant winds and tides. newton examined the heels of the spars, but they were not marked with the name of the vessel to which they had belonged. the two casks had only initials branded upon the heads; but nothing could be found which would designate the owners of the property. a large trunk riveted his attention; but he would not open it until the master of the vessel came upon deck. having ascertained by spiling that the contents of the casks were _real jamaica_, he went down into the cabin to announce what he knew would be most grateful intelligence. it was some time before newton could rouse his stupified senior. "spars--wrecked!" "what spars? damn the wreck!" growled old thompson (for such was his name), as he turned his back in no very ceremonious manner, and recommenced his snore. "there's a trunk besides, sir--a large trunk; but i did not open it, as you were not on deck. a large trunk, and rather heavy." "trunk!--well, what then? trunk!--oh, damn the trunk!--let me go to sleep," muttered the master. "there's two large casks, too, sir; i've spiled them, and they prove to be puncheons of rum," bawled newton, who pertinaciously continued. "eh; what?--casks! what casks?" "two puncheons of rum." "rum!--did you say rum?" cried old thompson, lifting his head off the pillow, and staring stupidly at newton; "where?" "on deck. two casks: we picked them up as we were standing off the land." "picked them up?--are they on board?" inquired the master, sitting upright in his bed, and rubbing his eyes. "yes, they're safe on board. won't you come on deck?" "to be sure, i will. two puncheons of rum, you said?"--and old thompson gained his feet, and reeled to the companion ladder, holding on by _all fours_, as he climbed up without his shoes. when the master of the sloop had satisfied himself as to the contents of the casks, which he did by taking about half a tumbler of each, newton proposed that the trunk should be opened. "yes," replied thompson, who had drawn off a mug of the spirits, with which he was about to descend to the cabin, "open it, if you like, my boy. you have made a _bon prize_ to-day, and your share shall be the trunk; so you may keep it, and the things that are stowed away in it, for your trouble: but don't forget to secure the casks till we can stow them away below. we can't break bulk now; but the sooner they are down the better; or we shall have some quill-driving rascal on board, with his _flotsam_ and _jetsam_, for the _lord knows who_;" and thompson, to use his own expression, went down again "to lay his soul in soak." reader, do you know the meaning of _flotsam_ and _jetsam_? none but a lawyer can, for it is old law language. now, there is a slight difference between language in general and law language. the first was invented to enable us to explain our own meaning, and comprehend the ideas of others; whereas, the second was invented with the view that we should not be able to understand a word about it. in former times, when all law, except _club_ law, was in its infancy, and practitioners not so erudite, or so thriving as at present, it was thought advisable to render it unintelligible by inventing a sort of _lingo_, compounded of bad french, grafted upon worse latin, forming a mongrel and incomprehensible race of words, with french heads and latin tails, which answered the purpose intended--that of mystification.--flotsam and jetsam are of this breed. flot, derived from the french _flottant_, floating; and jet, from the verb _jeter_, to _throw up_; both used in seignoral rights, granted by kings to favourites, empowering them to take possession of the property of any man who might happen to be unfortunate, which was in those times tantamount to being guilty. i dare say, if one could see the deed thus empowering them to confiscate the goods and chattels of others for their own use, according to the wording of the learned clerks in those days, it would run thus:--"omnium quod flotsam et jetsam, et every thing else-um, quod findetes;" in plain english, "every thing floating or thrown up, and every thing else you may pick up." now the admiral of the coast had this piratical privilege: and as, in former days, sextants and chronometers were unknown, sea-faring men incurred more risk than they do at present, and the wrecks which strewed the coast were of very great value. i had a proof the other day that this right is still exacted; that is as far as regards property _unclaimed_. i had arrived at plymouth from the western islands. when we hove up our anchor at st. michael's, we found another anchor and cable hooked most lovingly to our own, to the great joy of the first-lieutenant who proposed buying silk handkerchiefs for every man in the ship, and expending the residue in paint. but we had not been at anchor in plymouth sound more than twenty four hours, and he hardly had time to communicate with the gentlemen-dealers in marine stores, when i received a notification from some lynx-eyed agent of the present admiral of the coast (who is a lawyer, i believe), requesting the immediate delivery of the anchor and cable,--upon the plea of his seignoral rights of _flotsam_ and _jetsam_. now the idea was as preposterous as the demand was impudent. we had picked up the anchor in the roadstead of a _foreign power_, about fifteen hundred miles distant from the english coast. we are all lawyers, _now_, on board ship; so i gave him one of my legal answers, "that in the first place, _flotsam_ meant floating, and anchors did not float; in the second place, that _jetsam_ meant thrown up, and anchors never were thrown up; in the third and last place, _i'd see him damned first_!" my arguments were unanswerable. counsel for the plaintiff (i presume) threw up his brief, for we heard no more of "_mr flotsam and jetsam_." but to proceed:--the man and boy, who, with newton, composed the whole crew, seemed perfectly to acquiesce in the distribution made by the master of the sloop; taking it for granted that their silence, as to the liquor being on board, would be purchased by a share of it, as long as it lasted. they repaired forward with a panikin from the cask, with which they regaled themselves, while newton stood at the helm. in half an hour newton called the boy aft to steer the vessel, and lifted the trunk into the cabin below, where he found that thompson had finished the major part of the contents of the mug, and was lying in a state of drunken stupefaction. the hasp of the lock was soon removed by a claw-hammer, and the contents of the trunk exposed to newton's view. they consisted chiefly of female wearing apparel and child's linen; but, with these articles there was a large packet of letters, addressed to madame louise de montmorenci, the contents of which were a mystery to newton, who did not understand french. there were also a red morocco case, containing a few diamond ornaments, and three or four crosses of different orders of knighthood. all the wearing apparel of the lady was marked with the initials lm, while those appertaining to the infant were marked with the letters jf. after a careful examination, newton spread out the clothes to dry, over the cabin lockers and table; and depositing the articles of value in a safe place, he returned on deck. although thompson had presented him with the trunk and its contents, he felt that they could not be considered as his property, and he determined to replace every thing, and, upon his return, consult his father as, to the proper measures which should be taken to discover who were the lawful owners. the sloop, under the direction of newton, had continued her course for two days against the adverse, yet light breeze, when the weather changed. the wind still held to the same quarter: but the sky became loaded with clouds, and the sun set with a dull red glare, which prognosticated a gale from the north west; and before morning the vessel was pitching through a short chopping sea. by noon the gale was at its height; and newton, perceiving that the sloop did not "hold her own," went down to rouse the master, to inquire what steps should be taken, as he considered it advisable to bear up; and the only port under their lee for many miles was one, with the navigation of which he was himself unacquainted. the vessel was under close-reefed mainsail and storm foresail, almost buried in the heavy sea, which washed over the deck from forward to the companion hatch, when newton went down to rouse the besotted thompson, who, having slept through the night without having had recourse to additional stimulus, was more easy to awaken than before. "eh! what?--blows hard--whew!--so it does. how's the wind?" said the master, throwing his feet outside the standing bed-place, as he sat up. "north west, veering to nor'-nor'-west in the squalls.--we have lost good ten miles since yesterday evening, and are close to dudden sands," replied newton. "i think we must bear up, for the gale shows no signs of breaking." "well, i'll be on deck in a moment, my boy," rejoined thompson, who was now quite himself again, and was busy putting on his shoes, the only articles which had been removed when he turned in. "go you up, and see that they keep her clean, full and bye--and those casks well secured.-- dudden sands--awkward place too--but i've not been forty years a-boxing about this coast for nothing." in a minute thompson made his appearance on deck, and steadying himself by the weather topmast backstay, fixed his leaden eyes upon the land on the quarter.--"all right younker, that's the head, sure enough;" then turning his face to the wind, which lifted up his grey curling locks, and bore them out horizontally from his fur cap, "and it's a devil of a gale, sure enough.--it may last a month of sundays for all i know.--up with the helm, tom.--ease off the main sheet, handsomely, my lad--not too much.--now, take in the slack, afore she jibes;" and the master ducked under the main boom and took his station on the other side of the deck. "steady as you go now.--newton, take the helm.--d'ye see that bluff? keep her right for it. tom, you and the boy rouse the cable up-- get about ten fathoms on deck, and bend it.--you'll find a bit of seizing and a marline-spike in the locker abaft."--the sloop scudded before the gale, and in less than two hours was close to the headland pointed out by the master. "now, newton, we must hug the point or we shall not fetch--clap on the main sheet here, all of us.--luff; you may handsomely.--that's all right; we are past the sand-head, and shall be in smooth water in a jiffy. steady, so-o.--now for a drop of _swizzle_," cried thompson, who considered that he had kept sober quite long enough, and proceeded to the cask of rum lashed to leeward. as he knelt down to pull out the spile, the sloop, which had been brought to the wind, was struck on her broadside by a heavy sea which careened her to her gunnel; the lashings of the weather cask gave way, and it flew across the deck, jamming the unfortunate thompson, who knelt against the one to leeward, and then bounding overboard. the old man gave a heavy groan, and fell upon his back; the man and boy ran to his assistance, and by the directions of newton, who could not quit the helm, carried him below, and placed him on his bed. in a few minutes the sloop was safe at anchor, in smooth water, and newton ran down into the cabin. thompson's head had been crushed against the chime of the cask; for an hour or two he breathed heavily; and then--he was no more! volume one, chapter six. the indian weed, unknown to ancient times, nature's choice gift, whose acrimonious fume extracts superfluous juices, and refines the blood distemper'd from its noxious salts; friend to the spirit, which with vapours bland it gently mitigates--companion fit of a _good pot of porter_. phillips. there's a pot of good double beer, neighbour, drink-- shakespeare. the next day the remains of old thompson were carried on shore in the long-boat, and buried in the churchyard of the small fishing town that was within a mile of the port where the sloop had anchored. newton shipped another man, and when the gale was over, continued his voyage; which was accomplished without further adventure. finding no cargo ready for him, and anxious to deliver up the vessel to the owner, who resided at overton, he returned in ballast, and communicated the intelligence of thompson's death; which in so small a town was long the theme of conversation, and the food of gossips. newton consulted with his father relative to the disposal of the trunk; but nicholas could assist him but little with his advice. after many _pros_ and _cons_, like all other difficult matters, it was postponed.--"really, newton, i can't say. the property certainly is not yours, but still we are not likely to find out the lawful owner. bring the trunk on shore, we'll nail it up, and perhaps we may hear something about it by and bye. we'll make some inquiries--by and bye--when your mother--" "i think," interrupted newton, "it would not be advisable to acquaint my mother with the circumstance; but how to satisfy her curiosity on that point, i must leave to you." "to me, boy! no; i think that you had better manage that, for you know you are only _occasionally_ at home." "well, father, be it so," replied newton, laughing: "but here comes mr dragwell and mr hilton, to consult with us what ought to be done relative to the effects of poor old thompson. he has neither kith nor kin, to the ninety-ninth degree, that we can find out." mr dragwell was the curate of the parish; a little fat man with bow-legs, who always sat upon the edge of the chair, leaning against the back, and twiddling his thumbs before him. he was facetious and good-tempered, but was very dilatory in every thing. his greatest peculiarity was, that although he had a hearty laugh for every joke, he did not take the jokes of others at the time that they were made. his ideas seemed to have the slow and silent flow ascribed to the stream of lava (without its fire): and the consequence was, that although he eventually laughed at a good thing, it was never at the same time with other people; but in about a quarter or half a minute afterwards (according to the difficulty of the analysis), when the cause had been dismissed for other topics, he would burst out in a hearty ha, ha, ha! mr hilton was the owner of the sloop: he was a tall, corpulent man, who for many years had charge of a similar vessel, until by "doing a little contraband," he had pocketed a sufficient sum to enable him to purchase one for himself. but the profits being more than sufficient for his wants, he had for some time remained on shore, old thompson having charge of the vessel. he was a good-tempered, jolly fellow, very fond of his pipe and his pot, and much more fond of his sloop, by the employment of which he was supplied with all his comforts. he passed most of the day sitting at the door of his house, which looked upon the anchorage, exchanging a few words with every one that passed by, but invariably upon one and the same topic--his sloop. if she was at anchor--"there she is," he would say, pointing to her with the stem of his pipe. if she was away, she had sailed on such a day;--he expected her back at such a time. it was a fair wind--it was a foul wind for his sloop. all his ideas were engrossed by this one darling object, and it was no easy task to divert him from it. i ought to have mentioned that mr dragwell, the curate, was invariably accompanied by mr spinney, the clerk of the parish, a little spare man, with a few white hairs straggling on each side of a bald pate. he always took his tune whether in or out of church from his superior, ejecting a small treble "he, he, he!" in response to the loud ha, ha, ha! of the curate. "peace be unto this house!" observed the curate as he crossed the threshold, for mrs forster's character was notorious; then laughing at his own wit with a ha, ha, ha! "he, he, he!" "good morning, mr forster, how is your good lady?" "she's safe moored at last," interrupted mr hilton. "who?" demanded the curate, with surprise. "why, the sloop, to be sure." "oh! i thought you meant the lady--ha, ha, ha!" "he, he, he!" "won't you sit down, gentlemen?" said nicholas, showing the way from the shop into the parlour, where they found mrs forster, who had just come in from the back premises. "hope you're well, mr curate," sharply observed the lady, who could not be persuaded, even from respect for the cloth, to be commonly civil--"take a chair; it's all covered with dust! but that betsy is such an idle slut!" "newton handles her, as well as any man going," observed hilton. "newton!" screamed the lady, turning to her son, with an angry inquiring look--"newton handles betsy!" continued she, turning round to hilton. "betsy! no; the sloop i meant, ma'am." newton burst out into a laugh, in which he was joined by hilton and his father. "sad business--sad indeed!" said hilton, after the merriment had subsided, "such an awful death!" "ha, ha, ha!" roared the curate, who had but just then taken the joke about betsy. "he, he, he!" "nothing to laugh at, that i can see," observed mrs forster, snappishly. "capital joke, ma'am, i assure you!" rejoined the curate; "but, mr forster, we had better proceed to business. spinney, where are the papers?" the clerk produced an inventory of the effects of the late mr thompson, and laid them on the table.--"melancholy thing, this, ma'am," continued the curate, "very melancholy indeed! but we must all die." "yes, thank heaven!" muttered nicholas, in an absent manner. "thank heaven, mr forster!" cried the lady,--"why, do you wish to die?" "i was not exactly thinking about myself, my dear," replied nicholas--"i--" "depend upon it she'll last a long while yet," interrupted mr hilton. "do you think so?" replied nicholas, mournfully. "oh! sure of it; i stripped her the other day, and examined her all over; she's as sound as ever." nicholas started, and stared hilton in the face; while newton, who perceived their separate train of thought, tittered with delight. "what are you talking of?" at last observed nicholas. "of the sloop, to be sure," replied hilton. "i rather imagine you were come to consult about mr thompson's effects," observed mrs forster, angrily--"rather a solemn subject, instead of--" "ha, ha, ha!" ejaculated the curate, who had just _taken_ the equivoque which had occasioned newton's mirth. "he, he, he!" this last merriment of mr dragwell appeared to the lady to be such a pointed insult to her, that she bounded out of the room, exclaiming, "that an alehouse would have been a more suitable _rendezvous_." the curate twiddled his thumbs, as the eyes of all the party followed the exit of mrs forster; and there were a few moments of silence. "don't you find her a pleasant little craft, forster?" said hilton, addressing newton. nicholas forster, who was in a brown study about his wife, shook his head without lifting up his eyes, while newton nodded assent. "plenty of accommodation in her," continued hilton.--another negative shake from nicholas, and assentent nod from newton. "if i thought you could manage her, forster," continued hilton,--"tell me, what do you think yourself?" "oh, quite impossible!" replied nicholas. "quite impossible, mr forster! well, now, i've a better opinion of newton--i think he _can_." "why, yes," replied nicholas, "certainly better than i can; but still she's--" "she's a beauty, mr forster." "mrs forster a beauty," cried nicholas, looking at hilton with astonishment. newton and hilton burst into a laugh. "no, no," said the latter, "i was talking about the sloop; but we had better proceed to business. suppose we have pipes, mr forster. mr dragwell, what do you say?" "ha, ha, ha!" roared the curate, who had just taken the last joke. "he, he, he!" "why, yes," continued the curate, "i think it is a most excellent proposition; this melancholy affair requires a great deal of consideration. i never compose so well as i do with a pipe in my mouth: mrs dragwell says that she knows all my best sermons by the smell of them; d'ye take--ha, ha, ha!" "he, he, he!" the pipes, with the addition of a couple of pots of porter, were soon procured from the neighbouring alehouse; and while the parties are filling them, and pushing the paper of tobacco from one to the other, i shall digress, notwithstanding the contrary opinion of the other sex, in praise of this most potent and delightful weed. i love thee, whether thou appearest in the shape of a cigar, or diest away in sweet perfume enshrined in the mereshaum bowl; i love thee with more than woman's love! thou art a companion to me in solitude. i can talk and reason with thee, avoiding loud and obstreperous argument. thou art a friend to me when in trouble, for thou advisest in silence, and consolest with thy calm influence over the perturbed spirit. i know not how thy power has been bestowed upon thee; yet, if to harmonise the feelings, to allow the thoughts to spring without control, rising like the white vapour from the cottage hearth, on a morning that is sunny and serene;--if to impart that sober sadness over the spirit, which inclines us to forgive our enemy, that calm philosophy which reconciles us to the ingratitude and knavery of the world, that heavenly contemplation whispering to us, as we look around, that "all is good;"-- if these be merits, they are thine, most potent weed. what a quiet world would this be if every one would smoke! i suspect that the reason why the fairer sex decry thee is, that thou art the cause of silence. the ancients knew thee not, or the lips of harpocrates would have been closed with a cigar, and his fore-finger removed from the mouth unto the temple. half an hour was passed without any observation from our party, as the room gradually filled with the volumes of smoke which wreathed and curled in graceful lines, as they ascended in obedience to the unchangeable laws of nature. hilton's pipe was first exhausted; he shook the ashes on the table. "a very melancholy business, indeed!" observed he, as he refilled. the rest nodded a grand assent; the pipe was relighted; and all was silent as before. another pipe is empty.--"looking at this inventory," said the curate, "i should imagine the articles to be of no great value. one fur cap, one round hat, one pair of plush breeches, one ---; they are not worth a couple of pounds altogether," continued he, stuffing the tobacco into his pipe, which he relighted, and no more was said. nicholas was the third in, or rather out. "it appears to me," observed he;--but what appeared is lost, as some new idea flitted across his imagination, and he commenced his second pipe, without further remark. some ten minutes after this, mr spinney handed the pot of porter to the curate, and subsequently to the rest of the party. they all took largely, then puffed away as before. how long this cabinet council might have continued it is impossible to say; but silence, who was in "the chair," was soon afterwards driven from his post of honour by the most implacable of his enemies, "a woman's tongue." "well, mr forster! well, gentlemen! do you mean to poison me? have you made smell and dirt enough? how long is this to last, i should like to know?" cried mrs forster, entering the room. "i tell you what, mr forster, you had better hang up a sign at once, and keep an alehouse. let the sign be a fool's head, like your own. i wonder you are not ashamed of yourself, mr curate; you that ought to set an example to your parishioners!" but mr dragwell did not admire such remonstrance; so taking his pipe out of his mouth, he retorted--"if your husband does put up a sign, i recommend him to stick you up as the `good woman;' that would be without your head--ha, ha, ha!" "he, he, he!" "he, he, he! you pitiful 'natomy," cried mrs forster, in a rage, turning to the clerk, as she dared not revenge herself upon the curate. take that for your he, he, he! and she swung round the empty pewter-pot which she snatched from the table, upon the bald pericranium of mr spinney, who tumbled off his chair, and rolled upon the sanded floor. the remainder of the party were on their legs in an instant. newton jerked the weapon out of his mother's hands, and threw it in a corner of the room. nicholas was aghast: he surmised that his turn would come next; and so it proved.--"an't you ashamed of yourself, mr forster, to see me treated in this way--bringing a parcel of drunken men into the house to insult me? will you order them out, or not, sir?--are we to have quiet or not?" "yes, my love," replied nicholas, confused, "yes, my dear, by and bye, as soon as you're--" mrs forster darted towards her husband with the ferocity of a mad cat. hilton perceiving the danger of his host, put out his leg so as to trip her up in her career, and she fell flat upon her face on the floor. the violence of the fall was so great, that she was stunned. newton raised her up; and, with the assistance of his father (who approached with as much reluctance as a horse spurred towards a dead tiger), carried her up stairs, and laid her on her bed. poor mr spinney was now raised from the floor. he still remained stupified with the blow, although gradually recovering. betsy came in to render assistance. "o dear, mr curate, do you think that he'll die?" "no, no; bring some water, betsy, and throw it in his face." "better take him home as he is," replied betsy, "and say that he is killed; when missis hears it, she'll be frightened out of her life. it will keep her quiet for some time at least." "an excellent idea, betty; we will punish her for her conduct," replied hilton. the curate was delighted at the plan. mr spinney was placed in an arm-chair, covered over with a table-cloth, and carried away to the parsonage by two men, who were provided by betsy before nicholas or newton had quitted the room where mrs forster lay in a deplorable condition: her sharp nose broken, and twisted on one side; her eyebrow cut open to the bone, and a violent contusion on her forehead. in less than half an hour it was spread through the whole town that spinney had been murdered by mrs forster, and that his brains were bespattered all over the shop windows! volume one, chapter seven. that she is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true, 'tis pity; and pity 'tis, 'tis true: a foolish figure; but farewell it, for i will use no art. mad let us grant her then; and now remains that we find out the cause of this effect, or rather say, the cause of this defect. shakespeare. mr dragwell has already made honourable mention of his wife; it will therefore only be necessary to add, that he had one daughter, a handsome lively girl, engaged to a mr ramsden, the new surgeon of the place, who had stepped into the shoes and the good-will of one who had retired from forty years' practice upon the good people of overton. fanny dragwell had many good qualities, and many others which were rather doubtful. one of the latter had procured her more enemies than at her age she had any right to expect. it was what the french term "malice," which bears a very different signification from the same word in our own language. she delighted in all practical jokes, and would carry them to an excess, at the very idea of which others would be startled; but it must be acknowledged that she generally selected as her victims those who from their conduct towards others richly deserved retaliation. the various tricks which she had played upon certain cross old spinsters, tatlers, scandalmongers, and backbiters, often were the theme of conversation and of mirth: but this description of _espieglerie_ contains a most serious objection; which is, that to carry on a successful and well arranged plot, there must be a total disregard of truth. latterly, miss fanny had had no one to practise upon except mr ramsden, during the period of his courtship--a period at which women never appear to so much advantage, nor men appear so silly. but even for this, the time was past, as latterly she had become so much attached to him that distress on his part was a source of annoyance to herself. when therefore her father came home, narrating the circumstances which had occurred, and the plan which had been meditated, fanny entered gaily into the scheme. mrs forster had long been her abhorrence; and an insult to mr ramsden, who had latterly been designated by mrs forster as a "pill-gilding puppy," was not to be forgotten. her active and inventive mind immediately conceived a plan which would enable her to carry the joke much farther than the original projectors had intended. ramsden, who had been summoned to attend poor mr spinney, was her sole confidant, and readily entered into a scheme which was pleasing to his mistress, and promised revenge for the treatment he had received; and which, as miss dragwell declared, would be nothing but retributive justice upon mrs forster. late in the evening, a message was received from newton forster, requesting that mr ramsden would attend his mother. he had just visited the old clerk, who was now sensible, and had nothing to complain of except a deep cut on his temple from the rim of the pewter-pot. after receiving a few parting injunctions from miss dragwell, mr ramsden quitted the parsonage. "i am afraid it's a very bad business, mr forster," replied the surgeon to newton, who had been interrogating him relative to the injury received by mr spinney. "evident concussion of the brain: he may live--or he may not; a few days will decide the point: he is a poor feeble old man." newton sighed as he reflected upon the disaster and disgrace which might ensue from his mother's violence of temper. "eh! what, mr ramsden?" said nicholas, who had been for some time contemplating the battered visage of his spouse. "did you say, she'll die?" "no, no, mr forster, there's no fear of mrs forster, she'll do well enough. she'll be up and about again in a day or two, as lively as ever." "god forbid!" muttered the absent nicholas. "mr forster, see if i don't pay you off for that, as soon as i'm up again," muttered the recumbent lady, as well as the bandages passed under her chin would permit her. "pray call early to-morrow, mr ramsden, and let us know how mr spinney is going on," said newton, extending his hand as the surgeon rose to depart. mr ramsden shook it warmly, and quitted the house: he had left them about half an hour when betsy made her appearance with some fomentations, which had been prepared in the kitchen. out of revenge for sundry blows daily received, and sundry epithets hourly bestowed upon her by her mistress, the moment she entered she exclaimed, in a half-crying tone, "o dear, mr newton! there's such shocking news just come from the parsonage; mr spinney is just dead--and my missis will be hanged!" mrs forster said not a word; she quailed under dread of the report being correct. newton and his father looked at each other; their mute anguish was expressed by covering up their faces with their hands. when hilton and the curate arranged their plans for the mortification of mrs forster, it was considered advisable that newton (who was not so easily to be imposed upon) should be removed out of the way. hilton had already stated his intention to give him in charge of the vessel, and he now proposed sending him for a cargo of shingle, which was lying ready for her, about fifty miles down the coast, and which was to be delivered at waterford. at an early hour, on the ensuing morning, he called at forster's house. newton, who had not taken off his clothes, came out to meet him. "well, newton, how is your mother?" said hilton. "i hope you are not angry with me: i certainly was the occasion of the accident, but i could not bear to see your worthy father treated in that manner." "i blush to acknowledge, mr hilton, that she deserved it all," replied newton; "but i am very much alarmed about the condition of mr spinney. have you heard this morning?" "no; but between ourselves, newton, doctors always make the worst of their cases. i never heard of a pewter pot killing a man; he'll do well enough, never fear. i came to tell you that i've a letter last night from repton, who says that the shingle must be delivered before the tenth of next month, or the contract will be void. he desires that i will send the sloop directly, or he must employ another craft. now, i think you had better start at once; there's a nice fair wind for you, and you'll be down afore night." "why, really, mr hilton, i do not exactly like to leave home just now," replied newton, thoughtfully. "well, as you please, mr forster," rejoined hilton, with apparent displeasure. "i have offered you the command of the vessel, and now you object to serve my interests on the very first occasion, merely because there are a couple of broken heads!" "i am wrong, most certainly," replied newton; "i beg your pardon--i will just speak a word or two to my father, and be on board in less than half an hour." "i will meet you there," said hilton, "and bring your papers. be as quick as you can, or you'll lose the first of the tide." newton returned to the house; his father made no objection to his departure; and, in fulfilment of his promise, newton was ready to start, when he encountered ramsden at the door. "mr ramsden," said newton, "i am requested by the owner of my vessel to sail immediately; but if you think that the life of mr spinney is seriously in danger, i will throw up the command of the vessel, rather than leave my mother under such an accumulation of disasters. i beg as a favour that you will not disguise the truth." "you may sail this minute, if you please, mr forster; i am happy to be able to relieve your mind. mr spinney is doing very well, and you'll see him at his desk on the first sunday of your return." "then i am off: good-bye, mr ramsden; many thanks." with a lightened heart, newton leapt into the skiff which was to carry him on board of the sloop; and in less than half an hour was standing away to the southward before a fine wind, to execute the orders which he had received. ramsden remained a few minutes at the door, until he saw newton ascend the side of the vessel; then he entered, and was received by betsy. "well, betsy, you agreed to make mrs forster believe that mr spinney was dead; but we little thought that such would really be the case." "lord love you, sir! why you don't say so?" "i do, indeed, betsy; but mind, we must keep it a secret for the present, until we can get mrs forster out of the way. how is she this morning?" "oh, very stiff, and very cross, sir." "i'll go up to her," replied ramsden "but recollect, betsy, that you do not mention it to a soul;" and ramsden ascended the stairs. "well, mrs forster, how do you feel this morning? do you think you could get up?" "get up, mr ramsden! not to save my soul--i can't even turn on my side." "very sorry to hear it, indeed," replied the surgeon; "i was in hopes that you might have been able to bear a journey." "bear a journey, mr ramsden! why bear a journey?" "i am sorry to inform you that mr spinney's gone--poor old man! there must be a coroner's inquest. now, it would be as well if you were not to be found, for the verdict will be `wilful murder!'" "o dear! o dear!" exclaimed mrs forster, jumping out of her bed with fright, and wringing her hands: "what can i do?--what can i do?" "at present it is a secret, mrs forster, but it cannot be so long. miss dragwell, who feels for you very much, begged me not to say a word about it. she will call and consult with you, if you would like to see her. sad thing indeed, mrs forster, to be placed in such a situation by a foolish husband." "you may well say that, mr ramsden," replied the lady, with asperity; "he is the greatest fool that ever god made! every one knows what a sweet temper i was before i married; but flesh and blood cannot bear what i am subjected to." "would you like to see miss dragwell?" "yes, very much; i always thought her a very nice girl;--a little wild-- a little forward indeed, and apt to be impertinent; but still, rather a nice girl." "well, then, i will tell her to call, and the sooner the better, for when it is known, the whole town will be in an uproar. i should not be surprised if they attacked the house--the people will be so indignant." "i don't wonder at it," replied mrs forster; "nothing can excuse such provocation as i receive from my husband, stupid wretch!" "good morning, mrs forster; do you think then that you could bear moving?" "o yes! o yes! but where am i to go?" "that i really cannot form an idea--you had better consult with miss dragwell.--depend upon it, mrs forster, that i will be most happy to render you all my assistance in this unfortunate dilemma." "you're very good," snarled mrs forster: and ramsden quitted the room. i have one or two acquaintances, to whom, if i wish a report to be circulated, i immediately impart the substance as a most profound secret; and i find that by these means it obtains a much more extensive circulation than if i sent it to the newspapers. ramsden was aware of betsy's cackling propensities, and long before he quitted mrs forster, it was generally believed throughout the good town of overton that mr spinney, although he had not been killed outright, as reported in the first instance, had subsequently died of the injuries received from this modern xantippe. mrs forster had half an hour to reflect upon her supposed awkward situation; and to drive away thought, had sent for nicholas, whom she loaded with the bitterest invectives, when miss dragwell was announced. "see, sir," continued mrs forster, "the condition to which you have reduced a fond and faithful wife--one that has so studied your interests; one--" "yes, indeed," added miss dragwell, who heard the attack as she ascended the stairs, and took up the cause of mrs forster to obtain her confidence--"yes, indeed, mr forster, see the consequences of your folly, your smoking, and your drinking.--pray leave the room, sir; i wonder how mrs forster can bear the sight of you!" nicholas stared, and was about to throw in a detached word or two, by way of vindication, when a furious "begone!" from his wife occasioned a precipitate retreat. "we have all been consulting about this sad business, my dear mrs forster," commenced miss dragwell; "and after much consideration have hit upon the only plan by which you may escape the penalty of the law. yes, my dear ma'am," continued miss dragwell, in the most bland and affectionate voice, "it is unwise to conceal the truth from you; the depositions of my father and mr hilton, when they are called upon, will be such that `wilful murder!' must be returned, and you--(the young lady faltered, and put up her handkerchief)--you must inevitably be hanged!" "hanged!" screamed mrs forster. "yes, hanged--`hanged by the neck until you are dead! and the lord have mercy upon your soul!' that will be your sentence," replied the young lady, sobbing;--"such an awful, such a disgraceful death for a woman too!" "o lord, o lord!" cried mrs forster, who was now really frightened. "what will become of me?" "you will go to another and a better world, as my papa says in his sermons; i believe that the pain is not very great--but the disgrace--" mrs forster burst into tears. "save me! save me, miss dragwell!--oh! oh! that stupid nicholas, oh! oh!" "my dear mrs forster, we have all agreed at the parsonage that there is but one method." "name it, my dear miss dragwell, name it!" cried mrs forster, imploringly. "you must pretend to be mad, and then there will be a verdict of insanity; but you must carry it through everything, or it will be thought you are shamming. mr ramsden is acquainted with dr b---, who has charge of the asylum at d---. it is only nine miles off: he will take you there, and when the coroner's inquest is over you can return. it will be supposed then to have been only temporary derangement. do you like the proposal?" "why, i have been mad for a long time," replied mrs forster; "the conduct of my husband and my son has been too much for my nerves; but i don't like the idea of actually going to a madhouse.--could not--" "o dear, marm!" cried betsy, running into the room, "there's a whole posse of people about the house; they want to take you to the town jail, for murdering mr spinney. what shall i say to them? i'm feared they'll break in." "go and tell them that mrs forster is too ill to be taken out of bed, and that she is out of her senses--d'ye hear, betsy, tell them all she is _stark staring mad_!" "yes, i will, marm," replied betsy, wiping her eyes as she left the room. miss dragwell walked to the window. although the report spread by betsy had collected a crowd opposite the house, still there was no attempt at violence. "i'm afraid that it's too late," said the young lady, turning from the window. "what a crowd! and how angry they seem to be! you must be hanged now!" "o no! i'll be mad--i'll be anything, my dear miss dragwell." "well, then, we must be quick--don't put your gown on--petticoats are better--i'll dress you up." miss dragwell rummaged the drawers, and collecting a variety of feathers and coloured ribbons, pinned them over the bandages which encircled mrs forster's head; then pulling out a long-tailed black coat of her husband's, which had been condemned, forced her arms through it, and buttoned it in front. "that will do for the present," cried miss dragwell; "now here's the cat, take it in your arms, go to the window and nurse it like a baby. i'll throw it open-- you come forward and make them a curtsy; that will spread the report through the town that you are mad, and the rest will then be easy." "oh! i can't--i can't go to the window, i can't indeed." "i'll open the window and speak to the people," said miss dragwell; and she threw up the sash, informing the gaping multitude that mrs forster was quite out of her senses, but perfectly harmless. "perfectly harmless, after killing a man!" observed one of the party below. "they won't believe me, mrs forster; come, you must, or you will certainly be _hanged_." urged by her fears, mrs forster approached the window, and showed herself to the astonished crowd. "curtsy to them," said miss dragwell; holding her handkerchief before her mouth. mrs forster curtsied. "smile upon them," continued the malicious young lady. mrs forster grinned horribly. "now dance your cat." mrs forster obeyed the injunction. "now give a loud shriek, and toss the cat out of window." mrs forster uttered a hideous yell, and threw the animal at the heads of the spectators, who retreated with alarm in every direction. "now burst into a fit of laughter, curtsy to them, and wave your hand, and that will be sufficient." mrs forster obeyed the last order, and miss dragwell shut the window. in a few minutes the report spread that mrs forster had gone out of her senses; and the murder of mr spinney, a topic which was nearly exhausted, was dismissed for the time to dwell and comment upon the second catastrophe. volume one, chapter eight. mad as the sea and wind, when both contend which is the mightier. shakespeare. "so far we have succeeded, my dear mrs forster," said miss dragwell; "i will now return home, and come back as soon as i can with the post-chaise. mr ramsden's servant shall come with me to conduct you to the asylum, and i trust in a quarter of an hour to see you clear of these foolish people of overton, who think that you are the party in fault: you had better remain in your room, and not appear again at the window; the crowd will disperse when they are tired of watching: good-bye, my dear mrs forster, good-bye." mrs forster was in too sulky a humour to vouchsafe an answer; and miss dragwell quitted the house. betsy had taken advantage of the turmoil and the supposed lunacy of her mistress, to gossip in the neighbourhood. nicholas forster was in the shop, but took no notice of miss dragwell as she passed through. he appeared to have forgotten all that had occurred, and was very busy filing at his bench. there we must leave him, and follow the motions of the mischief-loving miss dragwell. upon her return, the party collected at the parsonage considered that they had proceeded far enough; but miss dragwell thought otherwise; she had made up her mind that mrs forster should pass a day or two in the lunatic asylum, and she felt assured that mr ramsden, through whose assistance her intention must be accomplished, would not venture to dispute her wishes. her father, with a loud ha, ha, ha! proposed that mr spinney should appear as a ghost by the bedside of mrs forster, wrapped up in a sheet, with a he, he, he! and that thus the diversion should end; but this project was overruled by mr spinney, who protested that nothing should induce him again to trust himself, with a he, he, he! in the presence of mrs forster. ramsden, although well acquainted with doctor beddington, who had charge of the asylum, was not sure that he would be pleased with their freak, and earnestly dissuaded his intended from proceeding any farther. "it is useless to argue, my dear george, i am quixote enough to revenge the injuries of those who have been forced to submit to her temper; and moreover i hope to effect a cure. desperate diseases, you must be aware as a medical man, require desperate remedies. i consider that a termagant and a lunatic are during their paroxysms on a par, as rational behaviour in either party may be considered as a lucid interval. let her, if it be only for one hour, witness herself reflected in the various distorted mirrors of perverted mind; and if she has any conscience whatever, good will spring from evil. i joined this plot from a love of mischief; but i carry it on from a feeling that favourable results will be produced." "but my dear fanny--" "i will have it so, ramsden, so don't attempt to dissuade me; we are not married yet, and i must not be thwarted in my short supremacy. surely you ought not to be displeased at my desire to `tame a shrew.' i give a fair promise not to fall into an error which i so ardently detest: now, send for the chaise, write a letter to doctor beddington, and leave me to arrange with mrs forster." ramsden, like many others when teased by a pretty woman, consented against his will; he wrote a letter to doctor beddington, explaining circumstances, and requesting his pardon for the liberty which he had been persuaded to take. miss dragwell, as soon as the letter was sealed, put on her bonnet, and taking mr ramsden's servant with her, stepped into the chaise, and drove to the house of mr nicholas forster. she found mrs forster squatted on the bed in her ludicrous attire, awaiting her return with impatience. "oh! mrs forster, i have had such trouble, such difficulty; but mr ramsden has been persuaded at last. there is a letter to dr beddington, and mr ramsden's servant is in the chaise at the door; the sooner you are off the better; the people are so outrageous, and call you such shocking names." "do they?" replied mrs forster, whose wrath kindled at the information. "yes, indeed; and that wretch betsy declares that she'll put the rope over your neck with her own hands." "does she?" cried mrs forster, her eyes twinkling with rage. "yes; and your husband, your foolish husband, says that he'll be able to make his improvement in the duplex, now that you'll be hanged." "he does, does he?" replied mrs forster, catching her breath, and grinding her teeth as she jumped off the bed. "now, my dear mrs forster, it's no use minding what they say; all you have to do is to escape as soon as possible; the magistrate's warrant may arrive this minute, and then it will be too late; so come down at once:--how lucky that you have escaped! it must be a dreadful thing to be hanged!" this last remark, always brought forward by miss dragwell, when she had a point to carry, induced mrs forster to hasten down stairs to the post-chaise, which she found already occupied by mr ramsden's servant. as soon as she entered, it was driven off with speed in the direction already communicated to the post-boy. we shall leave the town of overton to recover its quiet, for such a bustle had not occurred for many years, and miss dragwell to exult in the success of her plot, while we follow mrs forster to her new quarters. the chaise rattled on, mr ramsden's servant crouching in a corner, as far as possible from mrs forster, evidently about as well pleased with his company as one would be in a pitfall with a tiger. at last it stopped at the door of the lunatic asylum, and the post-boy dismounting from his reeking horses, pulled violently at a large bell, which answered with a most lugubrious tolling, and struck awe into the breast of mrs forster. when the door was opened mr ramsden's servant alighted, and went in to deliver his letter to the doctor. the doctor was not at home; he had obtained his furlough of three weeks, and was very busy with his fishing-rod some thirty miles distant; but the keepers were in attendance, and, as mr ramsden's servant stated the insanity of mrs forster, and that she had been sent there by his master, they raised no objections to her reception. in a few minutes the servant reappeared with two keepers, who handed mrs forster out of the chaise, and conducted her to a receiving-room, where mrs forster waited some minutes in expectation of the appearance of doctor beddington. in the mean time, mr ramsden's servant, having no farther communication to make, left the letter for doctor beddington, and returned in the chaise to overton. after a quarter of an hour had elapsed, mrs forster inquired of one of the keepers, who had, much to her annoyance, taken a chair close to her, whether the doctor intended to come. "he'll come by-and-bye, good woman. how do you feel yourself now?" "very cold--very cold, indeed," replied mrs forster, shivering. "that's what the poor brutes always complain of--ar'nt it, jim?" observed another keeper, who had just entered. "where be we to stow her." "i sent tom to get number ready." "why, you don't think that i'm mad!" cried mrs forster, with terror. "so, softly--so--so," said the keeper next to her, patting her, as he would soothe a fractious child. the violence of mrs forster, when she discovered that she was considered as a lunatic, fully corroborated to the keepers the assertion of mr ramsden's servant; but we must not dwell upon the scene which followed. after an ineffectual struggle, mrs forster found herself locked up in number , and left to her own reflections. the previous scenes which had occurred, added to the treatment which she received in the asylum, caused such excitement, that, before the next morning, she was seized with a brain fever, and raved as loudly in her delirium as any of the other unfortunate inmates there incarcerated. volume one, chapter nine. who by repentance is not satisfied, is not of heaven or earth; for these are pleased; by penitence the eternal's wrath's appeased. shakespeare. mr ramsden's servant returned to overton, stating that the doctor was not at home, but that he had left mrs forster and the letter. the time that doctor beddington was to be absent had not been mentioned by the keepers; and mr ramsden, imagining that the doctor had probably gone out for the evening, made no further inquiries, as he intended, in a day or two, to call and bring mrs forster back to her own house. on the third day of her removal he set off for the asylum; and when he discovered the situation of mrs forster, he bitterly repented that he had been persuaded to a step which threatened such serious results. to remove her was impossible; to assert to the keepers that she was in sound mind, would have been to commit himself; he therefore withdrew his letter to doctor beddington, who was not expected home for a fortnight, and with a heavy heart returned to overton. miss dragwell was as much shocked when she was informed of the unfortunate issue of her plot; and made a resolution, to which she adhered, never to be guilty of another practical joke. in the mean time newton forster had made every despatch, and returned to overton with the cargo of shingle a few days after his mother's incarceration. he had not been ten minutes on shore before he was made acquainted with the melancholy history of her (supposed) madness and removal to the asylum. he hastened home, where he found his father in a profound melancholy: he received newton with a flood of tears, and appeared to be quite lost in his state of widowhood. the next morning newton set off for the asylum, to ascertain the condition of his mother. he was admitted; found her stretched on a bed, in a state of delirium, raving in her fever, and unconscious of his presence. the phrenzy of his mother being substantiated by what he had witnessed, and by the assurances of the keepers, to whom he made a present of half his small finances, to induce them to treat her with kindness, newton returned to overton, where he remained at home shut up with his father. in a few days notice was given by the town-crier, that the remaining stock of mr nicholas forster, optician, was to be disposed of by public auction. the fact was, that nicholas forster, like many other husbands, although his wife had been a source of constant annoyance, had become so habituated to her, that he was miserable now that she was gone. habit is more powerful than even love; and many a married couple continue to live comfortably together long after love has departed, from this most binding of all human sensations. nicholas determined to quit overton; and newton, who perceived that his father's happiness was at stake, immediately acquiesced in his wish. when nicholas forster resolved to leave the town where he had so long resided, he had no settled plans for the future; the present idea to remove from the scene connected with such painful associations, was all which occupied his thoughts. newton, who presumed that his father had some arranged plan, did not attempt to awaken him from his profound melancholy, to inquire into his intentions; and nicholas had never given the subject one moment of his thought. when all was ready, newton inquired of his father, in what manner he intended they should travel?--"why, outside the coach will be the cheapest, newton; and we have no money to spare. you had better take our places to-night." "to what place, father?" inquired newton. "i'm sure i don't know, newton," replied nicholas, as if just awoke. this answer produced a consultation; and after many _pros_ and _cons_, it was resolved that nicholas should proceed to liverpool, and settle in that town. the sloop commanded by newton was found defective in the stern port; and as it would take some little while to repair her, newton had obtained leave for a few days to accompany his father on his journey. the trunk picked up at sea, being too cumbrous, was deposited with the articles of least value, in the charge of mr dragwell; the remainder was taken away by newton, until he could find a more secure place for their deposit. on their arrival at liverpool, with little money and no friends, nicholas rented a small shop; and newton having extended his leave of absence to the furthest, that he might contribute to his father's comfort, returned to overton, to resume the command of the sloop. the first object was to call at the asylum, where he was informed that his mother was much less violent, but in so weak a state that he could not be admitted. doctor beddington had not returned; but a medical gentleman, who had been called in during his absence, stated to newton, that he had no doubt if his mother should recover from her present state of exhaustion, that her reason would be restored. newton returned to overton with a lightened heart, and the next day sailed in the sloop for bristol. contrary winds detained him more than a fortnight on his passage. on his arrival, his cargo was not ready, and newton amused himself by walking about the town and its environs. at last his cargo was on board; and newton, who was most anxious to ascertain the fate of his mother, made all haste to obtain his clearance and other papers from the custom-house. it was late in the evening before he had settled with the house to which the sloop had been consigned; but, as the wind and tide served, and there was a bright moon, he resolved to weigh that night. with his papers carefully buttoned in his coat, he was proceeding to the boat at the jetty, when he was seized by two men, who rushed upon him from behind. he hardly had time to look round to ascertain the cause, when a blow on the head stretched him senseless on the ground. now, my readers may probably feel some little distress at the misfortune of newton, and have some slight degree of curiosity to know the grounds of this severe treatment. i, on the contrary, am never more pleased than when i find my principal character in a state of abeyance, and leave him so with the greatest indifference, because it suits my convenience. i have now an opportunity of returning to mrs forster, or any other of the parties who act a subordinate part in my narrative; and, as newton is down on the ground, and _hors de combat_, why there let him lie--until i want him again. doctor beddington returned home long before the recovery of mrs forster from her severe attack. as it may be presumed, he found her perfectly rational; but still he had no doubt of the assertions of his keepers, that she was insane at the time that she was sent to the asylum by mr ramsden. the latter gentleman kept aloof until the issue of mrs forster's malady should be ascertained: if she recovered, it was his intention to call upon doctor beddington and explain the circumstances; if she died, he had determined to say nothing about it. mrs forster's recovery was tedious; her mind was loaded with anxiety, and, what was infinitely more important, with deep remorse. the supposed death of mr spinney had been occasioned by her violence, and she looked forward with alarm, as great as the regret with which she looked back upon her former behaviour. when she called to mind her unfeeling conduct towards her husband--the many years of bitterness she had created for him, her infraction of the marriage vow--the solemn promise before god to love, honour, and obey, daily and hourly violated,--her unjust hatred of her only son,--her want of charity towards others,--all her duties neglected,--swayed only by selfish and malignant passions,--with bitter tears of contrition and self-abasement, she acknowledged that her punishment was just. with streaming eyes, with supplicating hands and bended knees, she implored mercy and forgiveness of him, to whom appeal is never made in vain. passion's infuriate reign was over--her heart was changed! to doctor beddington she made neither complaint nor explanation. all she wished was to quit the asylum as soon as she was restored to health, and prove to her husband, by her future conduct, the sincerity of her reformation. when she became convalescent, by the advice of doctor beddington, she walked in a garden appropriated for the exercise of the more harmless inmates of the asylum. the first day that he went out she sat down upon a bench near to the keepers, who were watching those who were permitted to take the air and exercise, and overheard their discourse, which referred to herself. "why, what was it as made her mad--d'ye know, tom?" "they say she's been no better all her life," replied the other; "a rat would not live in the house with her: at last, in one of her tantrums, she nearly murdered old spinney, the clerk at overton. the report went out that he was dead; and conscience, i suppose, or summut of that kind, run away with her senses." "oh, he warn't killed, then?" "no, no: i seed him and heard him too, sunday fore last, when i went to call upon old father; i was obligated to go to church, the old gemman's so remarkable particular." "and what's become of her husband, and that handsome young chap, her son?" "i don't know, nor nobody else either. the old man, who was as worthy an old soul as ever breathed (more shame to the old faggot, for the life she led him!) grew very unhappy and melancholy, and would not stay in the place: they disposed of every thing, and both went away together; but nobody knows where the old man is gone to." "and the young un?" "oh, he came back and took command of the sloop. he was here twice, to see how his mother was. poor lad! it was quite pitiful to see how unhappy he was about the old catamaran. he give me and bill a guinea apiece, to be kind to her; but, about three days back, the sloop came into the harbour without him: they suppose that he fell off the jetty at bristol and was drowned for he was seen coming down to the boat; and, a'ter that, they never heard no more about him." "well, but tom, the old woman's all right now?" "yes, she's right enough; but, where be her husband, and where be her son? she'll never plague them any more, that's pretty sartain." the feelings of mrs forster at the finale of this discourse are not easy to be portrayed. one heavy load was off her mind--mr spinney was not dead; but how much had she also to lament? she perceived that she had been treacherously kidnapped by those who detested her conduct, but had no right to inflict the punishment. the kind and feeling conduct of her husband and of her son,--the departure of the one, and supposed death of the other, were blows which nearly overwhelmed her. she tottered back to her cell in a state of such extreme agitation, as to occasion a return of fever, and for many days she was unable to quit her bed. volume one, chapter ten. "when britain first at heaven's command arose from out the azure main, this was the charter, the charter of the land, and guardian angels sung the strain-- rule britannia, britannia rules the waves, for britons never shall be slaves." we left newton forster senseless on the pavement leading to the quay at bristol, floored by a rap on the head from a certain person or persons unknown: he did not however remain there long, being hoisted on the shoulders of two stout fellows, dressed in blue jackets and trousers, with heavy clubs in their hands, and a pistol lying perdu between their waistcoats and shirts. these nautical personages tumbled him into the stern-sheets of a boat, as if not at all sorry to rid themselves of his weight and, in a continued state of insensibility, newton was hoisted up the side of a cutter which lay at anchor about one hundred yards from the shore. when newton recovered his senses, his swimming eyes could just enable him to perceive that something flashed upon them, and in their weak state created a painful sensation. as he became more collected, he discovered that a man was holding a small candle close to them, to ascertain whether the vein which had been opened in his arm had produced the desired effect of restoring him to animation. newton tried to recollect where he was, and what had occurred; but the attempted exercise of his mental powers was too much, and again threw him into a state of stupor. at last he awoke as if from a dream of death, and looking round, found himself lying on the deck attended by a female, who bathed his forehead. "where am i?" exclaimed newton. "is it where you are, that you'd want for to know? a'nt ye on board of the lively cutter, sure? and a'nt you between decks in her, and i looking a'ter ye, honey?" "and who are you?" "and who am i! then if i'm not somebody else, i'm judy malony, the wife of the boatswain's mate, and a lawful married woman." "how did i come here?" continued newton, raising himself on his elbow. "you didn't come at all, honey, you were brought." "who brought me?" "who brought ye! it was either the gig or the jolly boat; but i wasn't on deck at the time, so i can't upon my oath say exactly which." "then pray can you tell me why i was brought here?" replied newton. "sure i can guess, bating you don't know already. it was to sarve your king and your country, like a brave volunteer as you are." "then i'm impressed?" "you may take your bible oath of it, my jewel, and commit no perjury. it's a hard rap that ye got, any how; just a hint that ye were wanted: but plase god, if ye live and do well, 'twill be nothing at all to what we'll have by-and-bye, all for the honour and glory of ould england." newton, who during these remarks was thinking of his father's situation, and the distress he would suffer without his assistance, and then of the state in which he had left his mother, again sank on the deck. "why he's off again!" muttered judy malony; "he's no countryman of mine, that's clear as the mud in the shannon, or he'd never fuss about a rap with a shillelah;" and judy, lifting up her petticoats first, gained her feet, and walked away forward. newton remained in a state of uneasy slumber until daylight, when he was awakened by the noise of boats coming alongside, and loud talking on deck. all that had passed did not immediately rush into his mind; but his arm tied up with the bandage, and his hair matted, and his face stiff with the coagulated blood, soon brought to his recollection the communication of judy malony, that he had been impressed. the 'tween decks of the cutter appeared deserted, unless indeed there were people in the hammocks slung over his head; and newton, anxious to obtain farther information, crawled under the hammocks to the ladder, and went up on deck. about twenty sailors, well armed, were busy handing out of the boats several men whom they had brought on board, who were ordered aft by the officer in command. newton perceived that most of them had not received much better treatment than he had on the preceding evening; some were shockingly disfigured, and were still bleeding profusely. "how many have you altogether, mr vincent?" said the lieutenant to a stout master's mate with a tremendous pair of whiskers, which his loose handkerchief discovered to join together at his throat. "seventeen, sir." "and how many had we before?--twenty-six, i think." "twenty-seven, sir, with the young chap i sent on board last night." "well, that will do; it's quite as many as we can stow away, or take care of:--pass them all down below, forward; take up the ladder, and put on the grating until we are out of the harbour. as soon as the jolly-boat comes on board we'll up anchor." "she'll be off directly, sir; i ordered her to wait for johnson and merton, who did not come down with us." "do you think they have given you the slip?" "i should think not, sir. here is the jolly-boat coming off." "well, pass the men forward, and secure them," replied the lieutenant. "overhaul the boat's falls, and bring to with the windlass." newton thought this a good opportunity to state that he was the master of a vessel, and, as such, protected from the impress; he therefore walked over to the lieutenant, addressing him, "i beg your pardon, sir--" "who are you?" interrupted the lieutenant, gruffly. "i was impressed last night, sir;--may i speak to you?" "no sir, you may not." "it might save you some trouble, sir." "it will save me more to send you down below. mr vincent, shove this man down forward; why is he at large?" "he was under the doctor's hands, i believe, sir. come this way, my hearty--stir your stumps." newton would have expostulated, but he was collared by two of the press-gang, and very unceremoniously handed forward to the hatchway; the grating was taken off, and he was lowered down to the deck below, where he found himself cooped up with more than forty others, almost suffocated for the want of air and space. the conversation (if conversation it could be called) was nothing but one continued string of curses and execrations, and vows of deep revenge. the jolly-boat returned, pulling only two oars; the remainder of her crew, with thompson and merton, having taken this opportunity of deserting from their forced servitude. with some hearty execrations upon the heads of the offending parties, and swearing that by god there was no such thing as _gratitude_ in a sailor, the commander of the cutter weighed his anchor, and proceeded to sea. the orders received by the lieutenant of the cutter, although not precisely specifying, still implying that he was to bring back his cargo alive, as soon as his majesty's cutter, lively, was fairly out at sea, the hatches were taken off, and the impressed men allowed to go on deck in the proportion of about one half at a time, two sailors, with drawn cutlasses, still remaining sentry at the coombings of the hatchway, in case of any discontented fellow presuming to dispute such lawful authority. newton forster was happy to be once more on deck; so much had he suffered during his few hours of confinement, that he really felt grateful for the indulgence. the sky was bright, and the cutter was dashing along the coast with the wind, two points free, at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour. she was what sailors term rather _a wet one_, and as she plunged through the short waves the sea broke continually over her bows and chesstree, so that there was no occasion to draw water for purification. newton washed his face and head, and felt quite revived as he inhaled the fresh breeze, and watched the coast as the vessel rapidly passed each head-land in her course. all around him were strangers, and no one appeared inclined to be communicative; even the most indifferent, the most stoical, expressed their ideas in disjointed sentences; they could not but feel that their project and speculations had been overthrown by a captivity so anomalous with their boasted birthright. "where are we going?" inquired newton of a man who stood next him, silently watching the passing foam created by the rapid course of the vessel. "to _hell_ i hope, with _those who brought us here_!" replied the man, grinding his teeth with a scowl of deep revenge. at this moment judy malony came pattering along the wet deck with a kid of potato-peelings to throw over the bows. newton recognised her, and thanked her for her kindness. "it's a nice boy that you are, sure enough, now that you're swate and clean," replied judy. "bad luck to the rapparee who gave you the blow! i axed my husband if it was he; but he swears upon his salvation that it was no one if it wasn't tim o'connor, the baste!" "where are we going?" inquired newton. "a'nt we going to dinner in a minute or two?" "i mean where is the cutter bound to?" "oh! the cutter you mane! if she can only find her way it's to plymouth, sure;--they're waiting for ye." "who is waiting for us?" "why, three fine frigates as can't go to sea without hands. you never heard of a ship sailing without hands; the poor dumb craturs can't do nothing by themselves." "do you know where the frigates are going?" "going to _say_, i lay my life on't," replied judy, who then walked forward, and broke up the conversation. the next morning the cutter ran into hamoaze, and boats were sent on board to remove the impressed men to the guard-ship. there, much to his annoyance and mortification, newton found, that with the others, he was treated as a close prisoner. the afternoon of the same day another vessel arrived from the eastward with a collection of offenders, who for a variety of crimes and misdemeanors had been sentenced to serve on board of a man-of-war. no distinction was made; all were huddled together, and treated alike, until summoned on the quarterdeck, when their names were called out for distribution to the several men-of-war. each ship having a quota of seamen and pickpockets allotted to her in due proportion, the men were ordered down into the boats; and in less than an hour newton found himself on board of a fine frigate lying in the sound, with her fore-topsail losse, as a signal of her immediate departure. volume one, chapter eleven. 'tis man's bold task the gen'rous strife to try, but in the hands of god is victory. iliad. newton, and the other men who had been selected for the frigate, on board of which they had been despatched (victualled the day discharged), were mustered on the quarter-deck by the first lieutenant, who asked them the questions, whether they were bred to the sea, and could take the helm and lead. having noted down their answers, he stationed them accordingly, and they were dismissed. newton would again have appealed, but on reflection thought it advisable to await the arrival of the captain. beds and blankets were not supplied that evening: the boats were hoisted up, sentries on the gang ways supplied with ball-cartridges to prevent desertion, and permission granted to the impressed men to "prick for the softest plank" which they could find for their night's repose. at daylight the hands were turned up, the capstern manned, the frigate unmoored, and hove "short stay a-peak" on her anchor remaining down. the gig was sent on shore with two midshipmen, one to watch the men and prevent their desertion, while the other went up to the captain's lodgings to report her arrival: the topsails were loosed, sheeted home, and hoisted, the yards braced by, and newton to his sorrow perceived that the captain's arrival would be the signal for immediate departure. the signalman, on the look-out with his glass, reported the gig coming off with the captain; and in obedience to the orders he had received, the first-lieutenant immediately hove up, and the anchor having been "catted and fished," the frigate lay-to in the sound. as soon as the boat came alongside, and the captain had been received with the customary honours, he desired sail to be made on her as soon as the boat was hoisted up, and then descended to his cabin. in three minutes newton perceived that all chance of release for the present was over; the courses and topgallant sails were set, and the frigate darted past the ram head at the rate of ten miles per hour. in about twenty minutes, after the messenger had been stowed away, the cables coiled in the tiers, and the ropes flemished down on deck, the captain made his appearance, and directed the first-lieutenant to send aft the newly impressed men. in few words he pointed out to them the necessity of their servitude; and concluded by recommending them to enter his majesty's service, and receive the bounty to which they would become entitled; observing, that the men who did so would raise themselves in his good opinion, and as far as he had the power, would not be forgotten by him, provided that their general good conduct merited his favour. some few accepted the terms, but the most of them positively refused. when newton was addressed, he stated to the captain that he was master of a vessel, and exempted by law from the impress. "it is easy to assert that," observed the captain; "but where are your proofs? your youth almost denies what you affirm." "there are my papers, sir, my clearance from the custom-house, and my bill of lading, which i had in my pocket, intending to sail a few minutes after the time that i was impressed." "i observe," replied the captain, examining the papers, "they appear to be all correct. what is your name?" "newton forster." "then this is your signature?" "it is, sir." mr pittson, desire the clerk to bring up a pen and ink. the clerk made his appearance.--"now, sign your name."--newton obeyed, and his signature was compared with that on the bill of lading, by the captain and first-lieutenant. "why did you not mention this before?" continued the captain. "i attempted several times, but was not permitted to speak." newton then stated how he had been treated when impressed, and afterwards by the officer commanding the cutter. "you certainly were exempted from the impress, if what you state is true; and i believe it so to be," replied the captain.--"it is a hard case; but what can i do? here we are at sea, and likely to remain on a cruise of several months. you cannot expect to eat the bread of idleness on board of a man-of-war. you will do your duty wherever you are stationed. there is no disgrace in serving his majesty, in any capacity. i tell you candidly, that although i would not have impressed you myself, i am very glad that i have you on board; i wish i had fifty more of the same sort, instead of the sweepings of the gaols, which i am obliged to mix up with prime seamen." "perhaps, sir, you will have the kindness to send me back by the first homeward-bound vessel?" "no, that i cannot do; you are on the ship's books, and the case must be referred to the admiralty on our return: that it will be my duty to attend to, upon your application; but i hope before that you will have entered into his majesty's service." "and in the mean time my poor father may starve," said newton, with a sigh, not addressing those around him, but giving utterance to his thoughts. the captain turned away, and paced the quarter-deck with the first-lieutenant. at last he was overheard to say--"it's a very hard case, certainly. forster, can you navigate?" continued the captain, addressing newton. "yes, sir, i can work up a dead reckoning, and take the sun's altitude." "very well, that will do.--mr pittson, you may dismiss them. are they put into messes?" "all, sir." "it's twelve o'clock, sir," said the master, touching his hat, with his quadrant in his hand. "make it so, and pipe to dinner." newton was stationed in the foretop. in a few days the awkwardness arising from the novelty of the scene and from the superior dimensions of every variety of equipment on board of the frigate, compared to the small craft to which he had been accustomed, passed away. the order which was exacted to preserve discipline, the precision with which the time was regulated, the knowledge of the duty allotted to him, soon made him feel that no more was exacted than what could easily be performed, and that there was no hardship in serving on board of a man-of-war; the only hardship was, the manner in which he had been brought there. although he often sighed as he thought of his father and mother, he did his duty cheerfully, and was soon distinguished as a most promising young sailor. captain northfleet was a humane and good officer, and his first-lieutenant followed in his steps, and equally deserved the character. before the ship's company had been six weeks together, they were in a tolerable state of discipline; and proved such to be the case, by acknowledging that they were happy. this, added to the constant excitement of chasing and capturing the vessels of the enemy with the anticipation of prize-money, soon made most of those who had been impressed, forget what had occurred, or cease to lament it as a hardship. the continual exercise of the guns was invariably followed up by a general wish that they might fall in with an enemy of equal force, to ascertain whether such constant drilling had been thrown away upon them. the terpsichore received supplies of provisions and water from other ships, and for nine months continued a successful cruise. several prizes had already been captured, and sent home to england. the complement of the frigate was materially reduced by so many absentees, although some of her men had been brought out to her by other vessels, when a strange sail was discovered from the mast-head. a few hours sufficed to bring the swift terpsichore alongside of the stranger, who first hoisted, and then immediately hauled down the tricoloured flag in token of submission. she proved to be a french brig, bound to the cape of good hope, with ammunition and government stores. the third-lieutenant, and all the midshipmen who could navigate, were already away; and this prize proving valuable, captain northfleet resolved to send her in. the difficulty relative to a prize-master was removed by the first-lieutenant, who recommended newton forster. to this suggestion the captain acceeded; and newton, with five men, and two french prisoners to assist, was put on board of the estelle, with written instructions to repair to plymouth, and, upon his arrival there, deliver up the prize to the agent, and report himself to the admiral. captain northfleet also returned to newton the papers of his sloop, and gave him a letter to the admiral, stating the hardship of his case. at the same time that he informed him of the contents of his letter, he recommended newton to continue in the service, promising that, if he took the vessel safe into port, he would put him on the quarterdeck, as one of the mates of the frigate. newton thanked captain northfleet for his good intentions; and, requesting permission to reflect upon his proposal, took his leave, and in a few minutes was on board of the estelle. there was a buoyancy of spirits in newton when he once more found himself clear of the frigate. he acknowledged that he had been well treated, and that he had not been unhappy; but still it was emancipation from forced servitude. it is hard to please where there are so many masters; and petty tyranny will exist, and cause much discontent before it is discovered, even where the best discipline prevails. the imperious behaviour of the young midshipmen, who assume the same despotic sway which is exercised over themselves, as soon as their superiors are out of sight and hearing, was often extremely galling to newton forster, and it frequently required much forbearance not to retort. however in strict justice this might be warranted, discipline would not permit it, and it would have been attended with severe punishment. it was therefore with a feeling of delight, that newton found himself his own master, and watched the hull and canvass of the terpsichore, as they gradually sunk below the horizon. the estelle was a fine vessel, and her cargo not being all composed of heavy materials, was sufficiently light on the water to sail well. at the time of her capture, they were, by the reckoning of the frigate, about fourteen hundred miles from the lizard. in a fortnight, therefore, with the wind at all propitious, newton hoped to set his foot upon his native land. he crowded all the sail which prudence would allow; and, with the wind upon his quarter, steered his course for england. the men sent with him in the brig consisted of two able seamen, and three of the gang which had been collected from the gaols and brought round from the eastward. captain northfleet spared the former, as it was necessary that a part of the crew should be able to steer and navigate the vessel; the latter, with the sincere hope of never seeing them again, taking it for granted that they would run away as soon as they arrived at plymouth. with the two prisoners, they were sufficient to work the vessel. during the first ten days the wind was generally in their favour, and the brig was not far off from the chops of the channel, when a low raking vessel was perceived bearing down upon them from the north west. newton had no glass; but as she neared to within three miles, the vessel wore the appearance of a privateer schooner; but whether an enemy or not, it was impossible to decide. the estelle had two small brass guns on her forecastle; and newton, to ascertain the nation to which the privateer belonged, hoisted the french ensign and fired a gun. in a minute the privateer hoisted english colours; but as she continued to bear down upon them, newton, not feeling secure, rove his studding sail gear, and made all preparation for running before the wind, which he knew to be the brig's best point of sailing. the privateer had approached to within two miles, when roberts, one of the seamen, gave his decided opinion that she was a french vessel, pointing out the slight varieties in the rigging and build of the vessel, which would not have been apparent to any one but a thorough-bred seaman. "we'd better up helm, and get the sail upon her. if she be french, she'll soon show herself by firing at us." newton was of the same opinion. the brig was put before the wind, and gradually all her canvass was spread. the privateer immediately shook out all her reefs, set her lofty sails, hoisted french colours, and, in a few minutes, a shot whizzed through the rigging of the estelle, and pitched into the water ahead of them. "i thought so," cried roberts. "it's a johnny crapeau. a starn chase is a long chase, anyhow. the brig sails well, and there ain't more than two hours daylight; so monsieur must be quick, or we'll give him the slip yet." the privateer was now within a mile of them; both vessels had "got their way;" and their respective powers of sailing were to be ascertained. in half an hour the privateer had neared to three quarters of a mile. "i think our little guns will soon reach her," observed newton. "williams, give me the helm. go forward with roberts and the men, and rouse them aft. be smart, my lads, for she has the heels of us." "come along," said roberts. "you, collins, why don't you stir?--do you wish to see the inside of a french prison?" "no," replied collins, sauntering forward, "not particularly." "only by way of a change, i suppose," observed thompson, another of the convicts. "you have been in every gaol in england, to my knowledge-- havn't you, ben?" "mayhap i have," replied collins; "but one gentleman should never interfere with the consarns of another. i warn't whipped at the cart-tail, as you were, last lancaster 'sizes." "no; but you had a taste of it on board of the terpsichore. ben, you aren't forgot that?" retorted hillson, the other of the three characters who had been sent with newton. in a few minutes the guns were run aft, and the ammunition brought on deck. newton then gave the helm to williams, and served one gun; while roberts took charge of the other. the privateer had continued to near them, and was now within their range. a smart fire was kept up on her, which she returned with her superior metal. after the firing had commenced, the approach of the privateer was in some degree checked. the guns fired from the stern of the estelle assisted her velocity through the water; while, on the contrary, the privateer, being obliged to yaw from her course that her guns might bear, and firing from the bow, her impetus was checked. still the privateer had the advantage in sailing, and slowly neared the brig. "there's no need of your coming aft so close upon us," said roberts to the two frenchmen who had been sent on board; "go forward, and keep out of the way. that 'ere chap is after mischief; he had his eye upon the _amminition_," continued the sailor to newton. "go forward--d'ye hear? or i'll split your damned french skull with the handspike." "don't touch him, roberts," said newton. "no, i won't touch him, if he keeps out of my way. do you hear?--go forward!" cried roberts to the frenchman, waving his hand. the frenchman answered with a sneer and a smile, and was turning to obey the order, when a shot from the privateer cut him nearly in two. the other frenchman, who was close to him, made a rapid descent into the cabin. "that was well meant, any how," observed roberts, looking at the dead body; "but it wasn't meant for him. shall i toss him overboard?" "no, no--let him lie. if they capture us, they will perceive it was their own doing." "well, then, i'll only haul him into the lee-scuppers, out of the way." another shot from the privateer passed through the cabin windows, and went forward into the hold. the french prisoner ran on deck with as much haste as before he had run below. "ay, it will be your turn next, my cock," cried roberts, who had been removing the body to the gunnel. "now, let me try my luck again," and he hastened to his gun. newton fired before roberts was ready. the topsail-sheet of the schooner was divided by the shot, and the sail flew out before the yard. "that's a good two cables' length in our favour," cried roberts. "now for me." roberts fired his gun, and was more fortunate; his shot struck away the fore-top-gallant mast, while the royal and top-gallant-sail fell before the topsail. "well done, my little piece of brass!" said roberts, slapping the gun familiarly on the breech; "only get us out of our scrape, and i'll polish you as bright as silver!" whether the gun understood him or not, or, what is more probable, the short distance between the brig and the privateer, made it more effective, more mischief took place in the sails and rigging of the schooner. her topsail-sheet was, however, soon re-bent, the sail reset, and her other casualties made good. she ceased firing her long gun, and at dusk had crept up to within a quarter of a mile, and commenced a heavy fire of musketry upon the brig. "this is rather warm work," observed williams at the helm, pointing to a bullet-hole through his jacket. "rather too warm," observed collins, the convict. "i don't see why we are to risk our lives for our paltry share of prize-money. i vote for hauling down the colours." "not yet," said newton, "not yet, my lads. let us try a few shots more." "try!--to be sure," rejoined roberts, "didn't i say before, that a starn chase was a long one." "that only makes the matter worse," replied collins; "for while we are to be peppered this way, i think the shorter the chase the better. however, you may do as you please, but i'm not so fond of it;--so here's down below to the fore-peak!" "ben, you're a sensible chap, and gives good advice; we'll just follow you," said hillson. "birds of a feather always flock together; so, ben, i'm of your party," added thompson. the convicts then descended forward out of the fire of the musketry, while newton and roberts continued to load and fire, and williams steered the brig. the frenchman had already found his way below again, before the convicts. the schooner was within two cables' length, and the fire of the musketry was most galling; each of the english seamen had received slight wounds, when, just as it was dark, one of the shot from the brig proved more effective. the main-boom of the schooner was either cut in two, or so much injured as to oblige them to lower her mainsail, the brig now increased her distance fast, and in a few minutes they lost sight of the schooner in the darkness of the night. "huzza!" cried roberts, "didn't i tell you that a starn chase was a long one?" not a star was to be seen; the darkness was intense, and newton consulted with williams and roberts, as to what was their best plan of proceeding. it was agreed to haul up for a quarter of an hour, then furl all, and allow the privateer to pass them. this was put in execution; the convicts, now that there was no more firing, coming to their assistance. the next morning the weather proved hazy, and the schooner, who had evidently crowded sail in pursuit of them, was nowhere to be seen. newton and his crew congratulated themselves upon their escape, and again shaped their course for the channel. the wind would not allow them to keep clear of ushant, and two days afterwards they made the french coast, near to that island. the next morning they had a slant of wind, which enabled them to lay her head up for plymouth, and anticipated that in another twenty-four hours they would be in safety. such, however, was not their good fortune; about noon a schooner hove in sight to leeward, and it was soon ascertained to be the same vessel from which they had previously escaped. before dusk she was close to them; and newton, aware of the impossibility of resistance, hove-to, as a signal of surrender. volume one, chapter twelve. misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. shakespeare. as the reader may have, before now, occasionally heard comments upon the uncertainty of the moon and of the sea, and also, perhaps, of human life, i shall not venture any farther remarks upon the subject; for were they even new, i should never have the credit of them. this is certain, that instead of finding themselves, as they anticipated to be in the next twenty-four hours, safely moored in the port of plymouth, newton and his comrades found themselves before that time had elapsed safely locked up in the prison of morlaix. but we must not proceed so fast. although the estelle had squared her mainyard as a signal of submission, the privateer's men, as they ranged their vessel alongside, thought it advisable to pour in a volley of musketry: this might have proved serious, had it not been that newton and his crew were all down below, hoping to secure a few changes of linen, which in a prison, might prove very useful. as it was, their volley only killed the remaining french prisoner, who remained on deck, overjoyed at the recapture, and anticipating an immediate return to his own country; by which it would appear that the "_l'homme propose, mais dieu dispose_" of france, is quite as sure a proverb as the more homely "many a slip between the cup and lip" of our own country. the boat of the privateer was sent on board; a dozen men, with their cutlasses flourishing over their heads, leapt on the deck of the estelle, and found nobody to exercise their valour upon, except the body of their departed comrade; upon which they shouted for the "sacre's god dams" to "monter." newton and the rest obeyed the summons, with their bundles in their hands: the latter they were soon relieved of by their conquerors, who, to prove that it was not out of "_politesse_" that they carried their effects, at the same time saluted them with various blows with their cutlasses upon their backs and shoulders. newton, who felt that resistance would only be an excuse for farther aggression, bore with philosophy what he could not prevent, and hastened into the boat. the convicts also took their share with patience--they had been accustomed to "many stripes." roberts and williams, in spite of the remonstrances of newton, with all the reckless spirit of english sailors, would not submit so quietly. the first object which attracted roberts' attention, as he came up the ladder, was the body of the remaining french prisoner. "what! johnny, so you're gone! didn't i tell you that your turn would come next? i say, my hearties, you keep all your bullets for your friends," continued roberts, addressing the privateer's men. a few "sacres" and "f---s" was the reply, as one of them attempted to twitch his bundle out of his hand.--"hold fast there, old chap, don't take what you never paid for." a scuffle now ensued; which ended in roberts, who found that he could not retain possession, shying his bundle at the foremost man, with such force as to lay him on the deck.--"well, if you will have it, take it," cried roberts. "the beggars have chopped my fingers," growled williams. "i say mounseer, don't make quite so free with that iron of yours; or i'll smash your top-lights." "i wish i had three on 'em on point beach, one up and one down. i'd sarve you out, you damned frog-eating sea-cooks!" said roberts, squaring at the privateers' men with clenched fists. this obstreperous conduct produced a shower of blows with the backs of the cutlasses. williams, in a rage, wrenched a cutlass from one of the frenchmen, and laid about him; while roberts, with his fists, rushed within their guards, and laid two of them at his feet. at last they were overpowered and thrown into the boat, bleeding profusely from various cuts which they had received in the unequal scuffle. the privateers' people then shoved off; and rowed on board of the schooner. as soon as newton and the other englishmen were up the side they were pushed aft; their persons were then searched, and every part of their apparel, which appeared to be of good materials or little worn, was taken from them. collins, the convict, was a good prize; he had put on shirt over shirt, stocking over stocking, and trousers over trousers, that the frenchmen began to wonder if ever they should arrive at the "inner man." at last, he was uncased, an old pair of trousers thrown to him, and he was left without any other garment, shivering in the cold. newton, who still retained his waistcoat and shirt, took off the former and gave it to the convict, who whispered as he thanked him, "i don't care a fig, they have left me my old hat." as soon as the recapture was manned, the privateer bore up for the french coast, and before morning anchored in the rocky harbour of morlaix. at daylight the prisoners, who had received no refreshment, were handed into a boat, and on their landing, conducted by a party of _gens d'armes_ to the prison. during their progress to their place of confinement collins excited the amusement of the bystanders, and the surprise of his fellow-prisoners, by walking with his hands and arms raised in a certain position. after they had been locked up, he went to the barred window, and continued the same gestures to the people who were crowded about the prison, most of whom continued their mockery. newton, who came forward to the window to request a little water for roberts and williams, who wished to quench their thirst and wash their wounds, which had not been dressed, inquired of collins his reason for so doing. "it is for your benefit as well as mine," replied collins: "at least i hope so. there are freemasons in all countries." a few minutes afterwards, one of the people outside came forward, and pointed out to the sentry that the prisoners were making signs for water. the _gendarme_, who had paid no attention to newton, listened to the appeal of his countryman, who, upon the grounds of common humanity, persuaded him to allow them such a necessary boon. the water was brought, and as the man walked away a sign unperceived by all but collins, gave him to understand that his appeal had been understood. "all's right," said collins to newton, as he quitted the grating. "we have friends without, and we have friends within." in about an hour some bread was brought in, and among those who brought it collins perceived the person who had answered his signal; but no farther recognition took place. at noon the door of the prison was again unbarred, and a surgeon came to dress the wounded men. he was accompanied by two or three others, deputed by the governor of the town to obtain intelligence, and the new acquaintance of collins appeared as interpreter. while the surgeon dressed the wounds of roberts and williams; which, although numerous, were none of any importance, many questions were asked, and taken down when interpreted. each prisoner was separately interrogated; collins was one of the first examined. the questions put and answers given were carefully intermixed with more important matter. the person who acted as interpreter spoke english too well for a frenchman; apparently he was a dane or russian, who was domiciliated there. he commenced with:-- "no one understands english but me--but they are suspicious; be careful.--what is your name?" "john collins." "comment?" said the french amanuensis, "john co-lin. c'est bien; continuez." "what is your rank--_and in your lodge_?" "common seaman--master," answered collins adroitly. "comment?" said the party with his pen. "matelot," replied the interpreter. "demandez-lui le nom du batiment." "what is the name of your ship?--_how can we assist you_?" "terpsichore--_a boat, with provisions_." "comment?" "fregate croiseur terpsichore." "does she sail well?--_at what time_?" "_to-night, with a guide_." "que dit-il?" "elle marche bien avec le vent large." "demandez-lui la force." "what number of guns?--_how can you get out_?" "thirty-six guns.--_i have the means_." "trente-six canons." "trente-six canons," repeated the frenchman, writing, "c'est bien-- alors, l'equipage." "how many men?--_i will be here at dark_." "two hundred and seventy men; but many away in prizes." "deux cents soixante-dix hommes d'equipage; mais il y a beaucoup dans les batimens pris." newton and the others were also interrogated, the names taken down, and the parties then quitted the prison. "now, if we make a push for it, i think we may get off," said collins to newton and the rest, after the door had closed. "i never saw the prison in england which could hold me when i felt inclined to walk out of it; and as for their bars, i reckon them at about an hour's work. i never travel without my little friends;"--and collins, taking off his old hat, removed the lining, and produced a variety of small saws made from watch-springs, files, and other instruments. "then," continued he, "with these and this piece of tallow stuck outside my hat, i will be through those bars in no time. french iron ar'nt worth a damn, and the sentry shan't hear me if he lolls against them; although it may be just as well if thompson tips a stave, as then we may work the faster." "i say, bill," observed hillson, "who is your friend?" "i don't know--he may be the governor; but this i do know, for the honour of freemasonry, we may trust him and all like him; so just mind your own business, tom."--"he said he would be here at dark," observed newton. "yes,--i must prepare--go to the grating some of you, that they may not look in upon me." this unexpected prospect of deliverance created an anxious joy in the breasts of the prisoners; the day appeared interminable. at last, the shades of night set in, and a clouded sky with mizzling rain raised their hopes. the square in front of the prison was deserted, and the sentinel crouched close against the door, which partially protected him from the weather. in a few minutes a person was heard in conversation with the sentinel. "he must be coming now," observed collins in a low tone: "that must be one of his assistants who is taking off the attention of the _gens d'arme_." "make no noise," said a voice in a whisper, at the outside of the bars. "i am here," replied collins softly. "how can you get out of the prison?" "get the sentry out of the way when we leave off singing; the bars will then be removed." "every thing is prepared outside. when you get out keep close under the wall to the right. i shall be at the corner, if i am not here." the freemason then retired from the grating. "now, thompson, not too loud, there's no occasion for it; two of us can work." thompson commenced his song; newton took a small saw from collins, who directed him how to use it. the iron bars of the prison yielded like wood to the fine-tempered instruments which collins employed. in an hour and a half three of the bars were removed without noise, and the aperture was wide enough for their escape. the singing of thompson, whose voice was tolerably good and ear very correct, had not only the effect of preventing their working being heard, but amused the sentinel, who remained with his back to the wall listening to the melody. their work was so far accomplished. thompson ceased, and all was silence and anxiety; in a few minutes the sentinel was again heard in conversation, and the voices receded, as if he had removed to a greater distance. "now, brother," said the low voice under the aperture. in a minute the whole of the prisoners were clear of the walls, and followed their guide in silence, until they reached the landing-place. "there is the boat, and provisions sufficient," said the freemason, in a low tone; "you will have to pass the sentries on the rocks: but we can do no more for you. farewell, brother; and may you and your companions be fortunate!" so saying, their friendly assistant disappeared. the night was so dark, that although close to the boat it was with difficulty that its outline could be discerned. newton, recommending the strictest silence and care in entering, stepped into it, and was followed by the rest. roberts, whose eyesight was a little affected from the wounds in his head, stumbled over one of the oars. "_qui vive_?" cried out one of the sentries on the rock. no answer was made; they all remained motionless in their seats. the sentry walked to the edge of the rock and looked down; but not distinguishing any thing, and hearing no further noise, returned to his post. for some little while newton would not allow them to move: the oars were then carefully lifted over the gunnel, and their clothes laid in the rollocks, to muffle the sound; the boat was pushed from the landing-place into the middle of the narrow inlet. the tide was ebbing, and with their oars raised out of the water, ready to give way if perceived, they allowed the boat to drift out of one of the narrow channels which formed the entrance of the harbour. the rain now beat down fast, and anxious to be well clear of the coast before daylight, newton thought they might venture to pull. the oars were taken by him and collins; but before they had laid them three times in the water one of the sentries, hearing the noise, discharged his musket in the direction. "give way, now, as hard as we can," cried newton; "it's our only chance." another and another musket was fired. they heard the guard turned out; lights passing on the batteries close to them, and row-boats manning. they double-banked their oars, and with the assistance of the ebb tide and obscurity they were soon out of gunshot. they then laid in their oars, shipped their mast, and sailed away from the coast. it was nine o'clock in the evening when they started, and at daylight the french coast was not to be seen. overjoyed at their escape, they commenced an attack upon the provisions and a small keg of wine; and perhaps a more joyful breakfast never was made. the sun rose in vapour, the sky threatened, but they were free and happy. the wind freshened, and the boat flew before the gale; the running seas topping over her stern, and forcing them continually to bale her out; but all was joy, and freedom turned their "danger to delight." they passed several vessels at a distance, who did not observe them; and before sunset the english coast was in sight. at ten o'clock the double lights on the lizard were on their starboard bow. they hauled up upon the larboard tack with the ebb tide, and having passed the lizard, kept away for mount's bay, to avoid the chance of falling in with any of the king's vessels, and being again impressed. at daylight they ran in under st. michael's mount and once more stepped upon english ground. here, as by previous agreement, they divided the provisions, and took farewell of each other. "good bye, gentlemen," said collins; "allow me to observe that, for once, you may think yourselves fortunate in having been placed in my very respectable company!" volume one, chapter thirteen. once more upon the waters. byron. as newton had lost his credentials from captain northfleet, as well as the vessel confided to his charge, he did not consider it necessary to pay his respects to the port admiral at plymouth. on the contrary, he set off as fast as his legs could carry him to liverpool, to ascertain the condition of his father. we shall pass over the difficulties he experienced on his journey. there is no country where travelling is more easy or more rapid, than in england, provided that you have plenty of money; but when you travel _in forma pauperis_, there is no country in which you get on so badly. parish rates and poor laws have dried up the sources of benevolence; and as newton did not apply to the overseers for his three-half-pence a mile, he got on how he could, which was badly enough. when at last he did arrive at liverpool, he found himself a stone or two the lighter, and would have been pronounced by captain barclay to have been in excellent training. newton had written to his father, acquainting him with his impressment; but was doubtful whether the letter had ever been received, as it had been confided to the care of one of the women who left the frigate the evening previous to her sailing. when he arrived at the house he perceived his father at his bench as usual, but doing nothing, and the shop windows were bare. newton entered, and his father looked up. "why, newton, my dear boy, is it you?" cried nicholas; "what a long while you have been away! well, how is mr hilton?--and how is your poor mother?" "my dear father," replied newton, taking his hand, "did not you receive my letter?" "no, i received no letter. what a time you have been away i declare it must be two or three months, or more." "it is nearly twelve months, my dear father: i was pressed at bristol, have been on board of a man-of-war; and have just escaped from a french prison." newton then entered into a narrative of his adventures, to the astonishment of nicholas, who heard him with open mouth. "dear me! so you've been in a man-of-war, and in france; then you don't know how your poor mother is?" "have you not inquired, my dear father?" "no, i thought you would come home, and tell me all about it," replied nicholas with a sigh. "how have you got on here?" said newton, to change the conversation. "very bad indeed, newton--very bad indeed; i have not had six jobs since you left me." "i am sorry to hear it, father; have you any thing to eat in the house, for i am very hungry?" "i am afraid not much," replied nicholas, going to the cupboard, and producing some bread and cheese. "can you eat bread and cheese, my dear boy?" "i could eat a horse, my dear father," replied newton, who had walked the last twelve hours without sustenance. newton attacked the provender, which soon disappeared. "i have been obliged to sell most of the shop furniture," said nicholas, observing newton to cast his eyes at the empty window. "i could not help it. i believe nobody wears spectacles in liverpool." "it can't be helped, father; we must hope for better times." "yes, we must trust in god, newton. i sold my watch yesterday, and that will feed us for some time. a sailor came into the shop, and asked if i had any watches to sell: i told him that i only repaired them at present; but that when my improvement in the duplex--" here nicholas forgot the thread of his narrative, and was commencing a calculation upon his intended improvement, when newton interrupted him. "well, sir, what did the sailor reply?" "oh! i forgot; i told him that i had a watch of my own, that i would part with it, which went very well; and that it would be cheaper to him than a new one; that it cost fifteen pounds; but i was in want of money, and would take five pounds for it. he saw how sorry i was to part with it--and so i was." here nicholas thought of his watch, and forgot his story. "well, my dear father," said newton, "what did he give you for it?" "oh!--why, he was a kind good creature, and said that he was not the man to take advantage of a poor devil in distress, and that i should have the full value of it. he put the watch in his fob and counted out fifteen pounds on the counter. i wanted to return part: but he walked out of the shop, and before i could get round the counter he had got round the corner of the street." "'twas a god-send, my dear father," replied newton, "for i have not a halfpenny. do you know what became of my chest, that i left on board of the sloop?" "dear me! now i think of it, it came here by the waggon. i put it up stairs. i wondered why you sent it." newton having appeased his hunger, went up stairs, and found all his wearing apparel had been forwarded by mr hilton, who supposed him dead, and that he was enabled to make a more respectable appearance than what the privateer's people had hitherto permitted him. in a few days he felt quite recovered from his fatigue, and sallied forth in search of employment. on the day after his arrival at liverpool he had written to the asylum, to inquire the fate of his mother. the answer which he received was, that mrs forster had recovered, and remained many months in the establishment as nurse; but that ten days back she had quitted the asylum, and that her address was not known. newton, who had no means of prosecuting further inquiry, was obliged to be satisfied with the intelligence that his mother was alive and well. he communicated the information to nicholas, who observed-- "poor thing; she's looking for us, depend upon it, newton, and will be here very soon:" and this expectation was revived whenever nicholas thought of his wife; and he continued satisfied. we must allow many months to pass away in one paragraph--months of ineffectual struggle against poverty and want of employment, which newton made every exertion to obtain as mate of a merchant vessel. the way in which he had been impressed had caused a dread of the king's service, which he could not overcome; and although he had but to choose his ship as a sailor before the mast, he could not prevail upon himself to accept a berth which was not protected from the impress. without recommendation he could not obtain the situation of mate, and he continued to work as a rigger in the docks, until his hand was unfortunately severely jammed by the heel of a topmast, and he was laid up for many weeks. each day their fare became scantier, and they were reduced to their last shilling, when newton was again able to go out and seek employment. it was a rough day, blowing hard from the south east, when newton, who had tried his fortune on board of every vessel (crowded as they were in the docks) without success, walked in a melancholy and disappointed mood along the splendid pier which lines the river-side. few people were out, for the gusts of wind were accompanied by smart driving showers of rain. here and there was to be seen a boat pulling up in shore to fetch the shipping in the stream, who with a heavy strain on their cables were riding to the south east gale, and a strong ebb tide. newton had made up his mind to enter on board of one of these vessels about to, sail, provided they would advance him a part of his wages for his father's support; when, as a heavy squall cleared away, he perceived that a boat had broken adrift from the outermost vessel (a large brig), with only one man in it, who was carried away by the rapid current, assisted by the gale blowing down the river, so as to place him in considerable risk. the man in the boat tossed out his oar, and pulling first on one side, and then on the other, tried to make for the shore; but in vain. he was swept away with a rapidity which threatened in less than an hour to carry him out to sea, unless assistance were afforded him. another heavy squall again hid the boat from the sight of newton, who had been anxiously watching to ascertain if any relief was sent from the shipping, and who was now convinced that the disaster had not been perceived. he therefore ran down the bank of the river, waiting until the squall should blow over, and enable him to discover the boat. in about ten minutes the squall passed over, and the boat was again presented to his sight; she was still in the centre of the stream, about three hundred yards from the shore. the man who was in her, finding all his attempts futile, had lain on his oar, and was kneeling in the stern sheets, apparently in supplication. newton could not resist the appeal; it appeared to point out to him that he was summoned to answer the call made upon providence. the boat was now a quarter of a mile farther down the river than where he stood, and about three miles from the town and shipping, both of which were no longer discernible from the thickness of the weather. newton threw off his coat, and plunging into the agitated water, the cold of which nearly checked his respiration, swam off into the stream in a direction so as to allow himself to fetch to windward of the boat. he was soon carried down to it by the rapidity of the tide, and, as he approached, he shouted to announce his presence. the man in the boat started up at the sound of a human voice, and perceiving newton close to the bows, lent over and extended his hand towards, him. newton seized hold of it, and then was whirled round by the tide fore and aft with the side of the boat, with such violence as nearly to drag the other man out, and half fill the boat with water. it was with great difficulty, although assisted by the occupant, that newton contrived at last to get in; when, exhausted with the efforts he had made, he remained a few seconds without motion; the man, whom he had thus risked his life to save, perceiving his condition, and not speaking to him. "we have no time to lose," said newton, at last: "take an oar, and let us pull in for the shore. if once we are swept down to the narrows there will be little chance for us." the other complied, without speaking; and, after a few minutes exertion the boat was safely landed on the liverpool side of the river. "the lord be praised!" ejaculated newton's companion, as he laid on his oar. "i did not call upon _him_ in vain; your accident has been the means of my preservation." "how do you mean?" inquired newton. "why, did you not fall overboard?" replied the other. newton then explained to his companion what we have already related to the reader, ending his narrative with the observation, that when he perceived him praying for assistance in his peril, he could not resist the appeal. "god will reward you, young man," continued he: "and now i will explain to you how it was that i was adrift, like a bear in a washing-tub. my first-mate was below. i had just relieved the deck, for in this blowing weather we must keep watch in harbour. the men were all at their dinner, when i heard the boat thumping under the main channels. i got into her to ease off a fathom or two of the painter; but as i hauled her ahead to get at the bend, it appears that the monkey of a boy who made her fast, and has been but a few months at sea, had made a `_slippery hitch_;' so away it went, and i was adrift. i hailed them on board; but they did not hear me, although the first-mate might have, for he was in the cabin, and the stern window was up; but hailing to windward is hard work, such weather as this; the words are blown back again down your own throat. and now, let me know a little about you, my lad, and see whether i cannot in return be of some use to you." newton's history was soon told; and, at the conclusion, he had the satisfaction of finding that he had obtained the very situation which he had been in search of. "i have no second mate on board," observed the captain of the brig; "but i intended to have shipped one to-morrow. i was only divided between which to take of two who have offered themselves, with equally good recommendations. fortunately, i would promise neither; and, as i think your own recommendation stronger than theirs, the berth is at your service. i only wish, for your sake, that it was that of first-mate. i am sure you would prove yourself fit for the situation; and i cannot say that i am very partial to the one that i have at present; but he is a relation of the owner's." the arrangements were soon made. mr berecroft, the master of the vessel, advanced newton a sum to fit himself out, and agreed with the owner at liverpool, that one half of newton's wages should be allotted monthly to his father. the next morning (as the vessel had a pilot on board, and the weather had moderated,) newton took leave of his father, and with a light heart accompanied his new acquaintance on board of the vessel. it was early in the morning when they embarked in a hired boat, the one belonging to the brig still remaining down the river, where they had landed. the first-mate, as it appeared, was in the cabin shaving himself, previous to his going on shore to the owner to report the supposed loss of his superior. the sailors were either busy or down below, so that no notice was taken of the boat coming alongside; and newton, with the master, were both on the deck before the circumstance was known to the first-mate. it so happened, that at the very same moment that they came on board, the first-mate was ascending the companion hatch, to order a boat to be lowered down, and manned. when he perceived mr berecroft, he fell back with astonishment, and turned pale. "i thought you were gone," said he: "why, what could have saved you? did you not drift out to sea?" "it appears, then, mr jackson, that you knew that i was adrift," replied the master seriously, looking him steadfastly in the face. "that is,"--replied the mate, confused--"i thought--of course, seeing the boat was not alongside--that you had drifted away in her; how it happened--of course, i know not." "i should trust, for your conscience sake, mr jackson, that you did not; however, here i am again, as you see, by the blessing of providence, and the exertions of this young man, whom i must introduce to you as our second-mate." jackson cast an angry glance at newton upon the conclusion of this speech. the master had truly observed that it was strange the first-mate did not hear him when he had hailed the brig for assistance. the fact was, that jackson had both heard him and seen him; but he was a wretch devoid of all feeling, who consulted nothing except his own interest. he had made sure that the master would be carried out to sea, there to perish by a most miserable death, and that he would succeed in command of the vessel. he was then going on shore to report the supposed "_falling overboard_" of the master: which as the brig was to sail as the weather moderated, would have secured to him the command, and, at the same time, have put an end to the search which (should he have reported the truth) would immediately have taken place for the boat in which the master had been adrift. foiled in his hopes, by the courage of newton, jackson had already formed towards him a deadly hatred and determination of revenge. that evening the wind abated, and the vessel sailed. the ensuing morning she was clear of the sands, and a pilot vessel off holyhead having received the pilot, she steered down the irish channel to join a convoy for the west indies, collecting at falmouth. mr berecroft, the master of the vessel, who has not hitherto been described, was a spare, light-built person, of about sixty years of age, still active, and a thorough seaman. he had crossed the ocean for forty-five years, and his occasional narratives, as he walked the deck, or sat over his evening glass of grog, proved that his life must have been one of no ordinary variety and interest. he was serious and rationally devout. he checked all swearing from the men under his command, and rebuked it, although he could not prevent it, in the first-mate; who, to annoy him, seldom made his appearance on deck without making use of some execration or another. it was mr berecroft's custom to call down the seamen into his cabin every evening, and read to them a short prayer; and, although this unusual ceremony often caused a leer in some of the newly-entered men, and was not only unattended but ridiculed by jackson, still the whole conduct of berecroft was so completely in unison, that even the most idle and thoughtless acknowledged that he was a good man, and quitted the ship with regret. such was mr berecroft; and we have little further to add, except that he was very superior to the generality of masters of merchant vessels. his family, it was reported, were strict quakers. jackson, the first-mate, was a bull-headed, sandy-haired northumbrian; as we before stated, a relation of the owner's, or he never would have been permitted to remain in the ship. the reader has already had some insight into his diabolical character. it will be sufficient to add, that he was coarse and blustering in his manners; that he never forgot and never forgave an injury; gratitude was not in his composition; and, to gratify his revenge, he would stop at nothing. on the third day, the brig, which was named the eliza and jane, after the two daughters of the owner, arrived at falmouth, where she anchored in the outer roads, in company with thirty or forty more, who had assembled at the appointed rendezvous. on the second day after their arrival, a fifty-gun ship, frigate, and two corvettes, made their appearance off the mouth of the harbour; and after a due proportion of guns, some shotted and some not, the whole convoy were under weigh, and hove-to round their protectors. the first step taken by the latter was to disembarrass their _proteges_ of one-third of their crews, leaving them as defenceless as possible, that they might not confide in their own strength, but put their whole trust in the men-of-war, and keep as close to them as possible. having taken out every unprotected man, they distributed convoy signals in lieu, and half a dozen more guns announced that they were to make sail--an order immediately complied with: the merchant vessels, loaded with canvass below and aloft, while the men-of-war, with their topsails on the caps, sailed round and round them, firing shot at every unfortunate vessel which was not able to sail as well as the rest. the convoy left falmouth, seventy-five in number; but in a few days there were but forty in sight. those who remained behind either made their voyage how they could, or were taken by the enemy's privateers, who followed in the wake of the convoy. some few were carried into the french ports; and the underwriters of the policy eat but little dinner on the day which brought the intelligence of their capture. others were retaken by the english blockading squadrons, who received then one eighth for salvage. at last the men-of-war were fairly running down the traders, with about twenty-five of the best sailors in company; and the commodore deemed it advisable to take particular care of the few which remained, lest he should be "_hauled over the coals_" by the admiralty. nothing worth comment occurred during the remainder of the passage. they all arrived safe at barbadoes, when the commodore brought in his returns to the admiral, and complained bitterly of the obstinacy of the masters of merchant vessels, who would part company with him, in defiance of all his injunctions, and in spite of all the powder which he fired away to enforce his signals. there certainly was a fault somewhere. during the passage, which lasted seven weeks, newton had ample opportunity of ascertaining his situation. the master invariably treated him with kindness and consideration; and before the voyage was completed, he treated him as if he were his own son. jackson lost no opportunity of annoying or insulting him; but the support of his patron indemnified newton for the conduct of the first-mate, and he resolved to take no notice of that which could not well be prevented. on their arrival at barbadoes, mr berecroft went on shore to the house of the consignee; and then it was that the malignity of jackson broke out in all its violence. the brig had discharged her cargo, and was lying in carlisle bay, waiting for the sugars which were to be shipped for liverpool. one morning, when newton, who for some time had submitted to the tyranny of jackson without complaint, was standing at the main hatchway, giving directions to the men below, who were arranging the dunnage at the bottom of the vessel, the first-mate came on deck, and, watching his opportunity, staggered, with a rope in his hand, against newton, as if by accident, so as to throw him over the coombings. newton, who would have immediately fallen to the bottom of the hold upon the ballast, at the risk of his life suddenly seized hold of the first-mate, not in sufficient time to recover his own balance, but so firmly as to drag jackson with him; and down they were both precipitated together. the first-mate, having hold of one of the ropes leading down the main-mast, clung fast to save himself, and in so doing also broke the fall of newton; but the weight of their bodies dragged the rope through jackson's hands, which were lacerated to the bone. neither party were much hurt by the fall; so that the treachery of jackson recoiled upon himself. after this specimen of animosity, which was duly reported to mr berecroft, on his return on board, by the seamen, who detested jackson, and any thing like foul play, his protector determined that newton should no longer be subjected to further violence. at the request of mr berecroft, newton was invited to stay at the house of mr kingston, the gentleman to whom the vessel had been consigned--an offer which was gladly accepted. newton had not been many days on shore, when mr kingston, who had taken a strong interest in him, proposed, in answer to his many questions relative to the slave trade, that they should make a party to visit a plantation, the proprietor of which had been a resident since his youth, and judge for himself as to the truth of the reports so industriously circulated by those who were so inimical to the employment of a slave population. volume one, chapter fourteen. "_aboan_. the innocent. _oronoko_. these men are so, whom you would rise against. if we are slaves, they did not make us slaves, but bought us in the honest way of trade, as we have done before 'em, bought and sold many a wretch, and never thought it wrong. they paid our price for us, and we are now their property, a part of their estate, to manage as they please." at an early hour the party, consisting of mr kingston, the master of the brig, and newton, set off upon mules for the habitation of the planter. the sun had illumined the sky, but had not yet made its appearance, although the golden fringes upon the clouds which floated in broad belts in the horizon, indicated his glorious yet withering approach. the dew moistened each leaf, or hung in glittering pendant drops upon the thorn of the prickly pears which lined the roads. the web of the silver-banded spider was extended between the bushes, and, saturated with moisture, reflected the beams of the rising orb, as the animals danced in the centre, to dazzle their expected prey. the mist still hovered on the valleys, and concealed a part of the landscape from their view; and the occasional sound of the fall of water was mingled with the twittering and chirping of the birds, as they flew from spray to spray. the air was fresh, even to keenness, and any one suddenly wafted to the scene would little have imagined that he was under the torrid zone. "how different this is from the ideas generally formed of the climate in the west indies!" observed newton. "in england, we couple it with insufferable heat and the yellow fever." "your reports are from those who seldom leave the harbours or towns, where such indeed prevail," replied kingston. "there is no island in the caribbean sea where the early riser may not enjoy this delightful bracing atmosphere. at jamaica, in particular, where they collect as much snow as they please in the mountains; yet, at the same time, there is not a more fatal and unhealthy spot than port royal harbour, in the same island." "is the plantation we are going to situated as high above the level of the sea as we are now?" "no; most plantations are in the ravines, between the hills. the sugar-cane requires heat. as soon as we are on the summit of this next hill we shall descend to it." in half an hour they arrived at the end of their journey, when they stopped at an extensive range of low buildings, situated at the head of the valley, which descended to the sea, now for the first time presented to their view since they had quitted bridgetown. the owner of the estate was at the door to receive them. he was a tall, spare man, dressed in nankeen jacket and trousers, with a large-brimmed straw-hat upon his head. "welcome, gentlemen, welcome. kingston, how are you?" said he, as they stopped. "now dismount, gentlemen; the boys will take the mules. boy jack, where are you? where's baby and where's bulky? come here you lazy rascals and take the mules. now then, gentlemen, i'll show you the way. i ordered breakfast on the table, as i saw you coming down the hill." so saying, the old gentleman led the way through a portico. at the sight of strangers the windows underneath were crowded with faces of various degrees of colour--eyes and mouths wide open, the latter displaying rows of teeth so even and so brilliantly white, that they might cause a sensation of envy to many an english belle. the party were ushered into a spacious and cool apartment on the ground-floor, where a table was covered with all the varieties of a tropical breakfast, consisting of fried fish, curries, devilled poultry, salt meats, and every thing which could tend to stimulate an enfeebled appetite. "now, gentlemen, let me recommend you to take a white jacket; you'll be more at your ease, and there is no ceremony here. boy jack, where's the sangoree? this is a fine climate, captain berecroft; all you have to attend to is--to be temperate, and not to check the perspiration." boy jack, who, par parenthese, was a stout, well-looking negro, of about forty years of age, now made his appearance with the sangoree. this was a beverage composed of half a bottle of brandy, and two bottles of madeira, to which were added a proportion of sugar, lime-juice, and nutmeg, with water _ad lib_. it was contained in a glass bowl, capable of holding two gallons, standing upon a single stalk, and bearing the appearance of a brobdignag rummer. boy jack brought it with both hands, and placed it before his master. "now, sir, will you drink?" said the planter, addressing mr berecroft. "thank you," replied mr berecroft, "i never drink so early in the morning." "drink! why this is nothing but _swizzle_. here's your health, sir, i'll show you the way." the large goblet was fixed to his lips for upwards of a minute: at last they unwillingly separated, and the old planter recovered his respiration with a deep sigh. "now then, gentlemen, do you take a little, don't be afraid; there's nothing you mayn't do in this climate, only be temperate and don't check the perspiration." at this moment newton was startled, and looked under the table. "i thought it was a dog, but it's a little black child." "oh! there's one out, is there? why, boy jack, did i not tell you to shut them all in?" "yes, sar, so i did," said the black man, looking under the table. "eh!--it's that damned little nigger--two year old sambo--no possible keep him in, sar.--come out, sambo." the child crawled out to his master, and climbed up by his knee: the old planter patted his woolly head, and gave him a piece of grilled turkey, with which he immediately dived again under the table. "the fact is, captain, they are accustomed to come in at breakfast time; they are only shut out to-day because i have company. that door behind me leads into the nursery yard." "the nursery yard!" "yes, i'll show it you by-and-bye; there's plenty of them there." "oh, pray let us have them in--i wish to see them, and should be sorry to be the cause of their being disappointed." "open the door, boy jack." as soon as it was open, about twenty black children from seven to three years old, most of them naked, with their ivory skins like a polished table, and quite pot-bellied from good living, tumbled into the room, to the great amusement of newton and the party. they were followed by seven or eight more, who were not yet old enough to walk; but they crawled upon all-fours almost as fast as the others, who could walk erect after the image of their maker. the company amused themselves with distributing to the children the contents of the dishes on the table--the elder ones nestling alongside of the planter and his friends with the greatest familiarity, while the youngest sat upright on the floor, laughing as they devoured their respective portions. "of course, these are all slaves?" observed mr berecroft. "yes, bred them all myself," replied the planter "indeed, out of two hundred and fifteen which i have on the estate, i think that there are not more than twelve who were not born on this property, during my father's time or mine. perhaps, as breakfast is over, you will like to inspect my nursery." the planter led the way into the yard from which the children had entered. it was a square, of about two roods of ground, three sides of which were enclosed by rows of small houses, of two rooms each; and most of them were occupied by female slaves, either nursing children at the breast, or expecting very soon to have that duty to perform. they received their master with a smiling face, as he addressed a question to each of them when he entered their abode. "now these are all my _breeding_ women; they do no work, only take care of the children, who remain here until they are eight or nine years old. we have a surgeon on the estate, who attends them as well as the other slaves when they are sick. now, if you feel inclined, we will go round the works." the old planter, in a few minutes' walk, brought them to an extensive row of detached cottages, each centred in a piece of garden-ground, well stocked with yams, sweet potatoes, bananas, and other tropical productions. poultry of all descriptions were scattered in profusion about the place, and pigs appeared to be abundant. "now, captain, these are the cottages of the working slaves. the garden-ground is allowed to them; and whatever they can make by its produce, or by their pigs and their poultry, is all their own." "but how are they subsisted?" "by rations, as regularly served out as yours are on board of your vessel, and they have as much as they can consume." "are they all single men?" "no, mostly married to slave girls on the estate: their wives live with them, unless they breed, and then they are removed up to the nurseries." "and what work do you exact from them?" "eight hours a day--except in cropt-time, and then we are very busy; so that they have plenty of leisure to look after their own interests if they choose." "do they ever lay up much money?" "very often enough to purchase their freedom, if they wished it." "if they wished it!" replied mr berecroft, with surprise. "yes; without explanation, that may appear strange to you, and still more strange, the fact, that freedom offered has often been refused. a man who is a clever workman as a carpenter, or any other trade, will purchase his freedom if he can, because artisans can obtain very high wages here; but a slave who, if i may use the term, is only a common labourer, would hardly support himself, and lay by nothing for his old age. they are aware of it. i have offered emancipation to one or two who have grown old, and they have refused it, and now remain as heirlooms on the estate, provided with every thing, and doing little or no work, if they please. you saw that old man sweeping under the portico? well, he does that every day; and it is all he has done for these five years. now, if you please, we will go through the plantations, and visit the sugar-mills." they passed the slaves, who were at work hoeing between the canes; and certainly, if an estimate of their condition was to be taken by the noise and laughter with which they beguiled their labour, they were far from demanding pity. "but, i must confess, that there is something in that cart-whip which i do not like," observed newton. "i grant it; but custom is not easily broken through; nor do we know any substitute. it is the badge of authority, and the noise of it is requisite to summon them to their labour. with me it is seldom used, for it is not required; and if you were captain of a man-of-war i should answer you as i did captain c---; to wit--i question much whether my noisy whip is half so mischievous as your silent _cat_." the sugar-mills, stables of mules, boilers, coolers, etcetera, were all examined, and the party returned to the plantation house. "well, captain, now you have witnessed what is termed slavery, what is your opinion? are your philanthropists justified in their invectives against us?" "first assure me that all other plantations are as well regulated as your own," replied mr berecroft. "if not, they soon will be: it is the interest of all the planters that they should; and by that, like all the rest of the world, they will be guided." "but still there have been great acts of cruelty committed; quite enough to prepossess us against you as a body." "i grant that such has been the case, and may occasionally be so now; but do not the newspapers of england teem with acts of barbarity? men are the same every where. but, sir, it is the misfortune of this world, that we never know _when to stop_. the abolition of the slave-trade was an act of humanity, worthy of a country acting upon an extended scale like england; but your philanthropists, not content with relieving the blacks, look forward to the extermination of their own countrymen, the whites--who, upon the faith and promise of the nation, were induced to embark their capital in these islands." "doubtless they wish to abolish slavery altogether," replied berecroft. "they must be content with having abolished the horrors of it, sir," continued the planter. "at a time when the mart was open, and you could purchase another slave to replace the one that had died from ill treatment, or disease, the life of a slave was not of such importance to his proprietor as it is now. moreover, the slaves imported were adults who had been once free; and torn as they were from their natural soil and homes, where they slept in idleness throughout the day, they were naturally morose and obstinate, sulky and unwilling to work. this occasioned severe punishment; and the hearts of their masters being indurated by habit, it often led to acts of barbarity. but slavery, since the abolition, has assumed a milder form--it is a species of _bond_ slavery. there are few slaves in existence who have not been born upon the estates, and we consider that they are more lawfully ours." "will you explain what you mean by _more lawfully_?" "i mean captain (for instance), that the father of that boy (pointing to one of the negro lads who waited at breakfast), was my slave; that he worked for me until he was an old man, and then i supported him for many years, until he died. i mean, that i took care of this boy's mother, who, as she bore children, never did any work after her marriage, and has since been only an expense to me, and probably will continue to be so for some years. i mean, that that boy was taken care of, and fed by me until he was ten years old, without my receiving any return for the expense which i incurred; and i therefore consider that he is indebted to me as a bond, slave, and that i am entitled to his services; and he in like manner, when he grows too old to work, will become a pensioner, as his father was before him." "i perceive the drift of your argument; you do not defend slavery generally." "no; i consider a man born free and made a slave, is justified in resorting to any means to deliver himself; but a slave that i have reared is lawfully a slave, and bound to remain so, unless he can repay me the expense i have incurred. but dinner is ready, captain; if you wish to argue the matter further, it must be over a bottle of claret." the dinner was well dressed, and the madeira and claret (the only wines produced), of the best quality. their host did the honours of his table with true west indian hospitality, circulating the bottle after dinner with a rapidity which would soon have produced an effect upon less prudent visitors; and when mr berecroft refused to take any more wine, he ordered the ingredients for arrack punch. "now, mr forster, you must take a tumbler of this, and i think that you'll pronounce it excellent." "indeed--!" replied newton. "nay, i will take no denial; don't be afraid; you may do any thing you please in this climate, only be temperate, and don't check the perspiration." "well, but," observed newton, who placed the tumbler of punch before him, "you promised to renew your argument after dinner; and i should like to hear what you have to urge in defence of a system which i never have heard defended before." "well," replied his host, upon whom the wine and punch had begun to take effect, "just let me fill my tumbler again to keep my lips moist, and then i'll prove to you that slavery has existed from the earliest times, and is not at variance with the religion we profess. that it has existed from the earliest times, you need only refer to the book of genesis; and that it is not at variance with our religion, i must refer to the fourth commandment. how can that part of the commandment be construed, `and the stranger that is within thy gates?' to whom can this possibly apply but to the slave? after directing, that the labour of all the household, `man-servant and maid-servant,' should cease, it then proceeds to the ox and the ass, and the stranger that is within thy gates. now, gentlemen, this cannot be applied to the stranger in the literal sense of the word, the hospitality of the age forbidding that labour should be required of him. at that time slaves were brought from foreign lands, and were a source of traffic, as may be inferred by the readiness with which the ishmaelites purchased joseph of his brethren, and resold him in egypt. "nay, that slavery was permitted by the _almighty_ is fully proved by the state of the jewish nation, until _he_ thought proper to bring them out of the house of bondage. "if then the laws of god provided against the ill treatment of the slave, slavery is virtually acknowledged, as not being contrary to his divine will. we have a further proof, _subsequent to the mission of our saviour_, that the apostles considered slavery as lawful." "i remember it: you refer to paul sending back the runaway slave onesimus. well, i'll admit all this," replied mr berecroft, who had a great dislike to points of scripture being canvassed after dinner; "and i wish to know what inference you would draw from it." "that i was just coming to: i assert that my property in slaves is therefore as legally mine as my property in land or money; and that any attempt to deprive me of either is equally a _robbery_, whether it be made by the nation, or by an individual. but now, sir, allow me to ask you a question; show me where liberty is?--run over all the classes of society, and point out one man who is free." mr berecroft, who perceived the effect of the arrack punch, could not refrain from laughing as he replied, "well, your friend mr kingston, is he not free?" "free! not half so free as that slave boy who stands behind your chair. why, he is a merchant, and whether he lives upon a scale of princely expenditure, whether wholesale or retail, banker or proprietor of a chandler's shop, he is a speculator. anxious days and sleepless nights await upon speculation. a man with his capital embarked, who may be a beggar on the ensuing day, cannot lie down upon roses: he is the _slave_ of mammon. who are greater _slaves_ than sailors? so are soldiers, and all who hold employ under government. so are politicians; they are _slaves_ to their tongues, for opinions once expressed, and parties once joined, at an age when reason is borne down by enthusiasm, and they are fixed for life against their conscience, and are unable to follow its dictates without blasting their characters. courtiers are _slaves_ you must acknowledge." "i beg your pardon," interrupted kingston, "but i perceive that you make no distinction between those enthralled by their own consent, and _against_ it." "it is a distinction without a difference," replied the planter, "even if it were so, which it is not, but in particular cases. the fact is, society enthralls us all. we are forced to obey laws, to regard customs, to follow the fashion of the day, to support the worthless by poor-rates, to pay taxes, and the interest of a debt which others have contracted, or we must go to prison." "and the princes and rulers of the land--do you include them?" inquired newton. "they are the greatest of all; for the meanest peasant has an advantage over the prince in the point on which we most desire to be free--that of the choice in his partner in life. he _has none_, but must submit to the wishes of his people, and trammelled by custom, must take to his bed one whom he cannot take to his heart." "well, by your account there is nobody free, unless it be _liberty_ herself." "why, sir," rejoined the planter, "to prove to you that i was correct when i asserted that there was no such thing in this world as liberty, paradoxical as it may appear, liberty is but liberty when in _bondage_. release her, and she ceases to exist; she has changed her nature and character; for liberty _unrestrained_ becomes _licentiousness_." "well," said mr kingston, laughing with the rest at this curious remark, "as you have now arrived at your climax, with your leave we will go to bed." "have i convinced you?" demanded the planter, taking the tumbler from his lips. "at least you have silenced us. now, if you please, we will put on our coats and retire to our apartments." "yes--do," replied the other, who was not very steady "do--or you may check the perspiration. boy jack, where are the lights? good night, gentlemen." the negro led the way to a large room with two beds in it, for newton and the master of the brig. having first pointed out to them that there was a jug of sangoree, "suppose gentlemen thirsty," he wished them good night, and left the room. "well, newton," said mr berecroft as soon as they were alone, "what do you think of the planter?" "i think that, considering his constant advice to be temperate, he swallowed a very large quantity of arrack punch." "he did indeed; but what think you of his arguments?" "i hardly can say, except that none of them were sufficiently convincing to induce me to be a slave proprietor. we may perhaps, as he asserts, have contented ourselves with the shadow instead of the substance; but even the shadow of liberty is to be venerated by an englishman." "i agree with you, my boy. his discourse did however bring one idea into my head; which is, that there is a remarkable connection between religion and slavery. it was in a state of bondage that the jews were prepared to receive the promised land, and whenever they fell off from the true worship they were punished by captivity. it was through the means of slavery that the light of the true faith was first brought to our island, where it has burnt with a purer flame than elsewhere; for, if you recollect, the beauty of some english children exposed for sale at rome, assisted by a latin pun, caused the introduction of christianity into great britain; and who knows but that this traffic, so offensive to humanity, has been permitted by an all-wise power with the intent that some day it shall be the means of introducing christianity into the vast regions of african idolatry?" "true," observed newton, "and the time may not be far distant." "that it is impossible to calculate upon. _he_ worketh by his own means, which are inscrutable. it was not the cause of virtue, but a desire that vice might be less trammelled, which introduced the reformation in england. the more we attempt to interfere with the arrangements of the almighty, the more we shall make evident our own folly and blindness, and his unsearchable and immutable wisdom,--good night, my boy." newton forster--by captain marryat volume one, chapter fifteen. _lucy_. are all these wretches slaves? _stanley_. all sold, they and their posterity, all slaves. _lucy_. o! miserable fortune! _bland_. most of them know no better, but were born so, and only change their masters. oroonoko. the party were up at an early hour on the ensuing morning, that they might enjoy the delightful freshness of the air, which so soon evaporates before the scorching rays of the tropical sun. they were joined at breakfast by the doctor who attended the estate, and who had called in to announce the birth of a little negro boy in the early part of the night. "who did you say, doctor?" answered the planter, "mattee sally? why, i thought jane ascension was in advance of her." "they were running it _neck and neck_, sir," replied the surgeon. "how is she--quite hearty?" "quite, sir; but very anxious about the child's name, and requests to speak with you as soon as you have breakfasted." "we will go to her. you have no idea," observed the planter to mr berecroft and newton, "what importance these people attach to the naming of their children. nothing but a fine long name will satisfy them. i really believe, that if i refused her, or called the boy tom, she would eat dirt. i believe we have all done; boy jack, bring the sangoree. doctor, i dare say that your clay wants moistening, so take the first pull." this important commencement and finale to the repast having been duly administered, they proceeded to the range of buildings before mentioned, in one of which they found the lady _in the straw_, sitting up, and showing her white teeth at her master's approach, as if nothing very particular had occurred. "well, mattee, how are you?" said the planter. "where's the piccaninny?" "ab um here, sar--keep im warm," replied the woman, pointing to a roll of blanket, in which the little creature was enveloped. "let us see him, mattee." "no, sar, too cold yet--bye bye, massa, see um; make very fine sleep now.--suppose white piccaninny, suppose black piccaninny--all same,-- like plenty sleep. um know very well, hab plenty work to do bye and bye--sleep all dey can, when lilly." "but you'll smother him," observed newton. "smoder him?--what dat--eh?--i know now massa mean, stop um breath.--no: suppose him no smoder before, no smoder now, sar. massa," continued the woman, turning to the planter, "no ab name for piccaninny?" "well, mattee, we must find one; these gentlemen will give him a name. come, captain, what name do you propose?" "suppose we christen him _snub_," replied berecroft, winking at the rest. "snob! what sort a name you call dat, sar?" replied the woman, tossing up her head. "snob! no, sar, you 'front me very much. snob not proper name." "well, then mr forster," said the planter, "try if _you_ can be more fortunate." "what do you think of chrononhotonthologus?" said newton to the woman. "eh! what dat?--say dat again, sar," replied the woman. "chrononhotonthologus." "eh! dat real fine name for piccaninny," cried the woman, with delight in her countenance. "many tanky, sar. chroton-polygarse." "no, no," replied newton, laughing; "chrononho-tonthologus." "es, hab now--hoten-tolyglass." "no, that's only part. chronon-hoton-thologus." "i see--very fine name--proton-choton-polly-glass." "yes, that's nearer to it," replied newton. "well, then, that point's settled," said the planter to the woman. "is it all right, mattee?" "es, massa; many tanks to gentleman--very fine name, do very well, sar." "doctor, put the name down opposite the register of the birth. now, mattee, all's right, good bye," said the planter, leaving the room, and followed by the others. "do you really intend to call the child by that name?" inquired mr berecroft. "why not? it pleases the woman, and is as good as any other; it is of no consequence. they almost all have names, certainly not quite so long as the present; but, as they grow longer, their names grow shorter. this name will first be abbreviated to chrony; if we find that too long, it will be reduced again to crow; which by the bye, is not bad name for a negro," said the planter, laughing at the coincidence. reader, did you ever perchance, when in a farm-yard, observe hen or other domestic fowl, who having pounced upon half a potato, or something of the same description too large to be bolted down at once, tries to escape with her prize, followed by all the rest, until she either drops it or eludes their vigilance? if so, you form some idea of a negro woman, with a hard word in her mouth; which, although she does not know the meaning of, she considers as an equal treasure. newton had turned round to the court-yard, in the centre of which several women were sitting down at various employments; when one who had been busied in some little offices for the woman whom they had just visited, and had in consequence been present at the choice of the name, took her seat with the party in question. to several queries put to her, she replied with extreme hauteur, as if she considered them as impertinent, and frowned upon her companions most majestically. after a short time she rose, and turning round, with the look of an empress, said, "now i shall go look after my hoton-poton-polybass." "eh?" cried one, opening her eyes in wonder. "what dat?" screamed another. "how you call dat long ting?" demanded a third. "eh! you stupid black tings," replied the proud possessor of the new word, with a look of ineffable scorn, "you no know what um call poton-hoton-poll-fuss. me _no tell_ you," continued she, as she walked away, leaving the others almost _white_ with envy and astonishment. shortly after this mr kingston with his party took their leave of the hospitable old planter, and commenced their return to bridgetown. they had not proceeded further than a quarter of a mile when, ascending little hill, newton discovered that a negro was assisting his own ascent by hanging on to the tail of his mule. "how you do this morning, sar!" said the man, grinning, as newton looked round. "i'm very well, sir, i thank you; but i'm afraid i shall not be able to keep up with the rest, if my mule has to pull you up hill, as well as carry me." "es, sar, mule go faster. massa not understand; mule very obstinate, sar. suppose you want go one way, he go anoder--suppose you pull him back by tail, he go on more." "well, if that's the case you may hold on. do you belong to the plantation?" "no, sar, me free man. me work there; carpenter, sar." "a carpenter! how did you learn your trade, and obtain your freedom?" "larn trade board man-of-war, sar--man-of-war make me free." mr berecroft, who had been listening to the colloquy, took up the discourse. "were you born in this country?" "no, sar! me ashantee man." "then how did you come here?" "why, sar, ab very fine battle in ashantee country. take me and send me down to coast; sell me for slave. go on board french schooner--english frigate take schooner, send me to sarra leon." "well, what did you do there?" "bind 'prentice, sar, to massa cawly, for farteen years--all de same as slave; work very hard; yam bad; plenty fever in that country--much better here." "then how did you get away from sierra leon?" "go to sleep one day in de bush--tieves come steal me, take me down to coast, sell me again." "well, where did you go then?" "bard schooner again, sar. another man-of-war take schooner in west indies; send her in prize. keep and some on board becase want hands; keep me, becase speak little english." "how did you like a man-of-war?" inquired newton. "man-of-war very fine place; but all slaves there--captain steal men every ship he come to. but sailor no tink so; ebery night we all sing-- britong nebber, nebber, nebber, will be slave. make me laugh, sar," continued the man, showing his teeth with a broad grin. "what was the frigate's name?" "very fine name, sar, call her daddy wise," [_dedaigneuse_, we suppose.] "how long were you on board of her?" "far year, sar; larn carpenter trade--go to england--pay off--get plenty money--come out here in marchant vessel--england very fine place, too much cold," said the negro, shuddering the bare recollection. "now tell me," said kingston, "of course you recollect being in your own country?--which do you like best--that or this?" "ashantee very good country--barbadoes very good country. ashantee nebber work, hab no money--here plenty work, plenty money." "well, but where would you rather be, here or there?" "don't know, sar. like to find country where no work, plenty money." "not singular in his opinion," observed newton. "men do all work here, sar: women only talk," continued the negro. "my country, men nebber work at all--women do all work, and feed men." "then what does the man do?" inquired berecroft. "man, sar," replied the negro proudly, "man go fight--go kill." "is that all?" "yes, sar, that all." "so, you then mean to say, that if you could go back to ashantee now, you would remain there?" "yes, sar, stay there--do no work--sleep all day--make women feed me." "how inveterate is early habit!" observed mr berecroft. "this man, although free in a civilised country, would return to his idleness and resume his former ignorance." "and so would every slave not born in the country. it requires one or two generations to destroy this savage nature," replied kingston. "i believe idleness, like gout, to be an hereditary disease, either in black or white; i have often observed it in the latter. now, until man labours there is no chance of civilisation; and, improved as the race of africa have been in these islands, i still think that if manumitted, they would all starve. in their own country nature is so bountiful that little or no labour is required for the support of life; but in these islands the soil, although luxuriant, must be nurtured." "you do then look forward to their ultimate freedom?" inquired newton. "most assuredly. already much has been done, and if not persecuted, we should be able and willing to do much more." "the public mind in england is certainly much inflamed against you," said berecroft. "it is; or rather, i should say, the more numerous public composed of those persons unable to think for themselves, and in consequence, led by others, styling themselves philanthropists, but appearing to have very jesuitical ideas with regard to truth. this i have no hesitation in asserting, that if philanthropy had not been found to have been so very profitable, it never would have had so many votaries: true philanthropy, like charity, begins at home. observe how the papers teem with the misery of the lower classes in england, yet this affects not the west india philanthropist. you perceive not their voices raised in behalf of their suffering countrymen. they pass the beggar in the street; they heed not the cry of starvation at home; but every where raise petitions for emancipation; or, in fact, for the destruction of the property of others. that it is an invidious property, i grant, and i wish i could dispose of mine; but that is not so easy. my ancestors embarked their capital in these islands upon the faith and promises of the country, when opinions were very different from what they are now, and i cannot help myself. how the time will come when england will bitterly rue the having listened to the suggestions and outcries of these interested people." "i do not understand you:--how do you mean?" "i said before, that it was on the faith of the country that we embarked our property in these islands. you are not perhaps aware, that when in the reign of queen anne the assiento treaty was made, by which we obtained the privilege of supplying all the islands with slaves, it was considered as one of the most important acquisitions that could be obtained. public opinion has now changed; but if a nation changes her opinion, she must at the same time be just. let the country take our estates and negroes at a fair valuation, and we shall be most happy to surrender them. if she frees the slaves without so doing, she is guilty of robbery and injustice, and infringes on the constitution of the country, which protects all property, and will of course allow us to decide upon our own measures." "may i inquire what those would be?" "throwing off the yoke, declaring ourselves independent, and putting ourselves under the protection of america, who will gladly receive us, aware that we shall be a source not only of wealth but of security." "would america risk a war to obtain these islands?" "she would be foolish not to do so; and england would be more than foolish to engage in one. it is true, that if not immediately supported by america, england might create a scene of confusion and bloodshed in the colonies; but the world has too often had the severe lesson, that colonies once detaching themselves are never to be regained. england would therefore be only entailing an useless expense, however gratifying it might be to her feelings of revenge." "but do you think that this is likely to occur?" "i do, most certainly, if those who govern continue to listen to the insidious advice of the party denominated `saints;' and i afraid that it will not be until these islands are separated from the mother-country, that she will appreciate their value. our resolution once formed, white slaves (for slaves we are) will not flinch; and the islands of the caribbean sea will be enrolled as another star, and add another stripe to the independent flag, which is their natural protector." "i trust that will never come to pass." "and so do i, mr berecroft, for i am an englishman, and love my country, and the loss of these colonies would be blow from which england would never recover." "you forget her extensive colonies in the east." "i do not; but the west indies add to her wealth and her commercial prosperity, to her nursery of seamen and her exhausted revenue. they, on the contrary, add only to her grandeur, for they cost the country three millions a year; and i doubt whether at that expense it is worth while to retain any colony, however vast and extensive it may be. i consider, that if the east india ports were open to all the world, and the territory governed by its former princes, england, with all the competition which would take place, would yet be a gainer; and, on the other hand, i know that by the loss of these islands, she would find a decrease of millions in her revenue." "then the philanthropists must pay the national debt," observed newton, laughing. "they be damned!" replied kingston, who was warm with his argument; "they would not pay a farthing." volume one, chapter sixteen. the sea-breach'd vessel can no longer bear the floods that o'er her burst in dread career. the labouring hull already seems half fill'd with water, through an hundred leaks distill'd: thus drench'd by every wave, her riven deck, stript and defenceless, floats a naked wreck. falconer. newton remained at bridgetown, under the roof of mr kingston, for more than three weeks, by which time the brig was laden, and waiting for convoy to proceed to england. mr berecroft had made every preparation for his voyage, when an unexpected circumstance occurred, which eventually proved the occasion of great hardship and danger to newton. this was, the master of a large ship, belonging to the same owners, and then lying in carlisle bay, to proceed homeward by the same convoy, had so ingratiated himself with a wealthy widow residing upon the island, that rather than he should again trust himself to the fickle element, she had been induced to surrender up to him her plantation, her negroes, and her fair self, all equally bound to honour and obey through their future lives. mr berecroft, in consequence of this resignation of his brother captain, was appointed to the command of the larger vessel; and jackson, the first-mate, ordered to take the command of the eliza and jane. this was a sad blow to newton, and one which he could not avoid, as mr berecroft could not take him in his new ship, all the sub ordinate situations being already filled up. at first, he was inclined to quit the brig; but by the advice of mr berecroft and kingston, he was persuaded to go the passage home, as he was now first-mate of the vessel, and would incur forfeiture of all wages if he broke the articles which he had signed at liverpool. unpleasant as the prospect was, he was further induced by berecroft's assurance, that now jackson was provided for, he would arrange with the owners that newton should be appointed the first-mate of his own ship, as soon as they arrived in england. in a few days the men-of-war made their appearance. newton who had remained on shore until the last moment, shook hands with his friendly patron, and thanking mr kingston for his kindness, went on board of the vessel with a sorrowful and foreboding heart. nor was he at all inclined to cheer up as he stepped on the deck of the brig, and beheld jackson with a handspike, still brandishing over his head, standing across the body of one of the seamen, whom he had just dashed to the deck with the implement in his hand. at the sight of newton, the wrath of the new captain appeared to be increased. he eyed him malevolently, and then observed with a sneer, "that's what all skulkers may expect on board of my vessel." newton made no answer, and jackson went forward, where the remainder of the crew were heaving up the anchor with the windlass. newton walked up to the seaman, who appeared still insensible, and examined him. the iron plate at the end of the handspike had cut deep into the skull, and there was every appearance of a contusion of the brain. calling the boy who attended the cabin, newton, with his assistance, carried the man below and laid him in his berth. he then repaired on deck, and took the helm, the anchor of the brig being a-trip. in a quarter of an hour the sail was on her, and she followed the course steered by the men-of-war, who were about to run through the other islands, and pick up several vessels, who were for their protection. "if you expect an easy berth, as first-mate, you are mistaken, my joker," said jackson to newton, as he steered the vessel; "you've skulked long enough, and shall now work double tides, or take the consequence. if you don't, i'll be damned!" "i shall do my duty, mr jackson," replied newton, "and fear no consequences." "indeed! you saw how i settled a skulk just now;--beware of his fate!" "i neither anticipate it nor fear it, mr jackson. if it comes to hand spikes, two can play at that game. i rather think that before many hours are over you will be sorry for your violence, for i believe that man to be in considerable danger. even now, i should recommend you to demand surgical assistance from the frigate." "demand it, if you dare--i am captain of this ship, sir. the rascal may die and be damned!" to this disgusting speech newton made no reply. he had made up his mind to put up with every thing short of downright aggression, and for three days more, he obeyed all orders, however arbitrary and however annoying. during this period the man who had been injured became gradually worse; his illness increased rapidly, and on the fifth day he became delirious and in a state of high fever, when newton again pointed out the propriety of asking surgical aid from one of the men-of-war. this suggestion was answered by jackson, who was now really alarmed, with a volley of oaths and execrations, ending with a fiat refusal. the crew of the brig murmured, and collected together forward, looking occasionally at the men-of-war as they spoke in whispers to each other; but they were afraid of jackson's violence, and none ventured to speak out. jackson paced the deck in a state of irritation and excitement as he listened to the ravings of his victim, which were loud enough to be heard all over the vessel. as the evening closed, the men, taking the opportunity of jackson's going below, went up to newton, who was walking aft, and stated their determination that the next morning, whether the master consented to it or not, they would hail the frigate, and demand surgical assistance for their shipmate. in the midst of the colloquy jackson, who hearing the noise overhead of the people coming aft, had a suspicion of the cause, and had been listening at the bottom of the ladder to what was said, came up the hatchway, and accusing newton of attempting to raise a mutiny, ordered him immediately to his cabin, stating his intention of sending him on board of the frigate the next morning to be placed in confinement. "i shall obey your order," replied newton, "as you are in command of this vessel. i only hope that you will adhere to your resolution of communicating with the frigate." so saying, he descended the companion hatch. but jackson, who, both from the information of the cabin-boy, and the fact that the incoherent ravings of his victim became hourly more feeble, thought himself in jeopardy, had no such intention. as the night closed in, he remained on deck gradually taking off first one sail and then another, until the brig was left far astern of the rest of the convoy, and the next morning there was no other vessel in sight; then, on pretence of rejoining them, he made all sail, at the same time changing his course, so as to pass between two of the islands. newton was the only one on board who understood navigation besides jackson, and therefore the only one who could prove that he was escaping from the convoy. he was in confinement below; and the men, whatever may have been their suspicions, could not prove that they were not steering as they ought. about twelve o'clock on that day the poor sailor breathed his last. jackson, who was prepared for the event, had already made up his mind how to proceed. the men murmured, and proposed securing jackson as a prisoner, and offering the command to newton. they went below and made the proposal to him; but he refused, observing that until it was proved by the laws of the land that jackson had murdered their shipmate, he was not guilty, and therefore they had no right to dispossess him of his command; and until their evidence could be taken by some of the authorities he must remain; further pointing out to them, that as he could be seized immediately upon his arrival at an english port, or falling in with a man-of-war during their passage, the ends of justice would be equally answered, as if they committed themselves by taking the law into their own hands. the men, although not satisfied, acquiesced, and returned to their duty on deck. jackson's conduct towards them was now quite altered; he not only treated them with lenity, but supplied them with extra liquor and other indulgences, which, as captain, he could command. newton, however, he still detained under an arrest, watching him most carefully each time that he was necessitated to come on deck. the fact was, jackson, aware that his life would be forfeited to the laws of his country, had resolved to wreck the brig, upon one of the reefs to the northward, then take to his boats, and escape to one of the french islands. at this instigation, the body of the man had been thrown overboard by some of the crew, when they were in a state of half intoxication. newton, who had been below four days, had retired as usual to his hammock, when a sudden shock, accompanied by the fall of the masts by the board, woke him from a sound sleep to all the horrors of shipwreck. the water pouring rapidly through the sides of the vessel, proved to him that there was no chance of escape except by the boats. the shriek, so awful when raised in the gloom of night by seamen anticipating immediate death, the hurried footsteps above him, the confusion of many voices, with the heavy blows from the waves against the side of the vessel, told him that danger was imminent, even if escape were possible. he drew on his trousers, and rushed to the door of his cabin. merciful heaven! what was his surprise, his horror, to find that it was fastened outside. a moment's thought at the malignity of the wretch (for it was indeed jackson, who, during the night, had taken such steps for his destruction) was followed by exertions to escape. placing his shoulders against his sea-chest, and his feet against the door, his body in nearly a horizontal position, he made a violent effort to break open the door. the lock gave way, but the door did not open more than one or two inches, for jackson to make sure had coiled down against it a hawser which lay a few yards further forward in the steerage, the weight of which the strength of no five men could remove. maddened with the idea of perishing by such treachery, newton again exerted his frantic efforts again and again without success. between each pause, the voices of the seamen asking for the oars and other articles belonging to the long boat, proved to him that every moment of delay was a _nail_ in his coffin. again and again were his efforts repeated with almost superhuman strength; but the door remained fixed as ever. at last, it occurred to him that the hawser, which he had previously ascertained by passing his hand through the small aperture which he had made, might only lay against the lower part of the door, and that the upper part might be _free_. he applied his strength above, and found the door to yield: by repeated attempts he at last succeeded in kicking the upper panels to pieces, and having forced his body through the aperture, newton rushed on deck with the little strength he had remaining. the men--the boat--were not there: he hailed, but they heard him not; he strained his eyes--but they had disappeared in the gloom of the night; and newton, overcome with exhaustion and disappointment, fell down senseless on the deck. volume one, chapter seventeen. _paladore_. i have heard, have read bold fables of enormity, devised to make men wonder, and confirm the abhorrence of our nature; but this hardness transcends all fiction. law of lombardy. we must now relate what had occurred on deck during the struggle of newton to escape from his prison. at one o'clock, jackson had calculated that in an hour, or less, the brig would strike on the reef. he took the helm from the man who was steering, and told him that he might go below. previous to this, he had been silently occupied in coiling the hawser before the door of newton's cabin, it being his intention to desert the brig, with the seamen, in the long boat, and leave newton to perish. when the brig dashed upon the reef, which she did with great violence, and the crew hurried upon deck, jackson, who was calm, immediately proceeded to give the orders which he had already arranged in his mind; and the coolness with which they were given quieted the alarm of the seamen, and allowed them time to recall their scattered senses. this, however, proved unfortunate to jackson. had they all hurried in the boat at once, and shoved off; he would in all probability have been permitted to go with them, and newton in the hurry of their self-preservation, would have been forgotten; but his cool behaviour restored their confidence, and, unhappily for him, gave the seamen time to reflect. every one was in the boat; for jackson had quietly prepared and put into her what he considered requisite, when one of the men called out for newton. "damn newton now!--save your own lives, my lads. quick in the boat, all of you." "not without mr newton!" cried the men, unanimously. "jump down, tom williams, and see where he is; he must sleep devilish sound." the sailor sprung down the companion hatch, where he found the hawser coiled against the door, and heard newton struggling inside. it was enough. he hastened on deck, and told his companions; adding, that "it would take half an hour to get the poor fellow out, and that's longer than we dare stay, for in ten minutes the brig will be to pieces." "it is you, you murdering rascal, who did it!" cried the man to jackson. "i tell you what, my lads, if poor mr newton is to die, let this scoundrel keep him company." a general shout proclaimed the acquiescence of the other seamen in this act of retributive justice. jackson, with a loud oath, attempted to spring into the boat, but was repelled by the seamen; again he made the attempt, with dreadful imprecations. he was on the plane-sheer of the brig, and about to make a spring, when a blow from a handspike (the same handspike with which he had murdered the unfortunate seaman) struck him senseless, and he fell back into the lee-scuppers. the boat then shoved off, and had not gained more than two cables' lengths from the vessel, when newton effected his escape and ran on deck, as narrated in our last chapter. the brig had now beat up so high on the reef, that she remained firmly fixed upon it; and the tide having ebbed considerably, she was less exposed to the beating of the waves. the sun was also about to make his appearance, and it was broad daylight when jackson first came to his recollection. his brain whirled, his ideas were confused, and he had but a faint reminiscence of what had occurred. he felt that the water washed his feet, and with a sort of instinct he rose, and staggered up to windward. in so doing, without perceiving him, he stumbled over the body of newton, who also was roused up by the shock. a few moments passed before either could regain his scattered senses; and, at the same time, both sitting up on the deck, at about a yard distant, they discovered and recognised each other. newton was the more collected of the two, for jackson's insensibility had been occasioned by bodily--his, by mental concussion. the effect of the blow was still felt by jackson; and although recovered from the stupor, a dull, heavy sensation affected his eyesight and confused his ideas. the sight of newton went far to recover jackson, who started up as if to grapple with the object of his hatred. newton was on his legs at the same moment, and retreating, seized upon the handspike which lay on the deck, close to where jackson had been struck down, and placed himself in an attitude of defence. not a word was exchanged between them. they remained a few minutes in this position, when jackson, whose brain was affected by the violence of his feelings, dropped down upon the deck in a renewed state of insensibility. newton had now time to look about him, and the prospect was any thing but cheering. it was almost low water, and in every direction he perceived reefs of coral rock, and large banks of sand, with deep channels between them, through which the tide flowed rapidly. the reef upon which the brig had been grounded was of sharp coral; and, in the deeper parts, the trees could be discerned, extending a submarine forest of boughs; but it was evident that the reef upon which the vessel lay was, as well as most of the others, covered at high water. as a means of escape, a small boat was still hanging over the stern, which newton was able to manage either with her sails or her oars, as might be required. as there was no time to be lost, and the only chance of escape remained with the boat, newton commenced his arrangements. the mast and sails were found, and the latter bent;--a keg was filled with water,--a compass taken out of the binnacle,--a few pieces of beef, and some bread collected in a bag, and thrown in. he also procured some bottles of wine and cider from the cabin: these he stowed away carefully in the little locker, which was fitted under the stern-sheets of the boat. in an hour every thing was ready; and throwing into her some pieces of spare rope, and a small grapnel to anchor with, there being still sufficient water alongside to float her, newton gradually lowered one tackle and then another, until the boat was safe in the water. he then hauled her up alongside, made her fast by the painter, and stepped her mast. all was now ready--but to leave jackson to be washed away by the returning tide, when the brig would unquestionably go to pieces?--newton could not do it. true, he had sought his life, and still displayed the most inveterate rancour towards him; and newton felt convinced that no future opportunity would occur, that his enemy would not profit by, to insure his destruction. yet to leave him--a murderer!--with all his sins upon his soul, to be launched so unprepared into the presence of an offended creator!--it was impossible--it was contrary to his nature, and to the religion which he professed. how could he hope for the divine assistance in his perilous undertaking, when he embarked on it, regardless of the precept to forgive his enemy? newton ascended to that part of the deck where jackson laid, and roused him. jackson awoke, as from a deep sleep, and then stared at newton, who, as a precaution held the handspike in his hand. "mr jackson," said newton, "i have roused you to let you know that the boat is now ready, and that i am going to shove off." jackson, who recollected the scene of the previous night, and perceived newton standing over him with the handspike, appeared wholly unnerved. in point of muscular power, newton was his superior, independent of the weapon in his possession. "not without me!--not without me!" cried jackson, raising himself upon his knees. "for mercy's sake, mr newton, do not leave me to this horrid death!" "you would have left me to one even more dreadful," replied newton. "i beg your pardon!--pardon me, mr newton, i was drunk at the time-- indeed i was. i don't know what i do when i'm in liquor.--don't leave me!--i'll obey your orders, and do any thing you wish!--i'll wait upon you as your servant!--i will indeed, mr newton!" "i neither ask that you will obey my orders, nor wait upon me," replied newton. "all i request is, that you will lay aside your wanton animosity, and exert yourself to save your life. for what you have already attempted against me, may god forgive you, as i do! for what you may hereafter attempt, you will find me prepared. now follow into the boat." without further exchange of words newton, followed by jackson, went into the boat, and shoved off. the weather was moderate and the wind light. there were two islets which newton had marked, which apparently were not covered at high water, one about ten miles distant in the supposed direction of the land, for newton had shrewdly guessed the locality of the reef; and the other about two miles from the first, further out, with trees growing to the water's edge. to this latter, newton proposed pulling, and waiting there until the next morning. when they were both in the boat, newton finding that the wind was contrary, unshipped the mast, and taking the foremost oar, that jackson might not sit behind him, desired him to take the other. the tide, which was now flood, and swept out to the southward, obliged them to pull at an angle to reach their intended destination. it was not until sunset that, with great exertion, they fetched the island nearest to the land, not the one that was covered with trees, as they had its tended. as soon as the boat was secured, exhausted with fatigue, they both threw themselves down on the sand, where they remained for some time. having recovered a little, newton procured from the boat some of the supplies which they required, and after satisfying their hunger in silence, they both lay down to repose. newton, who was still afraid of jackson's diabolical enmity, which his silence implied to be again at work, closed his eyes, and pretended for some time to be asleep. as soon as it was dark, he rose, and first listening to the breathing of his comrade, who appeared to be in a sound slumber, he walked away from him about one hundred yards, so that it would be difficult to find him; he placed the handspike under his head for a pillow, and worn out with; mental and bodily fatigue, was soon in a state of oblivion. his sleep, although profound for three or four hours was subsequently restless. the mind, when agitated, watches for the body, and wakes it at the time when it should be on the alert. newton woke up: it was not yet daylight, and all was hushed. he turned round, intending to get up immediately; yet, yielding to the impulse of wearied nature, he again slumbered. once he thought that he heard a footstep, roused himself, and listened; but all was quiet and still, except the light wave rippling on the sand. again he was roused by a sort of grating noise; he listened, and all was quiet. a third time he was roused by a sound like the flapping of a sail: he listened--he was sure of it, and he sprung upon his feet. it was dawn of day, and as he turned his eyes towards the beach, he perceived to his horror that the boat was indeed under sail, jackson, who was in it, then just hauling aft the mainsheet, and steering away from the island. newton ran to the beach, plunged into the sea, and attempted to regain the boat; but he was soon out of his depth, and the boat running away fast through the water. he shouted to jackson, as a last attempt. the scoundrel waved his hand in ironical adieu, and continued his course. "treacherous villain!" mentally exclaimed newton, as his eyes followed the boat. "was it for this that i preserved your life in return for your attempts on mine? here then must i die of starvation!--god's will be done!" exclaimed he aloud, as he sat down on the beach, and covered his face with his hands. volume one, chapter eighteen. for now i stand as one upon a rock, environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him. shakespeare. the tide was on the ebb when newton was left in this desolate situation. after some minutes passed in bitterness of spirit, his natural courage returned; and although the chance of preservation was next to hopeless, newton rose up, resolved that he would use his best efforts, and trust to providence for their success. his first idea was to examine the beach, and see if jackson had left him any portion of the provisions which he had put into the boat; but there was nothing. he then walked along the beach, following the receding tide, with the hope of collecting any shell-fish which might be left upon the sands; but here again he was disappointed. it was evident, therefore, that to stay on this islet was to starve; his only chance appeared to remain in his capability of reaching the islet next to it, which, as we have before mentioned, was covered with trees. there, at least, he might find some means of sustenance, and be able with the wood to make a raft, if nothing better should turn up in his favour. the tide swept down towards the islet, but it ran so strong that there was no chance of his being carried past it; he therefore determined to wait for an hour or two, until the strength of the current was diminished, and then make the attempt. this interval was passed in strengthening his mind against the horror of the almost positive death which stared him in the face. it was about an hour before low water that newton walked into the sea, and commending himself to providence, struck out for the islet, keeping his course well to windward, to allow for the tide sweeping him down. to use a nautical phrase, he "held his own" extremely well, until he reached the centre of the channel, where the water ran with great velocity, and bore him down rapidly with the stream. newton struggled hard; for he was aware that the strength of the current once passed, his labour would be comparatively easy; and so it proved: as he neared the shore of the islet, he made good way; but he had been carried down so far when in the centre of the stream, that it became a nice point, even to the calculation of hope, whether he would fetch the extreme point of the islet. newton redoubled his exertions, when, within thirty yards of the shore an eddy assisted him, and he made sure of success; but when within ten yards, a counter current again caught him, and swept him down. he was now abreast of the very extreme point of the islet; a bush that hung over the water was his only hope; with three or four desperate strokes he exhausted his remaining strength, at the same time that he seized hold of a small bough, it was decayed--snapped asunder, and newton was whirled away by the current into the broad ocean. how constantly do we find people running into real danger to avoid imaginary evil! a mother will not permit her child to go to sea, lest it should be drowned, and a few days afterwards it is kicked to death by a horse. had the child been permitted to go afloat, he might have lived and run through the usual term of existence. wherever we are, or wherever we may go, there is death awaiting us in some shape or another, sooner or later; and there is as much danger in walking through the streets of london as in ploughing the foaming ocean. every tile over our heads contains a death within it, as certain if it were to fall upon us, as that occasioned by the angry surge, which swallows us up in its wrath. i believe, after all, that as many sailors in proportion, run out their allotted span as the rest of the world that are engaged in other apparently less dangerous professions; although it must be acknowledged that occasionally we do become food for fishes. "there is a tide in the affairs of men," says shakespeare; but certainly, of all the tides that ever interfered in a man's prospects, that which swept away newton forster appeared to be the least likely to "lead to fortune." such however was the case. had newton gained the islet which he coveted, he would have perished miserably; whereas it will soon appear, that although his sufferings are not yet ended, his being carried away was the most fortunate circumstance which could have occurred, and proved the means of his ultimate preservation. newton had resigned himself to his fate. he ceased from further exertion, except such as was necessary to keep him above water a little longer. throwing himself on his back, he appealed to heaven for pardon, as he floated away with the stream. that newton had as few errors and follies to answer for as most people, is most certain; yet even the most perfect soon run up a long account. during our lives our sins are forgotten, as is the time at which they were committed; but when death is certain, or appears to be so, it is then that the memory becomes most horribly perfect, and each item of our monstrous bill requires but a few seconds to be read, and to be acknowledged as too correct. this is the horror of death; this it is which makes the body struggle to retain the soul, already pluming herself and rustling her wings, impatient for her flight. this it is which constitutes the pang of separation, as the enfeebled body gradually relaxes its hold, and--all is over, at least on this side of the grave. newton's strength was exhausted; his eyes were fixed on the clear blue sky, as if to bid it farewell; and, resigned to his fate, he was about to give over the last few painful efforts, which he was aware could only prolong, not save his life, when he received a blow on his shoulder under the water. imagining that it proceeded from the tail of a shark, or of some other of the ravenous monsters of the deep, which abound among these islands, and that the next moment his body would be severed in half, he uttered a faint cry at the accumulated horror of his death; but the next moment his legs were swung round by the current, and he perceived, to his astonishment, that he was aground upon one of the sand-banks which abounded on the reef, and over which the tide was running with the velocity of a sluice. he floundered, then rose, and found himself in about one foot of water. the ebb-tide was nearly finished, and this was one of the banks which never showed itself above water, except during the full and change of the moon. it was now about nine o'clock in the morning, and the sun shone with great power. newton, faint from want of sustenance, hardly knew whether to consider this temporary respite as an advantage. he knew that the tide would soon flow again, and felt that his strength was too much spent to enable him to swim back to the islet which he had missed when he had attempted to reach it, and which was more than two miles from the bank upon which he then stood. what chance had he then but to be swept away by the return of the tide? he almost regretted that it had not been a shark instead of the sand-bank which had struck him; he would then have been spared a few hours of protracted misery. as newton had foreseen, the ebb-tide was soon over; a short pause of "slack water" ensued, and there was an evident and rapid increase of the water around him; the wind too freshened, and the surface of the ocean was in strong ripples. as the water deepened, so did the waves increase in size: every moment added to his despair. he had now remained about four hours on the bank! the water had risen to underneath his arms, the waves nearly lifted him off his feet, and it was with difficulty that he could retain his position. hope deserted him, and his senses became confused. he thought that he saw green fields, and cities, and inhabitants. his reason was departing: he saw his father coming down to him with the tide, and called to him for help, when the actual sight of something recalled him from his temporary aberration. there was a dark object upon the water, evidently approaching. his respiration was almost suspended as he watched its coming. at last he distinguished that it must either be a whale asleep, or a boat bottom up. fortunately for newton, it proved to be the latter. at last it was brought down by the tide to within a few yards of him, and appeared to be checked. newton dashed out towards the boat, and in a minute was safely astride upon it. as soon as he had recovered a little from his agitation, he perceived that it was the very boat belonging to the brig, in which jackson had so treacherously deserted and left him on the island! at three o'clock it was high water, and at five the water had again retreated, so that newton could quit his station on the bottom of the boat, and walk round her. he then righted, and discovered that the mast had been carried away close to the step, but, with the sail, still remained fast to the boat by the main sheet, which had jammed on the belaying pin, so that it still was serviceable. every thing else had been lost out of the boat, except the grapnel, which had been bent, and which hanging down in the water, from the boat being capsized, had brought it up when it was floated on the sand-bank. newton, who had neither eaten nor drank since the night before, was again in despair, tormented as he was by insufferable thirst, when he observed that the locker under the stern-sheets was closed. he hastened to pull it open, and found that the bottles of wine and cider, which he had deposited there, were remaining. a bottle of the latter was soon poured down his throat, and newton felt as if restored to his former vigour. at seven o'clock in the evening the boat was nearly high and dry. newton baled her out, and fixing the grapnel firmly in the sand, lay down to sleep in the stern-sheets, covered over with the sail. his sleep was so sound, that he did not wake until six o'clock the next morning, when the boat was again aground. he refreshed himself with some wine, and meditated upon his prospect. thanking heaven for a renewed chance of escape, and lamenting over the fate of the unprepared jackson, who had evidently been upset, from the main-sheet having been jammed, newton resolved to make for one of the english isles, which he knew to be about two hundred miles distant. the oars had been lost, but the rudder of the boat was fortunately made fast by a pennant. in the afternoon he drew up his grapnel, and made sail in the direction, as well as he could judge from the position of the sun, to the english isles. as the night closed in, he watched the stars, and steered his course by them. the next day came, and, although the boat sailed well, and went fast before a free wind, no land was in sight. newton had again recourse to the cider and the wine. the second night he could hardly keep his eyes open; yet, wearied as he was, he still continued his course, and never quitted his helm. the day again dawned, and newton's strength was gone, from constant watching; still he bore up against it, until the sun had set. no land was yet to be seen, and sleep overpowered him. he took a hitch of the main-sheet round his finger, that, should the breeze freshen he might be roused, in case he should go to sleep; and having taken this precaution, in a few minutes the boat _was steering herself_! end of the first volume. volume two, chapter one. but man, proud man, dress'd in a little brief authority, most ignorant of what he's most assured, his glassy essence, like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven. shakespeare. the reef upon which the brig had been wrecked was one of those extending along the southward of the virgin isles. newton had intended to steer well to the eastward, with the view of reaching one of the northernmost english colonies; but not having a compass, he naturally was not very equal in his course. the fact was, that he steered well to the southward of it, and after he fell asleep, the boat ran away still farther off her course, for she was on the larboard tack, and having no weight in her except newton, who was aft in the stern-sheets, she did not feel inclined to keep her wind. newton's sleep was so profound, that neither the pulling of the main-sheet, which he held with a round turn round his hand, nor the dancing of the boat, which during the night had run fast before an increasing breeze, roused him from his lethargy. on sailed the boat, left to the steerage of providence; on slept newton, as if putting firm reliance on the same. it was not until the break of day that his repose was very abruptly broken by a shock, which threw him from the stern-sheets of the boat, right over the aftermost thwart. newton recovered his legs and his senses, and found himself alongside of a vessel. he had run stem on to a small schooner, which was lying at anchor. as the boat was drifting fast by, newton made a spring, and gained the deck of the vessel. "ah! mon dieu!--les anglois--les anglois nous sommes prisonniers!" cried out the only man on deck, jumping on his feet, and making a precipitate dive below. the vessel, of which newton had thus taken possession, was one employed in carrying the sugars from the plantations round to basseterre, the port of guadaloupe, there to be shipped for europe (newton's boat having run away so far to the southward, as to make this island.) she was lying at anchor off the mouth of a small river, waiting for a cargo. it happened that the crew of the schooner, who were all slaves, were exactly in the same situation as newton, when their vessels came in contact; viz, fast asleep. the shock had wakened them; but they were all below, except the one who had kept such a remarkably good watch. exhausted as newton was, he could not but smile at his uninterrupted possession of the vessel's decks. anxious to have communication with the people on board, he sat down, awaiting their coming up from below. in a minute or two, a black head was seen to rise slowly and fearfully out of the fore-scuttle, then it disappeared. another rose up, and went down again as before; and thus it went on until newton reckoned ten different faces. having individually ascertained that there was but one man, and that one not provided with any weapons, the negroes assumed a degree of courage. the first head that had made its appearance, the woolly hair of which was of a grizzly grey from age, was again popped up the fore-scuttle, with an interrogatory to newton in french, who he was, and what he wanted? newton, who did not understand a word of the language, shook his head, and opening his hands and extending his arms, to show that he had no means of defence, he beckoned to them to come up. the man's head had again disappeared, and, after a little demur, nine or ten negroes crawled up out of the fore-scuttle, one after another, each with some weapon or another by way of security. they remained on the forecastle of the vessel until the last was up, and then at a nod given by their grizzle-headed leader, they advanced aft, in a body, towards newton. newton rose and pointed to the boat, which had now drifted about a quarter of a mile astern. he then made signs, to give them to understand that he had been wrecked. "apparemment c'est un pauvre miserable, qui a fait naufrage," observed the old negro, who appeared to have the charge of the vessel; "gustave adolphe, tu parles bien l'anglois; demandez-lui les nouvelles," continued the old man, folding his arms across, and looking very _big_ indeed, as he reclined against the mainmast of the vessel. gustave adolphe stood forward from the rest of the negroes. he was a short, fat, shiny-faced fellow, with his hair platted into about fifty little tails. he first bowed to his old commander, then placing his arms akimbo, walked up to newton, and looking him full in the face, commenced his duty of interpreter; as follows:-- "i say--god dam--" newton smiled. "oui, monsieur, c'est un anglois." "continuez, gustave adolphe," replied the old negro, with a majestic air. gustave adolphe, with another bow, resumed: "i say--where com?" "barbadoes," replied newton. "monsieur, il vient de barbadoes." "continuez, gustave adolphe," replied his superior, with a wave of his hand. "i say--where go?" "where go?" replied newton, "go to the bottom." "monsieur--il alloit au port de bo---tom." "bo---tom," repeated the old negro. "ou diable est ca?" here a general consultation was held, by which it appeared that such a port had never been heard of in the west indies. "gustave adolphe, demandez-lui si c'est un port anglois." "i say--bo---tom--english port?" "no," replied newton, amused with the mistake; "i should rather call it _neutral_." "c'est un port neutral, monsieur." "gustave adolphe, demandez-lui de quelle ile." "i say, what isle--bo---tom?" newton, who was faint with hunger and thirst, was not inclined at the moment to continue the conversation, which otherwise would have been a source of amusement. he replied by making signs that he wished to eat and drink. "monsieur," said gustave adolphe to the old negro, "le prisonnier refuse de faire reponse, et demande a manger et a boire." "va l'en chercher, gustave adolphe," replied the old man. "allons, messieurs," continued he, addressing the other negroes. "il faut lever l'ancre de suite, et amener notre prisonnier aux autorites; charles philippe, va chercher mon porte-voix." the negro captain walked up and down the deck of the schooner, a vessel about thirty feet long, until charles philippe made his appearance with the speaking-trumpet. he then proceeded to get the vessel under weigh, with more noise and fuss than is to be heard when the proudest three-decker in the english navy expands her lofty canvass to the gale. gustave adolphe, in obedience to the commands he had received, brought up to newton a bunch of bananas, a large piece of salt fish, and a calabash of water. the latter was immediately applied to his lips, and never removed while a drop remained, much to the astonishment of the negro, who again sported his english. "i say--very good--ab more?" "if you please," replied newton. "monsieur," said gustave adolphe to his commander, "le prisonnier a soif, et demande encore de l'eau." "va l'en chercher donc," replied the old negro, with a wave of his speaking-trumpet. "charles philippe, attention a la barre, [mind your weather-helm] sans venir au vent, s'il vous plait. matelots du gaillard d'avant," [forecastle-men, haul aft the jib-sheet] continued he, roaring through his speaking-trumpet; "bordez le grand foc." in the space of two hours, the schooner was brought to an anchor, with as much noise and importance as she had been got under weigh. a boat, capable of holding three people, one rower and two sitters, was shoved off the vessel's deck, and the negro captain, having first descended to his cabin for a few minutes, returned on deck dressed in the extremity of _their_ fashion, and ordered the boat to be manned. gustave adolphe accordingly manned the boat with his own person, and the negro captain politely waved his hand for newton to enter, and then, following himself, gustave adolphe rowed to a landing-place, about twenty yards from the schooner. "gustave adolphe, suivez en arriere, et gardez bien que le prisonnier n'echappe pas;" so saying, monsieur le capitaine led the way to a large white house and buildings, about two hundred yards from the river's banks. on their arrival, newton was surrounded by twenty or thirty slaves of both sexes, who chattered and jabbered a thousand questions concerning him to the negro captain and gustave adolphe, neither of whom condescended to reply. "monsieur de fontanges--ou est-il?" inquired the old negro. "monsieur dort," replied a little female voice. the captain was taken aback at this unfortunate circumstance; for no one dared to wake their master. "et madame?" inquired he. "madame est dans sa chambre." there again he was floored--he could not venture there; so he conducted newton, who was not very sorry to escape from the burning rays of the sun, to his own habitation, where an old negress, his wife, soon obtained from the negro that information relative to the capture of newton, which the bevy of slaves in the yard had attempted in vain: but wives have winning ways with them! volume two, chapter two. what elegance and grandeur wide expand, the pride of turkey and of persia land! soft quilts on quilts, on carpets carpets spread, and couches stretch'd around in seemly band, and endless pillows rise to prop the head. ... here languid beauty kept her pale-faced court. thomson. the female slaves, who could not obtain the history of newton, immediately repaired to the chamber of their mistress, knowing that if they could succeed in raising her curiosity, they would at the same time gratify their own. madame de fontanges was, as they asserted, in her chamber, or, what may now be more correctly styled, her boudoir. it was a room about fourteen feet square, the sides of which were covered with a beautiful paper, representing portions of the history of paul and virginia; the floor was covered with fine matting, with here and there a small persian carpet above it. small marble tables were decorated with a variety of ornaments and french perfumes, or vases filled with the splendid flowers of a tropical clime. there was a large window at each end of the room, cut down to the ground, in the french fashion, and outside of both was a little balcony, the trellice-work covered with passion-flower and clematis. the doors and other compartments of the room were not papered, but had french mirrors let into the panelling. on a low ottoman, of elegant workmanship, covered with a damask french silk, reposed madame de fontanges, attended by three or four young female slaves, of different complexions, but none of pure african blood. others were seated upon the different persian carpets about the room, in listless idleness or strewing the petals of the orange-flower, to perfume the apartment with its odour. the only negro was a little boy, about six years of age, dressed in a fantastic costume, who sat in a corner, apparently in a very sulky humour. madame de fontanges was a creole, that is, born in the west indies, of french parents. she had been sent home to france for her education, and had returned at the age of fourteen to guadaloupe, where she soon after married monsieur de fontanges, an officer of rank, and brother to the governor of the island. her form was diminutive, but most perfect; her hand and arm models for the statuary; while her feet were so small as almost to excite risibility when you observed them. her features were regular, and when raised from their usual listlessness, full of expression. large hazel eyes, beautifully pencilled eyebrows, with long fringed eyelashes, dark and luxuriant hair, grecian nose, small mouth, with thin coral lips, were set off by a complexion which even the climate could not destroy, although it softened it into extreme delicacy. such was the person of madame de fontanges, now about eighteen years old, and one of the most beautiful specimens of the french creoles which could be imagined. her perfect little figure needed no support; she was simply attired in a muslin _robe de chambre_, as she reposed upon the ottoman, waiting with all the impatience of her caste, for the setting in of the sea-breeze, which would give some relief from the oppressive heat of the climate. "eventez! nina, eventez!" cried she to one of her attendants, who was standing at the head of the sofa, with a large feather fan. "oui, madame," replied the girl, stirring up the dormant atmosphere. "eventez! caroline, eventez mes mains, vite." "oui, madame," replied the second, working away with another fan. "eventez! eventez mes pieds, mimi." "oui, madame," replied the third, fanning in the direction pointed out. "louise," said madame de fontanges, languidly, after a short pause, "apporte-moi de l'eau sucree." "oui, madame," replied another, rising, in obedience to the order. "non, non! je n'en veux pas--mais j'ai soif horrible. manchette, va chercher de l'eau cerise." "oui, madame," replied manchette, rising from her seat. but she had not quitted the room before madame de fontanges had changed her mind. "attendez, manchette. ce n'est pas ca. je voudrois de limonade. charlotte, va l'en chercher." "oui, madame," said charlotte, leaving the room to execute the order. "ah! mon dieu! qu'il fait une chaleur epouvantable." "mimi, que tu es paresseuse? eventez! vite, vite." "ou est monsieur?" "monsieur dort." "ah! qu'il est heureux. et cupidon--ou est-il?" "il est ici au coin, madame. il boude." "qu'est-ce qu'il a fait donc?" "ah, madame! il a vole le dindon roti, et l'a tout mange." "ah, le petit polisson! venez ici, cupidon." cupidon, the little negro-boy, we have before mentioned, as sitting in the corner of the room, walked up with a very deliberate pace to the side of the ottoman, his two thick lips sticking out about six inches in advance of the remainder of his person. "cupidon," said the lady, turning a little on one side to speak to him, "tu as mange le dindon entier. tu as mal fait, mon ami. tu seras malade. comprends-tu, cupidon, c'est une sottise que tu as fait?" cupidon made no reply; his head was hung down a little lower, and his lips extended a little farther out. "sache que tu es un petit voleur!" continued his mistress. cupidon did not condescend to answer. "allez, monsieur; ne m'approchez pas." cupidon turned short round without reply, and walked back to his corner with the same deliberate pace as before, when he came out of it. charlotte now returned with the lemonade for which she had been despatched, and informed her mistress as she presented it, that nicholas, who had charge of the schooner, had returned with an european prisoner; but that neither he nor gustave would give her any further information, although she had requested it in the name of her mistress. this was quite an event, and gave a fillip to the inertness of madame de fontanges, whose curiosity was excited. "a-t'-il bonne mine, charlotte?" "oui, madame, c'est un bel homme." "et ou est-il?" "avec nicholas." "et monsieur?" "monsieur dort." "il faut l'eveiller. faites bien mes compliments au monsieur de fontanges, et dites-lui que je me trouve fort malade, et que je voudrois lui parler. entends-tu, celeste; je parle a toi." "oui, madame," replied the girl, throwing some orange flowers off her lap, and rising to deliver her message. monsieur de fontanges, who, like most of the europeans, slept through the hottest portion of the day, rose in compliance with his wife's message, and made his appearance in the boudoir, dressed in a white cotton jacket and trousers. a few polite inquiries after the health of madame de fontanges, which, as he had conjectured from similar previous occurrences, was not worse than usual, were followed by his receiving from her the information of newton's arrival, coupled with an observation, that it would amuse her if the prisoner were interrogated in her presence. newton was summoned to the boudoir, where monsieur de fontanges, who spoke very good english, received from him the history of his disasters, and translated them into french, to gratify the curiosity of his wife. "c'est un beau garcon," observed monsieur de fontanges. "mais quoi faire? il est prisonnier. il faut l'envoyer a mon frere, le gouverneur." "il est joli garcon," replied madame de fontanges. "donnez-lui des habits, fontanges; et ne l'envoyez pas encore." "et pourquoi, mon amie?" "je voudrois lui apprendre le francais." "cela ne se peut pas, ma chere; il est prisonnier." "cela se peut, monsieur de fontanges," replied the lady. "je n'ose pas," continued the husband. "moi j'ose," replied the lady, decidedly. "je ne voudrois pas," said the gentleman. "moi, je veux," interrupted the lady. "mais il faut etre raisonnable, madame." "il faut m'obeir, monsieur." "mais--" "pschut!" replied the lady, "c'est une affaire decidee. monsieur le gouverneur ne parle pas l'anglois. c'est _absolument necessaire_ que le jeune homme apprenne notre langue; et c'est mon plaisir de l'enseigner. au revoir, monsieur de fontanges. charlotte, va chercher des habits." volume two, chapter three. 'tis pleasing to be schooled in a strange tongue by female lips and eyes; that is, i mean when both the teacher and the taught are young, as was the case, at least, where i had been. they smile so when one's right, and when one's wrong they smile still more. byron. monsieur de fontanges, aware of the impetuosity and caprice of his wife (at the same time that he acknowledged her many redeeming good qualities), did not further attempt to thwart her inclinations. his great objection to her plan was, the impropriety of retaining a prisoner, whom he was bound to give up to the proper authorities. he made a virtue of necessity, and having acquainted newton with the wish of madame de fontanges, requested his parole of honour that he would not attempt to escape, if he was not delivered up to the authorities, and remain some time at lieu desire. newton, who had no wish to be acquainted with a french _cachot_, sooner than it was absolutely necessary, gave the promise required by monsieur de fontanges, assuring him that ingratitude was not a part of his character. monsieur de fontanges then requested that newton would accept of a portion of his wardrobe, which he would direct to be sent to the room that would be prepared for him. this affair being arranged, newton made his bow to the lady, and in company with monsieur de fontanges, retired from the boudoir. it may be suspected by the reader, that madame de fontanges was one of those ladies who cared a great deal about having their own way, and very little for her husband. as to the first part of the accusation, i can only observe, that i never yet had the fortune to fall in with any lady who did not try all she could to have her own way, nor do i conceive it to be a crime. as to the second, if the reader has formed that supposition, he is much mistaken. madame de fontanges was very much attached to her husband, and the attachment as well as the confidence was reciprocal. it was not therefore from any feeling of jealousy that monsieur de fontanges had combated her resolution; but, as we have before observed, from a conviction that he was wanting in his duty, when he did not report the arrival of newton at the plantation. the wish of madame de fontanges to detain newton was, as she declared, a caprice on her part, which had entered her head, to amuse herself by teaching him french. it is true that had not newton been remarkably prepossessing in his appearance, the idea would in all probability have never been conceived; but, observing that he was much above the common class, and wishing to relieve the general monotony of her life by any thing which would create amusement, she had formed the idea, which, when combated by her husband, was immediately strengthened to a resolution. of this newton received the benefit. an excellent dinner or rather supper with monsieur de fontanges, a comfortable bed in a room supplied with all that convenience or luxury could demand, enabled him to pass a very different night from those which we have latterly described. about twelve o'clock the ensuing day, newton was summoned by one of the slave girls to the boudoir of madame de fontanges. he found her on the ottoman, as before. newton, who had been operated upon by a black barber, and was dressed in the habiliments of monsieur de fontanges, made a much more respectable appearance than upon his former introduction. "bon jour, monsieur," said the lady. newton bowed respectfully. "comment vous appelez-vous?" newton, not understanding, answered with another bow. "le jeun homme n'entends pas madame," observed mimi. "que c'est ennuyant, monsieur," said madame fontanges, pointing to herself; "moi--madame de fontanges--vous,"--pointing to him. "newton forster." "nu--tong fasta--ah, c'est bon, cela commence," said the lady. "allons, mes enfans repetez lui tous vous noms." "moi--mimi," said the girl bearing that name, going up to newton, and pointing to herself. "mimi," repeated newton, with a smile and nod of his head. "moi--charlotte." "moi--louise." "moi--celeste." "moi--nina." "moi--caroline." "moi--manchette." "et moi--cupidon," finished the little black boy, running up, and then retreating as fast back into his corner. newton repeated all the names, as the individuals respectively introduced themselves to him. then there was a pause, during which, at the desire of monsieur de fontanges, newton was offered a chair, and sat down. "allons--dites lui les noms de toute la garniture," said madame de fontanges to her attendants. "oui, madame," said mimi, going up to newton, and pointing to the fan in her hand,--"eventail." "eventail," repeated newton, who began to be amused, and who now repeated every french word after them. "flacon," said charlotte, showing him the eau de cologne bottle. "chaise," cried louise, holding up a chair. "livre," said nina, pointing to a book. "mouchoir," said caroline, holding up an embroidered handkerchief. "montre" followed up manchette, pointing to her mistress's watch. "canape," cried celeste, pointing to the ottoman. "joli garcon," bawled out cupidon, coming up to newton, and pointing to himself. this created a laugh, and then the lesson was continued. every article in the room was successively pointed out to newton, and he was obliged to repeat the name; and afterwards the articles of their dress were resorted to, much to his amusement. then there was a dead stand:--the fact is, that there is no talking with noun substantives only. "ah! mon dieu! il faut envoyer pour monsieur de fontanges," cried the lady; "va le chercher, louise." monsieur de fontanges soon made his appearance, when the lady explained to him their dilemma, and requested his assistance. monsieur de fontanges laughed, and explained to newton, and then, by means of his interpretation, connected sentences were made, according to the fancy of the lady, some of which were the cause of great merriment. after an hour, the gentlemen made their bows. "i think," observed monsieur de fontanges, as they walked away, "that if you really are as anxious to learn our language as madame is to teach you, you had better come to me every morning for an hour. i shall have great pleasure in giving you any assistance in my power, and i trust that in a very short time that, with a little study of the grammar and dictionary, you will be able to hold a conversation with madame de fontanges, or even with her dark-complexioned page." newton expressed his acknowledgments, and the next day he received his first lesson; after which he was summoned to support the theory by practice in the boudoir of madame de fontanges. it is hardly necessary to observe that each day increased the facility of communication. for three months newton was domiciled with monsieur and madame fontanges, both of whom had gradually formed such an attachment to him, that the idea of parting never entered their head. he was now a very tolerable french scholar, and his narratives and adventures were to his benefactors a source of amusement, which amply repaid them for the trouble and kindness which they had shown to him. newton was, in fact, a general favourite with every one on the plantation, from the highest to the lowest; and his presence received the same smile of welcome at the cottage of the slave, as at the boudoir of madame de fontanges. whatever may have been the result of newton's observations relative to slavery in the english colonies, his feelings of dislike insensibly wore away during his residence at lieu desiree; there he was at least convinced that a slave might be perfectly happy. it must be acknowledged that the french have invariably proved the kindest and most considerate of masters, and the state of bondage is much mitigated in the islands which appertain to that nation. the reason is obvious: in france, there is a _bonhommie_, a degree of equality established between the different grades of society by universal politeness. a french servant is familiar with his master at the same time that he is respectful: and the master, in return, condescends to his inferior without forgetting their relative positions. this runs through society in general, and as no one can well be polite without some good-nature (for politeness, frivolous as it may appear, is a strong check upon those feelings of selfishness, too apt to be indulged in), it leads to a general feeling of good will towards others. this has naturally been practised by frenchmen wherever they may be; and the consequence is, that the slaves are treated with more consideration, and, in return, have warmer feelings of attachment towards their owners than are to be found in colonies belonging to other nations. newton perceived and acknowledged this, and, comparing the condition of the people at lieu desiree with that of most of the peasantry of europe, was unwillingly obliged to confess that the former were in every respect the more fortunate and the more happy of the two. one morning, soon after newton had breakfasted with monsieur de fontanges, and had been summoned to the boudoir, a letter was brought in. it was from the governor to monsieur de fontanges, stating that he had heard with great surprise that monsieur de fontanges concealed an english prisoner in his house, and desiring that he might be immediately sent up to head-quarters. that there might be no delay or refusal, a corporal, accompanied by two file of men, brought down the intimation to the plantation. newton was in the very middle of a long story, madame de fontanges on the ottoman, and her attendants collected round her, seated on the floor--even cupidon had advanced from his corner to within half distance, his mouth and eyes wide open, when monsieur de fontanges entered the boudoir, with anxiety and chagrin expressed in his countenance. "qu'est ce qu'il y a, mon ami?" said madame de fontanges, rising hastily and running up to her husband. monsieur de fontanges answered by putting the governor's letter into his wife's hands. "ah! les barbares!" cried madame de fontanges, "est il possible? pauvre monsieur nutong! on l'amene au cachot." "au cachot!" cried all the coloured girls at a breath, and bursting into tears--"oh ciel!" monsieur de fontanges then explained to newton the order which he had received. newton replied that he had had no right to expect otherwise on his first landing on the island; that he had incurred a heavy debt of gratitude to them for having preserved him so long from a prison; and that the remembrance of their kindness would tend to beguile the tedious hours of captivity (from which it may appear that newton, in point of expressing himself, was half a frenchman already). he then kissed the hand of madame de fontanges, tried to console the little slave girls, who were all _au desespoir_, patted cupidon on the head, by way of farewell, and quitted the boudoir, in which he had passed so many happy hours. when he was outside, he again expressed his obligations to monsieur de fontanges, who then stated his determination to call upon his brother, the governor, and try to alleviate the hardships of his lot as much as was possible. in less than an hour newton, in company with his host, was on the road to basse terre, leaving the corporal and his two file of men to walk back as fast as they could; the corporal having sufficient _savoir vivre_ not to refuse the pledge of the governor's brother for the safe delivery of the prisoner. it was not until late in the evening that they arrived at basse terre, when they immediately proceeded to the house of the governor, and were admitted to his presence. the governor, who had been much displeased at the circumstance of newton having remained so long on the island, was more pacified when monsieur de fontanges explained to him the way in which he had been made prisoner, and the hardships which he had previously endured. monsieur de fontanges accounted for his long detention at lieu desiree by stating the real fact, _viz_, the pertinacity of madame de fontanges; which, although it might have been considered a very poor argument in england, had its due weight in a french colony. the governor entered into conversation with newton, who detailed to him the horrors of the shipwreck which he had undergone. the narrative appeared to affect him much. he told newton that under such circumstances he could hardly consider him as a prisoner, and would take the first opportunity of releasing him, and would accept his parole for not quitting the island. newton returned his thanks for so much courtesy, and withdrew in company with monsieur de fontanges. "monsieur le marquis has much sympathy for those who have been shipwrecked," observed monsieur de fontanges, after they had quitted the room. "poor man! he lost his wife, a beautiful young woman, and his only child, a little girl, about seven years back, when they were proceeding home in a vessel bound to havre. the vessel has never been heard of since, and he has never recovered the loss." "in what year was it?" inquired newton. "in the autumn of the year ---." "there were many vessels wrecked on our coast during that dreadful winter," replied newton: "i myself, when in a coaster, picked up several articles belonging to a french vessel. i have them in my possession now;--they are of some value." "what did they consist of?" inquired monsieur de fontanges. "a large trunk, containing the wearing apparel of a female and a child: there were also several orders of knighthood, and some jewels; but i hardly know what they were, as it is some time since i have looked at them." "how strange that you could find no clue to discover the names of the parties!" "there were french letters," replied newton, "which i could not read; they were only signed by initials, which did not correspond with the marks on the linen belonging to the lady, although the surname might have been the same as that of the child." "do you recollect the initials?" "perfectly well: the marks on the lady's apparel were lc, that on the linen of the infant jf." "mon dieu! mon dieu!" cried monsieur de fontanges; "then it may indeed have been the apparel of the marquise de fontanges. the linen must have been some marked with her maiden name, which was louise de colmar. the child was christened julie de fontanges, after her grandmother. my poor brother had intended to take his passage home in the same vessel, his successor being hourly expected; but the frigate in which the new governor had embarked was taken by an english squadron, and my brother was forced to remain here." "then the property must undoubtedly belong to the marquis," replied newton: "i only wish i could have been able to assure him that his wife and child were equally safe; but that i am afraid is impossible, as there can be no doubt but that they were all lost. do you mean to communicate what i have told you to the marquis?" "by no means; it will only tear open a wound which has but partially healed. if you will send me all the particulars when you return i shall feel much obliged, not that the effects are of any consequence. the marquise and her child are undoubtedly lost, and it could be no consolation to my brother to ascertain that a trunk of their effects had been saved." here the conversation dropped, and was never again renewed. newton was heartily welcomed again at lieu desiree, where he remained three weeks, when a note from the governor informed him that a cartel was about to sail. it was with mutual pain that newton and his kind friends took their farewell of each other. in this instance monsieur de fontanges did not accompany him to basse terre; but bade him adieu at his own door. newton, soon after he was on the road, perceived that monsieur de fontanges had acted from a motive of delicacy, that he might not receive the thanks of newton for two valises, well furnished, which overtook newton about a quarter of a mile from the plantation, slung on each side of a horse, under the guidance of a little negro, perched on the middle. newton made his acknowledgments to the governor for his kind consideration, then embarked on board of the marie therese schooner, and in three days he once more found himself on shore in an english colony; with which piece of information i conclude this chapter. volume two, chapter four. mercy on us! a bairn, a very pretty bairn, a boy, a child. shakespeare. when newton was landed from the cartel at jamaica, he found the advantage of not being clad in the garb of a sailor, as all those who were in such costume were immediately handed over to the admiral of the station, to celebrate their restoration to liberty on board of a man-of-war; but the clothes supplied to him by the generosity of monsieur de fontanges had any thing but a maritime appearance, and newton was landed with his portmanteaus by one of the man-of-war's boats, whose crew had little idea of his being a person so peculiarly suited to their views, possessing as he did the necessary qualifications of youth, activity, and a thorough knowledge of his profession. newton was so anxious to return home, that after a few days' expensive sojourn at an hotel, frequented chiefly by the officers of the man-of-war in port, he resolved to apply to the captain of a frigate ordered home with despatches, to permit him to take a passage. he had formed a slight intimacy with some of the officers, who assured him that he would experience no difficulty in obtaining his request. his application was made in person, and after his statement that he had been released in the last cartel which had come from guadaloupe, his request was immediately granted, without any farther questions being put relative to his profession, or the manner in which he had been captured. the captain very civilly gave him to understand, that he might mess with the gun-room officers, if he could arrange with them, and that he expected to sail on the evening of the ensuing day. newton immediately repaired on board of the frigate, to ascertain if the officers would receive him as a messmate; and further, whether the amount of his mess-money would be more than he could in prudence afford. at the bottom of one of the portmanteaus he had found a bag of two hundred dollars, supplied by his generous host, and in the same bag there was also deposited a small note from madame de fontanges, wishing him success, and enclosing (as a _souvenir_) a ring, which he had often perceived on her finger; but, adequate as was this supply to his own wants, newton did not forget that his father was, in all probability, in great distress, and would require his assistance on his return. he was therefore naturally anxious not to expend more than was absolutely necessary in defraying his passage. the old first-lieutenant, to whom, upon his arrival on board, he was introduced as commanding officer, received him with much urbanity; and when newton stated that he had obtained the captain's permission to make the application immediately acceded to his wishes on the part of his messmates as well as of himself. when newton followed up his application, by requesting to know the expense which he would incur, as, in case of its being greater than his finances could meet, he would request permission to choose a less expensive mess. "i am aware," replied the veteran, "that those who have been shipwrecked, and in a french prison, are not likely to be very flush of cash. it is, however, a point on which i must consult my messmates. excuse me one moment, and i will bring you an answer: i have no doubt but that it will be satisfactorily arranged; but there is nothing like settling these points at once. mr webster, see that the lighter shoves off the moment that she is clear," continued the first-lieutenant to one of the midshipmen as he descended the quarter-deck ladder, leaving newton to walk the quarter-deck. in a few minutes the first-lieutenant reappeared, with one or two others of the gun-room mess, who greeted him most cordially. "i have seen all that are requisite," said he to newton. "two i have not spoken to, the master and the purser; they are both poor men, with families. if, therefore, you will not be too proud to accept it, i am requested to offer you a free passage from the other officers of the mess, as we feel convinced that your company will more than repay us. the proportion of the expense of your passage to the other two will be but one or two pounds;--a trifle, indeed, but still of consequence to them; and that is the only expense which you will incur. if you can afford to pay that, any time after your arrival in england, we shall be most happy to receive you, and make the passage as comfortable and pleasant as circumstances will permit." to this most liberal proposition newton most gladly acceded. the officers who had come on deck with the first-lieutenant invited newton below, where he was introduced to the remainder of the mess, who were most of them fine young men, as happy and careless as if youth was to last for ever. having pledged each other in a glass of grog, newton returned on shore. the next morning he made his arrangements, paid his bill at the hotel, and before twelve o'clock was again on board of the frigate, which lay with the blue peter hoisted, and her fore-topsail loose, waiting for her captain, who was still detained on shore while the admiral and governor made up their despatches. when newton had applied to the captain of the frigate for a passage home, he could hardly believe it possible that the person to whom he was introduced could be entrusted with the command of so fine a vessel. he was a slight-made, fair-complexioned lad of nineteen or twenty years at the most, without an incipient mark of manhood on his chin. he appeared lively, active, and good-natured; but what were the other qualifications he possessed, to discover such a mark of confidence, were to newton an enigma requiring solution. it was, however, to be explained in very few words. he was the son of the admiral of the station, and (as at that period there was no regulation with respect to age, to check the most rapid promotion), after he had served his time as midshipman, in less than two months he had been raised through the different ranks of lieutenant, commander, and post-captain. on receiving the latter step, he was at the same time appointed to the frigate in question, one of the finest which belonged to his majesty's service. in order, however, that he should to a certain degree be in leading-strings, a very old and efficient officer had been selected by the admiral as his first-lieutenant. whether, in common justice, the captain and his subordinate ought not to have changed places, i leave the reader to guess; and it was the more unfair towards the worthy old first-lieutenant, as, if the admiral had not entertained such a high opinion of his abilities and judgment, as to confide to him the charge of his son, he would long before have been promoted himself to one of the many vacancies which so repeatedly occurred. captain carrington had all the faults, which, if not inherent, will naturally be acquired by those who are too early intrusted with power. he was self-sufficient, arbitrary, and passionate. his good qualities consisted in a generous disposition, a kindness of heart when not irritated, a manly courage, and a frank acknowledgment of his errors. had he been allowed to serve a proper time in the various grades of his profession,--had he been taught to _obey_ before he had been permitted to _command_,--he had within him all the materials for a good officer: as it was, he was neither officer, sailor, nor any thing else, except a _spoiled boy_. he would often attempt to carry on the duty as captain, and as often failed from want of knowledge. he would commence manoeuvring the ship, but find himself unable to proceed. at these unfortunate _break downs_, he would be obliged to resign the speaking-trumpet to the first-lieutenant; and if, as sometimes happened, the latter (either from accident, or perhaps from a pardonable pique at having the duty taken out of his hands), was not at his elbow to prompt him when at fault--at these times the cant phrase of the officers, taken from some farce, used to be, "_york, you're wanted_." about an hour before sunset the juvenile captain made his appearance on board, rather _fresh_ from taking leave of his companions and acquaintances on shore. the frigate was got under weigh by the first-lieutenant, and before the sun had disappeared was bounding over the foaming seas in the direction of the country which had nurtured to maturity the gnarled oak selected for her beautiful frame. newton joined his new messmates in drinking a prosperous passage to old england; and, with a heart grateful for his improved prospects, retired to the hammock which had been prepared for him. when newton rose in the morning, he found that the wind, had shifted contrary during the night, and that the frigate was close hauled, darting through the smooth water with her royals set. at ten o'clock the master proposed tacking the ship, and the first-lieutenant went down to report his wish to the captain. "very well, mr nourse," replied the captain; "turn the hands up." "ay, ay, sir," replied the first-lieutenant, leaving the cabin. "call the boatswain, quarter-master--all hands 'bout ship." "all hands 'bout ship," was now bellowed out by the boatswain, and re-echoed by his mates at the several hatchways, with a due proportion of whistling from their pipes. "tumble up, there--tumble up smartly, my lads." in a minute every man was on deck, and at his station; many of them, however, _tumbling down_ in their laudable hurry to _tumble up_. "silence there, fore and aft--every man to his station," cried the first-lieutenant, through his speaking trumpet. "all ready, sir," reported the first-lieutenant to the captain, who had followed him on deck. "shall we put the helm down?" "if you please, mr nourse." "down with the helm." when the master reported it down, "the helm's a-lee," roared the first-lieutenant. but captain carrington, who thought light winds and smooth water a good opportunity for practice, interrupted him as he was walking towards the weather gangway: "mr nourse, mr nourse, if you please, i'll work the ship." "very good, sir," replied the first-lieutenant, handing him the speaking-trumpet. "rise tacks and sheets, if you please, sir," continued the first-lieutenant (_sotto voce_), "the sails are lifting." "tacks and sheets!" cried the captain. "gather in on the lee main-tack, my lads," said the first-lieutenant, going to the lee gangway to see the duty performed. now captain carrington did know that "mainsail haul" was the next word of command; but as this order requires a degree of precision as to the exact time at which it is given, he looked over his shoulder for the first-lieutenant, who usually prompted him in this exigence. not seeing him there, he became disconcerted; and during the few seconds that he cast his anxious eyes about the deck, to discover where the first-lieutenant was, the ship had passed head to wind. "mainsail haul!" at last cried the captain; but it was too late; the yards would not swing round; every thing went wrong; and the ship was _in irons_. "you hauled a little too late, sir," observed the first-lieutenant, who had joined him. "you must box her off, sir, if you please." but captain carrington, although he could put the ship in irons, did not know how to take her out. "the ship is certainly most cursedly out of trim," observed he; "she'll neither wear nor stay. try her yourself, mr nourse," continued the captain, "i'm sick of her;"--and with a heightened colour he handed the speaking-trumpet over to the first-lieutenant. "york, you're wanted," observed the lieutenant abaft to the marine-officer, dropping down the corners of his mouth. "york, you're wanted," tittered the midshipmen, in whispers, as they passed each other. "well, i've won your grog, jim," cried one of the marines, who was standing at the forebrace; "i knew he'd never do it." "he's like me," observed another, in a low tone; "he left school too arly, and lost his edication." such were the results of injudicious patronage. a fine ship intrusted to a boy, ignorant of his duty, laughed at, not only by the officers, but even by the men; and the honour of the country at stake, and running no small risk of being tarnished, if the frigate met with a vigorous opponent. [it is true that an officer must now serve a certain time in the various grades before promotion, which time as supposed to be sufficient for him to acquire a knowledge of his profession; but whether that knowledge is obtained, depends, as before, upon the young officer's prospects in life. if from family interest he is _sure_ of promotion, he is not quite so sure of being a seaman.] thank god, this is now over! judicious regulations have put a stop to such selfish and short-sighted patronage. selfish, because those who were guilty of it risked the honour of the nation to advance the interests of their _proteges_; short-sighted, because it is of little use making a young man a captain if you cannot make him an officer. i might here enter into a discussion which might be of some use, but it would be out of place in a work intended more for amusement than for instruction; nor would it in all probability be read. i always make it a rule myself, to skip over all those parts introduced in a light work which are of denser materials than the rest; and i cannot expect but that others will do the same. there is a time and place for all things; and like the master of ravenscourt, "i bide my time." the frigate dashed gallantly through the water, at one time careening to an adverse wind, at another rolling, before a favouring gale: and, to judge from her rapid motion, she was not in such very bad trim as captain carrington had found out. each day rapidly brought her nearer to their cherished home, as "she walked the waters like a thing of life." i can conceive no prouder situation in this world than being captain of a fine frigate, with a well-disciplined crew; but damn your _eight-and-twenties_! "we had better take in the royals, if you please, sir," said the first-lieutenant, as he came, with his hat in his hand, into the cabin, where the captain was at dinner with several of the officers, the table crowded with a variety of decanters and french green bottles. "pho! nonsense! mr nourse, we'll carry them a little longer," replied the captain, who had been _carrying too much sail_ another way. "sit down and take a glass of wine with us. you always cry out before you're hurt, nourse." "i thank you, sir," replied the first-lieutenant, seriously; "you will excuse me: it is time to beat to quarters." "well, then, do so; i had no idea it was so late. mr forster, you don't pass the bottle." "i have taken enough, i thank you, sir." the officers present also made the same statement. "well, then, if you won't, gentlemen--steward, let's have some coffee." the coffee appeared and disappeared; and the officers made their bows and quitted the cabin as the first-lieutenant entered it to report the muster at quarters. "all present and sober, sir. i am afraid, sir," continued he, "the masts will be over the side, if we do not clew up the royals." "stop a moment, if you please, mr nourse, until i go up and judge for myself," replied the captain, who was inclined to be pertinacious. captain carrington went on deck. the men were still ranged round the decks, at their quarters; more than one pair of eyes were raised aloft to watch the masts, which were bending like coach-whips, and complaining bitterly. "shall we beat a retreat, and pipe hands to shorten sail, sir? we had better take in the third reefs, sir? it looks, very squally to-night," observed the first-lieutenant. "really, mr nourse, i don't exactly perceive the necessity--" but at that moment the fore and main-top-gallant-masts went over the side; and the look-out man at the fore-top-gallant-mast-head, who had been called down by the first-lieutenant, but did not hear the injunction, was hurled into the sea to leeward. "helm down!" cried the master. "man overboard!--man overboard!" echoed round the decks; while some of the officers and men jumped into the quarter boats, and off the gripes and lashings. captain carrington, who was immediately sobered by the catastrophe, which he felt had been occasioned by his own wilfulness, ran aft to the taffrail; and when he saw the poor sailor struggling in the waves, impelled by his really fine nature, he darted overboard to save him; but he was not by any means a powerful swimmer, and, encumbered with his apparel, it was soon evident that he could do no more than keep himself afloat. newton, who perceived how matters stood, with great presence of mind caught up two of the oars from the boat hanging astern, and darted over to the assistance of both. one oar he first carried to the seaman, who was exhausted and sinking. placing it under his arms, he then swam with the other to captain carrington, who could not have remained above water but a few seconds more without the timely relief. he then quietly swam by the side of captain carrington, without any attempt at extra exertion. the boat was soon lowered down, and in a few minutes they were all three again on board, and in safety. captain carrington thanked newton for his assistance, and acknowledged his error to the first-lieutenant. the officers and men looked upon newton with respect and increased goodwill; and the sailors declared that the captain was a prime little fellow, although he hadn't had an "edication." nothing worthy of remark occurred during the remainder of the passage. the ship arrived at plymouth, and newton took leave of his friendly shipmates, captain carrington requesting that newton would command any interest that he had, if ever it should be required. it was with a throbbing heart that newton descended from the outside of the coach which conveyed him to liverpool, and hastened towards the obscure street in which he left his father residing. it was about four o'clock in the afternoon when newton arrived at his father's door. to his delight, he perceived through the shop-window that his father was sitting at his bench;--but his joy was checked when he perceived his haggard countenance. the old man appeared to be absorbed in deep thought, his cheek resting upon his hand, and his eyes cast down upon the little bench, to which the vice used to be fixed, but from which it was now removed. the door was ajar, and newton entered with his portmanteau in his hand; but whatever noise he might have made was not sufficient to rouse nicholas, who continued in the same position. with one glance round the shop newton perceived that it was bare of every thing; even the glazed cases on the counter, which contained the spectacles, etcetera, had disappeared. all bespoke the same tale, as did the appearance of his father--misery and starvation. "my dearest father!" cried newton, unable to contain himself any longer. "how!--what?" cried nicholas, starting at the voice, but not looking round. "pho! nonsense! he's dead," continued the old man, communing with himself, as he again settled into his former position. "my dearest father, i'm not dead!--look round--'tis newton! alive and well." "newton!" replied the old man, rising from his stool, and tottering to the counter, which was between them, on which he laid both his hands to support himself, as he looked into his son's face. "'tis newton, sure enough! my dear, dear boy!--then you an't dead?" "no, indeed, father; i am alive and well, thank god!" "thank god too!" said nicholas, dropping his face on the counter, and bursting into tears. newton sprung over to the side where his father was, and embraced him. for some time they were locked in each other's arms; when nicholas, who had recovered his composure, looked at newton, and said, "are you hungry, my dear boy?" "yes, indeed i am," replied newton, smiling, as the tears coursed down his cheeks; "for i have had nothing since breakfast." "and i have had nothing for these two days," replied nicholas, leaning back to the wall in evident exhaustion. "good god! you don't say so?" cried newton, "where can i buy something ready cooked?" "at the shop round the corner; there's a nice piece of boiled beef there; i saw it yesterday. i offered my improvement on the duplex for a slice; but he would not trust me, even for that." newton ran out, and in a few minutes re-appeared with the beef in question, some bread, and a pot of porter, with two plates and knives and forks, which the people had lent him, upon his putting down a deposit. he laid them on the counter before his father, who, without saying a word, commenced his repast: the beef disappeared--the bread vanished--the porter-pot was raised to his mouth, and in a moment it was dry! "never made a better dinner, newton," observed nicholas; "but i wish there had been a little more of it!" newton, who had only been a spectator, immediately went out for another supply; and on his return assisted his father in its demolition. "newton," said nicholas, who for a few moments had relinquished his task, "i've been thinking--that--i should like another slice of that beef! and newton, as i said before--i'll trouble you for the porter!" volume two, chapter five. _orlando_. then forbear your food a little while, while, like a doe, i go to find my fawn, and give it food. there is a poor old roan oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger. shakespeare. reader, were you ever really hungry? i do not mean the common hunger arising from health and exercise, and which you have the means of appeasing at the moment when it may be considered a source of pleasure rather than of pain:--i refer to the gnawing of starvation; because if you have not, you can form no conception of the agony of the suffering. fortunately, but very few of my readers can have any knowledge of it; the general sympathy which it creates is from an ideal, not a practical knowledge. it has been my lot during the vicissitudes of a maritime life to have suffered hunger to extremity; and although impossible to express the corporeal agony, yet some notion of it may be conceived from the effect it had upon my mind. i felt that i hated the whole world, kin or no kin; that theft was a virtue, murder excusable, and cannibalism any thing but disgusting; from which the inference may be safely drawn, viz, that i was devilish hungry. i mention this, because nicholas forster, although he had been two days without food, and had disposed of every article which was saleable, was endued with so much strength of principle, as not to have thought (or if he had thought of it, immediately to have dismissed the thought) of vending the property found in the trunk by his son, and which had remained so long in their possession. that few would have been so scrupulous, i will acknowledge: whether nicholas was over-scrupulous, is a question i leave to be debated by those who are fond of argument. i only state the fact. until the arrival of the ship brought home by mr berecroft, the allotment of newton's wages had been regularly paid to his father; but when the owner discovered that the brig had parted company with the convoy, and had not since been heard of, the chance of capture was considered so great that the owner refused to advance any more on newton's account. nicholas was thus thrown upon his own resources, which were as small as they well could be. the crew of the brig, who quitted her in the boat, were picked up by a homeward-bound vessel, and brought what was considered the certain intelligence of jackson and newton having perished on the wreck. nicholas, who had frequently called at the owner's since his allowance had been stopped, to obtain tidings of his son, was overwhelmed with the intelligence of his death. he returned to his own house, and never called there again. mr berecroft, who wished to find him out and relieve him, could not ascertain in what quarter of the town he resided, and shortly after was obliged to proceed upon another voyage. thus was the poor optician left to his fate; and it is probable that, but for the fortunate return of newton, it would soon have been miserably decided. newton was much pleased when he learnt from his father that he had not disposed of the property which he had picked up at sea, for he now felt assured that he had discovered the owner at guadaloupe, and intended to transmit it to monsieur de fontanges as soon as he could find a safe conveyance; but this at present was not practicable. as soon as his father had been re-established in his several necessaries and comforts, newton, aware that his purse would not last for ever, applied to the owner of the brig for employment; but he was decidedly refused. the loss of the vessel had soured his temper against any one who had belonged to her. he replied that he considered newton to be an unlucky person, and must decline his sailing in any of his vessels, even if a vacancy should occur. to every other application made elsewhere newton met with the same ill fortune. mr berecroft was not there to recommend or to assist him, and months passed away in anxious expectation of his patron's return, when the intelligence was brought home that he had been carried off by the yellow fever, which that year had been particularly malignant and fatal. the loss of his only protector was a heavy blow to poor newton; but he bore up against his fortune, and redoubled his exertions. as before, he could always obtain employment before the mast; but this he refused, knowing that if again impressed, however well he might be off himself, and however fortunate in prize-money, his father would be left destitute, and in all probability be starved before he could return. the recollection of the situation in which he had found him on his return from the west indies made newton resolve not to leave his father without some surety of his being provided with the means of subsistence. he was not without some employment, and earned sufficient for their mutual maintenance by working as a rigger on board of the ships fitting for sea; and he adhered to this means of livelihood until something better should present itself. had newton been alone in the world, or his father able to support himself, he would have immediately applied to captain carrington to receive him in some capacity on board of his frigate, or have entered on board of some other man-of-war. newton's heart was too generous, and his mind too truly english, not to bound when he read or heard of the gallant encounters between the vessels of the rival nations, and he longed to be one of the many thousands so diligently employed in twining the wreath of laurel round their country's brow. nearly one year of constant fatigue, constant expectation, and constant disappointment was thus passed away; affairs grew daily worse, employment scarce, money scarcer. newton, who had been put off from receiving his wages until the ensuing day, which, as they had no credit, was in fact putting off their dinner also to the morrow, went home, and dropped on a chair in a despondent mood, at the table, where nicholas was already seated. "well, newton, what's for dinner?" said nicholas, drawing his chair close to the table, in preparation. "i have not been paid the money due to me," replied newton, "and, father, i'm afraid there's nothing." nicholas backed his chair from the table again, with an air of resignation, as newton continued-- "indeed, father, i think we must try our fortune elsewhere. what's the use of staying where we cannot get employment? every thing is now gone, except our wearing apparel. we might raise some money upon mine, it is true; but had we not better, before we spend it, try if fortune will be more favourable to us in some other place?" "why, yes, newton, i've been thinking that if we were to go to london, my improvement on the duplex--" "is that our only chance there, sir?" replied newton, half smiling. "why no; now i think of it, i've a brother there, john forster, or jack, as we used to call him. it's near thirty years since i heard of him; but somebody told me when you were in the west indies, that he had become a great lawyer, and was making a large fortune. i quite forgot the circumstance till just now." newton had before heard his father mention that he had two brothers, but whether dead or alive he could not tell. the present intelligence appeared to hold out some prospect of relief, for newton could not for a moment doubt that if his uncle was in such flourishing circumstances, he would not refuse assistance to his brother. he therefore resolved not to wait until their means were totally exhausted: the next day he disposed of all his clothes except one suit, and found himself richer than he had imagined. having paid his landlord the trifle due for rent, without any other incumbrance than the packet of articles picked up in the trunk at sea, three pounds sterling in his pocket, and the ring of madame de fontanges on his little finger, newton with his father set off on foot for the metropolis. volume two, chapter six. i labour to diffuse the important good till this great truth by all be understood, that all the pious duty which we owe our parents, friends, our country, and our god, the seed of every virtue here below, from discipline and early culture grow. west. the different chapters of a novel remind me of a convoy of vessels. the incidents and _dramatis personae_ are so many respective freights, all under the charge of the inventor, who, like a man-of-war, must see them all safely, and together, into port. and as the commanding officer, when towing one vessel which has lagged behind up to the rest, finds that in the mean time another has dropped nearly out of sight, and is obliged to cast off the one in tow, to perform the same necessary duty towards the stern-most, so am i necessitated for the present to quit nicholas and newton, while i run down to edward forster and his _protegee_. it must be recollected that during our narrative, "time has rolled his ceaseless course," and season has succeeded season, until the infant, in its utter helplessness to lift its little hands for succour, has sprung up into a fair blue-eyed little maiden of nearly eight years old, light as a fairy in her proportions, bounding as a fawn in her gait; her eyes beaming with joy, and her cheeks suffused with the blush of health, when tripping over the sea-girt hills; meek and attentive when listening to the precepts of her fond and adopted parent. faithful, the newfoundland dog is no more, but his portrait hangs over the mantle-piece in the little parlour. mrs beazeley, the housekeeper, has become inert and querulous from rheumatism and the burden of added years. a little girl, daughter of robinson, the fisherman has been called in to perform her duties, while she basks in the summer's sun or hangs over the winter's fire. edward forster's whole employment and whole delight has long been centred in his darling child, whose beauty of person, quickness of intellect, generous disposition, and affectionate heart, amply repay him for his kind protection. of all chapters which can be ventured upon, one upon education is perhaps the most tiresome. most willingly would i pass it over, not only for the reader's sake, but for mine own; for his--because it cannot well be otherwise than dry and uninteresting; for mine--because i do not exactly know how to write it. but this cannot be. amber was not brought up according to the prescribed maxims of mesdames appleton and hamilton; and as effects cannot be satisfactorily comprehended without the causes are made known, so it becomes necessary, not only that the chapter should be written, but, what is still more vexatious, absolutely necessary that it should be read. before i enter upon this most unpleasant theme--unpleasant to all parties, for no one likes to teach and no one likes to learn, i cannot help remarking how excessively _au fait_ we find most elderly maiden ladies upon every point connected with the rearing of our unprofitable species. they are erudite upon every point _ab ovo_, and it would appear that their peculiar knowledge of the _theory_ can but arise from their attentions having never been diverted by the _practice_. let it be the teeming mother or the new-born babe--the teething infant or the fractious child--the dirty, pin-before urchin or sampler-spoiling girl--school-boy lout or sapling miss--voice-broken, self-admiring hobby-de-hoy, or expanding conscious and blushing maiden, the whole arcana of nature and of art has been revealed to them alone. let it be the scarlet-fever or a fit of passion, the measles or a shocking fib--whooping-cough or apple-stealing--learning too slow or eating too fast--slapping a sister or clawing a brother--let the disease be bodily or mental, they alone possess the panacea; and blooming matrons, spreading out in their pride, like the anxious chuckling hen, over their numerous encircling offspring, who have borne them with a mother's throes, watched over them with a mother's anxious mind, and reared them with a mother's ardent love, are considered to be wholly incompetent, in the opinion of these desiccated and barren branches of nature's stupendous, ever-bearing tree. mrs beazeley, who had lost her husband soon after marriage, was not fond of children, as they interfered with her habits of extreme neatness. as far as amber's education was concerned, all we can say is, that if the old housekeeper did her no good, she certainly did her no harm. as amber increased in years and intelligence, so did her thirst for knowledge on topics upon which mrs beazeley was unable to give her any correct information. under these circumstances, when applied to, mrs beazeley, who was too conscious to mislead the child, was accustomed to place her hand upon her back, and complain of the rheumatiz--"such a stitch, my dear love, can't talk now--ask your pa' when he comes home." edward forster had maturely weighed the difficulties of the charge imposed upon him, that of educating a female. the peculiarity of her situation, without a friend in the wide world except himself; and his days, in all probability, numbered to that period at which she would most require an adviser--that period, when the heart rebels against the head, and too often overthrows the legitimate dynasty of reason, determined him to give a masculine character to her education, as most likely to prove the surest safeguard through a deceitful world. aware that more knowledge is to be imparted to a child by conversation than by any other means (for by this system education is divested of its drudgery), during the first six years of her life amber knew little more than the letters of the alphabet. it was not until her desire of information was excited to such a degree as to render her anxious to obtain her own means of acquiring it that amber was taught to read; and then it was at her own request. edward forster was aware that a child of six years old, willing to learn, would soon pass by another who had been drilled to it at an earlier age and against its will, and whose mind had been checked in its expansive powers by the weight which constantly oppressed its infant memory. until the above age the mind of amber had been permitted to run as unconfined through its own little regions of fancy as her active body had been allowed to spring up the adjacent hills--and both were equally beautified and strengthened by the healthy exercise. religion was deeply impressed upon her grateful heart; but it was simplified almost to unity, that it might be clearly understood. it was conveyed to her through the glorious channel of nature, and god was loved and feared from the contemplation and admiration of his works. did amber fix her eyes upon the distant ocean, or watch the rolling of the surf; did they wander over the verdant hills, or settle on the beetling clift; did she raise her cherub-face to the heavens, and wonder at the studded firmament of stars, or the moon sailing in her cold beauty, or the sun blinding her in his warmth and splendour; she knew that it was god who made them all. did she ponder over the variety of the leaf; did she admire the painting of the flower, or watch the motions of the minute insect, which, but for her casual observation, might have lived and died unseen;--she felt--she knew that all was made for man's advantage or enjoyment, and that god was great and good. her orisons were short, but they were sincere; unlike the child who, night and morning, stammers through a "belief" which it cannot comprehend, and whose ideas of religion are, from injudicious treatment, too soon connected with feelings of impatience and disgust. curiosity has been much abused. from a habit we have contracted in this world of not calling things by their right names, it has been decried as a vice, whereas it ought to have been classed as a virtue. had adam first discovered the forbidden fruit, he would have tasted it, without, like eve, requiring the suggestions of the devil to urge him on to disobedience. but if by curiosity was occasioned the fall of man, it is the same passion by which he is spurred to rise again, and reappear only inferior to the deity. the curiosity of little minds may be impertinent; but the curiosity of great minds is the thirst for knowledge--the daring of our immortal powers--the enterprise of the soul, to raise itself again to its original high estate. it was curiosity which stimulated the great newton to search into the laws of heaven, and enabled his master-mind to translate the vast mysterious page of nature, ever before our eyes since the creation of the world, but never till he appeared, to be read by mortal man. it is this passion which must be nurtured in our childhood, for upon its healthy growth and vigour depend the future expansion of the mind. how little money need be expended to teach a child, and yet what a quantity of books we have to pay for! amber had hardly ever looked into a book, and yet she knew more, that is, had more general useful knowledge than others who were twice her age. how small was edward forster's little parlour--how humble the furniture it contained!--a carpet, a table, a few chairs, a small china vase, as an ornament, on the mantle-piece. how few were the objects brought to amber's view in their small secluded home! the plates and knives for dinner, a silver spoon or two, and their articles of wearing apparel. yet how endless, how inexhaustible was the amusement and instruction derived from these trifling sources!--for these were forster's books. the carpet--its hempen ground carried them to the north, from whence the material came, the inhabitants of the frozen world, their manners and their customs, the climate and their cities, their productions and their sources of wealth. its woollen surface, with its various dyes--each dye containing an episode of an island or a state, a point of natural history, or of art and manufacture. the mahogany table, like some magic vehicle, transported them in a second to the torrid zone, where the various tropical flowers and fruit, the towering cocoa-nut, the spreading palm, the broad-leaved banana, the fragrant pine--all that was indigenous to the country, all that was peculiar in the scenery and the clime, were pictured to the imagination of the delighted amber. the little vase upon the mantle-piece swelled into a splendid atlas of eastern geography, an inexhaustible folio, describing indian customs, the asiatic splendour of costume, the gorgeous thrones of the descendants of the prophet, the history of the prophet himself, the superior instinct and stupendous body of the elephant; all that edward forster had collected of nature or of art, through these extensive regions, were successively displayed, until they returned to china, from whence they had commenced their travels. thus did the little vase, like the vessel taken up by the fisherman in the arabian nights, contain a giant confined by the seal of solomon--knowledge. the knife and spoon brought food unto the mind as well as to the body. the mines were entered, the countries pointed out in which they were to be found, the various metals, their value, and the uses to which they were applied, the dress again led them abroad; the cotton hung in pods upon the tree, the silkworm spun its yellow tomb, all the process of manufacture was explained. the loom again was worked by fancy, until the article in comment was again produced. thus was amber instructed and amused; and thus, with nature for his hornbook, and art for his primer, did the little parlour of edward forster expand into "the universe." volume two, chapter seven. "they boast their noble birth; conduct us to the tombs of their forefathers, and from age to age ascending, trumpet to their illustrious race." cowper. devoted as he was to the instruction of his adopted child, edward forster was nevertheless aware that more was required in the education of a female than he was competent to fulfil. many and melancholy were his reveries on the forlorn prospects of the little girl (considering his own precarious life and the little chance that appeared of restoring her to her friends and relations), still he resolved that all that could should be done; the issue he left to providence. that she might not be cast wholly unknown upon the world, in case of his death, he had often taken amber to a neighbouring mansion, with the owner of which, lord aveleyn, he had long been on friendly terms; although, until latterly, he had declined mixing with the society which was there collected. many years before, the possessor had entered the naval service, and had, during the few months that he had served in the capacity of midshipman, been intrusted to the charge of edward forster. it is a curious fact, although little commented upon, how much society in general is affected by the entailment of property in aristocratical families upon the male heir; we may add, how much it is demoralised. the eldest son, accustomed from his earliest days to the flattery and adulation of dependents, is impressed with but one single idea, namely, that he is the fortunate person deputed by chance to spend so many thousands per annum, and that his brothers and sisters, with equal claims upon their parent, are to be almost dependent upon him for support. of this the latter are but too soon made conscious, by the difference of treatment which they experience from those around them; and feelings of envy and ill-will towards their eldest brother are but too often the result of such inequality. thus one of the greatest charms of life, unity between brethren, is destroyed. the possessor of the title and the estates is at last borne to his long home, there to lie until summoned before that presence where he and those who were kings, and those who were clowns, will stand trembling as erring men, awaiting the fiat of eternal justice. in his turn, the young lord revels in his youth. then how much more trying is the situation of the younger brothers. during their father's lifetime they had a home, and were brought up in scenes and with ideas commensurate with the fortune which had been entailed. now, they find themselves thrown upon the world, without the means of support, even adequate to their wants. like the steward in the parable, "they cannot dig, to beg they are ashamed;" and like him, they too often resort to unworthy means to supply their exigences. should the young heir prove sickly, what speculations on his demise! the worldly stake is so enormous, that the ties of nature are dissolved, and a brother rejoices at a brother's death! one generation is not sufficient to remove these feelings; the barrenness of his marriage bed, or the weakly state of his children, are successively speculated upon by the presumptive heir. let it not be supposed that i would infer this always to be the fact. i have put the extreme case, to point out what must ensue, according to the feelings of our nature, if care is not taken to prevent its occurrence. there is a cruelty, a more than cruelty, in parents bringing up their children with ideas which seldom can be realised, and rendering their future lives a pilgrimage of misery and discontent, if not of depravity. but the major part of our aristocracy are neither deficient in talent nor in worth. they set a bright example to the nobles of other countries, and very frequently even to the less demoralised society of our own. trammelled by the deeds of their forefathers, they employ every means in their power to remedy the evil, and a large proportion of their younger branches find useful and honourable employment in the army, the navy, or the church. but their numbers cannot all be provided for by these channels, and it is the country at large which is taxed to supply the means of sustenance to the younger scions of nobility; taxed directly in the shape of place and sinecure, indirectly in various ways, but in no way so heavily as by the monopoly of the east india company, which has so long been permitted to oppress the nation, that these _detrimentals_ (as they have named themselves) may be provided for. it is a well-known fact, that there is hardly a peer in the upper house, or many representatives of the people in the lower, who are not, or who anticipate to be, under some obligation to this company by their relations or connections being provided for in those distant climes; and it is this bribery (for bribery it is, in whatever guise it may appear) that upholds one of the most glaring, the most oppressive of all monopolies, in the face of common sense, common justice and common decency. other taxes are principally felt by the higher and middling classes; but this most odious, this most galling tax, is felt even in the cottage of the labourer, who cannot return to refresh himself after his day of toil with his favourite beverage without paying twice its value out of his hard-earned pittance, to swell the dividend of the company, and support these _pruriencies_ of noble blood. and yet, deprecating the evils arising from the system of entail, i must acknowledge that there are no other means by which (in a monarchical government) the desirable end of upholding rank is to be obtained. i remember once, when conversing with an american, i inquired after one or two of his countrymen, who but a few years before were of great wealth and influence. to one of my remarks he answered, "in our country all the wealth and power at the time attached to it does not prevent a name from sinking into insignificance, or from being forgotten soon after its possessor is dead, for we do not entail property. the distribution scatters the amassed heap, by which the world around him had been attracted; and although the distribution tends to the general fertilisation of the country, yet with the disappearance, the influence of the possessor and even his name are soon forgotten." these remarks, as will appear in the sequel, are apposite to the parties which i am about to introduce to the reader. as, however, they are people of some consequence, it may appear to be a want of due respect on my part, if i were to introduce them at the fag-end of a chapter. volume two, chapter eight. "'twas his the vast and trackless deep to rove, alternate change of climates has he known, and felt the fierce extremes of either zone, where polar skies congeal th' eternal snow, or equinoctial suns for ever glow; smote by the freezing or the scorching blast, a ship-boy on the high and giddy mast." falconer. the father of the present lord aveleyn had three sons, and, in conformity with the usages commented upon in the preceding chapter, the two youngest were condemned to the army and navy; the second, who had priority of choice, being dismissed to gather laurels in a red coat, while the third was recommended to do the same, if he could, in a suit of blue. fairly embarked in their several professions, a sum of fifty pounds per annum was placed in the hands of their respective agents, and no more was thought about a pair of "detrimentals." lord aveleyn's father, who had married late in life, was summoned away when the eldest brother of the present lord aveleyn, the heir, was yet a minor, about two years after he had embarked in the ship to which edward forster belonged. now it was the will of providence that, about six months after the old nobleman's decease, the young lord and his second brother, who had obtained a short furlough, should most unadvisedly embark in a small sailing boat on the lake close to the mansion, and that, owing to some mismanagement of the sail, the boat upset, and they were both drowned. as soon as the melancholy intelligence was made known to the trustees, a letter was despatched to captain l---, who commanded the ship in which young aveleyn was serving his time, acquainting him with the catastrophe, and requesting the immediate discharge of the young midshipman. the captain repaired on board; when he arrived on the quarter-deck, he desired the first-lieutenant to send down for young aveleyn. "he is at the mast-head, sir," replied the first-lieutenant, "for neglect of duty." "really, mr w---," replied the captain, who had witnessed the boy's _ascent_ at least a hundred times before with perfect indifference, and had often sent him up himself, "you appear to be very sharp upon that poor lad; you make no allowance for youth--boys will be boys." "he's the most troublesome young monkey in the ship sir," replied the first-lieutenant, surprised at this unusual interference. "he has always appeared to me to be a well-disposed, intelligent lad, mr w---; and i wish you to understand that i do not approve of this system of eternal mast-heading. however, he will not trouble you any more, as his discharge is to be immediately made out. he is now," continued the captain, pausing to give more effect to his communication, "lord aveleyn." "whew! now the murder's out," mentally exclaimed the first-lieutenant. "call him down immediately, mr w---, if you please--and recollect that i disapprove of the system." "certainly, sir; but really, captain l---, i don't know what i shall do if you restrict my power of punishing the young gentlemen; they are so extremely unruly. there's mr malcolm," continued the first-lieutenant, pointing to a youngster who was walking on the other side of the deck, with his hands in his pockets, "it was but yesterday that he chopped off at least four inches from the tail of your dog `ponto,' at the beef-block, and pretends it was an accident." "what! my setter's tail?" "yes, sir, he did, i can assure you." "mr malcolm," cried the captain, in great wrath, "how came you to cut off my dog's tail?" before i went to sea i had always considered a london cock-sparrow to be the truest emblem of consummate impudence; but i have since discovered that he is quite modest compared to a midshipman. "me, sir?" replied the youngster, demurely. "i didn't cut off his tail, sir; he _cut it off himself_!" "what, sir!" roared the captain. "if you please, sir, i was chopping a piece of beef, and the dog, who was standing by, turned short round, and put his tail under the chopper." "put his tail under the chopper, you little scamp!" replied captain l---, in a fury. "now just put your head above the maintop-gallant cross-trees, and stay there until you are called down. mr w---, you'll keep him up till sunset." "ay, ay, sir," replied the first-lieutenant, with a satisfactory smile at the description of punishment inflicted. when i was a midshipman, it was extremely difficult to avoid the mast-head. out of six years served in that capacity, i once made a calculation that two of them were passed away perched upon the cross-trees, looking down, with calm philosophy, upon the microcosm below. yet, although i _never_ deserved it, i derived much future advantage from my repeated punishments. the mast-head, for want of something _worse_ to do, became my study; and during the time spent there, i in a manner finished my education. volumes after volumes were perused to while away the tedious hours; and i conscientiously believe it is to this mode of punishment adopted by my rigid superiors that the world is indebted for all the pretty books which i am writing. i was generally exalted either for _thinking_ or _not thinking_; and as i am not aware of any medium between the active and passive state of our minds (except dreaming, which is still more unpardonable), the reader may suppose that there is no exaggeration in my previous calculation of one-third of my midshipman existence having been passed away upon "the high and giddy mast." "mr m---," would the first-lieutenant cry out, "why did you stay so long on shore with the jolly-boat?" "i went to the post-office for the officers' letters, sir." "and pray, sir, who ordered you?" "no one, sir; but i _thought_--" "you _thought_, sir! how dare _you think_?--go up to the mast-head, sir." so much for _thinking_. "mr m---," would he say at another time, when i came on board, "did you call at the admiral's office?" "no, sir; i had no orders. i didn't _think_--" "then why _didn't you think_, sir? up to the mast-head, and stay there till i call you down." so much for _not thinking_. like the fable of the wolf and the lamb, it was all the same; bleat as i pleased, my defence was useless, and i could not avert my barbarous doom. to proceed: captain l--- went over the side; the last pipe had been given, and the boatswain had returned his call into his jacket-pocket, and walked forward, when the first-lieutenant, in pursuance of his orders, looked up aloft, intending to have hailed the new lord, and have requested the pleasure of his company on deck; but the youngster, feeling a slight degree of appetite, after enjoying the fresh air for seven hours without any breakfast, had just ventured down the topmast rigging, that he might obtain possession of a bottle of tea and some biscuit, which one of his messmates had carried up for him, and stowed away in the bunt of the maintopsail. young aveleyn, who thought that the departure of the captain would occupy the attention of the first-lieutenant, had just descended to, and was placing his foot on, the topsail yard, when mr w--- looked up, and witnessed this act of disobedience. as this was a fresh offence committed, he thought himself warranted in not complying with the captain's mandate, and the boy was ordered up again, to remain till sunset. "i would have called him down," muttered mr w---, whose temper had been soured from long disappointment; "but since he's a lord, he shall have a good spell of it before he quits the service; and then we shall not have his recommendation to others in his own rank to come into it, and interfere with our promotion." now, it happened that mr w---, who had an eye like a hawk, when he cast his eyes aloft, observed that the bunt of the maintopsail was not exactly so well stowed as it ought to be on board of a man-of-war; which is not to be wondered at, when it is recollected that the midshipmen had been very busy enlarging it to make a pantry. he therefore turned the hands up, "mend sails," and took his station amidship on the booms, to see that this, the most delinquent sail, was properly furled. "trice up--lay out--all ready forward?"--"all ready, sir."--"all ready abaft?"--"all ready, sir."--"let fall."--down came the sails from the yards, and down also came the bottle of tea and biscuit upon the face of the first-lieutenant, who was looking up; the former knocking out three of his front teeth, besides splitting open both his lips and chin. young aveleyn, who witnessed the catastrophe, was delighted; the other midshipmen on deck crowded round their superior, to offer their condolements, winking and making faces at each other in by-play, until the first-lieutenant descended to his cabin, when they no longer restrained their mirth. about an hour afterwards, mr w--- reappeared, with his face bound up, and summoned all the young gentlemen on deck, insisting upon being informed who it was who had stowed away the bottle in the bunt of the sail; but midshipmen have most treacherous memories, and not one of them knew anything about it. as a last resource, young aveleyn was called down from the mast-head. "now, sir," said mr w---, "either inform me directly who it was who stowed away the bottle aloft, or i pledge you my word you shall be discharged from his majesty's service tomorrow morning. don't pretend to say that you don't know--for you must." "i do know," replied the youngster, boldly; "but i never will tell." "then either you or i shall leave the service. man the first cutter;" and when the boat was manned, the first-lieutenant sent some papers on shore, which he had been desired to do by the captain. when the boat returned, the clerk was sent for, and desired by mr w--- to make out mr aveleyn's discharge, as the officers and midshipmen thought (for mr w--- had kept his secret), for his disobedient conduct. the poor boy, who thought all his prospects blighted, was sent on shore, the tears running down his cheeks, as much from the applause and kind farewells of his shipmates, as from the idea of the degradation which he underwent. now, the real culprit was young malcolm, who, to oblige the captain, had taken his station at the foretop-gallant mast-head, because the dog "ponto" thought proper to cut off his own tail. the first-lieutenant, in his own woe, forgot that of others; and it was not until nine o'clock at night, that malcolm, who thought that he had stayed up quite long enough, ventured below, when he was informed of what had taken place. the youngster immediately penned a letter to the captain acknowledging that he was the offender, and requesting that mr aveleyn might not be discharged from the service; he also ventured to add a postscript, begging that the same lenity might be extended towards himself; which letter was sent on shore by the captain's gig, when it left the ship the next morning, and was received by captain l--- at the very same time that young aveleyn, who had not been sent on shore till late in the evening, called upon the captain to request a reprieve from his hard sentence. the boy sent up his name and was immediately admitted. "i presume you know why you are discharged from the service?" said captain l---, smiling benignantly. "yes, sir," replied the boy, holding his head down submissively, "because of that accident--i'm very sorry, sir." "of course you must, and ought to be. such heavy blows are not common, and hard to bear. i presume you go immediately to buckhurst?" "i suppose i must, sir; but i hope, captain l---, that you'll look over it." "i shall have very great pleasure in so doing," replied captain l---; "i hear that it is--" "thanky, sir, thanky," replied the youngster, interrupting the captain. "then i may go on board again and tell the first-lieutenant?" "tell the first-lieutenant what?" cried captain l---, perceiving some mistake. "why, has not mr w--- told you?" "yes, sir, he told me it was your orders that i should be dismissed his majesty's service." "discharged--not dismissed. and i presume he told you why: because your two elder brothers are dead, and you are now lord aveleyn." "no, sir!" cried the youngster with astonishment; "because his three front teeth are knocked out with a bottle of _scaldchops_ and i would not peach who stowed it away in the bunt of the sail." "this is excessively strange!" replied captain l---. "do me the favour to sit down, my lord; the letters from the ship will probably explain the affair." there was, however, no explanation, except from young malcolm. the captain read his letter, and put it into the hands of lord aveleyn, who entered into a detail of the whole. captain l--- produced the letter from the trustees, and, desiring his lordship to command him as to any funds he might require, requested the pleasure of his company to dinner. the boy, whose head wheeled with the sudden change in his prospects, was glad to retire, having first obtained permission to return on board with young malcolm's pardon, which had been most graciously acceded to. to the astonishment of everybody on board, young aveleyn came alongside in the captain's own gig, when the scene in the midshipmen's berth and the discomfiture of the first-lieutenant may be imagined. "you don't belong to the service, frank," said the old master's mate; "and, as peer of the realm, coming on board to visit the ship, you are entitled to a salute. send up and say you expect one, and then w--- must have the guard up, and pay you proper respect. i'll be hanged if i don't take the message, if you consent to it." but lord aveleyn had come on board to pay a debt of gratitude, not to inflict mortification. he soon quitted the ship, promising never to forget malcolm; and, unlike the promises of most great men, it was fulfilled, and malcolm rose to be a captain from his own merit, backed by the exertions of his youthful patron. for the next week the three mast-heads were so loaded with midshipmen, that the boatswain proposed a preventer backstay, that the top-masts might not go over the side; but shortly after, captain l---, who was not pleased at the falsehood which mr w--- had circulated, and who had many other reasons for parting with him, succeeded in having him appointed to another ship; after which the midshipmen walked up and down the quarter-deck with their hands in their pockets, as before. volume two, chapter nine. but adeline determined juan's wedding in her own mind, and that's enough for woman; but then with whom? there was the sage miss redding, miss raw, miss flaw, miss showman, and miss knowman, and the two fair co-heiresses giltbedding. she deem'd his merits something more than common. all these were unobjectionable matches, and might go on, if well wound up, like watches. byron. the young lord aveleyn returned to the hall of his ancestors, exchanging the gloomy cockpit for the gay saloon, the ship's allowance for sumptuous fare, the tyranny of his mess-mates and the harshness of his superiors for adulation and respect. was he happier? no. in this world, whether in boyhood or riper years, the happiest state of existence is when under control. although contrary to received opinion, this is a fact; but i cannot now stop to demonstrate the truth of the assertion. life may be compared to a gamut of music: there are seven notes from our birth to our marriage, and thus may we run up the first octave; milk, sugar-plums, apples, cricket, cravat, gun, horse; then comes the wife, a _da capo_ to a new existence, which is to continue until the whole diapason is gone through. lord aveleyn ran up his scale like others before him. "why do you not marry, my dear frank?" said the dowager lady aveleyn, one day, when a thick fog debarred her son of his usual pastime. "why, mother, i have no objection to marry, and i suppose i must one of these days, as a matter of duty; but i really am very difficult, and if i were to make a bad choice, you know a wife is not like this gun, which will go _off_ when i please." "but still my dear frank, there are many very eligible matches to be made just now." "i do not doubt it, madam; but pray who are they?" "why, miss riddlesworth." "a very pretty girl, and i am told a large fortune. but let me hear the others first." "clara beauchamp, well connected, and a very sweet girl." "granted also, for any thing i know to the contrary. have you more on your list?" "certainly. emily riddlesdale; not much fortune, but very highly connected indeed. her brother, lord riddlesdale is a man of great influence." "her want of money is no object, my dear mother, and the influence of her brother no inducement. i covet neither. i grant you that she is a very nice girl. proceed." "why, frank, one would think that you were a sultan with his handkerchief. there is lady selina armstrong." "well, she is a very fine girl, and talks well." "there is harriet butler, who has just come out." "i saw her at the last ball we were at--a very pretty creature." "lady jemima calthorpe." "not very good-looking, but clever and agreeable." "there is louisa manners, who is very much admired." "i admire her very much myself." "well, frank, you have exhausted my catalogue. there is not one i have mentioned who is not unexceptionable, and whom i would gladly embrace as a daughter-in-law. you are now turned of forty, my dear son, and must make up your mind to have heirs to the title and estates. i am however afraid that your admiration is so general, that you will be puzzled in your choice." "i will confess to you, my dearest mother, that i have many years thought of the necessity of taking to myself a wife, but have never yet had courage to decide. i admit that if all the young women you have mentioned were what they appear to be, a man need not long hesitate in his choice; but the great difficulty is, that their real tempers and dispositions are not to be ascertained till it is too late. allow that i should attempt to discover the peculiar disposition of every one of them, what would be the consequence?--that my attentions would be perceived. i do not exactly mean to accuse them of deceit; but a woman is naturally flattered by perceiving herself an object of attraction; and, when flattered, is pleased. it is not likely, therefore, that the infirmities of her temper (if she have any) should be discovered by a man whose presence is a source of gratification. if artful, she will conceal her faults; if not so there will be no occasion to bring them to light. and even if, after a long courtship, something wrong should be discovered, either you have proceeded too far in honour to retract, or are so blinded by your own feelings as to extenuate it. now it is only the parents and near relations of a young woman who can be witnesses to her real character, unless it be indeed her own maid, whom one could not condescend to interrogate." "that is all very true, frank; but recollect the same observations apply to your sex as well as ours. lovers and husbands are very different beings. it is quite a lottery on both sides." "i agree with you, my dear mother; and as marry i must, so shall it be a lottery with me; i will leave it to chance, and not to myself: then, if i am unfortunate, i will blame my stars and not have to accuse myself of a want of proper discrimination." lord aveleyn took up a sheet of paper, and dividing it into small slips, wrote upon them the names of the different young ladies proposed by his mother. folding them up, he threw them on the table before her, and requested that she would select any one of the papers. the dowager took up one. "i thank you, madam," said lord aveleyn, taking the paper from her hand, and opening it--"`louisa manners.' well, then, louisa manners it shall be; always provided that she does not refuse me. i will make my first advances this very afternoon; that is, if it does not clear up, and i can take out the pointers." "you surely are joking, frank?" "never was more serious. i have my mother's recommendation, backed by fate. marry i must, but choose i will not. i feel myself desperately in love with the fair louisa already. i will report my progress to you, my dear madam, in less than a fortnight." lord aveleyn adhered to his singular resolution, courted, and was accepted. he never had reason to repent his choice; who proved to be as amiable as her countenance would have indicated. the fruits of his marriage was one son, who was watched over with mingled pride and anxiety, and who had now arrived at the age of fifteen years. such was the history of lord aveleyn, who continued to extend his friendship to edward forster, and if he had required it, would gladly have proffered his assistance, in return for the kindness which forster had shown towards him when he was a midshipman. the circumstances connected with the history of the little amber were known to lord aveleyn and his lady, and the wish of forster, that his little charge should derive the advantage of mixing in good female society, was gladly acceded to, both on his account and on her own. amber would often remain for days at the mansion, and was a general favourite, as well as an object of sympathy. but the growth of their son, too rapid for his years, and which brought with it symptoms of pulmonary disease, alarmed lord and lady aveleyn; and by the advice of the physicians, they broke up their establishment, and hastened with him to madeira, to re-establish his health. their departure was deeply felt both by forster and his charge; and before they could recover from the loss; another severe trial awaited them in the death of mrs beazeley, who, full of years and rheumatism, was gathered to her fathers. forster, habituated as he was to the old lady, felt her loss severely; he was now with amber, quite alone; and it so happened that in the following winter his wound broke out, and confined him to his bed until the spring. as he lay in a precarious state, the thought naturally occurred to him, "what will become of this poor child if i am called away? there is not the slightest provision for her: she has no friends; and i have not even made it known to any of my own that there is such a person in existence." edward forster thought of his brother, the lawyer, whom he knew still to be flourishing, although he had never corresponded with him, and resolved that as soon as he was able to undertake the journey, he would go to town, and secure his interest for the little amber, in case of any accident happening to himself. the spring and summer passed away before he found himself strong enough to undertake the journey. it was late in the autumn that edward forster and amber took their places in a heavy coach for the metropolis, and arrived without accident on the day or two subsequent to that on which nicholas and newton had entered it on foot. newton forster--captain marryat volume two, chapter ten. through coaches, drays, choked turnpikes, and a whirl of wheels, and roar of voices, and confusion, here taverns wooing to a pint of "purl," there mails fast flying off; like a delusion. through this, and much and more, is the approach of travellers to mighty babylon; whether they come by horse, or chair, or coach, with slight exceptions, all the ways seem one. byron. when newton forster and his father arrived at london, they put up at an obscure inn in the borough. the next day newton set off to discover the residence of his uncle. the people of the inn had recommended him to apply to some stationer or bookseller, who would allow him to look over a red-book; and in compliance with these instructions, newton stopped at a shop in fleet-street, on the doors of which was written in large gilt letters--"law bookseller." the young men in the shop were very civil and obliging, and, without referring to the guide, immediately told him the residence of a man so well known as his uncle; and newton hastened in the direction pointed out. it was one of those melancholy days in which london wears the appearance of a huge scavenger's cart. a lurid fog and mizzling rain, which had been incessant for the previous twenty-four hours; sloppy pavements, and kennels down which the muddy torrents hastened to precipitate themselves in the sewers below; armies of umbrellas, as far as the eye could reach, now rising, now lowering, to avoid collision; hackney-coaches in active sloth, their miserable cattle plodding along with their backs arched and heads and tails drooping like barn-door fowls crouching under the cataract of a gutter; clacking of pattens and pestering of sweepers; not a smile upon the countenance of one individual of the multitude which passed him;--all appeared anxiety, bustle, and selfishness. newton was not sorry when he turned down the narrow court which had been indicated to him, and, disengaged from the throng of men, commenced a more rapid course. in two minutes he was at the door of his uncle's chambers, which, notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, stood wide open, as if there should be no obstacle in a man's way, or a single moment for reflection allowed him, if he wished to entangle himself in the expenses and difficulties of the law. newton furled his weeping umbrella, and first looking with astonishment at the mud which had accumulated above the calves of his legs, raised his eyes to the jambs on each side, where in large letters, he read at the head of a long list of occupants, "mr forster, ground floor." a door with mr forster's name on it, within a few feet of him, next caught his eye. he knocked, and was admitted by the clerk, who stated that his master was at a consultation, but was expected back in half an hour, if he could wait so long. newton assented, and was ushered into the parlour, where the clerk presented the newspaper of the day to amuse him until the arrival of his uncle. as soon as the door was closed newton's curiosity as to the character of his uncle induced him to scrutinise the apartment and its contents. in the centre of the room, which might have been about fourteen feet square, stood a table, with a shadow lamp placed before the only part of it which was left vacant for the use of the pen. the remainder of the space was loaded with parchment upon parchment, deed upon deed, paper upon paper. some, especially those underneath, had become dark and discoloured by time; the ink had changed to a dull red, and the imprint of many a thumb inferred how many years they had been in existence, and how long they had lain as sad mementos of the law's delay. others were fresh and clean, the japanned ink in strong contrast with the glossy parchment, new cases of litigation fresh as the hopes of those who had been persuaded by flattering assurances to enter into a labyrinth of vexation, from which, perhaps, not to be extricated until these documents should assume the hue of the others, which silently indicated the blighted hopes of protracted litigation. two massive iron chests occupied the walls on each side of the fireplace; and round the whole area of the room were piled one upon another large tin boxes, on which, in legible roman characters, were written the names of the parties whose property was thus immured. there they stood like so many sepulchres of happiness, mausoleums raised over departed competence, while the names of the parties inscribed appeared as so many registers of the folly and contention of man. but from all this newton could draw no other conclusion than that his uncle had plenty of business. the fire in the grate was on so small a scale, that although he shivered with wet and cold, newton was afraid to stir it, lest it should go out altogether. from this circumstance he drew a hasty and unsatisfactory conclusion that his uncle was not very partial to spending his money. but he hardly had time to draw these inferences and then take up the newspaper, when the door opened, and another party was ushered into the room by the clerk, who informed him, as he handed a chair, that mr forster would return in a few minutes. the personage thus introduced was a short young man, with a round face, bushy eyebrows, and dogged countenance, implying wilfulness, without ill-nature. as soon as he entered he proceeded to divest his throat of a large shawl, which he hung over the back of a chair; then doffing his great-coat, which was placed in a similar position, he rubbed his hands, and walked up to the fire, into which he insinuated the poker, and immediately destroyed the small symptoms of combustion which remained, reducing the whole to one chaos of smoke. "better have left it alone, i believe," observed he, re-inserting the poker, and again stirring up the black mass, for the fire was now virtually defunct. "you're not cold, i hope, sir?" said the party, turning to newton. "no, sir, not very," replied newton, good-humouredly. "i thought so; clients never are; nothing like law for _keeping you warm_, sir. always bring on your cause in the winter months. i do, if i can, for it's positive suffocation in the dog-days!" "i really never was _at law_," replied newton, laughing; "but if ever i have the misfortune, i shall recollect your advice." "never was at law! i was going to say, what the devil brings you here? but that would have been an impertinent question.--well, sir, do you know there was a time at which i never knew what law was," continued the young man, seating himself in a chair opposite to newton. "it was many years ago, when i was a younger brother and had no property: no one took the trouble to go to law with me; for if they gained their cause there were no effects. within the last six years i have inherited a considerable property, and am always in hot water. i heard that the lawyers say, `causes produce effects.' i am sure i can say that `effects have produced causes!'" "i am sorry that your good fortune should be coupled with such a drawback." "oh, it's nothing! it's just to a man what a clog is to a horse in a field, you know pretty well where to find him. i'm so used to it-- indeed so much so, that i should feel rather uncomfortable if i had nothing on my hands: just keeps me from being idle. i've been into every court in the metropolis, and have no fault to find with one of them, except the court of rights." "and pray, sir, what is that court, and the objection you have to it?" "why, as to the court, it's the most confounded rascal; but i must be careful how i speak before strangers, you'll excuse me, sir (not that i suspect you, but i know what may be considered as a libel). i shall therefore just state, that it is a court at which no gentleman can appear; and if he does, it's of no use, for he'll never get a verdict in his favour." "what, then it is not a court of justice?" "court of justice! no, it's a court for the recovery of small debts: but i'll just tell you, sir, exactly what took place with me in that court, and then you will be able to judge for yourself. i had a dog; sir, it was just after i came into my property; his name was caesar, and a very good dog he was. well, sir, riding out one day about four miles from town, a rabbit put his nose out of a cellar, where they retailed potatoes. caesar pounced upon him, and the rabbit was dead in a moment. the man who owned the rabbit and the potatoes, came up to me and asked my name, which i told him; at the same time, i expressed my sorrow at the accident, and advised him in future to keep his rabbits in hutches. he said he would, and demanded three shillings and sixpence for the one which the dog had killed. now, although he was welcome to advice, money was quite another thing; so he went one way, muttering something about law, and i another, with caesar at my heels, taking no notice of his threat. well, sir, in a few days my servant came up to say that somebody wished to see me upon _particular_ business, and i ordered him to be shown up. it was a blackguard-looking fellow, who put a piece of dirty paper in my hand; summoned me to appear at some dog-hole or another, i forget where. not understanding the business, i enclosed it to a legal friend, who returned an answer, that it was a summons to the court of rights; that no gentleman could go there; and that i had better let the thing take its course. i had forgotten all about it, when, in a few days, a piece of paper was brought to me, by which i found that the court adjudged me to pay pound, shillings, pence, for damages and costs. i asked who brought it, and was told it was the son of the potato-merchant, accompanied by a tipstaff. i requested the pleasure of their company, and asked the legal gentleman what it was for. "`eighteen shillings, for ten rabbits destroyed by your dog, and shillings, pence, for costs of court.' "`ten rabbits!' exclaimed i; `why he only killed one.' "`yes, sir,' squeaked out the young potato-merchant; `but it was a doe rabbit, in the family way; we counted nine young ones, all killed too!' "`shameful!' replied i. `pray, sir, did your father tell the court that the rabbits were not born?' "`no, sir; father only said that there was one doe rabbit and nine little ones killed. he asked shillings, pence, for the old one, but only shilling, pence a-piece for the young ones.' "`you should have been there yourself, sir,' observed the tipstaff. "`i wish caesar had left the rabbit alone. so it appears,' replied i, `he only asked shillings, pence, at first; but by this _caesarean operation_, i am nineteen shillings out of pocket.'--now, sir, what do you think of that?" "i think that you should exclaim against the dishonesty of the potato-merchant, rather than the judgment of the court. had you defended your own cause, you might have had justice." "i don't know that. a man makes a claim against another, and takes his oath to it; you must then either disprove it, or pay the sum; your own oath is of no avail against his. i called upon my legal friend, and told him how i had been treated, and he then narrated the following circumstance, which will explain what i mean:-- "he told me that he never knew of but one instance in which a respectable person had gained his cause, and in which, he was ashamed to say, that he was a party implicated. the means resorted to were as follows:--a jew upholsterer sent in a bill to a relation of his for a chest of drawers, which had never been purchased or received. refusing to pay, he was summoned to the court of rights. not knowing how to act, he applied to my informant, who, being under some obligations to his relative, did not like to refuse. "`i am afraid that you'll have to pay,' said the attorney to his relation, when he heard the story. "`but i never had them, i can swear to it.' "`that's of no consequence; he will bring men to swear to the delivery. there are hundreds about the court who are ready to take any oath, at half-a-crown a head; and that will be sufficient. but, to oblige you, i'll see what i can do.' "they parted, and in a day or two my legal acquaintance called upon his relation, and told him that he had gained his cause. `rather at the expense of my conscience, i must acknowledge,' continued he; `but one must fight these scoundrels with their own weapons.' "`well, and how was it?' inquired the other. "`why, as i prophesied, he brought three men forward, who swore to the delivery of the goods. aware that this would be the case, i had provided three others, who swore to their having been witness to the _payment of the bill_! this he was not prepared for; and the verdict was given in your favour.'" "is it possible," exclaimed newton, "that such a court of belial can exist in england?" "even so; and, as there is no appeal, pray keep out of it. for my--" but here the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of mr john forster, who had returned from his consultation. we have already described mr john forster's character; we have now only to introduce his person. mr john forster was about the middle height, rather inclined to corpulency, but with great show of muscular strength. his black nether garments and silk stockings, fitted a leg which might have been envied by a porter, and his breadth of shoulder was extreme. he had a slouch, probably contracted by long pouring over the desk; and his address was as abrupt as his appearance was unpolished. his forehead was large and bald, eye small and brilliant, and his cheeks had dropped down so as to increase the width of his lower jaw. deep, yet not harsh, lines were imprinted on the whole of his countenance, which indicated inflexibility and self-possession. "good morning, gentlemen," said he, as he entered the room; "i hope you have not been waiting long. may i request the pleasure of knowing who came first? `first come, first served,' is an old motto." "i _believe_ this gentleman came first," replied the young man. "don't you _know_, sir? is it only a _believe_?" "i did arrive first, sir," replied newton; "but as i am not here upon legal business, i had rather wait until this gentleman has spoken to you." "not upon legal business--humph!" replied mr forster, eyeing newton. "well, then, if that is the case, do me the favour to sit down in the office until i have communicated with this gentleman." newton, taking up his hat, walked out of the door, which was opened by mr forster, and sat down in the next room until he should be summoned. although the door between them was closed, it was easy to hear the sound of the voices within. for some minutes they fell upon newton's ears; that of the young man like the loud yelping of a cur; that of his uncle like the surly growl of some ferocious beast. at last the door opened:-- "but, sir," cried the young man, _in alto_. "_pay_, sir, _pay_! i tell you _pay_!" answered the lawyer, in a stentorian voice. "but he has cheated me, sir!" "never mind--pay!" "charged twice their value, sir!" "i tell you, pay!" "but, sir, such imposition!" "i have told you twenty times, sir, and now tell you again--and for the last time--_pay_!" "won't you take up my cause, sir, then?" "no, sir! i have given you advice, and will not pick your pocket!--good morning, sir;" and mr forster, who had backed his client out of the room, shut the door in his face, to prevent further discussion. the young man looked a moment at the door after it was closed, and then turned round to newton. "if yours is really law business, take my advice, don't stay to see him; i'll take you to a man who _is_ a lawyer. here you'll get no law at all." "thank-ye," replied newton, laughing, "but mine really is not law business." the noise of the handle of the door indicated that mr forster was about to reopen it, to summon newton; and the young man, with a hasty good morning, brushed by newton, and hastened into the street. volume two, chapter eleven. _hamlet_. is not parchment made of sheepskin? _horatio_. ay, my lord, and of calves' skins too. _hamlet_. they are sheep and calves which seek out their assurance in that-- shakespeare. the door opened, as intimated at the end of our last chapter, and newton obeyed the injunction from the lawyer's eye to follow him into the room. "now, sir, your pleasure?" said mr forster. "i must introduce myself," replied newton: "i am your nephew, newton forster." "humph! where's your documents in proof of your assertion?" "i did not consider that any thing further than my word was necessary. i am the son of your brother, nicholas forster, who resided many years at overton." "i never heard of overton: nicholas i recollect to have been the name of my third brother; but it is upwards of thirty years since i have seen or heard of him. i did not know whether he was alive or dead. well, for the sake of argument, we'll allow that you are my nephew--what then?" newton coloured up at this peculiar reception. "what then, uncle?--why i did hope that you would have been glad to have seen me; but as you appear to be otherwise, i will wish you good morning;"--and newton moved towards the door. "stop, young man; i presume that you did not come for nothing? before you go, tell me what you came for." "to tell you the truth," replied newton, with emotion, "it was to ask your assistance and your advice; but--" "but jumping up in a huff is not the way to obtain either. sit down on that chair, and tell me what you came for." "to request you would interest yourself in behalf of my father and myself; we are both out of employ, and require your assistance." "or probably i never should have seen you!" "most probably: we knew that you were in good circumstances, and thriving in the world; and as long as we could support ourselves honestly, should not have thrust ourselves upon you. all we wish now is that you will, by your interest and recommendation, put us in the way of being again independent by our own exertions; which we did not consider too much to ask from a brother, and an uncle." "humph!--so first you keep aloof from me, because you knew that i was able to assist you, and now you come to me for the same reason!" "had we received the least intimation from you that our presence would have been welcome, you would have seen us before." "perhaps so; but i did not know whether i had any relations alive." "had i been in your circumstances, uncle, i should have inquired." "humph!--well, young man, as i find that i have relations, i should like to hear a little about them;--so now tell me all about your father and yourself." newton entered into a detail of the circumstances, with which the reader is already acquainted. when he had finished, his uncle, who had listened with profound attention, his eye fixed upon that of newton, as if to read his inmost thoughts, said, "it appears, then, that your father wishes to prosecute his business as optician. i am afraid that i cannot help him. i wear spectacles certainly when i read; but this pair has lasted me eleven years, and probably will as many more. you wish me to procure you a situation in an east indiaman as third or fourth mate. i know nothing about the sea; i never saw it in my life; nor am i aware that i have a sailor in my acquaintance." "then, uncle, i will take my leave." "not so fast, young man; you said that you wanted my _assistance_ and my _advice_. my assistance i cannot promise you for the reasons i have stated; but my advice is at your service. is it a legal point?" "not exactly, sir," replied newton, who was mortified almost to tears; "still i must acknowledge that i now more than ever wish that the articles were in safe keeping, and out of my hands." newton then entered into a detail of the trunk being picked up at sea; and stated his having brought with him the most valuable of the property, that it might be deposited in safe bands. "humph!" observed his uncle, when he had finished. "you say that the articles are of value." "those who are judges consider the diamonds and the other articles to be worth nearly one hundred pounds; i cannot pretend to say what their real value is." "and you have had these things in your possession these seven years?" "i have, sir." "did it never occur to you, since you have been in distress, that the sale of these articles would have assisted you?" "it often has occurred to me, when i have found that the little i could earn was not sufficient for my father's support; but we had already decided that the property was not _legally mine_, and i dismissed the idea as soon as i could from my thoughts. since then i have ascertained to whom the property belongs, and of course it has become more sacred." "you said a minute ago that you now more than ever wished the property in safe keeping. why so?" "because, disappointed in the hopes i had entertained of receiving your assistance, i foresaw that we should have more difficulties than ever to struggle against, and wished not to be in the way of temptation." "you were right. well, then bring me those articles to-morrow, by one o'clock precisely; i will take charge of them, and give you a receipt. good morning, nephew; very happy to have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. remember me kindly to my brother, and tell him i shall be happy to see him at one, precisely." "good morning, sir," replied newton, with a faltering voice, as he hurried away to conceal his disappointment and indignation, which he felt at this cool reception and dismissal. "not _legally_ mine--humph! i like that boy," muttered the old lawyer to himself, when newton had disappeared.--"scratton!" "yes, sir," replied the clerk, opening the door. "fill up a check for five hundred pounds, self or bearer, and bring it to me to sign." "yes, sir." "is it this evening or to-morrow, that i attend the arbitration meeting?" "this evening, seven o'clock." "what is the name of the party by whom i am employed?" "bosanquet, sir." "east india director, is he not?" "yes, sir." "humph!--that will do." the clerk brought in the draft, which was put into his pocket-book without being signed; his coat was then buttoned up, and mr john forster repaired to the chop-house, at which for twenty-five years he had seldom failed to make his appearance at the hour of three or four at the latest. it was with a heavy heart that newton returned to the inn in the borough, at which he left his father, whom he found looking out of window, precisely in the same seat and position where he had left him. "well, newton, my boy, did you see my brother?" "yes, sir; but i am sorry to say that i have little hopes of his being of service to us." newton then entered into a narration of what had passed. "why really, newton," said his father in his single-heartedness, "i do not see such cause of despair. if he did doubt your being his nephew, how could he tell that you were? and if he had no interest with naval people why it's not his fault. as for my expecting him to break his spectacles on purpose to buy new ones of me, that's too much, and it would be foolish on his part. he said that he was very happy to have made your acquaintance, and that he should be glad to see me. i really don't know what more you could expect. i will call upon him to-morrow, since he wishes it. at five o'clock precisely, don't you say?" "no, sir, at one." "well, then, at one; those who have nothing to do must suit their hours to those who are full of business. recollect now, two o'clock precisely." "one o'clock, sir." "ay, very true, one o'clock i meant; now let's go to dinner." nicholas forster appeared in excellent spirits: and newton, who did not like to undeceive him, was glad to retire at an early hour, that he might be left to his own reflections, and form some plan as to their proceedings in consequence of this unexpected disappointment. volume two, chapter twelve. "now, by two-headed janus, nature hath framed strange fellows in her time; some that will ever more peep through their eyes, and laugh like parrots at a bagpiper; and others of such vinegar aspect, that they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, though nestor swear the jest be laughable." shakespeare. the next forenoon nicholas and his son left the inn in good time to keep their appointment. the weather had changed, and the streets through which they passed were crowded with people who had taken advantage of the fine weather to prosecute business which had admitted of being postponed. nicholas, who stared every way except the right, received many shoves and pushes, at which he expostulated, without the parties taking even the trouble to look behind them as they continued their course. this conduct produced a fit of reverie, out of which he was soon roused by another blow on the shoulder, which would twist him half round; and thus he continued in an alternate state of reverie and excitement, until he was dragged by newton to his brother's chambers. the clerk, who had been ordered to admit them, opened the parlour-door, where they found mr john forster, sitting at his table, with his spectacles on, running through brief. "your servant, young man.--nicholas forster, i presume," said he, taking his eyes off the brief, and looking at forster without rising from his chair--"how do ye do, brother?" "are you my brother john?" interrogated nicholas. "i am john forster," replied the lawyer. "well, then, i am really very glad to see you, brother," said nicholas, extending his hand, which was taken with a `humph!'--(a minute's pause.) "young man, you're ten minutes fast your time," said john, turning to newton. "i told you _one o'clock precisely_." "i am afraid so," replied newton; "but the streets were crowded, and my father stopped several times." "why did he stop?" "to expostulate with those who elbowed him: he is not used to it." "he soon will be, if he stays here long.--brother nicholas," said forster, turning round, but perceiving that nicholas had taken up his watch, and was examining the interior, his intended remark was changed. "brother nicholas, what are you doing with my watch?" "it's very dirty," replied nicholas, continuing his examination; "it must be taken to pieces." "indeed it shall not," replied john. "don't be alarmed, i'll do it myself, and charge you nothing." "indeed you will not do it yourself, brother. my watch goes very well, when it's left alone.--do me the favour to hand it to me." nicholas shut up the watch, and handed it to his brother over the table. "it ought not to go well in that state, brother." "but i tell you that _it does_, brother," replied john, putting the watch into his fob. "i have brought the things that i mentioned, sir," said newton, taking them out of his handkerchief. "very well, have you the inventory?" "yes, sir, here it is." "number . a diamond ring." "number . ---." "i should rather think that they were number ," observed nicholas, who had taken up his brother's spectacles. "you're not very short-sighted, brother." "i am not, brother nicholas;--will you oblige me by giving me my spectacles?" "yes, i'll wipe them for you first," said nicholas, commencing his polish with an old cotton handkerchief. "thanky, thanky, brother, that will do," replied john, holding out his hand for the spectacles, which he immediately put in the case and conveyed into his pocket. the lawyer then continued the inventory. "it is all right, young man; and i will sign a receipt." the receipt was signed, and the articles deposited in the iron chest. "now, brother nicholas, i have no time to spare; have you any thing to say to me?" "no," replied nicholas, starting up. "well, then, i have something to say to you. in the first place, i cannot help you in your profession (as i told my nephew yesterday). neither can i afford you any time, which is precious; so good bye, brother. here is something for you to read, when you go home." john forster took out his pocket-book, and gave him a sealed letter. "nephew, although i never saw the sea, or knew a sailor in my life, yet the law pervades every where. an east india director, who is under obligations to me, has promised a situation for you as third-mate on board of the bombay castle. here is his address; call upon him, and all will be arranged. _you_ may come here again before you sail; and i expect you will make proper arrangements for your father, who, if i can judge from what i have already seen, will lose that paper i have given him, which contains what is not to be picked up every day." nicholas was in a deep reverie; the letter had dropped from his hand, and had fallen, unnoticed by him, on the carpet. newton picked it up, and, without nicholas observing him, put it into his own pocket. "now, good bye, nephew; take away my brother, pray. it's a good thing, i can tell you, sometimes to find out an uncle." "i trust my conduct will prove me deserving of your kindness," replied newton, who was overjoyed at the unexpected issue of the meeting. "i hope it will, young man. good morning. now, take away your father, i'm busy;" and old forster pulled out his spectacles, and recommenced his brief. newton went up to his father, touched him on the shoulder, and said in a low tone, and nodding his head towards the door--"come, father." nicholas got upon his legs, retreated a few steps, then turned round--"brother, didn't you say something about a letter i was to put in the post?" "no, i didn't," replied john, shortly, not raising his eyes from the brief. "well, i really thought i heard something--" "come, father; my uncle's busy." "well, then, good bye, brother." "good bye," replied john, without looking up; and newton, with his father, quitted the room. no conversation passed during the walk to the inn, except an accidental remark of nicholas, that it appeared to him that his brother was very busy. when they arrived, newton hastened to open the enclosure, and found it to be a draft for pounds, which his uncle had ordered to be filled up the day before. nicholas was lost in astonishment; and newton, although he had already gained some insight into his uncle's character, was not a little surprised at his extreme liberality. "now," cried nicholas, rubbing his hands, "my improvement upon the duplex;" and the subject brought up by himself, again led him away, and he was in deep thought. there was a little piece of advice upon the envelope--"when you cash the draft take the number of your notes." this was all; and it was carefully attended to by newton, who took but pounds, and left the remainder in the hands of the banker. the next day newton called upon the east india director, who gave him a letter to the captain of the ship, lying at gravesend, and expecting to sail in a few days. to gravesend he immediately repaired, and, presenting his credentials, was favourably received; with an intimation that his company was required as soon as convenient. newton had now no other object to occupy him than to secure an asylum for his father; and this he was fortunate enough to meet with when he little expected. he had disembarked at greenwich, intending to return to london by the coach, when having an hour to spare, he sauntered into the hospital, to view a building which had so much of interest to a sailor. after a few minutes' survey, he sat down on a bench, occupied by several pensioners, outside of the gate, wishing to enter into conversation with them relative to their condition, when one addressed the other--"why, stephen, since the old man's dead, there's no one that'll suit us; and i expects that we must contrive to do without blinkers at all. jim nelson told me the other day, that the fellow in town as has his shop full of polished brass, all the world like the quarter-deck of the le amphitrite, when that sucking honourable (what was his name?) commanded her--jim said to me, as how he charged him one-and-sixpence for a new piece of flint for his starboard eye. now you know that old wilkins never axed no more than threepence. now, how we're to pay at that rate, comes to more than my knowledge. jim hadn't the dirt, although he had brought his threepence; so his blinkers are left there in limbo." "we must find out another man: the shop's to let, and all handy. suppose we speak to the governor?" "no use to speak to the governor; he don't use blinkers; and so won't have no fellow feeling." newton entered into conversation, and found that an old man, who gained his livelihood in a small shop close to the gate, by repairing the spectacles of the pensioners, had lately died, and that his loss was severely felt by them, as the opticians in town did not work at so reasonable a rate. newton looked at the shop, which was small and comfortable, commanding a pleasant view of the river, and he was immediately convinced that it would suit his father. on his return, he proposed it to nicholas, who was delighted at the idea; and the next day they viewed the premises together, and took a short lease. in a few days nicholas was settled in his new habitation, and busily employed in enabling the old pensioners to read the newspapers and count their points at cribbage. he liked his customers, and they liked him. his gains were equal to his wants; and, unless on particular occasions--such as a new coat, which, like his birth-day, occurred but once a year,--he never applied to the banker's for assistance. newton, as soon as his father was settled and his own affairs arranged, called upon his uncle previous to his embarkation. old forster gave a satisfactory "humph!" to his communication: and newton, who had tact enough to make his visit short, received a cordial shake of the hand when he quitted the room. volume two, chapter thirteen. poor short-lived things! what plane we lay! ah! why forsake our native home, to distant climates speed away. for self sticks close, where'er we roam. care follows hard, and soon o'ertakes the well-rigg'd ship; the warlike steed her destin'd quarry ne'er forsakes: nor the wind flees with half the speed. cowper. newton, who had made every preparation, as soon as he had taken leave of his uncle, hastened to join his ship, which still remained at gravesend, waiting for the despatches to be closed by the twenty-four leaden heads, presiding at leadenhall street. the passengers, with the exception of two, a scotch presbyterian divine and his wife, were still on shore, divided amongst the inns of the town, unwilling until the last moment to quit terra firma for so many months of sky and water, daily receiving a visit from the captain of the ship, who paid his respects to them all round, imparting any little intelligence he might have received as to the probable time of his departure. when newton arrived on board, he was received by the first-mate, a rough, good-humoured, and intelligent man, about forty years of age, to whom he had already been introduced by the captain, on his previous appearance with the letter from the director. "well, mr forster, you're in very good time. as in all probability we shall be shipmates for a voyage or two, i trust that we shall be good friends. now for your _traps_:" then turning round, he addressed, in the hindostanee language, two or three lascars (fine olive-coloured men, with black curling bushy hair), who immediately proceeded to hoist in the luggage. the first-mate, with an "excuse me a moment" went forward to give some directions to the english seamen, leaving forster to look about him. what he observed, we shall describe for the benefit of our readers. the indiaman was a twelve hundred ton ship, as large as one of the small class seventy-four in the king's service, strongly built, with lofty bulwarks, and pierced on the upper deck for eighteen guns, which were mounted on the quarter-deck and forecastle. abaft, a poop, higher than the bulwarks, extended forward, between thirty and forty feet, under which was the cuddy or dining-room, and state-cabins, appropriated to passengers. the poop, upon which you ascended by ladders on each side, was crowded with long ranges of coops, tenanted by every variety of domestic fowl, awaiting in happy unconsciousness the day when they should be required to supply the luxurious table provided by the captain. in some, turkeys stretched forth their long necks, and tapped the decks as they picked up some ant who crossed it, in his industry. in others, the crowing of cocks and calling of the hens were incessant: or the geese, ranged up rank and file, waited but the signal from one of the party to raise up a simultaneous clamour, which as suddenly was remitted. coop answered coop, in variety of discord, while the poulterer walked round and round to supply the wants of so many hundreds committed to his charge. the booms before the main-mast were occupied by the large boats, which had been hoisted in preparatory to the voyage. they also composed a portion of the farm yard. the launch contained about fifty sheep, wedged together so close that it was with difficulty they could find room to twist their jaws round, as they chewed the cud. the stern-sheets of the barge and yawl were filled with goats and two calves, who were the first destined victims to the butcher's knife; while the remainder of their space was occupied by hay and other provender, pressed down by powerful machinery into the smallest compass. the occasional baa-ing and bleating on the booms were answered by the lowing of three milch-cows between the hatchways of the deck below; where also were to be descried a few more coops, containing fowls and rabbits. the manger forward had been dedicated to the pigs; but, as the cables were not yet unbent or bucklers shipped, they at present were confined by gratings between the main-deck guns, where they grunted at each passer-by, as if to ask for food. the boats hoisted up on the quarters and the guys of the davits, to which they were suspended, formed the kitchen gardens, from which the passengers were to be supplied, and were loaded with bags containing onions, potatoes, turnips, carrots, beets, and cabbages, the latter in their full round proportions, hanging in a row upon the guys, like strings of heads, which had been demanded in the wrath or the caprice of some despot of mahomed's creed. forster descended the ladder to the main-deck which he found equally encumbered with cabins for the passengers, trunks and bedding belonging to them, and many other articles which had not yet found their way into the hold, the hatches of which were open, and in which lanterns in every direction partially dispelled the gloom, and offered to his view a confused outline of bales and packages. carpenters sawing deals, sail-makers roping the foot of an old mainsail, servants passing to and fro with dishes, lascars jabbering in their own language, british seamen damning their eyes, as usual, in plain english, gave an idea of confusion and want of method to newton forster, which, in a short time, he acknowledged himself to have been premature in having conceived. where you have to provide for such a number, to separate the luggage of so many parties, from the heavy chest to the fragile bandbox, to take in cargo, and prepare for sea, all at the same time, there must be apparently confusion. in a few days every thing finds its place; and, what is of more consequence, is itself to be found as soon as it may be required. according to the regulations on board of east india ships, forster messed below with the junior mates, midshipmen, surgeon's assistant, etcetera; the first and second mates only having the privilege of constantly appearing at the captain's table; while the others receive but an occasional invitation. forster soon became on intimate terms with his shipmates. as they will however appear upon the stage when required to perform their parts, we shall at present confine ourselves to a description of the captain and the passengers. captain drawlock was a man of about fifty years of age. report said that in his youth he had been wild, and some of his contemporary commanders in the service were wont to plague him by narrating divers freaks of former days, the recollection of which would create any thing but a smile upon his face. whether report and the other captains were correct or not in their assertions, captain drawlock was in appearance quite a different character at the time we introduce him. he was of sedate aspect, seldom smiled, and appeared to be wrapt up in the importance of the trust confided to him, particularly with respect to the young women who were sent out under his protection. he talked much of his responsibility, and divided the whole of his time between his chronometers and his young ladies; in both of which a trifling error was a source of irritation. upon any deviation on the part of either, the first were rated carefully, the latter were _rated soundly_; considering the safety of the ship to be endangered on the one hand, and the character of his ship to be equally at stake on the other. it was maliciously observed that the latter were by far the more erratic of the two; and still more maliciously, that the austere behaviour on the part of captain drawlock was all pretence; that he was as susceptible as the youngest officer in the ship; and that the women found it out long before the voyage was completed. it has been previously mentioned that all the passengers were on shore, except two, a presbyterian divine and his wife, the expenses attending whose passage out were provided for by a subscription which had been put on foot by some of the serious people of glasgow, who prayed fervently, and enlivened their devotions with most excellent punch. the worthy clergyman (for worthy he was) thought of little else but his calling, and was a sincere, enthusiastic man, who was not to be checked by any consideration in what he considered to be his duty; but although he rebuked, he rebuked mildly, and never lost his temper. stern in his creed, which allowed no loophole by which the offender might escape, still there was a kindness and even a humility in his expostulation, which caused his zeal never to offend, and often to create serious reflection. his wife was a tall, handsome woman, who evidently had usurped an ascendancy over her husband in all points unconnected with his calling. she too was devout; but hers was not the true religion, for it had not charity for its basis. she was clever and severe; spoke seldom; but the few words which escaped from her lips were sarcastic in their tendency. the passengers who still remained on shore were numerous. there was an old colonel, returning from a three years' furlough, the major part of which had been spent at cheltenham. he was an adonis of sixty, with yellow cheeks and white teeth; a man who had passed through life doing nothing; had risen in his profession without having seen service, except on one occasion, and of that circumstance he made the most. with a good constitution and happy temperament, constantly in society, and constantly in requisition, he had grown old without being aware of it, and considered himself as much an object of interest with the other sex as he was formerly when a gay captain of five-and-twenty, with good prospects. amusing and easily amused, he had turned over the pages of the novel of life so uninterruptedly, that he had nearly arrived at the last page without being conscious that the finis was at hand. then there were two cadets from the college, full of themselves and their own consequence, fitted out with plenty of money and plenty of advice, both of which were destined to be thrown away. there was also a young writer, who talked of his mother lady elizabeth, and other high relations, who had despatched him to india, that he might be provided for by a cholera morbus or a lucrative post; a matter of perfect indifference to those who had sent him from england. then, let me see, oh! there were two officers of a regiment at st. helena, with tongues much longer than their purses; who in the forepart of the day condescended to talk nonsense to the fairer of the other sex, and in the evening to win a few pounds from the weaker of their own. but all these were nobodies in the eyes of captain. drawlock; they were a part of his cargo, for which he was not responsible. the important part of his consignment were four unmarried women; three of them were young, good-looking, and poor; the other ill-favoured, old, but rich. we must give precedence to wealth and age. the lady last mentioned was a miss tavistock, born and educated in the city, where her father had long been at the head of the well-established firm of tavistock, bottlecock, and company, dyers, callenderers, and scourers. as we before observed, she was the fortunate sole heiress to her father's accumulation, which might amount to nearly thirty thousand pounds; but had been little gifted by nature. in fact, she was what you may style most preposterously ugly; her figure was large and masculine; her hair red; and her face very deeply indented with the small pox. as a man, she would have been considered the essence of vulgarity; as a woman she was the quintessence: so much so, that she had arrived at the age of thirty-six without having, notwithstanding her property, received any attentions which could be construed into an offer. as we always seek most eagerly that which we find most difficult to obtain, she was possessed with _une fureur de se marier_; and, as a last resource, had resolved to go out to india, where she had been informed that "any thing white" was acceptable. this _passion_ for matrimony (for with her it had so become, if not a disease) occupied her whole thoughts; but she attempted to veil them by always pre tending to be extremely sensitive and refined; to be shocked at any thing which had the slightest allusion to the "increase and multiply;" and constantly lamented the extreme fragility of her constitution; to which her athletic bony frame gave so determined a lie, that her hearers were struck dumb with the barefaced assertion. miss tavistock had kept up a correspondence with an old schoolmate, who had been taken away early to join her friends in india, and had there married. as her hopes of matrimony dwindled away, so did her affection for her old friend appear, by her letters, to increase. at last, in answer to a letter, in which she declared that she would like to come out, and (as she had long made a resolution to continue single) adopt one of her friend's children, and pass her days with them, she received an answer, stating how happy they would be to receive her, and personally renew the old friendship, if indeed she could be persuaded to venture upon so long and venturous a passage. whether this answer was sincere or not, miss tavistock took advantage of the invitation; and writing to intimate her speedy arrival, took her passage in the bombay castle. the other three spinsters were sisters; charlotte, laura, and isabel revel, daughters of the honourable mr revel, a _roue_ of excellent family, who had married for money, and had dissipated all his wife's fortune except the marriage settlement of pounds per annum. their mother was a selfish, short-sighted, manoeuvring woman, whose great anxiety was to form establishments for her daughters, or, in other terms, remove the expense of their maintenance from her own to the shoulders of other people, very indifferent whether the change might contribute to their happiness or not. mr revel may be said to have long deserted his family; he lived nobody knew where, and seldom called, unless it was to "raise the wind," upon his wife, who by intreaties and threats was necessitated to purchase his absence by a sacrifice of more than half her income. of his daughters he took little notice, when he _did_ make his appearance; and if so, it was generally in terms more calculated to raise the blush of indignant modesty than to stimulate the natural feelings of affection of a daughter towards a parent. their mother, whose income was not sufficient to meet the demands of a worthless husband, in addition to the necessary expenses attendant on three grown-up women, was unceasing in her attempts to get them off her hands: but we will introduce a conversation which took place between her and a sedate-looking, powdered old gentleman, who had long been considered as a "friend of the family," as thereby more light will perhaps be thrown upon her character. "the fact is, my dear mr heaviside, that i hardly know what to do. mr revel, who is very intimate with the theatre people, proposed that they should try their fortune on the stage. he says (and indeed there is some truth in it) that, now-a-days, the best plan for a man to make himself popular, is to be sent to newgate, and the best chance that a girl has of a coronet, is to become an actress. well, i did not much like the idea; but at last i consented. isabel, my youngest, is, you know, very handsome in her person, and sings remarkably well, and we arranged that she should go on first; and if she succeeded, that her sister charlotte should follow her; but isabel is of a very obstinate disposition, and when we proposed it to her, she peremptorily refused, and declared that she would go out as governess, or any thing rather than consent. i tried what coaxing would do, and her father tried threatening; but all was in vain. this was about a year ago, and she is now only seventeen; but she ever was a most decided, a most obstinate character." "very undutiful, indeed, ma'am; she might have been a duchess before this:--a very foolish girl, indeed, ma'am," observed the gentleman. "well, mr heaviside, we then thought that charlotte, our eldest, had the next best chance of success. although not by any means so good-looking as her sister; indeed, to tell you the truth, mr heaviside, which i would not do to every body,--but i know that you can keep a secret, charlotte is now nearly thirty years old, and her sister laura only one year younger." "is it possible, madam!" replied mr heaviside, looking at the lady with well feigned astonishment. "yes, indeed," replied the lady, who had forgotten that in telling her daughters' secrets, she had let out her own; "but i was married so young, so very young, that i am almost ashamed to think of it. well, mr heaviside, as i was saying, although not so good--looking as her sister, mr revel, who is a good judge in these matters, declared that by the theatre lights charlotte would be reckoned a very fine woman. we proposed it to her, and, after a little pouting, she consented; the only difficulty was, whether she should attempt tragedy or comedy. her features were considered rather too sharp for comedy, and her figure not quite tall enough for tragedy. she herself preferred tragedy, which decided the point; and mr revel, who knows all the actors, persuaded mr y--- (you know whom i mean, the great tragic actor) to come here, and give his opinion of her recitation. mr y--- was excessively polite; declared that she was a young lady of great talent; but that a slight lisp, which she has, unfitted her most decidedly for tragedy. of course it was abandoned for comedy, which she studied some time; and when we considered her competent, mr revel had interest enough to induce the great mr m--- to come and give his opinion. charlotte performed her part as i thought remarkably well, and when she had finished she left the room, that mr m--- might not be checked by her presence from giving me his unbiassed opinion." "which was favourable, ma'am, i presume; for, if not fitted for the one, she naturally must have been fit for the other." "so i thought," replied the lady, to this polite _non sequitur_ of the gentleman. "but mr m--- is a very odd man, and, if i must say it, not very polite. what do you think, mr heaviside, as soon as she left the room he rose from his chair, and, twisting up the corner of his mouth, as he looked me in the face, he said, `madam, it is my opinion that your daughter's comedy, whenever she makes her appearance on the boards, will, to use a yankee expression, _be most particularly damned_! i wish you a very good morning.'" "very rude indeed, madam; most excessively unpolite of mr m---. i should not have thought it possible." "well, mr heaviside, as for laura; poor thing! you are aware that she is not quite so clever as she might be; she never had any memory: when a child, she never could recollect the evening hymn if she missed it two nights running; so that acting was out of the question with her. so that all my hopes of their forming a splendid establishment by that channel have vanished. now, my dear mr heaviside, what would you propose?" "why, really, ma'am, it is so difficult to advise in these times; but, if anxious to dispose of your daughters, why not send them out to india?" "we have thought of it several times; for mr revel has an uncle there unmarried, and they say very rich. he is a colonel in the bombay marine, i believe." "more probably in the bengal army, ma'am." "well, i believe you are right; but i know it's in the company's service. but the old gentleman hates my husband, and will not have any thing to say to him. i did write a very civil letter to him, in which i just hinted how glad one or two of my daughters would be to take care of his house; but he never condescended to give me an answer. i am told that he is a very unpleasant man." "a difficult thing to advise, ma'am, very difficult indeed! but i can tell you a circumstance which occurred about five years ago, when a similar application to a relative in india was made by a friend of mine. it was no more attended to than yours has been. nevertheless, as it was supposed the answer had miscarried, the young lady was sent out to her relative with a decent equipment, and a letter of introduction. her relation was very much surprised: but what could he do? he could not permit the young lady to remain without a roof over her head; so he received her; and as he did not like to say how he had been treated, he held his tongue. the young lady in the course of three months, made a very good match; and is, to my knowledge, constantly sending home india shawls and other handsome presents to her mother." "indeed, mr heaviside, then do you advise--" "it is difficult, extremely difficult to advise upon so nice a point. i only state the fact, my dear madam: i should think the colonel must feel the want of female society; but, god bless me! it's nearly two o'clock.--good morning, my dear mrs revel--good morning." "good morning, my dear mr heaviside; it's very kind of you to call in this sociable way, and chat an hour or two.--good morning." the result of the above conversation was a consultation between mr revel and his wife upon their first meeting. mr revel was delighted with the plan, not so much caring at the disposal of his daughters as he was pleased with the idea of annoying his uncle, from whom he, at one time, had had great expectations: but, as it was necessary to be circumspect, especially with isabel, mr revel took the opportunity of a subsequent visit to state that he had received a letter from his uncle in india, wishing one of his daughters to go out and live with him. in a few months he read another letter (composed by himself, and copied in another hand), earnestly desiring that they might all come out to him, as it would be much to their advantage. the reluctance of the two eldest was removed by pointing out the magnificent establishments they might secure: the consent of isabel by a statement of difficulty and debt on the part of her parents, which would end in beggary if not relieved from the burden of their support. by insuring her life, a sum of money sufficient for their outfit and passage was raised on mrs revel's marriage settlement; and the three miss revels were thus shipped off by their affectionate parents, as a "venture," in the bombay castle. volume two, chapter fourteen. "thus the rich vessel moves in trim array, like some fair virgin on her bridal day: thus like a swan, she cleaves the watery plain, the pride and wonder of the aegean main. "the natives, while the ship departs the land, ashore, with admiration gazing stand: majestically slow before the breeze, in silent pomp, she marches on the seas." falconer. much to the satisfaction of captain drawlock, the chronometers and the ladies were safe on board, and the bombay castle proceeded to the downs, where she was joined by the purser, charged with the despatches of the august directors. once upon a time a director was a very great man, and the india board a very great board. there must have been a very great many plums in the pudding, for in this world people do not take trouble for nothing; and until latter years, how eagerly, how perseveringly was this situation applied for--what supplicating advertisements--what fawning and wheedling promises of attention to the interests of the proprietors--your "voices, good people!" but now nobody is so particularly anxious to be a director, because another board "bigger than he" has played the kittiwake, and forced it to disgorge for the consumption of its superior,--i mean the board of control: the reader has probably heard of it; the board which, not content with the european residents in india being deprived of their proudest birthright, "the liberty of the press," would even prevent them from having justice awarded to them, by directing two tame elephants (thereby implying two --- ---) to be placed on each side of a wild one (thereby implying an honest and conscientious man). notwithstanding all which, for the present, the tongue, the ears and the eyes are permitted to be made discreet use of, although i believe that the new charter is to have a clause introduced to the contrary. the prevalent disease of the time we live in is ophthalmia of intellect, affecting the higher classes. monarchs, stone-blind, have tumbled headlong from their thrones, and princes have been conducted by their subjects out of their principalities. the aristocracy are purblind, and cannot distinctly decipher the "signs of the times." the hierarchy cannot discover why people would have religion at a reduced price: in fact, they are all blind, and will not perceive that an enormous mass, in the shape of public opinion, hangs over their heads and threatens to annihilate them. forgetting that kings, and princes, and lords, spiritual or temporal, have all been raised to their various degrees of exaltation by public opinion alone, they talk of legitimacy, of vested rights, and deuteronomy.--well, if there is to be a general tumble, thank god, i can't fall far! we left the bombay castle in the downs, where she remained until joined by several other india vessels. on the arrival of a large frigate, who had orders to escort them as far as the island of st. helena, they all weighed, and bore down the channel before a strong south east gale. the first ten days of a voyage there is seldom much communication between those belonging to the ship and the passengers; the former are too much occupied in making things shipshape, and the latter with the miseries of sea-sickness. an adverse gale in the bay of biscay, with which they had to contend, did not at all contribute to the recovery of the digestive powers of the latter; and it was not until a day or two before the arrival of the convoy at madeira that the ribbon of a bonnet was to be seen fluttering in the breeze which swept the decks of the bombay castle. the first which rose up from the quarter-deck hatchway was one that encircled the head of mrs ferguson, the wife of the presbyterian divine, who crawled up the ladder, supported on one side by her husband, and on the other by the assiduous captain drawlock. "very well done, ma'am, indeed!" said the captain, with an encouraging smile, as the lady seized hold of the copper stanchions which surrounded the sky-lights, to support herself, when she had gained the deck. "you're a capital sailor, and have by your conduct set an example to the other ladies, as i have no doubt your husband does to the gentlemen. now allow me to offer you my arm." "will you take mine also, my dear," said mr ferguson. "no, mr ferguson," replied the lady, tartly; "i think it is enough for you to take care of yourself. recollect your scripture proverb of `the blind leading the blind.' i have no inclination to tumble into one of those pits," added she, pointing to the hatchway. captain drawlock very civilly dragged the lady to the weather-side of the quarter-deck, where, after in vain attempting to walk, she sat down upon one of the carronade slides. "the fresh air will soon revive you, ma'am; you'll be much better directly," observed the attentive captain. "i beg your pardon one moment, but there is another lady coming out of the cuddy." the cabins abaft the cuddy or dining-room were generally occupied by the more distinguished and wealthy passengers (a proportionate sum being charged extra for them). the good people of glasgow, with a due regard to economy, had not run themselves into such unnecessary expenses for the passage of mr and mrs ferguson. mr revel, aware of the effect produced by an appearance of wealth, had taken one of them for his daughters. the other had been secured by miss tavistock, much to the gratification of the captain, who thus had his unmarried ladies and his chronometers both immediately under his own eye. the personage who had thus called away the attention of the captain was isabel revel, whom, although she has already been mentioned, it will be necessary to describe more particularly to the reader. isabel revel was now eighteen years old, endowed with a mind so superior, that had not her talents been checked by a natural reserve, she might have stepped from the crowd, and have been hailed as a genius. she had been brought up by a foolish mother, and had in her earlier years been checked by her two insipid sisters, who assumed over her an authority which their age alone could warrant. seldom, if ever, permitted to appear when there was company, that she might not "spoil the market" of the eldest, she had in her solitude applied much to reading, and thus had her mind been highly cultivated. the conduct of her father entitled him to no respect; the heartlessness of her mother to no esteem; the tyranny of her sisters, to no affection; yet did she strive to render all. until the age of sixteen she had been the cinderella of the family, during which period of seclusion she had learned to think and to act for herself. her figure was a little above the middle size, light and elegant; her features beautiful, with an expression of seriousness, arising probably from speaking little and reflecting much. yet she possessed a mind ardent and enthusiastic, which often bore her away in animated discourse, until the eye of admiration fixed upon her, would suddenly close her lips, for her modesty and her genius were at perpetual variance. it is well known to most of my readers that woman is a problem; but it may not be as well known that now-a-days, she is a _mathematical problem_. yet so it is. as in the latter you have certain known quantities given by which you are to find a quantity unknown, so in a lady you have the hand, the foot, the mouth, etcetera, apparent; and 'tis only by calculation, now that modern dresses are made so full, that you can arrive at a just estimate of her approach to total perfection. all good arithmeticians, as they scrutinised the outward and the visible of isabel revel, were perfectly assured as to her quotient. but if i talked for hours, i could say no more than that she was one of those ideal images created in the dream of youth and poetry, fairly embodied in flesh and blood. as her father had justly surmised, could she have been persuaded to have tried her fortune on the stage, she had personal attractions, depth of feeling, and vivacity of mind to have rendered her one of the very first in a profession, to excel in which, perhaps, there is more correct judgment and versatility of talent required than in any other, and would have had a fair prospect of obtaining that coronet which has occasionally been the reward of those fair dames who "stoop to conquer." mr revel, who had been made acquainted with the customs on board of east india ships, had been introduced to mrs ferguson, and had requested her to take upon herself the office of _chaperone_ to his daughters, during the passage; a nominal charge indeed, yet considered to be etiquette. mrs ferguson, pleased with the gentleman--like demeanour and personal appearance of mr revel, and perhaps at the same time not sorry to have an authority to find fault, had most graciously acquiesced, and the three miss revels were considered to be under her protection. as i said before, miss isabel revel made her appearance not unattended, for she was escorted by doctor plausible, the surgeon of the ship. and now i must again digress while i introduce that gentleman. i never shall get that poor girl from the cuddy-door. doctor plausible had been summoned to prescribe for miss laura revel, who suffered extremely from the motion of the vessel, and the remedies which she had applied to relieve her uneasiness. miss laura revel had been told by somebody, previous to her embarkation, that the most effectual remedy for sea-sickness was gingerbread. in pursuance of the advice received, she had provided herself with ten or twelve squares of this commodity, about one foot by eighteen inches, which squares she had commenced upon as soon as she came on board, and had never ceased to swallow, notwithstanding various interruptions. the more did her stomach reject it, the more did she force it down, until, what, with deglutition, _et vice versa_, she had been reduced to a state of extreme weakness, attended with fever. how many panaceas have been offered without success for two evils-- sea-sickness and hydrophobia! and between these two there appears to be a link, for sea-sickness as surely ends in hydrophobia, as hydrophobia does in death. the sovereign remedy prescribed, when i first went to sea, was a piece of fat pork, tied to a string to be swallowed, and then pulled up again; the dose to be repeated until effective. i should not have mentioned this well-known remedy, as it has long been superseded by other nostrums, were it not that this maritime prescription has been the origin of two modern improvements in the medical catalogue--one is the stomach pump, evidently borrowed from this simple engine; the other is the very successful prescription now in vogue, to those who are weak in the digestive organs, to eat fat bacon for breakfast, which i have no doubt was suggested to doctor vance, from what he had been eye-witness to on board of a man-of-war. but here i am digressing again from doctor plausible to dr vance. reader, i never lose the opportunity of drawing a moral; and what an important one is here! observe how difficult it is to regain the right path when once you have quitted it. let my error be a warning to you in your journey through life, and my digressions preserve you from diverging from the beaten track, which, as the americans would say, leads _clean slick_ on to happiness and peace. doctor plausible was a personable man, apparently about five-and-thirty years old: he wore a little powder in his hair, black silk stockings, and knee-breeches. in this i consider doctor plausible was right; the above look much more scientific than wellington trousers; and much depends upon the exterior. he was quite a ladies' man; talked to them about their extreme sensibility, their peculiar fineness of organic structure, their delicacy of nerves; and soothed his patients more by flattery than by physic. having discovered that miss laura was not inclined to give up her gingerbread, he immediately acknowledged its virtues, but recommended that it should be cut into extremely small dice, and allowed, as it were, to melt, away upon the tongue; stating, that her digestive organs were so refined and delicate, that they would not permit them selves to be loaded with any large particles, even of farinaceous compound. isabel revel, who had been informed that mrs ferguson was on deck, expressed a wish to escape from the confined atmosphere of the cabin; and doctor plausible, as soon as he had prescribed for miss laura, offered miss isabel his services; which, for want of a better, perhaps, were accepted. the ship at this time had a great deal of motion. the gale was spent; but the sea created by the violence of the wind had not yet subsided, and the waves continued still to rise and fall again, like the panting breasts of men who have just desisted from fierce contention. captain drawlock hastened over to receive his charge from the hands of the medical attendant; and paying isabel some compliments on her appearance, was handing her over to the weather-side, where mrs ferguson was seated, when a sea of larger dimensions than usual careened the ship to what the sailors term a "heavy lurch." the decks were wet and slippery. captain drawlock lost his footing and was thrown to leeward. isabel would have most certainly kept him company; and indeed was already under weigh for the lee-scuppers, had not it been that newton forster, who stood near, caught her round the waist, and prevented her from falling. it certainly was a great presumption to take a young lady round the waist previous to any introduction; but, at sea, we are not very particular; and if we do perceive that a lady is in danger of a severe fall, we do not stand upon etiquette. what is more remarkable, we generally find that the ladies excuse our unpolished manners, either upon the score of our good intentions, or because there is nothing so very impertinent in them after all. certain it is, that isabel, as soon as she had recovered from her alarm, thanked newton forster, with a sweet smile, for his timely aid, as she again took the arm of captain drawlock, who escorted her to the weather-side of the quarter-deck. "i have brought you one of your _protegees_, mrs ferguson," said captain drawlock. "how do you feel, miss revel?" "like most young ladies, sir, a little giddy," replied isabel. "i hope you were not hurt, captain drawlock; i'm afraid that you fell by paying more attention to me than to yourself." "my duty, miss revel. allow me to add, my pleasure," replied the captain, bowing. "that's very politely said, captain drawlock," replied isabel. "almost too polite, i think," observed mrs ferguson (who was out of humour at not being the first object of attention), "considering that captain drawlock is a married man, with seven children." the captain looked glum, and miss revel observing it, turned the conversation, by inquiring--"who was that gentleman who saved me from falling?" "mr newton forster, one of the mates of the vessel. would you like to walk miss revel or remain where you are?" "thank you, i will stay with mrs ferguson." the gentlemen passengers had as yet but occasionally appeared on deck. men generally suffer more from the distressing sickness than women. as soon, however, as the news had been communicated below, that the ladies were on deck, some of the gentlemen immediately repaired to their trunks, to make themselves presentable, and then hastened on deck. the first on deck was the old colonel, who tottered up the hatchway, and by dint of seizing rope after rope, at last succeeded in advancing his lines to within hearing range of mrs ferguson, to whom he had been formally introduced. he commenced by lamenting his unfortunate sufferings, which had prevented him from paying those attentions, ever to him a source of enjoyment and gratification; but he was a martyr-- quite a martyr; never felt any sensation which could be compared to it, except when he was struck in the breast with a spent ball, in the battle of ---; that their appearance had made him feel revived already; that as the world would be a dark prison without the sun, so would a ship be without the society of ladies; commenced a description of calcutta, and then--made a hasty retreat to the lee-gangway. the young writer next made his appearance, followed by two boys, who were going out as cadets; the first, with a new pair of grey kid gloves, the others in their uniforms. the writer descanted long upon his own miseries, without any inquiry or condolement for the sufferings of the ladies. the cadets said nothing; but stared so much at isabel revel, that she dropped her veil. the ladies had been about a quarter of an hour on deck, when the sun, which had not shown itself for two days, gleamed through the clouds. newton, who was officer of the watch, and had been accustomed when with mr berecroft, to work a chronometer, interrupted the captain, who was leaning on the carronade, talking to mrs ferguson. "the sun is out, and the horizon pretty clear, sir; you may have sights for the chronometers." "yes, indeed," said the captain, looking up; "be quick, and fetch my sextant. you'll excuse me, ladies, but the chronometers must be attended to." "in preference to us, captain drawlock?--fie for shame!" replied mrs ferguson. "why, not exactly," replied the captain, "not exactly; but the fact is that the sun may go in again." "and we can stay out, i presume?" replied isabel, laughing. "i think, mrs ferguson, we ought to go in too." "but, my dear young lady, if the sun goes in, i shall not get a _sight_!" "and if we go in, you will not get a sight either," replied mrs ferguson. "between the two, sir," observed newton, handing captain drawlock his sextant, "you stand a chance of losing both. there's no time to spare; i'm all ready." captain drawlock walked to the break of the gangways, so far concealed from the ladies that they could not perceive that he was looking through his sextant, the use of which they did not comprehend, having never seen one before. newton stood at the capstern, with his eyes fixed on the watch. "captain drawlock," said mrs ferguson, calling to him, "allow me to observe--" "_stop_," cried captain drawlock, in a loud voice. newton, to whom this was addressed, noted the time. "good heavens what can be the matter;" said mrs ferguson, with astonishment, to those near her; "how excessively rude of captain drawlock;--what can it be?" continued she, addressing the colonel, who had rejoined them. "really, madam, i cannot tell; but it is my duty to inquire," replied the colonel, who, going up to captain drawlock, commenced--"have the ladies already so fallen in your estimation--" "forty degrees!" cried captain drawlock, who was intent upon his sextant. "excuse me, sir, just now." "when will you be at leisure, sir?" resumed the colonel, haughtily. "twenty-six minutes," continued the captain, reading off his sextant. "a little sooner, i should hope, sir," retorted the colonel. "forty-five seconds." "this is really quite insufferable! miss revel, we had better go in." "stop!" again cried captain drawlock, in a loud voice. "stop!" repeated mrs ferguson, angrily; "surely we are not slaves." newton, who heard what was passing, could not repress his laughter. "indeed, i am sure there must be some mistake, mrs ferguson," observed isabel. "wait a little." "forty-six minutes, thirty seconds," again read off the captain. "capital sights both! but the sun is behind that dark cloud, and we shall have no more of his presence." "nor of ours, i assure you, sir," said mrs ferguson, rising, as captain drawlock walked from the gangway to the capstern. "why, my dear madam, what is the matter?" "we have not been accustomed to such peremptory language, sir. it may be the custom on board ship to holla `stop' to ladies when they address you, or express a wish to leave the deck." "my dearest madam, i do assure you, upon my honour, that you are under a mistake. i ordered mr forster to stop, not you." "mr forster!" replied the lady; "why, he was standing still the whole time!" it was not until the whole system of taking sights for chronometers had been satisfactorily explained that the lady recovered her good-humour. while the captain was thus employed with mrs ferguson, newton, although it was not necessary, explained the mystery to miss revel, who, with mrs ferguson, soon after quitted the deck. the sights taken proved the ship to be to the eastward of her reckoning. the other ships in company had made the same discovery, and the course was altered one quarter of a point. in two days they dropped their anchor in funchal roads. but i must for a little while recross the bay of biscay, and with my reader look into the chambers of mr john forster. look upon this child i saved her, must not leave her life to chance; but point me out some nook of safety, where she less may shrink and grieve. ... this child, who parentless, is therefore mine. byron. a few minutes after newton had quitted the chambers of his uncle the clerk made his appearance, announcing to mr john forster that a gentleman requested to speak to him. "i asked the gentleman's name, sir," observed the clerk, shutting to the door, "but he did not choose to give it. he has a little girl with him." "very well, scratton, the little girl cannot concern me," replied the old lawyer; "ask him to walk in;"--and he again conned over the brief, not choosing to lose the minute which might elapse before he was again to be interrupted. the door was reopened, and edward forster, with amber holding him by the hand, entered the room. "your servant, sir. scratton, a chair--two chairs, scratton. i beg your pardon, young lady." when the clerk had retired, mr john forster commenced as usual. "now, sir, may i request the favour of asking your business with me?" "you do not recollect me; nor am i surprised at it, as it is fifteen years since we last met. time and suffering, which have worn me to a skeleton, have also worn out the remembrance of a brother. i am edward forster." "edward forster!--humph! well, i did not recollect you; but i'm very glad to see you, brother. very strange never have heard of one of my family for years, and now they all turn up at once! no sooner get rid of one than up starts another. nicholas came from the lord knows where, the other day." edward forster, who was better acquainted with his brother's character than newton, took no notice of the abruptness of his remarks, but replied:-- "nicholas! is he then alive? i shall be delighted to see him." "humph!" replied john, "i was delighted to get rid of him. take care of your watch or spectacles when you meet him." "indeed, brother! i trust he is not such a character." "but he is a character, i can tell you; not what you suppose--he's honest enough. let me see if my memory serves me, brother edward, we last met when you were passing through london on your way to ---, having been invalided, and having obtained a pension of forty pounds per annum for a severe wound received in action. and pray, brother, where have you been ever since?" "at the same spot, from which i probably never should have been induced to remove, had it not been for the sake of this little girl who is now with me." "and pray who may be that little girl? is she your daughter?" "only by adoption." "humph, brother! for a half-pay lieutenant that appears rather an expensive whim!--bad enough to maintain children of our own begetting." "you say true," replied edward; "but if in this instance i have incurred an expense and responsibility, it must be considered to be more my misfortune than my fault." edward forster then entered into the particulars connected with amber's rescue. "you must acknowledge, brother john," observed edward, as he closed his narrative, "that i could not well have acted otherwise; you would not have yourself." "humph! i don't know that; but this i do know, that you had better have stayed at home!" "perhaps so, considering the forlorn prospects of the child; but we must not judge. the same providence which willed that she should be so miraculously saved, also willed that i should be her protector;--why otherwise did the dog lay her at my feet?" "because it had been taught to `fetch and carry,' i suppose: but, however, brother edward, i have no right to question your conduct. if the girl is as good as she is pretty, why all the better for her; but, as i am rather busy, let me ask if you have any more to say to me?" "i have, john; and the discourse we have had is preliminary. i am here with a child, forced upon me i may say, but still as dear to me as if she were mine own. you must be aware that i have nothing but my pension and half-pay to subsist upon. i can save nothing. my health is undermined and my life precarious. last winter i never expected to quit my bed again and, as i lay in it, the thought naturally occurred of the forlorn and helpless state in which this poor little girl would be in case of my decease. in a lonely cottage,--without money--without family or friends to apply to--without any one near her being made acquainted with her unfortunate history. what would have become of her? it was this reflection which determined me, if my life was spared, as soon as my health would permit, to come to you, the only relative i was certain of still having in the world, that i might acquaint you with her existence, and, with her history, confide to you the few articles of dress which she wore when rescued, and which may eventually lead to her recognition:--a case of extreme doubt and difficulty, i grant; but the ways of providence are mysterious, and her return to the arms of her friends will not be more wonderful than her preservation on that dreadful night. brother! i never have applied to you in my own behalf, although conscious how ample are your means--and i never will; but i do now plead in favour of this dear child. worn out as i am, my pilgrimage on earth can be but short; and if you would smooth the pillow of a dying brother, promise him now that you will extend your bounty to this poor orphan, when i'm no more!" edward forster's voice was tremulous at the close of his appeal, and his brother appeared to be affected. there was a silence of a minute, when the customary "humph!" was ejaculated, and john forster then continued: "a very foolish business, brother--very foolish indeed. when nicholas and his son came here the other day and applied to me--why, it was all very well there was relationship;--but really, to put another man's child upon me!" "not while it pleases heaven to spare _my_ life, brother." "`may you live a thousand years!' then, as the spanish say; but, however, brother edward, as you say, the poor thing must not starve; so, if i am to take care of a child of another man's begetting, as soon as you are dead, i can only say, it will very much increase my sorrow at your loss. come here, little one: what's your name?" "amber." "amber! who the devil gave you that fool's name?" "i did, brother," replied edward, "i thought it appropriate." "humph! really can't see why. why did you not call her sukey, or some name fit for a christian? amber! amber's a gum, is it not? stop, let's see what johnson says." the lawyer went to a case of books which were in the next room, and returned with a quarto. "now," said he, seating himself; "ag--al--am--ambassador--ambassadress-- amber! humph! here it is, `a yellow transparent substance of a gummous or bituminous consistence, but of a resinous taste, and a smell like oil of turpentine; chiefly found in the baltic sea or the coast of prussia.' humph! `some have imagined it to consist of the tears of birds; others the'--humph!--`of a beast; others the scum of the lake cephesis, near the atlantic; others a congelation in some fountains, where it is found swimming like pitch.' really, brother," continued the lawyer, fixing his eyes on the little girl, and shutting the book, "i can't see the analogy." "be her godfather, my dear brother, and call her any name you please." "humph!" "pray, papa," said amber, turning to edward forster, "what's the meaning of humph?" "humph!" repeated the lawyer, looking hard at amber. "it implies yes or no, as it may be," replied edward forster, smiling. "i never heard any one say it before, papa. you're not angry with me, sir?" continued amber, turning round to john forster. "no, not angry, little girl; but i'm too busy to talk to you--or indeed with you, brother edward. have you any thing more to say?" "nothing, my dear brother, if i have your promise." "well, you have it; but what am i to do with her, god only knows! i wish you had kept better hours. you mentioned some clothes which might identify her to her relations; pray let me have them, for i shall have the greatest pleasure in restoring her to them, as soon as possible, after she is once in my hands." "here they are, brother," replied edward, taking a small packet from his coat-pocket: "you had better take charge of them now; and may god bless you for having relieved my mind from so heavy a load!" "humph! by taking it on my own shoulders," muttered john, as he walked to the iron safe, to deposit the packet of linen; then returning to the table, "have you any thing more to say, brother?" "only to ask you where i may find my brother nicholas?" "that i can't tell; my nephew told me somewhere down the river; but, it's a long way from here to the nore. nephew's a fine lad; i sent him off to the east indies." "i am sorry then that i have no chance of seeing him:--but you are busy, brother?" "i have told you so three times, as plain as i could speak?" "i will no longer trespass on your time. we return home to-morrow morning; and, as i cannot expect ever to see you again, god bless you, my dear john! and farewell, i am afraid i may say, in this world at least, farewell for ever!" edward held out his hand to his brother. it was taken with considerable emotion. "farewell, brother, farewell!--i'll not forget." "good-bye, sir," said amber, going close up to john forster. "good-bye, my little girl," replied he, looking earnestly in her face; and then, as if thawing towards her, as he scanned her beautiful and expressive features, removing his spectacles and kissing her, "good-bye." "oh! papa," cried amber, as she went out of the room, "he kissed me!" "humph!" said john forster, as the door closed upon them. the spectacles were put on, and the reading of the brief immediately continued. volume two, chapter sixteen. _strickland_. "these doings in my house distract me. i met a fine gentleman, when i inquired who he was--why, he came to clarinda. i met a footman too, and he came to clarinda. my wife had the character of a virtuous woman--" _suspicious husband_. "let us no more contend each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive in offices of love, how we may lighten each other's burden in our share of woe." milton. i do not know a spot on the globe which astonishes and delights, upon your first landing, as the island of madeira. the voyager embarks, and is in all probability confined to his cabin, suffering under the dreadful protraction of seasickness. perhaps he has left england in the gloomy close of the autumn, or the frigid concentration of an english winter. in a week, or even in a shorter period, he again views that terra firma which he had quitted with regret, and which in his sufferings he would have given half that he possessed to regain. when he lands upon the island, what a change! winter has become summer, the naked trees which be left are exchanged for the most luxuriant and varied foliage, snow and frost for warmth and splendour; the scenery of the temperate zone for the profusion and magnificence of the tropics; fruit which he had never before seen, supplies for the table unknown to him; a bright sky, a glowing sun, hills covered with vines, a deep-blue sea, a picturesque and novel costume; all meet and delight the eye, just at the precise moment, when to have been landed even upon a barren island would have been considered as a luxury. add to all this, the unbounded hospitality of the english residents, a sojourn too short to permit satiety and then is it to be wondered that the island of madeira is a "green spot" in the memory of all those who land there, or that they quit it with regret? the bombay castle had not been two hours at anchor before the passengers had availed themselves of an invitation from one of the english residents, and were quartered in a splendid house, which hooked upon a square and one of the principal churches in the city of funchal. while the gentlemen amused themselves at the extensive range of windows with the novelty of the scene, and the ladies retired to their apartments to complete the hasty toilet of their disembarkation, captain drawlock was very busy in the counting-house below, with the master of the house. there were so many pipes of madeira for the honourable company; so many for the directors' private cellars, besides many other commissions for friends, which captain drawlock had undertaken to execute; for at that period madeira wine had not been so calumniated as it latterly has been. a word upon this subject.--i am a mortal enemy to every description of humbug; and i believe there is as much in the medical world as in any other. madeira wine had for a century been in high and deserved reputation, when on a sudden some fashionable physician discovers that it contained more acid than sherry. whether he was a sleeping partner in some spanish house, or whether he had received a present of a few pipes of sherry, that he might turn the scale of public favour towards that wine, i know not; but certain it is, that it became fashionable with all medical gentlemen to prescribe sherry; and when once any thing becomes fashionable, _c'est une affaire decide_. i do not pretend to be much of a pathologist; but on reading mr f---'s analysis on the component parts of wine, i observed that in one hundred parts there are perhaps twenty-two parts of acid in madeira, and nineteen in sherry; so that, in fact, if you reduce your glass of madeira wine, just _one sip_ in quantity, you will imbibe no more acid than in a full glass of sherry; and when we consider the variety of acids in sugar and other compounds, which abound in culinary preparations, the fractional quantity upon which has been grounded the abuse of madeira wine, appears to be most ridiculous. but if not a pathologist, i have a most decided knowledge of what is good wine; and if the gout should some day honour me with a visit, i shall at least have the consolation to know that i have by potation most honestly _earned_ it. but allowing that the medical gentlemen are correct, still their good intentions are frustrated by the knavery of the world; and the result of their prescriptions is, that people drink much more acid than they did before. i do every justice to good old sherry when it does make its appearance at table; it is a noble wine when aged and unsophisticated from its youth; but for once that you meet with it genuine, you are twenty times disappointed. when madeira wine was in vogue, the island could not produce the quantity required for consumption, and the vintage from the north side of the island, or of teneriffe, was substituted. this adulteration no doubt was one cause of its losing its well established reputation. but madeira wine has a quality which in itself proves its superiority over all other wines--namely, that although no other wine can be passed off as madeira, yet with madeira the wine-merchants may imitate any other wine that is in demand. what is the consequence? that madeira, not being any longer in request as madeira, now that sherry is the "correct thing," and there not being sufficient of the latter to meet the increased demand, most of the wine vended as sherry is made from the inferior madeira wines. reader, if you have ever been in spain, you may have seen the xerez or sherry wine brought from the mountains to be put into the cask. a raw goat-skin, with the neck-part and the four legs sewed up, forms a leathern bag, containing perhaps from fifteen to twenty gallons. this is the load of one man, who brings it down on his shoulder exposed to the burning rays of the sun. when it arrives, it is thrown down on the sand, to swelter in the heat with the rest and remains there probably for days before it is transferred into the cask. it is this proceeding which gives to sherry that peculiar leather twang which distinguishes it from other wines--a twang easy to imitate by throwing into a cask of cape wine a pair of old boots, and allowing them to remain a proper time. although the public refuse to drink madeira, as madeira, they are in fact drinking it in every way disguised--as port, as sherry, etcetera; and it is a well-known fact that the poorer wines from the north side of the island are landed in the london docks, and shipped off to the continent, from whence they reappear in bottles as "peculiarly fine flavoured hock!" now, as it is only the indifferent wines which are thus turned into sherry,--and the more inferior the wine, the more acid it contains,--i think i have made out a clear case that people are drinking more acid than they did before this wonderful discovery of the medical gentlemen, who have for some years led the public by the nose. there are, however, some elderly persons of my acquaintance who are not to be dissuaded from drinking madeira, but who continue to destroy themselves by the use of this acid, which perfumes the room when the cork is extracted. i did represent to one of them, that it was a species of suicide, after what the doctors had discovered; but he replied, in a very gruff tone of voice, "may be, sir; but you can't teach an old dog new tricks!" i consider that the public ought to feel very much indebted to me for this _expose_. madeira wine is very low, while sherry is high in price. they have only to purchase a cask of madeira and flavour it with wellington boots or ladies' shippers, as it may suit their palates. the former will produce the high-coloured, the latter the pale sherry. further, i consider that the merchants of madeira are bound to send me a letter of thanks, with a pipe of bual, to prove its sincerity. now i recollect stoddart did promise me some wine when he was last in england; but i suppose he has forgotten it. but from the produce i must return to the island and my passengers. the first day of their arrival they eat their dinner, took their coffee, and returned to bed early to enjoy a comfortable night after so many of constant pitching and tossing. the next morning the ladies were much better, and received the visits of all the captains of the india ships, and also of the captain of the frigate who escorted them. the officers of the bombay castle had been invited to dinner; and the first-mate not being inclined to leave the ship, newton had for one accepted the invitation. on his arrival he discovered in the captain of the frigate his former acquaintance, captain carrington, in whose ship he had obtained a passage from the west indies, and who on the former being paid off had been appointed to the command of the boadicea, captain carrington was delighted to meet newton; and the attention which he paid to him, added to the encomiums bestowed when newton was out of bearing, raised him very high in the opinion, not only of captain drawlock, but also in the estimation of the ladies. at the request of captain carrington newton was allowed to remain on shore till their departure from the island; and from this circumstance he became more intimate with the ladies than he would in all probability have otherwise been in the whole course of the voyage. we must pass over the gallop up to nostra senhora da monte, an expedition opposed by captain drawlock on the score of his responsibility; but he was over-ruled by captain carrington, who declared that newton and he were quite sufficient convoy. we must pass over the many compliments paid to isabel revel by captain carrington, who appeared desperately in hove after an acquaintance of four-and-twenty hours, and who discovered a defect in the boadicea which would occupy two or three days to make good, that he might be longer in her company; but we will not pass over one circumstance which occurred during their week's sojourn at this delightful island. a certain portuguese lady of noble birth had been left a widow with two daughters, and a fine estate to share between them. the daughters were handsome; but the estate was so much handsomer, that it set all the mandolins of the portuguese inamoratos strumming under the windows of the lady's abode from sunset to the dawn of day. now it did so occur that a young english clerk in a mercantile house, who had a fresh complexion and a clean shirt to boast of (qualifications unknown to the portuguese), won the heart of the eldest daughter; and the old lady, who was not a very strict catholic, gave her consent to this heretical union. the catholic priests, who had long been trying to persuade the old lady to shut up her daughters in a convent, and endow the church with her property, expressed a holy indignation at the intended marriage. the portuguese gentlemen, who could not brook the idea of so many fair hills of vines going away to a stranger were equally indignant: in short, the whole portuguese population of the island were in arms; but the old lady, who had always contrived to have her way before her husband's death, was not inclined to be thwarted now that she was her own mistress; and, notwithstanding threats and expostulations from all quarters, she awaited but the arrival of an english man-of-war that the ceremony might be performed, there being at that time no protestant clergyman on the island; for the reader must know that a marriage on board of a king's ship, by the captain duly entered in the log-book, is considered as valid as if the ceremony were performed by the archbishop of canterbury. i once married couple on board of a little ten-gun brig of which i condescended to take the command, to oblige the first lord of the admiralty; offered, i believe to _provide_ for me, and rid the board of all future solicitations for employment or promotion. it was one of my sailors, who had come to a determination to make an honest woman of poll and an ass of himself, at one and the same time. the ceremony took place on the quarter-deck. "who gives this woman away?" said i, with due emphasis, according to the ritual. "i do," cried the boatswain in a gruff voice, taking the said lady by the arm and shoving her towards me, as if he thought her not worth keeping. every thing went on seriously, nevertheless. the happy pair were kneeling down on the union-jack, which had been folded on the deck in consideration of the lady's knees, and i was in the middle of the blessing, when two pigs which we had procured at st. jaco's, being them off that island (creatures more like english pigs on stilts than any thing else, unless you could imagine a cross between a pig and a greyhound), in the lightness of their hearts and happy ignorance of their doom, took a frisk, as you often see pigs do on shore, commenced a run from forward right aft, and galloping to the spot where we were all collected, rushed against the two just made one, destroying their centre of gravity, and upsetting them; and, indeed, destroying the gravity and upsetting the seriousness of myself and the whole of the ship's company. the lady recovered her legs, damned the pigs, and, taking her husband's arm, hastened down the hatchway; so that i lost the kiss to which i was entitled for my services. i consoled myself by the reflection that, "please the pigs," i might be more fortunate the next time that i officiated in my clerical capacity. this is a digression i grant, but i cannot help it; it is the nature of man to digress. who can say that he has through life kept in the straight path? this is a world of digression; and i beg that critics will take no notice of mine, as i have an idea that my digressions in this work are as agree able to my readers, as my digressions in life have been agreeable to myself. when captain carrington anchored with his convoy in funchal roads, immediate application was made by the parties for the ceremony to be performed on board of his ship. it is true that, as mr ferguson had arrived, it might have taken place on shore; but it was considered advisable, to avoid interruption and insult, that the parties should be under the sanctuary of a british man-of-war. on the fourth day after the boadicea's arrival the ceremony was performed on board of her by mr ferguson; and the passengers of the bombay, residing at the house of mr ---, who was an intimate friend of the bridegroom, received and accepted the invitation to the marriage-dinner. the feast was splendid, and after the portuguese custom. the first course was _boiled_: it consisted of boiled beef, boiled mutton, boiled hams, boiled tongues, boiled bacon, boiled fowls, boiled turkeys, boiled sausages, boiled cabbages, boiled potatoes, and boiled carrots. duplicates of each were ranged in opposition, until the table groaned with its superincumbent weight. all were cut up, placed in one dish, and handed round to the guests. when they drank wine, every glass was filled, and every body who filled his glass was expected to drink the health of every guest separately and by name before he emptied it. the first course was removed, and the second made its appearance all roasted. roast beef, roast veal, roast mutton, roast lamb, roast joints of pork, roasted turkeys, roasted fowls, roasted sausages, roasted every thing; the centre dish being a side of a large hog, rolled up like an enormous fillet of veal. this too was done ample justice to by the portuguese part of the company, at least, and all was cleared away for the dessert, consisting of oranges, melons, pine-apples, guavas, citrons, bananas, peaches, strawberries, apples, pears, and indeed of almost every fruit which can be found in the whole world, all of which appear to naturalise themselves at madeira. it was now supposed by the uninitiated that the dinner was over; but not so; the dessert was cleared away, and on came an _husteron proteron_ medley of pies and puddings, in all their varieties, smoking hot, boiled and baked, custards and sweetmeats, cheese and olives, fruits of all kinds preserved, and a hundred other things, from which the gods preserve us! at last the feast was really over; the portuguese picked their teeth with their forks, and the wine was circulated briskly. on such an occasion as the marriage of her daughter, the old lady had resolved to take a pipe of madeira, which was, at the very least, fifty years old, very fine in flavour, but, from having been so long in the wood, little inferior in strength to genuine cogniac. the consequence was, that many of the gentlemen became noisy before the dinner was over; and their mirth was increased to positive uproar upon a message being sent by the bishop, ordering upon pain of excommunication, that the ceremony should proceed no further. the ladies retired to the withdrawing room; the gentlemen soon followed; but the effects of the wine were so apparent upon most of them, that captain drawlock summoned newton to his assistance, and was in a state of extreme anxiety until his "responsibilities" were safe at home. shortly afterwards, captain carrington and those who were the least affected, by persuasion or force, removed the others from the house; and the bridal party were left to themselves, to deliberate whether they should or should not obey the preposterous demands of the reverend bishop. captain carrington was excessively fond of a joke, and never lost the opportunity when it occurred; now it happened, that in the party invited there was a merchant of the name of sullivan, who, upon his last visit to england, had returned with a very pretty, and at the same time, a very coquettish young lady as his wife. it happened, in the casualties of a large dinner party, that the old colonel (ellice was his name, if i have not mentioned it before) was seated next to her, and, as usual, was remarkably attentive. mr sullivan, like many other gentlemen, was very inattentive to his wife, and, unlike most irishmen, was very jealous of her. the very marked attention of the colonel had not escaped his notice; neither did his fidgeting upon this occasion escape the notice of those about him, who were aware of his disposition. the poor colonel was one of those upon whose brain the wine had taken the most effect, and it was not until after sundry falls, and being again placed upon his legs, that he had been conveyed home, between captain carrington and mr ---, the merchant at whose house the party from the bombay castle were residing. the ensuing morning he did not make his appearance at breakfast; and the gentlemen residing on the island, commenting upon the events of the evening before, declared in a joking way that they should not be surprised at mr sullivan sending him a challenge in the course of the morning; that was, if he was up so soon, as he had quitted the house in a greater state of inebriety than even the colonel. it was upon this hint that captain carrington proposed to have some amusement; and having arranged with one of the junior partners of the house, he went into the room of the colonel, whom he found still in bed. "well, colonel, how do you find yourself?" said captain carrington, when he had roused him. "oh! very bad indeed: my head is ready to split: never felt such a sensation in my head before, except when i was struck with a spent ball at the battle of--" "i am very sorry for your headache, colonel, but more sorry that the wine should have played you such a trick last night." "trick indeed!" replied the colonel; "i was completely overcome: i do not recollect a word that passed after i had quitted the dinner table." "are you serious? do you not recollect the scene with mrs sullivan?" "mrs sullivan! my dear sir, what scene? i certainly paid every attention due to a very pretty woman; but i recollect no further." "not the scene in the drawing-room?" "god bless me!--no--i do not even recollect ever going into the drawing-room! pray tell me what i said or did: i hope nothing improper." "why that depends very much whether a lady likes it or not: but in the presence of so many people--" "merciful powers! captain carrington, pray let me know at once what folly it was that i committed." "why, really, i am almost ashamed to enter into particulars: suffice to say, that you used most unwarrantable freedom towards her." "is it possible?" cried the colonel.--"now, captain carrington, are you not joking?" "ask this gentleman; he was present." the assertion of the captain was immediately corroborated, and the colonel was quite aghast. "excuse me, gentlemen, i will run immediately--that abominable wine; i must go and make a most ample apology. i am bound to do it, as a gentleman, as an officer, and as a man of honour." captain carrington and his confederate quitted the room, satisfied with the success of their plot. the colonel rose, and soon afterwards made his appearance. he swallowed a cup of coffee, and then proceeded on his visit, to make the _amende honorable_. when mr sullivan awoke from the lethargy produced from the stupefying effects of the wine, he tried to recollect the circumstances of the preceding evening; but he could trace no further than to the end of the dinner, after which his senses had been overpowered. all that he could call to memory was, that somebody had paid great attention to his wife, and that what had passed afterwards was unknown. this occasioned him to rise in a very jealous humour; and he had not been up more than an hour, when the colonel sent up his card, requesting, as a particular favour that the lady would admit him. the card and messenger were taken by the servant to mr sullivan, whose jealousy was again roused by the circumstance; and wishing to know if the person who had now called was the same who had been so attentive to his wife on the preceding evening, and the motives of the call, he requested that the colonel might be shown in, without acquainting his wife, whom he had not yet seen, with his arrival. the colonel, who intended to have made an apology to the lady without the presence of a third person, least of all of her husband, ascended the stairs, adjusting his hair and cravat, and prepared with all the penitent assurance and complimentary excuses of a too ardent lover. the fact was, that, although the colonel had expressed to captain carrington his regret and distress at the circumstance, yet, as an old adonis, he was rather proud of this instance of juvenile indiscretion. when therefore he entered the room, and perceived, instead of the lady. mr sullivan raised up to his utmost height, and looking any thing but good humoured, he naturally started back, and stammered out something which was unintelligible. his behaviour did not allay the suspicions of mr sullivan, who requested, in a haughty tone, to be informed of the reason why he had been honoured with a visit. the colonel became more confused, and totally losing his presence of mind, replied:-- "i called, sir,--on mrs sullivan,--to offer an apology for my conduct last night; but as i perceive that she is not visible, i will take a more favourable opportunity." "any apology you may have to offer to my wife, sir," replied mr sullivan, "may be confided to me. may i inquire the circumstances which have occurred to render an apology necessary?" and mr sullivan walked to the door and closed it. "why, really, mr sullivan, you must be aware that circumstances may occur," replied the colonel, more confused: "the fact is, that i consider it my duty, as a gentleman and a man of honour, to express my regrets to your fair lady." "my fair lady! for what, sir, may i ask?" "why, sir," stammered the colonel, "to state the truth, for, as a gentleman, and a man of honour, i ought not to be ashamed to acknowledge my error--for--the very improper behaviour which i was guilty of last night." "improper behaviour, sir!--damnation! with my wife?" roared mr sullivan, in his rage. "what behaviour, sir? and when, sir?" "really, sir, i was too much affected with the wine to know any thing which passed. i did hope to have addressed the lady in person on the subject, and i came here with that intention." "i dare say you did, sir?" "but," continued the colonel, "as it appears i am not to have that honour, i consider that i have done my duty in requesting that you will convey my sentiments of regret for what has passed;--and, now, sir, i wish you a good morning." "good morning," retorted the husband, with a sneer; "and observe, sir, i will not trouble you to call again, william, show this gentleman outside the door." the colonel, who was descending the stairs, turned round to mr sullivan at the latter part of his speech, and then, as if thinking better of it, he resumed his descent, and the door was immediately closed upon him. mr sullivan, as soon as he was satisfied that the colonel was shut out, immediately repaired to his wife's dressing-room, where he found her reading. "madam," said he, fixing his eyes sternly on her, "i have been informed of what took place last night." "i'm sure i do not know what that was," replied the lady, coolly, "except that you were very tipsy." "granted, madam: you took advantage of it; and your conduct--" "my conduct, mr sullivan!" replied his wife, kindling with anger. "yes, mrs sullivan, your conduct. a married woman, madam, who allows gentlemen--" "gentlemen, mr sullivan! i allow no gentlemen but yourself. are you sure that you are quite sober?" "yes, madam, i am; but this affected coolness will not avail you: deny, if you can, that colonel ellice did not last night--" "well, then, i do deny it. neither colonel ellice nor any other man ever did--" "did what, madam?" interrupted the husband, in a rage. "i was going to observe, if you had not interrupted me, that no one was wanting in proper respect towards me," replied the lady, who grew more cool as her husband increased in choler. "pray, mr sullivan, may i inquire who is the author of this slander?" "the author, madam! look at me--to your confusion look at me!" "well, i'm looking." "'twas, madam--the colonel himself." "the colonel himself!" "yes, madam, the colonel himself, who called this morning to see you, and renew the intimacy, i presume; but, by mistake, was shown up to me, and then made an apology for his conduct." "it's excessively strange! first the colonel is rude, without my knowledge, and then apologises to you! mr sullivan, i'm afraid that your head is not right this morning." "indeed, madam, i only wish that your heart was as sound," replied the husband with a sneer; "but, madam, i am not quite blind. an honest woman--a virtuous woman, mrs sullivan, would have immediately acquainted her husband with what had passed--not have concealed it; still less have had the effrontery to deny it, when acknowledged by her _paramour_." "_paramour_!" cried the lady, with an hysterical laugh; "mr sullivan! when i select a _paramour_, it shall be a handsome young man--not an old, yellow-faced--" "pshaw, madam! there's no accounting for taste; when once a woman deviates from the right path--" "right path! if ever i deviated from the right path, as you call it, it was when i married such a wretch as you! yes, sir! continued the lady, bursting into tears, i tell it you now--my life has been a torment to me ever since i married (sobbing)--always suspected for nothing (sob, sob)--jealous, detestable temper (sob)--go to my friends (sob)-- hereafter may repent (sob)--then know what you've lost" (sob, sob, sob). "and, madam," replied mr sullivan, "so may you also know what you have lost, before a few hours have passed away; then, madam, the time may come when the veil of folly will be rent from your eyes, and your conduct appear in all its deformity. farewell, madam--perhaps for ever!" the lady made no reply; mr sullivan quitted the room, and, repairing to his counting-house, wrote a challenge to the colonel, and confided the delivery of it to one of his friends, who unwillingly accepted the office of second. volume two, chapter seventeen. he's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer the worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs his outsides; to wear them, like his raiment, carelessly, and ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, to bring it into danger. shakespeare. the colonel, in the meantime, had returned to the house where he was residing, when he was immediately accosted by captain carrington, and the other gentlemen who had been let into the secret of the plot. during his walk home the colonel had been ruminating on his dismissal, and had not quite made up his mind whether he ought or ought not to resent the conduct of mr sullivan. naturally more inclined for peace than war, by the time that he arrived home he had resolved to pocket the affront, when captain carrington called him on one side, and obtained from him a recapitulation of what had passed; which probably never would have been given if the colonel had not considered the communication as confidential. this, however, did not suit the intentions of captain carrington, who felt inclined for more mischief; and when the colonel had concluded his narrative, he replied, "upon my word, colonel, as you observe, this conduct on the part of mr sullivan, is not exactly what can be permitted by us military men. i hardly know bow to advise; indeed i would not take the responsibility; however, i will consult with mr s--- and mr g---, and if you will leave your honour in our hands, depend upon it we will do you strict justice:" and captain carrington quitted the colonel, who would have expostulated, and, walking up to the other gentlemen, entered into a recapitulation of the circumstances. a wink of his eye, as his back was turned to the colonel, fully expressed to the others the tenor of the advice which they were to offer. "well, gentlemen, what is your opinion?" said the captain, as he concluded his narrative. "i think," replied mr s---, with a serious face, "there can be but one--our gallant friend has been most grossly insulted. i think," continued he, addressing the colonel, who had quitted the sofa, in his anxiety to know the issue of their debate, "that i should most decidedly ask him what he meant." "or rather demand an apology," observed mr g---. "which mr sullivan as a man of honour is bound to offer, and the colonel as a gentleman and an officer has a right to insist upon. do you not think so, captain carrington?" said mr s---. "why, i always have been more inclined to be a peacemaker than otherwise, if i can," replied captain carrington. "if our gallant friend the colonel is not sure that mr sullivan did use the words, `i won't trouble you to call again,'--are you positive as to the exact words, colonel?" "why, to the best of my recollection," replied the colonel, "i rather think those were the words.--i may be mistaken:--it was certainly--most certainly--something to that effect." "were they, `requesting you to call again?'" said captain carrington. "no, no,--that they certainly were not." "well, they could be but one or the other.--then, gentlemen, the case is clear--the words were uttered," said mr s---, "now, captain carrington, what would you advise?" "i really am vexed to say, that i do not see how our friend, colonel ellice, can do otherwise than demand an apology, or a meeting." "could not i treat him with contempt, captain carrington?" demanded the colonel. "why, not exactly," replied mr s---. "sullivan is of good family; the sullivans of bally cum poop. he was some time in the th regiment, and was obliged to retire from it for challenging his colonel." "well, gentlemen," replied the colonel, "i suppose i must leave my honour in your hands, although it does appear to me that our time is very short for such arrangements. we sail early to-morrow morning; captain carrington; at daylight, i think you said, and it will be too late to-night." "my dear colonel, i will risk a rebuke from the admiralty," replied the captain, "rather than not allow you to heal your wounded honour. i will stay till the day after to-morrow, should it be requisite for the arrangement of this business." "thank you: many thanks," replied the colonel, with an expression of disappointment. "then i had better prepare the letter?" "carta por senhor commandante," interrupted a portuguese, presenting a letter to the colonel; "o senhor embaixo; queir risposta." the colonel opened the letter, which contained mr sullivan's challenge,--pistols--to-morrow morn, at daylight--one mile on the road to machico. the colonel's countenance changed two or three shades less yellow as he read the contents: recovering himself with a giggle, he handed the letter to captain carrington. "you see, captain, the gentleman has saved me the trouble--he, he, he! these little affairs are common to gentlemen of our profession--he, he! and since the gentleman wishes it, why, i presume--he, he! that we must not disappoint him." "since you are both of one mind, i think there will be some business done," observed mr s---. "i perceive that he is in earnest by the place named for the meeting. we generally settle our affairs of honour in the loo-fields; but i suppose he is afraid of interruption.--they want an answer, colonel." "oh! he shall have one," replied the colonel, tittering with excitement; "he shall have one. what hour does he say?" "oh! we will arrange all that. come, colonel," said captain carrington, taking him familiarly by the arm, and leading him away. the answer was despatched, and they sat down to dinner. many were the friendly and encouraging glasses of wine drank with the colonel, who recovered his confidence, and was then most assiduous in his attentions to the ladies to prove his perfect indifference. he retired at an early hour nevertheless. in the mean time mr sullivan had received the answer, and had retired to his counting-house, to arrange his affairs in case of accident. he had not seen his wife since the fracas. and now we will leave them both for awhile, and make a few remarks upon duelling. most people lament, many abuse the custom as barbarous; but barbarous it is not, or it would not be necessary in a state of high civilisation. it is true that by the practice we offend laws human and divine; but at the same time, it must be acknowledged, that neither law nor religion can keep society in such good order, or so restrain crime. the man who would defy the penalty of the law, and the commandments of his god against seduction, will, however pause in his career when he finds that there are brothers to avenge an injured sister. and why so?--because in this world we live as it were in a tavern, careless of what the bill is which we run up, but dreading the day of reckoning, which the pistol of our adversary may bring at once. thus duelling may be considered as a necessary evil, arising out of our wickedness; a crime in itself rare in occurrence, but which prevents others of equal magnitude from occurring every day; and until the world is reformed, nothing can prevent it. men will ever be governed by the estimation of the world: and until the whole world decide against duelling--until it has become the usage to offer the other cheek upon the first having been smitten, then, and not till then, will the practice be discontinued. when a man refuses to fight a duel, he is stigmatised as a coward, his company is shunned; and, unless he is a wretch without feeling, his life becomes a burden. men have refused from purely conscientious motives, and have subsequently found themselves so miserable from the neglect and contumely of the world, that they have _backslided_, and have fought to recover their place in society. there have been some few, very few, who, having refused from conscientious motives, have adhered to these resolutions, because they feared god and not man. there was more courage in their refusal than if they had run the gauntlet of a hundred duels; a moral courage, which is most rare, preferring the contempt of man to the wrath of god. it is, however, the most trying situation on this side of the grave. to refuse to fight a duel, is in fact to obey the stern injunction, "leave all, and follow me." for my part, i never have and never will fight a duel, if i can help it. i have a double motive for my refusal; in the first place, i am afraid to offend the deity; and in the next, i am afraid of being shot. i have therefore made up my mind never to meet a man except upon what i consider fair terms; for when a man stakes his life, the gambling becomes rather serious, and an equal value should be laid down by each party. if, then, a man is not so big--not of equal consequence in the consideration of his fellow mites--not married, with five small children, as i am--not having so much to lose--why it is clear that i risk more than he does; the stake is not equal, and i therefore shall not meet him. if, on the contrary, he presents a broader target,--if he is my superior in rank, more patriarchal at home, or has so many hundreds per annum more, why then the disadvantages will be on his side; and i trust i am too much of a gentleman, even if he offers to waive all these considerations, to permit him to fight. it would be _swindling_ the man out of his life. the best advice i can offer to my friends under these unpleasant circumstances is, first to try if they cannot persuade their adversaries to make an apology: and if he will not, why then let them make one themselves; for although the making an apology creates a very uneasy sensation, and goes very much _against_ the stomach, yet, depend upon it, a well-directed bullet creates a much more uneasy feeling, and, what is worse, goes _directly into it_. we left mrs sullivan sobbing in her anger, when her husband bounded out of the room in his heroics. at the time that he made the threat she was in no humour to regard it; but as her anger gradually subsided, so did her alarm increase. notwithstanding that she was a coquette, she was as warmly attached to her husband as he was to her; if she trifled, it was only for her amusement, and to attract that meed of admiration to which she had been accustomed previous to her marriage, and which no woman can renounce on her first entry into that state. men cannot easily pardon jealousy in their wives; but women are more lenient towards their husbands. love, hand-in-hand with confidence, is the more endearing; yet, when confidence happens to be out of the way, love will sometimes associate with jealousy; still, as this disagreeable companion proves that love is present, and as his presence is what a woman and all a woman asks, she suffers jealousy, nay, sometimes even becomes partial to him for the sake of love. now that mrs sullivan had been most unjustly accused, the reader must know, and moreover, that she had great reason to feel irritated. when her tears had subsided, for some time she continued in her chair, awaiting with predetermined dignity the appearance and apology of mr sullivan. after some time had elapsed, she wondered why he did not come. dinner was announced, and she certainly expected to meet him then, and she waited for some minutes to see if he would not take this opportunity of coming up to her;--but no. she then presumed that he was still in the sulks, and had sat down to table without her, and therefore, as he would not come--why, she went; but he was not at the table. every minute she expected him:--had he been told?--where was he?--he was in the counting-house, was the reply. mrs sullivan swallowed a few mouthfuls, and then returned up stairs. tea was made-- announced to mr sullivan, yet he came not. it remained on the table; the cup poured out for him was cold. the urn had been sent down, with strict injunctions to keep the water boiling, and all was cleared away. mrs sullivan fidgeted and ruminated, and became uneasy. he never had been at variance for so many hours since their marriage, and all for nothing! at last the clock struck ten, and she rang the bell.--"where was mr sullivan?"--"in the counting-house."--"tell him that i wish to speak with him." mr sullivan had not answered him, and the door was locked inside. this intelligence created a little irritation, and checked the tide of affection. "before all the servants--so inconsiderate--it was quite insulting!" with a heavy heart, mrs sullivan lighted the chamber candle, and went up stairs to bed. once she turned down the stairs two or three steps, intending to go to the counting-house door; but her pride restrained her, and she re-ascended. in an hour mrs sullivan was in bed, expecting her husband every minute, listening at the slightest sound for his footstep; but two o'clock came and he was still away. she could bear up against her suspense and agitation no longer; she rose, threw on her _robe de nuit_, and descended the stairs. all the family had long retired, and every thing was still: her light foot made no noise as she tripped along. as she neared the door, she perceived the light gleaming through the key-hole. whether to peep or to speak first--he might be fast asleep. curiosity prevailed--she looked through the key-hole, and perceived her husband very busy writing. after he had finished his letter he threw down the pen, pressed his forehead with both hands, and groaned deeply. mrs sullivan could refrain no longer. "william! william!" cried she, in a soft imploring voice: but she was not answered. again and again did she repeat his name, until an answer, evidently wrung from him by impatience, was returned--"it is too late now." "too late, dear william! yes, it is very late, it's almost three o'clock. let me in william,--pray do!" "leave me alone: it's the last favour i probably shall ever request of you." "the last favour! oh, william! you frighten me so:--dear william--do-- do let me in. i'm so cold, i shall die:--only for one moment, and i'll bless you. pray do, william!" it was not until after repeated and repeated entreaties of this kind, that mr sullivan, worn out by importunity, at last opened the door. "mary, i am very busy; i have opened the door to tell you so, and to request that you will not interrupt me. now oblige me by going to bed." but getting in was every thing; and a young and pretty wife, in dishabille and in tears, imploring, entreating, conjuring, promising, coaxing, and fondling, is not quite so easy to be detached when once she has gained access. in less than half an hour mr sullivan was obliged to confess that her conduct had been the occasion of a meeting being agreed for upon that morning, and that he was arranging his affairs in case of a melancholy termination. "you now, mary, must see the consequences of your conduct. by your imprudence, your husband's life is risked, probably sacrificed; but this is no time to be at variance. i forgive you, mary,--from my soul, i do, as i hope for pardon myself." mrs sullivan burst into a paroxysm of tears; and it was some time before she could answer. "william," cried she energetically, "as you well say, this is no time to be at variance, neither is it a time for falsehood. what i stated to you this morning was true:--if not, may i never hope for pardon! and may heaven never be opened to me! you have been deceived, grossly deceived; for what purpose, i know not; but so it is. do not therefore be rash. send for all who were present, and examine them; and if i have told you a falsehood, put me away from you, to the shame and seclusion i shall so well deserve." "it is too late, mary; i have challenged him, and he has accepted it. i fain would believe you; but he told me so himself." "then he told a lie! a base cowardly lie! which sinks him beneath the notice of a gentleman. let me go with you and confront him. only let him dare to say it to my face: 'tis all i ask, william, that i may clear my fame with you. come to bed--nay, nay, don't refuse me;" and poor mrs sullivan again burst into tears. we must leave the couple to pass the remaining hours in misery, which, however, reclaimed them both from faults. mrs sullivan never coquetted more, and her husband was, after this, never jealous but on trifles. the colonel was just as busy on his side, in preparing for the chances of the morrow: these chances however were never tried; for captain carrington and his confederates had made their arrangements. mr sullivan was already dressed, his wife clinging to him in frantic despair, when a letter was left at his door, the purport of which was that colonel ellice had discovered that his companions had been joking with him, when they had asserted that during his state of inebriety, he had offered any rudeness to mrs sullivan. as therefore no offence had been committed, colonel ellice took it for granted that mr sullivan would be satisfied with the explanation. mrs sullivan, who devoured the writing over her husband's shoulder, sunk down on her knees in gratitude, and was raised to her husband's arms, who, as he embraced her, acknowledged his injustice. the same party who wrote this epistle also framed another in imitation of mr sullivan's hand-writing, in which mr sullivan acquainted the colonel, that having been informed by a mutual friend that he had been in error relative to colonel ellice's behaviour of the night before, he begged to withdraw the challenge, and apologise for having suspected the colonel of incivility, etcetera. that having been informed that colonel ellice embarked at an early hour, he regretted that he would not be able to pay his respects to him, and assure him, etcetera. the receipt of this letter, just as the colonel had finished a cup of coffee, preparatory to starting, made him, as a single man, quite as happy as the married couple; he hastened to put the letter into the hands of captain carrington, little thinking that he was handing it over to the writer. "you observe, captain carrington, he won't come to the scratch. perhaps as well for him that he does not," said the colonel, chuckling in his glee. the breakfast was early; the colonel talked big, and explained the whole affair to the ladies, quite unconscious that every one in the company knew that the hoax had been played upon him. before noon, every one had re-embarked on board of their respective ships, and their lofty sails were expanded to a light and favouring breeze. volume two, chapter eighteen. _isabel_. any where to avoid matrimony: the thought of a husband is terrible to me. _inis_. but if you might choose for yourself, i fancy matrimony would be no such frightful thing to you. _the wonder_. the boadicea, with the indiamen, proceeded on to their destination, captain carrington taking every opportunity which light winds and smooth water afforded him, of paying his respects to the ladies on board of the bombay castle, or of inviting them on board of the frigate. the fact was, that he had fallen most desperately in love with isabel revel, and paid her the most marked attention; but, although a pleasant, light-hearted companion, and a young man of good family and prospects, isabel revel had not fallen in love with him: she liked his company, but nothing more. in a month the squadron had arrived at the island of st. helena, to which captain carrington had been ordered to convey them: his directions were then to cruise in a certain latitude, and ultimately to proceed on to the east indies, if he did not fall in with the vessels he expected. it was, therefore, but parting to meet again; but during the short time that they refitted and completed their water at st. helena, captain carrington proposed, and was politely refused by isabel revel. impatient as a boy who has been denied his plaything, he ordered his stores immediately on board, and the next day quitted the island. it may appear strange that a young lady, obviously sent out on speculation, should have refused so advantageous an offer; for the speculation commences with the voyage. some ladies are selected at madeira. since the cape has been in our possession, several have been induced to stay in that colony; and very often ships arrive with only the _refuse_ of their cargo; for the intended market in the east. but isabel revel had consented to embark on the score of filial duty, not to obtain a husband unless she liked the gentleman who proposed; and captain carrington did not happen to come up to her fanciful ideas of the person to be chosen for life. captain carrington did not impart the intelligence of his ill success to any one but newton, who was employed to carry his farewell message. his secret was faithfully kept by both. isabel revel was not one of those young ladies who would make use of such an unworthy advantage to heighten her consequence in the eyes of others. but there was another reason, not exactly known to isabel herself at the time, which prevented her from listening to the proposals of captain carrington. had she questioned her own heart, she would have discovered that she was prepossessed in favour of one, who as unconsciously had become attached to her. he knew his own feelings, but had checked them in the bud, aware that he had nothing to offer but himself. this person was newton forster. his intimacy with captain carrington, the attention shown him by captain drawlock, (who trusted him to work the chronometers!!) his own excellent character and handsome person, had raised him to more importance than his situation as a junior officer would have warranted; and his behaviour was such as to have secured him the good-will of every one on board of the ship. newton's unassuming frank manner, added to a large stock of general information, occasioned his society to be courted, even by those who would otherwise have been inclined to keep at a distance one in his subordinate rank. when they arrived at st. helena, the first-mate, for a wonder, no longer made any difficulty of going on shore for an hour or two, if he knew that newton would be the commanding officer during his absence; nay, so high did he stand in the opinion of his captain, that nut only was he permitted to take charge of the chronometers, but, if called away for a time below, captain drawlock would hand over to newton's charge any one of the unmarried _responsibilities_, who might happen to be leaning on his arm. the indiamen being now left to protect themselves, the senior officer, commodore bottlecock, issued most elaborate memoranda, as to the order of sailing, exercise of the men at the great guns and small arms, and every other point which could tend to their security by due preparation. nevertheless, the ladies continued to appear on deck. mrs ferguson sat in her majesty; the young ladies tittered, and were reprimanded; the young gentlemen were facetious, and were rebuked; the old colonel talked of his adventure at madeira, and compared every thing to the spent ball at the battle of ---. dr plausible had become a most assiduous attendant upon miss tavistock, ever since he had satisfactorily ascertained that she had property of her own; every body had become intimate; every one was becoming tired, when the bearings and distance at noon placed them about two hundred miles from point de galle, the southernmost extremity of ceylon. the wind was fresh and fair, and they congratulated each other upon a speedy termination to their tedious voyage. dinner was announced by the old tune of "oh! the roast beef of old england;" and during a long voyage the announcement of dinner is a very great relief every way. as had been the invariable rule throughout the whole of the voyage, miss charlotte and miss laura revel were placed on the one side of captain drawlock, miss tavistock and isabel revel on the other. they were flanked on the other side by mrs and mr ferguson, who thus separated them from any undue collision with the gentlemen passengers or officers of the ship. the colonel was placed next to mrs ferguson, the young writer next to her husband; then the two cadets, supported by the doctor and purser, the remainder of the table being filled up with the officers of the ship, with the first-mate at the foot. such was the order of captain drawlock's dinner--sailing; as strictly adhered to as the memoranda of commodore bottlecock: the only communication permitted with the young ladies under his charge (unless married men) being to "request the honour of drinking a glass of wine with them." all this may appear very absurd; but a little reflection will convince the reader to the contrary. there is a serious responsibility on a captain of an indiaman, who takes charge of perhaps a dozen young women, who are to be cooped up for months in the same ship with as many young men. love, powerful every where, has on the waters even more potent sway, hereditary i presume, from his mother's nativity. idleness is the friend of love; and passengers have little or nothing to do to while away the tedium of a voyage. in another point, he has great advantage, from the limited number of the fair sex. in a ball or in general society, a man may see hundreds of women, admire many, yet fall in love with none. numbers increase the difficulty of choice, and he remains delighted, but not enslaved. but on board of a ship, the continued presence of one whom he admires by comparison out of the few,--one who, perhaps, if on shore, would in a short time be eclipsed by another, but who here shines without competition,--gives her an advantage which, assisted by idleness and opportunity, magnifies her attractions, and sharpens the arrow of all-conquering love. captain drawlock perhaps knew this from experience; he knew also that the friends of one party, if not of both, might be displeased by any contract formed when under his surveillance, and that his character and the character of his ship (for ships now-a-days have characters, and very much depend upon them for their well doing) might suffer in consequence. strict as he might therefore appear, he was only doing his duty. grace being requested from mr ferguson, he indulged the company with one quite as long as usual; rather too long considering that the ship was very unsteady, and the ladies had to cling to the table for support. but mr ferguson was not a sailor, or he would have known that it is the custom to reduce the grace in proportion with the canvass. when the royals are set, we submit to a homily; under double-reefed topsails, a blessing; but under storm stay-sails, an ejaculation is considered as orthodox. "mrs ferguson, will you permit me to send you a little mulligatawney? said captain drawlock. if you prefer it, there is sheep's-head broth at the other end of the table." "then i will take a little of the broth, if you please, captain drawlock." "mr mathews, mrs ferguson will take some broth. i am sorry, mrs ferguson, that our table is so ill-supplied; but a long voyage and bad weather has been very fatal to our hen-coops." "indeed, captain drawlock, you need not apologise." nor was there any occasion, for the table was loaded. "perhaps miss laura revel will permit me to send her a slice of this mutton?" said the obsequious colonel. "no, i thank you; i have eaten nothing but mutton lately. i think i shall be a sheep myself soon," added the young lady, tittering. "that would be very much against your inclination, i should think, miss laura," observed mrs ferguson, tartly. "la! why so? how do you know, mrs ferguson?" "because a sheep never changes its name until after it is dead. i shrewdly suspect you would like to change yours before."--(this was a hard hit.) "as you have yours, mrs ferguson," quietly answered isabel, in support of her sister. "very fair on both sides," said the colonel, bowing to the ladies, who sat together. "pray miss laura, don't talk of being a sheep, we are all ready to devour you as it is." "la! you don't say so?" replied the young lady, much pleased. "colonel ellice," interrupted captain drawlock, with a serious air, "several of the company will thank you to carve that joint, when you have finished paying your compliments. miss tavistock, the honour of a glass of wine. we have not had the pleasure of your company on deck to-day." "no, captain drawlock. i did intend to come, but my health is in such a delicate state, that by the advice of dr plausible i remained below." "miss tavistock will you allow me to send you some mutton?" "if you please, colonel; a very small slice." "mr forster, what have you in that dish before you?" "a chicken, captain drawlock." "miss isabel revel, will you take some chicken?" "no, i thank you, captain drawlock," replied isabel. "did you say yes or no?" inquired newton, who had caught her eye. "i'll change my mind," said isabel, smiling. now, i know it for a fact, although i shall not give up my authority, that isabel revel never wanted any chicken until she perceiveth that newton was to help her. so, if love occasionally takes away the appetite, let us do him justice--he sometimes creates one. "miss tavistock, allow me to send you a little of this turkey," said dr plausible; "it is easy of digestion." "if you please, doctor," replied miss tavistock, cramming the last mouthful of mutton into her mouth, and sending away her plate to be changed. "will you not take a little ham with it, miss tavistock?" said captain drawlock. "if you please, sir." "the honour of a glass of wine, miss tavistock," said the colonel. "with pleasure, sir." "miss charlotte revel, you have really eaten nothing," said captain drawlock. "that proves you have not paid me the least attention," replied the young lady. "had you honoured me with a single glance during dinner, you could not but have observed that i have been dining very heartily." "i really am quite shocked, miss charlotte, and bow to your reproof. will you take a glass of wine with me in reconciliation?" "i consider a glass of madeira a very poor bribe, sir." "well, then, miss charlotte, it shall be champagne," replied captain drawlock, in his gallantry. "steward, champagne." a fortunate hit for the company, as champagne was in general only produced upon what sailors call `clean shirt days,' viz. sundays and thursdays. "we are highly indebted to miss revel," observed the colonel, bowing to her; "and i think we ought to drink her health in a bumper." agreed to, _nem con_. champagne, thou darling of my heart! to stupefy oneself with other wines, is brutal; but to raise oneself to the seventh heaven with thee, is quite ethereal. the soul appears to spurn the body, and take a transient flight without its dull associate--the--the--broke down, by jupiter! all i meant to say was, that champagne is very pretty _tipple_; and so thought the dinner party, who were proportionally enlivened. "is this orthodox, mr ferguson?" inquired the colonel, holding up his glass. "so far orthodox, that it is very good; and what is orthodox is good," replied the divine, with good-humour. "the asia has made the signal for `a strange sail--suspicious,'" said the second-mate to captain drawlock, putting his head into the cabin. "very well, mr jones, keep a glass upon the commodore." "mrs ferguson, will you take some of this tart? damascene, i believe," said the first-mate. "if you please, mr mathews.--did not mr jones say suspicious?--what does that imply?" "imply, madam; why that he don't like the cut of her jib!" "and pray what does that mean?" "mean, madam; why, that for all he knows to the contrary, she may be a french frigate." "a french frigate! a french frigate! o dear! o dear!" cried two or three ladies at a breath. "mr mathews," said captain drawlock, "i am really surprised at your indiscretion. you have alarmed the ladies. a suspicious sail, mrs ferguson, merely implies--in fact, that they do not know what she is." "is that _all_ it means?" replied mrs ferguson, with an incredulous look. "nothing more, madam; nothing more, i assure you." "commodore has made a signal that strange vessel is a man-of-war bearing down," said the second-mate, again entering the cabin. "very well, mr jones," said captain drawlock, with assumed indifference, but at the same time fidgeting on his chair. the first-mate and newton immediately quitted the cabin. "miss tavistock, will you take a little of this pudding?" "if you please, sir, a very little." "a man-of-war! i'll go and have a look at her," said the colonel; who rose up, bowed to the ladies, and left the cuddy. "most probably one of our cruisers," observed captain drawlock. "the commodore has made the signal to prepare for action, sir," said the second-mate. "very well, mr jones," said captain drawlock, who could now restrain himself no longer. "you must excuse me, ladies, for a moment or two, but our commodore is so _very_ prudent a man, and i am under his orders. in a short time i hope to return to the pleasure of your society." captain drawlock's departure was followed by that of all the male party, with the exception of doctor plausible and mr ferguson, both of whom however were anxious to go upon deck, and ascertain how matters stood. "mr ferguson, where are you going?" said his wife, sharply. "pray, sir, do us the favour to remain. your profession, if i mistake not, is one of peace." "oh! doctor plausible, i feel very unwell," cried miss tavistock. "i will stay with you, my dear madam," replied the doctor. a gun from the commodore's ship, which was close to windward of them, burst upon their ears, rattling the cabin windows, and making every wine-glass on the table to dance with the concussion. "oh! oh! oh!" screamed miss tavistock, throwing herself back in her chair, and expanding her arms and fingers. doctor plausible flew to the lady's assistance. "the extreme fineness of her organic structure--a little water, if you please, miss charlotte revel." a tumbler of water was poured out, and doctor plausible, dipping the tip of his fore-finger into it, passed it lightly over the lady's brows. "she will be better directly." but the lady did not think proper to _come to_ so soon as the doctor prophesied, and mrs ferguson, snatching up the tumbler, dashed the contents with violence in miss tavistock's face; at which miss tavistock not only revived, but jumped up from her chair, blowing and spluttering. "are you better now, miss tavistock?" said mrs ferguson, soothingly, at the same time glancing her eyes at the other ladies, who could not restrain their mirth. "oh! doctor plausible, that shock has so affected my nerves, i feel that i shall faint again, i do indeed--i'm going--" "lean upon me, miss tavistock, and permit me to conduct you to your cabin," replied the doctor; "the extreme delicacy of your constitution," continued he whispering as they left the cuddy, "is not equal to the boisterous remedies of mrs ferguson." as they went out, newton forster came in. "you must not be alarmed, ladies, when i state that i am commissioned by captain drawlock to inform you that the stranger's manoeuvres are so doubtful, that we think she is an enemy. he has desired me to request you will accept my convoy to the lower-deck, where you will be safe from accident, in the event of our coming to an engagement. mr ferguson, the captain intrusts the ladies to your charge, and requests that you will not leave them upon any consideration. now, mrs ferguson, will you permit me to escort you to a place of security?" at this intelligence laura revel stared, charlotte burst into tears, and isabel turned pale. mrs ferguson took the arm of newton without saying a word, when the other was offered and accepted by isabel. mr ferguson, with the two other sisters, brought up the rear. the ladies had to pass the quarter-deck, and when they saw the preparations, the guns cast loose, the shot lying on the deck, and all the various apparatus for destruction, their fears increased. when they had been conducted to their place of safety, newton was about to return on deck, when he was seized by miss charlotte and laura revel, who entreated him not to leave them. "do stay with us, mr forster; pray don't go," cried they both. "i must indeed, ladies; you are perfectly safe here." "for god's sake, don't you go away, mr forster!" cried laura, falling on her knees. "i shall die of fright.--you shan't go!" screamed laura, as the two sisters clung on to the skirts of his jacket, and effectually prevented his escape, unless, like the patriarch, he had left his garment behind. newton cast an appealing glance at isabel, who immediately interfered,--"charlotte, for shame! you are preventing mr forster from going to his duty. my dear laura, do not be so foolish; mr forster can be of no service to us: but he will be on deck. let go, laura." newton was released. "i am much obliged to you, miss isabel," said newton, with his foot on the ladder; "but i have no time now to express my thanks--not to be on deck--" "i know it, mr forster: go up, i beseech you, do not wait a moment;" and newton sprung up the ladder; but not before he had exchanged with isabel a glance, which, had he been deficient in courage, would have nerved him for the approaching combat. we must leave the ladies with mr ferguson (who had no pleasant office), while we follow newton on deck. the stranger had borne down with studding-sails, until within three miles of the india-men, when she rounded to. she then kept away a little, to close nearer, evidently examining the force opposed to her. the indiamen had formed the line of battle in close order, the private signal between english men-of-war and east india ships flying at their mast-heads. "extremely strange, that she does not answer the private signal," said the colonel to the second-mate. "not at all, if she don't know how." "you are convinced, then, that she is a french frigate?" "no, not positive; but i'll bet you ten to one she is:--bet off, if either of us are killed, of course!" "thanky; i never bet," answered the colonel, turning away. "what do you think of her, mr mathews?" said captain drawlock to the first-mate, who had his eye on the ship. "she is english built and english rigged, sir, that i'll swear; look at her lower yard-arms, the squaring of her topsails. she may be french now, but the oak in her timbers grew in old england." "i agree with you," said newton: look at the rake of her stern; she's english all over. "then why don't she answer the private signal?" said captain drawlock. "she's right in the wind's eye of us, sir, and our flags are blowing end on from her." "there goes up her bunting, sir," cried the first-mate. "english, as i said. the commodore is answering, sir. up with the ensign there abaft. all's right, tell the ladies." "i will; i'll go and inform them," said the colonel; who immediately descended to impart the joyful intelligence. the frigate bore down, and hove to. the commodore of the india squadron went on board, when he found that she was cruising for some large dutch store-ships and vessels armed _en flute_, which were supposed to have sailed from java. in a quarter of an hour, she again made sail, and parted company, leaving the indiamen to secure their guns, and pursue their course. there are two parties, whose proceedings we had overlooked; we refer to miss tavistock and dr plausible. the latter handed the lady to her cabin, eased her down upon her couch, and, taking her hand gently, retained it in his own, while with his other he continued to watch her pulse. "do not alarm yourself, my dear miss tavistock; your sensibility is immense. i will not leave you. i cannot think what could have induced you to trust yourself on such a voyage of danger and excitement." "oh! dr plausible, where my affections are centred, there is nothing, weak creature that i am, but my soul would carry me through:--indeed i am all soul.--i have a dear friend in india." "he is most happy," observed the doctor, with a sigh. "he, dr plausible! you quite shock me!--do you imagine for a moment that i would go out to follow any gentleman? no, indeed, i am not going out on speculation, as some young ladies:--i have enough of my own, thank god! i keep my carriage and corresponding establishment, i assure you."--(the very thing that dr plausible required.) "indeed! my dear miss tavistock, is it then really a female friend?" "yes! the friend of my childhood. i have ventured this tedious, dangerous voyage, once more to fold her in my arms." "disinterested affection! a heart like yours, miss, were indeed a treasure to be won. what a happy man would your husband be!" "husband! oh, dr plausible don't mention it: i feel convinced,-- positively convinced, that my constitution is not strong enough to bear matrimony." the doctor's answer was too prolix for insertion; it was a curious compound dissertation upon love and physic, united. there was devoted attention, extreme gentle treatment, study of pathology, advantage of medical attendance always at hand, careful nursing, extreme solicitude, fragility of constitution restored, propriety of enlarging the circle of her innocent affections, ending at last in devoted love, and a proposal--to share her carriage and establishment. miss tavistock assumed another faint--the shock was so great; but the doctor knelt by her, and kissed her hand, with well-affected rapture. at last, she murmured out a low assent, and fell back, as if exhausted with the effort. the doctor removed his lips from her hand to her mouth, to seal the contract; and, as she yielded to his wishes, almost regretted that he had not adhered to his previous less assuming gallantry. volume two, chapter nineteen. 'tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark, bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home; 'tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming--and look brighter when we come. byron. edward forster returned home with his little _protegee_, his mind relieved from the weight which had oppressed it: he knew that the word of his brother was his bond, and that under a rough exterior he concealed a generous and sympathising heart. it was in the early part of the autumn that he again took possession of the cottage; and as he once more seated himself in his old arm-chair, he mentally exclaimed, "here then am i again at anchor for a short time, until summoned to another world." his prophecy was correct; during the severe winter that followed, his wound opened again, and his constitution, worn out, gave way to repeated suffering. he had not been confined to his bed more than a fortnight when he felt that his end was approaching. he had long been prepared: nothing remained to be done but to write a letter to his brother, which he confided to robinson, the fisherman, with directions that it should be put into the post-office immediately after his death; and a strict charge to watch over the little girl, until she should be sent for by his brother. this last necessary act had been completed when robinson, who was standing by the side of the bed, with the letter in his hand, informed him that the family at the hall had returned from the continent on the evening before, with their only son, who was now restored to health. this intelligence induced forster to alter his plans; and trusting to the former friendship of lord aveleyn, he despatched robinson to the hall, stating his own condition, and requesting that his lordship would come to the cottage. lord aveleyn immediately obeyed the summons, and perceiving at the first glance that forster's situation debarred all chance of recovery, took upon himself with willingness the charge of the letter, and promised to receive amber into his house until it was convenient that she should be removed. it was dark when lord aveleyn, with melancholy foreboding, took his last farewell; for, ere the sun had risen again, the spirit of edward forster had regained its liberty, and soared to the empyrean, while the deserted amber wept and prayed. edward forster had not concealed from her the precarious tenure of his existence, and since their return from london had made her fully acquainted with all the particulars connected with her own history. the last few weeks, every interval of suffering had been devoted by him to enforce those principles which he ever had inculcated, and to prepare for the event which had now taken place. amber was kneeling by the side of the bed; she had been there so long, that she was not aware that it was broad day. her face laid upon her hands, was completely hid by her luxuriant hair, which had escaped from the confinement of the comb, when the door of the chamber of death was softly opened. amber, who either did not hear the noise, or thought it was the daughter of robinson, who lived as servant in the cottage, raised not her head. the steps continued to approach, then the sound ceased, and amber felt the arms of some one encircling her waist to raise her from her kneeling posture. she lifted up her head, and dividing the hair from her forehead, that she might see who it was, perceived that it was young aveleyn who was hanging over her. "my poor little girl!" said he in a tone of commiseration. "oh! william aveleyn," cried amber, bursting into a paroxysm of tears, as she was folded in his arms. the sorrow of youth is sympathetic, and william aveleyn, although seventeen years old, and fast advancing to manhood, did not disdain to mingle his tears with those of his former playmate. it was some time before he could persuade amber, who clung to him in her grief, to any degree of serenity. "amber, dear, you must come to us at the hall; this is no place for you now." "and why not, william? why should i leave so soon? i'm not afraid of being here, or lying by his side alone: i've seen other people die. i saw mrs beazeley die--i saw poor faithful die; and now, they _all_ are dead," said amber, bursting into tears, and burying her face in william aveleyn's bosom. "i knew that he was to die," said she, raising her head after a time--"he told me so; but, to think that i shall never hear him speak again--that very soon i shall never see him more--i must cry, william." "but your father is happy, amber." "_he_ is happy, i know; but he was not my father, william. i have no father--no friend on earth i know of. he told me all before he died; faithful brought me from the sea." this intelligence roused the curiosity of william aveleyn, who interrogated amber, and obtained from her the whole of the particulars communicated by edward forster; and, as she answered to his many questions, she grew more composed. the narrative had scarcely been finished, when lord aveleyn, who had been summoned by robinson, drove to the door, accompanied by lady aveleyn, who thought that her presence and persuasions would more readily induce amber to heave the cottage. convinced by her of the propriety of the proposal, amber was put into the carriage without resistance, and conveyed to the hall, where every thing that kindness and sympathy could suggest was resorted to, to assuage her grief. there we must leave her, and repair to the metropolis. "scratton," said mr john forster to his clerk, who had answered the bell, "recollect i cannot see any one to-day." "you have several appointments, sir," replied the clerk. "then send, and put them all off." "yes, sir; and if any one calls, i am to say that you are not at home?" "no, i am at home; why tell a lie? but i cannot see any body." the clerk shut the door; john forster put on his spectacles to reperuse the letter which lay before him. it was the one from edward, inclosed in a frank by lord aveleyn, with a few lines, announcing his brother's death, and stating that amber was at the hall, where they should be glad that she should remain until it was convenient to send for her. edward's letter repeated his thanks to his brother for his kind promise, and took a last and affectionate farewell. john forster struggled for a time with his feelings; but the more he attempted to repress them, the more violent they became. he was alone, and he gave them vent. the legal documents before him, arising from the bitterness of strife, were thus unusually moistened with a tribute to a brother's memory. but in a few moments the old lawyer was himself again; all traces of emotion had disappeared, and no one who had seen him then would ever have imagined that john forster could have been thus moved. the next day he was not as usual to be found at his chambers: the fact was, that he had set off immediately after breakfast, upon what is generally termed "house hunting." the apartments which he occupied in his chambers were not sufficient for the intended increase of his establishment; and when he had given his promise to edward, he was fully aware of the expense which would be entailed by receiving amber, and had made up his mind to incur it. he therefore fixed upon a convenient house in lincoln's-inn-fields, which would not detach him far from his chambers. having arranged for a lease of twelve years, john forster returned to his chambers. "scratton," said he, "look out for a man-servant, a cook, housemaid, and a steady woman, as housekeeper--good characters, and undeniable reference. the housekeeper must be a somewhat superior person, as she will have to take charge of a young miss, and i do not want her spoiled by keeping company with the general description of servants. do you understand?" scratton did; and in less than a month, as every thing is to be obtained for money in the city of london, the house was furnished by a city upholsterer in a plain way, and all the servants installed in their respective situations. mr john forster took possession of his new house, and tried for a week if all worked well. ascertaining that the furniture was complete, the under-servants well behaved, and the housekeeper a mild and very intelligent personage, fit to be intrusted with the charge of a little girl, he then wrote to lord aveleyn, reiterating the thanks conveyed in his former letter, and requesting that amber might be delivered into the charge of the bearer. with this letter mr scratton was despatched, and, in due time, arrived at the hall. amber wept bitterly at the idea of parting with those who had been so kind to her, and passing into the hands of one who was a stranger. having exacted a promise from william aveleyn that he would call as he passed through on his way to cambridge, she bade her kind friends farewell, entered the chaise in company with mr scratton, and was hurried off to london. mr scratton was one of those personages who never spoke except on business; and, having no business to transact with a girl of twelve years old, he never spoke at all except when necessity rendered it imperative. amber was therefore left to her own reflections. what they all were i cannot tell; but one certainly was, that travelling in a chaise for two days with mr scratton was not very agreeable. most happy was she when they drove up to the door of mr john forster's new habitation. the old gentleman, who had calculated the hour of her arrival after the receipt of a letter from her companion, was there to receive her. amber, who had been prepossessed in his favour by edward forster, who had told her that in his brother she would find a protector and indulgent parent, ran up to him when she entered the room, and burst into tears as the injunctions of edward forster returned to her memory. john forster took her in his arms, and kissed her. "my little girl," said he, "what my brother was, such will i be to you. consider me as your father; for his memory, and i hope soon, for your own sake, i shall rejoice to be so." after an hour, by which time amber had recovered her serenity, and become almost cheerful, she was consigned to the charge of mrs smith the housekeeper, and john forster hastened back to his chambers and his clients, to make up for so much lost time. it was not long before the old gentleman discovered that the trouble and expense which he had incurred to please his brother was the occasion of pleasure and gratification. he no longer felt isolated in the world: in short, he had a _home_, where a beaming eye met his return, and an affectionate heart ministered to his wishes; where his well-known rap at the door was a source of delight, and his departure one of regret. in a few months amber had entwined herself round the old man's heart; the best masters were procured for her, and all the affection of a doting parent upon an only child was bestowed by him who, when the proposition was made, had declared that "it was bad enough to maintain children of one's own begetting." bless my soul! how poor authors are obliged to gallop about. now i must be off again to india, and get on board of the bombay castle. end of the second volume. volume three, chapter one. a green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, who, with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd the opening of his mouth. shakespeare. the bombay castle arrived at madras without further adventure. a few hours after she had anchored, all the passengers, receiving kind messages from, or escorted on shore by their relatives or consignees, had landed; all, with the exception of the three miss revels, whose anxiety to land was increased by the departure of the others, and the unpleasant situation in which they were placed, by remaining a clog upon captain drawlock, who would not quit his ship until he had surrendered up his charge. by inquiry of the dubashes, captain drawlock found out that an old colonel revel was residing at his bungalo, about two miles distant from the fort, and supposing him not to be aware of the arrival of his grand-nieces, he despatched newton forster to acquaint him with the circumstance. it was late in the afternoon when newton arrived at the residence of the colonel, when he perceived immediately that every thing was on the establishment of an old indian nabob. a double set of palanquin-bearers were stretched under the verandas; syces were fanning the horses with their chowries; tailors and various craftsmen were at work in the shade, while a herd of consumers, butlers, and other indian domestics, were loitering about, or very busy doing nothing. it will be necessary, before newton is introduced to the colonel, that the colonel should be introduced to the reader. he was a man of nearly sixty years of age, forty-five of which, with the exception of occasional furlough, had been passed in the country. having held several lucrative situations for many years, and, although not parsimonious, being very prudent in money concerns, he had amassed a very large fortune. more than once he had returned to england on leave, and with the full intention of remaining there, if he could be comfortable; but a few months in his native country only made him more anxious to return to india. his habits, his tastes were all eastern; the close hospitality, the cold winter of england, the loss of consequence, naturally resulting when a man mixes in the crowd of london, all disgusted him, and he invariably returned to india long before his furlough had expired. he was a bachelor from choice. when young he had been very cruelly treated by the object of his admiration, who deserted him for a few lacks of rupees, which offered themselves with an old man as their appendage. this had raised his bile against the sex in general, whom he considered as mercenary and treacherous. his parties were numerous and expensive: but women were never to be seen in his house; and his confirmed dislike to them was the occasion of his seldom visiting, except with those who were like himself, in a state of happy singleness. in other points, he was a liberal, worthy man, and a perfect gentleman, but extremely choleric in his disposition. newton addressed himself to one of the butlers, requesting to be announced. the man led the way to a spacious hall, coated and floored with chunam, when newton perceived the colonel, who presented rather a singular spectacle. "burra saib; saib," said the indian; and immediately retired. the colonel was a tall gaunt man, with high cheek-bones, bushy eyebrows, and white hair. he was seated on a solitary chair in the centre of the hall; his dress consisting of a pair of white nankeen trousers and a white shirt, the sleeves of the latter tucked up to his shoulders, and exposing sinewey arms, covered with hair. by his side lay a basket of mangoes, and before his chair a large tub of water. as newton entered, he had an opportunity of witnessing the most approved method of eating this exquisite fruit. the colonel had then one as large as a cassowary's egg, held in both hands, and applied to his mouth, while he held his head over the tub of water, to catch the superabundant juice which flowed over his face, hands, and arms, and covered them with a yellow stain. the contents of the mango were soon exhausted; the stone and pulp were dropped into the tub of water, and the colonel's hand was extended to the basket for a repetition of his luxurious feast, when newton was announced. newton was sorry to interrupt him, and would have made an apology, had he not observed that the colonel, whose back was towards him, continued his pleasing avocation: the fact was, that the colonel was so intent upon his occupation, that he had neither heard the announcement, nor could he perceive newton, who thus had an opportunity of witnessing the demolition of at least two dozen more mangoes without the colonel having turned his eyes in that direction, or being aware that he was not alone. but something at length attracted the attention of newton, and induced him to come forward, and put an end to the colonel's repast. the colonel had just taken another mango out of the basket, when newton perceived a small snake wind itself over the rim, and curl up one of the feet of the colonel's chair, in such a position that the very next time that the colonel reached out his hand, he must have come in contact with the reptile. newton hardly knew how to act; the slightest movement of the old gentleman might be fatal to him; he therefore walked up softly, and was about to strike the animal on the head with his stick, when the colonel, as he leant over the tub, half rose from the chair. in an instant, newton snatched it from under him, and jerked it, with the snake, to the corner of the hall. the colonel, whose centre of gravity had not been sufficiently forward to enable him to keep his feet, fell backward, when newton and he both rolled on the floor together; and also both recovered their legs at the same time. "you'll excuse me, sir," said newton. "i'll be damned if i do, sir!" interrupted the colonel, in a rage; "who the devil are you?--and how dare you presume to play off such impertinent jokes upon a stranger?--where did you come from, sir?--how did you get in, sir?" "is that a joke, sir?" replied newton, calmly pointing to the snake, which was still hissing in its wrath at the corner of the room where the chair lay. newton then briefly explained the circumstances. "sir, i beg your pardon a thousand times, and am very much your debtor. it is the most venomous snake that we have in the country. i trust you will accept my apology for a moment's irritation; and, at the same time, my sincere thanks." the colonel then summoned the servants, who provided themselves with bamboos, and soon despatched the object which had occasioned the misunderstanding. the colonel then apologised to newton, while he repaired to the bath, and in a few minutes returned, having undergone the necessary ablution after a mango feast. his dress was changed, and he offered the appearance of an upright gentlemanlike, hard-featured man, who had apparently gone through a great deal of service without his stamina having been much impaired. "i beg your pardon, my dear sir, for detaining you. may i request the pleasure of your name, and the occasion of your providential visit." "i have a letter for you, sir," replied newton, who had been intrusted with the one which mr revel had given to his daughters on their embarkation. "oh! a letter of introduction. it is now quite superfluous; you have already introduced yourself." "no sir, it is not a letter of recommendation in my behalf; but to announce the arrival of your three grand-nieces--daughters of the honourable mr revel--in the bombay castle, the ship to which i belong." "what?" roared the colonel, "my three grand-nieces! daughters of mr revel!" "so i have understood from them, sir." the colonel tore open the letter, in which mr revel very coolly informed him that not having received any answer to his former epistles on the subject, he presumed that they had miscarried, and had therefore been induced in consequence of the difficulties which he laboured under to send his daughters out to his kind protection. the colonel, as soon as he had finished the perusal of the letter, tore it into pieces again and again, every renewed action showing an increase of excitement. he then threw the fragments on the floor, stamping upon them in an ecstasy of rage. "the damned scoundrel!--the villain!--the rascal!--do you know, sir, that when i was last in england, this fellow swindled me out of a thousand pounds? yes, sir, a thousand pounds, by god! promised to pay me in three weeks; and when i was coming back, and asked for my money, he laughed at me, and ordered his servant not to let me in. and now he has sent out his three daughters to me--pawned them off upon me, laughing i suppose in his sleeve, as he did when he cheated me before. i'll not receive them, by god! they may find their way back again how they can;" and the colonel paced the room up and down, throwing his arms about in his fury. newton waited some time before he ventured to make any observation; indeed he was so astonished at such unheard-of proceeding, and so shocked at the unfortunate situation of isabel, that he hardly knew what to say. "am i then to inform the young ladies that you will not receive them?" "you don't know me, sir.--when did i ever receive a woman into my house? they are all alike, sir.--plotted with their father, i'll answer for, with the hopes of getting husbands. tell them, sir, that i'll see them damned first--swindling scoundrel!--first cheats me out of a thousand pounds, and then tries to cheat me into providing for his family!" newton paused a little, to allow the colonel's wrath to subside, and then observed--"i never was so much distressed as to be the bearer of your message. the young ladies are certainly no parties to their father's dishonesty, and are in a situation much to be pitied. in a foreign country, thousands of miles from their friends, without means of subsistence, or of paying their passage home. what is to become of them?" "i don't care." "that your indignation is just, colonel revel, i admit;--but allowing that you will not receive them, how are they to return home? captain drawlock, i am sure, would give them a passage; but we proceed to china. poor girls!" continued newton, with a sigh. "i should like to make a remark, colonel revel, if it were not considered too great a liberty in a stranger." "you have already taken a liberty, which in all probability has saved my life. i shall be happy to listen to any remark that you may wish to offer." "it was, sir, that reprehensible as their father's conduct may be, common humanity, and a regard for your own character, will hardly warrant their being left thus destitute. they at least are your relations, and have neither offended nor deceived you; on the contrary, are, with you, joint victims of their father's deception." "you appear to take a great interest in these young ladies," observed the colonel, sharply. "if i had never seen them, sir, their present unfortunate dilemma would be sufficient. knowing them intimately as i do, i must say, that this intelligence will be to one; at least, a death-blow. i would to god that i were able to assist and to protect her!" "very handsome then i presume?" replied the colonel, with a sneer. "she certainly is, sir; but it was not admiration of her beauty which occasioned the remark. if you knew her, sir, you would be as sorry to part with her, as you now appear to be to receive her." the colonel continued to pace the room, but with less violence than before. newton observed this, and therefore was silent, hoping that reflection would induce him to alter his resolution. in a few minutes, apparently forgetting the presence of newton, the colonel commenced talking to himself aloud, muttering out the following detached phrases: "must take them in by god! couldn't show my face--nowhere--damned scoundrel! keep them here till next ship--till they are as yellow as gamboge, then send them home--revenge in that." thus did the old gentleman mutter loud enough for newton to overhear. a few minutes more were spent in perambulation, when he threw himself into the chair. "i think, my young acquaintance, you appear to be interested for these relations of mine; or at least for one of them." "i certainly am, sir; and so is every one who is acquainted with her." "well, i am glad to hear that there is one good out of the three. i have been put in a passion--no wonder; and i have said more than should be repeated. were it known that these girls had been sent out to me in this way, the laugh would be raised against me, as it is known that i am not very partial to women; and it would also be of serious injury to them and their prospects. i have determined upon receiving them, for the best of all possible reasons--i can't help myself. you will therefore add to the obligations of this day, by saying nothing about what has been made known to you." "most certainly, sir; i will pledge you my honour, if it is requested." "when i say not mention it, i mean to other parties; but to the girls, i must request you to state the facts. i will not have them come here, pawing and fondling, and wheedling me as an old bachelor, with a few lacks of rupees to be coaxed out of. it would make me sick; i detest women and their ways. now if they are informed of the real state of the case, that they are here only on sufferance; that i neither wished nor want them; and that i have been imposed upon by their scoundrel of a father, i may keep them at the other end of the bungalo, and not be annoyed with their company; until, upon plea of bad health, or some other excuse, i can pay their passage back again." "could you not state these facts yourself, sir?" "no, i never meddle with women; besides, it is better that they should know it before they come here. if you will promise me what i now request, why i will consent to give them house-room; if not, they may stay where they are. it will be but a few days laugh at me, or abuse of me, i care little which." "well, sir, unpleasant as this intelligence must be, their present suspense is still more so. you will allow me to disclose it in as delicate a manner as possible." "you may be as refined as you please, provided that you tell the exact truth, which i am convinced that you will, by your countenance." "then i will take my leave, sir," replied newton. "fare you well, my dear sir; recollect that my house is your home; and although not fond of the society of women, i shall be delighted with yours. the young ladies may be brought on shore to the hotel, and i will send a carriage for them. good-bye.--what is your name?" "forster, sir." "good-bye then, mr forster, for the present;" and the colonel quitted the room. volume three, chapter two. then there were sighs, the deeper for suppression, and stolen glances, sweeter for the theft, and burning blushes, though for no transgression. tremblings when met, and restlessness when left. all these are little preludes to possession, of which young passion cannot be bereft, and merely tend to show how greatly love is embarrassed, at first starting, with a novice. byron. it was in no very happy frame of mind that newton quitted the colonel's house to execute his mission to the miss revels. that the two eldest, provided they were admitted, would not much take to heart, either the conduct of their father, or the coolness of their relation, he was pretty well assured; but he was too well acquainted with isabel's character, not to know that she would deeply feel the humiliating situation in which she was placed, and that it would prey upon her generous and sensitive mind. as, however, there was no remedy, he almost congratulated himself that, as the colonel's message was to be delivered, the commission had been placed in his trust. captain drawlock, tired of waiting, had escorted the young ladies on shore to the hotel, anxiously expecting the arrival of newton, who was conducted there by a messenger despatched to intercept him. "well, mr forster, is it all right?" said captain drawlock, on his appearance. "the colonel's carriage will be here for the ladies in less than half an hour," replied newton, evasively. "then, miss revels, as i am extremely busy, i shall wish you good morning, and will have the pleasure of paying my respects before i sail. allow me to offer you my best thanks for your company during our voyage, and to assure you how much your presence has contributed to enliven it. forster, you will of course remain with the miss revels, and see them safe in the carriage;" and captain drawlock, who appeared to consider his responsibility over with the voyage, shook hands with them and quitted the hotel. "mr forster," said isabel, as soon as captain drawlock was out of hearing, "i am sure by your countenance that there has been something unpleasant. is it not so?" "i am sorry to answer in the affirmative, and more sorry to be forced to impart the cause." newton then entered into a detail of what had passed at the colonel's house. isabel listened to it with attention, her sisters with impatience. miss charlotte, with an air of consternation, inquired whether the colonel had refused to receive them: on being informed to the contrary, she appeared to be satisfied. laura simpered, and observed, "how very odd of papa!" and then seemed to think no more about it. isabel made no observation; she remained on her chair, apparently in deep and painful thought. a few minutes after the communication the colonel's carriage made its appearance, and newton proposed that they should quit the hotel. charlotte and laura were all ready and impatient, but isabel remained seated by the table. "come, isabel," cried charlotte. "i cannot go, my dear charlotte," replied isabel; "but do not let me prevent you or laura from deciding for yourselves." "not go!" cried the two sisters at once. isabel was firm; and newton, who did not think himself authorised to interfere, was a silent witness to the continued persuasions and expostulations of the two elder, and the refusal of the younger sister. nearly half an hour thus passed away when charlotte and laura decided that they would go, and send back the carriage for isabel, who by that time would have come to her senses. the heartless, unthinking girls tripped gaily down to the carriage, and drove off. newton, who had escorted them, retraced his steps, with a beating heart, to the room where he had left isabel. she was in tears. "do i intrude, miss revel?" said newton, who could not repress his emotion at the sight. "oh, no! i expected and wished that you would return, mr forster. do you think that you could find captain drawlock? i should feel much obliged if you would take that trouble for me." "i will immediately go in search of him, if you wish it. believe me, miss revel, i feel most sincerely for your situation; and, if it were not considered an impertinent question, i should ask you what may be your present intentions?" "acquainted as you are with all the circumstances, mr forster, the question is not impertinent, but kind. god knows that i require an adviser. i would, if possible, conceal the facts from captain drawlock. it is not for a daughter to publish a father's errors; but you know all, and i can therefore have no scruple in consulting with you: i do not see why i should. my resolution is, at best a hasty one; but it is, never to enter the house of my relation, under such humiliating circumstances--that is decided: but how to act, or what to do, is where i require advice. i am in a cruel situation. what a helpless creature is a woman! were i a man, i could have worked my passage home; or have honestly obtained my bread in this place; but a woman--a young and unprotected woman--in a distant clime, and without a friend--" "do not say that you are without a friend; one who has at least the will, if not the power to serve you," replied newton. "no--not without a friend; but what avails a friend whose assistance i could not accept? it is to captain drawlock, therefore, that i must apply, and, painful as it may be, throw myself upon his generosity; for that reason i wished to see him. he may advise some means by which i may obtain a passage home. i will return in any capacity, as a nurse to children, as an attendant--any thing that is creditable. i would watch over the couch of fever, pestilence, and plague, for months, rather than appear to be a party to my father's duplicity. oh! mr forster, what must you think of the daughters, after what you have heard of the parent's conduct?"--and isabel burst into tears. newton could contain himself no longer. "my dear miss revel, let me persuade you to compose yourself," said he, taking her hand, which was not withdrawn; "if you feel on this occasion, so do i most deeply;--most deeply, because i can only lament, and dare not offer to assist you. the means of returning to your own country, i can easily procure from captain drawlock; but would you accept it from me? i know--i cannot expect that you would; and that, under such circumstances, it would be insulting in me to offer it. think, then, what pain i must feel to witness your distress, and yet dare not offer to assist one for whom-- oh! my god--" ended newton, checking his feelings. "i feel the kindness and the delicacy of your conduct, mr forster; and i will candidly acknowledge, that, could i accept it, there is no one to whom i would more cheerfully be under an obligation; but the world will not permit it." "what shall i do, miss revel?--shall i go for captain drawlock?" "stay a little while, i wish to reflect. what would you advise? as a friend, tell me candidly, mr forster." "i am indeed proud that you allow me that title. it is all that i ever dare hope for;--but isabel--i beg your pardon, miss revel, i should have said--" "nay, nay, i am not displeased. why not isabel? we have known one another long enough, and deserted as i feel a kind word now."--isabel covered her face with her hand. newton, who was standing by her, was overcome by the intensity of his feelings; gradually they approached nearer, until by, i suppose, the same principle which holds the universe together, the attraction of cohesion, newton's arm encircled the waist of isabel, and she sobbed upon his shoulder. it was with difficulty that newton refrained from pouring out his soul, and expressing the ardent love which he had so long felt for her; but it was taking advantage of her situation. he had nothing to offer but himself and beggary. he did refrain. the words were not spoken; yet isabel divined his thoughts, appreciated his forbearance, and loved him more for his resolution. "isabel," said newton, at length, with a sigh, "i never valued or wished for wealth till now. till this hour i never felt the misery of being poor." "i believe you, mr forster; and i am grateful, as i know that it is for my sake that you feel it; but," continued she, recovering herself, "crying will do no good. i asked you for your advice, and you have only given me your arm." "i am afraid it is all i shall ever have to offer," replied newton. "but, isabel, allow me to ask you one question:--are you resolved never to enter your relation's house?" "not on the humiliating terms which he has proposed. let the colonel come here for me and take me home with him, and then i will remain there until i can return to england; if not, i will submit to any privation, to any honest humiliation, rather than enter under his roof. but indeed, mr forster, it is necessary that captain drawlock should be summoned. we are here alone: it is not correct: you must feel that it is not." "i do feel that it is not; but, isabel, i was this morning of some trifling service to the colonel, and may have some little weight with him. will you allow me to return to him and try what i can do? it will not be dark for these two hours, and i will soon be back." isabel assented. newton hastened to the colonel, who had already been much surprised when he had been informed by his domestics (for he had not seen them) that only two ladies had arrived. the old gentleman was now cool. the explanation and strong persuasions of newton, coupled with the spirited, behaviour of isabel, whose determination was made known to him, and which was so different from the general estimate he had formed of the sex, at last prevailed. the colonel ordered his carriage, and, in company with newton, drove to the hotel, made a sort of apology--a wonderful effort on his part, and requested his grand-niece to accept of his hospitality. in a few minutes isabel and the colonel were out of sight, and newton was left to his own reflections. a few days afterwards newton accepted the colonel's invitation to dine, when he found that affairs were going on better than he expected. the old gentleman had been severely quizzed by those who were intimate with him, at the addition to his establishment, and had winced not a little under the lash; but, on the whole, he appeared more reconciled than would have been expected. newton, however, observed that, when speaking of the three sisters, he invariably designated them as "my grand-niece, and the two other young women." volume three, chapter three. rich in the gems of india's gaudy zone, and plunder piled from kingdoms not their own, degenerate trade! thy minions could despise thy heart-born anguish of a thousand cries: could lock, with impious hands, their teeming store, while famish'd nations died along the shore; could mock the groans of fellow men, and bear the curse of kingdoms, peopled with despair; could stamp disgrace on man's polluted name, and barter with their gold eternal shame. campbell. gold!--gold! for thee, what will man not attempt? for thee, to what degradation will he not submit?--for thee, what will he not risk in this world, or prospectively in the next;--industry is rewarded by thee; enterprise is supported by thee; crime is cherished, and heaven itself is bartered for thee, thou powerful auxiliary of the devil! one tempter was sufficient for the fall of man; but thou wert added, that he ne'er might rise again. survey the empire of india; calculate the millions of acres, the billions with which it is peopled, and then pause while you ask yourself the question--how is it that a company of merchants claim it as their own? by what means did it come into their possession? honestly, they will reply. honestly! you went there as suppliants; you were received with kindness and hospitality, and your request was granted, by which you obtained a footing on the soil. now you are lords of countless acres, masters of millions, who live or perish as you will; receivers of enormous tribute.--why, how is this? honestly, again you say; by treaty, by surrender, by taking from those who would have destroyed us, the means of doing injury. honestly! say it again, that heaven may register, and hell may chuckle at your barefaced, impudent assertion. no! by every breach of faith which could disgrace an infidel; by every act of cruelty which could disgrace our nature; by extortion, by rapine, by injustice, by mockery of all laws or human or divine. the thirst for gold, and a golden country, led you on; and in these scorching regions you have raised the devil on his throne, and worshipped him in his proud pre-eminence as mammon. let us think. is not the thirst for gold a temptation to which our natures are doomed to be subjected--part of the ordeal which we have to pass? or why is it that there never is sufficient? it appears to be ordained by providence that this metal, obtained from the earth to feed the avarice of man, should again return to it. if all the precious ore which for a series of ages has been raised from the dark mine were now in tangible existence, how trifling would be its value! how inadequate as a medium of exchange for the other productions of nature, or of art! if all the diamonds and other precious stones which have been collected from the decomposed rocks (for hard as they once were, like all sublunary matter, they too yield to time), why, if all were remaining on the earth, the frolic gambols of the may-day sweep would shake about those gems, which now are to be found in profusion only where rank and beauty pay homage to the thrones of kings.--arts and manufactures consume a large proportion of the treasures of the mine, and as the objects fall into decay, so does the metal return to the earth again. but it is in eastern climes, where it is collected, that it soonest disappears. where the despot reigns, and the knowledge of an individual's wealth is sufficient warranty to seal his doom, it is to the care of the silent earth alone that the possessor will commit his treasures; he trusts not to relation or to friend, for gold is too powerful for human ties. it is but on his death-bed that he imparts the secret of his deposit to those he leaves behind him; often called away before he has time to make it known, reserving the fond secret till too late; still clinging to life, and all that makes life dear to him. often does the communication, made from the couch of death, in half-articulated words, prove so imperfect, that the knowledge of its existence is of no avail unto his intended heirs; and thus it is, that millions return again to the earth from which they have been gathered with such toil. what avarice has dug up, avarice buries again; perhaps in future ages to be regained by labour, when, from the chemical powers of eternal and mysterious nature, they have again been filtered through the indurated earth, and reassumed the form and the appearance of the metal which has lain in darkness since the creation of the world. is not this part of the grand principle of the universe? the eternal cycle of reproduction and decay, pervading all and every thing, blindly contributed to by the folly and the wickedness of man? "so far shalt thou go, but no further," was the fiat; and, arrived at the prescribed limit, we must commence again. at this moment intellect has seized upon the seven-league boots of the fable, which fitted every body who drew them on, and strides over the universe. how soon, as on the decay of the roman empire, may all the piles of learning which human endeavours would rear as a tower of babel to scale the heavens, disappear, leaving but fragments to future generations, as proofs of pre-existent knowledge! whether we refer to nature or to art, to knowledge or to power, to accumulation or destruction, bounds have been prescribed which man can never pass, guarded as they are by the same unerring and unseen power, which threw the planets from his hand, to roll in their appointed orbits. all appears confused below, but all is clear in heaven. i have somewhere heard it said, that where heaven may be, those who reach it will behold the mechanism of the universe in its perfection. those stars now studding the firmament in such apparent confusion, will there appear in all their regularity, as worlds revolving in their several orbits, round suns that gladden them with light and heat, all in harmony, all in beauty, rejoicing as they roll their destined course in obedience to the almighty fiat; one vast, stupendous, and, to the limits of our present senses, incomprehensible mechanism, perfect in all its parts, most wonderful in the whole. nor do i doubt it: it is but reasonable to suppose it. he that hath made this world and all upon it, can have no limits to his power. i wonder whether i shall ever see it. i said just now, let us think. i had better have said, let us not think; for thought is painful, even dangerous when carried to excess. happy is he who thinks but little, whose ideas are so confined as not to cause the intellectual fever, wearing out the mind and body, and often threatening both with dissolution. there is a happy medium of intellect, sufficient to convince us that all is good--sufficient to enable us to comprehend that which is revealed, without a vain endeavour to pry into the hidden; to understand the one, and lend our faith unto the other; but when the mind would soar unto the heaven not opened to it, or dive into sealed and dark futurity, how does it return from its several expeditions? confused, alarmed, unhappy; willing to rest, yet restless; willing to believe, yet doubting; willing to end its futile travels, yet setting forth anew. yet, how is a superior understanding envied! how coveted by all! a gift which always leads to danger, and often to perdition. thank heaven! i have not been intrusted with one of those thorough-bred, snorting, champing, foaming sort of intellects, which run away with common sense, who is jerked from his saddle at the beginning of its wild career. mine is a good, steady, useful hack, who trots along the high-road of life, keeping on his own side, and only stumbling a little now and then, when i happen to be careless,--ambitious only to arrive safely at the end of his journey, not to pass by others. why am i no longer ambitious? once i was, but 'twas when i was young and foolish. then methought "it were an easy leap to pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon;" but now i am old and fat, and there is something in fat which chokes or destroys ambition. it would appear that it is requisite for the body to be active and springing as the mind; and if it is not, it weighs the latter down to its own gravity. who ever heard of a fat man being ambitious? caesar was a spare man; bonaparte was thin, as long as he climbed the ladder; nelson was a shadow. the duke of wellington has not sufficient fat in his composition to grease his own wellington-boots. in short, i think my hypothesis to be fairly borne out, that fat and ambition are incompatible. it is very melancholy to be forced to acknowledge this, for i am convinced that it may be of serious injury to my works. an author with a genteel figure will always be more read than one who is corpulent. all his etherealness departs. some young ladies may have fancied me an elegant young man, like lytton bulwer, full of fun and humour, concealing all my profound knowledge under the mask of levity, and have therefore read my books with as much delight as has been afforded by pelham. but the truth must be told. i am a grave, heavy man, with my finger continually laid along my temple, seldom speaking unless spoken to--and when ladies talk, i never open my mouth; the consequence is, that sometimes, when there is a succession of company, i do not speak for a week. moreover, i am married, with five small children; and now all i look forward to, and all i covet, is to live in peace, and die in my bed. i wonder why i did not commence authorship before! how true it is that a man never knows what he can do until he tries! the fact is, i never thought that i could make a novel; and i was thirty years old before i stumbled on the fact. what a pity! writing a book reminds me very much of making a passage across the atlantic. at one moment, when the ideas flow, you have the wind aft, and away you scud, with a flowing sheet, and a rapidity which delights you: at other times, when your spirit flags, and you gnaw your pen (i have lately used iron pens, for i'm a devil of a crib-biter), it is like unto a foul wind, tack and tack, requiring a long time to get on a short distance. but still you do go, although but slowly; and in both cases we must take the foul wind with the fair. if a ship were to furl her sails until the wind again was favourable, her voyage would be protracted to an indefinite time; and, if an author were to wait until he again felt in a humour, it would take a life to write a novel. whenever the wind is foul, which it now most certainly is, for i am writing any thing but "newton forster," and which will account for this rambling, stupid chapter, made up of odds and ends, strung together like what we call "skewer pieces" on board of a man-of-war; when the wind is foul, as i said before, i have, however, a way of going a-head, by getting up the steam which i am now about to resort to--and the fuel is brandy. all on this side of the world are asleep, except gamblers, house breakers, the new police, and authors. my wife is in the arms of morpheus--an allegorical _crim con_, which we husbands are obliged to wink at; and i am making love to the brandy bottle, that i may stimulate my ideas, as unwilling to be roused from their dark cells of the brain as the spirit summoned by lochiel, who implored at each response, "leave me, oh! leave me to repose." now i'll invoke them, conjure them up, like little imps, to do my bidding:-- by this glass, which now i drain, by this spirit, which shall cheer you, as its fumes mount to my brain, from thy torpid slumbers rear you. by this head, so tired with thinking, by this hand, no longer trembling, by these lips, so fond of drinking, let me feel that you're assembling. by the bottle placed before me, (food for you, ere morrow's sun), by this second glass, i pour me, come, you _little beggars_, route. volume three, chapter four. "british sailors have a knack, haul away, yo ho, boys, of hauling down a frenchman's jack 'gainst any odds, you know, boys."--old song. there was, i flatter myself, some little skill in the introduction of the foregoing chapter, which has played the part of chorus during the time that the _bombay castle_ has proceeded on to canton, has taken in her cargo, and is on her passage home, in company with fifteen other east indiamen and several country ships, all laden with the riches of the east, and hastening to pour their treasures into the lap of their country. millions were floating on the waters, intrusted to the skill of merchant-seamen to convey them home in safety, and to their courage to defend them from the enemy, which had long been lying in wait to intercept them. by a very unusual chance or oversight, there had been no men-of-war despatched to protect property of such enormous value. the indian fleet had just entered the straits of malacca, and were sailing in open order, with a fresh breeze and smooth water. the hammocks had been stowed, the decks washed, and the awnings spread. shoals of albicore were darting across the bows of the different ships; and the seamen perched upon the cat-heads and spritsail-yard, had succeeded in piercing with their harpoons many, which were immediately cut up, and in the frying-pans for breakfast. but very soon they had "other fish to fry:" for one of the indiamen, the _royal george_, made the signal that there were four strange sail in the south west. "a gun from the commodore, sir," reported newton, who was officer of the watch. "the flags are up--they are not our pennants." it was an order to four ships of the fleet to run down and examine the strange vessels. half an hour elapsed, during which time the glasses were at every mast-head. captain drawlock himself, although not much given to climbing, having probably had enough of it during his long career in the service, was to be seen in the main-top. doubts, suspicions, declarations, surmises, and positive assertions were bandied about, until they were all dispelled by the reconnoitring ships telegraphing, "a french squadron, consisting of one line-of-battle ship, three frigates, and a brig." it was, in fact, the well-known squadron of admiral linois, who had scoured the indian seas, ranging it up and down with the velocity as well as the appetite of a shark. his force consisted of the _marengo_, of eighty guns; the famed _belle poule_, a forty-gun frigate, which outstripped the wind; the _semillante_, of thirty-six guns; the _berceau_, ship corvette, of twenty-two, and a brig of sixteen. they had sailed from batavia on purpose to intercept the china fleet, having received intelligence that it was unprotected, and anticipating an easy conquest, if not an immediate surrender to their overpowering force. "the recall is up on board of the commodore," said mathews, the first-mate, to captain drawlock. "very well, keep a good look-out; he intends to fight, i'll answer for it. we must not surrender up millions to these french scoundrels without a tussle." "i should hope not," replied mathews; "but that big fellow will make a general average among our tea canisters, i expect when we do come to the scratch. there go the flags, sir," continued mathews, repeating the number to captain drawlock, who had the signal-book in his hand. "form line of battle in close order, and prepare for action," read captain drawlock from the signal-book. a cheer resounded through the fleet when the signal was made known. the ships were already near enough to each other to hear the shouting, and the confidence of others added to their own. "if we only had _all_ english seamen on board, instead of these lascars and chinamen, who look so blank," observed newton to mathews, "i think we should show them some play." "yes," growled mathews; "john company will some day find out the truth of the old proverb, `penny wise and pound foolish!'" the french squadron, which had continued on the wind to leeward until they could fetch the india fleet, now tacked, and laid up directly for them. in the meantime, the english vessels were preparing for action: the clearing of their lumbered decks was the occasion of many a coop of fowls, or pig of the true china breed, exchanging their destiny for a watery grave. fortunately, there were no passengers. homeward-bound china ships are not encumbered in that way, unless to astonish the metropolis with such monstrosities as the mermaid, or as the siamese twins, coupled by nature like two hounds (separated lately indeed by lytton bulwer, who has satisfactorily proved that "unity between brethren," so generally esteemed a blessing, on the contrary, is a bore). in a short time all was ready, and the india fleet continued their course under easy sail, neither courting nor avoiding the conflict. at nightfall, the french squadron hauled to the wind; the conduct of the china fleet rendered them cautious, and the french admiral considered it advisable to ascertain, by broad daylight, whether a portion of the english ships were not men-of-war; their cool and determined behaviour certainly warranted the suspicion. it was now to be decided whether the indiamen should take advantage of the darkness of the night to escape, or wait the result of the ensuing day. the force opposed to them was formidable and concentrated; their own, on the contrary, was weak from division, each ship not having more than sixty english seamen on board; the country ships none at all, the few belonging to them having volunteered on board the indiamen. in this decision, commodore dance proved his judgment as well as his courage. in an attempt to escape, the fleet would separate; and, from the well-known superior sailing of the french squadron, most of them would be overtaken, and, being attacked single-handed, fall an easy prey to the enemy. in this opinion the captains of the indiamen, who had communicated during the night, were unanimous, and equally so in the resolution founded upon it, "to keep together and fight to the last." the india fleet lay to for the night, keeping their lights up and the men at their quarters; most of the english seamen sound asleep, the lascars and chinese sitting up in groups, expressing, in their own tongues, their fear of the approaching combat, in which, whether risked for national honour or individual property, they could have no interest. the morning broke, and discovered the french squadron about three miles to windward. admiral linois had calculated that if the fleet consisted only of merchant vessels they would have profited by the darkness to have attempted to escape, and he had worked to windward during the night, that he might be all ready to pounce down upon his quarry. but when he perceived that the english ships did not attempt to increase their distance he was sadly puzzled. the french tricolour hardly had time to blow clear from their taffrails, when the english unions waved aloft in defiance; and that admiral linois might be more perplexed by the arrangements of the night, three of the most warlike indiamen displayed the red ensign, while the remainder of the ships hoisted up the blue. this _ruse_ led the french admiral to suppose that these three vessels were men-of-war, composing the escort of the fleet. at nine o'clock the commodore made the signal to fill; and the french squadron not bearing down, the india fleet continued its course under easy sail. the french admiral then edged away with his squadron, with the intention of cutting off the country ships, which had been stationed to leeward; but which, since the british fleet had hauled their wind, had been left in the rear. it was now requisite for the british commander to act decidedly and firmly. captain timmins, an officer for courage and conduct not surpassed by any in our naval service, who commanded the _royal george_, edged to within hail of the commodore, and recommended that the order should be given to tack in succession, bear down in a line a-head, and engage the enemy. this spirited advice was acted upon; the _royal george_ leading into action, followed by the other ships in such close order that their flying jib-booms were often pointed over the taffrails of their predecessors. in a quarter of an hour was to be witnessed the unusual spectacle of a fleet of merchant ships exchanging broadsides with the best equipped and highest disciplined squadron that ever sailed from france. in less than an hour was presented the more unusual sight of this squadron flying from the merchant ships, and the signal for a general chase answered with enthusiastic cheers. that admiral linois might have supposed, previous to the engagement, that some of the british ships were men-of-war, is probable; but that he knew otherwise after they had commenced action, must also have been the case. the fact was, he was frightened at their determined courage and their decided conduct; and he fled, not from the guns, but from the _men_. i do not know on record any greater instance of heroism on the part of british seamen; and i am delighted that newton forster was in the conflict, or of course i could not have introduced it in this work. and now, those who read for amusement may, if they please, skip over the next chapter. there are points connected with the india service which i intend to comment upon; and as all the wisdom of the age is confined to novels, and nobody reads pamphlets, i introduce them here. when one man is empowered to hold in check, and to insist upon the obedience of a large proportion of his fellows, it can only be by "opinion" that his authority can be supported. by "opinion" i mean the knowledge that he is so empowered by the laws of the country to which they all belong, and by which laws they will be punished, if they act in opposition to his authority. the fiat of the individual commanding is in this case the fiat of the nation at large; to contend with this fiat is not contending with the individual, but with the nation, to whose laws they must submit, or to return to their country no more. a commander of a vessel, therefore, armed with martial law, is, in fact, representing and executing, not his own will, but that of the nation who have made the law; for he is amenable, as well as his inferiors, if he acts contrary to, or misuses it. in the merchant service martial law is not permitted; the bye-laws relative to shipping, and the common law of the country, are supposed to be sufficient; and certainly the present system is more advisable than to vest such excessive power in the hands of men, who, generally speaking, neither require nor are fit to be entrusted with it. where, as in the greater number of merchant vessels, the master and his subordinate officers compose one-third, if not one-half of the complement on board, nothing but the most flagrant conduct is likely to produce insubordination. but in the east india service the case is different. the vessels themselves are of dimensions equal, if not superior, to our largest class of frigates, and they carry from thirty to forty guns; the property embarked in them is also of such an extent, that the loss almost becomes national: their commanders are men of superior attainments, as gentlemen and as officers; finally, the complement of seamen under their command is larger than on board of many of the king's ships. the above considerations will at once establish that those bye-laws which afford protection to the well-governing of the merchant service in general, are not sufficient to maintain the necessary discipline on board of the east india ships. the greater the disproportion between the unit who commands and the numbers who obey, the greater the chance of mutiny. sedition is the progeny of assembly. even where grievances may be real, if there is no contact and no discussion, there will be no insubordination; but imaginary grievances, canvassed and discussed in assembly, swell into disaffection and mutiny. when, therefore, numbers are collected together, as in the vessels of the east india service, martial law becomes indispensable; and the proof of it is, that the commanders of these vessels have been forced to exercise it upon their own responsibility. a letter of marque should be granted to all vessels carrying a certain number of men, empowering the commanders, under certain sureties and penalties, to exercise this power. it would be a boon to the east india ships, and ultimately a benefit to the navy. to proceed. the merchant ships of the company are men-of-war; the men-of-war of the company are--what shall i call them? by their right names--they are all _bombay marine_: but let me at once assert, in applying their own name to them as a reproach, that the officers commanding them are not included in the stigma. i have served with them, and have pleasure in stating that, taking the average, the vessels are as well officered as those in our own service; but let us describe the vessels and their crews. most of the vessels are smaller in scantling than the run down (and constantly _going down_) ten-gun brigs in our own service, built for a light draft of water (as they were originally intended to act against the pirates, which occasionally infest the indian seas), and unfit to contend with anything like a heavy sea. many of them are pierced for, and actually carry fourteen or sixteen guns; but, as effective fighting vessels, ought not to have been pierced for more than eight i have no hesitation in asserting that an english cutter is a match for any of them, and a french privateer has, before now, proved that she was superior. the crews are composed of a small proportion of english seamen, a small proportion of portuguese sea-cunnies, a proportion of lascars, and a proportion of hindoo bombay marines. it requires two or three languages to carry on the duty; custom; religions, provisions, all different, and all living and messing separate. how is it possible that any officer can discipline a ship's company of this incongruous description, so as to make them "pull together?" in short, the vessels and the crews are equally contemptible, and the officers, in cases of difficulty, must be sacrificed to the pride and meanness of the company. my reason for taking notice of the "bombay marine" arises from an order lately promulgated, in which the officers of this service were to take rank and precedence with those of the navy. now, as far as the officers themselves are concerned, so far from having any objection to it, i wish, for their own merits and the good-will that i bear them, that they were incorporated into our navy-list; but as long as they command vessels of the above description, in the event of a war, i will put a case, to prove the absurdity and danger which may result. there is not one vessel at this present time in their service which would not be sunk by one well-directed broadside from a large frigate; yet, as many of their officers are of long standing, it is very probable that a squadron of english frigates may fall in with one of these vessels, the captain of which would be authorised by his seniority to take the command of the whole of them. we will suppose that this squadron falls in with the enemy, of equal or superior force; can the officer in command lead on the attack? if so, he will be sent down by the first broadside. if he does not, from whom are the orders to proceed during the action? the consequences would be as injurious as the arrangement is ridiculous. the charter of the east india company will soon expire; and if it is to be renewed, the country ought to have some indemnification for the three millions which this colony or conquest (which you please) annually draws from it. now there is one point which deserves consideration: the constitutional protection of all property is by the nation, and as a naval force is required in india, that force should be supplied by the armaments of the nation, at the expense of the company. i have already proved that the bombay marine is a useless and incompetent service: let it be abolished altogether, and men-of-war be sent out to supply their place. it is most important that our navy should be employed in time of peace, and our officers gain that practical knowledge without which the theoretical is useless. was this insisted upon, a considerable force would be actively employed, at no expense to the country, and many officers become valuable, who now are remaining inactive, and forgetting what previous knowledge they may have acquired of their nautical duties. at the same time, every east india ship should be compelled to take on board her whole complement of english seamen, and not be half manned by lascars and chinamen. but i presume i must be careful how i attempt to legislate for that country, or i shall have two tame elephants sent after me by the man _what_ puts his hair in papers! volume three, chapter five. "what singular emotions fill their bosoms, who have been induced to roam, with flattering doubts, if all be well or ill, with love for many, and with fears for some!" byron. the china fleet arrived without encountering any further danger; the commodore and commanders of the several ships composing the fleet received that praise from their countrymen to which their conduct had so fully entitled them. as soon as the _bombay castle_ had entered the basin of the east india docks, newton requested, and easily obtained, permission to leave the ship. he immediately directed his steps to greenwich, that he might ascertain if his father was in existence; for he had received no letters since his departure, although he had taken several opportunities to write. it is true that he had not expected any; he knew that his father was too absent ever to think about writing to him, and his uncle much too busy to throw away any portion of his time in unnecessary correspondence. when we approach the dwelling containing, or supposed to contain, an object of solicitude, of whose existence we are uncertain, what a thrill of anxiety pervades the frame! how quickened is the throbbing of the heart! how checked the respiration! thus it was with newton forster as he raised his hand to the latch of the door. he opened it, and the first object which delighted his eyes was his father seated upon a high stool smoking his pipe, in the company of two veterans of the hospital, who had brought their old bones to an anchor upon a large trunk. they were in earnest conversation, and did not perceive the company of newton, who waited a little while, holding the door ajar, as he contemplated the group. one of the pensioners was speaking, and continued:--"may be, or may not be, mr forster, that's _dubersome_; but if so be as how he is alive, why you'll see him soon, that's sartain--take my word for it. a good son, as you say he was, as soon as he can get over the side of the ship, always bears up for his parent's house. with the help of your barnacles, i worked my way clean through the whole yarn, and i seed the report of killed and wounded; and i'll take my affidavy that there warn't an officer in the fleet as lost the number of his mess in that action, and a most clipping affair it was; only think of mounseer turning tail to marchant vessels! damn my old buttons! what will our jolly fellows do next?" "next, bill! why there be nothing to do, 'less they shave off the beard of the grand turk to make a swab for the cabin of the king's yacht, and sarve out his seven hundred wives amongst the fleet. i say, i wonder how he keeps so many of them craft in good order?" "i knows," replied the other, "for i axed the very question when i was up the dardanelles. there be a big black fellow, a _unique_ they calls him, with a large sword and a bag of sawdust, as always stands sentry at the door, and if so be a woman kirks up a bobbery, why plump her head goes into the bag." "well, that's one way to make a good woman on her; but as i was saying, mr forster, you mustn't be down in the mouth; a seaman as knows his duty, never cares for leave till all the work be done. i'd bet a yard of pigtail that mr newton--" "is here, my good fellow!" interrupted newton. "my dear father!" nicholas sprang off his seat and embraced his son. "my dear, dear boy! why did you not come to me before? i was afraid that you had been killed. well, i'm glad to see you, newton. how did you like the west indies?" "the east hinges, you mean, mr forster.--newton," continued the old pensioner, wiping both sides of his hand upon his blue breeches, and then extending it--"tip us your daddle, my lad; i like to touch the flipper of one who has helped to shame the enemy, and it will be no disgrace for you to grapple with an old seaman, who did his duty as long as he had a pin to stand upon." "with pleasure, my friend," replied newton, taking the old man's hand, while the other veteran seized the one unoccupied, and, surveying newton from top to toe, observed, "if your ship be manned with all such lads as you--why, she be damned well manned, that's all." newton laughed and turned to his father. "well, father, how are you?--have you been quite well? and how do you like your berth here?" "why, newton, i get on much better than i did at bristol." "it be liverpool he mean, mr newton; but your good father be a little damaged in his upper works; his memory-box is like a sieve.--come, bill, we be two too many. when father and son meet after a india voyage, there be much to say as wants no listeners.--good-bye, mr forster; may you never want a son, and may he never want a ship!" newton smiled his thanks to the considerate old pensioners, as they stumped out of the door, and left him alone with his father. the communications of nicholas were as concise as usual. he liked his situation, liked his company, had as much work as he wished for, and had enjoyed good health. when newton entered upon pecuniary matters, which he was the sooner induced to do by observing that his father's coat and smallclothes were in a most ruinous condition, he discovered, that though the old gentleman had provided himself with money from the bankers, during the first year, to purchase a new suit of clothes, latterly he not only had quite forgotten that there were funds at his disposal, but even that he had procured the clothes, which had remained in the chest from the day they had been sent home without having been tried on. "dear me! now i recollect, so i did; and i put them upstairs somewhere. i was busy at the time with my improvement on the duplex." "have you seen much of my uncle, sir?" inquired newton. "your uncle!--dear me, no! i don't know where he lives; so i waited until you came back. we'll go to-morrow, newton, or he may think me unkind. i'll see if his watch goes well; i recollect he said it did. but, newton, tell me all about your voyage, and the action with the french ships." newton entered into a detail, during which he perceived by his father's questions that his memory had become more impaired, and that he was more absent than ever. he arranged to call upon his uncle the ensuing day; and then it was his intention, without communicating it to his father, to make every inquiry and advertise to ascertain the fate of his mother. this was a duty which he had long wished to repeat; but his necessities and want of time had hitherto prevented the renewal of the task. early the next morning, newton and his father went up to london by the greenwich coach; and a walk of a few minutes after they were put down, brought them to the chambers of mr john forster. "how do you do, mr scratton? is my uncle at home?" inquired mr newton. mr scratton immediately recognised him, and very graciously replied, that his uncle was at home and would be very glad to see him, having talked very often of him lately. newton and his father were ushered into the parlour, where he found his uncle precisely in the same position as when he last saw him;--it would almost have appeared that he had not quitted his seat during newton's tedious voyage. "nephew," said mr john forster, without rising from his chair, "i am very glad to see you.--brother nicholas, i am very glad to see you too.--chairs, scratton," continued the old lawyer, taking his watch off the table, and placing it in his fob. "well, nephew, i am very glad to hear such good accounts of you. i saw mr bosanquet yesterday, and he told me that you had for your good conduct been promoted to the rank of second-mate." "it is more than i am aware of," replied newton, much pleased with the information. "i am much obliged to you for the intelligence, as i am for your many other acts of kindness." "well, so you ought to be; it's no bad thing, as i told you before, to find out an uncle. by-the-bye, there has been some alteration in my establishment since we parted, nephew. i have a house in lincoln's inn fields, and a spare bed, if you will accept of it. we dine at six; brother nicholas, i shall be very happy to see you, if you can stay. it will be too late to go home after dinner, but you can share my nephew's bed." "i shall be most happy to accept your kind offer for a few days, sir, if it does not incommode you," replied newton. "no; you will not incommode me _there_, but you do very much _here_, where i am always busy. so good-bye, my boy; i shall be at home at six. brother nicholas, you did not vouchsafe me an answer." "about what, brother john?" replied nicholas, who had been in the clouds. "oh, i'll tell you all about it, father," said newton, laughing. "come away now--my uncle is busy." and nicholas rose up, with the observation-- "brother john, you appear to me to read a great deal." "yes, i do, brother." "how much do you read a day?" "i really cannot say; much depends upon whether i am interrupted or not." "it must be very bad for your eyes, brother john." "it certainly does not improve them," replied the lawyer, impatiently. "come, father, my uncle is very busy," said newton, touching nicholas on the arm. "well, good-bye, brother john. i had something to say--oh! i hope you are not displeased at my not coming to see you before?" "humph! not in the least, i can assure you, brother nicholas; so good-bye. newton, you'll bring him with you at six," said mr john forster; and he resumed his brief before they had quitted the room. newton was much surprised to hear that his uncle had taken a house, and he surmised whether he had not also been induced to take a wife. he felt an inclination to put the question to mr scratton, as he passed through the office; but checked the wish, lest it should appear like prying into his uncle's affairs. being the month of february, it was dark long before six o'clock, and newton was puzzled what to do with his father until that time. he returned to the salopian coffee-house, opposite to which they had been put down by the greenwich coach; and taking possession of a box, called for some biscuits and a pint of sherry; and requesting his father to stay there until his return, went out to purchase a sextant, and some other nautical luxuries, which his pay enabled him to procure without trespassing upon the funds supplied by the generosity of his uncle. he then returned to his father, who had finished the vine and biscuits, and had his eyes fixed upon the ceiling of the room; and calling a hackney coach, drove to the direction which his uncle had pointed out as his residence. mr john forster had already come home, and they found him in the dining-room, decanting the wine for dinner, with amber by his side. newton was surprised at the appearance of a little girl; and, as he took her proffered hand, inquired her name. "amber. papa says it's a very foolish name; don't you, papa?" "yes, my dear, i do; but now we are going to dinner, and you must go to mrs smith: so good-night." amber kissed the old lawyer, as he stooped to her; and wishing the company good-night, she left the room. "brother john," said nicholas, "i really had no idea that you were a married man." "humph! i am not a married man, brother." "then pray, brother, how is it _possible_ for that little girl to be your daughter?" "i did not say she was my daughter: but now we will go upstairs into the drawing-room, while they put the dinner on the table." the dinner was soon announced; the cookery was plain, but good, the wine excellent. when the dessert was placed on the table, mr john forster rose, and taking two bottles of port wine from the sideboard, placed them on the table, and addressed newton. "nephew, i have no time to _sip_ wine, although it is necessary that i drink it. now, we must drink fast, as i have only ten minutes to spare; not that i wish you to drink more than you like, but i must push the bottle round, whether you fill or no, as i have an appointment, what we call a consultation, at my chambers. pass the bottle, brother," continued the lawyer, helping himself, and shoving the decanter to nicholas. nicholas, who had been little accustomed to wine, obeyed mechanically, swallowing down each glass _a gorge deployee_, as he was awoke from his meditations by the return of the bottle, and then filling up his glass again. newton, who could take his allowance as well as most people, could not, however, venture to drink glass for glass with his uncle, and the bottle was passed several times without his filling. when the ten minutes had elapsed, mr john forster took his watch from the table, replaced it in his fob, and rose from his chair. locking up the remainder of the wine, he quitted the house without apology, leaving his guests to entertain themselves, and order tea when they felt inclined. "my brother seems to be very busy, newton," observed nicholas. "what wine was that we have been drinking? it was very strong; i declare my head turns round;" and in a few moments more nicholas dropped his head upon the table, and was fast asleep. newton, who perceived that his father was affected by the wine which he had been drinking, which was, in the sum total, a pint of sherry at the coffee-house before dinner, and at least a bottle during and after his meal, thought it better that he should be allowed to take his nap. he therefore put out the candles, and went up into the drawing-room, where he amused himself with a book until the clock struck twelve. according to the regulations of the house, the servants had retired to bed, leaving a light in the passage for their master on his return, which sometimes was at a very late hour, or rather, it should be said, at a very early one. newton lighted a chamber-candlestick, and went down into the parlour to rouse his father; but all his attempts were in vain. the wine had taken such an effect upon him, that he was in a state of lethargy. newton observed that the servant had cleared the table, and that the fire was out: and, as there was no help for it, he removed the chairs to the end of the room, that his father might not tumble over them if he awoke in the dark, and then retired to his own bed. volume three, chapter six. angels and ministers of grace defend us! ... be thy intents wicked or charitable, thou com'st in such a questionable shape that i will speak to thee. shakespeare. it was past two o'clock when mr john forster returned from his chambers and let himself in with a pass-key. having secured the street door, the old gentleman lighted his candle from the lamp, which he then blew out, and had his foot upon the first step of the stairs, when he was startled by a loud snore from nicholas in the dining-room; he immediately proceeded there, and found his brother, with his heed still lying on the table. "humph!" ejaculated the lawyer. "why brother nicholas! brother nicholas!" nicholas, who had nearly slept off the effects of the wine, answered with an unintelligible sort of growling. "brother nicholas, i say--brother nicholas--will you get up, or lie here all night?" "they shall be cleaned and ready by to-morrow morning," replied nicholas, dreaming. "humph! that's more than you will be, apparently.--i say, brother nicholas." "yes brother," replied nicholas, raising his head and staring at the candle. "why, what's the matter?" "the matter is, that i wish to go to bed, and wish to see you in bed before i go myself." "yes, brother john, if you please, certainly. where's my bed? i do believe i have been asleep." "humph! i have no doubt upon the subject," replied john forster, lighting another candle. "come this way, brother nicholas," and they both ascended the stairs. when mr john forster arrived at the door of his own room, on the first story, he stopped. "now, brother nicholas, are you quite awake? do you think that i may trust you with a candle?" "i should hope so," replied nicholas; "i see that it is silver, but i hope i'm honest, brother john." "humph! i mean, can i trust you to put it out?" "yes, i think that you may. pray which is my room?" "the first door on the left, when you are at the top of the stairs." "the first door." "yes, the first on the left; do you understand?" "yes, brother, i do; the first door on the left." "very well; then i wish you a good-night." "good-night, brother," replied nicholas, ascending the stairs as john forster entered his room. nicholas arrived at the head of the stairs; but his brain was not very clear. he muttered to himself "i think i'm right--yes, i'm right--the first door--to the right--yes--that's it," and instead of the room to the left, where newton was, he walked into the one to the right, which appertained to the housekeeper, mrs smith. the old lady was fast asleep. nicholas threw off his clothes, put out his candle, and stepped into bed without waking the old lady, whom he supposed to be his son, and in a few minutes they snored in concert. the morning dawned. the watchmen (london nightingales) ceased their notes and retired to their beds. the chimney-sweeps (larks of the metropolis) raised their shrill cry as they paced along with chattering teeth. house-maids and kitchen-maids presented their back views to the early passengers, as they washed off the accumulation of the previous day from the steps of the front door. "milk below," (certainly much below "proof"), was answered by the assent of the busy cooks, when a knock at the door of mrs smith's room from the red knuckles of the housemaid, awoke her to a sense of her equivocal situation. at her first discovery that a man was in her bed, she uttered a scream of horror, throwing herself upon her knees, and extending her hands before her in her amazement. the scream awoke nicholas, who, astonished at the sight, and his modesty equally outraged, also threw himself in the same posture, facing her, and recoiling. each looked aghast at each: each considered the other as the lawless invader; but before a word of explanation could pass between them, their countenances changed from horror to surprise, from surprise to anxiety and doubt. "why!" screamed the housekeeper, losing her breath with astonishment. "it is!" cried nicholas, retreating further. "yes--yes--it is--my _dear_ nicholas!" "no--it can't be," replied nicholas, hearing the fond appellation. "it is--oh yes--it is your poor unhappy wife, who begs your pardon, nicholas," cried the housekeeper, bursting into tears, and falling into his arms. "my dear--dear wife!" exclaimed nicholas, as he threw his arms around her, and each sobbed upon the other's shoulder. in this position they remained a minute, when mr john forster, who heard the scream and subsequent exclamations, and had taken it for granted that his brother had been guilty of some _contre temps_, first wiped the remaining lather from his half-shaved chin, and then ascended to the housekeeper's room from whence the noise had proceeded. when he opened the door, he found them in the position we have described, both kneeling in the centre of the bed embracing and sobbing. they were so wrapped in each other, that they did not perceive his entrance. mr john forster stared with amazement for a few seconds, and thus growled out:-- "why, what are you two old fools about?" "it's my husband, sir,"--"it's my wife, brother john," cried they, both at once, as the tears coursed down their cheeks. "humph!" ejaculated the lawyer, and he quitted the room. we must let the reader imagine the various explanations which took place between nicholas and his truly reformed wife, newton and his uncle, amber, and every body in the household, while we narrate the events which had brought about this singular _denouement_. the reader may recollect that we left mrs forster in the lunatic asylum, slowly recovering from an attack of the brain-fever, which had been attended with a relapse. for many weeks she continued in a state of great feebleness, and during that time, when, in the garden, in company with other denizens of this melancholy abode (wishing to be usefully employed), she greatly assisted the keepers in restraining them, and, in a short time, established that superiority over them, which is invariably the result of a pane intellect. this was soon perceived by doctor beddington, who (aware of her destitute condition) offered her a situation as nurse in the establishment, until the inspecting magistrates should make their appearance, with the promise that she might continue in it afterwards, if she thought proper. this proposal was accepted by mrs forster, until she might resolve what course to take, and she soon! became a most invaluable person in the establishment, effecting more by lenient and kind treatment than the keepers were able to do by their violence. so completely changed was mrs forster in disposition, that so far from feeling any resentment against those who had been the means of her confinement, she acknowledged to herself that her own conduct had been the occasion of her misfortune, and that those who had contributed to open her eyes to her former insanity, were her best friends. she was humbled, and unhappy; but she kissed the rod. all that she now wished was to find out her husband, and by her future conduct to make reparation for the past. one of the gaolers, at her request, made every inquiry as to the part of england nicholas had removed; but it was without success. all trace was lost, and mrs forster accepted the situation of nurse, until she might be enabled to prosecute her search, or obtain the intelligence which she desired. for nine months mrs forster remained on the establishment, during which time she had saved a sum of money sufficient for her support and travelling expenses. she then resolved to search after her husband, whose pardon for her previous conduct seemed to be the _sine qua non_ for which she continued to exist. she took leave of the doctor; and, strange to say, it was with feelings of regret that she quitted an abode, once the source of horror and disgust: but time reconciles us to every thing, and she made a half promise to dr beddington, that if she could not hear any tidings of her husband, or should discover that he was no more, that she would return to the situation. mrs forster directed her course to london; why, or wherefore, she hardly knew; but she had imbibed the idea that the metropolis was the most likely place to meet with him. her first inquiries were about any families of the name of forster; but the directory gave such an enormous list of forsters, of all trades and callings, and in every situation in life, that she closed it with despair. she had a faint recollection that her husband (who was not very communicative, and least of all to her), had stated that he had a brother alive somewhere; but this was all that she knew. nevertheless, she set about her task in good earnest, and called upon every one of the name in the middling classes of life, to ascertain if they were relations of her husband. there were many in high life whose names and addresses she had obtained from the red-book; but to them she dared not apply. all she could do was to question the servants; but every answer was unsatisfactory; and mrs forster, whose money was nearly expended, had serious thoughts of returning to the lunatic establishment, when the advertisement in the newspapers of mr scratton, for a housekeeper, which mr john forster had desired him to procure, met her, eye. unwilling to leave london, she applied for, and obtained the situation, having received an excellent character from doctor beddington, to whom she had written and explained her views. her heart leapt when she discovered that her master's name was forster; and when she first saw him she could not but persuade herself that there was a family likeness. the germs of hope were, however, soon withered, when amber, in answer to her inquiries, stated, that mr forster had a brother lately dead, who had never been married, and that she never heard of his having another. her fellow-servants were all as strange as herself; and mrs forster (who had assumed the name of smith) was obliged to have recourse to that patience and resignation which had been so severely inculcated. the charge of amber soon proved a source of delight; the control which she had over the household a source of gratification (not as before, for the pleasure of domineering, but for the sake of exercising kindness and forbearance), and mrs forster was happy and resigned. it may be surmised as strange, that during the period which she remained in this capacity, she had never heard mention made of her husband or her son; but it must be remembered that nicholas had never called upon his brother, and that newton was in the east indies; and, moreover, that mr john forster was just as little inclined to be communicative as her husband. indeed, he never came in contact with his housekeeper, except to pay the bills, which was regularly once a month, when he called her down after dinner, and after the accounts were settled, offered her a glass of wine, as a proof of his being satisfied with her conduct. when newton and his father arrived at the chambers on the day before the discovery, and were invited to dinner, his note of communication was as laconic as usual. "mrs smith--i have invited two gentlemen to dine with me to-day, six precisely." "john forster." "ps. let the spare bed be ready." mrs forster prepared every thing as directed, and having done her duties below, retired to her room, where she usually sat with amber. she did not therefore see the parties when they entered; and amber, who had run down to meet her protector, heard nothing during her short stay in the room, to suppose that they were relatives of mr john forster. all that she had to communicate was, that the parties were an elderly gentleman and a very handsome young man. yet, even this simple communication caused the pulse of mrs forster to accelerate. they might be her husband and her son. it was the first time the spare bed had been ordered. reflection, however convinced her that her hopes were strung upon too slight a thread; and, musing on the improbability of not having ascertained during a year the fact of her master having so near a relative--moreover, her son was not in existence, she sighed, and dismissed the idea as ridiculous. before the gentlemen had finished their wine, amber was in bed, and mrs forster invariably sat at the side of it until her own hour of repose had arrived. a certain indefinable curiosity still remained lurking; yet, as she could not gratify it without intrusion (if the strangers were still up), she retired to bed, with the reflection, that all her doubts would be relieved in the morning; and, after lying awake for some hours in a state of suspense, she at last fell into that sound sleep, which is usually produced by previous excitement. how she was awakened from it, the reader has been already informed. "it's rather awkward, newton," said mr john forster, about ten days afterwards. "i cannot do without your mother, that's certain: but what am i to do with your father? humph! well, she must take charge of him as well as amber. she must teach him--" "teach him what, sir?" replied newton, laughing. "teach him what? why to leave my watch and spectacles alone. i dare not lay them down for a moment." "i think we may teach him that, sir, if it is all that you require." "i ask no more: then he may go about the house like a tame rabbit. when will your ship be ready, boy?" "in about a fortnight, sir. i called upon captain oughton the day before yesterday, but he was not at home. his steward gave me the information." "what is the name of the ship?" "the windsor castle, sir." "why all the india ships appear to be called castles. your last ship was the bombay castle i think?" "yes, sir: there are a great many of them so named:--they really are floating castles." "and full of ladies. you `castle your queens,' as they do at chess. humph!" a pun from mr john forster was a rarity: he never had been known to make one before: and newton asserts that he never heard him guilty of it afterwards. it deserves, therefore, bad as it was, to be recorded. volume three, chapter seven. but to stick to my route 'twill be hard, if some novelty can't be struck out. is there no algerine, no kamschatkan arrived? no plenipo-pacha, three tail'd and three wived? no russian, whose dissonant, consonant name almost rattles to fragments the trumpet of fame? postscript. by the bye, have you found any friend who can construe that latin account, t'other day, of a monster? if we can't get a russian--and that story in latin be not _too_ improper, i think i'll bring that in. moore. a few mornings after this colloquy with his uncle, newton was very busy perambulating the streets of london, in search of various requisites for his trip to india, when his hand was seized before he had time to call to mind the features of the party who shook it with such apparent warmth. "my dear mr forster, i am so delighted to see you, so happy to hear of your gallant adventure with the french squadron. mrs plausible will be quite pleased at meeting her old shipmate; she often talks about you. i must make sure of you," continued the doctor, drawing from his pocket a large packet of cards, and inserting, at the top of one of them, newton forster's name with his pencil. "this is an invitation to our _conversazione_ of to-morrow night, which you must do us the honour to accept. we shall have all the scientific men of the day, and a very pretty sprinkling of nobility, if not something more. however, you will see. shall i tell mrs plausible that you will come, or will you disappoint her?" "why," replied newton, "if i possibly can i will. i presume the hour is not very precise?" "o no, from nine until two or three; but if you wish to see great people, about eleven is the exact time." "well, then," replied newton, "the time which suits great people also suits me. i hope mrs plausible is quite well." "quite well, i thank you. good-bye;" and dr plausible hurried off so quickly, that newton was induced to look after him, to ascertain what could induce such precipitation. he perceived dr plausible shaking hands warmly with another gentleman, and after a few seconds, the packet of cards was again pulled out of his pocket, and the pencil in requisition. it will be necessary to go back a little, to acquaint the reader with what had occurred since the acceptation of dr plausible by miss tavistock, when they were on board of the bombay castle. on their arrival at madras, miss tavistock's early and dearest friend, who resided in the up-country, had commissioned an acquaintance to receive miss tavistock until they could make arrangements for her journey to the interior. by this female acquaintance miss tavistock was kindly welcomed, and received into her house; but miss tavistock's prospects having altered, so had all her devoted attachments to the friend of her early years. she wrote, announcing her intended change of condition, and regretting that dr plausible's affairs, requiring his immediate presence in england, would prevent her having the delight of embracing one, who was so entwined round her heart. the letter was nevertheless very cold, and miss tavistock was very much abused by her dearest friend, who, disappointed in her expectations, did not even condescend an answer. in a week miss tavistock was united to dr plausible, and in less than a fortnight afterwards they were on their passage home. dr plausible found that his wife's report of her circumstances was correct, and that now he had the means of keeping his carriage and of seeing company in moderation. shortly after their return dr plausible took the lease of a house in a betwixt and between fashionable street, and not wishing to remain idle, attempted to get into practice as an accoucheur; for although the fortune brought by his wife was considerable, still, to keep his carriage in london, he was obliged "to sail nearer to the wind," in other points than he found agreeable: moreover he was ambitious. a night-bell, with "night-bell" in capital letters over it, that people might be aware in the broad day that it was a night-bell, which of course they could not read in the dark, was attached to one side of the street door. it was as loud as an alarum-bell, and when rung, was to be heard from number to number , in the street where dr plausible resided. there are little secrets in all trades; and one is, how to obtain practice as a medical man, which whole mystery consists in making people believe that you have a great deal. when this is credited, practice immediately follows; and dr plausible was aware of the fact. at first setting off the carriage drew up to the door occasionally, and stood there for some time, when the doctor made his appearance, and stepped in. he then took a round of about three hours through every fashionable part of the town, sitting well forward, that every body might see him, apparently examining his visiting-book. at times he would pull up at some distinguished person's door, where were two or three carriages before him, and getting out, would go in to the porter to ask some frivolous question. another _ruse_ was, to hammer at some titled mansion, and inquire for another titled person, by mistake. this occupied the morning; after which doctor plausible returned home. during the first month the night-bell was rung two or three times a week by the watchman, who was fee'd for his trouble; but after that period it increased its duties, until it was in motion once, if not twice, every night, and his disturbed neighbours wished doctor plausible and his extensive practice at the devil. the carriage also was now rattled to the door in a hurry, and doctor plausible was seen to enter with his case of instruments, and drive off with rapidity, sometimes twice a day. in the mean time mrs plausible did her part, as she extended her acquaintance with her neighbours. she constantly railed against a medical husband; declared that doctor plausible was never at home, and it was impossible to say at what hour they might dine. the tables also were strewed with the cards of great and fashionable people, obtained by doctor plausible from a celebrated engraver's shop, by a douceur to the shopman, when the master was absent. at last doctor plausible's instruments were used in good earnest; and, although not known or even heard of in the fashionable world, he was sent for by the would-be fashionables, because they imagined that he was employed by their betters. now it so happened that in the same street there lived another medical man, almost a prototype of doctor plausible, only not quite so well off in the world. his name was doctor feasible. his practice was not extensive, and he was incumbered with a wife and large family. he also very naturally wished to extend his practice and his reputation; and, after many fruitless attempts, he at last hit upon a scheme which he thought promised to be successful. "my dear," said he, one morning to his wife, "i am thinking of getting up a _conversazione_." "a _conversazione_, my love!--why, is not that a very expensive affair?" "why, not very. but if it brings me practice, it will be money well laid out." "yes, my love, if it does, and if we had the money to lay out." "something must be done. i have hardly a patient left. i have an idea that it will succeed. go, my dear, and make up this prescription, and let the boy take it to mrs bluestone's. i wish i had a couple of dozen of patients like her.--i write her prescriptions, take my fee, and then, that i may be sure that it is properly made up, i volunteer to take it to the chemist's myself." "pray, what is the complaint of mrs bluestone, my love?" "nothing; she over-eats herself--that's all. abernethy would cure her in twenty-four hours." "well, but, my love, about this _conversazione_?" "go, and make up the prescription, my dear, and we'll talk the matter over afterwards." they did so. a list of the people they were acquainted with was drawn out, the expense calculated, and the affair settled. the first point to be considered was the size of the cards. "these, my love," said mrs feasible, who came in from a long walk with her bonnet still on, "these are three shillings and sixpence a hundred; and these, which are a size larger, are four-and-sixpence. which do you think we ought to have?" "why, really, my dear, when one sends out so many, i do not see why we should incur unnecessary expense. the three-and-sixpenny ones are quite large enough." "and the engraving will be fourteen shillings." "well, that will only be a first expense. _conversazione_, in old english, of course." "and here, my love, are the ribbons for the maid's caps and sashes; i bought them at waterloo house, very cheap, and a very pretty candle-light colour." "did you speak to them about their gowns?" "yes, my love; sally and peggy have each a white gown, betty i can lend one of my own." the difference between a _conversazione_ and a rout is simply this:--in the former you are expected to talk or listen; but to be too ethereal to eat. in the latter, to be squeezed in a crowd, and eat ices, etcetera, to cool yourself. a _conversazione_ has, therefore, a great advantage over the latter, as far as the pocket is concerned, it being much cheaper to procure food for the mind than food for the body. it would appear that tea has been as completely established the beverage of modern scientific men, as nectar was formerly that of the gods. the athenaeum gives tea; and i observed in a late newspaper, that lord g--- has promised tea to the geographical society. had his lordship been aware that there was a beverage invented on board a ship much more appropriate to the science over which he presides than tea, i feel convinced he would have substituted it immediately; and i therefore take this opportunity of informing him that sailors have long made use of a compound which actually goes by the name of _geograffy_, which is only a trifling corruption of the name of the science, arising from their laying the accent on the penultimate. i will now give his lordship the receipt, which is most simple. take a tin-pot, go to the scuttle-butt (having obtained permission from the quarter-deck), and draw off about half a pint of very offensive smelling water. to this add a gill of vinegar and a ship's biscuit broke up into small pieces. stir it well up with the fore-finger; and then with the fore-finger and thumb you may pull out the pieces of biscuit, and eat them as fast as you please, drinking the liquor to wash all down. now this would be the very composition to hand round to the geographical society. it is not christened geography without a reason; the vinegar and water representing the green sea, and the pieces of biscuit floating in it, the continents and islands which are washed by it. now, my lord, do not you thank me for my communication? but we must return to the _conversazione_ of doctor and mrs feasible. the company arrived. there was rap after rap. the whole street was astonished with the noise of the wheels and the rattling of the iron steps of the hackney-coaches. doctor feasible had procured some portfolios of prints: some indian idols from a shop in wardour street, duly labelled and christened, and several other odds and ends, to create matter of conversation. the company consisted of several medical gentlemen and their wives, the great mr b---, and the facetious mr c---. there were ten or twelve authors, or gentlemen suspected of authorship, fourteen or fifteen chemists, all scientific of course, one colonel, half-a-dozen captains, and, to crown all, a city knight and his lady, besides their general acquaintance, unscientific and unprofessional. for a beginning this was very well; and the company departed very hungry, but highly delighted with their evening's entertainment. "what can all that noise be about?" said mrs plausible to her husband, who was sitting with her in the drawing-room, reading the lancet, while she knotted, or _did not_. "i am sure i cannot tell, mrs plausible." "there, again! i'm sure if i have heard one, i have heard thirty raps at a door within this quarter of an hour. i'm determined i will know what it is," continued mrs plausible, getting up and ringing the bell. "thomas, do you know what all that noise is about?" said mrs plausible, when the servant answered the bell. "no, ma'am, i doesn't." "well, then, go and see." "yes, ma'am." the impatience of mrs plausible, during the absence of thomas, increased with the repetition of the knocks. "well, thomas?" said she, as the footman entered. "if you please, ma'am, mr feasible has got a conwersation--that's all." "got a what?" "a _conversazione_ he means, my dear. it's very strange that mr feasible should pretend to give such a thing!" "i think so too," replied the lady. "he keeps no carriage. what can be his inducement!" "i perceive," replied dr plausible, "he wants to get practice. depend upon it that's his plan. a sprat to catch a mackerel!" husband and wife were again silent, and resumed their occupations; but the lancet was not read, and the knotting was all in knots, for they were both in a brown study. at last mrs plausible commenced-- "i really do not see, my dear, why we should not give a _conversazione_ as well as dr feasible?" "i was just thinking that we could give them much better; our acquaintance now is very numerous." "and very respectable," replied the lady; "it will make us more known in the world." "and add to my practice. i'll soon beat doctor feasible out of the field!" the result of this conversation was a _conversazione_, which certainly was on a much better scale, and better attended than the one collected by doctor feasible. doctor plausible had pumped a mutual acquaintance as to the merits of his rival, and had set to work with great diligence. he ordered his carriage, and for two or three days previous to the one fixed, went round to all his friends, who had curiosities, foreign, indigenous, or continental, admired them, talked learnedly, expressed a wish to exhibit them to several gentlemen of talent at his next conversazione, pulled out a card for the party, and succeeded in returning home with his carriage stuffed with curiosities and monstrosities. negus and cherry-water were added to tea in the refreshment-room; and the conversazione of doctor plausible was pronounced by those who had been invited to both, infinitely superior to that of doctor feasible. a good-natured friend called upon doctor and mrs feasible with the news. they pretended indifference, as they bit their lips to conceal their vexation. as soon as he took his leave-- "well, my dear," said mrs feasible, "what do you think of this? very unhandsome on the part of doctor plausible! i was told this morning that several of our acquaintances have expressed a wish to be introduced to him." "we must not give up the point, my love. doctor plausible may make a splash once; but i suspect that his horses eat him out of house and home, and interfere very much with the butcher's bills. if so, we who keep no carriage can afford it better. but it's very annoying, as there will be an increase of expense." "very annoying, indeed!" replied the lady. "look at his card, my dear, it is nearly twice as large as ours. i begged it of mr tomkins, on purpose to compare it." "well then, my dear, we must order others, and mind that they measure an inch more than his. it shall cost him something before we have done, i'm determined." "you heard what mr smithson said? they gave negus and cherry-water." "we must do the same. i've a great mind to give ices." "oh! my love, remember the expense." "very true; but we can ice our negus and cherry-water. rough ice is only two-pence a pound, i believe." "well, that will be an improvement." "and there shall be more, or i'll be in the bench," replied the doctor in his wrath. the next _conversazione_, for which cards were issued by doctor feasible, was on a superior scale. there was a considerable increase of company. he had persuaded a country baronet; secured the patronage of two ladies of rank (with a slight blot on their escutcheons), and collected, amongst others, a french count (or adventurer), a baron with mustachios, two german students in their costumes and long hair, and an actress of some reputation. he had also procured the head of a new zealand chief; some red snow, or rather red water (for it was melted), brought home by captain ross; a piece of granite from the croker mountains; a kitten in spirits, with two heads and twelve legs, and half-a-dozen abortions of the feathered or creeping tribes. every thing went off well. the two last fees he had received were sacrificed to have the party announced in the morning post, and doctor feasible's triumph was complete. but it was not to last long. in ten days dr plausible's cards were again issued, larger than doctor feasible's, and with a handsome embossed border of lilies and roses. male attendants, tea and coffee, ices and liqueurs were prepared; and dr feasible's heart failed him, when he witnessed the ingress and egress of the pastrycooks, with their boxes on their heads. among his company he had already mustered up five celebrated blues; four ladies of quality, of better reputation than dr feasible's; seven or eight baronets and knights; a bishop of fernando po; three or four general officers; and a dozen french and german visitors to the country, who had not only titles, but wore orders at their button-holes. thus far had he advanced when he met newton forster, and added him to the list of the invited. in about two hours afterwards dr plausible returned home to his wife, radiant with smiles. "my dear, who _do_ you think has promised to come to-morrow night?" "who, my love?" "prince fizzybelli!" "you don't say so?" screamed the lady with her delight. "yes, most faithfully promised." "what _will_ the feasibles say?" cried the lady;--"but--is he a real prince?" "a real prince! o yes, indeed is he! well known in tartary." "well, dr plausible, i have good news for you. here is a note from mr h---, in answer to yours, in which he promises you the loan of the wax figure from germany, of a female in the first stage of par--partu--i can't make out the word." "excellent! most excellent!" cried the doctor, rubbing his hands; "now we _shall_ do." newton, who had some curiosity to see a _conversazione_, which to him was a _terra incognita_, did not fail to go at the appointed hour. he was ushered up stairs into the drawing-room, at the door of which he was received by mrs plausible, in blue and silver. the rooms not being very large, were extremely crowded, and newton at one moment found himself jammed against some curiosity, and at another treading on the toes or heels of people who accepted his apologies, looking daggers; and with a snarling, "don't mention it." but a thundering knock at the door was followed by the announcement of his highness prince fizzybelli--prince fizzybelli at the door--prince fizzybelli coming up--prince fizzybelli (enters). had it been permitted, dr plausible would have received his guest with a flourish of trumpets, as great men are upon the stage, without which it is impossible now-a-days to know a great man from a little one. however, the hired attendants did their duty, and the name of fizzybelli was fizzed about the room in every direction. dr plausible trod on the corns of old lady g---, upset miss periwinkle, and nearly knocked down a french _savant_, in his struggle to obtain the door to receive his honoured guest, who made a bow, looked at the crowd--looked at the chandelier--looked at his watch, and looked very tired in the course of five minutes, when prince fizzybelli ordered his carriage, and was off. newton, who had examined several very strange things, which occupied the tables about the room, at last made his way to the ante-room, where the crowd was much more dense than elsewhere. taking it for granted that there was something interesting to be seen, he persevered until he had forced his way to the centre, when what was his astonishment when he beheld under a long glass-case a figure of a woman modelled in wax, of exact and certainly of beautiful proportion! it was as large as life, and in a state of perfect nudity. the face lifted up, and discovered the muscles beneath: in fact, every part of the image could be removed, and presented to the curious, every part of the human frame, modelled exact, and coloured. newton was indeed astonished: he had witnessed several articles in the other room, which he had considered more fitted for the museum of an institution than a drawing-room; but this was indeed a novelty; and when, to crown all, he witnessed certain little _demireps_ of science, who fancied that not to be ashamed was now as much a proof of knowledge, as in our first parents it was of innocence, and who eyed the figure without turning away from it or blushing, he quitted the room with disgust, and returned home quite satisfied with one _conversazione_. i am not partial to blues: generally speaking, ladies do not take up science until they find that the men will not take up them; and a remarkably clever woman by reputation is too often a remarkably unpleasant, or a remarkably ugly one. but there are exceptions; exceptions that a nation may be proud of--women who can fulfil their duties to their husbands and their children, to their god and to their neighbour, although endowed with minds more powerful than allotted to one man in tens of thousands. these are heavenly blues; and, among the few, no one shines more pre-eminent than my dear mrs s---e. however, whether newton was satisfied or not, this _conversazione_ was a finisher to dr feasible, who resigned the contest. dr plausible not only carried away the palm--but, what was still worse, he carried off the "practice!" volume three, chapter eight. their only labour is to kill the time; and labour dire it is, and weary woe. they sit--they lounge--turn o'er some idle rhyme; then rising sudden--to the glass they go, or saunter forth with loitering step and slow. _castle of indolence_. captain oughton who commanded the windsor castle was an original. his figure was short and thickset, his face broad, and deeply pitted with the small-pox, his nose an apology for a nose, being a small tubercle arising mid-way between his eyes and mouth, the former of which were small, the latter wide, and displaying a magnificent row of white teeth. on the whole, it was impossible to look in his face without being immediately struck with his likeness to a bull-dog. his temperament and his pursuits were also analogous; he was a great pugilist, knew the merits of every man in the ring, and the precise date and circumstances attending every battle which had been fought for the previous thirty years. his conversation was at all times interlarded with the slang terms appropriated to the science, to which he was so devoted. in other points he was a brave and trust-worthy officer, although he valued the practical above the theoretical branches of his profession, and was better pleased when superintending the mousing of a stay or the strapping of a block, than when "flooring" the sun, as he termed it, to ascertain the latitude, or "breaking his noddle against the old woman's," in taking a lunar observation. newton had been strongly recommended to him, and captain oughton extended his hand as to an old acquaintance, when they met on the quarterdeck. before they had taken a dozen turns up and down, captain oughton inquired if newton could handle the mauleys; and on being answered in the negative, volunteered his instruction during their passage out. "you heard the end of it, i suppose?" said captain oughton, in continuance. "the end of what, sir?" "what! why, the fight. spring beat. i've cleared three hundred by him." "then, sir, i am very glad that spring beat," replied newton. "i'll back him against a stone heavier any day in the week. i've got the newspaper in the cabin, with the fight--forty-seven rounds; but we can't read it now; we must see after these soldiers and their traps. look at them," continued captain oughton, turning to a party of the troops ordered for the passage, who were standing on the gangway and booms; "every man jack, with his tin pot in his hand, and his great-coat on. twig the drum-boy, he has turned his coat--do you see, with the lining outwards to keep it clean. by jove, that's a _wrinkle_!" "how many officers do you expect, captain oughton." "i hardly know, they make such alterations in their arrangements; five or six, i believe. the boat went on shore for them at nine o'clock. they have sent her back, with their compliments, seven times already, full of luggage. there's one lieutenant, i forget his name, whose chests alone would fill up the main-deck. there's six under the half-deck," said captain oughton, pointing to them. "lieutenant winterbottom," observed newton, reading the name. "i wish to heaven that he had remained the winter, or that his chests were all to the bottom! i don't know where the devil we are to stow them. o! here they come! boatswain's mate, 'tend the side there." in a minute or thereabouts, the military gentlemen made their appearance one by one on the quarter-deck, scrutinising their gloves as they bade adieu to the side-ropes, to ascertain if they had in any degree been defiled by the adhesive properties of the pitch and tar. captain oughton advanced to receive them. "welcome, gentlemen," said he, "welcome on board. we trip our anchor in half an hour. i am afraid that i have not the pleasure of knowing your names, and must request the honour of being introduced." "major clavering, sir," said the major, a tall handsome man, gracefully taking off his hat; "the officers who accompany are (waving his hand towards them in succession) lieutenant winterbottom." lieutenant winterbottom bowed. "i've had the pleasure of reading lieutenant winterbottom's name several times this forenoon," observed captain oughton, as he returned the salute. "you refer to my luggage, i'm afraid, captain oughton?" "why, if i must say it, i certainly think you have enough for a general." "i can only reply, that i wish my rank were equal to my luggage: but it is a _general_ complaint every time i have the misfortune to embark. i trust, captain oughton, it will be the only one you will have to make of me during the passage." major clavering, who had waited during this dialogue, continued-- "captain majoribanks, whom i ought to apologise to for not having introduced first." "not at all, major: you just heard the brevet rank which winterbottom's baggage has procured him." "not the first time a man has obtained rank through his `baggage,'" observed one of the officers, _sotto voce_. "mr ansell, mr petres, mr irving." the necessary bows were exchanged, and mr williams, the first-mate, desired to show the officers to their respective accommodations, when he would be able to ascertain what part of their luggage was required, and be enabled to strike the remainder down into the after-hold. as the officers followed the first-mate down the companion-ladder, captain oughton looked at mr ansell, and observed to newton, "that fellow would _peel_ well." the windsor castle sailed, and in a few days was clear of the channel. newton, whose thoughts were of isabel revel, felt not that regret at quitting the country, usually attached to those who leave all dear to them behind. he knew that it was by following up his profession alone that he ever could have a chance of obtaining her; and this recollection, with the hopes of again beholding the object of his affections, lightened his heart to joy, as the ship scudded across the bay of biscay, before a north east gale. that he had little chance at present of possessing her, he knew; but hope leads us on, and no one more than the youth who is in love. the table of captain oughton was liberally supplied, and the officers embarked proved (as they almost invariably do) to be pleasant gentlemanlike companions. the boxing-gloves were soon produced by captain oughton, who soon ascertained that in the officer who "would _peel_ so well," he had found his match. the mornings were passed away in sparring, fencing, reading, walking the deck, or lolling on the hen-coops upon the poop. the announcement of the dinner-hour was a signal for rejoicing; and they remained late at the table, doing ample justice to the captain's excellent claret. the evening was finished with cards, cigars, and brandy _pawnee_. thus passed the time away for the first three weeks of the passage, during which period all parties had become upon intimate terms. but the voyage is in itself most tedious, and more tedious to those who not only have no duty to perform, but have few resources. as soon as the younger officers thought they might take a liberty, they examined the hen-coops, and selecting the most promising looking cocks, trimmed them for fighting; chose between themselves as their own property those which they most approved of, and for some days fed and sparred them to get them into wind, and ascertain the proper way in which they should be spurred. in the mean time, two pair of spurs were by their directions clandestinely made by the armourer of the ship, and when ready, they took advantage of the time when captain oughton was every day employed with the ship's reckoning, and the poulterer was at his dinner (viz, from twelve to one), to fight a main. the cocks which were killed in these combats were returned to the hen-coops, and supposed by the poulterer, who very often had a glass of grog, to have quarrelled within the bars. "steward," said captain oughton, "why the devil do you give us so many fowls for dinner? the stock will never last out the voyage: two roast fowls, two boiled fowls, curried fowl, and chicken pie! what can you be thinking of?" "i spoke to the poulterer on the subject, sir: he constantly brings me down fowls, and he tells me that they kill each other fighting." "fighting! never heard of fowls fighting in a coop before. they must be all game fowls." "that they are, most of them," said mr petres; "i have often seen them fighting when i have been on the poop." "so have i," continued ansell? "i have seen worse cocks in the pit." "well it's very odd; i never lost a cock this way in all my voyages. send the poulterer here; i must inquire about it." "yes, sir," replied the steward; and he quitted the cabin. with the exception of the major, who knew nothing of the circumstances, the officers thought it advisable to de-camp, that they might not be present when the _denouement_ took place. the poulterer made his appearance, was interrogated, and obliged in his own defence to criminate the parties, corroborating his assertions by producing a pair of spurs found upon a cock, which had been killed, and thrown behind the coop in a hurry at the appearance of captain oughton on deck. "i am sorry that my officers should have taken such a liberty," observed the major, gravely. "o never mind, major, only allow me to be even with them; i shouldn't have minded if i had seen the fighting. i think you said that you would like to exercise your men a little this afternoon?" "i did; that is, if not inconvenient." "not in the least, major; the quarter-deck is at your service. i presume you do not superintend yourself?" "yes, i generally do." "well, don't this time, but let all the officers; and then i shall be able to play them a little trick that will make us all square." major clavering consented. the officers were ordered up to drill their men. captain majoribanks and mr irving had one party at the platoon exercise. "third man, your hand a little higher on the barrel of your musket. as you were; support--the word support is only a caution--arms,--too--too." "two and two make four," observed one of the seamen. lieutenant winterbottom had another party on the lee-side of the quarter-deck. "ram down--cartridge.--number , slope your musket a little more--_too--too_--only two taps at the bottom of the barrel. return--ramrods. number , why don't you draw up the heel of your right leg level with the other? recollect now, when you shoulder arms, to throw your muskets up smartly.--shoulder--as you were--the word shoulder is only a caution; shoulder--arms. dress up a little number , and don't stick your stomach out in that way." mr ansell and mr petres had two fatigue parties on the poop, without muskets. "to the right--face--to the right face. to the right--face-- to the right--face." "it's a dead calm with them soldiers--head round the compass," said one of the seamen to another. "to the left--face--quick march, to the left--turn--to the right--turn-- close files--mark time--right--left--right--left--forward." "them ere chaps legs all going together put one in mind of a centipee-- don't they, tom?" "yes, but they don't get on quite so fast. holloh, what pipe's that?--`all hands, air bedding.'" the ship was hauled close to the wind, which was light. at the pipe, the sailors below ran up the hatchway, and those on deck threw down their work. in a minute every hammock was out of the netting, and every seaman busy at unlashing. "now, major, we had better go into the cabin," said captain oughton, laughing. "i shall, i can assure you." beds and blankets which are not aired or shook more than once a month, are apt to be very full of what is termed _fluff_ and blanket _hairs_, and they have a close smell, by no means agreeable. the sailors, who had an idea that the order had been given inconsiderately, were quite delighted, and commenced shaking their blankets on the forecastle and weather gangway, raising a cloud, which the wind carried aft upon the parties exercising upon the quarterdeck. "what the devil is all this?" cried captain majoribanks, looking forward with dismay. "order--arms." lieutenant winterbottom and half of his party were now seized with a fit of coughing. "confound it!--shut--pans--handle--upon my soul i'm choked." "this is most excessively disagreeable," observed mr petres; "i made up my mind to be _tarred_ when i came on board, but i had no idea that we should be _feathered_." "support--damn it, there's no supporting this!" cried captain majoribanks. "where's major clavering? i'll ask to dismiss the men." "they are dismissing a great many little men, forward, i suspect," said the first-mate, laughing. "i cannot imagine what induced captain oughton to give the order: we never shake bedding except when the ship's before the wind." this last very consoling remark made it worse than all; the officers were in an agony. there was not one of them who would not have stood the chance of a volley from a french regiment rather than what they considered that they were exposed to. but without major clavering's permission they could not dismiss their men. captain majoribanks hastened to the cabin, to explain their very un-pleasant situation, and received the major's permission to defer the exercise. "well, gentlemen," said captain oughton, "what is the matter?" "the matter!" replied ansell. "why, my flesh creeps all over me. of all the thoughtless acts, captain oughton, it really beats--" "cock-fighting," interrupted the captain, with a loud laugh. "now we are quits." the officers hastened below to wash and change their dress after this very annoying retaliation on the part of captain oughton. when they felt themselves again clean and comfortable, their good-humour returned, although they voted their captain not to be very refined in his ideas, and agreed with him that his practical joke beat "cock-fighting." i believe there are no classes of people who embark with more regret, or quit a ship with more pleasure, than military men. nor is it to be wondered at, if we consider the antithesis which is presented to their usual mode of life. few military men are studious, or inclined to reading, which is almost the only resource which is to be found against the tedium of long confinement and daily monotony. i do not say this reproachfully, as i consider it arises from the peculiarity of their profession, and must be considered to be more their misfortune than their fault. they enter upon a military life just after they have left school, the very period at which, from previous and forced application, they have been surfeited with books _usque ad nauseam_. the parade, dress, the attention paid to them, which demands civilities in return; society, and the preference shown by the fair sex; their happy and well-conducted mess; the collecting together of so many young men, with all their varied plans of amusement, into which the others are easily persuaded to enter, with just sufficient duty on guard, or otherwise, not to make the duty irksome; all delight too much at first, and, eventually from habit, too much occupy their minds, to afford time for study. in making this observation, i must be considered to speak generally. there are many studious, many well-stored minds, many men of brilliant talents, who have improved the gift of nature by constant study and reflection, and whose conduct must be considered as the more meritorious, from having resisted or overcome the strong temptation to do otherwise, which is offered by their profession. "i wish," said irving, who was stretched out his full length on one of the coops abaft, with the front of his cap drawn over his eyes--"i wish this cursed voyage was at an end. every day the same thing; no variety--no amusement--curry for breakfast--brandy pawnee as a finish. i really begin to detest the sight of a cigar or a pack of cards." "very true," replied ansell, who was stretched upon an adjacent coop in all the listlessness of idleness personified--"very true, irving; i begin to think it worse than being quartered in a country town inhabited by nobodies, where one has nothing to do but to loll and spit over the bridge all day, till the bugle sounds for dinner." "oh! that was infinitely better; at least, you could walk away when you were tired, or exchange a word or two with a girl as she passed over it, on her way to market." "why don't you take a book, irving?" observed the major, laying down the one with which he had been occupied to join the conversation. "a book, major? oh, i've read until i am tired." "what have you read since you embarked?" inquired his senior. "let me see--ansell, what have i read?" "read!--nothing at all--you know that." "well, perhaps so; we have no mess-newspapers here: the fact is, major, i am not very partial to reading--i am not in the habit of it. when on shore i have too much to do; but i mean to read by-and-bye." "and pray, when may that by-and-bye be supposed to arrive?" "oh! some day when i'm wounded or taken prisoner, and cannot do any thing else; then i shall read a good deal. here's captain oughton-- captain oughton, do you read much?" "yes, mr irving, i read a great deal." "pray, may i take the liberty to ask you what you read?" "what i read! why, i read horsburgh's directory:--and i read--i read all the fights." "i think," observed ansell, "that if a man gets through the newspaper and the novels of the day, he does a great deal." "he reads a great deal, i grant you," replied the major; "but of what value is that description of reading?" "there, major," replied ansell, "we are at issue. i consider a knowledge of the passing events of the day, and a recollection of the facts which have occurred during the last twenty years, to be more valuable than all the ancient records in existence. who talks of caesar or xenophon now-a-days, except some cambridge or oxford prig? and of what value is that knowledge in society? the escape of a modern pickpocket will afford more matter of conversation than the famous retreat of the ten thousand." "to be sure," replied captain oughton; "and a fair stand-up fight between humphreys and mendoza create more interest than the famous battles of ---, i'm sure i forget." "of marathon and thermopylae; they will do," added ansell. "i grant," replied the major, "that it is not only un-necessary, but conceited in those who would show their reading; but this does not disprove the advantages which are obtained. the mind well fed becomes enlarged: and if i may use a simile, in the same way as your horse proves his good condition by his appearance, without ascertaining the precise quantity of oats which has been given him; so the mind shows by its general vigour and power of demonstration, that it has been well supplied with `hard food.'" "very _hard food_ indeed," replied captain oughton; "nuts that i never could crack when i was at school, and don't mean to break my teeth with now. i agree with mr ansell, `that sufficient for the day is the knowledge thereof.'" "well as the tree of knowledge was the tree of evil, perhaps that is the correct reading," replied ansell, laughing; "captain oughton, you are a very sensible man; i hope we shall see you often at our mess, when we're again on shore." "you may say so now," replied captain oughton, bluntly, "and so have many more said the same thing to me; but you soldiers have cursed short memories in that way after you have landed." "i trust, captain oughton," replied major clavering, "that you will not have to make that accusation general." "oh! never mind, major, i never am affronted; the offer is made in kindness, and at the time sincere; but when people get on shore, and are so occupied with their own amusements, it is not to be wondered if they are thoughtless and forget. at one time, it did annoy me, i confess; for when i say i should be happy to see a man, i mean it; and if i did not mean it, i never would ask him. i thought that other people did the same; but i have lived long enough to discover that a `general invitation,' means, `don't come at all.'" "then i most certainly shall not say one word on the subject at present," replied the major. "how many bells was that?" "six; dinner will be on the table in a few minutes." "then, gentlemen, we had better go down and prepare. why, mr irving, you have not shaved this morning." "no, major, i mean to do it after dinner." "i should rather think that you intended to say before," replied major clavering. this gentlemanlike hint was taken by the young ensign, who was aware that major clavering, although invariably polite even in reproof, was not a commanding officer to be trifled with; and mr irving made his appearance at the dinner table with his "chin new reaped," and smooth as if appertaining to one of the fairer sex. volume three, chapter nine. come o'er the sea, maiden, with me, mine through sunshine, storm and snows; seasons may roll, but the true soul burns the same where'er it goes. let fate frown on, so we love and part not, 'tis life where thou art, 'tis death where thou'rt not. moore. the voyage was at last accomplished without adventure or interest, the windsor castle not having fallen in with more than two or three vessels during her passage. happy were the military officers to hear the order given for the anchor to be let go upon their arrival in madras roads; more happy were they to find themselves again on shore; and most happy were captain oughton and his officers to witness the debarkation of the troops, who had so long crowded their decks and impeded their motions. parting was indeed sweet sorrow, as it always will be when there is short allowance of room and still shorter allowance of water. newton forster was in a state of anxiety during the quarter of an hour in which he was obliged to attend to his duty, furling the sails and squaring the yards; and the time appeared most insupportably long, until he could venture aft to make some inquiries from the dubashes, who were crowding alongside, as to the fate of isabel revel. time and absence had but matured his passion, and it was seldom that isabel was away from his thoughts. he had a faint idea formed by hope that she was partial to him; but this was almost smothered by the fears which opposed it, when he reflected upon what might be produced by absence, importunity, and her independent spirit, which might, if not well treated by her relation, reconcile her to a marriage, which, although not in every way eligible, secured her a prospect of contentment and of peace. at last the yards were squared to the satisfaction of the boatswain, the ropes were hauled taut, and coiled down, and the men sent below to their dinners. newton walked aft, and the first person he met was the dubash who had attended the bombay castle. the cheeks of newton flushed, and his heart throbbed quick, and his lips quivered, as he asked intelligence of the colonel and his family. "colonel saib quite well, sir. two ladies marry officer." "which two?" demanded newton, eagerly. "not know how call bibi saib's names. but one not marry--she very handsome--more handsome than all." the heart of newton bounded at this intelligence, as he knew that it must be isabel who was still a spinster. this was shortly after corroborated by an english gentleman who came on board. their stay at madras was intended to be short, and newton resolved to ask immediate leave on shore. apologising to captain oughton for making such an unusual request, which he was induced to do from intelligence he had just received relative to his friends, he expressed his anxious wish. captain oughton, who had reason to be highly satisfied with newton, gave his consent in the kindest manner; "and, forster, if you wish to remain, you have my permission. we will manage without you: only recollect, we sail on thursday night." newton was soon ready, and quitted the ship with major clavering; to whose credit it ought here to be observed, that a _daily_ note was despatched to captain oughton, requesting the pleasure of his company at the mess, until he was satisfied that, in this instance, the general invitation was sincere. as soon as he was clear of the surf, and out of the masulah boat, newton hired a conveyance, and drove out to the bungalo of the old colonel. he trembled as he announced his name to the butler, who ushered him half way to the receiving room; and, like most of the natives, finding some difficulty in pronouncing english, contented himself with calling out "burrah saib," and then walked off. newton found himself in the presence of the old veteran and isabel. the latter had been reading a new publication, which she laid down at the voice of the butler announcing a visitor. but "burrah saib" may be any body; it implies a gentleman. what then was the surprise of isabel, who had no intimation of his arrival, when newton forster made his appearance? her exclamation of delight, as she ran to him and extended her hand, made newton forster but too happy; and, as for a few seconds he held the hand not withdrawn, and looked in her beaming eyes, he quite forgot the presence of the colonel. a glance from the eye of isabel in the direction where the old gentleman was seated, brought newton to his recollection. he walked up to the colonel, who shook hands, and declared that he was most glad to see him. "you take up your quarters here, of course, mr forster?" "i shall have great pleasure in availing myself of your kind offer for a day or two," replied newton. "i trust that you have been in good health since we parted." "not very; that is, latterly. i am thinking of a change of climate. i intend to go home in october. i suppose you have been informed that the two young women have married?" "i was told so by some one who came on board." "yes. isabel, my dear, order a chamber for mr forster." isabel left the room. "yes, both married--thought of nothing else--regularly came out on spec. in less than a month they knew the exact rank of every gentleman in the presidency; ascertained their prospects, and the value of their appointments; turned the rupees into pounds sterling; broke off a conversation with an ensign at the sight of a lieutenant; cut the lieutenant for a captain; were all smiles for a major; and actually made love themselves to any body who was above that rank, and a bachelor. they made their decision at last; indeed pretty quick. they were only four months on my hands. both up the country now." "i trust they have married well, sir?" "that depends upon circumstances. they have married young men not used to the climate. may be widows in half a year. if their husbands weather it, of course they will come in for their share of the good things; but i'll warrant they will never be able to leave the country." "not leave the country, sir! may i ask why?" "because they have married foolish, extravagant wives, who will run them in debt; and when once in debt, it is no easy matter in this country to get out of it. they must insure their lives for the money which they borrow; and as the house of agency will be gainers by their demise, of course they will not be permitted to leave the country and their chance of the _cholera morbus_. don't you think that my niece looks remarkably well?" "i do; the climate does not appear to have affected her." "rather improved her," replied the colonel; "she is not so thin as when she came on shore. god bless her! i'm sure, mr forster, i am under great obligations to you for having persuaded me to go for the dear girl when she arrived. she has been a treasure to me! if she has had one, she has had twenty offers since you left; many unexceptionable; but she has refused them all. in some instances i have persuaded her--i thought it was my duty. but no; she has but one answer, and that is a decided one. she will not leave me. she has watched and attended me in my sickness as my own daughter. i say again, god bless her!" it was with delight that newton heard these encomiums upon isabel, and, her resolution not to marry. whether it was wholly on account of not wishing to leave the colonel or not, still every delay gave him more chance of ultimate success. isabel, who had stayed away that the colonel might have time to make any communications to newton, now returned, and the conversation became general. newton entered into a narrative of what had occurred during his passage home, and amused them with his anecdotes and conversation. in about an hour the colonel rose from his chair that he might prepare for dinner; and then it was that newton perceived the great change which had taken place. he was no longer upright but bowed down; his step was no longer firm, it was almost tottering; and, as he left the room, newton's eyes met those of isabel. "you think him ill?" said isabel, inquiringly. "yes, i do, miss revel. he is very much changed; his stamina appears to have been exhausted by the climate. i trust he will go home, as he proposes." "he has been ill--very ill indeed. he talks constantly of going home; he has done so for months; but when the time comes he puts it off. i wish you would persuade him." "i will do all i can; but if you cannot prevail, i'm afraid that my persuasion will be of little use." "indeed, i think otherwise; you have power over him, mr forster. i have not forgot how kindly you exercised it in my behalf. we--that is," continued isabel, colouring up, "the colonel has often talked of you since you quitted us." "i feel highly flattered by his remembrance," replied newton; "but you are in mourning, miss revel. if not a liberty from one who feels an interest in all concerning you, may i inquire for whom?" "it is for my father," replied isabel, with emotion, sitting down and passing her hand across her eyes. "i never heard of his death, and must apologise for having been so indiscreet as to renew your sorrow. how long is it since? and what was his complaint?" "he had no complaint--would to god that he had had! he was shot in a duel," replied isabel, as the tears coursed down her cheeks. "oh! mr forster, i trust i am resigned to the dispensations of providence, but-- that he should be summoned away at the moment when he was seeking the life of his fellow-creature, with all the worst passions in excitement-- unprepared--for he was killed on the spot. these reflections will make his death a source of bitter regret, which can terminate but with existence." "your mother is still alive?" inquired newton, to change the painful subject. "yes, but very ill; the last accounts were very distressing; they say that her complaint is incurable." newton regretted having brought up so painful a subject. a few words of condolence and sympathy were offered, and they separated to prepare for dinner. newton remained four days under the roof of the colonel, during which time he was constantly in the society of isabel; and when the period of his departure arrived, he had just grounds to imagine that were all obstacles in other points removed, isabel revel would not, on her part, have raised any against the accomplishment of his wishes; but their mutual dependent situations chased away all ideas of the kind for the present, and although they parted with unconcealed emotion, not a word which could be construed into a declaration of attachment was permitted to escape his lips. the windsor castle sailed for calcutta, and in a few days anchored at kedgeree to wait for a pilot to come down the river. during their short stay at this anchorage, mr williams, the first-mate, who was an old indian voyager, went on shore every evening to follow up his darling amusement of shooting jackals, a description of game by no means scarce in that quarter of the world. often remonstrated with for his imprudence in exposing himself to the heavy night-dew he would listen to no advice. "it was very true," he acknowledged, "that his brother had died of a jungle fever in pursuing the same amusement, and what was more, the fowling-piece in his hand belonged to his brother, who had bequeathed it to him; but as he had never heard of two brothers dying from a jungle fever taken by shooting jackals, he considered that the odds were strongly in his favour." this argument, however specious, did not prove good. the third morning he returned on board, complaining of a head-ache and shivering. he was bled and put into his bed, which he never left again. before the windsor castle was ready to sail, the remains of mr williams were consigned to the burying-ground at diamond harbour, and newton forster was promoted to the rank of first-mate of the windsor castle. this, as will hereafter be proved, was a most fortunate occurrence to newton forster. the windsor castle sailed with leave to call at madras for letters or passengers, and in a few days was again at anchor in the roadstead. the first intelligence which they received upon their arrival was, that the cholera morbus had been very fatal, and that among others, the old colonel had fallen a victim to the disease. newton again obtained permission to go on shore to isabel. he found her in distress at the house of a mrs enderby, a lady who had lost her husband by the same ravaging epidemic, and who had long been the intimate friend of the colonel and of isabel. mrs enderby was about to return to england by the first vessel, and had advised isabel to take so favourable an opportunity of a chaperone. isabel, who had many reasons for wishing to leave the country, particularly the declining state of her mother's health, had consented; and it was with great pleasure that she received from newton the information of the best cabins of the windsor castle not having been hitherto engaged. the colonel's will had been opened. he had bequeathed his property, the whole of which, with the exception of his establishment in india, was invested in the english funds, to his grand-niece isabel revel. it amounted to nearly seventy thousand pounds. it would be difficult to say whether newton forster felt glad or sorry at this intelligence. for isabel's sake, he undoubtedly was glad, but he could not but feel that it increased the distance between them, and on that account, and on that alone, his reflections were painful. "had it," thought he, "been five thousand, or even ten thousand pounds, it would have been different. in the course of a few years i might have been able to produce an equivalent to it, and--but this fortune has raised her above my hopes; even if she had a prepossession in my favour, it would be dishonest to take advantage of it." isabel revel had very different feelings on the subject;--she was her own mistress, and her manner to newton was more cordial, more confidential than before. she had not forgotten that newton had shown the same regard and partiality for her when she was going out to india; and afterwards, when in distress, he had been her friend and admirer when in adversity. she knew his feelings towards her, and she had appreciated his delicacy and forbearance. lately she had seriously analysed her own, and her analysis was wound up by a mental acknowledgment, that her wealth would be valueless, if she could not share it with newton forster. at the request of mrs enderby, the poop cabins were engaged for isabel and herself. their time for preparation was short; but one day more having been obtained from captain oughton, through the influence of newton, mrs enderby and isabel embarked, and the windsor castle spread her canvas, sailing away from pestilence and death. newton forster--by captain marryat volume three, chapter ten. "britannia needs no bulwark, no towers along the steep, her march is o'er the mountain waves, her home is on the deep." campbell. the _windsor castle_ ploughed through the vast ocean of waters before a propitious gale, laden with treasure, in the safe arrival of which so many were interested. but what were all the valuables stowed away in her frame, in the opinion of newton forster, in comparison with the lovely being who had intrusted them with her safe conduct to her native country! the extreme precautions adopted or suggested by newton for security during the night--his nervous anxiety during the day--became a source of laughter and ridicule to captain oughton; who once observed to him,--"newton, my boy, i see how the land lies, but depend upon it the old ship won't tumble overboard a bit sooner than before; so one reef in the top-sails will be quite sufficient." indeed, although they "never mentioned it," it was impossible for either of them to disguise their feelings. their very attempts at concealment only rendered them more palpable to everyone on board. captain oughton, who was very partial to newton, rejoiced in his good fortune. he had no objection to young people falling or being in love on board of his ship, although he would not have sanctioned or permitted a marriage to take place during the period that a young lady was under his protection. once landed on deal beach, as he observed, they might "buckle to" as soon as they pleased. the _windsor castle_ was within two hundred miles of the mauritius, when a strange vessel was discovered on the weather beam, bearing down to them with all the canvas she could spread. her appearance was warlike; but what her force might be, it was impossible to ascertain at the distance she was off, and the position which she then offered, being then nearly "end on." "can you make out her hull, mr forster?" cried captain oughton, hailing newton, who was at the mast-head with a glass. "no, sir; her fore-yard is but now clear of the water, but she rises very fast." "what do you think of her spars, forster?" said captain oughton to newton, who had just descended to the last rattling of the main-rigging. "she is very taut, sir, and her canvas appears to be foreign." "i'll bet you what you please it's that damned fellow surcoeuf. this is just his cruising-ground, if the report of that neutral vessel was correct." "another hour will decide the point, sir," replied newton; "but i must say i think your surmise likely to prove correct. we may as well be ready for him: a cruiser she certainly is." "the sooner the better, mr forster. he's but a `rum customer,' and `a hard hitter' by all accounts. clear up the decks, and beat to quarters." the strange vessel came down with such rapidity that, by the time the captain's orders were obeyed, she was not more than two miles distant. "there's `in studding-sails,'--and in devilish good style too!" observed captain oughton. "now we shall see what he's made of." the vessel rounded to the wind as soon as she had reduced her sails, on the same tack as the _windsor castle_, displaying her broadside, as the french would say, _herisee des canons_. "a corvette, sir," said newton, reconnoitring through his glass; "two-and-twenty guns besides her bridle ports. she is french rigged;-- the rake of her stern is french;--in fact, she is french all over." "all lombard street to a china orange, 'tis surcoeuf," replied captain oughton, who, with the rest of his officers, had his glass upon the vessel. "there goes the tricoloured flag to prove i've won my bet. answer the challenge. toss my hat up.--pshaw! i mean hoist the colours there abaft. mr thomas," continued captain oughton, addressing the boatswain, "send the ship's company aft.--forster, you had better see the ladies down below." at the summons of the boatswain, the men came aft, and stood in a body on the leeside of the quarterdeck, with their hats off, and impatience in their looks. "now, my lads," said captain oughton, "if i am not mistaken, that vessel is commanded by the very best seaman that ever left a french port, and to do him justice, he's a damnation fine fellow!--a severe punisher, and can take a mauling as well as give one." "yes, sir, so can we," replied several of the men together. "i know you can, my lads; and give and take is fair play. all i say is, let it be a fair stand up fight, and `may the best man win.' so now, my lads, if you're ready to come to the scratch, why, the sooner we peel the better--that's all." "hurrah!" cried the seamen, as they separated to their quarters; and, in compliance with the injunctions of the captain, threw off their jackets, and many of them their shirts, to prepare for the conflict. the corvette, after she had rounded to, and exchanged colours, reduced her sails to precisely the same canvas as that carried by the _windsor castle_. this was to try her rate of sailing. in a quarter of an hour, her superiority was manifest. she then hauled up her courses, and dropped to her former position on the _windsor castle's_ weather-beam. "the fellow has the heels of us, at all events," observed captain oughton; "but, forster, the ladies are not yet below. mrs enderby, i am sorry to be obliged to put you in confinement for a short time. miss revel, you must do me the favour to accept of mr forster's convoy below the water-line." newton offered his arm to isabel, and followed captain oughton, who escorted mrs enderby. his heart was swelling with such variety of feeling that he could not at first trust himself to speak. when they had descended the ladder, and were picking their way, stepping over the rammers, sponges, and tackles, stretched across the main-deck, newton observed--"this is not the first time i have been commissioned to place you in security. i trust i shall again have the pleasure of relieving you from your bondage." isabel's lips quivered as she replied, "i trust in god that you may, mr forster!--but--i feel more anxious now than i did on the former occasion. i--" "i have a foreboding," interrupted newton, "that this day's work is to make or mar me! why, i cannot tell, but i feel more confident than the chances would warrant; but farewell, isabel--god bless you!"--and newton, pressing her hand, sprang up the ladder to his station on the quarter-deck. i have before observed that a man's courage much depends upon his worldly means or prospects. a man who has much to lose, whatever the property may consist of, will be less inclined to fight than another whose whole capital consists of a "light heart and a thin pair of breeches." upon the same reasoning, a man in love will not be inclined to fight as another. death then cuts off the sweetest prospects in existence. lord st. vincent used to say that a married man was damned for the service. now (bating the honeymoon), i do not agree with his lordship. a man in love may be inclined to play the mark antony; but a married man, "come what will, he has been blessed." once fairly into action, it then is of little consequence whether a man is a bachelor, or married, or in love; the all-absorbing occupation of killing your fellow-creatures makes you for the time forget whether you are a beggar or a prince. when newton returned on deck, he found that the corvette had gradually edged down until nearly within point-blank range. "shall we lay the main-topsail to the mast?" observed newton. "we shall see his manoeuvres." "why, he hardly would be fool enough to bear down to us," replied captain oughton; "he is a determined fellow, i know; but i believe not a rash one. however, we can but try. square the main-yard." as soon as the _windsor castle_ was hove-to, the courses of the enemy were seen to flutter a few moments in the breeze, and then the canvas was expanded. when the vessel had gathered sufficient way, she hove in stays, and crossed the _windsor castle_ on the opposite tack. "i thought so," observed captain oughton. "the fellow knows what he is about. he'll not `put his head in chancery,' that's clear. how cautious the rascal is! it's very like the first round of a fight--much manoeuvring and wary sparring before they begin to make play." the corvette stood on the opposite tack until well abaft the beam. she then wore round, and ranged up on the weather quarter of the indiaman. when within two cables' length of the _windsor castle_, who had, a little before, filled her main-topsail to be in command, the frenchman hauled up his foresail, and discovered his lower rigging manned by the ship's company, who gave a loud but hasty cheer, and then disappeared. one cock crowing is a challenge, sure to be answered, if the antagonist is game. the english seamen sprang up to return the compliment, when captain oughton roared out, "to your guns, you fools! hard down with the helm--fly the jib-sheet--check headbraces--look out now, my lads." the corvette had already put her helm up and paid off to pass under the stern of the _windsor castle_, with the intention, of raking her. the promptitude of captain oughton foiled the manoeuvre of the frenchman; which would have been more fatal had the english seamen been in the rigging to have been swept off by his grape-shot. as the _windsor castle_ was thrown upon the wind, an exchange of broadsides took place, which, according to the usual custom of all well regulated broadsides in close conflict, cut away a certain proportion of the spars and rigging, and cut up a proportion of the ships' companies. the _windsor castle_, worked by newton, bracing round on the other tack, and the corvette rounding to on the same, the two vessels separated for a few minutes. "devilish well stopped, newton, wasn't it?" said captain oughton, showing his white teeth. "look out again--here she comes." the corvette again attempted to rake as she ranged up after tacking, by throwing herself up in the wind; but captain oughton, watching the slightest variation of his adversary's career, gradually edging away, and then putting his helm up, manoeuvred that the broadsides should again be exchanged. this second exchange was more effectual than the first. "a stomacher, and both down!" cried captain oughton, as he surveyed the deck. "be quick, newton, hand the men below. don't bring her to the wind yet, he has lost his way by luffing up, and cannot make play again for a few minutes." after the second broadside, the vessels were much further apart, from the _windsor castle_ running off the wind, while the corvette was too much crippled to work with her usual rapidity. this was convenient to both parties, as the last broadside had been very mischievous. the frenchman, low in the water, had suffered less in her hull and ship's company, but more in her spars and rigging. the foremast was nearly cut in half by the carronade shot of her antagonist; her mainyard was badly wounded, and her wheel knocked to atoms, which obliged them to steer on the lower deck. the _windsor castle_ had received five shots in her hull, three men killed, and six wounded; three of her main shrouds cut in two, and her mizzenmast badly wounded. it was a quarter of an hour before the frenchman returned to the attack. captain oughton had again hauled his wind, as if not wishing to decline the combat; which, indeed, the superior sailing of his antagonist prevented. the corvette appeared to have given up manoeuvring; whether from the crippled state of her spars and sails, or from perceiving that he had hitherto gained nothing by his attempts. he now ranged up to within two cables' lengths of the _windsor castle_, and recommenced the action, broadside to broadside. the breeze was lulled by the concussion of the air; and both vessels continued in the same position, and at the same distance for upwards of an hour, pouring in their broadsides, every shot of which was effectual. "now, this is what i call a reg'lar set-to. fire away, my lads," cried captain oughton, rubbing his hands. "a proper rally this. damn it, but he's game!" the wounded mizzen-mast of the _windsor castle_ received another shot in the heart of it, which threw it over the side. every part of her hull proved the severe and well directed fire of the enemy; her sails were as ragged as jeremy didler's pocket-handkerchief; her remaining masts pitted with shot; the bulwarks torn away in several places; the boats on the booms in shivers; rigging cut away fore and aft, and the ends swinging to and fro with the motion of the vessel; her decks in confusion; and some of her guns, from necessity, deserted. captain oughton, newton, and the rest of the officers, continued to encourage the men, giving them assistance in working the guns; and the ship's company appeared to have fully imbibed the bull-dog spirit of their commander. the fire of the _windsor castle_ had been equally destructive. the vessels had gradually neared each other in the calm; and the height of the _windsor castle_ out of the water, in comparison with the corvette, had given her the advantage in sweeping the decks of the enemy. the contending vessels were in this situation, when, for a minute or two, a cessation of firing took place, in consequence of the accumulation of smoke, which had so completely enshrouded them both that they knew not where to direct their guns; and they waited until it should clear away, that the firing might recommence. a light air gradually swept the veil to leeward, and discovered both vessels to each other, at the distance of half a cable's length. captain oughton was with newton on the poop, and the commander of the french corvette was standing on the hammock nettings of his own vessel. the latter took off his hat, and courteously saluted his adversary. captain oughton answered the salutation; and then waving his hat, pointed to the english colours, which had been hoisted at the main; as much as to say, "they never shall come down!" the frenchman (it was surcoeuf) did the same to the tricolour, and the action recommenced. "well done, my lads!" cried captain oughton; "well done! that broadside was a staggerer--right into his ribs. hurrah now, my hearts of oak! this fellow's worth fighting. aim at his foremast--another broadside will floor it. it's on the reel. newton, jump forward, and--" but the order was stopped by a grape-shot, which struck captain oughton in the breast. he staggered and fell from the poop to the quarter-deck. newton leapt down, and went to him. the torrents of blood from his breast at once told the tale: and newton called to some of the men, that his commander might be taken below. "wait a moment, my dear lad," said captain oughton, faintly, and catching his breath at every word; "it's a finisher--can't come to time--i die game." his head fell on his breast, and the blood poured out of his mouth. newton directed the body to be taken into the cuddy, that the men might not be dispirited by the sight. he then hastened to the poop, that he might reconnoitre the enemy. he perceived that the corvette had hauled on board his tattered courses, and was standing ahead of them. "he's off, sir," cried one of the quarter-masters. "i suspect not," replied newton, who had his glass to his eye, looking upon the decks of the french vessel. "they are preparing to board, and will be round again in five minutes. cutlasses and pikes ready-- forward, my lads, all of us! we must beat them off!" "and will, too," cried the seamen, as in obedience to their orders, they collected on the forecastle. but they mustered thin; nearly half of the ship's company were either lying dead or under the hands of the surgeon; and, as newton surveyed his little force, fatigued as they were with their exertions, black with powder, stained with blood, and reeking with perspiration, he could not but acknowledge how heavy were the odds against the attack of a vessel so well manned as the corvette appeared to be. newton said but a few words; but they were to the point; and he had the satisfaction to perceive, as they grasped their cutlasses, that if their numbers were few and their frames exhausted, their spirit was as unsubdued as ever. the corvette had in the meantime run ahead on a wind, about a mile, when she wore round, and was now standing right on to the _windsor castle_, and had neared to within three cables' lengths. a few minutes were to decide the point. her courses were again hauled up, and discovered her lee fore-rigging, bowsprit, cat-heads, and forecastle, crowded with men ready for the dash on board, as soon as the vessels should come in contact newton stood on one of the forecastle guns surrounded by his men; not a word was spoken on board of the _windsor castle_, as they watched their advancing enemy. they were within a cable's length of each other, and newton could plainly distinguish the features of the gallant surcoeuf, who was in advance on the knight-heads, when a puff of wind, which at any other time would not have occasioned the starting of a royal sheet, took the sails of the corvette; and her wounded foremast, laden with men in the lee-rigging, unable to bear the pressure, fell over the side, carrying with it the maintop-mast, and most of the crew, who had been standing in the rigging, and leaving the corvette an encumbered wreck. a loud shout from the forecastle of the _windsor castle_ announced that the english seamen were but too well aware of their desperate situation, and that they hailed the misfortune of the frenchmen as their deliverance. "now, my lads, be smart," cried newton, as he sprang aft to the wheel, and put up the helm; "man the flying jib-halyards (the jib was under the forefoot); let go the main-top bowling; square the main-yard. that will do; she's paying off. man your guns; half a dozen broadsides, and it's all our own." the sun had disappeared below the horizon, and the shades of evening had set in, before this manoeuvre had been accomplished. several broadsides were poured into the corvette, which had the desired effect of crippling her still more, and her encumbered condition prevented any return. at last the night hid both vessels from each other; and the breeze freshening fast, it was necessary that the remaining masts of the _windsor castle_ should be properly secured. the guns were therefore abandoned; and during the time the seamen were employed in knotting the rigging and bending the spare sails, newton consulted with his brother officers, who were unanimous in agreeing that all had been done that could be expected, and that to wait till the ensuing day, when the corvette would have repaired her damages, would be attended with a risk of capture, which the valuable property entrusted to their charge would never authorise. it was not until past midnight that the _windsor castle_ was in a condition to make sail; but long before this, newton had contrived to leave the deck for a few minutes to communicate with isabel. with most of the particulars, and with the death of captain oughton, she had already been made acquainted; and if there could be any reward to newton, for his gallantry and his prudence, more coveted than another, it was the affectionate greeting with which he was welcomed and congratulated by isabel, her eyes beaming with tears of delight as they glanced from his face, and were shrouded on the deck. love and murder make a pretty mixture, although as antithetical as the sweet and acid in punch,--a composition which meets the approbation of all sensible, discriminating people. but i shall leave the reader to imagine all he pleases, and finish the chapter by informing him that, when the sun again made his appearance, the corvette was not to be discovered from the mast-head. the guns were therefore properly secured; the decks washed; a jury mizzen-mast stuck up abaft; captain oughton, and the gallant fellows who had fallen in the combat, committed to the deep with the usual ceremonies; the wounded made as comfortable as possible in their hammocks; the carpenters busied with the necessary repairs; and the _windsor castle_, commanded by newton forster, running before a spanking breeze, at the rate of eight knots per hour. volume three, chapter eleven. ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land rats, and water rats, water thieves, and land thieves; i mean pirates. shakespeare. most prophetical was the remark made by newton forster to isabel previous to the action; to wit, that it would make or mar him. the death of captain oughton, and the spirited defence of the windsor castle, were the _making_ of newton forster. as a subordinate officer he might have been obliged to toil many years before he could have ascended to the summit of the ladder of promotion; and during the time which he remained in that situation, what chance had he of making an independence, and proposing for the hand of isabel revel? but now, that by a chain of circumstances peculiarly fortuitous, he was in command of an east indiaman, returning home after having beat off a vessel of equal if not superior force, and preserved a cargo of immense value, he felt confident that he not only would be confirmed to his rank which he was now called upon to assume, but that he had every prospect of being employed. as a captain of an indiaman, he was aware that reception into society, wealth, and consideration awaited him; and, what made his heart to swell with gratitude and exultation, was the feeling that soon he would be enabled to aspire to the hand of one to whom he had so long been ardently attached. as the windsor castle plunged through the roaring and complaining seas, with all the impetus of weight in motion, newton's eyes were radiant with hope, although his demeanour towards isabel was, from the peculiar circumstances attending their situation, more delicately reserved than before. when the windsor castle touched at st. helena, newton had the good fortune to obtain a supply of able seamen, more than sufficient for the remanning of his ship. they had been sent there in an empty brig by a french privateer, who had captured many vessels, and had been embarrassed with the number of her prisoners. having obtained the stores which were required, newton lost no time in prosecuting his voyage to england. it was about a fortnight after they had quitted st. helena that a strange sail was reported on the starboard bow; and, as they neared her, it was evident that her foremast was gone, and that she was otherwise in a disabled state.--when the indiaman was within a mile, the stranger threw out neutral colours, and hoisted a whiff, half-mast down, as a signal that she was in distress. newton ordered the ship to be kept away, and when alongside of the vessel, lowered down a boat, and sent the third mate to ascertain what assistance could be afforded. with sailors, thank god! distress, is sufficient to obtain assistance, and the nation or country are at once merged in that feeling of sympathy for those misfortunes, which may perhaps but the next hour befall ourselves. the boat returned, and the officer informed newton that the vessel was from the island of bourbon, bound to hamburgh;--that she had been dismasted and severely injured in a gale off the cape of good hope; and that when her mast went over the side, one half of her crew, who were up at the time on the fore-yard had been cast overboard and drowned: that from the want of men and material, they had been unable to rig an effective jury-mast, and had in consequence been so long on their passage, that their provisions and water were nearly expended. the officer concluded by stating, that there were a french lady and two gentlemen, with their attendants, who had taken their passage home in the vessel. newton immediately went down the side, and pulled on board of the vessel to ascertain what assistance could be afforded. when he arrived on board, he was met by the flemish captain, who commenced a statement of his misfortunes and his difficulties, when the french lady, who, unobserved by newton, had come up the companion-ladder, screamed out as she ran into his arms-- "ah! mon dieu!--c'est monsieur nu-tong!" newton looked at the lady, who had burst into tears, as her face laid upon his shoulder, and immediately recognised his former kind and affectionate friend, madame de fontanges: close to him, with his hand extended, was her generous husband. the meeting was joyful, and newton was delighted that circumstances had enabled him to render assistance to those who had been so kind to him in his former distress. "oh! monsieur nu-tong, nous avons tant soufferts! ah! mon dieu!--point de l'eau--rien a manger," cried madame de fontanges; then smiling through her tears, "mais ce rencontre est charmant;--n'est ce pas mon ami?" continued the lady, appealing to her husband. "you do not remember monsieur le marquis?" said monsieur de fontanges to newton, newton turned his head, and recognised the governor of guadaloupe, who had expressed such sympathy at his shipwreck, and had sent him away in the cartel instead of detaining him as a prisoner. the vessel was indeed in a deplorable condition, and had she not received the timely assistance now afforded, would in all probability have soon been a scene of horror and of suffering. they had not more than three days' water remaining on board, and provisions barely sufficing for three days. newton hastened to send back the boat with orders for an immediate and ample supply of these necessaries, in case of bad weather coming on, and preventing further communication. satisfied that their immediate wants were relieved, newton took leave of his friends for the present, and returned on board of his own ship, despatching his carpenters and part of his crew to the immediate refit of the vessel, and then selecting a part of every thing that the windsor castle contained in her store-rooms or on her decks, which he thought would administer to the comfort or the luxury of the passengers on board of the neutral. in two hours, they, who were in a state bordering upon famine, found themselves revelling in plenty. before night, the english seamen had a jury-mast up, and the sails set. the hollanders on board would have given their assistance, but they were told to remain on deck and make up for lost time, which they acquiesced in very readily, eating and drinking as if they were determined to lay in a stock for the remainder of the voyage. newton, who had returned on-board of the neutral to superintend the repairs and enjoy the society of his old friends, received from them a long account of what had occurred since their separation. at nightfall he took his leave, promising to continue under easy sail and remain with them for a day or two, until they were satisfied that all was right, and that they no longer required his assistance. the narrative obtained by newton may be thus condensed for the information of the reader. the marquis de fontanges had been appointed from the government of guadaloupe, to that of the island of bourbon, which was considered of more importance. monsieur and madame de fontanges accompanied him to his new command; and they had remained there for two years, when the ruling powers, without any ground, except that the marquis had received his appointment from the former government, thought proper to supersede him. frigates were not so plentiful as to spare one for the return of an ex-governor; and the marquis being permitted to find his way home how he could, had taken advantage of the sailing of the hamburgher, to return to europe or to france, or as he might find it advisable. for two days, during which the weather was so fine that madame de fontanges and the gentlemen went on board of the windsor castle, and were introduced to the ladies, newton continued under easy sail, each day despatching to the neutral every thing which his gratitude could suggest; but, as newton was most anxious to proceed on his voyage, it was agreed that the next morning they should part company. at the close of the evening a strange sail was observed on the weather-beam; but, as she carried no foretop-gallant sail, and appeared to be steering the same course as the windsor castle, she excited but a momentary observation, supposing that she was some homeward-bound neutral, or a merchant vessel which had separated from her convoy. during the night, which was dark, the moon being in her first quarter, the officer of the middle-watch lost sight of their _protegee_; but this was to be expected, as she did not carry a light. before morning the wind fell, and when the sun arose it was a perfect calm. the officer of the watch, as the day dawned, went on the poop, surveying the horizon for their companion, and discovered her six or seven miles astern, lying alongside of the strange vessel which they had seen the day before. both vessels, as well as the windsor castle, were becalmed. he immediately went down to newton, acquainting him with the circumstance, which bore a very suspicious appearance. newton hastened on deck; with his glass he could plainly distinguish that the stranger was a vessel of a low, raking description, evidently no merchant-man, but built for sailing fast, and in all probability a privateer. the man at the mast-head reported that boats were constantly passing between the two vessels, newton, who felt very anxious for the safety of his friends, accepted the offer of the second-mate to take the gig, and ascertain what was going on. in little more than an hour the gig was seen from the mast-head to arrive within half a mile of the vessels, and shortly afterwards the smoke from a gun, followed by a distant report. the gig then winded, and pulled back towards the windsor castle. it was in a state of great excitement that newton waited for her return, when the second-mate informed him that on his approach he discovered that she was a flush vessel, pierced for fourteen guns, painted black, and apparently well manned; that she evidently, to use a nautical term, was "gutting the neutral;" and that, as they had witnessed, on their boat coming within range, the vessel had fired a round of grape, which fortunately fell short of them. she had shown no colours; and, from her appearance and behaviour (as all privateers respect neutrals), he had no doubt that she was the pirate vessel, stated, when they were at st. helena, to be cruising in these latitudes. newton was of the same opinion; and it was with a heavy heart that he returned to the cabin, to communicate the unpleasant intelligence to mrs enderby and isabel. there is nothing more annoying in this world than the will without the power. at any time, a vessel becalmed is considered a very sufficing reason for swearing by those who are on board of her. what then must have been the feelings of newton, lying on the water in a state of compelled inaction, while his friends were being plundered, and perhaps murdered by a gang of miscreants before his eyes! how eagerly and repeatedly did he scan the horizon for the coming breeze! how did hope raise her head at the slightest cat's paw that ruffled the surface of the glassy waters! three successive gales of wind are bad enough; but three gales blowing hard enough to blow the devil's horns off are infinitely preferable to one idle, stagnant, motionless, confounded calm, oppressing you with the blue devils, and maddening you with the fidgets at one and the same time. at last, as the sun descended, the breeze sprung up, first playing along the waters in capricious and tantalising airs, as if uncertain and indifferent in its infancy to which quarter of the compass it should direct its course. the ship again answered her helm; her head was put the right way, and the sails were trimmed to every shift which it made, to woo its utmost power. in a quarter of an hour it settled, blowing from a quarter which placed them to-windward of, and they carried it down with them to within two miles of the stranger and the neutral, who still remained becalmed. but, as the wind freshened, it passed a-head of them, sweeping along the surface, and darkening the colours of the water, until it reached the vessels to leeward; one of which, the one that newton was so anxious to get along-side of, immediately took advantage of it, and, spreading all her canvas, soon increased her distance. when the windsor castle arrived abreast of the neutral, the stranger was more than two miles to leeward. a little delay was then necessary to ascertain what had occurred. newton, who perceived monsieur de fontanges on the deck, shouting to them and wringing his hands, rounded to, lowered down a boat, and pulled on board of the neutral. the intelligence communicated was distressing. the strange vessel was a pirate, who had plundered them of every thing, had taken away madame de fontanges, mimi and charlotte, her two female attendants. the captain of the pirates had wounded, and severely beaten monsieur de fontanges, who had resisted the "_enlevement_" of his wife; and, after having cut away all the standing rigging, and nearly chopped through the masts with axes, they had finished their work by boring holes in the counter of the vessel; so that, had not newton been able to come up with her, they must all have perished during the night. there was no time to be lost; the marquis de fontanges, monsieur de fontanges, and the crew, were hurried on board of the windsor castle (the pirate had taken care that they should not be delayed in packing up their baggage,) and newton, as soon as he returned on board, and hoisted up his boat, crowded every stitch of canvas in pursuit of the pirate, who was now more than four miles distant. but, although the wind gradually increased, and was thus far in their favour, as they first benefited by it, yet, as the sun went down, so did their hopes descend. at night-fall the pirate had, increased her distance to seven miles. newton pursued, watching her with a night-glass until she could no longer be distinguished. still, their anxiety was so great, that no one went to bed on board of the windsor castle. when the day broke, the pirate was not to be discovered in any quarter of the horizon from the mast-head of the windsor castle. volume three, chapter twelve. she stood a moment as a pythoness stands on her tripod, agonised and full of inspiration gather'd from distress, when all the heart-strings, like wild horses, pull the heart asunder; then, as more or less their speed abated or their strength grew dull, she sunk down on her seat by slow degrees, and bow'd her throbbing head o'er trembling knees. byron. it was with deep regret that newton gave directions for the ship's head to be again directed on her course to england; but the property under his charge was of too great value to warrant risking it by cruising after the pirates, the superior sailing of whose vessel afforded no hopes of success. the melancholy situation of madame de fontanges threw a gloom over the party, which was communicated even to the seamen; while the anguish of monsieur de fontanges, expressed with all the theatrical violence characteristic of his nation, was a source of continual reminiscence and regret. they had been four days on their voyage, making little progress with the light and baffling winds, when they were shrouded in one of those thick fogs which prevail in the latitude of the cape de verds, and which was rendered more disagreeable by a mizzling rain. on the sixth day, about twelve o'clock, the horizon cleared to the northward, and the fog in that quarter was rolled away by a strong breeze which rippled along the water. newton, who was on deck, observed the direction of the wind to be precisely the reverse of the little breeze to which their sails had been trimmed; and the yards of the windsor castle were braced round to meet it. the gust was strong, and the ship, laden as she was, careened over to the sudden force of it, as the top-gallant sheets and halyards were let fly by the directions of the officer of the watch. the fog, which had still continued thick to leeward, now began to clear away; and, as the bank dispersed, the marquis de fontanges, who was standing on the poop by the side of newton, cried out "_voila un batiment_!" newton looked in the direction pointed out, and discovered the hull of a vessel looming through the fog, about a quarter of a mile to leeward of the windsor castle. one minute's scrutiny convinced him that it was the pirate, who, not having been expeditious in trimming his sails, _laid in irons_, as seamen term it, heeling over to the blast. the windsor castle was then running free, at the rate of four miles an hour. "starboard the helm--all hands to board--steady so. be smart, my lads-- it's the pirate--port a little. hurrah! my lads--be quick, and she's all our own. quartermaster, my sword--quick!" the crew, who were all on deck, snatched their cutlasses from the capstern-head, in which they were inserted, and before three minutes elapsed, during which the pirate had not time to extricate himself from his difficulty, were all ready for the service. they were joined by the flemish sailors belonging to the neutral vessel, who very deliberately put their hands in their breeches-pockets and pulled out their knives, about as long as a carpenter's two-foot rule, preferring this weapon to any thing else. monsieur de fontanges, bursting with impatience, stood with newton at the head of the men. when the collision of the two vessels took place, the windsor castle, conned so as not to run down the pirate, but to sheer alongside, stove in the bulwarks of the other, and carried away her top masts, which, drawn to windward by the pressure on the back-stays, fell over towards the windsor castle, and, entangling with her rigging, prevented the separation of the two vessels. "no quarter, my friends!" cried monsieur de fontanges, who darted on board of the pirate vessel at the head of some men near the main-rigging, while newton and the remainder, equally active, poured down upon his quarter. such had been the rapidity of the junction, and such the impetuosity of the attack, that most of the pirates had not had time to arm themselves, which, considering the superiority of their numbers, rendered the conquest more equal. a desperate struggle was the result; the attacked party neither expecting, demanding, nor receiving quarter. it was blow for blow, wound for wound, death to one or both. every inch of the deck was disputed, and not an inch obtained until it reeked with blood. the voices of newton and monsieur de fontanges, encouraging their men, were answered by another voice--that of the captain of the pirates, which had its due effect upon the other party, which rallied at its sound. newton, even in the hurry and excitement of battle, could not help thinking to himself that he had heard that voice before. the english seamen gained but little ground, so obstinate was the resistance. the pirates fell; but, as they lay on the deck, they either raised their exhausted arms to strike one last blow of vengeance before their life's blood had been poured out, or seized upon their antagonists with their teeth in their expiring agonies. but a party, who, from the sedateness of their carriage, had hitherto been almost neutral, now forced their way into the conflict. these were the flemish seamen, with their long snick-a-snee knives, which they used with as much imperturbability as a butcher professionally employed. they had gained the main rigging of the vessel, and, ascending it, had passed over by the catharpins, and descended with all the deliberation of hears on the other side, by which tranquil manoeuvre the pirates were taken in the flank; and, huddled as they were together, the knives of the flemings proved much more effective than the weapons opposed to them. the assistance of the flemings was hailed with a shout from the english seamen, who rallied, and increased their efforts. newton's sword had just been passed through the body of a tall powerful man, who had remained uninjured in the front of the opposing party since the commencement of the action, when his fall discovered to newton's view the captain of the vessel, whose voice had been so often heard, but who had hitherto been concealed from his sight by the athletic form which had just fallen by his hand. what was his astonishment and his indignation when he found himself confronted by one whom he had long imagined to have been summoned to answer for his crimes--his former inveterate enemy, jackson! jackson appeared to be no less astonished at the recognition of newton, whom he had supposed to have perished on the sand-bank. both mechanically called each other by name, and both sprung forward. the blow of newton's sword was warded off by the miscreant; but at the same moment that of monsieur de fontanges was passed through his body to the hilt. newton had just time to witness the fall of jackson, when a tomahawk descended on his head; his senses failed him, and he laid among the dead upon the deck. there was a shriek, a piercing shriek heard when newton fell. it passed the lips of one who had watched, with an anxiety too intense to be portrayed, the issue of the conflict;--it was from isabel, who had quitted the cabin at the crash occasioned by the collision of the two vessels, and had remained upon the poop "spectatress of the fight." where were no fire arms used; no time for preparation had been allowed. there had been no smoke to conceal--all had been fairly presented to her aching sight. yes! there she had remained, her eye fixed upon newton forster, as, at the head of his men, he slowly gained the deck of the contested vessel. not one word did she utter; but, with her lips wide apart from intensity of feeling, she watched his progress through the strife, her eye fixed--immoveably fixed upon the spot where his form was to be seen; hope buoyant, as she saw his arm raised and his victims fall--heart sinking, as the pirate sword aimed at a life so dear. there she stood like a statue--as white as beautiful--as motionless as if indeed she had been chiselled from the parian marble; and, had it not been from her bosom heaving with the agony of tumultuous feeling, you might have imagined that all was as cold within. newton fell--all her hopes were wrecked--she uttered one wild shriek, and felt no more. after the fall of jackson the pirates were disheartened, and their resistance became more feeble. monsieur de fontanges carved his way to the taffrail, and then turned round to kill again. in a few minutes the most feeble-hearted escaped below, leaving the few remaining brave to be hacked to pieces, and the deck of the pirate vessel was in possession of the british crew. not waiting to recover his breath, monsieur de fontanges rushed below to secure his wife. the cabin-door was locked, but yielded to his efforts, and he found her in the arms of her attendants in a state of insensibility. a scream of horror at the sight of his bloody sword, and another of joy at the recognition of their master, was followed up with the assurance that madame had only fainted, monsieur de fontanges took his wife in his arms, and carried her on deck, where, with the assistance of the seamen, he removed her on board of the windsor castle, and in a short time had the pleasure to witness her recovery. their first endearments over, there was an awkward question to put to a wife. after responding to her caresses, monsieur de fontanges inquired, with an air of anxiety very remarkable in a frenchman, how she had been treated. "il n'y a pas de mal, mon ami," replied madame de fontanges. this was a jesuitical sort of answer, and monsieur de fontanges required further particulars. "elle avoit temporisee" with the ruffian, with the faint hope of that assistance which had so opportunely and unexpectedly arrived. monsieur de fontanges was satisfied with his wife's explanation; and such being the case, what passed between jackson and madame de fontanges can be no concern of the reader's. as for mimi and charlotte, they made no such assertion; but, when questioned, the poor girls burst into tears, and, calling the captain and first-lieutenant of the pirate barbarians, and every epithet they could think of, complained bitterly of the usage which they had received. we left newton floored (as captain oughton would have said) on the deck of the pirate vessel, and isabel in a swoon on the poop of the windsor castle. they were both taken up, and then taken down, and recovered according to the usual custom in romances and real life. isabel was the first to _come to_, because, i presume, a blow on the heart is not quite so serious as a blow on the head. fortunately for newton, the tomahawk had only glanced along the temple, not injuring the skull, although it stunned him, and detached a very decent portion of his scalp, which had to be replaced. a lancet brought him to his senses, and the surgeon pronounced his wound not to be dangerous, provided that he remained quiet. at first newton acquiesced with the medical adviser, but an hour or two afterwards a circumstance occurred, which had such a resuscitating effect, that, weak as he was with the loss of blood, he would not resign the command of the ship, but gave his orders relative to the captured vessel, and the securing of the prisoners, as if nothing had occurred. what had contributed so much to the recovery of newton, was simply this, that _somehow or another_ mrs enderby left him for a few minutes _tete a tete_ with isabel revel; and, during those few minutes, _somehow or another_, a very interesting scene occurred, which i have no time just now to describe. it ended, however, _somehow or another_, in the parties plighting their troth. as i said before, love and murder are very good friends; and a chop from a tomahawk was but a prelude for the descent of love, with "healing on his wings." the windsor castle lost five men killed and eleven wounded in this hard contest. three of the flemings were also wounded. the pirate had suffered more severely. out of a crew of seventy-five men, as no quarter had been given, there remained but twenty-six, who had escaped and secreted themselves below, in the hold of the vessel. these were put in irons under the half-deck of the windsor castle, to be tried upon their arrival in england. as i may as well dispose of them at once, they were all sentenced to death by sir william scott, who made a very impressive speech upon the occasion; and most of them were hanged on the bank of the thames. the polite valet of the marquis de fontanges hired a wherry, and escorted mademoiselles mimi and charlotte to witness the "_barbares_" dangling in their chains; and the sooty young ladies returned, much gratified with their interesting excursion. it will be necessary to account for the re-appearance of jackson. the reader may recollect that he made sail in the boat, leaving newton on the island which they had gained after the brig had been run on shore and wrecked. when the boat came floating down with the tide, bottom up, newton made sure that jackson had been upset and drowned; instead of which, he had been picked up by a providence schooner; and the boat having been allowed to go adrift with the main-sheet belayed to the pin, had been upset by a squall, and had floated down with the current to the sand-bank where newton was standing in the water. jackson did not return to england, but had entered on board of a portuguese slave-vessel, and had continued some time employed in this notorious traffic, which tends so much to demoralise and harden the heart. after several voyages, he headed a mutiny, murdered the captain and those who were not a party to the scheme, and commenced a career of piracy, which had been very successful, from the superior sailing of the vessel, and the courage of the hardened villains he had collected under his command. volume three, chapter thirteen. hopes of all passions, most befriend us here; joy has her tears and transport has her death: hope, like a cordial, innocent, tho' strong. man's heart at once inspirits and serenes; nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys. 'tis all our present state can safely bear: health to the frame and vigor to the mind, and to the modest eye, chastised delight, like the fair summer evening, mild and sweet, 'tis man's full cup--his paradise below. young. with what feelings of delight did newton forster walk the deck of the windsor castle, as she scudded before a fine breeze across the bay of biscay! his happiness in anticipation was so great, that at times he trembled lest the cup should be dashed from his lips; and at the same time that he thanked god for blessings received, he offered up his prayer that his prospects might not be blighted by disappointment. how happy did he feel when he escorted isabel on deck, and walked with her during the fine summer evenings, communicating those hopes and fears, recurring to the past, or anticipating the future, till midnight warned them of the rapidity with which time had flown away! the pirate vessel, which had been manned by the crew of the neutral and part of the ship's company of the windsor castle, under charge of the fourth-mate, sailed round and round them, until at last the channel was entered, and, favoured with a westerly breeze, the windsor castle and her prize anchored in the downs. here mrs enderby and isabel quitted the ship, and newton received orders to proceed round to the river. before the windsor castle had anchored, the newspapers were put into his hands containing a report of the two actions, and he had the gratification of acknowledging that his countrymen were not niggardly in the encomiums upon his meritorious conduct. newton presented himself to the court of directors, who confirmed his rank, and promised him the command of the first ship which was brought forward, with flattering commendations for his gallantry in protecting property of so much value. newton took his heave of the august _leaden-hall_ board, and hastened to his uncle's house. the door was opened by a servant who did not know him: newton passed him, and ran up to the drawing-room, where he found amber in company with william aveleyn, who was reading to her the despatch containing the account of the action with surcoeuf. amber _sprung_ into his arms. she had grown into a tall girl of nearly fifteen, budding into womanhood and beauty; promising perfection, although not yet attained to it. william aveleyn was also nearly half a foot taller; and a blush which suffused his handsome face at being surprised alone with amber, intimated that the feelings of a man were superseding those of boyhood. "where is my mother?" inquired newton. "she is not at home, dear newton," replied amber; "she walked out with your father. they are both well." "and my uncle?" "quite well, and most anxious to see you. he talks of nobody but you, and of nothing but your actions, which we were just reading about when you came in. pray _captain_ newton, may i inquire after your french friends? what has become of them?" "they are at sablonniere's hotel. miss amber; they have obtained their parole at the alien-office." the conversation was interrupted by the return of newton's father and mother, and shortly afterward mr john forster made his appearance. after the first greeting and congratulations were over-- "well, newton," observed nicholas, "so you beat off a pirate, i hear." "no, my dear father, we boarded one." "ah! very true; i recollect--and you killed surcoeuf." "no, father, only beat him off." "so it was; i recollect now.--brother john, isn't it almost dinner-time?" "yes, brother nicholas, it is; and i'm not sorry for it. mr william aveleyn, perhaps you'd like to wash your hands? a lad's paws are never the worse for a little clean water." william aveleyn blushed: his dignity was hurt: but he had lately been very intimate at mr forster's, and he therefore walked out to comply with the recommendation. "well, brother nicholas, what have you been doing all day?" "doing all day, brother? really, i don't exactly know. my dear," said nicholas, turning to his wife, "what have i been doing all day?" "to the best of my recollection," replied mrs forster, smiling, "you have been asking when dinner would be ready." "uncle nicholas," said amber, "you promised to buy me a skein of blue silk." "did i, my dear? well, so i did, i declare. i'm very sorry--dear me, i forgot, i did buy it. i passed by a shop where the windows were full of it, and it brought it to my mind, and i did buy it. it cost--what was it, it cost?" "oh! i know what it cost," replied amber. "i gave you three-pence to pay for it. where is it?" "if i recollect, it cost seven shillings and six-pence," replied nicholas, pulling out, not a skein of blue silk, but a yard of blue sarsenet. "now, papa, do look here! uncle nicholas, i never will give you a commission again. is it not provoking? i have seven shillings and six-pence to pay for a yard of blue sarsenet, which i do not want. uncle nicholas, you really are very stupid." "well, my dear, i suppose i am. i heard william aveleyn say the same, when i came into the room this morning, because--let me see--" "you heard him say nothing, uncle," interrupted amber, colouring. "yes, i recollect now--how stupid i was to come in when i was not wanted!" "humph!" said john forster; and dinner was announced. since the recognition of mrs forster by her husband, she had presided at her brother-in-law's table. the dinner provided was excellent, and was done ample justice to by all parties, especially nicholas, whose appetite appeared to increase from idleness. since newton had left england he had remained a pensioner upon his brother; and, by dint of constant exertion on the part of mrs forster, had been drilled out of his propensity of interfering with either the watch or the spectacles. this was all that was required by mr john forster; and nicholas walked up and down the house, like a tame cat, minding nobody, and nobody paying any attention to him. after dinner the ladies retired, and shortly afterwards william aveleyn quitted the room. newton thought this to be a good opportunity to acquaint his uncle with his attachment to miss revel, and the favourable result. mr john forster heard him without interruption. "very nice girl, i dare say, nephew, but you are too young to marry. you can't marry and go to sea. follow your profession, newton; speculate in opium--i'll find the means." "i trust, sir, that i never should speculate in marrying; but, had i acted on that plan, this would prove the best speculation of the two. miss revel has a very large fortune." "so much the worse: a man should never be indebted to his wife for his money--they never forget it. i'd rather you had fallen in love with a girl without a shilling." "well, sir, when i first fell in love she had not a six-pence." "humph!--well, nephew, that may be very true; but, as i said before, follow your profession." "marriage will not prevent my so doing, uncle. most captains of indiamen are married, men." "more fools they! leaving their wives at home, to be flattered and fooled by the lord knows who. a wife, nephew--is a woman." "i hope that mine will be one, sir," replied newton,--laughing. "nephew, once for all, i don't approve of your marrying now--that's understood. it's my wish that you follow your profession. i'll be candid with you; i have left you the heir to most of my fortune; but--i can alter my will. if you marry this girl i shall do so." "alter your will, brother?" said nicholas, who had been attentive to the conversation.--"why, who have you to leave your money to, except to newton?" "to hospitals--to pay off the national debt--to any thing. perhaps i may leave it all to that little girl, who already has come in for a slice." "but, brother," replied nicholas, "will that be just, to leave all your money away from the family?" "just, yes, brother nicholas, quite just. a man's will is his _will_. if he makes it so as to satisfy the wishes or expectations of others, it is no longer _his will_, but theirs. nephew, as i said before, if you marry against my consent, i shall alter my will." "i am sorry, sir, very sorry, that you should be displeased with me; but i am affianced to this lady, and no worldly consideration will induce me not to fulfil an engagement upon which, indeed, my future happiness depends. i have no claim upon you, sir; on the contrary, i have incurred a large debt of gratitude, from your kind protection. any thing else you would require of me--" "humph! that's always the case; any thing else except what is requested. brother nicholas, do me the favour to go up stairs; i wish to speak with my nephew alone." "well, brother john, certainly, if you wish it--if you and newton have secrets;" and nicholas rose from his chair. "surely, sir," observed newton, not pleased at the abrupt dismissal of his father, "we can have no secrets to which my father may not be a party." "yes, but i have, nephew. your father is my brother, and i take the liberty with my brother, if you like that better--not with your father." in the mean time nicholas had stalked out of the room. "nephew," continued mr john forster, as the door closed, "i have stated to you my wish that you should not marry this young woman; and i will now explain my reasons. the girl left in my charge by my brother edward has become the same to me as a daughter. i intend that you shall make three or four voyages as captain of an india-man; then you shall marry her, and become the heir to my whole fortune. now you understand me. may i ask, what are your objections?" "none, sir, but what i have already stated--my attachment and engagement to another person." "is that all?" "is it not enough?" "it appears that this young woman has entered into an engagement on board ship, without consulting her friends." "she has no father, sir. she is of age, and independent." "you have done the same." "i grant it, sir; but even were i inclined, could i, in honour or honesty, retract?" "humph!" "perhaps, sir, if you were acquainted with the young lady you might not be so averse to the match." "perhaps, if i saw with your eyes, i might not; but that is not likely to be the case. old men are a little blind and a little obstinate. after toiling through life to amass a fortune, they wish to have their own way of disposing of it. it is the only return they can receive for their labour. however, nephew, you will act as you please. as i said before, if you marry against my consent, i shall alter my will. now, empty the bottle, and we'll go up stairs." volume three, chapter fourteen. and, betty, give this cheek a little red. pope. the departure of isabel in the windsor castle, so immediately after the death of colonel revel, prevented her communicating to her mother the alteration which had taken place in her circumstances, and her intended return to england. the first intimation received by mrs revel was from a hurried note sent on shore by a pilot-boat off falmouth, stating isabel's arrival in the channel, and her anticipation of soon embracing her mother, isabel did not enter into any particulars, as she neither had time, nor did she feel assured that the letter would ever reach its destination. the letter did however come to hand two days before isabel and mrs enderby arrived at the metropolis, much to the chagrin of mrs revel, who imagined that her daughter had returned pennyless, to be a sharer of her limited income. she complained to mr heaviside, who as usual stepped in, not so much from any regard for mrs revel, but to while away the time of a _far niente_ old bachelor. "only think, mr heaviside," said the lady, who was stretched on a sofa, supported on pillows, "isabel has returned from india. here is a letter i have just received, signed by her maiden name! her sisters so well married too! surely she might have stayed out with one of them! i wonder how she got the money to pay her passage home! dear me! what shall i do with her?" "if i may be allowed to see the letter, mrs revel," said the old gentleman-- "oh, certainly, it's nothing but a note." mr heaviside read the contents. "there is very little in it indeed, mrs revel; not a word about the colonel, or why she left india. perhaps the colonel may be dead." "then she might have gone to live with one of her sisters, mr heaviside!" "but perhaps he may have left her some property." "and do you, a sensible man, think that if such was the case, my daughter would not have mentioned it in her note? impossible, mr heaviside!" "she may intend to surprise you, mrs revel." "she has surprised me," replied the lady, falling back upon the pillows. "well, mrs revel, you will soon ascertain the facts. i wish you a good morning, and will pay my devoirs in a day or two to inquire after your health, and hear what has taken place." to defray the expenses attending the "consignment" of the three miss revel's to india, mrs revel had consented to borrow money, insuring her life as a security to the parties who provided it. her unprincipled husband took this opportunity of obtaining a sum which amounted to more than half her marriage settlement, as mrs revel signed the papers laid before her without examining their purport. when her dividends were become due this treachery was discovered, and mrs revel found herself reduced to a very narrow income, and wholly deserted by her husband, who knew that he had no chance of obtaining further means of carrying on his profligate career. his death in a duel, which we have before mentioned, took place a few months after the transaction, and mrs revel was attacked with that painful disease, a cancer, so deeply seated as to be incurable. still she was the same frivolous, heartless being; still she sighed for pleasure, and to move in those circles in which she had been received at the time of her marriage. but, as her income diminished, so did her acquaintances fall off, and at the period of isabel's return, with the exception of mr heaviside, and one or two others, she was suffered to pine away in seclusion. isabel was greeted with querulous indifference until the explanation of the first ten minutes; then, as an heiress, with the means as well as the desire of contributing to her mother's comforts, all was joy and congratulation. her incurable disease was for the time forgotten, and although pain would occasionally draw down the muscles of her face, as soon as the pang was over, so was the remembrance of her precarious situation. wan and wasted as a spectre, she indulged in anticipation of again mixing with the fashionable world, and talked of _chaperoning_ isabel to private parties and public amusements, when she was standing at the brink of eternity. isabel sighed as she listened to her mother, and observed her attenuated frame; occasionally she would refer to her mother's state of health, and attempt to bring her to that serious state of mind which her awful situation demanded; but in vain: mrs revel would evade the subject. before a week had passed she had set up an equipage, and called upon many of her quondam friends to announce the important intelligence of her daughter's wealth. most of them had long before given orders not to be "at home to mrs revel." the few to whom, from the remissness of their porters, she obtained admittance, were satisfied at their servants' negligence when they heard the intelligence which mrs revel had to communicate. they were so delighted; isabel was always such a sweet girl; hoped that mrs revel would not be such a recluse as she had been, and that they should prevail upon her to come to their parties! an heiress is of no little consequence when there are so many younger brothers to provide for; and, before a short month had flown away, mrs revel, to her delight, found that the cards and invitations of no inconsiderable portion of the _beau monde_ covered the table of her confined drawing-room. to isabel, who perceived that her mother was sinking every day under the exertion she went through, all this was a source of deep regret. it occurred to her that to state her engagements with newton forster would have some effect in preventing this indirect suicide. she took an opportunity of confiding it to her mother, who listened to her with astonishment. "isabel! what do i hear? what! that young man who calls here so often? you, that can command a title, rank, and fashion, engage yourself to a captain of an indiaman! recollect, isabel, that now your poor father is dead, i am your legal protector; and without my permission i trust you have too much sense of filial duty to think of marrying. how you could venture to form an engagement without consulting me is quite astonishing! depend upon it, i shall not give my consent; therefore, think no more about it." how often do we thus see people, who make no scruples of neglecting their duties, as eagerly assert their responsibility, when it suits their convenience. isabel might have retorted, but she did not. in few words, she gave her mother to understand that she was decided, and then retired to dress for a splendid ball, at which, more to please her mother than herself, she had consented to be present. it was the first party of any consequence to which mrs revel had been invited. she considered it as her _re-entree_ into the fashionable world, and the presentation of her daughter; she would not have missed it for any consideration. that morning she had felt more pain than usual, and had been obliged to have recourse to restoratives; but once more to join the gay and fashionable throng--the very idea braced her nerves, rendered her callous to suffering, and indifferent to disease. "i think," said mrs revel to her maid--"i think," said she, panting, "you may lace me a little closer, martyn." "indeed, madam, the holes nearly meet; it will hurt your side." "no, no, i feel no pain this evening--there, that will do." the lady's maid finished her task, and left the room. mrs revel rouged her wan cheeks, and, exhausted with fatigue and pain, tottered to an easy chair, that she might recover herself a little before she went down stairs. in a quarter of an hour isabel, who had waited for the services of martyn, entered her mother's room, to announce that she was ready. her mother, who was sitting in the chair, leaning backwards, answered her not. isabel went up to her, and looked her in the face--she was _dead_! volume three, chapter fifteen. my dearest wife was like this maid, and such my daughter might have been. shakespeare. the reader may be surprised at the positive and dictatorial language of mr john forster, relative to newton's marriage, as detailed in a former chapter; but, as mr john forster truly observed, all the recompense which he had to expect for a life of exertion was to dispose of the fruits of his labour according to his own will. this he felt, and he considered it unreasonable that what he supposed a boyish attachment on the part of newton was to overthrow all his preconcerted arrangements. had mr forster been able to duly appreciate the feelings of his nephew, he probably would not have been so decided; but love had never been able to establish himself as an inmate of his breast. his life had been a life of toil. love associates with idleness and ease. mr forster was kind and cordial to his nephew as before, and the subject was not again renewed; nevertheless, he had made up his mind, and having stated that he would alter his will, such was his intention, provided that his nephew did not upon mature reflection accede to his wishes. newton once more enjoyed the society of isabel, to whom he imparted all that had occurred. "i do not wish to play the prude," answered isabel, "by denying that i am distressed at your uncle's decision; to say that i will never enter into his family without having received his consent, is saying more than my feelings will bear out; but i must and will say, that i shall be most unwilling so to do. we must, therefore, as madame de fontanges did with the pirate captain, temporise, and i trust we shall be as successful." newton, more rational than most young men in love, agreed with isabel on the propriety of the measure, and, satisfied with each other's attachment, they were by no means in a hurry to precipitate their marriage. it may be recollected that newton forster felt convinced that the contents of the trunk which he picked up at sea, when mate of the coasting vessel, was the property of the marquis de fontanges, during their passage home in the windsor castle, he had renewed the subject to monsieur de fontanges, and from the description which he gave from memory, the latter appeared to be of the same opinion. the conversation had not been revived until some time after their arrival in england, when newton, anxious to restore the articles, desired monsieur de fontanges to communicate with the marquis, and request that he would appoint a day upon which he would call at his uncle's and identify the property. the marquis, who had never been informed by monsieur de fontanges, that any supposed relics of his lost wife remained, sighed at the memory of his buried happiness--buried in that vast grave, which defrauds the earth of its inherent rights--and consented to call upon the ensuing day. when the marquis arrived, accompanied by monsieur and madame de fontanges, he was received in the drawing-room by mr john forster, who had brought from his chamber the packet in question, which had remained locked up in the iron safe ever since newton had first committed it to his charge. after their introduction to each other, the marquis observed, in english-- "i am giving you a great deal of trouble; unavailing indeed; for, allowing that the articles should prove to be mine, the sight of them must be a source of renewed misery." "sir," replied mr john forster, "the property does not belong to my nephew, and he has very properly reserved it until he could find out the legal owner. if the property is yours, we are bound to deliver it into your hands. there is an inventory attached to it," continued the old lawyer, putting on his spectacles, and reading, "one diamond ring--but perhaps it would be better that i should open the packet." "will you permit me to look at the diamond ring, sir?" observed monsieur de fontanges. "the sight of that will identify the whole." "there it is, sir," replied mr john forster. "it is, indeed, that of my poor sister-in-law!" said monsieur de fontanges, taking it up to the marquis. "my brother, it is louise's ring!" "it is," cried the marquis, passionately, "the ring that i placed in the centre of her _corbeille de mariage_. alas! where is the hand which graced it?" and the marquis retreated to the sofa, and covered his face. "we have no occasion then to proceed further," observed mr john forster, with emotion. "the other articles you of course recognise?" "i do," replied monsieur de fontanges. "my brother had taken his passage in the same vessel, but was countermanded. before he had time to select all his own baggage, which was mixed with that of his wife, the ship was blown out to sea, and proceeded on her voyage. these orders of merit were left with her jewels." "i observe," said the old lawyer, "which i did not when newton entrusted the packet to my charge, that the linen has not all the same marks; that of the adult is marked l de m, while that which belonged to the child is marked j de f. was it the marquis's child?" "it was; the linen of the in other was some belonging to her previous to her marriage. the maiden name was louise de montmorenci; that of the child has the initials of its name, julie de fontanges." "humph! i have my reasons for asking that question," replied the old lawyer. "newton, do me the favour to step to my chambers and open the safe. you will find in it, on the right hand side, another small bundle of linen: bring it here. stop, newton, blow the dust out of the pipe of the key before you put it in, and be careful that it is well inserted before you turn it, or you may strain the wards. in all other points, you may be as quick as you please. my lord marquis, will you allow me to offer you some refreshment?--a glass of wine will be of service. brother nicholas, do me the favour to call amber." newton and nicholas both departed on their respective missions. amber made her appearance. "papa," said amber, "do you want me?" "yes, my dear," said mr forster, handing her the keys, "go down to the cellaret and bring up some wine. i do not wish the servants to come in just now." amber reappeared with a small tray. she first handed it to the marquis, who roused at her voice. "papa requests that you will take some wine, sir. it will be of service to you." the marquis, who had looked earnestly in her face when she had spoken, took the wine, and drinking it off, bowed as he replaced the glass. he then sunk back on the sofa. when the rap at the door announced the return of newton, mr john forster requested monsieur de fontanges, in a low voice, to follow him, and directing newton, whom they met on the stairs, to return, they proceeded to the dining-parlour. "i have requested you to come down, sir," said mr john forster, "that i might not, without being certain, raise hopes in your brother the marquis, which, if not realised, would create bitter feelings of disappointment; but i remarked the initials on the linen of the child; and if my memory, which is not very bad, fails me not, we shall find corresponding ones in the packet now before us;" and the old lawyer opened the bundle and displayed the contents, which proved to be marked as he had surmised. "most true," replied monsieur de fontanges. "they are the same, and of course part of the property which was picked up." "yes; but not picked up at the same time, or at the same spot, or by the same person. those above stairs were, as you know, picked up by my nephew; these by a brother, who is since dead; and in these clothes an infant was also washed upon the beach." "his child!" exclaimed monsieur de fontanges. "where was it buried?" "the child was restored to life, and is still living." "if it is," replied monsieur de fontanges, "it can be no other than the young lady who just now called you father. the likeness to madame la marquise is most astonishing." "it is as you suppose, sir," replied mr john forster. "at my brother's death, he bequeathed the little girl to my protection; and i trust i have done justice to the deposit. indeed, although an alien by blood, she is as dear to me as if she were my own daughter; and," continued the old lawyer, hesitating a little, "although i have the satisfaction of restoring her to her father's arms, it will be a heavy blow to part with her! when my brother spoke to me on the subject, i told him it was trouble and expense enough to bring up a child of one's own begetting. i little thought at the time how much more i should be vexed at parting with one of another's. however, with the bundle she must be returned to the lawful owner. i have one more remark to make, sir. do me the favour to look at that drawing of my poor brother's, which hangs over the sideboard. do you recognise the portrait?" "triton!" cried monsieur de fontanges; "the dog which i gave my poor sister-in-law!" "you are indebted to that dog for the life of your niece. he brought her on shore, and laid her at my brother's feet; but i have all the documents, which i will send for your perusal. the facts i consider so well established as to warrant a verdict in any court of justice; and now, sir, i must leave you to make the communication as soon, and, at the same time, as cautiously as you please. newton, send amber down to me." we will pass over the scenes which followed in the dining-parlour and drawing-room. the marquis de fontanges discovered that he was blessed with a daughter, at the same time that amber learnt her own history. in a few minutes amber was led up stairs to the arms of her father, whose tears of sorrow at the loss of his wife were now mingled with those of delight, as he clasped his daughter to his heart. "what obligations do i owe to your whole family, my dear friend!" said the marquis to newton. "i will not deny it, sir," replied newton; "but allow me to observe, that for the recovery of your daughter you are equally indebted to the generosity of your own relatives and your own feeling disposition. had not monsieur and madame de fontanges protected and assisted me in my distress; had not you, instead of throwing me into prison, set me at liberty, you never would have known where your daughter was to be found. had not one of my uncles hastened to the relief of the vessel in distress, and the other protected your little girl after his death, she would not have been now in existence. my gratitude for your kindness induced me to remain by your ship, and subsequently to rescue you from the pirate, or you would not have now been a prisoner in this country-- an evil which, under divine providence, has been changed to a blessing, by restoring to you your daughter. we have all, i trust, done our duty, and this happy issue is our full reward." "humph!" observed the old lawyer. volume three, chapter sixteen. thus far our chronicle--and now we pause, though not for want of matter, but 'tis time. byron. amber, or julie de fontanges, as we must now call her, quitted the abode of her kind protector, in such distress, that it was evident she regretted the discovery which had been made. she was too young to be aware of the advantages of high birth, and her removal was for some time a source of unfeigned regret. it appeared to her that nothing could compensate for the separation from her supposed father, who doated on her, from mrs forster, who had watched over her, from nicholas, who amused her, and from newton, whom she loved as a brother. but the idea of going to a foreign country, and never seeing them or william aveleyn again, and, though last, not least, to find that she was not an englishwoman, and in future must not rejoice at their victories over her own nation, occasioned many a burst of tears when left alone to her own meditations. it was long before the devotion of her father, and the fascinating attentions of monsieur and madame de fontanges, could induce her to be resigned to her new condition. mr john forster felt his bereavement more deeply than could have been supposed. for many days after the departure of julie, he seldom spoke, never made his appearance, except at dinner-time, and as soon as the meal was finished hastened to his chambers, where he remained very late. intense application was the remedy which he had selected to dispel his care, and fill up the vacuum created by the absence of his darling child. "newton," said he, one evening, as they discussed a bottle of port, "have you considered what i proposed? i confess to you that i am more than ever anxious for the match; i cannot part with that dear child, and you can bring her back to me." "i have reflected, sir; but the case must be viewed in a very different light. you might affiance your adopted daughter at her early age, but the marquis de fontanges may not be so inclined; nay, further, sir, it is not impossible that he may dislike the proposed match. he is of a very noble family." "i have thought on that subject," replied mr john forster; "but our family is as well descended, and quite well enough for any frenchman, let him be a marquis, or even a duke. is that the only obstacle you intend to raise--or, if this is removed, will you again plead your attachment to another?" "it is the only one which i mean to raise at present, sir. i acknowledge julie de fontanges to be a sweet girl, and, as a relation, i have long been much attached to her." "humph!" replied the old lawyer, "i always thought you a sensible lad-- we shall see." now, be it observed, that there was a certain degree of the jesuitical on the part of our friend newton on this occasion, excusable only from his wish that the mortification of his uncle at the disappointment of his hopes should not be occasioned by any further resistance on his part. to monsieur de fontanges, who was aware of newton's attachment to isabel, he had, previous to the discovery which had taken place, communicated the obstacle to his union, raised by the pertinacity of his uncle. after the removal of julie, monsieur de fontanges acquainted his brother with the wishes of mr john forster, and explained to him how much they were at variance with those of newton. the first time that newton called upon the marquis, the latter shaking him warmly by the hand, said,--"i have been informed, my dear newton, by my brother, of the awkward predicament in which you are placed by the wish of your uncle that you should marry my julie when she grows up. believe me, when i say it, there is no man to whom i would sooner confide the happiness of my daughter, and that no consideration would induce me to refuse you, if you really sought her hand; but i know your wishes, and your attachment to miss revel, therefore be quite easy on the subject. your uncle made his proposition when julie had no father to be consulted; the case is now different, and, for your sake, i intend, for a time, to injure myself in the opinion of your good relation. i shall assume, i trust, what, if ever i had it, would be immediately sacrificed to gratitude--i mean high aristocratical pride; and should your uncle make the proposal, refuse it upon the grounds that you are not noble by _descent_. no one will deny your nobility on any other point. do you understand me, newton? and will my so doing be conformable to your wishes?" "it will, monsieur le marquis, and i thank you most sincerely." "then make no objection when he proposes the match a second time; leave all the obloquy on my shoulders," said the marquis, smiling. this arrangement having been made, it was not surprising that newton heard his uncle's renewal of the proposition with such calmness and apparent acquiescence. "we dine with the marquis to-morrow, newton," observed mr john forster; "i shall take an opportunity after dinner of requesting a few minutes' interview, when i shall put the question to him." "certainly, sir, if you think right," replied newton. "well, i'm glad the dear girl has changed that foolish name of amber. what could possess my brother! julie is very fine, nevertheless; but then she was christened by french people." the next day the parties met at dinner. isabel revel had been asked; and, having heard from madame de fontanges of the plan agreed upon, and anxious to see the old lawyer, she had consented to join the party. the dinner passed off as most dinners do when the viands and wines are good, and every body is inclined to be happy. isabel was placed next to mr forster, who, without knowing who she was, felt much pleased with the deference and attention of so beautiful a young woman. "newton," said his uncle, when the ladies retired, and the gentlemen packed up their chairs, "who was that young lady who sat next to me?" "the young lady, my dear uncle, whom i did wish to introduce to you as my intended wife--miss isabel revel." "humph!--why, you never spoke to her before dinner, or paid her any common civility!" "you forget, sir, your injunctions, and--" "that's no reason, nephew, why you should forget common civility. i requested that you would not marry the young lady; but i never desired you to commit an act of rudeness. she is a very nice young person; and politeness is but a trifle, although marriage is a very serious thing." in pursuance of his plans, when the gentlemen rose, mr john forster requested a few minutes' conversation with the marquis, who, bowing politely, showed the way to a small study on the same floor. mr forster immediately stated his wish that an engagement should be formed between his nephew and julie de fontanges. "mr forster," replied the marquis, drawing up proudly, the obligations i am under to your family are so great, that there are but few points in which i could refuse you; and i therefore am quite distressed that, of this proposal, i am obliged to decline the honour. you may be ignorant, mr forster, that the family of the de fontanges is one of the oldest in france; and, with every respect for you and your nephew, and all gratitude for your kindness, i cannot permit my daughter to form a _mesalliance_. "a _mesalliance_!--humph! i presume, sir, in plain english, it means marrying beneath her rank in life?" the marquis bowed. "i beg to observe, sir," said mr john forster, "that our family is a very old one. i can show you our pedigree. it has lain for some years by the side of your daughter's bundle in the iron safe." "i have no doubt of the excellence of your family, mr forster. i can only express my deep regret that it is not _noble_. excuse me, mr forster; except you can prove that--" "why, i could prove it by purchasing a dozen marquisates, if i thought proper!" "granted, mr forster. in our country they are to be purchased; but we make a great difference between the _parvenus_ of the present day and the _ancienne noblesse_." "well, mr marquis, just as you please; but i consider myself quite as good as a french marquis," replied mr forster, in a tone of irritation. "better than many, i have no doubt; but still, we draw the line. noble blood, mr forster." "noble fiddlestick! monsieur le marquis, in this country, and the inhabitants are not fools, we allow money to weigh against rank. it purchases that as it does everything else, except heaven. now, monsieur le marquis--" "excuse me, sir; no money will purchase the hand of julie de fontanges," replied the marquis. "well, then, monsieur le marquis, i should think that the obligations you are under in restoring your daughter to your arms--" "warrants your asking for her back again, mr forster?" replied the marquis, haughtily; "a labourer might find this diamond _solitaire_ that's now upon my finger. does it therefore follow that i am to make him a present of it?" "humph!" ejaculated mr forster, much affronted with the comparison. "in short, my dear sir, any thing which you or your family can think of; which it is in our power to grant, will make us most happy; but to _sully_ the blood of the most ancient--" john forster would hear no more; he quitted the room and walked up stairs before the marquis had completed his speech. when he entered the drawing-room, his countenance plainly expressed his disappointment. like all men who have toiled for riches, he had formed plans in which he considered his wealth was to command success, and had overlooked every obstacle which might present itself against the completion of his wishes. "newton," said he, as they stood apart near the window, "you have been a good lad in not persisting to thwart my views, but that french marquis, with his folly and his `ancienne noblesse,' has overthrown all my plans. now, i shall not interfere with yours. introduce me to miss what's her name; she is a very fine girl, and from what i saw of her during dinner, i like her very much." isabel exerted herself to please, and succeeded. satisfied with his nephew's choice, flattered by his previous apparent submission, and disgusted with the marquis, mr john forster thought no more of mademoiselle de fontanges. his consent was voluntary, and in a short time isabel revel changed her name. it was about five months after newton's marriage that he received a letter from the board, appointing him to the command of a ship. newton handed the letter over to mr forster. "i presume, sir, it is your wish that i should accept the offer?" "what offer?" said the old lawyer, who was reading through a case for counsel's opinions. "melville--for madras and china.--why, newton, i really do not see any occasion for your going afloat again. there is an old proverb--`the pitcher that goes often to the well is broken at last.' you're not tired of your wife already?" "i hope not, sir; but i thought it might be your wish." "it's my wish that you should stay at home. a poor man may go to sea, because he stands a chance to come home rich; but a man who has money in hand and in prospect, if he goes to sea, he is a fool. follow your profession as long as you require it, but no longer." "why then do you work so hard, my dear sir," said isabel, leaning over the old gentleman, and kissing him, in gratitude for his decision. "surely you can afford to relax a little now?" "why do i work so hard, isabel?" replied mr forster, looking up at her through his spectacles. "why you expect to have a family, do you not?" isabel blushed; the expectation was undeniable. "well, then, i presume the children will have no objection to find a few thousands more to be divided among them by-and-bye--will they, daughter?" the conversation was interrupted by the entry of a servant with a letter; mr forster broke the seal, and looked at the signature. "humph! from the proud old marquis. `very sorry, for a short period, to have fallen in your good opinion--should have rejoiced to have called newton my son-in-law!'--humph! `family pride all assumed--newton's happiness at stake--trust the deceit will be pardoned, and a renewal of former intimacy.' why, newton, is all this true?" "ask isabel, sir," replied, newton, smiling. "well, then, isabel, is all this true?" "ask newton, sir," replied isabel, kissing him. "the fact is, my dear sir, i could not afford to part with newton, even to please you, so we made up a little plot." "humph!--made up a little plot--well--i shan't alter my will, nevertheless;" and mr forster recommenced the reading of his brief. such is the history of newton forster, which, like most novels or plays, has been wound up with marriage. the last time that i appeared before my readers, they were dissatisfied with the termination of my story; they considered i had deprived them of a happy marriage, to which, as an undoubted right, they were entitled, after wading through three tedious volumes. as i am anxious to keep on good terms with the public, i hasten to repair the injury which it has sustained, by stating that about three years after the marriage of newton forster, the following paragraph appeared in the several papers of the metropolis. "yesterday, by special license, the right honourable william lord aveleyn to mademoiselle julie de fontanges, only daughter of the marquis de fontanges, late governor of the island of bourbon. the marriage was to have been solemnised in december last, but was postponed, in consequence of the death of the late lord aveleyn. after the ceremony, the happy couple," etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ and now, most arbitrary public, i consider that i have made the _amende honorable_, and that we are quits; for, if you were minus a happy marriage in the last work, you have a couple to indemnify you in the present. the end. the trumpet-major john loveday a soldier in the war with buonaparte and robert his brother first mate in the merchant service a tale by thomas hardy with a map of wessex macmillan and co., limited st. martin's street, london copyright _first edition_ ( _vols._) . _new edition_ ( _vol._) _and reprints_ - _new edition and reprints_ - _first published by macmillan and co._, _crown_ _vo_, . _reprinted_ , , _pocket edition_ . _reprinted_ , , , , , preface the present tale is founded more largely on testimony--oral and written--than any other in this series. the external incidents which direct its course are mostly an unexaggerated reproduction of the recollections of old persons well known to the author in childhood, but now long dead, who were eye-witnesses of those scenes. if wholly transcribed their recollections would have filled a volume thrice the length of 'the trumpet-major.' down to the middle of this century, and later, there were not wanting, in the neighbourhood of the places more or less clearly indicated herein, casual relics of the circumstances amid which the action moves--our preparations for defence against the threatened invasion of england by buonaparte. an outhouse door riddled with bullet-holes, which had been extemporized by a solitary man as a target for firelock practice when the landing was hourly expected, a heap of bricks and clods on a beacon-hill, which had formed the chimney and walls of the hut occupied by the beacon- keeper, worm-eaten shafts and iron heads of pikes for the use of those who had no better weapons, ridges on the down thrown up during the encampment, fragments of volunteer uniform, and other such lingering remains, brought to my imagination in early childhood the state of affairs at the date of the war more vividly than volumes of history could have done. those who have attempted to construct a coherent narrative of past times from the fragmentary information furnished by survivors, are aware of the difficulty of ascertaining the true sequence of events indiscriminately recalled. for this purpose the newspapers of the date were indispensable. of other documents consulted i may mention, for the satisfaction of those who love a true story, that the 'address to all ranks and descriptions of englishmen' was transcribed from an original copy in a local museum; that the hieroglyphic portrait of napoleon existed as a print down to the present day in an old woman's cottage near 'overcombe;' that the particulars of the king's doings at his favourite watering-place were augmented by details from records of the time. the drilling scene of the local militia received some additions from an account given in so grave a work as gifford's 'history of the wars of the french revolution' (london, ). but on reference to the history i find i was mistaken in supposing the account to be advanced as authentic, or to refer to rural england. however, it does in a large degree accord with the local traditions of such scenes that i have heard recounted, times without number, and the system of drill was tested by reference to the army regulations of , and other military handbooks. almost the whole narrative of the supposed landing of the french in the bay is from oral relation as aforesaid. other proofs of the veracity of this chronicle have escaped my recollection. t. h. _october_ . i. what was seen from the window overlooking the down in the days of high-waisted and muslin-gowned women, when the vast amount of soldiering going on in the country was a cause of much trembling to the sex, there lived in a village near the wessex coast two ladies of good report, though unfortunately of limited means. the elder was a mrs. martha garland, a landscape-painter's widow, and the other was her only daughter anne. anne was fair, very fair, in a poetical sense; but in complexion she was of that particular tint between blonde and brunette which is inconveniently left without a name. her eyes were honest and inquiring, her mouth cleanly cut and yet not classical, the middle point of her upper lip scarcely descending so far as it should have done by rights, so that at the merest pleasant thought, not to mention a smile, portions of two or three white teeth were uncovered whether she would or not. some people said that this was very attractive. she was graceful and slender, and, though but little above five feet in height, could draw herself up to look tall. in her manner, in her comings and goings, in her 'i'll do this,' or 'i'll do that,' she combined dignity with sweetness as no other girl could do; and any impressionable stranger youths who passed by were led to yearn for a windfall of speech from her, and to see at the same time that they would not get it. in short, beneath all that was charming and simple in this young woman there lurked a real firmness, unperceived at first, as the speck of colour lurks unperceived in the heart of the palest parsley flower. she wore a white handkerchief to cover her white neck, and a cap on her head with a pink ribbon round it, tied in a bow at the front. she had a great variety of these cap-ribbons, the young men being fond of sending them to her as presents until they fell definitely in love with a special sweetheart elsewhere, when they left off doing so. between the border of her cap and her forehead were ranged a row of round brown curls, like swallows' nests under eaves. she lived with her widowed mother in a portion of an ancient building formerly a manor-house, but now a mill, which, being too large for his own requirements, the miller had found it convenient to divide and appropriate in part to these highly respectable tenants. in this dwelling mrs. garland's and anne's ears were soothed morning, noon, and night by the music of the mill, the wheels and cogs of which, being of wood, produced notes that might have borne in their minds a remote resemblance to the wooden tones of the stopped diapason in an organ. occasionally, when the miller was bolting, there was added to these continuous sounds the cheerful clicking of the hopper, which did not deprive them of rest except when it was kept going all night; and over and above all this they had the pleasure of knowing that there crept in through every crevice, door, and window of their dwelling, however tightly closed, a subtle mist of superfine flour from the grinding room, quite invisible, but making its presence known in the course of time by giving a pallid and ghostly look to the best furniture. the miller frequently apologized to his tenants for the intrusion of this insidious dry fog; but the widow was of a friendly and thankful nature, and she said that she did not mind it at all, being as it was, not nasty dirt, but the blessed staff of life. by good-humour of this sort, and in other ways, mrs. garland acknowledged her friendship for her neighbour, with whom anne and herself associated to an extent which she never could have anticipated when, tempted by the lowness of the rent, they first removed thither after her husband's death from a larger house at the other end of the village. those who have lived in remote places where there is what is called no society will comprehend the gradual levelling of distinctions that went on in this case at some sacrifice of gentility on the part of one household. the widow was sometimes sorry to find with what readiness anne caught up some dialect-word or accent from the miller and his friends; but he was so good and true-hearted a man, and she so easy-minded, unambitious a woman, that she would not make life a solitude for fastidious reasons. more than all, she had good ground for thinking that the miller secretly admired her, and this added a piquancy to the situation. * * * * * on a fine summer morning, when the leaves were warm under the sun, and the more industrious bees abroad, diving into every blue and red cup that could possibly be considered a flower, anne was sitting at the back window of her mother's portion of the house, measuring out lengths of worsted for a fringed rug that she was making, which lay, about three- quarters finished, beside her. the work, though chromatically brilliant, was tedious: a hearth-rug was a thing which nobody worked at from morning to night; it was taken up and put down; it was in the chair, on the floor, across the hand-rail, under the bed, kicked here, kicked there, rolled away in the closet, brought out again, and so on more capriciously perhaps than any other home-made article. nobody was expected to finish a rug within a calculable period, and the wools of the beginning became faded and historical before the end was reached. a sense of this inherent nature of worsted-work rather than idleness led anne to look rather frequently from the open casement. immediately before her was the large, smooth millpond, over-full, and intruding into the hedge and into the road. the water, with its flowing leaves and spots of froth, was stealing away, like time, under the dark arch, to tumble over the great slimy wheel within. on the other side of the mill-pond was an open place called the cross, because it was three- quarters of one, two lanes and a cattle-drive meeting there. it was the general rendezvous and arena of the surrounding village. behind this a steep slope rose high into the sky, merging in a wide and open down, now littered with sheep newly shorn. the upland by its height completely sheltered the mill and village from north winds, making summers of springs, reducing winters to autumn temperatures, and permitting myrtle to flourish in the open air. the heaviness of noon pervaded the scene, and under its influence the sheep had ceased to feed. nobody was standing at the cross, the few inhabitants being indoors at their dinner. no human being was on the down, and no human eye or interest but anne's seemed to be concerned with it. the bees still worked on, and the butterflies did not rest from roving, their smallness seeming to shield them from the stagnating effect that this turning moment of day had on larger creatures. otherwise all was still. the girl glanced at the down and the sheep for no particular reason; the steep margin of turf and daisies rising above the roofs, chimneys, apple- trees, and church tower of the hamlet around her, bounded the view from her position, and it was necessary to look somewhere when she raised her head. while thus engaged in working and stopping her attention was attracted by the sudden rising and running away of the sheep squatted on the down; and there succeeded sounds of a heavy tramping over the hard sod which the sheep had quitted, the tramp being accompanied by a metallic jingle. turning her eyes further she beheld two cavalry soldiers on bulky grey chargers, armed and accoutred throughout, ascending the down at a point to the left where the incline was comparatively easy. the burnished chains, buckles, and plates of their trappings shone like little looking-glasses, and the blue, red, and white about them was unsubdued by weather or wear. the two troopers rode proudly on, as if nothing less than crowns and empires ever concerned their magnificent minds. they reached that part of the down which lay just in front of her, where they came to a halt. in another minute there appeared behind them a group containing some half- dozen more of the same sort. these came on, halted, and dismounted likewise. two of the soldiers then walked some distance onward together, when one stood still, the other advancing further, and stretching a white line of tape between them. two more of the men marched to another outlying point, where they made marks in the ground. thus they walked about and took distances, obviously according to some preconcerted scheme. at the end of this systematic proceeding one solitary horseman--a commissioned officer, if his uniform could be judged rightly at that distance--rode up the down, went over the ground, looked at what the others had done, and seemed to think that it was good. and then the girl heard yet louder tramps and clankings, and she beheld rising from where the others had risen a whole column of cavalry in marching order. at a distance behind these came a cloud of dust enveloping more and more troops, their arms and accoutrements reflecting the sun through the haze in faint flashes, stars, and streaks of light. the whole body approached slowly towards the plateau at the top of the down. anne threw down her work, and letting her eyes remain on the nearing masses of cavalry, the worsteds getting entangled as they would, said, 'mother, mother; come here! here's such a fine sight! what does it mean? what can they be going to do up there?' the mother thus invoked ran upstairs and came forward to the window. she was a woman of sanguine mouth and eye, unheroic manner, and pleasant general appearance; a little more tarnished as to surface, but not much worse in contour than the girl herself. widow garland's thoughts were those of the period. 'can it be the french,' she said, arranging herself for the extremest form of consternation. 'can that arch-enemy of mankind have landed at last?' it should be stated that at this time there were two arch-enemies of mankind--satan as usual, and buonaparte, who had sprung up and eclipsed his elder rival altogether. mrs. garland alluded, of course, to the junior gentleman. 'it cannot be he,' said anne. 'ah! there's simon burden, the man who watches at the beacon. he'll know!' she waved her hand to an aged form of the same colour as the road, who had just appeared beyond the mill-pond, and who, though active, was bowed to that degree which almost reproaches a feeling observer for standing upright. the arrival of the soldiery had drawn him out from his drop of drink at the 'duke of york' as it had attracted anne. at her call he crossed the mill-bridge, and came towards the window. anne inquired of him what it all meant; but simon burden, without answering, continued to move on with parted gums, staring at the cavalry on his own private account with a concern that people often show about temporal phenomena when such matters can affect them but a short time longer. 'you'll walk into the millpond!' said anne. 'what are they doing? you were a soldier many years ago, and ought to know.' 'don't ask me, mis'ess anne,' said the military relic, depositing his body against the wall one limb at a time. 'i were only in the foot, ye know, and never had a clear understanding of horses. ay, i be a old man, and of no judgment now.' some additional pressure, however, caused him to search further in his worm-eaten magazine of ideas, and he found that he did know in a dim irresponsible way. the soldiers must have come there to camp: those men they had seen first were the markers: they had come on before the rest to measure out the ground. he who had accompanied them was the quartermaster. 'and so you see they have got all the lines marked out by the time the regiment have come up,' he added. 'and then they will--well-a-deary! who'd ha' supposed that overcombe would see such a day as this!' 'and then they will--' 'then-- ah, it's gone from me again!' said simon. 'o, and then they will raise their tents, you know, and picket their horses. that was it; so it was.' by this time the column of horse had ascended into full view, and they formed a lively spectacle as they rode along the high ground in marching order, backed by the pale blue sky, and lit by the southerly sun. their uniform was bright and attractive; white buckskin pantaloons, three-quarter boots, scarlet shakos set off with lace, mustachios waxed to a needle point; and above all, those richly ornamented blue jackets mantled with the historic pelisse--that fascination to women, and encumbrance to the wearers themselves. ''tis the york hussars!' said simon burden, brightening like a dying ember fanned. 'foreigners to a man, and enrolled long since my time. but as good hearty comrades, they say, as you'll find in the king's service.' 'here are more and different ones,' said mrs. garland. other troops had, during the last few minutes, been ascending the down at a remoter point, and now drew near. these were of different weight and build from the others; lighter men, in helmet hats, with white plumes. 'i don't know which i like best,' said anne. 'these, i think, after all.' simon, who had been looking hard at the latter, now said that they were the --th dragoons. 'all englishmen they,' said the old man. 'they lay at budmouth barracks a few years ago.' 'they did. i remember it,' said mrs. garland. 'and lots of the chaps about here 'listed at the time,' said simon. 'i can call to mind that there was--ah, 'tis gone from me again! however, all that's of little account now.' the dragoons passed in front of the lookers-on as the others had done, and their gay plumes, which had hung lazily during the ascent, swung to northward as they reached the top, showing that on the summit a fresh breeze blew. 'but look across there,' said anne. there had entered upon the down from another direction several battalions of foot, in white kerseymere breeches and cloth gaiters. they seemed to be weary from a long march, the original black of their gaiters and boots being whity- brown with dust. presently came regimental waggons, and the private canteen carts which followed at the end of a convoy. the space in front of the mill-pond was now occupied by nearly all the inhabitants of the village, who had turned out in alarm, and remained for pleasure, their eyes lighted up with interest in what they saw; for trappings and regimentals, war horses and men, in towns an attraction, were here almost a sublimity. the troops filed to their lines, dismounted, and in quick time took off their accoutrements, rolled up their sheep-skins, picketed and unbitted their horses, and made ready to erect the tents as soon as they could be taken from the waggons and brought forward. when this was done, at a given signal the canvases flew up from the sod; and thenceforth every man had a place in which to lay his head. though nobody seemed to be looking on but the few at the window and in the village street, there were, as a matter of fact, many eyes converging upon that military arrival in its high and conspicuous position, not to mention the glances of birds and other wild creatures. men in distant gardens, women in orchards and at cottage-doors, shepherds on remote hills, turnip-hoers in blue-green enclosures miles away, captains with spy-glasses out at sea, were regarding the picture keenly. those three or four thousand men of one machine-like movement, some of them swashbucklers by nature; others, doubtless, of a quiet shop-keeping disposition who had inadvertently got into uniform--all of them had arrived from nobody knew where, and hence were matter of great curiosity. they seemed to the mere eye to belong to a different order of beings from those who inhabited the valleys below. apparently unconscious and careless of what all the world was doing elsewhere, they remained picturesquely engrossed in the business of making themselves a habitation on the isolated spot which they had chosen. mrs. garland was of a festive and sanguine turn of mind, a woman soon set up and soon set down, and the coming of the regiments quite excited her. she thought there was reason for putting on her best cap, thought that perhaps there was not; that she would hurry on the dinner and go out in the afternoon; then that she would, after all, do nothing unusual, nor show any silly excitements whatever, since they were unbecoming in a mother and a widow. thus circumscribing her intentions till she was toned down to an ordinary person of forty, mrs. garland accompanied her daughter downstairs to dine, saying, 'presently we will call on miller loveday, and hear what he thinks of it all.' ii. somebody knocks and comes in miller loveday was the representative of an ancient family of corn-grinders whose history is lost in the mists of antiquity. his ancestral line was contemporaneous with that of de ros, howard, and de la zouche; but, owing to some trifling deficiency in the possessions of the house of loveday, the individual names and intermarriages of its members were not recorded during the middle ages, and thus their private lives in any given century were uncertain. but it was known that the family had formed matrimonial alliances with farmers not so very small, and once with a gentleman-tanner, who had for many years purchased after their death the horses of the most aristocratic persons in the county--fiery steeds that earlier in their career had been valued at many hundred guineas. it was also ascertained that mr. loveday's great-grandparents had been eight in number, and his great-great-grandparents sixteen, every one of whom reached to years of discretion: at every stage backwards his sires and gammers thus doubled and doubled till they became a vast body of gothic ladies and gentlemen of the rank known as ceorls or villeins, full of importance to the country at large, and ramifying throughout the unwritten history of england. his immediate father had greatly improved the value of their residence by building a new chimney, and setting up an additional pair of millstones. overcombe mill presented at one end the appearance of a hard-worked house slipping into the river, and at the other of an idle, genteel place, half- cloaked with creepers at this time of the year, and having no visible connexion with flour. it had hips instead of gables, giving it a round- shouldered look, four chimneys with no smoke coming out of them, two zigzag cracks in the wall, several open windows, with a looking-glass here and there inside, showing its warped back to the passer-by; snowy dimity curtains waving in the draught; two mill doors, one above the other, the upper enabling a person to step out upon nothing at a height of ten feet from the ground; a gaping arch vomiting the river, and a lean, long-nosed fellow looking out from the mill doorway, who was the hired grinder, except when a bulging fifteen stone man occupied the same place, namely, the miller himself. behind the mill door, and invisible to the mere wayfarer who did not visit the family, were chalked addition and subtraction sums, many of them originally done wrong, and the figures half rubbed out and corrected, noughts being turned into nines, and ones into twos. these were the miller's private calculations. there were also chalked in the same place rows and rows of strokes like open palings, representing the calculations of the grinder, who in his youthful ciphering studies had not gone so far as arabic figures. in the court in front were two worn-out millstones, made useful again by being let in level with the ground. here people stood to smoke and consider things in muddy weather; and cats slept on the clean surfaces when it was hot. in the large stubbard-tree at the corner of the garden was erected a pole of larch fir, which the miller had bought with others at a sale of small timber in damer's wood one christmas week. it rose from the upper boughs of the tree to about the height of a fisherman's mast, and on the top was a vane in the form of a sailor with his arm stretched out. when the sun shone upon this figure it could be seen that the greater part of his countenance was gone, and the paint washed from his body so far as to reveal that he had been a soldier in red before he became a sailor in blue. the image had, in fact, been john, one of our coming characters, and was then turned into robert, another of them. this revolving piece of statuary could not, however, be relied on as a vane, owing to the neighbouring hill, which formed variable currents in the wind. the leafy and quieter wing of the mill-house was the part occupied by mrs. garland and her daughter, who made up in summer-time for the narrowness of their quarters by overflowing into the garden on stools and chairs. the parlour or dining-room had a stone floor--a fact which the widow sought to disguise by double carpeting, lest the standing of anne and herself should be lowered in the public eye. here now the mid-day meal went lightly and mincingly on, as it does where there is no greedy carnivorous man to keep the dishes about, and was hanging on the close when somebody entered the passage as far as the chink of the parlour door, and tapped. this proceeding was probably adopted to kindly avoid giving trouble to susan, the neighbour's pink daughter, who helped at mrs. garland's in the mornings, but was at that moment particularly occupied in standing on the water-butt and gazing at the soldiers, with an inhaling position of the mouth and circular eyes. there was a flutter in the little dining-room--the sensitiveness of habitual solitude makes hearts beat for preternaturally small reasons--and a guessing as to who the visitor might be. it was some military gentleman from the camp perhaps? no; that was impossible. it was the parson? no; he would not come at dinner-time. it was the well-informed man who travelled with drapery and the best birmingham earrings? not at all; his time was not till thursday at three. before they could think further the visitor moved forward another step, and the diners got a glimpse of him through the same friendly chink that had afforded him a view of the garland dinner-table. 'o! it is only loveday.' this approximation to nobody was the miller above mentioned, a hale man of fifty-five or sixty--hale all through, as many were in those days, and not merely veneered with purple by exhilarating victuals and drinks, though the latter were not at all despised by him. his face was indeed rather pale than otherwise, for he had just come from the mill. it was capable of immense changes of expression: mobility was its essence, a roll of flesh forming a buttress to his nose on each side, and a deep ravine lying between his lower lip and the tumulus represented by his chin. these fleshy lumps moved stealthily, as if of their own accord, whenever his fancy was tickled. his eyes having lighted on the table-cloth, plates, and viands, he found himself in a position which had a sensible awkwardness for a modest man who always liked to enter only at seasonable times the presence of a girl of such pleasantly soft ways as anne garland, she who could make apples seem like peaches, and throw over her shillings the glamour of guineas when she paid him for flour. 'dinner is over, neighbour loveday; please come in,' said the widow, seeing his case. the miller said something about coming in presently; but anne pressed him to stay, with a tender motion of her lip as it played on the verge of a solicitous smile without quite lapsing into one--her habitual manner when speaking. loveday took off his low-crowned hat and advanced. he had not come about pigs or fowls this time. 'you have been looking out, like the rest o' us, no doubt, mrs. garland, at the mampus of soldiers that have come upon the down? well, one of the horse regiments is the --th dragoons, my son john's regiment, you know.' the announcement, though it interested them, did not create such an effect as the father of john had seemed to anticipate; but anne, who liked to say pleasant things, replied, 'the dragoons looked nicer than the foot, or the german cavalry either.' 'they are a handsome body of men,' said the miller in a disinterested voice. 'faith! i didn't know they were coming, though it may be in the newspaper all the time. but old derriman keeps it so long that we never know things till they be in everybody's mouth.' this derriman was a squireen living near, who was chiefly distinguished in the present warlike time by having a nephew in the yeomanry. 'we were told that the yeomanry went along the turnpike road yesterday,' said anne; 'and they say that they were a pretty sight, and quite soldierly.' 'ah! well--they be not regulars,' said miller loveday, keeping back harsher criticism as uncalled for. but inflamed by the arrival of the dragoons, which had been the exciting cause of his call, his mind would not go to yeomanry. 'john has not been home these five years,' he said. 'and what rank does he hold now?' said the widow. 'he's trumpet-major, ma'am; and a good musician.' the miller, who was a good father, went on to explain that john had seen some service, too. he had enlisted when the regiment was lying in this neighbourhood, more than eleven years before, which put his father out of temper with him, as he had wished him to follow on at the mill. but as the lad had enlisted seriously, and as he had often said that he would be a soldier, the miller had thought that he would let jack take his chance in the profession of his choice. loveday had two sons, and the second was now brought into the conversation by a remark of anne's that neither of them seemed to care for the miller's business. 'no,' said loveday in a less buoyant tone. 'robert, you see, must needs go to sea.' 'he is much younger than his brother?' said mrs. garland. about four years, the miller told her. his soldier son was two-and-thirty, and bob was twenty-eight. when bob returned from his present voyage, he was to be persuaded to stay and assist as grinder in the mill, and go to sea no more. 'a sailor-miller!' said anne. 'o, he knows as much about mill business as i do,' said loveday; 'he was intended for it, you know, like john. but, bless me!' he continued, 'i am before my story. i'm come more particularly to ask you, ma'am, and you, anne my honey, if you will join me and a few friends at a leetle homely supper that i shall gi'e to please the chap now he's come? i can do no less than have a bit of a randy, as the saying is, now that he's here safe and sound.' mrs. garland wanted to catch her daughter's eye; she was in some doubt about her answer. but anne's eye was not to be caught, for she hated hints, nods, and calculations of any kind in matters which should be regulated by impulse; and the matron replied, 'if so be 'tis possible, we'll be there. you will tell us the day?' he would, as soon as he had seen son john. ''twill be rather untidy, you know, owing to my having no womenfolks in the house; and my man david is a poor dunder-headed feller for getting up a feast. poor chap! his sight is bad, that's true, and he's very good at making the beds, and oiling the legs of the chairs and other furniture, or i should have got rid of him years ago.' 'you should have a woman to attend to the house, loveday,' said the widow. 'yes, i should, but--. well, 'tis a fine day, neighbours. hark! i fancy i hear the noise of pots and pans up at the camp, or my ears deceive me. poor fellows, they must be hungry! good day t'ye, ma'am.' and the miller went away. all that afternoon overcombe continued in a ferment of interest in the military investment, which brought the excitement of an invasion without the strife. there were great discussions on the merits and appearance of the soldiery. the event opened up, to the girls unbounded possibilities of adoring and being adored, and to the young men an embarrassment of dashing acquaintances which quite superseded falling in love. thirteen of these lads incontinently stated within the space of a quarter of an hour that there was nothing in the world like going for a soldier. the young women stated little, but perhaps thought the more; though, in justice, they glanced round towards the encampment from the corners of their blue and brown eyes in the most demure and modest manner that could be desired. in the evening the village was lively with soldiers' wives; a tree full of starlings would not have rivalled the chatter that was going on. these ladies were very brilliantly dressed, with more regard for colour than for material. purple, red, and blue bonnets were numerous, with bunches of cocks' feathers; and one had on an arcadian hat of green sarcenet, turned up in front to show her cap underneath. it had once belonged to an officer's lady, and was not so much stained, except where the occasional storms of rain, incidental to a military life, had caused the green to run and stagnate in curious watermarks like peninsulas and islands. some of the prettiest of these butterfly wives had been fortunate enough to get lodgings in the cottages, and were thus spared the necessity of living in huts and tents on the down. those who had not been so fortunate were not rendered more amiable by the success of their sisters-in-arms, and called them names which brought forth retorts and rejoinders; till the end of these alternative remarks seemed dependent upon the close of the day. one of these new arrivals, who had a rosy nose and a slight thickness of voice, which, as anne said, she couldn't help, poor thing, seemed to have seen so much of the world, and to have been in so many campaigns, that anne would have liked to take her into their own house, so as to acquire some of that practical knowledge of the history of england which the lady possessed, and which could not be got from books. but the narrowness of mrs. garland's rooms absolutely forbade this, and the houseless treasury of experience was obliged to look for quarters elsewhere. that night anne retired early to bed. the events of the day, cheerful as they were in themselves, had been unusual enough to give her a slight headache. before getting into bed she went to the window, and lifted the white curtains that hung across it. the moon was shining, though not as yet into the valley, but just peeping above the ridge of the down, where the white cones of the encampment were softly touched by its light. the quarter-guard and foremost tents showed themselves prominently; but the body of the camp, the officers' tents, kitchens, canteen, and appurtenances in the rear were blotted out by the ground, because of its height above her. she could discern the forms of one or two sentries moving to and fro across the disc of the moon at intervals. she could hear the frequent shuffling and tossing of the horses tied to the pickets; and in the other direction the miles-long voice of the sea, whispering a louder note at those points of its length where hampered in its ebb and flow by some jutting promontory or group of boulders. louder sounds suddenly broke this approach to silence; they came from the camp of dragoons, were taken up further to the right by the camp of the hanoverians, and further on still by the body of infantry. it was tattoo. feeling no desire to sleep, she listened yet longer, looked at charles's wain swinging over the church tower, and the moon ascending higher and higher over the right-hand streets of tents, where, instead of parade and bustle, there was nothing going on but snores and dreams, the tired soldiers lying by this time under their proper canvases, radiating like spokes from the pole of each tent. at last anne gave up thinking, and retired like the rest. the night wore on, and, except the occasional 'all's well' of the sentries, no voice was heard in the camp or in the village below. iii. the mill becomes an important centre of operations the next morning miss garland awoke with an impression that something more than usual was going on, and she recognized as soon as she could clearly reason that the proceedings, whatever they might be, lay not far away from her bedroom window. the sounds were chiefly those of pickaxes and shovels. anne got up, and, lifting the corner of the curtain about an inch, peeped out. a number of soldiers were busily engaged in making a zigzag path down the incline from the camp to the river-head at the back of the house, and judging from the quantity of work already got through they must have begun very early. squads of men were working at several equidistant points in the proposed pathway, and by the time that anne had dressed herself each section of the length had been connected with those above and below it, so that a continuous and easy track was formed from the crest of the down to the bottom of the steep. the down rested on a bed of solid chalk, and the surface exposed by the roadmakers formed a white ribbon, serpenting from top to bottom. then the relays of working soldiers all disappeared, and, not long after, a troop of dragoons in watering order rode forward at the top and began to wind down the new path. they came lower and closer, and at last were immediately beneath her window, gathering themselves up on the space by the mill-pond. a number of the horses entered it at the shallow part, drinking and splashing and tossing about. perhaps as many as thirty, half of them with riders on their backs, were in the water at one time; the thirsty animals drank, stamped, flounced, and drank again, letting the clear, cool water dribble luxuriously from their mouths. miller loveday was looking on from over his garden hedge, and many admiring villagers were gathered around. gazing up higher, anne saw other troops descending by the new road from the camp, those which had already been to the pond making room for these by withdrawing along the village lane and returning to the top by a circuitous route. suddenly the miller exclaimed, as in fulfilment of expectation, 'ah, john, my boy; good morning!' and the reply of 'morning, father,' came from a well-mounted soldier near him, who did not, however, form one of the watering party. anne could not see his face very clearly, but she had no doubt that this was john loveday. there were tones in the voice which reminded her of old times, those of her very infancy, when johnny loveday had been top boy in the village school, and had wanted to learn painting of her father. the deeps and shallows of the mill-pond being better known to him than to any other man in the camp, he had apparently come down on that account, and was cautioning some of the horsemen against riding too far in towards the mill-head. since her childhood and his enlistment anne had seen him only once, and then but casually, when he was home on a short furlough. his figure was not much changed from what it had been; but the many sunrises and sunsets which had passed since that day, developing her from a comparative child to womanhood, had abstracted some of his angularities, reddened his skin, and given him a foreign look. it was interesting to see what years of training and service had done for this man. few would have supposed that the white and the blue coats of miller and soldier covered the forms of father and son. before the last troop of dragoons rode off they were welcomed in a body by miller loveday, who still stood in his outer garden, this being a plot lying below the mill-tail, and stretching to the water-side. it was just the time of year when cherries are ripe, and hang in clusters under their dark leaves. while the troopers loitered on their horses, and chatted to the miller across the stream, he gathered bunches of the fruit, and held them up over the garden hedge for the acceptance of anybody who would have them; whereupon the soldiers rode into the water to where it had washed holes in the garden bank, and, reining their horses there, caught the cherries in their forage-caps, or received bunches of them on the ends of their switches, with the dignified laugh that became martial men when stooping to slightly boyish amusement. it was a cheerful, careless, unpremeditated half-hour, which returned like the scent of a flower to the memories of some of those who enjoyed it, even at a distance of many years after, when they lay wounded and weak in foreign lands. then dragoons and horses wheeled off as the others had done; and troops of the german legion next came down and entered in panoramic procession the space below anne's eyes, as if on purpose to gratify her. these were notable by their mustachios, and queues wound tightly with brown ribbon to the level of their broad shoulder-blades. they were charmed, as the others had been, by the head and neck of miss garland in the little square window overlooking the scene of operations, and saluted her with devoted foreign civility, and in such overwhelming numbers that the modest girl suddenly withdrew herself into the room, and had a private blush between the chest of drawers and the washing-stand. when she came downstairs her mother said, 'i have been thinking what i ought to wear to miller loveday's to-night.' 'to miller loveday's?' said anne. 'yes. the party is to-night. he has been in here this morning to tell me that he has seen his son, and they have fixed this evening.' 'do you think we ought to go, mother?' said anne slowly, and looking at the smaller features of the window-flowers. 'why not?' said mrs. garland. 'he will only have men there except ourselves, will he? and shall we be right to go alone among 'em?' anne had not recovered from the ardent gaze of the gallant york hussars, whose voices reached her even now in converse with loveday. 'la, anne, how proud you are!' said widow garland. 'why, isn't he our nearest neighbour and our landlord? and don't he always fetch our faggots from the wood, and keep us in vegetables for next to nothing?' 'that's true,' said anne. 'well, we can't be distant with the man. and if the enemy land next autumn, as everybody says they will, we shall have quite to depend upon the miller's waggon and horses. he's our only friend.' 'yes, so he is,' said anne. 'and you had better go, mother; and i'll stay at home. they will be all men; and i don't like going.' mrs. garland reflected. 'well, if you don't want to go, i don't,' she said. 'perhaps, as you are growing up, it would be better to stay at home this time. your father was a professional man, certainly.' having spoken as a mother, she sighed as a woman. 'why do you sigh, mother?' 'you are so prim and stiff about everything.' 'very well--we'll go.' 'o no--i am not sure that we ought. i did not promise, and there will be no trouble in keeping away.' anne apparently did not feel certain of her own opinion, and, instead of supporting or contradicting, looked thoughtfully down, and abstractedly brought her hands together on her bosom, till her fingers met tip to tip. as the day advanced the young woman and her mother became aware that great preparations were in progress in the miller's wing of the house. the partitioning between the lovedays and the garlands was not very thorough, consisting in many cases of a simple screwing up of the doors in the dividing walls; and thus when the mill began any new performances they proclaimed themselves at once in the more private dwelling. the smell of miller loveday's pipe came down mrs. garland's chimney of an evening with the greatest regularity. every time that he poked his fire they knew from the vehemence or deliberateness of the blows the precise state of his mind; and when he wound his clock on sunday nights the whirr of that monitor reminded the widow to wind hers. this transit of noises was most perfect where loveday's lobby adjoined mrs. garland's pantry; and anne, who was occupied for some time in the latter apartment, enjoyed the privilege of hearing the visitors arrive and of catching stray sounds and words without the connecting phrases that made them entertaining, to judge from the laughter they evoked. the arrivals passed through the house and went into the garden, where they had tea in a large summer-house, an occasional blink of bright colour, through the foliage, being all that was visible of the assembly from mrs. garland's windows. when it grew dusk they all could be heard coming indoors to finish the evening in the parlour. then there was an intensified continuation of the above-mentioned signs of enjoyment, talkings and haw-haws, runnings upstairs and runnings down, a slamming of doors and a clinking of cups and glasses; till the proudest adjoining tenant without friends on his own side of the partition might have been tempted to wish for entrance to that merry dwelling, if only to know the cause of these fluctuations of hilarity, and to see if the guests were really so numerous, and the observations so very amusing as they seemed. the stagnation of life on the garland side of the party-wall began to have a very gloomy effect by the contrast. when, about half-past nine o'clock, one of these tantalizing bursts of gaiety had resounded for a longer time than usual, anne said, 'i believe, mother, that you are wishing you had gone.' 'i own to feeling that it would have been very cheerful if we had joined in,' said mrs. garland, in a hankering tone. 'i was rather too nice in listening to you and not going. the parson never calls upon us except in his spiritual capacity. old derriman is hardly genteel; and there's nobody left to speak to. lonely people must accept what company they can get.' 'or do without it altogether.' 'that's not natural, anne; and i am surprised to hear a young woman like you say such a thing. nature will not be stifled in that way. . . .' (song and powerful chorus heard through partition.) 'i declare the room on the other side of the wall seems quite a paradise compared with this.' 'mother, you are quite a girl,' said anne in slightly superior accents. 'go in and join them by all means.' 'o no--not now,' said her mother, resignedly shaking her head. 'it is too late now. we ought to have taken advantage of the invitation. they would look hard at me as a poor mortal who had no real business there, and the miller would say, with his broad smile, "ah, you be obliged to come round."' while the sociable and unaspiring mrs. garland continued thus to pass the evening in two places, her body in her own house and her mind in the miller's, somebody knocked at the door, and directly after the elder loveday himself was admitted to the room. he was dressed in a suit between grand and gay, which he used for such occasions as the present, and his blue coat, yellow and red waistcoat with the three lower buttons unfastened, steel-buckled shoes and speckled stockings, became him very well in mrs. martha garland's eyes. 'your servant, ma'am,' said the miller, adopting as a matter of propriety the raised standard of politeness required by his higher costume. 'now, begging your pardon, i can't hae this. 'tis unnatural that you two ladies should be biding here and we under the same roof making merry without ye. your husband, poor man--lovely picters that a' would make to be sure--would have been in with us long ago if he had been in your place. i can take no nay from ye, upon my honour. you and maidy anne must come in, if it be only for half-an-hour. john and his friends have got passes till twelve o'clock to-night, and, saving a few of our own village folk, the lowest visitor present is a very genteel german corporal. if you should hae any misgivings on the score of respectability, ma'am, we'll pack off the underbred ones into the back kitchen.' widow garland and anne looked yes at each other after this appeal. 'we'll follow you in a few minutes,' said the elder, smiling; and she rose with anne to go upstairs. 'no, i'll wait for ye,' said the miller doggedly; 'or perhaps you'll alter your mind again.' while the mother and daughter were upstairs dressing, and saying laughingly to each other, 'well, we must go now,' as if they hadn't wished to go all the evening, other steps were heard in the passage; and the miller cried from below, 'your pardon, mrs. garland; but my son john has come to help fetch ye. shall i ask him in till ye be ready?' 'certainly; i shall be down in a minute,' screamed anne's mother in a slanting voice towards the staircase. when she descended, the outline of the trumpet-major appeared half-way down the passage. 'this is john,' said the miller simply. 'john, you can mind mrs. martha garland very well?' 'very well, indeed,' said the dragoon, coming in a little further. 'i should have called to see her last time, but i was only home a week. how is your little girl, ma'am?' mrs. garland said anne was quite well. 'she is grown-up now. she will be down in a moment.' there was a slight noise of military heels without the door, at which the trumpet-major went and put his head outside, and said, 'all right--coming in a minute,' when voices in the darkness replied, 'no hurry.' 'more friends?' said mrs. garland. 'o, it is only buck and jones come to fetch me,' said the soldier. 'shall i ask 'em in a minute, mrs garland, ma'am?' 'o yes,' said the lady; and the two interesting forms of trumpeter buck and saddler-sergeant jones then came forward in the most friendly manner; whereupon other steps were heard without, and it was discovered that sergeant-master-tailor brett and farrier-extraordinary johnson were outside, having come to fetch messrs. buck and jones, as buck and jones had come to fetch the trumpet-major. as there seemed a possibility of mrs. garland's small passage being choked up with human figures personally unknown to her, she was relieved to hear anne coming downstairs. 'here's my little girl,' said mrs. garland, and the trumpet-major looked with a sort of awe upon the muslin apparition who came forward, and stood quite dumb before her. anne recognized him as the trooper she had seen from her window, and welcomed him kindly. there was something in his honest face which made her feel instantly at home with him. at this frankness of manner loveday--who was not a ladies' man--blushed, and made some alteration in his bodily posture, began a sentence which had no end, and showed quite a boy's embarrassment. recovering himself, he politely offered his arm, which anne took with a very pretty grace. he conducted her through his comrades, who glued themselves perpendicularly to the wall to let her pass, and then they went out of the door, her mother following with the miller, and supported by the body of troopers, the latter walking with the usual cavalry gait, as if their thighs were rather too long for them. thus they crossed the threshold of the mill- house and up the passage, the paving of which was worn into a gutter by the ebb and flow of feet that had been going on there ever since tudor times. iv. who were present at the miller's little entertainment when the group entered the presence of the company a lull in the conversation was caused by the sight of new visitors, and (of course) by the charm of anne's appearance; until the old men, who had daughters of their own, perceiving that she was only a half-formed girl, resumed their tales and toss-potting with unconcern. miller loveday had fraternized with half the soldiers in the camp since their arrival, and the effect of this upon his party was striking--both chromatically and otherwise. those among the guests who first attracted the eye were the sergeants and sergeant-majors of loveday's regiment, fine hearty men, who sat facing the candles, entirely resigned to physical comfort. then there were other non-commissioned officers, a german, two hungarians, and a swede, from the foreign hussars--young men with a look of sadness on their faces, as if they did not much like serving so far from home. all of them spoke english fairly well. old age was represented by simon burden the pensioner, and the shady side of fifty by corporal tullidge, his friend and neighbour, who was hard of hearing, and sat with his hat on over a red cotton handkerchief that was wound several times round his head. these two veterans were employed as watchers at the neighbouring beacon, which had lately been erected by the lord-lieutenant for firing whenever the descent on the coast should be made. they lived in a little hut on the hill, close by the heap of faggots; but to-night they had found deputies to watch in their stead. on a lower plane of experience and qualifications came neighbour james comfort, of the volunteers, a soldier by courtesy, but a blacksmith by rights; also william tremlett and anthony cripplestraw, of the local forces. the two latter men of war were dressed merely as villagers, and looked upon the regulars from a humble position in the background. the remainder of the party was made up of a neighbouring dairyman or two, and their wives, invited by the miller, as anne was glad to see, that she and her mother should not be the only women there. the elder loveday apologized in a whisper to mrs. garland for the presence of the inferior villagers. 'but as they are learning to be brave defenders of their home and country, ma'am, as fast as they can master the drill, and have worked for me off and on these many years, i've asked 'em in, and thought you'd excuse it.' 'certainly, miller loveday,' said the widow. 'and the same of old burden and tullidge. they have served well and long in the foot, and even now have a hard time of it up at the beacon in wet weather. so after giving them a meal in the kitchen i just asked 'em in to hear the singing. they faithfully promise that as soon as ever the gunboats appear in view, and they have fired the beacon, to run down here first, in case we shouldn't see it. 'tis worth while to be friendly with 'em, you see, though their tempers be queer.' 'quite worth while, miller,' said she. anne was rather embarrassed by the presence of the regular military in such force, and at first confined her words to the dairymen's wives she was acquainted with, and to the two old soldiers of the parish. 'why didn't ye speak to me afore, chiel?' said one of these, corporal tullidge, the elderly man with the hat, while she was talking to old simon burden. 'i met ye in the lane yesterday,' he added reproachfully, 'but ye didn't notice me at all.' 'i am very sorry for it,' she said; but, being afraid to shout in such a company, the effect of her remark upon the corporal was as if she had not spoken at all. 'you was coming along with yer head full of some high notions or other no doubt,' continued the uncompromising corporal in the same loud voice. 'ah, 'tis the young bucks that get all the notice nowadays, and old folks are quite forgot! i can mind well enough how young bob loveday used to lie in wait for ye.' anne blushed deeply, and stopped his too excursive discourse by hastily saying that she always respected old folks like him. the corporal thought she inquired why he always kept his hat on, and answered that it was because his head was injured at valenciennes, in july, ninety-three. 'we were trying to bomb down the tower, and a piece of the shell struck me. i was no more nor less than a dead man for two days. if it hadn't a been for that and my smashed arm i should have come home none the worse for my five-and-twenty years' service.' 'you have got a silver plate let into yer head, haven't ye, corpel?' said anthony cripplestraw, who had drawn near. 'i have heard that the way they morticed yer skull was a beautiful piece of workmanship. perhaps the young woman would like to see the place? 'tis a curious sight, mis'ess anne; you don't see such a wownd every day.' 'no, thank you,' said anne hurriedly, dreading, as did all the young people of overcombe, the spectacle of the corporal uncovered. he had never been seen in public without the hat and the handkerchief since his return in ninety-four; and strange stories were told of the ghastliness of his appearance bare-headed, a little boy who had accidentally beheld him going to bed in that state having been frightened into fits. 'well, if the young woman don't want to see yer head, maybe she'd like to hear yer arm?' continued cripplestraw, earnest to please her. 'hey?' said the corporal. 'your arm hurt too?' cried anne. 'knocked to a pummy at the same time as my head,' said tullidge dispassionately. 'rattle yer arm, corpel, and show her,' said cripplestraw. 'yes, sure,' said the corporal, raising the limb slowly, as if the glory of exhibition had lost some of its novelty, though he was willing to oblige. twisting it mercilessly about with his right hand he produced a crunching among the bones at every motion, cripplestraw seeming to derive great satisfaction from the ghastly sound. 'how very shocking!' said anne, painfully anxious for him to leave off. 'o, it don't hurt him, bless ye. do it, corpel?' said cripplestraw. 'not a bit,' said the corporal, still working his arm with great energy. 'there's no life in the bones at all. no life in 'em, i tell her, corpel!' 'none at all.' 'they be as loose as a bag of ninepins,' explained cripplestraw in continuation. 'you can feel 'em quite plain, mis'ess anne. if ye would like to, he'll undo his sleeve in a minute to oblege ye?' 'o no, no, please not! i quite understand,' said the young woman. 'do she want to hear or see any more, or don't she?' the corporal inquired, with a sense that his time was getting wasted. anne explained that she did not on any account; and managed to escape from the corner. v. the song and the stranger the trumpet-major now contrived to place himself near her, anne's presence having evidently been a great pleasure to him since the moment of his first seeing her. she was quite at her ease with him, and asked him if he thought that buonaparte would really come during the summer, and many other questions which the gallant dragoon could not answer, but which he nevertheless liked to be asked. william tremlett, who had not enjoyed a sound night's rest since the first consul's menace had become known, pricked up his ears at sound of this subject, and inquired if anybody had seen the terrible flat-bottomed boats that the enemy were to cross in. 'my brother robert saw several of them paddling about the shore the last time he passed the straits of dover,' said the trumpet-major; and he further startled the company by informing them that there were supposed to be more than fifteen hundred of these boats, and that they would carry a hundred men apiece. so that a descent of one hundred and fifty thousand men might be expected any day as soon as boney had brought his plans to bear. 'lord ha' mercy upon us!' said william tremlett. 'the night-time is when they will try it, if they try it at all,' said old tullidge, in the tone of one whose watch at the beacon must, in the nature of things, have given him comprehensive views of the situation. 'it is my belief that the point they will choose for making the shore is just over there,' and he nodded with indifference towards a section of the coast at a hideous nearness to the house in which they were assembled, whereupon fencible tremlett, and cripplestraw of the locals, tried to show no signs of trepidation. 'when d'ye think 'twill be?' said volunteer comfort, the blacksmith. 'i can't answer to a day,' said the corporal, 'but it will certainly be in a down-channel tide; and instead of pulling hard against it, he'll let his boats drift, and that will bring 'em right into budmouth bay. 'twill be a beautiful stroke of war, if so be 'tis quietly done!' 'beautiful,' said cripplestraw, moving inside his clothes. 'but how if we should be all abed, corpel? you can't expect a man to be brave in his shirt, especially we locals, that have only got so far as shoulder fire- locks.' 'he's not coming this summer. he'll never come at all,' said a tall sergeant-major decisively. loveday the soldier was too much engaged in attending upon anne and her mother to join in these surmises, bestirring himself to get the ladies some of the best liquor the house afforded, which had, as a matter of fact, crossed the channel as privately as buonaparte wished his army to do, and had been landed on a dark night over the cliff. after this he asked anne to sing, but though she had a very pretty voice in private performances of that nature, she declined to oblige him; turning the subject by making a hesitating inquiry about his brother robert, whom he had mentioned just before. 'robert is as well as ever, thank you, miss garland,' he said. 'he is now mate of the brig pewit--rather young for such a command; but the owner puts great trust in him.' the trumpet-major added, deepening his thoughts to a profounder view of the person discussed, 'bob is in love.' anne looked conscious, and listened attentively; but loveday did not go on. 'much?' she asked. 'i can't exactly say. and the strange part of it is that he never tells us who the woman is. nobody knows at all.' 'he will tell, of course?' said anne, in the remote tone of a person with whose sex such matters had no connexion whatever. loveday shook his head, and the tete-a-tete was put an end to by a burst of singing from one of the sergeants, who was followed at the end of his song by others, each giving a ditty in his turn; the singer standing up in front of the table, stretching his chin well into the air, as though to abstract every possible wrinkle from his throat, and then plunging into the melody. when this was over one of the foreign hussars--the genteel german of miller loveday's description, who called himself a hungarian, and in reality belonged to no definite country--performed at trumpet-major loveday's request the series of wild motions that he denominated his national dance, that anne might see what it was like. miss garland was the flower of the whole company; the soldiers one and all, foreign and english, seemed to be quite charmed by her presence, as indeed they well might be, considering how seldom they came into the society of such as she. anne and her mother were just thinking of retiring to their own dwelling when sergeant stanner of the --th foot, who was recruiting at budmouth, began a satirical song:-- when law'-yers strive' to heal' a breach', and par-sons prac'-tise what' they preach'; then lit'-tle bo-ney he'll pounce down', and march' his men' on lon'-don town'! chorus.--rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay. when jus'-ti-ces' hold e'qual scales', and rogues' are on'-ly found' in jails'; then lit'tle bo'-ney he'll pounce down', and march' his men' on lon'-don town'! chorus.--rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay. when rich' men find' their wealth' a curse', and fill' there-with' the poor' man's purse'; then lit'-tle bo'-ney he'll pounce down', and march' his men' on lon'-don town'! chorus.--rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay. poor stanner! in spite of his satire, he fell at the bloody battle of albuera a few years after this pleasantly spent summer at the georgian watering-place, being mortally wounded and trampled down by a french hussar when the brigade was deploying into line under beresford. while miller loveday was saying 'well done, mr. stanner!' at the close of the thirteenth stanza, which seemed to be the last, and mr. stanner was modestly expressing his regret that he could do no better, a stentorian voice was heard outside the window shutter repeating, rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay. the company was silent in a moment at this reinforcement, and only the military tried not to look surprised. while all wondered who the singer could be somebody entered the porch; the door opened, and in came a young man, about the size and weight of the farnese hercules, in the uniform of the yeomanry cavalry. ''tis young squire derriman, old mr. derriman's nephew,' murmured voices in the background. without waiting to address anybody, or apparently seeing who were gathered there, the colossal man waved his cap above his head and went on in tones that shook the window-panes:-- when hus'-bands with' their wives' agree'. and maids' won't wed' from mod'-es-ty', then lit'-tle bo'-ney he'll pounce down', and march' his men' on lon'-don town'! chorus.--rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay. it was a verse which had been omitted by the gallant stanner, out of respect to the ladies. the new-comer was red-haired and of florid complexion, and seemed full of a conviction that his whim of entering must be their pleasure, which for the moment it was. 'no ceremony, good men all,' he said; 'i was passing by, and my ear was caught by the singing. i like singing; 'tis warming and cheering, and shall not be put down. i should like to hear anybody say otherwise.' 'welcome, master derriman,' said the miller, filling a glass and handing it to the yeoman. 'come all the way from quarters, then? i hardly knowed ye in your soldier's clothes. you'd look more natural with a spud in your hand, sir. i shouldn't ha' known ye at all if i hadn't heard that you were called out.' 'more natural with a spud!--have a care, miller,' said the young giant, the fire of his complexion increasing to scarlet. 'i don't mean anger, but--but--a soldier's honour, you know!' the military in the background laughed a little, and the yeoman then for the first time discovered that there were more regulars present than one. he looked momentarily disconcerted, but expanded again to full assurance. 'right, right, master derriman, no offence--'twas only my joke,' said the genial miller. 'everybody's a soldier nowadays. drink a drap o' this cordial, and don't mind words.' the young man drank without the least reluctance, and said, 'yes, miller, i am called out. 'tis ticklish times for us soldiers now; we hold our lives in our hands--what are those fellows grinning at behind the table?--i say, we do!' 'staying with your uncle at the farm for a day or two, mr. derriman?' 'no, no; as i told you, six mile off. billeted at casterbridge. but i have to call and see the old, old--' 'gentleman?' 'gentleman!--no, skinflint. he lives upon the sweepings of the barton; ha, ha!' and the speaker's regular white teeth showed themselves like snow in a dutch cabbage. 'well, well, the profession of arms makes a man proof against all that. i take things as i find 'em.' 'quite right, master derriman. another drop?' 'no, no. i'll take no more than is good for me--no man should; so don't tempt me.' the yeoman then saw anne, and by an unconscious gravitation went towards her and the other women, flinging a remark to john loveday in passing. 'ah, loveday! i heard you were come; in short, i come o' purpose to see you. glad to see you enjoying yourself at home again.' the trumpet-major replied civilly, though not without grimness, for he seemed hardly to like derriman's motion towards anne. 'widow garland's daughter!--yes, 'tis! surely. you remember me? i have been here before. festus derriman, yeomanry cavalry.' anne gave a little curtsey. 'i know your name is festus--that's all.' 'yes, 'tis well known--especially latterly.' he dropped his voice to confidence pitch. 'i suppose your friends here are disturbed by my coming in, as they don't seem to talk much? i don't mean to interrupt the party; but i often find that people are put out by my coming among 'em, especially when i've got my regimentals on.' 'la! and are they?' 'yes; 'tis the way i have.' he further lowered his tone, as if they had been old friends, though in reality he had only seen her three or four times. 'and how did you come to be here? dash my wig, i don't like to see a nice young lady like you in this company. you should come to some of our yeomanry sprees in casterbridge or shottsford-forum. o, but the girls do come! the yeomanry are respected men, men of good substantial families, many farming their own land; and every one among us rides his own charger, which is more than these cussed fellows do.' he nodded towards the dragoons. 'hush, hush! why, these are friends and neighbours of miller loveday, and he is a great friend of ours--our best friend,' said anne with great emphasis, and reddening at the sense of injustice to their host. 'what are you thinking of, talking like that? it is ungenerous in you.' 'ha, ha! i've affronted you. isn't that it, fair angel, fair--what do you call it?--fair vestal? ah, well! would you was safe in my own house! but honour must be minded now, not courting. rollicum-rorum, tol-lol- lorum. pardon me, my sweet, i like ye! it may be a come down for me, owning land; but i do like ye.' 'sir, please be quiet,' said anne, distressed. 'i will, i will. well, corporal tullidge, how's your head?' he said, going towards the other end of the room, and leaving anne to herself. the company had again recovered its liveliness, and it was a long time before the bouncing rufus who had joined them could find heart to tear himself away from their society and good liquors, although he had had quite enough of the latter before he entered. the natives received him at his own valuation, and the soldiers of the camp, who sat beyond the table, smiled behind their pipes at his remarks, with a pleasant twinkle of the eye which approached the satirical, john loveday being not the least conspicuous in this bearing. but he and his friends were too courteous on such an occasion as the present to challenge the young man's large remarks, and readily permitted him to set them right on the details of camping and other military routine, about which the troopers seemed willing to let persons hold any opinion whatever, provided that they themselves were not obliged to give attention to it; showing, strangely enough, that if there was one subject more than another which never interested their minds, it was the art of war. to them the art of enjoying good company in overcombe mill, the details of the miller's household, the swarming of his bees, the number of his chickens, and the fatness of his pigs, were matters of infinitely greater concern. the present writer, to whom this party has been described times out of number by members of the loveday family and other aged people now passed away, can never enter the old living-room of overcombe mill without beholding the genial scene through the mists of the seventy or eighty years that intervene between then and now. first and brightest to the eye are the dozen candles, scattered about regardless of expense, and kept well snuffed by the miller, who walks round the room at intervals of five minutes, snuffers in hand, and nips each wick with great precision, and with something of an executioner's grim look upon his face as he closes the snuffers upon the neck of the candle. next to the candle-light show the red and blue coats and white breeches of the soldiers--nearly twenty of them in all besides the ponderous derriman--the head of the latter, and, indeed, the heads of all who are standing up, being in dangerous proximity to the black beams of the ceiling. there is not one among them who would attach any meaning to 'vittoria,' or gather from the syllables 'waterloo' the remotest idea of his own glory or death. next appears the correct and innocent anne, little thinking what things time has in store for her at no great distance off. she looks at derriman with a half-uneasy smile as he clanks hither and thither, and hopes he will not single her out again to hold a private dialogue with--which, however, he does, irresistibly attracted by the white muslin figure. she must, of course, look a little gracious again now, lest his mood should turn from sentimental to quarrelsome--no impossible contingency with the yeoman-soldier, as her quick perception had noted. 'well, well; this idling won't do for me, folks,' he at last said, to anne's relief. 'i ought not to have come in, by rights; but i heard you enjoying yourselves, and thought it might be worth while to see what you were up to; i have several miles to go before bedtime;' and stretching his arms, lifting his chin, and shaking his head, to eradicate any unseemly curve or wrinkle from his person, the yeoman wished them an off- hand good-night, and departed. 'you should have teased him a little more, father,' said the trumpet-major drily. 'you could soon have made him as crabbed as a bear.' 'i didn't want to provoke the chap--'twasn't worth while. he came in friendly enough,' said the gentle miller without looking up. 'i don't think he was overmuch friendly,' said john. ''tis as well to be neighbourly with folks, if they be not quite onbearable,' his father genially replied, as he took off his coat to go and draw more ale--this periodical stripping to the shirt-sleeves being necessitated by the narrowness of the cellar and the smeary effect of its numerous cobwebs upon best clothes. some of the guests then spoke of fess derriman as not such a bad young man if you took him right and humoured him; others said that he was nobody's enemy but his own; and the elder ladies mentioned in a tone of interest that he was likely to come into a deal of money at his uncle's death. the person who did not praise was the one who knew him best, who had known him as a boy years ago, when he had lived nearer to overcombe than he did at present. this unappreciative person was the trumpet-major. vi. old mr. derriman of oxwell hall at this time in the history of overcombe one solitary newspaper occasionally found its way into the village. it was lent by the postmaster at budmouth (who, in some mysterious way, got it for nothing through his connexion with the mail) to mr. derriman at the hall, by whom it was handed on to mrs. garland when it was not more than a fortnight old. whoever remembers anything about the old farmer-squire will, of course, know well enough that this delightful privilege of reading history in long columns was not accorded to the widow garland for nothing. it was by such ingenuous means that he paid her for her daughter's occasional services in reading aloud to him and making out his accounts, in which matters the farmer, whose guineas were reported to touch five figures--some said more--was not expert. mrs. martha garland, as a respectable widow, occupied a twilight rank between the benighted villagers and the well-informed gentry, and kindly made herself useful to the former as letter-writer and reader, and general translator from the printing tongue. it was not without satisfaction that she stood at her door of an evening, newspaper in hand, with three or four cottagers standing round, and poured down their open throats any paragraph that she might choose to select from the stirring ones of the period. when she had done with the sheet mrs. garland passed it on to the miller, the miller to the grinder, and the grinder to the grinder's boy, in whose hands it became subdivided into half pages, quarter pages, and irregular triangles, and ended its career as a paper cap, a flagon bung, or a wrapper for his bread and cheese. notwithstanding his compact with mrs. garland, old mr. derriman kept the paper so long, and was so chary of wasting his man's time on a merely intellectual errand, that unless she sent for the journal it seldom reached her hands. anne was always her messenger. the arrival of the soldiers led mrs. garland to despatch her daughter for it the day after the party; and away she went in her hat and pelisse, in a direction at right angles to that of the encampment on the hill. walking across the fields for the distance of a mile or two, she came out upon the high-road by a wicket-gate. on the other side of the way was the entrance to what at first sight looked like a neglected meadow, the gate being a rotten one, without a bottom rail, and broken-down palings lying on each side. the dry hard mud of the opening was marked with several horse and cow tracks, that had been half obliterated by fifty score sheep tracks, surcharged with the tracks of a man and a dog. beyond this geological record appeared a carriage-road, nearly grown over with grass, which anne followed. it descended by a gentle slope, dived under dark-rinded elm and chestnut trees, and conducted her on till the hiss of a waterfall and the sound of the sea became audible, when it took a bend round a swamp of fresh watercress and brooklime that had once been a fish pond. here the grey, weather-worn front of a building edged from behind the trees. it was oxwell hall, once the seat of a family now extinct, and of late years used as a farmhouse. benjamin derriman, who owned the crumbling place, had originally been only the occupier and tenant-farmer of the fields around. his wife had brought him a small fortune, and during the growth of their only son there had been a partition of the oxwell estate, giving the farmer, now a widower, the opportunity of acquiring the building and a small portion of the land attached on exceptionally low terms. but two years after the purchase the boy died, and derriman's existence was paralyzed forthwith. it was said that since that event he had devised the house and fields to a distant female relative, to keep them out of the hands of his detested nephew; but this was not certainly known. the hall was as interesting as mansions in a state of declension usually are, as the excellent county history showed. that popular work in folio contained an old plate dedicated to the last scion of the original owners, from which drawing it appeared that in , the date of publication, the windows were covered with little scratches like black flashes of lightning; that a horn of hard smoke came out of each of the twelve chimneys; that a lady and a lap-dog stood on the lawn in a strenuously walking position; and a substantial cloud and nine flying birds of no known species hung over the trees to the north-east. the rambling and neglected dwelling had all the romantic excellencies and practical drawbacks which such mildewed places share in common with caves, mountains, wildernesses, glens, and other homes of poesy that people of taste wish to live and die in. mustard and cress could have been raised on the inner plaster of the dewy walls at any height not exceeding three feet from the floor; and mushrooms of the most refined and thin-stemmed kinds grew up through the chinks of the larder paving. as for the outside, nature, in the ample time that had been given her, had so mingled her filings and effacements with the marks of human wear and tear upon the house, that it was often hard to say in which of the two or if in both, any particular obliteration had its origin. the keenness was gone from the mouldings of the doorways, but whether worn out by the rubbing past of innumerable people's shoulders, and the moving of their heavy furniture, or by time in a grander and more abstract form, did not appear. the iron stanchions inside the window-panes were eaten away to the size of wires at the bottom where they entered the stone, the condensed breathings of generations having settled there in pools and rusted them. the panes themselves had either lost their shine altogether or become iridescent as a peacock's tail. in the middle of the porch was a vertical sun-dial, whose gnomon swayed loosely about when the wind blew, and cast its shadow hither and thither, as much as to say, 'here's your fine model dial; here's any time for any man; i am an old dial; and shiftiness is the best policy.' anne passed under the arched gateway which screened the main front; over it was the porter's lodge, reached by a spiral staircase. across the archway was fixed a row of wooden hurdles, one of which anne opened and closed behind her. their necessity was apparent as soon as she got inside. the quadrangle of the ancient pile was a bed of mud and manure, inhabited by calves, geese, ducks, and sow pigs surprisingly large, with young ones surprisingly small. in the groined porch some heifers were amusing themselves by stretching up their necks and licking the carved stone capitals that supported the vaulting. anne went on to a second and open door, across which was another hurdle to keep the live stock from absolute community with the inmates. there being no knocker, she knocked by means of a short stick which was laid against the post for that purpose; but nobody attending, she entered the passage, and tried an inner door. a slight noise was heard inside, the door opened about an inch, and a strip of decayed face, including the eye and some forehead wrinkles, appeared within the crevice. 'please i have come for the paper,' said anne. 'o, is it you, dear anne?' whined the inmate, opening the door a little further. 'i could hardly get to the door to open it, i am so weak.' the speaker was a wizened old gentleman, in a coat the colour of his farmyard, breeches of the same hue, unbuttoned at the knees, revealing a bit of leg above his stocking and a dazzlingly white shirt-frill to compensate for this untidiness below. the edge of his skull round his eye-sockets was visible through the skin, and he had a mouth whose corners made towards the back of his head on the slightest provocation. he walked with great apparent difficulty back into the room, anne following him. 'well, you can have the paper if you want it; but you never give me much time to see what's in en! here's the paper.' he held it out, but before she could take it he drew it back again, saying, 'i have not had my share o' the paper by a good deal, what with my weak sight, and people coming so soon for en. i am a poor put-upon soul; but my "duty of man" will be left to me when the newspaper is gone.' and he sank into his chair with an air of exhaustion. anne said that she did not wish to take the paper if he had not done with it, and that she was really later in the week than usual, owing to the soldiers. 'soldiers, yes--rot the soldiers! and now hedges will be broke, and hens' nests robbed, and sucking-pigs stole, and i don't know what all. who's to pay for't, sure? i reckon that because the soldiers be come you don't mean to be kind enough to read to me what i hadn't time to read myself.' she would read if he wished, she said; she was in no hurry. and sitting herself down she unfolded the paper. '"dinner at carlton house"?' 'no, faith. 'tis nothing to i.' '"defence of the country"?' 'ye may read that if ye will. i hope there will be no billeting in this parish, or any wild work of that sort; for what would a poor old lamiger like myself do with soldiers in his house, and nothing to feed 'em with?' anne began reading, and continued at her task nearly ten minutes, when she was interrupted by the appearance in the quadrangular slough without of a large figure in the uniform of the yeomanry cavalry. 'what do you see out there?' said the farmer with a start, as she paused and slowly blushed. 'a soldier--one of the yeomanry,' said anne, not quite at her ease. 'scrounch it all--'tis my nephew!' exclaimed the old man, his face turning to a phosphoric pallor, and his body twitching with innumerable alarms as he formed upon his face a gasping smile of joy, with which to welcome the new-coming relative. 'read on, prithee, miss garland.' before she had read far the visitor straddled over the door-hurdle into the passage and entered the room. 'well, nunc, how do you feel?' said the giant, shaking hands with the farmer in the manner of one violently ringing a hand-bell. 'glad to see you.' 'bad and weakish, festus,' replied the other, his person responding passively to the rapid vibrations imparted. 'o, be tender, please--a little softer, there's a dear nephew! my arm is no more than a cobweb.' 'ah, poor soul!' 'yes, i am not much more than a skeleton, and can't bear rough usage.' 'sorry to hear that; but i'll bear your affliction in mind. why, you are all in a tremble, uncle benjy!' ''tis because i am so gratified,' said the old man. 'i always get all in a tremble when i am taken by surprise by a beloved relation.' 'ah, that's it!' said the yeoman, bringing his hand down on the back of his uncle's chair with a loud smack, at which uncle benjy nervously sprang three inches from his seat and dropped into it again. 'ask your pardon for frightening ye, uncle. 'tis how we do in the army, and i forgot your nerves. you have scarcely expected to see me, i dare say, but here i am.' 'i am glad to see ye. you are not going to stay long, perhaps?' 'quite the contrary. i am going to stay ever so long!' 'o i see! i am so glad, dear festus. ever so long, did ye say?' 'yes, _ever_ so long,' said the young gentleman, sitting on the slope of the bureau and stretching out his legs as props. 'i am going to make this quite my own home whenever i am off duty, as long as we stay out. and after that, when the campaign is over in the autumn, i shall come here, and live with you like your own son, and help manage your land and your farm, you know, and make you a comfortable old man.' 'ah! how you do please me!' said the farmer, with a horrified smile, and grasping the arms of his chair to sustain himself. 'yes; i have been meaning to come a long time, as i knew you'd like to have me, uncle benjy; and 'tisn't in my heart to refuse you.' 'you always was kind that way!' 'yes; i always was. but i ought to tell you at once, not to disappoint you, that i shan't be here always--all day, that is, because of my military duties as a cavalry man.' 'o, not always? that's a pity!' exclaimed the farmer with a cheerful eye. 'i knew you'd say so. and i shan't be able to sleep here at night sometimes, for the same reason.' 'not sleep here o' nights?' said the old gentleman, still more relieved. 'you ought to sleep here--you certainly ought; in short, you must. but you can't!' 'not while we are with the colours. but directly that's over--the very next day--i'll stay here all day, and all night too, to oblige you, since you ask me so very kindly.' 'th-thank ye, that will be very nice!' said uncle benjy. 'yes, i knew 'twould relieve ye.' and he kindly stroked his uncle's head, the old man expressing his enjoyment at the affectionate token by a death's-head grimace. 'i should have called to see you the other night when i passed through here,' festus continued; 'but it was so late that i couldn't come so far out of my way. you won't think it unkind?' 'not at all, if you _couldn't_. i never shall think it unkind if you really _can't_ come, you know, festy.' there was a few minutes' pause, and as the nephew said nothing uncle benjy went on: 'i wish i had a little present for ye. but as ill-luck would have it we have lost a deal of stock this year, and i have had to pay away so much.' 'poor old man--i know you have. shall i lend you a seven-shilling piece, uncle benjy?' 'ha, ha!--you must have your joke; well, i'll think o' that. and so they expect buonaparty to choose this very part of the coast for his landing, hey? and that the yeomanry be to stand in front as the forlorn hope?' 'who says so?' asked the florid son of mars, losing a little redness. 'the newspaper-man.' 'o, there's nothing in that,' said festus bravely. 'the gover'ment thought it possible at one time; but they don't know.' festus turned himself as he talked, and now said abruptly: 'ah, who's this? why, 'tis our little anne!' he had not noticed her till this moment, the young woman having at his entry kept her face over the newspaper, and then got away to the back part of the room. 'and are you and your mother always going to stay down there in the mill-house watching the little fishes, miss anne?' she said that it was uncertain, in a tone of truthful precision which the question was hardly worth, looking forcedly at him as she spoke. but she blushed fitfully, in her arms and hands as much as in her face. not that she was overpowered by the great boots, formidable spurs, and other fierce appliances of his person, as he imagined; simply she had not been prepared to meet him there. 'i hope you will, i am sure, for my own good,' said he, letting his eyes linger on the round of her cheek. anne became a little more dignified, and her look showed reserve. but the yeoman on perceiving this went on talking to her in so civil a way that he irresistibly amused her, though she tried to conceal all feeling. at a brighter remark of his than usual her mouth moved, her upper lip playing uncertainly over her white teeth; it would stay still--no, it would withdraw a little way in a smile; then it would flutter down again; and so it wavered like a butterfly in a tender desire to be pleased and smiling, and yet to be also sedate and composed; to show him that she did not want compliments, and yet that she was not so cold as to wish to repress any genuine feeling he might be anxious to utter. 'shall you want any more reading, mr. derriman?' said she, interrupting the younger man in his remarks. 'if not, i'll go homeward.' 'don't let me hinder you longer,' said festus. 'i'm off in a minute or two, when your man has cleaned my boots.' 'ye don't hinder us, nephew. she must have the paper: 'tis the day for her to have 'n. she might read a little more, as i have had so little profit out o' en hitherto. well, why don't ye speak? will ye, or won't ye, my dear?' 'not to two,' she said. 'ho, ho! damn it, i must go then, i suppose,' said festus, laughing; and unable to get a further glance from her he left the room and clanked into the back yard, where he saw a man; holding up his hand he cried, 'anthony cripplestraw!' cripplestraw came up in a trot, moved a lock of his hair and replaced it, and said, 'yes, maister derriman.' he was old mr. derriman's odd hand in the yard and garden, and like his employer had no great pretensions to manly beauty, owing to a limpness of backbone and speciality of mouth, which opened on one side only, giving him a triangular smile. 'well, cripplestraw, how is it to-day?' said festus, with socially-superior heartiness. 'middlin', considering, maister derriman. and how's yerself?' 'fairish. well, now, see and clean these military boots of mine. i'll cock my foot up on this bench. this pigsty of my uncle's is not fit for a soldier to come into.' 'yes, maister derriman, i will. no, 'tis not fit, maister derriman.' 'what stock has uncle lost this year, cripplestraw?' 'well, let's see, sir. i can call to mind that we've lost three chickens, a tom-pigeon, and a weakly sucking-pig, one of a fare of ten. i can't think of no more, maister derriman.' 'h'm, not a large quantity of cattle. the old rascal!' 'no, 'tis not a large quantity. old what did you say, sir?' 'o nothing. he's within there.' festus flung his forehead in the direction of a right line towards the inner apartment. 'he's a regular sniche one.' 'hee, hee; fie, fie, master derriman!' said cripplestraw, shaking his head in delighted censure. 'gentlefolks shouldn't talk so. and an officer, mr. derriman! 'tis the duty of all cavalry gentlemen to bear in mind that their blood is a knowed thing in the country, and not to speak ill o't.' 'he's close-fisted.' 'well, maister, he is--i own he is a little. 'tis the nater of some old venerable gentlemen to be so. we'll hope he'll treat ye well in yer fortune, sir.' 'hope he will. do people talk about me here, cripplestraw?' asked the yeoman, as the other continued busy with his boots. 'well, yes, sir; they do off and on, you know. they says you be as fine a piece of calvery flesh and bones as was ever growed on fallow-ground; in short, all owns that you be a fine fellow, sir. i wish i wasn't no more afraid of the french than you be; but being in the locals, maister derriman, i assure ye i dream of having to defend my country every night; and i don't like the dream at all.' 'you should take it careless, cripplestraw, as i do; and 'twould soon come natural to you not to mind it at all. well, a fine fellow is not everything, you know. o no. there's as good as i in the army, and even better.' 'and they say that when you fall this summer, you'll die like a man.' 'when i fall?' 'yes, sure, maister derriman. poor soul o' thee! i shan't forget 'ee as you lie mouldering in yer soldier's grave.' 'hey?' said the warrior uneasily. 'what makes 'em think i am going to fall?' 'well, sir, by all accounts the yeomanry will be put in front.' 'front! that's what my uncle has been saying.' 'yes, and by all accounts 'tis true. and naterelly they'll be mowed down like grass; and you among 'em, poor young galliant officer!' 'look here, cripplestraw. this is a reg'lar foolish report. how can yeomanry be put in front? nobody's put in front. we yeomanry have nothing to do with buonaparte's landing. we shall be away in a safe place, guarding the possessions and jewels. now, can you see, cripplestraw, any way at all that the yeomanry can be put in front? do you think they really can?' 'well, maister, i am afraid i do,' said the cheering cripplestraw. 'and i know a great warrior like you is only too glad o' the chance. 'twill be a great thing for ye, death and glory! in short, i hope from my heart you will be, and i say so very often to folk--in fact, i pray at night for't.' 'o! cuss you! you needn't pray about it.' 'no, maister derriman, i won't.' 'of course my sword will do its duty. that's enough. and now be off with ye.' festus gloomily returned to his uncle's room and found that anne was just leaving. he was inclined to follow her at once, but as she gave him no opportunity for doing this he went to the window, and remained tapping his fingers against the shutter while she crossed the yard. 'well, nephy, you are not gone yet?' said the farmer, looking dubiously at festus from under one eyelid. 'you see how i am. not by any means better, you see; so i can't entertain 'ee as well as i would.' 'you can't, nunc, you can't. i don't think you are worse--if i do, dash my wig. but you'll have plenty of opportunities to make me welcome when you are better. if you are not so brisk inwardly as you was, why not try change of air? this is a dull, damp hole.' ''tis, festus; and i am thinking of moving.' 'ah, where to?' said festus, with surprise and interest. 'up into the garret in the north corner. there is no fireplace in the room; but i shan't want that, poor soul o' me.' ''tis not moving far.' ''tis not. but i have not a soul belonging to me within ten mile; and you know very well that i couldn't afford to go to lodgings that i had to pay for.' 'i know it--i know it, uncle benjy! well, don't be disturbed. i'll come and manage for you as soon as ever this boney alarm is over; but when a man's country calls he must obey, if he is a man.' 'a splendid spirit!' said uncle benjy, with much admiration on the surface of his countenance. 'i never had it. how could it have got into the boy?' 'from my mother's side, perhaps.' 'perhaps so. well, take care of yourself, nephy,' said the farmer, waving his hand impressively. 'take care! in these warlike times your spirit may carry ye into the arms of the enemy; and you are the last of the family. you should think of this, and not let your bravery carry ye away.' 'don't be disturbed, uncle; i'll control myself,' said festus, betrayed into self-complacency against his will. 'at least i'll do what i can, but nature will out sometimes. well, i'm off.' he began humming 'brighton camp,' and, promising to come again soon, retired with assurance, each yard of his retreat adding private joyousness to his uncle's form. when the bulky young man had disappeared through the porter's lodge, uncle benjy showed preternatural activity for one in his invalid state, jumping up quickly without his stick, at the same time opening and shutting his mouth quite silently like a thirsty frog, which was his way of expressing mirth. he ran upstairs as quick as an old squirrel, and went to a dormer window which commanded a view of the grounds beyond the gate, and the footpath that stretched across them to the village. 'yes, yes!' he said in a suppressed scream, dancing up and down, 'he's after her: she've hit en!' for there appeared upon the path the figure of anne garland, and, hastening on at some little distance behind her, the swaggering shape of festus. she became conscious of his approach, and moved more quickly. he moved more quickly still, and overtook her. she turned as if in answer to a call from him, and he walked on beside her, till they were out of sight. the old man then played upon an imaginary fiddle for about half a minute; and, suddenly discontinuing these signs of pleasure, went downstairs again. vii. how they talked in the pastures 'you often come this way?' said festus to anne rather before he had overtaken her. 'i come for the newspaper and other things,' she said, perplexed by a doubt whether he were there by accident or design. they moved on in silence, festus beating the grass with his switch in a masterful way. 'did you speak, mis'ess anne?' he asked. 'no,' said anne. 'ten thousand pardons. i thought you did. now don't let me drive you out of the path. i can walk among the high grass and giltycups--they will not yellow my stockings as they will yours. well, what do you think of a lot of soldiers coming to the neighbourhood in this way?' 'i think it is very lively, and a great change,' she said with demure seriousness. 'perhaps you don't like us warriors as a body?' anne smiled without replying. 'why, you are laughing!' said the yeoman, looking searchingly at her and blushing like a little fire. 'what do you see to laugh at?' 'did i laugh?' said anne, a little scared at his sudden mortification. 'why, yes; you know you did, you young sneerer,' he said like a cross baby. 'you are laughing at me--that's who you are laughing at! i should like to know what you would do without such as me if the french were to drop in upon ye any night?' 'would you help to beat them off?' said she. 'can you ask such a question? what are we for? but you don't think anything of soldiers.' o yes, she liked soldiers, she said, especially when they came home from the wars, covered with glory; though when she thought what doings had won them that glory she did not like them quite so well. the gallant and appeased yeoman said he supposed her to mean chopping off heads, blowing out brains, and that kind of business, and thought it quite right that a tender-hearted thing like her should feel a little horrified. but as for him, he should not mind such another blenheim this summer as the army had fought a hundred years ago, or whenever it was--dash his wig if he should mind it at all. 'hullo! now you are laughing again; yes, i saw you!' and the choleric festus turned his blue eyes and flushed face upon her as though he would read her through. anne strove valiantly to look calmly back; but her eyes could not face his, and they fell. 'you did laugh!' he repeated. 'it was only a tiny little one,' she murmured. 'ah--i knew you did!' thundered he. 'now what was it you laughed at?' 'i only--thought that you were--merely in the yeomanry,' she murmured slily. 'and what of that?' 'and the yeomanry only seem farmers that have lost their senses.' 'yes, yes! i knew you meant some jeering o' that sort, mistress anne. but i suppose 'tis the way of women, and i take no notice. i'll confess that some of us are no great things: but i know how to draw a sword, don't i?--say i don't just to provoke me.' 'i am sure you do,' said anne sweetly. 'if a frenchman came up to you, mr. derriman, would you take him on the hip, or on the thigh?' 'now you are flattering!' he said, his white teeth uncovering themselves in a smile. 'well, of course i should draw my sword--no, i mean my sword would be already drawn; and i should put spurs to my horse--charger, as we call it in the army; and i should ride up to him and say--no, i shouldn't say anything, of course--men never waste words in battle; i should take him with the third guard, low point, and then coming back to the second guard--' 'but that would be taking care of yourself--not hitting at him.' 'how can you say that!' he cried, the beams upon his face turning to a lurid cloud in a moment. 'how can you understand military terms who've never had a sword in your life? i shouldn't take him with the sword at all.' he went on with eager sulkiness, 'i should take him with my pistol. i should pull off my right glove, and throw back my goat-skin; then i should open my priming-pan, prime, and cast about--no, i shouldn't, that's wrong; i should draw my right pistol, and as soon as loaded, seize the weapon by the butt; then at the word "cock your pistol" i should--' 'then there is plenty of time to give such words of command in the heat of battle?' said anne innocently. 'no!' said the yeoman, his face again in flames. 'why, of course i am only telling you what _would_ be the word of command _if_--there now! you la--' 'i didn't; 'pon my word i didn't!' 'no, i don't think you did; it was my mistake. well, then i come smartly to present, looking well along the barrel--along the barrel--and fire. of course i know well enough how to engage the enemy! but i expect my old uncle has been setting you against me.' 'he has not said a word,' replied anne; 'though i have heard of you, of course.' 'what have you heard? nothing good, i dare say. it makes my blood boil within me!' 'o, nothing bad,' said she assuringly. 'just a word now and then.' 'now, come, tell me, there's a dear. i don't like to be crossed. it shall be a sacred secret between us. come, now!' anne was embarrassed, and her smile was uncomfortable. 'i shall not tell you,' she said at last. 'there it is again!' said the yeoman, throwing himself into a despair. 'i shall soon begin to believe that my name is not worth sixpence about here!' 'i tell you 'twas nothing against you,' repeated anne. 'that means it might have been for me,' said festus, in a mollified tone. 'well, though, to speak the truth, i have a good many faults, some people will praise me, i suppose. 'twas praise?' 'it was.' 'well, i am not much at farming, and i am not much in company, and i am not much at figures, but perhaps i must own, since it is forced upon me, that i can show as fine a soldier's figure on the esplanade as any man of the cavalry.' 'you can,' said anne; for though her flesh crept in mortal terror of his irascibility, she could not resist the fearful pleasure of leading him on. 'you look very well; and some say, you are--' 'what? well, they say i am good-looking. i don't make myself, so 'tis no praise. hullo! what are you looking across there for?' 'only at a bird that i saw fly out of that tree,' said anne. 'what? only at a bird, do you say?' he heaved out in a voice of thunder. 'i see your shoulders a-shaking, young madam. now don't you provoke me with that laughing! by god, it won't do!' 'then go away!' said anne, changed from mirthfulness to irritation by his rough manner. 'i don't want your company, you great bragging thing! you are so touchy there's no bearing with you. go away!' 'no, no, anne; i am wrong to speak to you so. i give you free liberty to say what you will to me. say i am not a bit of a soldier, or anything! abuse me--do now, there's a dear. i'm scum, i'm froth, i'm dirt before the besom--yes!' 'i have nothing to say, sir. stay where you are till i am out of this field.' 'well, there's such command in your looks that i ha'n't heart to go against you. you will come this way to-morrow at the same time? now, don't be uncivil.' she was too generous not to forgive him, but the short little lip murmured that she did not think it at all likely she should come that way to-morrow. 'then sunday?' he said. 'not sunday,' said she. 'then monday--tuesday--wednesday, surely?' he went on experimentally. she answered that she should probably not see him on either day, and, cutting short the argument, went through the wicket into the other field. festus paused, looking after her; and when he could no longer see her slight figure he swept away his deliberations, began singing, and turned off in the other direction. viii. anne makes a circuit of the camp when anne was crossing the last field, she saw approaching her an old woman with wrinkled cheeks, who surveyed the earth and its inhabitants through the medium of brass-rimmed spectacles. shaking her head at anne till the glasses shone like two moons, she said, 'ah, ah; i zeed ye! if i had only kept on my short ones that i use for reading the collect and gospel i shouldn't have zeed ye; but thinks i, i be going out o' doors, and i'll put on my long ones, little thinking what they'd show me. ay, i can tell folk at any distance with these--'tis a beautiful pair for out o' doors; though my short ones be best for close work, such as darning, and catching fleas, that's true.' 'what have you seen, granny seamore?' said anne. 'fie, fie, miss nancy! you know,' said granny seamore, shaking her head still. 'but he's a fine young feller, and will have all his uncle's money when 'a's gone.' anne said nothing to this, and looking ahead with a smile passed granny seamore by. festus, the subject of the remark, was at this time about three-and-twenty, a fine fellow as to feet and inches, and of a remarkably warm tone in skin and hair. symptoms of beard and whiskers had appeared upon him at a very early age, owing to his persistent use of the razor before there was any necessity for its operation. the brave boy had scraped unseen in the out-house, in the cellar, in the wood-shed, in the stable, in the unused parlour, in the cow-stalls, in the barn, and wherever he could set up his triangular bit of looking-glass without observation, or extemporize a mirror by sticking up his hat on the outside of a window-pane. the result now was that, did he neglect to use the instrument he once had trifled with, a fine rust broke out upon his countenance on the first day, a golden lichen on the second, and a fiery stubble on the third to a degree which admitted of no further postponement. his disposition divided naturally into two, the boastful and the cantankerous. when festus put on the big pot, as it is classically called, he was quite blinded ipso facto to the diverting effect of that mood and manner upon others; but when disposed to be envious or quarrelsome he was rather shrewd than otherwise, and could do some pretty strokes of satire. he was both liked and abused by the girls who knew him, and though they were pleased by his attentions, they never failed to ridicule him behind his back. in his cups (he knew those vessels, though only twenty-three) he first became noisy, then excessively friendly, and then invariably nagging. during childhood he had made himself renowned for his pleasant habit of pouncing down upon boys smaller and poorer than himself, and knocking their birds' nests out of their hands, or overturning their little carts of apples, or pouring water down their backs; but his conduct became singularly the reverse of aggressive the moment the little boys' mothers ran out to him, brandishing brooms, frying-pans, skimmers, and whatever else they could lay hands on by way of weapons. he then fled and hid behind bushes, under faggots, or in pits till they had gone away; and on one such occasion was known to creep into a badger's hole quite out of sight, maintaining that post with great firmness and resolution for two or three hours. he had brought more vulgar exclamations upon the tongues of respectable parents in his native parish than any other boy of his time. when other youngsters snowballed him he ran into a place of shelter, where he kneaded snowballs of his own, with a stone inside, and used these formidable missiles in returning their pleasantry. sometimes he got fearfully beaten by boys his own age, when he would roar most lustily, but fight on in the midst of his tears, blood, and cries. he was early in love, and had at the time of the story suffered from the ravages of that passion thirteen distinct times. he could not love lightly and gaily; his love was earnest, cross-tempered, and even savage. it was a positive agony to him to be ridiculed by the object of his affections, and such conduct drove him into a frenzy if persisted in. he was a torment to those who behaved humbly towards him, cynical with those who denied his superiority, and a very nice fellow towards those who had the courage to ill-use him. this stalwart gentleman and anne garland did not cross each other's paths again for a week. then her mother began as before about the newspaper, and, though anne did not much like the errand, she agreed to go for it on mrs. garland pressing her with unusual anxiety. why her mother was so persistent on so small a matter quite puzzled the girl; but she put on her hat and started. as she had expected, festus appeared at a stile over which she sometimes went for shortness' sake, and showed by his manner that he awaited her. when she saw this she kept straight on, as if she would not enter the park at all. 'surely this is your way?' said festus. 'i was thinking of going round by the road,' she said. 'why is that?' she paused, as if she were not inclined to say. 'i go that way when the grass is wet,' she returned at last. 'it is not wet now,' he persisted; 'the sun has been shining on it these nine hours.' the fact was that the way by the path was less open than by the road, and festus wished to walk with her uninterrupted. 'but, of course, it is nothing to me what you do.' he flung himself from the stile and walked away towards the house. anne, supposing him really indifferent, took the same way, upon which he turned his head and waited for her with a proud smile. 'i cannot go with you,' she said decisively. 'nonsense, you foolish girl! i must walk along with you down to the corner.' 'no, please, mr. derriman; we might be seen.' 'now, now--that's shyness!' he said jocosely. 'no; you know i cannot let you.' 'but i must.' 'but i do not allow it.' 'allow it or not, i will.' 'then you are unkind, and i must submit,' she said, her eyes brimming with tears. 'ho, ho; what a shame of me! my wig, i won't do any such thing for the world,' said the repentant yeoman. 'haw, haw; why, i thought your "go away" meant "come on," as it does with so many of the women i meet, especially in these clothes. who was to know you were so confoundedly serious?' as he did not go anne stood still and said nothing. 'i see you have a deal more caution and a deal less good-nature than i ever thought you had,' he continued emphatically. 'no, sir; it is not any planned manner of mine at all,' she said earnestly. 'but you will see, i am sure, that i could not go down to the hall with you without putting myself in a wrong light.' 'yes; that's it, that's it. i am only a fellow in the yeomanry cavalry--a plain soldier, i may say; and we know what women think of such: that they are a bad lot--men you mustn't speak to for fear of losing your character--chaps you avoid in the roads--chaps that come into a house like oxen, daub the stairs wi' their boots, stain the furniture wi' their drink, talk rubbish to the servants, abuse all that's holy and righteous, and are only saved from being carried off by old nick because they are wanted for boney.' 'indeed, i didn't know you were thought so bad of as that,' said she simply. 'what! don't my uncle complain to you of me? you are a favourite of that handsome, nice old gaffer's, i know.' 'never.' 'well, what do we think of our nice trumpet-major, hey?' anne closed her mouth up tight, built it up, in fact, to show that no answer was coming to that question. 'o now, come, seriously, loveday is a good fellow, and so is his father.' 'i don't know.' 'what a close little rogue you are! there is no getting anything out of you. i believe you would say "i don't know," to every mortal question, so very discreet as you are. upon my heart, there are some women who would say "i don't know," to "will ye marry me?"' the brightness upon anne's cheek and in her eyes during this remark showed that there was a fair quantity of life and warmth beneath the discretion he complained of. having spoken thus, he drew aside that she might pass, and bowed very low. anne formally inclined herself and went on. she had been at vexation point all the time that he was present, from a haunting sense that he would not have spoken to her so freely had she been a young woman with thriving male relatives to keep forward admirers in check. but she had been struck, now as at their previous meeting, with the power she possessed of working him up either to irritation or to complacency at will; and this consciousness of being able to play upon him as upon an instrument disposed her to a humorous considerateness, and made her tolerate even while she rebuffed him. when anne got to the hall the farmer, as usual, insisted upon her reading what he had been unable to get through, and held the paper tightly in his skinny hand till she had agreed. he sent her to a hard chair that she could not possibly injure to the extent of a pennyworth by sitting in it a twelvemonth, and watched her from the outer angle of his near eye while she bent over the paper. his look might have been suggested by the sight that he had witnessed from his window on the last occasion of her visit, for it partook of the nature of concern. the old man was afraid of his nephew, physically and morally, and he began to regard anne as a fellow- sufferer under the same despot. after this sly and curious gaze at her he withdrew his eye again, so that when she casually lifted her own there was nothing visible but his keen bluish profile as before. when the reading was about half-way through, the door behind them opened, and footsteps crossed the threshold. the farmer diminished perceptibly in his chair, and looked fearful, but pretended to be absorbed in the reading, and quite unconscious of an intruder. anne felt the presence of the swashing festus, and stopped her reading. 'please go on, miss anne,' he said, 'i am not going to speak a word.' he withdrew to the mantelpiece and leaned against it at his ease. 'go on, do ye, maidy anne,' said uncle benjy, keeping down his tremblings by a great effort to half their natural extent. anne's voice became much lower now that there were two listeners, and her modesty shrank somewhat from exposing to festus the appreciative modulations which an intelligent interest in the subject drew from her when unembarrassed. but she still went on that he might not suppose her to be disconcerted, though the ensuing ten minutes was one of disquietude. she knew that the bothering yeoman's eyes were travelling over her from his position behind, creeping over her shoulders, up to her head, and across her arms and hands. old benjy on his part knew the same thing, and after sundry endeavours to peep at his nephew from the corner of his eye, he could bear the situation no longer. 'do ye want to say anything to me, nephew?' he quaked. 'no, uncle, thank ye,' said festus heartily. 'i like to stay here, thinking of you and looking at your back hair.' the nervous old man writhed under this vivisection, and anne read on; till, to the relief of both, the gallant fellow grew tired of his amusement and went out of the room. anne soon finished her paragraph and rose to go, determined never to come again as long as festus haunted the precincts. her face grew warmer as she thought that he would be sure to waylay her on her journey home to-day. on this account, when she left the house, instead of going in the customary direction, she bolted round to the further side, through the bushes, along under the kitchen-garden wall, and through a door leading into a rutted cart-track, which had been a pleasant gravelled drive when the fine old hall was in its prosperity. once out of sight of the windows she ran with all her might till she had quitted the park by a route directly opposite to that towards her home. why she was so seriously bent upon doing this she could hardly tell but the instinct to run was irresistible. it was necessary now to clamber over the down to the left of the camp, and make a complete circuit round the latter--infantry, cavalry, sutlers, and all--descending to her house on the other side. this tremendous walk she performed at a rapid rate, never once turning her head, and avoiding every beaten track to keep clear of the knots of soldiers taking a walk. when she at last got down to the levels again she paused to fetch breath, and murmured, 'why did i take so much trouble? he would not, after all, have hurt me.' as she neared the mill an erect figure with a blue body and white thighs descended before her from the down towards the village, and went past the mill to a stile beyond, over which she usually returned to her house. here he lingered. on coming nearer anne discovered this person to be trumpet-major loveday; and not wishing to meet anybody just now anne passed quickly on, and entered the house by the garden door. 'my dear anne, what a time you have been gone!' said her mother. 'yes, i have been round by another road.' 'why did you do that?' anne looked thoughtful and reticent, for her reason was almost too silly a one to confess. 'well, i wanted to avoid a person who is very busy trying to meet me--that's all,' she said. her mother glanced out of the window. 'and there he is, i suppose,' she said, as john loveday, tired of looking for anne at the stile, passed the house on his way to his father's door. he could not help casting his eyes towards their window, and, seeing them, he smiled. anne's reluctance to mention festus was such that she did not correct her mother's error, and the dame went on: 'well, you are quite right, my dear. be friendly with him, but no more at present. i have heard of your other affair, and think it is a very wise choice. i am sure you have my best wishes in it, and i only hope it will come to a point.' 'what's that?' said the astonished anne. 'you and mr. festus derriman, dear. you need not mind me; i have known it for several days. old granny seamore called here saturday, and told me she saw him coming home with you across park close last week, when you went for the newspaper; so i thought i'd send you again to-day, and give you another chance.' 'then you didn't want the paper--and it was only for that!' 'he's a very fine young fellow; he looks a thorough woman's protector.' 'he may look it,' said anne. 'he has given up the freehold farm his father held at pitstock, and lives in independence on what the land brings him. and when farmer derriman dies, he'll have all the old man's, for certain. he'll be worth ten thousand pounds, if a penny, in money, besides sixteen horses, cart and hack, a fifty-cow dairy, and at least five hundred sheep.' anne turned away, and instead of informing her mother that she had been running like a doe to escape the interesting heir-presumptive alluded to, merely said 'mother, i don't like this at all.' ix. anne is kindly fetched by the trumpet-major after this, anne would on no account walk in the direction of the hall for fear of another encounter with young derriman. in the course of a few days it was told in the village that the old farmer had actually gone for a week's holiday and change of air to the royal watering-place near at hand, at the instance of his nephew festus. this was a wonderful thing to hear of uncle benjy, who had not slept outside the walls of oxwell hall for many a long year before; and anne well imagined what extraordinary pressure must have been put upon him to induce him to take such a step. she pictured his unhappiness at the bustling watering-place, and hoped no harm would come to him. she spent much of her time indoors or in the garden, hearing little of the camp movements beyond the periodical ta-ta-ta-taa of the trumpeters sounding their various ingenious calls for watch-setting, stables, feed, boot-and-saddle, parade, and so on, which made her think how clever her friend the trumpet-major must be to teach his pupils to play those pretty little tunes so well. on the third morning after uncle benjy's departure, she was disturbed as usual while dressing by the tramp of the troops down the slope to the mill-pond, and during the now familiar stamping and splashing which followed there sounded upon the glass of the window a slight smack, which might have been caused by a whip or switch. she listened more particularly, and it was repeated. as john loveday was the only dragoon likely to be aware that she slept in that particular apartment, she imagined the signal to come from him, though wondering that he should venture upon such a freak of familiarity. wrapping herself up in a red cloak, she went to the window, gently drew up a corner of the curtain, and peeped out, as she had done many times before. nobody who was not quite close beneath her window could see her face; but as it happened, somebody was close. the soldiers whose floundering anne had heard were not loveday's dragoons, but a troop of the york hussars, quite oblivious of her existence. they had passed on out of the water, and instead of them there sat festus derriman alone on his horse, and in plain clothes, the water reaching up to the animal's belly, and festus' heels elevated over the saddle to keep them out of the stream, which threatened to wash rider and horse into the deep mill-head just below. it was plainly he who had struck her lattice, for in a moment he looked up, and their eyes met. festus laughed loudly, and slapped her window again; and just at that moment the dragoons began prancing down the slope in review order. she could not but wait a minute or two to see them pass. while doing so she was suddenly led to draw back, drop the corner of the curtain, and blush privately in her room. she had not only been seen by festus derriman, but by john loveday, who, riding along with his trumpet slung up behind him, had looked over his shoulder at the phenomenon of derriman beneath anne's bedroom window and seemed quite astounded at the sight. she was quite vexed at the conjunction of incidents, and went no more to the window till the dragoons had ridden far away and she had heard festus's horse laboriously wade on to dry land. when she looked out there was nobody left but miller loveday, who usually stood in the garden at this time of the morning to say a word or two to the soldiers, of whom he already knew so many, and was in a fair way of knowing many more, from the liberality with which he handed round mugs of cheering liquor whenever parties of them walked that way. in the afternoon of this day anne walked to a christening party at a neighbour's in the adjoining parish of springham, intending to walk home again before it got dark; but there was a slight fall of rain towards evening, and she was pressed by the people of the house to stay over the night. with some hesitation she accepted their hospitality; but at ten o'clock, when they were thinking of going to bed, they were startled by a smart rap at the door, and on it being unbolted a man's form was seen in the shadows outside. 'is miss garland here?' the visitor inquired, at which anne suspended her breath. 'yes,' said anne's entertainer, warily. 'her mother is very anxious to know what's become of her. she promised to come home.' to her great relief anne recognized the voice as john loveday's, and not festus derriman's. 'yes, i did, mr. loveday,' said she, coming forward; 'but it rained, and i thought my mother would guess where i was.' loveday said with diffidence that it had not rained anything to speak of at the camp, or at the mill, so that her mother was rather alarmed. 'and she asked you to come for me?' anne inquired. this was a question which the trumpet-major had been dreading during the whole of his walk thither. 'well, she didn't exactly ask me,' he said rather lamely, but still in a manner to show that mrs. garland had indirectly signified such to be her wish. in reality mrs. garland had not addressed him at all on the subject. she had merely spoken to his father on finding that her daughter did not return, and received an assurance from the miller that the precious girl was doubtless quite safe. john heard of this inquiry, and, having a pass that evening, resolved to relieve mrs. garland's mind on his own responsibility. ever since his morning view of festus under her window he had been on thorns of anxiety, and his thrilling hope now was that she would walk back with him. he shifted his foot nervously as he made the bold request. anne felt at once that she would go. there was nobody in the world whose care she would more readily be under than the trumpet-major's in a case like the present. he was their nearest neighbour's son, and she had liked his single-minded ingenuousness from the first moment of his return home. when they had started on their walk, anne said in a practical way, to show that there was no sentiment whatever in her acceptance of his company, 'mother was much alarmed about me, perhaps?' 'yes; she was uneasy,' he said; and then was compelled by conscience to make a clean breast of it. 'i know she was uneasy, because my father said so. but i did not see her myself. the truth is, she doesn't know i am come.' anne now saw how the matter stood; but she was not offended with him. what woman could have been? they walked on in silence, the respectful trumpet-major keeping a yard off on her right as precisely as if that measure had been fixed between them. she had a great feeling of civility toward him this evening, and spoke again. 'i often hear your trumpeters blowing the calls. they do it beautifully, i think.' 'pretty fair; they might do better,' said he, as one too well-mannered to make much of an accomplishment in which he had a hand. 'and you taught them how to do it?' 'yes, i taught them.' 'it must require wonderful practice to get them into the way of beginning and finishing so exactly at one time. it is like one throat doing it all. how came you to be a trumpeter, mr. loveday?' 'well, i took to it naturally when i was a little boy,' said he, betrayed into quite a gushing state by her delightful interest. 'i used to make trumpets of paper, eldersticks, eltrot stems, and even stinging-nettle stalks, you know. then father set me to keep the birds off that little barley-ground of his, and gave me an old horn to frighten 'em with. i learnt to blow that horn so that you could hear me for miles and miles. then he bought me a clarionet, and when i could play that i borrowed a serpent, and i learned to play a tolerable bass. so when i 'listed i was picked out for training as trumpeter at once.' 'of course you were.' 'sometimes, however, i wish i had never joined the army. my father gave me a very fair education, and your father showed me how to draw horses--on a slate, i mean. yes, i ought to have done more than i have.' 'what, did you know my father?' she asked with new interest. 'o yes, for years. you were a little mite of a thing then; and you used to cry when we big boys looked at you, and made pig's eyes at you, which we did sometimes. many and many a time have i stood by your poor father while he worked. ah, you don't remember much about him; but i do!' anne remained thoughtful; and the moon broke from behind the clouds, lighting up the wet foliage with a twinkling brightness, and lending to each of the trumpet-major's buttons and spurs a little ray of its own. they had come to oxwell park gate, and he said, 'do you like going across, or round by the lane?' 'we may as well go by the nearest road,' said anne. they entered the park, following the half-obliterated drive till they came almost opposite the hall, when they entered a footpath leading on to the village. while hereabout they heard a shout, or chorus of exclamation, apparently from within the walls of the dark buildings near them. 'what was that?' said anne. 'i don't know,' said her companion. 'i'll go and see.' he went round the intervening swamp of watercress and brooklime which had once been the fish-pond, crossed by a culvert the trickling brook that still flowed that way, and advanced to the wall of the house. boisterous noises were resounding from within, and he was tempted to go round the corner, where the low windows were, and look through a chink into the room whence the sounds proceeded. it was the room in which the owner dined--traditionally called the great parlour--and within it sat about a dozen young men of the yeomanry cavalry, one of them being festus. they were drinking, laughing, singing, thumping their fists on the tables, and enjoying themselves in the very perfection of confusion. the candles, blown by the breeze from the partly opened window, had guttered into coffin handles and shrouds, and, choked by their long black wicks for want of snuffing, gave out a smoky yellow light. one of the young men might possibly have been in a maudlin state, for he had his arm round the neck of his next neighbour. another was making an incoherent speech to which nobody was listening. some of their faces were red, some were sallow; some were sleepy, some wide awake. the only one among them who appeared in his usual frame of mind was festus, whose huge, burly form rose at the head of the table, enjoying with a serene and triumphant aspect the difference between his own condition and that of his neighbours. while the trumpet-major looked, a young woman, niece of anthony cripplestraw, and one of uncle benjy's servants, was called in by one of the crew, and much against her will a fiddle was placed in her hands, from which they made her produce discordant screeches. the absence of uncle benjy had, in fact, been contrived by young derriman that he might make use of the hall on his own account. cripplestraw had been left in charge, and festus had found no difficulty in forcing from that dependent the keys of whatever he required. john loveday turned his eyes from the scene to the neighbouring moonlit path, where anne still stood waiting. then he looked into the room, then at anne again. it was an opportunity of advancing his own cause with her by exposing festus, for whom he began to entertain hostile feelings of no mean force. 'no; i can't do it,' he said. ''tis underhand. let things take their chance.' he moved away, and then perceived that anne, tired of waiting, had crossed the stream, and almost come up with him. 'what is the noise about?' she said. 'there's company in the house,' said loveday. 'company? farmer derriman is not at home,' said anne, and went on to the window whence the rays of light leaked out, the trumpet-major standing where he was. he saw her face enter the beam of candlelight, stay there for a moment, and quickly withdraw. she came back to him at once. 'let us go on,' she said. loveday imagined from her tone that she must have an interest in derriman, and said sadly, 'you blame me for going across to the window, and leading you to follow me.' 'not a bit,' said anne, seeing his mistake as to the state of her heart, and being rather angry with him for it. 'i think it was most natural, considering the noise.' silence again. 'derriman is sober as a judge,' said loveday, as they turned to go. 'it was only the others who were noisy.' 'whether he is sober or not is nothing whatever to me,' said anne. 'of course not. i know it,' said the trumpet-major, in accents expressing unhappiness at her somewhat curt tone, and some doubt of her assurance. before they had emerged from the shadow of the hall some persons were seen moving along the road. loveday was for going on just the same; but anne, from a shy feeling that it was as well not to be seen walking alone with a man who was not her lover, said-- 'mr. loveday, let us wait here a minute till they have passed.' on nearer view the group was seen to comprise a man on a piebald horse, and another man walking beside him. when they were opposite the house they halted, and the rider dismounted, whereupon a dispute between him and the other man ensued, apparently on a question of money. ''tis old mr. derriman come home!' said anne. 'he has hired that horse from the bathing-machine to bring him. only fancy!' before they had gone many steps further the farmer and his companion had ended their dispute, and the latter mounted the horse and cantered away, uncle benjy coming on to the house at a nimble pace. as soon as he observed loveday and anne, he fell into a feebler gait; when they came up he recognized anne. 'and you have torn yourself away from king george's esplanade so soon, farmer derriman?' said she. 'yes, faith! i couldn't bide at such a ruination place,' said the farmer. 'your hand in your pocket every minute of the day. 'tis a shilling for this, half-a-crown for that; if you only eat one egg, or even a poor windfall of an apple, you've got to pay; and a bunch o' radishes is a halfpenny, and a quart o' cider a good tuppence three-farthings at lowest reckoning. nothing without paying! i couldn't even get a ride homeward upon that screw without the man wanting a shilling for it, when my weight didn't take a penny out of the beast. i've saved a penn'orth or so of shoeleather to be sure; but the saddle was so rough wi' patches that 'a took twopence out of the seat of my best breeches. king george hev' ruined the town for other folks. more than that, my nephew promised to come there to-morrow to see me, and if i had stayed i must have treated en. hey--what's that?' it was a shout from within the walls of the building, and loveday said-- 'your nephew is here, and has company.' 'my nephew _here_?' gasped the old man. 'good folks, will you come up to the door with me? i mean--hee--hee--just for company! dear me, i thought my house was as quiet as a church?' they went back to the window, and the farmer looked in, his mouth falling apart to a greater width at the corners than in the middle, and his fingers assuming a state of radiation. ''tis my best silver tankards they've got, that i've never used! o! 'tis my strong beer! 'tis eight candles guttering away, when i've used nothing but twenties myself for the last half-year!' 'you didn't know he was here, then?' said loveday. 'o no!' said the farmer, shaking his head half-way. 'nothing's known to poor i! there's my best rummers jingling as careless as if 'twas tin cups; and my table scratched, and my chairs wrenched out of joint. see how they tilt 'em on the two back legs--and that's ruin to a chair! ah! when i be gone he won't find another old man to make such work with, and provide goods for his breaking, and house-room and drink for his tear- brass set!' 'comrades and fellow-soldiers,' said festus to the hot farmers and yeomen he entertained within, 'as we have vowed to brave danger and death together, so we'll share the couch of peace. you shall sleep here to- night, for it is getting late. my scram blue-vinnied gallicrow of an uncle takes care that there shan't be much comfort in the house, but you can curl up on the furniture if beds run short. as for my sleep, it won't be much. i'm melancholy! a woman has, i may say, got my heart in her pocket, and i have hers in mine. she's not much--to other folk, i mean--but she is to me. the little thing came in my way, and conquered me. i fancy that simple girl! i ought to have looked higher--i know it; what of that? 'tis a fate that may happen to the greatest men.' 'whash her name?' said one of the warriors, whose head occasionally drooped upon his epaulettes, and whose eyes fell together in the casual manner characteristic of the tired soldier. (it was really farmer stubb, of duddle hole.) 'her name? well, 'tis spelt, a, n--but, by gad, i won't give ye her name here in company. she don't live a hundred miles off, however, and she wears the prettiest cap-ribbons you ever saw. well, well, 'tis weakness! she has little, and i have much; but i do adore that girl, in spite of myself!' 'let's go on,' said anne. 'prithee stand by an old man till he's got into his house!' implored uncle benjy. 'i only ask ye to bide within call. stand back under the trees, and i'll do my poor best to give no trouble.' 'i'll stand by you for half-an-hour, sir,' said loveday. 'after that i must bolt to camp.' 'very well; bide back there under the trees,' said uncle benjy. 'i don't want to spite 'em?' 'you'll wait a few minutes, just to see if he gets in?' said the trumpet- major to anne as they retired from the old man. 'i want to get home,' said anne anxiously. when they had quite receded behind the tree-trunks and he stood alone, uncle benjy, to their surprise, set up a loud shout, altogether beyond the imagined power of his lungs. 'man a-lost! man a-lost!' he cried, repeating the exclamation several times; and then ran and hid himself behind a corner of the building. soon the door opened, and festus and his guests came tumbling out upon the green. ''tis our duty to help folks in distress,' said festus. 'man a-lost, where are you?' ''twas across there,' said one of his friends. 'no! 'twas here,' said another. meanwhile uncle benjy, coming from his hiding-place, had scampered with the quickness of a boy up to the door they had quitted, and slipped in. in a moment the door flew together, and anne heard him bolting and barring it inside. the revellers, however, did not notice this, and came on towards the spot where the trumpet-major and anne were standing. 'here's succour at hand, friends,' said festus. 'we are all king's men; do not fear us.' 'thank you,' said loveday; 'so are we.' he explained in two words that they were not the distressed traveller who had cried out, and turned to go on. ''tis she! my life, 'tis she said festus, now first recognizing anne. 'fair anne, i will not part from you till i see you safe at your own dear door.' 'she's in my hands,' said loveday civilly, though not without firmness, 'so it is not required, thank you.' 'man, had i but my sword--' 'come,' said loveday, 'i don't want to quarrel. let's put it to her. whichever of us she likes best, he shall take her home. miss anne, which?' anne would much rather have gone home alone, but seeing the remainder of the yeomanry party staggering up she thought it best to secure a protector of some kind. how to choose one without offending the other and provoking a quarrel was the difficulty. 'you must both walk home with me,' she adroitly said, 'one on one side, and one on the other. and if you are not quite civil to one another all the time, i'll never speak to either of you again.' they agreed to the terms, and the other yeomen arriving at this time said they would go also as rearguard. 'very well,' said anne. 'now go and get your hats, and don't be long.' 'ah, yes; our hats,' said the yeomanry, whose heads were so hot that they had forgotten their nakedness till then. 'you'll wait till we've got 'em--we won't be a moment,' said festus eagerly. anne and loveday said yes, and festus ran back to the house, followed by all his band. 'now let's run and leave 'em,' said anne, when they were out of hearing. 'but we've promised to wait!' said the trumpet-major in surprise. 'promised to wait!' said anne indignantly. 'as if one ought to keep such a promise to drunken men as that. you can do as you like, i shall go.' 'it is hardly fair to leave the chaps,' said loveday reluctantly, and looking back at them. but she heard no more, and flitting off under the trees, was soon lost to his sight. festus and the rest had by this time reached uncle benjy's door, which they were discomfited and astonished to find closed. they began to knock, and then to kick at the venerable timber, till the old man's head, crowned with a tasselled nightcap, appeared at an upper window, followed by his shoulders, with apparently nothing on but his shirt, though it was in truth a sheet thrown over his coat. 'fie, fie upon ye all for making such a hullaballoo at a weak old man's door,' he said, yawning. 'what's in ye to rouse honest folks at this time o' night?' 'hang me--why--it's uncle benjy! haw--haw--haw?' said festus. 'nunc, why how the devil's this? 'tis i--festus--wanting to come in.' 'o no, no, my clever man, whoever you be!' said uncle benjy in a tone of incredulous integrity. 'my nephew, dear boy, is miles away at quarters, and sound asleep by this time, as becomes a good soldier. that story won't do to-night, my man, not at all.' 'upon my soul 'tis i,' said festus. 'not to-night, my man; not to-night! anthony, bring my blunderbuss,' said the farmer, turning and addressing nobody inside the room. 'let's break in the window-shutters,' said one of the others. 'my wig, and we will!' said festus. 'what a trick of the old man!' 'get some big stones,' said the yeomen, searching under the wall. 'no; forbear, forbear,' said festus, beginning to be frightened at the spirit he had raised. 'i forget; we should drive him into fits, for he's subject to 'em, and then perhaps 'twould be manslaughter. comrades, we must march! no, we'll lie in the barn. i'll see into this, take my word for 't. our honour is at stake. now let's back to see my beauty home.' 'we can't, as we hav'n't got our hats,' said one of his fellow-troopers--in domestic life jacob noakes, of muckleford farm. 'no more we can,' said festus, in a melancholy tone. 'but i must go to her and tell her the reason. she pulls me in spite of all.' 'she's gone. i saw her flee across park while we were knocking at the door,' said another of the yeomanry. 'gone!' said festus, grinding his teeth and putting himself into a rigid shape. 'then 'tis my enemy--he has tempted her away with him! but i am a rich man, and he's poor, and rides the king's horse while i ride my own. could i but find that fellow, that regular, that common man, i would--' 'yes?' said the trumpet-major, coming up behind him. 'i,'--said festus, starting round,--'i would seize him by the hand and say, "guard her; if you are my friend, guard her from all harm!"' 'a good speech. and i will, too,' said loveday heartily. 'and now for shelter,' said festus to his companions. they then unceremoniously left loveday, without wishing him good-night, and proceeded towards the barn. he crossed the park and ascended the down to the camp, grieved that he had given anne cause of complaint, and fancying that she held him of slight account beside his wealthier rival. x. the match-making virtues of a double garden anne was so flurried by the military incidents attending her return home that she was almost afraid to venture alone outside her mother's premises. moreover, the numerous soldiers, regular and otherwise, that haunted overcombe and its neighbourhood, were getting better acquainted with the villagers, and the result was that they were always standing at garden gates, walking in the orchards, or sitting gossiping just within cottage doors, with the bowls of their tobacco-pipes thrust outside for politeness' sake, that they might not defile the air of the household. being gentlemen of a gallant and most affectionate nature, they naturally turned their heads and smiled if a pretty girl passed by, which was rather disconcerting to the latter if she were unused to society. every belle in the village soon had a lover, and when the belles were all allotted those who scarcely deserved that title had their turn, many of the soldiers being not at all particular about half-an-inch of nose more or less, a trifling deficiency of teeth, or a larger crop of freckles than is customary in the saxon race. thus, with one and another, courtship began to be practised in overcombe on rather a large scale, and the dispossessed young men who had been born in the place were left to take their walks alone, where, instead of studying the works of nature, they meditated gross outrages on the brave men who had been so good as to visit their village. anne watched these romantic proceedings from her window with much interest, and when she saw how triumphantly other handsome girls of the neighbourhood walked by on the gorgeous arms of lieutenant knockheelmann, cornet flitzenhart, and captain klaspenkissen, of the thrilling york hussars, who swore the most picturesque foreign oaths, and had a wonderful sort of estate or property called the vaterland in their country across the sea, she was filled with a sense of her own loneliness. it made her think of things which she tried to forget, and to look into a little drawer at something soft and brown that lay in a curl there, wrapped in paper. at last she could bear it no longer, and went downstairs. 'where are you going?' said mrs. garland. 'to see the folks, because i am so gloomy!' 'certainly not at present, anne.' 'why not, mother?' said anne, blushing with an indefinite sense of being very wicked. 'because you must not. i have been going to tell you several times not to go into the street at this time of day. why not walk in the morning? there's young mr. derriman would be glad to--' 'don't mention him, mother, don't!' 'well then, dear, walk in the garden.' so poor anne, who really had not the slightest wish to throw her heart away upon a soldier, but merely wanted to displace old thoughts by new, turned into the inner garden from day to day, and passed a good many hours there, the pleasant birds singing to her, and the delightful butterflies alighting on her hat, and the horrid ants running up her stockings. this garden was undivided from loveday's, the two having originally been the single garden of the whole house. it was a quaint old place, enclosed by a thorn hedge so shapely and dense from incessant clipping that the mill-boy could walk along the top without sinking in--a feat which he often performed as a means of filling out his day's work. the soil within was of that intense fat blackness which is only seen after a century of constant cultivation. the paths were grassed over, so that people came and went upon them without being heard. the grass harboured slugs, and on this account the miller was going to replace it by gravel as soon as he had time; but as he had said this for thirty years without doing it, the grass and the slugs seemed likely to remain. the miller's man attended to mrs. garland's piece of the garden as well as to the larger portion, digging, planting, and weeding indifferently in both, the miller observing with reason that it was not worth while for a helpless widow lady to hire a man for her little plot when his man, working alongside, could tend it without much addition to his labour. the two households were on this account even more closely united in the garden than within the mill. out there they were almost one family, and they talked from plot to plot with a zest and animation which mrs. garland could never have anticipated when she first removed thither after her husband's death. the lower half of the garden, farthest from the road, was the most snug and sheltered part of this snug and sheltered enclosure, and it was well watered as the land of lot. three small brooks, about a yard wide, ran with a tinkling sound from side to side between the plots, crossing the path under wood slabs laid as bridges, and passing out of the garden through little tunnels in the hedge. the brooks were so far overhung at their brinks by grass and garden produce that, had it not been for their perpetual babbling, few would have noticed that they were there. this was where anne liked best to linger when her excursions became restricted to her own premises; and in a spot of the garden not far removed the trumpet-major loved to linger also. having by virtue of his office no stable duty to perform, he came down from the camp to the mill almost every day; and anne, finding that he adroitly walked and sat in his father's portion of the garden whenever she did so in the other half, could not help smiling and speaking to him. so his epaulettes and blue jacket, and anne's yellow gipsy hat, were often seen in different parts of the garden at the same time; but he never intruded into her part of the enclosure, nor did she into loveday's. she always spoke to him when she saw him there, and he replied in deep, firm accents across the gooseberry bushes, or through the tall rows of flowering peas, as the case might be. he thus gave her accounts at fifteen paces of his experiences in camp, in quarters, in flanders, and elsewhere; of the difference between line and column, of forced marches, billeting, and such-like, together with his hopes of promotion. anne listened at first indifferently; but knowing no one else so good-natured and experienced, she grew interested in him as in a brother. by degrees his gold lace, buckles, and spurs lost all their strangeness and were as familiar to her as her own clothes. at last mrs. garland noticed this growing friendship, and began to despair of her motherly scheme of uniting anne to the moneyed festus. why she could not take prompt steps to check interference with her plans arose partly from her nature, which was the reverse of managing, and partly from a new emotional circumstance with which she found it difficult to reckon. the near neighbourhood that had produced the friendship of anne for john loveday was slowly effecting a warmer liking between her mother and his father. thus the month of july passed. the troop horses came with the regularity of clockwork twice a day down to drink under her window, and, as the weather grew hotter, kicked up their heels and shook their heads furiously under the maddening sting of the dun-fly. the green leaves in the garden became of a darker dye, the gooseberries ripened, and the three brooks were reduced to half their winter volume. at length the earnest trumpet-major obtained mrs. garland's consent to take her and her daughter to the camp, which they had not yet viewed from any closer point than their own windows. so one afternoon they went, the miller being one of the party. the villagers were by this time driving a roaring trade with the soldiers, who purchased of them every description of garden produce, milk, butter, and eggs at liberal prices. the figures of these rural sutlers could be seen creeping up the slopes, laden like bees, to a spot in the rear of the camp, where there was a kind of market- place on the greensward. mrs. garland, anne, and the miller were conducted from one place to another, and on to the quarter where the soldiers' wives lived who had not been able to get lodgings in the cottages near. the most sheltered place had been chosen for them, and snug huts had been built for their use by their husbands, of clods, hurdles, a little thatch, or whatever they could lay hands on. the trumpet-major conducted his friends thence to the large barn which had been appropriated as a hospital, and to the cottage with its windows bricked up, that was used as the magazine; then they inspected the lines of shining dark horses (each representing the then high figure of two-and-twenty guineas purchase money), standing patiently at the ropes which stretched from one picket-post to another, a bank being thrown up in front of them as a protection at night. they passed on to the tents of the german legion, a well-grown and rather dandy set of men, with a poetical look about their faces which rendered them interesting to feminine eyes. hanoverians, saxons, prussians, swedes, hungarians, and other foreigners were numbered in their ranks. they were cleaning arms, which they leant carefully against a rail when the work was complete. on their return they passed the mess-house, a temporary wooden building with a brick chimney. as anne and her companions went by, a group of three or four of the hussars were standing at the door talking to a dashing young man, who was expatiating on the qualities of a horse that one was inclined to buy. anne recognized festus derriman in the seller, and cripplestraw was trotting the animal up and down. as soon as she caught the yeoman's eye he came forward, making some friendly remark to the miller, and then turning to miss garland, who kept her eyes steadily fixed on the distant landscape till he got so near that it was impossible to do so longer. festus looked from anne to the trumpet-major, and from the trumpet-major back to anne, with a dark expression of face, as if he suspected that there might be a tender understanding between them. 'are you offended with me?' he said to her in a low voice of repressed resentment. 'no,' said anne. 'when are you coming to the hall again?' 'never, perhaps.' 'nonsense, anne,' said mrs. garland, who had come near, and smiled pleasantly on festus. 'you can go at any time, as usual.' 'let her come with me now, mrs. garland; i should be pleased to walk along with her. my man can lead home the horse.' 'thank you, but i shall not come,' said miss anne coldly. the widow looked unhappily in her daughter's face, distressed between her desire that anne should encourage festus, and her wish to consult anne's own feelings. 'leave her alone, leave her alone,' said festus, his gaze blackening. 'now i think of it i am glad she can't come with me, for i am engaged;' and he stalked away. anne moved on with her mother, young loveday silently following, and they began to descend the hill. 'well, where's mr. loveday?' asked mrs. garland. 'father's behind,' said john. mrs. garland looked behind her solicitously; and the miller, who had been waiting for the event, beckoned to her. 'i'll overtake you in a minute,' she said to the younger pair, and went back, her colour, for some unaccountable reason, rising as she did so. the miller and she then came on slowly together, conversing in very low tones, and when they got to the bottom they stood still. loveday and anne waited for them, saying but little to each other, for the rencounter with festus had damped the spirits of both. at last the widow's private talk with miller loveday came to an end, and she hastened onward, the miller going in another direction to meet a man on business. when she reached the trumpet-major and anne she was looking very bright and rather flurried, and seemed sorry when loveday said that he must leave them and return to the camp. they parted in their usual friendly manner, and anne and her mother were left to walk the few remaining yards alone. 'there, i've settled it,' said mrs. garland. 'anne, what are you thinking about? i have settled in my mind that it is all right.' 'what's all right?' said anne. 'that you do not care for derriman, and mean to encourage john loveday. what's all the world so long as folks are happy! child, don't take any notice of what i have said about festus, and don't meet him any more.' 'what a weathercock you are, mother! why should you say that just now?' 'it is easy to call me a weathercock,' said the matron, putting on the look of a good woman; 'but i have reasoned it out, and at last, thank god, i have got over my ambition. the lovedays are our true and only friends, and mr. festus derriman, with all his money, is nothing to us at all.' 'but,' said anne, 'what has made you change all of a sudden from what you have said before?' 'my feelings and my reason, which i am thankful for!' anne knew that her mother's sentiments were naturally so versatile that they could not be depended on for two days together; but it did not occur to her for the moment that a change had been helped on in the present case by a romantic talk between mrs. garland and the miller. but mrs. garland could not keep the secret long. she chatted gaily as she walked, and before they had entered the house she said, 'what do you think mr loveday has been saying to me, dear anne?' anne did not know at all. 'why, he has asked me to marry him.' xi. our people are affected by the presence of royalty to explain the miller's sudden proposal it is only necessary to go back to that moment when anne, festus, and mrs. garland were talking together on the down. john loveday had fallen behind so as not to interfere with a meeting in which he was decidedly superfluous; and his father, who guessed the trumpet-major's secret, watched his face as he stood. john's face was sad, and his eyes followed mrs. garland's encouraging manner to festus in a way which plainly said that every parting of her lips was tribulation to him. the miller loved his son as much as any miller or private gentleman could do, and he was pained to see john's gloom at such a trivial circumstance. so what did he resolve but to help john there and then by precipitating a matter which, had he himself been the only person concerned, he would have delayed for another six months. he had long liked the society of his impulsive, tractable neighbour, mrs. garland; had mentally taken her up and pondered her in connexion with the question whether it would not be for the happiness of both if she were to share his home, even though she was a little his superior in antecedents and knowledge. in fact he loved her; not tragically, but to a very creditable extent for his years; that is, next to his sons, bob and john, though he knew very well of that ploughed-ground appearance near the corners of her once handsome eyes, and that the little depression in her right cheek was not the lingering dimple it was poetically assumed to be, but a result of the abstraction of some worn-out nether millstones within the cheek by rootle, the budmouth man, who lived by such practices on the heads of the elderly. but what of that, when he had lost two to each one of hers, and exceeded her in age by some eight years! to do john a service, then, he quickened his designs, and put the question to her while they were standing under the eyes of the younger pair. mrs. garland, though she had been interested in the miller for a long time, and had for a moment now and then thought on this question as far as, 'suppose he should, 'if he were to,' and so on, had never thought much further; and she was really taken by surprise when the question came. she answered without affectation that she would think over the proposal; and thus they parted. her mother's infirmity of purpose set anne thinking, and she was suddenly filled with a conviction that in such a case she ought to have some purpose herself. mrs. garland's complacency at the miller's offer had, in truth, amazed her. while her mother had held up her head, and recommended festus, it had seemed a very pretty thing to rebel; but the pressure being removed an awful sense of her own responsibility took possession of her mind. as there was no longer anybody to be wise or ambitious for her, surely she should be wise and ambitious for herself, discountenance her mother's attachment, and encourage festus in his addresses, for her own and her mother's good. there had been a time when a loveday thrilled her own heart; but that was long ago, before she had thought of position or differences. to wake into cold daylight like this, when and because her mother had gone into the land of romance, was dreadful and new to her, and like an increase of years without living them. but it was easier to think that she ought to marry the yeoman than to take steps for doing it; and she went on living just as before, only with a little more thoughtfulness in her eyes. two days after the visit to the camp, when she was again in the garden, soldier loveday said to her, at a distance of five rows of beans and a parsley-bed-- 'you have heard the news, miss garland?' 'no,' said anne, without looking up from a book she was reading. 'the king is coming to-morrow.' 'the king?' she looked up then. 'yes; to gloucester lodge; and he will pass this way. he can't arrive till long past the middle of the night, if what they say is true, that he is timed to change horses at woodyates inn--between mid and south wessex--at twelve o'clock,' continued loveday, encouraged by her interest to cut off the parsley-bed from the distance between them. miller loveday came round the corner of the house. 'have ye heard about the king coming, miss maidy anne?' he said. anne said that she had just heard of it; and the trumpet-major, who hardly welcomed his father at such a moment, explained what he knew of the matter. 'and you will go with your regiment to meet 'en, i suppose?' said old loveday. young loveday said that the men of the german legion were to perform that duty. and turning half from his father, and half towards anne, he added, in a tentative tone, that he thought he might get leave for the night, if anybody would like to be taken to the top of the ridgeway over which the royal party must pass. anne, knowing by this time of the budding hope in the gallant dragoon's mind, and not wishing to encourage it, said, 'i don't want to go.' the miller looked disappointed as well as john. 'your mother might like to?' 'yes, i am going indoors, and i'll ask her if you wish me to,' said she. she went indoors and rather coldly told her mother of the proposal. mrs. garland, though she had determined not to answer the miller's question on matrimony just yet, was quite ready for this jaunt, and in spite of anne she sailed off at once to the garden to hear more about it. when she re- entered, she said-- 'anne, i have not seen the king or the king's horses for these many years; and i am going.' 'ah, it is well to be you, mother,' said anne, in an elderly tone. 'then you won't come with us?' said mrs. garland, rather rebuffed. 'i have very different things to think of,' said her daughter with virtuous emphasis, 'than going to see sights at that time of night.' mrs. garland was sorry, but resolved to adhere to the arrangement. the night came on; and it having gone abroad that the king would pass by the road, many of the villagers went out to see the procession. when the two lovedays and mrs. garland were gone, anne bolted the door for security, and sat down to think again on her grave responsibilities in the choice of a husband, now that her natural guardian could no longer be trusted. a knock came to the door. anne's instinct was at once to be silent, that the comer might think the family had retired. the knocking person, however, was not to be easily persuaded. he had in fact seen rays of light over the top of the shutter, and, unable to get an answer, went on to the door of the mill, which was still going, the miller sometimes grinding all night when busy. the grinder accompanied the stranger to mrs. garland's door. 'the daughter is certainly at home, sir,' said the grinder. 'i'll go round to t'other side, and see if she's there, master derriman.' 'i want to take her out to see the king,' said festus. anne had started at the sound of the voice. no opportunity could have been better for carrying out her new convictions on the disposal of her hand. but in her mortal dislike of festus, anne forgot her principles, and her idea of keeping herself above the lovedays. tossing on her hat and blowing out the candle, she slipped out at the back door, and hastily followed in the direction that her mother and the rest had taken. she overtook them as they were beginning to climb the hill. 'what! you have altered your mind after all?' said the widow. 'how came you to do that, my dear?' 'i thought i might as well come,' said anne. 'to be sure you did,' said the miller heartily. 'a good deal better than biding at home there.' john said nothing, though she could almost see through the gloom how glad he was that she had altered her mind. when they reached the ridge over which the highway stretched they found many of their neighbours who had got there before them idling on the grass border between the roadway and the hedge, enjoying a sort of midnight picnic, which it was easy to do, the air being still and dry. some carriages were also standing near, though most people of the district who possessed four wheels, or even two, had driven into the town to await the king there. from this height could be seen in the distance the position of the watering-place, an additional number of lanterns, lamps, and candles having been lighted to- night by the loyal burghers to grace the royal entry, if it should occur before dawn. mrs. garland touched anne's elbow several times as they walked, and the young woman at last understood that this was meant as a hint to her to take the trumpet-major's arm, which its owner was rather suggesting than offering to her. anne wondered what infatuation was possessing her mother, declined to take the arm, and contrived to get in front with the miller, who mostly kept in the van to guide the others' footsteps. the trumpet-major was left with mrs. garland, and anne's encouraging pursuit of them induced him to say a few words to the former. 'by your leave, ma'am, i'll speak to you on something that concerns my mind very much indeed?' 'certainly.' 'it is my wish to be allowed to pay my addresses to your daughter.' 'i thought you meant that,' said mrs. garland simply. 'and you'll not object?' 'i shall leave it to her. i don't think she will agree, even if i do.' the soldier sighed, and seemed helpless. 'well, i can but ask her,' he said. the spot on which they had finally chosen to wait for the king was by a field gate, whence the white road could be seen for a long distance northwards by day, and some little distance now. they lingered and lingered, but no king came to break the silence of that beautiful summer night. as half-hour after half-hour glided by, and nobody came, anne began to get weary; she knew why her mother did not propose to go back, and regretted the reason. she would have proposed it herself, but that mrs. garland seemed so cheerful, and as wide awake as at noonday, so that it was almost a cruelty to disturb her. the trumpet-major at last made up his mind, and tried to draw anne into a private conversation. the feeling which a week ago had been a vague and piquant aspiration, was to-day altogether too lively for the reasoning of this warm-hearted soldier to regulate. so he persevered in his intention to catch her alone, and at last, in spite of her manoeuvres to the contrary, he succeeded. the miller and mrs. garland had walked about fifty yards further on, and anne and himself were left standing by the gate. but the gallant musician's soul was so much disturbed by tender vibrations and by the sense of his presumption that he could not begin; and it may be questioned if he would ever have broached the subject at all, had not a distant church clock opportunely assisted him by striking the hour of three. the trumpet-major heaved a breath of relief. 'that clock strikes in g sharp,' he said. 'indeed--g sharp?' said anne civilly. 'yes. 'tis a fine-toned bell. i used to notice that note when i was a boy.' 'did you--the very same?' 'yes; and since then i had a wager about that bell with the bandmaster of the north wessex militia. he said the note was g; i said it wasn't. when we found it g sharp we didn't know how to settle it.' 'it is not a deep note for a clock.' 'o no! the finest tenor bell about here is the bell of peter's, casterbridge--in e flat. tum-m-m-m--that's the note--tum-m-m-m.' the trumpet-major sounded from far down his throat what he considered to be e flat, with a parenthetic sense of luxury unquenchable even by his present distraction. 'shall we go on to where my mother is?' said anne, less impressed by the beauty of the note than the trumpet-major himself was. 'in one minute,' he said tremulously. 'talking of music--i fear you don't think the rank of a trumpet-major much to compare with your own?' 'i do. i think a trumpet-major a very respectable man.' 'i am glad to hear you say that. it is given out by the king's command that trumpet-majors are to be considered respectable.' 'indeed! then i am, by chance, more loyal than i thought for.' 'i get a good deal a year extra to the trumpeters, because of my position.' 'that's very nice.' 'and i am not supposed ever to drink with the trumpeters who serve beneath me.' 'naturally.' 'and, by the orders of the war office, i am to exert over them (that's the government word) exert over them full authority; and if any one behaves towards me with the least impropriety, or neglects my orders, he is to be confined and reported.' 'it is really a dignified post,' she said, with, however, a reserve of enthusiasm which was not altogether encouraging. 'and of course some day i shall,' stammered the dragoon--'shall be in rather a better position than i am at present.' 'i am glad to hear it, mr. loveday.' 'and in short, mistress anne,' continued john loveday bravely and desperately, 'may i pay court to you in the hope that--no, no, don't go away!--you haven't heard yet--that you may make me the happiest of men; not yet, but when peace is proclaimed and all is smooth and easy again? i can't put it any better, though there's more to be explained.' 'this is most awkward,' said anne, evidently with pain. 'i cannot possibly agree; believe me, mr. loveday, i cannot.' 'but there's more than this. you would be surprised to see what snug rooms the married trumpet- and sergeant-majors have in quarters.' 'barracks are not all; consider camp and war.' 'that brings me to my strong point!' exclaimed the soldier hopefully. 'my father is better off than most non-commissioned officers' fathers; and there's always a home for you at his house in any emergency. i can tell you privately that he has enough to keep us both, and if you wouldn't hear of barracks, well, peace once established, i'd live at home as a miller and farmer--next door to your own mother.' 'my mother would be sure to object,' expostulated anne. 'no; she leaves it all to you.' 'what! you have asked her?' said anne, with surprise. 'yes. i thought it would not be honourable to act otherwise.' 'that's very good of you,' said anne, her face warming with a generous sense of his straightforwardness. 'but my mother is so entirely ignorant of a soldier's life, and the life of a soldier's wife--she is so simple in all such matters, that i cannot listen to you any more readily for what she may say.' 'then it is all over for me,' said the poor trumpet-major, wiping his face and putting away his handkerchief with an air of finality. anne was silent. any woman who has ever tried will know without explanation what an unpalatable task it is to dismiss, even when she does not love him, a man who has all the natural and moral qualities she would desire, and only fails in the social. would-be lovers are not so numerous, even with the best women, that the sacrifice of one can be felt as other than a good thing wasted, in a world where there are few good things. 'you are not angry, miss garland?' said he, finding that she did not speak. 'o no. don't let us say anything more about this now.' and she moved on. when she drew near to the miller and her mother she perceived that they were engaged in a conversation of that peculiar kind which is all the more full and communicative from the fact of definitive words being few. in short, here the game was succeeding which with herself had failed. it was pretty clear from the symptoms, marks, tokens, telegraphs, and general byplay between widower and widow, that miller loveday must have again said to mrs. garland some such thing as he had said before, with what result this time she did not know. as the situation was delicate, anne halted awhile apart from them. the trumpet-major, quite ignorant of how his cause was entered into by the white-coated man in the distance (for his father had not yet told him of his designs upon mrs. garland), did not advance, but stood still by the gate, as though he were attending a princess, waiting till he should be called up. thus they lingered, and the day began to break. mrs. garland and the miller took no heed of the time, and what it was bringing to earth and sky, so occupied were they with themselves; but anne in her place and the trumpet-major in his, each in private thought of no bright kind, watched the gradual glory of the east through all its tones and changes. the world of birds and insects got lively, the blue and the yellow and the gold of loveday's uniform again became distinct; the sun bored its way upward, the fields, the trees, and the distant landscape kindled to flame, and the trumpet-major, backed by a lilac shadow as tall as a steeple, blazed in the rays like a very god of war. it was half-past three o'clock. a short time after, a rattle of horses and wheels reached their ears from the quarter in which they gazed, and there appeared upon the white line of road a moving mass, which presently ascended the hill and drew near. then there arose a huzza from the few knots of watchers gathered there, and they cried, 'long live king jarge!' the cortege passed abreast. it consisted of three travelling-carriages, escorted by a detachment of the german legion. anne was told to look in the first carriage--a post-chariot drawn by four horses--for the king and queen, and was rewarded by seeing a profile reminding her of the current coin of the realm; but as the party had been travelling all night, and the spectators here gathered were few, none of the royal family looked out of the carriage windows. it was said that the two elder princesses were in the same carriage, but they remained invisible. the next vehicle, a coach and four, contained more princesses, and the third some of their attendants. 'thank god, i have seen my king!' said mrs. garland, when they had all gone by. nobody else expressed any thankfulness, for most of them had expected a more pompous procession than the bucolic tastes of the king cared to indulge in; and one old man said grimly that that sight of dusty old leather coaches was not worth waiting for. anne looked hither and thither in the bright rays of the day, each of her eyes having a little sun in it, which gave her glance a peculiar golden fire, and kindled the brown curls grouped over her forehead to a yellow brilliancy, and made single hairs, blown astray by the night, look like lacquered wires. she was wondering if festus were anywhere near, but she could not see him. before they left the ridge they turned their attention towards the royal watering-place, which was visible at this place only as a portion of the sea-shore, from which the night-mist was rolling slowly back. the sea beyond was still wrapped in summer fog, the ships in the roads showing through it as black spiders suspended in the air. while they looked and walked a white jet of smoke burst from a spot which the miller knew to be the battery in front of the king's residence, and then the report of guns reached their ears. this announcement was answered by a salute from the castle of the adjoining isle, and the ships in the neighbouring anchorage. all the bells in the town began ringing. the king and his family had arrived. xii. how everybody great and small climbed to the top of the downs as the days went on, echoes of the life and bustle of the town reached the ears of the quiet people in overcombe hollow--exciting and moving those unimportant natives as a ground-swell moves the weeds in a cave. travelling-carriages of all kinds and colours climbed and descended the road that led towards the seaside borough. some contained those personages of the king's suite who had not kept pace with him in his journey from windsor; others were the coaches of aristocracy, big and little, whom news of the king's arrival drew thither for their own pleasure: so that the highway, as seen from the hills about overcombe, appeared like an ant-walk--a constant succession of dark spots creeping along its surface at nearly uniform rates of progress, and all in one direction. the traffic and intelligence between camp and town passed in a measure over the villagers' heads. it being summer time the miller was much occupied with business, and the trumpet-major was too constantly engaged in marching between the camp and gloucester lodge with the rest of the dragoons to bring his friends any news for some days. at last he sent a message that there was to be a review on the downs by the king, and that it was fixed for the day following. this information soon spread through the village and country round, and next morning the whole population of overcombe--except two or three very old men and women, a few babies and their nurses, a cripple, and corporal tullidge--ascended the slope with the crowds from afar, and awaited the events of the day. the miller wore his best coat on this occasion, which meant a good deal. an overcombe man in those days would have a best coat, and keep it as a best coat half his life. the miller's had seen five and twenty summers chiefly through the chinks of a clothes-box, and was not at all shabby as yet, though getting singular. but that could not be helped; common coats and best coats were distinct species, and never interchangeable. living so near the scene of the review he walked up the hill, accompanied by mrs. garland and anne as usual. it was a clear day, with little wind stirring, and the view from the downs, one of the most extensive in the county, was unclouded. the eye of any observer who cared for such things swept over the wave-washed town, and the bay beyond, and the isle, with its pebble bank, lying on the sea to the left of these, like a great crouching animal tethered to the mainland. on the extreme east of the marine horizon, st. aldhelm's head closed the scene, the sea to the southward of that point glaring like a mirror under the sun. inland could be seen badbury rings, where a beacon had been recently erected; and nearer, rainbarrow, on egdon heath, where another stood: farther to the left bulbarrow, where there was yet another. not far from this came nettlecombe tout; to the west, dogberry hill, and black'on near to the foreground, the beacon thereon being built of furze faggots thatched with straw, and standing on the spot where the monument now raises its head. at nine o'clock the troops marched upon the ground--some from the camps in the vicinity, and some from quarters in the different towns round about. the approaches to the down were blocked with carriages of all descriptions, ages, and colours, and with pedestrians of every class. at ten the royal personages were said to be drawing near, and soon after the king, accompanied by the dukes of cambridge and cumberland, and a couple of generals, appeared on horseback, wearing a round hat turned up at the side, with a cockade and military feather. (sensation among the crowd.) then the queen and three of the princesses entered the field in a great coach drawn by six beautiful cream-coloured horses. another coach, with four horses of the same sort, brought the two remaining princesses. (confused acclamations, 'there's king jarge!' 'that's queen sharlett!' 'princess 'lizabeth!' 'princesses sophiar and meelyer!' etc., from the surrounding spectators.) anne and her party were fortunate enough to secure a position on the top of one of the barrows which rose here and there on the down; and the miller having gallantly constructed a little cairn of flints, he placed the two women thereon, by which means they were enabled to see over the heads, horses, and coaches of the multitudes below and around. at the march-past the miller's eye, which had been wandering about for the purpose, discovered his son in his place by the trumpeters, who had moved forwards in two ranks, and were sounding the march. 'that's john!' he cried to the widow. 'his trumpet-sling is of two colours, d'ye see; and the others be plain.' mrs. garland too saw him now, and enthusiastically admired him from her hands upwards, and anne silently did the same. but before the young woman's eyes had quite left the trumpet-major they fell upon the figure of yeoman festus riding with his troop, and keeping his face at a medium between haughtiness and mere bravery. he certainly looked as soldierly as any of his own corps, and felt more soldierly than half-a-dozen, as anybody could see by observing him. anne got behind the miller, in case festus should discover her, and, regardless of his monarch, rush upon her in a rage with, 'why the devil did you run away from me that night--hey, madam?' but she resolved to think no more of him just now, and to stick to loveday, who was her mother's friend. in this she was helped by the stirring tones which burst from the latter gentleman and his subordinates from time to time. 'well,' said the miller complacently, 'there's few of more consequence in a regiment than a trumpeter. he's the chap that tells 'em what to do, after all. hey, mrs. garland?' 'so he is, miller,' said she. 'they could no more do without jack and his men than they could without generals.' 'indeed they could not,' said mrs. garland again, in a tone of pleasant agreement with any one in great britain or ireland. it was said that the line that day was three miles long, reaching from the high ground on the right of where the people stood to the turnpike road on the left. after the review came a sham fight, during which action the crowd dispersed more widely over the downs, enabling widow garland to get still clearer glimpses of the king, and his handsome charger, and the head of the queen, and the elbows and shoulders of the princesses in the carriages, and fractional parts of general garth and the duke of cumberland; which sights gave her great gratification. she tugged at her daughter at every opportunity, exclaiming, 'now you can see his feather!' 'there's her hat!' 'there's her majesty's india muslin shawl!' in a minor form of ecstasy, that made the miller think her more girlish and animated than her daughter anne. in those military manoeuvres the miller followed the fortunes of one man; anne garland of two. the spectators, who, unlike our party, had no personal interest in the soldiery, saw only troops and battalions in the concrete, straight lines of red, straight lines of blue, white lines formed of innumerable knee-breeches, black lines formed of many gaiters, coming and going in kaleidoscopic change. who thought of every point in the line as an isolated man, each dwelling all to himself in the hermitage of his own mind? one person did, a young man far removed from the barrow where the garlands and miller loveday stood. the natural expression of his face was somewhat obscured by the bronzing effects of rough weather, but the lines of his mouth showed that affectionate impulses were strong within him--perhaps stronger than judgment well could regulate. he wore a blue jacket with little brass buttons, and was plainly a seafaring man. meanwhile, in the part of the plain where rose the tumulus on which the miller had established himself, a broad-brimmed tradesman was elbowing his way along. he saw mr. loveday from the base of the barrow, and beckoned to attract his attention. loveday went halfway down, and the other came up as near as he could. 'miller,' said the man, 'a letter has been lying at the post-office for you for the last three days. if i had known that i should see ye here i'd have brought it along with me.' the miller thanked him for the news, and they parted, loveday returning to the summit. 'what a very strange thing!' he said to mrs. garland, who had looked inquiringly at his face, now very grave. 'that was budmouth postmaster, and he says there's a letter for me. ah, i now call to mind that there _was_ a letter in the candle three days ago this very night--a large red one; but foolish-like i thought nothing o't. who _can_ that letter be from?' a letter at this time was such an event for hamleteers, even of the miller's respectable standing, that loveday thenceforward was thrown into a fit of abstraction which prevented his seeing any more of the sham fight, or the people, or the king. mrs. garland imbibed some of his concern, and suggested that the letter might come from his son robert. 'i should naturally have thought that,' said miller loveday; 'but he wrote to me only two months ago, and his brother john heard from him within the last four weeks, when he was just about starting on another voyage. if you'll pardon me, mrs. garland, ma'am, i'll see if there's any overcombe man here who is going to budmouth to-day, so that i may get the letter by night-time. i cannot possibly go myself.' so mr. loveday left them for awhile; and as they were so near home mrs. garland did not wait on the barrow for him to come back, but walked about with anne a little time, until they should be disposed to trot down the slope to their own door. they listened to a man who was offering one guinea to receive ten in case buonaparte should be killed in three months, and to other entertainments of that nature, which at this time were not rare. once during their peregrination the eyes of the sailor before-mentioned fell upon anne; but he glanced over her and passed her unheedingly by. loveday the elder was at this time on the other side of the line, looking for a messenger to the town. at twelve o'clock the review was over, and the king and his family left the hill. the troops then cleared off the field, the spectators followed, and by one o'clock the downs were again bare. they still spread their grassy surface to the sun as on that beautiful morning not, historically speaking, so very long ago; but the king and his fifteen thousand armed men, the horses, the bands of music, the princesses, the cream-coloured teams--the gorgeous centre-piece, in short, to which the downs were but the mere mount or margin--how entirely have they all passed and gone!--lying scattered about the world as military and other dust, some at talavera, albuera, salamanca, vittoria, toulouse, and waterloo; some in home churchyards; and a few small handfuls in royal vaults. in the afternoon john loveday, lightened of his trumpet and trappings, appeared at the old mill-house door, and beheld anne standing at hers. 'i saw you, miss garland,' said the soldier gaily. 'where was i?' said she, smiling. 'on the top of the big mound--to the right of the king.' 'and i saw you; lots of times,' she rejoined. loveday seemed pleased. 'did you really take the trouble to find me? that was very good of you.' 'her eyes followed you everywhere,' said mrs. garland from an upper window. 'of course i looked at the dragoons most,' said anne, disconcerted. 'and when i looked at them my eyes naturally fell upon the trumpets. i looked at the dragoons generally, no more.' she did not mean to show any vexation to the trumpet-major, but he fancied otherwise, and stood repressed. the situation was relieved by the arrival of the miller, still looking serious. 'i am very much concerned, john; i did not go to the review for nothing. there's a letter a-waiting for me at budmouth, and i must get it before bedtime, or i shan't sleep a wink.' 'i'll go, of course,' said john; 'and perhaps miss garland would like to see what's doing there to-day? everybody is gone or going; the road is like a fair.' he spoke pleadingly, but anne was not won to assent. 'you can drive in the gig; 'twill do blossom good,' said the miller. 'let david drive miss garland,' said the trumpet-major, not wishing to coerce her; 'i would just as soon walk.' anne joyfully welcomed this arrangement, and a time was fixed for the start. xiii. the conversation in the crowd in the afternoon they drove off, john loveday being nowhere visible. all along the road they passed and were overtaken by vehicles of all descriptions going in the same direction; among them the extraordinary machines which had been invented for the conveyance of troops to any point of the coast on which the enemy should land; they consisted of four boards placed across a sort of trolly, thirty men of the volunteer companies riding on each. the popular georgian watering-place was in a paroxysm of gaiety. the town was quite overpowered by the country round, much to the town's delight and profit. the fear of invasion was such that six frigates lay in the roads to ensure the safety of the royal family, and from the regiments of horse and foot quartered at the barracks, or encamped on the hills round about, a picket of a thousand men mounted guard every day in front of gloucester lodge, where the king resided. when anne and her attendant reached this point, which they did on foot, stabling the horse on the outskirts of the town, it was about six o'clock. the king was on the esplanade, and the soldiers were just marching past to mount guard. the band formed in front of the king, and all the officers saluted as they went by. anne now felt herself close to and looking into the stream of recorded history, within whose banks the littlest things are great, and outside which she and the general bulk of the human race were content to live on as an unreckoned, unheeded superfluity. when she turned from her interested gaze at this scene, there stood john loveday. she had had a presentiment that he would turn up in this mysterious way. it was marvellous that he could have got there so quickly; but there he was--not looking at the king, or at the crowd, but waiting for the turn of her head. 'trumpet-major, i didn't see you,' said anne demurely. 'how is it that your regiment is not marching past?' 'we take it by turns, and it is not our turn,' said loveday. she wanted to know then if they were afraid that the king would be carried off by the first consul. yes, loveday told her; and his majesty was rather venturesome. a day or two before he had gone so far to sea that he was nearly caught by some of the enemy's cruisers. 'he is anxious to fight boney single-handed,' he said. 'what a good, brave king!' said anne. loveday seemed anxious to come to more personal matters. 'will you let me take you round to the other side, where you can see better?' he asked. 'the queen and the princesses are at the window.' anne passively assented. 'david, wait here for me,' she said; 'i shall be back again in a few minutes.' the trumpet-major then led her off triumphantly, and they skirted the crowd and came round on the side towards the sands. he told her everything he could think of, military and civil, to which anne returned pretty syllables and parenthetic words about the colour of the sea and the curl of the foam--a way of speaking that moved the soldier's heart even more than long and direct speeches would have done. 'and that other thing i asked you?' he ventured to say at last. 'we won't speak of it.' 'you don't dislike me?' 'o no!' she said, gazing at the bathing-machines, digging children, and other common objects of the seashore, as if her interest lay there rather than with him. 'but i am not worthy of the daughter of a genteel professional man--that's what you mean?' 'there's something more than worthiness required in such cases, you know,' she said, still without calling her mind away from surrounding scenes. 'ah, there are the queen and princesses at the window!' 'something more?' 'well, since you will make me speak, i mean the woman ought to love the man.' the trumpet-major seemed to be less concerned about this than about her supposed superiority. 'if it were all right on that point, would you mind the other?' he asked, like a man who knows he is too persistent, yet who cannot be still. 'how can i say, when i don't know? what a pretty chip hat the elder princess wears?' her companion's general disappointment extended over him almost to his lace and his plume. 'your mother said, you know, miss anne--' 'yes, that's the worst of it,' she said. 'let us go back to david; i have seen all i want to see, mr. loveday.' the mass of the people had by this time noticed the queen and princesses at the window, and raised a cheer, to which the ladies waved their embroidered handkerchiefs. anne went back towards the pavement with her trumpet-major, whom all the girls envied her, so fine-looking a soldier was he; and not only for that, but because it was well known that he was not a soldier from necessity, but from patriotism, his father having repeatedly offered to set him up in business: his artistic taste in preferring a horse and uniform to a dirty, rumbling flour-mill was admired by all. she, too, had a very nice appearance in her best clothes as she walked along--the sarcenet hat, muslin shawl, and tight-sleeved gown being of the newest overcombe fashion, that was only about a year old in the adjoining town, and in london three or four. she could not be harsh to loveday and dismiss him curtly, for his musical pursuits had refined him, educated him, and made him quite poetical. to-day he had been particularly well-mannered and tender; so, instead of answering, 'never speak to me like this again,' she merely put him off with a 'let us go back to david.' when they reached the place where they had left him david was gone. anne was now positively vexed. 'what _shall_ i do?' she said. 'he's only gone to drink the king's health,' said loveday, who had privately given david the money for performing that operation. 'depend upon it, he'll be back soon.' 'will you go and find him?' said she, with intense propriety in her looks and tone. 'i will,' said loveday reluctantly; and he went. anne stood still. she could now escape her gallant friend, for, although the distance was long, it was not impossible to walk home. on the other hand, loveday was a good and sincere fellow, for whom she had almost a brotherly feeling, and she shrank from such a trick. while she stood and mused, scarcely heeding the music, the marching of the soldiers, the king, the dukes, the brilliant staff, the attendants, and the happy groups of people, her eyes fell upon the ground. before her she saw a flower lying--a crimson sweet-william--fresh and uninjured. an instinctive wish to save it from destruction by the passengers' feet led her to pick it up; and then, moved by a sudden self- consciousness, she looked around. she was standing before an inn, and from an upper window festus derriman was leaning with two or three kindred spirits of his cut and kind. he nodded eagerly, and signified to her that he had thrown the flower. what should she do? to throw it away would seem stupid, and to keep it was awkward. she held it between her finger and thumb, twirled it round on its axis and twirled it back again, regarding and yet not examining it. just then she saw the trumpet-major coming back. 'i can't find david anywhere,' he said; and his heart was not sorry as he said it. anne was still holding out the sweet-william as if about to drop it, and, scarcely knowing what she did under the distressing sense that she was watched, she offered the flower to loveday. his face brightened with pleasure as he took it. 'thank you, indeed,' he said. then anne saw what a misleading blunder she had committed towards loveday in playing to the yeoman. perhaps she had sown the seeds of a quarrel. 'it was not my sweet-william,' she said hastily; 'it was lying on the ground. i don't mean anything by giving it to you.' 'but i'll keep it all the same,' said the innocent soldier, as if he knew a good deal about womankind; and he put the flower carefully inside his jacket, between his white waistcoat and his heart. festus, seeing this, enlarged himself wrathfully, got hot in the face, rose to his feet, and glared down upon them like a turnip-lantern. 'let us go away,' said anne timorously. 'i'll see you safe to your own door, depend upon me,' said loveday. 'but--i had near forgot--there's father's letter, that he's so anxiously waiting for! will you come with me to the post-office? then i'll take you straight home.' anne, expecting festus to pounce down every minute, was glad to be off anywhere; so she accepted the suggestion, and they went along the parade together. loveday set this down as a proof of anne's relenting. thus in joyful spirits he entered the office, paid the postage, and received the letter. 'it is from bob, after all!' he said. 'father told me to read it at once, in case of bad news. ask your pardon for keeping you a moment.' he broke the seal and read, anne standing silently by. 'he is coming home _to be married_,' said the trumpet-major, without looking up. anne did not answer. the blood swept impetuously up her face at his words, and as suddenly went away again, leaving her rather paler than before. she disguised her agitation and then overcame it, loveday observing nothing of this emotional performance. 'as far as i can understand he will be here saturday,' he said. 'indeed!' said anne quite calmly. 'and who is he going to marry?' 'that i don't know,' said john, turning the letter about. 'the woman is a stranger.' at this moment the miller entered the office hastily. 'come, john,' he cried, 'i have been waiting and waiting for that there letter till i was nigh crazy!' john briefly explained the news, and when his father had recovered from his astonishment, taken off his hat, and wiped the exact line where his forehead joined his hair, he walked with anne up the street, leaving john to return alone. the miller was so absorbed in his mental perspective of bob's marriage, that he saw nothing of the gaieties they passed through; and anne seemed also so much impressed by the same intelligence, that she crossed before the inn occupied by festus without showing a recollection of his presence there. xiv. later in the evening of the same day when they reached home the sun was going down. it had already been noised abroad that miller loveday had received a letter, and, his cart having been heard coming up the lane, the population of overcombe drew down towards the mill as soon as he had gone indoors--a sudden flash of brightness from the window showing that he had struck such an early light as nothing but the immediate deciphering of literature could require. letters were matters of public moment, and everybody in the parish had an interest in the reading of those rare documents; so that when the miller had placed the candle, slanted himself, and called in mrs. garland to have her opinion on the meaning of any hieroglyphics that he might encounter in his course, he found that he was to be additionally assisted by the opinions of the other neighbours, whose persons appeared in the doorway, partly covering each other like a hand of cards, yet each showing a large enough piece of himself for identification. to pass the time while they were arranging themselves, the miller adopted his usual way of filling up casual intervals, that of snuffing the candle. 'we heard you had got a letter, maister loveday,' they said. 'yes; "southampton, the twelfth of august, dear father,"' said loveday; and they were as silent as relations at the reading of a will. anne, for whom the letter had a singular fascination, came in with her mother and sat down. bob stated in his own way that having, since landing, taken into consideration his father's wish that he should renounce a seafaring life and become a partner in the mill, he had decided to agree to the proposal; and with that object in view he would return to overcombe in three days from the time of writing. he then said incidentally that since his voyage he had been in lodgings at southampton, and during that time had become acquainted with a lovely and virtuous young maiden, in whom he found the exact qualities necessary to his happiness. having known this lady for the full space of a fortnight he had had ample opportunities of studying her character, and, being struck with the recollection that, if there was one thing more than another necessary in a mill which had no mistress, it was somebody who could play that part with grace and dignity, he had asked miss matilda johnson to be his wife. in her kindness she, though sacrificing far better prospects, had agreed; and he could not but regard it as a happy chance that he should have found at the nick of time such a woman to adorn his home, whose innocence was as stunning as her beauty. without much ado, therefore, he and she had arranged to be married at once, and at overcombe, that his father might not be deprived of the pleasures of the wedding feast. she had kindly consented to follow him by land in the course of a few days, and to live in the house as their guest for the week or so previous to the ceremony. ''tis a proper good letter,' said mrs. comfort from the background. 'i never heerd true love better put out of hand in my life; and they seem 'nation fond of one another.' 'he haven't knowed her such a very long time,' said job mitchell dubiously. 'that's nothing,' said esther beach. 'nater will find her way, very rapid when the time's come for't. well, 'tis good news for ye, miller.' 'yes, sure, i hope 'tis,' said loveday, without, however, showing any great hurry to burst into the frantic form of fatherly joy which the event should naturally have produced, seeming more disposed to let off his feelings by examining thoroughly into the fibres of the letter-paper. 'i was five years a-courting my wife,' he presently remarked. 'but folks were slower about everything in them days. well, since she's coming we must make her welcome. did any of ye catch by my reading which day it is he means? what with making out the penmanship, my mind was drawn off from the sense here and there.' 'he says in three days,' said mrs. garland. 'the date of the letter will fix it.' on examination it was found that the day appointed was the one nearly expired; at which the miller jumped up and said, 'then he'll be here before bedtime. i didn't gather till now that he was coming afore saturday. why, he may drop in this very minute!' he had scarcely spoken when footsteps were heard coming along the front, and they presently halted at the door. loveday pushed through the neighbours and rushed out; and, seeing in the passage a form which obscured the declining light, the miller seized hold of him, saying, 'o my dear bob; then you are come!' 'scrounch it all, miller, don't quite pull my poor shoulder out of joint! whatever is the matter?' said the new-comer, trying to release himself from loveday's grasp of affection. it was uncle benjy. 'thought 'twas my son!' faltered the miller, sinking back upon the toes of the neighbours who had closely followed him into the entry. 'well, come in, mr. derriman, and make yerself at home. why, you haven't been here for years! whatever has made you come now, sir, of all times in the world?' 'is he in there with ye?' whispered the farmer with misgiving. 'who?' 'my nephew, after that maid that he's so mighty smit with?' 'o no; he never calls here.' farmer derriman breathed a breath of relief. 'well, i've called to tell ye,' he said, 'that there's more news of the french. we shall have 'em here this month as sure as a gun. the gunboats be all ready--near two thousand of 'em--and the whole army is at boulogne. and, miller, i know ye to be an honest man.' loveday did not say nay. 'neighbour loveday, i know ye to be an honest man,' repeated the old squireen. 'can i speak to ye alone?' as the house was full, loveday took him into the garden, all the while upon tenter-hooks, not lest buonaparte should appear in their midst, but lest bob should come whilst he was not there to receive him. when they had got into a corner uncle benjy said, 'miller, what with the french, and what with my nephew festus, i assure ye my life is nothing but wherrit from morning to night. miller loveday, you are an honest man.' loveday nodded. 'well, i've come to ask a favour--to ask if you will take charge of my few poor title-deeds and documents and suchlike, while i am away from home next week, lest anything should befall me, and they should be stole away by boney or festus, and i should have nothing left in the wide world? i can trust neither banks nor lawyers in these terrible times; and i am come to you.' loveday after some hesitation agreed to take care of anything that derriman should bring, whereupon the farmer said he would call with the parchments and papers alluded to in the course of a week. derriman then went away by the garden gate, mounted his pony, which had been tethered outside, and rode on till his form was lost in the shades. the miller rejoined his friends, and found that in the meantime john had arrived. john informed the company that after parting from his father and anne he had rambled to the harbour, and discovered the pewit by the quay. on inquiry he had learnt that she came in at eleven o'clock, and that bob had gone ashore. 'we'll go and meet him,' said the miller. ''tis still light out of doors.' so, as the dew rose from the meads and formed fleeces in the hollows, loveday and his friends and neighbours strolled out, and loitered by the stiles which hampered the footpath from overcombe to the high road at intervals of a hundred yards. john loveday, being obliged to return to camp, was unable to accompany them, but widow garland thought proper to fall in with the procession. when she had put on her bonnet she called to her daughter. anne said from upstairs that she was coming in a minute; and her mother walked on without her. what was anne doing? having hastily unlocked a receptacle for emotional objects of small size, she took thence the little folded paper with which we have already become acquainted, and, striking a light from her private tinder-box, she held the paper, and curl of hair it contained, in the candle till they were burnt. then she put on her hat and followed her mother and the rest of them across the moist grey fields, cheerfully singing in an undertone as she went, to assure herself of her indifference to circumstances. xv. 'captain' bob loveday of the merchant service while loveday and his neighbours were thus rambling forth, full of expectancy, some of them, including anne in the rear, heard the crackling of light wheels along the curved lane to which the path was the chord. at once anne thought, 'perhaps that's he, and we are missing him.' but recent events were not of a kind to induce her to say anything; and the others of the company did not reflect on the sound. had they gone across to the hedge which hid the lane, and looked through it, they would have seen a light cart driven by a boy, beside whom was seated a seafaring man, apparently of good standing in the merchant service, with his feet outside on the shaft. the vehicle went over the main bridge, turned in upon the other bridge at the tail of the mill, and halted by the door. the sailor alighted, showing himself to be a well- shaped, active, and fine young man, with a bright eye, an anonymous nose, and of such a rich complexion by exposure to ripening suns that he might have been some connexion of the foreigner who calls his likeness the portrait of a gentleman in galleries of the old masters. yet in spite of this, and though bob loveday had been all over the world from cape horn to pekin, and from india's coral strand to the white sea, the most conspicuous of all the marks that he had brought back with him was an increased resemblance to his mother, who had lain all the time beneath overcombe church wall. captain loveday tried the house door; finding this locked he went to the mill door: this was locked also, the mill being stopped for the night. 'they are not at home,' he said to the boy. 'but never mind that. just help to unload the things and then i'll pay you, and you can drive off home.' the cart was unloaded, and the boy was dismissed, thanking the sailor profusely for the payment rendered. then bob loveday, finding that he had still some leisure on his hands, looked musingly east, west, north, south, and nadir; after which he bestirred himself by carrying his goods, article by article, round to the back door, out of the way of casual passers. this done, he walked round the mill in a more regardful attitude, and surveyed its familiar features one by one--the panes of the grinding-room, now as heretofore clouded with flour as with stale hoar- frost; the meal lodged in the corners of the window-sills, forming a soil in which lichens grew without ever getting any bigger, as they had done since his smallest infancy; the mosses on the plinth towards the river, reaching as high as the capillary power of the walls would fetch up moisture for their nourishment, and the penned mill-pond, now as ever on the point of overflowing into the garden. everything was the same. when he had had enough of this it occurred to loveday that he might get into the house in spite of the locked doors; and by entering the garden, placing a pole from the fork of an apple-tree to the window-sill of a bedroom on that side, and climbing across like a barbary ape, he entered the window and stepped down inside. there was something anomalous in being close to the familiar furniture without having first seen his father, and its silent, impassive shine was not cheering; it was as if his relations were all dead, and only their tables and chests of drawers left to greet him. he went downstairs and seated himself in the dark parlour. finding this place, too, rather solitary, and the tick of the invisible clock preternaturally loud, he unearthed the tinder-box, obtained a light, and set about making the house comfortable for his father's return, divining that the miller had gone out to meet him by the wrong road. robert's interest in this work increased as he proceeded, and he bustled round and round the kitchen as lightly as a girl. david, the indoor factotum, having lost himself among the quart pots of budmouth, there had been nobody left here to prepare supper, and bob had it all to himself. in a short time a fire blazed up the chimney, a tablecloth was found, the plates were clapped down, and a search made for what provisions the house afforded, which, in addition to various meats, included some fresh eggs of the elongated shape that produces cockerels when hatched, and had been set aside on that account for putting under the next broody hen. a more reckless cracking of eggs than that which now went on had never been known in overcombe since the last large christening; and as loveday gashed one on the side, another at the end, another longways, and another diagonally, he acquired adroitness by practice, and at last made every son of a hen of them fall into two hemispheres as neatly as if it opened by a hinge. from eggs he proceeded to ham, and from ham to kidneys, the result being a brilliant fry. not to be tempted to fall to before his father came back, the returned navigator emptied the whole into a dish, laid a plate over the top, his coat over the plate, and his hat over his coat. thus completely stopping in the appetizing smell, he sat down to await events. he was relieved from the tediousness of doing this by hearing voices outside; and in a minute his father entered. 'glad to welcome ye home, father,' said bob. 'and supper is just ready.' 'lard, lard--why, captain bob's here!' said mrs. garland. 'and we've been out waiting to meet thee!' said the miller, as he entered the room, followed by representatives of the houses of cripplestraw, comfort, mitchell, beach, and snooks, together with some small beginnings of fencible tremlett's posterity. in the rear came david, and quite in the vanishing-point of the composition, anne the fair. 'i drove over; and so was forced to come by the road,' said bob. 'and we went across the fields, thinking you'd walk,' said his father. 'i should have been here this morning; but not so much as a wheelbarrow could i get for my traps; everything was gone to the review. so i went too, thinking i might meet you there. i was then obliged to return to the harbour for the luggage.' then there was a welcoming of captain bob by pulling out his arms like drawers and shutting them again, smacking him on the back as if he were choking, holding him at arm's length as if he were of too large type to read close. all which persecution bob bore with a wide, genial smile that was shaken into fragments and scattered promiscuously among the spectators. 'get a chair for 'n!' said the miller to david, whom they had met in the fields and found to have got nothing worse by his absence than a slight slant in his walk. 'never mind--i am not tired--i have been here ever so long,' said bob. 'and i--' but the chair having been placed behind him, and a smart touch in the hollow of a person's knee by the edge of that piece of furniture having a tendency to make the person sit without further argument, bob sank down dumb, and the others drew up other chairs at a convenient nearness for easy analytic vision and the subtler forms of good fellowship. the miller went about saying, 'david, the nine best glasses from the corner cupboard!'--'david, the corkscrew!'--'david, whisk the tail of thy smock-frock round the inside of these quart pots afore you draw drink in 'em--they be an inch thick in dust!'--'david, lower that chimney-crook a couple of notches that the flame may touch the bottom of the kettle, and light three more of the largest candles!'--'if you can't get the cork out of the jar, david, bore a hole in the tub of hollands that's buried under the scroff in the fuel-house; d'ye hear?--dan brown left en there yesterday as a return for the little porker i gied en.' when they had all had a thimbleful round, and the superfluous neighbours had reluctantly departed, one by one, the inmates gave their minds to the supper, which david had begun to serve up. 'what be you rolling back the tablecloth for, david?' said the miller. 'maister bob have put down one of the under sheets by mistake, and i thought you might not like it, sir, as there's ladies present!' 'faith, 'twas the first thing that came to hand,' said robert. 'it seemed a tablecloth to me.' 'never mind--don't pull off the things now he's laid 'em down--let it bide,' said the miller. 'but where's widow garland and maidy anne?' 'they were here but a minute ago,' said david. 'depend upon it they have slinked off 'cause they be shy.' the miller at once went round to ask them to come back and sup with him; and while he was gone david told bob in confidence what an excellent place he had for an old man. 'yes, cap'n bob, as i suppose i must call ye; i've worked for yer father these eight-and-thirty years, and we have always got on very well together. trusts me with all the keys, lends me his sleeve-waistcoat, and leaves the house entirely to me. widow garland next door, too, is just the same with me, and treats me as if i was her own child.' 'she must have married young to make you that, david.' 'yes, yes--i'm years older than she. 'tis only my common way of speaking.' mrs. garland would not come in to supper, and the meal proceeded without her, bob recommending to his father the dish he had cooked, in the manner of a householder to a stranger just come. the miller was anxious to know more about his son's plans for the future, but would not for the present interrupt his eating, looking up from his own plate to appreciate bob's travelled way of putting english victuals out of sight, as he would have looked at a mill on improved principles. david had only just got the table clear, and set the plates in a row under the bakehouse table for the cats to lick, when the door was hastily opened, and mrs. garland came in, looking concerned. 'i have been waiting to hear the plates removed to tell you how frightened we are at something we hear at the back-door. it seems like robbers muttering; but when i look out there's nobody there!' 'this must be seen to,' said the miller, rising promptly. 'david, light the middle-sized lantern. i'll go and search the garden.' 'and i'll go too,' said his son, taking up a cudgel. 'lucky i've come home just in time!' they went out stealthily, followed by the widow and anne, who had been afraid to stay alone in the house under the circumstances. no sooner were they beyond the door when, sure enough, there was the muttering almost close at hand, and low upon the ground, as from persons lying down in hiding. 'bless my heart!' said bob, striking his head as though it were some enemy's: 'why, 'tis my luggage. i'd quite forgot it!' 'what!' asked his father. 'my luggage. really, if it hadn't been for mrs. garland it would have stayed there all night, and they, poor things! would have been starved. i've got all sorts of articles for ye. you go inside, and i'll bring 'em in. 'tis parrots that you hear a muttering, mrs. garland. you needn't be afraid any more.' 'parrots?' said the miller. 'well, i'm glad 'tis no worse. but how couldst forget so, bob?' the packages were taken in by david and bob, and the first unfastened were three, wrapped in cloths, which being stripped off revealed three cages, with a gorgeous parrot in each. 'this one is for you, father, to hang up outside the door, and amuse us,' said bob. 'he'll talk very well, but he's sleepy to-night. this other one i brought along for any neighbour that would like to have him. his colours are not so bright; but 'tis a good bird. if you would like to have him you are welcome to him,' he said, turning to anne, who had been tempted forward by the birds. 'you have hardly spoken yet, miss anne, but i recollect you very well. how much taller you have got, to be sure!' anne said she was much obliged, but did not know what she could do with such a present. mrs. garland accepted it for her, and the sailor went on--'now this other bird i hardly know what to do with; but i dare say he'll come in for something or other.' 'he is by far the prettiest,' said the widow. 'i would rather have it than the other, if you don't mind.' 'yes,' said bob, with embarrassment. 'but the fact is, that bird will hardly do for ye, ma'am. he's a hard swearer, to tell the truth; and i am afraid he's too old to be broken of it.' 'how dreadful!' said mrs. garland. 'we could keep him in the mill,' suggested the miller. 'it won't matter about the grinder hearing him, for he can't learn to cuss worse than he do already!' 'the grinder shall have him, then,' said bob. 'the one i have given you, ma'am, has no harm in him at all. you might take him to church o' sundays as far as that goes.' the sailor now untied a small wooden box about a foot square, perforated with holes. 'here are two marmosets,' he continued. 'you can't see them to-night; but they are beauties--the tufted sort.' 'what's a marmoset?' said the miller. 'o, a little kind of monkey. they bite strangers rather hard, but you'll soon get used to 'em.' 'they are wrapped up in something, i declare,' said mrs. garland, peeping in through a chink. 'yes, that's my flannel shirt,' said bob apologetically. 'they suffer terribly from cold in this climate, poor things! and i had nothing better to give them. well, now, in this next box i've got things of different sorts.' the latter was a regular seaman's chest, and out of it he produced shells of many sizes and colours, carved ivories, queer little caskets, gorgeous feathers, and several silk handkerchiefs, which articles were spread out upon all the available tables and chairs till the house began to look like a bazaar. 'what a lovely shawl!' exclaimed widow garland, in her interest forestalling the regular exhibition by looking into the box at what was coming. 'o yes,' said the mate, pulling out a couple of the most bewitching shawls that eyes ever saw. 'one of these i am going to give to that young lady i am shortly to be married to, you know, mrs. garland. has father told you about it? matilda johnson, of southampton, that's her name.' 'yes, we know all about it,' said the widow. 'well, i shall give one of these shawls to her--because, of course, i ought to.' 'of course,' said she. 'but the other one i've got no use for at all; and,' he continued, looking round, 'will you have it, miss anne? you refused the parrot, and you ought not to refuse this.' 'thank you,' said anne calmly, but much distressed; 'but really i don't want it, and couldn't take it.' 'but do have it!' said bob in hurt tones, mrs. garland being all the while on tenter-hooks lest anne should persist in her absurd refusal. 'why, there's another reason why you ought to!' said he, his face lighting up with recollections. 'it never came into my head till this moment that i used to be your beau in a humble sort of way. faith, so i did, and we used to meet at places sometimes, didn't we--that is, when you were not too proud; and once i gave you, or somebody else, a bit of my hair in fun.' 'it was somebody else,' said anne quickly. 'ah, perhaps it was,' said bob innocently. 'but it was you i used to meet, or try to, i am sure. well, i've never thought of that boyish time for years till this minute! i am sure you ought to accept some one gift, dear, out of compliment to those old times!' anne drew back and shook her head, for she would not trust her voice. 'well, mrs. garland, then you shall have it,' said bob, tossing the shawl to that ready receiver. 'if you don't, upon my life i will throw it out to the first beggar i see. now, here's a parcel of cap ribbons of the splendidest sort i could get. have these--do, anne!' 'yes, do,' said mrs. garland. 'i promised them to matilda,' continued bob; 'but i am sure she won't want 'em, as she has got some of her own: and i would as soon see them upon your head, my dear, as upon hers.' 'i think you had better keep them for your bride if you have promised them to her,' said mrs. garland mildly. 'it wasn't exactly a promise. i just said, "til, there's some cap ribbons in my box, if you would like to have them." but she's got enough things already for any bride in creation. anne, now you shall have 'em--upon my soul you shall--or i'll fling them down the mill-tail!' anne had meant to be perfectly firm in refusing everything, for reasons obvious even to that poor waif, the meanest capacity; but when it came to this point she was absolutely compelled to give in, and reluctantly received the cap ribbons in her arms, blushing fitfully, and with her lip trembling in a motion which she tried to exhibit as a smile. 'what would tilly say if she knew!' said the miller slily. 'yes, indeed--and it is wrong of him!' anne instantly cried, tears running down her face as she threw the parcel of ribbons on the floor. 'you'd better bestow your gifts where you bestow your l--l--love, mr. loveday--that's what i say!' and anne turned her back and went away. 'i'll take them for her,' said mrs. garland, quickly picking up the parcel. 'now that's a pity,' said bob, looking regretfully after anne. 'i didn't remember that she was a quick-tempered sort of girl at all. tell her, mrs. garland, that i ask her pardon. but of course i didn't know she was too proud to accept a little present--how should i? upon my life if it wasn't for matilda i'd--well, that can't be, of course.' 'what's this?' said mrs. garland, touching with her foot a large package that had been laid down by bob unseen. 'that's a bit of baccy for myself,' said robert meekly. the examination of presents at last ended, and the two families parted for the night. when they were alone, mrs. garland said to anne, 'what a close girl you are! i am sure i never knew that bob loveday and you had walked together: you must have been mere children.' 'o yes--so we were,' said anne, now quite recovered. 'it was when we first came here, about a year after father died. we did not walk together in any regular way. you know i have never thought the lovedays high enough for me. it was only just--nothing at all, and i had almost forgotten it.' it is to be hoped that somebody's sins were forgiven her that night before she went to bed. when bob and his father were left alone, the miller said, 'well, robert, about this young woman of thine--matilda what's her name?' 'yes, father--matilda johnson. i was just going to tell ye about her.' the miller nodded, and sipped his mug. 'well, she is an excellent body,' continued bob; 'that can truly be said--a real charmer, you know--a nice good comely young woman, a miracle of genteel breeding, you know, and all that. she can throw her hair into the nicest curls, and she's got splendid gowns and headclothes. in short, you might call her a land mermaid. she'll make such a first-rate wife as there never was.' 'no doubt she will,' said the miller; 'for i have never known thee wanting in sense in a jineral way.' he turned his cup round on its axis till the handle had travelled a complete circle. 'how long did you say in your letter that you had known her?' 'a fortnight.' 'not _very_ long.' 'it don't sound long, 'tis true; and 'twas really longer--'twas fifteen days and a quarter. but hang it, father, i could see in the twinkling of an eye that the girl would do. i know a woman well enough when i see her--i ought to, indeed, having been so much about the world. now, for instance, there's widow garland and her daughter. the girl is a nice little thing; but the old woman--o no!' bob shook his head. 'what of her?' said his father, slightly shifting in his chair. 'well, she's, she's--i mean, i should never have chose her, you know. she's of a nice disposition, and young for a widow with a grown-up daughter; but if all the men had been like me she would never have had a husband. i like her in some respects; but she's a style of beauty i don't care for.' 'o, if 'tis only looks you are thinking of,' said the miller, much relieved, 'there's nothing to be said, of course. though there's many a duchess worse-looking, if it comes to argument, as you would find, my son,' he added, with a sense of having been mollified too soon. the mate's thoughts were elsewhere by this time. 'as to my marrying matilda, thinks i, here's one of the very genteelest sort, and i may as well do the job at once. so i chose her. she's a dear girl; there's nobody like her, search where you will.' 'how many did you choose her out from?' inquired his father. 'well, she was the only young woman i happened to know in southampton, that's true. but what of that? it would have been all the same if i had known a hundred.' 'her father is in business near the docks, i suppose?' 'well, no. in short, i didn't see her father.' 'her mother?' 'her mother? no, i didn't. i think her mother is dead; but she has got a very rich aunt living at melchester. i didn't see her aunt, because there wasn't time to go; but of course we shall know her when we are married.' 'yes, yes, of course,' said the miller, trying to feel quite satisfied. 'and she will soon be here?' 'ay, she's coming soon,' said bob. 'she has gone to this aunt's at melchester to get her things packed, and suchlike, or she would have come with me. i am going to meet the coach at the king's arms, casterbridge, on sunday, at one o'clock. to show what a capital sort of wife she'll be, i may tell you that she wanted to come by the mercury, because 'tis a little cheaper than the other. but i said, "for once in your life do it well, and come by the royal mail, and i'll pay." i can have the pony and trap to fetch her, i suppose, as 'tis too far for her to walk?' 'of course you can, bob, or anything else. and i'll do all i can to give you a good wedding feast.' xvi. they make ready for the illustrious stranger preparations for matilda's welcome, and for the event which was to follow, at once occupied the attention of the mill. the miller and his man had but dim notions of housewifery on any large scale; so the great wedding cleaning was kindly supervised by mrs. garland, bob being mostly away during the day with his brother, the trumpet-major, on various errands, one of which was to buy paint and varnish for the gig that matilda was to be fetched in, which he had determined to decorate with his own hands. by the widow's direction the old familiar incrustation of shining dirt, imprinted along the back of the settle by the heads of countless jolly sitters, was scrubbed and scraped away; the brown circle round the nail whereon the miller hung his hat, stained by the brim in wet weather, was whitened over; the tawny smudges of bygone shoulders in the passage were removed without regard to a certain genial and historical value which they had acquired. the face of the clock, coated with verdigris as thick as a diachylon plaister, was rubbed till the figures emerged into day; while, inside the case of the same chronometer, the cobwebs that formed triangular hammocks, which the pendulum could hardly wade through, were cleared away at one swoop. mrs. garland also assisted at the invasion of worm-eaten cupboards, where layers of ancient smells lingered on in the stagnant air, and recalled to the reflective nose the many good things that had been kept there. the upper floors were scrubbed with such abundance of water that the old-established death-watches, wood-lice, and flour-worms were all drowned, the suds trickling down into the room below in so lively and novel a manner as to convey the romantic notion that the miller lived in a cave with dripping stalactites. they moved what had never been moved before--the oak coffer, containing the miller's wardrobe--a tremendous weight, what with its locks, hinges, nails, dirt, framework, and the hard stratification of old jackets, waistcoats, and knee-breeches at the bottom, never disturbed since the miller's wife died, and half pulverized by the moths, whose flattened skeletons lay amid the mass in thousands. 'it fairly makes my back open and shut!' said loveday, as, in obedience to mrs. garland's direction, he lifted one corner, the grinder and david assisting at the others. 'all together: speak when ye be going to heave. now!' the pot covers and skimmers were brought to such a state that, on examining them, the beholder was not conscious of utensils, but of his own face in a condition of hideous elasticity. the broken clock-line was mended, the kettles rocked, the creeper nailed up, and a new handle put to the warming-pan. the large household lantern was cleaned out, after three years of uninterrupted accumulation, the operation yielding a conglomerate of candle-snuffs, candle-ends, remains of matches, lamp-black, and eleven ounces and a half of good grease--invaluable as dubbing for skitty boots and ointment for cart-wheels. everybody said that the mill residence had not been so thoroughly scoured for twenty years. the miller and david looked on with a sort of awe tempered by gratitude, tacitly admitting by their gaze that this was beyond what they had ever thought of. mrs. garland supervised all with disinterested benevolence. it would never have done, she said, for his future daughter-in-law to see the house in its original state. she would have taken a dislike to him, and perhaps to bob likewise. 'why don't ye come and live here with me, and then you would be able to see to it at all times?' said the miller as she bustled about again. to which she answered that she was considering the matter, and might in good time. he had previously informed her that his plan was to put bob and his wife in the part of the house that she, mrs. garland, occupied, as soon as she chose to enter his, which relieved her of any fear of being incommoded by matilda. the cooking for the wedding festivities was on a proportionate scale of thoroughness. they killed the four supernumerary chickens that had just begun to crow, and the little curly-tailed barrow pig, in preference to the sow; not having been put up fattening for more than five weeks it was excellent small meat, and therefore more delicate and likely to suit a town-bred lady's taste than the large one, which, having reached the weight of fourteen score, might have been a little gross to a cultured palate. there were also provided a cold chine, stuffed veal, and two pigeon pies. also thirty rings of black-pot, a dozen of white-pot, and ten knots of tender and well-washed chitterlings, cooked plain in case she should like a change. as additional reserves there were sweetbreads, and five milts, sewed up at one side in the form of a chrysalis, and stuffed with thyme, sage, parsley, mint, groats, rice, milk, chopped egg, and other ingredients. they were afterwards roasted before a slow fire, and eaten hot. the business of chopping so many herbs for the various stuffings was found to be aching work for women; and david, the miller, the grinder, and the grinder's boy being fully occupied in their proper branches, and bob being very busy painting the gig and touching up the harness, loveday called in a friendly dragoon of john's regiment who was passing by, and he, being a muscular man, willingly chopped all the afternoon for a quart of strong, judiciously administered, and all other victuals found, taking off his jacket and gloves, rolling up his shirt-sleeves and unfastening his collar in an honourable and energetic way. all windfalls and maggot-cored codlins were excluded from the apple pies; and as there was no known dish large enough for the purpose, the puddings were stirred up in the milking-pail, and boiled in the three-legged bell- metal crock, of great weight and antiquity, which every travelling tinker for the previous thirty years had tapped with his stick, coveted, made a bid for, and often attempted to steal. in the liquor line loveday laid in an ample barrel of casterbridge 'strong beer.' this renowned drink--now almost as much a thing of the past as falstaff's favourite beverage--was not only well calculated to win the hearts of soldiers blown dry and dusty by residence in tents on a hill-top, but of any wayfarer whatever in that land. it was of the most beautiful colour that the eye of an artist in beer could desire; full in body, yet brisk as a volcano; piquant, yet without a twang; luminous as an autumn sunset; free from streakiness of taste; but, finally, rather heady. the masses worshipped it, the minor gentry loved it more than wine, and by the most illustrious county families it was not despised. anybody brought up for being drunk and disorderly in the streets of its natal borough, had only to prove that he was a stranger to the place and its liquor to be honourably dismissed by the magistrates, as one overtaken in a fault that no man could guard against who entered the town unawares. in addition, mr. loveday also tapped a hogshead of fine cider that he had had mellowing in the house for several months, having bought it of an honest down-country man, who did not colour, for any special occasion like the present. it had been pressed from fruit judiciously chosen by an old hand--horner and cleeves apple for the body, a few tom-putts for colour, and just a dash of old five-corners for sparkle--a selection originally made to please the palate of a well-known temperate earl who was a regular cider-drinker, and lived to be eighty-eight. on the morning of the sunday appointed for her coming captain bob loveday set out to meet his bride. he had been all the week engaged in painting the gig, assisted by his brother at odd times, and it now appeared of a gorgeous yellow, with blue streaks, and tassels at the corners, and red wheels outlined with a darker shade. he put in the pony at half-past eleven, anne looking at him from the door as he packed himself into the vehicle and drove off. there may be young women who look out at young men driving to meet their brides as anne looked at captain bob, and yet are quite indifferent to the circumstances; but they are not often met with. so much dust had been raised on the highway by traffic resulting from the presence of the court at the town further on, that brambles hanging from the fence, and giving a friendly scratch to the wanderer's face, were dingy as church cobwebs; and the grass on the margin had assumed a paper- shaving hue. bob's father had wished him to take david, lest, from want of recent experience at the whip, he should meet with any mishap; but, picturing to himself the awkwardness of three in such circumstances, bob would not hear of this; and nothing more serious happened to his driving than that the wheel-marks formed two serpentine lines along the road during the first mile or two, before he had got his hand in, and that the horse shied at a milestone, a piece of paper, a sleeping tramp, and a wheelbarrow, just to make use of the opportunity of being in bad hands. he entered casterbridge between twelve and one, and, putting up at the old greyhound, walked on to the bow. here, rather dusty on the ledges of his clothes, he stood and waited while the people in their best summer dresses poured out of the three churches round him. when they had all gone, and a smell of cinders and gravy had spread down the ancient high- street, and the pie-dishes from adjacent bakehouses had all travelled past, he saw the mail coach rise above the arch of grey's bridge, a quarter of a mile distant, surmounted by swaying knobs, which proved to be the heads of the outside travellers. 'that's the way for a man's bride to come to him,' said robert to himself with a feeling of poetry; and as the horn sounded and the horses clattered up the street he walked down to the inn. the knot of hostlers and inn-servants had gathered, the horses were dragged from the vehicle, and the passengers for casterbridge began to descend. captain bob eyed them over, looked inside, looked outside again; to his disappointment matilda was not there, nor her boxes, nor anything that was hers. neither coachman nor guard had seen or heard of such a person at melchester; and bob walked slowly away. depressed by forebodings to an extent which took away nearly a third of his appetite, he sat down in the parlour of the old greyhound to a slice from the family joint of the landlord. this gentleman, who dined in his shirt-sleeves, partly because it was august, and partly from a sense that they would not be so fit for public view further on in the week, suggested that bob should wait till three or four that afternoon, when the road-waggon would arrive, as the lost lady might have preferred that mode of conveyance; and when bob appeared rather hurt at the suggestion, the landlord's wife assured him, as a woman who knew good life, that many genteel persons travelled in that way during the present high price of provisions. loveday, who knew little of travelling by land, readily accepted her assurance and resolved to wait. wandering up and down the pavement, or leaning against some hot wall between the waggon-office and the corner of the street above, he passed the time away. it was a still, sunny, drowsy afternoon, and scarcely a soul was visible in the length and breadth of the street. the office was not far from all saints' church, and the church-windows being open, he could hear the afternoon service from where he lingered as distinctly as if he had been one of the congregation. thus he was mentally conducted through the psalms, through the first and second lessons, through the burst of fiddles and clarionets which announced the evening-hymn, and well into the sermon, before any signs of the waggon could be seen upon the london road. the afternoon sermons at this church being of a dry and metaphysical nature at that date, it was by a special providence that the waggon-office was placed near the ancient fabric, so that whenever the sunday waggon was late, which it always was in hot weather, in cold weather, in wet weather, and in weather of almost every other sort, the rattle, dismounting, and swearing outside completely drowned the parson's voice within, and sustained the flagging interest of the congregation at precisely the right moment. no sooner did the charity children begin to writhe on their benches, and adult snores grow audible, than the waggon arrived. captain loveday felt a kind of sinking in his poetry at the possibility of her for whom they had made such preparations being in the slow, unwieldy vehicle which crunched its way towards him; but he would not give in to the weakness. neither would he walk down the street to meet the waggon, lest she should not be there. at last the broad wheels drew up against the kerb, the waggoner with his white smock-frock, and whip as long as a fishing-line, descended from the pony on which he rode alongside, and the six broad-chested horses backed from their collars and shook themselves. in another moment something showed forth, and he knew that matilda was there. bob felt three cheers rise within him as she stepped down; but it being sunday he did not utter them. in dress, miss johnson passed his expectations--a green and white gown, with long, tight sleeves, a green silk handkerchief round her neck and crossed in front, a green parasol, and green gloves. it was strange enough to see this verdant caterpillar turn out of a road-waggon, and gracefully shake herself free from the bits of straw and fluff which would usually gather on the raiment of the grandest travellers by that vehicle. 'but, my dear matilda,' said bob, when he had kissed her three times with much publicity--the practical step he had determined on seeming to demand that these things should no longer be done in a corner--'my dear matilda, why didn't you come by the coach, having the money for't and all?' 'that's my scrimping!' said matilda in a delightful gush. 'i know you won't be offended when you know i did it to save against a rainy day!' bob, of course, was not offended, though the glory of meeting her had been less; and even if vexation were possible, it would have been out of place to say so. still, he would have experienced no little surprise had he learnt the real reason of his matilda's change of plan. that angel had, in short, so wildly spent bob's and her own money in the adornment of her person before setting out, that she found herself without a sufficient margin for her fare by coach, and had scrimped from sheer necessity. 'well, i have got the trap out at the greyhound,' said bob. 'i don't know whether it will hold your luggage and us too; but it looked more respectable than the waggon on a sunday, and if there's not room for the boxes i can walk alongside.' 'i think there will be room,' said miss johnson mildly. and it was soon very evident that she spoke the truth; for when her property was deposited on the pavement, it consisted of a trunk about eighteen inches long, and nothing more. 'o--that's all!' said captain loveday, surprised. 'that's all,' said the young woman assuringly. 'i didn't want to give trouble, you know, and what i have besides i have left at my aunt's.' 'yes, of course,' he answered readily. 'and as it's no bigger, i can carry it in my hand to the inn, and so it will be no trouble at all.' he caught up the little box, and they went side by side to the greyhound; and in ten minutes they were trotting up the southern road. bob did not hurry the horse, there being many things to say and hear, for which the present situation was admirably suited. the sun shone occasionally into matilda's face as they drove on, its rays picking out all her features to a great nicety. her eyes would have been called brown, but they were really eel-colour, like many other nice brown eyes; they were well-shaped and rather bright, though they had more of a broad shine than a sparkle. she had a firm, sufficient nose, which seemed to say of itself that it was good as noses go. she had rather a picturesque way of wrapping her upper in her lower lip, so that the red of the latter showed strongly. whenever she gazed against the sun towards the distant hills, she brought into her forehead, without knowing it, three short vertical lines--not there at other times--giving her for the moment rather a hard look. and in turning her head round to a far angle, to stare at something or other that he pointed out, the drawn flesh of her neck became a mass of lines. but bob did not look at these things, which, of course, were of no significance; for had she not told him, when they compared ages, that she was a little over two-and-twenty? as nature was hardly invented at this early point of the century, bob's matilda could not say much about the glamour of the hills, or the shimmering of the foliage, or the wealth of glory in the distant sea, as she would doubtless have done had she lived later on; but she did her best to be interesting, asking bob about matters of social interest in the neighbourhood, to which she seemed quite a stranger. 'is your watering-place a large city?' she inquired when they mounted the hill where the overcombe folk had waited for the king. 'bless you, my dear--no! 'twould be nothing if it wasn't for the royal family, and the lords and ladies, and the regiments of soldiers, and the frigates, and the king's messengers, and the actors and actresses, and the games that go on.' at the words 'actors and actresses,' the innocent young thing pricked up her ears. 'does elliston pay as good salaries this summer as in--?' 'o, you know about it then? i thought--' 'o no, no! i have heard of budmouth--read in the papers, you know, dear robert, about the doings there, and the actors and actresses, you know.' 'yes, yes, i see. well, i have been away from england a long time, and don't know much about the theatre in the town; but i'll take you there some day. would it be a treat to you?' 'o, an amazing treat!' said miss johnson, with an ecstasy in which a close observer might have discovered a tinge of ghastliness. 'you've never been into one perhaps, dear?' 'n--never,' said matilda flatly. 'whatever do i see yonder--a row of white things on the down?' 'yes, that's a part of the encampment above overcombe. lots of soldiers are encamped about here; those are the white tops of their tents.' he pointed to a wing of the camp that had become visible. matilda was much interested. 'it will make it very lively for us,' he added, 'especially as john is there.' she thought so too, and thus they chatted on. xvii. two fainting fits and a bewilderment meanwhile miller loveday was expecting the pair with interest; and about five o'clock, after repeated outlooks, he saw two specks the size of caraway seeds on the far line of ridge where the sunlit white of the road met the blue of the sky. then the remainder parts of bob and his lady became visible, and then the whole vehicle, end on, and he heard the dry rattle of the wheels on the dusty road. miller loveday's plan, as far as he had formed any, was that robert and his wife should live with him in the millhouse until mrs. garland made up her mind to join him there; in which event her present house would be made over to the young couple. upon all grounds, he wished to welcome becomingly the woman of his son's choice, and came forward promptly as they drew up at the door. 'what a lovely place you've got here!' said miss johnson, when the miller had received her from the captain. 'a real stream of water, a real mill- wheel, and real fowls, and everything!' 'yes, 'tis real enough,' said loveday, looking at the river with balanced sentiments; 'and so you will say when you've lived here a bit as mis'ess, and had the trouble of claning the furniture.' at this miss johnson looked modest, and continued to do so till anne, not knowing they were there, came round the corner of the house, with her prayer-book in her hand, having just arrived from church. bob turned and smiled to her, at which miss johnson looked glum. how long she would have remained in that phase is unknown, for just then her ears were assailed by a loud bass note from the other side, causing her to jump round. 'o la! what dreadful thing is it?' she exclaimed, and beheld a cow of loveday's, of the name of crumpler, standing close to her shoulder. it being about milking-time, she had come to look up david and hasten on the operation. 'o, what a horrid bull!--it did frighten me so. i hope i shan't faint,' said matilda. the miller immediately used the formula which has been uttered by the proprietors of live stock ever since noah's time. 'she won't hurt ye. hoosh, crumpler! she's as timid as a mouse, ma'am.' but as crumpler persisted in making another terrific inquiry for david, matilda could not help closing her eyes and saying, 'o, i shall be gored to death!' her head falling back upon bob's shoulder, which--seeing the urgent circumstances, and knowing her delicate nature--he had providentially placed in a position to catch her. anne garland, who had been standing at the corner of the house, not knowing whether to go back or come on, at this felt her womanly sympathies aroused. she ran and dipped her handkerchief into the splashing mill-tail, and with it damped matilda's face. but as her eyes still remained closed, bob, to increase the effect, took the handkerchief from anne and wrung it out on the bridge of matilda's nose, whence it ran over the rest of her face in a stream. 'o, captain loveday!' said anne, 'the water is running over her green silk handkerchief, and into her pretty reticule!' 'there--if i didn't think so!' exclaimed matilda, opening her eyes, starting up, and promptly pulling out her own handkerchief, with which she wiped away the drops, and an unimportant trifle of her complexion, assisted by anne, who, in spite of her background of antagonistic emotions, could not help being interested. 'that's right!' said the miller, his spirits reviving with the revival of matilda. 'the lady is not used to country life; are you, ma'am?' 'i am not,' replied the sufferer. 'all is so strange about here!' suddenly there spread into the firmament, from the direction of the down:-- 'ra, ta, ta! ta-ta-ta-ta-ta! ra, ta, ta!' 'o dear, dear! more hideous country sounds, i suppose?' she inquired, with another start. 'o no,' said the miller cheerfully. ''tis only my son john's trumpeter chaps at the camp of dragoons just above us, a-blowing mess, or feed, or picket, or some other of their vagaries. john will be much pleased to tell you the meaning on't when he comes down. he's trumpet-major, as you may know, ma'am.' 'o yes; you mean captain loveday's brother. dear bob has mentioned him.' 'if you come round to widow garland's side of the house, you can see the camp,' said the miller. 'don't force her; she's tired with her long journey,' said mrs. garland humanely, the widow having come out in the general wish to see captain bob's choice. indeed, they all behaved towards her as if she were a tender exotic, which their crude country manners might seriously injure. she went into the house, accompanied by mrs. garland and her daughter; though before leaving bob she managed to whisper in his ear, 'don't tell them i came by waggon, will you, dear?'--a request which was quite needless, for bob had long ago determined to keep that a dead secret; not because it was an uncommon mode of travel, but simply that it was hardly the usual conveyance for a gorgeous lady to her bridal. as the men had a feeling that they would be superfluous indoors just at present, the miller assisted david in taking the horse round to the stables, bob following, and leaving matilda to the women. indoors, miss johnson admired everything: the new parrots and marmosets, the black beams of the ceiling, the double-corner cupboard with the glass doors, through which gleamed the remainders of sundry china sets acquired by bob's mother in her housekeeping--two-handled sugar-basins, no-handled tea-cups, a tea-pot like a pagoda, and a cream-jug in the form of a spotted cow. this sociability in their visitor was returned by mrs. garland and anne; and miss johnson's pleasing habit of partly dying whenever she heard any unusual bark or bellow added to her piquancy in their eyes. but conversation, as such, was naturally at first of a nervous, tentative kind, in which, as in the works of some minor poets, the sense was considerably led by the sound. 'you get the sea-breezes here, no doubt?' 'o yes, dear; when the wind is that way.' 'do you like windy weather?' 'yes; though not now, for it blows down the young apples.' 'apples are plentiful, it seems. you country-folk call st. swithin's their christening day, if it rains?' 'yes, dear. ah me! i have not been to a christening for these many years; the baby's name was george, i remember--after the king.' 'i hear that king george is still staying at the town here. i _hope_ he'll stay till i have seen him!' 'he'll wait till the corn turns yellow; he always does.' 'how _very_ fashionable yellow is getting for gloves just now!' 'yes. some persons wear them to the elbow, i hear.' 'do they? i was not aware of that. i struck my elbow last week so hard against the door of my aunt's mansion that i feel the ache now.' before they were quite overwhelmed by the interest of this discourse, the miller and bob came in. in truth, mrs. garland found the office in which he had placed her--that of introducing a strange woman to a house which was not the widow's own--a rather awkward one, and yet almost a necessity. there was no woman belonging to the house except that wondrous compendium of usefulness, the intermittent maid-servant, whom loveday had, for appearances, borrowed from mrs. garland, and mrs. garland was in the habit of borrowing from the girl's mother. and as for the demi-woman david, he had been informed as peremptorily as pharaoh's baker that the office of housemaid and bedmaker was taken from him, and would be given to this girl till the wedding was over, and bob's wife took the management into her own hands. they all sat down to high tea, anne and her mother included, and the captain sitting next to miss johnson. anne had put a brave face upon the matter--outwardly, at least--and seemed in a fair way of subduing any lingering sentiment which bob's return had revived. during the evening, and while they still sat over the meal, john came down on a hurried visit, as he had promised, ostensibly on purpose to be introduced to his intended sister-in-law, but much more to get a word and a smile from his beloved anne. before they saw him, they heard the trumpet-major's smart step coming round the corner of the house, and in a moment his form darkened the door. as it was sunday, he appeared in his full-dress laced coat, white waistcoat and breeches, and towering plume, the latter of which he instantly lowered, as much from necessity as good manners, the beam in the mill-house ceiling having a tendency to smash and ruin all such head-gear without warning. 'john, we've been hoping you would come down,' said the miller, 'and so we have kept the tay about on purpose. draw up, and speak to mrs. matilda johnson. . . . ma'am, this is robert's brother.' 'your humble servant, ma'am,' said the trumpet-major gallantly. as it was getting dusk in the low, small-paned room, he instinctively moved towards miss johnson as he spoke, who sat with her back to the window. he had no sooner noticed her features than his helmet nearly fell from his hand; his face became suddenly fixed, and his natural complexion took itself off, leaving a greenish yellow in its stead. the young person, on her part, had no sooner looked closely at him than she said weakly, 'robert's brother!' and changed colour yet more rapidly than the soldier had done. the faintness, previously half counterfeit, seized on her now in real earnest. 'i don't feel well,' she said, suddenly rising by an effort. 'this warm day has quite upset me!' there was a regular collapse of the tea-party, like that of the hamlet play scene. bob seized his sweetheart and carried her upstairs, the miller exclaiming, 'ah, she's terribly worn by the journey! i thought she was when i saw her nearly go off at the blare of the cow. no woman would have been frightened at that if she'd been up to her natural strength.' 'that, and being so very shy of men, too, must have made john's handsome regimentals quite overpowering to her, poor thing,' added mrs. garland, following the catastrophic young lady upstairs, whose indisposition was this time beyond question. and yet, by some perversity of the heart, she was as eager now to make light of her faintness as she had been to make much of it two or three hours ago. the miller and john stood like straight sticks in the room the others had quitted, john's face being hastily turned towards a caricature of buonaparte on the wall that he had not seen more than a hundred and fifty times before. 'come, sit down and have a dish of tea, anyhow,' said his father at last. 'she'll soon be right again, no doubt.' 'thanks; i don't want any tea,' said john quickly. and, indeed, he did not, for he was in one gigantic ache from head to foot. the light had been too dim for anybody to notice his amazement; and not knowing where to vent it, the trumpet-major said he was going out for a minute. he hastened to the bakehouse; but david being there, he went to the pantry; but the maid being there, he went to the cart-shed; but a couple of tramps being there, he went behind a row of french beans in the garden, where he let off an ejaculation the most pious that he had uttered that sabbath day: 'heaven! what's to be done!' and then he walked wildly about the paths of the dusky garden, where the trickling of the brooks seemed loud by comparison with the stillness around; treading recklessly on the cracking snails that had come forth to feed, and entangling his spurs in the long grass till the rowels were choked with its blades. presently he heard another person approaching, and his brother's shape appeared between the stubbard tree and the hedge. 'o, is it you?' said the mate. 'yes. i am--taking a little air.' 'she is getting round nicely again; and as i am not wanted indoors just now, i am going into the village to call upon a friend or two i have not been able to speak to as yet.' john took his brother bob's hand. bob rather wondered why. 'all right, old boy,' he said. 'going into the village? you'll be back again, i suppose, before it gets very late?' 'o yes,' said captain bob cheerfully, and passed out of the garden. john allowed his eyes to follow his brother till his shape could not be seen, and then he turned and again walked up and down. xviii. the night after the arrival john continued his sad and heavy pace till walking seemed too old and worn-out a way of showing sorrow so new, and he leant himself against the fork of an apple-tree like a log. there the trumpet-major remained for a considerable time, his face turned towards the house, whose ancient, many- chimneyed outline rose against the darkened sky, and just shut out from his view the camp above. but faint noises coming thence from horses restless at the pickets, and from visitors taking their leave, recalled its existence, and reminded him that, in consequence of matilda's arrival, he had obtained leave for the night--a fact which, owing to the startling emotions that followed his entry, he had not yet mentioned to his friends. while abstractedly considering how he could best use that privilege under the new circumstances which had arisen, he heard farmer derriman drive up to the front door and hold a conversation with his father. the old man had at last apparently brought the tin box of private papers that he wished the miller to take charge of during derriman's absence; and it being a calm night, john could hear, though he little heeded, uncle benjy's reiterated supplications to loveday to keep it safe from fire and thieves. then uncle benjy left, and john's father went upstairs to deposit the box in a place of security, the whole proceeding reaching john's preoccupied comprehension merely as voices during sleep. the next thing was the appearance of a light in the bedroom which had been assigned to matilda johnson. this effectually aroused the trumpet- major, and with a stealthiness unusual in him he went indoors. no light was in the lower rooms, his father, mrs. garland, and anne having gone out on the bridge to look at the new moon. john went upstairs on tip- toe, and along the uneven passage till he came to her door. it was standing ajar, a band of candlelight shining across the passage and up the opposite wall. as soon as he entered the radiance he saw her. she was standing before the looking-glass, apparently lost in thought, her fingers being clasped behind her head in abstraction, and the light falling full upon her face. 'i must speak to you,' said the trumpet-major. she started, turned and grew paler than before; and then, as if moved by a sudden impulse, she swung the door wide open, and, coming out, said quite collectedly and with apparent pleasantness, 'o yes; you are my bob's brother! i didn't, for a moment, recognize you.' 'but you do now?' 'as bob's brother.' 'you have not seen me before?' 'i have not,' she answered, with a face as impassible as talleyrand's. 'good god!' 'i have not!' she repeated. 'nor any of the --th dragoons? captain jolly, for instance?' 'no.' 'you mistake. i'll remind you of particulars,' he said drily. and he did remind her at some length. 'never!' she said desperately. but she had miscalculated her staying powers, and her adversary's character. five minutes after that she was in tears, and the conversation had resolved itself into words, which, on the soldier's part, were of the nature of commands, tempered by pity, and were a mere series of entreaties on hers. the whole scene did not last ten minutes. when it was over, the trumpet- major walked from the doorway where they had been standing, and brushed moisture from his eyes. reaching a dark lumber-room, he stood still there to calm himself, and then descended by a flemish-ladder to the bakehouse, instead of by the front stairs. he found that the others, including bob, had gathered in the parlour during his absence and lighted the candles. miss johnson, having sent down some time before john re-entered the house to say that she would prefer to keep her room that evening, was not expected to join them, and on this account bob showed less than his customary liveliness. the miller wishing to keep up his son's spirits, expressed his regret that, it being sunday night, they could have no songs to make the evening cheerful; when mrs. garland proposed that they should sing psalms which, by choosing lively tunes and not thinking of the words, would be almost as good as ballads. this they did, the trumpet-major appearing to join in with the rest; but as a matter of fact no sound came from his moving lips. his mind was in such a state that he derived no pleasure even from anne garland's presence, though he held a corner of the same book with her, and was treated in a winsome way which it was not her usual practice to indulge in. she saw that his mind was clouded, and, far from guessing the reason why, was doing her best to clear it. at length the garlands found that it was the hour for them to leave, and john loveday at the same time wished his father and bob good-night, and went as far as mrs. garland's door with her. he had said not a word to show that he was free to remain out of camp, for the reason that there was painful work to be done, which it would be best to do in secret and alone. he lingered near the house till its reflected window-lights ceased to glimmer upon the mill-pond, and all within the dwelling was dark and still. then he entered the garden and waited there till the back door opened, and a woman's figure timorously came forward. john loveday at once went up to her, and they began to talk in low yet dissentient tones. they had conversed about ten minutes, and were parting as if they had come to some painful arrangement, miss johnson sobbing bitterly, when a head stealthily arose above the dense hedgerow, and in a moment a shout burst from its owner. 'thieves! thieves!--my tin box!--thieves! thieves!' matilda vanished into the house, and john loveday hastened to the hedge. 'for heaven's sake, hold your tongue, mr. derriman!' he exclaimed. 'my tin box!' said uncle benjy. 'o, only the trumpet-major!' 'your box is safe enough, i assure you. it was only'--here the trumpet- major gave vent to an artificial laugh--'only a sly bit of courting, you know.' 'ha, ha, i see!' said the relieved old squireen. 'courting miss anne! then you've ousted my nephew, trumpet-major! well, so much the better. as for myself, the truth on't is that i haven't been able to go to bed easy, for thinking that possibly your father might not take care of what i put under his charge; and at last i thought i would just step over and see if all was safe here before i turned in. and when i saw your two shapes my poor nerves magnified ye to housebreakers, and boneys, and i don't know what all.' 'you have alarmed the house,' said the trumpet-major, hearing the clicking of flint and steel in his father's bedroom, followed in a moment by the rise of a light in the window of the same apartment. 'you have got me into difficulty,' he added gloomily, as his father opened the casement. 'i am sorry for that,' said uncle benjy. 'but step back; i'll put it all right again.' 'what, for heaven's sake, is the matter?' said the miller, his tasselled nightcap appearing in the opening. 'nothing, nothing!' said the farmer. 'i was uneasy about my few bonds and documents, and i walked this way, miller, before going to bed, as i start from home to-morrow morning. when i came down by your garden-hedge, i thought i saw thieves, but it turned out to be--to be--' here a lump of earth from the trumpet-major's hand struck uncle benjy in the back as a reminder. 'to be--the bough of a cherry-tree a-waving in the wind. good-night.' 'no thieves are like to try my house,' said miller loveday. 'now don't you come alarming us like this again, farmer, or you shall keep your box yourself, begging your pardon for saying so. good-night t' ye!' 'miller, will ye just look, since i am here--just look and see if the box is all right? there's a good man! i am old, you know, and my poor remains are not what my original self was. look and see if it is where you put it, there's a good, kind man.' 'very well,' said the miller good-humouredly. 'neighbour loveday! on second thoughts i will take my box home again, after all, if you don't mind. you won't deem it ill of me? i have no suspicion, of course; but now i think on't there's rivalry between my nephew and your son; and if festus should take it into his head to set your house on fire in his enmity, 'twould be bad for my deeds and documents. no offence, miller, but i'll take the box, if you don't mind.' 'faith! i don't mind,' said loveday. 'but your nephew had better think twice before he lets his enmity take that colour.' receding from the window, he took the candle to a back part of the room and soon reappeared with the tin box. 'i won't trouble ye to dress,' said derriman considerately; 'let en down by anything you have at hand.' the box was lowered by a cord, and the old man clasped it in his arms. 'thank ye!' he said with heartfelt gratitude. 'good-night!' the miller replied and closed the window, and the light went out. 'there, now i hope you are satisfied, sir?' said the trumpet-major. 'quite, quite!' said derriman; and, leaning on his walking-stick, he pursued his lonely way. that night anne lay awake in her bed, musing on the traits of the new friend who had come to her neighbour's house. she would not be critical, it was ungenerous and wrong; but she could not help thinking of what interested her. and were there, she silently asked, in miss johnson's mind and person such rare qualities as placed that lady altogether beyond comparison with herself? o yes, there must be; for had not captain bob singled out matilda from among all other women, herself included? of course, with his world-wide experience, he knew best. when the moon had set, and only the summer stars threw their light into the great damp garden, she fancied that she heard voices in that direction. perhaps they were the voices of bob and matilda taking a lover's walk before retiring. if so, how sleepy they would be next day, and how absurd it was of matilda to pretend she was tired! ruminating in this way, and saying to herself that she hoped they would be happy, anne fell asleep. xix. miss johnson's behaviour causes no little surprise partly from the excitement of having his matilda under the paternal roof, bob rose next morning as early as his father and the grinder, and, when the big wheel began to patter and the little ones to mumble in response, went to sun himself outside the mill-front, among the fowls of brown and speckled kinds which haunted that spot, and the ducks that came up from the mill-tail. standing on the worn-out mill-stone inlaid in the gravel, he talked with his father on various improvements of the premises, and on the proposed arrangements for his permanent residence there, with an enjoyment that was half based upon this prospect of the future, and half on the penetrating warmth of the sun to his back and shoulders. then the different troops of horses began their morning scramble down to the mill- pond, and, after making it very muddy round the edge, ascended the slope again. the bustle of the camp grew more and more audible, and presently david came to say that breakfast was ready. 'is miss johnson downstairs?' said the miller; and bob listened for the answer, looking at a blue sentinel aloft on the down. 'not yet, maister,' said the excellent david. 'we'll wait till she's down,' said loveday. 'when she is, let us know.' david went indoors again, and loveday and bob continued their morning survey by ascending into the mysterious quivering recesses of the mill, and holding a discussion over a second pair of burr-stones, which had to be re-dressed before they could be used again. this and similar things occupied nearly twenty minutes, and, looking from the window, the elder of the two was reminded of the time of day by seeing mrs. garland's table- cloth fluttering from her back door over the heads of a flock of pigeons that had alighted for the crumbs. 'i suppose david can't find us,' he said, with a sense of hunger that was not altogether strange to bob. he put out his head and shouted. 'the lady is not down yet,' said his man in reply. 'no hurry, no hurry,' said the miller, with cheerful emptiness. 'bob, to pass the time we'll look into the garden.' 'she'll get up sooner than this, you know, when she's signed articles and got a berth here,' bob observed apologetically. 'yes, yes,' said loveday; and they descended into the garden. here they turned over sundry flat stones and killed the slugs sheltered beneath them from the coming heat of the day, talking of slugs in all their branches--of the brown and the black, of the tough and the tender, of the reason why there were so many in the garden that year, of the coming time when the grass-walks harbouring them were to be taken up and gravel laid, and of the relatively exterminatory merits of a pair of scissors and the heel of the shoe. at last the miller said, 'well, really, bob, i'm hungry; we must begin without her.' they were about to go in, when david appeared with haste in his motions, his eyes wider vertically than crosswise, and his cheeks nearly all gone. 'maister, i've been to call her; and as 'a didn't speak i rapped, and as 'a didn't answer i kicked, and not being latched the door opened, and--she's gone!' bob went off like a swallow towards the house, and the miller followed like the rather heavy man that he was. that miss matilda was not in her room, or a scrap of anything belonging to her, was soon apparent. they searched every place in which she could possibly hide or squeeze herself, every place in which she could not, but found nothing at all. captain bob was quite wild with astonishment and grief. when he was quite sure that she was nowhere in his father's house, he ran into mrs. garland's, and telling them the story so hastily that they hardly understood the particulars, he went on towards comfort's house, intending to raise the alarm there, and also at mitchell's, beach's, cripplestraw's, the parson's, the clerk's, the camp of dragoons, of hussars, and so on through the whole county. but he paused, and thought it would be hardly expedient to publish his discomfiture in such a way. if matilda had left the house for any freakish reason he would not care to look for her, and if her deed had a tragic intent she would keep aloof from camp and village. in his trouble he thought of anne. she was a nice girl and could be trusted. to her he went, and found her in a state of excitement and anxiety which equalled his own. ''tis so lonely to cruise for her all by myself!' said bob disconsolately, his forehead all in wrinkles, 'and i've thought you would come with me and cheer the way?' 'where shall we search?' said anne. 'o, in the holes of rivers, you know, and down wells, and in quarries, and over cliffs, and like that. your eyes might catch the loom of any bit of a shawl or bonnet that i should overlook, and it would do me a real service. please do come!' so anne took pity upon him, and put on her hat and went, the miller and david having gone off in another direction. they examined the ditches of fields, bob going round by one fence and anne by the other, till they met at the opposite side. then they peeped under culverts, into outhouses, and down old wells and quarries, till the theory of a tragical end had nearly spent its force in bob's mind, and he began to think that matilda had simply run away. however, they still walked on, though by this time the sun was hot and anne would gladly have sat down. 'now, didn't you think highly of her, miss garland?' he inquired, as the search began to languish. 'o yes,' said anne, 'very highly.' 'she was really beautiful; no nonsense about her looks, was there?' 'none. her beauty was thoroughly ripe--not too young. we should all have got to love her. what can have possessed her to go away?' 'i don't know, and, upon my life, i shall soon be drove to say i don't care!' replied the mate despairingly. 'let me pilot ye down over those stones,' he added, as anne began to descend a rugged quarry. he stepped forward, leapt down, and turned to her. she gave him her hand and sprang down. before he relinquished his hold, captain bob raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them. 'o, captain loveday!' cried anne, snatching away her hand in genuine dismay, while a tear rose unexpectedly to each eye. 'i never heard of such a thing! i won't go an inch further with you, sir; it is too barefaced!' and she turned and ran off. 'upon my life i didn't mean it!' said the repentant captain, hastening after. 'i do love her best--indeed i do--and i don't love you at all! i am not so fickle as that! i merely just for the moment admired you as a sweet little craft, and that's how i came to do it. you know, miss garland,' he continued earnestly, and still running after, ''tis like this: when you come ashore after having been shut up in a ship for eighteen months, women-folks seem so new and nice that you can't help liking them, one and all in a body; and so your heart is apt to get scattered and to yaw a bit; but of course i think of poor matilda most, and shall always stick to her.' he heaved a sigh of tremendous magnitude, to show beyond the possibility of doubt that his heart was still in the place that honour required. 'i am glad to hear that--of course i am very glad!' said she, with quick petulance, keeping her face turned from him. 'and i hope we shall find her, and that the wedding will not be put off, and that you'll both be happy. but i won't look for her any more! no; i don't care to look for her--and my head aches. i am going home!' 'and so am i,' said robert promptly. 'no, no; go on looking for her, of course--all the afternoon, and all night. i am sure you will, if you love her.' 'o yes; i mean to. still, i ought to convoy you home first?' 'no, you ought not; and i shall not accept your company. good-morning, sir!' and she went off over one of the stone stiles with which the spot abounded, leaving the friendly sailor standing in the field. he sighed again, and, observing the camp not far off, thought he would go to his brother john and ask him his opinion on the sorrowful case. on reaching the tents he found that john was not at liberty just at that time, being engaged in practising the trumpeters; and leaving word that he wished the trumpet-major to come down to the mill as soon as possible, bob went back again. ''tis no good looking for her,' he said gloomily. 'she liked me well enough, but when she came here and saw the house, and the place, and the old horse, and the plain furniture, she was disappointed to find us all so homely, and felt she didn't care to marry into such a family!' his father and david had returned with no news. 'yes, 'tis as i've been thinking, father,' bob said. 'we weren't good enough for her, and she went away in scorn!' 'well, that can't be helped,' said the miller. 'what we be, we be, and have been for generations. to my mind she seemed glad enough to get hold of us!' 'yes, yes--for the moment--because of the flowers, and birds, and what's pretty in the place,' said bob tragically. 'but you don't know, father--how should you know, who have hardly been out of overcombe in your life?--you don't know what delicate feelings are in a real refined woman's mind. any little vulgar action unreaves their nerves like a marline-spike. now i wonder if you did anything to disgust her?' 'faith! not that i know of,' said loveday, reflecting. 'i didn't say a single thing that i should naturally have said, on purpose to give no offence.' 'you was always very homely, you know, father.' 'yes; so i was,' said the miller meekly. 'i wonder what it could have been,' bob continued, wandering about restlessly. 'you didn't go drinking out of the big mug with your mouth full, or wipe your lips with your sleeve?' 'that i'll swear i didn't!' said the miller firmly. 'thinks i, there's no knowing what i may do to shock her, so i'll take my solid victuals in the bakehouse, and only a crumb and a drop in her company for manners.' 'you could do no more than that, certainly,' said bob gently. 'if my manners be good enough for well-brought-up people like the garlands, they be good enough for her,' continued the miller, with a sense of injustice. 'that's true. then it must have been david. david, come here! how did you behave before that lady? now, mind you speak the truth!' 'yes, mr. captain robert,' said david earnestly. 'i assure ye she was served like a royal queen. the best silver spoons wez put down, and yer poor grandfer's silver tanket, as you seed, and the feather cushion for her to sit on--' 'now i've got it!' said bob decisively, bringing down his hand upon the window-sill. 'her bed was hard!--and there's nothing shocks a true lady like that. the bed in that room always was as hard as the rock of gibraltar!' 'no, captain bob! the beds were changed--wasn't they maister? we put the goose bed in her room, and the flock one, that used to be there, in yours.' 'yes, we did,' corroborated the miller. 'david and i changed 'em with our own hands, because they were too heavy for the women to move.' 'sure i didn't know i had the flock bed,' murmured bob. 'i slept on, little thinking what i was going to wake to. well, well, she's gone; and search as i will i shall never find another like her! she was too good for me. she must have carried her box with her own hands, poor girl. as far as that goes, i could overtake her even now, i dare say; but i won't entreat her against her will--not i.' miller loveday and david, feeling themselves to be rather a desecration in the presence of bob's sacred emotions, managed to edge off by degrees, the former burying himself in the most floury recesses of the mill, his invariable resource when perturbed, the rumbling having a soothing effect upon the nerves of those properly trained to its music. bob was so impatient that, after going up to her room to assure himself once more that she had not undressed, but had only lain down on the outside of the bed, he went out of the house to meet john, and waited on the sunny slope of the down till his brother appeared. john looked so brave and shapely and warlike that, even in bob's present distress, he could not but feel an honest and affectionate pride at owning such a relative. yet he fancied that john did not come along with the same swinging step he had shown yesterday; and when the trumpet-major got nearer he looked anxiously at the mate and waited for him to speak first. 'you know our great trouble, john?' said robert, gazing stoically into his brother's eyes. 'come and sit down, and tell me all about it,' answered the trumpet-major, showing no surprise. they went towards a slight ravine, where it was easier to sit down than on the flat ground, and here john reclined among the grasshoppers, pointing to his brother to do the same. 'but do you know what it is?' said robert. 'has anybody told ye?' 'i do know,' said john. 'she's gone; and i am thankful!' 'what!' said bob, rising to his knees in amazement. 'i'm at the bottom of it,' said the trumpet-major slowly. 'you, john?' 'yes; and if you will listen i'll tell you all. do you remember what happened when i came into the room last night? why, she turned colour and nearly fainted away. that was because she knew me.' bob stared at his brother with a face of pain and distrust. 'for once, bob, i must say something that will hurt thee a good deal,' continued john. 'she was not a woman who could possibly be your wife--and so she's gone.' 'you sent her off?' 'well, i did.' 'john!--tell me right through--tell me!' 'perhaps i had better,' said the trumpet-major, his blue eyes resting on the far distant sea, that seemed to rise like a wall as high as the hill they sat upon. and then he told a tale of miss johnson and the --th dragoons which wrung his heart as much in the telling as it did bob's to hear, and which showed that john had been temporarily cruel to be ultimately kind. even bob, excited as he was, could discern from john's manner of speaking what a terrible undertaking that night's business had been for him. to justify the course he had adopted the dictates of duty must have been imperative; but the trumpet-major, with a becoming reticence which his brother at the time was naturally unable to appreciate, scarcely dwelt distinctly enough upon the compelling cause of his conduct. it would, indeed, have been hard for any man, much less so modest a one as john, to do himself justice in that remarkable relation, when the listener was the lady's lover; and it is no wonder that robert rose to his feet and put a greater distance between himself and john. 'and what time was it?' he asked in a hard, suppressed voice. 'it was just before one o'clock.' 'how could you help her to go away?' 'i had a pass. i carried her box to the coach-office. she was to follow at dawn.' 'but she had no money.' 'yes, she had; i took particular care of that.' john did not add, as he might have done, that he had given her, in his pity, all the money he possessed, and at present had only eighteen-pence in the world. 'well, it is over, bob; so sit ye down, and talk with me of old times,' he added. 'ah, jack, it is well enough for you to speak like that,' said the disquieted sailor; 'but i can't help feeling that it is a cruel thing you have done. after all, she would have been snug enough for me. would i had never found out this about her! john, why did you interfere? you had no right to overhaul my affairs like this. why didn't you tell me fairly all you knew, and let me do as i chose? you have turned her out of the house, and it's a shame! if she had only come to me! why didn't she?' 'because she knew it was best to do otherwise.' 'well, i shall go after her,' said bob firmly. 'you can do as you like,' said john; 'but i would advise you strongly to leave matters where they are.' 'i won't leave matters where they are,' said bob impetuously. 'you have made me miserable, and all for nothing. i tell you she was good enough for me; and as long as i knew nothing about what you say of her history, what difference would it have made to me? never was there a young woman who was better company; and she loved a merry song as i do myself. yes, i'll follow her.' 'o, bob,' said john; 'i hardly expected this!' 'that's because you didn't know your man. can i ask you to do me one kindness? i don't suppose i can. can i ask you not to say a word against her to any of them at home?' 'certainly. the very reason why i got her to go off silently, as she has done, was because nothing should be said against her here, and no scandal should be heard of.' 'that may be; but i'm off after her. marry that girl i will.' 'you'll be sorry.' 'that we shall see,' replied robert with determination; and he went away rapidly towards the mill. the trumpet-major had no heart to follow--no good could possibly come of further opposition; and there on the down he remained like a graven image till bob had vanished from his sight into the mill. bob entered his father's only to leave word that he was going on a renewed search for matilda, and to pack up a few necessaries for his journey. ten minutes later he came out again with a bundle in his hand, and john saw him go diagonally across the lower fields towards the high- road. 'and this is all the good i have done!' said john, musingly readjusting his stock where it cut his neck, and descending towards the mill. xx. how they lessened the effect of the calamity meanwhile anne garland had gone home, and, being weary with her ramble in search of matilda, sat silent in a corner of the room. her mother was passing the time in giving utterance to every conceivable surmise on the cause of miss johnson's disappearance that the human mind could frame, to which anne returned monosyllabic answers, the result, not of indifference, but of intense preoccupation. presently loveday, the father, came to the door; her mother vanished with him, and they remained closeted together a long time. anne went into the garden and seated herself beneath the branching tree whose boughs had sheltered her during so many hours of her residence here. her attention was fixed more upon the miller's wing of the irregular building before her than upon that occupied by her mother, for she could not help expecting every moment to see some one run out with a wild face and announce some awful clearing up of the mystery. every sound set her on the alert, and hearing the tread of a horse in the lane she looked round eagerly. gazing at her over the hedge was festus derriman, mounted on such an incredibly tall animal that he could see to her very feet over the thick and broad thorn fence. she no sooner recognized him than she withdrew her glance; but as his eyes were fixed steadily upon her this was a futile manoeuvre. 'i saw you look round!' he exclaimed crossly. 'what have i done to make you behave like that? come, miss garland, be fair. 'tis no use to turn your back upon me.' as she did not turn he went on--'well, now, this is enough to provoke a saint. now i tell you what, miss garland; here i'll stay till you do turn round, if 'tis all the afternoon. you know my temper--what i say i mean.' he seated himself firmly in the saddle, plucked some leaves from the hedge, and began humming a song, to show how absolutely indifferent he was to the flight of time. 'what have you come for, that you are so anxious to see me?' inquired anne, when at last he had wearied her patience, rising and facing him with the added independence which came from a sense of the hedge between them. 'there, i knew you would turn round!' he said, his hot angry face invaded by a smile in which his teeth showed like white hemmed in by red at chess. 'what do you want, mr. derriman?' said she. '"what do you want, mr. derriman?"--now listen to that! is that my encouragement?' anne bowed superciliously, and moved away. 'i have just heard news that explains all that,' said the giant, eyeing her movements with somnolent irascibility. 'my uncle has been letting things out. he was here late last night, and he saw you.' 'indeed he didn't,' said anne. 'o, now! he saw trumpet-major loveday courting somebody like you in that garden walk; and when he came you ran indoors.' 'it is not true, and i wish to hear no more.' 'upon my life, he said so! how can you do it, miss garland, when i, who have enough money to buy up all the lovedays, would gladly come to terms with ye? what a simpleton you must be, to pass me over for him! there, now you are angry because i said simpleton!--i didn't mean simpleton, i meant misguided--misguided rosebud! that's it--run off,' he continued in a raised voice, as anne made towards the garden door. 'but i'll have you yet. much reason you have to be too proud to stay with me. but it won't last long; i shall marry you, madam, if i choose, as you'll see.' when he was quite gone, and anne had calmed down from the not altogether unrelished fear and excitement that he always caused her, she returned to her seat under the tree, and began to wonder what festus derriman's story meant, which, from the earnestness of his tone, did not seem like a pure invention. it suddenly flashed upon her mind that she herself had heard voices in the garden, and that the persons seen by farmer derriman, of whose visit and reclamation of his box the miller had told her, might have been matilda and john loveday. she further recalled the strange agitation of miss johnson on the preceding evening, and that it occurred just at the entry of the dragoon, till by degrees suspicion amounted to conviction that he knew more than any one else supposed of that lady's disappearance. it was just at this time that the trumpet-major descended to the mill after his talk with his brother on the down. as fate would have it, instead of entering the house he turned aside to the garden and walked down that pleasant enclosure, to learn if he were likely to find in the other half of it the woman he loved so well. yes, there she was, sitting on the seat of logs that he had repaired for her, under the apple-tree; but she was not facing in his direction. he walked with a noisier tread, he coughed, he shook a bough, he did everything, in short, but the one thing that festus did in the same circumstances--call out to her. he would not have ventured on that for the world. any of his signs would have been sufficient to attract her a day or two earlier; now she would not turn. at last, in his fond anxiety, he did what he had never done before without an invitation, and crossed over into mrs. garland's half of the garden, till he stood before her. when she could not escape him she arose, and, saying 'good afternoon, trumpet-major,' in a glacial manner unusual with her, walked away to another part of the garden. loveday, quite at a loss, had not the strength of mind to persevere further. he had a vague apprehension that some imperfect knowledge of the previous night's unhappy business had reached her; and, unable to remedy the evil without telling more than he dared, he went into the mill, where his father still was, looking doleful enough, what with his concern at events and the extra quantity of flour upon his face through sticking so closely to business that day. 'well, john; bob has told you all, of course? a queer, strange, perplexing thing, isn't it? i can't make it out at all. there must be something wrong in the woman, or it couldn't have happened. i haven't been so upset for years.' 'nor have i. i wouldn't it should have happened for all i own in the world,' said the dragoon. 'have you spoke to anne garland to-day--or has anybody been talking to her?' 'festus derriman rode by half-an-hour ago, and talked to her over the hedge.' john guessed the rest, and, after standing on the threshold in silence awhile, walked away towards the camp. all this time his brother robert had been hastening along in pursuit of the woman who had withdrawn from the scene to avoid the exposure and complete overthrow which would have resulted had she remained. as the distance lengthened between himself and the mill, bob was conscious of some cooling down of the excitement that had prompted him to set out; but he did not pause in his walk till he had reached the head of the river which fed the mill-stream. here, for some indefinite reason, he allowed his eyes to be attracted by the bubbling spring whose waters never failed or lessened, and he stopped as if to look longer at the scene; it was really because his mind was so absorbed by john's story. the sun was warm, the spot was a pleasant one, and he deposited his bundle and sat down. by degrees, as he reflected, first on john's view and then on his own, his convictions became unsettled; till at length he was so balanced between the impulse to go on and the impulse to go back, that a puff of wind either way would have been well-nigh sufficient to decide for him. when he allowed john's story to repeat itself in his ears, the reasonableness and good sense of his advice seemed beyond question. when, on the other hand, he thought of his poor matilda's eyes, and her, to him, pleasant ways, their charming arrangements to marry, and her probable willingness still, he could hardly bring himself to do otherwise than follow on the road at the top of his speed. this strife of thought was so well maintained that sitting and standing, he remained on the borders of the spring till the shadows had stretched out eastwards, and the chance of overtaking matilda had grown considerably less. still he did not positively go towards home. at last he took a guinea from his pocket, and resolved to put the question to the hazard. 'heads i go; tails i don't.' the piece of gold spun in the air and came down heads. 'no, i won't go, after all,' he said. 'i won't be steered by accidents any more.' he picked up his bundle and switch, and retraced his steps towards overcombe mill, knocking down the brambles and nettles as he went with gloomy and indifferent blows. when he got within sight of the house he beheld david in the road. 'all right--all right again, captain!', shouted that retainer. 'a wedding after all! hurrah!' 'ah--she's back again?' cried bob, seizing david, ecstatically, and dancing round with him. 'no--but it's all the same! it is of no consequence at all, and no harm will be done! maister and mrs. garland have made up a match, and mean to marry at once, that the wedding victuals may not be wasted! they felt 'twould be a thousand pities to let such good things get blue-vinnied for want of a ceremony to use 'em upon, and at last they have thought of this.' 'victuals--i don't care for the victuals!' bitterly cried bob, in a tone of far higher thought. 'how you disappoint me!' and he went slowly towards the house. his father appeared in the opening of the mill-door, looking more cheerful than when they had parted. 'what, robert, you've been after her?' he said. 'faith, then, i wouldn't have followed her if i had been as sure as you were that she went away in scorn of us. since you told me that, i have not looked for her at all.' 'i was wrong, father,' bob replied gravely, throwing down his bundle and stick. 'matilda, i find, has not gone away in scorn of us; she has gone away for other reasons. i followed her some way; but i have come back again. she may go.' 'why is she gone?' said the astonished miller. bob had intended, for matilda's sake, to give no reason to a living soul for her departure. but he could not treat his father thus reservedly; and he told. 'she has made great fools of us,' said the miller deliberately; 'and she might have made us greater ones. bob, i thought th' hadst more sense.' 'well, don't say anything against her, father,' implored bob. ''twas a sorry haul, and there's an end on't. let her down quietly, and keep the secret. you promise that?' 'i do.' loveday the elder remained thinking awhile, and then went on--'well, what i was going to say is this: i've hit upon a plan to get out of the awkward corner she has put us in. what you'll think of it i can't say.' 'david has just given me the heads.' 'and do it hurt your feelings, my son, at such a time?' 'no--i'll bring myself to bear it, anyhow! why should i object to other people's happiness because i have lost my own?' said bob, with saintly self-sacrifice in his air. 'well said!' answered the miller heartily. 'but you may be sure that there will be no unseemly rejoicing, to disturb ye in your present frame of mind. all the morning i felt more ashamed than i cared to own at the thought of how the neighbours, great and small, would laugh at what they would call your folly, when they knew what had happened; so i resolved to take this step to stave it off, if so be 'twas possible. and when i saw mrs. garland i knew i had done right. she pitied me so much for having had the house cleaned in vain, and laid in provisions to waste, that it put her into the humour to agree. we mean to do it right off at once, afore the pies and cakes get mouldy and the blackpot stale. 'twas a good thought of mine and hers, and i am glad 'tis settled,' he concluded cheerfully. 'poor matilda!' murmured bob. 'there--i was afraid 'twould hurt thy feelings,' said the miller, with self-reproach: 'making preparations for thy wedding, and using them for my own!' 'no,' said bob heroically; 'it shall not. it will be a great comfort in my sorrow to feel that the splendid grub, and the ale, and your stunning new suit of clothes, and the great table-cloths you've bought, will be just as useful now as if i had married myself. poor matilda! but you won't expect me to join in--you hardly can. i can sheer off that day very easily, you know.' 'nonsense, bob!' said the miller reproachfully. 'i couldn't stand it--i should break down.' 'deuce take me if i would have asked her, then, if i had known 'twas going to drive thee out of the house! now, come, bob, i'll find a way of arranging it and sobering it down, so that it shall be as melancholy as you can require--in short, just like a funeral, if thou'lt promise to stay?' 'very well,' said the afflicted one. 'on that condition i'll stay.' xxi. 'upon the hill he turned' having entered into this solemn compact with his son, the elder loveday's next action was to go to mrs. garland, and ask her how the toning down of the wedding had best be done. 'it is plain enough that to make merry just now would be slighting bob's feelings, as if we didn't care who was not married, so long as we were,' he said. 'but then, what's to be done about the victuals?' 'give a dinner to the poor folk,' she suggested. 'we can get everything used up that way.' 'that's true' said the miller. 'there's enough of 'em in these times to carry off any extras whatsoever.' 'and it will save bob's feelings wonderfully. and they won't know that the dinner was got for another sort of wedding and another sort of guests; so you'll have their good-will for nothing.' the miller smiled at the subtlety of the view. 'that can hardly be called fair,' he said. 'still, i did mean some of it for them, for the friends we meant to ask would not have cleared all.' upon the whole the idea pleased him well, particularly when he noticed the forlorn look of his sailor son as he walked about the place, and pictured the inevitably jarring effect of fiddles and tambourines upon bob's shattered nerves at such a crisis, even if the notes of the former were dulled by the application of a mute, and bob shut up in a distant bedroom--a plan which had at first occurred to him. he therefore told bob that the surcharged larder was to be emptied by the charitable process above alluded to, and hoped he would not mind making himself useful in such a good and gloomy work. bob readily fell in with the scheme, and it was at once put in hand and the tables spread. the alacrity with which the substituted wedding was carried out, seemed to show that the worthy pair of neighbours would have joined themselves into one long ago, had there previously occurred any domestic incident dictating such a step as an apposite expedient, apart from their personal wish to marry. the appointed morning came, and the service quietly took place at the cheerful hour of ten, in the face of a triangular congregation, of which the base was the front pew, and the apex the west door. mrs. garland dressed herself in the muslin shawl like queen charlotte's, that bob had brought home, and her best plum-coloured gown, beneath which peeped out her shoes with red rosettes. anne was present, but she considerately toned herself down, so as not to too seriously damage her mother's appearance. at moments during the ceremony she had a distressing sense that she ought not to be born, and was glad to get home again. the interest excited in the village, though real, was hardly enough to bring a serious blush to the face of coyness. neighbours' minds had become so saturated by the abundance of showy military and regal incident lately vouchsafed to them, that the wedding of middle-aged civilians was of small account, excepting in so far that it solved the question whether or not mrs. garland would consider herself too genteel to mate with a grinder of corn. in the evening, loveday's heart was made glad by seeing the baked and boiled in rapid process of consumption by the kitchenful of people assembled for that purpose. three-quarters of an hour were sufficient to banish for ever his fears as to spoilt food. the provisions being the cause of the assembly, and not its consequence, it had been determined to get all that would not keep consumed on that day, even if highways and hedges had to be searched for operators. and, in addition to the poor and needy, every cottager's daughter known to the miller was invited, and told to bring her lover from camp--an expedient which, for letting daylight into the inside of full platters, was among the most happy ever known. while mr. and mrs. loveday, anne, and bob were standing in the parlour, discussing the progress of the entertainment in the next room, john, who had not been down all day, entered the house and looked in upon them through the open door. 'how's this, john? why didn't you come before?' 'had to see the captain, and--other duties,' said the trumpet-major, in a tone which showed no great zeal for explanations. 'well, come in, however,' continued the miller, as his son remained with his hand on the door-post, surveying them reflectively. 'i cannot stay long,' said john, advancing. 'the route is come, and we are going away.' 'going away! where to?' 'to exonbury.' 'when?' 'friday morning.' 'all of you?' 'yes; some to-morrow and some next day. the king goes next week.' 'i am sorry for this,' said the miller, not expressing half his sorrow by the simple utterance. 'i wish you could have been here to-day, since this is the case,' he added, looking at the horizon through the window. mrs. loveday also expressed her regret, which seemed to remind the trumpet-major of the event of the day, and he went to her and tried to say something befitting the occasion. anne had not said that she was either sorry or glad, but john loveday fancied that she had looked rather relieved than otherwise when she heard his news. his conversation with bob on the down made bob's manner, too, remarkably cool, notwithstanding that he had after all followed his brother's advice, which it was as yet too soon after the event for him to rightly value. john did not know why the sailor had come back, never supposing that it was because he had thought better of going, and said to him privately, 'you didn't overtake her?' 'i didn't try to,' said bob. 'and you are not going to?' 'no; i shall let her drift.' 'i am glad indeed, bob; you have been wise,' said john heartily. bob, however, still loved matilda too well to be other than dissatisfied with john and the event that he had precipitated, which the elder brother only too promptly perceived; and it made his stay that evening of short duration. before leaving he said with some hesitation to his father, including anne and her mother by his glance, 'do you think to come up and see us off?' the miller answered for them all, and said that of course they would come. 'but you'll step down again between now and then?' he inquired. 'i'll try to.' he added after a pause, 'in case i should not, remember that revalley will sound at half past five; we shall leave about eight. next summer, perhaps, we shall come and camp here again.' 'i hope so,' said his father and mrs. loveday. there was something in john's manner which indicated to anne that he scarcely intended to come down again; but the others did not notice it, and she said nothing. he departed a few minutes later, in the dusk of the august evening, leaving anne still in doubt as to the meaning of his private meeting with miss johnson. john loveday had been going to tell them that on the last night, by an especial privilege, it would be in his power to come and stay with them until eleven o'clock, but at the moment of leaving he abandoned the intention. anne's attitude had chilled him, and made him anxious to be off. he utilized the spare hours of that last night in another way. this was by coming down from the outskirts of the camp in the evening, and seating himself near the brink of the mill-pond as soon as it was quite dark; where he watched the lights in the different windows till one appeared in anne's bedroom, and she herself came forward to shut the casement, with the candle in her hand. the light shone out upon the broad and deep mill-head, illuminating to a distinct individuality every moth and gnat that entered the quivering chain of radiance stretching across the water towards him, and every bubble or atom of froth that floated into its width. she stood for some time looking out, little thinking what the darkness concealed on the other side of that wide stream; till at length she closed the casement, drew the curtains, and retreated into the room. presently the light went out, upon which john loveday returned to camp and lay down in his tent. the next morning was dull and windy, and the trumpets of the --th sounded reveille for the last time on overcombe down. knowing that the dragoons were going away, anne had slept heedfully, and was at once awakened by the smart notes. she looked out of the window, to find that the miller was already astir, his white form being visible at the end of his garden, where he stood motionless, watching the preparations. anne also looked on as well as she could through the dim grey gloom, and soon she saw the blue smoke from the cooks' fires creeping fitfully along the ground, instead of rising in vertical columns, as it had done during the fine weather season. then the men began to carry their bedding to the waggons, and others to throw all refuse into the trenches, till the down was lively as an ant-hill. anne did not want to see john loveday again, but hearing the household astir, she began to dress at leisure, looking out at the camp the while. when the soldiers had breakfasted, she saw them selling and giving away their superfluous crockery to the natives who had clustered round; and then they pulled down and cleared away the temporary kitchens which they had constructed when they came. a tapping of tent-pegs and wriggling of picket-posts followed, and soon the cones of white canvas, now almost become a component part of the landscape, fell to the ground. at this moment the miller came indoors and asked at the foot of the stairs if anybody was going up the hill with him. anne felt that, in spite of the cloud hanging over john in her mind, it would ill become the present moment not to see him off, and she went downstairs to her mother, who was already there, though bob was nowhere to be seen. each took an arm of the miller, and thus climbed to the top of the hill. by this time the men and horses were at the place of assembly, and, shortly after the mill-party reached level ground, the troops slowly began to move forward. when the trumpet-major, half buried in his uniform, arms, and horse-furniture, drew near to the spot where the lovedays were waiting to see him pass, his father turned anxiously to anne and said, 'you will shake hands with john?' anne faintly replied 'yes,' and allowed the miller to take her forward on his arm to the trackway, so as to be close to the flank of the approaching column. it came up, many people on each side grasping the hands of the troopers in bidding them farewell; and as soon as john loveday saw the members of his father's household, he stretched down his hand across his right pistol for the same performance. the miller gave his, then mrs. loveday gave hers, and then the hand of the trumpet-major was extended towards anne. but as the horse did not absolutely stop, it was a somewhat awkward performance for a young woman to undertake, and, more on that account than on any other, anne drew back, and the gallant trooper passed by without receiving her adieu. anne's heart reproached her for a moment; and then she thought that, after all, he was not going off to immediate battle, and that she would in all probability see him again at no distant date, when she hoped that the mystery of his conduct would be explained. her thoughts were interrupted by a voice at her elbow: 'thank heaven, he's gone! now there's a chance for me.' she turned, and festus derriman was standing by her. 'there's no chance for you,' she said indignantly. 'why not?' 'because there's another left!' the words had slipped out quite unintentionally, and she blushed quickly. she would have given anything to be able to recall them; but he had heard, and said, 'who?' anne went forward to the miller to avoid replying, and festus caught her no more. 'has anybody been hanging about overcombe mill except loveday's son the soldier?' he asked of a comrade. 'his son the sailor,' was the reply. 'o--his son the sailor,' said festus slowly. 'damn his son the sailor!' xxii. the two households united at this particular moment the object of festus derriman's fulmination was assuredly not dangerous as a rival. bob, after abstractedly watching the soldiers from the front of the house till they were out of sight, had gone within doors and seated himself in the mill-parlour, where his father found him, his elbows resting on the table and his forehead on his hands, his eyes being fixed upon a document that lay open before him. 'what art perusing, bob, with such a long face?' bob sighed, and then mrs. loveday and anne entered. ''tis only a state- paper that i fondly thought i should have a use for,' he said gloomily. and, looking down as before, he cleared his voice, as if moved inwardly to go on, and began to read in feeling tones from what proved to be his nullified marriage licence:-- '"timothy titus philemon, by permission bishop of bristol: to our well- beloved robert loveday, of the parish of overcombe, bachelor; and matilda johnson, of the same parish, spinster. greeting."' here anne sighed, but contrived to keep down her sigh to a mere nothing. 'beautiful language, isn't it!' said bob. 'i was never greeted like that afore!' 'yes; i have often thought it very excellent language myself,' said mrs. loveday. 'come to that, the old gentleman will greet thee like it again any day for a couple of guineas,' said the miller. 'that's not the point, father! you never could see the real meaning of these things. . . . well, then he goes on: "whereas ye are, as it is alleged, determined to enter into the holy estate of matrimony--" but why should i read on? it all means nothing now--nothing, and the splendid words are all wasted upon air. it seems as if i had been hailed by some venerable hoary prophet, and had turned away, put the helm hard up, and wouldn't hear.' nobody replied, feeling probably that sympathy could not meet the case, and bob went on reading the rest of it to himself, occasionally heaving a breath like the wind in a ship's shrouds. 'i wouldn't set my mind so much upon her, if i was thee,' said his father at last. 'why not?' 'well, folk might call thee a fool, and say thy brains were turning to water.' bob was apparently much struck by this thought, and, instead of continuing the discourse further, he carefully folded up the licence, went out, and walked up and down the garden. it was startlingly apt what his father had said; and, worse than that, what people would call him might be true, and the liquefaction of his brains turn out to be no fable. by degrees he became much concerned, and the more he examined himself by this new light the more clearly did he perceive that he was in a very bad way. on reflection he remembered that since miss johnson's departure his appetite had decreased amazingly. he had eaten in meat no more than fourteen or fifteen ounces a day, but one-third of a quartern pudding on an average, in vegetables only a small heap of potatoes and half a york cabbage, and no gravy whatever; which, considering the usual appetite of a seaman for fresh food at the end of a long voyage, was no small index of the depression of his mind. then he had waked once every night, and on one occasion twice. while dressing each morning since the gloomy day he had not whistled more than seven bars of a hornpipe without stopping and falling into thought of a most painful kind; and he had told none but absolutely true stories of foreign parts to the neighbouring villagers when they saluted and clustered about him, as usual, for anything he chose to pour forth--except that story of the whale whose eye was about as large as the round pond in derriman's ewe-lease--which was like tempting fate to set a seal for ever upon his tongue as a traveller. all this enervation, mental and physical, had been produced by matilda's departure. he also considered what he had lost of the rational amusements of manhood during these unfortunate days. he might have gone to the neighbouring fashionable resort every afternoon, stood before gloucester lodge till the king and queen came out, held his hat in his hand, and enjoyed their majesties' smiles at his homage all for nothing--watched the picket-mounting, heard the different bands strike up, observed the staff; and, above all, have seen the pretty town girls go trip-trip-trip along the esplanade, deliberately fixing their innocent eyes on the distant sea, the grey cliffs, and the sky, and accidentally on the soldiers and himself. 'i'll raze out her image,' he said. 'she shall make a fool of me no more.' and his resolve resulted in conduct which had elements of real greatness. he went back to his father, whom he found in the mill-loft. ''tis true, father, what you say,' he observed: 'my brains will turn to bilge-water if i think of her much longer. by the oath of a--navigator, i wish i could sigh less and laugh more! she's gone--why can't i let her go, and be happy? but how begin?' 'take it careless, my son,' said the miller, 'and lay yourself out to enjoy snacks and cordials.' 'ah--that's a thought!' said bob. 'baccy is good for't. so is sperrits. though i don't advise thee to drink neat.' 'baccy--i'd almost forgot it!' said captain loveday. he went to his room, hastily untied the package of tobacco that he had brought home, and began to make use of it in his own way, calling to david for a bottle of the old household mead that had lain in the cellar these eleven years. he was discovered by his father three-quarters of an hour later as a half-invisible object behind a cloud of smoke. the miller drew a breath of relief. 'why, bob,' he said, 'i thought the house was a-fire!' 'i'm smoking rather fast to drown my reflections, father. 'tis no use to chaw.' to tempt his attenuated appetite the unhappy mate made david cook an omelet and bake a seed-cake, the latter so richly compounded that it opened to the knife like a freckled buttercup. with the same object he stuck night-lines into the banks of the mill-pond, and drew up next morning a family of fat eels, some of which were skinned and prepared for his breakfast. they were his favourite fish, but such had been his condition that, until the moment of making this effort, he had quite forgotten their existence at his father's back-door. in a few days bob loveday had considerably improved in tone and vigour. one other obvious remedy for his dejection was to indulge in the society of miss garland, love being so much more effectually got rid of by displacement than by attempted annihilation. but loveday's belief that he had offended her beyond forgiveness, and his ever-present sense of her as a woman who by education and antecedents was fitted to adorn a higher sphere than his own, effectually kept him from going near her for a long time, notwithstanding that they were inmates of one house. the reserve was, however, in some degree broken by the appearance one morning, later in the season, of the point of a saw through the partition which divided anne's room from the loveday half of the house. though she dined and supped with her mother and the loveday family, miss garland had still continued to occupy her old apartments, because she found it more convenient there to pursue her hobbies of wool-work and of copying her father's old pictures. the division wall had not as yet been broken down. as the saw worked its way downwards under her astonished gaze anne jumped up from her drawing; and presently the temporary canvasing and papering which had sealed up the old door of communication was cut completely through. the door burst open, and bob stood revealed on the other side, with the saw in his hand. 'i beg your ladyship's pardon,' he said, taking off the hat he had been working in, as his handsome face expanded into a smile. 'i didn't know this door opened into your private room.' 'indeed, captain loveday!' 'i am pulling down the division on principle, as we are now one family. but i really thought the door opened into your passage.' 'it don't matter; i can get another room.' 'not at all. father wouldn't let me turn you out. i'll close it up again.' but anne was so interested in the novelty of a new doorway that she walked through it, and found herself in a dark low passage which she had never seen before. 'it leads to the mill,' said bob. 'would you like to go in and see it at work? but perhaps you have already.' 'only into the ground floor.' 'come all over it. i am practising as grinder, you know, to help my father.' she followed him along the dark passage, in the side of which he opened a little trap, when she saw a great slimy cavern, where the long arms of the mill-wheel flung themselves slowly and distractedly round, and splashing water-drops caught the little light that strayed into the gloomy place, turning it into stars and flashes. a cold mist-laden puff of air came into their faces, and the roar from within made it necessary for anne to shout as she said, 'it is dismal! let us go on.' bob shut the trap, the roar ceased, and they went on to the inner part of the mill, where the air was warm and nutty, and pervaded by a fog of flour. then they ascended the stairs, and saw the stones lumbering round and round, and the yellow corn running down through the hopper. they climbed yet further to the top stage, where the wheat lay in bins, and where long rays like feelers stretched in from the sun through the little window, got nearly lost among cobwebs and timber, and completed their course by marking the opposite wall with a glowing patch of gold. in his earnestness as an exhibitor bob opened the bolter, which was spinning rapidly round, the result being that a dense cloud of flour rolled out in their faces, reminding anne that her complexion was probably much paler by this time than when she had entered the mill. she thanked her companion for his trouble, and said she would now go down. he followed her with the same deference as hitherto, and with a sudden and increasing sense that of all cures for his former unhappy passion this would have been the nicest, the easiest, and the most effectual, if he had only been fortunate enough to keep her upon easy terms. but miss garland showed no disposition to go further than accept his services as a guide; she descended to the open air, shook the flour from her like a bird, and went on into the garden amid the september sunshine, whose rays lay level across the blue haze which the earth gave forth. the gnats were dancing up and down in airy companies, the nasturtium flowers shone out in groups from the dark hedge over which they climbed, and the mellow smell of the decline of summer was exhaled by everything. bob followed her as far as the gate, looked after her, thought of her as the same girl who had half encouraged him years ago, when she seemed so superior to him; though now they were almost equal she apparently thought him beneath her. it was with a new sense of pleasure that his mind flew to the fact that she was now an inmate of his father's house. his obsequious bearing was continued during the next week. in the busy hours of the day they seldom met, but they regularly encountered each other at meals, and these cheerful occasions began to have an interest for him quite irrespective of dishes and cups. when anne entered and took her seat she was always loudly hailed by miller loveday as he whetted his knife; but from bob she condescended to accept no such familiar greeting, and they often sat down together as if each had a blind eye in the direction of the other. bob sometimes told serious and correct stories about sea-captains, pilots, boatswains, mates, able seamen, and other curious fauna of the marine world; but these were directly addressed to his father and mrs. loveday, anne being included at the clinching-point by a glance only. he sometimes opened bottles of sweet cider for her, and then she thanked him; but even this did not lead to her encouraging his chat. one day when anne was paring an apple she was left at table with the young man. 'i have made something for you,' he said. she looked all over the table; nothing was there save the ordinary remnants. 'o i don't mean that it is here; it is out by the bridge at the mill-head.' he arose, and anne followed with curiosity in her eyes, and with her firm little mouth pouted up to a puzzled shape. on reaching the mossy mill- head she found that he had fixed in the keen damp draught which always prevailed over the wheel an aeolian harp of large size. at present the strings were partly covered with a cloth. he lifted it, and the wires began to emit a weird harmony which mingled curiously with the plashing of the wheel. 'i made it on purpose for you, miss garland,' he said. she thanked him very warmly, for she had never seen anything like such an instrument before, and it interested her. 'it was very thoughtful of you to make it,' she added. 'how came you to think of such a thing?' 'o i don't know exactly,' he replied, as if he did not care to be questioned on the point. 'i have never made one in my life till now.' every night after this, during the mournful gales of autumn, the strange mixed music of water, wind, and strings met her ear, swelling and sinking with an almost supernatural cadence. the character of the instrument was far enough removed from anything she had hitherto seen of bob's hobbies; so that she marvelled pleasantly at the new depths of poetry this contrivance revealed as existent in that young seaman's nature, and allowed her emotions to flow out yet a little further in the old direction, notwithstanding her late severe resolve to bar them back. one breezy night, when the mill was kept going into the small hours, and the wind was exactly in the direction of the water-current, the music so mingled with her dreams as to wake her: it seemed to rhythmically set itself to the words, 'remember me! think of me!' she was much impressed; the sounds were almost too touching; and she spoke to bob the next morning on the subject. 'how strange it is that you should have thought of fixing that harp where the water gushes!' she gently observed. 'it affects me almost painfully at night. you are poetical, captain bob. but it is too--too sad!' 'i will take it away,' said captain bob promptly. 'it certainly is too sad; i thought so myself. i myself was kept awake by it one night.' 'how came you to think of making such a peculiar thing?' 'well,' said bob, 'it is hardly worth saying why. it is not a good place for such a queer noisy machine; and i'll take it away.' 'on second thoughts,' said anne, 'i should like it to remain a little longer, because it sets me thinking.' 'of me?' he asked with earnest frankness. anne's colour rose fast. 'well, yes,' she said, trying to infuse much plain matter-of-fact into her voice. 'of course i am led to think of the person who invented it.' bob seemed unaccountably embarrassed, and the subject was not pursued. about half-an-hour later he came to her again, with something of an uneasy look. 'there was a little matter i didn't tell you just now, miss garland,' he said. 'about that harp thing, i mean. i did make it, certainly, but it was my brother john who asked me to do it, just before he went away. john is very musical, as you know, and he said it would interest you; but as he didn't ask me to tell, i did not. perhaps i ought to have, and not have taken the credit to myself.' 'o, it is nothing!' said anne quickly. 'it is a very incomplete instrument after all, and it will be just as well for you to take it away as you first proposed.' he said that he would, but he forgot to do it that day; and the following night there was a high wind, and the harp cried and moaned so movingly that anne, whose window was quite near, could hardly bear the sound with its new associations. john loveday was present to her mind all night as an ill-used man; and yet she could not own that she had ill-used him. the harp was removed next day. bob, feeling that his credit for originality was damaged in her eyes, by way of recovering it set himself to paint the summer-house which anne frequented, and when he came out he assured her that it was quite his own idea. 'it wanted doing, certainly,' she said, in a neutral tone. 'it is just about troublesome.' 'yes; you can't quite reach up. that's because you are not very tall; is it not, captain loveday?' 'you never used to say things like that.' 'o, i don't mean that you are much less than tall! shall i hold the paint for you, to save your stepping down?' 'thank you, if you would.' she took the paint-pot, and stood looking at the brush as it moved up and down in his hand. 'i hope i shall not sprinkle your fingers,' he observed as he dipped. 'o, that would not matter! you do it very well.' 'i am glad to hear that you think so.' 'but perhaps not quite so much art is demanded to paint a summer-house as to paint a picture?' thinking that, as a painter's daughter, and a person of education superior to his own, she spoke with a flavour of sarcasm, he felt humbled and said-- 'you did not use to talk like that to me.' 'i was perhaps too young then to take any pleasure in giving pain,' she observed daringly. 'does it give you pleasure?' anne nodded. 'i like to give pain to people who have given pain to me,' she said smartly, without removing her eyes from the green liquid in her hand. 'i ask your pardon for that.' 'i didn't say i meant you--though i did mean you.' bob looked and looked at her side face till he was bewitched into putting down his brush. 'it was that stupid forgetting of 'ee for a time!' he exclaimed. 'well, i hadn't seen you for so very long--consider how many years! o, dear anne!' he said, advancing to take her hand, 'how well we knew one another when we were children! you was a queen to me then; and so you are now, and always.' possibly anne was thrilled pleasantly enough at having brought the truant village lad to her feet again; but he was not to find the situation so easy as he imagined, and her hand was not to be taken yet. 'very pretty!' she said, laughing. 'and only six weeks since miss johnson left.' 'zounds, don't say anything about that!' implored bob. 'i swear that i never--never deliberately loved her--for a long time together, that is; it was a sudden sort of thing, you know. but towards you--i have more or less honoured and respectfully loved you, off and on, all my life. there, that's true.' anne retorted quickly-- 'i am willing, off and on, to believe you, captain robert. but i don't see any good in your making these solemn declarations.' 'give me leave to explain, dear miss garland. it is to get you to be pleased to renew an old promise--made years ago--that you'll think o' me.' 'not a word of any promise will i repeat.' 'well, well, i won't urge 'ee to-day. only let me beg of you to get over the quite wrong notion you have of me; and it shall be my whole endeavour to fetch your gracious favour.' anne turned away from him and entered the house, whither in the course of a quarter of an hour he followed her, knocking at her door, and asking to be let in. she said she was busy; whereupon he went away, to come back again in a short time and receive the same answer. 'i have finished painting the summer-house for you,' he said through the door. 'i cannot come to see it. i shall be engaged till supper-time.' she heard him breathe a heavy sigh and withdraw, murmuring something about his bad luck in being cut away from the starn like this. but it was not over yet. when supper-time came and they sat down together, she took upon herself to reprove him for what he had said to her in the garden. bob made his forehead express despair. 'now, i beg you this one thing,' he said. 'just let me know your whole mind. then i shall have a chance to confess my faults and mend them, or clear my conduct to your satisfaction.' she answered with quickness, but not loud enough to be heard by the old people at the other end of the table--'then, captain loveday, i will tell you one thing, one fault, that perhaps would have been more proper to my character than to yours. you are too easily impressed by new faces, and that gives me a _bad opinion_ of you--yes, a _bad opinion_.' 'o, that's it!' said bob slowly, looking at her with the intense respect of a pupil for a master, her words being spoken in a manner so precisely between jest and earnest that he was in some doubt how they were to be received. 'impressed by new faces. it is wrong, certainly, of me.' the popping of a cork, and the pouring out of strong beer by the miller with a view to giving it a head, were apparently distractions sufficient to excuse her in not attending further to him; and during the remainder of the sitting her gentle chiding seemed to be sinking seriously into his mind. perhaps her own heart ached to see how silent he was; but she had always meant to punish him. day after day for two or three weeks she preserved the same demeanour, with a self-control which did justice to her character. and, on his part, considering what he had to put up with--how she eluded him, snapped him off, refused to come out when he called her, refused to see him when he wanted to enter the little parlour which she had now appropriated to her private use, his patience testified strongly to his good-humour. xxiii. military preparations on an extended scale christmas had passed. dreary winter with dark evenings had given place to more dreary winter with light evenings. rapid thaws had ended in rain, rain in wind, wind in dust. showery days had come--the season of pink dawns and white sunsets; and people hoped that the march weather was over. the chief incident that concerned the household at the mill was that the miller, following the example of all his neighbours, had become a volunteer, and duly appeared twice a week in a red, long-tailed military coat, pipe-clayed breeches, black cloth gaiters, a heel-balled helmet- hat, with a tuft of green wool, and epaulettes of the same colour and material. bob still remained neutral. not being able to decide whether to enrol himself as a sea-fencible, a local militia-man, or a volunteer, he simply went on dancing attendance upon anne. mrs. loveday had become awake to the fact that the pair of young people stood in a curious attitude towards each other; but as they were never seen with their heads together, and scarcely ever sat even in the same room, she could not be sure what their movements meant. strangely enough (or perhaps naturally enough), since entering the loveday family herself, she had gradually grown to think less favourably of anne doing the same thing, and reverted to her original idea of encouraging festus; this more particularly because he had of late shown such perseverance in haunting the precincts of the mill, presumably with the intention of lighting upon the young girl. but the weather had kept her mostly indoors. one afternoon it was raining in torrents. such leaves as there were on trees at this time of year--those of the laurel and other evergreens--staggered beneath the hard blows of the drops which fell upon them, and afterwards could be seen trickling down the stems beneath and silently entering the ground. the surface of the mill-pond leapt up in a thousand spirts under the same downfall, and clucked like a hen in the rat-holes along the banks as it undulated under the wind. the only dry spot visible from the front windows of the mill-house was the inside of a small shed, on the opposite side of the courtyard. while mrs. loveday was noticing the threads of rain descending across its interior shade, festus derriman walked up and entered it for shelter, which, owing to the lumber within, it but scantily afforded to a man who would have been a match for one of frederick william's patagonians. it was an excellent opportunity for helping on her scheme. anne was in the back room, and by asking him in till the rain was over she would bring him face to face with her daughter, whom, as the days went on, she increasingly wished to marry other than a loveday, now that the romance of her own alliance with the millet had in some respects worn off. she was better provided for than before; she was not unhappy; but the plain fact was that she had married beneath her. she beckoned to festus through the window-pane; he instantly complied with her signal, having in fact placed himself there on purpose to be noticed; for he knew that miss garland would not be out-of-doors on such a day. 'good afternoon, mrs. loveday,' said festus on entering. 'there now--if i didn't think that's how it would be!' his voice had suddenly warmed to anger, for he had seen a door close in the back part of the room, a lithe figure having previously slipped through. mrs. loveday turned, observed that anne was gone, and said, 'what is it?' as if she did not know. 'o, nothing, nothing!' said festus crossly. 'you know well enough what it is, ma'am; only you make pretence otherwise. but i'll bring her to book yet. you shall drop your haughty airs, my charmer! she little thinks i have kept an account of 'em all.' 'but you must treat her politely, sir,' said mrs. loveday, secretly pleased at these signs of uncontrollable affection. 'don't tell me of politeness or generosity, ma'am! she is more than a match for me. she regularly gets over me. i have passed by this house five-and-fifty times since last martinmas, and this is all my reward for't!' 'but you will stay till the rain is over, sir?' 'no. i don't mind rain. i'm off again. she's got somebody else in her eye!' and the yeoman went out, slamming the door. meanwhile the slippery object of his hopes had gone along the dark passage, passed the trap which opened on the wheel, and through the door into the mill, where she was met by bob, who looked up from the flour- shoot inquiringly and said, 'you want me, miss garland?' 'o no,' said she. 'i only want to be allowed to stand here a few minutes.' he looked at her to know if she meant it, and finding that she did, returned to his post. when the mill had rumbled on a little longer he came back. 'bob,' she said, when she saw him move, 'remember that you are at work, and have no time to stand close to me.' he bowed and went to his original post again, anne watching from the window till festus should leave. the mill rumbled on as before, and at last bob came to her for the third time. 'now, bob--' she began. 'on my honour, 'tis only to ask a question. will you walk with me to church next sunday afternoon?' 'perhaps i will,' she said. but at this moment the yeoman left the house, and anne, to escape further parley, returned to the dwelling by the way she had come. sunday afternoon arrived, and the family was standing at the door waiting for the church bells to begin. from that side of the house they could see southward across a paddock to the rising ground further ahead, where there grew a large elm-tree, beneath whose boughs footpaths crossed in different directions, like meridians at the pole. the tree was old, and in summer the grass beneath it was quite trodden away by the feet of the many trysters and idlers who haunted the spot. the tree formed a conspicuous object in the surrounding landscape. while they looked, a foot soldier in red uniform and white breeches came along one of the paths, and stopping beneath the elm, took from his pocket a paper, which he proceeded to nail up by the four corners to the trunk. he drew back, looked at it, and went on his way. bob got his glass from indoors and levelled it at the placard, but after looking for a long time he could make out nothing but a lion and a unicorn at the top. anne, who was ready for church, moved away from the door, though it was yet early, and showed her intention of going by way of the elm. the paper had been so impressively nailed up that she was curious to read it even at this theological time. bob took the opportunity of following, and reminded her of her promise. 'then walk behind me not at all close,' she said. 'yes,' he replied, immediately dropping behind. the ludicrous humility of his manner led her to add playfully over her shoulder, 'it serves you right, you know.' 'i deserve anything, but i must take the liberty to say that i hope my behaviour about matil--, in forgetting you awhile, will not make ye wish to keep me _always_ behind?' she replied confidentially, 'why i am so earnest not to be seen with you is that i may appear to people to be independent of you. knowing what i do of your weaknesses i can do no otherwise. you must be schooled into--' 'o, anne,' sighed bob, 'you hit me hard--too hard! if ever i do win you i am sure i shall have fairly earned you.' 'you are not what you once seemed to be,' she returned softly. 'i don't quite like to let myself love you.' the last words were not very audible, and as bob was behind he caught nothing of them, nor did he see how sentimental she had become all of a sudden. they walked the rest of the way in silence, and coming to the tree read as follows:-- address to all ranks and descriptions of englishmen. friends and countrymen,--the french are now assembling the largest force that ever was prepared to invade this kingdom, with the professed purpose of effecting our complete ruin and destruction. they do not disguise their intentions, as they have often done to other countries; but openly boast that they will come over in such numbers as cannot be resisted. wherever the french have lately appeared they have spared neither rich nor poor, old nor young; but like a destructive pestilence have laid waste and destroyed every thing that before was fair and flourishing. on this occasion no man's service is compelled, but you are invited voluntarily to come forward in defence of everything that is dear to you, by entering your names on the lists which are sent to the tything- man of every parish, and engaging to act either as _associated volunteers bearing arms_, _as pioneers and labourers_, or as _drivers of waggons_. as associated volunteers you will be called out only once a week, unless the actual landing of the enemy should render your further services necessary. as pioneers or labourers you will be employed in breaking up roads to hinder the enemy's advance. those who have pickaxes, spades, shovels, bill-hooks, or other working implements, are desired to mention them to the constable or tything- man of their parish, in order that they may be entered on the lists opposite their homes, to be used if necessary. . . . it is thought desirable to give you this explanation, that you may not be ignorant of the duties to which you may be called. but if the love of true liberty and honest fame has not ceased to animate the hearts of englishmen, pay, though necessary, will be the least part of your reward. you will find your best recompense in having done your duty to your king and country by driving back or destroying your old and implacable enemy, envious of your freedom and happiness, and therefore seeking to destroy them; in having protected your wives and children from death, or worse than death, which will follow the success of such inveterate foes. rouse, therefore, and unite as one man in the best of causes! united we may defy the world to conquer us; but victory will never belong to those who are slothful and unprepared. { } 'i must go and join at once!' said bob. anne turned to him, all the playfulness gone from her face. 'i wish we lived in the north of england, bob, so as to be further away from where he'll land!' she murmured uneasily. 'where we are would be paradise to me, if you would only make it so.' 'it is not right to talk so lightly at such a serious time,' she thoughtfully returned, going on towards the church. on drawing near, they saw through the boughs of a clump of intervening trees, still leafless, but bursting into buds of amber hue, a glittering which seemed to be reflected from points of steel. in a few moments they heard above the tender chiming of the church bells the loud voice of a man giving words of command, at which all the metallic points suddenly shifted like the bristles of a porcupine, and glistened anew. ''tis the drilling,' said loveday. 'they drill now between the services, you know, because they can't get the men together so readily in the week. it makes me feel that i ought to be doing more than i am!' when they had passed round the belt of trees, the company of recruits became visible, consisting of the able-bodied inhabitants of the hamlets thereabout, more or less known to bob and anne. they were assembled on the green plot outside the churchyard-gate, dressed in their common clothes, and the sergeant who had been putting them through their drill was the man who nailed up the proclamation. he was now engaged in untying a canvas money-bag, from which he drew forth a handful of shillings, giving one to each man in payment for his attendance. 'men, i dismissed ye too soon--parade, parade again, i say,' he cried. 'my watch is fast, i find. there's another twenty minutes afore the worship of god commences. now all of you that ha'n't got firelocks, fall in at the lower end. eyes right and dress!' as every man was anxious to see how the rest stood, those at the end of the line pressed forward for that purpose, till the line assumed the form of a bow. 'look at ye now! why, you are all a crooking in! dress, dress!' they dressed forthwith; but impelled by the same motive they soon resumed their former figure, and so they were despairingly permitted to remain. 'now, i hope you'll have a little patience,' said the sergeant, as he stood in the centre of the arc, 'and pay strict attention to the word of command, just exactly as i give it out to ye; and if i should go wrong, i shall be much obliged to any friend who'll put me right again, for i have only been in the army three weeks myself, and we are all liable to mistakes.' 'so we be, so we be,' said the line heartily. ''tention, the whole, then. poise fawlocks! very well done!' 'please, what must we do that haven't got no firelocks!' said the lower end of the line in a helpless voice. 'now, was ever such a question! why, you must do nothing at all, but think _how_ you'd poise 'em _if_ you had 'em. you middle men, that are armed with hurdle-sticks and cabbage-stumps just to make-believe, must of course use 'em as if they were the real thing. now then, cock fawlocks! present! fire! (pretend to, i mean, and the same time throw yer imagination into the field o' battle.) very good--very good indeed; except that some of you were a _little_ too soon, and the rest a _little_ too late.' 'please, sergeant, can i fall out, as i am master-player in the choir, and my bass-viol strings won't stand at this time o' year, unless they be screwed up a little before the passon comes in?' 'how can you think of such trifles as churchgoing at such a time as this, when your own native country is on the point of invasion?' said the sergeant sternly. 'and, as you know, the drill ends three minutes afore church begins, and that's the law, and it wants a quarter of an hour yet. now, at the word _prime_, shake the powder (supposing you've got it) into the priming-pan, three last fingers behind the rammer; then shut your pans, drawing your right arm nimble-like towards your body. i ought to have told ye before this, that at _hand your katridge_, seize it and bring it with a quick motion to your mouth, bite the top well off, and don't swaller so much of the powder as to make ye hawk and spet instead of attending to your drill. what's that man a-saying of in the rear rank?' 'please, sir, 'tis anthony cripplestraw, wanting to know how he's to bite off his katridge, when he haven't a tooth left in 's head?' 'man! why, what's your genius for war? hold it up to your right-hand man's mouth, to be sure, and let him nip it off for ye. well, what have you to say, private tremlett? don't ye understand english?' 'ask yer pardon, sergeant; but what must we infantry of the awkward squad do if boney comes afore we get our firelocks?' 'take a pike, like the rest of the incapables. you'll find a store of them ready in the corner of the church tower. now then--shoulder--r--r--r--' 'there, they be tinging in the passon!' exclaimed david, miller loveday's man, who also formed one of the company, as the bells changed from chiming all three together to a quick beating of one. the whole line drew a breath of relief, threw down their arms, and began running off. 'well, then, i must dismiss ye,' said the sergeant. 'come back--come back! next drill is tuesday afternoon at four. and, mind, if your masters won't let ye leave work soon enough, tell me, and i'll write a line to gover'ment! 'tention! to the right--left wheel, i mean--no, no--right wheel. mar--r--r--rch!' some wheeled to the right and some to the left, and some obliging men, including cripplestraw, tried to wheel both ways. 'stop, stop; try again! 'cruits and comrades, unfortunately when i'm in a hurry i can never remember my right hand from my left, and never could as a boy. you must excuse me, please. practice makes perfect, as the saying is; and, much as i've learnt since i 'listed, we always find something new. now then, right wheel! march! halt! stand at ease! dismiss! i think that's the order o't, but i'll look in the gover'ment book afore tuesday.' { } many of the company who had been drilled preferred to go off and spend their shillings instead of entering the church; but anne and captain bob passed in. even the interior of the sacred edifice was affected by the agitation of the times. the religion of the country had, in fact, changed from love of god to hatred of napoleon buonaparte; and, as if to remind the devout of this alteration, the pikes for the pikemen (all those accepted men who were not otherwise armed) were kept in the church of each parish. there, against the wall, they always stood--a whole sheaf of them, formed of new ash stems, with a spike driven in at one end, the stick being preserved from splitting by a ferule. and there they remained, year after year, in the corner of the aisle, till they were removed and placed under the gallery stairs, and thence ultimately to the belfry, where they grew black, rusty, and worm-eaten, and were gradually stolen and carried off by sextons, parish clerks, whitewashers, window-menders, and other church servants for use at home as rake-stems, benefit-club staves, and pick-handles, in which degraded situations they may still occasionally be found. but in their new and shining state they had a terror for anne, whose eyes were involuntarily drawn towards them as she sat at bob's side during the service, filling her with bloody visions of their possible use not far from the very spot on which they were now assembled. the sermon, too, was on the subject of patriotism; so that when they came out she began to harp uneasily upon the probability of their all being driven from their homes. bob assured her that with the sixty thousand regulars, the militia reserve of a hundred and twenty thousand, and the three hundred thousand volunteers, there was not much to fear. 'but i sometimes have a fear that poor john will be killed,' he continued after a pause. 'he is sure to be among the first that will have to face the invaders, and the trumpeters get picked off.' 'there is the same chance for him as for the others,' said anne. 'yes--yes--the same chance, such as it is. you have never liked john since that affair of matilda johnson, have you?' 'why?' she quickly asked. 'well,' said bob timidly, 'as it is a ticklish time for him, would it not be worth while to make up any differences before the crash comes?' 'i have nothing to make up,' said anne, with some distress. she still fully believed the trumpet-major to have smuggled away miss johnson because of his own interest in that lady, which must have made his professions to herself a mere pastime; but that very conduct had in it the curious advantage to herself of setting bob free. 'since john has been gone,' continued her companion, 'i have found out more of his meaning, and of what he really had to do with that woman's flight. did you know that he had anything to do with it?' 'yes.' 'that he got her to go away?' she looked at bob with surprise. he was not exasperated with john, and yet he knew so much as this. 'yes,' she said; 'what did it mean?' he did not explain to her then; but the possibility of john's death, which had been newly brought home to him by the military events of the day, determined him to get poor john's character cleared. reproaching himself for letting her remain so long with a mistaken idea of him, bob went to his father as soon as they got home, and begged him to get mrs. loveday to tell anne the true reason of john's objection to miss johnson as a sister-in-law. 'she thinks it is because they were old lovers new met, and that he wants to marry her,' he exclaimed to his father in conclusion. 'then _that's_ the meaning of the split between miss nancy and jack,' said the miller. 'what, were they any more than common friends?' asked bob uneasily. 'not on her side, perhaps.' 'well, we must do it,' replied bob, painfully conscious that common justice to john might bring them into hazardous rivalry, yet determined to be fair. 'tell it all to mrs. loveday, and get her to tell anne.' xxiv. a letter, a visitor, and a tin box the result of the explanation upon anne was bitter self-reproach. she was so sorry at having wronged the kindly soldier that next morning she went by herself to the down, and stood exactly where his tent had covered the sod on which he had lain so many nights, thinking what sadness he must have suffered because of her at the time of packing up and going away. after that she wiped from her eyes the tears of pity which had come there, descended to the house, and wrote an impulsive letter to him, in which occurred the following passages, indiscreet enough under the circumstances:-- 'i find all justice, all rectitude, on your side, john; and all impertinence, all inconsiderateness, on mine. i am so much convinced of your honour in the whole transaction, that i shall for the future mistrust myself in everything. and if it be possible, whenever i differ from you on any point i shall take an hour's time for consideration before i say that i differ. if i have lost your friendship, i have only myself to thank for it; but i sincerely hope that you can forgive.' after writing this she went to the garden, where bob was shearing the spring grass from the paths. 'what is john's direction?' she said, holding the sealed letter in her hand. 'exonbury barracks,' bob faltered, his countenance sinking. she thanked him and went indoors. when he came in, later in the day, he passed the door of her empty sitting-room and saw the letter on the mantelpiece. he disliked the sight of it. hearing voices in the other room, he entered and found anne and her mother there, talking to cripplestraw, who had just come in with a message from squire derriman, requesting miss garland, as she valued the peace of mind of an old and troubled man, to go at once and see him. 'i cannot go,' she said, not liking the risk that such a visit involved. an hour later cripplestraw shambled again into the passage, on the same errand. 'maister's very poorly, and he hopes that you'll come, mis'ess anne. he wants to see 'ee very particular about the french.' anne would have gone in a moment, but for the fear that some one besides the farmer might encounter her, and she answered as before. another hour passed, and the wheels of a vehicle were heard. cripplestraw had come for the third time, with a horse and gig; he was dressed in his best clothes, and brought with him on this occasion a basket containing raisins, almonds, oranges, and sweet cakes. offering them to her as a gift from the old farmer, he repeated his request for her to accompany him, the gig and best mare having been sent as an additional inducement. 'i believe the old gentleman is in love with you, anne,' said her mother. 'why couldn't he drive down himself to see me?' anne inquired of cripplestraw. 'he wants you at the house, please.' 'is mr. festus with him?' 'no; he's away to budmouth.' 'i'll go,' said she. 'and i may come and meet you?' said bob. 'there's my letter--what shall i do about that?' she said, instead of answering him. 'take my letter to the post-office, and you may come,' she added. he said yes and went out, cripplestraw retreating to the door till she should be ready. 'what letter is it?' said her mother. 'only one to john,' said anne. 'i have asked him to forgive my suspicions. i could do no less.' 'do you want to marry _him_?' asked mrs. loveday bluntly. 'mother!' 'well; he will take that letter as an encouragement. can't you see that he will, you foolish girl?' anne did see instantly. 'of course!' she said. 'tell robert that he need not go.' she went to her room to secure the letter. it was gone from the mantelpiece, and on inquiry it was found that the miller, seeing it there, had sent david with it to budmouth hours ago. anne said nothing, and set out for oxwell hall with cripplestraw. 'william,' said mrs. loveday to the miller when anne was gone and bob had resumed his work in the garden, 'did you get that letter sent off on purpose?' 'well, i did. i wanted to make sure of it. john likes her, and now 'twill be made up; and why shouldn't he marry her? i'll start him in business, if so be she'll have him.' 'but she is likely to marry festus derriman.' 'i don't want her to marry anybody but john,' said the miller doggedly. 'not if she is in love with bob, and has been for years, and he with her?' asked his wife triumphantly. 'in love with bob, and he with her?' repeated loveday. 'certainly,' said she, going off and leaving him to his reflections. when anne reached the hall she found old mr. derriman in his customary chair. his complexion was more ashen, but his movement in rising at her entrance, putting a chair and shutting the door behind her, were much the same as usual. 'thank god you've come, my dear girl,' he said earnestly. 'ah, you don't trip across to read to me now! why did ye cost me so much to fetch you? fie! a horse and gig, and a man's time in going three times. and what i sent ye cost a good deal in budmouth market, now everything is so dear there, and 'twould have cost more if i hadn't bought the raisins and oranges some months ago, when they were cheaper. i tell you this because we are old friends, and i have nobody else to tell my troubles to. but i don't begrudge anything to ye since you've come.' 'i am not much pleased to come, even now,' said she. 'what can make you so seriously anxious to see me?' 'well, you be a good girl and true; and i've been thinking that of all people of the next generation that i can trust, you are the best. 'tis my bonds and my title-deeds, such as they be, and the leases, you know, and a few guineas in packets, and more than these, my will, that i have to speak about. now do ye come this way.' 'o, such things as those!' she returned, with surprise. 'i don't understand those things at all.' 'there's nothing to understand. 'tis just this. the french will be here within two months; that's certain. i have it on the best authority, that the army at boulogne is ready, the boats equipped, the plans laid, and the first consul only waits for a tide. heaven knows what will become o' the men o' these parts! but most likely the women will he spared. now i'll show 'ee.' he led her across the hall to a stone staircase of semi-circular plan, which conducted to the cellars. 'down here?' she said. 'yes; i must trouble ye to come down here. i have thought and thought who is the woman that can best keep a secret for six months, and i say, "anne garland." you won't be married before then?' 'o no!' murmured the young woman. 'i wouldn't expect ye to keep a close tongue after such a thing as that. but it will not be necessary.' when they reached the bottom of the steps he struck a light from a tinder- box, and unlocked the middle one of three doors which appeared in the whitewashed wall opposite. the rays of the candle fell upon the vault and sides of a long low cellar, littered with decayed woodwork from other parts of the hall, among the rest stair-balusters, carved finials, tracery panels, and wainscoting. but what most attracted her eye was a small flagstone turned up in the middle of the floor, a heap of earth beside it, and a measuring-tape. derriman went to the corner of the cellar, and pulled out a clamped box from under the straw. 'you be rather heavy, my dear, eh?' he said, affectionately addressing the box as he lifted it. 'but you are going to be put in a safe place, you know, or that rascal will get hold of ye, and carry ye off and ruin me.' he then with some difficulty lowered the box into the hole, raked in the earth upon it, and lowered the flagstone, which he was a long time in fixing to his satisfaction. miss garland, who was romantically interested, helped him to brush away the fragments of loose earth; and when he had scattered over the floor a little of the straw that lay about, they again ascended to upper air. 'is this all, sir?' said anne. 'just a moment longer, honey. will you come into the great parlour?' she followed him thither. 'if anything happens to me while the fighting is going on--it may be on these very fields--you will know what to do,' he resumed. 'but first please sit down again, there's a dear, whilst i write what's in my head. see, there's the best paper, and a new quill that i've afforded myself for't.' 'what a strange business! i don't think i much like it, mr. derriman,' she said, seating herself. he had by this time begun to write, and murmured as he wrote-- '"twenty-three and a half from n.w. sixteen and three-quarters from n.e."--there, that's all. now i seal it up and give it to you to keep safe till i ask ye for it, or you hear of my being trampled down by the enemy.' 'what does it mean?' she asked, as she received the paper. 'clk! ha! ha! why, that's the distance of the box from the two corners of the cellar. i measured it before you came. and, my honey, to make all sure, if the french soldiery are after ye, tell your mother the meaning on't, or any other friend, in case they should put ye to death, and the secret be lost. but that i am sure i hope they won't do, though your pretty face will be a sad bait to the soldiers. i often have wished you was my daughter, honey; and yet in these times the less cares a man has the better, so i am glad you bain't. shall my man drive you home?' 'no, no,' she said, much depressed by the words he had uttered. 'i can find my way. you need not trouble to come down.' 'then take care of the paper. and if you outlive me, you'll find i have not forgot you.' xxv. festus shows his love festus derriman had remained in the royal watering-place all that day, his horse being sick at stables; but, wishing to coax or bully from his uncle a remount for the coming summer, he set off on foot for oxwell early in the evening. when he drew near to the village, or rather to the hall, which was a mile from the village, he overtook a slim, quick-eyed woman, sauntering along at a leisurely pace. she was fashionably dressed in a green spencer, with 'mameluke' sleeves, and wore a velvet spanish hat and feather. 'good afternoon t'ye, ma'am,' said festus, throwing a sword-and-pistol air into his greeting. 'you are out for a walk?' 'i _am_ out for a walk, captain,' said the lady, who had criticized him from the crevice of her eye, without seeming to do much more than continue her demure look forward, and gave the title as a sop to his apparent character. 'from the town?--i'd swear it, ma'am; 'pon my honour i would!' 'yes, i am from the town, sir,' said she. 'ah, you are a visitor! i know every one of the regular inhabitants; we soldiers are in and out there continually. festus derriman, yeomanry cavalry, you know. the fact is, the watering-place is under our charge; the folks will be quite dependent upon us for their deliverance in the coming struggle. we hold our lives in our hands, and theirs, i may say, in our pockets. what made you come here, ma'am, at such a critical time?' 'i don't see that it is such a critical time?' 'but it is, though; and so you'd say if you was as much mixed up with the military affairs of the nation as some of us.' the lady smiled. 'the king is coming this year, anyhow,' said she. 'never!' said festus firmly. 'ah, you are one of the attendants at court perhaps, come on ahead to get the king's chambers ready, in case boney should not land?' 'no,' she said; 'i am connected with the theatre, though not just at the present moment. i have been out of luck for the last year or two; but i have fetched up again. i join the company when they arrive for the season.' festus surveyed her with interest. 'faith! and is it so? well, ma'am, what part do you play?' 'i am mostly the leading lady--the heroine,' she said, drawing herself up with dignity. 'i'll come and have a look at ye if all's well, and the landing is put off--hang me if i don't!--hullo, hullo, what do i see?' his eyes were stretched towards a distant field, which anne garland was at that moment hastily crossing, on her way from the hall to overcombe. 'i must be off. good-day to ye, dear creature!' he exclaimed, hurrying forward. the lady said, 'o, you droll monster!' as she smiled and watched him stride ahead. festus bounded on over the hedge, across the intervening patch of green, and into the field which anne was still crossing. in a moment or two she looked back, and seeing the well-known herculean figure of the yeoman behind her felt rather alarmed, though she determined to show no difference in her outward carriage. but to maintain her natural gait was beyond her powers. she spasmodically quickened her pace; fruitlessly, however, for he gained upon her, and when within a few strides of her exclaimed, 'well, my darling!' anne started off at a run. festus was already out of breath, and soon found that he was not likely to overtake her. on she went, without turning her head, till an unusual noise behind compelled her to look round. his face was in the act of falling back; he swerved on one side, and dropped like a log upon a convenient hedgerow-bank which bordered the path. there he lay quite still. anne was somewhat alarmed; and after standing at gaze for two or three minutes, drew nearer to him, a step and a half at a time, wondering and doubting, as a meek ewe draws near to some strolling vagabond who flings himself on the grass near the flock. 'he is in a swoon!' she murmured. her heart beat quickly, and she looked around. nobody was in sight; she advanced a step nearer still and observed him again. apparently his face was turning to a livid hue, and his breathing had become obstructed. ''tis not a swoon; 'tis apoplexy!' she said, in deep distress. 'i ought to untie his neck.' but she was afraid to do this, and only drew a little closer still. miss garland was now within three feet of him, whereupon the senseless man, who could hold his breath no longer, sprang to his feet and darted at her, saying, 'ha! ha! a scheme for a kiss!' she felt his arm slipping round her neck; but, twirling about with amazing dexterity, she wriggled from his embrace and ran away along the field. the force with which she had extricated herself was sufficient to throw festus upon the grass, and by the time that he got upon his legs again she was many yards off. uttering a word which was not exactly a blessing, he immediately gave chase; and thus they ran till anne entered a meadow divided down the middle by a brook about six feet wide. a narrow plank was thrown loosely across at the point where the path traversed this stream, and when anne reached it she at once scampered over. at the other side she turned her head to gather the probabilities of the situation, which were that festus derriman would overtake her even now. by a sudden forethought she stooped, seized the end of the plank, and endeavoured to drag it away from the opposite bank. but the weight was too great for her to do more than slightly move it, and with a desperate sigh she ran on again, having lost many valuable seconds. but her attempt, though ineffectual in dragging it down, had been enough to unsettle the little bridge; and when derriman reached the middle, which he did half a minute later, the plank turned over on its edge, tilting him bodily into the river. the water was not remarkably deep, but as the yeoman fell flat on his stomach he was completely immersed; and it was some time before he could drag himself out. when he arose, dripping on the bank, and looked around, anne had vanished from the mead. then festus's eyes glowed like carbuncles, and he gave voice to fearful imprecations, shaking his fist in the soft summer air towards anne, in a way that was terrible for any maiden to behold. wading back through the stream, he walked along its bank with a heavy tread, the water running from his coat-tails, wrists, and the tips of his ears, in silvery dribbles, that sparkled pleasantly in the sun. thus he hastened away, and went round by a by-path to the hall. meanwhile the author of his troubles was rapidly drawing nearer to the mill, and soon, to her inexpressible delight, she saw bob coming to meet her. she had heard the flounce, and, feeling more secure from her pursuer, had dropped her pace to a quick walk. no sooner did she reach bob than, overcome by the excitement of the moment, she flung herself into his arms. bob instantly enclosed her in an embrace so very thorough that there was no possible danger of her falling, whatever degree of exhaustion might have given rise to her somewhat unexpected action; and in this attitude they silently remained, till it was borne in upon anne that the present was the first time in her life that she had ever been in such a position. her face then burnt like a sunset, and she did not know how to look up at him. feeling at length quite safe, she suddenly resolved not to give way to her first impulse to tell him the whole of what had happened, lest there should be a dreadful quarrel and fight between bob and the yeoman, and great difficulties caused in the loveday family on her account, the miller having important wheat transactions with the derrimans. 'you seem frightened, dearest anne,' said bob tenderly. 'yes,' she replied. 'i saw a man i did not like the look of, and he was inclined to follow me. but, worse than that, i am troubled about the french. o bob! i am afraid you will be killed, and my mother, and john, and your father, and all of us hunted down!' 'now i have told you, dear little heart, that it cannot be. we shall drive 'em into the sea after a battle or two, even if they land, which i don't believe they will. we've got ninety sail of the line, and though it is rather unfortunate that we should have declared war against spain at this ticklish time, there's enough for all.' and bob went into elaborate statistics of the navy, army, militia, and volunteers, to prolong the time of holding her. when he had done speaking he drew rather a heavy sigh. 'what's the matter, bob?' 'i haven't been yet to offer myself as a sea-fencible, and i ought to have done it long ago.' 'you are only one. surely they can do without you?' bob shook his head. she arose from her restful position, her eye catching his with a shamefaced expression of having given way at last. loveday drew from his pocket a paper, and said, as they slowly walked on, 'here's something to make us brave and patriotic. i bought it in budmouth. isn't it a stirring picture?' it was a hieroglyphic profile of napoleon. the hat represented a maimed french eagle; the face was ingeniously made up of human carcases, knotted and writhing together in such directions as to form a physiognomy; a band, or stock, shaped to resemble the english channel, encircled his throat, and seemed to choke him; his epaulette was a hand tearing a cobweb that represented the treaty of peace with england; and his ear was a woman crouching over a dying child. { } 'it is dreadful!' said anne. 'i don't like to see it.' she had recovered from her emotion, and walked along beside him with a grave, subdued face. bob did not like to assume the privileges of an accepted lover and draw her hand through his arm; for, conscious that she naturally belonged to a politer grade than his own, he feared lest her exhibition of tenderness were an impulse which cooler moments might regret. a perfect paul-and-virginia life had not absolutely set in for him as yet, and it was not to be hastened by force. when they had passed over the bridge into the mill-front they saw the miller standing at the door with a face of concern. 'since you have been gone,' he said, 'a government man has been here, and to all the houses, taking down the numbers of the women and children, and their ages and the number of horses and waggons that can be mustered, in case they have to retreat inland, out of the way of the invading army.' the little family gathered themselves together, all feeling the crisis more seriously than they liked to express. mrs. loveday thought how ridiculous a thing social ambition was in such a conjuncture as this, and vowed that she would leave anne to love where she would. anne, too, forgot the little peculiarities of speech and manner in bob and his father, which sometimes jarred for a moment upon her more refined sense, and was thankful for their love and protection in this looming trouble. on going upstairs she remembered the paper which farmer derriman had given her, and searched in her bosom for it. she could not find it there. 'i must have left it on the table,' she said to herself. it did not matter; she remembered every word. she took a pen and wrote a duplicate, which she put safely away. but anne was wrong. she had, after all, placed the paper where she supposed, and there it ought to have been. but in escaping from festus, when he feigned apoplexy, it had fallen out upon the grass. five minutes after that event, when pursuer and pursued were two or three fields ahead, the gaily-dressed woman whom the yeoman had overtaken, peeped cautiously through the stile into the corner of the field which had been the scene of the scramble; and seeing the paper she climbed over, secured it, loosened the wafer without tearing the sheet, and read the memorandum within. unable to make anything of its meaning, the saunterer put it in her pocket, and, dismissing the matter from her mind, went on by the by- path which led to the back of the mill. here, behind the hedge, she stood and surveyed the old building for some time, after which she meditatively turned, and retraced her steps towards the royal watering- place. xxvi. the alarm the night which followed was historic and memorable. mrs. loveday was awakened by the boom of a distant gun: she told the miller, and they listened awhile. the sound was not repeated, but such was the state of their feelings that mr. loveday went to bob's room and asked if he had heard it. bob was wide awake, looking out of the window; he had heard the ominous sound, and was inclined to investigate the matter. while the father and son were dressing they fancied that a glare seemed to be rising in the sky in the direction of the beacon hill. not wishing to alarm anne and her mother, the miller assured them that bob and himself were merely going out of doors to inquire into the cause of the report, after which they plunged into the gloom together. a few steps' progress opened up more of the sky, which, as they had thought, was indeed irradiated by a lurid light; but whether it came from the beacon or from a more distant point they were unable to clearly tell. they pushed on rapidly towards higher ground. their excitement was merely of a piece with that of all men at this critical juncture. everywhere expectation was at fever heat. for the last year or two only five-and-twenty miles of shallow water had divided quiet english homesteads from an enemy's army of a hundred and fifty thousand men. we had taken the matter lightly enough, eating and drinking as in the days of noe, and singing satires without end. we punned on buonaparte and his gunboats, chalked his effigy on stage-coaches, and published the same in prints. still, between these bursts of hilarity, it was sometimes recollected that england was the only european country which had not succumbed to the mighty little man who was less than human in feeling, and more than human in will; that our spirit for resistance was greater than our strength; and that the channel was often calm. boats built of wood which was greenly growing in its native forest three days before it was bent as wales to their sides, were ridiculous enough; but they might be, after all, sufficient for a single trip between two visible shores. the english watched buonaparte in these preparations, and buonaparte watched the english. at the distance of boulogne details were lost, but we were impressed on fine days by the novel sight of a huge army moving and twinkling like a school of mackerel under the rays of the sun. the regular way of passing an afternoon in the coast towns was to stroll up to the signal posts and chat with the lieutenant on duty there about the latest inimical object seen at sea. about once a week there appeared in the newspapers either a paragraph concerning some adventurous english gentleman who had sailed out in a pleasure-boat till he lay near enough to boulogne to see buonaparte standing on the heights among his marshals; or else some lines about a mysterious stranger with a foreign accent, who, after collecting a vast deal of information on our resources, had hired a boat at a southern port, and vanished with it towards france before his intention could be divined. in forecasting his grand venture, buonaparte postulated the help of providence to a remarkable degree. just at the hour when his troops were on board the flat-bottomed boats and ready to sail, there was to be a great fog, that should spread a vast obscurity over the length and breadth of the channel, and keep the english blind to events on the other side. the fog was to last twenty-four hours, after which it might clear away. a dead calm was to prevail simultaneously with the fog, with the twofold object of affording the boats easy transit and dooming our ships to lie motionless. thirdly, there was to be a spring tide, which should combine its manoeuvres with those of the fog and calm. among the many thousands of minor englishmen whose lives were affected by these tremendous designs may be numbered our old acquaintance corporal tullidge, who sported the crushed arm, and poor old simon burden, the dazed veteran who had fought at minden. instead of sitting snugly in the settle of the old ship, in the village adjoining overcombe, they were obliged to keep watch on the hill. they made themselves as comfortable as was possible in the circumstances, dwelling in a hut of clods and turf, with a brick chimney for cooking. here they observed the nightly progress of the moon and stars, grew familiar with the heaving of moles, the dancing of rabbits on the hillocks, the distant hoot of owls, the bark of foxes from woods further inland; but saw not a sign of the enemy. as, night after night, they walked round the two ricks which it was their duty to fire at a signal--one being of furze for a quick flame, the other of turf, for a long, slow radiance--they thought and talked of old times, and drank patriotically from a large wood flagon that was filled every day. bob and his father soon became aware that the light was from the beacon. by the time that they reached the top it was one mass of towering flame, from which the sparks fell on the green herbage like a fiery dew; the forms of the two old men being seen passing and repassing in the midst of it. the lovedays, who came up on the smoky side, regarded the scene for a moment, and then emerged into the light. 'who goes there?' said corporal tullidge, shouldering a pike with his sound arm. 'o, 'tis neighbour loveday!' 'did you get your signal to fire it from the east?' said the miller hastily. 'no; from abbotsea beach.' 'but you are not to go by a coast signal!' 'chok' it all, wasn't the lord-lieutenant's direction, whenever you see rainbarrow's beacon burn to the nor'east'ard, or haggardon to the nor'west'ard, or the actual presence of the enemy on the shore?' 'but is he here?' 'no doubt o't! the beach light is only just gone down, and simon heard the guns even better than i.' 'hark, hark! i hear 'em!' said bob. they listened with parted lips, the night wind blowing through simon burden's few teeth as through the ruins of stonehenge. from far down on the lower levels came the noise of wheels and the tramp of horses upon the turnpike road. 'well, there must be something in it,' said miller loveday gravely. 'bob, we'll go home and make the women-folk safe, and then i'll don my soldier's clothes and be off. god knows where our company will assemble!' they hastened down the hill, and on getting into the road waited and listened again. travellers began to come up and pass them in vehicles of all descriptions. it was difficult to attract their attention in the dim light, but by standing on the top of a wall which fenced the road bob was at last seen. 'what's the matter?' he cried to a butcher who was flying past in his cart, his wife sitting behind him without a bonnet. 'the french have landed!' said the man, without drawing rein. 'where?' shouted bob. 'in west bay; and all budmouth is in uproar!' replied the voice, now faint in the distance. bob and his father hastened on till they reached their own house. as they had expected, anne and her mother, in common with most of the people, were both dressed, and stood at the door bonneted and shawled, listening to the traffic on the neighbouring highway, mrs. loveday having secured what money and small valuables they possessed in a huge pocket which extended all round her waist, and added considerably to her weight and diameter. ''tis true enough,' said the miller: 'he's come! you and anne and the maid must be off to cousin jim's at king's-bere, and when you get there you must do as they do. i must assemble with the company.' 'and i?' said bob. 'thou'st better run to the church, and take a pike before they be all gone.' the horse was put into the gig, and mrs. loveday, anne, and the servant- maid were hastily packed into the vehicle, the latter taking the reins; david's duties as a fighting-man forbidding all thought of his domestic offices now. then the silver tankard, teapot, pair of candlesticks like ionic columns, and other articles too large to be pocketed were thrown into a basket and put up behind. then came the leave-taking, which was as sad as it was hurried. bob kissed anne, and there was no affectation in her receiving that mark of affection as she said through her tears, 'god bless you!' at last they moved off in the dim light of dawn, neither of the three women knowing which road they were to take, but trusting to chance to find it. as soon as they were out of sight bob went off for a pike, and his father, first new-flinting his firelock, proceeded to don his uniform, pipe-claying his breeches with such cursory haste as to bespatter his black gaiters with the same ornamental compound. finding when he was ready that no bugle had as yet sounded, he went with david to the cart- house, dragged out the waggon, and put therein some of the most useful and easily-handled goods, in case there might be an opportunity for conveying them away. by the time this was done and the waggon pushed back and locked in, bob had returned with his weapon, somewhat mortified at being doomed to this low form of defence. the miller gave his son a parting grasp of the hand, and arranged to meet him at king's-bere at the first opportunity if the news were true; if happily false, here at their own house. 'bother it all!' he exclaimed, looking at his stock of flints. 'what?' said bob. 'i've got no ammunition: not a blessed round!' 'then what's the use of going?' asked his son. the miller paused. 'o, i'll go,' he said. 'perhaps somebody will lend me a little if i get into a hot corner?' 'lend ye a little! father, you was always so simple!' said bob reproachfully. 'well--i can bagnet a few, anyhow,' said the miller. the bugle had been blown ere this, and loveday the father disappeared towards the place of assembly, his empty cartridge-box behind him. bob seized a brace of loaded pistols which he had brought home from the ship, and, armed with these and a pike, he locked the door and sallied out again towards the turnpike road. by this time the yeomanry of the district were also on the move, and among them festus derriman, who was sleeping at his uncle's, and had been awakened by cripplestraw. about the time when bob and his father were descending from the beacon the stalwart yeoman was standing in the stable- yard adjusting his straps, while cripplestraw saddled the horse. festus clanked up and down, looked gloomily at the beacon, heard the retreating carts and carriages, and called cripplestraw to him, who came from the stable leading the horse at the same moment that uncle benjy peeped unobserved from a mullioned window above their heads, the distant light of the beacon fire touching up his features to the complexion of an old brass clock-face. 'i think that before i start, cripplestraw,' said festus, whose lurid visage was undergoing a bleaching process curious to look upon, 'you shall go on to budmouth, and make a bold inquiry whether the cowardly enemy is on shore as yet, or only looming in the bay.' 'i'd go in a moment, sir,' said the other, 'if i hadn't my bad leg again. i should have joined my company afore this; but they said at last drill that i was too old. so i shall wait up in the hay-loft for tidings as soon as i have packed you off, poor gentleman!' 'do such alarms as these, cripplestraw, ever happen without foundation? buonaparte is a wretch, a miserable wretch, and this may be only a false alarm to disappoint such as me?' 'o no, sir; o no!' 'but sometimes there are false alarms?' 'well, sir, yes. there was a pretended sally o' gunboats last year.' 'and was there nothing else pretended--something more like this, for instance?' cripplestraw shook his head. 'i notice yer modesty, mr. festus, in making light of things. but there never was, sir. you may depend upon it he's come. thank god, my duty as a local don't require me to go to the front, but only the valiant men like my master. ah, if boney could only see 'ee now, sir, he'd know too well there is nothing to be got from such a determined skilful officer but blows and musket-balls!' 'yes, yes. cripplestraw, if i ride off to budmouth and meet 'em, all my training will be lost. no skill is required as a forlorn hope.' 'true; that's a point, sir. you would outshine 'em all, and be picked off at the very beginning as a too-dangerous brave man.' 'but if i stay here and urge on the faint-hearted ones, or get up into the turret-stair by that gateway, and pop at the invaders through the loophole, i shouldn't be so completely wasted, should i?' 'you would not, mr. derriman. but, as you was going to say next, the fire in yer veins won't let ye do that. you are valiant; very good: you don't want to husband yer valiance at home. the arg'ment is plain.' 'if my birth had been more obscure,' murmured the yeoman, 'and i had only been in the militia, for instance, or among the humble pikemen, so much wouldn't have been expected of me--of my fiery nature. cripplestraw, is there a drop of brandy to be got at in the house? i don't feel very well.' 'dear nephew,' said the old gentleman from above, whom neither of the others had as yet noticed, 'i haven't any spirits opened--so unfortunate! but there's a beautiful barrel of crab-apple cider in draught; and there's some cold tea from last night.' 'what, is he listening?' said festus, staring up. 'now i warrant how glad he is to see me forced to go--called out of bed without breakfast, and he quite safe, and sure to escape because he's an old man!--cripplestraw, i like being in the yeomanry cavalry; but i wish i hadn't been in the ranks; i wish i had been only the surgeon, to stay in the rear while the bodies are brought back to him--i mean, i should have thrown my heart at such a time as this more into the labour of restoring wounded men and joining their shattered limbs together--u-u-ugh!--more than i can into causing the wounds--i am too humane, cripplestraw, for the ranks!' 'yes, yes,' said his companion, depressing his spirits to a kindred level. 'and yet, such is fate, that, instead of joining men's limbs together, you'll have to get your own joined--poor young sojer!--all through having such a warlike soul.' 'yes,' murmured festus, and paused. 'you can't think how strange i feel here, cripplestraw,' he continued, laying his hand upon the centre buttons of his waistcoat. 'how i do wish i was only the surgeon!' he slowly mounted, and uncle benjy, in the meantime, sang to himself as he looked on, '_twen-ty-three and half from n.w._ _six-teen and three- quar-ters from n.e._' 'what's that old mummy singing?' said festus savagely. 'only a hymn for preservation from our enemies, dear nephew,' meekly replied the farmer, who had heard the remark. '_twen-ty-three and half from n.w_.' festus allowed his horse to move on a few paces, and then turned again, as if struck by a happy invention. 'cripplestraw,' he began, with an artificial laugh, 'i am obliged to confess, after all--i must see her! 'tisn't nature that makes me draw back--'tis love. i must go and look for her.' 'a woman, sir?' 'i didn't want to confess it; but 'tis a woman. strange that i should be drawn so entirely against my natural wish to rush at 'em!' cripplestraw, seeing which way the wind blew, found it advisable to blow in harmony. 'ah, now at last i see, sir! spite that few men live that be worthy to command ye; spite that you could rush on, marshal the troops to victory, as i may say; but then--what of it? there's the unhappy fate of being smit with the eyes of a woman, and you are unmanned! maister derriman, who is himself, when he's got a woman round his neck like a millstone?' 'it is something like that.' 'i feel the case. be you valiant?--i know, of course, the words being a matter of form--be you valiant, i ask? yes, of course. then don't you waste it in the open field. hoard it up, i say, sir, for a higher class of war--the defence of yer adorable lady. think what you owe her at this terrible time! now, maister derriman, once more i ask ye to cast off that first haughty wish to rush to budmouth, and to go where your mis'ess is defenceless and alone.' 'i will, cripplestraw, now you put it like that!' 'thank ye, thank ye heartily, maister derriman. go now and hide with her.' 'but can i? now, hang flattery!--can a man hide without a stain? of course i would not hide in any mean sense; no, not i!' 'if you be in love, 'tis plain you may, since it is not your own life, but another's, that you are concerned for, and you only save your own because it can't be helped.' ''tis true, cripplestraw, in a sense. but will it be understood that way? will they see it as a brave hiding?' 'now, sir, if you had not been in love i own to ye that hiding would look queer, but being to save the tears, groans, fits, swowndings, and perhaps death of a comely young woman, yer principle is good; you honourably retreat because you be too gallant to advance. this sounds strange, ye may say, sir; but it is plain enough to less fiery minds.' festus did for a moment try to uncover his teeth in a natural smile, but it died away. 'cripplestraw, you flatter me; or do you mean it? well, there's truth in it. i am more gallant in going to her than in marching to the shore. but we cannot be too careful about our good names, we soldiers. i must not be seen. i'm off.' cripplestraw opened the hurdle which closed the arch under the portico gateway, and festus passed under, uncle benjamin singing, _twen-ty-three and a half from n.w._ with a sort of sublime ecstasy, feeling, as festus had observed, that his money was safe, and that the french would not personally molest an old man in such a ragged, mildewed coat as that he wore, which he had taken the precaution to borrow from a scarecrow in one of his fields for the purpose. festus rode on full of his intention to seek out anne, and under cover of protecting her retreat accompany her to king's-bere, where he knew the lovedays had relatives. in the lane he met granny seamore, who, having packed up all her possessions in a small basket, was placidly retreating to the mountains till all should be over. 'well, granny, have ye seen the french?' asked festus. 'no,' she said, looking up at him through her brazen spectacles. 'if i had i shouldn't ha' seed thee!' 'faugh!' replied the yeoman, and rode on. just as he reached the old road, which he had intended merely to cross and avoid, his countenance fell. some troops of regulars, who appeared to be dragoons, were rattling along the road. festus hastened towards an opposite gate, so as to get within the field before they should see him; but, as ill-luck would have it, as soon as he got inside, a party of six or seven of his own yeomanry troop were straggling across the same field and making for the spot where he was. the dragoons passed without seeing him; but when he turned out into the road again it was impossible to retreat towards overcombe village because of the yeomen. so he rode straight on, and heard them coming at his heels. there was no other gate, and the highway soon became as straight as a bowstring. unable thus to turn without meeting them, and caught like an eel in a water-pipe, festus drew nearer and nearer to the fateful shore. but he did not relinquish hope. just ahead there were cross-roads, and he might have a chance of slipping down one of them without being seen. on reaching the spot he found that he was not alone. a horseman had come up the right-hand lane and drawn rein. it was an officer of the german legion, and seeing festus he held up his hand. festus rode up to him and saluted. 'it ist false report!' said the officer. festus was a man again. he felt that nothing was too much for him. the officer, after some explanation of the cause of alarm, said that he was going across to the road which led by the moor, to stop the troops and volunteers converging from that direction, upon which festus offered to give information along the casterbridge road. the german crossed over, and was soon out of sight in the lane, while festus turned back upon the way by which he had come. the party of yeomanry cavalry was rapidly drawing near, and he soon recognized among them the excited voices of stubb of duddle hole, noakes of muckleford, and other comrades of his orgies at the hall. it was a magnificent opportunity, and festus drew his sword. when they were within speaking distance he reined round his charger's head to budmouth and shouted, 'on, comrades, on! i am waiting for you. you have been a long time getting up with me, seeing the glorious nature of our deeds to-day!' 'well said, derriman, well said!' replied the foremost of the riders. 'have you heard anything new?' 'only that he's here with his tens of thousands, and that we are to ride to meet him sword in hand as soon as we have assembled in the town ahead here.' 'o lord!' said noakes, with a slight falling of the lower jaw. 'the man who quails now is unworthy of the name of yeoman,' said festus, still keeping ahead of the other troopers and holding up his sword to the sun. 'o noakes, fie, fie! you begin to look pale, man.' 'faith, perhaps you'd look pale,' said noakes, with an envious glance upon festus's daring manner, 'if you had a wife and family depending upon ye!' 'i'll take three frog-eating frenchmen single-handed!' rejoined derriman, still flourishing his sword. 'they have as good swords as you; as you will soon find,' said another of the yeomen. 'if they were three times armed,' said festus--'ay, thrice three times--i would attempt 'em three to one. how do you feel now, my old friend stubb?' (turning to another of the warriors.) 'o, friend stubb! no bouncing health to our lady-loves in oxwell hall this summer as last. eh, brownjohn?' 'i am afraid not,' said brownjohn gloomily. 'no rattling dinners at stacie's hotel, and the king below with his staff. no wrenching off door-knockers and sending 'em to the bakehouse in a pie that nobody calls for. weeks of cut-and-thrust work rather!' 'i suppose so.' 'fight how we may we shan't get rid of the cursed tyrant before autumn, and many thousand brave men will lie low before it's done,' remarked a young yeoman with a calm face, who meant to do his duty without much talking. 'no grinning matches at mai-dun castle this summer,' festus resumed; 'no thread-the-needle at greenhill fair, and going into shows and driving the showman crazy with cock-a-doodle-doo!' 'i suppose not.' 'does it make you seem just a trifle uncomfortable, noakes? keep up your spirits, old comrade. come, forward! we are only ambling on like so many donkey-women. we have to get into budmouth, join the rest of the troop, and then march along the coast west'ard, as i imagine. at this rate we shan't be well into the thick of battle before twelve o'clock. spur on, comrades. no dancing on the green, lockham, this year in the moonlight! you was tender upon that girl; gad, what will become o' her in the struggle?' 'come, come, derriman,' expostulated lockham--'this is all very well, but i don't care for 't. i am as ready to fight as any man, but--' 'perhaps when you get into battle, derriman, and see what it's like, your courage will cool down a little,' added noakes on the same side, but with secret admiration of festus's reckless bravery. 'i shall be bayoneted first,' said festus. 'now let's rally, and on!' since festus was determined to spur on wildly, the rest of the yeomen did not like to seem behindhand, and they rapidly approached the town. had they been calm enough to reflect, they might have observed that for the last half-hour no carts or carriages had met them on the way, as they had done further back. it was not till the troopers reached the turnpike that they learnt what festus had known a quarter of an hour before. at the intelligence derriman sheathed his sword with a sigh; and the party soon fell in with comrades who had arrived there before them, whereupon the source and details of the alarm were boisterously discussed. 'what, didn't you know of the mistake till now?' asked one of these of the new-comers. 'why, when i was dropping over the hill by the cross- roads i looked back and saw that man talking to the messenger, and he must have told him the truth.' the speaker pointed to festus. they turned their indignant eyes full upon him. that he had sported with their deepest feelings, while knowing the rumour to be baseless, was soon apparent to all. 'beat him black and blue with the flat of our blades!' shouted two or three, turning their horses' heads to drop back upon derriman, in which move they were followed by most of the party. but festus, foreseeing danger from the unexpected revelation, had already judiciously placed a few intervening yards between himself and his fellow- yeomen, and now, clapping spurs to his horse, rattled like thunder and lightning up the road homeward. his ready flight added hotness to their pursuit, and as he rode and looked fearfully over his shoulder he could see them following with enraged faces and drawn swords, a position which they kept up for a distance of more than a mile. then he had the satisfaction of seeing them drop off one by one, and soon he and his panting charger remained alone on the highway. xxvii. danger to anne he stopped and reflected how to turn this rebuff to advantage. baulked in his project of entering the watering-place and enjoying congratulations upon his patriotic bearing during the advance, he sulkily considered that he might be able to make some use of his enforced retirement by riding to overcombe and glorifying himself in the eyes of miss garland before the truth should have reached that hamlet. having thus decided he spurred on in a better mood. by this time the volunteers were on the march, and as derriman ascended the road he met the overcombe company, in which trudged miller loveday shoulder to shoulder with the other substantial householders of the place and its neighbourhood, duly equipped with pouches, cross-belts, firelocks, flint-boxes, pickers, worms, magazines, priming-horns, heel- ball, and pomatum. there was nothing to be gained by further suppression of the truth, and briefly informing them that the danger was not so immediate as had been supposed, festus galloped on. at the end of another mile he met a large number of pikemen, including bob loveday, whom the yeoman resolved to sound upon the whereabouts of anne. the circumstances were such as to lead bob to speak more frankly than he might have done on reflection, and he told festus the direction in which the women had been sent. then festus informed the group that the report of invasion was false, upon which they all turned to go homeward with greatly relieved spirits. bob walked beside derriman's horse for some distance. loveday had instantly made up his mind to go and look for the women, and ease their anxiety by letting them know the good news as soon as possible. but he said nothing of this to festus during their return together; nor did festus tell bob that he also had resolved to seek them out, and by anticipating every one else in that enterprise, make of it a glorious opportunity for bringing miss garland to her senses about him. he still resented the ducking that he had received at her hands, and was not disposed to let that insult pass without obtaining some sort of sweet revenge. as soon as they had parted festus cantered on over the hill, meeting on his way the longpuddle volunteers, sixty rank and file, under captain cunningham; the casterbridge company, ninety strong (known as the 'consideration company' in those days), under captain strickland; and others--all with anxious faces and covered with dust. just passing the word to them and leaving them at halt, he proceeded rapidly onward in the direction of king's-bere. nobody appeared on the road for some time, till after a ride of several miles he met a stray corporal of volunteers, who told festus in answer to his inquiry that he had certainly passed no gig full of women of the kind described. believing that he had missed them by following the highway, derriman turned back into a lane along which they might have chosen to journey for privacy's sake, notwithstanding the badness and uncertainty of its track. arriving again within five miles of overcombe, he at length heard tidings of the wandering vehicle and its precious burden, which, like the ark when sent away from the country of the philistines, had apparently been left to the instincts of the beast that drew it. a labouring man, just at daybreak, had seen the helpless party going slowly up a distant drive, which he pointed out. no sooner had festus parted from this informant than he beheld bob approaching, mounted on the miller's second and heavier horse. bob looked rather surprised, and festus felt his coming glory in danger. 'they went down that lane,' he said, signifying precisely the opposite direction to the true one. 'i, too, have been on the look-out for missing friends.' as festus was riding back there was no reason to doubt his information, and loveday rode on as misdirected. immediately that he was out of sight festus reversed his course, and followed the track which anne and her companions were last seen to pursue. this road had been ascended by the gig in question nearly two hours before the present moment. molly, the servant, held the reins, mrs. loveday sat beside her, and anne behind. their progress was but slow, owing partly to molly's want of skill, and partly to the steepness of the road, which here passed over downs of some extent, and was rarely or never mended. it was an anxious morning for them all, and the beauties of the early summer day fell upon unheeding eyes. they were too anxious even for conjecture, and each sat thinking her own thoughts, occasionally glancing westward, or stopping the horse to listen to sounds from more frequented roads along which other parties were retreating. once, while they listened and gazed thus, they saw a glittering in the distance, and heard the tramp of many horses. it was a large body of cavalry going in the direction of the king's watering-place, the same regiment of dragoons, in fact, which festus had seen further on in its course. the women in the gig had no doubt that these men were marching at once to engage the enemy. by way of varying the monotony of the journey molly occasionally burst into tears of horror, believing buonaparte to be in countenance and habits precisely what the caricatures represented him. mrs. loveday endeavoured to establish cheerfulness by assuring her companions of the natural civility of the french nation, with whom unprotected women were safe from injury, unless through the casual excesses of soldiery beyond control. this was poor consolation to anne, whose mind was more occupied with bob than with herself, and a miserable fear that she would never again see him alive so paled her face and saddened her gaze forward, that at last her mother said, 'who was you thinking of, my dear?' anne's only reply was a look at her mother, with which a tear mingled. molly whipped the horse, by which she quickened his pace for five yards, when he again fell into the perverse slowness that showed how fully conscious he was of being the master-mind and chief personage of the four. whenever there was a pool of water by the road he turned aside to drink a mouthful, and remained there his own time in spite of molly's tug at the reins and futile fly-flapping on his rump. they were now in the chalk district, where there were no hedges, and a rough attempt at mending the way had been made by throwing down huge lumps of that glaring material in heaps, without troubling to spread it or break them abroad. the jolting here was most distressing, and seemed about to snap the springs. 'how that wheel do wamble,' said molly at last. she had scarcely spoken when the wheel came off, and all three were precipitated over it into the road. fortunately the horse stood still, and they began to gather themselves up. the only one of the three who had suffered in the least from the fall was anne, and she was only conscious of a severe shaking which had half stupefied her for the time. the wheel lay flat in the road, so that there was no possibility of driving further in their present plight. they looked around for help. the only friendly object near was a lonely cottage, from its situation evidently the home of a shepherd. the horse was unharnessed and tied to the back of the gig, and the three women went across to the house. on getting close they found that the shutters of all the lower windows were closed, but on trying the door it opened to the hand. nobody was within; the house appeared to have been abandoned in some confusion, and the probability was that the shepherd had fled on hearing the alarm. anne now said that she felt the effects of her fall too severely to be able to go any further just then, and it was agreed that she should be left there while mrs. loveday and molly went on for assistance, the elder lady deeming molly too young and vacant- minded to be trusted to go alone. molly suggested taking the horse, as the distance might be great, each of them sitting alternately on his back while the other led him by the head. this they did, anne watching them vanish down the white and lumpy road. she then looked round the room, as well as she could do so by the light from the open door. it was plain, from the shutters being closed, that the shepherd had left his house before daylight, the candle and extinguisher on the table pointing to the same conclusion. here she remained, her eyes occasionally sweeping the bare, sunny expanse of down, that was only relieved from absolute emptiness by the overturned gig hard by. the sheep seemed to have gone away, and scarcely a bird flew across to disturb the solitude. anne had risen early that morning, and leaning back in the withy chair, which she had placed by the door, she soon fell into an uneasy doze, from which she was awakened by the distant tramp of a horse. feeling much recovered from the effects of the overturn, she eagerly rose and looked out. the horse was not miller loveday's, but a powerful bay, bearing a man in full yeomanry uniform. anne did not wait to recognize further; instantly re-entering the house, she shut the door and bolted it. in the dark she sat and listened: not a sound. at the end of ten minutes, thinking that the rider if he were not festus had carelessly passed by, or that if he were festus he had not seen her, she crept softly upstairs and peeped out of the window. excepting the spot of shade, formed by the gig as before, the down was quite bare. she then opened the casement and stretched out her neck. 'ha, young madam! there you are! i knew 'ee! now you are caught!' came like a clap of thunder from a point three or four feet beneath her, and turning down her frightened eyes she beheld festus derriman lurking close to the wall. his attention had first been attracted by her shutting the door of the cottage; then by the overturned gig; and after making sure, by examining the vehicle, that he was not mistaken in her identity, he had dismounted, led his horse round to the side, and crept up to entrap her. anne started back into the room, and remained still as a stone. festus went on--'come, you must trust to me. the french have landed. i have been trying to meet with you every hour since that confounded trick you played me. you threw me into the water. faith, it was well for you i didn't catch ye then! i should have taken a revenge in a better way than i shall now. i mean to have that kiss of ye. come, miss nancy; do you hear?--'tis no use for you to lurk inside there. you'll have to turn out as soon as boney comes over the hill--are you going to open the door, i say, and speak to me in a civil way? what do you think i am, then, that you should barricade yourself against me as if i was a wild beast or frenchman? open the door, or put out your head, or do something; or 'pon my soul i'll break in the door!' it occurred to anne at this point of the tirade that the best policy would be to temporize till somebody should return, and she put out her head and face, now grown somewhat pale. 'that's better,' said festus. 'now i can talk to you. come, my dear, will you open the door? why should you be afraid of me?' 'i am not altogether afraid of you; i am safe from the french here,' said anne, not very truthfully, and anxiously casting her eyes over the vacant down. 'then let me tell you that the alarm is false, and that no landing has been attempted. now will you open the door and let me in? i am tired. i have been on horseback ever since daylight, and have come to bring you the good tidings.' anne looked as if she doubted the news. 'come,' said festus. 'no, i cannot let you in,' she murmured, after a pause. 'dash my wig, then,' he cried, his face flaming up, 'i'll find a way to get in! now, don't you provoke me! you don't know what i am capable of. i ask you again, will you open the door?' 'why do you wish it?' she said faintly. 'i have told you i want to sit down; and i want to ask you a question.' 'you can ask me from where you are.' 'i cannot ask you properly. it is about a serious matter: whether you will accept my heart and hand. i am not going to throw myself at your feet; but i ask you to do your duty as a woman, namely, give your solemn word to take my name as soon as the war is over and i have time to attend to you. i scorn to ask it of a haughty hussy who will only speak to me through a window; however, i put it to you for the last time, madam.' there was no sign on the down of anybody's return, and she said, 'i'll think of it, sir.' 'you have thought of it long enough; i want to know. will you or won't you?' 'very well; i think i will.' and then she felt that she might be buying personal safety too dearly by shuffling thus, since he would spread the report that she had accepted him, and cause endless complication. 'no,' she said, 'i have changed my mind. i cannot accept you, mr. derriman.' 'that's how you play with me!' he exclaimed, stamping. '"yes," one moment; "no," the next. come, you don't know what you refuse. that old hall is my uncle's own, and he has nobody else to leave it to. as soon as he's dead i shall throw up farming and start as a squire. and now,' he added with a bitter sneer, 'what a fool you are to hang back from such a chance!' 'thank you, i don't value it,' said anne. 'because you hate him who would make it yours?' 'it may not lie in your power to do that.' 'what--has the old fellow been telling you his affairs?' 'no.' 'then why do you mistrust me? now, after this will you open the door, and show that you treat me as a friend if you won't accept me as a lover? i only want to sit and talk to you.' anne thought she would trust him; it seemed almost impossible that he could harm her. she retired from the window and went downstairs. when her hand was upon the bolt of the door, her mind misgave her. instead of withdrawing it she remained in silence where she was, and he began again-- 'are you going to unfasten it?' anne did not speak. 'now, dash my wig, i will get at you! you've tried me beyond endurance. one kiss would have been enough that day in the mead; now i'll have forty, whether you will or no!' he flung himself against the door; but as it was bolted, and had in addition a great wooden bar across it, this produced no effect. he was silent for a moment, and then the terrified girl heard him attempt the shuttered window. she ran upstairs and again scanned the down. the yellow gig still lay in the blazing sunshine, and the horse of festus stood by the corner of the garden--nothing else was to be seen. at this moment there came to her ear the noise of a sword drawn from its scabbard; and, peeping over the window-sill, she saw her tormentor drive his sword between the joints of the shutters, in an attempt to rip them open. the sword snapped off in his hand. with an imprecation he pulled out the piece, and returned the two halves to the scabbard. 'ha! ha!' he cried, catching sight of the top of her head. ''tis only a joke, you know; but i'll get in all the same. all for a kiss! but never mind, we'll do it yet!' he spoke in an affectedly light tone, as if ashamed of his previous resentful temper; but she could see by the livid back of his neck that he was brimful of suppressed passion. 'only a jest, you know,' he went on. 'how are we going to do it now? why, in this way. i go and get a ladder, and enter at the upper window where my love is. and there's the ladder lying under that corn-rick in the first enclosed field. back in two minutes, dear!' he ran off, and was lost to her view. xxviii. anne does wonders anne fearfully surveyed her position. the upper windows of the cottage were of flimsiest lead-work, and to keep him out would be hopeless. she felt that not a moment was to be lost in getting away. running downstairs she opened the door, and then it occurred to her terrified understanding that there would be no chance of escaping him by flight afoot across such an extensive down, since he might mount his horse and easily ride after her. the animal still remained tethered at the corner of the garden; if she could release him and frighten him away before festus returned, there would not be quite such odds against her. she accordingly unhooked the horse by reaching over the bank, and then, pulling off her muslin neckerchief, flapped it in his eyes to startle him. but the gallant steed did not move or flinch; she tried again, and he seemed rather pleased than otherwise. at this moment she heard a cry from the cottage, and turning, beheld her adversary approaching round the corner of the building. 'i thought i should tole out the mouse by that trick!' cried festus exultingly. instead of going for a ladder, he had simply hidden himself at the back to tempt her down. poor anne was now desperate. the bank on which she stood was level with the horse's back, and the creature seemed quiet as a lamb. with a determination of which she was capable in emergencies, she seized the rein, flung herself upon the sheepskin, and held on by the mane. the amazed charger lifted his head, sniffed, wrenched his ears hither and thither, and started off at a frightful speed across the down. 'o, my heart and limbs!' said festus under his breath, as, thoroughly alarmed, he gazed after her. 'she on champion! she'll break her neck, and i shall be tried for manslaughter, and disgrace will be brought upon the name of derriman!' champion continued to go at a stretch-gallop, but he did nothing worse. had he plunged or reared, derriman's fears might have been verified, and anne have come with deadly force to the ground. but the course was good, and in the horse's speed lay a comparative security. she was scarcely shaken in her precarious half-horizontal position, though she was awed to see the grass, loose stones, and other objects pass her eyes like strokes whenever she opened them, which was only just for a second at intervals of half a minute; and to feel how wildly the stirrups swung, and that what struck her knee was the bucket of the carbine, and that it was a pistol-holster which hurt her arm. they quickly cleared the down, and anne became conscious that the course of the horse was homeward. as soon as the ground began to rise towards the outer belt of upland which lay between her and the coast, champion, now panting and reeking with moisture, lessened his speed in sheer weariness, and proceeded at a rapid jolting trot. anne felt that she could not hold on half so well; the gallop had been child's play compared with this. they were in a lane, ascending to a ridge, and she made up her mind for a fall. over the ridge rose an animated spot, higher and higher; it turned out to be the upper part of a man, and the man to be a soldier. such was anne's attitude that she only got an occasional glimpse of him; and, though she feared that he might be a frenchman, she feared the horse more than the enemy, as she had feared festus more than the horse. anne had energy enough left to cry, 'stop him; stop him!' as the soldier drew near. he, astonished at the sight of a military horse with a bundle of drapery across his back, had already placed himself in the middle of the lane, and he now held out his arms till his figure assumed the form of a latin cross planted in the roadway. champion drew near, swerved, and stood still almost suddenly, a check sufficient to send anne slipping down his flank to the ground. the timely friend stepped forward and helped her to her feet, when she saw that he was john loveday. 'are you hurt?' he said hastily, having turned quite pale at seeing her fall. 'o no; not a bit,' said anne, gathering herself up with forced briskness, to make light of the misadventure. 'but how did you get in such a place?' 'there, he's gone!' she exclaimed, instead of replying, as champion swept round john loveday and cantered off triumphantly in the direction of oxwell, a performance which she followed with her eyes. 'but how did you come upon his back, and whose horse is it?' 'i will tell you.' 'well?' 'i--cannot tell you.' john looked steadily at her, saying nothing. 'how did you come here?' she asked. 'is it true that the french have not landed at all?' 'quite true; the alarm was groundless. i'll tell you all about it. you look very tired. you had better sit down a few minutes. let us sit on this bank.' he helped her to the slope indicated, and continued, still as if his thoughts were more occupied with the mystery of her recent situation than with what he was saying: 'we arrived at budmouth barracks this morning, and are to lie there all the summer. i could not write to tell father we were coming. it was not because of any rumour of the french, for we knew nothing of that till we met the people on the road, and the colonel said in a moment the news was false. buonaparte is not even at boulogne just now. i was anxious to know how you had borne the fright, so i hastened to overcombe at once, as soon as i could get out of barracks.' anne, who had not been at all responsive to his discourse, now swayed heavily against him, and looking quickly down he found that she had silently fainted. to support her in his arms was of course the impulse of a moment. there was no water to be had, and he could think of nothing else but to hold her tenderly till she came round again. certainly he desired nothing more. again he asked himself, what did it all mean? he waited, looking down upon her tired eyelids, and at the row of lashes lying upon each cheek, whose natural roundness showed itself in singular perfection now that the customary pink had given place to a pale luminousness caught from the surrounding atmosphere. the dumpy ringlets about her forehead and behind her poll, which were usually as tight as springs, had been partially uncoiled by the wildness of her ride, and hung in split locks over her forehead and neck. john, who, during the long months of his absence, had lived only to meet her again, was in a state of ecstatic reverence, and bending down he gently kissed her. anne was just becoming conscious. 'o, mr. derriman, never, never!' she murmured, sweeping her face with her hand. 'i thought he was at the bottom of it,' said john. anne opened her eyes, and started back from him. 'what is it?' she said wildly. 'you are ill, my dear miss garland,' replied john in trembling anxiety, and taking her hand. 'i am not ill, i am wearied out!' she said. 'can't we walk on? how far are we from overcombe?' 'about a mile. but tell me, somebody has been hurting you--frightening you. i know who it was; it was derriman, and that was his horse. now do you tell me all.' anne reflected. 'then if i tell you,' she said, 'will you discuss with me what i had better do, and not for the present let my mother and your father know? i don't want to alarm them, and i must not let my affairs interrupt the business connexion between the mill and the hall that has gone on for so many years.' the trumpet-major promised, and anne told the adventure. his brow reddened as she went on, and when she had done she said, 'now you are angry. don't do anything dreadful, will you? remember that this festus will most likely succeed his uncle at oxwell, in spite of present appearances, and if bob succeeds at the mill there should be no enmity between them.' 'that's true. i won't tell bob. leave him to me. where is derriman now? on his way home, i suppose. when i have seen you into the house i will deal with him--quite quietly, so that he shall say nothing about it.' 'yes, appeal to him, do! perhaps he will be better then.' they walked on together, loveday seeming to experience much quiet bliss. 'i came to look for you,' he said, 'because of that dear, sweet letter you wrote.' 'yes, i did write you a letter,' she admitted, with misgiving, now beginning to see her mistake. 'it was because i was sorry i had blamed you.' 'i am almost glad you did blame me,' said john cheerfully, 'since, if you had not, the letter would not have come. i have read it fifty times a day.' this put anne into an unhappy mood, and they proceeded without much further talk till the mill chimneys were visible below them. john then said that he would leave her to go in by herself. 'ah, you are going back to get into some danger on my account?' 'i can't get into much danger with such a fellow as he, can i?' said john, smiling. 'well, no,' she answered, with a sudden carelessness of tone. it was indispensable that he should be undeceived, and to begin the process by taking an affectedly light view of his personal risks was perhaps as good a way to do it as any. where friendliness was construed as love, an assumed indifference was the necessary expression for friendliness. so she let him go; and, bidding him hasten back as soon as he could, went down the hill, while john's feet retraced the upland. the trumpet-major spent the whole afternoon and evening in that long and difficult search for festus derriman. crossing the down at the end of the second hour he met molly and mrs. loveday. the gig had been repaired, they had learnt the groundlessness of the alarm, and they would have been proceeding happily enough but for their anxiety about anne. john told them shortly that she had got a lift home, and proceeded on his way. the worthy object of his search had in the meantime been plodding homeward on foot, sulky at the loss of his charger, encumbered with his sword, belts, high boots, and uniform, and in his own discomfiture careless whether anne garland's life had been endangered or not. at length derriman reached a place where the road ran between high banks, one of which he mounted and paced along as a change from the hard trackway. ahead of him he saw an old man sitting down, with eyes fixed on the dust of the road, as if resting and meditating at one and the same time. being pretty sure that he recognized his uncle in that venerable figure, festus came forward stealthily, till he was immediately above the old man's back. the latter was clothed in faded nankeen breeches, speckled stockings, a drab hat, and a coat which had once been light blue, but from exposure as a scarecrow had assumed the complexion and fibre of a dried pudding-cloth. the farmer was, in fact, returning to the hall, which he had left in the morning some time later than his nephew, to seek an asylum in a hollow tree about two miles off. the tree was so situated as to command a view of the building, and uncle benjy had managed to clamber up inside this natural fortification high enough to watch his residence through a hole in the bark, till, gathering from the words of occasional passers-by that the alarm was at least premature, he had ventured into daylight again. he was now engaged in abstractedly tracing a diagram in the dust with his walking-stick, and muttered words to himself aloud. presently he arose and went on his way without turning round. festus was curious enough to descend and look at the marks. they represented an oblong, with two semi- diagonals, and a little square in the middle. upon the diagonals were the figures and , and on each side of the parallelogram stood a letter signifying the point of the compass. 'what crazy thing is running in his head now?' said festus to himself, with supercilious pity, recollecting that the farmer had been singing those very numbers earlier in the morning. being able to make nothing of it, he lengthened his strides, and treading on tiptoe overtook his relative, saluting him by scratching his back like a hen. the startled old farmer danced round like a top, and gasping, said, as he perceived his nephew, 'what, festy! not thrown from your horse and killed, then, after all!' 'no, nunc. what made ye think that?' 'champion passed me about an hour ago, when i was in hiding--poor timid soul of me, for i had nothing to lose by the french coming--and he looked awful with the stirrups dangling and the saddle empty. 'tis a gloomy sight, festy, to see a horse cantering without a rider, and i thought you had been--feared you had been thrown off and killed as dead as a nit.' 'bless your dear old heart for being so anxious! and what pretty picture were you drawing just now with your walking-stick!' 'o, that! that is only a way i have of amusing myself. it showed how the french might have advanced to the attack, you know. such trifles fill the head of a weak old man like me.' 'or the place where something is hid away--money, for instance?' 'festy,' said the farmer reproachfully, 'you always know i use the old glove in the bedroom cupboard for any guinea or two i possess.' 'of course i do,' said festus ironically. they had now reached a lonely inn about a mile and a half from the hall, and, the farmer not responding to his nephew's kind invitation to come in and treat him, festus entered alone. he was dusty, draggled, and weary, and he remained at the tavern long. the trumpet-major, in the meantime, having searched the roads in vain, heard in the course of the evening of the yeoman's arrival at this place, and that he would probably be found there still. he accordingly approached the door, reaching it just as the dusk of evening changed to darkness. there was no light in the passage, but john pushed on at hazard, inquired for derriman, and was told that he would be found in the back parlour alone. when loveday first entered the apartment he was unable to see anything, but following the guidance of a vigorous snoring, he came to the settle, upon which festus lay asleep, his position being faintly signified by the shine of his buttons and other parts of his uniform. john laid his hand upon the reclining figure and shook him, and by degrees derriman stopped his snore and sat up. 'who are you?' he said, in the accents of a man who has been drinking hard. 'is it you, dear anne? let me kiss you; yes, i will.' 'shut your mouth, you pitiful blockhead; i'll teach you genteeler manners than to persecute a young woman in that way!' and taking festus by the ear, he gave it a good pull. festus broke out with an oath, and struck a vague blow in the air with his fist; whereupon the trumpet-major dealt him a box on the right ear, and a similar one on the left to artistically balance the first. festus jumped up and used his fists wildly, but without any definite result. 'want to fight, do ye, eh?' said john. 'nonsense! you can't fight, you great baby, and never could. you are only fit to be smacked!' and he dealt festus a specimen of the same on the cheek with the palm of his hand. 'no, sir, no! o, you are loveday, the young man she's going to be married to, i suppose? dash me, i didn't want to hurt her, sir.' 'yes, my name is loveday; and you'll know where to find me, since we can't finish this to-night. pistols or swords, whichever you like, my boy. take that, and that, so that you may not forget to call upon me!' and again he smacked the yeoman's ears and cheeks. 'do you know what it is for, eh?' 'no, mr. loveday, sir--yes, i mean, i do.' 'what is it for, then? i shall keep smacking until you tell me. gad! if you weren't drunk, i'd half kill you here to-night.' 'it is because i served her badly. damned if i care! i'll do it again, and be hanged to 'ee! where's my horse champion? tell me that,' and he hit at the trumpet-major. john parried this attack, and taking him firmly by the collar, pushed him down into the seat, saying, 'here i hold 'ee till you beg pardon for your doings to-day. do you want any more of it, do you?' and he shook the yeoman to a sort of jelly. 'i do beg pardon--no, i don't. i say this, that you shall not take such liberties with old squire derriman's nephew, you dirty miller's son, you flour-worm, you smut in the corn! i'll call you out to-morrow morning, and have my revenge.' 'of course you will; that's what i came for.' and pushing him back into the corner of the settle, loveday went out of the house, feeling considerable satisfaction at having got himself into the beginning of as nice a quarrel about anne garland as the most jealous lover could desire. but of one feature in this curious adventure he had not the least notion--that festus derriman, misled by the darkness, the fumes of his potations, and the constant sight of anne and bob together, never once supposed his assailant to be any other man than bob, believing the trumpet-major miles away. there was a moon during the early part of john's walk home, but when he had arrived within a mile of overcombe the sky clouded over, and rain suddenly began to fall with some violence. near him was a wooden granary on tall stone staddles, and perceiving that the rain was only a thunderstorm which would soon pass away, he ascended the steps and entered the doorway, where he stood watching the half-obscured moon through the streaming rain. presently, to his surprise, he beheld a female figure running forward with great rapidity, not towards the granary for shelter, but towards open ground. what could she be running for in that direction? the answer came in the appearance of his brother bob from that quarter, seated on the back of his father's heavy horse. as soon as the woman met him, bob dismounted and caught her in his arms. they stood locked together, the rain beating into their unconscious forms, and the horse looking on. the trumpet-major fell back inside the granary, and threw himself on a heap of empty sacks which lay in the corner: he had recognized the woman to be anne. here he reclined in a stupor till he was aroused by the sound of voices under him, the voices of anne and his brother, who, having at last discovered that they were getting wet, had taken shelter under the granary floor. 'i have been home,' said she. 'mother and molly have both got back long ago. we were all anxious about you, and i came out to look for you. o, bob, i am so glad to see you again!' john might have heard every word of the conversation, which was continued in the same strain for a long time; but he stopped his ears, and would not. still they remained, and still was he determined that they should not see him. with the conserved hope of more than half a year dashed away in a moment, he could yet feel that the cruelty of a protest would be even greater than its inutility. it was absolutely by his own contrivance that the situation had been shaped. bob, left to himself, would long ere this have been the husband of another woman. the rain decreased, and the lovers went on. john looked after them as they strolled, aqua-tinted by the weak moon and mist. bob had thrust one of his arms through the rein of the horse, and the other was round anne's waist. when they were lost behind the declivity the trumpet-major came out, and walked homeward even more slowly than they. as he went on, his face put off its complexion of despair for one of serene resolve. for the first time in his dealings with friends he entered upon a course of counterfeiting, set his features to conceal his thought, and instructed his tongue to do likewise. he threw fictitiousness into his very gait, even now, when there was nobody to see him, and struck at stems of wild parsley with his regimental switch as he had used to do when soldiering was new to him, and life in general a charming experience. thus cloaking his sickly thought, he descended to the mill as the others had done before him, occasionally looking down upon the wet road to notice how close anne's little tracks were to bob's all the way along, and how precisely a curve in his course was followed by a curve in hers. but after this he erected his head and walked so smartly up to the front door that his spurs rang through the court. they had all reached home, but before any of them could speak he cried gaily, 'ah, bob, i have been thinking of you! by god, how are you, my boy? no french cut-throats after all, you see. here we are, well and happy together again.' 'a good providence has watched over us,' said mrs. loveday cheerfully. 'yes, in all times and places we are in god's hand.' 'so we be, so we be!' said the miller, who still shone in all the fierceness of uniform. 'well, now we'll ha'e a drop o' drink.' 'there's none,' said david, coming forward with a drawn face. 'what!' said the miller. 'afore i went to church for a pike to defend my native country from boney, i pulled out the spigots of all the barrels, maister; for, thinks i--damn him!--since we can't drink it ourselves, he shan't have it, nor none of his men.' 'but you shouldn't have done it till you was sure he'd come!' said the miller, aghast. 'chok' it all, i was sure!' said david. 'i'd sooner see churches fall than good drink wasted; but how was i to know better?' 'well, well; what with one thing and another this day will cost me a pretty penny!' said loveday, bustling off to the cellar, which he found to be several inches deep in stagnant liquor. 'john, how can i welcome 'ee?' he continued hopelessly, on his return to the room. 'only go and see what he's done!' 'i've ladled up a drap wi' a spoon, trumpet-major,' said david. ''tisn't bad drinking, though it do taste a little of the floor, that's true.' john said that he did not require anything at all; and then they all sat down to supper, and were very temperately gay with a drop of mild elder- wine which mrs. loveday found in the bottom of a jar. the trumpet-major, adhering to the part he meant to play, gave humorous accounts of his adventures since he had last sat there. he told them that the season was to be a very lively one--that the royal family was coming, as usual, and many other interesting things; so that when he left them to return to barracks few would have supposed the british army to contain a lighter- hearted man. anne was the only one who doubted the reality of this behaviour. when she had gone up to her bedroom she stood for some time looking at the wick of the candle as if it were a painful object, the expression of her face being shaped by the conviction that john's afternoon words when he helped her out of the way of champion were not in accordance with his words to-night, and that the dimly-realized kiss during her faintness was no imaginary one. but in the blissful circumstances of having bob at hand again she took optimist views, and persuaded herself that john would soon begin to see her in the light of a sister. xxix. a dissembler to cursory view, john loveday seemed to accomplish this with amazing ease. whenever he came from barracks to overcombe, which was once or twice a week, he related news of all sorts to her and bob with infinite zest, and made the time as happy a one as had ever been known at the mill, save for himself alone. he said nothing of festus, except so far as to inform anne that he had expected to see him and been disappointed. on the evening after the king's arrival at his seaside residence john appeared again, staying to supper and describing the royal entry, the many tasteful illuminations and transparencies which had been exhibited, the quantities of tallow candles burnt for that purpose, and the swarms of aristocracy who had followed the king thither. when supper was over bob went outside the house to shut the shutters, which had, as was often the case, been left open some time after lights were kindled within. john still sat at the table when his brother approached the window, though the others had risen and retired. bob was struck by seeing through the pane how john's face had changed. throughout the supper-time he had been talking to anne in the gay tone habitual with him now, which gave greater strangeness to the gloom of his present appearance. he remained in thought for a moment, took a letter from his breast-pocket, opened it, and, with a tender smile at his weakness, kissed the writing before restoring it to its place. the letter was one that anne had written to him at exonbury. bob stood perplexed; and then a suspicion crossed his mind that john, from brotherly goodness, might be feigning a satisfaction with recent events which he did not feel. bob now made a noise with the shutters, at which the trumpet-major rose and went out, bob at once following him. 'jack,' said the sailor ingenuously, 'i'm terribly sorry that i've done wrong.' 'how?' asked his brother. 'in courting our little anne. well, you see, john, she was in the same house with me, and somehow or other i made myself her beau. but i have been thinking that perhaps you had the first claim on her, and if so, jack, i'll make way for 'ee. i--i don't care for her much, you know--not so very much, and can give her up very well. it is nothing serious between us at all. yes, john, you try to get her; i can look elsewhere.' bob never knew how much he loved anne till he found himself making this speech of renunciation. 'o bob, you are mistaken!' said the trumpet-major, who was not deceived. 'when i first saw her i admired her, and i admire her now, and like her. i like her so well that i shall be glad to see you marry her.' 'but,' replied bob, with hesitation, 'i thought i saw you looking very sad, as if you were in love; i saw you take out a letter, in short. that's what it was disturbed me and made me come to you.' 'o, i see your mistake!' said john, laughing forcedly. at this minute mrs. loveday and the miller, who were taking a twilight walk in the garden, strolled round near to where the brothers stood. she talked volubly on events in budmouth, as most people did at this time. 'and they tell me that the theatre has been painted up afresh,' she was saying, 'and that the actors have come for the season, with the most lovely actresses that ever were seen.' when they had passed by john continued, 'i _am_ in love, bob; but--not with anne.' 'ah! who is it then?' said the mate hopefully. 'one of the actresses at the theatre,' john replied, with a concoctive look at the vanishing forms of mr. and mrs. loveday. 'she is a very lovely woman, you know. but we won't say anything more about it--it dashes a man so.' 'o, one of the actresses!' said bob, with open mouth. 'but don't you say anything about it!' continued the trumpet-major heartily. 'i don't want it known.' 'no, no--i won't, of course. may i not know her name?' 'no, not now, bob. i cannot tell 'ee,' john answered, and with truth, for loveday did not know the name of any actress in the world. when his brother had gone, captain bob hastened off in a state of great animation to anne, whom he found on the top of a neighbouring hillock which the daylight had scarcely as yet deserted. 'you have been a long time coming, sir,' said she, in sprightly tones of reproach. 'yes, dearest; and you'll be glad to hear why. i've found out the whole mystery--yes--why he's queer, and everything.' anne looked startled. 'he's up to the gunnel in love! we must try to help him on in it, or i fear he'll go melancholy-mad like.' 'we help him?' she asked faintly. 'he's lost his heart to one of the play-actresses at budmouth, and i think she slights him.' 'o, i am so glad!' she exclaimed. 'glad that his venture don't prosper?' 'o no; glad he's so sensible. how long is it since that alarm of the french?' 'six weeks, honey. why do you ask?' 'men can forget in six weeks, can't they, bob?' the impression that john had really kissed her still remained. 'well, some men might,' observed bob judicially. '_i_ couldn't. perhaps john might. i couldn't forget _you_ in twenty times as long. do you know, anne, i half thought it was you john cared about; and it was a weight off my heart when he said he didn't.' 'did he say he didn't?' 'yes. he assured me himself that the only person in the hold of his heart was this lovely play-actress, and nobody else.' 'how i should like to see her!' 'yes. so should i.' 'i would rather it had been one of our own neighbours' girls, whose birth and breeding we know of; but still, if that is his taste, i hope it will end well for him. how very quick he has been! i certainly wish we could see her.' 'i don't know so much as her name. he is very close, and wouldn't tell a thing about her.' 'couldn't we get him to go to the theatre with us? and then we could watch him, and easily find out the right one. then we would learn if she is a good young woman; and if she is, could we not ask her here, and so make it smoother for him? he has been very gay lately; that means budding love: and sometimes between his gaieties he has had melancholy moments; that means there's difficulty.' bob thought her plan a good one, and resolved to put it in practice on the first available evening. anne was very curious as to whether john did really cherish a new passion, the story having quite surprised her. possibly it was true; six weeks had passed since john had shown a single symptom of the old attachment, and what could not that space of time effect in the heart of a soldier whose very profession it was to leave girls behind him? after this john loveday did not come to see them for nearly a month, a neglect which was set down by bob as an additional proof that his brother's affections were no longer exclusively centred in his old home. when at last he did arrive, and the theatre-going was mentioned to him, the flush of consciousness which anne expected to see upon his face was unaccountably absent. 'yes, bob; i should very well like to go to the theatre,' he replied heartily. 'who is going besides?' 'only anne,' bob told him, and then it seemed to occur to the trumpet- major that something had been expected of him. he rose and said privately to bob with some confusion, 'o yes, of course we'll go. as i am connected with one of the--in short i can get you in for nothing, you know. at least let me manage everything.' 'yes, yes. i wonder you didn't propose to take us before, jack, and let us have a good look at her.' 'i ought to have. you shall go on a king's night. you won't want me to point her out, bob; i have my reasons at present for asking it?' 'we'll be content with guessing,' said his brother. when the gallant john was gone, anne observed, 'bob, how he is changed! i watched him. he showed no feeling, even when you burst upon him suddenly with the subject nearest his heart.' 'it must be because his suit don't fay,' said captain bob. xxx. at the theatre royal in two or three days a message arrived asking them to attend at the theatre on the coming evening, with the added request that they would dress in their gayest clothes, to do justice to the places taken. accordingly, in the course of the afternoon they drove off, bob having clothed himself in a splendid suit, recently purchased as an attempt to bring himself nearer to anne's style when they appeared in public together. as finished off by this dashing and really fashionable attire, he was the perfection of a beau in the dog-days; pantaloons and boots of the newest make; yards and yards of muslin wound round his neck, forming a sort of asylum for the lower part of his face; two fancy waistcoats, and coat-buttons like circular shaving glasses. the absurd extreme of female fashion, which was to wear muslin dresses in january, was at this time equalled by that of the men, who wore clothes enough in august to melt them. nobody would have guessed from bob's presentation now that he had ever been aloft on a dark night in the atlantic, or knew the hundred ingenuities that could be performed with a rope's end and a marline-spike as well as his mother tongue. it was a day of days. anne wore her celebrated celestial blue pelisse, her leghorn hat, and her muslin dress with the waist under the arms; the latter being decorated with excellent honiton lace bought of the woman who travelled from that place to overcombe and its neighbourhood with a basketful of her own manufacture, and a cushion on which she worked by the wayside. john met the lovers at the inn outside the town, and after stabling the horse they entered the town together, the trumpet-major informing them that the watering-place had never been so full before, that the court, the prince of wales, and everybody of consequence was there, and that an attic could scarcely be got for money. the king had gone for a cruise in his yacht, and they would be in time to see him land. then drums and fifes were heard, and in a minute or two they saw sergeant stanner advancing along the street with a firm countenance, fiery poll, and rigid staring eyes, in front of his recruiting-party. the sergeant's sword was drawn, and at intervals of two or three inches along its shining blade were impaled fluttering one-pound notes, to express the lavish bounty that was offered. he gave a stern, suppressed nod of friendship to our people, and passed by. next they came up to a waggon, bowered over with leaves and flowers, so that the men inside could hardly be seen. 'come to see the king, hip-hip hurrah!' cried a voice within, and turning they saw through the leaves the nose and face of cripplestraw. the waggon contained all derriman's workpeople. 'is your master here?' said john. 'no, trumpet-major, sir. but young maister is coming to fetch us at nine o'clock, in case we should be too blind to drive home.' 'o! where is he now?' 'never mind,' said anne impatiently, at which the trumpet-major obediently moved on. by the time they reached the pier it was six o'clock; the royal yacht was returning; a fact announced by the ships in the harbour firing a salute. the king came ashore with his hat in his hand, and returned the salutations of the well-dressed crowd in his old indiscriminate fashion. while this cheering and waving of handkerchiefs was going on anne stood between the two brothers, who protectingly joined their hands behind her back, as if she were a delicate piece of statuary that a push might damage. soon the king had passed, and receiving the military salutes of the piquet, joined the queen and princesses at gloucester lodge, the homely house of red brick in which he unostentatiously resided. as there was yet some little time before the theatre would open, they strayed upon the velvet sands, and listened to the songs of the sailors, one of whom extemporized for the occasion:-- 'portland road the king aboard, the king aboard! portland road the king aboard, we weighed and sailed from portland road!' { } when they had looked on awhile at the combats at single-stick which were in progress hard by, and seen the sum of five guineas handed over to the modest gentleman who had broken most heads, they returned to gloucester lodge, whence the king and other members of his family now reappeared, and drove, at a slow trot, round to the theatre in carriages drawn by the hanoverian white horses that were so well known in the town at this date. when anne and bob entered the theatre they found that john had taken excellent places, and concluded that he had got them for nothing through the influence of the lady of his choice. as a matter of fact he had paid full prices for those two seats, like any other outsider, and even then had a difficulty in getting them, it being a king's night. when they were settled he himself retired to an obscure part of the pit, from which the stage was scarcely visible. 'we can see beautifully,' said bob, in an aristocratic voice, as he took a delicate pinch of snuff, and drew out the magnificent pocket-handkerchief brought home from the east for such occasions. 'but i am afraid poor john can't see at all.' 'but we can see him,' replied anne, 'and notice by his face which of them it is he is so charmed with. the light of that corner candle falls right upon his cheek.' by this time the king had appeared in his place, which was overhung by a canopy of crimson satin fringed with gold. about twenty places were occupied by the royal family and suite; and beyond them was a crowd of powdered and glittering personages of fashion, completely filling the centre of the little building; though the king so frequently patronized the local stage during these years that the crush was not inconvenient. the curtain rose and the play began. to-night it was one of colman's, who at this time enjoyed great popularity, and mr. bannister supported the leading character. anne, with her hand privately clasped in bob's, and looking as if she did not know it, partly watched the piece and partly the face of the impressionable john who had so soon transferred his affections elsewhere. she had not long to wait. when a certain one of the subordinate ladies of the comedy entered on the stage the trumpet- major in his corner not only looked conscious, but started and gazed with parted lips. 'this must be the one,' whispered anne quickly. 'see, he is agitated!' she turned to bob, but at the same moment his hand convulsively closed upon hers as he, too, strangely fixed his eyes upon the newly-entered lady. 'what is it?' anne looked from one to the other without regarding the stage at all. her answer came in the voice of the actress who now spoke for the first time. the accents were those of miss matilda johnson. one thought rushed into both their minds on the instant, and bob was the first to utter it. 'what--is she the woman of his choice after all?' 'if so, it is a dreadful thing!' murmured anne. but, as may be imagined, the unfortunate john was as much surprised by this rencounter as the other two. until this moment he had been in utter ignorance of the theatrical company and all that pertained to it. moreover, much as he knew of miss johnson, he was not aware that she had ever been trained in her youth as an actress, and that after lapsing into straits and difficulties for a couple of years she had been so fortunate as to again procure an engagement here. the trumpet-major, though not prominently seated, had been seen by matilda already, who had observed still more plainly her old betrothed and anne in the other part of the house. john was not concerned on his own account at being face to face with her, but at the extraordinary suspicion that this conjuncture must revive in the minds of his best beloved friends. after some moments of pained reflection he tapped his knee. 'gad, i won't explain; it shall go as it is!' he said. 'let them think her mine. better that than the truth, after all.' had personal prominence in the scene been at this moment proportioned to intentness of feeling, the whole audience, regal and otherwise, would have faded into an indistinct mist of background, leaving as the sole emergent and telling figures bob and anne at one point, the trumpet-major on the left hand, and matilda at the opposite corner of the stage. but fortunately the deadlock of awkward suspense into which all four had fallen was terminated by an accident. a messenger entered the king's box with despatches. there was an instant pause in the performance. the despatch-box being opened the king read for a few moments with great interest, the eyes of the whole house, including those of anne garland, being anxiously fixed upon his face; for terrible events fell as unexpectedly as thunderbolts at this critical time of our history. the king at length beckoned to lord ---, who was immediately behind him, the play was again stopped, and the contents of the despatch were publicly communicated to the audience. sir robert calder, cruising off finisterre, had come in sight of villeneuve, and made the signal for action, which, though checked by the weather, had resulted in the capture of two spanish line-of-battle ships, and the retreat of villeneuve into ferrol. the news was received with truly national feeling, if noise might be taken as an index of patriotism. 'rule britannia' was called for and sung by the whole house. but the importance of the event was far from being recognized at this time; and bob loveday, as he sat there and heard it, had very little conception how it would bear upon his destiny. this parenthetic excitement diverted for a few minutes the eyes of bob and anne from the trumpet-major; and when the play proceeded, and they looked back to his corner, he was gone. 'he's just slipped round to talk to her behind the scenes,' said bob knowingly. 'shall we go too, and tease him for a sly dog?' 'no, i would rather not.' 'shall we go home, then?' 'not unless her presence is too much for you?' 'o--not at all. we'll stay here. ah, there she is again.' they sat on, and listened to matilda's speeches which she delivered with such delightful coolness that they soon began to considerably interest one of the party. 'well, what a nerve the young woman has!' he said at last in tones of admiration, and gazing at miss johnson with all his might. 'after all, jack's taste is not so bad. she's really deuced clever.' 'bob, i'll go home if you wish to,' said anne quickly. 'o no--let us see how she fleets herself off that bit of a scrape she's playing at now. well, what a hand she is at it, to be sure!' anne said no more, but waited on, supremely uncomfortable, and almost tearful. she began to feel that she did not like life particularly well; it was too complicated: she saw nothing of the scene, and only longed to get away, and to get bob away with her. at last the curtain fell on the final act, and then began the farce of 'no song no supper.' matilda did not appear in this piece, and anne again inquired if they should go home. this time bob agreed, and taking her under his care with redoubled affection, to make up for the species of coma which had seized upon his heart for a time, he quietly accompanied her out of the house. when they emerged upon the esplanade, the august moon was shining across the sea from the direction of st. aldhelm's head. bob unconsciously loitered, and turned towards the pier. reaching the end of the promenade they surveyed the quivering waters in silence for some time, until a long dark line shot from behind the promontory of the nothe, and swept forward into the harbour. 'what boat is that?' said anne. 'it seems to be some frigate lying in the roads,' said bob carelessly, as he brought anne round with a gentle pressure of his arm and bent his steps towards the homeward end of the town. meanwhile, miss johnson, having finished her duties for that evening, rapidly changed her dress, and went out likewise. the prominent position which anne and captain bob had occupied side by side in the theatre, left her no alternative but to suppose that the situation was arranged by bob as a species of defiance to herself; and her heart, such as it was, became proportionately embittered against him. in spite of the rise in her fortunes, miss johnson still remembered--and always would remember--her humiliating departure from overcombe; and it had been to her even a more grievous thing that bob had acquiesced in his brother's ruling than that john had determined it. at the time of setting out she was sustained by a firm faith that bob would follow her, and nullify his brother's scheme; but though she waited bob never came. she passed along by the houses facing the sea, and scanned the shore, the footway, and the open road close to her, which, illuminated by the slanting moon to a great brightness, sparkled with minute facets of crystallized salts from the water sprinkled there during the day. the promenaders at the further edge appeared in dark profiles; and beyond them was the grey sea, parted into two masses by the tapering braid of moonlight across the waves. two forms crossed this line at a startling nearness to her; she marked them at once as anne and bob loveday. they were walking slowly, and in the earnestness of their discourse were oblivious of the presence of any human beings save themselves. matilda stood motionless till they had passed. 'how i love them!' she said, treading the initial step of her walk onwards with a vehemence that walking did not demand. 'so do i--especially one,' said a voice at her elbow; and a man wheeled round her, and looked in her face, which had been fully exposed to the moon. 'you--who are you?' she asked. 'don't you remember, ma'am? we walked some way together towards overcombe earlier in the summer.' matilda looked more closely, and perceived that the speaker was derriman, in plain clothes. he continued, 'you are one of the ladies of the theatre, i know. may i ask why you said in such a queer way that you loved that couple?' 'in a queer way?' 'well, as if you hated them.' 'i don't mind your knowing that i have good reason to hate them. you do too, it seems?' 'that man,' said festus savagely, 'came to me one night about that very woman; insulted me before i could put myself on my guard, and ran away before i could come up with him and avenge myself. the woman tricks me at every turn! i want to part 'em.' 'then why don't you? there's a splendid opportunity. do you see that soldier walking along? he's a marine; he looks into the gallery of the theatre every night: and he's in connexion with the press-gang that came ashore just now from the frigate lying in portland roads. they are often here for men.' 'yes. our boatmen dread 'em.' 'well, we have only to tell him that loveday is a seaman to be clear of him this very night.' 'done!' said festus. 'take my arm and come this way.' they walked across to the footway. 'fine night, sergeant.' 'it is, sir.' 'looking for hands, i suppose?' 'it is not to be known, sir. we don't begin till half past ten.' 'it is a pity you don't begin now. i could show 'ee excellent game.' 'what, that little nest of fellows at the "old rooms" in cove row? i have just heard of 'em.' 'no--come here.' festus, with miss johnson on his arm, led the sergeant quickly along the parade, and by the time they reached the narrows the lovers, who walked but slowly, were visible in front of them. 'there's your man,' he said. 'that buck in pantaloons and half-boots--a looking like a squire?' 'twelve months ago he was mate of the brig pewit; but his father has made money, and keeps him at home.' 'faith, now you tell of it, there's a hint of sea legs about him. what's the young beau's name?' 'don't tell!' whispered matilda, impulsively clutching festus's arm. but festus had already said, 'robert loveday, son of the miller at overcombe. you may find several likely fellows in that neighbourhood.' the marine said that he would bear it in mind, and they left him. 'i wish you had not told,' said matilda tearfully. 'she's the worst!' 'dash my eyes now; listen to that! why, you chicken-hearted old stager, you was as well agreed as i. come now; hasn't he used you badly?' matilda's acrimony returned. 'i was down on my luck, or he wouldn't have had the chance!' she said. 'well, then, let things be.' xxxi. midnight visitors miss garland and loveday walked leisurely to the inn and called for horse- and-gig. while the hostler was bringing it round, the landlord, who knew bob and his family well, spoke to him quietly in the passage. 'is this then because you want to throw dust in the eyes of the black diamond chaps?' (with an admiring glance at bob's costume). 'the black diamond?' said bob; and anne turned pale. 'she hove in sight just after dark, and at nine o'clock a boat having more than a dozen marines on board, with cloaks on, rowed into harbour.' bob reflected. 'then there'll be a press to-night; depend upon it,' he said. 'they won't know you, will they, bob?' said anne anxiously. 'they certainly won't know him for a seaman now,' remarked the landlord, laughing, and again surveying bob up and down. 'but if i was you two, i should drive home-along straight and quiet; and be very busy in the mill all to-morrow, mr. loveday.' they drove away; and when they had got onward out of the town, anne strained her eyes wistfully towards portland. its dark contour, lying like a whale on the sea, was just perceptible in the gloom as the background to half-a-dozen ships' lights nearer at hand. 'they can't make you go, now you are a gentleman tradesman, can they?' she asked. 'if they want me they can have me, dearest. i have often said i ought to volunteer.' 'and not care about me at all?' 'it is just that that keeps me at home. i won't leave you if i can help it.' 'it cannot make such a vast difference to the country whether one man goes or stays! but if you want to go you had better, and not mind us at all!' bob put a period to her speech by a mark of affection to which history affords many parallels in every age. she said no more about the black diamond; but whenever they ascended a hill she turned her head to look at the lights in portland roads, and the grey expanse of intervening sea. though captain bob had stated that he did not wish to volunteer, and would not leave her if he could help it, the remark required some qualification. that anne was charming and loving enough to chain him anywhere was true; but he had begun to find the mill-work terribly irksome at times. often during the last month, when standing among the rumbling cogs in his new miller's suit, which ill became him, he had yawned, thought wistfully of the old pea-jacket, and the waters of the deep blue sea. his dread of displeasing his father by showing anything of this change of sentiment was great; yet he might have braved it but for knowing that his marriage with anne, which he hoped might take place the next year, was dependent entirely upon his adherence to the mill business. even were his father indifferent, mrs. loveday would never intrust her only daughter to the hands of a husband who would be away from home five-sixths of his time. but though, apart from anne, he was not averse to seafaring in itself, to be smuggled thither by the machinery of a press-gang was intolerable; and the process of seizing, stunning, pinioning, and carrying off unwilling hands was one which bob as a man had always determined to hold out against to the utmost of his power. hence, as they went towards home, he frequently listened for sounds behind him, but hearing none he assured his sweetheart that they were safe for that night at least. the mill was still going when they arrived, though old mr. loveday was not to be seen; he had retired as soon as he heard the horse's hoofs in the lane, leaving bob to watch the grinding till three o'clock; when the elder would rise, and bob withdraw to bed--a frequent arrangement between them since bob had taken the place of grinder. having reached the privacy of her own room, anne threw open the window, for she had not the slightest intention of going to bed just yet. the tale of the black diamond had disturbed her by a slow, insidious process that was worse than sudden fright. her window looked into the court before the house, now wrapped in the shadow of the trees and the hill; and she leaned upon its sill listening intently. she could have heard any strange sound distinctly enough in one direction; but in the other all low noises were absorbed in the patter of the mill, and the rush of water down the race. however, what she heard came from the hitherto silent side, and was intelligible in a moment as being the footsteps of men. she tried to think they were some late stragglers from budmouth. alas! no; the tramp was too regular for that of villagers. she hastily turned, extinguished the candle, and listened again. as they were on the main road there was, after all, every probability that the party would pass the bridge which gave access to the mill court without turning in upon it, or even noticing that such an entrance existed. in this again she was disappointed: they crossed into the front without a pause. the pulsations of her heart became a turmoil now, for why should these men, if they were the press-gang, and strangers to the locality, have supposed that a sailor was to be found here, the younger of the two millers loveday being never seen now in any garb which could suggest that he was other than a miller pure, like his father? one of the men spoke. 'i am not sure that we are in the right place,' he said. 'this is a mill, anyhow,' said another. 'there's lots about here.' 'then come this way a moment with your light.' two of the group went towards the cart-house on the opposite side of the yard, and when they reached it a dark lantern was opened, the rays being directed upon the front of the miller's waggon. '"loveday and son, overcombe mill,"' continued the man, reading from the waggon. '"son," you see, is lately painted in. that's our man.' he moved to turn off the light, but before he had done so it flashed over the forms of the speakers, and revealed a sergeant, a naval officer, and a file of marines. anne waited to see no more. when bob stayed up to grind, as he was doing to-night, he often sat in his room instead of remaining all the time in the mill; and this room was an isolated chamber over the bakehouse, which could not be reached without going downstairs and ascending the step-ladder that served for his staircase. anne descended in the dark, clambered up the ladder, and saw that light strayed through the chink below the door. his window faced towards the garden, and hence the light could not as yet have been seen by the press-gang. 'bob, dear bob!' she said, through the keyhole. 'put out your light, and run out of the back-door!' 'why?' said bob, leisurely knocking the ashes from the pipe he had been smoking. 'the press-gang!' 'they have come? by god! who can have blown upon me? all right, dearest. i'm game.' anne, scarcely knowing what she did, descended the ladder and ran to the back-door, hastily unbolting it to save bob's time, and gently opening it in readiness for him. she had no sooner done this than she felt hands laid upon her shoulder from without, and a voice exclaiming, 'that's how we doos it--quite an obleeging young man!' though the hands held her rather roughly, anne did not mind for herself, and turning she cried desperately, in tones intended to reach bob's ears: 'they are at the back-door; try the front!' but inexperienced miss garland little knew the shrewd habits of the gentlemen she had to deal with, who, well used to this sort of pastime, had already posted themselves at every outlet from the premises. 'bring the lantern,' shouted the fellow who held her. 'why--'tis a girl! i half thought so--here is a way in,' he continued to his comrades, hastening to the foot of the ladder which led to bob's room. 'what d'ye want?' said bob, quietly opening the door, and showing himself still radiant in the full dress that he had worn with such effect at the theatre royal, which he had been about to change for his mill suit when anne gave the alarm. 'this gentleman can't be the right one,' observed a marine, rather impressed by bob's appearance. 'yes, yes; that's the man,' said the sergeant. 'now take it quietly, my young cock-o'-wax. you look as if you meant to, and 'tis wise of ye.' 'where are you going to take me?' said bob. 'only aboard the black diamond. if you choose to take the bounty and come voluntarily, you'll be allowed to go ashore whenever your ship's in port. if you don't, and we've got to pinion ye, you will not have your liberty at all. as you must come, willy-nilly, you'll do the first if you've any brains whatever.' bob's temper began to rise. 'don't you talk so large, about your pinioning, my man. when i've settled--' 'now or never, young blow-hard,' interrupted his informant. 'come, what jabber is this going on?' said the lieutenant, stepping forward. 'bring your man.' one of the marines set foot on the ladder, but at the same moment a shoe from bob's hand hit the lantern with well-aimed directness, knocking it clean out of the grasp of the man who held it. in spite of the darkness they began to scramble up the ladder. bob thereupon shut the door, which being but of slight construction, was as he knew only a momentary defence. but it gained him time enough to open the window, gather up his legs upon the sill, and spring across into the apple-tree growing without. he alighted without much hurt beyond a few scratches from the boughs, a shower of falling apples testifying to the force of his leap. 'here he is!' shouted several below who had seen bob's figure flying like a raven's across the sky. there was stillness for a moment in the tree. then the fugitive made haste to climb out upon a low-hanging branch towards the garden, at which the men beneath all rushed in that direction to catch him as he dropped, saying, 'you may as well come down, old boy. 'twas a spry jump, and we give ye credit for 't.' the latter movement of loveday had been a mere feint. partly hidden by the leaves he glided back to the other part of the tree, from whence it was easy to jump upon a thatch-covered out-house. this intention they did not appear to suspect, which gave him the opportunity of sliding down the slope and entering the back door of the mill. 'he's here, he's here!' the men exclaimed, running back from the tree. by this time they had obtained another light, and pursued him closely along the back quarters of the mill. bob had entered the lower room, seized hold of the chain by which the flour-sacks were hoisted from story to story by connexion with the mill-wheel, and pulled the rope that hung alongside for the purpose of throwing it into gear. the foremost pursuers arrived just in time to see captain bob's legs and shoe-buckles vanishing through the trap-door in the joists overhead, his person having been whirled up by the machinery like any bag of flour, and the trap falling to behind him. 'he's gone up by the hoist!' said the sergeant, running up the ladder in the corner to the next floor, and elevating the light just in time to see bob's suspended figure ascending in the same way through the same sort of trap into the second floor. the second trap also fell together behind him, and he was lost to view as before. it was more difficult to follow now; there was only a flimsy little ladder, and the men ascended cautiously. when they stepped out upon the loft it was empty. 'he must ha' let go here,' said one of the marines, who knew more about mills than the others. 'if he had held fast a moment longer, he would have been dashed against that beam.' they looked up. the hook by which bob had held on had ascended to the roof, and was winding round the cylinder. nothing was visible elsewhere but boarded divisions like the stalls of a stable, on each side of the stage they stood upon, these compartments being more or less heaped up with wheat and barley in the grain. 'perhaps he's buried himself in the corn.' the whole crew jumped into the corn-bins, and stirred about their yellow contents; but neither arm, leg, nor coat-tail was uncovered. they removed sacks, peeped among the rafters of the roof, but to no purpose. the lieutenant began to fume at the loss of time. 'what cursed fools to let the man go! why, look here, what's this?' he had opened the door by which sacks were taken in from waggons without, and dangling from the cat-head projecting above it was the rope used in lifting them. 'there's the way he went down,' the officer continued. 'the man's gone.' amidst mumblings and curses the gang descended the pair of ladders and came into the open air; but captain bob was nowhere to be seen. when they reached the front door of the house the miller was standing on the threshold, half dressed. 'your son is a clever fellow, miller,' said the lieutenant; 'but it would have been much better for him if he had come quiet.' 'that's a matter of opinion,' said loveday. 'i have no doubt that he's in the house.' 'he may be; and he may not.' 'do you know where he is?' 'i do not; and if i did i shouldn't tell.' 'naturally.' 'i heard steps beating up the road, sir,' said the sergeant. they turned from the door, and leaving four of the marines to keep watch round the house, the remainder of the party marched into the lane as far as where the other road branched off. while they were pausing to decide which course to take, one of the soldiers held up the light. a black object was discernible upon the ground before them, and they found it to be a hat--the hat of bob loveday. 'we are on the track,' cried the sergeant, deciding for this direction. they tore on rapidly, and the footsteps previously heard became audible again, increasing in clearness, which told that they gained upon the fugitive, who in another five minutes stopped and turned. the rays of the candle fell upon anne. 'what do you want?' she said, showing her frightened face. they made no reply, but wheeled round and left her. she sank down on the bank to rest, having done all she could. it was she who had taken down bob's hat from a nail, and dropped it at the turning with the view of misleading them till he should have got clear off. xxxii. deliverance but anne garland was too anxious to remain long away from the centre of operations. when she got back she found that the press-gang were standing in the court discussing their next move. 'waste no more time here,' the lieutenant said. 'two more villages to visit to-night, and the nearest three miles off. there's nobody else in this place, and we can't come back again.' when they were moving away, one of the private marines, who had kept his eye on anne, and noticed her distress, contrived to say in a whisper as he passed her, 'we are coming back again as soon as it begins to get light; that's only said to deceive 'ee. keep your young man out of the way.' they went as they had come; and the little household then met together, mrs. loveday having by this time dressed herself and come down. a long and anxious discussion followed. 'somebody must have told upon the chap,' loveday remarked. 'how should they have found him out else, now he's been home from sea this twelvemonth?' anne then mentioned what the friendly marine had told her; and fearing lest bob was in the house, and would be discovered there when daylight came, they searched and called for him everywhere. 'what clothes has he got on?' said the miller. 'his lovely new suit,' said his wife. 'i warrant it is quite spoiled!' 'he's got no hat,' said anne. 'well,' said loveday, 'you two go and lie down now and i'll bide up; and as soon as he comes in, which he'll do most likely in the course of the night, i'll let him know that they are coming again.' anne and mrs. loveday went to their bedrooms, and the miller entered the mill as if he were simply staying up to grind. but he continually left the flour-shoot to go outside and walk round; each time he could see no living being near the spot. anne meanwhile had lain down dressed upon her bed, the window still open, her ears intent upon the sound of footsteps and dreading the reappearance of daylight and the gang's return. three or four times during the night she descended to the mill to inquire of her stepfather if bob had shown himself; but the answer was always in the negative. at length the curtains of her bed began to reveal their pattern, the brass handles of the drawers gleamed forth, and day dawned. while the light was yet no more than a suffusion of pallor, she arose, put on her hat, and determined to explore the surrounding premises before the men arrived. emerging into the raw loneliness of the daybreak, she went upon the bridge and looked up and down the road. it was as she had left it, empty, and the solitude was rendered yet more insistent by the silence of the mill-wheel, which was now stopped, the miller having given up expecting bob and retired to bed about three o'clock. the footprints of the marines still remained in the dust on the bridge, all the heel-marks towards the house, showing that the party had not as yet returned. while she lingered she heard a slight noise in the other direction, and, turning, saw a woman approaching. the woman came up quickly, and, to her amazement, anne recognized matilda. her walk was convulsive, face pale, almost haggard, and the cold light of the morning invested it with all the ghostliness of death. she had plainly walked all the way from budmouth, for her shoes were covered with dust. 'has the press-gang been here?' she gasped. 'if not they are coming!' 'they have been.' 'and got him--i am too late!' 'no; they are coming back again. why did you--' 'i came to try to save him. can we save him? where is he?' anne looked the woman in the face, and it was impossible to doubt that she was in earnest. 'i don't know,' she answered. 'i am trying to find him before they come.' 'will you not let me help you?' cried the repentant matilda. without either objecting or assenting anne turned and led the way to the back part of the homestead. matilda, too, had suffered that night. from the moment of parting with festus derriman a sentiment of revulsion from the act to which she had been a party set in and increased, till at length it reached an intensity of remorse which she could not passively bear. she had risen before day and hastened thitherward to know the worst, and if possible hinder consequences that she had been the first to set in train. after going hither and thither in the adjoining field, anne entered the garden. the walks were bathed in grey dew, and as she passed observantly along them it appeared as if they had been brushed by some foot at a much earlier hour. at the end of the garden, bushes of broom, laurel, and yew formed a constantly encroaching shrubbery, that had come there almost by chance, and was never trimmed. behind these bushes was a garden-seat, and upon it lay bob sound asleep. the ends of his hair were clotted with damp, and there was a foggy film upon the mirror-like buttons of his coat, and upon the buckles of his shoes. his bunch of new gold seals was dimmed by the same insidious dampness; his shirt-frill and muslin neckcloth were limp as seaweed. it was plain that he had been there a long time. anne shook him, but he did not awake, his breathing being slow and stertorous. 'bob, wake; 'tis your own anne!' she said, with innocent earnestness; and then, fearfully turning her head, she saw that matilda was close behind her. 'you needn't mind me,' said matilda bitterly. 'i am on your side now. shake him again.' anne shook him again, but he slept on. then she noticed that his forehead bore the mark of a heavy wound. 'i fancy i hear something!' said her companion, starting forward and endeavouring to wake bob herself. 'he is stunned, or drugged!' she said; 'there is no rousing him.' anne raised her head and listened. from the direction of the eastern road came the sound of a steady tramp. 'they are coming back!' she said, clasping her hands. 'they will take him, ill as he is! he won't open his eyes--no, it is no use! o, what shall we do?' matilda did not reply, but running to the end of the seat on which bob lay, tried its weight in her arms. 'it is not too heavy,' she said. 'you take that end, and i'll take this. we'll carry him away to some place of hiding.' anne instantly seized the other end, and they proceeded with their burden at a slow pace to the lower garden-gate, which they reached as the tread of the press-gang resounded over the bridge that gave access to the mill court, now hidden from view by the hedge and the trees of the garden. 'we will go down inside this field,' said anne faintly. 'no!' said the other; 'they will see our foot-tracks in the dew. we must go into the road.' 'it is the very road they will come down when they leave the mill.' 'it cannot be helped; it is neck or nothing with us now.' so they emerged upon the road, and staggered along without speaking, occasionally resting for a moment to ease their arms; then shaking him to arouse him, and finding it useless, seizing the seat again. when they had gone about two hundred yards matilda betrayed signs of exhaustion, and she asked, 'is there no shelter near?' 'when we get to that little field of corn,' said anne. 'it is so very far. surely there is some place near?' she pointed to a few scrubby bushes overhanging a little stream, which passed under the road near this point. 'they are not thick enough,' said anne. 'let us take him under the bridge,' said matilda. 'i can go no further.' entering the opening by which cattle descended to drink, they waded into the weedy water, which here rose a few inches above their ankles. to ascend the stream, stoop under the arch, and reach the centre of the roadway, was the work of a few minutes. 'if they look under the arch we are lost,' murmured anne. 'there is no parapet to the bridge, and they may pass over without heeding.' they waited, their heads almost in contact with the reeking arch, and their feet encircled by the stream, which was at its summer lowness now. for some minutes they could hear nothing but the babble of the water over their ankles, and round the legs of the seat on which bob slumbered, the sounds being reflected in a musical tinkle from the hollow sides of the arch. anne's anxiety now was lest he should not continue sleeping till the search was over, but start up with his habitual imprudence, and scorning such means of safety, rush out into their arms. a quarter of an hour dragged by, and then indications reached their ears that the re-examination of the mill had begun and ended. the well-known tramp drew nearer, and reverberated through the ground over their heads, where its volume signified to the listeners that the party had been largely augmented by pressed men since the night preceding. the gang passed the arch, and the noise regularly diminished, as if no man among them had thought of looking aside for a moment. matilda broke the silence. 'i wonder if they have left a watch behind?' she said doubtfully. 'i will go and see,' said anne. 'wait till i return.' 'no; i can do no more. when you come back i shall be gone. i ask one thing of you. if all goes well with you and him, and he marries you--don't be alarmed; my plans lie elsewhere--when you are his wife tell him who helped to carry him away. but don't mention my name to the rest of your family, either now or at any time.' anne regarded the speaker for a moment, and promised; after which she waded out from the archway. matilda stood looking at bob for a moment, as if preparing to go, till moved by some impulse she bent and lightly kissed him once. 'how can you!' cried anne reproachfully. when leaving the mouth of the arch she had bent back and seen the act. matilda flushed. 'you jealous baby!' she said scornfully. anne hesitated for a moment, then went out from the water, and hastened towards the mill. she entered by the garden, and, seeing no one, advanced and peeped in at the window. her mother and mr. loveday were sitting within as usual. 'are they all gone?' said anne softly. 'yes. they did not trouble us much, beyond going into every room, and searching about the garden, where they saw steps. they have been lucky to-night; they have caught fifteen or twenty men at places further on; so the loss of bob was no hurt to their feelings. i wonder where in the world the poor fellow is!' 'i will show you,' said anne. and explaining in a few words what had happened, she was promptly followed by david and loveday along the road. she lifted her dress and entered the arch with some anxiety on account of matilda; but the actress was gone, and bob lay on the seat as she had left him. bob was brought out, and water thrown upon his face; but though he moved he did not rouse himself until some time after he had been borne into the house. here he opened his eyes, and saw them standing round, and gathered a little consciousness. 'you are all right, my boy!' said his father. 'what hev happened to ye? where did ye get that terrible blow?' 'ah--i can mind now,' murmured bob, with a stupefied gaze around. 'i fell in slipping down the topsail halyard--the rope, that is, was too short--and i fell upon my head. and then i went away. when i came back i thought i wouldn't disturb ye: so i lay down out there, to sleep out the watch; but the pain in my head was so great that i couldn't get to sleep; so i picked some of the poppy-heads in the border, which i once heard was a good thing for sending folks to sleep when they are in pain. so i munched up all i could find, and dropped off quite nicely.' 'i wondered who had picked 'em!' said molly. 'i noticed they were gone.' 'why, you might never have woke again!' said mrs. loveday, holding up her hands. 'how is your head now?' 'i hardly know,' replied the young man, putting his hand to his forehead and beginning to doze again. 'where be those fellows that boarded us? with this--smooth water and--fine breeze we ought to get away from 'em. haul in--the larboard braces, and--bring her to the wind.' 'you are at home, dear bob,' said anne, bending over him, 'and the men are gone.' 'come along upstairs: th' beest hardly awake now,' said his father and bob was assisted to bed. xxxiii. a discovery turns the scale in four-and-twenty hours bob had recovered. but though physically himself again, he was not at all sure of his position as a patriot. he had that practical knowledge of seamanship of which the country stood much in need, and it was humiliating to find that impressment seemed to be necessary to teach him to use it for her advantage. many neighbouring young men, less fortunate than himself, had been pressed and taken; and their absence seemed a reproach to him. he went away by himself into the mill-roof, and, surrounded by the corn-heaps, gave vent to self-condemnation. 'certainly, i am no man to lie here so long for the pleasure of sighting that young girl forty times a day, and letting her sight me--bless her eyes!--till i must needs want a press-gang to teach me what i've forgot. and is it then all over with me as a british sailor? we'll see.' when he was thrown under the influence of anne's eyes again, which were more tantalizingly beautiful than ever just now (so it seemed to him), his intention of offering his services to the government would wax weaker, and he would put off his final decision till the next day. anne saw these fluctuations of his mind between love and patriotism, and being terrified by what she had heard of sea-fights, used the utmost art of which she was capable to seduce him from his forming purpose. she came to him in the mill, wearing the very prettiest of her morning jackets--the one that only just passed the waist, and was laced so tastefully round the collar and bosom. then she would appear in her new hat, with a bouquet of primroses on one side; and on the following sunday she walked before him in lemon-coloured boots, so that her feet looked like a pair of yellow-hammers flitting under her dress. but dress was the least of the means she adopted for chaining him down. she talked more tenderly than ever; asked him to begin small undertakings in the garden on her account; she sang about the house, that the place might seem cheerful when he came in. this singing for a purpose required great effort on her part, leaving her afterwards very sad. when bob asked her what was the matter, she would say, 'nothing; only i am thinking how you will grieve your father, and cross his purposes, if you carry out your unkind notion of going to sea, and forsaking your place in the mill.' 'yes,' bob would say uneasily. 'it will trouble him, i know.' being also quite aware how it would trouble her, he would again postpone, and thus another week passed away. all this time john had not come once to the mill. it appeared as if miss johnson absorbed all his time and thoughts. bob was often seen chuckling over the circumstance. 'a sly rascal!' he said. 'pretending on the day she came to be married that she was not good enough for me, when it was only that he wanted her for himself. how he could have persuaded her to go away is beyond me to say!' anne could not contest this belief of her lover's, and remained silent; but there had more than once occurred to her mind a doubt of its probability. yet she had only abandoned her opinion that john had schemed for matilda, to embrace the opposite error; that, finding he had wronged the young lady, he had pitied and grown to love her. 'and yet jack, when he was a boy, was the simplest fellow alive,' resumed bob. 'by george, though, i should have been hot against him for such a trick, if in losing her i hadn't found a better! but she'll never come down to him in the world: she has high notions now. i am afraid he's doomed to sigh in vain!' though bob regretted this possibility, the feeling was not reciprocated by anne. it was true that she knew nothing of matilda's temporary treachery, and that she disbelieved the story of her lack of virtue; but she did not like the woman. 'perhaps it will not matter if he is doomed to sigh in vain,' she said. 'but i owe him no ill-will. i have profited by his doings, incomprehensible as they are.' and she bent her fair eyes on bob and smiled. bob looked dubious. 'he thinks he has affronted me, now i have seen through him, and that i shall be against meeting him. but, of course, i am not so touchy. i can stand a practical joke, as can any man who has been afloat. i'll call and see him, and tell him so.' before he started, bob bethought him of something which would still further prove to the misapprehending john that he was entirely forgiven. he went to his room, and took from his chest a packet containing a lock of miss johnson's hair, which she had given him during their brief acquaintance, and which till now he had quite forgotten. when, at starting, he wished anne goodbye, it was accompanied by such a beaming face, that she knew he was full of an idea, and asked what it might be that pleased him so. 'why, this,' he said, smacking his breast-pocket. 'a lock of hair that matilda gave me.' anne sank back with parted lips. 'i am going to give it to jack--he'll jump for joy to get it! and it will show him how willing i am to give her up to him, fine piece as she is.' 'will you see her to-day, bob?' anne asked with an uncertain smile. 'o no--unless it is by accident.' on reaching the outskirts of the town he went straight to the barracks, and was lucky enough to find john in his room, at the left-hand corner of the quadrangle. john was glad to see him; but to bob's surprise he showed no immediate contrition, and thus afforded no room for the brotherly speech of forgiveness which bob had been going to deliver. as the trumpet-major did not open the subject, bob felt it desirable to begin himself. 'i have brought ye something that you will value, jack,' he said, as they sat at the window, overlooking the large square barrack-yard. 'i have got no further use for it, and you should have had it before if it had entered my head.' 'thank you, bob; what is it?' said john, looking absently at an awkward squad of young men who were drilling in the enclosure. ''tis a young woman's lock of hair.' 'ah!' said john, quite recovering from his abstraction, and slightly flushing. could bob and anne have quarrelled? bob drew the paper from his pocket, and opened it. 'black!' said john. 'yes--black enough.' 'whose?' 'why, matilda's.' 'o, matilda's!' 'whose did you think then?' instead of replying, the trumpet-major's face became as red as sunset, and he turned to the window to hide his confusion. bob was silent, and then he, too, looked into the court. at length he arose, walked to his brother, and laid his hand upon his shoulder. 'jack,' he said, in an altered voice, 'you are a good fellow. now i see it all.' 'o no--that's nothing,' said john hastily. 'you've been pretending that you care for this woman that i mightn't blame myself for heaving you out from the other--which is what i've done without knowing it.' 'what does it matter?' 'but it does matter! i've been making you unhappy all these weeks and weeks through my thoughtlessness. they seemed to think at home, you know, john, that you had grown not to care for her; or i wouldn't have done it for all the world!' 'you stick to her, bob, and never mind me. she belongs to you. she loves you. i have no claim upon her, and she thinks nothing about me.' 'she likes you, john, thoroughly well; so does everybody; and if i hadn't come home, putting my foot in it-- that coming home of mine has been a regular blight upon the family! i ought never to have stayed. the sea is my home, and why couldn't i bide there?' the trumpet-major drew bob's discourse off the subject as soon as he could, and bob, after some unconsidered replies and remarks, seemed willing to avoid it for the present. he did not ask john to accompany him home, as he had intended; and on leaving the barracks turned southward and entered the town to wander about till he could decide what to do. it was the rd of september, but the king's watering-place still retained its summer aspect. the royal bathing-machine had been drawn out just as bob reached gloucester buildings, and he waited a minute, in the lack of other distraction, to look on. immediately that the king's machine had entered the water a group of florid men with fiddles, violoncellos, a trombone, and a drum, came forward, packed themselves into another machine that was in waiting, and were drawn out into the waves in the king's rear. all that was to be heard for a few minutes were the slow pulsations of the sea; and then a deafening noise burst from the interior of the second machine with power enough to split the boards asunder; it was the condensed mass of musicians inside, striking up the strains of 'god save the king,' as his majesty's head rose from the water. bob took off his hat and waited till the end of the performance, which, intended as a pleasant surprise to george iii. by the loyal burghers, was possibly in the watery circumstances tolerated rather than desired by that dripping monarch. { } loveday then passed on to the harbour, where he remained awhile, looking at the busy scene of loading and unloading craft and swabbing the decks of yachts; at the boats and barges rubbing against the quay wall, and at the houses of the merchants, some ancient structures of solid stone, others green-shuttered with heavy wooden bow-windows which appeared as if about to drop into the harbour by their own weight. all these things he gazed upon, and thought of one thing--that he had caused great misery to his brother john. the town clock struck, and bob retraced his steps till he again approached the esplanade and gloucester lodge, where the morning sun blazed in upon the house fronts, and not a spot of shade seemed to be attainable. a huzzaing attracted his attention, and he observed that a number of people had gathered before the king's residence, where a brown curricle had stopped, out of which stepped a hale man in the prime of life, wearing a blue uniform, gilt epaulettes, cocked hat, and sword, who crossed the pavement and went in. bob went up and joined the group. 'what's going on?' he said. 'captain hardy,' replied a bystander. 'what of him?' 'just gone in--waiting to see the king.' 'but the captain is in the west indies?' 'no. the fleet is come home; they can't find the french anywhere.' 'will they go and look for them again?' asked bob. 'o yes. nelson is determined to find 'em. as soon as he's refitted he'll put to sea again. ah, here's the king coming in.' bob was so interested in what he had just heard that he scarcely noticed the arrival of the king, and a body of attendant gentlemen. he went on thinking of his new knowledge; captain hardy was come. he was doubtless staying with his family at their small manor-house at pos'ham, a few miles from overcombe, where he usually spent the intervals between his different cruises. loveday returned to the mill without further delay; and shortly explaining that john was very well, and would come soon, went on to talk of the arrival of nelson's captain. 'and is he come at last?' said the miller, throwing his thoughts years backward. 'well can i mind when he first left home to go on board the helena as midshipman!' 'that's not much to remember. i can remember it too,' said mrs. loveday. ''tis more than twenty years ago anyhow. and more than that, i can mind when he was born; i was a lad, serving my 'prenticeship at the time. he has been in this house often and often when 'a was young. when he came home after his first voyage he stayed about here a long time, and used to look in at the mill whenever he went past. "what will you be next, sir?" said mother to him one day as he stood with his back to the doorpost. "a lieutenant, dame loveday," says he. "and what next?" says she. "a commander." "and next?" "next, post-captain." "and then?" "then it will be almost time to die." i'd warrant that he'd mind it to this very day if you were to ask him.' bob heard all this with a manner of preoccupation, and soon retired to the mill. thence he went to his room by the back passage, and taking his old seafaring garments from a dark closet in the wall conveyed them to the loft at the top of the mill, where he occupied the remaining spare moments of the day in brushing the mildew from their folds, and hanging each article by the window to get aired. in the evening he returned to the loft, and dressing himself in the old salt suit, went out of the house unobserved by anybody, and ascended the road towards captain hardy's native village and present temporary home. the shadeless downs were now brown with the droughts of the passing summer, and few living things met his view, the natural rotundity of the elevation being only occasionally disturbed by the presence of a barrow, a thorn-bush, or a piece of dry wall which remained from some attempted enclosure. by the time that he reached the village it was dark, and the larger stars had begun to shine when he walked up to the door of the old- fashioned house which was the family residence of this branch of the south-wessex hardys. 'will the captain allow me to wait on him to-night?' inquired loveday, explaining who and what he was. the servant went away for a few minutes, and then told bob that he might see the captain in the morning. 'if that's the case, i'll come again,' replied bob, quite cheerful that failure was not absolute. he had left the door but a few steps when he was called back and asked if he had walked all the way from overcombe mill on purpose. loveday replied modestly that he had done so. 'then will you come in?' he followed the speaker into a small study or office, and in a minute or two captain hardy entered. the captain at this time was a bachelor of thirty-five, rather stout in build, with light eyes, bushy eyebrows, a square broad face, plenty of chin, and a mouth whose corners played between humour and grimness. he surveyed loveday from top to toe. 'robert loveday, sir, son of the miller at overcombe,' said bob, making a low bow. 'ah! i remember your father, loveday,' the gallant seaman replied. 'well, what do you want to say to me?' seeing that bob found it rather difficult to begin, he leant leisurely against the mantelpiece, and went on, 'is your father well and hearty? i have not seen him for many, many years.' 'quite well, thank 'ee.' 'you used to have a brother in the army, i think? what was his name--john? a very fine fellow, if i recollect.' 'yes, cap'n; he's there still.' 'and you are in the merchant-service?' 'late first mate of the brig pewit.' 'how is it you're not on board a man-of-war?' 'ay, sir, that's the thing i've come about,' said bob, recovering confidence. 'i should have been, but 'tis womankind has hampered me. i've waited and waited on at home because of a young woman--lady, i might have said, for she's sprung from a higher class of society than i. her father was a landscape painter--maybe you've heard of him, sir? the name is garland.' 'he painted that view of our village here,' said captain hardy, looking towards a dark little picture in the corner of the room. bob looked, and went on, as if to the picture, 'well, sir, i have found that-- however, the press-gang came a week or two ago, and didn't get hold of me. i didn't care to go aboard as a pressed man.' 'there has been a severe impressment. it is of course a disagreeable necessity, but it can't be helped.' 'since then, sir, something has happened that makes me wish they had found me, and i have come to-night to ask if i could enter on board your ship the victory.' the captain shook his head severely, and presently observed: 'i am glad to find that you think of entering the service, loveday; smart men are badly wanted. but it will not be in your power to choose your ship.' 'well, well, sir; then i must take my chance elsewhere,' said bob, his face indicating the disappointment he would not fully express. ''twas only that i felt i would much rather serve under you than anybody else, my father and all of us being known to ye, captain hardy, and our families belonging to the same parts.' captain hardy took bob's altitude more carefully. 'are you a good practical seaman?' he asked musingly. 'ay, sir; i believe i am.' 'active? fond of skylarking?' 'well, i don't know about the last. i think i can say i am active enough. i could walk the yard-arm, if required, cross from mast to mast by the stays, and do what most fellows do who call themselves spry.' the captain then put some questions about the details of navigation, which loveday, having luckily been used to square rigs, answered satisfactorily. 'as to reefing topsails,' he added, 'if i don't do it like a flash of lightning, i can do it so that they will stand blowing weather. the pewit was not a dull vessel, and when we were convoyed home from lisbon, she could keep well in sight of the frigate scudding at a distance, by putting on full sail. we had enough hands aboard to reef topsails man-o'-war fashion, which is a rare thing in these days, sir, now that able seamen are so scarce on trading craft. and i hear that men from square-rigged vessels are liked much the best in the navy, as being more ready for use? so that i shouldn't be altogether so raw,' said bob earnestly, 'if i could enter on your ship, sir. still, if i can't, i can't.' 'i might ask for you, loveday,' said the captain thoughtfully, 'and so get you there that way. in short, i think i may say i will ask for you. so consider it settled.' 'my thanks to you, sir,' said loveday. 'you are aware that the victory is a smart ship, and that cleanliness and order are, of necessity, more strictly insisted upon there than in some others?' 'sir, i quite see it.' 'well, i hope you will do your duty as well on a line-of-battle ship as you did when mate of the brig, for it is a duty that may be serious.' bob replied that it should be his one endeavour; and receiving a few instructions for getting on board the guard-ship, and being conveyed to portsmouth, he turned to go away. 'you'll have a stiff walk before you fetch overcombe mill this dark night, loveday,' concluded the captain, peering out of the window. 'i'll send you in a glass of grog to help 'ee on your way.' the captain then left bob to himself, and when he had drunk the grog that was brought in he started homeward, with a heart not exactly light, but large with a patriotic cheerfulness, which had not diminished when, after walking so fast in his excitement as to be beaded with perspiration, he entered his father's door. they were all sitting up for him, and at his approach anxiously raised their sleepy eyes, for it was nearly eleven o'clock. 'there; i knew he'd not be much longer!' cried anne, jumping up and laughing, in her relief. 'they have been thinking you were very strange and silent to-day, bob; you were not, were you?' 'what's the matter, bob?' said the miller; for bob's countenance was sublimed by his recent interview, like that of a priest just come from the penetralia of the temple. 'he's in his mate's clothes, just as when he came home!' observed mrs. loveday. they all saw now that he had something to tell. 'i am going away,' he said when he had sat down. 'i am going to enter on board a man-of-war, and perhaps it will be the victory.' 'going?' said anne faintly. 'now, don't you mind it, there's a dear,' he went on solemnly, taking her hand in his own. 'and you, father, don't you begin to take it to heart' (the miller was looking grave). 'the press-gang has been here, and though i showed them that i was a free man, i am going to show everybody that i can do my duty.' neither of the other three answered, anne and the miller having their eyes bent upon the ground, and the former trying to repress her tears. 'now don't you grieve, either of you,' he continued; 'nor vex yourselves that this has happened. please not to be angry with me, father, for deserting you and the mill, where you want me, for i _must go_. for these three years we and the rest of the country have been in fear of the enemy; trade has been hindered; poor folk made hungry; and many rich folk made poor. there must be a deliverance, and it must be done by sea. i have seen captain hardy, and i shall serve under him if so be i can.' 'captain hardy?' 'yes. i have been to his house at pos'ham, where he's staying with his sisters; walked there and back, and i wouldn't have missed it for fifty guineas. i hardly thought he would see me; but he did see me. and he hasn't forgot you.' bob then opened his tale in order, relating graphically the conversation to which he had been a party, and they listened with breathless attention. 'well, if you must go, you must,' said the miller with emotion; 'but i think it somewhat hard that, of my two sons, neither one of 'em can be got to stay and help me in my business as i get old.' 'don't trouble and vex about it,' said mrs. loveday soothingly. 'they are both instruments in the hands of providence, chosen to chastise that corsican ogre, and do what they can for the country in these trying years.' 'that's just the shape of it, mrs. loveday,' said bob. 'and he'll come back soon,' she continued, turning to anne. 'and then he'll tell us all he has seen, and the glory that he's won, and how he has helped to sweep that scourge buonaparty off the earth.' 'when be you going, bob?' his father inquired. 'to-morrow, if i can. i shall call at the barracks and tell john as i go by. when i get to portsmouth--' a burst of sobs in quick succession interrupted his words; they came from anne, who till that moment had been sitting as before with her hand in that of bob, and apparently quite calm. mrs. loveday jumped up, but before she could say anything to soothe the agitated girl she had calmed herself with the same singular suddenness that had marked her giving way. 'i don't mind bob's going,' she said. 'i think he ought to go. don't suppose, bob, that i want you to stay!' after this she left the apartment, and went into the little side room where she and her mother usually worked. in a few moments bob followed her. when he came back he was in a very sad and emotional mood. anybody could see that there had been a parting of profound anguish to both. 'she is not coming back to-night,' he said. 'you will see her to-morrow before you go?' said her mother. 'i may or i may not,' he replied. 'father and mrs. loveday, do you go to bed now. i have got to look over my things and get ready; and it will take me some little time. if you should hear noises you will know it is only myself moving about.' when bob was left alone he suddenly became brisk, and set himself to overhaul his clothes and other possessions in a business-like manner. by the time that his chest was packed, such things as he meant to leave at home folded into cupboards, and what was useless destroyed, it was past two o'clock. then he went to bed, so softly that only the creak of one weak stair revealed his passage upward. at the moment that he passed anne's chamber-door her mother was bending over her as she lay in bed, and saying to her, 'won't you see him in the morning?' 'no, no,' said anne. 'i would rather not see him! i have said that i may. but i shall not. i cannot see him again!' when the family got up next day bob had vanished. it was his way to disappear like this, to avoid affecting scenes at parting. by the time that they had sat down to a gloomy breakfast, bob was in the boat of a budmouth waterman, who pulled him alongside the guardship in the roads, where he laid hold of the man-rope, mounted, and disappeared from external view. in the course of the day the ship moved off, set her royals, and made sail for portsmouth, with five hundred new hands for the service on board, consisting partly of pressed men and partly of volunteers, among the latter being robert loveday. xxxiv. a speck on the sea in parting from john, who accompanied him to the quay, bob had said: 'now, jack, these be my last words to you: i give her up. i go away on purpose, and i shall be away a long time. if in that time she should list over towards ye ever so little, mind you take her. you have more right to her than i. you chose her when my mind was elsewhere, and you best deserve her; for i have never known you forget one woman, while i've forgot a dozen. take her then, if she will come, and god bless both of ye.' another person besides john saw bob go. that was derriman, who was standing by a bollard a little further up the quay. he did not repress his satisfaction at the sight. john looked towards him with an open gaze of contempt; for the cuffs administered to the yeoman at the inn had not, so far as the trumpet-major was aware, produced any desire to avenge that insult, john being, of course, quite ignorant that festus had erroneously retaliated upon bob, in his peculiar though scarcely soldierly way. finding that he did not even now approach him, john went on his way, and thought over his intention of preserving intact the love between anne and his brother. he was surprised when he next went to the mill to find how glad they all were to see him. from the moment of bob's return to the bosom of the deep anne had had no existence on land; people might have looked at her human body and said she had flitted thence. the sea and all that belonged to the sea was her daily thought and her nightly dream. she had the whole two-and-thirty winds under her eye, each passing gale that ushered in returning autumn being mentally registered; and she acquired a precise knowledge of the direction in which portsmouth, brest, ferrol, cadiz, and other such likely places lay. instead of saying her own familiar prayers at night she substituted, with some confusion of thought, the forms of prayer to be used at sea. john at once noticed her lorn, abstracted looks, pitied her,--how much he pitied her!--and asked when they were alone if there was anything he could do. 'there are two things,' she said, with almost childish eagerness in her tired eyes. 'they shall be done.' 'the first is to find out if captain hardy has gone back to his ship; and the other is--o if you will do it, john!--to get me newspapers whenever possible.' after this duologue john was absent for a space of three hours, and they thought he had gone back to barracks. he entered, however, at the end of that time, took off his forage-cap, and wiped his forehead. 'you look tired, john,' said his father. 'o no.' he went through the house till he had found anne garland. 'i have only done one of those things,' he said to her. 'what, already! i didn't hope for or mean to-day.' 'captain hardy is gone from pos'ham. he left some days ago. we shall soon hear that the fleet has sailed.' 'you have been all the way to pos'ham on purpose? how good of you!' 'well, i was anxious to know myself when bob is likely to leave. i expect now that we shall soon hear from him.' two days later he came again. he brought a newspaper, and what was better, a letter for anne, franked by the first lieutenant of the victory. 'then he's aboard her,' said anne, as she eagerly took the letter. it was short, but as much as she could expect in the circumstances, and informed them that the captain had been as good as his word, and had gratified bob's earnest wish to serve under him. the ship, with admiral lord nelson on board, and accompanied by the frigate euryalus, was to sail in two days for plymouth, where they would be joined by others, and thence proceed to the coast of spain. anne lay awake that night thinking of the victory, and of those who floated in her. to the best of anne's calculation that ship of war would, during the next twenty-four hours, pass within a few miles of where she herself then lay. next to seeing bob, the thing that would give her more pleasure than any other in the world was to see the vessel that contained him--his floating city, his sole dependence in battle and storm--upon whose safety from winds and enemies hung all her hope. the morrow was market-day at the seaport, and in this she saw her opportunity. a carrier went from overcombe at six o'clock thither, and having to do a little shopping for herself she gave it as a reason for her intended day's absence, and took a place in the van. when she reached the town it was still early morning, but the borough was already in the zenith of its daily bustle and show. the king was always out-of- doors by six o'clock, and such cock-crow hours at gloucester lodge produced an equally forward stir among the population. she alighted, and passed down the esplanade, as fully thronged by persons of fashion at this time of mist and level sunlight as a watering-place in the present day is at four in the afternoon. dashing bucks and beaux in cocked hats, black feathers, ruffles, and frills, stared at her as she hurried along; the beach was swarming with bathing women, wearing waistbands that bore the national refrain, 'god save the king,' in gilt letters; the shops were all open, and sergeant stanner, with his sword-stuck bank-notes and heroic gaze, was beating up at two guineas and a crown, the crown to drink his majesty's health. she soon finished her shopping, and then, crossing over into the old town, pursued her way along the coast-road to portland. at the end of an hour she had been rowed across the fleet (which then lacked the convenience of a bridge), and reached the base of portland hill. the steep incline before her was dotted with houses, showing the pleasant peculiarity of one man's doorstep being behind his neighbour's chimney, and slabs of stone as the common material for walls, roof, floor, pig- sty, stable-manger, door-scraper, and garden-stile. anne gained the summit, and followed along the central track over the huge lump of freestone which forms the peninsula, the wide sea prospect extending as she went on. weary with her journey, she approached the extreme southerly peak of rock, and gazed from the cliff at portland bill, or beal, as it was in those days more correctly called. the wild, herbless, weather-worn promontory was quite a solitude, and, saving the one old lighthouse about fifty yards up the slope, scarce a mark was visible to show that humanity had ever been near the spot. anne found herself a seat on a stone, and swept with her eyes the tremulous expanse of water around her that seemed to utter a ceaseless unintelligible incantation. out of the three hundred and sixty degrees of her complete horizon two hundred and fifty were covered by waves, the coup d'oeil including the area of troubled waters known as the race, where two seas met to effect the destruction of such vessels as could not be mastered by one. she counted the craft within her view: there were five; no, there were only four; no, there were seven, some of the specks having resolved themselves into two. they were all small coasters, and kept well within sight of land. anne sank into a reverie. then she heard a slight noise on her left hand, and turning beheld an old sailor, who had approached with a glass. he was levelling it over the sea in a direction to the south-east, and somewhat removed from that in which her own eyes had been wandering. anne moved a few steps thitherward, so as to unclose to her view a deeper sweep on that side, and by this discovered a ship of far larger size than any which had yet dotted the main before her. its sails were for the most part new and clean, and in comparison with its rapid progress before the wind the small brigs and ketches seemed standing still. upon this striking object the old man's glass was bent. 'what do you see, sailor?' she asked. 'almost nothing,' he answered. 'my sight is so gone off lately that things, one and all, be but a november mist to me. and yet i fain would see to-day. i am looking for the victory.' 'why,' she said quickly. 'i have a son aboard her. he's one of three from these parts. there's the captain, there's my son ned, and there's young loveday of overcombe--he that lately joined.' 'shall i look for you?' said anne, after a pause. 'certainly, mis'ess, if so be you please.' anne took the glass, and he supported it by his arm. 'it is a large ship,' she said, 'with three masts, three rows of guns along the side, and all her sails set.' 'i guessed as much.' 'there is a little flag in front--over her bowsprit.' 'the jack.' 'and there's a large one flying at her stern.' 'the ensign.' 'and a white one on her fore-topmast.' 'that's the admiral's flag, the flag of my lord nelson. what is her figure-head, my dear?' 'a coat-of-arms, supported on this side by a sailor.' her companion nodded with satisfaction. 'on the other side of that figure-head is a marine.' 'she is twisting round in a curious way, and her sails sink in like old cheeks, and she shivers like a leaf upon a tree.' 'she is in stays, for the larboard tack. i can see what she's been doing. she's been re'ching close in to avoid the flood tide, as the wind is to the sou'-west, and she's bound down; but as soon as the ebb made, d'ye see, they made sail to the west'ard. captain hardy may be depended upon for that; he knows every current about here, being a native.' 'and now i can see the other side; it is a soldier where a sailor was before. you are _sure_ it is the victory?' 'i am sure.' after this a frigate came into view--the euryalus--sailing in the same direction. anne sat down, and her eyes never left the ships. 'tell me more about the victory,' she said. 'she is the best sailer in the service, and she carries a hundred guns. the heaviest be on the lower deck, the next size on the middle deck, the next on the main and upper decks. my son ned's place is on the lower deck, because he's short, and they put the short men below.' bob, though not tall, was not likely to be specially selected for shortness. she pictured him on the upper deck, in his snow-white trousers and jacket of navy blue, looking perhaps towards the very point of land where she then was. the great silent ship, with her population of blue-jackets, marines, officers, captain, and the admiral who was not to return alive, passed like a phantom the meridian of the bill. sometimes her aspect was that of a large white bat, sometimes that of a grey one. in the course of time the watching girl saw that the ship had passed her nearest point; the breadth of her sails diminished by foreshortening, till she assumed the form of an egg on end. after this something seemed to twinkle, and anne, who had previously withdrawn from the old sailor, went back to him, and looked again through the glass. the twinkling was the light falling upon the cabin windows of the ship's stern. she explained it to the old man. 'then we see now what the enemy have seen but once. that was in seventy- nine, when she sighted the french and spanish fleet off scilly, and she retreated because she feared a landing. well, 'tis a brave ship and she carries brave men!' anne's tender bosom heaved, but she said nothing, and again became absorbed in contemplation. the victory was fast dropping away. she was on the horizon, and soon appeared hull down. that seemed to be like the beginning of a greater end than her present vanishing. anne garland could not stay by the sailor any longer, and went about a stone's-throw off, where she was hidden by the inequality of the cliff from his view. the vessel was now exactly end on, and stood out in the direction of the start, her width having contracted to the proportion of a feather. she sat down again, and mechanically took out some biscuits that she had brought, foreseeing that her waiting might be long. but she could not eat one of them; eating seemed to jar with the mental tenseness of the moment; and her undeviating gaze continued to follow the lessened ship with the fidelity of a balanced needle to a magnetic stone, all else in her being motionless. the courses of the victory were absorbed into the main, then her topsails went, and then her top-gallants. she was now no more than a dead fly's wing on a sheet of spider's web; and even this fragment diminished. anne could hardly bear to see the end, and yet she resolved not to flinch. the admiral's flag sank behind the watery line, and in a minute the very truck of the last topmast stole away. the victory was gone. anne's lip quivered as she murmured, without removing her wet eyes from the vacant and solemn horizon, '"they that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters--"' '"these see the works of the lord, and his wonders in the deep,"' was returned by a man's voice from behind her. looking round quickly, she saw a soldier standing there; and the grave eyes of john loveday bent on her. ''tis what i was thinking,' she said, trying to be composed. 'you were saying it,' he answered gently. 'was i?--i did not know it. . . . how came you here?' she presently added. 'i have been behind you a good while; but you never turned round.' 'i was deeply occupied,' she said in an undertone. 'yes--i too came to see him pass. i heard this morning that lord nelson had embarked, and i knew at once that they would sail immediately. the victory and euryalus are to join the rest of the fleet at plymouth. there was a great crowd of people assembled to see the admiral off; they cheered him and the ship as she dropped down. he took his coffin on board with him, they say.' 'his coffin!' said anne, turning deadly pale. 'something terrible, then, is meant by that! o, why _would_ bob go in that ship? doomed to destruction from the very beginning like this!' 'it was his determination to sail under captain hardy, and under no one else,' said john. 'there may be hot work; but we must hope for the best.' and observing how wretched she looked, he added, 'but won't you let me help you back? if you can walk as far as hope cove it will be enough. a lerret is going from there across the bay homeward to the harbour in the course of an hour; it belongs to a man i know, and they can take one passenger, i am sure.' she turned her back upon the channel, and by his help soon reached the place indicated. the boat was lying there as he had said. she found it to belong to the old man who had been with her at the bill, and was in charge of his two younger sons. the trumpet-major helped her into it over the slippery blocks of stone, one of the young men spread his jacket for her to sit on, and as soon as they pulled from shore john climbed up the blue-grey cliff, and disappeared over the top, to return to the mainland by road. anne was in the town by three o'clock. the trip in the stern of the lerret had quite refreshed her, with the help of the biscuits, which she had at last been able to eat. the van from the port to overcombe did not start till four o'clock, and feeling no further interest in the gaieties of the place, she strolled on past the king's house to the outskirts, her mind settling down again upon the possibly sad fate of the victory when she found herself alone. she did not hurry on; and finding that even now there wanted another half-hour to the carrier's time, she turned into a little lane to escape the inspection of the numerous passers-by. here all was quite lonely and still, and she sat down under a willow-tree, absently regarding the landscape, which had begun to put on the rich tones of declining summer, but which to her was as hollow and faded as a theatre by day. she could hold out no longer; burying her face in her hands, she wept without restraint. some yards behind her was a little spring of water, having a stone margin round it to prevent the cattle from treading in the sides and filling it up with dirt. while she wept, two elderly gentlemen entered unperceived upon the scene, and walked on to the spring's brink. here they paused and looked in, afterwards moving round it, and then stooping as if to smell or taste its waters. the spring was, in fact, a sulphurous one, then recently discovered by a physician who lived in the neighbourhood; and it was beginning to attract some attention, having by common report contributed to effect such wonderful cures as almost passed belief. after a considerable discussion, apparently on how the pool might be improved for better use, one of the two elderly gentlemen turned away, leaving the other still probing the spring with his cane. the first stranger, who wore a blue coat with gilt buttons, came on in the direction of anne garland, and seeing her sad posture went quickly up to her, and said abruptly, 'what is the matter?' anne, who in her grief had observed nothing of the gentlemen's presence, withdrew her handkerchief from her eyes and started to her feet. she instantly recognised her interrogator as the king. 'what, what, crying?' his majesty inquired kindly. 'how is this!' 'i--have seen a dear friend go away, sir,' she faltered, with downcast eyes. 'ah--partings are sad--very sad--for us all. you must hope your friend will return soon. where is he or she gone?' 'i don't know, your majesty.' 'don't know--how is that?' 'he is a sailor on board the victory.' 'then he has reason to be proud,' said the king with interest. 'he is your brother?' anne tried to explain what he was, but could not, and blushed with painful heat. 'well, well, well; what is his name?' in spite of anne's confusion and low spirits, her womanly shrewdness told her at once that no harm could be done by revealing bob's name; and she answered, 'his name is robert loveday, sir.' 'loveday--a good name. i shall not forget it. now dry your cheeks, and don't cry any more. loveday--robert loveday.' anne curtseyed, the king smiled good-humouredly, and turned to rejoin his companion, who was afterwards heard to be dr. ---, the physician in attendance at gloucester lodge. this gentleman had in the meantime filled a small phial with the medicinal water, which he carefully placed in his pocket; and on the king coming up they retired together and disappeared. thereupon anne, now thoroughly aroused, followed the same way with a gingerly tread, just in time to see them get into a carriage which was in waiting at the turning of the lane. she quite forgot the carrier, and everything else in connexion with riding home. flying along the road rapidly and unconsciously, when she awoke to a sense of her whereabouts she was so near to overcombe as to make the carrier not worth waiting for. she had been borne up in this hasty spurt at the end of a weary day by visions of bob promoted to the rank of admiral, or something equally wonderful, by the king's special command, the chief result of the promotion being, in her arrangement of the piece, that he would stay at home and go to sea no more. but she was not a girl who indulged in extravagant fancies long, and before she reached home she thought that the king had probably forgotten her by that time, and her troubles, and her lover's name. xxxv. a sailor enters the remaining fortnight of the month of september passed away, with a general decline from the summer's excitements. the royal family left the watering-place the first week in october, the german legion with their artillery about the same time. the dragoons still remained at the barracks just out of the town, and john loveday brought to anne every newspaper that he could lay hands on, especially such as contained any fragment of shipping news. this threw them much together; and at these times john was often awkward and confused, on account of the unwonted stress of concealing his great love for her. her interests had grandly developed from the limits of overcombe and the town life hard by, to an extensiveness truly european. during the whole month of october, however, not a single grain of information reached her, or anybody else, concerning nelson and his blockading squadron off cadiz. there were the customary bad jokes about buonaparte, especially when it was found that the whole french army had turned its back upon boulogne and set out for the rhine. then came accounts of his march through germany and into austria; but not a word about the victory. at the beginning of autumn john brought news which fearfully depressed her. the austrian general mack had capitulated with his whole army. then were revived the old misgivings as to invasion. 'instead of having to cope with him weary with waiting, we shall have to encounter this man fresh from the fields of victory,' ran the newspaper article. but the week which had led off with such a dreary piping was to end in another key. on the very day when mack's army was piling arms at the feet of its conqueror, a blow had been struck by bob loveday and his comrades which eternally shattered the enemy's force by sea. four days after the receipt of the austrian news corporal tullidge ran into the miller's house to inform him that on the previous monday, at eleven in the morning, the pickle schooner, lieutenant lapenotiere, had arrived at falmouth with despatches from the fleet; that the stage-coaches on the highway through wessex to london were chalked with the words 'great victory!' 'glorious triumph!' and so on; and that all the country people were wild to know particulars. on friday afternoon john arrived with authentic news of the battle off cape trafalgar, and the death of nelson. captain hardy was alive, though his escape had been narrow enough, his shoe-buckle having been carried away by a shot. it was feared that the victory had been the scene of the heaviest slaughter among all the ships engaged, but as yet no returns of killed and wounded had been issued, beyond a rough list of the numbers in some of the ships. the suspense of the little household in overcombe mill was great in the extreme. john came thither daily for more than a week; but no further particulars reached england till the end of that time, and then only the meagre intelligence that there had been a gale immediately after the battle, and that many of the prizes had been lost. anne said little to all these things, and preserved a superstratum of calmness on her countenance; but some inner voice seemed to whisper to her that bob was no more. miller loveday drove to pos'ham several times to learn if the captain's sisters had received any more definite tidings than these flying reports; but that family had heard nothing which could in any way relieve the miller's anxiety. when at last, at the end of november, there appeared a final and revised list of killed and wounded as issued by admiral collingwood, it was a useless sheet to the lovedays. to their great pain it contained no names but those of officers, the friends of ordinary seamen and marines being in those good old days left to discover their losses as best they might. anne's conviction of her loss increased with the darkening of the early winter time. bob was not a cautious man who would avoid needless exposure, and a hundred and fifty of the victory's crew had been disabled or slain. anybody who had looked into her room at this time would have seen that her favourite reading was the office for the burial of the dead at sea, beginning 'we therefore commit his body to the deep.' in these first days of december several of the victorious fleet came into port; but not the victory. many supposed that that noble ship, disabled by the battle, had gone to the bottom in the subsequent tempestuous weather; and the belief was persevered in till it was told in the town and port that she had been seen passing up the channel. two days later the victory arrived at portsmouth. then letters from survivors began to appear in the public prints which john so regularly brought to anne; but though he watched the mails with unceasing vigilance there was never a letter from bob. it sometimes crossed john's mind that his brother might still be alive and well, and that in his wish to abide by his expressed intention of giving up anne and home life he was deliberately lax in writing. if so, bob was carrying out the idea too thoughtlessly by half, as could be seen by watching the effects of suspense upon the fair face of the victim, and the anxiety of the rest of the family. it was a clear day in december. the first slight snow of the season had been sifted over the earth, and one side of the apple-tree branches in the miller's garden was touched with white, though a few leaves were still lingering on the tops of the younger trees. a short sailor of the royal navy, who was not bob, nor anything like him, crossed the mill court and came to the door. the miller hastened out and brought him into the room, where john, mrs. loveday, and anne garland were all present. 'i'm from aboard the victory,' said the sailor. 'my name's jim cornick. and your lad is alive and well.' they breathed rather than spoke their thankfulness and relief, the miller's eyes being moist as he turned aside to calm himself; while anne, having first jumped up wildly from her seat, sank back again under the almost insupportable joy that trembled through her limbs to her utmost finger. 'i've come from spithead to pos'ham,' the sailor continued, 'and now i am going on to father at budmouth.' 'ah!--i know your father,' cried the trumpet-major, 'old james cornick.' it was the man who had brought anne in his lerret from portland bill. 'and bob hasn't got a scratch?' said the miller. 'not a scratch,' said cornick. loveday then bustled off to draw the visitor something to drink. anne garland, with a glowing blush on her face, had gone to the back part of the room, where she was the very embodiment of sweet content as she slightly swayed herself without speaking. a little tide of happiness seemed to ebb and flow through her in listening to the sailor's words, moving her figure with it. the seaman and john went on conversing. 'bob had a good deal to do with barricading the hawse-holes afore we were in action, and the adm'l and cap'n both were very much pleased at how 'twas done. when the adm'l went up the quarter-deck ladder, cap'n hardy said a word or two to bob, but what it was i don't know, for i was quartered at a gun some ways off. however, bob saw the adm'l stagger when 'a was wownded, and was one of the men who carried him to the cockpit. after that he and some other lads jumped aboard the french ship, and i believe they was in her when she struck her flag. what 'a did next i can't say, for the wind had dropped, and the smoke was like a cloud. but 'a got a good deal talked about; and they say there's promotion in store for'n.' at this point in the story jim cornick stopped to drink, and a low unconscious humming came from anne in her distant corner; the faint melody continued more or less when the conversation between the sailor and the lovedays was renewed. 'we heard afore that the victory was near knocked to pieces,' said the miller. 'knocked to pieces? you'd say so if so be you could see her! gad, her sides be battered like an old penny piece; the shot be still sticking in her wales, and her sails be like so many clap-nets: we have run all the way home under jury topmasts; and as for her decks, you may swab wi' hot water, and you may swab wi' cold, but there's the blood-stains, and there they'll bide. . . . the cap'n had a narrow escape, like many o' the rest--a shot shaved his ankle like a razor. you should have seen that man's face in the het o' battle, his features were as if they'd been cast in steel.' 'we rather expected a letter from bob before this.' 'well,' said jim cornick, with a smile of toleration, 'you must make allowances. the truth o't is, he's engaged just now at portsmouth, like a good many of the rest from our ship. . . . 'tis a very nice young woman that he's a courting of, and i make no doubt that she'll be an excellent wife for him.' 'ah!' said mrs. loveday, in a warning tone. 'courting--wife?' said the miller. they instinctively looked towards anne. anne had started as if shaken by an invisible hand, and a thick mist of doubt seemed to obscure the intelligence of her eyes. this was but for two or three moments. very pale, she arose and went right up to the seaman. john gently tried to intercept her, but she passed him by. 'do you speak of robert loveday as courting a wife?' she asked, without the least betrayal of emotion. 'i didn't see you, miss,' replied cornick, turning. 'yes, your brother hev' his eye on a wife, and he deserves one. i hope you don't mind?' 'not in the least,' she said, with a stage laugh. 'i am interested, naturally. and what is she?' 'a very nice young master-baker's daughter, honey. a very wise choice of the young man's.' 'is she fair or dark?' 'her hair is rather light.' 'i like light hair; and her name?' 'her name is caroline. but can it be that my story hurts ye? if so--' 'yes, yes,' said john, interposing anxiously. 'we don't care for more just at this moment.' 'we _do_ care for more!' said anne vehemently. 'tell it all, sailor. that is a very pretty name, caroline. when are they going to be married?' 'i don't know as how the day is settled,' answered jim, even now scarcely conscious of the devastation he was causing in one fair breast. 'but from the rate the courting is scudding along at, i should say it won't be long first.' 'if you see him when you go back, give him my best wishes,' she lightly said, as she moved away. 'and,' she added, with solemn bitterness, 'say that i am glad to hear he is making such good use of the first days of his escape from the valley of the shadow of death!' she went away, expressing indifference by audibly singing in the distance-- 'shall we go dance the round, the round, the round, shall we go dance the round?' 'your sister is lively at the news,' observed jim cornick. 'yes,' murmured john gloomily, as he gnawed his lower lip and kept his eyes fixed on the fire. 'well,' continued the man from the victory, 'i won't say that your brother's intended ha'n't got some ballast, which is very lucky for'n, as he might have picked up with a girl without a single copper nail. to be sure there was a time we had when we got into port! it was open house for us all!' and after mentally regarding the scene for a few seconds jim emptied his cup and rose to go. the miller was saying some last words to him outside the house, anne's voice had hardly ceased singing upstairs, john was standing by the fireplace, and mrs. loveday was crossing the room to join her daughter, whose manner had given her some uneasiness, when a noise came from above the ceiling, as of some heavy body falling. mrs. loveday rushed to the staircase, saying, 'ah, i feared something!' and she was followed by john. when they entered anne's room, which they both did almost at one moment, they found her lying insensible upon the floor. the trumpet-major, his lips tightly closed, lifted her in his arms, and laid her upon the bed; after which he went back to the door to give room to her mother, who was bending over the girl with some hartshorn. presently mrs. loveday looked up and said to him, 'she is only in a faint, john, and her colour is coming back. now leave her to me; i will be downstairs in a few minutes, and tell you how she is.' john left the room. when he gained the lower apartment his father was standing by the chimney-piece, the sailor having gone. the trumpet-major went up to the fire, and, grasping the edge of the high chimney-shelf, stood silent. 'did i hear a noise when i went out?' asked the elder, in a tone of misgiving. 'yes, you did,' said john. 'it was she, but her mother says she is better now. father,' he added impetuously, 'bob is a worthless blockhead! if there had been any good in him he would have been drowned years ago!' 'john, john--not too fast,' said the miller. 'that's a hard thing to say of your brother, and you ought to be ashamed of it.' 'well, he tries me more than i can bear. good god! what can a man be made of to go on as he does? why didn't he come home; or if he couldn't get leave why didn't he write? 'tis scandalous of him to serve a woman like that!' 'gently, gently. the chap hev done his duty as a sailor; and though there might have been something between him and anne, her mother, in talking it over with me, has said many times that she couldn't think of their marrying till bob had settled down in business with me. folks that gain victories must have a little liberty allowed 'em. look at the admiral himself, for that matter.' john continued looking at the red coals, till hearing mrs. loveday's foot on the staircase, he went to meet her. 'she is better,' said mrs. loveday; 'but she won't come down again to- day.' could john have heard what the poor girl was moaning to herself at that moment as she lay writhing on the bed, he would have doubted her mother's assurance. 'if he had been dead i could have borne it, but this i cannot bear!' xxxvi. derriman sees chances meanwhile sailor cornick had gone on his way as far as the forking roads, where he met festus derriman on foot. the latter, attracted by the seaman's dress, and by seeing him come from the mill, at once accosted him. jim, with the greatest readiness, fell into conversation, and told the same story as that he had related at the mill. 'bob loveday going to be married?' repeated festus. 'you all seem struck of a heap wi' that.' 'no; i never heard news that pleased me more.' when cornick was gone, festus, instead of passing straight on, halted on the little bridge and meditated. bob, being now interested elsewhere, would probably not resent the siege of anne's heart by another; there could, at any rate, be no further possibility of that looming duel which had troubled the yeoman's mind ever since his horse-play on anne at the house on the down. to march into the mill and propose to mrs. loveday for anne before john's interest could revive in her was, to this hero's thinking, excellent discretion. the day had already begun to darken when he entered, and the cheerful fire shone red upon the floor and walls. mrs. loveday received him alone, and asked him to take a seat by the chimney-corner, a little of the old hankering for him as a son-in-law having permanently remained with her. 'your servant, mrs. loveday,' he said, 'and i will tell you at once what i come for. you will say that i take time by the forelock when i inform you that it is to push on my long-wished-for alliance wi' your daughter, as i believe she is now a free woman again.' 'thank you, mr. derriman,' said the mother placably. 'but she is ill at present. i'll mention it to her when she is better.' 'ask her to alter her cruel, cruel resolves against me, on the score of--of my consuming passion for her. in short,' continued festus, dropping his parlour language in his warmth, 'i'll tell thee what, dame loveday, i want the maid, and must have her.' mrs. loveday replied that that was very plain speaking. 'well, 'tis. but bob has given her up. he never meant to marry her. i'll tell you, mrs. loveday, what i have never told a soul before. i was standing upon budmouth quay on that very day in last september that bob set sail, and i heard him say to his brother john that he gave your daughter up.' 'then it was very unmannerly of him to trifle with her so,' said mrs. loveday warmly. 'who did he give her up to?' festus replied with hesitation, 'he gave her up to john.' 'to john? how could he give her up to a man already over head and ears in love with that actress woman?' 'o? you surprise me. which actress is it?' 'that miss johnson. anne tells me that he loves her hopelessly.' festus arose. miss johnson seemed suddenly to acquire high value as a sweetheart at this announcement. he had himself felt a nameless attractiveness in her, and john had done likewise. john crossed his path in all possible ways. before the yeoman had replied somebody opened the door, and the firelight shone upon the uniform of the person they discussed. festus nodded on recognizing him, wished mrs. loveday good evening, and went out precipitately. 'so bob told you he meant to break off with my anne when he went away?' mrs. loveday remarked to the trumpet-major. 'i wish i had known of it before.' john appeared disturbed at the sudden charge. he murmured that he could not deny it, and then hastily turned from her and followed derriman, whom he saw before him on the bridge. 'derriman!' he shouted. festus started and looked round. 'well, trumpet-major,' he said blandly. 'when will you have sense enough to mind your own business, and not come here telling things you have heard by sneaking behind people's backs?' demanded john hotly. 'if you can't learn in any other way, i shall have to pull your ears again, as i did the other day!' '_you_ pull my ears? how can you tell that lie, when you know 'twas somebody else pulled 'em?' 'o no, no. i pulled your ears, and thrashed you in a mild way.' 'you'll swear to it? surely 'twas another man?' 'it was in the parlour at the public-house; you were almost in the dark.' and john added a few details as to the particular blows, which amounted to proof itself. 'then i heartily ask your pardon for saying 'twas a lie!' cried festus, advancing with extended hand and a genial smile. 'sure, if i had known _'twas_ you, i wouldn't have insulted you by denying it.' 'that was why you didn't challenge me, then?' 'that was it! i wouldn't for the world have hurt your nice sense of honour by letting 'ee go unchallenged, if i had known! and now, you see, unfortunately i can't mend the mistake. so long a time has passed since it happened that the heat of my temper is gone off. i couldn't oblige 'ee, try how i might, for i am not a man, trumpet-major, that can butcher in cold blood--no, not i, nor you neither, from what i know of 'ee. so, willy-nilly, we must fain let it pass, eh?' 'we must, i suppose,' said john, smiling grimly. 'who did you think i was, then, that night when i boxed you all round?' 'no, don't press me,' replied the yeoman. 'i can't reveal; it would be disgracing myself to show how very wide of the truth the mockery of wine was able to lead my senses. we will let it be buried in eternal mixens of forgetfulness.' 'as you wish,' said the trumpet-major loftily. 'but if you ever _should_ think you knew it was me, why, you know where to find me?' and loveday walked away. the instant that he was gone festus shook his fist at the evening star, which happened to lie in the same direction as that taken by the dragoon. 'now for my revenge! duels? lifelong disgrace to me if ever i fight with a man of blood below my own! there are other remedies for upper- class souls!. . . matilda--that's my way.' festus strode along till he reached the hall, where cripplestraw appeared gazing at him from under the arch of the porter's lodge. derriman dashed open the entrance-hurdle with such violence that the whole row of them fell flat in the mud. 'mercy, maister festus!' said cripplestraw. '"surely," i says to myself when i see ye a-coming, "surely maister festus is fuming like that because there's no chance of the enemy coming this year after all."' 'cr-r-ripplestraw! i have been wounded to the heart,' replied derriman, with a lurid brow. 'and the man yet lives, and you wants yer horse-pistols instantly? certainly, maister f---' 'no, cripplestraw, not my pistols, but my new-cut clothes, my heavy gold seals, my silver-topped cane, and my buckles that cost more money than he ever saw! yes, i must tell somebody, and i'll tell you, because there's no other fool near. he loves her heart and soul. he's poor; she's tip- top genteel, and not rich. i am rich, by comparison. i'll court the pretty play-actress, and win her before his eyes.' 'play-actress, maister derriman?' 'yes. i saw her this very day, met her by accident, and spoke to her. she's still in the town--perhaps because of him. i can meet her at any hour of the day-- but i don't mean to marry her; not i. i will court her for my pastime, and to annoy him. it will be all the more death to him that i don't want her. then perhaps he will say to me, "you have taken my one ewe lamb"--meaning that i am the king, and he's the poor man, as in the church verse; and he'll beg for mercy when 'tis too late--unless, meanwhile, i shall have tired of my new toy. saddle the horse, cripplestraw, to-morrow at ten.' full of this resolve to scourge john loveday to the quick through his passion for miss johnson, festus came out booted and spurred at the time appointed, and set off on his morning ride. miss johnson's theatrical engagement having long ago terminated, she would have left the royal watering-place with the rest of the visitors had not matrimonial hopes detained her there. these had nothing whatever to do with john loveday, as may be imagined, but with a stout, staid boat- builder in cove row by the quay, who had shown much interest in her impersonations. unfortunately this substantial man had not been quite so attentive since the end of the season as his previous manner led her to expect; and it was a great pleasure to the lady to see mr. derriman leaning over the harbour bridge with his eyes fixed upon her as she came towards it after a stroll past her elderly wooer's house. 'od take it, ma'am, you didn't tell me when i saw you last that the tooting man with the blue jacket and lace was yours devoted?' began festus. 'who do you mean?' in matilda's ever-changing emotional interests, john loveday was a stale and unprofitable personality. 'why, that trumpet-major man.' 'o! what of him?' 'come; he loves you, and you know it, ma'am.' she knew, at any rate, how to take the current when it served. so she glanced at festus, folded her lips meaningly, and nodded. 'i've come to cut him out.' she shook her head, it being unsafe to speak till she knew a little more of the subject. 'what!' said festus, reddening, 'do you mean to say that you think of him seriously--you, who might look so much higher?' 'constant dropping will wear away a stone; and you should only hear his pleading! his handsome face is impressive, and his manners are--o, so genteel! i am not rich; i am, in short, a poor lady of decayed family, who has nothing to boast of but my blood and ancestors, and they won't find a body in food and clothing!--i hold the world but as the world, derrimanio--a stage where every man must play a part, and mine a sad one!' she dropped her eyes thoughtfully and sighed. 'we will talk of this,' said festus, much affected. 'let us walk to the look-out.' she made no objection, and said, as they turned that way, 'mr. derriman, a long time ago i found something belonging to you; but i have never yet remembered to return it.' and she drew from her bosom the paper which anne had dropped in the meadow when eluding the grasp of festus on that summer day. 'zounds, i smell fresh meat!' cried festus when he had looked it over. ''tis in my uncle's writing, and 'tis what i heard him singing on the day the french didn't come, and afterwards saw him marking in the road. 'tis something he's got hid away. give me the paper, there's a dear; 'tis worth sterling gold!' 'halves, then?' said matilda tenderly. 'gad, yes--anything!' replied festus, blazing into a smile, for she had looked up in her best new manner at the possibility that he might be worth the winning. they went up the steps to the summit of the cliff, and dwindled over it against the sky. xxxvii. reaction there was no letter from bob, though december had passed, and the new year was two weeks old. his movements were, however, pretty accurately registered in the papers, which john still brought, but which anne no longer read. during the second week in december the victory sailed for sheerness, and on the th of the following january the public funeral of lord nelson took place in st. paul's. then there came a meagre line addressed to the family in general. bob's new portsmouth attachment was not mentioned, but he told them he had been one of the eight-and-forty seamen who walked two-and-two in the funeral procession, and that captain hardy had borne the banner of emblems on the same occasion. the crew was soon to be paid off at chatham, when he thought of returning to portsmouth for a few days to see a valued friend. after that he should come home. but the spring advanced without bringing him, and john watched anne garland's desolation with augmenting desire to do something towards consoling her. the old feelings, so religiously held in check, were stimulated to rebelliousness, though they did not show themselves in any direct manner as yet. the miller, in the meantime, who seldom interfered in such matters, was observed to look meaningly at anne and the trumpet-major from day to day; and by-and-by he spoke privately to john. his words were short and to the point: anne was very melancholy; she had thought too much of bob. now 'twas plain that they had lost him for many years to come. well; he had always felt that of the two he would rather john married her. now john might settle down there, and succeed where bob had failed. 'so if you could get her, my sonny, to think less of him and more of thyself, it would be a good thing for all.' an inward excitement had risen in john; but he suppressed it and said firmly-- 'fairness to bob before everything!' 'he hev forgot her, and there's an end on't.' 'she's not forgot him.' 'well, well; think it over.' this discourse was the cause of his penning a letter to his brother. he begged for a distinct statement whether, as john at first supposed, bob's verbal renunciation of anne on the quay had been only a momentary ebullition of friendship, which it would be cruel to take literally; or whether, as seemed now, it had passed from a hasty resolve to a standing purpose, persevered in for his own pleasure, with not a care for the result on poor anne. john waited anxiously for the answer, but no answer came; and the silence seemed even more significant than a letter of assurance could have been of his absolution from further support to a claim which bob himself had so clearly renounced. thus it happened that paternal pressure, brotherly indifference, and his own released impulse operated in one delightful direction, and the trumpet-major once more approached anne as in the old time. but it was not till she had been left to herself for a full five months, and the blue-bells and ragged-robins of the following year were again making themselves common to the rambling eye, that he directly addressed her. she was tying up a group of tall flowering plants in the garden: she knew that he was behind her, but she did not turn. she had subsided into a placid dignity which enabled her when watched to perform any little action with seeming composure--very different from the flutter of her inexperienced days. 'are you never going to turn round?' he at length asked good-humouredly. she then did turn, and looked at him for a moment without speaking; a certain suspicion looming in her eyes, as if suggested by his perceptible want of ease. 'how like summer it is getting to feel, is it not?' she said. john admitted that it was getting to feel like summer: and, bending his gaze upon her with an earnestness which no longer left any doubt of his subject, went on to ask-- 'have you ever in these last weeks thought of how it used to be between us?' she replied quickly, 'o, john, you shouldn't begin that again. i am almost another woman now!' 'well, that's all the more reason why i should, isn't it?' anne looked thoughtfully to the other end of the garden, faintly shaking her head; 'i don't quite see it like that,' she returned. 'you feel yourself quite free, don't you?' '_quite_ free!' she said instantly, and with proud distinctness; her eyes fell, and she repeated more slowly, 'quite free.' then her thoughts seemed to fly from herself to him. 'but you are not?' 'i am not?' 'miss johnson!' 'o--that woman! you know as well as i that was all make-up, and that i never for a moment thought of her.' 'i had an idea you were acting; but i wasn't sure.' 'well, that's nothing now. anne, i want to relieve your life; to cheer you in some way; to make some amends for my brother's bad conduct. if you cannot love me, liking will be well enough. i have thought over every side of it so many times--for months have i been thinking it over--and i am at last sure that i do right to put it to you in this way. that i don't wrong bob i am quite convinced. as far as he is concerned we be both free. had i not been sure of that i would never have spoken. father wants me to take on the mill, and it will please him if you can give me one little hope; it will make the house go on altogether better if you can think o' me.' 'you are generous and good, john,' she said, as a big round tear bowled helter-skelter down her face and hat-strings. 'i am not that; i fear i am quite the opposite,' he said, without looking at her. 'it would be all gain to me-- but you have not answered my question.' she lifted her eyes. 'john, i cannot!' she said, with a cheerless smile. 'positively i cannot. will you make me a promise?' 'what is it?' 'i want you to promise first-- yes, it is dreadfully unreasonable,' she added, in a mild distress. 'but do promise!' john by this time seemed to have a feeling that it was all up with him for the present. 'i promise,' he said listlessly. 'it is that you won't speak to me about this for _ever_ so long,' she returned, with emphatic kindliness. 'very good,' he replied; 'very good. dear anne, you don't think i have been unmanly or unfair in starting this anew?' anne looked into his face without a smile. 'you have been perfectly natural,' she murmured. 'and so i think have i.' john, mournfully: 'you will not avoid me for this, or be afraid of me? i will not break my word. i will not worry you any more.' 'thank you, john. you need not have said worry; it isn't that.' 'well, i am very blind and stupid. i have been hurting your heart all the time without knowing it. it is my fate, i suppose. men who love women the very best always blunder and give more pain than those who love them less.' anne laid one of her hands on the other as she softly replied, looking down at them, 'no one loves me as well as you, john; nobody in the world is so worthy to be loved; and yet i cannot anyhow love you rightly.' and lifting her eyes, 'but i do so feel for you that i will try as hard as i can to think about you.' 'well, that is something,' he said, smiling. 'you say i must not speak about it again for ever so long; how long?' 'now that's not fair,' anne retorted, going down the garden, and leaving him alone. about a week passed. then one afternoon the miller walked up to anne indoors, a weighty topic being expressed in his tread. 'i was so glad, my honey,' he began, with a knowing smile, 'to see that from the mill-window last week.' he flung a nod in the direction of the garden. anne innocently inquired what it could be. 'jack and you in the garden together,' he continued laying his hand gently on her shoulder and stroking it. 'it would so please me, my dear little girl, if you could get to like him better than that weathercock, master bob.' anne shook her head; not in forcible negation, but to imply a kind of neutrality. 'can't you? come now,' said the miller. she threw back her head with a little laugh of grievance. 'how you all beset me!' she expostulated. 'it makes me feel very wicked in not obeying you, and being faithful--faithful to--' but she could not trust that side of the subject to words. 'why would it please you so much?' she asked. 'john is as steady and staunch a fellow as ever blowed a trumpet. i've always thought you might do better with him than with bob. now i've a plan for taking him into the mill, and letting him have a comfortable time o't after his long knocking about; but so much depends upon you that i must bide a bit till i see what your pleasure is about the poor fellow. mind, my dear, i don't want to force ye; i only just ask ye.' anne meditatively regarded the miller from under her shady eyelids, the fingers of one hand playing a silent tattoo on her bosom. 'i don't know what to say to you,' she answered brusquely, and went away. but these discourses were not without their effect upon the extremely conscientious mind of anne. they were, moreover, much helped by an incident which took place one evening in the autumn of this year, when john came to tea. anne was sitting on a low stool in front of the fire, her hands clasped across her knee. john loveday had just seated himself on a chair close behind her, and mrs. loveday was in the act of filling the teapot from the kettle which hung in the chimney exactly above anne. the kettle slipped forward suddenly, whereupon john jumped from the chair and put his own two hands over anne's just in time to shield them, and the precious knee she clasped, from the jet of scalding water which had directed itself upon that point. the accidental overflow was instantly checked by mrs. loveday; but what had come was received by the devoted trumpet-major on the back of his hands. anne, who had hardly been aware that he was behind her, started up like a person awakened from a trance. 'what have you done to yourself, poor john, to keep it off me!' she cried, looking at his hands. john reddened emotionally at her words, 'it is a bit of a scald, that's all,' he replied, drawing a finger across the back of one hand, and bringing off the skin by the touch. 'you are scalded painfully, and i not at all!' she gazed into his kind face as she had never gazed there before, and when mrs. loveday came back with oil and other liniments for the wound anne would let nobody dress it but herself. it seemed as if her coyness had all gone, and when she had done all that lay in her power she still sat by him. at his departure she said what she had never said to him in her life before: 'come again soon!' in short, that impulsive act of devotion, the last of a series of the same tenor, had been the added drop which finally turned the wheel. john's character deeply impressed her. his determined steadfastness to his lode star won her admiration, the more especially as that star was herself. she began to wonder more and more how she could have so persistently held out against his advances before bob came home to renew girlish memories which had by that time got considerably weakened. could she not, after all, please the miller, and try to listen to john? by so doing she would make a worthy man happy, the only sacrifice being at worst that of her unworthy self, whose future was no longer valuable. 'as for bob, the woman is to be pitied who loves him,' she reflected indignantly, and persuaded herself that, whoever the woman might be, she was not anne garland. after this there was something of recklessness and something of pleasantry in the young girl's manner of making herself an example of the triumph of pride and common sense over memory and sentiment. her attitude had been epitomized in her defiant singing at the time she learnt that bob was not leal and true. john, as was inevitable, came again almost immediately, drawn thither by the sun of her first smile on him, and the words which had accompanied it. and now instead of going off to her little pursuits upstairs, downstairs, across the room, in the corner, or to any place except where he happened to be, as had been her custom hitherto, she remained seated near him, returning interesting answers to his general remarks, and at every opportunity letting him know that at last he had found favour in her eyes. the day was fine, and they went out of doors, where anne endeavoured to seat herself on the sloping stone of the window-sill. 'how good you have become lately,' said john, standing over her and smiling in the sunlight which blazed against the wall. 'i fancy you have stayed at home this afternoon on my account.' 'perhaps i have,' she said gaily-- '"do whatever we may for him, dame, we cannot do too much! for he's one that has guarded our land." 'and he has done more than that: he has saved me from a dreadful scalding. the back of your hand will not be well for a long time, john, will it?' he held out his hand to regard its condition, and the next natural thing was to take hers. there was a glow upon his face when he did it: his star was at last on a fair way towards the zenith after its long and weary declination. the least penetrating eye could have perceived that anne had resolved to let him woo, possibly in her temerity to let him win. whatever silent sorrow might be locked up in her, it was by this time thrust a long way down from the light. 'i want you to go somewhere with me if you will,' he said, still holding her hand. 'yes? where is it?' he pointed to a distant hill-side which, hitherto green, had within the last few days begun to show scratches of white on its face. 'up there,' he said. 'i see little figures of men moving about. what are they doing?' 'cutting out a huge picture of the king on horseback in the earth of the hill. the king's head is to be as big as our mill-pond and his body as big as this garden; he and the horse will cover more than an acre. when shall we go?' 'whenever you please,' said she. 'john!' cried mrs. loveday from the front door. 'here's a friend come for you.' john went round, and found his trusty lieutenant, trumpeter buck, waiting for him. a letter had come to the barracks for john in his absence, and the trumpeter, who was going for a walk, had brought it along with him. buck then entered the mill to discuss, if possible, a mug of last year's mead with the miller; and john proceeded to read his letter, anne being still round the corner where he had left her. when he had read a few words he turned as pale as a sheet, but he did not move, and perused the writing to the end. afterwards he laid his elbow against the wall, and put his palm to his head, thinking with painful intentness. then he took himself vigorously in hand, as it were, and gradually became natural again. when he parted from anne to go home with buck she noticed nothing different in him. in barracks that evening he read the letter again. it was from bob; and the agitating contents were these:-- 'dear john,--i have drifted off from writing till the present time because i have not been clear about my feelings; but i have discovered them at last, and can say beyond doubt that i mean to be faithful to my dearest anne after all. the fact is, john, i've got into a bit of a scrape, and i've a secret to tell you about it (which must go no further on any account). on landing last autumn i fell in with a young woman, and we got rather warm as folks do; in short, we liked one another well enough for a while. but i have got into shoal water with her, and have found her to be a terrible take-in. nothing in her at all--no sense, no niceness, all tantrums and empty noise, john, though she seemed monstrous clever at first. so my heart comes back to its old anchorage. i hope my return to faithfulness will make no difference to you. but as you showed by your looks at our parting that you should not accept my offer to give her up--made in too much haste, as i have since found--i feel that you won't mind that i have returned to the path of honour. i dare not write to anne as yet, and please do not let her know a word about the other young woman, or there will be the devil to pay. i shall come home and make all things right, please god. in the meantime i should take it as a kindness, john, if you would keep a brotherly eye upon anne, and guide her mind back to me. i shall die of sorrow if anybody sets her against me, for my hopes are getting bound up in her again quite strong. hoping you are jovial, as times go, i am,--your affectionate brother, robert.' when the cold daylight fell upon john's face, as he dressed himself next morning, the incipient yesterday's wrinkle in his forehead had become permanently graven there. he had resolved, for the sake of that only brother whom he had nursed as a baby, instructed as a child, and protected and loved always, to pause in his procedure for the present, and at least do nothing to hinder bob's restoration to favour, if a genuine, even though temporarily smothered, love for anne should still hold possession of him. but having arranged to take her to see the excavated figure of the king, he started for overcombe during the day, as if nothing had occurred to check the smooth course of his love. xxxviii. a delicate situation 'i am ready to go,' said anne, as soon as he arrived. he paused as if taken aback by her readiness, and replied with much uncertainty, 'would it--wouldn't it be better to put it off till there is less sun?' the very slightest symptom of surprise arose in her as she rejoined, 'but the weather may change; or had we better not go at all?' 'o no!--it was only a thought. we will start at once.' and along the vale they went, john keeping himself about a yard from her right hand. when the third field had been crossed they came upon half-a- dozen little boys at play. 'why don't he clasp her to his side, like a man?' said the biggest and rudest boy. 'why don't he clasp her to his side, like a man?' echoed all the rude smaller boys in a chorus. the trumpet-major turned, and, after some running, succeeded in smacking two of them with his switch, returning to anne breathless. 'i am ashamed they should have insulted you so,' he said, blushing for her. 'they said no harm, poor boys,' she replied reproachfully. poor john was dumb with perception. the gentle hint upon which he would have eagerly spoken only one short day ago was now like fire to his wound. they presently came to some stepping-stones across a brook. john crossed first without turning his head, and anne, just lifting the skirt of her dress, crossed behind him. when they had reached the other side a village girl and a young shepherd approached the brink to cross. anne stopped and watched them. the shepherd took a hand of the young girl in each of his own, and walked backward over the stones, facing her, and keeping her upright by his grasp, both of them laughing as they went. 'what are you staying for, miss garland?' asked john. 'i was only thinking how happy they are,' she said quietly; and withdrawing her eyes from the tender pair, she turned and followed him, not knowing that the seeming sound of a passing bumble-bee was a suppressed groan from john. when they reached the hill they found forty navvies at work removing the dark sod so as to lay bare the chalk beneath. the equestrian figure that their shovels were forming was scarcely intelligible to john and anne now they were close, and after pacing from the horse's head down his breast to his hoof, back by way of the king's bridle-arm, past the bridge of his nose, and into his cocked-hat, anne said that she had had enough of it, and stepped out of the chalk clearing upon the grass. the trumpet-major had remained all the time in a melancholy attitude within the rowel of his majesty's right spur. 'my shoes are caked with chalk,' she said as they walked downwards again; and she drew back her dress to look at them. 'how can i get some of it cleared off?' 'if you was to wipe them in the long grass there,' said john, pointing to a spot where the blades were rank and dense, 'some of it would come off.' having said this, he walked on with religious firmness. anne raked her little feet on the right side, on the left side, over the toe, and behind the heel; but the tenacious chalk held its own. panting with her exertion, she gave it up, and at length overtook him. 'i hope it is right now?' he said, looking gingerly over his shoulder. 'no, indeed!' said she. 'i wanted some assistance--some one to steady me. it is so hard to stand on one foot and wipe the other without support. i was in danger of toppling over, and so gave it up.' 'merciful stars, what an opportunity!' thought the poor fellow while she waited for him to offer help. but his lips remained closed, and she went on with a pouting smile-- 'you seem in such a hurry! why are you in such a hurry? after all the fine things you have said about--about caring so much for me, and all that, you won't stop for anything!' it was too much for john. 'upon my heart and life, my dea--' he began. here bob's letter crackled warningly in his waistcoat pocket as he laid his hand asseveratingly upon his breast, and he became suddenly scaled up to dumbness and gloom as before. when they reached home anne sank upon a stool outside the door, fatigued with her excursion. her first act was to try to pull off her shoe--it was a difficult matter; but john stood beating with his switch the leaves of the creeper on the wall. 'mother--david--molly, or somebody--do come and help me pull off these dirty shoes!' she cried aloud at last. 'nobody helps me in anything!' 'i am very sorry,' said john, coming towards her with incredible slowness and an air of unutterable depression. 'o, i can do without _you_. david is best,' she returned, as the old man approached and removed the obnoxious shoes in a trice. anne was amazed at this sudden change from devotion to crass indifference. on entering her room she flew to the glass, almost expecting to learn that some extraordinary change had come over her pretty countenance, rendering her intolerable for evermore. but it was, if anything, fresher than usual, on account of the exercise. 'well!' she said retrospectively. for the first time since their acqaintance she had this week encouraged him; and for the first time he had shown that encouragement was useless. 'but perhaps he does not clearly understand,' she added serenely. when he next came it was, to her surprise, to bring her newspapers, now for some time discontinued. as soon as she saw them she said, 'i do not care for newspapers.' 'the shipping news is very full and long to-day, though the print is rather small.' 'i take no further interest in the shipping news,' she replied with cold dignity. she was sitting by the window, inside the table, and hence when, in spite of her negations, he deliberately unfolded the paper and began to read about the royal navy she could hardly rise and go away. with a stoical mien he read on to the end of the report, bringing out the name of bob's ship with tremendous force. 'no,' she said at last, 'i'll hear no more! let me read to you.' the trumpet-major sat down. anne turned to the military news, delivering every detail with much apparent enthusiasm. 'that's the subject _i_ like!' she said fervently. 'but--but bob is in the navy now, and will most likely rise to be an officer. and then--' 'what is there like the army?' she interrupted. 'there is no smartness about sailors. they waddle like ducks, and they only fight stupid battles that no one can form any idea of. there is no science nor stratagem in sea-fights--nothing more than what you see when two rams run their heads together in a field to knock each other down. but in military battles there is such art, and such splendour, and the men are so smart, particularly the horse-soldiers. o, i shall never forget what gallant men you all seemed when you came and pitched your tents on the downs! i like the cavalry better than anything i know; and the dragoons the best of the cavalry--and the trumpeters the best of the dragoons!' 'o, if it had but come a little sooner!' moaned john within him. he replied as soon as he could regain self-command, 'i am glad bob is in the navy at last--he is so much more fitted for that than the merchant-service--so brave by nature, ready for any daring deed. i have heard ever so much more about his doings on board the victory. captain hardy took special notice that when he--' 'i don't want to know anything more about it,' said anne impatiently; 'of course sailors fight; there's nothing else to do in a ship, since you can't run away! you may as well fight and be killed as be killed not fighting.' 'still it is his character to be careless of himself where the honour of his country is concerned,' john pleaded. 'if you had only known him as a boy you would own it. he would always risk his own life to save anybody else's. once when a cottage was afire up the lane he rushed in for a baby, although he was only a boy himself, and he had the narrowest escape. we have got his hat now with the hole burnt in it. shall i get it and show it to you?' 'no--i don't wish it. it has nothing to do with me.' but as he persisted in his course towards the door, she added, 'ah! you are leaving because i am in your way. you want to be alone while you read the paper--i will go at once. i did not see that i was interrupting you.' and she rose as if to retreat. 'no, no! i would rather be interrupted by _you_ than--o, miss garland, excuse me! i'll just speak to father in the mill, now i am here.' it is scarcely necessary to state that anne (whose unquestionable gentility amid somewhat homely surroundings has been many times insisted on in the course of this history) was usually the reverse of a woman with a coming-on disposition; but, whether from pique at his manner, or from wilful adherence to a course rashly resolved on, or from coquettish maliciousness in reaction from long depression, or from any other thing,--so it was that she would not let him go. 'trumpet-major,' she said, recalling him. 'yes?' he replied timidly. 'the bow of my cap-ribbon has come untied, has it not?' she turned and fixed her bewitching glance upon him. the bow was just over her forehead, or, more precisely, at the point where the organ of comparison merges in that of benevolence, according to the phrenological theory of gall. john, thus brought to, endeavoured to look at the bow in a skimming, duck-and-drake fashion, so as to avoid dipping his own glance as far as to the plane of his interrogator's eyes. 'it is untied,' he said, drawing back a little. she came nearer, and asked, 'will you tie it for me, please?' as there was no help for it, he nerved himself and assented. as her head only reached to his fourth button she necessarily looked up for his convenience, and john began fumbling at the bow. try as he would it was impossible to touch the ribbon without getting his finger tips mixed with the curls of her forehead. 'your hand shakes--ah! you have been walking fast,' she said. 'yes--yes.' 'have you almost done it?' she inquiringly directed her gaze upward through his fingers. 'no--not yet,' he faltered in a warm sweat of emotion, his heart going like a flail. 'then be quick, please.' 'yes, i will, miss garland! b-b-bob is a very good fel--' 'not that man's name to me!' she interrupted. john was silent instantly, and nothing was to be heard but the rustling of the ribbon; till his hands once more blundered among the curls, and then touched her forehead. 'o good god!' ejaculated the trumpet-major in a whisper, turning away hastily to the corner-cupboard, and resting his face upon his hand. 'what's the matter, john?' said she. 'i can't do it!' 'what?' 'tie your cap-ribbon.' 'why not?' 'because you are so--because i am clumsy, and never could tie a bow.' 'you are clumsy indeed,' answered anne, and went away. after this she felt injured, for it seemed to show that he rated her happiness as of meaner value than bob's; since he had persisted in his idea of giving bob another chance when she had implied that it was her wish to do otherwise. could miss johnson have anything to do with his firmness? an opportunity of testing him in this direction occurred some days later. she had been up the village, and met john at the mill-door. 'have you heard the news? matilda johnson is going to be married to young derriman.' anne stood with her back to the sun, and as he faced her, his features were searchingly exhibited. there was no change whatever in them, unless it were that a certain light of interest kindled by her question turned to complete and blank indifference. 'well, as times go, it is not a bad match for her,' he said, with a phlegm which was hardly that of a lover. john on his part was beginning to find these temptations almost more than he could bear. but being quartered so near to his father's house it was unnatural not to visit him, especially when at any moment the regiment might be ordered abroad, and a separation of years ensue; and as long as he went there he could not help seeing her. the year changed from green to gold, and from gold to grey, but little change came over the house of loveday. during the last twelve months bob had been occasionally heard of as upholding his country's honour in denmark, the west indies, gibraltar, malta, and other places about the globe, till the family received a short letter stating that he had arrived again at portsmouth. at portsmouth bob seemed disposed to remain, for though some time elapsed without further intelligence, the gallant seaman never appeared at overcombe. then on a sudden john learnt that bob's long-talked-of promotion for signal services rendered was to be an accomplished fact. the trumpet-major at once walked off to overcombe, and reached the village in the early afternoon. not one of the family was in the house at the moment, and john strolled onwards over the hill towards casterbridge, without much thought of direction till, lifting his eyes, he beheld anne garland wandering about with a little basket upon her arm. at first john blushed with delight at the sweet vision; but, recalled by his conscience, the blush of delight was at once mangled and slain. he looked for a means of retreat. but the field was open, and a soldier was a conspicuous object: there was no escaping her. 'it was kind of you to come,' she said, with an inviting smile. 'it was quite by accident,' he answered, with an indifferent laugh. 'i thought you was at home.' anne blushed and said nothing, and they rambled on together. in the middle of the field rose a fragment of stone wall in the form of a gable, known as faringdon ruin; and when they had reached it john paused and politely asked her if she were not a little tired with walking so far. no particular reply was returned by the young lady, but they both stopped, and anne seated herself on a stone, which had fallen from the ruin to the ground. 'a church once stood here,' observed john in a matter-of-fact tone. 'yes, i have often shaped it out in my mind,' she returned. 'here where i sit must have been the altar.' 'true; this standing bit of wall was the chancel end.' anne had been adding up her little studies of the trumpet-major's character, and was surprised to find how the brightness of that character increased in her eyes with each examination. a kindly and gentle sensation was again aroused in her. here was a neglected heroic man, who, loving her to distraction, deliberately doomed himself to pensive shade to avoid even the appearance of standing in a brother's way. 'if the altar stood here, hundreds of people have been made man and wife just there, in past times,' she said, with calm deliberateness, throwing a little stone on a spot about a yard westward. john annihilated another tender burst and replied, 'yes, this field used to be a village. my grandfather could call to mind when there were houses here. but the squire pulled 'em down, because poor folk were an eyesore to him.' 'do you know, john, what you once asked me to do?' she continued, not accepting the digression, and turning her eyes upon him. 'in what sort of way?' 'in the matter of my future life, and yours.' 'i am afraid i don't.' 'john loveday!' he turned his back upon her for a moment, that she might not see his face. 'ah--i do remember,' he said at last, in a dry, small, repressed voice. 'well--need i say more? isn't it sufficient?' 'it would be sufficient,' answered the unhappy man. 'but--' she looked up with a reproachful smile, and shook her head. 'that summer,' she went on, 'you asked me ten times if you asked me once. i am older now; much more of a woman, you know; and my opinion is changed about some people; especially about one.' 'o anne, anne!' he burst out as, racked between honour and desire, he snatched up her hand. the next moment it fell heavily to her lap. he had absolutely relinquished it half-way to his lips. 'i have been thinking lately,' he said, with preternaturally sudden calmness, 'that men of the military profession ought not to m--ought to be like st. paul, i mean.' 'fie, john; pretending religion!' she said sternly. 'it isn't that at all. _it's bob_!' 'yes!' cried the miserable trumpet-major. 'i have had a letter from him to-day.' he pulled out a sheet of paper from his breast. 'that's it! he's promoted--he's a lieutenant, and appointed to a sloop that only cruises on our own coast, so that he'll be at home on leave half his time--he'll be a gentleman some day, and worthy of you!' he threw the letter into her lap, and drew back to the other side of the gable-wall. anne jumped up from her seat, flung away the letter without looking at it, and went hastily on. john did not attempt to overtake her. picking up the letter, he followed in her wake at a distance of a hundred yards. but, though anne had withdrawn from his presence thus precipitately, she never thought more highly of him in her life than she did five minutes afterwards, when the excitement of the moment had passed. she saw it all quite clearly; and his self-sacrifice impressed her so much that the effect was just the reverse of what he had been aiming to produce. the more he pleaded for bob, the more her perverse generosity pleaded for john. to-day the crisis had come--with what results she had not foreseen. as soon as the trumpet-major reached the nearest pen-and-ink he flung himself into a seat and wrote wildly to bob:-- 'dear robert,--i write these few lines to let you know that if you want anne garland you must come at once--you must come instantly, and post-haste--_or she will be gone_! somebody else wants her, and she wants him! it is your last chance, in the opinion of-- 'your faithful brother and well-wisher, 'john. 'p.s.--glad to hear of your promotion. tell me the day and i'll meet the coach.' xxxix. bob loveday struts up and down one night, about a week later, two men were walking in the dark along the turnpike road towards overcombe, one of them with a bag in his hand. 'now,' said the taller of the two, the squareness of whose shoulders signified that he wore epaulettes, 'now you must do the best you can for yourself, bob. i have done all i can; but th'hast thy work cut out, i can tell thee.' 'i wouldn't have run such a risk for the world,' said the other, in a tone of ingenuous contrition. 'but thou'st see, jack, i didn't think there was any danger, knowing you was taking care of her, and keeping my place warm for me. i didn't hurry myself, that's true; but, thinks i, if i get this promotion i am promised i shall naturally have leave, and then i'll go and see 'em all. gad, i shouldn't have been here now but for your letter!' 'you little think what risks you've run,' said his brother. 'however, try to make up for lost time.' 'all right. and whatever you do, jack, don't say a word about this other girl. hang the girl!--i was a great fool, i know; still, it is over now, and i am come to my senses. i suppose anne never caught a capful of wind from that quarter?' 'she knows all about it,' said john seriously. 'knows? by george, then, i'm ruined!' said bob, standing stock-still in the road as if he meant to remain there all night. 'that's what i meant by saying it would be a hard battle for 'ee,' returned john, with the same quietness as before. bob sighed and moved on. 'i don't deserve that woman!' he cried passionately, thumping his three upper ribs with his fist. 'i've thought as much myself,' observed john, with a dryness which was almost bitter. 'but it depends on how thou'st behave in future.' 'john,' said bob, taking his brother's hand, 'i'll be a new man. i solemnly swear by that eternal milestone staring at me there that i'll never look at another woman with the thought of marrying her whilst that darling is free--no, not if she be a mermaiden of light! it's a lucky thing that i'm slipped in on the quarterdeck! it may help me with her--hey?' 'it may with her mother; i don't think it will make much difference with anne. still, it is a good thing; and i hope that some day you'll command a big ship.' bob shook his head. 'officers are scarce; but i'm afraid my luck won't carry me so far as that.' 'did she ever tell you that she mentioned your name to the king?' the seaman stood still again. 'never!' he said. 'how did such a thing as that happen, in heaven's name?' john described in detail, and they walked on, lost in conjecture. as soon as they entered the house the returned officer of the navy was welcomed with acclamation by his father and david, with mild approval by mrs. loveday, and by anne not at all--that discreet maiden having carefully retired to her own room some time earlier in the evening. bob did not dare to ask for her in any positive manner; he just inquired about her health, and that was all. 'why, what's the matter with thy face, my son?' said the miller, staring. 'david, show a light here.' and a candle was thrust against bob's cheek, where there appeared a jagged streak like the geological remains of a lobster. 'o--that's where that rascally frenchman's grenade busted and hit me from the redoubtable, you know, as i told 'ee in my letter.' 'not a word!' 'what, didn't i tell 'ee? ah, no; i meant to, but i forgot it.' 'and here's a sort of dint in yer forehead too; what do that mean, my dear boy?' said the miller, putting his finger in a chasm in bob's skull. 'that was done in the indies. yes, that was rather a troublesome chop--a cutlass did it. i should have told 'ee, but i found 'twould make my letter so long that i put it off, and put it off; and at last thought it wasn't worth while.' john soon rose to take his departure. 'it's all up with me and her, you see,' said bob to him outside the door. 'she's not even going to see me.' 'wait a little,' said the trumpet-major. it was easy enough on the night of the arrival, in the midst of excitement, when blood was warm, for anne to be resolute in her avoidance of bob loveday. but in the morning determination is apt to grow invertebrate; rules of pugnacity are less easily acted up to, and a feeling of live and let live takes possession of the gentle soul. anne had not meant even to sit down to the same breakfast-table with bob; but when the rest were assembled, and had got some way through the substantial repast which was served at this hour in the miller's house, anne entered. she came silently as a phantom, her eyes cast down, her cheeks pale. it was a good long walk from the door to the table, and bob made a full inspection of her as she came up to a chair at the remotest corner, in the direct rays of the morning light, where she dumbly sat herself down. it was altogether different from how she had expected. here was she, who had done nothing, feeling all the embarrassment; and bob, who had done the wrong, feeling apparently quite at ease. 'you'll speak to bob, won't you, honey?' said the miller after a silence. to meet bob like this after an absence seemed irregular in his eyes. 'if he wish me to,' she replied, so addressing the miller that no part, scrap, or outlying beam whatever of her glance passed near the subject of her remark. 'he's a lieutenant, you know, dear,' said her mother on the same side; 'and he's been dreadfully wounded.' 'oh?' said anne, turning a little towards the false one; at which bob felt it to be time for him to put in a spoke for himself. 'i am glad to see you,' he said contritely; 'and how do you do?' 'very well, thank you.' he extended his hand. she allowed him to take hers, but only to the extent of a niggardly inch or so. at the same moment she glanced up at him, when their eyes met, and hers were again withdrawn. the hitch between the two younger members of the household tended to make the breakfast a dull one. bob was so depressed by her unforgiving manner that he could not throw that sparkle into his stories which their substance naturally required; and when the meal was over, and they went about their different businesses, the pair resembled the two dromios in seldom or never being, thanks to anne's subtle contrivances, both in the same room at the same time. this kind of performance repeated itself during several days. at last, after dogging her hither and thither, leaning with a wrinkled forehead against doorposts, taking an oblique view into the room where she happened to be, picking up worsted balls and getting no thanks, placing a splinter from the victory, several bullets from the redoubtable, a strip of the flag, and other interesting relics, carefully labelled, upon her table, and hearing no more about them than if they had been pebbles from the nearest brook, he hit upon a new plan. to avoid him she frequently sat upstairs in a window overlooking the garden. lieutenant loveday carefully dressed himself in a new uniform, which he had caused to be sent some days before, to dazzle admiring friends, but which he had never as yet put on in public or mentioned to a soul. when arrayed he entered the sunny garden, and there walked slowly up and down as he had seen nelson and captain hardy do on the quarter-deck; but keeping his right shoulder, on which his one epaulette was fixed, as much towards anne's window as possible. but she made no sign, though there was not the least question that she saw him. at the end of half-an-hour he went in, took off his clothes, and gave himself up to doubt and the best tobacco. he repeated the programme on the next afternoon, and on the next, never saying a word within doors about his doings or his notice. meanwhile the results in anne's chamber were not uninteresting. she had been looking out on the first day, and was duly amazed to see a naval officer in full uniform promenading in the path. finding it to be bob, she left the window with a sense that the scene was not for her; then, from mere curiosity, peeped out from behind the curtain. well, he was a pretty spectacle, she admitted, relieved as his figure was by a dense mass of sunny, close-trimmed hedge, over which nasturtiums climbed in wild luxuriance; and if she could care for him one bit, which she couldn't, his form would have been a delightful study, surpassing in interest even its splendour on the memorable day of their visit to the town theatre. she called her mother; mrs. loveday came promptly. 'o, it is nothing,' said anne indifferently; 'only that bob has got his uniform.' mrs. loveday peeped out, and raised her hands with delight. 'and he has not said a word to us about it! what a lovely epaulette! i must call his father.' 'no, indeed. as i take no interest in him i shall not let people come into my room to admire him.' 'well, you called me,' said her mother. 'it was because i thought you liked fine clothes. it is what i don't care for.' notwithstanding this assertion she again looked out at bob the next afternoon when his footsteps rustled on the gravel, and studied his appearance under all the varying angles of the sunlight, as if fine clothes and uniforms were not altogether a matter of indifference. he certainly was a splendid, gentlemanly, and gallant sailor from end to end of him; but then, what were a dashing presentment, a naval rank, and telling scars, if a man was fickle-hearted? however, she peeped on till the fourth day, and then she did not peep. the window was open, she looked right out, and bob knew that he had got a rise to his bait at last. he touched his hat to her, keeping his right shoulder forwards, and said, 'good-day, miss garland,' with a smile. anne replied, 'good-day,' with funereal seriousness; and the acquaintance thus revived led to the interchange of a few words at supper-time, at which mrs. loveday nodded with satisfaction. but anne took especial care that he should never meet her alone, and to insure this her ingenuity was in constant exercise. there were so many nooks and windings on the miller's rambling premises that she could never be sure he would not turn up within a foot of her, particularly as his thin shoes were almost noiseless. one fine afternoon she accompanied molly in search of elderberries for making the family wine which was drunk by mrs. loveday, anne, and anybody who could not stand the rougher and stronger liquors provided by the miller. after walking rather a long distance over the down they came to a grassy hollow, where elder-bushes in knots of twos and threes rose from an uneven bank and hung their heads towards the south, black and heavy with bunches of fruit. the charm of fruit-gathering to girls is enhanced in the case of elderberries by the inoffensive softness of the leaves, boughs, and bark, which makes getting into the branches easy and pleasant to the most indifferent climbers. anne and molly had soon gathered a basketful, and sending the servant home with it, anne remained in the bush picking and throwing down bunch by bunch upon the grass. she was so absorbed in her occupation of pulling the twigs towards her, and the rustling of their leaves so filled her ears, that it was a great surprise when, on turning her head, she perceived a similar movement to her own among the boughs of the adjoining bush. at first she thought they were disturbed by being partly in contact with the boughs of her bush; but in a moment robert loveday's face peered from them, at a distance of about a yard from her own. anne uttered a little indignant 'well!' recovered herself, and went on plucking. bob thereupon went on plucking likewise. 'i am picking elderberries for your mother,' said the lieutenant at last, humbly. 'so i see.' 'and i happen to have come to the next bush to yours.' 'so i see; but not the reason why.' anne was now in the westernmost branches of the bush, and bob had leant across into the eastern branches of his. in gathering he swayed towards her, back again, forward again. 'i beg pardon,' he said, when a further swing than usual had taken him almost in contact with her. 'then why do you do it?' 'the wind rocks the bough, and the bough rocks me.' she expressed by a look her opinion of this statement in the face of the gentlest breeze; and bob pursued: 'i am afraid the berries will stain your pretty hands.' 'i wear gloves.' 'ah, that's a plan i should never have thought of. can i help you?' 'not at all.' 'you are offended: that's what that means.' 'no,' she said. 'then will you shake hands?' anne hesitated; then slowly stretched out her hand, which he took at once. 'that will do,' she said, finding that he did not relinquish it immediately. but as he still held it, she pulled, the effect of which was to draw bob's swaying person, bough and all, towards her, and herself towards him. 'i am afraid to let go your hand,' said that officer, 'for if i do your spar will fly back, and you will be thrown upon the deck with great violence.' 'i wish you to let me go!' he accordingly did, and she flew back, but did not by any means fall. 'it reminds me of the times when i used to be aloft clinging to a yard not much bigger than this tree-stem, in the mid-atlantic, and thinking about you. i could see you in my fancy as plain as i see you now.' 'me, or some other woman!' retorted anne haughtily. 'no!' declared bob, shaking the bush for emphasis, 'i'll protest that i did not think of anybody but you all the time we were dropping down channel, all the time we were off cadiz, all the time through battles and bombardments. i seemed to see you in the smoke, and, thinks i, if i go to davy's locker, what will she do?' 'you didn't think that when you landed after trafalgar.' 'well, now,' said the lieutenant in a reasoning tone; 'that was a curious thing. you'll hardly believe it, maybe; but when a man is away from the woman he loves best in the port--world, i mean--he can have a sort of temporary feeling for another without disturbing the old one, which flows along under the same as ever.' 'i can't believe it, and won't,' said anne firmly. molly now appeared with the empty basket, and when it had been filled from the heap on the grass, anne went home with her, bidding loveday a frigid adieu. the same evening, when bob was absent, the miller proposed that they should all three go to an upper window of the house, to get a distant view of some rockets and illuminations which were to be exhibited in the town and harbour in honour of the king, who had returned this year as usual. they accordingly went upstairs to an empty attic, placed chairs against the window, and put out the light; anne sitting in the middle, her mother close by, and the miller behind, smoking. no sign of any pyrotechnic display was visible over the port as yet, and mrs. loveday passed the time by talking to the miller, who replied in monosyllables. while this was going on anne fancied that she heard some one approach, and presently felt sure that bob was drawing near her in the surrounding darkness; but as the other two had noticed nothing she said not a word. all at once the swarthy expanse of southward sky was broken by the blaze of several rockets simultaneously ascending from different ships in the roads. at the very same moment a warm mysterious hand slipped round her own, and gave it a gentle squeeze. 'o dear!' said anne, with a sudden start away. 'how nervous you are, child, to be startled by fireworks so far off,' said mrs. loveday. 'i never saw rockets before,' murmured anne, recovering from her surprise. mrs. loveday presently spoke again. 'i wonder what has become of bob?' anne did not reply, being much exercised in trying to get her hand away from the one that imprisoned it; and whatever the miller thought he kept to himself, because it disturbed his smoking to speak. another batch of rockets went up. 'o i never!' said anne, in a half-suppressed tone, springing in her chair. a second hand had with the rise of the rockets leapt round her waist. 'poor girl, you certainly must have change of scene at this rate,' said mrs. loveday. 'i suppose i must,' murmured the dutiful daughter. for some minutes nothing further occurred to disturb anne's serenity. then a slow, quiet 'a-hem' came from the obscurity of the apartment. 'what, bob? how long have you been there?' inquired mrs. loveday. 'not long,' said the lieutenant coolly. 'i heard you were all here, and crept up quietly, not to disturb ye.' 'why don't you wear heels to your shoes like christian people, and not creep about so like a cat?' 'well, it keeps your floors clean to go slip-shod.' 'that's true.' meanwhile anne was gently but firmly trying to pull bob's arm from her waist, her distressful difficulty being that in freeing her waist she enslaved her hand, and in getting her hand free she enslaved her waist. finding the struggle a futile one, owing to the invisibility of her antagonist, and her wish to keep its nature secret from the other two, she arose, and saying that she did not care to see any more, felt her way downstairs. bob followed, leaving loveday and his wife to themselves. 'dear anne,' he began, when he had got down, and saw her in the candle- light of the large room. but she adroitly passed out at the other door, at which he took a candle and followed her to the small room. 'dear anne, do let me speak,' he repeated, as soon as the rays revealed her figure. but she passed into the bakehouse before he could say more; whereupon he perseveringly did the same. looking round for her here he perceived her at the end of the room, where there were no means of exit whatever. 'dear anne,' he began again, setting down the candle, 'you must try to forgive me; really you must. i love you the best of anybody in the wide, wide world. try to forgive me; come!' and he imploringly took her hand. anne's bosom began to surge and fall like a small tide, her eyes remaining fixed upon the floor; till, when loveday ventured to draw her slightly towards him, she burst out crying. 'i don't like you, bob; i don't!' she suddenly exclaimed between her sobs. 'i did once, but i don't now--i can't, i can't; you have been very cruel to me!' she violently turned away, weeping. 'i have, i have been terribly bad, i know,' answered bob, conscience-stricken by her grief. 'but--if you could only forgive me--i promise that i'll never do anything to grieve 'ee again. do you forgive me, anne?' anne's only reply was crying and shaking her head. 'let's make it up. come, say we have made it up, dear.' she withdrew her hand, and still keeping her eyes buried in her handkerchief, said 'no.' 'very well, then!' exclaimed bob, with sudden determination. 'now i know my doom! and whatever you hear of as happening to me, mind this, you cruel girl, that it is all your causing!' saying this he strode with a hasty tread across the room into the passage and out at the door, slamming it loudly behind him. anne suddenly looked up from her handkerchief, and stared with round wet eyes and parted lips at the door by which he had gone. having remained with suspended breath in this attitude for a few seconds she turned round, bent her head upon the table, and burst out weeping anew with thrice the violence of the former time. it really seemed now as if her grief would overwhelm her, all the emotions which had been suppressed, bottled up, and concealed since bob's return having made themselves a sluice at last. but such things have their end; and left to herself in the large, vacant, old apartment, she grew quieter, and at last calm. at length she took the candle and ascended to her bedroom, where she bathed her eyes and looked in the glass to see if she had made herself a dreadful object. it was not so bad as she had expected, and she went downstairs again. nobody was there, and, sitting down, she wondered what bob had really meant by his words. it was too dreadful to think that he intended to go straight away to sea without seeing her again, and frightened at what she had done she waited anxiously for his return. xl. a call on business her suspense was interrupted by a very gentle tapping at the door, and then the rustle of a hand over its surface, as if searching for the latch in the dark. the door opened a few inches, and the alabaster face of uncle benjy appeared in the slit. 'o, squire derriman, you frighten me!' 'all alone?' he asked in a whisper. 'my mother and mr. loveday are somewhere about the house.' 'that will do,' he said, coming forward. 'i be wherrited out of my life, and i have thought of you again--you yourself, dear anne, and not the miller. if you will only take this and lock it up for a few days till i can find another good place for it--if you only would!' and he breathlessly deposited the tin box on the table. 'what, obliged to dig it up from the cellar?' 'ay; my nephew hath a scent of the place--how, i don't know! but he and a young woman he's met with are searching everywhere. i worked like a wire- drawer to get it up and away while they were scraping in the next cellar. now where could ye put it, dear? 'tis only a few documents, and my will, and such like, you know. poor soul o' me, i'm worn out with running and fright!' 'i'll put it here till i can think of a better place,' said anne, lifting the box. 'dear me, how heavy it is!' 'yes, yes,' said uncle benjy hastily; 'the box is iron, you see. however, take care of it, because i am going to make it worth your while. ah, you are a good girl, anne. i wish you was mine!' anne looked at uncle benjy. she had known for some time that she possessed all the affection he had to bestow. 'why do you wish that?' she said simply. 'now don't ye argue with me. where d'ye put the coffer?' 'here,' said anne, going to the window-seat, which rose as a flap, disclosing a boxed receptacle beneath, as in many old houses. ''tis very well for the present,' he said dubiously, and they dropped the coffer in, anne locking down the seat, and giving him the key. 'now i don't want ye to be on my side for nothing,' he went on. 'i never did now, did i? this is for you.' he handed her a little packet of paper, which anne turned over and looked at curiously. 'i always meant to do it,' continued uncle benjy, gazing at the packet as it lay in her hand, and sighing. 'come, open it, my dear; i always meant to do it!' she opened it and found twenty new guineas snugly packed within. 'yes, they are for you. i always meant to do it!' he said, sighing again. 'but you owe me nothing!' returned anne, holding them out. 'don't say it!' cried uncle benjy, covering his eyes. 'put 'em away. . . . well, if you _don't_ want 'em--but put 'em away, dear anne; they are for you, because you have kept my counsel. good-night t'ye. yes, they are for you.' he went a few steps, and turning back added anxiously, 'you won't spend 'em in clothes, or waste 'em in fairings, or ornaments of any kind, my dear girl?' 'i will not,' said anne. 'i wish you would have them.' 'no, no,' said uncle benjy, rushing off to escape their shine. but he had got no further than the passage when he returned again. 'and you won't lend 'em to anybody, or put 'em into the bank--for no bank is safe in these troublous times?. . . if i was you i'd keep them _exactly_ as they be, and not spend 'em on any account. shall i lock them into my box for ye?' 'certainly,' said she; and the farmer rapidly unlocked the window-bench, opened the box, and locked them in. ''tis much the best plan,' he said with great satisfaction as he returned the keys to his pocket. 'there they will always be safe, you see, and you won't be exposed to temptation.' when the old man had been gone a few minutes, the miller and his wife came in, quite unconscious of all that had passed. anne's anxiety about bob was again uppermost now, and she spoke but meagrely of old derriman's visit, and nothing of what he had left. she would fain have asked them if they knew where bob was, but that she did not wish to inform them of the rupture. she was forced to admit to herself that she had somewhat tried his patience, and that impulsive men had been known to do dark things with themselves at such times. they sat down to supper, the clock ticked rapidly on, and at length the miller said, 'bob is later than usual. where can he be?' as they both looked at her, she could no longer keep the secret. 'it is my fault,' she cried; 'i have driven him away! what shall i do?' the nature of the quarrel was at once guessed, and her two elders said no more. anne rose and went to the front door, where she listened for every sound with a palpitating heart. then she went in; then she went out: and on one occasion she heard the miller say, 'i wonder what hath passed between bob and anne. i hope the chap will come home.' just about this time light footsteps were heard without, and bob bounced into the passage. anne, who stood back in the dark while he passed, followed him into the room, where her mother and the miller were on the point of retiring to bed, candle in hand. 'i have kept ye up, i fear,' began bob cheerily, and apparently without the faintest recollection of his tragic exit from the house. 'but the truth on't is, i met with fess derriman at the "duke of york" as i went from here, and there we have been playing put ever since, not noticing how the time was going. i haven't had a good chat with the fellow for years and years, and really he is an out and out good comrade--a regular hearty! poor fellow, he's been very badly used. i never heard the rights of the story till now; but it seems that old uncle of his treats him shamefully. he has been hiding away his money, so that poor fess might not have a farthing, till at last the young man has turned, like any other worm, and is now determined to ferret out what he has done with it. the poor young chap hadn't a farthing of ready money till i lent him a couple of guineas--a thing i never did more willingly in my life. but the man was very honourable. "no; no," says he, "don't let me deprive ye." he's going to marry, and what may you think he is going to do it for?' 'for love, i hope,' said anne's mother. 'for money, i suppose, since he's so short,' said the miller. 'no,' said bob, 'for _spite_. he has been badly served--deuced badly served--by a woman. i never heard of a more heartless case in my life. the poor chap wouldn't mention names, but it seems this young woman has trifled with him in all manner of cruel ways--pushed him into the river, tried to steal his horse when he was called out to defend his country--in short, served him rascally. so i gave him the two guineas and said, "now let's drink to the hussy's downfall!"' 'o!' said anne, having approached behind him. bob turned and saw her, and at the same moment mr. and mrs. loveday discreetly retired by the other door. 'is it peace?' he asked tenderly. 'o yes,' she anxiously replied. 'i--didn't mean to make you think i had no heart.' at this bob inclined his countenance towards hers. 'no,' she said, smiling through two incipient tears as she drew back. 'you are to show good behaviour for six months, and you must promise not to frighten me again by running off when i--show you how badly you have served me.' 'i am yours obedient--in anything,' cried bob. 'but am i pardoned?' youth is foolish; and does a woman often let her reasoning in favour of the worthier stand in the way of her perverse desire for the less worthy at such times as these? she murmured some soft words, ending with 'do you repent?' it would be superfluous to transcribe bob's answer. footsteps were heard without. 'o begad; i forgot!' said bob. 'he's waiting out there for a light.' 'who?' 'my friend derriman.' 'but, bob, i have to explain.' but festus had by this time entered the lobby, and anne, with a hasty 'get rid of him at once!' vanished upstairs. here she waited and waited, but festus did not seem inclined to depart; and at last, foreboding some collision of interests from bob's new friendship for this man, she crept into a storeroom which was over the apartment into which loveday and festus had gone. by looking through a knot-hole in the floor it was easy to command a view of the room beneath, this being unceiled, with moulded beams and rafters. festus had sat down on the hollow window-bench, and was continuing the statement of his wrongs. 'if he only knew what he was sitting upon,' she thought apprehensively, 'how easily he could tear up the flap, lock and all, with his strong arm, and seize upon poor uncle benjy's possessions!' but he did not appear to know, unless he were acting, which was just possible. after a while he rose, and going to the table lifted the candle to light his pipe. at the moment when the flame began diving into the bowl the door noiselessly opened and a figure slipped across the room to the window-bench, hastily unlocked it, withdrew the box, and beat a retreat. anne in a moment recognized the ghostly intruder as festus derriman's uncle. before he could get out of the room festus set down the candle and turned. 'what--uncle benjy--haw, haw! here at this time of night?' uncle benjy's eyes grew paralyzed, and his mouth opened and shut like a frog's in a drought, the action producing no sound. 'what have we got here--a tin box--the box of boxes? why, i'll carry it for 'ee, uncle!--i am going home.' 'n-no-no, thanky, festus: it is n-n-not heavy at all, thanky,' gasped the squireen. 'o but i must,' said festus, pulling at the box. 'don't let him have it, bob!' screamed the excited anne through the hole in the floor. 'no, don't let him!' cried the uncle. ''tis a plot--there's a woman at the window waiting to help him!' anne's eyes flew to the window, and she saw matilda's face pressed against the pane. bob, though he did not know whence anne's command proceeded obeyed with alacrity, pulled the box from the two relatives, and placed it on the table beside him. 'now, look here, hearties; what's the meaning o' this?' he said. 'he's trying to rob me of all i possess!' cried the old man. 'my heart- strings seem as if they were going crack, crack, crack!' at this instant the miller in his shirt-sleeves entered the room, having got thus far in his undressing when he heard the noise. bob and festus turned to him to explain; and when the latter had had his say bob added, 'well, all i know is that this box'--here he stretched out his hand to lay it upon the lid for emphasis. but as nothing but thin air met his fingers where the box had been, he turned, and found that the box was gone, uncle benjy having vanished also. festus, with an imprecation, hastened to the door, but though the night was not dark farmer derriman and his burden were nowhere to be seen. on the bridge festus joined a shadowy female form, and they went along the road together, followed for some distance by bob, lest they should meet with and harm the old man. but the precaution was unnecessary: nowhere on the road was there any sign of farmer derriman, or of the box that belonged to him. when bob re-entered the house anne and mrs. loveday had joined the miller downstairs, and then for the first time he learnt who had been the heroine of festus's lamentable story, with many other particulars of that yeoman's history which he had never before known. bob swore that he would not speak to the traitor again, and the family retired. the escape of old mr. derriman from the annoyances of his nephew not only held good for that night, but for next day, and for ever. just after dawn on the following morning a labouring man, who was going to his work, saw the old farmer and landowner leaning over a rail in a mead near his house, apparently engaged in contemplating the water of a brook before him. drawing near, the man spoke, but uncle benjy did not reply. his head was hanging strangely, his body being supported in its erect position entirely by the rail that passed under each arm. on after-examination it was found that uncle benjy's poor withered heart had cracked and stopped its beating from damages inflicted on it by the excitements of his life, and of the previous night in particular. the unconscious carcass was little more than a light empty husk, dry and fleshless as that of a dead heron found on a moor in january. but the tin box was not discovered with or near him. it was searched for all the week, and all the month. the mill-pond was dragged, quarries were examined, woods were threaded, rewards were offered; but in vain. at length one day in the spring, when the mill-house was about to be cleaned throughout, the chimney-board of anne's bedroom, concealing a yawning fire-place, had to be taken down. in the chasm behind it stood the missing deed-box of farmer derriman. many were the conjectures as to how it had got there. then anne remembered that on going to bed on the night of the collision between festus and his uncle in the room below, she had seen mud on the carpet of her room, and the miller remembered that he had seen footprints on the back staircase. the solution of the mystery seemed to be that the late uncle benjy, instead of running off from the house with his box, had doubled on getting out of the front door, entered at the back, deposited his box in anne's chamber where it was found, and then leisurely pursued his way home at the heels of festus, intending to tell anne of his trick the next day--an intention that was for ever frustrated by the stroke of death. mr. derriman's solicitor was a casterbridge man, and anne placed the box in his hands. uncle benjy's will was discovered within; and by this testament anne's queer old friend appointed her sole executrix of his said will, and, more than that, gave and bequeathed to the same young lady all his real and personal estate, with the solitary exception of five small freehold houses in a back street in budmouth, which were devised to his nephew festus, as a sufficient property to maintain him decently, without affording any margin for extravagances. oxwell hall, with its muddy quadrangle, archways, mullioned windows, cracked battlements, and weed-grown garden, passed with the rest into the hands of anne. xli. john marches into the night during this exciting time john loveday seldom or never appeared at the mill. with the recall of bob, in which he had been sole agent, his mission seemed to be complete. one mid-day, before anne had made any change in her manner of living on account of her unexpected acquisition, lieutenant bob came in rather suddenly. he had been to budmouth, and announced to the arrested senses of the family that the --th dragoons were ordered to join sir arthur wellesley in the peninsula. these tidings produced a great impression on the household. john had been so long in the neighbourhood, either at camp or in barracks, that they had almost forgotten the possibility of his being sent away; and they now began to reflect upon the singular infrequency of his calls since his brother's return. there was not much time, however, for reflection, if they wished to make the most of john's farewell visit, which was to be paid the same evening, the departure of the regiment being fixed for next day. a hurried valedictory supper was prepared during the afternoon, and shortly afterwards john arrived. he seemed to be more thoughtful and a trifle paler than of old, but beyond these traces, which might have been due to the natural wear and tear of time, he showed no signs of gloom. on his way through the town that morning a curious little incident had occurred to him. he was walking past one of the churches when a wedding-party came forth, the bride and bridegroom being matilda and festus derriman. at sight of the trumpet-major the yeoman had glared triumphantly; matilda, on her part, had winked at him slily, as much as to say--. but what she meant heaven knows: the trumpet-major did not trouble himself to think, and passed on without returning the mark of confidence with which she had favoured him. soon after john's arrival at the mill several of his friends dropped in for the same purpose of bidding adieu. they were mostly the men who had been entertained there on the occasion of the regiment's advent on the down, when anne and her mother were coaxed in to grace the party by their superior presence; and their well-trained, gallant manners were such as to make them interesting visitors now as at all times. for it was a period when romance had not so greatly faded out of military life as it has done in these days of short service, heterogeneous mixing, and transient campaigns; when the esprit de corps was strong, and long experience stamped noteworthy professional characteristics even on rank and file; while the miller's visitors had the additional advantage of being picked men. they could not stay so long to-night as on that earlier and more cheerful occasion, and the final adieus were spoken at an early hour. it was no mere playing at departure, as when they had gone to exonbury barracks, and there was a warm and prolonged shaking of hands all round. 'you'll wish the poor fellows good-bye?' said bob to anne, who had not come forward for that purpose like the rest. 'they are going away, and would like to have your good word.' she then shyly advanced, and every man felt that he must make some pretty speech as he shook her by the hand. 'good-bye! may you remember us as long as it makes ye happy, and forget us as soon as it makes ye sad,' said sergeant brett. 'good-night! health, wealth, and long life to ye!' said sergeant-major wills, taking her hand from brett. 'i trust to meet ye again as the wife of a worthy man,' said trumpeter buck. 'we'll drink your health throughout the campaign, and so good-bye t'ye,' said saddler-sergeant jones, raising her hand to his lips. three others followed with similar remarks, to each of which anne blushingly replied as well as she could, wishing them a prosperous voyage, easy conquest, and a speedy return. but, alas, for that! battles and skirmishes, advances and retreats, fevers and fatigues, told hard on anne's gallant friends in the coming time. of the seven upon whom these wishes were bestowed, five, including the trumpet-major, were dead men within the few following years, and their bones left to moulder in the land of their campaigns. john lingered behind. when the others were outside, expressing a final farewell to his father, bob, and mrs. loveday, he came to anne, who remained within. 'but i thought you were going to look in again before leaving?' she said gently. 'no; i find i cannot. good-bye!' 'john,' said anne, holding his right hand in both hers, 'i must tell you something. you were wise in not taking me at my word that day. i was greatly mistaken about myself. gratitude is not love, though i wanted to make it so for the time. you don't call me thoughtless for what i did?' 'my dear anne,' cried john, with more gaiety than truthfulness, 'don't let yourself be troubled! what happens is for the best. soldiers love here to-day and there to-morrow. who knows that you won't hear of my attentions to some spanish maid before a month is gone by? 'tis the way of us, you know; a soldier's heart is not worth a week's purchase--ha, ha! goodbye, good-bye!' anne felt the expediency of his manner, received the affectation as real, and smiled her reply, not knowing that the adieu was for evermore. then with a tear in his eye he went out of the door, where he bade farewell to the miller, mrs. loveday, and bob, who said at parting, 'it's all right, jack, my dear fellow. after a coaxing that would have been enough to win three ordinary englishwomen, five french, and ten mulotters, she has to- day agreed to bestow her hand upon me at the end of six months. good-bye, jack, good-bye!' the candle held by his father shed its waving light upon john's face and uniform as with a farewell smile he turned on the doorstone, backed by the black night; and in another moment he had plunged into the darkness, the ring of his smart step dying away upon the bridge as he joined his companions-in-arms, and went off to blow his trumpet till silenced for ever upon one of the bloody battle-fields of spain. footnotes: { } _vide_ preface. { } _vide_ preface. { } _vide_ preface. { } _vide_ preface. { } _vide_ preface. proofreaders newton forster or, the merchant service by captain marryat london j.m. dent and co. boston: little, brown and co. mdcccxcv , [illustration] contents chapter i chapter ii chapter iii chapter iv chapter v chapter vi chapter vii chapter viii chapter ix chapter x chapter xi chapter xii chapter xiii chapter xiv chapter xv chapter xvi chapter xvii chapter xviii chapter xix chapter xx chapter xxi chapter xxii chapter xxiii chapter xxiv chapter xxv chapter xxvi chapter xxvii chapter xxviii chapter xxix chapter xxx chapter xxxi chapter xxxii chapter xxxiii chapter xxxiv chapter xxxv chapter xxxvi chapter xxxvii chapter xxxviii chapter xxxix chapter xl chapter xli chapter xlii chapter xliii chapter xliv chapter xlv chapter xlvi chapter xlvii chapter xlviii chapter xlix chapter l chapter li chapter lii chapter liii prefatory note _newton forster, or the merchant service_, first appeared in the _metropolitan magazine_, . it is one of the novels which specially suggests a comparison between marryat and smollett, both authors having described acts of impressment with vigour and indignation. jeffrey, of the _edinburgh review_, wrote to mrs marryat, january :---- "that i have read it [_newton forster_] all through in the week i have to finish the preparation of our scotch reform bill (if you will forgive me for mentioning such a thing) is proof enough, i think, that my opinion is very favourable. it is certainly very entertaining, which i take to be the first virtue of a work of this description; but it is interesting as well as entertaining, and not only shows great power of invention, but a very amiable nature and a kind heart." the _editor_ quoted on page is presumably marryat himself. at least the footnote occurs in the first edition, and was probably reprinted from the magazine, where the identity of editor and author was not so patent. it is here printed from the first edition, in three volumes; motto: honesty is the best policy. james cochrane & co., .[ ] r.b.j. [footnote : thompson has been changed to johnson and, in another place, robinson to robertson, in order to let the same characters act under one name throughout the book.] newton forster; or, the merchant service * * * * * chapter i "and what is this new book the whole world makes such a rout about? ----oh! 'tis out of all plumb, my lord,----quite an irregular thing; not one of the angles at the four corners was a right angle. i had my rule and compasses, my lord, in my pocket----excellent critic! "grant me patience, just heaven! of all the cants which are canted in this canting world----though the cant of hypocrites may be the worst, the cant of criticism is the most tormenting!"----sterne. what authors in general may feel upon the subject i know not, but i have discovered, since i so rashly took up my pen, that there are three portions of a novel which are extremely difficult to arrange to the satisfaction of a fastidious public. the first is the beginning, the second the middle, and the third is the end. the painter who, in times of yore, exposed his canvas to universal criticism, and found, to his mortification, that there was not a particle of his composition which had not been pronounced defective by one pseudo-critic or another, did not receive severer castigation than i have experienced from the _unsolicited_ remarks of "d----d good-natured friends." "i like your first and second volume," said a tall, long-chinned, short-sighted blue, dressed in yellow, peering into my face, as if her eyes were magnifying glasses, and she was obtaining the true focus of vision, "but you fall off in your last, which is all about that _nasty_ line-of-battle ship." "i don't like your plot, sir," bawls out in a stentorian voice an elderly gentleman; "i don't like your plot, sir," repeated he with an air of authority, which he had long assumed, from supposing because people would not be at the trouble of contradicting his opinions, that they were incontrovertible--"there is nothing but death." "death, my dear sir," replied i, as if i was hailing the lookout man at the mast-head, and hoping to soften him with my intentional bull; "is not death, sir, a true picture of human life?" "ay, ay," growled he, either not hearing or not _taking_; "it's all very well, but--there's too much killing in it." "in a novel, sir, killing's no murder, you surely will admit; and you must also allow something for professional feeling--''tis my occupation;' and after five-and-twenty years of constant practice, whether i wield the sword or the pen, the force of habit----" "it won't do, sir," interrupted he; "the public don't like it. otherwise," continued this hypercritic, softening a little, "some of the chapters are amusing, and, on the whole, it may be said to be rather--that is--not unpleasantly written." "i like your first and third volume, but not your second," squeaked out _something_ intended to have been a woman, with shoulder-blades and collar-bones, as de ville would say, most strongly developed. "well now, i don't exactly agree with you, my dear miss peego; i think the second and third volumes are by far the most _readable_" exclaimed _another thing_, perched upon a chair, with her feet dangling half way between her seat and the carpet. "if i might presume upon my long standing in the service, captain----," said a pompous general officer, whose back appeared to have been _fished_ with the kitchen poker--"if i might venture to offer you advice," continued he, leading me paternally by the arm a little on one side, "it would be not again to attempt a defence of smuggling: i consider, sir, that as an officer in his majesty's service, you have strangely committed yourself." "it is not my defence, sir: they are the arguments of a smuggler." "you wrote the book, sir," replied he, sharply; "i can assure you that i should not be surprised if the admiralty took notice of it." "indeed, sir!" replied i, with assumed alarm. i received no answer, except a most significant nod of the head, as he walked away. but i have not yet arrived at the climax, which made me inclined to exclaim, with the expiring lion in the fable---- a midshipman--yes, reader, a midshipman--who had formerly belonged to my ship and had trembled at my frown, ranged up alongside of me, and, with a supercilious air, observed-- "i have read your book, and--there are _one_ or _two_ good things in it." hear this, admirals and captains on half-pay! hear this, port-admirals and captains afloat! i have often heard that the service was deteriorating, going to the devil, but i never became a convert to the opinion before. gracious heaven! what a revengeful feeling is there in the exclamation "o that mine adversary had _written a book_!" to be snarled at, and bow-wowed at, in this manner, by those who find fault because their intellect is not sufficient to enable them to appreciate! authors, take my resolution; which is, never to show your face until your work has passed through the ordeal of the reviews--keep your room for the month after your literary labour. reviews are like jesuit father confessors--guiding the opinions of the multitude, who blindly follow the suggestions of those to whom they may have entrusted their literary consciences. if your work is denounced and to be released at once from your sufferings by one blow from the paw of a tiger, than to be worried piecemeal by creatures who have all the will, but not the power, to inflict the _coup de grace_? the author of "cloudesley," enumerating the qualifications necessary to a writer of fiction, observes, "when he introduces his ideal personage to the public, he enters upon his task with a preconception of the qualities that belong to this being, the principle of his actions, and its necessary concomitants, &c, &c." that such preparation ought to be made, i will not deny; but were i to attempt an adherence to these rules, the public would never be troubled with any production of mine. it would be too tedious a journey in perspective for my wayward intellect; and if i calculated stages before i ordered my horses, i should abandon the attempt, and remain quietly at home. mine is not a journey of that methodical description; on the contrary, it is a ramble hand-in-hand with fancy, with a light heart and a lighter baggage; for my whole wallet, when i set off, contains but one single idea--but ideas are hermaphrodite, and these creatures of the brain are most prolific. to speak more intelligibly, i never have made any arrangement of plot when i commenced a work of fiction, and often finish a chapter without having the slightest idea of what materials the ensuing one is to be constructed. at times i feel so tired that i throw down the pen in despair; but t is soon taken up again, and, like a pigmy ant, it seems to have imbibed fresh vigour from its prostration. i remember when the "king's own" was finished, i was as happy as a pedestrian who had accomplished his thousand miles in a thousand hours. my voluntary slavery was over, and i was emancipated. where was i then? i recollect; within two days' sail of the lizard, returning home, after a six weeks' cruise to discover a rock in the atlantic, which never existed except in the terrified or intoxicated noddle of some master of a merchant vessel. it was about half-past five in the evening, and i was alone in my after-cabin, quite alone, as the captain of a man-of-war must be, even when in presence of his ship's company. if being sent to sea has been pronounced by the officers and men to be _transportation_, being the captain of the ship may truly be designated as _solitary confinement_. i could not send for any one to whom i could impart the intelligence--there was no one whom i could expect to sympathise with me, or to whom i could pour out the abundance of my joy; for that the service prohibited. what could i do? why, i could dance; so i sprang from my chair, and singing the tune, commenced a quadrille movement,--tal de ral la, tal de ral la, lity, lity, lity, liddle-um, tal de ral la, tal-- "three bells, sir," cried the first lieutenant, who had opened my door unperceived by me, and showed evident surprise at my motions; "shall we beat to quarters?"-- "certainly, mr b--," replied i, and he disappeared. but this interruption produced only a temporary cessation: i was in the height of "cavalier seul," when his head popped into the cabin-- "all present, and sober, sir," reported he, with a demure smile. "except the captain, i presume you are thinking," replied i. "oh! no, indeed, sir; i observed that you were very merry." "i am, mr b--, but not with wine; mine is a sort of intellectual intoxication not provided for in the articles of war." "a what! sir?" "oh! something that you'll never get drunk upon, as you never look into a book--beat a retreat." "ay, ay, sir," replied the first lieutenant; and he disappeared. and i also beat a retreat to my sofa; and as i threw myself upon it, mentally vowed that, for two months at the least, i never would take up a pen. but we seldom make a vow which we do not eventually break; and the reason is obvious. we vow only when hurried into excesses; we are alarmed at the dominion which has been acquired over us by our feelings, or by our habits. checked for a time by an adherence to our resolutions, they gradually recover their former strength, until they again break forth, and we yield to their overpowering influence. a few days after i had made the resolution, i found myself, like the sailor, _rewarding_ it by writing more indefatigably than ever. so now, reader, you may understand that i continue to write, as tony lumpkin says, not to please my good-natured friends, "but because i can't bear to disappoint myself;" for that which i commenced as an amusement, and continued as a drudgery, has ended in becoming a _confirmed habit_. so much for the overture. now let us draw up the curtain, and our actors shall appear upon the stage. chapter ii "boldly i venture on a naval scene, nor fear the critics' frown, the pedants' spleen. sons of the ocean, we their rules disdain. hark!--a shock tears her strong bottom on the marble rock. down on the vale of death, with dismal cries, the fated victims, shuddering, roll their eyes in wild despair--while yet another stroke with deep convulsion rends the solid oak, till like the mine in whose infernal cell the lurking demons of destruction dwell, at length, asunder torn, her frame divides, and crushing, spreads in ruin o'er the tides." falconer. it was in the dreary month of fog, misanthropy, and suicide--the month during which heaven receives a scantier tribute of gratitude from discontented man--during which the sun rises, but shines not--gives forth an unwilling light, but glads us not with his cheerful rays--during which large tallow candles assist the merchant to calculate his gains or to philosophise over his losses--in short, it was one evening in the month of november of the year l --, that edward forster, who had served many years in his majesty's navy, was seated in a snug armchair, in a snug parlour, in a snug cottage to which he had retired upon his half-pay, in consequence of a severe wound which had, for many years, healed but to break out again each succeeding spring. the locality of the cottage was not exactly so snug as it has been described in itself and its interior; for it was situated on a hill which terminated at a short distance in a precipitous cliff, beetling over that portion of the atlantic which lashes the shores of cumberland under the sub-denomination of the irish sea. but forster had been all his early life a sailor, and still felt the same pleasure in listening to the moaning and whistling of the wind, as it rattled the shutters of his cottage (like some importunate who would gain admittance), as he used to experience when, lying in his hammock, he was awakened by the howling of the blast, and shrouding himself in his blankets to resume his nap, rejoiced that he was not exposed to its fury. his finances did not allow him to indulge in luxuries, and the distillation of the country was substituted for wine. with his feet upon the fender and his glass of whiskey-toddy at his side, he had been led into a train of thought by the book which he had been reading, some passage of which had recalled to his memory scenes that had long passed away--the scenes of youth and hope--the happy castle-building of the fresh in heart, invariably overthrown by time and disappointment. the night was tempestuous; the rain now pattered loud, then ceased as if it had fed the wind, which renewed its violence, and forced its way through every crevice. the carpet of his little room occasionally rose from the floor, swelled up by the insidious entrance of the searching blast; the solitary candle, which from neglect had not only elongated its wick to an unusual extent, but had formed a sort of mushroom top, was every moment in danger of extinction, while the chintz curtains of the window waved solemnly to and fro. but the deep reverie of edward forster was suddenly disturbed by the report of a gun, swept to leeward by the impetuosity of the gale, which hurled it with violence against the door and front windows of his cottage, for some moments causing them to vibrate with the concussion. forster started up, dropping his book upon the hearth, and jerking the table with his elbow, so as to dash out the larger proportion of the contents of his tumbler. the sooty coronal of the wick also fell with the shock, and the candle, relieved from its burden, poured forth a brighter gleam. "lord ha' mercy, mr forster; did you hear that noise?" cried the old housekeeper (the only inhabitant of the cottage except himself), as she bolted into the room, holding her apron in both hands. "i did, indeed, mrs beazely," replied forster; "it's the signal of a vessel in distress, and she must be on a dead lee-shore. give me my hat!" and draining off the remainder in his tumbler, while the old lady reached his hat off a peg in the passage, he darted out from the door of his tenement. the door, which faced to seaward, flew open with violence, as forster disappeared in the darkness of the night. the old housekeeper, on whom had devolved the task of securing it, found it no easy matter; and the rain, blown in by the sweeping gale, proved an effectual and unwelcome shower-bath to one who complained bitterly of the rheumatics. at last her object was accomplished, and she repaired to the parlour to re-light the candle which had been extinguished, and await the return of her master. after sundry ejaculations and sundry wonders, she took possession of his arm-chair, poked the fire, and helped herself to a glass of whiskey-toddy. as soon as her clothes and her tumbler were again dry, she announced by loud snores that she was in a happy state of oblivion; in which we shall leave her, to follow the motions of edward forster. it was about seven o'clock in the evening when forster thus exposed himself to the inclemency of the weather. but a few weeks before how beautiful were the evenings at this hour; the sun disappearing beyond the distant wave, and leaving a portion of his glory behind him, until the stars, in obedience to the divine fiat, were lighted up to "shine by night;" the sea rippling on the sand, or pouring into the crevices of the rocks, changing its hue, as day-light slowly disappeared, to the more sombre colours it reflected, from azure to each deeper tint of grey, until darkness closed in, and its extent was scarcely to be defined by the horizontal line. now all was changed. the roaring of the wind and the hoarse beating of the waves upon the streaming rocks deafened the ears of edward forster. the rain and spray were hurled in his face, as, with both hands, he secured his hat upon his head; and the night was so intensely dark that but occasionally he could distinguish the broad belt of foam with which the coast was lined. still forster forced his way towards the beach, which it is now requisite that we should more particularly describe. as we before observed, the cottage was built upon a high land, which terminated in a precipitous cliff about two hundred yards distant, and running in a direct line to the westward. to the northward the coast for miles was one continued line of rocky cliffs, affording no chance of life to those who might be dashed upon them; but to the southward of the cliff which formed the promontory opposite to forster's cottage, and which terminated the range, there was a deep indent in the line of coast, forming a sandy and nearly land-locked bay, small indeed, but so sheltered that any vessel which could run in might remain there in safety until the gale was spent. its only occupant was a fisherman, who, with his family, lived in a small cottage on the beach. he was an ally of forster, who had entrusted to his charge a skiff, in which, during the summer months, he often whiled away his time. it was to this cottage that forster bent his way, and loudly knocked when he arrived. "robertson--i say, robertson," called forster, at the full compass of his voice. "he is not here, mr forster," answered jane, the wife of the fisherman; "he is out, looking for the vessel." "which way did he go?" before an answer could be returned, robertson himself appeared. "i'm here, mr forster," said he, taking off his fur cap, and squeezing out with both hands the water with which it was loaded; "but i can't see the vessel." "still, by the report of the gun, she must be close to the shore. get some fagots out from the shed, and light as large a fire as you can: don't spare them, my good fellow; i will pay you." "that i'll do, sir, and without pay; i only hope that they'll understand the signal, and lay her on shore in the cove. there's another gun!" this second report, so much louder than the former, indicated that the vessel had rapidly neared the land; and the direction from which the report came proved that she must be close to the promontory of rocks. "be smart, my dear fellow, be smart," cried forster. "i will go up to the cliff, and try if i can make her out;" and the parties separated upon their mutual work of sympathy and good will. it was not without danger, as well as difficulty, that forster succeeded in his attempt; and when he arrived at the summit, a violent gust of wind would have thrown him off his legs, had he not sunk down upon his knees and clung to the herbage, losing his hat, which was borne far away to leeward. in this position, drenched with the rain and shivering with the cold, he remained some minutes, attempting in vain, with straining eyes, to pierce through the gloom of the night, when a flash of lightning, which darted from the zenith, and continued its eccentric career until it was lost behind the horizon, discovered to him the object of his research. but a few moments did he behold it, and then, from the sudden contrast, a film appeared to swim over his aching eyes, and all was more intensely, more horribly dark than before; but to the eye of a seafaring man this short view was sufficient. he perceived that it was a large ship, within a quarter of a mile of the land, pressed gunnel under with her reefed courses, chopping through the heavy seas--now pointing her bowsprit to the heavens, as she rose over the impeding swell; now plunging deep into the trough encircled by the foam raised by her own exertions, like some huge monster of the deep, struggling in her toils and lashing the seas around in her violent efforts to escape. the fire burnt up fiercely in the cove, in defiance of the rain and wind, which, after in vain attempting to destroy it in its birth, now seemed to assist it with their violence. "she may yet be saved," thought forster, "if she will only carry on. two cables' length more, and she will be clear of the point." again and again was the vessel momentarily presented to his view, as the forked lightning darted in every quarter of the firmament, while the astounding claps of thunder bursting upon his ears before the lightning had ceased to gleam, announced to him that he was kneeling in the very centre of the war of the elements. the vessel neared the cliff in about the same proportion that she forged ahead. forster was breathless with anxiety, for the last flash of electricity revealed to him that two moments more would decide her fate. the gale now redoubled its fury, and forster was obliged to cling for his existence as he sank, from his kneeling posture, flat upon the wet herbage. still he had approached so near to the edge of the cliff that his view below was not interrupted by his change of posture. another flash of lightning. it was enough! "god have mercy on their souls!" cried he, dropping his face upon the ground as if to shut out the horrid vision from his sight. he had beheld the vessel within the surf, but a few yards distant from the outer rocks, thrown on her beam-ends, with both foresail and mainsail blown clear out of their bolt-ropes. the cry for succour was raised in vain; the wail of despair was not heard; the struggles for life were not beheld, as the elements in their wrath roared and howled over their victim. as if satiated with its devastation, from that moment the storm gradually abated, and forster, taking advantage of a lull, slowly descended to the cove, where he found robertson still heaping fuel on the fire. "save your wood, my good fellow; it's all over with her; and those who were on board are in eternity at this moment," said forster, in a melancholy tone. "is she gone then, sir?" "right on the outer ledge; there's not a living soul to see your beacon." "god's will be done!" replied the fisherman; "then their time was come--but he who destroys, can save if he pleases; i'll not put out the fire while there's a fagot left, for you know, mr forster, that if anyone should by a miracle be thrown into the smooth water on this side of the point, he might be saved; that is, if he swam well:"--and robertson threw on more fagots, which soon flared up with a brilliant light. the fisherman returned to the cottage, to procure for forster a red woollen cap in lieu of the hat which he had lost; and they both sat down close to the fire to warm themselves and to dry their streaming clothes. robertson had once more replenished the fuel, and the vivid blaze glared along the water in the cove, when the eye of forster was attracted by the appearance of something floating on the wave, and evidently nearing to the shore. he pointed it out to the fisherman, and they descended to the water's edge, awaiting its approach with intense anxiety. "it's not a man, sir, is it?" observed robertson after a minute's pause. "i cannot make it out," replied forster; "but i rather think that it is an animal--something living, most assuredly." in another minute or two the point was decided; they distinguished a large dog bearing something white in its mouth, and making for the shore where they were standing. calling to the poor beast to cheer him, for he evidently was much exhausted, and approached but slowly, they soon had the satisfaction of seeing him pass through the surf, which, even at this time, was not heavy in the cove, and, with the water pouring from his shaggy coat, stagger towards them, bearing in his mouth his burden, which he laid down at forster's feet, and then shook off the accumulation of moisture from his skin. forster took up the object of the animal's solicitude--it was the body of an infant, apparently a few months old. "poor thing!" cried forster, mournfully. "it's quite dead, sir," observed the fisherman. "i am afraid so," replied forster, "but it cannot have been so long; the dog evidently bore it up clear of the water until it came into the surf. who knows but we might restore it?" "if anything will restore it, sir, it will be the warmth of a woman's breast, to which it hitherto hath clung. jane shall take it in her bed, between her and the little ones;" and the fisherman entered the hut with the child, which was undressed, and received by his wife with all the sympathy which maternal feelings create, even towards the offspring of others. to the delight of forster, in a quarter of an hour robertson came out of the cottage with the intelligence that the child had moved and cried a little, and that there was every chance of its recovery. "it's a beautiful little girl, sir, jane says; and if it lives, she will halve her milk between it and our little tommy." forster remained another half-hour, until he had ascertained that the child had taken the breast and had fallen asleep. congratulating himself at having been the means of saving even one little life out of the many which, in all probability, had been swallowed up, he called to the dog, who had remained passive by the fire, and rose up to return home; but the dog retreated to the door of the cottage into which he had seen the infant carried, and all attempts to coax him away were fruitless. forster summoned robertson, to whom he gave some further directions, and then returned to his home, where, on his arrival, his old housekeeper, who had never been awakened from her sound nap until roused by his knocking at the door, scolded him not a little for being out in such tempestuous weather, and a great deal more for having obliged her to sit up and _watch_ all night until his return. chapter iii "creation smiles around; on every spray the warbling birds exalt their evening lay; blithe skipping o'er yon hill, the fleecy train join the deep chorus of the lowing plain: the glassy ocean, hush'd, forgets to roar, but trembling, murmurs on the sandy shore." falconer. forster was soon fast asleep after his night of exertion: his dreams were confused and wild; but i seldom trouble people about dreams, which are as naught. when reason descends from her throne, and seeks a transitory respite from her labour, fancy usurps the vacant seat, and in pretended majesty, would fain exert her sister's various powers. these she enacts to the best of her ability, and with about the same success as attends a monkey when he attempts the several operations connected with the mystery of shaving:--and thus ends a very short and conclusive dissertation upon dreams. but, to use a nautical phrase, we must "heave-to" in our narrative awhile, as it is necessary that we should enter a little more into the previous history of edward forster; which we can now do without interruption, as the parties we have introduced to the reader are all asleep. the father of edward forster was a clergyman, who, notwithstanding he could reckon up some twenty or thirty first, second, and third cousins with high-sounding titles, officiated as curate in a district not far from that part of the country where forster at present was located. he was one of the bees of the church, who are constantly toiling, while the drones are eating up the honey. he preached three sermons, and read three services, at three different stations every sunday throughout the year; while he christened, married, and buried a population extending over some thousands of square acres, for the scanty stipend of one hundred per annum. soon after he was in possession of his curacy, he married a young woman, who brought him beauty and modesty as her dower, and subsequently pledges of mutual love ad lib. but he that giveth, taketh away; and out of nearly a score of these interesting but expensive presents to her husband, only three, all of the masculine gender, arrived at years of maturity. john (or jock as he usually was called), who was the eldest, was despatched to london, where he studied the law under a relation; who, perceiving that mrs forster's annual presentation _of_ the living was not followed up by any presentation _to_ the living, kindly took charge of and received him into his own house. jock was a hard-headed fellow, studied with great diligence, and retained what he read, although he did not read fast; but that which he lost in speed he made up by perseverance, and had now, entirely by his own exertions, risen to considerable eminence in his profession; but he had been severed from his family in early days, and had never been able to return to them. he heard, indeed, of the birth of sundry brothers and sisters; of their deaths; and lastly, of the demise of his parents,--the only communication which affected him; for he loved his father and mother, and was anticipating the period when he might possess the means of rendering them more comfortable. but all this had long passed away. he was now a bachelor past fifty, bearish and uncouth in his appearance, and ungracious in his deportment. secluded in his chambers, poring over the dry technicalities of his profession, he had divided the moral world into two parts--honest and dishonest, lawful and unlawful. all other feelings and affections, if he had them, were buried, and had never been raised to the surface. at the time we speak of, he continued his laborious, yet lucrative, profession, toiling in his harness like a horse in a mill, heaping up riches, knowing not who should gather them; not from avarice, but from long habit, which rendered his profession not only his pleasure, but essential to his very existence. edward forster had not seen him for nearly twenty years; the last time was when he passed through london upon his retirement from the service. indeed, as they never corresponded (for there was nothing in common between them), it is a matter of doubt whether jock was exactly aware which of his brothers remained alive; and had it been a subject of interest, he would, in all probability, have referred to the former letters of his father and mother, as legal documents, to ascertain who was remaining of his kin. the next surviving son was _yclept_ (there's something very _consonant_ in that word) nicholas. the reverend mr forster, who had no inheritance to bequeath to his family except a _good name_, which, although better than _riches_, will not always procure for a man one penny loaf, naturally watched for any peculiar symptoms of genius in his children which might designate one of the various paths to wealth and fame by which it would be most easy for the individual to ascend. now it did occur that when nicholas was yet in womanish attire, he showed a great partiality to a burning-glass, with which he contrived to do much mischief. he would burn the dog's nose as he slept in the sun before the door. his mother's gown showed proofs of his genius by sundry little round holes, which were considerably increased each time that it returned from the wash. nay, heretical and damnable as is the fact, his father's surplice was as a moth-eaten garment from the repeated and insidious attacks of this young philosopher. the burning-glass decided his fate. he was bound apprentice to an optical and mathematical instrument maker; from which situation he was, if possible, to emerge into the highest grade of the profession; but somehow or another, a want of ambition or of talent did not permit him to ascend the scale, and he now kept a shop in the small seaport town of overton, where he repaired damaged articles of science--a watch one day, a quadrant or a compass another; but his chief employment and his chief forte lay in telescopes; and accordingly, a large board, with "nicholas forster, optician," surmounted the small shop window, at which he was invariably to be seen at his employment. he was an eccentric person, one of those who had narrowly escaped being clever; but there was an obliquity in his mind which would not admit of lucid order and arrangement. in the small town where he resided, he continued to pick up a decent sustenance; for he had no competitor, and was looked upon as a man of considerable ability. he was the only one of the three brothers who had ventured upon wedlock. but of this part of our history we shall at present say no more than that he had an only child, and had married his wife, to use his own expression, because she _suited his focus_. edward forster, the youngest, whom we have already introduced to the reader, showed strong nautical propensities; he swam nut-shells in a puddle, and sent pieces of lath with paper sails floating down the brook which gurgled by the parsonage. this was circumstantial evidence: he was convicted, and ordered off to sea, to return a nelson. for his conduct during the time he served her, edward forster certainly deserved well of his country; and had he been enabled to continue in his profession, would in all probability have risen by his merit to its highest grades; but having served his time as midshipman, he received a desperate wound in "cutting out," and shortly after obtained his promotion to the rank of lieutenant for his gallant conduct. his wound was of that severe description that he was obliged to quit the service, and, for a time, retire upon his half-pay. for many years he looked forward to the period when he could resume his career:--but in vain; the wound broke out again and again; fresh splinters of the bone continually worked out, and he was doomed to constant disappointment. at last it healed; but years of suffering had quenched the ardour of youth, and when he did apply for employment, his services had been forgotten. he received a cool negative, almost consonant to his wishes: and returned, without feeling mortified, to the cottage we have described, where he lived a secluded yet not unhappy life. his wants were few, and his half-pay more than adequate to supply them. a happy contemplative indolence, arising from a well-cultivated mind, feeding rather upon its previous acquirements than adding to its store--an equanimity of disposition, and a habit of rigid self-command--were the characteristics of edward forster; whom i shall now awaken, that we may proceed with our narrative. "well, i do declare, mr forster, you have had a famous nap," cried mrs beazely, in a tone of voice so loud as to put an immediate end to his slumber, as she entered his room with some hot water to assist him in that masculine operation, the diurnal painful return of which has been considered to be more than tantamount in suffering to the occasional "pleasing punishment which women bear." although this cannot be proved until ladies are endowed with beards (which heaven forfend!), or some modern tiresias shall appear to decide the point, the assertion appears to be borne out, if we reason by analogy from human life; where we find that it is not the heavy blow of sudden misfortune tripping the ladder of our ambition and laying us prostrate, which constitutes life's intermittent "fitful fever," but the thousand petty vexations of hourly occurrence.----we return to mrs beazely, who continued--"why, it's nine o'clock, mr forster, and a nice fresh morning it is too, after last night's tempest. and pray what did you hear and see, sir?" continued the old woman, opening the shutters and admitting a blaze of sunshine, as if determined that at all events he should now both _hear_ and _see_. "i'll tell you all, mrs beazely, when i am dressed. let me have my breakfast as soon as you can, for i must be off again to the cove. i did not intend to have slept so late." "why, what's in the wind now, mr forster?" said the old lady, borrowing one of his nautical phrases. "if you wish to know, mrs beazely, the sooner you allow me to get out of bed, the sooner i shall be able to give you the information you require." "but what made you stay out so late, mr forster?" continued the housekeeper, who seemed determined, if possible, to have a little information _en attendant_, to stay her appetite until her curiosity could obtain a more substantial repast. "i am sorry to say, there was a vessel wrecked." "oh dear! o dear! any lives lost?" "all, i am afraid, except one, and even that is doubtful." "o lord! o lord! do, pray, mr forster, tell me all about it." "as soon as i am dressed, mrs beazely," replied mr forster, making a movement indicative that he was about to _"turn out," whether or no_, and which occasioned mrs beazely to make a hasty retreat. in a few minutes forster made his appearance in the parlour, where he found both the kettle and the housekeeper boiling with impatience. he commenced eating and narrating until the respective appetites of mrs beazely and himself were equally appeased, and then set off for the abode of robertson, to ascertain the fate of the infant. how different was the scene from that of the night before! the sea was still in commotion; and as the bright sun shone upon its agitated surface, gilding the summits of the waves, although there was majesty and beauty in the appearance, there was nought to excite terror. the atmosphere, purified by the warfare of the elements, was fresh and bracing. the short verdure which covered the promontory and hills adjacent was of a more brilliant green, and seemed as if to bask in the sun after the cleansing it had received from the heavy rain; while the sheep (for the coast was one extended sheep-walk) studded the sides of the hills, their white fleeces in strong yet beautiful contrast with the deep verdure of nature. the smooth water of the cove, in opposition to the vexed billows of the unsheltered ocean; the murmuring of the light waves, running in long and gently curved lines to their repose upon the yellow sand; their surface occasionally rippled by the eddying breeze as it swept along; his own little skiff safe at her moorings, undulating with the swell; the sea-gulls, who but a few hours ago were screaming with dismay as they buffeted against the fury of the gale, now skimming on the waves, or balanced on the wing near to their inaccessible retreats; the carolling of the smaller birds on every side of him, produced a lightness of heart and quickened pulse, to which edward forster had latterly been a stranger. he soon arrived at the cottage, where the sound of his footsteps brought out the fisherman and his wife, the latter bearing in her arms the little object of his solicitude. "see, mr forster," said jane, holding out the infant, "it's quite well and hearty, and does nothing but smile. what a lovely babe it is!" forster looked at the child, who smiled, as if in gratitude; but his attention was called away by the newfoundland dog, who fawned upon him, and after having received his caresses, squatted down upon the sand, which he beat with his tail as he looked wistfully in forster's face. forster took the child from the arms of its new mother. "thou hast had a narrow escape, poor thing," said he, and his countenance assumed a melancholy cast as the ideas floated in his mind. "who knows how many more perils may await thee? who can say whether thou art to be restored to the arms of thy relatives, or to be left an orphan to a sailor's care? whether it had not been better that the waves should have swallowed thee in thy purity, than thou shouldest be exposed to a heartless world of sorrow and of crime? but he who willed thee to be saved knows best for us who are in darkness;" and forster kissed its brow, and returned it to the arms of jane. having made a few arrangements with robertson and his wife, in whose care he resolved at present to leave the child, forster bent his steps towards the promontory, that he might ascertain if any part of the vessel remained. stretching over the summit of the cliff, he perceived that several of the lower futtocks and timbers still hung together, and showed themselves above water. anxious to obtain some clue to her identity, he prepared to descend by a winding and hazardous path which he had before surmounted. in a quarter of an hour he had gained a position close to the wreck; but, with the exception of the shattered remnant which was firmly wedged between the rocks, there was nothing to be seen; not a fragment of her masts and spars, or sails, not a relic of what once was life remained. the tide, which ran furiously round the promontory, had swept them all away, or the _undertow_ of the deep water had buried every detached particle, to be delivered up again, "far, far at sea." all that forster could ascertain was that the vessel was foreign built, and of large tonnage; but who were its unfortunate tenants, or what the cargo, of which she had been despoiled by the devouring waves, was not even to be surmised. the linen on the child was marked j. de f.; and this was the only clue which remained for its identity. for more than an hour did forster remain fixed as a statue upon the rock, where he had taken his station with arms folded, while he contemplated the hoarse waves dashing against the bends, or dividing as they poured themselves between the timbers of the vessel, and he sank into deep and melancholy thought. and where is the object exciting more serious reflection than a _wreck_? the pride and ingenuity of man humbled and overcome; the elements of the lord occupying the fabric which had set them at defiance; tossing, tumbling, and dancing, as if in mockery at their success! the structure, but a few hours past, as perfect as human intellect could devise, towering with its proud canvas over space, and bearing man to greet his fellow-man, over the _surface of death_!--dashing the billow from her stem, as if in scorn, while she pursued her trackless way--bearing tidings of peace and security, of war and devastation--tidings of joy or grief, affecting whole kingdoms and empires, as if they were but individuals! now, the waters delight in their revenge, and sparkle with joy, as the sun shines upon their victory. that keel, which with the sharpness of a scythe has so often mowed its course through the reluctant wave, is now buried--buried deep in the sand, which the angry surge accumulates each minute, as if determined that it never will be subject to its weight again. how many seasons had rolled away, how many millions had returned to the dust from which they sprung, before the kernels had swelled into the forest giants levelled for that structure;--what labour had been undergone to complete the task;--how many of the existent race found employment and subsistence as they slowly raised that monument of human skill;--how often had the weary miner laid aside his tool to wipe his sweating brow, before the metals required for its completion had been brought from darkness;--what thousands had been employed before it was prepared and ready for its destined use! yon copper bolt, twisted with a force not human, and raised above the waters, as if in evidence of their dreadful power, may contain a history in itself. how many of her own structure must have been employed, bringing from the north, the south, the east, and the west, her masts, her spars, her "_hempen tackle_," and her canvas wings; her equipment in all its variety; her stores for the support of life; her magazines of _quiescent death_.[ ] and they who so fearlessly trod her decks, conscious of their own powers, and confident in their own skill; they who expanded her thousands of yards of canvas to the pursuing breeze, or reduced them, like magic, at the approaching storm--where are they now? how many sighs have been lavished at their absence! how many hearths would have been gladdened by their return! where are the hopes, the fears, the ambition, and the pride; the courage and the enterprise; the love and the yearnings after their kin; the speculations of the present, and the calculations of the future, which occupied their minds, or were cherished in their bosoms? all--all _wrecked_! [footnote : we presume the gentleman means gunpowder.--ed.] days, weeks, and months rolled away; yet every step that could be taken to find out the name of the vessel proved unavailing. although the conjecture of forster, that she was one of the many foreign west indiamen which had met with a similar fate during that tempestuous winter, was probably correct; still no clue could be gathered by which the parentage of the little girl could be ascertained. the linen was, indeed, marked with initials; but this circumstance offered but a faint prospect of discovery. either her relations, convinced of her loss, made no inquiries, or the name of the vessel in which she had been a passenger was not known to them. the child had been weaned, and removed to the cottage, where it occupied much of the attention of the old housekeeper and forster, who, despairing of its ever being reclaimed, determined to bring it up as his own. mrs beazely, the housekeeper, was a good-tempered woman, long past the grand climacteric, and strongly attached to forster, with whom she had resided many years. but, like all women, whether married or single, who have the responsibility of a household, she would have her own way; and scolded her master with as little ceremony as if she had been united to him by matrimonial bonds. to this forster quietly submitted; he had lived long enough to be aware that people are not the happiest who are not under control, and was philosopher sufficient to submit to the penal code of matrimony without tasting its enjoyments. the arrival of the infant made him more than ever feel as if he were a married man; for he had all the delights of the nursery in addition to his previous discipline. but, although bound by no ties, he found himself happier. he soon played with the infant, and submitted to his housekeeper with all the docility of a well-trained married man. the newfoundland dog, who, although (like some of his betters) he did not change his name _for_ a fortune, did, in all probability, change it _with_ his fortune, soon answered to the deserved epithet of "faithful," and slept at the foot of the crib of his little mistress, who also was to be rechristened. "she is a treasure, which has been thrown up by the ocean," said forster, kissing the lovely infant. "let her name be _amber_." but we must leave her to bud forth in her innocence and purity, while we direct the attention of the reader to other scenes, which are contemporary with those we have described. chapter iv "a woman moved is like a fountain troubled, muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; and while 'tis so, none so dry or thirsty will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it." shakespeare. a man may purchase an estate, a tenement, or a horse, because they have pleased his fancy, and eventually find out that he has not exactly suited himself; and it sometimes will occur that a man is placed in a similar situation relative to his choice of a wife:--a more serious evil; as, although the prime cost may be nothing, there is no chance of getting rid of this latter speculation by re-vending, as you may the former. now it happened that nicholas forster, of whom we have already made slight mention, although he considered at the time of his marriage that the person he had selected would _exactly suit his focus_, did eventually discover that he was more short-sighted in his choice than an optician ought to have been. whatever may have been the personal charms of mrs nicholas forster at the time of their union, she had, at the period of our narrative, but few to boast of, being a thin, sharp-nosed, ferret-eyed little woman, teeming with suspicion, jealousy, and bad humours of every description: her whole employment (we may say, her whole delight) was in finding fault: her shrill voice was to be heard from the other side of the street from morning until night. the one servant which their finances enabled them with difficulty to retain, and whom they engaged as a maid of all work (and certainly she was not permitted by mrs forster to be idle in her multifarious duty), seldom remained above her _month_; and nothing but the prospect of immediate starvation could induce any one to offer herself in the capacity. mr nicholas forster, fortunately for his own happiness, was of, that peculiar temperament that nothing could completely rouse his anger: he was _absent_ to an excess; and if any language or behaviour on the part of his wife induced his choler to rise, other ideas would efface the cause from his memory; and this hydra of the human bosom, missing the object of its intended attack, again lay down to rest. the violence and vituperation of his spouse were, therefore, lost upon nicholas forster; and the impossibility of disturbing the equanimity of his temper increased the irritability of her own. still mr nicholas forster, when he did reflect upon the subject, which was but during momentary fits of recollection, could not help acknowledging that he should be much more quiet and happy when it pleased heaven to summon mrs forster to a better world: and this idea ultimately took possession of his imagination. her constant turbulence interfered so much with the prosecution of his plans, that, finding it impossible to carry them into execution, everything that he considered of moment was mentally put off until _mrs forster was dead_! "well, mr forster, how long is the dinner to wait before you think proper to come? everything will be cold, as usual. (n.b. the dinner consisted of the remains of a cold shoulder of mutton.)--or do you mean to have any dinner at all? betty, clear away the table; i have my work to do, and won't wait any longer." "i'm coming, my dear, i'm coming; only this balance-spring is a job that i cannot well leave," replied nicholas, continuing his vocation in the shop, with a magnifying glass attached to his eye. "coming! yes, and christmas is coming, mr forster.--well, the dinner's going, i can tell you." nicholas, who did not want appetite, and who was conscious that if the mutton returned to the cupboard there would be some difficulty made in reproducing it, laid down the watch and came into the back parlour. "well, my dear, here i am; sorry to have kept you waiting so long, but business must be attended to. dear me! why, the mutton is really quite cold," continued nicholas, thrusting a large piece into his mouth, quite forgetting that he had already dined twice off the identical joint. "that's a fine watch of mr tobin's; but i think that my improvement upon the duplex when i have finished it--" "when you have finished it, indeed!" retorted the lady; "why, when did you ever finish anything, mr forster? finish, indeed!" "well, my dear," replied the husband, with an absent air--"i do mean to finish it, when--_you are dead_!" "when i am dead!" screamed the lady, in a rage--"when i am dead!" continued she, placing her arms akimbo, as she started from the chair. "i can tell you, mr forster, that i'll live long enough to plague you. it's not the first time that you've said so; but depend upon it, i'll dance upon your grave yet, mr forster." "i did not exactly mean to say that; not exactly that, my dear," replied nicholas, confused. "the fact is that i was not exactly aware of what i was saying--i had not precisely the--" "precisely the fiddle-stick, mr forster! you did mean it, and you do mean it, and this is all the return that i am to expect for my kindness and anxiety for your welfare--slaving and toiling all day as i do; but you're incorrigible, mr forster: look at you, helping yourself out of your snuff-box instead of the salt-cellar. what man in his senses would eat a cold shoulder of mutton with tobacco?" "dear me, so i have," replied forster, removing the snuff taken from the box, which, as usual, lay open before him, not into the box again, but into the salt-cellar. "and who's to eat that salt now, you nasty beast?" "i am not a beast, mrs forster," replied her husband, whose choler was roused; "i made a mistake; i do not perceive--now i recollect it, did you send betty with the 'day and night glass' to captain simkins?" "yes, i did, mr forster; if i did not look after your business, i should like to know what would become of us; and i can tell you, mr forster, that if you do not contrive to get more business, there will soon be nothing to eat; seventeen and sixpence is all that i have received this last week; and how rent and fire, meat and drink, are to be paid for with that, you must explain, for i can't." "how can i help it, my dear? i never refuse a job." "never refuse a job? no; but you must contrive to make more business." "i can mend a watch, and make a telescope, but i can't make business, my dear," replied nicholas. "yes, you can, and you must, mr forster," continued the lady, sweeping off the remains of the mutton, just as her husband had fixed his eye upon the next cut, and locking it up in the cupboard--"if you do not, you will have nothing to eat, mr forster." "so it appears, my dear," replied the meek nicholas, taking a pinch of snuff; "but i really don't--" "why, mr forster, if you were not one of the greatest--" "no, no, my dear," interrupted nicholas, from extreme modesty, "i am not one of the greatest opticians of the present day; although, when i've made my improve--" "greatest opticians!" interrupted the lady. "one of the greatest _fools_, i meant!" "that's quite another thing, my dear; but--" "no _buts_, mr forster; please to listen, and not interrupt me again in that bearish manner. why do you repair in the way you do? who ever brings you a watch or a glass that you have handled a second time?" "but why should they, my dear, when i have put them in good order?" "put them in order! but why do you put them in order?" "why do i put them in order, my dear?" replied forster, with astonishment. "yes; why don't you leave a screw loose, somewhere? then they must come again. that's the proper way to do business." "the proper way to do my business, my dear, is to see that all the screws are tight." "and starve!" continued the lady. "if it please god," replied the honest nicholas but this matrimonial duet was interrupted by the appearance of their son, whom we must introduce to the reader, as he will play a conspicuous part in our narrative. newton forster, for thus had he been christened by his father, out of respect _for the great sir isaac_, was now about seventeen years old--athletic and well-proportioned in person, handsome in features, and equally gifted in mind. there was a frankness and sincerity in his open brow, an honesty in his smile, which immediately won upon the beholder; and his countenance was but an index to his mind. his father had bestowed all his own leisure, and some expense, which he could ill afford, upon his education, trusting one day that he would rival the genius after whom he had been christened; but newton was not of a disposition to _sit_ down either at a desk or a workbench. whenever he could escape from home or from school, he was to be found either on the beach or at the pier, under the shelter of which the coasting vessels discharged or received their cargoes; and he had for some years declared his intention to follow the profession of a sailor. to this his father had reluctantly consented, with the proviso that he would first finish his education; and the mutual compact had been strictly adhered to by each party. at the age of fifteen, newton had acquired all that could be imparted to him by the pedagogue of the vicinity, and had then, until something better should turn up, shipped himself on board of a coasting vessel, in which, during the last two years, he had made several trips, being usually absent about six weeks, and remaining in port about the same time, until another cargo could be procured. young as he was, the superiority of his education had obtained him the situation of mate of the vessel; and his pay enabled him to assist his father, whose business, as mrs forster declared, was not sufficient to "make both ends meet." upon his return, his love of knowledge and active habits induced him to glean as much as he could of his father's profession, and he could repair most articles that were sent in. although newton amused himself with the peculiarities and eccentricity of his father, he still had a high respect for him, as he knew him to be a worthy, honest man. for his mother he certainly had none: he was indignant at her treatment of his father, and could find no redeeming quality to make amends for her catalogue of imperfections. still he had a peculiar tact, by which he avoided any serious altercation. never losing his own temper, yet quietly and firmly resisting all control, he assumed a dominion over her, from which her feelings towards him, whatever they may have been in his early years, were now changed into those of positive hatred. his absence this morning had been occasioned by his assistance being required in the fitting of a new main-stay for the sloop to which he belonged. "please god what, father?" said newton, as he came in, catching his father's last words. "why, your mother says that we must starve, or be dishonest." "then we'll starve, father, with a clear conscience; but i hope that things are not so bad yet, for i am devilish hungry," continued newton, looking at the dinner-table, which offered to his view nothing but a table-cloth, with the salt-cellar and the snuff-box. "why, mother, is it dead low water, or have you stowed all away in the locker?" and newton repaired to the cupboard, which was locked. now mrs forster was violent with others, but with newton she was always sulky. "there's nothing in the cupboard," growled the lady. "then why lock up nothing?" rejoined newton, who was aware that veracity was not among mrs forster's catalogue of virtues. "come, mother, hand me the key, and i'll ferret out something, i'll answer for it." mrs forster replied that the cupboard was her own, and she was mistress of the house. "just as you please, mother. but, before i take the trouble, tell me, father, is there anything in the cupboard?" "why, yes, newton, there's some mutton. at least, if i recollect right, i did not eat it all--did i, my dear?" mrs forster did not condescend an answer. newton went into the shop, and returned with a chisel and hammer. taking a chair to stand upon, he very coolly began to force the lock. "i am very sorry, mother, but i must have something to eat; and since you won't give me the key, why--" observed newton, giving the handle of the chisel a smart blow with the hammer-- "here's the key, sir," cried mrs forster, with indignation, throwing it on the table, and bouncing out of the room. a smile was exchanged between the father and son, as she went backwards, screaming, "betty--i say, betty, you idle slut, where are you?" as if determined to vent her spleen upon somebody. "have you dined, father?" inquired newton, who had now placed the contents of the cupboard upon the table. "why, i really don't quite recollect; but i feel very hungry," replied the optician, putting in his plate to receive two large slices; and father and son sat down to a hearty meal, proving the truth of the wise man's observation, that, "better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than the stalled ox and hatred therewith." chapter v "whate'er it be, 'tis wondrous heavy. wrench it open straight. if the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold, it is a good constraint of fortune, that it belches on us." shakespeare. about three weeks after the events narrated in the preceding chapter, newton forster sailed in his vessel with a cargo to be delivered at the seaport of waterford. the master of her was immoderately addicted to liquor; and during the time that he remained in port, seldom was to be found in a state of perfect sobriety, even on a sunday. but, to do him justice, when his vessel was declared ready for sea, he abstained from his usual indulgence, that he might be enabled to take charge of the property committed to his care, and find his way to his destined port. it was a point on which his interest overcame, for a time, his darling propensity: and his rigid adherence to sobriety, when afloat, was so well ascertained, that his character as a trustworthy seaman was not injured by his continual intemperance when in harbour. latterly, however, since newton had sailed with him, he had not acted up to his important resolution. he found that the vessel was as safe under the charge of forster as under his own; and having taken great pains to instruct him in seamanship, and make him well acquainted with the dangers of the coast, he thought that, as newton was fully equal to the charge of the vessel, he might as well indulge himself with an occasional glass or two, to while away the tedium of embarkation. a stone pitcher of liquor was now his constant attendant when he pulled on board to weigh his anchor; which said pitcher, for fear of accidents, he carried down into the cabin himself. as soon as sail was on the vessel, and her course shaped, he followed his darling companion down into the cabin, and until the contents were exhausted was never sufficiently sober to make his appearance on deck; so that newton forster was, in fact, the _responsible_ master of the vessel. the wind, which had been favourable at the time of heaving up the anchor, changed, and blew directly in their teeth, before they were well out of sight of the port of overton. on the third day they were stretching off the land, to meet the first of the tide, under a light breeze and smooth water, when newton perceived various objects floating in the offing. a small thing is a good prize to a coaster; even an empty beaker is not to be despised; and newton kept away a point or two, that he might close and discover what the objects were. he soon distinguished one or two casks, swimming deeply, broken spars, and a variety of other articles. when the sloop was in the midst of them, newton hove-to, tossed out the little skiff, and, in the course of an hour, unknown to his captain, who was in bed sleeping off the effect of his last potations, brought alongside, and contrived to parbuckle in, the casks, and as many others of the floating articles as he could conveniently stow upon her decks. the boat was again hoisted in, by the united exertions of himself and his crew, consisting of _one_ man and _one_ boy; and the sloop, wearing round, reached in for the land. it was evident to newton that some large vessel had lately been wrecked, for the spars were fresh in the fracture, and clean--not like those long in the water, covered with sea-weed, and encircled by a shoal of fish, who finding sustenance from the animalculæ collected, follow the floating pieces of wood up and down, as their adopted parent, wherever they may be swept by the inconstant winds and tides. newton examined the heels of the spars, but they were not marked with the name of the vessel to which they had belonged. the two casks had only initials branded upon their heads; but nothing could be found which would designate the owners of the property. a large trunk riveted his attention; but he would not open it until the master of the vessel came upon deck. having ascertained by spiling that the contents of the casks were _real jamaica_, he went down into the cabin to announce what he knew would be most grateful intelligence. it was some time before newton could rouse his stupefied senior. "spars--wrecked!" "what spars? d--n the wreck!" growled old thompson (for such was his name), as he turned his back in no very ceremonious manner, and recommenced his snore. "there's a trunk besides, sir--a large trunk; but i did not open it, as you were not on deck. a large trunk, and rather heavy." "trunk!--well, what then? trunk!--oh, d--n the trunk!--let me go to sleep," muttered the master. "there's two large casks, too, sir; i've spiled them, and they prove to be puncheons of rum," bawled newton, who pertinaciously continued. "eh; what?--casks! what casks?" "two puncheons of rum." "rum!--did you say rum?" cried old thompson, lifting his head off the pillow, and staring stupidly at newton; "where?" "on deck. two casks: we picked them up as we were standing off the land." "picked them up?--are they on board?" inquired the master, sitting upright in his bed and rubbing his eyes. "yes, they're on board. won't you come on deck?" "to be sure i will. two puncheons of rum, you said?"--and old thompson gained his feet, and reeled to the companion ladder, holding on by _all fours_, as he climbed up without his shoes. when the master of the sloop had satisfied himself as to the contents of the casks, which he did by taking about half a tumbler of each, newton proposed that the trunk should be opened. "yes," replied thompson, who had drawn off a mug of the spirits, with which he was about to descend to the cabin, "open if you like, my boy. you have made a _bon prize_ to-day, and your share shall be the trunk; so you may keep it, and the things that are stowed away in it, for your trouble; but don't forget to secure the casks till we can stow them away below. we can't break bulk now; but the sooner they are down the better; or we shall have some quill-driving rascal on board, with his _flotsam_ and _jetsam_, for the _lord knows who_;" and thompson, to use his own expression, went down again "to lay his soul in soak." reader, do you know the meaning of _flotsam_ and _jetsam_? none but a lawyer can, for it is old law language. now, there is a slight difference between language in general and law language. the first was invented to enable us to explain our own meaning, and comprehend the ideas of others; whereas the second was invented with the view that we should not be able to understand a word about it. in former times, when all law, except _club_ law, was in its infancy, and practitioners not so erudite, or so thriving as at present, it was thought advisable to render it unintelligible by inventing a sort of _lingo_, compounded of bad french, grafted upon worse latin, forming a mongrel and incomprehensible race of words, with french heads and latin tails, which answered the purpose intended--that of mystification.--_flotsam_ and _jetsam_ are of this breed. _flot_, derived from the french _flottant_, floating; and _jet_ from the verb _jeter_, to _throw up_; both used in seignoral rights, granted by kings to favourites, empowering them to take possession of the property of any man who might happen to be unfortunate, which was in those times tantamount to being guilty. i daresay, if one could see the deed thus empowering them to confiscate the goods and chattels of others for their own use, according to the wording of the learned clerks in those days, it would run thus:--"omnium quod flotsam et jetsam, et everything else-um, quod findetes;" in plain english, "everything floating or thrown up, and everything else you may pick up." now, the admiral of the coast had this piratical privilege: and as, in former days, sextants and chronometers were unknown, seafaring men incurred more risk than they do at present, and the wrecks which strewed the coast were of very great value. i had a proof the other day that this right is still exacted; that is, as far as regards property _unclaimed_. i had arrived at plymouth from the western islands. when we hove up our anchor at st michael's, we found another anchor and cable hooked most lovingly to our own, to the great joy of the first lieutenant, who proposed buying silk handkerchiefs for every man in the ship, and expending the residue in paint. but we had not been at anchor in plymouth sound more than twenty-four hours, and he hardly had time to communicate with the gentlemen-dealers in marine stores, when i received a notification from some lynx-eyed agent of the present admiral of the coast (who is a lawyer, i believe), requesting the immediate delivery of the anchor and cable, upon the plea of his seignoral rights of _flotsam_ and _jetsam._ now, the idea was as preposterous as the demand was impudent. we had picked up the anchor in the roadside of a _foreign power,_ about fifteen hundred miles distant from the english coast. we are all lawyers, _now,_ on board ship; so i gave him one of my legal answers, "that, in the first place, _flotsam_ meant floating, and anchors did not float; in the second place, that _jetsam_ meant thrown up, and anchors never were thrown up; in the third and last place, _i'd see him d--d first!"_ my arguments were unanswerable. counsel for the plaintiff (i presume) threw up his brief, for we heard no more of _"mr flotsam and jetsam."_ but to proceed:--the man and boy, who, with newton, composed the whole crew, seemed perfectly to acquiesce in the distribution made by the master of the sloop; taking it for granted that their silence, as to the liquor being on board, would be purchased by a share of it, as long as it lasted. they repaired forward with a pannikin from the cask, with which they regaled themselves, while newton stood at the helm. in half an hour newton called the boy aft to steer the vessel, and lifted the trunk into the cabin below, where he found that thompson had finished the major part of the contents of the mug, and was lying in a state of drunken stupefaction. the hasp of the lock was soon removed by a clawhammer, and the contents of the trunk exposed to newton's view. they consisted chiefly of female wearing apparel and child's linen; but, with these articles, there was a large packet of letters addressed to madame louise de montmorenci, the contents of which were a mystery to newton, who did not understand french. there were also a red morocco case, containing a few diamond ornaments, and three or four crosses of different orders of knighthood. all the wearing-apparel of the lady was marked with the initials l.m., while those appertaining to the infant were marked with the letters j.f. after a careful examination, newton spread out the clothes to dry, over the cabin lockers and table; and depositing the articles of value in a safe place, he returned on deck. although thompson had presented him with the trunk and its contents, he felt that they could not be considered as his property, and he determined to replace everything, and, upon his return, consult his father as to the proper measures which should be taken to discover who were the lawful owners. the sloop, under the direction of newton, had continued her course for two days against the adverse, yet light breeze, when the weather changed. the wind still held to the same quarter: but the sky became loaded with clouds, and the sun set with a dull red glare, which prognosticated a gale from the n.w.; and before morning the vessel was pitching through a short chopping sea. by noon the gale was at its height; and newton, perceiving that the sloop did not "hold her own," went down to rouse the master, to inquire what steps should be taken, as he considered it advisable to bear up; and the only port under their lee for many miles was one with the navigation of which he was himself unacquainted. the vessel was under close-reefed mainsail and storm foresail, almost buried in the heavy sea, which washed over the deck from forward to the companion hatch, when newton went down to rouse the besotted thompson, who, having slept through the night without having had recourse to additional stimulus, was more easy to awaken than before. "eh! what?--blows hard--whew!--so it does. how's the wind?" said the master, throwing his feet outside the standing bedplace, as he sat up. "n.w., veering to n.n.w. in the squalls. we have lost good ten miles since yesterday evening, and are close to dudden sands," replied newton. "i think we must bear up, for the gale shows no signs of breaking." "well, i'll be on deck in a moment, my boy," rejoined thompson, who was now quite himself again, and was busy putting on his shoes, the only articles which had been removed when he turned in. "go you up, and see that they keep her clean, full and bye--and those casks well secured.--dudden sands--awkward place, too--but i've not been forty years a-boxing about this coast for nothing." in a minute thompson made his appearance on deck, and steadying himself by the weather topmast backstay, fixed his leaden eyes upon the land on the quarter.--"all right, younker, that's the head, sure enough;" then turning his face to the wind, which lifted up his grey curling locks, and bore them out horizontally from his fur cap, "and it's a devil of a gale, sure enough.--it may last a month of sundays for all i know.--up with the helm, tom.--ease off the main sheet, handsomely, my lad--not too much. now, take in the slack, afore she jibes;" and the master ducked under the main boom and took his station on the other side of the deck. "steady as you go now.--newton, take the helm.--d'ye see that bluff?--keep her right for it. tom, you and the boy rouse the cable up--get about ten fathoms on deck, and bend it.--you'll find a bit of seizing and a marling-spike in the locker abaft." the sloop scuddled before the gale, and in less than two hours was close to the headland pointed out by the master. "now, newton, we must hug the point or we shall not fetch--clap on the main sheet here, all of us. luff, you may, handsomely.--that's all right; we are past the sand-head and shall be in smooth water in a jiffy.--steady, so-o.--now for a drop of _swizzle,"_ cried thompson, who considered that he had kept sober quite long enough, and proceeded to the cask of rum lashed to leeward. as he knelt down to pull out the spile, the sloop which had been brought to the wind, was struck on her broadside by a heavy sea, which careened her to her gunnel: the lashings of the weather cask gave way, and it flew across the deck, jamming the unfortunate thompson, who knelt against the one to leeward, and then bounding overboard. the old man gave a heavy groan, and fell upon his back; the man and boy ran to his assistance, and by the directions of newton, who could not quit the helm, carried him below, and placed him on his bed. in a few minutes the sloop was safe at anchor, in smooth water, and newton ran down into the cabin. thompson's head had been crushed against the chime of the cask; for an hour or two he breathed heavily; and then--he was no more! chapter vi "the indian weed, unknown to ancient times, nature's choice gift, whose acrimonious fume extracts superfluous juices, and refines the blood distemper'd from its noxious salts; friend to the spirits, which with vapours bland it gently mitigates--companion fit of _'a good pot of porter.'_" phillips. "there a pot of good double beer, neighbour. drink--" shakespeare. the next day the remains of old thompson were carried on shore in the long-boat, and buried in the churchyard of the small fishing town that was within a mile of the port where the sloop had anchored. newton shipped another man, and when the gale was over, continued his voyage; which was accomplished without further adventure. finding no cargo ready for him, and anxious to deliver up the vessel to the owner, who resided at overton, he returned in ballast, and communicated the intelligence of thompson's death; which, in so small a town, was long the theme of conversation, and the food of gossips. newton consulted with his father relative to the disposal of the trunk; but nicholas could assist him but little with his advice. after many _pros_ and _cons,_ like all other difficult matters, it was postponed.--"really, newton, i can't say. the property certainly is not yours, but still we are not likely to find out the lawful owner. bring the trunk on shore; we'll nail it up, and perhaps we may hear something about it by-and-bye. we'll make some inquiries--by-and-bye--when your mother--" "i think," interrupted newton, "it would not be advisable to acquaint my mother with the circumstance; but how to satisfy her curiosity on that point, i must leave to you." "to me, boy! no; i think that you had better manage that, for you know you are only _occasionally_ at home." "well, father, be it so," replied newton, laughing: "but here comes mr dragwell and mr hilton, to consult with us what ought to be done relative to the effects of poor old thompson. he has neither kith nor kin, to the ninety-ninth degree, that we can find out." mr dragwell was the curate of the parish; a little fat man with bow-legs, who always sat upon the edge of the chair, leaning against the back, and twiddling his thumbs before him. he was facetious and good-tempered, but was very dilatory in everything. his greatest peculiarity was, that although he had a hearty laugh for every joke, he did not take the jokes of others at the time that they were made. his ideas seemed to have the slow and silent flow ascribed to the stream of lava (without its fire): and the consequence was, that although he eventually laughed at a good thing, it was never at the same time with other people; but in about a quarter or half a minute afterwards (according to the difficulty of the analysis), when the cause had been dismissed for other topics, he would burst out in a hearty ha, ha, ha! mr hilton was the owner of the sloop: he was a tall, corpulent man, who for many years had charge of a similar vessel, until by "doing a little contraband," he had pocketed a sufficient sum to enable him to purchase one for himself. but the profits being more than sufficient for his wants, he had for some time remained on shore, old thompson having charge of the vessel. he was a good-tempered, jolly fellow, very fond of his pipe and his pot, and much more fond of his sloop, by the employment of which he was supplied with all his comforts. he passed most of the day sitting at the door of his house, which looked upon the anchorage, exchanging a few words with everyone that passed by, but invariably upon one and the same topic--his sloop. if she was at anchor--"there she is," he would say, pointing to her with the stem of his pipe. if she was away, she had sailed on such a day;--he expected her back at such a time. it was a fair wind--it was a foul wind for his sloop. all his ideas were engrossed by this one darling object, and it was no easy task to divert him from it. i ought to have mentioned that mr dragwell, the curate, was invariably accompanied by mr spinney, the clerk of the parish, a little spare man, with a few white hairs straggling on each side of a bald pate. he always took his tune, whether in or out of church, from his superior, ejecting a small treble "he, he, he!" in response to the loud ha, ha, ha! of the curate. "peace be unto this house!" observed the curate as he crossed the threshold, for mrs forster's character was notorious; then laughing at his own wit with a ha, ha, ha! "he, he, he!" "good morning, mr forster, how is your good lady?" "she's safe moored at last," interrupted mr hilton. "who?" demanded the curate, with surprise. "why the sloop, to be sure." "oh! i thought you meant the lady--ha, ha, ha!" "he, he, he!" "won't you sit down, gentlemen?" said nicholas, showing the way from the shop into the parlour, where they found mrs forster, who had just come in from the back premises. "hope you're well, mr curate," sharply observed the lady, who could not be persuaded, even from respect for the cloth, to be commonly civil--"take a chair; it's all covered with dust; but that betsy is such an idle slut!" "newton handles her as well as any man going," observed hilton. "newton!" screamed the lady, turning to her son, with an angry inquiring look--"newton handles betsy!" continued she, turning round to hilton. "betsy! no; the sloop i meant, ma'am." newton burst out into a laugh, in which he was joined by hilton and his father. "sad business--sad indeed!" said hilton, after the merriment had subsided, "such an awful death!" "ha, ha, ha!" roared the curate, who had but just then taken the joke about betsy. "he, he, he!" "nothing to laugh at, that i can see," observed mrs forster, snappishly. "capital joke, ma'am, i assure you!" rejoined the curate. "but, mr forster, we had better proceed to business. spinney, where are the papers?" the clerk produced an inventory of the effects of the late mr thompson, and laid them on the table.--"melancholy thing, this, ma'am," continued the curate, "very melancholy indeed! but we must all die." "yes, thank heaven!" muttered nicholas, in an absent manner. "thank heaven, mr forster!" cried the lady,--"why, do you wish to die?" "i was not exactly thinking about myself, my dear," replied nicholas--"i--" "depend upon it she'll last a long while yet," interrupted mr hilton. "do you think so?" replied nicholas, mournfully. "oh! sure of it; i stripped her the other day, and examined her all over; she's as sound as ever." nicholas started, and stared hilton in the face; while newton, who perceived their separate train of thought, tittered with delight. "what are you talking of?" at last observed nicholas. "of the sloop, to be sure," replied hilton. "i rather imagine that you came to consult about mr thompson's effects," observed mrs forster, angrily--"rather a solemn subject, instead of--" "ha, ha, ha!" ejaculated the curate, who had just _taken_ the equivoque which had occasioned newton's mirth. "he, he, he!" this last merriment of mr dragwell appeared to the lady to be such a pointed insult to her, that she bounded out of the room, exclaiming, "that an alehouse would have been a more suitable _rendezvous."_ the curate twiddled his thumbs, as the eyes of all the party followed the exit of mrs forster; and there were a few moments of silence. "don't you find her a pleasant little craft, forster?" said hilton, addressing newton. nicholas forster, who was in a brown study about his wife, shook his head without lifting up his eyes, while newton nodded assent. "plenty of accommodation in her," continued hilton.--another negative shake from nicholas, and assentient nod from newton. "if i thought you could manage her, forster," continued hilton--"tell me, what do you think yourself?" "oh, quite impossible!" replied nicholas. "quite impossible, mr forster! well, now, i've a better opinion of newton--i think he _can."_ "why, yes," replied nicholas! "certainly better than i can; but still she's--" "she's a beauty, mr forster." "mrs forster a beauty!" cried nicholas, looking at hilton with astonishment. newton and hilton burst into a laugh. "no, no," said the latter, "i was talking about the sloop; but we had better proceed to business. suppose we have pipes, mr forster; mr dragwell, what do you say?" "ha, ha, ha!" roared the curate, who had just taken the last joke. "he, he, he!" "why, yes," continued the curate, "i think it is a most excellent proposition; this melancholy affair requires a great deal of consideration. i never compose so well as i do with a pipe in my mouth: mrs dragwell says that she knows all my best sermons by the smell of them; d'ye take?--ha, ha, ha!" "he, he, he!" the pipes, with the addition of a couple of pots of porter, were soon procured from the neighbouring alehouse; and while the parties are filling them, and pushing the paper of tobacco from one to the other, i shall digress, notwithstanding the contrary opinion of the other sex, in praise of this most potent and delightful weed. i love thee, whether thou appearest in the shape of a cigar, or diest away in sweet perfume enshrined in the meerschaum bowl; i love thee with more than woman's love! thou art a companion to me in solitude. i can talk and reason with thee, avoiding loud and obstreperous argument. thou art a friend to me when in trouble, for thou advisest in silence, and consolest with thy calm influence over the perturbed spirit. i know not how thy power has been bestowed upon thee; yet, if to harmonise the feelings, to allow the thoughts to spring without control, rising like the white vapour from the cottage hearth, on a morning that is sunny and serene;--if to impart that sober sadness over the spirit, which inclines us to forgive our enemy, that calm philosophy which reconciles us to the ingratitude and knavery of the world, that heavenly contemplation whispering to us, as we look around, that "all is good;"--if these be merits, they are thine, most potent weed. what a quiet world this would be if everyone would smoke! i suspect that the reason why the fairer sex decry thee is, that thou art the cause of silence. the ancients knew thee not, or the lips of harpocrates would have been closed with a cigar, and his forefinger removed from the mouth unto the temple. half an hour was passed without any observation from our party, as the room gradually filled with the volumes of smoke, which wreathed and curled in graceful lines, as they ascended in obedience to the unchangeable laws of nature. hilton's pipe was first exhausted; he shook the ashes on the table. "a very melancholy business, indeed!" observed he, as he refilled. the rest nodded a grand assent; the pipe was relighted; and all was silent as before. another pipe is empty. "looking at this inventory," said the curate, "i should imagine the articles to be of no great value. one fur cap, one round hat, one pair of plush breeches, one--; they are not worth a couple of pounds altogether," continued he, stuffing the tobacco into his pipe, which he relighted, and no more was said. nicholas was the third in, or rather _out._ "it appears to me," observed he;--but what appeared is lost, as some new idea flitted across his imagination, and he commenced his second pipe without further remark. some ten minutes after this, mr spinney handed the pot of porter to the curate, and subsequently to the rest of the party. they all took largely, then puffed away as before. how long this cabinet-council might have continued, it is impossible to say; but "silence," who was in "the chair," was soon afterwards driven from his post of honour by the most implacable of his enemies, a "woman's tongue." "well, mr forster! well, gentlemen! do you mean to poison me? have you made smell and dirt enough? how long is this to last, i should like to know?" cried mrs forster, entering the room. "i tell you what, mr forster, you had better hang up a sign at once, and keep an ale-house. let the sign be a fool's head, like your own. i wonder you are not ashamed of yourself, mr curate; you that ought to set an example to your parishioners!" but mr dragwell did not admire such remonstrance; so taking his pipe out of his mouth, he retorted--"if your husband does put up a sign, i recommend him to stick you up as the 'good woman;' that would be without your head--ha, ha, ha!" "he, he, he!" "he, he, he! you pitiful 'natomy," cried mrs forster, in a rage, turning to the clerk, as she dared not revenge herself upon the curate. "take that for your he, he, he!" and she swung round the empty pewter pot, which she snatched from the table, upon the bald pericranium of mr spinney, who tumbled off his chair, and rolled upon the sanded floor. the remainder of the party were on their legs in an instant. newton jerked the weapon out of his mother's hands, and threw it in a corner of the room. nicholas was aghast; he surmised that his turn would come next; and so it proved--"an't you ashamed of yourself, mr forster, to see me treated in this way--bringing a parcel of drunken men into the house to insult me? will you order them out, or not, sir?--are we to have quiet or not?" "yes, my love," replied nicholas, confused, "yes, my dear, by-and-bye as soon as you're--" mrs forster darted towards her husband with the ferocity of a mad cat. hilton, perceiving the danger of his host, put out his leg so as to trip her up in her career, and she fell flat upon her face on the floor. the violence of the fall was so great, that she was stunned. newton raised her up; and, with the assistance of his father (who approached with as much reluctance as a horse spurred towards a dead tiger), carried her upstairs, and laid her on her bed. poor mr spinney was now raised from the floor. he still remained stupefied with the blow, although gradually recovering. betsy came in to render assistance. "o dear, mr curate, do you think that he'll die?" "no, no; bring some water, betsy, and throw it in his face." "better take him home as he is," replied betsy, "and say that he is killed; when missis hears it, she'll be frightened out of her life. it will keep her quiet for some time at least." "an excellent idea, betty; we will punish her for her conduct," replied hilton. the curate was delighted at the plan. mr spinney was placed in an arm-chair, covered over with a table-cloth, and carried away to the parsonage by two men, who were provided by betsy before nicholas or newton had quitted the room where mrs forster lay in a deplorable condition; her sharp nose broken, and twisted on one side; her eyebrow cut open to the bone, and a violent contusion on her forehead. in less than half-an-hour it was spread through the whole town that spinney had been murdered by mrs forster, and that his brains were bespattered all over the shop windows! chapter vii "that she is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true, 'tis pity; and pity 'tis, 'tis true: a foolish figure; but farewell it, for i will use no art. mad let us grant her then; and now remains that we find out the cause of this effect, or rather say, the cause of this defect." shakespeare. mr dragwell has already made honourable mention of his wife; it will therefore only be necessary to add that he had one daughter, a handsome lively girl, engaged to a mr ramsden, the new surgeon of the place, who had stepped into the shoes and the _good-will_ of one who had retired from forty years' practice upon the good people of overton. fanny dragwell had many good qualities, and many others which were rather doubtful. one of the latter had procured her more enemies than at her age she had any right to expect. it was what the french term "malice," which bears a very different signification from the same word in our own language. she delighted in all practical jokes, and would carry them to an excess, at the very idea of which others would be startled; but it must be acknowledged that she generally selected as her victims those who from their conduct towards others richly deserved retaliation. the various tricks which she had played upon certain cross old spinsters, tattlers, scandal-mongers, and backbiters, often were the theme of conversation and of mirth: but this description of _espièglerie_ contains a most serious objection; which is, that to carry on a successful and well-arranged plot, there must be a total disregard of truth. latterly, miss fanny had had no one to practise upon except mr ramsden, during the period of his courtship--a period at which women never appear to so much advantage, nor men appear so silly. but even for this, the time was past, as latterly she had become so much attached to him that distress on his part was a source of annoyance to herself. when, therefore, her father came home, narrating the circumstances which had occurred, and the plan which had been meditated, fanny entered gaily into the scheme. mrs forster had long been her abhorrence; and an insult to mr ramsden, who had latterly been designated by mrs forster as a "pill-gilding puppy," was not to be forgotten. her active and inventive mind immediately conceived a plan which would enable her to carry the joke much further than the original projectors had intended. ramsden, who had been summoned to attend poor mr spinney, was her sole confidant, and readily entered into a scheme which was pleasing to his mistress, and promised revenge for the treatment he had received; and which, as miss dragwell declared, would be nothing but retributive justice upon mrs forster. late in the evening, a message was received from newton forster, requesting that mr ramsden would attend his mother. he had just visited the old clerk, who was now sensible, and had nothing to complain of except a deep cut on his temple from the rim of the pewter-pot. after receiving a few parting injunctions from miss dragwell, mr ramsden quitted the parsonage. "i am afraid it's a very bad business, mr forster," replied the surgeon to newton, who had been interrogating him relative to the injury received by mr spinney. "evident concussion of the brain; he may live--or he may not; a few days will decide the point: he is a poor feeble old man." newton sighed as he reflected upon the disaster and disgrace which might ensue from his mother's violence of temper. "eh! what, mr ramsden?" said nicholas, who had been for some time contemplating the battered visage of his spouse. "did you say she'll die?" "no, no, mr forster, there's no fear of mrs forster, she'll do well enough. she'll be up and about again in a day or two, as lively as ever." "god forbid!" muttered the absent nicholas. "mr forster, see if i don't pay you off for that, as soon as i'm up again," muttered the recumbent lady, as well as the bandages passed under her chin would permit her. "pray call early to-morrow, mr ramsden, and let us know how mr spinney is going on," said newton, extending his hand as the surgeon rose to depart. mr ramsden shook it warmly, and quitted the house: he had left them about half-an-hour when betsy made her appearance with some fomentations, which had been prepared in the kitchen. out of revenge for sundry blows daily received, and sundry epithets hourly bestowed upon her by her mistress, the moment she entered she exclaimed, in a half-crying tone, "o dear, mr newton! there's such shocking news just come from the parsonage; mr spinney is just dead, and my missis will be hanged!" mrs forster said not a word; she quailed under dread of the report being correct. newton and his father looked at each other; their mute anguish was expressed by covering up their faces with their hands. when hilton and the curate arranged their plans for the mortification of mrs forster, it was considered advisable that newton (who was not so easily to be imposed upon) should be removed out of the way. hilton had already stated his intention to give him charge of the vessel; and he now proposed sending him for a cargo of shingle, which was lying ready for her, about fifty miles down the coast, and which was to be delivered at waterford. at an early hour, on the ensuing morning, he called at forster's house. newton, who had not taken off his clothes, came out to meet him. "well, newton, how is your mother?" said hilton, "i hope you are not angry with me: i certainly was the occasion of the accident, but i could not bear to see your worthy father treated in that manner." "i blush to acknowledge, mr hilton, that she deserved it all," replied newton; "but i am very much alarmed about the condition of mr spinney. have you heard this morning?" "no; but between ourselves, newton, doctors always make the worst of their cases. i never heard of a pewter-pot killing a man; he'll do well enough, never fear. i came to tell you that i've a letter last night from repton, who says that the shingle must be delivered before the tenth of next month, or the contract will be void. he desires that i will send the sloop directly, or he must employ another craft. now, i think you had better start at once; there's a nice fair wind for you, and you'll be down afore night." "why, really, mr hilton, i do not exactly like to leave home just now," replied newton, thoughtfully. "well, as you please, mr forster," rejoined hilton, with apparent displeasure. "i have offered you the command of the vessel, and now you object to serve my interests on the very first occasion, merely because there are a couple of broken heads!" "i am wrong, most certainly," replied newton; "i beg your pardon--i will just speak a word or two to my father, and be on board in less than half an hour." "i will meet you there," said hilton, "and bring your papers. be as quick as you can, or you'll lose the first of the tide." newton returned to the house; his father made no objection to his departure; and, in fulfilment of his promise, newton was ready to start, when he encountered ramsden at the door. "mr ramsden," said newton, "i am requested by the owner of my vessel to sail immediately; but if you think that the life of mr spinney is seriously in danger, i will throw up the command of the vessel, rather than leave my mother under such an accumulation of disasters. i beg as a favour that you will not disguise the truth." "you may sail this minute, if you please, mr forster; i am happy to be able to relieve your mind. mr spinney is doing very well, and you'll see him at his desk on the first sunday of your return." "then i am off: good-bye, mr ramsden; many thanks." with a lightened heart, newton leapt into the skiff which was to carry him on board of the sloop; and in less than half an hour was standing away to the southward before a fine wind, to execute the orders which he had received. ramsden remained a few minutes at the door, until he saw newton ascend the side of the vessel; then he entered, and was received by betsy. "well, betsy, you agreed to make mrs forster believe that mr spinney was dead; but we little thought that such would really be the case." "lord love you, sir! why, you don't say so?" "i do, indeed, betsy; but mind, we must keep it a secret for the present, until we can get mrs forster out of the way. how is she this morning?" "oh, very stiff, and very cross, sir." "i'll go up to her," replied ramsden; "but recollect, betsy, that you do not mention it to a soul;" and ramsden ascended the stairs. "well, mrs forster, how do you feel this morning? do you think you could get up?" "get up, mr ramsden! not to save my soul--i can't even turn on my side." "very sorry to hear it, indeed," replied the surgeon; "i was in hopes that you might have been able to bear a journey." "bear a journey, mr ramsden! why bear a journey?" "i am sorry to inform you that mr spinney's gone--poor old man! there must be a coroner's inquest. now, it would be as well if you were not to be found, for the verdict will be 'wilful murder.'" "o dear! o dear!" exclaimed mrs forster, jumping out of her bed with fright, and wringing her hands: "what can i do?--what can i do?" "at present it is a secret, mrs forster, but it cannot be so long. miss dragwell, who feels for you very much, begged me not to say a word about it. she will call and consult with you, if you would like to see her. sad thing indeed, mrs forster, to be placed in such a situation by a foolish husband." "you may well say that, mr ramsden," replied the lady, with asperity; "he is the greatest _fool_ that ever god made! everyone knows what a sweet temper i was before i married; but flesh and blood cannot bear what i am subjected to." "would you like to see miss dragwell?" "yes, very much; i always thought her a very nice girl;--a little wild--a little forward indeed, and apt to be impertinent; but still, rather a nice girl." "well, then, i will tell her to call, and the sooner the better, for when it is known, the whole town will be in an uproar. i should not be surprised if they attacked the house--the people will be so indignant." "i don't wonder at it," replied mrs forster; "nothing can excuse such provocation as i receive from my husband, stupid wretch!" "good morning, mrs forster; do you think, then, that you could bear moving?" "o yes! o yes! but where am i to go?" "that i really cannot form an idea of--you had better consult with miss dragwell. depend upon it, mrs forster, that i will be most happy to render you all my assistance in this unfortunate dilemma." "you're very good," snarled mrs forster: and ramsden quitted the room. i have one or two acquaintances, to whom, if i wish a report to be circulated, i immediately impart the substance as a most profound secret; and i find that by these means it obtains a much more extensive circulation than if i sent it to the newspapers. ramsden was aware of betsy's cackling propensities; and long before he quitted mrs forster, it was generally believed throughout the good town of overton that mr spinney, although he had not been killed outright, as reported in the first instance, had subsequently died of the injuries received from this modern xantippe. mrs forster had half an hour to reflect upon her supposed awkward situation; and to drive away thought, had sent for nicholas, whom she loaded with the bitterest invectives, when miss dragwell was announced. "see, sir," continued mrs forster, "the condition to which you have reduced a fond and faithful wife--one that has so studied your interests; one--" "yes, indeed," added miss dragwell, who heard the attack as she ascended the stairs, and took up the cause of mrs forster to obtain her confidence--"yes, indeed, mr forster, see the consequences of your folly, your smoking, and your drinking. pray leave the room, sir; i wonder how mrs forster can bear the sight of you!" nicholas stated, and was about to throw in a detached word or two, by way of vindication, when a furious "begone!" from his wife occasioned a precipitate retreat. "we have all been consulting about this sad business, my dear mrs forster," commenced miss dragwell; "and after much consideration have hit upon the only plan by which you may escape the penalty of the law. yes, my dear ma'am," continued miss dragwell, in the most bland and affectionate voice, "it is unwise to conceal the truth from you; the depositions of my father and mr hilton, when they are called upon, will be such that 'wilful murder' must be returned, and you--(the young lady faltered, and put up her handkerchief)--you must inevitably be hanged!" "hanged!" screamed mrs forster. "yes, hanged--'hanged by the neck until you are dead! and the lord have mercy upon your soul! 'that will be your sentence," replied the young lady, sobbing;--"such an awful, such a disgraceful death for a woman too!" "o lord, o lord!" cried mrs forster, who was now really frightened. "what will become of me?" "you will go to another and a better world, as my papa says in his sermons; i believe that the pain is not very great--but the disgrace--" mrs forster burst into tears. "save me! save me, miss dragwell!--oh! oh! that stupid nicholas, oh! oh!" "my dear mrs forster, we have all agreed at the parsonage that there is but one method." "name it, my dear miss dragwell, name it!" cried mrs forster, imploringly. "you must pretend to be mad, and then there will be a verdict of insanity; but you must carry it through everything, or it will be thought you are shamming. mr ramsden is acquainted with dr b--, who has charge of the asylum at d--. it is only nine miles off: he will take you there, and when the coroner's inquest is over you can return. it will be supposed then to have been only temporary derangement. do you like the proposal?" "why, i have been mad for a long time," replied mrs forster; "the conduct of my husband and my son has been too much for my nerves; but i don't like the idea of actually going to a madhouse. could not--" "o dear, marm!" cried betsy, running into the room, "there's a whole posse of people about the house; they want to take you to the town jail, for murdering mr spinney. what shall i say to them? i'm feared they'll break in." "go and tell them that mrs forster is too ill to be taken out of bed, and that she is out of her senses--d'ye hear, betsy, tell them all she is _stark staring mad_!" "yes, i will, marm," replied betsy, wiping her eyes as she left the room. miss dragwell walked to the window. although the report spread by betsy had collected a crowd opposite the house, still there was no attempt at violence. "i'm afraid that it's too late," said the young lady, turning from the window. "what a crowd! and how angry they seem to be! you must be hanged now!" "o no! i'll be mad--i'll be anything, my dear miss dragwell." "well, then, we must be quick--don't put your gown on--petticoats are better--i'll dress you up." miss dragwell rummaged the drawers, and collecting a variety of feathers and coloured ribbons, pinned them over the bandages which encircled mrs forster's head; then pulling out a long-tailed black coat of her husband's which had been condemned, forced her arms through it, and buttoned it in front. "that will do for the present," cried miss dragwell; "now here's the cat, take it in your arms, go to the window, and nurse it like a baby. i'll throw it open--you come forward and make them a curtsey; that will spread the report through the town that you are mad, and the rest will then be easy." "oh! i can't--i can't go to the window, i can't, indeed." "i'll open the window and speak to the people," said miss dragwell; and she threw up the sash, informing the gaping multitude that mrs forster was quite out of her senses, but perfectly harmless. "perfectly harmless, after killing a man!" observed one of the party below. "they won't believe me, mrs forster; come, you must, or you will certainly be _hanged_." urged by her fears, mrs forster approached the window, and showed herself to the astonished crowd. "curtsey to them," said miss dragwell, holding her handkerchief before her mouth. mrs forster curtsied. "smile upon them," continued the malicious young lady. mrs forster grinned horribly. "now dance your cat." mrs forster obeyed the injunction. "now give a loud shriek, and toss the cat out of window." mrs forster uttered a hideous yell, and threw the animal at the heads of the spectators, who retreated with alarm in every direction. "now burst into a fit of laughter, curtsey to them, and wave your hand, and that will be sufficient." mrs forster obeyed the last order, and miss dragwell shut the window. in a few minutes the report spread that mrs forster had gone out of her senses; and the murder of mr spinney--a topic which was nearly exhausted--was dismissed for the time to dwell and comment upon the second catastrophe. chapter viii "mad as the sea and wind, when both contend which is the mightier." shakespeare. "so far we have succeeded, my dear mrs forster," said miss dragwell; "i will now return home, and come back as soon as i can with the post-chaise. mr ramsden's servant shall come with me to conduct you to the asylum, and i trust in a quarter of an hour to see you clear of these foolish people of overton, who think that you are the party in fault: you had better remain in your room, and not appear again at the window; the crowd will disperse when they are tired of watching: good-bye, my dear mrs forster, good-bye." mrs forster was in too sulky a humour to vouchsafe an answer; and miss dragwell quitted the house. betsy had taken advantage of the turmoil and the supposed lunacy of her mistress to gossip in the neighbourhood. nicholas forster was in the shop, but took no notice of miss dragwell as she passed through. he appeared to have forgotten all that had occurred, and was very busy filing at his bench. there we must leave him, and follow the motions of the mischief-loving miss dragwell. upon her return, the party collected at the parsonage considered that they had proceeded far enough; but miss dragwell thought otherwise; she had made up her mind that mrs forster should pass a day or two in the lunatic asylum; and she felt assured that mr ramsden, through whose assistance her intention must be accomplished, would not venture to dispute her wishes. her father, with a loud ha, ha, ha! proposed that mr spinney should appear as a ghost by the bedside of mrs forster, wrapped up in a sheet, with a he, he, he! and that thus the diversion should end; but this project was overruled by mr spinney, who protested that nothing should induce him again to trust himself, with a he, he, he! in the presence of mrs forster. ramsden, although well acquainted with dr beddington, who had charge of the asylum, was not sure that he would be pleased with their freak, and earnestly dissuaded his intended from proceeding any further. "it is useless to argue, my dear george, i am quixote enough to revenge the injuries of those who have been forced to submit to her temper; and moreover, i hope to effect a cure. desperate diseases, you must be aware as a medical man, require desperate remedies. i consider that a termagant and a lunatic are during their paroxysms on a par, as rational behaviour in either party may be considered as a lucid interval. let her, if it be only for one hour, witness herself reflected in the various distorted mirrors of perverted mind; and if she has any conscience whatever, good will spring from evil. i joined this plot from a love of mischief; but i carry it on from a feeling that favourable results will be produced." "but, my dear fanny--" "i will have it so, ramsden, so don't attempt to dissuade me; we are not married yet, and i must not be thwarted in my short supremacy. surely you ought not to be displeased at my desire to 'tame a shrew.' i give a fair promise not to fall into an error which i so ardently detest: now, send for the chaise, write a letter to dr beddington, and leave me to arrange with mrs forster." ramsden, like many others when teased by a pretty woman, consented against his will; he wrote a letter to dr beddington, explaining circumstances, and requesting his pardon for the liberty which he had been persuaded to take. miss dragwell, as soon as the letter was sealed, put on her bonnet, and taking mr ramsden's servant with her, stepped into the chaise, and drove to the house of mr nicholas forster. she found mrs forster squatted on the bed in her ludicrous attire, awaiting her return with impatience. "oh! mrs forster, i have had such trouble, such difficulty; but mr ramsden has been persuaded at last. there is the letter to dr beddington, and mr ramsden's servant is in the chaise at the door: the sooner you are off the better; the people are so outrageous, and call you such shocking names." "do they?" replied mrs forster, whose wrath kindled at the information. "yes, indeed; and that wretch betsy declares that she'll put the rope over your neck with her own hands." "does she?" cried mrs forster, her eyes twinkling with rage. "yes; and your husband, your foolish husband, says that he'll be able to make his improvement in the duplex, now that you'll be hanged." "he does, does he?" replied mrs forster, catching her breath, and grinding her teeth as she jumped off the bed. "now, my dear mrs forster, it's no use minding what they say; all you have to do is to escape as soon as possible; the magistrate's warrant may arrive this minute, and then it will be too late; so come down at once:--how lucky that you have escaped! it must be a dreadful thing to be hanged!" this last remark, always brought forward by miss dragwell when she had a point to carry, induced mrs forster to hasten downstairs to the post-chaise, which she found already occupied by mr ramsden's servant. as soon as she entered, it was driven off with speed in the direction already communicated to the post-boy. we shall leave the town of overton to recover its quiet,--for such a bustle had not occurred for many years,--and miss dragwell to exult in the success of her plot, while we follow mrs forster to her new quarters. the chaise rattled on,--mr ramsden's servant crouching in a corner, as far as possible from mrs forster, evidently about as well pleased with his company as one would be in a pitfall with a tiger. at last it stopped at the door of the lunatic asylum, and the post-boy dismounting from his reeking horses, pulled violently at a large bell, which answered with a most lugubrious tolling, and struck awe into the breast of mrs forster. when the door was opened, mr ramsden's servant alighted, and went in to deliver his letter to the doctor. the doctor was not at home; he had obtained his furlough of three weeks, and was very busy with his fishing-rod some thirty miles distant; but the keepers were in attendance, and, as mr ramsden's servant stated the insanity of mrs forster, and that she had been sent there by his master, they raised no objections to her reception. in a few minutes the servant reappeared with two keepers, who handed mrs forster out of the chaise, and conducted her to a receiving-room, where mrs forster waited some minutes in expectation of the appearance of dr beddington. in the meantime, mr ramsden's servant, having no further communication to make, left the letter for dr beddington, and returned in the chaise to overton. after a quarter of an hour had elapsed, mrs forster inquired of one of the keepers who had, much to her annoyance, taken a chair close to her, whether the doctor intended to come. "he'll come by-and-bye, good woman. how do you feel yourself now?" "very cold--very cold, indeed," replied mrs forster, shivering. "that's what the poor brutes always complain of--aren't it, jim?" observed another keeper, who had just entered. "where be we to stow her?" "i sent tom to get no. ready." "why, you don't think that i'm mad!" cried mrs forster, with terror. "so, softly--so--so," said the keeper next to her, patting her, as he would soothe a fractious child. the violence of mrs forster, when she discovered that she was considered as a lunatic, fully corroborated to the keepers the assertion of mr ramsden's servant; but we must not dwell upon the scene which followed. after an ineffectual struggle, mrs forster found herself locked up in no. , and left to her own reflections. the previous scenes which had occurred, added to the treatment previous scenes which had occurred, added to the treatment which she received in the asylum, caused such excitement, that, before the next morning, she was seized with a brain fever, and raved as loudly in her delirium as any of the other unfortunate inmates there incarcerated. chapter ix "who by repentance is not satisfied, is not of heaven or earth; for these are pleased: by penitence the eternal's wrath's appeased." shakespeare. mr ramsden's servant returned to overton, stating that the doctor was not at home, but that he had left mrs forster and the letter. the time that dr beddington was to be absent had not been mentioned by the keepers; and mr ramsden, imagining that the doctor had probably gone out for the evening, made no further inquiries, as he intended, in a day or two, to call and bring mrs forster back to her own house. on the third day of her removal he set off for the asylum; and when he discovered the situation of mrs forster, he bitterly repented that he had been persuaded to a step which threatened such serious results. to remove her was impossible; to assert to the keepers that she was in sound mind, would have been to commit himself; he therefore withdrew his letter to dr beddington, who was not expected home for a fortnight, and with a heavy heart returned to overton. miss dragwell was as much shocked when she was informed of the unfortunate issue of her plot; and made a resolution, to which she adhered, never to be guilty of another practical joke. in the meantime newton forster had made every despatch, and returned to overton with the cargo of shingle a few days after his mother's incarceration. he had not been ten minutes on shore before he was made acquainted with the melancholy history of her (supposed) madness and removal to the asylum. he hastened home, where he found his father in a profound melancholy; he received newton with a flood of tears, and appeared to be quite lost in his state of widowhood. the next morning newton set off for the asylum, to ascertain the condition of his mother. he was admitted; found her stretched on a bed, in a state of delirium, raving in her fever, and unconscious of his presence. the frenzy of his mother being substantiated by what he had witnessed, and by the assurances of the keepers, to whom he made a present of half his small finances, to induce them to treat her with kindness, newton returned to overton, where he remained at home, shut up with his father. in a few days notice was given by the town-crier, that the remaining stock of mr nicholas forster, optician, was to be disposed of by public auction. the fact was, that nicholas forster, like many other husbands, although his wife had been a source of constant annoyance, had become so habituated to her, that he was miserable now that she was gone. habit is more powerful than even love; and many a married couple continue to live comfortably together long after love has departed, from this most binding of all human sensations. nicholas determined to quit overton; and newton, who perceived that his father's happiness was at stake, immediately acquiesced in his wish. when nicholas forster resolved to leave the town where he had so long resided, he had no settled plans for the future; the present idea to remove from the scene connected with such painful associations was all which occupied his thoughts. newton, who presumed that his father had some arranged plan, did not attempt to awaken him from his profound melancholy, to inquire into his intentions; and nicholas had never given the subject one moment of his thought. when all was ready, newton inquired of his father, in what manner he intended they should travel?--"why, outside the coach will be the cheapest, newton; and we have no money to spare. you had better take our places to-night." "to what place, father?" inquired newton. "i'm sure i don't know, newton," replied nicholas, as if just awoke. this answer produced a consultation; and after many _pros_ and _cons_, it was resolved that nicholas should proceed to liverpool, and settle in that town. the sloop commanded by newton was found defective in the stern port; and, as it would take some little time to repair her, newton had obtained leave for a few days to accompany his father on his journey. the trunk picked up at sea, being too cumbrous, was deposited with the articles of least value, in the charge of mr dragwell; the remainder was taken away by newton, until he could find a more secure place for their deposit. on their arrival at liverpool, with little money and no friends, nicholas rented a small shop; and newton having extended his leave of absence to the furthest, that he might contribute to his father's comfort, returned to overton, to resume the command of the sloop. the first object was to call at the asylum, where he was informed that his mother was much less violent, but in so weak a state that he could not be admitted. doctor beddington had not returned; but a medical gentleman, who had been called in during his absence, stated to newton, that he had no doubt if his mother should recover from her present state of exhaustion, that her reason would be restored. newton returned to overton with a lightened heart, and the next day sailed in the sloop for bristol. contrary winds detained him more than a fortnight on his passage. on his arrival, his cargo was not ready, and newton amused himself by walking about the town and its environs. at last his cargo was on board; and newton, who was most anxious to ascertain the fate of his mother, made all haste to obtain his clearance and other papers from the custom-house. it was late in the evening before he had settled with the house to which the sloop had been consigned; but, as the wind and tide served, and there was a bright moon, he resolved to weigh that night. with his papers carefully buttoned in his coat, he was proceeding to the boat at the jetty, when he was seized by two men, who rushed upon him from behind. he hardly had time to look round to ascertain the cause, when a blow on the head stretched him senseless on the ground. now, my readers may probably feel some little distress at the misfortune of newton, and have some slight degree of curiosity to know the grounds of this severe treatment. i, on the contrary, am never more pleased than when i find my principal character in a state of abeyance, and leave him so with the greatest indifference, because it suits my convenience. i have now an opportunity of returning to mrs forster, or any other of the parties who act a subordinate part in-my narrative; and, as newton is down on the ground, and _hors de combat_, why, there let him lie--until i want him again. doctor beddington returned home long before the recovery of mrs forster from her severe attack. as it may be presumed, he found her perfectly rational; but still he had no doubt of the assertions of his keepers, that she was insane at the time that she was sent to the asylum by mr ramsden. the latter gentleman kept aloof until the issue of mrs forster's malady should be ascertained: if she recovered, it was his intention to call upon doctor beddington and explain the circumstances; if she died, he had determined to say nothing about it. mrs forster's recovery was tedious; her mind was loaded with anxiety, and, what was infinitely more important, with deep remorse. the supposed death of mr spinney had been occasioned by her violence, and she looked forward with alarm, as great as the regret with which she looked back upon her former behaviour. when she called to mind her unfeeling conduct towards her husband,--the many years of bitterness she had created for him,--her infraction of the marriage vow--the solemn promise before god to love, honour, and obey, daily and hourly violated,--her unjust hatred of her only son,--her want of charity towards others,--all her duties neglected,--swayed only by selfish and malignant passions,--with bitter tears of contrition and self-abasement, she acknowledged that her punishment was just. with streaming eyes, with supplicating hands and bended knees, she implored mercy and forgiveness of him to whom appeal is never made in vain. passion's infuriate reign was over--her heart was changed! to doctor beddington she made neither complaint nor explanation. all she wished was to quit the asylum as soon as she was restored to health, and prove to her husband, by her future conduct, the sincerity of her reformation. when she became convalescent, by the advice of doctor beddington, she walked in a garden appropriated for the exercise of the more harmless inmates of the asylum. the first day that she went out she sat down upon a bench near to the keepers who were watching those who were permitted to take the air and exercise, and overheard their discourse, which referred to herself. "why, what was it as made her mad--d'ye know, tom?" "they say she's been no better all her life," replied the other; "a rat would not live in the house with her: at last, in one of her tantrums, she nearly murdered old spinney, the clerk at overton. the report went out that he was dead; and conscience, i suppose, or summut of that kind, run away with her senses." "oh, he warn't killed then?" "no, no: i seed him and heard him too, sunday 'fore last, when i went to call upon old father; i was obligated to go to church, the old gemman's so remarkable particular." "and what's become of her husband, and that handsome young chap, her son?" "i don't know, nor nobody else either. the old man, who was as worthy an old soul as ever breathed (more shame to the old faggot, for the life she led him!) grew very unhappy and melancholy, and would not stay in the place: they disposed of everything, and both went away together; but nobody knows where the old man is gone to." "and the young 'un?" "oh, he came back and took command of the sloop. he was here twice, to see how his mother was. poor lad! it was quite pitiful to see how unhappy he was about the old catamaran. he give me and bill a guinea apiece to be kind to her; but, about three days back, the sloop came into the harbour without him: they suppose that he fell off the jetty at bristol and was drowned, for he was seen coming down to the boat; and, a'ter that, they never heard no more about him." "well, but tom, the old woman's all right now?" "yes, she's right enough; but where be her husband, and where be her son? she'll never plague them any more, that's pretty sartain." the feelings of mrs forster at the _finale_ of this discourse are not easy to be portrayed. one heavy load was off her mind--mr spinney was not dead; but how much had she also to lament? she perceived that she had been treacherously kidnapped by those who detested her conduct, but had no right to inflict the punishment. the kind and feeling conduct of her husband and of her son,--the departure of the one, and supposed death of the other, were blows which nearly overwhelmed her. she tottered back to her cell in a state of such extreme agitation, as to occasion a return of fever, and for many days she was unable to quit her bed. chapter x "when britain first at heaven's command arose from out the azure main, this was the charter, the charter of the land, and guardian angels sung the strain,---- rule britannia, britannia rules the waves, for britons never shall be _slaves_." we left newton forster senseless on the pavement leading to the quay at bristol, floored by a rap on the head from a certain person or persons unknown: he did not, however, remain there long, being hoisted on the shoulders of two stout fellows, dressed in blue jackets and trousers, with heavy clubs in their hands, and a pistol lying _perdu_ between their waistcoats and shirts. these nautical personages tumbled him into the stern-sheets of a boat, as if not at all sorry to rid themselves of his weight; and, in a continued state of insensibility, newton was hoisted up the side of a cutter which lay at anchor about one hundred yards from the shore. when newton recovered his senses, his swimming eyes could just enable him to perceive that something flashed upon them, and in their weak state created a painful sensation. as he became more collected, he discovered that a man was holding a small candle close to them, to ascertain whether the vein which had been opened in his arm had produced the desired effect of restoring him to animation. newton tried to recollect where he was, and what had occurred; but the attempted exercise of his mental powers was too much, and again threw him into a state of stupor. at last he awoke as if from a dream of death, and looking round, found himself lying on the deck attended by a female, who bathed his forehead. "where am i?" exclaimed newton. "is it where you are, that you'd want for to know: an't ye on board of the _lively_ cutter, sure? and an't you between decks in her, and i looking a'ter ye, honey?" "and who are you?" "and who am i! then, if i'm not somebody else, i'm judy malony, the wife of the boatswain's mate, and a lawful married woman." "how did i come here?" continued newton, raising himself on his elbow. "you didn't come at all, honey, you were brought." "who brought me?" "who brought ye! it was either the gig or the jolly-boat; but i wasn't on deck at the time, so i can't upon my oath say exactly which." "then, pray can you tell me why i was brought here?" replied newton. "sure i can guess, bating you don't know already. it was to sarve your king and your country, like a brave volunteer as you are." "then i'm impressed?" "you may take your bible oath of it, my jewel, and commit no perjury. it's a hard rap that ye got, anyhow; just a hint that ye were wanted: but plase god, if ye live and do well, 'twill be nothing at all to what ye'll have by-and-bye, all for the honour and glory of ould england." newton, who during these remarks was thinking of his father's situation, and the distress he would suffer without his assistance, and then of the state in which he had left his mother, again sank on the deck. "why, he's off again!" muttered judy malony; "he's no countryman of mine, that's clear as the mud in the shannon, or he'd never fuss about a rap with a shillelah;" and judy, lifting up her petticoats first, gained her feet, and walked away forward. newton remained in a state of uneasy slumber until daylight, when he was awakened by the noise of boats coming alongside, and loud talking on deck. all that had passed did not immediately rush into his mind; but his arm tied up with the bandage, and his hair matted, and his face stiff with the coagulated blood, soon brought to his recollection the communication of judy malony, that he had been impressed. the 'tween decks of the cutter appeared deserted, unless indeed there were people in the hammocks slung over his head; and newton, anxious to obtain further information, crawled under the hammocks to the ladder, and went up on deck. about twenty sailors, well armed, were busy handing out of the boats several men whom they had brought on board, who were ordered aft by the officer in command. newton perceived that most of them had not received much better treatment than he had on the preceding evening; some were shockingly disfigured, and were still bleeding profusely. "how many have you altogether, mr vincent?" said the lieutenant to a stout master's mate with a tremendous pair of whiskers, which his loose handkerchief discovered to join together at his throat. "seventeen, sir." "and how many had we before?--twenty-six, i think." "twenty-seven, sir, with the young chap i sent on board last night." "well, that will do; it's quite as many as we can stow away, or take care of:--pass them all down below, forward; take up the ladder, and put on the grating until we are out of the harbour. as soon as the jolly-boat comes on board we'll up anchor." "she'll be off directly, sir; i ordered her to wait for johnson and merton, who did not come down with us." "do you think they have given you the slip?" "i should think not, sir. here is the jolly-boat coming off." "well, pass the men forward and secure them," replied the lieutenant. "overhaul the boat's falls, and bring to with the windlass." newton thought this a good opportunity to state that he was the master of a vessel, and, as such, protected from the impress; he therefore walked over to the lieutenant, addressing him, "i beg your pardon, sir--" "who are you?" interrupted the lieutenant, gruffly. "i was impressed last night, sir;--may i speak to you?" "no, sir, you may not." "it might save you some trouble, sir--" "it will save me more to send you down below. mr vincent, shove this man down forward; why is he at large?" "he was under the doctor's hands, i believe, sir. come this way, my hearty--stir your stumps." newton would have expostulated, but he was collared by two of the press-gang, and very unceremoniously handed forward to the hatchway; the grating was taken off, and he was lowered down to the deck below, where he found himself cooped up with more than forty others, almost suffocated for the want of air and space. the conversation (if conversation it could be called) was nothing but one continued string of curses and execrations, and vows of deep revenge. the jolly-boat returned, pulling only two oars; the remainder of her crew, with johnson and merton, having taken this opportunity of deserting from their forced servitude. with some hearty execrations upon the heads of the offending parties, and swearing that by g--d there was no such thing as _gratitude_ in a sailor, the commander of the cutter weighed his anchor, and proceeded to sea. the orders received by the lieutenant of the cutter, although not precisely specifying, still implying, that he was to bring back his cargo alive, as soon as his majesty's cutter _lively_ was fairly out at sea the hatches were taken off, and the impressed men allowed to go on deck in the proportion of about one half at a time, two sailors with drawn cutlasses still remaining sentry at the coombings of the hatchway, in case of any discontented fellow presuming to dispute such lawful authority. newton forster was happy to be once more on deck; so much had he suffered during his few hours of confinement, that he really felt grateful for the indulgence. the sky was bright, and the cutter was dashing along the coast with the wind, two points free, at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour. she was what sailors term rather _a wet one_, and as she plunged through the short waves the sea broke continually over her bows and chesstree, so that there was no occasion to draw water for purification. newton washed his face and head, and felt quite revived as he inhaled the fresh breeze, and watched the coast as the vessel rapidly passed each headland in her course. all around him were strangers, and no one appeared inclined to be communicative; even the most indifferent, the most stoical, expressed their ideas in disjointed sentences; they could not but feel that their projects and speculations had been overthrown by a captivity so anomalous with their boasted birthright. "where are we going?" inquired newton of a man who stood next him, silently watching the passing foam created by the rapid course of the vessel. "to _hell_ i hope, with _those who brought us here!_" replied the man, grinding his teeth with a scowl of deep revenge. at this moment judy malony came pattering along the wet deck with a kid of potato-peelings to throw over the bows. newton recognised her, and thanked her for her kindness. "it's a nice boy that you are, sure enough, now that you're swate and clean," replied judy. "bad luck to the rapparee who gave you the blow! i axed my husband if it was he; but he swears upon his salvation that it was no one if it wasn't tim o'connor, the baste!" "where are we going?" inquired newton. "an't we going to dinner in a minute or two?" "i mean where is the cutter bound to?" "oh! the cutter you mane! if she can only find her way, it's to plymouth, sure;--they're waiting for ye." "who is waiting for us?" "why, three fine frigates as can't go to sea without hands. you never heard of a ship sailing without hands; the poor dumb craturs can't do nothing by themselves." "do you know where the frigates are going?" "going to _say_, i lay my life on't," replied judy, who then walked forward, and broke up the conversation. the next morning the cutter ran into hamoaze, and boats were sent on board to remove the impressed men to the guard-ship. there, much to his annoyance and mortification, newton found that, with the others, he was treated as a close prisoner. the afternoon of the same day another vessel arrived from the eastward with a collection of offenders, who for a variety of crimes and misdemeanours had been sentenced to serve on board of a man-of-war. no distinction was made; all were huddled together, and treated alike, until summoned on the quarter-deck, when their names were called out for distribution to the several men-of-war. each ship having a quota of seamen and pickpockets allotted to her in due proportion, the men were ordered down into the boats; and in less than an hour newton found himself on board of a fine frigate lying in the sound, with her fore-topsail loose, as a signal of her immediate departure. chapter xi "tis roan's bold task the gen'rous strife to try, but in the hands of god is victory." iliad. newton, and the other men who had been selected for the frigate, on board of which they had been despatched (victualled the day discharged), were mustered on the quarter-deck by the first lieutenant, who asked them the questions, whether they were bred to the sea, and could take the helm and lead. having noted down their answers, he stationed them accordingly, and they were dismissed. newton would again have appealed, but on reflection thought it advisable to await the arrival of the captain. beds and blankets were not supplied that evening: the boats were hoisted up, sentries on the gangways supplied with ball-cartridges to prevent desertion, and permission granted to the impressed men to "prick for the softest plank," which they could find for their night's repose. at daylight the hands were turned up, the capstern manned, the frigate unmoored, and hove "short stay a-peak" on her anchor remaining down. the gig was sent on shore with two midshipmen, one to watch the men and prevent their desertion, while the other went up to the captain's lodgings to report her arrival, the topsails were loosed, sheeted home, and hoisted, the yards braced by, and newton to his sorrow perceived that the captain's arrival would be the signal for immediate departure. the signal-man, on the look-out with his glass, reported the gig coming off with the captain; and in obedience to the orders he had received, the first lieutenant immediately hove up, and the anchor having been "catted and fished," the frigate lay-to in the sound. as soon as the boat came alongside, and the captain had been received with the customary honours, he desired sail to be made on her as soon as the boat was hoisted up, and then descended to his cabin. in three minutes newton perceived that all chance of release for the present was over; the courses and top-gallant sails were set, and the frigate darted past the ram head at the rate of ten miles per hour. in about twenty minutes, after the messenger had been stowed away, the cables coiled in the tiers, and the ropes flemished down on deck, the captain made his appearance, and directed the first lieutenant to send aft the newly-impressed men. in few words he pointed out to them the necessity of their servitude; and concluded by recommending them to enter his majesty's service, and receive the bounty to which they would become entitled; observing, that the men who did so would raise themselves in his good opinion, and as far as he had the power, would not be forgotten by him, provided that their general good conduct merited his favour. some few accepted the terms, but the most of them positively refused. when newton was addressed, he stated to the captain that he was master of a vessel, and exempted by law from the impress. "it is easy to assert that," observed the captain; "but where are your proofs? your youth almost denies what you affirm." "there are my papers, sir, my clearance from the custom-house, and my bill of lading, which i had in my pocket, intending to sail a few minutes after the time that i was impressed." "i observe," replied the captain, examining the papers, "they appear to be all correct. what is your name?" "newton forster." "then this is your signature?" "it is, sir." "mr pittson, desire the clerk to bring up a pen and ink." the clerk made his appearance. "now, sign your name." newton obeyed, and his signature was compared with that on the bill of lading, by the captain and first lieutenant. "why did you not mention this before?" continued the captain. "i attempted several times, but was not permitted to speak." newton then stated how he had been treated when impressed, and afterwards by the officer commanding the cutter. "you certainly were exempted from the impress, if what you state is true; and i believe it so to be," replied the captain. "it is a hard case; but what can i do? here we are at sea, and likely to remain on a cruise of several months. you cannot expect to eat the bread of idleness on board of a man-of-war. you will do your duty wherever you are stationed. there is no disgrace in serving his majesty in any capacity. i tell you candidly, that although i would not have impressed you myself, i am very glad that i have you on board; i wish i had fifty more of the same sort, instead of the sweepings of the gaols, which i am obliged to mix up with prime seamen." "perhaps, sir, you will have the kindness to send me back by the first homeward-bound vessel?" "no, that i cannot do; you are on the ship's books, and the case must be referred to the admiralty on our return: that it will be my duty to attend to, upon your application; but i hope before that you will have entered into his majesty's service." "and in the meantime my poor father may starve," said newton, with a sigh, not addressing those around him, but giving utterance to his thoughts. the captain turned away, and paced the quarter-deck with the first lieutenant. at last he was overheard to say, "it's a very hard case, certainly. forster, can you navigate?" continued the captain, addressing newton. "yes, sir, i can work up a dead reckoning, and take the sun's altitude." "very well, that will do. mr pittson, you may dismiss them. are they put into messes?" "all, sir." "it's twelve o'clock, sir," said the master, touching his hat, with his quadrant in his hand. "make it so, and pipe to dinner." newton was stationed in the foretop. in a few days the awkwardness arising from the novelty of the scene, and from the superior dimensions of every variety of equipment on board of the frigate, compared to the small craft to which he had been accustomed, passed away. the order which was exacted to preserve discipline, the precision with which the time was regulated, the knowledge of the duty allotted to him, soon made him feel that no more was exacted than what could easily be performed, and that there was no hardship in serving on board of a man-of-war; the only hardship was, the manner in which he had been brought there. although he often sighed as he thought of his father and mother, he did his duty cheerfully, and was soon distinguished as a most promising young sailor. captain northfleet was a humane and good officer, and his first lieutenant followed in his steps, and equally deserved the character. before the ship's company had been six weeks together, they were in a tolerable state of discipline; and proved such to be the case, by acknowledging that they were happy. this, added to the constant excitement of chasing and capturing the vessels of the enemy, with the anticipation of prize-money, soon made most of those who had been impressed forget what had occurred, or cease to lament it as a hardship. the continual exercise of the guns was invariably followed up by a general wish that they might fall in with an enemy of equal force, to ascertain whether such constant drilling had been thrown away upon them. the _terpsichore_ received supplies of provisions and water from other ships, and for nine months continued a successful cruise. several prizes had already been captured, and sent home to england. the complement of the frigate was materially reduced by so many absentees, although some of her men had been brought out to her by other vessels, when a strange sail was discovered from the mast-head. a few hours sufficed to bring the swift _terpsichore_ alongside of the stranger, who first hoisted, and then immediately hauled down the tricoloured flag in token of submission. she proved to be a french brig, bound to the cape of good hope, with ammunition and government stores. the third lieutenant, and all the midshipmen who could navigate, were already away; and this prize proving valuable, captain northfleet resolved to send her in. the difficulty relative to a prize-master was removed by the first lieutenant, who recommended newton forster. to this suggestion the captain acceded; and newton, with five men, and two french prisoners to assist, was put on board of the _estelle_, with written instructions to repair to plymouth, and, upon his arrival there, deliver up the prize to the agent, and report himself to the admiral. captain northfleet also returned to newton the papers of his sloop, and gave him a letter to the admiral, stating the hardship of his case. at the same time that he informed him of the contents of his letter, he recommended newton to continue in the service, promising that, if he took the vessel safe into port, he would put him on the quarter-deck, as one of the mates of the frigate. newton thanked captain northfleet for his good intentions; and, requesting permission to reflect upon his proposal, took his leave, and in a few minutes was on board of the _estelle_. there was a buoyancy of spirits in newton when he once more found himself clear of the frigate. he acknowledged that he had been well treated, and that he had not been unhappy; but still it was emancipation from forced servitude. it is hard to please where there are so many masters; and petty tyranny will exist, and cause much discontent before it is discovered, even where the best discipline prevails. the imperious behaviour of the young midshipmen, who assume the same despotic sway which is exercised over themselves, as soon as their superiors are out of sight and hearing, was often extremely galling to newton forster, and it frequently required much forbearance not to retort. however in strict justice this might be warranted, discipline would not permit it, and it would have been attended with severe punishment. it was therefore with a feeling of delight that newton found himself his own master, and watched the hull and canvas of the _terpsichore_, as they gradually sank below the horizon. the _estelle_ was a fine vessel, and her cargo not being all composed of heavy materials, was sufficiently light on the water to sail well. at the time of her capture, they were, by the reckoning of the frigate, about fourteen hundred miles from the lizard. in a fortnight, therefore, with the wind at all propitious, newton hoped to set his foot upon his native land. he crowded all the sail which prudence would allow; and, with the wind upon his quarter, steered his course for england. the men sent with him in the brig consisted of two able seamen, and three of the gang which had been collected from the gaols and brought round from the eastward. captain northfleet spared the former, as it was necessary that a part of the crew should be able to steer and navigate the vessel; the latter, with the sincere hope of never seeing them again, taking it for granted that they would run away as soon as they arrived at plymouth. with the two prisoners, they were sufficient to work the vessel. during the first ten days the wind was generally in their favour; and the brig was not far off from the chops of the channel, when a low raking vessel was perceived bearing down upon them from the n.w. newton had no glass; but as she neared to within three miles, the vessel wore the appearance of a privateer schooner; but whether an enemy or not, it was impossible to decide. the _estelle_ had two small brass guns on her forecastle; and newton, to ascertain the nation to which the privateer belonged, hoisted the french ensign and fired a gun. in a minute the privateer hoisted english colours; but as she continued to bear down upon them, newton, not feeling secure, rove his studding-sail gear, and made all preparation for running before the wind, which he knew to be the brig's best point of sailing. the privateer had approached to within two miles, when roberts, one of the seamen, gave his decided opinion that she was a french vessel, pointing out the slight varieties in the rigging and build of the vessel, which would not have been apparent to anyone but a thorough-bred seamen. "we'd better up helm, and get the sail upon her. if she be french, she'll soon show herself by firing at us." newton was of the same opinion. the brig was put before the wind, and gradually all her canvas was spread. the privateer immediately shook out all her reefs, set her lofty sails, hoisted french colours, and, in a few minutes, a shot whizzed through the rigging of the _estelle_, and pitched into the water ahead of them. "i thought so," cried roberts. "it's a johnny crapeau. a starn chase is a long chase, anyhow. the brig sails well, and there aren't more than two hours daylight; so monsieur must be quick, or we'll give him the slip yet." the privateer was now within a mile of them; both vessels had "got their way;" and their respective powers of sailing were to be ascertained. in half an hour the privateer had neared to three-quarters of a mile. "i think our little guns will soon reach her," observed newton. williams, give me the helm. go forward with roberts and the men, and rouse them aft. be smart, my lads, for she has the heels of us." "come along," said roberts. "you, collins, why don't you stir?--do you wish to see the inside of a french prison?" "no," replied collins, sauntering forward, "not particularly." "only by way of a change, i suppose," observed thompson, another of the convicts. "you have been in every gaol in england, to my knowledge--haven't you, ben?" "mayhap i have," replied collins; "but one gentleman should never interfere in the consarns of another. i warn't whipped at the cart-tail, as you were, last lancaster'sizes." "no; but you had a taste of it on board of the _terpsichore_. ben, you arn't forgot that?" retorted hillson, the other of the three characters who had been sent with newton. in a few minutes the guns were run aft, and the ammunition brought on deck. newton then gave the helm to williams, and served one gun; while roberts took charge of the other. the privateer had continued to near them, and was now within their range. a smart fire was kept up on her, which she returned with her superior metal. after the firing had commenced, the approach of the privateer was in some degree checked. the guns fired from the stern of the _estelle_ assisted her velocity through the water; while, on the contrary, the privateer, being obliged to yaw from her course that her guns might bear, and firing from the bow, her impetus was checked. still the privateer had the advantage in sailing, and slowly neared the brig. "there's no need of your coming aft so close upon us," said roberts to the two frenchmen who had been sent on board; "go forward, and keep out of the way. that 'ere chap is after mischief; he had his eye upon the _amminition_," continued the sailor to newton. "go forward--d'ye hear? or i'll split your d--d french skull with the handspike." "don't touch him, roberts," said newton. "no, i won't touch him, if he keeps out of my way. do you hear?--go forward!" cried roberts to the frenchman, waving his hand. the frenchman answered with a sneer and a smile, and was turning to obey the order, when a shot from the privateer cut him nearly in two. the other frenchman, who was close to him, made a rapid descent into the cabin. "that was well meant, anyhow," observed roberts, looking at the dead body; "but it wasn't meant for him. shall i toss him overboard?" "no, no--let him lie. if they capture us, they will perceive it was their own doing." "well, then, i'll only haul him into the lee-scuppers, out of the way." another shot from the privateer passed through the cabin windows, and went forward into the hold. the french prisoner ran on deck with as much haste as before he had run below. "ay, it will be your turn next, my cock," cried roberts, who had been removing the body to the gunnel. "now, let me try my luck again," and he hastened to his gun. newton fired before roberts was ready. the topsail-sheet of the schooner was divided by the shot, and the sail flew out before the yard. "that's a good two cables' length in our favour," cried roberts. "now for me." roberts fired his gun, and was more fortunate; his shot struck away the fore-top-gallant-mast, while the royal and top-gallant sail fell before the topsail. "well done, my little piece of brass!" said roberts, slapping the gun familiarly on the breech; "only get us out of our scrape, and i'll polish you as bright as silver!" whether the gun understood him or not, or, what is more probable, the short distance between the brig and the privateer made it more effective, more mischief took place in the sails and rigging of the schooner. her topsail-sheet was, however, soon rebent, the sail reset, and her other casualties made good. she ceased firing her long gun, and at dusk had crept up to within a quarter of a mile, and commenced a heavy fire of musketry upon the brig. "this is rather warm work," observed williams at the helm, pointing to a bullet-hole through his jacket. "rather too warm," observed collins, the convict. "i don't see why we are to risk our lives for our paltry share of prize-money. i vote for hauling down the colours." "not yet," said newton, "not yet, my lads. let us try a few shots more." "try!--to be sure," rejoined roberts; "didn't i say before, that a starn chase was a long one." "that only makes the matter worse," replied collins; "for while we are to be peppered this way, i think the shorter the chase the better. however, you may do as you please, but i'm not so fond of it; so here's down below to the fore-peak!" "ben, you're a sensible chap, and gives good advice; we'll just follow you," said hillson. "birds of a feather always flock together; so, ben, i'm of your party," added thompson. the convicts then descended forward out of the fire of the musketry, while newton and roberts continued to load and fire, and williams steered the brig. the frenchman had already found his way below again, before the convicts. the schooner was within two cables' length, and the fire of the musketry was most galling; each of the english seamen had received slight wounds, when, just as it was dark, one of the shots from the brig proved more effective. the main-boom of the schooner was either cut in two, or so much injured as to oblige them to lower her mainsail. the brig now increased her distance fast, and in a few minutes they lost sight of the schooner in the darkness of the night. "huzza!" cried roberts, "didn't i tell you that a starn chase was a long one?" not a star was to be seen, the darkness was intense; and newton consulted with williams and roberts as to what was their best plan of proceeding. it was agreed to haul up for a quarter of an hour, then furl all, and allow the privateer to pass them. this was put in execution: the convicts, now that there was no more firing, coming to their assistance. the next morning the weather proved hazy, and the schooner, who had evidently crowded sail in pursuit of them, was nowhere to be seen. newton and his crew congratulated themselves upon their escape, and again shaped their course for the channel. the wind would not allow them to keep clear of ushant; and two days afterwards they made the french coast near to that island. the next morning they had a slant of wind, which enabled them to lay her head up for plymouth, and anticipated that in another twenty-four hours they would be in safety. such, however, was not their good fortune; about noon a schooner hove in sight to leeward, and it was soon ascertained to be the same vessel from which they had previously escaped. before dusk she was close to them; and newton, aware of the impossibility of resistance, hove-to, as a signal of surrender. chapter xii "misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows." shakespeare. as the reader may have before now occasionally heard comments upon the uncertainty of the moon and of the sea, and also, perhaps of human life, i shall not venture any further remarks upon the subject; for were they even new, i should never have the credit of them. this is certain, that instead of finding themselves, as they anticipated to be in the next twenty-four hours, safely moored in the port of plymouth, newton and his comrades found themselves, before that time had elapsed, safely locked up in the prison of morlaix. but we must not proceed so fast. although the _estelle_ had squared her mainyard as a signal of submission, the privateer's men, as they ranged their vessel alongside, thought it advisable to pour in a volley of musketry; this might have proved serious, had it not been that newton and his crew were all down below, hoping to secure a few changes of linen, which, in a prison, might prove very useful. as it was, their volley only killed the remaining french prisoner, who remained on deck, over-joyed at the recapture, and anticipating an immediate return to his own country; by which it would appear that the "_l'homme propose, mais dieu dispose_" of france, is quite as sure a proverb as the more homely "many a slip between cup and lip" of our own country. the boat of the privateer was sent on board: a dozen men, with their cutlasses flourishing over their heads, leapt on the deck of the _estelle_, and found nobody to exercise their valour upon, except the body of their departed comrade; upon which they shouted for the "sacré's god dams" to "monter." newton and the rest obeyed the summons, with their bundles in their hands; the latter they were soon relieved of by their conquerors, who, to prove that it was not out of "_politesse_" that they carried their effects, at the same time saluted them with various blows with their cutlasses upon their backs and shoulders. newton, who felt that resistance would only be an excuse for further aggression, bore with philosophy what he could not prevent, and hastened into the boat. the convicts also took their share with patience--they had been accustomed to "many stripes." roberts and williams, in spite of the remonstrances of newton, with all the reckless spirit or english, sailors, would not submit so quietly. the first object which attracted roberts' attention, as he came up the ladder, was the body of the remaining french prisoner. "what! johnny, so you're gone! didn't i tell you that your turn would come next? i say, my hearties, you keep all your bullets for your friends," continued roberts, addressing the privateer's men. a few "sacrés" and "f----s" was the reply, as one of them attempted to twitch his bundle out of his hand.--"hold fast there, old chap, don't take what you never paid for." a scuffle now ensued; which ended in roberts, who found that he could not retain possession, shying his bundle at the foremost man, with such force as to lay him on the deck.--"well, if you will have it, take it," cried roberts. "the beggars have chopped my fingers," growled williams. "i say, mounseer, don't make quite so free with that iron of yours, or i'll smash your top-lights." "i wish i had three on 'em on point beach, one up and one down. i'd sarve you out, you d--d frog-eating sea-cooks!" said roberts, squaring at the privateer's men with clenched fists. this obstreperous conduct produced a shower of blows with the backs of the cutlasses. williams, in a rage, wrenched a cutlass from one of the frenchmen, and laid about him; while roberts, with his fists, rushed within their guards, and laid two of them at his feet. at last they were overpowered and thrown into the boat, bleeding profusely from various cuts which they had received in the unequal scuffle. the privateer's people then shoved off and rowed on board of the schooner. as soon as newton and the other englishmen were up the side, they were pushed aft; their persons were then searched, and every part of their apparel, which appeared to be of good materials, or little worn, was taken from them. collins, the convict, was a good prize; he had put on shirt over shirt, stocking over stocking, and trousers over trousers, that the frenchmen began to wonder if ever they should arrive at the "inner man." at last, he was uncased, an old pair of trousers thrown to him, and he was left without any other garment, shivering in the cold. newton, who still retained his waistcoat and shirt, took off the former, and gave it to the convict, who whispered as he thanked him, "i don't care a fig, they have left me my old hat." as soon as the recapture was manned, the privateer bore up for the french coast, and before morning anchored in the rocky harbour of morlaix. at daylight, the prisoners, who had received no refreshment, were handed into a boat, and on their landing, conducted by a party of _gens d'armes_ to the prison. during their progress to their place of confinement collins excited the amusement of the bystanders, and the surprise of his fellow-prisoners, by walking with his hands and arms raised in a certain position. after they had been locked up, he went to the barred window, and continued the same gestures to the people who were crowded about the prison, most of whom continued their mockery. newton, who came forward to the window to request a little water for roberts and williams, who wished to quench their thirst and wash their wounds, which had not been dressed, inquired of collins his reasons for so doing. "it is for your benefit as well as mine," replied collins; "at least i hope so. there are freemasons in all countries." a few minutes afterwards, one of the people outside came forward, and pointed out to the sentry that the prisoners were making signs for water. the _gendarme_, who had paid no attention to newton, listened to the appeal of his countryman, who, upon the grounds of common humanity, persuaded him to allow them such a necessary boon. the water was brought, and, as the man walked away, a sign, unperceived by all but collins, gave him to understand that his appeal had been understood. "all's right," said collins to newton, as he quitted the grating. "we have friends without, and we have _friends_ within." in about an hour some bread was brought in, and among those who brought it collins perceived the person who had answered his signal; but no further recognition took place. at noon the door of the prison was again unbarred, and a surgeon came to dress the wounded men. he was accompanied by two or three others, deputed by the governor of the town to obtain intelligence, and the new acquaintance of collins appeared as interpreter. while the surgeon dressed the wounds of roberts and williams, which, although numerous, were none of any importance, many questions were asked, and taken down when interpreted. each prisoner was separately interrogated; collins was one of the first examined. the questions put and answers given were carefully intermixed with more important matter. the person who acted as interpreter spoke english too well for a frenchman: apparently he was a dane or russian, who was domiciliated there. he commenced with-- "no one understands english but me--but they are suspicious: be careful.--what is your name?" "john collins." "comment?" said the french amanuensis, "john co--lin. _c'est bien; continuez._" "what is your rank--_and in your lodge_?" "common seaman--_master_," answered collins, adroitly. "comment?" said the party with his pen. "matelot," replied the interpreter. "demandez-lui le nom du bâtiment." "what is the name of your ship?--_how can we assist you?_" "_terpsichore--a boat, with provisions._" "comment?" "frégate croiseur _terpsichore_." "does she sail well?--_at what time?_" "_to night, with a guide._" "que dit-il?" "elle marche bien avec le vent large." "demandez-lui la force." "what number of guns?--_how can you get out?_" "thirty-six guns.--_i have the means._" "trente-six canons." "trente-six canons," repeated the frenchman, writing; "c'est bien--alors, l'équipage." "how many men?--_i will be here at dark._" "two hundred and seventy men; but many away in prizes." "deux cents soixante-dix hommes-d'équipage; mais il y a beaucoup dans les bâtimens pris." newton and the others were also interrogated, the names taken down, and the parties then quitted the prison. "now, if we make a push for it, i think we may get off," said collins to newton and the rest, after the door had closed. "i never saw the prison in england which could hold me when i felt inclined to walk out of it; and as for their bars, i reckon them at about an hour's work. i never travel without my little friends;"--and collins, taking off his old hat, removed the lining, and produced a variety of small saws made from watch-springs, files, and other instruments. "then," continued he, "with these, and this piece of tallow stuck outside my hat, i will be through those bars in no time. french iron ar'n't worth a d--n, and the sentry sha'n't hear me if he lolls against them; although it may be just as well if thompson tips us a stave, as then we may work the faster." "i say, bill," observed hillson, "who is your friend?" "i don't know--he may be the governor; but this i do know, for the honour of freemasonry, we may trust him and all like him; so just mind your own business, tom." "he said he would be here at dark," observed newton. "yes,--i must prepare--go to the grating, some of you, that they may not look in upon me." this unexpected prospect of deliverance created an anxious joy in the breasts of the prisoners; the day appeared interminable. at last, the shades of night set in, and a clouded sky with mizzling rain raised their hopes. the square in front of the prison was deserted, and the sentinel crouched close against the door, which partially protected him from the weather. in a few minutes a person was heard in conversation with the sentinel. "he must be coming now," observed collins in a low tone; "that must be one of his assistants who is taking off the attention of the _gens d'arme_." "make no noise," said a voice in a whisper, at the outside of the bars. "i am here," replied collins, softly. "how can you get out of the prison?" "get the sentry out of the way when we leave off singing; the bars will then be removed." "everything is prepared outside. when you get out, keep close under the wall to the right. i shall be at the corner, if i am not here." the freemason then retired from the grating. "now, thompson, not too loud, there's no occasion for it; two of us can work." thompson commenced his song; newton took a small saw from collins, who directed him how to use it. the iron bars of the prison yielded like wood to the fine-tempered instruments which collins employed. in an hour and a half three of the bars were removed without noise, and the aperture was wide enough for their escape. the singing of thompson, whose voice was tolerably good, and ear very correct, had not only the effect of preventing their working being heard, but amused the sentinel, who remained with his back to the wall listening to the melody. their work was so far accomplished. thompson ceased, and all was silence and anxiety; in a few minutes the sentinel was again heard in conversation, and the voices receded, as if he had removed to a greater distance. "now, brother," said the low voice under the aperture. in a minute the whole of the prisoners were clear of the walls, and followed their guide in silence, until they reached the landing-place. "there is the boat, and provisions sufficient," said the freemason, in a low tone; "you will have to pass the sentries on the rocks: but we can do no more for you. farewell, brother; and may you and your companions be fortunate!" so saying, their friendly assistant disappeared. the night was so dark, that although close to the boat, it was with difficulty that its outlines could be discerned. newton, recommending the strictest silence and care in entering, stepped into it, and was followed by the rest. roberts, whose eyesight was a little affected from the wounds in his head, stumbled over one of the oars. "_qui vive?_" cried out one of the sentries on the rock. no answer was made; they all remained motionless in their seats. the sentry walked to the edge of the rock and looked down; but not distinguishing anything, and hearing no further noise, returned to his post. for some little while newton would not allow them to move: the oars were then carefully lifted over the gunnel, and their clothes laid in the rowlocks, to muffle the sound; the boat was pushed from the landing-place into the middle of the narrow inlet. the tide was ebbing, and with their oars raised out of the water, ready to give way if perceived, they allowed the boat to drift out of one of the narrow channels which formed the entrance of the harbour. the rain now beat down fast: and anxious to be well clear of the coast before daylight, newton thought they might venture to pull. the oars were taken by him and collins; but before they had laid them three times in the water, one of the sentries, hearing the noise, discharged his musket in the direction. "give way, now, as hard as we can," cried newton; "it's our only chance." another and another musket was fired. they heard the guard turned out; lights passing on the batteries close to them, and row-boats manning. they double-banked their oars, and, with the assistance of the ebb-tide and obscurity, they were soon out of gun-shot. they then laid in their oars, shipped their mast, and sailed away from the coast. it was nine o'clock in the evening when they started, and at daylight the french coast was not to be seen. overjoyed at their escape, they commenced an attack upon the provisions and a small keg of wine; and perhaps a more joyful breakfast never was made. the sun rose in vapour, the sky threatened, but they were free and happy. the wind freshened, and the boat flew before the gale; the running seas topping over her stern and forcing them continually to bale her out; but all was joy, and freedom turned their "danger to delight." they passed several vessels at a distance, who did not observe them; and before sunset the english coast was in sight. at ten o'clock the double lights on the lizard were on their starboard bow. they hauled up upon the larboard tack with the ebb-tide, and having passed the lizard, kept away for mount's bay, to avoid the chance of falling in with any of the king's vessels, and being again impressed. at daylight they ran in under st michael's mount, and once more stepped upon english ground. here, as by previous agreement, they divided the provisions, and took farewell of each other. "good-bye, gentlemen," said collins; "allow me to observe that, for once, you may think yourselves fortunate in having been placed in my very respectable company!" chapter xiii "once more upon the waters." byron. as newton had lost his credentials from captain northfleet, as well as the vessel confided to his charge, he did not consider it necessary to pay his respects to the port-admiral at plymouth. on the contrary, he set off, as fast as his legs would carry him, to liverpool, to ascertain the condition of his father. we shall pass over the difficulties he experienced on his journey. there is no country where travelling is more easy or more rapid than in england, provided that you have plenty of money; but when you travel _in formâ pauperis_, there is no country in which you get on so badly. parish rates and poor laws have dried up the sources of benevolence; and as newton did not apply to the overseers for his three-halfpence a mile, he got on how he could, which was badly enough. when at last he did arrive at liverpool, he found himself a stone or two the lighter, and would have been pronounced by captain barclay to have been in excellent training. newton had written to his father, acquainting him with his impressment; but was doubtful whether the letter had ever been received, as it had been confided to the care of one of the women who left the frigate the evening previous to her sailing. when he arrived at the house he perceived his father at his bench as usual, but doing nothing, and the shop windows were bare. newton entered, and his father looked up. "why, newton, my dear boy, is it you?" cried nicholas; "what a long while you have been away! well, how is mr hilton?--and how is your poor mother?" "my dear father," replied newton, taking his hand, "did not you receive my letter?" "no, i received no letter. what a time you have been away; i declare it must be two or three months, or more." "it is nearly twelve months, my dear father: i was pressed at bristol, have been on board of a man-of-war, and have just escaped from a french prison." newton then entered into a narrative of his adventures, to the astonishment of nicholas, who heard him with open mouth. "dear me! so you've been in a man-of-war, and in france; then you don't know how your poor mother is?" "have you not inquired, my dear father?" "no, i thought you would come home, and tell me all about it," replied nicholas, with a sigh. "how have you got on here?" said newton, to change the conversation. "very bad indeed, newton,--very bad indeed; i have not had six jobs since you left me." "i am sorry to hear it, father; have you anything to eat in the house, for i am very hungry?" "i am afraid not much," replied nicholas, going to the cupboard, and producing some bread and cheese. "can you eat bread and cheese, my dear boy?" "i could eat a horse, my dear father," replied newton, who had walked the last twelve hours without sustenance. newton attacked the provender, which soon disappeared. "i have been obliged to sell most of the shop furniture," said nicholas, observing newton to cast his eyes at the empty window. "i could not help it. i believe nobody wears spectacles in liverpool." "it can't be helped, father; we must hope for better times." "yes, we must trust in god, newton. i sold my watch yesterday, and that will feed us for some time. a sailor came into the shop, and asked if i had any watches to sell: i told him that i only repaired them at present; but that when my improvement in the duplex--" here nicholas forgot the thread of his narrative, and was commencing a calculation upon his intended improvement, when newton interrupted him. "well, sir, what did the sailor reply?" "oh! i forgot; i told him that i had a watch of my own that i would part with, which went very well; and that it would be cheaper to him than a new one; that it cost fifteen pounds; but i was in want of money, and would take five pounds for it. he saw how sorry i was to part with it--and so i was." here nicholas thought of his watch, and forgot his story. "well, my dear father," said newton, "what did he give you for it?" "oh!--why, he was a kind, good creature, and said that he was not the man to take advantage of a poor devil in distress, and that i should have the full value of it. he put the watch in his fob and counted out fifteen pounds on the counter. i wanted to return part: but he walked out of the shop, and before i could get round the counter, he had got round the corner of the street." "'twas a god-send, my dear father," replied newton, "for i have not a halfpenny. do you know what became of my chest, that i left on board of the sloop?" "dear me! now i think of it, it came here by the waggon. i put it upstairs. i wondered why you sent it." newton having appeased his hunger, went upstairs, and found all his wearing apparel had been forwarded by mr hilton, who supposed him dead, and that he was enabled to make a more respectable appearance than what the privateer's people had hitherto permitted him. in a few days he felt quite recovered from his fatigue, and sallied forth in search of employment. on the day after his arrival at liverpool he had written to the asylum, to inquire the fate of his mother. the answer which he received was, that mrs forster had recovered, and remained many months in the establishment as nurse; but that ten days back she had quitted the asylum, and that her address was not known. newton, who had no means of prosecuting further inquiry, was obliged to be satisfied with the intelligence that his mother was alive and well. he communicated the information to nicholas, who observed: "poor thing! she's looking for us, depend upon it, newton, and will be here very soon:" and this expectation was revived whenever nicholas thought of his wife; and he continued satisfied. we must allow many months to pass away in one paragraph--months of ineffectual struggle against poverty and want of employment, which newton made every exertion to obtain as mate of a merchant vessel. the way in which he had been impressed had caused a dread of the king's service, which he could not overcome; and although he had but to choose his ship as a sailor before the mast, he could not prevail upon himself to accept a berth which was not protected from the impress. without recommendation he could not obtain the situation of mate, and he continued to work as a rigger in the docks, until his hand was unfortunately severely jammed by the heel of a topmast, and he was laid up for many weeks. each day their fare became scantier, and they were reduced to their last shilling, when newton was again able to go out and seek employment. it was a rough day, blowing hard from the s.e., when newton, who had tried his fortune on board of every vessel (crowded as they were in the docks) without success, walked in a melancholy and disappointed mood along the splendid pier which lines the river-side. few people were out, for the gusts of wind were accompanied by smart driving showers of rain. here and there was to be seen a boat pulling up inshore to fetch the shipping in the stream, who with a heavy strain on their cables were riding to the s.e. gale, and a strong ebb-tide. newton had made up his mind to enter on board of one of these vessels about to sail, provided they would advance him a part of his wages for his father's support; when, as a heavy squall cleared away, he perceived that a boat had broken adrift from the outermost vessel (a large brig), with only one man in it, who was carried away by the rapid current, assisted by the gale blowing down the river, so as to place him in considerable risk. the man in the boat tossed out his oar, and pulling first on one side, and then on the other, tried to make for the shore; but in vain. he was swept away with a rapidity which threatened in less than an hour to carry him out to sea, unless assistance were afforded him. another heavy squall again hid the boat from the sight of newton, who had been anxiously watching to ascertain if any relief was sent from the shipping, and who was now convinced that the disaster had not been perceived. he therefore ran down the bank of the river, waiting until the squall should blow over, and enable him to discover the boat. in about ten minutes the squall passed over, and the boat was again presented to his sight; she was still in the centre of the stream, about three hundred yards from the shore. the man who was in her, finding all his attempts futile, had lain on his oar, and was kneeling in the sternsheets, apparently in supplication. newton could not resist the appeal; it appeared to point out to him that he was summoned to answer the call made upon providence. the boat was now a quarter of a mile further down the river than where he stood, and about three miles from the town and shipping, both of which were no longer discernible from the thickness of the weather. newton threw off his coat, and plunging into the agitated water, the cold of which nearly checked his respiration, swam off into the stream in a direction so as to allow himself to fetch to windward of the boat. he was soon carried down to it by the rapidity of the tide, and, as he approached, he shouted to announce his presence. the man in the boat started up at the sound of a human voice, and perceiving newton close to the bows, leant over and extended his hand towards him. newton seized hold of it, and then was whirled round by the tide fore and aft with the side of the boat, with such violence as nearly to drag the other man out, and half fill the boat with water. it was with great difficulty, although assisted by the occupant, that newton contrived at last to get in; when, exhausted with the efforts he had made, he remained a few seconds without motion; the man, whom he had thus risked his life to save, perceiving his condition, and not speaking to him. "we have no time to lose," said newton, at last: "take an oar, and let us pull in for the shore. if once we are swept down to the narrows there will be little chance for us." the other complied, without speaking; and, after a few minutes' exertion, the boat was safely landed on the liverpool side of the river. "the lord be praised!" ejaculated newton's companion, as he laid on his oar. "i did not call upon _him_ in vain; your accident has been the means of my preservation." "how do you mean?" inquired newton. "why, did you not fall overboard?" replied the other. newton then explained to his companion what we have already related to the reader, ending his narrative with the observation, that when he perceived him praying for assistance in his peril, he could not resist the appeal. "god will reward you, young man," continued he: "and now i will explain to you how it was that i was adrift, like a bear in a washing-tub. my first mate was below. i had just relieved the deck, for in this blowing weather we must keep watch in harbour. the men were all at their dinner, when i heard the boat thumping under the main channels. i got into her to ease off a fathom or two of the painter; but as i hauled her ahead to get at the bend, it appears that the monkey of a boy who made her fast, and has been but a few months at sea, had made a '_slippery hitch_,' so away it went, and i was adrift. i hailed them on board; but they did not hear me, although the first mate might have, for he was in the cabin, and the stern-window was up; but hailing to windward is hard work, such weather as this; the words are blown back again down your own throat. and now, let me know a little about you, my lad, and see whether i cannot in return be of some use to you." newton's history was soon told; and, at the conclusion, he had the satisfaction of finding that he had obtained the very situation which he had been in search of. "i have no second mate on board," observed the captain of the brig; "but i intended to have shipped one tomorrow. i was only divided between which to take of two who have offered themselves, with equally good recommendations. fortunately, i would promise neither; and, as i think your own recommendation stronger than theirs, the berth is at your service. i only wish, for your sake, that it was that of first mate. i am sure you would prove yourself fit for the situation; and i cannot say that i am very partial to the one that i have at present; but he is a relation of the owner." the arrangements were soon made. mr berecroft, the master of the vessel, advanced newton a sum to fit himself out, and agreed with the owner at liverpool that one-half of newton's wages should be allotted monthly to his father. the next morning, as the vessel had a pilot on board, and the weather had moderated, newton took leave of his father, and with a light heart accompanied his new acquaintance on board of the vessel. it was early in the morning when they embarked in a hired boat,--the one belonging to the brig still remaining down the river, where they had landed. the first mate, as it appeared, was in the cabin shaving himself, previous to his going on shore to the owner to report the supposed loss of his superior. the sailors were either busy or down below, so that no notice was taken of the boat coming alongside; and newton, with the master, were both on deck before the circumstance was known to the first mate. it so happened, that at the very same moment that they came on board, the first mate was ascending the companion hatch, to order a boat to be lowered down and manned. when he perceived mr berecroft, he fell back with astonishment, and turned pale. "i thought you were gone," said he: "why, what could have saved you? did you not drift out to sea?" "it appears, then, mr jackson, that you knew that i was adrift," replied the master, seriously, looking him steadfastly in the face. "that is,"--replied the mate, confused--"i thought--of course, seeing the boat was not alongside--that you had drifted away in her: how it happened--of course, i know not." "i should trust, for your conscience' sake, mr jackson, that you did not; however, here i am again, as you see, by the blessing of providence, and the exertions of this young man, whom i must introduce to you as our second mate." jackson cast an angry glance at newton upon the conclusion of this speech. the master had truly observed that it was strange the first mate did not hear him when he had hailed the brig for assistance. the fact was, that jackson had both heard him and seen him; but he was a wretch devoid of all feeling, who consulted nothing except his own interest. he had made sure that the master would be carried out to sea, there to perish by a most miserable death, and that he would succeed in command of the vessel. he was then going on shore to report the supposed "_falling overboard_" of the master: which, as the brig was to sail as soon as the weather moderated, would have secured to him the command, and, at the same time, have put an end to the search which (should he have reported the truth) would immediately have taken place for the boat in which the master had been adrift. foiled in his hopes, by the courage of newton, jackson had already formed towards him a deadly hatred and determination of revenge. that evening the wind abated, and the vessel sailed. the ensuing morning she was clear of the sands, and a pilot-vessel off holyhead having received the pilot, she steered down the irish channel to join a convoy for the west indies, collecting at falmouth. mr berecroft, the master of the vessel, who has not hitherto been described, was a spare, light-built person, of about sixty years of age, still active, and a thorough seaman. he had crossed the ocean for forty-five years, and his occasional narratives, as he walked the deck, or sat over his evening glass of grog, proved that his life must have been one of no ordinary variety and interest. he was serious and rationally devout. he checked all swearing from the men under his command, and rebuked it, although he could not prevent it, in the first mate; who, to annoy him, seldom made his appearance on deck without making use of some execration or another. it was mr berecroft's custom to call down the seamen into his cabin every evening, and read to them a short prayer; and, although this unusual ceremony often caused a leer in some of the newly-entered men, and was not only unattended but ridiculed by jackson, still the whole conduct of berecroft was so completely in unison, that even the most idle and thoughtless acknowledged that he was a good man, and quitted the ship with regret. such was mr berecroft; and we have little further to add, except that he was very superior to the generality of masters of merchant vessels. his family, it was reported, were strict quakers. jackson, the first mate, was a bull-headed, sandy-haired northumbrian; as we before stated, a relation of the owner's, or he never would have been permitted to remain in the ship. the reader has already had some insight into his diabolical character. it will be sufficient to add, that he was coarse and blustering in his manners; that he never forgot and never forgave an injury; gratitude was not in his composition; and, to gratify his revenge, he would stop at nothing. on the third day, the brig, which was named the _eliza and jane_, after the two daughters of the owner, arrived at falmouth, where she anchored in the outer roads, in company with thirty or forty more, who had assembled at the appointed rendezvous. on the second day after their arrival, a fifty-gun ship, frigate, and two corvettes, made their appearance off the mouth of the harbour; and after a due proportion of guns, some shotted and some not, the whole convoy were under weigh, and hove-to round their protectors. the first step taken by the latter was to disembarrass their _protégés_ of one-third of their crews, leaving them as defenceless as possible, that they might not confide in their own strength, but put their whole trust in the men-of-war, and keep as close to them as possible. having taken out every unprotected man, they distributed convoy signals in lieu, and half a dozen more guns announced that they were to make sail--an order immediately complied with: the merchant vessels, loaded with canvas below and aloft, while the men-of-war, with their topsails on the caps, sailed round and round them, firing shot at every unfortunate vessel which was not able to sail as well as the rest. the convoy left falmouth, seventy-five in number but in a few days there were but forty in sight. those who remained behind either made their voyage how they could, or were taken by the enemy's privateers, who followed in the wake of the convoy. some few were carried into the french ports; and the underwriters of the policy ate but little dinner on the day which brought the intelligence of their capture. others were retaken by the english blockading squadrons, who received then one-eighth for salvage. at last the men-of-war were fairly running down the traders, with about twenty-five of the best sailers in company: and the commodore deemed it advisable to take particular care of the few which remained, lest he should be _"hauled over the coals_" by the admiralty. nothing worth comment occurred during the remainder of the passage. they all arrived safe at barbadoes, when the commodore brought in his returns to the admiral, and complained bitterly of the obstinacy of the masters of merchant vessels, who would part company with him, in defiance of all his injunctions, and in spite of all the powder which he fired away to enforce his signals. there certainly was a fault somewhere. during the passage, which lasted seven weeks, newton had ample opportunity of ascertaining his situation. the master invariably treated him with kindness and consideration; and before the voyage was completed, he treated him as if he were his own son. jackson lost no opportunity of annoying or insulting him; but the support of his patron indemnified newton for the conduct of the first mate, and he resolved to take no notice of that which could not well be prevented. on their arrival at barbadoes, mr berecroft went on shore to the house of the consignee; and then it was that the malignity of jackson broke out in all its violence. the brig had discharged her cargo, and was lying in carlisle bay, waiting for the sugars which were to be shipped for liverpool. one morning, when newton, who for some time had submitted to the tyranny of jackson without complaint, was standing at the main hatchway, giving directions to the men below, who were arranging the dunnage at the bottom of the vessel, the first mate came on deck, and watching his opportunity, staggered, with a rope in his hand, against newton, as if by accident, so as to throw him over the coombings. newton, who would have immediately fallen to the bottom of the hold upon the ballast at the risk of his life, suddenly seized hold of the first mate, not in sufficient time to recover his own balance, but so firmly as to drag jackson with him; and down they were both precipitated together. the first mate, having hold of one of the ropes leading down the mainmast, clung fast to save himself, and in so doing also broke the fall of newton; but the weight of their bodies dragged the rope through jackson's hands, which were lacerated to the bone. neither party was much hurt by the fall; so that the treachery of jackson recoiled upon himself. after this specimen of animosity, which was duly reported to mr berecroft, on his return on board, by the seamen, who detested jackson and anything like foul play, his protector determined that newton should no longer be subjected to further violence. at the request of mr berecroft, newton was invited to stay at the house of mr kingston, the gentleman to whom the vessel had been consigned--an offer which was gladly accepted. newton had not been many days on shore, when mr kingston, who had taken a strong interest in him, proposed, in answer to many of his questions relative to the slave trade, that they should make a party to visit a plantation, the proprietor of which had been a resident since his youth, and judge for himself as to the truth of the reports so industriously circulated by those who were so inimical to the employment of a slave population. chapter xiv "_aboan_.--the innocent! _oroonoko_.--these men are so, whom you would rise against. if we are slaves, they did not make us slaves, but bought us in the honest way of trade, as we have done before 'em, bought and sold many a wretch, and never thought it wrong. they paid our price for us, and we are now their property, a part of their estate, to manage as they please." at an early hour the party, consisting of mr kingston, the master of the brig, and newton, set off upon mules for the habitation of the planter. the sun had illumined the sky, but had not yet made his appearance, although the golden fringes upon the clouds, which floated in broad belts in the horizon, indicated his glorious yet withering approach. the dew moistened each leaf, or hung in glittering pendant drops upon the thorn of the prickly pears which lined the roads. the web of the silver-banded spider was extended between the bushes, and, saturated with moisture, reflected the beams of the rising orb, as the animals danced in the centre, to dazzle their expected prey. the mist still hovered on the valleys, and concealed a part of the landscape from their view; and the occasional sound of the fall of water was mingled with the twittering and chirping of the birds, as they flew from spray to spray. the air was fresh, even to keenness, and anyone suddenly wafted to the scene would little have imagined that he was under the torrid zone. "how different this is from the ideas generally formed of the climate in the west indies!" observed newton. "in england, we couple it with unsufferable heat and the yellow fever." "your reports are from those who seldom leave the harbours or towns, where such indeed prevail," replied kingston. "there is no island in the caribbean sea where the early riser may not enjoy this delightful, bracing atmosphere. at jamaica in particular, where they collect as much snow as they please in the mountains; yet, at the same time, there is not a more fatal and unhealthy spot than port royal harbour, in the same island." "is the plantation we are going to situated as high above the level of the sea as we are now?" "no; most plantations are in the ravines, between the hills. the sugar-cane requires heat. as soon as we are on the summit of this next hill we shall descend to it." in half an hour they arrived at the end of their journey, when they stopped at an extensive range of low buildings, situated at the head of the valley, which descended to the sea,--now for the first time presented to their view since they had quitted bridgetown. the owner of the estate was at the door to receive them. he was a tall, spare man, dressed in nankeen jacket and trousers, with a large-brimmed straw hat upon his head. "welcome, gentlemen, welcome. kingston, how are you?" said he, as they stopped. "now dismount, gentlemen; the boys will take the mules. boy jack, where are you? where's baby, and where's bulky? come here, you lazy rascals, and take the mules. now then, gentlemen, i'll show you the way. i ordered breakfast on the table, as i saw you coming down the hill." so saying, the old gentleman led the way through a portico. at the sight of strangers, the windows underneath were crowded with faces of various degrees of colour--eyes and mouths wide open, the latter displaying rows of teeth, so even and so brilliantly white, that they might cause a sensation of envy to many an english belle. the party were ushered into a spacious and cool apartment on the ground-floor, where a table was covered with all the varieties of a tropical breakfast, consisting of fried fish, curries, devilled poultry, salt meats, and everything which could tend to stimulate an enfeebled appetite. "now, gentlemen, let me recommend you to take a white jacket; you'll be more at your ease, and there is no ceremony here. boy jack, where's the sangoree? this is a fine climate, captain berecroft; all you have to attend to is--to be temperate, and not to check the perspiration." boy jack who, _par parenthèse_, was a stout, well-looking negro, of about forty years of age, now made his appearance with the sangoree. this was a beverage composed of half a bottle of brandy and two bottles of madeira, to which were added a proportion of sugar, lime-juice, and nutmeg, with water _ad lib_. it was contained in a glass bowl, capable of holding two gallons, standing upon a single stalk, and bearing the appearance of a brobdingnag rummer. boy jack brought it with both hands, and placed it before his master. "now, sir, will you drink?" said the planter, addressing mr berecroft. "thank you," replied mr berecroft, "i never drink so early in the morning." "drink! why this is nothing but _swizzle_. here's your health, sir, i'll show you the way." the large goblet was fixed to his lips for upwards of a minute: at last they unwillingly separated, and the old planter recovered his respiration with a deep sigh. "now then, gentlemen, do you take a little; don't be afraid; there's nothing you mayn't do in this climate, only be temperate, and don't check the perspiration." at this moment newton was startled, and looked under the table. "i thought it was a dog, but it's a little black child." "oh! there's one out, is there? why, boy jack, did i not tell you to shut them all in?" "yes, sar, so i did," said the black man, looking under the table. "eh!--it's that d--d little nigger--two-year old sambo--no possible keeping him in, sar.--come out, sambo." the child crawled out to his master, and climbed up by his knee: the old planter patted his woolly head, and gave him a piece of grilled turkey, with which he immediately dived again under the table. "the fact is, captain, they are accustomed to come in at breakfast-time; they are only shut out to-day because i have company. that door behind me leads into the nursery-yard." "the nursery-yard!" "yes, i'll show it you by-and-bye; there's plenty of them there." "oh, pray let us have them in--i wish to see them, and should be sorry to be the cause of their being disappointed." "open the door, boy jack." as soon as it was open, about twenty black children, from seven to three years old, most of them naked, with their ivory skins like a polished table, and quite pot-bellied from good living, tumbled into the room, to the great amusement of newton and the party. they were followed by seven or eight more, who were not yet old enough to walk; but they crawled upon all-fours almost as fast as the others who could walk erect after the image of their maker. the company amused themselves with distributing to the children the contents of the dishes on the table--the elder ones nestling alongside of the planter and his friends with the greatest familiarity, while the younger sat upright on the floor, laughing as they devoured their respective portions. "of course, these are all slaves?" observed mr berecroft. "yes, bred them all myself," replied the planter; "indeed, out of two hundred and fifteen which i have on the estate, i think that there are not more that twelve who were not born on this property, during my father's time or mine. perhaps, as breakfast is over, you will like to inspect my nursery." the planter led the way into the yard from which the children had entered. it was a square, of about two roods of ground, three sides of which were enclosed by rows of small houses, of two rooms each; and most of them were occupied by female slaves, either nursing children at the breast, or expecting very soon to have that duty to perform. they received their master with a smiling face, as he addressed a question to each of them when he entered their abode. "now these are all my _breeding_ women; they do no work, only take care of the children, who remain here until they are eight or nine years old. we have a surgeon on the estate, who attends them as well as the other slaves when they are sick. now, if you feel inclined, we will go round the works." the old planter, in a few minutes' walk, brought them to an extensive row of detached cottages, each centred in a piece of garden-ground, well stocked with yams, sweet potatoes, bananas, and other tropical productions. poultry of all descriptions were scattered in profusion about the place, and pigs appeared to be abundant. "now, captain, these are the cottages of the working slaves. the garden-ground is allowed to them; and whatever they can make by its produce, or by their pigs and their poultry, is all their own." "but how are they subsisted?" "by rations, as regularly served out as yours are on board of your vessel, and they have as much as they can consume." "are they all single men?" "no, mostly married to slave girls on the estate: their wives live with them, unless they breed, and then they are removed up to the nurseries." "and what work do you exact from them?" "eight hours a day--except in crop-time, and then we are very busy; so that they have plenty of leisure to look after their own interests if they choose." "do they ever lay up much money?" "very often enough to purchase their freedom, if they wished it." "if they wished it!" replied mr berecroft with surprise. "yes; without explanation, that may appear strange to you, and still more strange, the fact, that freedom offered has often been refused. a man who is a clever workman as a carpenter, or any other trade, will purchase his freedom if he can, because artisans can obtain very high wages here; but a slave who, if i may use the term, is only a common labourer, would hardly support himself, and lay by nothing for his old age. they are aware of it. i have offered emancipation to one or two who have grown old, and they have refused it, and now remain as heirlooms on the estate, provided with everything, and doing little or no work, if they please. you saw that old man sweeping under the portico? well, he does that every day; and it is all he has done for these five years. now, if you please, we will go through the plantations, and visit the sugar-mills." they passed the slaves, who were at work hoeing between the canes; and certainly, if an estimate of their condition was to be taken by the noise and laughter with which they beguiled their labour, they were far from demanding pity. "but, i must confess, that there is something in that cart-whip which i do not like," observed newton. "i grant it; but custom is not easily broken through; nor do we know any substitute. it is the badge of authority, and the noise of it is requisite to summon them to their labour. with me it is seldom used, for it is not required; and if you were captain of a man-of-war, i should answer you as i did captain c----; to wit--i question much whether my noisy whip is half so mischievous as your silent _cat_." the sugar-mills, stables of mules, boilers, coolers, &c., were all examined, and the party returned to the plantation-house. "well, captain, now you have witnessed what is termed slavery, what is your opinion? are your philanthropists justified in their invectives against us?" "first assure me that all other plantations are as well regulated as your own," replied mr berecroft. "if not, they soon will be: it is to the interest of all the planters that they should; and by that, like all the rest of the world, they will be guided." "but still there have been great acts of cruelty committed; quite enough to prepossess us against you as a body." "i grant that such has been the case, and may occasionally be so now; but do not the newspapers of england teem with acts of barbarity? men are the same everywhere. but, sir, it is the misfortune of this world, that we never know _when to stop_. the abolition of the slave-trade was an act of humanity, worthy of a country acting upon an extended scale like england; but your philanthropists, not content with relieving the blacks, look forward to the extermination of their own countrymen, the whites--who, upon the faith and promise of the nation, were induced to embark their capital in these islands." "doubtless they wish to abolish slavery altogether," replied berecroft. "they must be content with having abolished the horrors of it, sir," continued the planter. "at a time when the mart was open, and you could purchase another slave to replace the one that had died from ill-treatment, or disease, the life of a slave was not of such importance to his proprietor as it is now. moreover, the slaves imported were adults, who had been once free; and, torn as they were from their natural soil and homes, where they slept in idleness throughout the day, they were naturally morose and obstinate, sulky, and unwilling to work. this occasioned severe punishment; and the hearts of their masters being indurated by habit, it often led to acts of barbarity. but slavery, since the abolition, has assumed a milder form--it is a species of _bond_ slavery. there are few slaves in existence who have not been born upon the estates, and we consider that they are more lawfully ours." "will you explain what you mean by _more lawfully_?" "i mean, captain (for instance), that the father of that boy (pointing to one of the negro lads who waited at breakfast) was my slave; that he worked for me until he was an old man, and then i supported him for many years until he died. i mean, that i took care of this boy's mother, who, as she bore children, never did any work after her marriage, and has since been only an expense to me, and probably will continue to be so for some years. i mean, that that boy was taken care of, and fed by me until he was ten years old, without my receiving any return for the expense which i incurred; and i therefore consider that he is indebted to me as a bond-slave, and that i am entitled to his services; and he, in like manner, when he grows too old to work, will become a pensioner, as his father was before him." "i perceive the drift of your argument; you do not defend slavery generally." "no; i consider a man born free, and made a slave, is justified in resorting to any means to deliver himself; but a slave that i have reared is lawfully a slave, and bound to remain so, unless he can repay me the expense i have incurred. but dinner is ready, captain; if you wish to argue the matter further, it must be over a bottle of claret." the dinner was well dressed, and the madeira and claret (the only wines produced) of the best quality. their host did the honours of his table with true west indian hospitality, circulating the bottle after dinner with a rapidity which would soon have produced an effect upon less prudent visitors; and when mr berecroft refused to take any more wine, he ordered the ingredients for arrack punch. "now, mr forster, you must take a tumbler of this, and i think that you'll pronounce it excellent." "indeed!------" replied newton. "nay, i will take no denial; don't be afraid; you may do anything you please in this climate, only be temperate, and don't check the perspiration." "well, but," observed newton, who placed the tumbler of punch before him. "you promised to renew your argument after dinner; and i should like to hear what you have to urge in defence of a system which i never have heard defended before." "well," replied his host, upon whom the wine and punch had begun to take effect, "just let me fill my tumbler again to keep my lips moist, and then i'll prove to you that slavery has existed from the earliest times, and is not at variance with the religion we profess. that it has existed from the earliest times, you need only refer to the book of genesis; and that it is not at variance with our religion, i must refer to the fourth commandment. how can that part of the commandment be construed, 'and the stranger that is within thy gates'? to whom can this possibly apply but to the slave? after directing that the labour of all the household, 'man-servant and maid-servant,' should cease, it then proceeds to the ox and the ass, and the stranger that is within thy gates. now, gentlemen, this cannot be applied to the stranger in the literal sense of the word, the hospitality of the age forbidding that labour should be required of him. at that time slaves were brought from foreign lands, and were a source of traffic, as may be inferred by the readiness with which the ishmaelites purchased joseph of his brethren, and resold him in egypt. "nay, that slavery was permitted by the _almighty_ is fully proved by the state of the jewish nation, until _he_ thought proper to bring them out of the house of bondage. "if, then, the laws of god provided against the ill-treatment of the slave, slavery is virtually acknowledged as not being contrary to his divine will. we have a further proof, _subsequent to the mission of our saviour_, that the apostles considered slavery as lawful." "i remember it: you refer to paul sending back the runaway slave onesimus. well, i'll admit all this," replied mr berecroft, who had a great dislike to points of scripture being canvassed after dinner; "and i wish to know what inference you would draw from it." "that i was just coming to: i assert that my property in slaves is therefore as legally mine as my property in land or money; and that any attempt to deprive me of either is equally a _robbery_, whether it be made by the nation or by an individual. but now, sir, allow me to ask you a question, show me where liberty is?--run over all the classes of society, and point out one man who is free?" mr berecroft, who perceived the effect of the arrack punch, could not refrain from laughing, as he replied, "well, your friend mr kingston, is he not free?" "free! not half so free as that slave boy who stands behind your chair. why, he is a merchant; and whether he lives upon a scale of princely expenditure, whether wholesale or retail, banker, or proprietor of a chandler's shop, he is a speculator. anxious days and sleepless nights await upon speculation. a man with his capital embarked, who may be a beggar on the ensuing day, cannot lie down upon roses: he is the _slave_ of mammon. who are greater _slaves_ than sailors? so are soldiers, and all who hold employ under government. so are politicians: they are _slaves_ to their tongues; for opinions once expressed, and parties once joined, at an age when reason is borne down by enthusiasm, and they are fixed for life against their conscience, and are unable to follow its dictates without blasting their characters. courtiers are _slaves_, you must acknowledge." "i beg your pardon," interrupted kingston, "but i perceive that you make no distinction between those enthralled by their own consent, and _against_ it." "it is a distinction without a difference," replied the planter, "even if it were so, which it is not, but in particular cases. the fact is, society enthrals us all. we are forced to obey laws, to regard customs, to follow the fashion of the day, to support the worthless by poor-rates, to pay taxes, and the interest of a debt which others have contracted, or we must go to prison." "and the princes and rulers of the land--do you include them?" inquired newton. "they are the greatest of all; for the meanest peasant has an advantage over the prince in the point on which we most desire to be free--that of the choice in his partner in life. he _has none_, but must submit to the wishes of his people, and trammelled by custom, must take to his bed one whom he cannot take to his heart." "well, by your account, there is nobody free, unless it be _liberty_ herself." "why, sir," rejoined the planter, "to prove to you that i was correct when i asserted that there was no such thing in this world as liberty, paradoxical as it may appear, liberty is but liberty when in _bondage_. release her, and she ceases to exist; she has changed her nature and character; for liberty _unrestrained_ becomes _licentiousness_." "well," said mr kingston, laughing with the rest at this curious remark, "as you have now arrived at your climax, with your leave we will go to bed." "have i convinced you?" demanded the planter, taking the tumbler from his lips. "at least you have silenced us. now, if you please, we will put on our coats and retire to our apartments." "yes--do," replied the other, who was not very steady; "do--or you may check the perspiration. boy jack, where are the lights? good-night, gentlemen." the negro led the way to a large room with two beds in it, for newton and the master of the brig. having first pointed out to them that there was a jug of sangoree, "suppose gentlemen thirsty," he wished them good-night, and left the room. "well, newton," said mr berecroft, as soon as they were alone, "what do you think of the planter?" "i think that, considering his constant advice to be temperate, he swallowed a very large quantity of arrack punch." "he did indeed; but what think you of his arguments?" "i hardly can say, except that none of them were sufficiently convincing to induce me to be a slave proprietor. we may perhaps, as he asserts, have contented ourselves with the shadow instead of the substance; but even the shadow of liberty is to be venerated by an englishman." "i agree with you, my boy. his discourse did, however, bring one idea into my head; which is, that there is a remarkable connection between religion and slavery. it was in a state of bondage that the jews were prepared to receive the promised land; and whenever they fell off from the true worship, they were punished by captivity. it was through the means of slavery that the light of the true faith was first brought to our island, where it has burnt with a purer flame than elsewhere; for, if you recollect, the beauty of some english children exposed for sale at rome, assisted by a latin pun, caused the introduction of christianity into great britain; and who knows but that this traffic, so offensive to humanity, has been permitted by an allwise power, with the intent that some day it shall be the means of introducing christianity into the vast regions of african idolatry?" "true," observed newton; "and the time may not be far distant." "that it is impossible to calculate upon. _he_ worketh by his own means, which are inscrutable. it was not the cause of virtue, but a desire that vice might be less trammelled, which introduced the reformation in england. the more we attempt to interfere with the arrangements of the almighty, the more we shall make evident our own folly and blindness, and his unsearchable and immutable wisdom.--good-night, my boy." chapter xv "_lucy_--are all these wretches slaves? _stanley_--all sold, they and their posterity, all slaves. _lucy_--o! miserable fortune! _bland_--most of them know no better, but were born so, and only change their masters." _oroonoko_ the party were up at an early hour on the ensuing morning, that they might enjoy the delightful freshness of the air, which so soon evaporates before the scorching rays of the tropical sun. they were joined at breakfast by the doctor who attended the estate, and who had called in to announce the birth of a little negro boy in the early part of the night. "who did you say, doctor?" answered the planter, "mattee sally? why, i thought jane ascension was in advance of her." "they were running it _neck and neck_, sir," replied the surgeon. "how is she--quite hearty?" "quite, sir; but very anxious about the child's name, and requests to speak with you as soon as you have breakfasted." "we will go to her. you have no idea," observed the planter to mr berecroft and newton, "what importance these people attach to the naming of their children. nothing but a fine long name will satisfy them. i really believe, that if i refused her, or called the boy tom, she would eat dirt. i believe we have all done: boy jack, bring the sangoree. doctor, i daresay that your clay wants moistening, so take the first pull." this important commencement and finale to the repast having been duly administered, they proceeded to the range of buildings before mentioned, in one of which they found the lady _in the straw_, sitting up, and showing her white teeth at her master's approach, as if nothing very particular had occurred. "well, mattee, how are you?" said the planter. "where's the piccaninny?" "ab um here, sar--keep im warm," replied the woman, pointing to a roll of blanket, in which the little creature was enveloped. "let us see him, mattee." "no sar, too cold yet--bye bye, massa, see um; make very fine sleep now. suppose white piccaninny, suppose black piccaninny--all same--like plenty sleep. um know very well, hab plenty work to do bye bye--sleep all dey can, when lilly." "but you'll smother him," observed newton. "smoder him?--what dat--eh?--i know now massa mean, stop um breath. no: suppose him no smoder before, no smoder now, sar. massa," continued the woman, turning to the planter, "no ab name for piccaninny?" "well, mattee, we must find one; these gentlemen will give him a name. come, captain, what name do you propose?" "suppose we christen him _snub_," replied berecroft, winking at the rest. "snob! what sart a name you call dat, sar?" replied the woman, tossing up her head. "snob! no, sar, you 'front me very much. snob not proper name." "well, then, mr forster," said the planter, "try if you can be more fortunate." "what do you think of chrononhotonthologus?" said newton to the woman. "eh! what dat?--say that again, sar," replied the woman. "chrononhotonthologus." "eh! dat real fine name for piccaninny," cried the woman, with delight in her countenance. "many tanky, sar. chroton--polygarse." "no, no," replied newton, laughing; "chrononhotonthologus." "es, hab um now--hoton--tolyglass." "no, that's only part. chronon--hoton--thologus." "i see--very fine name--proton--choton--polyglass." "yes, that's nearer to it," replied newton. "well, then, that point's settled," said the planter to the woman. "is it all right, mattee?" "es, massa; many tanks to gentleman--very fine name, do very well, sar." "doctor, put the name down opposite the register of the birth. now, mattee, all's right, good-bye," said the planter, leaving the room and followed by the others. "do you really intend to call the child by that name?" inquired mr berecroft. "why not? it pleases the woman, and is as good as any other; it is of no consequence. they almost all have names, certainly not quite so long as the present; but as they grow longer, their names grow shorter. this name will first be abbreviated to chrony; if we find that too long, it will be reduced again to crow; which, by-the-bye, is not a bad name for a negro," said the planter, laughing at the coincidence. reader, did you ever, perchance, when in a farmyard, observe a hen or other domestic fowl, who having pounced upon half a potato, or something of the same description, too large to be bolted down at once, tries to escape with her prize, followed by all the rest, until she either drops it or eludes their vigilance? if so, you form some idea of a negro woman with a hard word in her mouth; which, although she does not know the meaning of, she considers as an equal treasure. newton had turned round to the courtyard, in the centre of which several women were sitting down at various employments; when one who had been busied in some little offices for the woman whom they had just visited, and had in consequence been present at the choice of the name, took her seat with the party in question. to several queries put to her she replied with extreme hauteur, as if she considered them as impertinent, and frowned upon her companions most majestically. after a short time she rose, and turning round, with the look of an empress, said, "now, i shall go look after my hoton-poton-pollybass." "eh?" cried one, opening her eyes with wonder. "what dat?" screamed another. "how you call dat long ting?" demanded a third. "eh! you tupid black tings," replied the proud possessor of the new word, with a look of ineffable scorn, "you no know what um call poton-hoton-poll-fass. me _no_ tell you," continued she, as she walked away, leaving the others almost _white_ with envy and astonishment. shortly after this mr kingston with his party took their leave of the hospitable old planter, and commenced their return to bridgetown. they had not proceeded further than a quarter of a mile, when, ascending a little hill, newton discovered that a negro was assisting his own ascent by hanging on to the tail of his mule. "how do you do this morning, sar?" said the man, grinning, as newton looked round. "i'm very well, sir, i thank you; but i'm afraid i shall not be able to keep up with the rest, if my mule has to pull you up hill, as well as carry me." "es, sar, mule go faster. massa not understand; mule very obstinate, sar. suppose you want go one way, he go anoder--suppose you pull him back by tail, he go on more." "well, if that's the case, you may hold on. do you belong to the plantation?" "no, sar, me free man. me work there; carpenter, sar." "a carpenter! how did you learn your trade, and obtain your freedom?" "larn trade board man-of-war, sar--man-of-war make me free." mr berecroft, who had been listening to the colloquy, took up the discourse. "were you born in this country?" "no, sar! me ashantee man." "then how did you come here?" "why, sar, ab very fine battle in ashantee country. take me and send me down to coast; sell me for slave. go on board french schooner--english frigate take schooner, send me to sarra leon." "well, what did you do there?" "bind 'prentice, sar, to massa cawly, for farteen years--all de same as slave; work very hard; yam bad; plenty fever in dat country--much better here." "then how did you get away from sierra leone?" "go to sleep one day in de bush--tieves come steal me, take me down to coast, sell me again." "well, where did you go then?" "bard schooner again, sar. another man-of-war take schooner in west indies: send her in prize. keep me and some on board becase want hands; keep me, becase speak little english." "how did you like a man-of-war?" inquired newton. "man-of-war very fine place; but all slaves there--captain steal men every ship he come to. but sailor no tink so; ebery night we all sing, britong nebber, nebber, nebber, will be slave. make me laugh, sar," continued the man, showing his teeth with a broad grin. "what was the frigate's name?" "very fine name, sar, call her _daddy wise_."[ ] [footnote : _dedaigneuse_, we suppose.] "how long were you on board of her?" "far year, sar; larn carpenter trade--go to england--pay off--get plenty money--come out here in marchant vessel; england very fine place, but too much cold," said the negro, shuddering at the bare recollection. "now, tell me," said kingston, "of course you recollect being in your own country? which do you like best--that or this?" "ashantee very good country--barbadoes very good country. ashantee nebber work, hab no money--here plenty work, plenty money." "well, but where would you rather be--here or there?" "don't know, sar. like to find country where no work, plenty money." "not singular in his opinion," observed newton. "men do all work here, sar: women only talk," continued the negro. "my country, men nebber work at all--women do all work, and feed men." "then what does the man do?" inquired berecroft. "man, sar," replied the negro, proudly, "man go fight--go kill." "is that all?" "yes, sar, that all." "so, you then mean to say, that if you could go back to ashantee now you would remain there?" "yes, sar, stay there--do no work--sleep all day--make women feed me." "how inveterate is early habit!" observed mr berecroft. "this man, although free in a civilised country, would return to his idleness, and resume his former ignorance." "and so would every slave not born in the country. it requires one or two generations to destroy this savage nature," replied kingston. "i believe, idleness, like gout, to be a hereditary disease, either in black or white; i have often observed it in the latter. now, until man labours there is no chance of civilisation: and, improved as the race of africa have been in these islands, i still think that if manumitted, they would all starve. in their own country nature is so bountiful that little or no labour is required for the support of life; but in these islands the soil, although luxuriant, must be nurtured." "you do then look forward to their ultimate freedom?" inquired newton. "most assuredly. already much has been done, and if not persecuted, we should be able and willing to do much more." "the public mind in england is certainly much inflamed against you," said berecroft. "it is; or rather, i should say, the more numerous public composed of those persons unable to think for themselves, and in consequence, led by others styling themselves philanthropists, but appearing to have very jesuitical ideas with regard to truth. this i have no hesitation in asserting, that if philanthropy had not been found to have been so very _profitable_, it never would have had so many votaries: true philanthropy, like charity, begins at home. observe how the papers teem with the misery of the lower classes in england, yet this affects not the west india philanthropist. you perceive not their voices raised in behalf of their suffering countrymen. they pass the beggar in the street; they heed not the cry of starvation at home; but everywhere raise petitions for emancipation; or, in fact, for the destruction of the property of others. that it is an invidious property, i grant, and i wish i could dispose of mine; but that is not so easy. my ancestors embarked their capital in these islands upon the faith and promises of the country, when opinions were very different from what they are now, and i cannot help myself. however, the time will come when england will bitterly rue the having listened to the suggestions and outcries of these interested people." "i do not understand you. how do you mean?" "i said before, that it was on the faith of the country that we embarked our property in these islands. you are not perhaps aware, that when, in the reign of queen anne, the assiento treaty was made, by which we obtained the privilege of supplying all the islands with slaves, it was considered as one of the most important acquisitions that could be obtained. public opinion has now changed; but if a nation changes her opinion, she must at the same time be just. let the country take our estates and negroes at a fair valuation, and we shall be most happy to surrender them. if she frees the slaves without so doing, she is guilty of robbery and injustice, and infringes on the constitution of the country, which protects all property, and will of course allow us to decide upon our own measures." "may i inquire what those would be?" "throwing off the yoke, declaring ourselves independent, and putting ourselves under the protection of america, who will gladly receive us, aware that we shall be a source not only of wealth but of security." "would america risk a war to obtain these islands?" "she would be foolish not to do so; and england would be more than foolish to engage in one. it is true, that if not immediately supported by america, england might create a scene of confusion and bloodshed in the colonies; but the world has too often had the severe lesson, that colonies once detaching themselves are never to be regained. england would therefore be only entailing a useless expense, however gratifying it might be to her feelings of revenge." "but do you think that this is likely to occur?" "i do, most certainly, if those who govern continue to listen to the insidious advice of the party denominated 'saints'; and i am afraid that it will not be until these islands are separated from the mother-country, that she will appreciate their value. our resolution once formed, we white slaves (for slaves we are) will not flinch; and the islands of the caribbean sea will be enrolled as another star, and add another stripe to the independent flag, which is their natural protector." "i trust that will never come to pass." "and so do i, mr berecroft; for i am an englishman, and love my country, and the loss of these colonies would be a blow from which england would never recover." "you forget her extensive colonies in the east." "i do not; but the west indies add to her wealth and her commercial prosperity, to her nursery of seamen and her exhausted revenue. they, on the contrary, add only to her grandeur, for they cost the country three millions a year; and i doubt whether at that expense it is worth while to retain any colony, however vast and extensive it may be. i consider, that if the east india ports were open to all the world, and the territory governed by its former princes, england, with all the competition which would take place, would yet be a gainer; and, on the other hand, i know that by the loss of these islands, she would find a decrease of millions in her revenue." "then the philanthropists must pay the national debt?" observed newton, laughing. "they be d----d!" replied kingston, who was warm with his argument; "they would not pay a farthing." chapter xvi "the sea-breach'd vessel can no longer bear the floods that o'er her burst in dread career. the labouring hull already seems half fill'd with water, through an hundred leaks distill'd: thus drench'd by every wave, her riven deck, stript and defenceless, floats a naked wreck." falconer. newton remained at bridgetown, under the roof of mr kingston, for more than three weeks, by which time the brig was laden, and waiting for convoy to proceed to england. mr berecroft had made every preparation for his voyage, when an unexpected circumstance occurred, which eventually proved the occasion of great hardship and danger to newton. this was, the master of a large ship belonging to the same owners, and then lying in carlisle bay, to proceed homeward by the same convoy, had so ingratiated himself with a wealthy widow residing upon the island, that rather than he should again trust himself to the fickle element, she had been induced to surrender up to him her plantation, her negroes, and her fair self,--all equally bound to honour and obey through their future lives. mr berecroft, in consequence of this resignation of his brother captain, was appointed to the command of the larger vessel; and jackson, the first mate, ordered to take the command of the _eliza and jane_. this was a sad blow to newton, and one which he could not avoid, as mr berecroft could not take him in his new ship,--all the subordinate situations being already filled up. at first, he was inclined to quit the brig; but by the advice of mr berecroft and kingston, he was persuaded to go the passage home, as he was now first mate of the vessel, and would incur forfeiture of all wages if he broke the articles which he had signed at liverpool. unpleasant as the prospect was, he was further induced by berecroft's assurance, that now jackson was provided for, he would arrange with the owners that newton should be appointed the first mate of his own ship, as soon as they arrived in england. in a few days the men-of-war made their appearance. newton, who had remained on shore until the last moment, shook hands with his friendly patron, and thanking mr kingston for his kindness, went on board of the vessel with a sorrowful and foreboding heart. nor was he at all inclined to cheer up as he stepped on the deck of the brig, and beheld jackson with a handspike, still brandishing over his head, standing across the body of one of the seamen, whom he had just dashed to the deck with the implement in his hand. at the sight of newton, the wrath of the new captain appeared to be increased. he eyed him malevolently, and then observed, with a sneer, "that's what all skulkers may expect on board of my vessel." newton made no answer, and jackson went forward, where the remainder of the crew were heaving up the anchor with the windlass. newton walked up to the seaman, who appeared still insensible, and examined him. the iron plate at the end of the handspike had cut deep into the skull, and there was every appearance of a contusion of the brain. calling the boy who attended the cabin, newton, with his assistance, carried the man below, and laid him in his berth. he then repaired on deck, and took the helm, the anchor of the brig being atrip. in a quarter of an hour the sail was on her, and she followed the course steered by the men-of-war, who were about to run through the other islands, and pick up several vessels, who were waiting for their protection. "if you expect an easy berth as first mate, you are mistaken, my joker," said jackson to newton, as he steered the vessel; "you've skulked long enough, and shall now work double tides, or take the consequence. if you don't, i'll be d----d!" "i shall do my duty, mr jackson," replied newton, "and fear no consequences." "indeed! you saw how i settled a skulk just now;--beware of his fate!" "i neither anticipate it, nor fear it, mr jackson. if it comes to handspikes, two can play at that game. i rather think that before many hours are over you will be sorry for your violence, for i believe that man to be in considerable danger. even now, i should recommend you to demand surgical assistance from the frigate." "demand it, if you dare--i am captain of this ship, sir. the rascal may die--and be d----d!" to this disgusting speech newton made no reply. he had made up his mind to put up with everything short of downright aggression, and for three days more he obeyed all orders, however arbitrary and however annoying. during this period the man who had been injured became gradually worse: his illness increased rapidly; and on the fifth day he became delirious, and in a state of high fever, when newton again pointed out the propriety of asking surgical aid from one of the men-of-war. this suggestion was answered by jackson, who was now really alarmed, with a volley of oaths and execrations, ending with a flat refusal. the crew of the brig murmured, and collected together forward, looking occasionally at the men-of-war as they spoke in whispers to each other; but they were afraid of jackson's violence, and none ventured to speak out. jackson paced the deck in a state of irritation and excitement as he listened to the ravings of his victim, which were loud enough to be heard all over the vessel. as the evening closed, the men, taking the opportunity of jackson's going below, went up to newton, who was walking aft, and stated their determination that the next morning, whether the master consented to it or not, they would hail the frigate, and demand surgical assistance for their shipmate. in the midst of the colloquy, jackson, who hearing the noise of the people overhead coming aft, had a suspicion of the cause, and had been listening at the bottom of the ladder to what was said, came up the hatchway, and accusing newton of attempting to raise a mutiny, ordered him immediately to his cabin, stating his intention of sending him on board of the frigate the next morning to be placed in confinement. "i shall obey your order," replied newton, "as you are in command of this vessel. i only hope that you will adhere to your resolution of communicating with the frigate." so saying, he descended the companion hatch. but jackson, who, both from the information of the cabin-boy, and the fact that the incoherent ravings of his victim became hourly more feeble, thought himself in jeopardy, had no such intention. as the night closed in, he remained on deck, gradually taking off first one sail and then another, until the brig was left far astern of the rest of the convoy, and the next morning there was no other vessel in sight; then, on pretence of rejoining them, he made all sail, at the same time changing his course, so as to pass between two of the islands. newton was the only one on board who understood navigation besides jackson, and therefore the only one who could prove that he was escaping from the convoy. he was in confinement below; and the men, whatever may have been their suspicions, could not prove that they were not steering as they ought. about twelve o'clock on that day the poor sailor breathed his last. jackson, who was prepared for the event, had already made up his mind how to proceed. the men murmured, and proposed securing jackson as a prisoner, and offering the command to newton. they went below and made the proposal to him; but he refused, observing, that until it was proved by the laws of the land that jackson had murdered their shipmate, he was not guilty, and therefore they had no right to dispossess him of his command; and until their evidence could be taken by some of the authorities, he must remain; further pointing out to them, that as he could be seized immediately upon his arrival at an english port, or falling in with a man-of-war during their passage, the ends of justice would be equally answered, as if they committed themselves by taking the law into their own hands. the men, although not satisfied, acquiesced, and returned to their duty on deck. jackson's conduct towards them was now quite altered; he not only treated them with lenity, but supplied them with extra liquor and other indulgences, which, as captain, he could command. newton, however, he still detained under an arrest, watching him most carefully each time that he was necessitated to come on deck. the fact was, jackson, aware that his life would be forfeited to the laws of his country, had resolved to wreck the brig upon one of the reefs to the northward, then take to his boats, and escape to one of the french islands. at his instigation, the body of the man had been thrown overboard by some of the crew, when they were in a state of half intoxication. newton, who had been below four days, had retired as usual to his hammock, when a sudden shock, accompanied by the fall of the masts by the board, woke him from a sound sleep to all the horrors of shipwreck. the water pouring rapidly through the sides of the vessel, proved to him that there was no chance of escape except by the boats. the shriek, so awful when raised in the gloom of night by seamen anticipating immediate death, the hurried footsteps above him, the confusion of many voices, with the heavy blows from the waves against the side of the vessel, told him that the danger was imminent, even if escape were possible. he drew on his trousers, and rushed to the door of his cabin. merciful heaven! what was his surprise, his horror, to find that it was fastened outside. a moment's thought at the malignity of the wretch (for it was indeed jackson, who, during the night, had taken such steps for his destruction) was followed by exertions to escape. placing his shoulders against his sea-chest, and his feet against the door, his body in nearly a horizontal position, he made a violent effort to break open the door. the lock gave way, but the door did not open more than one or two inches; for jackson, to make sure, had coiled down against it a hawser which lay a few yards further forward in the steerage, the weight of which the strength of no five men could remove. maddened with the idea of perishing by such treachery, newton again exerted his frantic efforts--again and again, without success. between each pause, the voices of the seamen asking for the oars and other articles belonging to the long-boat, proved to him that every moment of delay was _a nail in his coffin_. again and again were his efforts repeated with almost superhuman strength; but the door remained fixed as ever. at last, it occurred to him that the hawser, which he had previously ascertained by passing his hand through the small aperture which he had made, might only lay against the lower part of the door, and that the upper part might be free. he applied his strength above, and found the door to yield: by repeated attempts he at last succeeded in kicking the upper panels to pieces, and having forced his body through the aperture, newton rushed on deck with the little strength he had remaining. the men--the boat--were not there: he hailed, but they heard him not; he strained his eyes--but they had disappeared in the gloom of the night; and newton, overcome with exhaustion and disappointment, fell down senseless on the deck. chapter xvii "_paladore_--i have heard, have read bold fables of enormity, devised to make men wonder, and confirm the abhorrence of our nature; but this hardness transcends all fiction." "_law of lombardy_." we must now relate what had occurred on deck during the struggle of newton to escape from his prison. at one o'clock jackson had calculated that in an hour, or less, the brig would strike on the reef. he took the helm from the man who was steering, and told him that he might go below. previous to this, he had been silently occupied in coiling the hawser before the door of newton's cabin, it being his intention to desert the brig, with the seamen, in the long-boat, and leave newton to perish. when the brig dashed upon the reef, which she did with great violence, and the crew hurried upon deck, jackson, who was calm, immediately proceeded to give the orders which he had already arranged in his mind; and the coolness with which they were given quieted the alarm of the seamen, and allowed them time to recall their scattered senses. this, however, proved unfortunate for jackson. had they all hurried in the boat at once, and shoved off, he would in all probability have been permitted to go with them, and newton, in the hurry of their self-preservation, would have been forgotten; but his cool behaviour restored their confidence, and, unhappily for him, gave the seamen time to reflect. everyone was in the boat; for jackson had quietly prepared and put into her what he considered requisite, when one of the men called out for newton. "d----n newton now!--save your own lives, my lads. quick in the boat, all of you." "not without mr newton!" cried the men, unanimously. "jump down, tom williams, and see where he is; he must sleep devilish sound." the sailor sprung down the companion-hatch, where he found the hawser coiled against the door, and heard newton struggling inside. it was enough. he hastened on deck, and told his companions; adding, that "it would take half an hour to get the poor fellow out, and that's longer than we dare stay, for in ten minutes the brig will be to pieces." "it is you, you murdering rascal, who did it!" cried the man to jackson. "i tell you what, my lads, if poor mr newton is to die, let this scoundrel keep him company." a general shout proclaimed the acquiescence of the other seamen in this act of retributive justice. jackson, with a loud oath, attempted to spring into the boat, but was repelled by the seamen; again he made the attempt, with dreadful imprecations. he was on the plane-sheer of the brig, and about to make a spring, when a blow from a handspike (the same handspike with which he had murdered the unfortunate seaman) struck him senseless, and he fell back into the lee-scuppers. the boat then shoved off, and had not gained more than two cables' lengths from the vessel, when newton effected his escape, and ran on deck, as narrated in our last chapter. the brig had now beat up so high on the reef that she remained firmly fixed upon it; and the tide having ebbed considerably, she was less exposed to the beating of the waves. the sun was also about to make his appearance, and it was broad daylight when jackson first came to his recollection. his brain whirled, his ideas were confused, and he had but a faint reminiscence of what had occurred. he felt that the water washed his feet, and with a sort of instinct he rose, and staggered up to windward. in so doing, without perceiving him, he stumbled over the body of newton, who also was roused up by the shock. a few moments passed before either could regain his scattered senses; and, at the same time, both sitting up on the deck, at about a yard distant, they discovered and recognised each other. newton was the more collected of the two, for jackson's insensibility had been occasioned by bodily--his, by mental concussion. the effect of the blow was still felt by jackson; and although recovered from the stupor, a dull, heavy sensation affected his eyesight, and confused his ideas. the sight of newton went far to recover jackson, who started up as if to grapple with the object of his hatred. newton was on his legs at the same moment, and retreating, seized upon the handspike, which lay on the deck, close to where jackson had been struck down, and placed himself in an attitude of defence. not a word was exchanged between them. they remained a few seconds in this position, when jackson, whose brain was again affected by the violence of his feelings, dropped down upon the deck in a renewed state of insensibility. newton had now time to look about him; and the prospect was anything but cheering. it was almost low water; and in every direction he perceived reefs of coral rock, and large banks of sand, with deep channels between them, through which the tide flowed rapidly. the reef upon which the brig had been grounded was of sharp coral; and, in the deeper parts, the trees could be discerned, extending a submarine forest of boughs; but it was evident that the reef upon which the vessel lay was, as well as most of the others, covered at high water. as a means of escape, a small boat was still hanging over the stern, which newton was able to manage either with her sails or her oars, as might be required. as there was no time to be lost, and the only chance of escape remained with the boat, newton commenced his arrangements. the mast and sails were found, and the latter bent;--a keg was filled with water,--a compass taken out of the binnacle,--a few pieces of beef, and some bread, collected in a bag and thrown in. he also procured some bottles of wine and cider from the cabin: these he stowed away carefully in the little locker, which was fitted under the stern-sheets of the boat. in an hour everything was ready; and throwing into her some pieces of spare rope, and a small grapnel to anchor with, there being still sufficient water alongside to float her, newton gradually lowered one tackle and then another, until the boat was safe in the water. he then hauled her up alongside, made her fast by the painter, and stepped her mast. all was now ready--but to leave jackson to be washed away by the returning tide, when the brig would unquestionably go to pieces!--newton could not do it. true, he had sought his life, and still displayed the most inveterate rancour towards him; and newton felt convinced that no future opportunity would occur that his enemy would not profit by, to insure his destruction. yet to leave him--a murderer!--with all his sins upon his soul, to be launched so unprepared into the presence of an offended creator!--it was impossible--it was contrary to his nature and to the religion which he professed. how could he hope for the divine assistance in his perilous undertaking, when he embarked on it, regardless of the precept to forgive his enemy? newton ascended to that part of the deck where jackson lay, and roused him. jackson awoke, as if from a deep sleep, and then stared at newton, who, as a precaution, held the handspike in his hand. "mr jackson," said newton, "i have roused you to let you know that the boat is now ready, and that i am going to shove off." jackson, who recollected the scene of the previous night, and perceived newton standing over him with the hand-spike, appeared wholly unnerved. in point of muscular power newton was his superior, independent of the weapon in his possession. "not without me!--not without me!" cried jackson, raising himself upon his knees. "for mercy's sake, mr newton, do not leave me to this horrid death!" "you would have left me to one even more dreadful," replied newton. "i beg your pardon!--pardon me, mr newton, i was drunk at the time--indeed i was. i don't know what i do when i'm in liquor.--don't leave me!--i'll obey your orders, and do anything you wish!--i'll wait upon you as your servant!--i will, indeed, mr newton!" "i neither ask that you will obey my orders, nor wait upon me," replied newton. "all i request is, that you will lay aside your wanton animosity, and exert yourself to save your life. for what you have already attempted against me, may god forgive you, as i do! for what you may hereafter attempt, you will find me prepared. now follow me into the boat." without further exchange of words newton, followed by jackson, went into the boat, and shoved off. the weather was moderate and the wind light. there were two islets which newton had marked, which apparently were not covered at high water, one about ten miles distant in the supposed direction of the land, for newton had shrewdly guessed the locality of the reef; and the other about two miles from the first, further out, with trees growing to the water's edge. to this latter newton proposed pulling, and waiting there until the next morning. when they were both in the boat, newton finding that the wind was contrary, unshipped the mast, and taking the foremost oar, that jackson might not sit behind him, desired him to take the other. the tide, which was now flood, and swept out to the southward, obliged them to pull at an angle to reach their intended destination. it was not until sunset that, with great exertion, they fetched the island nearest to the land, not the one that was covered with trees, as they had intended. as soon as the boat was secured, exhausted with fatigue, they both threw themselves down on the sand, where they remained for some time. having recovered a little, newton procured from the boat some of the supplies which they required, and after satisfying their hunger in silence, they both lay down to repose. newton, who was still afraid of jackson's diabolical enmity, which his silence implied to be again at work, closed his eyes, and pretended for some time to be asleep. as soon as it was dark, he rose, and first listening to the breathing of his comrade, who appeared to be in a sound slumber, he walked away from him about one hundred yards, so that it would be difficult to find him; he placed the handspike under his head for a pillow, and worn out with mental and bodily fatigue, was soon in a state of oblivion. his sleep, although profound for three or four hours, was subsequently restless. the mind, when agitated, watches for the body, and wakes it at the time when it should be on the alert. newton woke up: it was not yet daylight, and all was hushed. he turned round, intending to get up immediately; yet, yielding to the impulse of wearied nature, he again slumbered. once he thought that he heard a footstep, roused himself, and listened; but all was quiet and still, except the light wave rippling on the sand. again he was roused by a sort of grating noise; he listened, and all was quiet. a third time he was roused by a sound like the flapping of a sail: he listened--he was sure of it, and he sprang upon his feet. it was dawn of day, and as he turned his eyes towards the beach, he perceived to his horror that the boat was indeed under sail, jackson, who was in it, then just hauling aft the main-sheet, and steering away from the island. newton ran to the beach, plunged into the sea, and attempted to regain the boat; but he was soon out of his depth, and the boat running away fast through the water. he shouted to jackson as a last attempt. the scoundrel waved his hand in ironical adieu, and continued his course. "treacherous villain!" mentally exclaimed newton, as his eyes followed the boat. "was it for this that i preserved your life, in return for your attempts on mine? here, then, must i die of starvation!--god's will be done!" exclaimed he aloud, as he sat down on the beach, and covered his face with his hands. chapter xviii "for now i stand as one upon a rock, environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him." shakespeare. the tide was on the ebb when newton was left in this desolate situation. after some minutes passed in bitterness of spirit, his natural courage returned; and, although the chance of preservation was next to hopeless, newton rose up, resolved that he would use his best efforts, and trust to providence for their success. his first idea was to examine the beach, and see if jackson had left him any portion of the provisions which he had put into the boat; but there was nothing. he then walked along the beach, following the receding tide, with the hope of collecting any shell-fish which might be left upon the sands; but here again he was disappointed. it was evident, therefore, that to stay on this islet was to starve; his only chance appeared to remain in his capability of reaching the islet next to it, which, as we have before mentioned, was covered with trees. there, at least, he might find some means of sustenance, and be able with the wood to make a raft, if nothing better should turn up in his favour. the tide swept down towards the islet, but it ran so strong that there was a chance of his being carried past it; he therefore determined to wait for an hour or two, until the strength of the current was diminished, and then make the attempt. this interval was passed in strengthening his mind against the horror of the almost positive death which stared him in the face. it was about an hour before low water that newton walked into the sea, and, commending himself to providence, struck out for the islet, keeping his course well to windward, to allow for the tide sweeping him down. to use a nautical phrase, he "held his own" extremely well, until he reached the centre of the channel, where the water ran with great velocity, and bore him down rapidly with the stream. newton struggled hard; for he was aware that the strength of the current once passed, his labour would be comparatively easy; and so it proved: as he neared the shore of the islet, he made good way; but he had been carried down so far when in the centre of the stream that it became a nice point, even to the calculation of hope, whether he would fetch the extreme point of the islet. newton redoubled his exertions, when, within thirty yards of the shore, an eddy assisted him, and he made sure of success; but when within ten yards, a counter current again caught him, and swept him down. he was now abreast of the very extreme point of the islet; a bush that hung over the water was his only hope; with three or four desperate strokes he exhausted his remaining strength, at the same time that he seized hold of a small bough. it was decayed--snapped asunder, and newton was whirled away by the current into the broad ocean. how constantly do we find people running into real danger to avoid imaginary evil! a mother will not permit her child to go to sea, lest it should be drowned, and a few days afterwards it is kicked to death by a horse. had the child been permitted to go afloat, he might have lived and run through the usual term of existence. wherever we are, or wherever we may go, there is death awaiting us in some shape or another, sooner or later; and there is as much danger in walking through the streets of london as in ploughing the foaming ocean. every tile over our heads contains a death within it as certain, if it were to fall upon us, as that occasioned by the angry surge which swallows us up in its wrath. i believe, after all, that as many sailors, in proportion, run out their allotted span as the rest of the world that are engaged in other apparently less dangerous professions; although it must be acknowledged that occasionally we do become food for fishes. "there is a tide in the affairs of men," says shakespeare; but, certainly, of all the tides that ever interfered in a man's prospects, that which swept away newton forster appeared to be the least likely to "lead to fortune." such, however, was the case. had newton gained the islet which he coveted, he would have perished miserably; whereas it will soon appear that, although his sufferings are not yet ended, his being carried away was the most fortunate circumstance which could have occurred, and proved the means of his ultimate preservation. newton had resigned himself to his fate. he ceased from further exertion, except such as was necessary to keep him above water a little longer. throwing himself on his back, he appealed to heaven for pardon, as he floated away with the stream. that newton had as few errors and follies to answer for as most people, is most certain; yet even the most perfect soon run up a long account. during our lives our sins are forgotten, as is the time at which they were committed; but when death is certain, or appears to be so, it is then that the memory becomes most horribly perfect, and each item of our monstrous bill requires but a few seconds to be read, and to be acknowledged as too correct. this is the horror of death; this it is which makes the body struggle to retain the soul, already pluming herself and rustling her wings, impatient for her flight. this it is which constitutes the pang of separation, as the enfeebled body gradually relaxes its hold, and--all is over, at least on this side of the grave. newton's strength was exhausted; his eyes were fixed on the clear blue sky, as if to bid it farewell; and, resigned to his fate, he was about to give over the last few painful efforts which he was aware could only prolong, not save his life, when he received a blow on his shoulders under the water. imagining that it proceeded from the tail of a shark, or of some other of the ravenous monsters of the deep, which abound among these islands, and that the next moment his body would be severed in half, he uttered a faint cry at the accumulated horror of his death; but the next moment his legs were swung round by the current, and he perceived, to his astonishment, that he was aground upon one of the sand-banks which abounded on the reef, and over which the tide was running with the velocity of a sluice. he floundered, then rose, and found himself in about one foot of water. the ebb-tide was nearly finished; and this was one of the banks which never showed itself above water, except during the full and change of the moon. it was now about nine o'clock in the morning, and the sun shone with great power. newton, faint from want of sustenance, hardly knew whether to consider this temporary respite as an advantage. he knew that the tide would soon flow again, and he felt that his strength was too much spent to enable him to swim back to the islet which he had missed when he had attempted to reach it, and which was more than two miles from the bank upon which he then stood. what chance had he, then, but to be swept away by the return of the tide? he almost regretted that it had not been a shark instead of the sand-bank which had struck him; he would then have been spared a few hours of protracted misery. as newton had foreseen, the ebb-tide was soon over; a short pause of "slack water" ensued, and there was an evident and rapid increase of the water around him: the wind, too, freshened, and the surface of the ocean was in strong ripples. as the water deepened, so did the waves increase in size: every moment added to his despair. he had now remained about four hours on the bank! the water had risen to underneath his arms, the waves nearly lifted him off his feet, and it was with difficulty that he could retain his position. hope deserted him, and his senses became confused. he thought that he saw green fields, and cities, and inhabitants. his reason was departing; he saw his father coming down to him with the tide, and called to him for help, when the actual sight of something recalled him from his temporary aberration. there was a dark object upon the water, evidently approaching. his respiration was almost suspended as he watched its coming. at last he distinguished that it must either be a whale asleep, or a boat bottom up. fortunately for newton, it proved to be the latter. at last it was brought down by the tide to within a few yards of him, and appeared to be checked. newton dashed out towards the boat, and in a minute was safely astride upon it. as soon as he had recovered a little from his agitation, he perceived that it was the very boat belonging to the brig, in which jackson had so treacherously deserted and left him on the island! at three o'clock it was high water, and at five the water had again retreated, so that newton could quit his station on the bottom of the boat, and walk round her. he then righted her, and discovered that the mast had been carried away close to the step, but, with the sail, still remained fast to the boat by the main-sheet, which had jammed on the belaying pin, so that it still was serviceable. everything else had been lost out of the boat, except the grapnel, which had been bent, and which hanging down in the water, from the boat being capsized, had brought it up when it was floated on the sand-bank. newton, who had neither eaten nor drunk since the night before, was again in despair, tormented as he was by insufferable thirst: when he observed that the locker under the stern-sheets was closed. he hastened to pull it open, and found that the bottles of wine and cider which he had deposited there were remaining. a bottle of the latter was soon poured down his throat, and newton felt as if restored to his former vigour. at seven o'clock in the evening the boat was nearly high and dry. newton baled her out, and, fixing the grapnel firmly in the sand, lay down to sleep in the stern-sheets, covered over with the sail. his sleep was so sound that he did not wake until six o'clock the next morning; when the boat was again aground. he refreshed himself with some wine, and meditated upon his prospect. thanking heaven for a renewed chance of escape, and lamenting over the fate of the unprepared jackson, who had evidently been upset, from the main-sheet having been jammed, newton resolved to make for one of the english isles, which he knew to be about two hundred miles distant. the oars had been lost, but the rudder of the boat was fortunately made fast by a pennant. in the afternoon he drew up his grapnel, and made sail in the direction, as well as he could judge from the position of the sun, to the english isles. as the night closed in, he watched the stars, and steered his course by them. the next day came, and, although the boat sailed well, and went fast before a free wind, no land was in sight. newton had again recourse to the cider and the wine. the second night he could hardly keep his eyes open; yet, wearied as he was, he still continued his course, and never quitted his helm. the day again dawned, and newton's strength was gone, from constant watching; still he bore up against it, until the sun had set. no land was yet to be seen, and sleep overpowered him. he took a hitch of the main-sheet round his finger, that, should the breeze freshen, he might be roused, in case he should go to sleep; and, having taken this precaution, in a few minutes the boat _was steering herself_. chapter xix "but man, proud man, dress'd in a little brief authority, most ignorant of what he's most assured, his glassy essence, like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven." shakespeare. the reef upon which the brig had been wrecked was one of those extending along the southward of the virgin isles. newton had intended to steer well to the eastward, with the view of reaching one of the northernmost english colonies; but not having a compass, he naturally was not very equal in his course. the fact was that he steered well to the southward of it; and after he fell asleep, the boat ran away still further off her course, for she was on the larboard tack, and having no weight in her except newton, who was aft in the stern-sheets, she did not feel inclined to keep her wind. newton's sleep was so profound, that neither the pulling of the main-sheet, which he held with a round turn round his hand, nor the dancing of the boat, which during the night had run fast before an increasing breeze, roused him from his lethargy. on sailed the boat, left to the steerage of providence; on slept newton, as if putting firm reliance in the same. it was not until the break of day that his repose was very abruptly broken by a shock, which threw him from the stern-sheets of the boat, right over the aftermost thwart. newton recovered his legs, and his senses, and found himself alongside of a vessel. he had run stem on to a small schooner, which was lying at anchor. as the boat was drifting fast by, newton made a spring, and gained the deck of the vessel. "ah! mon dieu!--les anglais--les anglais--nous sommes prisonniers!" cried out the only man on deck, jumping on his feet, and making a precipitate dive below. the vessel, of which newton had thus taken possession, was one employed in carrying the sugars from the plantations round to basse terre, the port of guadaloupe, there to be shipped for europe,--newton's boat having run away so far to the southward, as to make this island. she was lying at anchor off the mouth of a small river, waiting for a cargo. it happened that the crew of the schooner, who were all slaves, were exactly in the same situation as newton, when their vessels came in contact--viz., fast asleep. the shock had awakened them; but they were all below except the one who had kept such a remarkably good watch. exhausted as newton was, he could not but smile at his uninterrupted possession of the vessel's decks. anxious to have communication with the people on board, he sat down, awaiting their coming up from below. in a minute or two, a black head was seen to rise slowly and fearfully out of the fore-scuttle; then it disappeared. another rose up and went down again as before; and thus it went on until newton reckoned ten different faces. having individually ascertained that there was but one man, and that one not provided with any weapons, the negroes assumed a degree of courage. the first head that had made its appearance, the woolly hair of which was of a grizzly gray from age, was again popped up the fore-scuttle, with an interrogatory to newton, in french, who he was, and what he wanted? newton, who did not understand a word of the language, shook his head, and, opening his hands and extending his arms, to show that he had no means of defence, he beckoned to them to come up. the man's head had again disappeared, and, after a little demur, nine or ten negroes crawled up out of the fore-scuttle, one after another, each with some weapon or another by way of security. they remained on the forecastle of the vessel until the last was up; and then at a nod given by their grizzle-headed leader, they advanced aft in a body towards newton. newton rose and pointed to the boat, which had now drifted about a quarter of a mile astern. he then made signs to give them to understand that he had been wrecked. "apparemment c'est un pauvre misérable, qui a fait naufrage," observed the old negro, who appeared to have the charge of the vessel; "gustave adolphe, tu parles bien l'anglais; demandez-lui les nouvelles," continued the old man, folding his arms across, and looking very _big_ indeed, as he reclined against the mainmast of the vessel. gustave adolphe stood forward from the rest of the negroes. he was a short, fat, shiny-faced fellow, with his hair platted into about fifty little tails. he first bowed to his old commander, then placing his arms akimbo, walked up to newton, and looking him full in the face, commenced his duty of interpreter, as follows:-- "i say--god dam--" newton smiled. "oui, monsieur, c'est un anglais." "continuez, gustave adolphe," replied the old negro, with a majestic air. gustave adolphe, with another bow, resumed: "i say--where com?" "barbadoes," replied newton. "monsieur, il vient de barbadoes." "continuez, gustave adolphe," replied his superior, with a wave of his hand. "i say--where go?" "where go?" replied newton, "go to the bottom." "monsieur, il allait au port de bo--tom." "bo--tom," repeated the old negro. "où diable est ça?" here a general consultation was held, by which it appeared that such a port had never been heard of in the west indies. "gustave adolphe, demandez-lui si c'est un port anglais." "i say--bo--tom--english port?" "no," replied newton, amused with the mistake; "i should rather call it _neutral_." "c'est un port neutral, monsieur." "gustave adolphe, demandez-lui de quelle île." "i say, what isle--bo--tom?" newton, who was faint with hunger and thirst, was not inclined at the moment to continue the conversation, which otherwise would have been a source of amusement. he replied by making signs that he wished to eat and drink. "monsieur," said gustave adolphe to the old negro, "le prisonnier refuse de faire réponse, et demande à manger et à boire." "va l'en chercher, gustave adolphe," replied the old man. "allons, messieurs," continued he, addressing the other negroes. "il faut lever l'ancre de suite, et amener notre prisonnier aux autorités; charles philippe, va chercher mon porte-voix." the negro captain walked up and down the deck of the schooner, a vessel about thirty feet long, until charles philippe made his appearance with the speaking-trumpet. he then proceeded to get the vessel under weigh, with more noise and fuss than is to be heard when the proudest three-decker in the english navy expands her lofty canvas to the gale. gustave adolphe, in obedience to the commands he had received, brought up to newton a bunch of bananas, a large piece of salt fish, and a calabash of water. the latter was immediately applied to his lips, and never removed while a drop remained, much to the astonishment of the negro, who again sported his english. "i say--very good--ab more?" "if you please," replied newton. "monsieur," said gustave adolphe to his commander, "le prisonnier a soif, et demande encore de l'eau." "va l'en chercher donc," replied the old negro, with a wave of his speaking-trumpet. "charles philippe, attention à la barre,[ ] sans venir au vent, s'il vous plaît. matelots[ ] du gaillard d'avant," continued he, roaring through his speaking-trumpet! "bordez le grand foc." [footnote : mind your weather-helm.] [footnote : forecastlemen, haul aft the jib-sheet.] in the space of two hours, the schooner was brought to an anchor, with as much noise and importance as she had been got under weigh. a boat capable of holding three people--one rower and two sitters--was shoved off the vessel's deck, and the negro captain, having first descended to his cabin for a few minutes, returned on deck dressed in the extremity of _their_ fashion, and ordered the boat to be manned. gustave adolphe accordingly manned the boat with his own person, and the negro captain politely waved his hand for newton to enter; and then, following himself, gustave adolphe rowed to a landing-place, about twenty yards from the schooner. "gustave adolphe, suivez en arrière, et gardez bien que le prisonnier n'échappe pas;" so saying, monsieur le capitaine led the way to a large white house and buildings, about two hundred yards from the river's banks. on their arrival, newton was surrounded by twenty or thirty slaves of both sexes, who chattered and jabbered a thousand questions concerning him to the negro captain and gustave adolphe, neither of whom condescended to reply. "monsieur de fontanges--où est-il?" inquired the old negro. "monsieur dort," replied a little female voice. the captain was taken aback at this unfortunate circumstance; for no one dared to wake their master. "et madame?" inquired he. "madame est dans sa chambre." there again he was floored--he could not venture there; so he conducted newton, who was not very sorry to escape from the burning rays of the sun, to his own habitation, where an old negress, his wife, soon obtained from the negro that information relative to the capture of newton which the bevy of slaves in the yard had attempted in vain--but wives have such winning ways with them! chapter xx "what elegance and grandeur wide expand, the pride of turkey and of persia land! soft quilts on quilts, on carpets carpets spread, and couches stretch'd around in seemly band, and endless pillows rise to prop the head. * * * * * here languid beauty kept her pale-faced court." thomson. the female slaves who could not obtain the history of newton immediately repaired to the chamber of their mistress, knowing that if they could succeed in raising her curiosity, they would at the same time gratify their own. madame de fontanges was, as they asserted, in her chamber, or, what may now be more correctly styled, her boudoir. it was a room about fourteen feet square, the sides of which were covered with a beautiful paper, representing portions of the history of paul and virginia: the floor was covered with fine matting, with here and there a small persian carpet above it. small marble tables were decorated with a variety of ornaments and french perfumes, or vases filled with the splendid flowers of a tropical clime. there was a large window at each end of the room, cut down to the ground, in the french fashion; and outside of both was a little balcony--the trellice-work covered with passion-flower and clematis. the doors and other compartments of the room were not papered, but had french mirrors let into the pannelling. on a low ottoman of elegant workmanship, covered with a damasked french silk, reposed madame de fontanges, attended by three or four young female slaves, of different complexions, but none of pure african blood. others were seated upon the different persian carpets about the room, in listless idleness, or strewing the petals of the orange-flower, to perfume the apartment with its odour. the only negro was a little boy, about six years of age, dressed in a fantastic costume, who sat in a corner, apparently in a very sulky humour. madame de fontanges was a creole,--that is, born in the west indies of french parents. she had been sent home to france for her education, and had returned at the age of fourteen to guadaloupe, where she soon after married monsieur de fontanges, an officer of rank, and brother to the governor of the island. her form was diminutive, but most perfect; her hand and arm models for the statuary; while her feet were so small as almost to excite risibility when you observed them. her features were regular, and when raised from her usual listlessness, full of expression. large hazel eyes, beautifully pencilled eyebrows, with long fringed eyelashes, dark and luxuriant hair, grecian nose, small mouth, with thin coral lips, were set off by a complexion which even the climate could not destroy, although it softened it into extreme delicacy. such was the person of madame de fontanges, now about eighteen years old, and one of the most beautiful specimens of the french creole which could be imagined. her perfect little figure needed no support; she was simply attired in a muslin _robe de chambre_, as she reposed upon the ottoman, waiting with all the impatience of her caste for the setting in of the sea-breeze, which would give some relief from the oppressive heat of the climate. "�ventez! nina, éventez!" cried she to one of her attendants, who was standing at the head of the sofa with a large feather fan. "oui, madame," replied the girl, stirring up the dormant atmosphere. "�ventez! caroline, éventez mes mains, vite." "oui, madame," replied the second, working away with another fan. "�ventez! éventez mes pieds, mimi." "oui, madame," replied the third, fanning in the direction pointed out. "louise," said madame de fontanges, languidly, after a short pause, "apportez-moi de l'eau sucrée." "oui, madame," replied another, rising, in obedience to the order. "non, non! je n'en veux pas--mais j'ai soif horrible. manchette, va chercher de l'eau cerise." "oui, madame," replied manchette, rising from her seat. but she had not quitted the room before madame de fontanges had changed her mind. "attendez, manchette. ce n'est pas ça. je voudrais de limonade. charlotte, va l'en chercher." "oui, madame," said charlotte, leaving the room to execute the order. "ah, mon dieu! qu'il fait une chaleur épouvantable. "mimi, que tu es paresseuse? eventez! vite, vite. "où est monsieur?" "monsieur dort." "ah! qu'il est heureux. et cupidon--où est-il?" "ii est ici, au coin, madame. il boude." "qu'est-ce qu'il a fait donc?" "ah, madame! il a volé le dindon rôti, et l'a tout mangé." "ah, le petit polisson! venez ici, cupidon." cupidon, the little negro-boy we have before mentioned as sitting in the corner of the room, walked up with a very deliberate pace to the side of the ottoman, his two thick lips sticking out about six inches in advance of the remainder of his person. "cupidon," said the lady, turning a little on one side to speak to him, "tu as mangé le dindon entier. tu as mal fait, mon ami. tu seras malade. comprends-tu, cupidon, c'est une sottise que tu as fait?" cupidon made no reply; his head was hung down a little lower, and his lips extended a little further out. "sache que tu es un petite voleur!" continued his mistress. cupidon did not condescend to answer. "allez, monsieur; ne m'approchez pas." cupidon turned short round without reply, and walked back to his corner with the same deliberate pace as before, when he came out of it. charlotte now returned with the lemonade for which she had been despatched, and informed her mistress as she presented it, that nicholas, who had charge of the schooner, had returned with an european prisoner; but that neither he nor gustave would give her any further information, although she had requested it in the name of her mistress. this was quite an event, and gave a fillip to the inertness of madame de fontanges, whose curiosity was excited. "a-t-il bonne mine, charlotte?" "oui, madame, c'est un bel homme." "et où est-il?" "avec nicholas." "et monsieur?" "monsieur dort." "il faut l'éveiller. faites bien mes compliments au monsieur de fontanges, et dites-lui que je me trouve fort malade, et que je voudrais lui parier. entends-tu, céleste; je parle à toi." "oui, madame," replied the girl, throwing some orange flowers off her lap, and rising to deliver her message. m. de fontanges, who, like most of the europeans, slept through the hottest portion of the day, rose in compliance with his wife's message, and made his appearance in the boudoir, dressed in a white cotton jacket and trousers. a few polite inquiries after the health of madame de fontanges, which, as he had conjectured from similar previous occurrences, was not worse than usual, were followed by his receiving from her the information of newton's arrival, coupled with an observation, that it would amuse her if the prisoner were interrogated in her presence. newton was summoned to the boudoir, where m. de fontanges, who spoke very good english, received from him the history of his disasters, and translated them into french, to gratify the curiosity of his wife. "c'est un beau garçon," observed m. de fontanges. "mais que faire? il est prisonnier. il faut l'envoyer à mon frère, le gouverneur." "il est joli garçon," replied madame de fontanges. "donnez-lui des habits, fontanges; et ne l'envoyez pas encore." "et pourquoi, mon amie?" "je voudrais lui apprendre le français." "cela ne se peut pas, ma chère; il est prisonnier." "cela se peut, monsieur de fontanges," replied the lady. "je n'ose pas," continued the husband. "moi j'ose," replied the lady, decidedly. "je ne voudrais pas," said the gentleman. "moi, je veux," interrupted the lady. "mais il faut être raisonnable, madame." "ii faut m'obéir, monsieur." "mais------" "pschut!" replied the lady; "c'est une affaire décidée. monsieur le gouverneur ne parle pas l'anglais. c'est _absolument nécessaire_ que le jeune homme apprenne notre langue; et c'est mon plaisir de l'enseigner. au revoir, monsieur de fontanges. charlotte, va chercher des habits." chapter xxi "'tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue by female lips and eyes; that is, i mean when both the teacher and the taught are young, as was the case, at least, where i had been. they smile so when one's right, and when one's wrong they smile still more." byron. m. de fontanges, aware of the impetuosity and caprice of his wife (at the same time that he acknowledged her many redeeming good qualities), did not further attempt to thwart her inclinations. his great objection to her plan was the impropriety of retaining a prisoner whom he was bound to give up to the proper authorities. he made a virtue of necessity, and having acquainted newton with the wish of madame de fontanges, requested his parole of honour that he would not attempt to escape, if he was not delivered up to the authorities, and remain some time at lieu désiré. newton, who had no wish to be acquainted with a french _cachot_ sooner than it was absolutely necessary, gave the promise required by m. de fontanges, assuring him that ingratitude was not a part of his character. m. de fontanges then requested that newton would accept of a portion of his wardrobe, which he would direct to be sent to the room that would be prepared for him. this affair being arranged, newton made his bow to the lady, and in company with m. de fontanges, retired from the boudoir. it may be suspected by the reader, that madame de fontanges was one of those ladies who cared a great deal about having her own way, and very little for her husband. as to the first part of the accusation, i can only observe, that i never yet had the fortune to fall in with any lady who did not try all she could to have her own way, nor do i conceive it to be a crime. as to the second, if the reader has formed that supposition, he is much mistaken. madame de fontanges was very much attached to her husband, and the attachment as well as the confidence was reciprocal. it was not, therefore, from any feeling of jealousy that m. de fontanges had combated her resolution; but, as we have before observed, from a conviction that he was wanting in his duty, when he did not report the arrival of newton at the plantation. the wish of madame de fontanges to detain newton was, as she had declared, a caprice on her part, which had entered her head, to amuse herself by teaching him french. it is true that had not newton been remarkably prepossessing in his appearance, the idea would in all probability have never been conceived; but, observing that he was much above the common class, and wishing to relieve the general monotony of her life by anything which would create amusement, she had formed the idea, which, when combated by her husband, was immediately strengthened to a resolution. of this newton received the benefit. an excellent dinner or rather supper with m. de fontanges, a comfortable bed in a room supplied with all that convenience or luxury could demand, enabled him to pass a very different night from those which we have lately described. about twelve o'clock the ensuing day, newton was summoned by one of the slave girls to the boudoir of madame de fontanges. he found her on the ottoman, as before. newton, who had been operated upon by a black barber, and was dressed in the habiliments of m. de fontanges, made a much more respectable appearance than upon his former introduction. "bon jour, monsieur," said the lady. newton bowed respectfully. "comment vous appelez-vous?" newton, not understanding, answered with another bow. "le jeune homme n'entends pas, madame," observed mimi. "que c'est ennuyant. monsieur," said madame fontanges, pointing to herself, "moi,--madame de fontanges: vous?" pointing to him. "newton forster." "nu-tong fasta--ah, c'est bon; cela commence," said the lady. "allons, mes enfans, répétez-lui tous vos noms." "moi--mimi," said the girl bearing that name, going up to newton, and pointing to herself. "mimi," repeated newton, with a smile and nod of his head. "moi--charlotte." "moi--louise." "moi--céleste." "moi--nina." "moi--caroline." "moi--manchette." "et moi--cupidon," finished the little black boy, running up, and then retreating as fast back into his corner. newton repeated all the names, as the individuals respectively introduced themselves to him. then there was a pause, during which, at the desire of madame de fontanges, newton was offered a chair, and sat down. "allons, dites-lui les noms de toute la garniture," said madame de fontanges to her attendants. "oui, madame," said mimi, going up to newton, and, pointing to the fan in her hand,--"éventail." "�ventail," repeated newton, who began to be amused, and who now repeated every french word after them. "flaçon," said charlotte, showing him the eau-de-cologne bottle. "chaise," cried louise, holding up a chair. "livre," said nina, pointing to a book. "mouchoir," said caroline, holding up an embroidered handkerchief. "montre," followed up manchette, pointing to her mistress's watch. "canapé," cried céleste, pointing to the ottoman. "joli garçon," bawled out cupidon, coming up to newton, and pointing to himself. this created a laugh, and then the lesson was continued. every article in the room was successively pointed out to newton, and he was obliged to repeat the name; and afterwards the articles of their dress were resorted to, much to his amusement. then, there was a dead stand:--the fact is that there is no talking with noun substantives only. "ah! mon dieu! il faut envoyer pour monsieur de fontanges," cried the lady; "va le chercher, louise." m. de fontanges soon made his appearance, when the lady explained to him their dilemma, and requested his assistance. m de fontanges laughed, and explained to newton, and then, by means of his interpretation, connected sentences were made, according to the fancy of the lady, some of which were the cause of great merriment. after an hour, the gentlemen made their bows. "i think," observed m. de fontanges, as they walked away, "that if you really are as anxious to learn our language as madame is to teach you, you had better come to me every morning for an hour. i shall have great pleasure in giving you any assistance in my power, and i trust that in a very short time, with a little study of the grammar and dictionary, you will be able to hold a conversation with madame de fontanges, or even with her dark-complexioned page." newton expressed his acknowledgments, and the next day he received his first lesson; after which he was summoned to support the theory by practice in the boudoir of madame de fontanges. it is hardly necessary to observe that each day increased the facility of communication. for three months newton was domiciled with monsieur and madame fontanges, both of whom had gradually formed such an attachment to him, that the idea of parting never entered their heads. he was now a very tolerable french scholar, and his narratives and adventures were to his benefactors a source of amusement, which amply repaid them for the trouble and kindness which they had shown to him. newton was, in fact, a general favourite with every one on the plantation, from the highest to the lowest; and his presence received the same smile of welcome at the cottage of the slave as at the boudoir of madame de fontanges. whatever may have been the result of newton's observations relative to slavery in the english colonies, his feelings of dislike insensibly wore away during his residence at lieu désiré; there he was at least convinced that a slave might be perfectly happy. it must be acknowledged that the french have invariably proved the kindest and most considerate of masters, and the state of bondage is much mitigated in the islands which appertain to that nation. the reason is obvious: in france, there is a _bonhommie_, a degree of equality, established between the different grades of society by universal politeness. a french servant is familiar with his master at the same time that he is respectful: and the master, in return, condescends to his inferior without forgetting their relative positions. this runs through society in general: and as no one can well be polite without some good-nature (for politeness, frivolous as it may appear, is a strong check upon those feelings of selfishness too apt to be indulged in), it leads to a general feeling of good-will towards others. this has naturally been practised by frenchmen wherever they may be; and the consequence is that the slaves are treated with more consideration, and, in return, have warmer feelings of attachment towards their owners than are to be found in colonies belonging to other nations. newton perceived and acknowledged this, and, comparing the condition of the people at lieu désiré with that of most of the peasantry of europe, was unwillingly obliged to confess that the former were in every respect the more fortunate and the more happy of the two. one morning, soon after newton had breakfasted with m. de fontanges, and had been summoned to the boudoir, a letter was brought in. it was from the governor to m. de fontanges, stating that he had heard with great surprise that m. de fontanges concealed an english prisoner in his house, and desiring that he might be immediately sent up to head-quarters. that there might be no delay or refusal, a corporal, accompanied by two file of men, brought down the intimation to the plantation. newton was in the very middle of a long story, madame de fontanges on the ottoman, and her attendants collected round her, seated on the floor--even cupidon had advanced from his corner to within half-distance, his mouth and eyes wide open, when m. de fontanges entered the boudoir, with anxiety and chagrin expressed in his countenance. "qu'est-ce qu'il y a, mon ami?" said madame de fontanges, rising hastily, and running up to her husband. m. de fontanges answered by putting the governor's letter into his wife's hands. "ah! les barbares!" cried madame de fontanges; "est-il possible? pauvre monsieur nutong! on l'amène au cachôt." "au cachôt!" cried all the coloured girls at a breath and bursting into tears--"oh, ciel!" m. de fontanges then explained to newton the order which he had received. newton replied that he had had no right to expect otherwise on his first landing on the island; that he had incurred a heavy debt of gratitude to them for having preserved him so long from a prison; and that the remembrance of their kindness would tend to beguile the tedious hours of captivity (from which it may appear that newton, in point of expressing himself, was half a frenchman already). he then kissed the hand of madame de fontanges, tried to console the little slave girls, who were all _au désespoir_, patted cupidon on the head, by way of farewell, and quitted the boudoir, in which he had passed so many happy hours. when he was outside, he again expressed his obligations to m. de fontanges, who then stated his determination to call upon his brother, the governor, and try to allieviate the hardships of his lot as much as was possible. in less than an hour, newton, in company with his host, was on the road to basse terre, leaving the corporal and his two file of men to walk back as fast as they could; the corporal having sufficient _savoir vivre_ not to refuse the pledge of the governor's brother for the safe delivery of the prisoner. it was not until late in the evening that they arrived at basse terre, when they immediately proceeded to the house of the governor, and were admitted to his presence. the governor, who had been much displeased at the circumstance of newton having remained so long on the island, was more pacified when m. de fontanges explained to him the way in which he had been made prisoner, and the hardships which he had previously endured. m. de fontanges accounted for his long detention at lieu désiré by stating the real fact, viz., the pertinacity of madame de fontanges; which, although it might have been considered a very poor argument in england, had its due weight in a french colony. the governor entered into conversation with newton, who detailed to him the horrors of the shipwreck which he had undergone. the narrative appeared to affect him much. he told newton that under such circumstances he could hardly consider him as a prisoner, and would take the first opportunity of releasing him, and would accept his parole for not quitting the island. newton returned his thanks for so much courtesy, and withdrew in company with m. de fontanges. "monsieur le marquis has much sympathy for those who have been shipwrecked," observed monsieur de fontanges, after they had quitted the room. "poor man! he lost his wife, a beautiful young woman, and his only child, a little girl, about seven years back, when they were proceeding home in a vessel bound to havre. the vessel has never been heard of since, and he has never recovered the loss." "in what year was it?" inquired newton. "in the autumn of the year--" "there were many vessels wrecked on our coast during that dreadful winter," replied newton; "i myself, when in a coaster, picked up several articles belonging to a french vessel. i have them in my possession now;--they are of some value." "what did they consist of?" inquired monsieur de fontanges. "a large trunk, containing the wearing apparel of a female and a child: there were also several orders of knighthood, and some jewels; but i hardly know what they were, as it is some time since i have looked at them." "how strange that you could find no clue to discover the names of the parties!" "there were french letters," replied newton, "which i could not read; they were only signed by initials, which did not correspond with the marks on the linen belonging to the lady, although the surname might have been the same as that of the child." "do you recollect the initials?" "perfectly well: the marks on the lady's apparel were l.c., that on the linen of the infant j.f." "mon dieu! mon dieu!" cried monsieur de fontanges; "then it may indeed have been the apparel of the marquise de fontanges. the linen must have been some marked with her maiden name, which was louise de colmar. the child was christened julie de fontanges, after her grandmother. my poor brother had intended to take his passage home in the same vessel, his successor being hourly expected; but the frigate in which the new governor had embarked was taken by an english squadron, and my brother was forced to remain here." "then the property must undoubtedly belong to the marquis," replied newton: "i only wish i could have been able to assure him that his wife and child were equally safe; but that i am afraid is impossible, as there can be no doubt but that they were all lost. do you mean to communicate what i have told you to the marquis?" "by no means: it will only tear open a wound which has but partially healed. if you will send me all the particulars when you return i shall feel much obliged, not that the effects are of any consequence. the marquise and her child are undoubtedly lost; and it could be no consolation to my brother to ascertain that a trunk of their effects had been saved." here the conversation dropped, and was never again renewed. newton was heartily welcomed again at lieu désiré, where he remained three weeks, when a note from the governor informed him that a cartel was about to sail. it was with mutual pain that newton and his kind friends took their farewell of each other. in this instance m. de fontanges did not accompany him to basse terre, but bade him adieu at his own door. newton, soon after he was on the road, perceived that m. de fontanges had acted from a motive of delicacy, that he might not receive the thanks of newton for two valises, well furnished, which overtook newton about a quarter of a mile from the plantation, slung on each side of a horse, under the guidance of a little negro, perched on the middle. newton made his acknowledgments to the governor for his kind consideration, then embarked on board of the _marie thérèse_ schooner, and in three days he once more found himself on shore in an english colony; with which piece of information i conclude this chapter. chapter xxii "mercy on us! a bairn, a very pretty bairn, a boy, a child." shakespeare. when newton was landed from the cartel at jamaica, he found the advantage of not being clad in the garb of a sailor, as all those who were in such costume were immediately handed over to the admiral of the station, to celebrate their restoration to liberty on board of a man-of-war; but the clothes supplied to him by the generosity of m. de fontanges had anything but a maritime appearance, and newton was landed with his portmanteaus by one of the man-of-war's boats, whose crew had little idea of his being a person so peculiarly suited to their views, possessing as he did the necessary qualifications of youth, activity, and a thorough knowledge of his profession. newton was so anxious to return home, that after a few days' expensive sojourn at an hotel, frequented chiefly by the officers of the man-of-war in port, he resolved to apply to the captain of a frigate ordered home with despatches, to permit him to take a passage. he had formed a slight intimacy with some of the officers, who assured him that he would experience no difficulty in obtaining his request. his application was made in person; and after his statement that he had been released in the last cartel which had come from guadaloupe, his request was immediately granted, without any further questions being put relative to his profession, or the manner in which he had been captured. the captain very civilly gave him to understand that he might mess with the gun-room officers, if he could arrange with them, and that he expected to sail on the evening of the ensuing day. newton immediately repaired on board of the frigate, to ascertain if the officers would receive him as a messmate; and further, whether the amount of his mess-money would be more than he could in prudence afford. at the bottom of one of the portmanteaus he had found a bag of two hundred dollars, supplied by his generous host, and in the same bag there was also deposited a small note from madame de fontanges, wishing him success, and enclosing (as a _souvenir_) a ring, which he had often perceived on her finger; but, adequate as was this supply to his own wants, newton did not forget that his father was, in all probability, in great distress, and would require his assistance on his return. he was, therefore, naturally anxious not to expend more than was absolutely necessary in defraying his passage. the old first lieutenant, to whom, upon his arrival on board, he was introduced as commanding officer, received him with much urbanity; and, when newton stated that he had obtained the captain's permission to make the application, immediately acceded to his wishes on the part of his messmates as well as of himself, when newton followed up his application, by requesting to know the expense which he would incur, as, in case of its being greater than his finances could meet, he would request permission to choose a less expensive mess. "i am aware," replied the veteran, "that those who have been shipwrecked, and in a french prison, are not likely to be very flush of cash. it is, however, a point on which i must consult my messmates. excuse me one moment, and i will bring you an answer: i have no doubt but that it will be satisfactorily arranged; but there is nothing like settling these points at once. mr webster, see that the lighter shoves off the moment that she is clear," continued the first lieutenant to one of the midshipmen as he descended the quarter-deck ladder, leaving newton to walk the quarter-deck. in a few minutes the first lieutenant reappeared, with one or two officers of the gun-room mess, who greeted him most cordially. "i have seen all that are requisite," said he to newton. "two i have not spoken to, the master and the purser; they are both poor men with families. if, therefore, you will not be too proud to accept it, i am requested to offer you a free passage from the other officers of the mess, as we feel convinced that your company will more than repay us. the proportion of the expense of your passage to the other two will be but one or two pounds; a trifle, indeed, but still of consequence to them; and that is the only expense which you will incur. if you can afford to pay that, any time after your arrival in england, we shall be most happy to receive you, and make the passage as comfortable and pleasant as circumstances will permit." to this most liberal proposition newton most gladly acceded. the officers who had come on deck with the first lieutenant invited newton below, where he was introduced to the remainder of the mess, who were most of them fine young men, as happy and careless as if youth was to last for ever. having pledged each other in a glass of grog, newton returned on shore. the next morning he made his arrangements, paid his bill at the hotel, and before twelve o'clock was again on board of the frigate, which lay with the blue peter hoisted, and her fore-topsail loose, waiting for her captain, who was still detained on shore while the admiral and governor made up their despatches. when newton had applied to the captain of the frigate for a passage home, he could hardly believe it possible that the person to whom he was introduced could be entrusted with the command of so fine a vessel. he was a slight-made, fair complexioned lad, of nineteen or twenty years at the most, without an incipient mark of manhood on his chin. he appeared lively, active, and good-natured; but what were the other qualifications he possessed, to discover such a mark of confidence, were to newton an enigma requiring solution. it was, however, to be explained in very few words. he was the son of the admiral of the station, and (as at that period there was no regulation with respect to age, to check the most rapid promotion), after he had served his time as midshipman, in less than two months he had been raised through the different ranks of lieutenant, commander, and post-captain. on receiving the latter step, he was at the same time appointed to the frigate in question,--one of the finest which belonged to his majesty's service. in order, however, that he should to a certain degree be in leading-strings, a very old and efficient officer had been selected by the admiral as his first lieutenant. whether, in common justice, the captain and his subordinate ought not to have changed places, i leave the reader to guess; and it was the more unfair towards the worthy old first lieutenant, as, if the admiral had not entertained such a high opinion of his abilities and judgment as to confide to him the charge of his son, he would long before have been promoted himself to one of the many vacancies which so repeatedly occurred. captain carrington had all the faults which, if no inherent, will naturally be acquired by those who are too early entrusted with power. he was self-sufficient, arbitrary, and passionate. his good qualities consisted in a generous disposition, a kindness of heart when not irritated, a manly courage, and a frank acknowledgment of his errors. had he been allowed to serve a proper time in the various grades of his profession--had he been taught to obey before he had been permitted to _command_--he had within him all the materials for a good officer: as it was, he was neither officer, sailor, nor anything else, except a _spoiled boy_. he would often attempt to carry on the duty as captain, and as often fail from want of knowledge. he would commence manoeuvring the ship, but find himself unable to proceed. at these unfortunate _break downs_, he would be obliged to resign the speaking-trumpet to the first lieutenant; and if, as sometimes happened, the latter (either from accident, or perhaps from a pardonable pique at having the duty taken out of his hands), was not at his elbow to prompt him when at fault--at these times the cant phrase of the officers, taken from some farce, used to be, "_york, you're wanted_." about an hour before sunset the juvenile captain made his appearance on board, rather _fresh_ from taking leave of his companions and acquaintances on shore. the frigate was got under weigh by the first lieutenant, and, before the sun had disappeared, was bounding over the foaming seas in the direction of the country which had nurtured to maturity the gnarled oak selected for her beautiful frame. newton joined his new messmates in drinking a prosperous passage to old england; and, with a heart grateful for his improved prospects, retired to the hammock which had been prepared for him. when newton rose in the morning, he found that the wind had shifted contrary during the night, and that the frigate was close hauled, darting through the smooth water with her royals set. at ten o'clock the master proposed tacking the ship, and the first lieutenant went down to report his wish to the captain. "very well, mr nourse," replied the captain; "turn the hands up." "ay, ay, sir," replied the first lieutenant, leaving the cabin. "call the boatswain, quarter-master--all hands 'bout ship." "all hands 'bout ship," was now bellowed out by the boatswain, and re-echoed by his mates at the several hatchways, with a due proportion of whistling from their pipes. "tumble up, there--tumble up smartly, my lads." in a minute every man was on deck, and at his station; many of them, however, _tumbling down_ in their laudable hurry to _tumble up_. "silence there, fore and aft--every man to his station," cried the first lieutenant through his speaking-trumpet. "all ready, sir," reported the first lieutenant to the captain, who had followed him on deck. "shall we put the helm down?" "if you please, mr nourse." "down with the helm." when the master reported it down, "the helm's a-lee," roared the first lieutenant. but captain carrington, who thought light winds and smooth water a good opportunity for practice, interrupted him as he was walking towards the weather gangway "mr nourse, mr nourse, if you please, i'll work the ship." "very good, sir," replied the first lieutenant, handing him the speaking-trumpet. "rise tacks and sheets, if you please, sir," continued the first lieutenant (_sotto voce_), "the sails are lifting." "tacks and sheets!" cried the captain. "gather in on the lee main-tack, my lads," said the first lieutenant, going to the lee gangway to see the duty performed. now, captain carrington did know that "mainsail haul" was the next word of command; but as this order requires a degree of precision as to the exact time at which it is given, he looked over his shoulder for the first lieutenant, who usually prompted him in this exigence. not seeing him there, he became disconcerted; and during the few seconds that he cast his anxious eyes about the deck, to discover where the first lieutenant was, the ship had passed head to wind. "mainsail haul!" at last cried the captain; but it was too late; the yards would not swing round; everything went wrong; and the ship was _in irons_. "you hauled a little too late, sir," observed the first lieutenant who had joined him. "you must box her off, sir, if you please." but captain carrington, although he could put the ship in irons, did not know how to take her out. "the ship is certainly most cursedly out of trim," observed he; "she'll neither wear nor stay. try her yourself, mr nourse," continued the captain, "i'm sick of her!"--and with a heightened colour, he handed the speaking-trumpet over to the first lieutenant. "york, you're wanted," observed the lieutenant abaft to the marine officer, dropping down the corners of his mouth. "york, you're wanted," tittered the midshipmen, in whispers, as they passed each other. "well, i've won your grog, jim," cried one of the marines, who was standing at the forebrace; "i knew he'd never do it." "he's like me," observed another, in a low tone; "he left school too 'arly, and lost his edication." such were the results of injudicious patronage. a fine ship entrusted to a boy, ignorant of his duty; laughed at, not only by the officers, but even by the men; and the honour of the country at stake, and running no small risk of being tarnished, if the frigate met with a vigorous opponent.[ ] thank god, this is now over! judicious regulations have put a stop to such selfish and short-sighted patronage. selfish, because those who were guilty of it risked the honour of the nation to advance the interests of their _protégés_; short-sighted, because it is of little use making a young man a captain if you cannot make him an officer. i might here enter into a discussion which might be of some use, but it would be out of place in a work intended more for amusement than for instruction; nor would it in all probability be read. i always make it a rule myself, to skip over all those parts introduced in a light work which are of denser materials than the rest; and i cannot expect but that others will do the same. there is a time and place for all things; and like the master of ravenswood, "i bide my time." [footnote : it is true that an officer must now serve a certain time in the various grades before promotion, which time is supposed to be sufficient for him to acquire a knowledge of his profession; but whether that knowledge is obtained depends, as before, upon the young officer's prospects in life. if from family interest he is sure of promotion, he is not quite so sure of being a seaman.] the frigate dashed gallantly through the water, at one time careening to an adverse wind, at another rolling before a favouring gale: and, to judge from her rapid motion, she was not in such very bad trim as captain carrington had found out. each day rapidly brought her nearer to their cherished home, as "she walked the waters like a thing of life." i can conceive no prouder situation in this world than being captain of a fine frigate, with a well-disciplined crew; but d--n your _eight-and-twenties_! "we had better take in the royals, if you please, sir," said the first lieutenant, as he came, with his hat in his hand, into the cabin, where the captain was at dinner with several of the officers, the table crowded with a variety of decanters and french green bottles. "pho! nonsense! mr nourse; we'll carry them a little longer," replied the captain, who had been _carrying too much sail_ another way. "sit down and take a glass of wine with us. you always cry out before you're hurt, nourse." "i thank you, sir," replied the first lieutenant, seriously; "you will excuse me: it is time to beat to quarters." "well, then, do so; i had no idea it was so late. mr forster, you don't pass the bottle." "i have taken enough, i thank you, sir." the officers present also made the same statement. "well, then, if you won't, gentlemen--steward, let's have some coffee." the coffee appeared and disappeared; and the officers made their bows and quitted the cabin as the first lieutenant entered it to report the muster at quarters. "all present and sober, sir. i am afraid, sir," continued he, "the masts will be over the side if we do not clew up the royals." "stop a moment, if you please, mr nourse, until i go up and judge for myself," replied the captain, who was inclined to be pertinacious. captain carrington went on deck. the men were still ranged round the decks at their quarters; more than one pair of eyes were raised aloft to watch the masts, which were bending like coach-whips, and complaining bitterly. "shall we beat a retreat, and pipe hands to shorten sail, sir? we had better take in the third reefs, sir;--it looks very squally to-night," observed the first lieutenant. "really, mr nourse, i don't exactly perceive the necessity--" but at that moment the fore and main-top-gallant-masts went over the side; and the look-out man at the fore-top-gallant-mast head, who had been called down by the first lieutenant, but did not hear the injunction, was hurled into the sea to leeward. "helm down!" cried the master. "man overboard!--man overboard!" echoed round the decks; while some of the officers and men jumped into the quarter-boats, and hastily cast off the gripes and lashings. captain carrington, who was immediately sobered by the catastrophe, which he felt had been occasioned by his own wilfulness, ran aft to the taffrail; and when he saw the poor sailor struggling in the waves, impelled by his really fine nature, he darted overboard to save him; but he was not by any means a powerful swimmer, and, encumbered with his apparel, it was soon evident that he could do no more than keep himself afloat. newton, who perceived how matters stood, with great presence of mind caught up two of the oars from the boat hanging astern, and darted over to the assistance of both. one oar he first carried to the seaman, who was exhausted and sinking. placing it under his arms, he then swam with the other to captain carrington, who could not have remained above water but a few seconds more without the timely relief. he then quietly swam by the side of captain carrington, without any attempt at extra exertion. the boat was soon lowered down, and in a few minutes they were all three again on board, and in safety. captain carrington thanked newton for his assistance, and acknowledged his error to the first lieutenant. the officers and men looked upon newton with respect and increased good-will; and the sailors declared that the captain was a prime little fellow, although he hadn't had an "edication." nothing worthy of remark occurred during the remainder of the passage. the ship arrived at plymouth, and newton took leave of his friendly shipmates, captain carrington requesting that newton would command any interest that he had, if ever it should be required. it was with a throbbing heart that newton descended from the outside of the coach which conveyed him to liverpool, and hastened towards the obscure street in which he left his father residing. it was about four o'clock in the afternoon when newton arrived at his father's door. to his delight, he perceived through the shop-window that his father was sitting at his bench; but his joy was checked when he perceived his haggard countenance. the old man appeared to be absorbed in deep thought, his cheek resting upon his hand, and his eyes cast down upon the little bench, to which the vice used to be fixed, but from which it was now removed. the door was ajar, and newton entered with his portmanteau in his hand; but whatever noise he might have made was not sufficient to rouse nicholas, who continued in the same position. with one glance round the shop, newton perceived that it was bare of everything; even the glazed cases on the counter, which contained the spectacles, &c., had disappeared. all bespoke the same tale, as did the appearance of his father--misery and starvation. "my dearest father!" cried newton, unable to contain himself any longer. "how!--what?" cried nicholas, starting at the voice, but not looking round. "pho! nonsense!--he's dead," continued the old man, communing with himself, as he again settled into his former position. "my dearest father, i'm not dead!--look round--'tis newton! alive and well." "newton!" replied the old man, rising from his stool, and tottering to the counter, which was between them, on which he laid both his hands to support himself, as he looked into his son's face. "'tis newton, sure enough! my dear, dear boy!--then you an't dead?" "no, indeed, father; i am alive and well, thank god!" "thank god, too!" said nicholas, dropping his face on the counter, and bursting into tears. newton sprang over to the side where his father was, and embraced him. for some time they were locked in each other's arms; when nicholas, who had recovered his composure, looked at newton, and said, "are you hungry, my dear boy?" "yes, indeed i am," replied newton, smiling, as the tears coursed down his cheeks; "for i have had nothing since breakfast." "and i have had nothing for these two days," replied nicholas, leaning back to the wall in evident exhaustion. "good god! you don't say so?" cried newton; "where can i buy something ready cooked?" "at the shop round the corner: there's a nice piece of boiled beef there; i saw it yesterday. i offered my improvement on the duplex for a slice; but he would not trust me, even for that." newton ran out, and in a few minutes reappeared with the beef in question, some bread, and a pot of porter, with two plates and knives and forks, which the people had lent him, upon his putting down a deposit. he had laid them on the counter before his father, who, without saying a word, commenced his repast: the beef disappeared--the bread vanished--the porter-pot was raised to his mouth, and in a moment it was dry! "never made a better dinner, newton," observed nicholas: "but i wish there had been a little more of it." newton, who had only been a spectator, immediately went out for another supply; and on his return assisted his father in its demolition. "newton," said nicholas, who for a few minutes had relinquished his task, "i've been thinking--that--i should like another slice of that beef! and newton, as i said before--i'll trouble you for the porter!" chapter xxiii "orlando--then forbear your food a little while, while, like a doe, i go to find my fawn, and give it food. there is a poor old man oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger." shakespeare. reader, were you ever really hungry? i do not mean the common hunger arising from health and exercise, and which you have the means of appeasing at the moment, when it may be considered a source of pleasure rather than of pain:--i refer to the gnawing of starvation; because, if you have not been, you can form no conception of the agony of the suffering. fortunately, but very few of my readers can have any knowledge of it; the general sympathy which it creates is from an ideal, not a practical knowledge. it has been my lot during the vicissitudes of a maritime life to have suffered hunger to extremity; and although impossible to express the corporeal agony, yet some notion of it may be conceived from the effect it had upon my mind. i felt that i hated the whole world, kin or no kin; that theft was a virtue, murder excusable, and cannibalism anything but disgusting; from which the inference may be safely drawn, viz., that i was devilish hungry. i mention this, because nicholas forster, although he had been two days without food, and had disposed of every article which was saleable, was endued with so much strength of principle as not to have thought (or if he _had_ thought of it, immediately to have dismissed the thought) of vending the property found in the trunk by his son, and which had remained so long in their possession. that few would have been so scrupulous, i will acknowledge: whether nicholas was over-scrupulous, is a question i leave to be debated by those who are fond of argument. i only state the fact. until the arrival of the ship brought home by mr berecroft, the allotment of newton's wages had been regularly paid to his father; but when the owner discovered that the brig had parted company with the convoy, and had not since been heard of, the chance of capture was considered so great that the owner refused to advance any more on newton's account. nicholas was thus thrown upon his own resources, which were as small as they well could be. the crew of the brig, who quitted her in the boat, were picked up by a homeward-bound vessel, and brought what was considered the certain intelligence of jackson and newton having perished on the wreck. nicholas, who had frequently called at the owner's since his allowance had been stopped, to obtain tidings of his son, was overwhelmed with the intelligence of his death. he returned to his own house, and never called there again. mr berecroft, who wished to find him out and relieve him, could not ascertain in what quarter of the town he resided, and shortly after was obliged to proceed upon another voyage. thus was the poor optician left to his fate; and it is probable that, but for the fortunate return of newton, it would soon have been miserably decided. newton was much pleased when he learnt from his father that he had not disposed of the property which he had picked up at sea, for he now felt assured that he had discovered the owner at guadaloupe, and intended to transmit it to m. de fontanges as soon as he could find a safe conveyance; but this at present was not practicable. as soon as his father had been re-established in his several necessities and comforts, newton, aware that his purse would not last for ever, applied to the owner of the brig for employment; but he was decidedly refused. the loss of the vessel had soured his temper against anyone who had belonged to her. he replied that he considered newton to be an unlucky person, and must decline his sailing in any of his vessels, even if a vacancy should occur. to every other application made elsewhere, newton met with the same ill fortune. mr berecroft was not there to recommend or to assist him, and months passed away in anxious expectation of his patron's return, when the intelligence was brought home that he had been carried off by yellow-fever, which that year had been particularly malignant and fatal. the loss of his only protector was a heavy blow to poor newton; but he bore up against his fortune and redoubled his exertions. as before, he could always obtain employment before the mast; but this he refused, knowing that if again impressed, however well he might be off himself, and however fortunate in prize-money, his father would be left destitute, and in all probability be starved before he could return. the recollection of the situation in which he had found him on his return from the west indies made newton resolve not to leave his father without some surety of his being provided with the means of subsistence. he was not without some employment, and earned sufficient for their mutual maintenance by working as a rigger on board of the ships fitting for sea; and he adhered to this means of livelihood until something better should present itself. had newton been alone in the world, or his father able to support himself, he would have immediately applied to captain carrington to receive him in some capacity on board of his frigate, or have entered on board of some other man-of-war. newton's heart was too generous, and his mind too truly english, not to bound when he read or heard of the gallant encounters between the vessels of the rival nations, and he longed to be one of the many thousands so diligently employed in twining the wreath of laurel round their country's brow. nearly one year of constant fatigue, constant expectation, and constant disappointment was thus passed away; affairs grew daily worse, employment scarce, money scarcer. newton, who had been put off from receiving his wages until the ensuing day, which, as they had no credit, was in fact putting off their dinner also to the morrow, went home, and dropped on a chair in a despondent mood, at the table where nicholas was already seated. "well, newton, what's for dinner?" said nicholas, drawing his chair close to the table in preparation. "i have not been paid the money due to me," replied newton; "and, father, i'm afraid there's nothing." nicholas backed his chair from the table again, with an air of resignation, as newton continued: "indeed, father, i think we must try our fortune elsewhere. what's the use of staying where we cannot get employment? everything is now gone, except our wearing apparel. we might raise some money upon mine, it is true; but had we not better, before we spend it, try if fortune will be more favourable to us in some other place?" "why, yes, newton, i've been thinking that if we were to go to london, my improvement on the duplex--" "is that our only chance there, sir?" replied newton, half smiling. "why no; now i think of it, i've a brother there, john forster, or jack, as we used to call him. it's near thirty years since i heard of him; but somebody told me, when you were in the west indies, that he had become a great lawyer, and was making a large fortune. i quite forgot the circumstance till just now." newton had before heard his father mention that he had two brothers, but whether dead or alive he could not tell. the present intelligence appeared to hold out some prospect of relief, for newton could not for a moment doubt that if his uncle was in such flourishing circumstances, he would not refuse assistance to his brother. he therefore resolved not to wait until their means were totally exhausted: the next day he disposed of all his clothes except one suit, and found himself richer than he had imagined. having paid his landlord the trifle due for rent, without any other incumbrance than the packet of articles picked up in the trunk at sea, three pounds sterling in his pocket, and the ring of madame de fontanges on his little finger, newton, with his father, set off on foot for the metropolis. chapter xxiv "i labour to diffuse the important good till this great truth by all be understood, that all the pious duty which we owe our parents, friends, our country, and our god, the seeds of every virtue here below, from discipline and early culture grow." west. the different chapters of a novel remind me of a convoy of vessels. the incidents and _dramatis personæ_ are so many respective freights, all under the charge of the inventor, who, like a man-of-war, must see them all safely, and together, into port. and as the commanding officer, when towing one vessel which has lagged behind up to the rest, finds that in the meantime another has dropped nearly out of sight, and is obliged to cast off the one in tow, to perform the same necessary duty towards the sternmost, so am i necessitated for the present to quit nicholas and newton, while i run down to edward forster and his _protégée_. it must be recollected that, during our narrative, "time has rolled his ceaseless course," and season has succeeded season, until the infant, in its utter helplessness to lift its little hands for succour, has sprung up into a fair blue-eyed little maiden of nearly eight years old, light as a fairy in her proportions, bounding as a fawn in her gait; her eyes beaming with joy, and her cheeks suffused with the blush of health, when tripping over the sea-girt hills; meek and attentive when listening to the precepts of her fond and adopted parent. "faithful," the newfoundland dog, is no more, but his portrait hangs over the mantel-piece in the little parlour. mrs beazely, the housekeeper, has become inert and querulous from rheumatism and the burden of added years. a little girl, daughter of robertson, the fisherman, has been called in to perform her duties, while she basks in the summer's sun or hangs over the winter's fire. edward forster's whole employment and whole delight has long been centred in his darling child, whose beauty of person, quickness of intellect, generous disposition, and affectionate heart, amply repay him for his kind protection. of all chapters which can be ventured upon, one upon education is perhaps the most tiresome. most willingly would i pass it over, not only for the reader's sake, but for mine own; for his--because it cannot well be otherwise than dry and uninteresting; for mine--because i do not exactly know how to write it. but this cannot be. amber was not brought up according to the prescribed maxims of mesdames appleton and hamilton; and as effects cannot be satisfactorily comprehended without the causes are made known, so it becomes necessary, not only that the chapter should be written, but, what is still more vexatious, absolutely necessary that it should be read. before i enter upon this most unpleasant theme--unpleasant to all parties, for no one likes to teach, and no one likes to learn,--i cannot help remarking how excessively _au fait_ we find most elderly maiden ladies upon every point connected with the rearing of our unprofitable species. they are erudite upon every point _ab ovo_, and it would appear that their peculiar knowledge of the _theory_ can but arise from their attentions having never been diverted by the _practice_. let it be the teeming mother or the new-born babe--the teething infant or the fractious child--the dirty, pinafored urchin or sampler-spoiling girl--school-boy lout or sapling miss--voice-broken, self-admiring hobby-de-hoy, or expanding conscious and blushing maiden, the whole arcana of nature and of art has been revealed to them alone. let it be the scarlet fever or a fit of passion, the measles or a shocking fib--whooping-cough or apple-stealing--learning too slow or eating too fast--slapping a sister or clawing a brother--let the disease be bodily or mental, they alone possess the panacea; and blooming matrons, spreading out in their pride, like the anxious clucking hen, over their numerous encircling offspring, who have borne them with a mother's throes, watched over them with a mother's anxious mind, and reared them with a mother's ardent love, are considered to be wholly incompetent, in the opinion of these dessicated and barren branches of nature's stupendous, ever-bearing tree. mrs beazely, who had lost her husband soon after marriage, was not fond of children, as they interfered with her habits of extreme neatness. as far as amber's education was concerned, all we can say is, that if the old housekeeper did no good, she certainly did her no harm. as amber increased in years and intelligence, so did her thirst for knowledge on topics upon which mrs beazely was unable to give her any correct information. under these circumstances, when applied to, mrs beazely, who was too conscientious to mislead the child, was accustomed to place her hand upon her back, and complain of the rheumatiz--"such a stitch, my dear love, can't talk now--ask your pa when he comes home." edward forster had maturely weighed the difficulties of the charge imposed upon him, that of educating a female. the peculiarity of her situation, without a friend in the wide world except himself; and his days, in all probability, numbered to that period at which she would most require an adviser--that period, when the heart rebels against the head and too often overthrows the legitimate dynasty of reason, determined him to give a masculine character to her education, as most likely to prove the surest safeguard through a deceitful world. aware that more knowledge is to be imparted to a child by conversation than by any other means (for by this system education is divested of its drudgery), during the first six years of her life amber knew little more than the letters of the alphabet. it was not until her desire of information was excited to such a degree as to render her anxious to obtain her own means of acquiring it that amber was taught to read; and then it was at her own request. edward forster was aware that a child of six years old, willing to learn, would soon pass by another who had been drilled to it at an earlier age and against its will, and whose mind had been checked in its expansive powers by the weight which constantly oppressed its infant memory. until the above age, the mind of amber had been permitted to run as unconfined through its own little regions of fancy, as her active body had been allowed to spring up the adjacent hills--and both were equally beautified and strengthened by the healthy exercise. religion was deeply impressed upon her grateful heart; but it was simplified almost to unity, that it might be clearly understood. it was conveyed to her through the glorious channel of nature, and god was loved and feared from the contemplation and admiration of his works. did amber fix her eyes upon the distant ocean, or watch the rolling of the surf; did they wander over the verdant hills, or settle on the beetling cliff; did she raise her cherub-face to the heavens, and wonder at the studded firmament of stars, or the moon sailing in her cold beauty, or the sun blinding her in his warmth and splendour;--she knew that it was god who made them all. did she ponder over the variety of the leaf; did she admire the painting of the flower, or watch the motions of the minute insect, which, but for her casual observation, might have lived and died unseen;--she felt, she knew that all was made for man's advantage or enjoyment, and that god was great and good. her orisons were short, but they were sincere; unlike the child who, night and morning, stammers through a "belief" which it cannot comprehend, and whose ideas of religion are, from injudicious treatment, too soon connected with feelings of impatience and disgust. curiosity has been much abused. from a habit we have contracted in this world of not calling things by their right names, it has been decried as a vice, whereas it ought to have been classed as a virtue. had adam first discovered the forbidden fruit he would have tasted it, without, like eve, requiring the suggestions of the devil to urge him on to disobedience. but if by curiosity was occasioned the fall of man, it is the same passion by which he is spurred to rise again, and reappear only inferior to the deity. the curiosity of little minds may be impertinent; but the curiosity of great minds is the thirst for knowledge--the daring of our immortal powers--the enterprise of the soul, to raise itself again to its original high estate. it was curiosity which stimulated the great newton to search into the laws of heaven, and enabled his master-mind to translate the vast mysterious page of nature, ever before our eyes since the creation of the world, but never, till he appeared, to be read by mortal man. it is this passion which must be nurtured in our childhood, for upon its healthy growth and vigour depends the future expansion of the mind. how little money need be expended to teach a child, and yet what a quantity of books we have to pay for! amber had hardly ever looked into a book, and yet she knew more, that is, had more general useful knowledge than others who were twice her age. how small was edward forster's little parlour--how humble the furniture it contained!--a carpet, a table, a few chairs, a small china vase, as an ornament, on the mantel-piece. how few were the objects brought to amber's view in their small secluded home! the plates and knives for dinner, a silver spoon or two, and their articles of wearing apparel. yet how endless, how inexhaustible was the amusement and instruction derived from these trifling sources!--for these were forster's books. the carpet--its hempen ground carried them to the north, from whence the material came, the inhabitants of the frozen world, their manners and their customs, the climate and their cities, their productions and their sources of wealth. its woollen surface, with its various dyes--each dye containing an episode of an island or a state, a point of natural history, or of art and manufacture. the mahogany table, like some magic vehicle, transported them in a second to the torrid zone, where the various tropical flowers and fruit, the towering cocoa-nut, the spreading palm, the broad-leaved banana, the fragrant pine--all that was indigenous to the country, all that was peculiar in the scenery and the clime, were pictured to the imagination of the delighted amber. the little vase upon the mantel-piece swelled into a splendid atlas of eastern geography, an inexhaustible folio describing indian customs, the asiatic splendour of costume, the gorgeous thrones of the descendants of the prophet, the history of the prophet himself, the superior instinct and stupendous body of the elephant; all that edward forster had collected of nature or of art, through these extensive regions, were successively displayed, until they returned to china, from whence they had commenced their travels. thus did the little vase, like the vessel taken up by the fisherman in the "arabian nights," contain a giant confined by the seal of solomon--knowledge. the knife and spoon brought food unto the mind as well as to the body. the mines were entered, the countries pointed out in which they were to be found, the various metals, their value, and the uses to which they were applied. the dress again led them abroad; the cotton hung in pods upon the tree, the silkworm spun its yellow tomb, all the process of manufacture was explained. the loom again was worked by fancy, until the article in comment was again produced. thus was amber instructed and amused: and thus, with nature for his hornbook, and art for his primer, did the little parlour of edward forster expand into the "universe." chapter xxv "----they boast their noble birth: conduct us to the tombs of their forefathers, and from age to age ascending, trumpet their illustrious race." cowper. devoted as he was to the instruction of his adopted child, edward forster was nevertheless aware that more was required in the education of a female than he was competent to fulfil. many and melancholy were his reveries on the forlorn prospects of the little girl (considering his own precarious life and the little chance that appeared of restoring her to her friends and relations), still he resolved that all that could should be done; the issue he left to providence. that she might not be cast wholly unknown upon the world, in case of his death, he had often taken amber to a neighbouring mansion, with the owner of which, lord aveleyn, he had long been on friendly terms; although, until latterly, he had declined mixing with the society which was there collected. many years before, the possessor had entered the naval service, and had, during the few months that he had served in the capacity of midshipman, been intrusted to the charge of edward forster. it is a curious fact, although little commented upon, how much society in general is affected by the entailment of property in aristocratical families upon the male heir; we may add, how much it is demoralised. the eldest son, accustomed from his earliest days to the flattery and adulation of dependents, is impressed with but one single idea, namely, that he is the fortunate person deputed by chance to spend so many thousands per annum, and that his brothers and sisters, with equal claims upon their parent, are to be almost dependent upon him for support. of this, the latter are but too soon made conscious, by the difference of treatment which they experience from those around them; and feelings of envy and ill-will towards their eldest brother are but too often the result of such inequality. thus, one of the greatest charms of life, unity between brethren, is destroyed. the possessor of the title and the estates is at last borne to his long home, there to lie until summoned before that presence where he, and those who were kings, and those who were clowns, will stand trembling as erring men, awaiting the fiat of eternal justice. in his turn, the young lord revels in his youth. then how much more trying is the situation of the younger brothers. during their father's lifetime they had a home, and were brought up in scenes and with ideas commensurate with the fortune which had been entailed. now, they find themselves thrown upon the world, without the means of support, even adequate to their wants. like the steward in the parable, "they cannot dig, to beg they are ashamed;" and, like him, they too often resort to unworthy means to supply their exigencies. should the young heir prove sickly, what speculations on his demise! the worldly stake is so enormous that the ties of nature are dissolved, and a brother rejoices at a brother's death! one generation is not sufficient to remove these feelings; the barrenness of his marriage-bed, or the weakly state of his children, are successively speculated upon by the presumptive heir. let it not be supposed that i would infer this always to be the fact. i have put the extreme case, to point out what must ensue, according to the feelings of our nature, if care is not taken to prevent its occurrence. there is a cruelty, a more than cruelty, in parents bringing up their children with ideas which seldom can be realised, and rendering their future lives a pilgrimage of misery and discontent, if not of depravity. but the major part of our aristocracy are neither deficient in talent nor in worth. they set a bright example to the nobles of other countries, and very frequently even to the less demoralised society of our own. trammelled by the deeds of their forefathers, they employ every means in their power to remedy the evil; and a large proportion of their younger branches find useful and honourable employment in the army, the navy, or the church. but their numbers cannot all be provided for by these channels; and it is the country at large which is taxed to supply the means of sustenance to the younger scions of nobility--taxed directly in the shape of place and sinecure, indirectly in various ways; but in no way so heavily as by the monopoly of the east india company, which has so long been permitted to oppress the nation, that these _detrimentals_ (as they have named themselves), may be provided for. it is a well-known fact, that there is hardly a peer in the upper house, or many representatives of the people in the lower, who are not, or who anticipate to be, under some obligation to this company, by their relations or connections being provided for in those distant climes; and it is this bribery (for bribery it is, in whatever guise it may appear) that upholds one of the most glaring, the most oppressive of all monopolies, in the face of common sense, common justice, and common decency. other taxes are principally felt by the higher and middling classes; but this most odious, this most galling tax, is felt even in the cottage of the labourer, who cannot return to refresh himself after his day of toil with his favourite beverage, without paying twice its value out of his hard-earned pittance, to swell the dividend of the company, and support these _pruriencies_ of noble blood. and yet, deprecating the evils arising from the system of entail, i must acknowledge that there are no other means by which (in a monarchical government) the desirable end of upholding rank is to be obtained. i remember once, when conversing with an american, i inquired after one or two of his countrymen, who, but a few years before, were of great wealth and influence. to one of my remarks he answered, "in our country, all the wealth and power at the time attached to it does not prevent a name from sinking into insignificance, or from being forgotten soon after its possessor is dead, for we do not entail property. the distribution scatters the amassed heap, by which the world around him had been attracted; and although the distribution tends to the general fertilisation of the country, yet with the disappearance, the influence of the possessor, and even his name, are soon forgotten." these remarks, as will appear in the sequel, are apposite to the parties whom i am about to introduce to the readers. as, however, they are people of some consequence, it may appear to be a want of due respect on my part, if i were to introduce them at the fag-end of a chapter. chapter xxvi "'twas his the vast and trackless deep to rove. alternate change of climates has he known, and felt the fierce extremes of either zone, where polar skies congeal th' eternal snow, or equinoctial suns for ever glow; smote by the freezing or the scorching blast, a ship-boy on the high and giddy mast." falconer. the father of the present lord aveleyn had three sons, and, in conformity with the usages commented upon in the preceding chapter, the two youngest were condemned to the army and navy; the second, who had priority of choice, being dismissed to gather laurels in a red coat, while the third was recommended to do the same, if he could, in a suit of blue. fairly embarked in their several professions, a sum of fifty pounds per annum was placed in the hands of their respective agents, and no more was thought about a pair of "detrimentals." lord aveleyn's father, who had married late in life, was summoned away when the eldest brother of the present lord aveleyn, the heir, was yet a minor, about two years after he had embarked in the ship to which edward forster belonged. now it was the will of providence that, about six months after the old nobleman's decease, the young lord and his second brother, who had obtained a short furlough, should most unadvisedly embark in a small sailing boat on the lake close to the mansion, and that, owing to some mismanagement of the sail, the boat upset, and they were both drowned. as soon as the melancholy intelligence was made known to the trustees, a letter was despatched to captain l----, who commanded the ship in which young aveleyn was serving his time, acquainting him with the catastrophe, and requesting the immediate discharge of the young midshipman. the captain repaired on board; when he arrived on the quarter-deck, he desired the first lieutenant to send down for young aveleyn. "he is at the mast-head, sir," replied the first lieutenant, "for neglect of duty." "really, mr w----," replied the captain, who had witnessed the boy's _ascent_ at least a hundred times before with perfect indifference, and had often sent him up himself, "you appear to be very sharp upon that poor lad; you make no allowance for youth--boys will be boys." "he's the most troublesome young monkey in the ship, sir," replied the first lieutenant, surprised at this unusual interference. "he has always appeared to me to be a well-disposed, intelligent lad, mr w----; and i wish you to understand that i do not approve of this system of eternal mast-heading. however, he will not trouble you any more, as his discharge is to be immediately made out. he is now," continued the captain, pausing to give more effect to his communication, "lord aveleyn." "whew! now the murder's out," mentally exclaimed the first lieutenant. "call him down immediately, mr w----, if you please--and recollect that i disapprove of the system." "certainly, sir; but really, captain l----, i don't know what i shall do if you restrict my power of punishing the young gentlemen; they are so extremely unruly. there's mr malcolm," continued the first lieutenant, pointing to a youngster who was walking on the other side of the deck, with his hands in his pockets, "it was but yesterday that he chopped off at least four inches from the tail of your dog 'ponto' at the beef-block, and pretends it was an accident." "what! my setter's tail?" "yes, sir, he did, i can assure you." "mr malcolm," cried the captain, in great wrath, "how came you to cut off my dog's tail?" before i went to sea i had always considered a london cock-sparrow to be the truest emblem of consummate impudence; but i have since discovered that he is quite modest compared to a midshipman. "me, sir?" replied the youngster, demurely. "i didn't cut off his tail, sir; he _cut it off himself!_" "what, sir?" roared the captain. "if you please, sir, i was chopping a piece of beef, and the dog, who was standing by, turned short round, and put his tail under the chopper." "put his tail under the chopper, you little scamp!" replied captain l----, in a fury. "now just put your head above the maintop-gallant cross-trees, and stay there until you are called down. mr w----, you'll keep him up till sunset." "ay, ay, sir," replied the first lieutenant, with a satisfactory smile at the description of punishment inflicted. when i was a midshipman, it was extremely difficult to avoid the mast-head. out of six years served in that capacity, i once made a calculation that two of them were passed away perched upon the cross-trees, looking down with calm philosophy upon the microcosm below. yet, although i _never_ deserved it, i derived much future advantage from my repeated punishments. the mast-head, for want of something _worse_ to do, became my study; and during the time spent there, i in a manner finished my education. volumes after volumes were perused to while away the tedious hours; and i conscientiously believe it is to this mode of punishment adopted by my rigid superiors that the world is indebted for all the pretty books which i am writing. i was generally exalted either for _thinking_ or _not thinking;_ and as i am not aware of any medium between the active and passive state of our minds (except dreaming, which is still more unpardonable), the reader may suppose that there is no exaggeration in my previous calculation of one-third of my midshipman existence having been passed away upon "the high and giddy mast." "mr m----," would the first lieutenant cry out, "why did you stay so long on shore with the jolly-boat?" "i went to the post-office for the officers' letters, sir." "and pray, sir, who ordered you?" "no one, sir; but i _thought_--" "you _thought_, sir! how dare _you think_?--go up to the mast-head, sir." so much for _thinking_. "mr m----," would he say at another time, when i came on board, "did you call at the admiral's office?" "no, sir; i had no orders. i didn't _think_--" "then why _didn't you think_, sir? up to the mast-head, and stay there till i call you down." so much for _not thinking_. like the fable of the wolf and the lamb, it was all the same; bleat as i pleased, my defence was useless, and i could not avert my barbarous doom. to proceed: captain l---- went over the side; the last pipe had been given, and the boatswain had returned his call into his jacket-pocket and walked forward, when the first lieutenant, in pursuance of his orders, looked up aloft, intending to have hailed the new lord, and have requested the pleasure of his company on deck; but the youngster, feeling a slight degree of appetite, after enjoying the fresh air for seven hours without any breakfast, had just ventured down the topmast rigging, that he might obtain possession of a bottle of tea and some biscuit, which one of his messmates had carried up for him, and stowed away in the bunt of the maintopsail. young aveleyn, who thought that the departure of the captain would occupy the attention of the first lieutenant, had just descended to, and was placing his foot on the topsail yard, when mr w---- looked up, and witnessed this act of disobedience. as this was a fresh offence committed, he thought himself warranted in not complying with the captain's mandate, and the boy was ordered up again, to remain till sunset. "i would have called him down," muttered mr w----, whose temper had been soured from long disappointment; "but since he's a lord, he shall have a good spell of it before he quits the service; and then we shall not have his recommendation to others in his own rank to come into it and interfere with our promotion." now, it happened that mr w----, who had an eye like a hawk, when he cast his eyes aloft, observed that the bunt of the maintopsail was not exactly so well stowed as it ought to be on board of a man-of-war; which is not to be wondered at, when it is recollected that the midshipmen had been very busy enlarging it to make a pantry. he therefore turned the hands up, "mend sails," and took his station amidship on the booms, to see that this, the most delinquent sail, was properly furled.--"trice up--lay out--all ready forward?"--"all ready, sir."--"all ready abaft?"--"all ready, sir."--"let fall."--down came the sails from the yards, and down also came the bottle of tea and biscuit upon the face of the first lieutenant, who was looking up; the former knocking out three of his front teeth, besides splitting open both his lips and chin. young aveleyn, who witnessed the catastrophe, was delighted; the other midshipmen on deck crowded round their superior, to offer their condolements, winking and making faces at each other in by-play, until the first lieutenant descended to his cabin, when they no longer restrained their mirth. about an hour afterwards, mr w---- reappeared, with his face bound up, and summoned all the young gentlemen on deck, insisting upon being informed who it was who had stowed away the bottle in the bunt of the sail; but midshipmen have most treacherous memories, and not one of them knew anything about it. as a last resource, young aveleyn was called down from the mast-head. "now, sir," said mr w----, "either inform me directly who it was who stowed away the bottle aloft, or i pledge you my word you shall be discharged from his majesty's service to-morrow morning. don't pretend to say that you don't know--for you must." "i do know," replied the youngster, boldly; "but i never will tell." "then either you or i shall leave the service. man the first cutter;" and when the boat was manned, the first lieutenant sent some papers on shore, which he had been desired to do by the captain. when the boat returned, the clerk was sent for, and desired by mr w---- to make out mr aveleyn's discharge, as the officers and midshipmen thought (for mr w---- had kept his secret), for his disobedient conduct. the poor boy, who thought all his prospects blighted, was sent on shore, the tears running down his cheeks, as much from the applause and kind farewells of his shipmates, as from the idea of the degradation which he underwent. now, the real culprit was young malcolm, who, to oblige the captain, had taken his station at the foretop-gallant mast-head, because the dog "ponto" thought proper to cut off his own tail. the first lieutenant, in his own woe, forgot that of others; and it was not until past nine o'clock at night that malcolm, who thought that he had stayed up quite long enough, ventured below, when he was informed of what had taken place. the youngster immediately penned a letter to the captain, acknowledging that he was the offender, and requesting that mr aveleyn might not be discharged from the service; he also ventured to add a postscript, begging that the same lenity might be extended towards himself; which letter was sent on shore by the captain's gig, when it left the ship the next morning, and was received by captain l---- at the very same time that young aveleyn, who had not been sent on shore till late in the evening, called upon the captain to request a reprieve from his hard sentence. the boy sent up his name and was immediately admitted. "i presume you know why you are discharged from the service?" said captain l----, smiling benignantly. "yes, sir," replied the boy, holding his head down submissively, "because of that accident--i'm very sorry, sir." "of course you must, and ought to be. such heavy blows are not common, and hard to bear. i presume you go immediately to buckhurst?" "i suppose i must, sir; but i hope, captain l----, that you'll look over it." "i shall have very great pleasure in so doing," replied captain l----; "i hear that it is--" "thanky, sir, thanky," replied the youngster, interrupting the captain. "then may i go on board again and tell the first lieutenant?" "tell the first lieutenant what?" cried captain l----, perceiving some mistake. "why, has not mr w----told you?" "yes, sir, he told me it was your orders that i should be dismissed his majesty's service." "discharged--not dismissed. and i presume he told you why: because your two elder brothers are dead, and you are now lord aveleyn." "no, sir!" cried the youngster with astonishment; "because his three front teeth are knocked out with a bottle of _scaldchops,_ and i would not peach who stowed it away in the bunt of the sail." "this is excessively strange!" replied captain l----. "do me the favour to sit down, my lord; the letters from the ship will probably explain the affair." there was, however, no explanation, except from young malcolm. the captain read his letter, and put it into the hands of lord aveleyn, who entered into a detail of the whole. captain l---- produced the letter from the trustees, and, desiring his lordship to command him as to any funds he might require, requested the pleasure of his company to dinner. the boy, whose head wheeled with the sudden change in his prospects, was glad to retire, having first obtained permission to return on board with young malcolm's pardon, which had been most graciously acceded to. to the astonishment of everybody on board, young aveleyn came alongside in the captain's own gig, when the scene in the midshipmen's berth and the discomfiture of the first lieutenant may be imagined. "you don't belong to the service, frank," said the old master's mate; "and, as peer of the realm, coming on board to visit the ship, you are entitled to a salute. send up and say you expect one, and then w---- must have the guard up, and pay you proper respect. i'll be hanged if i don't take the message, if you consent to it." but lord aveleyn had come on board to pay a debt of gratitude, not to inflict mortification. he soon quitted the ship, promising never to forget malcolm; and, unlike the promises of most great men, it was fulfilled, and malcolm rose to be a captain from his own merit, backed by the exertions of his youthful patron. for the next week the three mast-heads were so loaded with midshipmen, that the boatswain proposed a preventer backstay, that the top-masts might not go over the side; but shortly after, captain l----, who was not pleased at the falsehood which mr w---- had circulated, and who had many other reasons for parting with him, succeeded in having him appointed to another ship; after which the midshipmen walked up and down the quarter-deck with their hands in their pockets, as before. chapter xxvii "but adeline determined juan's wedding in her own mind, and that's enough for woman; but then with whom? there was the sage miss redding, miss raw, miss flaw, miss showman and miss knowman, and the two fair co-heiresses giltbedding. she deem'd his merits something more than common. all these were unobjectionable matches, and might go on, it well wound up, like watches." byron. the young lord aveleyn returned to the hall of his ancestors, exchanging the gloomy cockpit for the gay saloon, the ship's allowance for sumptuous fare, the tyranny of his messmates and the harshness of his superiors for adulation and respect. was he happier? no. in this world, whether in boyhood or riper years, the happiest state of existence is when under control. although contrary to received opinion, this is a fact; but i cannot now stop to demonstrate the truth of the assertion. life may be compared to a gamut of music: there are seven notes from our birth to our marriage; and thus may we run up the first octave--milk, sugar-plums, apples, cricket, cravat, gun, horse; then comes the wife, a _da capo_ to a new existence, which is to continue until the whole diapason is gone through. lord aveleyn ran up his scale like others before him. "why do you not marry, my dear frank?" said the dowager lady aveleyn, one day, when a thick fog debarred her son of his usual pastime. "why, mother, i have no objection to marry; and i suppose i must, one of these days, as a matter of duty: but i really am very difficult to please; and if i were to make a bad choice, you know a wife is not like this gun, which will _go off_ when i please." "but still, my dear frank, there are many very eligible matches to be made just now." "i do not doubt it, madam, but pray who are they?" "why, miss riddlesworth--" "a very pretty girl, and i am told a large fortune. but let me hear the others first." "clara beauchamp, well connected, and a very sweet girl." "granted also, for anything i know to the contrary. have you more on your list?" "certainly. emily riddlesdale; not much fortune, but very highly connected indeed. her brother, lord riddlesdale, is a man of great influence." "her want of money is no object, my dear mother, and the influence of her brother no inducement; i covet neither. i grant you that she is a very nice girl. proceed." "why, frank, one would think that you were a sultan with his handkerchief. there is lady selina armstrong." "well, she is a very fine girl, and talks well." "there is harriet butler, who has just come out." "i saw her at the last ball we were at--a very pretty creature." "lady jemima calthorpe." "not very good-looking, but clever and agreeable." "there is louisa manners, who is very much admired." "i admire her very much myself." "well, frank, you have exhausted my catalogue. there is not one i have mentioned who is not unexceptionable, and whom i would gladly embrace as a daughter-in-law. you are now turned of forty, my dear son, and must make up your mind to have heirs to the title and estates. i am, however, afraid that your admiration is so general, that you will be puzzled in your choice." "i will confess to you, my dearest mother, that i have many years thought of the necessity of taking to myself a wife, but have never yet had courage to decide. i admit that if all the young women you have mentioned were what they appear to be, a man need not long hesitate in his choice; but the great difficulty is, that their real tempers and dispositions are not to be ascertained until it is too late. allow that i should attempt to discover the peculiar disposition of every one of them, what would be the consequence?--that my attentions would be perceived. i do not exactly mean to accuse them of deceit; but a woman is naturally flattered by perceiving herself an object of attraction; and when flattered, is pleased. it is not likely, therefore, that the infirmities of her temper (if she have any) should be discovered by a man whose presence is a source of gratification. if artful, she will conceal her faults; if not so, there will be no occasion to bring them to light. and even if, after a long courtship, something wrong should be discovered, either you have proceeded too far in honour to retract, or are so blinded by your own feelings as to extenuate it. now, it is only the parents and near relations of a young woman who can be witnesses to her real character, unless it be, indeed, her own maid, whom one could not condescend to interrogate." "that is all very true, frank; but recollect the same observations apply to your sex as well as ours. lovers and husbands are very different beings. it is quite a lottery on both sides." "i agree with you, my dear mother; and, as marry i must, so shall it be a lottery with me--i will leave it to chance, and not to myself: then, if i am unfortunate, i will blame my stars, and not have to accuse myself of a want of proper discrimination." lord aveleyn took up a sheet of paper, and, dividing it into small slips, wrote upon them the names of the different young ladies proposed by his mother. folding them up, he threw them on the table before her, and requested that she would select any one of the papers. the dowager took up one. "i thank you, madam," said lord aveleyn, taking the paper from her hand, and opening it--"'louisa manners.' well, then, louisa manners it shall be; always provided that she does not refuse me. i will make my first advances this very afternoon--that is, if it does not clear up, and i can take out the pointers." "you surely are joking, frank?" "never was more serious. i have my mother's recommendation, backed by fate. marry i must, but choose i will not. i feel myself desperately in love with the fair louisa already. i will report my progress to you, my dear madam, in less than a fortnight." lord aveleyn adhered to his singular resolution, courted, and was accepted. he never had reason to repent his choice; who proved to be as amiable as her countenance would have indicated. the fruits of his marriage was one son, who was watched over with mingled pride and anxiety, and who had now arrived at the age of fifteen years. such was the history of lord avelyn, who continued to extend his friendship to edward forster, and, if he had required it, would gladly have proffered his assistance, in return for the kindness which forster had shown towards him when he was a midshipman. the circumstances connected with the history of the little amber were known to lord aveleyn and his lady; and the wish of forster, that his little charge should derive the advantage of mixing in good female society, was gladly acceded to, both on his account and on her own. amber would often remain for days at the mansion, and was a general favourite, as well as an object of sympathy. but the growth of their son, too rapid for his years, and which brought with it symptoms of pulmonary disease, alarmed lord and lady aveleyn; and, by the advice of the physicians, they broke up their establishment, and hastened with him to madeira, to re-establish his health. their departure was deeply felt both by forster and his charge; and before they could recover from the loss, another severe trial awaited them in the death of mrs beazely, who, full of years and rheumatism, was gathered to her fathers. forster, habituated as he was to the old lady, felt her loss severely: he was now with amber, quite alone; and it so happened that in the following winter his wound broke out, and confined him to his bed until the spring. as he lay in a precarious state, the thought naturally occurred to him, "what will become of this poor child if i am called away? there is not the slightest provision for her: she has no friends, and i have not even made it known to any of my own that there is such a person in existence." edward forster thought of his brother, the lawyer, whom he knew still to be flourishing, although he had never corresponded with him; and resolved that, as soon as he was able to undertake the journey, he would go to town, and secure his interest for the little amber, in case of any accident happening to himself. the spring and summer passed away before he found himself strong enough to undertake the journey. it was late in the autumn that edward forster and amber took their places in a heavy coach for the metropolis, and arrived without accident on the day or two subsequent to that on which nicholas and newton had entered it on foot. chapter xxviii "through coaches, drays, choked turnpikes, and a whirl of wheels, and roar of voices, and confusion, here taverns wooing to a pint of 'purl,' there mails fast flying off, like a delusion. "through this, and much, and more, is the approach of travellers to mighty babylon; whether they come by horse, or chair, or coach, with slight exceptions, all the ways seem one." byron. when newton forster and his father arrived at london, they put up at an obscure inn in the borough. the next day, newton set off to discover the residence of his uncle. the people of the inn had recommended him to apply to some stationer or bookseller, who would allow him to look over a red-book; and, in compliance with these instructions, newton stopped at a shop in fleet-street, on the doors of which was written in large gilt letters--"law bookseller." the young men in the shop were very civil and obliging, and, without referring to the "guide," immediately told him the residence of a man so well known as his uncle, and newton hastened in the direction pointed out. it was one of those melancholy days in which london wears the appearance of a huge scavenger's cart. a lurid fog and mizzling rain, which had been incessant for the previous twenty-four hours; sloppy pavements, and kennels down which the muddy torrents hastened to precipitate themselves into the sewers below; armies of umbrellas, as far as the eye could reach, now rising, now lowering, to avoid collision; hackney-coaches in active sloth, their miserable cattle plodding along with their backs arched and heads and tails drooping like barndoor fowls crouching under the cataract of a gutter; clacking of pattens and pestering of sweepers; not a smile upon the countenance of one individual of the multitude which passed him;--all appeared anxiety, bustle, and selfishness. newton was not sorry when he turned down the narrow court which had been indicated to him, and, disengaged from the throng of men, commenced a more rapid course. in two minutes he was at the door of his uncle's chambers, which, notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, stood wide open, as if there should be no obstacle in a man's way, or a single moment for reflection allowed him, if he wished to entangle himself in the expenses and difficulties of the law. newton furled his weeping umbrella; and, first looking with astonishment at the mud which had accumulated above the calves of his legs, raised his eyes to the jambs on each side, where in large letters he read at the head of a long list of occupants, "mr forster, ground floor." a door with mr forster's name on it, within a few feet of him, next caught his eye. he knocked, and was admitted by the clerk, who stated that his master was at a consultation, but was expected back in half-an-hour, if he could wait so long. newton assented, and was ushered into the parlour, where the clerk presented the newspaper of the day to amuse him until the arrival of his uncle. as soon as the door was closed, newton's curiosity as to the character of his uncle induced him to scrutinise the apartment and its contents. in the centre of the room, which might have been about fourteen feet square, stood a table, with a shadow lamp placed before the only part of it which was left vacant for the use of the pen. the remainder of the space was loaded with parchment upon parchment, deed upon deed, paper upon paper. some, especially those underneath, had become dark and discoloured by time; the ink had changed to a dull red, and the imprint of many a thumb inferred how many years they had been in existence, and how long they had lain there as sad mementos of the law's delay. others were fresh and clean, the japanned ink in strong contrast with the glossy parchment,--new cases of litigation, fresh as the hopes of those who had been persuaded by flattering assurances to enter into a labyrinth of vexation, from which, perhaps, not to be extricated until these documents should assume the hue of the others, which silently indicated the blighted hopes of protracted litigation. two massive iron chests occupied the walls on each side of the fireplace; and round the whole area of the room were piled one upon another large tin boxes, on which, in legible roman characters, were written the names of the parties whose property was thus immured. there they stood like so many sepulchres of happiness, mausoleums raised over departed competence; while the names of the parties inscribed appeared as so many registers of the folly and contention of man. but from all this newton could draw no other conclusion than that his uncle had plenty of business. the fire in the grate was on so small a scale, that, although he shivered with the wet and cold, newton was afraid to stir it, lest it should go out altogether. from this circumstance he drew a hasty and unsatisfactory conclusion that his uncle was not very partial to spending his money. but he hardly had time to draw these inferences and then take up the newspaper, when the door opened, and another party was ushered into the room by the clerk, who informed him, as he handed a chair, that mr forster would return in a few minutes. the personage thus introduced was a short young man, with a round face, bushy eyebrows, and dogged countenance, implying wilfulness without ill-nature. as soon as he entered, he proceeded to divest his throat of a large shawl, which he hung over the back of a chair; then doffing his great coat, which was placed in a similar position, he rubbed his hands, and walked up to the fire, into which he insinuated the poker, and immediately destroyed the small symptoms of combustion which remained, reducing the whole to one chaos of smoke. "better have left it alone, i believe," observed he, reinserting the poker, and again stirring up the black mass, for the fire was now virtually defunct. "you're not cold, i hope, sir?" said the party, turning to newton. "no, sir, not very," replied newton, good humouredly. "i thought so; clients never are: nothing like law for _keeping you warm,_ sir. always bring on your cause in the winter months. i do, if i can; for it's positive suffocation in the dog-days!" "i really never was _at law,_" replied newton, laughing; "but if ever i have the misfortune, i shall recollect your advice." "never was at law! i was going to say, what the devil brings you here? but that would have been an impertinent question. well, sir, do you know, there was a time at which i never knew what law was," continued the young man, seating himself in a chair opposite to newton. "it was many years ago, when i was a younger brother, and had no property: no one took the trouble to go to law with me; for if they gained their cause, there were no effects. within the last six years i have inherited considerable property, and am always in hot water. i heard that the lawyers say, 'causes produce effects.' i am sure i can say that 'effects have produced causes!'" "i am sorry that your good fortune should be coupled with such a drawback." "oh, it's nothing! it's just to a man what a clog is to a horse in a field--you know pretty well where to find him. i'm so used to it--indeed so much so, that i should feel rather uncomfortable if i had nothing on my hands: just keeps me from being idle. i've been into every court in the metropolis, and have no fault to find with one of them, except the court of r------ts." "and pray, sir, what is that court, and the objection you have to it?" "why, as to the court, it's the most confounded ras------; but i must be careful how i speak before strangers: you'll excuse me, sir; not that i suspect you, but i know what may be considered as a libel. i shall, therefore, just state that it is a court at which no gentleman can appear; and if he does, it's of no use, for he'll never get a verdict in his favour." "what, then it is not a court of justice?" "court of justice! no, it's a court for the recovery of small debts; but i'll just tell you, sir, exactly what took place with me in that court, and then you will be able to judge for yourself. i had a dog, sir; it was just after i came into my property; his name was cæsar, and a very good dog he was. well, sir, riding out one day about four miles from town, a rabbit put his nose out of a cellar, where they retailed potatoes. cæsar pounced upon him, and the rabbit was dead in a moment. the man who owned the rabbit and the potatoes, came up to me and asked my name, which i told him; at the same time i expressed my sorrow at the accident, and advised him in future to keep his rabbits in hutches. he said he would, and demanded three shillings and sixpence for the one which the dog had killed. now, although he was welcome to advice, money was quite another thing; so he went one way muttering something about law, and i another, with cæsar at my heels, taking no notice of his threat. well, sir, in a few days my servant came up to say that somebody wished to see me upon _particular_ business, and i ordered him to be shown up. it was a blackguard-looking fellow, who put a piece of dirty paper in my hand; summoned me to appear at some dog-hole or another, i forget where. not understanding the business, i enclosed it to a legal friend, who returned an answer, that it was a summons to the court of r----ts; that no gentleman could go there; and that i had better let the thing take its course. i had forgotten all about it, when, in a few days, a piece of paper was brought to me, by which i found that the court adjudged me to pay £ s. d., for damages and costs. i asked who brought it, and was told it was the son of the potato-merchant, accompanied by a tipstaff. i requested the pleasure of their company, and asked the legal gentleman what it was for. "'eighteen shillings for ten rabbits destroyed by your dog, and s. d. for costs of court.' "'ten rabbits!' exclaimed i; 'why, he only killed one.' "'yes, sir,' squeaked out the young potato-merchant; 'but it was a doe rabbit in the family way; we counted nine young ones, all killed too!' "'shameful!' replied i. 'pray, sir, did your father tell the court that the rabbits were not born?' "'no, sir; father only said there was one doe rabbit and nine little ones killed. he asked s. d. for the old one, but only s. d. a-piece for the young ones.' "'you should have been there yourself, sir,' observed the tipstaff. "'i wish cæsar had left the rabbit alone. so it appears,' replied i, 'he only asked s. d. at first; but by this _cæsarean operation_, i am nineteen shillings out of pocket.'--now, sir, what do you think of that?" "i think that you should exclaim against the dishonesty of the potato-merchant, rather than the judgment of the court. had you defended your own cause, you might have had justice." "i don't know that. a man makes a claim against another, and takes his oath to it; you must then either disprove it, or pay the sum; your own oath is of no avail against his. i called upon my legal friend, and told him how i had been treated, and he then narrated the following circumstance, which will explain what i mean:-- "he told me that he never knew of but one instance in which a respectable person had gained his cause, and in which, he was ashamed to say, that he was a party implicated. the means resorted to were as follows:--a jew upholsterer sent in a bill to a relation of his for a chest of drawers, which had never been purchased or received. refusing to pay, he was summoned to the court of r----ts. not knowing how to act, he applied to my informant, who, being under some obligations to his relative, did not like to refuse. "'i am afraid that you will have to pay,' said the attorney to his relation, when he heard the story. "'but i never had them, i can swear to it.' "'that's of no consequence; he will bring men to swear to the delivery. there are hundreds about the court who are ready to take any oath, at half a crown a-head; and that will be sufficient. but, to oblige you, i will see what i can do.' "they parted, and, in a day or two my legal acquaintance called upon his relation, and told him that he had gained his cause. 'rather at the expense of my conscience, i must acknowledge,' continued he; 'but one must fight these scoundrels with their own weapons.' "'well, and how was it?' inquired the other. "'why, as i prophesied, he brought three men forward, who swore to the delivery of the goods. aware that this would be the case, i had provided three others, who swore to their having been witness to the _payment of the bill_! this he was not prepared for; and the verdict was given in your favour.'" "is it possible," exclaimed newton, "that such a court of belial can exist in england?" "even so; and as there is no appeal, pray keep out of it. for my--" but here the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of mr john forster, who had returned from his consultation. we have already described mr john forster's character; we have now only to introduce his person. mr john forster was about the middle height, rather inclined to corpulency, but with great show of muscular strength. his black nether garments and silk stockings fitted a leg which might have been envied by a porter, and his breadth of shoulder was extreme. he had a slouch, probably contracted by long poring over the desk; and his address was as abrupt as his appearance was unpolished. his forehead was large and bald, eye small and brilliant, and his cheeks had dropped down so as to increase the width of his lower jaw. deep, yet not harsh, lines were imprinted on the whole of his countenance, which indicated inflexibility and self-possession. "good morning, gentlemen," said he, as he entered the room; "i hope you have not been waiting long. may i request the pleasure of knowing who came first? 'first come, first served,' is an old motto." "i _believe_ this gentleman came first," replied the young man. "don't you _know_, sir? is it only a _believe_?" "i did arrive first, sir," said newton; "but as i am not here upon legal business, i had rather wait until this gentleman has spoken to you." "not upon legal business--humph!" replied mr forster, eyeing newton. "well, then, if that is the case, do me the favour to sit down in the office until i have communicated with this gentleman." newton, taking up his hat, walked out of the door, which was opened by mr forster, and sat down in the next room until he should be summoned. although the door between them was closed, it was easy to hear the sound of the voices within. for some minutes they fell upon newton's ears; that of the young man like the loud yelping of a cur; that of his uncle like the surly growl of some ferocious beast. at last the door opened: "but, sir," cried the young man, _in alto_. "_pay_, sir, _pay_! i tell you, _pay_!" answered the lawyer, in a stentorian voice. "but he has cheated me, sir!" "never mind--pay!" "charged twice their value, sir!" "i tell you, pay!" "but, sir, such imposition!" "i have told you twenty times, sir, and now tell you again--and for the last time--_pay_!" "won't you take up my cause, sir, then?" "no, sir! i have given you advice, and will not pick your pocket!--good morning, sir:" and mr forster, who had backed his client out of the room, shut the door in his face, to prevent further discussion. the young man looked a moment at the door after it was closed, and then turned round to newton. "if yours is really law business, take my advice, don't stay to see him; i'll take you to a man who _is_ a lawyer. here you'll get no law at all." "thankye," replied newton, laughing; "but mine really is not law business." the noise of the handle of the door indicated that mr forster was about to re-open it to summon newton; and the young man, with a hasty good morning, brushed by newton and hastened into the street. chapter xxix "hamlet.--is not parchment made of sheepskin? horatio.--ay, my lord, and of calves' skins too. hamlet.--they are sheep and calves which seek out their assurance in that." shakespeare. the door opened as intimated at the end of our last chapter, and newton obeyed the injunction from the lawyer's eye to follow him into the room. "now, sir, your pleasure?" said mr forster. "i must introduce myself," replied newton: "i am your nephew, newton forster." "humph! where's your documents in proof of your assertion?" "i did not consider that anything further than my word was necessary. i am the son of your brother, nicholas forster, who resided many years at overton." "i never heard of overton: nicholas i recollect to have been the name of my third brother; but it is upwards of thirty years since i have seen or heard of him. i did not know whether he was alive or dead. well, for the sake of argument, we'll allow that you are my nephew;--what then?" newton coloured up at this peculiar reception. "what then, uncle?--why i did hope that you would have been glad to have seen me; but as you appear to be otherwise, i will wish you good morning;"--and newton moved towards the door. "stop, young man; i presume that you did not come for nothing! before you go, tell me what you came for." "to tell you the truth," replied newton with emotion, "it was to ask your assistance, and your advice; but--" "but jumping up in a huff is not the way to obtain either. sit down on that chair, and tell me what you came for." "to request you would interest yourself in behalf of my father and myself; we are both out of employ, and require your assistance." "or probably i never should have seen you!" "most probably: we knew that you were in good circumstances, and thriving in the world; and as long as we could support ourselves honestly, should not have thrust ourselves upon you. all we wish now is that you will, by your interest and recommendation, put us in the way of being again independent by our own exertions; which we did not consider too much to ask from a brother and an uncle." "humph!--so first you keep aloof from me because you knew that i was able to assist you, and now you come to me for the same reason!" "had we received the least intimation from you that our presence would have been welcome, you would have seen us before." "perhaps so; but i did not know whether i had any relations alive." "had i been in your circumstances, uncle, i should have inquired." "humph!--well, young man, as i find that i have relations, i should like to hear a little about them;--so now tell me all about your father and yourself." newton entered into a detail of the circumstances, with which the reader is already acquainted. when he had finished, his uncle, who had listened with profound attention, his eye fixed upon that of newton, as if to read his inmost thoughts, said, "it appears, then, that your father wishes to prosecute his business as optician. i am afraid that i cannot help him. i wear spectacles certainly when i read; but this pair has lasted me eleven years, and probably will as many more. you wish me to procure you a situation in an east indiaman as third or fourth mate. i know nothing about the sea; i never saw it in my life; nor am i aware that i have a sailor in my acquaintance." "then, uncle, i will take my leave." "not so fast, young man; you said that you wanted my _assistance_ and my _advice_. my assistance i cannot promise you for the reasons i have stated; but my advice is at your service. is it a legal point?" "not exactly, sir," replied newton, who was mortified almost to tears; "still i must acknowledge that i now more than ever wish that the articles were in safe keeping, and out of my hands." newton then entered into a detail of the trunk being picked up at sea; and stated his having brought with him the most valuable of the property, that it might be deposited in safe hands. "humph!" observed his uncle, when he had finished. "you say that the articles are of value." "those who are judges consider the diamonds and the other articles to be worth nearly one hundred pounds; i cannot pretend to say what their real value is." "and you have had these things in your possession these seven years?" "i have, sir." "did it never occur to you, since you have been in distress, that the sale of these articles would have assisted you?" "it often has occurred to me, when i have found that the little i could earn was not sufficient for my father's support; but we had already decided that the property was not _legally mine_, and i dismissed the idea as soon as i could from my thoughts. since then i have ascertained to whom the property belongs, and of course it has become more sacred." "you said a minute ago that you now more than ever wished the property in sate keeping. why so?" "because, disappointed in the hopes i had entertained of receiving your assistance, i foresaw that we should have more difficulties than ever to struggle against, and wished not to be in the way of temptation." "you were right. well, then, bring me those articles to-morrow, by one o'clock precisely; i will take charge of them, and give you a receipt. good morning, nephew; very happy to have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. remember me kindly to my brother, and tell him i shall be happy to see him at one, precisely." "good morning, sir," replied newton, with a faltering voice, as he hurried away to conceal the disappointment and indignation which he felt at this cool reception and dismissal. "not _legally_ mine--humph! i like that boy," muttered the old lawyer to himself when newton had disappeared.--"scratton!" "yes, sir," replied the clerk, opening the door. "fill up a cheque for five hundred pounds, self or bearer, and bring it to me to sign." "yes, sir." "is it this evening or to-morrow, that i attend the arbitration meeting?" "this evening, seven o'clock." "what is the name of the party by whom i am employed?" "bosanquet, sir." "east india director, is he not?" "yes, sir." "humph!--that will do." the clerk brought in the draft, which was put into his pocket-book without being signed; his coat was then buttoned up, and mr john forster repaired to the chop-house, at which for twenty-five years he had seldom failed to make his appearance at the hour of three or four at the latest. it was with a heavy heart that newton returned to the inn in the borough, at which he had left his father, whom he found looking out of window, precisely in the same seat and position where he had left him. "well, newton, my boy, did you see my brother?" "yes, sir; but i am sorry to say that i have little hope of his being of service to us." newton then entered into a narration of what had passed. "why really, newton," said his father, in his single-heartedness, "i do not see such cause of despair. if he did doubt your being his nephew, how could he tell that you were? and if he had no interest with naval people, why it's not his fault. as for my expecting him to break his spectacles on purpose to buy new ones of me, that's too much, and it would be foolish on his part. he said that he was very happy to have made your acquaintance, and that he should be glad to see me. i really don't know what more you could expect. i will call upon him to-morrow, since he wishes it. at five o'clock precisely, don't you say?" "no, sir, at one." "well, then, at one; those who have nothing to do must suit their hours to those who are full of business. recollect now, two o'clock precisely." "one o'clock, sir." "ay, very true, one o'clock i meant; now let's go to dinner." nicholas forster appeared in excellent spirits: and newton, who did not like to undeceive him, was glad to retire at an early hour, that he might be left to his own reflections, and form some plan as to their proceedings in consequence of this unexpected disappointment. chapter xxx "now, by two-headed janus. nature hath named strange fellows in her time; some that will ever more peep through their eyes, and laugh like parrots at a bagpiper; and others of such vinegar aspect, that they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, though nestor swear the jest be laughable." shakespeare. the next forenoon nicholas and his son left the inn in good time to keep their appointment. the weather had changed, and the streets through which they passed were crowded with people who had taken advantage of the fine weather to prosecute business which had admitted of being postponed. nicholas, who stared every way except the right, received many shoves and pushes, at which he expostulated, without the parties taking even the trouble to look behind them as they continued their course. this conduct produced a fit of reverie, out of which he was soon roused by another blow on the shoulder, which would twist him half round; and thus he continued in an alternate state of reverie and excitement, until he was dragged by newton to his brother's chambers. the clerk, who had been ordered to admit them, opened the parlour door, where they found mr john forster, sitting at his table, with his spectacles on, running through a brief. "your servant, young man.--nicholas forster, i presume," said he, taking his eyes off the brief, and looking at forster without rising from his chair. "how do you do, brother?" "are you my brother john?" interrogated nicholas. "i am john forster," replied the lawyer. "well, then, i am really very glad to see you, brother," said nicholas, extending his hand, which was taken with a "humph!"--(a minute's pause.) "young man, you're ten minutes past your time," said john, turning to newton. "i told you _one o'clock precisely_." "i am afraid so," replied newton; "but the streets were crowded, and my father stopped several times." "why did he stop?" "to expostulate with those who elbowed him: he is not used to it." "he soon will be if he stays here long. brother nicholas," said forster, turning round; but perceiving that nicholas had taken up his watch, and was examining the interior, his intended remark was changed. "brother nicholas, what are you doing with my watch?" "it's very dirty," replied nicholas, continuing his examination; "it must be taken to pieces." "indeed it shall not," replied john. "don't be alarmed, i'll do it myself, and charge you nothing." "indeed you will not do it yourself, brother. my watch goes very well when it's left alone. do me the favour to hand it to me." nicholas shut up the watch, and handed it to his brother over the table. "it ought not to go well in that state, brother." "but i tell you that it _does_, brother," replied john, putting the watch into his fob. "i have brought the things that i mentioned, sir," said newton, taking them out of his handkerchief. "very well; have you the inventory?" "yes, sir, here it is." "no. i, a diamond ring." "no. --" "i should rather think that they were no. ," observed nicholas, who had taken up his brother's spectacles. "you're not very short-sighted, brother." "i am not, brother nicholas;--will you oblige me by giving me my spectacles?" "yes, i'll wipe them for you first," said nicholas, commencing his polish with an old cotton handkerchief. "thanky, thanky, brother, that will do," replied john, holding out his hand for the spectacles, which he immediately put in the case and conveyed into his pocket. the lawyer then continued the inventory. "it is all right, young man; i will sign a receipt." the receipt was signed, and the articles deposited in the iron chest. "now, brother nicholas, i have no time to spare; have you anything to say to me?" "no," replied nicholas, starting up. "well, then, i have something to say to you. in the first place, i cannot help you in your profession (as i told my nephew yesterday), neither can i afford you any time, which is precious: so good-bye, brother. here is something for you to read when you go home." john forster took out his pocket-book, and gave him a sealed letter. "nephew, although i never saw the sea, or knew a sailor in my life, yet the law pervades everywhere. an east india director, who is under obligations to me, has promised a situation for you as third mate on board of the _bombay castle_. here is his address: call upon him, and all will be arranged. _you_ may come here again before you sail; and i expect you will make proper arrangements for your father, who, if i can judge from what i have already seen, will lose that paper i have given him, which contains what is not to be picked up every day." nicholas was in a deep reverie; the letter had dropped from his hand, and had fallen, unnoticed by him, on the carpet. newton picked it up, and, without nicholas observing him, put it into his own pocket. "now, good-bye, nephew; take away my brother, pray. it's a good thing, i can tell you, sometimes to find out an uncle." "i trust my conduct will prove me deserving of your kindness," replied newton, who was overjoyed at the unexpected issue of the meeting. "i hope it will, young man. good morning. now, take away your father, i'm busy;" and old forster pulled out his spectacles, and recommenced his brief. newton went up to his father, touched him on the shoulder, and said in a low tone, and nodding his head towards the door--"come, father." nicholas got upon his legs, retreated a few steps, then turned round--"brother, didn't you say something about a letter i was to put in the post?" "no, i didn't," replied john, shortly, not raising his eyes from the brief. "well, i really thought i heard something--" "come, father; my uncle's busy." "well, then, good-bye, brother." "good-bye," replied john, without looking up; and newton with his father, quitted the room. no conversation passed during the walk to the inn, except an accidental remark of nicholas, that it appeared to him that his brother was very busy. when they arrived newton hastened to open the enclosure, and found in it the draft for £ , which his uncle had ordered to be filled up the day before. nicholas was lost in astonishment; and newton, although he had already gained some insight into his uncle's character, was not a little surprised at his extreme liberality. "now," cried nicholas, rubbing his hands, "my improvement upon the duplex;" and the subject brought up by himself again led him away, and he was in deep thought. there was one little piece of advice upon the envelope--"when you cash the draft take the number of your notes." this was all; and it was carefully attended to by newton, who took but £ , and left the remainder in the hands of the banker. the next day newton called on the east india director, who gave him a letter to the captain of the ship, lying at gravesend, and expecting to sail in a few days. to gravesend he immediately repaired, and, presenting his credentials, was favourably received, with an intimation that his company was required as soon as convenient. newton had now no other object to occupy him than to secure an asylum for his father; and this he was fortunate enough to meet with when he little expected. he had disembarked at greenwich, intending to return to london by the coach, when, having an hour to spare, he sauntered into the hospital, to view a building which had so much of interest to a sailor. after a few minutes' survey he sat down on a bench, occupied by several pensioners, outside of the gate, wishing to enter into conversation with them relative to their condition, when one addressed another--"why, stephen, since the old man's dead, there's no one that'll suit us; and i expects that we must contrive to do without blinkers at all. jim nelson told me the other day that that fellow in town as has his shop full of polished brass, all the world like the quarter-deck of the _le amphitrite_, when that sucking honourable (what was his name?) commanded her--jim said to me, as how he charged him one-and-sixpence for a new piece of flint for his starboard eye. now you know that old wilkins never axed no more than threepence. now, how we're to pay at that rate comes to more than my knowledge. jim hadn't the dirt, although he had brought his threepence; so his blinkers are left there in limbo." "we must find out another man; the shop's to let, and all handy. suppose we speak to the governor?" "no use to speak to the governor; he don't use blinkers; and so won't have no fellow-feeling." newton entered into conversation, and found that an old man, who gained his livelihood in a small shop close to the gate, by repairing the spectacles of the pensioners, had lately died, and that his loss was severely felt by them, as the opticians in town did not work at so reasonable a rate. newton looked at the shop, which was small and comfortable, commanding a pleasant view of the river; and he was immediately convinced that it would suit his father. on his return he proposed it to nicholas, who was delighted at the idea; and the next day they viewed the premises together, and took a short lease. in a few days nicholas was settled in his new habitation, and busily employed in enabling the old pensioners to read the newspapers and count their points at cribbage. he liked his customers, and they liked him. his gains were equal to his wants; and, unless on particular occasions--such as a new coat, which, like his birthday, occurred but once in the year--he never applied to the banker's for assistance. newton, as soon as his father was settled, and his own affairs arranged, called upon his uncle previous to his embarkation. old forster gave a satisfactory "humph!" to his communication; and newton, who had tact enough to make his visit short, received a cordial shake of the hand when he quitted the room. chapter xxxi "poor, short-lived things! what plans we lay! ah! why forsake our native home, to distant climates speed away, for self sticks close, where'er we roam. "care follows hard, and soon o'ertakes the well-rigg'd ship; the warlike steed her destin'd quarry ne'er forsakes: nor the wind flees with half the speed." cowper. newton, who had made every preparation, as soon as he had taken leave of his uncle, hastened to join his ship, which still remained at gravesend, waiting for the despatches to be closed by the twenty-four leaden heads presiding at leadenhall street. the passengers, with the exception of two, a scotch presbyterian divine and his wife, were still on shore, divided amongst the inns of the town, unwilling until the last moment to quit _terra firma_ for so many months of sky and water, daily receiving a visit from the captain of the ship, who paid his respects to them all round, imparting any little intelligence he might have received as to the probable time of his departure. when newton arrived on board, he was received by the first mate, a rough, good-humoured, and intelligent man, about forty years of age, to whom he had already been introduced by the captain on his previous appearance with the letter from the director. "well, mr forster, you're in very good time. as in all probability we shall be shipmates for a voyage or two, i trust that we shall be good friends. now for your _traps_:" then, turning round, he addressed, in the hindostanee language, two or three lascars (fine, olive-coloured men, with black curling bushy hair), who immediately proceeded to hoist in the luggage. the first mate, with an "excuse me a moment," went forward to give some directions to the english seamen, leaving forster to look about him. what he observed, we shall describe for the benefit of our readers. the indiaman was a twelve-hundred-ton ship, as large as one of the small class seventy-four in the king's service, strongly built, with lofty bulwarks, and pierced on the upper deck for eighteen guns, which were mounted on the quarter-deck and forecastle. abaft, a poop, higher than the bulwarks, extended forward, between thirty and forty feet, under which was the cuddy or dining-room, and state-cabins, appropriated to passengers. the poop, upon which you ascended by ladders on each side, was crowded with long ranges of coops, tenanted by every variety of domestic fowl, awaiting, in happy unconsciousness, the day when they should be required to supply the luxurious table provided by the captain. in some, turkeys stretched forth their long necks, and tapped the decks as they picked up some ant who crossed it, in his industry. in others, the crowing of cocks and calling of the hens were incessant: or the geese, ranged up rank and file, waited but the signal from one of the party to raise up a simultaneous clamour, which as suddenly was remitted. coop answered coop, in variety of discord, while the poulterer walked round and round to supply the wants of so many hundreds committed to his charge. the booms before the main-mast were occupied by the large boats, which had been hoisted in preparatory to the voyage. they also composed a portion of the farmyard. the launch contained about fifty sheep, wedged together so close that it was with difficulty they could find room to twist their jaws round, as they chewed the cud. the stern-sheets of the barge and yawl were filled with goats and two calves, who were the first-destined victims to the butcher's knife; while the remainder of their space was occupied by hay and other provender, pressed down by powerful machinery into the smallest compass. the occasional ba-aing and bleating on the booms were answered by the lowing of three milch-cows between the hatchways of the deck below; where also were to be descried a few more coops, containing fowls and rabbits. the manger forward had been dedicated to the pigs; but, as the cables were not yet unbent or bucklers shipped, they at present were confined by gratings between the main-deck guns, where they grunted at each passer-by, as if to ask for food. the boats hoisted up on the quarters, and the guys of the davits, to which they were suspended, formed the kitchen-gardens, from which the passengers were to be supplied, and were loaded with bags containing onions, potatoes, turnips, carrots, beets, and cabbages, the latter, in their full round proportions, hanging in a row upon the guys, like strings of heads, which had been demanded in the wrath or the caprice of some despot of mahomet's creed. forster descended the ladder to the main-deck, which he found equally encumbered with cabins for the passengers, trunks and bedding belonging to them, and many other articles which had not yet found their way into the hold, the hatches of which were open, and in which lanterns in every direction partially dispelled the gloom, and offered to his view a confused outline of bales and packages. carpenters sawing deals, sailmakers roping the foot of an old mainsail, servants passing to and fro with dishes, lascars jabbering in their own language, british seamen d-----g their eyes, as usual, in plain english, gave an idea of confusion and want of method to newton forster, which, in a short time, he acknowledged himself to have been premature in having conceived. where you have to provide for such a number, to separate the luggage of so many parties, from the heavy chest to the fragile bandbox, to take in cargo, and prepare for sea, all at the same time, there must be apparently confusion. in a few days everything finds its place; and, what is of more consequence, is itself to be found as soon as it may be required. according to the regulations on board of east india ships, forster messed below with the junior mates, midshipmen, surgeon's assistant, &c.: the first and second mates only having the privilege of constantly appearing at the captain's table, while the others receive but an occasional invitation. forster soon became on intimate terms with his shipmates. as they will, however, appear upon the stage when required to perform their parts, we shall at present confine ourselves to a description of the captain and the passengers. captain drawlock was a man of about fifty years of age. report said that in his youth he had been wild; and some of his contemporary commanders in the service were wont to plague him by narrating divers freaks of former days, the recollection of which would create anything but a smile upon his face. whether report and the other captains were correct or not in their assertions, captain drawlock was in appearance quite a different character at the time we introduce him. he was of sedate aspect, seldom smiled, and appeared to be wrapt up in the importance of the trust confided to him, particularly with respect to the young women who were sent out under his protection. he talked much of his responsibility, and divided the whole of his time between his chronometers and his young ladies; in both of which a trifling error was a source of irritation. upon any deviation on the part of either, the first were rated carefully, the latter were _rated soundly_; considering the safety of the ship to be endangered on the one hand, and the character of his ship to be equally at stake on the other.' it was maliciously observed that the latter were by far the more erratic of the two; and, still more maliciously, that the austere behaviour on the part of captain drawlock was all pretence; that he was as susceptible as the youngest officer in the ship; and that the women found it out long before the voyage was completed. it has been previously mentioned that all the passengers were on shore, except two, a presbyterian divine and his wife, the expenses attending whose passage out were provided for by a subscription which had been put on foot by some of the serious people of glasgow, who prayed fervently, and enlivened their devotions with most excellent punch. the worthy clergyman (for worthy he was) thought of little else but his calling, and was a sincere, enthusiastic man, who was not to be checked by any consideration in what he considered to be his duty; but although he rebuked, he rebuked mildly, and never lost his temper. stern in his creed, which allowed no loophole by which the offender might escape, still there was a kindness and even a humility in his expostulation, which caused his zeal never to offend, and often to create serious reflection. his wife was a tall, handsome woman, who evidently had usurped an ascendency over her husband in all points unconnected with his calling. she, too, was devout; but hers was not the true religion, for it had not charity for its basis. she was clever and severe; spoke seldom; but the few words which escaped from her lips were sarcastic in their tendency. the passengers who still remained on shore were numerous. there was an old colonel, returning from a three years' furlough, the major part of which had been spent at cheltenham. he was an adonis of sixty, with yellow cheeks and white teeth; a man who had passed through life doing nothing; had risen in his profession without having seen service, except on one occasion, and of that circumstance he made the most. with a good constitution and happy temperament, constantly in society, and constantly in requisition, he had grown old without being aware of it, and considered himself as much an object of interest with the other sex as he was formerly when a gay captain of five-and-twenty, with good prospects. amusing, and easily amused, he had turned over the pages of the novel of life so uninterruptedly, that he had nearly arrived at the last page without being conscious that the finis was at hand. then there were two cadets from the college, full of themselves and their own consequence, fitted out with plenty of money and plenty of advice, both of which were destined to be thrown away. there was also a young writer, who talked of his mother, lady elizabeth, and other high relations, who had despatched him to india, that he might be provided for by a cholera morbus or a lucrative post; a matter of perfect indifference to those who had sent him from england. then, let me see,--oh! there were two officers of a regiment at st helena, with tongues much longer than their purses; who, in the forepart of the day, condescended to talk nonsense to the fairer of the other sex, and, in the evening, to win a few pounds from the weaker of their own. but all these were nobodies in the eyes of captain drawlock; they were a part of his cargo, for which he was not responsible. the important part of his consignment were four unmarried women; three of them were young, good-looking, and poor; the other ill-favoured, old, but rich. we must give precedence to wealth and age. the lady last mentioned was a miss tavistock, born and educated in the city, where her father had long been at the head of the well-established firm of tavistock, bottlecock & co., dyers, calenderers, and scourers. as we before observed, she was the fortunate sole heiress to her father's accumulation, which might amount to nearly thirty thousand pounds; but had been little gifted by nature. in fact, she was what you may style most preposterously ugly; her figure was large and masculine; her hair red; and her face very deeply indented with the small-pox. as a man, she would have been considered the essence of vulgarity; as a woman, she was the quintessence: so much so, that she had arrived at the age of thirty-six without having, notwithstanding her property, received any attentions which could be construed into an offer. as we always seek most eagerly that which we find most difficult to obtain, she was possessed with _une fureur de se marier_; and, as a last resource, had resolved to go out to india, where she had been informed that "anything white" was acceptable. this _passion_ for matrimony (for with her it had so become, if not a disease) occupied her whole thoughts; but she attempted to veil them by always pretending to be extremely sensitive and refined; to be shocked at anything which had the slightest allusion to the "increase and multiply;" and constantly lamented the extreme fragility of her constitution; to which her athletic bony frame gave so determined a lie, that her hearers were struck dumb with the barefaced assertion. miss tavistock had kept up a correspondence with an old schoolmate, who had been taken away early to join her friends in india, and had there married. as her hopes of matrimony dwindled away, so did her affection for her old friend appear, by her letters, to increase. at last, in answer to a letter, in which she declared that she would like to come out, and (as she had long made a resolution to continue single) adopt one of her friend's children, and pass her days with them, she received an answer, stating how happy they would be to receive her, and personally renew the old friendship, if indeed she could be persuaded to venture upon so long and venturous a passage. whether this answer was sincere or not, miss tavistock took advantage of the invitation; and writing to intimate her speedy arrival, took her passage in the _bombay castle_. the other three spinsters were sisters: charlotte, laura, and isabel revel, daughters of the honourable mr revel, a _roué_ of excellent family, who had married for money, and had dissipated all his wife's fortune except the marriage settlement of £ per annum. their mother was a selfish, short-sighted, manoeuvring woman, whose great anxiety was to form establishments for her daughters, or, in other terms, remove the expense of their maintenance from her own to the shoulders of other people, very indifferent whether the change might contribute to their happiness or not. mr revel may be said to have long deserted his family; he lived nobody knew where, and seldom called, unless it was to "raise the wind" upon his wife, who by entreaties and threats was necessitated to purchase his absence by a sacrifice of more than half her income. of his daughters he took little notice, when he _did_ make his appearance; and if so, it was generally in terms more calculated to raise the blush of indignant modesty than to stimulate the natural feelings of affection of a daughter towards a parent. their mother, whose income was not sufficient to meet the demands of a worthless husband, in addition to the necessary expenses attendant on three grown-up women, was unceasing in her attempts to get them off her hands: but we will introduce a conversation which took place between her and a sedate-looking, powdered old gentleman, who had long been considered as a "friend of the family," as thereby more light will perhaps be thrown upon her character. "the fact is, my dear mr heaviside, that i hardly know what to do. mr revel, who is very intimate with the theatre people, proposed that they should try their fortune on the stage. he says (and indeed there is some truth in it) that nowadays, the best plan for a man to make himself popular is to be sent to newgate; and the best chance that a girl has of a coronet, is to become an actress. well, i did not much like the idea; but at last i consented. isabel, my youngest, is, you know, very handsome in her person, and sings remarkably well, and we arranged that she should go on first; and, if she succeeded, that her sister charlotte should follow her; but isabel is of a very obstinate disposition, and when we proposed it to her, she peremptorily refused, and declared that she would go out as a governess, or anything, rather than consent. i tried what coaxing would do, and her father tried threatening; but all was in vain. this was about a year ago, and she is now only seventeen; but she ever was a most decided, a most obstinate character." "very undutiful, indeed, ma'am; she might have been a duchess before this:--a very foolish girl, indeed, ma'am," observed the gentleman. "well, mr heaviside, we then thought that charlotte, our eldest, had the next best chance of success. although not by any means so good-looking as her sister; indeed, to tell you the truth, mr heaviside, which i would not do to everybody, but i know that you can keep a secret, charlotte is now nearly thirty years old, and her sister, laura, only one year younger." "is it possible, madam!" replied mr heaviside, looking at the lady with well-feigned astonishment. "yes, indeed," replied the lady, who had forgotten that in telling her daughters' secrets, she had let out her own. "but i was married so young, so very young, that i am almost ashamed to think of it. well mr heaviside, as i was saying, although not so good-looking as her sister, mr revel, who is a good judge in these matters, declared that by the theatre lights charlotte would be reckoned a very fine woman. we proposed it to her, and, after a little pouting, she consented. the only difficulty was whether she should attempt tragedy or comedy. her features were considered rather too sharp for comedy, and her figure not quite tall enough for tragedy. she herself preferred tragedy, which decided the point; and mr revel, who knows all the actors, persuaded mr y---- (you know who i mean, the great tragic actor) to come here, and give his opinion of her recitation. mr y---- was excessively polite; declared that she was a young lady of great talent, but that a slight lisp, which she has, unfitted her most decidedly for tragedy. of course, it was abandoned for comedy, which she studied some time, and when we considered her competent, mr revel had interest enough to induce the great mr m---- to come and give his opinion. charlotte performed her part, as i thought, remarkably well, and when she had finished she left the room, that mr m---- might not be checked by her presence from giving me his unbiased opinion." "which was favourable, ma'am, i presume; for, if not fitted for the one, she naturally must have been fit for the other." "so i thought," replied the lady, to this polite _non sequitur_ of the gentleman. "but mr m---- is a very odd man, and if i must say it, not very polite. what do you think, mr heaviside, as soon as she left the room he rose from his chair, and, twisting up the corner of his mouth, as he looked me in the face, he said, 'madam, it is my opinion that your daughter's comedy, whenever she makes her appearance on the boards, will, to use a yankee expression, _be most particularly damned_! i wish you a very good morning.'" "very rude, indeed, madam; most excessively unpolite of mr m----. i should not have thought it possible." "well, mr heaviside, as for laura, poor thing! you are aware that she is not quite so clever as she might be; she never had any memory: when a child, she never could recollect the evening hymn if she missed it two nights running; so that acting was out of the question with her. so that all my hopes of their forming a splendid establishment by that channel have vanished. now, my dear mr heaviside, what would you propose?" "why, really, ma'am, it is so difficult to advise in these times; but, if anxious to dispose of your daughters, why not send them out to india?" "we have thought of it several times; for mr revel has an uncle there unmarried, and they say very rich. he is a colonel in the bombay marine, i believe." "more probably in the bengal army, ma'am." "well, i believe you are right; but i know it's in the company's service. but the old gentleman hates my husband, and will not have anything to say to him. i did write a very civil letter to him, in which i just hinted how glad one or two of my daughters would be to take care of his house, but he never condescended to give me an answer. i am told that he is a very unpleasant man." "a difficult thing to advise, ma'am, very difficult indeed! but i can tell you a circumstance which occurred about five years ago, when a similar application to a relative in india was made by a friend of mine. it was no more attended to than yours has been. nevertheless, as it was supposed that the answer had miscarried, the young lady was sent out to her relative with a decent equipment, and a letter of introduction. her relation was very much surprised: but what could he do? he could not permit the young lady to remain without a roof over her head, so he received her, and as he did not like to say how he had been treated, he held his tongue. the young lady, in the course of three months, made a very good match; and is, to my knowledge, constantly sending home india shawls and other handsome presents to her mother." "indeed, mr heaviside, then do you advise--" "it is difficult, extremely difficult to advise upon so nice a point. i only state the fact, my dear madam: i should think the colonel must feel the want of female society; but, god bless me! it's nearly two o'clock. good morning, my dear mrs revel--good morning." "good morning, my dear mr heaviside; it's very kind of you to call in this sociable way and chat an hour or two. good morning." the result of the above conversation was a consultation between mr revel and his wife upon their first meeting. mr revel was delighted with the plan, not so much caring at the disposal of his daughters as he was pleased with the idea of annoying his uncle, from whom he, at one time, had great expectations; but, as it was necessary to be circumspect, especially with isabel, mr revel took the opportunity of a subsequent visit to state that he had received a letter from his uncle in india, wishing one of his daughters to go out and live with him. in a few months he read another letter (composed by himself, and copied in another hand), earnestly desiring that they might all come out to him, as it would be much to their advantage. the reluctance of the two eldest was removed by pointing out the magnificent establishments they might secure: the consent of isabel by a statement of difficulty and debt on the part of her parents, which would end in beggary if not relieved from the burden of their support. by insuring her life, a sum of money sufficient for their outfit and passage was raised on mrs revel's marriage settlement; and the three miss revels were thus shipped off by their affectionate parents, as a "venture," in the _bombay castle._ chapter xxxii "thus the rich vessel moves in trim array, like some fair virgin on her bridal day: thus like a swan, she cleaves the watery plain, the pride and wonder of the �gean main. "the natives, while the ship departs the land, ashore, with admiration gazing stand; majestically slow before the breeze, in silent pomp, she marches on the seas." falconer. much to the satisfaction of captain drawlock, the chronometers and the ladies were safe on board, and the _bombay castle_ proceeded to the downs, where she was joined by the purser, charged with despatches of the august directors. once upon a time a director was a very great man, and the india board a very great board. there must have been a very great many plums in the pudding, for in this world people do not take trouble for nothing; and until latter years, how eagerly, how perseveringly was this situation applied for--what supplicating advertisements--what fawning and wheedling promises of attention to the interests of the proprietors--"your voices, good people!" but now nobody is so particularly anxious to be a director, because another board "bigger than he" has played the kittiwake, and forced it to disgorge for the consumption of its superior,--i mean the board of control: the reader has probably heard of it; the board which, not content with the european residents in india being deprived of their proudest birthright, "the liberty of the press," would even prevent them from having justice awarded to them, by directing two tame elephants (thereby implying two ---- ----) to be placed on each side of a wild one (thereby implying an honest and conscientious man). notwithstanding all which, for the present, the tongue, the ears, and the eyes are permitted to be made discreet use of, although i believe that the new charter is to have a clause introduced to the contrary. the prevalent disease of the time we live in is ophthalmia of intellect, affecting the higher classes. monarchs, stone-blind, have tumbled headlong from their thrones, and princes have been conducted by their subjects out of their principalities. the aristocracy are purblind, and cannot distinctly decipher the "signs of the times." the hierarchy cannot discover why people would have religion at a reduced price: in fact, they are all blind, and will not perceive that an enormous mass, in the shape of public opinion, hangs over their heads and threatens to annihilate them. forgetting that kings, and princes, and lords, spiritual or temporal, have all been raised to their various degrees of exaltation by public opinion alone, they talk of legitimacy, of vested rights, and deuteronomy.--well, if there is to be a general tumble, thank god, i can't fall far! we left the _bombay castle_ in the downs, where she remained until joined by several other india vessels. on the arrival of a large frigate, who had orders to escort them as far as the island of st helena, they all weighed, and bore down the channel before a strong s.e. gale. the first ten days of a voyage there is seldom much communication between those belonging to the ship and the passengers; the former are too much occupied in making things shipshape, and the latter with the miseries of sea-sickness. an adverse gale in the bay of biscay, with which they had to contend, did not at all contribute to the recovery of the digestive powers of the latter; and it was not until a day or two before the arrival of the convoy at madeira that the ribbon of a bonnet was to be seen fluttering in the breeze which swept the decks of the _bombay castle_. the first which rose up from the quarter-deck hatchway was one that encircled the head of mrs ferguson, the wife of the presbyterian divine, who crawled up the ladder, supported on one side by her husband, and on the other by the assiduous captain drawlock. "very well done, ma'am, indeed!" said the captain, with an encouraging smile, as the lady seized hold of the copper stanchions which surrounded the sky-lights, to support herself, when she had gained the deck. "you're a capital sailor, and have by your conduct set an example to the other ladies, as i have no doubt your husband does to the gentlemen. now allow me to offer you my arm." "will you take mine also, my dear," said mr ferguson. "no, mr ferguson," replied the lady, tartly; "i think it is enough for you to take care of yourself. recollect your scripture proverb of 'the blind leading the blind.' i have no inclination to tumble into one of those pits," added she, pointing to the hatchway. captain drawlock very civilly dragged the lady to the weather-side of the quarter-deck, where, after in vain attempting to walk, she sat down on one of the carronade slides. "the fresh air will soon revive you, ma'am; you'll be much better directly," observed the attentive captain. "i beg your pardon one moment, but there is another lady coming out of the cuddy." the cabins abaft the cuddy, or dining-room, were generally occupied by the more distinguished and wealthy passengers (a proportionate sum being charged extra for them). the good people of glasgow, with a due regard to economy, had not run themselves into such unnecessary expenses for the passage of mr and mrs ferguson. mr revel, aware of the effect produced by an appearance of wealth, had taken one of them for his daughters. the other had been secured by miss tavistock, much to the gratification of the captain, who thus had his unmarried ladies and his chronometers both immediately under his own eye. the personage who had thus called away the attention of the captain was isabel revel, whom, although she has already been mentioned, it will be necessary to describe more particularly to the reader. isabel revel was now eighteen years old, endowed with a mind so superior, that had not her talents been checked by a natural reserve, she might have stepped from the crowd, and have been hailed as a genius. she had been brought up by a foolish mother, and had in her earlier years been checked by her two insipid sisters, who assumed over her an authority which their age alone could warrant. seldom, if ever, permitted to appear when there was company, that she might not "spoil the market" of the eldest, she had in her solitude applied much to reading, and thus had her mind been highly cultivated. the conduct of her father entitled him to no respect; the heartlessness of her mother to no esteem; the tyranny of her sisters to no affection; yet did she strive to render all. until the age of sixteen she had been the cinderella of the family, during which period of seclusion she had learned to think and to act for herself. her figure was a little above the middle size, light and elegant; her features beautiful, with an expression of seriousness, arising probably from speaking little and reflecting much. yet she possessed a mind ardent and enthusiastic, which often bore her away in animated discourse, until the eye of admiration fixed upon her would suddenly close her lips, for her modesty and her genius were at perpetual variance. it is well known to most of my readers that woman is a problem; but it may not be as well known that nowadays she is a _mathematical problem_. yet so it is. as in the latter you have certain known quantities given by which you are to find a quantity unknown, so in a lady you have the hand, the foot, the mouth, &c., apparent; and 'tis only by calculation, now that modern dresses are made so full, that you can arrive at a just estimate of her approach to total perfection. all good arithmeticians, as they scrutinised the outward and the visible of isabel revel, were perfectly assured as to her quotient. but if i talked for hours, i could say no more than that she was one of those ideal images created in the dream of youth and poetry, fairly embodied in flesh and blood. as her father had justly surmised, could she have been persuaded to have tried her fortune on the stage, she had personal attractions, depth of feeling, and vivacity of mind to have rendered her one of the very first in a profession, to excel in which there is, perhaps, more correct judgment and versatility of talent required than in any other, and would have had a fair prospect of obtaining that coronet which has occasionally been the reward of those fair dames who "stoop to conquer." mr revel, who had been made acquainted with the customs on board of east india ships, had been introduced to mrs ferguson, and had requested her to take upon herself the office of _chaperon_ to his daughters, during the passage: a nominal charge indeed, yet considered to be etiquette. mrs ferguson, pleased with the gentlemanlike demeanour and personal appearance of mr revel, and perhaps at the same time not sorry to have an authority to find fault, had most graciously acquiesced; and the three miss revels were considered to be under her protection. as i said before, miss isabel revel made her appearance not unattended, for she was escorted by doctor plausible, the surgeon of the ship. and now i must again digress while i introduce that gentleman. i never shall get that poor girl from the cuddy-door. doctor plausible had been summoned to prescribe for miss laura revel, who suffered extremely from the motion of the vessel, and the remedies which she had applied to relieve her uneasiness. miss laura revel had been told by somebody, previous to her embarkation, that the most effectual remedy for sea-sickness was gingerbread. in pursuance of the advice received, she had provided herself with ten or twelve squares of this commodity, about one foot by eighteen inches, which squares she had commenced upon as soon as she came on board, and had never ceased to swallow, notwithstanding various interruptions. the more did her stomach reject it the more did she force it down, until, what with deglutition, _et vice versa_, she had been reduced to a state of extreme weakness, attended with fever. how many panaceas have been offered without success for two evils--sea-sickness and hydrophobia! and between these two there appears to be a link, for sea-sickness as surely ends in hydrophobia, as hydrophobia does in death. the sovereign remedy prescribed, when i first went to sea, was a piece of fat pork, tied to a string, to be swallowed, and then pulled up again; the dose to be repeated until effective. i should not have mentioned this well-known remedy, as it has long been superseded by other nostrums, were it not that this maritime prescription has been the origin of two modern improvements in the medical catalogue--one is the stomach-pump, evidently borrowed from this simple engine; the other is the very successful prescription now in vogue, to those who are weak in the digestive organs, to eat fat bacon for breakfast, which i have no doubt was suggested to doctor vance, from what he had been eye-witness to on board of a man-of-war. but here i am digressing again from doctor plausible to doctor vance. reader, i never lose the opportunity of drawing a moral; and what an important one is here! observe how difficult it is to regain the right path when once you have quitted it. let my error be a warning to you in your journey through life, and my digressions preserve you from diverging from the beaten track, which, as the americans would say, leads _clean slick_ on to happiness and peace. doctor plausible was a personable man, apparently about five-and-thirty years old; he wore a little powder in his hair, black silk stockings, and knee-breeches. in this i consider doctor plausible was right; the above look much more scientific than wellington trousers; and much depends upon the exterior. he was quite a ladies' man; talked to them about their extreme sensibility, their peculiar fineness of organic structure, their delicacy of nerves; and soothed his patients more by flattery than by physic. having discovered that miss laura was not inclined to give up her gingerbread, he immediately acknowledged its virtues, but recommended that it should be cut into extremely small dice, and allowed, as it were, to melt away upon the tongue; stating, that her digestive organs were so refined and delicate, that they would not permit themselves to be loaded with any large particles, even of farinaceous compound. isabel revel, who had been informed that mrs ferguson was on deck, expressed a wish to escape from the confined atmosphere of the cabin; and dr plausible, as soon as he had prescribed for miss laura, offered miss isabel his services; which, for want of a better, perhaps, were accepted. the ship at this time had a great deal of motion. the gale was spent; but the sea created by the violence of the wind had not yet subsided, and the waves continued still to rise and fall again, like the panting breasts of men who have just desisted from fierce contention. captain drawlock hastened over to receive his charge from the hands of the medical attendant; and paying isabel some compliments on her appearance, was handing her over to the weather-side, where mrs ferguson was seated, when a sea of larger dimensions than usual careened the ship to what the sailors term a "heavy lurch." the decks were wet and slippery. captain drawlock lost his footing, and was thrown to leeward. isabel would most certainly have kept him company; and indeed was already under weigh for the lee-scuppers, had not it been that newton forster, who stood near, caught her round the waist, and prevented her from falling. it certainly was a great presumption to take a young lady round the waist previous to any introduction; but, at sea, we are not very particular; and if we do perceive that a lady is in danger of a severe fall, we do not stand upon etiquette. what is more remarkable, we generally find that the ladies excuse our unpolished manners, either upon the score of our good intentions, or because there is nothing so very impertinent in them, after all. certain it is, that isabel, as soon as she had recovered from her alarm, thanked newton forster, with a sweet smile, for his timely aid, as she again took the arm of captain drawlock, who escorted her to the weather-side of the quarter-deck. "i have brought you one of your _protegees_, mrs ferguson," said captain drawlock. "how do you feel, miss revel?" "like most young ladies, sir, a little giddy," replied isabel. "i hope you were not hurt, captain drawlock; i'm afraid that you fell by paying more attention to me than to yourself." "my duty, miss revel. allow me to add, my pleasure," replied the captain, bowing. "that's very politely said, captain drawlock," replied isabel. "almost too polite, i think," observed mrs ferguson (who was out of humour at not being the first object of attention), "considering that captain drawlock is a married man, with seven children." the captain looked glum, and miss revel observing it, turned the conversation by inquiring--"who was that gentleman who saved me from falling?" "mr newton forster, one of the mates of the vessel. would you like to walk, miss revel, or remain where you are?" "thank you, i will stay with mrs ferguson." the gentlemen passengers had as yet but occasionally appeared on deck. men generally suffer more from the distressing sickness than women. as soon, however, as the news had been communicated below that the ladies were on deck, some of the gentlemen immediately repaired to their trunks to make themselves presentable, and then hastened on deck. the first on deck was the old colonel, who tottered up the hatchway, and by dint of seizing rope after rope, at last succeeded in advancing his lines to within hearing range of mrs ferguson, to whom he had been formally introduced. he commenced by lamenting his unfortunate sufferings, which had prevented him from paying those attentions, ever to him a source of enjoyment and gratification; but he was a martyr--quite a martyr; never felt any sensation which could be compared to it, except when he was struck in the breast with a spent ball, in the battle of ----; that their appearance had made him feel revived already; that as the world would be a dark prison without the sun, so would a ship be without the society of ladies; commenced a description of calcutta, and then--made a hasty retreat to the lee-gangway. the young writer next made his appearance, followed by the two boys, who were going out as cadets; the first, with a new pair of grey kid gloves, the others in their uniforms. the writer descanted long upon his own miseries, without any inquiry or condolement for the sufferings of the ladies. the cadets said nothing; but stared so much at isabel revel, that she dropped her veil. the ladies had been about a quarter of an hour on deck, when the sun, which had not shown itself for two days, gleamed through the clouds. newton, who was officer of the watch, and had been accustomed, when with mr berecroft, to work a chronometer, interrupted the captain, who was leaning on the carronade, talking to mrs ferguson. "the sun is out, and the horizon pretty clear, sir: you may have sights for the chronometers." "yes, indeed," said the captain, looking up; "be quick, and fetch my sextant. you'll excuse me, ladies, but the chronometers must be attended to." "in preference to us, captain drawlock?--fie, for shame!" replied mrs ferguson. "why, not exactly," replied the captain, "not exactly; but the fact is, that the sun may go in again." "and we can stay out, i presume?" replied isabel, laughing. "i think, mrs ferguson, we ought to go in too." "but, my dear young lady, if the sun goes in, i shall not get a _sight!_" "and if we go in, you will not get a sight either," replied mrs ferguson. "between the two, sir," observed newton, handing captain drawlock his sextant, "you stand a chance of losing both. there's no time to spare; i'm all ready." captain drawlock walked to the break of the gangways, so far concealed from the ladies that they could not perceive that he was looking through his sextant, the use of which they did not comprehend, having never seen one before. newton stood at the capstern, with his eyes fixed on the watch. "captain drawlock," said mrs ferguson, calling to him, "allow me to observe--" "_stop_," cried captain drawlock, in a loud voice. newton, to whom this was addressed, noted the time. "good heavens! what can be the matter;" said mrs ferguson, with astonishment, to those near her; "how excessively rude of captain drawlock;--what can it be?" continued she, addressing the colonel, who had rejoined them. "really, madam, i cannot tell; but it is my duty to inquire," replied the colonel, who, going up to captain drawlock, commenced--"have the ladies already so fallen in your estimation--" "forty degrees!" cried captain drawlock, who was intent upon his sextant. "excuse me, sir, just now." "when will you be at leisure, sir?" resumed the colonel, haughtily. "twenty-six minutes," continued the captain, reading off his sextant. "a little sooner, i should hope, sir," retorted the colonel. "forty-five seconds." "this is really quite insufferable! miss revel, we had better go in." "stop!" again cried captain drawlock, in a loud voice. "stop!" repeated mrs ferguson, angrily; "surely we are not slaves." newton, who heard what was passing, could not repress his laughter. "indeed, i am sure there must be some mistake, mrs ferguson," observed isabel. "wait a little." "forty-six minutes, thirty seconds," again read off the captain. "capital sights both! but the sun is behind that dark cloud, and we shall have no more of his presence." "nor of ours, i assure you, sir," said mrs ferguson, rising, as captain drawlock walked from the gangway to the capstern. "why, my dear madam, what is the matter?" "we have not been accustomed to such peremptory language, sir. it may be the custom on board ship to holla 'stop' to ladies when they address you, or express a wish to leave the deck." "my dearest madam, i do assure you, upon my honour, that you are under a mistake. i ordered mr forster to stop, not you." "mr forster!" replied the lady; "why, he was standing still the whole time!" it was not until the whole system of taking sights for chronometers had been satisfactorily explained, that the lady recovered her good-humour. while the captain was thus employed with mrs ferguson, newton, although it was not necessary, explained the mystery to miss revel, who, with mrs ferguson, soon after quitted the deck. the sights taken proved the ship to be to the eastward of her reckoning. the other ships in company had made the same discovery, and the course was altered one quarter of a point. in two days they dropped their anchor in funchal roads. but i must for a little while recross the bay of biscay, and, with my reader, look into the chambers of mr john forster. chapter xxxiii "look upon this child--i saved her, must not leave her life to chance; but point me out some nook of safety, where she less may shrink and grieve. this child, who parentless, is therefore mine." byron. a few minutes after newton had quitted the chambers of his uncle, the clerk made his appearance, announcing to mr john forster that a gentleman requested to speak to him. "i asked the gentleman's name, sir," observed the clerk, shutting to the door, "but he did not choose to give it. he has a little girl with him." "very well, scratton, the little girl cannot concern me," replied the old lawyer; "ask him to walk in;"--and he again conned over the brief, not choosing to lose the minute which might elapse before he was again to be interrupted. the door was reopened, and edward forster, with amber holding him by the hand, entered the room. "your servant, sir. scratton, a chair--two chairs, scratton. i beg your pardon, young lady." when the clerk had retired, mr john forster commenced as usual.--"now, sir, may i request the favour of asking your business with me?" "you do not recollect me; nor am i surprised at it, as it is fifteen years since we last met. time and suffering, which have worn me to a skeleton, have also worn out the remembrance of a brother. i am edward forster." "edward forster!--humph! well, i did not recollect you; but i'm very glad to see you, brother. very strange--never have heard of one of my family for years, and now they all turn up at once! no sooner get rid of one, than up starts another. nicholas came from the lord knows where, the other day." edward forster, who was better acquainted with his brother's character than newton, took no notice of the abruptness of his remarks, but replied: "nicholas! is he, then, alive? i shall be delighted to see him." "humph!" replied john, "i was delighted to get rid of him. take care of your watch or spectacles when you meet him." "indeed, brother! i trust he is not such a character." "but he is a character, i can tell you; not what you suppose--he's honest enough. let me see--if my memory serves me, brother edward, we last met when you were passing through london on your way to ----, having been invalided, and having obtained a pension of forty pounds per annum for a severe wound received in action. and pray, brother, where have you been ever since?" "at the same spot, from which i probably never should have been induced to remove, had it not been for the sake of this little girl who is now with me." "and pray who may be that little girl? is she your daughter?" "only by adoption." "humph, brother! for a half-pay lieutenant, that appears rather an expensive whim!--bad enough to maintain children of our own begetting." "you say true," replied edward; "but if in this instance i have incurred an expense and responsibility, it must be considered to be more my misfortune than my fault." edward forster then entered into the particulars connected with amber's rescue. "you must acknowledge, brother john," observed edward, as he closed his narrative, "that i could not well have acted otherwise; you would not yourself." "humph! i don't know that; but this i do know, that you had better have stayed at home!" "perhaps so, considering the forlorn prospects of the child; but we must not judge. the same providence which willed that she should be so miraculously saved also willed that i should be her protector;--why otherwise did the dog lay her at my feet?" "because it had been taught to 'fetch and carry,' i suppose: but however, brother edward, i have no right to question your conduct. if the girl is as good as she is pretty, why all the better for her; but, as i am rather busy, let me ask if you have any more to say to me?" "i have, john; and the discourse we have had is preliminary. i am here with a child, forced upon me i may say, but still as dear to me as if she were mine own. you must be aware that i have nothing but my pension and half-pay to subsist upon. i can save nothing. my health is undermined and my life precarious. last winter i never expected to quit my bed again; and, as i lay in it, the thought naturally occurred of the forlorn and helpless state in which this poor little girl would be in case of my decease. in a lonely cottage, without money--without family or friends to apply to--without anyone near her being made acquainted with her unfortunate history, what would have become of her? it was this reflection which determined me, if my life was spared, as soon as my health would permit, to come to you, the only relative i was certain of still having in the world, that i might acquaint you with her existence, and, with her history, confide to you the few articles of dress which she wore when rescued, and which may eventually lead to her recognition--a case of extreme doubt and difficulty, i grant; but the ways of providence are mysterious, and her return to the arms of her friends will not be more wonderful than her preservation on that dreadful night. brother! i never have applied to you in my own behalf, although conscious how ample are your means--and i never will; but i do now plead in favour of this dear child. worn out as i am, my pilgrimage on earth can be but short; and if you would smooth the pillow of a dying brother, promise him now that you will extend your bounty to this poor orphan, when i'm no more!" edward forster's voice was tremulous at the close of his appeal, and his brother appeared to be affected. there was a silence of a minute, when the customary "humph!" was ejaculated, and john forster then continued: "a very foolish business, brother--very foolish, indeed. when nicholas and his son came here the other day and applied to me--why it was all very well--there was relationship; but really, to put another man's child upon me!" "not while it pleases heaven to spare _my_ life, brother." "'may you live a thousand years!' then, as the spanish say; but, however, brother edward, as you say, the poor thing must not starve; so, if i am to take care of a child of another man's begetting, as soon as you are dead, i can only say, it will very much increase my sorrow at your loss. come here, little one: what's your name?" "amber, sir." "amber! who the devil gave you that fool's name?" "i did, brother," replied edward; "i thought it appropriate." "humph! really can't see why. why did you not call her sukey, or some name fit for a christian? amber! amber's a gum, is it not? stop, let's see what johnson says." the lawyer went to a case of books which were in the next room, and returned with a quarto. "now," said he, seating himself; "ag--al--am--ambassador--ambassadress-- amber!--humph! here it is, 'a yellow, transparent substance of a gummous or bituminous consistence, but of a resinous taste, and a smell like oil of turpentine; chiefly found in the baltic sea or the coast of prussia.' humph! 'some have imagined it to consist of the tears of birds; others the'--humph!--'of a beast; others the scum of the lake cephesis, near the atlantic; others a congelation in some fountains, where it is found swimming like pitch.' really, brother," continued the lawyer, fixing his eyes on the little girl, and shutting the book, "i can't see the analogy." "be her godfather, my dear brother, and call her any name you please." "humph!" "pray, papa," said amber, turning to edward forster, "what's the meaning of 'humph'?" "humph!" repeated the lawyer, looking hard at amber. "it implies yes or no, as it may be," replied edward forster, smiling. "i never heard anyone say it before, papa. you're not angry with me, sir?" continued amber, turning round to john forster. "no, not angry, little girl; but i'm too busy to talk to you--or indeed with you, brother edward. have you anything more to say?" "nothing, my dear brother, if i have your promise." "well, you have it; but what am i to do with her, god only knows! i wish you had kept better hours. you mentioned some clothes which might identify her to her relations; pray let me have them; for i shall have the greatest pleasure in restoring her to them, as soon as possible, after she is once in my hands." "here they are, brother," replied edward, taking a small packet from his coat-pocket; "you had better take charge of them now; and may god bless you for having relieved my mind from so heavy a load!" "humph! by taking it on my own shoulders," muttered john, as he walked to the iron safe, to deposit the packet of linen; then returning to the table, "have you anything more to say, brother?" "only to ask you where i may find my brother nicholas?" "that i can't tell; my nephew told me somewhere down the river; but it's a long way from here to the nore. nephew's a fine lad; i sent him off to the east indies." "i am sorry then that i have no chance of seeing him:--but you are busy, brother?" "i have told you so three times, as plain as i could speak!" "i will no longer trespass on your time. we return home to-morrow morning; and, as i cannot expect ever to see you again, god bless you, my dear john! and farewell, i am afraid i may say, in this world at least, farewell for ever!" edward held out his hand to his brother. it was taken with considerable emotion. "farewell, brother, farewell!--i'll not forget." "good-bye, sir," said amber, going close up to john forster. "good-bye, my little girl," replied he, looking earnestly in her face; and then, as if thawing towards her, as he scanned her beautiful and expressive features, removing his spectacles and kissing her, "good-bye." "oh! papa," cried amber, as she went out of the room, "he kissed me!" "humph!" said john forster, as the door closed upon them. the spectacles were put on, and the reading of the brief immediately continued. chapter xxxiv "strickland.--these doings in my house distract me. i met a fine gentleman; when i inquired who he was--why, he came to clarinda. i met a footman too, and he came to clarinda. my wife had the character of a virtuous woman----." "suspicious husband." "let us no more contend each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive in offices of love, how we may lighten each other's burden in our share of woe." milton. i do not know a spot on the globe which astonishes and delights, upon your first landing, as the island of madeira. the voyager embarks, and is in all probability confined to his cabin, suffering under the dreadful protraction of sea-sickness. perhaps he has left england in the gloomy close of the autumn, or the frigid concentration of an english winter. in a week, or even in a shorter period, he again views that _terra firma_ which he had quitted with regret, and which in his sufferings he would have given half that he possessed to regain. when he lands upon the island, what a change! winter has become summer, the naked trees which he left are exchanged for the most luxuriant and varied foliage, snow and frost for warmth and splendour; the scenery of the temperate zone for the profusion and magnificence of the tropics; fruit which he had never before seen, supplies for the table unknown to him; a bright sky, a glowing sun, hills covered with vines, a deep-blue sea, a picturesque and novel costume; all meet and delight the eye, just at the precise moment when to have been landed, even upon a barren island, would have been considered as a luxury. add to all this, the unbounded hospitality of the english residents, a sojourn too short to permit satiety; and then is it to be wondered that the island of madeira is a "green spot" in the memory of all those who land there, or that they quit it with regret? the _bombay castle_ had not been two hours at anchor before the passengers had availed themselves of an invitation from one of the english residents, and were quartered in a splendid house, which looked upon a square and one of the principal churches in the city of funchal. while the gentlemen amused themselves, at the extensive range of windows, with the novelty of the scene, and the ladies retired to their apartments to complete the hasty toilet of their disembarkation, captain drawlock was very busy in the counting-house below, with the master of the house. there were so many pipes of madeira for the honourable company; so many for the directors' private cellars, besides many other commissions for friends, which captain drawlock had undertaken to execute; for at that period madeira wine had not been so calumniated as it latterly has been. a word upon this subject. i am a mortal enemy to every description of humbug; and i believe there is as much in the medical world as in any other. madeira wine had for a century been in high and deserved reputation, when on a sudden some fashionable physician discovers that it contained more acid than sherry. whether he was a sleeping partner in some spanish house, or whether he had received a present of a few pipes of sherry that he might turn the scale of public favour towards that wine, i know not; but certain it is, that it became fashionable with all medical gentlemen to prescribe sherry; and when once anything becomes fashionable, _c'est une affaire decidée_. i do not pretend to be much of a pathologist; but on reading mr f----'s analysis on the component parts of wine, i observed that in one hundred parts there are perhaps twenty-two parts of acid in madeira, and nineteen in sherry; so that, in fact, if you reduce your glass of madeira wine just one sip in quantity, you will imbibe no more acid than in a full glass of sherry; and when we consider the variety of acids in sugar and other compounds, which abound in culinary preparations, the fractional quantity upon which has been grounded the abuse of madeira wine appears to be most ridiculous. but if not a pathologist, i have a most decided knowledge of what is good wine; and if the gout should some day honour me with a visit, i shall at least have the consolation to know that i have by potation most honestly earned it. but allowing that the medical gentlemen are correct, still their good intentions are frustrated by the knavery of the world; and the result of their prescriptions is that people drink much more acid than they did before. i do every justice to good old sherry when it does make its appearance at table; it is a noble wine when aged and unsophisticated from its youth; but for once that you meet with it genuine, you are twenty times disappointed. when madeira wine was in vogue, the island could not produce the quantity required for consumption, and the vintage from the north side of the island, or of teneriffe, was substituted. this adulteration no doubt was one cause of its losing its well-established reputation. but madeira wine has a quality which in itself proves its superiority over all other wines--namely, that although no other wine can be passed off as madeira, yet with madeira the wine-merchants may imitate any other wine that is in demand. what is the consequence? that madeira, not being any longer in request as madeira now that sherry is the "correct thing," and there not being sufficient of the latter to meet the increased demand, most of the wine vended as sherry is made from the inferior madeira wines. reader, if you have ever been in spain, you may have seen the xerez or sherry wine brought from the mountains to be put into the cask. a raw goat-skin, with the neck-part and the four legs sewed up, forms a leathern bag, containing perhaps from fifteen to twenty gallons. this is the load of one man, who brings it down on his shoulder exposed to the burning rays of the sun. when it arrives, it is thrown down on the sand, to swelter in the heat with the rest, and remains there probably for days before it is transferred into the cask. it is this proceeding which gives to sherry that peculiar leather twang which distinguishes it from other wines--a twang easy to imitate by throwing into a cask of cape wine a pair of old boots, and allowing them to remain a proper time. although the public refuse to drink madeira as madeira, they are in fact drinking it in every way disguised--as port, as sherry, &c.; and it is a well-known fact that the poorer wines from the north side of the island are landed in the london docks, and shipped off to the continent, from whence they reappear in bottles as "peculiarly fine flavoured hock!" now, as it is only the indifferent wines which are thus turned into sherry,--and the more inferior the wine, the more acid it contains,--i think i have made out a clear case that people are drinking more acid than they did before this wonderful discovery of the medical gentlemen, who have for some years led the public by the nose. there are, however, some elderly persons of my acquaintance who are not to be dissuaded from drinking madeira, but who continue to destroy themselves by the use of this acid, which perfumes the room when the cork is extracted. i did represent to one of them that it was a species of suicide, after what the doctors had discovered; but he replied, in a very gruff tone of voice, "may be, sir; but you can't teach an old dog new tricks!" i consider that the public ought to feel very much indebted to me for this _exposé_. madeira wine is very low, while sherry is high in price. they have only to purchase a cask of madeira and flavour it with wellington boots or ladies' slippers, as it may suit their palates. the former will produce the high-coloured, the latter the pale sherry. further, i consider that the merchants of madeira are bound to send me a letter of thanks, with a pipe of bual to prove its sincerity. now i recollect stoddart did promise me some wine when he was last in england; but i suppose he has forgotten it. but from the produce i must return to the island and my passengers. the first day of their arrival they ate their dinner, took their coffee, and returned to bed early to enjoy a comfortable night after so many of constant pitching and tossing. the next morning the ladies were much better, and received the visits of all the captains of the india ships, and also of the captain of the frigate who escorted them. the officers of the _bombay castle_ had been invited to dinner; and the first mate not being inclined to leave the ship, newton had for one accepted the invitation. on his arrival, he discovered in the captain of the frigate his former acquaintance, captain carrington, in whose ship he had obtained a passage from the west indies, and who, on the former being paid off, had been appointed to the command of the _boadicea_. captain carrington was delighted to meet newton; and the attention which he paid to him, added to the encomiums bestowed when newton was out of hearing, raised him very high in the opinion, not only of captain drawlock, but also in the estimation of the ladies. at the request of captain carrington, newton was allowed to remain on shore till their departure from the island; and from this circumstance he became more intimate with the ladies than he would in all probability have otherwise been in the whole course of the voyage. we must pass over the gallop up to nostra senhora da monte,--an expedition opposed by captain drawlock on the score of his responsibility; but he was overruled by captain carrington, who declared that newton and he were quite sufficient convoy. we must pass over the many compliments paid to isabel revel by captain carrington, who appeared desperately in love after an acquaintance of four-and-twenty hours, and who discovered a defect in the _boadicea_ which would occupy two or three days to make good, that he might be longer in her company; but we will not pass over one circumstance which occurred during their week's sojourn at this delightful island. a certain portuguese lady of noble birth had been left a widow with two daughters, and a fine estate to share between them. the daughters were handsome; but the estate was so much handsomer that it set all the mandolins of the portuguese inamoratos strumming under the windows of the lady's abode from sunset to the dawn of day. now, it did so occur, that a young english clerk in a mercantile house, who had a fresh complexion and a clean shirt to boast of (qualifications unknown to the portuguese), won the heart of the eldest daughter; and the old lady, who was not a very strict catholic, gave her consent to this heretical union. the catholic priests, who had long been trying to persuade the old lady to shut up her daughters in a convent, and endow the church with her property, expressed a holy indignation at the intended marriage. the portuguese gentlemen, who could not brook the idea of so many fair hills of vines going away to a stranger, were equally indignant: in short, the whole portuguese population of the island were in arms; but the old lady, who had always contrived to have her way before her husband's death, was not inclined to be thwarted now that she was her own mistress; and, notwithstanding threats and expostulations from all quarters, she awaited but the arrival of an english man-of-war that the ceremony might be performed, there being at that time no protestant clergyman on the island; for the reader must know that a marriage on board of a king's ship, by the captain, duly entered in the log-book, is considered as valid as if the ceremony were performed by the archbishop of canterbury. i once married a couple on board of a little ten-gun brig of which i condescended to take the command, to oblige the first lord of the admiralty; offered, i believe, to _provide_ for me, and rid the board of all future solicitations for employment or promotion. it was one of my sailors, who had come to a determination to make an honest woman of poll and an ass of himself at one and the same time. the ceremony took place on the quarter-deck. "who gives this woman away?" said i, with due emphasis, according to the ritual. "i do," cried the boatswain, in a gruff voice, taking the said lady by the arm and shoving her towards me, as if he thought her not worth keeping. everything went on seriously, nevertheless. the happy pair were kneeling down on the union-jack, which had been folded on the deck in consideration of the lady's knees, and i was in the middle of the blessing, when two pigs, which we had procured at st jago's, being then off that island (creatures more like english pigs on stilts than anything else, unless you could imagine a cross between a pig and a greyhound), in the lightness of their hearts and happy ignorance of their doom, took a frisk, as you often see pigs do on shore, commenced a run from forward right aft, and galloping to the spot where we were all collected, rushed against the two just made one, destroying their centre of gravity, and upsetting them; and, indeed, destroying the gravity and upsetting the seriousness of myself and the whole of the ship's company. the lady recovered her legs, d--d the pigs, and, taking her husband's arm, hastened down the hatchway; so that i lost the kiss to which i was entitled for my services. i consoled myself by the reflection that, "please the pigs," i might be more fortunate the next time that i officiated in my clerical capacity. this is a digression, i grant, but i cannot help it; it is the nature of man to digress. who can say that he has through life kept in the straight path? this is a world of digression; and i beg that critics will take no notice of mine, as i have an idea that my digressions in this work are as agreeable to my readers, as my digressions in life have been agreeable to myself. when captain carrington anchored with his convoy in funchal roads, immediate application was made by the parties for the ceremony to be performed on board of his ship. it is true that, as mr ferguson had arrived, it might have taken place on shore; but it was considered advisable, to avoid interruption and insult, that the parties should be under the sanctuary of a british man-of-war. on the fourth day after the _boadicea's_ arrival, the ceremony was performed on board of her by mr ferguson; and the passengers of the _bombay_, residing at the house of mr-----, who was an intimate friend of the bridegroom, received and accepted the invitation to the marriage-dinner. the feast was splendid, and after the portuguese custom. the first course was _boiled_: it consisted of boiled beef, boiled mutton, boiled hams, boiled tongues, boiled bacon, boiled fowls, boiled turkeys, boiled sausages, boiled cabbages, boiled potatoes, and boiled carrots. duplicates of each were ranged in opposition, until the table groaned with its superincumbent weight. all were cut up, placed in one dish, and handed round to the guests. when they drank wine, every glass was filled, and everybody who filled his glass was expected to drink the health of every guest separately and by name before he emptied it. the first course was removed, and the second made its appearance, all roasted. roast beef, roast veal, roast mutton, roast lamb, roast joints of pork, roasted turkeys, roasted fowls, roasted sausages, roasted everything; the centre dish being a side of a large hog, rolled up like an enormous fillet of veal. this, too, was done ample justice to by the portuguese part of the company, at least; and all was cleared away for the dessert, consisting of oranges, melons, pine-apples, guavas, citrons, bananas, peaches, strawberries, apples, pears, and, indeed, of almost every fruit which can be found in the whole world; all of which appear to naturalise themselves at madeira. it was now supposed by the uninitiated that the dinner was over; but not so: the dessert was cleared away, and on came an _husteron proteron_ medley of pies and puddings, in all their varieties, smoking hot, boiled and baked; custards and sweetmeats, cheese and olives, fruits of all kinds preserved, and a hundred other things, from which the gods preserve us! at last the feast was really over--the portuguese picked their teeth with their forks, and the wine was circulated briskly. on such an occasion as the marriage of her daughter, the old lady had resolved to tap a pipe of madeira, which was, at the very least, fifty years old, very fine in flavour, but, from having been so long in the wood, little inferior in strength to genuine cognac. the consequence was that many of the gentlemen became noisy before the dinner was over; and their mirth was increased to positive uproar upon a message being sent by the bishop, ordering, upon pain of excommunication, that the ceremony should proceed no further. the ladies retired to the withdrawing-room: the gentlemen soon followed; but the effects of the wine were so apparent upon most of them that captain drawlock summoned newton to his assistance, and was in a state of extreme anxiety until his "responsibilities" were safe at home. shortly afterwards, captain carrington and those who were the least affected, by persuasion and force, removed the others from the house; and the bridal party were left to themselves, to deliberate whether they should or should not obey the preposterous demands of the reverend bishop. captain carrington was excessively fond of a joke, and never lost the opportunity when it occurred: now, it happened that in the party invited there was a merchant of the name of sullivan, who, upon his last visit to england, had returned with a very pretty, and at the same time, a very coquettish young lady as his wife. it happened, in the casualties of a large dinner party, that the old colonel (ellice was his name, if i have not mentioned it before) was seated next to her, and, as usual, was remarkably attentive. mr sullivan, like many other gentlemen, was very inattentive to his wife, and, unlike most irishmen, was very jealous of her. the very marked attention of the colonel had not escaped his notice; neither did his fidgeting upon this occasion escape the notice of those about him, who were aware of his disposition. the poor colonel was one of those upon whose brain the wine had taken the most effect; and it was not until after sundry falls, and being again placed upon his legs, that he had been conveyed home between captain carrington and mr----, the merchant at whose house the party from the _bombay castle_ were residing. the ensuing morning he did not make his appearance at breakfast; and the gentlemen residing on the island, commenting upon the events of the evening before, declared in a joking way that they should not be surprised at mr sullivan sending him a challenge in the course of the morning; that was, if he was up so soon, as he had quitted the house in a greater state of inebriety than even the colonel. it was upon this hint that captain carrington proposed to have some amusement; and having arranged it with one of the junior partners of the house, he went into the room of the colonel, whom he found still in bed. "well, colonel, how do you find yourself?" said captain carrington, when he had roused him. "oh! very bad, indeed: my head is ready to split; never felt such a sensation in my head before, except when i was struck with a spent ball at the battle of--" "i am very sorry for your headache, colonel: but more sorry that the wine should have played you such a trick last night." "trick, indeed!" replied the colonel; "i was completely overcome. i do not recollect a word that passed after i quitted the dinner-table." "are you serious? do you not recollect the scene with mrs sullivan?" "mrs sullivan! my dear sir, what scene? i certainly paid every attention due to a very pretty woman; but i recollect no further." "not the scene in the drawing-room?" "god bless me!--no--i do not even recollect ever going into the drawing-room! pray tell me what i said or did: i hope nothing improper." "why, that depends very much whether the lady likes it or not; but in the presence of so many people--" "merciful powers! captain carrington, pray let me know at once what folly it was that i committed." "why, really, i am almost ashamed to enter into particulars: suffice to say, that you used most unwarrantable freedom towards her." "is it possible?" cried the colonel. "now, captain carrington, are you not joking?" "ask this gentleman; he was present." the assertion of the captain was immediately corroborated, and the colonel was quite aghast. "excuse me, gentlemen, i will run immediately--that abominable wine. i must go and make a most ample apology. i am bound to do it, as a gentleman, as an officer, and as a man of honour." captain carrington and his confederate quitted the room, satisfied with the success of their plot. the colonel rose, and soon afterwards made his appearance. he swallowed a cup of coffee, and then proceeded on his visit, to make the _amende honorable_. when mr sullivan awoke from the lethargy produced from the stupefying effects of the wine, he tried to recollect the circumstances of the preceding evening; but he could trace no further than to the end of the dinner, after which his senses had been overpowered. all that he could call to memory was, that somebody had paid great attention to his wife, and that what had passed afterwards was unknown. this occasioned him to rise in a very jealous humour; and he had not been up more than an hour, when the colonel sent up his card, requesting, as a particular favour, that the lady would admit him. the card and message were taken by the servant to mr sullivan, whose jealousy was again roused by the circumstance; and wishing to know if the person who had now called was the same who had been so attentive to his wife on the preceding evening, and the motives of the call, he requested that the colonel might be shown in, without acquainting his wife, whom he had not yet seen, with his arrival. the colonel, who intended to have made an apology to the lady without the presence of a third person, least of all of her husband, ascended the stairs, adjusting his hair and cravat, and prepared with all the penitent assurance and complimentary excuses of a too ardent lover. the fact was, that, although the colonel had expressed to captain carrington his regret and distress at the circumstance, yet, as an old adonis, he was rather proud of this instance of juvenile indiscretion. when, therefore, he entered the room, and perceived, instead of the lady, mr sullivan, raised up to his utmost height, and looking anything but good-humoured, he naturally started back, and stammered out something which was unintelligible. his behaviour did not allay the suspicions of mr sullivan, who requested, in a haughty tone, to be informed of the reason why he had been honoured with a visit. the colonel became more confused, and totally losing his presence of mind, replied:-- "i called, sir,--on mrs sullivan,--to offer an apology for my conduct last night; but as i perceive that she is not visible, i will take a more favourable opportunity." "any apology you may have to offer to my wife, sir," replied mr sullivan, "may be confided to me. may i inquire the circumstances which have occurred to render an apology necessary?" and mr sullivan walked to the door and closed it. "why, really, mr sullivan, you must be aware that circumstances may occur," replied the colonel, more confused: "the fact is, that i consider it my duty, as a gentleman and a man of honour, to express my regrets to your fair lady." "my fair lady! for what, sir, may i ask?" "why, sir," stammered the colonel, "to state the truth, for, as a gentleman and a man of honour, i ought not to be ashamed to acknowledge my error--for--the very improper behaviour which i was guilty of last night." "improper behaviour, sir!--d--nation! with my wife?" roared mr sullivan, in his rage. "what behaviour, sir? and when, sir?" "really, sir, i was too much affected with the wine to know anything which passed. i did hope to have addressed the lady in person on the subject, and i came here with that intention." "i daresay you did, sir." "but," continued the colonel, "as it appears i am not to have that honour, i consider that i have done my duty in requesting that you will convey my sentiments of regret for what has passed;--and now, sir, i wish you a good morning." "good morning," retorted the husband, with a sneer, "and observe, sir, i will not trouble you to call again. william, show this gentleman outside the door." the colonel, who was descending the stairs, turned round to mr sullivan at the latter part of his speech, and then, as if thinking better of it, he resumed his descent, and the door was immediately closed upon him. mr sullivan, as soon as he was satisfied that the colonel was shut out, immediately repaired to his wife's dressing-room, where he found her reading. "madam," said he, fixing his eyes sternly on her, "i have been informed of what took place last night." "i'm sure i do not know what that was," replied the lady, coolly, "except that you were very tipsy." "granted, madam; you took advantage of it; and your conduct--" "my conduct, mr sullivan!" replied his wife, kindling with anger. "yes, mrs sullivan, your conduct. a married woman, madam, who allows gentlemen--" "gentlemen, mr sullivan! i allow no gentleman but yourself. are you sure that you are quite sober?" "yes, madam, i am; but this affected coolness will not avail you: deny, if you can, that colonel ellice did not last night--" "well, then, i do deny it. neither colonel ellice nor any other man ever did--" "did what, madam?" interrupted the husband in a rage. "i was going to observe, if you had not interrupted me, that no one was wanting in proper respect towards me," replied the lady, who grew more cool as her husband increased in choler. "pray, mr sullivan, may i inquire who is the author of this slander?" "the author, madam! look at me--to your confusion look at me!" "well, i'm looking." "'twas, madam--the colonel himself." "the colonel himself!" "yes, madam, the colonel himself, who called this morning to see you and renew the intimacy, i presume; but by mistake was shown up to me, and then made an apology for his conduct." "it's excessively strange! first the colonel is rude, without my knowledge, and then apologises to you! mr sullivan, i'm afraid that your head is not right this morning." "indeed, madam, i only wish that your heart was as sound," replied the husband, with a sneer; "but, madam, i am not quite blind. an honest woman--a virtuous woman, mrs sullivan, would have immediately acquainted her husband with what had passed--not have concealed it; still less have had the effrontery to deny it, when acknowledged by her _paramour_." "_paramour_!" cried the lady, with an hysterical laugh; "mr sullivan, when i select a _paramour_, it shall be a handsome young man--not an old, yellow-faced--" "pshaw, madam! there's no accounting for taste; when a woman deviates from the right path--" "right path! if ever i deviated from the right path, as you call it, it was when i married such a wretch as you! yes, sir," continued the lady, bursting into tears, "i tell it you now--my life has been a torment to me ever since i married (sobbing)--always suspected for nothing (sob, sob)--jealous, detestable temper (sob)--go to my friends (sob)--hereafter may repent (sob)--then know what you've lost" (sob, sob, sob). "and, madam," replied mr sullivan, "so may you also know what you have lost, before a few hours have passed away; then, madam, the time may come when the veil of folly will be rent from your eyes, and your conduct appear in all its deformity. farewell, madam--perhaps for ever!" the lady made no reply; mr sullivan quitted the room, and, repairing to his counting-house, wrote a challenge to the colonel and confided the delivery of it to one of his friends, who unwillingly accepted the office of second. chapter xxxv "he's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer the worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs his outsides: to wear them, like his raiment, carelessly, and ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, to bring it into danger." shakespeare. the colonel, in the meantime, had returned to the house where he was residing, when he was immediately accosted by captain carrington and the other gentlemen who had been let into the secret of the plot. during his walk home the colonel had been ruminating on his dismissal, and had not quite made up his mind whether he ought or ought not to resent the conduct of mr sullivan. naturally more inclined for peace than war, by the time that he had arrived home he had resolved to pocket the affront, when captain carrington called him on one side, and obtained from him a recapitulation of what had passed; which probably never would have been given if the colonel had not considered the communication as confidential. this, however, did not suit the intentions of captain carrington, who felt inclined for more mischief; and, when the colonel had concluded his narrative, he replied, "upon my word, colonel, as you observe, this conduct on the part of mr sullivan is not exactly what can be permitted by us military men. i hardly know how to advise; indeed, i would not take the responsibility; however, i will consult with mr s---- and mr g----, and if you will leave your honour in our hands, depend upon it we will do you strict justice:" and captain carrington quitted the colonel, who would have expostulated, and, walking up to the other gentlemen, entered into a recapitulation of the circumstances. a wink of his eye, as his back was turned to the colonel, fully expressed to the others the tenor of the advice which they were to offer. "well, gentlemen, what is your opinion?" said the captain, as he concluded his narrative. "i think," replied mr s----, with a serious face, "there can be but one--our gallant friend has been most grossly insulted. i think," continued he, addressing the colonel, who had quitted the sofa, in his anxiety to know the issue of their debate, "that i should most decidedly ask him what he meant." "or rather demand an apology," observed mr g----. "which mr sullivan, as a man of honour, is bound to offer, and the colonel, as a gentleman and an officer, has a right to insist upon. do you not think so, captain carrington?" said mr s----. "why, i always have been more inclined to be a peacemaker than otherwise, if i can," replied captain carrington. "if our gallant friend the colonel is not sure that mr sullivan did use the words, 'i won't trouble you to call again,'--are you positive as to the exact words, colonel?" "why, to the best of my recollection," replied the colonel, "i rather think those were the words. i may be mistaken:--it was certainly--most certainly, something to that effect." "were they 'requesting you to call again?'" said captain carrington. "no, no, that they were certainly not." "well, they could be but one or the other. then, gentlemen, the case is clear--the words were uttered," said mr s----. "now captain carrington, what would you advise?" "i really am vexed to say that i do not see how our friend, colonel ellice, can do otherwise than demand an apology, or a meeting." "could not i treat him with contempt, captain carrington?" demanded the colonel. "why, not exactly," replied mr s----. "sullivan is of good family--the sullivans of bally cum poop. he was some time in the th regiment, and was obliged to retire from it for challenging his colonel." "well, gentlemen," replied the colonel, "i suppose i must leave my honour in your hands, although it does appear to me that our time is very short for such arrangements. we sail early to-morrow morning, captain carrington; at daylight i think you said, and it will be too late to-night." "my dear colonel, i will risk a rebuke from the admiralty," replied the captain, "rather than not allow you to heal your wounded honour. i will stay till the day after tomorrow, should it be requisite for the arrangement of this business." "thank you, many thanks," replied the colonel, with an expression of disappointment. "then i had better prepare the letter?" "carta por senhor commandante," interrupted a portuguese, presenting a letter to the colonel; "o senhor embaixo; queir risposta." the colonel opened the letter, which contained mr sullivan's challenge,--pistols--tomorrow morn, at daylight--one mile on the road to machico. the colonel's countenance changed two or three shades less yellow as he read the contents: recovering himself with a giggle, he handed the letter to captain carrington. "you see, captain, the gentleman has saved me the trouble--he, he, he! these little affairs are common to gentlemen of our profession--he, he! and, since the gentleman wishes it, why, i presume--he, he! that we must not disappoint him." "since you are both of one mind, i think there will be some business done," observed mr s----. "i perceive that he is in earnest by the place named for the meeting. we generally settle our affairs of honour in the loo-fields; but i suppose he is afraid of interruption.--they want an answer, colonel." "oh! he shall have one," replied the colonel, tittering with excitement; "he shall have one. what hour does he say?" "oh, we will arrange all that. come, colonel," said captain carrington, taking him familiarly by the arm, and leading him away. the answer was despatched, and they sat down to dinner. many were the friendly and encouraging glasses of wine drank with the colonel, who recovered his confidence, and was then most assiduous in his attentions to the ladies, to prove his perfect indifference. he retired at an early hour, nevertheless. in the meantime mr sullivan had received the answer, and had retired to his counting-house, to arrange his affairs in case of accident. he had not seen his wife since the _fracas_. and now we will leave them both for a while, and make a few remarks upon duelling. most people lament, many abuse, the custom as barbarous; but barbarous it is not, or it would not be necessary in a state of high civilisation. it is true, that by the practice we offend laws human and divine; but, at the same time, it must be acknowledged, that neither law nor religion can keep society in such good order, or so restrain crime. the man who would defy the penalty of the law, and the commandments of his god against seduction will, however, pause in his career, when he finds that there are brothers to avenge an injured sister. and why so?--because in this world we live as if we were in a tavern, careless of what the bill is which we run up, but dreading the day of reckoning, which the pistol of our adversary may bring at once. thus duelling may be considered as a necessary evil, arising out of our wickedness; a crime in itself rare in occurrence, but which prevents others of equal magnitude from occurring every day; and, until the world is reformed, nothing can prevent it. men will ever be governed by the estimation of the world: and until the whole world decide against duelling--until it has become the usage to offer the other cheek upon the first having been smitten--then, and not till then, will the practice be discontinued. when a man refuses to fight a duel, he is stigmatised as a coward, his company is shunned, and unless he is a wretch without feeling, his life becomes a burden. men have refused from purely conscientious motives, and have subsequently found themselves so miserable, from the neglect and contumely of the world, that they have _backslided_, and have fought to recover their place in society. there have been some few--very few--who, having refused from conscientious motives, have adhered to these resolutions, because they feared god and not man. there was more courage in their refusal than if they had run the gauntlet of a hundred duels; a moral courage which is most rare,--preferring the contempt of man to the wrath of god. it is, however, the most trying situation on this side of the grave. to refuse to fight a duel, is in fact to obey the stern injunction, "leave all, and follow me." for my part, i never have and never will fight a duel, if i can help it. i have a double motive for my refusal; in the first place, i am afraid to offend the deity; and in the next, i am afraid of being shot. i have, therefore, made up my mind never to meet a man except upon what i consider fair terms; for when a man stakes his life, the gambling becomes rather serious, and an equal value should be laid down by each party. if, then, a man is not so big--not of equal consequence in the consideration of his fellow-mites--not married, with five small children, as i am--not having so much to lose,--why, it is clear that i risk more than he does; the stake is not equal, and i therefore shall not meet him. if, on the contrary, he presents a broader target--if he is my superior in rank, more patriarchal at home, or has so many hundreds per annum more--why, then the disadvantages will be on his side; and i trust i am too much of a gentleman, even if he offers to waive all these considerations, to permit him to fight. it would be _swindling_ the man out of his life. the best advice i can offer to my friends under these unpleasant circumstances is, first to try if they cannot persuade their adversaries to make an apology: and if they will not, why, then, let them make one themselves; for although the making an apology creates a very uneasy sensation, and goes very much _against_ the stomach, yet, depend upon it, a well-directed bullet creates a much more uneasy feeling, and, what is worse, goes _directly into it_. we left mrs sullivan sobbing in her anger, when her husband bounded out of the room in his heroics. at the time that he made the threat she was in no humour to regard it; but as her anger gradually subsided, so did her alarm increase. notwithstanding that she was a coquette, she was as warmly attached to her husband as he was to her; if she trifled, it was only for her amusement, and to attract that meed of admiration to which she had been accustomed previous to her marriage, and which no woman can renounce on her first entry into that state. men cannot easily pardon jealousy in their wives; but women are more lenient towards their husbands. love, hand-in-hand with confidence, is the more endearing; yet, when confidence happens to be out of the way, love will sometimes associate with jealousy; still, as this disagreeable companion proves that love is present, and as his presence is what a woman and all a woman asks, she suffers jealousy, nay, sometimes even becomes partial to him, for the sake of love. now, that mrs sullivan had been most unjustly accused, the reader must know, and, moreover, that she had great reason to feel irritated. when her tears had subsided, for some time she continued in her chair, awaiting, with predetermined dignity, the appearance and apology of mr sullivan. after some time had elapsed, she wondered why he did not come. dinner was announced, and she certainly expected to meet him then, and she waited for some minutes to see if he would not take this opportunity of coming up to her;--but no. she then presumed that he was still in the sulks, and had sat down to table without her, and therefore, as he would not come--why, she went; but he was not at the table. every minute she expected him:--had he been told?--where was he?--he was in the counting-house, was the reply. mrs sullivan swallowed a few mouthfuls, and then returned upstairs. tea was made--announced to mr sullivan, yet he came not. it remained on the table; the cup poured out for him was cold. the urn had been sent down, with strict injunctions to keep the water boiling, and all was cleared away. mrs sullivan fidgeted and ruminated, and became uneasy. he never had been at variance for so many hours since their marriage, and all for nothing! at last the clock struck ten, and she rang the bell.--"where is mr sullivan?"--"in the counting-house."--"tell him that i wish to speak with him." mr sullivan had not answered him, and the door was locked inside. this intelligence created a little irritation, and checked the tide of affection. "before all the servants--so inconsiderate--it was quite insulting!" with a heavy heart, mrs sullivan lighted the chamber candle, and went upstairs to bed. once she turned down the stairs two or three steps, intending to go to the counting-house door; but her pride restrained her, and she reascended. in an hour mrs sullivan was in bed, expecting her husband every minute, listening at the slightest sound for his footsteps; but two o'clock came, and he was still away. she could bear up against her suspense and agitation no longer; she rose, threw on her _robe de nuit_, and descended the stairs. all the family had long retired, and everything was still: her light foot made no noise as she tripped along. as she neared the door she perceived the light gleaming through the key-hole. whether to peep or to speak first--he might be fast asleep. curiosity prevailed--she looked through the key-hole, and perceived her husband very busy writing. after he had finished his letter he threw down the pen, pressed his forehead with both hands, and groaned deeply. mrs sullivan could refrain no longer. "william! william!" cried she, in a soft, imploring voice: but she was not answered. again and again did she repeat his name, until an answer, evidently wrung from him by impatience, was returned--"it is too late now." "too late, dear william! yes, it is very late--it's almost three o'clock. let me in, william--pray do!" "leave me alone: it's the last favour i shall probably ever request of you." "the last favour! oh, william! you frighten me so:--dear william--do--do let me in. i'm so cold--i shall die:--only for one moment, and i'll bless you. pray do, william!" it was not until after repeated and repeated entreaties of this kind that mr sullivan, worn out by importunity, at last opened the door. "mary, i am very busy; i have opened the door to tell you so, and to request that you will not interrupt me. now oblige me by going to bed." but getting in was everything; and a young and pretty wife, in dishabille and in tears, imploring, entreating, conjuring, promising, coaxing, and fondling, is not quite so easy to be detached when once she has gained access. in less than half an hour mr sullivan was obliged to confess that her conduct had been the occasion of a meeting being agreed upon for that morning, and that he was arranging his affairs in case of a melancholy termination. "you now, mary, must see the consequences of your conduct. by your imprudence, your husband's life is risked, probably sacrificed; but this is no time to be at variance. i forgive you, mary--from my soul i do, as i hope for pardon myself." mrs sullivan burst into a paroxysm of tears; and it was some time before she could answer. "william," cried she, energetically, "as you well say, this is no time to be at variance, neither is it a time for falsehood. what i stated to you this morning was true;--if not, may i never hope for pardon! and may heaven never be opened to me! you have been deceived--grossly deceived; for what purpose, i know not: but so it is. do not, therefore, be rash. send for all who were present, and examine them; and if i have told you a falsehood, put me away from you, to the shame and seclusion i shall so well deserve." "it is too late, mary; i have challenged him, and he has accepted it. i fain would believe you; but he told me so himself." "then he told a lie! a base, cowardly lie! which sinks him beneath the notice of a gentleman. let me go with you and confront him. only let him dare to say it to my face; 'tis all i ask, william, that i may clear my fame with you. come to bed--nay, nay, don't refuse me," and poor mrs sullivan again burst into tears. we must leave the couple to pass the remaining hours in misery, which, however, reclaimed them both from faults. mrs sullivan never coquetted more; and her husband was, after this, never jealous but on trifles. the colonel was just as busy on his side in preparing for the chances of the morrow: these chances, however, were never tried; for captain carrington and his confederates had made their arrangements. mr sullivan was already dressed, his wife clinging to him in frantic despair, when a letter was left at his door, the purport of which was that colonel ellice had discovered that his companions had been joking with him, when they had asserted that during his state of inebriety he had offered any rudeness to mrs sullivan. as, therefore, no offence had been committed, colonel ellice took it for granted that mr suillivan would be satisfied with the explanation. mrs sullivan, who devoured the writing over her husband's shoulder, sank down on her knees in gratitude, and was raised to her husband's arms, who, as he embraced her, acknowledged his injustice. the same party who wrote this epistle also framed another in imitation of mr sullivan's handwriting, in which mr sullivan acquainted the colonel, that having been informed by a mutual friend that he had been in error relative to colonel ellice's behaviour of the night before, he begged to withdraw the challenge, and apologise for having suspected the colonel of incivility, &c. that having been informed that colonel ellice embarked at an early hour, he regretted that he would not be able to pay his respects to him, and assure him, &c. the receipt of this letter, just as the colonel had finished a cup of coffee, preparatory to starting, made him, as a single man, quite as happy as the married couple: he hastened to put the letter into the hands of captain carrington, little thinking that he was handing it over to the writer. "you observe, captain carrington, he won't come to the scratch. perhaps as well for him that he does not," said the colonel, chuckling in his glee. the breakfast was early; the colonel talked big, and explained the whole affair to the ladies, quite unconscious that everyone in the company knew that the hoax had been played upon him. before noon, everyone had re-embarked on board of their respective ships, and their lofty sails were expanded to a light and favouring breeze. chapter xxxvi "isabel.--anywhere to avoid matrimony: the thought of a husband is terrible to me. inis.--but if you might choose for yourself, i fancy matrimony would be no such frightful thing to you." "_the wonder._" the _boadicea_, with the indiamen, proceeded on to their destination, captain carrington taking every opportunity which light winds and smooth water afforded him of paying his respects to the ladies on board of the _bombay castle_, or of inviting them on board of the frigate. the fact was that he had fallen most desperately in love with isabel revel, and paid her the most marked attention; but, although a pleasant, light-hearted companion, and a young man of good family and prospects, isabel revel had not fallen in love with him: she liked his company, but nothing more. in a month the squadron had arrived at the island of st helena, to which captain carrington had been ordered to convoy them: his directions were then to cruise in a certain latitude, and ultimately to proceed on to the east indies, if he did not fall in with the vessels he expected. it was, therefore, but parting to meet again; but during the short time that they refitted and completed their water at st helena, captain carrington proposed, and was politely refused by isabel revel. impatient as a boy who has been denied his plaything, he ordered his stores immediately on board, and the next day quitted the island. it may appear strange that a young lady, obviously sent out on speculation, should have refused so advantageous an offer; for the speculation commences with the voyage. some ladies are selected at madeira. since the cape has been in our possession, several have been induced to stay in that colony; and very often ships arrive with only the refuse of their cargo for the intended market in the east. but isabel revel had consented to embark on the score of filial duty, not to obtain a husband, unless she liked the gentleman who proposed; and captain carrington did not happen to come up to her fanciful ideas of the person to be chosen for life. captain carrington did not impart the intelligence of his ill-success to anyone but newton, who was employed to carry his farewell message. his secret was faithfully kept by both. isabel revel was not one of those young ladies who would make use of such an unworthy advantage to heighten her consequence in the eyes of others. but there was another reason, not exactly known to isabel herself at the time, which prevented her from listening to the proposals of captain carrington. had she questioned her own heart, she would have discovered that she was prepossessed in favour of one who as unconsciously had become attached to her. he knew his own feelings, but had checked them in the bud, aware that he had nothing to offer but himself. this person was newton forster. his intimacy with captain carrington, the attention shown him by captain drawlock (who entrusted him to work the chronometers!!), his own excellent character and handsome person, had raised him to more importance than his situation as a junior officer would have warranted; and his behaviour was such as to have secured him the good-will of everyone on board of the ship. newton's unassuming, frank manner, added to a large stock of general information, occasioned his society to be courted, even by those who would otherwise have been inclined to keep at a distance one in his subordinate rank. when they arrived at st helena, the first mate, for a wonder, no longer made any difficulty of going on shore for an hour or two, if he knew that newton would be the commanding officer during his absence; nay, so high did he stand in the opinion of his captain, that not only was he permitted to take charge of the chronometers, but if called away for a time below, captain drawlock would hand over to newton's charge any one of the unmarried _responsibilities_ who might happen to be leaning on his arm. the india men being now left to protect themselves, the senior officer, commodore bottlecock, issued most elaborate memorandum, as to the order of sailing, exercise of the men at the great guns and small arms, and every other point which could tend to their security by due preparation. nevertheless, the ladies continued to appear on deck. mrs ferguson sate in her majesty; the young ladies tittered, and were reprimanded; the young gentlemen were facetious, and were rebuked; the old colonel talked of his adventure at madeira, and compared everything to the spent ball in the battle of----. dr plausible had become a most assiduous attendant upon miss tavistock, ever since he had satisfactorily ascertained that she had property of her own; everybody had become intimate: everyone was becoming tired, when the bearings and distance at noon placed them about two hundred miles from point de galle, the southernmost extremity of ceylon. the wind was fresh and fair, and they congratulated each other upon a speedy termination to their tedious voyage. dinner was announced by the old tune of "oh! the roast beef of old england;" and during a long voyage the announcement of dinner is a very great relief every way. as had been the invariable rule throughout the whole of the voyage, miss charlotte and miss laura revel were placed on the one side of captain drawlock, miss tavistock and isabel revel on the other. they were flanked on the other side by mrs and mr ferguson, who thus separated them from any undue collision with the gentlemen passengers or officers of the ship. the colonel was placed next to mrs ferguson, the young writer next to her husband: then the two cadets, supported by the doctor and purser, the remainder of the table being filled up with the officers of the ship, with the first mate at the foot. such was the order of captain drawlock's dinner-sailing; as strictly adhered to as the memorandum of commodore bottlecock: the only communication permitted with the young ladies under his charge (unless married men) being to "request the honour of drinking a glass of wine with them." all this may appear very absurd; but a little reflection will convince the reader to the contrary. there is a serious responsibility on a captain of an india man, who takes charge of perhaps a dozen young women, who are to be cooped up for months in the same ship with as many young men. love, powerful everywhere, has on the waters even more potent sway, hereditary, i presume, from his mother's nativity. idleness is the friend of love; and passengers have little or nothing to do to while away the tedium of a voyage. in another point, he has great advantage, from the limited number of the fair sex. in a ball or in general society, a man may see hundreds of women, admire many, yet fall in love with none. numbers increase the difficulty of choice, and he remains delighted, but not enslaved. but on board of a ship, the continued presence of one whom he admires by comparison out of the few--one who, perhaps, if on shore, would in a short time be eclipsed by another, but who here shines without competition--gives her an advantage which, assisted by idleness and opportunity, magnifies her attractions, and sharpens the arrow of all conquering love. captain drawlock perhaps knew this from experience; he knew also that the friends of one party, if not of both, might be displeased by any contract formed when under his surveillance, and that his character and the character of his ship (for ships nowadays have characters, and very much depend upon them for their well doing) might suffer in consequence. strict as he might therefore appear, he was only doing his duty. grace being requested from mr ferguson, he indulged the company with one quite as long as usual; rather too long, considering that the ship was very unsteady, and the ladies had to cling to the table for support. but mr ferguson was not a sailor, or he would have known that it is the custom to reduce the grace in proportion with the canvas. when the royals are set, we submit to a homily; under double-reefed topsails, a blessing; but under storm stay-sails, an ejaculation is considered as orthodox. "mrs ferguson, will you permit me to send you a little mulligatawny?" said captain drawlock: "if you prefer it, there is sheep's head broth at the other end of the table." "then i will take a little of the broth, if you please, captain drawlock." "mr mathews, mrs ferguson will take some broth. i am sorry, mrs ferguson, that our table is so ill supplied; but a long voyage and bad weather has been very fatal to our hen-coops." "indeed, captain drawlock, you need not apologise." nor was there any occasion, for the table was loaded. "perhaps miss laura revel will permit me to send her a slice of this mutton?" said the obsequious colonel. "no, i thank you; i have eaten nothing but mutton lately. i think i shall be a sheep myself soon," added the young lady, tittering. "that would be very much against your inclination, i should think, miss laura," observed mrs ferguson, tartly. "la! why so? how do you know, mrs ferguson?" "because a sheep never changes its name until after it is dead. i shrewdly suspect you would like to change yours before."--(this was a hard hit.) "as you have yours, mrs ferguson," quietly answered isabel, in support of her sister. "very fair on both sides," said the colonel, bowing to the ladies, who sat together. "pray, miss laura, don't talk of being a sheep, we are all ready to devour you as it is." "la! you don't say so?" replied the young lady, much pleased. "colonel ellice," interrupted captain drawlock, with a serious air, "several of the company will thank you to carve that joint, when you have finished paying your compliments. miss tavistock, the honour of a glass of wine. we have not had the pleasure of your company on deck to-day." "no, captain drawlock. i did intend to come, but my health is in such a delicate state, that by the advice of dr plausible i remained below." "miss tavistock, will you allow me to send you some mutton?" "if you please, colonel; a very small slice." "mr forster, what have you in that dish before you?" "a chicken, captain drawlock." "miss isabel revel, will you take some chicken?" "no, i thank you, captain drawlock," replied isabel. "did you say yes or no?" inquired newton, who had caught her eye. "i'll change my mind," said isabel, smiling. now, i know it for a fact, although i shall not give up my authority, that isabel revel never wanted any chicken until she perceived that newton was to help her. so, if love occasionally takes away the appetite, let us do him justice--he sometimes creates one. "miss tavistock, allow me to send you a little of this turkey," said dr plausible; "it is easy of digestion." "if you please, doctor," replied miss tavistock, cramming the last mouthful of mutton into her mouth, and sending away her plate to be changed. "will you not take a little ham with it, miss tavistock?" said captain drawlock. "if you please, sir." "the honour of a glass of wine, miss tavistock," said the colonel. "with pleasure, sir." "miss charlotte revel, you have really eaten nothing," said captain drawlock. "that proves you have not paid me the least attention," replied the young lady. "had you honoured me with a single glance during dinner, you could not but have observed that i have been dining very heartily." "i really am quite shocked, miss charlotte, and bow to your reproof. will you take a glass of wine with me, in reconciliation?" "i consider a glass of madeira a very poor bribe, sir." "well, then, miss charlotte, it shall be champagne," replied captain drawlock, in his gallantry. "steward, champagne." a fortunate hit for the company; as champagne was in general only produced upon what sailors call "clean shirt days,"--viz., sundays and thursdays. "we are highly indebted to miss revel," observed the colonel, bowing to her; "and i think we ought to drink her health in a bumper." agreed to, _nem. con._ champagne, thou darling of my heart! to stupefy oneself with other wines, is brutal; but to raise oneself to the seventh heaven with thee, is quite ethereal. the soul appears to spurn the body, and take a transient flight without its dull associate--the--the--broke down, by jupiter! all i meant to say was, that champagne is very pretty _tipple_; and so thought the dinner party, who were proportionally enlivened. "is this orthodox, mr ferguson?" inquired the colonel, holding up his glass. "so far orthodox, that it is very good; and what is orthodox is good," replied the divine, with good-humour. "the _asia_ has made the signal for 'a strange sail--suspicious,'" said the second mate to captain drawlock, putting his head into the cabin. "very well, mr jones, keep a glass upon the commodore." "mrs ferguson, will you take some of this tart! damascene, i believe," said the first mate. "if you please, mr mathews.--did not mr jones say 'suspicious?'--what does that imply?" "imply, madam; why, that he don't like the cut of her jib!" "and pray what does that mean?" "mean, madam: why, that for all he knows to the contrary, she may be a french frigate." "a french frigate! a french frigate! o dear! o dear!" cried two or three ladies at a breath. "mr mathews," said captain drawlock, "i am really surprised at your indiscretion. you have alarmed the ladies. a suspicious sail, mrs ferguson, merely implies--in fact, that they do not know what she is." "is that _all_ it means?" replied mrs ferguson, with an incredulous look. "nothing more, madam; nothing more, i assure you." "commodore has made signal that the strange vessel is a man-of-war bearing down," said the second mate, again entering the cabin. "very well, mr jones," said captain drawlock, with assumed indifference, but at the same time fidgeting on his chair. the first mate and newton immediately quitted the cabin. "miss tavistock, will you take a little of this pudding?" "if you please, sir, a very little." "a man-of-war! i'll go and have a look at her," said the colonel, who rose up, bowed to the ladies, and left the cuddy. "most probably one of our cruisers," observed captain drawlock. "the commodore has made the signal to prepare for action, sir," said the second mate. "very well, mr jones," said captain drawlock, who could now restrain himself no longer. "you must excuse me, ladies, for a moment or two; but our commodore is so _very_ prudent a man, and i am under his orders. in a short time i hope to return to the pleasure of your society." captain drawlock's departure was followed by that of all the male party, with the exception of dr plausible and mr ferguson, both of whom, however, were anxious to go upon deck, and ascertain how matters stood. "mr ferguson, where are you going?" said his wife, sharply. "pray! sir, do us the favour to remain. your profession, if i mistake not, is one of peace." "oh! doctor plausible, i feel very unwell," cried miss tavistock. "i will stay with you, my dear madam," replied the doctor. a gun from the commodore's ship, which was close to windward of them, burst upon their ears, rattling the cabin windows, and making every wine glass on the table to dance with the concussion. "oh! oh! oh!" screamed miss tavistock, throwing herself back in her chair, and expanding her arms and fingers. doctor plausible flew to the lady's assistance. "the extreme fineness of her organic structure,--a little water, if you please, miss charlotte revel." a tumbler of water was poured out, and doctor plausible, dipping the tip of his forefinger into it, passed it lightly over the lady's brows. "she will be better directly." but the lady did not think proper to _come_ to so soon as the doctor prophesied, and mrs ferguson, snatching up the tumbler, dashed the contents with violence in miss tavistock's face; at which miss tavistock not only revived, but jumped up from her chair, blowing and spluttering. "are you better now, miss tavistock?" said mrs ferguson, soothingly, at the same time glancing her eyes at the other ladies, who could not restrain their mirth. "oh! doctor plausible, that shock has so affected my nerves, i feel that i shall faint again, i do indeed--i'm going--" "lean upon me, miss tavistock, and permit me to conduct you to your cabin," replied the doctor; "the extreme delicacy of your constitution," continued he, whispering, as they left the cuddy, "is not equal to the boisterous remedies of mrs ferguson." as they went out, newton forster came in. "you must not be alarmed, ladies, when i state that i am commissioned by captain drawlock to inform you that the stranger's manoeuvres are so doubtful, that we think she is an enemy. he has desired me to request you will accept my convoy to the lower-deck, where you will be safe from accident, in the event of our coming to an engagement. mr ferguson, the captain entrusts the ladies to your charge, and requests that you will not leave them upon any consideration. now, mrs ferguson, will you permit me to escort you to a place of security?" at this intelligence laura revel stared, charlotte burst into tears, and isabel turned pale. mrs ferguson took the arm of newton without saying a word, when the other was offered and accepted by isabel. mr ferguson, with the two other sisters, brought up the rear. the ladies had to pass the quarter-deck, and when they saw the preparations--the guns cast loose, the shot lying on the deck, and all the various apparatus for destruction--their fears increased. when they had been conducted to their place of safety, newton was about to return on deck, when he was seized by miss charlotte and laura revel, who entreated him not to leave them. "do stay with us, mr forster; pray, don't go," cried they both. "i must, indeed, ladies; you are perfectly safe here." "for god's sake, don't you go away, mr forster!" cried laura, falling on her knees. "i shall die of fright.--you sha'n't go!" screamed laura, as the two sisters clung on to the skirts of his jacket, and effectually prevented his escape, unless, like the patriarch, he had left his garment behind. newton cast an appealing glance at isabel, who immediately interfered,--"charlotte, for shame! you are preventing mr forster from going to his duty. my dear laura, do not be so foolish; mr forster can be of no service to us: but he will be on deck. let go, laura." newton was released. "i am much obliged to you, miss isabel," said newton, with his foot on the ladder; "but i have no time now to express my thanks--not to be on deck--" "i know it, mr forster: go up, i beseech you; do not wait a moment:" and newton sprang up the ladder; but not before he had exchanged with isabel a glance which, had he been deficient in courage, would have nerved him for the approaching combat. we must leave the ladies with mr ferguson (who had no pleasant office), while we follow newton on deck. the stranger had borne down with studding-sails, until within three miles of the indiamen, when she rounded to. she then kept away a little, to close nearer, evidently examining the force opposed to her. the indiamen had formed the line of battle in close order, the private signal between english men-of-war and east india ships flying at their mast-heads. "extremely strange, that she does not answer the private signal," said the colonel to the second mate. "not at all, if she don't know how." "you are convinced, then, that she is a french frigate?" "no, not positive; but i'll bet you ten to one she is:--bet off if either of us are killed, of course!" "thanky; i never bet," answered the colonel, turning away. "what do you think of her, mr mathews?" said captain drawlock to the first mate, who had his eye on the ship. "she is english built and english rigged, sir, that i'll swear; look at her lower yard-arms, the squaring of her topsails. she may be french now, but the oak in her timbers grew in old england." "i agree with you," said newton: "look at the rake of her stern; she is english all over." "then, why don't she answer the private signal?" said captain drawlock. "she's right in the wind's eye of us, sir, and our flags are blowing end on from her." "there goes up her bunting, sir," cried the first mate. "english, as i said. the commodore is answering, sir. up with the ensign there abaft. all's right, tell the ladies." "i will; i'll go and inform them," said the colonel; who immediately descended to impart the joyful intelligence. the frigate bore down, and hove to. the commodore of the india squadron went on board, when he found that she was cruising for some large dutch store-ships and vessels armed _en flute_, which were supposed to have sailed from java. in a quarter of an hour, she again made sail and parted company, leaving the indiamen to secure their guns, and pursue their course. there are two parties whose proceedings we had overlooked; we refer to miss tavistock and dr plausible. the latter handed the lady to her cabin, eased her down upon her couch, and taking her hand gently, retained it in his own, while with his other he continued to watch her pulse. "do not alarm yourself, my dear miss tavistock; your sensibility is immense. i will not leave you. i cannot think what could have induced you to trust yourself on such a voyage of danger and excitement." "oh! dr plausible, where my affections are centred there is nothing, weak creature that i am, but my soul would carry me through: indeed i am all soul. i have a dear friend in india." "he is most happy," observed the doctor, with a sigh. "_he_, dr plausible! you quite shock me! do you imagine for a moment that i would go out to follow any gentleman? no, indeed, i am not going out on speculation, as some young ladies. i have enough of my own, thank god! i keep my carriage and corresponding establishment, i assure you."--(the very thing that dr plausible required.) "indeed! my dear miss tavistock, is it then really a female friend?" "yes! the friend of my childhood. i have ventured this tedious, dangerous voyage, once more to fold her in my arms." "disinterested affection! a heart like yours, miss, were indeed a treasure to be won. what a happy man would your husband be!" "husband! oh, dr plausible, don't mention it: i feel convinced,--positively convinced, that my constitution is not strong enough to bear matrimony." the doctor's answer was too prolix for insertion; it was a curious compound dissertation upon love and physic, united. there was devoted attention, extreme gentle treatment, study of pathology, advantage of medical attendance always at hand, careful nursing, extreme solicitude, fragility of constitution restored, propriety of enlarging the circle of her innocent affections, ending at last in devoted love, and a proposal--to share her carriage and establishment. miss tavistock assumed another faint--the shock was so great; but the doctor knelt by her, and kissed her hand, with well affected rapture. at last, she murmured out a low assent, and fell back, as if exhausted with the effort. the doctor removed his lips from her hand to her mouth, to seal the contract; and, as she yielded to his wishes, almost regretted that he had not adhered to his previous less assuming gallantry. chapter xxxvii "'tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark, bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home; 'tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming--and look brighter when we come." byron. edward forster returned home with his little _protégée_, his mind relieved from the weight which had oppressed it: he knew that the word of his brother was his bond, and that under a rough exterior he concealed a generous and sympathising heart. it was in the early part of the autumn that he again took possession of the cottage; and as he once more seated himself in his old arm-chair, he mentally exclaimed, "here then am i again at anchor for a short time, until summoned to another world." his prophecy was correct; during the severe winter that followed, his wound opened again, and his constitution, worn out, gave way to repeated suffering. he had not been confined to his bed more than a fortnight when he felt that his end was approaching. he had long been prepared: nothing remained to be done but to write a letter to his brother, which he confided to robertson, the fisherman, with directions that it should be put in the post-office immediately after his death; and a strict charge to watch over the little girl, until she should be sent for by his brother. this last necessary act had been completed when robertson, who was standing by the side of the bed, with the letter in his hand, informed him that the family at the hall had returned from the continent on the evening before, with their only son, who was now restored to health. this intelligence induced forster to alter his plans; and trusting to the former friendship of lord aveleyn, he despatched robertson to the hall, stating his own condition, and requesting that his lordship would come to the cottage. lord aveleyn immediately obeyed the summons; and perceiving at the first glance that forster's situation debarred all chance of recovery, took upon himself with willingness the charge of the letter, and promised to receive amber into his house until it was convenient that she should be removed. it was dark when lord aveleyn, with melancholy foreboding, took his last farewell; for, ere the sun had risen again, the spirit of edward forster had regained its liberty, and soared to the empyrean, while the deserted amber wept and prayed. edward forster had not concealed from her the precarious tenure of his existence, and since their return from london had made her fully acquainted with all the particulars connected with her own history. the last few weeks, every interval of suffering had been devoted by him to enforce those principles which he ever had inculcated, and to prepare for the event which had now taken place. amber was kneeling by the side of the bed; she had been there so long that she was not aware that it was broad day. her face, laid upon her hands, was completely hidden by her luxuriant hair, which had escaped from the confinement of the comb, when the door of the chamber of death was softly opened. amber, who either did not hear the noise or thought it was the daughter of robertson, who lived as servant in the cottage, raised not her head. the steps continued to approach, then the sound ceased, and amber felt the arms of some one encircling her waist to raise her from her kneeling posture. she lifted up her head, and dividing the hair from her forehead, that she might see who it was, perceived that it was young aveleyn who was hanging over her. "my poor little girl!" said he in a tone of commiseration. "oh! william aveleyn," cried amber, bursting into a paroxysm of tears, as she was folded in his arms. the sorrow of youth is sympathetic, and william aveleyn, although seventeen years old, and fast advancing to manhood, did not disdain to mingle his tears with those of his former playmate. it was some time before he could persuade amber, who clung to him in her grief, to any degree of serenity. "amber dear, you must come to us at the hall; this is no place for you now." "and why not, william? why should i leave so soon? i'm not afraid of being here, or lying by his side alone: i've seen other people die. i saw mrs beazely die--i saw poor 'faithful' die; and now, they _all_ are dead," said amber, bursting into tears, and burying her face in william aveleyn's bosom. "i knew that he was to die," said she, raising her head, after a time--"he told me so; but, to think that i shall never hear him speak again--that very soon i shall never see him more--i must cry, william." "but your father is happy, amber." "_he_ is happy, i know; but he was not my father, william. i have no father--no friend on earth i know of. he told me all before he died; 'faithful' brought me from the sea." this intelligence roused the curiosity of william aveleyn, who interrogated amber, and obtained from her the whole of the particulars communicated by edward forster; and, as she answered to his many questions, she grew more composed. the narrative had scarcely been finished, when lord aveleyn, who had been summoned by robertson, drove to the door accompanied by lady aveleyn, who thought that her presence and persuasions would more readily induce amber to leave the cottage. convinced by her of the propriety of the proposal, amber was put into the carriage without resistance, and conveyed to the hall, where everything that kindness and sympathy could suggest was resorted to, to assuage her grief. there we must leave her, and repair to the metropolis. "scratton," said mr john forster to his clerk, who had answered the bell, "recollect i cannot see anyone today." "you have several appointments, sir," replied the clerk. "then send, and put them all off." "yes, sir; and if anyone calls, i am to say that you are not at home?" "no, i am at home; why tell a lie? but i cannot see anybody." the clerk shut the door; john forster put on his spectacles to re-peruse the letter which lay before him. it was the one from edward, inclosed in a frank by lord aveleyn, with a few lines, announcing his brother's death, and stating that amber was at the hall, where they should be glad that she should remain until it was convenient to send for her. edward's letter repeated his thanks to his brother for his kind promise, and took a last and affectionate farewell. john forster struggled for a time with his feelings; but the more he attempted to repress them the more violent they became. he was alone, and he gave them vent. the legal documents before him, arising from the bitterness of strife, were thus unusually moistened with a tribute to a brother's memory. but in a few moments the old lawyer was himself again; all traces of emotion had disappeared, and no one who had seen him then would ever have imagined that john forster could have been thus moved. the next day he was not as usual to be found at his chambers: the fact was, that he had set off immediately after breakfast, upon what is generally termed "house hunting." the apartments which he occupied in his chambers were not sufficient for the intended increase of his establishment; and when he had given his promise to edward, he was fully aware of the expense which would be entailed by receiving amber, and had made up his mind to incur it. he therefore fixed upon a convenient house in lincoln's inn fields, which would not detach him far from his chambers. having arranged for a lease of twelve years, john forster returned to his chambers. "scratton," said he, "look out for a man-servant, a cook, housemaid, and a steady woman as housekeeper--good characters, and undeniable reference. the housekeeper must be a somewhat superior person, as she will have to take charge of a young miss, and i do not want her spoiled by keeping company with the general description of servants. do you understand?" scratton did; and in less than a month, as everything is to be obtained for money in the city of london, the house was furnished by a city upholsterer in a plain way, and all the servants installed in their respective situations. mr john forster took possession of his new house, and tried for a week if all worked well. ascertaining that the furniture was complete, the under-servants well behaved, and the housekeeper a mild and very intelligent personage, fit to be intrusted with the charge of a little girl, he then wrote to lord aveleyn, reiterating the thanks conveyed in his former letter, and requesting that amber might be delivered into the charge of the bearer. with this letter mr scratton was despatched, and, in due time, arrived at the hall. amber wept bitterly at the idea of parting with those who had been so kind to her, and passing into the hands of one who was a stranger. having exacted a promise from william aveleyn that he would call as he passed through on his way to cambridge, she bade her kind friends farewell, entered the chaise in company with mr scratton, and was hurried off to london. mr scratton was one of those personages who never spoke except on business; and, having no business to transact with a girl of twelve years old, he never spoke at all, except when necessity rendered it imperative. amber was, therefore, left to her own reflections. what they all were, i cannot tell, but one certainly was, that travelling in a chaise for two days with mr scratton was not very agreeable. most happy was she when they drove up to the door of mr john forster's new habitation. the old gentleman, who had calculated the hour of her arrival after the receipt of a letter from her companion, was there to receive her. amber, who had been prepossessed in his favour by edward forster, who had told her that in his brother she would find a protector and indulgent parent, ran up to him when she entered the room, and burst into tears as the injunctions of edward forster returned to her memory. john forster took her in his arms and kissed her. "my little girl," said he, "what my brother was, such will i be to you. consider me as your father; for his memory, and i hope soon, for your own sake, i shall rejoice to be so." after an hour, by which time amber had recovered her serenity, and become almost cheerful, she was consigned to the charge of mrs smith, the housekeeper, and john forster hastened back to his chambers and his clients, to make up for so much lost time. it was not long before the old gentleman discovered that the trouble and expense which he had incurred to please his brother was the occasion of pleasure and gratification. he no longer felt isolated in the world: in short, he had a _home_, where a beaming eye met his return, and an affectionate heart ministered to his wishes; where his well known rap at the door was a source of delight, and his departure one of regret. in a few months amber had entwined herself round the old man's heart: the best masters were procured for her, and all the affection of a doting parent upon an only child was bestowed by him who, when the proposition was made, had declared that "it was bad enough to maintain children of one's own begetting." bless my soul! how poor authors are obliged to gallop about. now i must be off again to india, and get on board of the _bombay castle_. chapter xxxviii "a green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, who, with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd the opening of his mouth." shakespeare. the _bombay castle_ arrived at madras without further adventure. a few hours after she had anchored, all the passengers, receiving kind messages from, or escorted on shore by their relatives or consignees, had landed; all, with the exception of the three miss revels, whose anxiety to land was increased by the departure of the others, and the unpleasant situation in which they were placed, by remaining a clog upon captain drawlock, who would not quit his ship until he had surrendered up his charge. by inquiry of the dubashes, captain drawlock found out that old colonel revel was residing at his bungalow, about two miles distant from the fort; and supposing him not to be aware of the arrival of his grand-nieces, he despatched newton forster to acquaint him with the circumstance. it was late in the afternoon when newton arrived at the residence of the colonel, when he perceived immediately that everything was on the establishment of an old indian nabob. a double set of palanquin-bearers were stretched under the verandas; syces were fanning the horses with their chowries, tailors and various craftsmen were at work in the shade, while a herd of consumers, butlers, and other indian domestics, were loitering about, or very busy doing nothing. it will be necessary, before newton is introduced to the colonel, that the colonel should be introduced to the reader. he was a man of nearly sixty years of age, forty-five of which, with the exception of occasional furlough, had been passed in the country. having held several lucrative situations for many years, and, although not parsimonious, being very prudent in money concerns, he had amassed a very large fortune. more than once he had returned to england on leave, and with the full intention of remaining there, if he could be comfortable; but a few months in his native country only made him more anxious to return to india. his habits, his tastes, were all eastern; the close hospitality, the cold winter of england, the loss of consequence, naturally resulting when a man mixes in the crowd of london, all disgusted him, and he invariably returned to india long before his furlough had expired. he was a bachelor from choice. when young, he had been very cruelly treated by the object of his admiration, who deserted him for a few lacs of rupees, which offered themselves with an old man as their appendage. this had raised his bile against the sex in general, whom he considered as mercenary and treacherous. his parties were numerous and expensive, but women were never to be seen in his house; and his confirmed dislike to them was the occasion of his seldom visiting, except with those who were like himself in a state of happy singleness. in other points, he was a liberal, worthy man, and a perfect gentleman, but extremely choleric in disposition. newton addressed himself to one of the butlers, requesting to be announced. the man led the way to a spacious hall, coated and floored with chunam, when newton perceived the colonel, who presented rather a singular spectacle. "burra saib; saib," said the indian, and immediately retired. the colonel was a tall, gaunt man, with high cheekbones, bushy eyebrows, and white hair. he was seated on a solitary chair in the centre of the hall; his dress consisting of a pair of white nankeen trousers and a white shirt, the sleeves of the latter tucked up to his shoulders, and exposing sinewy arms, covered with hair. by his side lay a basket of mangoes, and before his chair a large tub of water. as newton entered, he had an opportunity of witnessing the most approved method of eating this exquisite fruit. the colonel had then one as large as a cassowary's egg, held in both hands, and applied to his mouth, while he held his head over the tub of water, to catch the superabundant juice which flowed over his face, hands and arms, and covered them with a yellow stain. the contents of the mango were soon exhausted; the stone and pulp were dropped into the tub of water, and the colonel's hand was extended to the basket for a repetition of his luxurious feast, when newton was announced. newton was sorry to interrupt him, and would have made an apology, had he not observed that the colonel, whose back was towards him, continued his pleasing avocation: the fact was that the colonel was so intent upon his occupation that he had neither heard the announcement nor could he perceive newton, who thus had an opportunity of witnessing the demolition of at least two dozen more mangoes without the colonel having turned his eyes in that direction, or being aware that he was not alone. but something at length attracted the attention of newton, and induced him to come forward, and put an end to the colonel's repast. the colonel had just taken another mango out of the basket, when newton perceived a small snake wind itself over the rim, and curl up one of the feet of the colonel's chair, in such a position that the very next time that the colonel reached out his hand, he must have come in contact with the reptile. newton hardly knew how to act; the slightest movement of the old gentleman might be fatal to him; he therefore walked up softly and was about to strike the reptile on the head with his stick, when the colonel, as he leant over the tub, half rose from the chair. in an instant, newton snatched it from under him, and jerked it, with the snake, to the corner of the hall. the colonel, whose centre of gravity had not been thrown sufficiently forward to enable him to keep his feet, fell backward, when newton and he both rolled on the floor together; and also both recovered their legs at the same time. "you'll excuse me, sir," said newton. "i'll be d----d if i do, sir!" interrupted the colonel, in a rage. "who the devil are you?--and how dare you presume to play off such impertinent jokes upon a stranger?--where did you come from?--how did you get in, sir?" "is that a joke, sir?" replied newton, calmly pointing to the snake, which was still hissing in its wrath at the corner of the room where the chair lay. newton then briefly explained the circumstances. "sir, i beg your pardon a thousand times, and am very much your debtor. it is the most venomous snake that we have in the country. i trust you will accept my apology for a moment's irritation; and, at the same time, my sincere thanks." the colonel then summoned the servants, who provided themselves with bamboos, and soon despatched the object which had occasioned the misunderstanding. the colonel then apologised to newton, while he repaired to the bath, and in a few minutes returned, having undergone this necessary ablution after a mango feast. his dress was changed, and he offered the appearance of an upright, gentleman-like, hard-featured man, who had apparently gone through a great deal of service without his stamina having been much impaired. "i beg your pardon, my dear sir, for detaining you. may i request the pleasure of your name and the occasion of your providential visit?" "i have a letter for you, sir," replied newton, who had been intrusted with the one which mr revel had given to his daughters on their embarkation. "oh! a letter of introduction. it is now quite superfluous, you have already introduced yourself." "no, sir, it is not a letter of recommendation in my behalf, but to announce the arrival of your three grand-nieces--daughters of the honourable mr revel--in the _bombay castle_, the ship to which i belong." "what?" roared the colonel, "my three grand-nieces! daughters of mr revel!" "so i have understood from them, sir." the colonel tore open the letter, in which mr revel very coolly informed him that not having received any answers to his former epistles on the subject, he presumed that they had miscarried, and had therefore been induced, in consequence of the difficulties which he laboured under, to send his daughters out to his kind protection. the colonel, as soon as he had finished the perusal of the letter, tore it into pieces again and again, every renewed action showing an increase of excitement. he then threw the fragments on the floor, stamping upon them in an ecstasy of rage. "the d----d scoundrel!--the villain!--the rascal!--do you know, sir, that when i was last in england this fellow swindled me out of a thousand pounds? yes, sir, a thousand pounds, by g-d! promised to pay me in three weeks; and when i was coming back, and asked him for my money, he laughed at me, and ordered his servant not to let me in. and now he has sent out his three daughters to me--pawned them off upon me, laughing, i suppose, in his sleeve, as he did when he cheated me before. i'll not receive them, by g-d! they may find their way back again how they can;" and the colonel paced the room up and down, throwing his arms about in his fury. newton waited some time before he ventured to make any observation; indeed, he was so astonished at such an unheard-of proceeding, and so shocked at the unfortunate situation of isabel, that he hardly knew what to say. "am i then to inform the young ladies that you will not receive them?" "you don't know me, sir. when did i ever receive a woman into my house? they are all alike, sir. plotted with their father, i'll answer for, with the hopes of getting husbands. tell them, sir, that i'll see them d----d first! swindling scoundrel!--first cheats me out of a thousand pounds, and then tries to cheat me into providing for his family!" newton paused a little, to allow the colonel's wrath to subside, and then observed--"i never was so much distressed as to be the bearer of your message. the young ladies are certainly no parties to their father's dishonesty, and are in a situation much to be pitied. in a foreign country, thousands of miles from their friends, without means of subsistence, or of paying their passage home. what is to become of them?" "i don't care." "that your indignation is just, colonel revel, i admit; but allowing that you will not receive them, how are they to return home? captain drawlock, i am sure, would give them a passage; but we proceed to china. poor girls!" continued newton, with a sigh. "i should like to make a remark, colonel revel, if it were not considered too great a liberty in a stranger." "you have already taken a liberty which in all probability has saved my life. i shall be happy to listen to any remark that you may wish to offer." "it was, sir, that, reprehensible as their father's conduct may be, common humanity, and a regard for your own character, will hardly warrant their being left thus destitute. they, at least, are your relations, and have neither offended nor deceived you; on the contrary, are, with you, joint victims of their father's deception." "you appear to take a great interest in these young ladies," observed the colonel, sharply. "if i had never seen them, sir, their present unfortunate dilemma would be sufficient. knowing them intimately as i do, i must say that this intelligence will be, to one, at least, a death-blow. i would to god that i were able to assist and protect her!" "very handsome, then, i presume?" replied the colonel, with a sneer. "she certainly is, sir; but it was not admiration of her beauty which occasioned the remark. if you knew her, sir, you would be as sorry to part with her, as you now appear to be to receive her." the colonel continued to pace the room, but with less violence than before. newton observed this, and therefore was silent, hoping that reflection would induce him to alter his resolution. in a few minutes, apparently forgetting the presence of newton, the colonel commenced talking to himself aloud, muttering out a few detached phrases:--"must take them in, by g-d! couldn't show my face--no where--d----d scoundrel! keep them here till next ship--till they are as yellow as gamboge, then send them home--revenge in that." thus did the old gentleman mutter loud enough for newton to overhear. a few minutes more were spent in perambulation, when he threw himself into the chair. "i think, my young acquaintance, you appear to be interested for these relations of mine; or at least for one of them." "i certainly am, sir; and so is everyone who is acquainted with her." "well, i am glad to hear that there is one good out of the three. i have been put in a passion--no wonder; and i have said more than should be repeated. were it known that these girls had been sent out to me in this way, the laugh would be raised against me, as it is known that i am not very partial to women; and it would also be of serious injury to them and their prospects. i have determined upon receiving them, for the best of all possible reasons--i can't help myself. you will, therefore, add to the obligations of this day, by saying nothing about what has been made known to you." "most certainly, sir; i will pledge you my honour, if it is requested." "when i say not mention it, i mean to other parties; but to the girls, i must request you to state the facts. i will not have them come here, pawing and fondling, and wheedling me as an old bachelor, with a few lacs of rupees to be coaxed out of. it would make me sick; i detest women and their ways. now, if they are informed of the real state of the case, that they are here only on sufferance; that i neither wished nor want them; and that i have been imposed upon by their scoundrel of a father, i may keep them at the other end of the bungalow, and not be annoyed with their company; until, upon plea of bad health, or some other excuse, i can pay their passage back again." "could you not state these facts yourself, sir?" "no, i never meddle with women; besides, it is better that they should know it before they come here. if you will promise me what i now request, why, i will consent to give them house-room; if not, they may stay where they are. it will be but a few days' laugh at me, or abuse of me, i care little which." "well, sir, unpleasant as this intelligence must be, their present suspense is still more so. you will allow me to disclose it in as delicate a manner as possible." "you may be as refined as you please, provided that you tell the exact truth, which i am convinced that you will, by your countenance." "then, i will take my leave, sir," replied newton. "fare you well, my dear sir; recollect that my house is your home; and although not fond of the society of women, i shall be delighted with yours. the young ladies may be brought on shore to the hotel, and i will send a carriage for them. good-bye,--what is your name?" "forster, sir." "good-bye, then, mr forster, for the present;" and the colonel quitted the room. chapter xxxix "then there were sighs, the deeper for suppression, and stolen glances, sweeter for the theft, and burning blushes, though for no transgression, tremblings when met, and restlessness when left. all these are little preludes to possession, of which young passion cannot be bereft, and merely tend to show how greatly love is embarrassed, at first starting, with a novice." byron. it was in no very happy frame of mind that newton quitted the colonel's house to execute his mission to the miss revels. that the two eldest, provided they were admitted, would not much take to heart either the conduct of their father or the coolness of their relation, he was pretty well assured; but he was too well acquainted with isabel's character not to know that she would deeply feel the humiliating situation in which she was placed, and that it would prey upon her generous and sensitive mind. as, however, there was no remedy, he almost congratulated himself that, as the colonel's message was to be delivered, the commission had been placed in his trust. captain drawlock, tired of waiting, had escorted the young ladies on shore to the hotel, anxiously expecting the arrival of newton, who was conducted there by a messenger despatched to intercept him. "well, mr forster, is it all right?" said captain drawlock, on his appearance. "the colonel's carriage will be here for the ladies in less than half an hour," replied newton, evasively. "then, miss revels, as i am extremely busy, i shall wish you good-morning, and will have the pleasure of paying my respects before i sail. allow me to offer you my best thanks for your company during our voyage, and to assure you how much your presence has contributed to enliven it. forster, you will, of course, remain with the miss revels, and see them safe in the carriage;" and captain drawlock, who appeared to consider his responsibility over with the voyage, shook hands with them, and quitted the hotel. "mr forster," said isabel, as soon as captain drawlock was out of hearing, "i am sure, by your countenance, that there has been something unpleasant. is it not so?" "i am sorry to answer in the affirmative, and more sorry to be forced to impart the cause." newton then entered into a detail of what had passed at the colonel's house. isabel listened to it with attention, her sisters with impatience. miss charlotte, with an air of consternation, inquired whether the colonel had refused to receive them: on being informed to the contrary, she appeared to be satisfied. laura simpered, and observed, "how very odd of papa!" and then seemed to think no more about it. isabel made no observation; she remained on her chair, apparently in deep and painful thought. a few minutes after the communication the colonel's carriage made its appearance, and newton proposed that they should quit the hotel. charlotte and laura were all ready and impatient, but isabel remained seated by the table. "come, isabel," cried charlotte. "i cannot go, my dear charlotte," replied isabel; "but do not let me prevent you or laura from deciding for yourselves." "not go!" cried the two sisters at once. isabel was firm; and newton, who did not think himself authorised to interfere, was a silent witness to the continued persuasions and expostulations of the two elder, and the refusal of the younger sister. nearly half an hour thus passed away, when charlotte and laura decided that they would go, and send back the carriage for isabel, who by that time would have come to her senses. the heartless, unthinking girls tripped gaily down to the carriage, and drove off. newton, who had escorted them, retraced his steps, with a beating heart, to the room where he had left isabel. she was in tears. "do i intrude, miss revel?" said newton, who could not repress his emotion at the sight. "oh, no! i expected and wished that you would return, mr forster. do you think that you could find captain drawlock? i should feel much obliged if you would take that trouble for me." "i will immediately go in search of him, if you wish it. believe me, miss revel, i feel most sincerely for your situation; and, if it were not considered an impertinent question, i should ask you what may be your present intentions?" "acquainted as you are with all the circumstances, mr forster, the question is not impertinent, but kind. god knows that i require an adviser. i would, if possible, conceal the facts from captain drawlock. it is not for a daughter to publish a father's errors; but you know all, and i can therefore have no scruple in consulting with you: i do not see why i should. my resolution is, at best, a hasty one; but it is, never to enter the house of my relation under such humiliating circumstances--that is decided: but how to act, or what to do, is where i require advice. i am in a cruel situation. what a helpless creature is a woman! were i a man, i could have worked my passage home, or have honestly obtained my bread in this place; but a woman--a young and unprotected woman--in a distant clime, and without a friend--" "do not say that you are without a friend; one who has at least the will, if not the power to serve you," replied newton. "no--not without a friend; but what avails a friend whose assistance i could not accept? it is to captain drawlock, therefore, that i must apply, and, painful as it may be, throw myself upon his generosity; for that reason i wished to see him. he may advise some means by which i may obtain a passage home. i will return in any capacity--as a nurse to children, as an attendant--anything that is creditable. i would watch over the couch of fever, pestilence, and plague, for months, rather than appear to be a party to my father's duplicity. oh! mr forster, what must you think of the daughters, after what you have heard of the parent's conduct?"--and isabel burst into tears. newton could contain himself no longer. "my dear miss revel, let me persuade you to compose yourself," said he, taking her hand, which was not withdrawn. "if you feel on this occasion, so do i most deeply--most deeply, because i can only lament, and dare not offer to assist you. the means of returning to your own country i can easily procure from captain drawlock; but would you accept it from me? i know--i cannot expect that you would; and that, under such circumstances, it would be insulting in me to offer it. think, then, what pain i must feel to witness your distress, and yet dare not offer to assist one for whom--oh! my god--" ended newton, checking his feelings. "i feel the kindness and the delicacy of your conduct, mr forster; and i will candidly acknowledge, that, could i accept it, there is no one to whom i would more cheerfully be under an obligation; but the world will not permit it." "what shall i do, miss revel?--shall i go for captain drawlock?" "stay a little while; i wish to reflect. what would you advise?--as a friend, tell me candidly, mr forster." "i am indeed proud that you allow me that title. it is all that i ever dare hope for; but isabel (i beg your pardon, miss revel, i should have said)--" "nay, nay, i am not displeased. why not isabel? we have known one another long enough; and, deserted as i feel, a kind word now--" isabel covered her face with her hand. newton, who was standing by her, was overcome by the intensity of his feelings; gradually they approached nearer, until by, i suppose, the same principle which holds the universe together--the attraction of cohesion--newton's arm encircled the waist of isabel, and she sobbed upon his shoulder. it was with difficulty that newton refrained from pouring out his soul, and expressing the ardent love which he had so long felt for her; but it was taking advantage of her situation. he had nothing to offer but himself and beggary. he did refrain. the words were not spoken; yet isabel divined his thoughts, appreciated his forbearance, and loved him more for his resolution. "isabel," said newton, at length, with a sigh, "i never valued or wished for wealth till now. till this hour i never felt the misery of being poor." "i believe you, mr forster; and i am grateful, as i know that it is for my sake that you feel it; but," continued she, recovering herself, "crying will do no good. i asked you for your advice, and you have only given me your arm." "i am afraid it is all i shall ever have to offer," replied newton. "but, isabel, allow me to ask you one question:--are you resolved never to enter your relation's house?" "not on the humiliating terms which he has proposed. let the colonel come here for me and take me home with him, and then i will remain there until i can return to england; if not, i will submit to any privation, to any honest humiliation, rather than enter under his roof. but, indeed, mr forster, it is necessary that captain drawlock should be summoned. we are here alone: it is not correct: you must feel that it is not." "i do feel that it is not; but, isabel, i was this morning of some trifling service to the colonel, and may have some little weight with him. will you allow me to return to him, and try what i can do? it will not be dark for these two hours, and i will soon be back." isabel assented. newton hastened to the colonel, who had already been much surprised when he had been informed by his domestics (for he had not seen them) that only two ladies had arrived. the old gentleman was now cool. the explanation and strong persuasions of newton, coupled with the spirited behaviour of isabel, whose determination was made known to him, and which was so different from the general estimate he had formed of the sex, at last prevailed. the colonel ordered his carriage, and, in company with newton, drove to the hotel, made a sort of apology--a wonderful effort on his part, and requested his grand-niece to accept of his hospitality. in a few minutes isabel and the colonel were out of sight, and newton was left to his own reflections. a few days afterwards newton accepted the colonel's invitation to dine, when he found that affairs were going on better than he expected. the old gentleman had been severely quizzed by those who were intimate with him, at the addition to his establishment, and had winced not a little under the lash; but, on the whole, he appeared more reconciled than would have been expected. newton, however, observed that, when speaking of the three sisters, he invariably designated them as "my grand-niece, and the two other young women." chapter xl "rich in the gems of india's gaudy zone, and plunder piled from kingdoms not their own, degenerate trade! thy minions could despise thy heart-born anguish of a thousand cries: could lock, with impious hands, their teeming store, while famish'd nations died along the shore; could mock the groans of fellow-men, and bear the curse of kingdoms, peopled with despair; could stamp disgrace on man's polluted name, and barter with their gold eternal shame." campbell. gold!--gold! for thee, what will man not attempt?--for thee, to what degradation will he not submit?--for thee, what will he not risk in this world, or prospectively in the next? industry is rewarded by thee; enterprise is supported by thee; crime is cherished, and heaven itself is bartered for thee, thou powerful auxiliary of the devil! one tempter was sufficient for the fall of man; but thou wert added, that he ne'er might rise again. survey the empire of india; calculate the millions of acres, the billions with which it is peopled, and then pause while you ask yourself the question--how is it that a company of merchants claim it as their own? by what means did it come into their possession? honestly, they will reply. honestly! you went there as suppliants; you were received with kindness and hospitality, and your request was granted, by which you obtained a footing on the soil. now you are lords of countless acres, masters of millions, who live or perish as you will; receivers of enormous tribute. why, how is this? honestly, again you say; by treaty, by surrender, by taking from those who would have destroyed us the means of doing injury. honestly! say it again, that heaven may register, and hell may chuckle at your barefaced, impudent assertion. no! by every breach of faith which could disgrace an infidel; by every act of cruelty which could disgrace our nature; by extortion, by rapine, by injustice, by mockery of all laws, or human or divine. the thirst for gold, and a golden country, led you on; and in these scorching regions you have raised the devil on his throne, and worshipped him in his proud pre-eminence as mammon. let us think. is not the thirst for gold a temptation to which our natures are doomed to be subjected--part of the ordeal which we have to pass? or why is it that there never is sufficient? it appears to be ordained by providence that this metal, obtained from the earth to feed the avarice of man, should again return to it. if all the precious ore which for a series of ages has been raised from the dark mine were now in tangible existence, how trifling would be its value! how inadequate as a medium of exchange for the other productions of nature, or of art! if all the diamonds and other precious stones which have been collected from the decomposed rocks (for hard as they once were, like all sublunary matter, they too yield to time) why, if all were remaining on the earth, the frolic gambols of the may-day sweep would shake about those gems, which now are to be found in profusion only where rank and beauty pay homage to the thrones of kings. arts and manufactures consume a large proportion of the treasures of the mine, and as the objects fall into decay, so does the metal return to the earth again. but it is in eastern climes, where it is collected, that it soonest disappears. where the despot reigns, and the knowledge of an individual's wealth is sufficient warranty to seal his doom, it is to the care of the silent earth alone that the possessor will commit his treasures; he trusts not to relation or to friend, for gold is too powerful for human ties. it is but on his death-bed that he imparts the secret of his deposit to those he leaves behind him; often called away before he has time to make it known, reserving the fond secret till too late; still clinging to life, and all that makes life dear to him. often does the communication, made from the couch of death, in half-articulated words, prove so imperfect, that the knowledge of its existence is of no avail unto his intended heirs; and thus it is that millions return again to the earth from which they have been gathered with such toil. what avarice has dug up avarice buries again; perhaps in future ages to be regained by labour, when, from the chemical powers of eternal and mysterious nature, they have again been filtered through the indurated earth, and reassumed the form and the appearance of the metal which has lain in darkness since the creation of the world. is not this part of the grand principle of the universe?--the eternal cycle of reproduction and decay, pervading all and every thing--blindly contributed to by the folly and wickedness of man! "so far shalt thou go, but no further," was the fiat; and, arrived at the prescribed limit, we must commence again. at this moment intellect has seized upon the seven-league boots of the fable, which fitted everybody who drew them on, and strides over the universe. how soon, as on the decay of the roman empire, may all the piles of learning which human endeavours would rear as a tower of babel to scale the heavens, disappear, leaving but fragments to future generations, as proofs of pre-existent knowledge! whether we refer to nature or to art, to knowledge or to power, to accumulation or destruction, bounds have been prescribed which man can never pass, guarded as they are by the same unerring and unseen power, which threw the planets from his hand, to roll in their appointed orbits. all appears confused below, but all is clear in heaven. i have somewhere heard it said, that wherever heaven may be, those who reach it will behold the mechanism of the universe in its perfection. those stars, now studding the firmament in such apparent confusion, will there appear in all their regularity, as worlds revolving in their several orbits, round suns which gladden them with light and heat, all in harmony, all in beauty, rejoicing as they roll their destined course in obedience to the almighty fiat; one vast, stupendous, and, to the limits of our present senses, incomprehensible mechanism, perfect in all its parts, most wonderful in the whole. nor do i doubt it: it is but reasonable to suppose it. he that hath made this world and all upon it can have no limits to his power. i wonder whether i shall ever see it. i said just now, let us think. i had better have said, let us not think; for thought is painful, even dangerous when carried to excess. happy is he who thinks but little, whose ideas are so confined as not to cause the intellectual fever, wearing out the mind and body, and often threatening both with dissolution. there is a happy medium of intellect, sufficient to convince us that all is good--sufficient to enable us to comprehend that which is revealed, without a vain endeavour to pry into the hidden; to understand the one, and lend our faith unto the other; but when the mind would soar unto the heaven not opened to it, or dive into sealed and dark futurity, how does it return from its several expeditions? confused, alarmed, unhappy; willing to rest, yet restless; willing to believe, yet doubting; willing to end its futile travels, yet setting forth anew. yet, how is a superior understanding envied! how coveted by all!--a gift which always leads to danger, and often to perdition. thank heaven! i have not been entrusted with one of those thorough-bred, snorting, champing, foaming sort of intellects, which run away with common sense, who is jerked from his saddle at the beginning of its wild career. mine is a good, steady, useful hack, who trots along the high-road of life, keeping on his own side, and only stumbling a little now and then, when i happen to be careless,--ambitious only to arrive safely at the end of his journey, not to pass by others. why am i no longer ambitious? once i was, but 'twas when i was young and foolish. then methought "it were an easy leap to pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon;" but now i am old and fat, and there is something in fat which chokes or destroys ambition. it would appear that it is requisite for the body to be active and springing as the mind; and if it is not, it weighs the latter down to its own gravity. who ever heard of a fat man being ambitious? cæsar was a spare man; buonaparte was thin as long as he climbed the ladder; nelson was a shadow. the duke of wellington has not sufficient fat in his composition to grease his own wellington-boots. in short, i think my hypothesis to be fairly borne out, that fat and ambition are incompatible. it is very melancholy to be forced to acknowledge this, for i am convinced that it may be of serious injury to my works. an author with a genteel figure will always be more read than one who is corpulent. all his etherealness departs. some young ladies may have fancied me an elegant young man, like lytton bulwer, full of fun and humour, concealing all my profound knowledge under the mask of levity, and have therefore read my books with as much delight as has been afforded by "pelham." but the truth must be told. i am a grave, heavy man, with my finger continually laid along my temple, seldom speaking unless spoken to--and when ladies talk, i never open my mouth; the consequence is, that sometimes, when there is a succession of company, i do not speak for a week. moreover, i am married, with five small children; and now all i look forward to, and all i covet, is to live in peace, and die in my bed. i wonder why i did not commence authorship before! how true it is that a man never knows what he can do until he tries! the fact is, i never thought that i could make a novel; and i was thirty years old before i stumbled on the fact. what a pity! writing a book reminds me very much of making a passage across the atlantic. at one moment, when the ideas flow, you have the wind aft, and away you scud, with a flowing sheet, and a rapidity which delights you: at other times, when your spirit flags, and you gnaw your pen (i have lately used iron pens, for i'm a devil of a crib-biter), it is like unto a foul wind, tack and tack, requiring a long time to get on a short distance. but still you do go, although but slowly; and in both cases we must take the foul wind with the fair. if a ship were to furl her sails until the wind was again favourable, her voyage would be protracted to an indefinite time; and if an author were to wait until he again felt in a humour, it would take a life to write a novel. whenever the wind is foul, which it now most certainly is, for i am writing anything but "newton forster," and which will account for this rambling, stupid chapter, made up of odds and ends, strung together like what we call "skewer pieces" on board of a man-of-war; when the wind is foul, as i said before, i have, however, a way of going a-head by getting up the steam, which i am now about to resort to--and the fuel is brandy. all on this side of the world are asleep, except gamblers, house-breakers, the new police, and authors. my wife is in the arms of morpheus--an allegorical _crim. con._, which we husbands are obliged to wink at; and i am making love to the brandy-bottle, that i may stimulate my ideas, as unwilling to be roused from their dark cells of the brain as the spirit summoned by lochiel, who implored at each response, "leave, oh! leave me to repose." now i'll invoke them, conjure them up, like little imps, to do my bidding:-- by this glass which now i drain, by this spirit, which shall cheer you, as its fumes mount to my brain, from thy torpid slumbers rear you. by this head, so tired with thinking, by this hand, no longer trembling, by these lips, so fond of drinking, let me feel that you're assembling. by the bottle placed before me, (food for you, ere morrow's sun), by this second glass, i pour me, come, you _little beggars_, come. chapter xli "british sailors have a knack, haul away, yo ho, boys. of hauling down a frenchman's jack 'gainst any odds, you know, boys." old song. there was, i flatter myself, some little skill in the introduction of the foregoing chapter, which has played the part of chorus during the time that the _bombay castle_ has proceeded on to canton, has taken in her cargo, and is on her passage home, in company with fifteen other east indiamen and several country ships, all laden with the riches of the east, and hastening to pour their treasures into the lap of their country. millions were floating on the waters, entrusted to the skill of merchant-seamen to convey them home in safety, and to their courage to defend them from the enemy, which had long been lying in wait to intercept them. by a very unusual chance or oversight, there had been no men-of-war despatched to protect property of such enormous value. the indian fleet had just entered the straits of malacca, and were sailing in open order, with a fresh breeze and smooth water. the hammocks had been stowed, the decks washed, and the awnings spread. shoals of albicore were darting across the bows of the different ships; and the seamen perched upon the cat-heads and spritsail-yard, had succeeded in piercing with their harpoons many, which were immediately cut up, and in the frying-pans for breakfast. but very soon they had "other fish to fry;" for one of the indiamen, the _royal george_, made the signal that there were four strange sail in the s.w. "a gun from the commodore, sir," reported newton, who was officer of the watch. "the flags are up--they are not our pennants." it was an order to four ships of the fleet to run down and examine the strange vessels. half-an-hour elapsed, during which time the glasses were at every mast-head. captain drawlock himself, although not much given to climbing, having probably had enough of it during his long career in the service, was to be seen in the main-top. doubts, suspicions, declarations, surmises, and positive assertions were bandied about, until they were all dispelled by the reconnoitring ships telegraphing, "a french squadron, consisting of one line-of-battle ship, three frigates, and a brig." it was, in fact, the well-known squadron of admiral linois, who had scoured the indian seas, ranging it up and down with the velocity as well as the appetite of a shark. his force consisted of the _marengo_, of eighty guns; the famed _belle poule_, a forty-gun frigate, which outstripped the wind; the _sémìllante_, of thirty-six guns; the _berceau_, ship corvette, of twenty-two, and a brig of sixteen. they had sailed from batavia on purpose to intercept the china fleet, having received intelligence that it was unprotected, and anticipating an easy conquest, if not an immediate surrender to their overpowering force. "the recall is up on board of the commodore," said mathews, the first mate, to captain drawlock. "very well, keep a good look-out; he intends to fight, i'll answer for it. we must not surrender up millions to these french scoundrels without a tussle." "i should hope not," replied mathews; "but that big fellow will make a general average among our tea canisters, i expect, when we do come to the scratch. there go the flags, sir," continued mathews, repeating the number to captain drawlock, who had the signal-book in his hand. "form line of battle in close order, and prepare for action," read captain drawlock from the signal-book. a cheer resounded through the fleet when the signal was made known. the ships were already near enough to each other to hear the shouting, and the confidence of others added to their own. "if we only had _all_ english seamen on board, instead of these lascars and chinamen, who look so blank," observed newton to mathews, "i think we should show them some play." "yes," growled mathews; "john company will some day find out the truth of the old proverb, 'penny wise and pound foolish!'" the french squadron, which had continued on the wind to leeward until they could fetch the india fleet, now tacked, and laid up directly for them. in the meantime, the english vessels were preparing for action: the clearing of their lumbered decks was the occasion of many a coop of fowls, or pig of the true china breed, exchanging their destiny for a watery grave. fortunately, there were no passengers. homeward-bound china ships are not encumbered in that way, unless to astonish the metropolis with such monstrosities as the mermaid, or as the siamese twins, coupled by nature like two hounds (separated lately indeed by lytton bulwer, who has satisfactorily proved that "unity between brethren," so generally esteemed a blessing, on the contrary, is a bore). in a short time all was ready, and the india fleet continued their course under easy sail, neither courting nor avoiding the conflict. at nightfall the french squadron hauled to the wind; the conduct of the china fleet rendered them cautious, and the french admiral considered it advisable to ascertain, by broad daylight, whether a portion of the english ships were not men-of-war; their cool and determined behaviour certainly warranted the suspicion. it was now to be decided whether the indiamen should take advantage of the darkness of the night to escape, or wait the result of the ensuing day. the force opposed to them was formidable and concentrated; their own, on the contrary, was weak from division, each ship not having more than sixty english seamen on board; the country ships none at all, the few belonging to them having volunteered on board of the indiamen. in his decision commodore dance proved his judgment as well as his courage. in an attempt to escape, the fleet would separate; and, from the well-known superior sailing of the french squadron, most of them would be overtaken, and, being attacked singlehanded, fall an easy prey to the enemy. in this opinion the captains of the indiamen, who had communicated during the night, were unanimous, and equally so in the resolution founded upon it, "to keep together and fight to the last." the india fleet lay to for the night, keeping their lights up and the men at their quarters; most of the english seamen sound asleep, the lascars and chinese sitting up in groups, expressing, in their own tongues, their fear of the approaching combat, in which, whether risked for national honour or individual property, they could have no interest. the morning broke, and discovered the french squadron about three miles to windward. admiral linois had calculated that if the fleet consisted only of merchant vessels they would have profited by the darkness to have attempted to escape, and he had worked to windward during the night, that he might be all ready to pounce down upon his quarry. but when he perceived that the english ships did not attempt to increase their distance he was sadly puzzled. the french tricolour hardly had time to blow clear from their taffrails, when the english unions waved aloft in defiance; and that admiral linois might be more perplexed by the arrangements of the night, three of the most warlike indiamen displayed the red ensign, while the remainder of the ships hoisted up the blue. this _ruse_ led the french admiral to suppose that these three vessels were men-of-war, composing the escort of the fleet. at nine o'clock the commodore made the signal to fill; and the french squadron not bearing down, the india fleet continued its course under easy sail. the french admiral then edged away with his squadron, with the intention of cutting off the country ships, which had been stationed to leeward; but which, since the british fleet had hauled their wind, had been left in the rear. it was now requisite for the british commander to act decidedly and firmly. captain timmins, an officer for courage and conduct not surpassed by any in our naval service, who commanded the _royal george_, edged to within hail of the commodore, and recommended that the order should be given to tack in succession, bear down in a line-a-head, and engage the enemy. this spirited advice was acted upon; the _royal george_ leading into action, followed by the other ships in such close order that their flying jib-booms were often pointed over the taffrails of their predecessors. in a quarter of an hour was to be witnessed the unusual spectacle of a fleet of merchant ships exchanging broadsides with the best equipped and highest disciplined squadron that ever sailed from france. in less than an hour was presented the more unusual sight of this squadron flying from the merchant ships, and the signal for a general chase answered with enthusiastic cheers. that admiral linois might have supposed, previous to the engagement, that some of the british ships were men-of-war, is probable; but that he knew otherwise after they had commenced action, must also have been the case. the fact was, he was frightened at their determined courage and their decided conduct; and he fled, not from the guns, but from the _men_. i do not know on record any greater instance of heroism on the part of british seamen; and i am delighted that newton forster was in the conflict, or of course i could not have introduced it in this work. and now, those who read for amusement may, if they please, skip over to the next chapter. there are points connected with the india service which i intend to comment upon; and as all the wisdom of the age is confined to novels, and nobody reads pamphlets, i introduce them here. when one man is empowered to hold in check, and to insist upon the obedience of a large proportion of his fellows, it can only be by "opinion" that his authority can be supported. by "opinion" i mean the knowledge that he is so empowered by the laws of the country to which they all belong, and by which laws they will be punished, if they act in opposition to his authority. the fiat of the individual commanding is in this case the fiat of the nation at large; to contend with this fiat is not contending with the individual, but with the nation, to whose laws they must submit, or return to their country no more. a commander of a vessel, therefore, armed with martial law, is, in fact, representing and executing, not his own will, but that of the nation who have made the law; for he is amenable, as well as his inferiors, if he acts contrary to, or misuses it. in the merchant service martial law is not permitted; the bye-laws relative to shipping, and the common law of the country, are supposed to be sufficient; and certainly the present system is more advisable than to vest such excessive power in the hands of men, who, generally speaking, neither require nor are fit to be entrusted with it. where, as in the greater number of merchant vessels, the master and his subordinate officers compose one-third, if not one-half of the complement on board, nothing but the most flagrant conduct is likely to produce insubordination. but in the east india service the case is different. the vessels themselves are of dimensions equal, if not superior, to our largest class of frigates, and they carry from thirty to forty guns; the property embarked in them is also of such an extent, that the loss almost becomes national: their commanders are men of superior attainments, as gentlemen and as officers; finally, the complement of seamen under their command is larger than on board of many of the king's ships. the above considerations will at once establish that those bye-laws which afford protection to the well-governing of the merchant service in general, are not sufficient to maintain the necessary discipline on board of the east india ships. the greater the disproportion between the unit who commands and the numbers who obey, the greater the chance of mutiny. sedition is the progeny of assembly. even where grievances may be real, if there is no contact and no discussion, there will be no insubordination; but imaginary grievances, canvassed and discussed in assembly, swell into disaffection and mutiny. when, therefore, numbers are collected together, as in the vessels of the east india service, martial law becomes indispensable; and the proof of it is, that the commanders of these vessels have been forced to exercise it upon their own responsibility. a letter of marque should be granted to all vessels carrying a certain number of men, empowering the commanders, under certain sureties and penalties, to exercise this power. it would be a boon to the east india ships, and ultimately a benefit to the navy. to proceed. the merchant ships of the company are men-of-war; the men-of-war of the company are--what shall i call them? by their right names--they are all _bombay marine_: but let me at once assert, in applying their own name to them as a reproach, that the officers commanding them are not included in the stigma. i have served with them, and have pleasure in stating that, taking the average, the vessels are as well officered as those in our own service; but let us describe the vessels and their crews. most of the vessels are smaller in scantling than the run down (and constantly _going down_) ten-gun brigs in our own service, built for a light draft of water (as they were originally intended to act against the pirates, which occasionally infest the indian seas), and unfit to contend with anything like a heavy sea. many of them are pierced for, and actually carry fourteen to sixteen guns; but, as effective fighting vessels, ought not to have been pierced for more than eight. i have no hesitation in asserting that an english cutter is a match for any of them, and a french privateer has, before now, proved that she was superior. the crews are composed of a small proportion of english seamen, a small proportion of portuguese sea-cunnies, a proportion of lascars, and a proportion of hindoo bombay marines. it requires two or three languages to carry on the duty; customs, religions, provisions, all different, and all living and messing separate. how is it possible that any officer can discipline a ship's company of this incongruous description, so as to make them "pull together"? in short, the vessels and the crews are equally contemptible, and the officers, in cases of difficulty, must be sacrificed to the pride and meanness of the company. my reason for taking notice of the "bombay marine" arises from an order lately promulgated, in which the officers of this service were to take rank and precedence with those of the navy. now, as far as the officers themselves are concerned, so far from having any objection to it, i wish, for their own merits and the good-will that i bear them, that they were incorporated into our navy-list; but as long as they command vessels of the above description, in the event of a war, i will put a case, to prove the absurdity and danger which may result. there is not one vessel at this present time in their service which would not be sunk by one well-directed broadside from a large frigate; yet, as many of their officers are of long standing, it is very probable that a squadron of english frigates may fall in with one of these vessels, the captain of which would be authorised by his seniority to take the command of the whole of them. we will suppose that this squadron falls in with the enemy, of equal or superior force; can the officer in command lead on to the attack? if so, he will be sent down by the first broadside. if he does not, from whom are the orders to proceed during the action? the consequences would be as injurious as the arrangement is ridiculous. the charter of the east india company will soon expire; and if it is to be renewed, the country ought to have some indemnification for the three millions which this colony or conquest (which you please) annually draws from it. now there is one point which deserves consideration: the constitutional protection of all property is by the nation, and as a naval force is required in india, that force should be supplied by the armaments of the nation, at the expense of the company. i have already proved that the bombay marine is a useless and incompetent service: let it be abolished altogether, and men-of-war be sent out to supply their place. it is most important that our navy should be employed in time of peace, and our officers gain that practical knowledge without which the theoretical is useless. were this insisted upon, a considerable force would be actively employed, at no expense to the country, and many officers become valuable, who now are remaining inactive, and forgetting what previous knowledge they may have acquired of their nautical duties. at the same time, every east india ship should be compelled to take on board her whole complement of english seamen, and not be half manned by lascars and chinamen. but i presume i must be careful how i attempt to legislate for that country, or i shall have two tame elephants sent after me by the man _what_ puts his hair in papers! chapter xlii "what singular emotions fill their bosoms, who have been induced to roam, with flattering doubts, if all be well or ill, with love for many, and with fears for some!" byron. the china fleet arrived without encountering any further danger; the commodore and commanders of the several ships composing the fleet received that praise from their countrymen to which their conduct had so fully entitled them. as soon as the _bombay castle_ had entered the basin of the east india docks, newton requested, and easily obtained, permission to leave the ship. he immediately directed his steps to greenwich, that he might ascertain if his father was in existence; for he had received no letters since his departure, although he had taken several opportunities to write. it is true that he had not expected any; he knew that his father was too absent ever to think about writing to him, and his uncle much too busy to throw away any portion of his time in unnecessary correspondence. when we approach the dwelling containing, or supposed to contain, an object of solicitude, of whose existence we are uncertain, what a thrill of anxiety pervades the frame! how quickened is the throbbing of the heart! how checked the respiration! thus it was with newton forster as he raised his hand to the latch of the door. he opened it, and the first object which delighted his eyes was his father seated upon a high stool smoking his pipe, in the company of two veterans of the hospital, who had brought their old bones to an anchor upon a large trunk. they were in earnest conversation, and did not perceive the company of newton, who waited a little while, holding the door ajar, as he contemplated the group. one of the pensioners was speaking, and continued:--"may be, or may not be, mr forster, that's _dubersome_; but if so be as how he is alive, why you'll see him soon, that's sartain--take my word for it. a good son, as you say he was, as soon as he can get over the side of the ship, always bears up for his parent's house. with the help of your barnacles, i worked my way clean through the whole yarn, and i seed the report of killed and wounded; and i'll take my affidavy that there warn't an officer in the fleet as lost the number of his mess in that action, and a most clipping affair it was; only think of mounseer turning tail to marchant vessels! damn my old buttons! what will our jolly fellows do next?" "next, bill! why there be nothing to do, 'less they shave off the beard of the grand turk to make a swab for the cabin of the king's yacht, and sarve out his seven hundred wives amongst the fleet. i say, i wonder how he keeps so many of them craft in good order?" "i knows," replied the other, "for i axed the very question when i was up the dardanelles. there be a black fellow, a _unique_ they calls him, with a large sword and a bag of sawdust, as always stands sentry at the door, and if so be a woman kicks up a bobbery, why plump her head goes into the bag." "well, that's one way to make a good woman on her; but as i was saying, mr forster, you mustn't be down in the mouth; a seaman as knows his duty, never cares for leave till all the work be done. i'd bet a yard of pigtail that mr newton--" "is here, my good fellow!" interrupted newton. "my dear father!" nicholas sprang off his seat and embraced his son. "my dear, dear boy! why did you not come to me before? i was afraid that you had been killed. well, i'm glad to see you, newton. how did you like the west indies?" "the east hinges, you mean, mr forster.--newton," continued the old pensioner, wiping both sides of his hand upon his blue breeches, and then extending it--"tip us your daddle, my lad; i like to touch the flipper of one who has helped to shame the enemy; and it will be no disgrace for you to grapple with an old seaman, who did his duty as long as he had a pin to stand upon." "with pleasure, my friend," replied newton, taking the old man's hand, while the other veteran seized the one unoccupied, and, surveying newton from top to toe, observed, "if your ship be manned with all such lads as you--why, she be damned well manned, that's all." newton laughed and turned to his father. "well, father, how are you?--have you been quite well? and how do you like your berth here?" "why, newton, i get on much better than i did at bristol." "it be liverpool he mean, mr newton; but your good father be a little damaged in his upper works; his memory box is like a sieve.--come, bill, we be two too many. when father and son meet after a india voyage, there be much to say as wants no listeners.--good-bye, mr forster; may you never want a son, and may he never want a ship!" newton smiled his thanks to the considerate old pensioners, as they stumped out of the door, and left him alone with his father. the communications of nicholas were as concise as usual. he liked his situation, liked his company, had as much work as he wished for, and had enjoyed good health. when newton entered upon pecuniary matters, which he was the sooner induced to do by observing that his father's coat and smallclothes were in a most ruinous condition, he discovered, that although the old gentleman had provided himself with money from the bankers, during the first year, to purchase a new suit of clothes, latterly he not only had quite forgotten that there were funds at his disposal, but even that he had procured the clothes, which had remained in the chest from the day they had been sent home without having been tried on. "dear me! now i recollect, so i did; and i put them upstairs somewhere. i was busy at the time with my improvement on the duplex." "have you seen much of my uncle, sir?" inquired newton. "your uncle!--dear me, no! i don't know where he lives; so i waited until you came back. we'll go tomorrow, newton, or he may think me unkind. i'll see if his watch goes well; i recollect he said it did. but, newton, tell me all about your voyage, and the action with the french ships." newton entered into a detail, during which he perceived by his father's questions that his memory had become more impaired, and that he was more absent than ever. he arranged to call upon his uncle the ensuing day; and then it was his intention, without communicating it to his father, to make every inquiry and advertise to ascertain the fate of his mother. this was a duty which he had long wished to repeat; but his necessities and want of time had hitherto precluded the renewal of the task. early the next morning, newton and his father went up to london by the greenwich coach; and a walk of a few minutes after they were put down brought them to the chambers of mr john forster. "how do you do, mr scratton? is my uncle at home?" inquired newton. mr scratton immediately recognised him, and very graciously replied, that his uncle was at home and would be very glad to see him, having talked very often of him lately. newton and his father were ushered into the parlour, where he found his uncle precisely in the same position as when he last saw him;--it would almost have appeared that he had not quitted his seat during newton's tedious voyage. "nephew," said mr john forster, without rising from his chair, "i am very glad to see you.--brother nicholas, i am very glad to see you too.--chairs, scratton," continued the old lawyer, taking his watch off the table, and placing it in his fob. "well, nephew, i am very glad to hear such good accounts of you. i saw mr bosanquet yesterday, and he told me that you had for your good conduct been promoted to the rank of second mate." "it is more than i am aware of," replied newton, much pleased with the information. "i am much obliged to you for the intelligence, as i am for your many other acts of kindness." "well, so you ought to be; it's no bad thing, as i told you before, to find out an uncle. by-the-bye, there has been some alteration in my establishment since we parted, nephew. i have a house in lincoln's inn fields, and a spare bed, if you will accept of it. we dine at six; brother nicholas, i shall be very happy to see you, if you can stay. it will be too late to go home after dinner, but you can share my nephew's bed." "i shall be most happy to accept your kind offer for a few days, sir, if it does not incommode you," replied newton. "no; you will not incommode me _there_, but you do very much _here_, where i am always busy. so good-bye, my boy; i shall be at home at six. brother nicholas, you did not vouchsafe me an answer." "about what, brother john?" replied nicholas, who had been "in the clouds." "oh, i'll tell you all about it, father," said newton, laughing. "come away now--my uncle is busy." and nicholas rose up, with the observation-- "brother john, you appear to me to read a great deal." "yes, i do, brother." "how much do you read a day?" "i really cannot say; much depends upon whether i am interrupted or not." "it must be very bad for your eyes, brother john." "it certainly does not improve them," replied the lawyer, impatiently. "come, father, my uncle is very busy," said newton, touching nicholas on the arm. "well, good-bye, brother john. i had something to say--oh! i hope you are not displeased at my not coming to see you before?" "humph! not in the least, i can assure you, brother nicholas; so good-bye. newton, you'll bring him with you at six," said mr john forster; and he resumed his brief before they had quitted the room. newton was much surprised to hear that his uncle had taken a house, and he surmised whether he had not also been induced to take a wife. he felt an inclination to put the question to mr scratton, as he passed through the office; but checked the wish, lest it should appear like prying into his uncle's affairs. being the month of february, it was dark long before six o'clock, and newton was puzzled what to do with his father until that time. he returned to the salopian coffee-house, opposite to which they had been put down by the greenwich coach; and taking possession of a box, called for some biscuits and a pint of sherry; and requesting his father to stay there until his return, went out to purchase a sextant, and some other nautical luxuries, which his pay enabled him to procure without trespassing upon the funds supplied by the generosity of his uncle. he then returned to his father, who had finished the wine and biscuits, and had his eyes fixed upon the ceiling of the room; and calling a hackney coach, drove to the direction which his uncle had pointed out as his residence. mr john forster had already come home, and they found him in the dining-room, decanting the wine for dinner, with amber by his side. newton was surprised at the appearance of a little girl; and, as he took her proffered hand, inquired her name. "amber. papa says it's a very foolish name; don't you, papa?" "yes, my dear, i do; but now we are going to dinner, and you must go to mrs smith: so good-night." amber kissed the old lawyer, as he stooped to her; and wishing the company good-night, she left the room. "brother john," said nicholas, "i really had no idea that you were a married man." "humph! i am not a married man, brother." "then pray, brother, how is it possible for that little girl to be your daughter?" "i did not say she was my daughter: but now we will go upstairs into the drawing-room, while they put the dinner on the table." the dinner was soon announced; the cookery was plain, but good, the wine excellent. when the dessert was placed on the table, mr john forster rose, and taking two bottles of port-wine from the side-board, placed them on the table, and addressed newton. "nephew, i have no time to _sip_ wine, although it is necessary that i drink it. now, we must drink fast, as i have only ten minutes to spare; not that i wish you to drink more than you like, but i must push the bottle round, whether you fill or no, as i have an appointment, what we call a consultation, at my chambers. pass the bottle, brother," continued the lawyer, helping himself, and shoving the decanter to nicholas. nicholas, who had been little accustomed to wine, obeyed mechanically, swallowing down each glass _à gorge déployée_, as he was awoke from his meditations by the return of the bottle, and then filling up his glass again. newton, who could take his allowance as well as most people, could not, however, venture to drink glass for glass with his uncle, and the bottle was passed several times without his filling. when the ten minutes had elapsed, mr john forster took his watch from the table, replaced it in his fob, and rose from his chair. locking up the remainder of the wine, he quitted the house without apology, leaving his guests to entertain themselves, and order tea when they felt inclined. "my brother seems to be very busy, newton," observed nicholas. "what wine was that we have been drinking? it was very strong; i declare my head turns round;" and in a few moments more nicholas dropped his head upon the table, and was fast asleep. newton, who perceived that his father was affected by the wine which he had been drinking, which was, in the sum total, a pint of sherry at the coffee-house before dinner, and at least a bottle during and after his meal, thought it better that he should be allowed to take his nap. he therefore put out the candles, and went up into the drawing-room, where he amused himself with a book until the clock struck twelve. according to the regulations of the house, the servants had retired to bed, leaving a light in the passage for their master on his return, which sometimes was at a very late hour, or rather, it should be said, at a very early one. newton lighted a chamber-candlestick, and went down into the parlour to rouse his father; but all his attempts were in vain. the wine had taken such an effect upon him, that he was in a state of lethargy. newton observed that the servant had cleared the table, and that the fire was out: and, as there was no help for it, he removed the chairs to the end of the room, that his father might not tumble over them if he awoke in the dark, and then retired to his own bed. chapter xliii "angels and ministers of grace defend us! be thy intents wicked or charitable, thou com'st in such a questionable shape that i will speak to thee." shakespeare. it was past two o'clock when mr john forster returned from his chambers, and let himself in with a pass-key. having secured the street-door, the old gentleman lighted his candle from the lamp, which he then blew out, and had his foot upon the first step of the stairs, when he was startled by a loud snore from nicholas in the dining-room; he immediately proceeded there, and found his brother, with his head still lying on the table. "humph!" ejaculated the lawyer. "why, brother nicholas! brother nicholas!" nicholas, who had nearly slept off the effects of the wine, answered with an unintelligible sort of growling. "brother nicholas, i say,--brother nicholas,--will you get up, or lie here all night?" "they shall be cleaned and ready by to-morrow morning," replied nicholas, dreaming. "humph! that's more than you will be, apparently,--i say, brother nicholas." "yes, brother," replied nicholas, raising his head and staring at the candle. "why, what's the matter?" "the matter is, that i wish to go to bed, and wish to see you in bed before i go myself." "yes, brother john, if you please, certainly. where's my bed? i do believe i have been asleep." "humph! i have no doubt upon the subject," replied john forster, lighting another candle. "come this way, brother nicholas," and they both ascended the stairs. when mr john forster arrived at the door of his own room, on the first storey, he stopped. "now, brother nicholas, are you quite awake? do you think that i may trust you with the candle?" "i should hope so," replied nicholas; "i see that it is silver, but i hope i'm honest, brother john." "humph! i mean, can i trust you to put it out?" "yes, i think that you may. pray, which is my room?" "the first door on the left, when you are at the top of the stairs." "the first door." "yes, the first on the left; do you understand?" "yes, brother, i do; the first door on the left." "very well; then i wish you a good-night." "good-night, brother," replied nicholas, ascending the stairs as john forster entered his room. nicholas arrived at the head of the stairs; but his brain was not very clear. he muttered to himself "i think i'm right--yes, i'm right--the first door--to the right--yes--that's it;" and instead of the room to the left, where newton was, he walked into the one to the right, which appertained to the housekeeper, mrs smith. the old lady was fast asleep. nicholas threw off his clothes, put out his candle, and stepped into bed without waking the old lady, whom he supposed to be his son, and in a few minutes they snored in concert. the morning dawned. the watchmen (london nightingales) ceased their notes and retired to their beds. the chimney-sweeps (larks of the metropolis) raised their shrill cry as they paced along with chattering teeth. housemaids and kitchen-maids presented their back views to the early passengers as they washed off the accumulation of the previous day from the steps of the front-door. "milk below" (certainly much below "proof") was answered by the ascent of the busy cooks, when a knock at the door of mrs smith's room from the red knuckles of the housemaid, awoke her to a sense of her equivocal situation. at her first discovery that a man was in her bed, she uttered a scream of horror, throwing herself upon her knees, and extending her hands before her in her amazement. the scream awoke nicholas, who, astonished at the sight, and his modesty equally outraged, also threw himself in the same posture, facing her, and recoiling. each looked aghast at each: each considered the other as the lawless invader; but before a word of explanation could pass between them, their countenances changed from horror to surprise, from surprise to anxiety and doubt. "why!" screamed the housekeeper, losing her breath with astonishment. "it is!" cried nicholas, retreating further. "yes--yes--it is--my _dear_ nicholas!" "no--it can't be," replied nicholas, hearing the fond appellation. "it is--oh! yes--it is your poor unhappy wife, who begs your pardon, nicholas," cried the housekeeper, bursting into tears, and falling into his arms. "my dear--dear wife!" exclaimed nicholas, as he threw his arms around her, and each sobbed upon the other's shoulder. in this position they remained a minute, when mr john forster, who heard the scream and subsequent exclamations, and had taken it for granted that his brother had been guilty of some _contretemps_, first wiped the remaining lather from his half-shaved chin, and then ascended to the housekeeper's room, from whence the noise had proceeded. when he opened the door, he found them in the position we have described, both kneeling in the centre of the bed embracing and sobbing. they were so wrapt in each other, that they did not perceive his entrance. mr john forster stared with amazement for a few seconds, and thus growled out:-- "why, what are you two old fools about?" "it's my husband, sir,"--"it's my wife, brother john," cried they, both at once, as the tears coursed down their cheeks. "humph!" ejaculated the lawyer, and he quitted the room. we must let the reader imagine the various explanations which took place between nicholas and his truly reformed wife, newton and his uncle, amber, and everybody in the household, while we narrate the events which had brought about this singular _dénouement_. the reader may recollect that we left mrs forster in the lunatic asylum, slowly recovering from an attack of brain-fever, which had been attended with a relapse. for many weeks she continued in a state of great feebleness, and during that time, when in the garden, in company with other denizens of this melancholy abode (wishing to be usefully employed), she greatly assisted the keepers in restraining them, and, in a short time, established that superiority over them which is invariably the result of a sane intellect. this was soon perceived by doctor beddington, who (aware of her destitute condition) offered her a situation as nurse in the establishment, until the inspecting magistrates should make their appearance, with the promise that she might continue in it afterwards, if she thought proper. this proposal was accepted by mrs forster, until she might resolve what course to take, and she soon became a most invaluable person in the establishment, effecting more by lenient and kind treatment than the keepers were able to do by their violence. so completely changed was mrs forster in disposition, that so far from feeling any resentment against those who had been the means of her confinement, she acknowledged to herself that her own conduct had been the occasion of her misfortune, and that those who had contributed to open her eyes to her former insanity, were her best friends. she was humbled, and unhappy; but she kissed the rod. all that she now wished was to find out her husband, and by her future conduct to make reparation for the past. one of the gaolers, at her request, made every inquiry as to the part of england to which nicholas had removed; but it was without success. all trace was lost; and mrs forster accepted the situation of nurse, until she might be enabled to prosecute her search, or obtain the intelligence which she desired. for nine months mrs forster remained on the establishment, during which time she had saved a sum of money sufficient for her support and travelling expenses. she then resolved to search after her husband, whose pardon for her previous conduct seemed to be the _sine qua non_ for which she continued to exist. she took leave of the doctor; and, strange to say, it was with feelings of regret that she quitted an abode, once the source of horror and disgust: but time reconciles us to everything, and she made a half promise to dr beddington, that if she could not hear any tidings of her husband, or should discover that he was no more, she would return to the situation. mrs forster directed her course to london; why, or wherefore, she hardly knew; but she had imbibed the idea that the metropolis was the most likely place to meet with him. her first inquiries were about any families of the name of forster; but the directory gave such an enormous list of forsters, of all trades and callings, and in every situation in life, that she closed it with despair. she had a faint recollection that her husband (who was never very communicative, and least of all to her) had stated that he had a brother alive somewhere; but this was all that she knew. nevertheless, she set about her task in good earnest, and called upon every one of the name in the middling classes of life, to ascertain if they were relations of her husband. there were many in high life whose names and addresses she had obtained from the red-book; but to them she dared not apply. all she could do was to question the servants; but every answer was unsatisfactory; and mrs forster, whose money was nearly expended, had serious thoughts of returning to the lunatic establishment, when the advertisement in the newspapers, of mr scratton, for a housekeeper, which mr john forster had desired him to procure, met her eye. unwilling to leave london, she applied for, and obtained the situation, having received an excellent character from doctor beddington, to whom she had written and explained her views. her heart leapt when she discovered that her master's name was forster: and when she first saw him she could not but persuade herself that there was a family likeness. the germs of hope were, however, soon withered, when amber, in answer to her inquiries, stated that mr forster had a brother lately dead, who had never been married, and that she never heard of his having another. her fellow-servants were all as strange as herself, and mrs forster (who had assumed the name of smith) was obliged to have recourse to that patience and resignation which had been so severely inculcated. the charge of amber soon proved a source of delight; the control which she had over the household a source of gratification (not, as before, for the pleasure of domineering, but for the sake of exercising kindness and forbearance), and mrs forster was happy and resigned. it may be surmised as strange, that during the period which she remained in this capacity, she had never heard mention of her husband or her son; but it must be remembered that nicholas had never called upon his brother, and that newton was in the east indies; and, moreover, that mr john forster was just as little inclined to be communicative as her husband. indeed, he never came in contact with his housekeeper, except to pay the bills, which was regularly once a month, when he called her down after dinner, and after the accounts were settled, offered her a glass of wine, as a proof of his being satisfied with her conduct. when newton and his father arrived at the chambers on the day before the discovery, and were invited to dinner, his note of communication was as laconic as usual. "mrs smith,--i have invited two gentlemen to dine with me to-day, six precisely. "john forster." "p.s.--let the spare bed be ready." mrs forster prepared everything as directed; and having done her duties below, retired to her room, where she usually sat with amber. she did not therefore see the parties when they entered; and amber, who had run down to meet her protector, heard nothing during her short stay in the room, to suppose that they were relatives of mr john forster. all that she had to communicate was, that the parties were an elderly gentleman and a very handsome young man. yet even this simple communication caused the pulse of mrs forster to accelerate. they might be her husband and her son. it was the first time that the spare bed had been ordered. reflection, however, convinced her that her hopes were strung upon too slight a thread; and, musing on the improbability of not having ascertained during a year the fact of her master having so near a relative--moreover, her son was not in existence--she sighed, and dismissed the idea as ridiculous. before the gentlemen had finished their wine, amber was in bed, and mrs forster invariably sat at the side of it until her own hour of repose had arrived. a certain indefinable curiosity still remained lurking; yet, as she could not gratify it without intrusion (if the strangers were still up), she retired to bed, with the reflection that all her doubts would be relieved in the morning; and, after lying awake for some hours in a state of suspense, she at last fell into that sound sleep which is usually produced by previous excitement. how she was awakened from it, the reader has been already informed. "it's rather awkward, newton," said mr john forster, about ten days afterwards. "i cannot do without your mother, that's certain; but what am i to do with your father? humph! well, she must take charge of him as well as amber. she must teach him--" "teach him what, sir?" replied newton, laughing. "teach him what? why, to leave my watch and spectacles alone. i dare not lay them down for a moment." "i think we may teach him that, sir, if it is all that you require." "i ask no more: then he may go about the house like a tame rabbit. when will your ship be ready, boy?" "in about a fortnight, sir. i called upon captain oughton the day before yesterday, but he was not at home. his steward gave me the information." "what is the name of the ship?" "the _windsor castle_, sir." "why, all the india ships appear to be called castles. your last ship was the _bombay castle_, i think?" "yes, sir: there are a great many of them so named--they really are floating castles." "and full of ladies. you 'castle your queens,' as they do at chess. humph!" a pun from mr john forster was a rarity: he never had been known to make one before: and newton asserts that he never heard him guilty of it afterwards. it deserves, therefore, bad as it was, to be recorded. chapter xliv "----but to stick to my route 'twill be hard, if some novelty can't be struck out. is there no algerine, no kamschatkan arrived? no plenipo-pacha, three-tail'd and three wived? no russian, whose dissonant, consonant name almost rattles to fragments the trumpet of fame? postscript. by-the-bye, have you found any friend who can construe that latin account, t'other day, of a monster? if we can't get a russian--and that story in latin be not _too_ improper, i think i'll bring that in." moore. a few mornings after this colloquy with his uncle, newton was very busy perambulating the streets of london, in search of various requisites for his trip to india, when his hand was seized before he had time to call to mind the features of the party who shook it with such apparent warmth. "my dear mr forster, i am so delighted to see you, so happy to hear of your gallant adventure with the french squadron. mrs plausible will be quite pleased at meeting her old shipmate; she often talks about you. i must make sure of you," continued the doctor, drawing from his pocket a large packet of cards, and inserting at the top of one newton forster's name with his pencil. "this is an invitation to our _conversazione_ of to-morrow night, which you must do us the honour to accept. we shall have all the scientific men of the day, and a very pretty sprinkling of nobility, if not something more. however, you will see. shall i tell mrs plausible that you will come, or will you disappoint her?" "why," replied newton, "if i possibly can i will. i presume the hour is not very precise?" "o no, from nine until two or three; but if you wish to see great people, about eleven is the exact time." "well, then," replied newton, "the time which suits great people also suits me. i hope mrs plausible is quite well." "quite well, i thank you. good-bye;" and dr plausible hurried off so quickly, that newton was induced to look after him, to ascertain what could induce such precipitation. he perceived dr plausible shaking hands warmly with another gentleman, and after a few seconds the packet of cards was again pulled out of his pocket, and the pencil in requisition. it will be necessary to go back a little, to acquaint the reader with what had occurred since the acceptation of dr plausible by miss tavistock, when they were on board of the _bombay castle_. on their arrival at madras, miss tavistock's early and dearest friend, who resided in the up-country, had commissioned an acquaintance to receive miss tavistock until they could make arrangements for her journey to the interior. by this female acquaintance miss tavistock was kindly welcomed, and received into her house; but miss tavistock's prospects having altered, so had all her devoted attachment to the friend of her early years. she wrote, announcing her intended change of condition, and regretting that dr plausible's affairs, requiring his immediate presence in england, would prevent her having the delight of embracing one, who was so entwined round her heart. the letter was nevertheless very cold, and miss tavistock was very much abused by her dearest friend, who, disappointed in her expectations, did not even condescend an answer. in a week miss tavistock was united to dr plausible; and in less than a fortnight afterwards they were on their passage home. dr plausible found that his wife's report of her circumstances was correct, and that now he had the means of keeping his carriage and of seeing company, in moderation. shortly after their return, dr plausible took the lease of a house in a betwixt and between fashionable street, and not wishing to remain idle, attempted to get into practice as an accoucheur; for although the fortune brought by his wife was considerable, still, to keep his carriage in london, he was obliged "to sail nearer to the wind" in other points than he found agreeable: moreover he was ambitious. a night-bell, with "night-bell" in capital letters over it, that people might be aware in the broad day that it was a night-bell, which of course they could not read in the dark, was attached to one side of the street door. it was as loud as an alarum-bell, and when rung, was to be heard from no. to no. , in the street where dr plausible resided. there are little secrets in all trades; and one is, how to obtain practice as a medical man, which whole mystery consists in making people believe that you have a great deal. when this is credited, practice immediately follows; and dr plausible was aware of the fact. at first setting off, his carriage drew up to the door occasionally, and stood there for some time, when the doctor made his appearance, and stepped in. he then took a round of about three hours through every fashionable part of the town, sitting well forward, that everybody might see him, apparently examining his visiting-book. at times he would pull up at some distinguished person's door, when there were two or three carriages before him, and getting out, would go in to the porter to ask some frivolous question. another _ruse_ was, to hammer at some titled mansion, and inquire for another titled person, by mistake. this occupied the morning; after which doctor plausible returned home. during the first month the night-bell was rung two or three times a week by the watchman, who was fee'd for his trouble; but after that period it increased its duties, until it was in motion once, if not twice, every night, and his disturbed neighbours wished doctor plausible and his extensive practice at the devil. the carriage also was now rattled to the door in a hurry, and doctor plausible was seen to enter it with his case of instruments, and drive off with rapidity, sometimes twice a day. in the meantime, mrs plausible did her part, as she extended her acquaintance with her neighbours. she constantly railed against a medical husband; declared that doctor plausible was never at home, and it was impossible to say at what hour they might dine. the tables also were strewed with the cards of great and fashionable people, obtained by doctor plausible from a celebrated engraver's shop, by a douceur to the shopman, when the master was absent. at last, doctor plausible's instruments were used in good earnest; and, although not known or even heard of in the fashionable world, he was sent for by the would-be-fashionables, because they imagined that he was employed by their betters. now it so happened that in the same street there lived another medical man, almost a prototype of doctor plausible, only not quite so well off in the world. his name was doctor feasible. his practice was not extensive, and he was encumbered with a wife and large family. he also very naturally wished to extend his practice and his reputation; and, after many fruitless attempts, he at last hit upon a scheme which he thought promised to be successful. "my dear," said he, one morning to his wife, "i am thinking of getting up a _conversazione_." "a _conversazione_, my love!--why, is not that a very expensive affair?" "why, not very. but if it brings me practice, it will be money well laid out." "yes, my love, if it does, and if we had the money to lay out." "something must be done. i have hardly a patient left. i have an idea that it will succeed. go, my dear, and make up this prescription, and let the boy take it to mrs bluestone's. i wish i had a couple of dozen patients like her. i write her prescription, take my fee, and then, that i may be sure that it is properly made up, i volunteer to take it to the chemist's myself." "pray, what is the complaint of mrs bluestone, my love?" "nothing; she over-eats herself--that's all. abernethy would cure her in twenty-four hours." "well, but, my love, about this _conversazione_?" "go and make up the prescription, my dear, and we'll talk the matter over afterwards." they did so. a list of the people they were acquainted with was drawn out, the expense calculated, and the affair settled. the first point to be considered was the size of the cards. "these, my love," said mrs feasible, who came in from a long walk, with her bonnet still on, "these are three shillings and sixpence a hundred; and these, which are a size larger, are four-and-sixpence. which do you think we ought to have?" "why, really, my dear, when one sends out so many, i do not see why we should incur unnecessary expense. the three-and-sixpenny ones are quite large enough." "and the engraving will be fourteen shillings." "well, that will only be a first expense. _conversazione_ in old english, of course." "and here, my love, are the ribbons for the maids' caps and sashes; i bought them at waterloo house, very cheap, and a very pretty candle-light colour." "did you speak to them about their gowns?" "yes, my love; sally and peggy have each a white gown, betty i can lend one of my own." the difference between a _conversazione_ and a rout is simply this:--in the former you are expected to talk or listen, but to be too ethereal to eat. in the latter, to be squeezed in a crowd, and eat ices, &c., to cool yourselves. a _conversazione_ has, therefore, a great advantage over the latter, as far as the pocket is concerned, it being much cheaper to procure food for the mind than food for the body. it would appear that tea has been as completely established the beverage of modern scientific men, as nectar was formerly that of the gods. the athenæum gives tea; and i observed in a late newspaper, that lord g---- has promised tea to the geographical society. had his lordship been aware that there was a beverage invented on board ship much more appropriate to the science over which he presides than tea, i feel convinced he would have substituted it immediately; and i therefore take this opportunity of informing him that sailors have long made use of a compound which actually goes by the name of _geo-graffy_, which is only a trifling corruption of the name of the science, arising from their habit of laying the accent upon the penultimate. i will now give his lordship the receipt, which is most simple. take a tin pot, go to the scuttle-butt (having obtained permission from the quarter-deck), and draw off about half a pint of very offensive-smelling water. to this add a gill of vinegar and a ship's buscuit broken up into small pieces. stir it well up with the fore-finger; and then, with the fore-finger and thumb, you may pull out the pieces of buscuit, and eat them as fast as you please, drinking the liquor to wash all down. now this would be the very composition to hand round to the geographical society. it is not christened geography without a reason; the vinegar and water representing the green sea, and the pieces of buscuit floating in it the continents and islands which are washed by it. now, my lord, do not you thank me for my communication? but we must return to the _conversazione_ of doctor and mrs feasible. the company arrived. there was rap after rap. the whole street was astounded with the noise of the wheels and the rattling of the iron steps of the hackney-coaches. doctor feasible had procured some portfolios of prints; some indian idols from a shop in wardour street, duly labelled and christened, and several other odds and ends to create matter of conversation. the company consisted of several medical gentlemen and their wives, the great mr b----, and the facetious mr c----. there were ten or twelve authors, or gentlemen suspected of authorship, fourteen or fifteen chemists, all scientific of course, one colonel, half-a-dozen captains, and to crown all, a city knight and his lady, besides their general acquaintance, unscientific and unprofessional. for a beginning this was very well; and the company departed very hungry, but highly delighted with their evening's entertainment. "what can all that noise be about?" said mrs plausible to her husband, who was sitting with her in the drawing-room, reading the _lancet_, while she knotted, or _did not_. "i am sure i cannot tell, mrs plausible." "there, again! i'm sure if i have heard one, i have heard thirty raps at a door within this quarter of an hour. i'm determined i will know what it is," continued mrs plausible, getting up, and ringing the bell. "thomas, do you know what all that noise is about?" said mrs plausible, when the servant answered the bell. "no, ma'am, i doesn't." "well, then, go and see." "yes, ma'am." the impatience of mrs plausible, during the absence of thomas, increased with the repetition of the knocks. "well, thomas?" said she, as the footman entered. "if you please, ma'am, mr feasible has got a conwersation--that's all." "got a what?" "a _conversazione_ he means, my dear. it's very strange that doctor feasible should pretend to give such a thing!" "i think so too," replied the lady. "he keeps no carriage. what can be his inducement?" "i perceive," replied dr plausible, "he wants to get practice. depend upon it, that's his plan. a sprat to catch mackerel!" husband and wife were again silent, and resumed their occupations; but the _lancet_ was not read, and the knotting was all in knots, for they were both in a brown study. at last, mrs plausible commenced:-- "i really do not see, my dear, why we should not give a _conversazione_ as well as doctor feasible." "i was just thinking that we could give them much better; our acquaintance now is very numerous." "and very respectable," replied the lady; "it will make us more known in the world." "and add to my practice. i'll soon beat doctor feasible out of the field!" the result of this conversation was a _conversazione_, which certainly was on a much better scale, and better attended than the one collected by doctor feasible. doctor plausible had pumped a mutual acquaintance as to the merits of his rival, and had set to work with great diligence. he ordered his carriage, and for two or three days previous to the one fixed, went round to all his friends who had curiosities, foreign, indigenous, or continental, admired them, talked learnedly, expressed a wish to exhibit them to several gentlemen of talent at his next _conversazione_, pulled out a card for the party, and succeeded in returning home with his carriage stuffed with curiosities and monstrosities. negus and cherry-water were added to tea in the refreshment-room; and the _conversazione_ of doctor plausible was pronounced by those who had been invited to both, infinitely superior to that of doctor feasible. a good-natured friend called upon doctor and mrs feasible with the news. they pretended indifference, as they bit their lips to conceal their vexation. as soon as he took his leave-- "well, my dear," said mrs feasible, "what do you think of this? very unhandsome on the part of doctor plausible! i was told this morning that several of our acquaintances have expressed a wish to be introduced to him." "we must not give up the point, my love. doctor plausible may make a splash once; but i suspect that his horses eat him out of house and home, and interfere very much with the butcher's bills. if so, we who keep no carriage can afford it better. but it's very annoying, as there will be an increase of expense." "very annoying, indeed!" replied the lady. "look at his card, my dear, it is nearly twice as large as ours. i begged it of mr tomkins, on purpose to compare it." "well, then, my dear, we must order others, and mind that they measure an inch more than his. it shall cost him something before we have done, i'm determined." "you heard what mr smithson said? they gave negus and cherry-water." "we must do the same. i've a great mind to give ices." "oh! my love, remember the expense." "very true; but we can ice our negus and cherry-water. rough ice is only twopence a pound, i believe." "well, that will be an improvement." "and there shall be more, or i'll be in the bench," replied the doctor, in his wrath. the next _conversazione_ for which cards were issued by doctor feasible, was on a superior scale. there was a considerable increase of company. he had persuaded a country baronet; secured the patronage of two ladies of rank (with a slight blot on their escutcheons), and collected, amongst others, a french count (or adventurer), a baron with mustachios, two german students in their costumes and long hair, and an actress of some reputation. he had also procured the head of a new zealand chief; some red snow, or rather, red water (for it was melted), brought home by captain ross; a piece of granite from the croker mountains; a kitten in spirits, with two heads and twelve legs; and half-a-dozen abortions of the feathered or creeping tribes. everything went off well. the two last fees he had received were sacrificed to have the party announced in the _morning post_, and doctor feasible's triumph was complete. but it was not to last long. in ten days dr plausible's cards were again issued, larger than dr feasible's, and with a handsome embossed border of lilies and roses. male attendants, tea and coffee, ices and liqueurs were prepared; and dr feasible's heart failed him, when he witnessed the ingress and egress of the pastrycooks, with their boxes on their heads. among his company he had already mustered up five celebrated blues; four ladies of quality, of better reputation than dr feasible's; seven or eight baronets and knights; a bishop of fernando po; three or four general officers; and a dozen french and german visitors to the country, who had not only titles, but wore orders at their button-holes. thus far had he advanced, when he met newton forster, and added him to the list of the invited. in about two hours afterwards, dr plausible returned home to his wife, radiant with smiles. "my dear, who _do_ you think has promised to come to-morrow night?" "who, my love?" "prince fizzybelli!" "you don't say so?" screamed the lady with her delight. "yes, most faithfully promised." "what _will_ the feasibles say?" cried the lady;--"but--is he a real prince?" "a real prince! o yes, indeed is he! well known in tartary." "well, dr plausible, i have good news for you. here is a note from mr h----, in answer to yours, in which he promises you the loan of the wax figure from germany, of a female in the first stage of par--partu--i can't make out the word." "excellent! most excellent!" cried the doctor, rubbing his hand; "now we _shall_ do." newton, who had some curiosity to see a _conversazione_, which to him was a _terra incognita_, did not fail to go at the appointed hour. he was ushered upstairs into the drawing-room, at the door of which he was received by mrs plausible, in blue and silver. the rooms not being very large, were extremely crowded, and newton at one moment found himself jammed against some curiosity, and at another treading on the toes or heels of people, who accepted his apologies, looking daggers, and with a snarling "don't mention it." but a thundering knock at the door was followed by the announcement of his highness prince fizzybelli--prince fizzybelli at the door--prince fizzybelli coming up--prince fizzybelli (enters). had it been permitted, dr plausible would have received his guest with a flourish of trumpets, as great men are upon the stage, without which it is impossible now-a-days to know a great man from a little one. however, the hired attendants did their duty, and the name of fizzybelli was fizzed about the room in every direction. dr plausible trod on the corns of old lady g------, upset miss periwinkle, and nearly knocked down a french _savant_, in his struggle to obtain the door to receive his honoured guest, who made a bow, looked at the crowd--looked at the chandelier--looked at his watch, and looked very tired in the course of five minutes, when prince fizzybelli ordered his carriage, and was off. newton, who had examined several very strange things which occupied the tables about the room, at last made his way to the ante-room, where the crowd was much more dense than elsewhere. taking it for granted that there was something interesting to be seen, he persevered until he had forced his way to the centre, when what was his astonishment when he beheld under a long glass-case a figure of a woman modelled in wax, of exact and certainly of beautiful proportion! it was as large as life, and in a state of perfect nudity. the face lifted up, and discovered the muscles beneath; in fact, every part of the image could be removed, and presented to the curious every part of the human frame, modelled exact, and coloured. newton was indeed astonished: he had witnessed several articles in the other room, which he had considered more fitted for the museum of an institution than a drawing-room; but this was indeed a novelty; and when, to crown all, he witnessed certain little _demireps_ of science, who fancied that not to be ashamed was now as much a proof of knowledge, as in our first parents it was of innocence, and who eyed the figure without turning away from it or blushing, he quitted the room with disgust, and returned home quite satisfied with one _conversazione_. i am not partial to blues: generally speaking, ladies do not take up science until they find that the men will not take up them; and a remarkably clever woman by reputation is too often a remarkably unpleasant or a remarkably ugly one. but there are exceptions; exceptions that a nation may be proud of--women who can fulfil their duties to their husbands and their children, to their god and to their neighbour, although endowed with minds more powerful than is allotted to one man in tens of thousands. these are heavenly blues; and, among the few, no one shines more pre-eminent than my dear mrs s----e. however, whether newton was satisfied or not, this _conversazione_ was a finisher to dr feasible, who resigned the contest. dr plausible not only carried away the palm--but, what was still worse, he carried off the "practice!" chapter xlv "their only labour is to kill the time; and labour dire it is, and weary woe. they sit--they lounge--turn o'er some idle rhyme: then rising sudden--to the glass they go, or saunter forth with loitering step and slow." _castle of indolence_. captain oughton, who commanded the _windsor castle_, was an original. his figure was short and thick-set, his face broad, and deeply pitted with the small-pox; his nose, an apology for a nose, being a small tubercle arising midway between his eyes and mouth, the former of which were small, the latter wide, and displaying a magnificent row of white teeth. on the whole, it was impossible to look in his face without being immediately struck with his likeness to a bull-dog. his temperament and his pursuits were also analogous; he was a great pugilist, knew the merits of every man in the ring, and the precise date and circumstances attending every battle which had been fought for the previous thirty years. his conversation was at all times interlarded with the slang terms appropriated to the science to which he was so devoted. in other points he was a brave and trustworthy officer, although he valued the practical above the theoretical branches of his profession, and was better pleased when superintending the mousing of a stay or the strapping of a block than when "flooring" the sun, as he termed it, to ascertain the latitude, or "breaking his noddle against the old woman's," in taking a lunar observation. newton had been strongly recommended to him, and captain oughton extended his hand as to an old acquaintance, when they met on the quarter-deck. before they had taken a dozen turns up and down, captain oughton inquired if newton could handle the mauleys; and on being assured in the negative, volunteered his instruction during their passage out. "you heard the end of it, i suppose?" said captain oughton, in continuance. "the end of what, sir?" "what!--why the fight. spring beat. i've cleared three hundred by him." "then, sir, i am very glad that spring beat," replied newton. "i'll back him against a stone heavier any day in the week. i've got the newspaper in the cabin, with the fight--forty-seven rounds; but we can't read it now--we must see after these soldiers and their traps. look at them," continued captain oughton, turning to a party of the troops ordered for a passage, who were standing on the gangway and booms; "every man jack with his tin pot in his hand, and his greatcoat on. twig the drum-boy, he has turned his coat--do you see?--with the lining outwards to keep it clean. by jove, that's a _wrinkle_!" "how many officers do you expect, captain oughton?" "i hardly know--they make such alterations in their arrangements; five or six, i believe. the boat went on shore for them at nine o'clock. they have sent her back, with their compliments, seven times already, full of luggage. there's one lieutenant--i forget his name--whose chests alone would fill up the main-deck. there's six under the half-deck," said captain oughton, pointing to them. "lieutenant winterbottom," observed newton, reading the name. "i wish to heaven that he had remained the winter, or that his chests were all to the bottom! i don't know where the devil we are to stow them. oh, here they come! boatswain's mate, 'tend the side there.'" in a minute, or thereabouts, the military gentlemen made their appearance one by one on the quarter-deck, scrutinising their gloves as they bade adieu to the side-ropes, to ascertain if they had in any degree been defiled by the adhesive properties of the pitch and tar. captain oughton advanced to receive them, "welcome, gentlemen," said he, "welcome on board. we trip our anchor in half an hour. i am afraid that i have not the pleasure of knowing your names, and must request the honour of being introduced." "major clavering, sir," said the major, a tall, handsome man, gracefully taking off his hat: "the officers who accompany are (waving his hand towards them in succession), lieutenant winterbottom--" lieutenant winterbottom bowed. "i've had the pleasure of reading lieutenant winterbottom's name several times this forenoon," observed captain oughton, as he returned the salute. "you refer to my luggage, i'm afraid, captain oughton." "why, if i must say it, i certainly think you have enough for a general." "i can only reply that i wish my rank were equal to my luggage; but it is a _general_ complaint every time i have the misfortune to embark. i trust, captain oughton, it will be the only one you will have to make of me during the passage." major clavering, who had waited during this dialogue, continued--"captain majoribanks, whom i ought to apologise to for not having introduced first--" "not at all, major; you just heard the brevet rank which winterbottom's baggage has procured him." "not the first time a man has obtained rank through his 'baggage,'" observed one of the officers, _sotto voce_. "mr ansell, mr petres, mr irving." the necessary bows were exchanged, and mr williams, the first mate, desired to show the officers to their respective accommodations, when he would be able to ascertain what part of their luggage was required, and be enabled to strike the remainder down into the after-hold. as the officers followed the first mate down the companion-ladder, captain oughton looked at mr ansell, and observed to newton, "that fellow would _peel_ well." the _windsor castle_ sailed, and in a few days was clear of the channel. newton, whose thoughts were of isabel revel, felt not that regret at quitting the country, usually attached to those who leave all dear to them behind. he knew that it was by following up his profession alone that he ever could have a chance of obtaining her; and this recollection, with the hopes of again beholding the object of his affections, lightened his heart to joy, as the ship scudded across the bay of biscay, before a n.e. gale. that he had little chance at present of possessing her, he knew; but hope leads us on, and no one more than the youth who is in love. the table of captain oughton was liberally supplied, and the officers embarked proved (as they almost invariably do) to be pleasant, gentlemanlike companions. the boxing-gloves were soon produced by captain oughton, who soon ascertained that in the officer who "would peel so well" he had found his match. the mornings were passed away in sparring, fencing, reading, walking the deck, or lolling on the hen-coops upon the poop. the announcement of the dinner-hour was a signal for rejoicing; and they remained late at the table, doing ample justice to the captain's excellent claret. the evening was finished with cards, cigars, and brandy _pawnee_. thus passed the time away for the first three weeks of the passage, during which period all parties had become upon intimate terms. but the voyage is, in itself, most tedious; and more tedious to those who not only have no duty to perform, but have few resources. as soon as the younger officers thought they might take a liberty, they examined the hen-coops, and selecting the most promising-looking cocks, trimmed them for fighting; chose between themselves, as their own property, those which they most approved of, and for some days fed and sparred them, to get them into wind, and ascertain the proper way in which they should be spurred. in the meantime, two pairs of spurs were, by their directions, clandestinely made by the armourer of the ship, and, when ready, they took advantage of the time when captain oughton was every day employed with the ship's reckoning, and the poulterer was at his dinner (viz., from twelve to one), to fight a main. the cocks which were killed in these combats were returned to the hen-coops, and supposed by the poulterer, who had very often had a glass of grog, to have quarrelled within the bars. "steward," said captain oughton, "why the devil do you give us so many fowls for dinner? the stock will never last out the voyage: two roast fowls, two boiled fowls, curried fowl, and chicken pie! what can you be thinking of?" "i spoke to the poulterer on the subject, sir; he constantly brings me down fowls, and he tells me that they kill each other fighting." "fighting! never heard of fowls fighting in a coop before. they must be all game fowls." "that they are, most of them," said mr petres; "i have often seen them fighting when i have been on the poop." "so have i," continued ansell; "i have seen worse cocks in the pit." "well, it's very odd; i never lost a cock in this way in all my voyages. send the poulterer here; i must inquire about it." "yes, sir," replied the steward; and he quitted the cabin. with the exception of the major, who knew nothing of the circumstances, the officers thought it advisable to decamp, that they might not be present when the _dénouement_ took place. the poulterer made his appearance, was interrogated, and obliged, in his own defence, to criminate the parties, corroborating his assertions by producing a pair of spurs found upon a cock which had been killed, and thrown behind the coop in a hurry, at the appearance of captain oughton on deck. "i am sorry that my officers should have taken such a liberty," observed the major, gravely. "oh, never mind, major, only allow me to be even with them; i shouldn't have minded if i had seen the fighting. i think you said that you would like to exercise your men a little this afternoon?" "i did; that is, if not inconvenient." "not in the least, major; the quarter-deck is at your service. i presume you do not superintend yourself." "yes, i generally do." "well, don't this time; but let all the officers; and then i shall be able to play them a little trick that will make us all square." major clavering consented. the officers were ordered up to drill their men. captain majoribanks and mr irving had one party at the platoon exercise. "third man, your hand a little higher on the barrel of your musket. as you were; support--the word support is only a caution--arms,--too--too." "two and two makes four," observed one of the seamen. lieutenant winterbottom had another party on the leeside of the quarter-deck. "ram down--cartridge--no. , slope your musket a little more--_too_--_too_--only two taps at the bottom of the barrel. return--ramrods. no. , why don't you draw up the heel of your right leg level with the other? recollect now, when you shoulder arms, to throw your muskets up smartly.--shoulder--as you were--the word shoulder is only a caution; shoulder--arms. dress up a little, no. , and don't stick your stomach out in that way." mr ansell and mr petres had two fatigue parties on the poop, without muskets. "to the right--face--to the right face. to the right--face--to the right--face." "it's a dead calm with them soldiers--head round the compass," said one of the seamen to another. "to the left--face--quick march, to the left--turn--to the right--turn--close file--mark time--right--left--right--left--forward." "them 'ere chap's legs all going together put one in mind of a centipee--don't they, tom?" "yes, but they don't get on quite so fast. holloh, what pipe's that?--'all hands, air bedding.'" the ship was hauled close to the wind, which was light. at the pipe, the sailors below ran up the hatchway, and those on deck threw down their work. in a minute every hammock was out of the netting, and every seaman busy at unlashing. "now, major, we had better go into the cabin," said captain oughton, laughing. "i shall, i can assure you." beds and blankets which are not aired or shook more than once a month, are apt to be very full of what is termed _fluff_ and blanket _hairs_, and they have a close smell, by no means agreeable. the sailors, who had an idea that the order had not been given inconsiderately, were quite delighted, and commenced shaking their blankets on the forecastle and weather gangway, raising a cloud, which the wind carried aft upon the parties exercising upon the quarter-deck. "what the devil is all this?" cried captain majoribanks, looking forward with dismay. "order--arms." lieutenant winterbottom and half of his party were now seized with a fit of coughing. "confound it!--shut--pans--handle--upon my soul i'm choked." "this is most excessively disagreeable," observed mr petres; "i made up my mind to be _tarred_ when i came on board, but i had no idea that we should be _feathered_." "support--d--n it, there's no supporting this!" cried captain majoribanks. "where's major clavering? i'll ask to dismiss the men." "they are dismissing a great many little men, forward, i suspect," said the first mate, laughing. "i cannot imagine what induced captain oughton to give the order: we never shake bedding except when the ship's before the wind." this last very consoling remark made it worse than all; the officers were in an agony. there was not one of them who would not have stood the chance of a volley from a french regiment rather than what they considered that they were exposed to. but without major clavering's permission they could not dismiss their men. captain majoribanks hastened to the cabin, to explain their very unpleasant situation, and received the major's permission to defer the exercise. "well, gentlemen," said captain oughton, "what is the matter?" "the matter!" replied ansell. "why, my flesh creeps all over me. of all the thoughtless acts, captain oughton, it really beats--" "cock-fighting," interrupted the captain, with a loud laugh. "now we are quits." the officers hastened below to wash and change their dress after this very annoying retaliation on the part of captain oughton. when they felt themselves again clean and comfortable, their good humour returned, although they voted their captain not to be very refined in his ideas, and agreed with him that his practical joke beat "cock-fighting." i believe that there are no classes of people who embark with more regret, or quit a ship with more pleasure, than military men. nor is it to be wondered at, if we consider the antithesis which is presented to their usual mode of life. few military men are studious, or inclined to reading, which is almost the only resource which is to be found against the tedium of long confinement and daily monotony. i do not say this reproachfully, as i consider it arises from the peculiarity of their profession, and must be considered to be more their misfortune than their fault. they enter upon a military life just after they have left school,--the very period at which, from previous and forced application, they have been surfeited with books _usque ad nauseam_. the parade, dress; the attention paid to them, which demands civilities in return; society, and the preference shown by the fair sex; their happy and well-conducted mess; the collecting together of so many young men, with all their varied plans of amusement, into which the others are easily persuaded to enter, with just sufficient duty on guard, or otherwise, not to make the duty irksome; all delight too much at first, and eventually, from habit, too much occupy their minds, to afford time for study. in making this observation, i must be considered to speak generally. there are many studious, many well-stored minds, many men of brilliant talents, who have improved the gift of nature by constant study and reflection, and whose conduct must be considered as the more meritorious, from having resisted or overcome the strong temptation to do otherwise which is offered by their profession. "i wish," said irving, who was stretched out his full length on one of the coops abaft, with the front of his cap drawn over his eyes--"i wish this cursed voyage was at an end. every day the same thing; no variety--no amusement;--curry for breakfast--brandy _pawnee_ as a finish. i really begin to detest the sight of a cigar or a pack of cards." "very true," replied ansell, who was stretched upon an adjacent coop in all the listlessness of idleness personified--"very true, irving; i begin to think it worse than being quartered in a country town inhabited by nobodies, where one has nothing to do but to loll and spit over the bridge all day, till the bugle sounds for dinner." "oh! that was infinitely better; at least, you could walk away when you were tired, or exchange a word or two with a girl as she passed over it, on her way to market." "why don't you take a book, irving?" observed the major, laying down the one with which he had been occupied, to join the conservation. "a book, major? oh, i've read until i am tired." "what have you read since you embarked ?" inquired his senior. "let me see--ansell, what have i read?" "read!--nothing at all--you know that." "well, perhaps so; we have no mess-newspapers here: the fact is, major, i am not very partial to reading--i am not in the habit of it. when on shore i have too much to do; but i mean to read by-and-bye." "and pray, when may that by-and-bye be supposed to arrive?" "oh! some day when i am wounded or taken prisoner, and cannot do anything else; then i shall read a good deal. here's captain oughton--captain oughton, do you read much?" "yes, mr irving, i read a great deal." "pray, may i take the liberty to ask you what you read?" "what i read! why, i read horsburgh's directory:--and i read--i read all the fights." "i think," observed ansell, "that if a man gets through the newspaper and the novels of the day, he does a great deal." "he reads a great deal, i grant you," replied the major; "but of what value is that description of reading?" "there, major," replied ansell, "we are at issue. i consider a knowledge of the passing events of the day, and a recollection of the facts which have occurred during the last twenty years, to be more valuable than all the ancient records in existence. who talks of cæsar or xenophon nowadays, except some cambridge or oxford prig? and of what value is that knowledge in society? the escape of a modern pickpocket will afford more matter of conversation than the famous retreat of the ten thousand." "to be sure," replied captain oughton; "and a fair stand-up fight between humphreys and mendoza create more interest than the famous battles of--, i'm sure i forget." "of marathon and thermopylæ; they will do," added ansell. "i grant," replied the major, "that it is not only unnecessary, but conceited in those who would show their reading; but this does not disprove the advantages which are obtained. the mind, well fed, becomes enlarged: and if i may use a simile, in the same way as your horse proves his good condition by his appearance, without people ascertaining the precise quantity of oats which has been given him; so the mind shows, by its general vigour and power of demonstration, that it has been well supplied with 'hard food.'" "very _hard food_ indeed," replied captain oughton; "nuts that i never could crack when i was at school, and don't mean to break my teeth with now. i agree with mr ansell, 'that sufficient for the day is the knowledge thereof.'" "well, as the tree of knowledge was the tree of evil, perhaps that is the correct reading," replied ansell, laughing; "captain oughton, you are a very sensible man; i hope we shall see you often at our mess, when we're again on shore." "you may say so now," replied captain oughton, bluntly, "and so have many more said the same thing to me; but you soldiers have cursed short memories in that way after you have landed." "i trust, captain oughton," replied major clavering, "that you will not have to make that accusation general." "oh! never mind, major; i never am affronted; the offer is made in kindness, and at the time sincere; but when people get on shore, and are so occupied with their own amusements, it is not to be wondered at if they are thoughtless and forget. at one time, it did annoy me, i confess; for when i say i should be happy to see a man, i mean it; and if i did not mean it, i never would ask him. i thought that other people did the same; but i have lived long enough to discover that a 'general invitation' means, 'don't come at all.'" "then i most certainly shall not say one word on the subject at present," replied the major. "how many bells was that?" "six; dinner will be on the table in a few minutes." "then, gentlemen, we had better go down and prepare. why, mr irving, you have not shaved this morning!" "no, major, i mean to do it after dinner." "i should rather think that you intended to say _before_," replied major clavering. this gentlemanlike hint was taken by the young ensign, who was aware that major clavering, although invariably polite, even in reproof, was not a commanding officer to be trifled with; and mr irving made his appearance at the dinner-table with his "chin new reaped," and smooth as if appertaining to one of the fairer sex. chapter xlvi "come o'er the sea, maiden, with me, mine through sunshine, storm and snows; seasons may roll, but the true soul burns the same where'er it goes. let fate frown on, so we love and part not, 'tis life where thou art, 'tis death where thou'rt not." moore. the voyage was at last accomplished without adventure or interest, the _windsor castle_ not having fallen in with more than two or three vessels during her passage. happy were the military officers to hear the order given for the anchor to be let go upon their arrival in madras roads; more happy were they to find themselves again on shore; and most happy were captain oughton and his officers to witness the debarkation of the troops, who had so long crowded their decks and impeded their motions. parting was indeed "sweet sorrow," as it always will be when there is short allowance of room, and still shorter allowance of water. newton forster was in a state of anxiety during the quarter of an hour in which he was obliged to attend to his duty, furling the sails and squaring the yards; and the time appeared most insupportably long, until he could venture aft to make some inquiries from the dubashes, who were crowding alongside, as to the fate of isabel revel. time and absence had but matured his passion, and it was seldom that isabel was away from his thoughts. he had a faint idea formed by hope that she was partial to him; but this was almost smothered by the fears which opposed it, when he reflected upon what might be produced by absence, importunity, and her independent spirit, which might, if not well treated by her relation, reconcile her to a marriage, which, although not in every way eligible, secured to her a prospect of contentment and of peace. at last the yards were squared to the satisfaction of the boatswain, the ropes were hauled taut, and coiled down, and the men sent below to their dinners. newton walked aft, and the first person he met was the dubash who had attended the _bombay castle_. the cheeks of newton flushed, and his heart throbbed quick, and his lips quivered, as he asked intelligence of the colonel and his family. "colonel saib quite well, sir. two ladies marry officer." "which two?" demanded newton, eagerly. "not know how call bibi saib's names. but one not marry--she very handsome--more handsome than all." the heart of newton bounded at this intelligence, as he knew that it must be isabel who was still a spinster. this was shortly after corroborated by an english gentleman who came on board. their stay at madras was intended to be short, and newton resolved to ask immediate leave on shore. apologising to captain oughton for making such an unusual request, which he was induced to do from intelligence he had just received relative to his friends, he expressed his anxious wish. captain oughton, who had reason to be highly satisfied with newton, gave his consent in the kindest manner; "and, forster, if you wish to remain, you have my permission. we will manage without you: only recollect, we sail on thursday night." newton was soon ready, and quitted the ship with major clavering; to whose credit it ought here to be observed, that a _daily_ note was despatched to captain oughton, requesting the pleasure of his company at the mess, until he was satisfied that, in this instance, the general invitation was sincere. as soon as he was clear of the surf and out of the masulah boat, newton hired a conveyance, and drove out to the bungalow of the old colonel. he trembled as he announced his name to the butler, who ushered him halfway to the receiving-room; and, like most of the natives, finding some difficulty in pronouncing english, contented himself with calling out "burrah saib," and then walked off. newton found himself in the presence of the old veteran and isabel. the latter had been reading a new publication, which she laid down at the voice of the butler announcing a visitor. but "burrah saib" may be anybody; it implies a gentleman. what then was the surprise of isabel, who had no intimation of his arrival, when newton forster made his appearance? her exclamation of delight, as she ran to him and extended her hand, made newton forster but too happy; and, as for a few seconds he held the hand not withdrawn, and looked in her beaming eyes, he quite forgot the presence of the colonel. a glance from the eye of isabel in the direction where the old gentleman was seated brought newton to his recollection. he walked up to the colonel, who shook hands, and declared that he was most glad to see him. "you take up your quarters here, of course, mr forster?" "i shall have great pleasure in availing myself of your kind offer for a day or two," replied newton. "i trust that you have been in good health since we parted." "not very; that is, latterly. i am thinking of a change of climate. i intend to go home in october. i suppose you have been informed that the two young women have married?" "i was told so by some one who came on board." "yes. isabel, my dear, order a chamber for mr forster." isabel left the room. "yes, both married--thought of nothing else--regularly came out on spec. in less than a month they knew the exact rank of every gentleman in the presidency; ascertained their prospects, and the value of their appointments; turned the rupees into pounds sterling; broke off a conversation with an ensign at the sight of a lieutenant; cut the lieutenant for a captain; were all smiles for a major; and actually made love themselves to any body who was above that rank, and a bachelor. they made their decision at last; indeed pretty quick. they were only four months on my hands. both up the country now." "i trust they have married well, sir?" "that depends upon circumstances. they have married young men not used to the climate. may be widows in half a year. if their husbands weather it, of course, they will come in for their share of the good things; but i'll warrant they will never be able to leave the country." "not leave the country, sir! may i ask why?" "because they have married foolish, extravagant wives, who will run them in debt; and when once in debt, it is no easy matter in this country to get out of it. they must insure their lives for the money which they borrow; and as the house of agency will be gainers by their demise, of course they will not be permitted to leave the country and their chance of the _cholera morbus_. don't you think that my niece looks remarkably well?" "i do; the climate does not appear to have affected her." "rather improved her," replied the colonel; "she is not so thin as when she came on shore. god bless her! i'm sure, mr forster, i am under great obligations to you for having persuaded me to go for the dear girl when she arrived. she has been a treasure to me! if she has had one, she has had twenty offers since you left; many unexceptionable; but she has refused them all. in some instances i have persuaded her--i thought it was my duty. but no; she has but one answer, and that is a decided one. she will not leave me. she has watched and attended me in my sickness as my own daughter. i say again, god bless her!" it was with delight that newton heard these encomiums upon isabel, and her resolution not to marry. whether it was wholly on account of not wishing to leave the colonel or not, still every delay gave him more chance of ultimate success. isabel, who had stayed away that the colonel might have time to make any communications to newton, now returned, and the conversation became general. newton entered into a narrative of what had occurred during his passage home, and amused them with his anecdotes and conversation. in about an hour the colonel rose from his chair that he might prepare for dinner; and then it was that newton perceived the great change which had taken place. he was no longer upright, but bowed down; his step was no longer firm, it was almost tottering; and, as he left the room, newton's eyes met those of isabel. "you think him ill?" said isabel, inquiringly. "yes, i do, miss revel. he is very much changed; his stamina appears to have been exhausted by the climate. i trust he will go home as he proposes." "he has been ill--very ill indeed. he talks constantly of home; he has done so for months; but when the time comes he puts it off. i wish you would persuade him." "i will do all i can; but if you cannot prevail, i'm afraid that my persuasion will be of little use." "indeed, i think otherwise; you have power over him, mr forster. i have not forgotten how kindly you exercised it in my behalf. we--that is," continued isabel, colouring up, "the colonel has often talked of you since you quitted us." "i feel highly flattered by his remembrance," replied newton; "but you are in mourning, miss revel. if not a liberty from one who feels an interest in all concerning you, may i inquire for whom?" "it is for my father," replied isabel, with emotion, sitting down, and passing her hand across her eyes. "i never heard of his death, and must apologise for having been so indiscreet as to renew your sorrow. how long is it since? and what was his complaint?" "he had no complaint--would to god that he had had! he was shot in a duel," replied isabel, as the tears coursed down her cheeks. "oh! mr forster, i trust i am resigned to the dispensations of providence, but--that he should be summoned away at the moment when he was seeking the life of his fellow-creature, with all the worst passions in excitement--unprepared--for he was killed on the spot. these reflections will make his death a source of bitter regret, which can terminate but with existence." "your mother is still alive?" inquired newton, to change the painful subject. "yes, but very ill; the last accounts were very distressing; they say that her complaint is incurable." newton regretted having brought up so painful a subject. a few words of condolence and sympathy were offered, and they separated to prepare for dinner. newton remained four days under the roof of the colonel, during which time he was constantly in the society of isabel; and when the period of his departure arrived, he had just grounds to imagine that, were all obstacles in other points removed, isabel revel would not, on her part, have raised any against the accomplishment of his wishes; but their mutual dependent situations chased away all ideas of the kind for the present, and although they parted with unconcealed emotion, not a word which could be construed into a declaration of attachment was permitted to escape his lips. the _windsor castle_ sailed for calcutta, and in a few days anchored at kedgeree to wait for a pilot to come down the river. during their short stay at this anchorage, mr williams, the first mate, who was an old indian voyager, went on shore every evening to follow up his darling amusement of shooting jackals, a description of game by no means scarce in that quarter of the world. often remonstrated with for his imprudence in exposing himself to the heavy night-dew, he would listen to no advice. "it was very true," he acknowledged, "that his brother had died of a jungle fever in pursuing the same amusement, and what was more, the fowling-piece in his hand belonged to his brother, who had bequeathed it to him; but as he had never heard of two brothers dying from a jungle fever taken by shooting jackals, he considered that the odds were strongly in his favour." this argument, however specious, did not prove good. the third morning he returned on board, complaining of a headache and shivering. he was bled and put into his bed, which he never left again. before the _windsor castle_ was ready to sail, the remains of mr williams were consigned to the burying-ground at diamond harbour, and newton forster was promoted to the rank of first mate of the _windsor castle_. this, as will hereafter be proved, was a most fortunate occurrence to newton forster. the _windsor castle_ sailed with leave to call at madras for letters or passengers, and in a few days was again at anchor in the roadstead. the first intelligence which they received upon their arrival was, that the _cholera morbus_ had been very fatal, and that among others, the old colonel had fallen a victim to the disease. newton again obtained permission to go on shore to isabel. he found her in distress at the house of a mrs enderby, a lady who had lost her husband by the same ravaging epidemic, and who had long been the intimate friend of the colonel and of isabel. mrs enderby was about to return to england by the first vessel, and had advised isabel to take so favourable an opportunity of a _chaperon_. isabel, who had many reasons for wishing to leave the country, particularly the declining state of her mother's health, had consented; and it was with great pleasure that she received from newton the information of the best cabins of the _windsor castle_ not having been hitherto engaged. the colonel's will had been opened. he had bequeathed his property, the whole of which, with the exception of his establishment in india, was invested in the english funds, to his grand-niece isabel revel. it amounted to nearly seventy thousand pounds. it would be difficult to say whether newton forster felt glad or sorry at this intelligence. for isabel's sake, he undoubtedly was glad; but he could not but feel that it increased the distance between them, and on that account, and on that alone, his reflections were painful. "had it," thought he, "been five thousand, or even ten thousand pounds, it would have been different. in the course of a few years i might have been able to produce an equivalent to it, and--but this fortune has raised her above my hopes; even if she had a prepossession in my favour, it would be dishonest to take advantage of it." isabel revel had very different feelings on the subject--she was her own mistress, and her manner to newton was more cordial, more confidential than before. she had not forgotten that newton had shown the same regard and partiality for her when she was going out to india, and afterwards, when in distress; he had been her friend and admirer when in adversity. she knew his feelings towards her, and she had appreciated his delicacy and forbearance. lately she had seriously analysed her own, and her analysis was wound up by a mental acknowledgment that her wealth would be valueless, if she could not share it with newton forster. at the request of mrs enderby, the poop cabins were engaged for isabel and herself. their time for preparation was short; but one day more having been obtained from captain oughton, through the influence of newton, mrs enderby and isabel embarked, and the _windsor castle_ spread her canvas, sailing away from pestilence and death. chapter xlvii "britannia needs no bulwark, no towers along the steep, her march is o'er the mountain waves, her home is on the deep." campbell. the _windsor castle_ ploughed through the vast ocean of waters before a propitious gale, laden with treasure, in the safe arrival of which so many were interested. but what were all the valuables stowed away in her frame, in the opinion of newton forster, in comparison with the lovely being who had entrusted them with her safe conduct to her native country! the extreme precautions adopted or suggested by newton for security during the night--his nervous anxiety during the day--became a source of laughter and ridicule to captain oughton; who once observed to him,--"newton, my boy, i see how the land lies, but depend upon it the old ship won't tumble overboard a bit sooner than before; so one reef in the top-sails will be quiet sufficient." indeed, although they "never mentioned it," it was impossible for either of them to disguise their feelings. their very attempts at concealment only rendered them more palpable to everyone on board. captain oughton, who was very partial to newton, rejoiced in his good fortune. he had no objection to young people falling or being in love on board of his ship, although he would not have sanctioned or permitted a marriage to take place during the period that a young lady was under his protection. once landed on deal beach, as he observed, they might "buckle to" as soon as they pleased. the _windsor castle_ was within two hundred miles of the mauritius, when a strange vessel was discovered on the weather beam, bearing down to them with all the canvas she could spread. her appearance was warlike; but what her force might be, it was impossible to ascertain at the distance she was off, and the position which she then offered, being nearly "end on." "can you make out her hull, mr forster?" cried captain oughton, hailing newton, who was at the mast-head with a glass. "no, sir; her fore-yard is but now clear of the water, but she rises very fast." "what do you think of her spars, forster?" said captain oughton to newton, who had just descended to the last rattling of the main-rigging. "she is very taut, sir, and her canvas appears to be foreign." "i'll bet you what you please it's that d----d fellow surcoeuf. this is just his cruising ground, if the report of that neutral vessel was correct." "another hour will decide the point, sir," replied newton; "but i must say i think your surmise likely to prove correct. we may as well be ready for him: a cruiser she certainly is." "the sooner the better, mr forster. he's but a 'rum customer,' and 'a hard hitter' by all accounts. clear up the decks, and beat to quarters." the strange vessel came down with such rapidity that, by the time the captain's orders were obeyed, she was not more than two miles distant. "there's 'instudding-sails;'--and in devilish good style too!" observed captain oughton. "now we shall see what he's made of." the vessel rounded to the wind as soon as she had reduced her sails, on the same tack as the _windsor castle_, displaying her broadside, as the french would say, _herissée de canons_. "a corvette, sir," said newton, reconnoitring through his glass; "two-and-twenty guns besides her bridle ports. she is french rigged;--the rake of her stern is french;--in fact, she is french all over." "all lombard street to a china orange, 'tis surcoeuf," replied captain oughton, who, with the rest of his officers, had his glass upon the vessel. "there goes the tricoloured flag to prove i've won my bet. answer the challenge. toss my hat up.--pshaw! i mean hoist the colours there abaft. mr thomas," continued captain oughton, addressing the boatswain, "send the ship's company aft.--forster, you had better see the ladies down below." at the summons of the boatswain, the men came aft, and stood in a body on the lee side of the quarter-deck, with their hats off, and impatience in their looks. "now, my lads," said captain oughton, "if i am not mistaken, that vessel is commanded by the very best seaman that ever left a french port, and to do him justice, he's a damnation fine fellow!--a severe punisher, and can take a mauling as well as give one." "yes, sir, so can we," replied several of the men together. "i know you can, my lads; and give and take is fair play. all i say is, let it be a fair stand up fight, and 'may the best man win.' so now, my lads, if you're ready to come to the scratch, why, the sooner we peel the better--that's all." "hurrah!" cried the seamen, as they separated to their quarters; and, in compliance with the injunctions of the captain, threw off their jackets, and many of them their shirts, to prepare for the conflict. the corvette, after she had rounded to, and exchanged colours, reduced her sails to precisely the same canvas as that carried by the _windsor castle_. this was to try her rate of sailing. in a quarter of an hour, her superiority was manifest. she then hauled up her courses, and dropped to her former position on the _windsor castle's_ weather-beam. "the fellow has the heels of us, at all events," observed captain oughton; "but, forster, the ladies are not yet below. mrs enderby, i am sorry to be obliged to put you in confinement for a short time. miss revel, you must do me the favour to accept of mr forster's convoy below the water-line." newton offered his arm to isabel, and followed captain oughton, who escorted mrs enderby. his heart was swelling with such variety of feeling that he could not at first trust himself to speak. when they had descended the ladder, and were picking their way, stepping over the rammers, sponges, and tackles, stretched across the main-deck, newton observed--"this is not the first time i have been commissioned to place you in security. i trust i shall again have the pleasure of relieving you from your bondage." isabel's lips quivered as she replied, "i trust in god that you may, mr forster!--but--i feel more anxious now than i did on the former occasion. i--" "i have a foreboding," interrupted newton, "that this day's work is to make or mar me! why, i cannot tell, but i feel more confident than the chances would warrant; but farewell, isabel--god bless you!"--and newton, pressing her hand, sprang up the ladder to his station on the quarter-deck. i have before observed that a man's courage much depends upon his worldly means or prospects. a man who has much to lose, whatever the property may consist of, will be less inclined to fight than another whose whole capital consists of a "light heart and a thin pair of breeches." upon the same reasoning, a man in love will not be inclined to fight as another. death then cuts off the sweetest prospects in existence. lord st vincent used to say that a married man was d----d for the service. now (bating the honeymoon), i do not agree with his lordship. a man in love may be inclined to play the mark antony; but a married man, "come what will, he has been blessed." once fairly into action, it then is of little consequence whether a man is a bachelor, or married, or in love; the all-absorbing occupation of killing your fellow-creatures makes you for the time forget whether you are a beggar or a prince. when newton returned on deck, he found that the corvette had gradually edged down until nearly within point-blank range. "shall we lay the main-topsail to the mast, sir?" observed newton. "we shall see his manoeuvres." "why, he hardly would be fool enough to bear down to us," replied captain oughton; "he is a determined fellow, i know; but i believe not a rash one. however, we can but try. square the main-yard." as soon as the _windsor castle_ was hove-to, the courses of the enemy were seen to flutter a few moments in the breeze, and then the canvas was expanded. when the vessel had gathered sufficient way, she hove in stays, and crossed the _windsor castle_ on the opposite tack. "i thought so," observed captain oughton. "the fellow knows what he is about. he'll not 'put his head in chancery,' that's clear. how cautious the rascal is! it's very like the first round of a fight--much manoeuvring and wary sparring before they begin to make play." the corvette stood on the opposite tack until well abaft the beam. she then wore round, and ranged up on the weather quarter of the indiaman. when within two cables' length of the _windsor castle_, who had, a little before, filled her main-topsail to be in command, the frenchman hauled up his foresail, and discovered his lower rigging manned by the ship's company, who gave a loud but hasty cheer, and then disappeared. one cock crowing is a challenge, sure to be answered, if the antagonist is game. the english seamen sprang up to return the compliment, when captain oughton roared out, "to your guns, you fools! hard down with the helm--fly the jib-sheet--check headbraces--look out now, my lads." the corvette had already put her helm up and paid off to pass under the stern of the _windsor castle_, with the intention of raking her. the promptitude of captain oughton foiled the manoeuvre of the frenchman; which would have been more fatal had the english seamen been in the rigging to have been swept off by his grape-shot. as the _windsor castle_ was thrown up on the wind, an exchange of broadsides took place, which, according to the usual custom of all well regulated broadsides in close conflict, cut away a certain proportion of the spars and rigging, and cut up a proportion of the ships' companies. the _windsor castle_, worked by newton, bracing round on the other tack, and the corvette rounding to on the same, the two vessels separated for a few minutes. "devilish well stopped, newton, wasn't it?" said captain oughton, showing his white teeth. "look out again--here she comes." the corvette again attempted to rake as she ranged up after tacking, by throwing herself up in the wind; but captain oughton, watching the slightest variation of his adversary's career, gradually edging away, and then putting his helm up, manoeuvred that the broadsides should again be exchanged. this second exchange was more effectual than the first. "a stomacher, and both down!" cried captain oughton, as he surveyed the deck. "be quick, newton, hand the men below. don't bring her to the wind yet, he has lost his way by luffing up, and cannot make play again for a few minutes." after the second broadside the vessels were much further apart, from the _windsor castle_ running off the wind, while the corvette was too much crippled to work with her usual rapidity. this was convenient to both parties, as the last broadside had been very mischievous. the frenchman, low in the water, had suffered less in her hull and ship's company, but more in her spars and rigging. the foremast was nearly cut in half by the carronade shot of her antagonist; her main-yard was badly wounded, and her wheel knocked to atoms, which obliged them to steer on the lower deck. the _windsor castle_ had received five shots in her hull, three men killed, and six wounded; three of her main shrouds cut in two, and her mizen-mast badly wounded. it was a quarter of an hour before the frenchman returned to the attack. captain oughton had again hauled his wind, as if not wishing to decline the combat; which, indeed, the superior sailing of his antagonist prevented. the corvette appeared to have given up manoeuvring; whether from the crippled state of her spars and sails, or from perceiving that he had hitherto gained nothing by his attempts. he now ranged up to within two cables' lengths of the _windsor castle_, and recommenced the action, broadside to broadside. the breeze was lulled by the concussion of the air; and both vessels continued in the same position, and at the same distance for upwards of an hour, pouring in their broadsides, every shot of which was effectual. "now, this is what i call a reg'lar set-to. fire away, my lads," cried captain oughton, rubbing his hands. "a proper rally this. d--n it, but he's game!" the wounded mizen-mast of the _windsor castle_ received another shot in the heart of it, which threw it over the side. every part of her hull proved the severe and well-directed fire of the enemy; her sails were as ragged as jeremy didler's pocket-handkerchief; her remaining masts pitted with shot; the bulwarks torn away in several places; the boats on the booms in shivers; rigging cut away fore and aft, and the ends swinging to and fro with the motion of the vessel; her decks in confusion; and some of her guns, from necessity, deserted. captain oughton, newton, and the rest of the officers continued to encourage the men, giving them assistance in working the guns; and the ship's company appeared to have fully imbibed the bull-dog spirit of their commander. the fire of the _windsor castle_ had been equally destructive. the vessels had gradually neared each other in the calm; and the height of the _windsor castle_ out of the water, in comparison with the corvette, had given her the advantage in sweeping the decks of the enemy. the contending vessels were in this situation, when, for a minute or two, a cessation of firing took place, in consequence of the accumulation of smoke, which had so completely enshrouded them both that they knew not where to direct their guns; and they waited until it should clear away, that the firing might recommence. a light air gradually swept the veil to leeward, and discovered both vessels to each other, at the distance of half a cable's length. captain oughton was with newton on the poop, and the commander of the french corvette was standing on the hammock nettings of his own vessel. the latter took off his hat, and courteously saluted his adversary. captain oughton answered the salutation; and then waving his hat, pointed to the english colours, which had been hoisted at the main; as much as to say, "they never shall come down!" the frenchman (it was surcoeuf) did the same to the tricolour, and the action recommenced. "well done, my lads!" cried captain oughton; "well done! that broadside was a staggerer--right into his ribs. hurrah now, my hearts of oak! this fellow's worth fighting. aim at his foremast--another broadside will floor it. it's on the reel. newton, jump forward, and--" but the order was stopped by a grape-shot, which struck captain oughton on the breast. he staggered and fell off from the poop to the quarter-deck. newton leapt down, and went to him. the torrents of blood from his breast at once told the tale: and newton called to some of the men, that his commander might be taken below. "wait a moment, my dear lad," said captain oughton faintly, and catching his breath at every word; "it's a finisher--can't come to time--i die game." his head fell on his breast, and the blood poured out of his mouth. newton directed the body to be taken into the cuddy, that the men might not be dispirited by the sight. he then hastened to the poop, that he might reconnoitre the enemy. he perceived that the corvette had hauled on board his tattered courses, and was standing ahead of them. "he's off, sir," cried one of the quarter-masters. "i suspect not," replied newton, who had his glass to his eye, looking upon the decks of the french vessel. "they are preparing to board, and will be round again in five minutes. cutlasses and pikes ready--forward, my lads, all of us! we must beat them off!" "and will, too," cried the seamen, as in obedience to their orders, they collected on the forecastle. but they mustered thin; nearly half of the ship's company were either lying dead or under the hands of the surgeon; and, as newton surveyed his little force, fatigued as they were with their exertions, black with powder, stained with blood, and reeking with perspiration, he could not but acknowledge how heavy were the odds against the attack of a vessel so well manned as the corvette appeared to be. newton said but a few words; but they were to the point; and he had the satisfaction to perceive, as they grasped their cutlasses, that if their numbers were few and their frames exhausted, their spirit was as unsubdued as ever. the corvette had in the meantime run ahead on a wind, about a mile, when she wore round, and was now standing right on to the _windsor castle_, and had neared to within three cables' lengths. a few minutes were to decide the point. her courses were again hauled up, and discovered her lee fore-rigging, bowsprit, cat-heads, and forecastle, crowded with men ready for the dash on board, as soon as the vessels should come in contact. newton stood on one of the forecastle guns, surrounded by his men; not a word was spoken on board of the _windsor castle_, as they watched their advancing enemy. they were within a cable's length of each other, and newton could plainly distinguish the features of the gallant surcoeuf, who was in advance on the knight-heads, when a puff of wind, which at any other time would not have occasioned the starting of a royal sheet, took the sails of the corvette; and her wounded foremast, laden with men in the lee-rigging, unable to bear the pressure, fell over the side, carrying with it the maintop-mast and most of the crew who had been standing in the rigging, and leaving the corvette an encumbered wreck. a loud shout from the forecastle of the _windsor castle_ announced that the english seamen were but too well aware of their desperate situation, and that they hailed the misfortune of the frenchmen as their deliverance. "now, my lads, be smart," cried newton, as he sprang aft to the wheel, and put up the helm; "man the flying jib-halyards (the jib was under the forefoot); let go the maintop bowling; square the main-yard. that will do; she's paying off. man your guns; half-a-dozen broadsides, and it's all our own." the sun had disappeared below the horizon, and the shades of evening had set in, before this manoeuvre had been accomplished. several broadsides were poured into the corvette, which had the desired effect of crippling her still more, and her encumbered condition prevented any return. at last the night hid both vessels from each other; and the breeze freshening fast, it was necessary that the remaining masts of the _windsor castle_ should be properly secured. the guns were therefore abandoned; and during the time the seamen were employed in knotting the rigging and bending the spare sails, newton consulted with his brother officers, who were unanimous in agreeing that all had been done that could be expected, and that to wait till the ensuing day, when the corvette would have repaired her damages, would be attended with a risk of capture, which the valuable property entrusted to their charge would never authorise. it was not until past midnight that the _windsor castle_ was in a condition to make sail; but long before this, newton had contrived to leave the deck for a few minutes to communicate with isabel. with most of the particulars, and with the death of captain oughton, she had already been made acquainted; and if there could be any reward to newton for his gallantry and his prudence, more coveted than another, it was the affectionate greeting with which he was welcomed and congratulated by isabel, her eyes beaming with tears of delight as they glanced from his face, and were shrouded on the deck. love and murder make a pretty mixture, although as antithetical as the sweet and acid in punch,--a composition which meets the approbation of all sensible, discriminating people. but i shall leave the reader to imagine all he pleases, and finish the chapter by informing him that, when the sun again made his appearance, the corvette was not to be discovered from the mast-head. the guns were therefore properly secured; the decks washed; a jury mizen-mast stuck up abaft; captain oughton, and the gallant fellows who had fallen in the combat, committed to the deep with the usual ceremonies; the wounded made as comfortable as possible in their hammocks; the carpenters busied with the necessary repairs; and the _windsor castle_, commanded by newton forster, running before a spanking breeze, at the rate of eight knots per hour. chapter xlviii "ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land rats, and water rats, water thieves, and land thieves; i mean pirates." shakespeare. most prophetical was the remark made by newton forster to isabel, previous to the action: to wit, that it would make or mar him. the death of captain oughton, and the spirited defence of the _windsor castle_, were the _making_ of newton forster. as a subordinate officer, he might have been obliged to toil many years before he could have ascended to the summit of the ladder of promotion; and during the time which he remained in that situation, what chance had he of making an independence, and proposing for the hand of isabel revel? but now that, by a chain of circumstances peculiarly fortuitous, he was in command of an east indiaman, returning home after having beat off a vessel of equal if not superior force, and preserved a cargo of immense value, he felt confident that he not only would be confirmed to the rank which he was now called upon to assume, but that he had every prospect of being employed. as a captain of an indiaman, he was aware that reception into society, wealth, and consideration awaited him; and what made his heart to swell with gratitude and exultation, was the feeling that soon he would be enabled to aspire to the hand of one to whom he had so long been ardently attached. as the _windsor castle_ plunged through the roaring and complaining seas, with all the impetus of weight in motion, newton's eyes were radiant with hope, although his demeanour towards isabel was, from the peculiar circumstances attending their situation, more delicately reserved than before. when the _windsor castle_ touched at st helena, newton had the good fortune to obtain a supply of able seamen, more than sufficient for the re-manning of his ship. they had been sent there in an empty brig by a french privateer, who had captured many vessels, and had been embarrassed with the number of her prisoners. having obtained the stores which were required, newton lost no time in prosecuting his voyage to england. it was about a fortnight after they had quitted st helena that a strange sail was reported on the starboard bow; and as they neared her, it was evident that her foremast was gone, and that she was otherwise in a disabled state. when the indiaman was within a mile, the stranger threw out neutral colours, and hoisted a whiff, half-mast down, as a signal that she was in distress. newton ordered the ship to be kept away, and when alongside of the vessel, lowered down a boat, and sent the third mate to ascertain what assistance could be afforded. with sailors, thank god! distress is sufficient to obtain assistance, and the nation or country are at once merged in that feeling of sympathy for those misfortunes which may perhaps but the next hour befall ourselves. the boat returned; and the officer informed newton that the vessel was from the island of bourbon, bound to hamburg; that she had been dismasted and severely injured in a gale off the cape of good hope; and that when her mast went over the side, one-half of her crew, who were up at the time on the fore-yard, had been cast overboard and drowned; that from the want of men and material, they had been unable to rig an effective jury-mast, and had in consequence been so long on their passage that their provisions and water were nearly expended. the officer concluded by stating that there were a french lady and two gentlemen, with their attendants, who had taken their passage home in the vessel. newton immediately went down the side, and pulled on board of the vessel to ascertain what assistance could be afforded. when he arrived on board, he was met by the flemish captain, who commenced a statement of his misfortunes and his difficulties, when the french lady, who, unobserved by newton, had come up the companion-ladder, screamed out as she ran into his arms-- "ah! mon dieu!--c'est monsieur nu-tong!" newton looked at the lady, who had burst into tears, as her face lay upon his shoulder, and immediately recognised his former kind and affectionate friend, madame de fontanges: close to him, with his hand extended, was her generous husband. the meeting was joyful, and newton was delighted that circumstances had enabled him to render assistance to those who had been so kind to him in his former distress. "oh! monsieur nu-tong, nous avons tant soufferts! ah! mon dieu!--point de l'eau--rien à manger," cried madame de fontanges: then smiling through her tears, "mais ce rencontre est charmant;--n'est ce pas, mon ami?" continued the lady, appealing to her husband. "you do not remember monsieur le marquis?" said m. de fontanges to newton. newton turned his head, and recognised the governor of guadaloupe, who had expressed such sympathy at his shipwreck, and had sent him away in the cartel instead of detaining him as a prisoner. the vessel was indeed in a deplorable condition; and had she not received the timely assistance now afforded, would in all probability have soon been a scene of horror and of suffering. they had not more than three days' water remaining on board, and provisions barely sufficing for ten days. newton hastened to send back the boat with orders for an immediate and ample supply of these necessaries, in case of bad weather coming on and preventing further communication. satisfied that their immediate wants were relieved, newton took leave of his friends for the present, and returned on board his own ship, despatching his carpenters and part of his crew to the immediate refit of the vessel; and then selecting a part of everything that the _windsor castle_ contained in her store-rooms or on her decks, which he thought would administer to the comfort or the luxury of the passengers on board of the neutral. in two hours they who were in a state bordering upon famine found themselves revelling in plenty. before night the english seamen had a jury-mast up, and the sails set. the hollanders on board would have given their assistance, but they were told to remain on deck and make up for lost time, which they acquiesced in very readily, eating and drinking as if they were determined to lay in a stock for the remainder of the voyage. newton, who had returned on board of the neutral to superintend the repairs and enjoy the society of his old friends, received from them a long account of what had occurred since their separation. at nightfall he took his leave, promising to continue under easy sail and remain with them for a day or two, until they were satisfied that all was right, and that they no longer required his assistance. the narrative obtained by newton may be thus condensed for the information of the reader. the marquis de fontanges had been appointed from the government of guadaloupe to that of the island of bourbon, which was considered of more importance. monsieur and madame de fontanges accompanied him to his new command; and they had remained there for two years, when the ruling powers, without any ground, except that the marquis had received his appointment from the former government, thought proper to supersede him. frigates were not so plentiful as to spare one for the return of an ex-governor; and the marquis, being permitted to find his way home how he could, had taken advantage of the sailing of the hamburger, to return to europe or to france, or as he might find it advisable. for two days, during which the weather was so fine that madame de fontanges and the gentlemen went on board of the windsor castle, and were introduced to the ladies, newton continued under easy sail, each day despatching to the neutral everything which his gratitude could suggest; but as newton was most anxious to proceed on his voyage, it was agreed that the next morning they should part company. at the close of the evening a strange sail was observed on the weather-beam; but, as she carried no foretop-gallant sail, and appeared to be steering the same course as the windsor castle, she excited but a momentary observation, supposing that she was some homeward-bound neutral, or a merchant vessel which had separated from her convoy. during the night, which was dark, the moon being in her first quarter, the officer of the middle watch lost sight of their _protegee;_ but this was to be expected, as she did not carry a light. before morning the wind fell, and when the sun rose it was a perfect calm. the officer of the watch, as the day dawned, went on the poop, surveying the horizon for their companion, and discovered her six or seven miles astern, lying alongside of the strange vessel which they had seen the day before. both vessels, as well as the _windsor castle,_ were becalmed. he immediately went down to newton, acquainting him with the circumstance, which bore a very suspicious appearance. newton hastened on deck; with his glass he could plainly distinguish that the stranger was a vessel of a low, raking description, evidently no merchantman, but built for sailing fast, and in all probability a privateer. the man at the mast-head reported that boats were constantly passing between the two vessels. newton, who felt very anxious for the safety of his friends, accepted the offer of the second mate to take the gig, and ascertain what was going on. in little more than an hour the gig was seen from the mast-head to arrive within half a mile of the vessels, and shortly afterwards the smoke from a gun, followed by a distant report. the gig then winded and pulled back towards the _windsor castle._ it was in a state of great excitement that newton waited for her return, when the second mate informed him that on his approach he discovered that she was a flush vessel, pierced for fourteen guns, painted black, and apparently well manned; that she evidently, to use a nautical term, was "gutting" the neutral; and that, as they had witnessed, on their boat coming within range, the vessel had fired a round of grape, which fortunately fell short of them. she had shown no colours; and from her appearance and behaviour (as all privateers respect neutrals), he had no doubt that she was the pirate vessel stated, when they were at st helena, to be cruising in these latitudes. newton was of the same opinion; and it was with a heavy heart that he returned to the cabin, to communicate the unpleasant intelligence to mrs enderby and isabel. there is nothing more annoying in this world than the will without the power. at any time, a vessel becalmed is considered a very sufficing reason for swearing by those who are on board of her. what then must have been the feelings of newton, lying on the water in a state of compelled inaction, while his friends were being plundered, and perhaps murdered by a gang of miscreants before his eyes! how eagerly and repeatedly did he scan the horizon for the coming breeze! how did hope raise her head at the slightest cat's-paw that ruffled the surface of the glassy waters! three successive gales of wind are bad enough; but three gales blowing hard enough to blow the devil's horns off are infinitely preferable to one idle, stagnant, motionless, confounded calm, oppressing you with the blue-devils and maddening you with the fidgets at one and the same time. at last, as the sun descended, the breeze sprung up, first playing along the waters in capricious and tantalising airs, as if uncertain and indifferent in its infancy to which quarter of the compass it should direct its course. the ship again answered her helm; her head was put the right way, and the sails were trimmed to every shift which it made, to woo its utmost power. in a quarter of an hour it settled, blowing from a quarter which placed them to windward of, and they carried it down with them to within two miles of the stranger and the neutral, who still remained becalmed. but, as the wind freshened, it passed a-head of them, sweeping along the surface, and darkening the colours of the water, until it reached the vessels to leeward; one of which,--the one that newton was so anxious to get alongside of,--immediately took advantage of it, and, spreading all her canvas, soon increased her distance. when the _windsor castle_ arrived abreast of the neutral, the stranger was more than two miles to leeward. a little delay was then necessary to ascertain what had occurred. newton, who perceived m. de fontanges on the deck, shouting to them and wringing his hands, rounded to, lowered down a boat, and pulled on board of the neutral. the intelligence communicated was distressing. the strange vessel was a pirate, who had plundered them of everything, had taken away madame de fontanges, mimi and charlotte, her two female attendants. the captain of the pirates had wounded and severely beaten m. de fontanges, who had resisted the "_enlevement_" of his wife; and after having cut away all the standing rigging, and nearly chopped through the masts with axes, they had finished their work by boring holes in the counter of the vessel; so that, had not newton been able to come up with her, they must all have perished during the night. there was no time to be lost; the marquis de fontanges, m. de fontanges, and the crew, were hurried on board of the _windsor castle_ (the pirate had taken care that they should not be delayed in packing up their baggage), and newton, as soon as he returned on board, and hoisted up his boat, crowded every stitch of canvas in pursuit of the pirate, who was now more than four miles distant. but, although the wind gradually increased, and was thus far in their favour, as they first benefited by it, yet, as the sun went down, so did their hopes descend. at nightfall the pirate had increased her distance to seven miles. newton pursued, watching her with a night-glass, until she could no longer be distinguished. still, their anxiety was so great, that no one went to bed on board of the _windsor castle_. when the day broke, the pirate was not to be discovered in any quarter of the horizon from the mast-head of the _windsor castle_. chapter xlix "she stood a moment as a pythoness stands on her tripod, agonised and full of inspiration gather'd from distress, when all the heart-strings, like wild horses, pull the heart asunder; then, as more or less their speed abated or their strength grew dull, she sunk down on her seat by slow degrees, and bow'd her throbbing head o'er trembling knees." byron. it was with deep regret that newton gave directions for the ship's head to be again directed on her course to england; but the property under his charge was of too great value to warrant risking it by cruising after the pirates, the superior sailing of whose vessel afforded no hopes of success. the melancholy situation of madame de fontanges threw a gloom over the party, which was communicated even to the seamen; while the anguish of m. de fontanges, expressed with all the theatrical violence characteristic of his nation, was a source of continual reminiscence and regret. they had been four days on their voyage, making little progress with the light and baffling winds, when they were shrouded in one of those thick fogs which prevail in the latitude of the cape de verds, and which was rendered more disagreeable by a mizzling rain. on the sixth day, about twelve o'clock, the horizon cleared to the northward, and the fog in that quarter was rolled away by a strong breeze which rippled along the water. newton, who was on deck, observed the direction of the wind to be precisely the reverse of the little breeze to which their sails had been trimmed; and the yards of the _windsor castle_ were braced round to meet it. the gust was strong, and the ship, laden as she was, careened over to the sudden force of it, as the top-gallant sheets and halyards were let fly by the directions of the officer of the watch. the fog, which had still continued thick to leeward, now began to clear away; and, as the bank dispersed, the marquis de fontanges, who was standing on the poop by the side of newton, cried out, "_voilà un bâtiment!_" newton looked in the direction pointed out, and discovered the hull of a vessel looming through the fog, about a quarter of a mile to leeward of the _windsor castle_. one minute's scrutiny convinced him that it was the pirate, who, not having been expeditious in trimming his sails, _laid in irons_, as seamen term it, heeling over to the blast. the _windsor castle_ was then running free, at the rate of four miles an hour. "starboard the helm--all hands to board--steady so. be smart, my lads--it's the pirate--port a little. hurrah! my lads--be quick, and she's all our own. quartermaster, my sword--quick!" the crew, who were all on deck, snatched their cutlasses from the capstern-head, in which they were inserted, and before three minutes elapsed, during which the pirate had not time to extricate himself from his difficulty, were all ready for the service. they were joined by the flemish sailors belonging to the neutral vessel, who very deliberately put their hands in their breeches-pockets, and pulled out their knives, about as long as a carpenter's two-foot rule, preferring this weapon to anything else. monsieur de fontanges, bursting with impatience, stood with newton, at the head of the men. when the collision of the two vessels took place, the _windsor castle_, conned so as not to run down the pirate, but to sheer alongside, stove in the bulwarks of the other, and carried away her topmasts, which, drawn to windward by the pressure on the back-stays, fell over towards the _windsor castle_, and, entangling with her rigging, prevented the separation of the two vessels. "no quarter, my friends!" cried monsieur de fontanges, who darted on board of the pirate vessel at the head of some men near the main-rigging, while newton and the remainder, equally active, poured down upon his quarter. such had been the rapidity of the junction, and such the impetuosity of the attack, that most of the pirates had not had time to arm themselves, which, considering the superiority of their numbers rendered the contest more equal. a desperate struggle was the result;--the attacked party neither expecting, demanding, nor receiving quarter. it was blow for blow, wound for wound, death to one or both. every inch of the deck was disputed, and not an inch obtained until it reeked with blood. the voices of newton and monsieur de fontanges, encouraging their men, were answered by another voice,--that of the captain of the pirates,--which had its due effect upon the other party, which rallied at its sound. newton, even in the hurry and excitement of battle, could not help thinking to himself that he had heard that voice before. the english seamen gained but little ground, so obstinate was the resistance. the pirates fell; but as they lay on the deck, they either raised their exhausted arms to strike one last blow of vengeance before their life's blood had been poured out, or seized upon their antagonists with their teeth in their expiring agonies. but a party, who, from the sedateness of their carriage, had hitherto been almost neutral, now forced their way into the conflict. these were the flemish seamen, with their long snick-a-snee knives, which they used with as much imperturbability as a butcher professionally employed. they had gained the main-rigging of the vessel, and, ascending it, had passed over by the catharpins, and descended, with all the deliberation of bears, on the other side, by which tranquil manoeuvre the pirates were taken in flank; and huddled as they were together, the knives of the flemings proved much more effective than the weapons opposed to them. the assistance of the flemings was hailed with a shout from the english seamen, who rallied, and increased their efforts. newton's sword had just been passed through the body of a tall, powerful man, who had remained uninjured in the front of the opposing party since the commencement of the action, when his fall discovered to newton's view the captain of the vessel, whose voice had been so often heard, but who had hitherto been concealed from his sight by the athletic form which had just fallen by his hand. what was his astonishment and his indignation when he found himself confronted by one whom he had long imagined to have been summoned to answer for his crimes--his former inveterate enemy, jackson! jackson appeared to be no less astonished at the recognition of newton, whom he had supposed to have perished on the sand-bank. both mechanically called each other by name, and both sprang forward. the blow of newton's sword was warded off by the miscreant; but at the same moment that of monsieur de fontanges was passed through his body to the hilt. newton had just time to witness the fall of jackson, when a tomahawk descended on his head; his senses failed him, and he lay among the dead upon the deck. there was a shriek, a piercing shriek, heard when newton fell. it passed the lips of one who had watched, with an anxiety too intense to be pourtrayed, the issue of the conflict;--it was from isabel, who had quitted the cabin at the crash occasioned by the collision of the two vessels, and had remained upon the poop "spectatress of the fight." there were no fire-arms used; no time for preparation had been allowed. there had been no smoke to conceal--all had been fairly presented to her aching sight. yes! there she had remained, her eye fixed upon newton forster, as, at the head of his men, he slowly gained the deck of the contested vessel. not one word did she utter; but, with her lips wide apart from intensity of feeling, she watched his progress through the strife, her eye fixed--immovably fixed upon the spot where his form was to be seen; hope buoyant, as she saw his arm raised and his victims fall--heart sinking, as the pirate sword aimed at a life so dear. there she stood like a statue--as white as beautiful--as motionless as if, indeed, she had been chiselled from the parian marble; and had it not been for her bosom heaving with the agony of tumultuous feeling, you might have imagined that all was as cold within. newton fell--all her hopes were wrecked--she uttered one wild shriek, and felt no more. after the fall of jackson, the pirates were disheartened, and their resistance became more feeble. m. de fontanges carved his way to the taffrail, and then turned round to kill again. in a few minutes the most feeble-hearted escaped below, leaving the few remaining brave to be hacked to pieces, and the deck of the pirate vessel was in possession of the british crew. not waiting to recover his breath, m. de fontanges rushed below to seek his wife. the cabin door was locked, but yielded to his efforts; and he found her in the arms of her attendants in a state of insensibility. a scream of horror at the sight of his bloody sword, and another of joy at the recognition of their master, was followed up with the assurance that madame had only fainted. m. de fontanges took his wife in his arms, and carried her on deck, where, with the assistance of the seamen, he removed her on board of the _windsor castle_, and in a short time had the pleasure to witness her recovery. their first endearments over, there was an awkward question to put to a wife. after responding to her caresses, m. de fontanges inquired, with an air of anxiety very remarkable in a frenchman, how she had been treated. "il n'y a pas de mal, mon ami," replied madame de fontanges. this was a jesuitical sort of answer, and m. de fontanges required further particulars. "elle avait temporisé" with the ruffian, with the faint hope of that assistance which had so opportunely and unexpectedly arrived. m. de fontanges was satisfied with his wife's explanation; and such being the case, what passed between jackson and madame de fontanges can be no concern of the reader's. as for mimi and charlotte, they made no such assertion; but, when questioned, the poor girls burst into tears, and, calling the captain and first lieutenant of the pirate vessel barbarians and every epithet they could think of, complained bitterly of the usage which they had received. we left newton floored (as captain oughton would have said) on the deck of the pirate vessel, and isabel in a swoon on the poop of the _windsor castle_. they were both taken up, and then taken down, and recovered according to the usual custom in romances and real life. isabel was the first to _come to_, because, i presume, a blow on the heart is not quite so serious as a blow on the head. fortunately for newton, the tomahawk had only glanced along the temple, not injuring the skull, although it stunned him, and detached a very decent portion of his scalp, which had to be replaced. a lancet brought him to his senses, and the surgeon pronounced his wound not to be dangerous, provided that he remained quiet. at first newton acquiesced with the medical adviser, but an hour or two afterwards a circumstance occurred which had such a resuscitating effect, that, weak as he was with the loss of blood, he would not resign the command of the ship, but gave his orders relative to the captured vessel, and the securing of the prisoners, as if nothing had occurred. what had contributed so much to the recovery of newton was simply this, that _somehow or another_ mrs enderby left him for a few minutes, _tête-à-tête_ with isabel revel: and, during those few minutes, _somehow or another_, a very interesting scene occurred, which i have no time just now to describe. it ended, however, _somehow or another_, in the parties plighting their troth. as i said before, love and murder are very good friends; and a chop from a tomahawk was but a prelude for the descent of love, with "healing on his wings." the _windsor castle_ lost five men killed and eleven wounded in this hard contest. three of the flemings were also wounded. the pirate had suffered more severely. out of a crew of seventy-five men, as no quarter had been given, there remained but twenty-six, who had escaped and secreted themselves below, in the hold of the vessel. these were put in irons under the half-deck of the _windsor castle_, to be tried upon their arrival in england. as i may as well dispose of them at once, they were all sentenced to death by sir william scott, who made a very impressive speech upon the occasion; and most of them were hanged on the bank of the thames. the polite valet of the marquis de fontanges hired a wherry, and escorted mademoiselles mimi and charlotte to witness the "_barbares_" dangling in their chains; and the sooty young ladies returned much gratified with their interesting excursion. it will be necessary to account for the reappearance of jackson. the reader may recollect that he made sail in the boat, leaving newton on the island which they had gained after the brig had been run on shore and wrecked. when the boat came floating down with the tide, bottom up, newton made sure that jackson had been upset and drowned; instead of which, he had been picked up by a providence schooner; and the boat having been allowed to go adrift with the main-sheet belayed to the pin, had been upset by a squall, and had floated down with the current to the sand-bank where newton was standing in the water. jackson did not return to england, but had entered on board of a portuguese slave-vessel, and continued some time employed in this notorious traffic, which tends so much to demoralise and harden the heart. after several voyages, he headed a mutiny, murdered the captain and those who were not a party to the scheme, and commenced a career of piracy, which had been very successful, from the superior sailing of the vessel, and the courage of the hardened villains he had collected under his command. chapter l "hopes, of all passions, most befriend us here; joy has her tears, and transport has her death: hope, like a cordial, innocent, tho' strong, man's heart at once inspirits and serenes; nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys, 'tis all our present state can safely bear: health to the frame and vigour to the mind, and to the modest eye, chastised delight, like the fair summer evening, mild and sweet, 'tis man's full cup--his paradise below." young. with what feelings of delight did newton forster walk the deck of the _windsor castle_, as she scudded before a fine breeze across the bay of biscay! his happiness in anticipation was so great, that at times he trembled lest the cup should be dashed from his lips; and at the same time that he thanked god for blessings received, he offered up his prayer that his prospects might not be blighted by disappointment. how happy did he feel when he escorted isabel on deck, and walked with her during the fine summer evenings, communicating those hopes and fears, recurring to the past, or anticipating the future, till midnight warned them of the rapidity with which time had flown away! the pirate vessel, which had been manned by the crew of the neutral and part of the ship's company of the _windsor castle_, under charge of the fourth mate, sailed round and round them, until at last the channel was entered, and favoured with a westerly breeze, the _windsor castle_ and her prize anchored in the downs. here mrs enderby and isabel quitted the ship, and newton received orders to proceed round to the river. before the _windsor castle_ had anchored, the newspapers were put into his hands containing a report of the two actions, and he had the gratification of acknowledging that his countrymen were not niggardly in the encomiums upon his meritorious conduct. newton presented himself to the court of directors, who confirmed his rank, and promised him the command of the first ship which was brought forward, with flattering commendations for his gallantry in protecting property of so much value. newton took his leave of the august _leaden-all_ board, and hastened to his uncle's house. the door was opened by a servant who did not know him: newton passed him, and ran up to the drawing-room, where he found amber in company with william aveleyn, who was reading to her the despatch containing the account of the action with surcoeuf. amber _sprang_ into his arms. she had grown into a tall girl of nearly fifteen, budding into womanhood and beauty: promising perfection, although not yet attained to it. william aveleyn was also nearly half a foot taller; and a blush which suffused his handsome face at being surprised alone with amber, intimated that the feelings of a man were superseding those of boyhood. "where is my mother?" inquired newton. "she is not at home, dear newton," replied amber; "she walked out with your father. they are both well." "and my uncle?" "quite well, and most anxious to see you. he talks of nobody but you, and of nothing but your actions, which we were just reading about when you came in. pray, _captain_ newton, may i inquire after your french friends? what has become of them?" "they are at sablonniere's hotel, miss amber; they have obtained their parole at the alien-office." the conversation was interrupted by the return of newton's father and mother, and shortly afterwards mr john forster made his appearance. after the first greetings and congratulations were over-- "well, newton," observed nicholas, "so you beat off a pirate, i hear." "no, my dear father, we boarded one." "ah! very true; i recollect--and you killed surcoeuf." "no, father, only beat him off." "so it was; i recollect now. brother john, isn't it almost dinner time?" "yes, brother nicholas, it is; and i'm not sorry for it. mr william aveleyn, perhaps you'd like to wash your hands? a lad's paws are never the worse for a little clean water." william aveleyn blushed: his dignity was hurt: but he had lately been very intimate at mr forster's, and he therefore walked out to comply with the recommendation. "well, brother nicholas, what have you been doing all day?" "doing all day, brother? really, i don't exactly know. my dear," said nicholas, turning to his wife, "what have i been doing all day?" "to the best of my recollection," replied mrs forster, smiling, "you have been asking when dinner would be ready." "uncle nicholas," said amber, "you promised to buy me a skein of blue silk." "did i, my dear? well, so i did, i declare. i'm very sorry--dear me, i forgot, i did buy it. i passed by a shop where the windows were full of it, and it brought it to my mind, and i did buy it. it cost--what was it, it cost?" "oh! i know what it cost," replied amber. "i gave you threepence to pay for it. where is it?" "if i recollect, it cost seven shillings and sixpence," replied nicholas, pulling out, not a skein of blue silk, but a yard of blue sarsenet. "now, papa, do look here! uncle nicholas, i never will give you a commission again. is it not provoking? i have seven shillings and sixpence to pay for a yard of blue sarsenet, which i do not want. uncle nicholas, you really are very stupid." "well, my dear, i suppose i am. i heard william aveleyn say the same, when i came into the room this morning, because--let me see--" "you heard him say nothing, uncle," interrupted amber, colouring. "yes, i recollect now--how stupid i was to come in when i was not wanted!" "humph!" said john forster; and dinner was announced. since the recognition of mrs forster by her husband, she had presided at her brother-in-law's table. the dinner provided was excellent, and was done ample justice to by all parties, especially nicholas, whose appetite appeared to increase from idleness. since newton had left england he had remained a pensioner upon his brother; and, by dint of constant exertion on the part of mrs forster, had been drilled out of his propensity of interfering with either the watch or the spectacles. this was all that was required by mr john forster; and nicholas walked up and down the house, like a tame cat, minding nobody, and nobody paying any attention to him. after dinner the ladies retired, and shortly afterwards william aveleyn quitted the room. newton thought this to be a good opportunity to acquaint his uncle with his attachment to miss revel, and the favourable result. mr john forster heard him without interruption. "very nice girl, i daresay, nephew, but you are too young to marry. you can't marry and go to sea. follow your profession, newton; speculate in opium--i'll find the means." "i trust, sir, that i should never speculate in marrying: but, had i acted on that plan, this would prove the best speculation of the two. miss revel has a very large fortune." "so much the worse: a man should never be indebted to his wife for his money--they never forget it. i'd rather you had fallen in love with a girl without a shilling." "well, sir, when i first fell in love she had not a sixpence." "humph!--well, nephew, that may be very true; but, as i said before, follow your profession." "marriage will not prevent my so doing, uncle. most captains of indiamen are married men." "more fools they! leaving their wives at home to be flattered and fooled by the lord knows who. a wife, nephew is--a woman." "i hope that mine will be one, sir," replied newton, laughing. "nephew, once for all, i don't approve of your marrying now---that's understood. it's my wish that you follow your profession. i'll be candid with you; i have left you the heir to most of my fortune; but--i can alter my will. if you marry this girl i shall do so." "alter your will, brother?" said nicholas, who had been attentive to the conversation. "why, who have you to leave your money to, except to newton?" "to hospitals--to pay off the national debt--to anything. perhaps i may leave it all to that little girl, who already has come in for a slice." "but, brother," replied nicholas, "will that be just, to leave all your money away from your family?" "just! yes, brother nicholas, quite just. a man's will is his _will_. if he makes it so as to satisfy the wishes or expectations of others, it is no longer _his will_, but theirs. nephew, as i said before, if you marry against my consent, i shall alter my will." "i am sorry, sir, very sorry, that you should be displeased with me; but i am affianced to this lady, and no worldly consideration will induce me not to fulfil an engagement upon which, indeed, my future happiness depends. i have no claim upon you, sir; on the contrary, i have incurred a large debt of gratitude, from your kind protection. anything else you would require of me--" "humph! that's always the case; anything else except what is requested. brother nicholas, do me the favour to go upstairs; i wish to speak with my nephew alone." "well, brother john, certainly, if you wish it--if you and newton have secrets;" and nicholas rose from his chair. "surely, sir," observed newton, not pleased at the abrupt dismissal of his father, "we can have no secrets to which my father may not be a party." "yes, but i have, nephew. your father is my brother, and i take the liberty with my brother, if you like that better--not with your father." in the meantime nicholas had stalked out of the room. "nephew," continued mr john forster, as the door closed, "i have stated to you my wish that you should not marry this young woman; and i will now explain my reasons. the girl left in my charge by my brother edward has become the same to me as a daughter. i intend that you shall make three or four voyages as captain of an indiaman; then you shall marry her, and become the heir to my whole fortune. now you understand me. may i ask what are your objections?" "none, sir, but what i have already stated--my attachment and engagement to another person." "is that all?" "is it not enough?" "it appears that this young woman has entered into an engagement on board ship, without consulting her friends." "she has no father, sir. she is of age, and independent." "you have done the same." "i grant it, sir; but even were i inclined, could i, in honour or honesty, retract?" "humph!" "perhaps, sir, if you were acquainted with the young lady you might not be averse to the match." "perhaps, if i saw with your eyes, i might not; but that is not likely to be the case. old men are a little blind and a little obstinate. after toiling through life to amass a fortune, they wish to have their own way of disposing of it. it is the only return they can receive for their labour. however, nephew, you will act as you please. as i said before, if you marry against my consent, i shall alter my will. now, empty the bottle, and we'll go upstairs." chapter li "and, betty, give this cheek a little red." pope. the departure of isabel in the _windsor castle_, so immediately after the death of colonel revel, prevented her communicating to her mother the alteration which had taken place in her circumstances, and her intended return to england. the first intimation received by mrs revel was from a hurried note sent on shore by a pilot-boat off falmouth, stating isabel's arrival in the channel, and her anticipation of soon embracing her mother. isabel did not enter into any particulars, as she neither had time, nor did she feel assured that the letter would ever reach its destination. the letter did however come to hand two days before isabel and mrs enderby arrived in the metropolis, much to the chagrin of mrs revel, who imagined that her daughter had returned penniless, to be a sharer of her limited income. she complained to mr heaviside, who as usual stepped in, not so much from any regard for mrs revel, but to while away the time of a _far niente_ old bachelor. "only think, mr heaviside," said the lady, who was stretched on a sofa, supported on pillows, "isabel has returned from india. here is a letter i have just received, signed by her maiden name! her sisters so well married too! surely she might have stayed out with one of them! i wonder how she got the money to pay her passage home! dear me, what shall i do with her?" "if i may be allowed to see the letter, mrs revel," said the old gentleman-- "oh, certainly, it's nothing but a note." mr heaviside read the contents. "there is very little in it indeed, mrs revel; not a word about the colonel, or why she left india. perhaps the colonel may be dead." "then she might have gone to live with one of her sisters, mr heaviside." "but perhaps he may have left her some property." "and do you, a sensible man, think that if such was the case, my daughter would not have mentioned it in her note? impossible, mr heaviside!" "she may intend to surprise you, mrs revel." "she has surprised me," replied the lady, falling back upon the pillows. "well, mrs revel, you will soon ascertain the facts. i wish you a good-morning, and will pay my devoirs in a day or two to inquire after your health, and hear what has taken place." to defray the expenses attending the "consignment" of the three miss revels to india, mrs revel had consented to borrow money, insuring her life as a security to the parties who provided it. her unprincipled husband took this opportunity of obtaining a sum which amounted to more than half her marriage settlement, as mrs revel signed the papers laid before her without examining their purport. when her dividends were become due, this treachery was discovered; and mrs revel found herself reduced to a very narrow income, and wholly deserted by her husband, who knew that he had no chance of obtaining further means of carrying on his profligate career. his death in a duel, which we have before mentioned, took place a few months after the transaction, and mrs revel was attacked with that painful disease, a cancer, so deeply seated as to be incurable. still she was the same frivolous, heartless being; still she sighed for pleasure, and to move in those circles in which she had been received at the time of her marriage. but, as her income diminished, so did her acquaintances fall off; and at the period of isabel's return, with the exception of mr heaviside and one or two others, she was suffered to pine away in seclusion. isabel was greeted with querulous indifference until the explanation of the first ten minutes; then, as an heiress, with the means as well as the desire of contributing to her mother's comforts, all was joy and congratulation. her incurable disease was for the time forgotten; and although pain would occasionally draw down the muscles of her face, as soon as the pang was over, so was the remembrance of her precarious situation. wan and wasted as a spectre, she indulged in anticipation of again mixing with the fashionable world, and talked of _chaperoning_ isabel to private parties and public amusements, when she was standing on the brink of eternity. isabel sighed as she listened to her mother, and observed her attenuated frame; occasionally she would refer to her mother's state of health, and attempt to bring her to that serious state of mind which her awful situation demanded; but in vain: mrs revel would evade the subject. before a week had passed, she had set up an equipage, and called upon many of her quondam friends to announce the important intelligence of her daughter's wealth. most of them had long before given orders not to be "at home to mrs revel." the few to whom, from the remissness of their porters, she obtained admittance, were satisfied at their servants' negligence when they heard the intelligence which mrs revel had to communicate. "they were so delighted; isabel was always such a sweet girl; hoped that mrs revel would not be such a recluse as she had been, and that they should prevail upon her to come to their parties!" an heiress is of no little consequence when there are so many younger brothers to provide for; and, before a short month had flown away, mrs revel, to her delight, found that the cards and invitations of no inconsiderable portion of the _beau monde_ covered the table of her confined drawing-room. to isabel, who perceived that her mother was sinking every day under the exertion she went through, all this was a source of deep regret. it occurred to her that to state her engagements with newton forster would have some effect in preventing this indirect suicide. she took an opportunity of confiding it to her mother, who listened to her with astonishment. "isabel! what do i hear? what! that young man who calls here so often! you, that can command a title, rank, and fashion, engage yourself to a captain of an indiaman! recollect, isabel, that now your poor father is dead, i am your legal protector; and without my permission i trust you have too much sense of filial duty to think of marrying. how you could venture to form an engagement without consulting me is quite astonishing! depend upon it, i shall not give my consent; therefore, think no more about it." how often do we thus see people, who make no scruples of neglecting their duties, as eagerly assert their responsibility, when it suits their convenience. isabel might have retorted, but she did not. in few words, she gave her mother to understand that she was decided, and then retired to dress for a splendid ball, at which, more to please her mother than herself, she had consented to be present. it was the first party of any consequence to which mrs revel had been invited. she considered it as her re-_entrée_ into the fashionable world, and the presentation of her daughter; she would not have missed it for any consideration. that morning she had felt more pain than usual, and had been obliged to have recourse to restoratives; but once more to join the gay and fashionable throng--the very idea braced her nerves, rendered her callous to suffering, and indifferent to disease. "i think," said mrs revel to her maid--"i think," said she, panting, "you may lace me a little closer, martyn." "indeed, madam, the holes nearly meet; it will hurt your side." "no, no, i feel no pain this evening--there, that will do." the lady's-maid finished her task, and left the room. mrs revel rouged her wan cheeks, and, exhausted with fatigue and pain, tottered to an easy-chair, that she might recover herself a little before she went downstairs. in a quarter of an hour isabel, who had waited for the services of martyn, entered her mother's room, to announce that she was ready. her mother, who was sitting in the chair, leaning backwards, answered her not. isabel went up to her, and looked her in the face--she was _dead_! chapter lii "my dearest wife was like this maid, and such my daughter might have been." shakespeare. the reader may be surprised at the positive and dictatorial language of mr john forster, relative to newton's marriage, as detailed in a former chapter; but, as mr john forster truly observed, all the recompense which he had to expect for a life of exertion was to dispose of the fruits of his labour according to his own will. this he felt; and he considered it unreasonable that what he supposed a boyish attachment on the part of newton was to overthrow all his preconcerted arrangements. had mr forster been able to duly appreciate the feelings of his nephew, he probably would not have been so decided; but love had never been able to establish himself as an inmate of his breast. his life had been a life of toil. love associates with idleness and ease. mr forster was kind and cordial to his nephew as before, and the subject was not again renewed; nevertheless, he had made up his mind, and having stated that he would alter his will, such was his intention, provided that his nephew did not upon mature reflection accede to his wishes. newton once more enjoyed the society of isabel, to whom he imparted all that had occurred. "i do not wish to play the prude," answered isabel, "by denying that i am distressed at your uncle's decision; to say that i will never enter into his family without having received his consent, is saying more than my feelings will bear out; but i must and will say that i shall be most unwilling so to do. we must, therefore, as madame de fontanges did with the pirate captain, _temporise_, and i trust we shall be as successful." newton, more rational than most young men in love, agreed with isabel on the propriety of the measure, and, satisfied with each other's attachment, they were by no means in a hurry to precipitate their marriage. it may be recollected that newton forster felt convinced that the contents of the trunk which he picked up at sea, when mate of the coasting vessel, was the property of the marquis de fontanges. during their passage home in the _windsor castle_, he had renewed the subject to m. de fontanges, and from the description which he gave from memory, the latter appeared to be of the same opinion. the conversation had not been revived until some time after their arrival in england, when newton, anxious to restore the articles, desired m. de fontanges to communicate with the marquis, and request that he would appoint a day upon which he would call at his uncle's and identify the property. the marquis, who had never been informed by m. de fontanges that any supposed relics of his lost wife remained, sighed at the memory of his buried happiness--buried in that vast grave, which defrauds the earth of its inherent rights--and consented to call upon the ensuing day. when the marquis arrived, accompanied by m. and madame de fontanges, he was received in the drawing-room by mr john forster, who had brought from his chamber the packet in question, which had remained locked up in the iron safe ever since newton had first committed it to his charge. after their introduction to each other, the marquis observed, in english-- "i am giving you a great deal of trouble; unavailing indeed; for, allowing that the articles should prove to be mine, the sight of them must be a source of renewed misery." "sir," replied mr john forster, "the property does not belong to my nephew, and he has very properly reserved it until he could find out the legal owner. if the property is yours, we are bound to deliver it into your hands. there is an inventory attached to it," continued the old lawyer, putting on his spectacles, and reading, "one diamond ring--but perhaps it would be better that i should open the packet." "will you permit me to look at the diamond ring, sir?" observed m. de fontanges. "the sight of that will identify the whole." "there it is, sir," replied mr john forster. "it is, indeed, that of my poor sister-in-law!" said m. de fontanges, taking it up to the marquis. "my brother, it is louise's ring!" "it is," cried the marquis, passionately, "the ring that i placed in the centre of her _corbeille de mariage_. alas! where is the hand which graced it?" and the marquis retreated to the sofa, and covered his face. "we have no occasion then to proceed further," observed mr john forster, with emotion. "the other articles you, of course, recognise?" "i do," replied monsieur de fontanges. "my brother had taken his passage in the same vessel, but was countermanded. before he had time to select all his own baggage, which was mixed with that of his wife, the ship was blown out to sea, and proceeded on her voyage. these orders of merit were left with her jewels." "i observe," said the old lawyer, "which i did not when newton entrusted the packet to my charge, that the linen has not all the same marks; that of the adult is marked l. de m., while that which belonged to the child is marked j. de f. was it the marquis's child?" "it was; the linen of the mother was some belonging to her previous to her marriage. the maiden name was louise de montmorenci; that of the child has the initials of its name, julie de fontanges." "humph! i have my reasons for asking that question," replied the old lawyer. "newton, do me the favour to step to my chambers and open the safe. you will find in it, on the right-hand side, another small bundle of linen: bring it here. stop, newton, blow the dust out of the pipe of the key before you put it in, and be careful that it is well inserted before you turn it, or you may strain the wards. in all other points, you may be as quick as you please. my lord marquis', will you allow me to offer you some refreshment?--a glass of wine will be of service. brother nicholas, do me the favour to call amber." newton and nicholas both departed on their respective missions. amber made her appearance. "papa," said amber, "do you want me?" "yes, my dear," said mr forster, handing her the keys; "go down to the cellaret and bring up some wine. i do not wish the servants to come in just now." amber reappeared with a small tray. she first handed it to the marquis, who was roused at her voice. "papa requests that you will take some wine, sir. it will be of service to you." the marquis, who had looked earnestly in her face when she had spoken, took the wine, and drinking it off, bowed as he replaced the glass. he then sunk back on the sofa. when the rap at the door announced the return of newton, mr john forster requested m. de fontanges, in a low voice, to follow him, and directing newton, whom they met on the stairs, to return, they proceeded to the dining-parlour. "i have requested you to come down, sir," said mr john forster, "that i might not, without being certain, raise hopes in your brother the marquis, which, if not realised, would create bitter feelings of disappointment; but i remarked the initials on the linen of the child; and if my memory, which is not very bad, fails me not, we shall find corresponding ones in the packet now before us;" and the old lawyer opened the bundle and displayed the contents, which proved to be marked as he had surmised. "most true," replied monsieur de fontanges. "they are the same, and of course part of the property which was picked up." "yes; but not picked up at the same time, or at the same spot, or by the same person. those above stairs were, as you know, picked up by my nephew; these by a brother, who is since dead: and in these clothes an infant was also washed upon the beach." "his child!" exclaimed monsieur de fontanges. "where was it buried?" "the child was restored to life, and is still living." "if it is," replied monsieur de fontanges, "it can be no other than the young lady who just now called you father. the likeness to madame la marquise is most astonishing." "it is as you suppose, sir," replied mr john forster. "at my brother's death, he bequeathed the little girl to my protection; and i trust i have done justice to the deposit. indeed, although an alien by blood, she is as dear to me as if she were my own daughter: and," continued the old lawyer, hesitating a little, "although i have the satisfaction of restoring her to her father's arms, it will be a heavy blow to part with her! when my brother spoke to me on the subject, i told him it was trouble and expense enough to bring up a child of one's own begetting. i little thought at the time how much more i should be vexed at parting with one of another's. however, with the bundle, she must be returned to the lawful owner. i have one more remark to make, sir. do me the favour to look at that drawing of my poor brother's, which hangs over the sideboard. do you recognise the portrait?" "triton!" cried monsieur de fontanges; "the dog which i gave my poor sister-in-law!" "you are indebted to that dog for the life of your niece. he brought her on shore, and laid her at my brother's feet; but i have all the documents, which i will send for your perusal. the facts i consider so well established as to warrant a verdict in any court of justice; and now, sir, i must leave you to make the communication as soon, and, at the same time, as cautiously as you please. newton, send amber down to me." we will pass over the scenes which followed in the dining-parlour and drawing-room. the marquis de fontanges discovered that he was blest with a daughter, at the same time that amber learnt her own history. in a few minutes amber was led upstairs to the arms of her father, whose tears of sorrow at the loss of his wife were now mingled with those of delight, as he clasped his daughter to his heart. "what obligations do i owe to your whole family, my dear friend!" said the marquis to newton. "i will not deny it, sir," replied newton; "but allow me to observe, that for the recovery of your daughter you are equally indebted to the generosity of your own relatives and your own feeling disposition. had not monsieur and madame de fontanges protected and assisted me in my distress; had not you, instead of throwing me into prison, set me at liberty, you never would have known where your daughter was to be found. had not one of my uncles hastened to the relief of the vessel in distress, and the other protected your little girl after his death, she would not have been now in existence. my gratitude for your kindness induced me to remain by your ship, and subsequently to rescue you from the pirate, or you would not have now been a prisoner in this country--an evil which, under divine providence, has been changed to a blessing, by restoring to you your daughter. we have all, i trust, done our duty, and this happy issue is our full reward." "humph!" observed the old lawyer. chapter liii "thus far our chronicle--and now we pause, though not for want of matter, but 'tis time." byron. amber, or julie de fontanges, as we must now call her, quitted the abode of her kind protector in such distress, that it was evident she regretted the discovery which had been made. she was too young to be aware of the advantages of high birth, and her removal was for some time a source of unfeigned regret. it appeared to her that nothing could compensate for the separation from her supposed father, who doted on her, from mrs forster, who had watched over her, from nicholas, who amused her, and from newton, whom she loved as a brother. but the idea of going to a foreign country, and never seeing them or william aveleyn again, and, though last, not least, to find that she was not an englishwoman, and in future must not rejoice at their victories over her own nation, occasioned many a burst of tears when left alone to her own meditations. it was long before the devotion of her father, and the fascinating attentions of m. and madame de fontanges, could induce her to be resigned to her new condition. mr john forster felt his bereavement more deeply than could have been supposed. for many days after the departure of julie, he seldom spoke, never made his appearance, except at dinner-time, and as soon as the meal was finished, hastened to his chambers, where he remained very late. intense application was the remedy which he had selected to dispel his care, and fill up the vacuum created by the absence of his darling child. "newton," said he, one evening, as they discussed a bottle of port, "have you considered what i proposed? i confess to you that i am more than ever anxious for the match; i cannot part with that dear child, and you can bring her back to me." "i have reflected, sir; but the case must be viewed in a very different light. you might affiance your adopted daughter at her early age, but the marquis de fontanges may not be so inclined; nay, further, sir, it is not impossible that he may dislike the proposed match. he is of a very noble family." "i have thought on that subject," replied mr john forster; "but our family is as well descended, and quite well enough for any frenchman, let him be a marquis, or even a duke. is that the only obstacle you intend to raise --or, if this is removed, will you again plead your attachment to another?" "it is the only one which i mean to raise at present, sir. i acknowledge julie de fontanges to be a sweet girl, and, as a relation, i have long been much attached to her." "humph!" replied the old lawyer; "i always thought you a sensible lad--we shall see." now, be it observed, that there was a certain degree of the jesuitical on the part of our friend newton on this occasion,--excusable only from his wish that the mortification of his uncle at the disappointment of his hopes should not be occasioned by any further resistance on his part. to m. de fontanges, who was aware of newton's attachment to isabel, he had, previous to the discovery which had taken place, communicated the obstacle to his union, raised by the pertinacity of his uncle. after the removal of julie, m. de fontanges acquainted his brother with the wishes of mr john forster, and explained to him how much they were at variance with those of newton. the first time that newton called upon the marquis, the latter, shaking him warmly by the hand, said,--"i have been informed, my dear newton, by my brother, of the awkward predicament in which you are placed by the wish of your uncle that you should marry my julie when she grows up. believe me, when i say it, there is no man to whom i would sooner confide the happiness of my daughter, and that no consideration would induce me to refuse you, if you really sought her hand; but i know your wishes, and your attachment to miss revel, therefore be quite easy on the subject. your uncle made his proposition when julie had no father to be consulted: the case is now different; and, for your sake, i intend, for a time, to injure myself in the opinion of your good relation. i shall assume, i trust what, if ever i had it, would be immediately sacrificed to gratitude,--i mean, high aristocratical pride; and should your uncle make the proposal, refuse it upon the grounds that you are not noble by _descent_. no one will deny your nobility on any other point. do you understand me, newton? and will my so doing be conformable to your wishes?" "it will, monsieur le marquis, and i thank you most sincerely." "then make no objection when he proposes the match a second time; leave all the obloquy on my shoulders," said the marquis, smiling. this arrangement having been made, it was not surprising that newton heard his uncle's renewal of the proposition with such calmness and apparent acquiescence. "we dine with the marquis to-morrow, newton," observed mr john forster; "i shall take an opportunity after dinner of requesting a few minutes' interview, when i shall put the question to him." "certainly, sir, if you think right," replied newton. "well, i'm glad the dear girl has changed that foolish name of amber. what could possess my brother? julie is very fine, nevertheless; but then she was christened by french people." the next day the parties met at dinner. isabel revel had been asked; and, having heard from madame de fontanges of the plan agreed upon, and anxious to see the old lawyer, she had consented to join the party. the dinner passed off as most dinners do when the viands and wines are good, and everybody is inclined to be happy. isabel was placed next to mr forster, who, without knowing who she was, felt much pleased with the deference and attention of so beautiful a young woman. "newton," said his uncle, when the ladies retired, and the gentlemen packed up their chairs, "who was that young lady who sat next to me?" "the young lady, my dear uncle, whom i did wish to introduce to you as my intended wife--miss isabel revel." "humph!--why, you never spoke to her before dinner, or paid her any common civility!" "you forget, sir, your injunctions, and--" "that's no reason, nephew, why you should forget common civility. i requested that you would not marry the young lady; but i never desired you to commit an act of rudeness. she is a very nice young person; and politeness is but a trifle, although marriage is a very serious thing." in pursuance of his plans, when the gentlemen rose, mr john forster requested a few minutes' conversation with the marquis, who, bowing politely, showed the way to a small study on the same floor. mr forster immediately stated his wish that an engagement should be formed between his nephew and julie de fontanges. "mr forster," replied the marquis, drawing up proudly, "the obligations i am under to your family are so great, that there are but few points in which i could refuse you; and i therefore am quite distressed that of this proposal i am obliged to decline the honour. you may be ignorant, mr forster, that the family of the de fontanges is one of the oldest in france; and, with every respect for you and your nephew, and all gratitude for your kindness, i cannot permit my daughter to form a _mésalliance_." "a _mésalliance!_--humph! i presume, sir, in plain english, it means marrying beneath her rank in life?" the marquis bowed. "i beg to observe, sir," said mr john forster, "that our family is a very old one. i can show you our pedigree. it has lain for some years by the side of your daughter's bundle in the iron safe." "i have no doubt of the excellence of your family, mr forster. i can only express my deep regret that it is not noble. excuse me, mr forster; except you can prove that--" "why, i could prove it by purchasing a dozen marquisates, if i thought proper!" "granted, mr forster. in our country they are to be purchased; but we make a great difference between the parvenus of the present day and the _ancienne noblesse_." "well, mr marquis, just as you please; but i consider myself quite as good as a french marquis," replied mr forster, in a tone of irritation. "better than many, i have no doubt; but still, we draw the line. noble blood, mr forster." "noble fiddlestick! monsieur le marquis, in this country, and the inhabitants are not fools, we allow money to weigh against rank. it purchases that, as it does everything else, except heaven. now, monsieur le marquis--" "excuse me, sir; no money will purchase the hand of julie de fontanges," replied the marquis. "well, then, monsieur le marquis, i should think that the obligations you are under in restoring your daughter to your arms--" "warrants your asking for her back again, mr forster?" replied the marquis, haughtily. "a labourer might find this diamond _solitaire_ that's now upon my finger. does it therefore follow that i am to make him a present of it?" "humph!" ejaculated mr forster, much affronted with the comparison. "in short, my dear sir, anything which you or your family can think of, which it is in our power to grant, will make us most happy; but to _sully_ the blood of the most ancient--" john forster would hear no more; he quitted the room and walked upstairs before the marquis had completed his speech. when he entered the drawing-room, his countenance plainly expressed his disappointment. like all men who have toiled for riches, he had formed plans, in which he considered his wealth was to command success, and had overlooked every obstacle which might present itself against the completion of his wishes. "newton," said he, as they stood apart near the window, "you have been a good lad in not persisting to thwart my views, but that french marquis, with his folly and his 'ancienne noblesse,' has overthrown all my plans. now, i shall not interfere with yours. introduce me to miss what's her name; she is a very fine girl, and from what i saw of her during dinner, i like her very much." isabel exerted herself to please, and succeeded. satisfied with his nephew's choice, flattered by his previous apparent submission, and disgusted with the marquis, mr john forster thought no more of mademoiselle de fontanges. his consent was voluntary, and in a short time isabel revel changed her name. it was about five months after newton's marriage that he received a letter from the board, appointing him to the command of a ship. newton handed the letter over to mr forster. "i presume, sir, it is your wish that i should accept the offer?" "what offer?" said the old lawyer, who was reading through a case for counsel's opinion. "_melville_--for madras and china.--why, newton, i really do not see any occasion for your going afloat again. there is an old proverb--'the pitcher that goes often to the well is broken at last.' you're not tired of your wife already?" "i hope not, sir; but i thought it might be your wish." "it's my wish that you should stay at home. a poor man may go to sea, because he stands a chance to come home rich; but a man who has money in hand, and in prospect, if he goes to sea, he is a fool. follow your profession as long as you require it, but no longer." "why, then, do you work so hard, my dear sir," said isabel, leaning over the old gentleman, and kissing him, in gratitude for his decision. "surely you can afford to relax a little now?" "why do i work so hard, isabel?" replied mr forster, looking up at her through his spectacles. "why, you expect to have a family, do you not?" isabel blushed; the expectation was undeniable. "well, then, i presume the children will have no objection to find a few thousands more to be divided among them by-and-bye--will they, daughter?" the conversation was interrupted by the entry of a servant with a letter; mr forster broke the seal, and looked at the signature. "humph! from the proud old marquis. 'very sorry, for a short period, to have fallen in your good opinion--should have rejoiced to have called newton my son-in-law! '--humph! 'family pride all assumed--newton's happiness at stake--trust the deceit will be pardoned, and a renewal of former intimacy.' why, newton, is all this true?" "ask isabel, sir," replied newton, smiling. "well, then, isabel, is all this true?" "ask newton, sir," replied isabel, kissing him. "the fact is, my dear sir, i could not afford to part with newton, even to please you, so we made up a little plot." "humph!--made up a little plot--well--i sha'n't alter my will, nevertheless;" and mr forster recommenced the reading of his brief. such is the history of newton forster, which, like most novels or plays, has been wound up with marriage. the last time that i appeared before my readers, they were dissatisfied with the termination of my story; they considered i had deprived them of "a happy marriage," to which, as an undoubted right, they were entitled, after wading through three tedious volumes. as i am anxious to keep on good terms with the public, i hasten to repair the injury which it has sustained, by stating that about three years after the marriage of newton forster, the following paragraph appeared in the several papers of the metropolis: "yesterday, by special license, the right honourable william lord aveleyn to mademoiselle julie de fontanges, only daughter of the marquis de fontanges, late governor of the island of bourbon. the marriage was to have been solemnised in december last, but was postponed, in consequence of the death of the late lord aveleyn. after the ceremony, the happy couple," &c. sec. &c. * * * * * and now, most arbitrary public, i consider that i have made the _amende honorable_, and that we are quits; for, if you were minus a happy marriage in the last work, you have a couple to indemnify you in the present. the end