Фредерик Марриет
Poor Jack
"Well, father, I hope I may be able to save more than seven shillings before I die; but no one knows. I have made my decision as I think for the best, and we must leave the rest to Providence. We never know whether we do right or wrong."
"Never, Jack; things which promise well turn out bad, and things which look very bad often turn out just as well. I recollect an instance which was told me, which I'll give you as a proof that we never know what is best for us in this world. A man may plan, and scheme, and think in his blindness that he has arranged everything so nicely that nothing can fail, and down he lies on his bed and goes to sleep quite satisfied that affairs must turn out well as he has ordered them, forgetting that Providence disposes as it thinks fit. There was a gentleman by birth, of the name of Seton, who lived at Greenock; he was very poor, and although he had high friends and relations well-to-do, he was too proud to ask for assistance. His wife was equally proud; and at last one day he died, leaving her with hardly a penny, and two fine boys of the names of Archibald and Andrew. Well, the widow struggled on, how she lived no one knew, but she fed the boys and herself, and was just as stately as ever. Her relations did offer to educate the boys and send them to sea, but she refused all assistance. There was a foundation or chartered school at Greenock, to which she was entitled to send her children to be educated without expense, and to that school they went. I don't know why, but they say the master had had a quarrel with their father when he was alive, and the master had not forgotten it now he was dead, and in consequence he was very severe upon these two boys, and used to beat them without mercy; at all events it did them good, for they learned faster than any of the others who were at all favored, and they soon proved the best boys in the school. Well, time ran on till Archibald was thirteen and Andrew twelve years old, and, being very tired of school, they asked their mother what profession they were to be of, and she answered, 'Anything except going to sea, for there you will never get on.' But times became harder with the widow; she had not enough to give the boys to eat, and they complained bitterly; but it was of no use, so they got on how they could, until one day Archy says to Andrew, 'Why, brother, we have nothing but ferrule for breakfast, dinner, and supper, and I see little chance of our getting anything more. Mother, poor soul! has not enough for herself to eat, and she very often gives us her dinner and goes without. I can't stand it any longer; what shall we do? shall we seek our fortunes?'
"'Yes,' says Andrew, 'and when we are gone mother will have enough for herself.'
"'Well, they say anything is better than going to sea, but I don't know how we can do anything else.'
"'Well, Archy, going to sea may be the worst of all, but it's better than taking the victuals out of poor mother's mouth.'
"'That's very true, so we'll be off, Andrew.'
"They walked down to the pier, and then they fell in with the captain of a vessel going foreign, and they asked him whether he wanted any boys on board.
"'Why,' says he, 'I wouldn't care, but you've never been to sea before.'
"'No,' said Archy; 'but there must be a beginning to everything.'
"'Well,' said the captain, 'I suppose you've run away from your friends, and, as I can't get apprentices now, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll take you on board, and as soon as we get round to another port in the Channel, I'll bind you as apprentices for three years. Will you agree to that?'
"The boys said 'yes,' and the captain told them that he should sail the next morning about daylight, and that they must be down at the pier by that time; so they went back again to their mother, and said nothing about what had passed. There was no supper that night, which confirmed them in their resolution. They kissed their mother, and went up to bed, packed up all their clothes, and before she was downstairs the next morning they were on board of the vessel.
"Well, they were duly apprenticed when the ship arrived at Weymouth, and then off they went. The other men on board were, as usual, very much afraid of being pressed, and every plan was hit upon for stowing away when they were boarded by a man-of-war. Well, time passed, and after many voyages they had both nearly served their time. They were tall, stout young men, and looked older than they really were. At last, one day, when off the Western Isles, they were boarded by a frigate, and the officer who came in the boat asked Archy what he was, and he replied he was an apprentice.
"'You an apprentice!' cried he; 'that won't do.'
"'But here are the indentures.'
"'All forged,' cried the officer; 'just get into the boat, my lad.' (You see that's a very common trick of officers; if a boy's grown up and fit for service, they don't care about indentures.) Well, Archy found it was of no use, so he gets his kit and steps into the boat, shaking hands with Andrew, who was shedding tears at the thoughts of parting with his brother.
"'It's no use crying, Andrew,' says he; 'I might have been second mate in three months, as the captain promised me when my time was up, and then I should have been protected, and might have risen from mate to captain; but now it's all over with me. May you have better luck, and I hope the captain will give you the berth instead of me.' Well, away went Archy on board of the man-of-war, looking very gloomy, as you may suppose. When he went aft on the quarter-deck the captain asked him his name and where he came from.
"'Ah,' said the captain, 'and who are your friends? So Archy told him that he had only his mother left. The captain asked him a good many more questions as to whether he had been educated or not, and what he knew, and then rated him A.B., and put him into the maintop. Well, Archie remained there for about six months, and found that a man-of-war was not so bad a place after all; and he was well treated by the captain and officers, the more so as he was a good scholar. After the cruise was over the frigate ran into the Channel, and anchored in Portland Roads, where there were a great many vessels wind-bound. As usual, they sent round to press the men. Now Archy was one of those sent in the boats, and by this time, being a man-of-war's man all over, he was just as eager to get the men as the others were. They boarded several vessels, and got some men; about dark they boarded one which laid well in the offing. The captain was not on board, and the men were turned up, but they were very few, and all protected. Now Archy, who was up to the hiding-places on board a merchant vessel, goes down with his cutlass, and crawls about in the dark, until at last he gets hold of a man by the heels. 'Come out, you thief,' cries he, 'come out directly, or I'll give you an inch of my cutlass;' so the man, finding that he could not help himself, backs out, stern foremost. Archy collars him and takes him on deck, when who should it prove to be but his own brother Andrew!
"'Oh, Archy, Archy, I didn't think this of you!'
"'Well, Andrew, I didn't know it was you, but there's no help for it; you must come and serve in the maintop along with me, and give up all chance of being a mate or captain of a merchant vessel. We're in bad luck, that's clear, but it can't be helped.' There was a good laugh on board of the man-of-war at Archy pressing his own brother, and the captain was very much amused. 'I'm very sorry for it,' said Archy.
"Now the captain was short of midshipmen, and, being obliged to sail immediately, he determined to put Archy on the quarter-deck, and so he did, while Andrew served in the maintop. But this did not last long. The captain, who liked Andrew quite as well, and who knew their family and connections, put Andrew also on the quarter-deck; and what was the consequence? Why, they are now both post-captains, commanding fine frigates. So you see, going on board of a man-of-war, which they conceived as their ruin, was the means of their rising to rank and riches, for they have been very lucky in the service. I heard Captain Archibald tell the story himself one day as I helped at dinner in the cabin when I was coxswain with Sir Hercules."
"Well, father, that's a good story to the point, but I do not see that I ever have any chance of being a post-captain."
"Don't seem much like it, certainly; but you've a good chance of being a pilot."
"Yes, that I certainly have; and a pilot is always respected, go on board what ship he may."
"To be sure he is, because he is supposed to have more knowledge than any one on board."
"Then I am contented, father, with the prospect of being respectable; so there's an end of that business, except that I must write and thank the captain for his kindness."
"Just so, Tom. Do you dine with me?"
"No, father. I promised to meet Bramble at the 'Jolly Sailors.' We are going up to Mr. Wilson's."
"Ay, about the farm he wants to buy. Well, the clock is striking, so good-by till this evening."
I must explain to the reader that Mr. Wilson, having heard of Bramble's intention to purchase the farm, very kindly interfered. He had a son who was a solicitor at Dover, and he recommended Bramble not to appear personally, but let his son manage the affair for him, which he promised should be done without expense. The next morning Bramble and I took our leave and quitted Greenwich, taking the coach to Dover; for Bramble, having a good deal of money in his pocket, thought it better to do so than to wait till he could take a ship down the river. On our arrival at Dover we called upon Mr. Wilson's son, who had already made inquiries, and eventually obtained the farm for Bramble for two hundred pounds less than he expected to give for it, and, very handsomely, only charged him for the stamps of the conveyance. When we arrived at Deal we found Mrs. Maddox quite recovered, and sitting with little Bessy in the parlor below.
After Mrs. Maddox and Bessy went upstairs to bed, Bramble said to me, as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, "Tom, I've got this farm for Bessy for two hundred pounds less than I expected to give for it. Now, I've been thinking about this two hundred pounds, which I consider in a manner as her property, and what d'ye think I mean to do with it? I'll tell you. I'll give her education as well as money. This sum will keep her at a good school for a matter of four years, and I've made up my mind that she shall go. I don't like to part with her, that's certain; but it's for her good, so all's right. Don't you think so?"
"I do, indeed, father," replied I. "I shall miss her as much as you do; but, as you say, it's all right, and I'm very glad that you have so decided."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
In which there is a Hop, Skip, and a Jump.
Life has often, and with great truth, been compared to a river. In infancy a little rill, gradually increasing to the pure and limpid brook, which winds through flowery meads, "giving a gentle kiss to every ridge it overtaketh in its pilgrimage." Next it increases in its volume and its power, now rushing rapidly, now moving along in deep and tranquil water, until it swells into a bold stream, coursing its way over the shallows, dashing through the impeding rocks, descending in rapids swift as thought, or pouring its boiling water over the cataract. And thus does it vary its velocity, its appearance, and its course, until it swells into a broad expanse, gradually checking its career as it approaches, and at last mingles with the ocean of Eternity. I have been led into this somewhat trite metaphor, to account to the reader for the contents of this chapter. As in the river, after many miles of checkered and boisterous career, you will find that its waters will for some time flow in a smooth and tranquil course as almost to render you unconscious of the never-ceasing stream; so in the life of man, after an eventful and adventurous career, it will be found that for a time he is permitted to glide gently and quietly along, as if a respite were given to his feelings preparatory to fresh scenes of excitement. Such was the case with me for some time. I had now been under Bramble's tuition for more than a year and a half, and was consequently between fifteen and sixteen years old. The years from 1800 to the end of 1804 were of this description in my stream of life, unmarked by any peculiar or stirring events worthy of occupying the attention of my readers. It is therefore my intention, in this chapter, to play the part of the chorus in the old plays, and sum up the events in few words, so as not to break the chain of history, at the same time that I shall prepare my readers for what subsequently took place.
I will first speak of myself. Up to the age of nineteen I continued my career under the care of Bramble; we seldom remained long on shore, for neither Bramble nor I found home so agreeable since little Bessy had been sent to school, and Mrs. Maddox, assisted by a little girl, had charge of the house; indeed, Bramble appeared resolved to make all the money he could, that he might the sooner be able to give up his profession. Mrs. Maddox I have spoken little of, because I had seen but little of her; now that she was downstairs, I will not say I saw, but I certainly heard too much of her, for she never ceased talking; not that she talked loud or screamed out—on the contrary, she was of a mild amiable temper, but could not hold her tongue. If she could not find any one to talk to she would talk to any thing; if she was making the fire she would apostrophize the sticks for not burning properly. I watched her one morning as she was kneeling down before the grate:
"Now, stick, you must go in," said she; "it's no use your resisting, and what's more, you must burn, and burn quickly too—d'ye hear? or the kettle won't boil in time for breakfast. Be quick, you little fellow—burn away and light the others, there's a good boy." Here she knocked down the tongs. "Tongs, be quiet; how dare you make that noise?" Then, as she replaced them, "Stand up, sir, in your place until you are wanted. Now, poker, your turn's coming, we must have a stir directly. Bless me, smoke, what's the matter with you now? can't you go up the chimney? You can't pretend to say the wind blows you down this fine morning, so none of your vagaries. Now, fender, it's your turn—stand still till I give you a bit of a rub. There, now you're all right. Table, you want your face washed—your master has spilled his grog last night—there now, you look as handsome as ever. Well, old chair, how are you this morning? You're older than I am, I reckon, and yet you're stouter on your legs. Why, candle, are you burning all this while? Why didn't you tell me? I would have put you out long ago. Come, now, don't be making a smell here—send it up the chimney."
Thus would she talk to everything. We only had two animals in the house—a cat and a canary bird: of course they were not neglected, but somehow or another the cat appeared to get tired of it, for it would rise and very gently walk into the back kitchen; and as for the canary bird, like all other canary birds, as soon as he was talked to be would begin to sing, and that so loud that Mrs. Maddox was beaten out of the field. Bramble bore with her very well, but at the same time he did not like it: he once said to me, "Well, if Bessy were at Deal, I think I would take a short spell now; but as for that poor good old soul, whose tongue is hung on the middle and works at both ends, she does tire one, and that's the truth." But she really was a good-natured, kind creature, ready to oblige in everything; and I believe that she thought that she was amusing you when she talked on in this way. Unfortunately she had no anecdote, for she had a very bad memory, and therefore there was nothing to be gained from her. By way of amusing me, she used to say, "Now, Tom, sit down here, and I'll tell you all about my bad leg." And then she would commence with the first symptoms, the degrees of pain, the various plasters, bandages, and poultices which had been applied, and what the doctor had said this day and that day. I bore this very patiently for four or five times; but at last, after several days of increasing impatience (somewhere about the fifteenth time, I believe), I could stand it no more, so I jumped off my chair and ran away just as she commenced the interesting detail.
"Mrs. Maddox," said I, "I cannot bear to hear of your sufferings; pray never mention them again."
"What a kind-hearted creature you are!" said she. "Well, I won't, then. It's not many who have such pity in them. Cotton, where have you got to—always running away? One would think you don't like to be knitted. Now, cotton, don't be foolish; where have you hid yourself? You make others as bad as yourself. Scissors have got away now—there now, sit on my lap and be quiet."
However, if Mrs. Maddox got back cotton and scissors, she did not get me back, for I bolted out of the front door, and joined the men who were lolling against the gunnel of a galley hauled up on the shingle.
During the period of which I am speaking, I continued every day to add to my knowledge of my profession, and eventually I was competent to pass my examination at the Trinity House. When I went on board a vessel with Bramble, he would often give me charge of her, never interfering with me (although he watched me carefully) unless he considered that it was absolutely necessary, which I believe took place but twice. He used to tell the masters of the vessels that I was quite as good a pilot as he was, which certainly was not quite correct; however, it was of great consequence to me, as it gave me that confidence so necessary in my profession, and in due time I passed for a river pilot at the Trinity House. Some alteration occurred at the hospital during this interval. Anderson had been promoted from boatswain of the ward to inspecting boatswain, a place of trust, with very comfortable emoluments, his weekly allowance being increased to five shillings; and on his promotion my father was made a boatswain's mate of the Warriors' Ward. This was at first satisfactory to my mother, who was pleased that my father should wear lace upon his pensioner's coat; but, as she advanced in the world, she did not like the idea of my father being in the hospital, nor did she want him to be at her house—in fact, she could have done better without him; but as that could not be she made the best of it. It must be acknowledged that my father's boisterous and rude manner had been softening down ever since he had been in the hospital, and that he had become a very well-behaved, quiet, and sober person, and was very respectable in his appearance; but I shall say more about him when I talk of my mother again. Old Nanny went on much as usual, but on the whole she improved. I used to pick up for her anything I could, and put it in a large bag which I occasionally brought to Greenwich, and this bag, with its multifarious contents, would give her more pleasure than if I had brought her any single object more valuable. Old Anderson used to call upon her occasionally, but he did not do her much good. She appeared to think of hardly anything but getting money. She was always glad to see me, and I believe thought more of me than anybody else in the world, and I seldom failed to pay her a visit on the first day of my arrival.
Dr. Tadpole and his apprentice Tom went on pretty well together until the hundredweight of liquorice was expended, and then there was a fresh rising on the part of the injured and oppressed representative of the lower orders, which continued till a fresh supply from London appeased his radical feelings which had been called forth, and then the liquorice made everything go on smoothly as before; but two years afterward Tom was out of his time, and then the doctor retained him as his assistant, with a salary added to his board, which enabled Tom to be independent of the shop, as far as liquorice was concerned, and to cut a very smart figure among the young men about Greenwich; for on Tom's promotion another boy was appointed to the carrying out of the medicine as well as the drudgery, and Tom took good care that this lad should clean his boots as well as the doctor's, and not make quite so free with the liquorice as he had done himself. I found out also that he had cut Anny Whistle.
Mrs. St. Felix continued to vend her tobacco, and I never failed seeing her on my visits to Greenwich. She appeared to look just as young as she did when I first knew her, and every one said that there was no apparent alteration. She was as kind and as cheerful as ever; and I may as well here remark that during this period a great intimacy had grown up between her and my sister Virginia, very much to the annoyance of my mother, who still retained her feelings of ill-will against Mrs. St. Felix—why, I do not know, except that she was so good-looking a person, and such a favorite with everybody. But my father, who, when he chose, would not be contradicted, insisted upon Virginia's being on good terms with Mrs. St. Felix, and used to take her there himself; and Virginia, who had never forgotten the widow's kindness to me, was extremely partial to her, and was much more in her company than my mother had any idea of, for Virginia would not vex my mother unnecessarily by telling her she had been with the widow unless she was directly asked.
It was about four months after my father and I had given our money to my mother that I returned to Greenwich. A letter from Virginia had acquainted me with the street and the number of the house which my mother had taken, and I therefore walked from the beach right to it; and I must say that when I came to the new abode I was very much surprised at its neat and even handsome appearance. The ground-floor was fitted up as a shop with large panes of glass, and inside upon stands were arranged a variety of bonnets and caps, set off with looking-glass and silk curtains, in the arrangement of which no little taste was displayed. Behind the show goods was a curtain hanging on a brass rod, drawn so as to conceal the workpeople who were within. There was a private door as well as a shop door, and I hardly knew which I was to go in at; however, as the shop door required no knocking, I went into that, and found myself in the company of eight young damsels, very busy at their needles, sitting on each side of a long table covered with half-made dresses. I inquired of them whether my mother was at home, and was answered by one, who was apparently the eldest, that she was down below getting the breakfast ready.
"I suppose," continued she, "you are Mr. Tom Saunders, the pilot?"
"I suppose I am," replied I; "and pray who are you?"
"I am Miss Amelia Gozlin, apprentice to Mrs. Saunders, milliner—at your service, sir; and, in consequence of my being so very quiet and sedate, I have charge of all these young ladies you see with me."
Here the others burst into a laugh.
"They are in very good hands, Miss Amelia," replied I, "and under your care, and with your example, I have no doubt but they will turn out very useful members of society."
"Thank you, sir; but allow me to say that I cannot permit young men, especially such enchanting young men as Mr. Tom Saunders, to remain here; as, if I do, your amiable mother would give me what is genteelly termed a wigging; so if you will be pleased, sir, just to remove yourself from our presence," continued she, with a mock courtesy, "and not make your appearance here again until you are certain your mother is gone out, you will oblige us very much."
I obeyed the wishes of Miss Amelia Gozlin, who certainly was a very handsome girl, with fine black eyes, apparently about fifteen years old. I walked into the passage, and found my way down into the kitchen, where my mother and Virginia were employed as they had told me above. My mother received me kindly, but said little, for she appeared to be fully occupied; and Virginia had no time to dedicate to me until the breakfast was ready, when she called the apprentices, and we all sat down together, Miss Amelia and her companions looking so demure, that, if I had not seen them before, I should have thought that they could not speak.
After breakfast was over Virginia showed me the house. The first floor was to let furnished, the second was occupied by my mother and Virginia, and the attics were appropriated to the apprentices. Everything appeared clean, neat, and well arranged, and I could not imagine how my mother had contrived to do so much with so little money; but Virginia told me that she thought Mr. Wilson had assisted her.
When I returned, which might have been in six months, I found a great improvement, and every appearance of my mother succeeding well in her speculations. She had now a maid-servant, and her apprentices were increased to twelve, and there was every appearance of brisk and full employment.
In 1803 I found that Virginia, who was then fourteen years old, had left school. She had told my mother that, during the last half-year, she had only repeated over again what she had learned the half-year before, and that she thought she could employ her time better at home in assisting her. My mother was of the same opinion, and Virginia now superintended the cutting-out department, and was very useful. She said that the increase of business had been very great, and that my mother could hardly execute the orders which she received. There were now two servants in the house, and additional workwomen. My mother also had very much altered in appearance: before, she was usually clean and neat, now she was well if not elegantly dressed, and appeared much younger and better looking. I must do her the justice to say that prosperity had not spoiled but improved her: she was more kind and more cheerful every time that I went to see her; and I may add that, with the exception of a little necessary castigation to Miss Amelia and her companions, she never scolded, and was kind to her servants. The last year she had been even more successful, and was now considered the first milliner in the town. I believed that she deserved her reputation, for she had a great deal of taste in dress; and when she had gone upstairs to decorate previous to the hour of arrival of her customers, and came down in a handsome silk dress and an elegant morning cap, I would often look at her with surprise, and say to myself, "Who would think that this was my mother, who used to shove the broom at me in the little parlor at Fisher's Alley?"
The reader may inquire how my father and mother got on after such an alteration in her circumstances. I can only reply that they got on better than they did before; for my mother, who did not wish my father's company in the house, pointed out to him that, with so many young people living with her, it would be very inconvenient if he came there in the evenings to smoke his pipe, and that it would be better if he could smoke and drink his beer anywhere else. My father perceived the propriety of this, and assented with a good grace: my mother was very liberal to him, and he was now enabled, when he chose, to ask a companion or two to join him, so that it suited both parties. My father, therefore, never came to the house, except after the hospital supper, when he remained a few minutes to see Virginia, and then departed. On Sundays he spent the whole day there, and was kindly welcomed, but he always left in the evening to smoke his pipe elsewhere. As for me, when I did come I was always kindly received, and slept in a spare bed on the same floor with my mother and Virginia. Before my time was out I was too well supplied by Bramble ever to want anything, and afterward I made plenty of money, and seldom came home without bringing a present both to my mother and Virginia.
Having thus given a general outline of affairs, I shall in the next chapter enter more minutely into some particulars, without which the detail of events will not be complete.
