the sea-shore, just a quarter of a mile out of Dover, towards
Shakespeare's Cliff. My father was a fisherman by profession, and a
smuggler by practice, all was fish that came to his net; but his cottage
was small, he was supposed to be very poor, and a very bad fisherman,
for he seldom brought home many; but there was a reason for that, he
very seldom put his nets overboard. His chief business lay in taking out
of vessels coming down Channel, goods which were shipped and bonded for
exportation, and running them on shore again. You know, Bob, that there
are many articles which are not permitted to enter even upon paying
duty, and when these goods, such as silks, &c., are seized or taken in
prizes, they are sold for exportation. Now, it was then the custom for
vessels to take them on board in the river, and run them on shore as
they went down Channel, and the fishing-boats were usually employed for
this service; my father was a well-known hand for this kind of work, for
not being suspected he was always fortunate; of course, had he once
been caught, they would have had their eyes upon him after he had
suffered his punishment. Now the way my father used to manage was this,
there was a long tunnel drain from some houses used as manufactories,
about a hundred yards above his cottage, which extended out into the sea
at low water mark, and which passed on one side of our cottage. My
father had cut from a cellar in the cottage into the drain, and as it
was large enough for a man to kneel down in, he used to come in at low
water with his coble, and make fast the goods, properly secured from the
wet and dirt in tarpaulin bags, to a rope, which led from the cellar to
the sea through the drain. When the water had flowed sufficiently to
cover the mouth of the drain, he then threw the bags overboard, and,
securing the boat, went to the cottage, hauled up the articles, and
secured them too; d'ye understand? My father had no one to assist him
but my brother, who was a stout fellow, seven years older than myself,
and my mother, who used to give a helping hand when required; and thus
did he keep his own counsel, and grow rich; when all was right, he got
his boat over into the harbour, and having secured her, he came home as
innocent as a lamb. I was then about eight or nine years old, and went
with my father and brother in the coble, for she required three hands,
at least, to manage her properly, and like a tin-pot, although not very
big, I was very useful. Now it so happened that my father had notice
that a brig, lying in Dover harbour, would sail the next day, and that
she had on board of her a quantity of lace and silks, purchased at the
Dover custom-house for exportation, which he was to put on shore again
to be sent up to London. The sending up to London we had nothing to do
with; the agent at Dover managed all that; we only left the articles at
his house, and then received the money on the nail. We went to the
harbour, where we found the brig hauling out, so we made all haste to
get away before her. It blew fresh from the northward and eastward, and
there was a good deal of sea running. As we were shoving out, the
London agent, a jolly little round-faced fellow, in black clothes, and a
bald white head, called to us, and said that he wanted to board a vessel
in the offing, and asked whether we would take him. This was all a ruse,
as he intended to go on board of the brig with us to settle matters, and
then return in the pilot boat. Well, we hoisted our jib, drew aft our
foresheet, and were soon clear of the harbour; but we found that there
was a devil of a sea running, and more wind than we bargained for; the
brig came out of the harbour with a flowing sheet, and we lowered down
the foresail to reef it--father and brother busy about that, while I
stood at the helm, when the agent said to me, 'When do you mean to make
a voyage?' 'Sooner than father thinks for,' said I, 'for I want to see
the world.' It was sooner than I _thought for_ too, as you shall hear.
As soon as the brig was well out, we ran down to her, and with some
difficulty my father and the agent got on board, for the sea was high
and cross, the tide setting against the wind; my brother and I were left
in the boat to follow in the wake of the brig; but as my brother was
casting off the rope forward, his leg caught in the bight, and into the
sea he went; however, they hauled him on board, leaving me alone in the
coble. It was not of much consequence, as I could manage to follow
before the wind under easy sail, without assistance: so I kept her in
the wake of the brig, both of us running nearly before it at the rate of
five miles an hour, waiting till my father should have made up his
packages, of a proper size to walk through the tunnel drain.
"The Channel was full of ships, for the westerly winds had detained them
for a long time. I had followed the brig about an hour, when the agent
went on shore in a pilot boat, and I expected my father would soon be
ready; then the wind veered more towards the southward, with dirt; at
last it came on foggy, and I could hardly see the brig, and as it rained
hard, and blew harder, I wished that my father was ready, for my arms
ached with steering the coble for so long a while. I could not leave
the helm, so I steered on at a black lump, as the brig looked through
the fog: at last the fog was so thick that I could not see a yard beyond
the boat, and I hardly knew how to steer. I began to be frightened,
tired, and cold, and hungry I certainly was. Well, I steered on for more
than an hour, when the fog cleared up a little, and then I saw the stern
of the brig just before me. My little heart jumped with delight; and I
expected that she would round-to immediately, and that my father would
praise me for my conduct; and, what was still more to the purpose, that
I should get something to eat and drink. But no: she steered on right
down Channel, and I followed for more than an hour more, when it came on
to blow very hard, and I could scarcely manage the boat--she pulled my
little arms off, and I was quite exhausted. The weather now cleared up,
and I could make out the vessel plainly; and I immediately discovered
that it was not the _brig_, but a bark which I had got hold of in the
fog, so that I did not know what to do; but I did as most boys of nine
years old would have done who were frightened, I sat down and cried,
still, however, keeping the tiller in my hand and steering as well as I
could. At last, I could hold it no longer, I ran forward, let go the
fore and jib haulyards and hauled down the sails; drag them into the
boat I could not, and there I was, like a young bear adrift in a
washing-tub. I looked all round me, and there were no vessels near; the
bark had left me two miles astern, it was blowing a gale from the S.E.,
with a heavy sea; the gulls and sea birds wheeled and screamed in the
storm; and as I thought, when they came close to me, looked at me with
their keen eyes, as much as to say, 'What the devil are you doing
there?' The boat was as light as a cork, and although she was tossed and
rolled about so that I was obliged to hold on, she shipped no water of
any consequence, for the jib in the water forward had brought her head
to wind, and acted as a sort of floating anchor. At last there was
nothing in sight, so I laid down at the bottom of the boat and fell
asleep. It was daylight before I awoke, and then I got up and looked
round me--it blew harder than ever; and, although there were some
vessels at a distance, scudding before the gale, they did not mind, or
perhaps see me. I sat very melancholy the whole day, the tears ran down
my cheeks, my eyes were full of salt from the spray--I saw at last
nothing but the roaring and trembling waves. I prayed every prayer I
knew, that is, I said the Lord's Prayer, the Belief, and as much of the
Catechism as I could recollect. It rained in torrents--I was wet,
starving, and miserably cold. At night I again fell asleep from
exhaustion. The morning broke again, and the sun shone, the gale was
breaking off, and I felt more cheered; but I was now ravenous from
hunger, as well as choking from thirst, and I was so weak that I could
scarcely stand. I looked round me every now and then, and lay down
again. In the afternoon I saw a large vessel standing right for me; this
gave me courage and strength. I stood up and waved my hat, and they saw
me--the sea was still running very high, but the wind had gone down. She
rounded-to so as to bring me under her lee. Send a boat she could not,
but the sea bore her down upon me, and I was soon close to her. Men in
the chains were ready with ropes, and I knew that this was my only
chance. At last, a very heavy sea bore her right down upon the boat,
lurching over on her beam ends, her main chains struck the boat and sent
her down, while I was seized by the scuff of the neck by two of the
seamen, and borne aloft by them as the vessel returned to the
weather-roll. They hauled me in, and I was safe. It was neck or nothing
with me then; wasn't it, Bob?"
"It was, indeed, a miraculous escape, Cockle." "Well, as soon as they
had given me something to eat, I told my story;--and it appeared that
she was an East Indiaman running down Channel, and not likely to meet
with anything to send me back again. The passengers, especially the
ladies, were very kind to me: and as there was no help for it, why, I
took my first voyage to the _East Indies_."
"And your father and your brother?"
"Why, when I met them, which I did about six years afterwards, I found
that they had been in much the same predicament, having lost the coble,
and the weather being so bad that they could not get on shore again. As
there was no help for it, they took their first voyage to the _West
Indies_; so there was a dispersion of a united family--two went west,
one went east, coble went down, and mother, after waiting a month or
two, and supposing father dead, went off with a soldier. All dispersed
by one confounded gale of wind from the northward and eastward, so
that's the way that I went to sea, Bob. And now it's time that Moonshine
was back."
But Moonshine kept us waiting for some time: when he returned it was
then quite dark, and we had lighted candles, anxiously waiting for him;
for not only was the bottle empty, but we were very hungry. At last we
heard a conversation at the gate, and Moonshine made his appearance with
the two bottles of spirits, and appeared himself to be also in high
spirits. The pork and peas pudding soon were on the table. We dined
heartily, and were sitting over the latter part of the first bottle in
conversation, it being near upon the eleventh hour, when we heard a
noise at the gate--observed some figures of men, who stayed a short time
and then disappeared. The door opened, and Moonshine went out. In a few
seconds he returned, bringing in his arms an anker of spirits, which he
laid on the floor, grinning so wide that his head appeared half off.
Without saying a word, he left the room and returned with another.
"Why, what the devil's this?" cried Cockle.
Moonshine made no answer, but went out and in until he had brought six
ankers in, one after another, which he placed in a row on the floor. He
then shut the outside door, bolted it, came in, and seating himself on
one of the tubs, laughed to an excess which compelled him to hold his
sides; during which Cockle and I were in a state of astonishment and
suspense.
"Where the devil did all this come from?" cried Cockle, actually getting
out of his easy chair. "Tell me, sir, or by----"
"I tell you all, Massa Cockle:--you find me better friend dan Missy
O'Bottom. Now you ab plenty, and nebber need scold Moonshine 'pose he
take lilly drap. I get all dis present to you, Massa Cockle."
I felt a great degree of anxiety, and pressed Moonshine to tell his
story.
"I tell you all, sar. When I come back wid de two bottel I meet plenty
men wid de tubs: dey say, 'Hollo there, who be you?' I say, 'I come from
station; bring massa two bottel, and I show um.' Den dey say, 'Where you
massa?' and I say, 'At um house at Ryde'--(den dey tink dat you my
massa, Massa Farren)--so dey say, 'Yes, we know dat, we watch him dere,
but now you tell, so we beat you dead.' Den I say, 'What for dat; massa
like drink, why you no gib massa some tub, and den he never say noting,
only make fuss some time, 'cause of Admirality.' Den dey say, 'You sure
of dat?' and I say, 'Quite sure massa nebber say one word.' Den dey talk
long while; last, dey come and say, 'You come wid us and show massa
house.' So two men come wid me, and when dey come to gate I say, 'Dis
massa house when he live at Ryde, and dere you see massa;'--and I point
to Massa Cockle, but dey see Massa Farren--so dey say, 'All very good;
tree, four hour more, you find six tub here; tell you massa dat every
time run tub, he alway hab six;' den dey go way, den dey come back,
leave tub; dat all, massa."
"You rascal!" exclaimed I, rising up, "so you have compromised me; why I
shall lose my commission if found out."
"No, sar; nobody wrong but de smuggler; dey make a lilly mistake; case
you brought to court-martial, I gib evidence, and den I clear you."
"But what must we do with these tubs, Cockle?" said I, appealing to him.
"Do, Bob?--why, they are a present--a very welcome one, and a very
handsome one into the bargain. I shall not _keep_ them, I pledge you my
word; let that satisfy you--they shall all be _fairly entered_."
"Upon that condition, Cockle," I replied, "I shall of course not give
information against you." (I knew full well what he meant by saying he
would not _keep_ them.)
"How I do, Massa Cockle," said Moonshine, with a grave face; "I take um
to the custom-house to-night or to-morrow marning."
"To-morrow, Moonshine," replied Cockle; "at present just put them out of
sight."
I did not think it prudent to make any further inquiries; but I
afterwards discovered that the smugglers, true to their word, and still
in error, continued to leave six tubs in old Cockle's garden whenever
they succeeded in running a cargo, which, notwithstanding all our
endeavours, they constantly did. One piece of information I gained from
this affair, which was, the numbers of cargoes which were run compared
to those which were seized during the remainder of the time I was on
that station, and found it to be in the proportion of ten to one. The
cargoes run were calculated by the observations of old Cockle, who, when
I called upon him, used to say very quietly, "I shouldn't wonder if they
did not run a cargo last night, Bob, in spite of all your vigilance--was
it very dark?"
"On the contrary," replied I, looking at the demure face of the negro;
"I suspect it was _Moonshine_."
The Fairy's Wand
A TALE OF WINDSOR PARK IN THE DAYS OF THE MERRY MONARCH
In the time of Charles II., Windsor Park stood just where it stands now,
and the castle of Windsor was very often the abode of royalty, as it is
now; but in those merry, but licentious times, there was much more fun
and feasting going on than perhaps there is at present. Rochester was
master of the revels, and the Countesses of ---- but I will say nothing
about the ladies, although some of the highest of our aristocracy are
descended from them. There were great preparations in the castle, for
King Charles had invited down the Mayor of London, and a bevy of
aldermen; not so much with a view of doing honour to the magistrates of
the great and ancient city, as with the hope to extract some amusement
from their peculiarities.
The fact is, that the Mayor and aldermen of London had certified to the
Earl of Rochester, that they had some complaint to make and some favour
to request of his Majesty. Rochester, ever willing to procure amusement
for his royal master, at the same time was equally careful not to allow
him to be annoyed, and therefore had contrived to ferret out that the
complaint against the lords of the court, was for their foo great
familiarity with the citizens' wives, and that the favour to be demanded
was, a curtailment of the dress, ornaments, and expensive habits of the
city ladies.--He considered this a very favourable opportunity for
procuring some mirth at the expense of the corporation.
With the consent of the king, he had intimated to the mayor and
aldermen, that they would be received in the evening, and honoured with
a seat at the royal banquet; and at the same time he had privately made
known to the lady mayoress, what were the demands about to be made by
her husband, desiring her to communicate the same, under a strict
promise of secrecy, to the wives of all the aldermen; and also
acquainting them that his Majesty would be glad to receive the ladies on
the same evening, provided that they could come without the knowledge of
their husbands, which might be done by their setting off for Windsor
some short time after them. It was the intention of the king, that when
the mayor and corporation should present the address, they should be met
face to face by their wives, and thus issue be joined.
But mortals were not the only parties who revelled in the beauties of
the park of Windsor.
On the evening that this comedy was about to be enacted, there reclined
under the celebrated oak, known as Herne's Oak, in a small clear space
between some ferns, two of those beings called fairies who had for time
immemorial taken up their quarters in that delightful retreat. Whether
they were man and wife is not established, but certainly they were male
and female; and as they appeared to be on the very best understanding,
it is to be presumed that they were not married.
"Elda, there will be a scene to-night at the castle," said the male to
the female sprite, as he tickled her nose with a blade of grass.
"Yes, Maya; how foolish those mortals are!"
"I have a mind to create even more mischief," rejoined Maya, "but if I
did, you would want to see it."
"Well, and suppose I did, dearest?"
"I do not like that you should be in company with those women, Elda;
those duchesses and countesses."
"Bless me, Maya!--what are you afraid of? my virtue?"
"Oh no, dearest! I did not mean that----"
"Then I'll tell you what you did mean, you jealous-pated fool: you
meant, that you did not like that I should be in the company of the Earl
of Rochester and the King. You ought to have more respect for yourself,
and more respect for me, than to be jealous of those mortals."
"Nay, Elda!"
"Yes, yes, and your reason for wanting to go alone, is to hang over that
nasty Duchess of Portsmouth."
"Upon my honour!--"
"Your honour, sir!--you have none--there, sir, you may go."
"Oh, very well, madam; just as you please."
Certainly there was something very mortal in this quarrel, and may
remind the reader of similar scenes in domestic life.
It ended by Maya walking sulkily away in the direction of the castle,
and of Elda following him at a distance, determined to watch his
motions.
But if these two lovers had quarrelled, there were two other beings who
were indulging in a moonlight walk on the terrace, linked arm-in-arm so
affectionately, so fondly, keeping exact pace for pace, and occasionally
embracing each other, every one would have thought that nothing in the
world could ever have disunited them. They were two young ladies of the
court, aged about seventeen, just clear of their governess and
bread-and-butter, and newly-appointed maids of honour: they were both
beautiful, and had contracted a friendship, as all girls do at that age,
when love has with them no precise definition. They had sworn eternal
affection after an acquaintance of eight-and-forty hours--the sun and
the moon, and all the stars in the firmament--heaven above, the earth
below, and everything below that again, had all been summoned to
register their vows; and at the time that they were then walking they
would have considered it positive heresy to hint at the idea of a
disagreement even in thought; but, as I have before observed, they were
only seventeen years old.
Maya, who had bent his steps towards the castle, perceived these two
young damsels parading up and down, and although he had not the full
power of Oberon, yet he was still a highly-endowed fairy. Among other
powers vested in him, he had a wand, which when it touched any fairy
would change that fairy into mortal size and shape, and if it touched
any mortal would produce the contrary effect, giving them for the time
the size and appearance of fairies, imps, tritons, naiads, or some of
those intermediate creatures, which most accorded with their mortal
propensities and dispositions.
This very wand made him much feared by the other fairies, as they were
often punished by him in this way, and it was only Oberon, the king, who
had the power of reversing the charm; and it is said, that this very
wand was one cause why his fair Elda, generally speaking, behaved so
well, as he often threatened to turn her into a Dutch milkmaid; which,
as she was of a very beautiful figure, would have been a very severe
punishment.
It was with this wand--worn like a harlequin's at his side--that the
fairy Maya was walking up the terrace; he had changed himself to a
handsome young forester, dressed in a suit of green, with bugle by his
side, a cap with black feathers hanging down to his right shoulder;
wearing the appearance of a very handsome young man of about twenty, and
just the description of person to create a difference between two young
ladies, who had half an hour before sworn everlasting friendship.
As he passed he made a very profound obeisance.
"Who is he, dearest?" said Miss Araminta.
"Who is he, dearest?" said Miss Euthanasia, both nudging one another at
the same moment.
"He bowed to _me_, said Araminta.
"No, sweetest, it was to _me_ he bowed," rejoined Euthanasia.
"Well I declare!" cried Araminta. What was to follow is not known, for
the young forester had retraced his steps and now addressed the young
ladies.
"Fair maids of honour, as I presume you are such," said he, taking off
his cap, and displaying such handsome curls that each young lady, for
the first time, thought how much better it had been if she had walked
out alone, "may I inquire the cause of such revelry to-night in the
royal castle?"
"The king entertains--" said Araminta.
"The mayor and aldermen," cried Euthanasia, taking the remainder of the
sentence out of her friend's mouth.
"Indeed!" replied the fairy, who then entered into conversation with the
young ladies, dividing his attentions as equally as he could.
Now it so happened that Elda, who had followed Maya at a distance, could
no longer restrain her jealousy when she perceived him walking and
talking so earnestly, and, as she considered, really making love to
these fair mortals. She took the shape of a big bumble bee, and flying
to him settled on his back, stinging him so severely that he uttered an
exclamation of pain; and the young ladies were tenderly enquiring where
he was hurt, when he felt convinced that it was Elda who had thus
punished him. Fairies have consciences as well as mortals. Maya felt
that he was, or what was quite as bad, that he appeared to be, guilty.
He had already repented of his quarrel with Elda; and, after receiving
the condolence of the two young ladies, who vied in their attentions to
him, he very suddenly took leave, resolving in his own mind that he
would seek out Elda, and make friends with her, infinitely preferring
her to two young bread-and-butter maids of honour. Thus did the fairy
prove his good sense, and abandon all idea of making mischief at the
castle.
Now it so happened that the sting received from the jealous Elda was so
very severe, that in his jump forward Maya had allowed his wand to drop
out of his belt, and when he departed he did not perceive his loss.
There it lay on the terrace, between the two young maids of honour, who
already had discovered that their eternal friendship was on the wane.
They both remained silent and watching the receding figure of the
handsome young forester for at least a minute and a half. At last this
unheard-of duration of silence between two young ladies who had sworn
eternal friendship was broken. It proved to be like the calm which
precedes the tornado.
"Well, I am sure!" cried Euthanasia.
"I shouldn't wonder," replied Araminta.
"Courtly manners, indeed!" continued Euthanasia.
"Yes, you may say that; no wonder he wouldn't stay," responded Araminta,
tossing her head.
"No; when you drove him away, miss."
"Me, miss?"
"Yes, you, miss."
"No, miss."
"Yes, miss."
I regret to report the scene which followed. After trying hard to drown
each other's voices, the two young maids of honour, who had sworn
eternal friendship, commenced pushing, then spitting, then slapping,
then beating. Then they pulled each other's hair--then--yes, then
Araminta perceived the wand lying on the terrace, and she seized it with
the intention of chastising Euthanasia; and Euthanasia perceiving her
intention, seized hold of the other end of the wand. A struggle took
place, which ended in the wand breaking in half. Then they separated,
Araminta throwing her half at her dearest friend, her dearest friend
returning the compliment; after which, they both ran home to the castle,
vowing that nothing should ever induce them even to speak one single
word to each other as long as they lived. We must leave them to go to
their rooms, wash their pretty faces, and repair the damage done to
their dresses, while we inform the reader of what is going on in the
reception-room of the castle.