The day following that on which Mrs Dotropy and Ruth had gone out to
visit "the poor," Jessie and Kate Seaward received a visit from a man
who caused them no little anxiety--we might almost say alarm. He was a
sea-captain of the name of Bream.
As this gentleman was rather eccentric, it may interest the reader to
follow him, from the commencement of the day on which we introduce him.
But first let it be stated that Captain Bream was a fine-looking man,
though large and rugged. His upper lip and chin were bare, for he was
in the habit of mowing those regions every morning with a blunt razor.
To see Captain Bream go through this operation of mowing when at sea in
a gale of wind was a sight that might have charmed the humorous, and
horrified the nervous. The captain's shoulders were broad, and his
bones big; his waistcoat, also, was large, his height six feet two, his
voice a profound bass, and his manner boisterous but hearty. He was apt
to roar in conversation, but it was in a gale of wind that you should
have heard him! In such circumstances, the celebrated bull of Bashan
would have been constrained to retire from his presence with its tail
between its legs. When we say that Captain Bream's eyes were kind eyes,
and that the smile of his large mouth was a winning smile, we have
sketched a full-length portrait of him,--or, as painters might put it,
an "extra-full-length."
Well, when Captain Bream, having mown his chin, presented himself in
public, on the morning of the particular day of which we write, he
appeared to be in a meditative mood, and sauntered slowly, with the
professional gait of a sailor, through several narrow streets near
London Bridge. His hands were thrust into his coat-pockets, and a half
humorous, half perplexed expression rested on his face. Evidently
something troubled him, and he gave vent to a little of that something
in deep tones, being apt to think aloud as he went along in disjointed
sentences.
"Very odd," he murmured, "but that girl is always after some queer--
well, no matter. It's my business to--but it does puzzle me to guess
why she should want me to live in such an out-o'-the-way--however, I
suppose _she_ knows, and that's enough for me."
"Shine yer boots, sir?" said a small voice cutting short these broken
remarks.
"What?"
"Shine yer boots, sir, an' p'raps I can 'elp yer to clear up yer mind
w'en I'm a doin' of it."
It was the voice of a small shoeblack, whose eyes looked wistful.
The captain glanced at his boots; they wanted "shining" sadly, for the
nautical valet who should have attended to such matters had neglected
his duty that morning.
"Where d'ee live, my lad?" asked the captain, who, being large-hearted
and having spent most of his life at sea, felt unusual interest in all
things terrestrial when he chanced to be on shore.
"I live nowheres in par-tickler," answered the boy.
"But where d'ee sleep of a night?"
"Vell, that depends. Mostly anywheres."
"Got any father?"
"No, sir, I hain't; nor yet no mother--never had no fathers nor mothers,
as I knows on, an' wot's more, I don't want any. They're a chancey lot,
is fathers an' mothers--most of 'em. Better without 'em altogether, to
my mind. Tother foot, sir."
Looking down with a benignant smile at this independent specimen of
humanity, the captain obeyed orders.
"D'ee make much at this work now, my lad?" asked the captain.
"Not wery much, sir. Just about enough to keep soul an' body together,
an' not always that. It was on'y last veek as I was starvin' to that
extent that my soul very nigh broke out an' made his escape, but the
doctor he got 'old of it by the tail an' 'eld on till 'e indooced it to
stay on a bit longer. There you are, sir; might shave in 'em!"
"How much to pay?"
"Vell, gen'lemen usually gives me a penny, but that's in or'nary cases.
Ven I has to shine boots like a pair o' ships' boats I looks for suthin'
hextra--though I don't always get it!"
"There you are, my lad," said the captain, giving the boy something
"hextra," which appeared to satisfy him. Thereafter he proceeded to the
Bridge, and, embarking on one of the river steamers, was soon deposited
at Pimlico. Thence, traversing St. George's Square, he soon found
himself in the little street in which dwelt the Misses Seaward. He
looked about him for some minutes and then entered a green-grocer's
shop, crushing his hat against the top of the door-way.
Wishing the green-grocer good-morning he asked if lodgings were to be
had in that neighbourhood.
"Well, yes, sir," he replied, "but I fear that you'd find most of 'em
rather small for a man of your size."
"No fear o' that," replied the captain with a loud guffaw, which roused
the grocer's cat a little, "I'm used to small cabins, an' smaller bunks,
d'ee see, an' can stow myself away easy in any sort of hole. Why, I've
managed to snooze in a bunk only five foot four, by clewin' up my legs--
though it wasn't comfortable. But it's not the size I care about so
much as the character o' the landlady. I like tidy respectable people,
you see--havin' bin always used to a well-kept ship."
"Ah! I know one who'll just suit you. Up at the other end o' the
street. Two rooms kept by a young widow who--"
"Hold hard there," interrupted the captain; "none o' your young widows
for me. They're dangerous. Besides, big as I am, I don't want _two_
rooms to sleep in. If you know of any old maid, now, with _one_ room--
that's what would suit me to a tee; an easy-going sort o' woman, who--"
"I know of two elderly _ladies_," interrupted the green-grocer,
thoughtfully; "they're sisters, and have got a small room to let; but--
but--they're delicate sort o' creeters, you know; have seen better days,
an' are raither timid, an' might want a female lodger, or a man who--
who--"
"Out with it," interrupted the captain, "a man who is soft-spoken and
well-mannered--not a big noisy old sea-horse like me! Is that what you
would say?"
"Just so," answered the green-grocer with an amiable nod.
"What's the name of the sisters?"
"Seaward."
"Seaward! eh!" exclaimed the captain in surprise. "That's odd, now,
that a seafarin' man should be sent to seaward for his lodgin's, even
when he gets on shore. Ha! ha! I've always had a leanin' to seaward.
I'll try the sisters. They can only tell me to 'bout ship, you know,
and be off on the other tack."
And again the captain gave such boisterous vent to his mirth that the
green-grocer's cat got up and walked indignantly away, for, albeit well
used to the assaults of small boys, it apparently could not stand the
noise of this new and bass disturber of the peace.
Having ascertained that the Misses Seaward dwelt above the shop in which
he stood, Captain Bream went straight up-stairs and rapped heavily at
their door.
Now, although the sisters had been gradually reduced to the extreme of
poverty, they had hitherto struggled successfully against the necessity
of performing what is known as the "dirty work" of a house. By stinting
themselves in food, working hard at anything they succeeded in getting
to do, and mending and re-mending their garments until it became
miraculous, even to themselves, how these managed to hang together, they
had, up to that period in their history, managed to pay to a slender
little girl, out of their slender means, a still more slender salary for
coming night and morning to clean their grate, light their fire, carry
out their ashes, brush their boots, wash their door-steps, and otherwise
perform work for which the sisters were peculiarly unfitted by age,
training, and taste. This girl's name was Liffie Lee. She was good as
far as she went but she did not go far. Her goodness was not the result
of principle. She had no principle; did not know what the word meant,
but she had a nature, and that nature was soft, unselfish,
self-oblivious,--the last a blessing of incalculable price!
It was Liffie Lee who responded to Captain Bream's knock. She was at
the time about to leave the house in undisturbed possession of its
owners--or rather, occupiers.
"Does a Miss Seaward live here?"
It was a dark passage, and Liffie Lee almost quaked at the depth and
metallic solemnity of the voice, as she glanced up at the spot where it
appeared to come from.
"Yes, sir."
"May I see her?"
"I--I'll see, sir, if you'll wait outside, sir."
She gently yet quickly shut the door in the captain's face, and next
moment appeared in the little parlour with a flushed face and widely
open eyes.
The biggest man she had ever seen, or _heard_, she said, wanted to see
Miss Seaward.
Why did he want to see her and what was his name?
She didn't know, and had omitted to ask his name, having been so
frightened that she had left him at the door, which she had shut against
him.
"An', please, Miss," continued Liffie, in a tone of suppressed
eagerness, "if I was you I'd lock the parlour door in case he bu'sts in
the outer one. You might open the winder an' screech for the pleece."
"Oh! Liffie, what a frightened thing you are," remonstrated Jessie, "go
and show the man in at once."
"Oh! no, Miss," pleaded Liffie, "you'd better 'ave 'im took up at once.
You've no notion what dreadful men that sort are. _I_ know 'em well.
We've got some of 'em where _we_ live, and--and they're _awful_!"
Another knock at this point cut the conversation short, and Kate herself
went to open the door.
"May I have a word with Miss Seaward?" asked the captain respectfully.
"Ye'es, certainly," answered Kate, with some hesitation, for, although
reassured by the visitor's manner, his appearance and voice alarmed her
too. She ushered him into the parlour, however, which was suddenly
reduced to a mere bandbox by contrast with him.
Being politely asked to take a chair, he bowed and took hold of one, but
on regarding its very slender proportions--it was a cane chair--he
smiled and shook his head. The smile did much for him.
"Pray take this one," said Jessie, pointing to the old arm-chair, which
was strong enough even for him, "our visitors are not usually such--
such--"
"Thumping walruses! out with it, Miss Seaward," said the captain,
seating himself--gently, for he had suffered in this matter more than
once during his life--"I'm used to being found fault with for my size."
"Pray do not imagine," said Jessie, hastening to exculpate herself,
"that I could be so very impolite as--as to--"
"Yes, yes, I know that," interrupted the captain, blowing his nose--and
the familiar operation was in itself something awful in such a small
room--"and I _am_ too big, there's no doubt about that however, it can't
be helped. I must just grin and bear it. But I came here on business,
so we'll have business first, and pleasure, if you like, afterwards."
"You may go now," said Kate at this point to Liffie Lee, who was still
standing transfixed in open-mouthed amazement gazing at the visitor.
With native obedience and humility the child left the room, though
anxious to see and hear more.
"You have a furnished room to let I believe, ladies," said the captain,
coming at once to the point.
Jessie and Kate glanced at each other. The latter felt a strong
tendency to laugh, and the former replied:--
"We have, indeed, one small room--a very small room, in fact a mere
closet with a window in the roof,--which we are very anxious to let if
possible to a lady--a--female. It is very poorly furnished, but it is
comfortable, and we would make it very cheap. Is it about the hiring of
such a room that you come?"
"Yes, madam, it is," said the captain, decisively.
"But is the lady for whom you act," said Jessie, "prepared for a
particularly small room, and _very_ poorly furnished?"
"Yes, she is," replied the captain with a loud guffaw that made the very
windows vibrate; "in fact _I_ am the lady who wants the room. It's true
I'm not very lady-like, but I can say for myself that I'll give you less
trouble than many a lady would, an' I don't mind the cost."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Miss Seaward with a mingled look of amusement
and perplexity which she did not attempt to conceal, while Kate laughed
outright; "why, sir, the room is not much, if at all, longer than
yourself."
"No matter," returned the captain, "I'm nowise particular, an' I've been
recommended to come to you; so here I am, ready to strike a bargain if
you're agreeable."
"Pray, may I ask who recommended you?" said Jessie.
The seaman looked perplexed for a moment.
"Well, I didn't observe his name over the door," he said, "but the man
in the shop below recommended me."
"Oh? the green-grocer!" exclaimed both ladies together, but they did not
add what they thought, namely, that the green-grocer was a very
impertinent fellow to play off upon them what looked very much like a
practical joke.
"Perhaps the best way to settle the matter," said Kate, "will be to show
the gentleman our room. He will then understand the impossibility."
"That's right," exclaimed the captain; rising--and in doing so he seemed
about to damage the ceiling--"let's go below, by all means, and see the
cabin."
"It is not down-stairs," remarked Jessie, leading the way; "we are at
the top of the house here, and the room is on a level with this one."
"So much the better. I like a deck-cabin. In fact I've bin used to it
aboard my last ship."
On being ushered into the room which he wished to hire, the sailor found
himself in an apartment so very unsuited to his size and character that
even he felt slightly troubled.
"It's not so much the size that bothers me," he said, stroking his chin
gently, "as the fittings."
There was some ground for the seaman's perplexity, for the closet in
which he stood, apart from the fact of its being only ten feet long by
six broad, had been arranged by the tasteful sisters after the manner of
a lady's boudoir, with a view to captivate some poor sister of very
limited means, or, perhaps, some humble-minded and possibly undersized
young clerk from the country. The bed, besides being rather small, and
covered with a snow-white counterpane, was canopied with white muslin
curtains lined with pink calico. The wash-hand stand was low, fragile,
and diminutive. The little deal table, which occupied an inconveniently
large proportion of the space, was clothed in a garment similar to that
of the bed. The one solitary chair was of that cheap construction which
is meant to creak warningly when sat upon by light people, and to
resolve itself into match-wood when the desecrator is heavy. Two
pictures graced the walls--one the infant Samuel in a rosewood frame,
the other an oil painting--of probably the first century, for its
subject was quite undistinguishable--in a gold slip. The latter was a
relic of better days--a spared relic, which the public had refused to
buy at any price, though the auctioneer had described it as a rare
specimen of one of the old--the very old--masters, with Rembrandtesque
proclivities. No chest of drawers obtruded itself in that small
chamber, but instead thereof the economical yet provident sisters,
foreseeing the importance of a retreat for garments, had supplied a deal
box, of which they stuffed the lid and then covered the whole with green
baize, thus causing it to serve the double purpose of a wardrobe and a
small sofa.
"However," said Captain Bream, after a brief but careful look round,
"it'll do. With a little cuttin' and carvin' here an' there, we'll
manage to squeeze in, for you must know, ladies, that we sea-farin' men
have a wonderful knack o' stuffin' a good deal into small space."
The sisters made no reply. Indeed they were speechless, and horrified
at the bare idea of the entrance of so huge a lodger into their quiet
home.
"Look ye here, now," he continued in a comfortable, self-satisfied tone,
as he expanded his great arms along the length of the bed to measure it,
"the bunk's about five foot eight inches long. Well, I'm about six foot
two in my socks--six inches short; that's a difficulty no doubt, but
it's get-over-able this way, we'll splice the green box to it."
He grasped the sofa-wardrobe as he spoke, and placed it to the foot of
the bed, then embracing the entire mass of mattresses and bedding at the
lower end, raised it up, thrust the green box under with his foot, and
laid the bedding down on it--thus adding about eighteen inches to the
length.
"There you are, d'ee see--quite long enough, an' a foot to spare."
"But it does not fit," urged Kate, who, becoming desperate, resolved to
throw every possible obstruction in the way.
"That's true, madam," returned the captain with an approving nod. "I
see you've got a mechanical eye--there's a difference of elevation
'tween the box and the bed of three inches or more, but bless you,
that's nothin' to speak of. If you'd ever been in a gale o' wind at sea
you'd know that we seadogs are used to considerable difference of
elevation between our heads an' feet. My top-coat stuffed in'll put
that to rights. But you'll have to furl the flummery tops'ls--to lower
'em altogether would be safer."
He took hold of the muslin curtains with great tenderness as he spoke,
fearing, apparently, to damage them.
"You see," he continued, apologetically, "I'm not used to this sort o'
thing. Moreover, I've a tendency to nightmare. Don't alarm yourselves,
ladies, I never do anything worse to disturb folk than give a shout or a
yell or two, but occasionally I do let fly with a leg or an arm when the
fit's on me, an' if I should get entangled with this flummery, you know
I'd be apt to damage it. Yes, the safest way will be to douse the
tops'ls altogether. As to the chair--well, I'll supply a noo one
that'll stand rough weather. If you'll also clear away the petticoats
from the table it'll do well enough. In regard to the lookin'-glass, I
know pretty well what I'm like, an' don't have any desire to study my
portrait. As for shavin', I've got a bull's-eye sort of glass in the
lid o' my soap-box that serves all my purpose, and I shave wi' cold
water, so I won't be botherin' you in the mornin's for hot. I've got a
paintin' of my last ship--the Daisy--done in water-colours--it's a
pretty big 'un, but by hangin' Samuel on the other bulk-head, an'
stickin' that black thing over the door, we can make room for it."
As Captain Bream ran on in this fashion, smoothing down all
difficulties, and making everything comfortable, the poor sisters grew
more and more desperate, and Kate felt a tendency to recklessness coming
on. Suddenly a happy thought occurred to her.
"But sir," she interposed with much firmness of tone and manner, "there
is one great difficulty in the way of our letting the room to you which
I fear cannot be overcome."
The captain looked at her inquiringly, and Jessie regarded her with
admiration and wonder, for she could not conceive what this
insurmountable difficulty could be.
"My sister and I," continued Kate, "have both an _unconquerable_ dislike
to tobacco--"
"Oh! _that's_ no objection," cried the captain with a light laugh--which
in him, however, was an ear-splitting guffaw--"for I don't smoke!"
"Don't smoke?" repeated both sisters in tones of incredulity, for in
their imagination a seaman who did not smoke seemed as great an
impossibility as a street boy who did not whistle.
"An' what's more," continued the captain, "I don't drink. I'm a
tee-total abstainer. I leave smokin' to steam-funnels, an' drinkin' to
the fish."
"But," persisted Kate, on whom another happy thought had descended, "my
sister and I keep very early hours, and a latch-key we could never--"
"Pooh! that's no difficulty," again interrupted this unconquerable man
of the sea; "I hate late hours myself, when I'm ashore, havin' more than
enough of 'em when afloat. I'll go to bed regularly at nine o'clock,
an' won't want a latch-key."
The idea of such a man going to bed at all was awesome enough, but the
notion of his doing so in that small room, and in that delicately
arranged little bed under that roof-tree, was so perplexing, that the
sisters anxiously rummaged their minds for a new objection, but could
find none until their visitor asked the rent of the room. Then Kate was
assailed by another happy thought, and promptly named double the amount
which she and Jessie had previously fixed as its value--which amount she
felt sure would prove prohibitory.
Her dismay, then, may be imagined when the captain exclaimed with a
sigh--perhaps it were better to say a breeze--of relief:--
"Well, then, that's all comfortably settled. I consider the rent quite
moderate. I'll send up my chest to-morrow mornin', an' will turn up
myself in the evenin'. I'll bid ye good-day now, ladies, an' beg your
pardon for keepin' you so long about this little matter."
He held out his hand. One after another the crushed sisters put their
delicate little hands into the seaman's enormous paw, and meekly bade
him good-bye, after which the nautical giant strode noisily out of the
house, shut the door with an inadvertent bang, stumbled heavily down the
dark stair and passage, and finally vanished from the scene.
Then Jessie and Kate Seaward returned to their little parlour, sat down
at opposite sides of the miniature grate, and gazed at each other for
some minutes in solemn silence--both strongly impressed with the feeling
that they had passed through a tremendous storm, and got suddenly into a
profoundly dead calm.