POMPOUS OBSEQUIES--THE READING OF THE WILL, NOT EXACTLY AFTER WILKIE--I
AM LEFT A LEGACY--WHAT BECOMES OF IT--MY FATHER, VERY WARM, WRITES A
SERMON TO COOL HIMSELF--I JOIN O'BRIEN'S BRIG, AND FALL IN WITH
SWINBURNE.
On that day week I accompanied my father to Eagle Park, to assist at the
burial of Lord Privilege. We were ushered into the room where the body
had lain in state for three days. The black hangings, the lofty plumes,
the rich ornaments on the coffin, and the number of wax candles, with
which the room was lighted, produced a solemn and grand effect. I could
not help, as I leaned against the balustrade before the coffin, and
thought of its contents, calling to mind when my poor grandfather's
feelings seemed, as it were, inclined to thaw in my favour, when he
called me "his child," and, in all probability, had not my uncle had a
son, would have died in my arms, fond and attached to me for my own
sake, independently of worldly considerations. I felt that had I known
him longer, I could have loved him, and that he would have loved me; and
I thought to myself how little all these empty honours, after his
decease, could compensate for the loss of those reciprocal feelings,
which would have so added to his happiness during his existence. But he
had lived for pomp and vanity; and pomp and vanity attended him to his
grave. I thought of my sister Ellen, and of O'Brien, and walked away
with the conviction that Peter Simple might have been an object of envy
to the late Right Honourable Lord Viscount Privilege, Baron Corston,
Lord Lieutenant of the county, and one of His Majesty's most Honourable
Privy Councillors.
When the funeral, which was very tedious and very splendid, was over, we
all returned in the carriages to Eagle Park, when my uncle, who had of
course assumed the title, and who had attended as chief mourner, was in
waiting to receive us. We were shown into the library, and in the chair
so lately and constantly occupied by my grandfather, sat the new lord.
Near to him were the lawyers, with parchments lying before them. As we
severally entered, he waved his hand to unoccupied chairs, intimating to
us to sit down; but no words were exchanged, except an occasional
whisper between him and the lawyers. When all the branches of the
family were present, down to the fourth and fifth cousins, the lawyer on
the right of my uncle put on his spectacles, and unrolling the
parchment, commenced reading the will. I paid attention to it at first;
but the legal technicalities puzzled me, and I was soon thinking of
other matters, until, after half-an-hour's reading, I was startled at
the sound of my own name. It was a bequest by codicil to me, of the sum
of ten thousand pounds. My father, who sat by me, gave me a slight
push, to attract my attention; and I perceived that his face was not
quite so mournful as before. I was rejoicing at this unexpected
intelligence. I called to mind what my father had said to me when we
were returning from Eagle Park, that "my grandfather's attentions to me
were as good as ten thousand pounds in his will," and was reflecting how
strange it was that he had hit upon the exact sum. I also thought of
what my father had said of his own affairs, and his not having saved
anything for his children, and congratulated myself that I should now be
able to support my dear sister Ellen, in case of any accident happening
to my father, when I was roused by another mention of my name. It was a
codicil dated about a week back, in which my grandfather, not pleased at
my conduct, revoked the former codicil, and left me nothing. I knew
where the blow came from, and I looked my uncle in the face; a gleam of
malignant pleasure was in his eyes, which had been fixed on me, waiting
to receive my glance. I returned it with a smile expressive of scorn
and contempt, and then looked at my father, who appeared to be in a
state of misery. His head had fallen upon his breast, and his hands
were clasped. Although I was shocked at the blow, for I knew how much
the money was required, I felt too proud to show it; indeed, I felt that
I would not for worlds have exchanged situations with my uncle, much
less feelings; for when those who remain meet to ascertain the
disposition made, by one who is summoned away to the tribunal of his
Maker, of those worldly and perishable things which he must leave behind
him, feelings of rancour and ill-will might, for the time, be permitted
to subside, and the memory of a "departed brother" be productive of
charity and good-will. After a little reflection, I felt that I could
forgive my uncle.
Not so my father: the codicil which deprived me of my inheritance, was
the last of the will, and the lawyer rolled up the parchment and took
off his spectacles. Everybody rose; my father seized his hat, and
telling me in a harsh voice to follow him, tore off the crape weepers,
and then threw them on the floor as he walked away. I also took off
mine, and laid them on the table, and followed him. My father called
his carriage, waiting in the hall till it was driven up, and jumped into
it. I followed him; he drew up the blind, and desired them to drive
home.
"Not a sixpence! By the God of heaven, not a sixpence! My name not
even mentioned, except for a paltry mourning ring! And yours--pray,
sir, what have you been about, after having such a sum left you, to
forfeit your grandfather's good opinion? Heh! sir--tell me directly!"
continued he, turning round to me in a rage.
"Nothing, my dear father, that I am aware of. My uncle is evidently my
enemy."
"And why should he be particularly your enemy? Peter, there must be
some reason for his having induced your grandfather to alter his bequest
in your favour. I insist upon it, sir, that you tell me immediately."
"My dear father, when you are more calm, I will talk this matter over
with you. I hope I shall not be considered wanting in respect, when I
say, that, as a clergyman of the Church of England--"
"Damn the Church of England, and those who put me into it!" replied my
father, maddened with rage.
I was shocked and held my tongue. My father appeared also to be
confused at his hasty expressions. He sank back in his carriage, and
preserved a gloomy silence until we arrived at our own door. As soon as
we entered, my father hastened to his own room, and I went up to my
sister Ellen, who was in her bed-room. I revealed to her all that had
passed, and advised with her on the propriety of my communicating to my
father the reasons which had occasioned my uncle's extreme aversion
towards me. After much argument, she agreed with me, that the
disclosure had now become necessary.
After the dinner-cloth had been removed, my sister left the room, and
went upstairs, and I then communicated to my father the circumstances
which had come to our knowledge relative to my uncle's establishment in
Ireland. He heard me very attentively, took out tablets, and made
notes.
"Well, Peter," said he, after a few minutes' silence, when I had
finished, "I see clearly through this whole business. I have no doubt
but that a child has been substituted to defraud you and me of our just
inheritance of the title and estates; but I will now set to work and try
if I cannot find out the secret; and, with the help of Captain O'Brien
and Father McGrath, I think it is not at all impossible."
"O'Brien will do all that he can, sir," replied I; "and I expect soon to
hear from him. He must have now been a week in Ireland."
"I shall go there myself," replied my father: "and there are no means
that I will not resort to, to discover this infamous plot. No,"
exclaimed he, striking his fist on the table, so as to shiver two of the
wine-glasses into fragments--"no means but I will resort to."
"That is," replied I, my dear father, "no means which may be
legitimately employed by one of your profession."
"I tell you, no means that can be used by _man_ to recover his defrauded
rights. Tell me not of legitimate means, when I am to lose a title and
property by a spurious and illegitimate substitution! By the God of
heaven, I will meet them with fraud for fraud, with false swearing for
false swearing, and with blood for blood, if it should be necessary! My
brother has dissolved all ties, and I will have my right, even if I
demand it with a pistol at his ear."
"For Heaven's sake, my dear father, do not be so violent--recollect your
profession."
"I do," replied he bitterly; "and how I was forced into it, against my
will. I recollect my father's words, the solemn coolness with which he
told me, `I had my choice of the Church, or--to starve.'--But I have my
sermon to prepare for to-morrow, and I can sit here no longer. Tell
Ellen to send me in some tea."
I did not think my father was in a very fit state of mind to write a
sermon, but I held my tongue. My sister joined me, and we saw no more
of him till breakfast the next day. Before we met, I received a letter
from O'Brien.
"MY DEAR PETER,--I ran down to Plymouth, hoisted my pennant, drew my
jollies from the dock-yard, and set my first lieutenant to work
getting in the ballast and water-tanks. I then set off for Ireland,
and was very well received as Captain O'Brien by my family, who were
all flourishing. Now that my two sisters are so well married off, my
father and mother are very comfortable, but very lonely; for I believe
I told you long before that it had pleased Heaven to take all the rest
of my brothers and sisters, except the two now married, and one who
bore up for a nunnery, dedicating her service to God, after she was
scarred with the small-pox, and no man would look at her. Ever since
the family have been grown up, my father and mother have been
lamenting and sorrowing that none of them would go off; and now that
they're all gone off one way or another, they cry all day because they
are left all alone, with no one to keep company with them, except
Father McGrath and the pigs. We never are to be contented in this
world, that's sartin; and now that they are comfortable in every
respect, they find that they are very uncomfortable, and having
obtained all their wishes, they wish everything back again; but as old
Maddocks used to say, `A good growl is better than a bad dinner' with
some people; and the greatest pleasure that they now have is to
grumble; and if that makes them happy, they must be happy all day
long--for the devil a bit do they leave off from morning till night.
"The first thing that I did was to send for Father McGrath, who had
been more away from home than usual--I presume, not finding things
quite so comfortable as they used to be. He told me that he had met
with Father O'Toole, and had a bit of a dialogue with him, which had
ended in a bit of a row, and that he had cudgelled Father O'Toole
well, and tore his gown off his back, and then tore it into shivers,--
that Father O'Toole had referred the case to the bishop, and that was
how the matter stood just then. `But,' says he, `the spalpeen has
left this part of the country, and, what is more, has taken Ella and
her mother with him; and, what is still worse, no one could find out
where they were gone; but it was believed that they had all been sent
over the water.' So you see, Peter, that this is a bad job in one
point, which is, that we have no chance of getting the truth out of
the old woman; for now that we have war with France, who is to follow
them? On the other hand, it is good news; for it prevents me from
decoying that poor young girl, and making her believe what will never
come to pass; and I am not a little glad on that score, for Father
McGrath was told by those who were about her, that she did nothing but
weep and moan for two days before she went away, scolded as she was by
her mother, and threatened by that blackguard O'Toole. It appears to
me, that all our hopes now are in finding out the soldier, and his
wife the wet-nurse, who were sent to India--no doubt with the hope
that the climate and the fevers may carry them off. That uncle of
yours is a great blackguard, every bit of him. I shall leave here in
three days, and you must join me at Plymouth. Make my compliments to
your father, and my regards to your sister, whom may all the saints
preserve! God bless her, for ever and ever. Amen.
"Yours ever,
"Terence O'Brien."
I put this letter into my father's bands when he came out of his room.
"This is a deep-laid plot," said he, "and I think we must immediately do
as O'Brien states--look after the nurse who was sent to India. Do you
know the regiment to which her husband belongs?"
"Yes, sir," replied I; "it is the 33rd, and she sailed for India about
three months back."
"The name, you say, I think, is O'Sullivan," said he, pulling out his
tablets. "Well, I will write immediately to Captain Fielding, and beg
him to make the minutest inquiries. I will also write to your sister
Lucy, for women are much keener than men in affairs of this sort. If
the regiment is ordered to Ceylon, all the better: if not, he must
obtain furlough to prosecute his inquiries. When that is done, I will
go myself to Ireland, and try if we cannot trace the other parties."
My father then left the room, and I retired with Ellen to make
preparations for joining my ship at Plymouth. A letter announcing my
appointment had come down, and I had written to request my commission to
be forwarded to the clerk of the cheque at Plymouth, that I might save a
useless journey to London. On the following day I parted with my father
and my dear sister, and, without any adventure, arrived at Plymouth
Dock, where I met with O'Brien. The same day I reported myself to the
admiral, and joined my brig, which was lying alongside the hulk with her
topmasts pointed through. Returning from the brig, as I was walking up
Fore-street, I observed a fine stout sailor, whose back was turned to
me, reading the handbill which had been posted up everywhere, announcing
that the _Rattlesnake_, Captain O'Brien (about to proceed to the West
India station, where _doubloons_ were so plentiful, that dollars were
only used for ballast), was in want of a _few_ stout hands. It might
have been said, of a great many; for we had not entered six men, and
were doing all the work with the marines and riggers of the dockyard;
but it is not the custom to show your poverty in this world either with
regard to men or money. I stopped, and overheard him say, "Ay, as for
the doubloons, that cock won't fight. I've served long enough in the
West Indies not to be humbugged; but I wonder whether Captain O'Brien
was the second lieutenant of the _Sanglier_. If so, I shouldn't mind
trying a cruise with him."
I thought that I recollected the voice, and touching him on the
shoulder, he turned round, and it proved to be Swinburne. "What,
Swinburne!" said I, shaking him by the hand, for I was delighted to see
him, "is it you?"
"Why, Mr Simple! Well, then, I expect that I'm right, and that Mr
O'Brien is made, and commands this craft. When you meet the pilot-fish,
the shark ain't far off, you know."
"You're very right, Swinburne," said I, "in all except calling Captain
O'Brien a shark. He's no shark."
"No, that he ain't except in one way; that is, that I expect he'll soon
show his teeth to the Frenchmen. But I beg your pardon, sir;" and
Swinburne took off his hat.
"Oh! I understand: you did not perceive before that I had shipped the
swab. Yes, I'm lieutenant of the _Rattlesnake_, Swinburne, and hope
you'll join us."
"There's my hand upon it, Mr Simple," said he, smacking his great fist
into mine so as to make it tingle. "I'm content if I know that the
captain's a good officer; but when there's two, I think myself lucky.
I'll just take a boat, and put my name on the books, and then I'll be on
shore again to spend the rest of my money, and try if I can't pick up a
few hands as volunteers, for I know where they all be stowed away, I was
looking at the craft this morning, and rather took a fancy to her. She
has a damned pretty run; but I hope Captain O'Brien will take off her
fiddle-head, and get one carved: I never knew a vessel do much with a
_fiddle_-head."
"I rather think that Captain O'Brien has already applied to the
Commissioner on the subject," replied I; "at all events, it won't be
very difficult to make the alteration ourselves."
"To be sure not," replied Swinburne; "a coil of four-inch will make the
body of the snake; I can carve out the head; and as for a _rattle_ be
blessed if I don't rob one of those beggars of watchmen this very night!
So good-bye, Mr Simple, till we meet again."
Swinburne kept his word; he joined the ship that afternoon, and the next
day came off with six good hands, who had been induced from his
representations to join the brig. "Tell Captain O'Brien," said he to
me, "not to be in too great a hurry to man his ship. I know where there
are plenty to be had; but I'll try fair means first." This he did, and
every day almost he brought off a man, and all he did bring off were
good able seamen. Others volunteered, and we were now more than half
manned, and ready for sea. The admiral then gave us permission to send
pressgangs on shore.
"Mr Simple," said Swinburne, "I've tried all I can to persuade a lot of
fine chaps to enter, but they won't. Now I'm resolved that my brig
shall be well manned; and if they don't know what's good for them, I do,
and I'm sure that they'll thank me for it afterwards; so I'm determined
to take every mother's son of them."
The same night, we mustered all Swinburne's men, and went on shore to a
crimp's house which they knew, surrounded it with our marines in blue
jackets, and took out of it twenty-three fine able seamen, which nearly
filled up our complement. The remainder we obtained by a draft from the
admiral's ship; and I do not believe that there was a vessel that left
Plymouth harbour and anchored in the Sound, better manned than the
_Rattlesnake_. So much for a good character, which is never lost upon
seamen.
O'Brien was universally liked by those who had sailed with him; and
Swinburne, who knew him well, persuaded many, and forced the others, to
enter with him, whether they liked it or not. This they in the event
did, and, with the exception of those drafted from the flag-ship, we had
no desertions. Indeed, none deserted whom we could have wished to
retain, and their vacancies were soon filled up with better men.