Thus did I remove from the lighter, and at once take up the profession
of a waterman; I walked down to the Fulham side, where I found Stapleton
at the door of the public-house, standing with two or three others,
smoking his pipe. "Well, lad, so you're chained to my wherry for two or
three years; and I'm to initiate you into all the rules and regulations
of the company. Now, I'll tell you one thing, which is, d'ye see, when
the river's covered with ice, as it is just now, haul your wherry up
high and dry, and smoke your pipe till the river is clear, as I do now."
"I might have guessed that," replied I, bawling in his ear, "without you
telling me."
"Very true; but don't bawl in my ear quite so loud, I hears none the
better for it; my ears require coaxing, that's all."
"Why, I thought you were as deaf as a post."
"Yes, so I be with strangers, 'cause I don't know the pitch of their
voice; but with those about me I hear better when they speak quietly--
that's human nature. Come, let's go home, my pipe is finished, and as
there's nothing to be done on the river, we may just as well make all
tidy there."
Stapleton had lost his wife; but he had a daughter, fifteen years old,
who kept his lodgings, and _did for him_, as he termed it. He lived in
part of some buildings leased by a boat-builder; his windows looked out
on the river; and, on the first floor, a bay-window was thrown out, so
that at high water the river ran under it. As for the rooms, consisting
of five, I can only say that they could not be spoken of as large and
small, but as small and smaller. The sitting-room was eight feet
square, the two bed-rooms at the back, for himself and his daughter,
just held a small bed each, and the kitchen and my room below were to
match; neither were the tenements in the very best repair, the parlour
especially, hanging over the river, being lop-sided, and giving you the
uncomfortable idea that it would every minute fall into the stream
below. Still, the builder declared that it would last many years
without sinking further, and that was sufficient. At all events, they
were very respectable accommodations for a waterman, and Stapleton paid
for them 10 pounds per annum. Stapleton's daughter was certainly a very
well-favoured girl. She had rather a large mouth; but her teeth were
very fine, and beautifully white. Her hair was auburn--her complexion
very fair, her eyes were large, and of a deep blue, and from her figure,
which was very good, I should have supposed her to have been eighteen,
although she was not past fifteen, as I found out afterwards. There was
a frankness and honesty of countenance about her, and an intellectual
smile, which was very agreeable.
"Well, Mary, how do you get on?" said Stapleton, as we ascended to the
sitting-room. "Here's young Faithful come to take up with us."
"Well, father, his bed's all ready; and I have taken so much dirt from
the room that I expect we shall be indicted for filling up the river. I
wonder what nasty people lived in this house before us."
"Very nice rooms, nevertheless; ain't they, boy?"
"O yes, very nice for idle people; you may amuse yourself looking out on
the river, or watching what floats past, or fishing with a pin at high
water," replied Mary, looking at me.
"I like the river," replied I, gravely; "I was born on it, and hope to
get my bread on it."
"And I like this sitting-room," rejoined Stapleton; "how mighty
comfortable it will be to sit at the open window, and smoke in the
summer time, with one's jacket off!"
"At all events you'll have no excuse for dirtying the room, father; and
as for the lad, I suppose his smoking days have not come yet."
"No," replied I; "but my days for taking off my jacket are, I suspect."
"O yes," replied she, "never fear that; father will let you do all the
work you please, and look on--won't you, father?"
"Don't let your tongue run quite so fast, Mary; you're not over fond of
work yourself."
"No; there's only one thing I dislike more," replied she, "and that's
holding my tongue."
"Well, I shall leave you and Jacob to make it out together; I am going
back to the Feathers." And old Stapleton walked down stairs, and went
back to the inn, saying, as he went out, that he should be back to his
dinner.
Mary continued her employment of wiping the furniture of the room with a
duster for some minutes, during which I did not speak, but watched the
floating ice on the river. "Well," said Mary, "do you always talk as
you do now? if so, you'll be a very nice companion. Mr Turnbull who
came to my father, told me that you was a sharp fellow, could read,
write, and do everything, and that I should like you very much; but if
you mean to keep it all to yourself, you might as well not have had it."
"I am ready to talk when I have anything to talk about," replied I.
"That's not enough. I'm ready to talk about nothing, and you must do
the same."
"Very well," replied I. "How old are you?"
"How old am I! O, then you consider me nothing. I'll try hard but you
shall alter your opinion, my fine fellow. However, to answer your
question, I believe I'm about fifteen."
"Not more? well, there's an old proverb, which I will not repeat."
"I know it, so you may save yourself the trouble, you saucy boy; but
now, for your age?"
"Mine! let me see; well, I believe that I am nearly seventeen."
"Are you really so old? well, now, I should have thought you no more
than fourteen."
This answer at first surprised me, as I was very stout and tall for my
age; but a moment's reflection told me that it was given to annoy me. A
lad is as much vexed at being supposed younger than he really is as a
man of a certain age is annoyed at being taken for so much older.
"Pooh!" replied I; "that shows how little you know about men."
"I wasn't talking about men, that I know of; but still, I do know
something about them. I've had two sweethearts already."
"Indeed! and what have you done with them?"
"Done with them! I jilted the first for the second, because the second
was better looking; and when Mr Turnbull told me so much about you, I
jilted the second to make room for you: but now I mean to try if I can't
get him back again."
"With all my heart," replied I laughing. "I shall prove but a sorry
sweetheart, for I have never made love in my life."
"Have you ever had anybody to make love to?"
"No."
"That's the reason, Mr Jacob, depend upon it. All you have to do is to
swear that I'm the prettiest girl in the world, that you like me better
than anybody else in the world; do anything in the world that I wish you
to do--spend all the money you have in the world in buying me ribbons
and fairings, and then--"
"And then, what?"
"Why, then, I shall hear all you have to say, take all you have to give,
and laugh at you in the bargain."
"But I shouldn't stand that long."
"O, yes, you would. I'd put you out of humour, and coax you in again;
the fact is, Jacob Faithful, I made my mind up, before I saw you, that
you should be my sweetheart, and when I will have a thing, I will, so
you may as well submit to it at once. If you don't, as I keep the key
of the cupboard, I'll half starve you; that's the way to tame any brute,
they say. And I tell you why, Jacob, I mean that you shall be my
sweetheart; it's because Mr Turnbull told me that you knew Latin; now,
tell me, what is Latin?"
"Latin is a language which people spoke in former times, but now they do
not."
"Well, then, you shall make love to me in Latin, that's agreed."
"And how do you mean to answer me?"
"O, in plain English, to be sure."
"But how are you to understand me?" replied I, much amused with the
conversation.
"O, if you make love properly, I shall soon understand you; I shall read
the English of it in your eyes."
"Very well, I have no objection; when am I to begin?"
"Why, directly, you stupid fellow, to be sure. What a question!"
I went close up to Mary, and repeated a few words of Latin. "Now," says
I, "look into my eyes, and see if you can translate them."
"Something impudent, I'm sure," replied she, fixing her blue eyes on
mine.
"Not at all," replied I, "I only asked for this," and I snatched a kiss,
in return for which I received a box on the ear, which made it tingle
for five minutes. "Nay," replied I, "that's not fair; I did as you
desired--I made love in Latin."
"And I answered you, as I said I would, in plain English," replied Mary,
reddening up to the forehead, but directly after bursting out into a
loud laugh. "Now, Mr Jacob, I plainly see that you know nothing about
making love. Bless me, a year's dangling, and a year's pocket-money
should not have given you what you have had the impudence to take in so
many minutes. But it was my own fault, that's certain, and I have no
one to thank but myself. I hope I didn't hurt you--I'm very sorry if I
did; but no more making love in Latin. I've had quite enough of that."
"Well, then, suppose we make friends," replied I, holding out my hand.
"That's what I really wished to do, although I've been talking so much
nonsense," replied Mary. "I know we shall like one another, and be very
good friends. You can't help feeling kind towards a girl you've kissed;
and I shall try by kindness to make up to you for the box on the ear; so
now, sit down, and let's have a long talk. Mr Turnbull told us that he
wished you to serve out your apprenticeship on the river with my father,
so that, if you agree, we shall be a long while together. I take Mr
Turnbull's word, not that I can find it out yet, that you are a very
good-tempered, good-looking, clever, modest lad; and as an apprentice
who remains with my father must live with us, of course I had rather it
should be one of that sort than some ugly, awkward brute who--"
"Is not fit to make love to you," replied I.
"Who is not fit company for me," replied Mary. "I want no more love
from you at present. The fact is that father spends all the time he can
spare from the wherry at the ale-house, smoking; and it's very dull for
me, and having nothing to do, I look out of the window, and make faces
at the young men as they pass by, just to amuse myself. Now, there was
no great harm in that a year or two ago; but now, you know, Jacob--"
"Well now, what then?"
"O, I'm bigger, that's all? and what might be called sauciness in a girl
may be thought something more of in a young woman. So I've been obliged
to leave it off; but being obliged to remain home, with nobody to talk
to, I never was so glad as when I heard that you were to come; so you
see, Jacob, we must be friends. I daren't quarrel with you long,
although I shall sometimes, just for variety, and to have the pleasure
of making it up again. Do you hear me--or what are you thinking of?"
"I'm thinking that you're a very odd girl."
"I dare say that I am, but how can I help that? Mother died when I was
five years old, and father couldn't afford to put me out, so he used to
lock me in all day till he came home from the river; and it was not till
I was seven years old, and of some use, that the door was left open. I
never shall forget the day when he told me that in future he should
trust me, and leave the door open. I thought I was quite a woman, and
have thought so ever since. I recollect that I often peeped out, and
longed to run about the world; but I went two or three yards from the
door, and felt so frightened, that I ran back as fast as I could. Since
that I have seldom quitted the house for an hour, and never have been
out of Fulham."
"Then you have never been at school?"
"O, no--never. I often wish that I had. I used to see the little girls
coming home, as they passed our door, so merrily, with their bags from
the school-house; and I'm sure, if it were only to have the pleasure of
going there and back again for the sake of the run, I'd have worked
hard, if for nothing else."
"Would you like to learn to read and write?"
"Will you teach me?" replied Mary, taking me by the arm, and looking me
earnestly in the face.
"Yes, I will, with pleasure," replied I, laughing. "We will pass the
evening better than making love, after all, especially if you hit so
hard. How came you so knowing in those matters?"
"I don't know," replied Mary, smiling; "I suppose, as father says, it's
human nature, for I never learnt anything; but you will teach me to read
and write?"
"I will teach you all I know myself, Mary, if you wish to learn.
Everything but Latin--we've had enough of that."
"Oh! I shall be so much obliged to you. I shall love you so!"
"There you are again."
"No, no, I didn't mean that," replied Mary, earnestly. "I meant that--
after all, I don't know what else to say. I mean that I shall love you
for your kindness, without your loving me again, that's it."
"I understand you; but now, Mary, as we are to be such good friends, it
is necessary that your father and I should be good friends; so I must
ask you what sort of a person he is, for I know but little of him, and,
of course, wish to oblige him."
"Well then, to prove to you that I'm sincere, I will tell you something;
My father, in the first place, is a very good tempered sort of man. He
works pretty well, but might gain more, but he likes to smoke at the
public-house. All he requires of me is his dinner ready, his linen
clean, and the house tidy. He never drinks too much, and is always
civil spoken; but he leaves me too much alone, and talks too much about
human nature, that's all."
"But he's so deaf--he can't talk to you."
"Give me your hand--now promise--for I'm going to do a very foolish
thing, which is to trust a man--promise you'll never tell it again."
"Well, I promise," replied I, supposing her secret of no consequence.
"Well, then--mind--you've promised. Father is no more deaf than you or
I."
"Indeed!" replied I; "why, he goes by the name of Deaf Stapleton?"
"I know he does, and makes everybody believe that he is so; but it is to
make money."
"How can he make money by that?"
"There's many people in business who go down the river, and they wish to
talk of their affairs without being overheard as they go down. They
always call for Deaf Stapleton: and there's many a gentleman and lady,
who have much to say to each other, without wishing people to listen--
you understand me?"
"O yes, I understand--Latin!"
"Exactly--and they call for Deaf Stapleton; and by this means he gets
more good fares than any other waterman, and does less work."
"But how will he manage now that I am with him?"
"O, I suppose it will depend upon his customers; if a single person
wants to go down, you will take the sculls; if they call for oars, you
will both go; if he considers Deaf Stapleton only is wanted, you will
remain on shore; or, perhaps, he will insist upon your being deaf too."
"But I do not like deceit."
"No, it's not right; although it appears to me that there is a great
deal of it. Still I should like you to sham deaf, and then tell me all
that people say. It would be so funny. Father never will tell a word."
"So far, your father, to a certain degree, excuses himself."
"Well, I think he will soon tell you what I have now told you, but till
then you must keep your promise; and now you must do as you please, as I
must go down in the kitchen, and get dinner on the fire."
"I have nothing to do," replied I; "can I help you?"
"To be sure you can, and talk to me, which is better still. Come down
and wash the potatoes for me, and then I'll find you some more work.
Well, I do think we shall be very happy."
I followed Mary Stapleton down into the kitchen, and we were soon very
busy, and very noisy, laughing, talking, blowing the fire, and preparing
the dinner. By the time that her father came home we were sworn
friends.