A VERY SENSIBLE CHAPTER, HAVING REFERENCE TO THE SENSES--STAPLETON, BY
KEEPING HIS UNDER CONTROL, KEEPS HIS HEAD ABOVE WATER IN HIS WHERRY--
FORCED TO FIGHT FOR HIS WIFE, AND WHEN HE HAD WON HER, TO FIGHT ON TO
KEEP HER--NO GREAT PRIZE, YET IT MADE HIM A PRIZE-FIGHTER.
Old Stapleton finished his pipe, took another swig at the porter,
filled, relighted, puffed to try it, cleared his mouth, and then
proceeded:--
"Now, you see, Bartley, her husband, was the greatest rogue on the
river; he was up to everything, and stood at nothing. He fleeced as
much on the water as she did on the land; for I often seed her give
wrong change afterwards when people were tipsy, but I made it a rule
always to walk away. As for Bartley, his was always night-work, and
many's the coil of rope I have brought on shore, what, although he might
have paid for, he didn't buy it of the lawful owner, but I never _seed_
or _heard_, that was my maxim; and I fared well till I served my time,
and then they gave me their old wherry, and built a new one for
themselves. So I set up on my own account, and then I seed, and heard,
and had all my senses, just as they were before--more's the pity, for no
good came of it." [Puff, puff, puff, puff.] "The Bartleys wanted me to
join them, but that wouldn't do; for though I never meddled with other
people's concerns, yet I didn't choose to go wrong myself. I've seed
all the world cheating each other for fifty years or more, but that's no
concern of mine; I can't make the world better; so all I thinks about it
is to keep honest myself: and if every one was to look after his own
soul, and not trouble themselves about their neighbours, why, then, it
would be all the better for human natur'. I plied at the Swan Stairs,
gained my livelihood, and spent it as I got it; for I was then too young
to look out a'ter a rainy day.
"One night a young woman in a cloak comes down to the stairs with a
bundle in her arms, and seems in a very great taking, and asks me for a
boat. I hauls out of the row alongside of the yard, and hands her in.
She trips as she steps in, and I catches to save her from falling, and
in catching her I puts my hand upon the bundle in her arms, and feels
the warm face of a baby. `Where am I to go, ma'am?' says I. `O! pull
across, and land me on the other side,' says she; and then I hears her
sobbing to herself, as if her heart would break. When we were in the
middle o' the stream, she lifts up her head, and then first she looks at
the bundle and kisses it, and then she looks up at the stars which were
glittering above in the sky. She kisses the child once more, jumps up,
and afore I could be aware of what she was about, she tosses me her
purse, throws her child into the water, and leaps in herself. I pulls
sharp round immediately, and seeing her again, I made one or two good
strokes, comes alongside of her, and gets hold of her clothes. A'ter
much ado I gets her into the wherry, and as soon as I seed she was come
to again, I pulls her back to the stairs where she had taken me from.
As soon as I lands I hears a noise and talking, and several people
standing about; it seems it were her relatives, who had missed her, and
were axing whether she had taken a boat; and while they were describing
her, and the other watermen were telling them how I had taken a fare of
that description, I brings her back. Well, they takes charge of her,
and leads her home; and then for the first time I thinks of the purse at
the bottom of the boat, which I picks up, and sure enough there were
four golden guineas in it, beside some silver. Well, the men who plied
at the stairs axed me all about it; but I keeps my counsel, and only
tells them how the poor girl threw herself into the water, and how I
pulled her out again; and in a week I had almost forgot all about it,
when up comes an officer, and says to me, `You be Stapleton the
waterman?' and I says, `Yes, I be.' `Then you must come along with me;'
and he takes me to the police-office, where I finds the poor young woman
in custody for being accused of having murdered her infant. So they
begins to tax me upon my Bible oath, and I was forced to tell the whole
story; for though you may loose all your senses when convenient, yet
somehow or another, an oath on the Bible brings them all back again.
`Did you see the child?' said the magistrate. `I seed a bundle,' said
I. `Did you hear the child cry?' said he. `No,' says I, `I didn't;'
and then I thought I had got the young woman off; but the magistrate was
an old fox, and had all the senses at his fingers' ends. So says he,
`When the young woman stepped into the boat did she give you the
bundle?' `No,' says I again. `Then you never touched it?' `Yes, I
did, when her foot slipped.' `And what did it feel like?' `It felt
like a piece of human natur'.' says I, `and quite warm like.' `How do
you mean?' says he. `Why, I took it by the feel for a baby.' `And it
was quite warm, was it?' `Yes,' replied I, `it was.' `Well then, what
else took place?' `Why, when we were in the middle of the stream she
and her child went overboard; I pulled her in again, but could not see
the child.' Fortunately for the poor girl, they didn't ask me which
went overboard first, and that saved her from hanging. She was confined
six months in prison, and then let out again; but you see, if it hadn't
been for my unfortunately feeling the child, and feeling it was warm,
which proved its being alive, the poor young woman would have got off
altogether, perhaps. So much for the sense of feeling, which I say is
of no use to nobody, but only a vexation." [Puff--the pipe out,
relighted--puff, puff.]
"But, father," said Mary, "did you ever hear the history of the poor
girl?"
"Yes, I heard as how it was a hard case, how she had been seduced by
some fellow who had left her and her baby, upon which she determined to
drown herself, poor thing; and her baby too. Had she only tried to
drown her baby I should have said it was quite unnatural; but as she
wished to drown herself at the same time, I considers that drowning the
baby to take it to heaven with her was quite natural, and all agreeable
to human natur'. Love's a sense which young women should keep down as
much as possible, Mary; no good comes of that sense."
"And yet, father, it appears to me to be human nature," replied Mary.
"So it is, but there's mischief in it, girl, so do you never have
anything to do with it."
"Was there mischief when you fell in love with my mother and married
her?"
"You shall hear, Mary," replied old Stapleton, who recommenced.
"It was 'bout two months after the poor girl threw herself into the
river that I first seed your mother. She was then mayhap two years
older than you may be, and much such a same sort of person in her looks.
There was a young man who plied from our stairs, named Ben Jones; he
and I were great friends, and used for to help each other, and when a
fare called for oars, used to ply together. One night he says to me,
`Will, come up, and I'll show you a devilish fine piece of stuff.' So I
walks with him, and he takes me to a shop where they dealed in marine
stores, and we goes and finds your mother in the back parlour. Ben
sends for pipes and beer, and we sat down and made ourselves
comfortable. Now, Mary, your mother was a very jilting kind of girl,
who would put one fellow off to take another, just as her whim and fancy
took her." [I looked at Mary, who cast down her eyes.] "Now these women
do a mint of mischief among men, and it seldom ends well; and I'd sooner
see you in your coffin to-morrow, Mary, than think you should be one of
this flaunting sort. Ben Jones was quite in for it, and wanted for to
marry her, and she had turned off a fine young chap for him, and he used
to come there every night, and it was supposed that they would be
spliced in the course of a month; but when I goes there she cuts him
almost altogether, and takes to me, making such eyes at me, and drinking
beer out of my pot, and refusing his'n, till poor Jones was quite mad
and beside himself. Well, it wasn't in human natur' to stand those
large blue eyes (just like yours, Mary), darting fire at a poor fellow;
and when Jones got up in a surly humour, and said it was time to go
away, instead of walking home arm in arm, we went side by side, like two
big dogs with their tails as stiff up as a crowbar, and ready for a
fight; neither he nor I saying a word, and we parted without saying
good-night. Well, I dreamed of your mother all that night, and the next
day went to see her, and felt worser and worser each time, and she
snubbed Jones, and at last told him to go about his business. This was
'bout a month after I had first seen her; and then one day Jones, who
was a prize-fighter, says to me, `Be you a man?' and slaps me on the
ear. So, I knowing what he'd been a'ter, pulls off my duds, and we sets
to. We fights for ten minutes or so, and then I hits him a round blow
on the ear, and he falls down on the _hard_, and couldn't come to time.
No wonder, poor fellow! for he had gone to eternity." [Here old
Stapleton paused for half a minute, and passed his hand across his
eyes.] "I was tried for manslaughter; but it being proved that he came
up and struck me first, I was acquitted, after lying two months in gaol,
for I couldn't get no bail; but it was because I had been two months in
gaol that I was let off. At first, when I came out, I determined never
to see your mother again; but she came to me, and wound round me, and I
loved her so much that I couldn't shake her off. As soon as she found
that I was fairly hooked, she began to play with others; but I wouldn't
stand that, and every fellow that came near her was certain to have a
turn out with me, and so I became a great fighter; and she, seeing that
I was the best man, and that no one else would come to her, one fine
morning agreed to marry me. Well, we were spliced, and the very first
night I thought I saw poor Ben Jones standing by my bedside, and, for a
week or so, I was not comfortable; but, howsomever, it wore off, I plied
at the stairs, and gained my money. But my pipe's out, and I'm dry with
talking. Suppose I take a spell for a few minutes."
Stapleton relighted his pipe, and for nearly half-an-hour smoked in
silence. What Mary's thoughts were I cannot positively assert; but I
imagined that, like myself, she was thinking about her mother's conduct
and her own. I certainly was making the comparison, and we neither of
us spoke a word.
"Well," continued Stapleton, at last, "I married your mother, Mary, and
I only hope that any man who may take a fancy to you, will not have so
much trouble with his wife as I had. I thought that a'ter she were
settled she would give up all her nonsense, and behave herself--but I
suppose it was in her natur' and she couldn't help it. She made eyes
and gave encouragement to the men, until they became saucy and I became
jealous, and I had to fight one, and then the other, until I became a
noted pugilist. I will say that your mother seemed always very happy
when I beat my man, which latterly I always did; but still she liked to
be _fit_ for, and I had hardly time to earn my bread. At last, some one
backed me against another man in the ring for fifty pound aside, and I
was to have half if I won. I was very short of blunt at the time, and I
agreed; so, a'ter a little training the battle was fought, and I won
easy: and the knowing ones liked my way of hitting so much that they
made up another match with a better man, for two hundred pounds; and a
lord and other great people came to me, and I was introduced to them at
the public-house, and all was settled. So I became a regular
prize-fighter, all through your mother, Mary. Nay, don't cry, child, I
don't mean to say that your mother, with all her love of being stared at
and talked to, would have gone wrong; but still it was almost as bad in
my opinion. Well, I was put into training, and after five weeks we met
at Mousley Hurst, and a hard fight it was--but I've got the whole of it
somewhere, Mary; look in the drawer there, and you'll see a newspaper."
Mary brought out the newspaper, which was rolled up and tied with a bit
of string, and Stapleton handed it over to me, telling me to read it
aloud. I did so, but I shall not enter into the details.
"Yes, that's all right enough," said Stapleton, who had taken advantage
of my reading to smoke furiously, to make up for lost time; "but no good
came of it, for one of the gemmen took a fancy to your mother, Mary, and
tried to win her away from me. I found him attempting to kiss her, and
she refusing him--but laughing, and, as I thought, more than
half-willing; so I floored him, and put him out of the house, and after
that I never would have anything more to say with lords and gemmen, nor
with fighting either. I built a new wherry, and stuck to the river, and
I shifted my lodgings that I mightn't mix any more with those who knew
me as a boxer. Your mother was then brought to bed with you, and I
hoped for a good deal of happiness, as I thought she would only think of
her husband and child; and so she did until you were weaned, and then
she went on just as afore. There was a captain of a vessel lying in the
river, who used now and then to stop and talk with her; but I thought
little about that, seeing how every one talked with her and she with
everybody; and besides, she knew the captain's wife, who was a very
pretty woman, and used very often to ask Mary to go and see her, which I
permitted. But one morning, when I was going off to the boat--for he
had come down to me to take him to his vessel--just as I was walking
away with the sculls over my shoulder, I recollects my 'baccy box, which
I had left, and I goes back and hears him say before I came into the
door--`Recollect, I shall be here again by two o'clock, and then you
promised to come on board my ship, and see--.' I didn't hear the rest,
but she laughed and said yes, she would. I didn't show myself, but
walked away and went to the boat. He followed me, and I rowed him up
the river and took my fare--and then I determined to watch them, for I
felt mighty jealous. So I lays off on my oars in the middle of the
stream, and sure enough I see the captain and your mother get into a
small skiff belonging to his ship, and pull away; the captain had one
oar and one of his men another. I pulled a'ter them as fast as I could,
and at last they seed me; and not wishing me to find her out, she begged
them to pull away as fast as they could, for she knew how savage I would
be. Still I gained upon them, every now and then looking round and
vowing vengeance in my heart, when all of a sudden I heard a scream, and
perceived their boat to capsize, and all hands in the water. They had
not seen a warp of a vessel getting into the row, and had run over it,
and, as it tautened, they capsized. Your mother went down like a stone,
Mary, and was not found for three days a'terward; and when I seed her
sink I fell down in a fit." Here old Stapleton stopped, laid down his
pipe, and rested his face in his hands. Mary burst into tears. After a
few minutes he resumed: "When I came to, I found myself on board of the
ship in the captain's cabin, with the captain and his wife watching over
me--and then I came to understand that it was she who had sent for your
mother, and that she was living on board, and that your mother had at
first refused, because she knew that I did not like her to be on the
river, but wishing to see a ship had consented. So it was not so bad
a'ter all, only that a woman shouldn't act without her husband--but you
see, Mary, all this would not have happened if it hadn't been that I
overheard part of what was said; and you might now have had a mother,
and I a wife to comfort us, if it had not been for my unfortunate
_hearing_--so, as I said before, there's more harm than good that comes
from these senses--at least so it has proved to me. And now you have
heard my story, and how your mother died, Mary; so take care you don't
fall into the same fault, and be too fond of being looked at, which it
does somehow or another appear to me you have a bit of a hankering
a'ter--but like mother, like child, they say, and that's _human
natur'_."
When Stapleton had concluded his narrative, he smoked his pipe in
silence. Mary sat at the table, with her hands pressed to her temples,
apparently in deep thought; and I felt anything but communicative. In
half-an-hour the pot of beer was finished, and Stapleton rose.
"Come, Mary, don't be thinking so much; let's all go to bed. Show Jacob
his room, and then come up."
"Jacob can find his own room, father," replied Mary, "without my showing
him; he knows the kitchen, and there is but one other below."
I took my candle, wished them good night, and went to my bed, which,
although very homely, was at all events comfortable.