"We can't prove it, even if he were," said my father. "He deserves
punishment, but the law is expensive and uncertain, and I should prefer
letting him alone."
As far as I could tell the matter was likely to rest here. I lost a
jacket and waistcoat, but was not otherwise the worse for my adventure.
The next day, however, a letter came by the post addressed to my father,
at the top of which was a death's head and cross-bones, very rudely
drawn, and beneath it the words:--
"Informers must look out for what informers deserve. The young master
who got off t'other day must look out for squalls. He has been and dug
his own grave, and in it he'll lie before long; so he had better say his
prayers. He won't have long to say them. This comes from one who knows
him. John Grimes."
My father turned pale when he read the letter. Aunt Deb insisted on
seeing it, and then my mother wished to read the contents. She almost
fainted.
"This is terrible," she exclaimed. "Yet, surely, the smugglers will not
have the barbarity to injure a mere boy like Dick."
"I'm not so certain of that," said Aunt Deb. "Warnings ought not to be
neglected. I have long been contemplating paying a visit to my second
cousin, Godfrey Butterfield, who is now a flourishing merchant at
Liverpool. I'll write and say that I am coming, and bringing with me
one of my nephews. I shall not wait for an answer, but will set off
immediately; for I'm certain I shall be welcome."
When Aunt Deb said this I saw a smile on the countenance of my elder
sisters and brothers, who had not been so much affected by the
threatening letter as the rest of the family.
"I'll post the letter at once, and we will set off this evening. What
do you say, John?"
My father at once agreed to Aunt Deb's proposal.
"Thank you!" exclaimed my mother. "I shall be much more at my ease when
Dick is out of the reach of these terrible men."
Aunt Deb wrote and despatched her letter, and the rest of the morning
was employed in making preparations for the journey. Ned had to give up
one of his jackets and waistcoats, which exactly fitted me, and my other
things were quickly packed in a small chest. I also unrigged and did up
the cutter which Roger Riddle had given me, as I fancied I should have
an opportunity of sailing it at Liverpool. I made Ned also promise to
go and call on the old man, and to tell him how sorry I was to hear that
Mark had been sent off to sea, and how much I regretted not being able
to wish him good-bye before I went.
We had some distance to drive before we reached the town at which the
coach stopped. My father at once sent off for a postchaise, and old
Thomas went on the box, armed as before with a blunderbuss and a couple
of horse-pistols. As we drove through the village Aunt Deb made me sit
back, while she leant forward as if there was no one else inside.
Whether or not this precaution was necessary I don't know; but at all
events we reached our destination without being stopped by highwaymen.
There were two places vacant in the coach, and although I should have
preferred going outside, Aunt Deb insisted on my remaining with her.
The other passengers were fat old women, who eat apples and drank
gin-and-water for supper, and then snored, and sneezed, and groaned all
night long. I know that I wished myself anywhere but where I was. The
old ladies talked of highwaymen, coaches stopped, and passengers
murdered, till they talked themselves into a state of nervous fear. One
or the other was constantly poking her head out of the window, and
declaring that she saw a man galloping after the coach with a
blunderbuss over his shoulder. However, as the guard gave no signal, I
was very sure that their imaginations had conjured up the robber.
"Pray, ladies, do sit quiet," at length exclaimed Aunt Deb, who being a
strong-minded woman was not influenced by similar fears. "It will be
time enough to cry out if a highwayman does come to demand our purses,
and we'll hope that the guard will shoot him dead before he has had time
to open the door."
"Oh! How dreadful!" shrieked out one of the ladies. "I would sooner
let him have everything he asked for than see a handsome highwayman
shot."
"Fiddle-de-dee about a handsome highwayman," said Aunt Deb, in a
scornful tone. "They're ugly ruffians, and miserable arrant cowards to
boot. If one does venture to stop the coach, I'll not give him any of
my property as long as I have hands to defend it."
Notwithstanding Aunt Deb's remarks, our fellow-travellers continued in
the same state of alarm the greater part of the night, and to comfort
themselves took further sips of gin; until, becoming perfectly fuddled,
they dropped off to sleep.
I almost wished that a highwayman would appear, to see how Aunt Deb
would behave; but morning at length dawned, and I fell asleep, nor did I
wake till the coach stopped for breakfast. We travelled on all day with
the same unpleasant companions, and I was glad to find that we were to
go no farther that night. I remember that I dropped off to sleep before
supper was over, and was very unwilling to get up the next morning when
Aunt Deb called me. The fear of offending her, notwithstanding, made me
jump out of bed and hurry on my clothes, and I was in time to take my
seat in the coach, which came up soon after breakfast. She still
refused to let me go outside, and I had to endure another day's misery,
shut up with her and a lady and a fat gentleman, who took snuff and
snored, and nearly tumbled over me in his sleep, and a young woman with
a baby, who at intervals kept up a chorus of squalls, which considerably
aggravated my respected aunt; and I really thought that, if she had
given way to her feelings, she would have tossed it out of the window.
As sublunary troubles always do, the journey came to an end, and the
coach deposited us at the door of Mr Butterfield, Aunt Deb's cousin.
The worthy merchant--a bald-headed, rosy-faced gentleman, of large
proportions, who wore brown cloth knee-breeches, large silver buckles, a
flowered waistcoat of ample length, with a snowy neckcloth, and a
frilled shirt, a coat of the same hue as his unmentionables--received
us, as he descended the steps, with a cordiality I little expected.
"Glad to see you, Cousin Deb, though times have changed since you and I
played hide-and-seek in our great-aunt's garden. You have shot up in
one direction and I have grown in the other considerably. And this is
John Cheveley's boy, is he? You are welcome to Liverpool, lad. We'll
see what we can make of you here. Plant you on a high stool, and set
you quill-driving. Are you a good hand at figuring? We don't value the
Latin and Greek most lads have crammed into their heads to the exclusion
of all other useful knowledge. Pounds, shillings, and pence are what we
have to do with in our commercial city."
Thus the old gentleman ran on without even waiting for me to answer. He
then conducted us to our bedchambers; and as soon as we had washed our
hands we descended to the supper-room, where the board was amply spread.
He did not again allude to the high stool and quill-driving, but his
remark had made a deep impression on my mind. There was nothing I hated
so much as the thought of being shut up in a counting-house. He asked
me if I was accustomed to go out alone, and satisfied on that score from
what Aunt Deb and I said, he told me that I might amuse myself the next
morning by exploring Liverpool, provided I took good note of the way
home. This was just what I thought of doing, and to my relief Aunt Deb
said she would be too tired to go out.
Accordingly the next morning, after breakfast, I got ready to sally
forth. Mr Butterfield had gone to his office, and did not see me. I
in reality cared very little for exploring the town, and accordingly
inquired my way to the river. Instead of the stream I expected to find
I saw a broad expanse of water, with vessels of all rigs and sizes in
spacious docks, or moored alongside the quays. I was going along the
quay when I saw a large ship taking in cargo. Making my way on till I
got astern of her, I observed that she was called the "Emu." I walked
up and down admiring her amazingly.
"Now if I can't go on board a man of war, and wear a cockade and a dirk
by my side, I should like to take a voyage in a ship like that. What a
magnificent craft! What proud fellows the captain and officers must be
to belong to that ship. I wonder whether the captain would like me as a
midshipman? The crew--I can fancy how they sit on the forecastle and
sing `Rule Britannia,' `Poor Tom Bowling,' `One night it blew a
hurricane.' Happy chaps! I should like to belong to her. I think I'll
go on board and ask the captain to take me.
"Mr Butterfield evidently intends that I should go into his
counting-house. Dreadful work to have to set on a high stool, to dot
and carry one, and to scribble away all day. I could not stand it. It
would kill me. It was bad enough to have to go to school, and then we
had a good many play-hours; but in these stuffy, musty, dark offices, I
have heard that they have only half-an-hour for dinner, and work away
till ten o'clock at night. That sort of life would never suit me.
"Yes, I'll go and see the captain, and I'll tell him that I was intended
for the navy, that I should have become an admiral some day, and that
will make him treat me with consideration."
Such were my cogitations as I stood, with my hands in my pockets, gazing
at the "Emu." When it came to the point I felt somewhat nervous about
going to speak to the captain. Perhaps he would not treat me with the
respect I should desire. He might not have a vacant berth, and I could
scarcely expect a stranger to make a place for me. At last, after
walking backwards and forwards very often, I ascended a plank which led
me to the gangway in the after part of the ship, and stepped on board.
For some time, all the men being occupied in hoisting in cargo, no one
took notice of me. I was thinking that I must go and speak to the
captain if I were to speak to him at all, when one of the men coming aft
asked me what I wanted.
"I wish to see the captain of this ship," I said.
"He is not on board, and is not likely to be until she sails," he
replied. "Do you bring any message for him? If you do, you had better
see the second mate."
"No thank you," I replied; "I want to see the captain," in as important
a tone as I could command.
"Well, then, you may find the captain at the ship-broker's in Dale
Street."
This threw me out, for I knew that the second mate would not have power
to receive me on board, and I did not like the thought of having to
confront the captain in an office full of clerks. I therefore, losing
courage, turned round and walked on shore again. Still I could not tear
myself from the ship, but continued pacing backwards and forwards, now
taking a look at her lofty masts and spars, now at her hull freshly
painted, now at the men working at the cranes and tackles hoisting in
cargo.
While I was thus engaged a sailor-like man, who I supposed was an
officer, stopped near me.
"Please, sir," I said, "could you tell me where that ship is going to?"
"Yes, my lad. She's bound out by Cape Horn into the Pacific, and up the
west coast of America, and perhaps to go across to Australia, and may be
away for two or three years."
"Thank you, sir," I said. "She's a very fine ship."
"As to that there are many finer, but she's a tidy craft in her way,"
remarked the seaman, turning on his heel.
"Now that is just the sort of voyage I should like to make. To double
great Cape Horn. What a grand idea! And visit the country of the Incas
and Peruvians, and the wonderful coral islands of the Pacific. I am
much inclined to ask Mr Butterfield if he can get me on board her.
Perhaps she's one of his ships, and I shall then very likely come back
as a mate. I might have to remain a long time in the navy before I
became a lieutenant, and after all perhaps one might enjoy a much more
independent life in the merchant service.
"Yes, I'll ask the old gentleman; but then I'm afraid Aunt Deb will
interfere. She doesn't want me to go to sea, and she'll say all sorts
of things to prevent him doing what I wish. There's nothing like
trying, however; and if he agrees, I must get him to obtain Aunt Deb's
consent to my going. I'm sure my father won't make any objection."
Having arrived at this conclusion, I was now eager to get back to have a
talk with Mr Butterfield. I forgot that he was not likely to leave his
office till much later in the day. I had become desperately hungry
also, and as I had come out without any money in my pocket, I was unable
to buy a bun or a roll to appease my appetite. I set off, fancying that
I should have no difficulty in finding my way, but I wandered about for
a couple of hours or more before I succeeded in getting back to Mr
Butterfield's house.
Aunt Deb received me with a frown.
"Now where have you been all this time?" she asked. "I've had luncheon
an hour or so, or more. I suppose the servant has cleared the things
away, and you can't expect her to bring them up again for your
pleasure."
"Thank you, Aunt Deb," I answered. "But I'll just run and see."
To my infinite satisfaction, on going into the parlour I found the table
still covered with roast beef, and pies, tarts, and puddings; for Mr
Butterfield liked the good things of this life, and wished his friends
to enjoy them also. Didn't I tuck in. I often afterwards thought of
that luncheon; it presented itself to me in my dreams; I recollected it
with longing affection during my waking hours. I helped myself to two
or three glasses of wine to wash down the food. With a sigh of regret I
felt that I could eat no more. I then stowed myself away in a
comfortable arm-chair in the corner of the room, and very naturally fell
fast asleep. I had a dim recollection of seeing Aunt Deb come into the
room to look for me, but as I didn't speak, she left the room supposing
that I had gone out of the house to take another walk. When I awoke
Martha was laying the things for dinner.
"Why, Master Cheveley, Miss Deborah has been asking for you for ever so
long," she said. "You had better go and see her, for she's in a
dreadful taking, I can assure you."
I knew Aunt Deb too well to venture into her presence under the
circumstances if I could avoid it, so I ran into my room, washed my
hands, and brushed my hair, so as to present myself in a respectable
state before Mr Butterfield. I watched for him till he went into the
drawing-room, and then followed. Aunt Deb had not yet come down. I was
thinking of asking him about my going to sea on board the "Emu." He
didn't give me the opportunity, but he at once questioned me as to what
I had seen in the city.
"You think Liverpool a very fine place?" he remarked.
"Yes, sir, a very fine place indeed," I answered boldly.
But when he came to inquire where I had been, and what part I admired
most, I was nonplussed, and had nothing to say about the matter. My
thoughts had been entirely occupied with the docks and the shipping.
"Ah, yes, Liverpool has become an important port; superior to Bristol,
or Hull; and some day we shall be equal to London, we flatter
ourselves."
I thought this would be a good opportunity of telling him how fond I was
of the sea, and that I hoped he would let me go on board one of his
ships, when just at that moment Aunt Deb entered. She began scolding me
for having absented myself so long from her, but Mr Butterfield
interfered.
"The lad naturally wishes to see a new place, where he may spend some
time perhaps. So don't be too hard on him, Cousin Deborah."
We soon went down to dinner, and Aunt Deb said no more. I ate as many
of the good things as I could, but after so large a luncheon I had less
room than usual. Mr Butterfield placed my moderation to the score of
my modesty.
"Come, come, lad, eat away," he said. "These things were given to us
for our benefit, and can't fail to do us good."
I at last had to give in, letting Martha take away my plate with a large
portion of its contents untasted. I should have liked to have remained
to talk to Mr Butterfield when Aunt Deb retired, but she insisted on my
coming up, afraid that the old gentleman in his hospitality would be
giving me more wine than would be good for me. I had thus no
opportunity of talking to him alone. The following morning I begged
leave to go out again. Mr Butterfield willingly consented, though Aunt
Deb observed that I should be better employed at home summing and
writing.
"He'll have enough of that by-and-by. In the meantime he can learn his
way about the city," said the old gentleman.