Which is all about Love--Bramble confides to me all his
Acquaintance with the tender Passion.
To conceal from Bramble or Bessy the state of mind to which I was
reduced was impossible. I was in a condition of prostration against
which I could not rally; and I believe that there never was a person who
had been disappointed in his first love who did not feel as I did--that
is, if he really loved with a sincere, pure, and holy feeling; for I do
not refer to the fancied attachments of youth, which may be said to be
like the mere flaws of wind which precede the steady gale. I could not,
for several days, trust myself to speak; I sat silent and brooding over
the words, the looks, the smiles, the scenes which had promised me a
store of future happiness--such as would probably have been the case, as
far as we can be happy in this world, had I fixed my affections upon a
true and honest, instead of a fickle and vain, woman; had I built my
house upon a rock, instead of one upon the sand--which, as pointed out
by the Scriptures, had been washed away, and had disappeared forever!
Bramble and Bessy in vain attempted to gain from me the cause of my
dejection; I believe that they had many conversations upon it when I was
absent, but whatever may have been their surmises, they treated me with
every kindness and consideration. About a week after I had received the
letter, Bramble said to me, "Come, Tom, we have had an easterly wind for
ten days now, they are going off in a galley to-morrow--suppose we go
too; it's no use staying here moping and doing nothing. You've been out
of sorts lately, and it will do you good." I thought so too, and
consented; but the other pilots were not ready, and our departure was
deferred till the day after. Bramble had acquainted me in the morning
with this delay; I was annoyed at it, for I was restless and wished for
change. My bundle had been prepared; I had passed the best part of the
night in writing to Virginia, and was, as people very often are when
under such oppressed feelings, in anything but a good humor at being
obliged to remain another day at Deal. I had walked out to the beach
after we had breakfasted, and had remained there some time. Bramble had
gone out in the direction of the post-office, and I asked him to inquire
if there was a letter for me, for I thought it very likely that Virginia
might have written to me again. I had remained for an hour on the beach,
when I recollected that my knife required to be sharpened, and I walked
round the cottage to the back yard, where there was a small grindstone.
I had not put my knife to it when I heard Bramble come in and say to
Bessy:
"Well, girl, I've found it all out; for, you see, I thought old Anderson
might know something about it, or, if he did not, he could inquire--and
I've got the whole story. Here's Anderson's letter. I thought there must
be something of that sort."
Here there was a pause, as if Bessy was reading the letter.
"Only to think--she's run away with a young lord," said Bramble.
"So it seems," replied Bessy. "I'm sorry for poor Tom, for he feels it
severely."
"I'm not sorry," rejoined Bramble; "she wasn't deserving of him; and,
Bessy, I'm glad for your sake."
"Don't say that, father; Tom will never think of me, nor do I care about
him."
"I don't exactly believe that, Bessy, for all you say so. It's my wish,
and you know it, Bessy, to see you and Tom spliced before I die; and I
thank Heaven that this false girl is out of the way--I've more hopes
now."
"Marriages are made in heaven, father," replied Bessy; "so, pray don't
say any thing more about it. It will be time enough for me to think of
Tom when Tom appears to think of me. I shall always love him as a
brother."
"Well, God's will be done! We must now try and console him, poor fellow;
and I'm very glad that we're off to-morrow. Salt water cures love, they
say, sooner than anything else."
"It may, perhaps," replied Bessy; "but I feel that if I were once really
in love the whole ocean itself could not wash my love out. However,
women are not men."
"That's true. You hug your love as you do your babies, all day long, and
never tire. Now, you see, a man gets tired of nursing in no time. I
never was in love but once."
"Oh, father, I've heard that story so often."
"Well, then, you shan't hear it again. Now, I'll go out and see where
Tom may be. I suppose he's looking at the wind, and thinking how it
changes like a woman. But I'll light my pipe first."
"Do, father; and while Tom looks at the wind and thinks of women, do you
just watch the smoke out of your pipe, and think of men and their
constancy."
"Well, I will, if it pleases you. Put the letter by, Bessy, for I
shouldn't like Tom to see it. What have you got for dinner?"
"I left that to Mrs. Maddox, so I can't tell. But there's cold pudding
in the larder; I'll put it out for Tom."
"Nay, Bessy, you must not jest with him."
"Am I likely, think you, father?" replied Bessy. "Can't I feel for him?"
"Come, come, dearest, I didn't mean to make you cry."
"I'm not crying, but I'm very sorry for Tom, and that's the truth. Now
go away with your pipe and leave me alone."
It was impossible for me to have returned without being perceived, and I
therefore remained during the whole of this conversation. I was annoyed
to discover that they knew my secret; and still more vexed at the
remainder of this colloquy, by which I discovered that Bramble had so
completely set his heart upon a union between me and Bessy, which I
considered as impossible. I felt, as all do at the time, as if I never
could love again. I walked away, and did not return home till
dinner-time. Bramble and Bessy were very kind, although they did not
talk much; and when I went away the next day I was moved with the
affectionate farewell of the latter.
It was a beautiful night, and we were running before the east wind, the
Portland Light upon our starboard beam; the other men in the boat had
lain down in their gregos and pilot jackets, and were fast asleep, while
Bramble was at the helm steering; and I, who was too restless in my mind
to feel any inclination to repose, was sitting on the sternsheets beside
him.
"Do you see the line of the _Race_" said Bramble; "it seems strong
to-night."
Bramble referred to what is called by the mariners the Race of Portland,
where the uneven ground over which the water runs creates a very heavy
sea even in a calm. Small smuggling vessels and boats, forced into it in
bad weather, have often foundered. The tide, however, runs so rapidly
over it that you are generally swept through it in a few minutes, and
then find yourself again in comparatively smooth water.
"Yes," replied I; "it is very strong to-night, from the long continuance
of the easterly wind."
"Exactly so, Tom," continued Bramble. "I've often thought that getting
into that Race is just like failing in love."
"Why so?" replied I, rather pettishly, for I was not pleased at his
referring to the subject.
"I'll tell you why, Tom," said Bramble; "because, you see, when we get
into the Race it's all boiling and bubbling and tossing about--rudder
and sails are of no use; and you are carried along by a fierce tide,
which there's no resisting, with no small damage to the upper works,
until you are fairly out again, and find breath to thank God for it.
Now, aren't that like love?"
"I suppose it is as you say so; you know best."
"Well, I think I do know best; because, you see, I have long been clear
of it. I never was in love but once, Tom; did I ever tell you about it?"
"Never," replied I.
"Well, then, as 'twill pass time away, I'll just give you the long and
the short of it, as the saying is. When I was just about twenty, and a
smart lad in my own opinion, I was on board of a transport, and we had
gone round to Portsmouth with a load of timber for the dockyard. It was
not my first trip there, for, you see, the transport was employed
wholly on that service; and during my cruising on shore I had taken up
my quarters at the Chequer Board, a house a little way from the common
Hard, in the street facing the dockyard wall; for, you see, Tom, it was
handy to us, as our ship laid at the wharf, off the mast pond, it being
just outside the dockyard gates. The old fellow who kept the house was
as round as a ball, for he never started out by any chance from one
year's end to another; his wife was dead; and he had an only daughter,
who served at the bar, in a white cap with blue streamers; and when her
hair was out of papers, and she put on clean shoes and stockings, which
she did every day after dinner, she was a very smart neat built little
heifer; and, being an only daughter, she was considered as a great catch
to any one who could get hold of her. She had quite the upper hand of
her father, who dared not say a word; and with others she would give
herself no few airs. At one time she would be as sweet as sugar, and the
next, without any cause, she'd 'wonder at your imperance.' It was
difficult to know how to take her. It's a bad thing for a girl to have a
great fortune; they get so much flattery that it turns their heads.
Well, Tom, I wasn't looking after the money, as you'll believe when I
tell you so; but as she was very chatty with me, and allowed me to come
inside the bar, which was considered as a great favor, to help rinse the
glasses, and so on, and as the other men used to joke with me, and tell
me that I should carry off the prize, I began to think that she was fond
of me, and so very naturally I became fond of her; and we met and we
parted (and she would allow me to kiss her when we parted), until I was
quite gone altogether, and did nothing but think of her all day and
dream of her all night. Well, the last time that I was in the transport
to Portsmouth, I had made up my mind to clinch the business, and as soon
as the sails were furled, I dressed myself in my best toggery and made
all sail for the old house. When I came in I found Peggy in the bar, and
a very fancy sort of young chap alongside of her. I did not think so
much of that, and I was going inside the bar to shake hands as usual,
when says she, 'Well, I should not wonder,' pulling to the half-door, as
if she were surprised at my attempting to come in.
"'Oh, ho!' says I, 'are you on that tack? what next?' and then I looked
more at the chap, and he was a very nice young man, as the saying is. As
I afterward found out, he was in the smuggling line between Cherbourg
and our coast, and he had Frenchified manners, and he talked little bits
of French, and he had French gloves for presents, and had earrings in
his ears, and lots of rings on his fingers. So I took my seat at the
wooden benches near the fire, just as sulky as a bear with a sore head,
watching their maneuvers. At last he walked out, kissing his hand as she
smiles. As the coast was clear I went up to the bar.
"'Well,' says I, 'Peggy, so the wind's shifted, is it?'
"'What do you mean?' says she. 'I suppose I may be civil to another
person as well as to you.'
"'Yes, I see no objection,' says I; 'but why was he to be inside the
bar, and I put out?'
"'Oh,' replied she, 'one at a time, you know, Mr. Philip. I haven't made
any promises to you that I know of.'
"'That's very true,' replied I, 'but--'
"'Oh, you mustn't fret here,' interrupted she. 'I'm my own mistress, I
suppose. However, I'll tell you this much, that I don't care a bit about
him, and that's the truth of it--but I did not like your coming inside
the bar so quietly, as if you had a right there, for I don't want people
to make remarks.'
"Well, the end of it was that she pacified me, and we were as great
friends almost as ever. I say almost, for I had my eyes upon her and
that chap, and did not much like it. A week after my arrival there was
to be a fair over at Ryde, in the Isle of Wight, and I asked Peggy
whether she would go with me; but she refused, saying that she was
obliged to go to her aunt's out at Limberhook, who was very old, and had
sent for her, so I thought nothing more about the matter. Well, the day
before the fair, as we were busy in the fore noon getting the timber out
of the vessel, one of my shipmates, who went to the same house, says to
me, 'I say, Tom, when I was at the Chequers last night, I overheard
Peggy promise to go to the Ryde Fair with that Frenchified smuggling
chap.'
"'Did you?' said I.
"'Yes,' replied he, 'and they agreed to start at twelve o'clock, just
after the dockyard bell rang. I thought at the time it was just to give
you the slip before you left the ship, and that she is turning you
over.'
"Well, when I heard this, did not my blood boil? for the hussy had told
me a lie in saying that she was going to her aunt's; and it was evident
that she had done so that she might go with this other fellow to the
fair. I thought the matter over and over again, for, to tell you the
truth, all I wanted then was revenge. I felt nothing but scorn for a
woman who could act in so base a manner; at the same time I wished to
punish both her and him by spoiling their day's sport; so at last I
determined that I would start right away for the fair myself, and not
only put her to shame, but give her fancy man a good drubbing, which I
was well able to do. So I walks down to Point and gets into a wherry,
keeping a sharp lookout for their coming down from the Hard. At last I
spied them, and then I made the waterman pull away, so as to keep about
three cables' lengths ahead of them, and thus I continued watching their
billing and cooing, and grinding my teeth with rage, until we had come
over to the other side. Now, you see, Tom, at that time there was no
wooden pier at Ryde as there is now, and when the tide was out there was
such a long flat of mud that there was no landing; so the way it was
managed was, the wherries came in as far as they could, and were met by
a horse and cart, which took out the passengers and carried them through
the mud and water to the hard ground. Well, when I pulled in, the man
was there with his horse and cart, and I paid my fare, and stepped out
of the wherry, expecting the man to drive off and put me on shore; but
he, seeing that there was another wherry close at hand, says he must
wait for her passengers, and make one trip of it. I did not care how
soon we met, and waited very patiently until they pulled up to us. They
were not a little surprised to see me, and not a little annoyed either.
As for Peggy, she colored to her elbows, and then tried to put up an
impudent face on the matter. He looked both foolish and angry. They were
both very smart. She had on a white gown with a yellow handkerchief on
her shoulders, a green silk bonnet and blue feathers, and he was figged
out as fine as fivepence, with white jean trousers, and rings and
chains, and Lord knows what.
"'Well,' says Peggy, as bold as brass, 'who'd have thought to have seen
you here?'
"'I did not say that I was going to see my aunt,' replied I; 'but as you
did, who would have expected to see you here?'
"'Don't talk to me, young man,' said she, as red as fire, and turning
away to her beau.
"Just as she said this, the cart drove off, the horse floundering
through the mud, which was about three feet deep, with a matter of six
inches of water above it. As she turned away aft, I turned forward,
thinking what I should do next, and then I cast my eyes down, and
observed that it was a tilting cart as they use for carrying out manure,
and that if I took the two pegs out it would fall right back. I thought
this a capital trick. The carman was sitting on his horse, and it
couldn't matter to him, so I stepped out on the front of the cart, and
standing on the shafts, I first pulled out one peg and then another,
while they were busy talking to each other, with their heads so close
that his face was under her bonnet. As soon as the second peg was out, I
helped up the front of the cart a little, and back it went, shooting
them out right headforemost in the mud. You never saw such a scramble,
for they had caught hold of each other in their fright, and they rolled
and floundered, and were half smothered before they could recover their
feet; and then a pretty pickle they were in, wet to the skin, and
covered with mud from one end to the other; they could not see out of
their eyes. Peggy did nothing but scream and flounder--she was
frightened out of her wits--while the carman and I laughed ready to
split. I gave him half a crown to drive on shore without them, which he
did, and we left them to make their way out how they could; and a pretty
pickle they did come out at last. Thus was their day's pleasure, as well
as their clothes, all spoiled; and instead of dancing at the fair and
seeing all the sights, they were shivering in their wet clothes, and the
laughingstocks to all that saw them.
"Depend upon it, I did not leave them after they had crawled out to the
beach. The fellow was, as you may suppose, as savage as a bull, and very
saucy, so I took off my jacket that I might not dirty myself, and gave
him a couple of black eyes and a bloody nose for his trouble; and as for
Peggy, I pretended to be so sorry for her, and condoled with her so
much, that at last she flew at me like a tigress--and as I knew that
there was no honor, and plenty of mud, to be gained by the conflict, I
took to my heels and ran off to the fair, where I met some of my friends
and told them what had happened, and then we had a very merry day of it,
and I felt quite cured of my love; for, you see, Peggy looked so ugly
and miserable when she was in the state I left her, that I had only to
think of her as when I last saw her, and all my love was gone."
"Did you ever meet her again?"
"I met her that very night; for, you see, she had gone to a cottage and
taken off her clothes, having insisted upon her fancy man going back to
Portsmouth to fetch her others to go home in. He dared not refuse, so
off he went in the pickle that he was. But he didn't come back again,
for, you see, there was a warrant out against him for an affray at Bear
Haven, in which a King's officer was killed; and after he had changed
his own clothes, and was proceeding to get some for her from the
Chequers, he was met by the constable who had the warrant, and carried
off handcuffed to jail, and afterward he was transported--so she never
saw him again. Well, Peggy, poor creature, had been waiting for him for
hours, expecting his return; and it was past ten o'clock when I was
coming down with some others, and saw her at the door of the cottage
weeping.
"'Good-night, Peggy,' says I.
"'Oh, Philip, do be kind, do come to me; I'm frightened out of my life.
I shall have to stay here all night.'
"So, you see, I did feel some little pity for her, and I went up to
her, and she told me how she had sent him, and he had never come back
again.
"'The fact is,' says I, 'Peggy, you aren't smart enough for such a
Frenchified chap as he is. He don't like to be seen in your company.
Come, get up, and I will see you home, at all events;' so I took charge
of her, and saw her safe to her father's door.
"'Won't you come in?' said she.
"'No, thank you,' says I.
"'Won't you forgive me, Philip?' said she.
"'Yes," says I, 'I'll forgive you, for old acquaintance' sake, and for
one more reason.'
"'What's that?' says Peggy.
"'Why,' says I, 'for the lesson which you've learned me. I've been made
a fool of once, and it's your fault; but if ever a woman makes a fool of
me again, why, then it's mine. And so, Peggy, good-by forever.'
"So I turned away on my heel, and as I left the transport the next trip,
I never saw her again."
"Well, Bramble," replied I, "I agree with you; and if ever a woman makes
a fool of me _again_, it will be my fault. You know what's happened, so
I don't mind saying so."
"Why, Tom, in your present humor, you think so; but all do not keep to
the same way of thinking as I did till it was too late to think about
marrying; but still I do not think that I should have been happy as a
single man, if it had not been for my falling in with Bessy. I should
have been very lonely, I expect, for I began to feel so. When you come
to your own door, Tom, home looks cheerless if there is no bright eye to
welcome you, and the older a man gets the more he feels that he was not
intended to live single. My yearning after something to love and to love
me, which is in our nature, was satisfied, first by having Bessy, and
then by having you--and I'm thankful."
"You might have married, and have been very unhappy."
"I might, and I might have been very happy, had I chosen a wife as a man
should do."
"And how is that, pray, Bramble?"
"Why, Tom, I've often thought upon it. In the first place look out for
good temper: if you find that you may be happy, even if your wife is a
silly woman; assure yourself first of her temper, and then you must
judge her by the way in which she does those duties which have fallen to
her lot; for if a girl is a dutiful and affectionate daughter there is
little fear but that she will prove a loving and obedient wife. But I
think we have had our spell here, Tom, and it's rather cold: rouse up
one of those chaps, and tell him to come to the helm. I'll coil myself
up and have a snooze till the morning, and do you do the same."