WAITING AND LEARNING.
What this great man now said to me had better not be set down perhaps;
because it proved him incapable of forming due estimate of my character.
Enough that he caused me some alarm and considerable annoyance by his
supercilious vein, and assumption of evil motives. Whereas you could not
find anywhere purer or loftier reasons, and I might say, more poetical
ones, than those which had led me to abstain from speaking of the fair
young lady. However, as this Chowne had learned all about her, from some
skulking landsman, whom he maintained as a spy at the back of the
premises, it was certain that I could in no way harm her, by earning a
trifle of money in front, in a thoroughly open and disciplined way. And
it might even lie in my power thereby to defeat the devices of enemies,
and rescue this beautiful young female from any one who would dare to
think of presuming to injure her.
I found my breast and heart aglow with all the fine feeling of younger
days, the moment the above occurred to me; and it would not have cost me
two blows to knock down any man who misunderstood me. However, his
Reverence did not afford me any chance for this exercise; but seemed to
allow me the benefit which such ideas afford a man; and promised to
give me three half-crowns, instead of five shillings a week, as before.
He allowed me a hay-loft to sleep in that night, after taking good care
that I had not even a flint to strike a light with. For, cordially as he
did enjoy the firing of an enemy's barns or stacks, his Reverence never
could bear the idea of so much as a spark coming near his own. And the
following morning I saddled my horse, with a good chain undergirding,
and taking turn and turn about, got home to the Rose of Devon.
And here I found very unjust work, Fuzzy gone, and Ike not to be found,
and the ketch laid up for the winter. Only Bang, the boy, was left, and
the purpose of his remaining was to bear me a wicked message. Namely,
that I had been so much away, both in the boat and on horseback, that
the captain would not be bound to me, except to get home again, how I
might. And if this could not be brought about, and I chose to take care
of the ketch for the winter, two shillings a-week was what I might draw,
also the wood on the wharf, so long as it would last for firing; and any
fish I could catch with lines; and any birds I could shoot on the river,
with a stone of rock-powder that was in the hold.
Bang was ashamed to deliver this message; and I cannot describe to you
my wrath, as slowly I wrung it out of him. His head went into his neck
almost, for fear of my taking it by the handles, which nature had
provided in his two ears, and letting him learn (as done once before)
that the mast had harder knots in it. But I always scorn injustice; and
Bang was not to be blamed for this. So I treated him kindly; as I might
wish a boy of my own to be treated by a man of large experience. And I
let him go home to his mother's house, which was said to be somewhere
within a league, and then I went to see what manners had been shown in
the pickling-tub.
Here I found precious little indeed, and only the bottom stuff of
coxcombs, tails, and nails, and over-harpings, thready bits, and
tapeworm stuff, such as we pray deliverance from, unless it comes to
famine. Nevertheless, in my now condition I grieved that there was not
more of it. Because how could I get across to my native land again? All
the small coasting-craft were laid up, as if they were china for
shelfing, immediately after that gale of wind, which (but for me) must
have capsized us. These fellows up the rivers never get a breath of
seamanship. Sudden squalls are all they think of. Sea room, and the
power of it, they would be afraid of.
At one time I thought of walking home, because none of these traders
would venture it; and if I had only a guinea to start with on the road
to Bristol, nothing could have stopped me. For, say what I might to
myself about it, and reason however carefully, I could not reconcile
with my conscience these things that detained me. The more I considered
only three half-crowns, and the mere chance of wild-ducks on the river,
the less I perceived how my duty lay, and the more it appeared to be
movable. And why was I bound to stop here like this, when their place
was to take me home again, according to stipulation? To apply to the
mayor, as I knew, was useless, especially now that I owed him a bill; as
for the bench of magistrates, one had already a bias against me, because
I went into a wood one night to watch an eclipse of the moon, and took
my telescope; which they all swore was a gun! Being disappointed with
the moon's proceedings, I slammed up my telescope hastily, and at the
same time puffed my pipe; and there was a fellow on watch so vile as to
swear to the sound and the smoke of a gun! And this fellow proved to be
a Welshman of the name of Llewellyn, and a cousin of mine within seven
generations! I acquit him of knowing this fact at the time; and when in
cross-examination I let him know it, and nobody else, he came back to
his duty, and swore white all the black he had sworn before.
Nevertheless I did not like it (though acquitted amidst universal
applause) on account of the notoriety; and finding him one night upon
the barge walk, and his manners irritating, I was enabled to impress him
with a sense of consanguinity. And after that I might bear my telescope,
and take observations throughout the coverts, whenever the pheasants did
not disturb me.
This privilege, and a flight of wild-ducks, followed by a team of geese,
and rumours even of two wild swans, moderated my desire to be back at
home again. There no man can get a shot, except in very bitter weather,
or when the golden plovers come in, unless he likes to take on himself a
strong defiance of public opinion. Because Colonel Lougher is so kind,
and so forbears to prosecute, that to shoot his game is no game at all,
and shames almost any man afterwards. And the glory of all that
night-work is, the sense of wronging somebody.
Moreover, a little thing occurred, which, in my doubt of conclusion, led
me to stay a bit longer. Some people may think nothing of it, but a kind
touch takes a hold on me. I have spoken of a boy, by the name of Bang,
possessing many good qualities, yet calling for education. Of this I
had given him some little, administered not to his head alone, but to
more influential quarters; and the result was a crop of gratitude
watered by humility. When he went home for the winter months, I expected
to hear no more of him, having been served in that manner often by boys
whom I have corrected. Therefore all who have ever observed the want of
thankfulness in the young, will enter into my feelings when an ancient
woman, Bang's grandmother, hailed me in a shaky voice over the side of
my ketch, with Bang in the distance watching her. Between her feet was a
good large basket, which with my usual fine feeling I leaped out to ease
her of. But on no account would she let me touch it, until she knew more
about me.
"Be you the man?" she said.
"Madam," I answered, "I be the man."
"The man as goes on so wicked to Bang, for the sake of his soul
hereafter?"
"Yes, madam, I am he who clothed in the wholesome garb of severity a
deep and parental affection;" for now I smelled something uncommonly
good.
"Be you the chap as wolloped him?"
"That I can proudly say I am."
"Look 'e see, here, this be for 'e, then!"
With no common self-approval, I observed what she turned out; although I
longed much to unpack them myself, for fear of her spoiling anything.
But she put me back in a wholesale manner, and spread it all out like a
market-stand. And really it was almost enough to make a market of; for
she was a very wiry old woman, and Bang had helped carry, as far as the
wharf, when he saw me, and fled. Especially did I admire a goose, fat
with golden fat upon him, trussed, and laid on stuffing-herbs. Also, a
little pig for roasting, too young to object to it, yet with his
character formed enough to make his brains delicious. And as for
sausages--but no more.
The goodness of these things preserved me from going off on the tramp
just yet. That is the last thing a sailor should do, though gifted with
an iron-tipped wooden leg. The Government drove me into it once, when my
wound allowed me to be discharged; but it took more out of my
self-respect than ever I have recovered. And if I do anything under the
mark (which, to my knowledge, I never do), it dates from the time the
King drove me to alms. However, I never do dwell upon that, unless
there is something wrong down in my hold; and when that is right, I am
thankful again. And none of that ever befalls me, when I get my rations
regular. But who cares to hear any more about me, with all these great
things coming on? You may look on me now as nobody.
Because I fell so much beneath my own idea of myself, and all that
others said of me, through my nasty want of strength, when Parson Chowne
came over me. It is easy enough to understand that a man, in
good-nature, may knock under to another man of good-nature also; all in
friendship and in fun, and for the benefit of the world. But for a man
of intellect not so very far under the average--as will now be admitted
of me, in spite of all inborn diffidence--as well as a man of a
character formed and framed by experience, now to be boarded and
violently driven under hatches, without any power to strike a blow, by a
man who was never on board of a ship--at any rate to my knowledge; to
think of this and yet not help it, made me chafe like a fellow in irons.
There was one thing, however, that helped to make me put up with my
present position a little, and that was my hope to be truly of service
to my genuine benefactor, poor Sir Philip Bampfylde. This old gentleman
clearly was not going on very comfortably; and Parson Chowne had given
me to understand, without any words, that the great chest landed at the
end of his house, was full of arms and all other treason. These were to
be smuggled in, after the Captain's departure; and the Captain would not
enter the house, through fear of the servants suspecting something.
I could not reconcile this account with what I had seen the young lady
do, and the Captain's mode of receiving it; but as I would not tell the
Parson a word about that young lady, I could not make that objection to
him. Nor did I say, though I might have done so, that I would not and
could not believe for a moment that any British naval captain would
employ his ship and crew for a purpose of high treason to his lawful
master. That Parson Chowne should dare to think that I would swallow
such stuff as that, made me angry with myself for not having
contradicted him. But all this time I was very wise, and had no call to
reproach myself. Seldom need any man repent for not having said more
than he did; and never so needeth a Welshman.
And now, though I still took observation of Narnton Court (as in honour
bound to deserve my salary), and though the Parson still rode down, and
went the round of the deck at times when nobody could expect him; yet it
was not in my nature to be kept from asking something as to all these
people. You may frighten a man, and scare his wits, and keep him under,
and trample on him, and even beat his feelers down, and shut him up like
a jellyfish; but, after all this, if he is a man, he will want to know
the reason. For this makes half of the difference between man and the
lower animals:--the latter, when punished, accept it as a thing that
must befall them; and so do the negroes, and all proper women: but a man
always wants to know why it must be; though it greatly increases his
trouble to ask, and still more to tell it again, if you please.
Sir Philip Bampfylde, as every one said, was a very nice gentleman
indeed, the head of an ancient family, and the owner of a large estate.
Kind, moreover, and affable, though perhaps a little stately, from
having long held high command and important rank in the army. Some years
ago he had attained even to the rank of general, which is the same thing
among land-forces as an admiral is with us; and he was so proud of this
position that he always wished to be so addressed, rather than by the
title which had been so long in the family. For his argument was that he
had to thank good fortune for being a baronet, whereas good conduct and
perseverance alone could have made him a general. Now if these had made
him an admiral, I would always entitle him so; as it is, I shall call
him "Sir Philip," or "General," just as may happen to come to my mind.
Now this gentleman had two sons, and no other children; the elder was
Philip Bampfylde, Esquire, and the younger Captain Drake Bampfylde, of
whom I have spoken already. Philip, the heir, had been appointed to
manage the family property, which spread for miles and miles away; and
this gave him quite enough to do, because his father for years and years
was away on foreign service. And during this time Squire Philip married
a lady of great beauty, sent home by his father from foreign parts after
rescue from captivity. She was of very good extraction, so far as
foreigners can be, and a princess (they said) in her own right, though
without much chance of getting it. And she spoke the prettiest broken
English, being very sensitive.
Well, everything thus far went purely enough, and the lady had brought
him a pair of twins, and was giving good promise of going on, and
everybody was pleased with her, and most of all her husband, and Sir
Philip was come home from governorship, but only on leave of absence,
and they were trying hard to persuade him now to retire and live in
peace, when who should come with his evil luck to spoil everything, but
Drake Bampfylde? How it came to pass was not clearly known, at least to
the folk on our side of the river, or those whom I met in Barnstaple.
And I durst not ask on the further side, that is to say around Narnton
Court, because the Parson's spies were there. Only the old women felt
pretty sure that they had heard say, though it might be wrong, that
Captain Drake Bampfylde had drowned the children, some said by accident,
some said on purpose, and buried them somewhere on Braunton Burrows. And
the effect of this on the foreign lady, being as she was, poor thing,
might have been foreseen almost. For she fell into untimely pains, and
neither herself nor her babe survived, exactly as happened to my son's
wife.
This was a very sad story, I thought, but they said that the worst of it
still lay behind: for poor Squire Philip had been so upset by the hurry
of all these misfortunes, that nobody knew what to do with him. He
always had been a most warm-hearted man, foolishly fond of his wife and
children, and of a soft and retiring nature. Moreover, he looked on his
younger brother, who had seen so much more of the world than himself,
and was of a bolder character, not with an elder son's usual
carelessness, but with a thorough admiration. And when he found him
behave in this manner (according, at least, to what every one said), and
all for the sake of the property, without a sharp word between them, it
went to his heart, in the thick of his losses, so that he was beside
himself. He let his beard grow and his hair turn white, although he was
not yet forty, and he put up the shutters of his room, and kept candles
around him, and little dolls. He refused to see his brother Drake, and
his father Sir Philip, and everybody, except his own attendant, and the
nurse of his poor children. And finding this, the Captain left the
house, as if cursed out of it.
The only one who took things bravely was the ancient General. Much as he
grieved at the loss of his race, and extinction, perhaps, of the family,
he swore that he never would be cast down, or doubt the honour of his
favourite son, until that son confessed it. This Drake Bampfylde had
never done, although the case was hard against him, and scarcely any
one, except his father, now stood up for him. But of the few who still
held him guiltless, was one especial comforter: Isabel Carey to wit, a
young lady of very good Devonshire family, left as a ward to Sir Philip
Bampfylde, and waiting for three or four years more of age, to come into
large estates in South Devon.
The general people did not know this; but I happened to get ahead of
them; and having a knack in my quiet way of putting two and two
together, also having seen the Captain, and shaped my opinions, I would
have staked my boat against a cuttle-fish that he was quite innocent. If
the children were found buried--although I could never quite get at
this, but only a story of a man who had seen him doing it, as I shall
tell hereafter--but even supposing them deep in the sand (which I was a
little inclined to do, from trusting my spy-glass so thoroughly), yet
there might have been other people quite as likely to put them there as
that unlucky Captain Drake.
It has been my lot to sail under a great many various captains, not only
whom I have hinted at in the days when I was too young for work, but
whom I mean to describe hereafter in my far greater experiences; really
finding (although I have tried to convince people to the contrary) that
what they have told me was perfectly true, and that I come out far
stronger and better whenever my reins are tried and proved; and my loins
as sound as a bell, although hereditary from King David. Let that pass.
I find one fault, and it is the only one to be found with me; it is that
the style of our bards will come out, and spread me abroad in their
lofty allusions.
To come back to these captains. I never found one who would do such a
thing as kill and slay two children, much less dig their graves in the
sand, and come home to dinner afterwards. And of all the captains I had
seen, Drake Bampfylde seemed as unfit as any to do a thing of that
dirtiness. However, as I have not too much trust in human nature (after
the way it has used me, and worst of all when in the Government), I said
to myself that it was important to know at what time this Captain
Bampfylde won the love of that fine Miss Carey. Because, after that, he
had no temptation to put the little ones out of the way; and I quite
settled it in my own mind, that if they had set up their horses
together, before the young children went out of the world, Captain Drake
Bampfylde was not likely to have made them go so. For that fair maiden's
estates, I was told, would feed four hundred people.
No one had seen this, exactly as I did, nor could I beat it into them;
and I found from one or two symptoms that it was high time for me to
leave off talking. Parson Chowne came down one night, as black as a
tarred thunderbolt, and though he said nothing to let me know, I felt
afraid of his meaning. Also Parson Jack rode down, in his headlong
careless way, and filled his pipe from my tobacco-bag, and gave me a
wink, and said, "Keep your mouth shut." It was always a pleasure to me
to behold him; whatever his principles may have been, and if I could
have said a word to stop him from his downward road, or to make it go
less sudden, goodness knows I would have done it, at the risk of three
half-crowns a-week.