"Jus' so," continued the captain, "you seem to be the right
craft--'ooman, I mean--that I'm in search of. These two boys, who were
supposed to be brothers, because of their each havin' a brown mole of
exactly the same size and shape on their left arms, just below their
elbows, were named `Stout,' after the thing in which they was headed up,
the one bein' christened James, the other Willum?"
"Yes, yes," replied the little old woman eagerly, "and a sweet lovely
pair they was when the head of that barrel was took off, lookin' out of
the straw in which they was packed like two little cheruphims, though
they did smell strong of the double X, and was a little elevated because
of the fumes that 'ung about the wood. But how do you come to know all
this, sir, and why do you ask?"
"Excuse me, ma'am," replied the sailor with a smile, which curled up his
huge moustache expressively,--"you shall know presently, but I must make
quite sure that I'm aboard of--that is to say, that you _are_ the right
'ooman. May I ask, ma'am, what became of these two cheruphims, as
you've very properly named 'em?"
"Certainly," answered Mrs Roby, "the elder boy--we considered him the
elder, because he was the first took out of the barrel--was a stoodious
lad, and clever. He got into a railway company, I believe, and became a
rich man--married a lady, I'm told,--and changed his name to Stoutley,
so 'tis said, not thinkin' his right name suitable to his circumstances,
which, to say truth, it wasn't, because he was very thin. I've heard it
said that his family was extravagant, and that he went to California to
seek his brother, and look after some property, and died there, but I'm
not rightly sure, for he was a close boy, and latterly I lost all
knowledge of him and his family."
"And the other cheruphim, Willum," said the sailor, "what of him?"
"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs Roby, a flush suffusing her wrinkled countenance,
while her black eyes twinkled more than usual, "he was a jewel, _he_
was. They said in the hospital that he was a wild good-for-nothing boy,
but _I_ never thought him so. He was always fond of me--very fond of
me, and I of him. It is true he could never settle to anythink, and at
last ran away to sea, when about twelve year old; but he didn't remain
long at that either, for when he got to California, he left his ship,
and was not heard of for a long time after that. I thought he was dead
or drowned, but at last I got a letter from him, enclosing money, an'
saying he had been up at the noo gold-diggings, an' had been lucky, dear
boy, and he wanted to share his luck with me, an would never, never,
forget me; but he didn't need to send me money to prove that. He has
continued to send me a little every year since then;--ah! it's many,
many years now,--ay, ay, many years."
She sighed, and looked wistfully at the spark of fire in the grate that
was making ineffectual attempts to boil the little tea-kettle with the
defiant spout; "but why," she continued, looking up suddenly, "why do
you ask about him?"
"Because I knew him," replied Captain Wopper, searching for something
which appeared to be lost in the depths of one of his capacious pockets.
"Willum Stout was a chum of mine. We worked together at the Californy
gold-mines for many a year as partners, and, when at last we'd made what
we thought enough, we gave it up an' came down to San Francisco
together, an' set up a hotel, under the name of the `Jolly Tars,' by
Stout and Company. I was the Company, ma'am; an', for the matter o'
that I may say I was the Stout too, for both of us answered to the Stout
or the Company, accordin' as we was addressed, d'ee see? When Company
thought he'd made enough money to entitle him to a holiday, he came
home, as you see; but before leavin', Willum said to him, `Company, my
lad, w'en you get home, you'll go and see that old 'oom of the name of
Roby, whom I've often told you about. She lives in Lunun, somewheres
down by the river in a place called Grubb's Court. She was very good to
me, that old 'oom was, when she was young, as I've told you before. You
go an' give her my blessin'--Willum's blessin'--and this here bag and
that there letter.' `Yes,' says I, `Willum, I'll do it, my boy, as soon
as ever I set futt on British soil.' I did set futt on British soil
this morning, and there's the letter; also the bag; so, you see, old
lady, I've kep' my promise."
Captain Wopper concluded by placing a small but heavy canvas bag, and a
much-soiled letter, in Mrs Roby's lap.
To say that the little old woman seized the letter with eager delight,
would convey but a faint idea of her feelings as she opened it with
trembling hands, and read it with her bright black eyes.
She read it half aloud, mingled with commentary, as she proceeded, and
once or twice came to a pause over an illegible word, on which occasions
her visitor helped her to the word without looking at the letter. This
circumstance struck her at last as somewhat singular, for she looked up
suddenly, and said, "You appear, sir, to be familiar with the contents
of my letter."
"That's true, ma'am," replied Captain Wopper, who had been regarding the
old woman with a benignant smile; "Willum read it to me before I left,
a-purpose to enable me to translate the ill-made pot-hooks and hangers,
because, d'ee see, we were more used to handlin' the pick and shovel out
there than the pen, an' Willum used to say he never was much of a dab at
a letter. He never wrote you very long ones, ma'am, I believe?"
Mrs Roby looked at the fire pensively, and said, in a low voice, as if
to herself rather than her visitor, "No, they were not long--never very
long--but always kind and sweet to me--very sweet--ay, ay, it's a long,
long time now, a long time, since he came to me here and asked for a
night's lodging."
"Did you give it him, ma'am?" asked the captain. "Give it him!"
exclaimed Mrs Roby, with sudden energy, "of course I did. The poor boy
was nigh starving. How could I refuse him? It is true I had not much
to give, for the family I was with as nuss had failed and left me in
great distress, through my savings bein' in their hands; and that's what
brought me to this little room long, long ago--ay, ay. But no blame to
the family, sir, no blame at all. They couldn't help failin', an' the
young ones, when they grew up, did not forget their old nuss, though
they ain't rich, far from it; and it's what they give me that enables me
to pay my rent and stay on here--God bless 'em."
She looked affectionately at the daguerreotypes which hung, in the midst
of the sheen and glory of pot-lids, beads, and looking-glasses, above
the chimney-piece.
"You gave him, meanin' Willum, nothing else, I suppose?" asked the
captain, with a knowing look; "such, for instance, as a noo suit of
clothes, because of his bein' so uncommon ragged that he looked as if he
had bin captured in a clumsy sort of net that it would not have been
difficult to break through and escape from naked; also a few shillin's,
bein' your last, to pay his way down to Gravesend, where the ship was
lyin', that you had, through interest with the owners, got him a berth
aboard?"
"Ah!" returned Mrs Roby, shaking her head and smiling gently, "I see
that William has told you all about it."
"He has, ma'am," replied Captain Wopper, with a decisive nod. "You see,
out in the gold-fields of Californy, we had long nights together in our
tent, with nothin' to do but smoke our pipes, eat our grub, and spin
yarns, for we had no books nor papers, nothin' to read except a noo
Testament, and we wouldn't have had even that, ma'am, but for yourself.
It was the Testament you gave to Willum at partin', an' very fond of it
he was, bein' your gift. You see, at the time we went to Californy,
there warn't many of us as cared for the Word of God. Most of us was
idolaters that had run away from home, our chief gods--for we had many
of 'em--bein' named Adventure, Excitement and Gold; though there was
some noble exceptions, too. But, as I was saying, we had so much time
on our hands that we recalled all our past adventures together over and
over again, and, you may be sure, ma'am, that your name and kindness was
not forgotten. There was another name," continued Captain Wopper,
drawing his chair nearer the fire, crossing his legs and stroking his
beard as he looked up at the dingy ceiling, "that Willum often thought
about and spoke of. It was the name of a gentleman, a clerk in the
Customs, I believe, who saved his life one day when he fell into the
river just below the bridge."
"Mr Lawrence," said the old woman, promptly.
"Ah! Mr Lawrence; yes, that's the name," continued the Captain.
"Willum was very grateful to him, and bid me try to find him out and
tell him so. Is he alive?"
"Dead," said Mrs Roby, shaking her head sadly.
The seaman appeared much concerned on hearing this. For some time he
did not speak, and then said that he had been greatly interested in that
gentleman through Willum's account of him.
"Had he left any children?"
"Yes," Mrs Roby told him; "one son, who had been educated as a doctor,
and had become a sort of a city missionary, and was as pleasant a young
gentleman as she ever knew."
"So, then, you know him?" said the Captain.
"Know him! I should think so. Why, this is the district where he
visits, and a kind friend he is to the poor, though he _is_ bashful a
bit, an' seems to shrink from pushin' himself where he's not wanted."
"Not the less a friend to the poor on that account," thought Captain
Wopper; but he said nothing, and Mrs Roby went on:--
"You see, his father before him did a great deal for the poor in a quiet
way here, as I have reason to know, this district lying near his office,
and handy, as it were. Long after the time when he saved Willum's life,
he married a sweet young creeter, who helped him in visitin' the poor,
but she caught fever among 'em and died, when their only son George was
about ten year old. George had been goin' about with his mother on her
visits, and seemed very fond of her and of the people, dear child; and
after she died, he used to continue coming with his father. Then he
went to school and college and became a young doctor, and only last year
he came back to us, so changed for the better that none of us would have
known him but for his kindly voice and fine manly-looking manner. His
shyness, too, has stuck to him a little, but it does not seem to hinder
him now as it once did. Ah!" continued Mrs Roby, in a sympathetic
tone, "it's a great misfortune to be shy."
She looked pensively at the little fire and shook her tall cap at it, as
if it or the defiant tea-kettle were answerable for something in
reference to shyness.
"Yes, it's a great misfortune to be shy," she repeated. "Were you ever
troubled with that complaint, Captain Wopper?"
The Captain's moustache curled at the corners as he stroked his beard,
and said that really, on consideration, he was free to confess that he
never had been convicted of that sin.
Mrs Roby bestowed on him a look of admiration, and continued, "Well, as
I have said--"
She was interrupted at this point by the entrance of an active little
girl, with the dirtiest face and sweetest expression imaginable, with
garments excessively ragged, blue eyes that sparkled as they looked at
you, a mouth that seemed made for kissing, if only it had been clean,
and golden hair that would have fallen in clustering curls on her neck,
if it had not been allowed to twist itself into something like a yellow
door-mat which rendered a bonnet unnecessary.
Bestowing a glance of surprise on the seaman, but without uttering a
word, she went smartly to a corner and drew into the middle of the room
a round table with one leg and three feet, whose accommodating top
having been previously flat against the wall, fell down horizontal and
fixed itself with a snap. On this the earnest little woman, quickly and
neatly, spread a fairish linen cloth, and proceeded to arrange thereon a
small tea-pot and cup and saucer, with other materials, for an early
tea.
"Two cups, Netta, my dear," said Mrs Roby.
"Yes, grannie," replied Netta, in a soft quick, little voice.
"Your grandchild?" asked the Captain.
"No; a neighbour's child, who is very kind to me. She calls me grannie,
because I like it. But, as I was saying," continued Mrs Roby, "young
Dr Lawrence came back last year and began to visit us in the old way,
intending to continue, he said, until he got a situation of some sort in
the colonies, I believe; but I do hope he'll not be obliged to leave us,
for he has bin a great blessin' to this neighbourhood, only he gets
little pay for his work, I fear, and appears to have little of his own
to live on, poor young man.--Now, Captain Wopper, you'll stop and have a
cup of tea with me. I take it early, you see,--in truth, I make a sort
of dinner of it,--and we can have a talk about William over it. I'm
proud to have a friend of his at my table, sir, I do assure you, though
it _is_ a poor one."
Captain Wopper accepted the invitation heartily, and thought, though he
said nothing, that it was indeed a poor table, seeing that the only food
on it besides the very weak tea in the wonderfully small pot, consisted
of one small loaf of bread.
"Netta," exclaimed Mrs Roby, with a look of surprise, "there's no
butter! Go, fetch it, dear."
Mrs Roby was, or thought herself, a remarkably deep character. She
spoke to Netta openly, but, in secret, bestowed a meaning glance on her,
and slipped a small coin into her hand. The dirty, sweet-faced damsel
replied by a remarkably knowing wink--all of which by-play, with the
reason for it, was as clear to Captain Wopper as if it had been
elaborately explained to him. But the Captain was a discreet man. He
became deeply absorbed in daguerreotypes and sauce-pan lids above the
fireplace, to the exclusion of all else.
"You've forgotten the bag, ma'am," said the Captain, drawing his chair
nearer the table.
"So I have; dear me, what is it?" cried Mrs Roby, taking it up. "It's
heavy."
"Gold!" said the Captain.
"Gold?" exclaimed the old nurse.
"Ay, nuggets," said the seaman, opening it and emptying its contents on
the table.
As the old nurse gazed on the yellow heap her black eyes glittered with
pleasure, as though they had derived additional lustre from the precious
metal, and she drew them towards her with a trembling, almost greedy,
motion, at sight of which Captain Wopper's countenance became troubled.
"And did Willie send this to me, dear boy?"
"He did, ma'am, hoping that it would be of use in the way of making your
home more comfortable, and enabling you to keep a better table."
He glanced uneasily round the poor room and at the small loaf as he
spoke, and the old woman observed the glance.
"It is very kind of him, very kind," continued Mrs Roby. "What may it
be worth, now?"
"Forty pounds, more or less," answered the Captain.
Again the old woman's eyes sparkled greedily, and again the seaman's
countenance fell.
"Surely, ma'am," said the Captain, gravely, "things must be uncommon
dear in London, for you tell me that Willum has sent you a deal of money
in time past, but you don't seem to be much the better for it."
"Captain Wopper," said Mrs Roby, putting her hand lightly on the
Captain's arm as it lay on the table, and looking earnestly into his
face, "if you had not been an old and valued friend of my dear Willie--
which I learn that you are from his letter--I would have said your
remark was a rude one; but, being what you are, I don't mind telling you
that I save up every penny I can scrape together for little Netta White,
the girl that has just gone out to fetch the butter. Although she's not
well cared for,--owing to her mother, who's a washerwoman, bein'
overburdened with work and a drunken husband,--she's one of the dearest
creeters I ever did see. Bless you, sir, you'd be amazed if you knew
all the kind and thoughtful things that untrained and uncared for child
does, and never thinks she's doing anything more than other people.
It's all along of her mother's spirit, which is as good as gold. Some
months ago Little Netta happened to be up here when I was at tea, and,
seeing the difficulty I had to move about with my old rheumatic limbs,
she said she'd come and set out my tea and breakfast for me; and she's
done it, sir, from that time to this, expecting nothing fur it, and
thinking I'm too poor to give her anything. But she's mistaken,"
continued Mrs Roby, with a triumphant twinkle in her black eyes, "she
doesn't know that I've made a confidant of her brother Gillie, and give
him a sixpence now and then to give to his mother without telling where
he got it, and she doesn't know that I'm saving up to be able to leave
something to her when I'm called home--it can't be long, now; it can't
be long."
"Old 'ooman," cried Captain Wopper, whose face had brightened
wonderfully during this explanation, "give us your flip--your hand. I
honour your heart, ma'am, and I've no respect whatever for your brain!"
"I'm not sure that that's a compliment," said Mrs Roby, with a smile.
Captain Wopper assured her with much solemnity that it might or might
not be a compliment, but it was a fact. "Why, look here," said he, "you
go and starve yourself, and deny yourself all sorts of little comforts--
what then? Why, you'll die long before your time, which is very like
taking the law into your own hands, ma'am, and then you won't leave to
Netta nearly as much as you might if you had taken care of yourself and
lived longer, and saved up after a reasonable fashion. It's sheer
madness. Why, ma'am, you're starving _now_, but I'll put a stop to
that. Don't you mind, now, whether I'm rude or not. You can't expect
anything else from an old gold-digger, who has lived for years where
there were no women except such as appeared to be made of mahogany, with
nothing to cover 'em but a coating of dirt and a blue skirt. Besides,
Willum told me at parting to look after you and see that you wanted for
nothing, which I promised faithfully to do. You've some regard for
Willum's wishes, ma'am?--you wouldn't have me break my promises to
Willum, would you?"
The Captain said this with immense rapidity and vigour, and finished it
with such a blow of his heavy fist on the little table that the cups and
plates danced, and the lid of the little tea-pot leaped up as if its
heart were about to come out of its mouth. Mrs Roby was so taken by
surprise that she could not speak for a few seconds, and before she had
recovered sufficiently to do so, Little Netta came in with the butter.
"Now, ma'am," resumed the Captain, when the girl had retired, "here's
where it is. With your leave I'll reveal my plans to you, and ask your
advice. When I was about to leave Californy, Willum told me first of
all to go and find _you_ out, and give you that letter and bag of
nuggets, which I've done. `Then,' says he, `Wopper, you go and find out
my brother Jim's widow, and give 'em my love an' dooty, and this letter,
and this bag of nuggets,'--said letter and bag, ma'am, bein' now in my
chest aboard ship. `So,' says I, `Willum, I will--trust me.' `I do,'
says he; `and, Wopper,' says he, `keep your weather eye open, my boy,
w'en you go to see 'em, because I've my suspicions, from what my poor
brother said on his deathbed, when he was wandering in his mind, that
his widow is extravagant. I don't know,' Willum goes on to say, `what
the son may be, but there's that cousin, Emma Gray, that lives in the
house with 'em, _she's_ all right. _She's_ corresponded with me, off
an' on, since ever she could write, and my brother bein' something lazy,
poor fellar, through havin' too much to do I fancy, got to throw all the
letter-writin' on her shoulders. You take special note of _her_,
Wopper, and if it should seem to you that they don't treat her well, you
let me know.' `Willum,' says I, `I will--trust me.' `Well, then,' says
Willum, `there's one other individooal I want you to ferret out, that's
the gentleman--he must be an old gentleman now--that saved my life when
I was a lad, Mr Lawrence by name. You try to find _him_ out and if you
can do him a good turn, do it.' `Willum,' says I, `I'll do it--trust
me.' `I do,' says he, `and when may I expect you back in Californy,
Wopper?' `Willum,' says I, `that depends.' `True,' says he, `it does.
Give us you're flipper, old boy, we may never meet again in these
terrestrial diggings. Good luck to you. Don't forget my last will an'
testimony as now expressed.' `Willum,' says I, `I won't.' So, ma'am, I
left Californy with a sacred trust, so to speak, crossed the sea, and
here I am."
At this point Captain Wopper, having warmed in his subject, took in at
one bite as much of the small loaf as would have been rather a heavy
dinner for Mrs Roby, and emptied at one gulp a full cup of her tea,
after which he stroked his beard, smiled benignantly at his hostess,
became suddenly earnest again, and went on--chewing as he spoke.
"Now, ma'am, I've three questions to ask: in the first place, as it's
not possible now to do a good turn to old Mr Lawrence, I must do it to
his son. Can you tell me where he lives?"
Mrs Roby told him that it was in a street not far from where they sat,
in a rather poor lodging.
"Secondly, ma'am, can you tell me where Willum's sister-in-law lives,--
Mrs Stout, _alias_ Stoutley?"
"No, Captain Wopper, but I daresay Mr Lawrence can. He knows 'most
everythink, and has a London Directory."
"Good. Now, in the third place, where am I to find a lodging?"
Mrs Roby replied that there were plenty to be found in London of all
kinds.
"You haven't a spare room here, have you?" said the Captain, looking
round.
Mrs Roby shook her head and said that she had not; and, besides, that
if she had, it would be impossible for her to keep a lodger, as she had
no servant, and could not attend on him herself.
"Mrs Roby," said the Captain, "a gold-digging seaman don't want no
servant, nor no attendance. What's up aloft?"
By pointing to a small trap-door in the ceiling, he rendered the
question intelligible.
"It's a garret, I believe," replied Mrs Roby, smiling; "but having no
ladder, I've never been up."
"You've no objection to my taking a look, have you?" asked the Captain.
"None in the world," replied the old woman. Without more ado the seaman
rose, mounted on a chair, pushed open the trap-door, thrust his head and
shoulders through, and looked round. Apparently the inspection was not
deemed sufficiently close, for, to the old woman's alarm and
inexpressible surprise, he seized the edges of the hole with his strong
hands, raised himself up, and finally disappeared in the regions above!
The alarm of the old woman was somewhat increased by the sound of her
visitor's heavy tread on the boards overhead as he stumbled about.
Presently his head appeared looking down through the trap. In any
aspect, Captain Wopper's shaggy head was an impressive one; but viewed
in an upside-down position, with the blood running into it, it was
peculiarly striking.
"I say, old lady," he shouted, as if his position recalled the action
and induced the tones of a boatswain, "it'll do. A capital berth, with
two portholes and a bunk."
The Captain's head disappeared, and immediately his legs took its place,
suggesting the outrageous idea that he had thrown a somersault. Next
moment his huge body slid down, and he stood on the floor much flushed
and covered with dust.
"Now, old girl, is it to be?" he said, sitting down at the table. "Will
you take me as a lodger, for better and for worse? I'll fit up the
berth on the main-deck, and be my own servant as well as your's. Say
the word."
"I can refuse nothing to Willie's friend," said old Mrs Roby, "but
really I--"
"Done, it's a bargain," interrupted the Captain, rising abruptly. "Now,
I'll go visit young Mr Lawrence and Mrs Stoutley, and to-morrow I'll
bring my kit, take possession of my berth, and you and I shall sail in
company, I hope, and be messmates for some time to come."