We had just landed the gaily-dressed individual who had announced
himself the nephew of old Tom Swatridge. Thinking that he might
possibly be the person he said he was, and not knowing what tricks he
might play, I was intending to row home, when a gentleman, with two
young ladies and a boy, who I knew by their dress to be Quakers, came
down, wishing to take a row round the harbour, and afterwards to visit
the Victualling Yard.
After we had pulled off some way, I asked if they would like to go
aboard the _Victory_.
"No, thank thee, young friend, we take no pleasure in visiting scenes,
afloat or on shore, where the blood of our fellow-creatures has been
shed," answered the gentleman.
As he spoke I thought by his look and the tone of his voice that he must
be Mr Silas Gray, who had come to our house when the poor girl mother
took in was dying, but I did not like to ask him. The young people
called him father. At last he began to ask Jim and me questions, and
how, young as we were, we came to have a boat by ourselves.
"I suppose thy father is ill on shore?" he said.
Then I told him how he was lost at Spithead, and mother had died, and
old Tom had been blown up, and I had taken his wherry, seeing there was
no one else to own her; and how Mary and Nancy and I lived on in his
house.
"And art thou and this other lad brothers?" he inquired.
"No, sir; but Jim Pulley and I feel very much as if we were," I
answered. "My name is Peter Trawl."
"And was thy mother a bumboat-woman, a true, honest soul, one of the
excellent of the earth?" he asked.
"Ay, ay, sir! That was my mother," I said, my heart beating with
pleasure to hear her so spoken of.
Then he told me that he was Mr Silas Gray, and asked if I remembered
the visits he used to pay to our house. Of course I did. The young
ladies and his son joined in the conversation, and very pleasant it was
to hear them talk.
We were out the whole afternoon, and it was quite late when we got back
to Portsea. Mr Gray said that he was going away the next morning with
his family to London, but that when he returned he would pay Mary a
visit, and hoped before the summer was over to take some more trips in
my wherry. He paid us liberally, and he and the young people gave us
kind smiles and nods as they stepped on shore.
While we were out I had not thought much about the fare we had brought
across from Gosport in the morning, but now, recollecting what he had
said, I hurried home, anxious to hear if he had found out the house. I
had not to ask, for directly I appeared Nancy told me that while Mary
was at school an impudent fellow had walked in and asked if old Tom
Swatridge had once lived there, and when she said "Yes," had taken a
note of everything, and then sat down and lighted his pipe, and told her
to run out and bring him a jug of ale.
"`A likely thing, indeed!' I answered him," said Nancy; "`what! When I
come back to find whatever is worth taking carried off, or maybe the
door locked and I unable to get in!' The fellow laughed when I said
this--a nasty sort of a laugh it was--and said, `Ay! Just so.' I
didn't know exactly what he meant, but presently he sang out, `What!
Are you not gone yet, gal?' `No, and I shan't,' I answered; `and when
Peter and Jim come in you'll pretty quickly find who has to go.' On
this he thundered out, trying to frighten me, `Do you know that I am old
Tom Swatridge's nephew and heir-at-law,' [I think that's what he called
himself], `and that this house and everything in it is mine, and the
wherry, and any money the old chap left behind him? I'll soon prove
that you and your brother are swindlers, and you'll be sent off to
prison, let me tell you.' He took me for Mary, do you see, Peter; and I
was not going to undeceive him? I felt somewhat nonplussed when he said
this, but without answering I walked to the window, working with my
needle as I was doing when he came in, and looked out as if I was
expecting you and Jim to be coming. I would give him no food, nor even
a drink of water; so at last he grew tired, and, saying I should see him
again soon, swinging his cane and whistling, he walked away."
"What do you think, Peter? Can he really be old Tom's nephew?" asked
Mary, when Nancy ceased speaking.
"One thing is certain, that if he proves himself to be so we shall be
bound to turn out of this house, and to give up the wherry," I answered.
"Oh, Peter! What shall we do, then?" exclaimed Mary.
"The best we can, my sister," I said. "Perhaps the man may not be able
to prove that he is what he calls himself. I have heard of impostors
playing all sorts of tricks. We'll hope for the best. And now, Nancy,
let us have some supper."
Though I tried to keep up the spirits of Mary and Nancy, I felt very
anxious, and could scarcely sleep for thinking on the subject. Whatever
might happen for myself I did not care, but I was greatly troubled about
what Mary and Nancy would do. I naturally thought of Commander Rogers,
from whom all this time I had heard nothing, though he had promised to
come and see after Mary and me. Mr Gray had said that he was going
away again, so that I could not obtain advice from him. "I have God to
trust to, that's a comfort," I thought, and I soon dropped off to sleep.
The next morning I remained at home to a later hour than usual. Just as
I was going out a man came to the door, who said he was sent by Lawyer
Gull, and put a paper into my hand, which he told me was a something I
could not exactly make out, to quit the house within twenty-four hours.
"His client, the owner of the property, wishes not to act harshly, so
refrains from taking stronger measures at present," said the clerk, who,
having performed his task, went away. I stopped a few minutes to talk
with Mary and Nancy. Mary said quietly that if we must go we must, and
that we had better look out for cheap lodgings at once. Nancy was very
indignant, and declared that we had no business to turn out for such a
scamp as that. Old Tom had never spoken of having a nephew; she did not
believe the fellow was his nephew, and certainly, if he was, Tom would
not have left his property to him. She advised me, however, to go out
and try to get advice from some one who knew more about the law than she
did. I accordingly set off for the Hard, where I was sure to find
several friends among the watermen. I had not got far when I met Jim
Pulley, looking very disconsolate.
"What is the matter, Jim," I asked.
"We've lost the wherry!" he exclaimed, nearly blubbering. "Two big
fellows came down, and, asking what boat she was, told me to step
ashore: and when I said I wouldn't for them, or for any one but you,
they took me, crop and heels, and trundled me out of her."
"That is only what I feared," I said. "I was coming down to find some
one to advise us what to do."
"Then you couldn't ask any better man than Bob Fox, he's been in prison
half a score of times for smuggling and such like, so he must know a
mighty deal about law," he answered.
We soon found Bob Fox, who was considered an oracle on the Hard, and a
number of men gathered round while he expressed his opinion.
"Why, you see, mates, it's just this," he said, extending one of his
hands to enforce his remarks; "you must either give in or go to prison
when they brings anything agen you, and that, maybe, is the cheapest in
the end; or, as there's always a lawyer on t'other side, you must set
another lawyer on to fight him, and that's what I'd advise to be done in
this here case. Now I knows a chap, one Lawyer Chalk, who's as sharp as
a needle, and if any man can help young Peter and his sister to keep
what is their own he'll do it. I'm ready to come down with some shiners
to pay him, for, you see, these lawyer folk don't argify for nothing,
and I'm sure some on you who loves justice will help Jack and Polly
Trawl's children; so round goes the hat."
Suiting the action to the word, Bob, taking off his tarpaulin, threw a
handful of silver into it, and his example being followed by a number of
other men, he grasped me by the hand, and set off forthwith to consult
Lawyer Chalk.
We quickly reached his office. Mr Chalk, a quiet-looking little man,
with easy familiar manners, which won the confidence of his illiterate
constituents, knowing Bob Fox well, received us graciously. His eyes
glittered as he heard the money chink in Bob's pocket.
"It's all as clear as a pikestaff," he observed, when he heard what I
had got to say. "They must prove first that this fellow who has turned
up is Tom Swatridge's nephew; then that he is his heir-at-law, and
finally that the house and boat belonged to the deceased. Now
possession is nine-tenths of the law; you've got them, and you must hold
them till the law turns you out."
"I couldn't, sir, if another has a better right to them than I have," I
answered. "I lived on in the house and used the wherry because I was
sure that old Tom would have wished me to do so, but then I didn't know
that he had any relation to claim them."
"And you don't know that he has any relation now," said Mr Chalk; "that
has to be proved, my lad. The law requires proof; that's the beauty of
the law. The man may swear till he's black in the face that he is the
deceased's nephew, but if he has no proof he'll not gain his cause."
Bob Fox was highly delighted with our visit to the lawyer.
"I told you so, lad; I told you so!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands;
"t'other chap will find he has met his match. Bless you! Old Chalk's
as keen as a razor."
As I could not use the wherry, I went home feeling in much better
spirits than before about our prospects. I was able even to cheer up
Mary and Nancy. I told them that, by Lawyer Chalk's advice, we were not
to quit the house, and that he would manage everything. No one appeared
during the day. The next morning we had breakfast as usual, and as the
time went by I was beginning to hope that we should be unmolested, when
two rough-looking men came to the door, and, though Nancy sprang up to
bar them out, in they walked. One of them then thrust a paper out to
her, but she drew back her hand as if it had been a hot iron. The man
again attempted to make her take it. "One of you must have it," he
growled out.
"No, no! I couldn't make head or tail of it if I did," answered Nancy,
still drawing back.
"Let me have it," I said, wishing to know what the men really came for.
"The sum total is, that you and the rest of you are to move away from
this, and if you don't go sharp we're to turn you out!" exclaimed the
bailiff, losing patience at the time I took to read the document. "It's
an order of ejectment, you'll understand."
"Don't you mind what it is, Peter!" exclaimed Nancy; "Mr Chalk said we
was to stay here, and stay we will for all the scraps of paper in the
world!" And Nancy, seating herself in a chair, folded her arms, and
cast defiant looks at the officers of the law.
They were, however, up to the emergency. Before either she or I were
aware of what they were about to do, they had secured her arms to the
back of the chair, and then, lifting it and her up, carried her out of
the house and deposited her in the street, in spite of the incautious
attempt I made to effect a rescue. The moment I got outside the house
one of the bailiffs, turning round, seized me in a vice-like grasp, and
the other then entering, led out Mary, who saw that resistance was
hopeless. He next walked back, took the key from the door, and, having
locked it, released Nancy and re-entered the house with the chair.
Before Nancy could follow him he had shut himself in, while his
companion, letting me go with a shove which sent me staggering across
the street, walked off, I concluded to tell the lawyer who sent him and
his mate that they had got possession of the house.
Nancy was standing, with her fists clenched, too much astonished at the
way she had been treated to speak. Mary was in tears, trembling all
over.
"Oh, Peter, what are we to do?" she asked.
"I'll go to Lawyer Chalk and hear what he says," I answered. "If the
house and boat ought to be ours, he'll get them back; if not, I can't
say just now what we must do. Meantime do you and Nancy go to Widow
Simmons's, and wait there. She was always a friend of mother's, and
will be glad to help you."
Mary agreed, but Nancy, who at length found her tongue, declared that
she wasn't going to lose sight of the house, and that she would stay
where she was and watch and tell the folks who passed how we had been
treated. As nothing I could say would induce her to move, I accompanied
Mary to the widow's, where I left her, and hastened on to Mr Chalk's.
The lawyer made a long face when I told him how we had been treated.
"I told you that `possession is nine-tenths of the law,' my lad, and now
they are in and you are out," he answered. "It's a bad job--but we'll
see what can be done. We must obtain at all events your clothes, and
any other private property you may possess. Now go, my lad, and call
upon me in a week or two; I shall see Bob Fox in the meantime."
Soon after leaving the lawyer's I met Jim Pulley. Having seen Nancy, he
was fuming with indignation at our having been turned out of our home,
and proposed trying to break into the house to regain possession, but I
had sense enough to know that we must abide by the law, whichever way
that decided I found Nancy still keeping watch before the door, and
vehemently appealing to all who would stop to listen to her. It was
with some difficulty that I at length persuaded her to go with me to
Mrs Simmons's. The kind widow was willing to give us shelter, and as
Mary had fortunately my savings in her pocket, we had sufficient to pay
for our food for some days. The next morning Mary went as usual to
school; Nancy left the house, saying that she was going to look for
work, and I set out, hoping to find employment in a wherry with one of
the men who knew me.