THE OLD SAILOR SETS MATTERS STRAIGHT.
Having made over the whole of his worldly property to Joshua and Ellen
"for better or worse," it was reasonable that Praiseworthy Meddler
should have considerable weight in the family council of the Marvels.
The arrangement whereby Joshua left his home a day before his ship was
to sail was entirely of the Old Sailor's making; he and he alone was
responsible for it. Naturally enough, when he had at first proposed
it, he had met with opposition--especially from Mrs. Marvel, who
wished Joshua to remain with them until the last moment. But, after a
private conversation with the Old Sailor, she had yielded to his wish,
and had even used arguments to induce Joshua's readier compliance.
That being obtained, the Old Sailor informed them that he had a
lady-friend at Gravesend, name Mrs. Eliza Friswell, who was a married
woman herself with a family, and who kept a respectable boarding-house,
with whom he had arranged that Ellen should stay until the anchor of the
"Merry Andrew" was weighed; substantiating his statement by a letter
from Mrs. Eliza Friswell to Mrs. Marvel, in which Mrs. Eliza--as the
Old Sailor called her--undertook to look after Ellen as "one of her
own." On the morning of Joshua's departure from Stepney, the Old
Sailor, dressed in his best, and decorated with a bunch of flowers in
honor of Ellen, had called for his pretty lass and had taken her away,
leaving a message that if Joshua did not arrive at Gravesend exactly
at the appointed time, Ellen had consented to run away with him--to
wit, Praiseworthy Meddler--and get married. Very proud was the Old
Sailor of his charge, and very tender and confidential was the nature
of his communications to her as they made their way to Gravesend. What
it was that made her blush and laugh and cry in turns--what it was
that made her serious one moment and glad the next--was known only to
themselves. Certainly no one was taken into their confidence until
they arrived at Mrs. Eliza's, when, with a fatherly kiss, he delivered
Ellen into the charge of that estimable matron. Mrs. Eliza's husband
was a boatman, rough and strong as a boatman should be: with a great
red face and great red hands, and with a voice that rumbled from his
great deep chest with such thunderous power as to render such a thing
as a whisper physically impossible. He was the owner of a fleet of
four boats, which had been bought and paid for in shrimps and
watercresses, or, at all events, with the profits made by Mrs. Eliza
out of those delicacies, which she purveyed to the easily-satisfied
amorous British public, with stale bread-and-butter and an imitation
of tea, at nine pence per head.
Praiseworthy Meddler was fraternizing with Mrs. Eliza's husband when
Joshua made his appearance. Mrs. Eliza's husband immediately sheered
off, and the Old Sailor took Joshua in tow. In response to the Old
Sailor's remark that he was late, Joshua, who felt very despondent,
said that parting from those at home took a longer time than he had
expected.
"Ay, my lad," said the Old Sailor gravely, "'tis a hard word, good-by,
when said to those we love. A long time with Dan, I dare say now?"
"Yes, sir; but it didn't seem long. Time flies faster at some times
than others."
"Ay; flies fastest when we most want it to hold out. Mother and father
all right?"
"As right as may be, sir. Crying more now, I know by my own feelings,
than when I was with them. Kept up for my sake, sir, to give me
courage." And Joshua turned aside.
"No need to be ashamed of your tears, my lad. Gentle thoughts and a
gentle heart go together. Some people say 'tis unmanly to cry, but I
wouldn't give much for the man who never cried, or who wasn't
sometimes so near it as to feel a gulping in the throat. 'Tis as much
crying, that is, as if the tears were rolling down his face. I've felt
like it myself, I'm glad to say."
"You are very kind to me, sir."
"You deserve it, Josh, you deserve it, though I've a doubt that you're
a bit blind to some things."
"To what things, sir?"
"Gently my lad, gently. Plenty of time to talk."
The gravity of the Old Sailor was contagious, and Joshua felt that the
good old fellow was about to say something which he deemed of
importance.
"Where is Ellen, sir?"
"In the house with Mrs. Eliza. She is happy and comfortable, my lad;
and when you and me have had our bit of talk, we will go in to her.
She knows that we're together, and that we've got something to speak
about. As you turned the street, she put her pretty head out of window
there--you didn't know the house or you'd have seen her do it, like a
true sailor as you are--and when she saw us together, she put her
pretty head in again, satisfied. And you left everybody at home all
right, eh? Grieving naturally to be sure, but otherways all right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Let us walk as we talk," said the Old Sailor, hooking his arm in
Joshua's, and walking in the direction of the river. "Or we shall talk
better in a boat, perhaps; Mrs. Eliza's husband shall paddle us about
the while."
"But I should like to see Ellen just for one minute first.
"To begin your kissing, eh, my lad?" said the Old Sailor, with a
roguish, laugh. "No, no; you'll have plenty of time for that. I'm in
command now, and I'll have no mutineering, or I'll put you in irons.
You'll not like them as well as Ellen's pretty arms." Notwithstanding
the light nature of the Old Sailor's word's, Joshua detected a
serious mood beneath them, and with a good grace he walked to the
landing-place and stepped into the boat which Mrs. Eliza's husband
held ready.
"So you were a long time with Dan, my lad," remarked the Old Sailor,
when they were launched. "What did you talk about mostly?"
"The old things, sir,--ourselves mostly?"
"You have no secrets from Dan, my lad?"
"No, sir, none."
"And he has none from you?"
"None, sir."
"And yet I'll be bound," said the Old Sailor, looking steadily at
Joshua, and compelling Joshua to return his gaze, "that there was
something which you might have spoken of had you not been restrained
by a feeling, say, of kindness to Dan. What, now?"
"There was something, sir," replied Joshua, wondering what this
conversation, so singularly commenced, would lead to.
"Ah!" ejaculated the Old Sailor, rubbing his knees in a satisfied
manner; "let us hear what that something was."
"You speak so earnestly, sir," said Joshua, inwardly questioning
himself, "that I must be careful not to conceal any thing from
you--not that I have any reason nor that I wish to do so, but
something might escape me. I must first say, though that you must not
expect me to break any confidence--that supposing Dan had a secret,
and had imparted it to me, I should not be justified in telling that
secret to any one else."
"Fair and honest, my lad; what I expected from you."
"Well, then, I have been sorry to find that Mr. Kindred"--
"Minnie's father--yes," interrupted the Old Sailor, with a sharp look
at Joshua.
"Has been changed to all of us lately, and especially to me; and I
have been sorry to think that it is because of something which I have
done that he is so changed."
"You know of nothing, Josh?"
"Nothing--absolutely nothing; and that's what grieves me. If I did
know, I should be able to justify myself. Why, sir, this morning he
refused to see me when I went to wish him good-by, and refused to let
me see Minnie. I did not speak of this thing to Dan because of my love
for him."
"And because," said the Old Sailor, "supposing that Dan had a secret
and had imparted it to you, you thought that Dan would be easier in
his mind--in consequence of his secret--if he did not know of Mr.
Kindred's strange refusal to see you."
"Just so, sir."
"Could I guess this secret of Dan's?" questioned the Old Sailor.
"Could an old tar like me, who wouldn't be supposed to know much of
boys and girls and their whims and whams, venture to guess that this
secret of our dear friend Dan's was all about a woman?"
Joshua did not reply.
"And such a woman!" continued the Old Sailor. "With eyes as bright as
the stars, and with hair like a mermaid's. As cunning as a mermaid
too; not wickedly cunning--no, no; but 'tis in her to be so; and she
needs weaning from it, like a babe."
Very gentle was the Old Sailor's voice; and greatly did Joshua wonder,
not at its gentleness, for that was natural to the old man, but at the
wisdom of the words that came from his lips. All his roughness was
gone; all his pleasantry was gone; all his simplicity was laid aside
for the time; and the Old Sailor spoke as if all his life he had been
studying woman's nature until he was master of its complexities. But
such deep wisdom often comes from very simplicity.
"Lord love you, my lad!" he said, "how blind you have been! Here has
been a woman's heart laid bare to you, and you have not suspected it."
Joshua trembled with apprehension. "For Heaven's sake, sir," he
implored, "speak more plainly!"
"I intend to do so, Joshua; for this is the solemnest time of your
life. I have considered the matter deeply, and I can see but one right
thing to do; but I am running ahead too fast. Steady there, steady. As
I said a time ago, here has been a woman's heart laid bare to you, and
you have not suspected it. What woman, now? But 'tis not right to ask,
mayhap."
"Ask me any thing, sir; I will answer truly."
"What woman do you love?"
"Ellen."
"Ellen? And Ellen only?"
"And Ellen only. None other; nor ever shall, if it is given to man to
know his heart."
"Good! Answered like yourself; answered like the lad I used to see
looking out on the river that runs to the sea; like the lad my old
heart warmed to because there was honesty in his face; like the lad
who has grown to be a man, and who sits afore me now with truth in his
eyes."
"Thank you for that, sir."
"What woman does this lad, now grown to be a man, love? Ellen--the
pretty Ellen, the truest-hearted, gentlest-hearted, kindest-hearted,
dearest lass on all the high seas. What woman does Joshua's friend
Dan love? That's a question I ask myself. 'Tis easily answered.
Minnie--Minnie with the mermaid's hair, and with eyes bright as the
stars. Does Minnie love Dan? Yes; but not as Dan wants her to love
him. Why? Because there is some one in the way."
"Who, sir?" Joshua was constrained to ask, but dreading the answer.
"She loves Dan's friend Joshua better than she loves Dan. Let that
friend, who sits afore me now, search his heart and his mind, and let
him say what he thinks. He knows her nature; has been her friend since
she was a girl; and, cunning as a woman may be, no woman can be
cunning enough to hide her love always from the man she loves, though
she may hide it from all the rest of the world. It happens sometimes
in a man's life that he may be unconscious of a thing for years
perhaps, it being present to him all the time, until, sometimes in one
way, sometimes in another, a sudden light is thrown upon it, and he
sees in a flash what he has been blind to all his life before."
"You are right, sir," said Joshua sadly. "It has happened to me now. I
have been blind."
As he sat, sadly looking at the evening shadows reflected in the
river, every circumstance connected with his intimacy with Minnie came
to his mind with an interpretation different from that it had borne
before. Her pretty fancy of the shell, which he had thought of often
as a childish conceit bore a different meaning now. Tender looks and
simple acts, which had pleased him at the time, gathered strength, and
became more than tokens of mere friendship. Child as she was when he
first went to sea, he recognized now that she had more than the
strength of a child; that even then, indeed, she was almost a woman.
When he came back, a man, she had saved his life; and when he thanked
her for it--surely he could do no less!--she told him that she did not
want thanks, for the having saved his life would ever be her sweetest
remembrance. "Little Minnie, little Minnie," he had said, kissing her,
"thank you for your devotion." He remembered that she trembled, and
that something like a sob escaped her when he had kissed her. Had he
done wrong? Was he to blame? All he had done had been innocently done,
as from a brother to a sister. And her feelings were known to others
when they had been hidden from him. Minnie's secret was known to her
father and to Susan. That was the reason why Basil Kindred had
questioned him so strangely, and had told him the story of his life.
Words uttered by Basil, which had borne no direct signification when
they were spoken, came to him now with startling vividness. "Young men
are often thoughtless in their actions," Basil had said; "they do not
know the depth and earnestness of some womanly natures." The
revelation that had come to him served also to account for Susan's
singular conduct that very morning.
"So," he thought; "they believe I have been playing with Minnie's
feelings; and both of them have condemned me. And I at the same time
engaged to Ellen! It is too dreadful to think of. What can I do? Oh,
what can I do?"
The unspoken words rended him to the soul; he was enveloped in a
despairing darkness. But a greater terror than all fell upon him when
he thought of Dan. In such a momentous crisis as that through which
Joshua's mind was passing, nothing of the past is unremembered. Words
which otherwise are borne in mind only by their sense come back as if
they were just being, uttered. When Dan had imparted to Joshua the
secret of his love for Minnie, he had said, "A great hope, shadowed by
a great fear, has entered my soul; a hope which, fulfilled, would make
earth heaven for me. Is it too precious a thing to pray for? It seems
so to me. I tremble as I think of it. But if it is not to be, I hope I
shall soon die." And Joshua heard again that cry from Dan's soul,
almost word for word. The sacred nature of the love existing between
Dan and Joshua needs to be understood to realize the terrible fear
that smote Joshua at the present time. If Dan should ever come to
believe him false, he would not wish to live: for the salt would have
gone out of his life forever.
For full a quarter of an hour Joshua was wrapped in painful thought;
and the Old Sailor had not disturbed him. But now, as he raised his
tearful eyes to the Old Sailor's face, the Old Sailor laid his hand
gently upon Joshua's knee, and said,--
"Well, Joshua, and how do you make it out?"
"As bad as it well can be, sir. This is the hardest stroke I have ever
had. I do not think that even you can understand how hard it is for
me."
"Because of Dan?"
"Because of Dan, sir. I have no need to hide Dan's secret from you
now--you know it; but if Dan should be disappointed in his love for
Minnie, I don't know what effect it would have upon him. All this is
very terrible. I don't need to assure you, sir, that I have been
entirely blameless, and that I have never treated Minnie in any way
but that of an honored sister."
"You do not, my lad," said the Old Sailor, with an evident brightening
up in his manner; "I am satisfied of that. But what do we do when a
storm comes? Do we run and bury our heads in our hammocks, or do we
stand up like men to meet it and battle with it?--as we are going to
meet this storm, which has come upon us unaware, and from no fault of
our'n. Like men, Josh; we're going to meet it like men. I am looking
it straight in the face. No wonder it made you stagger when it come
upon you sudden. It set my old head a-thinking when I found it
out--though it only come upon me by degrees, and after a deal of
watching. Just you think a bit now, Josh, and tell me if you don't see
any way of getting the ship off the rocks."
"I can see no way, sir," said Joshua, after a little anxious
pondering; "all is dark around me."
The Old Sailor laughed a quiet little laugh.
"Lord, Lord how blind these youngsters are! Here's a sailor that's
lost his reckoning, and running the danger of seeing his ship break up
before his eyes; and all the while there's a smooth-water bay close
alongside him, and a friendly craft waiting to give him a hand."
"Where is that bay, sir?"
"Steady, my lad, steady. Let's see what we've got to do. Firstly, our
duty to every body, right round. Next, to make two persons, who ought
to know better, ashamed of themselves for misjudging of us. Next, to
make every thing so snug that our friend Dan sha'n't suffer from any
fault of our'n. Next, to teach a gentle lesson to a mermaid of a girl
who's got a notion in her head that's no business to be there, but who
otherways is as good as gold. It's a riddle, my lad, and I've got the
key to it in my pocket."
"May I see it, sir?"
"You may, and shall, Josh," said the Old Sailor, with a sly chuckle.
"It was to give you the key, that I brought you out here to talk."
And the Old Sailor took from his breast his blue-cotton
pocket-handkerchief, upon which was imprinted the twelve-hundred-ton
ship, with all its sails set to a favorable breeze. There was a knot
in the handkerchief; which the Old Sailor undid with his teeth,
keeping his eyes fixed upon Joshua's face all the while. The knot
being untied, the Old Sailor took from the handkerchief a very small
parcel in silver paper, and handed it to Joshua in perfect silence.
Joshua opened the silver paper, and found in it a wedding-ring.
He looked at the tiny symbol with a beating heart, and a glimmering of
the Old Sailor's meaning dawned upon his mind.
"That's the key, my lad," said the Old Sailor, with a triumphant
expression on his honest, weather-beaten face; "that's the key to it
all. You put that ring upon pretty Ellen's finger to-morrow morning
early, and what happens? Why, you spend your honeymoon here in
Gravesend with your little wife; and when the 'Merry Andrew' sets
sail,--which won't be to-morrow, Josh; I've found that out,--Ellen
goes back to Stepney with that pretty bit of gold on her finger. Says
she, 'I'm married--married to Joshua.' 'Married' says they, all but
one of 'em; 'married!' And surprised they are, all but one of 'em.
'Who made you do it?' says they, all but one of 'em. 'Mr. Meddler,'
says she; 'Mr. Meddler made me do it. He's a hard-hearted old shark,
and he made me do it. But I'm not sorry for it,' says she; 'I'm glad
of it. And I'd do it over again to-morrow; for I've got a true-hearted
man for a husband, and all I've got to do is to pray that he may come
back safe to me and to all of us.' With that they all fall a-kissing
one another, which is but right under the circumstances. What happens
then? Says Susan, 'I was mistaken; Joshua is as he always was.' Says
Mr. Kindred, 'Minnie is safe. God bless Joshua for doing what he has
done.' Says Minnie to herself, 'It's no use my loving a married man.
I've been a foolish girl, and what I've got to do is to love Joshua
like a brother, as he has always loved me--like brother and sister;
that's all we can ever be to one another.' Then she turns to Dan, and
loves that tender-hearted friend,--who ought to have been a man six
foot high, with his limbs as sound as our'n,--and loves him as he
ought to be loved. And I shouldn't wonder, my lad, that when you come
home from this trip, Dan will say to you, 'Here is my wife, Jo, my own
dear Minnie; and we're as happy as the day is long.' The consequence
of all of which is, that every thing turns out as it ought to turn
out, and as we all want it to turn out."
The Old Sailor drew a long breath after this peroration, and dabbed
his face in a manner expressive of a high state of exultation and
excitement. Joshua was no less moved. He toyed with the wedding-ring
as gently and affectionately as if it were already on Ellen's finger.
Truly, to him it was more than a piece of plain gold; it was a symbol
of love. If it had been a precious life, he could not have handled it
more tenderly. Tears came into his eyes as he looked at it, and his
heart beat more strongly with love for Ellen as he pressed the ring to
his lips. At which action the Old Sailor gave his knee a great slap;
and falling back, in the excitement of his triumph, upon Mrs. Eliza's
husband, nearly upset a boat for the first and only time in his life.
"And that is the reason, sir," said Joshua, "that you wished me to
spend my last day at Gravesend with Ellen?"
"That is the reason, my lad, and no other."
"But how did you find all this out?"
"The fact of it is, my lad," replied the most unsuspicious and
guileless old tar that ever crossed salt water, "I put this and that
together. I put this and that together," he repeated with an air of
amazing cunning. "It came first in a simple way. When you were ill, I
went one day to see Minnie's father; and when I went into his room, I
found that he was out. Minnie was there, though: but she didn't see
me. She was sitting on the ground by her father's bed, with a shell at
her ear, and was singing some words softly to herself; and I heard her
repeat your name, Joshua, over and over again. It might have been a
babe singing, her voice was so low and sweet. But I didn't like to
hear it, for all that; and from that time, my lad, I began to watch,
and to put this and that together. Lord love you if you hadn't been so
wrapped up with Ellen, you would have found it out yourself soon
enough. You see, if Minnie had been a little girl, that shell and her
singing wouldn't have mattered; but being a woman, it did."
"And Ellen, sir. Have you told her what you have told me?"
"Just as much as wouldn't wound her sensitive heart, the dear lass.
Not a word about Minnie. I've put it more as if it was your doing and
my wish, being an unreasonable old shark, you know, and because I had
a right to have my own unreasonable way. I told her I'd set my heart
on it, and so had you."
"And her answer?"
"That pretty little lass says, 'If Joshua, that I love dearer
than all the world'--them's her very words, 'dearer than all the
world'--'wishes me to marry him down here at Gravesend, it will be my
pride and my joy to do as he wishes, now and always.' Something else
she says too. But before I tell you what that something else was, let
me know what you think about it, Josh."
"What can I think, sir, after what you have told me, but that I
believe it is the best and only way to set all matters straight? It is
a task both of love and duty--love to Ellen, duty to Dan and Minnie.
Yet I have one regret. I have often pictured in my mind what a
proud day our wedding-day would be to mother,"--his voice faltered
here,--"and how her dear face would have brightened when our hands
were joined!"
"That's the very something else that Ellen says to me, Josh," said the
Old Sailor, beaming with satisfaction. "Says she, 'I should like to
have Josh's mother at the wedding.' Says I, 'My dear, Josh's mother
_will_ be at the wedding.'"
"No!" exclaimed Joshua with a sudden start of surprise.
"Yes," cried the Old Sailor dabbing his face gleefully. "Says I, 'My
dear Josh's mother _will_ be at the wedding. She will come down to
Gravesend to-morrow morning early, and will go back quietly in the
afternoon.' And when Ellen tells 'em at home all about it, mother will
be the only one among 'em who won't be surprised."
"Enough said, sir," said Joshua, his heart filled with wondering
happiness. "I don't know what I have done to deserve such friends as
I've got. Let us get back to Ellen."
With that, Mrs. Eliza's husband, who had behaved more like a machine
than a man during the long interview, pulled briskly to shore.
It was dusk when they walked along the street where Mrs. Eliza lived;
but Joshua saw Ellen standing at the door waiting for them. He
hastened to her eagerly, and with his arm around her waist, drew her
away from the little light that was left. She was trembling; but his
strong arm supported her.
"So you are to be my little wife to-morrow?" he said in a voice of
exceeding tenderness.
She clung closer to him, and hiding her face, although it was dark,
answered him in the softest of soft whispers, "Yes, if you are
satisfied that it shall be so."
"It will be for the best, darling," he whispered, embracing her.
How proud he was of her! and what a memorable night they passed with
the Old Sailor! The best room in the house had been brightened up for
them to have tea in; and after tea, Joshua and Ellen strolled by the
waterside for an hour, which seemed about five minutes long, talking
as lovers have talked since the Creation. Meanwhile, the Old Sailor
stood at the door, smoking his pipe with infinite satisfaction at the
thought of having set all matters straight. While he thus stood, a man
approached with the evident intention of making an inquiry of him; but
catching sight of the Old Sailor's face, the man uttered a hasty
exclamation and abruptly crossed the road, making a pretence of being
intoxicated. It was but a pretence, but it deceived the Old Sailor,
who set it down in his mind that the man was a sailor on the spree.
"Going to join the 'Merry Andrew' to-morrow, perhaps," he thought;
"and fuddling himself, as most of 'em do the first and last nights
ashore. A rare old swiller is Jack! Never knows when he has had
enough. Must always take another drop."
The man's thoughts were of a different kind. When he had turned the
corner of the street, he walked more leisurely, and drew such a breath
as one draws when he has escaped a danger. His first muttered words
were "He didn't see me;" his next, "What the devil brings him here?"
That his mind was disturbed by the sight of the Old Sailor was evident
from his manner; and it was evident also, by the wary looks he cast
about him, that he was bent already on no idle mission and needed
nothing fresh to occupy him. "A good job it was dark," he muttered,
directing his steps to the waterside; "if he had seen me, he would
have been sure to tell Marvel, and it might have given rise to
suspicion. Where is that dog of a Lascar, and what the devil does he
mean by keeping me waiting?" The words were scarcely uttered when his
face grew deadly white, and an ugly twitching came about the corners
of his lips at what he saw before him. It was merely a man and
woman--evidently lovers--who were walking slowly along, in earnest
conversation. He was about to follow them, when his arm was touched by
a new-comer, in a sailor's dress.
"Here I am, master," said the new-comer.
"See there, you dog!" exclaimed Solomon Fewster, pointing to the
lovers. "See there! What brings her here?"
The Lascar looked after them, shading his eyes with his hand, and
shrugged his shoulders. "Joshua Marvel and Ellen Taylor!" he said,
with a careless laugh. "Doing a little sweethearting on the sly. If
you had the chance, you'd do the same yourself. See, they're turning
back this way; let us get out of sight."
They stood aside, and as the lovers passed, heedful of nothing,
conscious of nothing, but their own great happiness, their faces met,
and a kiss passed between them. In his torment of jealousy, Solomon
Fewster grasped the Lascar's shoulder so tightly as to make the man
wince. The dog shook himself free from his master, and said, "Well,
he'll be away soon, and you'll have the pretty Ellen all to yourself.
Come, now; I don't want to stop here all night. Let us say what we've
got to say, and be done with it."
Solomon Fewster walked away a few steps to recover his composure, and
when he had mastered his agitation, returned to the Lascar.
"I shipped this morning, through an agent," said the Lascar; "here are
my papers."
"It is too dark for me to see them; I must take your word that you
have done what you say."
"You have taken my word before, master, and you have found me
faithful. You keep your part of the bargain; I shall keep mine. It is
my interest to do so."
"Yes, your interest," said Solomon Fewster, with somewhat of a bitter
emphasis. "You have cost me enough, you dog."
Notwithstanding that their positions of master and dog might have been
appropriately reversed, the old fiction was kept up between them, with
insolent arrogance on one side, and with mock humility on the other.
Neither of them deceived the other.
"I might have cost you more, master," replied the Lascar; "but go on."
"Let us see then, if we are agreed upon the position Of matters, and
if we understand one another. When a certain thing happened last
Christmas, which nearly cost a whelp his life, you thought it
necessary for your safety"--
"We thought it necessary for our safety," corrected the Lascar.
"To take yourself off somewhere, so as not to be seen, and therefore
not suspected. Out of sight out of mind. In accordance with that
understanding you went to a certain watering-place, and lived at my
expense until you got into a drunken quarrel with your drunken
mates, in which one of them received a cut across the face. The same
night--being within a week of the present time--you thought it
advisable to leave that district, and you accordingly did so, coming
down here to Gravesend, and apprising me that you were in danger of
arrest and in want of money."
"You talk like a book," said the admiring Lascar, with a laugh.
"I came down to see you, and to advise you"--
"Taking such an interest in me, master!" interrupted the Lascar, with
another and a louder laugh.
"And I told you that as in England a man who is too free with his
knife is likely to be deprived of his liberty for a longer time than
he would probably consider pleasant, the best thing you could do--the
police being on the lookout for you--would be to join a ship bound for
a distant port, and so get clear of danger. Is that fairly stated?"
"Pretty fairly for you, master. It is for me to say, that so long as I
am out of danger your safety is secured. But that's a matter, of
course, that you don't think much of."
"It happening, as it does not often happen with such dogs as you,"
continued Solomon Fewster, taking no other notice of the Lascar's
taunt than was indicated by a contemptuous emphasis on the word
"dogs," "that you were for once open to reason, you agreed with me
that it would be best for you to get out of the country. As luck would
have it, Joshua Marvel's ship, the 'Merry Andrew,' was shortly to
start for New South Wales, and as part of the crew was to be engaged
at Gravesend, where you were skulking about, you set your mind very
strangely upon going in the same ship with the whelp, and according to
your own statement, have accomplished your desire to-day."
"I didn't find it a very difficult thing, master. Sailors are none so
plentiful. Go on."
"When I found that you were determined to go in Joshua Marvel's ship,
I bearing in mind that you have been as faithful as it is in the
nature of such a dog as you to be, told you that the night before the
ship sails, I would come down and give you a few necessaries which you
said you required."
"Such as twenty-five pounds in gold," said the Lascar.
"Such as twenty-five pounds in gold," repeated Solomon Fewster, taking
some packets from his pocket.
"Such as a six-bladed knife."
"Such as a six-bladed knife."
"Such as another knife with one blade."
"Such as another knife with one blade."
"Such as a silver watch and a silver chain."
"Such as a silver watch and a silver chain."
"Bah!" exclaimed the Lascar, in a voice of intense scorn, as he
received the articles, one after another. "Look at the sky, master."
It was intensely dark; the clouds were black, there was no moon, and
not a star was discernible. Solomon Fewster looked up, and said,
"Well?"
"What can you see, master?"
"Nothing."
"Look at me"--he had walked away a few paces. "Can you see me?"
"I can see your form."
"Not my face, nor my eyes?"
"No, you dog!" answered Solomon Fewster hotly, for the Lascar's voice
was contemptuously insolent.
"Bah! you are worse than I am. Too free with my knife, am I? I wonder
whether you would be too free with your knife--in the dark? In the
light I know you wouldn't be. You wouldn't have the pluck to use it.
Look you, master: the first part of what you said was pretty well as
things happened; but the last part--Well, you and me know all about
that. And yet, although we're in the dark, and can't see each other's
face, nor each other's eyes, you haven't pluck enough to tell the
truth; you haven't pluck enough to say even to me, here in the dark,
with no one by, that when I found that the 'Merry Andrew' was
going to sea. I said to you, What a fine thing it would be for me to
go in the same ship as Joshua Marvel, and to take advantage of any
thing that might happen to do him a good turn and that then you
mentioned--quite accidentally, of course--that if any thing should
happen to him through me, you would give me fifty pounds if the 'Merry
Andrew' came home without Joshua Marvel. You haven't pluck enough to
say that then I said, 'Done!' and done it was; but that I--knowing
you, master--made a point of having something in earnest of the
bargain--such as twenty-five pounds in gold; such as a six-bladed
knife; such as another knife with one blade; such as a silver watch
and chain. Bah! If it wasn't that I was such a cursed fool when my
blood is up, that I don't know what I do, and that, because of that,
it is safer for me to leave the country than to remain in it, I would
stop and feed upon you--I would, by God!--and worry the heart out of
such a coward."
"You've been drinking," said Solomon Fewster, with difficulty
suppressing his anger.
"What if I have? I know what I am saying well enough. I have had too
much of your airs of superiority, and of your lies and your acting.
Why, do you think that I would ever have done your dirty work, if it
hadn't served my purpose? Do you think that if I hadn't sworn an oath,
and marked it with my blood, to be revenged upon that damned upstart,
Joshua Marvel, for what he did to me, I would go in his ship? Look
you! I will do my share of the work, never fear, master; but I would
have done it for next to nothing, if you were a man instead of a
sneak!"
"You dog!" cried Solomon Fewster, in an uncontrollable burst of
passion. "You have my money, my knives, and my watch upon you at this
moment. I have half a mind to give you into custody for robbing me."
An exclamation of anger escaped the Lascar, and Solomon Fewster cursed
himself inwardly for his injudiciousness the moment the words had
passed his lips. A long silence followed, a silence lengthened by
Solomon Fewster's fears; for he knew that he was in the Lascar's
power, and could not consider himself safe while his dog was in the
country.
"I didn't mean that," he said, with an awkward effort at conciliation;
"but you were wrong to provoke me."
The Lascar did not reply, and Solomon Fewster's alarm increased every
moment. "Why don't you speak?" he asked.
"I've been thinking, master," then said the Lascar with a quiet
laugh--"I've been thinking that a man isn't safe with such a sneak as
you, and I've made up my mind."
"To what?"
"To this; and if you don't do it, I'll go straight to Joshua Marvel
and his pretty Ellen, and open their eyes to what you are."
"And ruin yourself," said Solomon Fewster, trembling in every limb
like the coward he was.
"And ruin myself," said the Lascar composedly, "and you along with
me."
"You do not know what you are saying."
"You shall see," said the Lascar, moving slowly away.
"Stop! What is it you want me to do?"
"If the 'Merry Andrew' returns without Joshua Marvel, and I, having
done my work, come to you for my wages, it isn't unlikely that you'll
hatch some charge against me which I sha'n't be able to face, for you
are rich and I am poor. I will prevent this. You shall come with me
now to my lodging-house, and you shall scratch upon the inside of my
watch, 'From Solomon Fewster to his Lascar friend,' and you shall give
me a paper saying as how you made me a present of the knives and the
money because I have earned them. This is what I have made up my mind
to, and what I intend to have done, as sure as there is a sky above
us. What's more, I'm not going to have any palaver about it. If you
don't follow me to my lodgings, where I am going this very minute,
I'll peach upon you, by God!"
Without another word, he walked towards the town; and Salomon Fewster,
in a tumult of fear and vain passion, followed him to his lodging, and
unwillingly gave him his bond. That being done, the Lascar repeated
that he might be depended upon for fulfilling his task; and Solomon
Fewster took his leave with the consciousness that the basest of dogs
considered himself superior to the master who used him.
Early the following morning Mrs. Marvel came down to Gravesend, and
all preparations having been made by the Old Sailor, Joshua and Ellen
were married. It was the quietest and happiest of weddings. There were
but two guests--Mrs. Eliza, in a blaze of red ribbons, and Mrs.
Eliza's husband, whose futile efforts to speak in whispers were the
only evidences to Joshua and Ellen that the events of the morning were
real. Every thing but that irrepressible voice was so hushed and
subdued, that it seemed to belong more to a dream than any thing else.
But it was a happy dream, marred by no cloud, made bright by perfect
love. There was no happier person in the party than Mrs. Marvel.
"Now you are truly my daughter," she whispered to Ellen, "and really
belong to me."
"I can't believe that I am awake, mother," said Joshua to Mrs. Marvel,
as they two stood a little apart from the others; "yesterday I had no
thought of this. I wonder if Dan is thinking of me! When will you tell
him?"
"None of them will know, dear, until Ellen comes back, and that won't
be until your ship is gone. Mr. Meddler says it will not sail for two
days, so your honeymoon will be longer than you expected."
"And father! how surprised he will be!"
"He will approve, my dear, when I tell him all."
When she told him all! That means, thought Joshua, when she tells him
about Minnie. But he said nothing aloud in answer. Minnie was in both
his and his mother's thoughts, but neither of them mentioned her name.
"Look at her, Josh," said Mrs. Marvel, turning with affectionate pride
to where Ellen stood, hanging tearfully upon the Old Sailor's arm; "no
man ever had a greater treasure."
Joshua, gazing at the modest figure of his dear little woman, thought
of the comparison he had once drawn between Ellen and Minnie. "Minnie
is like the sea; Ellen like a peaceful lake." Every thing about
her--her dress, her trustful face, the calm light in her eyes--was
suggestive of peaceful love, a haven of refuge from the storms of
life. She turned to him, and he hurried to her side, and took her arm
on his.
"Darling," he whispered, "it seems too wonderful to be real. I am
afraid that I shall wake up presently, and find that it is all a
dream."
Thank God, that while this world of ours is pulsing with mean
ambitions and unworthy strivings, with heartless pleasures and vicious
desires, flowers of circumstance such as this bloom sometimes in the
lives of the poorest among us.
Dinner was taken in Mrs. Eliza's private parlor which, abounded in
family relics of great price, among which were especially conspicuous
two brown-stone mandarins, who wagged their heads upon the
mantle-shelf; two large pieces of white coral under glass shades; some
stuffed parrots similarly protected from the ravages of time; and an
impossible castle made with small shells. It was April weather with
all the company, and smiles and tears alternately chased one another.
Mrs. Eliza's husband proposed the toast of "The new-married couple,"
but, attempting to make a speech, could only get out the words, "And
may they ever," which he repeated four or five times, without being
able to explain himself. However, the toast was drunk not the less
cordially, Mrs. Eliza's husband and the Old Sailor giving three times
three in hearty sailor fashion. Then, it being nearly time for Mrs.
Marvel to go back to Stepney, the Old Sailor rose, glass in hand, and
said,--
"Mrs. Marvel, lady, if you was my own mother, my dear, which you
couldn't be, seeing that I am old enough to be your father, but if you
was my own mother, I couldn't honor you more. Some women are sent into
the world expressly to be mothers; you're one of 'em, and a noble one
you are, and a credit to Britannia. Here's may Josh and his lass ever
be a pride to your heart, lady, as they have ever been, and may Josh
be a skipper before he's thirty! And if a rusty old sailor like me,
lady, can ever serve you, my dear, I shall be proud to be commanded by
such a commander."
With that he drained his glass, and turning it upside down, took Mrs.
Marvel's hand and kissed it, like the gallant knight he was. Amid
tears and embraces and blessings, Mrs. Marvel took her departure,
escorted by the Old Sailor; and the lovers were left to their quiet
honeymoon. The "Merry Andrew" did not sail until two days afterwards,
as the Old Sailor had said. All too swiftly flew by the hours in that
brief time; and Joshua and Ellen found it harder to part than they had
ever done before.
"I am pledged to you forever, darling," said Joshua, as they stood
together during the last few minutes.
"And I to you, dear."
"I want a curl, Ellen; not to remind me of you, but to have something
of you always near me."
She cut off one of her brown curls, and he kissed her and it, and
placed it in the Bible Dan had given him.
"How shall I count the days, darling! But I shall see you through all
my work. It is time for me to go. My undying faithful love for you. My
undying faithful love for Dan. And now, put your arms about my neck,
and say 'God bless you, and bring you safely back!'"
"God bless you, and bring you safely back, my dear, my heart's
treasure!"
Her strength failed her here, and she was sinking to the ground.
"Take her, sir," said Joshua to the Old Sailor, who was standing a
little apart. "May Heaven reward you for all your kindness!" He
stooped and kissed her once more, and whispering, "I leave my heart
behind me," hurried with uneven steps to the boat in waiting for him.