Doctor Fillet having borrowed a couple of sheets from the landlady,
dressed the misanthrope and Tom Clarke in ghostly apparel, which was
reinforced by a few drops of liquid phosphorus, from Ferret’s vial,
rubbed on the foreheads of the two adventurers. Thus equipped, they
returned to the church with their conductor, who entered with them softly
at an aisle which was opposite to a place where the novice kept watch.
They stole unperceived through the body of the church; and though it was
so dark that they could not distinguish the captain with the eye, they
heard the sound of his steps, as he walked backwards and forwards on the
pavement with uncommon expedition, and an ejaculation now and then
escaped in a murmur from this lips.
The triumvirate having taken their station with a large pew in their
front, the two ghosts uncovered their heads, which by the help of the
phosphorus exhibited a pale and lambent flame, extremely dismal and
ghastly to the view; then Ferret in a squeaking tone, exclaimed, “Samuel
Crowe! Samuel Crowe!” The captain hearing himself accosted in this
manner, at such a time, and in such a place, replied, “Hilloah”; and
turning his eyes towards the quarter whence the voice seemed to proceed,
beheld the terrible apparition. This no sooner saluted his view than his
hair bristled up, his knees began to knock, and his teeth to chatter,
while he cried aloud, “In the name of God, where are you bound, ho?” To
this hail the misanthrope answered, “We are the spirits of thy
grandmother Jane and thy aunt Bridget.”
At mention of these names, Crowe’s terrors began to give way to his
resentment, and he pronounced in a quick tone of surprise, mixed with
indignation, “What d’ye want? what d’ye want? what d’ye want, ho?” The
spirit replied, “We are sent to warn thee of thy fate.” “From whence,
ho?” cried the captain, whose choler had by this time well-nigh triumphed
over his fear. “From Heaven,” said the voice. “Ye lie, ye b------s of
hell!” did our novice exclaim; “ye are d--ned for heaving me out of my
right, five fathom and a half by the lead, in burning brimstone. Don’t I
see the blue flames come out of your hawse holes?--mayhap you may be the
devil himself, for aught I know--but I trust in the Lord, d’ye see--I
never disrated a kinsman, d’ye see, so don’t come alongside of me--put
about on th’other tack, d’ye see--you need not clap hard a-weather, for
you’ll soon get to hell again with a flowing sail.”
So saying, he had recourse to his Paternoster; but perceiving the
apparitions approach, he thundered out, “Avast,--avast--sheer off, ye
babes of hell, or I’ll be foul of your forelights.” He accordingly
sprung forwards with his hanger, and very probably would have set the
spirits on their way to the other world, had he not fallen over a pew in
the dark, and entangled himself so much among the benches, that he could
not immediately recover his footing. The triumvirate took this
opportunity to retire; and such was the precipitation of Ferret in his
retreat, that he encountered a post by which his right eye sustained
considerable damage; a circumstance which induced him to inveigh bitterly
against his own folly, as well as the impertinence of his companions, who
had inveigled him into such a troublesome adventure. Neither he nor
Clarke could be prevailed upon to revisit the novice. The doctor himself
thought his disease was desperate; and, mounting his horse, returned to
his own habitation.
Ferret, finding all the beds in the public-house were occupied, composed
himself to sleep in a Windsor chair at the chimney corner; and Mr.
Clarke, whose disposition was extremely amorous, resolved to renew his
practices on the heart of Dolly. He had reconnoitred the apartments in
which the bodies of the knight and his squire were deposited, and
discovered close by the top of the staircase a sort of a closet or hovel,
just large enough to contain a truckle bed, which, from some other
particulars, he supposed to be the bedchamber of his beloved Dolly, who
had by this time retired to her repose. Full of this idea, and
instigated by the demon of desire, Mr. Thomas crept softly upstairs, and
lifting the latch of the closet door, his heart began to palpitate with
joyous expectation; but before he could breathe the gentle effusions of
his love, the supposed damsel started up and seizing him by the collar
with a Herculean gripe, uttered, in the voice of Crabshaw, “It wan’t for
nothing that I dreamed of Newgate, sirrah; but I’d have thee to know, an
arrant squire is not to be robbed by such a peddling thief as thee--here
I’ll howld thee vast, an the devil were in thy doublet--help! murder!
vire! help!”
It was impossible for Mr. Clarke to disengage himself, and equally
impracticable to speak in his own vindication; so that here he stood
trembling and half throttled, until the whole house being alarmed, the
landlady and her ostler ran upstairs with a candle. When the light
rendered objects visible, an equal astonishment prevailed on all sides;
Crabshaw was confounded at sight of Mr. Clarke, whose person he well
knew; and releasing him instantly from his grasp, “Bodikins!” cried he,
“I believe as how this hause is haunted--who thought to meet with Measter
Laawyer Clarke at midnight, and so far from hoam?” The landlady could
not comprehend the meaning of this encounter; nor could Tom conceive how
Crabshaw had transported himself thither from the room below, in which he
saw him quietly reposed. Yet nothing was more easy than to explain this
mystery: the apartment below was the chamber which the hostess and her
daughter reserved for their own convenience; and this particular having
been intimated to the squire while he was at supper, he had resigned his
bed quietly, and been conducted hither in the absence of the company.
Tom, recollecting himself as well as he could, professed himself of
Crabshaw’s opinion, that the house was haunted, declaring that he could
not well account for his being there in the dark; and leaving those that
were assembled to discuss this knotty point, retired downstairs in hope
of meeting with his charmer, whom accordingly he found in the kitchen
just risen, and wrapped in a loose dishabille.
The noise of Crabshaw’s cries had awakened and aroused his master, who,
rising suddenly in the dark, snatched up his sword that lay by his
bedside, and hastened to the scene of tumult, where all their mouths were
opened at once, to explain the cause of the disturbance, and make an
apology for breaking his honour’s rest. He said nothing, but taking the
candle in his hand, beckoned his squire to follow him into his apartment,
resolving to arm and take horse immediately. Crabshaw understood his
meaning; and while he shuffled on his clothes, yawning hideously all the
while, wished the lawyer at the devil for having visited him so
unseasonably; and even cursed himself for the noise he had made, in
consequence of which he foresaw he should now be obliged to forfeit his
night’s rest, and travel in the dark, exposed to the inclemencies of the
weather. “Pox rot thee, Tom Clarke, for a wicked lawyer!” said he to
himself; “hadst thou been hanged at Bartlemy-tide, I should this night
have slept in peace, that I should--an I would there was a blister on
this plaguy tongue of mine for making such a hollo-ballo, that I do--five
gallons of cold water has my poor belly been drenched with since night
fell, so as my reins and my liver are all one as if they were turned into
ice, and my whole harslet shakes and shivers like a vial of quicksilver.
I have been dragged, half-drowned like a rotten ewe, from the bottom of a
river; and who knows but I may be next dragged quite dead from the bottom
of a coal-pit--if so be as I am, I shall go to hell to be sure, for being
consarned like in my own moorder, that I will, so I will; for, a plague
on it! I had no business with the vagaries of this crazy-peated measter
of mine, a pox on him, say I.”
He had just finished this soliloquy as he entered the apartment of his
master, who desired to know what was become of his armour. Timothy,
understanding that it had been left in the room when the knight
undressed, began to scratch his head in great perplexity; and at last
declared it as his opinion, that it must have been carried off by
witchcraft. Then he related his adventure with Tom Clarke, who he said
was conveyed to his bedside he knew not how; and concluded with affirming
they were no better than Papishes who did not believe in witchcraft. Sir
Launcelot could not help smiling at his simplicity; but assuming a
peremptory air, he commanded him to fetch the armour without delay, that
he might afterwards saddle the horses, in order to prosecute their
journey.
Timothy retired in great tribulation to the kitchen, where, finding the
misanthrope, whom the noise had also disturbed, and, still impressed with
the notion of his being a conjurer, he offered him a shilling if he would
cast a figure, and let him know what was become of his master’s armour.
Ferret, in hope of producing more mischief, informed him without
hesitation, that one of the company had conveyed it into the chancel of
the church, where he would now find it deposited; at the same time
presenting him with the key, which Mr. Fillet had left in his custody.
The squire, who was none of those who set hobgoblins at defiance, being
afraid to enter the church alone at these hours, bargained with the
ostler to accompany and light him with a lantern. Thus attended, he
advanced to the place where the armour lay in a heap, and loaded it upon
the back of his attendant without molestation, the lance being shouldered
over the whole. In this equipage they were just going to retire, when
the ostler, hearing a noise at some distance, wheeled about with such
velocity, that one end of the spear saluting Crabshaw’s pate, the poor
squire measured his length on the ground; and, crushing the lantern in
his fall, the light was extinguished. The other, terrified at these
effects of his own sudden motion, threw down his burden, and would have
betaken himself to flight, had not Crabshaw laid fast hold on his leg,
that he himself might not be deserted. The sound of the pieces
clattering on the pavement roused Captain Crowe from a trance or slumber,
in which he had lain since the apparition vanished; and he hallooed, or
rather bellowed, with vast vociferation. Timothy and his friend were so
intimidated by this terrific strain, that they thought no more of the
armour, but ran home arm in arm, and appeared in the kitchen with all the
marks of horror and consternation.
When Sir Launcelot came forth wrapped in his cloak, and demanded his
arms, Crabshaw declared that the devil had them in possession; and this
assertion was confirmed by the ostler, who pretended to know the devil by
his roar. Ferret sat in his corner, maintaining the most mortifying
silence, and enjoying the impatience of the knight, who in vain requested
an explanation of this mystery. At length his eyes began to lighten,
when, seizing Crabshaw in one hand, and the ostler in the other, he swore
by Heaven he would dash their souls out, and raze the house to the
foundation, if they did not instantly disclose the particulars of this
transaction. The good woman fell on her knees, protesting, in the name
of the Lord, that she was innocent as the child unborn, thof she had lent
the captain a Prayer-Book to learn the Lord’s Prayer, a candle and
lantern to light him to the church, and a couple of clean sheets, for the
use of the other gentlemen. The knight was more and more puzzled by this
declaration; when Mr. Clarke, coming into the kitchen, presented himself
with a low obeisance to his old patron.
Sir Launcelot’s anger was immediately converted into surprise. He set at
liberty the squire and the ostler, and stretching out his hand to the
lawyer, “My good friend Clarke,” said he, “how came you hither? Can you
solve this knotty point which has involved us all in such confusion?”
Tom forthwith began a very circumstantial recapitulation of what had
happened to his uncle; in what manner he had been disappointed of the
estate; how he had accidentally seen his honour, been enamoured of his
character, and become ambitious of following his example. Then he
related the particulars of the plan which had been laid down to divert
him from his design, and concluded with assuring the knight, that the
captain was a very honest man, though he seemed to be a little disordered
in his intellects. “I believe it,” replied Sir Launcelot; “madness and
honesty are not incompatible--indeed, I feel it by experience.”
Tom proceeded to ask pardon, in his uncle’s name, for having made so free
with the knight’s armour; and begged his honour, for the love of God,
would use his authority with Crowe, that he might quit all thoughts of
knight-errantry, for which he was by no means qualified; for, being
totally ignorant of the laws of the land, he would be continually
committing trespasses, and bring himself into trouble. He said, in case
he should prove refractory, he might be apprehended by virtue of a
friendly warrant, for having feloniously carried off the knight’s
accoutrements. “Taking away another man’s moveables,” said he, “and
personal goods against the will of the owner, is furtum and felony
according to the statute. Different indeed from robbery, which implies
putting in fear in the king’s highway, in alta via regia violenter et
felonice captum et asportatum, in magnum terrorem, etc.; for if the
robbery be laid in the indictment, as done in quadam via pedestri, in a
footpath, the offender will not be ousted of his clergy. It must be in
alta via regia; and your honour will please to take notice, that
robberies committed on the river Thames are adjudged as done in alta via
regia; for the king’s highstream is all the same as the king’s highway.”
Sir Launcelot could not help smiling at Tom’s learned investigation. He
congratulated him on the progress he had made in the study of the law.
He expressed his concern at the strange turn the captain had taken, and
promised to use his influence in persuading him to desist from the
preposterous design he had formed.
The lawyer, thus assured, repaired immediately to the church, accompanied
by the squire, and held a parley with his uncle, who, when he understood
that the knight in person desired a conference, surrendered up the arms
quietly, and returned to the public-house.
Sir Launcelot received the honest seaman with his usual complacency; and
perceiving great discomposure in his looks, said, he was sorry to hear he
had passed such a disagreeable night to so little purpose. Crowe, having
recruited his spirits with a bumper of brandy, thanked him for his
concern, and observed, that he had passed many a hard night in his time;
but such another as this, he would not be bound to weather for the
command of the whole British navy. “I have seen Davy Jones in the shape
of a blue flame, d’ye see, hopping to and fro on the sprit-sail yardarm;
and I’ve seen your Jacks o’ the Lanthorn, and Wills o’ the Wisp, and many
such spirits, both by sea and land. But to-night I’ve been boarded by
all the devils and d--ned souls in hell, squeaking and squalling, and
glimmering and glaring. Bounce went the door--crack went the pew--crash
came the tackle--white-sheeted ghosts dancing in one corner by the
glow-worm’s light--black devils hobbling in another--Lord have mercy upon
us! and I was hailed, Tom, I was, by my grandmother Jane, and my aunt
Bridget, d’ye see--a couple of d--n’d--but they’re roasting; that’s one
comfort, my lad.”
When he had thus disburdened his conscience, Sir Launcelot introduced
the subject of the new occupation at which he aspired. “I understand,”
said he, “that you are desirous of treading the paths of errantry,
which, I assure you, are thorny and troublesome. Nevertheless, as
your purpose is to exercise your humanity and benevolence, so your
ambition is commendable. But towards the practice of chivalry, there is
something more required than the virtues of courage and generosity. A
knight-errant ought to understand the sciences, to be master of ethics or
morality, to be well versed in theology, a complete casuist, and minutely
acquainted with the laws of his country. He should not only be patient
of cold, hunger, and fatigue, righteous, just, and valiant, but also
chaste, religious, temperate, polite, and conversable; and have all his
passions under the rein, except love, whose empire he should submissively
acknowledge.” He said, this was the very essence of chivalry; and no man
had ever made such a profession of arms, without first having placed his
affection upon some beauteous object, for whose honour, and at whose
command, he would cheerfully encounter the most dreadful perils.
He took notice, that nothing could be more irregular than the manner in
which Crowe had attempted to keep his vigil. For he had never served his
novitiate--he had not prepared himself with abstinence and prayer--he had
not provided a qualified godfather for the ceremony of dubbing--he had no
armour of his own to wake; but, on the very threshold of chivalry, which
is the perfection of justice, had unjustly purloined the arms of another
knight. That this was a mere mockery of a religious institution, and
therefore unpleasing in the sight of Heaven; witness the demons and
hobgoblins that were permitted to disturb and torment him in his trial.
Crowe having listened to these remarks with earnest attention, replied,
after some hesitation, “I am bound to you, brother, for your kind and
Christian counsel--I doubt as how I’ve steered by a wrong chart, d’ye
see--as for the matter of the sciences, to be sure, I know Plain Sailing
and Mercator; and am an indifferent good seaman, thof I say it that
should not say it. But as to all the rest, no better than the viol-block
or the geer-capstan. Religion I han’t much overhauled; and we tars laugh
at your polite conversation, thof, mayhap, we can chaunt a few ballads to
keep the hands awake in the night watch; then for chastity, brother, I
doubt that’s not expected in a sailor just come ashore, after a long
voyage--sure all those poor hearts won’t be d--ned for steering in the
wake of nature. As for a sweetheart, Bet Mizen of St. Catherine’s would
fit me to a hair--she and I are old messmates; and what signifies
talking, brother, she knows already the trim of my vessel, d’ye see.” He
concluded with saying, he thought he wa’n’t too old to learn; and if Sir
Launcelot would take him in tow as his tender, he would stand by him all
weathers, and it should not cost his consort a farthing’s expense.
The knight said, he did not think himself of consequence enough to have
such a pupil, but should always be ready to give him his best advice; as
a specimen of which, he exhorted him to weigh all the circumstances, and
deliberate calmly and leisurely, before he actually engaged in such a
boisterous profession; assuring him, that if, at the end of three months,
his resolution should continue, he would take upon himself the office of
his instructor. In the meantime he gratified the hostess for his
lodging, put on his armour, took leave of the company, and, mounting
Bronzomarte, proceeded southerly, being attended by his squire Crabshaw,
grumbling, on the back of Gilbert.