About the beginning of the present century, during the height of the war
with France, the little fishing village of Fairway was thrown into a
state of considerable alarm by the appearance of a ship of war off the
coast, and the landing therefrom of a body of blue-jackets. At that
time it was the barbarous custom to impress men, willing or not willing,
into the Royal Navy. The more effective, and at the same time just,
method of enrolling men in a naval reserve force had not occurred to our
rulers, and, as a natural consequence, the inhabitants of sea-port towns
and fishing villages were on the constant look-out for the press-gang.
At the time when the man-of-war's boat rowed alongside of the little
jetty of Fairway, an interesting couple chanced to be seated in a bower
at the back of a very small but particularly neat cottage near the
shore. The bower was in keeping with its surroundings, being the half
of an old boat set up on end. Roses and honeysuckle were trained up the
sides of it, and these, mingling their fragrance with the smell of tar,
diffused an agreeable odour around. The couple referred to sat very
close to each other, and appeared to be engaged in conversation of a
confidential nature. One was a fair and rather pretty girl of the
fishing community. The other was a stout and uncommonly handsome man of
five-and-twenty, apparently belonging to the same class, but there was
more of the regular sailor than the fisherman in his costume and
appearance. In regard to their conversation, it may be well, perhaps,
to let them speak for themselves.
"I tell 'ee wot it is, Nelly Blyth," said the man, in a somewhat stern
tone of voice; "it won't suit me to dilly-dally in this here fashion any
longer. You've kept me hanging off and on until I have lost my chance
of gettin' to be mate of a Noocastle collier; an' here I am now, with
nothin' to do, yawin' about like a Dutchman in a heavy swell, an'
feelin' ashamed of myself."
"Don't be so hasty, Bill," replied the girl, glancing up at her lover's
face with an arch smile; "what would you have?"
"What would I have?" repeated the sailor, in a tone of mingled surprise
and exasperation. "Well, I never--no, I never did see nothin' like you
women for bamboozlin' men. It seems to me you're like ships without
helms. One moment you're beatin' as hard as you can to wind'ard; the
next you fall off all of a sudden and scud away right before the breeze;
or, whew! round you come into the wind's eye, an' lay to as if you'd bin
caught in the heaviest gale that ever blow'd since Admiral Noah cast
anchor on Mount Ararat. Didn't you say, not three weeks gone by, that
you'd be my wife? and now you ask me, as cool as an iceberg, what I
would have! Why, Nelly, I would have our wedding-day fixed, our cottage
looked after, our boat and nets bought; in fact, our home and business
set a-goin'. And why not at once, Nelly? Surely you have not
repented--"
"No, Bill Bowls," said Nelly, blushing, and laying her hand on the arm
of her companion, "I have not repented, and never will repent, of having
accepted the best man that ever came to Fairway; but--"
The girl paused and looked down.
"There you go," cried the sailor: "the old story. I knew you would come
to that `but,' and that you'd stick there. Why don't you go on? If I
thought that you wanted to wait a year or two, I could easily find work
in these times; for Admiral Nelson is glad to get men to follow him to
the wars, an' Tom Riggles and I have been talkin' about goin' off
together."
"Don't speak of _that_, Bill," said the girl earnestly. "I dread the
thought of you going to the wars; but--but--the truth is, I cannot make
up my mind to quit my mother."
"You don't need to quit her," said Bill; "bring her with you. I'll be
glad to have her at my fireside, for your sake, Nell."
"But she won't leave the old house."
"H'm! well, that difficulty may be got over by my comin' to the old
house, since the old 'ooman won't come to the noo one. I can rent it
from her, and buy up the furniture as it stands; so that there will be
no occasion for her to move out of her chair.--Why, what's the objection
to that plan?" he added, on observing that Nelly shook her head.
"She would never consent to sell the things,--not even to you, Bill; and
she has been so long the head of the house that I don't think she would
like to--to--"
"To play second fiddle," put in the sailor. "Very good, but I won't ask
to play first fiddle. In fact, she may have first, second, and third,
and double bass and trombone, all to herself as far as I am concerned.
Come, Nelly, don't let us have any more `buts'; just name the day, and
I'll bear down on the parson this very afternoon."
Leaving them to continue the discussion of this interesting point, we
will turn into the cottage and visit the old woman who stood so much in
the way of our hero's wishes.
Mrs Blyth was one of those unfortunates who, although not very old,
have been, by ill-health, reduced to the appearance of extreme old age.
Nevertheless, she had been blessed with that Christian spirit of calm,
gentle resignation, which is frequently seen in aged invalids, enabling
them to bear up cheerfully under heavy griefs and sufferings. She was
very little, very thin, very lame, very old-looking (ninety at least, in
appearance), very tremulous, very subdued, and _very_ sweet. Even that
termagant gossip, Mrs Hard-soul, who dwelt alone in a tumble-down hut
near the quay, was heard upon one occasion to speak of her as "dear old
Mrs Blyth."
Beside Mrs Blyth, on a stool, engaged in peeling potatoes, sat a young
woman who was in all respects her opposite. Bessy Blunt was tall,
broad, muscular, plain-looking, masculine, and remarkably unsubdued.
She was a sort of maid-of-all-work and companion to the old woman. Mrs
Blyth lived in the hope of subduing her attendant--who was also her
niece--by means of kindness.
"Who came into the garden just now?" asked Mrs Blyth in a meek voice.
"Who would it be but William Bowls? sure he comes twice every day,
sometimes oftener," replied Bessy; "but what's the use? nothing comes of
it."
"Something _may_ come of it, Bessy," said Mrs Blyth, "if William
settles down steadily to work, but I am anxious about him, for he seems
to me hasty in temper. Surely, Bessy, you would not like to see our
Nell married to an angry man?"
"I don't know about that," replied the girl testily, as she cut a potato
in two halves with unnecessary violence; "all I know is that I would
like to see her married to Bill Bowls. He's an able, handsome man.
Indeed, I would gladly marry him myself if he asked me!"
Mrs Blyth smiled a little at this. Bessy frowned at a potato and said
"Humph!" sternly.
Now it happened just at that moment that the press-gang before referred
to arrived in front of the cottage. Bessy chanced to look through the
window, and saw them pass. Instantly she ran to the back door and
screamed "Press-gang," as a warning to Bill to get out of the way and
hide himself as quickly as possible, then, hastening back, she seized
one of old Mrs Blyth's crutches, ran to the front door, and slammed it
to, just as the leader of the gang came forward.
Meanwhile William Bowls, knowing that if he did not make his escape, his
hopes of being married speedily would be blasted, turned to leap over
the garden wall, but the leader of the press-gang had taken care to
guard against such a contingency by sending a detachment round to the
rear.
"It's all up with me!" cried Bill, with a look of chagrin, on observing
the men.
"Come, hide in the kitchen; quick! I will show you where," cried Nelly,
seizing his hand and leading him into the house, the back door of which
she locked and barred.
"There, get in," cried the girl, opening a low door in the wall, which
revealed the coal-hole of the establishment.
Bill's brow flushed. He drew back with a proud stern look and
hesitated.
"Oh, do! for _my_ sake," implored Nell.
A thundering rap on the front door resounded through the cottage; the
sailor put his pride in his pocket, stooped low and darted in. Nelly
shut the door, and leaned a baking-board against it.
"Let us in!" said a deep voice outside.
"Never!" replied Bessy, stamping her foot.
"You had better, dear," replied the voice, in a conciliatory tone; "we
won't do you any harm."
"Go along with you--brutes!" said the girl.
"We'll have to force the door if you don't open it, my dear."
"You'd better not!" cried Bessy through the keyhole.
At the same time she applied her eye to that orifice, and instantly
started back, for she saw the leader of the gang retire a few paces
preparatory to making a rush. There was short time for action,
nevertheless Bessy was quick enough to fling down a large stool in front
of the door and place herself in an attitude of defence. Next moment
the door flew open with a crash, and a sailor sprang in, cutlass in
hand. As a matter of course he tripped over the stool, and fell
prostrate at Bessy's feet, and the man who followed received such a
well-delivered blow from the crutch that he fell on the top of his
comrade. While the heroine was in the act of receiving the third she
felt both her ankles seized by the man who had fallen first. A piercing
yell followed. In attempting to free herself she staggered back and
fell, the crutch was wrenched from her grasp, and the whole gang poured
over her into the kitchen, where they were met by their comrades, who
had just burst in the back door.
"Search close," cried one of these; "there's a big fellow in the house;
we saw him run into it."
"You may save yourselves the trouble; there's no man in this house,"
cried Bessy, who had risen and followed her conquerors, and who now
stood, with dishevelled locks, flushed countenance, and gleaming eyes,
vowing summary vengeance on the first man she caught off his guard!
As the men believed her, they took care to keep well on their guard
while engaged in the search. Poor old Mrs Blyth looked absolutely
horror-stricken at this invasion of her cottage, and Nelly stood beside
her, pale as marble and trembling with anxiety.
Every hole and corner of the house was searched without success; the
floors were examined for trap-doors, and even the ceilings were
carefully looked over, but there was no sign of any secret door, and the
careless manner in which the bake-board had been leaned against the
wall, as well as its small size, prevented suspicion being awakened in
that direction. This being the case, the leader of the gang called two
of his men aside and engaged in a whispered conversation.
"It's quite certain that he is here," said one, "but where they have
stowed him is the puzzle."
"Well, it is indeed a puzzle," replied the leader, "but I've thought of
a plan. He may be the father, or brother, or cousin of the household,
d'ye see, and it strikes me if we were to pretend to insult the women,
that would draw him out!"
"But I don't half like that notion," said one of the men.
"Why not?" asked the other, who wore a huge pair of whiskers, "it's only
pretence, you know. Come, I'll try it."
Saying this he went towards old Mrs Blyth and whispered to
Nelly--"Don't be frightened, my ducky, we're only a-goin' to try a
dodge, d'ye see. Stand by, we won't do you no harm."
The man winked solemnly several times with the view of reassuring Nelly,
and then raising his voice to a loud pitch exclaimed--
"Come now, old 'ooman, it's quite plain that there's a feller in this
here house, an' as we can't find him nowheres, we've come to the
conclusion he must be under your big chair. In coorse we must ask you
to git up, an' as ye don't seem to be able to do that very well, we'll
have to lift you. So here goes."
The man seized the old woman's chair and shuffled with his feet as
though he were about to lift it. Nelly screamed. Bessy uttered a howl
of indignation, and rushed upon the foe with teeth and nails ready, but
being arrested by a powerful man in the rear, she vented her wrath in a
hideous yell.
The success of the scheme was great--much greater, indeed, than had been
anticipated. The bake-board fell flat down, the door of the coal-hole
burst open, and our hero, springing out, planted a blow on the nose of
the big-whiskered man that laid him flat on the floor. Another blow
overturned the man who restrained Bessy, and a third was about to be
delivered when a general rush was made, and Bill Bowls, being
overpowered by numbers, was finally secured.
"Now, my fine fellow," said the leader of the gang, "you may as well go
with us quietly, for ye see resistance is useless, an' it only frightens
the old woman."
This latter part of the remark had more effect on the unfortunate Bill
than the former. He at once resigned himself into the hands of his
captors. As he was about to be led away, he turned towards Mrs Blyth,
intending to speak, but the poor old woman had fainted, and Nelly's
fears for her lover were lost for the moment in her anxiety about her
mother. It was not until the party had left the room that the poor girl
became fully aware of what was going on.
Uttering a loud cry she rushed towards the outer door. Bill heard the
cry, and, exerting himself to the utmost, almost succeeded in
overturning the five men who held him.
"Make your mind easy," said one of them; "no harm will come to the
women. We ain't housebreakers or thieves. All fair an' above board we
are--true-blue British tars, as would rather swing at the yard-arm than
hurt the feelin's of a woman, pretty or ugly, young or old. It's all in
the way of dooty, d'ye see? The King's orders, young man so belay
heavin' about like that, else we'll heave ye on your beam-ends, lash you
hand and futt to a handspike, and carry you aboord like a dead pig."
"Hold on!" cried the man with the big whiskers, who, after having been
knocked down, had become emphatically the man with the big nose, "I'll
go back an' comfort them a bit: don't you take on so. _I_ know all
about it--see through it like a double patent hextromogriphal spy-glass.
Only goin' on a short cruise, d'ye see? Come back soon with lots o'
prize-money; get spliced right off, buy a noo gown with big flowers all
over it for the old mother, pension off the stout gal wi' the crutch--
all straight; that's the thing ain't it?"
"Don't, don't," entreated Bill earnestly; "don't go for to--to--"
"No fear, young man," replied the sailor, seeing that Bill hesitated;
"Ben Bolter ain't the man to do anything that would bring discredit on
His Majesty's service, and I bear you no grudge for this," he added,
pointing to his swelled nose; "it was given in a good cause, and
received in the reg'lar way o' business."
Saying this Ben Bolter ran back to the cottage, where he tried to
comfort the women to the best of his power. How he accomplished his
mission does not remain on record, but it is certain that he rejoined
his party, in little more than five minutes, with sundry new marks of
violence on his huge honest face, and he was afterwards heard to remark
that some creatures of the tiger species must have been born women by
mistake, and that stout young females who had a tendency to use
crutches, had better be pensioned off--or, "drownded if possible."
Thus was William Bowls impressed into the Royal Navy. On hearing that
his old shipmate had been caught, Tom Riggles at once volunteered into
the service, and they were both sent on board a man-of-war, and carried
off to fight the battles of their country.