We must now leave the party of Harbury Park for a short period; ay!
and the party at the manor-house also, and go to a somewhat humbler
scene, though not without its comforts and even elegances. We must
also go back in point of time for somewhat more than one day, and yet
not quite two, and ask the gentle reader to accompany us to a small
but neat white stone house, situated among the woods, which we have
mentioned as crowning the summits of the high cliffs that guarded the
seashore. The house was perched upon the top of one of the highest of
these, which overhung the group of small fishermen's cottages, in
which the brother of good John Hailes dwelt, and at the distance of
about a mile from John's own abode. Through the wood and down to the
shore was practised a small, well-trimmed path, from the gate of the
little garden over the face of the cliff, guarded in the precipitous
parts by neat wooden balustrades, from which a pleasant scene of ocean
and seacoast was visible at various points to the walker who chose to
pause, and, leaning his folded arms upon the railing, gaze over at the
view below.
There was no carriage-way through the wood up to the house, and for
about a quarter of a mile there did not appear even a cart-road; but
there was an excellent, well-beaten footpath, wide enough for a horse
or two abreast, which led out into the way made for the wood-carts,
and thence to a small by-road, by which the fishermen sent up their
fish to the county town. Those were not days when everything on earth
went to London.
The house itself was neat, the garden kept in beautiful order, and, in
a warm situation upon a genial coast, was prolific of every kind of
flower that had been at that time introduced into England; but
although these were signs of a landsman's tastes, there were not
wanting indications of nautical habits and associations. There was a
tall pole, with a vane at the top, carried sufficiently high above the
neighbouring trees to indicate truly what wind was blowing at the
time. A difficulty having been found in carrying this pole up to the
proper height in one piece, it had been managed as a mast, with a step
and sort of topmast; and, to make the whole sure, various stays and
braces had been carried down and made fast to the roof of the house;
so that, seen over the tops of the trees, it appeared exactly like the
mast of a ship rising out of the wood. In the garden was seen a little
summer-house, formed from a large boat sawn in two; and at the other
end of the house, opposite to the mast, was raised a flagstaff, with a
block and pulley, for running up and down a flag upon occasion.
As far as description goes, this will be enough; and we will now
immediately proceed to the dwellers in that house, and those with whom
they were in communication about six-and-thirty hours previously to
the period at which we last left Charles Tyrrell.
The evening sunshine was at that time bright over the world; but it
reached not the house or the gardens around it, the trees throwing
them at that period into shadow. The door, however, was open, and
leaning against one of the doorposts was a stout, elderly man, strong
in limb, rather bulky in size, and with a form apparently better
adapted for the exertion of slow but vigorous efforts, than for
anything like grace or activity. His features were good, though
somewhat heavy; except, indeed, the eyes, which were keen and even
sharp in expression. His complexion was of that dark brown hue which
is generally called weather-beaten, and his hair was gray and rather
short, except, indeed, behind, where it was gathered into an
enormously long, thin queue, as was not uncommon among seamen at that
time. This queue was bound tightly up with black riband, and in
colour, form, and length resembled very much a lady's riding-whip of
the present day.
He was raised upon the step of the door, and was, consequently,
looking down upon another person, whom he spoke to, standing on the
little gravel semicircle before the house, and who was also somewhat
shorter than himself. His companion, however, was apparently not less
endowed with corporeal vigour, and though not a young man by any
means, was two or three years younger than the master of the house. He
was broadly built, with large, strong limbs, a rough, hale
countenance, and a frank, clear blue eye. There were one or two deep
scars upon his face, which somewhat disfigured him; but in every other
respect his countenance was good and pleasing, though there was about
it, at the moment, a sort of thoughtfulness and sternness which
betokened occupation with matters of importance and moment.
While talking to the other, he remained with his large brawny hands
behind his back, looking up in the face of his companion with the
queue, and the subject they spoke upon was marked as one of
considerable interest, more by the pauses for reflection which took
place between every sentence and its rejoinder, than by any great
changes of expression called up in the speakers' countenances. They
evidently understood each other perfectly, so that whatever was to be
said was only, in fact, half expressed, and that in a particular slang
of their own, eked out by a shrug of the shoulders, a lifting up of
the eyebrows, or an occasional ejection of tobacco-juice from the
mouth, which seemed to be looked upon as very expressive.
"Well, good-night, Master Longly," said the shorter of the two, taking
a step back from the door and shaking hands with the other: "I'll do
as you think fit, you know; but I think myself--the sooner gone the
better."
"So do I, so do I," answered the other. "Good-night, old Will."
But, though they mutually wished each other good-night, they by no
means parted, nor, indeed, seemed to have the slightest idea that they
were going to part; for Master Longly, or, as the people about the
country used generally to call him, Captain Long, descended from his
doorway as the other turned away, and sauntered after him through the
garden; while Old Will, as he termed him, perfectly sure that the
other was following, continued his observations in rejoinder to what
had taken place at the door.
Thus they walked on, putting one slow step before another till they
reached the top of the cliff, where they again came to a pause and
another discussion, and then breaking off again, old Will began to
descend the zigzag towards the shore, while Longly, after taking two
or three steps farther, leaned over the railing as he had done forty
times before in the same circumstances, and continued talking with the
other till he was half way down. Then came the quicker and final
good-night, and Captain Long took his way back with a somewhat more
rapid step.
The history of Captain Long, or, as he is more accurately described in
some of his official papers, Mr. Thomas Longly, Master Mariner, is
soon told: and it was a history then very common among the inhabitants
of the seacoast of England. He had been a somewhat wildish youth in
the nearest seaport town; had received a good plain education; but,
smitten with a love of adventure, had volunteered on board a king's
ship; for which his father, who was a dealer in marine stores, had
instantly disinherited him, and declared he would cut him off with a
shilling, in imitation of his betters. The boy was clever and active,
bold and enterprising, but by no means fond of any kind of restraint,
and with a strong spice of obstinacy in his nature, which,
notwithstanding the subordination of a ship of war, made him set out
with resisting and attempting to run as soon as he found that his
majesty's service was not quite so easy and joyous a life as he had
expected. He was not easily broken of such bad propensities; but the
cat-o'nine-tails was applied, and not in vain, the youth soon finding
that it was less disagreeable to obey and exert himself, than to make
in effectual efforts at resistance and be flogged for his pains.
His commander was a smart officer, but a just man. Occasions of
difficulty and danger soon presented themselves, for England was then
in the midst of a hot war; and the boy proving active as a squirrel
and bold as a lion, gained attention and distinction; was noticed by
the captain, and after a few years' service turned out one of the best
seamen in the ship. After a certain period of time, when he was
returning to England from the West Indies, and it was supposed the
crew were to be paid off, he was suddenly raised to the rank of a
warrant officer, probably with a view of keeping him in the service.
On returning to his native town, however, he found his father at the
point of death; a point at which men are not fond of executing all
that they have threatened against their refractory children. The
consequence was, as might have been expected, a full share of the
worthy dealer's money came to his son Thomas; and, with a capital of a
few thousand pounds, he thought it would be much better to set up in
command of a ship of his own, than to continue any longer in the
king's service when there was no war going on. He therefore bought
shares in a large cutter, with the understanding that he was to
command her, and set out as a trader, in which capacity, to say the
truth, he was not particularly fortunate. He did not lose, indeed, but
his gains at the end of four or five years had only been sufficient to
enable him, in conjunction with the other shareholders, to abandon the
cutter, and buy a handsome, well-built schooner.
Just about the same time, however, a fresh war broke out. Longly
applied for letters of marque, mounted some handsome brass guns on the
deck of his schooner, with some heavy caronades for close quarter, and
set sail from the port with the determination of doing the enemy's
commerce as much harm as possible. This sort of trade he understood
much better than the other, and, consequently, he was far more
fortunate. Captain Long became known upon the whole coast of France
and England; and while the traders of Bourdeaux looked out with
considerable apprehension for fear of meeting Captain Long on the high
seas, the corsairs of St. Malo despatched some of their gallant
skimmers of the ocean to look out for him, with the vain hope of
bringing Captain Long into the French port. It is true, they caught
him; but they formed, in their hunt for Captain Long, a strong
resemblance to the old story in regard to catching a Tartar; for in
one instance he sunk his adversary with every soul on board, and in
another he brought his pursuer into the nearest English port.
He thus acquired a very comfortable little independence; but, at the
same time, acquired habits of a somewhat marauding nature, mixing up
in a strange compound the ideas of the merchant, and, with reverence
be it spoken, the ideas of the pirate.
Two things, however, occurred to sober him at about the age of fifty;
one was, a very severe fall, which left him stiff and less active for
the rest of his life, and the other was the death of his wife, whom he
loved as well as he could love anything, except his daughter. These
circumstances induced him to give up the sea; and having nothing
farther to care about or to provide for, he retired to the spot where
we have introduced him to the reader, built the house that we have
described, and gave himself up to rural life, with occasional little
indications of his former habits and propensities breaking out, of a
more serious kind indeed than his fondness for looking over the sea
with a telescope, or having his own boat upon the shore below. He was
very much loved and liked by all the neighbouring fishermen; and
though he was a great man in their estimation, and not a little one in
his own, yet he was too frank, and free, and open-hearted, to treat
his neighbours as anything but messmates.
Leaving him, then, to return to his own dwelling, we shall take leave
to walk into the little neat parlour thereof, and see who and what it
contained. It was nicely and tastefully fitted up, with two or three
detestably bad portraits of persons who might be Captain and Mrs.
Longly in their best clothes, or any other person on earth that the
spectator might choose to imagine; and besides these was a neat, small
pianoforte, with a number of books, pretty little jars for flowers,
various curiosities brought over by Longly himself from foreign
countries in which he had carried on his various occupations, together
with a number of minor objects, denoting taste and refinement.
The living beings whom Longly had left behind when he walked down with
old Will, were three in number, the first of which lay upon the
hearth-rug in the form of an immense tabby cat. The next that we shall
specify was a remarkably pretty girl of about eighteen years of age,
upon whose character, naturally wild, lively, and sportive, but
sincere, affectionate, and generous, a couple of years spent at a
boarding-school had grafted a certain degree of coquetry and
affectation which certainly did not improve her, but which spoiled her
less than might be imagined. This is very nearly enough of the
character of Hannah Longly. She was, as we have said, remarkably
pretty, full of grace and warm colouring, with dark eyes much larger
than her father's, and deep brown hair, slightly approaching to
auburn. She had in most things a natural good taste, and,
notwithstanding having been at school, was not in reality vulgar,
except inasmuch as the least approach to affectation of any kind is
vulgar in itself.
The third person in the room is one whom we may have quitted rather
too long, and who, on many accounts, deserved more particular and
constant attention; this was no other than Everard Morrison, the old
school companion of Charles Tyrrell. He was now sitting with Hannah
Longly, well dressed, improved in health, and by no means a
bad-looking young man, though still short, and apparently not very
robust. He was just out of his articles as a lawyer's clerk, and in
partnership with his father, and it was in his legal capacity that he
had made acquaintance with Captain Longly, who, about a year before,
had, by some unpleasant mistake, become embroiled with the officers of
his majesty's customs. So confident were those officers that Longly
had been engaged in some of the smuggling transactions which took
place so frequently in the good old times, when no such thing as a
coastguard was known, and which have somewhat decreased since its
adoption, that nothing would prevent them from proceeding against him
at law, and he was obliged to have recourse to Messrs. Morrison to do
the best they could in his defence. Young Morrison exerted himself
strenuously, and two or three times visited Captain Longly at his own
dwelling. His visits there seemed even to increase his zeal; and the
result was, that the captain was carried through triumphantly, vowing
that it was entirely young Morrison's doing, and that there was one
honest lawyer in the world.
Such a feeling naturally produced an inclination to see more of the
young lawyer, and for some reason young Morrison very frequently
availed himself of the old sailor's frank invitation, called upon him
in the morning, dined with him if he had time, and even on one or two
occasions slept in the house.
Hannah Longly was not sorry to have such a companion, and, to say the
truth, was not sorry to be made love to in a quiet way. Though she was
really a good girl, and neither fretted nor murmured, she did feel
that the place where her father had fixed his abode was very lonely,
and shut her off from any sort of society she could have enjoyed. She
did also feel that, unless by some miracle not to be expected, a young
man equal to herself in taste and feelings were suddenly brought and
dropped down like an aerolite in the neighbourhood, the only
alternative before her was living on in single blessedness, or
marrying the richest fisherman she could find. Some of the officers
who had known Longly at a former period came to see him from time to
time, it is true, and one old gentleman, a post-captain in the navy,
who had been lieutenant of Longly's first ship, fell desperately in
love with her at the age of sixty-five, and offered to marry her,
holding out the prospect of her becoming, at some future time, Mrs.
Admiral Jackson; but Hannah's ambition was not of that kind, and she
refused decidedly and at once. She had occasionally seen others, too,
at her father's house, with whom the ambition of the heart might have
been satisfied; but they either only strayed for a brief call at the
house of the well-known old sailor, or showed themselves merely
disposed to trifle with pretty Hannah Longly as an inferior. To this
she was not disposed to submit, feeling that the way by which a woman
should be won does not begin in insult, even though the shade be
light.
She was well pleased, then, upon all occasions, to see Everard
Morrison. She esteemed him highly, she liked him much, and he was
daily making progress in her regard; so that, at the time we speak of,
though he had not asked her and she had not consented, all things bade
fair to make her very soon the wife of a thriving young lawyer in a
country town.
The fact of Captain Longly having gone out to speak with old Will, as
he was called, left young Morrison a favourable opportunity for
telling his tale and exchanging vows with Hannah Longly, an
opportunity which few men would have let slip, especially when, from
the spot in which he was seated, he saw the old gentleman saunter away
with his companion towards the seacoast.
But Everard Morrison was a phenomenon in many respects. He was modest
notwithstanding his profession, and he could not make up his mind to
speak words which, though they might render Hannah Longly his wife,
might, at the same time, deprive him of the pleasure he enjoyed from
time to time in her society. He wished to speak, he longed to speak;
but yet he could not make up his mind to do it: perhaps Hannah herself
expected it; and certain it is that nothing which Everard said upon
any other subject was either very applicable or very agreeable.
The matter was becoming awkward, and young Morrison was upon the very
eve of putting an end to it by a bold effort of resolution, when her
father appeared again beyond the rails of the garden, and at the very
same moment a loud voice was heard shouting, "Ship, ahoy! hollah,
Captain Long! Captain Long! pigtail! Hie! bring-to, bring-to!"
Captain Longly immediately halted in his advance, and turned to see
who it was that thus hailed him; and Everard Morrison could see
through the window a young man come up, dressed in a sailor's jacket
and trousers, with a stick over his shoulder and a bundle on the hook
of the stick, and certainly not giving more indications of being a
gentleman by his dress than he had done by his salutation. But yet
there was something in his manner and carriage, in his personal
appearance altogether, we may say, which stamped upon him the mint
mark of a higher station than that which he assumed; and Everard was
not at all surprised when he heard Longly exclaim, "Why, master
lieutenant, is that you? Who would suppose it in such a rig as that.
Why, you look like a smart coxswain. Why, I haven't seen you, sir,
since you got your rank. I hope it has sobered you."
Let it be noted, that in all the speeches of Captain Long were
interspersed sundry expletives of a high flavour, which we have not
thought it fit to repeat, and shall leave to the imagination of our
readers.
"Ay, ay, captain," replied the lieutenant, "I have my own reasons for
what I am about. I have been sobered enough by one thing or another,
and what I want of you now is to know whether you will give me a bed
and a dinner for a day or two."
"That I will, that I will," replied Longly; "I'll give you that, and
more too, if you want it, for old acquaintance' sake; but come in, and
we'll see about it."
"I sha'n't tire you out by staying too long," answered the other, and
he followed Longly through the garden towards the house.
Everard Morrison was mortified and disappointed in every way. He was
vexed with himself for not having seized the opportunity of proposing
to Hannah which had been afforded to him. He was disappointed at
another person, and that person a stranger, being obtruded upon them,
and he was sufficiently in love to be apprehensive without a cause. He
was not one of those, however, who suffer the emotions of the heart to
appear very much on the countenance, and, therefore, remained calmly
till Longly brought in the stranger, whom the young lawyer examined
carefully from head to foot, concluding that, notwithstanding the
worst that envy could say to disparage him, he was a very handsome man
indeed, of about thirty years of age.
When all the little preliminaries had been settled, such as
introducing Hannah Longly and Lieutenant Hargrave to each other,
Everard Morrison put in his quiet word, saying, "I think, Mr. Longly,
I shall go and get my horse and go home, for it is growing late, and I
have some way to go, you know."
"Why, I thought you were going to stay all night, Master Everard,"
answered Longly. "Never mind the lieutenant; we've plenty of room;
we'll stow him away in the back room, where the hammock swings."
"Not to-night, Master Longly," replied Everard; "I must go home
to-night; but the day after to-morrow perhaps, I shall come and see
you again;" and shaking hands with Hannah, with a slight pressure as
he did so, just sufficient to make the colour mount a little higher in
her cheeks, he left the room with a good-night to Longly and a bow to
their new companion, somewhat stiff and stately indeed, and, finding
his horse, was soon after seen riding away.
"Who the devil is that?" demanded Lieutenant Hargrave. "He seems
mighty stately. Is that Sir Francis Tyrrell's son that I have heard so
much talk about?"
"Oh, bless ye, no!" replied Longly. "Why, compared with young Tyrrell,
that's but a sloop compared to a seventy-four. He's a wonderful nice
young fellow though, that Everard Morrison. If it hadn't been for him,
d--n me if I shouldn't have been in prison now, and, most likely, a
bankrupt. He is young Everard Morrison, the lawyer's son, at Winsby."
"A lawyer!" cried the young officer. "Oh, curse the young shark! I
wonder you let him into your doors. Don't look so angry, pretty Miss
Hannah. What! I suppose this lawyer's a lover of yours. Never mind
that, we'll make him walk a plank, and I'll console you."
"Come, come, no nonsense, Master Hargrave," rejoined Captain Long,
seeing his daughter both vexed and angry at the young sailor's
unceremonious familiarity. "That young Morrison is as fine a fellow as
ever stepped, and brave though he's modest. Didn't I see him outface a
dozen of the lawyers at least, and swear he would not have me wronged
if there was law in the land. D--n me if it wasn't like a single ship
fighting a whole fleet of the enemy. But he beat 'em all. And now, Mr.
Hargrave, let's see what we can do to make you comfortable. Have you
had any dinner?"
Lieutenant Hargrave acknowledged that he had had none; and anything
that Longly and his daughter chose to do to make him comfortable, he
took with the greatest coolness, without ever seeming to feel that he
might be giving trouble. All that could be obtained of any kind he
appeared very willing to receive; asked without ceremony, and made use
of without any great apparent thankfulness. In fact, there was a sort
of habitual selfishness sufficiently apparent in his whole demeanour
to have been remarked by probably any other person than Longly
himself, and which, for the first half hour or so, struck Hannah
Longly considerably.
When he had made himself as comfortable as he could be, Lieutenant
Hargrave thought that it might not be amiss to spend an hour or so in
flirting with his host's pretty daughter, and he applied himself with
diligence, and with success but too common in this life, to remove, by
attention and flattery, any unfavourable impression he had made at
first, and to rouse up a different feeling in its place. Although
Longly seemed to treat him with such little ceremony, and, to say the
truth, did look down upon him in various respects, inasmuch as he had
known him as a youngster of a wild, thoughtless disposition in
different scenes and times; had heard of his contracting large debts
here and large debts there, and paying nobody; and, moreover, knew
that, as a young man, he had committed a good many actions which had
delayed his promotion, and deprived him of the esteem of his superior
officers, yet Lieutenant Hargrave, by his rank in the service, by
being the son of a person in a superior station, and by the good
education which he had received and thrown away, conceived himself to
be sufficiently above Captain Long and his daughter to treat them with
perfect familiarity and ease.
When he found that Hannah however, was more inclined to give her
attention to him when he spoke in a higher and more gentlemanly tone
than that which he had assumed at first in order to make his
conversation suit his company, as he thought, he changed that tone
almost entirely, resumed the demeanour of a gentleman and a man of
cultivated mind, talked to her on matters where it gave her pleasure
to display her little store of knowledge, made her sing and play, and
declared that, although he had heard all the first performers that the
theatres of London, Paris, and Naples could produce, he had never
heard a voice so sweet, an ear so just, or a taste so exquisite. Poor
Hannah listened, and coloured, and believed, if not the whole, a
considerable part; and, before the hour for retiring to rest,
Lieutenant Hargrave was high in her good graces, and they were talking
sentiment in very rapid career.
Arthur Hargrave retired to his room and laughed. He was a good deal
struck, it is true, with Hannah Longly's beauty; but he had other
objects in view at the time, and only thought of her as of one whose
society might serve very pleasantly to pass the time that was not
otherwise occupied. There were worse thoughts, perhaps more evil
purposes, in his bosom; but they were at present vague, and to be
contingent upon the degree of weakness which he found in his
entertainer's child, though he smiled even now at the simple vanity
which had been so easily beguiled, and doubted not that, with a little
art, patience, and perseverance, that vanity and that simplicity might
be used to lead her to anything that he pleased.
Hannah Longly, on her part, retired to rest, first thinking a good
deal more than necessary of Arthur Hargrave; but with cooler
reflection came the thoughts of Everard Morrison, and she began to
feel sorry for what she had done, and more sorry for what she had
felt. If there had been anybody near to reproach her with her conduct,
she was just in the state of mind to pout and throw the blame upon
him, saying, "Stupid fellow, why didn't he propose when he had an
opportunity, then?" _But_ nobody said a word except her own heart; and
it went on reasoning the matter with her in so severe though calm a
manner, that she could not sleep for a long while.
Old Longly himself was differently affected. "He's a bad one," he
thought, as his mind turned to Arthur Hargrave; "he's a bad one, I've
a notion. At all events, he's running ahead somewhat too fast with our
Hannah. He sha'n't stay here long, I'll take care of that. However,
one can't well turn him out before a day or two are over. But I must
keep a good lookout ahead. That would never do. I'd rather she married
Jim Wilson, the fisherman; but she'll never think of him, I dare say,
though she seemed to haul her wind a little, too."
Early in the morning, as was his invariable custom, Longly was down in
his garden, not exactly working therein, but rather enjoying; for
there was not a little of the love for what is beautiful and graceful
in the old sailor's mind; and the fresh, sparkling light of morning
among the green shrubs and sweet flowers which his own hand had
planted, was one of his chief delights.
After looking at this plant, however, and that plant, for about half
an hour, he found himself insensibly approaching the garden gate, and
his habitual impulse carried him through it and along the walk to the
top of the cliff, He could not have sat down to his breakfast
comfortably without his morning look at the sea; and there might be
other feelings, too, a little concerned, with which we have nothing to
do at this moment, as the only indications thereof, in the walk he
took at present, were to be found in a slight deviation from the
well-worn path which he usually followed. As soon as he had come
within sight of the shore, then, he turned to the right for about two
hundred yards along the top of the cliff, and paused at a spot where a
projecting part of the crag formed a little nook or recess below, not
big enough, indeed, to deserve the name of a bay, and never reached by
the water but at times when spring tides were accompanied by high
southwesterly winds.
Above that spot he paused, and suffering the telescope, his almost
invariable companion, to drop by his side, gazed down upon a large
mass of stones and seaweed on the shore. He was suddenly startled,
however, by the sound of a footstep, and instantly the telescope went
up to his eye, and was pointed towards a small vessel out at sea.
"Well, captain," cried the voice of young Hargrave, "good-morning to
you. I could find no one in the house but the maid and the cook, and
so, after giving each of them a kiss for good luck, I came out for a
cruise; and so here you are."
"You had better mind where you cruise, though," muttered Captain
Longly, in a low and angry voice, the tones of which were too
indistinct for the other to hear; and seeing the old sailor still
looking through his glass, the lieutenant asked, "Can you make her
out?"
"The revenue cutter, I think," answered Longly; and, without more
words, he turned back to the house.
Captain Long was evidently surly from some cause; and after doing all
that he could during breakfast to make Hannah Longly in love with him,
Arthur Hargrave announced that he was going out for a long walk up
into the country on business, and would not be back till late.
Captain Long seemed not a little rejoiced to see him go, and even lent
him a couple of guineas, which the other asked, with perfect
confidence; but the old sailor added to his farewell a notice that he
closed his doors at ten o'clock at night, and opened them again for
nobody less than King George.