TRANSPORTATION
In the evening when I left the prison, it was with emotions strange and
bewildering. Jenny, who was to have received a free pardon, was sent, a
self-accused convict, to the plantations. To the plantations, where they
send the common rogues and villains. She was to go out on board a
convict ship, counted happy because although one of that shameful
company, she was not kept below all the voyage on convict fare with
those wretches vile and unspeakable.
And I was rich. After all these troubles: after my father's displeasure:
after my disinheritance: after my persecution and imprisonment: I was
rich----
And Matthew, the cause of all, was dead.
Truly the hand of the Lord had been heavy upon them all. Matthew dying
in starvation and misery. Mr. Probus, lying in prison, a pauper and
blind: Merridew stoned to death: the other two escaped with life, but
that was all. But the innocent were suffering with the guilty: the old
man Alderman languishing in a debtors' prison with no hope of release:
and Jenny a convict to be transported across the seas. They did well to
call it a voyage: a short exile in a pleasant climate: she was a
convict: she was under sentence.
And I was rich. So I kept saying to myself as I walked home that
evening. So I kept saying to Alice when I told her what had happened
while we sat till late at night talking over these acts of Providence.
We were to see her go far away across the ocean--a convict, never
perhaps to return: to see her go alone, save for her little maid: in
danger of wicked men of whom there are plenty over every part of the
world: perhaps, in spite of what was said, a servant even, at her
master's beck and call: the woman to whom I owed more than life: far
more than life: honour: and the respect of the world: and the happiness
of my children and grandchildren: yea, even unto the third and fourth
generation. What was wealth? Where was its happiness when we had to
think of Jenny? It was this woman, I say, who by her ready wit, her
generosity, her fearlessness in the presence of risks certain and
dangers inevitable, made my innocence as clear as the noonday's sun. For
this service shall her name be blessed among those who come after me and
bear my name and are stimulated to deeds of honour by the thought that
they come of an honourable stock. Think of the burden upon their lives
had they been doomed to remember that their father or their grandfather
before them had suffered a shameful death for highway robbery!
Jenny saved me--but at what a price! She braved the worst that the
rogues, her former friends, could do to her. She compelled her own
people: their own associates to betray them in order to prove my
innocence. She paid for the betrayal by prison, trial and ruin. She
poured out her money like water in order that no doubt whatever should
exist in the mind of the Court or the Jury as to the real character of
the witnesses. In return she endured the foul air and the foul
companionship of Newgate and a shameful transportation to Virginia,
there to be set up, if her sentence was carried out, and sold as
a slave for five years. It was no common gratitude--we repeated over
and over again--that we owed her for this service. We owed her
all--all--all--that we possessed or ever could possess.
But money cannot effect everything: it could not, in this case, give
Jenny the full pardon and the immediate release we desired.
In the dead of night, as I lay sleepless, tortured in my mind because I
could think of nothing that we could do for Jenny, who had done so much
for us, Alice spoke to me, sitting up in bed.
'Husband,' she said, and then she fell to weeping for a while and it
seemed as if she could not stop her crying and sobbing--but they were
tears of prayer and praise. 'Let us talk. It is yet night. The world
sleeps; but the Lord is awake. Let us talk.'
So we talked.
'I am heavy in my mind about that poor creature,' she began.
'And I no less, my dear.'
'We must not think that the innocent are punished with the guilty. That
old man the Alderman is pulled down by his son: they lie in ruin
together: but he is innocent: for this reason he has been permitted to
lose his wits and now feels nothing. Jenny suffers because though she is
innocent in intention, she is guilty in fact. Will, if I think of that
poor creature, so good and generous and so self-denying: and of the
company among whom she has lived: and of the people among whom she was
born: and how she has no religion, not the least sense of religion, I
think that this new business may be but the leading of the poor
trembling soul to knowledge.'
'She is assured that before long she will be permitted to return.'
'Perhaps she will not be permitted to return. There is One who is higher
than kings.'
'What would you do, Alice?'
'Let us ask ourselves, Will, what we are to do with our new riches. I am
but a homely body, I cannot become a fine lady. As for yourself,
remember, my dear, that you have been a musician, playing for your
livelihood at the Dog and Duck: and you have stood your trial at the Old
Bailey: and you have been in a Debtors' Prison: and your father's House
is bankrupt: and your name is held in contempt where formerly it was in
honour. Where will you seek your new friends? In the country? But the
Quality despise a musician. In the City? They despise a musician much:
prisoner for debt, more: a bankrupt, most.'
'I know not what is in your mind, Alice.'
'I am coming to it, my dear. Remember, once more, what you said to-night
that we owe her all--all--all. Your life: your honour: your son's pride
in his father: my life, for the agony and the shame would have killed
me. Oh! Will, what can we do for her? What can we give her in return for
benefits and services such as these?'
'I will give her all I have, my dear, my whole fortune, this new great
fortune. I will give her everything but you, my dear, and the boy.'
'Money she does not want and it will not help her in this strait.'
'What then can we do? We have gratitude--it is hers. And our fortune, it
is hers if she will take it.'
'Oh! Will, be patient with me, dear. We can give her indeed, all that we
have: we can give her'--she bent over me and kissed me, and her tears
fell upon my forehead--'we can give her, Will--ourselves.'
'What?'
'We can give her--ourselves. The whole of our lives. We can become her
servants in grateful thanks for all that she has done for us.'
'But how, Alice, how?'
'Consider: she is going out to a new country--alone. We know not into
what company she may fall. It is a rough country not yet fully settled I
am told: there are fierce Indians and cruel snakes and wild
beasts--though I fear the men worse than the beasts. Who will protect
her? She is beautiful and men are sometimes driven mad by beauty in
women.'
I began to understand.
'Let us go away with her to this new country, where she shall be the
mistress and we will be the servants. They say it is a beautiful
country, with fine sunshine and fruits in plenty. Let us go with her,
Will, and protect her from dangers and teach her to forget the thieves'
kitchen and make her happy among the flowers and the woods. We will turn
her captivity into a holiday: we will think of nothing in the world but
to make her happy. I have told you. Will, what is in my mind. And, my
dear, I verily believe the Lord Himself has put it there.'
I reflected for a little. Then I kissed her. 'I am content, my dear,' I
said. 'As you desire, so shall it be. We will go with Jenny and become
her servants as long as the duty shall be laid upon us.'
And so we fell asleep. And in the morning this thing seemed a dream. But
it was no dream. Then we had to begin our preparations. It would be
close on three weeks, we learned, before the ship, the _Pride of
Ratcliffe_, would be ready to drop down the river. I went on board and
saw the Captain. He told us that Lord Brockenhurst had already engaged
the best cabin for Madame, that although one of the convicts she was to
be treated differently: to be separated from the rest: not to mix with
them: wherein, he said grimly, 'she is lucky indeed.' With her and in
her cabin was to go another convict, a young girl. They were to mess in
the Captain's cabin. 'See,' he said, 'what it is to be a friend of a
noble Lord.' I told him that the lady was a cousin of my own, which
disconcerted him. However, without many more words, we came to an
understanding. I was to have a cabin for so much. And the Captain
undertook to lay in provisions for us. He was kind enough to draw up a
list of the things we should require: it appeared necessary for a
passenger to America to buy up half the beeves and sheep of Smithfield,
together with all the turkey, geese and poultry, of Leadenhall, not to
speak of wine and rum, enough for the whole crew. He said that in bad
weather so much of the live-stock was destroyed that it was necessary to
provide against these accidents. So he prevailed, and I think I kept the
whole ship's company with my stores.
The ship was of 350 tons burden, a stout, well-built ship, with three
masts, not unlike one of my father's West Indiamen, but inferior in
tonnage: she was slow, it afterwards appeared, generally doing from
four knots an hour, or about a hundred knots a day at such times as
there was a favourable wind. If the wind was unfavourable, as generally
happened, her speed was much less. As for the length of the voyage, the
Captain reckoned that taking one voyage with another, she would get
across in six or eight weeks: the uncertainty of the time, as he pointed
out, as well as the possibility of storms, called for the apparently
vast quantity of provisions which he was laying in for our party.
And now began a busy time. First I communicated our design to Mr.
Dewberry, the attorney, who entirely approved of it. Next I arranged
with him for the safe investment of my new fortune as to which there was
no difficulty at all as soon as the death of Matthew had been duly
proved and attested. The amount which was originally £100,000 had now by
the accumulation of the interest become over £120,000, which, at five
per cent., produced the enormous income of £6,000 a year--more than a
hundred pounds a week. What would we do with a hundred pounds a week?
Mr. Dewberry laughed. 'I have never yet,' he said, 'found a rich man
complaining of too much wealth. For the most part he complains of
poverty. In a word, Mr. Halliday, your wealth will before many months
cease to be a burden to you. But remember, great as is this income, even
in the wealthy City of London, and enormous as it will be in the distant
land of Virginia, there are limits to the power even of such an income.
Keep within it: keep within it.'
It matters not how we made this money safe--that is, as safe as money
can be made. There are stocks and shares in the National Debt. Some of
these were obtained: and there were houses in the City which were
bought: in a few days my excellent attorney put my affairs in such order
that I was enabled to leave England without fear, and to be provided,
moreover, with letters of credit by which I could draw for such money as
might be necessary from time to time. By this time our plans, much
talked about, were matured. We would purchase an estate, as a
plantation: in Virginia every estate is a plantation: it would be
probably a tobacco-growing estate with its servants and slaves and
buildings complete. Thither we would all go together and take up our
abode. Letters were provided which I could present to responsible and
honest merchants at Baltimore, by whose assistance I hoped to get what
we desired, and we resolved, further, to tell Jenny nothing of these
plans until we were all on board together.
The next thing was to find out what we should take out from the old
country to the new. It was reported that already they made nearly
everything that was wanted: such as furniture and things made out of the
woods of the country, which are various and excellent. The things most
in demand were reported to be knives, tools, and ironmongery of all
kinds: guns and weapons: clothes of the better kind, especially dresses
for gentlewomen in silk and satin and embroidered work. Books, music,
and musical instruments were also scarce. I laid in a great stock of all
these things: they were packed in large chests bound in iron and sent on
board as they were bought.
In getting these purchases and in procuring this information the days
passed quickly, because it was necessary as well that I should visit
Jenny every day. A happy bustling time. After all the trouble of the
past it was pleasant to think of a new world opening before us with new
hopes of happiness. These hopes were realized. I do not say that people
are better in the New World than in the Old; everywhere are men
self-seeking and grasping: but there is less suffering, less poverty,
and, I believe, none of such infernal wickedness as may be devised at
home by men like Probus and Merridew. Such monstrous growths are not
found in a new country where the population is thin, and there is no
place for villains to hide their heads. The worst trouble in Virginia,
in those days, was with the convicts, concerning whom I shall speak
immediately.
While these preparations were going on, Jenny waited in Newgate somewhat
sadly. Lord Brockenhurst came to visit her daily: she had the girl whom
she had saved for a maid: the lad Jack came every day to fetch and carry
and do her bidding. I said nothing to this fellow of our purpose. One
day, however, while he waited in the corridor outside the cell, I called
him in and spoke to him seriously. 'Jack,' I said, ''tis known to thee
that Madame sails for America in a week or so?'
'Ay, Sir,' and his face dropped.
'What will you do, Jack? There is the old company of the kitchen at the
Black Jack: if that is broken up they have gone to the Spotted Dog.'
'No, Sir,' he said stoutly, 'I will be a rogue no more. I have promised
Madame.'
'Then there is the village. You could go home again, Jack.'
'They will not have me.'
'Then, Jack, what will you do?'
He held his hat in his hands, and then with tears rolling down his
cheeks he fell on his knees to Jenny. 'Take me with you, Madame,' he
said. 'I will be your faithful servant to command. Only take me with
you.'
'Alas, Jack! who am I that I should have a servant with me who shall be
but a servant myself. Poor lad, I cannot take thee.'
'By your leave, Jenny,' I said. 'There will be a little maid to wait
upon you and you will want Jack to protect both you and her. If you
consent to take him, he shall go.'
'But, Will, you know the conditions. I shall not be mistress even of
myself.'
'That is provided. Did not Lord Brockenhurst promise?'
'Lord Brockenhurst will do what he can. Of that I have no doubt. But as
to his power across the Atlantic, of that I have grave doubts.'
'Jenny,' I took her hand. 'Do you trust my word? Could I deceive you?
Could I ever hold out hopes unless I knew that they were well grounded?'
'Why, Will, whom should I trust if not you?'
'Then, Jenny, listen and believe. It is so arranged and provided that on
landing in America you will be provided with a house fit for your
station and with everything, so long as you may stay in the country,
that a gentlewoman can require. And all that you have or enjoy will be
yours--your own--and over all you shall be mistress.'
'Dear Will--this providing is your providing.'
'A manservant you must have to begin with. Negroes there are in plenty,
but an English manservant--an honest'--here I looked Jack in the face;
he reddened and was confused--'an honest, strong, capable, faithful
servant, that you want, Jenny; and that you must have, and here he is.'
I clapped the fellow on the shoulder as he still knelt before his
mistress.
'Get up, Jack,' she said. 'Since it must be so, it must. But you must
thank Mr. Halliday and not me.'
It was not a servant that she took out with her but a slave, one of
those willing slaves to whom their slavery is freedom, who have no
thoughts or desires of their own; none but the thought how best to
please their Lords or Ladies. Such servants are rare, except those who
have served in the army, where duty is taught to be the first virtue.
'At least,' said Jenny, 'I shall not be put ashore alone or among the
gang of poor creatures with whom I ought to stand as a companion.' And
indeed the prospect of this strong fellow to protect her at the outset
caused her, I was pleased to find, no slight consolation. Yet I dared
not tell her till it was too late to be altered, the resolution which we
had formed to go with her as well.
Despite the injurious treatment of my two cousins, I took it greatly to
heart that the unfortunate Alderman should, for no fault of his own, be
condemned to imprisonment for the short remainder of his days. He was
past understanding where he was. In imagination he rolled in his chariot
from Clapham Common to the Wharf and Counting House: he received the
Captains of the West Indiamen: he appeared on Change: he dined with his
Company: he sat on the Bench: he walked in his garden: he cut
pine-apples and grapes in his hothouses. He was quite happy. But there
was the shame of knowing that he was there and that he was supported by
the charity of his old friends.
Accordingly I sought Mr. Dewberry's advice and help. There was now but
little time to be lost, a matter which made things easier, because, Mr.
Dewberry said, so long as there was any chance of getting more by
putting off the matter it would be put off. In a word, he called
together the creditors. They were fortunately a small body: all those
who had claims in respect to Jenny's liabilities were cut off by
Matthew's death. The debt of Mr. Probus was also removed by his death
because it was an account of monies borrowed by Matthew privately. There
remained the debts of the House, and these were due to merchants and to
banks. The creditors met, therefore, and I attended. Mr. Dewberry
pointed out that my desire was the release of my uncle: that the
creditors had no claim upon me: that anything I might offer with the
view of attaining that object was a free and voluntary gift: that if the
creditors refused this gift they would never get anything at all: and
finally that they should consider that the poor man now in prison had
not been a party to any of the transactions which led to the ruin of
the House.
They asked half an hour to consider. At the end of that time, they
offered to accept in full discharge of all claims, two shillings in the
pound. I was advised to accept this offer. It took nearly £20,000 out of
my fortune; in fact, all the accumulations. But I had the satisfaction
before I left of releasing my uncle from his chamber in the loathed
King's Bench.
I knew how I should be received by my cousins: but words break no bones.
Besides, I wished to release him, so to speak, with my own hands.
'You are come again then,' said my elder cousin, who for some reason
unknown, was much the more bitter of the two. There is your handiwork.
Gaze upon it,' she pointed to her father, 'and exult! Exult!'
'On the whole,' I said, 'I can, this day at least, exult in my work.'
'It is your doing. None but yours. If you had signed what he wished this
misery would have been saved. And you would have had quite as much as
one in your beggarly trade could desire.'
'Thank you, cousin. You are always kind to me.'
'You are my brother's murderer. You have ruined my father,' she added.
'I am anything you wish. Indeed, I have no reply to make to such charges
as these. Meantime I have come here to-day in order to release your
father. Down below waits the attorney with his discharge in due form. He
is free. You can take him out of the Prison.'
'Out of prison?'
They both stared at me. Their eyes flashed: the sudden joy of liberty
seized them: they sprang to their feet.
'Free? He is free?' cried the younger. 'Father, you are free--do you
hear?'
'Free?' he replied. I have been free of the City for six-and-thirty
years.'
'Free!' echoed the elder. 'What is the good of freedom without the means
of getting a living? Free? Let us stay here, where at least we have a
guinea a week.'
'Your livelihood is provided for. You will receive during your three
lives the sum of three guineas paid weekly.'
'Three guineas?' The younger caught my hand, 'Cousin Will! Oh! It is
our living. It is everything to us poor paupers. Will, I doubt we have
misjudged you.'
Her sister snatched her hand away. 'Don't touch him!' she cried. 'Don't
speak to him! Three guineas a week! The miserable pittance! and he has
thousands--thousands--thousands a year'--her voice rose to a
shriek--'which ought to have been our murdered brother's and our own!'
One must never look for gratitude or even for reasonable recognition: or
for the courtesy of thanks: but these words were really more shrewish
and more bitter than one can endure. However, I made no reply and left
them, pleased at least that one of them could be moved to confessing her
prejudice. I know not what became of them, nor have I ever heard tidings
of them since that day.
One more addition was made to our party.
My brother-in-law, Tom Shirley, came to me one morning with a serious
face--serious at least, for him. 'Will,' he said, 'I have been thinking
about my own concerns, that is, my wife has been thinking about them for
me. It is a great advantage for a man to give over that part of his
business to his wife.'
'Well, Tom?'
'She says, if I remember right, because she has been saying a good deal,
that so long as I am content to play first fiddle at the Dog and Duck
for thirty shillings a week it matters not, as we shall never get on,
and shall have to live in the Rules all our life. Well, Will, I would as
lief live in the Rules as out of them. There is very good company in the
Rules, almost as good as in the King's Bench itself.'
'She is not content that you should always play the fiddle at that
place, and you are. Is that so?'
'For the patronage of aristocracy and the esteem of an audience of taste
there is no equal to the Dog and Duck,' he replied gravely, as if he
meant what he said of the dirty disreputable haunt of 'prentices and
their kind. 'But I confess, Will, that there are times when I consider
my musical compositions and when I long for a wider popularity. I think
that I should like an opportunity to get my name better known. At the
Dog and Duck the noble audience doth not ask the name of the composer.'
'You would leave the Rules if you could, and go live at Westminster,
where there are concerts and rich patrons? Well, Tom, we are now rich.
We might manage that for you I believe.'
He shook his head. 'No. Best not waste good money. I should only get
back here again in a month or two. My dear Will, if you only knew how
difficult it is to refuse when things are offered on credit. Now, in the
Rules no one has any credit, so that we save all our money.'
I never heard of Tom's saving any money. However, I asked him what he
would have.
He would go with me. But did they want music in Virginia?
'Perhaps not now. Wait, however, till they have heard and seen me. I
believe there is no musical composer, yet, in the Province. I will be
the first Virginian musician. I will be the Handel of Virginia.'
'Well, Tom, why not?' The knowledge of my great income made me yielding.
Was there not enough for a dozen Toms? 'I dare say we could pay out your
detaining creditors with no great difficulty.'
'Not for the world, my dear brother-in-law. Even from you I could not
accept such a favour. Pay me out? Why, it would be no favour: it would
be a crime. Do you know that my only detaining creditor is an attorney?
Pay an attorney? Never. Remember Probus. Surely you have had enough of
attorneys.'
'Indeed I am not likely to forget Probus as long as I live. But then, if
you are not paid out, Tom, how will you get out?'
'I shall walk out, Mr. William Halliday. If you let us go out with you I
shall send the wife on board with Alice and I shall then walk out with
my violin in one hand and a bundle of music in the other on the evening
before the ship sails. I shall go on board. When my creditor finds out
that I have taken my departure, which may take weeks--or it may take
months--that honest attorney will be pained no doubt, for he is of a
revengeful spirit. He will then do exactly what he pleases. But I
believe he will not venture out to Virginia. If he should dare that
attempt I will give him to friendly Indians in order to be--carbonadoed,
as I believe you Americans call it. That attorney, Will, shall be
carbonadoed over a slow fire.'
Tom, then, was to come with us. So with Jenny, her maid, and her man:
Tom Shirley and his wife: Alice, the boy and myself we should make up
as pleasant a family party as ever sailed across the Atlantic.
The time approached when we were to go on board. The ship was to drop
down with the ebb on Saturday morning at nine with the turn of the tide.
Everything was on board; on the forecastle on deck my live stock was
gathered: sheep, pigs, turkeys (all of which died in the Channel) geese
and poultry: our furniture, books and music were stowed away in the
hold: our wine and liquors were laid in bunks around the cabin: the
Captain and the mate were to take meals with us: they were also so
obliging as to drink up our rum and our wine. We had no leavetakings: on
Friday afternoon Alice and her sister-in-law went on board. Tom joined
them after sundown. At eight o'clock or thereabouts I was to bring Jenny
and her party on board. Lord Brockenhurst had expressed his desire to
say farewell to her on the quarterdeck.
A little after seven I repaired to the Gaol. At the gates I saw waiting
three large waggons which the people were filling with boxes and bundles
tied up in sacking and canvas. I thought nothing of these waggons at the
moment: they did not concern me, and I entered the Lodge. There was
waiting for me Jenny herself, dressed in splendour as if for a wedding.
Surely no prisoner sentenced to transportation ever went on board ship
in such a guise. She was taking an affectionate leave of the Governor,
who was moved almost to tears by her departure.
'Indeed, Sir,' she said, 'I am grieved to have put you to so much
trouble.' So she shook hands, smiling sweetly: then she turned to the
turnkeys. 'I am also very much in your debt, my friends,' and walked
along the whole line distributing guineas. 'God bless your Ladyship!'
they uttered fervently. 'We shall never see the likes of your Ladyship
here again.'
Indeed I am sure that they never will.
She mounted the steps of the coach which waited outside, she was
followed by the girl, by myself, and by the lad called Jack.
'I am glad,' she said, 'that this child goes out with me to Virginia.'
The child--she looked little more--took Jenny's hand and kissed it. 'She
is an affectionate little fool,' said Jenny, 'and loves me much. And to
think what they were going to do with her! Oh! Fools! Fools!' she
cried. 'Oh! monstrous Fools!'
We were now rolling slowly along Ludgate Hill. There was a rumbling
after us which continued. I looked out. They were the three waggons I
had observed at the Gate.
'What are those waggons?' I asked.
'They contain my baggage. Did you think I was going abroad with
nothing?'
'But in those waggons you must have the whole wardrobe of Drury Lane.'
She laughed. 'Will, you understand nothing. Did I not tell you that I
would have all those turnkeys at my feet in a day or two? Well, I
succeeded.'
'But what has that got to do with your baggage?'
'Why, you see, the officers that went to search my house for stolen
property began with the garrets. And there they stopped. Now when my
mother agreed to give evidence it was on conditions as I told you. I
gave her money for compensation and I bought the whole of her stock of
stolen property. It had been stored in the stone vaults under the Black
Jack. They carried it over to the cellars of my house, and when there
was no room left there, they used the garrets.'
'Oh! They took the garrets first.'
'Where there was very little to see. Now you understand why there was
such a paltry show. Could a woman in my position brave such a fate for
things so miserable?'
'Jenny! Jenny! You are wonderful.'
'No, Will, only I have my wits about me.'
'You have actually converted Newgate--Newgate Prison--into a Receiving
House for stolen property.'
'Five guineas apiece for the turnkeys was what it cost. I thought it the
safest and the simplest plan, Will.'
'Safest and simplest!'
Before I recovered the surprise of this information we reached the
stairs. On the Quarter deck was Alice with the boy.
'You dear good woman,' Jenny cried. 'You are come to see the last of the
transported convict: the end of the Orange Girl!'
Yet beside my wife in her homely dress, Jenny looked like a Countess.
Alice kissed her. 'We are not going to leave you, Jenny. We are going
with you, your servants as long as we live.'