I had not called upon old Waghorn, the uncle of Jane; as I was fearful
that he might recognise the pretended agent of former days with the now
captain of the Circe. The blind are very acute in all their other
senses,--a species of reparation made by nature by way of
indemnification for the severe loss which they have sustained.
As I grew older I grew wiser, and I could not help remarking, that the
acts of deceit, which as a midshipman I thought not only very
justifiable, but good fun, were invariably attended with unpleasant
results. Even in this trifle my heart misgave me, whether on my
appearance at the wedding I might not I be recognised, and be the cause
of creating a breach, by raising suspicions on the part of the blind man
which might prevent the wedding; and I had stated my fears to Bob Cross.
"Well, Captain Keene, it was all done with good intentions, and I do
not think that there is much fear. It's a long while back, and you were
not so much of a man as you are now. They do say, that cheating never
thrives, and I believe that it seldom does in the long run. Jane will
be much disappointed if you do not come."
"There is no help for it, Bob; I must disguise my voice; I must cheat a
little now to hide the first cheat. That's always the case in this
world."
"I don't call it cheating, sir; my ideas are, that if you cheat to get
advantage for yourself, then you do cheat; but when you do so to help
another, there's no great cheating in the case."
"I cannot agree with you, Bob; but let us say no more about it. I will
be with you at ten o'clock, which you say is the hour that you go to
church."
This conversation took place on the morning of the wedding. About eight
o'clock, I dressed and breakfasted, and then took a wherry over to
Gosport, and in half an hour was at the house, which was full of people
with white favours, and in such a bustle, that it reminded me of a hive
of bees just previous to a swarm.
"Here's the captain come, sir," said Bob, who had received me; for the
bride was still in her room with her mother.
"Happy to see you, sir; I wish you joy, Mr Waghorn," replied I, taking
his hand.
"You're Captain Keene, then, whose letters to the Admiralty Jane has so
often read to me in the newspapers. Where have we met? I've heard that
voice before."
"Indeed sir," replied I, rather confused.
"Yes, I have; I always know a voice again; let me see--why, captain, you
were here with Cross, the first time I ever heard him--you were an
agent, and now you're a captain," continued the old man, looking very
grave.
"Hush, sir," replied I: "pray don't speak so loud. Do you recollect
what I came about? Do you suppose that when I was a party to the escape
of a prisoner I could let you know, being a perfect stranger, that I was
an officer in his Majesty's service?"
"Very true," replied the old man, "I cannot blame you for that. But was
Cross an officer in the service at that time?"
"No, sir, he was not," replied I; "he was appointed boatswain to my ship
by the admiral in the West Indies."
"I'm glad to hear that. I thought Cross might have deceived me also;
every one tries to cheat a blind man--and the blind are suspicious. I'm
glad that Cross did not deceive me, or I would have seen my niece in her
coffin before--but say no more about it, you could not do otherwise;
all's right, sir, and I'm very glad to see you, and to have the honour
of your company. Sit down, sir, I beg. By the bye, Captain Keene, have
you heard of the girl since?"
"My dear sir," replied I, glad to give him my confidence, "there are no
secrets between us now; it was no girl, but the son of the captain of
the Dutch frigate, and an officer, whose escape you assisted in."
"I don't wonder, then, at your not making yourself known," replied the
old man. "Why, if I had known it had been an officer, I never would
have had a hand in the job--but a poor girl, it was mere charity to
assist her, and I thought I was acting the part of a Christian, poor
blind sinner that I am."
"You did a kind act, sir, and Heaven will reward you."
"We are sad, wicked creatures, Captain Keene," replied he. "I wish this
day was over, and my poor Jane made happy; and then I should have
nothing to do but to read my Bible, and prepare for being called away;
it's never too soon, depend upon it, sir."
The appearance of the bride with her bridesmaids put an end to our
conversation, which I was not sorry for. The order of march was
arranged, and we started off for the church on foot, making a very long
and very gay procession. In half an hour it was all over, and we
returned. I then had an opportunity of telling Cross what had passed
between me and old Waghorn.
"It was touch and go, sir, that's sartin," replied Bob; "for if the old
gentleman had not been satisfied, he is so obstinate that the match
would have been broken off at the church door. Well, sir, I always said
that you were the best to get out of a scrape that I ever knew when you
were a middy, and you don't appear to have lost the talent; it was well
managed."
"Perhaps so, Bob; but in future I do not intend to get into them, which
will be managing better still." I then left Cross, and went to talk to
Jane, who certainly looked very handsome. The tables for dinner were
laid out in the garden, for it was a beautiful warm autumnal day. We
sat down about twenty, and a merrier party I never was at. Old Waghorn
was the only one who got tipsy on the occasion, and it was very
ridiculous to hear him quoting scraps of Scripture in extenuation, and
then calling himself a poor blind old sinner. It was not till eight
o'clock in the evening that the party broke up, and I had then some
difficulty to persuade some to go away. As for the old man, he had been
put to bed an hour before. I staid a few minutes after all were gone,
and then, kissing Jane, and shaking hands with Bob, I went back to
Portsmouth.