REDBURN INTRODUCES MASTER HARRY BOLTON TO THE FAVORABLE CONSIDERATION
OF THE READER
It was the day following my Sunday stroll into the country, and when I
had been in England four weeks or more, that I made the acquaintance of
a handsome, accomplished, but unfortunate youth, young Harry Bolton. He
was one of those small, but perfectly formed beings, with curling hair,
and silken muscles, who seem to have been born in cocoons. His
complexion was a mantling brunette, feminine as a girl’s; his feet were
small; his hands were white; and his eyes were large, black, and
womanly; and, poetry aside, his voice was as the sound of a harp.
But where, among the tarry docks, and smoky sailor-lanes and by-ways of
a seaport, did I, a battered Yankee boy, encounter this courtly youth?
Several evenings I had noticed him in our street of boarding-houses,
standing in the doorways, and silently regarding the animated scenes
without. His beauty, dress, and manner struck me as so out of place in
such a street, that I could not possibly divine what had transplanted
this delicate exotic from the conservatories of some Regent-street to
the untidy potato-patches of Liverpool.
At last I suddenly encountered him at the sign of the Baltimore
Clipper. He was speaking to one of my shipmates concerning America; and
from something that dropped, I was led to imagine that he contemplated
a voyage to my country. Charmed with his appearance, and all eagerness
to enjoy the society of this incontrovertible son of a gentleman—a kind
of pleasure so long debarred me—I smoothed down the skirts of my
jacket, and at once accosted him; declaring who I was, and that nothing
would afford me greater delight than to be of the least service, in
imparting any information concerning America that he needed.
He glanced from my face to my jacket, and from my jacket to my face,
and at length, with a pleased but somewhat puzzled expression, begged
me to accompany him on a walk.
We rambled about St. George’s Pier until nearly midnight; but before we
parted, with uncommon frankness, he told me many strange things
respecting his history.
According to his own account, Harry Bolton was a native of Bury St.
Edmunds, a borough of Suffolk, not very far from London, where he was
early left an orphan, under the charge of an only aunt. Between his
aunt and himself, his mother had divided her fortune; and young Harry
thus fell heir to a portion of about five thousand pounds.
Being of a roving mind, as he approached his majority he grew restless
of the retirement of a country place; especially as he had no
profession or business of any kind to engage his attention.
In vain did Bury, with all its fine old monastic attractions, lure him
to abide on the beautiful banks of her Larke, and under the shadow of
her stately and storied old Saxon tower.
By all my rare old historic associations, breathed Bury; by my
Abbey-gate, that bears to this day the arms of Edward the Confessor; by
my carved roof of the old church of St. Mary’s, which escaped the low
rage of the bigoted Puritans; by the royal ashes of Mary Tudor, that
sleep in my midst; by my Norman ruins, and by all the old abbots of
Bury, do not, oh Harry! abandon me. Where will you find shadier walks
than under my lime-trees? where lovelier gardens than those within the
old walls of my monastery, approached through my lordly Gate? Or if, oh
Harry! indifferent to my historic mosses, and caring not for my annual
verdure, thou must needs be lured by other tassels, and wouldst fain,
like the Prodigal, squander thy patrimony, then, go not away from old
Bury to do it. For here, on Angel-Hill, are my coffee and card-rooms,
and billiard saloons, where you may lounge away your mornings, and
empty your glass and your purse as you list.
In vain. Bury was no place for the adventurous Harry, who must needs
hie to London, where in one winter, in the company of gambling
sportsmen and dandies, he lost his last sovereign.
What now was to be done? His friends made interest for him in the
requisite quarters, and Harry was soon embarked for Bombay, as a
midshipman in the East India service; in which office he was known as a
_“guinea-pig,”_ a humorous appellation then bestowed upon the middies
of the Company. And considering the perversity of his behavior, his
delicate form, and soft complexion, and that gold guineas had been his
bane, this appellation was not altogether, in poor Harry’s case,
inapplicable.
He made one voyage, and returned; another, and returned; and then threw
up his warrant in disgust. A few weeks’ dissipation in London, and
again his purse was almost drained; when, like many prodigals, scorning
to return home to his aunt, and amend—though she had often written him
the kindest of letters to that effect—Harry resolved to precipitate
himself upon the New World, and there carve out a fresh fortune. With
this object in view, he packed his trunks, and took the first train for
Liverpool. Arrived in that town, he at once betook himself to the
docks, to examine the American shipping, when a new crotchet entered
his brain, born of his old sea reminiscences. It was to assume duck
browsers and tarpaulin, and gallantly cross the Atlantic as a sailor.
There was a dash of romance in it; a taking abandonment; and scorn of
fine coats, which exactly harmonized with his reckless contempt, at the
time, for all past conventionalities.
Thus determined, he exchanged his trunk for a mahogany chest; sold some
of his superfluities; and moved his quarters to the sign of the Gold
Anchor in Union-street.
After making his acquaintance, and learning his intentions, I was all
anxiety that Harry should accompany me home in the Highlander, a desire
to which he warmly responded.
Nor was I without strong hopes that he would succeed in an application
to the captain; inasmuch as during our stay in the docks, three of our
crew had left us, and their places would remain unsupplied till just
upon the eve of our departure.
And here, it may as well be related, that owing to the heavy charges to
which the American ships long staying in Liverpool are subjected, from
the obligation to continue the wages of their seamen, when they have
little or no work to employ them, and from the necessity of boarding
them ashore, like lords, at their leisure, captains interested in the
ownership of their vessels, are not at all indisposed to let their
sailors abscond, if they please, and thus forfeit their money; for they
well know that, when wanted, a new crew is easily to be procured,
through the crimps of the port.
Though he spake English with fluency, and from his long service in the
vessels of New York, was almost an American to behold, yet Captain Riga
was in fact a Russian by birth, though this was a fact that he strove
to conceal. And though extravagant in his personal expenses, and even
indulging in luxurious habits, costly as Oriental dissipation, yet
Captain Riga was a niggard to others; as, indeed, was evinced in the
magnificent stipend of three dollars, with which he requited my own
valuable services. Therefore, as it was agreed between Harry and me,
that he should offer to ship as a _“boy,”_ at the same rate of
compensation with myself, I made no doubt that, incited by the
cheapness of the bargain, Captain Riga would gladly close with him; and
thus, instead of paying sixteen dollars a month to a thorough-going
tar, who would consume all his rations, buy up my young blade of Bury,
at the rate of half a dollar a week; with the cheering prospect, that
by the end of the voyage, his fastidious palate would be the means of
leaving a handsome balance of salt beef and pork in the _harness-cask._
With part of the money obtained by the sale of a few of his velvet
vests, Harry, by my advice, now rigged himself in a Guernsey frock and
man-of-war browsers; and thus equipped, he made his appearance, one
fine morning, on the quarterdeck of the Highlander, gallantly doffing
his virgin tarpaulin before the redoubtable Riga.
No sooner were his wishes made known, than I perceived in the captain’s
face that same bland, benevolent, and bewitchingly merry expression,
that had so charmed, but deceived me, when, with Mr. Jones, I had first
accosted him in the cabin.
Alas, Harry! thought I,—as I stood upon the forecastle looking astern
where they stood,—that _“gallant, gay deceiver”_ shall not altogether
cajole you, if Wellingborough can help it. Rather than that should be
the case, indeed, I would forfeit the pleasure of your society across
the Atlantic.
At this interesting interview the captain expressed a sympathetic
concern touching the sad necessities, which he took upon himself to
presume must have driven Harry to sea; he confessed to a warm interest
in his future welfare; and did not hesitate to declare that, in going
to America, under such circumstances, to seek his fortune, he was
acting a manly and spirited part; and that the voyage thither, as a
sailor, would be an invigorating preparative to the landing upon a
shore, where he must battle out his fortune with Fate.
He engaged him at once; but was sorry to say, that he could not provide
him a home on board till the day previous to the sailing of the ship;
and during the interval, he could not honor any drafts upon the
strength of his wages.
However, glad enough to conclude the agreement upon any terms at all,
my young blade of Bury expressed his satisfaction; and full of
admiration at so urbane and gentlemanly a sea-captain, he came forward
to receive my congratulations.
“Harry,” said I, “be not deceived by the fascinating Riga—that gay
Lothario of all inexperienced, sea-going youths, from the capital or
the country; he has a Janus-face, Harry; and you will not know him when
he gets you out of sight of land, and mouths his cast-off coats and
browsers. For _then_ he is another personage altogether, and adjusts
his character to the shabbiness of his integuments. No more condolings
and sympathy then; no more blarney; he will hold you a little better
than his boots, and would no more think of addressing you than of
invoking wooden Donald, the figure-head on our bows.”
And I further admonished my friend concerning our crew, particularly of
the diabolical Jackson, and warned him to be cautious and wary. I told
him, that unless he was somewhat accustomed to the rigging, and could
furl a royal in a squall, he would be sure to subject himself to a sort
of treatment from the sailors, in the last degree ignominious to any
mortal who had ever crossed his legs under mahogany.
And I played the inquisitor, in cross-questioning Harry respecting the
precise degree in which he was a practical sailor;—whether he had a
giddy head; whether his arms could bear the weight of his body;
whether, with but one hand on a shroud, a hundred feet aloft in a
tempest, he felt he could look right to windward and beard it.
To all this, and much more, Harry rejoined with the most off-hand and
confident air; saying that in his _“guinea-pig”_ days, he had often
climbed the masts and handled the sails in a gentlemanly and amateur
way; so he made no doubt that he would very soon prove an expert
tumbler in the Highlander’s rigging.
His levity of manner, and sanguine assurance, coupled with the constant
sight of his most unseamanlike person—more suited to the Queen’s
drawing-room than a ship’s forecastle-bred many misgivings in my mind.
But after all, every one in this world has his own fate intrusted to
himself; and though we may warn, and forewarn, and give sage advice,
and indulge in many apprehensions touching our friends; yet our
friends, for the most part, will _“gang their ain gate;”_ and the most
we can do is, to hope for the best. Still, I suggested to Harry,
whether he had not best cross the sea as a steerage passenger, since he
could procure enough money for that; but no, he was bent upon going as
a sailor.
I now had a comrade in my afternoon strolls, and Sunday excursions; and
as Harry was a generous fellow, he shared with me his purse and his
heart. He sold off several more of his fine vests and browsers, his
silver-keyed flute and enameled guitar; and a portion of the money thus
furnished was pleasantly spent in refreshing ourselves at the road-side
inns in the vicinity of the town.
Reclining side by side in some agreeable nook, we exchanged our
experiences of the past. Harry enlarged upon the fascinations of a
London life; described the curricle he used to drive in Hyde Park; gave
me the measurement of Madame Vestris’ ankle; alluded to his first
introduction at a club to the madcap Marquis of Waterford; told over
the sums he had lost upon the turf on a Derby day; and made various but
enigmatical allusions to a certain Lady Georgiana Theresa, the noble
daughter of an anonymous earl.
Even in conversation, Harry was a prodigal; squandering his
aristocratic narrations with a careless hand; and, perhaps, sometimes
spending funds of reminiscences not his own.
As for me, I had only my poor old uncle the senator to fall back upon;
and I used him upon all emergencies, like the knight in the game of
chess; making him hop about, and stand stiffly up to the encounter,
against all my fine comrade’s array of dukes, lords, curricles, and
countesses.
In these long talks of ours, I frequently expressed the earnest desire
I cherished, to make a visit to London; and related how strongly
tempted I had been one Sunday, to walk the whole way, without a penny
in my pocket. To this, Harry rejoined, that nothing would delight him
more, than to show me the capital; and he even meaningly but
mysteriously hinted at the possibility of his doing so, before many
days had passed. But this seemed so idle a thought, that I only imputed
it to my friend’s good-natured, rattling disposition, which sometimes
prompted him to out with any thing, that he thought would be agreeable.
Besides, would this fine blade of Bury be seen, by his aristocratic
acquaintances, walking down Oxford-street, say, arm in arm with the
sleeve of my shooting-jacket? The thing was preposterous; and I began
to think, that Harry, after all, was a little bit disposed to impose
upon my Yankee credulity.
Luckily, my Bury blade had no acquaintance in Liverpool, where, indeed,
he was as much in a foreign land, as if he were already on the shores
of Lake Erie; so that he strolled about with me in perfect abandonment;
reckless of the cut of my shooting-jacket; and not caring one whit who
might stare at so singular a couple.
But once, crossing a square, faced on one side by a fashionable hotel,
he made a rapid turn with me round a corner; and never stopped, till
the square was a good block in our rear. The cause of this sudden
retreat, was a remarkably elegant coat and pantaloons, standing upright
on the hotel steps, and containing a young buck, tapping his teeth with
an ivory-headed riding-whip.
“Who was he, Harry?” said I.
“My old chum, Lord Lovely,” said Harry, with a careless air, “and
Heaven only knows what brings Lovely from London.”
“A lord?” said I starting; “then I must look at him again;” for lords
are very scarce in Liverpool.
Unmindful of my companion’s remonstrances, I ran back to the corner;
and slowly promenaded past the upright coat and pantaloons on the
steps.
It was not much of a lord to behold; very thin and limber about the
legs, with small feet like a doll’s, and a small, glossy head like a
seal’s. I had seen just such looking lords standing in sentimental
attitudes in front of Palmo’s in Broadway.
However, he and I being mutual friends of Harry’s, I thought something
of accosting him, and taking counsel concerning what was best to be
done for the young prodigal’s welfare; but upon second thoughts I
thought best not to intrude; especially, as just then my lord Lovely
stepped to the open window of a flashing carriage which drew up; and
throwing himself into an interesting posture, with the sole of one boot
vertically exposed, so as to show the stamp on it—a coronet—fell into a
sparkling conversation with a magnificent white satin hat, surmounted
by a regal marabou feather, inside.
I doubted not, this lady was nothing short of a peeress; and thought it
would be one of the pleasantest and most charming things in the world,
just to seat myself beside her, and order the coachman to take us a
drive into the country.
But, as upon further consideration, I imagined that the peeress might
decline the honor of my company, since I had no formal card of
introduction; I marched on, and rejoined my companion, whom I at once
endeavored to draw out, touching Lord Lovely; but he only made
mysterious answers; and turned off the conversation, by allusions to
his visits to Ickworth in Suffolk, the magnificent seat of the Most
Noble Marquis of Bristol, who had repeatedly assured Harry that he
might consider Ickworth his home.
Now, all these accounts of marquises and Ickworths, and Harry’s having
been hand in glove with so many lords and ladies, began to breed some
suspicions concerning the rigid morality of my friend, as a teller of
the truth. But, after all, thought I to myself, who can prove that
Harry has fibbed? Certainly, his manners are polished, he has a mighty
easy address; and there is nothing altogether impossible about his
having consorted with the master of Ickworth, and the daughter of the
anonymous earl. And what right has a poor Yankee, like me, to insinuate
the slightest suspicion against what he says? What little money he has,
he spends freely; he can not be a polite blackleg, for I am no pigeon
to pluck; so _that_ is out of the question;—perish such a thought,
concerning my own bosom friend!
But though I drowned all my suspicions as well as I could, and ever
cherished toward Harry a heart, loving and true; yet, spite of all
this, I never could entirely digest some of his imperial reminiscences
of high life. I was very sorry for this; as at times it made me feel
ill at ease in his company; and made me hold back my whole soul from
him; when, in its loneliness, it was yearning to throw itself into the
unbounded bosom of some immaculate friend.