IN WHICH THE BO'SUN DISCOURSES ON LOVE AND ITS SYMPTOMS
Oho! for the warmth and splendor of the mid-day sun; for the dance
and flurry of leafy shadows on the sward; for stilly wayside pools
whose waters, deep and dark in the shade of overhanging boughs, are
yet dappled here and there with glory; for merry brooks leaping
and laughing along their stony beds; for darkling copse and sunny
upland,--oho! for youth and life and the joy of it.
To the eyes of Barnabas, the beauty of the world about him served
only to remind him of the beauty of her who was compounded of all
things beautiful,--the One and Only Woman, whose hair was yellow
like the ripening corn, whose eyes were deep and blue as the infinite
heaven, whose lips were red as the poppies that bloomed beside the
way, and whose body was warm with youth, and soft and white as the
billowy clouds above.
Thus on galloped Barnabas with the dust behind and the white road
before, and with never a thought of London, or its wonders, or the
gathering shadow.
It was well past noon when he beheld a certain lonely church where
many a green mound and mossy headstone marked the resting-place of
those that sleep awhile. And here, beside the weather-worn porch,
were the stocks, that "place of thought" where Viscount Devenham had
sat in solitary, though dignified meditation. A glance, a smile, and
Barnabas was past, and galloping down the hill towards where the
village nestled in the valley. Before the inn he dismounted, and,
having seen Four-legs well bestowed, and given various directions to
a certain sleepy-voiced ostler, he entered the inn, and calling for
dinner, ate it with huge relish. Now, when he had done, came the
landlord to smoke a pipe with him,--a red-faced man, vast of paunch
and garrulous of tongue.
"Fine doin's there be up at t' great 'ouse, sir," he began.
"You mean Annersley House?"
"Ay, sir. All the quality is there,--my son's a groom there an' 'e
told me, so 'e did. Theer ain't nobody as ain't either a Markus or a
Earl or a Vi'count, and as for Barry-nets, they're as thick as flies,
they are,--an' all to meet a little, old 'ooman as don't come up to
my shoulder! But then--she's a Duchess, an' that makes all the
difference!"
"Yes, of course," said Barnabas.
"A little old 'ooman wi' curls, as don't come no-wise near so 'igh
as my shoulder! Druv up to that theer very door as you see theer, in
'er great coach an' four, she did,--orders the steps to be lowered,
--comes tapping into this 'ere very room with 'er little cane, she do,
--sits down in that theer very chair as you're a-sittin' in, she do,
fannin' 'erself with a little fan--an' calls for--now, what d' ye
suppose, sir?"
"I haven't the least idea."
"She calls, sir,--though you won't believe me, it aren't to be
expected,--no, not on my affer-daver,--she being a Duchess, ye see--"
"Well, what did she call for?" inquired Barnabas, rising.
"Sir, she called for--on my solemn oath it's true--though I don't ax
ye to believe me, mind,--she sat in that theer identical chair,--an'
mark me, 'er a Duchess,--she sat in that cheer, a-fannin' 'erself
with 'er little fan, an' calls for a 'arf of Kentish ale--'Westerham
brew,' says she; an' 'er a Duchess! In a tankard! But I know as you
won't believe me,--nor I don't ax any man to,--no, not if I went
down on my bended marrer-bones--"
"But I do believe you," said Barnabas.
"What--you do?" cried the landlord, almost reproachfully.
"Certainly! A Duchess is, sometimes, almost human."
"But you--actooally--believe me?"
"Yes."
"Well--you surprise me, sir! Ale! A Duchess! In a tankard! No, it
aren't nat'ral. Never would I ha' believed as any one would ha'
believed such a--"
But here Barnabas laughed, and taking up his hat, sallied out into
the sunshine.
He went by field paths that led him past woods in whose green
twilight thrushes and blackbirds piped, by sunny meadows where larks
mounted heavenward in an ecstasy of song, and so, eventually he
found himself in a road where stood a weather-beaten finger-post,
with its two arms wide-spread and pointing:
TO LONDON. TO HAWKHURST
Here Barnabas paused a while, and bared his head as one who stands
on hallowed ground. And looking upon the weather-worn finger-post,
he smiled very tenderly, as one might who meets an old friend. Then
he went on again until he came to a pair of tall iron gates,
hospitable gates that stood open as though inviting him to enter.
Therefore he went on, and thus presently espied a low, rambling
house of many gables, about which were trim lawns and stately trees.
Now as he stood looking at this house, he heard a voice near by, a
deep, rolling bass upraised in song, and the words of it were these:
"What shall we do with the drunken sailor,
Heave, my lads, yo-ho!
Why, put him in the boat and roll him over,
Put him in the boat till he gets sober,
Put him in the boat and roll him over,
With a heave, my lads, yo-ho!"
Following the direction of this voice, Barnabas came to a lawn
screened from the house by hedges of clipped yew. At the further end
of this lawn was a small building which had been made to look as
much as possible like the after-cabin of a ship. It had a door midway,
with a row of small, square windows on either side, and was flanked
at each end by a flight of wooden steps, with elaborately carved
hand-rails, that led up to the quarterdeck above, which was
protected by more carved posts and rails. Here a stout pole had been
erected and rigged with block and fall, and from this, a flag
stirred lazily in the gentle wind.
Now before this building, his blue coat laid by, his shirt sleeves
rolled up, his glazed hat on the back of his head, was the Bo'sun,
polishing away at a small, brass cannon that was mounted on a
platform, and singing lustily as he worked. So loudly did he sing,
and so engrossed was he, that he did not look up until he felt
Barnabas touch him. Then he started, turned, stared, hesitated, and,
finally, broke into a smile.
"Ah, it's you, sir,--the young gemman as bore away for Lon'on
alongside Master Horatio, his Lordship!"
"Yes," said Barnabas, extending his hand, "how are you, Bo'sun?"
"Hearty, sir, hearty, I thank ye!" Saying which he touched his
forehead, rubbed his hand upon his trousers, looked at it, rubbed it
again, and finally gave it to Barnabas, though with an air of apology.
"Been making things a bit ship-shape, sir, 'count o' this here day
being a occasion,--but I'm hearty, sir, hearty, I thank ye."
"And the Captain," said Barnabas with some hesitation. "How is the
Captain?"
"The Cap'n, sir," answered the Bo'sun, "the Cap'n is likewise hearty."
"And--Lady Cleone--is she well, is she happy?"
"Why, sir, she's as 'appy as can be expected--under the circumstances."
"What circumstances?"
"Love, sir."
"Love!" exclaimed Barnabas, "why, Bo'sun--what do you mean?"
"I mean, sir, as she's fell in love at last--
"How do you know--who with--where is she--?"
"Well, sir, I know on account o' 'er lowness o' sperrits,--noticed
it for a week or more. Likewise I've heered 'er sigh very frequent,
and I've seen 'er sit a-staring up at the moon--ah, that I have!
Now lovers is generally low in their sperrits, I've heered tell,
and they allus stare very 'ard at the moon,--why, I don't know,
but they do,--leastways, so I've--"
"But--in love--with whom? Can I see her? Where is she? Are you sure?"
"And sartain, sir. Only t' other night, as I sat a-smoking my pipe
on the lawn, yonder,--she comes out to me, and nestles down under my
lee--like she used to years ago. 'Jerry, dear,' says she, 'er voice
all low and soft-like, 'look at the moon,--how beautiful it is!' says
she, and--she give a sigh. 'Yes, my lady,' says I. 'Oh, Jerry,' says
she, 'call me Clo, as you used to do.' 'Yes, my Lady Clo,' says I.
But she grapples me by the collar, and stamps 'er foot at me, all
in a moment. 'Leave out the 'lady,'' says she. 'Yes, Clo,' says I.
So she nestles an' sighs and stares at the moon again. 'Jerry, dear,'
says she after a bit, 'when will the moon be at the full?' 'To-morrer,
Clo,' says I. And after she's stared and sighed a bit longer--'Jerry,
dear,' says she again, 'it's sweet to think that while we are
looking up at the moon--others perhaps are looking at it too, I mean
others who are far away. It--almost seems to bring them nearer,
doesn't it? Then I knowed as 't were love, with a big L, sartin and
sure, and--"
"Bo'sun," said Barnabas, catching him by the arm, "who is it she
loves?"
"Well, sir,--I aren't quite sure, seeing as there are so many on 'em
in 'er wake, but I think,--and I 'ope, as it's 'is Lordship, Master
Horatio."
"Ah!" said Barnabas, his frowning brow relaxing.
"If it ain't 'im,--why then it's mutiny,--that's what it is, sir!"
"Mutiny?"
"Ye see, sir," the Bo'sun went on to explain, "orders is orders, and
if she don't love Master Horatio--well, she ought to."
"Why?"
"Because they was made for each other. Because they was promised to
each other years ago. It were all arranged an' settled 'twixt Master
Horatio's father, the Earl, and Lady Cleone's guardian, the Cap'n."
"Ah!" said Barnabas, "and where is she--and the Captain?"
"Out, sir; an' she made him put on 'is best uniform, as he only
wears on Trafalgar Day, and such great occasions. She orders out the
fam'ly coach, and away they go, 'im the very picter o' what a
post-captain o' Lord Nelson should be (though to be sure, there's a
darn in his white silk stocking--the one to starboard, just abaft
the shoe-buckle, and, therefore, not to be noticed, and I were allus
'andy wi' my needle), and her--looking the picter o' the handsomest
lady, the loveliest, properest maid in all this 'ere world. Away
they go, wi' a fair wind to sarve 'em, an' should ha' dropped anchor
at Annersley House a full hour ago."
"At Annersley?" said Barnabas. "There is a reception there, I hear?"
"Yes, sir, all great folk from Lon'on, besides country folk o'
quality,--to meet the Duchess o' Camberhurst, and she's the greatest
of 'em all. Lord! There's enough blue blood among 'em to float a
Seventy-four. Nat'rally, the Cap'n wanted to keep a good offing to
windward of 'em. 'For look ye, Jerry,' says he, 'I'm no confounded
courtier to go bowing and scraping to a painted old woman, with a
lot of other fools, just because she happens to be a duchess,--no,
damme!' and down 'e sits on the breech o' the gun here. But, just
then, my lady heaves into sight, brings up alongside, and comes to
an anchor on his knee. 'Dear,' says she, with her round, white arm
about his neck, and her soft, smooth cheek agin his, 'dear, it's
almost time we began to dress.' 'Dress?' says he, 'what for, Clo,--I
say, what d'ye mean?' 'Why, for the reception,' says she. 'To-day is
my birthday' (which it is, sir, wherefore the flag at our peak,
yonder), 'and I know you mean to take me,' says she, 'so I told
Robert we should want the coach at three. So come along and
dress,--like a dear.' The Cap'n stared at 'er, dazed-like, give
me a look, and,--well--" the Bo'sun smiled and shook his head.
"Ye see, sir, in some ways the Cap'n 's very like a ordinary man,
arter all!"