Those who have never been away from their native land, can hardly
imagine the intense excitement which prevailed on board the Stinger,
when the word was passed along the deck that the Start had been made.
"Land ho!" shouted the boys who had remained up to get the first glimpse
of the long-watched-for light. "Tumble out, chaps, and see the land."
Hearing this, the ordinary seamen and boys of the watch below turned out
and went on deck; while the older men of the crew, after vainly
pretending not to care, at last followed their example. Under other
circumstances the latter would have kept their beds until the time came
for them to go on duty, but the Start light was to them a proof that
they would shortly be free men again: and, leaving the snug shelter of
their hammocks, they crawled on deck, and after gazing at the bright
beam, fell to at discussion as eagerly as their more youthful shipmates.
"That ain't the Start light; it's the Shambles," growled an aged tar,
who, wrapped up to the eyes in a lammy frock, strongly resembled a polar
bear.
"I tell ye it's the Start," urged another speaker; "I was borned not far
off it, and I ought to know."
"You was borned?" contemptuously observed the old man who had first
spoken; "you, was borned? Well, I suppose every one has been borned as
well as you. But I say it's the Shambles, and I don't care a button who
says it isn't."
"There's the Portland light," cried another; and so they made out each
beacon as it came in view, and yarned away the time utterly regardless
of its being their watch below.
The "watch on deck" worked like lightning; and Tortle, who was on the
bridge with Cravan, observed they were as smart a crew as he had ever
commanded.
"Yes," sneered the first lieutenant, "they can move quick enough, the
lubbers, now they smell the land; they are not as smart as this in a
gale of wind."
Forward, the gun-ports of the forecastle were swarming with the watch
below and idlers, and it was amusing to hear their ideas as to what they
would do with their money when they were paid off; the opinions of the
old petty officers being listened to with the utmost attention and
respect by the boys, who believed their mess-bullies possessed the most
profound knowledge of nautical human affairs.
"I say, Bill Farley, won't your old woman be in Portsmouth to meet you?"
observed a leathern-visaged individual to a fat old boatswain's yeoman,
who, with round figure and small head, looked like a turtle standing on
its hind fins.
"She _will_ be there, me hearty--trust her. My old gal has never missed
a voyage but once, and then _I lost my way_, and by the time I reached
her I had only a penny in my pocket. Ha, ha, ha!"
This being the signal for a laugh, the spectators joined in the roar,
but the moral of the story was not lost on the boys, who whispered to
each other, "Ah, old Bill's bin a gay one, ain't he?"
"How are you goin' to spend your whack, Joseph?" demanded another old
salt, addressing a marine who was seated on the starboard side of the
forecastle. "How are you a goin' to get rid of all your fan-pinners,
chummy?"
"Me, old George? Why, I'm going' to buy my discharge, and mean to
emigrate to Awstraylea. I'm tired of soldiering."
"_Are_ you, Joseph?" continued his friend somewhat sarcastically. "I
know what sort of Stralia you'll reach. You'll go ashore, get a pint of
beer, go up to the barracks, go to the canteen, treat a lot of fellers
who is as greedy as sharks, get into a glorious state, have your
furlough given you, go on a bender, be in a werry tight state for a
week, wake up some mornin' to find you haven't got a mag, have a pint on
tick, get histed out of the house and fetch up in barricks agin jest in
time to larn your new drill. That'll be your Straylia. No, Joseph, you
belongs to the sarvice, you don't know nothing outside of the sarvice,
and the sarvice will keep you, mark me!"
The marine growled, out a reply, saying that he sposed he weren't a born
fool, and knowed what to do with his own; but the audience only shook
their heads and looked pityingly upon him. Their oracle had spoken, and
they firmly believed that Joseph would do exactly as George predicted.
Towards midnight some of the watchers began to get tired of looking out
for the lights, and the more prudent went down below when the watch was
called at eight bells; but many of them were far too much excited to go
to sleep, so they kept on deck until the morning dawned, and the grey
fog lifted and showed them the white cliffs. They believed that the hour
of freedom was at hand; and although the "iron grasp" was light upon
them, many of the lads determined never to let it close round them
again. Unlike the marine, they were intelligent fellows, who having once
felt what the tyranny of a man-of-war was like, knew too much to place
themselves within its cruel power a second time; and although
"continuous and general service men," many of them were, soon after the
Stinger was paid off, ploughing the seas in merchant-ships bound for
America or the colonies. It was this anticipation which excited them,
and kept them on deck through that night. They remembered Clare's
punishment, Dunstable's death, and the other atrocities which had been
perpetrated on board by cruel men in command, and all their subsequent
good treatment by Captain Woodward did not prevent them from thinking
bitterly of their slavery, particularly as a tyrant had followed up his
too brief term of strict but just command.
The Stinger steamed up the Channel, and in due time arrived at Spithead,
where she saluted the admiral's flag, and having discharged her powder,
entered Portsmouth harbour, preparatory to being paid off, and by five
o'clock on Saturday evening was made fast to the wharf, upon which
swarmed a crowd of relations and friends, ready to fall upon the crew,
and, if not prevented by the police, to carry them off piecemeal.
Major Barron had landed when the ship was at Spithead, and upon the
Stinger arriving alongside the wharf was waiting with a carriage ready
to take his family to the George Hotel. Great was the sensation when the
mob beheld a lady led on shore by Captain Tortle, followed by a French
bonne carrying a pretty blue-eyed baby; but when Cops made her
appearance in the arms of Mr. Thompson--and that charming young lady
kissed her hand to the crowd--all the mothers present, and there were
not a few, cried "Bless her little heart?" and the spinsters, and other
females, looked at the innocent face, thought of their own childhood,
and, bad as some of them were, said, "Pretty darling, aint she lovely?"
the acting-boatswain by his looks almost resenting any encomiums passed
by the latter speakers.
When Captain Tortle had landed her mamma into the carriage, he turned to
Cops as if intending to take her from her friend, but she resolutely
refused to allow him to touch her, upon seeing which the mob laughed and
the women cried, "Well done, pretty dear!" Tortle's disposition being
known to the people, who were well posted in the peculiarities of most
naval officers of rank. Mr. Thompson having placed his tyrant in the
carriage, was rewarded with a kiss, after which, to the further
admiration of the crowd, the Major and Mrs. Barron shook hands with him,
and the vehicle was driven away amid the deafening cheers of the mob,
who considered such an act of condescension required a special mark of
their approbation.
When the passengers had departed, Captain Tortle returned to his ship
and informed the crew that, in consequence of some orders received from
the Admiralty but a few moments before, it was decided that the ship was
to proceed to Woolwich to pay off, and as it would prevent a great deal
of trouble, the admiral had ordered that the men were not to have leave,
as the ship was to start early on Monday morning, but from 8 o'clock
A.M. until 8 o'clock P.M. the next day their friends and relations would
be allowed to come on board to see them.
This information was anticipated by the crew, who were, upon the ship's
arrival alongside the wharf, told of the facts by the mob, who seemed to
know all about it. So upon receiving their letters and getting sundry
presents from their friends, and a supply of beer on board, they kept
tolerably quiet, and the dockyard police having cleared the wharf, by
eight o'clock that night, the Stinger was as still as a graveyard.
At six o'clock the next morning the crew were turned out, and after they
had scrubbed and washed decks, stowed their hammocks, put all the
ornamental work round the wheel, capstan, and gangways, and generally
decorated the ship, they were piped to church, and for the first time
since the battle of Chow-chan received the benefit of the regular
clergy, and as their thoughts wandered elsewhere, proved anything but a
devotional flock. It is true under the generous Woodward the prayers of
the Established Church were regularly read to them once a week, but "The
Articles of War" having been substituted for religious service by
Tortle, the crew had fallen into indifference, and the only effect
produced by the clergyman was a tendency to doze on the part of the
boys, while the men looked as if they were swearing instead of repeating
the responses.
Church being over, the pipe went for breakfast, and various presents
received from friends on shore were duly paraded in the messes. One old
quarter-master produced a plum-pudding large and heavy enough to give an
elephant a fit of indigestion; while another served out red herrings to
all his less fortunate messmates who were unprovided with wives to send
them off such delicacies. Some paraded fat pork sausages or
handkerchiefs full of apples, while many a sly nip of grog, sent on
board in skins secreted in the food, was swigged by the knowing ones,
who imagined the nasty stuff to be nectar, because it was
surreptitiously obtained. Every one was in good humour, and, taking it
altogether, considered the admiralty order to stop their leave was a
wise precaution.
About a quarter before eight o'clock all those who claimed to be the
wives or relatives of the Stingers were let into the dockyard, and a mob
of clamorous expectants swarmed upon the wharf, all eager to see their
friends or to make friends with those they saw on board.
"Vy, Shack," screamed one gentleman, whose every-day occupation
consisted in selling sham jewellery or ready-made clothes to
half-intoxicated sailors. "Vy, Shack, ma poy, how are you?"
"Not much better for seeing of you, Peter," replied the man thus
addressed. "I don't want no more of your tin watches and baggy trowsers
this voyage;" hearing which, Peter turned his attention to another
sailor.
A number of policemen now arrived, and having forced their way through
the crowd, formed a half circle round the top of the gangway ladder, in
order to keep the unruly among the mob from pouring on board the ship
_en masse_.
Precisely as the dockyard bell struck eight the first lady was passed on
board, and being rather short-sighted, she, much to her husband's
annoyance, saluted the wrong sailor, which caused no little merriment
among the others, and made her partner growl out, "I say, Peggy, when
you've done with George Town perhaps you'll give me a buss."
"Ladies first," cried the sergeant of marines, who, with the ship's
corporal, kept the girls from thrusting each other off the gangway into
the water. "Just ease a little, mum, or you'll squeeze that ere infant's
life out," he added, as one brazen-faced woman, who declared she was the
wife of Mister Stebbings, A. B., pushed herself past him, and drove her
way down the ladder.
Unfortunately for the creature, the sergeant laid hold of the child, and
finding it wad a dummy, rudely snatched it from her arms, whereupon the
ladies on the wharf set up a howl of indignation.
"You brute!" cried one, "to serve a baby in that manner."
"The wretch!" shrieked another.
"Murder!" screamed the lady who was thus abruptly deprived of her
_infant_.
The sergeant, after compelling the indignant woman to retrace her steps
up the ladder, handed her over to the police, and proceeded to strip the
wrappings off the dummy, which process at last brought to light a
large-sized square bottle of "Hollands," seeing which the--_mother_
swooned in the policeman's arms, and was carried to the dock gates,
where they laid her outside to come to as best she might. We need
scarcely say she recovered as soon as she found herself out of custody.
The sergeant's action was quite correct, for were women allowed to carry
spirits on board a man-of-war the men would be simply unmanageable, and
the most strict search has to be instituted to prevent liquor being thus
introduced by disreputable characters, who as long as they can pillage
the sailors do not hesitate to supply them with the most poisonous
stuff.
In any cases the various friends were required to name their relatives
before they were allowed on board, although it was not always possible
to get them to speak, as among this disreputable mob were many genuine
mothers, wives, and sweethearts, and some of those became so agitated at
the sight of their relations, that they could not speak, but would point
with their fingers to the loved ones, and with mute earnestness prove
their claims were genuine.
There was much laughter when an old woman would frantically embrace her
equally old man. The aged lovers in many cases joined in the roar; but
now and then the faces of all, both on shore and on board, were
saddened, as some poor creature would come forward and ask to see a
husband whom she would never meet again in this world.
Just after the fictitious baby had been disposed of a respectably
attired girl passed down the gangway ladder, and seeing Mr. Thompson,
with whom she formerly had been acquainted, she laughingly asked him
where her Jem was.
"Your Jem, mam? Jem what?"
"Why, don't you know me now you're promoted?" (She saw he was no longer
a common sailor.) "Why, Jem Shaw," replied the woman, her mouth moving
nervously, as if fearing to hear some ill tidings.
"God bless you, poor soul!--Come down into my cabin," said the
sympathizing acting warrant.
The woman followed him as if in a dream; and when she reached the cabin,
grasped his arm and demanded if her Jem were alive or not, bidding him
out with it, and not kill her with waiting.
Thompson turned his face away, and in a husky voice told her that poor
Jem was dead, and had been buried out in China.
"Oh! oh!" wailed the poor creature; "my poor Jem--oh, my poor dear
man!" and then she fell fainting upon his arm.
Thompson called some women who were sitting happily by the side of their
husbands, and told them to see to the helpless girl. Then, having
directed them to give her a little brandy, the sympathetic fellow went
on deck.
After a time the poor creature revived, and, sending for Mr. Thompson,
was escorted by him to the dock gates, her eyes dry and tearless, and
her heart feeling like a stone. Upon parting Jerry respectfully bade her
good-bye, when she turned her wan face towards his, and, having thus
mutely expressed her thankfulness, walked slowly away.
This was not the only case where poor women came to meet their
relations, and found they were no more, and the scenes upon those
occasions were most heart-rending. In this, as in all other phases of
life, misery and happiness being side by side.
By noon the ship was completely crammed with the sailors' visitors, many
persons suddenly finding relations of whose existence they had
previously been unaware. Some of the boys had no less than seven uncles
and aunts, and one old topman was claimed by five wives. These were, of
course, exceptions, but upon an average the sailors had ten relatives
a-piece, not less than five of these being well-known dealers in
clothing, who showed their joy at meeting their "tear friends" by
repeatedly measuring them for fashionable suits.
"Shest let me measure you round the vaist vonce again, Villiam, ma poy,"
urged the irrepressible Peter, who had somehow contrived to get on
board. "I vont our verkmen to fit you like a glove, ma poy."
The sailor so addressed submitted to the measuring process for the
fourth time, but, notwithstanding this, he had a suit of clothes sent to
him at Woolwich, which would have fitted a man twice his size; but
having foolishly paid for them beforehand, had no remedy, so he sold
them to a gentleman who strongly resembled Peter, of whom he,
sailor-like, ordered another suit.
Clare had received a short note from his wife, and a portrait of his
boy, and the poor fellow was busily employed all the afternoon in
writing a long letter to Polly, in which he communicated his friend's
good fortune, and informed her of his intention of paying Jerry a visit
when the latter should be settled in his new home.
Upon the day after they arrived in harbour Mr. Thompson received the
following unsigned note; and, as he imagined that it came from Mary Ann,
it somewhat revived his feeble attachment.
"_No._ 34, _West Delacour Street_,
"_Portsmouth._
"DEAR MR. THOMPSON,
"We shall be pleased to see you to tea to-night, at five o'clock."
His heart now beat quickly, and a hundred little reminiscences of his
old sweetheart came into his mind. "Well, she is right not to be too
forward; she is a good girl," he thought; "so I'll go on shore and pop
the question this evening, and if all goes smoothly she can join me at
Woolwich, and we will get married. Then I shall be done for, and can
start life ashore as a respectable individual."
About four o'clock Jerry, having dressed himself in his best uniform,
left the ship in company with the carpenter and gunner, and after
partaking of a friendly glass of ale, the trio parted, he to ascertain
his fate, they to visit their friends and relations.
Mr. Thompson walked quickly to the street, which was in, to him, a new
locality; and having peered at the numbers on one side of the way, was
returning down the other when a door opened, and Mary Ann stepped forth,
bearing in her arms a chubby-looking baby, who, seeing Jerry, crowed,
kicked its little legs, and cried "Dad-da;" when, without waiting for a
recognition from her, the excited fellow rushed forward, and catching
Mary Ann round the waist, imprinted a hearty smack upon her lips, and
cried, "Why, Mary Ann, my dear gal, how are you?"
"Gr-r-acious evengs! why, it's Jerry!" said the blushing girl.
"Why--how--did--you--come--here?"
Hearing this a smartly-dressed young man stepped out upon the pavement,
and seeing the visitor, coolly walked up to him, and taking his hand,
said, "Welcome home, old chap, _she's_ a waiting for you up-stairs."
By this time Mary Ann had somewhat recovered her composure; so, turning
to her old flame, she welcomed him home; then, with a sly twinkle in her
eyes, begged to introduce him to her husband, Mr. Joseph Jenkins.
"Why, d-d-dear me, if it ain't the carpenter!" cried the astonished
acting-warrant; "and that little cheerup, is _he_ or _she_ your'n?"
Mary Ann nodded, and smilingly observed that they had another at home--a
boy--older than that one, and they had named him Jerry, out of
compliment to him, thinking he was dead.
"So you're married, and have got a family, and a good husband, have you,
Mary Ann?"
"Yes, Mr. Thompson, as good a husband as ever a woman were blessed
with."
"Being so, I can't marry you," he continued in a dreamy manner. "But,
Mrs. Mary Ann, as I'm going to get married somehow, can you recommend me
to a nice young gal; I feel mighty lonely now you're out of the way."
Mrs. Jenkins laughed, and having shaken hands with him, pointed to the
sign over the shop before which they were standing, and observed,
"There's a lady who will be proud to see you, Mr. Thompson;" then
motioning to her husband to say good-bye, she passed up the street.
"Mrs. Shever, Dressmaker, Ladies' own materials made up," read the
somewhat bewildered Thompson. "Well, she always was a kind-hearted one,
so I'll call upon her and tell her how I am situated."
At that moment a smart servant-girl peeped forth as if to reconnoitre,
but seeing Mr. Thompson withdrew again, and shut the door with a bang;
upon which Jerry pulled the bell and lifted the knocker, directions to
that effect being given over the handle of the former.
After some delay the domestic appeared at the door, and, looking at the
visitor as if she had never seen him in her life, sweetly murmured,
"What do you want, sir?"
"Does Mrs. Shever live here?"
"Yes sir."
"Is she at home?"
"I don't know, sir. Will you please give me your card?"
Now, Jerry thought it rather a joke for Mrs. Shever to require her
visitors to send up their cards, so, although he knew better, he pulled
out an article bearing the name of "Edwin Lass, Bootmaker. Repairs
neatly executed on the shortest notice," and having deposited it in a
plated salver, which the girl produced from under her apron, was
requested to walk in and wait in the "drawering room," until she found
out if missis was at home.
Thompson seated himself on a sofa and laughed, as he thought how very
stylish Mrs. Shever had become, when all of a sudden the door was
opened and in walked the boatswain's widow, who without more ado
tottered towards him, uttered a little squeal, and fainted in his arms.
"Poor creature! why, it's too much for her," he cried. "Here,
Mary--Eliza--what's your name? bring some vinegar and brown paper."
Finding the smart servant was out of hearing, and Mrs. Shever's rosy
lips being in close proximity to his own, Mr. Thompson thoughtlessly
imprinted a kiss upon them! and the first gentle pressure proving
ineffectual, repeated the application until the lady found he began to
weary, upon which she recovered from her faint, and allowed him to lead
her to the sofa.
After passing her right hand several times across her forehead, as if
recovering from a dream, the boatswain's widow suddenly ejaculated, "Am
I awake?"
"I believe you are, my dear Mrs. S.," replied the somewhat amused
sailor. "Would you like a little cold water sprinkled over your face?"
"Oh, dear me, no, Mr. Thompson," cried she, fearing he would spoil her
dress. "I'm all right now; I fear I fainted."
"You went off like a shot, mum; but I'm glad you're all right, as I
ain't up to this sort of performance. I were just a going to burn them
things under your nose," cried he pointing to some peacock's feathers
which ornamented a mirror hanging over the fireplace. "I've heard they
are first-rate for highstayricks."
"Can he be indifferent to me? No, surely he will be only too glad to
marry me," thought the boatswain's widow, "but I'll be more distant, and
draw him out."--"Would you like to have some music, Mr. Thompson?"
"Werry much indeed, mum. Have you a hand organ, or do that work by
machinery?" inquired Jerry, pointing to a cottage piano, which stood on
the other side of the room.
Mrs. Shever gave a peculiar little laugh, as if to hide her chagrin;
then rising majestically, rustled to the piano, and having perpetrated
some preliminary attempts, at last managed to finger her way through a
simple air, although, in spite of her endeavours to check herself, she
would every now and then audibly utter "one! two! three!" which caused
Mr. Thompson to remark that she might just as well give him the whole of
the words out loud, as he was fond of hearing a lady sing.
Having concluded the performance, which was the result of long study on
her part, and much patience on that of her music mistress, the
boatswain's widow returned to the sofa, and, notwithstanding the
entreaty of her visitor, wisely declined to repeat what he called the
ceremony.
Now, Mrs. Shever wanted to bring Jerry to a declaration; and, as she had
invited Mary Ann and her husband to return to supper, having no doubt
but that Mr. Thompson would propose to her before they arrived, began to
get a little fidgetty, so, in order to lead him on, she asked why he had
called upon her.
"Well, you see, my dear Mrs. Shever, wot with that poor gal a fainting
in my cabin this morning--"
"Oh, false man, false man!" murmured the lady, bashfully reclining her
head upon his shoulder.
"No, marm, I were not false."
"I know that, I know that. You are too noble, too generous to be false.
It was her own fault."
"No, it warn't. How could she help losing her husband?"
"Oh," cried Mrs. Shever, seeing she had made a mistake, "of course she
couldn't help it, poor soul."
"Well, first that occurred, and made me feel as unhappy as if she had
been my own wife."
"You ain't married, are you?" exclaimed the buxom widow, raising her
head in alarm.
"Why, bless your kind heart, no. I've come here to ask your advice. I
find Mary Ann hasn't kept; so, knowing you are a motherly sort of a
soul, I come to ask you what you would advise me to do."
Mrs. Shever did not much relish the term "motherly sort of a soul;" but,
relying upon her powers of entanglement, she let him run on.
"I'm young and have good prospects, and all I want is to meet with a
girl who is honest and good, and who will be as true to me as I will be
to her. I've got a first-rate berth on shore, and can afford to keep a
wife, so I means to have one. I have loved a woman, who is now better
off, in such a way as I shall never love again." Here Jerry's eye
moistened a little. "But I promise that whoever I gets married to now I
will stick to, and do my best to make her happy. But one thing I must
bargain for. I must take care of my little boy, and she must be one as
will look kindly on him."
"I'll forgive you that," cried the delighted widow. "Oh, Jerry, there
ain't many men like you. The boy will not stand in the way."
"When his poor father dies--"
"I hope he'll be spared many years. Oh, Jerry, don't talk about dying
upon such a happy occasion as this," cried the sympathetic woman, the
tears streaming down her face.
"But, my dear creature, we must look forward to it; life is short, and
we must prepare for such things;" saying which he drew forth his
bandana, and gently wiped her eyes. "I've promised to be a father to
poor little Tom, and I'll keep my word; and my wife must be a mother to
him."
"She will, she will do that," sobbed the happy one through her tears,
although she inwardly hoped the child was old enough to walk, as she
hated babies.
"And now you knows how I am situated. Do, my dear Mrs. Shever, tell me
what you think I ought to do; and if you knows a gal as will suit me,
introduce me, and I'll be your everlasting debtor."
The boatswain's widow was somewhat nonplussed by his obtuseness, but
knowing it was "now or never," she motioned him to take a seat before
her; then, averting her face, spoke as follows:--
"Je--hem! Mr. Thompson, I have long looked forward to this here day, and
anticipated the pleasure of your society." (This was correctly
delivered, all but the _here_, according to "The book of Etiquette for
Modern society.") "I knowed" (here she forgot her text, but feeling
equal to the occasion, spoke her own sentiments) "you were always a
manly, beautiful-disposed, noble, generous, A 1, first-rate young
feller, and I felt very much disgusted with some people when I found
they didn't wait for you, and that it was throwing purl before swine for
you to be constant to them."
"You're werry good, marm." Jerry winced a little at the last part of her
remark.
"I thought, here is a generous heart wot will be chucked away on some
good-for-nothing baggage as soon as he lands if I don't do my best for
him."
"How kind of you!" murmured Jerry, looking at the averted face with a
somewhat astonished air. "Go on, marm; go on. I can bear it."
"Well, my dear Je--Mr. Thompson, knowing, as I said before, that some
one had; although I say it of my own sister, married a common carpenter,
after she had been pertickler warned not to do so by--one who is worth a
cart-load of sich--knowing all this, I felt for you, and determined to
do everything in my power to make you happy on your return."
"You're werry, werry kind, marm," mournfully observed her visitor.
"Yes, and, my dear Jerry--Forgive me calling you so."
"I forgive you. There, go on," cried the now wondering acting warrant,
taking her hand by way of encouraging her to proceed.
"Well, my dear Jerry, when I looked around me, I wondered where I could
find a virtuous, good-looking girl, suitable to your mind--"
"That's poetry, dear friend, ain't it?" put in her visitor.
"I saw painted faces, false figgers, flaunting airs, brazen-nosed
impudence, and, nothing but sham--all--everywhere."
"There ain't much sham about you," admiringly observed Thompson,
glancing at her tightly-fitting silk dress, which set off her buxom
figure to great advantage.
Mrs. Shever pretended not to hear this compliment, but continued--"Well,
dear Jerry, I saw all this, and I said to myself, 'Now, I wonder if some
good, kind, loving, devoted, amiable, not bad-looking, affectionate,
well-to-do girl were to be willing--would he--make her a offer?'"
At this juncture the face of Thompson, who now began to what is vulgarly
termed "smell a rat," assumed a roguish expression, and, quietly,
pushing his finger into her side, he laughingly observed, "I say, Missis
S., you don't mean to say _you_ want to sacrifice yourself agin, do
you?"
Mrs. Shever blushed violently, but being determined to carry it through,
she fell into his arms, called him her own Jerry, and vowed he was a
perfect "Dom Juam."
Thompson quietly unwound the somewhat impulsive lady, and having placed
the table between them, was about to speak, when Mrs. Shever, finding
her shots had fallen wide, and hearing Mary Ann's voice in the hall,
suddenly assumed a severe air, and ordered him to leave the apartment.
"You quit, sir, and never dare insult me" (here the door was opened, and
Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins looked wonderingly in) "in my own house again.
Begone, false serpent, and lay your base snares for some other innocent
heart! Villain, I scorn you! Clear out, or I send for a police to remove
you from my premises."
"Wot's the row?" demanded the carpenter, looking at Jerry, as if he
would like to challenge him to mortal combat.
"That base man has insulted me," screamed the boatswain's widow, who
then pretended to faint, thinking the gentlemen would now settle the
affair by an appeal to arms.
"Come, come, 'Melia, this won't do," put in Mary Ann; "you know Mr.
Thompson don't care for you, and never did; and you've set your cap at
him, and have been refused, and serve you right."
"Did you write this poetry to me, Mrs. Mary Ann?" demanded the acting
warrant, producing Mrs. Shever's poetical effusion.
"No, Mr. Thompson, I didn't," emphatically replied the lady.
"Did you write this ere letter to me?" handing her the note which he had
received that morning.
"No, Mr. Thompson, I'll swear I didn't. I don't write no letters to
young men now I'm married."
Finding matters were going against her, and not wishing for any further
explanation, Mrs. Shever got up from the sofa, dried her eyes, and
walking to Mrs. Jenkins kissed her affectionately, and begged she would
not say any more about it, as she had been very foolish, and now saw
through her folly. Then, turning to Jerry, asked him, for the sake of
old times, and him as was dead and gone, to forgive her, and forget she
had been such a fool.
Thompson gladly made up matters, and explained to the still somewhat
bewildered Jenkins that he felt the greatest admiration for both the
ladies present,--one being still an out-and-out handsome woman, and as
such to be admired by the opposite sex; while the other was, to his
mind, the werry _idle_ of a comely mother.
This somewhat mixed compliment soothed the carpenter's irritated
feelings, and after a general hand-shaking the party proceeded to the
supper-table, where they attacked the good things in a most praiseworthy
manner, and Jerry saw with no little amusement that her disappointment
had not taken away the widow's appetite.
Mrs. Shever came out quite nobly, and pledged Mr. Thompson's health in a
glass of sherry, wishing him speedily "a good partner;" while Jerry, not
to be outdone, toasted "The fair widow, and may she soon again be a
happy wife." Of course there was no allusion to her little mistake, and
the casual visitors who dropped in imagined it was "all right," and were
a few days afterwards much astonished to hear that Mrs. Shever had
changed her mind.
The buxom widow did not fret about her failure, but went into society,
and turned men's heads with such success that in a few weeks the
"Portsmouth Times" had the following announcement in its list of
marriages:--
"On the 23rd instant, at Mount Hope Chapel, by the Rev. Mr. Barryl,
Amelia, widow of the late Mr. Henry Shever, formerly of H.M. Royal Navy,
to Orlando Huffers, an eminent retired grocer of this place."
Mr. Thompson walked down to his ship, pondering upon the vanity of all
things, and of Mrs. Shever in particular; and as he turned in that night
vowed he would shun the sex in future, as there was no one in the world
like A-tae, and he was tired of the women.
[Illustration: Decoration]