_Noteworthy Deed of a Boy taught of a Woman_
I am now coming, _Hew_, to what hindered me of seeing the Shew in
_Clerkenwell_ on St. _Bartholomew's_ Day. Man proposes, but GOD
disposes: all Things are overruled for Good to them that love him—I'm
sure I found it so in this Case.
The Weather was now excessive hot: _Miles_ and I used to take Boat
whenever we had a spare Evening, and practice Swimming off _Battersea_.
Also, we sometimes bathed in _Perilous Pond_, wherein many 'Prentices
are yearly drowned; hard by the Well of Dame _Annis_ the Clear.
As for _Tomkins_, his whole Soul was in the making of the queerest Watch
that ever was seen; howbeit, clumsy as it was, he at last made it go;
though it never could keep up with St. _Magnus_' Clock.
Master _Hewet_ was anxious, one Forenoon, to communicate by Letter with
an Agent on the Point of embarquing for _Callice_. I had a Race against
Time to the Quay, sped my Errand, and returned beneath a broiling
Noon-day Sun. When I got back, I was overheated and very thirsty, and
thought I would step into the Kitchen for a Drink of cold Water. I had
pulled off my warm blue Gown to cool myself, and went into the Kitchen
with it hanging on my Arm. Leaning forth of the Lattice, according unto
her Wont, was _Tib_, a parleying with the next Door Servant; and with
her left Arm cast about the Waist of Mistress _Anne_, who sate on the
Window-sill with her Back to the River. On seeing me come in, the little
Maiden clapped her Hands, which startling _Tib_, who supposed herself
caught by Mistress _Fraunces_, she maketh no more Ado, but turns short
round in a Flurry, giving a Lurch with her left Arm that cast the pretty
Innocent headlong into the River. I remember _Tib_ squealed; but without
a second Thought, I dropped my Gown that so luckily was off, and took a
Leap that was clean sixty Feet into the River, without so much as a
Thought what I should do when I got there. I remember the Blow the Water
gave my Head, and what a Way I went down, and how I bobbed up again, as
Providence would have it, with the dear little Fondling within
Arm's-length of me, drifting towards the Fall beyond the Arch. I
clutched at her by the pretty Waist, just as the Eddy was going to suck
her in, and, striking out once or twice with the other Arm, though the
Rapids were bearing me down horribly, found myself the next Minute a
clinging on to the Sterling, without Power to climb up it, so spent was
I, and feeling as if I must lose Hold of little _Anne_ after all! I wot
not how much of the Noise I then seemed to hear was the Water singing in
mine Ears, and the Uproar of the Falls; howbeit, there were People
hallooing above and around, and my Master's Voice a-top of all, from the
Parlour Window, overhead, crying, "Hold on, _Ned_, for thy Life! we'll
save you, my brave Boy! Cling to him, _Anne_, if he can't cling to thee!"
[Illustration: "And took a leap"]
And, before this, there had been a Roar, as if through a Speaking-trumpet,
of "Boat a-hoy!" and I heard Oars plashing fast, though I could not
spare Strength to turn my Head to see how near Help was. Then a rough,
kindly Hand laid hold of me from behind; and, finding I had no Power to
help myself, the Waterman took me under the Arms, and lifted me clean
into the Boat, with the dear little Girl hanging about my Neck. Oh! what
a Cheer there was! I heard it then, _I hear it now_: it came from around
and from above, as if GOD'S Angels were hovering over us. We were rowed
swiftly to the Landing, where there was a Press of People that mutely
fell back to make Way for Master _Hewet_, as he ran down the Stairs. For
he was greatly loved along the Bridge. He would have caught little
_Anne_ from me; but I could neither speak nor let her go; and he sayth,
"So best!" and burst forth into Tears. That sett off all the rest; and
when some one afterwards said, "Wherefore cheered ye him not when he
came a-land?" another made Answer, "How could we? all were in Tears." So
I went along, carrying little _Anne_, still fast to my Neck, with her
Cheek close pressed to mine, and they said, "It's all right, it's his
Triumph." But I thought not so much of any Triumph, just then, as how
thankful I was to GOD. When we got to the House, Mistress _Fraunces_
took the poor, drenched Innocent from mine Arms; and Master _Hewet_,
taking me round the Neck, absolutely kissed me. Which was a memorable
Thing for a Master to do by his 'Prentice. Only, you see, I had saved
his Daughter.
Well, that Evening was spent betwixt laughing and crying—scolding
_Tib_, and _Tib's_ saying she must leave, and Mistress _Fraunces_ saying
no one would take her with such a Character as she must give her; and
then my Master interfering and saying she must go for a While at least,
to her Friends, till he could endure the Sight of her, and then _Tib_
crying and saying she had got no Friends, and his relenting and saying,
Well, then she must stay till she could get another Place, and keep out
of his Sight all she could, and never do so any more. Then came Supper,
I waiting on my Master, and Mistress _Anne_ nestled in his Arms in a
warm Wrapper, for she said if she went to Bed she should dream of
falling into the Water. And my Master liked to feel he had her safe, and
she and I exchanged many fond Looks; and we grew merry. For Master
_Hewet_ filled me a Cup from a long, narrow-necked Bottle of some
marvellous pleasant Wine, and Mistress _Fraunces_ helped us all round to
a Cake that had ne'er its like for Richness; and there were People
dropping in to inquire, and bewail, and felicitate. So the Bottle was
soon emptied; and when I went to Bed, my Head was in a Maze, and my
Temples beating like Blacksmiths' Hammers. As for Sleep!—whenever it
came nigh me, bang went mine Head against the Water!—and I rose up with
a great Start. While, as long as I lay awake, I heard (and saw too, with
mine Eyes ever so close shut), People cheering and crying and casting
Ropes, and leaning out of Lattices, and rowing Boats that made no Way;
and felt _Anne's_ Arm slipping from my Neck, and I with no Strength to
hold her; and, through and above all, the great Bell of St. _Magnus_
clanging and tolling, through the livelong Night.
But, what was very marvellous, when Morning came at last, and, I
suppose, I awoke, though it seemed me I had never fallen on Sleep, ...
there was I, not in the Loft, but in the Green Lattice Chamber, lying on
that beautiful Bed I thought fit for the Sleeping Beauty! And there was
a Chirurgeon with a Lancet in his Hand, and there were Basins and
Bandages, and my left Arm was stiffened, and I felt very weak. Mistress
_Fraunces_ had her Arm aneath mine Head, and my Master, with his grave,
kind Face, stood a-foot of the Bed. And, to my great Surprise, I heard
_Twelve o' the Clock_ striking on the Bell of St. _Magnus_, and, I
think, every other Clock in _London_, my Hearing seemed so tender; and
the Phlebotomist sayth, "He'll do, now.—Next Time you leap from such a
height, my Boy, clasp thine Hands a-top of thine Head. Howbeit, you will
now soon get well."
—But oh! I did not soon get well. For I wot not what had come over me,
... none of us ever could rightly tell, ... whether the sudden Chill
after being so hot, or the Plunge from so great an Height, or the Turn
of my Blood with Fright at seeing _Anne_ fall in, ... but as soon as
ever I essayed to arise and dress, my Master and _Tomkins_ being by, I
began tumbling about and could neither hear nor see; leastwise Nothing
that was really to be seen and heard. And with such fearsome Pains in my
Head! So hot, and yet so cold! Such Thirst, and such loathing of Food!
In short, I was sick nigh to Death of what the Leeches call Brain Fever.
Thereon the Kindness I received is past all telling. Mistress _Fraunces_
seemed never out of Sight. Also _Tib_ was very handy and officious,
never minding climbing ever so many Stairs. And _Miles_ did the odd Work
for all, spake under his Voice, and went about without his Shoes. At
dead o' Night, I sometimes saw my Master at the Bed-foot, reading his
_Tyndal's_ Testament, (one o' the few that scaped burning,) with the
Lamp shaded so as not to shine into mine Eyes. At other Times,
_Tomkins_. But his Book was never the Testament.
One Night, when the latter was with me alone, I said suddenly,
"_Tomkins_! the Night is far spent, the Day is at Hand!" ... "No, Lad,"
quod he, "it wants many Hours yet to Day. It hath but just struck
eleven." "Ah, but," quod I, "those Words I used are Scripture, I think,
for I heard Master _Hewet_, as he sate a-reading, whisper them over to
himself. Do look out for them, will you, that I may know I was not
dreaming. They worry me."
_Tomkins_ did not much like the Talk; howbeit, he laid down his own
Book, and turned over the other.
"I don't see them," quod he.
"How _can_ you, in the Dark?" quod I.
"I'm not in the Dark!" quod he.
"Well then," quod I, turning on my Pillow restlessly, "I suppose _I_ am.
I thought you had been, but peradventure I'm wandering again."
After long Silence, he sayth, in a Voice hushed, and quite altered, "I
have them now ... they are close to your Master's Mark." And continued
reading.
After a While, I saw him turn back again to his Starting-point, and sit
in a Muze, with his Eyes fixed; and after that, read again.
I said softly to him, presently, "_Tomkins_, where do you go on Sundays?"
"Who spoke?" cried he with a Start.
"_I_ did," quod I. "Who else _should_ speak?"
"Thy Voice sounded so low and sweet, Boy," quod he, recovering himself,
"that I wist not it was thine."
"Well, but," persisted I, "where _do_ you go on Sundays?"
"Not to Church," answered he, after a Pause.
"But why not, _Tomkins_? Hast thou not a Soul to be saved, as much as
we?"
"As much, no more," returned he, "if we _have_ any Souls."
"Oh!" cried I, half starting up, but obliged to fall back again
directly, "could a Man without a Soul _make a Watch_?"
"Well," quod he, after a Pause, "there you pose me. But all, all is
dark."
"_Tomkins!_" cried I, "you make my Head ache ready to split, and my
Eyeballs seem too big for mine Eye-lids to shut over them. So hot, too,
as they are! I cannot argue with you. But, oh, _Tomkins_! if all is
dark, remember that 'the Night is far spent, the Day is at Hand!'"
"So this Book sayeth," rejoined he, thoughtfully.
"Well," said I, sighing, "I shall soon know."
"_Know?_ why?"
"Why, because, _Tomkins_, I think I am very likely dying ... and then,
if I have no Soul, where do you think I shall go to?"
"I think," quod he, drawing his Hand across his Eyes, "that _you_ will
go to Heaven ... if there be such a Place."
"I think so too, and feel sure of it," said I.
"What makes you feel sure?" quod he.
"Well," quod I, "I seem to have a sort of Witness in myself."
"I wish I had," quod he, sighing deeply: and returned to his Reading.
"What have you come to, now?" quod I presently, seeing him stop.
"_Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven_," quod _Tomkins_.
"Such? what?"
"Little Children, like Mistress _Anne_ ... and Lads like you."
"Ah!" said I, "if I had not got her out of the Water, she'd have been in
Heaven now."
"I suppose you don't want her to _be_ there, though?" said _Tomkins_.
"Time enough for that—she'll go there when her Hour comes."
"Oh! then you think there _is_ such a Place to go to, do you?"
"For you and for her," quod he, cautiously.
"You say that to humour me, I fear, _Tomkins_, because I am ill. If
there be such a Place for us, why not for you?"
"Lad, you must keep quiet, and not talk so, or you'll go there sooner
than I wish."
"Well, I am glad thou admittest there is such a Place," returned I,
beginning to feel greatly spent. "Only I wish you felt you should go
there too."
"Boy, I'm not good enough," ejaculated he, with a shake of the Head.
"Ah, if you feel that, I don't despair of you," quod I. "There's Hope
for those that feel like forgiven Sinners or unforgiven Sinners: the
only hopeless ones are those that don't feel Sinners at all. And now,
_Tomkins_, just give me Something to drink."
He did so, holding up my Head on his Arm. "Is there Anything else," quod
he, "I can do for thee?"
"Why, yes," quod I, wistfully, "and then I think I could go to sleep."
"What is it?" saith he very kindly. "I'll do it for thee."
—"_Tomkins_, is it St. _Bartholomew's_ Eve yet? my Head is confused."
"_Bartholomew's_ Eve, Lad? Why, that's passed!"
"Oh me! ... how long?"
"Oh, not many Days—"
"Days?" And I felt so lost.
—"Then, the Swifts are gone!" said I.
"Well, don't let's think about the Swifts," quod he gently. "_Tempus
fugit_, as the Dial-plate says. What is it thou wilt have me to do?"
"_Tomkins!_"—and I reached his Ear down to me as he leant over me,
"I've been so weak and so queer ever since I fell into the Water, that I
don't believe, at least I can't remember having once said my Prayers ...
will you say one for me?"
"I can't, Boy," and a hot Tear fell on my Face.
"Oh, yes, you can! ... and then I should sleep quietly—Ever so short an
one!—"
"I can't remember _one_" said he, turning away his Head.
"Not one? Oh, _Tomkins_, indeed, indeed you must! For _my_ Sake—Just
this short one ... 'GOD be merciful to me, a Sinner!'"
"GOD be merciful to me, a Sinner," repeated he, bursting forth into
Weeping; and I drew his Face down yet closer unto mine. "Thank you,
_Tomkins_" quod I; "now I shall sleep soundly." And I slept.