I interrupted my narrative with an account of Mr Jonas Quelch's
adventures, with which I shortly afterwards became acquainted. I wish I
could describe the ball which followed the dinner I have already
mentioned; how perseveringly the ladies danced country dances and jigs,
and how furiously the gentlemen flung about, sprang here and there,
rushed up and down the room, and performed antics of every possible
description, such as might have astonished the more sober professors of
the art across the channel. My mother stole into a corner of the room,
where she could see without being observed, and nothing would induce her
to go further. Although Captain. Oliver found her out, and entreated
her to join in what was going forward, she refused to dance even with
him.
"I could not resist joining in the fun as you do, Mrs Burton," said Mr
Schank, "but I am afraid the ladies would object to my hopping up and
down the room, lest I should come down upon their tender feet with my
timber-toe, so I am obliged to abandon the sport I delighted in in my
younger days." Mr Gillooly, also, at length discovered her, and was
far more persevering in his efforts to induce her to take part in the
dance, though with no more success.
"Sure, Mistress Burton, you would not be after breaking a jintleman's
heart, which is as soft as butther whenever he is thinking of you!" he
exclaimed, pressing his hand on his bosom and looking up with an
expression which he intended to be extremely captivating.
"Indeed, Mr Gillooly, but it is more likely that any heart you have got
would be after melting rather than breaking," remarked my mother,
observing the fiery countenance and the violent perspiration into which
her swain had thrown himself. "My dancing days are over, and had I not
supposed that the gentlemen here would have had the good taste not to
press me to do what I dislike, I should not have ventured into the
room."
Nothing abashed, however, by this answer, Mr Gillooly continued to pour
out his compliments into my mother's ear, and she had to be still more
explicit before he would receive a refusal. At length he left her, and
was soon afterwards seen rushing about, as before, with one of my aunts,
or with some other young lady of equal powers of endurance. Captain
Oliver, after this, sat himself down by my mother's side.
"Your boy has grown into a fine big lad," he observed, "and though he is
somewhat young, still I think he is strong enough to hold his own in a
midshipman's berth, and if you are disposed to let him go, I am ready to
take him."
"A midshipman's berth!" exclaimed my mother, and a choking feeling came
into her throat. "Surely you cannot intend such advancement to my boy--
the boatswain's son. I never wished him to be above his station, and if
he were to rise to be a boatswain like his dear father, I should be well
contented."
"Do not say that, Mrs Burton. His father was a fine seaman, and would
have been an honour to the quarter-deck himself. I promised to befriend
your boy, and I can do so far more if he is in the rank of a midshipman
than if he is simply one of the ship's boys. From what I see of your
relations and friends, indeed, though to be sure some of their doings
are a little eccentric compared with our English notions, yet their
position is such that their young relative should be placed in the rank
of a gentleman. Say no more about it, I will assist him, and so I am
sure will Mr Schank, in procuring his necessary outfit. That matter,
therefore, need not trouble you, and I hope in a short time that he will
pick up so much, prize-money that he will be able to support himself
till he attains the rank of Lieutenant."
Of course my mother could offer no objection to this very generous
proposal. All she pleaded was, that I might remain a short time longer
with her on shore. Lieutenant Schank then came in with a proposal which
he had to make. It was that she should return to his mother's house,
where I might employ my time to advantage in obtaining the instruction
which I could not get at Ballybruree. This offer she gladly accepted.
Indeed, she told me that she had herself thought of returning to
Whithyford, in order to avoid the persevering addresses of Mr Gillooly
and her other admirers. The frigate was to remain on the coast for a
week or ten days, after which time she had been ordered to go round to
Portsmouth to refit. Captain Oliver, therefore, kindly offered my
mother and me a passage, should she in the meantime be able to make
arrangements for her departure. For this proposal she was very
grateful. A journey across the whole width of Ireland and England was
both difficult, hazardous, and very expensive, if performed in a
comfortable manner. I was delighted with the thoughts of meeting again
the Little Lady with the kind Misses Schank; for I must confess that the
habits and customs of my relatives did not suit my taste much more than
they did that of my mother. As to the ball, I need not further describe
it. The ladies who came from a distance occupied all the upper rooms in
the house, while the gentlemen were stowed away in the lower rooms and
out-houses, many of them, however, little knowing how they got to bed or
where they were.
Great was the lamentation her friends expressed when my mother's
determination of going to England was made known; indeed, some
considered that a decided insult was offered to her native country. Mr
Gillooly, indeed, made some remarks as to her motives, which certainly
did not further his cause.
We set off the next day for Ballybruree with the rest of our party, my
uncle and aunt inviting us to return to Ballyswiggan, there to remain
till the frigate was ready to take us on board. Mr Tim Laffan, who
showed much good feeling, undertook to dispose of my mother's few
possessions, and in the course of a few days placed in her hands a sum
which she considered even more than their value.
"Well, Mrs Burton, I had hoped other things," he said, as he shook her
warmly by the hand, as she was mounting her pony to proceed to
Ballyswiggan, "but I know enough about ladies' hearts to be aware that
they are more difficult to manage than the toughest lawsuit."
Dan Hogan was away on duty, and we were off before he returned, but
Captain Michael Tracy insisted on walking by my mother's side all the
way to Ballyswiggan; indeed I could not help thinking that if anyone was
to win her heart, he was likely to be the happy man. We had a somewhat
moving scene when bidding farewell to my grandfather and grandmother.
The old gentleman, indeed, wept bitterly as he was apt to do, especially
after his tenth tumbler of whisky and water, provided it was of the full
strength. I need not say anything more about him at present. We
reached Ballyswiggan Castle in safety, the small amount of property my
mother wished to retain following us in a cart. Mr Kilcullin was very
kind, and my aunt promised to write occasionally, and let us know how
the rest of the family got on. She was, indeed, the only one of her
sisters who was much practised in the art of penmanship, the others
having spent most of their time in gaining a knowledge of horseflesh, in
riding up and down the country, and in practising certain very useful
domestic duties. I certainly did feel very proud, and so I think did my
mother, when the boat from the frigate came to fetch us on board, and we
were seated in the stern sheets with our boxes in the bows, a young
midshipman in a fresh bright uniform steering. A short, somewhat stout
man pulled the stroke oar. He looked at my mother very hard. At length
a beaming smile came over his broad countenance, and he could no longer
help giving her a look of recognition. I thought I knew him. He was no
other than my old friend Toby Kiddle. Still, as the midshipman treated
us with so much respect, he evidently thought it did not become him to
address us. Our friends on shore, I should have said, saluted us with
loud shouts as we pushed off. "Long life to Ben Burton!" cried a voice.
"May he live to be an admiral, and an honour to old Ireland, and may he
never forget the land of his ancestors." My mother waved an adieu. Her
heart was too full with a variety of emotions to speak.
"Is Ben Burton your name?" said the midshipman, looking at me. "I
understand you are going to join us. You are a lucky chap, for our ship
is a happy one, and we are likely to see a good deal of service."
When we got on board, one of the first people I set eyes on was Pat
Brady.
"I could not help it, Ben," he said. "Some of the boys got round me and
talked of old times, and faith, though I was living on shore like a
gintleman, after all I could not resist the look of the trim frigate,
and the thoughts of the fighting and the fun on board. But, Ben, I hear
you are to be one of the young gintlemen, and I know my place too well
and your interests ever to be claiming relationship with you. You will
understand that, Ben. If ever you can do me a good turn I am sure you
will, and I need not tell you that when we are boarding an enemy's ship,
and you are in the thickest of the fun, Pat Brady won't be far off your
side. Just tell your mother that, for may be I may not have an
opportunity of speaking to her as I would wish."
"He is a good honest fellow, that cousin of ours," said my mother when I
told her. "It is just like him, and I am very thankful to think that
you have so true a friend among the men. If you behave wisely and
kindly to them, depend upon it you will always be able to get work done,
when others much older than yourself will fail, and that more than
anything else will gain you the approval of your superior officers."
The Third-Lieutenant of the frigate had gone home on sick leave, and his
cabin was given up to my mother. She told me she felt very strange
occupying a berth aft when she had been so long accustomed to one in the
fore-part of the ship. It was satisfactory to see as much attention
paid her as if she had always occupied the position of a lady. Indeed I
may say with satisfaction that she was well deserving of all the
attention paid her, while in her manner and conversation she was
thoroughly the lady. I was said to take after her, and, at the risk of
being considered vain and egotistical, it is satisfactory to believe I
did. "It would be a shame not to place that boy on the quarter-deck," I
heard the Captain observe to Mr Schank one day, when he was not aware
how near I was. "He looks, and is, thoroughly the gentleman, and will
make a smart young officer, depend on that."
I was delighted to find myself on board ship again, and if the choice
had been given me I suspect that I should have remained rather than have
accompanied my mother back to Whithyford. After we had doubled Cape
Clear a sail hove in sight, to which we gave chase. She was a large
brig, and soon showed us that she had a fast pair of heels, by keeping
well ahead. All sail was pressed on the frigate, and yet, after chasing
several hours, we appeared to be no nearer to her. Still Captain Oliver
was not a man to strike to an enemy, or to give up a chance of making a
prize as long as the slightest possibility of doing so remained. All
night long we kept in her wake; she probably expecting a fog, or a
change of wind, or some other circumstance to enable her to alter her
course without being perceived by us. The night, however, was very
clear, and when morning broke there she was still ahead. It was
evident, also, that we had gained on her considerably.
"I say, Ben, our skipper and First-Lieutenant are licking their lips at
the thoughts of the prize we shall pick up before the day is many hours
older," observed my friend Tom Twigg, the midshipman who steered the
boat which brought us on board; he had ever since then marked me as an
object of his especial favour. He was a merry little fellow, with the
funniest round face, and round eyes, and round nose possible. He often
got into scrapes; but he declared that, like a hedgehog or slater, or
woodlouse, he always managed to roll himself out of them. "I rather
think the skipper has entered you on the books that you may have a share
in the prize we are going to make," he observed. "It will not be very
great, but it is something, and no man on board will grudge it you."
About noon we got the brig under our guns, when she hauled down her
colours, and proved to be a richly-laden Letter of Marque. It was very
pleasant returning into port with her, and this circumstance put
everybody on board in good humour, the Captain and Lieutenant Schank
especially, who of course had large shares.
"I wish I could accompany you, Mrs Burton," said Mr Schank, when we
reached Portsmouth; "but that is impossible. You must let me frank you
up, however, to my mother's. I dare say by this time you pretty well
know how to manage on the road. Pay the postboys well, and take care
that youngster does not tumble off the roof and break his neck." Of
course my mother thanked the Captain and all the officers for the
kindness she had received on board. They insisted on her saying nothing
about the matter; indeed, they declared they had not done enough, and
would not let her go till they had made her accept a purse of gold,
which they declared would have been my father's share of the prize just
taken had he been alive. Lieutenant Schank had written on before to
announce our coming. The old lady, therefore, and the three Misses
Schank were on the look-out for us as our post-chaise drove up to the
cottage, while I saw poor Mrs Lindars looking out at an upper window
from the room she occupied, and there in the midst of the ladies
downstairs was the Little Lady, a perfect little fairy she looked among
the three mature Misses Schank. Miss Anna Maria held her up in her
arms, and the little girl cried out, "Oh! Mamma, mamma, I know you are
my mamma, though I have got four other mammas here." She had grown very
much, and instead of going off in beauty, had become one of the most
perfect little creatures I ever set eyes on. Nothing could be more
hearty than the welcome we received, and the dear old lady told my
mother that she must look upon herself as one of the family, and only
help the other ladies just as much as she felt inclined. Mrs Lindars,
soon after we arrived, begged we would come up, and the Little Lady,
taking me by the hand, led the way. There was something very striking
in the affectionate and tender way the Little Lady addressed Mrs
Lindars; indeed it for the moment struck me that they were something
alike, though one was somewhat advanced in life, and the features of the
other were scarcely yet formed. Mrs Lindars welcomed my mother very
kindly. "And Ben has indeed grown into a fine lad," she observed. "And
Emily, too, you see her greatly improved, Mrs Burton. Ben, you must be
her champion if she requires one. Alas! I fear she will. I trust her
fate may be happier than mine."
"Yes, ma'am, I will fight for her, that I will," I answered, looking at
Emily; "not that I think anyone would ever be so wicked as to try and
harm her." The poor lady smiled sadly and shook her head.
"Beauty is rather a snare than a protection," she observed.
Of course I did not exactly understand her meaning; I heard afterwards,
though I think I have already alluded to the fact, that the poor lady
had, at a very early age, married a foreigner, calling himself Lindars,
and that she had one child, a girl. Her husband, after frequently
absenting himself, returned to Whithyford, when one day he and the child
disappeared. The poor mother was left in an agony of doubt as to what
had become of her infant, persuading herself that it had been murdered.
A letter, however, at length reached her from her husband, saying that
he was on the point of leaving England, and that he purposed carrying
the child with him. From that day she had never received the slightest
intelligence of her husband or daughter. Her brother Jack had been
absent from home at the time of her marriage, and five years passed away
before he again returned, so that he had been unable to assist her in
her inquiries. I was placed for instruction under the care of an old
gentleman residing in the village, who had formerly been a schoolmaster.
He was well able to impart to me the knowledge I most required, and as
I was very anxious to learn, I made considerable progress. My spare
time was spent almost entirely in the company of little Emily. I was
never tired of attending on her. As was then the custom, she wore a
little red mantle as a walking dress. One day we were out in the
fields, when she ran off in chase of a butterfly. At the further end of
the field a bull was grazing, having been turned out to indulge his
sulky humour by himself. The sight of the red cloak fluttering over the
green meadow suddenly excited his rage, and with a loud roar he came
rushing up towards it. I saw the little girl's danger, and quick as
lightning darted towards her. The cloak was fortunately secured by a
very slight string. I tore it off and told her to run on; while,
seizing the cloak, which I at once guessed was the cause of the bull's
rage, I darted off in a different direction. The animal followed, as I
had expected. On he came, however, at a speed which was likely soon to
bring him up to me. It was some distance to the nearest hedge. Towards
that, however, I made my way, as the best means of escape. The bull was
not five yards from me. The hedge was thick and high. Into it or over
it I must go, or run the certainty of a toss. I sprang towards the
hedge. Just at the spot I reached was the stem of a small tree; one
branch alone had escaped the pruner's hatchet. Throwing the cloak
against the hedge, I seized the bough and sprang to the top--not a
pleasant position, considering the brambles of which it was composed.
The bull, with a loud roar, dashed into the hedge below me, into which
he fixed his head, tearing up the ground, and making the bushes shake
all round. I looked out and saw that Emily had reached the gate in
safety; but how to descend was now the difficulty, for if I jumped back
into the field out of which I came the bull would probably again attack
me, whereas, on the other side, I could not descend without the risk of
tearing my clothes and scratching myself with the brambles.
"Thou be a brave lad; I seed it all!" exclaimed a voice near me, and
looking down I saw a person who appeared to be a farmer, standing on the
further side of the hedge.
"Jump into my arms, I'll catch thee, lad," he added, seeing the
predicament in which I was placed. I willingly did as he bid me, and,
caught by his arms, reached the ground in safety. "We must have the
little maiden's cloak, though," he said, laughing. "I will bring up
some of my men, and we will soon handle the old bull." He was as good
as his word. Five or six farm servants soon made their appearance with
a stout rope, which they threw over the bull's neck and led him quietly
off, while, accompanied by the farmer, I passed through a gate a little
way on, and, securing the cloak, crossed the field to where Emily, still
in a great fright, was waiting for me. The farmer insisted on
accompanying us home. He was well-known, I found, to the ladies, and
with great glee he recounted to them my exploit, bestowing more praise
on me, I thought, than I deserved. Emily, however, declared that he was
right, and that if it had not been for me, she was sure the bull would
have tossed her up into the moon, or at all events as high as the moon.
My mother was now busily employed in preparing my outfit, and many a
tear did she shed over her work when she thought that I was soon to be
separated from her. A letter came at length from Captain Oliver, saying
that the frigate was ready for sea, and that I must come at once down to
Portsmouth. Fortunately my friend Farmer Cocks was going up to London,
and undertook to escort me thus far, and from thence he was to see me
off in the coach for Portsmouth. I will not describe my parting. There
was a good deal more crying than I like to think of, and the dear Little
Lady wept till her heart seemed about to break. However, her tears
probably soon dried up, but my poor mother's sorrow was likely to be far
more enduring.
"Thou art a brave, honest lad, Ben Burton," said the good farmer,
pressing a five-pound note into my hand as I was about to mount on the
top of the Portsmouth coach. "Thou wilt have plenty of use for this in
getting thy new clothes for sea; but if not, spend it as thou thinkest
best. I have no fear that thou wilt squander it as some do, and mark
thee, shouldst thou ever want a home to come to, thou wilt always find a
warm welcome at Springfield, from my good dame and me." I pocketed his
gift with a sincere "Thank you," and he wrung my hand warmly, again and
again, until I got fairly out of his reach on to the top of the coach.