I left my mother, at the end of the last chapter, standing in the middle
of the back parlour of Mr Schank's cottage, her Irish admirer, Mr
Gillooly, scampering up the lane as fast as his two legs would carry
him, the stranger who accompanied me from Portsmouth having just before,
most opportunely for me, sprung through the window and saved me from the
effects of that worthy's anger.
I had no disposition to follow him; indeed, I had a matter of far more
interest to occupy my attention at the moment. My mother sank into a
chair. I sprang forward to embrace her, and while she threw one of her
arms round my neck, she pointed at the stranger, exclaiming:
"Is it real, or am I in a dream? Who are you? Say! Say! Do not mock
me!"
"Polly, you are my own true loving wife, and I am your live husband--
your faithful Dick Burton!" exclaimed my father, for he it was in
reality, as he came forward and took my mother in his arms.
"No wonder you thought me dead, Mary, and a long yarn I have to tell
you, how it all happened. And is this young gentleman Ben, our Ben?" he
asked, as he put his arm round my neck and kissed me on the brow. "I
know it is; yet if I had not seen him here I should not have known him.
Well, to see him a quarter-deck officer, and on the road to promotion,
and you, Mary, alive and well, and as young looking as ever, repays me
for all I have gone through, and that's no trifle."
Now, most women under the trying circumstances I have described would
have fainted away or gone into hysterics, but my mother did neither one
nor the other. Perhaps we had to thank Mr Gillooly for saving her from
such a result. My idea is the agitation which that worthy gentleman had
put her into counteracted the effects which might have been produced,
first from my sudden appearance, and then by the unlooked-for return of
my father. I do not mean to say that she was not agitated, and was very
nearly fainting, but she did not faint; indeed, her nerves stood the
trial in a most wonderful manner. After I had been with my mother and
my newly-found father for some time, I bethought me that I ought to go
and pay my respects to Mrs Schank and to Miss Emily, who, my mother
told me, was sitting with her; I therefore went to the drawing-room
door, and, tapping, asked if I might enter.
"Come in," said a sweet voice. The owner of the sweet voice started
when she saw me, for she was evidently uncertain who I could be, while
the old lady peered at me through her spectacles.
Emily, however, coming forward, put out her hand.
"How delightful! You are welcome back, Ben!" she exclaimed. "I mean
Mr Burton. It is Mr Ben Burton, ma'am," she said in a higher key, and
turning to the old lady.
"Ah, Ben! You are grown indeed, and you are welcome, lad. You are
always welcome," she added after a minute, and made some inquiries of
her son. "And you have come back in the very nick of time, for there is
an Irish gentleman wants to marry your mother, and we do not like him,
do we, Emily?"
"Oh! No, no," said Emily, shaking her head; "it would never do." This
gave me the opportunity of saying that Mr Gillooly had taken his
departure, and also that there was another very strong reason for my
mother's not marrying him--the return of my father. The old lady's
astonishment knew no bounds on hearing this. "And my girls are out!
Dear me, they will be surprised when they come back. What a pity they
should not have been here. It is a mercy your mother did not faint away
altogether. And he is actually in the next room. Your father, who has
been killed so many years!"
"They thought he was killed, ma'am," exclaimed Emily. "He could not
have been killed or he would not be here!"
"No! To be sure! To be sure!" said the old lady. "That is very clear,
and very wonderful it is; but if he had been killed it would be still
more wonderful! Well, I am very glad he has come back." After a little
time I went back to my father and mother, and brought him in to see Mrs
Schank and the Little Lady, both of whom welcomed him cordially. I
inquired after Mrs Lindars.
"She is much as usual," answered Emily, "but she looks almost as old as
grandmamma. You know I call Mrs Schank grandmamma now. She really is
like a grandmother to me, and the Misses Schank are like kind aunts,
though I look upon your mother, Ben, quite as a mother, for one she has
been to me all my life."
I was doubtful how I ought to convey her husband's message to Mrs
Lindars. Indeed, I felt that it would be a very difficult task.
However, it was managed. I determined first to consult my mother and
the poor lady's sisters. At length they returned, and various were the
notes of exclamation and astonishment with which they heard of the
existence and return of my father, and still more so when they saw him.
"Well, I must say you are a very substantial, good-looking ghost," said
Miss Anna Maria, in her funny, chirruping voice, "and a much better
husband you will make her, I am sure, than that strange Irishman who has
been haunting the village for the last week."
"Thank you, miss," said my father, looking affectionately at my mother.
"And you must stay here as long as you can, Mister Burton," said old
Mrs Schank.
"Thank you again, ma'am. I shall be in no hurry to leave my wife now I
have come back to her," he said, with a sailor's bow.
"But we want to know, Mr Burton, where you have been, and what you have
been about," said Miss Martha Schank.
"That would take up a long time, but I will try and satisfy you ladies
as soon as you are ready to hear."
"As to going to bed without some notion, we should not sleep a wink all
night for thinking of it, and not be sure, after all, whether you are
yourself, or your ghost, or somebody else," exclaimed the Misses Schank
almost in chorus, Miss Anna Maria adding the last remark: "We heard that
you were knocked overboard and killed attacking a French ship off the
coast of Italy. Was that not the case?"
"It is all very true that I was knocked overboard," said my father.
"But had I been killed, I do not think I should be here. The fact is,
that when I fell into the water I came to myself, and not being able to
reach the boats I got hold of the rudder chains of the vessel we had
hoped to capture. There I hung on till the anger of the Frenchmen had
somewhat cooled down, and then, finding I could hold on no longer, I
sang out, and asked them to take me on board. They did so, and there
being a surgeon in the ship, he dressed my wounds. They treated me
pretty fairly till I got well, I must say that for them, but after that
they sent me to a French prison. Unfortunately I had no money in my
pocket, and was unable to buy paper to write a letter. What with the
hard treatment I received, and the thoughts that my wife and child were
left without anybody to look after them, I fell sick, and remained
between life and death for many months. A kind French widow and her
daughter took compassion on me, and by their means my life was saved. I
after this wrote several times, but my letters must have been treated as
were many others, and were never sent. I should, however, in time have
got my freedom, but I fell in with an English officer who was going to
be married, he told me, to a beautiful young lady, just when he was
taken, and now she would have to wait for him for many years, or perhaps
go and marry somebody else, thinking he was dead. He would, he said,
give everything to make his escape, so I promised to help him, which I
wished to do for his own sake. But I thought also that I might get away
myself. It would be a long yarn if I was to tell you all our plans, and
all the tricks we had to play to get out of prison. At last, however,
we managed to get free and stand outside the walls of the town. He
could talk French like a Frenchman, but I could not say a word. We were
both dressed as countrymen--he of the better sort, and I, as a lout,
born deaf and dumb. This did very well for some time, and whether or no
the country people suspected us I cannot say, but I rather think they
did, though many of them were very kind to Englishmen, and would gladly
have helped them to escape if they dared. We worked our way north,
travelling by unfrequented paths, or, when we had to take to the high
road, going on generally at night. We got into high spirits, thinking
that all would be right. This made us careless, when one day, just as
we were leaving the town, a party of their abominable gendarmes pounced
upon us. The captain showed great surprise, and wondered why they
should lay hold of two innocent people. This was of no use, however.
They soon showed him they knew who we were, and we were marched back to
prison, looking very foolish, and the next morning sent off, with
several other prisoners, to the place we had escaped from. There we
were kept closely shut up. It was very hard and very cruel in them,
just because we wanted to get our liberty. I made several other
attempts, for I was determined to get free if I could. Life was worth
nothing away from my wife and child. At last I succeeded with two
others--an officer and another man. We reached the coast, cut out a
small boat, and were making our way across the Channel when we were
picked up by a man-of-war. It had come on to blow very heavy. Our boat
was swamped alongside, and, as she was outward bound, we had to go away
in her. I entered on board. We took several prizes, and I filled my
empty pockets with gold. I was one of the prize crew of the first
man-of-war we took worth sending home, and at last I once more set foot
on the shores of England. As soon as I was free of the ship I came down
here. There you have my history; I will tell you more particulars
another day. It may serve, however, to convince you that I am no ghost,
or that if I am, I am a big liar, saving your pardons, ladies, and that
is what Dick Burton never was. Besides, I have an idea that my wife
believes me, at all events. Don't you, Polly?"
Following my father's example, I must be somewhat brief in the remainder
of my yarn. I should say, that soon after his arrival he and my mother
took a cottage which happened to be vacant in the village. He
fortunately had a considerable amount of prize-money and pay due to him,
for which it appeared my mother had neglected to draw, and with this, in
addition to what he had lately obtained, he was well able to keep house.
Mrs and the Misses Schank, however, insisted upon my remaining with
them, which, as may be supposed, I was very glad to do.
I spent a very happy time at Whithyford. Little Emily was my constant
companion, and every day I was with her. I learned to love her more and
more. At first we talked of being brother and sister, but we knew we
were not, and somehow or other in time we came to leave off calling each
other so. After this, at first I called her for a few days Miss Emily,
but I soon dropped that again. Then I began to talk of how I was going
to rise in my profession, and make heaps of prize-money, and I scarcely
know, indeed, what I was going to do and be. There was Lord
Collingwood, and Lord Nelson, and Lord Saint Vincent, and old Lord
Camperdown, who had all been midshipmen once on a time, and were
admirals and lords, and why should I not be a lord too? Emily, of
course, thought that I should be, and I am not quite certain that we did
not choose a title. I was to be Baron Burton of Whithyford, and I took
to calling her Lady Burton, and sometimes Lady Whithyford. I do not
mind confessing this now. It did no harm, and at all events made us
very happy. Why should not people be happy when happiness is so easily
obtained--by a little exercise of the imagination? I quite forgot to
mention my mother's devout admirer, Mr Gillooly. On inquiring the next
morning after our arrival of what had become of him, we found that he
had been taken ill and was laid up in bed; so it was said at the
"Wheatsheaf," where he remained for some time under the tender care of
Mrs Fowler. When he recovered, unwilling to go back to Ireland without
an English wife, which he promised he would bring, I rather think to
spite some Irish fair one who had refused him, as a reward to the
landlady for all her kindness, he made her an offer of his hand, which
she accepted. They were married shortly afterwards. She disposed of
her establishment, and, dressed in a new satin gown of the gayest
colours, accompanied him back, not only as a blooming bride, but, as
Anna Maria observed, a thoroughly full-blown one, to become the mistress
of Ballyswiggan Hall. When Mr Schank at last came home, there was a
great rejoicing, and two days afterwards the postman's knock was heard
at the door, and Emily, running out, brought back a long official
looking letter.
"It has come at last," he exclaimed, and his voice showed more emotion
than he was wont to exhibit. "Oliver is a fine fellow; I knew he would
do his best;" and holding up the letter to us all, we saw it was
addressed to Commander Schank. "And now the next thing they must do is
to give me a ship and post me, and then, mother, I may perhaps do
something to place you and my sisters in the position you ought to
occupy, and make you all comfortable to the end of your days."
"No, no, Jack! We are as well off as we wish to be. You must marry as
you said you would. We would far rather see you married happily than
change to the finest house in London."
"No, no, sisters," he answered, and something very like a sigh burst
from his heart. "I once had a dream, but that has passed. I shall
marry my ship when I get one, and I hope never to lose her while I have
life."
Captain Schank was known to be too good an officer to be allowed to
remain long unemployed, or I should say Captain Oliver was too zealous a
friend to allow his merits to be passed by. At length another letter
arrived, appointing him to the command of a fine brig sloop just off the
stocks at Portsmouth. He was at once to go down and commission her, and
fit her for sea.
"Ben," he said, "Captain Oliver writes me too that you will be appointed
to her. You have only one year to serve, and after that he hopes you
will get your commission. If the Ministry keeps in and he lives, his
hopes will, I am very sure, come true. Oldershaw, as you know, is
promoted, and has been appointed Second-Lieutenant of her. The
First-Lieutenant is a stranger to me. I see he has been a good many
years at sea as First-Lieutenant; but he may not be the worse as a
First-Lieutenant on that account I hope. I must get your father to come
down to Portsmouth, to help me pick up hands for the brig Oliver hopes
to get him a berth on board a ship in ordinary, as some recompense to
him for his long imprisonment, and for his gallant efforts to assist the
Honourable Captain Burgoyne in escaping from prison.
"You should not miss the opportunity of seeing a ship fitted out. Take
my advice. Make yourself practically acquainted with everything on
board, from stowing the hold to rigging the topgallant masts." The next
day Mr Schank started for Portsmouth, telling me to be prepared to
follow him in the course of a few days.