Фредерик Марриет
Newton Forster
Chapter XXX
"Now, by two-headed Janus.
Nature hath named strange fellows in her time;
Some that will ever more peep through their eyes,
And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper;
And others of such vinegar aspect,
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable."
SHAKESPEARE.
The next forenoon Nicholas and his son left the inn in good time to keep their appointment. The weather had changed, and the streets through which they passed were crowded with people who had taken advantage of the fine weather to prosecute business which had admitted of being postponed. Nicholas, who stared every way except the right, received many shoves and pushes, at which he expostulated, without the parties taking even the trouble to look behind them as they continued their course. This conduct produced a fit of reverie, out of which he was soon roused by another blow on the shoulder, which would twist him half round; and thus he continued in an alternate state of reverie and excitement, until he was dragged by Newton to his brother's chambers. The clerk, who had been ordered to admit them, opened the parlour door, where they found Mr John Forster, sitting at his table, with his spectacles on, running through a brief.
"Your servant, young man.—Nicholas Forster, I presume," said he, taking his eyes off the brief, and looking at Forster without rising from his chair. "How do you do, brother?"
"Are you my brother John?" interrogated Nicholas.
"I am John Forster," replied the lawyer.
"Well, then, I am really very glad to see you, brother," said Nicholas, extending his hand, which was taken with a "humph!"—(A minute's pause.)
"Young man, you're ten minutes past your time," said John, turning to Newton. "I told you one o'clock precisely."
"I am afraid so," replied Newton; "but the streets were crowded, and my father stopped several times."
"Why did he stop?"
"To expostulate with those who elbowed him: he is not used to it."
"He soon will be if he stays here long. Brother Nicholas," said Forster, turning round; but perceiving that Nicholas had taken up his watch, and was examining the interior, his intended remark was changed. "Brother Nicholas, what are you doing with my watch?"
"It's very dirty," replied Nicholas, continuing his examination; "it must be taken to pieces."
"Indeed it shall not," replied John.
"Don't be alarmed, I'll do it myself, and charge you nothing."
"Indeed you will not do it yourself, brother. My watch goes very well when it's left alone. Do me the favour to hand it to me."
Nicholas shut up the watch, and handed it to his brother over the table. "It ought not to go well in that state, brother."
"But I tell you that it does, brother," replied John, putting the watch into his fob.
"I have brought the things that I mentioned, sir," said Newton, taking them out of his handkerchief.
"Very well; have you the inventory?"
"Yes, sir, here it is."
"No. I, a diamond ring."
"No. 2—"
"I should rather think that they were No. 3," observed Nicholas, who had taken up his brother's spectacles. "You're not very short-sighted, brother."
"I am not, brother Nicholas;—will you oblige me by giving me my spectacles?"
"Yes, I'll wipe them for you first," said Nicholas, commencing his polish with an old cotton handkerchief.
"Thanky, thanky, brother, that will do," replied John, holding out his hand for the spectacles, which he immediately put in the case and conveyed into his pocket. The lawyer then continued the inventory.
"It is all right, young man; I will sign a receipt."
The receipt was signed, and the articles deposited in the iron chest.
"Now, brother Nicholas, I have no time to spare; have you anything to say to me?"
"No," replied Nicholas, starting up.
"Well, then, I have something to say to you. In the first place, I cannot help you in your profession (as I told my nephew yesterday), neither can I afford you any time, which is precious: so good-bye, brother. Here is something for you to read when you go home." John Forster took out his pocket-book, and gave him a sealed letter.
"Nephew, although I never saw the sea, or knew a sailor in my life, yet the law pervades everywhere. An East India director, who is under obligations to me, has promised a situation for you as third mate on board of the Bombay Castle. Here is his address: call upon him, and all will be arranged. You may come here again before you sail; and I expect you will make proper arrangements for your father, who, if I can judge from what I have already seen, will lose that paper I have given him, which contains what is not to be picked up every day." Nicholas was in a deep reverie; the letter had dropped from his hand, and had fallen, unnoticed by him, on the carpet. Newton picked it up, and, without Nicholas observing him, put it into his own pocket. "Now, good-bye, nephew; take away my brother, pray. It's a good thing, I can tell you, sometimes to find out an uncle."
"I trust my conduct will prove me deserving of your kindness," replied Newton, who was overjoyed at the unexpected issue of the meeting.
"I hope it will, young man. Good morning. Now, take away your father, I'm busy;" and old Forster pulled out his spectacles, and recommenced his brief.
Newton went up to his father, touched him on the shoulder, and said in a low tone, and nodding his head towards the door—"Come, father."
Nicholas got upon his legs, retreated a few steps, then turned round—"Brother, didn't you say something about a letter I was to put in the post?"
"No, I didn't," replied John, shortly, not raising his eyes from the brief.
"Well, I really thought I heard something—"
"Come, father; my uncle's busy."
"Well, then, good-bye, brother."
"Good-bye," replied John, without looking up; and Newton with his father, quitted the room.
No conversation passed during the walk to the inn, except an accidental remark of Nicholas, that it appeared to him that his brother was very busy.
When they arrived Newton hastened to open the enclosure, and found in it the draft for £500, which his uncle had ordered to be filled up the day before. Nicholas was lost in astonishment; and Newton, although he had already gained some insight into his uncle's character, was not a little surprised at his extreme liberality.
"Now," cried Nicholas, rubbing his hands, "my improvement upon the duplex;" and the subject brought up by himself again led him away, and he was in deep thought.
There was one little piece of advice upon the envelope—"When you cash the draft take the number of your notes." This was all; and it was carefully attended to by Newton, who took but £20, and left the remainder in the hands of the banker. The next day Newton called on the East India director, who gave him a letter to the captain of the ship, lying at Gravesend, and expecting to sail in a few days. To Gravesend he immediately repaired, and, presenting his credentials, was favourably received, with an intimation that his company was required as soon as convenient. Newton had now no other object to occupy him than to secure an asylum for his father; and this he was fortunate enough to meet with when he little expected. He had disembarked at Greenwich, intending to return to London by the coach, when, having an hour to spare, he sauntered into the hospital, to view a building which had so much of interest to a sailor. After a few minutes' survey he sat down on a bench, occupied by several pensioners, outside of the gate, wishing to enter into conversation with them relative to their condition, when one addressed another—"Why, Stephen, since the old man's dead, there's no one that'll suit us; and I expects that we must contrive to do without blinkers at all. Jim Nelson told me the other day that that fellow in town as has his shop full of polished brass, all the world like the quarter-deck of the Le Amphitrite, when that sucking Honourable (what was his name?) commanded her—Jim said to me, as how he charged him one-and-sixpence for a new piece of flint for his starboard eye. Now you know that old Wilkins never axed no more than threepence. Now, how we're to pay at that rate comes to more than my knowledge. Jim hadn't the dirt, although he had brought his threepence; so his blinkers are left there in limbo."
"We must find out another man; the shop's to let, and all handy. Suppose we speak to the governor?"
"No use to speak to the governor; he don't use blinkers; and so won't have no fellow-feeling."
Newton entered into conversation, and found that an old man, who gained his livelihood in a small shop close to the gate, by repairing the spectacles of the pensioners, had lately died, and that his loss was severely felt by them, as the opticians in town did not work at so reasonable a rate. Newton looked at the shop, which was small and comfortable, commanding a pleasant view of the river; and he was immediately convinced that it would suit his father. On his return he proposed it to Nicholas, who was delighted at the idea; and the next day they viewed the premises together, and took a short lease. In a few days Nicholas was settled in his new habitation, and busily employed in enabling the old pensioners to read the newspapers and count their points at cribbage. He liked his customers, and they liked him. His gains were equal to his wants; and, unless on particular occasions—such as a new coat, which, like his birthday, occurred but once in the year—he never applied to the banker's for assistance. Newton, as soon as his father was settled, and his own affairs arranged, called upon his uncle previous to his embarkation. Old Forster gave a satisfactory "Humph!" to his communication; and Newton, who had tact enough to make his visit short, received a cordial shake of the hand when he quitted the room.
Chapter XXXI
"Poor, short-lived things! what plans we lay!
Ah! why forsake our native home,
To distant climates speed away,
For self sticks close, where'er we roam.
"Care follows hard, and soon o'ertakes
The well-rigg'd ship; the warlike steed
Her destin'd quarry ne'er forsakes:
Nor the wind flees with half the speed."
COWPER.
Newton, who had made every preparation, as soon as he had taken leave of his uncle, hastened to join his ship, which still remained at Gravesend, waiting for the despatches to be closed by the twenty-four leaden heads presiding at Leadenhall Street. The passengers, with the exception of two, a Scotch Presbyterian divine and his wife, were still on shore, divided amongst the inns of the town, unwilling until the last moment to quit terra firma for so many months of sky and water, daily receiving a visit from the captain of the ship, who paid his respects to them all round, imparting any little intelligence he might have received as to the probable time of his departure.
When Newton arrived on board, he was received by the first mate, a rough, good-humoured, and intelligent man, about forty years of age, to whom he had already been introduced by the captain on his previous appearance with the letter from the director.
"Well, Mr Forster, you're in very good time. As in all probability we shall be shipmates for a voyage or two, I trust that we shall be good friends. Now for your traps:" then, turning round, he addressed, in the Hindostanee language, two or three Lascars (fine, olive-coloured men, with black curling bushy hair), who immediately proceeded to hoist in the luggage.
The first mate, with an "excuse me a moment," went forward to give some directions to the English seamen, leaving Forster to look about him. What he observed, we shall describe for the benefit of our readers.
The Indiaman was a twelve-hundred-ton ship, as large as one of the small class seventy-four in the king's service, strongly built, with lofty bulwarks, and pierced on the upper deck for eighteen guns, which were mounted on the quarter-deck and forecastle. Abaft, a poop, higher than the bulwarks, extended forward, between thirty and forty feet, under which was the cuddy or dining-room, and state-cabins, appropriated to passengers. The poop, upon which you ascended by ladders on each side, was crowded with long ranges of coops, tenanted by every variety of domestic fowl, awaiting, in happy unconsciousness, the day when they should be required to supply the luxurious table provided by the captain. In some, turkeys stretched forth their long necks, and tapped the decks as they picked up some ant who crossed it, in his industry. In others, the crowing of cocks and calling of the hens were incessant: or the geese, ranged up rank and file, waited but the signal from one of the party to raise up a simultaneous clamour, which as suddenly was remitted. Coop answered coop, in variety of discord, while the poulterer walked round and round to supply the wants of so many hundreds committed to his charge.
The booms before the main-mast were occupied by the large boats, which had been hoisted in preparatory to the voyage. They also composed a portion of the farmyard. The launch contained about fifty sheep, wedged together so close that it was with difficulty they could find room to twist their jaws round, as they chewed the cud. The stern-sheets of the barge and yawl were filled with goats and two calves, who were the first-destined victims to the butcher's knife; while the remainder of their space was occupied by hay and other provender, pressed down by powerful machinery into the smallest compass. The occasional ba-aing and bleating on the booms were answered by the lowing of three milch-cows between the hatchways of the deck below; where also were to be descried a few more coops, containing fowls and rabbits. The manger forward had been dedicated to the pigs; but, as the cables were not yet unbent or bucklers shipped, they at present were confined by gratings between the main-deck guns, where they grunted at each passer-by, as if to ask for food.
The boats hoisted up on the quarters, and the guys of the davits, to which they were suspended, formed the kitchen-gardens, from which the passengers were to be supplied, and were loaded with bags containing onions, potatoes, turnips, carrots, beets, and cabbages, the latter, in their full round proportions, hanging in a row upon the guys, like strings of heads, which had been demanded in the wrath or the caprice of some despot of Mahomet's creed.
Forster descended the ladder to the main-deck, which he found equally encumbered with cabins for the passengers, trunks and bedding belonging to them, and many other articles which had not yet found their way into the hold, the hatches of which were open, and in which lanterns in every direction partially dispelled the gloom, and offered to his view a confused outline of bales and packages. Carpenters sawing deals, sailmakers roping the foot of an old mainsail, servants passing to and fro with dishes, Lascars jabbering in their own language, British seamen d–g their eyes, as usual, in plain English, gave an idea of confusion and want of method to Newton Forster, which, in a short time, he acknowledged himself to have been premature in having conceived. Where you have to provide for such a number, to separate the luggage of so many parties, from the heavy chest to the fragile bandbox, to take in cargo, and prepare for sea, all at the same time, there must be apparently confusion. In a few days everything finds its place; and, what is of more consequence, is itself to be found as soon as it may be required.
According to the regulations on board of East India ships, Forster messed below with the junior mates, midshipmen, surgeon's assistant, &c.: the first and second mates only having the privilege of constantly appearing at the captain's table, while the others receive but an occasional invitation. Forster soon became on intimate terms with his shipmates. As they will, however, appear upon the stage when required to perform their parts, we shall at present confine ourselves to a description of the captain and the passengers.
Captain Drawlock was a man of about fifty years of age. Report said that in his youth he had been wild; and some of his contemporary commanders in the service were wont to plague him by narrating divers freaks of former days, the recollection of which would create anything but a smile upon his face. Whether report and the other captains were correct or not in their assertions, Captain Drawlock was in appearance quite a different character at the time we introduce him. He was of sedate aspect, seldom smiled, and appeared to be wrapt up in the importance of the trust confided to him, particularly with respect to the young women who were sent out under his protection. He talked much of his responsibility, and divided the whole of his time between his chronometers and his young ladies; in both of which a trifling error was a source of irritation. Upon any deviation on the part of either, the first were rated carefully, the latter were rated soundly; considering the safety of the ship to be endangered on the one hand, and the character of his ship to be equally at stake on the other.' It was maliciously observed that the latter were by far the more erratic of the two; and, still more maliciously, that the austere behaviour on the part of Captain Drawlock was all pretence; that he was as susceptible as the youngest officer in the ship; and that the women found it out long before the voyage was completed.
It has been previously mentioned that all the passengers were on shore, except two, a Presbyterian divine and his wife, the expenses attending whose passage out were provided for by a subscription which had been put on foot by some of the serious people of Glasgow, who prayed fervently, and enlivened their devotions with most excellent punch. The worthy clergyman (for worthy he was) thought of little else but his calling, and was a sincere, enthusiastic man, who was not to be checked by any consideration in what he considered to be his duty; but although he rebuked, he rebuked mildly, and never lost his temper. Stern in his creed, which allowed no loophole by which the offender might escape, still there was a kindness and even a humility in his expostulation, which caused his zeal never to offend, and often to create serious reflection. His wife was a tall, handsome woman, who evidently had usurped an ascendency over her husband in all points unconnected with his calling. She, too, was devout; but hers was not the true religion, for it had not charity for its basis. She was clever and severe; spoke seldom; but the few words which escaped from her lips were sarcastic in their tendency.
The passengers who still remained on shore were numerous. There was an old colonel, returning from a three years' furlough, the major part of which had been spent at Cheltenham. He was an Adonis of sixty, with yellow cheeks and white teeth; a man who had passed through life doing nothing; had risen in his profession without having seen service, except on one occasion, and of that circumstance he made the most. With a good constitution and happy temperament, constantly in society, and constantly in requisition, he had grown old without being aware of it, and considered himself as much an object of interest with the other sex as he was formerly when a gay captain of five-and-twenty, with good prospects. Amusing, and easily amused, he had turned over the pages of the novel of life so uninterruptedly, that he had nearly arrived at the last page without being conscious that the finis was at hand.
Then there were two cadets from the college, full of themselves and their own consequence, fitted out with plenty of money and plenty of advice, both of which were destined to be thrown away. There was also a young writer, who talked of his mother, Lady Elizabeth, and other high relations, who had despatched him to India, that he might be provided for by a cholera morbus or a lucrative post; a matter of perfect indifference to those who had sent him from England. Then, let me see,—oh! there were two officers of a regiment at St Helena, with tongues much longer than their purses; who, in the forepart of the day, condescended to talk nonsense to the fairer of the other sex, and, in the evening, to win a few pounds from the weaker of their own.
But all these were nobodies in the eyes of Captain Drawlock; they were a part of his cargo, for which he was not responsible. The important part of his consignment were four unmarried women; three of them were young, good-looking, and poor; the other ill-favoured, old, but rich.
We must give precedence to wealth and age. The lady last mentioned was a Miss Tavistock, born and educated in the city, where her father had long been at the head of the well-established firm of Tavistock, Bottlecock & Co., Dyers, Calenderers, and Scourers. As we before observed, she was the fortunate sole heiress to her father's accumulation, which might amount to nearly thirty thousand pounds; but had been little gifted by nature. In fact, she was what you may style most preposterously ugly; her figure was large and masculine; her hair red; and her face very deeply indented with the small-pox. As a man, she would have been considered the essence of vulgarity; as a woman, she was the quintessence: so much so, that she had arrived at the age of thirty-six without having, notwithstanding her property, received any attentions which could be construed into an offer. As we always seek most eagerly that which we find most difficult to obtain, she was possessed with une fureur de se marier; and, as a last resource, had resolved to go out to India, where she had been informed that "anything white" was acceptable. This passion for matrimony (for with her it had so become, if not a disease) occupied her whole thoughts; but she attempted to veil them by always pretending to be extremely sensitive and refined; to be shocked at anything which had the slightest allusion to the "increase and multiply;" and constantly lamented the extreme fragility of her constitution; to which her athletic bony frame gave so determined a lie, that her hearers were struck dumb with the barefaced assertion. Miss Tavistock had kept up a correspondence with an old schoolmate, who had been taken away early to join her friends in India, and had there married. As her hopes of matrimony dwindled away, so did her affection for her old friend appear, by her letters, to increase. At last, in answer to a letter, in which she declared that she would like to come out, and (as she had long made a resolution to continue single) adopt one of her friend's children, and pass her days with them, she received an answer, stating how happy they would be to receive her, and personally renew the old friendship, if indeed she could be persuaded to venture upon so long and venturous a passage. Whether this answer was sincere or not, Miss Tavistock took advantage of the invitation; and writing to intimate her speedy arrival, took her passage in the Bombay Castle.
The other three spinsters were sisters: Charlotte, Laura, and Isabel Revel, daughters of the Honourable Mr Revel, a roué of excellent family, who had married for money, and had dissipated all his wife's fortune except the marriage settlement of £600 per annum. Their mother was a selfish, short-sighted, manoeuvring woman, whose great anxiety was to form establishments for her daughters, or, in other terms, remove the expense of their maintenance from her own to the shoulders of other people, very indifferent whether the change might contribute to their happiness or not. Mr Revel may be said to have long deserted his family; he lived nobody knew where, and seldom called, unless it was to "raise the wind" upon his wife, who by entreaties and threats was necessitated to purchase his absence by a sacrifice of more than half her income. Of his daughters he took little notice, when he did make his appearance; and if so, it was generally in terms more calculated to raise the blush of indignant modesty than to stimulate the natural feelings of affection of a daughter towards a parent. Their mother, whose income was not sufficient to meet the demands of a worthless husband, in addition to the necessary expenses attendant on three grown-up women, was unceasing in her attempts to get them off her hands: but we will introduce a conversation which took place between her and a sedate-looking, powdered old gentleman, who had long been considered as a "friend of the family," as thereby more light will perhaps be thrown upon her character.
"The fact is, my dear Mr Heaviside, that I hardly know what to do. Mr Revel, who is very intimate with the theatre people, proposed that they should try their fortune on the stage. He says (and indeed there is some truth in it) that nowadays, the best plan for a man to make himself popular is to be sent to Newgate; and the best chance that a girl has of a coronet, is to become an actress. Well, I did not much like the idea; but at last I consented. Isabel, my youngest, is, you know, very handsome in her person, and sings remarkably well, and we arranged that she should go on first; and, if she succeeded, that her sister Charlotte should follow her; but Isabel is of a very obstinate disposition, and when we proposed it to her, she peremptorily refused, and declared that she would go out as a governess, or anything, rather than consent. I tried what coaxing would do, and her father tried threatening; but all was in vain. This was about a year ago, and she is now only seventeen; but she ever was a most decided, a most obstinate character."
"Very undutiful, indeed, ma'am; she might have been a duchess before this:—a very foolish girl, indeed, ma'am," observed the gentleman.
"Well, Mr Heaviside, we then thought that Charlotte, our eldest, had the next best chance of success. Although not by any means so good-looking as her sister; indeed, to tell you the truth, Mr Heaviside, which I would not do to everybody, but I know that you can keep a secret, Charlotte is now nearly thirty years old, and her sister, Laura, only one year younger."
"Is it possible, madam!" replied Mr Heaviside, looking at the lady with well-feigned astonishment.
"Yes, indeed," replied the lady, who had forgotten that in telling her daughters' secrets, she had let out her own. "But I was married so young, so very young, that I am almost ashamed to think of it. Well Mr Heaviside, as I was saying, although not so good-looking as her sister, Mr Revel, who is a good judge in these matters, declared that by the theatre lights Charlotte would be reckoned a very fine woman. We proposed it to her, and, after a little pouting, she consented. The only difficulty was whether she should attempt tragedy or comedy. Her features were considered rather too sharp for comedy, and her figure not quite tall enough for tragedy. She herself preferred tragedy, which decided the point; and Mr Revel, who knows all the actors, persuaded Mr Y– (you know who I mean, the great tragic actor) to come here, and give his opinion of her recitation. Mr Y– was excessively polite; declared that she was a young lady of great talent, but that a slight lisp, which she has, unfitted her most decidedly for tragedy. Of course, it was abandoned for comedy, which she studied some time, and when we considered her competent, Mr Revel had interest enough to induce the great Mr M– to come and give his opinion. Charlotte performed her part, as I thought, remarkably well, and when she had finished she left the room, that Mr M– might not be checked by her presence from giving me his unbiased opinion."
"Which was favourable, ma'am, I presume; for, if not fitted for the one, she naturally must have been fit for the other."
"So I thought," replied the lady, to this polite non sequitur of the gentleman. "But Mr M– is a very odd man, and if I must say it, not very polite. What do you think, Mr Heaviside, as soon as she left the room he rose from his chair, and, twisting up the corner of his mouth, as he looked me in the face, he said, 'Madam, it is my opinion that your daughter's comedy, whenever she makes her appearance on the boards, will, to use a Yankee expression, be most particularly damned! I wish you a very good morning.'"
"Very rude, indeed, madam; most excessively unpolite of Mr M–. I should not have thought it possible."
"Well, Mr Heaviside, as for Laura, poor thing! you are aware that she is not quite so clever as she might be; she never had any memory: when a child, she never could recollect the evening hymn if she missed it two nights running; so that acting was out of the question with her. So that all my hopes of their forming a splendid establishment by that channel have vanished. Now, my dear Mr Heaviside, what would you propose?"
"Why, really, ma'am, it is so difficult to advise in these times; but, if anxious to dispose of your daughters, why not send them out to India?"
"We have thought of it several times; for Mr Revel has an uncle there unmarried, and they say very rich. He is a colonel in the Bombay marine, I believe."
"More probably in the Bengal army, ma'am."
"Well, I believe you are right; but I know it's in the Company's service. But the old gentleman hates my husband, and will not have anything to say to him. I did write a very civil letter to him, in which I just hinted how glad one or two of my daughters would be to take care of his house, but he never condescended to give me an answer. I am told that he is a very unpleasant man."
"A difficult thing to advise, ma'am, very difficult indeed! but I can tell you a circumstance which occurred about five years ago, when a similar application to a relative in India was made by a friend of mine. It was no more attended to than yours has been. Nevertheless, as it was supposed that the answer had miscarried, the young lady was sent out to her relative with a decent equipment, and a letter of introduction. Her relation was very much surprised: but what could he do? he could not permit the young lady to remain without a roof over her head, so he received her, and as he did not like to say how he had been treated, he held his tongue. The young lady, in the course of three months, made a very good match; and is, to my knowledge, constantly sending home India shawls and other handsome presents to her mother."
