Jacob Faithful

by Frederick Marryat

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  ONE OF THE UPS AND DOWNS OF LIFE.--UP BEFORE THE MAGISTRATES, THEN DOWNTHE RIVER AGAIN IN THE LIGHTER.--THE TOMS.--A LIGHT HEART UPON TWOSTICKS.--RECEIVE MY FIRST LESSON IN SINGING.--OUR LIGHTER WELL-MANNEDWITH TWO BOYS AND A FRACTION.

  I did not awake the next morning till roused by the police, who broughtus up before the magistrates. The crowd that followed appeared to makeno distinction between the prisoners and the witness, and remarks notvery complimentary, and to me very annoying, were liberally made. "He'sa young hand for such work," cried one. "There's gallows marked in hisface," observed another, to whom, when I turned round to look at him, Icertainly could have returned the compliment. The station was not farfrom the magistrates' office, and we soon arrived. The principalofficer went into the inner room, and communicated with the magistratesbefore they came out and took their seats on the bench.

  "Where is Jacob Faithful? My lad, do you know the nature of an oath?"

  I answered in the affirmative; the oath was administered, and myevidence taken down. It was then read over to the prisoners, who wereasked if they had anything to say in their defence. Fleming, who hadsent for his lawyer, was advised to make no answer. Marables quietlyreplied, that all the boy had said was quite true.

  "Recollect," said the magistrate, "we cannot accept you as king'sevidence; that of the boy is considered sufficient."

  "I did not intend that you should," replied Marables. "I only want toease my conscience, not to try for my pardon."

  They were then committed for trial, and led away to prison. I could nothelp going up to Marables and shaking his hand, before he was led away.He lifted up his two arms, for he was still handcuffed, and wiped hiseyes, saying, "Let this be a warning to you, Jacob--not that I think youneed it; but still I once was honest as yourself--and look at me now."And he cast his eyes down sorrowfully upon his fettered wrists. Theyquitted the room, Fleming giving me a look which was very significant ofwhat my chance would be if ever I fell into his clutches.

  "We must detain you, my lad," observed one of the magistrates, "withoutyou can procure a sufficient bail for your appearance as witness on thetrial."

  I replied that I knew of no one except my master, Mr Drummond, and myschoolmaster; and had no means of letting them know of my situation.

  The magistrate then directed the officer to go down by the firstBrentford coach, acquaint Mr Drummond with what had passed, and thatthe lighter would remain in charge of the river police until he couldsend hands on board of her; and I was allowed to sit down on the benchbehind the bar. It was not until past noon that Mr Drummond,accompanied by the Dominie, made his appearance. To save time, themagistrates gave them my deposition to read; they put in bail, and I waspermitted to leave the court. We went down by the coach, but as theywent inside and I was out, I had not many questions asked until myarrival at Mr Drummond's house, when I gave them a detailed account ofall that had happened.

  "Proh! Deus!" exclaimed the Dominie, when I had finished my story."What an escape! How narrowly, as Propertius hath it femininely,`_Eripitur nobis jumpridem carus puer_.' Well was it that thou hadstlearnt to swim--verily thou must have struggled lustily. _`Pugnat inadversas ire natator aquas_,' yea, lustily for thy life, child. Now,God be praised!"

  But Mr Drummond was anxious that the lighter should be brought back tothe wharf; he therefore gave me my dinner, for I had eaten nothing thatday, and then despatched me in a boat with two men, to bring her up theriver. The next morning we arrived; and Mr Drummond, not having yetselected any other person to take her in charge, I was again some dayson shore, dividing my time between the Dominie and Mr Drummond's, whereI was always kindly treated, not only by him, but also by his wife andhis little daughter Sarah.

  A master for the lighter was soon found; and as I passed a considerabletime under his orders, I must describe him particularly. He had servedthe best part of his life on board a man-of-war, had been in manygeneral and single actions, and, at the battle of Trafalgar, had woundup his servitude with the loss of both his legs and an out-pension fromthe Greenwich Hospital, which he preferred to being received upon theestablishment, as he had a wife and child. Since that time he hadworked on the river. He was very active, and broad-shouldered, and hadprobably, before he lost his legs, been a man of at least five feeteleven or six feet high; but as he found that he could keep his balancebetter upon short stumps than long ones, he had reduced his wooden legsto about eight inches in length, which, with his square body, gave himthe appearance of a huge dwarf. He bore, and I will say mostdeservedly, an excellent character. His temper was always cheerful, andhe was a little inclined to drink: but the principal feature in him waslightness of heart; he was always singing. His voice was very fine andpowerful. When in the service he used to be summoned to sing to thecaptain and officers, and was the delight of the forecastle. His memorywas retentive, and his stock of songs incredible, at the same time, heseldom or ever sang more than one or two stanzas of a song in the way ofquotation, or if apt to what was going on, often altering the words tosuit the occasion. He was accompanied by his son Tom, a lad of my ownage, as merry as his father, and who had a good treble voice and a gooddeal of humour; he would often take the song up from his father, withwords of his own putting in, with ready wit and good tune. We threecomposed the crew of the lighter; and, as there had already beenconsiderable loss from demurrage, were embarked as soon as they arrived.The name of the father was Tom Beazeley, but he was always known on theriver as "old Tom" or, as some more learned wag had christened him, "the_Merman on two sticks_." As soon as we had put our traps on board, asold Tom called them, he received his orders, and we cast off from thewharf. The wind was favourable. Young Tom was as active as a monkey,and as full of tricks. His father took the helm, while we two, assistedby a dog of the small Newfoundland breed, which Tom had taught to take arope in his teeth, and be of no small service to two boys in bowsing ona tackle, made sail upon the lighter, and away we went, while old Tom'sstrain might be heard from either shore.

  "Loose, loose every sail to the breeze, The course of the vessel improve, I've done with the toil of the seas, Ye sailors, I'm bound to my love.

  "Tom, you beggar, is the bundle ready for your mother? We must drop theskiff, Jacob, at Battersea reach, and send the clothes on shore for theold woman to wash, or there'll be no clean shirts for Sunday. Shove inyour shirts, Jacob; the old woman won't mind that. She used to wash forthe mess. Clap on, both of you, and get another pull at thosehaulyards. That'll do, my bantams.

  "Hoist, hoist, every sail to the breeze, Come, shipmates, and join in the song, Let's drink while the barge cuts the seas, To the gale that may drive her along.

  "Tom, where's my pot of tea? Come, my boy, we must pipe to breakfast.Jacob, there's a rope towing overboard. Now, Tom, hand me my tea, andI'll steer her with one hand, drink with the other, and as for the legs,the less we say about them the better.

  "No glory I covet, no riches I want, Ambition is nothing to me. But one thing I beg of kind Heaven to grant--"

  Tom's treble chimed in, handing him the pot--

  "For _breakfast a good cup of tea_.

  "Silence, you sea-cook! how dare you shove in your penny whistle! How'stide, Tom?"

  "Three quarters ebb."

  "No, it a'n't, you thief; how is it Jacob?"

  "About half, I think."

  "And you're right."

  "What water have we down here on the side?"

  "You must give the point a wide berth," replied I; "the shoals runsout."

  "Thanky, boy, so I thought, but wasn't sure:" and then old Tom burst outin a beautiful air:

  "Trust not too much your own opinion, When your vessel's under weigh, Let good advice still bear dominion; That's a compass will not stray."

  "Old Tom, is that you?" hallooed a man from another barge.

  "Yes; what's left of me, my hearty."

  "You'll not fetch the bridges this tide--ther
e's a strong breeze rightup the reaches below."

  "Never mind, we'll do all we can.

  "If unassailed by squall or shower, Wafted by the gentle gales Let's not lose the favouring hour, While success attends our sails."

  "Bravo, old Tom! why don't the boys get the lines out, for all thefishes are listening for you," cried the man, as the barges were partedby the wind and tide.

  "I did once belong to a small craft called the Anon," observed old Tom,"and they say as how the story was, that that chap could make the fishfollow him just when he pleased. I know that when we were in the NorthSea the shoals of seals would follow the ship if you whistled; but thesebrutes have ears--now fish hav'n't got none.

  "Oh well do I remember that cold dreary land, here the northern light, In the winter's night, Shone bright on its snowy strand.

  "Jacob, have you finished your breakfast? Here, take the helm, while Iand Tom put the craft a little into apple-pie order."

  Old Tom then stumped forward, followed by his son and the Newfoundlanddog, who appeared to consider himself as one of the most usefulpersonages on board. After coiling down the ropes, and sweeping thedecks, they went into the cabin to make their little arrangements.

  "A good lock that, Tom," cried the father, turning the key of thecupboard. (I recollected it, and that its snapping so loud was theoccasion of my being tossed overboard.) Old Tom continued: "I say, Tom,you won't be able to open that cupboard, so I'll put the sugar and thegrog into it, you scamp. It goes too fast when you're purser's steward.

  "For grog is our larboard and starboard, Our main-mast, our mizzen, our log, On shore, or at sea, or when harbour'd, The mariner's compass is grog."

  "But it arn't a compass to steer steady by, father," replied Tom.

  "Then don't you have nothing to do with it, Tom."

  "I only takes a little, father, because you mayn't take too much."

  "Thanky for nothing; when do I ever take too much, you scamp?"

  "Not too much for a man standing on his own pins, but too much for a manon two broomsticks."

  "Stop your jaw, Mr Tom, or I'll unscrew one of the broomsticks, and layit over your shoulders."

  "Before it's out of the socket, I'll give you _leg-bail_. What will youdo then, father?"

  "Catch you when I can, Tom, as the spider takes the fly."

  "What's the good o' that, when you can't bear malice for ten minutes?"

  "Very true, Tom? then thank your stars that you have two good legs, andthat your poor father has none."

  "I very often do thank my stars, and that's the truth of it; but what'sthe use of being angry about a drop of rum, or a handful of sugar?"

  "Because you takes more than your allowance."

  "Well, do you take less, then all will be right."

  "And why should I take less, pray?"

  "Because you're only half a man; you haven't any legs to provide for, asI have."

  "Now, I tell you, Tom, that's the very reason why I should have more tocomfort my old body for the loss of them."

  "When you lost your legs you lost your ballast, father, and, therefore,you mustn't carry too much sail, or you'll topple overboard some darknight. If I drink the grog, it's all for your good, you see."

  "You're a dutiful son in that way, at all events; and a sweet child, asfar as sugar goes; but Jacob is to sleep in the cabin with me, andyou'll shake your blanket forward."

  "Now that I consider quite unnatural; why part father and son?"

  "It's not that exactly, it's only parting son and the grog bottle."

  "That's just as cruel; why part two such good friends?"

  "'Cause, Tom, he's too strong for you, and floors you sometimes."

  "Well, but I forgives him; it's all done in good humour."

  "Tom, you're a wag; but you wag your tongue to no purpose. Liquor ain'tgood for a boy like you, and it grows upon you."

  "Well, don't I grow too? we grow together."

  "You'll grow faster without it."

  "I've no wish to be a tall man cut short, like you."

  "If I hadn't been a tall man, my breath would have been cut short forever; the ball which took my legs would have cut you right in half."

  "And the ball that would take your head off, would whistle over mine; sothere we are equal again."

  "And there's the grog fast," replied old Tom, turning the key, andputting it into his pocket. "That's a stopper over all; so now we'll goon deck."

  I have narrated this conversation, as it will give the reader a betteridea of Tom, and his way of treating his father. Tom was fond of hisfather, and although mischievous, and too fond of drinking when he couldobtain liquor, was not disobedient or vicious. We had nearly reachedBattersea Fields when they returned on deck.

  "Do you know, Jacob, how the parish of Battersea came into thepossession of those fields?"

  "No, I do not."

  "Well, then, I'll tell you; it was because the Battersea people weremore humane and charitable than their neighbours. There was a time whenthose fields were of no value; now they're worth a mint of money, theysay. The body of a poor devil, who was drowned in the river, was washedon shore on those banks, and none of the parishes would be at theexpense of burying it. The Battersea people, though they had leastright to be called upon, would not allow the poor fellow's corpse to belying on the mud, and they went to the expense. Now, when the fieldsbecame of value, the other parishes were ready enough to claim them; butthe case was tried, and as it was proved that Battersea had buried thebody, the fields were decided to belong to that parish. So they werewell paid for their humanity, and they deserved it. Mr Drummond saysyou know the river well, Jacob."

  "I was born on it."

  "Yes, so I heard, and all about your father and mother's death. I wastelling Tom of it, because he's too fond of _bowsing up his jib_."

  "Well, father, there's no occasion to remind Jacob; the tear is in hiseye already," replied Tom, with consideration.

  "I wish you never had any other _drop_ in your _eye_,--but never mind,Jacob, I didn't think of what I was saying. Look ye, d'ye see thatlittle house with the two chimneys--that's mine, and there's my oldwoman.--I wonder what she's about just now." Old Tom paused for awhile, with his eyes fixed on the object, and then burst out:--

  "I've crossed the wide waters, I've trod the lone strand, I've triumphed in battle, I've lighted the brand, I've borne the loud thunder of death o'er the foam; Fame, riches, ne'er found them,--yet still found a home.

  "Tom, boy, haul up the skiff and paddle on shore with the bundle; askthe old woman how she is, and tell her I'm hearty." Tom was in the boatin a moment, and pulling lustily for the shore. "That makes merecollect when I returned to my mother, a'ter the first three years ofmy sea service. I borrowed the skiff from the skipper.--I was in aGreenland-man, my first ship, and pulled ashore to my mother's cottageunder the cliff. I thought the old soul would have died with joy."Here old Tom was silent, brushed a tear from his eye, and, as usual,commenced a strain, _sotto voce_:--

  "Why, what's that to you if my eyes I'm a wiping? A tear is a pleasure, d'ye see, in its way.

  "How, miserable," continued he, after another pause, "the poor thing waswhen I would go to sea--how she begged and prayed--boys have no feeling,that's sartin."

  "O bairn, dinna leave me, to gang far away, O bairn, dinna leave me, ye're a' that I hae, Think on a mither, the wind and the wave, A mither set on ye, her feet in the grave.

  "However, she got used to it at last, as the woman said when she skinnedthe ells. Tom's a good boy, Jacob, but not steady, as they say you are.His mother spoils him, and I can't bear to be cross to him neither; forhis heart's in the right place, after all. There's the old womanshaking her dish-clout at us as a signal. I wish I had gone on shoremyself, but I can't step into these paper-built little boats without mytimber toes going through at the bottom."