CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
ON A SICK BED--FEVER, FIRMNESS, AND FOLLY--"BOUND 'PRENTICE TO AWATERMAN"--I TAKE MY FIRST LESSON IN LOVE, AND GIVE MY FIRST LESSON INLATIN--THE LOVE LESSON MAKES AN IMPRESSION ON MY AURICULAR ORGAN--VERILY, NONE ARE SO DEAF AS THOSE WHO WON'T HEAR.
When I recovered my senses, I found myself in bed, and Captain Turnbullsitting by my side. I had been removed to his house when the lighterhad arrived at the wharf. Captain Turnbull was then talking with MrTomkins, the former head clerk, now in charge. Old Tom came on shoreand stated the condition I was in, and Mr Tomkins having no spare bedin his house, Captain Turnbull immediately ordered me to be taken to hisresidence, and sent for medical advice. During the time I had remainedin this state old Tom had informed Captain Turnbull, the Dominie, andMr Tomkins of the circumstances which had occurred, and how much I hadbeen misrepresented to Mr Drummond; and not saying a word about theaffair of Wimbledon Common, or my subsequent intemperance, had given itas his opinion that ill-treatment had produced the fever. In this, Ibelieve, he was nearly correct, although my disease might certainly havebeen aggravated and hastened by those two unmentioned causes. They allof them took my part, and Mr Turnbull went to London to state mycondition to Mr Drummond, and also to remonstrate at his injustice.Circumstances had since occurred which induced Mr Drummond to lend aready ear to my justification; but the message I had sent was still anobstacle. This, however, was partly removed by the equivocatingtestimony of the young clerk, when he was interrogated by CaptainTurnbull and Mr Drummond; and wholly so by the evidence of young andold Tom, who, although in the cabin, had overheard the whole of theconversation; and Mr Drummond desired Captain Turnbull to inform me, assoon as I recovered, that all was forgotten and forgiven. It might havebeen on his part, but not on mine; and when Captain Turnbull told me so,with the view of raising my spirits, I shook my head as I lay on thepillow. As the reader will have observed, the feeling roused in me bythe ill-usage I had received was a _vindictive_ one--one that must havebeen deeply implanted in my heart, although, till then, it had neverbeen roused into action, and now, once roused, was not to be suppressed.That it was based on pride was evident, and with it my pride was raisedin proportion. To the intimation of Captain Turnbull, I, therefore,gave a decided dissent. "No, sir, I cannot return to Mr Drummond: thathe was kind to me, and that I owe much to his kindness, I readily admit;and now that he has acknowledged his error in supposing me capable ofsuch ingratitude, I heartily forgive him; but I cannot, and will not,receive any more favours from him. I cannot put myself in a situationto be again mortified as I have been. I feel I should no longer havethe same pleasure in doing my duty as I once had, and I never could liveunder the same roof with those who at present serve him. Tell him allthis, and pray tell little Sarah how grateful I feel no her for all herkindness to me, and that I shall always think of her with regret, atbeing obliged to leave her." And at the remembrance of little Sarah Iburst into tears, and sobbed on my pillow. Captain Turnbull, whether herightly estimated my character, or fell convinced that I had made up mymind, did not renew the subject.
"Well, Jacob," replied he, "we'll not talk of that any more. I'll giveyour messages just in your own words. Now, take your draught, and tryto get a little sleep."
I complied with this request, and nothing but weakness now remaining, Irapidly regained my strength, and with my strength, my feelings ofresentment increased in proportion. Nothing but the very weak statethat I was in when Captain Turnbull spoke to me would have softened medown to give the kind message that I did; but my vindictive mind wassubdued by disease, and better feelings predominated. The only effectthis had was to increase my animosity against the other parties who werethe cause of my ill-treatment, and I vowed that they, at least, shouldone day repent their conduct.
The Dominie called upon me the following Sunday. I was dressed andlooking through the window when he arrived. The frost was now intense,and the river was covered with large masses of ice, and my greatestpleasure was to watch them as they floated down with the tide; "Thouhast had a second narrow escape, my Jacob," said he, after somepreliminary observations. "Once again did death (_pallida mors_) hoverover thy couch; but thou hast arisen, and thy fair fame is againestablished. When wilt thou be able to visit Mr Drummond, and be ableto thank him for his kindness?"
"Never, sir," replied I; "I will never again enter Mr Drummond'shouse."
"Nay, Jacob, this savoureth of enmity. Are not we all likely to bedeceived--all likely to do wrong? Did not I, even I, in thy presence,backslide into intemperance and folly? Did not I disgrace myself beforemy pupil--and shalt thou, in thy tender years, harbour ill-will againstone who had cherished thee when thou wert destitute, and who wasdeceived with regard to thee by the base and evil-speaking?"
"I am obliged to Mr Drummond for all his kindness, sir," replied I;"but I never wish to enter his house. I was turned out of it, and neverwill again go into it."
"_Eheu! Jacobe_, thou art in error; it is our duty to forgive as wehope to be forgiven."
"I do forgive, sir, if that is what is requested: but I cannot, and willnot, accept of further favours."
The Dominie urged in vain, and left me. Mr Tomkins also came, andargued the point without success. I was resolved. I was determined tobe independent; and I looked to the river as my father, mother, home,and everything. As soon as my health was reinstated, Captain Turnbullone day came to me. "Jacob," said he, "the lighter has returned: and Iwish to know if you intend to go on board again, and afterwards go intothe vessel into which Mr Drummond proposes to send you."
"I will go into no vessel through Mr Drummond's means or interest,"replied I.
"What will you do then?" replied he.
"I can always enter on board a man-of-war," replied I, "if the worstcomes to the worst; but if I can serve out my apprenticeship on theriver, I should prefer it."
"I rather expected this answer, Jacob, from what you have said to mealready; and I have been trying if I cannot help you to something whichmay suit you. You don't mind being obliged to me?"
"O, no; but promise you will never doubt me--never accuse me." My voicefaltered, and I could say no more.
"No, my lad, that I will not; I know you, as I think, pretty well; andthe heart that feels a false accusation as yours does is sure to guardagainst committing what you are so angry at being accused of. Now,Jacob, listen to me. You know old deaf Stapleton, whose wherry we haveso often pulled up and down the river? I have spoken to him to take youas his help, and he has consented. Will you like to go? He has servedhis time, and has a right to take a 'prentice."
"Yes," replied I, "with pleasure; and with more pleasure, from expectingto see you often."
"O, I promise you all my custom, Jacob," replied he, laughing. "We'lloften turn old Stapleton out, and have a row together. Is it agreed?"
"It is," replied I; "and many thanks to you."
"Well, then, consider it settled. Stapleton has a very good room, andall that's requisite on shore, at Fulham. I have seen his place, and Ithink you will be comfortable."
I did not know at the time how much Captain Turnbull had been myfriend--that he had made Stapleton take better lodgings, and had made upthe difference to him, besides allowing him a trifle per week, andpromising him a gratuity occasionally, if I were content with mysituation. In a few days I had removed all my clothes to Stapleton's,had taken my leave of Mr Turnbull, and was established as an apprenticeto a waterman on the Thames. The lighter was still at the wharf when Ileft, and my parting with old Tom and his son was equally and sincerelyfelt on both sides.
"Jacob," said old Tom, "I likes your pride after all, 'cause why, Ithink you have some right to be proud; and the man who only asks fairplay, and no favour always will rise in this world. But look you,Jacob, there's sometimes a current 'gainst a man that no one can makehead against; and if so be that should be your case for a time,recollect the old house, the old woman, and old Tom, and there you'llalways find
a hearty welcome, and a hearty old couple who'll share withyou what they have, be it good, bad, or indifferent. Here's luck toyou, my boy; and recollect, I means to go to the expense of painting thesides of my craft blue, and then you'll always know her as she creeps upand down the river."
"And Jacob," said young Tom;--"I may be a wild one, but I'm a true one;if ever you want me in fair weather and in foul--good or bad--for fun orfor mischief--for a help, or for a friend in need, through thick orthin, I'm yours, even to the gallows; and here's my hand upon it."
"Just like you, Tom," observed his father; "but I know what you mean,and all's right."
I shook hands with them both, and we parted.
Thus did I remove from the lighter, and at once take up the professionof a waterman; I walked down to the Fulham side, where I found Stapletonat the door of the public-house, standing with two or three others,smoking his pipe. "Well, lad, so you're chained to my wherry for two orthree years; and I'm to initiate you into all the rules and regulationsof the company. Now, I'll tell you one thing, which is, d'ye see, whenthe river's covered with ice, as it is just now, haul your wherry uphigh and dry, and smoke your pipe till the river is clear, as I do now."
"I might have guessed that," replied I, bawling in his ear, "without youtelling me."
"Very true; but don't bawl in my ear quite so loud, I hears none thebetter for it; my ears require coaxing, that's all."
"Why, I thought you were as deaf as a post."
"Yes, so I be with strangers, 'cause I don't know the pitch of theirvoice; but with those about me I hear better when they speak quietly--that's human nature. Come, let's go home, my pipe is finished, and asthere's nothing to be done on the river, we may just as well make alltidy there."
Stapleton had lost his wife; but he had a daughter, fifteen years old,who kept his lodgings, and _did for him_, as he termed it. He lived inpart of some buildings leased by a boat-builder; his windows looked outon the river; and, on the first floor, a bay-window was thrown out, sothat at high water the river ran under it. As for the rooms, consistingof five, I can only say that they could not be spoken of as large andsmall, but as small and smaller. The sitting-room was eight feetsquare, the two bed-rooms at the back, for himself and his daughter,just held a small bed each, and the kitchen and my room below were tomatch; neither were the tenements in the very best repair, the parlourespecially, hanging over the river, being lop-sided, and giving you theuncomfortable idea that it would every minute fall into the streambelow. Still, the builder declared that it would last many yearswithout sinking further, and that was sufficient. At all events, theywere very respectable accommodations for a waterman, and Stapleton paidfor them 10 pounds per annum. Stapleton's daughter was certainly a verywell-favoured girl. She had rather a large mouth; but her teeth werevery fine, and beautifully white. Her hair was auburn--her complexionvery fair, her eyes were large, and of a deep blue, and from her figure,which was very good, I should have supposed her to have been eighteen,although she was not past fifteen, as I found out afterwards. There wasa frankness and honesty of countenance about her, and an intellectualsmile, which was very agreeable.
"Well, Mary, how do you get on?" said Stapleton, as we ascended to thesitting-room. "Here's young Faithful come to take up with us."
"Well, father, his bed's all ready; and I have taken so much dirt fromthe room that I expect we shall be indicted for filling up the river. Iwonder what nasty people lived in this house before us."
"Very nice rooms, nevertheless; ain't they, boy?"
"O yes, very nice for idle people; you may amuse yourself looking out onthe river, or watching what floats past, or fishing with a pin at highwater," replied Mary, looking at me.
"I like the river," replied I, gravely; "I was born on it, and hope toget my bread on it."
"And I like this sitting-room," rejoined Stapleton; "how mightycomfortable it will be to sit at the open window, and smoke in thesummer time, with one's jacket off!"
"At all events you'll have no excuse for dirtying the room, father; andas for the lad, I suppose his smoking days have not come yet."
"No," replied I; "but my days for taking off my jacket are, I suspect."
"O yes," replied she, "never fear that; father will let you do all thework you please, and look on--won't you, father?"
"Don't let your tongue run quite so fast, Mary; you're not over fond ofwork yourself."
"No; there's only one thing I dislike more," replied she, "and that'sholding my tongue."
"Well, I shall leave you and Jacob to make it out together; I am goingback to the Feathers." And old Stapleton walked down stairs, and wentback to the inn, saying, as he went out, that he should be back to hisdinner.
Mary continued her employment of wiping the furniture of the room with aduster for some minutes, during which I did not speak, but watched thefloating ice on the river. "Well," said Mary, "do you always talk asyou do now? if so, you'll be a very nice companion. Mr Turnbull whocame to my father, told me that you was a sharp fellow, could read,write, and do everything, and that I should like you very much; but ifyou mean to keep it all to yourself, you might as well not have had it."
"I am ready to talk when I have anything to talk about," replied I.
"That's not enough. I'm ready to talk about nothing, and you must dothe same."
"Very well," replied I. "How old are you?"
"How old am I! O, then you consider me nothing. I'll try hard but youshall alter your opinion, my fine fellow. However, to answer yourquestion, I believe I'm about fifteen."
"Not more? well, there's an old proverb, which I will not repeat."
"I know it, so you may save yourself the trouble, you saucy boy; butnow, for your age?"
"Mine! let me see; well, I believe that I am nearly seventeen."
"Are you really so old? well, now, I should have thought you no morethan fourteen."
This answer at first surprised me, as I was very stout and tall for myage; but a moment's reflection told me that it was given to annoy me. Alad is as much vexed at being supposed younger than he really is as aman of a certain age is annoyed at being taken for so much older."Pooh!" replied I; "that shows how little you know about men."
"I wasn't talking about men, that I know of; but still, I do knowsomething about them. I've had two sweethearts already."
"Indeed! and what have you done with them?"
"Done with them! I jilted the first for the second, because the secondwas better looking; and when Mr Turnbull told me so much about you, Ijilted the second to make room for you: but now I mean to try if I can'tget him back again."
"With all my heart," replied I laughing. "I shall prove but a sorrysweetheart, for I have never made love in my life."
"Have you ever had anybody to make love to?"
"No."
"That's the reason, Mr Jacob, depend upon it. All you have to do is toswear that I'm the prettiest girl in the world, that you like me betterthan anybody else in the world; do anything in the world that I wish youto do--spend all the money you have in the world in buying me ribbonsand fairings, and then--"
"And then, what?"
"Why, then, I shall hear all you have to say, take all you have to give,and laugh at you in the bargain."
"But I shouldn't stand that long."
"O, yes, you would. I'd put you out of humour, and coax you in again;the fact is, Jacob Faithful, I made my mind up, before I saw you, thatyou should be my sweetheart, and when I will have a thing, I will, soyou may as well submit to it at once. If you don't, as I keep the keyof the cupboard, I'll half starve you; that's the way to tame any brute,they say. And I tell you why, Jacob, I mean that you shall be mysweetheart; it's because Mr Turnbull told me that you knew Latin; now,tell me, what is Latin?"
"Latin is a language which people spoke in former times, but now they donot."
"Well, then, you shall make love to me in Latin, that's agreed."
"And how do you mean to answer me?"
"O, in plain English, to be sure."
"But how are you to understand me?" replied I, much amused with theconversation.
"O, if you make love properly, I shall soon understand you; I shall readthe English of it in your eyes."
"Very well, I have no objection; when am I to begin?"
"Why, directly, you stupid fellow, to be sure. What a question!"
I went close up to Mary, and repeated a few words of Latin. "Now," saysI, "look into my eyes, and see if you can translate them."
"Something impudent, I'm sure," replied she, fixing her blue eyes onmine.
"Not at all," replied I, "I only asked for this," and I snatched a kiss,in return for which I received a box on the ear, which made it tinglefor five minutes. "Nay," replied I, "that's not fair; I did as youdesired--I made love in Latin."
"And I answered you, as I said I would, in plain English," replied Mary,reddening up to the forehead, but directly after bursting out into aloud laugh. "Now, Mr Jacob, I plainly see that you know nothing aboutmaking love. Bless me, a year's dangling, and a year's pocket-moneyshould not have given you what you have had the impudence to take in somany minutes. But it was my own fault, that's certain, and I have noone to thank but myself. I hope I didn't hurt you--I'm very sorry if Idid; but no more making love in Latin. I've had quite enough of that."
"Well, then, suppose we make friends," replied I, holding out my hand.
"That's what I really wished to do, although I've been talking so muchnonsense," replied Mary. "I know we shall like one another, and be verygood friends. You can't help feeling kind towards a girl you've kissed;and I shall try by kindness to make up to you for the box on the ear; sonow, sit down, and let's have a long talk. Mr Turnbull told us that hewished you to serve out your apprenticeship on the river with my father,so that, if you agree, we shall be a long while together. I take MrTurnbull's word, not that I can find it out yet, that you are a verygood-tempered, good-looking, clever, modest lad; and as an apprenticewho remains with my father must live with us, of course I had rather itshould be one of that sort than some ugly, awkward brute who--"
"Is not fit to make love to you," replied I.
"Who is not fit company for me," replied Mary. "I want no more lovefrom you at present. The fact is that father spends all the time he canspare from the wherry at the ale-house, smoking; and it's very dull forme, and having nothing to do, I look out of the window, and make facesat the young men as they pass by, just to amuse myself. Now, there wasno great harm in that a year or two ago; but now, you know, Jacob--"
"Well now, what then?"
"O, I'm bigger, that's all? and what might be called sauciness in a girlmay be thought something more of in a young woman. So I've been obligedto leave it off; but being obliged to remain home, with nobody to talkto, I never was so glad as when I heard that you were to come; so yousee, Jacob, we must be friends. I daren't quarrel with you long,although I shall sometimes, just for variety, and to have the pleasureof making it up again. Do you hear me--or what are you thinking of?"
"I'm thinking that you're a very odd girl."
"I dare say that I am, but how can I help that? Mother died when I wasfive years old, and father couldn't afford to put me out, so he used tolock me in all day till he came home from the river; and it was not tillI was seven years old, and of some use, that the door was left open. Inever shall forget the day when he told me that in future he shouldtrust me, and leave the door open. I thought I was quite a woman, andhave thought so ever since. I recollect that I often peeped out, andlonged to run about the world; but I went two or three yards from thedoor, and felt so frightened, that I ran back as fast as I could. Sincethat I have seldom quitted the house for an hour, and never have beenout of Fulham."
"Then you have never been at school?"
"O, no--never. I often wish that I had. I used to see the little girlscoming home, as they passed our door, so merrily, with their bags fromthe school-house; and I'm sure, if it were only to have the pleasure ofgoing there and back again for the sake of the run, I'd have workedhard, if for nothing else."
"Would you like to learn to read and write?"
"Will you teach me?" replied Mary, taking me by the arm, and looking meearnestly in the face.
"Yes, I will, with pleasure," replied I, laughing. "We will pass theevening better than making love, after all, especially if you hit sohard. How came you so knowing in those matters?"
"I don't know," replied Mary, smiling; "I suppose, as father says, it'shuman nature, for I never learnt anything; but you will teach me to readand write?"
"I will teach you all I know myself, Mary, if you wish to learn.Everything but Latin--we've had enough of that."
"Oh! I shall be so much obliged to you. I shall love you so!"
"There you are again."
"No, no, I didn't mean that," replied Mary, earnestly. "I meant that--after all, I don't know what else to say. I mean that I shall love youfor your kindness, without your loving me again, that's it."
"I understand you; but now, Mary, as we are to be such good friends, itis necessary that your father and I should be good friends; so I mustask you what sort of a person he is, for I know but little of him, and,of course, wish to oblige him."
"Well then, to prove to you that I'm sincere, I will tell you something;My father, in the first place, is a very good tempered sort of man. Heworks pretty well, but might gain more, but he likes to smoke at thepublic-house. All he requires of me is his dinner ready, his linenclean, and the house tidy. He never drinks too much, and is alwayscivil spoken; but he leaves me too much alone, and talks too much abouthuman nature, that's all."
"But he's so deaf--he can't talk to you."
"Give me your hand--now promise--for I'm going to do a very foolishthing, which is to trust a man--promise you'll never tell it again."
"Well, I promise," replied I, supposing her secret of no consequence.
"Well, then--mind--you've promised. Father is no more deaf than you orI."
"Indeed!" replied I; "why, he goes by the name of Deaf Stapleton?"
"I know he does, and makes everybody believe that he is so; but it is tomake money."
"How can he make money by that?"
"There's many people in business who go down the river, and they wish totalk of their affairs without being overheard as they go down. Theyalways call for Deaf Stapleton: and there's many a gentleman and lady,who have much to say to each other, without wishing people to listen--you understand me?"
"O yes, I understand--Latin!"
"Exactly--and they call for Deaf Stapleton; and by this means he getsmore good fares than any other waterman, and does less work."
"But how will he manage now that I am with him?"
"O, I suppose it will depend upon his customers; if a single personwants to go down, you will take the sculls; if they call for oars, youwill both go; if he considers Deaf Stapleton only is wanted, you willremain on shore; or, perhaps, he will insist upon your being deaf too."
"But I do not like deceit."
"No, it's not right; although it appears to me that there is a greatdeal of it. Still I should like you to sham deaf, and then tell me allthat people say. It would be so funny. Father never will tell a word."
"So far, your father, to a certain degree, excuses himself."
"Well, I think he will soon tell you what I have now told you, but tillthen you must keep your promise; and now you must do as you please, as Imust go down in the kitchen, and get dinner on the fire."
"I have nothing to do," replied I; "can I help you?"
"To be sure you can, and talk to me, which is better still. Come downand wash the potatoes for me, and then I'll find you some more work.Well, I do think we shall be very happy."
I followed Mary Stapleton down into the kitchen, and we were soon verybusy, and very noisy, laughing, talking, blowing the fire, and preparingthe dinner. By the time that her father came home we were swornfriends.
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