CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
THE PIC-NIC PARTY--SUFFERINGS BY OIL, ICE, FIRE, AND WATER--UPON THEWHOLE THE "DIVARTING VAGABONDS," AS THE THESPIAN HEROES AND HEROINES ARECLASSICALLY TERMED, ARE VERY HAPPY, EXCEPTING MR. WINTERBOTTOM, WHOSEFEELINGS ARE BY SITTING DOWN, DOWN TO ZERO.
One morning he came down to the hard, and, as usual, I expected that hewould go down the river. I ran to my boat, and hauled in close.
"No, Jacob, no; this day you will not carry Caesar and his fortunes, butI have an order for you."
"Thank you; sir; what is the play?"
"The play--pooh! no play; but I hope it will prove a farce,nevertheless, before it's over. We are to have a pic-nic party upon oneof those little islands up the river by Kew. All sock and buskin, alltheatricals: if the wherries upset, the Hay-market may shut up, for itwill be `_exeunt omnes_' with all its best performers. Look you, Jacob,we shall want three wherries, and I leave you to pick out the othertwo--oars in each, of course. You must be at Whitehall steps exactly atnine o'clock, and I daresay the ladies won't make you wait more than anhour or two, which, for them, is tolerably punctual."
Mr Tinfoil then entered into the arrangement for remuneration, andwalked away; and I was conning over in my mind whom I should select frommy brother watermen, and whether I should ask old Stapleton to take theother oar in my boat, when I heard a voice never to be mistaken by me--
"Life is like a summer day Warmed by a sunny ray.
"Lower away yet, Tom. That'll do, my trump.
"Sometimes a dreary cloud, Chill blast, or tempest loud.
"Look out for Jacob, Tom," cried the old man, as the head of thelighter, with her mast lowered down, made its appearance through thearch of Putney Bridge, with bright blue streaks on her sides.
"Here he is, father," replied Tom, who was standing forward by thewindlass, with the fall in his hand.
I had shoved off, on hearing old Tom's voice, and was alongside almostas soon as the lighter had passed under the bridge, and discovered oldTom at the helm. I sprang on the deck, with the chain-painter of thewherry in my hand, made it fast, and went aft to old Tom, who seized myhand.
"This is as it should be, my boy, both on the look-out for each other.The heart warms when we know the feeling is on both sides. You'reseldom out of our thoughts, boy, and always in our hearts. Now, jumpforward, for Tom's fretting to greet you, I see, and you may just aswell help him to sway up the mast when you are there."
I went forward, shook hands with Tom, and then clapped on the fall, andassisted him to hoist the mast. We then went aft to his father andcommunicated everything of interest which had passed since our lastmeeting at the house of old Stapleton.
"And how's Mary?" inquired Tom; "she's a very fine lass, and I'vethought of her more than once; but I saw that all you said about her wastrue. How she did flam the poor old Dominie!"
"I have had a few words with her about it, and she has promised to bewiser," replied I; "but as her father says, `in her it's human natur'.'"
"She's a fine craft," observed old Tom, "and they always be a littleticklish. But, Jacob, you've had some inquiries made after you, and bythe women, too."
"Indeed!" replied I.
"Yes; and I have had the honour of being sent for into the parlour. Doyou guess now?"
"Yes," said I, a gloom coming over my countenance. "I presume it isDrummond and Sarah whom you refer to?"
"Exactly."
Tom then informed me that Mrs Drummond had sent for him, and asked agreat many questions about me, and desired him to say that they werevery glad to hear that I was well and comfortable, and hoped that Iwould call and see her and Sarah when I came that way. Mrs Drummondthen left the room, and Tom was alone with Sarah, who desired him tosay, that her father had found out that I had not been wrong; that hehad dismissed both the clerks; and that he was very sorry he had been sodeceived--"and then," said Tom, "Miss Sarah told me to say from herself,that she had been very unhappy since you had left them, but that shehoped that you would forgive and forget some day or another, and comeback to them; and that I was to give you her love, and call next time wewent up the river for something that she wanted to send to you. So youperceive, Jacob, that you are not forgotten, and justice has been doneto you."
"Yes," replied I, "but it has been too late; so let us say no more aboutit. I am quite happy as I am."
I then told them of the pic-nic party of the next day, upon which Tomvolunteered to take the other oar in my boat, as he would not be wantedwhile the barge was at the wharf. Old Tom gave his consent, and it wasagreed he should meet me next morning at daylight.
"I've a notion there'll be some fun, Jacob," said he, "from what yousay."
"I think so, too; but you've towed me two miles, and I must be offagain, or I shall lose my dinner; so good-bye;" I selected two otherwherries in the course of the afternoon, and then returned home.
It was a lovely morning when Tom and I washed out the boat, and, havingdressed ourselves in our neatest clothes, we shoved off in company withthe two other wherries, and dropped leisurely down the river with thelast of the ebb. When we pulled in to the stairs at Whitehall, we foundtwo men waiting for us with three or four hampers, some baskets, an ironsaucepan, a frying-pan, and a large tin pail with a cover, full of roughice to cool the wines. We were directed to put all these articles intoone boat; the others to be reserved for the company.
"Jacob," said Tom, "don't let us be kitchen; I'm togged out for theparlour."
This point had just been arranged, and the articles put into the wherry,when the party made their appearance, Mr Tinfoil acting as master ofthe ceremonies.
"Fair Titania," said he to the lady who appeared to demand, andtherefore received, the most attention, "allow me to hand you to yourthrone."
"Many thanks, good Puck," replied the lady; "we are well placed; butdear me, we haven't brought, or we have lost, our vinaigrette; wepositively cannot go without it. What can our women have been about?"
"Pease-blossom and Mustard-seed are much to blame," replied Tinfoil;"but shall I run back for it?"
"Yes," replied the lady, "and be here again ere the leviathan can swim aleague."
"I'll put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes," replied thegentleman, stepping out of the boat.
"Won't you be a little out of breath before you come back, sir?" saidTom, joining the conversation.
This remark, far from giving offence, was followed by a general laugh.Before Mr Tinfoil was out of sight, the lost vinaigrette was droppedout of the lady's handkerchief; he was therefore recalled; and the wholeof the party being arranged in the two boats, we shoved off; the thirdboat, in which the provender had been stowed, followed us, and wasoccupied by the two attendants, a call-boy and scene-shifter, who wereaddressed by Tinfoil as Caliban and Stephano.
"Is all our company here?" said a pert-looking, little pug-nosed man,who had taken upon himself the part of Quince the carpenter, in theMidsummer Night's Dream. "You, Nick Bottom," continued he, addressinganother, "are set down for Pyramus."
The party addressed did not, however, appear to enter into the humour.He was a heavy-made, rather corpulent, white-faced personage, dressed inwhite jean trousers, white waistcoat, brown coat, and white hat.Whether anything had put him out of humour I know not, but it is evidentthat he was the butt of the ladies and of most of the party.
"I'll just thank you," replied this personage, whose real name wasWinterbottom, "to be quiet, Mr Western, for I shan't stand any of yournonsense."
"Oh, Mr Winterbottom, surely you are not about to sow the seeds ofdiscord so early. Look at the scene before you--hear how the birds aresinging, how merrily the sun shines and how beautifully the watersparkles! Who can be cross on such a morning as this?"
"No, miss," replied Mr Winterbottom, "not at all--not at all--only myname's Winterbottom, and not Bottom. I don't wear an ass's head toplease anybody--that's all. I won't be _bottom_--that's _flat_."
"That depends up
on circumstances, sir," observed Tom.
"What business have you to shove your oar in, Mr Waterman?"
"I was hired for the purpose," replied Tom, dipping his oar in thewater, and giving a hearty stroke.
"Stick to your own element, then--shove your oar into the water, but notinto our discourse."
"Well, sir, I won't say another word, if you don't like it."
"But you may to me," said Titania, laughing, "whenever you please."
"And to me too," said Tinfoil, who was amused with Tom's replies.
Mr Winterbottom became very wroth, and demanded to be put on shoredirectly, but the Fairy Queen ordered us to obey him at our peril, andMr Winterbottom was carried up the river very much against hisinclination.
"Our friend is not himself," said Mr Tinfoil, producing a key bugle;"but--
"Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, To soften rocks, and rend the knotted oak.
"And, therefore, will we try the effect of it upon his senses." MrTinfoil then played the air in "Midas":--
"Pray, Goody, please to moderate," etcetera.
During which Mr Winterbottom looked more sulky than ever. As soon asthe air was finished, another of the party responded with his flute,from the other boat--while Mr Quince played what he called base, bysnapping his fingers. The sounds of the instruments floated along theflowing and smooth water, reaching the ears and attracting the attentionof many who, for a time, rested from their labour, or hung listlesslyover the gunnels of the vessels, watching the boats, and listening tothe harmony. All was mirth and gaiety--the wherries kept close to eachother, and between the airs the parties kept up a lively and wittyconversation, occasionally venting their admiration upon the verdure ofthe sloping lawns and feathering trees with which the banks of the nobleriver are so beautifully adorned; even Mr Winterbottom had partiallyrecovered his serenity, when he was again irritated by a remark ofQuince, who addressed him.
"You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man--aproper man as one shall see on a summer's day; a most lovely,gentleman-like man; therefore, you must needs play Pyramus."
"Take care I don't play the devil with your physiognomy, Mr Western,"retorted Winterbottom.
Here Caliban, in the third boat, began playing the fiddle and singing toit--
"Gaffer, Gaffer's son, and his little jackass, Were trotting along the road."
The chorus of which ditty was "Ee-aw, Ee-aw!" like the braying of ajackass.
"Bless thee, Bottom, bless thee; thou art translated," cried Quince,looking at Winterbottom.
"Very well--very well, Mr Western. I don't want to upset the wherry,and therefore you're safe at present, but the reckoning will come--so Igive you warning."
"Slaves of my lamp, do my bidding. I will have no quarrelling here.You, Quince, shut your mouth; you, Winterbottom, draw in your lips, andI, your queen, will charm you with a song," said Titania, waving herlittle hand. The fiddler ceased playing, and the voice of the fairactress rivetted all our attention.
"Wilt thou waken, bride of May, While flowers are fresh, and sweet bells chime, Listen and learn from my roundelay How all life's pilot boats sailed one day A match with Time!
"Love sat on a lotus-leaf aloft, And saw old Time in his loaded boat, Slowly he crossed Life's narrow tide, While Love sat clapping his wings, and cried, `Who will pass Time?'
"Patience came first, but soon was gone, With helm and sail to help Time on; Care and Grief could not lend an oar, And Prudence said (while he staid on shore), `I wait for Time.'
"Hope filled with flowers her cork-tree bark, And lighted its helm with a glow-worm's spark; Then Love, when he saw his bark fly past, Said, `Lingering Time will soon be passed, Hope outspeeds time.'
"Wit went nearest Old Time to pass, With his diamond oar and boat of glass A feathery dart from his store he drew, And shouted, while far and swift it flew, `O Mirth kills Time!'
"But Time sent the feathery arrow back, Hope's boat of Amaranthus miss'd its track; Then Love bade its butterfly pilots move, And laughing, said `They shall see how Love Can conquer Time.'"
I need hardly say that the song was rapturously applauded, and mostdeservedly so. Several others were demanded from the ladies andgentlemen of the party, and given without hesitation; but I cannot nowrecall them to my memory. The bugle and flute played between whiles,and all was laughter and merriment.
"There's a sweet place," said Tinfoil, pointing to a villa on theThames; "Now, with the fair Titania and ten thousand a-year, one couldthere live happy."
"I'm afraid the fair Titania must go to market without the latterencumbrance," replied the lady; "The gentleman must find the tenthousand a-year, and I must bring as my dowry--"
"Ten thousand charms," interrupted Tinfoil--"that's most true, and pity'tis 'tis true. Did your fairyship ever hear my epigram on the subject?
"Let the lads of the East love the maids of _Cash-meer_, Nor affection with interests clash; Far other idolatry pleases us here, We adore but the maids of _Mere Cash_."
"Excellent, good Puck! Have you any more?"
"Not of my own, but you have heard what Winterbottom wrote under thebust of Shakespeare last Jubilee?"
"I knew not that Apollo had ever visited him."
"You shall hear:--
"In _this here_ place the bones of Shakespeare lie, But _that ere_ form of his shall never die; A _speedy end and soon_ this world may have, But Shakespeare's name shall _bloom_ beyond the grave."
"I'll trouble you, Mr Tinfoil, not to be so very witty at my expense,"growled out Winterbottom. "I never wrote a line of poetry in my life."
"No one said you did, Winterbottom; but you won't deny that you wrotethose lines."
Mr Winterbottom disdained a reply. Gaily did we pass the variegatedbanks of the river, swept up with a strong flood-tide, and at lastarrived at a little island agreed upon as the site of the pic-nic. Thecompany disembarked, and were busy looking for a convenient spot fortheir entertainment, Quince making a rapid escape from Winterbottom, thelatter remaining on the bank. "Jenkins," said he to the man christenedCaliban, "you did not forget the salad?"
"No, sir, I brought it myself. It's on the top of the little hamper."
Mr Winterbottom, who, it appears, was extremely partial to salad, wassatisfied with the reply, and walked slowly away.
"Well," said Tom to me, wiping the perspiration from his brow with hishandkerchief, "I wouldn't have missed this for anything. I only wishfather had been here. I hope that young lady will sing again before wepart."
"I think it very likely, and that the fun is only begun," replied I."But come, let's lend a hand to get the prog out of the boat."
"Pat! pat! and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal.This green plot shall be our stage," cried Quince, addressing the othersof the party.
The locality was approved of, and now all were busy in preparation. Thehampers were unpacked, and cold meats, poultry, pies of various kinds,pastry, etcetera, appeared in abundance.
"This is no manager's feast," said Tinfoil; "the fowls are not made ofwood, nor is small beer substituted for wine. Don Juan's banquet to theCommendador is a farce to it."
"All the manager's stage banquets are farces, and very sorry jokes intothe bargain," replied another.
"I wish old Morris had to eat his own suppers."
"He must get a new set of teeth, or they'll prove a _deal_ too tough."
"Hiss! turn him out! he's made a _pun_."
The hampers were now empty; some laid the cloth upon the grass, andarranged the plates, and knives and forks. The ladies were as busy asthe gentlemen--some were wiping the glasses, others putting salt intothe salt-cellars. Titania was preparing the salad. Mr Winterbottom,who was doing nothing, accosted her; "May I beg as a favour that you donot cut the salad too small? It loses much of its crispness."
"Why, what a Nebuchadnezzar you are! However, sir, you shall beobeyed."
"Who can fry fish?" cried Tinfoil. "Here are two pairs of soles andsome eels. Where's Caliban?"
"Here I am, sir," replied the man on his knees, blowing up a fire whichhe had kindled. "I have got the soup to mind."
"Where's Stephano?"
"Cooling the wine, sir."
"Who, then, can fry fish, I ask?"
"I can, sir," replied Tom; "but not without butter."
"Butter shalt thou have, thou disturber of the element. Have we not_Hiren_ here?"
"I wasn't _hired_ as a cook, at all events," replied Tom: "but I'mrather a _dab_ at it."
"Then shalt thou have the _place_," replied the actor.
"With all my heart and _soul_," cried Tom, taking out his knife, andcommencing the necessary operation of skinning the fish.
In half-an-hour all was ready: the fair Titania did me the honour toseat herself upon my jacket, to ward off any damp from the ground. Theother ladies had also taken their respective seats, as allotted by themistress of the revels; the tables were covered by many of the goodthings of this life; the soup was ready in a tureen at one end, and Tomhad just placed the fish on the table, while Mr Quince andWinterbottom, by the commands of Titania, were despatched for the wineand other varieties of potations. When they returned, eyeing oneanother askance, Winterbottom looking daggers at his opponent, andQuince not quite easy even under the protection of Titania, Tom had justremoved the frying-pan from the fire with its residuary grease stillbubbling. Quince having deposited his load, was about to sit down, whena freak came into Tom's head, which, however, he dared not put intoexecution himself; but "a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse,"says the proverb. Winterbottom stood before Tom, and Quince with hisback to them. Tom looked at Winterbottom, pointing slily to thefrying-pan, and then to the hinder parts of Quince. Winterbottomsnatched the hint and the frying-pan at the same moment. Quincesquatted himself down with a serge, as they say at sea, quoting at thetime--"Marry, our play is the most lamentable comedy"--but putting hishands behind him, to soften his fall, they were received into the hotfrying-pan, inserted behind him by Winterbottom.
"Oh, Lord! oh! oh!" shrieked Mr Quince, springing up like lightning,bounding in the air with the pain, his hands behind him still adheringto the frying-pan.
At the first scream of Mr Quince, the whole party had been terrified;the idea was that a snake had bitten him, and the greatest alarmprevailed; but when they perceived the cause of the disaster, even hisexpressions of pain could not prevent their mirth. It was tooludicrous. Still the gentlemen and ladies condoled with him, but MrQuince was not to be reasoned with. He walked away to the river-side,Mr Winterbottom slily enjoying his revenge, for no one but Tom had anidea that it was anything but an accident. Mr Quince's party ofpleasure was spoiled, but the others did not think it necessary thattheirs should be also. A "really very sorry for poor Western," and ahalf-dozen "poor fellows!" intermingled with tittering, was all that hismisfortunes called forth after his departure; and then they set to likeFrench falconers. The soup was swallowed, the fish disappeared, jointswere cut up, pies delivered up their hidden treasures, fowls weredismembered like rotten boroughs, corks were drawn, others flew withoutthe trouble, and they did eat and were filled. Mr Winterbottom kepthis eye upon the salad, his favourite condiment, mixed it himself,offered it to all, and was glad to find that no one would spare time toeat it; but Mr Winterbottom could eat for everybody, and he did eat.The fragments were cleared away, and handed over to us. We were verybusy, doing as ample justice to them as the party had done before us,when Mr Winterbottom was observed to turn very pale, and appeared veryuneasy.
"What's the matter?" inquired Mr Tinfoil.
"I'm--I'm not very well--I--I'm afraid something has disagreed with me.I'm very ill," exclaimed Mr Winterbottom, turning as white as a sheet,and screwing up his mouth.
"It must be the salad," said one of the ladies; "no one has eaten it butyourself, and we are all well."
"I--rather think--it must be--oh--I do recollect that I thought the oilhad a queer taste."
"Why there was no oil in the castors," replied Tinfoil. "I desiredJenkins to get some."
"So did I, particularly," replied Winterbottom. "Oh!--oh, dear--oh,dear!"
"Jenkins," cried Tinfoil, "where did you get the oil for the castors?What oil did you get?--are you sure it was right?"
"Yes, sir, quite sure," replied Jenkins. "I brought it here in abottle, and put it into the castors before dinner."
"Where did you buy it?"
"At the chemist's, sir. Here's the bottle;" and Jenkins produced abottle with _castor_ oil in large letters labelled on the side.
The murder was out. Mr Winterbottom groaned, rose from his seat, forhe felt very sick indeed. The misfortunes of individuals generally addto the general quota of mirth, and Mr Winterbottom's misfortune had thesame effect as that of Mr Quince. But where was poor Mr Quince allthis time? He had sent for the iron kettle in which the soup had beenwarmed up, and filling it full of Thames water, had immersed theafflicted parts in the cooling element. There he sat with his handsplunged deep, when Mr Winterbottom made his appearance at the same spotand Mr Quince was comforted by witnessing the state of his enemy.Indeed, the sight of Winterbottom's distress did more to soothe MrQuince's pain than all the Thames water in the world. He rose, andleaving Winterbottom, with his two hands to his head, leaning against atree, joined the party, and pledged the ladies in succession, till hewas more than half tipsy.
In the space of half-an-hour Mr Winterbottom returned, trembling andshivering as if he had been suffering under an ague. A bumper or two ofbrandy restored him, and before the day closed in, both Winterbottom andQuince, one applying stimulants to his stomach, and the other drowninghis sense of pain in repeated libations, were in a state (to say theleast of it) of incipient intoxication. But there is a time for allthings, and it was time to return. The evening had passed freely; songhad followed song. Tinfoil had tried his bugle, and played not a littleout of tune; the flute also neglected the flats and sharps as of noconsequence; the ladies thought the gentlemen rather too forward, and,in short, it was time to break up the party. The hampers were repacked,and handed half-empty, into the boat. Of wine there was a little left;and by the direction of Titania, the plates, dishes, etcetera, only wereto be returned, and the fragments divided among the boatmen. Thecompany re-embarked in high spirits, and we had the ebb-tide to returnwith. Just as we were shoving off, it was remembered that the ice-pailhad been left under the tree, besides a basket with sundries. The otherwherries had shoved off, and they were in consequence brought into ourboat, in which we had the same company as before, with the exception ofMr Western, _alias_ Quince, who preferred the boat which carried thehampers, that he might loll over the side, with his hands in the water.Mr Winterbottom soon showed the effects of the remedy he had takenagainst the effects of the castor oil. He was uproarious, and it waswith difficulty that he could be persuaded to sit still in the boat,much to the alarm of Titania and the other ladies. He would makeviolent love to the fairy queen; and as he constantly shifted hisposition to address her and throw himself at her feet, there was somedanger of the boat being upset. At last Tom proposed to him to sit onthe pail before her, as then he could address her with safety; andWinterbottom staggered up to take the seat. As he was seating himself,Tom took off the cover, so that he was plunged into the half-liquid ice;but Mr Winterbottom was too drunk to perceive it. He continued to rantand to rave, and protest and vow, and even spout for some time, whensuddenly the quantity of caloric extracted from him produced its effect.
"I--I--really believe that the night is damp--the dew falls--the seat isdamp, fair Titania."
"It's only fancy, Mr Winterbottom," replied Titania who was delightedwith his situation. "Jean trousers are cool in the evening; it's onlyan excuse to get away from me, and I never will speak again to you ifyou quit your seat."
"The fair Titania, the mistress of my soul, and body too, if sh
epleases--has--but to command--and her slave obeys."
"I rather think it is a little damp," said Tinfoil; "allow me to throw alittle sand upon your seat;" and Tinfoil pulled out a large paper bagfull of salt, which he strewed over the ice.
Winterbottom was satisfied, and remained; but by the time we had reachedVauxhall Bridge, the refrigeration had become so complete that he wasfixed on the ice, which the application of the salt had made solid. Hecomplained of cold, shivered, attempted to rise, but could not extricatehimself; at last his teeth chattered, and he became almost sober; but hewas helpless from the effects of the castor oil, his intermediateintoxication, and his present state of numbness. He spoke less andless; at last he was silent, and when we arrived at Whitehall stairs hewas firmly fixed in the ice. When released he could not walk, and hewas sent home in a hackney-coach.
"It was cruel to punish him so, Mr Tinfoil," said Titania.
"Cruel punishment! Why, yes; a sort of _impailment_," replied MrTinfoil, offering his arm.
The remainder of the party landed and walked home, followed by the twoassistants, who took charge of the crockery; and thus ended the pic-nicparty, which, as Tom said, was the very funniest day he had ever spentin his life.
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