CHAPTER VI
THE GENTLEMAN IN BLUE
My mother glanced up from her work at me. I knew that her look asked meif I had heard the bell, and if I would not go to the door in answer;and, though I felt lazy, I was not base enough to ignore that appeal. SoI lurched up from my chair and swung through the little shop and flungthe door wide open, a thought angrily, for I had been deep in my brownstudy and was stupidly irritated at being jarred from it.
I half expected, so far as I expected anything, to see some familiarneighbour, with the familiar demand for a twist of tape or a case ofneedles, so that I confess to being not a little surprised and evenstartled by what my eyes did rest upon. The doorway framed a wholesomepicture of a middle-aged comely gentleman.
I see the stranger now in my mind's eye as I saw him then with my bodilyvision--a stoutly made, well set-up man of a trifle above the middleheight, in a full-skirted blue coat; a gold-laced hat upon his powder,and a gold-headed cane in his hand. The florid face was friendly, andshrewd too, lined all over its freshness with little lines of experienceand wisdom and knowledge of the world, and two honest blue eyes shonestraight at me from beneath bold black eyebrows.
It was certainly a most unfamiliar figure in the framework of our shopdoor, and I stood and stared at it, somewhat unmannerly, for a space ofseveral seconds. After a while, finding that I still barred his way andsaid nothing, the stranger smiled very good-humouredly; and as he smiledI saw that his teeth were large and white and sound.
'Well, young sir,' he said pleasantly, 'are you Master RaphaelCrowninshield?'
I told him that was my name.
'Then I should like to exchange a word or two with you,' he said; 'canwe be private within?'
I answered him that there was no one inside but my mother, and I beggedhim to step into the little parlour.
The stout gentleman nodded. 'Your mother?' he said. 'Very good; I shallbe delighted to have the honour of making madam's acquaintance: bring meto her.'
I led the way across the shop and up the two low steps into the littleparlour, where my mother, who had heard every word of this dialogue, hadlaid aside her sewing, and now rose as the stranger approached anddropped him a curtsey.
'Be seated, madam, I beg,' said the stranger. 'I have a word or two tosay to your son hereby, but first'--here he paused and addressed himselfto me--'prithee, lad, step to the door a moment and wait till I call foryou. Your mother and I have our gossip to get over.'
There was something so commanding in the kindliness of the stranger'smanner and voice that I made no hesitation about obeying him; so Ipromptly rose and made for the shop, drawing close the door of theparlour behind me.
I stood awhile at the outer door, looking listlessly into the street,and wondering what the blue gentleman could have to say to my mother andto me. Even now I can recall the whole scene distinctly, the windy HighStreet, with its gleams of broken sunlight on the drying cobbles--for ithad rained a little about noon, and the black clouds were only nowsailing away towards the west and leaving blue and white sky behindthem. I can see again the signs and names of the shops opposite, caneven recall noting a girl leaning out of a window and a birdcage in anattic.
When the door of the parlour behind me opened for the blue-coatedgentleman I noted that my mother stood with a pale face and her handsfolded. He beckoned me to him and clapped his hand on my shoulder, andthough he laid it there gentle enough, I felt that it could be as heavyas the paw of a bear.
'My lad,' he said, gazing steadily into my face with his china-blueeyes, 'your good mother and I have been talking over some plans of mine,and I think I have induced her to see the advantage of my proposals. AmI right or am I wrong in assuming you have stowed away in your body acertain longing for the wide world?'
I suppose my eyes brightened before my lips moved, for he cut me shortwith: 'There, that's all right; never waste a word when a wink will do.Now, am I right or am I wrong in supposing that you have a good friendwhose name is Lancelot Amber?'
I was determined that I would speak this time, and I almost shouted inmy eagerness to say 'Yes.'
'That will be a good voice in a hurricane,' the blue gentleman saidapprovingly. Then he began again, with the same formula, which I supposepleased his palate.
'Am I right or am I wrong in assuming that he has told you of a certainold sea-dog of an uncle of his whose name is Marmaduke Amber?'
I nodded energetically, for after his comment I thought it best to holdmy tongue.
'Very good. Now, am I right or am I wrong in supposing that you feelpretty sure at this moment that you are looking upon that same oldsea-dog, Marmaduke Amber?'
This time I smiled in good earnest at his fantastic fashion ofself-introduction, observing which the blue gentleman swayed mebackwards and forwards several times with his right hand, and I feltthat if I had been an oak of the forest he would have swayed me just aseasily, while he said with a kind of approbative chuckle: 'That'sright--a very good lad; that's right--a very smart lad.' Then hesuddenly lifted his hand, and I, unprepared for the removal of my prop,staggered against the counter, while he put another question.
'And what do you think Marmaduke Amber wants with you?'
I shook my head, and said I could not guess.
'Why, to make a man of you, to be sure,' the gentleman answered. 'Youare spoiling here in this hen-coop. Now, Lancelot loves you like abrother, and I love Lancelot like a father, and I am quite prepared totake you to my heart for Lancelot's sake, for he is scarce likely to bedeceived in you. You must know that I am going to embark upon a certainenterprise--of which more hereafter. Now, the long and the short of itis that Lancelot is coming with me, and he wants to know, and I want toknow, if you will come too?'
'If I would come too!'
My heart seemed to stand still for joy at the very thought. Why, herewas the chance I was longing for, dreaming of, day and night; here was agreat ship waiting to carry me on that wrinkled highway of my boyishambition; here was the change from the little life of a little town intothe great perils and brave existence of the sea; here was a good-bye tolove and sorrow, and the putting on of manhood and manly purposes!
Would I not come! My lips trembled with delight and my speech faltered,and then I glanced at my mother. She was very pale and sad, and at thesight my joy turned to sorrow. She saw the change on my face, and shesaid, very quietly and resolutely: 'I have given my consent, my dearson, to your going hence. Perhaps it is for the best.'
'Mother,' I said, turning towards her with a choking voice,'indeed--indeed it is for the best. I should only mope here and fret,and come to no good, and give you no pride in me at all. I must go away;it will not be for long; and when I come back I shall have forgotten myfollies and learnt wisdom.' Lord, how easy we think it in our youth tolearn wisdom! 'And you will be proud to see me, and love me better thanever, for I shall deserve it better.'
Then my mother wrung her hands together and sighed, and tried to speak,but she could not; and she turned away from us and moved further backinto the room. I made a step forward, but the stranger caught me by theshoulder, and swinging me round, guided me to the door; and at the doorwe stood in silence together for some seconds, staring out into thestreet.
'Have patience, lad,' he whispered into my ear; 'it is a good woman'sweakness, and it will pass soon. She knows and I know that it is bestfor you to go.'
I could say nothing, for my heart was too full with the joy of going andwith grief for my mother's grief. But I felt in my soul that I must go,or else I should never come to any good in this world, which, after all,would break my mother's heart more surely and sadly.
Presently we heard her voice, a little trembling, call on Mr. Amber byhis name, and we went slowly back together. Already, as I stood by thatstalwart gentleman and timed my step to his stride, I began to feel asif I had known him all my life, and had loved him as we love some dearkin.
I do not know how I can quite express what I then felt, and felt everafter, in his compa
ny--a kind of exultation, such as martial music stirsin any manly bosom, or as we draw in from the breath of some braveballad. It would be impossible, surely, to feel aught but courageous insuch cheerful, valiant, self-reliant fellowship.
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