Mary Barton

by Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell

  XXVII. IN THE LIVERPOOL DOCKS.

  "Yon is our quay! Hark to the clamour in that miry road, Bounded and narrowed by yon vessel's load; The lumbering wealth she empties round the place, Package and parcel, hogshead, chest, and case; While the loud seaman and the angry hind, Mingling in business, bellow to the wind." --CRABBE.

  Mary staggered into the house. Mrs. Jones placed her tenderly in achair, and there stood bewildered by her side.

  "O father! father!" muttered she, "what have you done!--What must Ido? must the innocent die?--or he--whom I fear--I fear--oh! what amI saying?" said she, looking round affrighted, and, seeminglyreassured by Mrs. Jones's countenance, "I am so helpless, so weak--but a poor girl, after all. How can I tell what is right? Father!you have always been so kind to me,--and you to be--never mind--never mind, all will come right in the grave."

  "Save us, and bless us!" exclaimed Mrs. Jones, "if I don't thinkshe's gone out of her wits!"

  "No, I am not," said Mary, catching at the words, and with a strongeffort controlling the mind she felt to be wandering, while the redblood flushed to scarlet the heretofore white cheek,--"I'm not outof my senses; there is so much to be done--so much--and no one butme to do it, you know--though I can't rightly tell what it is,"looking up with bewilderment into Mrs. Jones's face. "I must not gomad whatever comes--at least not yet. No!" (bracing herself up)"something may yet be done, and I must do it. Sailed! did you say?The John Cropper? Sailed?"

  "Ay! she went out of dock last night, to be ready for the morning'stide."

  "I thought she was not to sail till to-morrow," murmured Mary.

  "So did Will (he's lodged here long, so we all call him 'Will'),"replied Mrs. Jones. "The mate had told him so, I believe, and henever knew different till he got to Liverpool on Friday morning; butas soon as he heard, he gave up going to the Isle o' Man, and justran over to Rhyl with the mate, one John Harris, as has friends abit beyond Abergele; you may have heard him speak on him; for theyare great chums, though I've my own opinion of Harris."

  "And he's sailed?" repeated Mary, trying by repetition to realisethe fact to herself.

  "Ay, he went on board last night to be ready for the morning's tide,as I said afore, and my boy went to see the ship go down the river,and came back all agog with the sight. Here, Charley, Charley!"

  She called out loudly for her son but Charley was one of those boyswho are never "far to seek," as the Lancashire people say, whenanything is going on a mysterious conversation, an unusual event, afire, or a riot, anything in short; such boys are the littleomnipresent people of this world.

  Charley had, in fact, been spectator and auditor all this time;though for a little while he had been engaged in "dollying" and afew other mischievous feats in the washing line, which had preventedhis attention from being fully given to his mother's conversationwith the strange girl who had entered.

  "O Charley! there you are! Did you not see the John Cropper saildown the river this morning? Tell the young woman about it, for Ithink she hardly credits me."

  "I saw her tugged down the river by a steamboat, which comes to thesame thing," replied he.

  "Oh! if I had but come last night!" moaned Mary. "But I neverthought of it. I never thought but what he knew right when he saidhe would be back from the Isle of Man on Monday morning, and notafore--and now some one must die for my negligence!"

  "Die!" exclaimed the lad. "How?"

  "Oh! Will would have proved an alibi,--but he's gone,--and what am Ito do?"

  "Don't give it up yet," cried the energetic boy, interested at oncein the case; "let's have a try for him. We are but where we were,if we fail."

  Mary roused herself. The sympathetic "we" gave her heart and hope.

  "But what can be done? You say he's sailed; what can be done?" Butshe spoke louder, and in a more life-like tone.

  "No! I did not say he'd sailed; mother said that, and women knownought about such matters. You see" (proud of his office ofinstructor, and insensibly influenced, as all about her were, byMary's sweet, earnest, lovely countenance), "there's sandbanks atthe mouth of the river, and ships can't get over them but athigh-water; especially ships of heavy burden, like the John Cropper.Now she was tugged down the river at low water, or pretty near, andwill have to lie some time before the water will be high enough tofloat her over the banks. So hold up your head,--you've a chanceyet, though, maybe, but a poor one."

  "But what must I do?" asked Mary, to whom all this explanation hadbeen a vague mystery.

  "Do!" said the boy impatiently, "why, have not I told you? Onlywomen (begging your pardon) are so stupid at understanding aboutanything belonging to the sea;--you must get a boat, and make allhaste, and sail after him,--after the John Cropper. You mayovertake her, or you may not. It's just a chance; but she's heavyladen, and that's in your favour. She'll draw many feet of water."

  Mary had humbly and eagerly (oh, how eagerly!) listened to thisyoung Sir Oracle's speech; but try as she would, she could onlyunderstand that she must make haste, and sail--somewhere.

  "I beg your pardon," (and her little acknowledgment of inferiorityin this speech pleased the lad, and made him her still more zealousfriend). "I beg your pardon," said she, "but I don't know where toget a boat. Are there boat-stands?"

  The lad laughed outright.

  "You're not long in Liverpool, I guess. Boat-stands! No; go downto the pier,--any pier will do, and hire a boat,--you'll be at noloss when once you are there. Only make haste."

  "Oh, you need not tell me that, if I but knew how," said Mary,trembling with eagerness. "But you say right,--I never was herebefore, and I don't know my way to the place you speak on only tellme, and I'll not lose a minute."

  "Mother!" said the wilful lad, "I'm going to show her the way to thepier; I'll be back in an hour,--or so," he added in a lower tone.

  And before the gentle Mrs. Jones could collect her scattered witssufficiently to understand half of the hastily-formed plan, her sonwas scudding down the street, closely followed by Mary'shalf-running steps.

  Presently he slackened his pace sufficiently to enable him to enterinto conversation with Mary, for once escaped from the reach of hismother's recalling voice, he thought he might venture to indulge hiscuriosity.

  "Ahem!--What's your name? It's so awkward to be calling you youngwoman."

  "My name is Mary,--Mary Barton," answered she, anxious to propitiateone who seemed so willing to exert himself in her behalf, or elseshe grudged every word which caused the slightest relaxation in herspeed, although her chest seemed tightened, and her head throbbing,from the rate at which they were walking.

  "And you want Will Wilson to prove an alibi--is that it?"

  "Yes--oh, yes,--can we not cross now?"

  "No, wait a minute; it's the teagle hoisting above your head I'mafraid of; and who is it that's to be tried?"

  "Jem; oh, lad! can't we get past?"

  They rushed under the great bales quivering in the air above theirheads and pressed onward for a few minutes, till Master Charleyagain saw fit to walk a little slower, and ask a few more questions.

  "Mary, is Jem your brother, or your sweetheart, that you're so setupon saving him?"

  "No--no," replied she, but with something of hesitation, that madethe shrewd boy yet more anxious to clear up the mystery.

  "Perhaps he's your cousin, then? Many a girl has a cousin who hasnot a sweetheart."

  "No, he's neither kith nor kin to me. What's the matter? What areyou stopping for?" said she, with nervous terror, as Charley turnedback a few steps, and peered up a side street.

  "Oh, nothing to flurry you so, Mary. I heard you say to mother youhad never been in Liverpool before, and if you'll only look up thisstreet you may see the back windows of our Exchange. Such abuilding as yon is! with 'natomy hiding under a blanket, and LordAdmiral Nelson, and a few more people in the middle of the court!No! come here,"
as Mary, in her eagerness, was looking at any windowthat caught her eye first, to satisfy the boy. "Here then, now youcan see it. You can say, now, you've seen Liverpool Exchange."

  "Yes, to be sure--it's a beautiful window, I'm sure. But are wenear the boats? I'll stop as I come back, you know; only I thinkwe'd better get on now."

  "Oh! if the wind's in your favour you'll be down the river in notime, and catch Will, I'll be bound; and if it's not, why, you knowthe minute it took you to look at the Exchange will be neither herenor there."

  Another rush onwards, till one of the long crossings near the Dockscaused a stoppage, and gave Mary time for breathing, and Charleyleisure to ask another question.

  "You've never said where you come from?"

  "Manchester," replied she.

  "Eh, then! you've a power of things to see. Liverpool beatsManchester hollow, they say. A nasty, smoky hole, bean't it? Areyou bound to live there?"

  "Oh, yes! it's my home."

  "Well, I don't think I could abide a home in the middle of smoke.Look there! now you see the river. That's something now you'd givea deal for in Manchester. Look!"

  And Mary did look, and saw down an opening made in the forest ofmasts belonging to the vessels in dock, the glorious river, alongwhich white-sailed ships were gliding with the ensigns of allnations, not "braving the battle," but telling of the distant lands,spicy or frozen, that sent to that mighty mart for their comforts ortheir luxuries; she saw small boats passing to and fro on thatglittering highway, but she also saw such puffs and clouds of smokefrom the countless steamers, that she wondered at Charley'sintolerance of the smoke of Manchester. Across the swing-bridge,along the pier,--and they stood breathless by a magnificent dock,where hundreds of ships lay motionless during the process of loadingand unloading. The cries of the sailors, the variety of languagesused by the passers-by, and the entire novelty of the sight comparedwith anything which Mary had ever seen, made her feel most helplessand forlorn; and she clung to her young guide as to one who alone byhis superior knowledge could interpret between her and the new raceof men by whom she was surrounded,--for a new race sailors mightreasonably be considered, to a girl who had hitherto seen none butinland dwellers, and those for the greater part factory people.

  In that new world of sight and sound, she still bore one prevailingthought, and though her eye glanced over the ships and thewide-spreading river, her mind was full of the thought of reachingWill.

  "Why are we here?" asked she of Charley. "There are no little boatsabout, and I thought I was to go in a little boat; those ships arenever meant for short distances, are they?"

  "To be sure not," replied he, rather contemptuously. "But the JohnCropper lay in this dock, and I know many of the sailors; and if Icould see one I knew, I'd ask him to run up the mast, and see if hecould catch a sight of her in the offing. If she's weighed heranchor, no use for your going, you know."

  Mary assented quietly to this speech, as if she were as careless asCharley seemed now to be about her overtaking Will; but in truth herheart was sinking within her, and she no longer felt the energywhich had hitherto upheld her. Her bodily strength was giving way,and she stood cold and shivering, although the noonday sun beat downwith considerable power on the shadeless spot where she wasstanding.

  "Here's Tom Bourne!" said Charley; and altering his manner from thepatronising key in which he had spoken to Mary, he addressed aweather-beaten old sailor who came rolling along the pathway wherethey stood, his hands in his pockets, and his quid in his mouth,with very much the air of one who had nothing to do but look abouthim, and spit right and left; addressing this old tar, Charley madeknown to him his wish in slang, which to Mary was almost inaudible,and quite unintelligible, and which I am too much of a land-lubberto repeat correctly.

  Mary watched looks and actions with a renovated keenness ofperception.

  She saw the old man listen attentively to Charley; she saw him eyeher over from head to foot, and wind up his inspection with a littlenod of approbation (for her very shabbiness and poverty of dresswere creditable signs to the experienced old sailor), and then shewatched him leisurely swing himself on to a ship in the basin, and,borrowing a glass, run up the mast with the speed of a monkey.

  "He'll fall!" said she, in affright, clutching at Charley's arm, andjudging the sailor, from his storm-marked face and unsteady walk onland, to be much older than he really was.

  "Not he!" said Charley. "He's at the mast-head now. See! he'slooking through his glass, and using his arms as steady as if hewere on dry land. Why, I've been up the mast, many and many a time;only don't tell mother. She thinks I'm to be a shoemaker, but I'vemade up my mind to be a sailor; only there's no good arguing with awoman. You'll not tell her, Mary?"

  "Oh, see!" exclaimed she (his secret was very safe with her, for, infact, she had not heard it); "see! he's coming down; he's down.Speak to him, Charley."

  But, unable to wait another instant, she called out herself--

  "Can you see the John Cropper? Is she there yet?"

  "Ay, ay," he answered, and coming quickly up to them, he hurriedthem away to seek for a boat, saying the bar was already covered,and in an hour the ship would hoist her sails and be off.

  "You've the wind right against you, and must use oars. No time tolose."

  They ran to some steps leading down to the water. They beckoned tosome watermen, who, suspecting the real state of the case, appearedin no hurry for a fare, but leisurely brought their boat alongsidethe stairs, as if it were a matter of indifference to them whetherthey were engaged or not, while they conversed together in fewwords, and in an undertone, respecting the charge they should make.

  "Oh, pray make haste," called Mary. "I want you to take me to theJohn Cropper. Where is she, Charley? Tell them--I don't rightlyknow the words--only make haste!"

  "In the offing she is, sure enough, miss," answered one of the men,shoving Charley on one side, regarding him as too young to be aprincipal in the bargain.

  "I don't think we can go, Dick," said he, with a wink to hiscompanion "there's the gentleman over at New Brighton as wantsus."

  "But, mayhap, the young woman will pay us handsome for giving her alast look at her sweetheart," interposed the other.

  "Oh, how much do you want? Only make haste--I've enough to pay you,but every moment is precious," said Mary.

  "Ay, that it is. Less than an hour won't take us to the mouth ofthe river, and she'll be off by two o'clock!"

  Poor Mary's ideas of "plenty of money," however, were different tothose entertained by the boatmen. Only fourteen or fifteenshillings remained out of the sovereign Margaret had lent her, andthe boatmen, imagining "plenty" to mean no less than several pounds,insisted upon receiving a sovereign (an exorbitant fare, by-the-bye,although reduced from their first demand of thirty shillings).

  While Charley, with a boy's impatience of delay, and disregard tomoney, kept urging--

  "Give it 'em, Mary; they'll none of them take you for less. It'syour only chance. There's St. Nicholas ringing one!"

  "I've only got fourteen and ninepence," cried she in despair, aftercounting over her money; "but I'll give you my shawl, and you cansell it for four or five shillings--oh! won't that much do?" askedshe, in such a tone of voice, that they must indeed have had hardhearts who could refuse such agonised entreaty.

  They took her on board.

  And in less than five minutes she was rocking and tossing in a boatfor the first time in her life, alone with two rough, hard-lookingmen.