CHAPTER X.
HOW THEY PASSED THE WINTER EVENINGS.
One evening they made a rousing fire. Ben got out his shoemaker’sbench, and was tapping a pair of shoes. Boots were not worn by them;they wore shoes and buskins.
Fred and Charles were making baskets, and Joe an axe-handle, or rathersmoothing it. Sally was knitting Charles a pair of mittens. As forSailor, he had the cat on her back on the hearth, while he was astrideof her, trying to lick her face with his tongue, the cat keeping himoff with her paws, but when he became too familiar, would strike himwith her claws.
“Charlie,” said Joe, looking up from his work, “tell us some more aboutEngland, like as you did the other night.”
“Yes, do, Charlie,” said Fred. “Was your father a cooper? You said theymade hoops of willow and alder.”
“No; he was a basket-maker, and so were all my folks--my grandfatherand great-grandfather. We cannot remember when our folks were notbasket-makers. But then, as I have told you, we mean by basket-makersthose who work with sallies, and make all kinds of things withit. My mother’s brother made a tea-set, and presented it to thequeen,--plates, and cups and saucers, and tea and coffee pots, andtumblers. Of course they were only to look at; but they were just asbeautiful as they could be, and all colored different colors, likechina. He was four years about it, at spare times, when he could leavehis regular work that he got his living by. My father employed four orfive men, and we paid our rent, and got along quite comfortable, tillmy father was pressed.”
“Pressed!” said Fred; “what is that?”
“Why, in England, they are in war-time always short of men in the navy;and then they take them right in the street, or anywhere, and put themby force into the men-of-war, to serve during his majesty’s pleasure. Ihave heard people say that means during the war; and that as England isalways at war with somebody, it was the same as forever. That is whatpressing means.”
“A cruel, barbarous thing it is, too,” said Ben, “and ought to bring acurse on any government.”
“They press sailors generally,” said Charles; “but when they are veryshort of men they will take anybody they can get hold of. I have heardsay they couldn’t press a squire’s son, or a man that owned land, andthat they can’t go into a man’s house to take him; but, if they catchhim outside, or going into the door, they will take him.”
“Can they take any of the quality?”
“No, indeed! all the misery comes on the poor in England.”
“I shouldn’t think,” said Fred, “that a poor man would dare to go outof doors.”
“Well, they don’t; leastways, in the night, when the press-gang isabout. There was one time (I have heard my mother tell of it) when theywere pressing blacksmiths.”
“What did they want of blacksmiths?”
“She said at that time they took blacksmiths and rope-makers, calkers,and shipwrights, and set them at work in the dock-yards on foreignstations, where they were building and repairing men-of-war. My unclewas a blacksmith; he had been warned that the press-gang were about,and was on his guard. But one night, just as he was getting into bed,there was a cry of murder right at his door-step. He ran out to help,and there was a man lying on the flags, and two others striking athim. The moment my uncle came out, the man who was crying murder jumpedup, and all three of them rushed upon my uncle. It was the press-gangmaking believe murder to get him out of doors. He caught hold of thescraper on the step of the door, and cried for help. My aunt ran outand beat the press-gang with her broom, and the people in the blockflung coals, and kettles, and anything they could lay their hands on,upon their heads. One woman got a tea-kettle of hot water, and wasgoing to scald the press-gang; but she couldn’t without scalding myuncle. The people now rose, and came rushing from all quarters; but thepolice came, too, to help the press, and marines from the guard-housewith cutlasses and pistols. His wife clung to him, and his children,and cried as though their hearts would break; but they put handcuffs onhim, and dragged him away, all bleeding, and his clothes torn off inthe scuffle.”
“What a bloody shame!” cried Ben, his face assuming that terribleexpression which Charles had seen on it when the encounter betweenhim and the land-pirates took place. “I wish I had been there; I’dhave given some of them sore heads. But they are not so much to blame,after all. It is those that make the laws, and that set the press-gangat work. I should like to wring their necks for them.”
“I shouldn’t think,” said Joe, “such men would fight very well for thegovernment that used them so.”
“They don’t,” said Ben; “and they dare not trust them; but they scatterthem through the ship, a few in every mess, and put them where they canwatch them. I was taken once by an English man-of-war. They put a prizecrew on board of us; part of them were pressed men. We rose and retookher; the pressed men all joined us, and went into our army.”
“I should have thought they would have gone into the privateers ormen-of-war.”
“They thought they were less likely to be taken again in the army,for if the English had got hold of them, they would have hung them.They told me that whenever they got into action with a French vessel,they threw the shot overboard, if they could get a chance, instead ofputting it in the guns, in order that they might be taken; and thatthey sometimes revenged themselves by shooting their officers in thesmoke and heat of the action.”
“I should think the officers would keep a bright look out for them.”
“So they do; and are very careful not to go under the tops, and keepwell clear of the masts, lest a marline-spike should come down on theirheads, or a block unhook, or a heaver fall, as accidents of that kindwere very apt to happen when pressed men were aloft. I don’t believe aman could be so on his guard that I could not kill him in the course ofa three years’ cruise, if I wanted to, and appear to do it by accident,too.
“I have seen hundreds of these men, and they all tell the same story.I’ve seen a poor fellow who was pressed when he was nineteen; hismother was a widow, and he was her sole dependence. I’ve seen him, whenhe was telling me the story, jump up and smite his hands together,while the tears ran down his cheeks, and pray God to curse thatgovernment, and hope that he might live to see its downfall; but Inever heard them curse the country; they seemed to love that; it wasthe government they hated and cursed.”
“Was your father pressed when your uncle was?” said Joe.
“No; about four months after.”
“Tell us about that, Charles,” said Sally.
“I don’t like to tell or think about it; but I will tell you. At thetime my uncle was taken, it made a great noise. People were very muchfrightened, and kept very close, never going out in the evening if theycould help it.”
“I don’t see,” said Ben, “in a country where the law allowed them toseize people in the street, and carry them off, why they could not gointo the house and take them.”
“Perhaps they could; but that was what folks said, that an‘Englishman’s house was his castle,’ and they couldn’t come into thehouse to take them, and they never did. We didn’t think they wouldpress my father, because he was neither a rope-maker nor carpenter;but they were short of men, and all was fish that came to their net.Nevertheless, we kept such strict watch that my father would not havebeen taken; but he was sold to them by a blood-seller.”
“What is a blood-seller?” said Sally.
“A man that will go to the captain of the press-gang, and tell himwhere he can find a man, and how he can get hold of him; and they getpaid for it.”
“O, that is the meanest, wickedest thing I ever did hear tell of.”
“It is often done in England, though; but this man didn’t do it formoney.”
“What did he do it for?”
“He and my father courted mother when they were both young men; but sheliked my father best, and married him. He always hated my father afterthat; told lies about him, killed his geese, and tried to injure him inhis business. But when he found the pre
ss-gang were about, he thoughtif he could sell him to them, and get him out of the way, mother wouldmarry him.”
“He must have been a fool, as well as a villain, to think a woman wouldmarry a man that did that.”
“But he did not think that would ever be known; but it came out. Heknew that my father had engaged to make cases for the army to carryinstruments in.”
“What are they?”
“Why, little square baskets, with partings in them, and covered withleather, to put the doctors’ things in. They are so light that a mancan carry them on his back just like a knapsack.
“My father set out from home, to go to the government workshop, longbefore daylight, that the press-gang might not see him; he had aboutfour miles to go. If he could only get there, and put his name on theroll, he would be safe, as then he would have a passport given him togo and come, and the press couldn’t touch him. He could make betterwages working at home, but my mother persuaded him to work for lesswages, for the sake of being safe.
“The blood-seller knew all about this, and told the press-gang. He wasin sight of the workshop, and hurrying on with all his might, when fourmen jumped out from a hedge and seized him,--one of whom put his handon his shoulder, and told him he must go and serve in the navy duringhis majesty’s pleasure. Before daylight he was out of sight and hearingof everybody that knew him.”
“Poor man,” said Sally, “when he was almost in safety.”
“But how did you know what had become of him?” said Joe.
“He was going to board with his cousin, and come home Saturday nights.They looked for him till the middle of the week, and, when he didn’tcome, his cousin came over to our house, and said to mother, ‘Where isJohn? I thought he was going to work for the army.’
“‘He went from here at three o’clock last Monday morning.’
“‘He has not been at our house, nor at the workshop, for I have been tosee.’
“‘Not been at your house! Why, he told me he was going to enter hisname on the roll, and be mustered in, and get his protection, and thengo to your house to dinner.’
“‘My God! then the press-gang have got him!’
“As he uttered these awful words, my mother screamed out, ‘The thingthat I greatly feared has come upon me,’ and fell senseless on thehearth. We children thought she was dead.”
“Poor soul,” cried Sally, “how she must have suffered! Your cousinought to have broke it to her more gently. But what did you do then?”
“He put her on the bed, and called some women that lived over the way,and they brought her to. All her folks and friends came to see her, andtried to comfort her, and told her that perhaps he had gone on someunexpected business, and would return; and that even if he was pressed,he might be discharged when the war was over.”
“How long before you found out what become of him?”
“In about ten days my mother had a letter from him. It was all blottedover with tears. He said he was on board the hulk at Sheerness, andthat if we came quick we could see him, as he might be ordered away atany time.”
“What is a hulk?” said Fred.
“It is an old man-of-war, not fit for service, and made a prison-shipof, to keep the men in till they want them in the ships they are goingin. My grandfather went with us to the ship; there we found him withtwo thousand more men.”
“O, my!” said Sally; “were all these poor men pressed?”
“No; my father said most of them were sailors who had shipped of theirown accord. He was so pale and heart-broken I should have hardly knownhim. He wanted to be cheerful, and comfort us, but he couldn’t. Thetears ran down his cheeks in spite of him.
“He took my mother in his arms, and said, ‘My poor Nancy, what willbecome of you and these little ones, now they have no father to earnthem bread, and keep want from the door; and poor old father, too, thatwhen we had food always had part of it.’ Little William, who was justbeginning to go alone, clung around his neck, and sobbed as if hisheart would break.
“‘We shall be at home, John, among friends; but you are going amongstrangers into battle, to be exposed to the dangers of the seas.’
“They now told us we must part, for we had been together two hours,though it seemed to us but a few moments. We had to see and talk withhim right amongst a crowd of men: some were swearing, some wrangling,and some laughing and talking, for the sailors seemed to be as merryas could be, and in their rough way tried to cheer us up. Father askedmy grandfather to pray with him before they parted; and when my fathertold some of the sailors what he was going to do, they went among therest, and it was so still that you might have heard a pin drop. I sawtears in the eyes of many of them when we went away, and they said,‘God bless you, old father!’ in a real hearty way, to my grandfather,and shook hands with him.”
“Sailors are rough men,” said Ben, “for they live on a rough element,and see rough usage; but there was not a sailor in all that ship’scompany would have betrayed his shipmate, as that blood-seller did yourfather.”
“While we were on board the guard-ship, one of the marines told myfather who it was that betrayed him to the press-gang, for he overheardhim talking with the captain about it.
“It was bitter parting. We never expected to see him again, and wenever did; for it was but a few months after that when he was killed inbattle.”
“What did your mother do,” said Ben, “when she heard that your fatherwas dead?”
“At first she took to her bed, and seemed quite heart-broken. After awhile she kind of revived up, and said it was her duty to take careof us, for father’s sake. Then she hired men, and went into the shopherself; and the neighbors and our relations helped us cut and whitenthe sallies, and pick the fowl, and we made out to pay the rent, andwere getting along very well, when there came a new trouble.”
“What was that?”
“Why, this same man, Robert Rankins, that sold my father, began tocome into the shop, and make us presents, and help us, and finallyasked my mother to marry him; but she spit in his face, and called hima blood-seller, and told him what he had done to my father; but stillhe would come; when, to be rid of him, she put the children among myfather’s folks, and took me and came to the States; and the rest youknow,” said the boy, his voice shaking with the feelings which therecital called up.
Charlie’s stories were not all so sad as these. Many of them causedthem all to laugh till their sides ached.
“How did you get your living, Charles,” said Ben, “before you shippedwith the pirates in the shaving mill?”
“I ran of errands, and piled up wood on the wharves, picked up oldjunk round the wharves and sold it, and went round to the doors of thehouses and sung songs; did everything and anything that I could get acopper by, except to beg and steal. I never did beg in my life, butsometimes I thought I must come to it or starve.”
“Sing me a song, do, Charlie,” said Fred.
“Some other time, Fred, I will; but not to-night. I have been talkingabout things that make my heart ache, and I don’t feel like it.”
If Charles could tell them many things that were new and interesting,they could equal him in all these respects. Joe could tell him storiesof logging, camp-life in the woods, and hunting; Ben, of the seas andprivateering.
Charlie was exceedingly curious and inquisitive in respect toeverything that related to the Indians. He had read and heard a greatmany stories about them in his own country, from old soldiers that hadbeen in the British armies, and of whom every village and hamlet hadits share, and who had fought in all the Old French and Indian wars;but he had never seen a savage, or any of their work.
“They are the fellows for making baskets,” said Joe, “and they cancolor them too.” Then he told him about their canoes of birch bark.
Ben showed him a pair of snow-shoes, and put them on, and a pair ofmoccasons worked with beads.
Sally showed him a box made of birch wood, covered with bark, andworked with porcupine quills of different colors-
-blue, white, andgreen.
“Where did they get the colors?” said Charles.
“Out of roots and barks, that no one knows but themselves.”
“What color are they?” said Charles.
“Just the color of that,” said Joe, taking a copper coin from hispocket.
But he was the most of all delighted when he discovered that UncleIsaac had lived among them, and knew all their ways, and promisedhimself that he would have many a good time talking with him.
“You must get the right side of Uncle Isaac if you want Indianstories,” said Joe.
“I guess he has done that already,” replied Ben, “or he never wouldhave lent him his tools. Uncle Isaac don’t lend his tools to everybody.If you only knew the secret of the Indian colors, Charles, you mightmake your bedstead look gay.”
“Yes, father, and not cost a penny either. I would color the sackingbottom green; no, red; no, blue, I think, would look the handsomest.”
Charlie Bell, The Waif of Elm Island Page 11