At War with Society; or, Tales of the Outcasts

by Rodrigues Ottolengui

  The Sea Captain.

  I doubt whether the good philanthropical people are even yet quite up toall the advantages of ragged schools. The salvation of society from ahost of harpies is not the main chance; neither is it that the poorwretches are sold into the slavery of vice and misery before they knowright from wrong. There's something more. I have a suspicion thatsociety loses often what might become its sharpest and most intelligentmembers in these half-starved youngsters, whose first putting out of thehand is the beginning of a battle with the world. I'm not to try toaccount for the fact, but I am pretty well satisfied, from all I haveseen, that the children of these poor half-starved people are somethingmore apt than the sons of your gentlemen. You who are learned may tryyour hand at the paradox, and make as much of it as you do of the otherriddles of human life. Here is a plea for the John Poundses and DrGuthries, of which they could make something. Every ragged urchin theylay hold of to make him learn from books has been at a school of anotherkind, where he has got his energies sharpened on a different whetstonefrom that found within a school, and then the school does its duty indirecting these energies.

  Just fancy what some of our card-sharpers would have been if theircleverness had been directed towards honest and lawful undertakings. Ihave known some of these gentlemen so adroit at the great problem ofways and means that they might have shone as Chancellors of theExchequer. It is not their fault that we find them out. Their greatdrawback is, that they begin to be cunning and adroit before they knowthe world. All this close cunning defeats itself. The young rogues putme often in mind of moles. They work in dark holes, but they are alwayscoming near the surface, where they hitch up friable hillocks to let airin, and so are caught. Nay, they sometimes hitch themselves out into themid-day sun of justice. I have at this moment two or three of thesemisdirected geniuses in my eye whom I have traced from earlychildhood--ay, that period when the Raggedier officers should have laidhold of them.

  In April 1854, an honest joiner in Banff of the name of Donald M'Beath,had taken it into his head that he would do well to go to England, wherehis talents would be appreciated. In short, Donald had working withinhim the instinct of that little insect so familiar to the Highlanders,the tendency of which is to go south--probably because it knows in someinscrutable way that Englishmen have thick blood. Then he had friends inNewcastle who had gone before him, and found out that the yellow bloodcorpuscles of the social body flowed there more plentifully than inBanff. Were I to be more fanciful, I would say that Donald M'Beath hadthe second sight--for money. He loved it so well that he had stomach for"ta hail Pank of England," and would "maype return in ta grand coach andta grey horses." Nor had this love been as yet without fruits, for hehad by Highland penury saved no less a sum than seven pounds, all stowedaway in a sealskin spleuchan, besides seven more which he had laid outon a capital silver watch--convinced that no Highland shentleman bearinga royal name, as he did, could pass muster in England without thiscommodity.

  The Highlanders were never at any time in the habit of getting lighteror leaner by moving from one place to another, if they were notgenerally a good deal heavier at the end of their journey than at thebeginning. So true to the genius of his race, he laid his plans so that,in progressing south, he would lay contributions on his "friends" allthe way, in order that, if it "could pe possible," he might keep theseven pounds all entire--some extra shillings being provided for thevoyage in the _Britannia_ from Leith to Newcastle. How many Highlandcousins suffered during this transport of the valuable person of theKing's clansman till he got to Leith, I never had any means of knowing.We cannot be far wrong, however, in supposing that he shook them allheartily by the hand; and no pedigree of the M'Farlans from Parlandownwards, was ever courted with more industry than that of theM'Beaths, if it was possible to bring within the tree any collateralbranch with M'Beath blood in his veins, meal in his girnal, and a bedfit for a Highlander. Then the shake of the hand, and the "Oigh, oigh"of true happiness, were the gratitude which is paid beforehand--the onlykind that Donald knew anything of; or any other body I suspect--at leastif I can judge from what I have received from so many to whom I havegiven lodgings, meat, and free passages.

  Arrived at Leith, the first thing Donald did was to get out the littlebit of snuff-coloured paper which contained the names of the cousins,and where, among the rest, was that of an old woman in the Kirkgate whowas a descendant of the sister of Donald's grandmother, a Macnab,--asunconscious of being related to the clan of the murderous king as anyone could be, before such a flood of light was cast upon her history asDonald was well able to shed. He soon found her out; and though JanetMacnab could make nothing of the pedigree, she could count feelings ofhumanity; and what was more, she had a supper and a bed to save aninfraction upon the said seven pounds.

  Next morning, after having partaken of a Highland breakfast from poorJanet, which could only be calculated by the professions of eternalfriendship uttered by a Gael, Donald went forth to see the craft whichin some cheap berth was to transport him to the land of gold; and, tobe sure, it was not long till he saw the vessel lying alongside of thequay. No doubt she was to be honoured in her freight. It was not everyday the _Britannia_ carried a M'Beath with seven pounds in his pocket, aseven-pound watch in his fob, and a chest of tools, which was to cut hisway to fortune. Then if it were just possible that the captain had everbeen in Banff, or had in his veins a drop of Celtic blood--he wouldascertain that by and by, he might even be a M'Beath or a M'Nab.

  Much, however, as he expected from the clanship of the captain of the_Britannia_, who was not then to be seen, he had sense enough to knowthat that officer could not abate his passage-money. Nay, he knew thathe must take out his ticket at the office on the shore, and thither heaccordingly hied to make a bargain. Unfortunately these tickets are notliable to be affected by Highland prigging; but the loose shillings towhich I have alluded allowed him still to retain untouched the sevenpounds. Yea, that seven pounds seemed to have a charmed life, the charmbeing only to be broken by some such wonder as the march of some wood orforest from one part of the kingdom to the other, or by the man whoshould try to take it having been from the belly of a shark "untimelyript."

  It wanted still some considerable time until the _Britannia_ sailed, andDonald thought that he might as well get his chest of tools and bag ofclothes put on board. He accordingly hied away to Mrs M'Nab's, andhaving returned his thanks for her kindness, if he did not promise her apart of his fortune "when it should be made," he got the packets on hisbroad shoulders, and proceeded to the vessel. He was more lucky thistime. A seaman, very probably the captain, was busy walking the deck.

  "Hallo, tare!" cried Donald to the seaman, "you'll pe ta captain?"

  "Yes, all right," replied the other; "and you'll be a passenger forNewcastle; what have you got there?"

  "My tool-chest and clothes," replied Donald; "fery valuable, cost sevenpounds ten shillings."

  "Heave them along the gunwale there," said the seaman, "they can bestowed away afterwards; but you're too soon, we wont heave off for anhour."

  "Ower sune is easy mended," replied the Gael.

  "And sometimes," in a jolly way, said the other, "we have time for adram."

  "Ay, and inclination maype too," cried Donald, quite happy.

  "Come away, then, our lockers are shut, so we'll have it up the way,where I know they keep the real peat-reek, and I'll pay."

  And Donald, leaving his luggage, but carrying with him a notion that thecaptain of the _Britannia_ deserved to be one of her Majesty's Admiralsof the Blue, followed his guide until they entered the house of thepublican, whose name I do not at present recollect. Nor was this notionin any way modified even when they were seated at the same table withthree very respectable-looking men, apparently engaged in the harmlesspastime of playing at cards. Nay, the notion was evidently shared by thethree strangers, who, although they had clearly never seen the captainof the _Britannia_ before, offered him, with a generosity wonderful toDonald, a share of t
heir liquor. On his side, the generosity wasequalled by his insisting that they, whom he declared he had never seenbefore, should take a part of his. Never was there such generousunanimity among strangers; and even Donald was included in the new-bornfriendship. Then the harmless play went on. There were only three cardsused, two diamonds and one clubs; and the game was so simple that theGael understood it in a moment, for it consisted in a little shuffling,and if one drew the clubs, he was the winner of the stakes. The generouscaptain laid down a stake of a pound; one of the players laid downanother; then the cards were shuffled in so obvious a manner that achild might have seen where the clubs lay; and so to be sure the captainsaw what a child might have seen, drew the slip, and pocketed the twopounds. This was repeated, until the captain pocketed six pounds; andDonald seeing fortune beckoning on, tabled one of the seven with thecharmed unity. None of these men had been cut out of the belly of ashark, and so Donald M'Beath's seven was made eight.

  "Play on," whispered the captain, "while I go to look after yourluggage."

  And so to be sure the Highlander did. He staked pound after pound,gained once in thrice, got furious, and staked on and on till the sevenwas nil.

  Then rose the Highlander's revenge; the watch was tabled against sevenpounds, and went at a sweep.

  "And now, py Cot, to croon a', ta _Pritannia_ will be gone," he cried,as he rushed out in agony.

  Frantic as he was, he could yet find his way to the part of the pierwhere he expected to see the vessel with the noble captain on board. Thesteamer was gone; and as he stood transfixed in despair, a man came upto him.

  "Was it you who carried some luggage on board the _Britannia_ about anhour ago?"

  "Ay, just me."

  "Well, then, I saw a man dressed in seaman's clothes carry it away. Heseemed to make for Edinburgh, likely by the Easter Road."

  "And whaur is ta Easter Road?" cried the Gael, as he turned round to runin some direction, though in what he knew not.

  At length, after many inquiries, he got into the said road, and hurryingalong at the top of his speed, he expected every moment to see thecaptain. He questioned every one he met, got no trace, and began to losehope with breath; for, long ere this, he had seen the full scope of hisfolly, and suspected that the captain was one of the cardsharpers.Fairly worn out,--more the consequence of the excited play of his lungsand galloping blood than the effect of his chase,--he slackened his pacewhen he came to the Canongate. There he was--a ruined man, not a pennyleft, the hopes of a fortune blasted, even his tool-chest, with which hemight have cut his way anywhere, gone,--a terrible condition, no doubt,not to be even conceived properly by those who have not experienced theshock of sudden and total ruin. No sight had any interest for him, noface any beauty or ugliness, except as it carried any feature like whathe recollected of his cruel and heartless companions. Nor was he freefrom self-impeachment, blaming his love of money as well as theblindness of his credulity. While in this humour, and making his way byinquiry to the Police-office, he met right in the face, and seemed tospring up three inches as he detected the features of one of hisspoilers. In an instant, his hand clutched, with the tension of atiger's muscle, the gasping throat of the villain. The Highland bloodwas boiling, and you might have seen the red glare of his eye, as if allhis revenge for what he considered to be the ruin of a life had beenconcentrated in that one terrible glance. The sharper, strong, and withall the recklessness of a tribe of the most desperate kind, was only asa sapling in his grasp.

  "My money and my watch, you tam villain!"

  Words which, accompanied by the contortion of Gaelic gesticulation, onlybrought about him a crowd, among whom two constables made theirappearance. The sharper was transferred to their hands, glad enough tobe relieved of his more furious antagonist, and all the three made forthe Office.

  It was at this part of the strange drama I came into play. The moment Isaw the Highlander enter with his man, I suspected the nature of thecomplaint, for I knew he was from the country, and the sharper, DavidWallace, was one of my most respected _proteges_ in the card andthimblerigging line; but I required the information given me by theHighlander to make me understand all the dexterity of the trick whichthe pseudo-captain of the _Britannia_ had practised. The club, I knew,consisted of four, David Wallace, Richard Kyles, John Dewar, and JohnSweeny. It was regularly organised, each man having attached to him hisgillet of a helpmate, ready to secrete or carry the watches and otherproperty won by their lords at this most unequal game. I have alwaysconsidered those daylight sharpers, who, without instruments other thanthree cards or three thimbles and a pea, contrive to levy extensivecontributions on society, as men worthy to have been drawn into theranks of honest citizens, where their talents could not have failed toelevate them into wealth. Even the manipulation of these simpleinstruments is more wonderful than the tricks of a conjurer. Fix youreyes as you may, be suspicious even to certainty that the player ischeating you, I will defy you to detect the moment when, by the light ifnot elegant touch of the finger, your pea has been slipped from theright thimble to the wrong, or the right card to the wrong--yea, to theend, you could swear that no deception has been or could be practisedupon you; and even when your watch is forfeited you could hardly thinkbut that your misfortune lay on some defect in your power ofpenetration. And so it does. You are cheated--nay, _fairly cheated_. Youcan't expect from such men that they should undertake not to deceiveyou. If they had no art, you would ruin them in five minutes, for allyou would have to do (and you insist on the unfair privilege) is towatch the thimble under which your fortune lies and snatch it. There is,therefore, no pity due to the victims of these men's deceptions, andthis we can say with a thorough condemnation of the men themselves.

  As soon as I understood the transaction, it was my duty to detect theright thimble, and I had no fear of deception. I sent Wallace, undercharge of a constable, to the Leith Office, and told M'Beath that Iwould have the three others there in the course of a couple of hours. Ihad no doubt that Dewar, the cleverest of them, had personated thecaptain, and that he had rejoined his associates to share the booty. Iknew their haunt, a public-house in Bristo Street, and, taking Rileywith me, I went direct to the place. My luck was nothing less thanwonderful. Just as I entered I met my three men coming out of a room,and holding out my arms--

  "Stop, gentlemen," said I; "I have got something to say to you."

  But I didn't need to say it. They understood me as well as I did them.

  "Captain Dewar of the _Britannia_," said I, looking to Dewar.

  "At your service," replied the rogue, with a spice of humour, at which,in the very midst of their choking wrath, they could not help leering.

  Well, the old process. "Search," said I; "I want seven pounds and awatch."

  And calling in my assistant, I began my search. No resistance. They weretoo well up to their calling.

  I found the watch on Wallace. No more. The pounds had been given to thefancies.

  I kept my word by having them all three at Leith within a couple ofhours, safely lodged in prison. They were afterwards tried by the Leithmagistrates, aided by an assessor, and sentenced to sixty days each,with sixty more if they did not give up the money and luggage. Thesentence seemed judicious, and in one sense it was; but the worthybailies did not consider that they were offering a premium on theseductive and depredating energies of the trulls, who (long after theseven pounds was spent) in order to get their birds out of the cage, setabout their arts and redeemed them from bondage.