Micah Clarke

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  Chapter XXII. Of the News from Havant

  Having given my orders that Covenant should be saddled and bridled bydaybreak, I had gone to my room and was preparing for a long night'srest, when Sir Gervas, who slept in the same apartment, came dancing inwith a bundle of papers waving over his head.

  'Three guesses, Clarke!' he cried. 'What would you most desire?'

  'Letters from Havant,' said I eagerly.

  'Right,' he answered, throwing them into my lap. 'Three of them, and nota woman's hand among them. Sink me, if I can understand what you havebeen doing all your life.

  "How can youthful heart resign Lovely woman, sparkling wine?"

  But you are so lost in your news that you have not observed mytransformation.'

  'Why, wherever did you get these?' I asked in astonishment, for hewas attired in a delicate plum-coloured suit with gold buttons andtrimmings, set off by silken hosen and Spanish leather shoes with roseson the instep.

  'It smacks more of the court than of the camp,' quoth Sir Gervas,rubbing his hands and glancing down at himself with some satisfaction.'I am also revictualled in the matter of ratafia and orange-flowerwater, together with two new wigs, a bob and a court, a pound of theImperial snuff from the sign of the Black Man, a box of De Crepigny'shair powder, my foxskin muff, and several other necessaries. But Ihinder you in your reading.'

  'I have seen enough to tell me that all is well at home,' I answered,glancing over my father's letter. 'But how came these things?'

  'Some horsemen have come in from Petersfield, bearing them with them. Asto my little box, which a fair friend of mine in town packed for me,it was to be forwarded to Bristol, where I am now supposed to be, andshould be were it not for my good fortune in meeting your party. Itchanced to find its way, however, to the Bruton inn, and the good womanthere, whom I had conciliated, found means to send it after me. It is agood rule to go upon, Clarke, in this earthly pilgrimage, always tokiss the landlady. It may seem a small thing, and yet life is made upof small things. I have few fixed principles, I fear, but two there arewhich I can say from my heart that I never transgress. I always carry acorkscrew, and I never forget to kiss the landlady.'

  'From what I have seen of you,' said I, laughing, 'I could be warrantythat those two duties are ever fulfilled.'

  'I have letters, too,' said he, sitting on the side of the bed andturning over a sheaf of papers. '"Your broken-hearted Araminta." Hum!The wench cannot know that I am ruined or her heart would speedily berestored. What's this? A challenge to match my bird Julius against myLord Dorchester's cockerel for a hundred guineas. Faith! I am too busybacking the Monmouth rooster for the champion stakes. Another asking meto chase the stag at Epping. Zounds! had I not cleared off I shouldhave been run down myself, with a pack of bandog bailiffs at my heels.A dunning letter from my clothier. He can afford to lose this bill.He hath had many a long one out of me. An offer of three thousand fromlittle Dicky Chichester. No, no, Dicky, it won't do. A gentleman can'tlive upon his friends. None the less grateful. How now? From Mrs.Butterworth! No money for three weeks! Bailiffs in the house! Now, curseme, if this is not too bad!'

  'What is the matter?' I asked, glancing up from my own letters. Thebaronet's pale face had taken a tinge of red, and he was stridingfuriously up and down the bedroom with a letter crumpled up in his hand.

  'It is a burning shame, Clarke,' he cried. 'Hang it, she shall have mywatch. It is by Tompion, of the sign of the Three Crowns in Paul'sYard, and cost a hundred when new. It should keep her for a few months.Mortimer shall measure swords with me for this. I shall write villainupon him with my rapier's point.'

  'I have never seen you ruffled before,' said I.

  'No,' he answered, laughing. 'Many have lived with me for years andwould give me a certificate for temper. But this is too much. Sir EdwardMortimer is my mother's younger brother, Clarke, but he is not manyyears older than myself. A proper, strait-laced, soft-voiced lad he hasever been, and, as a consequence, he throve in the world, and joinedland to land after the scriptural fashion. I had befriended him from mypurse in the old days, but he soon came to be a richer man than I, forall that he gained he kept, whereas all I got--well, it went off likethe smoke of the pipe which you are lighting. When I found that all wasup with me I received from Mortimer an advance, which was sufficient totake me according to my wish over to Virginia, together with a horse anda personal outfit. There was some chance, Clarke, of the Jerome acresgoing to him should aught befall me, so that he was not averse tohelping me off to a land of fevers and scalping knives. Nay, never shakeyour head, my dear country lad, you little know the wiles of the world.'

  'Give him credit for the best until the worst is proved,' said I,sitting up in bed smoking, with my letters littered about in front ofme.

  'The worst _is_ proved,' said Sir Gervas, with a darkening face. 'Ihave, as I said, done Mortimer some turns which he might remember,though it did not become me to remind him of them. This MistressButterworth is mine old wet-nurse, and it hath been the custom of thefamily to provide for her. I could not bear the thought that in the ruinof my fortune she should lose the paltry guinea or so a week which stoodbetween her and hunger. My only request to Mortimer, therefore, made onthe score of old friendship, was that he should continue this pittance,I promising that should I prosper I would return whatever he shoulddisburse. The mean-hearted villain wrung my hand and swore that itshould be so. How vile a thing is human nature, Clarke! For the sake ofthis paltry sum he, a rich man, hath broken his pledge, and left thispoor woman to starve. But he shall answer to me for it. He thinks thatI am on the Atlantic. If I march back to London with these brave boysI shall disturb the tenor of his sainted existence. Meanwhile I shalltrust to sun-dials, and off goes my watch to Mother Butterworth. Blessher ample bosoms! I have tried many liquors, but I dare bet that thefirst was the most healthy. But how of your own letters? You have beenfrowning and smiling like an April day.'

  'There is one from my father, with a few words attached from my mother,'said I. 'The second is from an old friend of mine, Zachariah Palmer, thevillage carpenter. The third is from Solomon Sprent, a retired seaman,for whom I have an affection and respect.'

  'You have a rare trio of newsmen. I would I knew your father, Clarke, hemust, from what you say, be a stout bit of British oak. I spoke even nowof your knowing little of the world, but indeed it may be that in yourvillage you can see mankind without the varnish, and so come to learnmore of the good of human nature. Varnish or none, the bad will everpeep through. Now this carpenter and seaman show themselves no doubt forwhat they are. A man might know my friends of the court for a lifetime,and never come upon their real selves, nor would it perhaps repay thesearch when you had come across it. Sink me, but I wax philosophical,which is the old refuge of the ruined man. Give me a tub, and I shallset up in the Piazza of Covent Garden, and be the Diogenes of London. Iwould not be wealthy again, Micah! How goes the old lilt?--

  "Our money shall never indite us Or drag us to Goldsmith Hall, No pirates or wrecks can affright us. We that have no estates Fear no plunder or rates, Nor care to lock gates. He that lies on the ground cannot fall!"

  That last would make a good motto for an almshouse.'

  'You will have Sir Stephen up,' said I warningly, for he was carollingaway at the pitch of his lungs.

  'Never fear! He and his 'prentices were all at the broad-sword exercisein the hall as I came by. It is worth something to see the old fellowstamp, and swing his sword, and cry, "Ha!" on the down-cut. MistressRuth and friend Lockarby are in the tapestried room, she spinning and hereading aloud one of those entertaining volumes which she would have meread. Methinks she hath taken his conversion in hand, which may end inhis converting her from a maid into a wife. And so you go to the Duke ofBeaufort! Well, I would that I could travel with you, but Saxon will nothear of it, and my musqueteers must be my first care. God send you safeback! Where is my jasmine powder a
nd the patch-box? Read me your lettersif there be aught in them of interest. I have been splitting a flaskwith our gallant Colonel at his inn, and he hath told me enough of yourhome at Havant to make me wish to know more.'

  'This one is somewhat grave,' said I.

  'Nay, I am in the humour for grave things. Have at it, if it contain thewhole Platonic philosophy.'

  ''Tis from the venerable carpenter who hath for many years been myadviser and friend. He is one who is religious without being sectarian,philosophic without being a partisan, and loving without being weak.'

  'A paragon, truly!' exclaimed Sir Gervas, who was busy with his eyebrowbrush.

  'This is what he saith,' I continued, and proceeded to read the veryletter which I now read to you.

  '"Having heard from your father, my dear lad, that there was some chanceof being able to send a letter to you, I have written this, and amnow sending it under the charge of the worthy John Packingham, ofChichester, who is bound for the West. I trust that you are now safewith Monmouth's army, and that you have received honourable appointmenttherein. I doubt not that you will find among your comrades some whoare extreme sectaries, and others who are scoffers and disbelievers.Be advised by me, friend, and avoid both the one and the other. For thezealot is a man who not only defends his own right of worship, whereinhe hath justice, but wishes to impose upon the consciences of others,by which he falls into the very error against which he fights. The merebrainless scoffer is, on the other hand, lower than the beast ofthe field, since he lacks the animal's self-respect and humbleresignation."'

  'My faith!' cried the Baronet, 'the old gentleman hath a rough side tohis tongue.'

  '"Let us take religion upon its broadest base, for the truth must bebroader than aught which we can conceive. The presence of a table dothprove the existence of a carpenter, and so the presence of a universeproves the existence of a universe Maker, call Him by what nameyou will. So far the ground is very firm beneath us, without eitherinspiration, teaching, or any aid whatever. Since, then, there _must_ bea world Maker, let us judge of His nature by His work. We cannot observethe glories of the firmament, its infinite extent, its beauty, and theDivine skill wherewith every plant and animal hath its wants cared for,without seeing that He is full of wisdom, intelligence, and power. Weare still, you will perceive, upon solid ground, without having to callto our aid aught save pure reason."'

  '"Having got so far, let us inquire to what end the universe was made,and we put upon it. The teaching of all nature shows that it must be tothe end of improvement and upward growth, the increase in real virtue,in knowledge, and in wisdom. Nature is a silent preacher which holdsforth upon week-days as on Sabbaths. We see the acorn grow into the oak,the egg into the bird, the maggot into the butterfly. Shall we doubt,then, that the human soul, the most precious of all things, is alsoupon the upward path? And how can the soul progress save through thecultivation of virtue and self-mastery? What other way is there? Thereis none. We may say with confidence, then, that we are placed here toincrease in knowledge and in virtue."'

  '"This is the core of all religion, and this much needs no faith inthe acceptance. It is as true and as capable of proof as one of thoseexercises of Euclid which we have gone over together. On this commonground men have raised many different buildings. Christianity, the creedof Mahomet, the creed of the Easterns, have all the same essence. Thedifference lies in the forms and the details. Let us hold to our ownChristian creed, the beautiful, often-professed, and seldom-practiseddoctrine of love, but let us not despise our fellow-men, for we are allbranches from the common root of truth."'

  '"Man comes out of darkness into light. He tarries awhile and thenpasses into darkness again. Micah, lad, the days are passing, mine aswell as thine. Let them not be wasted. They are few in number. What saysPetrarch?' To him that enters, life seems infinite; to him thatdeparts, nothing.' Let every day, every hour, be spent in furthering theCreator's end--in getting out whatever power for good there is in you.What is pain, or work, or trouble? The cloud that passes over the sun.But the result of work well done is everything. It is eternal. It livesand waxes stronger through the centuries. Pause not for rest. The restwill come when the hour of work is past."'

  '"May God protect and guard you! There is no great news. The Portsmouthgarrison hath marched to the West. Sir John Lawson, the magistrate, hathbeen down here threatening your father and others, but he can do littlefor want of proofs. Church and Dissent are at each other's throats asever. Truly the stern law of Moses is more enduring than the sweet wordsof Christ. Adieu, my dear lad! All good wishes from your grey-headedfriend, ZACHARIAH PALMER."'

  'Od's fish!' cried Sir Gervas, as I folded up the letter, 'I have heardStillingfleet and Tenison, but I never listened to a better sermon. Thisis a bishop disguised as a carpenter. The crozier would suit his handbetter than the plane. But how of our seaman friend? Is he a tarpaulintheologian--a divine among the tarry-breeks?'

  'Solomon Sprent is a very different man, though good enough in his way,'said I. 'But you shall judge him from his letter.'

  '"Master Clarke. Sir,--When last we was in company I had run in underthe batteries on cutting-out service, while you did stand on and off inthe channel and wait signals. Having stopped to refit and to overhaul myprize, which proved to be in proper trim alow and aloft--"'

  'What the devil doth he mean?' asked Sir Gervas.

  'It is a maid of whom he talks--Phoebe Dawson, the sister of theblacksmith. He hath scarce put foot on land for nigh forty years, andcan as a consequence only speak in this sea jargon, though he fanciesthat he uses as pure King's English as any man in Hampshire.'

  'Proceed, then,' quoth the Baronet.

  '"Having also read her the articles of war, I explained to her theconditions under which we were to sail in company on life's voyage,namely:"'

  '"First. She to obey signals without question as soon as received."'

  '"Second. She to steer by my reckoning."'

  '"Third. She to stand by me as true consort in foul weather, battle, orshipwreck."'

  '"Fourth. She to run under my guns if assailed by picaroons,privateeros, or garda-costas."'

  '"Fifth. Me to keep her in due repair, dry-dock her at intervals,and see that she hath her allowance of coats of paint, streamers, andbunting, as befits a saucy pleasure boat."'

  '"Sixth. Me to take no other craft in tow, and if any be now attached,to cut their hawsers."'

  '"Seventh. Me to revictual her day by day."'

  '"Eighth. Should she chance to spring a leak, or be blown on her beamends by the winds of misfortune, to stand by her and see her pumped outor righted."'

  '"Ninth. To fly the Protestant ensign at the peak during life's voyage,and to lay our course for the great harbour, in the hope that mooringsand ground to swing may be found for two British-built crafts when laidup for eternity."'

  '"'Twas close on eight-bells before these articles were signed andsealed. When I headed after you I could not so much as catch a glimpseof your topsail. Soon after I heard as you had gone a-soldiering,together with that lean, rakish, long-sparred, picaroon-like craft whichI have seen of late in the village. I take it unkind of you that youhave not so much as dipped ensign to me on leaving. But perchancethe tide was favourable, and you could not tarry. Had I not beenjury-rigged, with one of my spars shot away, I should have dearly lovedto have strapped on my hanger and come with you to smell gunpowder oncemore. I would do it now, timber-toe and all, were it not for my consort,who might claim it as a breach of the articles, and so sheer off. I mustfollow the light on her poop until we are fairly joined."'

  '"Farewell, mate! In action, take an old sailor's advice. Keep theweather-gauge and board! Tell that to your admiral on the day of battle.Whisper it in his ear. Say to him, 'Keep the weather-gauge and board!'Tell him also to strike quick, strike hard, and keep on striking. That'sthe word of Christopher Mings, and a better man has not been launched,though he did climb in through the hawse-pipe.--Yours to command,SOLOMON SPRENT."'


  Sir Gervas had been chuckling to himself during the reading of thisepistle, but at the last part we both broke out a-laughing.

  'Land or sea, he will have it that battles are fought in ships,'said the Baronet. 'You should have had that sage piece of advice forMonmouth's council to-day. Should he ever ask your opinion it must be,"Keep the weather-gauge and board!"'

  'I must to sleep,' said I, laying aside my pipe. 'I should be on theroad by daybreak.'

  'Nay, I prythee, complete your kindness by letting me have a glimpse ofyour respected parent, the Roundhead.'

  ''Tis but a few lines,' I answered. 'He was ever short of speech. Butif they interest you, you shall hear them. "I am sending this by a godlyman, my dear son, to say that I trust that you are bearing yourself asbecomes you. In all danger and difficulty trust not to yourself, butask help from on high. If you are in authority, teach your men to singpsalms when they fall on, as is the good old custom. In action givepoint rather than edge. A thrust must beat a cut. Your mother and theothers send their affection to you. Sir John Lawson hath been downhere like a ravening wolf, but could find no proof against me. JohnMarchbank, of Bedhampton, is cast into prison. Truly Antichrist reignsin the land, but the kingdom of light is at hand. Strike lustily fortruth and conscience.--Your loving father, JOSEPH CLARKE."'

  '"Postscriptum (from my mother).--I trust that you will remember what Ihave said concerning your hosen and also the broad linen collars, whichyou will find in the bag. It is little over a week since you left, yetit seems a year. When cold or wet, take ten drops of Daffy's elixir in asmall glass of strong waters. Should your feet chafe, rub tallow on theinside of your boots. Commend me to Master Saxon and to Master Lockarby,if he be with you. His father was mad at his going, for he hath a greatbrewing going forward, and none to mind the mash-tub. Ruth hath baked acake, but the oven hath played her false, and it is lumpy in the inside.A thousand kisses, dear heart, from your loving mother, M. C."'

  'A right sensible couple,' quoth Sir Gervas, who, having completed histoilet, had betaken him to his couch. 'I now begin to understand yourmanufacture, Clarke. I see the threads that are used in the weaving ofyou. Your father looks to your spiritual wants. Your mother concernsherself with the material. Yet the old carpenter's preaching is,methinks, more to your taste. You are a rank latitudinarian, man. SirStephen would cry fie upon you, and Joshua Pettigrue abjure you! Well,out with the light, for we should both be stirring at cock-crow. That isour religion at present.'

  'Early Christians,' I suggested, and we both laughed as we settled downto sleep.