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JACK     ASHORE. 


BY    THE    AUTHOR  OF 

RATTLIN  THE  RE:EFERr  •*  OUTWARD  BOUND,** 


IN  THREE  VOLUMES. 


VOL.    I. 


LONDON : 
HENRY  COLBURN,  PUBLISHER, 

GREAT  MARLBOROUGH  STREET. 

1840. 


LONDON  : 

IBOTSON  AMD  PALMSR,   PRINTKRS, 
AAVOVSTRKST,  STRAND. 


TO    THE 

¥OK£MAST    MEN    OF  HER  MAJESTY^S  ROYAL  NAVY, 

THB    TALE   OF 

"JACK   ASHORE" 

IS    RESPECTFULLY   DEDICATED, 

KOT   ONLY    AS   A   TBIBUTB 

TO    THEIR   STERLING    AND    WELL-TRIED    WORTH, 

BUT    AS    AN    HUMBLE    ATTEMPT 

TO    PROVE  TO  THE  WORLD  AND  TO   THEMSELVES 

THE    ELIGIBILITY    AND   THE    HONOUR 
OF  THEIR    STATION    IN    LIFE, 

BY 

THEIR    OLD    SHIPMATE    AND    FRIEND, 

EDWARD  HOWARD. 


AN  APPEAL 

TO 

THE  liADIES  OF  ENGLAND 

IN    rAVOVB   OF 

"JACK  ASHORE." 


Ye  Island-bom !  ye  beautiful !  To  you. 
All  trustingly,  the  rough  and  sea-wom  bard 
Meekly  for  your  protection  turns  to  sue  ; 
Nor  with  contempt  his  strains  will  ye  discard. 
Though  to  your  gentleness  they  may  seem  bard, 
Mix'd  with  the  sounding  waves,  whose  refluent  roar 
Is  the  loud  hymn  of  empire.    As  a  guard 
With  never-ending  song,  from  shore  to  shore. 
These  rude  waves  girt  ye  round  with  safety  ever- 
more ! 


VI  AN    APPEAL 

Guards  may  turn  traitors^  and  the  false  waTes  be 
The  bearers^  not  the  barriers^  to  the  foe ; 
But  whilst  the  British  tar  is  on  the  sea 
No  hostile  host  the  realms  ye  grace  shall  know. 
Free  in  your  island  home  as  breezes  blow. 
In  all  untouch'd^  save  the  too  yielding  breast^ 
You  hold  your  sway.    To  him  alone  you  owe 
This  reign  of  peace,  this  never-changing  rest —    " 
In  which,  while  blessing  us,  ye  are  yourselves  thrice 
blessed. 

Precious  and  sweet  is  your  pre-eminence 

O'er  every  other  nation's  boasted  fair ; 

Not  in  your  beauty  only,  but  in  sense, 

In  virtuous  lore,  and  those  endowments  rare 

That  earthly,  less  than  heav*nward  thoughts  de. 

clare ; 
For  such  perfections  we  should  seek  in  vain 
Where  war's  fierce  vulture  hovers  in  the  air. 
For  you,  the  brave  wayfarers  of  the  main 
Have  made  your  country  long  of  peace  one  splendid 
fane. 

ft 

Honour  the  bold  withstanders  of  the  storm  ! 

Honour  the  humble  warriors  of  the  wave  ! 

Those   who,   when   Danger's    gaunt  and  varying 

form 
Shows  ghastliest,  ever  prove  themselves  most  brave. 


TO    THE    LADIES    OF    ENGLAND.  Vll 

Protect  and  honour !  whilst  the  waters  lave 
The  shores  he  oft  has  saved^  and  still  will  save — 
Honour  the  sailor ;  to  his  voice  attend ; 
Whether  his  fitful  word  be  gay  or  grave  : 
Also  to  him  support  and  favour  lend^ 
^Vho  tells  Jack's  honest  tale,  and  fain  would  prove 
his  friend. 

Nor  class  the  records  of  Jack's  wild  career 
With  vulgar  trash,  or  Newgate — spawn'd  romance. 
By  taste  abhorr'd,  offensive  to  the  ear ; 
Where  villaiiies  in  vilest  words  advance 
Claims  for  renown,  and  Shame  looks  on  askance. 
While,  through  the  tale  that  ends  on  Tyburn  tree. 
Ideas  deprav'd  in  felon  phrases  dance. 
Jack's  language  is  all  strong,  and  strange,  and  free. 
As  his  bold  nature  is,  yet  pure  as  his  own  sea. 

The  lowly  is  not  law,  the  humble  mean  ; 
The  violet  trod  beneath  men's  careless  feet. 
Than  weeds  of  loftier  bearing,  gaudier  sheen. 
Is  worthier  far.     In  life  obscure  we  meet 
Souls  in  ail  nature's  nobleness  complete. 
Thus  humble  Jack,  with  hope's  most  ardent  glow. 
For  your  protection.  Ladies,  will  entreat. 
Since,  great  in  Virtue's  lowliness,  ye  know 
The  humble  is  not  the  meauy  the  lowly  not  the  low. 


vm  AN    APPEAL. 

And  thou,  first  Ladt  of  the  world !  So  sweet 
In  youUij  so  bland  in  beauty,  and  so  blest 
In  prayers  and  wishes  million-Toiced  I  'tis  meet 
That  thou,  ^*  bright  yirgin  throned  in  the  west/' 
Shouldstj  as  the  Qubin  of  sailors  be  addrest- 
They  love  thee  well  those  **  hearts  of  oak,"  and  hem 
Thee  round  with  regal  safety ;  and  the  best 
Ray  of  thy  glory  owest  thou  not  to  them  ? 
The  rule  of  the  yast  sea  is  thy  crown's  brightest  gem . 

If  haply  thine  eye  should  fall  upon  this  page, 
Thou'lt  learn  the  warrior  mariner  to  prize. 
Loyal  to  thee  in  manhood,  youth,  and  age. 
On  trackless  paths,  not  only  bold  but  wise. 
He  goes  his  way,  confiding  in  the  skies. 
To  serve  his  country,  and  to  honour  thee. 
Then  let  him  find  all  favour  iu  thine  eyes : 
Proud  of  thy  realms,  still  prouder  shouldst  thou  be 
As  the  bold  seaman's  Queen— Queen  of  his  subject 
sea. 


NOTICE 


TO  TBB 


READERS   OF   "JACK  ASHORE." 


Tub  author  is  not  about  to  write  an  essay  on 
k  vrai  et  le  vraisemblable^  but  only  to  advance 
the  opinion,  that,  to  the  reflective  mind,  the 
true  ought  to  be  acknowledged  as  the  probable. 
If,  in  the  course  of  nature,  the  probable  only 
occurred,  we  should  live  in  a  very  common- 
place world  indeed,  and  not  only  poetry  and 
romance  would  lose  all  their  charms,  but 
history,  also,  would  be  wanting  in  some  of  its 
greatest  attractions.  The  aberrations  of  events 
are  much  more  wild  and  eccentric  than  those 


NOTICE. 


of  character;  the  writer*  therefore,  of  fiction 
will  do  well  if  he  regard  only  the  true  in  his 
incidents,  yet  keep  strictly  to  the  probable  in 
describing  the  persons  who  work  out,  and  those 
who  are  affected  by,  the  events. 

The  two  principal  incidents  of  the  following 
story  —  the  undiscovered  abstraction  of  the 
figure-*head  of  the  Glory,  and  the  will  of  accu- 
mulation for  successive  generations — are  both 
founded  strictly  upon  fact.  There  are  many 
seamen,  and  some  officers,  still  living,  who  cail 
vouch  that  an  event,  precisely  similar  to  that 
described  as  having  occurred  on  board  the 
Glory,  actually  took  place ;  and,  as  to  the  pro- 
visions of  the  singular  will,  any  one  conversant 
with  legal  cases,  or  at  all  cognisant  of  legal 
history,  will  satisfy  the  dubious  reader  that  a 
similar  testament  was  really  made,  enrolled, 
and  acted  upon  for  many  years,  and  ultimately 
set  aside  by  a  decision  of  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor. 

If,  therefore,  the  two  incidents  upon  which 


NOTICE.  XI 

the  story  of  **  Jack  Ashore**  depends,  should 
startle  by  their  singularity,  I  have  no  other 
defence  to  make,  than  to  aver  that  they  are 
modified  truths;  and  should  they  appear  im- 
probable, the  author  must  have  failed  in  tact 
of  description,  and  not  the  reader  in  philoso- 
phical apprehension. 


CONTENTS 


OF    THE    FIRST    VOLUME. 


Chaptkr  I.— Some  aecovnt  of  the  Old  Gloiy,  beginmng  with 
hm  stem  ;  and  of  her  captain,  beginning  with  hia  head-— 
Btitumia.  Fame,  Old  Ocean,  and  many  more  offenders, 
brought  before  a  cabin  council — ^It  aeema  to  go  hard  with 
then,  bot  a  timely  inteimptioniDterposeB  between  them  and 
theaentence  .....    Page  1 


CaAPTsa  II. — ^The  Court  of  Condemnation  interrupted — A 
miaBion  arrirea  that  provea  mischieroua — Captain  Firebrasa 
grows  nsofre  ftuiona,  but  out  of  fury  mercy  ia  bQrn-<-The 
fiunily  %nre-head  of  the*  Old  Glory  aayed— for  a  time       16 

Cbiptib  in. — Captain  Firebrasa  grows  quite  parental  in  his 
care  for  his  family— Buys  cosmetics  for  them,  and  paints 
their  fiioea  The  gloiy  of  the  said  family— The  honouxs  paid 
to  then— They  mysteriously  disappeaz^— The  consternation 
of  the  officers,  and  the  agony  of  the  Captain— Job  was  not 
the  only  man  in  affliction  who  found  comforters  Si 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  IV «— Consists  onlj  of  a  fewDecessaiy  introductions, 
and  a  little  dissertation  upon  character — the  perusal  of 
which  ought  not  to  be  omitted,  though  the  author  has 
attempted  to  be  sensible  .  .  .48 

Chapter  V.— Sir  Edward,  in  search  ofbad  news,  finds  a  wife 
maj  be  had  for  the  asking — Bandies  compliments  with  a 
lawyer — Gets  the  worst  of  it,  and  a  little  fright  into  the  bar- 
gain— If  the  spoon  must  be  long  for  the  man  who  eats  soup 
with  the  dark  one,  how  should  he  be  furnished  when  he 
goes  to  dine  with  an  attorney  t— A  few  secrets  in  paragraph- 
writing  .  .  .  .  •  .68 

Chapter  VI. — To  our  own  great  satisfaction  we  get  afloat 
again — We  make  our  acquaintance  more  intimate  with  Jack 
— He  does  the  amiable  with  the  gods  and  goddesses  of 
the  figure-head — They  cut  and  run,  and  leave  him  in  the 
lurch — Jack  in  his  hammock,  and  in  much  jeopardy   .      85 

Chapter  VII. — Loose  thoughts  on  the  lust  for  wealth — How 
to  make  lords  of  your  distant  posterity— Much  about  pe* 

.  digree  and  pettifogging,  and  other  matters  as  dry  as  an  old 
parchment  •  .  .101 

Chapter  VIII.-— Off  to  sea  again — Jack  still  afloat,  and  in  a 
scrape— Makes  a  bad  band  at  saring  his  back~-Things 
look  dismal — Jack  in  the  bilboes,  and  the  captain  bilious — 
The  captain  of  marines  manoeuvring  with  a  long  story     1^4 

Chapter  1X«— One  foot  on  sea,  and  one  on  shore— Constant 
never^-Much  about  love  and  law ;  the  law  viewed  lovingly, 
and  the  love  lawfully — Good  advice  ill  received,  and  a  very 
intereating  conversation  upon  matters  matrimonial       .    130 


CONTEXTS.  XV 

Cbaptxb  X^ — Intdrrapdona — A  long  leeaoD  od  magnanimit/ 
— A  nee  betfreen  trorldlj  interest  ind  bigb  principle ; 
for  once  higb  principle  trios;  upon  which  ensae  high 
moires,  and,  sing^arly  enough,  tber  are  acted  up  to— 
Socb  things  sometimes  happen  in  novels      •  .150 

CmArtsM  Xl«— On  board  the  Glory  again — The  marine  offi- 
cer's jaro — ^Amiable  ioterraptioos — The  skipper  plays  ex- 
positor— How  to  go  in  cbsse  of  your  nose,  and  to  recorer 
it — ^Att  excellent  and  pleasant  moral  may  be.  extracted  from 
a  Tery  bad  and  an  unpleasant  dream  161 

Cntma  XII.»-Tfae  laws  of  gallantry  as  respects  our  gallant 
tsi»— Tbe  bnmboat  woman  and  her  daughter,  and  love  in 
a  bimboat^A  lower-deck  romance— Jack  in  trouble  with 
two  comforters— A  touch  of  the  heroic  very  vulgarly  touched 
upon— Specimens  of  nautical  orations,  in  ichich  delicacy 
is  a  little  sacriBced  to  yigour — All  bands  turned  up  to 
see  the  sea  captain  turn  over  the  leaves  of  the  articles  of 

.  .  •  •     176 


Cbaptcb  Xni. — ^The  miseries  of  suspense-mental  not  so  soon 
over  as  suspense-cervical-^A  little  touch  of  the  classical 
produced  by  a  contemplation  of  the  bnmboat  woman — 
Much  excitement  and  anxiety— Change  for  a  penny  wanted 
— Captain  Firebrass  uncivil  .  .198 

CBAPTtn  XIV. — ^The  skipper  in  a  fair  way  of  being  dis- 
appointed— Blutiny  in  the  shore-boats,  and  something  near 
it  OB  board — The  Old  Glory  boarded  and  taken — Change 
for  a  penny  procured  at  last — Much  edification  attempted 
— ^The  man  of  law  gets  the  better  of  the  man  of  war — and 
omch  hostility  terminated  in  an  amicable  conference  .    213 


XVI  CONTENTS. 

Chaptbr  XV.— Jack,  being  oast  off,  has  a  yery  pleasant 
meetings—Much  exhilaration,  and  more  exaltation,  with 
some  explanation  that  makes  matters  more  confosed — Jack 
trims  sails,  trims  himself,  and  gives  Poll  a  trimmings— Very 
hnmbly  makes  for  the  cabin,  and  plays  the  great  man  with- 
out knowing  it  .....    230 

Chaptbr  XVI.— Jack's  going  on  shore— Much  argufication, 
which  goes  only  to  prove  Jack  a  good  fellow— The  ladies  in 
his  way,  and  thus  he  is  waylaid,  as  be  makes  his  way 
to  land — On  the  way  gets  into  cold  water,  which  gets  him 
into  hot  wateih— A  lawyer's  speculations  •  .    248 

Chaptbr  XVII.— Jack's  ashore— Most  triumphant  doings — 
Deputations  of  the  tribes  go  forth  to  meet  him— He  is  half 
killed  with  kindness — ^The  law  at  a  discount,  and  honesty 
not  yet  at  par— A  lawyer's  soliloquy  .  •    273 

Chaptbr  XVIII.— Polly  political— Does  the  gracious  and  the 
grand,  and  borrows  money  with  all  the  nonchalance  of  a  lady 
of  quality- Jack  grows  dignified,  and  a  judge  of  music, 
and  a  little  more  sober  and  sensible— A  lawyer  at  a  nonplus 
—Makes  a  motion,  and  takes  nothing  by  it     .  .    290 


JACK    ASHORE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Heuts  of  oak  are  onr  ships,  hearts  of  oak  are  our  men/' 

Old  Sono. 


SoBie  account  of  the  Old  Glory,  begniiing  with  her  stem  ;  and 
ofhercaptain,  heginniog  with  his  head^-Britannia,  Fame, 
Old  Ocean,  and  many  more  offenders,  brought  before  a  cabin 
eooncil — ^It  seems  to  go  hard  with  them,  bat  a  timely  in- 
tomption  interposes  between  them  and  the  sentence. 

Did  any  person  yet  hear  tell  of  what  liecame  of 
the  figure-head  of  the  jolly  Old  Glory  ?  We 
think  that  we  may  safely  take  it  upon  ourselves 
to  say  that  that  mystery  has  never  been — ay, 

VOL.   I.  B 


4  JACK    ASHOfiE. 

eDcircled  something  closely  resembling  a 
Smyrna  fig-jar,  out  of  which  rushed  a  wooden 
stream  of  water.  Whom  this  venerable  old 
man  was  meant  to  represent,  it  was  never  satis- 
factorily decided.  Some  said  he  was  Old  Ocean 
himself,  and  Neptune's  own  father,  whilst  others 
maintained  that  he  was  only  Father  Thames. 
However,  he  looked  very  dignified  with  his 
copper  nose  ;  for  having  lost  his  wooden  one  by 
a  discharge  of  grape  (this  grape  has  always 
been  inimical  to  the  human  nose)  in  Lord 
Howe's  action,  he  was  fitted  with  a  copper 
substitute,  and  it  was  as  goodly  a  nasality  as 
ever  yet  was  gathered  in  the  promontory  of 
noses. 

These  three  figures,  Britannia,  Fame,  and 
the  dubious  old  man,  occupied  the  front  row, 
for  the  lion  was,  though  couchant,  a  little  ad- 
vanced ;  but  behind  these,  Graces,  and  hand- 
maidens, and  little  boys  and  girls,  blended 
together  in  most  amicable  confusion.  What 
they  were  doing,  or  were  supposed  to  be  doing, 
was  as  great  a  mystery  as  what  became  of  them 
all.     True,  as  no  possible  occupation  could  be 


JACK    ASHORE.  O 

assigned  for  them,  either  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  heneath,  or  the  waters  upon  or  under  the 
earth,  they  must  have  had  their  apotheosis,  and 
gone  off  straight  to  the  heavens  above. 

In  a  word,  this  figure-head  was  so  large  and 
so  numerous,  that  it  was  as  much  the  annoy- 
ance as  it  was  the  pride  of  the  crew  of  the 
Glory ;  for  the  group  occupied  so  much  room 
in  the  space  circumscribed  by  the  head-rails, 
that  there  was  barely  room  enough  left  to  wash  a 
shirt  in  the  middle  watch,  or  to  decide  a  point 
of  honour  pugilistically  between  any  two  jolly 
tars  who  might  happen  to  have  some  little  affair 
€f  the  sort  upon  their  fists. 

There  is  no  doubt  at  all  in  this  world, 
and  a  great  deal  less  in  any  other,  but  that 
Admiral  Lord  Gambroon  was  a  good  and 
worthy  man ;  that  is  to  say,  if  we  take  him  at 
his  own  estimation,  and  at  that  of  his  admirers. 
But  he  was  one  of  those  good  men  who  do  a 
great  deal  of  mischief;  and  we  are  inclined  to 
believe  that  the  disappearance  of  the  figure- 
head of  the  Glory  might  be  very  fairly  trace 


b  JACK    ASHORE. 

able  to  his  lordship,  though  we  do  not  venture 
to  speak  positively  as  to  that  matter. 

But,  positively,  and  very  positively  indeed, 
we  will  speak  to  this — that  the  captain  of  the 
old  Glory  was  one  of  the  most  irascible  of  all 
the  sea-captains  that  ever  strove  to  swear  down 
a  storm,  or  to  out-hurricane  a  hurricane.  Fy 
upon  you.  Captain  Firebrass!  do  you  think 
that  men's  eyes  and  limbs,  bodies  and  souls, 
were  only  created  for  you  to  damn  into  all  manner 
of  heaps,  masses,  infinities,  infernalities,  parts, 
and  particles  ?  We  are  ashamed  of  you,  Captain 
Firebrass,  and  seriously  ask  you  if  you  ever 
expect  to  go  to  the  glory  above,  if  you  make 
such  a  swearing  ship  of  your  Glory  below  ? 

Not  that  Firebrass  was  a  cruel  man-— far, 
very  far  from  it;  he  punished  less  than  any 
captain  in  the  fleet — ^he  loved  his  men — ^he  was 
their  friend  in  health,  and  their  very  father  in 
sickness.  But  though  he  kept  them  at  once  in 
love  and  fear  of  him,  he  could  not  keep  his 
temper;  a  burst  of  passion  was,  to  him,  no- 
thing more  than  a  gentle  excitement-— a  rage  was 
a  relief. 


JACK   ASHORK.  7 

Now,  when  Firebrass  first  took  the  command 
of  the  Glory,  he  rather  disliked  her  elaborate 
figure>head.    He  snuffed  his  nose  up  at  it  in  a 

r^ular  Cambrian  rage,  d d  it  through  all 

his  rich  variations  of  commination,  as  being  in 
execrable  taate^  as  holding  too  much  wind,  and 
by  its  weight  straining  the  head  timbers.  But 
his  hate  was  soon  changed  to  love»  his  con- 
tempt to  admiration,  and  his  wish  to  de- 
stroy to  an  imxiety  to  preserve  it,  as  he 
would  his  own  good  name,  or  the  honour  of 
his  country. 

But,  before  we  tell  you  how  this  love  on  the 
part  of  Captain  Firebrass  for  his  figure-head 
was  begotten,  cherished,  and  how  it  grew  up 
to  such  a  pitch  of  enthusiasm,  we  will  tell  you 
a  little  about  the  captain  himself.  He  was  a 
small,  oompactly^built  man  of  fifty — a  man 
who  had  certainly  been  handsome,  but  now  his 
wiry  and  curliug  gray  hair,  and  the  eager  rest- 
lessness of  his  features,  made  him  appear  cer- 
tainly old,  and  constructively  ugly.  We  say 
constructively,  for  the  features  were,  in  them- 
selves, regular,  his  eye  was  sharp  and  black. 


8  JACK   ASHORE. 

and  his  teeth  perfect.     Perhaps  the  colour  of 
his  couDtenance  was  its  most  offending  quality : 
it  was  of  a  lively,  universal  red.    Nothing  but 
his  head-rail  {vulguse^  teeth)  was  white,  or  ap- 
proaching to  white,  about  it.     Even  the  parts 
of  the  eye  that  are  called  its  whites,  were^  in 
him,  so  reticulated  by  bloodshotten  veins,  that 
they  were  nearly  as  red  as  the  lips  of  a  lady  who 
has  just  used  a  cosmetic.     You  fancied,  as  you 
looked  upon  him,  that  by  some  strange  process, 
chemical  or  magical,  he  had  been  made  red-hot, 
and  that  he  intended  so  to  remain  whilst  he  lived. 
The  phenomenon  of  Bardolph's  nose  was  that 
of  Firebrass^s  whole  man.     He  could  always 
heat  his  own  bath,  and  that  is  something  in  so 
chilly  a  climate  as  ours. 

Irritable  men  are,  in  general,  honest  We 
do  not,  by  this,  mean  to  say  that  it  is  a  universal 
axiom — very  far  from  it;  but  people  of  the 
irritable  temperament  seldom  give  themselves 
time  enough  to  enable  them  to  deceive.  Fire- 
brass  was  the  plainest  speaking  man  in  the 
whole  Channel  fleet ;  and,  in  such  an  aggregate 
of  plain  speakers,  that  is  saying  a  great  deal. 


JACK    ASHORE.  9 

thoagfa  it  is  not  saying  more  than  was  actually 
the  truth.  He  hated  hypocrisy,  and  was  too 
esger  to  attribute  that  vice  to  all  who  laid 
daim  to  anything  more  than  the  current  reli- 
gion and  morality  of  the  day,  or  of  the  dass  in 
which  he  mingled.  Our  friend,  the  reader, 
may  depend  upon  it,  that  the  anecdote  we 
are  going  to  relate  belongs  to  Firebrass, 
and  to  none  other,  though  it  has  been  at- 
tributed to  several  very  gallant  officers.  It  is 
as  follows. 

After  the  memorable  and  very  brilliant  vic- 
tory of  the  first  of  June,  when  the  captains  who 
had  so  bravely  assisted  to  gain  it  had  assembled 
00  board  the  commander-in-chiers  ship^  to 
congratulate  that  gallant  admiral,  and  to  felici- 
tate each  other,  Rear-admiral  Lord  Gambroon, 
of  course,  took  the  lead.  Upturning  his  eyes, 
as  if  to  make  a  shrewd  guess  as  to  the  height 
of  the  mizentop,  and  folding  his  hands  very  de- 
niarely  before  him,  he  snuffled  out,  in  a  tone 
more  suitable  to  the  conventicle  than  the  quar- 
ter-deck— 

B  5 


10  9ACK  A8U0RK. 


'*  We  have  gained  a  glorious  victory,  and  I 
prayed  for  it.*^ 

At  this  very  commendable  observation,  the 
impatience  of  our  Firebrass  burst  forth;  so, 
thrusting  his  inflammable  visage  close  to  the 
pale  features  of  the  saintly  admiral,  he  said, 
very  improperly,  and,  we  must  remark,  very 
impiously, 

"  You  prayed  for  it,  did  you,  my  lord  ? 
Then  you  got  it  damned  easily,  for  I  fought 
for  it-** 

We  are  sorry  to  record  that  this  observation 
was  received  with  more  mirth,  and  even  appro- 
bation, than  it  ought  to  have  been ;  and  we  only 
record  it  at  all,  in  order  the  more  fully  to  elu- 
cidate this  profane  captain's  character.  How- 
ever, as  meek  and  right-minded  Christians,  we 
have  the  consolation  of  knowing,  that  if  Captain 
Firebrass  did  not  repent  and  reform  in  his 
latter  days,  he  will  certainly  not  go  to  the  same 
place  as  Lord  Gambroon. 

The  admiral  did  not  relish  this  repartee,  so 
he  reproved  Firebrass  for  making  it ;  and,  as 


JACK   ASHORE.  11 

it  may  be  easily  judged  how  acceptable  a  thing 
reproof  was  to  a  man  of  the  captain  of  the 
Glory^s  character,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  this  very  nearly  proved  a  court- 
martial  business.  It  neither  increased  the 
oflTender's  love  for  the  person  nor  the  principles 
of  his  lordship^  though  it  proved  the  abound- 
ing cause  of  love  for  the  once  undervalued 
figure4iead« 

Captain   Firebrass  was  in  the  very  act  of 
holdiog  a  council  of  condemnation  upon  the  re- 
nowned group  that  we  have  taken   so  much 
trouble  to  describe.    In  this  jury  of  destruction 
he  was  assisted  by  his  first  lieutenant,  the  mas- 
ter, the  boatswain,  and  the  carpenter.    They 
said  all  manner  of  scandalous  things  about  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  who  occupied  a  station 
80  prominent.     The  first  lieutenant  had  vilified 
it  as  a  matter  of  taste ;  Britannia  herself  was 
not  half  so  handsome  as  Molly  Tearaway,  of 
the    Halfway-houses;    the  Graces  were  mere 
trollops,  and  no  decent  Jack  would  pick  the 
best  of  tbem  up  in  High-street,  unless  he  had 
just  come  off  a  long  cruise ;  and  as  to  Madam 


12  JACK   ASHORE. 

Fame,  she  was  a  disgrace  to  the  sex ;  to  say 
nothing  of  the  false  nose  of  the  old  man  with 
the  fig-jar. 

The  master  was  rather  favourable  to  the  com- 
pany than  otherwise^  seeing  that  he  did  not 
think  the  undressed  ladies  quite  so  ugly  as  the 
first  lieutenant  wished  to  make  them  appear. 
Comparisons  were  odious;  but,  as  a  married 
man,  he  had  some  right  to  speak  on  these  mat- 
ters ;  this,  however,  he  would  say,  that  if  Mrs. 
Trestletree,  the  good  lady  his  wife,  had  but 
half  so  quiet  a  tongue  in  her  head  as  the 
worst  of  them,  all  he  could  say  was,  that 
perhaps  he  might  not  be  so  anxious  to  go 
foreign.  The  little  boys  and  girls,  and  some 
of  the  ladies,  were  stark-naked,  it  was  true; 
but  a  dab  of  paint,  or  a  few  feet  of  half-inch, 
and  that  would  be  remedied ;  besides,  he 
must  confess,  that,  being  a  family  man,  he 
had  no  objection  to  the  children,  and  as  they 
neither  asked  for  bread  and  butter,  nor  cried, 
besides  getting  their  faces  washed  for  nothing 
whenever  there  was  anything  of  a  head  sea, 
which  made  them  very  cleanly,  he  thought  that 


JACK    ASHORK.  13 

tbey  might  remain  a  little  longer  where  they 
were — unless  the  captain  wished  them  removed. 

The  boatswain  confessed  that  they  ran  him 
pretty  rigs  with  the  running  rigging.  Though 
their  faces  were  so  fair,  something  was  always 
getting  foul  among  them  ; — in  fact,  cleanly  as 
Mr.  Trestletree  said  they  were,  they  were 
always  fouling  the  sheets — the  fore^staysail  and 
jib-sheets  especially.  Yet,  after  all,  he  bore 
them  no  enmity,  and  he  should  be  sorry  to  see 
them  condemned  without  a  hearing.  What 
the  good  boatswain  meant  by  his  last  observa- 
tion was  never  fully  explained. 

The  carpenter  was  for  their  destruction 
wholly  and  totally.  They  always  required 
mcwe  paint  than  they  were  worth,  and  were 
ooDtinually  losing  their  features  and  their  mem- 
bers. When  these  losses  were  replaced,  they 
never  gave  satisfaction.  It  took  more  time  to 
make  a  little  finger  for  Fame  than  to  make  a 
new  maintopmast;  then  she  was  continually 
kising  the  head  of  her  trumpet ;  and  the 
children  were  always  in  want  of  something. 
The  only  difficulty  with  the  carpenter  was  how 


14  JACK  ASHORB. 

to  occupy  the  space  when  the  group  should  be 
removed. 

At  this  precise  moment  the  discussion  took 
another  turn. 


JACK   ASHOKB.  15 


CHAPTER  II. 


Hearts  of  ode  are  oar  ships ;  jollj  tais  are  our  men/* 


Tte  Court  of  CoDdernDStion  interrapted — A  miisioii  arrires 
tliat  proves  mischieTOos — Captain  Hrefarass  grows  more 
fiuioas.  Vat  oat  of  fary  mercj  is  born— The  famil/  figure* 
head  of  the  Old  Glorj  sared — for  a  time. 

We  left  our  five  worthies  in  deep  debate,  in 
which  it  was  very  apparent  that,  as  their  minds 
were  made  up  before  the  debating  commenced^ 
their  unanimity  of  opinion  would  be  won- 
derful when  the  form  of  the  debating  should 
cease.  Not  one  of  the  parties  so  engaged,  but, 
up  to  the  very  last  moment,  would  have  main- 
tained stoutly  that  the  Old  Glory  would  shortly 
be  deprived  of  that  worst  of  all  encumbrances, 
a  numerous  family. 


16  JACK    ASHORE. 

Captain  Firebrass  was  at  a  loss  only  as  to 
the  manner  of  getting  rid  of  them — whether 
he  should  enter  it  upon  his  log-book  that  they 
were  washed  overboard  in  a  gale  of  wind,  or 
endeavour  to  remove  them  more  legally  and 
fairly  by  signing  a  certificate  that  their  weight 
caused  the  ship  to  labour,  or  to  compass  their 
destruction  by  the  means  of  favouritism  and 
solicitation.  Never  had  a  family  so  innocent, 
enemies  so  numerous  and  so  implacable.  But 
their  hour  of  triumph  was  at  hand — their  day 
of  renovation  was  dawning ;  they  were  about 
to  commence  a  new  existence  of  honour,  of  mag- 
nificence ;  and  pride  was  to  bow  down  before 
them,  and  to  be  humbled.  But  this  course  of 
glory  was  to  last  neither  for  years  nor  months 
— ^they  were  to  blaze  forth  like  a  comet,  and 
to  depart  for  ever  and  for  ever. 

The  Glory  was,  at  this  time,  lying  at  anchor 
with  the  rest  of  the  Channel  fleet  at  Spithead. 
The  court-martial  on  the  figure-head  was  pro- 
ceeding in  the  cabin,  when  an  officer  entered, 
with  a  letter  from  the  Rear-admiral  Lord  6am- 
broon.     This  was  sufficient  to  disturb  all  Cap- 


JACK    ASHORE.  17 

tain  Firebrass^s  calmoefls.  He  daDoed  about 
with  the  letter  in  his  band,  nearly  choked  by 
the  multiplicity  of  oaths  that  were  crowding  up 
his  throat  for  utterance;  at  length  twenty 
Kemed  to  rush  forth  simultaneously,  which 
aSbrded  him  so  much  relief  that  he  was  enabled 
to  break  the  seal,  and  he  then  commenced  read- 
ing aloud. 

^* '  Dear  sir  !^ — how  dare  he  dear  me  !  dear 
derfl !  The  canting  psalm-singings  hymn- 
chanting,  hypocritica],  old  stave-spoiling,  brim- 
stone-singed sinner.** 

''  Who,  sir  T*  said  the  first  lieutenant,  half 
tremblingly,  half  soothingly. 

"  Who,  sir  ?"  replied  the  irate  man  ;  **  who, 
dr?  What^s  that  to  you,  sir.^ — damn  you, 
dr.    '  Dear  sir ;'  oh  !    I'd  dear  him.     Tarred 

and    feathered.      Cocks  and  hens ! — d n  * 

hencoops !  Zounds !  blood  and  ouns  I^'  And 
with  ToUeys  of  such  amiable  interruptions 
be  at  length  finished  the  missive.  Yea,  mis- 
dve;  we  use  the  word  advisedly,  and  with  no 
possible  disrespect  to  the  dogmas  of  the  school 
of  fuhionable  novel  writers..  On  any  other  occa- 


c 

the 
hes 
wei 
en(! 
faj. 


JACK    ASHORE.  19 

harp-phying  eaptain's  clerk,  who  was  quill- 
driTiDg  at  the  rate  of  twelve  knots  an  hour^  iu 
a  remote  and  dark  comer  of  the  cabin.  In  the 
mean  time,  the  gmff  old  boatswain  had  smoothed 
out  the  paper,  until  it  bore  something  of  its 
original  shape,  and  held  it  up  daintily  by  one 
corner.  Whilst  this  was  doing,  the  captain 
went  to  pull  his  clerk's  ear — a  very  vicious 
haUt  he  had  fallen  into,  having  long  ago  case- 
hardened  that  humble  official  against  the  im- 
pression of  aU  manner  of  oaths. 

Now  when  Captain  Firebrass  had  seized  the 
delinquent's  ear,  his  first  lieutenant  also  seized 
something  more  to  the  purpose,  and  that  was 
the  opportunity  of  telling  his  brother  officers  of 
the  council  of  condemnation  on  the  figure-head, 
that  the  skipper  was  in  a  towering  passion,  and 
that  they  should,  to  prevent  everything  from 
turning  blue,  condemn  the  whole  group  at 
once,  cut  it  up  for  firewood,  and  expend  in  the 
ship's  log  by  blowing  it  overboard  in  the  first 
Channel  breeze  that  crossed  the  ship's  bows. 

After  the  ear-pulling,  with  the  operator's 
grin,  and  the  patient's  squeak,  had  been  duly 
perfcHined,  the  captain  strode  again  towards  the 


20  JACK    ASHORE. 

table,  and  staring  his  officers  full  in  the  face, 
roared  out,  **  Well,  gentlemen,  demmee  !** 

**  Sir,"  said  the  first  lieutenant^  very  humbly, 
**  with  all  due  submission  we  are  agreed.  The 
first  night  we  are  out  at  sea,  we'll  unship  the 
whole  squad,  expend  them  in  a  gale,  and  cut 
them  up  for  firewood.  We're  all  agreed,  sir — 
we*ll  do  it — bless  my  heart  !'* 

And  well  might  the  first  lieutenant  beg  a 
blessing  on  his  heart;  for,  as  he  spoke  that  which 
he  considered  to  be  words  of  satisfaction  and 
pleasure  to  his  commanding  officer,  that  very 
irrational  person  was. growing  blue  and  livid 
with  rage.  He  had  extended  his  arms,  and 
viciously  grasped  with  either  hand  one  side  of 
the  table,  and  thus  stooping  over  it,  he  brought 
his  head  well  forward,  and  rolled  his  eyes 
furiously  at  his  startled  officers.  They  retreat- 
ed, each  two  paces,  in  alarm.  At  first,  a  sufii>- 
cated  and  gurgling  noise  only  was  to  be  heard 
in  the  captain's  throat.  The  oaths,  in  the  boat- 
swain's language,  "  were  tumbling  up."  The 
explosion  at  length  took  place ;  but  the  com- 
mencement consisted  only  of  a  mass  of  almost 
inarticulate  and  disjointed  interjections  ;    when 


JACK    ASHORE.  21 

these  had  a  little  subsided,  the  words  were  some- 
thing in  this  fashioD : — 

*•  Dare  ye  ?    Dare  ye  ?     D — n  ye  !     Would 
ye  dare  tweak  me!   FirebrassI  by  the  uose? 
Would  you  spit  upon  roe — would  ye  kick  me, 
ye  mutineers,  would  ye  ?    Don't  speak — I  know 
you  would  sooner  be  eternally  and  intensely 
d  —  d  first ;  touch  a  single  joint,  a  hair  of  the 
head,   or   a  toe-nail  of   that  glorious  group ! 
sooner  than  any  man  should  do  such  a  thing 
my  nose  shall  be  tweaked,  my  seat  of  honour 
kicked,  and  I,  Captain  Firebrass,  will  become 
the  walking  spittoon  for  the  loblolly-boy.  There 
is  not  now  a  person  in  that  figure-head  that  I 
do  not  love,  honour,  and  adore.     The  purser 
shall  victual  them  every  man  jack — ^lion  and  all. 
They  shall  all  be  rated  A.  B.  on   the  ship'^s 
hooks;  and  1*11  make  petty  officers  of  the  little 
boys  and  girls.     You  grin,  do  you ;    but  the 
money   shall  come   out    of   my    own    pocket. 
Zoands !  blood  and  fury !     I  know  as  well  as 
you,  ye  lubbers,  that  they  can  neither  eat  nor 
drink,  grog  it  or  prog  it ;  but  they  can  spend 
their  pay  in  paint ;    sba'n't  they  look  fine  to- 


22  JACK   ASHOBK. 

morrow  ? — prankt  up  like  May  morning.  Oh  ! 
the  incarnate,  canting,  hypocrite.  Don't  speak 
yet,  Tauthause  —  don't  —  I  can't  bear  it,  and 
I^'m  not  mad  either ;  but  only  read  that,  and 
say,  as  an  honest  sailor  ought  to  speak,  if  it  is 
not  enough  to  make  one  so  ?  " 

Mr.  Tauthause,  the  first  lieutenant,  having 
duly  received  the  missive  from  the  tarry-fisted 
boatswain,  put  on  as  much  of  a  parson^s  face  as 
he  could  assume,  and  prepared  to  read,  whilst 
Captain  Firebrass  prepared  to  listen.  This 
preparation  was  no  easy  affair  to  the  latter.  He 
went  to  it  as  loathingly  as  would  a  man  who  is 
told  to  take  the  easiest  position  possible,  in 
order  that  he  may  be  comfortably  hung.  He 
did,  however,  the  best  that  he  could*  He  sat 
himself  down  on  one  of  the  chairs,  and  placing 
his  right  leg  over  the  left,  he  passed  round  the 
former,  just  above  the  knee,  a  silk  handker- 
chief, after  the  manner  of  a  tourniquet,  and 
thus,  the  angrier  he  grew,  as  his  lieutenant 
read  on^  the  tighter  he  drew  his  voluntary  in- 
strument of  torture,  thus  making,  as  much  as 
it  .was  possible,  physical  neutralise  mental  irri- 


JACK    ASHORE.  23 

tatioD.     The  offending  document  was  to  the 
following  effect : — 

(Private.) 

*'  H.M.S. ,  at  anehor  off  Spitiiead, 

Jane  7th.  1797. 

"  Dear  Sir, — I  would  roost  gladly,  on  this 
occasion,  address  you  as  a  brother  Christian, 
and  attempt  to  awake  in  your  bosom  a  sense  of 
that  future  state  which  awaits  sinners,  where 
there  shall  be  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth.  I 
do  not  mean  anything  offensive  to  you  as  an 
officer  and  as  a  man  of  honour,  but  speak  out 
of  the  dear  love  that  I  bear  to  a  soul  in  a  state 
of  reprobation,  when  I  tell  you,  that  unless 
yon  repent,  and  that  speedily,  you  will  soon 
find  yourself  so  far  gone  on  the  broad  path 
that  leads  to  eternal  damnation,  that  you  will 
be  a  castaway,  and  expiate  your  sins  in  a 
manner  to  which  I  will  but  barely  allude. 

^  But  all  this  is  only  matter  for  your  private 
consideration.  I  wish  to  communicate  with  you 
on  what  may  be  justly  called  public  grounds, 
and  I  hope  that  I  may  have  to  congratulate 


24  JACK    ASHORE. 

you  OD  something  like  a  glimpse  of  the  true 
light  having  dawned  upon  your  darkened  un- 
derstanding.    It  has  been  reported  to  me,  by 
several  persons,  that  you  have  spoken  as  being 
much    dissatisfied    with    the    cumbrous,     the 
heathen,  and  the  wicked  group  of  idolatry,  that 
is  a  scandal  to  a  religious  mind,  and  which  i& 
so  conspicuous  on  the  head  of  the  ship  now  under 
your  command.     I  will  not  now  say  anything 
of  the  indecency  of  continually  exposing  images 
of  nakedness  to  the  eyes  of  the  tender  youth 
and  innocence  on  board  of  the  Glory.     What  I 
most  complain  of  is,  that  a  sort  of  altar  should 
thus  be  raised,  as  it  were,  to  the  false  gods  of 
the   heathen   mythology.      There  is    a    great 
scope  for  doing  true  religion  a  service  now  in 
your  power.     By  a  judicious  use  of  paint,  the 
three  principal  figures  may  be  turned  into  per- 
sonifications of   Faith,    Hope,    and    Charity, 
which  are  a  Christianas  true  glory.     The  lion, 
according  to  the  spirit  of  the  holy  word,  may 
be,  by  the  assistance  of  the  carver,  turned  into 
a  lamb ;  and  with  the  addition  of  six  or  seven 
pairs  of  wings,  which  will  not  cost  more  than 


JACK    ABHORS.  25 

three-aod-fourpeDce  a  pair,  the  naked  little 
boys  and  girls  may  be  made  to  represent 
cbenibim  and  seraphim. 

"  As  these  alterations  will,  I  know,  put  you 
to  some  expense,  and  as  I,  humble  sinner  that 
I  am,  would  willingly  have  a  hand  in  the  good 
work,  I  gladly  make  over  to  you  all  my  in- 
terest in  a  debt  owing  to  me  by  one  Phineas 
Hordecai,  who  resides  in  Portsea,  and  although 
he  resists  payment,  yet  the  law,  judiciously 
aoid  actively  employed,  will  doubtless  enforce  it. 

*^  Enclosed  you  will  find  a  sketch  of  the 
Christian  alterations  that  you  will  make  in  the 
group,  and  also  my  order  on  the  said  Phineas 
Hordecai. 

"  As  this  communication  must  be  considered 

as  non-offidal,  you  will  act  up  to  the  well-meant 
suggestions  it  contains,  according  to  the  light 
and  grace  that  are  in  you  ;  but  scx>ner  than  that 
heap  of  idolatry  should  remain,  should  you  be 
disinclined  to  alter  it  conformably  to  gospel 
views,  I  would  join  you  by  using  my  interest 
with  the  authorities  to  get  the  abomination  re- 

VOL.  I.  C 


26  JACK   ASHORE. 

moved  entirely,   substituting   instead   a  plaie 
bust,  or  a  scroll,  or  a  fiddle-head. 

**  Yours  in  the  covenant, 

Gambroon/* 

Now,  the  latter  proposition  in  his  lordship's 
kindly-intentioned  missive  was,  two  hours  be- 
fore Captain  Firebrass  received  it,  the  thing  the 
latter  most  desired  to  see  effected.  But  now  he 
would  as  soon  have  parted  with  his  right  arm 
as  with  the  least  fragment  of  the  group. 
They  had  become  precious  to  him  in  their 
totality. 

When  the  reading  of  this  epistle  had  con- 
cluded, the  captain  had  so  much  tightened  his 
tourniquet,  that  he  had  stopped  the  circulation 
in  the  leg  below  it ;  and  when  he  attempted  to 
advance  to  give  his  orders,  he  first  stumbled, 
and  then  was  obliged  to  hop ;  and  this  he  con- 
tinued to  do  for  some  time,  for  his  rage  had 
not  permitted  him  to  remember  the  cause  of 
his  self-imposed  suffering. 

But  all  things  must  have  an  end,  and  such 


JACK  ASHOBE.  27 

passions  as  our  friend  fell  into  could  not,  from 
their  very  intensity,  endure  without  destro\ing 
the  individual  who  gave  way  to  them.  The 
sense  of  the  ridiculous  came  to  his  relief;  he 
sat  down  again  in  his  chair,  and  whilst  he 
relaxed  his  handkerchief,  himself  relaxed  into 
good  humour.  So  rubbing,  and  tenderly 
dioishing  his  still  benumbed  leg,  he  looked 
memiy  round  him,  and  everything  in  the  cabin 
was  sunshine- 

^  Come  here,  Mr.  Sneep,"  said  he  to  his 
cadaverous-looking  clerk,  *^  we  shall  sail  in  a 
day  or  so ;  you  had  better  go  home  till  the 
blue  Peter  is  flying,  and  comfort  your  poor 
mother.  By-tbe-bye,  I  think  I  owe  her  some 
ten  or  twelve  pounds.  Here^  take  it,  my  good 
boy ;  never  mind  what  she  says  about  the  debt ; 
she  is  old,  and  her  memory  not  so  good  as  it 
used  to  be.     There — make  sail.^ 

The  youth  tottered  away,  and  without  utter- 
ing a  syllable,  whilst  a  large  tear  trembled  in 
each  eye,  standing  like  two  bright  sentinels  over 
his  feelings,  for  thus  only  were  they  expressed. 

'*  A  good  lad  in   the  main,"   resumed  the. 

c  2 


t?8  JACK    A8H0BE. 

captain ;  **  but  too  apt  to  shove  his  oar  into 
the  wrong  boat.  Now,  gentlemen ;  now,  Mr. 
Tauthause,  the  Old  Glory  shall  be  young 
again  ;  we  will — I  say  we  will — be  the  gayest 
ship  in  the  fleet.  Don^t  think  that  I  am  fickle, 
but  I  have  really  fallen  in  love  with  my  glori- 
ous, family  forwards,  and  we  will  not  chasten 
those  we  love ;  let  us  go  forward  directly,  and 
see  in  what  state  our  proteges  are." 

So  forward  they  all  tumbled,  the  warrant- 
officers  much  wondering  what  should  have  in- 
duced the  captain  to  call  them  by  such  a 
terribly  hard  word,  or  words,  the  only  part  of 
which  they  thought  thiat  they  understood  was, 
that  they  were  some  kind  of  **  jays." 

Now  we  must  confess  that  this  glorious 
group  of  the  Old  Glory  had  been  hitherto 
shamefully  neglected,  the  amendment  of  the 
copper-nose  notwithstanding.  They  were  just 
then  painted  universally  of  a  dirty  lead  colour. 
Many  parts  of  their  precious  bodies  that  had 
been  united  by  means  of  iron,  or  copper  clamps, 
had  become  rusty,  and  now  appeared  as  so 
many  open  and  unsightly  wounds.     The  sur- 


JACK   ASHORE.  29 

fiux  of  their  skins  was  by  no  means  smooth, 
and  their  interesting  bands  and  faces  were 
chapped  in  a  manner  that  defied  all  the  healing 
powers  of  goose-grease.  The  story  of  King 
Log  and  the  Frogs  had  been  repeated  upon 
them.  At  first,  the  joUy  tars  had  treated  them 
with  respect  and  even  reverence,  but  familia* 
rity,  that  breeding  mother  of  contempt,  had  at 
kDgth  put  them  to  very  vile  uses  indeed. 
Sometimes,  when  a  foretopman  had  scoured  his 
trousers,  he  would,  without  the  least  remorse, 
bang  them  over  Fame^s  trumpet  to  dry ;  whilst 
jou  would  see  half  a  dozen  pairs  of  well-worn 
worsted  stockings  dangling  round  the  immortal 
wreath  with  which  she  was  crowning  Bri« 
tannia. 

Britannia,  the  empress  of  the  seas,  was  not 
more  worthily  used.  Many  a  child's  napkin 
was  hung  over  her  redoubtable  arm  when  the 
ship  was  in  port,  and  the  seamen's  wives  and 
children  were  on  board;  and,  like  Hecuba,  she 
flometimes  wore  a  dishclout  over  her  diadem. 
When  Jack  was  merry,  he  would  clap  a  pipe 
into  any  of  the  immortal  mouths   that  hap- 


30  JACK   ASHORE. 

pened  to  be  nearest,  and  the  prongs  of  Old 
Ocean^s  trident  offered  a  very  convenient  means 
to  plat  sinnet  by.  Sometimes  you  would  see  them 
dressed  in  jackets  and  trousers,  with  straw-hats 
placed  jauntily  on  their  heads,  and  sometimes 
they  were  outrageously  gay  in  all  the  red,  blue^ 
and  scarlet  finery  with  which  the  Lucretias 
that  may  be  found  on  the  Point  of  Portsmouth 
are  so  ambitious  to  decorate  their  chaste  per- 
sons. 

All  these  indignities  were  put  upon  these 
worthies  only  when  the  ship  was  in  ordinary,  or 
before  eight  bells  in  the  morning,  at  sea.  These 
contumelies,  like  insults  and  neglects  inflicted 
upon  humanity,  left  their  marks  behind.  The 
figures  were  not  what  they  used  to  be,  and  had 
the  carver  seen  them  in  their  state  of  dilapida- 
tion, if  he  had  been  a  carver  of  the  least  feel- 
ing, he  would  have  been  terribly  cut  up — 
that's  all. 

All  this,  as  it  should  be,  was  going  to  be 
speedily  reformed. 


JACK   A8HOBE.  21 


CHAPTER  III. 

Cipttiii  Firebrus  grows  quite  parental  in  bU  care  for  fail 
Cuaily— Bays  oocmetics  for  them,  aod  paints  their  facee^— 
The  gioiy  of  the  aaid  familj— The  honoars  paid  to  then— > 
Hiej  Bjsterioojdj  diaappeai^— The  ooostenation  of  the 
oficera,  and  the  agony  of  the  Captain— Job  waa  not  the  only 
in  affliction  who  foand  comfortera. 


BftiTAKNiA,  Fame,  and  the  Water-god)  bad 
been  neglected  much  more  than  it  could  have 
been  thought  possible,  and,  upon  a  close  in- 
spection, were  found  to  be  not  presentable  in 
any  decent  company  of  gods  and  goddesses  of 
any  decent  mythology.  Captain  Firebrass,  as 
he  contemplated  their  very  filthy  state,  looked 
remarkably  graven  and  it  was  supposed  that  he 
nghed  once  or  twice  in  a  manner  the  most 
affecting.   There  may  be  some  doubt  as  to  this ; 


32  7ACK    ASHORB. 

but  it  is  very  certain,  that  as  he  handled  the 
cfypper-nose  of  Old  Ocean»  he  shook  his  head 
thrice,  in  a  manner  so  rueful,  that  you  might 
have  supposed  that  he  was  in  some  state  of  con- 
cern for  the  well-doing  of  his  own. 

But  Firebrass  was  not,  on  an  emergency  of 
this  nature,  a  roan  to  consume  his  energies 
and  waste  his  time  in  idle  regrets.  He  ordered 
a  sentry  to  be  placed  immediately  over  these  now 
cherished  objects  of  bis  affection,  not  only  as  a 
sort  of  honourable  body-guard,  but  to  prevent 
the  least  indignity  being  offered  to  them,  either 
by  day  or  by  night.  The  next  thing  done,  was 
the  immediate  repair  of  the  greater  dilapida- 
tions; and  when  all  the  skill  that  he  could  con>* 
mand  on  board  was  exhausted,  the  fiery  skipper 
went  to  Portsmouth  and  engaged  the  best 
sculptors  of  whom  the  place  could  boast,  and, 
in  the  course  of  two  days,  the  whole  company, 
not  excepting  the  lion,  were  again  in  a  state  of 
pristine  youth  and  beauty,  the  ugly  old  man 
with  the  urn  particularly. 

Then  came  Sculpture's  sister  art,  Painting,  to 
crown  the  whole,     "  To  the  life,  the  very  lif^** 


JACK   A8HOmE«  33 

was  the  captain's  continual  cry.  Such  carna- 
tions !  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  was  a  young  man 
then ;  but  be  might  have  profited  by  them  I 
This  operation  Captain  Firebrass  watched  with 
the  most  intense  anxiety  and  solicitudey  spend* 
ing  whole  hours  under  the  bows  in  his  gig. 

*^  A  little  more  red  to  Fame's  larboard  cheek, 
if  you  please^  Mr.'  Varnish  I  Very  well,  that 
iriU  do  for  the  present.  Britannia's  starboard 
cat-bead  might  be  a  blush  more  rosy,  and  place 
me  a  dimple  right  amidships  on  the  lady^s 
chin*  Give  those  little  boys*  sterns  a  touch  more 
rf  colour,  if  you  please^  and,  for  variety's  sake^ 
give  the  brat  nearest  the  lion  a  carroty  poll." 

Thus  he  passed  the  live-long  day  in  making 
the  figure-head  of  the  Glory  the  most  re- 
plendent  assemblage  of  every  striking  and  glar- 
ing colour  that  the  paint-pot  could  produce. 

When  finished,  it  was  the  admiration  of  the 
fleet,  and  the  &me  thereof  travelled  on  shore. 
Gilding  had  not  been  spared,  for  wherever  a 
patch  of  gold  leaf  could  be  stuck  on,  there 
would  two  patches  be  found.  The  fame  there- 
of, as  we  have  just  stated,  reached  the  shore, 

c5 


34  lACK    ASHORE. 

and  virtuosi  tailors,  and  contemplative  butchers 
and  shoemakers,  made  parties  of  pleasure  to 
come  o£P  in  wherries  to  regard  this  stupendous 
and  happy  effort  of  art.  It  is  true,  that  the 
very  serious  part  of  the  civil  community  at 
Portsmouth  eschewed  this  exhibition,  and  for* 
bad  it  to  their  wives  and  daughters,  on  account, 
as  they  averred,  of  its  indecency  and  profligacy ; 
but,  as  this  tended  only  the  more  violently  to 
excite  the  female  curiosity  of  the  place,  there 
was  not  one  of  the  sex,  between  seven  and 
seventy,  belonging  either  to  Portsmouth,  Gos- 
port,  Portsea,  or  the  Halfway-houses,  who  could 
not  have  given  a  minute  description  of  all  the 
parts  of  this  extraordinary  sculpture. 

It  nearly  drove  Lord  Gambroon  mad ;  but, 
at  the  same  time,  it  produced  so- good  an  effect 
on  Firebrass,  that,  for  the  space  of  seven  days, 
he  was  in  a  heaven  of  a  temper. 

We  are  now  approaching  our  first  catas- 
trophe.  The  Glory  had  been  paid  off  the  day 
before,  and  when  morning  broke  she  was  found 
riding  at  single  anchor,  well  to  the  seaward,  the 
outermost  ship  of  the  fleet.     Every  one  knows 


gTACK    AAHOE£.  35 

diat  pay-day  is  the  Saturnalia  of  a  man-of-war^s 
man.  The  ship  is  one  scene  of  riot*  fore  and  aft. 
Od  that  day  drunkenness  is  not  punishable,  and 
ererything  short  of  actual  mutiny  is  winked  at 
As  almost  every  one  is  supposed  to  go  to  bed 
drunk,  it  is  barely  possible  that  a  good  look-out 
can  be  kept.  However,  it  is  always  presumed 
that  a  sufficient  number  of  marines  are  in  a 
state  to  mount  guard  at  the  different  posts 
throughout  the  ship.  The  officers,  of  course, 
do  not  take  a  part  in  this  general  departure 
from  discipline  and  sobriety. 

We  are  now  going  to  record  one  of  those 
astounding  facts  which  the  world  would  deem 
impossible^  if  they  had  not  really  happened  to 
hare  occurred.  When  day  broken  the  whole 
groups  lion  and  all,  had  disappeared  from  the 
head  of  the  Old  Glory  ;  her  glory  had  departed 
from  her;  and  what  made  the  mystery  the 
more  inscrutable,  the  marine  who  was  appointed 
sentry  over  it  had  gone  with  it.  The  whole 
had  been  removed  in  a  most  artist-like  manner. 
The  copper-bolts  by  which  it  had  been  bound 
to  the  stem  and  cutwater,  and  the  iron  guys 


36  JACK   ASHOBE« 

and  braces  that  had  steadied  and  secured  it  to 
the  different  parts  of  the  head,  had  all  been  se- 
vered with  the  proper  instruments,  and  in  a  most 
workmanlike  style.  When  once  in  the  water, 
this  disconsolate  family  would  soon  have  floated 
down  Channel  with  the  tide,  if  it  had  not  been, 
which  was  most  likely  the  case,  towed  on  shore 
by  some  wicked 'and  waggish  thief. 

The  carrying  off  and  robbing,  not  Britannia 
of  glory,  but  the  Glory  of  Britannia,  with  Fame 
also,  her  trumpet,  and  the  newly  painted  lion, 
was  generally  known  throughout  the  ship  a 
little  after  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  People 
were  growing  sober,  and  yet,  when  told  of  this 
awful  and  incredible  desertion,  they  fancied 
themselves  drunk  still,  or  that  their  informants 
were  not  themselves  sober.  Then  came  up  men 
from  below  in  fives,  tens,  and  twenties,  to  con- 
vince themselves  of  what,  even  when  seen,  they 
could  hardly  believe.  All  the  officers  were  dis> 
mayed  and  astounded.  They  felt  the  ridiculous 
light  in  which  they  would  appear  to  the  whole 
fleet,  even  if  nothing  in  the  shape  of  punish- 
ment befel  them  for  having  kept  a  look-out  so 


JACK    A8HOBK«  37 

nuserftble  and  unseamaDlike,  even  though  the 
ship  had  been  paid  off  the  day  before. 

The  first  lieutenant  was  frantic,  and  the  cap« 
tain  of  marines  wringing  his  hands  in  despair — 
pow  for  the  loss  of  the  figure*head*-now  for 
the  loss  of  his  jolly.  Now  this  jolly,  or  private 
marine,  who  had  thus  mysteriously  disappeared 
with  his  charge,  was  the  most  sedate,  steady, 
and  sober  man  on  board.  Indeed,  he  was  looked 
upon  as  something  superior  in  his  class.  That  he 
could  have  been  surprised  by  force  was  all  but 
impossible^  and  that  he  was  not  drunk  when  he 
went  on  guard  was  equally  certain.  Since  he 
had  been  in  the  ship,  he  had  never  been  known 
to  commit  any  violation  of  temperance. 

But  who  was  to  be  the  conveyer  of  the 
abhorred  tidings  to  the  unsuspecting  captain  ? 
He,  good  easy  man,  (for  such  he  was — when  he 
was  asleep,)  was  in  the  happiest  of  all  morning 
slumbers.  His  pets,  his  darlings,  were  dancing 
lovingly  around  him  in  all  manner  of  fantastic 
and  endearing  attitudes.  He  was  devising  new 
honours  and  fresh  glories  for  them,  his  dear 
pets,  his  loved  darlings,  now,  alas  !  lost  to  him 


38  JACK   ASHORE. 

for  ever.  Innocent  man  I  never  again  shall  a 
sleep  so  sweet  close  your  eyes,  or  offer  to 
your  senses  incense  in  dreams  so  pleasant,  and 
imaginations  so  attractive. 

But  all  this  while  Captain  Firebrass  dreams 
on.  Who  shall  dare  to  awake  him  to  his  misery  ? 
What  voice  is  there  that  can  unfold  the  dismal 
tale,  so  as  to  convey  with  the  baleful  tidings 
something  soothing  and  deprecatory  P  It  is  a 
desperate  service,  and  the  first  lieutenant  looked 
round  upon  the  assembled  officers,  and  vainly, 
for  volunteers.  Men  who  would  have  eagerly 
sprung  forward  to  seek 

"  The  babble  reputation,  even  in  the  cannon's  mouth,** 

now  hung  back  like  whipped  dogs  convicted 
of  pudding-stealing.  Happily  for  all  parties, 
there  was  on  board  a  third  lieutenant  of  marines, 
a  milky-faced  youth,  with  a  marvellous  paucity 
of  intellect.  He  was  the  son  of  the  valet's 
wife  of  Lord  Fitzharding  Fitzalbert,  who  was 
one  of  the  Lords  of  the  Admiralty.  This 
young  gentleman  obtained  his  commission  as 
some  slight  reward  for  the  painful  services  that 


JACV   ASHORE.  99 

his  father  had  rendered  his  country,  in  dressing 
die  hair  of  his  lordship^  and  in  permitting  his 
handsome  wife  to  take  charge  of  his  lordship's 
wardrobe.  Some  people  are  but  miserably 
rewarded  by  an  ungrateful  country :  but  we 
can't  help  that.  Young  Sep£t,  this  marine 
officer,  was  told  that  it  was  his  duty  to  report 
the  loss  of  the  marine  to  the  captain,  as  it  was 
his  turn  on  guard,  if  any  guard  had  been  kept, 
when  the  accident  occurred ;  and  **  Mr.  Sep^t," 
said  the  first  lieutenant,  **  you  may  just  men- 
tion that  the  whole  figure-head,  stock  and  fluke, 
have  deserted  with  the  marine,  and  that  the 
cutwater  is  as  bare  as  the  palm  of  my  hand; 
you  may  just  mention  that,  and  see  how  the 
captain  takes  it.'' 

**  But  what  have  I  got  to  do  with  the  figure- 
head ?"  said  young  Sep6t,  who  had  just  brains 
enough  in  his  own  to  perceive  that  it  was  a  ser- 
vice of  some  danger. 

"  Got  to  do  with  it  ?  titty  vally— everything, 
man  !  The  ladies  were,  constructively,  under 
your  especial  protection.  .The  man  who  had 
the  care  of  them  was  under  your  care.    If  you 


40  JACK   ASHORE. 

had  gone  your  rounds  with  your  guard  accord- 
ing to  the  written  orders,  I  dare  say  this  would 
not  have  happened.  However,  it's  a  mere 
trifle — the  loss  of  the  man  is  the  chief — come^  no 
time  is  to  be  lost — march  I** 

Into  the  cabin  under  the  poop  the  poor  wretch 
stole,  and  his  brother  officers,  expecting  a  speedy 
explosion,  ranged  themselves  in  two  lines  oppo- 
site the  door.  They  were  not  long  in  anxious 
expectancy.  In  the  space  of  two  minutes,  there 
was  heard  a  horrible  clattering  of  oaths,  and 
then  the  door  flew  open,  and  Mr.  Sep£t  came 
flying  through  the  doorway,  his  hair  standing 
on  end,  and  the  captain^s  foot  in  close  contact 
behind  him,  though  very  innocuously.  If  the 
pursued  was  horror-stricken,  there  was  some 
excuse  for  his  panic,  for  his  pursuer  was  in  his 
shirt,  his  white  night-cap  on  one  side  of  his  fiery 
face,  a  boot -jack  in  one  hand  and  a  water-bottle 
in  the  other — the  latter  pouring  out  its  cold 
stream  upon  his  body  unnoticed;  and  with 
these  weapons  he  was  vainly  striving  to  do 
execution  on  the  head  of  the  young  marine 
ofiicer.     Unconscious  of  his  all  but  nudity,  the 


JACK   A8HOR8.  41 

exasperated  captain  gave  chase  to  the  maindeck, 
down  which  his  victim  jumped  and  disappeared^ 
but  not  before  the  boot-jack  and  the  water* 
bottle  were  discharged  at  his  unlucky  head. 

Seeing  that  the  object  of  bis  vengeance  had 
eluded  him  for  the  present,  Captain  Firebrass 
Kerned  to  cx>me  suddenly  to  a  sense  of  his  ridi- 
culous situation,  and  seizing  a  watch-coat  that 
some  considerate  hand  held  out  to  him,  he 
enveloped  himself  therein,  and  turning  piteously 
to  the  group  of  officers,  he  exclaimed,  '<  What 
is  this  I  hear  ?'' 

Up  stepped  the  captain  of  marines  ceremo- 
niously, and  endeavouring  to  speak  and  act  as 
officially  as  possible ;  lifting  his  hat  three  inches 
from  his  head,  he  said,  **  Captain  Firebrass,  it  is 
my  painful  duty  to  acquaint  you  that  Josiah 
Gripplethwaite,  one  rank  and  file  of  Lieutenant 
Sep£t*s  subdivision  of  marines,  whilst  sentry 
over  the  figure-head,  has  disappeared." 

^*  And    the  figure-head  ?^   roared  out  the 
great-coated  impatience. 
^  Has  disappeared  with  him.** 
**  Impossible !  bitterly,  damnably,  incredibly 


42  JACK    ASHORE. 

impossible !     The  man  could  not  have  run  off 
with   Fame,  Britannia,  Old  Ocean,   the  lion, 
and  little  children,  each  of  them  as  big  again 
as  himself/' 

*^  Probably,  sir,  they  ran  qff  with  him,  for 
they  are  certainly  gone,^  said  the  surgeon, 
in  his  blandest  tone.  It  was  well  for  him,  just 
then,  that  he  was  a  privileged  person. 

^  Mr.  Tauthause,  Mr.  Tauthause,  for  God's 
sake  explain  all  this ;  if  there  be  any  truth  in 
it)  it  will  cost  some  of  you  your  commissions ;'^ 
and  Firebrass  looked  wicked  enough  to  hang 
every  third  man  on  the  spot 

^  The  night,"  said  the  first  lieutenant,  ^*  was 
foggy  and  dark,  all  the  seamen  drunk,  and  the 
marine  on  guard,  either  overpowered  or  con- 
federate with  the  thieves.  There  must  have 
been  several  employed,  for  all  the  figures  have 
been  removed,  in  a  manner  that  could  not  have 
been  excelled  by  officers  from  the  dock-yard." 

'*  T  am  utterly  astounded  !  The  thing  ap- 
pears to  be  physically  impossible.  Was  no 
alarm  given  ;  was  no  noise  heard  ?  Where  are 
all  the  officers  of  the  watch  ?^ 


JACK   ASHOBK«  48 

Thej  all  appeared  in  succesaion,  and  gave,  of 
course^  the  most  satisfactory  account  of  their 
watches  and  themselves,  and  all  sang  to  the 
oone  chorus  as  to  the  darkness  and  the  fog.  It 
was  hinted  that  the  depredators  must  have  come 
OD  board  the  day  before,  with  some  of  the 
tradesmen  and  slopsellers  who  were  admitted  on 
the  pay-day,  and  that,  after  they  had  performed 
their  work,  a  shore-boat  must  have  been  waiting 
to  tow  away  the  group  when  it  had  been  lowered 
down  into  the  sea.  As  this  was  the  only  pro- 
bable conjecture  that  could  be  offered  on  the 
occasion.  Captain  Firebrass  was  forced  to 
receive  it  for  as  much  as  it  was  worth,  and  then 
forming  a  melancholy  procession,  of  which  the 
captain  took  the  lead,  they  marched  slowly  to 
the  scene  of  desolation. 

As  Firebrass  went  forward,  every  one  gave 
him  a  wide  berth.  He  seemed  now  to  be  more 
cast  down  than  angry,  and  never  spoke  until  he 
had  placed  himself  on  the  exact  spot  in  front  of 
the  ship's  head,  on  the  cutwater,  where  yes- 
terday had  stood  in  all  her  gold  and  glory  the 
highly  rouged  goddess.      The  exchange  was  a 


44  JACK    ASHORE. 

pitiful  one.  We  have  before  said  that  Fire- 
brass  was  a  small  man,  and  the  great-coat  that 
he  had  hastily  snatched  up  to  cover  himself 
with,  did  not  at  all  add  to  the  dignity  of  hia 
appearance. 

He  stood  disconsolately  in  this  position  for 
some  time,  now  looking  into  the  water  wistfully, 
as  if  desirous  there  to  end  his  intolerable  misery 
at  once,  and  now  fiercely  around  him,  as  seeking 
for  some  victim  to  sacrifice  to  the  memory  of 
the  departed.  The  scene  was  too  acutely  mi- 
serable to  last  long,  for  suddenly  casting  his 
eyes  on  the  flag  of  the  pious  rear-admiral,  he 
doubled  his  fist  and  shook  it  menacingly  in  that 
hated  direction ;  then,  slowly  leaving  his  pro- 
minent situation,  he  walked  like  one  deprived 
of  all  that  was  dear  to  him  to  his  cabin,  now 
leaning  heavily  on  the  shoulder  of  his  first 
lieutenant,  and  now  muttering  unintelligible  and 
scarcely  audible  curses. 

When  he  had  reached  his  cabin  door,  lie 
paused,  and  grasping  the  hand  of  his  first 
lieutenant  quite  a£Pectionately,  he  spoke  thus: 
'^  My  dear  fellow,  I  feel  this  more  than  I  ought; 


JACK   ASHOBE.  4S 

I  shall  be  the  laughing-etock  of  the  fleet.  Go 
on  board  the  admiral  as  soon  as  you  think  that 
he  is  stirring,  and  make  the  best  report  you  can 
of  iL  And  hark  ye,  Tauthause,  I  am  going  to 
do  you  a  favour — a  great  favour ;  I  am  going  to 
call  that  canticle-chanting  son  of  a  dog's  lady 
out— and,  if  there  is  strength  in  gunpowder, 
m  shoot  him ;  and  you,  my  boy,  shall  be  my 
second.  Send  me  the  doctor.  A  precious  rear- 
admiral  I  Send  me  the  doctor.** 

But  the  measure  of  poor  Firebrass's  misery 
was  not  yet  full.  The  admiral  was  very  angry 
and  very  merry  at  the  same  time.  In  the  fore* 
noon  of  the  same  day,  every  captain  of  the 
fleet  had  sent  our  violent  friend  mocking  letters 
of  condolence,  with  offers  of  assistance  at  once 
ridiculous  and  tantalizing.  Firebrass  bore  all 
this  with  tolerable  equanimity — that  is  to  say, 
for  him.  He  felt  very  well  disposed  to  do  natu- 
ral justice  upon  his  tormentors,  but  the  laugh 
had  set  so  strongly  against  him,  that  at  present 
be  was  determined  to  give  way  to  a  current  of 
ridiaile  that  he  could  not,  without  exposing 
himself  to  more  annoyance,  resist. 


46  JACK   ASHORE. 

About  noon,  a  twelve-oared  yawl,  with  a 
sanctified-looking  lieutenant  in  the  stern-sheets, 
pulled  up  alongside,  and  gaining  the  quarter- 
deck, he  begged  to  speak  to  Captain  Firebrass, 
who,  stepping  forward  with  enough  of  vinegar  in 
his  countenance  to  have  pickled  a  firkin  of 
cucumbers,  was  thus  addressed : — 

*^  Rear-admiral  Lord  Gambroon  having  heard 
by  common  report,  which  report  he  has  verified 
by  his  own  observation,  that  the  ship  under 
your  [command  having  gained  a  loss,  in  the 
absence  of  the  heathen  figure-head  that  you 
had  so  tawdrily  painted,  has  sent  you,  out  of 
christian  charity,  a  very  good  apostle  Paul, 
which  I  have  now  towed  alongside.  «  His  lord- 
ship also  bids  me  say,  that  he,  the  apostle,  was 
the  '  true  Glory^^  and  that  the  admiral  has 
not  the  least  objection  to  his  being  a  substitute 
for  the  scandal  that  formerly  was  to  be  seen  as 
the  figure-head  of  the  Glory/' 

*^  Give  my  compliments  to  Rear-admiral  Lord 
Gambroon,  towinj^  him  back  his  apostle  Paul, 
and  tell  him  that  I  cannot  possibly  receive  him, 
as  I  am  certain  the  apostle  has  not  yet  preached 


JACK    ASHORE.  47 

to  his  lordship^  from  his  first  epistle  to  Timothy, 
the  second  verse  of  the  fourth  chapter ;  and 
therefore  that  his  ministry  will  be  more  service- 
able to  his  lordship  than  to  myself.  So  out  of 
my  ship,  you  canting—" 

•*  This  behaviour—" 

"  Away  with  you,  sir !  and  hark  ye,  a  word 
in  your  ear — I  have  a  small  account  still  un- 
settled with  his  lordship;  but  I  know  the 
sendee.'* 


48  JACK   A8H0BE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CoDsists  only  of  a  few  necessazy  introductions,  and  a  little 
dissertation  upon  character — the  perusal  of  which  ought 
not  to  be  omitted,  though  the  author  has  attempted  to  be 
sensible. 

Jack,  whom  we  have  not  yet  introduced  to  the 
reader,  is  not  yet  ashore,  but  still  afloat  in  the 
Old  Glory.  We  are  sorry  to  say  that  our  first 
mention  of  him  must  be  to  the  purport,  that 
on  pay-day  he  got  tremendously  drunk,  quai^ 
relied  with  bis  messmates,  fought  with  his  girl, 
got  robbed  by  his  Jew,  and,  on  the  morning  of 
the  abduction  of  the  figure-head,  was  so  really 
and  wretchedly  ill,  that  he  was  too  confused 
fully  to  understand  the  astounding  events  that 
had  to  recently  afflicted  the  captain,  and  be- 
wildered the  ship's  company. 


JACK    ASHORE.  49 

Afloat  we  must  still  leave  him,  and,  for  a  time, 
indulge  in  the  contemplation  of  scenes  by  far 
more  pleasant,  and  describe  beings  far  more 
refioed,  than  those  that  we  have  lately  portrayed. 

At  six-and-twenty,  Sir  Edward  Fortin* 
tower  seemed  to  have  obtained  that  ne  pltu 
tUtra^  that  exquisite  perfection  of  human  hap- 
pbessy  which  makes  the  thoughtful  man  tremble 
for  its  possessor.  Every  incident  that  conjec- 
ture could  fasten  upon  his  destiny,  as  it  must 
necessarily  involve  change,  seemed  also,  as  a 
natural  consequence,  to  carry  with  it  some 
taint,  some  deterioration  of  the  excessive  hap- 
piness which  was  evidently  his  lot.  In  perfect 
health,  possessed  of  a  manly  and  vigorous  form, 
and  some  beauty  of  countenance,  he  stood, 
amongst  the  generality  of  men,  as  a  creation 
nperior  to,  though  not  distinct  from,  his  race. 
Gifted  with  a  powerful  mind,  a  great  deal  of 
wit,  and  considerable  industry,  he  had  attained 
a  degree  of  mental  excellence,  though  not 
equal  to  the  mere  accidents  of  his  physical 
beauty,  yet  such  as  to  enable  him  gracefully  to 

VOL.   I.  D 


50  JACK  ASHOEB. 

play  his  part  in  whatever  society  chance  might 
happen  to  throw  him. 

But,  of  all  his  talents,  that  of  an  impassioned 
and  natural  eloquence  was  the  most  striking. 
He  was  fully  conscious  of  this  distinction,  and 
was  naturally  proud  of  it.  Scarcely  had  the  law 
allowed  him  to  Mrrite  himself  man,  than  he  had 
taken  his  place  among  the  senators  of  the  first 
empire  of  the  world ;  and  though  as  yet  with* 
out  much  personal  influence,  he  was  a  general 
object  of  admiration,  and,  in  the  anticipation 
of  all  parties,  was  destined  one  day  to  become 
the  wielder  of  the  destinies  of  the  greater  part 
of  the  civilised  world.  This  was  a  high  and 
valued  distinction.  The  rising  youg  men  of 
the  day  paid  him  universal  court ;  and  wher«* 
ever  he  appeared,  there  was  evidently  that  sen- 
sation excited,  which  is  at  once  so  flattering  and 
so  dangerous  to  the  object. 

Owing  to  some  ill-requited  services  of  his 
ancestors,  on  the  day  of  his  majority  Edward 
Fortintower  was  created  an  English  baronet.  His 
inheritance  was  large,  and,  being  derived  from  a 
usurious  and  distant  relative,  was  unencumbered* 


JACK  AS HOBS.  51 

Under  Sir  Edward's  care  so  it  still  remained. 
He  fully  participated  in  all  the  enjoyments, 
luxuries,  and  even  in  some  of  the  extravagan- 
cies of  the  day,  but  with  that  unobtrusive  dis- 
cretion that  gave  a  double  zest  to  his  pleasures, 
ind  preserved  him  from  the  humiliation  of 
dd>t,  and  the  miseries  of  remorse.  Though 
deddedly  a  man  of  fashion,  he  was  still  natu* 
rally  a  man  of  business ;  loved  active  and  b^ 
oefidal  employment  for  its  own  sake,  and  whe- 
ther in  affairs  of  moment,  or  in  trifles,  in  the 
wild  excursion  of  pleasure,  or  in  the  studious 
retirement  of  his  library,  he  was  essentially 
methodical. 

As  no  young  man  of  the  day  appeared  to 
possess  the  means  of  greater  haf^ness  than  Sir 
Edward  Fortintower,  so  also  there  was  none 
who  appeared  to  possess  more  sterling  qualities 
to  make  those  means  conducive  to  the  great 
ends  of  life,  and  of  preserving  them  when  they 
were  attained. 

And  he  was  blessed  in  that  sweetest  of  all 
bliss — ^his  love.  It  was  a  true  love,  and  yet 
the  current  of  it  had  not  only  run  smoothly, 

d2 


52  JACK    ASHORE. 

but  delightfully,  ecstatically.  In  one  month — 
but  how  tediously  long  did  the  contemplation 
of  that  month  appear ! — in  one  little  month,  and 
the  tremulous  but  delightful  sensations  of  hope 
were  to  be  absorbed,  and  for  ever,  into  the  solid 
fruition  of  certain  happiness. 

The  betrothed  of  Sir  Edward  Fortintower 
was  an  heiress  of  great  beauty.  She  had  been 
well  educated,  and  bore  all  her  talents  and  ac- 
quirements like  a  lady.  It  would  not  be  true 
to  say,  that  in  the  dance  she  was  more  graceful 
than  the  Elsler,  in  the  song  more  inspired  than 
Grisi,  that  she  painted  landscapes  better  than 
Stanfield,  or  portraits  with  more  skill  than  Sir 
Thomas  Lawrence.  Even  in  that  very  general 
accomplishment,  music,  we  must  confess  that 
very  many  professional  ladies  and  gentlemen 
were  her  superiors*  We  do  not  know  whether 
she  could  have  equalled  Miss  Landon  in  poetry, 
or  have  excelled  Mrs.  Hemans.  We  will  not 
say  that  she  could  not  have  done  so,  because 
she  never  tried.  Once,  and  only  once,  being 
overpowered  by  moonlight,  and  a  sense  of  the 
excess  of  her  own  happiness^  she  did  commence 


JACK  ASHORX.  53 

an  ode — of  course  it  was  about  love  and  her 
lover;  and  as  she  was  most  desirous  that  each 
stanza  should  cooclude  with  the  word  ^*  Ed- 
ward/' the  poverty  of  the  English  language, 
and  not  her  want  of  genius,  was  the  cause  of 
lier  failure ;  the  only  rhyme  that  offered  itself 
she  rejected  with  a  blush,  and  then  hastily — 
perhaps  too  hastily — came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  ^*  gods  had  not  made  her  poetical/' 
Happy  and  thrice  happy  would  it  have  been 
for  this  nauseated  world,  if  nineteen  twen- 
tieth part  of  its  poets  had  commenced  and 
terminated  their  labours  in  the  same  exemplary 
manner. 

Indeed,  we  do  not  know  for  what  particular 
excellence  this  lady  was  famed ;  she  was  not 
even  remarkable  for  a  romantic  name,  having 
been  christened  Ann,  and  inheriting  from  her 
father  the  certainly  not  very  aristocratic  sur- 
name of  Truepenny.  Yet,  with  these  glaring 
deficiencies  upon  every  individual  part,  taking 
her  altogether,  a  more  ladylike,  excellent  young 
woman  London  could  not  boast  of,  at  least 
during  one  season. 


54  JACK  ASHORE. 

Her  grandfather  was  still  living, — old  True- 
penny. It  seemed,  he  was  so  very  old  that,  as  no 
one  could  exactly  tell  when  he  had  begun  to  live, 
so  no  one  dared  to  fix  a  probable  period  for  his 
death. 

Ann  had  never  known  the  love  and  care 
of  either  father  or  mother.  She  had  no  re- 
collection of  them  —  they  were  to  her  as  if 
they  had  never  been.  No  one  had  ever  spoketi 
to  her  of  them,  and  she  had  always  called  her 
grandfather  **  Pa,"  in  her  childhood,  and 
^'  Father,"  in  her  more  advanced  years.  True- 
penny was  her  paternal  ancestor,  and  she  was 
the  only  surviving  child  of  his,  or  of  her  own 
mother's  family.  As  nobody  knew  how  old 
was  very  old  Truepenny,  so  did  no  one  know 
how  rich  was  very  rich  old  Truepenny.  He 
must  have  numbered  nearly  a  hundred  years ; 
and  though  he  bore  their  impress  plainly  upon 
his  wrinkled  countenance,  he  yet  looked  hale 
and  hearty.  His  sight  was  extremely  good, 
though  his  hearing  was  very  much  impaired ; 
but  his  voice  was  still  strong,  though  his  step 
was  feeble. 


JACK    ASHOBE.  55 

He  had  long  ceased  to  care  for  the  fashion  of 
his  habiliments.  He  clothed  himself  with  what 
best  suited  his  age  and  his  infirmities.  He 
addom  sufiSnred  himself  to  be  shaved,  and  jet 
that  operation  was  performed  upon  him  too 
firequently  to  permit  his  beard,  white  as  the 
unsunned  snow,  from  being  characterised  as  a 
descending  one.  The  head  was  bald,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  long  and  blanched  locks  that 
flowed  down  his  shoulders.  In  his  usual  ap- 
parel, he  seemed,  in  his  robes  and  his  shawls, 
more  like  an  inhabitant  of  Constantinople  than 
of  London.  In  his  diet,  he  was  not  only  tem- 
perate, but  abstemious.  Without  appearing  to 
fear  death,  he  took  every  precaution  for  pro- 
longing a  life  that  seemed  to  afford  him  so  little 
gratification. 

At  the  time  of  the  commencement  of  our 
narratiye,  Mr.  Truepenny  occupied  the  house 
that  looks  upon  the  Green-park,  now  the  resi- 
dence of  Ijord  •  It  was  then  a  magnifi- 
cent temple,  dedicated  to  silence  and  splendid 
decorum.  The  establishment  of  servants  vras 
fuU,   and  yet  there  were  few   to  serve.    Mr. 


56  JACK   ASHORE. 

Truepenny  received  no  company,  and  sought 
none;  yet  all  the  parade  of  the  olden  time  was 
preserved  of  first  and  second  table.  The  ser- 
vants fattened  in  the  halls ;  the  horses  fattened 
in  the  stables ;  and  the  coachman,  seldom  con- 
scious of  whip  or  coach-box,  fattened  with 
them.  The  only  thing  that  Mr.  Truepenny 
seemed  to  require  of  his  vast  establishment  was, 
that  they  should  keep  silence,  and  out  of  his 
sight 

Being,  for  so  rich  a  man,  very  considerate, 
he  did  not  desire  his  granddaughter  to  live  with 
him ;  but  he  placed  her  with  a  distant  female 
relation  living  in  Harley-street,  whose  income 
not  being  equal  to  her  own  estimate  of  her  de- 
serts, or  to  command  the  luxuries  and  distinc- 
tion  to  which  she  deemed  herself  rightfully 
entitled,  the  accession  of  the  heiress,  with  a 
most  ample  annuity,  was  exceedingly  acceptable 
to  her  establishment. 

The  mass  of  society  is  made  up  of  common 
characters;  yet,  when  nearly  examined,  the 
most  common  of  these  common  characters  has 
his  or  her  peculiarities.     Thus,  the  variety  of 


JACK    ASHORE. 


67 


characters  in  detail  is  infinite,  whilst  its  same- 
Des8  in  the  aggregate  is  the  true  tedium  mUB 
of  existence.  This  is  a  paradox,  but  full 
of  truth.  It  was  especially  true  of  Ann 
Traepennj.  Regarding  her  as  one  among  the 
mass^  there  seemed,  in  no  one  point  of  view, 
anything  to  distinguish  her  by  its  peculiar  ex- 
cellence. Though  very  beautiful,  there  were 
others  more  beautiful ;  though  witty,  wittier ; 
though  accomplished,  more  accomplished.  If 
you  asked  her  herself  in  what  she  was  distin* 
goished  from  other  young  ladies  of  her  own  age 
and  station  in  society,  she  would  laughingly 
tell  you,  that  she  could  not  make  verses,  which 
everybody  else  could ;  and  if  the  same  ques- 
tion was  asked  of  Sir  Edward,  he  would  look 
unutterable  things,  and  with  perhaps  a  tear  in 
each  eye,  and  a  stare  of  astonishment,  ask  you 
if  you  did  not  perceive  **  that  she  was  superior 
to  her  whole  sex.*^  But  if,  not  being  satisfied 
with  the  generality  of  this  answer,  you  required 
him  to  state  in  what  particular,  he  would  be 
puzzled,  and  say,  after  some  pause,  that  she 
had  no  faults,  and,  above  all,  that  she  had  not 

d5 


58  JACK    ASHORE. 

the  greatest  of  all  faults,  that  of  being  pre- 
eminent in  anything.  Yet  he  was  deceived, 
and  she  also.  Her  characteristic  was  devotion 
— ^an  abandonment  of  self,  and  all  that  con- 
cerned self,  for  one  cherished  object-  She  was 
created  a  secondary  being — but  a  being  how 
glorious !  She  was  bom  a  worshipper ;  she 
was  by  nature  a  servant  and  a  slave — ^but  a  very 
exalted  one ;  and  aboundingly  worthy  must  that 
object  be,  that  she  could  thus  faithfully  serve, 
for  whom  she  pould  thus  willingly  slave, 
and  whom  she  could  enthusiastically  worship. 
As  yet,  she  was  unaware  of  this  idiosyn- 
crasy. Her  heart  had,  however,  already  found 
its  object. 

We  may  seem  tedious  in  thus  introducing 
our  characters  before  we  call  upon  them  to 
speak  and  to  act.  Yet,  with  all  submission, 
we  consider  it  to  be  the  best  plan.  We  hope 
that  it  has  created  an  interest  for  them  in  the 
mind  of  our  reader,  so  that  that  very  important 
personage  will  watch  their  sayings  and  doings, 
and  be  really  anxious  to  know  in  what  manner 
they   will  conduct  themselves  in  the  peculiar 


JACK   ASHORE.  59 

and  difficult  situations  in  which  they  most  likely 
will  be  found. 

With  this  apology  for  the  course  that  we  are 
pursuing,  yet  one  more  description,  and  then 
the  **  puppets  shall  speak  for  themselves.^'  The 
mistress  of  No.  —  Harley-street,  a  distant 
coasin  of  Miss  Truepenny's^  was  named  Miss 
Matilda  Morison.  She  was  a  superbly  handsome 
lady.  However  great  the  number  in  the  party 
might  be,  she  was  ever  the  most  striking.  She 
wasy  though  on  the  verge  of  fifty,  a  grand  and 
a  redundant  beauty.  When  well  rouged  and 
properly  made  up^  she  was  almost  enchanting ; 
when  viewed  at  the  proper  distance,  majestic ; 
un wrinkled,  with  a  clear  and  unstained  com* 
pLexion,  excepting  where  the  carmine  more  than 
emulated  in  delicacy,  and  equalled  in  intensity, 
the  glow  of  health.  Finally,  she  had  a  firm 
step,  and  a  most  graceful  deportment. 

How  was  it  that,  with  all  these  fascinations 
about  her,  you  discovered  at  once  that  Miss 
Matilda  Morison  had  passed  her  meridian? 
There  was  no  tale  of  years  in  the  brilliancy  of 


60  JACK   ASHORE. 

her  laughing  blue  eyes ;  no  indication  of  age  in 
the  round  whiteness  of  her  arm;  the  elastic 
firmness  of  her  bust  shamed  the  lax  figure  of 
many  young  maidens  still  wanting  years  from 
their  womanhood.  But  age  will  speak  out — 
the  not  to  be  silenced — the  intolerable  monitor  ! 
As  you  gazed  upon  Miss  Morison,  you  ex- 
claimed, or  at  least  thought,  ^*  What  a  splendid 
creature  ! — but  she  must  be  nearly  fifty :  she  is 
decidedly  ptusee  ;*' — and  then  you  would  be 
exceedingly  puzzled  to  say  in  what. 

You  perhaps  add,  *^  If  thus  gorgeous  and 
bewitching  at  her  time  of  life,  how  super- 
humanly  beautiful  she  must  have  been  when 
young !"  But  you  would  be  wrong.  She  never 
was  more  perfect  in  her  charms — the  wane 
of  other  women  was  to  her  the  reign  of  her 
beauty.  As  she  matured,  she  perfected.  She 
had  always  been  remarkable  for  her  attrac- 
tions, but  never  more  so  when  you  might 
expect  that,  at  least  in  person,  she  would  cease 
to  attract. 

When  we  add,  that  she  was  complete  mistress 


JACK   ASHOBE.  61 

of  all  the  arts  of  dress  and  the  varieties  of 
adorament,  we  have  completed  her  character,  so 
far  as  it  appeared  to  the  public 

Such  a  woman  must  naturally  be  fond  of  ad* 

miration ;  but  she  courted  power  still  more  than 

praise  or  adulation.    She  was  a  tyrant,  though  a 

graceful  one.     She  was  most  pleased  to  rule, 

not  by  the  mere  brute  weight  of  authority,  but 

by  finesse  and  exquisitely  refined  stratagem.  Her 

principles  were  children  bom  of  the  hour  and  of 

the  occasion,  and  their  parent  destroyed  them 

without  hesitation,   and    without  remorse,  the 

▼ery   moment   that    their    existence  proved  a 

trouble.     In  her  youth  she  had  outlived  many 

a  love-passion ;  she  had  now,  in  her  age«  no 

sentiment  remaining  strong  enough  to  be  called 

a    passion — save    one — an    imperishable,    an 

implacable  hate  for  Sir  Edward  Fortintower. 

The  Easter  recess  had  given  Sir  Edward 
a  respite  from  those  duties  called  parliamentary ; 
though  no  duties,  in  the  whole  duty  of  man, 
are  ever  treated  more  cavalierly,  or  are  shuffled 
ofi*  and  on  with  more  insouciance.  Sir  Ed- 
ward   had   not  yet  come   to  look   upon   this 


62  JACK    ASHORE. 

as  does  the  old  tacticiaD ;  and  thus  he  really 
enjoyed  the  relaxation  that  the  holidays  af- 
forded him. 

At  three  in  the  afternoon,  a  well-appointed 
cab  was  at  Miss  Morison^s  door.  It  was  a 
bland  and  sunshiny  day  in  the  latter  part  of 
April.  The  scrupulously  dressed  boy-groom 
had  slowly  driven  the  vehicle  a  few  times  up 
and  down  the  quiet  street,  and  had  already 
begun  to  feel  the  lulling  influence  of  the 
scene,  as  he  again  brought  up  before  the  door 
of  the  house  that  contained  his  master,  and 
commenced,  with  half-closed  eyes,  a  philoso- 
phical contemplation  of  the  horse's  ears.  Why 
these  apes  are  called  tigers,  the  monkeys  from 
whom  they  derived  the  title  only  can  tell — and* 
if  told,  would  perhaps  be  found  to  be  not  worth 
the  telling. 

As  this  lad  was  between  reverie  and  sleep, 
now  trying  to  calculate  his  wages  for  nine 
months,  now  to  remove,  with  the  end  of  the 
lash  of  his  whip,  a  troublesome  fly  from  the 
horse's  right  ear,  the  door  of  the  house  opposite 
to  which  the  cabriolet  stood,  opened,  and  Sir 


JACK    ASHORE.  63 

Edward  hastily  sprang  into  the  ▼ehicle,  and 
dfOTe  off  with  much  more  speed  than  was  usual 
with  him.  His  destination  was  a  large^  heavy* 
looking  house,  a  corner  one,  that  abutted  upon 
one  of  the  squares  situated  in  the  north-eastern 
department  of  the  metropolis. 

In  the  front  drawing*room  of  this  house  sate 
a  young  lady  at  the  pianoforte,  trying  over  and 
over  again  a  very  difficult  passage  of  a  new  over- 
ture.   Watching  her  with  anxiety  and  impa- 
tience^ which  were  fast  becoming  vexation,  a 
iharp-looldng,  genteel,  but  not  gentlemanly  man, 
sbout  fifty,   stood   over  her.     The  keys  were 
again  rattled,  the  hands  crossed  and  re^rossed 
rapidly,  but  nothing  was  produced  but  loud 
dissonance.      The    young  lady   flung    herself 
back,  let  her  hands  fall  vapidly  in  her  lap,  and 
looking  up  pleadingly  and  listlessly,  exclaimed, 
*'  I  cannot  do  it,  father .** 

"Try  again,  Elfrida — try  again,  my  loveu 
you  certainly  are  not  perfect,  but  you  improve 
—you  do,  indeed.** 
These  were  kind  words,  but  they  were  spoken 


64  JACK   ASHOBE. 

with  an  enforced  kindness;  they  carried  in 
their  tone  more  of  reproach  than  of  encourage- 
ment. The  poor  girl  felt  it,  and  again  resumed, 
to  her,  the  unconquerable  task.  This  last 
crash  was  more  tuneless  than  any  of  its  prede- 
cessors. An  oath,  a  loud  and  a  harsh  one, 
burst  forth  from  the  lips  of  the  angry  pa- 
rent, which  was  followed  by  the  exclamation, 
"  The  girl's  a  fool — incontrovertibly — abso* 
lutely." 

The  daughter's  tears  gushed  forth  plen* 
teously.  *^  Am  I  a  fool,  father,  truly  and  in- 
deed ?  I  am  sorry  that  it  is  so,  yet,  believe 
me,  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  acknowledge  it. 
You  will  now  treat  me  more  kindly,  as  an  un- 
offending simpleton  who  loves  you,  than  you 
would  did  you  think  me  a  refractory  daughter 
who  wilfully  disobeyed  you.  I  have  often  felt 
my  inferiority — not  so  much  in  these  things, 
these  tiresome  accomplishments,  as  in  the  play 
of  conversation.  Yes,  I  long  suspected  I  was  a 
fool.  It  is  a  harsh  word ;  do  not  use  it  often, 
my  dear,  dear  father,  and  in  time  I  shall  come 
to  be  used  to  it.** 


JACK   ASHORE.  65 

^'  What  will  the  girl  say  next?^  said  the 
father,  much  surprised. 

**  I  will  say  that  as  there  are  but  us  two  left 
in  this  world  to  love  each  other,  you  will  hide 
my  failing,  and  we  will  be  so  happy.  Even 
fools  can  love  wisely  when  they  love  their  own 
father  so  well — ^and  you,  papa,  have  wit  and 
sense  enough  for  both  of  us.  I  am  always  obe* 
dient — you  know  I  am.  Come,  I  will  be  your 
fond  little  fool ;  so  do  let  me  put  by  this  very, 
very  odious  music." 

**  Elfrida,  do  not  tease  me.  You  are  a  very 
good  and  a  very  sensible  child — ^in  your  way. 
When  I  called  you  fool,  I  meant  only  that  you 
were  slow  in  learning  what  others  profess  to  ac- 
quire quickly — that  is  all,  Elfrida — nothing 
more,  I  assure  you — though  it  disappoints  me 
much." 

*'  Well,  father,  to  please  you,  I'll  try  again. 
But  do  you  really  like  this  difficult  music? 
When,  an  hour  ago,  my  master  played  it  over 
so  brilliantly  and  so  exquisitely,  you  did  no- 
thing but  yawn — O  father,  how  you  did 
yawn !     I  should  have  laughed  outright,  had 


66  JACK   ASHORE. 

it    not  been  for  fear.      You    don't    like    it, 
really  ?'' 

**  I  detest  it — that  is,  it  would  delight  me 
beyond  measure  to  hear  you  play  it  brilliantly 
and  exquisitely ;  but  from  all  others  it  would 
seem  detestable  to  me."*^ 

*^  Thank  you,  thank  you,  dearest  father !" 

*^  Ah !  Elfrida,  you  do  not  understand  me. 
Bless  me !  what  an  outrageous  uproar !  that  is 
either  the  roar  of  a  tiger  at  my  door,  or  the 
bluster  of  some  pretender  to  fashion.  How 
can  you  go  to  the  window  ? — it  is  so  vulgar !" 

*^  La  I  papa,  it's  the  handsome  Sir  Edward 
Fortintower,  in  his  handsome  cab;  and  there's 
his  pretty  tiger  going  to  knock  at  the  door 
again.  There  he  goes ;  bless  his  little  hands  I 
though,  for  the  matter  of  that,  I  can't  see  them 
for  his  nice  white  gloves !" 

*^  Simpleton  !  come  away  from  the  window. 
Fie  for  shame,  Elfrida — if  Sir  Edward  were  to 
look  up !" 

"  Well,  he  couldn't  see  me.  There  he  goes, 
and  here  goes  I." 

*'  Goes  I !  and  the  money  that  I  have  spent 


JACK   A8UORK.  67 

upoD  her !  goes  I !  Miss  *  goes  1/  go  you  to 
yoar  room,  and  do  not  come  until  I  send  for 
you." 

As  the  young  lady  departed  at  one  door.  Sir 
Edward  entered  at  the  other. 


68  JACK    ASHORK. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Sir  Edvrardfin  search  of  bad  news,  finds  a  wife  may  be  bad  for 
tbe  asking — Bandies  compliments  with  a  lawyer — Gets  the 
worst  of  it,  and  a  little  fright  into  the  bargain— If  the  spoon 
must  be  long  for  the  man  who  eats  soup  with  the  dark  one, 
how  should  he  be  furnished  when  he  goes  to  dine  with  an 
attorney  I^A  few  secrets  in  paragraph-writiDg. 

Ah,  Sir  Edward  !  I  am  glad,  most  glad,  to  see 
you,**  said  Mr.  Scrivener,  with  that  eagerness 
of  joy  with  v»hich  the  wolf  would  welcome  the 
lamb  that  might  innocently  have  strayed  into 
his  den.  There  was  a  ferocity  of  pleasure 
about  the  host,  that  would  have  made  hospita- 
lity almost  hideous.  He  perceived,  by  tbe 
coldness  of  Sir  Edward's  demeanour,  that  he 
had  betrayed  too  much,  and  then  changed  his 
manner  into  an  appearance  hearty  enough,  but 


JACK   A8HORR.  69 

more  careless.  Never  did  two  persons,  with 
subjects  the  most  momentous  to  each  labouring 
in  their  breasts,  seem  so  determined  to  converse 
more  discursively  and  vapidly.  They  dreaded 
to  approach  the  abyss  into  which  each  was 
desirous  to  plunge,  and  see  its  difficulties  and 
its  dangers.  But  if  Mr.  Scrivener  was  the 
more  wily.  Sir  Edward  was  the  more  coura- 
geous ;  and  the  latter,  at  length  springing  up 
from  his  chair,  and  folding  his  arms,  not  arro> 
gantly,  but  with  an  air  almost  melancholy, 
nid,  gazing  intently  upon  Mr.  Scrivener's 
niooth  but  ambiguous  countenance, — 

'*  Have  you  heard  anything  concerning  this 
most  annoying  rumour  respecting  the  long-lost 
next  of  kin  to  old  Mortimer  Fortintower  of 
Fortintower-hall  ?* 

'*  Most  annoying — it  is  most  annoying,^  was 
the  inapplicable  answer. 

**  Bnt  have  you  heard  anything  of  it — of  the 
particulars — of  its  chances  of  being  founded  in 
truth  ?  I  am  naturally  anxious  and  impatient 
on  this  subject.^ 

^  Anxious    and   impatient  f — no  more.   Sir 


70  JACK    A8HOBE, 

Edward?     Are  you  not  fearful — tortured — 
wretched  ?" 

**  Theaei  sir,  are  searching  and  impertinent 
questions.  But  I  will  answer  you  frankly;  for 
myself,  I  am  not^for  others,  much.  You  know, 
Mr.  Scrivener,  that  I  have  formed  friendships 
— made  connexions ;  and  there  is  among  them 
one,  the  dearest  tie,  the  noblest  feeling  that  can 
mingle  with,  and  give  a  colour  to  a  man's  best 
and  purest  thoughts.  It  is  for  all  this,  that,  if 
I  feel  as  much  as  a  man  ought,  I  should  not  be 
accused  of  either  weakness  or  selfishness.  Mis 
Truepenny — '" 

**  Hi,  hi,  ha !  A  thousand  pardons.  Sir 
Edward,  but  the  name — the  singular  name- 
always  makes  me  smile.  I  have  the  profoundest 
respect  and  admiration  for  the  lady.  Sir  Ed- 
ward— believe  me  that  I  have.  Do,  my  good 
sir,  relax  the  severity  of  your  look.  You  know 
what  Chaucer  says  in  his  Wife  of  Bath — 
^  What's  in  a  name  ?  A  rose  by  any  other 
name  would  cost  as  much.'  You  smile  again. 
You  see,  though  I  have  been  all  my  life  a 
lawyer,  I  can  aptly  quote  an  apt  quotation. 


JACK  A8HOKK.  71 

Bat  to  return  to  this  anplesMuit  subject.  Be- 
lieve me^  Sir  Edward,  Miss  Truepenny  will  be 
Miss  Truepenny  until  the  end  of  her  days,  if 
thoe  be  any  foundation  in  this  rumour.  Her 
giand&ther — well  do  I  know  the  rigid  old  man 
^if  he  finds  you  but  even  five  hundred  pounds 
a  year  leas  than  he  has  supposed  you  to  be 
worth,  will  at  once  put  an  end  to  this  ill-as* 
wrted  match  !" 

**  Ill-assorted,  Mr.  Scrivener !  You  are 
OMwe  than  legally  ofiensive  this  morning." 

^  Always  presuming.  Sir  Edward,  that  there 
is  foundation  for  this  rumour.** 

**  You  seem  determined  to  turn  from  inso» 
knoe  to  presumption.  Pray  what  do  you  know 
about  this  matter  ?** 

**  No  more  than  all  the  world  may  choose 
to  know,  who  may  choose  to  read  the  public 
papers;  but  I,  from  my  knowledge  of  your 
family  concerns,  am  perhaps  alone  enabled  to 
read  them  rightly.  Sir  Edward  Fortintower, 
I  think  highly  of  you ;  all  who  know  you,  the 
worid  at  large,  think  so  too ;  and  I  am,  at  the 
same  time,  sorry  and  proud  to  say  that  there 


72  JACK  ASHORE. 

is  one  in  this  house^  who^  to  the  ruin  of  h 
peace  of  mind,  highly  as  the  world,  highly 
your  friends,  highly  as  I  think  of  you,  far  sur^ 
passes  in  her  admiration  and  love  of  you  the 
accumulated  affection  of  all  these.  I  do  not 
blush  for  her,  or  for  myself,  when  I  confess 
this,  for  you  are  worthy  of  it.  Exert,  then, 
that  courage  and  that  manliness  for  which  the 
world  gives  you  so  much  credit,  and  bear  it 
with  fortitude,  when  I  tell  you  that  there  is  a 
great,  a  very  great,  probability  that  there  is 
truth  in  these  rumours." 

*^  When  any  one  sees  me  bear  basely  what- 
ever reverse  God  may  have  in  reserve  for  me, 
let  him  taunt  me  with  it  with  impunity.  I  will 
do  justice.  If  I  hold  not  my  estates  rightfully, 
I  will  not  hold  them  a  moment.  If  you  know 
to  whom  they  fairly  belong,  assist  me  in  re- 
storing them  at  once.'' 

*'  Well,  well,  that  is  very  nobly  said ;  but 
you  must  not  be  in  such  a  hurry.  It  may  be 
right  for  the  rightful  owner  to  have  his  rightful 
estates,  as  you  say.  Rightful  is  a  good  word, 
though  scarcely,  in  this  sense,  legal.    I  like  the 


JACK   ASHOKE.  73 

word  rightful,  and  therefore — mark  me^  Sir 
Edward — therefore  it  would  not  be  rightful 
in  me  to  assbt  in  making  my  fnend  a  titled 
beggar!" 

^  Mr.  Scrivener,  you  have  now  added  insult 
to  presumption  and  insolence.** 

'*  I  beg  your  pardon — I  humUy  b^  your 
pirdoD,  Sir  Edward ;  I  should  have  said 
pauper — I  correct  myself— titled  pauper.  Be* 
lieve  roe,  great,  very  great,  would  be,  must  be, 
the  ioducements  to  make  me  assist  in  reducing 
mj  friend,  and  one  whom  Miss  Scrivener  so  ab- 
solutely admires,  to  a  titled  pauper." 

**  But  there  are  indifceroenta,^  said  Sir  Ed- 
ward ;  and  he  smiled  scornfully. 

^  Professionally,  Sir  Edward,  professionaUy ; 
then  what  could  I  do?  You  were  pleased, 
some  two  years  ago,  to  withdraw  your  affairs 
from  our  office ;  consequently,  however  great 
nune  and  my  daughter's  friendship  may  be  for 
you,  there  is  no  legal  tie  between  us.  I  am  open 
to  give  advice  to  any  one  who  may  give  himself 
to  me  as  my  clienti     I  only  say  this.  Sir  Ed- 

VOL.  u  X 


74  JACK   A8HOE£. 

ward — ^beware!  for  by  the  wording  of  those 
newspaper  paragraphs  I  am  oertaiii  there  is 
mischief  in  them.^ 

^^  I  will  do  no  wrong,  nor  suffer  any.  I 
have  a  dark  suspictoi),  Mr.  Scrivener.  I  enjoy 
my  estates  both  lineally  and  by  the  will  of  my 
late  relative*  It  seems  to  me  all  but  an  impossi* 
bility  that  any  claimant  should  arise,  to  my 
iojuryi  with  a  diadow  of  right  on  his  side ;  and, 
mark  me,  Mr.  Scrivener,  against  right  I  will 
not  contest.^ 

'^  Superbly  spoken,  sir,  very  superbly  \**  and 
then,  with  his  gentlest  and  most  insinuating 
smile^  he  continued,  '^  but,  my  dear  Sir  Ed- 
ward, if  you  would  but  consider  me  as  your 
friend— your  fast  and  loving  friend — I  think, 
meanly  as  you  may  estimate  my  taknts,  that  1 
could  ensure  your  safety.  Oh  !  what  a  blessed 
consummation  of  happiness  would  it  be  for  all 
of  us,  could  I  but  see  you  enter  as  a  member 
of  my  family  !  I  acknowledge^  with  all  humi- 
lity, that  we  are  scarcely  worthy  of  the 
bonoun"^ 


JACK    A8H0EB.  75 

^  Three  times,  Mr.  Scrivener,  have  you  pro- 
miied  me  never  to  recur  to  .this  subject;  and 
now  a  fourth — ^ 

*^  Only  incidentally,  my  good  Sir  Edward^ 
only  incidentally.  I  think — nay,  were  you 
Tcally  one  of  us,  I  am  certain — that  I  could  de- 
feat the  machinations  of  your  secret  enemy, 
whoew^  he  may  be;  and  may  not  a  father 
pkid  for  a  beloved  daughter,  whose  rapidly 
dedimng  health — ^' 

**  When  I  was  sitting  in  my  cabricJet,  I  de- 
scried a  ruddy,  very  plump,  and  good-hu- 
moured face  peeping  at  me  through  the  curtains 
of  that  very  window ;  and  had  not  that  face 
been  the  very  picture  of  robust  health,  I  cer- 
tainly should  have  pronounced  it  to  be  Miss 
Scrivener's." 

**  That  it  was  Miss  Scrivener's  I  am  not  pre- 
pared to  deny ;  but  that  she  is  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  robust  health  I  cannot  allow.  If  she 
expected  your  coming,  could  you  impute  it  to 
her  as  a  crime  duit  she  watched  for  you  ?  But 
pardoD  me — I  trust  that  both  of  us  have  too 
much  proper  pride  to  sue  for  the  hand  of  any 

£  2 


76  JACK    ASHORE. 

one.  I  am  but  now  stating  things  to  you  in  a 
worldly  light.  On  the  one  hand  are  placed  be- 
fore you  an  alliance  with  my  family — an  only 
and  richly  portioned  daughter — all  my  property 
at  my  death,  and  our  gratitude  and  my  assidu- 
ous services  whilst  I  live ;  on  the  other,  pro- 
bable loss  to  you  of  the  very  means  of  sub- 
sistence— a  certain  vexatious  and  protracted 
lawsuit,  the  termination  of  which  you  can  never 
see,  and  the  result  of  which  you  cannot  antici- 
pate. Can  you.  Sir  Edward,  offer  to  Miaa 
Truepenny  an  uncertain  property  ?  or  will  her 
grandfather,  from  whom  she  derives  all  her 
hopes,  accept  such  an  offer?  I  have  spoken 
plainly.  Give  this  subject  your  best  and  most 
serious  consideration.^' 

**  I  am  like  you,  Mr.  Scrivener,  of  this  world, 
and  deny  not  that  I  am,  in  many  senses,  as 
worldly  as  yourself.  I  make  not — I  never  made 
— any  professions  of  quixotic  virtue.  I  am  too 
much  a  disciple  of  expediency  to  be  ever  a  good 
Christian.  To  the  man  who  robs  me  of  my  vest, 
I  will  certainly  not  make  an  offer  of  my  coat, 
nor  shall  the  smiter  of  my  right  cheek  repeat 


JACK    ASHORE.  77 

the  iDsidt  OD  my  left.  Mr.  Scrivener,  I  am  a 
worldly  man.'* 

^  Give  me  your  hand,  my  dear  Sir  Edward, 
— give  me  your  hand  !'* 

"  Not  yet,  Mr.  Scrivener — ^not  yet.  As  a 
worldly  man,  I  have  sought  the  world's  dis- 
tinctioDs.^ 

^  And  won  them,  my  good  sir ;  and  nobly 

won  them."* 

**  And  won  them.  Nay,  more,  I  am  proud 
of  them ;  I  have  become  attached  to  them — my 
bouses,  my  parks,  my  statues,  my  pictures,  my 
plate,  my  equipages,  all  the  decencies,  the 
elegancies^  the  quiet  pomps  of  my  station, 
seem  to  me  to  have  become  integral  portions  of 
myself;  the  idea  of  parting  with  them  is  like 
the  thought  of  severing  my  members  from  my 
body.  And  those  my  numerous  servants  whom 
I  have  made  my  friends,  and  my  friends  still 
more  numerous,  whom,  in  all  things  graceful  to 
their  stations,  I  have  made  my  servants, — all 
these  are  very  dear  to  me.  Tell  me,  can  I 
honestly  preserve  all  these,  and  honourably  too  as 


78  JACK   A8HOBE. 

well  as  honestly  ?  and  frankly  will  I  give  you 
my  answer." 

*'  Frankly  then,  yes — if  you  enter  my  family 
—  if  you  marry  my  Elfrida  Eugenia." 

«  And  if  I  do  not  ?" 

^  Why  then.  Sir  Edward,  the  longer  enjoy- 
ment of  that  which  you  appear  so  much  to 
enjoy,  is  extremely  problematicaL  You  may 
have  to  look  upon  all  the  past  as  a  pleasant,  but 
a  vain,  nay,  when  compared  with  your  future 
misery,  as  a  tantalising  dream.^ 

**  You  put  this  strongly.  Now  tell  me,  sir, 
I  command  you,  do  you  not  know  more  of  this 
business  than  you  have  yet  avowed  ?  Are  you 
not  yourself,  for  your  individual  purpose^ 
working  against  me  ?^ 

"  Really^  Sir  Edward,  I  am  not :  how  could 
you  suppose  me  to  be  so  base  ?  I  know  nothing 
more  than  the  papers  have  insinuated ;  all  that 
I  do  conjecture  more  is,  that  they  seem  to  be  on 
a  fearfully  dangerous  track/' 

"  Then  am  I  safe,  and  there  is  nothing  in 
them.    They  are  nothing  but  the  most  vague 


JArX   ASflOAB.  79 

and  ridiculous  romances,  almost  as  applicable 
to  any  other  baronet  as  to  myself." 

^  It  is  my  painful  duty  to  abate  your  con- 
fidenoe.  Sir  Kdward«  Have  you  seen  the  Mern^ 
mg  PM  oi  to-day  ?" 

*•  No,  I  have  not" 

**  Well,  the  paragraph  was  so  singular,  and  so 
strictly  applicable  to  yoorsdf,  diat  my  dear 
Elfrida  took  a  copy  of  it.  The  papers  I  always 
send  to  my  oiBce  in  the  city^  so  soon  as  I  have 
breakfasted*  You  must  not  be  astonished  that 
Miss  Scrivener  should  have  copied  out  what  so 
iKarly  oonoerns  you ;  for,  to  the  destruction  of 
her  peace  of  miod^  what  concerns  you  is  of  too 
much  moment  to  her.  I  have  mislaid  mv 
glasses ;  bat  this,  I  believe,  is  the  paper.*" 

Saying  this,  Mr.  Scrivener  took  up  one  of  two 
or  three  pieces  of  manuscript,  and  handed  it 
cardessly  to  Sir  Edwatxi,  who  began  to  read 
akiud  as  follows — 

"An  original  impromptu,  addressed  to  Sir 
Edwaid  Fortintower,  Bart.,  by  Elfrida  Eugenia. 

**  Airmke  mj  soul,  and  with  the  stin 
Tbj  daily  conne  of  duty  mo. 


80  JACK    ASHORE. 

Shake  off  dall  alotfa,  and  early  rise. 
That  I  may  see  Sir  Edward's  eyes." 

^*  You  have  got  the  wrong  paper,  Sir  Edward," 
said  Mr.  Scrivener,  rubbing  his  hands  with 
unaffected  delight ;  ^*  but  I  am  not  sorry  for 
it.  .  You  see  her  talent  at  original  composition, 
and  the  state  of  her  heart  too.  Is  there  any 
more  of  it  P  pray  read  it.** 

'^  There  is  no  more ;  I  think  there  is  quite 
enough  as  it  is.     Original  I  it  is  a  parody — ** 

**  Ah  I  to  be  sure,  a  parody ;  that  is  the 
hardest  kind  of  original  poetry — ^yes,  yes,  I  had 
forgotten  that  it  was  a  parody ;  and  don't  you 
think  it's  a  very  beautiful  one?  and  all  her  own 
invention  !** 

<*  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Scrivener,  you  are  not 
very  early  at  church.  But  something  too  much 
of  this  trifling.'' 

"  Trifling !"  murmured  Mr.  Scrivener,  •*  ori- 
ginal poetry  like  that !  Well,  well,  it  shall  go 
into  one  of  the  magazines;  the  girl  is  not  so 
simple  after  all.  Ah '  this  is,  I  believe, 
the  paragraph.  Is  not  the  handwriting  excel- 
lent ?" 


JACK    ASHOftE.  81 

Without  paying  much  attention  to  the  auto- 
graph, Sir  Edward  read  as  follows : — 

*'We  understand  from  the  best  authority, 
that  the  hints  that  have  lately  been  so  general, 
about  ao  indisputable  claim  to  all  the  estates, 
real  and  personal,  of  a  certain  "elegant  and  newly 
created  baronet,  who  gained  for  himself  so  much 
cdebrity  as  a  parliamentary  debater,  have  now 
assumed  a  more  tangible  form.    It  would  seem, 
that  Sir  ♦  *  *  *  inherits,  as  heir-at-law  and  by 
will,  as  the  eldest  male  nephew  of  the  late  rich 
and  penurious  Mr.  ♦♦*♦♦;  but  Sir  •  •  *  *  's 
father  had  an  elder  brother ;  and  it  is  the  descen- 
dant of  that  brother  who  is  now,  for  the  first  time, 
made  aware  of  his  rights.  To  add  to  the  romance 
of  the  story,  this  new  claimant,  mirabUe  dictu ! 
is  DOW  actually  serving  on  board  of  one  of  his 
majesty's  ships  of  war  as  a  foremast  man.     We 
prophesy,  that  this  will  produce  a  fine  harvest 
for  the  gentlemen  of  the  long-robe,  and  they 
will  not  let  the  cause  slip  through  their  bands 
iinder  a  ten  years'  ordeal,  if  they  act  with  their 
usual  astuteness.     One  thing,  however,  is  cer- 
tain, that  the  law  cannot  take  away  from  its 

K  5 


82  JACK  ASHORE. 

present  possessor  either  his  title  or  his  seat  in 
the  lower  house;  and  with  these,  his  very 
elegant  person,  his  habits  and  accomplishments, 
he  may  be  able,  by  a  matrimonial  alliance,  to 
indemnify  himself  in  some  measure  for  the 
caprices  of  fortune  and  the  injuries  of  the  law's 
delay.  It  is,  however,  certain  that  the  unlucky 
baronet's  alliance  with  the  great  heiress  of  the 
city  is  postponed  sine  die^  and  that  whether  the 
gentleman's  purse  be  well  or  ill  lined,  he  will 
never  be  able  to  boast  of  possessing  a  true 
penny.^* 

Sir  Edward  read  twice  over  this  mortifying 
announcement,  and  from  its  mirabile  dictu,  and 
miserable  pun  in  the  name  of  his  lady  love^  he 
doubted  not  for  a  moment  but  that  it  was  the 
production  of  a  genuine  penny-a-liner,  though 
the  materials  must  have  been  furnished  him  by 
some  one  who  was  well  versed  in  the  matter. 

'*  Now,  what  think  you  of  that,  Sir  Edward?" 
said  the  lawyer,  half  triumphantly. 

^*  That  there  is  either  a  conspiracy  formed 
against  me^  or  that  I  am,  as  you  considerately 
phrased  it,  a  titled  pauper." 


JACK    A8H0£E. 


83 


"  But  you  know  the  alternative.  You  will 
be  guilty  of  a  moral  felo  de  <e,  if  you  hesitate. 
Come,  come,  my  good  Sir  Edward,  we  have  had 
quite  enough  of  business  this  morning.  Will 
you  lunch  with  us?  Miss  Scrivener  will  be 
with  us  immediately.  That  girl,  Sir  Edward,  is 
a  treasure  to  me.  Do  you  see  anything  amiss  in 
the  arrangements  of  this  room  ?  She  manages 
my  household  for  me,  and,  till  lately— till  she 

took  to  writing  original  poetry But  why  in 

such  a  hurry?    what  do  you  say  to  this  pro* 
position  of  mine  ?" 

"  Can  you  defeat  this  attempt  on  my  pro- 
perty ?" 

Most  assuredly.^ 
Will  you  r 

**  On  those  most  advantageous  terms." 

'*  Is  this  threatened  claim  founded  in  justice?'" 

*'  As  the  law  will  decide." 

*'  And  you  can  command  that  decision  ?" 

**  I  can-** 

"  And  will?* 

*<  And  will,  as  you  behave  to  me  and  mine. 
You  know  my  terms.** 


84  JACK    ASHORE. 

^^  And  what  are  you  then,  who  thus  can,  and 
who  say  you  will,  pervert  the  law  to  your  own 
views  and  fancied  interests?" 

**  Your  best  of  friends,  who  hopes  soon  to 
prove  himself  the  best  of  fathers-in-law.  Do 
you  accept  my  terms?' 

^*  Give  me  time  to  consider." 

^^  A  week,  if  you  like^ — and  then  they  parted. 

When  the  door  was  closed  between  them, 
"A  rascal !"  said  Sir  Edward.  "  Fairly  caught.'^ 
said  Mr.  Scrivener. 


JACK  A8H0EK.  86 


CHAPTER  VI. 


To  onr  own  great  ntidietion  we  get  tiloat  agtiit->We  make 
our  aeqnaintaaee  more  mtimete  with  Jack — He  doea  the 
amiable  with  the  goda  aod  goddeaaea  of  the  figure-head — 
Thej  cat  and  mn,  and  leaTe  him  in  the  larch-— Jack  in  hia 
bammockf  and  in  moch  jeopardy. 

Let  us  return  to  the  Glory;  let  us  embosom 
ourselves  in  the  clear  greenish  seas  of  Spithead, 
and  descending  to  the  lower  deck  of  the  vene- 
rable three-decker,  let  us  look  for  Jack,  our  own 
dear  delightful  Jack  Truepenny.  It  will  be^  I 
expect,  some  diflBculty  before  we  find  him  ;  for, 
as  we  have  before  mentioned,  yesterday  it  was 
his  sovereign  will  and  pleasure  to  get  very  par- 
ticularly drunk  ;  and  he  liked  it  so  much,  that 
even  when  most  drunken  he  provided  for  a  con- 
tinuance of  his  bestial  ecstasy. 
But  few  civilians  can  properly  understand  the 


86  ^ACK    ASHORE. 

passion  that  sometimes  besets  a  man-of-war*K 
man  for  intoxication.  With  the  sailor,  it  is  not 
the  habitual  craving  for  excitement  that  forms 
the  disease  of  the  confirmed  drunkard  ashore, 
but  more  a  disarrangement  of  the  physical  than 
of  the  moral  man.  We  never  could  satis- 
factorily account  to  ourselves  for  this  furor 
for  occasional  ebriety  that  besets  poor  Jack. 
His  intoxication  is  like  nothing  seen  on  shore. 
We  very  well  know  that  many  reasons,  each 
good  as  far  as  it  goes,  have  been  given  for  this 
mania,  but  not  one  of  them  is  sufficient  in  itself 
to  account  for  the  dangers,  even  to  the  risk  of 
his  life,  that  he  will  run,  in  order  to  acquire  the 
means  of  making  himself,  for  a  few  hours,  above 
all  the  cares  of  that  life,  and  beneath  the  nature 
of  the  very  brute  that  perisheth.  Many  and 
excellent,  at  least  to  the  drunkard,  are  the  pleas 
for  drinking.  Too  much  or  too  little  happi- 
ness ;  joy  or  grief;  bad  or  good  luck ;  birth  and 
death ;  marriage  and  a  sentence  of  divorce :  all 
are  unimpugnable  reasons.  Famine  or  repletion 
alike  fly  to  the  cup ;  in  fact,  when  the  infatua.* 
tion  is  upon  the  man,  he  measures  not  his  life 


JACK  ASHO£K.  87 

by  hoursy  and  weeks,  and  years — neither  by 
thoughts  nor  acts,  good  or  evil ;  but  solely  by 
the  quantity  of  strong  drink  that  he  has  im- 
bibed, and  the  alternations  of  drunk  and  sober. 

Now,  all  this  applies  but  very  weakly  to  the 
tar.  Give  him  his  fill,  his  run,  and  he  grows 
disgusted  with  his  suction  and  ashamed  of  him- 
self. By  most  excellent  regulations,  he  has  been 
obliged  to  lead  and  to  be  made  to  appreciate 
a  life  of  cleanliness,  health,  and  comparative 
temperance.  After  his  fit  of  folly  is  over — that 
i%  if  it  be  allowed  to  finish  naturally  by  a  wear- 
ing out — ^he  draws  his  conclusions,  and  justly 
pronounces  himself  to  be  an  ass,  and  but  little 
better  than  a  shore-going  lubber;  and  hence- 
forward lives  cleanly  and  like  a  gentleman, 
until  the  sense  of  prohibition  grows  strong  and 
irksome  upon  him,  and  then  he  again  gets 
gloriously  drunk  in  order  to  prove  that  he  is  a 
free  agent. 

Now  drunkenness  has  an  acuteness  peculiarly 
its  own ;  like  the  animal  creation,  it  possesses,  in 
a  marked  degree,  the  instinct  of  self-preservation, 
and  it  was  distinctly  shown  in  the  case  of  poor 


88  JACK   ASHO££. 

Jack.  Though  he  was  unable  to  prevent  his 
girl  and  his  Jew  from  robbing  him,  yet  he  had 
tact  enough  to  secrete  about  his  person  a  blad- 
der containing  nearly  a  quart  of  fiery  rum,  and 
this  feat  he  cunningly  performed  at  the  exact 
moment  when  he  could  positively  drink  no 
more,  and  just  before  he  fell  down  in  a  state  of 
total  oblivion. 

His  Jew  had  fleeced  him  as  much  as  his  two 
ladies  would  permit,  and  then  his  Poll  and  his 
Sue,  in  order,  as  they  said,  that  he  might  not 
be  plundered,  had  taken  everything  of  value 
from  his  person,  and  then  bundled  him  like  so 
much  offal  under  the  forty-two  pounder  that 
separated  his  mess  from  the  next 

Just  about  the  breaking  of  the  day,  honest 
John  Truepenny  dreamed  that  the  head  cook 
of  the  regions  below  had  turned  him  on  the 
spit  that  he  was  roasting  upon,  and  he  awoke 
with  the  torture  of  the  intolerable  heat.  He 
was,  or  at  least  he  seemed  to  be,  one  mass  of 
fire.  Everything  around  him  was  wrapped  in 
profound  darkness.  He  first  of  all  perceived 
that  he  was  not  in  his  hammock,  and,  after  he 


JACK  A8HOEB.  89 

had  twice  broken  his  head  against  the  trunnions 
of  the  guD,  he  contrived  to  creep  from  under 
Its  carriage,  and  he  then  became  partially  sen- 
sible that  he  was  very  beastly  drunk,  and  burn- 
ing with  thirst  and  fever* 

In  this  state  he  staggered  on  to  the  fore 
hatchway  ladder,  and  contrived  to  ascend,  stum- 
bUng  over  and  kicking  various  of  his  shipmates, 
who  had  been  too  much  intoxicated  to  get  into 
their  hammocks.  He  at  last  reached  the 
galley,  and  had  suflSdent  sense  to  remove  the 
lid  from  one  of  the  coppers,  and  to  procure 
from  it  huge  draughts  of  delicious  cold  water ; 
after  which  he  proceded  to  the  head,  and  there 
was  then  just  sufficient  light  to  enable  him  to 
see  distinctly  what  was  going  forward,  although 
the  summer  fog  hung  heavily  around. 

What  took  place  in  the  head  Jack  True- 
penny never  clearly  understood,  though  it  is 
certain  that  he  took  an  active  part  in  all  the 
proceedings.  It  seemed  to  him  at  once  real 
and  ideaL  The  best  account  that  he  could  give 
of  it,  even  upon  his  oath,  was  much  to  the 
following  purport :    He  found  the  sentry  there 


90  JACK    A8HOSB. 

as  usual ;  but  the  whole  group  that  had  com- 
posed the  figure-head  had  come  more  in-board, 
and  had  changed  places.  They  all  seemed, 
somehow  or  another,  to  have  got  a  half  hour^s 
leave  of  life,  and  talked  and  moved  about, 
almost  as  rationally  as  John  Truepenny  him- 
self. Besides,  they  had  company,  men  whom 
Jack  never  saw  before,  but  they  were  very 
jovial  pleasant  fellows  notwithstanding;  and 
Madame  Fame^  with  her  long  trumpet,  had  pro- 
duced a  lime-juice  bottle  of  old  Jamaica  rum, 
and  handed  it  about  in  little  cups  very  liberally 
and  graciously.  Jack  partook  of  it,  of  course; 
indeed,  she  treated  him  like  a  distinguished 
guest.  "He  could  not  tell  how  it  was,  but  it 
did  not  surprise  him  at  the  time  to  hear  her 
speak,  and  see  her  smile  and  drink.  At  length 
she  seemed,  like  Tam  o*  Shanter^s  landlady — 


••  To  grow  gracious 
With  fayoun  rare  and  sly  and  precious. 


If 


until  the  old  man  with  the  Smyrna  iig-jar, 
who  was  supposed  to  represent  Ocean,  grew 
restive,  and  Britannia  herself  protested  strongly 


JACK   ASnO£S.  91 

agaiQSt  such  indeoorous  proceedings.  Then 
the  little  boys  and  girls  set  up  a  villanous 
screeching;  and,  in  fact,  to  use  Jack's  own 
words,  there  was  such  a  shindy,  that  he  thought 
the  ship  was  going  to  tumble  overboard.  In 
the  midst  of  the  row,  and  when  the  old  man 
was  the  most  abusive^  some  one  put  a  saw  in 
Jack's  hand,  in  order  that  he  might  unship  the 
fouUroouthed  rascal,  and  bundle  him  into  the 
sea;  and  that,  being  angry  with  his  inter- 
ference, he  worked  lustily,  and  after  some  time 
somebody  gave  him  a  rope  to  hold  on  by,  and 
just  then  he  observed  the  whole  family,  boys 
and  girls,  walk  very  deliberately  into  the  water, 
Madam  Fame  piping  her  eye  as  if  her  heart 
would  break ;  and  Britannia  bidding  him  take 
her  compliments  to  Captain  Firebrass,  and  tell 
him  she  was  so  much  shocked  with  his  blas- 
|;Aemous  swearing  and  cursing,  that  she  could 
no  longer  stay  on  board  his  ship,  particularly 
as  she  had  a  young  and  growing  family,  for 
whose  mawleys  she  was  bound  to  be  careful. 
Jack  said  that  he  then  began  to  be  a  little 
struck  when  he  found  himself  alone  in  tlie  head. 


92  JACK    ASHORE. 

for  the  sentry  had  walked  off  with  the  rest ;  so, 
not  wishing  to  be  made  an  aider  and  abettor  of 
this  wholesale  desertion,  he  had  tumbled  down 
below,  and  again  crept  under  the  forty-two 
pounder ; — ^and  that  is  the  best  account  he  could 
give  of  the  matter. 

But  we,  as  true  historians,  are  bound  to 
supply  a  few  omissions.  We  believe  that  Jack 
gave  a  true  account  of  his  individual  impression 
of  what  took  place  in  the  head  on  that  memo- 
rable morning,  with  the  exception  that  he  mis- 
took the  word  marah^  (never  having  heard  of 
them  before,  for  mawleySi  two  of  which,  well 
tarred  and  heavy,  he  himself  possessed;)  but 
we  must  add  for  him,  that  having  regained  the 
shelter  of  his  gun,  he  found  the  way  to  the 
bladder  of  rum  that  he  had  secreted,  and  sucked 
at  it  till  he  dropped  again  into  a  state  of  such 
complete  stupefaction,  that  there  was  but  a  very 
nice  distinction  between  it  and  apoplexy. 

When  the  decks  were  washed  in  the  morning, 
John  Truepenny  was  found  nearly  suffocated, 
and  weltering  in  a  pool  of  the  wasted  rum. 
His  heavy  and  stertorous  breathing  so  much 


JACK   A8H0£B.  93 

alarmed  his  messmates,  that  tfaey  sent  for  one 
of  the  assistant-surgeoosy  who  bled  him  imme- 
diately, and  then  had  him  conveyed  to  a  ham- 
mock in  the  sick-bay. 

By  this  time,  the  news  of  the  disappearance 
of  the  whole  group  at  the  figure-head,  with 
tbeir  guardian,  the  marine,  was  known  fore  and 
aft  It  was  not  long  before  damning  marks  of 
suspicion  that  honest,  innocent  John  True- 
penny had  been  privy  to  the  rape  of  the  immor- 
tals, were  discovered.  His  banyan  shirt  and 
canvass  trousers  were  stained  with  the  various 
colours  that  had  made  the  figures  magnificent ; 
much  of  the  gilding  in  which  they  had  gloried 
was  transferred  to  the  seat  of  his  inexpressibles ; 
be  was  sprinkled  over  with  sawdust ;  and,  to 
make  the  matter  more  conclusive,  a  foot  and 
three  inches  and  one-half  of  Madam  Fame^s 
trumpet  was  found  under  the  very  gun  where 
Jack  had  slept,  and  the  right  ear  of  one  of  the 
little  children  in  his  starboard  trousers  pocket, 
that  he  must  have  pinched  off  in  a  moment 
of  amiable  playfulness. 

Before  Jack  had  well  cleared  his  intellects 


94  JACK    A6H0SE. 

from  the  effects  of  his  debauch,  he  was  made 
aware  of  the  unpleasant  situation  in  which  he 
lay,  not  stood,  for  he  kept  his  hammock  all  the 
next  day,  being  reported  sick, — which  was 
much  more  easy  for  him  to  do  than  for  Captain 
Firebrass  to  keep  his  temper.  The  latter  did  not 
attempt  it,  but,  like  a  good-hearted  fellow  as  he 
really  was^  being  fully  aware  of  his  infirmity, 
he  kept  his  cabin,  and  found  as  much  vent  for 
his  rage  as  he  could,  by  breaking  sundry  arti- 
cles of  his  furniture. 

As  Jack  is  shortly  going  to  be  put  upon 
his  trial,  before  that  momentous  affair  com- 
mences, let  us  try  to  give  our  friends  some  little 
idea  of  his  personal  ai^earance.  He  was  a 
fine,  straight;  broad-chested  fellow,  standing 
just  six  feet  without  his  shoes.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  too  great  width  of  his  shoulders, 
and  the  muscular  accumulations  upon  his  arms, 
bis  symmetry  would  have  been  as  perfect  as  that 
of  the  Belvidere  Apollo.  But  this  little  dis^ 
proportion  was  produced  by  his  hanging  his 
whole  weight  upon  ropes,  running  up  the  rig- 
ging like    a    cat,   and  making  more    use    of 


JACK   ASUOBE.  95 

his  arms  than  of  his  legs.  His  feet,  in  their 
smallne8s»  were  almost  ladylike^  Proud  was 
Jack  of  them ;  and  in  a  little  sharply  pointed 
shoe  he  could  shuflle  them  so  rapidly  in  his 
hornpipe  that  they  became  all  but  invisible. 
We  cannot  give  so  much  praise  to  bis  hands; 
they  were  enormously  large  and  horny,  with  a 
tremendous  spread,  every  finger  of  which 
looked  like  a  chump  of  a  small  hawser.  His 
grip  must  have  been  terrific.  All  the  parts  of 
his  person  that  were  not  exposed  to  the  weather 
were  delicately  fair,  and  his  hair,  of  a  real  and 
pure  auburn,  with  not  a  shade  of  the  carrot 
among  it,  covered  his  head  with  short,  thick, 
and  vigorous  curls.  His  pigtail^-and  then  it 
was  a  point  of  honour  to  sport  one--was  im* 
meosely  thick  and  clubbed,  but,  owing  to  its 
aptitude  to  curl,  would  never  lie  straight  down 
his  back,  but  turned  itself  up  very  impudently, 
so  that  his  pate  seemed  to  have  a  hook  fastened 
to  it  behind.  Though  his  face  was  broad,  it 
was  glorious  in  a  beautiful  manliness,  and  its 
expression  of  reckless  good-nature  won  the  heart 
at  oDce.     To  look  only  at  his  large  mellow 


96  JACK    A8H0BE. 

blue  eyesy  you  would  suppose  that  you  were 
gazing  upon  a  woman,  or  one  endued  with  all 
a  woman's  sweetness  and  tenderness  of  nature  ; 
but  this  was  more  than  balanced  by  the  bold 
outline  of  the  nose,  the  resolution  that  seemed 

settled  upon  the  lips  when  they  were  in  a  state 

• 

of  repose,  and  the  determination  of  the  rounded 
chin.  His  smile  was  a  fascination,  and  his 
teeth  would  have  been  unrivalled  in  their  ap- 
pearance, had  he  not  stained  them  foully  by 
chewing  tobacca  Thus  his  natural  advan- 
tages had  been  overabundant,  whilst  the  po- 
verty of  his  mental  acquirements  had  nearly 
rendered  them  nugatory. 

Even  as  a  man-of-war's  man  he  was  not  per- 
fect He  had  received  his  one,  his  two,  and  his 
three  dozens  at  the  gangway,  and  had,  in  gene- 
ral, deserved  them.  His  principal  vices  pro- 
ceeded from  a  bountiful  and  luxuriant  animal 
conformation.  His  intense  relish  for  sensual 
pleasures  too  often  made  him  forget  the  dignity 
of  manhood;  his  high  spirits  sometimes  be- 
trayed him  into  insolence  to  his  superiors ;  and 
the  consciousness  of  his  great  physical  strength 


JACK   A8H0XK.  97 

into  oppression  and  tyranny  towards  his  equals 
and  inferiors  in  station.  Had  he  been  taught 
virtue^  he  would  have  loved  it ;  he  was  affec- 
tionate and  very  grateful  in  his  nature ;  when 
not  too  severely  tried,  of  great  good  temper ; 
generous  to  extravagance,  and  of  an  innate 
nobleness  of  heart  that  made  him  loathe  every- 
thing that  was  in  the  least  shabby.  He  was 
unsuspecting  and  simple;  but  when  once  de- 
ceived, and  he  discovered  it,  let  the  deceiver 
stand  clear,  for  he  was  as  rash  in  his  resent- 
ments aa  he  was  open  in  his  confiding  nature. 

At  times,  when  standing  apart  from  his  ship- 
mates, with  folded  arms,  and  resting  partially 
upon  one  of  the  tremendous  pieces  of  ordnance 
with  which  the  Glory  was  armed,  he  had  more 
than  an  aristocratic — ^he  had  a  decidedly  heroic 
look.  He  seemed  bom  to  command,  and  to  be 
conscious  of  it  But  this  elevation  of  character 
was  discernible  in  him  in  his  moments  of  musing 
only.  A  single  word,  even  a  look  from  a  ship- 
mate, and  he  was  again  the  roystering,  swear* 
iDg,  devil-may-care  man-of-war^s  man. 

In  all  its  varieties  he  was  a  thorough  seaman. 

VOL.   1.  V 


98  JACK  ASHOBE. 

When  the  huge  ship  was  flying  through  the 
lashing  waves  before  the  demon  of  the  storm,  it 
was  John  Truepenny^s  nervous  arm  that  held 
the  weather-spoke  of  the  wheel,  and  his  un- 
quailing  eye  that  watched  the  coming  of  the 
mountain  wave,  in  order  to  ease  dexterously 
with  the  helm  the  surging  of  the  labouring 
vessel.  He  was  the  captain  of  his  gun,  and 
generally  his  tact  at  availing  himself  of  the 
heave  of  the  sea,  and  his  aim,  could  be  depended 
upon.  Often,  when  the  Old  Glory  was  blus- 
tering after  some  strange  sail  that  would  not 
heave-to  to  be  examined  and  the  long-headed 
gunner  had  himself  tried  to  bring  her  to  with 
the  chase-gun  on  the  forecastle,  a  favourite 
long  four-and-tweuty-pounder,  and  failed,  he 
would  say,  *^  Let  Jack  Truepenny  try  his 
hand ;"  and  a  rent  sail  or  a  dropping  spar 
generally  proved  the  excellence  of  the  advice, 
and  the  contumacious  absconder  would  up  with 
her  courses,  and  back  her  main^topsail  with  be- 
coming diligence. 

As  to  Jack's  book-learning,  the  best  part  of 
it  was  yet  to  be  acquired.     He  could  read  any 


JACK    ASHOBE*  99 

work  in  the  English  language,  but  his  taste  led 
bim  to  prefer  the  manrellous.    He  also  wrote  a 
good  round  hand — ^not  expeditiously  oertidnly, 
but  verj  Isfphly  and  carefully — so  carefully, 
that  when  you  saw  him  in  the  act  that  leads 
people  to  commit  forgery,  before  he  made  the 
letter  on  the  paper,  you  might  observe  him 
forming  it  with  bis  lips,  by  screwing. them  up 
into  the  oddest  of  all  possible  shapes.     In  his 
orthography   he  was  a  strenuous  advocate  for 
the  unbounded  liberty  of  conscience^  so  dear  to 
a  freebom   ^Englishman.     He  had  a  right  to 
spell  as  he  chose,  and  he  chose  to  spell  after  his 
own  fashion ;  the  dictionaries  had  their  method, 
and  he  had  his.     If  a  man  chose  to  take  Sheri- 
dan, or  Walker,  or  Johnson,  for  an  authority  as 
to  what  letters  should  form  a  word,  Jack  had 
no  objection  to  it,  but  he  thought  it  a  great 
trouble ;  he  always  abided  by  an  authority  at 
his  command  at  all  times,  and  that  was  John 
Truepenny^s.    John   used  very  reasonably   to 
observe,  that  there  was  no  very  great  merit  in 
being   able  to  read  that  which  was  properly 
spelled — it  was  like  crossing  a  river  with  a  fine 

F  2 


100  JACK   ASHORE. 

bridge  built  over  it ;  but  to  read  some  writing 
— bis  own,  for  instance,  when  he  was  pathetic — 
there  was  the  glory— it  could  be  compared  to 
crossing  a  torrent  upon  a  few  broken  sticks. 

Such  is  an  outline  of  Jack,  morally  and  phy- 
sically. We  must  now  leave  him  for  a  short 
time  in  his  hammock,  to  recover  from  the  effects 
of  his  inordinate  carousing  on  pay-day. 


JACK   ASBOKE.  101 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Lootethoogfats  on  tlie  lost  for  wealtb-^Hoir  to  make  lords  of 
joor  distant  pottoritj— Mooh  about  pedigree  and  pettifog- 
ging, and  other  matters  as  diy  as  an  old  parchment. 

When  families  have  intomarried  for  two  or 
three  generations,  the  several  relationships  be- 
tween all  but  the  princifMil  members  of  them 
become  as  intricate  as  the  sphynx  riddle,  and 
as  tangled  as  the  unkempt  hair  of  a  boy  at  a 
cheap  boarding-school,  or  the  ideas  of  a  prime 
minister  who  cannot  exactly  make  up  his  mind 
to  resign.  Were  it  not  for  the  singularity  of 
the  appearance,  we  would,  in  this  our  veracious 
narrative,  have  caused  to  be  engraved  a  genea- 
logical tree,  in  order  to  show  in  what  relation- 


102  JACK  A8H0BE. 

ship  Sir  Edward  Fortintower  stood  to  Ann 
Truepenny,  and  to  her  grandfather,  and  where 
was  the  exact  sprout  on  the  same  tree  that  was 
lopped  off,  or  missed,  and  which  now,  Mr. 
Scrivener  had  more  than  hinted  at,  was  again 
to  be  found,  and  engrafted  on  the  parent  stem, 
to  the  injury,  if  not  to  the  utter  ruin,  of  Sir  Ed- 
ward. We  must,  instead,  attempt  to  explain 
this  matter  verbally. 

We  will  begin  with  the  line  of  the  True- 
pennys.  They  first  sprang  into  affluence  and 
notice  in  the  reign  of  William  and  Mary,  as 
merchants.  At  that  time  the  public  or  na- 
tional debt  began  to  grow  into  importance,  and 
the  Truepenny  of  that  period  plainly  foresaw 
what  it  would  ultimately  lead  to.  He  had  fan- 
cied that,  like  most  other  people,  he  had  ances- 
tors-^a  fancy  so  natural,  that  no  one  would 
dispute  with  him  the  possession  of  it ;  but  when 
he  asserted  that  he  came  from  the  common 
stock  of  the  Fortintowers,  which  family  once 
gave  England  its  loftiest  and  proudest  peers, 
people  laughed  at  him  as  an  infatuated,  vain 
old  man.    However,  he  persisted  in  his  opinion. 


JACK   ASHOBS.  103 

and,  by  the  means  of  the  fund%  resoWed  to 
work  out  his  purpose ;  and  many  a  less  noble 
undertaking  has  won  the  world's  admiration, 
and  been  glorified  as  a  great  and  heroic  deed. 
It  was,  that  he  should  be  the  instrument  of  re- 
storing this  family  to  its  pristine  grandeur,  and 
that  one  of  his  immediate  descendants  should 
be,  or  should  give  to  the  world,  an  Earl  of  For* 
tiniower,  and  that  this  earl  should  be  the  richest 
of  England's  nobility. 

In  order  to  effect  this,  he  reserved  a  large 
sum  of  money  in  the  stocks,  that  was  to  lie 
there  and  accumulate  at  compound  interest, 
until  such  time  as  it  would  be  able  by  its 
own  magnitude  to  bring  about  the  desired  ob- 
ject, either  by  purchasing  the  earldom  and  title 
for  a  male  descendant,  or  if  none  should  remain, 
for  a  female  who  should  intermarry  with  a 
genuine  Fortintower,  and  then  the  wealth  was 
to  do  its  oflBce  for  both. 

This  gentleman,  so  ambitious  for  his  poste- 
rity, was  well  aware  that  his  will  was  not  strictly 
legal,  and  that  a  needy  or  a  sensual  set  of  heirs 
might  attempt  to  set  it  aside.     To  obviate  this 


104  JACK   A8H0RB. 

as  much  as  in  him  lay,  he  made  a  solemn  ap- 
peal in  this  document  from  son  to  son ;  and  as 
his  family  was  never  numerous,  and  indepen- 
dent of  this  reserved  fund  they  were  more  than 
sufficiently  rich,  it  had  remained  intact  until 
the  present  time,  and  was  now  of  an  enormous 
amount  The  perpetual  trusteeship  of  this 
money  was  invested  in  the  representative  of  the 
Truepenny  family  for  the  time  being,  and  two 
other  trustees,  who  were  to  appoint  trustees 
after  them  until  the  earldom  was  acquired,  and 
then  the  vast  property  was  to  follow  the  usual 
modes  of  inheritance. 

For  a  length  of  time  a  Truepenny  very  regu- 
larly begot  a  Truepenny,  and  each,  as  he  came 
into  possession  of  the  property  and  the  trust, 
asked  himself,  Is  it  time  ?  But  circumstances 
always  gave  an  answer  decidedly  in  the  nega- 
tive. Thus  affairs  and  time  wore  on,  and  the 
very  ancient  Marcus  Truepenny,  Esq.  was  the 
sole  representative  supposed  to  be  living,  and 
principal  trustee  to  the  immense  accumulations 
in  the  funds.  He  was  the  fifth  in  descent  from 
him  who  may  justly  be  called  the  founder  of 


JACK   ASHORE.  105 

the  Truepenny  wealth.  His  fiEither  had  been 
thrice  married.  By  his  first  alliance  he  had 
issue  one  son,  who  also  married  and  had  but 
one  son,  old  Truepenny,  now  living,  and  in  him 
the  oldest  branch  of  the  males  of  that  line  ter- 
minated.  By  old  Truepenny ^s  second  marriage 
there  was  also  bom  to  him  one  son,  who  died 
without  children ;  and  by  his  third  and  last 
marriage,  a  third  son,  George,  was  bom,  who 
▼ery  early  in  life  took  to  the  most  profligate 
courses,  and  lived  with  or  married  a  distant 
cousin  of  the  very  family  which  the  Truepenny 
dynasty  was  endeavouring  to  amalgamate  with 
their  own,  or  supplant 

What  became  of  George  Truepenny  and  his 
wife,  or  whether  they  had  any  children,  no  one 
seemed  to  know,  or,  till  now,  to  have  cared. 
This  step  of  George  Truepenny  was  the  very 
w<Nrst,  and  the  most  inimical  to  the  Truepenny 
project,  that  could  have  been  taken.  It  wa^ 
merging  his  own  family,and  in  a  manner  actually 
annihilating  its  identity  with  a  beggarly  ofishoot 
of  the  very  house  that  they  had  striven,  for  so 
many  generations,  to  represent.     It  was,  how- 

F  5 


106  JACK   ASHORE. 

ever,  from  this  obscure  source  that  all  the 
dangers  that  threatened  Sir  Edward  were  to 
be  apprehended. 

However,  the  father  of  this  George  True- 
penny, just  before  he  died,  relented,  and  vainly 
sought  out  his  son,  in  order  that  he  might 
benefit  by  some  portion  of  the  family  wealth  ; 
and  being  full  of  hope  that  he  should  soon  re- 
gain him,  he  purchased  for  him,  and  for  his 
heirs  male,  from  the  venal  ministry  of  the 
day,  the  title  of  baronet ;  and  the  patent  was 
duly  executed ;  but  the  old  man  shortly  after 
died,  and  so  suddenly,  that  he  had  made  for 
his  lost  son  no  pecuniary  provision  with  which 
to  support  the  title ;  indeed,  the  son  never  ap- 
peared, but  died  in  obscurity,  and  in  ignorance 
of  the  honour  that  was  purchased  for  him,  and 
of  the  good  that  was  intended  him. 

We  must  now  refer  to  the  undoubtedly  an- 
cient family  of  the  Fortintowers,  In  very 
remote  times  they  had  been  dukes,  then  earls, 
then  barons,  as  they  approached  the  modern 
era,  and  at  last  dwindled  down  to  mere  baronets. 
Their  race  seems  to  have  been  submitted  to  a 


JACK   ASHOEB.  107 

prooett,  the  very  reverse  of  that  which  their 
soi-^Usani  branch,  the  Truepenny,  wished  to 
institute.  They  gradually,  through  one  cause 
or  another,  lost  honours  and  distinctions,  though 
they  had  kept  their  blood  very  pure.  Indeed, 
they  seem  to  have  understood  the  vanity  of 
titles,  to  have  despised  the  boast  of  heraldry, 
and  to  have  eschewed  it  for  the  more  substan* 
tial  advantage  of  increasing  their  estates.  They 
grew  uncommonly  rich,  and  the  last  baronet. 
Sir  Mortimer  Fortintower,  was,  if  not  actually 
a  miser,  a  character  as  nearly  approaching  to  it 
as  a  well-born  gentleman  could  be. 

Now,  this  last  baronet.  Sir  Mortimer,  died 
c^hildless,  and  as  the  title  was  strictly  entailed 
in  the  direct  line  of  the  heirs  male,  when  his 
immense  estates  devolved  on  his  brother,  the 
herald's  office  had  to  record  one  baronetcy  less. 
Mr.  Fortintower,  of  Fortintower,  had  three 
sons,  Alfred,  Benjamin,  and  Charles.  Alfred, 
the  eldest,  made  a  love-match,  by  which  he  had 
five  daughters  and  no  son.  Having  offended 
his  father,  he  lived  in  obscurity  and  poverty, 
and  died    before  his  parent.     The  property, 


108  JACK   ASHORE. 

like  the  title,  was  confined  to  heirs  male,  so 
long  as  they  existed ;  therefore  Alfred's  daugh- 
ters were  paupers,  though  grandchildren  of  a 
man  of  such  vast  estates.  It  was  the  youngest 
and  fifth  daughter,  Martha,  with  whom  the  re- 
probate Truepenny  formed  a  connexion, — whe- 
ther legal  or  not,  until  the  time  of  our  tale,  no 
one  of  the  Fortintowers  seemed  to  know  or  tg 
have  cared. 

Benjamin,  the  second  son,  and  the  presumed 
heir,  after  the  death  of  Alfred,  to  Mr.  Fortin- 
tower,  died  a  bachelor ;  and  Charles,  the  third 
son,  married  and  had  a  numerous  family,  all 
of  which  died,  save  one  daughter,  who  had, 
against  both  the  wishes  of  her  father  and  grand- 
father, married  a  poor  scholar  of  the  name  of 
Abbot,  and  doubly  exasperated  all  her  rela- 
tions by  presuming  to  be  very  happy  with 
him. 

In  order  the  more  efiectually  to  punish  this 
act  of  insubordination  and  contumely,  Charles 
and  his  father  joined  together  to  cut  ofi^  the 
entail,  and  they  contrived  also  to  smuggle 
through   parliament   a    short  private  act,    to 


JACK   ASHORE.  109 

enable  father  and  son,  or  the  survivor,  to  dis- 
pose arbitrarily  and  absolutely  of  all  the  family 
property.  Mr.  Fortintower,  however,  survived 
his  son  Charles,  but  he  was  never  reconciled  to 
his  grand-daughter,  Mrs.  Abbot. 

When^  at  a  very  advanced  age,  Mr.  Fortin* 
tower  turned  it  over  in  his  mind  that  he  could 
not  take  his  wealth  with  him,  he  began  to  think 
of  disposing  of  it,  and  made  active  inquiries 
after  his  granddaughters  by  his  eldest  son, 
Alfred.  The  four  eldest  of  these  were  proved 
to  have  lived  in  misery,  and  to  have  died  un- 
married, and  in  obscurity  and  want.  What 
actually  became  of  the  fifth  and  youngest 
daughter,  Martha,  who  had  for  some  time  lived 
with  George  Truepenny,  either  as  his  mistress 
or  his  wife,  could  not  be  accurately  ascertained. 
It  was  generally  supposed  that  they  had  pe- 
rished from  off  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  left 
no  vestige  behind  them.  This  report  was  the 
more  confirmed  by  the  ineffectual  attempts  of 
George's  father  to  discover  them. 

In  this  state  of  affairs,  old  Mr.  Fortintower 
naturally  looked    towards   his  granddaughter, 


110  JACK   ASHORE. 

Mrs.  Abbot,  the  only  surviving  child  of  his 
favourite  son  Charles.  He  found  that  both  she 
and  her  husband  were  dead,  and  that  they  had 
left  but  one  child,  Edward,  who  was  at  that 
time  at  school,  a  burthen  to  the  not  very  opu- 
lent family  of  the  Abbots. 

In  Edward^s  favour,  then,  his  great  grand- 
father disposed  of  all  his  property,  on  the 
usual  condition,  that  he  assumed  the  family 
name  of  Fortintower.  But  all  through  this 
important  document,  and  in  every  clause  of  it, 
there  was  a  reservation  for  the  rights  of  the 
offspring,  whether  male  or  female,  of  his  eldest 
son  Alfred,  if  any  offspring  legally  begotten 
should  appear ;  and  if  there  should,  that  per- 
son was  to  take  Edward^s  place  in  all  the  be- 
nefits devised  by  the  will,  settling  and  securing 
on  the  latter  the  sum  of  five  hundred  pounds 
yearly. 

But  old  Mr.  Fortintower  finished  his  will  by 
a  very  judicious  proviso.  It  began  by  stating 
the  hardship  that  would  be  inflicted  upon  Ed- 
ward, if,  after  possessing  his  wealth  for  many 
years,  and  supposing  it  to  be  absolutely  his 


JACK  ASHORE.  Ill 

owDj  under  that  impresaoii,  that  he  should 
have  married  and  made  other  engagements  in 
aooordanoe  with  his  supposed  wealth,  to  be 
then  obliged  to  yield  or  litigate  it  with  a 
claimant  suddenly  started  forward ;  he  there- 
fore limited  the  time  for  his  granddaughter's 
heirs,  if  any,  to  benefit  by  his  wfll,  until  ten 
years  after  his  death ;  and  then,  if  after  that 
period  they  established  a  daim  to  be  of  his 
kindred,  they  were  to  have  five  hundred  a  year 
each,  be  they  many,  or  few,  or  one. 

Now,  Mr.  Fortintower  had  been  dead  more 
than  nine  years,  and  should  no  claimant  ap* 
pear  (and  none  was  ever  dreamed  of  till  now) 
for  twelve  months  longer,  Sir  Edward  Fortin- 
tower was  perfectly  safe* 

This  is  a  long  and  weary  history  of  pedigreefs 
but  we  were  obliged  to  inflict  it  on  the  reader, 
for  the  better  understanding  the  predicament 
in  which  Sir  Edward  just  now  found  himself. 
The  cup  of  bliss  was  threatened  to  be  dashed 
from  his  lips,  even  at  the  eleventh  hour. 

No  one  knew  all  these  particulars  correctly, 
excepting  Mr.  Scrivener  and  Sir  Edward.    The 


112  JACK    ASHORE. 

wily  lawyer  had  been,  for  many  years,  confi- 
dentially employed  by  Sir  Edward,  and  ad- 
mitted to  his  friendship  and  his  familiarity. 
During  this  intercourse^  Mr.  Scrivener'sdaughter 
had  grown  into  womanhood,  and  the  father 
began  to  entertain  for  her  the  most  ambitious 
expectations.  When  these  were  fully  under- 
stood, Sir  Edward  dropped  all  social  inter- 
course  with  the  lawyer^s  family,  and  took  his 
affairs  totally  out  of  his  hands.  This  appeared 
not  to  give  so  much  ofience  as  grief  to  Mr. 
Scrivener,  and  Miss  Scrivener  was  nearly  broken- 
hearted, and  perhaps  would  have  been  really 
worried  into  an  illness  by  her  misplaced  affec- 
tion, had  not  her  parent  continually  fed  her 
with  hopes — hopes  that  he  believed  that  he  had, 
at  any  time,  the  power  to  realise. 

Now,  Mr.  Scrivener  was,  in  his  profession 
excepted,  a  profoundly  ignorant  man.  But  this 
ignorance  was  not  apparent  in  the  usual  routine 
of  social  intercourse.  The  mere  lawyer,  as  he 
is  represented  on  the  stage,  exists  not  in  so- 
ciety; and  yet  Mr.  Scrivener  was  a  mere 
lawyer.     But  his  mingling  with  gentlemen,  as 


JACK  A8H0BK*  113 

well  as  with  members  of  all  orders  of  society, 
had  given  polish  to  his  manners,  fluency  to  his 
conversation,  and  even  some  degree  of  elegance 
to  his  address.  His  natural  good  sense  made 
him  express  himself  forcibly  and  correctly  upon 
most  topics  of  general  conversation,  and  yet 
he  was  more  ignorant  than  is  the  mass  of  me- 
chanics. On  any  subject  connected  with  li* 
terature^  the  fine  arts,  or  philosophy,  the 
crassitude  of  his  mind  was  astonishing.  His 
morality,  his  religion,  as  well  as  his  knowledge, 
were  confined  to  the  law ;  and  all  that  the  law 
enabled  him  to  achieve,  or  permitted  him  to  do 
with  impunity,  that  he  did  without  conscience 
and  without  remorse. 


114  JACK  A8H0R£. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Off  to  Ma  tgaiii — Jaok  stQl  afloat,  and  in  a  acrape^Makes  a 
bad  band  at  saying  bis  back^*Tbings  look  dismal — Jack 
in  tbe  bilboes,  and  the  captain  billons — ^Tbe  captain  of 
marines  mancenyring  witb  a  long  story. 

We  must  now  be  away  again  to  Spithead. 
The  day  but  one  after  the  abduction  of  the 
glory  from  the  head  of  tbe  Old  Glory,  Captain 
Firebrass  issued  from  his  cabin  exceedingly 
wroth. 

The  surgeon  had  reported  poor  John  True- 
penny fit  for  duty— that  is,  well  capable  to  re- 
ceive on  his  bare  back  three  or  four  dozen 
lashes  from  the  cat*o'->nine  tails,  as  it  might 
seem  good  to  his  captain  to  bestow. 

It  was  just  seven  bells — that  is,  half-past 
eleven  in  the  forenoon — when  Jack  made  his 


JACK    A8HORK.  115 

appearance  on  the  quarter-deck«  to  answer  for 
maaifold  high  crimes  and  misdemeanors  to  be 
then  and  there  aUeged  against  him.  He  stood 
boldly  apright  before  his  commander,  as  an 
innocent  man  should  stand;  yet  was  there  a 
certain  dash  of  shame  upon  his  handsome  fea* 
tuies^  that  seemed  to  struggle  with  his  honest 
expressioa  of  indignation.  On  the  binnacle  lay 
the  articles  of  war,  the  ofBcers  wore  their  side 
arms,  and  there  was  an  ill-looking  guard  of 
marines  drawn  up  on  the  poop.  These  were 
awkward  demonstrations,  and  Jack  understood 
them  but  too  welL  It  was  very  evident  that 
every  one  pitied  him,  even  the  skipper  who  had 
predetermined  to  flay  him ;  but  he  was  resolved 
that  some  one  should  be  offered  up  as  a  sacrifice 
to  appease  his  wrath. 

The  first  lieutenant,  in  order  a  little  to  mol- 
Kfy  the  temper  of  the  captain,  and  somewhat 
to  divert  his  attention,  took  that  opportunity  of 
reporting  to  him  that  the  artificers  from  the 
dockyard  had  just  comjdeted  the  fiddle-head, 
in  substitution  for  the  lost  group,  and  that  it 
looked    remarkably  welL      Captain  Firebrass 


116  JACK   ASHORE. 

made  no  reply  to  this,  excepting  by  a  gloomy 
and  forbidding  scowl,  when  Mr.  Trestletree, 
the  master,  stepped  up,  and  humbly  ventured 
an  opinion  that  the  ship  would  now  lie  a 
quarter  of  a  point  nearer  to  the  wind,  and  that 
she  would  infallibly  work  less  heavily.  To 
this  kind  suggestion  Captain  Frirebrass  made 
no  other  reply,  than  a  permission  to  the  master 
to  go  to  that  place  which  it  is  reckoned  not  polite 
to  name.  The  old  master  murmured  something 
in  reply,  to  the  effect  that  he  might  as  well,  for 
all  the  comfort  he  got,  as  stay  under  his  com- 
mand, but  that  he  would  take  further  time  to 
reflect  upon  his  gracious  permission. 

*^  John  Truepenny,"  said  Captain  Firebrass, 
**  stand  forward.'' 

Jack  stood  forward,  and  faced  the  fiery 
glance  of  his  commander,  witli  a  mild  yet  un- 
daunted look.  It  was  hardly  possible  for  his 
full  blue  eyes  to  look  fiercely. 

"  You  were  drunks  John  Truepenny,  all  day 
on  Monday,  and  were  not  sober  all  day  on 
Tuesday.  By  the  jumping  Jesuit  1  I'll  flog 
you.'' 


JACK    ASHORE.  117 

*'  Fay-day,  your  honour,"  said  Jack,  sub- 
miaBiTely. 

**  Pay-day,  you  rum-swilling  son  of  a  sea* 
cook ;  bow  long  does  pay-day  last  ?^ 

*^  Till  a  poor  fellow  gets  sober,  your 
honour.'' 

This  shrewd  answer  produced  an  almost 
general  smile ;  but  it  bad  no  other  effSect  upon 
Firebrass  than  to  make  him  take  a  nervous 
pluck  at  the  waistband  of  his  trousers,  and 
utter  peevishly,  **  By  gad !  but  FU  flog  him 
however." 

^  Yes,  you  soaked  swab,^  he  continued ; 
^  and  so,  if  you  had  but  the  means,  pay-day 
would  last  you  till  doomsday,  and  when  the 
angel  piped  all  hands  up  hatches,  you  would 
be  so  drunk  that  you  would  not  be  able  to  give 
an  account  of  yourself,  and  thus  the  devil 
would  claw  you  off  in  the  gulping  of  a  glass 
of  half-and-half;  and  what  would  be  thought 
of  me  at  head-quarters — of  me,  your  captain, 
to  sutkr  that?  No,  no;  let  stave-singing 
Gambroon  say  what  he  will,  I  have  too  much 
religion  in  me  to  see  my  ship*s  company  damned 


118  JACK   ASHOBK, 

in  that  fashion — I  have  too  much  concern  for 
your  precious  soul.  Ill  flog  you — not  exactly 
for  being  drunk  on  pay-day,  but  for  making  a 
beast  of  yourself  beyond  all  beastliness  of 
honest  seaman-like  drunkenness.'' 

**  I  hope  you  von^t  flog  me,  your  honour/' 
said  Jack,  ratreatingly,  ^  for  this  same  spree. 
I  am  ashamed  of  it,  and  even  the  very  hair  on 
my  head  seems  as  if  it  would  disown  me.  Look 
over  it.  Captain  Firebrass^  for  this  once,  and 
pardon  me  for  what  I  have  suffered,  and  for 
what  I  still  suffer ;  for  somehow  my  eyes  seem 
opened  to  my  disgrace.  If  you  flog  me  for  this, 
there  '11  be  a  good  man  spoiled,  your  honour, 
though  I  say  it  who  should  not  say  it— spoiled 
for  ever  and  ever ;  lost  to  my  king  and  coun* 
try,  and  to  myself.  If  I  am  flogged  now,  I 
shall  never  be  worth  my  salt  again  I" 

**  A  good — a  thorough  good  man,^'  said  the 
first  lieutenant 

*^  A  real  seaman,''  said  the  master. 

*'  A  better  fellow,"  said  the  boatswain,  made 
bold  by  this  general  appeal  in  his  favour, 
'^  never  tailed  on  the  foresheet." 


JACK   ABHOBK.  119 

<^  Braye  as  a  lion,**  said  the  gunner ;  '^  your 
lioDOur  must  remember  that  he  cut  down  the 
sooundrelly  parley vous  that  bad  hold  of  your 
honour's  precious  tbioat,  and  you  couldn't  get 
a  stngle  damn  fairly  upwards.^ 

**  He's  a  very  civil  fellow,^  said  the  captain 
of  marines,  **and  has  always  rolunteered  to 
carry  me  through  the  surf  on  his  back,  when- 
ever  there  was  a  sea  at  landing.'^ 

*'  He  is  an  excellent  man,*'  said  the  surgeon ; 
*'  he  was  never  before  on  the  sick  list,  and  gives 
no  manner  of  trouble.^ 

•*  Pray  do— do^  Captain  Firebrass,*'  said  they 
all  in  a  chorus. 

**  Well,  well,"  said  the  captain  peevishly, 
<<  ni  look  over  the  drink ;  but  I  think  hell 
catch  his  four  dozen  yet.    There's  one  thing  that 

Mr.  Boltshot — may  he  be  d d  for  it ! — has 

said,  that  requires  me  publicly  to  answer.  John 
Truepenny  Baved  my  life — what's  that?  I 
acknowledge  it — what  then  P  I  tell  you,  men 
and  officers,  it  was  his  duty— I  speak  as  his 
commander  and  yours — I  don't  see  any  parti- 
cular merit  in  it." 


120  JACK  A8H0BE* 


c( 


I  am  sure  I  don't,  sir,'*  said  the  booby 
lieutenant  of  the  marines,  wishing  to  conciliate 
the  fiery  monster. 

There  was  a  general  giggle,  and  Firebrass 
turned  upon  him  like  a  mad  cat,  and  cdm« 
menced — **  You  chamber-skipping  slip  of  a 
vattey  de  «Aam,  (for  thus  he  pronounced  it,) 
who  the  devil  ever  supposed  you  could  ever  see 
merit  at  all,  or  know  even  what  the  word  means  ? 
Out  upon  you,  you  pipeclaying  compound  of 
starch  and  pomatum !  But  I  forget  myself. 
I  say  there  was  no  merit  in  saving  my  life ; 
there  is  no  merit,  my  lads,  in  doing  your  duty ; 
and  mine  I  certainly  should  not  do,  if,  because 
any  man  happened  to  save  the  life  of  a  humble 
post-captain  of  the  royal  navy,  I  overlooked 
any  breach  of  his  duty.  I  speak  as  an  officer ; 
but  as  a  man,  and  with  the  feelings  that  a  man 
should  be  proud  to  own,  John  Truepenny, 
whilst  I  have  a  shilling  shall  never  know  want, 
and  when  I  die,  my  will  shall  prove  that  I  am 
not  ungrateful  to  the  strong  arm  and  the  brave 
heart  that  stood  in  the  moment  of  extreme  peril 
between  me  and  death.  But,  as  an  officer,  I  will 


f 
^ 


JACK   A8H0BE«  121 

flog  him,  nevertheless,  if  he  deserves  it — and  I 
am  afraid  he  deserves  it  now— *by  the  jumping 
Jesuit  ni  flog  him — so  that's  my  mind.  Now, 
Jdin  Truepenny,  do  you  deny  that  you  lent 
a  hand  in  despoiling  the  ship  of  her  magnificent 
figure-head  ?^ 

"  Drunk,  your  honour,''  was  the  submissive 
reply. 

*'  Drunk !  but  I  might  tell  you,  my  man, 
that  in  a  legal,  and  in  a  moral  sense  also, 
drunkenness,  instead  of  being  an  extenuation, 
is  an  aggravation  of  ofience.  But,  from  the 
state  of  your  dress,  and  other  circumstantial 
evidence  you  could  not  have  been  so  drunk  as 
not  to  have  known  what  you  were  doing.  Tell 
me  now,  openly,  all  that  passed,  and  if  I  can 
find  any  room  for  mitigation — mind,  I  say  mi* 
ligation — of  punishment,  I  shall  gladly,  very 
gladly  indeed,  avail  myself  of  it.  I  do  not 
believe  that  you  were  the  author,  or  even  one 
of  the  principals,  in  this  insult  to  your  captain 
and  to  your  ship ;  but  that  you  were  mainly 
accessory  to  it,  I  think  is  beyond  a  doubt." 

We  have  omitted,  in  deference  to  the  public 

VOL.   I.  G 


132  JACK  ASHORE. 

taste,  the  interlarding  oaths  that  added  to  the 
vigour  of  this  ftpeecb-^a  speech  to  which,  for 
some  minutes,  poor  Jack  knew  not  how  to  frame 
a  reply*  He  scratched  his  bead,  he  twiddled 
with  his  thumbs,  he  looked  pitifully  into  the 
face  of  every  officer  about  him,  and  then  most 
intently  into  bis  tarpaulin  hat,  that  lay  with  its 
top  downwards,  at  his  feet  before  him,  on  the 
quarterdeck.  But  be  found  assistance  nowhere. 
At  length  he  said,  **  Please  your  honour,  will 
you  give  me  time  to  think  on't  ?  I'm  all  con- 
fused like." 

<<  Half  an  hour,  and  a  bucket  of  cold 
water,^  said  the  captain.  **  There,  take  your 
march  on  the  larboard  gangway ;  and,  in  the 
language  of  the  judges,  *  May  Grod  give  you  a 
good  deliverance !  ^  ** 

Bewildered  Jack  Truepenny  took  the  walk, 
and  declined  the  water.  He  could  make  nothing 
of  it ;  yet  he  became  sensible  that  somehow  or 
another  he  had  assisted  in  pitching  the  gods 
and  goddesses  overboard ;  but  it  all  appeared 
to  hin^  like  a  misty  dream,  and  as  a  dream  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  tell  it  to  the  captain. 


JACK   A8HORB.  123 

When  his  half  hour  of  deliberation  had  ex« 
he  weat  sorrowfully  aft,  and  told  the 
captain  he  would  do  his  best  to  let  him  know 
all  thai  occurred*  The  officers  of  the  ship 
again  congregated  around  him  with  intense 
cuiioaity.  He  then  detailed  all  that  we  have 
before  related,  as  a  dream*  He  was,  to  the 
best  of  bis  ability,  minutely  correct  as  to  his 
impressions ;  but  his  love  of  the  truth,  and  his 
honesty,  did  not  meet  with  their  adequate  re- 
ward. Even  his  friends  fell  from  him,  and 
thought  that  he  was,  in  their  own  phrase,  ro- 
mancing. 

The  captain,  who  considered  himself  as 
treated  like  a  child,  and  as  one  who  could  be 
fooled  by  a  lie  he  deemed  so  apparent,  grew 
furious;  but  he  let  him  finish  his  tale,  how- 
ever, and  when  it  was  done^  he  said  to  him 
sternly,  *'  John  Truepenny,  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life  I  think  meanly  of  you.  A  little 
while  ago,  and  it  would  have  nearly  broken  my 
heart  to  have  flogged  you.  That  weakness  is 
passed.  I  will  now  have  you  seized  up  with  as 
little  remorse  as  I  would  hang  or  shoot  a  mad 

6  S 


124  JACK   ASHORE. 

dog.     Are  we  idiots  to  believe  all  this  rigmarole 
story  ?** 

*'  True,  upon  my  salvation  l^  said  Jack, 
gulping  down  an  hysterical  sob  of  emotion,  not 
of  fear  at  the  flogging,  but  of  hurt  pride  at 
being  thought  base  enough  to  lie. 

<^  Impudent  liar  !**  said  Firebrass,  now  stamp- 
ing with   rage ;    **  that  you  were  dreadfully, 
beastly,  despicably  drunk,  is  most  certain;  but 
it  is  not  the  less  certain  that  this  state  of  in- 
toxication was  produced  after  you  assisted  at 
the  removal  of  the  figure-head,  and  not  before. 
At  two  o*clock,  when  the  ship's  corporal  went 
his  rounds,  you  were  seen  sleeping  decently, 
and  cleanly,  under  the  gun  at  which  you  mess, 
and  no  more  drunk  than  you  had  a  right  to  be; 
but,  when  you  were  dragged  out  from  thence 
in  the  morning,  you  had  been  swallowing  raw 
rum   until  you  wallowed  in  it,    like  a  filthy 
sow.     The;  last  fit  of  drunkenness  took  place 
after  the  figure-head  was  gone,  and  I  have  but 
very  little  doubt  but  that  the  beastly  rum  was 
the  price  of  your  mutinous  and  disgraceful  con- 
duct,** 


JACK   A8HORK.  125 

To  all  this  Jack  could  only  clasp  bis  hands, 
and  appeal  to  bis  God  that  he  was  innocent  of 
all  such  intention  as  that  with  which  the  cap- 
tain charged  him.  He  would  plead  guilty 
only  to  the  drunkenness ;  and  persisted,  as  he 
could  not  do  otherwise,  that  he  was  totally  un- 
conscious,  if  he  really  had  been  in  the  head,  of 
all  that  passed,  so  as  to  give  any  account,  other 
than  that  offered  to  his  drunken  impressions  of 
what  occurred. 

Captain  Firebrass,  being  aware  that  he  was 
labouring  dreadfully  under  his  infirmity  of 
pasdon,  would  not  flog  Truepenny  on  that  day, 
but  ordered  him  into  irons,  intimating  that  on 
the  following  noon  he  should  receive  a  very 
severe  punishment,  which  would  probably  be 
followed  by  disrating  him  as  a  petty  officer,  and 
that  be  should  no  more  do  duty  as  second  cap- 
tain of  the  forecastle.  *'  And  hark  ye  I  Mr. 
Abominable  Liar  !**  said  the  enraged  Firebrass ; 
**  I  coidd  almost  cut  my  own  throat  when  I 
think  that  such  a  scoundrel  as  you  should  have 
saved  my  life.  But,  d — ^n  you.  111  be  just — I 
will  not  alter  my  good  intentions  towards  you 


126  JACK   A8H0EB. 

as  a  man — I  will  not  alter  niy  will.  You  have 
told  me  a  base  lie — ^you  have  tried  to  laugh 
at  me  in  my  very  face-^you  have  conspired 
with  my  enemies  to  insult  me.  O  John  Troe^ 
penny,  you  have  lost  your  best  friend ;  I  shall 
never  respect  you  more.*^ 

**  You  may  flc^  me  now,  captain/*  said  poor 
Jack,  the  tears  fast  rolling  down  his  cheeks ; 
**  it  is  of  no  consequence  now.  I  only  hope 
that  I  shall  die  under  the  lash.  You  have 
wronged  me  dreadfully — ^never,  never,  never, 
will  I  again  receive  kindness  at  your  hands. 
And  yet  I  do  think  that  some  day  you  11  be 
sorry  for  this." 

**  Take  him  away !  put  him  in  irons !" 
shouted  the  captain. 

'*  You  have  destroyed  a  good  man,  Captain 
Firebrass.  May  Grod  forgive  you !  I  have 
spoken  nothing  but  the  truth.'' 

With  sullen  apathy  Jack  was  led  by  the 
ship's  corporals,  and  put  in  irons  undo*  the 
half-deck.  Strict  orders  were  given  to  the 
sentry  not  to  allow  any  one  to  converse  with 
him,  and  no  one  was  permitted  to  approach 


JACK   ASUOBB.  127 

him,  excepting  one  of  bis  messmates  at  the  usual 
times,  in  order  to  bring  bim  his  rations— or,  as 
the  seamen  call  it,  bis  whack  of  prog  and  no 
grog,  for  that  was  stopped. 

Captain  Firebrass  paced  tbe  starboard  side 
of  the  quarter-deck  for  some  time,  in  order  that 
the  turbulence  of  bis  rage  might  a  little  sub* 
side ;  for  be  was  extremely  mortified  as  well  as 
enraged  at  not  being  able  to  trace  to  Lord 
Gambroon  the  concoction  of  the  insult  that  he 
felt  persuaded  he  had  put  upon  him.  He 
wu  now  fully  convinced  that  Jack  had  been 
bribed  into  being  a  confederate  with  his  lord- 
ship^s  emissaries^  and  then  he  could  have  d^ 
voured  Jack  in  his  rage.  Afterwards,  the  possi- 
bility that  Jack  was  honest  would  occur  to 
him,  and  then  he  was  ready  to  devour  himself. 
In  this  state  of  perturbation  tlie  captain  of 
marines  walked  over  to  him,  and,  addressing 
him  very  respectfully,  begged  leave  to  say  a 
few  words  to  him. 

**'  Short,  short — be  short.  Captain  Curtois,*' 
said  the  skipper,  impatiently. 

*'  In  short,  then,  I  think  that  John  True- 


1S!8  JACK   A8HORR. 

penny  has  told  you  the  truth,  and  that  every- 
thing took  place  according  to  bis  impressions, 
in  the  way  he  described,  though  nothing  was 
really  as  he  fancied  he  saw  it." 

^'  In  short.  Captain  Curtois^  you  wish  to 
make  it  out  that  I  am  a  tyrannical  rascal,  and 
that  the  fellow  in  irons  is  an  innocent  martyr/' 

**  I  would  have  no  such  harsh  and  disrespect- 
ful construction  put  upon  my  words,**  said  the 
captain  of  the  marines,  no  way  disconcerted; 
^^  but  if  you  would  have  the  kindness  and 
the  patience  to  listen  to  something  that  hap- 
pened to  me,  not  very  dissimilar  in  its  nature 
from  the  mess  that  this  man  has  got  into,  when 
I  was  partially  intoxicated,  it  would  perhaps 
make  you  pause  before  you  ultimately  con- 
demned this  poor  fellow.*' 

'^  Is  it  a  long  story.  Captain  Curtois  ?^' 

"  Why,  sir,  it  is,  to  be  well  understood, 
something  lengthy ;  but  I  would  not  mind  being 
thought  prosy,  if  I  could  serve  a  fellow-creature 
in  trouble.** 

**  That  is  very  handsomely  said,  sir.  Now, 
as  I  don*t  think  your  tale  will  go  down  easily 


JACK   ASHORE.  129 

with  me,  you  shall  try  my  claret  to  help  it ; 
and  as  I  know  that  the  moral  will  be 
very  unpalatable,  at  least  to  me,  we  will  have 
it  to-day,  with  our  fruit  and  crackers,  after 
dinner.  So  I  shall  expect  you  at  six  bells ;  but, 
Captain  Curtois,  it  must  be  a  strong  and  a 
long  yam,  and  spun  in  a  very  seamanlike  man- 
ner, that  will  convince  me  that  this  John  True- 
penny was  not  art  and  part — as  the  lawyers  say 
— damn  them ! — ^in  aiding  and  abetting  the 
saints — damn  them  f — in  stealing  my  head. 
Damn  everything  an  inch  and  a  half  high  ! — So, 
sir,  I^  wish  you  farewell  till  dinner-time." 


G  5 


ISO  JACK  ASaOBK. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

One  foot  on  Mt,  tnd  one  on  ahor»-^onsUat  noror— M neb 
about  lore  and  law ;  tbe  law  yiewed  loWnglj,  and  the  love 
lawfully— Good  adrioe  ill  received,  and  a  veiy  intereiting 
conyertation  upon  matters  matrimonial. 

In  order  to  bring  forward  the  two  divisions  of 
our  narrative  pari  ptisauy  we  must  still  skip 
alternately  from  the  sea  to  the  shore ;  and,  just 
now,  our  business  lies  with  Sir  Edward.  We 
think  that  we  have  made  our  friends  aware  that 
he  was,  though  a  brilliant,  by  no  means  a  per- 
fect character ;  but  he  was  still  so  much  the 
nearer  to  it,  as  be  never  made  any  pretensions 
to  perfection.  He  was  exceedingly  worried  at 
the  apparent  danger  that  threatened  his  for- 
tunes; for,  upon  retaining  possession  of  his 
estates,  everything  that  was  dear  to  him,  all 


JACK  ASHORK.  131 

that  be  valued  io  life,  depended.  It  is  certainly 
a  sublime  spectadet  that  of  a  great  and  good 
man  struggling  heroicallj  against  adverse  for- 
tune. He  fully  acknowledged  all  the  beauty 
of  it,  but  he  would  much  rather  have  contem- 
plated the  part  than  have  performed  it 

As  he  sprang  into  his  cabriolet  after  his 
painful  interview  with  Mr.  Scrivener,  his  first 
impulse  was  to  proceed  to  Miss  Truepenny, 
and  pour  out  all  his  troubles  and  anxieties  be- 
fore her;  but  reflection  soon  convinced  him 
that  this  would  be  a  most  selfish  proceeding. 
He  loved  her  ardently,  and  admired  her  ex- 
ceedingly ;  and  this  admiration,  as  she  slowly 
unveiled  to  his  mind  all  her  excellence^  was 
gradually  increasing.  But,  as  yet,  he  knew  her 
not.  She  had  always  appeared  to  him  so  placid 
and  so  quiet,  that  he  never  gave  her  credit  for 
high  feeling  or  great  resolve.  Though  he  knew 
her  to  be  intrinsically  good,  he  deemed  her  not 
to  be  a  person  who  would  be  capable  of  making 
a  great  sacrifice ;  yet  he  believed  her  to  be  so 
amiable  that  she  would  attempt  it,  and  sink 
under  it.    As  yet,  she  had  not  been  accustomed 


132  JACK    ASHORE. 

to  receive  from  bim  the  direction  of  her  con- 
duct :  and  even  if  she  were  inclined  to  do  so, 
how  would  he  act  P  There  lay  the  bitterness  of 
thought. 

As  these  cogitations  were  swaying  his  mind, 
now  to  one  course  of  action,  now  to  another 
diametrically  opposite,  he  much  surprised  his 
servant  by  driving  up  all  manner  of  possible 
streets,  and  sometimes  into  alleys  that  could 
not  boast  of  thoroughfares.  At  length  he  be- 
came totally  unconscious  of  his  whereabouts, 
and  upon  applying  to  his  tiger  for  information, 
be  also  affected  not  to  know ;  so  Sir  Edward 
got  into  the  6rst  hackney-coach  that  offered 
itself,  and  telling  the  lad  to  find  his  way  home 
with  the  cabriolet  in  the  best  manner  he  could, 
ordered  himself  to  be  driven  to  Clement's 
Inn. 

London  is  certainly  the  most  convenient  place 
in  the  world  to  get  into  every  possibility  of 
scrape.  The  opportunities  that  it  offers  for 
ruin  are  as  innumerable  as  the  temptations  to 
them  lire  inexhaustible.  But  there  is  this  re- 
deeming point  in  its  favour,  that  if  a  remedy 


JACK   A8HOKE.  133 

for  an  evil,  or  an  alleviation  to  a  misfortune 
exist,  the  Leviathan  city  can  produce  it.  In 
it,  the  greatest  and  rarest  curiosities  may  be 
found.  We  do  not  wish  to  stretch  the  readei^s 
fiuth  beyond  the  bounds  of  credulity ;  but  we 
do  assure  him,  that  in  London  the  singular 
phenomenon  may  be  discovered  of  at  least  two* 
or  very  probably  three,  hcnest  lawyers. 

We  beg  to  be  understood  as  not  using  this 
as  a  oommon*place  sarcasm.  We  mean  the 
word  honest  to  be  understood  thoroughly  in  the 
moral  and  christian  sense.  Till  some  great 
reformation  takes  place  in  society,  if  a  lawyer 
perform  all  that  his  profession  and  connexion 
requires  of  him,  he  cannot  be  morally,  though 
he  be  very  legally,  an  honest  man.  The  fault 
is  not  his,  but  the  constitution  of  the  elements 
of  the  refinement  in  which  he  existSi  If  lawyers 
were  strictly  honest,  and  rigidly  refused  to  lend 
themselves  to  anything  that  swerved  in  the 
least  from  right,  it  is  evident  that  there  could 
be  no  litigation  ;  and  if  there  were  not  litiga* 
tioo,  there  could  be  no  need  of  lawyers,  except- 
ing to  act  as  stewards  and  trustees. 


184  JACK  ABHORS* 

We  will  not  further  pursue  this  iDvidioua 
subject,  but  merely  repeat  that  there  are  two  or 
three  thoroughly  honest  lawyers  in  London — 
men  whom  no  consideration  could  induce  to 
defend  a  bad  cause,  or  to  uphold  a  good  one  by 
bad  means.  Of  course,  these  are  the  outcasts 
and  the  pariahs  of  the  profession.  They  are 
not  smiled  upon  by  counsel,  nor  are  their  names 
strongly  accentuated  by  the  judges  as  respect* 
able ;  they  come  not  to  their  offices  in  phaetons, 
they  have  no  suburban  villa,  nor  have  they 
lady-like  wives  and  insolent  o£Pspring  residing 
in  squares  at  the  west  end. 

But  why  need  we  occupy  so  much  time 
about  a  few  miserables,  that  have  neither 
the  spirit  to  get  rich  like  their  brethren,  nor 
to  commit  suicide  in  order  to  remove  oppro* 
brium  from  an  honourable  profession  P  We 
have  only  to  do  with  one  of  them,  on  whom 
Sir  Edward  Fortintower  happened  one  day  to 
stumble  by  a  strange  accident.  They  fell  into 
friendship  on  the  spot,  and  the  sentiment 
remained  in  full  force  for  ever  after. 

Josiah  Singleheart  occupied  the  first  floor,  the 


JACK  A8H0AS.  185 

attics,  and  the  kitchen,  at  a  cheeBemoDgei^s  in 
6ray*8-iDn  Lane.  The  first  floor  front  was  his 
office  in  the  daytime^  and  his  drawing-room 
after  the  hoars  of  business;  it  answered  the 
double  purpose  extremely  welL  We  shall  not 
expose  the  other  arrangements  of  his  humUe 
eocmomy.  We  shall  merely  state,  that  he  was 
very  happy  in  an  amiable  and  very  pretty  wife, 
and  two  young  daughters.  The  few  who  knew, 
loved  him ;  and  as  he  never  was  known  to  per^ 
mit  a  client  of  his  to  bring  an  action,  and  that 
he  hardly  ever  suffered  him  to  defend  one,  his 
business  in  the  courts  was  all  but  nominaL 
His  principal  sources  of  emolument  consisted 
in  being  the  town  agent  for  gentlemen  residing 
in  the  country,  in  adjusting  diflbrences,  and 
committing  as  many  legal  suicides  as  he  could, 
by  preventing  people  from  going  to  law. 

The  meeting  between  Sir  Edward  Fortin^ 
tower  and  Mr.  Singleheart  was  like  the  min- 
gling of  two  beams  of  sunshine.  After  all  the 
most  friendly  inquiries  had  been  made  and 
answered,  the  cheerfulness  gradually  disap- 
peared from  Sir  Edward's  countenance,  and  his 


186  JACK  ASHORE. 

friend  was  not  slow  in  remarking  it  An  unre- 
stricted communication  of  all  his  fears  was  soon 
made  by  Sir  Edward,  and,  as  he  proceeded,  it 
was  very  easy  to  discern,  by  the  countenance  of 
his  friend,  what  that  astute  lawyer  thought  of 
his  situation. 

When  the  conference  was  ended,  Mr.  Single- 
heart  bade  Edward  hope  nothing,  and  to  fear 
for  everything.  He  advised  him,  as  an  ho- 
nourable  man,  himself  to  set  about  inquiring  if 
any  person  better  entitled  to  his  fortune  were 
in  existence,  and  if  such  were  the  case,  to  resign 
it  without  a  struggle. 

**  You  will  then,  my  young  friend,^  he  con- 
tinued, ^*  be  thrown  on  your  own  resources, 
and  they  are  neither  few  nor  mean.  You  have 
now  an  opportunity  of  proving  yourself  intrin- 
sically great ;  and  though  it  is  hardly  probable 
that  you  will  ever  acquire  so  much  wealth  as 
you  must  refdgn,  more  than  sufficient  for  any 
laudable  ambition  I  am  sure  you  may  easily 
obtain.  With  your  permission,  I  will  imme- 
diately  and  kindly  set  about  the  inquiry  that 
is  to  disinherit  you,  and  thus  we  shall  fprestal 


JACK   A8H0EE.  137 

Mr.  Scrivener,  deprive  him  of  lome  thousands 
of  pounds  of  nefarious  costs,  and  prove  you  to 
the  wcHld,  what  I  have  always  known  you  to 
be^  a  right-hearted  and  an  honest  man.*^ 

Sir  Edward  smiled  faintly  at  this  bold  and 
eager  compliment,  and  his  heart  acknowledged 
it  with  a  cold  shiver. 

'*  If,^  observed  Singleheart,  *^  you  receive  a 
letter  from  roe,  telling  you  to  prepare  for  the 
worst,  of  course  you  will  immediately  reduce 
your  establishment,  advertise  for  sale  all  pro- 
perty strictly  your  own,  such  as  horses,  car- 
riages, household  furniture,  and  go  immediately 
into  lodgings.  You  will  feel  a  real  glow  of 
virtuous  satisfaction  at  making  these  sacrifices.*' 

His  friend  gave  a  very  mournful  assent. 

*'  As  to  your  accepting  the  Chiltem  Hun- 
dreds^ I  would  hardly  advise  that,  although  it 
ought  seriously  to  be  thought  of;  but  I  rather 
think,  for  your  country's  sake,  that  you  should 
keep  your  seat  till  a  dissolution,  and  merely 
for  this  reason — I  do  not  think  that  it  could  be 
supplied  with  a  person  of  more  talents— »with 
an  honester  one  I  know  that  it  could  not.    So 


138  JACK    ABHOAB. 

I  incline  to  permit  you  to  retain  your  seat.** 
(The  good  man  bad  already  begtm  to  patronize.) 
— '<  And  while  you  retain  your  seat,  you  may 
retain  your  title  also.  But  what  you'll  do 
when  you  are  no  longer  an  M.  P.,  the  Lord 
only,  in  his  goodness,  knows.  Then  you  must 
lay  down  your  title  of  course ;  a  baronet,  with 
five  hundred  a  year  only,  is  ridiculous.  Per- 
haps your  fortunate  cousin  might  be  prevailed 
upon  to  induct  you  into  one  of  the  family 
livings ;  or,  if  now  you  had  qualified  yourself 
for  a  parson,  you  might  present  yourself,— finr 
I  believe  the  terms  of  your  grandfather^s  will 
expressly  secure  you  from  all  annoyance  as  re- 
gards arrears,  restorations,  &c.  What  do  you 
think  of  going  into  holy  orders  ?" 

'*  I  have  no  call,^  said  the  comforted  one,  in 
the  most  uncomfortable  tone  imaginable 

"  Well,  what  say  you  to  the  law  ?  you  are  yet 
very  young.  I  am  most  anxious  to  give  you 
consolation.  I'll  take  you  as  my  articled  clerk, 
without  a  premium.  Now  that's  an  ofier  not  to 
be  too  readily  slighted." 

"  It  is  not  indeed ; — ^your  articled  clerk  ?" 


JACK  A8HOEK.  189 

'<  Exactly.  Not  that  I  think  youll  succeed 
in  the  law  any  more  than  I  have  done,  but  it 
will  well  fit  you  for  other  things ;  besides,  when 
you  are  dispossessed,  you  may  get  the  steward* 
sbipc^  what  are  now  your  own  estates ;  the  man 
who  supplants  you  can  hardly  refuse  you  that, 
if  you  donH  litigate.^ 

^  A  very  reviving  prospect,**  said  Sir  Ed- 
ward* '^  But  what  becomes  of  yourself,  if  I 
dii^ilace  you  in  this  stewardship,  which  you 
have  filled  for  me  with  so  much  honesty  and 
sMlity?'' 

^  Oh,  never  mind  me  I  I  have  long  been  used 
to  battle  with  the  world.  My  articled  derk,  and 
a  candidate  for  the  stewardship  I  Good  !  I  see 
no  great  cause  to^  depression  of  spirits.  So  go 
home,  my  poor  young  friend,  and  make  yourself 
very  happy." 

**  Well,  Josiah,"  said  Sir  Edward,  smiling, 
'*  I  believe  you  to  be  the  honestest  man  living, 
and  a  very  clever  one  withal ;  but  for  a  com* 
forter — wdl,  well,  it  is  a  great  mercy  that  you 
are  not  the  ordinary  of  Newgate.     Now  set 


140  JACK  ASHORE. 

about  it  with  all  the  activity  you  can  boast  of, 
to  oust  me  from  my  estates." 

*'  I  want  no  spur^  Sir  Edward,  to  urge  me 
on  to  a  good  deed.*' 

<*  Exactly,  I  know  it ;  and  when  I  am  your 
articled  clerk ** 

**  We  will  be  as  merry  and  as  happy^  as — 

*«As?'* 

*^  As  are  those  men  who  are  honestly  and  in* 
dustriously  acquiring  wealth  are  more  happy 
than  they  who  are  spending  it  foolishly,  or 
hoarding  it  avariciously  7* 

They  paused,  and  widely  different  were  the 
reflections  of  the  two  friends.  The  honest 
attorney  was  feasting  his  imagination  with  what 
a  beautiful  picture  of  heroism  and  grandeur 
Sir  Edward  would  exhibit  as  his  articled  clerk ; 
whilst  the  latter  was  shuddering  at  the  prospect 
before  him,  and  skulking  along  the  streets  with 
his  hat  over  his  eyes  to  avoid  being  recognised, 
resolving  to  do  the  right,  yet  agonizingly  con- 
scious of  the  bitterness  of  the  sacrifice. 

At  this  very  time.  Miss  Scrivener,  with  her 


JACK  ASUOBB.  141 

plump,  Hebe-like,  yet  simple  countenance,  now 
mantling  with  the  smile  of  mere  physical  beauty, 
and  now  with  a  most  envious  look  of  self- 
awakened  intelligence,  was  listening  to  the  mild 
Toice  and  gentle  protestationa  of  Miss  True- 
penny,  as  she  was  now  urging  forward  some 
delicate  labour  of  elegant  ingenuity  for  the 
wasting  of  time. 

Of  the  two  ladies,  at  the  first  view,  the 
preference  of  beauty  would  be  given  decidedly 
to  Miss  Scrivener*  Her  complexion  was  more 
fair,  her  colour  more  brilliant,  the  contour 
of  her  face  more  rounded ;  and  nothing  could 
surpass  the  soft  richness  of  her  flaxen  hair^ 
the  profusion  of  which  even  art  had  failed 
to  twist  into  method,  and  which  was  thus  the 
more  beautiful,  as  it  was  the  more  rebellious. 
Her  unfashionable  earnestness,  her  too  ready 
Uush,  her  too  often  causeless  smile,  and  her 
sudden  pout,  mingled  up  with  what  she  sup- 
posed to  be  the  exclusive  refinement  of  manners^ 
gave  to  this  young  lady — ^to  those  who  did  not 
require  much  elevation  of  mind  or  acuteness 
of  intellect — a  charm  that  was  really  bewitching. 


142  JACK   AaHOEE. 

Their  conversation  proceeded  nearly  in  the 
following  strain,«-whilst  Miss  Morrison  sat 
grandly»  and  knowing  that  she  made  a  superb 
picture  whilst  so  sitting,  at  a  distance,  so  as  not 
to  seem  to  be  one  of  the  party,  yet  carefully  col- 
lecting and  treasuring  up  every  word  that  fell 
from  either  lady— - 

"  Well,  Ann  dear,**  said  Miss  Scrivener, 
bridling  up,  **  sympathies  are  bom  in  heaven,  to 
be  made  use  of  on  earthy  and,  as  my  Molly 
says — • 

**  Her  Molly  T'  said  Miss  Morrison,  from 
her  retreat,  in  a  subdued  yet  distinct  voice, 
whilst  she  remained  apparently  inanimate  as  a 
statue. 

^Yes,  madam,  my  Molly — my  femme  de 
chawib^  madam,  what  papa  has  allowed  me  all 
to  myself  these  two  years,  wages  no  object,  Ann 
dear ; — ^but  what  was  I  saying  ?** 

<<  That  sympathies  were  too  often  bom  in 
heaven  but  to  perish  on  earth.'* 

**  Did  I  say  just  so  ?  but  that's  not  exactly 
what  I  mean ; — ^as  Molly  says,  Idssing  goes  by 
favour^  and  intelligent  minds,  therefore,  have 


JACK  A8HOEK.  148 

highly  discriminating  facoltieB.     You  lee  that, 
Ann  dear?* 

"  Not  exactly."* 

There  now,"  said  the  lady,  pouting; 
whenever  I  talk  my  best,  people  won't 
understand  me ;  and  when  I  talk  Tulgar,  they 
laugh  at  me.  All  I  know  is  this — I  mean  to 
say  that  the  course  of  true  love  never  does  run 
smooth  ;  and  that's  no  quotation,  I'm  sure  for 
I  would  not  have  you  think,  Ann  dear,  that  I  am 
so  unfashionable  as  to  deal  in  such  silly 
inventions.*' 

«<  Well,  what  is  a  quotation  ?^ 

**  As  if  I  didn't  know  !  But  I  am  always 
vexed  when  people  ask  questions.**  And  then  she 
thrust  her  little  foot  forward  pettishly,  display- 
ing a  very  finely-turned  ankle,  that  would  have 
ensured  a  fortune  upon  the  stage.  *'  For  what 
are  questions,  Ann  dear^  but  indications  of 
curiosity,  or  of  the  want  of  information,  too 
often  unsatisfactory  to  answer,  and  puzzling 
when  answered.** 

'*  Puzxling  to  answer,  and  unsatisfactory 
when  answered  1" 


144  JACK  ASHORE. 

<*  Well,  well,  don^t  take  one  up  so — it's  all 
one,  isnH  it?  Ask  me  no  questions,  and  Til 
tell  you  no  stories.  But  what  will  you  do,  now 
Sir  Edward  is  ruined  ?'' 

At  this  abrupt  interrogatory,  Miss  Morrison, 
to  use  an  expression  that  would  have  been  per- 
fectly intelligible  to  Miss  Scrivener,  **  pricked 
up  her  ears,*^  but  did  it  in  a  perfectly  graceful 
and  lady-like  manner ;  whilst  Miss  Truepenny, 
despite  of  her  habitual  self-command,  for  a 
moment  turned  absolutely  pale,  whilst  she  thus 
replied  :  ^'  Questions  !  indeed,  Miss  Scrivener, 
you  ask  me  a  tremendous  one ;  but  I  am  happy 
that  I  have  no  occasion  to  answer  it ;  for  ruined 
I  believe  him  not  to  be*^ 

<^  But  he  is  though,  for  it  has  been  in  the 
papers  these  three  weeks.** 

*«  God  forbid  r 

^*  But  it's  too  late,^  said  Miss  Scrivener,  with 
childish  irritability.  ^*  And  papa  says  it's  all 
true,  and  parental  authority  must  always  be 
sacred  to  filial  contumeliosity.  I  have  been 
taught  my  duty,  to  honour  my  father  and  my 
mother,  and  all  that — which  you  will  find  in  the 


JACK   A8HOEE.  145 

catechism,  and  when  papa  says  that  Sir  Edward 
Fortintower  is  a  titled  beggar,  I  am  too  good  a 
Christiao  not  to  believe  it/' 

^  And  wish  it  P*^  said  Miss  Morrison  from 
her  retreat 

^*  Oh  lud  no !  Now  I  say,  God  forbid  I 
Why,  I  love  the  tip  of  his  little  finger  better — 
hum ; — I  mean,  that,  in  confiding  hearts,  a  reci- 
procity of  affection  circumstances  may  blight, 
but  time  cannot — ^lit — litter — litigate— no,  that's 
papa's  word — Ann,  dear,  what  is  it  that  time 
cannot  do  when  circumstances  may  blight  P^ 

**  Indeed  I  do  not  know,  unless  you  mean 
obliterate." 

**  Well,  and  that  is  the  word  after  all  I  I 
am  sure  I  ought  to  know  it ;  for  it  is  one  upon 
which  my  master  of  elocution  insists  a  great 
deal." 

^*  Her  master  of  elocution  l^  echoed  the  dig^ 
nified  and  matured  beauty  who  was  still  ad- 
dressed  as  Miss  Morrison. 

•*  And  why  not  ?"*'  replied  Miss  Scrivener, 
lowering  her  voice.  "  Your  friend,  or  your 
governess — ^* 

VOL.  I.  H 


146  JACK    ASHOBE. 

^^  My  friendy  Miss  Scrivener,"  said  Miss 
Truepenny. 

*•  Well,  then,  your  friend  ices  me  all  over  with 
her  stately  look  and  maid-of-honour  curtseys.  I 
cannot  come  and  have  a  little  comfortable  confab 
over  the  ruin  of  your  sweetheart  and  mine — ** 

**  Yours — ^yours !  Miss  Scrivener,  did  you 
say  yours?** 

*^  To  be  sure  I  did,  and  why  not?  Sir  Edward 
came  a  courting  to  me,  long  before  the  grand 
match  that  is  to  bring  into  life  again  the  Fortin* 
tower  peerage,  and  which  will  never  take  place, 
was  ever  thought  of." 

'^  Sir  Edward  Fortintower  came  a  courting  to 
you  ?•' 

*^  Yes,  miss ;  but  perhaps  the  words  are  not 
fashionable  enough.  He  paid  me  those  delicate 
attentions  which  are  not  so  decided  as  they 
ought  to  be,  nor  yet  so  vague  as  not  to  be 
imderstood.  Father  said  he  had  gone  so  far 
that  it  was  shabby  in  him  to  back  out.** 

"  Pray,  Miss  Scrivener,  may  I  beg  of  you  to 
tell  me  how  far  he  did  go  ? — not,  of  course,  if 
it  should  give  you  any  pain." 


JACK   ASHOEK.  147 

**  Oh,  he  went  very  far  indeed ;  and  as  to  the 
pain,  why  the  mind  that  cannot  endure  afflic- 
tion, and  smile  at  agony  for  a  Iiieloved  object,  is 
— ^is — but  we  two  understand  all  that ;  but  Sir 
Edward  went  very  far  indeed — so  far  that  I  am 
ashamed  to  tell  you — so  far  as  to  take  innocent 
liberties  with  me — ^there  now  T 

At  this  point  of  the  conversation  there  was 
a  noise  of  the  rustling  of  much  silk  ;  it  was 
merely  Miss  Morrison  drawing  herself  up  to  a 
proper  and  dignified  height 

^^  This  is  extremely  wonderful.  Miss  Scri- 
vener ;  I  hardly  know  what  to  say  to  you,  or  to 
understand  how  any  gentleman  can  take  any 
liberties  with  an  unmarried  lady,  and  they 
should  be  pronounced  to  be  innocent/' 

**  I  have  several  good  long  sentences  about 
that,  which  would  prove  your  ignorance,  Ann 
dear ;   and  there  is  one  in  particular  beginning, 

*  The   kiss  that  is  consecrated  by  a  virtuous 
affection  comes  like  the  blest  dews  of  heaven  f 
but,  ah  !  I  forget  the  rest ; — ^but  it  never  came 
to  kissing  between  Sir  Edward  and  me/  " 
*^  That  I  could  have  almost  answered  for," 

h2 


148  JACK   A8H0R£« 

said  Miss  Truepenny,  brightening  up,  and 
looking  radiant  through  her  air  of  assumed 
indifference. 

**  Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast,  miss,  as  the  old 
woman  siud  to  the  pigs ;  I  mean,  begging  your 
pardon,  that  to  anticipate  in  conversation  i 
neither  safe  to  oneself,  nor  polite  to  the  speaker." 
^^  I  am  corrected,  Miss  Scrivener.  Pray  taKe 
your  own  time,  and  proceed.'^ 

^'  Though  it  never  came  to  kissing,  it  was 
much  worse  than  that,  and  not  half,  or  a  quar- 
ter, or  half  a  quarter  so  pleasant.  What  do 
you  think,  Ann  dear  ?"'  And  at  length  venturing 
a  look  at  the  stately  Miss  Morrison — *'  What  do 
you  think,  madam  P — ^he  actually  chucked  me 
under  the  chin — there  now — there!" 

'*  That  was  a  very  great  liberty  indeed." 
**  But  what  followed  was  much  worse*  Papa 
did  not  think  so  much  of  chucking  under  the 
chin  as  I  did,  but  he  valued  the  words  more ; 
he  said  they  would  have  weight  in  a  court  of 
justice — verba  scripta — that  is,  words  spoken, 
Miss  Truepenny,  as  distinguished  from  words 
written.  After  he  chucked  me  under  the  chin,  he 


JACK   ASHORE.  149 

called  me  a  pretty  dmpletoD — words  of  endear- 
ment, as  papa  says,  and  certainly  implying 
intentions  from  which  no  honourable  man  ought 
to  swerve." 
"  It  was  wrong  on  the  part  of  Sir  Edward.^' 
At  this  ill-considered  remark,  the  spoilt 
beauty  became  very  angry,  and  was  continuing 
to  insist,  in  a  very  impassioned  strain,  and  much 
to  the  discomposure  of  Miss  Morrison,  that  there 
was  no  wrong  in  it,-~when  the  subject  of  dis- 
pute was  announced,  and  immediately  after- 
wards made  his  appearance. 


150  JACK    ASHORE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Interruptions — A  lon^  leuon  on  magnanimity— A  race  be- 
tween worldlj  interest  and  high  principle ;  for  once  high 
principle  wins ;  upon  which  ensue  high  resolres,  and,  sin- 
gularly enough,  they  are  acted  up  to— Such  things  some- 
times  happen  in  noyels. 

Haj)  Sir  Edward  gloried  in  causing  a  sensation 
by  his  sudden  entrance,  he  would  have  been 
highly  gratified.  In  the  first  place,  Miss 
Morrison  put  by  her  frivolous  occupation  of 
stringing  glass  beads,  and  opened  a  respectably 
sized  volume,  that  by  its  appearance  no  one 
could  possibly  take  for  a  novel,  and  was  soon 
intensely  occupied  in  taking  notes.  The  affi- 
anced lady  received  him  with  an  ill-acted 
equanimity,  and  the  lady  who  wished,  him  her 
affianced  did    not    affect    equanimity   at    all. 


JACK   ASHOBE.  151 

Poor  Miss  Scrivener  blushed  and  laughed,  and 
almost  cried,  and  all  at  the  wrong  times,  and 
talked  incessantly,  so  that  it  was  scarcely  pos- 
sihle  for  the  lovers  to  interchange  a  word* 
She  was  most  bountiful  in  the  figure  of  speech 
inuendo,  and  gave  by  its  latitude  all  present 
fully  to  understand  that  she  would  take  Sir 
Edward  without  a  farthing,  and  that  she  was 
not  very  much  grieved  that  she  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  thus  proving  the  disinterestedness  of 
her  attachment 

Notwithstanding  her  agitation,  she  had  suffi- 
dent  sense  to  perceive  that  her  presence  threw 
a  restraint  on  all  parties  present ;  so^  requesting 
her  carriage  might  draw  up,  she  departed  with 
so  much  confusion  of  manner,  that  she  trod 
upon  Miss  Morrison^s  spaniel,  overturned  a 
small  or-molu  table  of  follies,  and  finally  made 
her  exit  with  a  boisterous  laugh,  in  order  that 
she  might  cry  alone  in  her  carriage  as  if  her 
little  heart  were  breaking. 

After  the  servants  had  restored  order,  and 
Miss  Morrison  had  soothed  the  yelping  spaniel 
into  silent  suUenness,    she  wrote  on  a  slip  of 


152  JACK  ASHORE. 

paper,  *^  We  cut  Miss  Scrivener,'*  and  folding 
it  up»  she  handed  it  with  a  sagared  smile  to 
Miss  Truepenny.  She  then  appeared  to  re> 
«unie  her  studies ;  thus  leaving  the  two  lovers 
to  a  tite^tite,  of  which  they  hardly  knew  how 
to  avail  themselves. 

However,  Sir  Edward  soon  felt  much  of  that 
composure  which  at  first  he  only  affected. 
There  is  something  soothing  to  our  self-love 
to  boast  of  our  misfortunes,  and  to  be  eloquent 
upon  our  own  miseries,  when  we  have  no 
great  fault  with  which  to  reproach  ourselves 
^-and  even  when  we  have.  First  with  a  falter- 
ing, then  with  a  firm  voice,  he  recounted  aU  the 
numerous  probabilities  that  were  arrayed  against 
him — ^made  his  tortured  listener  fully  under- 
stand the  nature  of  the  will,  and  the  affinity  of 
the  new  claimant  to  both  of  them. 

Poor  Ann  Truepenny,  turning  her  face  studi- 
ously from  Miss  Morrison  during  this  narration, 
wept  quietly,  yet  unceasingly  and  bitterly. 
Three  times  did  her  chaperone  rise  and  offer  her 
arm  to  lead  her  away,  and  so  many  times  did 
Ann  refuse  the  assistance  with  a  petulance  of 


JACK  A8HOEE. 

manner  neyer  before  observed  in  her.  But  yet 
she  spoke  not,  nor  took  the  handkerchief  from 
her  face  that  concealed  her  emotion ;  but 
eirery  time  that  Sir  Edward  asked  her  if  he 
should  proceed,  she  gently  bowed  to  him  an 


When  he  had  told  all — ^and  we  must  do  bim 
the  credit  to  say  he  tdd  it  quietly  and  without 
exaggeration,  yet  with  that  decent  concern  that 
evinced  how  bitterly  he  felt  the  blow — there 
ensued  a  long  and  a  distressing  pause.  As  yet 
Ann  Truepenny  had  not  spoken — her  agitation 
was  too  great  for  words.  Still  partially  con- 
cealing her  countenance,  she  wrote  on  the  back 
of  a  card  a  request  to  Miss  Morrison  that 
she  and  her  lover  might  be  left  to  themselves. 

The  lady's  answer  was  conveyed  in  writing 
also,  and  was  to  this  effect : — '^  Rally  yourself, 
my  dear,  and  take  care  you  do  not  commit 
yourself,  or  make  any  promise.  Until  you 
have  heard  from  your  grandfather,  you  must 
cut  Sir  Edward  also.  Make  the  interview  as 
short  as  possible** 

The  lovers  are  alone.     The  lady  is    still 

h5 


154  JACK   ASKOBB. 

weeping,  and  her  face  is  Btill  veiled  from  hi& 
In  this  state  of  silence  and  suspense,  innumerable 
are  the  cruel  fancies  that  torture  his  bosom. 
Weeps  she  for  him,  or  for  herself?  He  no 
longer  dares  claim  her  as  his  bride,  yet  it 
would  be  agony  to  him  should  she  resign  him. 
Perhaps  even  now  she  has  come  to  the  stinging 
resolve.  Does  she  weep  for  the  lost  peerage  ?  Are 
hers  the  tears  of  defeated  ambition  ?  And  then 
he  is  insensibly  led  into  that  speculation  so  cruel 
and  common  to  the  miserable,  '*  What  is  man  ?^ 
How  can  he  be  separated  from  his  adjuncts? 
Are  not  his  advantages,  though  acquired  by 
accident,  as  much  a  part  of  him  as  his  temper, 
or  the  members  of  his  body  ?  Then  comes 
over  him  the  painful  consciousness  of  a  changed 
identity.  He  feels  that  he  is  no  longer  the 
gay,  the  gallant,  the  rich,  the  courted  Sir  Ed- 
ward For  tin  tower,  the  meet  bridegroom  of  the 
heiress  of  the  accumulated  wealth  of  genera- 
tions. He  feels  all  this  acutely,  and  humbles 
himself  almost  to  baseness. 

She,  the  idol  of  his  heart,  weeps  on.  At  last  he 
grows  desperate,  and  whilst  a  tear  that  he  deems 


JACK  ASHOBB.  185 

onmanly  qaivers  in  his  eyes,  and  his  h*ps  trem- 
ble with  emotion,  he  falters  forth,  *^  Dear  Ann 
— Ann — Miss  Truepenny— speak  to  me.^ 

Thrice  she  makes  an  effort  to  speak,  but  it 
only  makes  her  sobbing  the  more  convulsive ; 
and  then  she  stretches  forth  her  left  hand,  the 
right  still  concealing  her  countenance  with  the 
handkerchief  now  completely  saturated  with 
her  tears,  and  points  to  Miss  Morrison's  card 
upon  the  tablet 

He  manfully  resists  the  impulse  to  seize  the 
outstretched  hand,  and  act  the  lover  upon  it ; 
but  he  remembers  that  her  next  word  may 
disunite  them  for  ever,  and  instead  of  the  fair 
and  jewelled  hand  that  lies  so  invitingly  before 
him,  he  takes  hold  only  of  the  card  bearing 
the  stem  injunction  that  he  must  be  ctU* 

^  It  is  just,  it  is  most  just,*"  said  Sir  Edward 
mournfully ;  **  and  yet,  Ann,  I  would  not  so 
part  with  you ;  but  to  what  end  should  I  ask 
you  for  speech — ^for  words  of  pity,  of  con« 
dolence,  of  tenderness?  God  of  mercy!  to 
what  end  ?  I  thank  you  for  these  tears.  But 
let    me  not  leave  you  unseen — ^give  me    but 


156  JACK    ASHORE* 

one  look  at  parting,  and  I  will  bear  my  anguish 
as  I  may.** 

She  pronounced  the  word  *^  Edward  I"  and 
slowly  uncovered  her  face;  and  then  turned 
upon  him  a  smile  so  tender,  so  heavenly,  so  ex- 
pressive of  all  love,  all  constancy,  and  all  trust- 
ingness,  that  he  was  firmly  transfixed  with 
astonishment,  and  exclaimed,  clasping  his  hands 
upon  his  bosom,  **  How  beautiful !  my  God, 
how  very,  very  beautiful  V* 

So  great  is  the  triumph  of  expression — of 
that  deep  and  pure  feeling  of  love  that  springs 
from  one  soul,  and  appeals  confidently  to 
another.  But  she  had  not  wept  with  impu- 
nity ;  yet  her  smile  of  love  had  redeemed,  had 
improved,  had  embellished  her  countenance,  in 
spite  of  the  traces  of  her  tears,  into  something 
that  we  conceive  of  the  beauty  of  the  im- 
mortals. 

^^  Now,''  said  he,  passionately,  ^^  I  will  speak, 
and  be  no  more  silenced.  I  considered  your 
tears  as  peace-ofierings  to  my  wounded  vanity 
— to  my  crushed  heart, — as  so  many  hymns 
and  flowers  that  accompany  the  victim  to  de- 


JACK   ASHOEE.  167 

struction ;  I  now  hold  them  as  nobler  pledges^ 
pledges  of  a  love  as  pure  and  as  unalterable  as 
my  own.  Do  I  speak  rightly,  truly,  my  be- 
loved Ann  ?^ 

For  all  answer,  the  smile  grew,  if  possible, 
more  intense.  Edward  was  carried  away  by 
his  rapture,  not  only  from  himself,  but  from  his 
high  principle,  for  he  continued  thus — ^*  I  will 
not  lose  you — by  heavens,  I  will  not!  The 
widies  of  your  ancestors  shall  be  completed. 
You  shall  shine  the  most  beautiful  among  the 
beautiful  peeresses  of  the  realm — ^you  shall 
outshine  all  in  the  display  of  a  magnificence 
that  is  worthy  only  of  you.  If  to  build  tem- 
ples to  your  honour,  if  to  consecrate  groves  to 
your  beauty,  will  make  you  happier,  it  shall  be 
done — and  what  may  not  our  united  wealth 
perform  ?  Do  you  think  that  I  will  resign  all 
this  triumph,  all  this  glory,  to  some  mean,  un- 
educated, base,  upstart  pretender  ?  I  will  liti- 
gate his  claim  whilst  there  is  a  fraction  of  law 
to  be  purchased.  No^  no,  I  cannot  resign  so 
much  perfection — so  much  happiness;  I  will 
employ  the  most  skilful  counsel — the  most  wily 


158  JACK    ASHORE. 

attorneys.    A  dastard  and  a  reptile  should  I 

be  to  permit My  God  !  what  have  I  said  ? 

what  have  I  done?  Why  are  you  thus  break- 
ing your  heart  and  mine?  This  passion  of 
grief  will  kill  you.  Let  me  look  again  upon 
your  beautiful  countenance — again  be  animated, 
reassured  with  your  beautiful  smile.  Judge 
me  not  harshly." 

"  I  dare  not  judge  you  at  all." 

**  If  you  say  so^  you  have  judged  me,  and 
found  me  wanting.'' 

^*  But  a  little  while  ago,  and  it  would  have 
given  me  the  greatest  pain  to  have  released 
you  from  your  engagement ;  and  had  you  re^ 
mained  firm,  nothing  on  earth  would  have 
shaken  my  fidelity  to  you.  I  wept  for  you, 
and  not  for  myself.  You  are,  and  I  have  not 
blamed  you  for  it,  something  too  much  attached 
to  the  glorious  circumstances  of  station  and 
wealth.  I  wept  at  the  misery  that  the  loss  of 
them  must  cause  you ;  and  when  you  told  me 
that  they  were  all  lost,  I  had  already  deter- 
mined to  indemnify  you  by  giving  you  myself 
and  all  my  wealth ;  and  when  you  heroically 


JACK   A8UOKB.  159 

made  known  your  determination  to  abandon 
your  claim  if  one  more  rightful  was  advanced 
against  you,  I  gloried  in  my  resolve.  Edward^ 
if  you  litigate  this  question  against  the  right, 
and  against  your  own  conscience, — I  say  not  to 
you  that  I  cast  you  from  me — I  am  still  your 
bride,  and  as  such  may  I  be  strengthened  to 
alleviate  in  your  bosom  the  inevitable  and 
almost  intolerable  sense  of  guiltiness  that  must 
be  your  lot, — ^but  of  how  much  felicity  will  you 
deprive  me !  My  misery  and  my  happiness 
are  before  you.  I  said  I  dared  not  judge  you 
— I  dared  not — judge  for  yourself.  How  in- 
expressibly blessed  should  I  be  to  meet  you  at 
the  altar  as  the  impoverished  Sir  Edward  For- 
tintower  !  but  as  the  dishonoured  withholder  of 
the  wealth  of  another,  could  you  meet  me  ?" 

"  I  could  not.'' 

^  That  was  nobly  said.  Go,  and  at  once. 
Do  rightly.  Remember  there  is  one  that  de- 
mands your  care — perhaps  deserves  your  affec- 
tion." 

•*  Who,  who,  my  beloved — who  ?" 

"  Your  newly-discovered    relative.     Guard 


160  JACK   ASHORE. 

him  from  the  sharpers  that  will  surround  him — 
let  hinl  not  be  the  easy  prey  of  the  spoiler. 
Assure  yourself  of  his  right,  and  be  then,  in  all 
things.  Sir  Edward  Fortintower — ^be  my  Ed- 
ward." 

**  I  will,  by  heavens  !  What  a  villain  I  had 
almost  been  T' 

It  is  unnecessary,  after  this,  to  record  how 
the  lovers  parted. 


JACK   ASHOKB.  161 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Ob  boird  the  Glory  ■gitn — ^Tbe  marine  ofBcer't  jwn^Ainia- 
ble  interrnptionflp— The  akipper  plejs  ezpontor — How  to 
go  in  chaae  of  joor  nose,  and  to  recover  it— An  ezeellent 
and  pleasant  moral  maj  be  extracted  from  a  reij  bad  and 
an  unpleasant  dream. 

'*  Now  for  your  story,"  said  Captain  Firebrass, 
with  all  that  pawky  amiability  of  look  that  cha> 
racteriaes  a  mastiff  which  is  expecting  a  bone. 

This  was  addressed  to  Captain  Curtois  of  the 
royal  marines,  a  gentleman  most  eminent  for 
the  figure  of  speech  known  by  the  name  of 
**  amplification."  Happy  and  thrice  happy 
were  the  captain's  guests  when  the  amphibious 
warrior  commenced  his  prolonged  tale  of  won- 
der. The  host  could  not,  from  his  sense  of  po- 
liteness, sleep,  and  the  story  would  not  finish. 


162  JACK   ASHORE. 

therefore  the  wine  was  necessarily  expedited  in 
its  revolutions,  in  order  to  drive  away  the  in- 
sidious approaches  of  slumber.  Thus,  his 
narrations  never  failed  to  produce  excitement ; 
and  however  stale  was  his  story,  before  it  was 
finished  his  listeners  always  became  fresh. 

The  power  of  producing  sleep  by  either  an 
oral  narrator  or  wordy  author,  is  a  gift  that 
has  been  too  much  and  too  unjustly  derided. 
Narcotics  are  among  the  most  valuable  of  our 
medicines,  and  the  drug  that  operates  at  once 
upon  the  mind,  without  nauseating  the  taste,  or 
by  its  deleterious  nature  injuring  the  coats  of 
the  stomach,  cannot  be  too  highly  extolled.     . 

There  is  much  art  needful  to  send  a  reader 
judiciously  to  sleep.  We  think  that  ^^  naval 
novels,^  as  they  are  called^  excel  in  this  quality, 
and  we  have  the  vanity  to  believe  that  our  own 
are  not  deficient  in  it.  All  that  we  can  say 
is,  that  we  have  done  our  best,  and  that  we, 
unlike  those  other  physicians  who  work  by 
draughts  and  pills,  have  not  the  least  objection 
to  our  own  medicines.  Whenever  we  feel  rest> 
less,   we  immediately  have  recourse  to  those 


JACK   ABHOBE.  l63 

best  of  opiatesy  our  own  productions ;  and  they 
never  fail  in  their  operations.  Can  many 
M.D.*8  or  fashionable  authors  say  so  much? 
We  opine  not. 

We  were  nearly  asleep  ourselves,  as  we 
penned  this  digression — ^not  from  the  dull  na* 
ture  of  the  digression  itself,  but  from  our 
memory  reverting  to  the  long,  dull  story  by 
which  the  marine  captain  extorted  from  the 
naval  captain  a  double  allowance  of  wine  for 
himself  and  brother  guests.  At  length  he  got 
so  intolerably-  prosy,  that  the  not  unwilling 
hand  was  scarcely  able  to  convey  to  the  very 
willing  lips  the  rapidly  circulating  glass ;  it 
became  a  matter  of  the  nicest  speculation  whe- 
ther the  listeners  would  be  asleep  or  drunk 
first,  when  Captain  Firebrass^  no  longer  able 
to  bear  this  tantalisation,  exclaimed,  '<  By  all 
the  nightmares  that  Old  Nick  ever  laid  upon 
indigestion.  Captain  Curtds,  are  you  going  to 
send  us  to  sleep  for  an  eternity?  Sing  it,  man, 
sing  it  to  a  lively  tune — the  more  Irish  the 
better ;  and  that,  with  brandy  in  our  claret, 
may  help  us  to  see  an  end  of  this  yam.* 


164  JACK   ASHORE. 

Nothing  daunted  by  this  apostrophe  of  Cap- 
tain Firebrass,  the  marine  officer,  draining  his 
bumper,  thus  continued : 

**  Don't  be  annoyed,  gentlemen,  don^t  be  an- 
noyed— I  am  going  to  sleep  myself.  As  I 
before  told  you,  the  day  had  been  extremely 
sultry ;  we  had  all  been  excessively  wearied,  and 
the  wild  hog  and  the  guanna,  upon  which  we 
had  made  our  evening^s  and  our  only  repast, 
had  been  but  very  indifferently  broiled.  The 
water  which  we  could  procure  in  these  leafy 
solitudes — ^in  these  umbrageous  wilds — ^in  this 
primeval  forest — '' 

<*  Holloa,  there  I  vast  heaving !  what  ship  ? 
Never  heard  o^  these  afore,"  said  the  straight- 
forward master. 

**  A  little  poetical  or  so,*  said  Captain  Fire- 
brass,  kindly  and  patronisingly.  '*  Our  good 
friend  amplifies.  Marine  officers  read  novels, 
and  they  pick  up  in  them  vessels  with  strange 
names,  that  were  never  launched  from  his  ma- 
jesty's dock-yardsi  He  only  means  that  the 
water  was  brackish  in  the  jungle  in  the  swamp."* 

^^  My  duty  to  you.  Captain  Firebrass,*^  said 


JACK   A8HOEE.  165 

the  master^  swigging  off  at  a  draught  his 
tumbler  of  half-and-half — (he  had  preferred 
grog  to  the  various  wines) — "  my  service  to 
you,  sir — I  am  much  obliged  to  you.  I  under- 
stand now.^ 

The  skipper  was  very  much  flattered :  it  is 
so  pleasant  to  instruct,  and  to  show  ourselves 
capable  of  instructing.  He  smiled  graciously 
upon  the  master,  and,  for  the  first  time  during 
the  story,  nodded  kindly  to  Captain  Curtois, 
and  requested  him  to  proceed,  keeping  a  sharp 
look-out  for  the  oratorical  flourishes  of  the  nar- 
rator, that  he  might  perform  the  office  of  run- 
ning illustrator. 

**  The  water  was  not  only  saturated  with 
saline  particles,  but  was  also  impregnated  with 
marsh  miasmata.** 

Here  Captain  Firebrass  again  whispered  to 
the  master,  who  really  seemed  all  abroad,  and 
fairly  taken  aback,  *^  The  water  stunk,  and  was 
brackish — nothing  else,  I  assure  you.** 

Captain  Firebrass  was  no  longer  sleepy,  but 
took  a  great  interest  in  the  story. 

**  Consequently,  gentlemen,"  continued    the 


166  JACK  ASHORE. 

Story-teller,  ^^  you  must  not  be  surprised  that 
we  drank  our  grog  strong — intensely  strong, 
Mr.  Trestletree.'' 

Mr.  Trestletree  smacked  his  lips,  and  emptied 
his  tumbler. 

^*  Although  it  was  composed  only  of  that 
deviPs  distillation  aquadente." 

*'  Beg  pardon  for  coming  athwart  hause,*^ 
interrupted  the  master,  *^  but  I  hasen'^t  enough 
gumption  to  diskiver  it."  And  he  illustrated 
the  speech  by  the  act.  "  You  mcike  grog — I 
appeals  to  Captain  Firebrass — ^and  grog  com- 
pases  you — that  is  to  say,  when  you've  got 
enough  of  it." 

^*  Ah  !"  said  the  purser,  with  a  look  of  pro- 
fundity, '^  this  is  a  very  nice  question,  and  not 
to  be  dismissed  too  hastily.  Nautically  speak- 
ing, grog  can  neither  be  composed  nor  made — it 
is  mixed.  Were  I  to  tell  my  steward  and  the 
petty  oilicers  to  make  their  grog,  it  is  a  matter 
of  doubt  whether  they  would  not  drink  the 
beverage  when  made — but  when  I  say,  mix  the 
grog,  I  speak  nautically,  perspicuously,  and 
conformably  to  the  rules  and  regulations  of  his 


JACK    ASHOKE.  167 

majesty's  service;  so  pray,  Captain  Curtois, 
proceed,  and  say,  *  Although  it  was  mixed  only 
with  that  deviPs  distillation  aquadente.*  ^ 

'^  Although  it  was  mixed  only  with  that 
devil^s  distillation  aquadente,  we  took  care  that 
the  alcohol  should  predominate  over  the  aqueous 
fluid." 

Captain  Firebrass  graciously  interpreted. 
He  was  never  in  a  better  humour  in  his  life. 

"  The  consequence  of  this  feast  of  wild  hog 
half  broiled,  and  green  lizard  half  roasted,  with 
the  thermometer  above  ninety,  and  grog  that 
contained  no  more  water  than  was  sufficient  to 
christen  it,  was,  that  all  of  us  lay  the  founda- 
tions of  as  complete  an  indigestion — ^ 

"  As  ever  alderman  suffered  after  a  civic 
feast,^  said  Captain  Firebrass,  eagerly  snatch- 
ing up  the  thread  of  the  story. 

^  I  beg  your  pardon.  Captain  Firebrass ;  I 
was  not  going  to  say  anything  like  it.  I  was 
going  to  say,  an  indigestion  as  complete  as  is 
experienced  by  the  topsail  halyards'  fly-block 
with  a  man's  arm  jammed  in  it ;  or  as  is  suffered 


163  JACK    ASHORE. 

by  a  poor  fellow  when  be  finds  the  best  part  of 
his  story  taken  out  of  his  mouth.*^ 

Captain  Firebrass  began  to  look  ferocious, 
drank  three  glasses  of  claret  in  rapid  suc- 
cession, and  finished,  in  pure  absence  of  mind, 
by  tossing  ofi*  the  master'^s  new-filled  tumbler 
of  half-and-half. 

*^  Well,  gentlemen,  my  Indian  platt  ham- 
mock was  suspended  between  two  trees,  and, 
jumping  into  it  with  all  my  clothes  on,  I  swang 
like  a  lemon  in  a  net,  and  prepared  to  go  to 
sleep.  Gentlemen,  I  will  not  inflict  upon  you 
anything  in  the  shape  of  romance,  nor  waste 
your  time  and  mine  in  describing  the  awful 
stillness  of  the  forest,  the  picturesque  appear- 
ance of  our  Indians,  or  the  brilliancy  of  the 
stars  that  hung  above  me.  Those  stars  I 
should  have  been  most  happy  to  have  regarded, 
but  the  sand-flies  and  the  musquitoes  laboured 
so  laudably  in  their  vocation,  that  I  was  obliged 
to  have  my  face  entirely,  though  not  closely, 
covered  up. 

"  Well,  in  this  wild  solitude  I  fell  asleep — ^for 


JACK   ASHORK.  160 

for  deep  I  suppose  I  must  call  it :  for, 
for  some  time  I  was  in  that  dreamy  con- 
idousDess  of  comfort  and  rest  that  is  so  de- 
lightful. In  time,  howerer,  I  began  to  feel 
restless,  and  to  believe  that  all  manner  of 
reptiles,  with  which  the  bay  of  Honduras 
abounds,  began  to  dimb  over  me  and  press  me 
down  in  my  hammock.  This  did  not  very 
much  alarm  me ;  for  I  said  to  myself,  I  know  I 
am  asleep,  and  I  am  only  paying  the  penalty  of 
a  very  venial  excess  of  broiled  wild^^hog,  half 
roasted  lizard,  and  fiery  grog.  Well,  my  tor- 
mentors seemed  to  multiply,  and  grew  more 
troublesome  and  mischievous ;  but  I  still  con- 
soled myself  with  the  idea  that  I  was  fast 
asleep.  At  length,  one  imp  more  audacious 
than  the  rest  squatted  itself  heavily  on  my 
breast-bone,  and  thrusting  its  paw  into  a  pouch 
of  its  horrible  skin,  drew  out  a  tobacco-box, 
and  taking  a  quid,  after  some  of  the  most  dia- 
bolical grimaces  that  the  imagination  can  con- 
ceive in  chewing  it,  the  devilskin  very  com- 
posedly squirted  his  filthy  saliva  into  my  face, 
which  saliva  seemed  to  scorch  me  like  molten 
vou  I.  1 


170  JACK   ASHORE. 

lead.  At  fisrt  I  was  angry,  but  endeavoured 
again  to  console  myself,  by  whispering,  for  I 
could  not  speak  up,  ^  Never  mind,  it  won't  last 
long — I  am  only  asleep.  This  is  nothing  but 
an  attack  of  incubus.^ " 

^  He  means  nothing  but  the  nightmare," 
whispered  Captain  Firebrass,  looking  saga- 
ciously around,  and  recovering  his  good  humour. 

«« *  You  lie !'  said  my  friend  on  my  chest, 
^  you  are  not  asleep,  but  you  ought  to  be. 
Here,  Cacofogo— here,  Demodonderpate — rock 
the  gentleman  to  sleep !'  Upon  this,  two  of 
the  ugliest  and  wickedest  looking  of  baboons 
commenced  see-sawing  me  in  my  hammock,  the 
monster  on  my  breast  all  the  time  enjoying  the 
ride  amazingly.  The  motion  began  to  make 
me  sick,  and  I  again  attempted  to  plunge, 

"  *  Be  quiet,  drat  thee — wilt  thee  ?'  said  the 
hypergriiBn  upon  me,  tweaking  me  by  the  nose 
in  order  to  make  me  lie  still — when,  to  my 
horror,  my  nasal  ornament  came  off  in  his 
fingers !  ^  Well,^  said  the  malicious  imp,  ^  this 
comes  of  handling  marine  oiBcers'  noses.  Curse 
them,  they  are  always  rotten !  ^ 


JACK    A8HOBK.  171 

'"  If  I  Stand  this,'  said  I,  '  my  name  is  not 
Captain  Joshua  Curtois.    Give  me  my  nose, 

you  yagabcHid.* 
« *  See  you  d-^-d  first !' 
**  Well,  up  I  sprang,  and  away  went  the 
demon,  right  aloft  into  the  tree.    I  seized  hold 
of  the  bough  to  which  the  head  of  my  ham* 
mock  was  suspended,   and,  making  but  one 
bound  on  it,  gave  chase  for  my  nose.     It  was  a 
great  stake,  and  I  made  such  exertions,  and 
displayed  an  activity  so  superhuman,  that  all 
who  saw  me  were  electrified.    I  soon  got  near 
my  pursuit,  which  then,  to  avoid  my  just  anger, 
bad  changed  itself  into  the  likeness  of  the  boat- 
swain, who  then  appeared  to  be  fast  asleep  in  a 
fork  of  the  tree,  with  his  left  arm  lashed  round 
one  of  the  branches  with  his  handkerchief,  to 
prevent  him  from  falling.    But  I  was  not  to  be 
deceived  by  the  metamorphose."    (Here  the 
skipper    explained.)     ** '  My  nose,  scoundrel 
thief,  my  nose !'  I  roared,  hitting  the  demon 
an  orthodox  punch  in  the  face. 

**  *  What  have  I  got  to  do  with  your  nose, 
and  be  cursed  to  you  ?'  said  the  sprite. 

I  2 


-^  •  I  mm-  ^mn  rA  k  ia  yoor  jacket  pcxket,' 

"^muaiBC  k  •ran — ^cc  hack  to  mj  hammock  in 
ft  r-i».  Msai  v3a  I  J^vi  hj  down  I  fitted  on 

i  my  ease,  and  with 
and  then  fdl  asleep, 
the  san  was  Tery  hot, 
tiiea  I  Cnrnd  the  first 
taf  c^  s&ip^  wIk»  was  in  command  of 
caie  w^>  od  tke  boatswain  aloi^side  of  me, 
Qt*  Iiir»r«  wick  a  faitier  complaint  of  my  having, 
3z  cne  a^:kc.  c&abed  ap,  quite  drunk,  to  his 
rcMst^  ^ri^undr  amauhed  him,  and  robbed  him 
of  a  ball  of  spiinTaim.  This  I  irehemently  de- 
a^ed»  and  swore  diat  I  bad  never  moved  from 
BKT  kamanck,  and  bad  slept  soundly  all  night. 
How^rrer,  mv  aMnnishmcnt  became  extreme 
when  I  found  my  five  in  ckne  contact  with  the 
k)K»t  ball  of  spunyam^  and  all  besmeared  with  tar; 
nd  I  was  still  mote  bewildered  when  several 
of  the  seamen  deposed  to  my  pranks  in  the  tree;^ 
and  it  was  not  until  some  hours  after  that  my 
detestable  dream  recurred  to  me  by  slow  degrees. 
*'  You  look  incredulous,  gentlemen ;  but  what 


JACK    ASHORE.  173 

I  have  told  you  is,  I  asmiK  you,  true;  and  yet, 
Captain  Firebrass,  I  do  not  believe  that  I  was 
80  drunk  as  poor  John  Truepenny,  whom  you 
have  determined  to  flog*" 

^  How  do  you  account  for  your  insane  be- 
haviour. Captain  Curtois?"  said  Firebrass, 
rather  too  moodily  for  the  hopes  of  mercy  that 
the  narrator  had  entertained. 

"Merely  an  attack  of  incubus,  terminated 
by  an  access  of  somnambulation,  brought  on  by 
intemperance  and  indigestion.^ 

Captain  Firebrass  graciously  explained,  and 
the  act  brought  him  to  the  confines  of  good 
humour.  Coffee  was  ordered,  and  as  the  officers 
were  about  to  retire,  he  said,  not  very  ill- 
temperedly,  **  Captain  Curt<ns,  I  shall  think  a 
little  of  your  rigmarole  story,  and  see  what  I 
can  extract  from  it  to  benefit  this  fellow  True- 
penny." 

So  far  was  well,  but  the  impervious  ignorance 
of  the  master  spoiled  alL  To  flatter  well  is  not 
the  task  of  a  fooL 

"  I  b^  your  pardon,^*  said  this  officer,  '*  but 


174  JACK    ASHORE. 

sir,   I  could  not  go  without  thanking  you,  sir, 
for  your  kindness,  Captain  Firebrass.     Out  of 
seamanship,  sir,  I  am  not  very  book-learned  ; 
but  a  seaman^s  duty  ashore  and  afloat — ^but 
that  is  neither  here  nor  there — ^all  I  mean  to 
say  is,  that  if  it  hadnH  a  been  for  you,  Captun 
Firebrass,  the  story  would  have  been  like  a 
foul  hause  to  me — ^neither  beginning,  middle, 
nor  end,  and  all  mixed  up  together  like.  With- 
out you.   Captain  Firebrass,  the  yam  would 
have  been  good  for  nothing— as  it  was,   you 
were   the  flower,   and   the  fruit   of  the  story 
too.'' 

*'  Nof  no!*'  said  Firebrass,  in  the  best  of 
humour ;  **  no,  no,  you  are  too  flattering — I 
am  only  a  commentator." 

*<  There  now,'*  said  the  master,  uplifting  his 
hands,  turning  to  his  brother  oflicers,  and  ex- 
claiming in  an  aside  that  might  be  heard 
alongside — ^^  That's  what  I  calls  true  modesty  ! 
Captain  Firebrass  says  he's  only  a  common 
tatur.  Well,  well,  I'll  never  stand  that — 
common  tatur  indeed  !  I'll  always  stick  up  for 
it,  that  he  is  a  kidney  at  least.** 


JACK   A8HOBB.  175 

The  guests  got  out  of  the  cabin  as  well  as 
they  could,  the  skipper  looking  thunder-clouds. 
He  resoWed  to  flog  John  Truepenny  the  next 
day. 


176 


JACK   ASHORE. 


CHAPTER   XII. 


The  laws  of  gallantry  as  respects  oar  gallant  tars — ^The  bam* 
boat  woman  and  her  daughter,  and  love  in  a  bam-boat-*A 
lower-deck  romance—Jack  in  trouble  with  two  comforter^—* 
A  touch  of  the  heroic  rerj  rulgarly  touched  upon— Speci- 
mens of  nautical  orations,  in  which  delicacy  is  a  little 
sacri6ced  to  vigour — All  hands  turned  up  to  see  the  sea 
captain  turn  orer  the  leaves  of  the  articles  of  war. 


The  scene  must  still  be  laid  on  board  of  the 
Old  Glory,  though  there  is  little  that  is  glorious 
to  behold  in  it.  Just  before  nooiv,  the  hands 
were  turned  up  for  punishment.  Silently  and 
sorrowfully,  though  not  slowly,  the  men  con- 
gregated on  the  main-deck.  They  are  not  per- 
mitted to  move  slowly  even  to  witness  the  tor- 
ture   of    a    shipmate,   messmate,    or   perhaps 


JACK    ABHORS  177 

brother.  We  said  are  not— it  may  now  be 
changed,  and  we  hope  it  is.  But,  at  that  time, 
the  boatswain  with  his  cane^  and  his  mates  with 
their  coalts,  had  a  very  summary  method  of 
expediting  the  morements  of  the  crews  of  his 
majesty's  ships.  We  know  that  they  generally 
exercised  this  power  with  humanity,  and  the 
seamen,  knowing  that  this  power  could,  and  if 
occasion  required  it,  would  be  exercised,  were 
correspondingly  alert. 

The  bluejackets  clustered  eagerly  and  anx* 
iously  towards  where  the  gratings  were  rigged, 
for  poor  Jack  was  a  prime  and  an   especial 
favourite  with  every  man  among  them.     We 
have  stated  that  he  had  been  some  few  times 
flogged  before,  and  that,  nautically  speaking, 
he  had  deserved  it.     But  we  must  state,  in  jus- 
tice to  Jack,  that  he  had  never  been  punished 
for  crimen  or  for  neglect  of  duty,  but  only  for 
those  offences  that    arise    from   intemperance. 
He  had  always  received  the  lash  with  Spartan 
fortitude,  subduing  all  expression  of  feeling, 
even  to   the  quivering  of  his  muscles.     The 
amateurs  in  this  sort  of  punishment — we  do  not 

I  5 


178  JACK  ASHORE. 

mean  the  recipients,  but  the  inflicters  and  the 
privileged  witnesses  of  it — ^looked  upon  this 
display  as  a  high  treat ;  and  Jack's  own  equals 
and  his  subordinates — ^for,  being  a  petty  oiBcer, 
he  had  his  subordinates — were  eager  to  witness 
this  torture,  as  they  regarded  his  unflinch- 
ing conduct  as  a  sort  of  triumph  over  the 
cruelty  that  ordered  it ;  and  they  admired  it 
the  more,  because  it  displayed  a  heroism  of 
which  so  few  of  them  could  boast. 

But  there  was  another  cause  that  made  the 
excitement  of  this  intended  punishment  the 
more  intense — a  cause  not  quite  so  honourable 
to  Jack  as  we  could  wish.  It  was  rumoured 
that,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  had  shown  a 
little  want  of  game,  and  it  was  feared  that  when 
tied  up  he  would  show  this  want  still  more. 

There  was  some  foundation  for  this.  The 
poor  fellow^s  spirits  had  begun  to  give  way. 
He  had  now  been  in  irons  nearly  three  days, 
with  his  grog  stopped.  T]ie  excitement  of 
his  deep  and  prolonged  drunkenness  on  pay- 
day had  left  him  ill,  with  his  whole  system 
relaxed.     He  also,  for  the  first  time,  felt  that 


JACK   A8H0BK.  179 

he  was  used  unjustly ;  for  be  never  could  bring 
himself  to  acknowledge  that  he  had  been  a 
willing  assistant  at  the  spoliation  of  the  ship's 
6gure-head« 

However,  against  all  this  he  might,  and  per- 
haps would,  have  borne  up  manfuUj ;  but  there 
was  a  woman  in  the  case — nay,  more — start  not 
fair  and  gentle  reader — there  were  two ! 

Polygamy  in  concubinage  is  not  permitted 
on  board  of  his  majesty's  vessels  of  war.  The 
temporary  liaisons  of  the  sex  with  the  tars  is 
managed  with  all  manner  of  decorum,  and 
fidelity  is  the  order  of  the  day.  If  the  affec- 
tions of  either  party  ^ould  wander,  (and  igare- 
mens  de  coeur  are  but  rare,)  divorce  is  easily 
attainable,  with  but  little  loss  of  time^  and  with 
no  expense. 

It  is  not  quite  fair  to  John  Truepenny  to 
speak  of  his  loves  at  the  very  time  whta  he  is 
going  to  be  flogged ;  but  we  -can't  help  it ; — 
besides,  we  wish  to  put  the  ceremony  off  as  long 
as  we  can. 

We  need  not  again  describe  Jack's  appeari- 
saxce;  if  the  reader  be  a  lady,  and  she  have 


180  JACK  A8H0AE. 

forgotten  it,  she  does  not  deserve  to  have  so 
superb  an  image  of  mortality  again  offered  to 
her  mind^s  eye.  All  that  we  shall  say  in  the 
way  of  repetition  is,  that  Truepenny  could  be 
loved  solely  for  himself;  and  with  tongue^ 
and  deed,  and  fists,  would  Mary  Macannister 
affirm  it. 

Mary  was  formerly  pretty  Poll  of  the  Point, 
but  now  she  was  Jack's  Poll,  and  nobody  else^s. 
Poll  was  a  grand  specimen  of  female  beauty. 
She  was  a  Juno  in  figure  and  stature.  With  a 
profusion  of  dark-chesnut  hair,  deep-blue  eyes, 
and  an  exquisite  complexion,  she  wanted  only 
education  and  refinement  to  have  taken  the  lead 
of  any  woman  in  Hampshire.  Though  so 
strong,  and  formed  upon  so  grand  a  scale,  her 
skin  was  so  peculiarly  soft,  white,  and  delicate, 
that  no  one  felt  inclined  to  pronounce  her  coarse. 
Except  when  her  countenance  was  inflamed 
with  passion,  or  flushed  with  gin,  it  was  of  a 
fascinating  sweetness.  So  clear,  and  joyous,  and 
innocent,  was  its  expression,  that  when  you  re- 
garded her  features  only,  you  would  fancy,  for  a 
moment,  that  you  were  looking  upon  the  face 
of  a  mere  child. 


JACK   ASHORE.  181 

So  great  were  Poirs  natural  attractions,  that 
▼ery  many  officers,  and  some  of  them  of  high 
rank,  made  the  attempt  to  turn  her  into  a  lady, 
and  appropriate  her  to  themselves.  All  these 
endeavours  failed.  Without  being  more,  or 
even  so  vicious  as  her  sisterhood,  she  had  an 
unconquerable  passion  for  low  life.  The  plei^ 
sures  of  good  society  were  too  tame  for  her ; 
the  rules  of  decorum,  and  the  formalities  of  a 
refined  civilisation,  were  so  many  shackles 
upon  her  spirit.  She  loved  noise,  riot,  and 
coarse  excitement — ^red  ribbons,  and  the  saiIor*s 
hornpipe — three  fiddlers  in  a  coach — and  was  not 
averse  to  a  little  amiable  blackguarding  with 
another  lady ;  and  if  finished  by  a  little  fisty- 
cuffing,  the  thing  was  not  only  more  natural, 
but  quite  as  agreeable.  She  was  the  only 
woman  upon  whom  a  black  eye  ever  sat  grace- 
fuUy. 

Such  was  Jack^s  Poll.  Jack's  Sue  was 
altogether  another  being.  She  was  a  slight, 
sickly^looking  girl  of  seventeen.  She  had  fallen 
in  love  with  Jack,  and  if  ever  poor  thing  was 
devoted  to  man,  it  was  Susan  Snowdrop.     She 


Ib2  JACK   ASHOBE. 

was  the  only  daughter  of  a  bumboat  woman, 
who  was  reputed  to  be  exceedingly  rich ;  nor 
was  the  reputation  a  false  one.  She  had  edu- 
cated  Susan  at  a  boarding-school  in  Chichester, 
the  very  best  that  the  place  aflfbrded. 

When  Susan  was  about  sixteen,  her  mother, 
not  quite  approving  of  her  delicate,  though 
then  perfectly  healthy  appearance,  and  remark- 
ing  that  the  sea  air  had  always  kept  herself  in 
robust  health,  made  her  over-educated  daughter 
— over-educated,  we  mean,  for  the  occupation 
— accompany  her  in  her  trips  to  the  men-of- 
war,  and  assist  in  the  multifarious  business 
of  bumming. 

On  one  of  these  occasions  she  had  over- 
reached  herself — tlie  daughter  we  mean— and 
fell  out  of  the  bumboat  The  tide  began 
making  very  free  with  her,  and  was  taking  her 
a  little  involuntary  excursion  to  St  Helens, 
when  John  Truepenny  kicked  off  his  shoes, 
flung  off  his  jacket,  and  kept  her  afloat  until 
they  were  both  picked  up. 

At  first,  Mrs.  Snowdrop  appeared  to  l^e 
grateful  for  the  service ;    but  when  sKe  found 


JACK   ASHORE.  183 

Susan  so  utterly  lost  to  all  sense  of  proper 
dignity  as  to  be  enamoured  of  a  common  sailor, 
she  treated  the  poor  fragile  being  with  a  harsh* 
ness  and  a  cruelty  perfectly  unnatural.     Then 
began  the  romance  of  the  story.    In  high  life* 
or  by  a  fashionable  author,  poor  Sue's  devotion 
would  hare  been  not  only  heroic,  but  sublime. 
She  began  to  write  to  Jack,  who,  not  being  very 
able  to  understand  what  she  meant,  read  her 
letters  to  his  Poll,  who  could  not  read  at  alL 
This  gorgeous  lady,  who  lored  Jack  sincerely, 
was  at  first  very  jealous.    But  this  soon  ceased, 
as  Susan's  fine  phrases  spoke  of  a  virtuous  de- 
votion,   disclaimed    all   sensual  love,    and  at 
length  made  the  cant  of  her  platonism  suffi- 
ciently intelligible — or  at  least  Poll  thought  so— 
to  make  her  believe  her  to  be  a  fool,  and  that 
she  had  nothing  to  fear  from  her  rivalry. 

In  the  mean  time  Susan's  situation  hourly 
grew  worse.  Her  hard  mother  had  recourse  to 
stripes  and  the  cellar.  The  persecuted  being 
then  resolved  to  do  what  had  often  been  before 
done — to  assume  the  garb  of  a  sailor,  leave  her 
maternal  home  for  ever,  and  enter  on  board  of 


184  JACK   ASUOBE* 

the  same  diip  as  Jack  served  in.  This  was 
duly  communicated  to  John,  and  he  and  Poll 
took  counsel  over  it  To  assist  them  in  their 
deliberations,  they  called  in  one  Giles  Grimm, 
commonly  called  Grim  Giles,  from  his  age  and 
exceeding  ugliness.  Grim  was  the  oldest 
quartermaster  in  the  ship,  and  had  been  a  sort 
of  dry  nurse  to  Jack,  receiving  him  into  his 
mess  and  under  his  protection,  when  he  came 
on  board  a  little  boy  from  the  Marine  Society. 
Luckily  Jack  and  his  protector  had  always 
been  united  in  the  various  drafts  that  had 
transported  them  from  ship  to  ship.  It  was  at 
once  decided  that  Miss  Snowdrop  was  too  de- 
licate to  assume  the  character  of  a  sailor-boy. 
The  resolution  that  the  trio  came  to  was  sin- 
gular, and  the  following  were  its  results. 

Poll  went  on  shore,  and  contrived  to  get  Miss 
Snowdrop  away  from  her  mother.  She  then 
took  her  to  her  lodgings,  and  swore  the  poor 
heart-broken  child  over  the  Bible  and  a  broken 
ring,  with  many  other  ceremonies,  that  she 
would  never  be  anything  more  to  her  Jack 
than  what  she  had  asked  for  in  her  letters — to 


JACK  A8H0BK.  180 

be  his  aervanly  and  only  to  live  near  him  and 
look  at  him. '  Polly,  not  being  able  to  read, 
bad  taken  her  expressions  literally.  Had  she 
but  read  a  few  romances,  she  would  have  been 
more  enlightened. 

They  then,  the  next  day,  got  into  a  wherry 
with  many  other  girls,  and  came  alongside  the 
Glory*  Thereupon  old  Giles  Grim  went  aft 
to  the  first  lieutenant,  and  asked  leave  to  take 
his  girl  on  board.  Every  one  who  heard  the 
request  burst  out  laughing ;  but,  as  it  was  per- 
fectly en  T^lej  no  objection  was  made,  and 
Giles  went  down  into  the  boat  and  brought  up 
a  small  lady,  who  trembled  excessively,  and 
whose  face  was  closely  concealed  in  a  black 
veiL  Grim  Giles  behaved  like  a  father  to  her, 
and  gave  up  to  her  entirely  his  own  ham- 
mock. 

Poll  took  very  good  care  of  two  things;  first, 
that  nothing  improper  should  take  place  be- 
tween  the  love-sick  girl  and  her  Jack ;  and,  in 
the  second,  that  Sue  should,  as  she  requested, 
serve  Jack.  She  made  Miss  Snowdrop  do  all  the 


186  JACK   ASHORE 

labour  of  the  mess,  and  played  the  protectress 
and  fine  lady  with  very  becoming  airs. 

The  story  soon  got  wind ;  every  one  won« 
dered,  and  no  one  on  board  uttered  a  single 
suspicion  concerning  Miss  Snowdrop's  reputa- 
tion. It  was  not  so  on  shore.  Mrs.  Snowdrop 
was  very  violent  on  the  occasion.  She  said, 
very  feelingly,  **  That  she  should  not  have  been 
either  vexed  or  surprised  that  her  Sue  should 
have  turned  out  a  loose  hussey,  like  her  mo- 
ther before  her;"  (she  was  a  candid  woman 
that  Mrs.  Snowdrop ;)  ^<  but  what  cut  her  to 
the  heart  was,  her  daughter  taking  up  with  a 
beggarly,  tarry-breeched,  common  sailor :  her 
girl,  with  the  fortin  she  might  have  had,  and 
the  edication  she  had  given  her !  As  to  the 
fortin,  that  should  go  to  the  charity  schools. 
Now,  if  Sue  had  companioned  with  an  admiral, 
or  even  a  post^captain,  she  would  have  thrown 
in  a  thousand  or  two  to  have  set  her  going  in 

style ;  but  now  she  might  be  d d,  and  die 

under  ditch  water,  for  she  should  never  touch 
a  bad  penny  of  her  money  .^ 


JACK   A8H0BB.  187 

Now  all  this  was  known  in  the  fleet,  and 
many  were  the  honourable  oflers  made  to  Susan 
by  various  officers.  She  was,  however,  true  to 
her  romance.  This  little  affair  had  proceeded 
about  three  weeks,  and  had  been  not  unpleasant 
to  all  parties.  Miss  Susan,  with  all  her  devo- 
tion to  Jack,  found  the  interest  that  she  excited 
a  very  pleasant  adulation ;  and  Poll  and  Jack, 
and  their  messmates,  had  a  glorious  time  of  it; 
for  what  with  Susan's  money,  and  various  pre» 
sents  that  flowed  in  from  all  quarters,  they  all 
lived,  to  use  a  seaman^s  expression,  like  so  many 
fighting  cocks. 

The  first  shock  that  Miss  Snowdrop  received, 
and  the  first  doubts  as  to  Jack's  superiority  to 
all  living,  were  on  his  getting  so  beastly  drunk 
on  pay-day.  But  this  had  not  in  the  least 
diminished  her  love.  She  only  reproached  hei^ 
self  for  not  having  taken  better  care  of  him. 
But  she  had  been  actually  scared  away  and 
stupified  by  the  horror  of  the  drunken  crew, 
and  had  concealed  herself,  as  well  as  she  could, 
from  all  observation. 


188  JACK    ASHORE. 

Now,  on  the  morning  appointed  for  John 
Truepenny's  punishment,  seated  between  these 
two  loves,  his  legs  in  the  bilboes,  he  had  occa- 
sion for  more  than  a  Job's  patience. 

Poll  had  a  bottle  of  something  comfortable 
under  her  dress,  and  was  watching  an  opportu* 
nity  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  the  sentry,  in 
order  to  pour  it  down  Jack'^s  throat.  In  the 
mean  time  her  tongue  was  not  idle — ^not  it  She 
was  violently  exhorting  him  to  take  his  stripes 
like  a  man— to  remember  his  former  character, 
to  smile  if  he  could,  and  show  the  rascal  of  a 
skipper  how  little  he  cared  for  him. 

^^  Come,  Jack,    don'^t   be  spooney,  and  be 

d d  to  you — ^look  alive,  man — ^it's  nothing 

but  a  flea-bite !  Why,  there  was  Tom  Tough, 
the  little  foretopman,  a  man  as  I  consarted  with 
for  nine  months  on  a  stretch.  *  Tom,'  says  I, 
^  you  little  varmint,  if  you  don^t  take  this  here 
fly-flapping — ^it  was  only  six  dozen.  Jack — ^like 
a  die-hard,  blowed  if  I  don't  pull  round  the 
buoy,  and  take  up  with  Jemmy.'  '  Well,'  says 
he,  *  sooner  than  that  Pd  take  double.^    ^  Would 


JACK   A8HOB£.  180 

you  ?'  6aj8  I,  *'  then  you  are  heart  of  oak  to 
the  back^bone.'  And  aura  enough  he  did*— 
never  quivered  the  whole  seventy- two  lashes ; 
and  when  be  had  taken  'em  all*  as  quietly  as 
the  baby  at  the  breast  takes  the  milk,  he  ups 
and  asks  tbe  skipper  for  another  dozen«~all  to 
prove  his  love  to  his  Poll.  What  d'ye  think  of 
that.  Jack  ?  *  Well,'  says  the  skipper,  says  he, 
when  he  comes  to  know  the  right  of  it — *  well,' 
says  he,  *  Thomas  TougV — he  always  give  his 
men  their  full  allowance  of  name,  he  did-***  the 
next  time  you're  here — and  it  won't  be  long 
first^ril  take  off  a  round  dozen  for  that  same  i* 
and  so  says  Tom,  *  Your  honour,  I'm  sorry  as 
how  I  didn'*t  ax  ye  for  six  dozen.'  That^s  Vihat 
I  calls  pluck.  Why,  Jack,  what's  come  over 
ye?" 

^'-  I  don't  desarve  this,  PoU,^  said  Jack, 
moodily ;  '*  and  besides,  I  didn't  use  much  to 
mind  it  as  a  lad ;  but,  as  a  man,  I  think,  to  be 
stripped  in  that  manner,  before  all  hands,  ain't 
becoming  and  natral  C*  and  he  looked  queerly, 
almost  as  if  he  had  a  mind  to  cry,  at  Sue,  who 
was  weeping  over  one  of  his  hands  that  she 


190  JACK  A8H0BX. 

held  closely  pressed  to  her  lips.  Both  of  his 
ladies  were  sitting  on  the  deck,  each  on  one  side 
of  him ;  for  the  bilboes  or  irons  on  board  of  a 
man-of-war  are  manacles  for  the  legs  that  slip 
up  and  down  a  long  bar  of  iron,  and  can  only 
be  worn  sitting,  or  lying  at  full  length. 

In  the  short  time  that  Susan  Snowdrop  had 
been  on  board,  she  had  improved  in  looks  won- 
derfully: the  excitement  of  her  strange  and 
romantic  situation  had  been  of  infinite  service 
to  her  health,  both  of  mind  and  body.  Gra- 
dually, a  respect  for  her,  almost  amounting  to 
reverence,  had  grown  upon  John  Truepenny ; 
and,  though  he  knew  it  not  himself,  his  principal 
torture  was  the  disgraceful  light  in  which  he 
conceived  he  must  appear  in  her  sight.  He 
could  not  say  with  Macheath — 

"  How  bappy  oould  I  be  with  either. 
Were  t'other  dear  charmer  away  ;*' 

for  just  then  he  was  truly  miserable  with  both, 
and  could  bear  the  company  of  neither. 

At  length,  and  after  Polly  had  completely 


JACK    ASHORE.  191 

exhausted  herself  by  loud  and  excessive  talk- 
ing, poor  Susan,  oyercoming  the  passion  of  her 
tears  so  far  as  to  enable  her  to  speak,  poured 
forth  the  torrent  of  her  grief.  It  was  distress- 
ing, and  because  it  seemed  to  come  from  a 
broken  heart,  it  was  also  a  heart-breaking  wail. 
Were  it  written,  it  would  appear  but  little 
better  than  a  maudlin,  love-sick  lamentation; 
but  to  have  beard  it  come  from  the  delicate 
thing  that  uttered  it,  every  word  tremulous 
with  anguish,  it  seemed — nay,  it  was — the 
doquence  of  pathos. 

^  John,  dear — dear  John,  I  cannot  bear  it : 
I  can't  indeed.  My  bosom  seems  bursting.  It 
is  better  to  die,  John,  believe  me  it  is — I  will 
die  with  you.  As  they  take  you  to  the  horrid 
torture,  plunge  into  the  sea  through  the  port. 
Tour  Susan  will  be  with  you-^ohn,  do  it,  for 
God's  sake  do  it!  I  will  be  in  your  arms. 
Trust  me — I  have  courage.  Oh,  how  I  should 
glory  in  such  a  death  P 

All  this  was  said  in  an  energetic  whisper,  so 
that  the  sentry  might  not  overhear  this  suicidal 


190  JACK    A8HORS. 

advice.  But  Poll  caught  every  word  of  it.  At 
firBt  she  was  utterly  astonished;  but  having 
more  than  a  woman's  natural  gift  of  speech^ 
(Lord  help  John!)  she  started  up  on  her  kne^ 
and  placing  her  arms  a-kimbo^  and  wagging 
her  head  from  side  to  side,  opened  her 
battery. 

<*  Hoity  toity»  and  the  devil  claw  your  ugli- 
ness. Miss  Susan  Snowdrop.  What  do  you 
mean,   you    undersized,    pale-faced,    minikin- 

moppet  ?   You  may  die,  and  be  d d  to  you ; 

but  let  me  catch  Jack  dying,  and  by  the  holy 
poker  I'll  lead  him  such  a  life,  that  he  sha^n't 
know  whether  his  soul  is  his  own  or  no.  Out 
upon  you,  cream-faced  hussey,  to  make  a  man 
that  is  a  man,  afeard  to  take  a  few  paltry  dozen 
like  a  man!  A  cursed  ninny  was  I,  Mary 
Macannister,  to  listen  to  your  romantic  titivally 

stuff  about  vartue,  dewotion,  and  such  d d 

spoonery.  Get  down  to  the  berth,  you  snivelling 
cow,  and  clean  my  shoes,  and  don't  stay  here 
piping  your  gooseberry  eye  to  make  a  fool  of 
Jack.    Why,  I'm  an  honest  woman  if  Jack 


JACK   ASHORE.  193 

ain't  a  going  to  drop  his  jaw  and  man  his  eye- 
pumps.  Ob,  joa  Jezebel !  you  scum  of  a  dirty 
bum-boat  P 

At  this  moment  this  sublime  specimen  of  the 
vituperative  was  suddenly  broken  off  by  the 
hands  being  turned  up  for  punishment,  as  we 
have  before  stated,  and  all  the  women  in  the 
ship  being  ordered  below.  John  Truepenny 
had  not  uttered  a  word,  and  when  the  two 
females  were  actually  torn  from  him,  he  ap- 
peared to  be  utterly  passive.  Poll  was  removed 
by  force,  cursing  and  swearing ;  but  still  her 
greatest  anxiety  was,  that  Jack  should  receive 
his  punishment  with  an  appearance  of  indiffer- 
ence that  would  uphold  his  formfr  fame. 

A.S  to  poor  Susan,  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  she  threw  her  arms  round  Jack's  neck,  and 
kissed  him  passionately  and  loiig.  Poll  saw 
this  just  as  two  of  the  ship^s  corporals  were 
forcing  her  down  the  hatchway.  Vigorous  was 
her  plunge,  and  horrible  her  oath  at  this  sight. 

*^"^Be  pacified,  Mary,**  sobbed  out  Susan. 
<*  It  is  the  first  time  and  the  last." 

TOL.  I.  K 


194  JACK  ASHORE. 

What  Poll  answered  was  not  distinctly  heard, 
for  there  was  a  scuffle  and  a  screaming  as  she 
was  handed  down  into  the  lower  deck. 

The  master-at-arms  now  took  Truepenny  out 
of  irons,  and  whilst  this  was  going  forward, 
Susan  again  tempted  him  to  allow  her  the 
pleasure  of  dying  with  him,  by  jumping  through 
the  port*hole.  Jack  now  spoke  for  the  first 
time,  and,  with  a  look  of  drollery  mingled  with 
sadness,  said — <*  Why,  I  might'  as  well ;  but 
what  would  Poll  say  ?  I  should  not  have  much 
objection  to  drown  myself  to  obligate  you,  but 
then  I  shouldn't  be  flogged,  you  know,  to  obli- 
gate Poll.  So,  Miss  Snowdrop,  if  it's  all  the 
same  to  you,  we'll  take  the  flogging  first,  and 
talk  about  the  drowning  afterwards.'^ 

«  Before,  before—" 

But  here  the  master-at-arms  interfered,  and 
respectfully  intimated  to  Susan  that  she  must 
now  positively  go  below.  She  had  been  suffered 
to  remain  so  long,  only  from  the  deference  that 
was  universally  paid  to  her,  on  account  of  her 
correct  behaviour  and  her  romantic  story.     She 


JACK   ASHORE.  195 

walked  forward  in  deep  conversation  with  the 
master-at-arms,  whilst,  guarded  by  two  marines. 
Jack  was  brought  to  the  gangway. 

As  we  have  before  stated,  with  a  proper  atten- 
tion to  John  Truepenny^s  convenience,  everything 
had  been  duly  prepared  to  give  him  a  warm 
reception^  and  to  do  him  honour.  A  double  file 
of  marines,  with  fixed  bayonets,  had  been  drawn 
up  on  the  gangway;  aU  the  officers  were  as- 
sembled on  the  quarter-deck,  wearing  their 
cocked-hats  and  side-arms,  and  very  conspi- 
cuously placed  in  the  centre  of  them  stood 
Captain  Firebrass  with  the  articles  of  war  in  his 
hand,  and  his  hat  most  ominously  slewed  right 
athwart-ships  over  his  fiery  face.  His  mind 
was  not  entirely  satisfied  with  the  act  he  was 
going  to  perform ;  so^  in  order  to  drown  re> 
flection,  he  had  very  judiciously  worked  himself 
into  a  passion. 

The  last  ineffectual  pleadings  for  mercy  for 
honest  John  had  been  sternly  silenced.  Fire- 
brass  came  to  the  very  edge  of  the  quarter- 
deck, and  from  thence  looked  down  wrathfully 
upon  John  Truepenny,  who^  uncovered,  looked 

k2 


196  JACK  ASHOKE. 

up  resignedly  to  his  captain.  The  silence  was 
so  intense  on  board,  that  the  low  ripple  of  the 
tide  was  heard  as  it  plashed  under  the  bow,  and 
gurgled  past  the  ship.  The  officer  and  the 
seaman  looked  at  each  other  for  some  time ;  at 
length,  two  big  tears  tumbled  over  from  out 
Jack's  eyes,  and  trickled  down  bis  rery  hand- 
some face.  The  captain  smiled  scornfully. 
Jack  brushed  away  those  evidences  of  feeling 
with  the  sleeve  of  his  jacket,  with  a  hurried 
action  of  indignation,  and  looking  proudly  up, 
exclaimed— 

**  It  is  only  the  gals  I'm  thinking  on,  yer 
honour,  not  myself;  you  may  now  cut  away, 
and  do  your  worst. '^ 

John  then  assumed  a  look  so  cold  and  rigid, 
that  it  would  have  drawn  smiles  of  approbation 
from  an  assembly  of  Spartans. 

It  was  usual,  at  least  in  our  time,  at  every 
punishment  at  the  gangway,  to  do  what  the 
methodists  would  call  ^^  improve  the  occasion — ** 
that  is,  sermonize,  according  to  the  captain's  or 
commanding  officer's  talent  at  sermonizing. 
Sometimes    this  infliction  was  almost  as  bad  as 


JACK    ASHORE.  197 

the  stripes,  even  to  the  flogged;  to  all  those  who 
bad  not  committed  any  offence  it  was  intolera- 
ble. This  speechifying  was  very  similar  to 
the  good-humoured  sport  a  cat  takes  with  a 
mouse  before  she  crunches  up  its  poor  little 
bones — a  sport  in  which  the  pleasure  is  most 
unequally  divided. 

But  most  of  these  flagellation  harangues 
b^an  with  one  identical  sentence :  '*  My  man — " 
or  sometimes,  if  the  skipper  was  remarkably 
polite  —  '^  my  good  man,  do  you  know  why 
you  are  brought  here  ?*'  Various  have  been  the 
answers. 

**  Not  exactly,''  was  the  imprudent  reply  of 
John  Truepenny.  Captain  Firebrass  swore  a 
terrible  oath,  boxed  a  midshipman's  ear  for 
craning  his  neck  too  much  forward  to  observe 
what  wasgoing  on,  and  finally  opened  the  articles 
of  war  with  an  emphatic  bustle  that  boded  no 
good  to  our  hero. 


198  JACK   ASHORE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  miseries  of  suspense-mental  not  so  soon  over  as  suspense- 
cerriosl-^A  little  toaeh  of  the  classica]  prodaced  by  a 
contemplation  of  the  bom-boat  woman — Much  excitement 
and  anziety-^Change  for  a  penny  wanted — Ceptain  Fire- 
brass  uncivil. 

John  is  not  yet  flogged,  but  every  appearance 
is  strongly  indicative  that  he  will  be  shortly 
made  happy  by  the  consciousness  that  it  is  all 
over.  But,  alas  !  there  is  many  a  slip  between 
the  cup  and  the  lip.  Excellent  proverb ! 
The  temptation  to  preach  upon  it  is  almost 
equal  to  that  of  making  a  flagellation  sermon. 
But  we  are  possessed  of  no  common  forbearance. 
Let  the  prosy  imitate  us,  and  prose  no  more. 

Whilst  all  these  threatening  proceedings  were 
taking  place  on  board  of  the  Glory,  the  June 
sun  was  shining  brilliantly ;  it  was  a  cheerful 


JACK    ASHOBK.  199 

breezy  day,  not  too  waitn ;  for  there  was  an 
exhilarating  sjHrit  in  the  air  that  made  one  feel 
that,  wherever  it  is  to  be  enjoyed  and  perfected, 
there  is  something  immortal  in  the  nature  of 
man.  It  was  such  a  day,  that  that  person 
should  have  been  flogged  himself  who  would 
think  of  spoiling  it  by  flogging  another  in  its 
benevolent  and  glorious  sunshine^ 

On  such  a  day  it  was  a  surprise  to  nobody 
that  many  boats  with  pleasure^seeking  parties 
should  spread  their  little  sails,  and  put  out  a 
mile  or  two  to  sea*  But  something  more  than 
common  seemed  to  have  tempted  the  people  of 
Portsmouth  to  venture  out  this  morning. 
Three  long  six-oared  galleys,  each  some  hundred 
yards  apart,  though  abreast  of  each  other,  were 
seen  straining,  with  all  the  energy  and  strength 
of  the  rowers,  to  make  the  best  of  their  way  to 
the  fleet  at  Spithead.  These  galleys  were 
accompanied  by  a  number  of  wherries,  all 
pulling  for  their  very  lives;  in  some  of  them 
there  were  different  kinds  of  music,  and  most  of 
them  had  several  of  the  frail  sex  in  their  stem- 


200  JACK   ASHORE. 

sheets,  all  decked  out  in  their  gaudiest  attire. 
Small  flags  were  flying  in  many  of  the  boats ; 
and  those  which  could  not  boast  of  such  a  dis- 
play had  hoisted  various  coloured  handler* 
chiefs.  It  seemed  as  if  Portsdown  fair  was 
taking  an  aquatic  excursion.  It  was  evidently 
a  jubilee  of  some  sort,  and  one  in  which  the 
lower  orders  took  especial  delight. 

But  we  must  keep  our  attention  particularly 
fixed  upon  the  three  well-manned  and  fast- 
pulling  galleys,  one  of  which  has  taken  the 
lead,  and  the  whole  three  are  straining  to  gain 
a  particular  point,  and  each  of  them  to  outstrip 
the  other.  The  cort^e  of  less  well-equipped 
boats  are  left  considerably  behind. 

As  the  different  boats  passed  the  ships  of  the 
fleet  in  succession,  they  gave  loud  cheers,  but 
on  what  occasion  it  was  impossible  for  those  on 
board  to  divine.  Some  thought  that  a  great 
victory  over  Bonaparte,  who  was  then  making 
the  first  strides  in  his  ambitious  career,  had 
been  obtained  ;  some,  that  there  was  a  change 
of  ministry-— for  the   community  always  wel- 


JACK    ASHORE.  201 

come  a  change ;  and  some,  that  there  was  to  be 
a  new  member  of  parliament  for  the  town  of 
Portsmouth. 

It  DOW  became  evident  that  the  three  galleys 
had  selected  the  Old  Glorv  for  their  destination, 
as  she  was  lying  a  great  way  outside  of  the 
rest  of  the  ships.  In  the  foremost  galley,  be- 
sides the  six  boatmen,  all  dressed  in  white,  with 
bows  of  blue  ribbon  affixed  to  their  right  arms, 
there  were  two  fiddles,  a  French  horn,  and  a 
clarionet,  all  playing  with  might  and  main, 
**  See  the  Conquering  Hero  comes."  But 
what  made  this  boat  the  more  remarkable  was 
a  large  new  silk  banner,  which  was  displayed 
at  the  head,  and  streamed  forth  gallantly  over 
the  men  pulling  in  the  boat.  In  the  centre  of 
this  flags  on  a  light  blue  ground,  ^et^  em- 
blazoned  the  following  arms : — On  a  gorgeous 
shield,  divided  into  three  compartments,  were, 
on  the  first,  on  a  chief  azure,  three  silver  pennies 
proper ;  on  the  second,  or,  three  turrets  proper ; 
on  the  thirds  argent,  three  wheels  proper,  all 
within  a  border  sa«  Fpr  crest,  were  the  head 
and  bust  of  the  goddess  Fortune  with  her  eyes 

K  5 


203  JACK    ASHOBE. 

andaged)  all  proper ;  and  the  motto^  in  large 
letters  of  gold,  was — 

VERUM  DENABIUM  MUTATUB  IN  EQUITE  TEBO. 
CHANGE    FOB   A   PENNY. 

In  the  stem-sheets  of  this  boat  sat,  fully 
aware  of  the  dignity  of  his  appointment,  the 
chief  constable  of  Portsmouth,  between  whom 
and  Mr.  Scrivener  was  the  fair  and  wonder- 
ing daughter  of  the  latter,  resplendent  in  much 
finery,  and  really  looking  very  beautiful.  Mr. 
Scrivener's  enthusiasm  was  wonderful.  He 
seemed  to  perspire  bright  globules  of  anima- 
tion. He  cheered  till  he  was  out  of  breath ; 
and  when  he  could  no  longer  vociferate,  he  dis- 
played his  ecst^y  by  waving  his  hat  with  one 
hand,  and  a  very  respectable  roll  of  parchment 
with  the  other. 

The  next  boat  in  the  procession  could  boast 
of  neither  band  nor  lady.  It  was  also  pulled  by 
six  rowers,  but  they  worked  as  strong,  sober 
men  should  do^they  evidently  wanted  the 
vinous  excitement  of  the  crew  that  had  out- 
stripped them.     The  after  part  of  this  boat 


JACK    ASHORE.  208 

cootaioed  only  one  person,  with  the  exception 
of  the  coxswain*  He  was  plainly  dressed,  was 
evidently  a  professional  man,  and  was  distin- 
guishable from  most  others  only  by  his  pecu- 
liarly placid  and  sensible  countenance.  His 
demeanour  was  in  marked  contrast  to  that  of 
Mr.  Scrivener.  He  was  evidently  in  the  best 
of  humours,  but  his  enjoyment  of  his  happiness 
was  quiet,  and,  if  we  may  use  the  expression, 
interoaL  He  was  also  a  lawyer,  but  the  rara 
iwis  of  the  profession,  the  honest  one  already 
known  to  us  by  the  name  of  Josiah  Single- 
heart. 

The  third  boat  of  pretension  was  a  black  gig, 
evidently  bdonging  to  some  stylish  yacht;  it 
was  well  manned,  and,  had  its  crew  put  forth 
its  strengtbf  could  have  very  easily  beaten  the 
two  galleys.  The  single  gentleman  in  her,  and 
who  steered  by  tiller-ropes,  seemed  to  be  more 
intent  on  observing  the  motions  of  the  two 
galleys,  than  desirous  of  pushing  forward,  or  of 
being  the  first  to  gain  the  Old  Glory,  which  was 
now  palpably  the  destination  of  this  miscellaneous 
fleet  of  boats.     The  gig  carried  the  person,  and 


204  JACK    ASHORE. 

we  may  also  truly  say  the  fortunes,  of  Sir  Ed* 
ward  Fortintower. 

No  sooner  had  Mr.  Scrivener^s  boat,  with  its 
clamour  of  music,  and  shouting,  and  screaming 
—-for  Miss  Scrivener  had  just  found  it  conve- 
nient to  become  a  little  hysterical — got  within 
hail  of  the  Glory,  than  the  sentries  on  the  bows 
and  gangway  began  to  warn  her  off  under  the 
penalty  of  being  fired  upon,  if  Mr.  Scrivener 
persisted  in  coming  alongside — which,  however, 
he  did  very  valiantly. 

'<Eeep  off!  keep  offP  vociferated  the 
sentinels. 

**  Don't  you  see  the  signal  for  punishment 
flying  ?''  shouted  the  quarter-master. 

**  Fire  upon  that  insolent  rascal  T  roared 
out  Captain  Firebrass,  with  an  oath,  running 
to  the  gangway  with  the  articles  of  war  in  his 
hand. 

*^  Squar — ah — a  P  shrieked  Miss  Scrivener. 
^'  Crash,  dash,  squash  I"    went  the   band, 
with  more  than  usual  energy. 

"  Sir  John  Truepenny  !"  bellowed  forth  the 
lawyer  and  the  boatmen,  the  latter  lying  upon 
their  oars,  and  all  waving  their  hats. 


JACK    ASHORE.  205 

<'  By  all  that  is  indifferent  P  bellowed  Cap- 
tain Firebrass,  *<  if  you  come  a  foot  nearer,  TU 
sink  you  with  cold  shot  l'^ 

^  The  silver  oar !  the  silver  oar  !"  said  the 
head  constable  of  Portsmouth,  standing  up  as 
well  as  he  could,  and  steadying  himself  with 
his  left  hand,  whilst  he  displayed  the  symbol  of 
civil  authority  in  his  right. 

*'  Double  the  sentries — place  men  in  the 
chains  and  on  the  gangways  with  cold  shot  * 
The  first  boat  that  touches  the  Old  Glory's 
sides,  down  she  goes,  and  not  a  mother's  son  of 
ye  shall  be  picked  up — damn  ye  all !''  said 
Firebrass. 

"  Sir  John  Truepenny  for  ever !"  was  the 
answering  cheer. 

The  orders  of  the  captain  of  the  Glory  were 
promptly  obeyed.  Neither  he  nor  his  officers 
well  understood  this  commotion.  They  ima- 
gined that  it  was  some  foolish  plot  got  up  by 
Miss  Snowdrop,  to  prevent  the  man  she  was 
crazy  for  from  being  flogged.  In  the  cheers 
that  came  from  the  boats,  the  *^  Sir"  was  not 
marked)  and  it  seemed  that  they  were  simply 


206  JACK    ASHORE. 

cheering  "  John  Truepenny."  This  only 
hastened  the  preparations  to  commence  the 
flogging. 

By  this  time  all  the  shore-boats  had  crowded 
round  the  ship,  and  made  a  motley  but  re- 
markably gay  appearance.  But  the  boat  that 
far  excelled  all  the  others  was  the  large  and 
stoutly-built  bumboat  of  Mrs.  Snowdrop.  Mrs. 
Snowdrop  had  received  her  name  from  the 
public  at  large,  and  not  from  either  of  her  bus- 
bands^  though  she  had  had  fifteen,  without 
having  been  married  to  any  one  of  them.  Her 
neighbours  and  her  customers,  the  jolly  tars  of 
the  fleet,  began  to  be  tired  of  calling  her  by  a 
new  name  every  year,  as  she  appeared  under 
the  protection  of  a  new  husband;  so  they  styled 
her  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  to  prevent  further  trouble ; 
the  word  **  snow,^  in  allusion  to  her  very  dark 
and  swarthy  complexion,  the  word  '*  drop,^  to 
her  immense  corpulency.  Mrs.  Snowdrop  had 
been  in  a  state  of  merry  widowhood  for  the 
last  eighteen  months. 

There  have  been  some  rather  brilliant  de- 
scriptions  of  Cleopatra's  barge — and  some  of 


JACK    ASHORE.  207 

Cleopatra  benelf.  We  will  not  presume  to 
compare  Mrs.  Snowdrop  with  Cleopatra,  though 
we  should  surmise,  that,  in  point  of  complexion, 
there  must  have  been  a  gratifying  similarity ; 
but,  when  we  come  to  the  barges  of  the  beau- 
ties,  we  shall  not  certainly  be  so  ready  to  give 
the  preference  to  the  wanton  Egyptian's. 

By  some  means,  which  money  alone  can 
command,  Mrs.  Snowdrop  had  got  the  True- 
penny banner  made  just  as  large  again  as  that 
which  floated  over  the  galley  of  lawyer  Scri- 
vener. But  she  had  two— a  large  one  planted 
in  the  bow,  and  a  little  one  gracefully  hanging 
over  the  stem.  Then,  the  number  of  her  mu- 
sicians was  double,  and  the  loudest  playing 
noise-creators  that  could  be  found. 

But  the  boat  itself  was  most  glorious.  At  a 
distance  it  seemed  like  a  floating  bower  of  roses, 
dotted  over  with  flags  and  streamers.  In  the 
first  place,  the  whole  of  it  had  been  matted 
over,  to  a  considerable  height,  with  green 
boughs — always  excepting  a  small  space  in  the 
stem-sheets,  which  displayed  the  august  pon- 
derosity of  Mrs.  Snowdrop's  person,  where  she 
sat  alone  in  her  glory. 


208  JACK    ASHORE. 

These  arches  of  green  boughs  were  spread 
over  with  every  flower  that  the  young  summer 
and  the  mild  climate  of  Hampshire  could  pro- 
duce; but  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  in  the  exuberance 
of  her  taste,  was  not  content  with  the  natural 
beauties  of  the  gardens   and  the    fields — she 
stuck  the  whole  over   with   a  crop  from  the 
haberdashers,  consisting  of  large  bows  of  blue 
and  white  ribbons,   whilst  others  of  all  gay 
colours    streamed    freely   forth   to    the    wind. 
Little  silk  banners,  also,  drooped  over  the  sides ; 
and,  to  add  to  the  effect,  several  branches  bear- 
ing real  cherries,   both   red  and   white,  were 
placed  amidst  all  this  gorgeousness.     The  band 
was  completely  hidden  by  this  arbour  of  united 
ribbons  and  roses,  and  the  oars  were  put  forth 
through   the  foliage,  and   propelled  the  boat 
lustily,  without  the  human  agency  being  visible. 
According  to  Wapping  notions,  nothing  could 
be  finer  as  it  moved  along  the  waters,  the  black 
man  with   his  cymbals,  and  the  kettle-drum, 
giving  cheerful  note  of  its  majestic  progress. 

But  the  gorgeous  Mrs.  Snowdrop !     She  was 
certainly  not  like  one  of  the  lilies  of  the  valley. 


JACK    ASHOBV.  S09 

but  much  more  like  Solomon  in  all  his  glory. 
The  superficies  of  her  body  was  spacious,  very 
spacious,  yet  did  the  lady  find  it  all  too  scant 
for  the  display  of  her  adornments.  All  we  can 
say  is,  that  wherever  a  bow,  a  piece  of  jewel- 
lery, or  a  piece  of  tinsel,  could  be  displayed, 
displayed  it  was— and  yet,  so  inordinate  is 
human  vanity,  Mrs.  Snowdrop  was  not  satisfied. 

As  her  boat,  owing  to  the  lofty  bower  with 
which  it  was  covered,  held  a  great  deal  of  the 
cheerful  breeze  that  was  gambolling  over  the 
sunlit  sea,  it  was,  where  it  ought  not  to  have 
been,  one  of  the  last  of  the  train.  It  had,  at 
length,  joined  the  others,  and  its  braying  band 
was  clamorous  over  the  waters,  and  reverberated 
against  the  sides  of  the  Old  Glory,  on  board  of 
which,  notwithstanding  its  closely-packed  mul- 
titude of  men,  all  was  silent  as  death. 

Room,  by  the  involuntary  respect  paid  to 
splendour,  was  made  for  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  and 
she,  pushing  through  the  crowd  of  boats,  made 
boldly  for  the  entering  port  of  the  Old  Glory, 
when  the  order  *^  to  keep  off,"  and  the  display 
of  cold  shot,  made  her  pause  on  her  oars.     She 


210  JACK    ASHORE. 

Stood  up,  and,  waving  her  handkerchief,  shouted 
"  Sir  John  Trueponny  for  ever !  Change  for 
a  penny  I" 

The  cheer  was  taken  up  enthusiastically  by 
the  floating  multitude,  and  ^*  Sir  John  True* 
penny  for  ever  I  Change  for  a  penny  !"  sounded 
along  the  whole  line  of  the  astonished  fleet,  just 
at  the  very  moment  that  Sir  John  himself  was 
going  to  be  flogged. 

In  the  mean  time,  we  must  not  lose  sight  of 
Sir  Edward  Fortintower  in  his  fast-pulling  gig. 
He  had  held  a  short  conversation  with  Mr. 
Singleheart,  and  then,  watching  his  opportu- 
nity, dropped  quietly  under  the  bows  of  the 
three-decker,  and  displaying  a  half-guinea,  soon 
learned  from  a  man  who  was  melancholily 
wringing  swabs  in  the  head,  the  true  state  of 
things  on  board.  This  he  had  no  sooner  ascer- 
tained, than  placing  his  gig  in  the  centre  of  the 
squadron  of  boats,  he  demanded  silence  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  and  spoke  thus — **  Men,  bro- 
thers. Englishmen !  They  are  this  moment 
going  to  flog  Sir  John  Truepenny  !  It  is  illegal 
as  well  as  cruel ;  he  belongs  not  to  the  navy — 


JACK    ASHORE.  211 

he  is  no  longer  under  martial  law — he  has  been 
discharged  from  the  service  by  the  lords  of  the 
Admiralty.  The  discharge  is  in  the  hands  of 
the  head  constable  with  the  silver  oar — here  is 
a  copy  of  it.     Shout,  shout  !^ 

Horrible  were  the  yells  and  clamour  that 
ensued — ^loud  the  curses— intense  the  anxiety. 
Mrs.  Snowdrop  threatened  to  go  into  fits — Mr. 
Scrivener  threatened  innumerable  actions — Miss 
Scrivener  had  actually  fainted — and  our  honest 
lawyer,  Mr.  Singleheart,  talked  very  loudly 
and  very  learnedly  about  habeas  corpus  and 
the  bill  of  rights.  All  this  availed  nothing— * 
the  boats  were  kept  off. 


212  JACK    ASHDRE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  skipper  in  a  fair  way  of  being  diuppoioted — Mutiny  in 

the  ahoie-boats,  and  aomeching  near  it  on  board — The  Old 

Glory  boarded  and  taken — Change  for  a  penny  procured  at 

last— 'Much  edification  attempted — ^The  man  of  law  gets  the 
better  of  the  man  of  war-- -and  much  hostility  terminated  in 
an  amicable  conference. 

During  these  transactions,  the  scene  on  board 
the  Glory  was  singular.  There  stood  Captain 
Firebrass,  livid  with  rage,  and  inarticulate  with 
passion.  His  officers  now,  in  feelings^  sided 
partly  with  him.  They  felt  the  service  greatly  in- 
sulted, and  their  own  dignity  undervalued,  by 
what  they  supposed  to  be  an  attempt  of  the 
mobocracy  to  interfere  with  naval  duty.  It 
was  generally  imagined  that  Susan  Snowdrop 
had  instigated  her  mother  to  make  this  maritime 


JACK    ASHOKE.  213 

etneute  in  favour  of  Jack*  The  men  were 
anxious  and  silent,  but  mutiny  was  in  the  hearts 
of  many. 

At  length  Captain  Firebrass  had  so  far  re- 
covered as  to  commence  reading  the  article  of 
war  against  drunkenness^  every  sentence  of 
which  was  chorussed  by  the  shouts  of  '*  Sir 
John  Truepenny  for  ever !  Change  for  a 
penny  !*• 

That  short  ceremony  over,  Captain  Firebrass 
roared  out,  "  Strip  !" 

^*  Sir  Jolm  Truepenny  for  ever  I  Change 
for  a  penny !"  from  the  boats. 

The  master-at^irms,  a  shrewd  old  man, 
under  pretence  of  assisting  the  prisoner,  con- 
trived to  whisper  in  his  ear,  **  to  be  as  long  as 
be  could.'* 

Jack,  understanding  nothing  at  all  that  was 
going  forward,  determined  to  follow  his  advice. 
He  fumbled  at  his  silk  handkerchief,  and  con- 
trived to  make  its  running  tie  an  intricate 
knot. 

**  Strip^  you  mutinous  scoundrel,  strip  T  said 
the  captain. 


S14  JACK  ASHORE. 

"  Sir  John  Truepenny  for  ever !  Change 
for  a  penny  I  Yah  !  Murder  !  Shame !  To 
hell  with  old  Firebrass !  Sir  John  Truepenny 
for  ever !     Murder !     Change  for  a  penny  I" 

"  By  G— d  !  I'll  fire  upon  the  boats  P  said 
the  captain. 

'*  Pray  consider  the  women,  sir,^  said  the 
first  lieutenant,  firmly,  but  respectfully. 

There  was  a  dangerous  and  an  uneasy  moving 
about  of  the  closely-packed  men  on  the  main- 
deck,  though  no  word  was  spoken. 

*'  fietter  defer  the  punishment,  sir,**  said  the 
captain  of  marines,  taking  off  his  hat,  and 
speaking  officially. 

^*  Another  word  to  that  effect,  and  I'll  put 
you  under  arrest.    Strip,  rascal,  strip  !^ 

*^  I  can't  undo  my  handkerchief.  Poll  has 
tied  it  in  a  true-love  knot !"  said  Truepenny, 
quite  carelessly  and  at  his  ease. 

"  Gro  it,  Jack !"  was  distinctly  heard  from 
several  voices  among  the  men,  and  all  of  them 
grimly  smiled  their  approbation. 

"  Master-at-arms !  take  off  the  prisoner's 
handkerchief  r 


JACK    ASHOBE.  215 

The  master-at-arms  was  not  more  successful. 
Captain  Firebrass  threatened  to  disrate  him, 
and  ordered  him  to  pluck  it  off  over  his  head. 
But  Jack's  head  had  grown  unaccountably 
large,  or  the  knot  had  been  tied  closely  round 
his  throat. 

'<  Cut  it  off  the  villain^s  neck  P'  said  the  cap- 
tain. 

It  was  done,  and  now  no  impediment  pre- 
vented Jack  from  taking  off  his  check  shirt, 
which  he  did  very  deliberately,  and  amidst  the 
cries  from  the  boats,  of  *'  Sir  John  Truepenny 
for  ever  I     Change  for  a  penny  !*' 

The  lashings  were  soon  produced,  and,  at 
length,  with  his  arms  fully  extended,  his  manly, 
broad,  and  brilliantly  white  back  was  exposed 
to  the  public  view.  So  symmetrica],  and  so  well 
pronounced  was  its  muscle,  and  so  classical  its 
form,'  that  a  sight  of  it  would  have  been  a  rap- 
ture to  a  statuary.  The  punishment,  the  dis- 
grace, seemed  inevitable.  Captain  Firebrass 
was  unmanly  enough  to  express  in  his  counte- 
nance a  savage  delight.  The  fault,  the  crime, 
was  not  the  impulse  of  his  heart,  but  of  his 


216  JACK    ASHORE. 

temper;  but  man  will  Dot,  nor  ought  he  to 
distinguish,  when  the  evil  is  the  same  to  a 
fellow-creature:  —  we  hope,  for  the  thousands 
that  have  tortured  their  fellow-creatures  under 
its  influence,  that  Grod  may. 

*^  Boatswain's-mate,  do  your  duty !"  said 
Firebrass,  in  a  calm  voice. 

llie  stalwart  petty  officer  stood  forward  from 
the  group,  and  deliberately  drawing  his  huge 
fingers  through  the  nine  knotted  tails  of  the 
cat,  in  order  that  each  fibre  of  the  scorpion 
might  have  its  due  advantage  to  sting,  be  flou- 
rished the  instrument  of  torture  once  round  his 
head ; — but,  before  it  could  descend  upon  the 
back  of  the  prisoner,  a  singular  and  a  lovely 
obstacle  intervened,  and  he  arrested  his  hand 
in  the  mid-air. 

A  shriek  and  a  slight  bustle  in  the  crowd, 
and  Susan  had  sprung  upon  Jack's  shoulders, 
and  clasping  his  neck  with  her  arms,  there  she 
glued  herself.  She  spoke  not — she  was  pale  as 
death — she  seemed  even  dying. 

**  Damnation !"  roared  out  Captain  Fire- 
brass. 


JACK  A8HORR.  217 

**  Sir  John  Truepenny  for  ever !  Shame ! 
Murder!  Change  for  a  penny T  came  with 
an  increased  energy  from  the  boats* 

The  cry  of  **  shame**  now  began  to  be  more 
audible  among  the  crew.  The  crisis  was  dan- 
gerous. The  men  might  be  hurried  into  some 
act  of  mutiny  under  the  influence  of  sympathy, 
which,  when  suppressed,  could,  for  the  sake  of 
the  generous  motive  itself,  hardly  be  punished. 
The  men  had  already  begun  to  press  too  rudely 
upon  the  circle  of  boatswain's  mates  and  petty 
officers^  and  to  cry  out  **  Pardon  I  Captain 
Firebrass,  pardon  l*^ 

Poor  Jack  himself  was  affected  to  agony,  and 
began  to  cry  like  a  child.  Several  good  men 
said,  ^  I  can't  stand  it,"* — ^very  ominous  words 
when  uttered  by  sedate  and  tried  seamen. 

But  Captain  Firebrass  was  not  the  man  to 
be  shaken.  His  measures  were  prompt.  He 
ordered  a  strong  division  of  marines  down  into 
the  main-deck,  and  directed  them  to  bear  back 
the  men  who  crowded  too  much  upon  the  spape 
reserved  for  the  punishment.  When  this  was 
effected,  and  a   circle  of  marines  had  been 

VOL.    I.  L 


218  JACK   A8HOEE. 

formed  round  Jack  and  Susan,  two  of  the  ship's 
corporals  were  ordered  to  unloosen  the  girPs 
grasp.  This  they  were  unable  to  effect  The 
surgeon  and  one  of  his  assistants  then  gave 
their  aid,  but  with  no  better  result.  The 
whole  proceeding  was  unmanly,  yet  stem  duty 
seemed  to  say  that  it  must  go  on. 

The  surgeon  said  that  he  feared  the  girl 
would  go  into  coByulsion%  and  recommended 
that  the  punishment  should  bo  deferred.  To 
this  Captain  Firebrass  observed,  *^  That  he 
might  bleed  the  young  — —  where  she  waa, 
and  he  would  answer  for  it  that  that  would 
make  her  loose  her  hold." 

This  speech  disgusted  the  sternest  advocates 
for  discipline ;  and  as  this  disgust  was  not  dift- 
guised,  the  captain's  fury  became  intense. 
Susan  herself  now  increased  his  difficulties. 
Hitherto  she  had  remained  perfectly  silent,  but 
now,  all  at  once,  she  commenced  screaming  like 
a  maniac.  O  that  woman's  scream!  how 
loud,  how  excruciating !  who  can  hear  it,  and 
not  bum  to  fly  to  the  relief  of  the  sufferer? 

Its  effect  was  electrical.    The  mother  heard 


JACK  ASHORE.  919 

and  knew  ber  child's  shriek  of  paiiu  The 
crowds  in  the  boats  heard  it,  and  shuddered  at 
first,  and  then  they  said,  ^*  They  are  floggii^ 
a  woman  P  and  they  shuddered  no  more,  but  all 
pushed  forward.  Now  there  was  no  fear  of 
sentries  or  cold  iron  shot.  Some  muskets  were 
fired,  and  some  shot  thrown  into  the  sea — ^but 
all  harmlessly — ^for  the  hearts  of  those  within 
were  with  those  without  The  gallant  Old 
Glory  was  actually  boarded  and  taken  by 
sbore-boatsy  wherries,  and  bum*boat8,  manned^ 
if  we  may  use  the  expression,  by  women,  boys, 
fiddlers,  and  lawyers. 

But  the  first  person  who  gained  the  quarter- 
deck was  Reai^miral  Lord  Gambroon,  whom 
at  this  crisis  Sir  Edward  had  brought  on  board 
in  bis  own  gig.  Mr.  Scrivener,  and  the  head 
constable  with  his  silver  oar,  came  next ;  and 
these  were  immediately  followed  by  Mrs.  Snow- 
drop and  her  long  train  of  admirers. 

Lord  Gambroon,  who  had  been  made  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  particulars  by  Sir  Ed- 
ward Fortintower,  immediately  ordered  John 
Truepenny  to  be  cast  off,  taking  all  the  re. 

L  2 


220  JACK   ASHORE. 

poDsibility  of  the  act  upon  himself.  Mrs.  Snow- 
drop knew  not  which  to  do  first,  to  fiy  at  Cap- 
tain Firebrass  and  tear  out  his  eyes,  or  to  hurry 
to  the  relief  of  her  daughter,  who  was  now  in  a 
swoon,  and  under  the  care  of  the  surgeon.  The 
mother's  tenderness  got  the  better  of  the  woman's 
fury,  and  she  directed  all  her  care  to  Susan'^s 
recovery. 

In  the  mean  time,  Lord  Grambroon,  having 
said  a  few  kind  words  to  the  intruders  in  the 
ship,  ordered  them  all  out  of  it,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  two  lawyers.  Miss  Scrivener,  who 
would  not  leave  her  father,  the  constable.  Sir 
Edward,  and  Mrs.  Snowdrop.  Having  thus 
restored  the  usual  order  of  a  man-of-war,  he 
told  Captain  Firebrass,  who  was  wrathfuUy 
pacing  the  quarter-deck,  that  he  should  now  be 
happy  to  explain  to  him,  and  hear  from  him 
in  return,  any  explanations  he  might  have  to 
o£Per,  concerning  these  strange  transactions. 

**  Explanations,  my  lord  I  I  have  no  expla- 
nations to  make.  The  even  course  of  duty  lies 
plainly  before  me.  You  have  virtually  taken 
the  command  of  this  ship  from  out  my  hands. 


JACK   ASHORE.  221 

1  consider  myself  as  a  prisoner — ^as  such  I  de- 
mand a  court-martial  on  my  conduct— and  as  such 
I  resign  my  sword  into  your  lordship's  hands." 

*^  Be  not  so  hasty,  good  Captain  Firebrass-^ 
be  not  BO  hasty  ;  for  what  saith  the  wise  man  of 
the  holy  word  ?  But  woe  is  it  to  you  that 
you  regard  too  little  what  might  there  be  found, 
more  precious  to  you  than  silver,  or  gold,  or  all 
worldly  wealth.     Be  not  over  hasty  !** 

^'  Over  hasty  I  In  the  name  of  all  that  is 
honourable,  what  have  I  done  to  deserve  this 
insulting  interference?  A  man  gets  drunk, 
against  the  good  discipline  of  the  navy,  and  in 
direct  violation  of  an  article  of  war ;  I  am  going 
to  punish  him,  in  order  that  I  may  repress  a  vice 
too  prevalent  in  the  service ;  when,  by  means 
of  his  connexions  on  shore,  the  prisoner  raises  a 
sort  of  riot  on  the  ocean,  to  stay  the  arm  of 
justice.  Am  I — is  any  officer  deserving  of  his 
commission,  to  have  his  course  of  duty  turned 
aside  by  such  a  rebellious  display  as  that  which 
you  have  just  witnessed?*^ 

^  Certainly  not.  Captain  Firebrass ;  you  are 
in  the  right,  and,  so  far  as  you  were  informed. 


222  JACK  ASHOEE. 

have  acted  very  rightly ;  but  I  think  that  you 
should  have  displayed  some  little  respect  to  the 
ensigns  of  the  civil  powers  of  these  realms. 
Had  you  done  so  in  this  instance^  much  of  this 
unpleasantness  had  been  avoided.*' 

<<  The  silver  oar  !**  pertly  interposed  the  head 
constable. 

"  May  be  d d  !  and  all  who  pull  at  it  P 

said  the  irate  captain,  who,  turning  to  the 
rear-admiral,  thus  continued,  *^  I  hope,  my 
lord,  it  is  no  breach  of  duty  to  swear  at  a 
fellow  who  shoves  his  oar  in  uncalled  for,  in  this 


manner." 


cs 


Swear  not  at  all!''  said  his  lordship,  so- 
lemnly. 

**  Well,  my  lord,  I  won't,  to  oblige  you. 
Enough  to  make  Simon  the  Less  swear  though  ! 
This  fellow,  my  lord,  talks  about  his  silver  oar ; 
but  I  had,  and  still  have,  as  your  lordship  may 
perceive,  my  signal  flying  that  punishment  is 
going  on  on  board  this  ship." 

**  I  do,"  said  his  lordship ;  *^  pray  let  it  be 
taken  down  immediately.^ 

*^  With   your  lordship's  permission   I  had 


JACK  ASHORE.  823 

rather  that  it  should  be  kept  flyiDg—*at  least  all 
the  time  that  your  lordsbip  does  tne  the  hooour 
to  remain  od  board*  I  always  supposed  that 
the  dgnal  was  to  be  hdd  sacred." 

''  I  do  not  blame  you^  Captain  Firebrass;  be 
not  over-hasty ;  it  would  have  been  an  expen* 
sive  matter  to  you,  had  you  flogged  this  man. 
It  is  now  three  days  since  he  has  been  relieved 
from  his  responsibility  to  martial  law.  Here 
is  the  original  discharge  by  the  Admiralty.** 

Captain  Firebrass  read  it,  and,  when  he  came 
to  the  words,  '*  Sir  John  Truepenny,  Baronet, 
of  Fortintower-hall,  now  serving  in  your  ship 

under  the  name  of  John  Truepenny,*^  burst  into 
a  prolonged  fit  of  laughter. 

^  You  dare  not  disobey  that  order,**  said  his 
lordship. 

**  No^  no  I  my  lord — ^but  I  wish  I  had  flogged 
him  first/' 

**  That  was  an  unamiable  wish  «-^  an  un* 
worthy  wish  T  said  Lord  Gambroon,  reproach.. 
fuUy. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  my  lord.    Oh  I  it  would 


Si24  JACK   ASHOEB* 

have  been  so  glorious  to  have  flogged  a  Sir  John  ! 
I  wish  I  had  \^  with  a  deep  sigh. 

*'  I  wish  you  had,  with  all  my  heart  and 
soul,"  said  Mr.  Scrivener.  ^  Would  not  I 
have  trounced  you  ?  I  would.  What  a  glo- 
rious action  !  Damages  ten  thousand  pounds  I 
Costs  five  hundred !  You  move  for  a  new 
trial — damages  excessive — misdirection  of  j  udge 
to  jury — Cleave  granted  on  payment  of  costs — 
good — mark  that,  on  payment  o{  costs  I  Gro  it 
again — ^same  verdict  You  get  in  a  passion, 
call  me  names,  cheating  lawyer,  et  cetera,  and 
so  forth.  Another  action — more  damages- 
more  costs.  I  wish  you  had  flogged  Sir  John, 
I  do  indeed.     Is  it  too  late  now  ?" 

**  Who  the  devil  are  you,  you  lank-visaged 
scarecrow  P"^  said  Firebrass,  turning  upon  Mr. 
Scrivener  like  a  worried  tiger. 

^'  Gro  on,  Captain  Firebrass — go  on ;  words 
not  actionable  yet— soon  will  be.  O  pray  have 
the  goodness  to  go  on,  gentle  Captain  Fire- 
brass.^' 

**  Who  is  this  rascal  ?^ 


JACK    A8HOBS.  225 


cc 


Very  good;  gentlemen,  you  are  my  wit- 
nesses. He  has  called  me  rascaL  Captain 
Firebrass,  I  will  tell  you  who  I  am.  I  am 
Simon  Scrivener,  gentleman,  one  of  the  certifi- 
cated attorneys  practising  in  all  his  majesty's 
courts  of  law,  videlicet — ^ 

**0  my  granny!  You  cheating,  swindling, 
bloodsucking  vampire — you  defrauding  vaga- 
bond r 

**  Go  on,  good  Captain  Firebrass.  This  is 
very  pleasant,  I  do  assure  you,*^  said  Mr. 
Scrivener,  noting  down  every  word  that  the 
passionate  skipper  uttered.  ^'  Gentlemen  all, 
you  will  be  served  with  subpcBnas— <in  the 
honour  of  a  solicitor  you  will.** 

The  gentlemen  all  moved  off,  giving  Mr. 
Scrivener  a  wide  berth. 

**  Be  pacified,  Captain  Firebrass,'*  said  Lord 
Gambroon,  quietly. 

*^  In  this  matter  I  will  not  be  pacified,  my 
lord ;  there  is  no  peace  for  me  until  this  sucker 
of  men^s  blood,  this  robber  of  the  widow  and 
the  orphan,  is  out  of  my  sight.    Away  with 

l5 


226  JACK   AtHOBX. 

you !  out  of  my  ship  this  iD9tant.    Begone ! 
common  cbeater.** 

^  Most  excellent  I"  said  Scrivener,  still  writ^ 
ing*  *^  I  tell  you  I  am  here,  Captain  Fire* 
brass,  as  the  official  friend  and  legal  adviser  of 
Sir  John  Truepenny,  Baronet.  I  have  lawful 
authority  for  my  presence,  and  I  will  not  go 
until  I  see  my  client  removed  from  duresBe^ 
and  free  from  all  restraint.  Till  I  see  that,  go 
I  will  not,  Captain  vPirebrass — nor  will  I  go  at 
all  without  him.*' 

"You  will  not  go?" 

**  Positively  I  will  not,  unless  upon  the  ap- 
plication of  fOTce.** 

^  Here,  a  couple  of  you,  bundle  this  fellow 
down,  neck  and  crop,  and  pitch  him  into  liis 
boat  as  you  would  a  pig  of  dirty  ballast'* 

^*  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Sailor-men,  you  need 
not  be  violent;  there — just  lay  your  hands 
upon  me — that  will  do-^now  I'll  go  as  quietly 
as  a  lamb.  A  very  good  morning's  work  I've 
made  of  it  Let  me  see,^  continued  Mr.  Scri- 
vener, counting  upon  his  fingers ;  *^  threes  four. 


JACK   A8HOBB.  327 

6¥e  aelkms  —  one  of  them  ad  assault  of 
an  cNitrageous  nature;  besides  bringing  you» 
Captain  Firebraas,  within  the  cootaoaptof  opurt, 
lor  interfering  between  me  and  my  dieat*' 

*^  Am  I  to  be  bearded  in  my  own  ship  ?  By 
all  the  idob  of  the  Ivitea — ^by  the  fSalse  fire 
that    would    not    consume    Sbadrach»     Ha* 

n 


<« 


Peace,  good  Captain  Firebrass;  listen  to 
,  and  avoid  the  sins  of  evil  spiking,  inordi* 
nate  wrath,  and  profane  swearing,^  said  I«ord 
Gambroon. 

Fairly  baited  into  non^reaistanGe,  the  captain 
became  passive,  and  he  then  heard  all  the 
statements  of  the  case.  When  Lord  Gam- 
broon had  finished.  Captain  Firebrass  turned 
round  to  Sir  Edward  Fortintower,  and,  with*, 
out  troubling  himself  with  any  unnecessary 
ceremony,  thus  accosted  him,  shaking  him  by 
the  hand  in  a  manner  that  nothing  but  a  very 
athletic  form  could  have  borne  with  impunity. 
*^  Welcome,  and  thrice  welcome^  to  the  Old 
Glory,  Sir  Edward.  You  are  the  stufi^  thai 
seamen  should  be  made  of!     So  you 


228  JACK  ASHOBB. 

intend  to  surrender  all  this  immense  estate  with- 
out letting  the  lawyers  peck  at  it.  Noble  I  by 
Jupiter,  it's  noble !  But  what  will  you  do^  my 
hearty— what  will  you  do  ?  Too  late  to  make 
a  sailor  of  you.  O  Lord !  O  Lord  I  And  yet,  I 
donH  know — join  me,  and  111  rate  you  as  a 
midshipman  at  once.*^ 

"  Thank  you— thank  you,  most  heartily,*' 
said  Sir  Edward.  '*  I  have  not  yet  made  the 
election  of  my  profession ;  but,'^  turning  to 
Mr.  Singleheart,  **  really,  my  good  friend  here 
has  spoken  first.  He  is  an  attorney — ^nay,  don't 
start  back  so — and  he  has  kindly  o£Pered  to 
take  me  as  an  articled  clerk." 

*^  And  you  knocked  him  down,  of  course  ?" 

**  Quite  the  reverse ;  I  entertained  the  pro- 
position very  gratefully." 

**'  And  there  was  a  crossing  to  be  swept  in 
London  ?"   said  Firebrass  scornfully. 

After  some  further  conversation,  Sir  Edward 
Fortintower  and  Lord  Garabroon  retired  into 
Captain  Firebrass's  cabin,  at  the  invitation  of 
the  latter ;  but  nothing  would  induce  him  to 
listen  to  the  suggestions  of  the  rear-admiral  to 


JACK   A8HOBE.  229 

inyite  the  two  lawyers  also;  for  Mr.  Scrivener 
was  stfl]  on  the  quarter-deck,  and  the  galhtnl 
captain,  when  he  had  heard  his  lordship's  state- 
ment, thought  it  the  wisest  plan  to  give  the 
attorney  as  wide  a  berth  as  he  would  have  given 
to  a  porcupine. 


280  JACK    ASHORE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Jtoky  being  cMt  off,  has  a  verj  pleasant  meetiiig— Macb  eX" 
hilaration,  and  more  exultation,  with  some  explanation  that 
makes  matters  more  confosed— Jack  trims  sails,  trims  him- 
self, and  (^ires  Poll  a  trimming— -Very  hnmhly  makes  for 
the  cahin,  and  plays  the  ^eat  man  without  knowing  it 

We  must  now  return  to  Jack,  who  had  been 
just  cast  off,  luckily  for  hini)  unscathed  by  the 
burning  torture  of  the  knotted  thongs.  All  was 
bewilderment  in  his  mind.  At  his  feet)  in- 
animate, lay  Susan,  her  dress  disordered,  and 
the  surgeon  chafing  one  hand,  and  Mrs.  Snow- 
drop, as  fine  as  fine  colours  and  ribbons  could 
make  her,  the  other.  Though  her  daughter 
was  in  a  state  so  distressing,  her  own  countenance 
was  more  than  cheerful ;  it  was  actually  wild 
with  joy  and  triumph,  and  every  now  and  then 
she  would  look  up  and  around,  and  exclaim  to 


J  ACS  A8HOBX.  981 

the  petty  officers  and  seamen  who  were  watching 
this  curious  scene — ^  Keep  your  distance,  feUers 
— ^know  yerselves  and  others—the  Lord  lore 
ye  I  Change  for  a  penny  !  Ah,  ah — ^rero  demme 
raree  rum !" 

Miss  Elfrida  Eugenia  Scrivener,  who  had 
come  on  bcNurd  with  her  papa,  and  who,  when 
she  was  about  to  ascend  to  the  quarter-deck, 
bad  been  pressed  into  the  service  of  recovering 
her  daughter  by  the  bum-boat  lady,  was  staring 
upon  all  that  passed  around  her,  in  dumb 
astonishment  Her  beautiful  and  simple  face 
never  before  appeared  so  beautiful  and  so  simple. 
Without  the  power  of  self-wUi,  she  seemed 
fucinated  to  one  spot,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  broad,  polished,  and  naked  shoulders  of 
Jack,  whoi  in  the  confusion  and  hurry  that 
ensued,  could  not  immediately  find  his  banyan, 
and  did  not,  indeed,  at  first  remember  that 
from  his  waist  upwards  he  was  as  naked  as  the 
statue  of  the  Belvidere  Apollo. 

There  stood  Elfrida  Eugenia,  gasing  in 
stupified  delight,  inattentive  to  the  pdite  offers 
of  several  midshipmen  to  remove  her  from  a 


232  JACK    ASHORE. 

scene,  that,  judging  from  her  dress,  and,  com- 
paratively speaking,  her  lady-like  appearance^ 
they  thought  must  be  distressing  to  her. 

Miss  Susan  Snowdrop  had  just  begun  to  show 
symptoms  of  returning  animation,  when  her 
mother,  suddenly  starting  up,  thus  addressed 
John,  who  was  looking,  if  possibly  more  stu- 
pified  than  the  young  lady  of  whom  he  had 
made  so  sudden  a  conquest. 

^<  My  lud  barrownight,  I  beg  your  grace- 
ship's  pardon,  but  your  ludship's  back  is  as  bare 
as  the  palm  of  my  hand.  O  Lord  !  la — I  do  de- 
clare— may  I  have  the  honorification  of  putting 
on  for  you  your  ludship's  shirt  ?  Yer  dirty 
swabs,  where's  my  lud  Sir  John  Barrownight's 
banyan  ?  * 

It  was  duly  produced  from  among  the  crowd 
of  staring  and  astonished  Jack  Tars. 

^^  Now,  my  lud  barrownight,  with  your  lud- 
ship's permission — change  for  a  penny  V*  and 
suiting  her  actions  to  her  words,  she  began  to 
assist  Jack  to  wriggle  himself,  arms  first,  into 
his  worsted  vest.  **  I  hope,  my  lud,  I  doesn't 
vituperate  your  ludship's  barrownightish  back — 


JACK    ASHOKE.  283 

but,  as   we  says,  yero  demme  raree  rum  for 
ever ! 

^  Gammon  I"  said  Jack — the  first  word  he 
bad  spoken  since  he  had  been  cast  off  from  the 
grating." 

'^  O,  your  honoured  ludship  has  the  whitest 
skin,  and  the  softest." 

*^  Tell  that  to  the  marines,''  said  Jack. 

But  whilst  Mrs.  Snowdrop  was  thus  solacing 
her  heavy  fat  hands  more  than  was  absolutely 
necessary  in  adjusting  Jack's  dress,  there  was  a 
sudden  sensation  among  the  seamen — ^a  bustle—* 
the  well-packed  mass  of  men  divided,  and,  with 
face  on  fire  and  arms  a-kimbo.  Poll  burst  upon 
the  scenes  and  facing  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  first  spat 
in  her  face,  and  then  hissed  out  from  between 
her  teeth,  **  You  cow!" 

^^  You  common  character !"  replied  Mrs. 
Snowdrop,  with  a  return  equal  in  energy  and 
saliva. 

.  *<  Madam  of  many  husbands,*^  said  Poll, 
dropping  Mrs.  Snowdrop  a  curtsey  to  the 
ground,  **  111  just  trouble  you  to  keep  your 


234  JACK   ASHOBK. 

paws  to  yourself,  for  no  homan  touches  my 
man's  flesh  but  myself." 

^^  Mistress  of  many  men,"  said  Mrs.  Snow* 
drop,  with  equal  courtesy,  <^  permit  me  to 
whisper  a  word  in  that  sow's  ear  of  yourSi  His 
ludship^s  flesh  is  no  meat  for  such  a  low  trull 
as  you.     Ah,  pah !  where's  my  scent-bottle  ?" 

**  Take  that  instead  on  your  grog-blossomed 
smeller,"  said  Poll,  giving  her  opponent  a  stre- 
nuous rap  on  her  nose. 

^'  Swallow  your  false  teeth  for  blue  pills,*^ 
said  the  lady  with  the  delicate  name,  delivering 
a  well-intentioned  and  a  well-executed  blow 
upon  Poll's  very  handsome  mouth. 

Jack  was  between  the  combatants  in  a  moment. 
Miss  Scrivener  commenced  screaming,  and 
Susan  recovered  her  senses  very  suddenly.  The 
officer  of  the  watch  came  forward,  and  looking 
down  into  the  waist,  commanded  silence,  or- 
dered  the  deck  to  be  cleared,  and  threatened 
the  two  lady  combatants  with  instant  expulsion 
from  the  ship,  if  they  dared  to  renew  the  dis* 
turbance.      This    silenced    the  fray  for    the 


JACK   ASHOBB.  285 

moment.  Miss  Scrivener  was  conducted  to  her 
father^  who  was  still  on  the  quarter-deck^  whilst 
Jack  Truepenny,  accomp^iied  by  Poll  and  Sue^ 
went  down  to  the  lower  deck,  to  put  on  his  best 
toggery  in  his  berth  ;  and  Mrs.  Snowdrop  was 
left  to  enlighten  Jack's  messmates  in  her  own 
peculiar  manner,  as  to  Jack^s  sudden  eTevatioD 
to  rank  and  fortune; — telling  them,  among  other 
miracles,  that  when  he  was  married  she  was  sure 
that  her  daughter  was  to  be  **  my  lady,^  though 
she  confessed  that,  b^ng  only  Jack's  mother-in- 
htw,  she  herself  would  be  no  more  than  a  countess. 
All  this  wonderful  news  was  but  ill  under* 
stood  by  the  jolly  Jack  Tars  of  the  Old  Glory ; 
yet  there  was  not  a  man  among  them  who  did 
not^  from  the  very  bottom  of  his  heart,  rgoice 
at  the  good  fortune  of  his  shipmate.  Still  they 
bad  such  innate  sense  of  high  breeding,  that, 
during  the  time  John  Truepenny  was  making 
his  last  toilette  on  board,  not  one  among  them 
intruded  upon  him.  In  fact,  so  far  as  they 
were  concerned,  he  was  never  left  so  completely 
alone.    Even    his  messmates  already  treated 


236  JACK    ASHORE. 

him  with  a  distant  respect,  that  said,  as  well  as 
deportment  could  speak,  '^  We  do  not  intend  to 
take  any  advantage  of  the  past  familiarity  that 
has  subsisted  between  us." 

In  the  mean  time  Sir  John  was,  whilst  dress- 
ing, with  all  his  mother  wit — and  he  had  a  sen- 
sible man's  share  of  it— endeavouring  fully  to 
comprehend  his  new  position  in  all  its  bearings. 
He  had  already  understood  that  he  had  attained 
rank  and  wealth,  but  the  elevation  of  the  one, 
and  the  extent  of  the  other,  were  still  mysteries 
to  him;  and  how  he  should  comport  himself 
under  his  new  relations  was  the  greatest  mystery 
of  alL  As  yet,  everything  appeared  to  him  to 
be  a  dream.  He  remembered  how  he  had 
been,  in  a  manner  so  magical,  compromised  in 
the  abduction  of  the  figure-head  of  the 
Glory,  which  he  still  believed  only  to  have 
been  a  dream,  whilst  his  captain  and  facts 
seemed  to  prove  it  to  have  been  reality ;  and  he 
now  strongly  suspected  that  all  that  was  pass- 
ing before  his  eyes  was  something  of  the  same 
description.  Jack,  however,  reasoned  with  him- 


JACK    A8H0BK*  987 

sdf  thus :  **  Supposing  all  this  is  a  dream, 
why,  like  a  man  of  sense,  let  roe  make  the  most 
of  it    Long  may  it  last  P 

Having  thus  made  up  his  mind,  he  went 
about  his  little  affairs  in  silence,  but  cheerfully. 

Not  so  Polly.  She  was  all  animation,  motion, 
and  clack.  She  had  already  told  Jack  at  what 
church  they  were  to  be  married,  and  when — 
had  described  the  chariot  —  had  invited  the 
guests — and  made  arrangements  at  least  for  the 
next  two  years.  But  still  John  spoke  not. 
Poll  then  began  to  turn  up  her  pretty  nose  at 
all  her  old  friends— to  profess  an  utter  con- 
tempt for  salt  junk — ^an  abhorrence  of  Irish 
pori^  and  a  thorough  loathing  at  dock-yard 
baked  biscuit — whilst,  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  she  declared  that  the  smell  of  tar 
was  an  abomination  to  her.  Jack  went  on 
dressing. 

She  then  turned  round  and  began  to  abuse 
old  Giles  Grimm,  for  three  special  reasons; 
firstly,  because  he  was  ugly ;  secondly,  because 
he  had  not  saved  her  enough  of  grog;  (for,  whilst 
this  was  going  on,  the  ship's  company  had  been 


238  JACK   ASHOEE. 

piped  to  dinner) ;    and  thirdly,  because  as  yet 
he  had  not  called  her  **  my  lady." 

"Hold  your  jaw,  PoUP  These  were  the 
first  words  Jack  spoke  since  be  had  been  below, 
and  they  were  spoken  in  such  a  tone  that  Pcdly, 
with  all  her  intrepidity,  stood  rebuked 

But  where^  all  this  time,  was  Susan  Snow- 
drop? She  sat  alone,  weeping,  behind  the 
canvass  that  screened  her  off  from  the  general 
berth,  and  the  sanctity  of  which  had  never  been 
violated.  She  had,  at  least,  learned  this  from 
her  assiduous  course  of  novel  reading,  that  her 
dearly  beloved  sailor  John  was  now  as  far  above 
her,  as  she  or  her  mother  thought  that  she 
had  been  above  him.  She  felt  all  the  desola- 
tion of  her  situation.  She  had  now  nothing  to 
offer  him,  nothing  to  sacrifice  to  him,  but  a 
foolish,  romantic  heart.  She  had  not  even  any 
great  share  of  personal  beauty  to  render  her 
acceptable  in  his  eyes.  She  had  once  fondly 
hoped  that,  in  time,  she  should  have  won  upon 
his  affections,  weaned  him  from  illicit  amours, 
married  him,  and  ultimately  have  reconciled 
her  mother  to  the  match ;  and  then  more  than  a 


JACK    A8HOBX.  88D 

ampetenoe  would  have  awaited  them,  to  make 
the  rest  of  their  lives  as  bappy  as  Jack's  honest 
heart  and  her  own  devotion  to  him  gave  her  a  cer- 
taiDty  of  becoming.  But  now,  what  sacrifice  was 
it  in  the  power  of  the  poor  wretch  to  make  ? 
Nothing — bitterly  she  felt  it — ^nothing.  She 
had  taken  a  most  outrageous,  a  most  unmaidenly 
step — had  made  herself  ridiculous  in  the  eyes 
of  all  who  knew  the  real  facts,  and  degraded  in 
the  opinion  of  all  those  who  did  not,  only  to 
•ee  the  man  whom  she  more  than  idolised  borne 
off  in  triumph  by  the  vulgar  or  the  in- 
terested ;  and  had  left  no  other  impression  on  her 
lover  bnt  a  manly  pity  for  a  maddish,  foolishly 
Umd  girL 

Then  did  her  poor  breaking  heart  bitterly 
yearn  after  rank,  riches,  and,  above  aU,  beauty. 
At  lei^^,  her  grief  merged  into  a  wildness  of 
misery ;  her  sobs,  that  at  first  were  low  and  at 
long  intervals,  became  more  frequent  and  con- 
vulsive, and  her  stifled  moans  louder  and  more 
kmd,  till  they  ofiended  the  fastidious  ears  of 
Miss  Mary  Macannister. 

<<  Come  out  of  that,  you  snivelling,  filthy- 


240  JACK    ASHORE. 

nosed  trollop,  and  don't  spoil  Jack^s  glory 
by  your  infernal  whimpering.  Har  done,  will 
ye?" 

**  Hold  your  jaw,  Poll,  or  PU  smash  it  i^ 
said  Jack,  speaking  for  the  second  time.  Poll 
bristled  up,  and  was  going  to  be  very  imperti- 
nent ;  but  seeing  John  with  a  savage  industry 
turning  up  the  cuffs  of  his  jacket,  and  knowing 
well  the  meaning  of  this  ominous  sign,  she 
changed  suddenly  from  vinegar  at  the  boiling 
heat  to  cool  cream,  and  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  but  smiles,  and  heard  but  **  My  dear 
Jacks,*'  '^  loveys,^'  and  all  those  little  endear- 
ing epithets  that  come  doubly  dear  from  hand- 
some lips. 

Behold  Jack  rigged  out  in  his  very  best 
man-of-war's  attire -— clean,  bright,  and  com- 
pact in  his  dress,  and  actually  magnificent  in  his 
person.  The  most  fastidious  court  belle  would, 
with  the  exception  of  his  large  and  tar-soiled 
hands,  have  pronounced  him  faultless.  But 
Jack  was  the  least  joyous  of  the  few  around 
him.  He  became  even  melancholy,  and  gently 
repulsing  the  little  cajolleries  of  Poll,  he  sate 


I 

if 

I 


JACK   A8H0BE.  241 

bimself  down,  with  an  air  absolutely  melan- 
cbolj,  upon  the  carriage  of  the  gun.  The 
grief  of  Susan  behind  the  screen  was  still  audi- 
ble, though  its  loud  expression  had  been  forci- 
Uj  controlled  after  the  gentle  admonition  of 
Pdly.  The  gloom  on  Jack's  countenance  grew 
more  settled  and  deep,  and  his  under-lip  began 
to  quiver*  At  length,  slapping  his  thigh  vio- 
leotly  with  his  awful  spread  of  hand,  in  his 
own  peculiar  phraseology  he  sang  out — 

*^  May  I  be  jammed  between  the  main-yard 
sod  the  trestle-trees  if  I  can  stand  this.  May 
every  breath  in  my  body  be  worked  out  with 
&  hand-pump  if  I'm  not  taken  flat  aback, 
wd  my  heart  is  striking  eight  bells  as  fast 
as  lawyers  go  to  h — ^11 1  Come  here,  Susan 
dear — come  here,  my  darling.  Poll,  keep 
your  distance  just  now,  or  stand  clear; 
-*-belay  with  your  jaw  tackle.  Come,  sit  on 
my  knee,  Susan.  Not  a  word,  Poll— it  is  the 
first  time,  and  if  you  don't  behave  yourself,  it 
diaVt  be  the  last — ^You  have  been  a  sweet, 
kind  fool  to  me,  dear  Susan;  now  tell  me, 
darling,    what   poor  Jack   can    do    for  you. 

VOL.   I.  M 


242  JACK    A8HOBE. 

They  tell  me  that  I  am  rich,  and  other  non- 
sense — it  may  be  all  moonshine,  or  it  may  not 
— but,  rich  or  poor,  Jack  will  always  remember 
you,  Sue;  and  if  I  could  only  make  you  hap- 
pier, I'm  the  man  that  '11  do  it,  blow  high  or 
blow  low.  Come, .  let  me  swab  your  pretty 
peepers.  Stagger  me !  if  there  isn't  the  joys 
of  a  thousand  glasses  of  half-and-half  in  each 
eye,  and  I  never  saw  it  before !" 

When  John  had  drawn  Susan  on  his  knees, 
at  first  she  a  little  resisted,  but  gradually  she 
seemed  to  feel  a  pleasure  in  the  situation,  and 
her  left  arm  grew  more  strict  in  its  embrace  as 
it  encircled  his  manly  neck.  As  he  spoke  she 
looked  up  anxiously  into  his  face,  her  features 
became  tranquil,  and  at  length  assumed  an  ex- 
pression of  heavenly  calm  and  resignation,  and 
a  smile,  that  actually  went  all  through  Jack, 
and  shook  him  like  electricity,  told  him  how 
blissful  it  was  to  be  thus  cherished  by  him. 
But  she  spoke  not — she  could  not  speak. 

**  Now  do,  Susan,  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for 
you.  If  your  mother  will  not  be  a  mother  to 
you,  and  take  you  to  a  mother'^s  home,  I'll  buy 


JACK    ASHOBE.  243 

you  a  bouse,  and  you  shall  have  servants  to 
vait  upon  you,  and  as  many  books  to  read  as 
money  will  buy ;  and  1*11  begin  by  buying  up 
all  the  circulating  libraries  in  Portsmouth, 
Gospcnrt,  Portsea,  and  the  half-way  houses  into 
the  bargain.     There,  Sue  I" 

^  Money  and  fools  are—''  began  Poll. 

**  I  say,  father  Grim,  just  gag  that  , 

will  ye,  for  a  spell!  Lash  this  marlingspike 
with  a  bit  of  spun-yam  across  her  damnable 
jaws. — So,  Susan,  when  ye  have  got  the  house, 
and  the  ship-load  of  books,  and  the  servants, 
and  all  right  and  tight  like  a  king's  yatch, 
youllget  a  sweetheart — blowed  but  you  will — 
a  better  fellow  than  Jack,  deucedly, — that  is 
to  say,  barring  seamanship — I  won't  give  in  to 
any  for  that  ere.  And  then,  you  know,  Susan,'' 
(and  Jack  grew  quite  cheerful,)  **  you'll  forget 
all  this  nonsense^  and  me  too— a  rough,  un- 
lamed,  drinking,  rollicking,  good-for-nothing 
varmint — always  bating  seamanship.  Won't 
you,  Susan  ?" 

But  Susan  only  clung  the  closer  to   Jack, 
and  embraced  him  the  more  hysterically. 

M  2 


244  JACK    ASHORE. 

**  But  why  take  on  so,  my  darling  ?  Do  you 
think  I'm  not  grateful  to  you,  Sue  ?  Shall  I 
ever  forget  the  dear,  dear  girl  that  wished  to 
die  with  me,  and  for  me?  dash  my  eyes  out  if 
I  ever  shall.  Shall  I  ever  forget  the  dear,  dear 
girl  that  covered  me  with  her  delicate  tender 
body,  when  they  were  going  to  cut  my  flesh  in 
strips,  and  I  should  have  left  the  hooker 
scarred  and  disgraced  but  for  you  ?  May  dogs 
eat  my  living  heart,  if  I  ever  will.  But  what 
can  I  do,  Sue?  X)o  you  want  me  to  marry 
you  ?     Speaks  Susan,  speak  !^ 

But  here  Jack's  impassioned  flow  of  words 
was  interrupted  by  the  noise  of  the  earnest 
battle  that  was  raging  between  Giles  Grim  and 
Miss  Mary  Macannister,  the  latter  person  re- 
sisting very  ungratefully  all  Grim's  eflbrts  to 
give  her  tongue  a  little  salutary  repose. 

"  No,  no,  Sue,^  continued  Jack,  "  donno  ye 
think  of  it.  Get  a  better  fellow  than  me.  Be- 
sides,  there's  that  virago  with  the  iron  in  her 
teeth — ^she  expects  I'll  make  an  honest  homan  of 
her — and  I've  said  as  much  afore  I  know'd  you, 
Sue." 


JACr  ASHOBK.  245 

Poll  grew  suddenly  amiable  and  very  quiet 
^  And  a  regler  sailor^s  word's  his  bond.    Be- 
sides, I  donU  quite  zactly  know  whether  all  this 
ben^t   a  sort  of  bamboozle,  and  my  good  luck 
all  on  the  other  side  of  noman's  land.** 

^  Poll's  sunshine,  and  belayed  her  jawing- 
tacks,**  reported  old  Grim,  methodically. 

**  Cast  off  P  said  Jack,  and  Polly  was  re- 
stored to  the  powers  of  speech. 

*'  Now,  Sue^  darling,  I  can't  think  all  this  is 
real — ^* 

But  Jack  was  interrupted  by  the  first  proof 
of  the  reality  of  his  good  fortune^  by  the  ap- 
proach of  Captain  Firebrass^s  steward,  with  his 
hat  in  his  hand, — for  which  hat  he  had  no  occa- 
sion, but  merely  to  show  that  in  his  hand  he 
carried  it — who,  making  a  very  low  bow,  de- 
livered,  without  the  slightest  approach   to   a 
smiley  and  with  a  tone  of  the  most  humble  re- 
spect, this  message :  *^  Captain  Firebrass  pre- 
sents his  compliments  to  Sir  John  Truepenny, 
and  if  Sir  John  has  finished  his  toilette,  would 
be  happy  to  see  Sir  John  in  his  cabin  to  take 
a  luncheon  before  Sir  John  goes  on  shore.^' 


24f6  JACIC    ASHORE. 

Jack  was  taken  flat  aback ;  he  took  off  bis 
bat  to  tbe  steward,  twitcbed  one  of  bis  curling 
fore-locks,  scraped  bis  rigbt  foot  backwards, 
and  tben  delivered  bimself  of  tbe  following 
answer : — 

"  My  bumble  duty  to  Captain  Firebrass, 
and  thougb  my  twiligbt  is  not  finished,  seeing 
as  bow  it  is  only  one  o'clock  i^  tb'  afternoon, 
I'll  tumble  up  tbe  after  batcbways  in  less  time 
tban  you  can  brace  round  at  let-go-and-baul, 
and  wait  upon  bis  bonour^s  honour.  Look 
after  Sue,  you  Poll  and  Grim.  Poor  thing ! 
she's  off  again  ; — send  for  the  doctor,  and  get 
her  mother  down." 

And  thus  speaking,  with  no  very  great 
alacrity  in  bis  steps,  and  not  very  light  at 
heart,  he  proceeded  to  tbe  captain's  cabin, 
attended  by  tbe  obsequious  steward,  who 
had  taken  that  opportunity  of  slipping  a  letter 
into  Jack's  hand,  modestly  recommending  him- 
self as  tbe  most  fit  person  in  tbe  world  for  being 
the  future  major-domo  of  Sir  John  Truepenny's 
establishments  in  town  and  country.  Jack 
shoved  it  into  bis  pocket  with  the  true  indif^ 


JACK  A8HO&E*  247 

ference  of  a  great  man  who  has  good  things  to 
bestow  upon  suitors,  and  thus,  unconsciously, 
made  one  of  the  first  acts  of  his  elevation  quite 
en  riffle. 


248  JACX  ASHoaB. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Jack's  going  on  shore— Maoh  arguficadon,  which  goes  only 
to  prove  Jack  a  good  fellow — ^llie  ladies  in  his  way,  and 
thus  he  is  waylaid,  as  he  makes  his  way  to  land — On 
the  way  gets  into  cold  water,  which  gets  him  into  hot  water 
—A  lawyer's  speculations. 

The  meeting  in  the  cabin  was  as  singular  as 
the  strange  combination  of  circumstances  might 
well  have  been  supposed  to  produce.  Jack 
hitched  himself  in  sideways,  very  much  abashed 
and  a  little  bewildered  ;  and  before  he  could 
well  distinguish  all  those  before  whom  he  was 
standing  so  akwwardlj,  his  eyes  fell  upon  Sir 
Edward  Fortintower,  and  he  immediately  began 
scraping,  bowing,  and  tugging  at  his  fore-lock 
to  him  with  all  possible  assiduity. 

**  Sir  John  Truepenny,"*  said  Sir  Edward, 


JACK   ASHORE.  249 

taking  him  by  the  hand,  ^*  I  am  most  happy  to 
be  the  first  to  congratulate  you." 

But  Jack  respectfully  wriggled  his  hand 
from  out  of  that  of  his  brother  baronet,  and 
continued  scraping  his  foot,  saying,  at  the  same 
time,  *'  Your  honour's  goodness  is  too  good  to 
me.  I  have  thought  upon  your  honour  a  thou- 
sand times.  Grod  Almighty  bless  your  honour 
for  great  kindness  to  an  ilUused  sailor.  1*11 
serve  your  honour  to  the  last  day  of  my  life.*^ 

Every  one  looked  surprised  excepting  Sir 
Edward,  until  Jack,  in  his  own  way,  reported 
that  when  he  was  on  shore  one  day  at  Lisbon, 
and  half-seas-over,  he  had  been  set  upon  by  a 
party  of  assassinating  Portuguese,  and  would 
have  been,  in  all  probability,  murdered,  had  it 
not  been  for  the  timely  and  gallant  interference 
of  Sir  Edward,  who  happened  to  be  at  that 
place  on  a  yachting  excursion. 

When  this  little  episode  was  over,  after 
much  persuasion.  Jack  was  induced  to  fix  him- 
self, by  fidgetting  on  the  extreme  comer  of 
one  of  the  chairs,  and  Captain  Firebrass  thus 
explained  to  Jack  his  present  situation. 

M  5 


250  JACK    A8H0BE. 

**  Sir  John  Truepenny — I  was  just  going  to 
flog  you,  Sir  John — but  that's  neither  here  nor 
there — let  bye-gones  be  bye-gone;  you  won't 
think  the  worse  of  me  for  that,  because  you 
know,  Sir  John,  you  deserved  it ;  but  all  my 
family — ^little  boys  and  girls  and  all — ^the  glory 
of  the  Old  Glory — all  gone  to  glory,  I  suppose, 
now.  How  could  you,  Sir  John  ? — ^made  you 
captain  of  the  forecastle,  and  to  use  me  in  that 
way." 

"  Your  honour,"  said  Sir  John  Truepenny, 
laying  his  hand  emphatically  upon  his  heart, 
**  as  I  am  a  true  seaman,  though  I  confess  I 
do  remember,  confusically,  something  going  on 
in  the  head,  I'm  as  innocent  of  the  robbery  of 
them  ere  gods  and  goddesses,  and  little  god- 
disees,  as  his  honour^s  honour,  the  lord  admiral, 
who  is  sitting  there." 

*'  I  most  implicitly  believe  you,  Sir  John 
Truepenny." 

"  I  protest.  Captain  Firebrass — ^"  began  Lord 
Gambroon. 

*'  Not  another  word,  my  lord  ;  as  I  said  be- 
fore, they  are  gone  to  glory,  and  I've  got  a 


JACK    A8UORR.  251 

fiddle-head  instead  of  a  family.  Now,  Sir 
John,  listen  to  me.  It  has  been  proved,  be- 
yand  the  possibility  of  moral,  or,  what  is 
still  better,  legal  doubt,  that  you  are  not  only 
the  heir-at-law,  but  also  the  heir,  under  the 
will  of  Sir  Mortimer  Fortintower,  your  grand- 
uncle,  to  all  his  immense  estates.  These  estates 
have  been  hitherto  enjoyed  by  that  noble,  gal- 
lant gentleman.  Sir  Edward  Fortintower.*^ 

"  Let  him  enjoy  them  still.'*' 

'*  Silence,  Sir  John  ;  you  are  still  under  his 
majesty'*s  pennant.  This  noble,  gallant,  and 
upright  gentleman,  immediately  he  heard  of 
your  existence  from  a  rascally  attcnney,  who 
wished  to  hold  this  knowledge  over  him  in  ter^ 


rorem—^ 


'*  Roar  em  !  roar  who,  your  honour  ?'' 
^'  I  mean,  to  keep  this  fact  to  frighten  him 
into  doing  all  the  dirty  scoundrel  wished.  This 
good  gentleman,  your  cousin,  employs  another 
lawyer«-4m  honest  one,  he  says — the  only  foolish 
thing  I  know  of  him— this  honest  lawyer — hum, 
honest ! — to  find  out  the  real  truth »  and  he  did 
find  it  out     So  at  once  your  cousin,  without 


252  JACK   ASHOBE. 

costing  you  a  farthing,  is  ready  to  surrender 
everything  up  to  you ;  and  the  greatness,  the 
sublimity  of  this  conduct,  you  will  one  day 
know,  when  you  know  what  the  uncertainty  of 
the  law  is,  and  what,  also,  is  possession  in  the 
eye  of  this  uncertain  law.^ 

^*  Noble,  noble  !"  exclaimed  several  of  Jack's 
officers,  who  had  been  invited  into  the  cabin  to 
witness  this  extraordinary  scene. 

**  It  is  a  christian,  pious  conduct :  the  Lord 
will  reward  him  a  thousand-fold,'^  ejaculated 
the  rear-admiral. 

"  But,  yer  honour,  'spose  I  was  dead,''  said 
Sir  John  Truepenny,  scratching  his  titled 
head,  "  whose  'd  be  all  these  here  estates  ?" 

*^  Your  cousin's.  Sir  Edward's,  unques- 
tionably." 

''  Oh !  stiffle  us !"  said  Jack,  <'  it's  all  as 
clear  as  mud.  What  need  more  palaver,  your 
honners  ?  I  have  no  right  to  a  pigstye,  or  as 
much  grass  as  would  feed  a  fly,  of  these  here 
estates;  seeing  as  how,  ye  see,  yer  honours, 
that  hadn't  that  brave  gentleman  saved  my  life 
why,  I  wouldn'^t  have  been  living,  thafs  all. 
So,  to  speak  properly,  my  life's  his'n,  and  as 


JACK   ABHORS.  253 

this  here  depends  upoD  my  life,  and  my  life  is 
his'n  more  than  mine,  why,  the  estates  is  his'n 
more  than  mine, — that's  what  I  call  chop-logic 
for  ye,  that  knocks  ye  down  with  the  truth  on't, 
iike  a  point-blank  four-and  twenty.  So,  your 
honours,  if  so  be  you'd  just  get  me  a  liberty- 
ticket  for  a  week  to  get  married  to  Poll,  why 
Jack's  content,  and  no  more  need  be  said 
about  it." 

At  this  cutting  of  the  difficulty  there  were 
olence  and  smiling,  but  the  silence  and  the 
smiles  both  proceeded  from  approbation  at 
Jack^s  straightforward  and  grateful  feelings. 
At  length  Sir  Edward  rose,  and  coming  to 
Jack,  took  hold  of  both  hands,  and  said  to  him, 
not  without  emotion,  ^*  Cousin  John,  I  am  very 
proud  of  you — look  upon  me  henceforward  as 
your  relation  and  friend.  But,  dear  cousin, 
you  talk  with  all  the  simplicity  and  innocence 
of  a  child,  whilst  you  possess  the  most  noble 
feelings  of  man.  I  mean  what  I  say.  Though 
you  may  be  most  willing  to  bestow,  I  cannot 
receive.  Now,  my  good  cousin,  listen  in  silence 
to  what  your  excellent  captain  is  going  to  say 


254  JACK  ASHOBE. 

to  you  ;  for  even  this  very  hour  it  is  necessary 
for  you  to  do  a  very  important  act,  indispen^ 
sable  to  your  new  station  and  rank  in  life/* 

Captain  Firebrass  then  proceeded,  in  mingled 
phraseology,  making  what  was,  in  the  language  of 
the  law,  unintelligible  to  Jack,  plain  by  nautical 
illustrations,  that  he  must  immediately  choose 
an  attorney — that  there  were  two  on  board — 
and  he  then  detailed  how  each  of  them  had 
acted,  and  that  to  Mr.  Scrivener  he  owed  it 
entirely  that  he  remained  so  long  in  the  humble 
yet  honourable  situation  of  able  seaman  in  his 
majesty's  navy. 

Jack  was  prompt  in  making  up  his  mind, 
and  in  passing  sentence;  for  he  elected  Mr. 
Singleheart,  and  concluded  with  a  request  that 
the  admiral  and  his  captain  would  keel-haul 
Mr.  Scrivener,  or  at  least  suspend  him  from 
the  mainyard  by  a  whip  under  the  shoulder, 
and  bob  him  up  and  down,  his  downward 
plunge  to  take  him  twelve  feet,  at  least,  below 
the  surface  of  the  water. 

It  not  being  possible  to  accede  to  tliis  very 
moderate  request,  Sir  Edward  remarked,  that, 


JACK   A8UOBE.  2o5 

for  the  sake  of  fairnessy  both  lawyers  ought  to 
be  called  in,  and  each  suffered  to  advance  his 
claims  as  to  the  direction  of  the  baronet's 
affairs.  This  being  thought  just,  they  were 
invited  to  attend— Mr.  Scrivener  accompanied 
by  his  daughter. 

Mr.  Scrivener  really  made  out  a  plausible 
case.  He  said,  and  he  said  truly,  that,  but 
for  hina.  Jack  would  never  have  emerged  from 
his  laborious  obscurity,  as  the  time  for  ad- 
vancing his  claims,  limited  by  the  will,  had 
nearly  expired.  He  spoke  of  his  activity,  his 
energy,  and  his  zeal.  But  Jack  heard  but 
little  of  his  eloquence;  for  Elfrida,  whom  her 
father  had  brought  to  assist  him,  was  now,  un- 
consciously, his  worst  foe ;  she  gazed  fixedly 
upon  the  superb-looking  sailor,  and  Jack 
thought  he  had  never  beheld  anything  so  bril- 
liant and  so  beautiful. 

Jack  got  weary  of  Mr.  Scrivener^s  harangue, 
and  cut  it  short  by  telling  him,  saving  the  pre* 
sence  of  the  company,  that  *^  he  might  go  to 
h — ^U — **  not  at  the  time  knowing  that  the  person 
upon  whom  he  had  bestowed  this  pleasant  mis- 


256  JACK    ASaOBE. 

sion  was  the  father  of  the  lady  whom  he  so 
much  admired. 

The  necessary  papers  were  produced,  and 
Jack  duly  signed  them,  constituting  Mr. 
Singleheart  his  sole  attorney  and  legal  adviser, 
as  well  as  steward  and  agent  to  his  estates; 
after  which,  all  the  company,  filling  their  glasses, 
drank  health,  long  life,  and  prosperity,  to  Sir 
John  Truepenny.  We  except,  in  this  testi- 
mony of  good-will,  Mr.  Scrivener.  He  waa^ 
however,  invited,  with  his  daughter,  to  join  the 
repast,  and  that  luncheon  proved  a  joyous  one 
to  most  of  the  party. 

Mr.  Scrivener  whispered  something  to  his 
fair  daughter,  who  had  but  little  need  of  such 
incitement  to  do  the  more  than  gracious  to- 
wards Jack.  He  was  at  once  flurried  and 
captivated.  Elfrida  Eugenia  was  more  beauti* 
ful^  delicate,  infinitely  more  refined  than  Poll, 
and  then  she  was  so  fascinatingly  dressed.  Be- 
sides, her  simple,  confiding,  and  womanly 
trusting  look  was  so  bewitching,  and  so  unlike 
and  so  superior  to  Miss  Macannister's  impudent 
and   tyrannical    beauty.      Jack  knew   himself 


JACX  A8HOXC.  357 

to  be  held  in  respect,  and  already  was  he  pre- 
pared to  be  deeply,  devotedly  in  love.  Jack's 
vanity  would  have  had  a  reef  or  two  taken  in, 
if  he  had  known  how  much  he  was  indebted  to 
his  bare  shoulders. 

Well,  the  luncheon  is  over,  the  hands  are 
tamed  up,  and  Jack,  looking  very  sheepish,  is 
standing  between  the  rear-admiral  and  his  cap- 
tain, on  the  break  of  the  quarter-deck,  in  order 
to  take  leave  of  his  shipmates.  As  there  he 
stood,  he  turned  round  to  Sir  Edward,  and 
asked  him  if  he  thought  he  might  venture  to 
give  the  ship's  company  a  hundred  pounds? 
Now  Jack's  friends  must  not  smile  at  the  nig- 
gardliness of  the  proposed  gift.  As  yet  Jack 
knew  not  the  value  of  money,  and  a  hundred 
pounds  then  appeared  in  his  eyes  a  vast  sum ; 
but  divided  among  more  than  seven  hundred 
men,  it  was  really  a  pitiful  present  to  each  in- 
dividual. 

Sir  Edward  communicated  Jack's  wish  to 
Lord  Gambroon  and  Captain  Firebrass,  and 
their  assent  was  immediately  obtained. 


258  JACK   A8HOBA. 

^^  What  are  your  old  shipmates  to  do  with 
it  ?"  said  the  captain. 

*^  Buy  grog  !**  was  the  ready  and  one-idea 
answer. 

"  No,  no/*  interposed  Lord  Gambroon ;  **  it 
would  be  a  sinful  waste  of  the  money.  Let 
them  buy  good  books  and  tracts,  and  have  a 
religious  library  for  the  use  of  the  ship.*' 

Captain  Firebrass  screwed  up  his  visage,  as 
if  attempting  to  swallow  a  bolus  too  large  for 
him,  at  this  very  sensible  proposition. 

*^  Perhaps,'^  said  he,  <*  it  would  be  the  best 
plan  to  submit  it  to  the  choice  of  the  men  them- 
selves." 

This  was  agreed  ta  In  a  few  pithy  words 
the  skipper  told  the  ship's  company  of  the 
change  in  Jack's  afiPairs,  and  of  the  hundred 
pounds  that  he  had  bestowed  upon  them  as  a 
parting  gift.  Then  the  question  for  them  to 
decide  was,  **  grog  or  tracts  ?  Now,  who 
hold  up  their  hands  for  the  good  books?" 

**  For    shame !     this    irreverence — ^"    com- 
menced his  lordship. 


JACK   ASHORE.  "259 

Not   a  single  flipper  rose  above  the  waist- 
bands. 
"  Grog  ?" 

Every  hand,  right  and  left,  was  above  the 
heads. 

"  Am  sorry  to  say,  ray  lord,  grog  has  it." 
Lord  Gambroon  made  a  few  very  proper 
and  sensible  remarks  to  the  men,  to  which  they 
listened  very  respectfully  and  attentively,  for 
they  were  happy  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
evening  jollification.  His  lordship  found,  also, 
his  indemnity  in  his  oration,  and  thus  all  parties 
seemed  satisfied. 

Having  made  a  short  fumble  of  a  speech 
with  tears  in  his  eyes.  Jack  took  leave  of  his 
shipmates  as  well  as  he  could,  and  said  he  was 
ready  to  go  on  shore ;  and  then  standing  in  the 
midst  of  the  officers  and  the  company,  put- 
ting on  a  droll  look,  he  turned  his  empty 
pockets  inside  out,  and  said,  <*Why,  gentle- 
men, d'^ye  see,  this  is  all  very  well  for  poor 
Jack  on  a  land  cruise,  because  he  can  take  up 
a  slop  jacket  of  Mr.  Abraham  Isaackson  for 
thirty   shillings    on   tick,   and    take  it  to  my 


260 


JACK    ASHORE. 


uncle^s  and  get  fifteen  in  rhino;  but  for  Sir 
John  Truepenny,  barrow-night — O  fie  !" 

At  this  ludicrous  appeal  every  hand  was 
stretched  towards  him,  and  there  was  not  one 
that  did  not  contain  a  sum  of  money.  But  the 
bag  full  of  guineas  offered  him  by  Mr.  Scri« 
vener  was  by  far  the  largest  Jack  eyed  it 
wistfully ;  but  the  other,  Jack's  appointed 
lawyer,  Mr.  Singleheart,  interfered,  whereupon 
a  fierce  altercation  ensued  between  the  two 
legal  gentlemen. 

In  the  midst  of  this,  Jack  had  recourse  to 
Sir  Edward,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  his 
guardian  angel.  When  Sir  Edward  understood 
that  Jack  could  write  tolerably  well,  he  ex- 
plained to  him  the  nature  of  banking,  and  the 
use  of  a  check-book — told  him  that  there  were 
two  thousand  pounds  lodged  for  his  use  at  the 
Portsmouth  bank,  whilst  the  ready  money  at 
his  disposal  at  the  banker^s  in  London  was 
much  more  considerable;  and  advised  him  to 
take  a  few  guineas  for  his  present  use  from  his 
attorney. 

Jack  took  his  first  lesson  in  the  art  of  expen- 


JACK    ASHORE.  861 

diture  remarkably  well.  Then  his  cousin  pro- 
ceeded to  give  him  much  good  advice,  and 
concluded  by  telling  him  that  he  would  not 
go  on  shore  with  him,  lest  it  should  be  thought 
that  he  strove  to  control  him,  and  lest  it  should 
be  said  that  Jack  was  not  a  free  agent ;  but  he 
told  him  that  he  would  remain  a  short  time  at 
Portsmouth  to  see  how  he  went  on,  and  as  he 
behaved  himself,  he  would  visit  him  or  not 

It  was  now  arranged  that  Sir  John  True- 
penny was  to  goon  shore  with  his  attorney  in  the 
six-oared  galley  ;  and  then,  shaking  hands  with 
all  on  the  quarter-deck,  he  prepared  to  depart. 
But  we  cannot  let  him  take  leave  without  re- 
cording Lord  Gambroon's  parting  address,  the 
more  especially,  as  his  lordship's  presence  will 
not  again  be  required  in  our  nautical  drama. 

**  Captain  Firebrass,^  said  he,  **  you  have 
borne  me  great  enmity,  and  I  have  returned  it 
only  with  good  offices,  for  the  sake  of  Him 
whom  I  serve.  You  have  said  jeering  things 
of  me,  and  I  have  spoken  in  praise  of  you,  as 
an  officer  brave  and  zealous,  for  that  commenda- 
tion you  have  deserved.  Now,  tell  me,  my  friend 


262  JACK  ASHORE. 

— because  I  am  anxious  about  the  life  to  oome^ 
have  you  found  me  deficient  in  any  of  my 
duties  in  the  life  that  is?  Have  I  been 
wanting  in  the  heat  of  battle  or  in  the  lei- 
sure of  peace,  in  the  storm  or  in  the  calm  ? 
Then,  why  not  do  me  the  justice  that  I  am  will* 
ing  to  do  not  only  to  you,  but  to  all  men?^ 

"  Henceforward,  my  lord,  I  will,*  said  Cap- 
tain Firebrass,  solemnly. 

**  It  is  well — we  are  friends.  Now,  young 
man,"  turning  to  Sir  John  Truepenny, 
^^you  are  like  unto  a  brand  flung  into  a 
fiery  furnace.  I  advise  you  to  watch  and 
pray.  Eschew  the  company  of  the  dissolute 
and  evil.  Listen  to  the  words  of  your  honour- 
able cousin,  who  is  an  upright  man,  and ,  above 
all,  study  these  goodly  and  godly  writings.**^ 

Before  Jack  knew  well  where  he  was,  he 
found  himself  hugging  in  his  arms  a  large 
bundle  of  religious  tracts,  put  into  them  by 
somebody,  he  did  not  well  know  who. 

Having  shaken  hands  with  Jack,  and  bid 
God  to  bless  him,  the  guard  of  honour  was 
summoned,  and  the  rear-admiral  departedln 
the  Glory's  barge  for  his  own  ship. 


JACK    ASHOBE.  263 

Instead  of  Sir  John  going  on  shore  in  a  quiet 
and  decent  manner  with  his  own  lawyer,  when 
he  reached  the  middle  deck  on  his  waj  to  the 
entering  port,  which  was  the  occupation  of  half 
an  hour,  as  there  was  not  a  man,  woman,  or 
boy  in  the  ship  who  would  let  him  go  over  the 
side  until  he  and  she  had  shaken  hands  with 
him,  he  found  himself  intercepted  by  Mrs. 
Snowdrop.  She  laid  violent  fists  upon  him, 
but  he  resisted  both  persuasion  and  violence 
until  he  had  effected  a  compromise  with  her, 
that  Poll  should  go  on  shore  in  the  same  boat. 
In  this,  the  huge  bum-boat  woman  was  obliged 
to  acquiesce.  Susan,  ill  and  pale,  had  been 
placed  in  the  boat  some  time  before,  and  she 
found,  screened  by  the  green  bower,  that  quiet 
and  repose  which  was  then  so  needful  to  her. 

At  length  they  shoved  off.  The  huzzas 
were  tremendous;  and  three  'of  the  loudest 
cheers  ever  heard  was  the  farewell  of  the 
Glory.  The  news  had  now  spread  through 
the  fleet,  and  the  seamen  had  obtained  leave  to 
cheer  him  as  he  passed  each  ship.  It  was  a 
holiday  and  a  day  of  triumph.     The  various 


264  JACK   A8HORB. 

bands  in  the  boats  made  joyous  though  dis- 
cordant music,  and  all  was  mirth  and  revelry. 

As  Jack  passed  down  the  fleet,  he  stood  up 
with  his  hat  in  his  hand  and  returned  the 
cheers ;  he  then  sat  down,  and — woe  to  poor 
Jack  ! — Mrs.  Snowdrop  produced  a  large  case- 
bottle  of  smuggled  cognac,  so  powerful,  so 
smooth,  and  so  intoxicating — ^it  was  ^*  just  like 
love*' — ^infinitely  more  like  than  **  yonder  rose," 
or  any  rose  near  or  afar. 

Sir  Edward  saw  all  this,  and  shook  his  head 
sorrowfully.  Then  pulling  alongside  Mr. 
Singleheart,  he  bade  him  not  lose  sight  of  his 
client,  and,  full  of  melancholy,  he  made  his  men 
give  way,  and  hasten  from  the  noisy  floating 
crowd  ;  and  landing,  he  repaired  to  his  quiet 
hotel,  and  there  shut  himself  up  for  the  evening. 

But  there  was  one  in  the  crowd  of  the  aqua- 
tic revellers,  who  was  as  sorrowful  and  as 
angry  as  disappointed  avarice  and  malice  could 
make  him,  though  his  bannered  barge  was  as 
gay,  and  in  much  better  taste,  than  the  gaudiest 
boat  of  this  plebeian  triumph.  This  afflicted 
person  was  Mr.  Scrivener.     When  seated  in 


aACX   A8HOBE.  865 

bis  gallej)  his  first  impulse  was  to  pluck  down 
the  Truepenny  flag^  the  next  to  abuse  his  sim- 
ple daughter. 

'*  Eugenia, — ^fool,  dolt,  simpleton, — ^but  the 
idiot  will  not  understand  me,-^own  with  that 
silken  gew-gaw.  Hold  your  hand  !  let  it  re- 
main— ^I  will  not  yet  strike  my  colours— 
daughter,  can  you  comprehend  me  ?  Have  you 
two  ideas  ?  You  saw  that  sailor — ^that  hand- 
some, glorious  sailor." 

<«  I  did  father-^h  I  I  did."* 

''You  looked  at  him — ^you  looked  at  him 
well — earnestly — did  you  not  devour  him  with 
your  eyes?" 

«'  Father,  I  did,** 

''  Was  he  not  beautiful  ?  as  a  man,  beautiful, 
tall,  straight,  grand,  superb,  and  so  kindly- 
looking,  bewitching,  Eugenia  ?" 

''  Glorious,  angelic !'' 

**  Worth  a  thousand  flimsy  foplings — worth 
ten  thousand  such  finical  things  as  Sir  Edward 
Fortintower— d — ^n  him  !" 

O  pa !  and  he^s  a  nice  man  too/' 

Yes,  yes  I  a  nice  man — I  mean  a  nice  man 

VOL.   I.  N 


266  JACK   A8H0BE. 

— but  what  is  that  in  oompariaon  with  this 
magnificent  sailor  ?  Besides,  this  pooivspirited 
wretdi,  this  Sir  Edward,  has  but  a  bare  five 
hundred  a  year ;  he  is,  for  a  man  of  his  habits, 
girl,  poorer  than  the  poorest  beggar  that 
ever  whimpered  for  the  dole  of  charity.  Never 
think  of  him  more,  girl,  but  when  you  want  a 
comparison  for  something  contemptible.** 

'*  He  rejected  me^  father*^ 

**  He  did — I  have  not  forgotten  it.  Miss 
Scrivener.  Now  this  handsome  sailor  that  you 
so  much  admire— let  us  talk  about  him,Eugenia. 
What  about  him  do  you  admire  most  i^ 

^^0,  pa,  everything— his  large,  large  blue 
eyes,  and  his  curly  locks — so  curly;  and  then  the 
pretty  ringlets  all  a  hanging  down  his  ruddy 
cheeks— and  his  mouth  and  teeth— did  you  ever 
see  such  a  sweet  mouth  and  teeth,  so  almost 
white,  and  which  they  would  be  but  for  the 
nasty  tobacco.** 

**  Go  on — ^never — ^go  on,  I  say.** 

**  And  then  his  smile,  O  dear  I  I  have  read 
a  great  many  novels,  fashionable  ones  too^  but 
I  never  yet  saw  that  smile  described.     Yet, 


J ACS  A€H«ms«  967 

yet,  pMf  I  don't  lik«  that  nasty  stiff*  long  pig- 
tail.'' 
^' A  trifle!  well  have  it  cut  off."" 
^*  Geintneni  crimmini !  I  wish  he'd  let  me  T 
^  He  shall,  by-and-bye,  Eageoia,  he  shall  P 
^*  Thank  yoU)  pa— I'm  so  glad^so  happy  1 
And  then,  his  skin  is  so  white— whiter  than  the 
whitest  alabaster,  purer  than  the  purest  snow, 
and  I  dare  say,  scoter  than  the  softest  down, 
-4br  I  didn't  touch  it— I  wish  I  had."" 

Then  said  the  lawyer,  in  the  softest  tones  of 
his  voices  ^  Eugenia,  dear,  should  you  like  him 
for  a  husband  ?^ 

*^  O,  father  I"  said  the  young  kdy,  holding 
down  her  head,  and  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands,  **  just  in  that  very  voice  you  asked  me 
that  very  same  question  before,  about  another ; 
and  when  1  siud  *  yes,'  you  know  how  unhappy 
it  made  us  all/' 

**  Well,  Eugenia,  don't  say  *  yes'  till  you 
have  heard  what  I  have  to  say.  This  fine 
sailor  has  suddenly  become  a  baronet,  of  a 
title  much  older  than  that  of  the  mean-spirited 
scoundrel  who  insulted  us.    This  Jack,  the  tar, 

k2 


S68  JACK   ASHORE. 

is  bow  Sir  John  Truepenny,  and  possesses  all 
the  vast  wealth  that  formerly  belonged,  or  was 
supposed  to  belong,  to  the  other.  In  worldly 
affairs  he  is  a  child ;  and  I  will  be  his  father, 
and  you  shall  be  his  wife.  We  will,  you  and 
I— mind  I  say  you  as  well  as  I— will  put  him  in 
leading-strings,  and  do  just  as  we  like  with 
him." 

*^  O  my  t  how  pure  and  pleasant  I" 

^*  So  it  is,  girl— but  you  must  play  your  part 
You  must  not  act  towards  him  as  was  proper  to 
act  towards  the  proud  Sir  Edward.  No  Italian 
music — ^no  jargon  about  botany,  and  geology, 
and  that  kind  of  rubbish.  You  need  neither 
draw,  nor  embroider,  nor  paint  on  velvet." 

•«  I'm  so  glad  r 

^  You  must  fall  into  your  lover's  ways.  You 

must  not  be  shocked  at  his  coarseness,  and  I 

think,  for  a  short  time — only  for  a  very  short 

ime — ^you  must  drink  a  little,  and-^and  swear  a 

UtUe." 

*«  O  pa  r' 

**  Little  lady-like  oaths^pretty  little  lisping 
oathSf— only  a  sort  of  little  a«b  ab,  infantine 


/ACK  A8H0RB.  269 

Bweaiiug.  I  assure  you,  some  Tery  high 
ladies  do  swear,  and  Queen  Elizabeth  swore, 
and  that  roundly  too.*' 

"^  Well,  father,  101  try.  What  shaU  I  begin 
with?* 

*^  Why,  as  thus.  Should  Sir  John  accost  you 
with  some  round  spanking  oath,  as  broad  and 
as  black  as  the  bottom  of  a  frying-pan,  you — 
yes,  you  should  answer,  *Well,  Sir  John, 
curse  my  eyes.*" 

'*  O  father,  horrible,  horrible ! — I  couldn't  for 
worlds.** 

**  Simpleton  !  you  are  not  to  say  it  that  way, 
but  mindngly,  so  that  it  may  sound  like  *  Kiss 
my  eyes;'  and  ten  to  one  but  Sir  John  bursts 
out  into  a  hoarse  laugh»  and  kisses  not  only 
your  eyes,  but  your  mouth  also.*^ 

<*  If  that  ain't  dndl !  kiss  my  eyes  !** 

"  Well  done,  girl,  but  you  must  do  better 
yet — ^for  at  present  my  meddling  in  this  bud* 
ness  has  not  only  cost  me  immense  trouble, 
time,  labour,  and  Texation,  but  I  am  confound- 
edly out  of  pocket  into  the  bargain.  When  I 
spoke  of  my  expenses  to   that    honest    fool 


S70  JACK   ASUORB. 

Singlebeert,  be  told  me  to  send  in  my  bill,  aad 
it  should  be  paid  immediately  it  was  taxed-* 
taxed  !  the  traitor  to  his  profession  I  He  well 
knows  that  the  master  will  never  allow  all  my 
outlay  for  this  boat,  the  carriage  and  four,  these 
silken  flags,  and  our  splendid  and  luxurious 
journey  to  Portsmouth.  Indeed,  as  I  acted 
amicus  non  rqgatusj  he  may  think  all  my  trou<* 
ble  and  outlay  a  work  of  supererogation,  and  not 
give  me  a  farthing,  besides  asking  some  awkward 
questions.  But  you  are  not  listening,  Miss 
Scrivener." 

^  You  were  not  talking  of  the  delightful  Sir 
John,  the  sailor  baronet.** 

*'  I  was,  miss,  but  your  foggy  brain  can  be 
acted  upon  only  by  the  senses.  Whether  you 
comprehend  me  or  not,  I  will  talk,  for  it  gives 
me  relief.  I  have  no  patience  with  you, 
still  less  with  that  noodle  Singleheart,  not  to 
have  advised  Sir  Edward  to  litigate.  Con- 
summate ass — what  a  glorious  fat  lawsuit ! — 
would  have  lasted  our  joint  lives.  Such  un- 
heard of  imbecility.  Wish  I  could  discover 
another  heir.    I  will  try,  by  heavens !    No^  no 


JAGK   ASHORB.  271 

— make  the  man  ttanry  the  girl— the  t«ry  best 
plan.  BowerHnen,  pat  the  boat  to  it»  speed — 
make  it  go  a  aea  gallop,  and  keep  us  cfose  to 
that  huge  lumpy  thing  with  the  jaok-in^tbew 
green  over  it.  Now^  Eugenia  dear,  bow  to  Sir 
John — now  smile.  By  all  that's  hideous,  that 
fat  beast  has  made  him  drunk  already ;  and 
there  is  his  infamous  girl  queening  it  like  her 
majesty  of  Sheba.  Never  mind,  Eugenia,  kiss 
your  hand  to  him,  for  see  he  notices  you.  By 
all  the  horrors  of  a  long  vacation,  he  is  going  to 
make  a  speech,  and  he  can't  stand.  My  good 
woman,  don't  abuse  us,  we  don't  know  you — 
we  are  gentlefolks,  and  friends  of  Sir  John — 
take  care  of  his  worship — hold  him  down,  or 
he'll  be  overboard — heavens  and  earth  I  there 
he  is  over !— how  the  marine  animal  snorts  and 
swims  I" 

Jack  had  fallen  or  flung  himself  overboard, 
.and  was  striking  out  for  Miss  Scrivener,  who 
was  screaming  in  the  agony  of  her  alarm  for 
his  safety.  But  Mrs.  Snowdrop  and  Poll  were 
not  so  easily  to  lose  their  prey — they  caught 
him  by  the  collar  of  his  jacket,  and  whilst  he 


273  JACK  AsaoBS* 

was  being  hauled  again  into  the  bum-boat, 
Polly  cuffed  his  ears  most  soundly,  nor  did  she 
cease  when  he  was  placed  in  his  seat— and  there 
he  sat,  dull,  stupid,  cold,  wet,  and  almost  cry- 
ing drunk.    Alas  !  poob  Jack  I 


JACK  A8HOBX.  273 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Jack's  ashore— Most  triumphant  doings — Depatations  of  the 
tribes  go  forth  to  meet  him— He  is  half  lulled  with  kind* 
ness— The  law  at  a  discount*  and  honesty  not  yet  at  par 
— A  lawyer's  soliloquy. 

As  Jack  approached  the  landing-^place  at  the 
Point  at  Portsmouth,  the  crowd  of  boats  became 
enormous.  Everything  that  could  be  pulled 
or  paddled)  went  out  to  meet  and  bring  him  in 
triumphantly.  All  that  was  low,  and  black- 
guard, and  poverty-stricken — all  that  was  im- 
pudent, and  extortionate,  and  cheating — all  who 
practised  fraud,  whether  by  cunning  or  vio- 
lence, were  ready  to  welcome  him.  It  was  the 
saturnalia  of  Jews,  rogues,  and  ladies  with  the 
name  not  to  be  mentioned  to  ears  polite. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  large  bum- 

N  6 


374  JACK   ASHORE. 

boat  that  contained  the  immortal  Jack  could 
penetrate  through  the  crowd  of  crafty  and  gain 
the  beach.  This  was  at  length  effected.  It 
was  now  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
and  most  of  the  respectable  inhabitants  had 
drawn  together,  keeping  at  some  distance  from 
the  dense  crowd,  to  witness  the  motley  scene. 
Sir  John  Truepenny,  at  last,  with  ^staggering 
gait,  blinking  eyes,  and  wonder-stricken  coun- 
tenance, supported  on  either  hand  by  the 
Amazonian  Poll  and  the  burly  bum-boat 
woman,  stepped  on  shore.  Then  arose  the 
deafening  shout  of  ^*  the  most  sweet  voices"  oT 
the  Portsmouth  mob.  The  very  air  became 
rank  with  their  breaths,  converted  into  horrible 
tumult. 

No  sooner  was  Jack  fairly  ashore,  than  no 
less  than  forty*nine  hooked-nose,  kennel-coun- 
tenanced sons  of  Israel  made  a  dead  and  most 
ferocious  set  at  our  hero.  No  hungry  wolves 
of  the  desert  ever  flung  themselves  more  fiercely 
upon  the  toil-conquered  steed,  than  did  these 
harpies  of  avarice  on  our  stupified  John.  It 
was  all  but  a  miracle  that  Jack  did  not  then 


JACK   ASRDRB.  975 

and  there  terminate  his  eventful  history.  He 
almost  met  the  fate  of  Orpheus  from  the  Thra« 
csan  women,  that  of  being  torn  limb  from  Iimb« 
Of  course,  only  some  dozen  of  these  forty«>nine 
Jews  could  lay  hands  upon  poor  Jack,  but 
those  who  could  not  touch  him  encircled  the 
others,  and  thus,  at  first,  prevented  a  rescue. 

Stout  as  was  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  and  courageous 
and  active,  as  well  as  stout,  as  was  Poll,  they 
were  thrust  aside  with  as  little  difficulty  as  a 
strong  man  finds  in  turning  a  child  from 
his  path.  Presently,  however,  they  rallied 
the  boatmen,  and  after  a  short  but  desperate 
conflict  the  tribes  were  beaten  oflp,  threatening 
all  manner  of  actions  and  damages,  and  Jack 
again  found  himself  in  custody  of  the  party 
that  had  brought  him  ashore.  But  he  was 
hurt  and  bruised,  and  his  clothes  torn  to 
tatters. 

Amidst  the  hootings,  huszaings,  and  yells, 
they  had  advanced  some  yards  from  the  beach, 
and  here  another  difficulty  arose.  The  getters- 
up  and  the  supporters  of  all  these  testimonies 
of  joy  had  no  idea  of  being  glad  gratis.  Those 


276  JACK  A8H0RB. 

in  the  boats,  especially,  who  had  made  the 
pageant  out  to  Spithead^  looked  for  remunera- 
tion, and  they  became  clamorous  {(X  it.  Jack 
was  willing  to  be  generous  so  far  as  his  ability 
permitted,  so  he  pulled  from  his  pocket  those 
of  the  guineas  that  had  not  dropped  into  the 
sea  when  he  fell  overboard ;  but  to  this  pro- 
ceeding the  two  ladies  put  in  a  vigorous  wio* 
Mrs.  Snowdrop  told  the  applicants  that  they 
must  look  to  those  who  had  hired  them,  or  in- 
duced them  to  go  on  what  she  was  now  pleased  to 
term  their  fool's  errand.  Now  this  person 
turned  out  to  be  Mr.  Scrivener,  who  had,  or 
the  men  of  his  boat,  in  the  exhilaration  of  the 
moment,  said  that  which  almost  amounted  to  a 
promise  of  payment.  ^^  Look  to  the  lawyers,'' 
was  now  the  cry ;  and  to  them  they  looked 
accordingly — they  did  more  —  they  began  to 
pelt  them ;  and,  not  being  in  the  mind  to  discri- 
minate,  both  Mr.  Scrivener  and  Mr.  Singleheart 
were  obliged  to  trust  for  their  safety  from  further 
violence  to  a  rapid  retreat,  each  of  them  covered 
with  filth. 
Mr.  Singleheart  had  endeavoured  to  keep  as- 


JACK   A8UOEE.  277 

close  to  his  client  as  he  could,  in  order  to  rescue 
him  from  the  claws  of  the  vultures  that  had 
determined  to  make  him  their  prey.  What 
Mr.  Scrivenei^s  motives  were,  we  well  know. 
Both,  however,  were  beaten  off  the  field; 
and  it  was  owing  solely  to  the  beauty  and 
the  elegant  dress  of  Miss  Scrivener,  that  she 
found  protection  from  a  superior  naval  o£Bcer, 
after  she  had  been  forced  from  her  father  in  the 
fray.  This  gentleman  conveyed  her  in  safety 
to  her  hotel. 

By  this  time,  the  crowd  had  much  increased, 
and  the  commotion  became  general, — ^a  state  of 
things  not  to  be  suffer^  in  a  well-govemed  gar- 
risoned town.  A  posse  of  constables  was  assem- 
bled, and,  assisted  by  a  captain^s  guard  of  marines, 
the  crowd  was  dispersed,  and  Jack,  or  rather 
Jack*s  custodiers,  were  at  length  free  agents. 

Mrs.  Snowdrop  wished  to  convey  Sir  John 
to  her  own  house  at  Portsea.  This  was  strenu- 
ously opposed  by  Poll ;  but  as  she  had  no 
house  of  her  own,  it  was  finally  settled,  for  that 
night,  that  they  should  go  to  ^^  that  tavern,**  to 
use  her  own  language,   *^  where  the  midship- 


278  JACK   ASHORE. 

men  leaves  their  chestesses  when  they  can't 
pay  for  their  breakfastesses-^she  meant  the  Blue 
Postesses.*^ 

This  was  assented  to,  and  to  the  Blue  Posts 
they  accordingly  went,  now  accompanied  by 
Susan,  who,  dispirited,  broken-hearted,  and 
ashamed  of  her  position,  of  her  mother,  and 
herself,  asked  permission  to  retire  to  the  ma- 
ternal abode.  This  was  peremptorily  refused , 
and  she  was  thus  compelled  to  be  an  inmate 
with  the  rest  of  her  party.  Two  constables 
were  placed  at  the  door  of  the  tavern,  to  prevent 
intrusions  and  keep  off  the  crowd ;  and  Sir  John 
Truepenny,  very  sick,  with  a  dreadful  head- 
ache, much  bruised  and  hurt,  was  undressed 
by  Mary  Macannister,  and,  on  the  first  day  of 
his  glory,  put  to  bed  at  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon. 

Let  us  return  to  Sir  Edward  Fortintower, 
who  was  ruminating  alone  in  his  hotel.  He 
had  just  finished  a  long  letter  to  Miss  Ann 
Truepenny,  in  which  he  had  detailed  all  the 
remarkable  proceedings  of  the  day.  In  spite 
of  the  applauding  testimony  of  his  own  con** 


JAGS   ASHOBX,  279 

sdence,  that  he  had  done  that  which  was  just 
and  gentlemanly*  his  spirits  were  dreadfully  de- 
pressed. It  was  not  that  he  feared  poverty, 
but  he  feared  that  he  should  not  bear  it  grace* 
fully.  With  economy,  as  a  single  man,  he 
could  still  keep  up  appearances ;  but  the  vital 
question  now  with  him  was,  how  his  engage- 
ment with  the  heiress  was  to  be  regarded.  His 
fortune  he  had  resigned,  but  not  without  a  great 
struggle.  Was  he  equal  to  the  higher  self-de- 
votion, the  loftier  magnanimity,  of  relinquishing 
his  beloved  ?  He  felt  that  he  was  not ;  if  it 
was  his  destiny  to  lose  her,  he  would  submit  as 
he  might,  but  he  was  determined  not  to  be 
accessory  to  his  own  misery.  In  thus  reason- 
ing, he  always  considered  her  immense  fortune 
as  an  integral  part  of  herself. 

In  the  midst  of  these  painful  reflectiond,  the 
honest  lawyer  made  his  appearance,  in  a  plight 
in  which  no  honest  man  ought  to  be  seen.  He 
bad  upon  his  person  a  specimen  of  every  va- 
riety of  Portsmouth  filth.  His  hat,  to  use  a 
poet's  expression,  was  multiform,  his  coat  was 
rent,  and  the  rims  of  his  eyes  were  very  care- 


280  JACK    ASHOBX* 

fully  plaBtered  with  mud.  As  Mr.  Singleheart 
entered  with  a  laugh  upon  his  begrimed  coun- 
tenance.  Sir  Edward  did  not  hesitate  to  give 
vent  to  the  merriment  that  his  friend's  ludicrous 
appearance  excited.  Indeed,  his  presence  was 
just  then  a  great  relief — ^in  the  midst  of  all  his 
sorrows,  Sir  Edward  had  not  yet  been  pelted* 

**  Come,  lawyer,  open  your  case — state  your 
plea." 

^<  Let  me  first  go  up  to  my  room,  and  make 
myself  fit  to  appear  in  court.  Have  dinner  and 
a  couple  of  bottles  of  claret  ready,  and  we  will 
charge  them  to  the  expenses  incurred  in  re  Sir 
John  Truepenny^s  debarkation.  I  wish  to  come 
into  court  with  clean  hands.'^  So  expanding  his 
very  dirty  ones,  he  disappeared  for  a  time. 

The  friends  did  not  again  meet  until  a  late 
dinner,  after  which  Mr.  Singleheart  gave  Sir 
Edward  a  very  humorous  detail  of  the  whole 
scene,  *'  But  I  donH  much  cai^e,"  he  continued ; 
^*  for  that  wily  scoundrel.  Scrivener,  got  it 
much  worse  than  myself.  It  would  have  made 
your  sad  heart  merry  to  have  heard  how  vehe- 
mently he  disclaimed  his  profession.    *  Thaf  s 


JACK  A8HOBB.  281 

the  bwjer»  on  my  honour  he  i%^  said  he  point- 
ing to  the  humble  individual  who  is  talking  to 
you— but  it  would  not  do— he  bad»  in  gome 
manner,  encouraged  the  vagabonds  to  make 
this  fu8%  and  they  swore  they  would  have  it 
out  of  him.  They  have  permanently  blackened 
both  his  eyes,  and  his  face  was  covered  with 
Uood  from  his  broken  nose.  Many  of  the 
villains  seemed  quite  struck  that  a  lawyer*s 
blood  should  be  as  red  as  an  honest  man's — at 
least,  so  they  said.  But  what  to  do  with  my 
client,  I  know  not.  He  is  very  drunk  now^ 
and  therefore  anything  he  may  sign  will  have 
no  legal  effect  Besides,  he  promised  me^  on 
the  honour  of  a  seaman,  that  he  would  never 
sign  a  paper  without  consulting  me.  I  believe 
he  will  keep  hisword.** 

**  I  think  he  will — I  am  sure  he  will,"  said 
Sir  Edward  thoughtfully. 

'^  Now  this  is  as  fit  a  case  for  a  statute  of 
lunacy  as  any  I  ever  met  with.  You  are  next 
of  kin,  Sir  Edward.  What  do  you  think  of 
it?' 

'^  You  cannot  be  serious.    The  liberty  of  the 


282  JACK   ABHOXS; 

subject  extends  to  the  privilege  of  getting  in- 
toxicated, and  we  must  appeal  from  Philip 
drunk  to  Philip  sober.  I  think  that,  to-mor- 
row morning,  both  we  and  Jack  himself  will 
see  Sir  John  Truepenny  in  a  new  light" 

**  I  hope  so— I  fervently  hope  so»  No  soli- 
citor could  administer  his  ai&urs  without  re- 
proach, were  he  more  just  than  Aristides^ 
should  my  client  continue  this  line  of  con- 
duct." 

*'  He  will  not — most  assuredly  he  will  not. 
Let  him  marry  any  decent  person,  and  my  lady 
will  soon  make  a  gentleman  of  Sir  John.  Let 
him  marry.'' 

^*  Marry — amen — and  with  all  my  heart. 
This  is  the  very  match  for  which  the  True- 
penny family  have  denied  themselves  for  so 
many  generations." 

*^  Ah !  do  I  understand  you  ?** 

*^  I  hope  so ;  for  ultimately  it  will  be  for 
your  good.  If  you  were  the  eligible  person  for 
whom  to  resuscitate,  by  purchase,  this  dormant 
or  expired  peerage^  how  much  more  eligible  is 
this  sailor  baronet !    He  is  nearer  to  the  True- 


JACK  ASHOES.  SS83 

pennys  ki  Uood — and,  above  all,  he  has  the 
baronial  estates.^ 

^  But  his  pcevious  low  life-*^ 

^  Six  months  in  London,  a  daAidngnnaster, 
and  a  tailor;  or  the  tailor  akme.** 

'^  His  almost  total  want  of  education—" 

**  He  knows  how  to  write  his  name :  what 
need  has  a  lc»rd  to  know  more?'' 

**  But  then  his  rough  and  salt-sea  mannars — 
do  you  think  the  gentle,  quiet,  and  mild  Miss 
Ann  could  ever  tolerate  them  ?* 

^  Can't  tell — like  him,  perhaps,  the  better  for 
them.'' 

"  His  rolling  gait." 

"  His  superb  person." 

<*  His  habits  of  drinking."^ 

*<  His  handsome  face.** 

^^  I  verily  believe  that  he  chews  tobacco." 

*^  Oh,  she'll  make  him  leave  that  off  whenever 
shelikes.'' 

"  You  a£Rection*m<mger,  you  have  married 
them  already.^ 

*'  Not  I,  indeed.  They  will  marry  fast 
enough  without  my  assistance ;  that  is  to  say, 


284  JACK  ASHORE. 

if  the  deaf  old  geDtlemen  wishes  it ;  and  I  am 
afraid,  my  dear  Sir  £dward,  that  wish  it  he 
wilL  Why  has  he  lived  so  far  beyond  the 
usual  boundary  of  life — living  on  in  that  worst, 
that  most  appalling  of  silences,  the  silence  of 
deafiiess?—- the  few  words  that  he  ever  utters, 
are  to  the  effect,  that  he  is  weary  and  would  be 
at  rest — and  that  he  lives  only  for  the  fulfil- 
ment of  his  ancestor's  wish.  It  is  awful  to  look 
upon  that  deaf  old  man ;  and  still  more  awfiil 
to  contemplate  his  one  unchanging,  indomitable 
sentiment — which  alone  keeps  him  living,  and 
for  which  alone  he  Uves.  He  will  make  them 
marry. 

^  Never— -I  have  a  trust  in  Ann's  affection ; 
it  has  been,  heart  and  soul,  bestowed  on  me-* 
that  she  never  can  transfer  to  a  rough,  low-bred 


seaman.** 


*^  Say  not  what  she  can  do  until  that  low, 
rough-bred  seaman  has  been  six.  months  on 
shore.  My  dear  friend,  do  your  best  to  gain 
her,  and  expect  the  worst.  Nerve  up  your 
gallant  heart  to  act  now  as  you  ever  have  done 
your  next  step  be  as  honourable  as  your 


JACK  A8H0BX.  286 

last  Enow,  Sir  Edward,  that  I  am  opposed 
to  jou.  M J  professional  duty  must  be  done, 
though  it  should  bring  me  with  sorrow  to  an 
untimelj  grave.  I  must  not  only  advise  my 
client  to  this  match,  but  do  my  best  to  bring  it 
to  a  happy  issue.    Cheer  upi  my  friend*'' 

"This  from  your 

"  I  will,  if  it  will  make  you  happy,  resign 
my  appointment  immediately ;  but  as  Sir  John's 
solicitor,  I  know  my  duty,  and  that  duty  you 
must  respect.    All  may  yet  be  weU.** 

**  I  do  respect  you— I  do  respect  your  duty. 
Finish  the  wine  yourself.     Grood  night** 

"  No,  no,  d — ^n  it — hey— what,  swearing  I 
We'll  resign,  Edward,  hey  ?  No,  my  dear  son, 
let  us  resign,  and  go  up  to  town  to-morrow  by 
the  first  coach*  There,  fill  your  glass.  That's 
settled.** 

^*  By  no  manner  of  means.  I  cannot  let  my 
new-found  relation  be  a  prey  to  all  the  sharks 
and  vermin  of  this  place.  He  would  immedi- 
ately Ml  into  the  harpy  hands  of  Scrivener.  I 
will  stay  here  a  few  days  longer,  and  be  you 
his  friend  for  my  sake.    Grood  night.** . 


286  JACK   ASHOBE. 

Sir  Edward  wrung  Mr.  Singleheart^s  band, 
and  departed,  as  he  aaidi  to  rest 

*<  Welly'"  said  the  lawyer,  when  he  found 
himself  alone,  ^'  it  is  good  to  soliloquise*  The 
habit  is  a  useful  one.  But  let  as  see  that  the 
doors  are  all  fast  If  men  would  oftener  solilo- 
quize, they  would  be  all  the  better  ibr  it 
Thinkii^,  it  won't  do.  Give  it  out  boldly  as  I 
do,  thus.  See  how  your  actions  appear  in  liv- 
ing words — words  that  another  man  might  use. 
See  how  you  like  that  Have  I  done  rightly  ? 
do  I  purpose  to  do  rightly  ?  I  think  I  da 
Here  are  a  bottle  and  a  half  of  claret-— let  us 
argue  the  point ;  and  one  of  them  shall  be  my 
antagonist.  Not  the  half-empty  one— no— I 
will  not  be  opposed  so  weakly.  The  full  one 
is  most  likely  to  overcome  me.  Now  stand 
there,  and  do  your  worst — ^in  the  mean  time,  I 
shall  take  a  glass  out  of  your '  brother.  Now 
go  on,  sir.  You  say,  or  you  would  say  if  you 
could,  ^  Is  it  just  or  generous,  that  you  should 
Urge  forward  this  noble  young  man»  your  dear 
friend  too,  first  to  resign  a  splendid  fortune, 
which,  by  your  assistance,  he  might  have  still 


JACK   A8H0RB.  287 

retained  many  years,  and,  in  the  mean  time,  the 
upstart  claimant  might  have  drunk  himself  to 
death  with  his  attorney,  out  of  mere  vexation, 
or  been  carried  off  in  a  rapid  atrophy  at  the 
law^s  delay.    Answer  roe  that,  master.** 

*^  Well  opened,  Mr.  Longcork — ^your  case  is 
well  opened ;  but  let  me  open  you  yourself,  for 
your  speech  was  so  long,  that  whilst  you  were 
prating,  I  have  silently  extracted  all  that  was 
good  from  out  your  companion.  Why,  I  de- 
dare  you  have  more  strength,  more  vivacity, 
and  more  good  in  you,  than  your  empty  brother. 
You  deserve  the  best  answer  that  I  can  give  you, 
and  you  shall  have  it  It  will  be  short  though. 
All  the  amiability,  and  all  the  virtue  that  one 
man  possibly  could  possess,  ought  not  to  deprive 
another  of  his  just  rights.  It  is  a  case  in  which 
friendship  can  do  nothing.  The  moment  friend- 
Anp  consents  to  do  a  dirty  action,  even  to  serve 
its  object,  it  is  friendship  no  more,  and  nothing 
but  a  conspiracy  between  two  villains.  What 
think  you  of  that.  Master  Narrowneck  ?  It 
deserves  a  glass  of  your  blood,  that  answer 
does.— Now  for  your  next  charge;    you  see, 


288  JACK  ASHORE. 

though  yon  are  dwindling  apace,  I  am  not  yet 
overcome.  Go  on,  lift  up  your  head  like  a 
man,  and  speak  up,  or  the  jury  won't  be  able 
to  hear  you.  You  say  that  mine  are  very  fine 
sentiments,  and  carry  with  them,  on  that  point, 
a  show  of  right ;  but  why  need  I  go  out  of  my 
way,  and  come  between  mutual  affection  ?  A 
lawyer  is  not  a  marriage-broker.  What  has 
law  to  do  with  the  nicer  feelings  of  the  heart,  or 
any  nice  feelings  at  all  ?  Marriage  is  a  holy 
ceremony,  a  moral  contract  of  the  highest 
order;  when  it  is  contracted  from  mercenary 
considerations,  it  is  nothing  better  than  a  legal 
prostitution.  —  You  stole  that  last  senti- 
ment, Mr.  Greencoat,  so  you  must  pay  the 
plagiarist's  forfeit — the  lower  it  gets,  the  more 
relishing  is  your  spirit  You  ask  me,  as  a 
closer,  why  not  stick  rigidly  to  your  professional 
duty,  and  leave  marriage  to  the  loves,  graces, 
opportunity,  and  the  parson.^'' 

**  Now  for  my  answer :  as  I  see  the  case  is 
nearly  closed,  and  you  insist  so  much  upon  my 
sticking  to  my  professional  duty,  I  will  oblige 
you,  and  extract  all  that  you  have,  by  the  way. 


JACK   ASHORE.  289 

and  in  the  name  of  legal  fees.  There,  you  are 
as  empty  now  as  my  blue  bag  used  to  be ;  and 
there  is  so  little  solidity  in  you  that  I  can  see 
quite  through  you.  You  find  what  you  have 
come  to^  by  commencing  a  suit  with  a  lawyer. 
As  you  are  quite  cleaned  out,  I  might  put  you 
out  of  court  at  once ;  but  still,  I  will  put  in 
my  answer  to  your  last  demurrer.  Marriage  I 
acknowledge  to  be  a  solemn  ordinance ;  but  as, 
in  all  contracts  for  this  ceremony,  earthly  things 
must  have  a  consideration,  it  is  my  duty  to  my 
client  to  tell  him  that  such  or  such  a  marriage 
would  have  such  and  such  legal  and  worldly 
beneficial  consequences — that  a  certain  alliance 
would  better  his  real  estate,  and  would  be  at* 
tended  with  such  and  such  temporal  advantages 
-—but  to  bring  about  such  a  marriage  is  alto* 
gether  another  affair-— but  I  donH  see  quite  so 
clearly  as  usual — I  have  gained  my  cause,  and 

if  I  can  only  gain  my  bed  as  cleverly . 

He  did,  with  the  assistance  of  the  waiter. 


VOL.   [•  o 


990  JACK   ASHOBK. 


a. 


CHAPTEB  XIX. 

P0II7  politicil-- Does  the  gracious  and  the  grand,  and  bocrowft 
monej  with  all  the  nonchalance  of  a  lady  of  qualitj*-Jack 
grows  dignified,  and  a  judge  of  music,  and  a  little  more 
sober  and  sensibfo— A  lawyer  at  a  nonplue— Makes  a  no- 
tion, and  takes  noUiing  by  iL 

Whilst  Sir  Joha  Truepenny  was  sleeping  off 
the  fumes  of  bis  brandy,  Foil  and  Mrs.  Snow- 
drop had  arranged  between  them  a  hollow  truce. 
Poor  Susan,  shocked  and  bewildered,  was  forced 
to  dress  herself  in  bridal  white.  Felly  did  the 
same,  being  promptly  supplied  with  all  required 
finery  from  the  ready<*made  stores  of  this  ex- 
tortionate place.  She  was  never  before  so  well 
dressed,  and,  in  spite  of  the  superfluity  of  rib- 


JACK   ASHOSS.  291 

boDs  and  artificial  flowers,  looked»  in  the  sailor^B 
eye  at  least,  bewitching. 

The  august  two  determined  to  do  nothing 
important  u.itil  next  day,  excepting  the  in- 
'viting  oi  their  mutual  friends  to  a  grand 
supper,  each  lady  asking  an  equal  number  of 
guests.  When  the  landlord  was  sent  for,  and 
ordered  to  do  his  possible  to  produce  the  best 
feast  that  the  place  afforded,  or  that  money 
could  purchase,  he  demurred,  without  having 
first  the  cash  to  purchase  it  with.  **  If,'*  he 
said,  ^  he  had  any  more  respect  for  any  one  living 
person  (and  that  was  impossible)  than  he  had 
for  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  it  was  for  Miss  Macannis- 
ter ;  indeed,  he  should  always  have  said  that 
there  was  not  a  more  respected  person  living 
than  Miss  Macannister,  had  it  not  been  for 
Mrs.  Snowdrop ;  and  if  he  honoured  any  per- 
son more  than  either,  that  person  was  Sir  John 
Truepenny.  But  yet,  there  had  been  such  things 
as  hoaxes.  He  was,  comparatively  speaking,  a 
poor  man — ^his  house  was  used  mostly  by  young 
gentlemen— and  he  saw  their  money  much  less 

o2 


292  JACK   ASHORE. 

often  than  their  faces.  Some  ready  cash  was, 
therefore,  indispensable/' 

**  Low  fellow !"  said  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  tossing 
her  head  disdainfully.  "  Here,  Sue,  go  up  to 
my  lord  barrownight'^s  room,  and  bring  down  a 
handful  of  guineas  out  of  his  lordship's 
pocket." 

<^  Stand  back,  hussy  !  No  one  shall  go  into 
my  Jack's  room  but  myself,"  said  Poll. 

Just  then  it  was  not  prudent  to  argue  this 
all-important  point.  So  Polly  went,  and  returned 
with  only  about  ten  or  twelve  guineas.  It  was 
all  that  she  could  find.  For  these,  the  landlord 
held  out  his  hand,  and  shook  his  head  at  the 

same  time. 

"  This  will  not  go  far,"  said  he,  coolly 
pocketing  the  ^old ;  «  it  will,  however,  give 
you  the  supper,  and  pay  for  the  hire  of  the 
rooms.    For  how  many  did  you  say,  ladies?" 

"  Thirty  at  least ;  and,  as  we  intend  to  be 
very  genteel,  let  there  be  three  fiddles  and 
plenty  of  rum-flip,"  said  Mrs.  Snowdrop. 

«« And,    d'ye  hear,  landlord  ?  none  of  yer 


JACK    ASHORE.  293 

logins  in  the  sallatt — ^it's  vastly  low,"  said 
Polly,  looking  all  manner  of  superiorities  at 
Mrs.  Snowdrop. 

'*  But  what  are  we  to  do  to  raise  the  wind. 
Miss  Macannister  ?^*  said  the  elder  lady. 

^'  Advance  Jack  a  few  of  your  dirty  hun- 
dreds.'' 

'^  With  all  the  pleasure  in  life,  my  dear ; 
but  no  one  knows  where  they  are  stowed  away 
but  myself,  and  I  can't  leave  the  dear  fellow." 

"  Then  send  to  some  of  the  Jews — they'll 
lend  fast  enough/' 

Now  Mrs.  Snowdrop  being  herself  a  Chris- 
tian Jewess — for  those  said  so  to  whom  she  had 
ever  lent  money  or  given  credit — knew  all  the 
peril  of  Jew  dealings. 

**  No,  madam,  she  replied,  "  with  your  per- 
mission I  must  tell  you,  that  if  once  you  get 
the  Jews  in,  they  will  get  us  all  out.^ 

"  Well,"  said  Poll,  "  to  show  you  I  am  not 
afraid  to  leave  my  Jack,  I'll  just  step  out  my- 
self,— just  give  us  your  fist  upon  it,  that  you'll 
let  me  in  again.  I  know  how  to  get  the  mo- 
pusses." 


294  JACK    ASHORE* 


tc 


As  you  loTe  Jack  and  yourself,  donH  go  to 
his  lawyer  I*^ 

**  PolFs  not  so  green — no,  no-*-not  quite  so 
spooney.** 

So«  putting  on  her  new  white  satin  bonnet, 
with  all  the  pride  of  a  Roxalana,  she  passed 
into  the  street  She  who»  but  a  few  days  be- 
fore, would  haTe  been  glad  if  a  common  Jack 
bad  accosted  her,  looked  superciliously  at  raid, 
shipmen,  passed  lieutenants  with  disdain,  and 
disputed  the  pave  with  post  captains.  But  Poll 
was  as  shrewd  as  she  was  vain.  She  determined 
to  strike  at  once,  and  boldly.  She  soon  found 
out  one  of  those  agents  who  abounded  in  the 
sea*ports  in  the  times  of  war  and  much  prise- 
money,  and  bade  him  procure  a  license  for  her 
marriage  with  Sir  John  immediately,  telling 
him  not  to  regard  expense,  but  tima 

She  had  h^ard  enough  to  make  her  compre- 
hend that  Mr.  Scrivener  wished  to  be  mixed 
up  with  Sir  John^s  afiairs,  for  she  knew  that 
it  was  he  who  had  set  all  these  grand  doings  in 
motion.  She  easily  found  out  his  hotel,  and  was 
readily  admitted  to  him,  though  he  was  in  a  situ- 


JACK   A8H0EB.  V95 

ation  but  little  adapted  to  recehre  company. 
A  surgeon  had  just  taken  his  depart ure,  after 
having  lanced  the  learned  gentleman  under  his 
eyes,  in  order  to  put  them  at  once  into  half- 
mourning  only.  His  nose  was  swollen ;  and  be 
was  still  bathing  his  face  when  Polly  made  her 
appearance. 

Eugenia  Elfrida  had  changed  her  dress,  and, 
but  little  moved  by  her  father's  afflictions,  was 
dividing  her  atten(ioD  pretty  equally  upon  the 
flies  who  were  kmxsking  their  silly  heads  against 
the  panes  of  glass,  and  the  idle  military  and 
naval  vanities  that  were  strutting  up  and  down 
High«-street.    Notwithstanding  this    profitable 
occupation,  Eugenia  was  wondering — she  always 
was  wondering — whether  Jack  had  got  sober — 
what  he  was  doing — and  how  he  would  look,  if 
dressed  in  the  usual  costume  of  a  gentleman. 
Then  again  she  wondered  if  Jack  liked  her — 
and  she  wondered  still  more  intensely  if  he 
would  have  her  for  his  wife;  Cor, after  her  former 
disappointment,  she  did  not  place  too  much  re- 
Uance  upon  the  paternal  promise. 

<<  O,   Sir  John's  friend,   I   see,'*  said   Mr. 


296  JACK  ASHOEE. 

Scrivener,  dabbing  away  with  the  wet  lint 
under  his  eyes.  *'  What  can  I  do  for  you,  ma- 
damr 

"  If  you  pleaae,  sir,  ^sposing  that  you  be  my 
Jack's  friend — Jack  has  sent  me^  sir," — (PoUy 
could  lie  like  a  diplomatist  upon  fitting  occa- 
sions)— **  Jack  has  sent  me,  sir,  with  his  duty 
to  ye,  and  wants  the  loan  like  of  a  fistful  of 
guineas  or  so.'' 

**  Does  he  indeed  ?  The  worthy  Sir  John ! 
He  may  command  any  sum  he  thinks  fit  to  ask 
for.  No  man  should  I  be  more  proud  and  more 
happy  to  serve  than  Sir  John  Truepenny.  A 
man  of  infinite  merit,  madam,  and  of  great  taste 
also — he  knows  how  to  choose  his  friends.  His 
friends,  of  course,  must  be  mine.  What  would 
you  choose  to  take — ^sherry,  madeira  ?^ 

"  Why,  sir,  as  you're  so  purlite — a  go  of  g^n 
and  bitters ;  not  that  I  want  any  gemman  to 
treat  me,  now  Jack's  come  to  his  own — but 
merely  out  of  purliteness,  and  to  show  good 
breeding ; — so  let's  have  the  go  !* 

«  Waiter,  go  for  some  gin  and  bitters.'* 

"  How  much,  sir  ?" 


JACK   ASHORE.  297 


<c 


A  go,  you  spooney  !  Come,  tramp  with 
your  dishclout,  you  fiddle-faced,  dog^robbing, 
trencher-scraper.  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  you 
see,  as  I  shall  soon  have  servants  of  my  own, 
I  am  just  practising  a  little." 

'^  Exactly,  madam.  Practice  makes  perfect, 
as  the  saying  is :  not  that  there  is  any  want  of 
perfection  in  the  person  I  have  thd  honour  of 
speaking  to.  How  much  does  my  friend  Sir 
John  require  ?" 

"  Why,  a  hundred  will  do  for  the  present;" 
and  she  held  out  her  willing  hand.  But  Mr. 
Scrivener  explained  to  her,  that  in  these  trans- 
actions a  few  forms  were  necessary ;  and  that, 
great  as  was  his  affection  for  Sir  John,  the  ad- 
vance could  not  be  made  without  an  interview 
with  him,  and  an  acknowledgment  with  his 
signature  attached  to  it. 

"  Would  Sir  John  do  him  the  inexpressible 
honour  of  calling  upon  him  ?'* 

That  was  totally  out  of  the  question.  Poll 
was  also  unwilling  that  the  lawyer  should  come 
to  Jack ;  but  the  money  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary, the  more  especially  when  she  thought  of 

o5 


298  JACK   A8H0K£« 

the  grand  doings  that  she  contemplated  for  the 
morrow  ;-**so,  receiving  Mr.  Scrivener's  promise 
that  he  would  be  with  them  in  the  course  of  an 
hour.  Poll,  making  three  low  curtseys  to  Miss 
Scrivener,  who  returned  the  salutation  with 
what  she  conceived  the  fashionable  bob  of  the 
head  to  an  inferior,  Poll  withdrew,  muttering^ 
as  she  went  down  stairs,  ^*  Painted  wax-work  ! 
finical  moppet  T* 

But  Poll  had  other  very  imp<N*tant  business 
to  transact,  the  nature  of  which  will  soon  tran- 
spire ;  so  that  it  was  nearly  eight  oVlock  before 
she  had  returned  to  the  Blue  Posts.  In  the 
mean  time,  Mr.  Scrivener  had  called  twice,  and 
sent  up  his  card  each  time ;  but  admittance  had 
been  refused  to  him,  through  the  agency  of  the 
wily  bumboat  woman. 

Jack's  slumber  had  been  most  refreshing  and 
salutary'  to  him,  and  he  arose  about  six  o^clock, 
perfectly  sober,  and  as  eager  for  food  as  a 
famished  wolf.  By  slow  degrees  he  began  to 
comprehend  his  present  position,  and  shortly 
came  to  the  very  just  conclusion  tliat  he  had 
been  a  most  egregious  ass.  Before  he  could 
dress  himself,  he  was  forced  to  send  for  a  slop- 


JACK    ASHORE.  299 

seller,  bo  torn  and  soiled  did  he  find  the  clothes 
that  be  had  put  on,  almost  new,  that  day. 

He  descended  into  the  best  apartment,  and 
had  to  resist  all  the  blandishments  and  the 
brandy  of  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  and,  what  was  much 
more  diiBcult,  the  timid  sensitiveness  and 
conscious  blushes  of  her  bridal-arrayed  daugh- 
ter. At  first  Jack  swore  stoutly  that  he 
would  not  be  gammoned — that  he  had  given 
Poll  his  word — and  that  to  splice  with  her  was 
no  more  than  doing  his  duty  as  an  able  sea- 
man. But  even  whilst  making  these  protesta- 
tions, he  had  insensibly  drawn  towards  Susan ; 
and  as  he  finished  by  saying,  **  Might  the 
devil  fly  away  with  him  down  Mount  Stroow 
bolo,  if  he  would  not  marry  Poll  the  moment 
she  asked  him,'*  his  arm  was  round  Susan's 
waist,  and  a  kiss  was  heard  as  loud  as  a  north* 
easter  whistling  through  the  weather  topsail 
sheet  block. 

At  this  moment  Poll  herself  entered  the 
room,  with  face  flushed  and  fire  in  her  eyes. 
Great  was  the  clamour  that  ensued.  She  would 
have  flown  upon  the  meek,  unresisting  Susan, 


300  JACK   ASHOBE. 

had  not  the  powerful  bulk  of  the  bumboat 
woman  interposed,  and  the  strong  arm  of  Jack 
restrained. 

^*  Poll,^'  said  Sir  John  authoritatively,  ^^  as 
sure  as  bogs  are  bogs,  I'll  wop  you  into  a 
mummy  if  you  are  not  quiet,  and  don't  behave 
like  a  lady.* 

Poll  had  nothing  left  her  but  to  burst  into 
tears,  make  moving  speeches  about  Mrs.  Snow- 
drop's treachery,  the  artfulness  of  her  tater- 
faced  dump  of  a  daughter,  and  Jack's  deceit- 
fulness.  Jack's  initiation  into  rank  and  fortune 
was  not  remarkably  pleasant 

In  the  midst  of  this  passion  of  tenderness 
and  rage,  Mr.  Scrivener  was  again  announced. 
Mrs.  Snowdrop  had  already  ordered  ^^  the  thief 
of  a  lawyer''  to  be  bundled  out,  when  Polly, 
recovering  herself  wonderfully,  countermanded 
the  order,  and  a  short  consultation  ensued, 
which  made  Jack  aware  of  the  present  state  of 
his  finances.  Our  hero  began  to  see  how 
the  land  lay,  and  was  determined  not  to  be 
altogether  a  dupe.  He  therefore  took  care  to 
conceal  from  every  body  what  Sir  Edward  had 


JACK    ASHORE.  301 

told  him  respecdng  the  two  thousand  pounds 
in  his  name  at  the  Portsmouth  bank,  and  was 
determined  slily  to  observe  how  all  parties 
worked  their  ships. 

At  length  Mr.  Scrivener  was  admitted.  Jack, 
being  determined  to  receive  him  with  aristo- 
cratic dignity,  placed  himself  in  an  arm-chair 
in  the  centre  of  the  room,  with  his  natty  straw 
hat  on,  cocked  sapiently  on  one  side,  with  a 
very  long  clay  pipe  in  his  mouth,  which  he 
held  out  pompously  with  one  hand,  whilst 
resting  on  the  elbow  of  the  chair  was  the  other, 
containing  a  glass  of  cold  water.  Between  his 
l^s,  on  the  floor,  was  a  three-cornered  spittoon, 
and  he  sent  forth  the  smoke  from  his  pipe  in 
long  and  measured  volumes.  Jack  only  eyed 
the  water  askance;  but  that  was  enough — it 
was  emblematical  pf  his  resolved  sobriety.  At 
his  right  hand  sate  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  her  chair 
overflowing  with  her  vast  proportions,  with  her 
arms  crossed  in  all  the  dignity  of  the  future 
mother  of  the  baronet.  Poll  had  caught  the 
infection  of  pomp  and  privilege,  and  played 
her  part  of  magnificence  by  sitting  bolt  and 


302  ja<:k  ashore. 

stiflSy  upright  in  her  chair,  and  flinging  her 
head  so  much  back,  that  nothing  of  her  face 
was  visible,  excepting  the  tip  of  her  chin.  No 
man  coming  to  lend  a  hundred  pounds  was 
ever  received  with  so  much  hautettr. 

All  the  length  of  one  side  of  the  room,  the 
tables  were  spread  and  arranged  for  the  accom* 
modatioQ  of  thirty  guests.  We  make  no  men- 
tion of  Susan,  as  she  was  not  visible ;  having 
seated  herself  modestly  behind  Mrs.  Snowdrop, 
she  was  totally  eclipsed  by  the  maternal  rotun- 
dity. 

Now,  when  the  door  was  opened  to  admit 
Mr.  Scrivener,  two  one-legged  fiddlers,  leading 
a  blind  brother  of  the  bow,  took  this  opportu- 
nity to  make  their  ingress,  accompanied  by  one 
who  tortured  a  bass  viol — base  in  every  sense: 
a  man  with  a  barrelled  organ  also  attempted 
entrance,  but  not  having  been  bidden,  he  was 
tumbled  down  stairs  by  the  waiters. 

The  musidaners,  as  Poll  called  them,  being 
duly  impressed  with  awe^  quietly  filed  ofi*,  and 
placed  themselves  upon  stools,  which  they 
knew  intuitively  to  be  meant  for  them. 


JACK    ASHOKE*  SOS 

When  this  little  bustle  bad  subsided,  with  a 
green  shade  over  bis  eyes,  a  smile  of  fascination 
on  his  countenance,  and  his  hand  extended  for 
shaking,  Mr.  Scrivener  advanced  towards  the 
awful  trio.  But  Jack  impeded  his  progress  by 
a  truly  Jovian  wave  of  his  piped  head,  and, 
exclaiming  **  God  save  the  King,"  prepared  to 
listen  with  all  the  dignified  composure  of  the 
critic,  and  all  the  conscious  dignity  of  the 
master  of  the  coming  feast.  Not  waiting  for 
any  superfluous  tuning — vain  laboinr  I — ^*  with 
an  obedient  start/'  the  four  cracked  instru- 
ments ran  a  race  in  the  national  anthem,  which 
was  won,  by  some  bars,  by  the  blind  catgut 
vexer. 

Jack  pronounced  that  it  wasgood,  but  hardly 
loud  enough ;  Mrs.  Snowdrop  and  Polly  were 
chary  in  their  approbation  «^  both  saying  at 
once,  the  musicianers  might  have  done  better. 
.  But  the  disappointed  lawyer  was  not  yet 
permitted  to  speak.  His  opening  speech  was 
cut  short  by  Jack  demanding  ^*  Rule  Britan- 
nia," which  was  accordingly  played,  and  the 
defects  mentioned  in  the  last  essay  of  the  mu- 


304  JACK   A8U0EE. 

sicians  strenuously  remedied.  The  glasses  on 
the  table  seemed  to  dance  with  the  loudness  of 
the  horrid  discordance.  Jack  and  the  ladies 
expressed  themselves  satisfied. 

Mr.  Scrivener  now  attempted  to  advance, 
but  Jack  met  him  with  a  repelling  frownt  and 
stopped  him  by  a  gesture. 

"  Sir  John  Truepenny  !"  said  the  lawyer  from 
the  middle  of  the  room,  and  making  one  step 
forward. 

••  Avast  I  heave  to.  What  ship,  a-hoy  ?  A 
Russian,  I  'spose,  by  the  green  colours  you 
show  ?" 

**  An  Englishman  like  yourself.  Sir  John." 

*^  Then  down  with  your  deadlights,  show 
your  papers,  whence  from,  where  bound  to  ? 
name,  tonnage^  and  lading  ?** 

Now,  as  Jack  uttered  all  this  with  a  gruff 
harsh  voice,  and  as  there  was  not  a  ray  of 
pleasantry  either  in  look  or  manner,  Mr.  Scri- 
vener was  taken  as  flat  a-back  as  was  ever  a 
square-rigged  vessel  in  a  squall.  Many  of  the 
questions  thus  showered  upon  him  he  could  not 
answer*  because  he  could  not  comprehend  them* 


JACK    ASHORE.  305 

He  was  more  confused  than  if  he  had  been  con- 
victed in  a  lie  under  a  severe  cross-examination. 
The  wicked  Jack  enjoyed  this  extremely. 

But  a  mild  and  not  unmusical  voices  that 
was  positively  a  treat  of  harmony  after  the 
fiddles  and  Sir  John's  harsh  tones,  arose  from 
behind  Mrs.  Snowdrop^s  chair — 

'^  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  I  believe  Sir 
John  Truepenny  don't  like  the  shade  over  your 
eyes,  and  is  merely  inquiring  your  name  and 
business  in  his  own  pleasant  way." 

Mr.  Scrivener  made  a  very  low  bow  to  Mrs. 
Snowdrop,  who  drew  herself  up  accordingly. 
**'  Sir  John*s  pleasant  manner — hum—- thepillory 
— hot  summer^s  day,  and  eggs  in  a  state  of 
transition — ^never  yet  thought  over-pleasant,** 
said  the  lawyer. 

**  Tried  'em  ?"  said  Jack,  without  moving  a 
muscle. 

"  I !  hey— God  bless  me  —  what  do  you 
mean?  This  shade,  Sir  John,  I  received  in  your 
service.  If  you  have  already  forgotten  it,  my 
name  is  Simon  Scrivener,  and  it  is  owing  to  me 
that  you  are  now  Sir  John  Truepenny.      My 


306  JACK   ASHORE. 

business  here  is  coining,  at  your  request^  to  lend 
you  a  hundred  pounds,  which  I  shall  have 
much  fdeasure  in  doing,  if  you  will  but 
grant  me  a  little  civility  and  a  small  portion  of 
your  friendship." 

*-Very  well,  Mr.  Simon  Snitcher — all  fair 
and  above-board — tip  us  the  rhino.'*  But  Jack 
was  still  as  grave  as  a  judge. 

^'My  dear,  facetious  Sir  John,^  said  Scri- 
vener, growing  bolder,  **  there  are  a  few  cere- 
monies to  be  observed.'*  And  he  then  wished 
to  make  terms  with  him  for  future  employment ; 
but  Jack  was  immovable — he  would  not  even 
sign  an  acknowledgment,  or  give  bim  a  receipt 
for  the  money.  He  remembered  his  promise 
to  Mr.  Singleheart,  not  to  put  pen  to  paper 
without  his  sanction,  and  that  promise  he  was 
determined  religiously  to  keep. 

The  two  ladies  saw  and  heard  this  with  dis- 
may, but  Jack  was  obstinate;  and  now  the 
only  resource  was  for  Mrs.  Snowdrop  to  give 
security  for  the  money,  which  the  lawyer, 
knowing  her  wealth,  very  willingly  accepted. 
A  canvass  bag  containing  nineteen  guineas  and 


JACK   A8HOXK*  907 

eighty  pounds  in  bank-notes  was  then  put  into 
Jack's  capacious  hands*  which  he  thrust  with 
the  nonchalance  of  a  great  man  into  his  pocket. 
For  this  advance  of  one  hundred  pounds,  Mrs. 
Snowdrop  had  accepted  a  bill  for  one  hundred 
and  thirty  pounds  at  thiee  months,  the  lawyer 
charging,  as  be  said,  only  ten  per  cent  for  in- 
terest, and  giving  the  gold  at  its  market- 
able price  of  thirty  shillings  each  for  the 
guineas. 

After  many  vain  attempts  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Scrivener  to  do  the  gracious,  and  recommend 
himself,  Jack  unceremoniously  told  him  to  make 
himself  scarce^  as  several  ladies  and  gentlemen 
were  expected  who  could  not  abide  low  com- 
pany. So  Mr.  Scrivener  prepared  to  go, 
gaining  nothing  by  his  motion  but  a  little  usury. 

"  Play  him  out  r  aaid  Sir  John,  with  a  tone 
of  voice  not  to  be  disobeyed.  The  fiddlers 
trembled  to  thdr  very  elbows,  and  the  bass 
viol  groaned  in  dismay. 

**  What  tune,  please  your  honour  ?^  said  the 
blind  musician,  who,  not  being  under  the  terrors 


308  JACK   ASHORE. 

of  Jack^s  frown^    still   had    the  command  of 
speech. 

**  The  rogue^s  march.*' 

Under  the  complimentary  flourish  of  catgut 
Mr.  Scrivener  withdrew,  not  wonderfully  satis- 
fied either  with  his  reception  or  his  dismissal. 

The  taking  of  a  sight  had  not  yet  prevailed, 
at  least  not  in  the  present  classical  coster- 
monger  style;  but  Jack,  laying  aside  his  baronial 
dignity  as  the  lawyer  retreated,  made  an  in- 
telligible action  of  contempt,  equal  to  the 
modern  method  of  expressing  derision,  and  very 
far  superior  to  it  in  energy  and  drollery.  To 
use  a  favourite  phrase  in  our  line  of  writing, 
**  It  may  be  conceived,  but  it  cannot  be  ex- 
pressed." 

From  the  decided  tone  of  Jack's  conduct,  it 
was  now  very  evident  that  himself  would  take 
the  lead.  He  began  with  rowing  Mrs.  Snow- 
drop for  having  made  him  drunk — which  pleased 
Poll ;  and  then  he  turned  upon  Poll,  and  rowed 
her  for  having  permitted  him  to  be  made 
drunk — which   pleased   Mrs.  Snowdrop.     He 


JACK    ASHORE.  309 

then  criticised  Poll's  dress  with  a  Petruchio- 
like  severity^  and  looked  so  sternly,  and  swore 
so  astoundingly,  that  she  was  quite  vanquished, 
and    stood    trembling  before  him.      He  next 
found  fault  with  all  the  arrangements  of  the 
tables,  summoned  the  landlord  and  all  his  ser- 
vants,  male  and  female,   damned   them   as  a 
parcel  of  the  greatest  lubbers  that  ever  wished 
to  impose  their  low  ways  upon  a  man  of  rank  and 
fashion,  and  proceeded  to  instruct  them  in  their 
own  business.     Everything  was  removed,  even 
to   the    saltcellars.      After    plates,  decanters, 
and  wine-glasses  had  been  placed  in  every  con- 
ceivable position,  Si^  John  expressed  himself 
satisfied.    He  next  abused  his  band,  complained 
that  they  could  not  play  loudly  enough,  and 
then  ordered  an  augmentation  of  drums,  fifes, 
and  clarionets,  and  the  Scotch  bag^pipes. 

When  he  had  terrified  every  one  into  silence, 
he  strutted  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  the  room, 
broke  his  pipe  across  the  head  of  the  landlord, 
who  was  in  the  act  of  making  him  a  low  bow,  took 
a  deliberate  aim  at  a  painted  and  glazed  coloured 
print  of  a  midshipman  in  full  uniform,  with  bis 


310  JACK   ASHORE. 

untouched  glass  of  water,  and  sumshed  botb^ 
exclaiming,  '^By  the  great  gutis  of  the  Old 
Glory,  I'll  let  the  lubbers  hnow  that  Jack's 
Ashore  !'' 


END  OF    VOL.    I. 


LONDON : 

IBOTaON  AND  PALMIR»  FRINTIM,  SAVOY  tTltCT,  8T1IAK9. 


JACK    ASHORE 


VOL.  II. 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 
Lately  published  in  3  vols,  'post  8vo., 

OUTWARD      BOUND; 

OR, 

A  MERCHANT'S  ADVENTURES. 

By  the  Author  of 
Rattlin  thb  Reifer/'  *' Jack  Ashore,"  &c. 


1$ 


OPINIONS   OF   THE   PRESS. 

"  This  is  by  far  the  best  written  and  most  interesting  of  the 
novels  this  author  has  produced.  It  is  replete  with  graphic 
description  and  well-portrayed  character,  as  well  as  highly 
exciting  as  a  tale  of  the  sea." — Courier, 

"  The  scenes  on  shipboard  in  ibis  romance  of  the  sea  are 
not  exceeded  in  vividness  and  excitement  by  the  best  pas- 
sages of  the  best  works  of  the  class." — Court  Journal, 

"  This  new  nautical  novel  is  of  such  enchaining  interest, 
thaat  when  once  begun  it  is  impossible  to  leave  it  off  till  we 
re'ch  the  end." — Caledonian  Mercury » 

*  This  work  will  most  decidedly  class  with  the  best  speci- 
mens of  the  nautical  school  of  imaginative  writings.  The 
story  is  full  of  interest,  and  teeming  with  variety." — Weekly 
Chronicle, 

**  We  have  never  read  a  more  exciting  nautical  romance." 
— Tyne  Mercury, 


JACK     ASHORE. 


BY   THE   AUTHOR  OF 

*  RATTLIN  THE  REEFER,"  "  OUTWARD  BOUND,' 


IN  THREE  VOLUMES. 


VOL.    II. 


LONDON : 
HENRY  COLBURN,  PUBLISHER, 

GREAT  MARLBOROUGH  STREET. 

1840. 


LONDON : 

IB0T80N  AND  PAJLMBRy   PRINTXM, 
8AVOY  aTRBET,   STRAND. 


CONTENTS 


OP    THE    SECOND    VOLUME. 


Cbaptkb  I.-»It  a  long  and  momentoat  one,  embracing  the 
principal  things  for  which'  man  and  woman  eziBt— >IoTing, 
feeding,  and  fighting— It  touchea  also  upon  Beven  mortal 
aina,  and  contains  seven  immortal  morale— The  former 
apparent,  the  latter  but  darklj  shadowed  out— Sin  is  so 
much  more  easily  achieyed  than  morality  .  •    Page  1 

Chaptbb  n«— -Specimen  of  correspondence  worthy  of  the 
elegant  letter-writer— A  landlord,  like  a  stork,  judged  by 
the  length  of  his  bill^-the  bill  not  so  lucky  as  Giles 
Grimm,  the  latter  being  discharged— The  light  of  other 
days  goes  out  for  a  time— by  keeping  in         .  .44 

Chapter  III« — Jack  emerges  from  obscurity  gloriously — 
Hints  for  making  pageants  and  getting  up  proce8tion»^A 
barber's  ode— Pride  and  profundity— The  pomps  and  Tanities 
of  this  wicked  world  displayed,  end  something  else     .     59 


VI  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  IV^ — Replete  with  grand  events — A  battle  right 
royal,  and  right  royally  foagbt — Vse  victia  !  **  Vain  pomp 
and  glory  of  the  world,  I  hate  ye !" — A  marriage  ceremony 
unceremoniously  performed— The  marriage  feast,  and  other 
important  matters       •  .  .  .80 

Cbaptbr  V. — The  bumboat  woman  and  the  lawyer — Jack's 
wedding-day — finds  himself  not  without  comforters  on  the 
pitiful  eyent— The  gentle  bride's  gentle  anticipations»-A 
long  lecture  on  dignity  of  conduct  and  refinement  of  deport- 
mentj  with  much  other  useful  sermonising      .  .     92 

Chaptrr  VI« — Jack  puts  new  rigging  over  his  mast-head, 
and  hoists  new  colours — Don*t  like  it—- Meets  with  strange 
folks,  and  hears  some  unpleasant  truths  of  himself — More 
mysteries — Gets  arrested  for  debt,  and  served  with  notice 
of  action,  which  action  he  but  little  notices — The  devil  to 
pay  with  Poll,  and  no  pitch  hot !-— Everything  goes  the 
wrong  way,  and  no  physic       .  .  .  .113 

Chapter  VII. — Jack  shows  symptoms  of  returning  to  bis 
senses  over  a  shoulder  of  mutton — Makes  large'  promises 
of  amendment— A  summary  of  proceedings,  and  the  sum- 
total  turns  out  to  be  totally  disagreeable — Lots  of  good 
advice,  to  be  taken  at  a  fair  valuation— Too  dear,  and  not 
taken  at  all— An  interesting  interview,  followed  by  an  in- 
teresting arrangement  .  .        14i2 

Chapter  VIII.— A  conversible  chapter,  but  it  expounds 
much,  and  is  deserving  of  attention — Some  hints  upon 
bigamy,  and  pencillings  by  the  way  on  the  use  of  the 
gibbet — A  father's  advice  to  a  daughter  respecting  the 
marriage  state — How  to  take  advice  advisedly,  that  is,  if  it 
be  palatable  .  .  .160 


CONTEXTS.  Vll 

Cb AFTER  IX.— Just  like  love,  but  nottbet  tender  sentiinent — 
Jack  tries  bii  band  in  eloquence  upon  bands— Makes  no 
band  of  it— More  morality,  and  some  prison  discipline- 
Mrs.  Snowdrop  mucb  in  tbe  dark  as  nigbt  advances-— A 
letter,  but  wbetber  it  contain  loye  or  law,  time  most  sbow^ 
The  wbole  concladed  witb  a  peep  into  a  prison         .      178 

Chaptbb  X. —  Begins  with  many  amiabilities— -There  is  mucb 
settling  of  scores,  and  everything  looks  pleasant — A  ride  on 
a  coach — Listeners  seldom  hear  much  g^d  of  themselves, 
though  the  bearing  often  does  them  good — Jack  dines  on 
the  road,  and  afterwards  throws  one  of  the  company  out 
of  the  window  ....      213 

Chapter  XI. — Jack  in  London — Excellent  advice— Lord 
Chesterfield  made  easy— This  chapter  should  be  studied  by 
rural  and  naval  gentlemen,  and  all  upon  whom  tbe  rust  of 
rusticity  adheres — ^The  end  of  the  lesson  is  a  fiddle,  a  horn- 
pipe, and  a  jollification  .  .231 

Cm  AFTER  XII «— Very  short,  but  decidedly  to  the  purpose — 
Jack  visits  bis  town  residence  incog. — Gets  on  board  bis 
yacht,  and  he  and  old  Grimm,  like  two  school-boys,  play 
tbe  truant   .  •  .  .  •      242 

Chafter  XIIIi«— Not  much  to  the  credit  of  our  hero  in  one 
sense,  very  much  in  most— Being  his  own  master  now,  he 
takes  to  himself  many  masters  worse  than  himself,  and 
profits  very  considerably— He  generalises  in  his  studies, 
and  becomes  Gentleman  Jack  .  .  249 

CuAFiBR  XIV.— Jack  vindicated— Sir  Edward  makes  tbe 
best  of  a  bad  business— Jack  makes  bis  dibtU  before  bis 


VUl  CONTENTS. 

rich  cousin-heireBft— Makes  himself  reiy  agreeable,  although 
he  gi^es  good  adnce — Showa  how  to  treat  a  fit  of  the 
aolka  aucceasfully,  and  does  other  great  things  besides  plaj 
upon  the  fiddle  ....        267 


JACK    ASHORE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Is  ft  long^  vad  momentous  one,  embracing^  the  principal  things 
for  which  man  and  woman  exist— loTing,  feeding,  and 
fighting— It  touches  also  upon  setren  mortal  sins,  and  con- 
tains seren  immortal  morals— The  former  apparent,  the 
latter  but  darUj  shadowed  out — Sin  is  so  mach  more  easily 
achieyed  than  morality. 

'*  Steady,  ho !  Jack  !  Mind  your  helm — ease 
her — ease  her  !  In  with  your  lofty  canvass — the 
Lord  love  you,  Jack  !  reduce  your  head-sails : 
you  are  too  nigh  the  wind,  my  dear — ease  her 
— ease  her — I  tell  ye  your  weather  leeches  are 
shaking — already  youVe    three   cloths  in  the 

VOL.   II.  B 


2  JACK   ASHORE. 

wiDd.  Jack,  my  darling,  this  will  never  d< 
do  you  see  that  infernal  imp  that  has  hold  of 
your  tiller?  How  the  fiend  mocks,  and  gibbers, 
and  grins  !  What  diabolical  antics  !  Brain 
him,  Jack,  brain  him  !  Do  you  mark  how  he 
yaws  the  good  ship  ?  You  donH  know  him — 
it  is  a  pity.  But  there  is  an  old  quarter-master 
looking  chap  standing  by,  hanging  his  head — 
nobody  regards  him — your  companions  don't 
regard  him,  nor  you  either.  So  much  the 
worse  for  you  all — his  name  is  Common  Sense. 
Give  him  the  helm.  Jack  !  There  is  yet  time, 
but  barely — already  are  the  seas  breaking  over 
you — ^your  canvass  is  strained — your  bows  are 
under  water — your  masts  bend  —  your  yards 
creak,  and  your  standing  rigging  is  snapping. 
How  can  it  be  otherwise?  Folly  has  taken 
command  of  the  good  ship,  and  there  is  the 
demon  of  insanity  at  the  helm.  The  gale  of 
prosperity  is  too  much  for  you — too,  too  sudden, 
my  dear  John — have  a  care— it  will  upset  you, 
and  shortly  make  you  nothing  but  a  crazy 
wreck.  Oh,  have  a  care  of  madness,  my  dear 
boy — have  an  especial  care  of  it.    Dread  you 


JACK   A8HOBX.  8 

not  the  darkened  cell  and  the  chaios  of  the 
maniac?  What  then  would  avail  your  vast 
estates,  your  high-sounding.title?  You  would 
pine  away  on  the  loathsome  straw  until  your 
fleshless  bones  rattled  in  your  parched-up  skin ; 
never  more  in  your  light  sailor^s  dress  to  swing 
joyously  in  the  merry  sunshine  upon  the  lofty 
yard,  or  to  gather  up  the  fluttering  sail,  with 
the  blithe  *  One,  two,  three  !*  Never  more 
with  proud  cheerfulness  to  heave  the  lead 
gallantly  to  the  sprit-sail  yard,  singing  out  the 
decreasing  soundings  as  the  brave  ship  neared 
the  dear  shore  that  you  loved  and  were  de- 
fending— never — ^never  more !  That  would  be 
sad  ^  change  for  a  penny  t  Steady,  ho  I  Jack, 
steady !'' 

Was  there  no  one  by  him  to  warn  him  of  the 
dangerous  path  of  excitement  that  he  was  tread- 
ing ?  Yes,  there  was  one ;  onealas !  but  too  much 
trending  upon  the  lee-shore  her8el£  But  the 
gale  that  was  driving  her  to  her  ruin  was  not 
the  blast  of  arrogant  prosperity,  nor  the  storm  of 
wild  fury,  nor  the  whirlwind  of  ungovernable 
passions ;  it  was  that  impulse  of  the  soul  that 

B  2 


4  JACK    ASHORE. 

seems  gentler  than  mercy,  yet  is  stronger  than 
death— unrequited  love. 

Susan  had  remarked  Jack's  exalted  tone,  the 
unsettled  flash  of  his  eye,  and  a  slight  quivering 
over  his  white  and  expansive  forehead*  He 
had  been  enacting  the  lion,  and  roaring  fully  up 
to  the  part.  Just  then,  no  one  seemed  inclined 
to  speak  to  or  approach  him.  Already  had  he 
begun  to  talk  somewhat  incoherently. 

*'  My  dear  John,"  said  Susan  going  up  to 
him  with  a  tender  smile,  and  possessing  herself 
of  one  of  his  huge  hands,  **  Come  and  sit  by 
me — I  want  to  speak  to  you.'' 

^^What  says  my  lily  with  the  two  violets 
for  eyes,  and  the  rosebud  lips  ?  Surge !  but 
you  grow  as  sweet  as  the  moonshine  on  a  tiny 
little  wave^*you  do,  Sue  ^  pale,  pale  —  and 
white — ^but  very  pretty  !  What  are  you  like, 
poor  Susan-^what  are  you  like,  my  bending 
branch  of  white  blossoms  ?" 

*^  Be  quiet,  John,  and  don't  talk—but  come 
and  sit  by  me,  and  hear  me  talk." 

^  Not  talk  P  not  talk  ?  and  why  not  talk,  when 
I   have  so  gentle  a  creature  to  talk  to?    Not 


JACK   A8H0RS.  O 

talk?  yes— that  was  all  very  well  to  say  to 
poor  Jack,  the  forecastle  man — but  to  tell 
Sir  John  Truepenny  that  he  is  not  to  talk,  is 
very  absurd— droll,  droll ;  ^  and  he  burst  into 
a  laugh  that  even  the  obtuse  Mrs.  Snowdrop 
found  to  have  something  unnatural  about  it. 

^  To  be  sure  you  shall  talk— but  it  is  not 
fair  for  so  grand  a  gentleman  to  have  all  the 
talk  to  himself — that  would  be  so  proud-like.^ 

'^  Very  well,  we  will  both  talk.  Susan  Snow- 
drop and  Sir  John  Truepenny  shall  talk,  and 
everybody  else  shall  be  silent ;  but  the  baronet 
must  talk  before  the  daughter  of — O  Susan, 
what  a  beast  I  am  ! — only  let  me  tell  you  what 
you  are  like,  and  1^11  listen  to  you  for  an 
hour."* 

"  Agreed — ^it  is  a  bargain,  John — now  go  on — 
but  sit  down  by  me,  and  speak  low— gentlemen 
of  title  always  speak  low  to— to— may  I  say  a 
lady?" 

'^  Ladies,  Susan !  I  don't  know  what  they 
are ;  but  if  they  are  but  half  so  good,  and  so 
gentle,  aitd  so  bearing  and  forbearing,  as  the 
ill.used " 


b  JACK   A9H0RB. 

«  What  am  I  like?' 

*^  All  manner  of  good  and  pleasant  things- 
like  a  sky-sail  made  of  white  jean  —  your 
walk  like  a  ^Mudian  schooner  on  a  bowling — 
when  fyou  smile,  it  i9  like  a  sunbeam  dancing 
hither  and  thither  among  the  sails  when  a 
ship  is  carrying  on  all,  alow  and  aloft — ^your 
breath  is  like  the  sea-breeze  setting  into  Port 
Royal  harbour,  upon  the  face  of  a  poor  fellow 
grappling  with  yellow  Jack — ^your  voice  sounds 
like '  up  anchor,'  on  a  foreign  station,  home- 
ward bound — your  words  and  your  pretty  little 
speeches  come  as  refreshing  as  large  drops  of 
rain  upon  a  poor  devil  parched  up  in  an  open 
boat,  just  dying  with  thirst — ^your  sweet  temper 
is  like  a  gentle  breeze  two  points  abaft  the 
beam — and  if  you  could  be  turned  into  a  ship, 
keeping  all  your  good  qualities,  the  sea  would 
not  be  good  enough  for  you — ^little  cherubs 
would  come  down  for  your  crew,  a  glorious 
angel  would  take  the  helm,  and  you  would  sail 
right  up  aloft,  and  let  go  your  anchor  in 
heaven." 

**  Ah,  John,  this  is  very  fine  talking — but 
Mary  will  be  jealous  P 


JACK   A8UOHB.  7 

'*  Why  should  she  be  jealous,  Sue  ?  Don't 
I  stick  by  her  like  a  man  ?— don't  she  whack  me, 
and  I  she— as  it  may  happen? — don't  I  get 
drunk  with  her  ? — what  more  can  the  woman 
want?  No,  no,  she  need  not  be  jealous.  I 
could  not  whack  you  for  love— nor  for  love  get 
drunk  with  you — why,  I  feels  awkward  a  smok- 
ing when  you  are  by." 

**  Now,  John,  it  is  my  turn.*** 

Then  did  the  poor  creature,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  extort  a  request — the  last  one  she  said  that 
she  would  ever  make — that  he  should  only  for 
that  night  drink  nothing  but  water,  with  the 
exception  of  something  that  she  would  send  him, 
which  he  was  to  take  on  going  to  bed.  She  had 
great  difficulty  in  doing  this ;  but  Sir  John  gave 
his  honour  as  a  man,  and  she  knew  upon  that 
pledge  she  could  depend. 

All  this  was  carried  on  in  a  tone  of  voice  so 
lowy  that  neither  of  the  other  women  could 
overhear  them.  Just  then  Polly  was  too  much 
frightened  to  show  her  displeasure,  and  Mrs. 
Snowdrop  saw  with  infinite  satisfaction  the 
good    understanding   between  Jack  and   her 


8  JACK   ASHORE. 

daughter.  Indeed,  she  now  believed  that  the 
game  was  in  her  own  hand%  and  that  her 
daughter  had  much  more  wit  than  she  had 
hitherto  given  her  credit  for. 

When,  therefore^  Susan  arose,  and  told  her 
that  she  had  made  a  very  agreeable  bargain 
with  Sir  John,  and  that  she  wished  to  go  home 
and  there  remain  till  the  morrow,  her  mother 
did  not  offer  a  single  objection,  but,  the  first 
time  for  many  years,  kissed  her  affectionately 
on  wishing  her  good  night.  Poll  also  was 
tolerably  civil  to  her  on  her  departure,  as»  in 
her  absence^  she  felt  herself  more  secure — 
though,  in  truth,  she  had  not  many  misgivings 
as  to  her  certainty  of  soon  becoming  Lady 
Truepenny. 

Jack  remained,  after  Susan  had  departed, 
for  some  time  in  deep  thought.  At  length 
he  started  up,  and  striking  the  table  heavily 
with  his  hand,  he  exclaimed — '^That  girl's 
an  angel  ~  by  the  three  hairs  on  Mother 
Shipton's  chin,  but  she  was  right  I — ^mad  !  ware 
that,  Jack — ware  that — if  she  were  to  send  me 
all  the  filth  in  the  potecar/s  shop,  Fd  stow  it 


JACK   ASHOEE.  9 

away — I  would.  This  morning  she  saved  me  from 
flogging,  and  to-night  she  has  saved  me  from" — 
he  did  not  say  what,  but  he  shuddered  as  if  he 
had  suddenly  trod  upon  a  toad. 

Sir  John  Truepenny  now  came  forward,  and 
with  an  enforced  composure  shook  the  two 
ladies  by  the  hand,  and  spoke  some  quiet  and 
gracious  words  to  the  very  strong  band  that  had 
now  assembled.  He  did  this  as  a  mental  exercise. 

A  letter  was  now  put  into  the  hands  of  Mrs. 
Snowdrop;  for  she  had  taken  the  command, 
and  had  ordered  every  message  and  missive  to 
be  delivered  to  her.  She  broke  the  seal  with- 
out hesitation,  and  looked  much  annoyed. 
Jack  inquired  the  occasion  of  her  uneasiness, 
and  to  his  astonishment  and  indignation  he 
found  the  letter  addressed  to  himself.  This 
indignation  he  expressed  by  a  dreadful  oath^ 
which  he  was  on  the  point  of  enforcing  by  a 
cuff  of  the  head.  Suddenly  checking  himself, 
he  thus  addressed  her — ^^  For  your  daughter's 
sake,  I  axes  your  pardon  for  my  violence — yes 
— 1*11  give  a  wide  berth  to  everything  that  she 
calls  sightment.    But  I  tell  you,  marm,  once 

B  5 


10  JACK   ASHORE. 

for  all,  you've  taken  a  liberty  that  you  must 
take  DO  more — breaking  open  a  seal  addressed 
to  me  is  just  as  bad  as  breaking  open  my  sea- 
chest,  and  robbing  me  of  my  best  bib  and 
tucker.  And  let  me  overhaul  all  messages 
myself,  marm/' 

"Please  your  honour,  my  lud,^  said  the 
bumboat  woman,  with  an  odd  mixture  of 
pride,  vexation,  and  humility,  "  I  hired  these 
here  rooms." 

"Oh,  ye  did,  did  ye?— when  I  was  mops 
and  brooms?  Very  well — Poll,  let  you  and  me 
tramp — I  dares  to  say  we^U  find  some  other 
place  to  take  us  in." 

Nothing  would  have  pleased  Polly  more  than 
such  a  move ;  for,  so  long  as  Mrs.  Snowdrop 
remained,  she  felt  that  she  possessed  only  a 
divided  empire.  But  Mrs.  Snowdrop  whined, 
and  humbled  herself  into  the  very  dust,  and  at 
length  conciliated  Sir  John  and  Miss  Mary 
Macannister, 

The  letter  was  firom  Mr.  Singleheart,  Jack's 
lawyer.  It  contained  some  guarded  expostula* 
tions  on  the  conduct  he  was  adopting^men- 


JACK  A8H0BK.  II 

tioned  that  he,  Mr.  Singleheart,  would  see  him 
early  next  morning — that  he  proposed  that  they 
should  set  off  for  London  in  the  course  of  the 
next  day — the  sooner  the  better— as  there  was 
much  necessary  business  to  transact ;  and  that  he 
had  taken  the  liberty  of  sending  him  a  tailor,  who 
had  engaged  to  furnish  him  with  sufficient  clothes 
in  time,  to  enable  him  to  travel  as  a  gentleman. 
This  letter  enclosed  one  from  Sir  Edward 
Fortintower,  to  this  effect 

«  Crown  Hotel,  High  Street. 
Wednesday. 

**  Dbae  Sir  John, 
*'You  will  pardon  this  liberty,  in  the  know- 
ledge that  I  take  it  solely  for  your  good.  This 
morning  I  was  proud  to  own  you  as  my  rela- 
tion, but  the  proceedings  of  the  day  have 
almost  made  me  repent  of  my  too  hasty  avowal. 
I  would  never  desire  you  to  forget  the  frankness 
and  honesty  of  your  old,  whilst  I  wish  you  to 
assume  the  propriety  looked  for  from  you  in 
your  new  character.  Surrounded  as  you  are^ 
I  cannot  come  to  see  you ;  I  can  therefore  only 


12  JACK    A8H0BK. 

caution  you  as  your  true  friend.  Follow,  in 
everything,  the  advice  of  your  lawyer,  and 
above  all  things  avoid  excitement,  in  drinking, 
acting,  speaking,  and  even  thinking.  For  one 
man  who  has  lost  his  senses  by  sudden  calamity, 
thousands  have  gone  raving  mad  on  the  acqui- 
sition of  unexpected  wealth.  This  is  a  well- 
known  fact  You  require  as  much  care  and 
quiet  as  a  person  attacked  with  a  brain  fever. 
Let  me  hear  from  you  at  least,  and  you  would 
do  well  to  see  a  medical  man. 

"  Your  well-wisher, 

"Edward  Foetintowee." 

Both  these  letters  being  written  in  a  plain 
bold  hand,  Jack  read  them  very  easily.  He 
reflected  for  some  time,  and  then  sent  for  the 
landlord,  and  inquired  if  there  was  any  one 
below  who  had  inquired  for  him. 

'<  Any  one!*'  said  the  landlord,  lifting  up 
his  hands  in  astonishment  **  Every  one !  at 
least  every  one  has  been ;  there  are  now  between 
thirty  and  forty  persons  waiting  to  see  your 
honour.* 


JACK   ASHOEE*  13 

<'  Any  of  the  Old  Glories?'' 

^  A  great  maoy  of  them  have  been  and 
called — DO  liberty  men— all  officers.*' 

^^  And  I  denied  to  them  !  Mother  Snowdrop. 
Mother  Snowdrop,  how  dare  you  ?** 

''  Oh,  Sir  John,"  said  the  landlord,  <<  they 
all  took  it  in  good  part,  and  said  it  was  very 
proper,  and  very  sensible.  There  is  .still  Mr. 
Slowberry,  one  of  the  young  gentlemen^  below ; 
he  has  been  one  hour  and  a  half  over  his  glass 
of  grog  in  the  coffee-room," 

'*  Give  him  my  humble  duty — no,  no— my 
respects — ^pooh — say  Sir  John  Truepenny  would 
be  happy  to  see  him,  if  he  is  disengaged." 

<'  Don't  do  any  such  thing,"  said  Poll ;  <'  tell 
the  bilking  reefer  to  tumble  up  stairs,  as  the 
barrownight  has  some  orders  to  give  him." 

^^  Hold  your  tongue,  Poll ;  do  as  I  bid  you 
— stop — any  one  come  with  these  letters?" 

'*  Mr.  Snitchy  the  great  tailor,  with  his  fore, 
man  and  first  cutter." 

**  First  cutter !  does  the  cabbaging  son  of  a 
gun  sport  his  first  and  second  cutter  ?" 

**  He  does,  Sir  John.'* 


14  JACK   ASHORE. 


<c 


How  many  oars  does  they  pull  ?-*- has  a 
barge  too,  perhaps  ?  As  good  a  berth  as  port- 
admiral." 

^*  No»  nO|  Sir  John,  Mr.  Snitch  would  as 
soon  get  into  a  cabbage  net  as  into  a  boat — his 
first  cutter  cuts  the  cloth  for  the  dungs  and  the 
fiinte." 

**  Well,  Fve  much  to  lam  yet,  d'ye  see  ■  so 
let  Mr.  Snitch  come  up  with  his  foreman — ^his 
first  cutter  may  cut  his  stick,  and  you  may 
leave  the  flints  on  the  Common  Hard,  and  the 
dungs  where  they  ought  to  be  left.^ 

**  Very  good,  Sir  John  Truepenny,  I  vow ;"" 
and  mine  host  departed,  apparently  much  edi- 
fied 

^*  Shall  we  [day  the  tailors  in,  your  honour  ?^ 
said  the  chief  musician. 

^*  Not  without  you  can  play  the  devil.^ 

<<  We  can  (play  '  the  devil  among  them,^  Sir 
John." 

*^  Off  she  goes,**  said  Sir  John. 

Accordingly,  the  strenuous  band  divided 
itself  into  two  equal  parts,  one  of  which  played 
the  tune  of  the  '*  Devil  among  the  Tailors,** 


JACK   ASHOER.  15 

the  other  that  of,  **  Off  she  goes ;''  and,  as  each 
strove  for  the  mastery,  the  clamour  was  deafen- 
ing. In  the  midst  of  this  riot,  the  midshipman 
entered  with  the  tailors  themselves,  and,  by  his 
looks  of  annoyance  at  the  association,  he  seemed 
to  be  inclined  to  play  the  devil  among  them 
also ;  bat  the  instruments  were  too  overpower- 
ing for  the  middy ;  so  placing  a  finger  in  each 
ear,  he  walked  up  to  Sir  John,  and  grinned  his 
welcome  in  his  face. 

When  the  noise  of  stringed  and  wind  instru- 
ments had  ceased,  there  was  naturally  a  little 
awkwardness  in  the  manner  of  the  present  mid- 
shipman and  the  past  forecastle  man  towards 
each  other.  Mr.  Slowberry,  in  trying  to  con- 
template the  baronet,  could  not  divest  himself  of 
the  idea  of  the  foremast  man ;  and  Sir  John,  in 
endeavouring  to  give  the  social  welcome  of 
equality,  could  not  forget  how  often  the  mid- 
shipman  had  addressed  him  to  the  effect  of, 
'*  Scull  along  there,  you  lazy  lubber,  or  Fll 
freshen  your  way  with  a  rope's  end.*' 

They  looked  at  each  other  and  laughed,  but 
neither  would  speak  first,  lest  he  diould  be 


16  JACK   A8H0RK* 

deemed  to  be  too  condescending.  Sir  John, 
however,  pointed  to  a  decanter  of  port  wine,  of 
which  the  midshipman  filled  a  tumbler,  and 
drank  it  off  deliberately,  and  with  much  inward 
satisfaction.  This  acted  as  the  sesame  to  their 
lips— each  spoke  at  once,  and  the  next  moment 
they  were  in  a  corner  of  the  room  in  deep  con- 
sultation ;  the  result  of  which  was,  that,  shortly 
after,  each  party  was  seen  writing  a  letter, — 
which  was  done  off-hand  by  the  midshipman, 
but  was  performed  by  Jack  with  so  many  con- 
tortions of  the  face,  that  you  would  have  sup- 
posed that  he  had  been  making  mouths  at 
every  letter  as  soon  as  he  had  formed  it. 

The  tailors  having  received  their  orders,  and 
taken  the  necessary  measures  to  furnish  Jack 
with  two  suits  of  clothes,  the  one  the  plain  fit 
of  a  private  gentleman,  the  other  as  natty  a 
sailor's  rig  as  skill  could  produce,  they  were 
deluged  with  grog,  and  played  out  to  the  tune 
of  **  Drops  of  Brandy.*' 

It  was  now  nine  o^clock ;  the  candles  were 
lighted,  the  hot  supper  was  ready — but  where 
were  the  guests  ?    There  was  no  other  stranger 


JACK   ASHORB.  17 

present  but  Mr.  Slowberry,  and  he,  understand- 
ing the  probable  description  of  persons  to  be 
expected,  could  not  be  induced  to  honour  the 
feast  with  his  company.     He  departed. 

After  the  midshipman  had  taken  his  leave, 
Mrs.  Snowdrop  ordered  the  supper  to  be  brought 
in,  and  the  multiplicity  of  the  dishes  caused 
Jack  to  open  his  eyes,  and  exdairo,  **  Mother 
Snowdrop,  and  be  d— ^  t'ye ;  Poll,  you  hussy, 
what's  in  the  wind  now?  This  is  making 
ducks  and  drakes  of  the  baronet's  dibs  with  a 
vengeance." 

Saying  this,  he  harpooned  one  of  the  former 
with  a  carving-fork,  and  held  it  up  menacingly. 
<*  If  there  were  hands  enough  to  eat  all  this, 
Pm  not  the  man  to  grudge  it ;  but  this  is 
turning  the  tables  upon  six  upon  four  to  a  fine 
tune — this  is  three  upon  forty.'' 

**  Just  pipe  to  dinner,  my  dear  Jack,  and 
you'll  open  your  goggles,"  said  the  amiable 
Miss  Mary  Macannister. 

<<  Strike  up  the  '  Roast  Beef  of  Old  Eng^ 
land,'"  said  Sir  John,  flourishing  his  carving- 
fork  with  the  duck  upon  it.  No  sooner  had 
half  of  the  first  bar  of  that  appetite-provoking 


18  JACK   A8H0EE. 

air  oeen  murdered,  than,  marshalled  in  by  mine 
host  and  four  waiters,  dressed  expressly  for  the 
occasion,  in  marched  the  eUte  of  the  Vulgarity 
of  Portsmouth.  Glorious  was  the  display  of 
colours,  various  and  recherch4s  were  the  cos- 
tumes. They  had  been  waiting  below  for 
hours,  but  they  were  not  permitted  to  intrude 
upon  the  baronet's  privacy  until  they  were  sum- 
moned. 

Most  of  the  guests  were  strangers  to  Jack* 
His  company  consisted  of  ladies  prodigal  of 
their  ''charms,  crimps,  tavern-haunters,  animals 
who  obtained  a  precarious  existence  by  singing 
songs  and  humouring  the  follies  of  the  seamen 
in  public  houses,  hucksters,  and  three  or  four 
stout  and  respectable  looking  mates  of  mer« 
chant  vessels. 

If  Jack  was  vexed  that  among  all  these  he 
saw  no  old  shipmate,  he  was  rejoiced  to  see 
that  there  was  not  a  Jew  present.  He  did 
the  honours  remarkably  well ;  and  with  the 
exception  of  thrusting  the  hot  duck  into  the 
face  of  an  indiscreet  crimp^  who  had  thrust 
his  tongue  into  his  cheek  in  deridom  of  Sir 
John's  newly  acquired  dignity,  the  reception 


JACK  ASUOHE.  19 

was    pleasant  and    highly  gratifying   to   all 
parties. 

Were  we  to  give  a  full  description^of  this  sym- 
pofliuin,andtoattempttodo  that  description  any- 
thing approaching  to  justice,  it  would,  of  itself, 
occupy  an  entire  volunie.  We  must  be  brief, 
and  merely  state  that  Jack  sate  upon  an  ele- 
vated chair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  with  Mrs. 
Snowdrop  at  his  right,  and  Mary  Macannister 
at  his  left*  Behind  Jack's  chair  of  state  was 
displayed  his  silken  banner,  with  his  armorial 
bearings  emblazoned  upon  it,  and  it  had  a  very 
gorgeous  effect. 

Before  the  work  of  devastation  began.  Jack 
called  the  landlord,  and  whispered  him  some- 
thing. 

"  Three  bottles  of  gin,  Sir  John  Truepenny  ? 
Did  you  say  three?" 

**  Three,  you  lubber,  and  the  best  you  have 
in  the  house." 

They  were  placed  near  him,  and  Sir  John 
intimated  that  he  should  not  exceed  his  three 
bottles,  but  that  his  moderation  was  not  to  be 


90  JACK   ASHORE. 

taken  as  a  rule  for  the  company.    This  intima- 
tion was  received  with  three  cheers. 

The  assembled  fell  to  with  a  voracity  that 
was  alarming.  The  noise  at  first  was  of  that 
slopping,  whistling,  grunting  description,  which 
comes  so  rurally  and  romantically  upon  the  ear 
from  a  hog-farm  at  feeding-time.  When  every 
one  had  eaten,  as  the  French  say,  de  tout  wn 
aaoul^  it  then  became  evident,  from  signs  more  to 
be  depended  upon  than  any  upon  any  almanack, 
that  the  night  would  set  in  with  hard  drinking. 
And  now  the  clamour  began  to  arise,  and  Jack 
was  Sir  John'd  and  my-lorded  to  a  degree  that 
made  him  heartily  sick  at  his  newly-acquired 
title. 

At  this  period  of  the  evening  a  certain  bar- 
ber, of  whom  more  anon — ^the  poet-laureate  of 
the  amphibious  back-slums — seemed  to  be  very 
uneasily  placed  upon  his  seat ;  and  many  were 
the  looks  that  were  turned  towards  him — looks 
arch  with  curiosity,  or  anxious  with  impatience. 

^*  Silence  for  the  shaver,"  was  now  vocifer- 
ously demanded,  and  then  the.  tonsorial  phe- 
nomenon rose,  with  all  the  dignity  of  concsious 


JACK   ASHOBE.  21 

oratoty,  and  the  vanity  of  much  rhyme,  and  in- 
timated to  the  noble  Jack  that  he  had  com- 
posed a  tribatary  aong  to  his  merits,  which  he 
should  be  proud  to  sing.  Sir  John,  with  an 
imperial  condescension,  gave  the  supplicated 
license,  and,  with  a  little  squeaking,  penny- 
trumpet  voices  the  barber  commenced,  to  a  tune 
of  his  own,  the  following  lyric : 


"  Tbvbpknky  is  m  joUy  knight — 
TsviFiNiiy  is  of  maekle  might, 
PntHT  of  wrong  he  maketh  right. 

In  every  place  and  time ; 
For  should  yon— standing  in  no  awe 
Of  God  or  msA— go  break  the  law. 
Penny  will  get  you  off,  and  draw 

Yon  safely  through  all  crime  1 


i» 


Jack  interrupted  the  bard  of  the  soapsuds  by 
shouting,  "  Belay  there,  miserable  chin-rasper ! 
D*ye  go  for  to  think  that  I  am  such  a  born 
blackguard  as  that  comes  to  ?^ 

**  I  humbly  protest,"  said  the  barber,  **  most 
bountiful  baronet,  that  you  misunderstand 
the  drift  and  scope  of  my  song — it  is  an  alle- 
gorical shadowing  out  of  your  power — ^not  an 


cc 


22  JACK   A8H0RB. 

exposition  of  your  will — ^a  mere  Itisus  verborum 
on  your  honourable  title/' 

Well,    well,*    said    the    relenting    John, 

since  we've  met  for  a  jollification,  you  may 
be  a  little  loose  or  so ;  but  a  joke's  a  joke,  and 
if  the  ladies  don't  mind  your  horum,  why  then 
heave  a-head." 

The  ladies  looked  unutterable  things;  but 
the  barber  being  an  established  favourite,  he 
was  allowed  to  proceed,  and  he  then  chimed 
on-^ 

"  Haye  I  to  trarel  far  or  near. 
Penny  iball  be  my  meaaengei'. 
Nor  time  or  distance  need  I  fear. 

With  PENNY  in  my  poke,  men  ; 
Have  I  bat  pennies  good  and  fine, 
Men  will  be  bidding  me  to  wine. 
Telling  me  all  that's  theirs  is  mine, 

Altho'  'tis  said  in  joke,  men !" 

'<  Avast  P  said  Jack;  "just  swab  that  up. 
I  don't  understand  it,  and  the  little  way  I  can 
see  into  it  I  donH  like.  There,  belay  over  all, 
and  ha'  done.^' 

The  discomfited  poet  made  himself  a  poten- 


JACK   A8H0&E.  33 

tial  mixture,  looked  round  savagely,  drank  it 
at  one  draught,  and  held  his  peace.  There  was 
much  heroism  in  that  man's  composition. 

Then  there  presented  herself  a  fair  and  fat 
volunteer,  of  the  gentler  sex,  who  sang  along 
and  sleepy  ditty  about  a  dove,  which  dove, 
through  about  fourteen  verses,  rhymed  elU 
temately  with  "  above"  and  "  love."  The 
ditty  is  still  extant  in  the  Seven  Dials,  and  is 
well  worthy  of  the  research  of  the  antiquary. 

Now,  among  the  motley  company  was  a 
strange  old  character — an  octogenarian  seaman 
— ^who  had,  it  was  reported,  much  wealth,  and 
who  had  obtained  it,  in  early  life,  by  being  a 
spectator  to  that  most  distressing  of  all  pro- 
menades, the  walking  of  the  plank.  He  was 
a  singular,  a  shrewd,  and  a  morose  old  cha- 
racter, dressed  much  after  the  fashion  of  the 
reign  of  the  first  George,  and  he  seemed  to 
hold  the  seamen  of  this  day  in  something  very 
nearly  bordering  on  contempt.  The  only  name 
by  which  he  was  known  was  **  Noah ;"  and  his 
fame  rested  upon  three  peculiarities ;  the  mys- 


24  JACK   A8H0EE. 

tery  of  hia  early  life,  his  ancient  sea  ditties, 
and  his  perversity  of  temper. 

Through  the  entertainment  he  had  solaced 
himself  with  the  amiable  occupation  of  casting 
contemptuous  and  sarcastic  glances  at  our  hero ; 
but  the  song  had  a  little  diverted  his  resent- 
ment,  and  having,  in  very  homely  words,  cha- 
racterised the  sickness  it  had  produced  upon 
him,  he  announced  his  intention  of  singing. 

This  was  received  with  shouts  of  welcome ; 
and  whilst  every  one  was  expecting  a  long  and 
glorious  sea  burst  in  honour  of  Benbow,  Drake, 
or  some  bold  buccaneer,  he  mystified  his 
audience  by  chanting  the  following  verses,  in 
derision  of  the  lady's  Dove : 

**  I  brnve  m  gallant  cock 
CrowB  for  me  erery  daj, 
He  waketh  me  right  early  still 
Mj  matins  for  to  say. 

» 
I  baye  a  gidlant  cock 

A  comely  little  pet ; 

His  comb  is  like  the  coral  red. 

His  wings  are  black  as  jet. 


JACK    A8H0RV.  35 

T  have  m  g;aine-lired  cock 
Noble  he  u  of  kind. 
He  bean  him  like  a  baroo  bold 
Hia  gorgeoua  traio  behind. 


Hia  tail  ia  rainbow-like, 
Hia  lega  genteel  and  amall, 
Hia  apnra  they  are  of  aiWer  bright, 
Hia  foea  beneath  them  fall. 


Hia  eyea  are  crystal  poola 
Where  float  two  globea  of  amber, 
And  er'rj  night  he  percheth  him 
Beneath  hia  master'a  chamber." 


The  lady,  who  felt  her  song  ridiculed,  flatly 
told  him  she  did  not  believe  a  single  word 
about  his  song,  and  all  the  company  very  ener- 
getically expressed  themselves  as  dissatisfied. 

Old  Noah  rose  from  the  table  in  a  passion, 
spoke  something  in  the  praise  of  one  Henry 
Morgan,  damned  all  upstarts,  consigned  every 
one  then  and  there  to  the  pit  that  has  no  bottom, 
and    walked    off  in  such  a  humour  as  could 

VOL.   II.  c 


96  JACK    ASHOSE. 

only  be  satisfactorily  expended  upon  a  patient 
and  humble  wife. 

Then  ensued  much  more  singing,  with  the 
sea  salt  strong  in  it 

*^  How  is  your  old  woman  ?"  said  one  of  the 
ladies,  taking  advantage  of  a  lull,  to  a  tall 
gawky  youth  who  had  just  escaped  from  among 
the  hogs  of  Hampshire,  to  enter  his  majesty^s 
service,  and  humanise  himself  as  a  marine.  He 
answered,  to  the  astonishment  of  all,  by  a  song, 
and  very  dolefully  he  staved  out, 

"  All  old  women  let  alone. 

For  I  haye  one,  bone  of  mj  bone ; 

I  dare  not  say  my  aoul's  my  own, 

I  dare  not. 

When  I  come  from  tbe  plough  at  noon. 
Hungry  and  tir'd,  I*m  such  a  loon, 
^       To  ask  my  dame  for  knife  or  spoon, 

I  dare  not. 

And  wben  I  ask  my  dame  for  bread, 
She  takes  a  staff  and  breaks  my  bead ; 
And  creep  from  underneath  tbe  bed, 

I  dare  not. 


JACK   ASHORE.  97 

And  if  I  ask  my  dame  for  meaty 
Mj  pate  from  bRMNnstiok  geta  the  troaU* 
When  ahe  looka  aour,  to  dxink  or  eat 

I  dare  not. 

For  if  I  ask  my  dame  for  ebeeae, 
*  Boy/  abe  will  aay,  quite  at  her  eaae, 
'  There,  take  the  rind.'    To  eongh  or  aneeie 

I  dare  not. 

Bot  aoon  111  wed  me  to  Brown  Beaa, 
I'll  aleep  my  sleep,  I'll  eat  my  mess, 
And  to  enjoy  my  happiness, 

111  dare  then/' 

On  the  finish  of  this  stave,  Mrs.  Snow- 
drop very  deliberately,  and  in  her  own  right, 
rose  and  went  and  soundly  boxed  the  ears  of 
the  future  marine,  telling  him  to  treat  the 
ladies,  old  or  young,  with  the  awe  and  respect 
due  from  such  a  noodle  as  himself,  and  to  re- 
member "  the  mother  who  bore  him." 

The  band  sometimes  accompanied  the  various 
singers  in  various  tunes,  which  had  a  most 
pleasant  efiect,  as  generally  the  singing  was 
naught,  and  the  music  worse. 

Then  arose,  in  a  most  stentorian  voice,  from 

02 


28  JACK    ASHORE* 

a  lump  of  mendicaDcy^  clothed  in  multi-tinted 
rags,  the  following  uncalled  for  and  unexpected 
strain. 

'*  Ob,  when  my  pone  was  full,  I  vow 
I  might  hare  bad  both  horse  and  cow, 
And  jolly  drinking  friends  enow 
By  the  virtue  of  my  purse. 

When  my  purse  grew  thin  and  slack. 
When  old  rags  hung  on  my  back 
People  said,  <  Good-bye,  poor  Jack, 
Lucky  to  escape  a  curse 
On  my  empty  head  and  purse. 

No  more  to  drink,  no  more  to  eat, 
Men  no  more  ciril,  women  sweets— 
The  air  may  be  my  drink  and  meat. 

Since  the  draining  of  my  purse. 

Farewell  horse,  and  farewell  cow. 
Farewell  cart,  and  farewell  plough, 
Woman,  man,  I  know  ye  now. 

Better  know  ye  since  I'm  worse, 
Through  the  draining  of  my  purse." 

*'  That's  a  very  sensible  song/'  said  Jack ; 
**  you  seem  in  a  woful  plight  my  friend — storm- 
struck — running  rigging  all  gone,  and  stand- 


JACK   ASHORE.  29 

iDg  rigging  all  running.  You  seem  like  a  hulk 
of  a  fellow — why  don't  you  clap  your  hand 
to  some  rope,  or  tail  on  to  summut  —  and  then 
you'll  be  able  to  bend  better  sails,  and  get  a 
shot  or  so  in  your  purse.** 

*^  Sir  John  Truepenny,  I  was  bom  a  gentle* 
man  -^  a  gentleman  am  I,  and  the  son  of  a 
gentleman,  who  was  descended  from  a  long 
race,  all  of  gentle  blood." 

'*  Oh  r  replied  Jack,  "  no  more  need  be 
said  about  it.  But  it*s  vastly  lucky  for  the 
world  that  the  first  sons  of  Adam  were  not 
bom  gentlemen,  for  if  they  hadn't  a  took  to 
work  like  niggers,  we  should  all  have  been  in 
a  pretty  mess — should  like  to  know  who  was 
the  first  gentleman  —  mayhap  some  of  the 
ladies  or  gemmen  present  can  tell  me.^ 

Everybody  rather  thought  the  first  gentleman 
must  have  been  the  founder  of  his  or  her  particu- 
lar line;  for  it  appeared,  by  their  own  confessions, 
that  a  better  descended  assemblage  of  personshad 
never  before  been  congregated  in  one  apartment; 
and  the  beggar,  especially,  laid  it  down  as  an 
incontrovertible  axiom,  that  '*  iU  fortune  cannot 


30  JACK   ASHOBS. 

corrupt  good  blood  ;^ — all  of  which  was  most 
consolatory  to  Jack. 

After  this  discussion,  which  was  carried  on 
with  much  vehemence,  men  and  women  sang 
separately  and  together,  in  unison  and  in 
emulation ;  the  band  had  been  fed  and  swilled, 
and  began  to  feel  the  sacred  fervour  of  har- 
mony, and  would  not  be  silenced,  though 
they  vainly  endeavoured  to  silence  the  vocal 
displays.  Mrs.  Snowdrop  was  proud  and 
loud,  regulating  and  dictating.  Poll  was 
tender,  loving,  and  shocked,  saying,  **  The 
people  were  so  extremely  low.  Moggy  Bla- 
therchops  astounded  her  delicacy  by  her  vul- 
garity. She  was  sure  Sal  Dimity  bad  not 
washed  her  face  to-day,  and  that  though  some 
people  might  call  Peg  of  Portsea  pretty,  she  was 
certain  her  cheeks  were  made  up  of  brickdust 
and  hog's  lard.  It  was  her  intention  shortly  to 
cut  them  all." 

But  as  the  orgies  proceeded,  it  was  observed 
that  Jack  grew  more  and  more  serious.  He  got 
angry,  and  Poll  thought  that  he  never  before 
seemed  so  savage  as  when  she  attempted  lovingly 


JACK   ASHORE.  31 

to  drink  out  of  his  glass.  He  was  that  night 
a  riddle  to  her.  His  potations  seemed  to  have 
no  other  effect  upon  him  than  to  make  him  the 
more  dull.  The  bumboat  woman  was  fast 
getting  gloriousy  and  expatiated  loudly  upon 
all  that  she  had  done  for  Jack,  and  all  that  she 
yet  would  do,  as  she  intended  to  be  more  than 
a  mother  to  him  and  to  her  Sue. 

"  Upon  this  hint  he  spoke :" — not  Othello,  but 
a  nigger  quite  as  black,  and  a  great  deal  uglier. 
He  was  not  only  a  tolerated  but  a  much  courted 
bufibon  with  one  leg,  who  pretended  to  play 
upon  the  fiddle,  imd  wore,  with  many  additions 
and  emendations,  a  full  admiral^s  uniform. 
When  he  was  neither  in  the  stocks  nor  in  the 
house  of  correction,  he  was  always  to  be  found 
among  the  best  paid  class  of  seamen ;  they  his 
prey,  and  he  their  sport.  The  party  would  not 
have  been  complete  without  him.  He  rose, 
placed  his  gold-laced  cocked  hat  over  his  black 
and  white  wool,  took  it  off  again  with  an  air, 
and  bowed  to  Sir  John  Truepenny. 

This  procured  him  attention  at  the  supper- 


92  JACK   ASHOKE. 

table,  but  the  fiddles  were  still  scraped,  and  the 
bagpipes  howled,  with  ^  damnable  iteration.^ 

**  Yah,  yah  \^  said  the  negro,  twirling  his 
cocked-hat  over  his  head  ;  then  discharging 
it  among  the  band,  he  continued,  ^*  You  no 
sabby  me  lor  high  amiral  go  make  speech — 
silence,  you  debbel,  spose  tink  hab  no  year — 
Goramity — ^why  you  make  honest  people  deaf? 
Now,  hearee !  me  gib  one  grand  toast—- drinkee 
drinkee  much  then  when  me  drink  lun  toast, 
you  dam  fiddles  scrape  like  one  hell  —  ah, 
ah  !  Now  fill  ub  your  glasses— ebery  buckra 
body — here  be  the  health  of  my  lud,  duck, 
prince,  little  king.  Sir  John  Twopence — may 
him  lib  long — hab  lubbley  wife  and  lots  of 
picaninnies.  One,  two,  dree  I  Change  for  a 
penny!     Hurrah!" 

The  band  made  a  grand  crash — the  glasses 
were  emptied,  and  waved  in  the  air — all  rose, 
and  gave  with  stentorian  effect  the  required 
cheers.  The  noise  subsided;  even  the  obsti- 
nate band  became  mute.  Jack  rose  —  he 
scratched    his    titled    head — ^fumbled    in    his 


JACK    ASHOBB.  33 

pockets  fur  his  tobacco-box  without  success- 
looked  angrily  at  Poll — drank  off  a  whole 
tumbler  full  of  gin,  which  feat  produced 
a  faint  cheer — but  neither  the  gin  nor  the 
cheer  produced  any  sound  from  Jack.  So 
he  began  to  show  his  arms  like  a  lion  rampant, 
and  to  move  his  legs  as  if  he  were  running  up 
the  rigging;  he  then  went  through  the  motions 
of  pretending  to  hold  the  spokes  of  the  wheel  as 
if  he  was  steering,  and  then  swinging  his  right 
arm  round  and  round,  he  sang  out,  in  a  clear 
melodious  tone,  **  By  the  deep  niue;"  and  after 
each  of  these  pantomimic  actions  he  dashed  the 
back  of  his  rough  hand  hurriedly  across  his 
eyes,  and  shook  his  head  mournfully.  When 
he  had  performed  all  this,  he  held  out  both  of 
his  arms  before  him,  closed  his  fists,  and  shook 
them  as  if  he  were  shaking  hands  with  vacancy. 
He  then  waved  his  right  hand  with  Poll's  white 
handkerchief  in  it,  as  if  he  were  bidding  fare^ 
well  to  a  vessel  hull  down  in  the  distance.  It 
was  very  moving ;  and  as  Jack  loo.ked  sad  and 
serious,  some  of  the  ladies  began  to  blubber, 
(especially  those  who  had  drank  most,)  because 

0  5 


34  JACK  ASHORE. 

they  oould  in  no  maimer  oomprdiend  what  he 
meant 

Like  a  practised  orator,  Sir  John  gave  time 
for  the  tender  emotions  which  he  had  excited 
to  subside ;  then  taking  his  straw,  round,  and 
ribbon  decorated  hat,  he  crushed  it  flat,  and 
placing  it  under  his  arm  as  if  it  had  been  a 
chapeau  bras^  he  grinned  like  a  newly  caught 
baboon,  and  made  the  company  several  very 
fantastical  bows.  He  then  took  the  bell-puU, 
and  cut  off  the  large  brass  ring  at  the  end  of 
it,  with  about  a  yard  of  the  broad  ribbon  at- 
tached, which  he  very  coolly  made  into  a  collar 
for  his  neck,  and,  using  the  ring  as  a  spy-glass, 
leisurely  surveyed  through  it  every  person  at 
table  with  an  air  of  consummate  disdain*  Every 
one  was  convulsed  with  laughter,  excepting  the 
particular  person  under  surveillance.  After 
this  he  drew  a  skewer  from  out  of  a  round  of 
veal,  and  having  cut  it  in  two,  and  thrown  both 
pieces  away,  sate  down  amidst  three  distinct 
rounds  of  applause. 

When  order  had  been  a  little  restored,  one 
Peter  Samey,  a  noted  public-house  spouter. 


JACK   ASHO&E.  35 

who  had  long  discoYered  that  it  was  beneath 
the  moral  dignity  of  a  free-bom  Englishman 
to  cobble  shoes,  when  the  constitution  of  the 
country  and  the  political  condition  of  its  inhabi- 
tants stood  in  so  much  need  of  repair,  rose  and 
said, 
*^  Countrywomen  and  countrymen  l^ 
<<  We  ain't  l^  shrieked  out  a  dozen  voices. 
*^  Ladies  and  gentlemen !  why  should  I  so 
much  disgrace  you*  by  calling  you  by  names 
that  signify  the  hydra-headed  spawn  of  bloated 
and  fat  corruption — corruption,  that,  with  its 
ravenous  and  skeleton  voracity,  spreads  the 
table  of  gorging  repletion,  and  makes  this  ooce 
happy  country  a  vast  arena  of  destitution  and 
famine — ^a  destitution  the  more  deplorable  be- 
cause  it  is  not  felt — a  famine  the  more  terrific 
because  its  horrors  are  not  scanned  by  the  gross, 
dull,  and  over-fattened  population  ?  But  though 
not  subject  to  wandering,  I  am  wandering  from 
my  subject.  You  have  beard  the  rich  streams 
of  eloquence  that  just  now  have  flowed,  like  the 
immovable  mountains  fixed  in  their  adaman- 
tine foundations,  from  the  melliflupus  lij)s  of 


36  JACK    ASHORE. 

our  worthy  host.  You  have  heard  it — and, 
hearing,  you  have  approved  —  you  have  ap- 
proved it,  and  approving,  you  have  rejoiced — 
you  have  rejoiced  at  it,  and  rejoicing,  you  have 
been  glad ;  but  let  me  tell  you — and  I  tell  it 
you  with  all  deference — that  neither  your  ap* 
probation,  nor  your  rejoicing,  nor  your  glad- 
ness, have  been  worthy  of  the  splendid  oratory 
that  welled  forth  from  the  eloquent  mouth  of 
Sir  John  Truepenny.  You  have  been  addressed 
by  a  sable  son  of  humanity." 
Da  me,"  said  the  negro. 
It  ia  you,  my  brother  in  the  black  binding 
— ^it  is  you,  my  dingy  purity.  Are  you  not, 
physically  speaking,  the  whitest  of  the  com- 
pany ?''    _ 

**  Debbel  take  de  physic.^ 

'*  I  say  that  you  are  the  least  coloured 
amongst  us — it  is  not  you  but  we  that  are 
coloured  folks.  Read,  read^  my  friends! 
White  is  the  union,  and  mixture,  and  aggre- 
gation of  all  colours — ^how  coloured,  then,  must 
we,  who  call  ourselves  white,  be?  And  black 
being  the  absence  of  all  colour,  how  absurd  is 


cc 


JACK  ASHORE.  37 

it  to  call  our  friend  a  man  of  colour,  who  has 
no  colour  whatever?' 

"  What  a  lie !  He's  laughing  at  us  !*  and 
other  disagreeable  exclamations,  interrupted 
our  orator.  He  was  used  to  it,  however,  and 
so  he  proceeded. 

^*  Well,  my  friends,  what  does  all  this  mean  ? 
It  proves  to  demonstration,  without  the  shadow 
or  the  colour  of  a  doubt — I  told  you  how  the 
discourse  upon  colour  would  apply — ^it  proves 
that  we  are  bound  to  give  the  health,  in  nine 
times  nine,  of  the  future  Lady  Truepenny/' 

The  conclusion  of  the  harangue  indemnified 
the  company  for  its  length  and  sublime  obscu- 
rity. The  applause  was  terrific.  Poll  and 
Mrs.  Snowdrop  grew  scarlet.  Jack  maintained 
an  imperturbable  gravity.  The  two  ladies 
rose  together.  The  crisis  had  arrived.  The 
hollow  truce  was  about  to  terminate. 

^<  I — "  said  Polly,  with  amiable  confusion. 
^^  I — "  said  the  bumboat  woman,  with  arro- 
gant assumption. 

^*  You  r  said  Poll,  turning  up  her  nose  with 
ineffable  disdain. 


38  JACK    ASHORE. 

^^  You  !^  said  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  showing  com- 
bativeness  in  every  feature. 

*^  Set  down,  you  fat,  old,  filthy  abomina^ 
tion  r*  screamed  PolL 

^^  Set  down  yourself,  you  commod  hussy, 
and  let  a  decent  woman  speak/' 

There  was  the  awful  pause  so  usual  and  so 
ominous  before  hurricanes.  Jack  remained  as 
grave  as  a  tombstone,  and  drank  off  another 
tumbler  of  gin  without  flinching,  to  the  admi* 
ration  of  everybody.  The  band  was  silent,  and 
looked  on  with  trepidation.  A  little  bandy- 
legged fifer  produced  a  small  quivering  note, 
and  got  his  ear  pulled  for  his  temerity. 

**  Gro  it !"  at  last  exclaimed  several  encou- 
raging voices,  and  the  two  ladies  did  "  go  it" 
Immediately  everything  within  the  reach  of  the 
one  went  at  the  head  of  the  other.  The  com* 
pany  espoused  different  sides.  At  first,  mere 
locality  seemed  to  decide  on  which  side  each 
party  should  combat.  But  the  order  of  the 
fight  was  soon  broken,  and  all  was  admired 
confusion.  Jack  alone  remained  neutral,  and 
chuckled  over  the  row.     But  the  missiles  were 


JACK  A8HORB.  39 

80on  exhausted.  It  was  pleasant  and  very 
edifying  to  behold  how  carefully  everybody 
drained  the  decanter  or  the  glass  before  it  was 
discharged  at  an  adversary's  head.  The  con- 
sequence of  this  was,  that  more  were  overcome 
by  liquor  than  by  blows.  Several  fell  as  if 
shot,  inanimately  drunk,  after  a  heavy  draught 
of  pure  spirits.  The  band  caught  the  prevail- 
ing mania,  and  rang  out,  ^'  Britons,  strike 
home  1"  The  hubbub  was  horrible,  but  being 
too  violent  to  last,  a  sullen  lull  ensued. 

But  the  angry  and  the  bad  feelings  of  the 
two  principal  Amazons  were  not  lulled — those 
nothing  could  lull — nothing  even  make  tolera^ 
ble — but  a  fistic  encounter. 

The  table  was  thrust  to  the  wall,  the  broken 
glass  removed  from  the  middle  of  the  room, 
the  dead  drunk  piled  up  in  one  comer,  and  a 
ring  was  formed.  Neither  lady  was  a  novice 
in  the  pugilistic  art.  Each  of  them  would  have 
scorned  the  feminine  and  rat-like  acts  of  biting, 
pinching,  or  pulling  at  the  hair.  They  hit  out 
straightforward  and  manfully,  and  they  were 
not  unequally  matched.    What  Mrs.  Snowdrop 


40  JACK    ASHORE. 

wanted  in  activity,  she  made  up  in  strength  and 
stamina.  Jack  had  seen  his  Poll  fight  before, 
and  he  knew  that  she  was  game ;  so  he  looked 
forward  to  the  result  with  much  calmness, 
secretly  wishing  that  the  bumboat  woman  might 
get  a  good  thrashing. 

We  must  adopt  the  classical  style  of  the 
fancy  in  recording  this  fight.  Both  women 
came  to  the  scratch  all  the  worse  for  the  want 
of  previous  training.  It  was  impossible  to  dis- 
cover which  had  suffered  most  in  the  previous 
skirmish,  as  both  were  covered  from  head  to 
foot  with  gravy,  melted  butter,  wine,  and  spirits. 
Betting  even :  Mrs.  Snowdrop  for  choice. 

Round  the  first.  A  little  cautious  sparring. 
Poll  attempted  her  favourite  one,  two,  but  was 
very  cleverly  stopped  by  the  bumboat  woman, 
who  threw  in  a  terrific  whistler  in  the  bread- 
basket. Overreached  herself,  and  fell.  Two 
to  one  on  Mrs.  Snowdrop. 

Second.  Polly  came  up  piping  at  her  bel- 
lows, but  quite  game.  The  bumboat  woman 
too  confident ;  and,  in  endeavouring  to  make 
play,  received  a  terrible  facer,  which  drew  the 


JACK   ASHO&E.  41 

first  blood,  the  claret  pouring  out  of  both  nos- 
trils. They  closed,  and  both  down:  Poll 
uppermost.    Betting  even. 

Third.  Polly  too  gay.  Placed  some  good 
hits,  and  got  away  cleverly.  Mrs.  Snowdrop 
made  herself  up  for  mischief,  and  delivered  a 
smasher  on  each  of  Polly's  eyes,  that  made 
them  strike  light  like  a  new  steel  upon  a  good 
flint  Both  parties  piping  for  second  wind. 
The  confusion  very  great,  and  the  ring  broken. 

But  we  have  already  grown  disgusted  with 
the  scene,  and  we  shall  merely  state  that  several 
rounds  were  fought,  and  that,  in  the  intervals, 
the  music  sounded  merrily.  Already  had  vic- 
tory all  but  declared  for  Mary  Macannister, 
when  the  ill-guarded  door  was  suddenly  broken 
open,  and  a  large  posse  of  constables  and  watch  • 
men  made  their  unwelcome  appearance. 

The  short  row  that  ensued  was  intense.  In  the 
midst  of  this  confusion  Jack  showed  the  true 
coolness  and  intrepidity  of  a  British  tar.  His 
Poll  was  still  screaming  and  swearing,  stamping 
and  flinging  about  her  arms,  the  very  centre  of 
the  disturbance,  and  the  prize  that  the  consta- 


42  JACK   ASHORB. 

bles  seemed  most  bent  upon  making*  The 
emergency  was  pressing.  Sir  John  seized  the 
immense  bass  viol  from  the  feeble  hand  in 
which  it  was  trembling,  and,  lifting  it  high 
above  the  head  of  the  once  sharer  of  his 
hammock,  it  came  down  with  the  centre  of 
its  broader  end  upon  her  scull,  which  it  im- 
mediately admitted,  and  let  through.  Her 
head  poked  through  the  instrument,  and  looked 
round  with  bewilderment  two  or  three  seconds; 
but  Sir  John  knew  that  no  time  was  to  be 
lost ;  so,  towing  her  along  with  tiiis  musical 
grappling-iron,  he  lugged  her  to  the  side  door, 
dragged  her  in,  and  locked  it;  so,  before  the 
peace  officers  could  ask,  ^^  Where  is  she  ?^  she 
had  departed  in  peace,  and  was  nowhere. 

A  few  escaped  by  the  front  door  as  the 
watchmen  entered.  The  many  drunken  were 
wheeled  in  barrows  to  the  watchhouse;  the 
half-drunken  handcuffed,  and  consigned  to 
the  same  parochial  hospitality.  The  various 
members  of  the  baud,  being  much  too  poor 
to  have  any  douceur  to  offer,  were  kicked  down 
stairs  into  the  street,  and  dismissed. 


JACK   A8H0EE.  43 

Mrs.  Snowdrop  was  taken  to  the  watch- 
house  in  a  miserable  plight,  but,  soon  procuring 
bail,  she  was  led  home  in  a  most  wretched  con- 
tion,  both  of  body  and  mind* 

But  the  constabulary  looked  in  vain  for  the 
grand  prize.  When  they  broke  open  the  door 
that  led  to  the  best  bedroom,  through  which 
Jack  and  Poll,  with  her  head  through  the  bass 
viol,  had  retreated,  they  found  the  room  empty. 
The  fugitives  were  not  to  be  found.  They 
had  escaped  by  the  backway,  and  it  was  pru- 
dently considered  that  pursuit  would  be  useless 
Thus  ended  Jack's  first  day  ashore. 


44  JACK    ASHORE. 


CHAPTER  IL 

Specimen  of  correspondence  worthy  of  the  elegant  letter- 
writer— A  landlord,  like  a  storki  judged  bj  the  length  of 
his  bUl— 4he  bill  not  bo  lucky  as  Giles  Grimm,  the  latter 
being  discharged — The  light  of  other  days  goes  out  for  a 
time — ^by  keeping  in. 

Portsmouth,  its  dirty  suburbs  and  its  clean 
fortifications,  next  day  resounded  with  the 
fame  of  Jack,  but  Jack  and  bis  lady  had  dis- 
appeared. No  traces  could  be  discovered  of 
them,  and  this  mystery  created  an  interest  for 
our  hero  of  a  still  deeper  intensity*  The  ac- 
count, faithful  in  its  leading  particulars,  but 
greatly  exaggerated,  of  the  previous  supper, 
with  its  characteristic  finale,  was  the  only  topic 
of  conversation,  with  a  well-authenticated  anec- 
dote, that,  after  the  Blue  Posts  was  cleared,  the 


JACK   ASHORE.  45 

honest  landlord,  with  his  wife,  and  a  trusty  waiter, 
armed  with  heavy  hammers  and  the  kitchen 
poker,  went  very  carefully  over  the  whole  of  the 
house,  and  smashed  to  atoms  all  the  old  and 
injured  furniture ;  after  which  they  called  in 
a  half  dozen  of  their  respectable  neighbours, 
that  they  might  bear  witness  to  the  havoc  that 
Sir  John  Truepenny's  party  had  made  in  this 
once  handsomely  furnished  and  respectably 
conducted  house. 

Whilst  Sir  Edward  Fortintower  and  Mr. 
Singleheart  were  at  breakfast  discussing  all  this 
news,  with  which  mine  host  of  the  Crown  had 
made  them  duly  acquainted,  two  letters  were 
brought  in,  the  one  addressed  to  the  baronet, 
the  other  to  the  lawyer.  We  will  give  the 
last-mentioned  first. 

^^  Sir  John  Truepenny  acquaints  his  attorney} 
Mr.  Singleheart,  that  it  will  not  suit  Sir  John^s 
convenience  to  permit  his  attorney  to  accom- 
pany him  to  London  for  some  days ;  and  when 
Sir  John  shall  repair  thither,  he  begs  his 
attorney  to  provide  a  conveyance  for  himself; 


46  JACK   ASHOBE. 

for  it  neither  coincides  with  Sir  John's  wishes^ 
nor  suits  with  his  relative  position  towards  his 
attorney,  to  admit  him  as  a  travelling  compa- 
nion* It  may  not  be  irrelevant  to  acquaint  his 
attorney,  that  on  all  occasions  Sir  John  in* 
tends  to  support  the  dignity  of  his  order. 

^*  Merely  for  the  information  of  his  lawyer, 
Sir  John  Truepenny  acquaints  him  that  it  is 
probable  that  Sir  John  may  proceed  to  town  ac- 
companied by  a  gentleman  every  way  worthy 
to  be  the  associate  of  a  personage  of  Sir  John's 
rank,  honourable  descent,  wealth,  and  distinc- 
tion. This  gentleman  is  Mr.  Slowberry, 
midshipman  of  H.  M.  S.  Glory ;  and  Sir  John 
requests  that  his  lawyer  will  use  all  his  influ« 
ence  with  the  Port-admiral,  Captain  Firebrass, 
and  Sir  Edward  Fortintower,  to  procure  a 
month's  leave  of  absence  for  Samuel  Slowberry, 
Esq.,  in  order  that  Sir  John  Truepenny  may 
meet  with  no  disappointment.  Sir  John  intir 
mates  to  his  lawyer  that  his,  his  lawyer^  inte- 
rests will  materially  be  affected  by  the  accom- 
plishment of  Sir  John's  and  Mr.  Slowberry's 
wishes  in  this  respect. 


JACK   ASHORE.  47 

'*  Sir  John  wishes  to  add,  by  way  of  postscript, 
that  he  intends  to  take  lessons  in  arithmetic 
immediately,^  and  that  he  shall  be  a  rigid  exa- 
miner into  his  own  accounts ;  and  acting  upon 
the  advice  of  his  dear  and  enlightened  fnend, 
Mr.  Slowberry,  he  desires  that  everything  shall 
be  done  according  to  Cocker. 

''Blue  Posts  Hotel,  Wednesday  evening** 

When  Mr.  Singleheart  had  read  this  note, 
which  was  written  in  a  bold  and  free  hand,  at 
least  three  times  over,  he  commenced  whistling 
so  violently,  that  he  made  Sir  Edward  look  up 
irom  the  evidently  difficult  task  with  which 
he  was  engaged.  It  was  the  deciphering 
the  fallowing  epistle^  which  the  reader  will 
have  no  difficulty  in  making  out,  if  he  will 
attend  only  to  the  sound, — that  being  Jack's 
only  orthographical  rule. 

*'  honered  Sir  and  very  deer  friend. 
"  Yor  dish  Patch  yor  um  Bell  servant  2 
com  Mand  was  Due  ly  receved  bulk  broke  hit 
Set  Era.    i  wont  go  Mad  yer  honer— bilged 


48  JACK    A8H0SE. 

the  grog — Moors  the  Pitty.  Sosh  I  hates 
musn't  be  cut  Adrift  2  soon — cause  y.  a  semun 
wont  strip  his  Masts  of  his  hold  rigging  till 
his  nu  be  kwite  Red  Die.  Eye  hoft  10  uve 
thot  how  behoven  i  Ham  2  yer  honer — there  4 
will  try  2  mend  my  Manors.  Konsed  Dring 
poor  gyles  grim  as  bin  Moor  than  hay  pay 
Rent  2  Me  hand  brot  roe  Hup  handmaid 
amen  of  Me,  Eye  wud  bles  yor  honer  nite 
handy,  Hif  yor  honer  wud  Gettim  dis  Charged 
Cosy  2  be  hay  pay  Rent  2  me  Still — mi  Du  Ty 
2  Miss  Tertumee,  hand  Please  Tellim  hive 
haxed  1  Mitchmite  ov  the  Glory  2  rite  hay 
Respect  Able  letter  2  sasmuch — niver  Yew 
fonk  yer  honer,  but  jackal  du  well  yet — lettim 
have  is  pree  Hout,  hand  then  heelcum  the 
barronit  grand — ham  Goen  2  kut  mystic  from 
the  Blewpostesses,  sea  Inn  hasow  they  Charges 
eye,  hand  his  low  Rue  Inn  Nation  as  bin  plaid 
hat  the  Blewpostesses,  Butt  hive  hordred  no 
Think  hand  brok  no  Think,  hand  dontin  Tend 
2  pa  4  no  Think — But  the  bum  Boat  hummem 
Eye  Sal  Cull  Late  will  ave  2  pa  Haul ;  sarveser 
Rite.     Miss   Terslpppery   the   mid    Die  says 


JACK   ASHORE.  49 

sassee  has  ow  eye  must  larn  gallows  grappy  and 
bog  grappy»  with  punk  2  hation,  hand  sin  Tax 
with  haxidents— -dredful  things  2  larn  sure  Lie. 
Butt  if  highmust  imust,  hand  then  He  pis  tol 
yer  honer  Propper.  Hile  kepe  if  you  Pleas  1 
da  or  2  Inn  Hobs  Skewer  hit  Eye  cos  y — Poll 
av  got  2  hits  on  her  2  Eyes^  wich  makes  hir 
luk  Ilk  ha  Pie  Rat,  Sea  Inn  assow  she  shoes 
black  Cull  Hers,  the  wind  his  Rit  aft,  hand 
Eyemust  drive  hay  4  hit  for  Sum  Tim.  Eye 
ave  got  hay  sea  Grit,  hand  praps  2,  2  Tell  yer 
honer.  Sow  till  then  yer  honer^s  um  Bell  sar- 
vant  2  Come  and 

Sir  John  Truepeeny,  barren  nit. 

Hit  set  Era.'' 

Like  two  well-paid  sucking  diplomatists^  the 
friends  exchanged  credentials.  Both  were  much 
astonished  at  the  impudence  of  Mr.  Midshipman 
Slowberry,  who  had  thus  shamefully  taken 
advantage  of  Jack's  ignorance ;  for  it  was  ap- 
parent that  he  knew  nothing  of  the  precious 
contents  of  the  insolent  note  forwarded,  in  his 
name,  to  Mr.  Singleheart. 

VOL.  IT  D 


50  JACK    A8H0BE. 

<<  It  is  but  of  little  use,"  said  Sir  Edward, 
^*  to  speculate  upon  Jack's  doings,  for  some 
days  at  least  Really  I  don't  fear  much  for 
him.  He  has  applied  neither  to  you  nor  to 
the  bank  for  cash,  and  the  way  in  which  it  is 
apparent  that  he  is  defeating  the  bumboat 
woman's  machinations,  and  punishing  her  for 
them  into  the  bargain,  displays  great  tact  and 
shrewdness." 

*^  I  should,  lawyer  as  I  am,  and  thus  bound  to 
respect  the  laws,  wish  to  break  them  in  a  slight 
manner,  by  breaking  this  impudent  Mr.  Slow- 
berry's  pate.  Though  I  am  no  longer  young, 
my  arm  is  still  strong  enough  to  wield  a  strong 
cudgel — ^" 

^'  Nonsense.  Leave  him  to  me.  I  like  Jack^s 
feeling  for  his  old  shipmate.  Let  us  go  to  the 
admiral's  office,  and  see  what  we  can  do  in  the 
matter." 

Thither  they  repaired,  and  found  three  or 
four  admirals  with  Captain  Firebrass,  and  some 
other  captains.  The  conversation  turned  upon 
no  other  subject  than  Sir  John. 

"  O  here  comes  Sir  Edward  Fortintower  !*• 


JACK   A8H0BB.  61 

said  Captain  Firebrass.  *'  Any  news  of  your 
kinsman,  and  my  late  captain  of  the  forecastle  ? 
He  has  vanished  like  a  water-spout.  It  is  now 
one  o'clock)  and  no  tidings  have  been  obtained 
of  him  since  he  and  his  girl  so  cleverly  evaded 
the  constables  last  night'' 

*^  I  don't  know  more  than  yourself— but  t 
do  not  fear  much  on  his  account." 

'^  Oh !  I  see  that  screw,  the  landlord  of  the 
Blue  Posts — let^s  have  him  in,  and  hear  the  true 
account  of  his  disappearance,**  said  one  of  the 
admirals. 

This  was  done,  and  the  whole  party  were 
made  exceedingly  merry  at  the  relation  of 
the  various  fun  that  had  been  exhibited  ;  but 
they  were  all  seized  with  a  sudden  respect  for 
Jack,  when  they  heard  that  he  had  kept  him- 
self  quite  sober  during  the  whole  evening,  and 
that  he  had  made  the  landlord  bring  him  three 
bottles  of  spring  water,  which  he  had  passed  off 
for  Geneva. 

The  landlord  of  the  Blue  Posts  then  took 
his  opportunity  respectfully  to  inquire  if  any  of 
the    gentlemen     present    could    inform    him 

d2 


52  JACK    A6H0BS* 

where  Sir  John's  lawyer  or  agent  oould  be 
found. 

Mr.  Singleheart  immediatdj  stepped  forward, 
and  the  conscientious  landlord  placed  in  his 
hands  a  tremendous  bill,  for  supper^  lodgings, 
breakages,  and  the  hire  of  musicians,  servants, 
and  constables — ^among  which  items  the  viol 
that  had  served  as  a  pillory  for  Poll's  head 
was  not  forgotten. 

Mr.  Singleheart  looked  over  the  bill  with 
unfeigned  astonishment,  and  then  announced 
the  astounding  sum  total  to  the  gentlemen 
about  him.  It  amounted  to  two  hundred  and 
fifty-three  pounds  seventeen  shillings  and  nhie- 
pence  three  farthings.  Extortion  is  always 
very  particular  as  to  fractions. 

It  appears  t9  me,**  said  Mr.  Singleheart, 

that  supposing  there  were  fifty  persons  in- 
vited, they  must  have  drunk  at  least  three 
bottles  of  the  most  expensive  wines  a-piece. 
Here  is  glass  and  china  enough  broken  to  fit 
out  any  shop  in  the  town.  However,  it  would 
be  silly  in  me  to  quarrel  with  the  items,  wh&k  I 
don^t  intend  to  pay  a  farthing  of  the  sum  total. 
I  have  my  client's  instructions  to  that  efiect.'* 


JACK   A6HOR£.  53 

Jack's  letter  was  read,  which  afforded  infinite 
amusement  to  all  present,  excepting  mine  host. 
He  looked  bluer  than  his  own  posts,  and  began 
a  whining  expostulation. 

^  Who  hired  the  roomq?"  aaid  Mr.  Singleheart. 

**  Mrs.  Snowdrop,"  answered  mine  host,  rue* 

fully. 

**  Who  ordered  the  supper  ?^ 

"  Mrs-  Snowdrop.** 

*'  Who  invited  the  guests  ?** 

♦*Mr8.  Snowdrop." 

**  Who  ordered  the  band,  the  wines,  the  ex- 
tra waiters  ?' 

*•  Mrs.  Snowdrop.** 

«<  And  who  destroyed  all  this  furniture  but 
the  guests  that  Mrs.  Snowdrop  invited,  who  in 
their  drunkenness  have  committed  all  this  de* 
irastationp  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  to  be  sure.  It 
appears,  by  your  own  showing,  that  my  client 
had  not  even  touched  any  of  these  vast 
varieties  of  intoxicating  liquors  enumerated  in 
your  very  singular  bill.  To  Mrs.  Snowdrop, 
then,  you  must  look  for  payment.** 

*^  But  it  was  all  in  the  name  of  Sir  John 
Truepenny." 


54  JACK   A8H0EE. 

**  And  then--8upposing  Mrs*  Snowdrop  bad 
ordered  it  in  the  name  of  Admiral  Sir  Isaac 
Coffin,  would  your  case  be  better  ?  You  have 
just  told  us  that  Sir  John  was  brought  to  your 
house  completely  dmnk.  He  could  not,  had 
he  been  so  inclined,  have  given  you  a  legal 
order  for  this  expenditure — ^but  he  did  not — 
he  denies  it— -he  says  that  he  ordered  nothing, 
and  that  he  broke  nothing,  and  very  rightly 
adds  that  he  will  pay  for  nothing." 

*<But  the  bass-vioV  said  Captain  Firebrass, 
laughing.  **  Til  never  own  Sir  John  as  a 
shipmate,  if  he  don't  pay  for  that.  I  would 
give  a  dozen  of  wine  to  have  seen  Poll's  head 
through  it,  and  she  taken  in  tow  by  Jack,  as 
Jack  ought  to  have  done,  she  being  a  disabled 
ship,  out  of  the  action.^' 

**  The  bass-viol  must  have  a  case  to  itself 

**  It  is  already  in  so  bad  a  case,  that  a  case 
will  now  be  of  no  service  to  it,"  said  Fire- 
brass. 

*^  I  see  the  fiddle  down  in  the  bill  at  twenty 
guineas,  I  am  struck  at  the  moderation  of  the 
charge ;   get  Mrs.  Snowdrop  to  pay  it ;  and 


JACK   ASHORE.  55 

afterwards  it  shall  be  a  matter  of  account  be- 
tween  her  and  Sir  John  Truepenny.^ 

The  landlord  of  the  Blue  PoRts,  thinking 
that  no  time  was  to  be  lost,  posted  off)  with  a 
fresh  heading  to  his  bill,  to  lay  it  before  the 
discomfited  bumboat  woman.  What  ensued 
at  this  meeting  we  cannot  just  now  record. 

Sir  Edward  took  this  opportunity  to  apply 
for  the  discharge  of  quartermaster  Giles  Grimm. 
It  was  not  only  obtained  immediately,  but  ob- 
tained honourably  and  profitably  for  the  old 
seaman.  He  was  immediately  placed  as  a  pen- 
sioner of  the  most  favoured  class  in  Greenwich 
Hospital,  with  leave  to  retire  thither  whenever 
he  chose  to  spend  there  the  calm  remnant  of 
his  days  in  comfort  and  peace. 

Mr.  Slowberry's  request  for  leave  of  absence 
met  a  fate  somewhat  dissimilar.  It  flung  Cap- 
tain Firebrass  into  a  passion,  and  that  unfor- 
tunate reefer  having  brought  the  captain  ashore 
in  the  barge,  and  being  then  in  attendance  on 
the  outside  of  the  admiral's  oflice,  he  was  sent 
for  immediately. 

He  entered,  nothing  doubting  the  good  sue- 


56  JACK   A8H0B£« 

cess  of  his  application, .  and  was,  in  his  own 
mind,  already  rejoicing  in  a  month's  jovial 
cruise  at  the  expense  of  the  baronet,  besides 
other  contingent  advantages  that  must  arise 
from  a  connexion  so  auspiciously  begun. 

^^  Is  that  your  handwriting  ?*^  was  the  first 
terrible  question  put  to  him  by  the  terrible 
voice  of  the  terrible  Captain  Firebrass. 

He  confessed  *'  the  harsh  impeachment.'' 

'^  Now,  don't  lie,  sir;  did  Sir  John  know 
the  contents  of  this  impudent  note  ?' 

*^  I  gave  it  him  to  read,  if  you  please,  sir.^ 

^^  Did  he  read  it  ?  Was  he  fully  aware  of 
its  precious  contents  ?** 

'^  I  cannot  positively  say.  I  thought,  sir, 
that  there  was  no  harm  in  putting  in  a  good 
word  for  myself." 

"  Your  fidelity  to  your  own  interests  shall 
be  fully  rewarded.  I  have  a  great  mind  to 
disrate  you,  and  send  you  before  the  mast,  and 
thus  make  you  take  the  situation  that  the  per- 
son whom  you  wished  to  make  your  dupe 
formerly  held — only  you  could  never  do  his 
duty.     It  is,  therefore,  my  orders  that  you  go 


JACK   A8H0&K*  57 

on  board  immediately^  and  consider  yourself  a 
prisoner  unti}  I  have  settled,  in  my  own  mind, 
some  punishment  that  is  meet  for  you." 

**  I  would  rather  take  it  out  in  drink,''  was 
the  muttered  reply,  but  in  a  tone  so  low  that  it 
entirely  escaped  Captain  Firebrass's  ear.  To 
him  it  appeared  that  Mr.  Slowberry  looked 
excessively  contrite,  as  he  touched  his  hat,  and 
retired  with  a  downcast  countenance. 

Mr.  Singleheart  and  Sir  Edward  began  both 
to  laugh,  as  the  answer  tickled  their  fancy, 
particularly  that  of  the  lawyer.  This  led  to 
an  explanation,  but  it  was  not  given  until  a 
promise  had  been  extorted  from  the  captain 
that  he  would  look  leniently  upon  the  offence. 

Trivial  as  was  this  circumstance,  it  operated 
favourably  for  Slowben*y ;  for  that  very  delibe- 
rate young  officer,  a  little  to  his  astonishment, 
and  a  very  great  deal  to  his  satisfaction,  heard 
no  more  of  the  matter. 

The  conversation  at  the  office  then  fell  upon 
Sir  John,  and  consisted  principally  of  conjec- 
tures as  to  the  time  and  manner  of  that  im- 

D  5 


58  JACK  ASUOtfS. 

portant  personage's  next  appearance  in  public. 
As,  however.  Jack  only  could  verify  or  dis- 
prove them,  we  must  still  remain  in  the  dark 
for  some  little  time. 


TACK   A8H0RB.  99 


CHAPTER  III 


Jack  emergoft  firom  obtcnritj  gloriousl? — Hints  for  making 
pageants  and  getting  np  processions— A  barber's  od&^Pride 
and  profundity— The  pomps  and  vanities  of  this  wicked 
world  displayed,  and  something  else. 

For  four  long,  long  daysy  everything  connected 
with  our  dear  Jack  was  mystery,  doubt,  and 
assumption.  He  was  talked  of  everywhere, 
and  seen  nowhere.  He  had  been  put  to  death 
in  various  ways  by  various  descriptions  of  per- 
sons, and  had  slain  himself  in  as  great  a  variety 
of  manners.  This  non-appearance  had  almost 
driven  thirteen  conscientious  Jews  to  suicide, 
and  threw  several  tavern-keepers  into  so  dread- 
ful a  depression  of  spirits,  that  something  fatal 
to  them  was  apprehended. 


60  JACK  ASUOBE. 

On  SaCardaj  night,  the  rumour  that  Sir 
John  had  departed  this  life  gave  place  to  cxie 
quite  aa  distrefifiing — that  he  had  only  departed 
from  Portsmouth ;  for  the  pious  tradesmen  of 
the  place  would  as  soon  have  heard  of  his  death, 
as  that  any  rival  town  should  enjoy  the  expendi- 
ture that  it  was  thought  probable  that  he  would 
make.  In  this  wish  we  include  only  that  low 
class,  much  too  numerous  in  sea-ports,  that 
prey  upon  the  unwary  and  the  ignorant  of 
both  her  majesty^'s  and  the  mercantile  navy. 

On  Sunday  morning  there  was  a  briskness, 
a  vivacity,  and  a  look  of  great  intelligence 
upon  the  countenances  of  a  vast  number  of 
seamen  and  their  respectable  handmaids.  In 
several  places  on  the  fortifications,  and  in  the 
less  genteel  parts  of  the  various  townships  that 
surround  the  harbour  of  Portsmouth,  there 
were  small  bills  posted,  inviting  all  true  British 
tars  to  witness  a  British  tar^s  wedding,  inti- 
mating that,  on  the  return  from  church,  there 
would  be  a  scramble  for  shillings  and  half- 
crowus,  in  honour  of  the  occasion*  The  time 
was  fixed  for  Monday  morning  next,  and  the 


JACK  ASHDIUI.  61 

iiQe  of  the  pcooesooD  indioited.  As  the  Old 
Glories  were  called  upon,  by  name,  to  attend  in 
aa  great  a  number  as  tbey  oould,  no  doubt  re- 
maiaed  that  the  nuptials  were  to  be  those  of 
Sir  Jchtk  Truepenny,  though  there  was  much 
conjecture  as  to  who  was  to  be  the  brida 

This  announcement  threw  three  distinct  par- 
ties into  the  miserables.  Sir  Edward  and  Mr. 
Singlebeart  were  excessively  annoyed,  and  Mr. 
Scrivener  and  the  fair  Eugenia  outrageously 
angry.  But  what  was  the  annoyance  of  the 
one  party,  and  the  anger  of  the  other,  compared 
to  the  rage  of  Mrs*  Snowdrop  ?  It  was  frantic 
— it  was  maniacal.  In  the  first  place,  she  had 
gone  to  great  expense  in  preparing  the  aquatic 
welcome  for  her  future  8on*in-law,  as  she  vainly 
imagined  he  would  be ;  in  the  next,  she  had 
made  herself  liable  for  the  repayment  of  one 
bundi'ed  and  thirty  pounds  that  Mr«  Scrivener 
had  advanced  to  Jack ;  and  lastly,  and  most 
heavily,  she  had  been  saddled  with  all  the  ex* 
penses  incurred  at  the  Blue  Posts.  The  saddle 
had  certainly  been  clapped  on  the  right  back, 
but  that  back  was  sore  with  the  blows  and 


62  JACK   ASHORE. 

tumbles  she  had  received  in  an  enoounter  with 
the  detested  Poll,  and  her  heart  was  still 
sorer. 

We  make  scarcely  any  mention  of  poor  Susan 
Snowdrop.  She  pined  and  wept  alone.  She 
seemed  to  live  in  a  world  hung  with  black.  She 
had  bidden  adieu  to  everything  pleasing.  Hope 
had  died  within  her,  and  she  had  vainly  wished 
to  have  died  with  it.  Now  everything  wearied 
the  poor  creature.  Even  her  novels  were  dis- 
tasteful to  her.  She  hid  herself  from  the  sight 
of  her  mother,  and  she  was  only  less  miserable 
when  she  felt  herself  secure  from  intrusion,  and 
that  her  solitude  was  complete. 

The  whole  of  Sunday,  the  three  parties  whom 
we  have  mentioned  were  vainly  indefatigable 
in  their  search  for  Sir  John  Truepenny.  They 
were^  therefore,  content  per  force,  (that  being 
forced  to  be  content,  we  use  upon  good  autho- 
rity,) until  the  all-important  Monday. 

The  day  broke  beautifully,  and  the  streets 
were  all  bustle  very  early  in  the  morning.  The 
roadsteads  and  the  harbour  poured  forth  their 
myriads  of  blue  jackets,  among  which  a  large 


JACK  A8HO&S.  68 

body  of  the  Old  Glories  were  conspicuous  by 
the  white  ribbons  in  their  jackets^  and  the 
laurel  leaves  in  their  bats. 

The  various  officers  of  the  navy  and  the 

army*   all  affecting  to  despise    such  foolery, 

found  themselves,  however,  getting  the  front 

places  through  which  it  was  supposed  that  Sir 

John  would  pass.     Officers  of  the  higher  grades 

crowded  the  windows  of  the  hotels,  and  the 

port<»adniiral's  residence   in  High  Street   dis- 

played  at  its  windows  a  great  show  of  rank, 

bravery,  and  beauty.    Nine  o^clock,  however, 

had  almost  arrived,  and,  as  yet,  there  was  no 

note  of  preparation.    The  gentry  began  to  fear 

a  hoax,  and  to  think  of  breakfast.     This  fear 

was  soon  dissipated. 

As  the  clock  struck  nine,  every  bell  in  every 
church  rang  out  their  stunning  peals.  This 
clamour  continued  unabated  until  ten,  when 
the  gates  of  an  old  and  little  noticed  yard  were 
flung  open,  and  from  it  the  glory  of  the  day 
emerged. 

But,  before  we  give  the  programme  of  Jack's 
procession,  we  must  detail  a  few  of  the  prepara* 


$4  JACK   A8HORK. 

tions  that  were  made  to  reoeive  him  od  its  route. 
Airs.  Snowdrop  was  not  a  woman  to  remain 
patient  under  injuries,  or  humble  under  insulu 
If  she  oould  not  procure  indemnity,  she  was 
determined  to  have  revenge.  Just  where  the 
principal  street  made  an  elbow  that  turned  it 
towards  the  church,  there  was  another  narrow 
street  terminating  in  the  centre  of  the  convexity. 
After  this  turning,  the  main  street  itself  lost 
its  imposing  name,  and  much  of  its  width.  It 
was  in  this  narrow  street  that  Mrs.  Snowdrop 
had  placed  her  ambuscade. 

She  had  very  many  debtors,  therefore  many 
partisans,  and  the  pitiful  tale  that  she  had  told 
of  Jack's  ill  usage  of  her  daughter  procured 
her  many  assistants.  She  had  also  corrupted  a 
good  miany  of  the  soldiers  in  garrison,  and  had 
at  her  command  all  the  low  bhickguards  that 
loved  mischief  for  the  mischieTs  sake.  The 
pickpockets  were  with  her — ^man  and  boy — 
and  some  few  of  the  ugliest  and  most  drunken 
of  the  fish-fags. 

Mounted  in  a  cart  filled  with  rotten  eggs, 
and  animal  and  vegetable  filth  of  all  descrip- 


JACK    ASHOBK.  65 

tioDS,  she  awaited  with  a  grim  joy  the  bridal 
procession.  Another  cart  laden  with  manure 
was  stationed  immediately  beyond  the  elbow, 
surrounded  by  hundreds  of  vagabonds  well 
versed  in  missile  warfare. 

We  must  now  return  to  the  important  Sir 
John  Truepenny,  who  was  totally  unconscious 
of  the  honours  that  awaited  him.  In  the  first 
place,  with  shouts  and  screams,  and  the  rattling 
of  old  saucepans,  and  with  the  assistance  of 
everything  that  could  make  horrible  discord, 
came  all  the  dirty,  unwashed,  ill-breeched 
blackguards,  not  engaged  by  Mrs.  Snowdrop— 
a  party  purely  honest  in  their  acclamations, 
for  they  were  too  numerous  to  be  bribed. 
They  were  waiters  on  Providence,  and  the 
^  pickers  up  of  unconsidered  trifles,^  determined 
to  labour  in  their  vocations  should  there  be  a 
row,  and  to  make  one  if  there  was  not.  All 
these  were  stentorian  specimens  of  the  vocd 
popuU. 

Next  came  all  the  unhired  players  of  the 
various  instruments  that  rejoiced  the  inhabitants 
of  Portsmouth.    Among  these  were  the  halt, 


66  JACK    ASHOEEt 

the  maimed,  and  the  blind.  They,  too,  devoutly 
hoped  to  pick  up  some  of  the  crumbs  that  fell 
from  the  rich  man^s  table. 

A  party  of  constables,  hired  for  the  occasion, 
with  a  prudence  not  expected  from  Jack,  came 
next.  They  were  honest  and  honourable  men, 
and  scorned  to  hold  sinecures.  They,  there> 
fore,  belaboured  with  their  truncheons  to  the 
right  and  left,  and  all  before  them — the  desuU 
tory  musicians  deriving  the  greatest  benefit 
from  their  civil  zeaL 

A  compact  and  cleanly-dressed  body  of 
marines  came  next.  Their  orderly  and  decorous 
deportment  did  them  high  credit.  They  could 
not  have  been  more  comme  U  fauU  had  they 
been  on  parade.  Perhaps  their  hats,  stuck  upon 
fewer  upright  hairs  than  usual,  were  carried  a 
little  more  on  one  side,  and  their  pigtails  a 
little  more  proudly  and  rigidly  stiff. 

Then  came  the  most  glorious  part  of  the 
show — ^a  band  of  women,  wanting  nothing  to 
make  them  the  .pride  and  glory  of  their  coun- 
try but  modesty.  Being  all  dressed  in  white, 
and  perfectly  sober,  with  ruddy  health  glow- 


JACK   ABHORB*  67 

ing  in  tbeir  cheeks,  their  appearance  was  like  a 
parterre  of  flowers  on  a  May  morning.  They 
wore  no  caps,  and  their  hair  was  simply  braided 
with  red  and  white  roses.  They  walked  four 
abreast,  hand  in  hand,  and  they  gently  swung 
their  arms  to  and  fro^  as  they  chanted  rather 
than  sang  the  following  silly  rhyme,  composed 
by  the  bard  we  have  before  mentioned — the 
barber — who  erected  his  pole  and  lathered  his 
customers  in  Pig's  Court,  Little  White  Hart 
Alley.  The  residence  of  a  poet  so  renowned 
should  be  handed  down  to  posterity. 

No  more  in  the  teeth  of  the  gale, 
No  more  on  the  high  topsail  yard. 
Shall  oar  seaman  lie  out  and  hold  hard 
As  he  hanls  in  the  slack  of  the  sail. 
His  stoimtails  for  Brer  are  stow *d, 

Bo'san*8  pipes  shall  annoy  him  no  more, 
Middle  watches  he  swears  may  be  blow'd. 
Now  bold*bearing  Jack's  come  ashore. 
With  beauty  end  money  galore- 
Jack's  ashore ! 

Jack's  noble  and  true  to  his  Poll, 
Although  he's  a  grand  barrow-night. 
And  she  can  show  lore  and  show  fight 

More  than  any  fantastical  doll. 


68  JACK  A8U0KB. 


Jack  njrs,  "  A  d— -d  ahame  it  would  be. 
To  throw  bjr  the  oomjiaae  aaboie 

That  aerred  bin  ao  well  whan  at  aea"— 
What  can  a  true  neainan  aaj  more  1 
With  hia  bride  and  hia  monej  galore, 

Jack*8  aafaore ! 

Sir  Jc^  will  remember  poor  Jack, 

When  he  aeea  him  paid  off,  worn  and  M. 
He's  a  apooney  who  need  to  be  tM, 
Sir  John'a  noble  heart  will  go  back 
To  the  time  when  he  watch'd  on  the  meat, 

Amidat  the  wild  harricane*a  roar. 
And  Sir  John,  for  the  aake  of  the  paat. 
Will  welcome  the  sailor  the  more. 
And  ahaie  with  him  money  galore. 

Jack'a  ashore ! 

Sir  John,  when  the  king  you  get  near. 
As  he  aeiaea  your  honeat  hard  hand. 
And  wiahea  yon  pleaanre  on  land, 
Juat  whiaper  a  word  in  hia  ear, 
'Bout  atopping  of  grog  and  the  cat. 

And  leare  now  and  then  for  the  shore— 
How  loyal  his  tara  are — ^mind  that— 
Do  this,  God  will  bless  yon  the  more, 
With  your  bride  and  your  money  galore. 

Jack*«aahore 


JACK   A8HOKE.  69 

When  these  syrens  had  chanted  this  rubbish 
all  through,  which  they  did  so  that  erery  word 
of  it  was  distinctly  heard,  they  began  it  again, 
merely  for  the  sake  of  playing  a  more  im- 
portant part  in  the  scene 

After  them  followed  the  hired  musicians, 
who  played  only  a  bar  or  two  of  music  between 
each  stave.  We  can  say  but  little  in  praise  of 
the  uniformity  of  the  band — their  habiliments 
being  as  various  as  their  instruments,  and  their 
persons,  instruments,  and  habiliments  being  all 
the  worse  for  wear. 

Next  followed  a  posse  of  watermen,  in  the 
centre  of  whom,  borne  upon  the  shoulders  of 
twenty  men,  was  a  new  wherry — ^light  yet 
strong — which  Sir  John  had  purchased  to  be 
rowed  for  on  the  following  day.  Others  of  the 
watermen  carried  the  oars  and  sails. 

Then  appeared  a  vast  crowd  of  seamen,  each 
with  a  girl  on  his  arm — and  all  with  white 
favours.  This  division  of  the  procession  marched 
in  most  disorderly  order;  but  as  they  were  all 
merry,  and  but  few  of  them  intoxicated,  they 


70  JACK  ASHOAK. 

contributed  a  little  to  the  brilliancy,  and  much 
to  the  hilarity  of  the  scene. 

Next  in  order  was  a  well«executed  effigy  of 
a  Jew,  seated  on  an  old  chair.  Two  droll 
fellows,  in  the  garb  of  seamen,  accompanied 
this  stuffed  and  painted  figure,  which  was  car- 
ried on  poles  by  four  stout  fellows.  The  two 
supposed  seamen  played  all  manner  of  pranks 
with  the  figure — tweaking  its  nose,  pulling  its 
beard,  making  sham  bargains  with  it,  and 
giving  it  all  manner  of  vulgar  abuse.  This  ex- 
hibition being  quite  level  to  the  ideas  of  the  ma^ 
jority  of  the  spectators,  afforded  infinite  amuse- 
ment, and  drew  forth  vociferous  applause. 

This  was  succeeded  by  a  man  bearing  three 
golden  balls,  and  immediately  after  him  a  figure 
made  to  represent  a  pawnbroker,  mounted  and 
carried  in  a  manner  similar  to  the  Jew.  Two 
brazen-faced  hussies  waited  upon  mine  honoured 
uncle — and  he  did  not  fare  better  with  them 
than  did  the  Jew  with  the  sailors.  They  re- 
proached him  with  having  taken  his  own  wife 
in  pledge  for  five  shillings,  which  he  had  lent 


JACK   A8HOKE.  71 

on  her  to  a  jolly  sailor  who  had  made  her  drunk, 
and  that  he  did  not  find  out  the  mistake  until 
she  sobered  herself  by  giving  him  a  sound 
drubbing. 

A  few  itinerant  tumblers  and  mountebanks 
followed,  with  three  hurdygurdies,  two  hand* 
organs,  one  man  with  a  pipe  and  tabor,  a  danc- 
ing bear,  a  dozen  dancing  dogs,  and  a  few 
iDonkeya.  This  portion  of  the  show  was  rather 
a  blot  upon  its  brilliancy,  as  they  were  very 
clamorous  for  copper  from  the  welUfiUed  win- 
dows of  each  side  of  the  streets. 

Several  respectable  tradesmen,  with  white 
favours,  now  walked  arm-in-arm.  There  was 
nothing  particular  about  them,  but  a  quiet 
decorum  of  conduct,  in  strong  contrast  with 
the  wildness  of  the  other  portions  of  the  pro- 
cession. 

Then  came  the  more  interesting  part  of  the 
whole.  It  was  a  large  number  of  the  Old 
Glories,  all  dressed  alike,  with  glazed  hats 
with  the  word  **  Glory"  emblazoned  in  gold  on 
the  front;  spotless  blue  Jacks,  a  white  bow 
in  each,  silk  neckerchiefs  tied  with  the  sailor's 


73  JACK   A8HO&B. 

knotf  a  mow-white  banyan  beneath  their  jackets, 
and  a  glorious  nosegay  stuck  in  their  bosoms, 
and  white  jean  trousers,  finished  by  white 
stockings^  and  very  neat  little  shoes.  Not 
knowing  very  well  what  to  do  with  their  hands^ 
there  being  no  enemy  in  sight,  they  each  of  them 
carried  a  very  formidable  stick,  and  thus  they 
formed  a  body-guard  to  the  immortal  Jack. 

Now  Jack  had  hired  a  light  and  large  spring 
wagon,  such  as  is  usually  employed  for  the 
removal  of  furniture.  This,  by  the  aid  of 
canvass  and  paint,  he  had  transformed  into  an 
admirable  likeness  of  the  hull  of  a  smart  frigate. 
On  the  deck  of  this  representation  of  a  man-of- 
war  was  placed  an  elevated  platform,  on  which 
sat,  on  two  high*backed  antique  chairs,  Sir 
John  and  Miss  Mary  Macannister.  There 
was  a  table  before  them  covered  with  green 
baize,  on  which  stood  two  decanters  of  port 
wine,  and  between  them  a  large  pile  of  silver 
coins.  There  were  glasses  alsa  Over  the 
heads  of  both  waved  out  the  ancestral  ban- 
ner of  his  house,  containing  the  emblazonry 
of  the  extinct  peerage  which  was  to  be  revived 


JACK   A8H0BB.  79 

]Q  his  person.  It  streamed  forth  gaily  and 
broadly  in  the  summer  breeze,  and  was  hung 
on  a  lofty  staff,  the  most  remarkable  feature  of 
the  pageant.  A  smaller  banner,  with  a  similar 
emblem,  floated  at  the  bow  of  the  frigate,  whilst 
the  union-jack  honoured  the  stem. 

On  the  deck  of  the  simulated  vessel,  which 
was  a  good  deal  below  the  platform  on  which 
the  bride  and  bridegroom  were  seated,  stood 
the  bridesmaids  and  bridesmen,  consisting  of 
six  jolly  tars,  and  as  many  questionable  ladies — 
questionable  in  all  but  their  beauty — which  was 
unquestionable.  Together  they  made  a  most 
attractive  group,  and  the  only  drawback  to  it 
was  the  eternal  glasses  of  wine  that  they  could 
not  dispense  with. 

This  car  was  drawn  by  four  beautiful  bays, 
profusely  decorated  with  white  bows.  On  a 
small  cushion,  in  the  front  of  the  deck,  were 
placed  Jack's  old  tarry  trousers,  his  dirtiest 
working  jacket^  his  marling-spike  and  serving 
mallet,  and  the  whole  was  surmounted  by  two 
crossed  tobacco-pipes.    This  regalia  drew  much 

VOL.  II.  £ 


74  JACK    ASHORE. 

observation,    and  obtained    much  comxnendft* 
tion. 

Jack  was  dressed  simply,  but  neatly,  as  a 
foremast-man  of  the  **  Old  Glory,"  wearing  the 
ship's  hat.  He  was  elaborately  dean,  but 
looked  flushed  and  excited,  and,  in  turns,  too 
bashful  and  too  impudent.  He  bore  in  his 
left  hand  a  tumbler  containing  red  wine,  which 
he  placed  now  and  then  to  his  lips,  merely 
sipping,  and  evidently  wishing  only  to  take  re* 
fuge  from  his  mauvaise  honte  in  some  empldy- 
ment 

And  his  Poll — she  was  glorious  as  Apollo^ 
and  with  the  slight,  the  disagreedde  drawback 
of  two  greenish-tinted  black  eyes,  almost  as 
beautiful.  Her  look  was  more  than  assured-^ 
it  was  magnificent  in  its  impudence.  It  was 
not  the  stem,  solemn,  grave  pride  of  some  aris- 
tocratical  ass— hers  was  the  merry  triumph  of 
animal  spirits,  good  fortune,  recklessness,  and 
consciousness  of  great  personal  charms.  She 
had  a  kindly  glance  of  the  eye,  a  wink,  and  a 
smile,  for  every  one.     When  the  mob  dapped 


JACK   ASHORE.  75 

their  bands  as  she  passed,  slie  did  not  con- 
descend to  bow  her  thanks,  but  clapped  too  in 
very  blithesomeness  of  heart 

Her  dress  — we  have  but  little   to  remark 
upon  that,  as  it  was  the  bridal  uniform,  and 
the  material    was   costly.     The  corsage  was 
very  low,  and  the  sleeves  so  looped  up  at  the 
shoulders,  that  tliey  displayed  a  very  large  por- 
tion of  a  well*rounded  arm.     Her  waist  was 
encircled  by  a  white  broad  ribbon  tied  behind, 
in  boardingHMhool  fashion,  with  long  flowing 
ends.     Those  were  days  of  short  dresses,  and 
PolPs  robes  were  curtailed  to  the  very  verge  of  the 
fashion,  and  a  little  beyond.     But  the  spectator 
was  well  indemnified  for  the  paucity  of  the 
drapery  by  the  plumpness  of  the  leg,  and  the 
shape  of  the  elegantly-turned  ankle.    Her  Hilk 
stockings  blushed,  at  their  own  exposure^  a  red 
deeper  than  ever  silk  stocking  blushed  before. 
And  this  was  the  healthy,  jovial,  and  attractive 
Poll 

Many  were  the  stoppages,  and  loud  the 
huzzas,  and  cries  of  **  Change  for  a  penny  ! " 
No  procession  was  ever  more  enjoyed  by  the 

E  2 


76  JACK   ASUOAB* 

mass.  Some  of  the  superior  naval  and  military 
officers  smiled  contemptuously ;  but  it  was  re- 
marked, that  those  who  wore  mockery  in  their 
faces,  passed  for  neither  the  best  nor  the  bravest 
of  their  class.  It  is  a  grand)  and  ought  to  be 
a  touching  spectacle — that  of  the  hilarity  of  the 
over-worked  many.  The  pageant  before  them 
wasy  if  you  please,  foolish ;  but  it  was  neither 
won  by  blood,  nor  wrung  from  an  oppressively* 
taxed  community.  It  spoke  neither  of  feudal 
tyranny,  nor  of  civic  exaction  and  monopoly. 
It  bore  no  emblems  of  servitude,  and  riveted 
no  chains  of  slavery.  It  was  an  ovation  to  the 
happiness  of  humble  humanity.  All  glory  be 
to  Jack's  bridal  procession ! 

Among  those  who  constituted  this  raree-show, 
many  were  sublimated  exceedingly,  but  none 
more  so  than  Old  Giles  Grimm,  who  having, 
through  the  means  of  Sir  Edward,  procured 
his  discharge,  now  acted  as  steersman  to  the 
mimic  ship,  a  wheel  having  been  erected  near 
its  stern  for  the  express  purpose*  With  won^ 
derful  gravity  did  the  veteran  turn  the  spokes 
of  that  wheel,  whilst  his  self-satisfactory  opera- 


JACX   ASHORE.  77 

dons  bad  do  more  to  do  with  the  course  and 
prog^ress  of  the  car,  than  has  the  sovereign  of 
these  mighty  states  with  the  measures  by 
which  they  are  too  often  deteriorated.  *^  Very 
well  dice^— -dice — ^luff  you  may !  no  near,  boy  ! 
no  near !  ^  with  other  expressions  of  the  ti- 
moneer,  were  continually  on  his  lips.  Exquisite 
halluciDation  this  of  Old  Grimm's,  but  not  uncom- 
mon ;  for  how  many  solemn  heads  of  families, 
who  fancy  that  they  rule  and  direct  all,  are 
exactly  in  the  old  sailor^s  predicament ! 

Our  hero  was  sadly  wanting  in  the  look 
heroicaL  He  could  not  brazen  it  out,  and  he 
would  not  betray  any  appearance  of  shame ;  so 
he  looked  dogged  and  sullen,  and  when  any 
fool,  glittering  in  gold  lace,  sneered,  he  looked 
absolutely  fierce.  Jack  should  have  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  constantly  upon  those  below  him, 
and  he  would  have  met  only  radiant  and  happy 
faces ;  but  he  could  not  help  looking  at  the  first- 
floor  windows,  being  exactly  on  a  level  with 
them,  and  it  was  from  thence  that  the  *  pishing' 
and  *  pshawing^  alone  proceeded. 

*  '*  Dice,'*tbe  usual  way  of  saying  "  thas." 


78  JACX   A8HOES* 

When  they  had  got  nearly  opposite  the 
admiral's  house,  a  stoppage,  not  certainly  in- 
tentional on  the  part  of  Jack,  took  place,  and 
the  ode  in  his  honour  was  chanted  with  singular 
emphasis.  It  did  not  please.  Some  distin- 
guished officers  cried  <<  Fool  !"*  ^*  For  shame  I" 
'^  Go  home !"  <<  Get  to  a  madhouse !"  with  other 
bridal  compliments.  At  this  Jack  stood  up, 
and  folding  his  arms,  returned  their  sarcasms 
with  a  stare  of  defiance.  The  mob  cheered 
him  enthusiastically,  and  would  soon  have  vin- 
dicated their  insulted  hero  with  a  shower  of 
stones.  Happily,  the  stoppage  was  removed, 
and  the  mass  moved  on,  Jack  still  standing  in 
an  attitude  of  stern  defiance.  A  little  farther 
on,  and  he  came  opporite  to  Captain  Firebrass : 
here  the  habit  of  discipline  was  so  strong  upon 
Sir  John,  that  forgetting  his  wounded  dignity,  he 
touched  his  hat  to  his  old  commander.  The 
captain  returned  the  salute  with  a  hearty  cheer, 
and  the  mob  immediately  gave  **01d  Glory** 
three  tremendous  rounds  of  applause.  Jack 
recovered  his  equanimity,  and  again  seated  him- 
self. 


^ACK   ASHORE.  79 

As  they  passed  the  tMiIcony  in  which  were 
Mr.  Scrivener  and  Eugenia  Elfrida,  the  former 
glared  upon  Jack  like  a  ravenous  beast  from 
which  his  prey  had  escaped ;   and  the  young 
lady,  with  more  malice  than  could  be  expected 
in  a  countenance  that  was  formed  for  mild  and 
sweet  expression,  merely  ejaculated,  ^^  Nasty, 
brazen-faced  hussy  !" — words  that,  most  happily 
for  the  sake  of  order,    were  not  heard  by  the 
lady  whom  they  were  meant  so  politely  to  de- 
signate. 

The  happy  pair  had  still  to  pass  Sir  Edward 
and  Mr.  Singleheart.  Directly  Jack  perceived 
them,  he  stood  up,  took  off  his  hat,  and  made 
them  respectful  obeisance.  Sir  Edward  shook 
his  head  sorrowfully,  yet  with  the  kindest  look  ; 
whilst  the  lawyer  doubled  his  fist  at  his  contu- 
macious client,  but  the  rigour  and  eflScacy  of 
the  threat  were  entire  defeated  by  the  laugh 
which  accompanied  it  The  procession  passed 
on->^-r-^to  its  destruction. 


AO  JACK   ASaOBE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Replete  with  grand  eTenU — A  battle  right  royal,  and  rigbf 
royally  fought^ Ve!  victia  I  "  Vain  pomp  and  glory  of  the 
world,  I  hate  ye!** — A  marriage  ceremony  nnceremonionaly 
performed — The  marriage  feast,  and  other  important  mat- 
ters. 

O  for  a  simile !  A  simile !  a  simile  f  my 
kingdom  for  a  simile !  Alas !  are  not  all  the 
best  of  these  poetical  amplifications  pre-occupied 
— and  the  bad  among  them  made  intolerable  by 
the  still  worse  way  that  they  have  been  used  P 
It  is  a  battle  simile  of  which  I  am  in  need — 
and  where  shall  I  find  a  new  one  ?  All  the 
animal  world  has  been  exhausted,  from  a  herd 
of  lions  to  a  flight  of  locusts.  The  rushing 
winds ;  the  stormy  and  the  storming  seas ;  the 


JACK    ASHOHE.  SI 

overwhelming  avalanche ;  the  irresistible  thun- 
derbolt ;  the  volcano  with  its  molten  rivers  of 
metal;  the  city  ^absorbing  earthquake;  these  have 
all  been  employed,  sometimes  well,  very  often 
indifferently,  and  innumerable  times  execrably, 
to  illustrate  the  clash  and  commixing  of  human 
battle. 

There  is  nothing  left  me  but  the  steam-en- 
gine* Shall  I  burst  a  boiler  ?  No,  not  now. 
I  cannot  spare  that  grand  simile  for  a  novel  in 
three  volumes,  when  I  shall  want  it,  under  a 
dozen  shapes,  for  my  epic  in  two  dozen  books. 
At  present,  therefore,  we  will  aspire  only  to 
the  narrative. 

Now,  already  had  the  van  of  the  procession 
passed  by  the  treacherous  ambuscade,  when  it 
was  met  and  stopped  by  the  wagon-load  of 
manure  which  was  overturned  exactly  across 
the  street.  This  a£Bicting  impediment,  which 
was,  at  first,  looked  upon  as  accidental^  packed 
the  ranks  into  a  dense  crowd,  as  those  before 
were  pressed  upon  by  those  advancing  from  the 
the  rear.  At  length  a  halt  took  place  along 
the  whole  line,  and  this  brought  the  bridal  car 

£  5 


82  JACK   A8U0KE. 

opposite  Mrs.  Snowdrop's  cart,  in  the  elbow  of  j 

the   main    street      Impeded,   nay  absolutely  { 

obstructed  in  front,  and  taken  in  flank,  to  use 
a  military  phrase,  Jack  found  himself  in  a  false 
position.  He  soon  found  himself  in  something 
worse. 

^*  O  you  strumpet — you  painted  nastinesa*-* 
how  dare  you,  drab !  how  dare  you  ! — take  that, 
and  that,  and  that— go  it,  my  boys— -now^s  the 
time  I  Don't  spare  that  noodle  of  a  cully — 
bridal  cake  for  yer  both  !'* 

This  was  the  Amazonian  speech  of  the  more 
than  Amazonian  bumboat  woman.  It  was  the 
signal  for  an  attack — and  such  an  attack  !  Eggs 
of  the  most  foetid  corruption,  and  filth  of  the 
most  disgusting  odour,  covered,  with  the  rapidity 
of  a  miracle,  the  bride,  bridegroom,  and  all  the 
bridal  attendants  in  the  can  Both  Jack  and 
Poll  had  more  evil  tastes  in  their  mouths  than 
ever  yet  afflicted,  at  one  time,  poor  humanity. 
They  were  also,  for  some  minutes,,  blinded. 
Many  have  suffered  from  a  masked  battery, 
but  this  battery  had  the  singular  faculty  of 
clapping  its  mask  of  nastiness  upon  the  counter 
nances  of  its  victims.    • 


JACK   ASHORE.  83 

It  was  too  much.  The  lion-hearted  Jack, 
for  a  short  space^  bent  before  it.  The  ancestral 
banner  of  his  house  went  down,  and  the  loud 
shouts  of  bis  presumed  victorious  assailants 
proclaimed  their  triumph. 

Now  for  the  battle-cry— -"Verum  dammee 
raro  ruai !  Change  for  a  penny  I" 

^'  Grimm  Giles,  to  the  rescue  1 "  and  he  came 
all  grimly.  He  too  had  suffered— «he  was  egg^ 
encased,  and  his  aged  eyes  bunged  up  with 
mud  of  a  very  dubious  character.  But  a  well- 
directed  dead  cat  coming  full  upon  his  wea^ 
ther*beaten  countenance,  it  cleared  his  visuals, 
and  be  opened  his  eyes  and  beheld — what 
horrors !  what  shame  I  what  a  tarnish  to  true 
glory! 

There  was  the  beauteous  queen  of  the  revels 
down,  prostrate  upon  the  deck;  Jack  himself 
was  seen  with  his  back  to  the  shower  of  abomina>- 
ble  missiles,  and  stooping  low  his  head,  whilst 
shouts  of  mockery  and  laughter  spoke  of  the 
joys  of  the  treacherous  foe. 

Grimm  Giles  strode  forward  and  again  lifted 
the  banner — disregardless  of  a  volley  of  stones. 


84  JACK   ASHOH?U 

filth,  and  the  more  weighty  shots  of  cats  and 
dogs,  living  and  dead.  He  did  more --he 
called  upon  the  **01d  Glories^  to  man  the 
decks,  and  do  their  duty — and  they  did  it. 

Their  difficulties  were  extreme.  Jammed  in 
the  narrow  elbow  of  a  street,  they  could  neither 
debouche  nor  develope  their  strength ;  the  fire 
from  the  overturned  wagon  in  front  became 
most  annoying ;  the  horses  began  to  show  symp* 
toms  of  fright,  and  after  being  unharnessed, 
they  began  trampling  upon  the  crowd ;  and, 
above  all,  they  had  but  little  ammunition. 
When  Jack's  shipmates  got  into  the  car,  they 
faced  Mother  Snowdrop's  battery  with  three 
hearty  cheers,  returned  them  as  much  of  their 
own  ammunition  as  lay  upon  the  decks,  then 
gave  them  the  bottles  and  the  glasses,  and 
finally  the  silver  that  had  been  reserved  for  the 
scramble. 

This  last  expensive  volley  turned  the  tide  of 
success  in  their  favour ;  for  the  hungry  and 
penniless  raggamuffins,  finding  that  they  were 
battered  with  silver  shot,  instead  of  keeping  up 
the  fire,  in  spite  of  all  Mrs.  Snowdrop's  impre- 


JACK  ASHOB£.  80 

cations,  went  heartily  to  loggerheads  with  each 
other  for  the  coin;  and  Grimm  Giles,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  lull,  with  the  Truepenny  banner 
in  one  hand,  and  an  immense  shin-bone  of  a 
dead  ass  with  the  flesh  and  hair  on  in  the  other, 
led  the  attack  upon  the  cart  itself,  in  which 
the  Amazonian  general  and  her  filthy  anrimuni* 
tion  were  stationed,  and  won  it  in  a  moment. 

la  the  mean  time,  the  wagon  in  front  had 
been  taken  by  storm,  and  as  many  of  its  de» 
fenders  as  were  caught  were  beaten  to  the 
endangering  of  their  lives,  and  plunged  in  their 
own  filth.  The  row  was  dreadful,  the  con- 
fusion intense,  and  many  serious  injuries  in- 
flicted* Sensible  people  in  the  crowd  called 
upon  every  one  to  disperse,  and  this  advice  was 
strengthened  by  the  appearance  of  the  guard 
from  the  garrison,  and  all  but  the  very  worst 
characters  made  the  best  of  their  way  from 
what  they  had  expected  to  find  a  scene  of  mirth 
and  fun. 

Jack  did  not  accompany  the  attack  upon  the 
bumboat  woman ;  but  telling  his  shipmates  to 
pocket  the  money  that  was  left,  he  applied  him- 


86  JACK   A8H0BK. 

self  to  assist  Polly  and  the  bridesmaid  out  of 
the  meUe'  Poll  was  seriously  bruised,  as  well 
as  uuiversally  bespattered;  but,  though  her 
form  was  beaten  down  by  the  volley  that  had 
been  showered  upon  her,  her  spirit  was  as 
lofty  as  ever.  She  would  not  listen  a  moment 
to  Jack's  entreaties  to  go  home  and  postpone 
the  ceremony  until  another  day ;  she  would 
not  give  the  dropsical  old  cat  such  a  triumph, 
not  she.  So  they  contrived  to  gain  the  shelter 
of  a  house  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  with  an 
assiduous  application  of  soap  and  water,  and  a 
makeshift  change  of  garments,  the  happy 
pair  were  just  enabled  to  save  the  time,  and 
got  married  in  the  presence  of  only  a  very 
small  and  battered  fragment  of  their  morning's 
pomp. 

After  this  ceremony,  they  were  conveyed  in 
a  circuitous  manner,  in  a  fly,  to  a  small  house 
that  they  heard  was  to  be  let  furnished,  in 
Porchester,  and  thus,  in  comparative  solitude, 
they  spent  their  wedding-day — one  of  the  most 
miserable  upon  record. 

It  would  be  tedious  to  narrate  all  the  occur- 


JACK   A8HDKE. 


87 


rences  and  aoddenU  that  took  place  at  and  on 
the  termination  of  this  general  riot.  It  was  a 
merciful  dispensation  of  Providence  that  no  lives 
were  lost  Many  were  the  pockets  that  were 
emptied,  and  sundry  the  heads  that  were  broken. 
Before  the  crowd  entirely  dispersed,  having  been 
disappointed  of  their  promised  scramble,  they, 
with  prompt  mob  justice,  indemnified  them* 
selves  by  breaking  up  the  car,  and  appro- 
priating to  their  own  use  such  portions  of 
it  as  they  fancied  might  be  serviceable  to 
them* 

But  we  must  now  return  to  the  authoress  of 
all  this  foul  disarray,  the  vindictive  Snowdrop. 
She  showed  but  little  mercy,  and  did  not  expe- 
rience much.  The  conquerors  endangered  her 
life  by  suffocation,  having  rubbed  her  in  the 
abominable  accumulations  of  her  own  cart; 
after  which  she  was  taken  by  the  police  to  jail 
for  assault  and  riot ;  and  as  many  persons  were 
dangerously  hurt,  the  magistrates  would  not 
admit  her  to  baiL  Thus  she  had  small  scope  for 
self-gratulation  on  the  issue  of  her  plans  of 
revenge. 


88  JACK   ASHORE. 

Giles  Grimm  having  collected  most  of  the 
parties  who  had  been  invited  to  the  bridal  feast, 
officiated  as  host,  in  the  room  of  the  absent 
Jack,  and,  taking  all  things  into  consideration, 
they  were  more  jovial  and  happy  than  might 
have  been  expected.  Giles,  however,  had  the 
intelligence  to  see,  and  the  honesty  to  say,  to 
use  his  own  expression,  '*  that  poor  Jack  was 
going  to  hell  like  a  sky-rocket — that  it  was  a 
hard  business,  and  required  a  long  apprentice* 
ship,  say  seven  years,  to  learn  how  to  come  it 
grand,  and  that  he  hoped  some  sensible  man 
would  take  Jack  in  tow  before  he  foundered 
right  out.  For  his  own  part,  though  he  was 
now  snug  for  life,  with  his  wages  in  his  pocket, 
a  pension  coming  in  as  regular  as  the  morning 
watch,  and  Greenwich  Hospital  under  his  lee 
whenever  he  chose  to  bear  up  for  a  snug  port ; 
yet,  seeing  what  a  fool  a  thorough  sailor  made 
of  it  ashore,  he  had  a  great  mind  to  enter  the 
Old  Glory  again — that  is,  if  they'd  take  him. 
Yet  he  would  wait  a  little  longer,  and  see  how 
things  turned  up — he  had  been  a  father  to  Jack 
ever  since  he  was  as  high  as  his  elbow,  and  so 


JACK   ASHOEE.  89 

he  would  be  kind  to  him  a  little  longer — but 
he  must  mind,  in  future^  how  he  behaved  him- 
aelf.''  ! 

The  whole  party  applauded  this  resolution.  i 

He  then  continued  to  this  effect :  **  Messmates,  { 

hes  and   shes— just  take  a  strand  out  of  my  j 

yam — we've  just  stowed  under  hatches  a  jolly  \ 

good  dinner,  and  kept  it  company  with  wine, 
my  boys,  that'll  cost  the  mopusses— what  then  ? 
— the  dinner  was  ordered,  and,  eaten  or  not. 
Jack  would  have  to  tell  down  the  shiners — ^but 

■ 

vast  heaving — Jack's  a  good  'un  ;  but  seeing  as 
how,  if  he  had  more  money  than  queen  Sheba,  he 
could  not  stand  the  firing  that's  been  going  on 
all  day  at  his  expense^  so  we'll  just  have  in 
the  bill  now,  and  count  all  the  marines — so 
they  sha'n't  pitch  it  into  him  for  wine  we've  not 
had.  But  think  ye  I'm  going  to  break  up  the 
yarmony  ? — no,  no — but  we'll  drink,  for  the  rest 
of  the  day,  grog,  like  seamen  and  seamen's 
gurls  as  we  be — and  I'll  stand  treat — so,  here, 
landlord,  heave  in  sight,  wull  ye — and  pass  your 
accounts/' 
Mine  host,  much  to  his  annoyance,  was  com* 


90  JA.CK   A8H0R£. 

pelled  to  produce  his  bill,  which  Giles  Grimm 
checked  with  all  imagiaablegravityt  and  having 
got  the  necessary  corrections  and  deductions 
made,  he  stowed  it  away  saCcJy  in  bis  tobacco- 
box.  ^*  Now,  landlord,  we  must  vear  and  haul 
upon  my  cable^  so  lef  s  us  have  a  gallon  of  raal 
jamaky  and  lots  of  spring  water  J* 

This  arrangement  was,  in  truth,  more  agree- 
able to  the  company  than  if  they  had  been 
drinking  the  expensive  wines  for  which  they 
had  no  relish ;  so,  after  a  little  fastidiousness, 
for  the  sake  of  good  breeding,  on  the  part  of  the 
ladies,  they  all  recommenced  their  enjoyment 
with  a  double  zest  Several  sea  song^  were 
sung,  and  much  fun  ensued.  Afterwards  they 
danced,  and  ultimately  they  paired  off,  quite  con- 
tent with  the  day  and  its  various  amusements. 
Even  Giles  Grimm  grew  tolerably  composed, 
and  when  he  had  seen  the  last  of  his  guests  (for 
his  guests  they  had  become)  out,  with  a  hearty 
^*^God  bless  you,|shipmate,^  he  smoked  three 
pipes  in  a  state  of  ruminating  bliss,  during 
which  he  made  very  wise  reflections  on  the 
difficulty  of  being  happy  in  a  station  to  which 


JACK   ASHOBB.  91 

one  has  not  been  bred ;  and  this  gave  him  so 
many  absurd  ideas,  that  he  first  began  chuck- 
ling,  and  at  length  fell  asleep;  and  a  little  after- 
wards burst  out  into  a  regular  guffaw  of  a 
laugh,  as  he  dreamed  of  the  various  adventures 
of  a  fish  out  of  water  with  Jack's  head  on, 
trying  to  ride  a  hunting  with  his  majesty's 
hounds,  in  full  chase  of  a  stag. 

But  where  was  Jack  ?  Ashore — ^and  as  mi* 
serable  as  if  he  had  been  married  a  whole 
year. 


92  JACK    A8U0HK* 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  bamboat  woman  and  the  lawyer — Jack's  weddiog-day^- 
finds  himself  not  without  comforters  on  the  pitiful  eyent-> 
The  gentle  bride's  gentle  anticipations^A  long  lecture  on 
dignity  of  conduct  and  refinement  of  deportment}  with  much 
other  useful  sermonising. 

Is  there  any  one  who  can  pity  a  vindictive, 
vulgar  woman,  who  has  fallen  in  the  snare  of 
her  own  evil  imaginings  ?  In  all  Mrs.  Snow- 
drop's schemes  upon  Sir  John  she  had  been 
solely  actuated  by  very  base  motives,  among 
which  avarice  stood  predominant.  Foiled  and 
defeated,  shame,  as  yet,  had  never  visited  her. 
The  rage,  the  fury  of  revenge  had  mastered,  in 
her  breast,  every  other  feeling.  As  she  lay 
tossing  on  the  floor  in  the  room  in  which  she 


JACK  A8HOBE*  98 

had  been  accommodated  in  the  prisons  for  she 
had  broken  the  single  chair  in  her  indiscrimi- 
nating  passion,  the  contemplation  of  murdering 
Jack  and  his  bride  gave  her  the  only  relief  of 
which  she  was  capable. 

She  planned  their  deaths  by  a  hundred  vile 
and  secret  ways.  She  even  went  so  far  in  as- 
sassination as  to  devise  actual  means,  and  to 
look  out  for  instruments.  She  speculated  on 
the  probabilities  of  success  and  of  detection — 
she  imagined  herself  to  have  succeeded — and 
she  was  glad  in  the  thought,  until  the  idea 
struck  her  that  she  should  not  be  gratified 
unless  her  victims  were  previously  aware, 
before  they  died,  that  to  her  they  would  owe 
their  deaths. 

She  at  length  became  quiet  and  sullen,  and, 
seated  on  the  floor,  she  remained  in  a  state  of 
savage  apathy  ;  for  there  is  an  apathy  that  is  not 
so  apathetic  but  that  it  will  brood  over  dreadful 
thoughts.  While  she  was  in  this  state  of  mind, 
Mr.  Scrivener  walked  into  the  room,  and  the  key 
was  turned  upon  him.  He  shuddered  as  he 
beheld  the  spectacle  before  him,  and  looked 


94  JACK   ASHOAE. 

aoxiously  at  the  door.  Ashamed  of  his  mo- 
mentary alarm,  he  put  on  his  habitual  business 
smile,  and  thus  addressed  the  woman,  who  did 
not  even  notice  him  by  a  look. 

**  Mrs.  Snowdrop — my  dear  Mrs.  Snowdrop 
— ^my  good  Mrs.  Snowdrop — ^really ,  really  now — 
do  not  take  on  so— I  oome  to  you  as  your  friend 
— I  am  your  friend — I  wish  to  see  justice 
done  to  you— do  you  not  know  me,  Mrs.  Snow- 
drop T 

**  Yes,  lawyer ;  you  hold  my  acceptance  for 
a  hundred  and  thirty  pounds." 

"  A  mere  trifle,  my  dear  madam — ^nothing — 
it  is  really  nothing  to  a  lady  of  your  known 
property — I  wish  I  held  it  for  three  thousand 
and  thirty  —  ha,  ha,  ha,  good  Mrs.  Snowdrop  ! 
— a  hundred  and  thirty  —  pooh  !  to  mention 
a  trifle." 

*'  Don't  laugh— don't  sneer !  d — n  you — 
I  wont  put  up  with  it  A  trifle— yes— a  trifle 
to  the  bloodsucker  who  gains  it  by  writing  a 
few  lines  on  a  bit  of  parchment — who  gains  it 
by  usury  and  extortion — ^by^aking  away  their 
all  from  those  that  have  little; — ^but  for  me,  who 


JACK   ASHOaE.  95 

have  slaved  for  every  shilling  of  this  money-- 
who  have  been  tossed  in  the  open  boat  in  sleet 
and  snow  and  storm — have  been  cheated,  re- 
viledy  insulted  by  the  meanest— O  you  shark 
among  the  unwary  ! — out  of  my  sight — you 
are  a  curse  to  the  eyes  of  a  poor  lone  woman, 
already  too  much  curaed.^ 

^<  Good  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  I  feel  for  you — upon 
the  honour  of  a  gentleman  I  do.  I  come  to 
assist  you  as  your  friend ;  to  advise  with  you 
as  one  labouring  for  your  good.^ 

*^  Nice  words;  but  I  think,  lawyer,  that 
both  your  friendriiip  and  your  hate  end  all  in 
plucking  away  the  money  from  the  poor  wretch 
that  gets  within  your  clutches.  How  much  are 
you  going  to  charge  for  this  kind  visit  ? — But  I 
won*t  pay  you — I  did  not  send  for  you — so 
you  may  haul  your  wind  and  be  off,  and  the 
curse  of  the  last  man  that  you  ruined  go  with 
you !" 

*^Dear  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  why  this  unneces- 
sary violence  P  Regard  me  as  a  rascal  if  you 
will " 


96  JACK  A8HOEB. 

**  I  do— make  yourself  perfectly  sure  of  that, 
lawyer.*' 

"You  cannot  be  sure  of  it — I  am  not  certain 
of  it  myself.  I  have  very  warm  feelings  to- 
wards those  whom  I  love.^^ 

"  The  Lord  in  his  mercy  help  them  !" 

"So  he  does,  madam.  They  prosper — all 
have  prospered  who  have  ever  been  connected 
with  me.'* 

"  Your  clients  ?" 

« And  they  too.  Why  not  ?  But  I  don't 
wish  you  to  trust  to  my  probity  or  my  natural 
benevolence.  We  have  just  now  the  same 
interest  to  cultivate — the  same  wrongs  to  re- 
venge, and  on  the  same  person.  Sir  John 
Truepenny,  this  upstart,  pitch-de61ed  baronet 
of  my  creating,  I  do  hate  most  cordially,  most 

legally." 

"What  has  the  hog-pated  cully  done  to  de- 
serve such  a  distinction  ?" 

"  Everything  that  could  thwart  my  interests, 
and  wound  my  pride.  But  for  me,  he  would 
have  still  trembled  under  the  fear  of  the  lash. 


JACK   A6H0BE.  97 

and  died,  as  he  had  lived,  an  unknown  and  de- 
spised common  sailor.  Now,  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  have  done  for  him.'' 

He  then  recounted,  in  a  manner  the  most 
flattering  to  himself,  the  trouble  that  he  had 
taken,  and  the  exertions  that  he  had  made,  to 
trace  him  out;  and  he  endeavoured  tomake  it  ap- 
pear the  most  disinterested  and  laudable  action 
that  ever  was  inspired  by  an  innate  love  of 
justice.  "  Now,"  he  concluded,  "  what  is  my 
reward  ?  Thrown  by  with  contempt,  as  a  worn- 
out  tool.  Others  reap  the  fair  recompense  of 
my  labours ;  even  my  expenses  cavilled  at  and 
disputed.  Independently  of  the  great  moral 
wrong  done  to  me,  I  am  nearly  one  hundred 
and  twenty  pounds  out  of  pocket.^' 

Here  Mrs.  Snowdrop  clapped  her  arms 
akimbo,  and  closely  imitating  his  mincing 
voice,  repeated  his  own  words,  *^  A  mere  trifle, 
my  dear  sir.  Nothing — it  is  really  nothing  to 
a  gentleman  of  your  known  property.  Good 
Mr.  Scrivener,  only  one  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds !  Pooh !  to  mention  such  a  trifle !" 
**  And  I  would  not,  as  you  ought  to  have 

VOL.   II.  F 


98  JACir   ASHOBS. 

understood-— it  is  the  base  ingratitude  of  the 
rascal  that  irritates  me.  Now,  unfortunately, 
as  he  is  not  in  my  legal  power,  I  cannot  do 
him  the  justice  that  he  deserves — ^but  he  has 
wronged  you — ^legally  wronged  you.  I  under- 
stand that  proceedings  have  been  taken  against 
you  for  a  debt  which  he  and  his  riotous  crew 
contracted  at  the  Blue  Posts.^ 

And  now  the  bumboat  woman  opened  the 
flood-gates  of  her  eloquence.  It  was  some 
relief  to  abuse  Jack  even  to  a  lawyer.  In 
that  relief  she  indulged  most  unlimitedly. 
For  one  hour  and  a  half  did  he  listen  to  her 
outpourings  patiently — nay,  eagerly.  When 
she  had  finished,  he  rubbed  his  hands  in  a 
paroxysm  of  pleasure,  and  commenced  the  office 
of  consoler. 

^*  Ohi  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  notwithstanding  ap- 
pearances, you  are  a  very  fortunate  woman. 
Now  do  listen — do  be  persuaded.  Pay  this  bill 
of  Mr.  Layton  of  the  Blue  Posts  immediately 
— *pay  it  pitomptly,  and  you  will  have  to  pay  it 
simply.  In  this  state  of  the  proceedings  the 
costs  cannot  be  much,  and  I  fear  that  Mr. 


JACK  ASHORE.  99 

Layitoo's  costs  yoa  cannot  recover  from  Sir 
John ;  for,  as  you  ordered  everything  of  Mr. 
Layton,  you  are  legally  responsible.  Pay  the 
bill,  and  I  will  arrest  this  betrayer  of  inno- 
cence, this  new-fangled  Sir  John,  immediately. 
But  this  is  not  the  grand  stroke,  madam  !  Oh, 
na  Bring  your  action  for  damages  in  your 
daughter's  name  for  breach  of  promise  of  mar- 
riage. Lay  them  at  ten  thousand  pounds — get 
five.     What  a  speech  for  counsel ! " 

As  he  proceeded,  his  auditor  warmed  with  the 
same  malignant  feelings;  and  the  final  result 
was,  that  she  empowered  him  fully  to  act  for 
her,  drew  the  money  from  the  bank  to  satisfy 
the  entertainer  of  the  Blue  Posts,  conjured 
him  to  get  her  admitted  to  bail  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, and  constituted  him  her  attorney  in  every 
sense  of  the  word. 

Mr.  Scrivener  departed,  highly  pleased  with 
the  success  of  his  mission,  and  prepared  imme- 
diatdy  to  commence  double  legal  proceedings 
against  poor  Jack. 

And  poor  Jack  we  have  too  long  neglected — 
and  OD  his  wedding  night  I     Her  ladyship,  the 

F  2 


100  JACK  ASHORE. 

honoured  wife  of  Sir  John  Truepenny,  had 
arrived  at  her  new  and  temporary  abode  in  the 
yery  worst  of  all  possible  humours.  Before  she 
had  alighted  from  the  coach,  she  had  boxed  the 
ears  of  all  those  within  it,  not  excepting  those 
of  her  liege  lord,  for  calling'  her  ^^  Poll,''  as  of 
old.  All  this  was  philosophically  and  quietly 
submitted  to,  on  the  consideration  of  the  pelting 
and  the  ill  usage  to  which  she  had  been  sub- 
jected. 

When  she  entered  the  house,  the  storm,  in- 
stead of  subsiding,  grew  worse,  and  it  was  with 
great  difficulty  that  Jack  could  coax  her  lady- 
ship to  go  to  bed,  and  try  to  get  some  relief, 
whilst  messengers  were  despatched  to  their  late 
quarters  for  a  fresh  supply  of  clothes  for  both, 
and  much  consolatory  finery  for  her  in  par- 
ticular. 

Jack  had  her  accompanied  home  by  two  of 
his  old  shipmates,  and  the  two  bridesmaids. 
The  ladies,  having  got  my  lady  into  bed,  retired 
to  another  apartment  to  repair  damages,  and 
left  the  three  sailors  to  themselves.  Now  Jack 
was  excessively  serious,  and  looked  as  little  like 


JACK  ASHORE.  101 

a  bridegroom  as  it  was  possible  to  conceive. 
So,  with  a  sort  of  desperate  sulleoness,  he 
ordered  a  deal  table  out  into  the  little  garden 
behind  the  houses  pipes,  tobacco,  and  two  gal» 
Ions  of  swipes. 

Brown  and  Jones,  like  two  good  sympa- 
thizing messmates,  determined  to  share  his  me* 
lancholj  and  his  beer ;  so  they  all  sate  them- 
selves down  with  more  than  Turkish  gravity, 
and  soon  reposed  under  a  canopy  of  smoke 
of  their  own  creating.  For  an  hour  no  one 
spoke.  So  strong  was  the  spirit  of  silence  upon 
them,  that  they  lifted  up  the  brown  jugs  to 
their  mouths,  and  replaced  them  on  the  table 
cautiously. 

The  day  was  perfectly  calm,  and  the  smoke 
hung  about  and  enveloped  them^  so  that  they 
resembled  three-  ships  in  close  action,  and  the 
volumerof  vapour  liberally  propelled  from  the 
general  white  obscurity  was  not  unlike  tha^ 
which  issues  from  the  maindeck  guns. 

**  Tom  Brown  I''  said  Jack. 

"  Ay !  ay  !'*  was  the  brief  answer. 

No  other  sound  was  heard  for  another  quarter 
of  an  hour. 


102  JACK    A8HOEB. 

^^  Jim  Jones  P*  said  Jack,  still  more  so* 
lemnly. 

**  Here  !'*  said  Jones,  using  the  exact  tone 
of  voice  with  which  he  answered  to  his  name 
in  the  wateh-bill.  But,  for  all  the  purposes  of 
conversation,  he  might  as  well  not  have  been 
there,  or  have  been  anywhere  else.  Jack  only 
puffed  on  the  more  furiously.  After  another 
lengthened  pause,  Brown  opened  his  jaws  and 
spoke. 

*<  Sir  John  !^  was  discharged  from  one 
comer  of  his  mouth,  accompanied  by  a  volume 
of  smoke  from  the  other. 

<*  Jack,  if  you  please,  Tom — ^but  cut  it  small 
— I'm  a  married  man,  and  every  quiet  moment 
is  wallyble  to  me.** 

"  As  a  pig's  whisper,  Jack,^  answered  Tom, 
in  a  voice  remarkably  subdued.  **  You  hailed 
about  a  glass  ago."* 

((Yes — the  old  bumboat  woman  outman- 
houved — brought  us  up  all  standing.  What  a 
broadside !  took  us  flat  aback— *not  a  gun  ready 
in  our  port-holes — not  a  shot  in  the  locker, — 
and  then  her  consort,  the  dung-craft,  raked  us 


JACK   ASHORE.  103 

fore  and  aft — ^fore  George !  I  gives  her  credit. 
Beat  us  off.  My  colours  were  down— who 
knows  what  became  of  them?  That  galls 
mer 

**  Sir  John  Truepenny—"  commenced  Jones, 

*^  Jack  till  U>*morroW}  and  would  to  God  it 
was  Jack  always  !  ** 

^  As  to  your  colours,  Jack,  they  were  trium- 
phant  arter  alL  Grimm  Giles  boarded  mother 
Snowdrop  with  them  flying  in  his  hand.  I 
can't  but  say  as  how  they  were  a  little  dirty-^ 
what  matters  ?  we  won  the  day.  Grimm  car- 
ried  Mrs.  Snowdrop^s  craft,  and  she  is  now  in 
limbo.'* 

^^  Well,  I'*m  sorry  for  that  last,^  said  Jack. 
*'  I  like  the  old  girl's  spirit  Did  any  one  see 
Susan  in  the  skrimmage?^ 

«  m  answer  for  it,  no,'*  said  Tom.  "  But 
what  would  Poll  say  if  she  heard  you  talking 
about  her  ?" 

"If  Poll  don't  mend  her  manners — "  but 
what  the  consequences  were  to  be  if  she  did 
not,  were  lost  in  clouds  of  vapour.  After  a 
long  pause  Jack  resumed :  *^  Jones,  my  hearty, 


104  JACK   ABHOBE. 

Ill  tell  ye  how  the  land  lies.  When  you  get 
aboard,  up  helm  and  steer  straight  for  the  first 
leeftenant — ^haul  on  board  your  best  jaw-tacks, 
and  give  my  duty  to  him.  You  may  say  Sir 
John  Truepenny's  duty  then,  and  ax  him  to 
keep  my  name  on  the  division  list,  the  watch 
and  quarter  bill,  and  the  number  on  my  mess, 
for  a  short  spell  longer ;  for,  by  all  Pharaoh^s 
frogs,  I  am't  had  a  comfortable  moment  since 
they've  Sir  Johnned  me,  without  as  how  it  be 
at  this  present  sitting.  But  don't  log  it,  that  it's 
sartain ;  but  it's  a  good  thing  to  have  a  pott 
under  one's  lee,  if  so  be  as  how  one  should  get 
sick  of  being  a  barrownite,  .and  a  man  of 
fortin." 

**•  There's  gumption  in  that  ere  notion,*^  said 
Brown. 

Jones  assented  with  a  Solomon  shake  of  the 
head,  and  the  baronet  refilled  his  pipe. 

The  marine  triad  smoked  and  drank  porter 
until  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon — a  very  seda* 
tive  process  to  a  newly  married  man,  and  not 
unwise  in  one  married  as  Jack  was. 

About  this  time  Lady  Truepenny   awoke. 


JACK   ASHORE,  105 

and  seeing  her  two  bridemaids  with  her,  and  a 
profusion  of  finery  ready  for  her  selectioDy  she 
sprang  out  of  bed  in  a  tolerably  happy  humour, 
and,  with  due  assistance,  began  dressing.  But 
this  favourable  appearance  lasted  only  until  she 
saw  another  unfavourable  appearance  that  her 
looking-glass  presented  to  her.  The  blackened 
eyes  of  the  morning  were  still  more  black,  and 
her  face  was  also  scratched  and  contused. 

Lady  Truepenny  fell  into  an  abominable  pas- 
sion, that  no  soothing  words  could  pacify,  no  at- 
tention modify.  She  did  not,  however,  dress  her- 
self the  less  gorgeously,  and  bidding  her  visiters 
keep  their  distance,  she  sailed  down  stairs  mag- 
nificently, and  was  soon  in  the  midst  of  the 
smoke  of  the  three  jolly  sailors,  who  happened 
then  to  be  as  sad  as  undined  sycophants. 

Poll  opened  her  battery.  No  submission 
could  silence  her.  This  was  soon  apparent, 
and  all  efibrt  to  appease  her  was  abandoned. 
They  had  no  other  hopes  for  peace  but  in  the 
effects  of  a  good  dinner,  to  which  they  shortly 
after  sat  down.     As  Poll  she  had  been  a  tole- 

F  5 


106  JACK  ASHORE. 

rably  good  girl,  but  as  Lady  Truepenny  she 
was  detestable,  as  Lady  Truepenny  tipsy, 
abominable*  The  company  bore  it  all  with 
considerable  phlegm,  and  my*ladied  her  with 
great  unction. 

«  My  dear  Poll—"  said  Jack. 

^*  Poll  in  your  teeth,  you  low,  dungbill4>red 
varmint  I  If  anybody  dare  for  to  go  for  to 
come  for  to  try  to  be  so  imperent  as  to  call  me 
Poll  again,  PU  smash  his  nasty  jaws.  If  you 
don't  know  what's  due  to  rank  and  station^  I'll 
taitche  ye,  ye  beggars.     Jack,  ye  devil — Sir 

John  I  mean,  and  be  d d  to  ye — ^good  ex* 

ample  is  thrown  away  on  yer,  ye  hog !  Yer  can 
neither  walk,  or  talk,  like  a  thrue  barrownite 
as  ye  are,  and  a  curse  upon  ye !  Whereas  yer 
dignity  ?  When  ye  spake  you  spit  out  tar,  and 
when  ye  move  ye  roll  about  like  a  tater-hooker 
in  a  squall  off  Einsale  Head — ^ 

**  Lady  Truepenny !" 

^^  Well,  Jack,  Sir  John  Barrennit,  what 
have  yer  got  to  say  to  Lady  Truepenny,  and 
be  hung  to  yer  ?^' 


JACK   A8H0EB.  107 

**  Mer  lady,  will  your  ladyship  be  pleased 
to  be  so  good  as  to  let  us  know  what  your  lady- 
ship^s  honour  would  be  after?" 

^  Why,  Jack  I  Sir  John !  the  devil !  since 
I'm  a  thrue  female  woman  barrennit,  I  means 
to  uphold  the  dignity,  and  any  other  state  and 
dignity  that  I  may  shortly  come  to.  So  I  re- 
quires, fust,  that  you  get  mother  Snowdrop 
hung,  and  her  tallow-faced  darter  put  in  the 
pillory ;  then,  that  I  have  a  coach*and-8ix  to> 
morrow,  and  four  flunkies  in  gold  lace  behind, 
to  go  into  Portsmouth  like  a  female  barrennit ; 
and  after  I  am  druve  about  the  town  and  the 
fortifications,  and  over  the  parade,  well  set  off 
for  Lunnun,  but  we'll  take  out  all  the  money 
from  the  bank  first ; — ^that^s  all  I  want  to  begin 
with,  Jack^-yer— -yer  dcHi't  desarve  such  a 
ladyship  of  spirit.  Sir  John  Barrennit.^ 

*'  Boarding-pikes  and  grapnels  '  Poll^  don't 
hit  so  hard,  or  I'll  wop  you.  My  lady,  but 
you're  muddyrate*    You  must  have — ^ 

"  You — you — I'm  not  to  be  called  you — 
your  ladyship,  if  you  please.  Sir  John/' 

^'  You  be  d— — d,  and  your  ladyship  too  !" 


108  JACK  ASHOBB. 

said  Jack,  growing  seriously  irefuL  **  A 
pretty  notion  you  must  have  of  a  barrownight. 
Do  yer  think  Fm  the  hemp'ror  of  Marroco,  or 
the  great  jam  of  Tartary,  who  washes  their 
fistes  in  melted  silver,  iced  and  perfumed,  and 
wipes  them  arter  in  five-pun  'notes  ?  There^s 
plenty  of  knights,  and  barrownights,  and  lords, 
and  yearls,  and  dukes  too— if  not  all  in  his 
majesty's  fleet,  often  enough  at  the  searports, 
you  huzzy  I  and  which  of  them  d*ye  ever  see 
riding  about  in  coaches  and  six  with  flunkies  in 
gold  lace  ?  As  far  as  I  can  trust  my  ogles, 
they  all  looks  much  like  other  folks,  only  they 
be  often  a  precious  sight  uglier.* 

*^  Ah,  yah !  yer  low  feller  1*^  said  Lady 
Truepenny,  with  infinite  contempt  **  These 
ye  spake  ov  is  mere  say  monsters  I  common  as 
salt'herrings  !  A  riglar  bom  lord  barrennit  is 
worth  casks  of  them.  Get  to  Lunnun,  Jack, 
and  see  the  stuiF  ye  raely  be  ;  vally  yer  dignity 
as  I  does ;  let  nothing  low  come  out  of  yer  mouth 
— may  the  devil  cram  it  with  toadstools  if 
ye  do." 

We  give  this  only  as  a  short  specimen  of 


JACr    ASHORE  109 

Poll's  style  of  speaking  —  which,  when  she 
was  tipsy,  had  the  least  taste  of  Irish  about  it 
in  the  world  —  and  of  her  then  habit  of 
thinking.  In  the  mean  time  there  was  a  rapid 
and  great  change  taking  place  in  Jack^s  whole 
frame  of  mind.  He  knew  that  he  had  been  too 
precipitate,  but  he  still  hoped  to  make  all  right 
yet.  He  did  not  repent,  for  a  moment,  the 
having  kept  his  promise  with  his  girl,  but  he 
began  to  perceive  that  he  must  hereafter  carry 
a  tight  hand  over  her.  But  just  then  he  was 
very  weary,  and  he  desired  nothing  better,  for 
some  hours,  than  perfect  quiet.  He  had  deter- 
mined, the  next  morning,  to  throw  oflP  his 
nautical  weeds,  dress  himself  in  plain  clothes, 
and  place  himself  and  his  lady  entirely  under 
the  direction  of  Sir  Edward  Fortintower  and 
his  lawyer.  Having  begun  so  unsuccessfully, 
he  thought  that  he  had  done  more  than  enough 
to  work  out  the  ideal  of  a  bold,  dare-devil, 
harum-scarum  Jack  tar.  He  began,  also,  to 
think  that  he  had  played  the  fool  very  little  to 
his  own  satisfaction,  or  to  that  of  any  one  else. 
Ruminating  over  these  things,  he  now  endea^ 
voured  only  to  preserve  peace. 


110  JACK   A8HOEE. 

But  the  amiable  PoUy'^s  nature  seemed 
changed.  She  had  such  inordinate  and  such 
vague  ideas  of  her  newly-born  coosequenoe, 
that  that,  and  her  life  of  almost  continual 
drinking  for  the  last  few  days,  had  not  a  little 
unsettled  her  reason.  She  made  every  one  un- 
comfortable—so much  so,  that  at  last,  by  a 
secret  understanding  with  his  friends,  Jack  de> 
termined,  merely  for  the  sake  of  peace,  to  make 
her  dead  drunk.  But  she  was  obstinate  even 
in  this,  and  would  only  drink  just  so  much, 
and  so  slowly,  as  she  pleased. 

Altogether,  it  was  a  most  wretched  evening, 
and  the  sailors  and  their  girls,  notwithstanding 
their  unlimited  privilege  of  the  table,  grew  so 
much  annoyed  by  the  arrogance  and  pride  of 
her  ladyship,  that  they  would  have  gladly  de- 
parted ;  and  it  was  in  pity  only  to  Jack  that 
the}'  still  remained. 

Things  came  to  a  crisis*  The  various  liquors 
at  last  began  to  take  effect,  and  the  gentle 
Polly  grew  outrageous.  She  rose  suddenly 
from  her  place,  and  before  Jack  could  prepare 
himself,  she  flung  herself  upon  him.  and  gave 
him  some  tremendous  blows  about  the  head 


JACK  ▲6H0BS.  Ill 

and  face.  He  then  attempted  to  force  her 
against  the  wall,  and  make  her  harmless  hy 
holding  her  hands.  But  rage  and  dmnkenness 
bad  rendered  her  too  strong.  The  whole  party 
were  then  obliged  to  assist,  and  bandaging  her 
hands  and  feet,  they  carried  her  up  like  a 
mummy  to  bed,  she  screaming  and  cursing  all 
the  while.  To  the  bed  they  were  forced  to 
strap  her,  when  overtaxed  nature  at  length  gave 
way.  Her  oaths  and  revilings  gradually  sub- 
sided into  indistinct  murmurs,  which  were 
subdued  by  sobs,  until  she  cried  herself  into  a 
profound  and  deathlike  sleep. 

Jack  returned  to  his  company,  and  the  two 
women  shortly  after  retiring,  he  and  his  ship- 
mates once  more  retired  to  the  garden,  their 
pipes,  and  their  swipes.  They  smoked  and 
drank  nearly  in  silence  until  the  day  hegan  to 
break.  Jack  going  up  every  hour  to  see  how 
his  bride  fared  in  her  apoplectic  sleep.  His 
shipmates,  being  obliged  to  be  on  board 
early  in  the  morning,  then  left,  with  no 
favourable  ideas  of  the  happiness  of  being  made 
a  baronet. 


112  JACK    ASHORE. 

About  four  oVlock  Jack  threw  himself, 
dressed  as  he  was,  upon  the  sofa  in  his  little 
drawing-room,  and  thus  passed  the  wedding 
day  and  night  of  Jack  Ashore. 


JACK   A8HOEK.  113 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Jack  puts  new  rising  over  bis  mast-head,  and  hoists  new 
coloiirs — DonH  like  it— Meets  with  strange  folks,  and  hears 
some  nnpleasant  truths  of  himself— More  mysteries — Gets 
azresCed  for  debt,  and  senred  with  notice  of  action,  which 
action  he  but  little  notices — The  devil  to  pay  with  Poll,  and 
no  pitch  hot  !—£Fexy  thing  goes  the  wrong  way,  and  no 
pbjsic. 

At  ten  o'clock  Lady  Truepennny  was  still  in  a 
sleep  so  profound  that  her  affectionate  husband, 
the  exemplary  Sir  John,  first  having  cast  off 
the  lashings  with  which  he  had,  with  so  much 
loving  tenderness,  bound  her,  thought  that  he 
ought  to  consult  some  medical  person,  as  to  the 
cause  of  this  impossibility  of  her  being  able  to 
awaken.  But,  considerate  man  that  he  was,  he 
reflected  that  there  was  no  occasion  for  anything 


114  JACK   ASHORE. 

like  indecorous  haste;  so  he  carefully  performed 
bis  ablutions,  and  taking  with  him  his  habits 
as  a  civilian,  he  repaired  to  the  nearest  hidr- 
dresser^s.  He  was  recognised  immediately,  for 
his  fame  outstripped  his  approach  wherever  he 
appeared.  The  man  was  obsequiously  active 
about  him.     *^  What  would  his  honour  want  ?^ 

"  No  great  shakes,  my  shaver.  Just  trans- 
mogrify an  honest  tar  into  a  slap-up  barrow- 
night.  But,  before  you  begin,  my  hearty,  let's 
have  silence  fore  and  aft.*' 

**  By  all  means,  my  lord.  Will  your  lord- 
ship step  into  my  back  parlour  ?  My  honoured 
lord's  plain  clothes,  I  presume^  your  lordship. 
Permit  me,  my  lord.  Hum !  a  nobleman 
never  carries  a  bundle,  my  lord.^ 

•*  More  fool  he  r 

**'  Unquestionably ;  but  so  it  is,  my  lord.'^ 

In  the  little  back  parlour  the  operation  pro- 
ceeded rapidly.  The  barber  protested,  upon 
his  reputation,  and  on  the  honour  of  his  frater- 
nity, that  he  could  not  do  him  justice  unless 
he  permitted  him  to  talk.  Leave  was  graciously 
granted,  and,  at  the  end  of  a  half  hour,  the 


JACK   A8H0RX.  115 

knight  of  the  tonsor  swore  that  he  had  sue* 
cceded. 

*'  Walk  to  the  glass^  your  honour.  Behold 
yourself  every  inch  a  baronet !" 

Jack  did  so,  and  was  utterly  astonished.  He 
did  not  like  it.  He  doubled  his  fist,  and  would 
have  dashed  the  mirror  to  pieces.  He  did  not 
know  himself.  He  was  dressed  in  the  height 
of  the  then  fashion.  Yellow  buckskin  panta- 
loons, with  the  waistband  up  to  the  shoulders; 
a  very  small  embroidered  waistcoat,  about  half 
the  length  of  those  worn  in  these  days  of  refine- 
ment ;  a  Mecklin  lace  cravat ;  an  enormous  frill 
to  his  shirty  with  a  brooch  in  it  nearly  tliesise  of 
a  crown  piece ; — ^thesegave  him  that  Bwaggemg 
air  of  genteel  ruffianism,  at  that  time  so  much 
admired.  His  coat  was  made  of  the  best  blue 
broadcloth,  with  bright  yellow  buttons.  It  was 
fantastically  cut,  with  a  very  small  front  and 
tremendously  long  tails.  He  wore  Hessian 
boots,  systematically  wrinkled  down  over 
his  ankles,  and  his  hat  was  broad-brimmed, 
high-crowned,  and  conical,  though  flattened  at 
the  top.    His  side-locks,  that  were  wont  to  be 


116  JACK    ASHORE. 

the  envy  of  his  shipmates  and  the  pride  of  the 
women,  were^  with  his  thick  clubbed  pigtail, 
remorselessly  sacrificed;  his  beautiful  auburn 
hair  was  frizzled  up  and  made  snow-white  with 
powder ;  whilst  a  heavy  gold  curb-chain,  and  a 
bunch  of  tremendous  seals,  depended  from  his 
fob,  and  gave  the  finishing  touch  to  his  appear- 
ance. In  the  language  of  the  day,  ^*  he  was  a 
very  pretty  fellow, **  but  no  longer  bold  Jack. 
His  feet  came  to  the  ground  as  gingerly  as  those 
of  a  cat  skating  in  walnut-shells;  his  boots 
creaked  abominably  at  every  motion,  and  he 
felt  a  painful  sense  of  sufibcation  from  the  pres- 
sure of  his  expensive  cravat. 

Jack  paced  up  and  down,  grumbling  and 
swearing.  His  free  and  d^bonnaire  action  was 
totally  gone;  he  grew  hot  and  feverish,  and 
the  first  act  of  his  installation  in  the  garb  of  a 
gentleman  was  the  calling  for  a  quart  of  small 
beer.  When  he  had  swigged  it  off  at  a  draught, 
he  looked  about  him  disconsolately,  made  an 
abortive  effort  to  shove  his  two  hands  into  his 
jacket-pockets,  which  were  in  the  other  room ; 
fumbled,  in  the  absence  of  his  mind,  for  the 


JACK    ASHOftX.  117 

tobacco-box  that  he  had  forsworn,  and  then, 
pitching  his  hat  jauntily  on  the  side  of  the 
head,  he  proceeded  towards  his  lodgings,  for 
the  purpose  of  seeing  how  her  ladyship  was 
doing.  He  felt  himself  so  compressed  and 
bound  up,  that  he  walked,  or  rather  limped 
along,  like  a  veritable  petit  maitre. 

He  had  not  gone  far  before  he  met  three 
queer-looking  subjects,  the  one  having  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  broken-down  mechanic,  the  second 
of  a  drunken,  heavy,  Dutch  skipper,  and  the 
other  very  like  a  strolling  player,  suffering 
under  the  three  inflictions  of  hunger,  thirst, 
and  a  scarcity  of  apparel. 

They  all  took  off  their  hats  to  the  pro- 
digiously fine  personage  before  them,  and  each 
made  his  most  respectful  reverence  after  his 
peculiar  fashion.  Here  was  a  fine  opportunity 
for  Jack  to  come  the  baronet  over  them  ;  so  he 
threw  back  his  head,  swung  his  massive  gold 
seals  to  and  fro,  and  stared  at  them  with  sublime 
superiority. 

'*  Please  your  honour,'^  said  he  of  the  scanty 


118  JACK   A8H0ES. 

habiliments,  ^'  can  you  tell  us  where  the  new 
salt  baronet  has  palaced  himself?'' 

^*  Ab,  hey  !  who  d'yer  mean,  my  good  man  ?"  j 

said  Sir  John,  plajring  gracefully  with  his  frill, 
and  giving  it  a  few  encouraging  plucks  for** 
ward. 

The  person  thus  addressed  looked  at  his 
companions  and  nodded,  which  nod  said  very 
plainly,  this  must  be  some  very  great  person. 
*^  I  mean,  may  it  please  your  worship,  a  low 
sailor  fellow,  that  the  big  wigs  have  found  out 
is  a  baronet  and  a  man  of  great  fortune — the 
more's  the  pity,  says  I — 'tis  true^  *tis  pity — and 
pity  'tis,  'tis  true — a  foolish  speech.'' 

'*  Right,  a  very  foolish  one ; — ^but  what  sort 
of  a  chap  is  this  low  sailor  ?" 

**  A  mean-looking,  dranken  hound,  that  has 
just  married  his  trollop.  He  has  been  making 
a  precious  ass  of  himself — '  Write  him  down 
an  ass»^  as  we  say  in  Sbakspeare — everybody  is 
laughing  at  him.  He  has  '  no  good  grace  to 
grace  a  gentleman,^  like  your  worship,  but 
goes  about  in  jacket  and  trousers,  making  a 


JACK  A8BOBX.  119 

very  fool  of  himself;  *  A  fool,  a  fool — ^I  met  a 
fool  r  th'  forest— a  motley  fod— a  miserable 
▼arlet^  This  gander  and  his  goose  are  making 
ducks  and  drakes  of  their  money.  A  terribly 
biazen-faoed  wench  his  wife !  We  know  that — 
don't  we,  my  oock-a-doodles?*^  winking  to  his 
two  fijends,  who  returned  his  sign  with  a 
knowing  leer  to  the  right  and  left.  <<  Well,  this 
PoD,  that  he  has  now  made  my  lady,  has  kept 
him  spoonily  drunk  for  die  last  week — made 
him  play  the  mountebank  and  jack-pudding 
before  all  Portsmouth — and,  just  to  keep  her 
in  exercise,  wops  him  every  half  hour  of  his 
life ;  and  were  she  to  wop  the  life  out  of  the 
poor  zany, '  'twere  a  consummation  devoutly  to 
be  wished.^ 

'*  A  sad  tale  this^  young  man,"  said  Jack ; 

but  do  'spectable  people  say  all  this  ?^ 

*  Our  burghers  in  our  streets^ — why,  'tis 
the  common  voice  of  rumour ;  respectable,  said 
your  worship? — there  it  is — they  did  say  he 
made  a  tolerable  tarry-breeks,  though  he  was 
given  to  lush,  and  sometimes  got  his  hide 
scored  down  with  the  cat-— but  that  money  and 


120  JACK   ASHORE. 

rank  are  thrown  away  entirely  upon  such  a 
sorry  nincompoop — ^he  is  a  contemptible  ass." 

^*  I  do  hefpn  to  see  it,"  said  Jack;  *^but 
what  may  your  business  be  with  him  ? — do  him 
out  of  a  little  of  the  ready,  hey  ? — Make  him 
drunk  first  ?" 

*•  Why,  we  might,  but  the  poor  fool  is  such 
an  infernal  bore — too  much  honour  to  sit  with 
him — a  paltry  fellow.  We  could  frighten  him 
out  of  his  cash  by  only  looking  ugly  at  him,  if  the 
poor  knave  had  the  spirit  to  keep  any ;  but  his 
brimstone  hussy  never  allows  him  more  than 
three-halfpence  at  a  time  in  his  pocket^-our 
business  is  with  her  I" 

"With  who  P** 

«  With  Poll  of  Point  as  was— Lady  True- 
penny as  is — ^at  least  as  long  as  some  of  us 
like.  We  are  going  to  make  her  fork  out 
handsomely  — '  a  hundred  thousand  ducats, 
more  or  less."*  '^ 

"  But  what'll  Jack  say — Sir  John  Truepenny, 
I  mean  T^ 

**  ^  I  with  his  poor  presence  will  dispense  ;* 
give  the  poor  fool  twopence,  and  tell  him  to 


JACK    ASHORE.  121 

go  and  make  a  beast  of  himself  at  the  next  pot- 
house ;  and  should  he  not  *  unto  my  words 
seriously  incline,'  I  shall  be  seriously  inclined 
to  kick  him  there." 

"  You  will  ?  Now  that's  very  boldly  said, 
and  I  like  you  for  it;  shiver  my  topsails,  but 
should  he  get  yardarm  and  yardarm " 

*^  Blitzen !  but  dere  bish  someting  wrong. 
Who  might  dis  gentlemens  be?''  said  the 
foreign  sailor. 

Jack  shrank  back  into  the  shell  of  the  baronet 
again  quickly ;  and  adjusting  his  cravat  like  a 
monkey  before  a  looking-glass,  said— <<  Don^t 
wonder,  my  good  sir,  that  now  and  then  I  comes 
it  man-o-war  fashion.  I  have  the  honour  to  be 
a  land-shark,  as  the  sailors,  God  bless  'em  all, 
call  me — ^a  lawyer,  and  my  practice  is  among 
them — I  do  'em  all — ^get  'em  their  wages — ^and 
in  the  marchant  sarvice  make  ^em  bring  actions 
agin  their  skippers  for  quilting  Vm ;  you  cir- 
cumstand.  Have  made  a  pretty  fortin,  I  tell 
ye,  and  only  practise  now  and  then  for  the  mere 
pleasure  of  doing  a  good  action --dammee — 

VOL.  TI.  G 


132  JACK   ASHORE. 

ah !" — ^and    Jack    riddled    about   and  looked 
grand. 

**  Why,  youVe  the  very  geDtleman  for  our 
purpose.  Honour,  honour,  you  know,  among 
thieves.  I  beg  their  pardon  for  classing  a 
lawyer  with  them ;  but,  as  the  play  says,  *  ad- 
versity doth  make  us  acquainted  with  strange 
bed-fellows.^  So^  sir,  my  name  is  Horatio 
Hildebrand — a  travelling  denomination/' 

"  A  purser's  name?"  said  Jack. 

**  Not  so,  sir,  for  I  have  no  purse,  and 
naught,  if  I  had,  that  purse  withal  to  fill.  But 
you  shall  help  me.  I  am  merely  the  friend  of 
these  two  worthy  gentl^sien,  acades  ambo. 
You  understand  law  Latin,  cf  course?" 

•*  Of  course.  Go  on — let  me  bear  bow  you 
circumstand  it.  Wrong,  I've  a  notion,^'  said 
Jack. 

"  Then  you  will  correct  me,  sir ;    but  not 
now — I  always  translate  best  after  dinner  over 
ray  wine ;  but  it  means,  in  a  general  way,  that 
we  three  will  go  to  the  devil  for  one  another." 
You   are  quite  right — I  have  no  doubt 


« 


JACK   ASHORE.  123 

about  it  Now  for  your  bisnis  with  Poll — 
Lady  Truepenny." 

**  Why,  sir,  this,  d^ye  see,  is  the  rights  on't. 
'  The  course  of  true  love  never  yet  ran  smooth,^ 
apd  a  very  rough  course  we've  made  of  it.  We 
intend  to  live  better  for  all  time  to  come — hate 
work  of  any  sort ;  we  three — we,  the  glorious 
(icadea  amboy  intend  to  be  gentlefolks  for  the 
rest  ci  our  lives,  and  Lady  Truepenny  is  to 
furnish  us  our  means.  *  The  world,'  no,  no, 
she^s  <  mine  oyster,  which  I  with'  fright  ^  will 
open.' " 

'*  A  good  opening  speech,  as  we  say  at  the 
bar,"  said  Jack.  '*  Heave  ftbead — I  mean  haul 
in  the  slack  of  your  jawing  tacks.  State  your 
case  to  the  big  wigs." 

**  Simple— plain  as  way  to  parish  church. 
Allow  me  to  introduce  you  to  one  of  my  ambo$ 
— Johannes  Dondertromp,  Maiy  Macannister's 
first  budiand — Mr.  Jeremy  Dwindlebink,  doll- 
maker  asid  carver  in  wood,  Mrs.  Dondertromp's 
second  husband— both  alive  and  kicking—- that 
ifl^  if  to  kick  they  chose.    Now,  *  the  chink^s 

G  2 


124  JACK    A8H0EE. 

the  thing  by  which  we'll  prove  the  conscience 
of  the  king* — no^  I  mean  the  queen/' 

<<  God  bless  me  i  shiver  my  timbers !  What 
two  ? — taken  flat  aback,  by  the  lord  !  Jam  me 
like  Jackson,  if  a  cat*s-paw  would*n't  blow 
away  my  headsheets.  The  damnable  huzzy  I 
Two — ^good  P'  said  Jack,  in  something  like  a 
topsail-breeze  passion. 

^^  O,  I  see  you  are  moved,  sir,**  said  Mr. 
Hildebrand.  *^  Three  husbands  is  too  much. 
The  depravity  of  the  world  is  great  I  This 
atrocious  bigamy  shocks  you,  sir  P 

^*  Bigamy,  man  alive  I  Worse,  much  worse — 
two  husbands  is  bigamy,  sir^  but  three  is  a 
bigger  sin,  and  must  be  biggeramy,'*  answered 
Jack  ;  ^*  but,  as  I  take  it,  a  baronet  must  be 
equal  to  two  or  three  common  men,  this  last 
marriage  must  make  it  biggerestamy.  llie 
devil  split  her  into  staves  for  rum  casks.'* 

^*  Perhaps,  sir,**  said  Mr.  Dwindlebink,  in  a 
small-beer  voice,  ^*  your  worship  means  poly- 
gamy." 

"  I  owe  you  one,**^  said  Jack,  squirting  his 


JACK  ASUOBE.  125 

saliva  from  the  corner  of  his  mouth  in  the  lean 
chaps  of  Mr.  Dwindlebink.  '<  Polly  has 
gammoned  me  by  the  hooky  I  and  PoUygamy  it 
is.     The  deceitful  slut  I"* 

'^  Ah !  your  indignation  is  natural — but  we 
must  be  generous.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  destroy 
the  peace  of  a  distinguished  family — to  plant 
thorns  upon  the  nuptial  pillow.  We  have 
tender  consciences — we  are  merciful— Lady 
Truepenny  shall  settle  on  u»  two  hundred  a 
year  a  piece,  and  graves  shall  not  be  more 
silent  Just  a  legal  instrument,  not  mentioning 
the  consideration — spare  people's  delicate  feel- 
ings, of  course.  So«  sir,  if  you'll  just  step  home 
and  draw  up  something  natty " 

**  Yes,  yes — done  in  the  shifting  of  a  topsail ; 
but  clink  down  first— I  must  touch— queer  go- 
secret  service  money,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
Ten  guineas  to  begin  with  !'' 

**  What  a  land-shark  T'  said  Horatio^  in  a 
most  elegant  stage  whisper.  **  But  you  must 
wait  till  we  get  the  first  instalment  So  set 
too,  and  begin  driving  the  quill ;  well  bring 
the  mopusses  in  an  hour  or  so.     Lady  True- 


126  JACK  AftHOEB. 

penny  must  come  down  something  handsome 
for  a  commence.*" 

**  All  that's  Tery  good,  Horace,**  said  the 
mechanic;  '^  but  this  gentleman,  if  he  is  a 
lawyer,  must  be  laughing  at  us.  No  deed  or 
instrument  you  can  frighten  her  into  signing 
can  be  of  any  value.  All  that  we  can  do  is  to 
draw  as  much  money  out  of  her  as  possible, 
and  to  stick  to  her  like  bricks  wherever  she 
goes.  Horace^  you  are  always  rash  and  im- 
prudent; but  I  am  sure  this  gentleman  is  a 
man  of  honour,  and  will  not  betray  us,  espe- 
cially as  we  will  call  at  his  oiRce  after  our  in* 
terview,  and  give  him  his  share  of  the  swag. 
So,  sir,  for  the  present,  we  will  wish  you  good 
morning." 

••  Avast  there !  my  friend  I  you  had  better 
take  me  with  you,*'  said  Jack ;  ^  my  company 
will  prove  that  you  are  in  earnest,  and  as  I 
just  know  all  about  the  house— it  belongs  to  a 
relation  of  mine — I  can  take  you  slap  into  PoD^^s 
bedroom  before  that  ass  of  a  Jack  Truepenny 
is  up  to  it.'* 

"  But  where  is  Sir  John  ?" 


JACK  A8HOBB.  127 

"  I  hove  good  retaon  to  know  that  he  is  far 
enough  off  from  her  room  now.  So  come 
aloi^,  my  hearties — berets  Ae  latch^ke; — 9lYs 
right  — clap  OQ  more  canvass,  and  be  d— >*-d 
toye.** 

A  very  short  walk  brought  the  four  to  the 
house.  Jack  opened  the  door,  and  motioning 
them  to  be  cautious,  they  were  all  soon  in  PoIFs 
bedroom.  She  was  still  sleeping  heavily.  Jack 
concealed  himself  partly  behind  the  bed«<ur- 
tains,  and  with  his  back  to  the  light  began  to 
give  directions. 

**  She  won't  rouse,  you  see — ^had,  last  night, 
many  drops  too  much.  Tweak  her  by  the 
nose— do  it  gently,  you  hound.  There,  she 
moves — what,  off  again — why  then  we  must 
blow  the  grampus." 

He  then  discharged  the  contents  of  the  water- 
jug  on  her  face  and  neck,  and  she  opened  her 
eyes,  and  would  have  screamed,  had  not  the 
prompt  Horatio  clapped  his  hand  over  her  mouth. 

*•  Hush,  my  lady,"  said  he,  **  we  are  your 
dear  friends,  and  some  of  us  something  more- 
There    is    good    Mynheer  Dondertromp  —  as 


128  JACK   A8HOEK. 

Hamlet  says,  ^  what  brings  you  from  Elsinore?*— 
and  here  is  the  expert  doll-maker— all  of  us 
come  to  share  your  good  fortune,  my  lady. 
This  stylish  gentleman,  with  the  powdered  pate, 
is  a  very  learned  lawyer — we  sha'n't  be  hard 
upon  you— remember  it's  only  a  hanging  matter 
— so  we  will  be  content  with  fifty  pounds  now, 
and  we  will  come  to  an  arrangement  for  future 
supplies.  We  shall  all  be  so  comfortable  and 
happy  I** 

^^  What  on  earth  shall  I  do,"  said  the  lady, 
wringing  her  hands.     **  Where's  Jack  ?" 

"  Shall  we  send  for  him,  my  lady  ?*'  said 
Hildebrand. 

*^  My  gracious  God,  no.  What  a  wretch  I 
am  !'* 

It  is  enough  to  say  that  the  girl  understood 
the  full  danger  of  her  predicament ;  so  she  pro- 
duced what  remained  of  Jack's  money,  all  her 
little  trinkets  and  valuables,  and  the  best  of 
her  clothes.  Having  nothing  more  to  give,  the 
gentlemen  were  pleased  to  say  that  they  were 
satisfied  for  the  present,  but  that  they  must 
see  her  again  in  the  course  of  a  week. 


JACK   A8H0BE*  129 

Polly  Still  remained  in  her  bed  moaning*  and 
swaying  herself  to  and  fro,  in  the  greatest 
mental  agony.  She  scarcely  had  looked  at 
her  husband,  and,  had  she  looked  attentively, 
in  all  probability  she  would  not  have  recognised 
him. 

Jack  had  made  four  little  heaps  of  the  money 
on  the  table,  and  four  piles  of  the  clothes  on 
the  floor,  in  the  most  conscientious  manner. 
All  the  conversation  had  been  carried  on  in 
whispers,  and  Jack  had  hissed  his  words 
through  his  teeth  in  a  very  startling  manner. 

*^  We  must  make  haste  and  be  ofl^,'*  said  the 
actor.  **  This  has  been  a  good  moming^s  work 
to  begin  with." 

**  You  give  all  this  as  a  free  gift,"  madam, 
hissed  Jack.     ^*  We  are  no  robbers.'' 

*<  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure— and  thank  you  ; 
but  what  story  shall  I  tell  Jack  when  he  comes  ?** 
said  the  weeping  Polly. 

'*  That  three  dirty  villains  crept  into  your 
room,  and  plundered  it,"  said  Jack. 

«  Four,"  chimed  in  Horatio  Hildebrand. 

^*  You  lie,^  roared  out  the  irritated  Sir  John, 

o5 


130  JACK   ASHOEE. 

sweeping  up  all  the  money,  and  flinging  it  into 
Polly's  lap.  In  the  next  instant  he  had  a 
trusty  cudgel  in  his  hand,  and  actively  it  played 
upon  the  heads  of  the  intruders. 

^^  I' am  Jack  ashore,  you  extortionating  ras* 
cals!" 

They  retreated  with  the  utmost  expedition ; 
nor  did  Jack  cease  kicking  and  striking  until  they 
were  fairly  out  of  the  house.  Sorrowfully 
and  slowly  he  then  returned  into  his  bedroom. 
His  lady  was  exactly  in  the  same  position  in 
which  he  had  left  her — transfixed  with  a  stupe- 
fying misery.  Jack  was  prepared  to  be  angry, 
but  her  wretchedness  completely  subdued  every 
feeling  but  grief.  He  took  a  chair  near  her,  and, 
after  a  pause,  said,  **  Polly,  are  you  sober  P" 

'^  O  yes,  my  dear,  dear  Jack — what  a  wretch 
I  am  !     Do  you  forgive  me?" 

^*  Ah,  Poll !  how  much  happiness  you  have 
destroyed !  But  I\e  been  a  great  fool ;  I  should 
have  looked  upon  myself  as  a  child,  and  allowed 
that  glorious  fellow.  Sir  Edward  Fortintower, 
to  have  taken  me  in  tow.  Yesterday  I  intended 
should  have  been  the  last  day  of  my  folly,  and 


JACK  A8HOBK.  131 

to  have  commenced  to^ay  a  new  reckoning.  I 
should  have  b^un  by  wopping  you  well  this 
morning;  for.  Poll,  you  have  behaved  shock- 
ingly for  the  last  three  or  four  days.** 

*^  I  have,  I  have,  dear  Jack ;  do^  only  do 
wop  me  now,  within  an  inch  of  my  life.  I  de- 
serve it  aU,  and  more — it  will  be  some  relief  to 
me — indeed  it  will  do  me  good  ! " 

'^  But  little  good,  niy  dear  PoU,  I  can  do 
you  now,  or  you  should  be  decidedly  welcome 
to  it.  What  beautiful  plans  you  have  spoiled ! 
I  intended  to  have  taken  you  quietly  into  some 
longway-off  part  of  the  country,  where  nobody 
knew  us,  and  given  us  both  some  eddication, 
and  then  we  should  have  worked  our  traverse 
into  fine  gentlefolks  in  a  proper  and  shipshape 
fashion ;  but  now.  Poll,  you  can  be  nothing  to 
me  but  my  woman.  Why  did  you  deceive  me 
— why  did  you  ?** 

^  Och  hone  I  och  hone  I  I'm  a  poor  lost 
body.  I  was  very  wrong ;  but  your  glory  came 
so  suddenly  that  I  had  not  time  to  think — I 
have  been  wild — I  have  been  mad  !     Why  did 


132  JACK    ASHORE. 

they  ever  ruin  us  by  giving  us  this  vile  fortin  P 
How  happy  we  were  before — how  happy  !** 

"  Indeed  we  were." 

**  Did  I  not,  Jack,  keep  all  your  things  nice 
and  clean  ?  How  snug  we  were  messed  round 
our  gun  on  the  lower-deck  !  When  the  sea  was 
roaring  and  the  wind  howling,  and  you  came 
dovm  from  your  night-watch  wet  and  weary, 
had  I  not  always  a  clean  and  dry  change  for 
you,  and  a  glass  of  saved  grog  too  P — then  we 
were  happy !  how  we  used  to  laugh,  and  joke, 
and  sing !  And  our  shipmates  so  jolly  and  so 
kind  I    Och  hone  !  och  hone  I " 

*^  Dress  yourself.  Poll,  as  quick  as  you  can  ; 
bear  a  hand,  there^s  a  dear  soul.    Though  I 

don't  see  what  good  it  can  do  to  your  d d 

husbands,  they  may  send  the  runners  after  you ; 
bear  a  hand,  my  soul — bear  a  band/' 

<^  I  will  not  bear  a  hand,  my  good  Jack — I 
will  not.  I'll  sit  liere  and  talk  of  the  happy 
past.  Let  us  talk  of  our  messmates,  Jack — 
the  good,  sensible,  old  Giles  Grimm  !  with  his 
large  bible  on  Sunday  nights.** 


JACK   ASHORE.  133 

"  My  father— my  more  than  father  !  where 
ishe?'' 

<^  And  I  so  good  afloat,  and  such  a  drunken 
wretch  ashore.  What  has  he  said — what  would 
he  say? — I  shall  need  him  and  his  bible  soon. 
Do  you  remember,  dear  Jack,  how  he  used  to 
'spound  the  text,  *  Watch  and  pray' — telling  us 
as  how  he  thought  that  sailors  were  'sensed 
praying  so  much  as  others,  as  they  watched 
more — being  generally  put  in  watch  and  watch 
— at  least,  that  was  his  notion ;  but  that  when 
a  sailor  did  pray,  he  should  pray  heartily. 
The  good  GUes!'* 

"  All  this  is  very  well,  Poll;  but,  just  now, 
neither  here  nor  there.  Get  up,  I  tell  ye ;  and 
now  I'm  rigged  in  the  long  togs,  you  had  better 
ship  my  jacket  and  trousers,  and  slip  out  the 
back  way — do  it,  Poll,  for  love  of  me — that's  a 
good  girL  I'll  go  to  Sir  Edward  and  the 
lawyer,  and  see  what  can  be  done.  Walk  to 
mother  Shepherd's,  and  shell  stow  you  away— 
rU  send  or  come  in  the  course  of  the  day,  de- 
pend on't.  Take  all  the  money— you  may  want 
it.     Whilst  you  dress,  I'll  go  and  keep  watch 


134  JACK   A8H0SE. 

at  the  door,  and  should  you  hear  me  whistle,  be 
off  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  dressed  or  not. 
Grood-bye,  Poll,  and  the  Lord  keep  you.^ 

The  girl,  more  to  oblige  Jack  than  anxious 
for  her  own  safety,  obeyed ;  and  then  Sir  John, 
adjusting  a  little  his  dress,  disordered  by  the 
thrashing  he  bad  lately  administered,  with  a 
heavy  heart  and  an  ill-assumed  cheerfulness  of 
countenance^  sauntered  up  and  down  before  his 
own  door. 

He  had  not  made  many  quarter-deck  turas 
before  a  smart,  dapper  young  fellow  stepped  up 
to  him,  and  for  the  second  time  that  morning 
was  asked  for  the  whereabouts  of  himself. 

**  I  dm  Sir  John  Truepenny,'*  said  our  hero, 
**  and  a  miserable  Sir  John  am  I,^  he  continued 
in  a  lower  tone. 

**  Very  well.  Sir  John ;  you  will  be  pleased 
to  remember  that  I  have  served  you  with  this 
notice  personally.  Yoii  had  better  communi- 
cate with  your  solicitor  forthwith.  I  have  the 
honour  to  be.  Sir  John,  your  most  obedient 
and  very  humble  servant,  and  to  wish  you  a 
very  good  morning.'' 


JACK   ASaOBB.  135 

''  Halloa !  hold  on  !  What's  all  this  about, 
and  who  the  devil  are  you?** 

'*  I  have  the  honour  to  aasist  in  the  ofSoe  of 
Messrs.  Totterdaw  and  Clubfoot,  attomeys-at« 
law,  and  in  this  case  agents  to  Mr.  Scrivener, 
solicitor.  That  is  a  notice  of  action  for  damages, 
on  account  of  breach  of  promise  of  marriage 
with  Miss  Susan  Snowdrop,  spinster.  Con- 
sidering the  atrocity  of  the  case,  we  cannot  lay 
the  damages  at  less  than  ten  thousand  pounds. 
I  wish  you  a  very  good  morning.^ 

When  Jack  was  left  alone,  he  took  the  docu- 
ment, and  turned  it  over,  but  he  could  make 
nothing  at  all  of  it.  He  shook  his  head  over 
it  till  the  powder  flew  about  in  all  directions. 
But  he  had  already  begun  to  grow  cautious,  so 
be  folded  it  up  very  carefully,  and  put  it  in  his 
pocket,  with  the  intention  of  laying  it  before 
Sir  Edward  and  his  own  legal  adviser. 

Sir  John  still  kept  upon  his  watch  of  love, 
but  in  a  fearful  whirlpool  of  various  agitations. 
He  stepped  into  the  house  from  time  to  time, 
to  hurry  Poll  in  her  act  of  disguising  herself; 
but  she  was  so  much  overcome  with  dismay 


136  JACK   ASHORE. 

and  sorrow,  that  it  proceeded  but  slowly.  Sir 
John  was  once  more  on  his  short  perambula- 
tions, when  the  lawyer's  clerk  was  again  seen 
advancing  towards  him,  but  now  accompanied 
by  two  fellows,  that  even  Jack^s  inexperienced 
eye  immediately  recognised  as  tipstaves  or 
thief-takers.  He,  fearing  the  worst  for  the 
wretched  girl,  began  to  whistle^  and  she,  in  her 
bewilderment,  instead  of  making  for  the  garden 
at  the  back  of  the  house^  put  her  unfortunate 
head  out  of  the  window  in  the  front,  on  the 
first  floor,  much  more  intent  upon  her  lover 
than  on  her  own  safety. 

'*  That  is  Sir  John  Truepenny,"  said  the  in- 
telligent lawyer^s  clerk,  with  a  provoking 
smile. 

Jack^s  shoulder  was  tapped  in  the  usual 
style,  and  the  usual  long  slip  of  parchment  put 
into  his  hand.  But  nothing  now  astonished 
him.  The  sheriff ''s  oflBcers  gloated  on  him  as 
if  he  were  their  best  and  their  natural  prey. 
Sir  John  merely  asked  an  explanation,  but  he 
was  a  little  surprised  when  told  that  if  he  did 
not  pay  Mrs.  Snowdrop  three  hundred  and  fifty 


JACK  A8U0RE.  137 

odd  pounds,  he  must  go  to  jail  or  find  bail — 
in  fact,  that  he  was  actually  a  prisoner. 

At  this  intimation.  Jack  coolly  measured  them 
from  top  to  toe^  cogitating  pugnaciously.  But 
lifting  up  his  eyes,  and  meeting  those  of 
Polly's  streaming  with  tears,  he  was  determined 
to  take  everything  quietly  until  he  had  seen 
her  safely  off. 

It  hardly  need  be  said,  that  a  crowd  of 
oiBcious  persons  had  now  collected,  for  it 
was  well  known  to  every  soul  in  Porchester 
that  Sir  John  was  one  of  its  temporary  residents. 
Jack  looked  round  in  a  droll,  helpless  way,  and 
asked  one  of  the  most  respectable  bystanders 
what  he  had  better  do.  He  was  advised  to 
take  the  oflBcers  into  the  house,  and  either  send 
for  his  friends,  or  hire  a  conveyance  immediately 
and  go  to  them. 

Consequently,  our  hero  went  in  with  the 
officers,  but  he  was  extremely  annoyed  when 
he  found  that  they  would  not  permit  him 
out  of  their  sight.  To  communicate  with 
Poll  was  impossible,  and  she,  with  the  infatua- 
tion of  the   self-doomed,  would    not   remove 


138  JACK    ASHOHE. 

from  her  fate.  Sir  John,  however,  was  deter- 
mined not  to  leave  the  house  till  he  knew 
what  was  to  become  of  her,  and  the  tipstaves 
being  very  instructive  as  to  the  mimner  in 
which  they  considered  they  ought  to  be  treated, 
refreshments  of  every  description  w^re  shortly 
placed  before  them. 

An  hour  of  feverish  anxiety  passed  away, 
and  poor  Jack,  from  the  pacing  to  and  fro 
overhead^  was  still  sensible  that  the  victim 
had  not  escaped  He  trembled  at  every  noise, 
and  shuddered  every  time  tiiat  the  street 
door  was  opened.  At  length,  much  to  his 
satisfaction,  Giles  Grimm  made  his  appear- 
ance. No  sooner  had  he  got  him  into  a 
comer,  and  before  be  could  explain  to  him  the 
state  of  affairs,  the  door  of  the  room  was  vio. 
lently  flung  open,  and  three  constables,  with  the 
hated  Horatio  Hildebrand,  rushed  into  the 
room.  Jack  whistled  energetically,  but  it  was 
too  late.  Poll  was  captured  as  she  was  de- 
scending the  stairs,  and  the  scene  of  distress 
became  terribl& 

Sir  John  was  now  as  anxious  to  go  as  he 


JACK   A8H0BB.  139 

had  been  before  to  remain.  There  was  a 
summoiit  served  on  him  to  appear  as  a  witness, 
and  the  immediate  presence  of  all  parties  in 
Portsmouth  became  necessary.  Two  glass 
coaches  were  procured,  and^  in  a  short  time, 
they  were  all  in  the  Town-ball  before  the  mayor^ 
and  in  her  sailor^s  attire  Polly  was  placed  in 
the  dock,  charged  with  aggravated  bigamy. 

Every  event  of  Jack's  life  for  the  last  few 
days  was  big  with  interest,  and  not  only  three, 
but  thirty  volumes  would  be  requisite  to  paint  all 
the  incidents  that  arose  from  them.  The  hall 
wais  crowded.  Jack  had  made  himself  too 
ridiculously  notorious  not  to  be  the  gazing 
stock  of  every  one  who  could  command  the 
opportunity  of  looking  upon  him ;  and  as  he 
there  stood  before  tbe  magistrates,  a  tipstaff  on 
each  side,  a  more  miserable  baronet,  by  those 
even  well-steeped  in  misery,  could  not  be  con- 
ceived. 

The  evidence  against  Mrs.  Dondertromp 
was  short  and  conclusive*  Bigamy  was  then 
a  capital  offence.  She  was  committed  to 
the  county  prison  to  take  her  trial  for  her  life 


140  JACK   A8HORE. 

at  the  next  assizes.  Mynheer  Dondertromp 
and  Mister  Dwindlebink,  not  being  able  to  pro- 
cure any  one  to  be  bound  for  their  appearance 
as  witnesses,  were  committed  to  the  same  prison. 
Sir  John  soon  found  securities ;  and  Mr.  Sin- 
gleheart  procured  him  the  necessary  bail  in 
Mrs.  Snowdrop's  actions.  Poll  was  taken  away 
in  violent  hysterics,  and  Jack  now  saw  himself 
nearly  an  isolated  being. 

His  attorney  had  been  civil  and  attentive, 
but  distant,  and  Jack  felt  too  much  shame  to 

force  his  company  upon  him,  or  to  seek  that  of 

* 

Sir  Edward.  When  he  left  the  court,  he  was 
obliged  to  have  the  protection  of  constables 
against  the  annoyance  of  the  crowd. 

At  last  Giles  Grimm,  who  had  never  left  his 
side,  got  him  into  a  private  house,  and  when 
he  found  himself  alone  with  his  friend,  his 
contending  and  miserable  feelings  fairly  over- 
came him,  and  seizing  the  old  man's  hands,  he 
burst  into  tears. 

^*  Cheer  up,  cheer  up,  messmate  P'  said  the 
old  quartermaster ;  *^  it's  black  and  stormy 
now,  but  it  will  be  fresh  breezes  and  fine  to- 


JACK    ABHORS.  141 

monx>w.  Let  us  dine  like  rational  folks,  and 
have  one  quiet  glass  of  grog  after — you'll  do 
well  then.'* 

**  Poor  Poll  I  she'll  be  hanged ;  and  all  be- 
cause they  made  me  a  banrownight.  She  might 
have  spliced  with  all  the  larboard  watch  of  the 
Glory,  and  neither  of  these  beggars  would  have 
come  forrard--but  when  they  thought  they 
could  squeeze  the  gold  out  of  her — the  varmin  I 
And  I,  Giles,  must  stand  up  and  help  to  put 
the  rope  round  her  neck  !" 

^*  She  deceived  ye,  Jack — that's  a  plaster  for 
your  sore  heart*^ 

*^  She  did — but,  fur  a  Portsmouth  wench, 
she  was  a  good  girl.  Eat  the  dinner  yourself: 
I'll  go  to  bed.  The  Lord  have  mercy  upon 
her !" 


142  JACK    A8H0BB. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Jack  shows  symptoms  of  returnii^  to  bis  senses  orer  s  slioul- 
der  of  mutton — Makes  large  piomises  of  amendmeiit-*A 
summary  of  proceedings,  snd  the  sum-total  tains  out  to  be 
totally  disagreeable— Lots  of  good  advice,  to  be  taken  at  n 
fair  valuation— Too  dear,  aod  not  taken  at  all — An  interest- 
ing interyiew,  followed  by  an  interesting  arrangement. 

Long,  earnest,  and  repeated  were  the  consulta- 
tions held  between  Sir  Edward  and  Mr.  Sin- 
gleheart,  respecting  the  course  that  Sir  John 
Truepenny  had  lately  run,  his  present  situation, 
and  his  future  prospects.  That  all  these  folh'es, 
and  the  apparent  issue  of  them,  were  to  the 
advantage  of  Edward,  he  was  fully  aware,  but 
this  very  consideration  only  increased  his  regrets. 


JACK    ASHORE.  143 

The  well-meaning  and  good-tempered  lawyer 
was  of  opinion  that  Sir  Edward  had  already 
done  sufficient  for  the  new  baronet  to  vindicate 
his  own  honour  and  probity,  and  to  display  the 
most  friendly  feelings.  He  therefore  advised  an 
instant  return  to  London,  so  that  he  might 
set  his  own  house  in  order,  and  watch  his  own 
individual  interests.  Mr.  Singleheart,  in  order 
the  more  effectually  to  induce  him  to  do  this, 
promised  to  watch  carefully  over  bis  cKent,  and, 
if  possible,  rescue  him  from  further  disgrace, 
and  shield  him  from  fresh  exposures. 

But  to  all  this  prudent  advice  Sir  Edward 
would  not  listen  for  a  moment  He  stated  his 
intention,  to  which  he  declared  that  he  would 
firmly  adhere,  not  to  abandon  his  cousin,  unless 
he  should  commit  some  offence  more  grave 
than  either  imprudence  or  extravagance.  To 
act  otherwise,  he  felt  would  not  be  redeeming 
the  solemn  promise  that  he  had  given  to  Ann 
Truepenny. 

Mr.  Singleheart,  whilst  he  applauded  the 
heroism  of  this  sentiment,  heavily  censured 
the  self-sacrificing  conduct  that  it  produced, 


144  JACK   ASHORE. 

and,  as  he  could  not  condemn,  and  would  not 
oppose,  he  very  wisely  resolved,  for  the  present, 
to  say  no  more  upon  the  subject. 

Sir  John  had  **  turned  in''  at  his  new  abode, 
and  discovered,  when  he  awoke  about  six  o^clock 
in  the  evening,  that  he  had,  notwithstanding 
the  acuteness  of  his  misery,  slept  some  hours, 
and  that  his  sensations  of  hunger  and  regret 
were  equally  divided,  though  the  lady  whom 
he  had  so  lately  elected  as  the  wife  of  his 
bosom  was  very  shortly  going  to  be  hung. 

Of  what  use  is  it  repeating  that  man  is  a 
mass  of  contradictions?  The  trite  aphorism 
does  not  say  enough.  Every  feeling,  every 
impulse,  every  principle  by  which  he  is  ac- 
tuated, be  it  good  or  bad  in  the  general  accepta- 
tion, is,  to  the  individual  whom  it  impels, 
neither  wholly  good  nor  wholly  bad.  How 
easily  this  might  be  proved  !  What  good 
quality  of  which  man  can  boast,  is  not  re- 
solvable into  a  mean,  or  sordid,  or  vicious  one  ? 
The  catalogue  of  his  virtues  is  very  volumi- 
nous. Indeed,  he  has  invented  a  series  of  very 
imposing  titles  for    almost    all    his    motives. 


JACK    ASHORE.  I45 

Shall  we  take  any  of  these,  the  most  vaunted, 
aod  show  the  quantity  of  its  alloy  ?  No.  The 
task  is  at  once  so  easy  and  so  invidious.  The 
reason  of  the  degraded  nature  of  his  best  quali- 
ties is,  that  man  cannot  divest  himself  of  self. 
All  his  acts,  having  reference  to  his  indivi- 
duality, taint  them  so  deeply  with  a  base 
selfishness,  that  he  is  obliged  to  take  refuge  in 
all  manner  of  false  moralities  for  his  justifica- 
tion, and  thus  applauds  such  sentiments  as 
**  self-love  and  social  are  the  same/' 

Let  the  severely  judging  bear  this  in  mind, 
and  not  be  too  harsh  upon  the  disconsolate 
Jack,  when,  on  coming  down  stairs,  he  found 
consolation  in  seeing  that  the  faithful  Giles 
Grimm  had  kept  dinner  for  him,  and  that,  on 
observing  the  quiet  neatness  of  all  around  him,  he 
actually  felt  a  glow  of  pleasure  at  the  idea  that 
his  own  Poll  would,  at  this  peaceful  meal, 
neither  annoy  him  by  her  vain  absurdities,  nor 
disgust  him  by  her  too  intemperate  habits; 
although  he  very  well  knew  that  at  that 
moment  she  was  subjected  to  prison  discipline, 
upon  prison  fare,  and  her  very  life  in  peril. 

VOL.    II.  II 


146  JACK  ASUOBX. 

A  shoulder  of  mutton  baked  over  a  batter* 
pudding,  peas,  and  new  potatoes,  with  two 
foaming  pots  of  porter,  formed  the  dinner  of 
the  wealthy  baronet.  Two  bottles  of  port 
wine,  with  some  excellent  American  crackers, 
and  a  couple  of  red  herrings,  composed  the 
dessert,  to  which  Sir  John  and  Giles  Grimm  did 
ample  justice.  The  dress  of  the  baronet  was, 
at  this  dinner,  rather  grotesque.  He  had 
shaken  nearly  all  the  powder  out  of  his  hair, 
and  ruptured  his  coat  and  pantaloons  in  various 
places.  His  neckerchief  was  in  all  manner  of 
strange  shapes,  and  the  glory  of  his  cambric 
frill  had  departed. 

Giles  Grimm,  having  received  his  orders 
that  Jack  was  not  yet  to  be  Sir  John,  they  con- 
versed together  as  old  messmates  do  over  their 
grog.  The  old  sailor  was  not  yet  reconciled 
to  the  seeing  so  thorough  a  seaman  in  mufti, 
and  so  he  plainly  expressed  himself. 

^  Why,  as  to  that,  father,  you  see  one  would 
be  shipshape  and  Bristol  fashion.  A  tanned 
sail  mended  with  old  and  new  canvass,  as  the 
case  might  be,  is  all  well  enough  for  a  Dutch 


JACK   ASHORE.  147 

galliot,  but  hismajesty^s  yacht  must  be  as  spruce 
as  a  girl  on  pay-day.  Not,  daddy,  that  I  atn 
over-coDceited  with  this  rig.  But  I  tried  it  on, 
just  to  see  what  way  I  could  make  under  it. 
Not  much,  by  the  holy  I  my  shrouds  are  set 
up  a  precious  ught  too  taut ;  and  Tve  been 
snapping  my  standing  rigging  in  one  way  or 
another,  all  day  long.  I  feel  like  a  ship  in 
irons,  and  can  scarcely  get  my  feet  to  the 
ground,  so  sharp  as  I'm  braced  up.  But 
what  o'  that  ?  I  have  the  heart  to  be  dressed 
as  fine  again,  if  so  be  it^s  my  duty.  FU  not 
flinch.  Every  man  to  his  station^the  quarter- 
master to  the  con,  and  the  swabwasher  to  the 
head.  If  I  must  be  dressed  like  the  lord 
mayor  in  my  new  station,  1^11  bear  it  as  I 
ought  to  do.^ 

*•  Very  well,  my  bo ;  I  never  doubted  your 
courage,  and  you'll  go  through  it  like  a  man. 
You  have  headified  me  with  much  gumption— 
but,  after  all,  the  bible's  the  place  to  get  at 
wisdom.  You've  only  given  me  another  guise 
of  the  prabble  of  the  wedding-garment.  You've 
headified  me,  my  son  !'^ 

H  2 


148  JACK    ASHORE. 

^*  No,  noy  dad ;  I  should  like  to  see  the 
rating  of  the  man  that  could  headify  you — see- 
ing as  how,  for  head  work,  you  can  go  a^head 
of  any  fast-sailing  clipper  as  ever  hugged  the 
wind/' 

"  How  vain  youTl  make  me^  surety  /  Now, 
my  son,  what  course  do  you  lie  next  ?"" 

^<  To  Lunnun,  I'm  speculating ;  but  it  all 
depends  on  the  governor.  I've  been  a  con- 
founded ass,  and  I  don't  intend  to  do  anything 
now,  till  I  get  orders  from  that  trump  of  a  fellow. 
Sir  Edward  Fortintower.  There^s  what  I  calls 
a  true  barrownight — not  such  a  beggarly,  jury- 
rigged,  makeshift  stick  like  myself.  You  see 
I've  left  off  grog;  but,  as  I  am  very  allicholy, 
do  you  think  it  might  hurt  my  title  just  to 
have  a  pipe  ?  Do  barrownights  smoke?  There 
lies  the  pint.  I .  am  ready  to  make  great  sacri- 
fices— ^but  a  pipe — ^" 

**  With  mild  orrownocko,  my  bo  I  it  is  a  nice 
pint.  But  I'm  not  a  barrownight,  nor  likely  to 
be — so  I^U  vote  for  myself." 

"  You  will  smoke,  daddy  ?" 


JACK   A8H0BB.  149 

"  I  will  l^  said  the  old  man,  with  a  firmness 
highly  commendable. 

^^  Then  Vm  blessed  if  I  don't,  for  I'm  mon- 
strous dull.  I  get  along  as  heavy  as  a  bad 
sailing  West  Ingeeman  through  a  field  of  sea- 
weed. My  spirits  are  tangled  with  cares,  and 
there's  an  under-current  setting  backwards  full 
agen  my  heart,  that  makes  me  think  that  all  is 
wanity  and  wexation  of  spirit — 'cos  why  ?  when 
a  feller  gives  himself  up  to  wanity,  like  the  ass 
afore  you,  wexation  of  spirit  is  sure  to  follow  in 
the  wake«  I'm  just  miserable,  and  so  I'll 
smoke." 

And  the  honest  pair  smoked  in  silence  fcr  a 
long  while,  till  at  length  Jack,  being  overcome 
by  the  bitterness  of  his  own  thoughts,  laid 
down  his  pipe,  and  looking  his  old  friend  full 
in  his  face,  made  the  following  lamentation. 

*'  You've  been  a  father  to  me,  when  there 
was  no  one  but  you  to  befriend  me — and  a  good 
father  too ;  and  child,  boy,  and  man,  if  I  ain't 
shown  ye  the  love  and  duty  of  a  son,  it  ain't 
becos  I  hadn't  the  love^  and  didn't  like  the 
duty,  but  becos  I  was  sich  a  fool  I  didn't  know 


150  JACK   ASHORE. 

how  to  show  one  or  toother.  So,  Giles,  as  my 
hearts  full,  let  roe  make  a  clear  hold,  and  don't 
come  athwart  my  hause  till  I  have  said  my 
say.  When  the  ship^s  guns  are  foul,  we  scale 
'em — we  knock  up  a  little  rumpus  for  the  time, 
but  all's  clean  and  fair  arter wards.  So  I'll  just 
bang  off  my  foul  thoughts,  and  try,  like  a  man 
who  is  going  to  swing  into  heaven  from  the 
yard-arm,  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it. 

^*  What  a  man  is  born  for*  his  good  Grod  that 
gave  him  life  only  knows ;  but  I  hopes  I  ain't 
^sumptuous  when  I  says  I  thinks  I  was  bom 
to  the  honour  and  glory  of  being  a  sailor — that 
I  was  bred  up  for  it,  stock  and  fluke,  is  sartain 
— and  no  one  knows  so  well  as  you,  who  had 
the  best  hand  in  my  iM^eding,  that  that's  true. 
A  good  sailor  I  was,  and  am  yet,  though  I 
have  been  fooling  about  in  a  'maphrodite  rig, 
half  seaman  half  barrownight  As  a  tar  I  was 
a  happy  dog— had  my  grievances — what  then  ? 
I  should  have  growed  too  proud  and  impudent 
without  'em.  In  this  world  of  tribulation 
people  are  not  to  be  so  lucky  as  to  be  British 
seamen  without  some  troubles ;  if  it  was   so. 


JACK   ASHORE.  151 

who^d  Stay  ashore?  I  should  like  to  know 
that ! 

**  Now,  I*ve  beeD  a  barrownight  just  seven 
days  this  very  Wednesday— a  barrownight, 
father,  with  a  Sir  stuck  up  before  my  name, 
like  the  union  jack  on  the  bowsprit.  These 
seven  days  I  have  been  a  man  of  great  riches, 
though  little  enough  I  have  seen  of  it,  bating 
a  hundred  pounds  that  I  have  borrowed  of 
somebody — for  whether  I  owe  it  to  a  sharking 
lawyer,  or  to  the  brimstone  bumboat  woman,  or 
whether  I  owe  it  at  all,  the  devil  is  better  able 
to  tell  than  myself;  but  little  good  the  cash 
has  done  me.  Ijet  us  balance  accounts,  father 
Grimm— let  us  compare  the  dead  reckoning 
with  the  latitude  by  observation,  find  the  course 
and  distance  run  as  a  barrownight,  and  just  see 
where  we  are. 

*^  Last  Wednesday  week  they  told  me  I  was 
I,  discharged  me  from  the  ship's  books,  made  a 
tom  fool  of  me  going  ashore,  and  I  made  a 
beast  of  myself  before  I  got  there — ^insulted  a 
lady  in  my  drunkenness,  tumbled  overboard, 
got  a  wopping  from  Poll  'cording  to  my  de- 


152  JACK   ASHOBE. 

sarts,  became  spooney,  and,  when  I  stepped 
ashore,  was  nearly  ton^  to  pieces  by  those  vam- 
pires the  Jews.  I,  a  bold  British  tar,  and  a 
barrownight,  was  forced  to  sneak  to  bed  in  broad 
daylight,  and  was  tlien  delivered  up,  like  one 
bound  hand  and  foot,  to  be  plundered  by  a  de- 
signing she-wolf  and  a  vain  and  conceited  girl. 
O  Poll !  Poll !— but  the  fault  is  all  mine. 

^^  But  thafs  not  nearly  the  worst  of  it, 
father.  I  was  growing  mad.  I  tremble^  I 
shudder,  my  heart  stops  beating,  when  I  think 
of  it.  It  was  but  just  touch  and  go,  my  good 
old  friend— but  just  touch  and  go.  The  wea- 
ther-leach, of  my  senses  was  shaking  in  the 
wind—the  wind  of  madness,  father — the  dark 
rocks  were  close  under  my  lee — the  blast  of  in- 
sanity grew  fresher  and  more  fresh— I  mocked 
myself — I  talked  rubbish — I  fancied  myself 
above  and  better  than  all  the  world,  and  no 
longer  a  mortal  man.  But  another  luff,  and  I 
should  have  been  a  wreck — a  dismasted  hull, 
stranded  God  knows  where!  and  with  his 
blessed  light  gone  from  me  for  ever.  But  an 
angel    seized   the   helm,   and   took   me   safely 


JACK   ASHORE.  153 

through  the  terrible  storm,  and  gave  me  a 
scurjty  that  I  so  little  desarved.  O  Susan 
dear,  sleeping  or  waking,  at  home  or  abroad, 
alone  or  in  company,  may  you  be  in  alL  things 
and  in  all  ways  blest !  I  would  share  with  her 
my  fortune — ^I  would  lay  down  my  life  to  do 
her  service.  How  strange  it  is,  father,  that  I 
never  fell  in  love  with  her.  May  God  Almighty 
bless  her  for  ever  !" 

'*  Amen  I"  said  Giles,  laying  down  his  pipe 
reverently,  and  bowing  his  head. 

^^  Yes,  it  is  to  her  tenderness  that  I  owe  it 
that  I  was  not  a  well-flogged  Sir  John.  It 
would  have  been  better  had  it  been  so.  I  must 
have  remained  quiet  till  I  was  cured,  and  thus 
all  this  folly  and  this  wickedness  had  been 
avoided.  I  did^love  that  bonny  brave  beauty. 
Poll — ^perhaps  the  more  for  some  of  her  faults ; 
but  dear  Susan  !  I  think  of  her  only  as  a  petted 
daughter— she  is  so  young,  and  so  slight, 
and  so  pale !  did  anybody  ever  think  her 
pretty  ?* 

*'  Hundreds,  Jack,  hundreds.   They  thought 
her  'mantic,  and  on  one  pint,  and  that  pint  only, 

H   5 


154  JACK  A9H0EE. 

a  little  odd.  Ah !  my  son,  the  honourable 
offers  she  had  from  the  officers  of  the  Glory. 
The  second  lieutenantf  a  discreet  man,  that 
knows  himself  and  a  sailor's  duty,  went  down 
to  her  on  his  knees,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  I 
think  her  the  most  hinnocentest  female  girl 
that  ever  was.  She  often  put  me  in  mind  of 
the  history  of  Susannah  'rnong  the  elders — only 
I  took  care  she  should  not  be  insulted.  But 
she  is  very  young,  and  in  a  year's  hence  she'll 
forget  you.  Jack,  so  make  yourself  quite  com- 
fortable. Her  beast  of  a  mother — I  ask  God 
pardon  for  calling  any  woman  a  beast — ^will 
turn  to  the  poor  babe  after  all,  for  such  mild- 
ness and  such  sweetness  would  move  the  stock 
of  the  anchor.  But  come  what  will,  she  shall 
have  all  the  little  penny  I  have  saved,  when  I 
lose  the  number  of  my  mess,  and  the  half  of  it 
before,  should  she  want  it  Make  yourself 
easy,  Jack,  shell  forget  the  baronet  in  a 
month,  though  she  might  have  remembered  the 
sprightly  forecastleman  for  a  little  longer.*' 

**  But  she— I   sha'n't  forget  she  in  such   a 
hurry.    Til  speak  to  Sir  Edward^  and  have 


JACK   ASHOEB.  155 

her  away  from  the  old  wretch  her  mother. 
Shall  I  go  on  with  my  ccmfesrion  ?  That  night 
there  was  a  riot»  and  my  bride  that  was  to  be 
got  well  beaten,  and  I  cut  a  roost  contemptible 
figure,  and,  being  heartily  ashamed  of  her  and 
of  myself,  was  forced  to  sneak  into  hiding  until 
the  thing  had  blown  over,  and  Polly's  figure 
got  a  little  more  fit  to  be  seen.  I  then,  as  you 
knows,  played  the  tawdry  mountebank,  and 
disgusted  my  good  friends— got  pelted  and 
covered  with  filih,  and  then  married — we  won^t 
say  what,  father,  for  I  did  that  on  principle,  as 
I  intended  to  reform  her,  or  beat  her  into  a 
mummy.  Now  here  I  sit,  a  pretty  sample 
of  a  barrownight.  My  wife  is  going  to  be 
hung — I've  been  nabbed  for  debt — I  am  bound 
over  to  appear  at  ^sizes  agin  Poll,  and  thus, 
after  a  way,  help  to  tuck  her  up.  I've  got  a 
haction  agin  me  for  breaking  a  promise  of  mar- 
riage—and not  a  crumb  of  comfort  have  I  had 
since  I  left  the  old  hooker  until  this  present 
sitting — and  now  I'm  so  comfortable  I  could  set 
to  and  pipe  my  eye  for  an  hour  with  a  great 
deal  of  relish." 


156  JACK    A8HOBE. 

**  Your  black  list  is  full,  cbock-a-block,  my 
son,  with  many  •  griefs ;  but  man  is  born  to 
sorrow  as  the  sparks  fly  upwards.  But  listen 
to  me,  my  bo,  and  Til  comfort  you  better  than 
Job's  friends.  Take  up  your  pipe  again— that's 
the  advice  they  should  have  begun  with  with 
Job— for  no  doubt  pipes  he  had,  as  he  lived  in 
the  East.  We  will  take  the  least  sorrow  first. 
You  can  pay  the  debt,  or  you  can  go  to  law, 
and  not  pay  it — that  is  as  it  may  be—either 
way  you'll  have  to  pay  money,  which  can  be  of 
no  great  consequence  to  you — so  that's  settled 
comfortably.  Having  made  an  ass  of  yourself 
is  bad ;  but  there  are  so  many  people,  without 
your  excuses,  daily  making  greater  asses  of 
themselves,  that  you  will  soon  be  forgotten. 
Mend  the  breach  of  the  marriage  promise,  by 
marrjring  either  Mrs.  Snowdrop  or  her  daughter 
— the  daughter  for  choice— or  stand  fire  !* 

^<  But  I  never  made  a  promise  at  all  to  either 
of  them.  I  must  not  —  I  dare  not — marry 
Susan,  because  I  am  not  half  good  enough  for 
her,  and  I  really  never  was  in  love  with  her; 


JACK  ASHOBB.  157 

and  her  mother  is  too  bad  for  anybody  to  marry, 
and  too  ugly  for  anybody  to  love." 

*^  Think  agin  about  Susan/'  said  Grimm. 
'*  I  have  no  wish  to  make  a  man  of  your  great 
advantages  and  glorious  speculations  marry 
anybody ;  it  is  a  ^sponsibility  not  for  the  old 
quarter-master  to  take;  but  just  think  again 
about  Susan,  for  the  sake  of  her  poor  heart  and 
your  own.  Ill  take  a  wliiff  or  two  whilst  you 
calculate." 

^*  I  have  thought,  father,  and  it  won't  do. 
Poll  has  her  grappling-irons  too  fast  about  poor 
Jack.  Giles  Grimm^  do  you  believe  in  ghosts  ? 
Well,  I  do,  though  I  never  seed  one;  and  there 
is  only  one  I  should  be  afraid  of  if  I  did,  and 
that  would  be  Polly's  coming  exactly  at  twelve 
o'clock  on  my  wedding-night,  and  looking  all 
ghastly  and  black  in  the  face,  with  the  rope 
round  her  neck.  He  must  be  a  brave  roan 
who  could  stand  that — and  she'd  come,  I 
know,  for  she  is  so  very  parvarse — ^that  is  to 
say,  if  I  spliced  with  Susan." 

"  But  why   more  if   you   had  poor    dear 
Susan,  than  any  one  else,  my  son  ?    Not  that 


158  JACK  A8UORE. 

I    doesnH    think    your  scruples  quite  nat'ral 
like.^ 

**  'Cos  Poll  was  always  jealous  of  Sue, 
though  she  pretended  to  despise  her,  and  I 
promised  her  that  if  I  got  a  warrant,  or  any- 
thing good  turned  up  for  me,  I'd  have  only 
her.^ 

"  Well,  you've  kept  your  promise,  and  the 
keeping  of  it  has  done  for  her.  The  moment 
Jack  Ketch  cuts  her  down,  you  are  free— but 
it's  a  matter  for  yourself  only.  I  would  run 
the  risk  of  the  ghost ;  that  is  to  say,  if  so  be 
you  should  fall  in  love  with  Sue ;  but  meddling 
with  matches,  a  man  is  apt  to  burn  his  fingers, 
there  is  so  much  brimstone  in  them.  So  Fve 
done." 

'**'  Poor  Poll !  I  wonder  if  man  can  save  her  ! 
To  hang  such  a  beautiful  sample  of  a  woman — 
it's  barbarous — downright  wickedness.  I  tell 
ye  what,  father,  we  are  the  salvages  arter  all. 
When  I'm  made  a  barrownight  in  right  earnest, 
I'll  speak  to  the  king  about  it.  A  sailor's  lass 
ought  to  be  allowed  to  marry  a  few  husbands, 
more  or  less.     Sailor's  girls,  they  go  through  a 


JACK   ASHORE.  159 

great  deal  of  trouble  for  the  navy.     Hang  her  ! 
it  is  shocking  !** 

*^  It  is,  indeed,**  said  Giles,  as  he  knocked  the 
ashes  out  of  his  pipe. 


160  JACK  ASHORE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  oonvenible  chapter,  bat  it  ezpoundi  much,  and  ia  ddsemng 
of  attention— Some  bints  upon  bigamy,  and  penoillinga  by 
the  way  on  the  ase  of  the  gibbetF--A  father's  adrice  to  a 
daughter  respecting  the  marriage  state— How  to  take  advice 
advisedly,  that  is,  if  it  be  palatable. 

Giles  Grimm,  with  the  prudence  of  an  old  man- 
of-war's  man,  had  laid  an  embargo  on  the  house, 
and  declared  it  in  a  state  of  strict  blockade ; 
which  was  a  very  necessary  proceeding,  for 
every  one  in  the  neighbourhood,  not  troubled 
with  too  much  conscience,  thought  that  the 
hybrid  baronet  was  very  fair  prey. 

During  this  day,  very  many  were  the  unsuc- 
cessful knocks  at  the  door ;  and  whilst  Jack  was 


JACK    ASHORE.  l6l 

making  his  lamentations,  his  companion  not  a 
little  enjoyed  the  unsuccessful  attempts,  that 
he  could  very  distinctly  hear,  were  made  in 
the  adjoining  passage,  for  a  further  admittance. 
Thus,  when  Giles  Grimm  had  idiaken  out  the 
ashes  from  his  last  pipe—sad  emblem  of  mor- 
tality !— and  was  about  commencing  a  speech 
full  of  unction  and  pathos,  and  had  in  his 
mind  already  selected  the  quotation  from  the 
Bible  which  was  to  accompany  it,  a  very 
emphatic  salute  on  the  door  diverted  his 
thoughts. 

**  Another  Jew  beggar.  Jack.  We  must  cut 
and  run  from  this  place  as  soon  as  we  can. 
They  wonH  take,  no,  it  seems.  Just  reach  me 
that  sapling,  and  I'll  clear  the  decks.^' 

The  door  opened,  and  the  female  domestic, 
with  a  good  deal  of  hesitation,  placed  two  cards 
upon  the  table.  Giles  read  them,  and  then  he 
and  Sir  John  immediately  rose  and  ushered  into 
the  room,  with  all  due  honour.  Sir  Edward 
Fortintower  and  Mr.  Singleheart. 

Jack  so  much  felt  the  superiority  of  his 
cousin,  that  he  could  neither  be  induced  to  look 


162  JACK    ASHORE. 

upon  nor  treat  him  as  his  equal.  Every  sen- 
tence was  commenced  with  *^  Your  honour,^ 
and  he  could  not  avoid,  from  time  to  time, 
seizing  his  fore-lock,  and  bobbing  his  head, 
when  he  was  suddenly  addressed  by  him. 
The  same  was  the  case  with  Giles  Grimm ; 
but  he  still  being  dressed  cleanly  as  a  sailor, 
this  conduct  did  not  appear  so  unnatural  and 
ridiculous. 

At  first,  both  Sir  Edward  and  the  lawyer 
were  a  little  reserved ;  for,  though  they  much 
pitied,  they  could  not  help  being  angry  at 
Jack's  past  proceedings.  His  self-abasement 
was  extreme,  his  apologies  profuse,  and  his 
promises  of  amendment  numerous  and  sincere. 
He  repeated  the  lamentation  with  which  he 
had  just  favoured  Grimm,  nearly  word  for 
word — confessed  himself  a  child,  and  a  bad 
one,  and,  with  much  contrition,  asked  for 
punishment,  and  humbly  solicited  advice. 

**  You  have  made  yourself,  much  to  our 
sorrow,**  said  Sir  Edward,  ^*  a  stranger  to  us* 
This  conduct  has  brought  with  it  its  own 
punishment,  and  I  am  glad  to  see  repentance. 


JACK    ASHORE.  l63 

I  speak  plainly  to  you,  cousin,  and  I  tell  you 
firankly,  that  I  do  not  think  this  change  in  your 
position  of  life  will  be  a  change  for  you  of  hap- 
piness. Never  did  a  person  require  more  self- 
watchfulness  than  yourself.  Believe  me^  you 
are  particularly  fortunate  in  having  so  well 
escaped  from  out  of  the  difficulties  in  which 
your  follies  had  involved  you.  However,  just 
see  the  consequences,  even  now,  of  your  vaga* 
ries." 

He  then  put  into  his  hands  the  county  paper. 
Jack  was  very  leniently  treated.  It  gave  a 
tolerably  accurate  description  of  his  vagaries, 
but  good-naturedly  imputed  them  to  the  effer- 
vescence of  strong  animal  spirits,  on  the  change 
of  his  situation,  and  his  desire  to  take  leave  of 
his  old  and  commence  his  new  life  with  a  man- 
of-wai's  man's  spree.  It  instanced  many  more 
absurd  exhibitions  that  had  taken  place  among 
seamen,  on  the  acquisition  of  large  shares  of 
prize-money.  Pollys  part  of  the  article  was  the 
blackest,  for  the  writer  of  it  asked,  *^  had  this 
poor  deluded  and  continually  intoxicated  young 
man  no  friend  to  step  forward  and  to  prevent 


164  JACK    ASHORE. 

his  damning  bis  prospects  in  life  for  ever,  by 
allying  himself  with  a  common '  strumpet  P 
Where  was  his  lawyer  ?-— where  this  generous 
and  self-sacrificing  Sir  Edward  Fortintower,  of 
whom  we  have  heard  so  much  ?^ 

When  he  read  this  part  of  the  paragraph, 
the  tears  actually  came  into  Jack'*s  eyes ;  and 
then  he  fell  into  a  very  healthful  train  of 
thought.  He  reflected,  that  what  he  had  him- 
self esteemed  as  a  good  action — the  keeping  of 
his  promise  to  Poll  —  was  looked  upon  in  a 
totally  different  light  by  people  better  in- 
structed than  himself.  Loftier  notions  b^an 
to  steal  into  his  bosom,  and  he  felt  a  sensation 
of  gratitude  at  the  release  of  his  contract  with 
Polly.  This  was  not  so  romantic  a  state  of 
mind  as  the  lovers  of  melo-dramatic  sailors 
might  wish  ;  but,  as  it  was  the  true  one,  how- 
ever injurious  it  may  be  to  our  hero,  we  feel 
bound  to  record  it. 

^*  I  am  humbled,  your  honour,'*  said  Jack, 
with  his  inveterate  twitching  at  his  hair ;  **  and 
what  I  can  say  or  do,  your  honour  best 
knows.'' 


JACK    ASHOBS*  l65 

*'  I'll  tell  you,  my  friend,  what  you  are  not 
to  say,  and  what  you  are  not  to  do.  You  are 
liot  to  say,  *  your  honour,'  and  not  to  pluck  out 
all  the  hair  from  the  front  of  your  bead — par- 
ticularly now  that  you  have  very  properly 
taken  to  powder.  Let  us  now  consider  your 
present  situation.  We  advise  you  immediately 
to  settle  the  debt  which  Mrs.  Snowdrop  alleges 
that  you  owe,  with  all  the  costs  incurred.  It 
was  contracted,  though  with  roguish  motives, 
for  you ;  you  must,  without  hesitation^  take  up 
the  bill  that  Mr.  Scrivener  holds  of  this 
woman's  for  the  one  hundred  pounds  advanced 
to  you.  As  to  the  action  threatened  against 
you  for  a  breach  of  promise  of  marriage,  give 
it  no  thought,  for  we  have  a  surety  for  believ- 
ing that  it  will  turn  out  merely  a  threat.  Yes, 
and  for  this  outrageous  Poll  too,  we  may 
manage,  if  you  behave  discreetly,  to  avoid  the 
necessity  of  your  appearing,  in  person,  against 
her.  The  proof  of  her  guilt  is  quite  sufficient 
without  your  evidence.^ 

**  But  will  they  hang  her,  your  honour — Sir 
Edward,  I  mean  ?  " 


166  JACK  ASHOBE. 


(C 


They  may,  but  we  do  hope  not ;  no  doubt 
but  that  the  judges  will  take  into  consideratioD 
the  laxity  of  morals  in  a  large  sea^port  town 
like  Portsmouth.  We  will  make  interest  for 
her — ^but  she  will  be  compelled  to  leave  the 
country.  In  that  case  you  may  make  her  exile 
not  only  endurable,  but  even  advantageous  and 
pleasant  to  her.'* 

And  may  God  desert  me  if  I  do  not." 
Now,  Sir  John,  give  Mr.  Singleheart  a  list 
of  all  your  debts,  for  to>night  everything  must 
be  paid.  Come  to  my  hotel  to-morrow  morning 
in  your  seaman's  dress;  be  there  before  seven, 
and  we  will  all  go  to  town  together — ^you  and 
Mr.  Grimm  on  the  outside  of  the  Portsmouth 
coach.  We  shall  thus  avoid  observation.  When 
we  get  to  town,  you  shall  travel  in  a  manner 
more  befitting  your  rank  and  your  station.^ 

**  God  bless  your  honour — Father  Grimm, 
why  don't  you  thank  his  honour  ? — now*s  the 
time  for  one  of  your  crack-my-jaw  speeches, 
and  you've  not  a  shot  in  the  locker." 

*'  Sir  Edward  Fortintower,  we  are  much  ob- 
ligated to  you ;    but  what  rating  am  I  to  bear 


JACK    ASHOBB.  167 

on  Sir  John  Truepenny's  books  ? — ^for  I  can't 
suppose  that  I  am  to  be  hail  fellow  well  met 
with  him  in  Lunnon — and  yet  I  should  like  to 
be  near  the  boy  a  little  while,  just  to  look 
arter  him  till  he's  able  to  cast  off  the  tow- 
rope." 

**  Well  said,  honest  Grimm.  You  shall  be 
bis  matlre  ihoteV 

**  Mate  dotel — what  sort  of  mate's  that,  sir — 
chief  mate  or  what — and  what's  the  duty  ?" 

'<  The  duty  will  be  to  do  nothing  yourself, 
and  to  help  Sir  John  to  do  the  same  when  he's 
so  inclined.  Only,  in  your  place,  I  would 
not  give  the  same  privilege  to  the  rest  of  the 
household." 

'*  I  circumstand  precisely.  Please,  sir,  be 
so  kind  as  to  write  down  my  new  rating,  that 
I  may  get  it  by  heart." 

In  fumbling  for  a  piece  of  paper,  Giles,  in- 
advertently, lugged  out  of  his  jacket-pocket  a 
long  tavern  bill,  and  offered  the  blank  side  of 
it  to  Sir  Edward's  penciL  Directly  he  per* 
ceived  it,  he  was  most  anxious  to  recover  the 
document.      It  was  the   bill   for  Sir   John's 


168  JACK   ASHORE. 

wedding  dinner,  which  he  was  not  fated  to  eat, 
and  which  not  having  eaten  he  had  consequently 
forgotten. 

Every  one  was  much  astonished  at  Giles 
wishing,  nay,  entreating  to  be  at  the  expense. 
This  was  of  course  overruled,  but  it  gave 
them  all  a  very  good  opinion  of  the  old  sailor's 
disinterestedness.  The  lawyer  refunded  the 
money  to  him  with  many  expressions  of  kind- 
ness and  approbation. 

Everything  being  apparently  thus  fully 
and  satisfactorily  settled,  the  gentlemen  (we 
have  not  as  yet  permitted  ourselves  to  class 
Jack  among  them)  arose  to  take  their  leaves, 
all  parties  being  much  happier  and  more  pleased 
than  when  they  met. 

Just  as  they  were  about  to  depart,  Sir  John 
wished  to  be  informed  if  baronets  were  per- 
mitted to  smoke,  as  he  told  his  cousin  that  he 
was  determined  to  give  his  new  mode  of  life  a 
fair  trial.  He  was  told  that  it  was  a  delicate 
question,  but  that  it  need  not  now  be  solved ; 
so,  till  he  fully  took  up  his  new  character,  he 
might  with  safety  indulge  in  his  taste. 


JACK   ASHORE.  169 

*'  Now,  Sir  John,**  said  Mr.  Singleheart,  "  we 
must  get  to  town  as  speedily  as  we  can.  I  will 
not  now  attempt  to  enter  into  details  with  you. 
I  may  just  say  that  your  future  income  will 
average  about  forty  thousand  a  year — ^never 
under— often  much  more ; — that  you  will  have 
much  to  do  immediately  you  arrive  in  town — 
many  documents  to  sign  ;  and  that  you  will  have 
to  perform  some  curious  services  before  the  king 
or  his  representative,  for  certain  manors  that 
you  hold.  In  spite  of  yourself,  you  must  be- 
come a  busy  and  a  great  character.  Do  not  let 
this  alarm  you  ;  with  your  means,  it  is  much 
easier  to  become  great  than  busy— that  is,  busy 
to  any  good  purpose.  I  will  now  go  and  settle 
Mrs.  Snowdrop's  demands,  and  to-morrow  we 
shall  expect  you  both  at  our  hotel,  in  health 
and  spirits,  and  quite  prepared  for  the  journey. 
No  fuss,  you  know ;  come  as  Jack,  and  not  a 
word  yet  about  Sir  John." 

*^  Shall  obey  you,  sir.  If  you  please,  Tve 
a  small  favour  to  ask.  I  don't  like  to  part 
with  Mrs.  Snowdrop  in  ill  blood ;  let  me  go 
and  pay  her  this  money  myself;    and  I  think 

VOL.  II.  I 


170  JACK    ASHORE. 

she  ought  to  have  all  the  foolish  expenses  she 
was  put  to  in  bringing  me  ashore.** 

*'  The  feeling  does  you  honour,  Sir  John," 
said  the  lawyer ;  **  but  you  should  remember 
that,  with  your  own  money,  you  may  always 
do  what  you  like.  Now,  do  me  the  favour  to 
attend/' 

He  then  sat  down  with  paper,  pen,  and  ink, 
and  writing  everything  in  a  round  large  hand, 
almost  like  print,  he  inserted  the  several  items 
that  he  was  to  pay  her ;  he  then  sent  for  the 
necessary  receipts,  which  he  drew  out,  leaving 
nothing  to  make  them  complete  but  Mrs. 
Snowdrop's  signature,  lie  instructed  Sir  John 
to  pay  the  cash  over  in  separate  items,  to  make 
the  chances  of  mistake  the  less,  and  then  gave 
him  separate  checks  for  each  item.  Jack,  who 
wanted  only  instruction^  proved  himself  to  be 
sufficiently  acute. 

During  this  time  Sir  Edward  had  reseated 
himself,  and  cultivated  the  acquaintance  of 
Giles  assiduously.  He  likied  him  extremely, 
and  was  determined  to  keep  him,  as  long  as 
possible,  near  Sir  Johut    Everything  now  being 


JACK    A8HOHS.  171 

arrangedi  Sir  Edward  and  the  lawyer,  with 
many  hearty  shakes  of  the  hand,  bade  the  sea- 
men good  night,  and  retired  to  their  hoteL 

In  the  mean  time^  Mr.  Scrivener  had  been  a 
wary  and  an  attentive  observer  of  all  Jack's 
motions^  and  of  the  motions  of  every  one  con- 
nected with  him.    He  had  not,  as  yet,  ostensibly 
appeared  as   the   baronet's  enemy.      He  was 
glad  of  this.    So  clever  and  so  active  a  man 
did  not  fail  to  be  in  court,  though  he  kept  him- 
self  in  the  background,  during  the  examination 
and  the  committal  for  trial  of  the  unfortunate 
Polly.      Immediately   he  discovered   that  Sir 
'  John^s  marriage  was  null  and  void,  the  whole 
course  of  his  tactics  was  suddenly  and  com- 
pletely changed.    He  went  to  his  inn  with  a 
good  appetite  and  in  great  glee — a  change  in 
his  demeanour  highly  acceptable  to  his  daughter 
Eugenia  Elfrida. 

This  young  lady  had  endured  much*  Having 
placed  her  fancy  fully  and  strongly  upon  the 
handsome  sailor,  his  absurd  marriage,  after  the 
encouraging  hopes  that  her  father  had  held  out 
to  her,  had  greatly  afflicted  her.    She  had,  more- 

I  2 


172  JACK    ASHORE* 

over,  with  all  her  selfish  simplicity}  a  heart.  Her 
parent  never  went  so  deep  as  that  organ  in  his 
calculations.  Interest  and  his  advancement  in 
life — even  the  coarser  impulses  of  passion — he 
could  comprehend ;  but  as  to  the  sentiment  of 
love,  in  its  character  of  an  abiding  aiFection,  he 
believed  it  rarely  existed,  and,  least  of  all,  exist- 
ed in  his  daughter. 

After  he  had  increased  his  pleasurable  sensa- 
tions by  a  good  dinner,  and  wine  enough  to 
make  him  remember  it  with  satisfaction,  he 
began  to  converse  in  the  pleasantest  manner 
possible. 

**  Well,  Eugee,  my  girl,  take  a  glass  of 
claret — a  bumper, — ^good — ^and  now  give  papa 
a  kiss." 

**  You  are  very  merry,  pa." 

*^  I  am  ;  she  is  sure  to  be^hung." 

'^  Who,  papa?  O  la!  and  roust  I  be  merry 
too  ?  but  I  won't,  though  !" 

*'  But  you  will,  hussy,  when  you  know  who 
it  is ;  your  little  heart  will  dance  as  lightly  as 
she  will  when  she  dances  upon  nothing." 

How  shocking!      Father,  people  in    our 


«« 


JACK  ASHORE.  173 

profession  should  never  make  game  of  hanging. 
I  don't,  like  to  hear  anything  about  it ;  but  do 
tell  me  if  any  one  is  going  to  be  hung." 

"  Come,  guess,  Eugee— I'll  give  you  a  five- 
pound  note  if  you  can  guess  right  in  three 
trials." 

"  But  how  can  I  guess,  if  it  is  not  anybody 
I  know  ?' 

"  But  it  is  somebody  you  know :  now  run 
over  in  your  mind  all  the  people  you  know  that 
you  think  are  likely  to  be  hung.^ 

'^  O  my  I  what  a  compliment  to  all  our  ac- 
quaintance !^— hi,  hi,  hi !  Surely  it  can't  be — 
but  then  he  is  so  very  cunning.  Well,  my  first 
guess  is  Mr.  Zachariab  Snitch  I" 

**  God  bless  me,  girl — what  are  you  saying  ? 
— You  have  taken  away  my  breath.  My  prin- 
cipal and  confidential  clerk  !  Come,  come,  that's 
no  joke;  and  the  many  transactions  that  he  and 
I  have  been  mixed  up  together  with  I  That's 
coming  too  near  the  mark,  however  !" 

**  Is  it  pa  ? — then  he  is  likely  to  be  hung 
after  all.  I  deserve  a  guinea^  at  least,  for  that 
guess/' 


174  lAcm 


Yoo  Jljuiil  m  rod^  bbk;  vlieii  I  and 
the  narky^  I  Brant  that  jaa  came  too 
near  me  with  jour  tfllj  guumM — not  near  the 
truth,  aimplciDD ;  do  yoa  undetrtid  that  ? — TU 
not  let  70a  gnem  an j  BBOfe»  kst  70a  should 
make  more  fooiuh  mtttake&  It  is  that  flauntiii^ 
tawdrj,  impudent,  common  wendi,  Pdl  of  the 
Point,  that  was  married  yestetday  to  the  sailor 
baronet;  and  it  now  turns  out  that  he  is  not 
married  at  all,  because  his  wife,  my  lady  that 
would  be,  hasy  at  this  present  time^  two  other 
husbands  proved  to  be  living  —  how  many 
more  I  can't  say.** 

*'  Will  they  hang  the  poor  woman  for  that? — 
it*s  quite  dreadful,  father.** 

''  Oh,  I  cry  you  mercy,  sentimental  Miss 
Eugenia  Elfiida  Scrivener.  Are  the  solemn 
and  sacred  institutions  that  have  been  handed 
down  to  us  unimpaired  from  our  glorious 
ancestors^  to  be  violated,  to  be  mocked  and  set 
at  scorn  with  impunity,  by  a  low-bom  wretch 
like  that  ?  Forbid  it  decency,  forbid  it  Heaven ! 
My  bosom  swells  with  virtuous  indignation  at 
such  turpitude.  The  laws  know  no  distinction — 


JACK  ASHORE.  175 

they  are  open  to  all ;  if  she  was  tired  of  her 
first  husband,  why  did  she  not  get  a  legal 
divorce?" 

**  But  she  married  two  more — and  perhaps 
she  could  not*** 

**  I  do  not  see  the  legal  impediment.  But 
such  depravity  as  hers  deserves  death,  and 
death  she  will  suffer.  Well,  your  sweetheart, 
my  chuck,  is  again  a  free  num.'^ 

**  My  sweetheart,  pa !  How  can  you  say 
so?" 

"  Didn't  he,  for  love  of  you,  jump  into 
the  sea  ?  You  saw  it — ^hundreds  saw  it.  He 
did  this  even  when  in  the  trammels  of  the 
woman  we  are' going  to  hang.  What  a  glorious 
match  he  will  be !  '* 

^*  Ah,  father  I  some  other  Poll  will  step  in 
and  whip  him  up.  You  can't  hang  them  all — 
one  after  the  other.  Besides,  you  told  me  only 
two  days  ago^  that  he  was  a  low-lived,  vulgar 
wretch — that  such  a  marriage  would  make  me 
wretched,  and  disgrace  your  family.^ 

^*  That  was  all  perfectly  true  yesterday,  but 
not  so  to-day.    The  man  is,  of  himself,  a  fine 


I 


176  JACK    ASHORE. 

ittftTi,  and,  in  good  hands,  will  turn  out  a 
splendid  one.  It  is  a  most  merciful  dispensation 
of  Providence,  the  hanging  of  this  abandoned 
woman.  Sir  John  Truepenny's  virtues  will 
now  have  full  scope  to  unfold  themselves. 
Under  your  care  and  nurture,  and  under  mine, 
Eugenia,  his  amiable  qualities  will  blossom  into 
beauty,  and  j^ltimately  bear  glorious  fruit. 
When  he  has  been  your  husband  six  months, 
he  will  be  a  very  different  sort  of  person." 

"  Ah,  when  !*"  said  the  lady,  with  a  deep 
sigh. 

"  Soon,  very  soon,  girl !  Now  the  principal 
obstacle  is  removed,  I  see  nothing  to  hinder  us. 
When  I  have  set  my  mind  upon  an  object,  it 
must  present  much  more  difficulty  to  its  at- 
tainment than  your  marriage  with  Sir  John 
Truepenny,  before  I  will  abandon  it.  Take 
another  glass,  my  child.  Keep  up  your  spirits, 
and  I  am  much  mistaken  if  by  this  time  to- 
morrow be  is  not  sitting  very  comfortably  by 
you.     You   can   look   very   beautiful  if  you 

choose.*' 

*'  O  la  !  how  beautiful  I  will  look — may  I 
gaze  into  his  handsome  eyes  the  first  time?^ 


JACK    A8H0&E.  177 

*'  Don^t  ask  such  foolish  questions*  Look  as 
much,  and  say  as  little^  as  jou  like.  Bol  I 
must  retrace  my  steps.  Ring  the  bell^  and 
order  pens,  ink,  and  paper,  without  removing 
the  wine-''* 

In  a  very  brief  space.  Miss  Scrivener  was  ae« 
lecting  in  her  mind  the  dress  that  she  would 
appear  in  on  the  morrow,  and  her  father  was 
writing  two  letters,  the  effects  of  which,  he 
doubted  not,  would  forward  him  considerably 
in  his  long-cherished  designs. 


i6 


178  JACK  ASHOkE, 


CHAPTER  IX- 

JoBt  like  loTt,  bat  not  thtt  tender  eentiment — Jtck  tries  bit 
bend  in  eloquence  upon  bende— >Mekee  no  band  of  it^— 
More  moralitj,  and  lome  priaon  diacipHne— Mra.  Sooir- 
drop  much  in  tbe  dark  aa  night  adFancoe  A  letter,  but 
whether  it  contain  love  or  law,  time  muat  abow— Tbe  whole 
condaded  with  a  peep  into  a  priaon. 

Mrs.  Snowdbop^s  private  residenoe  was  in  a 
quiet,  decent,  by-street  of  Fortsea,  in  a  mode* 
rately-sized  house,  which  contained  all  the  com- 
forts that  could  be  desirable  for  one  in  her 
station,  and  something  beyond  it.  Everything 
about  and  within  the  habitation  was  scrupu- 
lously clean,  and,  thanks  to  the  taste  and  care 
of  Susan,  the  only  untidy  thing  ever  discover- 
able in  the  abode  of  Mrs.  Snowdrop  was  Mrs. 
Snowdrop  herself.     Though  the  house  was  ex- 


JACK   A8HOBX.  179 

tremely  convenient  and  roomy,  its  owner  had 
long  ceased  from  taking  lodgers ;  and  since  the 
death  of  her  last  pro  tempore  husband,  which 
took  place  about  five  years  previously  to  the 
time  of  our  present  narrative,  the  only  inmates 
were  the  bumboat  woman,  her  daughter,  and  a 
strong,  cleanly,  and  active  servant-maid. 

The  evening^gun  had  been  fired  from  the 
guardship  of  Spithead,  the  band  bad  ceased  to 
echo  among  the  stone  traverses  of  the  fortifica- 
tions, and  twilight  had  begun  to  temper  the 
glare  of  the  summer^s  day,  when  Sir  John 
Truepenny  timorously  knocked  at  the  door  of 
Mrs.  Snowdrop's  house.  His  heart  was  hushed 
into  respect  by  the  thought  of  the  suffering  girl 
within;  and  the  extreme  tranquillity  of  the 
place  so  contrasted  to  the  clamour  and  riot 
of  the  life  he  had  lately  led,  that,  for  a  mo- 
ment, his  mind  acknowledged  no  higher  ambi- 
tion than  to  be  the  possessor  of  such  a  resi» 
dence^  and  of  the  gentle  inmate  that  it  con- 
tained. 

After  waiting  a  considerable  time  at  the 
door,  it  was  cautiously  opened  by  the  servant- 


180  JACK   ASHOmS. 


girl,  and  his  entrance  disputed  for  some  tinne, 
for  **  Missus  had  gun  into  the  country,  and 
though  miss  was  hin,  she  was  hindeposed." 

From  this  answer,  it  was  evident  that  Betsey 
had  picked  up  some  of  the  crumbs  of  literature 
that  had  fallen  from  the  well-supplied  literary 
table  of  her  young  mistress. 

Sir  John  was  mortified,  and  to  his  many 
questions  he  got  so  much  of  intelligence  as  to 
convince  him  that  Susan  was  not  seriously  ill, 
for  she  was  at  that  moment  **  reading  aucl  cry- 
ing by  turns,  and  not  fit  to  see  nobody.^' 

Jack  persevered,  and  he  was  too  captivating 
and  too  handsome  to  entreat  long  in  vain,  al- 
though he  refused  to  give  the  girl  either  his 
name  or  business,  but  he  gave  something  quite  as 
much  to  the  purpose — a  crown*pitx^  and  a  kiss. 

The  result  was,  that  Sir  John  suddenly  found 
himself  alone  with  Susan,  in  the  little  drawing- 
room.  At  first,  owing  to  his  dress,  she  did  not 
recognise  him,  supposing  him  to  be  some  one 
connected  with  the  affair  of  her  mother's  impri- 
sonment. She  arose  with  much  trepidation,  the 
book  fell  upon  the  sofa,  she  hastily  dried  away 


JACK    ASHORE.  181 

her  team,  and  advanced  to  meet  the  unknown* 
They  were  face  to  face  before  she  recognised 
him,  and  then,  for  one  instant,  she  stood  as  if 
transfixed  with  some  mortal  pang,  and  the  next, 
uttering  a  low  shriek,  she  fdl  into  his  arms. 

Not  long  did  she  indulge  in  this  weakness. 
She  gently  disengaged  herself  from  the  sustain- 
ing bosom  that  she  loved  too  well,  and  sat  her- 
self on  the  sofa,  for  she  was  still  very  faint. 
Jack  stood  silently  before  her,  really  awed  by 
ber  presence ;  and  when  she  requested  him  to 
be  seated,  instead  of  placing  himself  beside  her, 
be  took  possession  of  the  edge  of  a  chair  in  the 
very  centre  of  the  room,  and  for  the  first  time 
commenced  making  a  serious  inspection  into 
the  state  of  the  lining  of  his  hat.  Re-assured  by 
his  timidity,  Susan  addressed  him* 

'^  Oh,  Sir  John,"  she  exclaimed,  '^  you  do 
not  act  kindly  in  coming  thus  to  see  a  poor  lone 
girl." 

^*  Upon  my  honour,  Susan  I  may  I  never  see 
port  again,*"  (Jack  forgot  he  was  not  at  sea,) 
^'  if  I  did  not  expect  to  see  your  mother  here. 
I  own  that,  at  the  door,  I  heard  she  was  in  the 


16S  JACK   ABHORE. 

ccmntry ;  but  I  had  not  the  heart  to  go  back. 
I  oome  to  make  peace  with  her»  and  to  bid  you 
good-bye,  for  I'm  going  to  London  early  tio> 
morrow  morning.^ 

«<  So  80on  r  she  said,  with  a  slight  start ; 
*^  but  it  is  much  the  best  it  should  be  so. 
Have  you  not  heard  that  my  mother  is  in 
prison?" 

^  In  prison,  Susan — here's  a  pretty  go !  I 
have  been  so  occupied  with  my  own  fooFs 
scrapes,  that,  on  honour,  I  only  heard  that  die 
was  put  in  the  watchhouse.  Tell  me  all  about 
it/' 

In  as  few  words  as  could  convey  the  infor- 
mation, Susan  explained  to  him  that  she  could 
not  be  allowed  to  be  bailed,  as  two  of  the  per- 
sons injured  in  the  riot  she  bad  originated  were 
not  yet  pronounced  out  of  danger ;  though,  from 
inquiries  she  had  made,  she  learned  that  those 
two  persons  were  walking  about  very  comfort- 
ably. She  further  told  him,  that  her  mother 
had  placed  her  affairs  unreservedly  in  the 
hands  of  Mr.  Scrivener,  and  that  she,  Susan, 
suspected  that  he  had  not  done  his  best  to  pro- 


JACK   ABHOBE.  183 

cure  her  liberation,  and  she  was  sure  that  he 
was  advising  her  mother  to  act  Tery  badly 
indeed.  On  this  subject  she  would  not  further 
explain  herself. 

^  But  I  must  leave  you  now,  Sir  John,  and 
go  to  my  mother  before  she  is  locked  up  for 
the  night  She  is  in  a  dreadful  way,  and  re- 
quires all  my  pity.  She  is  treated  well  enough 
considering  her  situation,  but  the  frame  of 
ber  mind  is  horrible.  Oh,  I  dread  to  meet 
herP 

"  Then  don't  go,  Susan.  You  are  too  deli- 
cate-built a  craft  to  stand  such  a  breeze.  Let 
me  face  her  for  you.  1*11  take  her  broadsides 
as  quietly  as  the  rock  of  Gibberhalter,  and 
when  all  her  shot's  expended,  I  dare  say  I 
shall  be  able  to  victual  her  with  something 
comfortable.  Stay  at  home,  and  111  be  back 
in  an  hour.^ 

^*  But,  John,  I  am  her  daughter ;  and  though 
I  feel  the  tie  neither  a  tender  nor  a  strict  one 
when  she  is  in  prosperity,  yet  in  prison,  friend- 
less and  half  mad,  my  heart  yearns  towards  the 
being  who  bore  me,  and  I  love  her — ^in  spite  of 
all,  I  love  her.     O  my  mother ! " 


184  JACK   ASHORE. 

"  Well,  well,  don't  cry,  there's  a  good  girl- 
swab  your  delicate  eyes  dry,  dear ;  and  go,  if  it 
is  your  duty.  But  just  give  me  the  names  of 
any  one  who  is  likely  to  become  her  bail.'* 

**  O  there  are  plenty.  Sir  John ;  here  are 
the  addresses  of  four  persons — ^and  I  could  give 
you  as  many  more.  Indeed,  people  say  that 
she  is  very  hardly  used,  and  that  you,  begging 
your  pardon,  Sir  John,  are  at  the  bottom  of  it 
all,  by  the  means  of  your  great  friends,  and 
your  lawyers.     I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it." 

**  God  bless  you  for  that,  my  dear  girl ! 
Now  go  to  your  mother.  I'd  walk  with  you, 
and  be  glad  and  proud  too — ^but,  after  all  that  is 
past,  your  carracter,  you  know,  Sue^  might  miss  | 

stays." 

**  Gtx)d  Sir  John ;    but  little  character  has  I 

my  mother's  mode  of  life  left  me. — Lord  bless 
me,  my  short  and  young  life  has  been  one  of 
continued  storm  and  misery,  ever  since  I  left 
school.    But  my  innocence  must  sustain   me, 

John,. and  there  is  one  who  loves  and  cherishes  | 

i 

innocence,  and  that  love  is  beyond  all  price." 
^*  It  is,  Susan,  and  stick  to  it  like  pitch. 


JACK  ASHO&K.  185 

Tell  your  mother  FU  see  her  to-night  if  I  can, 
and  that  111  try  to  square  yards  with  her,  and 
part  friends,  for  her  dear  daughter's  sake.^ 

<^  Do  you  know,  John,  all  that  she  has  done, 
all  that  she  wishes  to  do,  to  you  ?" 

^^  Don't  I  ?  and  so,  you  see,  so  much  the 
more  I'm  behoven  to  do  her  all  the  good  I  can 
—the  devil  may  never  turn  her  heart,  but  you 
may,  Susan*-I  wish  you  were  my  daughter, 
instead  of  hers." 

**  It  is  a  kindly  wish,  John,  but  not  mine. 
You  can  be  nothing  to  me  now — not  even  my 
friend.  I  have  been  very  foolish,  and,  what  is 
still  worse,  I  cannot  feel  sorry  for  my  folly.  I 
have  not  been  so  good  as  I  ought  to  have  been, 
but  oh,  how  much  better  than  my  mother  would 
have  made  me!" 

"  I  tell  ye  what  it  is,  Sue,  so  yotfU  attend  to 
a  plain  sailor'^s  plain  speech.  I  take  it  cursedly 
amiss  that  you  say  we  are  not  any  more  to  be 
friends ;  but  that's  some  of  your  rumstick  stuff 
— for  let  all  go  to  blue  blazes,  if  I  know  whe- 
ther I  am  standing  upon  my  head  or  my  elbow. 
I'll  be  more  than  a  father  to  ye.     Let  that  pass 


186  JACK   ASHORB. 

at  this  present  Now,  mark  ye  me,  if  any  one 
says  you  are  not  good,  and  not  vartuoas,  I'll 
punch  the  liar's  head  while  I  can  stand — even  if 
I  were  twenty  times  a  barrownight  Now,  Sue, 
trip  off  with  your  pretty  little  pit-a-pat  feet^ 
and  if  you  could  get  a  little  colour  in  your 
cream-white  face,  why.  Jack's  heart  would  be 
lighten  for  it,  that's  all.  I  won't  go  with  you, 
you  knows  why — and  that's  why,  t(X>,  I  won't 
kiss  you ;  but  shaking  hands,  you  know,  Sue, 
ain't  stoppered  at  all.  Bless  my  eyes,  and  so 
you  call  this  tiny  little  piece  of  wax-work  a 
hand — I  could  stow  away  a  dozen  of  'em  in  my 
flipper — ^and  how  soft !  Well,  well,  if  I  ever  felt 
anything  like  it,  I^m  jammed — but  it^s  won- 
drous pretty  sartainly — take  it  away,  you  witch, 
for  it  has  sent  a  twitching  right  up  my  arm ; 
not  only  to  my  shoulder,  but  across  my  breast 
too.  Now  go,  and  please  God  I'll  be  with  you 
and  your  beetle-browed  mammy  before  another 
hour." 

Susan  departed,  leaving  Sir  John  in  a  brown 
study  upon  the  nature  of  hands,  and  not  at  all 
aware  of  their  intimate  connexion  with  hearts. 


JACK   ASHOBB.  187 

'*  It  is  surely  a  channing  piece  of  Grod's  handi-* 
work,  that  liand ;  and  I  never  noticed  it  before. 
My  fist  and  my  fives  make  a  wonderful  spread, 
and  the  ends  of  my  fingers  are  as  stumpy  and  as 
hard  as  pieces  of  old  junk — ^really  I  can't  say 
that  they  otv  handsome^  and  I  think  111  be 
obligated  to  run  a  few  knots  under  sail,  before 
I  shall  be  able  to  find  a  pair  of  kids  to  wedge 
'em  into.  Susan^s  hand  has  made  me  ashamed 
of  my  paws,  now,  for  ever  and  a  day.  I  'spose 
hers  are  just  such  hands  as  angels  ship-— 
flippers  only  made  to  smooth  down  the  feathers 
of  their  wings  of  glory,  and  the  sunshine  of 
their  bright  hair.  But  Poll,  poor  Poll  I  she's 
got  a  hand  worth  three  of  it — that  is  for  dze^ 
and  washing  a  shirt,  and  giving  a  fellow  a  clout 
on  the  head— and  that  last  a  married  man^s  as 
well  without.  I  say  it  who  knows  it*  But 
Sue^s  tiny  little  hand  is  just  fit  to  take  a  cobweb 
of  a  handkerchief  and  wipe  a  man's  forehead 
when  he's  a  weary,  or  to  pat  him  on  the  cheek 
when  he  is  happy.  I  should  like  to  have  its 
velvetty  softness  placed  over  my  heart  just  for 
a  minute,  that  she  may  feel  how  it  would  beat 


188  JACK    ASHORE. 

under  it.  But  she  k  far  enough  off  now,  and  I 
'spose  I  may  make  sail  on  my  own  course, 
without  the  tattling  poison-dropping  tongues 
saying  that  I  consorted  with  her  in  the  even- 
mg. 

Jack,  having  finished  this  soliloquy,  which 
he  really  spoke  aloud  as  he  paced  up  and  down 
the  room,  went  about  bis  business. 

Let  us  retrograde  a  couple  of  hours,  and 
visit  Mrs.  Snowdrop  in  her  confinement.  Hav- 
ing put  on  the  semblance  of  a  better  temper, 
she  was  removed  to  a  more  commodious  apart- 
ment, but  it  still  bore  all  the  dreary  aspect  of 
a  prison.  It  was  badly  ventilated,  and  that  first 
of  blessings,  light,  was  almost  made  hateful  to 
her,  by  having  to  struggle  through  the  iron 
bars  of  a  single  window.  The  floor  was  paved 
with  stone,  and  the  little  furniture  that  the 
room  contained  was  of  the  most  sordid  descrip- 
tion. These,  of  themselves,  were  but  petty 
annoyances,  to  which  the  bumboat  woman  would 
have  scarcely  given  a  thought,  bad  they  not 
all  been  associated  with  the  idea  of  restraint. 
To  hardships  she  had  been  accustomed  from 


J 


JACK    A8H0KE.  189 

her  infancy,  and  perhaps  few  persons  less  re- 
garded physical  suiFering.  But  the  deprivation 
of  liberty  was  wormwood  and  gall  to  her.  She 
would  sit  from  daylight  to  dark,  in  the  most 
horrible  weather,  in  her  open  boat,  in  the  open 
sea,  without  repining.  She  had  more  space  for 
motion  now,  but  it  was  in  a  prison,  and  she  was 
in  agony.  And  she  was  so  weary  too.  Even 
imprecations  aiForded  her  no  relief. 

The  gloom  in  her  apartment  was  as  profound 
again  as  that  of  an  ordinary  room,  as  the  twi- 
light began  to  deepen,  and  she  became  impa- 
tient. She  flung  her  heavy  frame,  in  despair, 
upon  her  iron  bedstead  ;  it  gave  her  no  relief, 
and,  with  a  curse,  she  began  shouting  for  one  of 
the  turnkeys.  He  made  his  appearance  imme* 
diately,  and  knowing  well  her  capabilities  of 
rewarding  him,  he  was  always  surlily  civil  to 
her. 

''  Is  that  wretch  of  a  daughter  of  mine  come 
yet?^ 

*♦  No,  Mrs.  Snowdrop  She  won't  be  here 
this  half  hour." 

**  This  half  hour,  you — you — you  key-turn- 


190  JACK  ASHOftB. 

ing  scoundrel !  Why  do  you  say  it  will  be  a 
half  hour  first  ?  may  the  grass  be  on  your  grave 
soon  I" 

^*  Fair  words,  fair  words,  if  you  please^  good 
Mrs.  Snowdrop.  You  told  the  young  lady 
herself,  though  she  begged  with  tears  in  her 
eyes  to  stay  with  you,  not  to  come  till  eight 
o'clock.  Shall  I  tell  you  the  very  words  that 
you  used?" 

"  Do  if  you  dare^" 

'*  They  was  cruel  ones ;   they  was  indeed. 


missus.'' 


^'  Cruel  I  I  want  to  know  who  in  this  grind- 
ing  world  is  kind.  I  don't  know  of  one  in  the 
whole  world  but  myself.  Have  I  not  been 
kind  to  Susan,  very  ?  Given  her  the  best  of 
heddications,  and  never  intended  that  she  should 
have  put  her  hand  to  work  whilst  she  lived. 
And  she  hasn't,  except  when  she  liked  it  herself. 
And  when  she  ran  after  her  fancy  man,  I  didn't 
much  mind  that ;  but  her  romantic  stuff  made 
me  sick.  The  man  was  well  enough — and  when 
he  turned  out  to  be  a  barrennit,  how  I  daved 
for  both  of  ^em  !  hand  and  heart,  labour,  care 


JACK   ASHOEE.  191 

and  money,  did  I  spare  them?  Ungrateful 
beasts  that  they  are!  then  he,  poor  fool,  to 
take  up  with  a  gaudy  painted  trollop — a  trol- 
lop— faugh  !  and  she  to  quietly  cross  her  arms 
and  say,  '  All  is  for  the  best,  mother."  I'll 
best  them  yet.*^ 

*^  I  could  tell  you  summut,  Mrs.  Snowdrop, 
that  would  make  your  heart  dance  with  joy, 
but  I  won't  unless  you  promise  to  behave  kind* 
ly  like  to  miss  when  she  comes*^ 

**  Out  upon  you,  you  reptile  I  who  gave  you 
leave  to  make  terms  with  your  betters?  Don't 
you  make  me  pay,  like  Jews  as  you  are,  fur  my 
pitiful  accommodation,  and  I  am  to  be  insulted 
into  the  bargain  ?  Out  of  my  sight !  Thank 
God,  I  have  still  one  friend  left" 

The  vituperated  turnkey  withdrew,  saying, 
^^  A  wilful  woman — she  is  distraught,  and  that's 
the  best  that  can  be  said  of  her.^ 

^*  Yes,"  continued  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  when  she 
again  found  herself  alone,  *'  I  have  one  friend 
left ;  a  real  one — a  clever,  sensible,  smooth- 
speaking  man  is  Mr.  Scrivener ;  but  not  for  his 
cleverness,  not  for  his  good  sense,  not  for  his 


192  JACK   ASHORE. 


kind  words — and  God  knows,just  now,  I  want 
kind  words  enough — is  be  my  friend  ;  but  be- 
cause he  will  assist  me  to  be  revenged  upon 
that  sot  who  despises  me  and  my  dauj^hter. 
O  that  that  daughter  had  but  a  little  of  my 
spirit !  Good  Mr.  Scrivener,  who  feels  for  me, 
says  that  she  must  swear  that  he  made  her  some 
promise  of  marriage,  or  that  he  ruined  her ;  and 
the  hard-hearted  wretch,  who  does  not  feel  for 
me,  will  neither  swear  to  one  or  the  other.     1^11 

make  her,  by  G ,  for  one  or  the  other  he 

must  have  done.  Why  did  she  leave  her 
happy,  plentiful  home,  and  her  fond,  indulgent 
mother,  for  all  the  hardships  of  a  lower-deck, 
if  he  did  not  promise  her  something  ?  I  can't 
comprehend  it.  What  can  her  books  have  put 
into  her  head?  The  girl,  though  pale  and 
slight,  is  likely  enough.  I  never  did  reproach 
her,  I  never  should  have  reproached  her  for 
being  no  better  than  she  should  be  with  the 
men — with  her  prospects,  she  has  a  right  to  do 
as  she  likes,  just  as  her  mother  did  before  her ; 
but  then,  arter  all,  to  stick  herself  up  for  inno- 
cence and  vartue — it  is  too  bad — and  not  to 


JACK  A8H0EE.  108 

join  ipe  iD  helping  to  have  my  spite  out  against 
that  Jack  barrennit,  is  worsen  ten  thousand 
times  worse.  There's  no  duty  in  the  world 
now.  Eyerything  is  going  to  sixes  and  sevens. 
I  dare  say,  if  she  has  a  child  by  the  caseal, 
which  is  likely  enough,  she  won't  swear  it  to 
him,  not  she,  because  she  has  not  lost  her  inno- 
cence. Faugh  I  what  right  has  she  to  pretend 
to  more  virtue  than  her  mother  ? — not  that  any 
one  can  say  that  I  am  not  an  honest  woman. 
I  was  always  true  to  my  husband  for  the  time 
being ;  and  to  be  constant  to  one  man  at  a  time 
is  as  much  as  can  be  expected  of  any  female — 
at  least  in  a  sea-port  town.'^ 

It  was  thus  that  this  unhappy  woman,  in 
her  obscured  views  of  morality,  continued  in- 
creasing her  misery,  and  '^  nursing  her  anger 
to  keep  it  warm*^  When  she  found  the  excess 
of  her  rage  really  inconvenient  to  her,  she 
turned  for  consolation  to  her  newly»acquired 
friend,  Mr.  Scrivener.  ^*  Yes,"  she  exclaimed, 
*^  he  will  help  me  to  my  revenge-^he  will  not 
see  a  lone  woman  like  me  wronged  and  insulted 

VOL.  II.  x 


194  JACK   ASHORE. 

— but  he  might  have  got  me  bailed  by  this 
time.  Noi  no  I  I  wrong  him,  and  that  I 
will  never  do.  It  is  a  burning  shame  to  lock 
me  up  here,  because  fools  broke  each  other's 
skulls.  I  only  flung  rotten  eggs,  mud,  dead 
cats,  and  other  harmless  things.  Talk,  after 
that,  of  the  liberty  of  the  subject !  if  one 
mayn't  fling  dead  flesh  at  a  piece  of  vamped  up, 
painted  carrion  like  my  Lady  Truepenny — a  pre- 
cious lady  I — when  she  found  her  own  pillory  to 
stand  in  gratis,  and  for  nothing !  whereas  the 
rights  of  a  free-bom  Englishwoman?  Mr, 
Scrivener,  my  friend,  where  are  you?  you 
should  have  been  here,  according  to  promise, 
an  hour  ago ;  but  I  dare  say  that  you  are  doing 
your  best  for  me  I " 

The  door  opened,  and  the  turnkey,  with  a 
grin  on  his  face,  and  a  letter  in  his  hand,  en- 
tered. At  the  same  time,  a  figure  stepped  past 
him,  and  went  and  sate  itself  down  on  the 
bed  in  the  darkest  comer  of  the  room.  Mrs. 
Snowdrop  rushed  forward  too  eagerly  to  ob- 
serve   this,   and    seizing    the    letter,  actually 


JACK  ASBORK.  195 

pushed  the  man  out  of  the  room,  and  placing 
herself  directly  under  the  fast-waning  light, 
commenced  to  read  it 

Her  broad  and  swarthy  features,  through 
the  darkness  of  which  the  red  of  health  glowed 
on  her  cheek«>bone%  her  heavy'  and  yet  active 
frame,  her  wide  chest,  and  her  ill-supported 
and  redundant  bust,  showed  her  to  be  at  once 
strong  and  slatternly.  Her  eyes  and  hair  were 
of  gipsy  blackness,  and  her  dirty  cap  was 
huddled  up  on  one  side  of  her  head.  Notwith- 
standing all  this,  there  was  something  like  regu- 
larity in  her  features,  and  great  shrewdness  in 
their  combined  expression.  Her  countenance 
formed  a  dark  but  significant  volume,  in  which 
all  the  passions  were  traced  in  the  strongest 
colours.  The  book  was  now  fully  displayed, 
and,  believing  herself  alone,  there  was  not  a 
page  of  it  that  she  attempted  to  conceal.  Her 
transition  from  curiosity,  through  various  con« 
tending  emotions,  until  she  reached  frantic  rage, 
was  gradual,  awful,  and  almost  grand.  The 
tragic  look  of  the  curse-denouncing  priestess 

x2 


196  JACK   A8HOBK. 

was  there,  though  the  language  of  the  tragic 
Muse  was  wanting. 

With  a  look  of  pleasure  she  unfolded  the 
paper,  and  began  to  devour  its  contents,  with 
that  leisurely  gratification  with  which  an  epi- 
cure would  sit  down  to  a  favourite  dish.  She 
read  aloud,  and  made  her  reflections  as  she 
read. 

(c  c  My  dear  madam  !'  (Sweet,  good  gentle- 
man !  it  is  your  true  gentleman  only  that 
knows  how  to  pay  a  respectable  person,  a 
householder  and  a  fundholder,  prop^  respect.) 
<  Before  this  I  should  have  done  myself  the 
honour  of  kissing  your  hands,* — (kiss  my  hands  T 
said  she,  surveying  the  monstrosities,  which 
were  only  a  little  less,  and  a  great  deal  blacker, 
than  Jack^s,  our  resplendent  hero's ;  **  kiss  my 
hands!  well,  that's  civil;  but  one  can't  very 
well  keep  them  so  nice  here  as  could  be  wished. 
I  am  sure  he  might  kiss  my  lips,  and  welcome. 
Hoity,  toity !  we  are  not  so  old  yet — not  five- 
and-thirty,  as  I'm  honest-*and  he's  a  widower, 
and  can't  be  fifty  yet.     Perhaps  he's  heard  of 


JACK   ASHORE.  197 

my  three  per  cents,  and  bank  stock.  I  should 
like  to  see  myself  sprucely  dressed— and  so 
would  he,  I  reckon*  If  I  were  laced  up  like 
Susan,  or  'dizened  out  like  that  infamous  Poll, 
I  don*t  think  I  should  know  myself — &ct — but 
sitting  down  in  a  boat  amoiig  legs  of  mutton, 
soft  tack,  cabbages,  turnips,  and  potatoes,  for 
twelve  hours  on  a  stretch,  is  not  good  for  the 
lower  part  of  the  figure,  and  makes  me  look 
rather  squabby.  But  I  can  leave  off  bumming 
whenever  I  Hke,  and  perhaps  if  I  was,  I  might 
grow  back  to  be  little  again.  Let  us  see  what 
the  dear  man  says  besides;  it  is  a  real  treat  to 
read  his  billy-do« — such  a  fine  plain  hand  in 
the  bargain  !)-«*  of  kissing  your  hands ;  but  a 
deep  consideration  of  your  interest  has  alone 
stayed  my  too  willing  steps.*  (Kind  soulJ  but 
he  need  not  have  stood  upon  so  much  ceremony.) 
*  This  consideration  has  led  me  seriously  to  re- 
flect upon  our  mutual  position  as  legal  adviser 
and  client.'  (Client— what'*  a  client  ?  Think 
I  know,  but  not  sure — wish  Susan  was  here — 
client  must  mean  something  very  good,  or  he 
would  not  call  me  one.)     '  But  that  tie,  my 


198  JACK   ASHORE. 

dear  madam,  it  is  my  painful  duty  to  acquaint 
youy  we  must  sever  for  ever.*  (Well,  never 
mind,  there^s  no  occasion  for  any  severity  about 
it — ^let  that  tie  go— ^there's  many  a  better- 
daughter  will  talk  by  the  hour  about  ties — ties 
of  love,  ties  of  friendship^  ties  of  matrimony — 
that's  the  right  tie  after  all ;  and  your  jolly  tar 
has  his  ties  too — ^his  long  ties,  short  ties,  and 
topsail  ties ;  but  all  these  ties  may  be  broken ; 
but  there's  only  one  tie  that  I  know  of  that  will 
last  man  or  woman  their  lives,  and  that^s  Jack 
Ketch's — ^that  I  should  think  of  dear  Mr. 
Scrivener  and  that  particular  tie  at  the  same 
time  is  so  odd — ^but  light  hearts  have  light 
fancies.  Let  us  read  on.)  *  My  honour,  my 
conscience,  and  the  purity  of  my. intentions,^ — 
(purity  of  intentions  is  good,  I  like  that,) — *  have 
caused  me  to  take  a  calm  review  of  our  compli- 
cated positions,  firstly,  as  regarded  between 
you  and  me;  secondly,  as  between  my  old  and 
respected  friend,  Sir  John  Truepenny,  and  my- 
self; thirdly,  as  between  that  excellent  baronet 
and  yourself;  and,  fourthly,  as  between  the  com- 
plicated relations  of  all  of  us,  taken  singly  and 
collectively.'" 


JACK   ASHORE.  199 

When  Mrs.  Snowdrop  had  read  this  para- 
graph quite  through  twice,  her  features  be- 
came rigid,  and  her  brow  darkened.  **  <  £x- 
ceUent,  old,  respected  friend!'  Can  he  mean 
that  filthy  Jack  ?  Why,  he  does,  indeed !  Am 
I  really  alive — ^if  living,  am  I  not  mad?  It 
was  but  this  morning  that  no  abuse  was  bad 
enough  for  him.  As  to  his  firstlys,  and  se- 
condlys,  and  other  gammim,  it's  all  Hebrew 
Greek  to  me.  On  my  conscience  I  bdieve  he's 
a  rogue  at  bottom.  I  am  a  miserable  deserted 
woman  I  What  next  does  the  cut-purse  say  ? 
*  If  you  will  weigh  all  these  considerations  so 
maturely  as  I  have  done,  you  will  rejoice  to 
find  that  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it 
would  be  highly  indecorous,  on  my  part,  to  act 
hostilely  against  a  man  who  must  look  upon 
me  as  his  best  and  first  friend,  seeing  that  it 
was  I  who  originated  and  brought  to  a  happy 
maturity  that  train  of  evidence  which  has  ter- 
minated in  the  establishment  of  the  undoubted 
heir  in  his  rightful  rank  and  fortune.'  Here^s 
treachery  !  the  scarlet  cheat  knew  all  this,  this 
morning.     Let's  see  some  more.    '  Therefore, 


200  JACK  ASHORE. 

I  must  most  respectfully  decline  any  further 
communication  with  you,  lest  it  should  give 
oflTence  to  Sir  John.*  (Is  it  come  to  this — ^to 
this  ?)  ^  I  would  not  go  so  far  as  to  advise  you 
to.  drop  proceedings  against  that  distinguished 
individual — in  conscience,  I  cannot  persuade 
any  person  from  going  to  law — but  it  must  be 
distinctly  understood,  that,  in  deference  to  Sir 
John,  I  can  have  nothing  further  to  do  in  this 
business.  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  the  attorneys 
ill  this  plac^  Messrs.  Totterclaw  and  Clubfoot, 
will  do  your  causes  ample  justice.  And  now, 
madam,  as  we  are  to  conclude  all  transactions 
with  each  other,  it  will  be  incumbent  on  you  to 
settle  the  little  account  between  us,  of  nineteen 
pounds  and  a  fraction  due  to  me,  as  per  bill 
enclosed,  for  various  legal  services ;  therefore, 
I  will  trouble  you  to  hand  me  forthwith  twenty 
pounds,  which  you  perceive  will  be  the  exact 
sum,  charging  thirteen  shillings  and  fourpenoe 
for  this  letter. 

'  I  am,  madam, 

*  Your  obedient  servant, 

*  Simon  Scbivekeb.* 


lACX   ASHORE.  201 

**  *  P.S.  In  the  matter  of  procuring  your  re- 
lease by  bail,  it  would  be  highly  improper  for 
me  to  take  any  steps  as  your  further  imprison- 
ment may  be  agreeable  to  Sir  John  Truepenny, 
as  it  will  secure  him  from  any  future  outrage 
on  his  person,  and  from  the  annoyance  of  low 
abuse.'  * 

The  latter  part  of  this  letter  Mrs.  Snowdrop 
read  with  eager  rapidity,  and  then  the  burst  of 
her  rage  was  terrible.  She  loved  her  money 
dearly;  and,  in  this  document,  she  contem- 
plated the  loss  of  some  hundreds  of  pounds^  and 
the  completest  triumph  for  the  man  she  was  so 
unjust  as  to  consider  her  enemy.  The  rage  of  a 
peer  of  the  realm  is  held  to  be  interesting,  at 
least  in  a  book, — that  of  a  prince  of  the  blood 
is  to  be  watched  with  eagerness,  and  its  out- 
breaks to  be  listened  to  attentively — but  when 
majesty  begins  to  be  in  a  passion,  how  awful  is 
the  contemplation  of  its  eccentricities  I  But,  in 
the  eye  of  the  truly  philosophical  observer, 
human  souls  §nd  human  rage  are  equal; 
at  all    events,  the   short   madness    of   anger 

x5 


202  JACK   ASHORE. 

is  wonderfully  the  same,  in  its  outward  aspect, 
in  all  persons;  and  for  choice,  for  power 
of  expression,  and  for  natural  energy,  the 
fury  of  the  bumboat  woman  is  preferable  to  the 
more  regulated  rage  of  the  prime  minister. 
We  well  know  which  is  the  lowest  and  the 
most  vulgar*  The  bumboat  woman  may  rise 
into  nature,  and  approach  sublimity,  in  the  ex- 
pression of  her  irritated  soul ;  but  the  great 
ones  of  the  earth,  when  they  lose  themselves 
in  anger  and  cease  to  surround  themselves  by  the 
affectations  of  their  position,  are  despicably  little 
and  wretchedly  vulgar. 

Mrs.  Snowdrop  tore  her  hair:  king  David 
could  do  no  more.  She  cursed  her  enemy 
deeply,  bitterly,  and  in  language  stringent  and 
metaphorical :  the  curses  of  some  of  the  sove- 
reigns of  Judah  may  have  been  more  rancorous, 
but  they  were  not  more  grand.  This  same  curs- 
ing is  certainly  a  great  relief  to  misery,  and,  as 
such,  is  not  to  be  despised.  It  is,  moreover,  of  the 
highest  antiquity,  having  been  with  man  from  the 
beginning.  It  is  wicked,  for  it  came  in  the  world 
with  sin ;  and,  generally,  it  is  very  offensive  to  be 


JACK   A8H0EE.  203 

witnessed.  We  shall,  therefore,  pass  in  silence 
the  wilder  paroxysms  of  this  woman's  rage, 
and  view  her  in  the  moments  when  the  sense  of 
her  desolation  came  black  and  horrible  upon 
her. 

Immediately  the  stoniest  heart  looks  about 
for  pity,  it  begins  to  soften.  It  would  then 
fain  spare  a  little,  in  order  that  it  might 
itself  be  spared.  It  is  then  not  absolutely 
selfish,  for  it  has  made  the  unwilling  dis- 
covery that  something  beyond  self  is  neces- 
sary to  it 

'*  I  am  tortured  beyond  my  power  to  bear — 
those  that  oppress  me  are  strong— they  have 
the  iron  hand  and  the  willing  heart — they  are 
above,  and  how  much  stronger  than  me,  mise- 
rable poor  woman  that  I  am  I  I  have  none  to 
protect  me— none  to  side  with  me — lone,  lone, 
lonely — very  lonely  indeed  I  am.  This  villan- 
ous  lawyer  should  be  murdered — cut  off  from 
the  pleasant  earth  totally — ^he  makes  misery,  and 
then  mocks  at  it.  Can  the  devil  do  worse  ? 
I  have  been  fed,  mind  and  body,  upon  coarse 
food,  yet  can  I  feel  injury,  and  insult  goes  to 


204  JACK   ASUOBK. 

mj  bones*  I  am  a  poor  lone  wretch — I  know 
it — I  know  it.  I  have  no  grand  name  for 
dirty  doings — I  know  not  how  to  varnish  a 
filthy  act  by  a  sounding  title.  A  gentleman 
cuts  his  enemy's  throat,  or  drills  him  to  death 
by  a  pistol- ball — I  pelt  mine  with  a  few  eggs; 
bis  murder  is  an  honourable  satisfaction,  and 
my  act  a  low  outrage.  But  I  am  forsaken 
utterly,  utterly— no  friends — no  upholders.  I 
once  had  a  daughter,  but  she  has  gone  over  to  the 
enemy.  I  would  kneel  down  and  curse  her  too^ 
only  I  remember  when  she  was  a  wee  little 
puny  thing,  and  I  cannot.^ 

**  I  bless  you  for  that  word,  my  dear,  dear 
mother  !'^  said  Susan,  coming  forward  in  the 
gloom,  and  flinging  her  arms  about  Mrs. 
Snowdrop's  neck. 

"  Uncoil  yourself  from  me^  viper  T' 

**  No  viper,  dear  mother,  but  a  loving,  de- 
voted daughter.  Your  heart  is  still  with  me — 
you  cannot  deny  it.^' 

"And  dutiful?" 

"  O  yes !  and  dutifuL  Teach  me  your 
dangerous  business,  mother — ^no  stormy  weather 


JACK    ASHORE.  205 

shall  ever  make  me  shrink  from  the  sea — ^no 
cold  deter  me  from  going  out — no  rude  inso- 
lence shall  make  me  neglect  your  interests. 
Stay  at  home — enjoy  your  ease — any  sacrifice 
you  can  ask  of  me,  any  task,  any  labour  you 
can  impose  upon  me — all,  ally  I  will  eagerly, 
joyfully  do ;  but  I  will  not  swear  that  John 
Truepenny  ever  promised  me  marriage,  or  that 
he  or  any  other  man  ever  took  an  improper 
liberty  with  me." 

'*  These  are  fine  words,  miss !  As  to  the 
labour  that  you  would  so  kindly  take  off  my 
hands,  I  can't  but  say  but  that  I  thank  you 
for  the  feeling — that's  fact ;  but  if  it  is  not 
always  a  pleasure  to  me^  it  is  a  want  that  I 
should  not  be  happy  without,  I'm  so  used  to  it. 
But  all  this  gammon  about  you  and  Jack — who 
ever  heard  of  a  giri  going  off  to  a  young 
fellow  on  board  a  man-of-war,  merely  to  pre- 
sarve  her  vartue,  and  talk  long  yams  out  of 
books  about  it?  Nonsense,  nonsense  I  if  you 
have  made  a  slip  or  two,  I  am,  Sue,  just  the 
mother  that'll  stand  by  you — for  I  know  what 
it  is  to  be  a  woman,  and,  as  a  fond  woman,  what 


206  JACK   ASHORE. 

it  is  to  be  tried.  Do  you  the  same  by  me 
as  I  do  by  you — ^be  honest  and  candid — 
assist  me  to  work  out  my  spite  against  this 
upstart  tarpaulin  that  has  treated  us  both  so 
scurvily.** 

"  Do  you  know,  dear  mother,  that  there  is 
much}  very  much,  of  love  and  kindness  in  all 
that  you  have  said,  though  you  wish  to  believe 
that  I  am  infamous.  God  knows,  that  after 
the  imprudent,  the  very  wicked  step  that  I 
have  taken,  I  haVe  no  right  to  stand  upon  cha- 
racter— it  is  gone*  It  is  a  dreadful  punishment, 
but  I  have  fully  deserved  it«  My  only  conso- 
lation lies  in  this,  that  I  am  not  only  innocent 
in  act,  but  also  in  intention.  I  had  read  of 
princesses  following  their  lovers  disguised  as 
pages— my  judgment  then  had  not  been  sharp- 
ened by  misery — and,  if  there  is  any  truth  in 
woman,  believe  me,  mother,  that  I  went  on 
board  to  John,  not  to  be  his  paramour,  but  his 
servant  and  his  slave.  To  me,  when  he  saved 
my  life,  he  appeared  so  grand,  so  beautiful ! 
As  I  floated  out  to  sea  among  the  bubbling 
waves,  how  bravely  he  flung  them  aside — ^he 


JACK  ASHORE.  207 

rode,  them  as  a  master  spirit  would  a  wild 
horse — ^he  shook  the  spray  from  his  curling 
locks  so  majestically  I  and  shall  I  ever  forget 
his  look  of  hope  and  cheerfulness,  as  he  placed 
his  left  hand  under  me^  and  said,  *  Don't  be 
frightened,  pretty  maid  !  Nothing  but  a  duck- 
ing ;  only  keep  your  head  up  and  look  at  me. 
That's  a  brave  girl  I  You  are  the  only  good- 
looking  mermaid  I  ever  dapt  my  ogles  on.' 
Mean  words  these,  mother,  I  know,  to  treasure 
up  and  to  doat  upon.  Shall  I  ever  forget 
them  ?  never — never — ^never  I  They  come  into 
my  mind  whenever  I  am  alone,  and  I  fancy  I 
hear  them  amidst  the  laugh  of  festivity.  How 
often  are  my  dreams  made  blessed  by  them ! 
In  health  they  are  my  joy — in  sickness  they 
shall  be  my  solace ;  and  if  they  are  but  upon 
my  lips  on  my  deathbed,  I  shall  die  happy  ^ 
these  mean,  vulgar  words  !*' 

^*  Daughter,  you  are  far  gone.  You  love  this 
Jack  barrownight  !** 

'^  I  do,  indeed,  mother,  fondly— with  a  zeal, 
with  an  adoration  that  belongs  as  much  to  re- 
ligion as  to  love.    He^s  a  noble  creature,  mo- 


208  JACK    A8HOBE. 

ther-*a  very  noble  spirit ;  and,  as  yet,  he  does 
not  know  it.  Shall  I  plot  to  injure  him  ?  1 
have  but  little  to  offer  you,  mother — my  life  is 
but  little  worth,  and  my  soul  I  cannot  give 
you — ^but  I  would  freely  part  with  the  one,  and 
almost  peril  the  other,  to  turn  your  heart  to- 
wards him— to  cause  you  to  look  upon  him 
with  kindness.* 

*^  He  wishes  to  defraud  m*e  of  much  money. 
Let  him  do  me  justice^  and  I  will  forgive 
him!'* 

^*  Defraud  you,  mother !  how  little  do  you 
know  him  !  He  has  seen  me — this  glorious 
being  has  seen  me— he  came  to  our  house  in 
order  to  make  friends  with  you,  for  he  knew 
not  of  your  imprisonment  O !  how  kindly  he 
spoke  of  you  P 

"  Did  he  ?  Perhaps— I  say  only  perhaps — I 
have  thought  too  hardly  of  him,  for  that  she 
dragon,  that  painted  Poll,  is  most  to  blame. 
How  did  the  poor  noodle  get  away  so  soon 
from  his  modest  and  blushing  bride  ?'' 

<<  Oh,  mother,  that  woman  is  no  bride  of 
his.    Poor  creature !    she  is  now  confined  in 


JACK   ASHORB.  209 

the  county  jail  to  take  her  trial  for  her  life,  for 
baying  married  two  husbands  before  she  went 
to  the  altar  with  John ;  and  it  is  certain  that  a 
disgraceful  death  will  be  her  doom  !** 

Until  this  moment  the  daughter  had  sat  near 
the  mother,  her  caresses  half  repulsed  and  half 
permitted.  But  when  the  mother  heard  this 
announcement,  she  started  from  her  chair,  and, 
with  a  ferocious  triumph  in  her  eye,  she  shook 
Susan  savagely,  placing  her  heavy  and  strong 
hands  upon  her  shoulders,  and,  with  a  strange 
noise  between  shouting  and  laughter,  she  ex. 
claimed, 

*'  Daughter,  is  this  true  ?  Only  say  it 
again,  and  say  that  it  is  true,  and  I  will  forgive 
you,  I  will  bless  you  P 

**  Ah,  my  mother/'  said  the  poor  girl,  her 
tears  flowing  freely,  ^*  it  is  only  too  true."^ 

*^  God,  I  thank  thee !  now  am  I  revenged  I 
But  I  will  taste  a  sweeter  morsel  yet.  If  it 
cost  me  a  hundred  guineas,  I  will  get  close  to 
her  at  her  last  moment,  and  mock  her  in  her 
agony/' 


210  JACK   A8HOBE. 

'*  Mother,  this  is  dreadful  —  it  is  impious  ! 
She  is  in  the  hands  of  her  country,  and  shortly 
will  be  before  the  tribunal  of  her  Grod.  She  will 
die  the  death  of  a  felon  by  the  law  of  her  fdlow- 
creatures,  and  yet  her  God  may  pardon  her ! 
Crush  not  the  bruised  reed — place  not  your 
foot  upon  the  head  bowed  down  to  the  dust. 
Henceforward,  to  you  she  can  only  be  an  ob- 
ject of  pity — let  her  be  one  of  forgiveness  too. 
Mother,  dear  mother,  it  would  let  sweet  light 
into  your  heart,  and  clear  the  black  cloud  from 
your  brain,  if  you  would  kneel  and  pray  for 
hen    Try  it— even  now — even  now." 

*'  You  gentle  tyrant  I  would  you  make  a 
fool  of  your  old  mother  7*  said  Mrs.  Snowdrop, 
much  softened.  *'  I  have  not  prayed  for  many 
years — the  words  would  clog  my  throat,  and 
suffocate  me.  When  I  begin,  the  struggle  will 
be  great ;  I  must  wrestle  with  my  sins  alone. 
But,  daughter,  for  your  sake  I  will  do  it." 

^*  May  God  bless  you  for  this,  as  I  do ! 
But  say  to  me,  this  moment,  that  you  forgive 
her;  and,  in  the  solemn  language  of  the  judg^ 


--- 


JACK   A8H0EE.  211 

ment-seat,  wish  her  a  good  deliverance  before 
man  now,  and  before  God  hereafter." 

**  I  forgive  this  person  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart,  and  may  she  find  a  good  deliverance 
before  man  now,  and  before  God  hereafter." 

*'  O  my  mother  P'  said  Susan,  flinging  her- 
self again  into  her  arms,  and  kissing  her  with 
raptures  of  afiection,  *^  I  am  so  happy  now. 
For  years  I  have  not  been  half  so  happy.  But 
I  feel  strangely  tired.  Let  me  go  to  sleep 
where  I  am— only  for  a  little  while— as  I  used 
to  do  when  I  was  a  baby.  Won't  you,  mother  ? 
it  is  so  delicious!'' 

Mrs.  Snowdrop  replied  only  by  a  fond  em* 
brace,  and  gathering  the  slight  form  of  her 
daughter  upon  her  ample  person,  and  placing 
her  pale  face  upon  her  bosom,  she  remained  im- 
movably still.  Yet  the  tears  burst  from  her 
eyesy  at  first  with  difficulty;  but  love  had 
opened  her  heart,  and  then  she  wept  freely, 
and  in  a  short  time  wept  herself  into  peace  and 
happiness,  even  whilst,  once  more  cradled  in  her 
arms,  her  daughter  slept 

But  there  had  been  two  witnesses  of  all  this 


212  JACK   ABHOBE. 

scene — Sir  Edward  and  Sir  John.  Admitted 
by  the  turnkey,  they  had  not  been  ob- 
served in  the  twilight,  and  not  knowing  at  what 
moment  to  interrupt  the  mother  and  daughter, 
they  now  thought  it  wrong  to  interrupt  them 
at  all;  so,  in  perfect  silence,  they  retired  as 
they  entered.  They  were  both  much  afliected 
— ^indeed.  Jack  could  not  at  all  understand  his 
feelings.  When  they  were  seated  in  the  keeper's 
room,  Sir  Edward  asked  his  cousin  how  old  was 
Susan. 

*'  Not  yet  seventeen,  and  yet  the  trim-built 
little  craft  has  sense  enough  for  seventy.** 

^*  She  has  virtue  and  goodness  enough  to 
redeem  half  the  wickedness  of  this  not  over 
righteous  sea-port.  Tell  me^  dear  cousin,  the 
whole  of  her  history  ?^ 

So  Jack,  in  his  simple^  straightforward  man- 
ner, told  it ;  and,  just  as  it  was  finished,  Mrs. 
Snowdrop  sent  for  lights.  They,  upon  hearing 
this,  concluding  that  mother  and  daughter  must 
be  sufficiently  composed  to  bear  intrusion,  en- 
tered with  the  candles. 


JACK    ASHOBX.  S13 


CHAPTER  X. 


B«gtiif  with  mBDj  aiiiiabQiti«»— Th«ra  u  much  eettliDg  of 
•eoTM,  ind  ererything  looks  ploMant— A  ride  on  a  eoicb — 
Listenert  seldom  hear  much  good  of  themselves,  though 
the  hearing  often  does  them  good — Jack  dines  on  the  road, 
and  afterwards  throws  one  of  the  compaoj  out  of  the 
window. 

^'  Well,  mother/'  said  Jack,  after  much  other 
conversation,  '*  so  we've  squared  yards,  and  can 
moor  alongside  of  each  other,  and  lend  a  friendly 
hand  if  need  be/' 

"  John  Truepenny,**  said  the  bumboat 
woman,  *<  we  have  both  made  two  flaming 
noodles  of  ourselves.  Everything  has  gone  on 
lately  in  a  manner  I  canH  understand — least 
said  soonest  mended — a  cow  makes  a  bad  hand 


214  JACK   ASHORE. 

at  a  hornpipe  on  account  of  her  cloven  feet,  *  and 
I  can't  very  well  walk  up  hill/  said  the  grind- 
stone—from all  which  I  gathers  that  I  have 
put  my  finger  in  a  pie  where  it  had  no  business; 
and  so  I  must  pay  for  the  baking  of  it,  to  the 
tune  of  some  hundreds." 

**  Not  a  farthing,  mother — not  a  farthing. 
We^U  trim  ships,  and  shift  ballast  in  the  ram- 
ming home  of  wad  and  shot.*" 

*•  You  are  very  kind  to  say  so.  Sir  John. 
You  are  looking  merry  and  well,  the  which  I 
am  glad  to  see,  but  the  law  and  the  lawyers 
are  all  on  your  side,  and  I  expectates  that  I 
shall  be  left  here  to  rot  in  gaol,  until  some 
fool's  pate  or  another  is  healed,  that  I  had  no 
more  hand  in  breaking  than  you.*' 

^'  No,  your  anchor  is  short  stay  a  peak,  so 
you  may  let  fall  and  sheer  home  as  soon  as  you 
like ;  but  this  gentleman,  who  allows  me  to  hail 
him  as  cousin,  is  Sir  Edward  Fortin tower,  and 
he  having  the  gift  of  the  gab,  will  read  the 
articles  of  war  to  you."*^ 

The  bumboat  woman  dropped  him  a  very 
low  curtsey,  and  folding  her  arms  before  her. 


JACK   ASHOBE*  216 

waited  to  hear  him  speak,  with  an  air  of  deep 
respect 

^  Mrs.  Snowdrop,**  said  Sir  Edward,  '<  I 
make  your  acquaintance  in  a  happy  moment. 
You  are  free  to  walk  out  of  this  prison  imme- 
diately. The  order  for  your  discharge  is 
lodged  with  the  governor.  I  have  become  re- 
sponsible to  the  magistrates,  that  to-morrow 
you  will  procure  the  necessary  bail  to  answer 
any -charge  that  may  be  preferred  against  you 
at  the  next  sessions,  for  assault  or  breach  of 
the  peace.  There  is  no  likelihood  of  any  being 
made  against  you ;  we  have  compromised  several 
little  affairs  arising  out  of  your  obstructing  my 
cousin's  procession.  It  appears  that  you  have 
been  kept  here  mainly  by  your  own  lawyer,  to 
answer  some  ends  of  his  own." 

<'  The  villain  !  read  that,  Sir  Edward,**  said 
Mrs.  Snowdrop,  giving  him  Mr.  Scrivener^s 
letter. 

*'  Well,  Mrs.  Snowdrop,  all  I  can  say  is, 
that,  at  the  price  of  twenty  pounds,  you  will 
purchase  your  dissolution  of  all  connexion  with 


216  JACK    A8H0RX. 

him,  most  cheaply,  if  Sir  John  Truepenny  suffers 
you  to  purchase  it  at  alL** 

*^  Not  a  shot  on  my  account  shall  mother 
fork  out ;  upon  that  I  am  up  and  down  posi- 
tive, as  stiff  as  the  dophin-striker." 

*<  My  cousin  takes  the  just  and  honourable 
view  of  it,  MrSi  Snowdrop.  Here  is  pen  and 
ink — ^now  we  must  go  to  business." 

So^  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  the  bumboat 
woman,  and  the  unbounded  admiration  of  her 
daughter,  checks  on  the  Portsmouth  bank  were 
given  for  every  expense  to  which  Mrs.  Snow- 
drop had  made  herself  liable  during  Jack'b 
week  of  madness*  Altogether,  this  amounted 
to  nearly  five  hundred  pounds,  law  expenses  in- 
cluded. Besides  the  enormous  and  fraudulent 
bill  of  the  landlord  of  the  Blue  Posts,  and  the 
acceptance  for  one  hundred  and  thirty  pounds 
held  by  Mr.  Scrivener,  Jack  paid  her  most 
liberally  for  the  outlay  to  which  she  had  been 
put  in  fetching  him  on  shore ;  and  added  also 
the  twenty  pounds,  Mr.  Scrivener''s  last  demand. 
Joy  and  gratitude  made  Mrs.  Snowdrop  speech- 


JACK    ASHORE.  217 

less ;  but  the  strong  and  deep  emotion  did  her 
infinite  good,  and  had  a  lasting  and  most  be- 
neficial eflect  upon  her. 

When  all  this  was  settled,  and  the  receipt 
given,  Jack,  forgetting  the  powder  in  his  hair, 
which  had  been  hastily  re-befloured  by  a  barber 
before  he  had  called  on  Sir  Edward,  began 
scratching  his  head  violently,  so  that  the  white 
drift  fell  in  showers  about  him.  This  tritura- 
tion of  the  scalp  was  Jack's  invariable  outward 
demonstration  of  perplexity,  not  in  thought, 
for  no  one  thought  more  vigorously  or  more 
justly,  but  in  the  want  of  words  to  shape  that 
thought  properly. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  «  I  can't  launch  it— that's 
flat ;  and  yet  I  must  try.  Missu?  Snowdrop, 
do  ye  know  as  how  I  likes  ye  for  one  thing— 
mainly  I  do— it's  your  spirit." 

••  Thank  ye^  Sir  John,  I've  had  a  little  too 
much  of  it  in  my  time-a  good  fire's  very 
well,  but  when  you  come  to  bum  the  house 
down  ■ ■" 

"Very  true,  mother;  but  still  spirit's  the 
thing  I  likes;  that  was  a  precious  good  skrim- 

VOL.    II. 


218  JACK    A8U0BB. 

mage  you  knocked  up  at  the  corner  of  High 
Street— it  was  well  and  seamanly  done — ^upon 
my  soul  I  enjoyed  it.  Taking  us  on  the  broad- 
side, raking  us  fore  and  aft  a  head,  whilst  we 
hadn't  a  ha'porth  of  stamway,  and  no  room 
to  tack — was  a  glorious  manoeuvre.  I  enjoyed 
it,  raother.*" 

^*  More  than  I  can  say— furs  are  not  pleasant 
in  warm  weather — the  cat  would  not  be  skinned 
in  the  dog-days,  for  fear  of  taking  cold.  Puss 
was  wiser  than  I.  I  got  the  worst  of  it,  Sir 
John,  every  way." 

"  Well,  so  you  did.  I  tell  ye,  I  enjoyed  it. 
How  much,  mother,  might  it  have  cost  ye  ? — a 
pretty  penny.  Come,  be  good*natured — I  want 
to  laugh  at  you — and  the  more  it  cost  you,  the 
better  the  joke  for  me.  Do,  Susan,  there^s  a 
dear,  make  your  mother  tell  us  all  it  cost— *it  is 
the  only  satisfaction  I  require." 

**  Why,^  said  the  bumboat  woman,  **  I  was 
just  stark  mad.  But  you  won^t  laugh  so  much 
as  you  think ;  for  the  rapscallions  were  ready 
enough  for  mischief  without  being  bribed  to  it. 
There    was    the  hire  of  the  two  carts,  one 


JACK   ASHORE.  819 

load  of  soil,  serenty  dozens  of  rotten  eggs, 
twelve  men  one  day^s  labour  each--and,  really, 
that  was  all ;  the  volunteers  brought  their  own 
ammunition,  and  they  were  to  be  paid  by  the 
plunder.  Really,  six  pounds  would  more  than 
cover  all  expenses.  ** 

**  It  must  have  cost  you  more^  mother- 
must  indeed.  Such  a  glory  of  a  row — such  a 
super-rarity  of  a  spree,  cost  only  six  pounds  ? 
Impossible  !'* 

"  True,  indeed,  Sir  John ;  for  I  don't  reckon 
the  damage  done  to  the  enemy.  There  I  had 
you.  Sir  John." 

"  Well  said,  mother— very  well,  indeed. 
Now,  I  enjoyed  that  skrimmage  amazingly, 
and  let  me  see  the  person  that  says  I  won'^t  pay 
for  it — I  should  take  it  as  an  affront  It  is  a 
pleasure  I  think  dirt  cheap  at  the  price. 
There — now  we  are  all  square.** 

<^  Pleasure  of  being  pelted,  going  to  church 
to  be  married,  with  rotten  eggs !  Well,  there's 
no  accounting  for  taste,  Sir  John.  The  dirtier 
the  hole,  the  more  comfortable  the  toad  f 
When  you  next  marry,  if  youll  double  the 

L  2 


it 


220  JACK    ASHOBX. 

paj)  I'll  double  the  bobbery,  and  give  you  an 
odd  dozen  of  eggs  into  the  bargain/' 

**  No,  no,  mother,  well  sheer  ofF,"  said  Jack, 
laughing.  **  Out  of  your  last  batch  of  eggs 
we  hatched  nothing  but  mischief.  However, 
when  next  I  am  going  to  church,  I'll  send  and 
tell  you.'* 

A  bargain  I  your  hand  upon  it  !'^ 
A  bargain  !  my  hand  upon  it  I"  said  Jack, 
shaking  the  lady's  hand. 

Such  a  manual  meeting,  considering  the  am- 
plitude of  the  meeters,  was  seldom  to  be  met 
with* 

Through  all  this  interview,  Mrs.  Snowdrop 
acted  with  much  sense.  Ardently  longing  to 
know  in  what  light  Jack  regarded  her  daughter, 
she  still  refrained  from  making  any  allusion  to 
the  position  in  which  they  stood,  the  one  to  the 
other. 

Now  that  she  might  immediately  have  en- 
joyed her  liberty,  she  seemed  to  be  in  no  haste 
to  avail  herself  of  that  blessing.  The  conver- 
sation then  became  general,  in  which  Miss 
Snowdrop,  by  the  delicate  encouragement   of 


JACK    ASHORE.  221 

Sir  Edward,  was  induced  to  bear  a  part  This 
gave  the  good  baronet  an  opportunity  of  intro- 
ducing a  subject  that  he  had  previously  dis- 
cussed with  Jack ;  and,  without  much  diffi- 
culty, the  mother  was  persuaded  to  concur  in 
the  views  of  the  two  baronets.  To  Susan  it 
was  a  blessed  anticipation.  The  plan  was, 
that,  for  two  or  three  years,  she  should  be  placed 
as  a  private  pupil,  or,  in  the  language  of  those 
days,  a  parlour  boarder,  in  some  first-rate  esta- 
blishment for  the  education  of  young  ladies, 
and  for  which  Sir  John  Truepenny  was  to  be 
at  the  sole  expense ;  Mrs.  Snowdrop  guarantee- 
ing, on  her  part,  immediately  to  execute  such  a 
deed,  that  she  could  not  be  able  afterwards,  in 
a  fit  of  ill-humour,  intemperance,  or  under  the 
influence  of  some  unprincipled  adventurer,  to 
alienate  from  her  daughter  the  bulk  of  her  very 
considerable  property. 

Mrs.  Snowdrop  had  sense  enough  to  dis- 
cover,  that  if  anything  could  make  her  the 
mother* in-law  of  a  baronet,  it  would  be  this 
arrangement.  She  therefore  joyfully  assented 
to  it  when  it  was  fully  explained  to  her,  though^ 


t22*2  JACK   ASHORE. 

at  first}  she  had  made  some  little  difficulty  at 
being  so  long  deprived  of  the  society  of  a 
daughter,  about  whom,  until  that  moment,  she 
had  appeared  to  care  so  little. 

It  was  finally  arranged,  that  that  day  week 
Mrs.  and  Miss  Snowdrop  should  be  at  Miss 
Anne  Truepenny's,  in  order  to  carry  this  judi* 
Clous  plan  into  execution ;  Mrs.  Snowdrop 
undertaking  to  sign  the  necessary  papers  in 
London,  and  then  proposing  to  return  to  the 
old  profitable,  but  disgusting,  business, — for 
now»  having  something  definite,  and  even  mag- 
nificent, to  look  forward  to^  she  was  determined, 
by  all  possible  means,  to  increase  her  wealth — a 
resolution  fraught  with  woe  to  the  jolly  tars. 

Susan  was  all  gratitude;  but,  as  the  drama 
of  her  and  Jack's  adventures  proceeded,  she 
gradually  became  enlightened  as  to  the  pros- 
pects and  the  positions  of  both,  and  to  hope 
the  less,  in  just  the  same  proportion  that  her 
mother  hoped  the  more.  She  imagined  Jack 
to  possess,  intrinsically,  great  talents  and  splen- 
did abilities— -that  he  would  soon  be  aware  of 
his  immense  advantages,  and  grow  commen« 


JACK   A8H0BB.  223 

surately  ambitious*  She  was  fully  aware  that 
he  had  never  felt  any  passion  for  her ;  and  she 
was  more  humble  in  her  estimate  of  her  pe]> 
sonal  attractions  than  the  fact  warranted  :  in- 
deed, if  to  be  unlike  Poll  in  her  brazen  and 
bold  beauty  was  to  be  plain,  very  plain  indeed 
was  Susan  Snowdrop. 

At  an  early  hour  on  the  following  morning 
Jack  was  again  comfortable:  he  was  seated, 
dressed  as  a  sailor,  outside  the  Portsmouth 
coach,  with  Giles  Grimm  on  one  side  of  him,  a 
soldier^s  wife  on  the  other,  and  nothing  worse 
before  him  than  his  brilliant  prospects,  and  his 
long  clay  pipe.  Human  happiness  could  not 
have  been  more  complete.  The  untried  but 
glorious  future  was  leading  him  forward ;  he 
had  high  health,  a  warm  heart,  and  objects 
near  him  on  whoYn  to  expend  that  generous 
warmth.  He  was  conscious  of  a  superiority 
that  yet  he  could  not  fully  comprehend.  If,  in 
these  moments  of  his  exhilaration,  he  forgot  his 
Poll,  and  only  thought  of  Sue  as  a  nice,  in- 
teresting little  girl,  can  we  blame  him  ? 

Sir  Edward  and  Mr,  Singleheart  travelled 


224  JACK   A8H0BE. 

as  inside  passengers.  Nothing  particular  oc- 
curred until  the  coach  stopped,  that  the  pas^ 
sengers  might  dine.  People  actually  dined  on 
the  road,  going  between  Portsmouth  and 
London,  in  those  uncouth  times.  In  order  to 
avoid  publicity,  the  two  seamen  were  booked 
by  the  name  of  Brown,  and  passed  as  father 
and  son,  and  the  baronet  and  the  lawyer  were 
called  two  Smiths. 

On  the  outside  of  the  coach,  Jack  had 
heard  many  things  not  extremely  to  his  ad- 
vantage, and  he  could  very  well  collect  from 
the  general  report,  that  he  had  no  better 
character  than  that  of  a  drunken  swab,  who 
would  squander  away  his  wealth  in  the  most 
discreditable  manner,  and  finish  his  career 
cither  in  a  prison  or  a  workhouse.  At  all 
this,  Jack  was  too  happy  to  feel  oiFended,  and 
contented  himself  with  resolving  to  give  the  lie 
to  this  prophecy,  not  by  words,  but  by  his  con- 
duct :  an  excellent  resolution,  but  much  more 
easily  made  than  acted  up  to. 

Jack  and  Giles,  at  the  invitation  of  Sir  Ed- 
ward, sate  themselves  down  to  dine  with  the 
inside    passengers.      Hence    arose    a    mighty 


JACK    A8HORE.  225 

squabble.  A  coxcombical^  finical,  over-dressed 
man,  and  a  fussy  dowager-looking  sort  of 
woman,  were  horror-struck  at  this  profanation. 
The  landlord  was  sent  for  and  well  scolded. 
The  two  Smiths  were  told  to  their  faces,  that 
they  were  low  fellows  for  permitting  two  com- 
mon sailors  to  sit  at  the  table  with  them,  and 
the  old  lady  peremptorily  ordered  the  said 
Smiths  to  rise  and  kick  the  said  sailors  out  of 
the  apartment 

The  Messieurs  Smiths,  however,  took  no 
notice  of  this  premonition,  but  commenced 
eating  and  drinking  as  unconcernedly  as  if  there 
were  no  angry  fat  old  woman,  or  vapouring 
conceited  middle-aged  man,  in  existence.  Now, 
the  latter,  unfortunately  for  him,  construing 
their  silence  into  awe,  and  their  contempt  into 
cowardice,  calling  up  a  look  meant  to  be  terri- 
ble, he  asked  the  masticating  party  if  they 
knew  who  he  was,  and  be  damned  to  them. 
At  this  civil  interrogatory  each  of  the  party 
looked  up  at  the  inquirer,  from  his  plate,  as 
much  as  to  say,  **  Do  you  ?"  and  then  continued 
very  composedly  their  agreeable  procesF. 


I 

I 
I 


226  JACK   ASHORE. 

"  By  jingo,  if  I  did  not  scorn  to  dirty  my 
hands  with  such  low  fellows,  I'd  pull  your 
noses  all  round.  Here,  waiter  I  have  you 
another  apartment  for  this  lady  and  me  to  dine 
in  r 

**  Nothing  but  the  tap-room  and  the  kitchen. 
Sir." 

'*  Well,  lay  a  cloth  for  us  in  this  room — ^and, 
d'ye  hear,  bring  me  half-a-pint  of  port — and, 
d^ye  hear,  waiter  ?  bring  all  the  dishes  here, 
before  you  take  them  to  the  other  table— I  was 
never  so  insulted  before,  in  all  my  days.  Was 
you,  marm  ?'* 

I  purtest  it's  abominable— low  creatures ! 
I  can't  abide  a  sailor  man  anywhere  but  on  the 
stage  at  Sadler's  Wells — they  be  sailors  there ! 
not  such  vulgar  things  as  these  here.  Don't 
you,  sir,  find  an  intolerable  close  smell  of  pitch 
and  baccky  ?" 

••  Those  filthy  blue  jackets,  marm." 
*  This  told  so  well  that  the  lady  felt  tempted 
to  go  a  little  further,  and  declared  she  was 
quite  overcome  with  another  strong  scent,  as  if 
bad  soap  were  worked  up  into  a  lather. 


JACK   ASHORE.  227 

**  Quite  right,  marm — I  know  a  hairdresser 
anywhere  by  his  traiL  Two  barbers,  depend 
upon  it— the  old  'un  the  master — the  young  'un 
the  apprentice.  How  they  can  a£Pord  to  travel 
inside,  and  pay  for  a  dinner  with  gentlefolks,  is 
a  mystery." 

"  It  M  a  mystery,  sir  —  without  they  are 
spunging  upon  the  sailors, — just  paid  off— or 
got  some  prize-money,  perhaps.  Ask  the  sea 
brutes.'' 

*^I  say,  you  sailor  men — ^have  you  been  just 
paid  off?" 

**  Yes,**  said  Jack,  "  and  you're  just  going  to 
be.** 

<*  Insolent  fellow  T'  said  the  lady. 

**0h,  poor  devils,  when  they  get  a  little 
money,  while  it  lasts  they  always  make  beasts 
of  themselves,  and  insult  their  betters.  The 
couple  of  barbers  are  the  worst — pitiful  ras- 
cals!" 

During  the  whole  time  of  dinner  the  stranger 
continued  in  this  strain.  He  opened  his  eyes 
a  little  when  he  heard  Sir  Edward  recommend 
Jack  always  to  drink  claret,  and  endeavour  to 


228  JACK    ASHOBE. 

acquire  a  taste  for  it — and  he  opened  them  still 
wider  when  he  found  them  all  drink  it  at  four- 
teen shillings  a  bottle. 

*^  The  poor  seamen^s  money,  marm.^ 

It  was  the  last  remark  that  he  was  permitted 
to  make  upon  this  interesting  subject.  The 
coachman,  all  civility  and  obsequiousness,  came 
to  announce  the  coach  ready.  He  had  recog- 
nised our  hero  and  his  friends,  and  had  made 
all  the  people  at  the  inn  acquainted  who  were 
the  illustrious  party  they  were  entertaining. 

**  Coachman/'  said  Jack,  '^  give  this  half- 
crown  to  the  ostler,  and  tell  him  to  strew  a 
few  layers  of  dung  under  the  window.** 

^^  Yes,  your  honour,"  said  the  lord  of  the 
whip,  vanishing  obediently. 

"Your  honour!'* — said  the  stranger — "the 
scavenger  after  that." 

Jack  now  rose,  and  being,  as  we  before 
stated,  a  very  powerful  man,  he  seized  the 
stranger,  by  what  Jack  called  "  the  scruff  of 
the  neck,"  with  his  right  hand,  and  the  "  tie  of 
his  breechings"^  with  the  left,  and  coolly  lifted 
him  off  his  feet.     The  small  man    kicked  a 


JACK    ASHORE.  229 

good  deal,  and  gasped  a  little — but  words  he 
could  utter  none. 

**  lAarm/*  said  Jack,  with  a  peculiarly  sweet 
voice,  ^*  I'll  trouble  you  to  open  the  window, 
for  I  am  going  to  throw  your  friend  out  of  it. 
DonH  be  alarmed,  marm  —  this  is  only  the 
ground  floor,  and  there's  a  bed  made  for  him 
to  fall  upon— you  really  had  better  open  the 
window,  marm— for  if  you  don't,  I  shall  send 
him  smash  through  it— and  that  may  cut  his 
delicate  face.  Very  well,  marm,  I  and  this 
gentleman  be  very  much  obliged  to  you.  Now, 
sir,  you  have  had  your  half-hour's  fun  at  our 
expense,  let  me  have  my  half-minute's  diversion 
at  yours,  you  foul-tongued  blackguard — don't 
for  the  future  abuse  a  sailor—- don't  again, 
you  puppy,  mistake  silence  for  the  white 
feather — remember,  for  all  time  to  come,  that 
it's  rather  dangerous  to  speak  ill  of  a  sailor, 
and  that  it  is  downright  madness  to  insult  his 
friend — d^ye  hear  all  that  ? — answer  me,  you 
capering  anatomy.  1^11  shake  you  till  you  do.** 
And  Jack  shook  the  suspended  little  man  till 
his  limbs  seemed  to  be  flying  from  his  body. 


230  JACK    ASHORE. 


I  hear,  sir/'  said  he,  panting  for  breath. 
Your  honour,  if  you  please.     Did  you  not 
just  now  hear  the  worthy  coachman  call  me 
your  honour,  you  ill-mannered  cub  ?** 

'*  I  hear  you,  your,  your  hon — ^non — ner !" 
**  Very  well ;  now,  as  the  parson  says,  ashes 
to  ashes,  and  dung  to  dung." 

And  the  little  insulter  flew  through  the 
opened  casement,,  amidst  the  roars  of  laughter 
of  all  the  passengers,  and  every  one  connected 
with  the  inn. 


JACK   ASHOSE.  231 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Jack  in  London^-Ezcellent  adTice— Lord  Chesterfield  made 
easy— Tfaifl  chapter  should  be  studied  bjr  mral  and  nsTal 
gentlemen^  and  all  upon  whom  the  mat  of  rusticity  adheres 
—The  end  of  the  lesson  is  a  fiddle,  a  hompipe,  and  a  jolli- 
fication. 

The  party  repaired  to  a  quiet  hotel  in  the 
Adelphi,  where  they  were  likely  to  excite  no 
observation^  and  that  evening  Jack  was  obUged 
to  undergo  the  infliction  of  some  two  houra^  very 
excellent  advice.  Jack  promised  all  things, 
and  even  went  so  far  as  to  say,  that  to  oblige 
his  cousin  he  would  drink  a  dozen  of  claret 
daily,  but  he  petitioned  fervently  for  permission 
to  drink  it  after  the  manner  of  grog>  qualifying 
its  acidity  with  one  third  its  quantity  of  rum. 


S32  JACK   ASHORE^ 

Not  granted.  ^  Hard  drinking.  Sir  John,  is 
the  besetting  sin  of  the  age.  It  is  the  standing 
reproach  of  our  country ; — a  vice,  my  dear 
relation,  that  you  are  but  too  much  inclined  to 
fall  into.  Fly  from  it,  as  you  would  from  a 
pestilence,"  said  Sir  Edward,  with  all  the 
gravity  of  a  master. 

Sir  John  was  a  little  awed  and  a  good  deal 
puzzled  by  this  sitting,  standing,  falling,  flying 
caution ;  and,  to  prove  how  much  he  respected 
it,  swallowed  his  next  glass  of  claret  without 
making  his  usual  grimace  of  contempt.  Sir 
Edward  continued  his  oration,  Mr.  Singleheart 
every  now  and  then  tapping  the  table  with  his 
glass,  to  awaken  the  attention  of  Sir  John, 
when  he  fancied  that  it  might  be  flagging. 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry.  Sir  John,  to  part 
you  from  your  truly  fatherly  friend,  GUes 
Grimm ;  but  as  no  inducement  can  be  ofi^ered  him 
to  make  him  assume  the  usual  garb  of  a  civilian, 
we  must  find  some  occupation  for  him  which 
he  can  perform  in  a  sailor's  dress,  and  which 
will  not  necessarily  place  him  about  your 
person.    We    cannot    introduce   him  into  the 


JACK   ASHORE.  233 

drawing-room,  or  walk  with  him  on  the  pro- 
menade; nor  can  he  perform  the  office  of  major 
domo,  either  in  town  or  country,  with  credit  to 
you  or  satisfaction  to  himself,  unless  he  totally 
cast  o£P  the  sailor,  both  in  dress  and  manner. 
Now,  cousin,  as  yet,  I've  not  disposed  of  any  of 
my  superfluities — those  superfluities  that  are 
not  deemed  superfluous  to  a  person  moving  in 
our  respective  ranks,  but  which  to  me,  in  the 
present  state  of  my  fortune,  are  very  super- 
fluous indeed.  There  is  my  cutter-rigged 
yacht,  lying  off  Greenwich.  She  is  a  smart- 
vessel,  and  one.  Sir  John,  which  your  know- 
ledge  and  seamanship  will  not  despise.  I  will 
dispose  of  her  to  you  at  a  fair  valuation,  and 
you  can  instal  Grimm  as  its  commander — ^and, 
for  a  careful  old  sailor,  a  very  pretty  command 
it  is." 

**  Done  l**  said  Jack,  his  eyes  sparkling  with 
delight. 

*^  We  will  consider  that  as  settled.  To- 
morrow I  would  advise  you  to  remain  quiet, 
and  by  the  next  day  you  will  have  the  proper 
adjuncts  of  a  gentleman.^ 


234  JACK   ASUOAE. 


c< 


Junks  for  a  gentleman — we  never  cut  up 
junk  for  such  nonsense  !'* 

^'  By  adjuncts,  Sir  John,  I  mean  dress,  equi- 
page, and  everything  that  others  can  do  for 
him — the  indispensables  are  what  only  he  can  do 
for  himself.  Now,  dear  cousin,  these  latter  are 
the  most  difficult  to  acquire  —  we  must  see 
what  study  and  instruction  can  do  for  you." 

^*  I  am  very  willing  to  larn,  cousin." 

**  But,  in  the  first  place,  we  must  begin  by 
unlearning.  You  must  avoid  all  sea  phrases — 
you  must  accost  people,  not  hail  them — ^youmust 
take  leave  of  them,  and  not  part  company— -you 
must  sit  down  on  a  chair,  or  a  sofa,  and  not 
moor  ship— and  when  you  hand  a  lady  to  a 
seat,  you  must  not  tell  her  to  bring  herself  to 
an  anchor." 

^  Very  good.  Sir  Edward  ;  I'll  chalk  all  that 
down  on  my  log^board.^ 

*^  You  will  do  no  such  thing,  cousin  of  mine, 
you  will  merely  record  it  in  your  memory." 

**  Ah,  ah,  cousin  of  mine !  IVe  caught  you 
tripping ;  use  no  sea  phrases,  says  you,  and  here 
you  are  talking  of  re-cordtftgr  things  up  in  the 


JACK   ASHORE.  235 

memory ;  and  wrong  arter  all,  for  we  don't  say 
cord,  but  lash  ;  when  we  would  secure  a  thing, 
we  say  lash  it — we  lash  up  a  hammock,  lash  the 
colours  to  the  mast,  and  so  on.  I  will  lash  it  up 
in  my  memory,  Sir  Edward,  but  I*m  a  lubber 
if  I  either  cord  or  record  it.** 

**  Remember  it,  at  all  events ;  and  on  shore, 
when  we  wish  to  go  from  one  place  to  another 
on  foot,  we  walk — we  do  not  roll ;  and  we  stop, 
but  do  not  bring  up  all  standing." 
^*  I  circumstands." 

^^  You  understand.  I  do  not  say  there  may 
not  be  such  a  word  as  circumstand.  Of  the 
fifty-nine  words  acknowledged  by  our  great 
lexicographer,  that  have  the  prefix  of  circum, 
circumstand  does  not  stand  among  them.** 

**  A  curious  circumstance,*'  said  Jack,  not 
exactly  knowing  what  to  say,  but  knowing  he 
ought  to  say  something.  *^  May  I  ask,  what  a 
legs-he-cogs-rafier  may  beP — ^legs  must  have 
something  to  do  with  standing,  in  course — ^but 
I  am  puzzled  about  the  dittos  at  the  end  of  his 
rating.** 

'<  We  will  leave  the  dittos  alone,  and  the 
lexicographer  too^  for  the  present.    When  I 


I 


233  JACK  ashore; 

am  not  understood,  say  so.  Do  not  touch  your 
hat  when  you  are  spoken  to.  Lift  it  reverently 
from  your  head  to  a  lady,  bow  to  a  gentleman, 
and  don't  be  too  eager  to  shake  hands  with 
anybody,  at  least  for  some  time.  Pardon  me, 
cousin,  but  to  be  gripped  by  your  fist  is  like 
being  caught  in  a  mild  man-trap.  Wear  gloves 
continually  night  and  day,  and  make  as  little 
use  of  your  hands  as  possible ;  rowing  I  abso- 
lutely forbid  ;  and  walking  with  a  heavy  stick 
must  not  be  thought  of.  Your  teeth  are  band* 
some,  very— but  still  a  little  stained  with  that 
odious  tobacco.  You  must  go  to  a  dentist,  and 
scrupulously  follow  his  advice.  You  may 
smile  as  much  as  you  will— your  smile  is  really 
cheering ;  but  your  laugh,  it  is  so  boisterous — 
it  is  like  the  rattling  of  artillery  passing  over  a 
paved  road.  Cousin,  you  will  rarely  see  me 
laugh." 

•*  The  more's  the  pity." 

**  Oh  !  we  donH  laugh  in  our  walk  of  life^ 
you  may  indulge  in  a  chuckle — ^yes,  a  chuckle, — 
but  heaven  defend  me  from  your  cachinnation." 

**  I  wish  it  was  more  catching,  that's  'all ; 
and  that  you  would  be  the  first  to  catch  it. 


JACK   ASHORE.  237 

Why,  I've  myself  seen  you  laugh  like  a  monk  ey 
that  has  just  stolen  a  cocoa*nut«^ 

<*  That  has  been  among  ourselves.  I  aoi 
speaking  of  your  conduct  in  mixed  society. 
And,  cousin,  don't  make  sorry  comparisons,  and 
break  awkward  jests,  on  any  but  myself,  and 
those  who  regard  you  as  I  do." 

^^  No  offence.  Sir  Edward — ^none  I  hope;  but 
a  merrier  little  fellow  than  a  monkey,  with  a 
nut  in  his  fist,  in  the  middle  of  a  hogany  tree, 
I  never  clapped  eyes  on — ^no  offence,  cousin." 

**  None  in  the  least,  my  dear  cousin ;  only, 
till  you  have  seen  a  little  more  of  the  world,  I 
would  advise  you  not  to  jest  at  all.  One  of 
the  best  jests  I  ever  heard  of,  cost  the  poor 
maker  of  it  his  life." 

'*  I  should  like  to  hear  that  jest,  cousin. 
Though  I  should  know  it,  I'll  take  care  not  to 
teU  it." 

**  It  is  an  old  story.  When  Tiberius  suc- 
ceeded Augustus  as  emperor  of  the  Romans, 
the  former  withheld  a  very  valuable  legacy  left 
to  the  public  by  the  latter.  The  unfortunate 
joker  of  whom  I  was  speaking  contrived  to  let 


^3S  JACK   ASHORK. 

Tiberius  see  Imn  whiqier  into  the  ear  of  a  dead 
man.     The  emperor  very  natarslly  asked  the 
meaning  of  sndi  a  proceeding.    The  presump- 
tuous wit  replied,  <  That  he  wished  the    de- 
parted soul  to  signify  to  Augustus   that  the 
commons  of  Rome  were  yet  unpaid.'    For  this 
bitter  jest,  the  emperor  caused  him  to  be  slain 
on  the  spot,  and^thus  carry  the  news  himself.** 
•*  May  all  such  emperors  be  rammed,  jam- 
med, and  damned,  into  a  two-and-thirty  inch 
mortar,  and  blown  as  far  into  the  sky  as  they 
ever  will  get;— that's  Jack's  vardict     But  go 
on,  cousin,  I  undercurostnimbles  your  drifL** 

**  Undercumstrumble !  Spirit  of  Doctor 
Johnson,  bow  down  and  listen !  I  think,  Mr. 
Singleheart,  that  for  the  present  we  had  better 
leave  his  cacology  alone.*' 

**  I  thinks  you  had  better,  seeing  as  how — " 
"  Not  a  word  about  it.  Sir  John.  To  im- 
prove your  deportment  and  make  you  present- 
able, we  must  procure  you  immediately  a  danc- 
ing and  a  fencing  master,  and  a  professor  of  the 
broadsword  would  not  be  amiss.  A  teacher  of 
English,  and  a  writing  master  must  be  engaged 


JACK  ASHOBE.  239 

iminediately,  A  French  master  is  indispen- 
sable, and  a  smattering  of  Italian  requisite.  A 
classical  master  must  not  be  neglected ;  Latin 
for  a  few  hours  daily,  for  the  present,  will  be 
sufficient ;  and  in  about  a  year  hence  he  may 
commence  the  Greek  language." 

At  this  enumeration,  Sir  John  looked  dread- 
fully chopfallen ;  and  at  the  prospect  of  the 
Greek  he  commenced  a  most  dolorous  whistle. 

"  Don't  be  discouraged,  my  excellent  young 
friend.  You  are  yet  in  the  prime  of  youth, 
and  great  things  are  expected  from  you.  The 
pages  of  history  are  teeming  with  examples  of 
what  may  be  achieved  by  application  at  a  late 
period  in  life.  It  is  well  authenticated  that 
Galgerandus,  a  rich  man  of  Mantua,  being 
troubled  with  the  spleen^  now  called  ennui, 
from  having  nothing  to  do,  at  the  age  of  fifty 
began  to  learn  the  Greek,  Hebrew,  and  Syriac 
languages,  and  became  so  eminently  proficient 
in  all  of  them,  that  he  left  behind  him  forty 
and  three  volumes  written  in  these  tongues,  on 
astrology,  alchemy,  and  permitted  and  forbid- 
den magic ;  all  of  which,  to  the  great  misfortune 
of  posterity,  are  now  lost.'* 


240  JACK    ASHOHE. 

Jack  looked  up  with  a  very  puzzled  counte» 
nance,  and  innocently  asked  if  all  this  happened 
a  long  while  aga 

"  In  the  thirteenth  century .'' 

*^  That  accounts  for  it — poor  gentleman,  I 
pities  him — for  I  dare  say  baccky  and  grog 
wam't  invented  then." 

<*  I  think,  Sir  Edward,"  said  the  lawyer, 
**  that  you  are  teaching  my  client  too  fast" 

**  Very  probably,  but  we  must  do  our  best 
You  know  well  what  vast  motives  sway  me,  to 
make  him  in  manner  worthy  of  what  I  believe 
to  be  his  intrinsic  goodness.  However,  we  will 
bring  the  present  lesson  to  a  closer  by  merely 
asking  him  if  he  has  any  taste  for  music." 

<<  AinH  I  ?  Many  will  be  the  dull  hour 
on  board  the  Glory,  now  Jack^s  a  barrow- 
nighf' 

<*  Baronet — dear  Sir  John,  how  often  I  am 
obliged  to  correct  you  in  that  single  word  ?'' 

"  Well,  I'll  mend  apace, — ^music — fetch  me  a 
fiddle,  and  send  up  old  Grimm,  and  if  he  can 
stand  it  without  dancing,  Fm  spooney .** 

The  fiddle   was  soon  procured,  and   Jack 


JACK   A8R0BB«  241 

Struck  up  a  tune  with  so  much  truth  and  spirit, 
that  the  two  gentlemen  were  amazed,  and  whis- 
pered to  each  other  in  raptures^  **  This  is  true 
genius." 

The  effect  of  the  old  tune  w  pon  old  Grimm 
was  curious;  he  hitched  up  his  trousers, 
then  thrust  forth  one  leg  and  shook  it  to  the 
tune,  then  the  other,  then  both  together;  at 
last  he  jumped  up,  and  fairly  danced  all  through 
the  sailor's  hornpipe,  long  cut,  and  long  and 
short  shuffle  complete,  quite  to  his  own  satis- 
faction, and  to  the  ineffable  delight  of  all  the 
party. 

The  rest  of  th3  evening  was  passed  more  as 
if  they  had  been  in  the  lower  deck  of  a  man  of 
war  than  in  a  quiet  hotel  near  the  Strand*  In 
spite  of  the  gentility  and  gravity  of  S^  Edward 
and  the  lawyer.  Jack  made  them  as^  merry  as 
himself,  and  they  confessed  that  he  was,  in  his 
own  rough  way,  a  master  spiriL 


VOI«  II,  M 


242  JACK  ASROKK. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Verj  sliort,  bat  decidedly  to  the  purpoie— JtckTitits  bis  town 
rendence  incog. — Gets  on  botrd  bit  yaobt,  ud  be  and  old 
Griinm,  like  two  lebooWboys,  play  tbe  tmuit. 

The  following  morning  discovered  Jack  yawn- 
ing dreadfuUy  over  masses  of  papers  and  parch- 
ments, and  Sir  Edward  and  the  lawyer  vainly 
endeavouring  to  fix  his  attention.  At  length. 
Sir  John  fairly  gave  in,  and  begged  of  his 
cousin,  as  a  great  favour,  to  permit  him  to  go 
with  Grimm,  incog.,  and  visit  his  own  house  in 
Cavendish  Square,  and  afterwards  the  yacht 
at  Greenwich,  both  of  which  had  been  made 
over  to  him  by  Sir  Edward.  He  wished  to  do 
this  as  a  stranger,  and  he  gave  many  reasons 
for  it. 
Sir  Edward,  not  choosing  to  make  his  influence 


JACK   A8HOBE*  243 

appear  onerous,  gave  the  necesBary  letters  to 
his  steward,  who  was  to  be  Sir  John^s  hereafter, 
if  approved  of,  and  to  the  person  in  charge  of 
the  yacht* 

In  Cavendish  Square  the  two  seamen  met 
with  a  great  deal  of  insolence,  and  in  spite  of 
the  earnest  recommendation  of  their  master  that 
respect  should  be  shown  to  them,  they  ex* 
perienced  nothing  but  superciliousness  and  con* 
tempt.  All  the  events  that  we  have  narrated 
had  passed  so  rapidly,  and  were  as  yet  known  to 
so  few,  that  none  of  Sir  Edward's  establishment 
was  aware  of  what  great  changes  had  taken 
place,  and  of  what  still  greater  changes  were  at 
hand* 

It  would  require  at  least  three  chapters  to 
detail  the  various  ludicrous  incidents  of  this 
visit  of  the  unknown  master ;  but  we  have  not 
the  necessary  space  for  the  detail ;  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  say,  that  Sir  John  followed  his  cousin's 
advice,  and  chuckled  exceedingly.  After  he 
had  had  his  own  door  slammed  in  his  face  before 
almost  the  whole  of  his  establishment,  because 
he  had  not  feed  them,  he  and  Grimm  made  for 

M  2 


241  JACK   ASHORE. 

the  nearest  waterside  with  all  despatch,  and, 
getting  into  a  boat,  were  soon  on  board  the 
"Ann.* 

Those  were  glorious  moments,  when  Jack 
first  stepped  on  board.  He  actually  crowed 
like  a  cock  with  his  sense  of  enjoyment.  His 
words  were  thick  and  hiccuppy  with  intense 
pleasure.  Grimm's  delight  was  almost  equal 
to  his  own.  Every  part  of  the  craft  was  exa- 
mined and  dwelt  upon.  All  met  their  appro- 
bation. Of  course,  a  shroud  or  so  wanted  a 
little  more  setting  up,  and  a  rope  here  and 
there  hauled  a  little  more  taut.  But  it  was 
so  pleasant  to  find  these  trifling  faults. 

There  were  on  board  six  men  and  two  boys,  all 
well  dressed  and  clean.  There  were  still  two  va- 
cancies, the  one  for  the  commander,  the  other  for 
the  cook.  Grimm  did  not  then  know  the  hap- 
piness that  awaited  him  in  the  first  appoint- 
ment. 

They  afterwards  went  below,  and  the  cabins 
were  their  admiration.  When  they  were  no 
longer  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  the  crew,  they 
shook  hands  together  for  nearly  five  minutes 


JACK    ASHORE.  245 

vithout  speaking.  Their  joy  was  too  deep  for 
words.  They  then  examined  the  stores,  and 
found  them  ample,  and  also  an  excellent  supply 
of  spirits  and  choice  wines.  They  rang  the 
bell,  and  had  a  delicious  lunch.  As  Sir  Ed 
ward's  letter  told  the  person  in  charge  to  treat 
the  visiters  as  he  would  himself,  and  to  obey 
them  in  every  particular.  Jack  found  no  obstacle 
to  all  his  wishes. 

But  suddenly  our  hero  grew  peevish  and 
fretful,  and  kept  muttering  to  himself,  '*  He 

would  be  d d  if  he  did — wouldn't  give  it 

up — sooner  be  keel-hauled— old  Grimm  might 
have  the  house  in  the  square  if  he  liked— would 
make  as  good  a  barrownight  as  himself — better 
•—but  as  to  the  handling  of  this  here  craft 
— tell  that  to  the  marines."  At  length  he  spoke 
out 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  father,  you  sha''n't 
command  this  beauty.^ 

*<  Never  supposed  I  should,  my  son." 

**  Ah,  didnH  you  ?  So  much  the  better  for 
you.  But  you  shall  be  my  first  luff.  So  finish 
the  grog,  and  turn  the  hands  up— up  anchor.'* 


246  JACK   A8HORK. 


€t 


Ay,  ay,  sir,'*  said  Giles,  quite  officially, 
^  but  you  know.  Sir  John,  that  you  promiaed 
to  be  sure  and  be  home  to  dine  at  six,  and  it's 
DOW  nearly  four." 

*'  Well  said,  father,  but  we'll  just  make  a 
reach  down,  and  try  a  course  or  two  for  an  hour, 
or  may  be  an  hour  and  a  half;  and  then  we^ 
have  a  chaise-and-four  up  to  town.  I  must 
see  the  darling  under  canvass— there's  a  nice 
breeze,  and  off  we  go.^' 

The  anchor  was  weighed.  Jack  himself  took 
the  helm,  and  away  they  went,  the  very  hap- 
piest of  human  beings.  Who  then  thought  of 
the  dark  rooms  in  the  hotel  ?  Even  the  prudent 
Giles  forgot  them.  .  Everything  was  lost  sight  of 
but  the  excitement  of  enjoyment  They  were 
soon  round  the  NoreJight ;  one  of  the  men  had 
killed  a  couple  of  fowls  and  roasted  them,  and  at 
the  very  time  Jack  should  have  been  sitting  down 
to  dinner  with  his  cousin  and  his  lawyer,  he  and 
Grimm  went  into  the  state  cabin,  and  ate  the 
most  relishing  meal  that  they  ever  yet  enjoyed* 

After  the  wine  and  grog  had  played  its  part, 
no  one  thought  of  going  back.    The  weather 


JACK  A8H0&K.  247 

WAS  delightful^  the  breeze  a  Bailor^s  happiness. 
So  they  stretched  out  to  sea,  settled  the  watch, 
and  then  lapped  themselves  in  Elysium.  Next 
morning  they  made  the  English  coast,  and 
towards  the  evening,  the  *^  Ann,''  with  a  yacht 
colour  flying,  was  manoeuvring  about  the  fleet 
at  Spithead,  from  which  Jack  and  Giles  had 
been  so  recently  discharged. 

They  did  not  make  themselves  known,  and 
thus,  perhaps,  enhanced  their  pleasure.  How- 
ever, they  passed  under  the  stem  of  the  Old 
Glory  several  times,  without  any  apparent 
reason  for  so  doing. 

It  was  three  entire  days  before  they  re- 
turned to  their  mooring  ofi^  Greenwich ;  having 
during  all  this  time,  been  the  happiest 
of  the  happy.  When  Jack  had  seen  all  snug, 
and  was  about  to  leave,  he  felt  rather  queer^ 
and  very  much  afraid  to  meet  his  good 
friend.  He  had  a  great  mind  to  stay  on  board 
altogether,  and  to  send  Giles  up  as  his  substi- 
tute ;  but  the  remembrance  of  all  his  cousin'^s 
kindness  prevented  him,  and  so  he  determined 
to  meet  his  anger,  and  humbly  to  submit  him- 
self to  his  reproof. 


i4S  JACK   ASHORE. 

On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  from  his 
departure,  Sir  John,  and  Old  Grimm  at  his 
heels,  were  seen  stealing  into  the  hotel,  like 
two  strange  dogs  fearful  of  a  beating. 


JACK  ASBOBK.  249 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Not  mucb  to  the  credit  of  oar  hero  in  ooe  Mnee,  yerj  much  in 
mostr^Being  his  ovn  master  now,  he  takes  to  himself  many 
masters  worse  than  himself,  and  profits  rery  considerably 
—He  generalizes  in  his  studies,  aod  becomes  Gentleman 
Jack. 

The  incidents  of  drollery,  and  the  laughable 
absurdities,  into  which  Sir  John  precipitated 
himself,  or  was  drawn  into,  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  narrate  in  any  publishable  compass. 
We  must  therefore  epitomize,  and  content 
ourselves  with  saying,  that  Sir  Edward  was  in- 
defatigable and  forbearing,  and  Mr.  Singleheart 
attentive  to  his  interests,  and  not  unsuccessful 
in  giving  him  some  necessary  habits  of  busi- 
ness, and  making  him  tolerably  well  acquainted 
with  the  extent  of  bis  fortune,  his  resources, 
and  the  many  advantages  of  his  position. 

M  5 


250  JACK   ASHOBK. 

Sir  John  himself  was  determined  to  try  his 
new  state  of  life  for  a  year,  and  to  sit  down 
earnestly  and  laboriously  to  attain  those  ac- 
quirements that  would  adorn  and  dignify  it 
With  many  a  sigh,  and  with  a  reluctance  that 
amounted  nearly  to  agony,  he  relinquished  the 
command  of  the  **  Ann,"  his  beautiful  yacht,  to 
his  old  fatherly  friend,  Giles  Grimm,  conscien- 
tiously believing  that,  of  the  two^  Giles  possessed 
the  happier  lot.  He  endeavoured  to  find  some 
consolation  in  increasing  the  crew,  and  in  giving 
his  commander  strict  injunctions  to  spare  no 
expense  in  making  his  boat  the  crack  craft  on 
the  river.  We  hardly  need  say  that  he  tried 
for  the  victory  in  all  sailing  matches  below 
bridge,  won  many  of  them,  and  on  these  occa- 
sions always  took  the  helm  himself. 

Sir  John  took  possession  of  his  town  house  in 
Cavendish  Square,  much  to  the  dismay  and 
confusion  of  the  steward,  and  those  inestimable 
characters  who  make  brilliant  the  servants^  halL 
Jack  admonished  them  in  excellent  quarter- 
deck language,  and  they  discovered  that  if 
they  felt  inclined  not  to  perform  their  duty  with 


JAOK  ASflO]t£.  251 

diligence  to  himself  and  his  friends,  and  with 
courtesy  to  strangers,  they  had  better  enter 
their  names  upon  the  books  of  another  ship^ 

Sir  John,  for  the  present,  gave  it  out  that  he 
intended  to  receive  no  company,  and  to  visit 
none.  He  had  become  an  object  of  the  greatest 
curiosity,  which  was  greatly  increased  by  the 
life  of  seclusion  that  he  led.  He  had  very  little 
to  do  in  surrounding  himself  with  all  that  was 
necessary,  for  all  the  furniture  that  was  not 
heirloom  he  purchased  of  Sir  Edward,  as  well 
as  his  equipages  and  horses. 

The  only  incident  that  we  shall  mention  in  his 
quiet tenorof  life,  happened  when  the  Stults  of  the 
day  called  upon  him  with  some  brilliant  specimens 
of  his  art,  in  order  to  try  them  on;  and  the  person 
who  brought  the  bundle  was  the  identical  little 
gentleman  whom  Jack  had  pitched  through  the 
window  at  the  inn.  This  j-enoontre  made  the 
man  civil  for  life,  notwithstanding  that  he  was 
^^  by  trade  a  tailor/'  The  reader  must  bear  in 
mind  that  no  ^man  ever  yet  reached  that  state 
of  degradation  that  would  make  him  confess 


352  JACK  ABHOBE. 

himself  a  tailor  simply  and  naturally ;  he  is  a 
tailor,  it  is  true-— but  only  by  trade. 

Mrs.  Snowdrop  and  her  daughter  Susan  bad 
paid  their  visit  to  town ;  the  mother  bad  secured 
the  bulk  of  her  fortune  to  her  daughter,  and 
the  latter  had  been  judiciously  placed  in  an 
establishment  where  all  that  is  useful  might, 
all  that  is  ornamental  must,  be  acquired. 
Susan  accomplished  both.  All  these  arrange- 
ments were  made  without  the  young  lady  having 
had  the  opportunity  of  thanking  Sir  John  in 
person,  who  paid  the  expense^  or  Sir  Edward, 
who  had  carried  them  into  effect.  We  must 
take  leave  of  her  for  the  space  of  more  than  a 
year,  being  well  assured  that  she  will  not 
neglect  the  glorious  opportunities  afforded  her, 
of  becoming  as  an  accomplished  young  lady  of 
her  age  as  any  of  whom  this  accomplished  me- 
tropolis could  boast. 

Sir  John  had  been  used  to  discipline,  and  be 
naturally  possessed  perseverance,  and  great 
powers  of  endurance— and  endure  he  did.  Mas- 
ter succeeded  master,  until  he  had  learned  to 


JACK   ASHORE.  253 

distinguish  each  one  of  the  fifteen  that  attended 
him,  by  his  peculiar  rap  at  the  door.  The  weari* 
some  individuals !  Notwithstanding  that  they 
possessed  that  which  Jack  was  so  desirous  of 
acquiring  but  an  humble  share  of,  he  despised 
them  heartily.  He  condemned  their  pedantry, 
be  abhorred  their  meanness,  and  was  thoroughly 
disgusted  with  their  sycophancy.  They  were 
all,  of  course,  procured  by  Sir  Edward,  and  some 
of  them  returned  to  him  bitterly  complaining. 

The  first  fencing-master  Jack  had  so  thrashed, 
so  pummelled  bis  ribs  by  successful  lounges  in 
tierce  and  quarte*  and  so  seamed  his  face  by  cut 
over  thrust,  that  the  man  actually  was  afraid 
to  meet  him  the  third  time,  and  another  was 
substituted,  who  was  esteemed  as  a  superior 
player  and  a  harder  hitter.  He  fared  still 
worse.  He  was  rather  arrogant,  and  a  Norman. 
He  roused  Jack'^s  mettle  by  driving  at  him  a 
little  savagely,  perhaps  in  order  to  tame  bin 
pupil,  to  begin  with — perhaps  to  give  him  a 
favourable  opinion  of  his  vigour  and  science— 
and  perhaps  to  convince  him  that  Jack  was  not 
the  proficient  he  fancied  himself.   Now  Sir  John 


854  JACK   ASHOBE. 

bad  been  taught  this  particular  science  of  the 
small  sword  in  all  parts  of  the  world — be  had 
become  attached  to  it--and,  neglecting  all  the 
graceful,  had  studied  only  the  effective.  He 
bad  a  great  length  of  arm,  and  about  ten  times 
the  vigour  of  muscle  of  his  master,  who  pressed 
upon  him  more  earnestly  than  was  requisite; 
and  though  he  could  not  touch  him,  he  made 
use  of  some  ill-natured  sarcasms  upon  the  un- 
gainly manner  in  which  he  made  his  parries. 

Monsieur  Lescrimant  grew  enraged  at  this 
impunity  from  his  most  scientific  and  vigorous 
assaults ;  so,  summoning  all  his  vigour,  he  ex- 
pended it  in  one  vengeful  thrust,  which  Jack 
coolly  put  aside  with  a  wrenching  half-circle, 
that  nearly  twisted  the  man's  arm  out  of  the 
socket  of  the  shoulder. 

<<  Sacr^  nom  de  Dieu  I  que  vous  £tes  bSte.** 

**  What's  that.  Monsieur  Crappo  ?  bate  !  it's 
you  thafs  bate;  look  out,  my  fine  fellow!'* 
said  Jack,  firing  up-Hind  a  terriUe  thrust  he 
made. 

The  parry  of  the  master  was  correctly 
scientific,  but  his  arm  had  not  the  nerve  to 


JACK   A8H0BE.  25^ 

ward  the  blow — it  merely  changed  its  direction, 
and  taking  a  higher  course,  struck  the  wire 
mask,  the  button  was  snapped  off,  and  the  foil 
entered  the  parchment  check  of  the  Frenchman 
on  one  side,  and  passed  out  on  the  other.  Sir 
John  had  to  cure  him,  and  afterwards  made 
him  a  pecuniary  compensation — ^but  Monsieur 
declined  giving  him  lessons  for  the  future. 

Sir  Edward  called  upon  his  cousin  to  remon- 
strate upon  his  violence,  and  then  our  hero 
heard,  for  the  first  time^  with  unfeigned  sur- 
prise, that  he  was  to  learn  to  fence,  not  to  en- 
able him  to  defend  himself,  or  to  offend  an 
adversary,  but  merely  that  he  might  acquire 
the  graces  of  position,  the  elegance  of  attitude, 
and  the  deportment  of  a  gentleman.  The  third 
fencing-master  found  him  as  docile  as  a  tamed 
husband. 

^  They  might  have  told  me  so  at  first,^  said 
Jack,  **and  saved  the  foils.  However,  it  has  been 
of  some  benefit  to  Monsieur  Lescrimant,  as  it  has 
given  him  a  dimple  on  each  of  his  parchment 
chops.     He  was  as  ugly  as  a  mad  dog  before. 


256  JACK   ASHORE. 

and  DOW  he's  improved   to  a  baboon  on  the 
broad  grin.* 

The  broadsword  was  then  the  fashion,  but  as 
Jack  knew  that  this  was  taught  for  what  it 
really  indicated,  he  punctually  broke  the  heada 
of  all  his  masters  at  the  first  lesson ;  so  there 
were  none  found  who  would  undertake  to  conn 
plete  him  in  that  branch  of  the  art  of  self-de» 
fence.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  men  with  bruised 
limbs  and  bandaged  heads  assert  that  Jack 
knew  no  more  about  the  matter  than  a  baby. 

The  greatest  praise  that  Sir  John  could  ex* 
tort  from  his  English  master  was  that  of  pos- 
sessing an  excellent  will.  Jack  loathed  the 
very  sight  of  him.  But  he  hammered  over  his 
lessons  fasting  and  full — half  asleep  and  wake- 
ful— ^in  good  and  bad  temper — with  an  industry 
and  a  zeal  that  deserved  a  better  success.  Both 
master  and  pupil  looked  upon  his  orthography 
with  blank  despair*  As  the  former  could  give 
no  reason  why  believe  and  receive  were  differ- 
ently spelled,  the  latter  thought  the  rules  of 
orthography  more  arbitrary  than  the  Russian 


JACK   A8H0RK.  *257 

articles  of  war ;  and  as  he  had  no  other  guide 
but  memory  and  sound — ^for  all  rules  depending 
upon  derivation  were  out  of  the  question — bis 
improvement  in  spelling  was  as  limited  as 
anything  in  the  world  that  can  boast  of  limits. 

Dreadful  and  certain  were  the  cramps  in  bis 
fists,  in  improving  his  hand.     This  obstacle  to 
advancement  he  overcame  in  time,  and  wrote  in 
a  tolerable  character.     He  came  on  in  arith- 
metic very  kindly,  and  made  considerable  pro- 
gress in  drawing.    The  returns  for  his  applica- 
tion in  the  French  language  were  nil;  and  the 
Latin  elicited  some  of  the  most  dreadful  and  new- 
fangled  oaths  that   spite  ever  discharged,  and 
ingenuity  ever  invented.    But  his  good  cousin 
wished  it— -so  he  thumbed  his  Eton  grammar, 
and  swore  on. 

He  took  lessons  in  chess  regularly,  which 
was  a.  great  relief  to  him,  and  he  became  an 
excellent  player;  nor  had  his  mathematical 
master  any  cause  to  complain  of  him.  A  pro- 
fessor of  chemistry  attended  him  three  times  a 
week,  in  order  to  give  him  a  general  notion  of 
that  science,  which  was  just  then  a  staple  in 
fashionable  conversation. 


\ 


258  JACK  ASHORE* 

Buty  amongst  his  annoyances.  Jack  found 
some  pleasures.  His  music-master  was  in  rap- 
tures with  his  great  talents;  and  though  he  ex- 
perienced, at  first,  much  difficulty  in  reducing 
Sir  John's  genius  into  the  necessary  trammels 
of  art,  when  that  was  accomplished  there  was 
every  prospect,  not  only  of  his  becoming 
a  first-rate  performer,  but  a  gifted  composer 
also. 

In  Jack's  own  language,  every  lesson  he  had 
to  battle  the  watch  with  his  dancing-master; 
but  we  must  suppose  the  dancing-master  at 
last  conquered,  for  Sir  John  ultimately  could 
restrain  his  natural  activity  so  much  as  to  walk 
a  minuet  with  accuracy  and  grace. 

In  addition  to  all  these  studies,  he  took  pri* 
vate  lessons  in  riding  and  driving ;  and,  as  this 
was  the  reign  of  Mendoza,  and  the  Prince  of 
Wales  of  the  time  patronised  boxing.  Sir  John 
would  willingly  have  received  a  course  of  lessons 
in  what  is  called  by  its  admirers  the  **  noble  art 
of  self-defence.''  But  the  professors  had  enough 
of  Jack  in  their  first  lesson  each ;  for  he  so  be- 
whacked  them,  and  be-pummelled  them,  not  with- 


JACK  ASHORE.  359 

•tanding  the  gloves,  that,  with  bandaged  heads 
and  blackened  eyes,  they  all  declared  that  he 
was  unteachable,  and  had  not  the  least  requisite 
to  become  a  pugilist. 

The  minor  graces  were  not  forgotten,  for  our 
hero  took  forty-three  lessons,  and  an  introduce 
tory  dissertation,  in  the  science  of  gracefully 
picking  his  teeth.  This  may  be  doubted  by 
the  young  of  the  present  refined  generation, 
but  their  papas  thought  that  everything  that 
was  worth  doing  was  worth  doing  well. 

Many  a  time  within  the  hour,  and  for  hours 
together,  did  Sir  John  long  for  the  fresh  breeze 
upon  his  forehead,  upon  his  own  natural  ds^ 
main,  the  forecastle.  Often,  when  exhausted 
and  disgusted  with  his  indefatigable  attempts 
to  make  himself  a  gentleman,  would  he  have 
compounded  gladly  for  a  middle  watch  in  a 
tempestuous  night,  and  the  ship  trying  it 
under  storm  staysails.  Gladly  would  he  have 
exchanged  his  Eton  grammar  and  his  Gradus 
for  the  lead  and  the  lee-mainchains,  though 
the  line  might  be '  encrusted  with  ice,  the 
ship  gunnel  under,  and  the  captain  in  an  ill 


260  JACK  ASHOBE. 

humour.  But  he  was  determined  to  persevere 
to  give  it  a  fair  trial,  and  then,  said  he,  <*  If  I 
can't  weather  baronet  point,  why,  ifs  up  helm, 
shiver  the  after-sails,  and  bear  away  for  the 
blue  jacket  and  the  tarry  trousers.*^ 

Now  it  happened  that  this  very  sentiment,* 
exactly  thus  expressed,  was  one  day  overheard 
by  his  master  in  elocution,  and  very  severe 
indeed  was  the  reprimand  that  followed.  Jack 
was  all  humility,  but  he  thought  it  a  much 
worse  tyranny  than  ever  was  exercised  by  the 
most  tyrannical  po8t*captain  that  was  ever 
made  unbearable  by  that  worst  of  combina- 
tions, idleness  joined  to  ill-nature. 

How  heroical  was  the  martyrdom  of  our 
hero,  may  be,  in  some  little,  understood, 
when  it  is  known  that  he  had  totally  abstained 
from  Smoking  and  chewing  tobacco,  and  from 
drinking  anything  stronger  than  the  lightest 
French  wines.  Excepting  when  he  rode  or 
walked  for  exercise,  he  never  left  the  house, 
and  it  was  sealed  against  all  visiters,  with 
the  exception  of  Sir  Edward  and  Mr.  Single- 
heart.      Everything,    with    these    limitations. 


JACK   AfiHOBE»  261 

was  made  as  comfortable  to  him  as  possible* 
A  clever,  humble,  young  person  was  installed 
as  his  amanuensis,  and  so  quiet  was  he  in  his 
deportment,  and  so  amiable  in  his  manners, 
that  Sir  John  had  need  of  all  his  fortitude,  and 
the  cautionary  eloquence  of  Sir  Edward,  to 
prevent  himself  from  making  him  his  gossip 
and  his  familiar  friend.  During  this  period, 
female  society  he  had  none,  and  both  the  lawyer 
and  Sir  Edward  had  great  misgivings,  that 
some  fine  day,  either  Jack's  cook  or  his  house* 
maid  might  be  introduced  to  them  as  my  Lady 
Truepenny* 

Many,  and  most  ingenious,  were  the  attempts 
made  upon  our  hero's  acquaintance,  but  they 
all  proved  unsuccessful*  All  letters  were  an- 
swered by  Mr.  Hawkins,  the  amanuensis,  to  the 
effect,  that,  for  the  present  it  was  Sir  John  True- 
penny^s  intention  to  remain  in  perfect  seclusion ; 
and  personal  applications  were  met  in  the 
same  manner.  Jack  was  always  at  home,  but 
never  visible,  with  the  exceptions  before  stated. 

Many  were  the  bribes  that  were  resisted  by  the 
conscientious  amanuensis  to  procure  for  appli* 


868  JACK  A8HOEE. 

cants  only  one  little  half*hour^8  interview  with 
the  eccentric  baronet.  No  one  was  more  inde* 
fatigable,  both  by  personal  attendance  and  by 
letter,  than  Mr.  Scrivener.  His  importunity 
became,  at  last,  so  annoying,  that  the  door  was 
closed  against  him,  and  his  letters  were  re- 
turned unopened. 

Three  months  did  Sir  John  persevere  in  this 
discipline.  All  that  were  fashionable  were,  or 
pretended  to  be^  out  of  town ;  but  Sir  John 
visited  none  of  his  estates,  being  kept  in  London 
for  the  sake  of  his  various  masters,  and  wishing 
not  to  appear  before  his  tenants  until  he  had 
rubbed  off  some  of  the  rust  with  which  the 
salt  water  had  so  much  encrusted  him. 

If  any  one  course  of  proceeding  was  more 
calculated  than  another  to  make  of  our  baronet 
a  first«rate  lion,  it  was  that  which  was  adopted 
by  him,  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of  his  high- 
minded  and  disinterested  cousin.  All  manner 
of  exaggerated  rumours  concerning  him  were 
rife^  and  they  were  as  contradictory  as  they 
were  numerous.  One  set  maintained  that  he 
was  a  mere  sea  Caliban,  and  as  drunken  a  swab 


JACK  ASHORS.  S63 

afl  Stefano;  another,  that  he  was  aa  unique 
model  of  marine  heroism — that  he  was  perfect 
in  form,  and  polished  in  manner — that  be  had 
been  an  o£Bcer,  and  was  a  gentleman — and  that 
his  avoidance  of  the  world  was  nothing  more 
than  his  contempt  for  it,  proceeding  from  his 
highly  rational  and  philosophical  character. 

One  very  strong  party  of  female  saints  met 
in  conclave,  and  came  to  an  unanimous  decision 
that  he  must  be  a  heathen — and  such  a  rich 
heathen;    nay,  more — such  a  rich,  unmarried 
heathen.      The  gates  of  heaven,  according  to 
them,  actually  creaked  on  their  hinges  with  pain 
that,  as  yet,  he  had  made  no  effort  to  enter 
them.     They  had  some  thoughts  of  proceeding 
in  a  body  on   a   conversion-crusade  —  indeed, 
the  young  and  the  pretty  strongly  advocated 
this  measure,  and  had  it  not  been  for  some 
squabbles  about  preference,    they  would  have 
boarded  him,  with  the  Whole  Duty  of  Man  in 
one  hand,  and  the  Seceder's  hymn-book  in  the 
other ;  but  they  finally  adopted,  as  a  prelimi- 
nary proceeding,  the  inviting  him  to  a  love- 
feast,    accompanied   by  a  gentle    admonition 
touching  the  narrow  and  strait  path. 


1264  JACK   ASHORE, 

Jack  sent  his  love  to  the  coDcocters  of  th^ 
loye-feast)  and  told  them  that  he  had  no  time 
at  present  for  feasting,  and  still  less  for  love ; 
and,  as  to  getting  into  the  narrow  path,  he 
hoped  that  there  was  elbow-room  in  the  one 
that  led  to  paradise,  or  worse  luck  for  him,  as 
he  had  not  yet  been  able  to  conquer  a  terrible 
roll  in  his  gait 

This  answer,  written  in  Mr.  Hawkins's  best 
hand,  was  seriously  taken  into  consideration. 
The  elderly  saints  thought  it  very  wicked  and 
very  rude,  the  younger  that  it  was  sinful,  but 
funny,  and  that  the  water-bred  baronet  might 
yet,  in  the  character  of  a  sinner  saved,  escape 
the  fire  that  was  hissing  and  roaring  for  all 
those  sinners  that  would  not  be  saved  precisely 
in  their  own  safe  way  of  salvation. 

The  roues,  and  the  whole  and  half-bred  men 
upon  the  town,  whetted  their  tusks,  and  looked 
out  keenly  for  their  prey.  They  said  unceas- 
ingly, the  one  to  the  other,  *^  When  will  he 
come  out  ?**  **  When  will  he  show  ?"  And 
some  of  the  leaders  played  at  hazard  among 
themselves  for  the  first  plucking  of  a  pigeon  so 


JACK  ASHORE.  263 

well  feathered  Inr  the  mean  time.  Sir  John, 
unconscious  of  the  sensation  that  he  was  creat- 
ing, grumbled  and  grew  fat. 

For  our  own  part,  we  do  not  think  that  the 
plan  adopted  for  thus  making  our  saOor  sud- 
denly a  gentleman  was  a  judicious — ^it  certainly 
did  not  prove  a  successful  one.  He  had  the 
rudiments  of  too  many  things  thrust  upon  him  ; 
he  mastered  nothing — ^he  accomplished  but  very 
little ;  he  knew  only  enough  to  know  the  ex- 
tent of  his  own  deficiencies.  This  made  him,  by 
tumsy  bashful  and  impudent ;  it  was  depriving 
him,  in  a  great  measure,  of  the  blunt  honesty 
and  the  amiable  naivete  of  the  sailor,  and  giving 
him  instead  nothing  but  a  mass  of  non-naturals, 
that  destroyed  all  the  simplicity  of  his  charac- 
ter, by  adding  a  little  to  its  refinement,  and  but 
a  very  little  indeed  to  its  elegance. 

This  three  months'  probation  had  made  some 
marked  physical  changes  in  Jack.  He  had 
.become  much  more  corpulent,  and  his  wind  was 
certainly  not  so  good.  His  hands  had  become 
very  soft,  and  excessively  white,  but  they  really 
looked  larger  than  ever — ^perhaps  they  had  par- 

VOL.    II.  N 


266  JACK   ASHORE. 

taken  of  his  general  obesity,  and  their  exqui- 
site colour  made  their  size  the  more  remarkable. 
His  fine  curling  auburn  locks  were  frizzled  into 
fashion  and  deformity,  and  not  a  freckle  or  a 
weather  stain  remained  upon  his  fair  counter 
nance*  It  showed  only  the  purest  red  and  the 
most  delicate  white.  His  teeth,  however,  were 
resplendent.  Upon  the  whole,  he  was  more  of 
a  beauty,  but  less  of  a  beautiful  man.  Silly 
girls  and  luxurious  women  would  have  said 
that  the  change  was  glorious.  But  men,  and 
Jack  himself,  liked  it  not.  Every  morning, 
when  his  valet  had  shaved  him,  and  powdered 
and  made  up  his  head,  our  hero  would  shake  it 
wofuUy  over  the  glass  like  a  dredgin^-^box, 
and  mutter  despiteful  things  about  monkey- 
fied  heads  being  thrust  for  a  spell  into  ^*  the 
mess-cook's  flour-bag." — Nevertheless,  Jack's  a 
gentleman. 


JACK  ASHOBE.  267 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


f  ack  Tindieated— Sir  Edirtrd  males  the  beat  of  a  bad  boii- 

eas— Jack  makes  his  d^bui  before  his  rich  coaaiii-heiresa*^ 

Makes  himself  ^eiy  agreeable,  although  be  g^ves  good  ad- 

Tice — Shows  bow  to  treat  a  fit  of  the  sulks  sticcessftilly^, 

and  does  other  great  things  besides  play  upon  the  iddle. 

Jack's  a  gentleman.  Such  a  gentleman !  Sneer 
not,  ye  mongrels,  who  ruin  tradesmen,  and  who 
would  ruin  yourselves,  had  you  anything  worth 
ruin  to  prey  upon.  In  all  the  intrinsic  essen- 
tials, Jack  was  a  g^tleman ;  but  much  more 
so  before  he  attenlpted  to  clothe  himself  with  the 
vile  artificials  that  make  the  current  gentlemen 
of  the  day.  In  his  rough  dress,  on  the  foi^ 
castle  of  the  man-of-war,  the  spirit  of  the  gen- 

n2 


268  JACK   ASHOBE. 

ilemati  was  strong  within  bim.  He  scorned  a 
dirty  act,  simply  because  it  was  dirty.  Among 
seamen  be  was  tbe  foremost,  yet  be  was  never 
arrogant ;  in  bis  own  circle,  always  ready  to 
protect  tbe  weak,  to  repel  tbe  aggressor,  and 
to  stand  up  manfully  against  oppression.  He  was 
generous,  in  a  station  where  tbe  exercise  of  the 
least  generosity  brought  with  it  its  concomitant 
privation;  for  when  he  gave,  be  gave  almost 
bis  all — and  he  was  continually  giving.  Bene* 
ficent  peers — almsgiving  bishops  —  munificent 
millionairefr— did  your  giving  ever  deprive  you 
of  the  whole,  or  even  the  half  of  your  dinners  ? 
When  the  benevolence  of  any  of  you  sends  you 
to  bed  supperless,  take  great  glory  to  your- 
selves, and  say  that  you  are  **  as  generous  as 
Jack." 

And  sailor  Jack  was  very  polite  too.  So  at- 
tentive to  the  wants,  so  considerate  for  the  self- 
love  of  others.  His  was  not  the  humility  of 
ostentation.  He  loved  to  see  everybody  in 
his  place,  and  himself  in  the  lowest  And  his 
was  a  self-denial  so  beautiful.  His  song  was, 
among  five  hundred  men,    allowed  to  be  tbe 


JACK   ASHORE.  269 

best,  and  he  sang  it  gladly  when  it  was  asked 
for ;  but  was  more  gladly  silent  when  others 
sang.  When  he  said  that  Bill  Bobstay  sang 
**  Sweet's  the  ship  that's  under  sail  ^  better 
than  himself,  he  was  believed  —  no  one  ever 
dreamed  that  he  would  disparage  himself  in 
order  to  bait  for  praise.  Jack  was  never  known 
to  lie ;  he  was  a  gentleman,  though  he  would 
get  drunk,  chew  tobacco^  and  had  been  flogged 
— «till  we  say,  that  on  the  forecastle  Jack  was  a 
gentleman. 

And  Jack  is  now  a  gentleman  on  shore,  but 
not  so  excellent  an  one,  because  not  so  natural. 
With  his  new  coating  of  gentility  he  had  slipped 
on  some  flimsy  affectations,  very  recommenda- 
tory to  his  present  associates.  But  never  mind — 
his  three  months'  probation  is  over,  and  Sir 
Edward  pronounced  him  to  be — a  little  more 
of  the  gentleman. 

To  Sir  Edward  Fortintower  it  is  now  our 
duty  to  return.  He  was  a  strong,  but  very  far 
from  being  a  perfect  character.  It  was  very 
doubtful  whether  he  would  not  have  contested 
the  inheritance  with  Jack,  inch  by  inch,  and 


270  JACK   A8HOfiK. 

yemr  by  yeir,  had  it  not  been  for  the  iofluenoe 
which  his  mistress  had  exercised  over  hinL 
Having  resolved  to  perform  the  noble  part,  he 
had  a  great  deal  too  much  sense  not  to  perceiye 
that  such  a  part  could  not  be  successfully  acted 
by  halves.  Id  real  generosity  there  is  no 
compromise — ^magnanimity  admits  of  no  me- 
dium* 

But  this  sacrifice  pressed  heavily  on  his 
heart.  His  regrets  were  unceasing.  He  had 
naturalised  himself  as  a  man  of  great  wealth 
and  commanding  influence,  and  his  falling  away 
into  poverty  and  comparative  insignificance 
corroded  his  spirits.  Perhaps  his  virtue  was 
the  greater,  in  proportion  to  the  pain  it 
caused  him  to  endure.  Certainly,  in  the  com- 
mon acceptation  of  the  word,  he  was  not 
herdcaL  He  did  a  great  act  of  justice ;  he  did 
it  manfully,  and  thoroughly,  but  he  did  not  do 
it  gladly. 

He  had  need  of  all  the  consolations — of  all  the 
tenderness  of  his  beloved,  to  stimulate  him  to  this 
trial,  and  to  support  him  afterwards.  At  first, 
Anne  Truepenny  was  much  grieved  to  find  that 


JACK   ASHORE*  271 

this  self-abandoDiaeDt  of  the  pomp  and  circum- 
stanoe  of  life  was  an  ordeal  so  bitter  to  her  be- 
trothed ;  but  she  afterwards  considered  that  it 
was  more  noble  to  walk  through  the  fire  when 
the  flesh  shrank  and  the  nerves  quivered  under 
the  flamesy  than  when  so  covered  with  the  armour 
of  rectitude,  and  so  safe  under  the  shield  of 
higfa-mindednessy  that  they  might  curl  around 
harmlessly. 

In  his  present  strait,  Sir  Edward  acted  with 
consummate  prudence.  He  took  the  most 
scrupulous  care  that  his  five  hundred  a  year 
was  well  secured  to  him.  He  sold  everything 
not  belonging  to  the  inheritance,  to  his  more 
fortunate  cousin,  for  quite  its  full  value.  He 
immediately  entered  himself  for  the  bar.  He 
went  into  private  lodgings  on  a  second  floor ; 
and,  after  a  little  amiable  coquetting  with  the 
minister,  upon  an  understanding  that  he  was, 
for  the  next  parliament,  to  be  brought  in  for 
one  of  the  close  boroughs,  he  gave  his  adhesion 
to  the  party  in  power,  and  was  rewarded  with 
a  sinecure  of  seven  hundred  a  year. 

This  could  not  have  been  called  ratting ;  for 


272  JACK   ASHOBE. 

in  the  days  of  his  affluencei  he  had  voted  as  often 

for  as  against  the  ministry.    But  it  was  oer- 

ft 

tainly  the  knell  of  his  independence.  He  was 
no  longer  listened  to  in  the  house,  and  had  no 
further  any  trouble  in  hearings  seeing,  and 
judging  for  himself. 

At  the  time  he  was  about  to  relieve  Jack 
from  his  embargo,  produce  him  to  the  world, 
and  then  permit  him  to  shift  for  himself,  his 
income  was  about  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  and 
his  expenses  within  one  hundred.  But  of  this, 
seven  hundred  were  enjoyed  only  during  the 
minister's  pleasure,  and  was  contingent  on  the 
stability  of  the  party  then  in  power.  This 
was  very  precarious,  as  lately  the  opposition 
,had  made  head  considerably.  But,  at  the 
worst.  Sir  Edward  might  still  consider  himself 
.  as  a  man  of  property. 

Much  to  his  satisfaction,  and  not  a  little  to  his 
astonishment,  he  did  not  lose  caste  among  bis 
friends  and  acquaintance.  They  observed  the 
prudent  course  of  his  actions,  the  unbounded 
influence  that  he  exercised  over  his  cousin; 
they  more  than  tripled,  in  their  opinion,  his 


JACK   A8H0RR.  273 

private  resoureefly  imd  looked  upon  him,  de- 
cidedly, as  a  rising  young  man.  No  one  doubted 
but  that  he  would,  one  day,  marry  the  great 
heiress;  and  being  still  a  senator  and  a  baronet, 
in  the  outward  demeanour  of  all  men  and 
women  he  was  still  the  courted  guest,  and  the 
vaunted  acquaintance. 

Now,  as  he  had  fulfilled  every  stipulation, 
not  only  in  spirit  but  to  the  very  letter,  he 
called  upon  Miss  Truepenny  for  the  perform- 
ance of  her  part  of  the  contract,  which  was  to 
endeavour  to  prevail  upon  her  grandfather  to 
join  her  in  a  petition  to  the  Lord  Chancellor 
to  set  aside^  by  a  decree,  what  they  both  now 
thought  the  very  absurd  provisions  of  her  an* 
oestor*s  will. 

This  was  the  most  delicate  as  well  as  the 
most  difficult  undertaking  that  two  young  lovers 
could  have  proposed  to  themselves.  But  Anne 
was  not  the  person  to  flinch  from  what  she  now 
considered  to  be  a  sacred  duty.  Owing  to  the 
very  great  age  and  infirmities  of  her  grand- 
father^  they  had  decided  that  they  should  make 

K  5 


874  JACK   ASHOBE. 

one  great  trial  for  his  conseDty  and  thus  avoid 
wearying  him  by  a  oontiDued  application. 

He  had  already  been  made  acquainted  that 
a  nearer  person  to  the  honours  of  the  house  to 
be  resuscitated  into  grandeur  had  been  dis- 
covered, and  that  thus,  in  the  person  of  Sir 
Edward,  the  intent  of  the  famous  will  could 
not  be  accomplished.  He  had  received  this 
intimation  with  the  calmness  usual  to  his 
character.  He  bad  made  no  remark  upon  it, 
but  seemed  saddened  to  a  very  great  degree, 
for  one  who,  like  himself,  had  long  ceased  to 
give  expression  to  any  emotion.  Ever  since 
this  intimation  he  had  drooped,  but  without 
any  marked  ailment,  or  any  complaint  issuing 
from  his  passive  lips. 

It  was  on  the  first  day  of  October  that  this 
great  question  was  to  be  tried  between  age 
and  youth,  prejudice  and  passion.  Sir  Edward 
had  been  with  Sir  John  as  early  as  nine  o^clock. 
Mr.  Singlebeart  had  accompanied  him.  The  first 
part  of  the  interview  was  passed  in  that  which, 
disguise  it  under  what  name  you  choose,  was 


JACK  ABHOBE,  275 

.really  an  examination  into  Jack's  progress  in 
schooling.  It  was  done  with  all  manner  of  de- 
licacy, but  it  was  done  effectually.  Upon  some 
of  these  studies  they  praised  his  progress,  in  all 
bis  perseverance.  They  also  perceived  an  un- 
equivocal alteration  in  his  manners ;  but  whe- 
ther this  were  a  subject  of  congratulation,  or 
the  contrary,  both  the  examiners  hesitated  to 
pronounce. 

Whatever  might  be  their  opinion,  nothing 
but  the  greatest  and  the  most  sincere  cordiality 
then  subsisted  between  alt  the  parties. 

They  next  proceeded  to  make  Jack  thoroughly 
cognizant  of  all  the  matters  relative  to  Sir  Ed- 
ward, Anne,  and  himself;  and,  finally,  the  great 

object  the  two  lovers  had  in  view,  and  that  on 

« 

that  very  day  they  intended  to  see  what  could 
be  effected.  His  presence,  they  informed  him, 
would  be  most  essential. 

Jack  heard  it  all  with  deep  attention,  and 
when  he  fully  comprehended  all  the  bearings  of 
the  case^  he  was  seriously  afflicted. 

**  Cousin,^  said  he,  **  you  have  been  doing 
your  best  to  gentlemanize  me.     God  knows  it 


276  JACK   A8UORK. 

has  been  a  wearisome  job  to  me  —  working 
against  wind  and  tide — ^foggy  weather — ^and  all 
hands  on  deck  constantly.  Whether  I  have 
made  much  headway,  you  are  the  best  judges. 
What  Fve  gained  on  one  tack,  I'm  thinking 
Fve  lost  on  t'^otber.  I'm  like  a  long  nine  over- 
loaded. They've  rammed  home  wad  and  shot 
till  they've  punched  all  the  powder  out  of  me, 
and  it's  a  doubt  to  me  if  ever  I  shall,  be  able  to 
go  off  at  alL  But  thankye,  cousin,  all  the  same 
— and  again,  again,  dear  cousin — for  an  honester 
fellow  I  never  fell  athwart  hause  of  before. 
You  see  I  can't  hurt  you  by  my  grip  now— 
my  hands  are  as  tender  as  the  rump  of  a  new- 
skinned  pig,  but  my  hearf  s  as  tough  and  as 
true  as  ever,  and  you  shall  have  the  girl — if 
watching  and  working  will  do  it%-8o  let*s  go 
to  the  old  commodore  and  give  him  a  broadside 
to  that  tune.** 

**  Your  honesty  and  goodness  of  heart  I 
never  doubted,  John.  But  we  must  be  very 
gentle  here.  Old  Mr.  Truepenny  is  actuated 
by  feelings  of  which  you  can  form  no  idea. 
You  are  the  very  man  that  this  absurd  will 


JACK   A8UOKE.  277 

ooDtemplated.  Will  you  take  the  lady  and  the 
fortune  ?     They  will  both  be  offered  to  you.** 

**  May  I  be  d*  d  heartily  and  everlastingly 
if  I  do  !  No  offence  to  your  sweetheart,  cousin. 
Why  not  take  all  this  cursed  fortune  you 
gave  me? — only  leave  me  that  beauty  of  a 
yacht,  with  bub  and  grub,  and  Jack^s  content." 

*'  But  it  won't  do*  John.  You  represent  the 
dder  branch  of  the  family,  and  it  must  be 
in  you  that  the  honours  of  the  family  are  re- 
vived. An  intermarriage  with  any  but  the  head 
of  the  Fortintower  family  would  take  away  all 
the  benefit  of  the  will ;  and,  though  we  both 
derive  from  females,  you  inherit  by  the  elder 
branch.  I  think  I  haixe,  more  than  once,  made 
that  clear  to  you  by  our  genealogical  tree." 

'*  Why  yes,  cousin.  But  that  jennylogical 
tree  seems  to  be  all  dead  wood.  It  looks  like 
so  many  blocks,  newly  painted  and  varnished, 
bung  out  upon  lines  to  dry  one  under  the 
other ;  and  if  so  be  I'm  the  head  of  the  family, 
why  it'^s  more  a  block  than  before^  for  I  sar- 
tainly  believe,  notwithstanding  all  my  learning, 
that  a  blockhead  I  was  bom,  and  a  blockhead 


278  JACK  ASHORE. 

I  shall  die.  But  let  us  come  to  the  point,  and 
then  well  luff  up  and  haul  round  it  if  we  can. 
It  seems  that  I  am  a  branch  of  this  ginnyjogical 
tree." 

*'  Genealogical." 

*<  Well,  well,  jennydogical  let  it  be.  Now, 
seeing  as  how  that  I  am  a  young  man,  you 
can't  expect,  cousin,  that  I  should  commit 
suicide^  and  hang  myself  upon  my  own  branch 
of  this  here  tree ;  but  anything  short  of  felo  do 
you  see  I'll  do,  for  I  am  plaguily  in  your  way, 
surely." 

**  Well,  Sir  John,  I  certainly  cannot  expect 
that  you  would  jump  down  your  own  throat — 
but  well  just  jump  into  your  carriage,  take  up 
Miss  Truepenny,  and  then  see  how  the  land 
lies  ?  Is  that  the  right  expression,  John  ?*^ 

^  That  is  as  it  may  be ;  if  it  is  low  land 
you're  loooking  out  for — why,  you  may  ax — ask 
I  mean — how  it  lies ;  but  if  the  land  is  high, 
like  Beachy-head,  you  thould  say  looms.  But 
I  believe,  while  I  pity  his  ignorance,  that  it  is 
as  hard  to  make  a  sailor  of  a  landsman  as  to  pur- 
fessional  niceties,  03  it  is  to  transmogrificate  me 
into  a  gentleman.** 


JACK   ASHORE.  279 

The  party  then  repaired  to  Harley  Street, 
and  Sir  John  was  introduced  with  due  form  to 
Miss  Truepenny.  The  baronet  placed  himself 
in  the  fifth  position,  then  threw  his  right  leg 
out  into  the  second,  then  drew  himself  up  into 
the  first,  and  dropped  the  lady  one  of  the 
lowest  and  slowest  bows  that  ever  was  offered 
at  the  shrine  of  beauty.  All  present  kept  their 
countenances  admirably.  It  was  evident  that 
the  dancing-master  had  been  abroad,  and 
that  at  the  minuet-bow  his  pupil  was  quite  at 
home. 

Miss  Truepenny,  notwithstanding  she  was 
prepared  to  see  a  handsome  young  man,  was 
positively  surprised  at  beholding  so  perfect  and 
so  blooming  a  specimen  of  humanity.  For  one 
moment,  on  beholding  her.  Jack  forgot  both 
Poll  and  Sue,  and  the  next  he  thought  of  them 
both,  and  muttered — **  Blest  if  she  ain't  more 
of  an  angel  than  Susan,  and,  as  a  woman,  more 
of  a  beauty  than  Poll." 

*^  What  were  you  pleased  to  observe.  Sir 
John  Truepenny  ?*'  said  the  young  laay,  in  a 
tone,  which,  while  it  strongly  reminded  him  of 


280  Jack  ashore. 

Susan's,  possessed  a  more  faultless  modulation, 
and  made  his  nerves  tingle  to  his  fingers*  endti 
for  Jack  was  an  enthusiast  in  music. 

"  Madame — Miss  Truepenny — ^marm — I  was 
only  thinking  a  thing  that  perhaps  it  would  he 
rude  in  me  to  say,  and  yet  there  was  no  harm 
in  it  either.^ 

**  Then  by  all  means  oblige  me  by  saying 
it»*'  said  the  lady. 

^  Saying  it,  madam,  is  easily  said ;  but  how 
am  I  to  do  that  ?  I  am  like  a  chimney-sweep 
on  May-day,  I  have  a  little  tinsel  and  gold  leaf, 
and  a  few  bows  of  ribbon  put  over  my  natural 
self — so  Fm  neither  one  thing  nor  t'other.  If 
you  ask  me  as  a  gentleman  with  three  months' 
learning,  I  should  stumble  at  every  third  word ; 
if  as  a  sailor,  I  could  pour  in  my  answer  like 
a  well-delivered  broadside,  point  blank;  but 
then  it  would  be  all  too  rude  and  uncouth  for 
your  delicate  ears.  I  cannot  open  my  mind  to 
you  becomingly." 

^*  Speak  it  as  a  sailor.  Sir  John  ;  and  more 
gracefully,  more  becomingly  you  cannot  speak. 
In  my  very  heart  I  love  a  sailor." 


JACK   ASHORE.  281 


c< 


Do  you  8o»  miss  ?  then  God  bless  you  for 
that  kind  word,  aud  may  he  that  loves  you  love 
you  with  all  a  sailor^s  honesty  and  sincerity, 
and  then  the  glory  of  the  gentleman  will  be 
something  better  than  mere  moonshine.  But  I 
don't  doubt  him^  madam — I  don't  doubt  him. 
I  was  going  to  say  as  this,  that  if  such  a  sweet 
little  cherub  as  yourself  would  smile  upon  the 
life  of  poor  Jack,  as  the  song  says,  I  would  go 
upon  another  tack  than  cousin  Edward.  If  I 
were  you,  Ned — I  call  you  Ned  for  the  first 
time,  as  I  wishes  to  look  on  you  as  a  brother 
tar — if  I  were  you,  Ned,  I  would  not  stand 
shilly-shaUy  about  this  will,  and  that  will,  and 
t'^other  will — Td  mind  no  other  will  but  my 
own  and  this  dear  lady's — I'd  splice  at  once ; 
and  if  you  hadn't  enough  to  rig  her  out,  dock, 
and  victual  her — and  she  ought  to  be  rigged  out 
like  a  queen,  docked  in  a  palace,  and  victualled 
every  day  with  a  banquet — ^if  I  couldn't  do  all 
this  for  her  without  labour,  I'd  work  my  hands 
off,  and  then  sheM  honour  you  the  more  for  it 
But  the  Lord  love  ye,  innocent  children  as  ye 
are — ^as.if  you  hadnH  a  home  to  go  to,  or  money 


2S2  JACK   ASUOES. 

to  spend ;  there  is  my  town  house,  and  my  two 
country  seats  I  never  saw,  and  my  income  I 
don't  know  how  to  spend.  Splice  I  say,  and 
I  mean  it — I  know  what  I  am  offering,  and 
what  I  am  trying  at — ^I  offer  you  what  seems 
needful  for  your  happiness,  and  Fm  trying  for 
my  own,  I  think  I  shall  fail  at  the  trade  of 
gentleman.  I  should  be  as  happy  as  the  day 
is  long  in  my  yacht,  and  a  snug  little  cottage, 
either  at  Greenwich  or  Gravesend.  It  would 
not  do  to  settle  me  at  a  regular  sea^port ;  the 
temptation  would  be  too  strong — I  should 
be  entering  a  manof-war  again,  either  for  the 
sake  of  an  old  shipmate,  or  for  the  craft's  crack 
rig — or,  perhaps,  for  the  mere  fun  of  the 
thing,  and  that  I  liked  it  Now  for  your 
whimsies  and  your  scruples;  after  all  Pm  but 
an  interloper ;  had  it  not  been  for  a  rogue  of  a 
lawyer,  I  should  still  have  been  coiling  down 
ropes  on  the  fo'castle  of  the  Old  Glory.  Let 
that  pass — but  for  your  scruples — I  won't  make 
you  a  downright  out  and  out  gift  of  my  for- 
tune—I only  ask  you  to  spend  the  greatest  part 
of  my  income  to  keep  up  the  honour  of  the 


JACK  ASHORE.  283 

family.  His  majesty,  Grod  bless  him!  might 
have  told  the  Admiralty  to  make  a  warraot- 
officer  of  me»  but  bell  never  make  me  a  lord ; 
but  here's  Ned— he^s  acute  chap,  sharp  as  a 
nor^aster  in  Janivary,  and  knows  on  which 
side  his  biscuit's  buttered — if  all's  true  as  I 
heai's.'' 

Miss  Morrison,  Miss  Truepenny,  and  the 
lawyer,  gave  way  to  a  hearty  laugh  at  this 
sally,  in  which  Sir  Edward  very  considerately 
joined,  though  be  thought  the  mirth  a  little  too 
much  prolonged. 

^*  Well,  cousin,  you're  a  parliament  man 
already,  and  the  king  made  you  a  baronet  a 
little  while  ago  for  your  own  merit ; — ^as  to  the 
stuff  about  a  vote  in  the  nick  of  time,  that 
must  be  all  gammon.  You've  a  conscience, 
Edward,  and  if  any  lubber  was  to  tell  me  that 
you  voted  against  it,  I'd  punch  his  head — 
that's  all." 

''  But  I  thought,"  said  Sir  Edward,  '<  that 
you  had  led  such  a  life  of  retirement  that 
calumnies  of  this  sort  could  not  have  reached 
you." 


284  JACK   ASHOftK. 

^'  Pooh !  since  IVe  been  ashore  Fve  seen 
more  treachery  in  three  months  in  one  litde 
room,  and  that's  my  study,  than  would  last  a 
fleet  of  twenty  sail  of  the  line  for  twelve  years. 
I  name  no  names,  for  the  poor  devils  can't 
divest  themselves  from  their  nature.  Most  of 
the  masters  you  sent  me  came  like  so  many 
spaniels,  and  first  licking  the  dirt  off  my  shoes, 
began  to  try  it  on  you,  always  beginning  by 
plastering  you  with  praise,  and  then  comes 
their  btU,  So,  at  last,  whenever  they  came  to 
this  infernal  but,  I  made  it  a  rule  just  coolly  to 
give  the  chap  a  dout  on  his  nob,  Many's  the 
squabble  I  have  had  for  your  sake.  I  hope 
this  habit  won't  go  with  me  into  society." 

*'  I  sincerely  hope  not  The  rascals  V  said 
Sir  Edward,  with  just  the  proper  degree  of  vir- 
tuous indignation. 

'*  Now  for  the  rest  of  my  plan.  You  are 
spliced,  and  then  you'll  take  your  pretty  wife 
up  to  the  king,  and  speak  out  boldly,  and  ask 
him  to  make  a  lord  of  you.  Mayhap  hell  say, 
*  You  are  not  rich  enough.'  *  There  I  have 
you  on  the  hip,  your  majesty,'  you^'ll  say.     *  It 


JACK   ASHORE.  285 

is  true  that  an  interloping  son  of  a  gun  of  a 
cousin  of  mine  has  just  stepped  in  between  me 
and  my  estate — ^but  Jack's  a  good  fellow' — ^yes^ 
you  may  go  as  far  as  to  say  that ;  and  then 
you  may  put  in  a  word  about  poor  Poll,  and 
ask  him  not  to  let  her  be  hung;  then  you'll 
crowd  sail  and  go  ahead  by  saying,  <  Jack  and 
I  have  agreed  that  what's  Jack's  is  mine,  and 
what's  mine's  my  own.'  ** 

**  What,  in  those  very  words  ?" 

"  As  near  as  may  be— I  don't  think  you^U 

mend  'em— when  you  want  to  be  understood, 

there's  nothing  like  plain  sailing.    Very  well ; 

then     the    king    will    very    naturally     say, 

^  But  what's  to  become  of  Jack  ?'     Then  you'll 

up  and  tell  him,  '  He's  easily  provided  for — ^a 

thousand  a  year  will  be  the  utmost  he  can 

spend,  and  much  more  than  he  can  spend,  with 

credit,  upon  his  yacht  and  his  cot — for  I  shall 

attend  to  the  pay  and  victualling  department 

myself;  but  I  would  recommend  your  majesty 

to  make  him  a  custom-house  officer — that  would 

give  the  fellow  a  little  to  do,  and  a  very  good 

pretence  for  shoving  his  craft  into  all  manner 


286  JACK   ASHORE. 

of  holes  and  corners,  besides  a  protection  to  his 
little  beauty  and  her  crew.*^ 

"  Very  well  arranged,  friend  Jack." 
^*  His  nmjesty,  in  course,  can't  see  any  objec- 
tion. Then  you  goes  at  him  to  make  you 
the  lord,  and,  in  course,  again  says  he,  <  Well, 
here's  misses  fortune  ^  for  surely,  when  you  are 
a  lord,  that's  all  that  ever  was  required  ;  and, 
to  my  thinking,  I  have  managed  the  whole 
matter  for  you  in  an  upright  and  downright, 
creditable,  shipshape  fashion.  Now  try  and 
mend  it." 

^*  I  canH  make  you  understand,  friend  John, 
that  Miss  Truepenny's  fortune  is  to  be  avail- 
able only  to  the  representative,  the  head,  of  our 
house,  and  that  person  is  yourself.  However, 
we  will  take  time  to  think  over  the  matter ;  for 
we  are  not  going  to  be  so  simple  and  so  hasty 
as  to  accept  forty  thousand  a  year  upon  the 
first  asking.  That  would  be  a  folly,  and  an 
easiness  of  temper  unpardonable.  No,  no,  we 
are  not  to  be  caught  in  that  manner.  In  the 
mean  time,  let  us  go  and  see  what  old  Squire 
Truepenny  has  to  say  on  the  subject" 


JACK   ASHOSK.  287 

"  Not  yet,  my  beloved  Edward^''  said  Miss 
Truepenny ;  ^  my  grandfather  is  never  visible 
until  one  o'clock.  In  the  mean  time,  let  us 
prolong  our  conversation,  for  I  do  assure  you 
I  enjoy  Sir  John's  society  amazingly.  Will 
you  have  the  goodness,  my  dear  sir,  to  make  a 
few  more  arrangements  for  Sir  Edward  and 
myself?  Sir  Edward,  especiaUy^  requires  some 
prudent  person  to  think  for  and  to  advise 
him/' 

'^  No  doubt  of  it,  miss — not  the  least  doubt 
of  it  in  the  world.  No  blame  to  him — none. 
In  course,  as  to  a  parliament  speech,  or  the 
buying  of  a  coach  and  horses,  or  the  handling 
a  coffee-cup,  or  the  backing  and  filling  in  and 
out  of  a  room,  why,  I'm  no  more  to  him  than  a 
jolly-boat  is  to  a  first-rate  ;  but  for  matters  of 
prudence,  and  whafs  to  be  done  in  life,  and  a 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  a  seeing  right 
through  men,  I  think  Jack's  his  master.  Not 
that  rd  undervally  my  cousin's  gumption. 
But  he  has  not  had  the  proper  eddication.  He 
never  served  aboard  a  man-of-war.    For  mat- 


288  JACK   ASHOKE. 

ters  of  business  on  a  large  scale,  give  me  the 
thorough-bred  sailor.** 

**  Sir  John,  Sir  John^  how  can  you  talk  this 
way  ?^  said  his  cousin,  laughing.  <<  How  often 
have  you  confessed  to  me,  that  in  this  world, 
so  new  to  you,  you  are  like  a  babe  in  the 
wood !  Am  I  to  take  instruction  from  babies, 
although  they  may  be  six  feet  high,  and  were 
brought  up  by  the  hand  on  board  of  a  man-of> 
war?'' 

"  Cousin  —  marm  —  Mr.  Singleheart — you 
don't  take  my  meaning.  There's  the  doing  of 
what's  right,  and  the  manner  of  doing  it.  Now, 
this  here's  a  sample — this  pretty  lady — Grod  bless 
her  dove's  eyes! — asks  my  fine  cousin  Edward  to 
give  her  that  music-book  from  t'other  end  of 
the  room.  No  offence,  Ned,  but  ten  to  one, 
yhat  does  he  ?  Why,  first  of  all  he  grins  and 
shows  his  handsome  teeth ;  then  he  lays  the 
broad  of  his  hand  flat  upon  the  lappel  of  his 
coat ;  and  then  drops  you  a  bow,  that,  with 
ducking  down  and  plucking  up,  takes  a  minute 
by  any  glass  in  the  fleet.     That  done,  he  grins 


JACK   ASHOftK.  289 

at  you  again,  and  makes  a  8peech|  svrings  him- 
self round  upon  his  heel,  and  then  makes  sail ; 
be  stops  three  or  four  times  to  compliment  one 
fine  lady,  and  make  a  congee  to  another-«all 
very  beautiful  to  look  at — ^but  miss  wants  the 
book.'' 

*^  Excellent,  my  worthy  Sir  John*-I  do  want 
the  book — ^but  pray  don't  hurry— I  could  listen 
to  you  for  hours.  Well,  he  has  reached  the 
book.*' 

**  Not  yet,  marm  :  first  of  all  he  looks  at  it. 
He  thinks  it  is  rather  dusty,  and  that  puts  him 
in  a  quandary.  He  don't  want  to  spoil  his 
white  kid  gloves — and  he  would  not  dust  it 
himself  for  a  guinea  a  whisk — so  ptrhaps  he 
pulls  the  bell;  and  when  the  servant  comes, 
the  man  looks  round  the  room  like  a  dog  that 
has  lost  his  master  in  the  fair.  All  this  while 
miss  wants  the  book — and  yet,  cousin  is  doing 
the  most  proper  thing  in  the  world.  At  last, 
Sir  Edward  says,  says  he — ^for  he  had  fallen 
into  talk  with  a  big-wig — ^he  says,  <  Oh,  ah, 
Thomas,   yes— true — that — a — ha — book— is  a 

TOL.  II.  o 


290  JACK    ASUOEE. 

little  dusty — ^not  fit  to  be  handled— heh  ?^  So 
the  roan  travels  down  stairs  for  summut,  and 
the  book  is  polished;  and,  by  this  time,  if 
Ned  hasn't  forgot  all  about  it,  he  says,  very 
composedly,  *  Just  take  that  book  to  your 
mistress.^ 

"  No,  no — I  protest,**  said  Sir  Edward,  a 
little  annoyed  at  Jack's  successful  attempt  at 
mimickry. 

**  Yes,  yes — the  thing  has  happened  to  me 
often,*'  said  Anne,  excessively  amused.  '*  Now, 
my  exquisite  Sir  John,  let's  hear  how  the  man- 
of-war's  man  would  do  it.^ 

"  Do  it,  miss,— before  you  could  say  *  do  it,* 
it  would  be  done.  Off  like  a  shot,  and  back 
as  quick  and  as  straight  as  an  arrow.*** 

*^  But  the  book  is  dirty,  you  know.** 

''  What  o*  that  ?  If  it  was  as  dirty  as  a" 
lawyer's  conscience  —  uo  offence,  Mr.  Single- 
heart— he  would  polish  it  with  the  tail  of  his 
coat  as  clean  as  a  bone  when  the  ship*s  company 
is  six  upon  four,  before  he  placed  it  in  the 
lady's  pretty  hands.** 


JACK   ASHOEB.  291 

^'  Now  for  the  applicatiou^  Sir  John — that 
is,  how  does  this  bear  upon  the  business  of 
life?*^  said  the  lady. 

**  How  does  it  bear?  point  blank  upon  it. 
The  real  downright  business  of  life  isnH  so 
much  as  you  think — it  is  made  up  of  a  few  prin- 
cipal acts — so  all  you  have  to  do^  is  to  do  them 
right,  and  do  it  quickly — go  right  an  end  on  for 
what's  proper — don't  stop  for  the  shilly-shally, 
the  bowing  and  grinning,  and  the  posturing,  to 
make  people  stare.  Now  I'll  tell  ye  why,  with 
all  my  knowledge  of  the  world,  Tm  like  a  babe 
in  the  wood — ^because  this  long-shore  world  is 
a  world  of  little  things,  where  the  manner  of 
doing  trifles  is  everything — ^all  seeming,  marm 
— all  seeming.  Here  have  I  been  learning,  for 
three  tedious  months,  to  eat,  drink,  talk,  and 
walk ;  and,  to  my  notion,  I  could  eat,  drink, 
talk,  and  walk,  a  great  deal  better  before  I 
took  lessons— at  least,  more  to  the  purpose." 

^*  I  like  him  excessively,  Edward ;  upon  my 
word  I  think  he'll  make  me  a  convert,"^  said 
Anne.     "  My  dear  Sir  John,  pray  go  on." 

*^  No^  miss;  I  don^t  think  you're  laughing  at 


292  JACK    ASHORE. 

roe,  for  that  wouldn't  be  generous*  But  I  do 
think  that  you  are  a  little  surprised  that  I 
should  be  so  bold  as  to  let  you  understand  that 
the  mind  that  is,  as  it  were,  swaddled  in  down, 
is  likely  to  be  a  little  weakly  and  soft,  or  so. 
But  donH  ye  think  that  Fm  for  despising  all 
the  little  elegancies,  the  carving  and  gilding 
the  filagree  gingerbread  work — only  don''t 
overdo  it— don't  let  it  weaken  the  timbers,  like 
the  Old  Glory'^s  figure-head,  and  be  damned  to 
it — saving  your  presence,  marm — ^but  that  in- 
fernal family  party  had  as  nigh  got  me  six 
dozen — ^but  beg  pardon — you  gave  me  leave  to 
speak  like  a  sailor,  and  Fm  going  through  the 
water  at  a  precious  rate.^' 

*'  Well,  all  I  can  say  is,  that  I  would  sail 
with  you  at  this  rate  for  hours.  But  you  must 
not  have  it  all  your  own  way*  Every  society, 
Sir  John,  and  every  circle  of  every  society,  and 
every  family  of  every  circle,  have  their  peculiar 
manners.  '  I  know  that  you  will  not  only  do 
honour  to  our  class  of  society^  but  to  our  parti- 
cular circle,  and  to  our  family  also.  You  will 
soon  acquire  a  little  of  the  polish  of  our  man- 


JACK    ASHORE.  ,293 

Ders,  and  I  only  wish  we  could  be  as  certain  to 
acquire  a  little  of  the  sincerity  of  yours.  But 
I  am  playing  the  orator,  and  I  am  sure,  just 
now,  I  could  learn  niiore  of  Sir  John  than  I 
could  teach  him.  Tell  us  what  you  really 
think  of  our  way  of  living,  as  it  is  likely  to  pro- 
mote your  happiness,*  said  Miss  Truepenny. 

*^  No^  no,  with  submission,  miss,  I  won't  talk 
any  more — I  will  sit  and  listen.  I  am  really 
ambitious  to  become  one  of  your  circle— and  as 
I  intend  to  be  a  baronet  out  and  out,  I  shall  do 
all  I  can  to  become  elegant,  and  that  Fm  deter- 
mined, please  the  pigs.*** 

"  Very  well — I  like  you  extremely— now  let 
me  see  you  make  some  attempt.  Never  mind 
Sir  Edward  and  our  good  friend  Mr.  Single- 
heart.  Suppose  that  you  and  I  were  alone; 
suppose  me  not  in  the  best  of  humours,  and 
that  I  wished  for  something  elegant  and  refined 
to  amuse  me^  and  make  me  a  little  less  the 
naughty  girl — and  suppose  you  had  dropped  in 
merely  accidentally,  and  found  me  sitting  this 
way.     What  would  you  do  ?'* 

Anne  flung  herself  upon  a  sofa,  affected   a 

o  3 


294  JACK  A8HORK. 

pretty  pout,  and  began  with  a  graceful  pettish* 
ness  to  pull  to  pieces  a  fine  nasegav. 

*'  May  I  do  what  would  come  into  my  mind, 
and  no  offence?''  said  Jack,  looking  very 
archly. 

**  Why,  yes,"  said  the  lady,  with  a  little 
hesitation  ;  '^  for  I  am  sure  you  would  not  de- 
ceive me,  by  doing  or  saying  anything  that 
ought  to  give  offence." 

"  I  don^  know — I'll  try  not.  When  shall  I 
begin  ?" 

*^  Directly ;"  and  the  lady  looked  in  worse 
humour  than  ever. 

Jack  turned  his  back  and  retired  a  few  paces, 
and  when  he  faced  aboutf  everything  seemed 
changed  in  his  identity.  The  party  were  as- 
tonished. They  confessed  to  themselves,  if  act- 
ing, his  present  acting  was  inimitable ;  if,  for 
the  first  time,  he  had  assumed  his  natural  cha- 
racter, his  past  acting  must  have  been  a  miracle. 
He  advanced  gracefully,  he  trod  lightly,  and 
approached  the  young  lady  with  an  elegant 
awe,  whilst  she,  between  admiration  and  mirth, 
could  scarcely  keep  her  countenance. 


JACK    ABHORS.  S95 

Mimicking  Sir  Edward's  voice  and  inannner^ 
he  b^an — *'  My  dear  young  lady  I  has  any  one 
presumed  ?  O  la  !  dear  me  now  !  Those  pretty, 
pretty  flowers !  happy  flowers^to  die  the  velvet 
death  of  that  tiny  white  hand*  Is  it  not  better 
to  perish  like  those  flowers  at  once,  under  a 
beautiful  eye,  than  to  grow  old  and  withered, 
and  become  a  shrunk-up  stalk — and  then  to  be 
cast  aside  at  last,  because  we  have  become 
odious  and  disgusting  ? — no— let  me  die  like  the 
dolphin,  the  most  glorious  in  the  hour  of  his 
death.  That  rose,  you  have  torn  it  to  pieces — 
yet  every  piece  is  still  beautiful — I  defy  you. 
Miss  Anne,  to  remember  that  flower  but  by  its 
beauty — though  you  have  destroyed  it,  there  is 
something  sweet  and — and  something  like  a  ship 
that's  under  sail — even  in  its  ruin — it  'did  not 
die  of  age — " 

^*  Sir  John,  who  has  taught  you  this  ?''  said 
the  lady,  utterly  surprised. 

^*  Taught  me !  dear  Miss  Anne.  Nature — 
but  it  is  not  mine — I  have  looked  into  your 
heaven  of  a  face,  and  saw  it  all  there — and  have 
only  been  taught  by  nature  to  read  ofi^  what  I 
see,  just  as  the  master,  when  he  takes  a  lunar, 


S96  JACK    A6UOR£. 

reads  off  from  his  sextant  the  degrees  and 
rainutes.  But  there  is  much  more  in  tliat  lovely 
book  that  I  can  read,  yet  words  have  not  yet 
been  made  for  it*— and  never  will  be,  till  we  get 
up  aloft,  where  there  is  a  better  light  by  which 
to  read  so  fair  a  book.  I  know,  as  my  master 
in  elocution  says,  that  *  I  am  rude  in  speech — I 
only  speak  right  on — tell  you  that  which  you 
yourself  do  know — a  plain,  blunt  man;  but 
were  I  an  orator,'  as  the — the — the  chaplain  is— 
there  were  a  chaplain  that  would  draw  a  smile 
from  those  lips — but  all  my  golden  words  are 
spent — and  you  are  still  sorrowfuL  Music  has 
charms  to  soothe — oh — we  should  never  mention 
anything  rude.  You  will  not  talk — will  you 
listen  to  me  ?  ^  I  cannot  talk  myself— if  you  had 
a  fiddle  in  the  house  P 

^*  A  fiddle,**  said  the  lady,  jumping  up  with 
animation,  and  forgetting  her  assumed  charac- 
ter, ^'  you  shall  have  one  directly^  my  dear  Sir 
John.  But  you  bewilder  me  —  you  have  used 
words  and  sentences  that  quite  astonish  me — 
and  then  your  manner — so  different,  so  very 
different — so  soft,  and  yet  so  natural  I" 

**  Well,'*  said  Jack,  "  I  don't  know  whether 


JACK  ASUOftE.  *297 

you  like  it,  but  I  don't.  I  used  to  play  the  she 
parts  in  the  stage-plays'  we  got  up^  and  so 
learned  the  trick  of  talking  soft  like  a  woman ; 
and  as  to  the  words^  why,  when  I  try  hard  and 
think,  I  can  put  them  sometimes  together,  but 
not  for  long.^ 

«  The  fact  is,**  said  Sir  Edward,  "  that  you 
are  bom  a  poet." 

A  fine  cremona  was  soon  procured  and  placed 
in  Sir  John^s  hand.  He  played  several  popular 
airs  and  sea  tunes,  but  all  with  variations  and 
fantasias  after  his  own  peculiar  untaught  style ; 
aud  much  of  this  was  so  touching,  so  soft,  and 
so  exquisite,  that  it  drew  tears  of  silent  plea- 
sure and  deep  emotion  from  the  eyes  of  Anne 
Truepenny,  and  affected  even  the  sterner  nerves 
of  the  gentlemen.  When  Sir  John  ceased,  he 
said  to  the  lady^  ^*  If  it  ever  should  be  my  lot 
to  endeavour  to  make'  love  to  a  person  like 
yourself^  I'll  take  good  care  to  belay  my  jaw« 
ing  tacks,  and  scrape  into  her  good  graces.'' 

"  Believe  me^  Sir  John — with  very  little 
effort  on  your  part,  you  will  accomplish  any- 
thing and  everything.  You  had  better  take  care. 


296  JACK   ASHORE. 

Sir  Edward — I  don^t  know  a  person  who  might 
become  a  more  dangerous  rival ;  I  like  him 
already  excessively.  ,  Let  us  now  go  to  my 
grandfather's.'* 

Tliey  repaired  thither,  but  from  that  morn- 
ing some  undefined  feeling  of  jealousy  and  dis« 
like  to  Jack  sprang  up  in  the  bosom  of  Sir  Ed- 
ward. He  disowned  it  himself,  and  would  have 
quarrelled  with  any  one  who  had  charged  him 
'with  it.  There  it  was  nevertheless!  and  adding 
daily,  nay  hourly,  to  its  growth.  Pity  is  it, 
and  much  to  be  deplored,  that  our  best  fortunes 
do  not  always  arise  from  our  best  feelings ;  for 
this  very  unjust  dislike,  instead  of  entailing  a 
penalty  on  Sir  Edward,  promoted  and  after- 
wards accomplished  his  highest  wishes,  and  that 
too  without  involving  him  In  any  act  of  guilt,  or 
of  apparent  injustice,  to  Sir  John,  beyond  the 
injustice  of  the  dislike  itself ;  whilst  to  the  sailor 
l)aronet  it  entailed  upon  him  a  crowd  of  mi- 
series that  wrecked  his  gallant  heart,  and  nearly 
stranded  him  for  ever.  What  a  sad  thing  it  is, 
that  the  finest  moral  sentences  are  often  so  little 
in  accordance  with  truth !     Men  make  them, 


JACK   A8H0R£.  299 

but  fortune  disproves  them.  It  is  a  happy 
thing  indeed  for  Virtue  that  she  is  her  own  re- 
ward, for  really  she  seldom  gets  any  other,  at 
least  in  this  world. 

Now,  without  fuUy  understanding  his  mo- 
tives, Sir  Edward  was  resolved  to  leave  his 
cousin  henceforward  to  his  own  resources ;  and 
many  excellent  reasons  occurred  to  him  for  so 
doing ;  as  for  example— the  world  should  not 
say  that  he  kept  him,  for  his  own  interest,  in 
leading-strings— that  he  really  had  talent  enough 
to  be  independent  of  his  advice — that  when  he 
found  he  had  to  trust  to  himself,  he  would  be 
more  wary,  with  many  more  reasons  of  the  same 
description : — ^but  the  real  one  of  this  proposed 
abandonment  did  not  occur  to  him — that  he 
was  jealous  of  him. 

In  their  way  to  the  old  gentleman^s,  Sir  Ed- 
ward was  serious  even  to  sadness ;  but  this  ex- 
cited no  surprise,  as  it  was  considered  that  the 
nature  of  the  meeting  might  more  than  account 
for  it.  Miss  Truepenny  was  employed  upon  a 
review  of  the  best  arguments  to  use  to  forward 
their  niutual  views,  and  the  lawyer  was  arrang- 


800  JACK    ASHORR. 

iog  in  his  own  mind  the  differeDt  steps  in  the 
anticipated  application  to  the  Lord  Chancellor ; 
whilst  Jack  was  far  away  in  his  thoughts  from 
all  of  them,  he  being  then  with  his  PoU  in  pri- 
son, and  speculating  upon  the  result  of  her 
trial,  which  he  had  interest  enough  to  get 
postponed  for  one  session ;  and  be  ardently 
wished  that  he  should  be  able  to  avoid  appear- 
ing against  her,  as  the  evidence  was  complete 
without  him ;  and  that  this  might  be  the  case, 
he  had  some  very  good  grounds  for  believing. 


EKD   OF    VOL.    II. 


LONDON 
lOOTSON    AND  PALMBR,   PMNTCllS,  SAVOY-flTRBBT,   STRAND. 


JACK    ASHORE. 


VOL.  III. 


JACK     ASHORE. 


BY   TH^   AUTHOR   OF 

"  RATTLIN  THE  REEFER,''  "  OUTWARD  BOUND, 


» 


IN  THREE  VOLUMES. 


VOL.  III. 


LONDON : 
HENRY  COLBURN,  PUBLISHER, 

GREAT  MARLBOROUGH  STREET. 

1840. 


LONDON 

IBUTSON  AND  PALMSR,   PRn«TmM, 

■ATOv  srasxT,  sriiAxn. 


CONTENTS 


OF    THE    THIRD    VOLUME. 


Chaptbe  I. — The  important  Traepenny  will  argued—- Old 
age  obstinate,  and  youth  graaping — Proa  and  cons ;  and  a 
set  speech  pro»  well  conned—- Jaok  givea  excellent  coonael, 
and,  in  hia  turn,  is  counselled  to  put  his  cousin's  handaome 
nose  out  of  joint — Girea  a  flat  refusal  to  flatten  hia  reiation*a 
nose    .  .  •  •  •        Page  1 

Chaptbr  Il.*-Jack,  a  second  time,  tries  his  hand  at  letter- 
writing— Succeeds— His  cousin  gprows  jealous,  which  is 
bad,  and  ahowa  it,  which  ia  worse— Jack  ia  taught  how  to 
behave  in  aociety— Visits,  and  behavea  intolerably,  but 
finally  whistlea  himself  into  general  favour,  and  leavea 
with  a. love  affair  and  two  duela  upon  his  hands        •        41 

Chaptir  III.— Jack*s  double  duel,  and  hia  aingular  prepara- 
tions'*-Beats  both  hia  adversariea,  and  oomes  off  with' flying 
colours — Jack's  school  of  fencing  proved  to  be  the  best — 
He  makea  various  friends,  who  make  themaelvea  very  free, 
particularly  at  Jack'a  expense      •  •  .60 


▼1  CONTENTS. 

Cbaptik  IV«— Jiek  mtniM  in  haste,  to  hare  the  mora  laisare 
for  repentaiioe— Leisure,  however,  he  cannot  find,  yet  re- 
penteth  notwithstanding^— Sir  Edward  also  manies,  and 
gmmUes  ezceedingljr — Fsmiljr  jara — full  of  trouhlea — and 
frothy  with  complainta  •  •        8S 

CaAPTsm  V^-»A  oonTersation  hetween  two  ladies,  in  which 
matrimonj  is  discussed,  and  the  imperatiTe  duty  of  daiMS 
to  show  a  proper  apirit  insisted  upon  •        98 

CBAPTBm  VL — The  paraUe  of  the  fiit  ox  and  the  blackhirds 
— Jack  goes  on  badly — ^Tskes  up  with  low  rices  and  low 
eompanions,  snd  consequently  is  often  taken  up  himself— 
Goes  into  the.oountry,  snd  tslks  about  election  matters- 
Shows  his  ignorance  by  showing  his  patnotism— Forms 
his  own  resolution      •  •  .110 


CaAmm  VII.^Jack  plays  sad  pranks— Frightens  his  .com- 
pany, robs  the  rector,  astonishes  the  doctor,  and  mortally 
ofienda  the  lord  lieutenant— in  fact,  beooases  s  rery  bad 
boy,  neglecting  his  wife,  and  cultivating  the  bottle— Elec- 
tion mattera  further  discussed— How  to  shoot  flying,  snd 
to  aasrk  your  game    •  •  •  •        134 

CHAPTsn  Vniw— Jack'a  first  lesson  in  partridge-shootings- 
Laughed  at  by  the  colonel — Thoae  laugh  best  who  laugh 
laat — Jack  hits  his  mark,  however,  and  tries  his  powers 
ofconsolstion  •  .  •  •        16S 

CnAFTsn  IX.— 'Contains  only  the  nport  of  sn  election  dinner 
— Msy  therefore  be  passed  over  ss  commonplsce  170 

Cbaptxs  X.<— Showeth  how  to  get  op  a  deputation,  and  bow 
to  get  it  well  off;  and  also  how  well  to  answer  it— How  to 


CONTENTS.  VU 

make  the  wind  fair— Sound  ateeple  doctrine— How  to  re- 
ceire  a  deputation,  and  what  to  expect  for  dinner  on  a 
banyan  day  •  •  .         .  •        186 

Cbapter  XI. — Preparationa  for  a  ball,  and  aome  reflectiona 
thereupon^ProTiding  for' fun — The  proridera  at  fault- 
Jack  and  the  linendraper — They  take  their  meaaures  toge- 
ther—The piece  doea  not  run  ahort  .  •        S16 

Chapter  XII.— The  ball — ETerything  in  apple-pie  order— 
A  grand  arriral — ^The  people  atnmble  into  the  pit  Jack 
had  dug  for  them—- All  the  world  turned  courtiera— The 
followera  of  the  fox  at  fault — After-dinner  apeechea— Con- 
atemation,  explanation,  and  termination      •  .        S37 

Cbaptbs  Xlllrf-^ack  proceeda  from  bad  to  worae — Promiaea 
amendment,  and  learea  even  the  hope  of  it  behind— Heara 
fenful  newa,  and  ia  fearfully  affected — Preparea  to  act,  and, 
when  too  late,  makea  aome  rery  excellent  reflectiona  .    26X 

Chapter  XIV^— The  criaia  and  the  exploaion— Colonel  Chaae- 
hell  geta  a  terrible  tumble,  and  Jack  terminatea,  for  the 
preaent,  hia  race  of  ruin  in  a  mad  run^Ererything  looka 
black  and  deaolate,  and  nothing  ia  left  but  hope      •        S81 

Cbaptir  '  X v.— Raya  of  hope  and  comfort^Old  and  true 
frienda  re-appear— Jack  eacapea— Goea  to  ae»— Condu- 
aion  .....        308 


JACK    ASHORE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Tbe  important  TruepdnBy  will  argued — Old  age  obstinate 
and  yonth  grasping-^Pros  and  eons ;  and  a  set  speech  pro, 
well  conned — Jack  gives  excellent  counsel,  and  in  his 
tarn,  is  counselled  to  put  his  cousin's  handsome  nose  out  of 
joint — Gires  a  flat  refusal  to  flatten  his  relation*8  nose. 

Ma.  TsuEPENinr  had  passed  the  age  when  he 
might  have  been  termed  a  very  old  man — he 
was  ancient,  and  was  looked  upon,  not  only 
with  awe,  but  with  wonder.  He  seemed  not 
to  belong  to  the  surface,  but  to  the  bowels  of 
the  earth,  for  there  was  the  mouldiness  of  the 

VOL.   Ill*  B 


^  JACK    A8H0ER. 

grave  upon  his  features.  We  have  already 
said  that  he  was  very  deaf,  yet  his  eyesight 
was  still  tolerable^  and  his  voice,  though  reedy, 
sufficiently  loud  for  the  purposes  of  conversa- 
tion. In  everything  that  he  did,  he  seemed  to 
act  more  like  a  machine^  than  one  whose 
moving  impetus  was  that  of  an  immortal  soul. 
He  woke  and  slept  and  ate  with  the  punctu- 
ality of  a  sun-dial — which,  when  rightly  read, 
we  look  upon  as  the  most  punctual  thing  ex- 
isting. 

He  lived  only  in  the  past,  he  breathed  in 
the  present,  and  he  stood  so  nearly  upon  the 
threshold  of  the  eternity  of  the  future,  that 
everything  passing  around  him  was  to  him 
matter  of  the  smallest  interest, — with  one  single 
exception  —  that  of  working  out  the  intent 
of  the  will  of  his  ancestor.  It  seemed  that  for 
this,  Providence  had  spared  him  beyond  the 
age  of  post*diluvian  man. 

He  was  seated  in  his  principal  drawing-room, 
in   a    high-backed    arm-chair,  well    furnished 


JACK   ASHORE.  O 

with  cushions.  There  was  but  a  dim  and 
solemn  light  diffused  through  the  apartment. 
To  his  left  and  to  his  right  sate  two  old  men^ 
one  the  family  lawyer,  and  the  other  a  venerable, 
and,  with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Truepenny,  the 
only  surviving  trustee  to  the  will — a  trust  that 
he  had  inherited  from  his  father,  and  which  he 
had  already  devised,  by  his  testament,^ to  his  son. 

Supported  by  Sir  Edward  Fortintower, 
Anne  Truepenny  advanced  towards  her  grand- 
father's arm-chair,  and  stooping  down,  kissed 
the  old  man  upon  his  forehead.  A  faint  irra« 
diation,  the  spectre  of  a  smile,  passed  over  his 
rigid  features,  which  then  quickly  settled  down 
into  the  marble  of  insensibility.  For  many  years 
her  kiss  had  been  the  only  talisman  to  cause 
even  that  shadow  of  pleasure  to  wander,  like  a 
lost  spirit,  over  his  countenance. 

Sir  Edward  did  not  even  dare  the  familiarity 
of  shaking  hands.  He  bowed  reverently.  Sir 
John  Truepenny,  as  he  advanced  up  the  room, 
and  caught  a  distant  view  of  the  elder,  started 

B  2 


4  JACK   ASHORE. 

at  beholding  a  living  being  so  very  old.  He 
bowed  also,  and  with  Mr.  Singleheart  remained 
standing  at  the  foot  of  the  table.  Anne  sate  her- 
self down  on  a  low  chair  beside  her  ancestor, 
and  taking  his  cold  and  slirivelled  right  hand  b^ 
tween  her  own  hands,  looked  up  with  anxiety 
and  tenderness  into  his  eyes,  which  still  possessed 
the  speculation  of  humanity.  They  seemed  like 
two  sparkling  pieces  of  jet»  embedded  in  moss. 

Sir  Edward,  at  a  grave  motion  of  Mr.  True- 
penny, had  seated  himself  near  the  family 
lawyer,  Mr.  Winterton.  It  was  some  time 
before  any  one  spoke — when,  at  the  motion  of 
the  aged  man,  Mr.  Winterton,  in  a  loud,  dry, 
unimpassioned  voice,  with  no  apparent  con- 
sciousness that  the  direction  of  a  vast  fortune, 
and  the  happiness  of  two  young  creatures,  de- 
pended upon  the  decision,  read,  from  a  paper, 
as  follows : 

*^  ^  We  have  met,  at  the  petition  of  Sir  Ed- 
ward Fortintower  and  of  Anne  Truepenny,  to 
consult  on  the  expediency  of  taking  proceed- 


JACK   ASHORE.  5 

ings  before  the  Lord  Chancellor,  in  order  to 
annul  the  trusts  under  the  will  of  Stephen  True- 
penny, so  that  the  estates  under  the  said  will  may 
be  enjoyed  by  the  present  heir,  Mortimer  True- 
penny, Esq.,  and  his  granddaughter  Anne,  his 
sole  heiress  in  remainder,  to  the  intent  and 
purpose  of  preventing  a  further  accumulation 
of  the  said  property,  for  the  attainment  of  va- 
rious objects  specified  in  the  said  will/  Are  you 
content,  Miss  Anne  Truepenny,  to  join  in  a 
petition  to  the  Lord  Chancellor  to  effect  this  ?*  ^ 

*'  I  am — I  much  desire  it,''  said  the  lady 
emphatically. 

**  Are  you  content,  Mr.  David  Dropandie, 
speaking  as  a  trustee  ?  " 

**  I  would  first  hear  what  says  ancient  Mr. 
Truepenny.  May  my  years  equal  his  P  said 
the  old  man. 

'*  What  does  he  say  ?  A  worthy  man  is 
friend  Dropandie — but  has  one  failing  —  he 
can't  speak  out — ^have  had  him  on  my  knee  as 
a  child — he  could  speak   out   then— -but    he 


0  JACK   ASHOKB. 

grows  old,  and  loses  his  voice ;  what  says  he  ?^ 
Thus  spake  Mr.  Truepenny. 

**  He  says,"*  roared  out  Mr.  Wintertoo, 
'^  that  before  he  speaks,  he  would  hear  your 
opinion,  and  that  he  may  live  to  number  your 
years.** 

**  He  said  so?  hey  ! — did  he  say  so? — ^he  is 
not  so  wise  as  he  was,  and  yet  a  very  worthy 
man  is  Mr.  Dropandie.  A  winding-sheet  and 
a  comfortable  coffin  —  those  are  luxuries  of 
which  foolish  old  men  are  fearfuL  David 
Dropandie,  you  are  a  hale  man  yet^but  wish 
neither  to  live  nor  to  die.  Trouble  not  yourself ; 
your  living  and  your  dying  are  cared  for.  Fear 
God,  David,  and  speak  up  always.*' 

**  I  will,  worthy  Mr.  Truepenny,  I  will  take 
a  note  of  your  valuable  words,^  screamed  out 
Mr.  Dropandie,  at  the  same  time  taking  out 
his  tablets. 

"Are  you  content  to  petition  the  Lord 
Chancellor?"  resumed  Mr.  Winterton,  in  his 
usual  loud  key,  addressing  Mr.  Truepenny. 


JACK  Asuoas  7 

**  As  yet,  gossip  Winterton,  I  am  not  content 
—on.  the  contrary,  I  am  discontent.  I  require 
quiet — I  pant  for  quiet — I  am  disturbed,  and  I 
am  discontent.  But  still,  I  will  hear  reason.  Let 
me  hear  reason.  Who  is  going  to  wake  me  hear 
reason  ?  Generations  have  held  this  will  sacred 
— ^let  the  reasoner  mind  that,  and  then  let  him 
reason — I  will  hear  reason.'* 

"  Mr.  Truepenny/'  said  Sir  Edward,  quite 
as  loudly  as  if  he  had  been  addressing  the 
speaker  in  the  house  of  commons,  **  I  rise  with 
the  full  intention  of  blinking  no  part  of  this 
very  delicate  question — a  question,  Mr.  True- 
penny, that  involves  the  disposition  of  immense 
property,  and  the  happiness,  I  may  almost  say 
the  existence,  of  those  near,  and  who  ought  to 
be — and,  I  am  not  out  of  order  in  saying,  who 
are— very  dear  to  you." 

*'  Keep  up  your  voice,  young  man,  and 
speak  slowly,^  was  the  encouraging  interrup- 
tion. 

**  I  will  keep  up  my  voice — I  will  measure 


8  JACK  ASHOBE. 

out  my  words  — -  and,  I  have  only  to  add,  bow 
much  I  regret  that  this  momentous  task  has 
fallen  to  the  hands  of  a  person  so  utterly  un- 
worthy and  incompetent  as  mysdf— but  had 
any  other  honourable  member,  person  I  mean, 
come  forward  to  relieve  me  of  this  great 
responsibility,  not  only  would  I  have  gladly 
surrendered  this  important  motion  to  his 
guidance,  but  humbly  and  gladly  would  have 
followed  in  his  steps." 

**  Little  Anne,  little  Anne — what  is  the  young 
man  talking  about  ? — I  hear  him,  but  compre- 
hend not— did  he  say  he. was  unworthy  and 
incompetent — a  solemn  deed  set  aside  for  one 
unworthy,  and — ^ 

*'For  me,  dear  grandpa  —  for  your  little 
loving  Annie.^ 

''Well,  well,  I  will  hear  reason — ^but  the 
youth  must  come  to  the  point,  or  I  shall  go  to 
sleep." 

''  Such  wills,"  resumed  Sir  Edward,  **  asthat 
under  consideration,  are  directly  against  a  true 


JACK   ASHORE.  9 

aocia]  polity.  Wealth  is  only  valuable  in  its  dis- 
persion—and it  is,  or  it  ought  to  be,  fully  under- 
stood, that  the  community  at  largesuffer  immense 
property  to  be  accumulated  in  the  hands  of  the 
few,  solely  because  such  accumulations  tend,  ul*- 
timately,  for  the  benefit  of  all,  by  bringing  capital 
into  operation  in  such  great  quantities,  that  im* 
portant  works  may  be  undertaken,  employment 
diffused,  and  thus  fresh  capital  created." 

**  That  is  very  sensible->but  let  every  man 
look  to  himself.  It  is  the  Truepenny  interest 
that  is  now  the  question,  not  that  of  the  com* 
munity  at  large,"  said  the  old  man,  with  more 
energy  than  could  have  been  expected  from 
him. 

**  Well,  let  us  consider  the  will  only  with  a 
reference  to  its  own  intents,  and  the  aggran- 
dizement of  the  Truepenny  family.  Before 
Sir  John's  existence  was  discovered,  I,  in  my 
poor  person,  seemed  marked  out  as  the  organ 
by  which  its  originator^s  most  sanguine  wishes 
could   be  accomplished.     I  was  then  the  ac- 

b5 


10  JACK    ASHOBE. 

knowledged  head   of  the  Fortintowers.     My 
supposed  property  alone  was  equal  to  support 
the  dignity  of  the  peerage,  not  only  suitably 
but  splendidly— whilst  the  accumulation  of  the 
Truepenny  estates  has  become  so  immense,  that 
princedoms  could  not  exhaust  its  revenues.     It 
was  contemplated  by  the  founder  of  this  pro- 
perty, that  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  it  was, 
at  the  right  time,  to  be  expended  in  the  pur- 
chase of  those  honours,  that,  I  think,  I  can 
myself  procure  without  any  expense  whatever. 
I  enjoy  the  confidence  of  the  minister  of  the 
day,  and  I  am  not  disagreeable  to  the  sovereign 
himself.     Though  my  present  income  is  all  too 
little  even  to  support  me  as  a  gentleman,  yet 
you    must  bear  in   mind   that   when   I    was 
affluent  enough  to  hope  for  a  peerage  upon  my 
own  capabilities,  I  hesitated  to  obtain  it  until  I 
had  joined  my  fate  with  that  dear  lady's,  and 
thus  together  had  we  worked  out  the  intents  of 
this  absurd  wilL*^ 
But  here  Mr.  Winterton  spoke:  "I  have. 


JACK    ASHORE.  11 

Sir  Edward  Fortintower,  protected  and  upheld 
this  will  for  fifty  years  with  all  my  legal  ener- 
gieSy  and  watched  over  it  with  all  my  legal 
experience.  In  my  hearing,  it  shall  not  be 
called  absurd — it  is  a  superb,  a  glorious  will 
— there  is  a  clause  in  it  that  provides,  whilst 
its  conditions  are  unfulfilled,  that  the  attorney 
who  shall  watch  over  it  shall  receive  five 
hundred  per  annum.  My  father,  and  my 
father^s  father  watched  over  it — and  gloomy 
will  be  the  day  when  the  trustees  shall  unite  to 
set  it  aside — and  let  me  tell  you,  Sir  Edward 
Fortintower,  that  you  can  claim  but  little 
merit  for  your  forbearance  in  not  pushing  your 
fortunes  when  you  were  in  the  full  enjoyment 
-of  your  income — for  that  income  was  never 
rightfully  yours.** 

**  Mr.  Winterton,  do  not  make  me  your 
enemy.  I  did  not  know  that  the  Fortintower 
estates  were  not  rightfully  mine,  and  the 
promptitude  with  which  I  relinquished  them 


IS  JACK   A8HORB. 

should  shidd  me  from  any  imputation  on  that 
subject^'' 

^  Right,  right,**  said  old  Truepenny.  <<  It 
is  a  good  boy — ^bring  him  hither,  child,  and  I 
will  shake  hands  with  him ;  I  will — >* 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Sir  Edward  had 
been  so  honoured,  and  it  emboldened  him 
accordingly.     He  thus  proceeded : 

'^  Pray,  Mr.  Winterton,  do  not  consider  me 
your  enemy.  I  am  sure  that  you  do  not  wish,  for 
yourself  and  for  your  descendants,  to  create  a 
freehold  in  this  will.  No  Lord  Chancellor 
would  suffer  that.  Small  has  been  the  labour 
and  little  the  anxiety  that  you  and  your  ances- 
tors have  endured  for  so  many  five  hundreds 
of  pounds,  derivable  through  this  singular  will. 
I  verily  believe  that  it  could  be  brought  within 
the  statute  of  mortmain.  Yet  I  will  speak 
like  a  man  of  business,  Mr.  Winterton :  if  the 
trustees  and  the  heiress  shall  join  to  petition  to 
the  setting  of  it  aside,  and  you  will  throw  no 


JACK  ASHORE.  13 

obstade  in  the  way,  I  will,  when  the  document 
is  pronounced  null  and  void,  undertake  to 
make  you  any  consideration  that  you  may 
choose  to  name/* 

**  The  youth  is  reasonable — these  be  reasons 
— ^he  cometh  to  the  point,**  said  Mr.  True- 
penny. **He  hath  showed  Mr.  Winterton 
much  reason,  but  me,  none.^ 

Mr.  Winterton  looked  warily,  first  at  Sir  Ed- 
ward and  then  at  Mr.  Singleheart.  Jack 
certainly  muttered  something— for  his  lips  were 
seen  to  move,  and  some  sounds  nearly  approxi- 
mating to  **  bloody  rogues"  were  indistinctly 
audible.  Mr.  Winterton  said  not  another 
word  during  the  conference. 

*^  Set  aside  this  will,"  continued  Sir  Edward, 
^  let  me  marry  the  lady  to  whom  I  have  been  so 
long  betrothed.  Though  my'fortune  is  gone,  my 
talents,  my  standing  in  parliament,  my  political 
influence,  are  still  the  same,  Miss  True- 
penny^s  wealth  is  so  great,  that  the  loss  of  mine 
will  not  be  missed— and  the  junction  of  the  two 


14  JACK  ASHOBK. 

families,  with  the  attainment  of  the  peerage,  will 
fully  and  conscientiously  fulfil  the  intentions  of 
your  ancestor;  though  in  the  mere  words  it 
may  not  be  so.  I  now  present  to  you,  Mr.  True- 
penny, Sir  John  himself,  who  will,  as  far  as  he 
is  concerned,  fully  bear  out  all  that  I  have  said. 
I  have  spoken  nothing  of  our  hearts — ^nothing  of 
the  aifections— -nothing  of  our  two  years^  engage- 
ment. Speak,  Sir  John  Truepenny,  and  tell 
Mr.  Truepenny  that  you  consent  to  the  setting 
aside  of  this  will — which  stands  between  me 
and  happiness,  and  the  happiness  of  that  dear 
young  lady.*" 

For  the  first  time,  old  Mr.  Truepenny  re- 
garded Jack  attentively,  who,  in  his  turn, 
stared  on  the  awful  antiquity.  Jack  was  taken 
so  much  by  surprise,  that  he  forgot  his 
dancing-master,  and  his  master  of  elocution, 
and  every  other  master ;  he  found  himself 
seizing  the  hair  over  his  forehead^  ducking  his 
head,  and  scraping  back  his  right  leg,  after 
which  he  hailed  him  as  if  he  were  hiinself  on  the 
forecastle  and  the  old  man  in  the  foretop. 


JACK    A8H0R£.  15 

^*  Please  your  honour,  as  far  as  I  undercum- 
stumbles — that  is  to  say,  understands  this  here 
foul  hause — cut  the  will  adrift,  and  let  it  float 
to  the  deviL     Tause  why — " 

'*  Sir  John,  Sir  John,"  said  Anne,  reproach^ 
fully  ;  **  why  not  speak  now,  as  you  spoke  to  me 
in  the  drawing-room  not  two  hours  ago.  Dear 
grandpapa,  he  can  be  the  gentleman  if  he  likes, 
and  something  better — he  can  indeed  !" 

**  I  was  play-acting  then,  Miss,  and  this  is 
too  serious  a  matter  for  joking.  Mr.  True- 
penny, if  the  two  young  folks  like  each  other, 
let  them  marry,  and  God  bless  them.  I  have 
already  offered  them  all  my  fortune,  bating  the 
yacht  and  enough  to  keep  her  and  me  afloat — 
there^s  more  than  enough  for  them  both,  and 
the  peerage  into  the  bargain.  Then  settle  the 
will  among  you — ^it's  out  of  my  soundings  al- 
together. Wouldn't  say  anything  disrespect- 
ful to  you,  old  gentleman,  but  if  that  pretty 
sweet  young  lady  is  your  own  flesh  and 
blood-'* 


16  JACK  ASHORE. 

^*  Sole  remnant  of  our  house,^  said  the  aged 
man  emphatically. 

^*  There  it  is,'*  said  Jack.  You  long  shore 
folks  never  talk  about  the  hearty  but  it  is  the 
hotise — and  whilst  a  sailor  would  be  thinking  of 
a  warm  bosom  and  kindly  feelings,  you  are  all 
maundring  about  bricks  and  mortar — or  names 
upon  tumble-down  tombstones.  Fie  upon  it ! 
Let  *em  marry,  old  gentleman,  and  there  is 
pudding  enough  still  in  you  for  to  see  a  brace,  or 
perhaps  three  young  uns  bawling  out  great- 
grandpa  into  your  deaf  lug.  To  cousin  Ed« 
ward,  I  say,  marry,  with  or  without  the  good 
of  the  wiU,  and  trust  to  God — to  you,  old 
gentleman,  let  them  marry,  and  give  them 
all  the  property  when  you  lose  the  number 
of  your  mess,  and  as  much  as  you  can  spare 
before — make  them  blest,  and  that's  the  way 
to  get  God^s  blessing  yourself.  Don^t  look 
on  me  in  no  light — for  I  am  only  an  inter- 
loper— and  much  more  ready  to  give  up  all 
than  I  was  to  take  it — always  bating  the  yacht 
and  the  keeping  it  ship-shape.     If  I  was  to 


JACK   ASHOBE.  ]7 

8peak  for  a  dog-watch  at  a  spell,  I  couldn't  cay 
more  to  the  purpose.  No  offence,  old  gentle- 
man— I  would  treat  you  with  just  as  much 
respect,  if  I  saw  you  begging  on  a  couple  of 
own  crutches  at  my  door.*^ 

**  He  means  well,  dear  grandpapa,  he  does 
indeed,"  said  the  young  lady. 

*^Let  me  see  him — ^let  him  come  closer 
to  me,''  said  the  old  man.  '*  A  comely  youth 
— ^nay,  he  is  surpassingly  handsome — ^a  right 
proper  young  man — rough — a  little  rough — 
and  he  is  the  eldest — the  representative  of  all 
the  proud  Fortintowers— and  the  Truepenny 
blood  in  him  still  stronger  than  the  feudal. 
Granddaughter,  I  see  with  a  light  borrowed 
from  a  world  beyond  this— he  is  the  fitting 
man  for  your  husband — a  better  man,  a  more 
beautiful  man  than  his  cousin  of  the  many  fine 
words.  Marry  Asfn,  daughter— -and  not  only 
my  blessing,  but  the  blessing  of  all  your  race 
now  in  heaven  will  descend  upon  you,  and  upon 
him — ^and  upon  yours  and  upon  his.    I  know 


Id  JACK   ASHORB* 

it — I  see  it — I  prophesy  it — He  stands  thus 
glorious  in  his  youth — daughter,  I  say,  niarry 
him — ^the  bold  bearing,  the  honest,  the  sea- 
nurtured  !" 

^*  My  poor  Edward !"  was  the  only  and 
scarce  audible  reply  of  Anne. 

*^  Moan  not,  groan  not,*"  continued  her  grand- 
father, not  hearing  the  intent  of  her  exclamation. 
**  Your  destiny  will  be  splendidly  fulfilled  by 
this  son  of  the  ocean.  What  lacks  he?  In 
what  is  he  wanting?  Place  him  beside  the 
other — compare  them.  Have  you  no  eyes, 
Anne  Truepenny  ?  your  ancestors  look  down 
upon  you  for  your  decision/' 

**  I  have  already  decided,"  was  the  brief 
proud  answer  of  Anne,  rising  up  from  her 
grandfather's  side,  and  placing  her  hand  in 
Edward^s. 

*^  But  that  decision  must  be  revoked — he  of 
the  elder  branch  is  the  better.  Has  he  not  been 
generous  ?— does  his  honest  rudeness  oflend 
you  ? — in    how   little  a   time  will   that    wear 


JACK   ASHORE.  IQ 

away  I  I  would  not  require  you  to  do  this 
suddenly — but  it  must  be  done,  for  it  seems 
the  bidding  of  destiny.  Take  time,  and  then 
give  me  your  answer." 

^^  I  have  but  one  to  give.  I  cannot  be  false 
— ^it  is  so  much  easier  to  cease  to  be  the  heiress 
—is  it  not,  my  Edward  ?'* 

But  Sir  Edward  was  altogether  disconcerted. 
The  altar  he  had  dedicated  to  his  self-love, 
and  which  he  had  so  scrupulously  kept  invio- 
late, was  overthrown  at  one  blow,  and  its  frag- 
ments trodden  upon  with  contempt.  He 
wanted  neither  for  just  nor  good  feelings,  but 
he  could  not  manfully  bear  up  against  anything 
approaching  to  contempt ;  and  there  was  no 
redress  for  him,  for  all  the  indifference  with 
which  he  was  regarded  by  old  Mr.  True- 
penny. 

A  heavy,  fearful  gloom,  that  lasted  for  a  con- 
siderable time,  now  settled  upon  the  conclave. 
No  one  seemed  inclined  to  speak,  and  the  aged 
.  man  closed  bis  eyes,  and  it  was  thought  that  he 


20  JACK   A8HOBE. 

slept.  At  length  Sir  Edward  spoke,  and 
though  he  began  by  saying,  **  Grentlemen,*  his 
words  were  more  particularly  addressed  to  Jack. 
They  did  him  but  little  credit.  They  were  at 
once  querulous  and  irascible.  Without  ac- 
tually blaming  any  one,  he  tried  to  make  it 
appear  that  he  had  been  dreadfully  ill-used, 
and  that  the  immense  sacrifices  he  had  made 
were  repaid  only  by  adversity,  and  regarded 
with  indifference. 

««  Cheer  up  !  cheer  up  P'  said  Jack  !  «  What 
ho !  shipmate ;  the  wind  will  veer  round  a 
point  or  two.  The  old  gentleman  that  is  cork- 
ing there  so  snug  may  think  better  of  it.  Per- 
haps he  expects  that  I*d  take  the  lady  after  all 
—and  so  he  trusts  to  time — to  time,  when  the 
hour  hand  of  the  dial  of  his  life  is  on  the  point 
of  twelve,  and  he  may  hear  the  next  chimes  in 
eternity.  As  to  Miss  Anne,  I  wouldn't  have 
her,  cousin,  while  she  was  in  love  with  you,  if 
all  the  generations  of  the  two  families  since 
Adam  was  an  oakum  boy  in  Deptford  Dock* 


JACK    ASHORE.  21 

yard,  had  been  doing  nothing  else  but  making 
wills  that  it  should  be  so.  Let  somebody  drop 
that  in  the  old  gentleman's  lug  when  he  wakes 
up.  No  offence  to  the  lady,  for  a  sweeter  crea* 
ture  the  summer  breezes  never  blew  upon. 
Take  her  at  once,  as  I  ha'  said  before,  and 
think  yourself  the  luckiest  dog  that  ever 
growled.  If  it  were  possible  to  chop — which  it 
isn't — ^you  might  have  the  two  fortunes — always 
barring  the  yacht — ^and  Td  take  the  lady  in 
her O  whillaloo!  manners!^ 

Now,  had  any  one  else  said  this,  it  is  very 
probable  that  Mr.  Truepenny  would  not  have 
heard  it ;  but  Jack,  when  in  earnest,  generally 
made  noise  enough*  The  old  gentleman  had 
never,  in  his  life,  been  more  awake ;  he  opened 
bis  eyes,  he  waved  his  hand,  and  said, 

**  I  honour  that  honest  sailor.  He  has  well 
reminded  me  how  precious  are  the  few  mo- 
ments that  are  still  vouchsafed  to  me.  We 
must  not,  we  will  not,  lose  time.  Answer  me, 
Edward  Fortintower^  and  answer  me  solemnly 


22  JACK    ASHORE. 

-^but  first  pause  before  you  reply,  for  the 
answer  must  be  final.  Will  you  take  this 
maiden  to  wife  fortuneless,  penniless  ? — for,  as- 
suredly, if  she  does  not  marry  the  sailor,  the 
will  must  take  efiect.^* 

*<  Assuredly  !**  said  Mr.  Dropandie. 

"  Mr.  Truepenny,  Mr.  Dropandie^  Miss 
Truepenny,  before  I  reply,  let  me  also  put 
to  you  all  a  solemn  question,"  said  the  agi- 
tated Sir  Edward.  ^<  Will  you  join  to  set  aside 
this  most  iniquitous  will  ?" 

^*  O  most  gladly,  my  dear  Edward,"  said 
the  lady. 

The  gentlemen  shook  their  beads  in  silence. 

<*  Then  must  I  reply.  In  the  first  places  I 
denounce  these  two  old  men  as  most  unjust^ 
most  wickedly  unjust ;  on  their  heads  be  all 
the  misery  that  their  fatal  obstinacy  most 
surely  will  create.  I  will  run  all  risks.  I  will 
gladly,  joyfully,  eagerly,  marry  Miss  True- 
penny to-morrow—if  you  wiU  only  promise  to 
make  an  efibrt  to  annul  the  wilL    Most  rap- 


JACK  ASHORE.  23 

tiirously  will  I  risk  all  chances  of  the  law's 
incertitude,  and  endure  most  contentedly  the 
law's  delay.  But  I  prize  too  much  the  happi- 
ness of  this  dear  lady  to  entail  upon  her,  by  an 
imprudent  marriage  —  a  marriage  in  which 
there  would  be  no  hope— the  proud  wretched- 
ness of  gentlemanly  poverty.  Give  us  but 
hope,  and  I  will  meet  all  privations,  face  all 
difficulties ;  refuse  this,  if  you  will,  but  your 
obduracy  shall  not  make  two  persons  aristocra- 
tical  beggars  for  life.  That  is  my  answer. 
Have  you  heard  it  ?'** 

It  was  heard—and  but  too  well.  Anne  be- 
came excessively  pale,  and  she  had  much  diffi- 
culty in  overcoming  her  temptation  to  shriek. 
She  preserved  a  deathlike  silence.  Jack 
doubled  up  his  huge  hands,  and  looked  marl- 
ing-spikes;  but  his  anger  as  suddenly  gave 
way,  as  he  muttered,  "  All's  right — Ned's  only 
trying  to  gammon  the  old  uns."  Mr.  Single- 
heart  looked  round  upon  Sir  Edward  with 
surprise  and   displeasure  in  his  countenance. 


24  JACK   ASHORE. 

The  two  old  trustees  alone  seemed  unmoved. 
Then  the  eldest  of  them  lifted  up  his  voice  and 
spake. 

**  He  has  been  tried  in  the  balance,  and 
found  wanting.  But  it  becomes  not  me>  nor 
any  who  bear  our  name^  to  arraign  this  joung 
man  for  the  love  of  lucre,  or  for  a  sinful  devo> 
tion  to  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  this  wicked 
world;  for  have  not  we^  from  generation  to 
generation,  persisted  in  this  wickedness?  I  am 
aweary,  and  I  fain  would  be  at  rest.  I  have 
sinned  with  my  race,  and  at  the  hands  of  this 
youth  have  I  been  reproved.  I  have  lived  to 
see  the  last,  the  most  beautiful,  and  the  best  of 
our  house,  rejected.  Have  I  lived  long  enough? 
Methinks  I  have.  But  this  world  now  interests 
me  not.  It  is  to  me  as  a  room  in  a  roadside 
inn.  I  take  no  further  thought  who  shall 
occupy  it  after  me.  I  have  done  with  it.  I 
am  about  to  take  my  long  journey— would 
that  I  could  say  in  peace !  Anne  has  been  re* 
jected — I  care  not— and  yet,   why  does  this 


JACK    ASHORE.  25 

heart  still  flutter — ^rejected?  Anne,  listen  to 
the  advice  of  him  whose  voice  will  soon  be 
silent.    Cleave  unto  the  sailor  youth.     He  is 

the  worthier  vessel." 

» 

^*  My  more  than  father,  I  cannot.  I  have 
loved  once,  and  for  ever.  Edward  may  break 
my  heart,  but  who  can  make  it  false  ?  In  my 
inmost  soul  have  I  married  him,  and,  if  I  may 
not  live  his  wife,  I  will  die  his  widow." 

*^  Then  hear  my  resolution.  There  stands 
nothing  between  the  accomplishment  of  the  will 
— of  this  deed  so  sacred  to  our  family — ^but 
your  engagement  to  this  young  and  worldly- 
minded  baronet  I  ask  you  not  to  violate  your 
sense  of  right,  but  you  and  he  must  pay  the 
penalty.  To  you  it  will  be  no  hardship— you, 
Anne,  have  the  solace  of  a  noble  heart;  but 
whilst  Sir  John  remains  unmarried — whilst 
there  is  yet  a  chance  of  the  will^s  intention 
being  worked  out  in  his  person — ^I  will  not  con- 
sent to  its  being  set  aside.  If,  by  the  marriage 
of  Sir  John,  hope  is  forbidden,  the  surviving 

VOL*  III.  c 


26  JACK    A8UOBB. 

trustee  will,  through  God,  rule  the  event — ^for 
I  shall  be  away.  I  b^n  to  think  that  this  is 
as  a  judgment  against  us.  Let  me  depart  in 
peace.  I  blame  no  one.  Let  me  in  peace 
dream  on,  for  the  little  while  that  I  have  to 
live.  All  of  you,  the  upright  and  the  waver- 
ings take  the  blessing  of  one  who  has  numbered 
more  than  a  hundred  years — take  it,  and  may 
it  fructify  upon  you  all  unto  good  !  God  bless 
you  !  and  now  departr-~all,  save  this  drooping 
scion  of  our  family — ^she  shall  stay  with  me  for 
a  space — as  yet,  she  must  not  forget  that  she 
has  been  rejected.* 

Having  thus  spoken,  the  old  gentleman  closed 
his  eyes,  and  fell  into  an  unquiet  slumber. 

And,  save  Anne,  they  all  departed ;  but  they 
went  not  as  they  came.  Sir  Edward,  with 
much  politeness,  refused  a  seat  in  Jack^s  car- 
riage, and  taking  the  arm  of  Mr.  Singlebcart, 
walked  to  his  lodgings.  For  the  first  time^  our 
hero  felt  himself  alone,  as  he  sate  in  his  fashion- 
able vehicle;  a  sense  even  of  desertion  came 


ja<;k  ashors.  S7 

Direr  him*  When  be  arrived  at  Gaveiidisb 
Square,  be  found  several  of  his  maslera  waiting 
for  binu  He  felt  bugely  inclined  to  kick  tbem 
out  of  tbe  bouse.  He  dismissed  them,  bow- 
ever,  politely  enough,  and  intimated  to  tbem, 
that,  for  some  time,  be  should  have  no  further 
need  of  their  services.  He  walked  up  and 
down  his  stately  apartments — ^he  summoned  his 
amanuensis— be  attempted  to  converse  witli  him. 

All  this  would  not  da  Jack  was  restless 
and  comfortless — he  took  up  his  fiddle — still 
tbe  scene  that  be  bad  just  witnessed  spoiled 
every  attempt  he  made  to  extract  harmony 
.from  the  instrument,  or  to  restore  it  to  him- 
self. He  had  marked  tbe  checquers  on  the 
door-posts  of  several  public-bouses  as  he  passed 
through  the  streets  in  bis  carriage,  and  be  had 
6gured  to  himself  a  dark  back  parlour,  a  quiet 
pipe,  and  cold  grog.  There  was  much  in  the 
picture  consolatory  to  bim^  but  be  manfully 
resisted  bis  desire  to  realise  it* 

Thoi^b  be  had,  as  yet,  lived  in  perfect  seclu- 

c  2 


36  JACK    ASHOBE. 

sioD}  in  coofomiity  with  the  advice  of  bis  ohinoi 
in  order  to  habituate  himself  to  the  forms  of  his 
new  ruode  of  life,  he  had  always  dined  in  state» 
three  courses  being  served  up  to  him  with  as  much 
ceremony  as  if  he  had  his  salle  a  manger  full  of 
guests.  His  dessert  followed,  and  then  his 
long  lesson  of  accustoming  himself  to  claret 

All  this  sometimes  amus^,  sometimesannojed 
him ;  but,  for  the  sake  of  Sir  Edward,  whether 
amused  or  annoyed,  he  went  through  it  with  the 
same  regularity.  But  to-day  this  monkish  repast 
seemed  to  offer  nothing  but  what  was  disagree- 
able to  him.  He  rang  for  his  steward,  inti- 
mated that  he  was  going  out  of  town,  and 
ordered  four  horses  to  his  chariot. 

In  his  excellently  conducted  menage  every- 
thing was  performed  promptly  and  in  silence. 
*^  To  Greenwich,"  said  Jack ;  and  in  less  than 
half  an  hour  he  found  himself  there.  '*  Home," 
and  the  empty  chariot  disappeared. 

This  was  almost  his  first  decided  act  of  mas- 
tership.    It  gave  him  the  sensation  of  pleasure; 


JACK    ASHOBfi.  29 

but  this  sensation  was  not  sufficiently  strong  to 
relieve  bis  mind  from  mucb  oppression.  He  was 
soon  on  board  of  his  yacht,  his  civilian's  dress 
exchanged  for  a  blue  jacket  and  trimmings  to 
match,  and  the  Anne  under  weigh,  and  making 
for  the  Nore. 

Afloat,  Jack  was  determined  to  do  as  he 
liked,  so  there  was  no  scarcity  either  of  tobacco 
or  grog:  and  when  he  found  himself  comfort-* 
ably  settled  in  the  cabin  with  Giles  Grimm« 
he  confided  to  him  all  his  troubles  and  his 
anxieties. 

"  I  envy  you,  father.  My  life  has  lately 
been  a  drudgery  to  me.  My  masters  have 
only  taught  me  that  I  am  as  great  a  child  as  i» 
every  mother^s  son  of  them,  out  of  his  own 
station  bill.  Each  master  is  a  fool  in  every* 
thing  else  but  in  what  he  teaches ;  and  I  am  a 
fool  to  each  of  them  in  turn.  I  shall  get  the 
better  of  them  yet,  if  I  donH  take  some  damna- 
ble yaw.  At  times,  I  feel  there  is  something 
good  in  me — I  don't  mean  as  a  sailor,  daddy, 


do  JACK   ASUOKE. 

but  ID  their  own  flighty  way.  I  acquire  words 
that  appear  to  me  as  so  many  keys  to  unlock 
my  understanding,  and  my  heart  with  it ;  and 
whilst  my  master  of  elocution,  and  my  master 
of  grammar,  and  the  rest  of  that  boat's  crew, 
flatter  themselves  I  am  learning  their  rubbish, 
I  am  learning  something  better— learning  to 
think,  and  to  give  my  thoughts  words.  But  I 
can^t  keep  it  up,  father — L  can't.  It  comes  and 
goes  like  flaws  of  wind  in  the  calm  latitudes ; 
and,  in  the  veering  of  a  dogvane,  I  am  ofl^  my 
stilts,  and  at  home  again  in  my  nautical  lower- 
deck  lingo.  But  now  open  the  hatches  of  your 
understanding,  and  hand  me  up  some  good 
counsel  from  your  best  store-room.*' 

Jack  then  detailed  the  position  of  the  various 
persons  of  his  family,  and  dilated,  in  his  own 
manner,  on  the  memorable  interview  that 
seemed  to  promise  so  many  important  results. 

Giles  heard  all  in  profound  silence,  and  then 
confessed  himself  at  a  nonplus.  Accordin^y  he 
went  on  deck  to  see  how  the  cutter's  head  was. 


JACK   ASHORE*  SI 

had  all  the  sails  trimmed  afresh«  and  then  came 
below  again,  and  told  Jack  that  he  must  read  a 
few  chapters  in  the  Bible  first,  and  that  then  he 
would  give  him  his  answer.  Our  hpro  saw  no 
objection  to  this;  but  either  the  advice  was 
not  agreeable,  or  it  was  a  long  while  in  getting 
into  existence,  for  the  yacht  made  a  bold  dash 
into  the  Atlantic,  and  it  was  just  ten  days  be- 
fore she  was  again  snugly  at  her  moorings 
in  Greenwich  reach,  and  the  advice  still  to  be 
given. 

In  the  mean  time,  whilst  no  one  of  his 
friends  in  London  knew  what  had  become  of 
him,  his  recognizances  had  been  forfeited  ;  for 
he  could  not  very  well  appear  to  give  his  evi- 
dence against  his  Poll,  whilst  she  was  before 

the  judge  and  jury  at ,  and  he  was  some 

hundred  miles  off  on  the  wide  ocean.  Unfortu- 
nately for  the  lady,  the  proof  of  her  crime  was 
quite  sunicient,  without  Jack's  evidence  to  in- 
sure her  condemnation.  She  was  sentenced  to 
be  hung,  but  the  punishment  was  commuted  to 
transportation  for  life.     Her  former  lover  had 


92  JACK   A8H0BB. 

left  poutive  injunctions  widi  his  lawyer  to  do 
all  that  ooald  be  done  for  her  in  her  deplorable 
situation — and  it  was  done.  She  left  the  coun- 
try for  ever.  It  was  not  till  some  tinie  after 
that  Jacic  learned  all  this. 

During  Jaclc's  absence,  Sir  Edward  had 
been  anything  but  happy.  Anne  would  not  and 
could  not  see  him,  but  as  her  future  husband ; 
whilst  he«  in  the  mean  time,  behaved  so  myste* 
riously,  as  respected  the  fulfilment  or  non-fulfil- 
ment of  his  engagement  to  her,  that  even  his 
tried  friend  and  constant  ad viser,  M  r.  Siugleheart, 
did  not  understand  him  on  this  subject.  He  had 
several  times  called  upon  Sir  John,  and  left  or* 
ders  to  be  made  acquainted  with  the  fact  the 
moment  his  cousin  arrived.  This  arrival  took 
place  so  late  at  night,  that  it  was  not  till  the 
next  morning  that  Sir  Edward  was  announced 
He  looked  much  discomposed»  and  his  manner 
was  cold  and  estranged. 

Now,  Jack  had  so  far  become  habituated 
to  his  new  situation,  as  to  have  a  little  iden- 
tified himself  with  his  rank  and  advantages; 


JACK   A8BQRK.  38 

and  he  was  neither  8o  bumble  in  bis  deporU 
ment,  nor  so  deferential  to  his  couan^'s  opi- 
nionsi  as  formerly.  Yet  be  was  still  aa  frank^ 
and  as  pleased  to  see  Sir  Edward,  as  that 
gentleman's  manner  permitted.  Jack  had 
already  discovered  that  bis  cousin  was  rather 
addicted  to  a  set  speech,  so  he  merely  nodded 
assent  at  the  right  and  the  wrong  places,  whilst 
bis  cousin  finished  a  long  harangue  thus  :— 

*^  Sir  John,  you  must  confess— all  the  world 
must  confess — ^that  I  have  done  by  you  a  rela- 
tion's, a  Christian^  and  a  gentleman^s  duty. 
Tbis  duty  has  proved  all  but  my  ruin.  Yet, 
Sir  John,  I  repine  not — but  I  owe  also  a  duty 
to  myself-'—that  of  making  my  lamentable  posi- 
tion as  little  detrimental  to  me  as  possible.  I  have 
played  the  magnanimous,  and  I  have  paid  for 
it ;  I  have  avowed  myself  your  friend,  and  I 
have  proved  so — and  sb,  I  hope,  I  shall  ever 
prove.  But  circumstances,  Sir  John,  will  pre^ 
vent,  henceforward,  my  enjoying  so  much,  or 
even  at  all,  your  society.     The  worst  of  mo- 

c  6 


St  JACK  A6H0&8. 

tires  have  been  ftuigiied  to  the  ¥Cfy  ndtttary 
influence  that  I  have  exerdfled  over  you. 
Read  that.  Sir  John-— and  that—and  that,--" 
haadiog  over  to  him  several  papers  filled  with 
scurrilous  innuendosi  as  to  the  motives  of  Sir 
Edward  in  keeping  his  cousin  in  tutekgeu 

**  You  know,  Sir  John,  that  but  little  re- 
mains to  me  but  mj  good  name.  I  don't  re- 
proach you  for  this,  but  I  must  look  out  for 
myself.  I  will  give  you  a  few  words  of  partmg 
advice^  and  then  take  leave  oi  you  for  some 
time.  Your  pecuniary  afiESurs  cannot  be  in 
better  hands  than  those  of  Mr.  Singlebeart 
On  that  head,  you  need  have  neitber  appre- 
hension, trouble,  nor  anxiety.  I  would  reeom* 
mend  you  to  persevere  in  the  course  of  studies 
that  you  are  now  pursuing.  It  has  already 
much  advantaged  you.  I  would  have  you  no 
longer  remain  in  retirement  Go  into  company. 
Attend  to  what  I  am  now  going  to  sayy  as  you 
would  to  the  oracles  of  fate»  Drink  not— smoke 
not — game  not.     Give  me  your  word  of  honour 


JACK  A8H0AE*  '  36 

never  to  Idee  more  than  five  pounds  in  the 
twenty-four  hours.'' 

Jack  gave  this  pledge  solemnly. 

^*  I  have  brought  you  an  invitation  to  Mrs. 

Cackletop^s  party  for  to-night.     It  will  be  a 

good   entrance  for    you  into  general  society. 

Luckily,  there  are  not  many  persons  in  town. 

As,  in  some  measure,  you  have  been  under  my 

tuition,  I  shall  be  most  anxious  that  yon  make 

« 
a  favourable  dffmi.    I  shall  not  be  there  py- 

sdf — I  should  be  too  nervous  to  witness  it-*! 

will  give  you  a  few  general  instructions.  Always 

wear  your  gloves — I  think    that  your  hands 

grow  coarser  than  ever." 

He  did  not  know  that  Jack  had  been  bousing 
away  at  the  main  and  jib  sheets,  and  at  every 
rope  that  required  along  and  a  strong  pull,  for 
the  last  ten  days,  on  board  the  yacht* 

^*  Don't  speak  much,  and  when  you  have 
nothing  to  say  to  the  purpose,  you  may  smile 
to  show  your  teeth,  or  pick  them.  It  is  a  nasty 
trick   that  last— but  just  now  very  much  the 


86  JACK   ASHOBK. 

fashion.  You  have  very  beautiful  legs^  and 
more  the  foot  of  a  lady  of  quality  than  of  a 
man.  Sit  constantly  in  your  chair,  crossed* 
legged,  something  in  this  way,  and  from  time 
to  time  fondle  and  pat  your  calf  thus.  You 
see  what  little  need  you  will  have  for  conver- 
sation. Whai  you  must  converse — and  con* 
verse  the  silly  men  and  women  will  make  you — 
avoid  all  allusion  to  your  former  life,  and  shun 
sea  phrases  as  you  would  a  leper.  Oh,  it  is  a 
very  bad  vice  that  has  possessed  you ;  as,  for 
example,  should  you  be  inclined  to  speak  of 
anything  long — say  not,  according  to  your 
dreadful  custom,  that  it  is  as  long  as  the  main* 
top-bowling — for  who.  Sir  John,  knows  or  cares 
what  is  a  maintop-bowling  P^ 

*^  True,  cousin  Edward ;  the  ignorance  and 
carelessness  of  long-shore  gents  are  deplorable/ 

<^  But  say  it  is  as  long,  as  long,  as  long— as 
a--a ^ 

"  Tiresome  speech." 

^*  Yes,  that  would  do ;    but  it  would  not  do 


JACK    ASHORE.  97 

if  8  person  were  boring  you.  Everj  one  has  not 
Che  talent  of  conversing  agreeably :  you  will 
find  that  soon  enough/' 

**  I  have  found  it  already,  cousin." 

^  But  when  you  do  find  it,  you  must  not  tell 
them  so ;  it  would  deeply  offend  them.  But 
you  may  indulge  in  a  little  quiet  irony  at  their 
expense.  These  prosy  folks  are  generally  too 
dull,  and  too  much  taken  up  with  themselves, 
to  see  through  a  joke.*' 

<<  I  fully  understand  that.'' 

**  But,  above  all  other  things,  the  one  thing 
paramount,  and  the  one  thing  needful,  is  never 
to  seem  astonished.  Surprise  and  a  man  of 
fashion  are  incompatible.  Treat  everything 
with  supreme  indifference.  You  are  too  elevated 
to  let  the  casualties  of  life  have  any  the  least 
effect  upon  you*  Undervalue  everything.  If 
a  person  tells  you  anything,  look  as  if  you  had 
heard  it  before.  If  one  says  something  really 
witty,  though  I  confess  the  chance  is  very 
small,  pass  it  off  contemptuously,  with  a  sort 


38  JACK  ABHoms* 

of  a  couUUif-I-wouUi  air.  It  is  too  modi 
trouble  for  a  man .  of  rank  and  fiartune  to  be 
clever,  or  even  sensible.  Never  argue.  Argu* 
ment  must  lead  to  the  idea  of  some  intellectual 
effort— some  labour  of  the  mind ;  and  everjrthing 
that  baa  any  aflSnity  to  labour  is  utterly  beneatb 
the  notice  of  a  gentleman." 

^^  D n  it,  cousin ;  and  here  have  I  been 

toiling  fourteen  hours  a  day,  like  an  ass  with 
double  hampers,  and  I  might  have  been  a  first- 
rate  gentleman,  and.  have  done  all  this,  and 
still  have  been  the  greatest  dunce  and  idiot 
that  ever  sucked  his  thumb.'' 

**  Pardon  me.  Sir  John ;  you  have  already 
the  reputation,  I  can  tell  yoo,  of  having  had 
these  masters*  That  is  an  university  man-^ 
that  elegant  Lord  Landidand.  Does  he  un* 
derstand  Greek  or  Latin?  Not  a  word  at 
either.  Mathematics?— he  could  not  define  to 
you  the  properties  of  a  straight  line  so  well  as 
the  washerwoman  who  uses  one  to  hang  her 
linen   upon.     Any  boy  at  the  next  charity- 


JACK   ABUOBS.  39 

aehool  can  beat  him  at  EngUab  oompontion, 
and  bis  knowledge  of  numbere  is  hardly  suffi- 
cient to  enable  him  to  find  his  own  door  by  the 
digits  inscribed  upon  it.  Still,  mj  Lord  Landi* 
dand  is  a  man  of  learning  by  courtesy,  as  he 
is  a  lawmaker  by  nativity.  He  has  the  repu- 
tation of  an  university  education,  and  you,  that 
of  a  host  of  private  masters.  You  know  what 
you  both  are/' 

'<  Come,  come.  Sir  Edward,  if  I  can't  make 
a  better  man  of  fashion  than  this  stick  of  a 
lord,  I'll  go  and  be  captain  of  the  forecastle 
again ;  but,  however,  I  thank  you  for  your  ad- 
vice.    Is  that  all  ?"" 

'*  Yes.  Go,  and  be  as  impudent  as  the  affec- 
tation of  indifference  will  permit  you.  Bully 
the  men  with  the  coolness  of  polished  contempt, 
and  wheedle  the  women  into  a  belief  that  they 
require  nothing  but  the  loss  of  every  virtue  to 
be  goddesses ;  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  you 
may  yourself  become,  one  day,  the  leader  of 


40  JACK   ASHORE. 

fashion.    May  the  Graces  assist  you— you  stand 
in  need  of  them.'" 

Sir  Edward  departed,  and  Jack  whistled 
him  all  down  stairs,  and  birly  out  of  the  house, 
to  the  tune  of  **  The  Rogue's  March.** 


JACK   ASHOftb  41 


CHAPTER  II. 


Jack,  a  secoDd  time,  triM  his  hand  at  letter^writing— -Succeeda 
— His  cousin  grows  jeslons,  which  ia  bad,  and  shows  it, 
which  is  worse^Jsck  is  taught  how  to  behave  in  society^ 
Visits,  and  behaves  intolerably,  but  finally  whistles  him- 
self into  general  favour,  and  leaves  with  a  love  afiair  and 
two  duels  upon  his  hands." 

Sir  John  T&uefknny  returned  into  his  draw- 
ing-room, with  Mrs.  Cackletop^s  invitation  in 
his  hand.  For  some  time  he  stood  musing  in 
a  deep  melancholy.  He  was  sensibly  grieved 
at  the  changed  manners  of  Sir  Edward,  and 
rather  alarmed  at  the  sense  of  desertion  and  of 
loneliness  that  stole  over  him.  Now,  he  also 
felt  a  little  angry :  for  he  had  always  been,  and 


4^  JACK    ASHORE. 

Still  was,  willing  to  resign  everything  in  the 
favour  of  his  cousin,  and  in  every  way  wished 
to  promote  his  happiness  and  to  study  his  in- 
terests. He  already  felt  himself  ill-treated,  and 
then  he  began  to  judge  Sir  Edward's  conduct 
rather  too  severely. 

Under  the  influence  of  these  feelings,  he 
sat  down  to  write  his  first  note  to  a  lady.  As 
yet,  from  natural  modesty,  he  had  never  been 
able  to  bring  himself  to  use  his  own  title.  His 
note,  tolerably  spelled,  and  not  badly  though 
stiffly  written,  ran  thus  : — 

"  CaTendish  Square,  this  morning. 

^'  John  Truepenny  sends  his  humble  duty  to 
Miss  of  that  name"  (for  he  remembered  that  his 
master  in  English  composition  bad  forbidden 
him  to  make  repetitions,)  **  and  begs,  as  a  great 
favour,  that  Miss  ditto  will  teU  him,  in  con- 
fidence, if  Sir  Edward  Fortintower  is  in  right 
down  earnest  in  cutting  and  running ;  that  is 
to  say,  in  breaking  faith  with  ,you,  and  if  you 


JACK   ASHORE.  4>d 

are  to  wear  the  willow.  I  hope  that  you  will 
pardon  all  mistakes,  as  I  could  not  trust  my 
man-you-hen-sees  in  inditing  this.  So  no 
more  from  your  humble  servant  to  command, 

"  John  Truepenny." 

If  the  gracious  and  tolerant  reader  will  com- 
pare this  effusion  with  the  former  letter  that 
Jack  sent  to  Sir  Edward,  he  will  see  that  in- 
struction  had  not  been  thrown  away  upon  him. 
The  only  word  in  his  last,  that  he  had  spelt  in  the 
same  way  that  he  played  the  fiddle,  that  is,  by 
ear,  was  one  that  he  had  never  seen  written. 
At  this  period  there  was  much  hope  for  Jack. 

This  note  was  conveyed  to  Anne  Truepenny 
with  all  fitting  ceremony  i  and  the  footman 
speedily  brought  him  the  following  answer 
from  the  lady : — 


«f 


Harley  Street,  this  morning. 

^^  Anne  Truepenny  sends  her  best  wishes  to 
the  baronet  of  th|it  name,  and  begs,  as  a  great 


44  JACK    ASHOBE. 

favour  of  the  baronet  of  ditto,  not  to  judge  of 
Sir  Edward  harshly,  as  the  latter  has  cut»  but 
not  run,  and  Miss  ditto  is  very  well  content  to 
wear  the  willow  for  the  time,  as  she  thinks  it  a 
very  becoming  ornament.  Miss  ditto  also 
begs  to  observe,  that  the  absence  of  one  baronet 
ought  not  to  preclude  the  presence  of  another, 
so  you  may  come  and  see  me  as  soon  as  you 
like ;  and  so  no  more  from  your  humble  servant 
to  command, 

"  Akke  Teuepenny." 

Upon  this  little  document  Jack  cogitated 
deeply.  Extremely  unwilling  was  his  honest 
heart  to  admit  any  sentiment  of  disparagement 
towards  his  cousin.  He  remembered  the  mag- 
nanimity of  the  sacrifice  he  had  made  in  his 
favour,  and  all  his  subsequent  kindness.  Per- 
haps, after  all,  Sir  Edward  was  right  Then 
he  was  struck  the  more  forcibly  that  he  was 
the  stumbling-block — ^the  pit  dug  in  the  path 
of   both   his   benefactor  and  the  gentle  and 


JACK    ASHORR.  4^ 

accomplished  Anne.  He  then  resolved  to  take 
Giles  Grimm^s  advice^  and  marry.  Whom  ? 
His  judgment  and  his  gratitude  pronounced 
loudly  the  name  of  Susan  Snowdrop,  but  his 
heart  would  not  yet  answer  to  the  summons* 
So  Jack  determined  to  go  into  all  the  society 
to  which  he  was  accessible,  and  choose  for  him- 
self. 

In  an  establishment  so  complete  as  was  Sir 
John  Truepenny's,  there  was  no  danger  that 
there  should  be  any  deficiency  in  the  sailor 
baronet's  outward  appearance.  That  night, 
when  he  repaired  to  Mrs.  Cackletop%  he  was 
not  only  fashionably  but  faultlessly  dressed. 
As  the  sea-lion  was  expected,  every  one  who 
bad  presence  of  mind  enough  to  confess  that 
she  or  he  was  in  town  in  October,  crowded  the 
lady's  room.  They  expected  to  see  some 
monster — some  blustering,  swearing,  rude  tar- 
paulin. Sir  John  Truepenny  was  announced. 
Every  one  started,  and  suddenly  the  hum  of 
many  voices  ceased.    The  door  opened ;  and  a 


46  JACK  ASHORE. 

gentleman,  with  a  countenance  almost  effemi- 
nately beautiful,  of  a  tall  and  majestic  pre- 
sence, and  attired  with  all  the  r^herchc  ele- 
gance of  a  courtly  nobleman,  entered  the  room. 
The  hostess  had  advanced  some  steps  to  meet 
him,  but  seeing  herself  before  something  so  un- 
expectedly imposing,  she  stopped  short,  hesi- 
tated, and  curtseying  with  a  great  deal  of 
deference  to  the  distinguished  unknown,  said — 
*•  May  I  crave  the  honour  of  your  title  ? — I^ex- 
pected  a  certain  Sir  John  Truepenny — I  thought 
that  was  the  name  announced.  Some  mistake, 
no  doubt*' 

Now,  Jack  was  brimful  of  his  lesson  of  cool 
indifference  and  impudent  apathy.  So,  with  a 
supercilious  smile,  and  lisping  out  hi^  words 
slowly,  he  replied,  "  Better — ^go — ^and — see  ;*' 
and  then  taking  no  more  notice  of  the  hostess, 
he  dawdled  listlessly  to  the  upper  end  of  the 
room,  seated  himself  between  two  of  the  hand- 
somest ladies  present,  crossed  one  leg  over  the 
other,  and,  in  obedience  to  his  cousin's  instruo- 


JACK    ASHORC.  47 

tions,  began  to  fondle  his  very  handsome  and 
muscular  calf* 

In  the  mean  time  the  lady  had  ascertained 
that  her  guest  was  the  actual  Sir  John  expected ; 
and  when  the  rest  of  the  company  had  pro- 
nounced the  stranger  decidedly  elegant,  and 
perfectly  accustomed  to  the  best  society,  she 
accosted  him  by  extending  her  hand,  and  say- 
ing, in  an  emphatically  loud  tone,  **  Sir  John 
Truepenny,  I  am  most  happy  to  make  your  ac- 
quaintance.^' 

Sir  John  neither  rose  nor  noticed  the  offered 
hand.  He  simply  contented  himself  by  affect- 
ing to  yawn,  and  saying,  *'  I've  heard  as 
much," 

Every  one  stared,  the  lady  became  confused, 
and  was  much  mortified.  This  looked  almost 
insulting ;  and  yet,  to  believe  so  handsome  and 
so  well-dressed  a  person  could  be  rude,  was 
difficult — very  difficult.  She  rallied,  and  said, 
**  She  did  not  doubt  it ;  he  had  heard  bnly  the 
truth.     Every  one  would  be  desirous  of  making 


48  JACK    A8HOEE. 

the  acquaintance  of  a  gentleman  so  distin- 
guished, not  only  by  the  romantic  story  of  his 
former  life,  but  by  his  elegant  person  and  man* 
ners*  She  was  privileged  to  say  this,  and,  at 
the  risk  of  being  thought  singular,  would  say 
it  even  to  his  face." 

**  Well,  madam,  thafs  cool;  I  would  return 
the  compliment  if  I  could :  in  the  mean  time, 
I  am,  madam,  your  most  obedient,  and — ^very — 
humble  servant.  Don^t  you  think,  miss?'*  (turn- 
ing to  the  lady  at  his  side) — ^  ah  !  ah  !  that 
is  to  say,  if  you  are  a  miss.** 

The  lady  bowed,  and  smiled  graciously. 

"  That  is  to  say — ^ah — that  I  have  quite  for- 
gotten what  I  was  going  to  say  I  Oh,  Mistress 
Cackletop,  you  were  speaking.**  So  taking 
out  his  tooth-pick  deliberately,  he  began  to 
pick  his  teeth  in  the  most  approved  style.  **  Go 
on — I  am  at  leisure.^ 

**  Well,  in  these  hard  times  it  is  something 
to  be  listened  to,^  said  the  lady,  good-humour- 
edly.  **  Will  you  have  some  music.  Sir 
John  r 


JACK    A8HOBK.  49 

*'  Why,  yes,  if  it  is  good — ^not  else.'* 

"  Sir  John  Truepenny,"  said  a  young  fop, 
^'  in  this  mansion  you  will  hear  nothing  but 
what  is  good.** 

**  And  you  allowed  to  prate !  Boh !  who 
spoke  to  you  ?**  "  Bully  the  men,"  thought 
Jack  ;  "  now  111  begin.'' 

**  I  must  impute  this  language,  Sir  John 
Truepenny *^ 

**  Hark  ye,  younker,''  said  Jack,  starting  up, 
and  looking  quite  fierce  enough  for  the  lion  of 
that  or  of  any  other  party — '*  111  have  no  im- 
puting  in  this  respectable  company.  How  do 
you  dare,  sirrah,  to  go  about  to  be  imputing? 
You  may  dispute  if  you  like ;  but  then  it  shall 
not  be  with  me.  Impute  !  you  unconscionable 
young  sinner  !  if  you  dare  to  impute " 

"  What  then.  Sir  John  ?"  said  the  young 
gentleman,  turning  a  little  pale. 

**  ril  kick  you  down  stairs — you  are  just  the 
build  for  it.'* 

Here  the  men  began  to  interfere  and  bluster, 

VOL.    III.  0 


60  JACK    ASHORE* 

and  the  women  to  be  prettily  fearful,  whilst 
Jack  reseated  himself^  and  by  his  self-satisfied 
and  complacent  smile  seemed  heartily  to  enjoy 
the  hubbub  he  had  created* 

The  affronted  young  gentlemen,  a  Mr.  Daw- 
son,  left  the  room,  but,  on  leaving  it,  he  left  his 
friend  behind,  and  his  card ;  which  friend  left 
his  card  with  Jack,  requesting  Jack^s  permission 
to  call  upon  him  early  to-morrow  morning. 
Jack,  affecting  to  misunderstand  him,  was  gra- 
ciously pleased  to  grant  his  request,  if  he  would 
promise  to  behave  himself  and  not  peep  down 
the  area,  for  he  would  have  no  poaching  on  his 
manor. 

Either  from  the  eccentricity  of  the  speech, 
or  from  the  known  character  of  Captain  Brew 
for  menial  gallantry,  which  made  Jack's  ran- 
dom shot  tell,  all  the  ladies  began  to  titter. 
This  threw  the  man  military  into  a  most  pas- 
sionate and  militant  humour.  With  many 
oaths,  he  said  noble  things  about  honour,  death, 
and,  we  are  sorry  to  add,  about  damnation. 

^'  Pooh,  pooh  r  said  Jack ;  *'  keep  yourself 


4< 


«C 


JACK    ASHORE.  51 

cool— easy — easy — now  there — the  man's  vexed  ; 
— ^look  at  me— calm,  sir,  calm — a  pretty  cap- 
tain, and  can't  command  himself — quarrels  be- 
fore ladies — la — la !  O  fie !  what  would  the 
good  woman,  your  aunt,  say  P^ 
By  G — d,  this  is  intolerable. '^ 
DonH  boil  up  so,  little  man.  I  would 
advise  you  to  get  a  tooth-pick,  if  you  had  any 
teeth.     Men  never  swear  while  they  use  one." 

"  To  be  overhauled  thus — to  be  run  down 
by  such  a  sea-brute.*' 

**  Shockingly  vulgar,  Captain  Brew — too 
vulgar  for  me  to  associate  with.  Ladies,  the 
low-bred  man  makes  use  of  sea  terms.     Beneath 

my  notice.^ 

**  The  company  alone  prevents  my  inflicting 
personal  chastisement  on  you,  monster  P 

^*  Has  he  no  old  nurse  to  take  care  of  him  ?'* 
said  Jack,  with  an  easy  contempt. 

Captain  Brew  bowed  in  silence  to  the  hostess, 
and  had  nearly  reached  the  door,  when  Sir 
John  strode  after  him,  and  seizing  him  by  the 

o  2 


52  JACK  A8HOBB. 

arm,  with  a  gripe  that  made  him  wince,  he  led 
him  to  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  said,  ^  I  per- 
fectly understand  what  you  and  your  friend 
mean.  I  donH  think  him  much  better  than  an 
impertinent  puppy,  and  you  a  detestable  make- 
bate.  Arrange  time,  place,  and  tools ;  let  me 
know  early  to-morrow  morning,  and  1*11  attend 
to  you  both,  for  my  quarrel  is  with  both.  I 
shall  inquire  your  character  to-night,  and  deal 
with  you  accordingly.     Be  off." 

*^  Atrocious  blackguard  !  youMl  repent  this," 
said  the  captain  as  he  departed,  pale  with  rage. 

Jack  returned  to  his  seat,  with  the  most 
vapid  and  unconcerned  air  possible.  As  he 
passed  along,  a  huge  proud-looking  man  eyed 
him  attentively  through  his  glass.  Jack  thought 
this  to  be  an  impertinence,  so  he  intentionally 
trod  as  heavily  as  he  could  on  his  foot.  The 
sufferer  drew  up  his  leg  with  the  contortions 
of  agony  on  his  countenance.  Jack  stared  at 
him  with  the  vacant  look  of  unconscious  inno- 
cence. 


JACK   ASHORE.  53 

"  Damn  it,  sir  ! — do  you  know  you  have  trod 
on  my  toes  P'* 

'^  Bless  me !  did  I  ?  you  had  better  pack 
them  up  small,  and  put  them  in  your  waistcoat 
pocket" 

"  Insufferable !  Why,  sir,  did  you  tread 
upon  my  toes  ?" 

"  Come,  now,  that's  good.  Why  did  you 
thrust  your  dirty  bits  of  gristle  under  my  heel  ? 
The  oppression  and  wanton  cruelty  one  meets 
with  in  good'  society  is  dreadful — too  much  for 
my  delicate  nerves — I  must  repose.'* 

"  My  cloth  is  your  protection,  sir.** 

**  Damned  badly  protected  I  should  be,  if  I 
depended  on  it" 

Having  regained  his  seat,  he  was  informed 
by  a  communicative  lady  that  he  had  just 
offended  the  Bishop  of . 

The  music  began,  and  an  elaborate  concerto 
piece  was  played  by  some  foreign  musicians, 
during  which  Sir  John  yawned  prodigiously. 
When  it  was  over,  Mrs,  Cackletop  asked  him 
if  he  had  been  amused. 


54  JACK  ASHOBK. 

"  Not  in  the  least.'* 

*'  But  you  told  me  you  were  fond  of  music '*' 

"  I  am— if  good." 

"  Was  not  that  piece  good  ?*^ 

"  If  the  music  had  been  played — ^it  wasn't 
played  at  all — only  spoiled." 

With  a  contemptuous  air  the  lady  said, 
^'  Perhaps  you  know  how  it  should  have  been 
played." 

«  Certainly." 

"  Will  you  show  us  how  ?"  said  she,  taunt- 
ingly. 

"  If  you  like." 

'*  Nothing  could  be  a  greater  favour." 

^^  This  is  the  way  the  air  should  have  been 
given,"  said  Jack,  and  he  then  whistled  the  piece 
all  through.  The  company  were  taken  by  sur- 
prise; they  were  enchanted ;  they  gathered  round 
him ;  they  held  their  breaths ;  no  other  sound 
was  heard  until  he  had  finished,  and  then  the 
applause  was  rapturous.  No  one  had  ever 
conceived  that  the  compressed  lips  could  prove 


JACK  ASHORE.  55 

an  iDstrument  of  music  so  complete  and  so 
powerful.  It  was  a  natural  gift  that  Jack 
possessed}  and  in  the  excellence  of  which  he 
had  never  been  surpassed. 

Jack  received  all  the  compliments  and  the 
encomiums  which  were  heaped  upon  him,  with 
the  air  of  one  excessively  wearied.  Already 
he  had  risen  immeasurably  in  the  estimation 
of  every  one ;  even  the  bishop  forgot  his 
crushed  toes,  smiled  upon  him,  and  told  him 
that  he  was  a  gifted  individual.  Had  Jack 
discoursed  to  that  company  with  the  wis* 
dom  of  a  Bacon,  the  piety  of  a  Fenelon,  or 
the  inspiration  of  a  Shakspeare,  he  would  not 
have  gained  a  tithe  of  the  consideration  that  he 
had  procured  by  a  whistle.  He  had  become  at 
once  an  established  lion. 

Sir  John  was  now  the  focus  of  all  attraction, 
and  he  fooled  the  company  and  himself  to  the 
utmost.  He  was  sharp  and  bullying ;  ineffably 
conceited  and  indifferent  by  turns  to  the  men, 
and  either  insolent  or  extravagant  to  the 
women.      Everything    now    was    well    taken. 


56  JACK   ASHOUB. 

When  his  words  conveyed  a  single  idea,  his 
auditors  fancied  there  were  at  least  ten;  and 
when  none  at  all,  they  puzzled  themselves  to 
discover  something  wonderful  and  abstruse. 

Jack  knew  his  value,  and  no  persuasions 
could  induce  him  to  whistle  again,  though  they 
fell  from  very  beautiful  lips,  and  were  conveyed 
in  very  musical  words.  Mrs.  Cackletop  petted 
him  outrageously.  If  he  opened  his  mouth, 
only  to  "  roar  ye,  as  gently  as  a  sucking  dove," 
she  held  up  her  cautionary  fan  to  the  inatten- 
tive, and  commanded  silence.  Eleven  very 
promising  young  men  had  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  Jack  would  be  the  vogue,  and  they 
studied  him  with  more  assiduity  than  they  ever 
did  their  lessons.  They  might  all  be  seen 
picking  their  teeth  at  one  time,  and  sitting, 
like  Jack,  cross-legged  at  another — feeling  in 
vain  for  calves  that  were  not. 

Incidentally,  Sir  John  gathered  from  various 
inquiries  the  character  of  Captain  Brew.  He 
was  one  of  those  animals  of  prey  that   roam 


JACK   A8H0BE.  57 

about  town,  a  gambler  and  a  man  of  honour ; 
having  no  property,  and  faring  sumptuously 
every  day;  received  in  the  best  of  societys 
though  he  would  have  disgraced  the  worst ;  a 
successful  fighter  of  duels  himself,  and  a  pro* 
moter  of  them  in  others :  a  very  common 
character  in  all  luxurious  societies.  Pro- 
vidence has  ordained  that  every  animal  should 
be  the  prey  to  some  other ;  and  where  fools 
abound,  there  will  sharpers  be  found  plentiful. 
But  still  Captain  Brew  was  one  of  a  high  order. 
He  really  was  well  born,  still  held  his  com- 
mission in  the  army,  and  had  served  with 
bravery,  and  earned  for  himself  military  dis- 
tinction. He  was  a  bold  bad  man.  Jack 
learned  enough  not  to  be  very  scrupulous  on 
his  account. 

Just  as  the  party  were  about  to  descend  to 
the  supper-table,  a  little  incident  occurred  that 
had  a  marked,  nay,  a  controlling  effect  upon 

Sir  John's  future  fortunes.  A  very  pretty 
prattler,    with    a   very   active  female    tongue, 

D  6 


68  JACK   ASHORE. 

asked  him  how  he  bad  been  amused  by  the 
party. 

"  Bored — ^bored — wearied  to  death  .^ 

'<  Then  why  did  you  come  at  all  ?  Am  I  not 
worthy  an  answer  ?  had  you  any  purpose  at  all 
in  coming  ?** 

*^  YeSy  I  bad,  miss,"  said  Jack,  in  his  natural 
and  abrupt  manner. 

^*  For  heaven's  sake  let  me  know  it !  How 
you  have  altered  !     What  was  it,  Sir  John  1" 

^<  I  came  to  lose  myself,  and  find  a  wife.*^ 

There  was  a  titter  from  every  expectant 
within  hearing,  and  every  unmarried  lady  was 
expectant.  But  one  peculiarly  infantine  laugh 
Jock  fancied  he  had  heard  before. 

"  Truly,  soberly,  seriously,  are  you  in  ear- 
nest ?" 

"  Truly,  soberly,  seriously,  I  am  in  ear- 
nest." 

"  Well,  then,  you  have  only  to  look  round." 

'^  O  whistle  and  111  come  to  you  my 
lad !"    softly   sang  a  very  sweet    voice,  and 


JACK   A8HORK.  59     ~ 

which  proceeded  from  some  one  who  was  con- 
cealed by  a  group  of  the  ladies  that,  since  his 
display,  had  not  ceased  to  stand  round  Sir 
John.  Jack  whistled  the  bar  of  *^  Will  you 
have  a  jolly  sailor  !^*  when  a  giggle  was  heard, 
and,  for  a  moment,  the  Hebe  and  simple  coun- 
tenance of  Miss  Scrivener  was  thrust  between 
the  two  haggard  countenances  of  two  maidens 
well  advanced  in  ye^s,  and  then  instantly 
withdrawn.  Shortly  afterwards,  all  conscious 
and  blushing,  she  was  seated  by  Sir  John,  and 
he  led  her  to  the  supper-table. 


60  JACK  A8HORK. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Jaek*8  doable  duel,  and  his  angular  prepaimtiona — Beata  both 
bis  adversaries,  snd  oomea  off  with  fljing  edloiin — Jack's 
school  of  fencing  prored  to  be  the  best — He  makea  rarioas 
friends,  who  make  themselrea  rery  free,  particalarly  at  Jack  s 
expense. 

Notwithstanding  Mr.  Scrivener's  unsuc- 
cessful journey  to  Portsmouth — unsuccessful 
so  far  as  to  the  attainment  of  the  principal 
object  he  had  in  view ;  notwithstanding  his 
unrepaid  outlay  for  €ags  and  bands ;  notwith* 
standing  that  his  bill  of  costs  was  rigidly  taxed ; 
— ^yet  he  had  contrived  to  pay  all  his  expenses, 
and  to  put  what  hec  ailed  a  pretty  surplus  penny 
in  his  pocket.     Though  thus  partially  defeated. 


JACK   ASHOBE.  61 

he  never  despaired.  He  looked  upon  our  hero 
as  his  predestined  prey,  and  on  this  subject  no 
Turk  was  ever  stronger  in  his  belief  of  predes- 
tination. Consequently,  he  never  lost  sight 
of  him.  He  informed  himself  of  all  his  mo* 
tions,  and,  in  spite  of  many  repulses,  he  was 
determined  to  force  upon  him  his  acquaintance, 
and,  if  possible,  to  extort  from  him  his  con- 
fidence. 

The  principal  engine  to  effect  this  was  a 
delicate  and  beautiful  one — his  fair  and  simple 
daughter,  Eugenia  Elfrida.  It  was  to  Mr. 
Scrivener  that  Sir  Edward  was  indebted  for 
those  soul-touching  insinuations  that  had  ap- 
peared in  the  public  papers.  These,  with  the 
turn  of  events,  had  decided  the  conduct  of  that 
cautious  gentleman.  No  sooner  had  Mr.  Scri- 
vener been  informed  that  Jack  was  to  make 
his  first  appearance  in  society,  than,  at  an 
hour's  notice^  he  had  contrived  to  procure  an 
invitation  for  himself  and  daughter;  and,  in 
order  the  better  to  observe  our  hero's  conduct. 


62  JACK  ASHORE. 

and  shape  his  course  accordingly)  he  had  kept 
her  and  himself  out  of  his  sight  until  what 
he  deemed  the  proper  moment  for  appear- 
ance. 

We  have  nothing  more  to  record  of  this 
eventful  evening  than  the  last  part  of  the  dia- 
logue between  him  and  Miss  Scrivener,  which 
took  place  after  supper  and  much  cham* 
pagne. 

^*  One  kiss,  Hugee — only  one  kiss  for  poor 
Jack*** 

*'  La,  now !  for  shame ;  how  can  you  be  so. 
Sir  John  ?- 

**  141  be  anything,  pretty,  precious  Hugee — 
only  one  little  tiny  one.'' 

«<  You  sailors  do  get  on  so.  You  would  not 
have  me  kiss  you  in  all  this  bustle,  you 
naughty  man,  you.  I  wouldn't  for  a  ship-load 
of  gold  * 

*'  Only  now  give  me  a  squeeze  with  your 
delicate  little  flipper — ^your  hand  noW|  pretty 
one — as  an  earnest  you  will  give  me  the  other 


JACK    ASHORE.  63 

the  first  opportunity.  Strike  me  comfortable  if 
I  dcm't  love  you  dearly.** 

'*  Well,  then,  I  will  now,  Sir  John,  if  you 
wonH  think  ill  of  me^-on  one  condition." 

'*  O  you  angel,  I  adore  conditions  and  you 
too— only  name  it" 

^*  Dear,  dear  Sir  John,  only  just  go  up  to 
papa,  and  shake  hands  with  him.  Won^t  you, 
now?" 

Jack  looked  at  Mr.  Scrivener,  who  was 
looking  at  both  of  them  from  a  convenient 
distance^  and  whistled  the  three  first  notes  of 
the  old  tune ;  and  then  he  turned  his  eyes  upon 
the  beaming,  beautiful  countenance  of  Eugenia, 
and  was  conquered.  He  walked  up  to  Mr. 
Scrivener,  took  hold  of  his  too  willing  hand, 
and  shaking  it,  exclaimed,  **  How  are  ye^  law- 
yer, how  are  ye  ?" 

Mr.  Scrivener  bad  gained  his  point,  and  all 
his  wishes  now  seemed  easily  attainable. 

Sir  John  was  assiduous  in  seeing  the  young 
lady  to  her  father's  carriage ;  and,  amidst  the 
noise  and  confusion  of  many  departures,  there 


64  JACK   A8HOHE. 

was  distinctly  heard  a  reverberating  smack, 
that  the  dreamy  watchman  in  the  next  street 
mistook  for  the  springing  of  his  rattle  by  a 
brother  dreamer.  The  conscious  *^  La,  you 
there  now  P  of  Miss  Scrivener,  gave  an  explana- 
tion to  the  noise,  that  was  exceedingly  pleasing 
to  her  father. 

That  gentleman  did  not  immediately  drive 
home,  but  repaired  first  to  Bow-street ;  and, 
much  to  his  mortification,  he  found  the 
office  closed.  He  had  now  a  watchful,  even 
a  parental  care  for  Sir  John ;  and  he  did  not 
intend  that  his  throat  should  be  cut,  at  least 
for  the  present.  He  considered  [that  he  had 
an  undoubted  right  to  the  first  bleeding. 

Jack  went  to  rest  in  a  delirium  of  tumultuous 
feelings,  for  the  most  part  triumphant  and 
pleasurable.  As  he  sank  to  rest  among  heaps 
of  the  softest  down,  he  forgot  the  forecastle  of 
the  "  Old  Glory,**  and  no  longer  envied  Giles 
Grimm  the  command  of  his  yacht. 

At  six  in  the  morning  he  was  awoke  from  a 
very  blissful  dream  of  champagne.  Miss  Scri- 


»ACK    ASHOBE.  65 

vener,  and  a  romp  in  the  fields  near  Portseat  to 
an  invitation  to  small  swords^  and  a  little  choice 
carving  at  the  human  frame  divine. 

Jack  got  up  grumbling  and  swearing,  on  ^hat 
cold  foggy  October  morning.  He  well  under- 
stood that  in  this  step  he  must  bear  himself  not 
only  manfully,  but  with  those  attentions  to 
etiquette  that  his  present  station,  and  the  new 
character  with  which  he  wished  to  invest  him- 
self, demanded.  He  found  in  the  drawing- 
room  a  gaunt  warrior-looking  man,  that  grinned 
a  ferocious  satisfaction,  and  evinced  a  grim 
delight  in  the  office  he  came  to  fulfil.  It  was 
to  measure  swords,  and  to  fix  the  place  and 
time  of  meeting. 

At  that  period  duels  were  rarely  fought 
with  pistols,  and  small  swords  were  looked 
upon  as  a  necessary  appendage  to  the  dress 
of  a  gentleman.  It  so  happened  that  Jack's 
sword  was  about  an  inch  shorter  than  those 
of  his  two  antagonists;  but  this  advantage 
he  willingly  waived ;  and  then  the  belligerent 


66  JACK   ASHORE^ 

amboBsador  haTing  mtimatedi  and  very  accu- 
rately described,  a  certain  field  at  the  back  of 
Islington  churchy  and  the  hour  eight,  with  much 
formality  he  took  his  leave. 

Sir  John  Truepenny  called  to  him  his  ama- 
nuensisy  with  whom  he  took  counsel.  He  had 
become  much  attached  to  this  youth;  and,  it 
was  only  out  of  regard  to  the  advice  of  Sir 
Edward,  that  he  had  not  already  admitted  him 
to  the  familiarity  of  friendship.  It  was  need* 
ful  that  our  hero  should  have  a  second,  but, 
from  the  state  of  seclusion  in  which  he  had 
been  immured,  there  was  no  one  with  whom  he 
could  take  the  liberty  of  requesting  his  attend- 
ance. The  office  of  second  was  not,  at  that 
time,  one  of  so  little  personal  danger  as  it  is 
at  present.  Upon  the  most  frivolous  pretences, 
the  seconds  would  themselves  engage;  these 
pretences  they  would  seek  for,  and  create ;  and 
even  if  the  principals  were  rather  slow  at  their 
tierce  and  quarte,  or  the  weather  was  too  cold 
to  make  idly  standing  agreeable,  or  even  the 


JACK  ASHOBE.  67 

canine  propensity  to  pugnacity — each  of  these 
was  often  a  sufficient  motive  for  extracting  the 
steel,  and  making  a  few  passes  at  each  other, 
merely  pour  passer  le  temps. 

Now,  Sir  John  would  not  expose  his  cousin 
to  all  these  risks,  which  were  fully  displayed  to 
him  by  Mr.  Hawkins ;  and  he  knew  enough  of 
the  character  of  his  lawyer  not  to  invite  him  to 
a  breakfast  in  which  the  powers  of  digestion 
would  very  probably  be  tried  upon  cold  iron. 
His  amanuensis  would  most  willingly  have 
offered  himself,  but  for  two  reasons : — ^in  the 
first  place,  he  could  not  fence;  and,  in  the 
next,  though  he  knew  what  ought  to  be  done 
on  the  field,  from  inexperience  he  did  not  know 
how  to  do  it*  At  length,  this  gentleman  re^ 
membered  an  old,  half-pay,  fire-eating  lieute- 
nant of  marines,  who,  being  disabled  in  the 
arm,  and  wanting  a  leg,  could  not  be  invited 
himself  into  the  afiray.  He  was  immediately 
brought  —  introductions  passed  rapidly  —  and 


(i8  JACK   ASHOKB. 

the  offer  to  attend  Sir  John  to  the  field  was 
eagerly  accepted. 

The  preparations  were  soon  effected,  and 
short  as  was  the  time  they  occupied,  it  was  suf- 
ficient for  the  planting,  the  growth,  and  the 
maturity  of  a  sudden  friendship  between  them. 
They  proceeded  in  Sir  John's  carriage  to 
Islington,  and,  during  the  drive,  much  was  the 
excellent  advice  that  he  received  from  bis 
second.  Jack  listened  to  it  with  admirable 
sangfroid^  and  quite  astonished  his  friend  when 
he  toid  him  that  he  had  not  made  his  will. 

**  Well,*  said  the  marine  oflScer,  **  I  shall 
take  every  care  that,  on  the  first  blood  that  is 
drawn  from  you,  I  shall  interfere ;  and  if  the 
first  gentleman  does  but  scratch  you,  the  other 
shall  not  even  draw  his  sword.  Sir  John  True- 
penny,  I  must  take  care  of  your  valuable 
Kfe.* 

Sir  John  was  much  obliged. 

*^  But,"  continued  his  friend,  ^*  have  you  no 


JACK   A8H0RE.  69 

message  to  deliver — ^no  letter  to  send,  in  case  of 
accident  ?  for,  really,  this  Captain  Brew  is  ugly 
at  his  small  sword,  and  a  very  mischievous 
man.  It  would  not  become  me  to  tell  you  how 
many  he  has  killed,  and  how  many  more 
wounded.  Not  that  I  believe  one  quarter  that 
is  said— but  the  fellow  has  a  reputation,  which 
makes  him  very  bold  in  the  field.** 

**  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  friend  Lieutenant 
Franks  of  the  royal  marines — *^ 

*'  Captain,  if  you  please,  Sir  John ;  though  I 
am,  strictly  speaking,  but  a  lieutenant.  I  have 
been  invalided  upon  the  half-pay  of  a  captain, 
and  gentlemen,  in  courtesy,  generally  allow  me 
the  rank." 

^^  I  am  sure  that  I  will  call  you  colonel,  or 
even  general,  if  that  will  give  you  any  pleasure 
— for  I  don't  doubt  you  would  be  one  or  the 
other,  if  you  had  your  proper  rating.  How- 
ever, we  must  not  grumble, ;  for  though  I 
served  his  majesty  near  upon  twenty  years, 
like  yourself,  they  only  made  me  a  captain.** 


70  JACK   ASHORE. 

**  Indeed,  Sir  John  ! — ^hum — hah !  I  did 
hear  an  awkward  story  that  you  were  before 
the  mast.  You  were  last  on  board  of  the 
Glory,  if  I  mistake  not  7* 

"  You  are  quite  right — ^you  lay  your  course 
exactly." 

**  And  was  not  Captain  Firebrass,  an  old 
shipmate  of  mine^  the  captain  ?^ 

"  Yes,  ye»— but  you  marines  are  so  dull. 
He  was  captain  of  all  the  ship,  whilst  I  merely 
relieved  him  from  the  care  of  the  forecastle — I 
was  captain  ^  there — but  didn't  trouble  myself 
with  mounting  the  swabs — left  them  in  the 
head.  I  hope  you  are  not  ashamed  of  me 
now.  Captain  Franks."* 

*'  Not  a  bit.  You  were  bom  a  gentleman, 
and,  whilst  you  bore  yourself  honestly,  in  any 
capacity  however  humble,  you  were  the  gen- 
tleman still.  But  here  we  are^  and  no  doctor, 
I  declare." 

<^  Never  mind,^'  said  Jack ;  '*  perhaps  there's 
one  among  the  enemy,  for  there  seems  enough 


JACK    ASHORE.  71 

of  them — if  not,  why  a  sword-wound,  if  it  is 
home  to  the  vitals,  no  surgeon  can  help  ye; 
and  if  it  is  not,  why,  I  am  too  old  a  man-of* 
war^s  man  not  to  know  how  to  make  a  toumi* 
quet  with  a  handkerchief.  Now,  Captain 
Franks,  I  must  come  it  grand,  and  drop  the 
forecastle." 

This  short  conversation,  and  something  more 
to  the  same  effect,  took  place  in  their  walk 
from  Islington  to  the  meadow.  It  was  well 
selected  for  the  little  ceremony,  being  retired, 
and  surrounded  by  a  high  hedge,  well  stocked 
with  trees,  now  rich  in  their  autumnal  foliage. 
Captain  Brew  had  invited  several  of  his  friends 
to  be  present,  as  if  by  accident,  promising  them 
some  fun,  and  assuring  them  of  his  magna'- 
nimity,  inasmuch  as  he  intended  only  to  pink 
or  disarm  the  ignorant  sailor.  The  young  gen* 
tleman,  Mr.  Dawson,  did  not  find  it  so  plea- 
sant a  joke.  He  looked,  though  pale,  calm 
and  collected,  but  certainly  not  eager  for 
the  fray. 


72  JACK    ASHOBE. 

When  those  assembled  saw  the  uapolished* 
yet  bold  and  noble  bearing  of  Jack»  some 
thought  it  pity  that  so  fine  a  man  should  be 
pricked  to  death)  and  his  handsome  body  made 
a  pincushion  for  the  wary  old  fencer  to  dib  in 
**  his  passes  of  practice ;"  whilst  others  thought 
that  the  latter  would  not  find  the  pastime 
either  easy  or  pleasant 

Captain  Franks  having  duly  given  in  his 
credentials^  and  put  in  Sir  John's  waver  of  right 
as  to  equality  in  the  length  of  the  swords,  they 
prepared  for  mischief,  by  the  principals  strip* 
ping  themselves  to  their  shirts,  as  respected 
their  upper  garments.  Both  Captain  Brew 
and  Mr.  Dawson  adjusted  themselves  for  the 
combat,  when  the  captain  stepped  forward,  and 
demanded  the  first  essay.  Now,  this  was  done 
for  a  valuable  consideration  from  Mr.  Dawson  ; 
and  it  was  with  dismay  that  the  latter  heard 
Jack  demand  him  for  his  first  opponent. 

Hereupon  a  great  deal  of  blustering  and 
argument    ensued,     not     only     between    the 


JACK    ASHORE.  73 

seconds,    but   the    principals   also   took   their 
share  in  it. 

But  Captain  Franks  was  firm.  The  chal- 
lenge of  Mr.  Dawson  had  the  priority,  and  the 
marine  officer  was  determined  that  the  priority 
of  the  encounter  also  should  be  his.  There 
seemed  so  much  reason  in  this,  that  Brew  was 
forced  reluctantly  to  yield,  though  not  without 
the  consolation  of  knowing  that  he  had  pocketed 
the  fee,  and  that  he  should  be  able  more  safely 
to  glory  over  a  man  weakened  or  wearied  by 
previous  exertion. 

Now  Jack,  in  all  his  positions  of  difficulty, 
had  adopted,  and  rigidly  adhered  to,  the  wise 
rule  of  saying  as  little  as  possible.  Before  they 
crossed  their  weapons,  he  was  asked  if  he  would 
not  consent  to  print  an  apology  in  the  papers. 
He  shook  his  head,  and  pointed  to  his  second. 
The  latter  replied,  that  as  it  was  Sir  John's 
first  affair,  the  business  must  proceed. 

When  the  two  combatants  commenced,  it  was 
remarked  that  Jack's  attitude  was  ungainly,  and 

VOL.  III.  K 


7i  JACK   ASHORB. 

that  he  haadled  his  weapoD  without  any  regard  to 
the  laws  of  the  science.  Indeed,  he  carried  him- 
self so  awkwardly,  and  seemed  so  inexpert,  that 
two  of  the  gentlemen  who  were  present  as  ama- 
teurs wished  to  interfere,  saying,  that  they 
could  not  permit  so  ignorant  a  person  to  be 
sacrificed.  John  darted  thunderbolts  at  them, 
in  the  guise  of  black  looks,  and  Captain  Franks 
peremptorily  denounced  any  interruption. 

All  this  encouraged  the  young  gentleman,  who 
began  to  feint,  degager,  pass,  and  recover,  secun- 
dum artem^ — very  much  to  his  own  satisfaction, 
and  the  admiration  of  the  bystanders. 

Jack  smiled  carelessly  at  all  this  display,  but 
still  kept  a  wary  eye  upon  his  adversary's  antics, 
who,  grown  bold  from  impunity,  became  more  ac- 
tive and  vigorous  than  even  Yet,  to  the  surprise 
of  everybody.  Jack  remained  untouched,  though 
he  made  not  a  single  parry  that  was  not  here- 
tical, and  consequently  damnable,  according  to 
all  rule.  He  seemed  to  know  only,  that  sort  of 
natural  defence  which  an  old  woman   with  a 


JACK   ASHORE.  76 

< 

broomstick  in  her  hand  would  employ  against 
the  attacks  of  a  long-necked  gander. 

The  young  gentleman,  with  the  violence  of  the 
exercise,  began  to  grow  heated,  when,  on  a  sud- 
den, to  his  unqualified  astonishment,  he  saw  his 
own  sword  flying  through  the  air,  and  Jack^s 
within  an  inch  of  his  throat.  Mr.  Dawson  had 
just  time  to  find  his  right  arm  nearly  wrenched 
from  its  socket,  and  to  feel  the  point  of  his  op- 
ponent's sword  tickle  the  lower  part  of  his  neck ; 
but,  before  he  had  time  to  relax  from  his  fixed 
stare  of  fright.  Jack  lowered  his  weapon,  and 
making  a  bow  that  his  dancing-master  would 
not  have  claimed,  he  said  aloud — 

**  Gentlemen  all,  I  was  clear  in  the  wrong. 
I  was  very  offensive  to  this  gentleman  last  night ; 
wherefore  I  beg  his  pardon  for  it,  and  hope 
he^U  shake  hands  with  me,  and  not  bear 
malice.*' 

Mr.  Dawson  seized  Jack^s  hand  with  eager- 
ness, and  we  really  believe,  whilst  he  shook  it 
heartily,  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes.     Of  this 

e2 


76  JACK    A8H0RK. 

we  are  not  sure :  but  he  said  not  a  word,  and 
as  he  put  on  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  he  remained 
with  his  back  sedulously  turned  upon  the  com- 
pany, and  kept  his  handkerchief  to  his  fore- 
head unnecessarily  long,  under  pretence  of 
absorbing  the  perspiration. 

This  feat  gained  Sir  John  great  applause, 
and  his  second  was  garrulous  in  his  joy.  Suc- 
cess is,  after  all,  the  best  incentive  to  approba- 
tion. It  is  not  enough  to  deserve  success ;  we 
must  obtain  it — or  be  despised. 

After  th^  conversations  had  a  little  subsided. 
Captain  Brew  intimated,  through  JacVs  second, 
by  his  own,  that  he  would  be  willing  to  be  satist- 
fied  by  a  verbal  apology,  or  even  with  an  ad- 
mission  that  he  did  not  wish  to  offend  him  on  the 
previous  night.  But  Jack,  against  all  the  laws 
of  the  duello^  and  forgetting  the  character  of  re- 
finement of  which  he  wished  to  acquire  the 
reputation,  bawled  out,  **  he  would  see  him 
damned  first,"  bnd  shouted  to  him  to  *'  come 
on. 


JACK    ASHORK.  77 

Captain  Brew  began  to  think  his  situation 
not  quite  so  desirable,  and  to  have  some 
doubts  as  to  the  issue  of  the  contest  However, 
he  felt  assured  that  he  could  either  kill  or 
wound'  Jack,  on  account  of  his  opponent's  want 
of  science ;  but  that  very  want  had  now  become 
terrible  to  him.  He  feared  that,  without  wait- 
ing  to  parry,  he  would  thrust  simultaneously 
with  himself;  and  thus,  without  securing  his 
own  life,  endanger  his.  He  laboured  altogether 
under  a  misconception,  for  Sir  John  as  much 
surpassed  him  in  science  as  he  did  in  physical 
strength.  The  seaman's  science  was  the  prac- 
tical and  deadly  one.  As  we  have  before 
stated,  he  knew  every  branch  of  self-defence,  in 
every  arm.  He  had  practised  it  with  all  na- 
tions, and  for  hours  together— with  the  wily 
Italian,  and  the  active  and  skilful  Frenchman  ; 
he  had  put  in  act  every  thrust  and  feiDt,  ^th 
small  sharpened  pegs  of  wood,  after  a  fashion 
well  known  abroad. 


78  JACK    ASHOEK. 

In  two  aecoDds  it  was  seen  on  which  side  lay 
the  advantage  Captain  Brew  lost  his  presence 
of  mind,  and  b^an  to  retreat.  The  interest 
and  anxiety  <xf  the  spectators  grew  intense,  and 
they  evidently  thou^t  that  the  Bobadil  would 
fairly  turn  and  run  for  it  At  l«igth,  as  Sir 
John  was  pushing  him  hard,  he  treacherously 
stumbled  in  this  manner — he  fell  on  the  left  knee 
and  the  outstretched  palm  of  the  left  hand,  and 
bowing  in  his  head  into  the  attitude  of  a  ram 
going  to  butt,  he  made  a  vigorous  thrust.  In  this 
way  he  expected  to  be  totally  under  all  Jack's 
guards,  and^  thus  placed  beneath  him,  to  inflict  a 
mortal  wound.  But  our  hero  was  alive  to  every 
double ;  for,  suddenly  drawing  himself  back,  he 
seized  his  assailant's  sword  arm,  and  in  an 
instant  the  weapon  was  wrested  from  his  hand, 
broken  over  his  head,  and  a  sound  kicking 
administered  to  him  into  the  bargain. 

We  need  not  tell  the  reader,  that,  in  duels  be- 
tween gentlemen,  Captain  Brew's  attempt  was 


JACK    ASHOKE.  79 

unfair  and  dishonourable.  His  second  protested 
against  him,  and  thanked  Sir  John  for  having  re- 
lieved him  from  the  trouble  of  kicking  his  princi- 
pal. That  principal  sneaked  off  the  ground,  and 
was  never  more  heard  of  in  society  that  had 
any  claims  to  be  called  either  respectable  or 
honest. 

Jack  was  now  become  a  hero  indeed.  Every 
one  pressed  around  him— -every  one  was  eager 
for  his  notice ;  and  arm-in-arm  with  his  first 
antagonist,  and  accompanied  by  most  of  the 
gentlemen  who  had  been  present,  he  left  the 
field  in  triumph. 

Now,  Sir  John  might  have  fought  his  battles 
more  humorously,  or  at  least  more  ludicrously 
— he  might  have  convulsed  the  field  with 
laughter  by  his  antics ;  but,  unfortunately  for 
the  lovers  of  fun,  he  was  a  natural  character, 
and  possessed  a  tolerably  good  portion  of  com- 
mon sense.  Those,  therefore,  who.  came  to 
mock,  remained  to  admire  him. 

From  this  morning  may  Jack's  fling  of  ex- 


80  JACK  ASHORB« 

travagance  be  dated.  He  went  and  breakfasted 
with  several  of  the  first  men  upon  the  town. 
He  was  liked  exceedingly,  and  humoured  to 
the  top  of  his  heart.  Among  the  most  conspi- 
cuously fashionable  set  he  became  decidedly 
the  fashion.  His  duels  and  his  other  exploits 
were  commented  on  in  the  papers.  Less 
strongly-minded  fools  than  himself  imitated  his 
sea  swagger — indeed,  caricatured  it  —  inter- 
larded their  inane  talk  with  sea  phrases,  and 
seemed  particularly  anxious  to  learn  all  that 
our  hero  had  been  so  studious  to  forget. 
Very  pleasantly  indeed  did  Jack  whistle  him- 
self, fiddle  himself,  and  yacht  himself,  into 
society.  He  became  a  gay  young  fellow — called 
himself  a  blood— and  ruflSanized  a  little.  In 
spite  of  his  careful  lawyer,  he  lived  up  to  his 
income — he  had  plunged  into  the  whirl  of  dis- 
sipation, and  knew  not  himself  whither  it  was 
leading  him. 

The  few  following  months  of  follies   must 
remain    unrecorded,   until    we    publish   them 


JACK  ASHORB.  81 

separately,  as  a  fashionable  novel  in  three 
volumes,  under  the  title  of  the  *^  Freaks  of 
Jack  Ashore.**  We  must  now  on  with  our 
story. 


£  6 


82  JACK  ASHOKR. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Jack  marrieB  in  haste,  to  liSTe  the  more  leisare  for  repentance 
— Leisure,  howeTer,  he  cannot  find,  yet  repenteth  notwith- 
standing^-Sir  Edward  also  marries,  and  grumbles  exceed* 
logly — Family  jars — full  of  troubles — and  frothy  with  com- 
plaints. 

Upon  what  we  must  term  a  false  principle  of 
delicacy,  Sir  Edward  had  now  totally  estranged 
himself  from  all  intercourse  with  our  unstable 
hero.  He  made  ambition  his  deity ;  and  though 
he  had  not  forswotn  love,  that  neglected 
power  was  consigned  to  all  the  solitariness  of 
its  own  shrine  in  the  abode  of  Anne.  He 
wrote  to,  but  never  visited  her.     The  purport 


JACK    ASHOR^.  83 

of  all  his  letters  was  that  of  love.  But  did 
he  in  reality  feel  the  love  he  wrote  about? 
If  tried  by  the  pure  unaltering  flame  in 
the  bosom  whose  heart  had  been  plighted  to 
him,  we  say  decidedly — ^no ;  but  if  we  judge 
after  man's  selfish  nature,  and  his  own  capabi- 
lities, undoubtedly  yes. 

To  Anne,  what  was  time  or  place,  or 
the  mere  accidents  of  life,  to  !the  truthful- 
ness of  her  devotion?  She  sought  not  sa- 
crifices, but  she  would  have  welcomed  them 
gladly  to  have  proved  the  singleness  and 
sincerity  of  her  faith.  He  had  offered  her  a 
release  from  her  engagements  with  him,  and 
plumed  himself  upon  magnanimity.  Magna- 
nimity! Her  answer  was  humble;  she  told 
him  that  she  bound  him  to  nothing,  but,  for 
her  part,  she  would  never  relinquish  hope — -that 
she  sought  only  his  happiness,  and  bade  him 
procure  it  how  best  he  could — that,  for  her- 
self, she  had  formed  but  one  idea  of  felicity  in 
this  world,  and  that  idea  she  never  would  re- 


84  JACK    A8HOBK. 

linquish — but  that  if  this  felicity  were  denied 
to  her,  the  next  best  thing  to  it  no  one  should 
deprive  her  of— fidelity  to  her  vows.  All  ihis 
was  expressed  to  Sir  Edward  in  the  quiet 
language  of  determination.  He  was,  at  the 
same  time,  flattered  and  annoyed  by  it. 

In  the  mean  time,  he  sought  all  means  to 
control  fortune.  He  became  a  miser  in  his 
expenditure,  a  courtier  in  his  manners,  a  waiter 
upon  Providence,  and  something  more  sub- 
missive than  a  waiter  on  that  dispenser  of  the 
good  things  of  Providence,  the  prime  minister. 
For  this  he  was  amply  rewarded,  in  the  par^ 
ticipation  of  several  nice  little  jobs  of  those 
days  of  jobbery.  Indeed  it  was  affirmed  that 
he  was  in  partnership  with  that  particular 
contractor  who  furnished  the  most  complained 
of  article  to  the  army  and  navy,  when  most 
contract  articles  were  advantageous  only  to  the 
contractors. 

Mr.  Scrivener^s  star  now  shone  triumphant 
Sir  John  had  acquired  a  taste  for  flattery,  and 


JACK   ASHORE.  85 

had  taken  with  it  a  zest,  for  which  we  are 
heartily  ashamed  of  him,  for  some  mean  vices* 
We  are  so  angry  with  him,  that  we  shall  not 
be,  for  some  time,  on  such  intimate  terms  with 
him,  as  to  call  him  Jack.  It  will  be  now  a 
long  time  before  we  hail  him  with  that  friendly 
and  honest  name.     He  is  Sir  John  Truepenny. 

Now  Mr.  Scrivener  was  an  able  and  a  prac- 
tised sycophant ;  and  Sir  John,  knowing  him  to 
be  a  rogue,  liked  him,  or  those  qualities  about 
him  that  flattered  his  vanity. 

In  this  state  of  affairs,  our  baronet  fell 
in  love  with  Miss  Scrivener.  He  stood  in  no  awe 
of  her  superior  sense,  or  of  a  better  cultivated 
mind.  Then  she  was  so  simple,  and  such  a 
loving  fool— and  gentle  and  lady-like  withal — 
and  a  model  so  perfect  of  mere  animal  and 
voluptuous  beauty.  Sir  John  looked  upon 
many  fair  and  noble  creatures;  he  admired 
some  among  them,  but  he  also  feared  them. 
So  he  satisfied  his  choice  by  appealing  from 
their  mental   to  Eugenia  Scri  veneres  physical 


86  JACK  ASHORE. 

superiority.  In  no  high-born  dame  could  he 
find  the  complexion  so  clear,  the  form  so  sym- 
metrical and  rounded,  the  blue  eyes  softer  and 
larger,  the  colour  of  the  cheeks  more  pure  and 
more  glowing.  And  whose  smile  was  more 
exhilarating  than  his  love's  ?  It  was  most  be- 
witching from  its  artlessness.  It  wrote  upon 
Sir  John's  heart,  in  letters  of  light,  ^^  I  joy/' 
^^  I  will  love  her  as  a  woman,  and  rule  her  as 

a  child,"  said  the  foolish  man. 

« 

So  he  married  her.  The  courtship  occupy- 
ing only  one  month,  there  was  no  time  to 
acquaint  Mrs.  Snowdrop. 

Now,  ^e  only  good  spirit  that  had  not  de- 
serted Sir  John^  was  Mr.  Singleheart,  the 
honest  lawyer.  This  straightforward  person 
had  done  all  that  was  possible  to  put  his 
client  in  the  right  path.  He  had  most  strenu- 
ously opposed  this  marriage,  and  with  an 
opposition  that  the  once  humble  sailor  now 
proudly  denounced  as  impertinent  Mr.  Sin- 
gleheart became  offended,  and    tendered    his 


JACK    ASHOBK.  87 

resignation.  This  proceeding  recalled  Sir  John 
to  some  sense  of  prudence ;  be  apologised,  and 
swore  a  round  oath  that  nothing  should  ever 
induce  him  to  part  with  him  as  his  legal  ad- 
viser, and  the  custodier  of  all  his  affairs ;  and 
he  concluded  by  promising  that,  in  all  other 
important  matterss  those  belonging  to  the 
marriage  excepted,  he  would  be  implicitly  di- 
rected by  his  counsels.  Mr.  Singkheart 
shrugged  up  his  shoulders  and  withdrew. 

Long,  and  strenuous,  and  very  bitter  were 
the  daily  battles  that  the  two  lawyers  fought 
over  the  settlements.  Eugenia-Elfrida  was  re- 
tained on  her  father's  side^  and  duly  instructed 
to  wheedle  Sir  John  into  her  parentis  views, 
which  were  really  for  her  exclusive  advantage. 
But,  on  this  point,  all  her  infantine  dalliance 
was  of  no  avail.  If  her  lover  happened  to  be 
in  a  good  humour,  he  stopped  her  pleadings 
with  kisses,  and  called  her  a  little  fool — if  only 
in  a  tolerable  one,  he  whistled  and  walked 
away— but  if  in  a  bad  one^  he  took  the  liberty 


88  JACK    ASHORE. 

of  damning  all  manner  of  law  in  its  detail  and 
totality,  and  all  who  practised  it,  all  parental 
respect  notwithstanding.  This  jargon  about 
the  settlements  was  dreadfully  distasteful  to 
him. 

At  length  Mr.  Scrivener  gave  up  the  strug- 
gle, and  was  content  to  be  an  honest  man, 
because  he  could  not  help  it  Such  settle* 
ments  and  provisions  were  made  as  were 
suitable  to  the  very  handsome  fortune  that 
Miss  Scrivener  brought  to  her  husband.  The 
wily  lawyer  had  not  given  up  his  point,  but 
had  only  resolved  to  suspend  his  operations 
until  after  the  marriage^  and  then  he  doubted 
not  but  that  all  that  belonged  to  his  son-in- 
law  should  be  as  completely  under  his  con- 
trol as  if  it  were,  and  always  had  been,  his 
own  property.  The  marriage  was  duly  so- 
lemnized, with  all  the  splendour  befitting  the 
rank  and  fortune  of  the  parties. 

This  act  gave  the  deathblow  to  the  hopes  of 
the  Truepenny  family,  of  marrying  its  represen- 


JACK    ASHORE.  89 

tative  with  the  elder  branch  of  the  Fortintowers. 
Old  Mr*  Truepenny  and  his  brother-trustee 
now  no  longer  opposed  an  application  to  the  Lord 
Chancellor — though  it  was  a  sore  affliction  to 
the  family  attorney.  Sir  Edward  Fortintower 
returned  to  his  allegiance,  and  shortly  after 
married  Miss  Truepenny,  trusting  to  the  ul- 
terior effects  of  the  application  to  chancery  for 
wealth  suitable  to  his  ambition,  and,  as  he  said, 
to  ensure  the  happiness  of  his  amiable  wife ; 
though  it  was  strongly  suspected  that  he 
wished  for  something  of  a  much  less  romantic 
nature. 

Sir  Edward  went  about  receiving  congratu- 
lations, and  looked  very  humbly  proud  on  all 
the  compliments  paid  him  for  his  disinterested- 
ness in  marrying  under  his  peculiar  circum- 
stances. He  affected  to  think  that  the  solemn 
Truepenny  will  could  not  be  set  aside;  and, 
though  he  had  joined  in  the  petition  against  it, 
that  it  ought  not — that  it  would  be  a  pre- 
cedent to  endanger  all   property.      All    this 


90  JACK   ASHOBE. 

made  the  sense  of  gratitude  on  the  part  of  his 
wife  towards  him  almost  insupportable  to  her; 
and  her  cares  were  increased  bj  Sir  Edward 
looking  at  times  anxious  and  unhappy,  which 
looks  he  was  pleased  to  impute  to  his  fears  for 
his  pecuniary  future* 

It  must  be  fully  understood,  that  Anne  did 
not  go  pennyless  to  her  husband.  There  was 
in  the  Truepenny  family  a  large  private  pro- 
perty unaffected  by  the  wilL  Miss  Truepenny 
had  fifteen  thousand  pounds  of  her  own ;  yet 
this  and  Sir  Edward^s  income  were  certainly 
unequal  to  the  support  of  the  dignity  of  a 
married  baronet,  with  a  suitable  establishment 
However,  they  took  a  very  splendid  mansion  in 
Portland  Place,  and  there  appeared  to  be  no 
want  of  money  on  the  part  of  Sir  Edward* 
Still  he  grumbled  on. 

**  My  dear  Edward,'*  said  Lady  Fortintower 
one  morning  to  her  husband,   ^^  may   I  say 

ff 

something  to  you,  and  hope  it  may  be  received 


JACK    ASHOBS.  91 

in  the  same  affectionate  spirit  that  would  dic- 
tate it  ?" 

^^  Assuredly,  my  dear  love,"  said  Sir  Ed- 
ward, placing  the  paper  which  he  was  reading 
upon  the  tables  and  looking  devoutly  attentive, 
yet  every  now  and  then  stealing  a  glance  at 
the  paragraph  that  had  just  before  so  com- 
pletely absorbed  his  attention. 

^^  I  wish  to  express  my  grief  at  the  insuffi- 
ciency of  our  means—"  and  here  the  unbidden 
tears  started  into  her  eyes — ^^and  of  myself y  to 
ensure  your  happiness." 

^^  Happiness,  my  love  !  I  am  peculiarly  happy 
' — ^possessing you,  how  could  I  be  otherwise?^—- 
Then  smiling  lovingly,  he  pressed  her  hand, 
and,  without  relinquishing  it»  read  a  few  more 
lines  of  his  paper,  and  squeezing  her  hand 
more  ardently  than  before,  cried  out,  ^*The 
clamorous  scoundrel !" 

<^What  is  the  matter,  Edward?'  said  his 
lady,  not  making  herself  the  debtor  for  the 
last  energetic  squeeze. 


92  JACK    ASHORE. 

*'  Here  is  the  democratical  rascal,  Wrongside, 
railing  against  the  quality  of  the  flour  and 
biscuit  lately  supplied  to  the  forces,  upon  the 
presentation  of  a  most  libellous  and  rebellious 
petition.^" 

'*  But,  dear  Edward,  are  the  flour  and  bread 
really  bad?" 

*^  That  has  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  the 
question,  my  gentle  love.  The  flour  and  the 
biscuits  are  only  eaten  by  the  common  men, 
and  those  who  embark  in  our  glorious  naval 
and  military  services  should  be  reconciled  to 
some  privations  for  the  good  of  their  country. 
Besides,  it  is  well  to  inure  them  to  hardships. 
But  the  grievous  thing  is,  making  this  com- 
plaint a  peg  on  which  to  hang  sedition  against 
the  state,  and  a  scandal  against  myself." 

^^Good  gracious,  Edward,  how  are  you 
affected  by  it  ?" 

**  Why,  I  procured  this  very  contract  for 
Alderman  Grabandall,  and  this  democratical 
Wrongside  more  than  insinuates  that  our  food, 
my  dear  love — yours  and  mine,  Anne — is  all  the 


JACK    ASHORB.  93 

better  and  the  more  plentifuU  in  proportion  to 
that  of  the  brave  defenders  of  our  country 
being  scanty  and  bad.** 

*<It  is  dreadful,  Edward;  very  dreadful 
indeed*  I  don^t  think  I  shall  again  be  able  to 
be  civil  to  that  alderman.  Why  is  he  so  fre- 
quently here  ?^ 

**  Business,  my  love.  I  wish  you  to  show  that 
man  marked  attention.  Not  happy,  my  love  ? 
how  can  you  think  me  unhappy,  and  you  near 
me  ?  But  I  must  pick  out  the  news — I  have 
not  lately  attended  my  place  in  parliament. 
Not  happy  ?  if  there  is  a  shade  on  my  bro  wat 
times,  it  is  merely  that  I  do  not  see  you,  my 
love,  surrounded  by  that  splendour  of  which 
you  are  so  worthy,  which  would  so  much  be- 
come you,  and  which  wealth  only  could  pur- 
chase." 

Sir  Edward  read  on,  till  he  met  something 
that  caused  him  to  start  upon  his  legs  and 
exclaim,  ^^  Anne,  could  you  ever  conceive  such 


94  JACK    A8HOEE. 

intolerable  impertinence?  Our  worthy,  inno- 
cent} disingenuous,  simple-hearted  sailor — our 
much  beloved  cousin  ^has  filed  a  petition  before 
the  Lord  Chancellor,  to  be  heard  by  counsel 
on  his  behalf,  concerning  the  Truepenny  wilL 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  baser  ingratitude? 
This  very  moment  that  man,  Anne^  of  whom 
you  are  disposed  to  think  so  favourably,  had 
it  not  been  for  me,  might  have  been  suing  as 
a  pauper,  surrounded  by  all  a  pauper's  wants 
and  misery  ?" 

**  Would  that  have  been  right,  my  love^  and 
you  could  have  prevented  it?*' 

*^  It  is  the  only  fault  that  I  could  ever  find, 
my  dear  Anne,  in  your  beautifully  constituted 
mind,  that  of  referring  the  complicated  interests 
and  actions  of  life  to  abstract  truths  and  rights. 
It  wonH  work  well.  Society  is  a  mass  of  sa- 
crifices— I  might  have  said,  and  still  have  been 
virtuous  enough  for  society,  if  this  John  True- 
penny had  a  right  to  my  estates,  he  had  only 


JACK    ASHOBE.  95 

the  right  through  the  laws,  and  no  absolute 
right  to  possession  until  the  law  had  given  it  to 
hinj.^ 

^^  But  then,  my  own  Edward,  you  would  not 
have  been  virtuous  enough  for  me ;  but  that 
you  were  so,  is  proved  by  the  very  noble  man- 
ner in  which  you  acted  all  through  that  busi- 
ness. Do  not  impair  the  merit  of  that  action  by 
repenting  of  it." 

^^  I  do  not ;  I  alluded  to  the  act,  only  in  elu- 
cidation of  Sir  John's  ingratitude ;  for  though 
he  can  have  no  shadow  of  a  right  to  any  inter- 
ference, and  will  be  ultimately  scouted  out  of 
court,  yet  will  it  cause  a  delay  that  is  just  now 
very  annoying  to  me.    Anne,  we  want  money." 

^^  I  am  deeply  sorry  to  hear  you  say  this. 
Why,  my  love,  take  a  mansion  so  expensive  ? 
and  the  furniture  also  seems  very  costly.^ 

**  It  was  all  for  your  sake,  loveliest ;  and  I 
must  keep  up  my  connexion." 

**  And  yet  we  hardly  see  any  one,  excepting 
city   people,    contractors,    stock-brokers,    and 


96  JACK    A8H0KE. 

merchants — very  worthy  people,  I  am  sure. 
Yet  this  household  display  was  hardly  neces- 
sary  for  them  ?" 

**  Ah  !  my  little  wife,  are  you  so  shrewd  ? 
They  are  the  best  acquaintance,  my  dear,  for 
a  poor  baronet.  But  do  not  embrace  the  idea, 
either  that  I  am  miserable,  or  that  our  outlav 
is  beyond  our  means.  I  only  wish  that  we  were 
richer,  and  that  Sir  John  had  not  proved  so 
ungrateful." 

^*  I  believe,  when  you  inquire  into  it,  that 
you  will  find  he  knows  nothing  of  the  matter. 
Yet  I  have  been  much  deceived  in  him.  His 
late  course  of  life  is  utterly  at  variance  with 
the  heart  and  the  sense  that  I  once  gave  him 
'the  credit  of  possessing. — Farewell,  my  love." 

"What  ? — shall  you  be  so  long  absent?  Re- 
member that  I  am  only  happy  whilst  I  believe 
you  to  be  so.  Ah  !  you  have  sadly  spoiled  roe, 
Edward ;  never  before  was  I  covetous  of 
riches.'* 

Sir  Edward  went  upon  his  multifarious  busi«^ 


JACK    ASHORE.  97 

ness.  He  saw  at  least  twenty  persons  before 
he  returned  home  to  dress  for  dinner  ;  and  the 
last  call  he  made  was  upon  our  very  undignified 
hero,  from  whom  he  went  to  his  club. 


VOL.    IIL  F 


98  JACK  ASHOKK. 


CHAPTER   V 


A  conversation  between  two  ladies,  in  which  matrimony  is 
discussed,  and  the  imperatiTe  duty  of  dames  to  show  a 
proper  spirit  insisted  upon. 

But  Lady  Fortintower  had  also  her  occupa- 
tions. Lady  Truepenny  had  been,  for  a  very 
long  time,  as  a  stranger  to  her,  and  there  had 
been  no  encouragement  held  out  by  either  her 
or  Sir  Edward  for  an  intimacy  between  the 
families.  Cards  of  ceremony  had  been  scru- 
pulously interchanged,  and  in  that  consisted 
all  the  notice  they  had  taken  of  each  other. 
Lady  Fortintower  was,  therefore,  surprised 
when  she  heard  the  name  of  Lady  Truepenny 


JACK   ASHORE.  99 

announced)  and  receiving,  at  the  same  time,  an 
earnest  note,  requesting  that  Lady  Fortintower 
would  be  at  home  to  her. 

There  was  no  awkwardness  in  the  meeting, 
for  Lady  Truepenny  was  too  simple  to  feel, 
and  Lady  Fortintower  too  highly  bred  to  show 
any.  The  former  was  flurried  and  agitated, 
and  had  evidently  something  of  importance  to 
communicate. 

*^  Permit  me  to  congratulate  you  personally. 

I  trust  that  you  are  as  happy ** 

**  Not  as  the  day's  long,  as  you  were  going 
to  say,  my  lady ;  and  it's  a  wonder  too,  for, 
really,  Jack's  a  good  fellow." 

"  Meaning  Sir  John  Truepenny  ?' 
<<  Of  course;  I  call  him  Jack,  and  he  calls 
me  Gin,  though  your  ladyship  very  well  knows 
that  Eugenia-Elfrida  are  really  the  names  I  was 
christened  by.  Gin  is  an  odious  abbreviation — 
but  Jack  will  have  it — he  says  he  will  have 
his  Gin — and,  really,  sometimes  I  think  he  gets 
too  much  of  it.^ 

p  2 


100  JACK    ASHORE. 

"  Of  neither,  I  trust.  Lady  Truepenny — 
meaning  you,  or  the  vulgar  liquor?'' 

^*  Both  !  O  dear  me  !  both.  When  he  was 
a  bachelor,  he  would  not  touch  spirits;  but  now 
nothing  comes  amiss  to  him.  He  beat  Sir 
Bilberry  Blink,  the  night  before  last,  drinking 
raw  brandy  for  a  wager.  He  came  home 
swearing  drunk,  and  was  going  to  beat  me  too.^* 

"  How  very  horrid  P 

^'  Oh,  thaf  s  not  the  worst  of  it ;  he  positively 
burned,  with  his  own  hands,  my  new  Brussels 
lace  robe,  because  it  was  cut  too  low  in  the 
bust.  Now  I  call  that  really  horrid — the  swear- 
ing sea-brute !" 

**  That  was  very  terrible^  indeed ;  I  am  ex- 
tremely sorry  to  hear  that  Sir  John  gives  way 
to  such  violences.  I  always  imagined  that  he 
was  a  very  good-tempered  man.^ 

**  Good-tempered  !  dear,  dear  Lady  Fortin- 
tower,  it  was  only  this  very  rooming  that  he 
kicked  my  respected  father  all  down  stairs,  and 
flung  his  hat  out  at  him,  as  he  bundled  him 


JACK    ASHOKE.  101 

down  the  stone  steps  into  the  street  !•— hi — hi — 
hi ! — I  can't  help  laughing,  it  was  so  droll — isn't 
it  very  shocking? — ^hi— hi — hi  I  I  do  assure 
you  I  was  never  S0  much  hurt  in  my  life — I 
did  scream  so»  and  yet  it  was  funny  beyond 
anything.     I  wish  you  had  seen  it/' 

**  Really,  I  am  very  glad  I  did  not ;  but 
Mr.  Scrivener  must  have  given  Sir  John  some 
cause  for  this  intemperate  conduct  ?^ 

^  Not  the  least  in  the  world,  I  do  positively 

assure  you — only  I  believe  it  is  all  along  of 

your  good  lord  and  master." 

^^  My  good  lord  and  master !  Surely  you 
cannot  mean  Sir  Edward  ?" 

*^  Nobody  else,  madam.  He  called  this  morn- 
ing for  the  first  time,  and  was  very  civil  to  me  ; 
but  he  came  on  business,  and  scolded  my  good 
lord  and  master  for  going  to  law  with  him  ;  and 
then  my  good  man — humph — we  call  husbands 
by  strange  names  ! — my  good  man  got  into  a 
bad  passion,  but  not  with  your  good  man — but 
with  my  dear,  careful,  prudent  papa.     So  papa 


102  JACK    ASHORE. 

being  in  the  way,  my  good  man  kicked  bim 
out;  and,  what  is  to  be  done,  the  Lord  in 
heaven  only  knows-^that  is  to  say,  if  he  ever 
would  trouble  himself  about  it.'' 

<<  Do  you  know,  dear  Lady  Truepenny,  that 
I  do  not  like  your  taking  that  name  that  you 
last  mentioned  in  vain.  What  can  I  possibly 
do  to  serve  you  in  this  affair  ?^ 

<«  Nobody  can  serve  me,  that  I  can  see ;  I 
am  a  very  ill-used  woman — all  because  Fve 
been  a  dutiful  daughter." 

"  How  is  that  possible  ?*" 

*^  Why,  Jack  and  I  would  have  rubbed  on 
very  well  together,  if  papa  would  have  left  us 
alone — for,  really,  John  is  a  good  soul,  and  not 
such  a  fool  as  papa  and  all  the  fine  gentlefolks 
wish  to  make  him.  At  first,  I  had  everything 
my  heart  could  wish,  and  dear,  dear  Jack 
seemed  inclined  to  settle  down  and  be  as  com- 
fortable as  all  that  the  world  could  give  could 
make  us.  Indeed,  he  longed  to  go  into  the 
country,  and  see  some  of  his  fine  estates,  and 


JACK    ASHORE.  103 

talked    about    studyiDg,    and    all    that   non- 
sense/' 

^^  Begging  your  pardon,  I  think  he  talked 
very  well." 

**  Perhaps  so,  for  he  must  know  his  own  de- 
ficiencies ;  but  I  think,  with  all  his  fondness, 
he  was  a  little  impertinent  when  he  presumed 
to  talk  of  mine.  I  deficient — ^indeed ! — I  want 
instruction  I  It  is  all  very  well  to  say  so  in 
comparison,  madam,  with  you  and  other  quick 
ladies;  but,  in  comparison  with  an  uncouth 
sailor  like  him,  the  thing,  as  my  father  truly 
said,  was  quite  insulting/' 
**  And  did  your  father  say  this?" 
^^  He  did;  and  very  right  he  was,  I  think." 
"  I  am  bitterly— deeply  sorry  for  it.  Might 
I  suggest  to  you,  my  dear  madam,  that  it 
would  not  only  be  more  dutiful,  but  really 
more  pleasant  to  you,  to  listen  more  to  youi 
husband,  and  less  to  your  father." 

**  I  thought  so  once ;  but  it  is  too  late  now. 
I  have  discovered  that,  with  all  his  bluntness 


104  JACK    ASHORE. 

and  his  make-believe  frankness,  Sir  John  True- 
penny has  a  bad  heart  T 

**  You  surprise  me  by  saying  so.  I  should 
have  thought  directly  the  reverse.  Have  you 
any  strong  reason  for  coming  to  this  painful 
conclusion  ?      It    ought    to  be  a  very   strong 


one.** 


**  O !  the  very  strongest,  bless  you.  He  has 
no  regard  for  my  interest-*npne  for  my  father. 
I  have  made  it  a  particular  request  to  him — ^ac- 
tually gone  down  on  my  knees  to  him — to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  that  hateful  Mr.  Single- 
heart,  who  was  so  stingy  about  the  settlements, 
and  to  make  my  father  his  only  agent ;  and — 
would  you  believe  it  ? — he  is  deaf  to  me,  and  was 
so  indulgent  in  everything  else ;  but  to  refuse 
me  so  obstinately  in  what  I  have  most  set  my 
heart  on,  is  quite  enough  to  break  it  Do  you  call 
that  love?— and  such  grand  reasons  as  my 
father  gave  !*' 

"  Well,  what  followed  T 

^*  I  was  determined  to  tire  him  out.     It  was 


JACK    ASHOBfi.  105 

such  a  trifle  I  and  such  an  insult,  too,  to  my 
poor  father,  not  to  be  preferred  by  his  son-in- 
law  to  a  miserable  pettifogger  who  does  not 
keep  his  carriage  as  pa  does,  and  has  done  ever 
since  I  can  remember.  Mr.  Singleheart  does 
not  even  keep  a  horse  or  a  man-servant.  Such 
conduct  of  Sir  John^s  was  a  reflection  upon  the 
family  dignity.** 

**  Pray  go  on.** 

"  I  am  not  fond  of  showing  spirit — it  is 
so.  troublesome ;  but  I  have  got  some,  how- 
ever, and  a  very  proper  spirit,  I  do  assure 
you  it  is.  So,  as  I  made  so  little  progress,  pa 
thought  I  ought  to  show  more  spirit,  and  I 
did." 

*'  I  have  no  doubt  of  it ;  now  tell  me  the  re- 
sult" 

**  But  who  can  show  a  proper  spirit  without 
lodng  temper — I  can't— can  you?  So  1  got 
jn  a  passion,  and  gave  it  Jack  properly — I 
called  him  some  hard  names— I  do  assure  you  I 

F  5 


106  JACK  ASHORE. 

did.  You  may  think  I  am  very  tame,  but  I  did 
indeed  !*• 

'^  But  how  did  Sir  John  behave  7* 
**  In  the  worst  manner  possible  I  Instead  of 
seeing  the  thing  in  the  proper  light,  and  con- 
sulting the  hopour  of  the  famUy,  he  d-^ — d 
me  and  papa  both,  and  told  me  if  I  wished  to 
fight  the  battle  out  in  Billingsgate  Reach,  he 
had  a  broadside  of  double-shotted  guns  quite 
at  my  service.  What  ^  could  the  wretch 
mean  ?" 

"  Pray — ^pray  do  not  call  him  wretch  I* 
**  I  called  him  worse  than  that ;  so,  ever  since, 
he  has,  tiumed  our  beautiful  mansion  into  a 
tippling  shop.  Such  company  ! — such  scenes  I — 
and  then  he  will  come  home  drunk,  with  bruised 
body,  scratched  face,  and  blackened  eyes — ^be 
away  in  his  sailing-boat  for  days,  and  tell  me, 
jeeringly,  that  I  ought  to  be  a  very  happy 
woman,  as  1  had  bis  entire  permission  to  go 
to  the  devil  my  own  way,  and  not  to  cross  his.^ 
"  This  is  a  very  melancholy  description  in- 


JACK   ASHORE.  107 

deed.  I  could  not  give  you  advice  vdthout  be 
oomiDg  so  offensive  as^  most  likely,  to  cause  you 
to  persevere  in  your  present  course  out  of  mere 
resentment.  It  is  clear  to  me  that  you  ought 
immediately  to  make  your  election  between 
your  father  and  your  husband,  and  I  trust 
that  God  will  enlighten  your  heart  to  judge 
rightly.'* 

^  O  !  all  that's  past  and  done  with.  Be- 
sides, there's  Colonel  Chacehell,  and  several 
very  gentlemenly  men — and  a  lord  among  them 
— assures  me  that  Sir  John  disregards  his  mar- 
riage vow,  and  makes  game  of  me  among 
naughty  women.  I  once  got  hold  of  a  letter 
addressed  to  him  from  a  lady, — *  Fve  caught 
you  now.  Master  Jack,*  said  I ;  so  I  broke  the 
seal  and  read  it;  but  I  got  nothing  for  my 
trouble.  It  was  nothing  but  a  canting  sermon 
addressed  to  him  on  the  shockingness  of  his 
life,  and  signed  Susan  Snowdrop — some  ficti- 
tious name,  no  doubt ;  for  surely  it  canH  be 
the  bumboat,woman^s  daughter." 


lOd  JACK    ASHORE* 

^*  I  don't  think  the  name  was  fictitious.     Do 
you  remember  any  of  its  contents  ?^ 

*^  O  !  they  were  pure  good  in  the  preaching 
line — talked  of  his  immortal  welfare,  and  all 
that  sort  of  stuff,  and  spoke  of  my  happiness 
being  in  his  hands,  and  that  Jack  was  respon- 
sible for  it  here  and  hereafter.  It  almost  made 
me  cry — that's  flat;  and  I  would  have  given  it 
to  Jack  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  for  it 
might  have  done  him  good,  but  you  know  I 
couldn't,  as  I  had  broken  the  seal—- so  I  burnt 
it." 

**  All  this  is  very  melancholy  indeed ! " 
said  Lady  Fortintower,  with  a  look  of  sor- 
row approaching  to  anguish.  *^  What  can 
I  possibly  do  for  you  and  for  your  hus- 
band ?" 

^^  O !  a  great  deal  you  can  do,  and  do  do 
it — there's  a  pretty  Lady  Fortintower.  You 
and  Sir  Edward  have  great  influence  over  my 
stiff-necked  bargain.      Only  persuade  him  to 


JACK   ASHOBB.  109 

do  what  father  likesi  and  alter  my  settle- 
ments— that's  all;  and  I'll  love  you  both  as 
long — as  long — as  I  live — and  I  can't  say  any 
more." 


110  JACK   ASHORK. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  parable  of  the  fat  oz  and  the  blackbirds— Jack  goes  on 
badlj— Takes  op  with  low  vices  and  low  oompanions,  and 
consequently  is  often  taken  op  himself— Goes  into  the  coun- 
try, and  talks  about  election  matters — Shows  his  ignorance 
by  showing  his  patriotism— Forms  his  own  resolution. 

The  last  chapter  furnished  a  tolerably  accu- 
rate picture  of  Sir  John's  domestic  life,  whicii 
life  not  exactly  suiting  him,  he,  with  a  rude 
sort  of  art,  had  contrived  to  make  himself 
as  little  domestic  as  he  could.  He  had  hoped  to 
kick  many  of  his  troubles  out  of  his  house  with 
his  father-in-law.  He  deceived  himself,  for  his 
daughter  remained.  Our  hero  did  not  much 
speculate,  for  he  did  not  much  care,  in  what 
manner  Mr.  Scrivener  would  behave  under  the 


JACK    ASHOaK.  Ill 

public  insult  to  which  be  had  subjected  him* 
Mr.  Scrivener  himself  appeared  to  take  no 
notice  of  it  whatever.  He  abstained  from  the 
house  of  his  son-in-law,  but  in  no  other  way 
showed  his  sense  of  resentment. 

Some  time  after  this,  in  the  midst  of  his  re- 
pinings,  Sir  Edward  was  removed  into  the 
Upper  House,  by  the  title  of  Baron  Fortin- 
tower ;  and  thus  one  of  the  essentials  of  the 
famous  Truepenny  will  was  accomplished.  But 
the  essential  to  which  the  new  Lord  Fortin- 
tower  attached  the  most  consequence  was  still 
wanting  to  him  —  the  Truepenny  estates  — 
through  the  very  provisions  of  the  will  itself. 

Now  my  lord  had  vainly  flattered  himself 
that  in  one  or  two  hearings  the  prayer  of  the 
petition  to  the  chancellor,  merely  as  a  matter  of 
course,  would  be  granted,  as  his  interview  with 
Sir  John  had  removed,  as  he  thought,  every 
opposition.  Accordingly,  he  remained  with  his 
bride  in  England,  although  he  had  been  appoint- 
ed minister  to  a  very  snug  little  German  court, 


112  JACK   ASHORE. 

with  a  salary  more  consonant  with  the  dignity 
of  the  august  nation  which  he  represented,  than 
the  paltry  little  principality  which  was  to  be- 
nefit by  the  representation.  How  infinitely 
was  he  deceived ! 

Now  for  the  lawsuit.  Conceive  to  yourself  a 
noble  fat  ox  struck  suddenly  dead  on  an  open 
plain,  and  call  it  the  Truepenny  cause.  First 
there  comes  a  grave  old  raven,  with  an  immense 
capacity  of  paunch,  and  a  beak  some  little  the 
worse  for  wear.  He  squats  himself  down  upon  the 

very  highest  point  of  the  ox,  a  little  rich  emi- 
nence of  fat ;  he  thrusts  his  bill  into  it,  gives,  with 
his  mandibles,  a  smack  or  two,  then  tosses  them 
up  towards  the  clouds  with  a  glorious  access  of 
satisfaction,  and  commences  with  **  Caws! 
cause  i  cause  V*  in  a  triumphant  outcry.  This 
raven  of  a  goodly  presence  is  my  Lord  Chan- 
cellor. 

At  the  gathering  cry  of  ^*  Caws  I  cause  ! 
cause !"  four  or  five  other  ravens,  all  black 
birds,  eagerly  hop  over  the  carcass,  and  begin 


JACK  ASHORE.  113 

diSgfng  their  bills  into  it  with  wonderful 
activity,  plucking  forth  rare  savory  bits,  while 
they  join  in  the  chorus  of  *^  Caws !  Cause  I ! 
cause !  T'  between  each  mouthful ;  nor  is  the 
call  unanswered.  Another  flock  of  birds, 
equally  black  and  hungry,  join  in  the  rich 
repast ;  but  the  two  sets,  whilst  they  are  cram- 
ming themselves  to  suffocation,  make  strange 
grimaces  at  each  other,  with  strange  noises,  as 
if  they  were  quarrelling — ^but  it  is  no  such 
thing.  These  are  the  counsel  for  and  against 
the  Truepenny  cause. 

But  there  is  another  set  of  birds  of  prey, 
more  abject  and  quite  as  voracious — an  obscene 
gang ;  these  do  not  presume  to  mount  on  the 
body,  but,  echoing  the  common  cry  of  cause ! 
hop  round  and  round  the  carcass,  spying  out, 
and  acquainting  the  black  birds  above,  where 
are  situated  the  nicest  morsels;  and  in  re- 
turn for  this  service,  get  thrown  to  them  most 
of  the  garbage,  and  sometimes  a  savoury  bit  or 
two  as  a  reward — these  are  the  attorneys  in  the 


114  JACK    A8H0&E. 

Truepenny  cause.     Alas !  for  the  fat  ox  and 
the  rightful  owners  thereof  I 

At  the  very  first  hearing  of  the  petition  of 
Lord  Fortintower  in  behalf  of  Anne  his  wife, 
as  sole  heiress,  and  the  two  trustees,  to  set  aside 
the  will,  as  most  of  its  provisions  had  he&i 
accomplished,  and  immediately  after  this  very 
natural  and  just  request  had  been  legaUy 
made,  up  hop  out  of  their  covert  one,  two, 
three,  four,  black  birds  of  prey^  one  after  the 
other,  who  rose  in  order  to  establish  the  right 
of  Mr.  Scrivener  to  be  a  party  to  the  suit,  in 
the  behalf  of  the  probable  issue  of  his  daugh- 
ter ;  which  probable  issue,  being  of  the  elder 
branch  of  the  Fortintower  family,  had  rights, 
either  if  the  will  remained  intact,  or  was  set 
aside ;  moreover,  notwithstanding,  &c. 

It  occupied  the  wordy  warfare  of  a  whole 
term  to  decide  whether  Mr.  Scrivener  should 
be  heard  by  the  court  through  his  counsel  at 
all,  whilst  the  court  was  listening  to  him  on  every 
opportunity ;  and  those  opportunities  were  fre* 


JACK   A8H0RK.  115 

quenty  because  it  was  admitted  on  all  hands 
that  the  cause  was  very  urgent — ^it  was  a  rich 
cause. 

Early  next  term  it  was  decided  that  Mr. 
Scrivener  m^hi  be  heard  on  behalf  of  a  being 
that  had  no  existence.  Then  Mr.  Scrivener^s 
counsel  became  parentally  careful  of  the  in- 
terests of  this  non«existent  being,  and  were 
urgent  in  praying  that  the  present  trustees  of 
the  Truepenny  estate  should  be  relieved  from 
their  invidious  and  troublesome  office  by  the 
Court  of  Chancery,  and  that  a  receiver  should 
be  appointed  under  the  authority  of  the  same 
court ; — ^and  who  so  proper  as  Mr.  Scrivener 
himself,  the  ancestor  of  the  being  not  yet 
bom? 

Here  another  party  stepped  forward,  and 
another  gang  of  ravens  hopped  upon  the 
carcass  of  the  fat  ox.  This  last  flock  clamoured 
for  the  interests  of  Mr.  Winterton,  the 
Truepenny  family  lawyer,  who  had  a  sort  of 
freehold  in  the  will,  and  a  lien  on  the  estates — 


116 


JACK    ASHORE. 


SO  they  all   said — whilst  that  will  had   legal 
existence. 

At  this  crisis  Lord  Fortintower  lost  his 
patience,  and  left  the  country.  He  indem- 
nified himself  by  outshining  in  splendour  the 
sovereign  to  whom  he  was  accredited ;  though 
his  complaints  were  heart-rending  as  he  bewail- 
ed  his  poverty,  and  anathematized  all  man- 
ner of  law  and  lawyers  generally,  and  the  True- 
penny lawsuit  and  Mr.  Scrivener  particularly. 

On  this  occasion  our  not  now  worthy  Sir  John 
fell  into  an  inexcusable  passion ;  he  could  hardly 
be  restrained  from  seeking  his  father-in-law,  that 
kind-hearted  gentleman  who  was  so  provident 
for  his  unborn  children,  and  laying  violent 
hands  on  him.  Sorry  we  are  to  record  it,  that 
he  began  to  detest  his  wife,  and  all  his  feelings 
exhibited  a  downward  bias.  Two  mornings  in 
the  week  he  was  to  be  heard  of  in  the  watch- 
house  ;  and  he  became  not  only  tlie  father  of 
-his  own  freaks,  but  every  disgraceful  outrage' 
that  took  place  in  the  metropolis  was  fathered 


JACK    ASHORE.  117 

upon  him  also.  The  only  redeeming  circum- 
stance in  these  disgraceful  acts  was  his  drol- 
lery, and  the  complete  absence  of  any  inten- 
tional harm.  But  what  was  matter  of  deep 
regret,  his  constitution  began  to  suffer — he 
grew  bloated,  and  both  appetite  and  strength 
began  to  fail  him. 

He  had  now  been  several  months  Jack  (uharen 
and  was  no  more  like  Jack  afloat  than  a  Jack 
in  o£Sce  is  like  Jack  the  Giant  Killer.  Jack 
now  could  kill  no  giants,  but  there  were  three 
giants  very  rapidly  killing  him;  the  giant 
Debauchery,  the  giant  Gluttony,  and  the  giant 
Drunkenness.  With  bis  companions  he  was 
sole  sovereign  and  earthly  god,  but  he  had  no 
friends  among  them — no,  not  one.  The  only 
friends  that  were  accessible  to  him  were  his 
lawyer  and  his  physician. 

'^  Go  into  the   country,''  said   the  lawyer, 
^'  for  you  are  now  living  beyond  your  means, 
and  your  wife  is  ruining  you." 
.    ^*  Go  into  the   country,"  said  the  doctor ; 


118  JACK    ASHORE. 

««  fur  you  are  living  beyond  your  stamina,  and 
your  dissipation  is  killing  you.** 

•*  My  wife  be  d d,"  said  the  baronet  to 

the  legal — *'  curse  my  stamina,**  to  the  medical 
adviser. 

But  events,  those  stern  daughters  of  neces- 
sity, decided  against  Sir  John's  decision.  The 
renowned  Colonel  Chaoehell  had  said  that  our 
hero  could  not  ride— that  a  sailor  never  could 
ride,  and  that  all  the  lessons  in  the  world  never 
would  make  him  ride ;  a  sailor  might  hold  on, 
but,  as  to  riding,  a  duck  would  more  properly 
grace  a  saddle  than  Sir  John.  Colonel  Chace- 
hell  was  the  first  sporting  character  in  the 
kingdom,  and  a  vain  roan.  It  was  hardly  that 
he  could  be  made  to  acknowledge  Sir  John*5 
superiority  in  yachting.  They  hated  each 
other,  and  they  tacitly  agreed  to  fight  a  duel 
with  horses ;  that  is  to  say,  decide  which  of  the 
two  could  break  the  neck  of  the  other  by  mad 
riding.  This  was  one  of  the  events;  another 
was,  that  the  town  began  to  thin,  and  Sir  John, 


JACK    ASHORE.  119 

fancying  himself  a  man  of  fashion,  would  need 
migrate  as  men  of  fashion  do.  But  the  other 
event  was  the  death  of  the  member  for  the 
little  dirty  borough  town  of  Fortintower,  which 
town  was  Sir  John^s  sole  property;  and  as 
some  had  dared  him  to  be  a  member  of  par- 
liament, for  that  sole  reason  he  was  resolved  to 
become  one. 

Not  one  of  these  events  singly  would  have 
operated  upon  our  hero  in  withdrawing  him 
from  his  favourite  haunts;  but,  combined,  he 
determined  to  go  down  immediately  to  his 
principal  estate,  Fortintower  Hall,  enact  the 
host,  get  returned  for  his  own  borough,  hunt, 
shoot,  and  break  Colonel  Chacehell's  neck,  if 
he  could.  Accordingly,  Sir  John,  his  lady. 
Colonel  Chacehell,  and  a  famous  dog-fancier 
and  rat-catcher,  named  Groggy  Foxhead,  made 
the  partie  qtiarree  in  the  baronet's  travelling 
coach.  They  went  down  in  style.  Other 
vehicles  conveyed  valets,  femmea  de  chambre^ 
and  the  usual  appurtenances  to  wealth,  among 


120  JACK  ASHORE. 

which  was  his  faithful,  though  neglected  friend 
and  lawyer,  Mr.  Singleheart. 

We  must  just  remark  that  the  colonel  was  a 
very  handsome,  dressy,  aristocratic-looking 
middle-aged  man,  crafty  and  not  rich  ;  with  a 
well-oiled  tongue,  and  two  absorbing  devotions 
—one  to  himself,  and  the  other  to  the  fair  sex. 
Consequently  Sir  John  ought  not  to  be,  and  no- 
body else  was,  surprised  at  the  sporting  colonePs 
devotion  to  Lady  Truepenny.  She  liked  it, 
but  Sir  John  did  not,  though  he  had  long 
ceased  to  like  her.  However,  as  our  hero  had 
most  decidedly  and  charitably  resolved  to  break 
the  colonel's  neck,  he  thought  this  outrageous 
flirtation  might  be  tolerated  for  the  little  time 
that  would  elapse  before  the  colonel  was  brought 
home,  black  in  the  face,  on  a  hurdle. 

Groggy  Foxhead  was  an  unmitigated  black- 
guard, who  ought  long  ago  to  have  been  hung. 
As  he  was  the  most  unflinching  rascal  about 
town,  he  was  petted  with  a  great  deal  of  pa- 
tronage; he  was  taken  down  to  be  generally 


JACK    ASHORE.  121 

useful,^ and  to  manage  the  election.  He  could 
turn  his  hand  to  anything,  and  Sir  John^s 
acquisition  of  the  scoundrel  was  much  envied 
by  the  whole  fraternity  of  lordly  bloods. 

We  must  call  our  friend  ^  Jack'  once  more,  for 
really  we  cannot  help  liking  him.  As  he  ap- 
proached the  baronial  residence  of  his  ancestors, 
through  majestic  woods,  and  the  sweet  silence  of 
rural  tranquillity,  his  heart  smote  him  for  his 
self-degradation.  The  bells  of  his  little  town 
rang ;  there  was  a  cavalcade  of  the  neighbour- 
ing gentry  to  meet  and  escort  him  home  for 
the  three  last  miles  of  his  journey;  and  a 
goodly  display  of  happy  tenantry  were  assem- 
bled to  greet  him  on  the  lawn  of  his  stately  hall. 

He  was  silent  and  ashamed.  At  the  mo- 
ment he  alighted,  he  abhorred  his  compa- 
nions; he  was  disgusted  at  the  simple  forward- 
ness of  his  wife,  found  the  specious  colonel 
detestable,  and  beheld  the  blackguard  rat- 
catcher with  absolute  loathing. 

He  did  not  make  a  favourable  impression  upon 

VOL.    III.  G 


122  JACK  ASHORE* 

his  neighbours.  He  was  awkward  and  shy ;  the 
honest*  frankness  of  the  sailor  dfd  not  appear, 
and  he  imitated  the  man  of  fashion  abominably. 

However,  the  colonel  took  off  all  trouble 
from  his  hands,  and  relieved  him  from  doing 
the  honours  of  the  host.  The  respectable 
heads  of  the  old  families  in  the  neighbourhood 
thought  the  new-coraers  a  queer  set,  and  much 
regretted  the  exchange  of  owners  that  the  pro* 
pertjf  had  so  singularly  found.  With  the  ex- 
ception of  those  whose  interests  bade  them 
stay,  the  rest  of  the  gentlemen  left  early,  and 
not  more  than  fifteen  sat  down  to  dinner  with 
Sir  John  for  the  first  time  in  his  paternal  halL 

It  was  a  night  of  revelry,  and  Sir  John  got 
aristocratically  drunk ;  but  he  was  drunk 
sooner  than  the  rest ;  and  when  all  his  guests 
had  departed,  he  got  sober  enough  to  observe 
things  passing  between  the  colonel  and  his 
wife  that  made  him  very  miserable.  It  was  not 
much — nothing  more  than  gallantry,  a  little 
heightened  by  incipient  intoxication,  and  not 


JACK    ASHORE.  123 

sufficiently  repelled  by  the  lady ;  and  poor 
Jack  was  neither  sober  enough  to  remonstrate, 
nor  to  act ;  so  he  got  dead  drunk  again,  and  in 
that  state  was  carried  to  his  room,  under  the 
superintendence  of  his  affectionate  wife  and  her 
affectionate  friend. 

Sir  Jdm  and  his  lady  had,  for  some  time, 
slept  in  separate  rooms.  This  arrangement 
had  originated  solely  in  the  fact  that  the  gen- 
tleman seldom  went  to  bed  at  home,  and  never 
sober.  Jack  arose  early  next  the  mornings  fever- 
ish and  miserable;  unnoticed  he  walked  out 
among  his  shrubberies  and  enclosures,  eating 
to  nausea  the  bitter  bread  of  repentance.  The 
balmy  air,  the  fresh  breeze  of  the  autumnal 
morning,  the  gorgeous  beauty  of  the  hanging 
woods,  and  the  repose  of  the  scene,  at  once 
allayed  both  his  physical  and  mental  sufferings. 

He  strolled  on,  and  passed  into  the  vil- 
lage, that  lay  cradled  up  in  the  forest  be* 
neath  the  HalL  Here  he  met  with  respectful 
and  kindly  greetings;    he  heard  the  voice  of 

G  2 


124  JACK   ASHOEE. 

pity,  that  was  not  iotended  for  him  to  hear,  for 
his  looks  of  illness  —  and,  whilst  both  bodj 
and  soul  grew  more  healthful,  he  grew  more 
sad* 

One  very  old  man  blessed  him,  and  blessed 
his  beautiful  wife,  and  hoped  yet  to  see  his 
children  before  he  died,  to  bless  them  also.  It 
was  long,  very  long,  since  Jack  had  heard  the 
voice  of  nature.  He  was  moved  by  it  almost 
to  tears.  He  took  the  horny  hand,  so  hard 
with  honourable  labour,  and  pressed  it  in  his 
now  softened  and  flaccid  one. 

"  Thank  ye,  shipmate,  and  heartily,  for  your 
blessing,"  said  Sir  John.  *^  I  wish  you'd  show 
me  how  to  deserve  it." 

"  Why,  Sir  John,  if  you  wish  to  deserve  it, 
you  will  deserve  it,  surely.  You  look  kind- 
hearted,  and  arn*t  a  bit  proud  like.  I  am  but 
a  poor  old  man,  and  can  do  nothing  but  pray 
for  you." 

•*  Well,  I  wish  you  would — I  wish  you 
would — it's  more  than  I  do  for  myself.    I  be- 


JACK    ASHOEK.  126 

lieve  youll  be  the  only  being  in  the  world  that 
does.     But  all  this  is  very  spooney — very.^ 

So  Jack  turned  away  with  a  false,  shame  upon 
him,  and  under  a  false  impression  too — for 
there  was  one  who  prayed  for  him  constantly, 
deeply,  and  fervently — one  whom  he  had  as 
totally  forgotten  as  if  she  had  been  but  a 
casual  face  met  one  day  among  thousands  in 
the  market-place. 

Sir  John  did  not  return  home  till  noon, 
during  which  time  it  was  supposed  that  he  wa» 
getting  rid  of  the  effects  of  his  debauch  in  his 
bedroom.  He  had  been  better  employed,  in 
endeavouring  to  rid  himself  of  his  evil  habits. 
He  had  made  very  fine  resolutions,  and  he  met 
his  wife  and  the  colonel  with  a  great  deal  of 
gravity,  and  ate  his  breakfast  more  like  the 
proud  and  shy  sailor,  than  the  harum*Bcarum 
would-be  man  of  the  world. 

But  this  morning  the  colonel  proved  very 
seductive,  and  his  lady  vastly  amiable;  and, 
before  the  repast  was  over,  the  exciting  news 


126  JACK    ASHORE. 

was  brought  that  Sir  John  would  not  be  allow^ 
to  walk  over  the  course,  and  win  his  election 
unopposed.  Now,  Jack,  before  he  was  ac- 
quainted with  this  astounding  fact,  felt  a  great 
repugnance  to  stand  at  all,  and,  in  his  solitude 
of  that  very  morning,  had  been  shaping  reasons 
for  himself  and  his  friends,  to  excuse  himself  for 
backing  out,  not  wishing  to  add  another  folly 
to  the  already  extravagant  volume  of  his  fool- 
ishness. 

^^Beat  to  quarters,"  said  Jack,  and  he  whistled 
out,  for  the  first  time  for  a  long  while,  *^  Hearts 
of  oak  are  our  ships,^'  with  the  true  spirit  of  a 
sailor.  New  life  seemed  to  hav^  been  imparted 
to  every  one,  and  all  was  bustle  and  animation. 

*^  I  am  willing  to  fight  whilst  there's  a  shot 
in  the  locker,"  continued  our  hero ;  *^  but  what 
amltodo?"" 

*^  I  am  down  to  all  these  things,^  said  the 
colonel.  *^  But  you  need  do  nothing,  for  Mr. 
Singleheart  here  tells  me  that  every  rascal  of  a 
voter  is  your  tenant  at  will.    Just  send  Groggy 


JACK    ASHORE.  It^7 

Foxhead  down  to  the  boroughreeve,  or  what- 
ever the  shopkeeping  blackguard  may  be  called, 
and  tell  him  to  bring  his  brother  voters  up  in 
a  body.  Give  the  malt-loving  swine  a  gorge  of 
bread-and-cheese  and  ale,  and  then  without 
ceremony  order  them  to  broomstick  the  new 
candidate  out  of  the  place  the  moment  he 
dares  show  his  impudent  face.  We  live  in  a 
free  country,  Sir  John,  where  every  one  has  a 
right  to  do  what  he  likes  with  his  own." 

*'  But,  colonel,  will  that  be  fair  fighting, 
above-board  ?" 

"  Fair !  to  be  sure  it  i&  What  do  you 
think  they  have  the  privilege  of  voting  for  ?" 

**  To  choose  the  best  parliament  man,  I 
take  it." 

<<  Pooh  !  a  forecastle  notion.  To  maintain 
th^  independence  of  the  English  character,  the 
prosperity  of  the  country,  and  to  obey  their  land- 
lord." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Singleheart,  let  us  have  your 
notion,^'  said  Sir  John. 


VIS  JACK   ASHOKK. 

Now,  Singlehcart,  though  one  of  the  frater- 
nity of  blackbirds^  was,  as  we  have  before 
stated,  a  rare  bird,  (which  reads  just  as  well  as 
a  rara  avis^)  being  in  all  things  honest ;  and  if 
there  be  degrees  of  honesty,  which  may  be  well 
doubted,  his  honesty  was  the  more  pure  and 
enlightened,  the  more  beings  it  was  lik^y  to 
affect.  If  he  venerated  honesty  as  between 
man  and  man,  he  adored  it  as  between  man  and 
millions.  His  simple  heart  warm  with  this 
feeling,  he  became  eloquent,  and  launched  out 
in  such  a  strain  of  enlightened  patriotism,  that 
it  startled  the  colonel,  made  Jack  get  up  and 
hug  him,  and  set  his  lady  yawning  so  out- 
rageously, that  it  cost  her  the  practice  of  an 
hour  and  a  half  at  her  looking-glass,  before  she 
could  again  make  her  pretty  features  settle 
down  into  their  habitual  smile. 

Sir  John  formed  his  resolution,  and  acted 
upon  it  instantly.  Before  he  rose  from  the 
table  he  sent  for  his  steward,  and  gave  direc- 
tions that  a  splendid  dinner  should  be  provided 


JACK   ASHORE.  129 

that  day  week  for  seventy.  When  he  took  the 
trouble  to  rouse  himself,  there  was  that  about 
him  which  not  only  forbade  disobedience,  but 
overawed  question.  The  colonel  smiled,  shrugs 
ged  up  his  shoulders,  and  offered  his  arm  to 
Lady  Truepenny,  who  exclaimed,  ^^  O  la ! 
seventy  V  and  tripped  with  her  devoted  at- 
tendant into  the  conservatory. 

"  I  say,  lawyer,"  said  our  hero  to  Mr. 
Singleheart,  who  remained,  *^  you  are  a  heart 
of  oak — sound,  sound  to  the  core.  I  honour 
you,  but  I  don't  like  you — that  is,  not  much. 
I  detest  that  colonel — ^he  knows  it;  and  yet, 
after  dinner,  I  should  be  loath  to  part  with 
the  beggar.  But  my  head,  at  times,  wanders 
sadly.  On  board,  I  could  get  drunker  than 
David's  sow  at  night,  and  have  no  more  head- 
ache next  morning  than  a  boar-pig.  Now, 
lawyer,  see  this  be  done,  and  well  done.  In 
my  name  let  a  respectful  note  of  invitation  be 
sent  to  every  one  of  the  voters  of  the  borough, 
to  honour  me  with  his  company  to  dinner  next 

.6  5 


130  JACK   ASHORE. 

Saturday.  Let  the  note  be  respectful — such  a 
note  as  a  middy  would  send  to  a  posl-captaiii. 
I  will  show  my  deference  to  the  suffrage — ^that's 
the  word,  I  believe — ^for  the  man,  lawyer,  who 
would  buUy  his  countrymen  out  of  their  rights, 
deserves  something  worse  tluui  being  kicked  to 
death  by  butterflies.  Now,  there's  a  jolly  cock, 
don^t  preach  against  me  this  morning.  I^U  be 
good  by*and-bye;  youVe  put  me  in  the  right 
tack  as  to  the  voting ;  now  let  me  know  how 
all  this  used  to  be  managed.'' 

With  a  little  tronble,  and  some  few  repeti- 
tions, Mr.  Singleheart  made  him  understand 
that  the  freemen  of  the  borough  had,  time  out 
of  mind,  voted  either  for  the  owner  of  the  pro> 
perty  or  his  nominee—that  under  this  in- 
fluence, now  a  Whig,  and  now  a  Tory,  had 
been  returned  —  that  the  late  member  had 
been  put  in  by  his  cousin  Lord  Fortintower, 
it  was  rumoured,  for  a  very  handsome  consider- 
ation— that  he  was  a  Tory,  and  that  it  was 
expected  that  he^  Sir  John,  would  either  stand 


JACK   ASHORE.  131 

for  the  borough  himself  on  the  Tory  interest) 
or  put  in  a  member  with  similar  princioles.'' 

^^  But  who  expects  this  ?*^ 

^^  Lord  Fortintower,  assuredly.  Had  not 
Mr.  Veerall  died  so  suddenly,  and  had  his  lord- 
ship been  in  England^  the  latter  would  have 
prompted  you  before  now.  The  minister  ex- 
pects it  also,  for  favours  done  to  your  cousin  he 
looks  upon  as  obligations  conferred  upon  you, 
and  Lord  Fcnrtintower  has  been  much  fa- 
voured.** 

Jack  whistled  out  shrilly  the  bar  of  a  very 
ugly  tune. 

<^  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  will  soon  hear, 
either  directly  or  indirectly,  from  the  minister 
himself  on  this  subject.  However,  as  parlia- 
ment  will  not  again  meet  before  January,  there 
is  plenty  of  time  to  arrange  your  plans  before 
the  Speaker  can  issue  his  writ  for  the  election." 
^'  And  you  think  that  all  this  quarter-deck 
ordering  is  wrong  i^ 

*^  Decidedly !    I  have  said  it — I  have  proved 
it." 


132  JACK  ASHORE. 

"  Then  leave  the  matter  to  me.** 

Sir  John  sent  for  his  man  of  all  work.     He 
appeared  in  a  state  fit  for  any  or  for  none. 

**  Groggy,  you  blinking  varmint,  you  are 
already  three  sheets  in  the  wind.  How  dare 
you  stow  away  your  spirits  before  your  master  ? 
There,  take  that,"  (administering  an  orthodox 
box  on  the  ear,)  ^^  to  steady  your  top  hamper. 
I  am  villanously  served,  Mr.  Singleheart.^ 

*'  You  have  villanous  servants— what  else 
can  you  expect  ?** 

*^  Ah,  true !  but  that's  preaching.  What 
have  you  to  say»  you  blackguard  ?"  said  Sir 
John  to  the  ratcatcher. 

^^  I  ain't  got  nuffen  to  say  particular  wise — 
only  as  this— Muster  Steward  as  a  guv  me  a  gal- 
lows drain  o*  summut  short,  upon  your  honnor*s 
fat,  beastly,  thick— ick  ale;  I'll  sob— ob— obber 
myself  in  no  time.  I'll  get  a  little  cold  water 
pumped  upon  my  pimple — and  I'll  be  more 
sobberer  than  a  judge,  and  a  precious  sight 
'cuter."* 


JACK   ASHORE.  133 

In  a  very  short  time,  the  fellow  was  as  fit 
for  roguery  as  nature  had  designed  him  to  be^ 
and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal  for  Groggy's 
capacity*  and  for  nature's  power.  He  was  then 
ordered  to  go  into  the  town,  and  learn  by  all 
possible  means  the  sentiments  of  the  voters, 
and,  without  compromising  his  master,  to  re- 
port them  to  him  faithfully. 


134  JACK   ASHOBK. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Jack  plays  sad  pranki^— Frightens  his  oompany,  robs  th^ 
rector,  astonishes  the  doctor,  and  mortally  offends  the  lord- 
lieutenant  --in  fact,  becomes  a  very  bad  boy,  neglecting  his 
wife,  and  cultivating  the  .bottle-^Election  matters  further 
discussed ~How  to  shoot  flying,  and  to  mark  your  game. 

Horses  were  ordered,  and  the  rest  of  the  day 
was  occupied  in  riding  about  the  estate,  and  in 
returning  the  calls  of  the  neighbouring  gentry. 
The  party  consisted  at  first  only  of  the  colonel. 
Sir  John,  and  his  lady.  Our  hero,  during  the 
excursion,  fell  into  a  thousand  inconsistencies, 
and  his  humours  were  more  variable  than  the 
flaws  of  wind  on  the  tropical  ocean  —  now 
agitated  with  contempt,  now  with  pity,  for  his 


JACK   ABHORB.  135 

angry  with  the  colonel  because  he 
was  not  sufficiently  amuang,  and  now  still  more 
angry  because  he  was  so  much  so  —and  always 
hating  him.  Indeed,  that  sporting  officer 
treated  Jack  like  a  hooked  shark — he  played 
with,  tormented,  but  was  fearful  of  coming  too 
near  him.  They  were  both  well  mounted,  and 
Sir  John  vainly  tempted  him  to  make  the  most 
dangerous  leaps,  and  to  ride  races  with  him 
over  the  most  broken  ground. 

As  they  proceeded,  they  gathered  several 
gentlemen  in  their  train,  among  whom  was  the 
immense  rector,  and  his  more  moderately  pro- 
portioned curate — both  mighty  hunters;  and 
afterwards  they  were  joined  by  the  principal 
doctor  of  the  place.  Bir  John  kept  all  these  in 
roars  of  laughter  by  his  strange  language,  his 
mad  challenges  to  Colond  Chacehell,  and  his 
singular  freaks  of  horsemanship.  That  morn- 
ing the  colonel  chose  to  be  all  gentleness  and 
urbanity,  and  assiduous  in  attention  to  Lady 
Truepenny,  as  if  to  make  the  contrast  between 


136  JACK  ASHORE. 

him  and  his  host  the  greater.  Whenever  they 
met  any  one  on  the  high-road  who  took  oflp  his 
hat  to  Sir  John,  he  hooked  it  away  with 
his  riding- whip,  and  whirled  it  in  the  air ;  and 
made  demonstrations  of  dismounting,  to  kiss 
every  pretty  woman  whom  he  met. 

He  then  dared  Colonel  Chacehell  to  play  a 
game  of  "  follow  your  leader,"  and  upon  re- 
ceiving a  polite  refusal,  he  commenced  playing 
tricks  with  himself  and  his  horse,— now  riding 
with  both  legs  on  one  side  of  the  saddle,  now 
on  the  other,  and  sometimes  with  his  face  to  the 
tail  of  his  steed.  But  there  was  so  much  good- 
humoured  drollery  exhibited  in  all  these  absur- 
dities, that  they  elicited  roars  of  laughter.  It 
is  so  easy  to  laugh  with  our  landlord,  our 
patroU)  and  our  host.  The  colonel,  however, 
got  on  most  amicable  terms  with  the  doctor, 
and  in  the  most  natural  way  in  the  world 
called  his  attention  to  all  Jack's  freaks.*  He 
was  a  sad  designing  fellow,  that  colonel. 

At  length  the  cavalcade  approached  a  slu 


JACK  ASHORE.  137 

gish,  muddy  pool  of  water  by  tbe  roadside, 
which  Jack  challenged  the  colonel  to  leap  with 
him.  This,  of  course,  was  refused.  Sir  John 
then  taunted  him  bitterly  with  want  of  pluck, 
and  avowed  his  determination  of  making  the 
leap  by  himself.  From  this,  every  one  present 
endeavoured  to  dissuade  him,  for  the  very  sen- 
sible reason  that  no  horse  that  was  ever  foaled 
could  have  done  more  than  about  half  tbe  dis- 
tance^  Could  there  have  been  a  better  cause 
assigned  for  making  Jack  attempt  it?  He 
made  three  or  four  trials ;  but  the  more  intel- 
ligent animal  swerved  three  times,  and  refused 
it.  But,  at  last,  being  maddened  and  goaded 
by  whip  and  spur,  he  made  a  most  extraordi- 
nary effort,  and  plunged  himself  and  rider  in 
the  centre  of  the  abominable  stagnant  slough. 

Not  one  of  the  party  but  was  covered  with  the 
splashing  of  the  liquid  mud — in  such  quantities, 
too,  that  it  drowned  their  propensity  to  laugh- 
ter. The  noble  animal  was  fixed  deep  in  mud 
and  water,  above  the  saddle.     Sir  John  was 


188  JACK   A8HO&E. 

obliged  to  dismount,  and,  with  the  water  up  to 
his  neck,  to  wade  on  shore.  It  was  only  a  joke 
to  him— he  loved  the  water  in  every  place  but 
in  his  own  throat — clear  salt  water,  if  it  were 
to  be  had,  if  not,  fresh  water — and  even  dirty 
fresh  water  was  better  than  none. 

The  next  thing  to  be  done  was  to  relieve  the 
horse  from  his  situation,  which,  by  the  assistance 
of  some  labouring  men,  was,  with  much  difficulty, 
effected.  Then,  against  every  remonstrance, 
wet  and  filthy  as  he  was.  Jack  persisted  in  re- 
mounting, saying,  that  it  would  prevent  himself 
and  horse  from  taking  cold.  Once  more  seated, 
every  one  gave  him  a  wide  berth.  He  had  lost 
his  hat,  and  his  lately  curled  and  powdered  hair 
hung  down  lankily,  and  in  streaks  of  various  co- 
lours, upon  the  collar  of  his  blue  and  gold-laoed 
coat.  His  hair  not  only  accommodated  a  suffi- 
cient quantity  of  mud,  but  was  thickly  entangled 
with  duck-weed,  whilst  strips  of  that  dark- 
green  filth  usually  found  in  stagnant  waters  in 
autumn,  hung  over  his  whole  outward  man. 


JACK    ASHORE.  189 

The  colonel  turned  his  horse's  head,  and 
cried,  **  Home !  home  !" 

Jack  turned  also  as  suddenly,  and  riding 
purposely  up  against  him,  added  a  little  of 
his  slime  to  the  already  bespattered  gentleman, 
and  heading  him,  and  all  the  party,  shouted 
lustily,  «  No  !  no  P 

There  was  hesitation. 

^^  Blow  my  topsails  into  shreds,  do  ye  call 
this  manly  riding,  lubber,  that  ye  be  ?  While 
in  London,  it  was  all  very  well  to  be  like  gilt 
gingerbread  in  a  fair ;  but  to  show  tail  for  a 
little  mud  and  water  in  the  country,  do  ye  call 
that  manly,  and  be  d — d  to  ye  ?  Tell  ye  what 
it  is,  my  hearties — ^you're  all  volunteers — ^to 
desert  is  downright  mutiny  ;  and  Til  just  pull 
that  man^s  nose  that  don't  sail  the  whole  voyage 
with  me.*' 

As  Jack  looked  fierce  and  determined,  every 
one  turned  his  horse's  head,  and  Sir  John, 
ipurring  through  the  group,  again  took  the 
lead. 


140  JACK    A8UORE. 


it 


Sir  John  Truepenny  is  Tery  much  excited,* 
said  Dcx^tor  KilcumpiL 

'<  Oh,  nothing  extraordinary  far  him^"  said 
the  colonel,  with  a  smile  of  diabolical  sigai« 
cancy. 

"Oh— hum  I     Ah!  ha!*^ 

Jack  rode  forward  a  little  while  in  silence, 
shaking  his  sedgy  locks  like  a  sea  god  mounted 
upon  a  hippopotamus.  At  length  he  reined  up, 
and  placing  himself  beside  the  rector,  he  looked 
into  his  round  and  rubied  countenance  with  an 
intense  energy,  then  immediately  relaxing  his 
features  into  a  smile  of  the  blandest  insinuation, 
he  requested  the  loan  of  his  reverence^s  hat  and 
wig. 

^^  My  hat  and  wig,  Sir  John  Truepenny  ? 
Impossible?" 

**  Really,  my  dear  Doctor  Canticle,  I  must 
have  them ;  I  ask  upon  christian  grounds." 

"  Sir  John  !  Sir  John  !"  shouted  every  one. 

"  I  am  quite  bald,^  said  the  rector,  not  at 
all  liking  the  look  of  the  advocate  of  christian 


JACK  A8HOBE.  141 

principles.  ^'  My  wig  is  clerical,'  and  my  hat 
is  clerical,  and  would  not  at  all  harmonise  with 
the  gay  profanity  of  your  dress." 

"  Call  you  this  gay  ?— Is  this? — is  this? — 
Nay,  look  ye ,-  my  outward  man  is  blackened 
into  humility ;  verily,  I  am  like  a  vessel  tarred 
all  over  with  a  tar  of  very  deep  blackness — I 
beg  your  wig  for  charity's  sake — ^and  begging 
the  wig,  you  will,  upon  christian  principles, 
give  the  hat  also — ^verily  !** 

^^  But  verily  I  will  not,"  snuffled  out  the 
parson,  now  in  great  trepidation.  ^*  Thou 
quotest  the  scriptures  wrongly,  and  art  thyself 
a  wrong-doer;  I  will  abide  no  more  in  thy 
society.  What  does  the  mad-brained  sailor 
mean  ?^  The  last  sentence  was  commendably 
inaudible. 

Now  changing  his  tone,  Jack  sang  out,  man- 
of-war  fashion,  ^^  Come,  belay  all  that — unship 
your  head-gear  and  that  in  the  twinkling  of 
a  star.  Am  I  to  sit  here,  in  the  middle  of  my 
own  estate,  with  my  pole  as  bare  as  the  breech 


143  JACK   ASHO&E. 

of  a  gun  with  its  apron  off,  whilst  you,  fat- 
headed,  word-spinning,  gospel*twisting,  amen- 
singing,  text-splitting  son  of  a  slush-tub,  keep 
jogging  comfortably  on,  wigged  like  a  mid- 
shipman with  a  cribbed  day's  work,  and  hatted 
like  a  coalheaver  ?     Unship,  I  say/' 

But  the  worthy  divine  had  pushed- forward* 
and,  clapping  spurs  to  his  horse,  made  off  at  full 
speed.  Sir  John  was  after  him  in  a  moment, 
and  the  rest  of  the  company  after  both  in  full 
cry.  Jack  soon  came  up  with  the  chase,  who 
surrendered  at  discretion,  threatening  all  man- 
ner  of  actions  at  law,  and  punishments  unlaw- 
ful. Sir  John,  with  an  air  of  satisfaction, 
placed  the  wig  on  his  own  head,  and  the  hat  on 
the  wig,  and  then  rode  on  with  a  great  deal  of 
holiness  in  his  demeanour,  whilst  the  rector 
rode  off  with  his  silk  handkerchief  over  his 
skull,  and  tied  under  his  chin,  with  very  little 
of  holiness  anywhere  about  him. 

All  present  thought  this,  though  a  little  mad, 
a  very  humorous  exploit;  indeed,  the  curate 


JACK  A6HOEE.  148 

told  Sir  John  that  the  joke  was  quite  attic;  but 
the  curate  was  peculiarly  gifted  for  appreciating 
Jack's  jokes,  for  the  rector  was  above  three- 
score, drank  and  hunted  bard,  and  the  living 
was  at  our  hero's  disposal. 

It  was  now  supposed  that  Sir  John  would 
have  been  contented  with  this  foolish  exploit, 
and  have  returned  home,  but  nothing  was  fur* 
ther  from  his  purpose.  He  said  that  he  fancied 
himself  excessively  in  his  new  head-dress*  and 
his  sense  of  politeness  would  not  permit  him  to 
omit  calling  upon  Lord  Loftiput,  the  lord 
lieutenant  of  the  county,  whose  mansion  they 
were  now  fast  approaching. 

i\s  he  could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  change 
his  resolution,  every  one,  except  the  colonel, 
declined  accompanying  him;  so  Lady  True- 
penny rode  homewards  with  a  tolerably  strong 
escort,  and  Sir  John  and  the  colonel  waited 
upon  the  earL 

Now,  Colonel  Chacehell  had  not  been  quite 
so  much  bespattered  as  the  rest  of  the  com- 


144  JACK   ASHOBE. 

pany.  and  had  used  all  his  art  and  care  to  rub 
off  the  mud  as  fast  as  it  had  dried ;  consequently 
he  was  not  altogether  a  fright,  but  certainly  in 
a  very  unfit  state  for  a  lady^s  drawing-room. 
Jack  was  filthy,  and  gloried  in  his  filth. 

We  know  that  our  hero  could  do  only  one  of 
two  things— act  in  his  own  character,  or  mimic 
that  of  some  other ;  and  in  mimicry  he  was  not  to 
be  surpassed.  But  he  was  already  at  the  door 
of  the  drawing-room  before  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  which  character  he  should  assume. 

Sir  John  was  announced  ;  and  as  his  strange 
story,  with  the  usual  exaggerations  of  a  strange 
story,  had  previously  heralded  him,  there  was 
no  little  interest  in  the  earl's  family  to  see  what 
manner  of  man  he  might  be.  The  countess 
and  her  five  showy  daughters,  and  her  four 
sons,  with  some  visiters,  were  all  assembled  in 
the  best  drawing-room,  with  the  earl,  to  im- 
press Jack  with  a  due  sense  of  their  own  im« 
portance,  and  to  estimate  his. 

Just  as  the  doors  of  the  room  wei^  flung 


JACK    A  SHORE.  145 

Open,  Sir  John  decided  not  to  be  himself,  but, 
as  he  had  on  Doctor  Canticle^s  wig  and  hat,  to 
put  on  also  so  much  of  his  clerical  character  as 
he  had  discovered,  when  he  attempted  to  dis- 
guise the  sportsman  with  the  parson's  cassock. 
But  this  was  so  small  a  specimen  to  act  by, 
that  Jack  was  obliged  to  eke  out  the  assump- 
tion with  something  methodistical ;  so,  drawing 
down  his  jaws,  and  casting  his  eyes  up  to  the 
ceiling,  he  entered  the  room,  closely  followed  by 
Colonel  Chacehell. 

Jack  spoke  not,  but,  advancing  slowly  into 
the  middle  of  the  apartment,  stood  bolt  up- 
right, with  his  toes  turned  well  in,  his  hands 
folded  across  his  breast,  and  with  his  two 
thumbs  slowly  revolving  round  each  other.  He 
had  made-up  his  features  into  a  stony  rigidity, 
excepting  at  the  corners  of  his  half-closed  eyes, 
where  were  nestled  whole  clusters  of  little 
laughing  imps.  This  pew  metamorphosis,  ac- 
customed as  was  the  colonel  to  Jack's  freaks, 
astonished  even  him. 

VOL.   Ill*  H 


146  JACK    ASHORE. 

The  /earl  and  the  colonel  were  known  to  each 
other. 

*<  We  have  met  with  an  accident  this  morn- 
ing, which  must  excuse  our  appearance ;  but 
Sir  John  Truepenny  was  so  eager  and  so 
anxious  to  pay  his  duty  to  your  lordship,  that 
we  determined  to  do  so  instanter^  trusting  that 
your  lordship  would  excuse  the  effects  of  our 
little  mishap.'' 

*'  Don't  mention  it,  Colonel  Chacehell,  don't 
mention  it ;  and  this  is  the  famous  Sir  John 
Truepenny  ?" 

'^  The  famous  Sir  John  Truepenny !"  said 
the  colonel,  with  an  ambiguous  grin. 

The  earl  bowed  low — Jack  leisurely  took 
off  his  shovel  hat,  and  bowed  much  more 
lowly — so  low  indeed,  that  his,  or  rather  Doctor 
Canticle's,  wig  fell  off,  and  disclosed  his  own 
powder-and-mud  plastered  hair  richly  bedecked 
with  duck-weed.  The  ladies,  not  excepting 
the  stately  countess,  were  tortured  with  sup« 
pressed  laughter,  whilst  all  the  gentlemen  gave 


JACK    ASHORE*  147 

free  vent  to  their  mirtb.  Jack  did  not  allow 
his  face  the  play  of  a  single  muscle,  but  placing 
his  toe  in  the  wig,  he  lifted  it  with  his  foot  to 
hia  left  hand,  and  then  with  his  right  began  to 
belabour  it,  as  if  it  had  been  sensible  to  chas<* 
tisement. 

After  this  whimsical  ceremony,  he  placed  it 
again  on  his  head,  considerably  awry;  then^ 
drawling  out  his  words,  he  exclaimed,  ''  I  am 
now  under  the  protection  of  the  church,  nay, 
I  am  as  a  folded  lamb^  I  am  beneath  the  pent- 
house of  the  temple,  and  in  safety  will  I  sit 
down  among  the  scoiTers.'' 

Having  thus  ejaculated,  he  flung  his  bemired 
person  on  one  of  the  rich  damask  sofas,  to  the 
utter  dismay  of  the  countess,  and  the  infinite 
mirth  of  her  daughters. 

The  earl  and  Colonel  Chacehell  whispered 
each  other  aside. 

**  Mad  or  drunk  ?'*  said  the  former. 

**  Neither  wholly  one  nor  the  other,  but  con- 
siderably both,**  was  the  reply. 

H  2 


148  JACK   ASHOBE. 

In  endeavouring  to  draw  out  Sir  John  in 
conversation,  that  genius  proved  excessively 
shy.  Whenever  he  stumbled  on  a  sea-phrase, 
he  would  stop  short  and  commit  some  con- 
venticle impiety,  with  a  very  sanctimonious 
look.  He  spoke  of  having  received  glimpses 
of  the  new  light,  of  having  been  lately  stuck 
fast  in  the  slough  of  Despond,  of  his  rescue 
from  thence,  of  his  pursuit  of  grace,  and  how 
the  personification  of  it,  in  the  appearance  of 
Doctor  Canticle,  had  fled  from  him — ^how  he 
had  overtaken  it,  and  how  he  had  transferred 
all  the  human  and  divine  grace  the  rector  ever 
possessed  to  his  own  individuality,  when  he 
appropriated  to  himself  his  hat  and  wig. 

Sir  John  then  complimented  the  earl  upon 
his  great  christian  humility,  the  countess  upon 
her  want  of  worldly  ostentation,  and  the  young 
ladies  upon  the  humble  simplicity  of  their 
dress ;  said  something  quite  touching  upon  the 
honest  manliness  of  the  young  honourables,  and 
was  absolutely  pathetic  on  the  high  moral  cha« 


.   JACK  ASHORE.  149 

racier  and  chaste  and  immaculate  conduct  of 
the  colonel.  All  this  was  done  with  a  stolid 
gravity  that  no  repartee  could  shake.  Indeed, 
all  present  were  at  a  loss  to  know  if  all  this 
was  the  outpouring  of  foolishness,  or  if  he  did 
not  make  his  apparent  folly  the  cloak  for  the 
most  bitter  sarcasms. 

Nor  did  he  confine  his  annoyances  to  words. 
He  did  all  the  damage  that  he  could — soiled 
every  chair  that  he  could  get  near,  threw  down 
vases,  and  overturned  work-tables.  At  last,  the 
countess,  fearing  the  complete  devastation  of 
her  best  furniture,  abruptly  left  the  room,  fol* 
lowed  by  her  sons  and  daughters,  and  the  earl 
suddenly  remembered  a  very  important  en- 
gagement. 

« Well,**  said  Jack,  "  FU  edify  with  you 
another  time.  I  did  intend,  to-day,  to  take  pot- 
luck  with  you,  as  one  Christian  should  with 
another,  without  fuss,  without  hypocrisy — in 
humbleness  of  spirit —in  soberness,  in  temper- 
ance—serene   in    faith,    discoursing    of  good 


150  JACK   A8H0EE. 

work«t  We  could  have  sent  for  Doctor  Can- 
ticle—he  would  have  come  in  a  new  wig,  briog- 
ing  with  him  new  light — it  is  impossible  to  say 
to  what  an  extent,  then,  we  might  have  carried 
our  holiness.  But  another  time^  brother  Chris- 
tian ;  I  know  that  your  modesty  is  hurt  by 
addressing  you  with  the  vain  titles  of  pr€>- 
fane  pride ;  so,  brother  Christian,  farewelL** 

We  need  not  say  that  the  most  positive  orders 
were  given  never  again  to  admit  Sir  John  True* 
penny  on  the  premises. 

Jack  and  the  colonel  rode  towards  home,  side 
by  side,  for  some  time  in  silence,  each  eyeing 
the  other  rather  suspiciously.  At  length  tbe 
colonel  spoke. 

"  Truepenny,  you  donH  play  your  game 
well" 

^^  Ah  !  my  water-wagtail— but  you  know  I 
never  game.^ 

*^  Well,  then,  frankly,  the  more  are  you  to 
be  pitied.  You  want  a  generous  excitement— > 
a  gentlemanly  occupation — really  your  stagna* 


JACK   ASHORE.  151 

tion  of  intellect  does  your  mind  harm.  You 
wandered  strangely,  and  acted  most  absurdly, 
before  the  earL     He  has  cut  you — dead !" 

"  You  don't  say  so  ?" 

^^  And  now  I  am  on  the  subject,  as  your 
friend— on  my  honour  as  your  friend — I  tell 
you  that  all  this  day  you  have  been  guilty  of 
extravagances  that  would  have  locked  up  a 
person  of  less  acknowledged  sense  in  a  mad- 
house I  repeat,  Truepenny,  you  don^t  play 
your  game  well.*' 

"  Colonel,  do  I  play  yours  f** 

This  was  said  with  a  harsh  startling  voice, 
that  for  a  moment  shook  the  coloneFs  nerves ; 
but,  recovering  on  the  instant,  he  said,  witk 
cool  impudence,  "  Probably  you  do." 

^'  I  should  like  to  know  what  are  the 
stakes?^  said  Jack,  relapsing  again  into  his 
usual  careless  manners.  **  Though  I  will  not 
game  with  you — though  you  think  you  are 
making  me,  in  spite  of  myself,  game /or  you-— 
either  with  cards  or  dice,  game  I  will  not — 


152  JACK   ASHORK. 

but   I'll  double  the  bet  on  the  steeple-chaae 
that  we  are  to  ride.'' 

^'No,  no,  one  hundred  guineas  are  more  than 
I  can  afford  to  lose,  and  just  about  as  much  as 
I  should  like  to  win  of  you,  as  I  certainly 
shaU.** 

**  I  will  bet  two  hundred  to  one,  if  you  will 
let  me  choose  the  ground.^ 

^^  Indeed  I  shall  not,  my  salt-sea  fire-eater. 
I  will  dare  anything  that  horse  and  man  can 
do — but  you  are  no  judge  of  a  horse^s  power, 
and  have  no  eye  for  distance — witness  the 
filthy  pond  this  morning.  Besides,  I  am  not 
married  unsuccessfully,  and  I  do  game  suc- 
cessfully —  so  a  broken  neck  would  be  no 
relief  to  me.  Any  of  the  neighbouring  gentle- 
men shall  select  the  ground,  and  I  will  ride 
the  race  with  you  as  soon  as  you  like.'* 

"  Well,  the  day  after  to-morrow.  To-mor- 
row we  are  to  try  the  covers." 

"  Agreed.  Play  or  pay.  You  understand. 
Sir  John,  that  nothing  must  prevent  the  stakes 


JACK  A8H0EB.  153 

being  paid  by  the  loser^  whether  the  loser  ride 
the  race  or  not — accidents,  sickness — nothing. 
It  is  all  a  risk,  and  these  are  the  chances  that 
make  it*** 

^*  I'm  up  to  a  little,  though  I  have  not 
served  my  time  to  it,  like  you — I  understand 
all  that" 

**And  I  am  to  have  the  choice  of  the 
horses  ?" 

"  Understood." 

Nothing  remarkable  occurred  until  Sir  John, 
his  lady,  and  a  few  guests,  sate  down  to  dinner. 
Our  hero,  as  if  to  redeem  his  character  from 
the  absurdities  he  had  displayed  in  the  morn- 
ing, was  particularly  quiet  in  his  demeanour, 
and  in  his  manners  displayed  the  well-bred, 
thouj^  not  the  highly-bred  gentleman.  His 
visiters,  who  had  heard  of  his  mad  exploits 
of  the  morning,  were  pleased  and  astonished 
at  his  correct  behaviour  in  the  evening. 
The  colonel  always  detested  these  fits  of  pro- 
priety, and  continually  attempted   to  provoke 

H  5 


154  JACK   ASHORB* 

him    into    extravaguice  —  this  night,  without 
e£Pect. 

The  repast  was  in  full  progress  when  the 
Honourable  Mr.  Erasmus  Muskrat  arrived  in 
a  postchaise  and  four.  He  was  an  utter 
stranger  to  Sir  John ;  but  as  an  under-secretary 
of  state,  and  the  confident  of  the  minister^  he 
doubted  not  of  a  gracious  reception.  He  was 
not  disappointed.  Jack  would  hear  nothing 
about  business  until  he  had  dined — and  when 
they  had  dined,  until  they  had  wined — and  when 
they  had  wined,  until  the  gentlemen  had  de> 
parted— *and  then,  as  Jack  used  to  say,  it  was 
grog  time  of  day,  and  he  was  fit  for  that  or 
any  other  work  that  required  judgment  and 
deliberation. 

Had  we  sufficient  space,  we  should  like  to 
give  the  whole  conversation  between  the  sailoi^ 
br^  baronet  and  the  office*bred,  sucking  poli- 
tician-r-for  the  sugared  no-meaning  suavity  of 
the  one  was  finely  relieved  by  the  honest,  manly 
bluntness  of  the  other. 


JACK    ASHORE.  155 

He  brought  a  letter  from  the  minister,  en- 
closing  one  from  bis  cousin,  Lord  Fortintower, 
asking  Jack  to  influence  the  return  of  tbe  Tory 
candidate,  Mr.  Max.  Sir  Jobn  told  Mr. 
Muskrat  that  he  should  stand  himself.  To  this 
tbe  ambassador  was  pleased  to  say  that  he  was 
glad  to  hear  it,  as  no  doubt  be  beheld  in  Sir 
John  a  supporter  of  those  measures  that 
were  upright  and  just,  and  those  men  who 
were  the  bulwarks  of  the  throne,  the  pillars 
of  the  constitution,  and  the  props  of  liberty, 
&c  &c. 

Jack,  in  order  to  tease  him,  said,  that  of 
course  he  should  like  to  be  one  of  these,  but 
that  he  intended  to  vote  for  Mr.  Fox  through 
thick  and  thin.  Erasmus  Muskrat  dropped  his 
glass  in  consternation — it  was  a  false  step — he 
recovered  himself  and  talked. 

"  Well,"  said  Jack,  "  you  seem  to  be  a  smart, 
active  young  fellow  enough" — for  Jack  chose 
to  be  himself  in  an  affair  of  so  much  moment — 
**  and  I  make  no  doubt  but  that  you  are  a 


156  JACK   ASHOBE. 

good  mizen^top  man  spoiled,  and  that's  more 
than  I  can  say  in  favour  of  one  in  a  hundred  of 
the  young  foplings  we  meet  about  town.  So 
you  shall  stay  here,  at  least  till  next  Saturday, 
when  all  the  electors  will  dine  with  me.  You 
may  then  see  what  chance  your  friend  has,  for 
it  shall  be  a  fair  stand-up  fight  between  us. 
To-morrow  we  shoot,  and  the  next  day  I  ride 
a  steeple^race  with  the  colonel — ^you  won't  want 
amusement  There  are  plenty  of  nice  girls 
round  about,  and  a  whole  muster  of  them  at 
the  Earl  of  Loftiput^s.  People  think  me  a  strange 
sample,  but  I  have  not  yet  made  up  my  mind 
what  I'll  be — so  don't  take  anything  odd  amiss. 
I  would  be  the  fine  gentleman,  did  I  not  find 
that  they  are  all  really  such  fools  or  such 
rogues — at  least  all  the  fine  gentlemen  who 
ever  fell  athwart  my  hause.  To-morrow,  as  I 
told  you,  we  shoot — so,  now,  as  I  don't  like  to 
encourage  youngsters  in  drinking  grog,  you 
may  either  go  up  to  the  ladies,  or  turn  in. 
You'll  find  yourself  in  good  quarters,  and  the 


JACK  ASHORE.  157 

only  way  in  which  you  can  do  your  master's 
work  will  be  by  staying  here,  and  seeing  how 
the  land  lies.'' 

**  My  master.  Sir  John  Truepenny !  but 
it  is  of  no  consequence — I  see  that  you  are 
a  humorist  —  so  I^U  wish  you  a  good 
night.** 

Jack  now  ordered  in  his  enemy,  in  the  shape 
of  cold  rum  and  water,  and  Groggy  Foxhead 
to  be  sent  to  him,  if  that  worthy  individual  was 
at  all  in  a  state  to  converse.  As  he  was  getting 
sober  for  the  third  time  that  day,  he  presented 
himself,  and  filling  his  tumbler,  the  two  went 
on  to  discuss  their  various  matters.  Groggy 
Foxhead's  account  of  the  dogs  was  very 
favourable,  though,  on  purpose  to  show  bis 
knowledge  and  enhance  his  importance,  he 
made  several  profound  professional  remarks, 
and  spoke  of  putting  a  few  of  the  canine  race, 
which  he  had  already  selected  as  his  patients, 
under  a  course  of  medicine.  The  horses  were 
next  commented   upon,  and  the  knowing  one 


168  JACK   ASHORE* 

was  pleased  to  compliment  Sir  John  upon  the 
bottom  and  blood  of  his  stud — they  wanted  a 
little  work,  but  altogether  they  were  in  exodleot 
order.  Much  of  a  two  hoars'  conversation  to 
this  effect  was,  as  Jack  expressed  it,  heathen 
Greek  to  him,  so  he  drank  tumbler  after  turn* 
bier  of  half-and-half,  and  won  the  rascal^s  heart 
by  the  implicit  deference  he  paid  to  his  judg- 
ment. 

The  election  business  was  soon  discussed* 
He  had  drunk  with  the  greatest  part  of  the 
voters,  and  had  made  the  discovery  that,  so 
far  from  any  other  candidate  than  Sir  John,  or 
one  of  Sir  John's  nomination,  being  returned, 
if  any  person  came  down  to  oppose  him, 
there  was  not  a  house  in  the  place  that  would 
receive  him,  and  the  man  would  be  very  lucky, 
should  he  escape  the  distinction  of  being 
tarred  and  feathered. 

Now  Jack  had  entirely  secured  Groggy's 
affection,  not  so  much  by  his  kindness  as  by 
what  he  called  his  noble  conduct  in  leaving  the 


JACK    ASHORE.  ]59 

sole  government  of  dogs  and  horses   to  him- 
self. 

Whenever  the  dog-fancier  could  afford  it|  or 
could  procure  any  one  to  afford  it  for  him,  he 
would  get  as  drunk  every  day,  and  as  often  as  he 
could.  The  first  fit  of  inebriation  was  always 
a  jovial,  the  second  a  quarrelsome,  and  the  last 
a  crying  one.  As  these  two  enlightened  in- 
dividuals proceeded  in  their  orgies.  Groggy 
became  quite  sentimental  and  lachrymose — 
swore  Sir  John  was  a  rigler  trump^that  h^ 
loved  him  as  one  of  his  own  babbies  —  with 
much  more  of  similar  blarney.  We  delight 
not  in  cockney  slang,  nor  do  we  wish  to  indite 
whole  pages  of  the  patter  of  the  rookery,  or 
the  eloquence  of  the  back  slums — in  all  which 
our  caninely  given  friend  was  perfect,  and  out 
of  which  he  could  not  converse.  However,  he 
made  Jack  understand  that  the  colonel  had 
given  him  five  guineas  to  make  our  hero  so 
dreadfully  intoxicated  on   the  morrow  night, 


160  JACK    ASHORE. 

that  he  would  be  totally  incapacitated    from 
riding  the  steeple-race  next  day. 

When  Jack  heard  of  this  little  sneaking  piece 
of  villany,  it  sobered  him  a  little — he  thanked  his 
informant,  told  him,  on  pain  of  his  displeasure, 
to  receive  money  from  nobody  in  his  house  but 
himself  took  a  deep  draught  of  cold  water, 
and,  wishing  his  astute  friend  good  night,  re- 
tired. 

Groggy  drank  just  so  much  as  enabled  him 
to  stagger  to  the  bell-pull,  when  twisting  it 
round  his  left  arm,  with  his  right  hand  be 
carried  to  his  lips  a  tremendous  goblet  of  rum 
a  little  qualified  with  water,  swaUowed  it,  and 
had  just  sense  enough  left  to  throw  the  tum- 
bler at  a  distance,  so  that  he  could  not  fall 
upon  it,  when,  as  he  had  judiciously  arranged, 
down  he  tumbled  insensible,  the  bell  t>ang  fu- 
riously, and  the  servants  came  and  carried  him 
to  bed,  as  he  had  previously  designed  that 
they    should    do.      For  getting  drunk   com- 


JACK   ASHORE.  161 

fortably  and  systematically,  nobody  could 
excel  the  renowned  Groggy  Foxhead,  horse^ 
doctor^  dog-fancier,  and  professor  in  brute 
medicine. 


J 82  JACK   ASUORB. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Jack's  first  leeson  in  partridge-sfaooting^-Laiighed  at  by  tba 
colonel — Those  lauf^h  best  who  laugh  last — Jack  hita  bis 
mark,  however,  and  tries  his  powers  of  consolation. 

The  next  day  was  ushered  in  by  a  beautiful 
morning.  Sir  John  Truepenny,  duly  equipped 
in  sporting  dress,  accompanied  by  the  colonel, 
Mr.  Erasmus  Muskrat,  two  neighbouring 
squires,  with  a  posse  of  gamekeepers  and 
hangers  on,  set  out  about  ten  o'clock  to  try  the 
Fortintower  covers.  Groggy  Foxhead  was 
also  there,  but  was  not  promoted  to  the  custody 
of  a  gun. 

Every  one  appeared  in  the  best  possible  spi- 


JACK   ASHORE.  I63 

ritfly  and  the  colonel  first  of  all  began  the 
banter,  bj  telling  Jack  not  to  fatigue  himself 
too  much,  as  he  had  the  important  race  to  ride 
the  next  day,  and  it  was  play  or  pay.  Jack 
took  it  all  in  good  part,  but  carried  his  double- 
barrelled  gun  so  awkwardly  that  every  one  took 
care  to  stand  out  of  the  way.  Game  was  soon 
started,  and,  as  host,  the  preference  of  firing 
was  given  him.  Jack  missed  everything.  He 
chased  the  hares  gun  in  hand  instead  of  firing 
at  them,  ran  in  upon  the  dogs,  vociferated  sea- 
shoutSy  floundered  through  hedges,  disappeared 
in  ditches,  tumbled  head  foremost  down  banks, 
his  gun  going  off  right  and  left,  as  he  rolled, 
staggered,  and  stumbled  along,  in  such  a  manner 
that  it  was  very  evident,  that  however  safe  the 
birds  might  be  from  his  attempts,  it  was 
likely  he  would  shoot  something. 

The  Honourable  Mr.  Erasmus  Muskrat  very 
early  took  the  alarm,  and,  pretending  an  intense 
headache,  returned  to  the  Hall.  But  the 
Nim^od  spirit  was  too  strong  upon  the  rest  of 


164  JACK    ASUORK. 

the  party  to  be  deterred  by  a  matter  so  trifling. 
They  contented  themselves  with  swearing  at 
Sir  John,  ordering  him  here,  there,  and  every- 
where, out  of  their  way.  Jack  fired  on,  but 
with  the  same  want  of  success.  At  length,  he 
actually  lost  his  temper,  or  appeared  to  have 
done  so;  spoke  very  contemptuously  of  throwing 
away  powder  and  shot  upon  such  insignificant 
animals  as  pheasants  and  partridges,  and  talked 
heroically  of  shooting  down  Frenchmen.  The 
sportsmen  only  laughed  at  him,  and  pushed  on, 
whilst  Jack'  sullenly  fell  in  the  rear.  Groggy 
was  always  near  him.  Just  as  our  hero  left 
the  party,  Colonel  Chacehell  shouted  to  him 
that  he  had  better  go  practise  at  a  haystack  at 
twenty  yards — but  not  to  weary  himself  in  the 
action,  for  the  sake  of  the  morrow's  race. 

The  party  had  entered  a  very  close  planta- 
tion, and  all  the  intervals  between  the  trees 
were  filled  with  underwood,  more  than  breast 
high,  admitting  scarcely  a  pheasant  through 
them.  This  cover  abounded  with  birds,  and 
the  firing  was  almost  incessant. 


JACK  ASHOSE.  165 

Being  now  considerably  behind  the  rest,,  and 
quite  out  of  the  fray.  Groggy  remarked  to  Sir 
John  that  his  hand  was  out. 

*^  And  yet/*  said  Jack,  **  with  musket  and 
ball,  I  could  beat  any  man  on  board.  Often 
standing  with  the  small-arm  men  on  the  poop, 
I  have  hit  a  bottle  the  first  time,  hung  at  the 
end  of  the  fore-yard  arm.  I  suppose  it's  all  prac- 
tice.    I  wish  I  had  a  mark." 

"  No,  no— fire  at  something  alive,  master — 
or  at  least  something  in  motion.  Just  lend 
me  your  popper,  and  stay  where  you  are." 

With  Sir  John's  gun  his  friend  disappeared, 
but  in  a  few  minutes  returned  with  a  pheasant 
that  he  had  brought  down.  Both  the  barrels 
were  again  loaded,  and  the  gun  returned  to  our 
hero. 

**  Now,  Sir  John,  you  shall  practise  at  this 
bird— but  we  must  make  it  natVal  as  life— you 
fire  too  soon — when  I  says  fire,  bang  you  go, 
and  no  nonsense — but  come  in  the  cover— if 
you  should  see  anything  alive,  go  it  at  that 


166  JACK   XSHORE* 

doa't  fire  higher  than  a  man's  hips.  In  this 
close  cover,  a  pellet  or  two  of  number  six 
might  find  its  way  through  a  very  soft  skull. 
Now  be  steady,  there's  a  good  Sir  John. 
1*11  keep  about  twenty  yards  before  you — 
remember  the  bottle  at  the  fore-yard  arm  C' 
—  and  the  dog-fancier  looked  almost  too 
sly  for  a  mortal.  He  led  the  way  into  the 
cover.  Jack  following  with  his  gun  at  the  make- 
ready  of  the  manual  exercise.  When  they 
came  at  what  we  must  suppose  Groggy  deemed 
a  convenient  place  for  practice,  he  flung  the 
pheasant  into  the  air.  Jack  presented — and 
when  on  its  descent  it  had  almost  reached  the 
ground,  the  dog-fancier  cried  out  *^  fire  1"  and 
Jack  slapped  off  his  piece,  lliree  cries  w&e 
heard  simultaneously. 

**  Hit  him  at  last  l**  roared  Jack. 
'    **  Bravo  1  hurrah  I"  shouted  Groggy. 

^^  Damnation  !  I  am  injured  for  life— a  sur- 
geon, a  surgeon,^'  shrieked  out  the  colonel. 

All    within    hearing  converged  round   the 


JACK   ASHORE.  167 

wounded  sportsmaD,  Jack  not  forgetting  to 
carry,  boastingly,  the  pheasant  in  his  hand. 

**  Where  is  your  hurt — where,  where?'  was 
the  general  sympathising  query.  The  nume- 
rous holes,  and  the  little  streams  of  blood 
oozing  from  them,  in  that  part  of  the  dress 
which  covers  the  human  frame  just  below  the 
back^  and  above  the  thighs,  plainly  indicated. 

The  next  inquiry  was,  "  Who  did  it  ?**  Jack 
showed  his  bird,  and  Groggy  volunteered  his 
attestations  that  it  could  not  be  our  hero.  No 
more  was  thought  of  shooting  that  day;  a 
hurdle  was  procured,  and  the  colonel,  being 
placcid  upon  it,  was  borne  in  an  uneasy  state  to 
the  mansion.  During  this  procession  Jack 
walked  on  one  side  of  the  hurdle,  acting  the 
part  of  condoler.  He  observed  that  there  was  no 
certain  danger— -merely  flesh  wounds — that  the 
shot  should  all  be  carefully  picked  out  one  by 
one,  even  if  he  were  obliged  to  stand  by  and 
see  to  it — he  rather  thought  he  would,  for  the 
friendship  he  bore  him.     If  one  of  the  pellets 


168  JACK  ASHORE. 

should  unfortunately  be  left  in,  the  conse- 
quences would  be  dangerous — most  likely  fatal 
—  considering  the  life  he  had  led,  and  his 
miserably  rank  state  of  body.  He  had  seen 
wounds  made  by  canister  shot— surgeon  too  lazy 
to  pick  out  all  the  little  bits — always  mortified 
when  left  in ;—- -yes,  he  would  stand  by  and  see 
every  shot  extracted — and  so  should  good  and 
careful  Groggy  Foxhead.  That  would  be 
some  consolation  to  all  of  them.  He  supposed 
the  colonel  would  not  ride  the  race  to-morrow. 
He  was  sorry  that  it  was  play  or  pay — but  it 
was  the  colonel's  own  stipulation — but  what 
were  the  hundred  guineas  ? — nothing. 

In  this  amiable  strain  our  friend  indulged ; 
but  the  colonel  was  ungrateful,  and  returned 
all  this  kindness  only  with  groans,  curses,  half- 
uttered  threats  of  vengeance,  and  vilifications 
of  his  own  folly  for  going  shooting  with  a  mad 
sea-brute.  But  Jack^s  temper  was  not  to  be 
ruffled  by  his  graceless  conduct— he  was  more 
bland  than  ever,  and  assured  the  sufierer  that 


JACK    ASHORE.  169 

the  bird  that  he  had  just  killed  should  be 
reserved  for  his  especial  eating  the  moment 
that  his  medical  adviser  would  permit  him  such 
an  indulgence. 


VOL.  Ifl. 


170  lACX    ASHORE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Contains  only  the  report  of  an  election  dinnei^May  there- 
fore be  passed  over  as  commonplace. 

The    next    day,    amidst  a  splendid   field    of 
gentlemen,  Jack  walked  over  the  ground  and 
won  the  race,  whilst  the  colonel  lay,  in  agony 
of  body  and  anguish  of  mind,  upon  his  uneasy 
bed.     Sir  John  had  been  unwittingly  correct  in 
his  prognostics;  the  numerous  wounds  festered, 
and,  at  one  time,  the  colonel  was  in  great  danger. 
No  shooting,  no  hunting,  no  racing ;  lassitude, 
ennui,  and  a  hateful  temperance,  were  now  the 
detested  lot  .of  this  fashionable  character. 

No  one  would  go  into  the  covers  with  Sir  John, 
excepting  Groggy  and  his  gamekeepers;  but 
our  hero  soon  learned  how  to  shoot  flying,  and 
became  an  expert  shot ;  and  he  never  failed,  at 


JACK    ASHORE.  171 

the  end  of  his  day^s  sport,  of  being  found  at 
the  bedside  of  the  wounded,  with  all  his  tro- 
phies vainglorious  upon  himself.  Colonel 
Chacehell  was  actually  tortured. 

The  Honourable  Erasmus  Muskrat  had 
given  a  faithful  account  of  all  these  proceedings, 
and  a  very  fair  character  of  Jack,  to  the  mi- 
nister, and  the  latter  requested  him  to  remain 
at  the  Hall  until  after  the  dinner,  and  said  that 
Mn  Max  should  make  his  appearance  the  day 
before  at  Fortintower. 

By  some  means  or  other,  Sir  John  was  well 
informed  of  all  that  had  taken  and  was  to  take 
place ;  so»  at  the  hour  Mr.  Max's  arrival  was  ex- 
pected, he  and  Groggy  disguised  themselves  as 
two  small  farmers,  and  in  a  borrowed  chaise-cart 
went  into  the  little  town.   They  were  not  recog- 

« 

nised. 

Punctually  to  the  appointed  time,  Mr.  Max 
arrived  in  a  chaise  and  four,  bis  servant  and 
the  postilions  wearing  orange  favours.  Never 
did  a  candidate  meet  with  a  worse   reception. 

I  2 


172  JACK  ASHORE. 

Every  inn  and  public-bouse  refused  to  take 
him  in,  and  be  drove  from  place  to  place 
amidst  the  derision  of  the  mob.  At  length 
from  laughter  the  rabble  proceeded  to  abuse, 
and  from  abuse  to  petty  acts  of  annoyance.  Nor 
Vtrere  there  wanting  some  of  the  better  sort  who 
subjected  him  to  worse  behaviour.  Finally,  the 
horses  were  stopped,  and  Mr.  Max  seized,  with 
the  avowed  intention  of  carefully  dragging  him 
through  a  very  dirty  horsepond. 

At  this  crisis  Jack  and  Crroggy  interfered, 
and  showed  fight ;  they  succeeded  in  rescuing 
the  candidate,  and  placing  him  in  the  cart,  and 
shouting  to  the  postilions  to  follow  with  the 
chaise,  they  made  off. 

Mr.  Max  was  profuse  in  acknowledgments, 
and  brimful  of  gratitude,  and,  offering  the 
apparent  countrymen  money,  was  a  little  sur- 
prised at  the  laughing  manner  in  which  it  was 
refused.  When  they  were  well  out  of  the  town. 
Sir  John  told  Groggy  to  take  the  chaise-cart 
home,  and  intimated  his  intention  to  Mr.  Max 
to  step  with  him  into  his  chaise.     The  gentle- 


JACK    ASHORE.  173 

man   demurred   a  little  to  this,  which   much 
amused,  but  a  good  deal  more  angered.  Jack. 

"  What's  in  the  wind  now  ?"  said  he. 

**  Why,  look  ye,  my  good  friend,  it  is 
true  that  you  have  rendered  me  much  service, 
and  I  am  not  only  willing  but  desirous  to  repay 
you  for  it ;  and  still  more  so,  as  you  have  pro* 
mised  to  take  me  to  a  place  where  I  may  be 
hospitably  received,  and  my  people  taken  care 
of.** 

^^  And  so  I  will;  make  yourself  easy  upon 
that  score.** 

**  Now  just,  my  fine  fellow,  make  the  obliga- 
tion perfect — there  is  room  for  you  in  the  dickey 
beside  my  valet — a  very  superior  person,  I 
assure  you.  Don't  be  alarmed  at  him — he  is 
not  at  all  proud,  and  will,  I  am  sure,  be  quite 
condescending." 

**  Why,  if  you  particularly  wish  it,  I  will ; 
but  you  were  glad  enough  to  bundle  your  deli- 
cate limbs  into  my  cart  half  an  hour  ago.*^ 

^*  But,  my  man,  we  must  not  confound  the 
orders  of  society." 


174  JACK   ASHORE. 

"  Very  well — here  you — drive  alcmg  the  road 
to  the  left  till  you  come  to  a  long  rustic  lodge, 
and  then  go  smack  up  to  the  hall." 

^*  Florimel,  be  dvil  to  this  good  fellow,  will 
you  ?"  said  Mr.  Max,  stepping  into  his  carriage, 
which  immediately  after  drove  on.  Florimel, 
obeying  his  master  after  the  manner  of  valets, 
was  very  conceited  and  impertinent  to  Sir  John 
on  the  dickey,  so  that  Sir  John  threatened  him 
with  a  wopping  when  they  alighted,  and  Flori- 
mel  threatened  Sir  John  with  bis  master. 

When  the  equipage  passed  the  gates  of  the 
beautiful  lodge,  the  keeper  only  stared  at  the 
person  in  the  carriage,  but  taking  off  his  hat, 
he  bowed  low  to  the  dickey;  whereupon  th^ 
valet  plumed  himself  excessively,  and  grew 
intolerably  conceited.  Arrived  at  the  haU> 
door,  the  well-appointed  footmen  and  the  major- 
domo  were  eager  to  attend  to  the  convenient 
alighting  of  those  behind,  nor  thought  at  all  of 
the  inside  passenger.  Mr.  Florimel  swelled  at 
this  with  fresh  consequence,  which  made    his 


JACK    ASHOKE.  175 

mortification  the  greater  at  being  unceremo- 
niously thrust  aside  by  the  servants,  and  all  the 
coyeted  assistance  bestowed  upon  his  despised 
companion. 

Mr.  Max  was  painfully  shocked  at  his  own 
conduct,  when  the  man  who  he  thought  was 
hardly  good  enough  to  be  the  companion  of  his 
servant,  welcomed  him  as  his  guest  at  Fortin- 
tower  Hall. 

But  now  we  have  no  time  to  dilate  on  all 
these  things — no  time  to  tell  how  Mr.  Max 

was  so  much  ashamed,  that  it  was  with  difficulty 

• 

he  could  be  persuaded  to  accept  of  Sir  John's 
hospitality,  and  how  much  more  difficult  it  was 
to  induce  him  to  become  his  opponent — 
nor  how  glad  Mr.  Erasmus  Muskrat  was  to 
see  Mr.  Max,*and  what  excellent  political  plans 
they  digested  together.  We  must  pass  over  all 
this  rapidly,  and  give  only  a  faint  outline 
of  the  famous  election  dinner. 

All  the  voters  obeyed  the  call — not  one  was 
absent ;  lameness  was  no  impediment,  age  no 


176  JACK   ASHORE. 

excuse,  illness  no  detriment.  They  were  all 
there.  It  was  a  day  of  surprises  to  them  all. 
Jack  acted  well  that  day,  and  mimicked  to  the 
life  the  courtly  and  bland  style  of  the  Earl  of 
Loftiput.  He  was  quite  as  empty  and  inane — 
excepting  when  his  natural  character  broke 
forth  in  spite  of  himsdf.  The  guests  had  seen 
nothing  of  their  host,  but  had  heard  much. 
His  extravagant  freaks  had  been  made  more  ex- 
travagant ;  of  a  verity,  such  odd  tales  had  been 
circulated  respecting  him,  that  they  would  not 
have  been  astonished  if  he  had  received  them 
standing  upon  his  head — indeed,  they  rather 
expected  it. 

They  were  surprised  at  seeing  so  perfect  a 
gentleman  —  they  could  not  distinguish  the 
mimic  from  the  real.  They  were  surprised  at 
the  aristocratic  splendour  of  the  feast — they 
were  surprised  at  the  exuberant  beauty  of  Lady 
Truepenny — they  were  surprised  at  her  sullen 
and  ungracious  deportment  towards  the  baronet, 
and  her  suavity  and  affability  towards  every 


JACK    ASHORE.  177 

one  else— and  they  were  infinitely  surprised  to 
find  the  man  who  had  been  turned  from  all 
their  doors,  and  to  whom  they  had  intended 
the  honours  of  the  horsepond,  sitting  a  favoured 
guest  at  their  landlord'^s  table,  cherished  by 
him,  and  smiled  upon  softly  by  his  wife.  But 
their  surprise  did  not  diminish  their  appe- 
tites,  until  their  appetites  had  diminished  the 
luxuries,  which  in  turn  at  last  diminished  their 
appetites,  so  that  they  had  leisure  again  to  be 
surprised;  and  there  was  plenty  of  occasion 
offered  them  for  it. 

When  the  cloth  was  removed,  the  borough- 
reeve,  who  was  the  malster  and  brewer  of  the  town, 
rose,  and  in  a  speech  that,  with  all  our  leniency, 
we  cannot  call  neat,  proposed  the  health  of  Sir 
John  Truepenny,  their  future  representative. 
Why  need  we  say  anything  about  the  applauee, 
the  stamping  of  feet,  and  the  rattling  of  glasses 
that  followed  ?  The  applauders  were  all  tenants 
at  will,  consequently  approvers  at  wish. 

Jack  rose,  and  ridding  himself  of  the  con- 

I  6 


178  JACK   ASUOEK. 

ventional  ^mace  of  the  character  be  had  heen 
mimicking,  he  stood  before  (hem  in  the  simple 
character  of  a  brother  man,  and  spoke  to  them 
thus. 

*^  Countrymen  and  brother  subjects— I,  as  a 
British  born  and  bred  seaman,  scorn  to  show 
myself  under  false  colours.  My  worthy  and 
too-much-neglected  friend  there*  Mr.  Single* 
heart,  that  kindly  looking  gentleman,  thafs 
blushing  up  to  the  eyes— honeat-hearted  man 
that  he  is — ^haa  told  me  a  few  things  that  I 
ought  to  do,  and  that  you  ought  to  do — I'U  do 
what  I  ought,  and  take  care  that  you  do  so 
also.  Well,  my  beavUes,  the  first  broadside 
that  I  shall  give  you,  will  be  to  tell  you,  that 
you  have  shown  yourselves,  in  one  instance,  all 
of  you,  from  the  skipper  to  the  swabwasher — 
and  you  may  settle  who^s  who  among  you — a  set 
of  snivellingf  dirty,  lickspittle  sonsof  your&thers 
and  mothers^  who,  it  is  to  be  fervently  hoped, 
were  better  than  yourselves — ^because  why,  you 
treated  this  gentleman  with  inhospitality,  and 


JACK    ASUOKE.  179 

in  a  manner  that  would  disgrace  a  parcel  of 
Hottentots-*as  if  that  would  be  the  right  way 

to  curry  favour  with  me,  and  be  d d  to  you, 

— ^me,  who  has  fit  under  a  flag,  the  flag-staiF  of 
which  the  best  of  you  ain't  worthy  to  touch. 
Well,  I  see  that  you  are  all  confoundedly  chop- 
£edlen;  your  faces  look  Kke  so  many  ape's 
pouches,  and  so  it  should  be  touching  this  here 
matter.  Now  mind  ye,  my  jollies,  I  am't  a 
word  to  say  against  you  excepting  for  this  here 
scrimmage— dare  say  you  are  all  excellent  men 
in  your  own  way — good  husbands*-gppd  fathers 
— careful  tradesmen — and  you  go  to  church  or 
meeting  regularly,  strike  a  balance  with  the 
angel  Gabriel,  and  thus  keep  your  accounts 
clear  for  the  next  world,  though  your  books 
may  be  a  little  blotted  in  this — worthy  men 
no  doubt  you  all  are,  and  very  dutiful  to  your 
wives.  Now  I  suspect,  in  the  first  place,  that 
yon^ll  ask '  Mr.  Max^s  pardon,  and  then  we'll 
all  proceed  to  business  in  the  most  friendly 
manner  possible.** 


180  JACK    ASHORE. 

The  respectable  constituency  of  the  borough 
of  Fortintower  were  clamorous,  as  with  one 
voice,  in  expressing  their  sorrow  for  what  had 
occurred,  and  each  was  proposing  to  deny  that, 
individually,  he  had  had  any  participation  in  the 
outrage ;  but  M n  Max  lifted  up  his  voices  and 
said,  ^*  That  there  was  no  offence  committed  at 
all — that  he  looked  upon  it  as  a  pleasant  joke  ;** 
at  which  Jack's  fist  fell  thunderingly  on  the 
table,  and  he  demanded  silence. 

"  Gentlemen,^  said  he,  "  I  love  sincerity. 
Mr.  Max  has  said  that  you  have  not  offended 
him,  therefore  you  have  nothing  to  be  sorry  for 
-—and  that  your  pelting  him  with  mud  and 
filth  was  only  a  pleasant  joke.  Infamal  sorry 
am  I  that  I  interfered — but  you  know  how, 
gentlemen,  to  receive  him  pleasantly  the  next 
time  that  he  comes  among  you.  I  did  not 
before  know  that  the  candidate  and  the  con- 
stituency fitted  as  cleverly  as  the  fid  fits  the  heel 
of  the  topmast.  What  I  have  to  say  to  you, 
my  good  people,  is  this — vote  according  to  the 


JACK    ASHORE.  181 

little  conscience  that  the  tyranny  of  your  former 
landlords  and  your  habits  of  trade  may  have 
left  you.  I  will  not  be  such  an  ass  as  to  affect 
the  grand,  and  bribe  you  to  vote  against  me ; 
but  if  ever  I  find  a  man  among  you  that  votes 
for  me  to  curry  my  favour,  if  I  have  strength 
enough  in  me  I'll  curry  his  hide — or  my  name's 
not  Jack  Truepenny." 

Vociferous  applause,  and  the  imbibing  of 
much  wine  to  the  toast  of  **  Our  Landlord  and 
Independence,'^  followed  this  announcement. 
Jactc  resumed  by  saying,  that  ^*  Mr.  Max 
would  tell  them  why  he  should  be  their  mem« 
ber  if  he  could,  and  that  would  save  him  the 
trouble  of  future  canvass.*** 

Mr.  Max  rose  gracefully,  and  made  a  first- 
rate  speech.  After  he  had  told  them  that  they 
were  the  most  high-minded,  the  most  inde- 
pendent, and  the  most  worthy  of  constituents 
in  the  world,  and  that  he  was  utterly  unworthy 
in  himself  to  be  the  representative  of  such 
virtue  and  magnanimity,  he  very  consistently 


182  JACK    ASHORE. 

and  boldly  asked  them  to  make  him  so.  We 
would  giye  his  eloquent  oration  at  full  length, 
had  it  not  been  printed  a  thousand  times  in  all 
the  journals  that  ever  reported  an  election 
speech.  The  sum  of  it  was,  that  if  thej  re- 
turned him  as  their  member,  a  consummation 
of  bliss  but  little  short  of  the  millenium  would 
come  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  aspirant 
sat  down  amidst  unanimous  cheering,  and  Sir 
John  Truepenny  rose  and  said — 

**  You  haye  heard  Mr.  Max's  yarn — ^it  was 
weU  spun,  and  fit  for  gammoning  anything 
but  a  bowsprit  or  an  old  sailor.  Take  it  for 
just  as  much  as  it  is  worth,  and  if  you  find  that 
you  have  got  it  too  cheap  a  bargain,  give  him 
back  the  fag-endsr  Now,  I  differ  from  him 
altogether — in  toto  oBlOy  as  my  Latin  master 
used  to  say ;  which  I  take  to  meaoy  that  there  is 
about  as  many  truths  in  his  speech  as  seals  have 
toes.  Why  I  come  my  learning  over  you  is 
this — Mr.  Max  gave  you  some  Ijatin  quota- 
tions, which  he  knew  you  did  not  understand, 


JACK  ASHOmE.  188 

and  I  have  given  you  one  also,  just  to  show 
you  that  I  and  Mr.  Max  are,  aa  regards  Latin, 
much  of  a  muchness*  My  nien»  I  have  bad 
masters^  and  Grod's  blessing  go  with  them. 
My  opponent  has  told  you  of  what  impor- 
tance you  are ;  now  I  don't  think  you  are  of 
much  consequence^  He  spoke  to  you  about  up. 
holding  your  glorious  constitution;  now  I  think 
you  know  no  more  about  it  than  I  do»  and 
that's  about  as  much  as  the  cat>-he«d  knows 
about  the  compass^  You  know  nothing  about 
the  balance  of  power»  political  economy,  the 
circulating  medium,  or  the  Catholic  emancipa* 
tion — no  more  do  I ;  and,  between  you  and  me, 
it  would  be  well  for  us  all  if  other  people,  the 
big  wigs,  didn't  fancy  they  knew  more — that^s 
Jack's  notion.  I  know  nothing  about  legisla* 
tion,  or  about  anything  that  I  read  of  in  the 
papers,  that  people  make  speeches  about  in  par- 
liament.  So  I  tell  you  what  it  is — there  is  al- 
ready too  much  knowledge  there — too   much 


184  JACK    ASHORE. 

gift  of  the  gab  —  there  wants  a  little  plain 
honesty,  just  to  make  them  remeniber  there  is 
such  a  thing;  and  if  you  make  me  your  mem- 
ber, I'll  take  it  there.  I'll  just  go  there  as  the 
poor  man'^s  friend — ^if  I  can't  speak  for  him,  1^11 
set  up  a  shout  that  shall  startle  the  proudest 
and  laziest  among  them.  •  On  matters  that  I 
don't  understand  I  won't  vote^  and  upon  those 
I  do,  I'll  vote  for  the  upright  thing  —  the 
straight  course,  and  scorn  tack  and  half*tack 
where  I  can  make  my  port  by  plain  sailing. 
Now,  my  jollies,  when  the  time  comes,  vote  ac- 
cording to  your  consciences,  and  then,  if  you 
don't  send  up  the  best  parliament  man,  the 
Lord  will  forgive  your  ignorance ;  but  if  you 
vote  upon  any  mean  and  shabby  motive,  may 
the  devil  ride  you  pickaback  with  his'  best 
spurs  on.  So  no  more  of  this  at  present.  We*H 
now  be  as  merry  as  mudlarks  round  the  grog- 
tub,  and,  under  Providence,  get  gloriously 
fuddled." 


JACK    ASHORE.  185 

And  so  they  did,  and  the  Honourable  Mr. 
Erasmus  Muskrat  and  his  friebd  departed  the 
next  morning  for  town,  with  only  the  smallest 
possible  portion  of  hope  for  success  at  the  en- 
suing election. 


186  JACK    A6H0SE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Sbowetb  how  to  get  up  •  deputation,  aod  bow  to  get  it  well 
off ;  and  also  how  well  to  answer  it — How  to  make  the  wind 
fair — Sound  steeple  doctrine — How  to  receiTe  a  deputa- 
tion, and  what  to  expect  for  dinner  on  a  banjran  day. 

There  were  very  great  doings  anticipated  at 
Fortintower  on  the  approach  of  Christmas. 
There  was  to  be  the  usual  subscription -ball,  at 
which  it  was  expected  that  the  strength  of  the 
two  contending  political  parties  would  display 
itself;  and  that  Sir  John,  Lady  Truepenny, 
and  their  guests,  would  show  in  all  their  glory 
for  the  first  time. 

In  consequence,  the  large  room  at  the  Fortin* 
tower  Arms  was  repaired,  furbished  up,  and 
rurally  decorated.    Tickets  were  at  a  premium, 


JACK    ASHOEE.  187 

and  it  was  firmly  believed  that  the  proud  and 
form-entrenched  family  of  the  Earl  of  Loftiput 
would  condescend  at  least  to  be  a  spectator  of 
the  scene,  if  they  would  not  so  far  bumble  them- 
selves as  to  participate  in  the  dance.  The  mere 
shopocracy  were  never  admitted  on  similar  occa- 
sions, unless  the  aspirants  to  the  honour  of  pay- 
ing their  half-guineas  for  the  privilege  of  being 
looked  down  upon  by  the  squirearchy  had 
some  redeeming  qualities.  But  the  then  state 
of  the  country  made  these  exceptions  very 
numerous.  England  was  threatened  with  inva* 
don,  and  loyalty  was  at  blood-heat.  AU  the 
yeomanry  of  the  district  were  admissible  by 
virtue  of  their  horses  and  their  military  accou- 
trements ;  and  the  united  Fortintower,  Furie- 
bushton,  and  Miredoun  volunteers,  being,  so 
far  as  they  were  soldiers,  gentlemen,  had  also 
the  right  of  entr^.  How  far  this  was — as  they 
themselves  were  too  discreet  to  avow — we  shall 
not  be  too  scrupulous  in  endeavouring  to  certify. 
The  barber  and  his  lady  were  certainly  with- 


188  JACK    ASMOKE. 

out  this  social  and  sacred  pale  of  respectability 
as  touching  the  poll  and  the  basin,  but  most 
certainly  within  it  by  the  poising  of  the  hal- 
berd ;  as  Mr.  Nicholas  Needleham,  though  he 
condescended  to  divorce  the  stubble  from  the 
chins  of  the  whole  community  for  a  generously 
trifling  remuneration,  had  still,  when  in  full 
uniform,  a  great  command.  On  parade  days, 
he  was  like  the  Roman  centurion,  only  much 
more  lofty  in  his  bearing ;  for  did  he  not  say 
to  any  one  of  his  tens  and  his  twenties,  **  Gt>, 
and  he  goeth ;"  do  this,  and  (if  he  could)  he 
did  it. 

Very  many  in  Mr.  Needleham^s  class  were 
similarly  situated.  Indeed,  the  half-guinea  ap- 
peared to  be  the  only  barrier ;  that  surmounted, 
the  assembly  room  at  the  Fortintower  Arms 
was  as  accessible  as  the  sea :  a  simile  the  merits 
of  which  few  will  go  deep  enough  to  discover. 

Deputations  are  very  nice  little  pastimes  for 
little  people.  They  are  much  cherished  by 
all  the  worshippers  of  rank,  and  a  very  pleasant 


JACK  A8HOBE.  189 

contrivance  for  shuffling  on  a  suit  of  second- 
hand dignity.  The  two  lawyers  of  the  place, 
agreeing  for  once  to  lay  aside  their  private  and 
their  political  animosity,  uniting  with  the  bo- 
rough-reeve,  called  a  meeting  of  the  principal 
inhabitants  of  Fortintower,  in  order  to  consider 
the  propriety  of  waiting  upon  Sir  John  True- 
penny in  due  form,  to  request  that  he  would  do 
them  and  the  respectability  of  the  town,  which 
they  affirmed  that  they  represented,  the  honour 
of  permitting  himself  to  be  named  one  of  the 
stewards  on  the  momentous  and  solemn  occasion 
of  the  ensuing  ball. 

The  proposition  was  strongly  debated,  over 
beer  as  strong  as  were  the  various  arguments ; 
which  arguments  being  all  on  one  side,  the  chair- 
man, without  much  difficulty,  came  to  the  .very 
just  conclusion,  that,  in  the  opinion  of  the  meet- 
ing, it  was  proper  that  a  deputation  should 
be  formed  of  all  then  and  there  present,  or  a 
majority  of  them,  or  any  part  of  them,  and  that 
they  should  proceed  to  Fortintower  Hall,  and 


190  JACK    ABHOES. 

carry  out  manfully  the  very  intents,  in  letter  and 
spirit,  of  the  resofutiGfiis  thus  so  unanimously' 
passed* 

It  was  next  suggested  that  a  respectful  letter 
should  be  addressed  to  Sir  John,  requesting 
him  to  state  on  what  particular  day,  and  at  what 
particular  hour  of  what  particular  day,  he 
would  be  pleased  to  receive  the  members  of  the 
deputation.  This  suggestion  was  acted  upon 
immediately  after  a  Uttle  difficulty  had  been 
disposed  of,  as  to  who  was  the  proper  person  to 
compose  and  pen  the  humble  request.  Either 
of  the  two  lawyers  was,  professionally  and 
through  habit,  physically  incapable  of  perform- 
ing this  little  affair ;  as  the  not  receiving  six 
shillings  and  eightpence  for  the  job  would  press 
so  heavily  upon  their  circulation  as  to  threaten 
apoplexy.  Yet  no  other  person  present  would 
do  it ;  and  it  would,  perhaps,  have  for  ever  re- 
mained undone^  had  not  the  exciseman  found 
out  a  clever  process  to  conquer  the  conscientious 
and  professional  scruples  of  the  two  legal  func- 
tionaries. 


JACK    ASHORE.  191 

This  person  gauged  the  matter  thoroughly, 
and  then  requested  the  whig  lawyer  to  make 
out  a  rough  draft  of  the  letter;  and  for  so  doing, 
made  the  tory  lawyer,  on  behalf  of  the  meeting, 
hand  him  over  the  customary  six  and  eightpence. 
When  this  draft  was  finished,  he  desired  the 
tory  lawyer  to  make  a  fair  copy  from  it ;  and 
when  this  was  completed,  he  ordered  the  whig 
lawyer  to  hand  over,  in  like  manner,  the 
same  six  and  eightpence  to  the  tory.  What  a 
very  excellent  method  of  paying  opposing 
lawyers !  Would  that  it  were  both  the  legal 
and  the  general  practice ! 

The  letter  was  despatched  to  its  destination ; 
and  as  the  distaMe  that  it  had  to  travel  was 
not  great,  most  of  the  meeting  loitered  about 
the  place,  awaiting  the  expected  answer.  They 
had  searedy  time  to  consume  sundry  measures 
df  the  infufdon  of  malt,  and  ta  become  impa- 
tient, when  the  messenger  made  his  re-appear- 
ance, a  good  deal  astonished,  and  not  a  little 
overheated.     He  informed  the  gentlemen  that 


192  JACK    ASHORE. 

he  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  Sir  John, 
whom  he  found  among  his  pigsties,  in  earnest 
conversation  with  his  blackguard  Achates, 
Groggy  Foxhead,  and  they  were  in  the  philo- 
sophical  act  of  experimentalising  upon  the 
ebriety  of  the  swinish  population,  by  mixing 
with  their  wash  a  large  proportion  of  strong 
grog.  The  noise  was  hideous,  and  the  antics  of 
the  animals  very  exhilarating  to  Jack  and  his 
friend.  Bad  as  was  this  conduct,  it  was  a  very 
humane  study  in  philosophy,  compared  with  the 
experiments  that  have  been  so  much  lauded, 
made  upon  living  animals,  by  the  first  surgeons 
in  Europe. 

The  man  with  the  letter  was  very  civilly  re- 
quested to  take  a  place  at  the  trough ;  which 
politeness  he  declined,  on  the  very  reasonable 
plea  that  there  was  but  barely  room  for  Sir 
John  and  his  companion.  He  then  delivered 
the  letter,  and  received  for  answer,  that  **  he 
was  to  tell  the  deputation,  in  a  pig's  whisper, 
that  they  would  be  received  by  Sir  John  the 


JACK    ASHORE.  193 

first  time  that  it  rained  hard,  and  the  wind  was 
to  the  southward,  at  grog  time  of  day. 

Not  being  able  to  procure  a  more  wholesome 
answer — for,  as  Hamlet  averred  of  himself, 
Jack's  wits  were  just  then  diseased — the  messen- 
ger retired,  not  without  some  horrible  appre- 
hensions of  being  forced  to  swallow  a  great 
portion  of  the  filthy  mess  that  was  intoxicating 
the  swine.  However,  he  escaped  to  tell  his  tale. 
Whereupon  the  meeting  went  again  into  fierce 
debate  upon  when  it  was  likely  that  the  wind 
would  be  to  the  southward  ;  as  to  the  rain,  it 
being  November,  and  they  in  England,  they  had 
but  few  fears  on  that  head.  As  to  grog  time 
of  day,  they  very  wisely  took  that  to  intimate 
just  the  time  that  Sir  John  was  wont  to  sit 
down  to  dinner. 

So  they  broke  up,  and  each  went  his  way, 
vehemently  sighing  for  a  south  wind. 

On  the  very  next  morning,  no  sooner  was 
there  sufficient  light  to  discern  objects,  than  the 
night-capped  heads  of  the  two  lawyers,  of  the 

VOL.    III.  K 


194  JACK   ASHORE. 

publican,  of  the  exciseman,  and  of  almost  every 
memba*  of  the  meeting  of  die  day  before,  were 
thrust  forth  into  the  raw  atmo^here,  with  eyes 
intently  devout  upon  the  weathercock  of  the 
steeple  of  the  church.  The  mad  had  veered 
one  point  towards  the  desired  quarter,  and  each 
of  the  gazers  dressed  himself  with  alacrity,  and 
repaired  to  breakfast  in  so  beneficent  a  humour, 
that  the  coming  of  he  millennium  did  not  seem 
quite  BO  apocryphal  as  usuaL 

Without  meaning  it.  Jack  waaa  great  plague 
to  his  neighbours.  Before  noon  the  wind  had 
got  due  south,  but  it  would  not  rain.  Though 
the  wet  would  not  fall,  the  hopes  of  the  deputa* 
tion  did ;  and  with  their  prospects  of  a  feast  at 
the  hall,  their  good  tempers  disappeared.  Their 
wives  and  their  families  could  not  comprehend 
them  at  all.  They  all  talked  mysteriously 
about  the  wind  and  rain.  The  whole  thirteen 
began  to  be  regarded  by  their  neighbours  with 
queer  suspicions.  They  were  discreet  men,  and 
kept  the  secret,  for  they  did  not  like  to  place 
themselves  under  the  ban  of  ridicule;  for  they 


JACK    ABHOBE.  196 

suspected  that  Jack  was  laughing  at  them  a 
little,  so  they  affected  mystery  and  wisdom,  and 
went  on  raving  about  the  wind  and  rain. 

Indeed,  the  heavens  were  very  unpropitious, 
for  it  set  in  with  a  hard  frost  and  a  north->east 
wind  for  three  days,  and  the  time  fixed  for  the 
ball  was  fast  approaching.  The  peofde  of  the 
place  began  seriously  to  inquire  what  the  cele- 
brated meeting  had  or  had  not  done«  and  when 
they  would  go  up  as  a  deputation*  '*  Tell  me 
how  the  wind  is,  and  I'll  give  you  an  answer," 
was  the  usual  reply.  From  all  these  premises, 
the  burghers  came  to  the  conclusion  that  they 
had  not  entrusted  the  management  of  this  very 
grave  matter  to  any  superfluity  of  wisdom. 
Not  to  have  the  baronet  and  their  landlord  in- 
vited, would  be  almost  as  bad  as  the  loss  of  their 
charter,  which  was  granted  them  by  Richard  I. 
in  a  jargon  of  Norman  French,  dog  Latin,  and 
piebald  Saxon,  that  no  one  could  ever  com- 
prehend,  and  therefore  every  one  put  upon  it 
the  construction  that  best  suited  him. 

k2 


196  JACK    ASHORE. 

At  length  the  frost  gave  way  to  a  gustj 
rainy  -day ;  indeed,  there  was  wind  enough  to 
disperse  the  water,  and  water  enough  to  drown 
the  wind;  and  how  they  contrived  to  exist 
together,  no  one  but  a  very  wise  philo80(dier 
could  telL  There  was  certainly  more  wind  than 
any  of  the  good  citizens  wanted,  but  it  was  not 
from  the  right  quarter.  What  was  to  be  done? 
The  exciseman  cut  the  matter  short. 

The  weathercock  at  the  top  of  the  church 
steeple  told  a  monstrous  elemental  lie.  It  was 
very  shocking  for  an  instrument  so  elevated  to 
be  guilty  of  such  a  barefaced  falsehood,  espe- 
cially when  we  consider  that  the  whole  town 
went  by  the  church ;  but  there  was  a  secret 
influence  so  well  applied,  in  the  shape  of  a  wedge, 
that  if  the  wind  had  howled  forth  in  a  perfect 
hurricane,  that  he  was  Boreas  himself,  the  impu- 
dent weathercock  was  determined  to  announce^ 
coolly  and  fixedly,  in  the  face  of  all  the  world, 
that  his  name  was  Auster,  and  nothing  else. 
This  we  call  consistency,  and  is  a  very  excellent 
quality  both  in  weathercocks  and  politicians; 


JACK    ASHORE.  197 

in  the  latter  the  more  especially  when  they  have 
received  their  wedge. 

.  So,  well  coated,  cloaked,  muffled  up,  and 
with  a  glorious  spread  of  umbrella,  the  ex- 
ciseman called  forth,  in  his  turn,  each  shivering 
member  of  the  deputation  of  thirteen,  gravely 
assuring  them,  upon  the  highest  ecclesiastical 
authority,  that  the  wind  was  due  south,  whilst 
the  northern  blast  was  giving  him  and  them 
the  direct  lie  to  their  faces,  and  in  a  manner  so 
cutting,  that  they  evinced  much  heroism  in 
standing  out  against  it. 

Indeed,  some  of  the  thirteen  demurred  ;  but 
these  scruples  were  speedily  overruled,  when 
they  were  told  that  any  hesitation  in  believing 
the  evidence  of  the  church  would  involve 
them  in  the  guilt  of  heresy.  This  was  dread- 
ful, and  by  all  means  to  be  avoided.  So  the 
doubters  smothered  their  dubitations  in  a  more 
strict  enfolding  of  their  cloaks,  looked  at  the 
steeple,  shivered,  and  walked  on  towards  the 


198  JACK  ASHORE. 

Hall,  firmly  resolved  to  maintain,  against  all 
opponents,  that  the  wind  was  due  South. 

Now  Fortintower  Hall  was  a  large  and  im- 
posing looking  mansion,  with  four  turrets,  one 
at  each  of  its  comers,  with  a  pinnacle  on  each 
turret,  and,  when  Sir  John  took  possessioD  of 
the  Hall,  each  pinnacle  possessed  its  own 
weather-cock.  With  very  few  exceptions,  the 
unanimity  of  these  weather-cocks  was  won- 
derful, and  their  agreement  with  thdr  brother 
on  the  church  steeple  was  admirable.  No 
diversity  of  opinion — no  heterodoxy. 

But  Sir  John  affected  not  these  cocks.  They 
swang  round  heavily,  and  in  gusty  weather 
groaned  and  grated  mournfully — and  to  the 
lightest  breezes  they  were  sometimes  so  uncom- 
plying as  not  to  turn  at  all.  So  Jack  quickly  un- 
shipped  them  all,  and  placed  in  their  stead  four 
dog^vanes.  What  a  dog-vane  is,  I  am  a  dog 
if  I  tell — he  who  is  so  little  instructed  on  that 
point  is  not  worth  instructing.     However,  on 


JACK   ASUOBB.  199 

the  tops  of  the  turrets  there  were  the  dog- 
vanesy  and  merrily  and  friskily  they  veered 
about,  and  would  very  often  box  the  compass 
before  the  old  cock  on  the  top  of  the  church 
steeple  could  get  to  north  and  by  east-half- 
east. 

The  rain  fell  in  torrents  as  the  thirteen 
expectants  of  a  superb  dinner,  and  wines  to 
them  unknown,  plodded  their  plashy  way 
towards  the  HalL  The  two  lawyers  headed 
the  procession,  and  the  rest  of  the  deputation 
huddled  themselves  as  closely  together  as  a 
flock  of  frightened  sheep.  They  passed  the 
lodges  shivering,  and  as  they  did  so,  they 
could  not  avoid  seeing  a  very  ominous  smile  on 
the  countenance  of  the  old  keeper.  This  smile 
provoked  Amos  Ames,  the  astute  exciseman, 
to  hold  up  his  fist  menacingly,  which  had  no 
other  effect  than  changing  the  palpable  grin 
into  a  positive  guffaw. 

*^  You  are  merry,  friend  Thomas,**  said 
Issachar  Chargeit,  the  whig  lawyer. 


200  JACK  ASHORE. 

*^  So  I  he\  sir — and  that's  saying  much  foT 
an  old  man  like  me,  and  this  cruel  north-east 
wind  cutting  me  in  two,  as  'twere." 

*«  Due  south ;  look  at  the  weather-cock,*^  said 
Adolphus  Stilts,  the  tory  practitioner. 

*^  Well,  gentlemen,  I'll  never  gainsay  the 
church,  but  only  look  at  his  worship's  dog- 
vanes — but,  however,  pass  on,  gentlemen." 

^*  Better  go  wrong  by  the  churchy  than  right 
by  any  .other  guide,"  said  the  tory. 

**  That  is  to  say,"  said  the  whig,  **  when  the 
church  is  under  our  guidance. 

^*  Has  Sir  John  dined  P"  asked  three  voices 
simultaneously. 

**  Just  upon  the  finish — make  haste  up^"  said 
the  old  man,  giggling  afresh. 

The  deputation  waited  for  no  more  informa- 
tion,  but,  breaking  the  order  of  their  marshal- 
ling, it  became  a  kind  of  race  who  should  be  the 
first  under  the  ample  portico  of  Fortintower  Hall. 

On  the  arrival  there  of  the  deputation, 
they  found  many  servants  in  the  Hall  ready  to 


JACK    ASHORE.  201 

receive  them,  and  very  pleasant  indeed  every- 
body looked.  This  was  a  most  favourable 
augury,  and  the  mouths  of  the  august  thirteen 
watered  with  savoury  anticipations.  They 
were  very  ceremoniously  ushered  into  a  vast 
and  marble-paved  room,  that  had  not  a  vestige 
of  furaiture.  There  were  neither  seats  on 
which  to  repose,  nor  fires  wherewith  to  warm 
their  shivering  limbs.  In  this  place  they 
were  left  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour  unnoticed, 
and  to  their  dismay  they  found  that  the  ample 
folding-doors  had  been  locked  upon  them. 
They  could  discover  no  bell,  and  the  idea  that 
they  were  prisoners  began  to  prevail  among 
them. 

They  shouted— they  attempted  the  windows 
—  soine  of  them  began  to  feel  stupid  from  the 
effects  of  the  extreme  cold ;  but  when  their 
miseries  had  almost  become  insupportable,  the 
door  opened,  and  Sir  John  himself  suddenly 
appeared,  with  the  blandest  of  smiles  upon  his 
countenance. 

K  5 


S02  JACK    ASHOAE. 

Bat  what  an  appearance!  He  was  dreflsed 
man-of-war  fashion ;  his  jacket  was  none  of  the 
best,  his  hat  was  flat  and  battered,  and  his 
trousers  patched  and  tarry*  But  what  was  the 
most  singular  in  this  appearance  was  a  huge  nap- 
kin, by  no  means  of  the  cleanest,  that  was  pinned 
upon  his  breast.  In  one  hand  he  held  a  large 
silver  spoon,  in  the  other  his  tarpaulin  hat 

Sir  John  made  them  a  low  bow,  and  Tery 
civilly  said,  '^  Gentlemen,  to  what  am  I  in- 
debted for  this  honour  ?* 

Then  boldly  stepped  forth  Issachar  Cbargeit, 
and  said,  "  Sir  John  Truepenny,  you  see 
before  you  thirteen  humble  and  undeserving  in- 
dividuals—'* 

^^  I  understand  that,''  said  Jack,  bowing  to 
the  ground. 

**  Undeserving  individuals  who  compose  a 
deputation  from  the  most  respectable  inhabi- 
tants of  your  borough  town  of  Fortintower, 
that  is  to  say,  the  whig  portion  of  it — ** 

^*The  which  I  positively  deny,''  said  Au- 


JACK    ASHO&B.  203 

gustus  Stilts;  *<the  respectability  of  the  place 
is  comprised  sdely  of  those  professing  very 
opposite  principles.'^ 

**  Slavish  jackanapes  !^  said  Issachar,  con- 
temptuously. 

**  Contemptible  leveller  1"  said  Augustus) 
with  the  true  aristocratic  morgue. 

It  is  very  cold,  gentlemen,^  said  Jack  ; 
will  you  fight  it  out  ?* 

But  Amos  Ames  interposed,  and  said  that 
they  were  the  deputation  which  had  waited 
upon  Sir  John  to  invite  him  to  become  patron 
steward  to  their  annual  subscription  ball,  and 
that  they  had  come  expressly  on  his  invitation. 

With  a  well-feigned  surprise  Sir  John  ex- 
claimed, *^  Bless  me^  my  good  friends,  you 
certainly  must  have  made  a  mistake — I  could 
not  possibly  have  named  to-day.  Had  I  known 
of  your  coming,  I  should  have  been  better 
prepared  to  receive  you.  I  remember  very 
well  receiving  a  message  from  you,  but  how 
did  you  understand  my  answer?' 


204  JACK   ASHOttE. 

'*  You  invited  us  to  come.  Sir  John,  no 
doubt  for  very  wise  and  sufficient  reasons,  the 
first  day  it  rained  and  blowed  hard.'* 

"  I  did,  Mr.  what-d^ye-call-yourself.  My 
reasons  were  excellent.  You  may  know  them 
in  good  time." 

<'We  doubt  it  not,  Sir  John,'*  said  the 
whig  lawyer,  *^  and,  with  sdl  humility,  we  think 
that  it  rains  sufficiently.** 

There  was  an  assenting  shudder  ran  through 
the  deputation. 

**  I  cannot  deny  it,*'  said  Sir  John,  looking 
learnedly  at  the  clouds. 

*^And  as  to  the  wind,**  said  a  lean  tailor 
blowing  on  the  ends  of  his  fingers,  ^  had  it  not 
been  for  my  catching  hold  of  Mr.  Ames*s 
cloak,  I  should  have  been  blown  out  of  your 
worship's  park.** 

^  There  is  a  capful  of  wind — I  confess  to  as 
much,**  said  Jack. 

<^  And  due  south,"  said  all  the  deputation  in 
chorus. 


JACK    ASHORE. 


205 


^^  No,**  said  Jack,  looking  up  at  the  scud. 
*'  O  yes ;  it  is  still  light  enough  to  see  the 
weathercock  on  the  church  steeple— due  south 
— as  I  am  an  honest  exciseman.'" 

"  What  do  my  dog-vanes  say  ? — never  mind  ; 
we  wonH  argufy  the  point,"  continued  Sir 
John  ;  '*  whatever  it  may  be  out  of  doors,  tlie 
wind  is  to  the  southward  here,  in  this  house — 
there  is,  gentlemen,  to-day,  a  southerly  wind 
in  the  bread-bag,  as  we  have  it  afloat.  How- 
ever, I  am  happy  to  see  you  all ;  very  happy — 
you  have  still  rather  unfortunately  chosen 
the  day,  though  you  are  more  lucky  in  the 
time  of  it.     It  is  grog  time  o'  day."^ 

The  deputation  looked  up  cheerfully,   and 
began  to  rub  their  cold  hands  expectingly. 
*^  Have  you  dined,  gentlemen  T^ 
The  thirteen  made  a  full  and  a  true  con- 
fession of  much  fasting. 

**For  myself,  I  have  just  done,"  said  Jack  ; 
'^  but  the  table  is  still  covered— the  dishes  still 
warm.      Let  us  make  haste  before  they  cool. 


\ 


206  JACK    A8H0BR. 

We  will  talk  of  budness  over  our  prog.  Come 
along,  my  hearties.     Hurrah  for  a  rush  !" 

And  a  very  excelleDt  rush  they  made  of  it 
The  servants  had  scarcely  time  to  fling  open 
the  doors  of  a  large  dining  parlour,  before  the 
thirteen  were  standing  round  the  table.  That 
table  and  its  additaments  were  their  astonish- 
ment. 

There  were  five  tureens,  ten  soup-plates  laid 
on  each  side  of  the  tables  a  silver  spoon  to  each 
plate,  and  also  three  hard  sea-biscuits.  When 
the  deputation  entered,  they  found  the  curate 
seated  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table,  with  his 
napkin  duly  placed  under  his  chin,  his  plate 
used  and  dirty,  and  his  spoon  placed  across 
it.  His  eyes  were  twinkling  with  a  strange 
expression,  otherwise  his  demeanour  was  re> 
markably  grave* 

Sir  John  motioned  his  guests  to  their  chairs, 
and  very  decorously  placed  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  table.  A  servant,  in  the  splendid 
Fortintower  livery,  placed  himself  in  attendance 


JACK    ASHOBB.  207 

behind  each  of  the  deputation,  with  his  nap- 
kin in  due  form ;  but  we  blush  to  record  it, 
so  badly  trained  did  they  appear,  that  they 
were  continually  placing  these  napkins  before 
their  own  faces,  and  sometimes  indecorously 
thrusting  them  in  their  mouths. 

When  Jack  and  his  guests  were  duly  seated, 
he  said  to  the  clergyman,  ^^  My  esteemed 
friend^  though  you  and  I  have  victualled  our 
bread-room— that  is  to  say,  dined  ourselves — I 
do  not  think  that  it  would  be  amiss,  seeing  these 
gentlemen  are  about  to  fare  sumptuously,  that 
you  should  ask  a  blessing  upon  the  repast 
Seeing  that  they  are  very  hungry,  and  almost 
froasen  with  cold,  you  may  perhaps  be  brief, 
though  I  would  by  no  means  have  you 
violate  your  sense  of  what  is  correct,  for  the 
sake  of  hastening  the  enjoyments  of  mere 
creature  comforts.  Will  you  have  the  goodness 
to  say  grace  ?** 

Then  up  stood  Mr.  Polygat,  and  with  him 
the    himgry  ones.     Never    before    had    they 


208  JACK    ASHORE. 

heard  a  grace  so  pious,  and  so  full  of  unction — 
so  long,  and  in  which  the  sinful  lusts  of  the 
flesh  were  so  eloquently  inveighed  against 
The  poor  fellows  kept  beating  their  numbed 
feet  against  the  floor,  and  looking  piteousiy 
towards  the  orator.  At  length  it  was  finished, 
and  the  hungry  crew  again  were  permitted  to 
seat  themselves.  At  the  bidding  of  Sir  John, 
the  servants  lifted  the  covers  from  the  five 
tureens,  and  the  deputation  were  told»  with 
much  hospitality,  to  help  themselves. 

Wry  were  the  faces  and  grotesque  the  gri- 
maces of  each  guest,  as  he  conveyed  the  first 
spoonful  of  the  mess  to  his  mouth.  Their 
second  act  was  to  look  upon  their  host  for  an 
explanation,  which  they  received  in  nearly  these 
words : 

^^  Messmates,  you  see  your  dinner.  Lap, 
lap,  and  enjoy  yourselves.  Surely  you  will 
not  disdain  to  fare  as  well  as  your  host — ^your 
landlord.  You  all  know  that,  for  the  greater 
part  of  my  life,  I  have  lived  upon  ship^s  al* 


JACK    ASHORE.  209 

lowance — and  therefore,  lest  my  sudden  change 
of  fortune  and  my  riches  should  make  me 
bouse-up  my  main-stay  too  proudly,  I  keep 
one  day  in  every  month  as  a  banyan-day. 
Gentlemen,  this  is  banyan-day  at  Fortintower 
Hall — ^you  have  pot-luck — eat,  I  say,  and  take 
care  that  you  do  not  offend  me  by  any  ridi- 
culous squeamishness." 

But  what  had  they  to  eat?  Nothing  but 
hard  gray  peas  boiled  in  soft  water, — and  sea- 
biscuit  so  flinty,  that  they  would  equally  well 
have  served  to  pave  the  streets  or  tile  the 
houses  of  the  borough  of  Fortintower. 

*^  Gentlemen,"  continued  Jack,  *'  though  you 
have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  stumble  upon 
banyan^  day,  there  is  no  stint  with  the  grog — call 
for  as  much  as  you  will— it  will  keep  out 
the  cold,  and   materially   assist    your    diges- 


tion." 


They  called  for  it ;  and  it  was  poured  out  to 
them  ready  mixed.  But  the  liquid  was  so 
strong,  and  made  of  rum  so  new,  and  so  rank 


210  JACK    ASHORE. 

in  taste,  that  it  required  all  their  respect  for 
their  host,  and  for  their  own  interest,  to  make 
them  swallow  the  first  glass.  The  second  the  did 
not  find  quite  so  abhorrent,  the  third  was  drunk 
without  complaint,  and  the  fourth  was  actually 
relished. 

"  I  treat  you  as  I  do  myself,**  said  Jack. 
"  Had  you  come  on  any  other  day,  you  would 
have  fared  differently — or  had  you  waited  till 
the  wind  was  southerly  elsewhere  besides  in 
the  bread-bag.  I  am  a  little  whimsical — I 
know  it-^nd  so  I've  made  a  bargain  that 
should,  on  the  day  of  my  monthly  mortification, 
the  wind  be  at  all  to  the  southward  of  eaiit  or 
west,  I  pass  by  the  banyan  day  for  that  month. 
But  you  don't  eat — I  assure  you  that  the  peas, 
though  very  hard,  are  very  wholesome— and 
the  bread,  when  once  chewed,  very  nourishing 
— they  both  come  directly  from  the  victualling 
stores  of  His  Majesty's  Dock  Yard.  The  rum 
is  such  as  is  served  to  the  navy  by  contract, 
and  very  good  it  is — of  the  sort    Grentlemen, 


JACK   ASHORE.  211 

I  see  that  you  are  a  little  at  a  loss  how  to 
break  your  biscuits.  Place  one  in  the  bottom  of 
the  palm  of  your  hand,  and  then  beat  it  against 
your  elbow — ^if  that  won't  do,  the  servant  in 
waiting  upon  you  will  do  the  job  for  you  with 
a  hammer — I  am  too  much  your  friend  not  to 
caution  you  against  using  your  teeth  against 
it.  But  you  do  not  eat*  That  man  who  eats 
most  does  me  most  honour,  and  shall  be  most 
my  friend.  Mr.  Amos  Ames,  you  and  I  shall 
certainly  quarrel  if  you  donH  drink  your  grog 
and  eat  your  pea-soup.  Are  you  a  better  man, 
sir,  than  I — d — ^n  you,  sir,  eat  and  drink,  I  say 
— you  won't— very  well ;  if  you  are  exciseman 
here  a  month  longer,  my  name's  not  Jack — ^and 
you  shall  have  notice  to  quit  your  holding  from  ^ 
my  steward  to-morrow.  Odds  bobbery!  you 
dainty  chopped  rascal — ^let  me  see  who  won't 
eat.  Great  guns  and  grapnels  !  Ain't  I  mas- 
ter ^here,  and  mayn't  I  do  what  I  like  with  my 

own?" 

« 

The  other  twelve  looked  upon  the  thirteenth, 


212  JACK    ASHORE. 

the  despiser  of  pea-soup,  with  astonishment,  and 
regarded  him  as  a  fool  and  a  ruined  man. 
Vigorously  did  they  apply  the  spoon,  and,  in 
order  that  they  might  provoke  an  appetite, 
they  drank  eagerly  and  plentifully  of  the  liquid 
fire.  Amos  Ames,  however,  seemed  much  at 
his  ease,  and  after  he  had  tasted  the  first  spoon- 
ful of  the  peasoup,  and  the  first  sip  of  the  gro^ 
to  use  Jack^s  language,  he  very  coolly  **  lay 
upon  his  oars.** 

We  will  not  say  that  these  boiled  peas  were 
quite  so  distasteful,  and  they  certainly  were 
not  so  hard,  as  were  those  immortal  parched 
ones  that  the  jolly  friar  offered  to  Richard  the 
First,  so  pleasantly  recorded  in  the  exciting 
story  of  Ivanhoe — but  the  biscuit  was  harder, 
and  remained  nearly  untouched*  Half  terrified, 
and  already  half  drunk,  the  deputation,  with 
the  exception  of  the  excisemen,  ate  on  madly, 
with  a  desperation  that  was  very  whimsical. 
The  two  lawyers  vied  with  each  other  in  the 
ardour   of    their  zeal,    and    at  length  began 


JACK   ASIiOBE.  213 

to  chant    the   praises    of   the  swine-befitting 
mess. 

Sir  John  rose  from  the  table,  and  whisper- 
ing something  into  the  ear  of  each  guest,  about 
an  abatement  of  rent,  a  renewal  of  a  lease,  or 
something  of  the  sort ;  he  urged  them  all  on 
till  they  were  completely  swilled,  and  they 
could  positively  eat  no  more.  When  the  rogue 
had  fully  ascertained  this,  he  resumed  his  place 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  looked  for  the 
clergyman  to  say  grace;  but  he,  disgusted  with 
the  scene,  had  previously  stolen  away,  so  the 
office  was  not  desecrated  in  his  person.  The 
exciseman  volunteered  to  officiate  in  his  stead, 
and  begged  that  they  might  be  made  than)cful 
for  what  they  were  goitig  to  receive: — a  mis- 
take that  was  not  remarked  by  the  besotted 
guests. 

**'  Now,  gentlemen,'^  said  Jack,  in  a  tip-top 
voice,  ^*  Banyan  day  is  over — let  us  all  go  to 
my  lady,  and  arrange  about  the  ball/' 

Preceded  and  attended  by  a  host  of  servants, 


214  JACK  'ASHO&£. 

the  puty  wtMggaed  into  the  MoUe  a  tmangery 
where  they  found  Lady  Truepenny,  Colond 
Chacfheirs  intimate  firiend^  Captain  Nitragas, 
and  three  gentlemen  of  fortune  with  their  ladies, 
waiting  the  removal  of  the  covers  from  a  most 
splendid  dinner.  The  sideboard  displayed 
preparations  equaUy  appedxing.  The  deputa- 
tion were  introduced  to  Lady  Truepenny  in 
form,  and  she,  having  graciously  received 
them,  invited  them  to  stay  dinner. 

They,  with  the  exception  of  the  exciseman, 
who  was  all  through  in  the  secret,  and  Jack's 

« 

coadjutor,  had  merely  the  power  to  attempt  to 
seat  themselves,  when  Sir  John,  seeing  their 
lost  state,  with  a  malicious  grin  told  them  to 
mind  for  the  future  how  the  wind  blew;  he 
then  consigned  them  to  the  care  (^Groggy  Fox- 
bead,  and  bidding  him  to  finish  them  up  with 
grog,  and  then  put  them  in  a  covered  cart,  and 
leave  them  at  their  respective  homes,  to  the 
tender  mercies  €i  their  wives  and  die  jeers  of 
their  neighbours. 


JACK    ASHOBK.  215 

The  exciseman  would  also  have  withdrawn, 
but  Sir  John  finding  that  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany made  no  objection,  he  was  honoured  with 
a  place  at  the  tabie»  and  the  evening  terminated 
with  the  usual  riotous  mirth. 


216  JACK    ASUORK. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Preparations  for  a  ball,  and  some  reflections  thereapoo— -Pro- 
viding for  fun — The  proriders  at  fault — Jack  and  the  linen- 
draper — Tbej  take  tbeii  measures  together^— The  piece  does 
not  run  abort. 

The  sated  with  gray  peas,  and  the  keepers  of 
banyan  days,  had  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  the 
whole  town,  and  very  assiduously  and  coarsely 
jeered  they  were.  There  were  other  mortifica- 
tions and  inconveniences  attending  on  this 
piso  banquet,  to  which  it  will  be  more  than 
sufficient  barely  to  allude.  However,  the  de- 
putation gained  their  point  as  well  as  their 
pea-soup,  and  Sir  John  Truepenny  was  an- 
nounced as  the  steward  and  the  patron  of  the 


JACK    ASHORE.  217 

forthcoming  hall,  with  the  donation  of  fifty 
pounds,  for  the  express  purpose  of  procuring 
wine  to  the  attendant  supper. 

The  pains  and  pleasures  of  preparation,  for 
a  f(6te  of  this  description  in  a  provincial  town, 
among  the  fair,  have  been  so  often  and  so 
pleasantly  described,  that  we  have  no  induce- 
ment to  tread  upon  the  well-beaten  path. 
These  ambitious  aspirations  after  dress  are  no 
more  ridiculous,  in  themselves,  in  a  remote 
borough,  than  are  the  like  contentions  of  supe- 
riority among  the  frequenters  of  Almack's. 
They  are  ridiculous  only  in  comparison — and 
between  the  usual  attendants  upon  a  rural  ball 
and  a  metropolitan  assembly  room,  the  philo- 
sophic mind  would  find  it  difficult  to  award  the 
preference. 

Let  us  take  two  specimens  of  each  of  the 
dowagers,  the  matron  and  the  maiden,  in  the 
two  respective  walks  of  life — a  bad  one  and  a 
good  one ;  let  us  compare  them,  and  after  we 

VOL.  III.  L 


218  TACK    ASHORE. 

have  done  it  as  fairly  as  we  can,  we  will  leave 
the  reader  to  pass  judgment. 

The  good  dowager  of  fashionable  life  is  a 
quiet,  contented  looking  person,  whose  eyes 
dance  and  keep  tune  with  the  feet  of  the 
younger  persons ;  she  may  beat  the  time  gently 
with  her  fan,  and  has  a  kind  word  and  a  com- 
placent smile  for  every  one.  She  is  richly  and 
welly  but  npt  showily  dressed  ;  and  if  there  be 
any  excess  about  her,  it  is  in  the  intrinsic  value 
of  her  jewellery.  People,  without  appearing 
ostentatiously  to  seek,  pay  court  to  her ;  and 
she  is  always  ready  to  reassure  the  timid,  and 
remove  the  embarrassment  of  the  younger  por- 
tion of  her  own  sex. 

In  the  country.!  the  good  dowager  will  be 
much  of  what  we  have  described ;  but  if  she  be 
a  little  more  bustling  and  talkative^  it  is  amply 
compensated  by  her  benevolence^  and  evident 
warm-heartedness.  Her  manners  will  neither  be 
so  soft,  so  refined,   nor  so  dignified,  but  there 


JACK    ABMOEB.  t219 

will  be  about  tbem  an  undoubted  cordiality,  and 
an  eagerness  topromote  the  general  pleasure,  that 
may  be  fairly  taken  as  an  equivalent.  She  will 
neither  be  so  richly  nor  fashionably  dressed  as  is 
her  counterpart ;  but  she  will  never  be  over- 
dressed ;  and  though  not  attired  in  the  reigning 
mode,  she  will  at  once  be  antiquely,  and  consis- 
tently and  becomingly  attired. 

The  bad  specimen  of  the  dowager  class  of 
fashion  is  what?  We  are  almost  afraid  to 
portray  her  —  we  will  not  —  we  respect  the 
withered  and  cankered  leaf,  because  it  belongs 
to  the  rose  tree.  But  it  will  be  said^  ^*  Imagine 
her  to  be  as  bad  as  you  will,  to  all  this  you 
may  add,  for  the  country  dowager^  vulgarity  !*' 
True,  but  then  which  is  the  worse,  the  vulgarity 
of  a  licentious  age  and  of  refined  depravity,  or 
that  of  arrogant  and  coarse  rusticity  ?  The 
blow  from  the  jagged  scythe  may  be  heavier 
and  more  violently  given  than  the  stab  from 
the  polished  and  envenomed  poniard.  We 
will  not  give  a  preference  to  either. 

L  2 


220  JACK    ASHORE. 

The  matrons  of  the  town  and  the  country — 
alas !  the  age  knows  of  none,  in  the  stem  and 
Roman  acceptation  of  the  term.  We  have 
married  ladies,  elegant,  beautiful,  and  good — 
but  no  matrons.  As  we  proceed,  we  grow 
weary  of  the  comparison.  We  will  dismiss  the 
subject  at  once  by  saying,  that  it  is  one  almost 
impossible  to  pronounce  upon.  Each  station 
has  its  vulgarities,  but  so  identical  are  they  in 
realities,  that  they  are  equally  vulgar  in  all  that 
is  bad ;  yet  so  distinct  in  mere  accidents  and 
extrinsics,  that  the  refinement  of  the  rural  would 
be  the  vulgarity  of  the  courtly  circles. 

But  whatever  of  refinement  or  of  vulgarity 
the  Fortintoweronians  possessed,  they  were 
all  assiduously  employed  in  the  means  of  show- 
ing it  off  to  the  best  advantage.  When  the 
fifty  pound  gift  was  known,  many  who  had 
been  before  startled  at  the  expense  of  the  half- 
guinea,  now  proceeded  eagerly  to  secure 
tickets. 

Sir  Edward  Fortintower  had  always  petted 


JACK    ASHORE.  221 

this  annual  ball ;  though  it  was  now  remem- 
bered, that  instead  of  bestowing  fifty  guineas 
upon  it,  neither  he,  nor  the  friends  that  might 
happen  to  be  staying  with  him,  ever  paid  for 
their  tickets ;  but  the  townsfolk  had  more  than 
their  money  value  in  the  honour  conferred  upon 
them.  And  then,  Sir  Edward  so  well  acted  the 
part  of  patron.  All  the  old  ladies  called  him 
a  blessed  angel  upon  ^rth.  He  was  all  things 
to  all  men,  and  almost  everything  to  the  women* 
Jack  knew  this,  and  dreaded  the  comparison. 
He  was  very  anxious  to  ascertain  exactly  who 
would  be  there. 

Two  days  before  the  affair  was  to  take  place, 
he  was  very  much  relieved  to  find  that  neither 
the  Earl  of  Loftiput,  nor  any  of  his  family, 
would  honour  the  room  with  their  presence. 
A  deputation  consisting  of  most  of  the  pean- 
eating  members  had  waited  upon  them,  but 
they  gained  nothing  by  this  step  but  a  cour- 
teous dismissal,  and  a  polite  refusal.  It  was 
Jack's    fifty  pounds    that    closed    the    doors 


222  JACK  ASHOEE. 

against  them,  and  caused  the  old  noUeman  to 
endanger  his  influence  and  bis  popularity  in  the 
place. 

Now  the  reader  must  have  perceived  long 
before  this,  that  poor  Jack  wa^  a  lost  poor  Jack 
— that  his  head  had  cast  the  wrong  way,  and 
that  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  could  save  him 
from  total  wreck.  That  he  was  already  one 
third  worse  than  eccentric,  was  now  generally 
known;  yet  most  of  his  vagaries  had  so  much  of 
drollery  in  them,  were  so  good-naturedly  worked 
out,  or,  if  they  involved  injury  to  any  one,  so 
generously  compensated  for,  that  he  was  qoite 
popular ;  and  no  one  ever  complained  of  him, 
but  those  actually  under  his  pleasant  persecu* 
tions. 

All  these  things  made  the  denizens  of  Fortin- 
tower  not  only  expect,  but  also  to  wish,  that  Sir 
Jolin  would  signalise  the  ensuing  ball  with  some- 
thing very  funny.  The  same  idea  was  actively 
occupying  Sir  John's  thoughts,  and  those  of  his 
not   too  worthy   coadjutor,  Groggy   Foxhead. 


JACK    ASHORE.  223 

But  nothing  that  was  not  too  stale  or  too  gross 
occurred  to  either  of  them.  Jack  felt  that  a  mere 
riot  or  open  rudeness  to  tlie  party  would  dis- 
grace himself.  To  all  his  low  friend^s  sugges- 
tions of  turning  pigs  into  the  room,  of  letting 
loose  among  the  ladies  a  dancing  bear,  extin- 
guishing the  lights  by  candle  crackers,  or  of 
introducing  a  body  of  sweeps  down  the  chim- 
ney, the  baronet  gave  more  than  a  negative; 
he  betrayed  displeasure. 

"  Your  blocks  want  greasing,  stupid  !  There's 
no  gumption  in  you — you  go  off  worse  than  a 
damp  blank  cartridge ;  besides  all  this,  you  grow 
confoundedly  low.  I  think  I  shall  go  to  the 
shindy  as  grand  as  a  lord,  and  come  it  strong,'^ 
said  Sir  John  mournfully. 

"  Well,  Sir  John — fun's  fun — and  I  can't 
see  no  difference  so  long  as  yer  happy.  I  could 
lead  an  ass  into  the  room,  dressed  out  in  a  mob 
cap,  *zactly  the  very  spit  of  Mrs,  Stilto's." 

^*  You  and  your  mob  cap  are  fit  only  for  one 
of  your  own  vulgar  mobs.     I  must  send  you  up 


224  JACK   ASHORK. 

to  your  back  dums  again.  Do  you  think  if 
you  got  crying  drunk,  it  would  mend  your  in. 
vention  ?** 

**  Don't  know,  Sir  John,  but  it  might  Shall 
I  ring  for  the  needful?^ 

"  Well — but  it's  only  eleven  6*clock — never 
mind,  ring.** 

**  And  pipes  ?" 

«  Why  not  ?" 

So  the  grog  and  the  pipes  were  produced, 
and  before  much  business  was  done  with  them, 
it  was  announced  to  Sir  John  that  one  Mr. 
Simpkins,  the  fourth-rate  linen-draper  of  the 
place,  claimed  an  audience.  Sir  John  was  ac- 
cessible at  all  times,  and  as  the  presence  of 
the  linen-draper  promised  amusement,  it  was 
ordered  that  he  should  be  admitted  immedi- 
ately. 

People  much  conversant  with  physiognomy, 
and  studious  of  the  human  countenance,  will  be 
ready  to  testify  that  likenesses  of  William  Pitt, 
the  heaven-bom  minister,  have  been,  and  per- 


JACK    ASHORE.  225 

haps  still  are,  more  common  than  those  of  any 
other  individuaL  Indeed,  we  do  not  know  of 
any  social  circle,  of  any  tolerable  circumference, 
that  has  not  one  of  these  similitudes  among 
them.  Our  own  circle  is  not  very  vast,  and  it 
possesses  two.  The  borough  of  Fortintower 
had  one,  and  a  very  striking  one  indeed,  in  the 
person  of  this  same  linen-draper,  Mr.  Simpkin. 
That  he  possessed  any  of  the  vast  talents  of 
**  the  pilot  that  weathered  the  storm,"  we  de- 
cline to  pronounce ;  but  that  he  was  not  wholly 
without  financial  abilities,  may  be  inferred  from 
the  fact  that  he  had  been  thrice  bankrupt,  and 
became  more  thriving  after  each  failure. 

The  man  of  the  yard  measure  made  his 
entrei  and  his  bow,  and  it  was  very  evident 
that  he  was  brimful  of  indignation. 

"  What  can  we  do  for  you  now,  Billy  Pitt  ? — 
come—sit  ye  there,  man,  and  whet  your  whistle 
— ^you  have  a  right  to  a  place  at  any  table  in 
the  county,  for  the  sake  of  your  figure-head.** 

**  I  wish.  Sir  John,  that  it  was  thought  so. 

L  5 


226  JACIC    A8U0KK. 

But  it  is  not  every  one  that  has  your  worahip^s 
penetration.  I  have  come  to  make  a  complaint 
to  your  honour,  as  steward  and  patix>n  of  the 
ensiling  subscription  ball — I  throw  myself  on 
your  mercy." 

^^  That  is  well  said  for  a  man-mercer.  Now 
what  can  my  mercy  do  for  you  ?  You  know 
that  I  leave  all  about  the  flannel s  and  flounces  to 
her  ladyship  and  the  housekeeper.  But  really 
I  have  a  kindly  feeling  for  yoUf  for  you  take 
your  grog  manfully .'' 

^^  Ah,  Sir  John,  they  have  refused  me  a 
ticket  for  the  ball.'' 

"  You  I" 

*'  Me,  me,  me  !*' 

"  Utterly  impossible ! — ^you,  with  the  only 
sensible  face  in  the  town — ^you,  who  so  well 
represent  the  great  representative  of  the  nation's 
prosperity  I  Why,  Mr.  Simpkin,  the  ball  can 
no  more  do  without  you^  than  the  government 
without  noseyfied  Pitt." 

**  But  all  the    committee   think    otherwise. 


JACK  ABHORS.  227 

There's  Ames,  and  Blowfittle,  and  the  t\n) 
thieves  of  lawyers,  all  object  to  me,  on  account 
of  want  of  respectability — ^the  first  time  these 
twenty  years.  —  What  wUl  Mrs.  Simpkin 
say!" 

**  Ah,  what  indeed  !**  and  Jack  looked  all 
sympathy. 

**  And  there  are  the  young  Messieurs  Simp- 
kin,  and  the  three  young  ladies.  What  a  dis- 
grace to  them !" 

"  Ah,  my  good  Pitt,  I  have  all  a  father's 
feelingR  on  the  subject.'' 

**  You  can't.  Sir  John,''  chimed  in  Foxhead 
— **  ain't  been  long  enough  on  the  estate." 

*  Come,  belay  there — I  may  be  a  stepfather 
to  them  yet." 

*^  It  is  no  more  than  we  expect  of  you.  Sir 
John.     In  your  excellent  kinsman's  time,  Sir* 
Edward  Fortintower,  Mrs.  Simpkin  was  much 
flattered  with  his  notice."" 

«  No  doubt  on't.     A  sly  dog,  that  Ned." 

**  And  if  he  were  here,  be  would  not  suffer 


228  JACK  ASHOEE. 

this— he  was  a  great  friend  to  our  family.  Sir 
John,"" 

*^  Well,  well — ^but,  between  you  and  me  and 
the  grog  bottle,  what  is  the  reason  that  you 
are  now  excepted  against  ?  Come,  plain  sail- 
ing. To  make  a  friend  of  me,  there  must  be 
no  yawing  in  your  steerage.  Out  with  it,  man. 
Why,  simple  body  that  you  be !  don't  you 
think  that  I  shall  have  it  from  some  one  else, 
and  with  a  few  strokes  of  the  tar-brush  into  the 
bargain?" 

"  And  that  is  very  true.  You  understand. 
Sir  John,  that  this  long  and  disastrous  war 
must  necessarily  cause  great  fluctuations  in 
business ;  the  best  calculators  may  be  thrown 
out.  They  object  to  me  and  my  amiable  fa- 
mily, merely  because  my  certificate  is  not  yet 
'signed  for  my  last  bankruptcy.'' 

"  Your  last — how  many  have  you  had  ?^ 

"  This  is  only  my  third  Very  few  of  the 
tradesmen  of  this  place  but  have  had  some 
misfortunes  of  the  kind.  How  else  could  the 
place  support  two  lawyers  ?'' 


JACK    ASHOBE.  S29 

**  Then,  Mr.  Simpkin,  you  are  what  is 
called  an  uncertificated  bankrupt.  You  see 
I  am  down  to  the  bearings  of  a  thing  or  twa** 

^*  An  honest  one,^  said  the  linen-draper, 
deprecatingly. 

<*  Then,  as  your  landlord,  111  see  you  righted. 
When  do  the  committee  meet  ?" 

"  They  are  sitting  now.** 

"  Well,''  said  Sir  John,  "  stay  here  and 
fuddle  yourself  with  Foxhead.  PU  go  and  see 
what  can  be  done  for  you — so  stay  till  I  return.'^ 
And  off  Jack  set,  and  was  soon  in  the  midst  of 
the  committee. 

He  inquired  of  these  dispensers  of  the  fashion 
of  the  place  the  reasons  of  their  refusing  Simp- 
kin  his  ticket.  The  reply  was,  that  they  could 
not  now  associate  with  him ;  they  must  draw  the 
line  somewhere ;  though  his  shop  was  still  open, 
he  had  not  satisfied  everybody,  be  &c.,  for  male- 
volence is  ingenious  in  picking  up  sticks  to  fling 
at  the  unfortunate. 


230  JACK    ABHORS* 

*^  But  does  diis  apply  to  his  wife,  sans,  and 
daughters  P  They  are  wot  uncertificated 
bankrupts,  and  they  were  always  admitted 
in  the  time  of  Sir  Edward  Fortintower.'^ 

They  could  give  no  better  answ^  to  this^ 
than  that,  considering  the  cloud  under  which 
the  linen-draper  stood,  it  would  become  them 
better  to  stay  at  home;  inasmuch,  if  a  man 
could  not  pay  his  creditors^  he  ought  not  to 
afibrd  to  buy  ball^tickets  for  his  family. 

This  latter  objection  Sir  John  obviated  by 
paying  for  the  six  tickets  himself  for  the  family, 
and  putting  them  in  his  pocket,  though  without 
saying  for  whom  they  were  intended  ;  but  he 
seemed  to  aisquiesce  in  the  propriety  of  ex- 
cluding the  bankrupt  However,  upon  inquiry, 
he  satisfied  himself  that  the  man  was  no  worse 
than  most  of  those  who  would  be  present,  and  he 
discovered  that,  among  the  numbers  expected, 
the  tripe-venders  and  three  of  die  bakers  of 
the  place  would  be  comprised* 


JACK   ASHOKS.  381 

Id  lefls  than  an  hour  Jack  bad  returned,  and 
found  that,  during  his  absence,  the  linen-draper 
and  the  privy  councillor,  Foxhead,  had  made 
considerable  progress  towards  happiness. 

**  Well,"  said  Sir  John,  *«  I  have  not  been 
able  to  make  the  committee  change  their  deter- 
mination as  regards  yourself.  They  all  stand 
upon  their  respectability.^ 

"  Then,''  said  Mr.  Simpkin,  very  viciously, 
^*  they  are  like  rope-dancers,  and  can  stand  upon 
very  little." 

^*  Upon  as  much  as  some  of  them  will  one  day 
dance  upon — and  that's  nothing.  But,  to  make 
up  lor  the  disappointment  to  yourself,  there  are 
three  double  tickets,  which  will  admit  Mrs. 
Simpkin,  the  three  young  ladies,  and  the  two 
young  gentlemen.^' 

'*  You  are  truly  good  and  generous.  lu 
their  happiness  I  will  forget  my  own  morti- 
fication." And  the  mercer  placed  his  hand 
upon  his  heart,  and  looked  as  sentimental  as 
Werter.  At  that  moment  he  made  the  glorious 
resolve  that  his  shop  should  groan  for  it,  or  his 


232  JACK   ASHORE. 

family  should  outshine  the  most  luminous  of 
the  Fortintower  luminaries. 

**  Pass  the  jug,  and  listen  to  me,  Simpkin,'^ 
said  Jack,  ^^  and  it  will  be  your  fault  if  you  are 
not  the  most  honoured  and  most  flattered  guest 
at  this  same  dance.** 

**  1  am  all  attention — I  am  devotedly  yours.** 

**  ni  tell  you  what  it  is:  may  be  Fm  a 
rough  spun-yam,  yet  I  don't  like  mutiny  in  my 
ship,  and  won't  allow  any  squabbling  among  my 
tenants.  As  far  as  I  can  see,  you  are  all  of  you 
much  of  a  muchness,  and  I  won't  suffer  any  of 
you  to  give  themselves  airs  at  the  expense  of 
others.  Now,  that  jackanapes-formed  committee 
of  management — ^bless  the  long  name ! — stick 
themselves  up  as  being  very  knowing  upon  real 
gentility,  and  not  a  son  of  a  gun  of  them  ever 
served  on  board  of  a  man^f-war.  There's 
impudence  for  you !  I  dare  to  say  that,  in 
private,  theyVe  the  audacity  to  say  that  I'm  no 
gentleman  myself." 

<'They   do,    indeed,    Sir   John,"   said    the 
mercer. 


JACK    A8HO&X.  233 

**  Thought  as  much.  Proves  their  ignorance. 
Now,  mark  me,  Mr.  Skinflint,  obey  orders,  and 
for  one  night  you  shall  be  almost  the  greatest 
man  in  the  three  kingdoms^  barring  his  Majesty 
and  myself/' 

'*  On  course,"  said  Mr.  Simpkin,  with  a  low 
bow. 

^*  Now  you  are  a  sharp-built,  ^cute  fellow ,  or 
your  face  is  the  greatest  liar  on  earth ;  and  if 
you  can't  act  a  part,  I  was  never  more  deceived 
in  my  life.'' 

**  You  are  not  deceived.  Sir  John,  I  can  act 
a  part" 

**  Foxhead,  just  make  yourself  scarce, 
and  tell  James  to  bring  me  the  portfolio  of 
engravings  you  will  find  behind  the  sofa,  in  the 
crimson  drawing-room,  and  donH  show  yourself 
till  your  watch  is  called.'' 

The  portfolio  was  brought ;  and  when  Jack 
and  the  tradesman  were  by  themselves,  the 
former   produced  a  full-length    coloured   en- 


984  JACK   ASHOES. 

graving,  at  that  tinie  very  popular  of  the  im- 
mortal minister,  in  courrt  coMkme. 

«<  You  see  this,"  said  Jack.  "  Now  attend 
to  orders.  Give  out  that  you  are  forced  to  go 
to  the  North  on  business ;  and  do  this  in  sudi  a 
manner  that  your  fellow-townsmen  may  suppose 
that  your  absence  is  an  excuse  to  hide  your 
vexation.*^ 

I  understand  you  fully/' 

Let  your  family  punctually  attend  this 
hop.     I'll  take  care  of  them." 

I  am  very  grateful  to  you,  Sir  Jobn**^ 

And  so  you  ought,  when  you  know  alL 
Post  up  quickly  to  town ;  get  yourself  rigged 
out,  stock  and  fluke,  like  this  engraving.  Omit 
no  particular.  I  shidi  stand  all  the  expense. 
I'll  give  you  a  line  to  my  banker's.  Go  to  the 
first  hairdresser's,  and  get  your  nob  worked  up 
in  the  fashion  of  the  picture— don't  omit  a  single 
curl.  You  have  three  days  dear  to  do  all  this. 
On  the  feuTth,  the  day  of  the^  ball,  get  you  a 


tt 


C( 


JACK   ASHOEt.  236 

chaise  and  four,  with  two  outriders;  four 
hours  will  bring  yon  down  well.  Shortly  after 
the  ball  has  commenced,  draw  up  here,  put  on 
very  important  airs,  and  inquire  for  me.  Of 
course,  I  shall  be  at  the  assembly.  You  follow 
me  there,  and  see  the  result.  By  jingo,  but  we 
will  have  fun  P 

**  Very  excellent.  Sir  John — beautiful !  Am 
I  to  call  myself  William  Pitt?  Won't  it  be 
high  treason  ?" 

«  Call  yourself  William  Pitt  ?  No !  If 
others  wonH  do  so,  you  are  not  fit  for  the 
spree.  You  are  to  act  the  mysterious.  Talk 
of  raising  regiments— invasion — ^get  up  com- 
missions—be all  ambiguity — turn  all  their  heads 
— make  fools  of  them — and  we'll  finish  with  a 
grand  scene." 

a  \Yg  ^in  I  Glorious !  triumphant !  You've 
the  head.  Sir  John."' 

"  Well,  keep  the  secret.  There's  the  letter 
to  my  banker's.     Get  home  to  your  wife — take 


236  JACK   ASHORB. 

leave.    You're  going  North,  you  know  !    Walk 
to  the  next  town,  and  away  for  London/' 

The  linen-draper  hurried  away,  and  left  Jack 
a  gleeful  man. 


JACK   asu6bb.  2S7 


CHAPTER  XII. 


The  ball<— £Terything  in  apple-pie  order— A  graod  arrival— 
The  people  stumble  into  the  pit  Jack  bad  dug  for  them — 
All  the  world  turned  courtiers— The  followers  of  the  fox  at 
fault— After-dinner  speeches— Consternation,  explanation/ 
and  termination. 


The  all-important  night  arrived,  and  a 
most  brilliant  assembly  crowded  the  spacious 

rooms  at  the  Fortintower  Arms.  Gorgeous  in 
their  volunteer  and  yeomanry  uniform,  farmers 
succeeded  tradesmen,  and  tradesmen  farmers; 
but,  glorious  as  were  these,  yet,  in  all  their 
glory,  they  equalled  not  the  many-tinted  bril- 
liancy displayed  by  their  wives  and  daughters. 


2S8  JACK    ASHORE* 

The  neighbouring  squires  and  the  professional 
men,  from  a  circumference  of  twenty  miles,  were 
there  also,  to  look  down  upon  the  shopocracy, 
patronise,  and  play  off  their  superiority  aud  con- 
tempt in  a  thousand  mean  and  invidious  way& 

Sir  John,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Singleheart, 
had  been  there  very  early.  Being  one  of  the 
stewards,  our  herodid  not  think  it  beneath  him  to 
superintend  the  arrangements,  and  provide  for 
the  accommodation  of  people  invited  in  his 
name.  He  was  simply  and  neatly  dressed  as 
a  private  gentleman,  and  was  neither  drunk  nor 
perfumed  with  tobacco.  He  was  so  considerate, 
so  kind  to  all,  and  so  anxious  to  place  every 
one  at  their  ease,  that  people  wondered  if  this 
urbane  personage  could  possibly  be  the  rollick- 
ing«  drunken,  prosperity-spoiled  seaman,  the 
man  of  coarse  manners,  and  of  practical  jokes. 

Whea  the  rooms  began  to  be  crowded,  Lady 
Truepenny,  attended  by  Captain  Nitregas,  a 
particular  friend  of  the  wounded  and  bed-ridden 
colonel,  entered  the  room.     She  appeared  very 


JACK    A8HOBS.  280 

beautiful,  and  swam  up  the  room  leaning  ap» 
provingly  and  smilingly  upon  the  captain^s 
arm,  which  captain  the  ladies  had  dubbed  a 
very  pretty  fellow,  and  be  thought  himself 
something  more.  Lady  Truepenny  had  re- 
solved to  show  Jack  some  of  hen  baughtinessi  and 
intended  to  play  off  her  superiority  to  her  lord 
and  master  by  the  means  of  the  handsome  sol* 
dier.  But  she  was  utterly  surprised  when  she 
observed  her  despised  husbandi  come  and  re- 
ceive her  with  all  tbe  grace  of  a  gentleman,  yet 
with  the  distant  courtesy  of  a  highly-bred 
stranger.  Sober  and  well-dressed  as  he  then 
was,  he  appeared  to  be,  by  far,  the  most  splendid 
man  in  the  room. 

Captain  Nitregas  '*  paled  his  ineffectual  fire" 
near  him,  and  dwindled  into  insignificance. 
Strange  compunctious  visitings  made  the  lady 
tremble.  She  left  her  cavalier  abruptly,  and 
placing  her  arm  affectionately  within  that  of 
her  husband,  and  drawing  it  to  her  side,  whis- 


S40  JACK    ASHORE. 

whispered  in  his  ear,  *'  Dear  Johii»  were  you 
but  always  thus  I" 

But  the  idndly  overture  was  ill-timed.  Jack 
neither  replied  to  the  action  nor  to  the  words, 
but  leading  her  respectfully  to  a  seat  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  room,  he  made  her  a  low  bow, 
and  went  and  busied  himself  with  doing  the 
agreeable  to  the  rest  of  the  company. 

And  that  night  Jack  won  aU  hearts  but  the 
one  that  ought  to  have  been  the  dearest  to  him^ 
and  the  return  of  whose  affection  he  had  so 
carelessly  slighted.  Sir  Edward  F(Htintower 
was  no  longer  missed.  There  was  a  warm- 
heartedness in  his  affability  that  convinced 
every  one  his  was  the  politeness  of  the  soul,  not 
of  the  manner.  Men  looked  upon  him  and 
wondered,  women  gazed  and  admired.  The 
deputation  of -thirteen  would  have  hesitated  to 
have  sworn  to  the  identity  of  the  urbane  and 
attentive  patron  of  the  country  ball,  with  the 
half-tipsy  wag  who  had  intimidated  them  into 


JACK   ASHORE.  241 

intoxication,   and  bullied  them  into  a  beasty 
repletion  on  boiled  hog-peas. 

Our  dear  Jack  glided  from  party  to  party, 
with  a  kind  word  or  a  pleasant  speech  for  all ; 
gay  with  the  bold,  laughing  with  the  jocular, 
assuring  the  timid,  and  making  a  gracious 
equality  the  universal  sentiment,  not  by  osten- 
tatiously lowering  himself  to  the  low  and 
humble,  but  by  elevating  them  into  social  hap- 
piness, and  by  making  each  person  that  did  his 
best  to  please  sensible  that  if,  for  that  night, 
he  or  she  would  confess  none  beneath,  they 
should  not  be  made  to  feel  that  there  were  any 
above  them. 

Of  a  truth,  there  was  much  that  was  ridi- 
culous, much  of  vulgarity,  and  much  that  was 
grotesque  in  that  promiscuous  assembly.  The 
men  were,  many  of  them,  awkward,  silly,  rain ; 
the  women  tawdriJy  dressed,  heated,  fussy,  and 
palpably  greedy  of  admiration.  But  in  what 
meeting  will  you  not  find  all  this,  under  local 
modifications  ? 

VOL.    III.  M 


242  JACK  ASHOBE. 

In  one  point,  the  ball  was  very  fashionable ; 
it  was  too  crowded  for  general  dancing.  With 
much  difficulty,  a  small  circle  was  excavated 
in  the  centre  of  the  principal  room,  in  which 
the  minuet  of  the  good  old  times  was  attempted. 
But  we  have  to  do  with  the  history  of  this  ball, 
only  so  far  as  our  hero  was  concerned. 

Now,  the  managing  committee— the  deputa- 
tion of  thirteen— the  three  linendrapers,  more 
achalandes  than  Mr.  Simpkin,  aU  three  tidy 
folks,  who  held  their  business  as  more  refined 
than  that  of  a  man-mercer*s — all  those  who  had 
never  been  bankrupt,  and  they  were  an  exclu- 
sive few — all  those  who  had  been  but  once 
bankrupt — all  those  who  had  been  bankrupt 
but  twice — all  those  who  had  been  bankrupt 
three  times,  but  had  gained  their  certificates — 
all  these  rejoiced  mightily  that  the  stewards  had 
vindicated  the  respectability  of  the  assembly,  by 
closing  its  doors  against  Mr.  Simpkin.  They 
were  glad  with  each  other  upon  it. 

The  two  lawyers  were  mutually  oomplimen- 


JACK   ABHORB.  243 

tary  on  the  occasion ;  the  head  butcher  of  the 
town  congratulated  the  head  cheesemonger; 
the  town  council  took  praise  to  themselves; 
the  collector  of  the  king^s  taxes  breathed  more 
freely ;  the  air  was  not  contaminated  by  being 
breathed  by  a  paltry  bankrupt  shopkeeper. 
They  were  so  select  I 

We  say  it  with  the  utmost  depression  of 
sorrow,  that  in  these  pharisaical  sentiments  the 
ladies  more  than  participated.  But,  bless  their 
gentle  souls  I  it  was  expressed  in  pity.  They 
deeply,  very  deeply  commiserated  poor  Mrs. 
Simpkin.  To  be  sure,  she  had  held  up  her 
head  a  little  too  proudly — and  the  three  young 
ladies — ^but  it  was  a  mercy  to  them — they  sup- 
posed that  they  would  go  to  service ;  but  the 
lesson  was  salutary  —  they  never  could  show 
themselves  after  this. 

After  the  finish  of  the  first  minuet,  there 
was  the  bustle  of  combination  among  the  white- 
wanded  and  satin-bouqueted  gentlemen.  It 
was  intimated  to  them  that  the  rejected  family, 

m2 


244  JACK    ASHORE. 

iivith  the  exception  of  its  uncertificated  bead, 
was  at  the  door ; — ^more — that  tbey  had  passed 
the  threshold — worse  still,  that  they  were  dis- 
puting in  the  lobby  with  the  doorkeeper,  who 
was  denying  them  entrance.  What  audacity  ! 
what  insolence ! 

A  few  words  from  Jack,  and  all  these  mur- 
murs were  hushed. 

"  I  gave  them  the  tickets — I  invited  them  ! 
I  yielded  the  point  of  the  man  to  you,  gentle- 
men ;  but  his  wife  and  family  are  not  uncer- 
tificated bankrupts.  The  man's  misfortunes 
certainly  cannot  degrade  them.** 

Sir  John  went  to  the  door;  he  gave  the 
flushed  and  burly  Mrs.  Simpkin  his  arm,  and, 
followed  closely  by  her  gratified  family,  he  led 
her  to  the  top  of  the  room.  He  conversed  with 
her  for  some  time^  and,  after  addressing  an  en- 
couraging word  to  each  of  her  children,  he 
placed  her  between  the  august  spouses  of  the 
two  lawyers,  recommending  her  particularly  to 
their  kind  attention. 


JACK    ASHORE.  245 

And  they  showed  it,  after  their  manner. 
They  deplored  the  absence  of  her  husband — 
asked  how  long  he  would  stay  in  the  north  ? — 
who  would  look  after  the  shop  during  his  en- 
forced abdication  ? — and  if,  in  the  very  involved 
state  of  affairs,  they  could  not  get  certain  silks 
and  linens  a  bargain  ? 

These  attentions  were  too  much  for  poor 
Mrs.  Simpkin;  so,  with  her  heart  full,  and 
heroically  suppressing  her  tears,  she  moved  on 
towards  other  consolers,  who  adopted  the  same 
strain  of  sympathy,  and  thus  she  ran  the 
gauntlet  of  comforters.  The  younger  branches 
of  the  family  fared  no  better ;  the  sons  found 
all  the  ladies  engaged,  and  the  daughters  could 
find  none  to  engage  them. 

Our  honest,  kind-hearted  Jack  observed  all 
this,  and,  from  time  to  time,  looked  anxiously 
at  his  watch.  He  had  almost  resolved  to  alter 
his  determination  not  to  dance,  in  order  to  lead 
Mrs.  Simpkin    out,   when  the  bustle  that  he 


246  JACK    ASHORE* 

was    SO    anxiously  expecting   was    at   length 
heard. 

But  we  must  premisci  notwithstanding  all 
Jack's  exertions,  though  the  company  mixed, 
they  did  not  amalgamate.  The  gentry  and 
the  landed  proprietors,  with  their  ladies,  occu- 
pied,  exclusively,  the  right-hand  comer  of  the 
principal  room  ;  round  these  revolved  the  pro- 
fessionals and  their  wives,  in  social  contact, 
but  not  mingled  with  them.  The  rich  farmers, 
with  their  ruddy  and  jolly  dames,  skirmished 
round  the  professionals,  sometimes  penetrating 
the  circle  and  reaching  the  aristocracy,  and 
sometimes  diverging  into  the  shopocracy.  The 
latter  had  a  terrible  tendency  to  coagulate  into 
little  cliques,  but  they  were,  from  time  to  time, 
stirred  up  by  the  wands  of  the  various  stewards, 
and  kept  in  a  tolerable  state  of  fusion.  The 
company  had  just  again  begun  to  subside  into 
knots,  when  the  expected  dash  was  heard. 

There  was  a  shouting  in  the  street,  then  a 


JACK    ASHORE.  247 

huzzaing,  the  trampling  of  many  horses,  and 
cries  of  **  Room,  room  I"  The  doors  were  im- 
mediately flung  open,  and  two  of  the  powdered, 
lace-bedizened  footmen  of  Sir  John,  with  their 
cocked-hats  in  their  left,  and  their  immense 
gold-headed  canes  in  their  right  hands,  rushed 
into  the  room,  and  each  bellowed  out  in  chorus, 
"  Sir  John  Truepenny  !" 

"WelV    said    Sir    John,    "take    breath! 
What's  the  matter  ?" 

"  We — we — I — I — so  wonderful,"*  said  the 
man. 

"  The  hall  on  fire  l" 

**  WonderfuUer  than  that,^  said  one. 

**  It  is  he  hisself,   your  honour,"  said   the 
other. 

«  Who  ?"" 

"  The  great  William    Pitt !"  said  Thomas 
gasping  for  breath. 

'*  The  prime  minister  !"  said  the  other,  look- 
ing terrified. 

Impossible  I''  said  Jack* 


it 


I 


(C 


Cfi 


248  JACK   A8HOKK. 

The  curiosity  became  intense. 

«  True,  Sir  John.** 

**  Chaise  and  four.** 

<*  Outriders." 

''  Dashed  up  to  the  hall." 
Must  see  Sir  John  directly.*^ 
His  Majesty  P 

"  Invasion  !** 

Thus  each  spoke,  taking  the  word  from  each 
in  his  eagerness.  The  public  anxiety  was  excru- 
ciating. The  hush  was  so  great,  that  every 
person  could  hear  his  neighbour's, breathing. 

«  WeUI*** 

^*  We  jumped  behind  the  great  man^s  car- 
riages^ said  the  faster  speaker  of  the  two»  '*  and 
he*s  now  at  the  door,  waiting  to  speak  to  your 
honour.** 

The  sensation  was  electrifying  and  the  rush 
towards  the  door  awful. 

**  Bless  me,  gentlemen,**  roared  out  Jack ; 
'^  what  are  we  all  about  ?  Form  a  procession 
to  receive  the  great  man.    Your  wands — three 


JACK  ASHORK.  249 

abreast.  Let  the  gentry  take  precedence ;  now 
the  clergy — professionals — landholders— hush — 
not  a  word — order.  Now^s  the  time  to  display 
your  loyalty.  Ladies,  range  yourselves  into 
lines — of  course  you  will  do  the  pillar  of  the 
state  honour.^ 

The  ranks  were  duly  formed,  and  out 
marched  the  deputation)  and  shortly  after  re- 
turned, ushering  in,  with  bows  and  vociferous 
cheering,  the  stranger. 

«'  It  is  he  I— It  is  he  1" 

As  the  uncectiBcated  bankrupt  linendraper 
walked  slowly,  smilingly,  and  graciously,  be- 
tween the  two  ranks  of  ladies,  they  curtseyed 
to  the  ground,  waved  their  handkerchiefs,  and 
flung  upon  him  bunches  of  artificial  flowers. 
When  he  arrived  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room, 
the  noise  of  the  clapping  of  hands  and  of  the 
shouting  was  tremendous.  Simpkin  placed 
his  hand  upon  his  heart,  looked  round  with  an 
air  of  triumphant  gratification,  and  made  such 

M  5 


250  JACK    ASHOBE. 

a  bow  that  the  ladies  were  all  enraptured,  and 
the  last  drop  of  whiggery  oozed  out  of  the 
hearts  of  the  men. 

And  then  lifted  up  his  voice  and  spake  that 
incomparable  rogue,  our  dear  Jack,  looking  as 
awe-stricken  as  the  cook's  mate's  scullion  before 
the  skipper  himself. 

'*  Have  I  the  first-rate  honour  of  hailing  the 
pilot  who  weathered  the  storm,  the  heaven-bom 
minister,  the  main-stay  of  the  state,  the  un- 
matched,  matchless,  unmatchable,  the  ad- 
mirable, right  honourable  William  Pitt  .^ 

*'  Hush,  Sir  John  Tniepenny  r  said  the 
linendraper,  with  a  lisping^  sweetly  modulated 
voice.  ^*  Be  discreet,  my  good  Sir  John.  The 
pilot  who  weathered  the  storm  must  have  most 
important  affairs,  to  be  running  over  tbe  coun- 
try at  this  time  of  night."  And  then,  in  a 
sterner  voice,  he  continued,  ^*  Remember,  Sir 
John,  that  my  incognito  is  strict*** 

Though  all  this  was  spoken  so  audibly  that 


JACK  A8HOR£.  251 

every  person  present  heard  him,  he  elevated 
his  voice  still  more,  and  exclaimed,  '*  I  am  not 
William  Pitt — at  least  in  this  room !" 

^*  What  an  able  minister  I  How  beautifully 
he  lies !''  said  half  a  dozen  voices. 

"  He's  as  like  my  Sam  as  two  yards  of  ribbon 
cut  off  the  same  length,"  said  the  good  Mrs. 
Simpkin. 

**  He  is  very  like  pa,"  said  his  two  daughters, 
**  only  pa  ainH  quite  so  ugly." 

^*  He^s  the  very  model  of  father,"  said  the 
three  sons ;  *^  only  a  little  taller.'* 

^'  The  impudence  of  these  low-bom  wretches  V* 
said  and  thought  all  those  about  the  last 
speakers.  ^  This  glorious  minister  is  no  more 
like  the  dirty,  shuffling,  sneaking  shopkeeper, 
than  a  golden  guinea  is  like  a  bad  farthing  !'' 

**  ni  never  believe  rumours  about  likenesses 
again  !" 

"  Nor  I — such  dignity  !" 

**  Nor  I — such  condescension  P* 

'*  Nor  I — such  grace  !" 


262  JACK   ASUOttK. 

^  Hush  I  the  great  aian  speaks." 

^*  Some  few  minutes  of  private  ooQTereatioo 
with  you.  Sir  John,  as  the  principal  landholder 
in  this  part  of  the  county^  and  let  them  get 
fresh  horses ;  my  stay  must  be  brief<**his  Ma- 
jesty— but  I  forget  myself.^ 

Sir  John  was  all  obsequiousness.  The 
small  room,  that  made  the  last  of  the  three 
thrown  open  to  the  company,  and  which  had 
been  used  by  the  elderly  {of  scandal  and 
cards,  was  unceremoniously  cleared,  and  the 
doors  closed  upon  the  deluding  oouplep 

We  blush  to  record  it ;  it  is  4i  stain  on  the 
manners,  nay,  on  the  sense  of  honour,  of  the 
Fortintoweronians ;  but  they  could  not  help  it 
— the  temptation  was  too  much :  it  was  beyond 
mortal  resistance.  The  whig  lawyer  placed  his 
ear  to  the  keyhole,  and  the  tory  lawyer  his  eye 
to  a  chink  in  the  door,  and  t|ie  company  kicked 
neither  of  them — they  did  not  push  them 
indignantly  away;  they  did  not  remonstrate 
with  them  ;  must  we  confess  it  ?  they  approved 


JACK  ASHOBB.  283 

of,  they  encouraged  those  in  the  act,  who  were 
overwhelmed  with  the  questions,  **  Wliat  do 
you  hear  ?  What  do  you  see  ?** 

**  They  are  shaking  hands,"  said  the  tory 
eye  of  the  company. 

J*  They  are  talking  about  fools,  idiots,  asses/* 
said  the  whig  ear. 

**  They  are  dancing  like  mad  about  the 
room,"  notified  the  eye. 

<'  They  are  laughing  hke  to  die^*'  notified  the 
ear. 

*<  They  have  sat  down  in  the  farther  end  of 
the  room.*^ 

**  They  are  talking  in  whispers*'* 

At  last,  to  the  relief  of  much  anxiety,  the 
door  was  suddenly  thrust  open,  the  legal  spies 
overturned,  and  the  droll  pair  reappeared. 

Sir  John  announced  to  the  company  that  the 
distinguished  stranger  had  consented  to  remain 
and  sup  with  them,  and  orders  that  the  horses 
should  be  delayed  were  ostentatiously  given* 
Then  began  the  richness  of  the  farce.    Dancing 


2A4  JACK    A8H0HE. 

was  no  longer  thought  of.  Cards  were  held  as 
an  abomination.  The  musicians  had,  for  that 
evening,  a  sinecure  office.  The  ball-rooms 
were  turned  into  a  court,  the  whole  body  of  the 
assembly  into  courtiers,  and  the  uncertificated 
bankrupt  into  the  potentate,  at  whose  feet  was 
poured  forth  the  incense  of  adulation. 

Then  began  the  introductions.  But  the  wily 
bankrupt  would  receive  none  presented  to  him 
as  William  Pitt,  at  present ;  he  was  bound  to 
keep  up  his  incognUot  but  he  should  be  happy, 
most  happy,  to  bear  to  the  highest  quarters  the 
sentiments  of  loyalty  and  attachment  to  the  go- 
vernment, which  he  had  the  happiness  of  hearing 
on  the  occasion.  Every  man  there  gave  in  his 
adhesion  to  the  present  administration.  Issachar 
Chargeit  abjured  whiggism  for  ever  on  the  spot, 
and  thrust  a  card  in  Simpkin's  hand.  The  squires 
and  their  wives  fawned  about  him,  but  no  one 
was  more  sycophantic  than  the  proud,  fat  rector. 
Dr.  Canticle,  who  had  been,  till  that  moment, 
a  most  arrogant  whig.    After  having  licked  the 


JACK   ASHORK.  255 

rising  dust  from  off  the  linen-draper's  feet,  he 
retired  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and,  with  a 
meek  smile,  sUpped  a  memorial  into  the  hand 
of  his  newly-elected  patron.  This  example  was 
followed  by  many  others,  till  at  length  the  linen- 
draper  had  his  coat-pockets  tolerably  well 
stuffed.  He  then  spoke  of  negotiating  three  or 
four  Fortintower  commissions  of  inquiry, 
with  salaries  for  the  commissioners  of,  say, 
one  thousand  pounds  a  year. 

The  crowd  bowed  down  and  worshipped. 

During  all  this,  our  villanous  Jack  had  got  into 
a  comer  of  the  room,  and  was  all  but  suffocated 
with  suppressed  laughter  ;  he  was  black  in  the 
face,  the  tears  flowed  down  his  cheeks,  and  he 
was  within  seventeen  pulsations  of  apoplexy. 

Simpkin,  after  he  had  taken  down  the  name  of 
almost  every  person  present — for  all  had  some 
favour  to  solicit,  either  for  himself  or  his  con- 
nexions— standing  in  an  imposing  attitude  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  he  made  a  remark  that  he 
had  heard,  that  **  in  this  remote  place  there  was 


356  JACK   ABHOBK* 

one  Simpkiiiy  a  very  honefit  but  unfortunate 
felloW)  who  was  said  to  be  very  like  him. 
Where  was  he  ?    Why  was  he  not  here  ?*' 

Then  bad  he  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  him- 
self most  abundantly  abused.  He  was  informed 
that  he  was  a  scurry,  sneaking  scoundrel,  without 
the  decent  manners  of  a  tradesman ;  a  cheat,  a 
blackguard,  and  no  more  like  his  honourable  sdf 
than  was  a  toad-stool  to  a  rose ;  a  felk>w  that 
ought  to  be  kicked  from  the  stocks  to  the  dung- 
hill, and  there  left  to  rot  and  die. 

Sam  Simpkin  winced  under  this,  changed  co- 
lour, and  very  adroitly  wandered  from  the  sub- 
ject Jack,  however,  came  to  his  relief ;  and 
leading  up  his  own  family,  introduced  them  to 
the  stranger,  who  was  so  aflable  and  courteous 
to  them,  that  Mrs.,  the  Misses,  and  the  Messrs. 
Simpkin  immediately  rose  three  hOndred  per 
cent,  in  the  general  estimation.  The  abusers 
of  the  linen-draper  began  to  think  they  had 
gone  too  far. 

At  length  supper  was  announced  in  the  lower 


JACK   ASHOBB.  857 

rooms.    It  was  a  hot  and  a  substantial  one; 
the   wines   were  good   and  abundant.    Jack^s 
fifty  pounds,  and  the  subscription  tickets,  more 
than   fully  supplied   the  means.    There  were 
two   long  tables   and  a  cross  one,  and  room 
for  all*    Samuel    Simpkin    was   ushered   into 
the  supper-room  with  all  the  honours,  placed 
at  the  cross-table  at  Jack's "^ right  hand;  grace 
was    said,  and   the  banquet    began*    At  the 
cross-table  were  seated  the  deputation  of  thir- 
teen, and  the  principal  gentry  of  the  county. 
They  sported  champagne,  a  wine  that  Simp- 
kin  and  many    of  the   deputation   had  never 
before  tasted,   and  the  poor  linen-draper  was 
hardly  borne  upon — ^for  who   there  was   not 
ambitious  to  drink  wine  with  him  ?     He  soon 
began    to    forget    himself   momentarily,    and 
Jack    pinched    him     into     black    and    blue 
'  spots  to  make  him  recover  himself.     No  one, 
however,  remarked  his  indiscriminate  drinking ; 
for  every  one   knew  how  potential  was  Eng- 
land's mainstay,  in  that  particular. 


258  JACK    ASHORE. 

Then  began  the  toasts  — His  Majesty — ^the 
Royal  Family— The  glorious  Administration. 
None  of  these  royal  effusions  unkennelled  the  fox^ 
or  opened  the  mouth  of  the  Pitt.  Then  uprose 
Dr.  Canticle,  and,  in  a  loathsomely  fulsome  ora« 
tion,  having  deified  the  king  and  his  prime  minis- 
ter, he  concluded  much  in  this  way :  **  If  ever 
there  was  an  immortal  spirit  descending  direct 
from  heaven,  it  inhabits  that  bosom  ;  age  shall 
mumble  blessings  upon  him  in  its  prayers ;  man- 
hood shall  breathe  only  to  applaud  him,  and 
infancy  shall  lisp  his  name  in  conjunction  with 
that  of  its  king  and  its  God;  he,  he  is  our 
saviour ;  our  lives,  our  properties — all  that  we 
have  are  his,  for  has  he  not  preserved  them  to 
us  all  ?  We  offer  him,  we  tender  him  every- 
thing.'* (Loud  cries  of  **  We  do,  we  do  JT)  "  He 
has  to  command,  and  we  obey.  (Cheers.)  If  I 
may  now,  here,  drink  the  health  of  this  imper- 
sonation of  the  angelic  nature  by  the  all-hallowed 
name  of  William  Pitt — let  me  do  it  now  in  nine 
times  nine— in  proposing  the  health  of  our  distin- 


JACK   ASHORE.  259 

guished   guest,   our    friend,  our  patron  ,  our 
protector.   This  is  a  great  day  for  Fortintower.** 

We  need  not  describe  the  cheers  nor  the  up- 
roar of  applause  attendant  upon  this  outbreak 
of  eloquence.  It  subsided  at  length,  and,  stea- 
died by  Jack  on  one  side,  and  Squire  Booby- 
hatch  of  Boobyhatch  on  the  other,  up  rose  the 
immortalised  Simpkin,  and  electrified  his 
hearers  by  the  following  splendid  harangue. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen — I  rise — never  mind 
— I  always  hiccup — in  this  here  sitivation — 
sitivation  of  honour  and  glory — damn  the  whigs  ! 
— damn  the  opposition — (hurrah)  —  an  oppo- 
sition unmannerly,  ungenerous,  unneighbourly 
— a  beastly  opposition. — (Cheering  tremendous.) 
Had  it  not  been  for  this  malignant  opposition, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  /  should  have  got  my  cer- 
tificate two  months  ago^ 

"  Go  it,"  roared  Jack,  «  go  it !" 

**  I  see  that  rogue  Issachar  Chargeit ;  if  it 
warn't  for  the  present  company,  Fd  just  smash 
his  eyes  out  with  this  here  empty  bottle — ^'twas 


i60  JACK    ASHOKS. 

that  viUain  headed  the  oppositioii— «he  oppowd 
my  certificate — ^he,  he — ^Bob  SimpkiD)  I  hope 
you've  looked  to  the  shop  in  my  absencew 
Mrs.  Simpkin,  Vjn  astonished  at  you — hayrc 
you  turned  that  slut  Dolly  away  ? — you  have 
drunk  my  health — Vye  got  new  cards  printed 
— Fve  just  laid  in  my  winter  stock— -grand 
assortment — ^wholesale  prices — ^business  carried 
on  as  usual  in  my  son^s  name— bip^  hip,  hurrah  ! 

—charge  your  glasses.  Success  to  the  Empo- 
rium of  Fashion,  Nok  8,  Bogbuiy  Street,  and 
d — ^n  the  oppodtion  I" 

And  thus  saying  he  whirled  ofi^  his  frizzled 
whig,  and  dexterously  lodged  it,  with  a  jerk, 
upon  the  branches  of  the  chandelier  that  hung 
in  the  centre  of  the  room,  where  it  was  glori- 
ously consumed,  and  he  stood  confessed  in  his 
black,  strait,  cropped  hair — the  bankrupt  linen- 
draper. 

The  confusion  was  tremendous.  Half  the 
guests  hurried  ofi^  immediately  to  hide  their 
shame  and  confusion ;  the  other  half  made  the 


JACK    ASHORE.  961 

place  reverberate  with  shouts  aod  roars  of 
lau^ter.  Jack  got  on  the  cross^table,  and 
capered  with  wild  delight,  and  the  hero  of 
the  night  fell  crying  drunk  into  the  arms  of 
his  affectionate  family. 

Those  who  took  the  joke  in  good  part  re^ 
mained ;  the  opposing  creditors  were  softened ; 
the  certificate  was  promised  ;  the  orgies  of  the 
night  commenced ;  and  all  that  ensued  was  in- 
temperance and  madness. 

Ultimately  it  did  Simpkin  much  good ;  for 
they  looked  upon  him  from,  that  time  forth, 
though  the  least  bit  in  the  world  of  a  rogue^ 
yet  as  a  very  clever  fellow,  and  Sir  John 
Truepenny  befriended  him  ever  after. 


262  JACr   ASHORE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Jack  procMdi  from  bad  to  worte-^Promifles  amendment,  and 
learee  even  the  hope  of  it  behind — ^Hean  fearful  newa,  and 
is  feariuUj  affected— Prepares  to  act,  and,  when  too  late, 
makes  some  rexy  excellent  reflections, 

Our  task  becomes  now  a  melancholy  one.  To 
use  a  sea-phrase.  Sir  John  Truepenny'*s  head 
had  cast  the  wrong  way.  At  times,  his  conduct 
became  outrageous,  and  his  intemperance  had 
become  habitual.  To  this  line  of  conduct  he 
found  too  many  inviters,  too  many  abettors 
in  it.  He  committed  every  possible  folly, 
with  the  exception  that  he  continued  the  honest 
lawyer,  Mr.  Singleheart,  as  the  sole  manager 
of  his  afiairs,  and  no  persuasions  could  induce 


JACK  ASHOftK.  263 

him  to  game.  To  these  resolutions  he  held 
like  a  ship  in  a  storm  riding  on  a  lee-shore  by 
her  sheet  and  best  bower  anchor.  His  amanu- 
ensis also  remained  his  true  and  humble 
friend. 

We  must  now  take  a  review  of  the  principal 
characters  that  had  influence  on  Jack's  fate, 
and  their  various  positions  at  this  time.  Lord 
Fortintower  was  still  splendidly  impressive  at 
the  little  German  court,  at  which  he  more  than 
upheld  the  dignity  of  his  sovereign.  He 
wearied  of  his  indolent  magnificence,  longed  for 
activity,  worldly  advancement,  and  worldly 
lucre.     He  was  a  disappointed  man. 

His  gentle  and  good  lady  was  ever  the  same, 
excepting  in  happiness.  She  was  distressed  at 
the  continual  anxieties  and  repinings  of  her 
husband  ;  but  in  her  unfading  love  she  dis- 
played  the  perfection  of  her  character.  The 
god  of  her  youthful  idolatry  had  changed  into 
a  mere  fallible  mortal,  yet  her  affection  knew 
of  no  diminution.    Perhaps  she  loved  the  more 


S64  JACK    A8HOBK. 

tenderly,  in  proportion  to  the&iUngs  that,  she  ao 
unwillingly  admitted  he  possessed,  were  forced 
upon  her  perception.  She  longed  again  for  Eng- 
land, and  ardently  wished  once  more  to  see  her 
grandfather  alive,  and  receive  from  him  another 
blessing,  before  he  passed  into  the  tomb. 

The  fat,  dark-browed  bumboat  woman,  Mr& 
Snowdrop,  was  rapidly  adding  pence  to  diillings, 
shillings  to  pounds,  and  pounds  to  her  al- 
ready considerable  wealth,  at  her  boisterous 
and  laborious  calling;  whilst  her  daughter,  in  a 
first-rate  establishment  near  London,  was 
equally  or  even  more  assiduous  in  accumu* 
lating  mental  treasures. 

The  wily  lawyer,  Mr.  Scrivener,  though  he 
never  appeared  in  Jack's  presence,  was  in- 
fluencing all  about  him,  and  was  sometimes 
under  his  roof  without  the  knowledge  of  his 
son-in-law.  He  still  prosecuted  his  harassing 
opposition  to  the  Truepenny  will,  and  was 
doing  everything  in  his  power  to  get  all  the 
property  of  both  the  Traepennys  and  Jack^'s 


JACK    ASHORE.  265 

into  bis  possession ;  if  asked  why,  he  certainly 
could  not  have  given  a  better  answer  than  that 
he  wanted  it 

Old  Truepenny  dozed  on  in  a  state  between 
life  and  death,  yet  possessing,  when  aroused, 
the  full  exercise  of  his  faculties,  and  existing 
only,  or  only  wishing  to  exist,  until  the  im- 
portant question  of  the  will  was  settled. 

Giles  Grimm  was  superlatively  happy  in  the 
command  of  Sir  John's  yacht 

In  this  state  of  things  the  winter  passed,  and 
the  time  for  the  meeting  of  parliament,  and 
consequently  for  the  choice  of  a  member  for 
Fortintower,  was  rapidly  approaching.  By 
this  time  the  catalogue  of  Jack's  absurdities 
was  enormous,  and  the  poor  wretch  knew  not 
that  his  every  action  was  narrowly  watched  and 
faithfully  recorded.  Yet,  in  the  few  intervals 
that  he  procured  of  actual  sobriety,  his  remorse 
was  agonising,  and  his  resolutions  of  amend- 
ment as  sincere  as  they  were  evanescent.  But 
the   aching   head,    the  longing  stomach,    the 

VOL.    III.  N 


266  JACK    ASHOEE« 

trembling  hand,  and  the  ever^raving  excite- 
ment, demanded  a  little  stimulant ;  and  thus 
the  excess  of  one  day  was  exaggerated  by  the 
excess  of  the  next  It  must  now  be  confessed 
that  his  reason  b^an  to  tremble  upon  her 
throne ;  in  his  whims  and  freaks,  the  wit  gra- 
dually became  less,  the  extravagance  more,  and 
his  lawyer  shuddered  for  him,  when  he  heard 
him  talk  of  building  a  seargcHng  vessel  of  two 
hundred  tons,  upon  a  small  piece  of  water  in 
his  grounds,  that  had  barely  sufficient  depth  to 
float  a  pleasure-barge.  But  the  crisis  was  fast 
approaching;  it  travelled  like  a  thunder-cloud, 
darkly,  rapidly,  and  surcharged  with  ruin. 
Jack  saw  its  awful  approach,  and  only  grinned 
like  an  idiot. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  Cdonel  Chace- 
hell  was,  all  this  time,  an  inmate  at  Fortintower 
Hall — a  sick,  a  sorrowing,  and  a  wounded  in- 
mate—but still  a  most  dangerous  one.  He 
never  could  bring  himself  to  think  that  any 
other  but   Jack   inflicted  the  grievous  hurts. 


JACK    ASHORE.  267 

from  the  effects  of  which  he  bad  so  long  suf- 
fered. He  had,  therefore,  an  ample  score  of 
revenge  to  wipe  off — and  now,  at  least.  Jack 
was  playing  his  game.  From  October  to 
January  the  colonel  had  been  confined  to  his 
room;  but  he  had  his  consolations.  Lady 
Truepenny  was  with  him  constantly.  Knowing 
the  lightness  of  her  character,  the  instability  of 
her  affections,  and  her  total  want  of  heart,  we 
need,  not  be  told  that  she  had  fallen  an  easy 
victim  to  her  guest. 

But  from  that  moment  her  conduct  towards 
her  husband  had  changed.  He  seemed  no 
longer  indifferent  to  her;  she  soothed  and 
petted  him,  and  Jack  had  determined,  when 
his  long  procrastinated  reform  took  place,  that 
he  would  make  himself  the  best,  the  most  in- 
dulgent, and  the  most  assiduous  of  husbands. 
In  fact,  it  needed  only  kindness  to  make  his 
heart  softer  than  a  child's,  and  more  loving  than 
that  of  a  virgin  in  her  first  affection.  But  he 
was  blinded  by  his  habitual  intemperance ;  had 

n2 


268  JACK    ASHORE. 

be  been  himself,  he  would  have  observed  that 
she  rather  encouraged  him  in  his  various  de- 
bauches, and  appeared  to  be  always  a  gratified 
listener  to  all  his  mad  freaks;  so  that  the 
pleasure  of  relating  them  to  her  became  one  of 
his  great  incitements  to  perform  them. 

The  poor  deluded  fellow  knew  not,  that  in 
the  colonel's  sick  room  her  father  and  herself 
were  repeatedly  in  consultation  with  that  mili- 
tary sportsman  ;  and  the  question  most  debated 
was,  **  Is  it  time?  Is  the  iron  hot  enough  to 
be  struck  ?  the  pear  ripe  enough  to  be  shaken  ?** 
In  the  mean  time  Jack  began  to  grow  very 
fond  of  his  pretty  wife,  and,  drunk  or  sober,  she 
was  continually  in  his  mind,  and  her  name 
on  his  lips,  whilst  he  never  mentioned  the 
colonel ;  indeed  he  seemed  to  have  totally  for- 
gotten that  there  was  a  person  so  important 
still  in  existence.  His  lady  took  care  never  to 
remind  him  of  it. 

This  returning  fondness  on  the  part  of  Sir 
John  for  his  wife  might  have  had  very  benefi- 


JACK   ASHORE.  269 

cial  effects,  had  not  events  crowded  upon  him 
too  rapidly  to  give  him,  not  only  no  time  to  re- 
form, but  even  to  reflect.  He  had  lately  taken 
a  decided  inclination  towards  low  associates. 
There  was  a  little  village,  to  which  we  have  be- 
fore alluded,  situated  between»the  hall  and  the 
small  town  of  Fortintower,  called  Sandburn, 
which  boasted  of  one  tolerably  decent  alehouse, 
and  at  this  place  a  free-and-easy  club  had  been 
established  through  the  activity  of  Groggy 
Foxhead,  consisting  of  the  wildest  characters  of 
the  neighbourhood,  and  the  hardest  drinkers 
of  the  sottish  little  borough  of  Fortintower. 
Of  this  Jack  was  emperor  and  perpetual  pre-r 
sident.  Here,  throwing  aside  all  the  restraints 
of  rank,  station,  and  decency,  he  shone  forth  in 
all  the  dissolute  glory  of  ebriety.  He  usually 
attended  these  meetings  attired  as  a  common 
sailor,  and  would  on  no  account  be  addressed 
by  his  title.  Here  he  played  the  fiddle,  whis- 
tled in  his  exquisite  manner^  danced  the  main- 
deck  hornpipe,  and  sang  the  choicest  sea-songs. 


270  JACK   ASHORE. 

His  bnitified  mind  fed  ravenouslj  upoo  the 
adulation  of  his  low  companions,  and  he  there 
tasted  of  as  much  happiness  as  the  present  state 
of  his  intellect  was  capabl€i>of  enjoying.  These 
orgies  generally  terminated  by  Jack  and  the 
ratcatcher  seeing*  every  one  under  the  table, 
and  then  a  chaise  that  was  always  waiting  for 
them,  entrusted  to  the  care  of  a  prudent  ser- 
vant, conveyed  them  to  the  Hall,  to  sleep  off 
the  effects  of  their  intoxication.  It  was  a 
methodized  madness. 

Poor  Mr.  Singleheart  often  now  regarded 
our  hero  with  looks  of  the  deepest  commisera- 
tion, and  the  tears  would  stand  in  his  eyes  as  he 
attempted  to  wean  him  from  his  pursuits,  and  in- 
duce him  to  give  more  attention  to  what  passed 
at  home,  and  more  particularly  as  respected  the 
conduct  of  his  lady.  His  modest  amanuensis, 
Mr.  Hawkins,  also  threw  out  such  broad  hints, 
that  at  least  they  ought  to  have  excited  his  at- 
tention ;  but  they  were  of  no  avail.  All  intima- 
tions that  he  ought  to  be  more  at  home  and 


JACK    ASHORE*  271 

attentive  to  his  lady,  were  not  only  distasteful 
to  him,  but  bitterly  resented.  He  was  deter- 
mined on  his  own  ruin  in  his  own  way. 

It  was  the  last  Monday  in  January — a  clear 
sharp  night,  and  the  snow  was  upon  the 
ground,  and  of  a  considerable  depth.  It  was  also 
club-night,  and  Sir  John  had  been  unusually 
merry.  By  midnight  he  and  the  dog-fancier 
had  overthrown  all  their  companions;  those 
who  had  not  been  able  to  stagger  home,  were 
lying  about  the  house  in  a  state  of  stupefaction. 
There  was  still  some  punch  in  the  bowl,  and 
the  two  companions  were  opposite,  enacting 
the  respective  parts  of  Democritus  and  Hera* 
clitus.  Jack  was  all  fun  and  laughter,  and 
the  mediciner  of  dogs  and  horses  all  tears  and 
lamentation.  It  was  the  third  time  that  the 
latter  had  been  drunk  that  day. 

^<  Now  look  ye,  messmate,**  said  Jack,  ^*  if 
you  don't  swab  up  your  eyes  and  ship  a  broad 
grin,  may  I  swallow  a  marling-spike  but  I'll 


273  JACK    ASHORE. 

Start  you^  and  make  you  sing  small  in  Spa- 
nish/' 

"  Now  don't,"  said  his  friend ;  "  I  honers 
yer,  and  these  here  tears  as  is  a  flowing  is 
a  flowing  for  you  —  youVe  decaived,  you're 
diddled}  you're  humbugged — he  laughs  at  you, 
and  she  laughs  at  you,  and  they  laugh  at  you — 
all  laugh  at  you  but  your  dear  neglected 
pal,  honest  Foxhead,  and  he  is  kicked  about 
from  hell  to  Hackney,  and  all  'cos  he's  got  a 
tinder  heart— oh,  oh,  oh  !" — and  here  his  blub- 
bering was  increased. 

"  Why,  you  spooney  gafi-topsail  —  you're 
boiling  over  like  a  pot  of  lobscouce,  and  the 
cook's  mate  drunk.  Who  laughs  at  me,  you 
rat-catching  varmint  ?" 

"  I  doesn't — I  cries — and  sich  a  man  too — ^a 
half  gallon  of  half-and-half,  and  stiff  as  a 
broomstick — to  wrong  sich  a  man  I  Oh,  oh  ! 
what  is  this  world  come  to  ?  O  dear— oh,  oh !" 

."  Who  dares  laugh  at  me  ?^ 


JACK    A8HOBE.  273 

"  The  kurnel.'* 

"  The  colonel— curse  him  !  Isn't  he  laid 
up  in  the  sick  ward  in  the  hospital,  somewhere 
in  the  garret? — let  him  laugh — it's  many  a 
long  day  since  I  heard  his  name,  and  many  a 
long  day  may  it  be  till  I  hear  it  again— only 
just  let  me  know  that  one  day  when  he  loses 
the  number  of  his  mess,  and  it  shall  go  hard 
with  me  but  FU  contrive  that  a  live  toad  shall 
be  buried  with  him  in  his  coffin — the  venomous 
beast — curse  him  !" 

Now,  in  this  elegant  dialogue,  let  it  be 
understood  that  both  parties  stuttered  in  their 
speech  considerably,  and  that,  though  seated, 
their  bodies  swayed  to  and  fro,  as  sway  the 
sundry  eatables  triced  up  to  the  mainstay  of  a 
Yankee  drogher. 

^*  It  does  my  poor  broken  heart  good  to 
hear  ye  cuss  that  sodger — go  it  again,  my  daffy- 
down-dilly,  and  lay  it  on  thick — ^because  there 
be  a  cause — Jack,  a  cause— I  sees  it  who 
shouldn't — a  cause — ^a  cause.** 

M  5 


274  JACK    ASHORE. 

'^Yet  I'm  even  with  the  tbiog — ^he  came 
here  to  dupe  me^to  get  my  rhino — to  make  a 
fool  of  me— play  or  pay.  O !  I  think  I've 
played,  and  he  has  paid — couldn't  shoot  flying 
— couldnH  ride.  My  shot  have  told,  however, 
and  many  a  blowing  day  will  come  and  go 
before  he  sits  in  a  saddle  again.**^ 

*'  He  rides  in  your  sad — ad — addle,  I  tell 
yer— Oh  !  oh  !^ 

**  You'^re  drunk.  Groggy,  and  I'm  positively 
ashamed  of  you.  You  are  but  a  glass  or  two 
better  than  the  soaked  bungs  under  the  table : 
be  more  of  a  man,  and  be  d  d  to  you— take 
another  glass  to  steady  you,  and  listen  to 
me." 

^*  I's  a  listening  and  a  veeping  for  you.  The 
kurneFs  got  the  better  of  yer.** 

^'  You  lie,  you  scum  of  the  earth  !  How 
has  he  got  the  better  of  me?^' 

"  By  his  a  vearing  o'  yer  best  hat — he's  a 
been   valking  in   your  floi?er-garden   and     a  . 
treading  down  the  tulips — he's  a  been  driving 


JACK   ASHORE.  275 

in  tenpenny  nails  upon  your  coat  of  arms — 
a  flinging  mud  upon  yer  best  dimity  kirtins— 
and  yer  none  the  viser— d*yer  twig,  my  covey  ?" 

^*  You  insolent  eye-piping  fragment  of  cock- 
ney filth,  have  you  the  audacity  to  say,  or  to 
think,  that  he  has  made  free  with  Lady  True- 
penny ?" 

^'  Not  more  free  than  welcome,  I  kalkerlate 
— I  could  veep  my  kidneys  into  fiddle-strings 
for  yer — oh  !  oh  r 

*^  Come,  come,  Master  Foxhead,  stow  all 
that,  and  clap  the  hatches  of  prudence  over  it 
— you  may  make  your  fun  with  me,  and  all's 
fair  and  aboveboard — but  'ware  my  wife — I 
stand  no  nonsense  about  her,  messmate — you 
contemptible  spoon-bill.  She  tells  me  she 
detests  the  colonel,  and  I  know  if  she  had 
her  own  way,  ill  and  disabled  as  he  is,  sheM 
pack  him  out  this  very  night,  and  the  snow  on 
the  ground  three  feet  deep.  Groggy,  it  won't 
do — we  are  getting  on  exoellently  together.     It 


276  JACK  ASHORE* 

was  but  this  morning  that,  in  a  fit  of  fondness, 
I  promised  to  desert  the  club^  leave  off  grog, 
put  down  poaching,  send  you  packing  about 
your  business^  and  to  become  a  decent  liver, 
and  an  honourable  member  of  the  aristocracy. 
D'ye  hear  that,  old  snuff-the-wind  ?" 

'*  And  did  she,  was  she  so  cruel-hearted  as 
to  go  for  to  make  yer  promise  all  this  here? 
I  say.  Sir  John  Truepenny,  did  she  ?" — and  the 
respectable  individual  who  spoke  thus,  cried 
much  less  than  before. 

'<  Sir  John  Truepenny  in  your  throat,  you 
stale  mess  of  porter  dregs — she  not  only  made 
me  promise  all  this,  but  that  promise  will  I 
faithfully  keep,  if  there  is  any  honesty  in 
me,  or  strength  in  gunpowder.  So  regulate 
yourself  thereupon,  my  piping  bulfinch,  and 
the  more  you  Sir  John  me,  the  sooner  will 
you  see  it  done.  So  chalk  that  down  on  your 
log*board." 

*'  Veil,  the  vickedness  of  this  world  is  von* 


JACK    ASHOR£.  277 

derful — shouldn't  at  all  vonder  if  brimstone 
and  fire  vas  to  come  and  destroy  it  this  very 
night.  And  she  said  this  as  regards  me,  the 
only  friend  you  both  have — but  I  von't  stand 
it ;  I'm  too  vartuous  for  that  ere — I  can't  see 
my  friend  wronged  any  more — Jack,  before 
you  pours  that  hindiwidual  punch  down  your 
vindpipe,  just  yer  listen  to  the  voice  of  friend- 
ship, and  don't  yer  be  vexed  to  hear  that  this 
blessed  moment  yer  vife's  making  herself  quite 
cozy  with  the  kumel.^ 

'  Jack  dashed  the  uplifted  tumbler  on  the 
floor,  and,  flying  upon  the  ratcatcher,  seized 
him  by  the  throat,  and  nearly  shook  him  from 
his  chair  into  the  next  world.  At  length, 
relaxing  his  hold,  and  putting  on  a  grim  smile, 
he  exclaimed,  '^  I  am  a  fool — he  is  a  con- 
founded liar — ^and  such  a  paltry  blackguard 
into  the  bargain.  I'll  give  him  ten  pounds 
to-morrow,  and  then  order  him  to  be  horse- 
whipped ofi^  the  grounds,  and  clean  out  of  the 
estate.     But  look  you,  you  foul*  mouthed  vil- 


278  JACK   ASHORE. 

lain,  if  you  ever  again  dare  to  utter  such  a 
scandalous  lie,  your  punishment,  your  misery, 
shall  be  very  dreadful.  Look  at  me  now, 
you  scoundrel— -you  see  that  I  am  sober — and 
hereafter  see  in  me  only  Sir  John  True- 
penny." 

^^  Sir  John  Truepenny,*'  said  the  man  with 
a  respectful  air,  ^*  I  am  now  sober  as  well  as 
you.  You*Il  repent  this  vilence— I  knows  my 
station,  and  I  didn't  valk  out  of  it ;  but  you've 
a  dragged  me — I  pities  you  arter  all  —  for 
a^elp  me  God,  every  word  I  have  told  you  is 
true.  Keep  your  hands  off.  Sir  John — ^you're 
a  better  man  nor  I — ^but  this  here  knife  will 
find  the  vitals  of  a  betterer  man  nor  both  of 
us.  So  just  yer  listen — when  yer  gits  home, 
convince  yer  two  precious  eyes;  then  if  I  ha 
lied,  Fm  at  yer  mercy — I  sha'n't  budge— I 
only  tells .  yer  what  every  one's  up  to  but 
yerself.  Now,  Sir  John  Truepenny,  what  will 
yer  do  ?" 

"  Go  mad — but  first  of  all  I'll  prove — and 


JACK   ASHORE.  279 

then — leave  it  to  Heaven.  I  am  a  poor  miser- 
able worm.  But  we  wonH  be  rash — -just  fling 
away  that  knife,  there's  a  good  fellow — thank 
God,  I  have  no  arms  about  me — come  along. 
Is  the  chaise  waiting? — weUl  act  discreetly. 
Should  I  discover  them — but  I'm  very  weak 
now — not  half  tlie  man  I  was  when  afloat.  And 
go  with  anything  dangerous  about  me^  I  will 
not — Heaven  have  mercy  upon  them,  have  pity 
on  me  l^ 

The  servant  was  aroused,  and  Jack  and  his 
companion  entered  the  chaise.  The  servant 
who  drove,  and  who  never  got  drunk,  and  was 
thus  selected  for  the  ofiice,  was  much  surprised 
to  see  how  apparently  sober  his  master  and 
the  ratcatcher  were. 

Sir  John,  in  his  agony,  knew  not  what  to 
say,  yet  could  not  remain  silent ;  so,  in  the 
most  collected  manner  that  he  could  assume, 
he  asked  the  man  who  was  driving  him  home,  if 
the  household  talked  about  his  wife.     He  care- 


280  JACK    ASHORE. 

lessly  replied,  that  people  said  that  there  was 
a  good  understanding  between  Sir  John,  his 
lady,  and  the  colonel.  This  was,  if  possible, 
adding  heat  to  the  fire  in  his  heart,  wormwood 
to  the  bitterness  of  his  agony.  He  understood 
that  it  was  held  that  he  connived  at  his  own 
shame — that  he  was  looked  upon  as  the  pander 
to  his  own  disgrace. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  Hall,  Sir  John, 
with  an  assumed  carelessness,  remarked  that 
neither  he  nor  his  friend  had  had  their 
whack ;  so  he  told  the  servant  to  place  spirits, 
water,  and  tumblers  in  one  of  the  parlours, 
and  then  to  go  to  bed,  and  disturb  nobody. 
The  man  obeyed ;  and  shortly  after  Jack  and 
the  ratcatcher  were  left  together,  apparently 
the  only  two  awake  in  that  spacious  mansion. 


JACK  ASHORE.  281 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  crisis  and  the  explosion — Colonel  Chasehell  gets  a  terri- 
ble tumble,  and  Jack  terminates,  for  the  present,  his  race  of 
ruin  in  a  mad  run — ETOrjrthing  looks  black  and  desolate,  and 
nothing  is  left  but  hope. 

"Don't  be  rash  ?'  was  all  that  the  affrighted 
Foxhead  could  utter.  Jack  replied  not,  but 
drank  tumbler  after  tumbler  of  water.  At 
length,  looking  dreadfully  pale,  he  stole  up  in 
the  darkness  to  his  wife's  apartment.  Slowly  he 
took  every  step,  and  minutely  he  remembered 
every  stair.  "  There  is  still  hope,''  he  thought. 
*^  It  i^ill  be  a  new  life  to  me  if  I  find  her  peace- 
ably sleeping.  Til  be  a  new  man ;  for  she  is 
very  lovely,  and,  if  properly  treated,  must  be 
very  good.     I  have  been  very  much  frightened. 


282  JACK   ASHORE. 

yet  I  will  punish  nobody.  Oh,  it  will  all  be 
right ;  and  what  a  happy  life  we  will  lead  !  Ill 
take  again  to  claret  and  my  books :  the  masters 
shall  come  down,  and  Foxhead  shall  go  to-mor- 
row— ^yes,  to-morrow.  How  quiet  everything 
is  !  Can  there  be  anything  guilty  going  on  in 
this  calm  peace  ?  This  is  her  door.  The  moon 
shines  very  brighdy,  but  it's  dreadful  cold. 
How  I  tremble  !  I'll  go  back — why  should  I 
torture  myself?  But — but — that  ratcatcher 
will  laugh  at  me.  Her  door  is  ajar.  She 
expected  me!  Bless  her!  a  thousand  bless- 
ings on  her  simple  good  heart!  This  silent 
invitation  to  that  drunken  beast  of  a  husband 
is  so  kind — 111  reward  her  if  I  live.  Hist !  I 
think  I  hear  her  breathing.  I'll  not  wake  her. 
I  am  not  tipsy  certainly,  but  I  have  drunk  too 
much  ;  so  111  just  look  upon  her  beauty  as  she 
sleeps— stoop  down  and  give  her  one  kiss— say 
over  her  my  too  much  neglected  prayers — and 
go  to  my  lonely  room,  an  altered  and  a  better 
man." 


JACK    ASHORE.  283 

There  was  sufficient  moonlight  to  make  every- 
thing visible.  His  heart  throbbed  high  when 
he  saw  the  various  articles  of  her  dress  lying 
carelessly  about  the  room.  He  was  happy. 
The  blood  danced  joyously  through  his  veins, 
and  mantled  warmly  in  his  cheek  one  moment — 
and  the  next,  in  horror,  he  stood  like  a  stricken 
corpse — ^pale,  rigid,  and  with  a  fearful  abstrac- 
tion in  his  eyes.  The  bed  was  untenanted.  It 
had  not  been  disturbed.  John  Truepenny  fell 
upon  it  in  the  excess  of  his  anguish,  and  re-' 
mained  there  for  some  time  in  utter  help- 
lessness. 

At  length  he  walked  forth  with  breaking 
heart  and  tottering  steps,  and  joined  his  com- 
panion below.  The  man  started  and  shuddered 
as  he  gazed  upon  the  pallid  face  of  his  patron, 
and  marked  the  convulsive  twitching  of  his 
features^  There  was  a  restless  wildness  in  his 
eyes  that  was  terrible  to  behold  ;  and  Foxhead 
stood  aghast  at  the  mischief  he  had  been  the 
means  of  working. 


284  JACK    ASHORE. 

^^  Let  us  sit  down  for  a  while,"  said  the  in- 
jured man,  *^  and  let  us  make  use  of  the  little 
sense  misery  has  left  me.  What  I  next  shall 
do^  I  fear  I  shall  do  in  madness.  The  black 
cloud  is  rising  from  the  bosom  of  the  sea,  but 
I  have  neither  the  heart  nor  spirit  to  make  all 
snug  for  the  storm ;  no,  nor  the  manhood  to 
take  in  a  single  sail.  There  is  a  darkness  upon 
me — nay,  I  am  in  the  midst  of  it.  I  am  myself 
the  night  The  black  calm  around  me  is  heavy 
— heavy  and  suffocating,  as  if  I  were  drowning 
in  a  sea  of  ink  ;  and  it  is  very  chill  and  icy 
also." 

"  Don't  talk  so,  Sir  John  Truepenny ;  pray 
don't  yer  talk  so!^  said  the  affrighted  rat- 
catcher. 

^*  It  is  better ;  I  must  act  soon,  and  my  acting 
will  be  worse  than  my  talking.  I  tell  you  that 
I  am  in  obscurity— everything  is  cold  and  dark 
about  me — dark  and  cold — dark  and  cold — dark 
and  cold  r 

The  ratcatcher  rose  very  carefully,  snuffed 


JACK    ASHORE.  285 

the  candles,  stirred  up  the  fire,  and  half  filled 
a  tumbler  of  brandy  for  the  mourner. 

"  Never  did  a  poor  worn-out  crew,  with  their 
craft  at  midnight  on  a  lee-shore;  pant  for  light 
as  I  do-light— light  r       , 

Groggy  lighted  the  two  wax-candles  in  the 
bedroom  candlesticks,  and  then  the  large  ar- 
gand  lamp,  and  muttered,  *^  He's  grumbling 
for  light — and  he's  lightheaded  already." 

"  O  for  the  light  of  other  days — for  the 
freshening  sea«breezes — ^for  the  laugh  of  the 
heart — ^for  the  springing  step  of  health — for  the 
careless  shout  of  happiness — O  for  the  honest 
faces  of  my  jovial  shipmates  —  the  meanest 
among  them— was  he  not  a  lord,  a  prince,  com- 
pared to  the  slaver-sucking  reptiles  around  me  ? 
All  here  is  deceit,  and  treachery,  and  villany. 
O  for  the  honest  countenances  of  my  old  ship- 
mates !  Where,  in  this  detested  place,  is  there  a 
pleasant  countenance  to  look  upon  ? — 'Tis  the 
frank  honest  countenance  that  I  love,  but  I  see 
nothing  here  but  despicable  faces — faces  ugly 
with  sheer  villany !'' 


286  JACK   ASHOAE. 

"Vastly  civil — vastly!**  grumbled  his  com- 
panion. ^*  I  hadn't  the  making  of  my  face,  or 
Pd  a  bettered  the  sample  ;"**  but  speaking  loud 
enough  for  the  distracted  wretch  to  hear  him, 
he  continued,  "Begging  your  pardon,  Sir  John, 
but  if  s  thought  my  lady  is  mortal  pretty.^^ 

"  D — n  herj  how  could  I  ever  have  thought 
so  ? — blinded  fool  that  I  was ! — she  pretty ! — the 
most  loathsome  witch  that  ever  fed  upon  the 
venom  of  her  own  heart  is  more  comely  than 
that — that — being  without  a  name.  Her  eyes 
are  soft  and  blue,  like  the  deep  deep  sea — ^what 
o'  that  ?  Her  cheeks  are  round  and  fair,  and 
the  blush  upon  them  is  as  rich  as  the  first  streak 
of  a  summer  morning — what  of  that  ? — you  fool ! 
what  of  that  ?  And  then  her  hair — ^it  is  gold 
itself,  touched  with  silver — bright  and  soft ! — 
but  her  lips — they  are  only  like  little  rosebuds 
for  truth  and  love  to  repose  on  together — they 
are  lips  indeed ; — when  you  have  seen  them,  all 
others  will  seem  nothing  but  so  many  fiesh- 
traps  to  let  food  in,  and  Ues  out — but  to  see  her 


JACK    ASHORE. 


287 


lips  smiling— beware,  or  you'll  be  an  undone 
wretch,  as  I  am  I** 

**  Well,"'  murmured  the  dog-fancier,  "  for  an 
ugly  woman  this  is  a  very  fair  specimen." 

«  Then  the  outlines  of  her  perfect  form  I  A 
well-cut  topsail  properly  set ;  or  a  white  cloud, 
behind  which  the  moon  loves  to  play  hide  and 
seek — or  a  swan — or  a  frigate  at  rest  upon  the 
waters,  are  very  graceful  things ;  but  what  are 
these  to  the  charming  outline  of  her  figure,  as  she 
moves  gently  like  a  light  breeze  over  the  sea, 
or  when  she  is  still  in  the  soft  loveliness  of  her 

quiet ^but  don*t  you  see,  with  all  this,  she  is 

as  ugly  as  the  woman  of  Endor  ?" 

"  Carft  exactly  say  as  how  I  does." 

^'  Don't  you  see  something  devilish  behind 
all  this  beauty— a  demon  housed  in  a  woman — 
a  fiend  that  looks  through  her  eyes,  soils  the 
smile  on  her  lips— makes  the  blush  on  her  cheek 
like  a  canker — turns  all  her  charms  to  a  dis- 
ease, making  her  more  ugly  by  her  very  beauty. 
The  woman  is   false  and   transparent — I   see 


288  JACK    ASHORE. 

through  her,  but  the  devil  beneath  is  real — she 
is  uglier  than  sin — she  is  sin  herself." 

*^  Yes,  yes,  I  see  it  all  now,"^  said  bis  com- 
panion, wishing  to  soothe  him ;  **  she  is  precious 
ugly." 

^^  You  lie,  you  base  pickthank — you  lie, 
and  that  abominably  ! — she  is  beautiful  as  the 
young  day  ;"— then  bursting  into  tears,  he  sob- 

r 

bed  forth,  **  And  being  so  beautiful,  how  could 
she  be  so  bad  ?*' 

After  .his  passion  of  tears  had  a  little  sub- 
sided, he  continued,  "  I  am  not  here  to  pipe 
my  eye,  like  a  young  girl  who  has  just  lost 
her  linnet — the  ^*  bloody  hand^  is  the  emblem 
of  my  order — I  have  come  to  act — but  it's  not 
yet  time.     I  should  go  raving  mad,  did  I  find 
them  waking,  and  at  their  dalliance.     No,  no ; 
we  will  deal  gently  with  her,  poor  thing  !  when 
she  eats  the  bitter  bread  of  shame,  it   will  be 
piroishment  enough ;  for,  in  truth,  I  have  not 
been  good  to  her.     Perhaps  we  need  not  wake 
her  at  all — would  to  Heaven  that  we  could  do  it 
without !" 


JACK    ASHOBE.  1289 

*«  Do  what,  Sir  John  ?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  dreadful  —  nothing  bloody. 
They  are  sleeping  together— my  wife  and  my 
friend — and  the  law  of  man  says,  or  I  have 
heard  wrong — I  may  slay  them  together — mingle 
their  blood,  as  they  have  disgraced  mine.  This 
is  the  law  of  God,  as  delivered  by  Moses.  But 
this  I  will  not  do— for  I  have  not  been  good 
myself— but  I  must  not  father  the  children  of 
a  harlot  and  a  traitor*-so  I  shall  be  very  quiet, 
and  much  more  merciful  than  just-r-I  am  a 
poor  wretched  dupe,  but,  you  see,  a  cheerful 
one.  We  have  an  hour  to  spare  yet,  so  we'll 
be  comfortable.  Well  have  some  more  grog — 
but  we  must  not  get  drunk  again,  my  thrice 
worthy  confident — only  take  a  little  to  keep  off 
this  deadly  chill ;  and — besides — hark  ye — by 
that  time  the  moon  will  be  a  good  deal  down — 
and  I  would  not  have  too  much  light  on  our 
shame — I  have  loved  her,  you  devil — and  I 
would  spare  her  this  exposure,  if  I  could." 

"  Why  expose  her  at  all  ?    I'll  answer  for 

VOL.  III.  o 


290  JACK   ASHORE. 

heavydens  enough  to  get  jer  a  diTorce — take 
it  easy,  good  Sir  John*** 

^^  I  do,  mail — I  doi  but — **  and  he  grinned 

demoniacally,  *'  Whore,  is  she  dreaming  now  ? 

« 

Where,  where?" 

They  sipped  their  gro^  but  it  was  bitter  to 
them.  The  dog-fancier  tremUed  yexy  mucfat 
and  bad  already  heartily  relented  of  the  part 
he  had  taken.  He  was  much  alarmed  at 
the  whole  appearance  of  Sir  John — ^indeed  he 
said  afterwards,  that  if  he  had  not  lost  sight  of 
him,  but  for  so  short  a  time  since  he  made  the 
fatal  disclosure,  in  two  hours  he  was  so  much 
changed  that  he  should  not  have  known  him. 
The  time  lagged  heavily,  and  it  was  until 
two  o^clock  that  Sir  John  had  postponed  his 
acting. 

^'  Come,"  said  our  heroi,  *'  you  don^t  write 
the  best  scrawl — ^but  one  can  read  it — I  must 
do  something  or  begin  to  dance  about  like  a 
maniac.  Just  jot  down  all  I've  gained  by 
being  made  a  barpnet — I  should  like  to  balance 


JACK   ASHO&E.  291 

accounts — ^for  what  may  happen  the  next  hour 
is  known  only  to  the  Almighty.  Put  down,  I 
made  a  fool  of  myself  an  the  first  day — dis- 
gusted my  best  friend — drank  myself  to  the 
very  verge  of  madness — played  the  drivelling 
mountebank  before  all  Portsmouth — the  whole 
Channel  fleet  looking  on,  and  laughing  at  me — 
despised  and  hurt  the  affections  of  a  girl  who 
truly  loved  me  —  cheated  her  mother  —  got 
pelted  and  disgraced — arrested  for  debt — an 
action  brought  against  me  for  breach  of  pro- 
mise of  marriage — married  a  common  prostitute 
— was  the  cause  of  transporting  her  for  life — 
forced  to  sneak  away  from  Portsmouth  like  the 
paltry  ass  that  I  am — the  fool  at  the  sea-port 
was  thrice  the  fool  in  London — destroyed  the 
hopes  of  my  benefactor— got  his  wife^s  property 
thrown  into  Chancery,  where  it  will  remain  for 
ever  and  one  day  after-t-carried  mischief  where- 
ever  I  went-— got  into  two  duels,  and  myself  in 
the  wrong — ^instead  of  profiting  by  my  masters, 
went  into  evil  society,  took  to  low  courses,  hard 

o  2 


292  JACK    ASHORE. 

drinking,  and  squandered  my  property  on  such 
sneaking  lubbers  as  yourself." 

^'  Please,  Sir  John,  it's  agin  my  conscience 
to  write  down  such  a  big  lie  as  that  ere." 

^*  Well ;  say  I  squandered  my  wealth  on 
such  brilliant,  respectable,  and  virtuous  charac- 
ters as  Colonel  Chacehell  and  Groggy  Fox- 
head.  Then,  the  worst  folly  of  all — I  con- 
sulted my  eye,  and  not  my  heart,  when  I 
married — O  heavens! — and  when  at  last  I 
really  began  to  love — never  mind — since  I  have 
come  to  the  country — how  have  I  acted — ^who 
esteems  meP  who  respects  me? — what  an  excellent 
seaman  has  been  spoiled  to  make  a  miserable, 
wretched  man  of  quality  !  I  have  not  been 
twelve  months  on  shores  and  is  there  a  more 
suffering  wretch  than  myself  breathing  ?  O 
that  I  was  again  on  the  watch-bill  of  the  Old 
Glory,  and  all  that  has  taken  place  had  never 
been  !" 

**  I  could  jot  down  summut  on  toother  side, 
if  so  be  as  how  you'd  let  me.'* 


JACK    ASHORE.  293 


sc 


Do  it  to-morrow,  if  you  will — hark  !  It 
has  struck  two.  It  sounded  like  the  tolling  of 
the  bell  over  the  dead.  How  silent,  how  dread- 
fully, drearily  silent  it  is  !  Why  don't  you 
speak,  you  hound — hush — here,  take  this  pistol 
— don^t  shake,  man— you  see  I  am  quite  un- 
armed— ^go  up  softly  and  stand  at  his  door — 
you  know,  you  know.  His  name  would  choke 
me.  Suffer  no  one  to  come  out — ^not  even  her ; 
that  is  all — do  this,  and  your  reward  shall  be 
great" 

The  rat-catcher  shuddered  and  departed. 

Sir  John  then  gained  admittance  to  Mr. 
Singleheart's  bedside,  and  said  to  him  between 
his  teeth,  **  Lady  Truepenny  is  not  in  her  bed- 
room.    Turn  out" 

*'  I  feared  as  much,"  said  the  good  lawyer, 
as  he  shuffled  into  his  slippers,  and  wrapped 
his  dressing-gown  closely  about  him.  '*  But  do 
nothing  rash,  Sir  John." 

"  Never  fear — I  only  want  evidence— we 
wonH  hurt  a  hair  of  her  head — ^but  we'll  have 
plenty  of  evidence." 


294  JACK   A8H0EE. 

They  went  together  and  roused  young  Mr. 
Hawkins,  and  the  three  soon  found  themselves 
at  the  CoLonel'^s  bed-room  door,  where  the 
shivering  Foxhead  stood  an  unwilling  sentinel 
They  found  the  door  fastened.  It  was  an 
awful  moment,  and  Mr*  Singleheart  in  a  low 
whisper,  wishing  to  temporise^  advised  that  a 
watch  should  be  placed  there  until  the  mora- 
ing.  But  in  tliis  caution,  so  exaaperating  to 
Sir  John,  the  young  amanuensis  did  not  parti- 
cipate. He  and  Sir  John  simultaneously  united 
their  strength,  and,  with  one  sudden  crash,  the 
door  was  burst  open.  The  scene  was  dreadful — 
the  shriek  of  shame  terrific  Sit  John  looked 
not  on  his  wife,  but  using  all  the  power  of  his 
muscular  frame,  he  seized  the  Colonel,  and  lift- 
ing  up  his  slight  figure^  as  if  it  had  been  that 
of  a  child,  bore  him  across  the  room,  and  dash- 
ing him  through  the  window  frames  the  base 
seducer  lay  groaning  with  mangled  limbs  and 
broken  bones  beneath.  It  was  well  for  him 
that  the  snow  lay  so  deep  on  the  ground,  or  he 


JACK   A8H0RS.  295 

would  have  died  on  the  instant,  so  great  was 
the  height  from  which  he  had  been  dashed. 
For  the  short  remnant  of  his  miserable  life  he 
remained  a  disgusting  and  a  helpless  cripple. 

The  shattering  of  the  glass  and  the  shrieks 
of  the  mangled  Ccdonel  were  still  mingling 
with  the  wild  screams,  of  Lady  Truepenny, 
when  a  figure  in  a  night*dress  just  showed  itself 
within  the  door  of  the  room.  It  caught  Sir 
John^s  eye,  and  he  shouted  high  above  the  din, 
**  My  arch  enemy  !^  and  rushed  after  it.  The 
pursued  fled  for  his  life.  It  was  Mr.  Scrivener, 
who  had  been,  for  some  time,  domesticated 
in  the  house,  without  the  knowledge  of  its 
master.  Sir  John,  in  his  eagerness,  fell  over 
the  sentinel  at  the  door,  and  when  he  arose, 
his  victim  was  not  to  be  seen  ;  but  his  pursuer, 
hearing  the  hall-door  open  and  close,  fancied 
he  had  left  the  house,  and  rushed  out  after 
him.  Long  and  mad  was  that  pursuit  of  no- 
thing. The  winds  arose,  and  the  wreaths  of 
snow  that  danced  before  his  frantic  eyes  misled 


296  JACK   ASHORE. 

the  DOW  actual  maniac,  all  the  livelong  nigbt, 
over  the  country  and  through  the  dreary  woods. 
It  was  not  till  next  mid-day  that  he  was  dis- 
covered sitting  in  a  miserable  hovel,  tearing  to 
pieces,  with  tooth  and  nail,  the  decayed  corpse 
of  a  robber  who  had  been  hung  in  chains,  and 
which  he  fancied  to  be  his  father-in-law.  He 
was  raving  mad. 


JACK    A8H0BE.  297 


CHAPTER  XV. 


Rays  of  hope  and  comfort — Old  and  true  friends  re>appear — 
Jack  escapes— Goes  to  sea— Conclosion. 

A  WHOLE  year  has  elapsed,  and  it  is  the  anni- 
versary day  of  June  on  which  Jack  stepped  on 
shore  at  Portsmouth,  in  high  health,  and  in  the 
perfection  of  manhood,  a  baronet — with  every 
prospect  before  him  that  wealth,  station,  and 
an  almost  unfettered  free  will  could  offer.  Be- 
hold what  he  now  is  I 

But  we  must  first  state  that  Mr.  Scrivener 
never  left  the  house,  and  when  Sir  John  was 
brought  back  a  maniac,  took  possession  of  all, 

o5 


S98  JACK  ABHORS. 

and  the  direcdon  of  everything.  Lady  True- 
penny recovered  her  equanimity  surprisingly ; 
and  when,  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  the 
almost  djring  Colonel  was  removed  from  the 
hall,  she  seemed  not  only  never  to  have  cared 
for  him,  but  often  spoke  of  him  with  con- 
tempt. 

Mr.  Singleheart  and  the  young  amanuensis 
knew  not  how  tO'  act  Lord  Fortintower  was 
in  a  distant  country,  and  Mr.  Scrivener  was 
subtle  and  active.  A  writ  de  lunaiioo  inqm- 
rendo  on  Sir  John  Truepenny  was  immediately 
issued,  and  the  madness  being  apparent,  the 
jury  found  no  hesitation  in  saying  so,  and  the 
custody  of  his  person  and  the  management  of  his 
property  very  naturally  fell  to  his  wife  and  father* 

« 

in-law.  That  unworthy  pair  abandoned  Fortin- 
tower Hall,  and,  coming  to  London,  made  a 
great  display,  and  became  highly  fashionable. 

As  Mr.  Scrivener  punished  every  rumour  to 
their  disadvantage  by  prosecutions  under  the 
libel  law,  and  the  servants  who  had  been  witnesses 


JACK   ASHORE.  299 

of  the  disgrace  of  the  d6nouemeni  were  well 
paid  and  provided  for.  Lady  Truepenny  en- 
joyed as  good  a  reputation  as  did  most  of  the 
ladies  of  ton.  Indeed,  the  heartless  beauty 
was  not  only  tolerated,  but  courted  and  flat" 
tered,  and  both  she  and  her  father  now  sunned 
themselves  ia  the  midday  of  their  prosperity. 

Madhouses  are  not  places  of  enjoyment  at 
present— formerly  they  were  improvements  upon 
the  infernal  regions.  Poor  Jack  was  immured 
in  one  of  the  worst^-but  where,  was  a  secret 
known  only  to  his  wife  and  father-in-law — and 
that  secret  was  penetrated  only  by  the  in- 
tense, unswerving  love  of  a  woman  whose  love 
was  true. 

It  was  a  beautiful  day  in  June,  and  in  his 
desolate  cell,  with  ring-bolts  around  him,  straw 
beneath  him,  and  chains  upon  him,  poor,  poor 
Jack  sate  between  two  persons.  His  once  mus- 
cular frame  was  gaunt,  and  his  sinews  seemed 
like  so  many  cords  laced  about  his  massive 
skeleton.    He  had  been  very  violent,  and  his 


300  JACK    ASHORE. 

back  was  wealed  with  the  blows  that  had  beoi 
administered  to  tame  him.  Gkxl,  and  his 
troubles,  for  wise  purposes,  had  deprived  him 
of  his  reason ;  but  his  own  wife  and  father-in- 
law,  for  wicked  ones,  had  deprived  him  of  his 
name— he  was  called  here  John  Jones*— and 
this  was  the  third  madhouse  of  which  he  had 
been  an  inmate.  He  had  been  removed  from 
one  to  another,  and  his  name  changed  for  the 
most  villanous  designs.  He  was  now  in  a 
remote  part  of  the  country,  where  it  was  sup- 
posed he  never  could  be  traced.  It  is  a  matter 
of  little  doubt  but  that  he  would  have  been 
systematically  murdered,  had  not  his  estates 
been  so  strictly  entailed,  and  her  moderate 
jointure  the  only  benefit  that  would  accrue  to 
Lady  Truepenny  on  the  death  of  her  hus> 
band. 

There  had  been  some  favourable  symptoms 
lately  in  Jack^s  case.  Indeed,  the  doctors  had 
always  said  that  his  malady  was  not  constitu- 
tional— that  it  had  been  produced  only  by  ex- 


JACK    ASHORE.  301 

cessive  excitement  acting  upon  habitual  in- 
temperance.  However,  just  now,  the  ill-used 
sufferer  was  troubled  very  little  with  doctors 
or  their  opinions.  He  was  in  the  hands  of  a 
mercenary  rascal,  who  looked  not  to  his  cure^ 
but  to  his  safe  custody. 

In  his  cell  was  Jack  sitting  on  this  memora- 
ble day ;  the  person  on  his  right  was  an  old 
weather-beaten,  grayheaded  man,  with  some- 
thing of  the  sailor  in  his  appearance,  but  not 
much ;  he  was  sitting  on  the  floor,  with  a  pair 
of  large  iron-rimmed  spectacles  on  his  nose, 
and  a  large  Bible  open  on  his  knees  before  him, 
from  which  he  was  reading,  in  a  very  solemn 
but  somewhat  monotonous  tone,  the  account  of 
Jonah's  unfortunate  voyage  to  Ninevah.  The 
other  person  was  a  young  female,  dressed,  if 
not  quite  like  a  quakeress,  yet  with  a  degree  of 
precision  that  spoke  of  a  distaste  to  worldly 
vanities ;  she  was  exceedingly  beautiful,  though 
very  pale;    she  held   the   patient's  emaciated 


\ 


302  JACK   ASHORS. 

hand  fondly  in  her  own,  and  was  looking  in- 
tently and  tenderly  into  his  large  bine  eyes. 

When  the  elderly  man  came  to  the  words, 
and  read,  *'  But  Jonah  was  gone  down  into  the 
sides  of  the  ship^"  Jack  said,  ^  ^Vast  there, 
shipmate,  you  mean  into  the  hold." 

The  female  flushed  all  over,  and  trembled 
exceedingly.  These  were  the  first  words  he 
had  uttered  in  sensible  connexion  with  what 
was  passing  about  him.  '*  Hush  !"  said  she, 
**  be  silent^  and  wait.** 

Jack  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  looked  about  him, 
and  then  upon  his  two  companions;  rubbed 
them  again,  and  again  looked — ^but  what  he 
saw  seemed  to  afford  him  no  satisfaction,  for  he 
shook  his  head  despondingly. 

The  old  man  closed  his  Bible  gently;  he 
could  see  no  more,  for  his  eyes  were  overflow- 
ing with  tears. 

She  then  tried  distant  allusions  to  awake  in 
Jack  the  remembrance  of  the  past,  and  thus  to 


JACK    ASHOSE.  303 

connect  it  with  a  rational  consideration  of  the 
present.  There  was  an  old  song  to  which,  as 
she  fancied  that  it  shadowed  out  her  own  case, 
she  was  very  partial ;  and  as  it  was  very  simple 
in  its  construction,  she  soon  taught  the  man  she 
idolized  to  love  it  also. 

The  following  are  the  words,  which  she  sang, 
in  a  subdued  voice,  to  a  slow  and  somewhat 
plaintive  tune: — 

1. 

I  bad  a  young  sister 

Who  dwelt  beyond  sea. 
And  many  the  lore-gifts 

She  sent  onto  me : 
She  sent  me  a  cherry 

Without  any  stone. 
She  sent  me  a  doye  too 

Without  any  bone 
She  sent  me  an  orange 

Without  any  rind ; 
Bade  me  love  without  passion 

The  man  of  my  mind. 


304  JACX    A8HOBE. 


How  coald  any  cherry 

Be  found  without  stone  1 
How  could  a  young  dove  too 

Exist  without  bone  1 
How  could  any  orange 

Be  found  without  rind  1 
Or  a  young  maiden  loriog 

Cast  passion  behind  1 

Yihea  the  cherry  was  flower. 

Then  had  it  no  stone ; 
When  .the  dove  was  an  egg. 

Then  had  it  no  bone ; 
When  the  orange  was  blossom. 

Then  had  it  no  rind  ; 
In  the  first  love  of  maiden 

No  passion  we  find. 

This  song  made  Jack  restless,  and,  at  times, 
seemed  to  afford  him  some  glimpses  of  what 
was  really  passing  around  him ;  but  these  were 


JACK   ASHOK£.  305 

transitory,  and  he  again  relapsed  into  uncon- 
sciousness. 

The  female  then  commenced  singing  a  low 
and  plaintive  sea  song,  "  Far,  far  at  sea,"  for- 
merly Jack^s  particular  favourite.  The  first 
notes  seemed  to  surprise  him ;  he  then  lay  back 
against  the  wall  of  his  cell  and  closed  his  eyes, 
but  waved  his  hand  to  the  undulations  of  the 
air.  At  the  second  verse  he  shed  tears  pro- 
fusely, and  when  it  was  finished  he  sat  upright, 
and  looked  upon  both  of  them  wistfully.  At 
last  he  said,  **  Where  am  I  ? — this  should  be 
honest  old  Giles  Grimm,  and  this  dear,  dear 
little  Susan.*" 

For  some  time  neither  of  them  could  speak 
from  excess  of  emotion.  At  length  Susan  said, 
*'  You  have  been  very  ill,  John ;  you  must  not 
talk  yet ;  do  try  to  sleep — ^you  will  be  so  happy 
now— only  sleep." 

**  Susan,  you  never  spoke  to  poor  Jack  but 
for  his  good ;  I  will  sleep,  if  each  of  you  will 
keep  hold  of  my  hand— I  have  lost  you  for 


906  JACK   ASHORE* 

many  years,  and  we  must  never  any  of  us  part 
again — never — never —never !"    and,  murmar- 
ing  these  words,  he  fell  into  a  happy  and  tran- , 
quil  slumber. 

After  some  rime  be  awoke  a  little  confused 
in  his  mind  as  to  past  events,  but  quite  ra- 
tionaL  At  first,  he  fancied  himsdf  on  board 
the  Glory,  and  that  he  had  been  put  in  irons 
for  some  misdemeanor,  and  asked  if  he  had 
been  cook  of  the  mess,  and  if  Captain  Fire- 
brass  was  very  savage;  bat  by  dq;rees^  and 
with  admirable  tact  and  delicacy,  Susan  made 
him  aware  of  his  actual  situation. 

Jack  was  broken-spirited  and  excessively 
weakened,  so  it  must  not  be  an  impugnment 
to  his  manhood  that  he  cried  like  a  child,  and, 
like  a  child^  for  some  time,  would  not  be  com- 
forted. He  viewed  the  chain  round  his  waist, 
and,  in  very  truth,  the  iron  entered  his  soul. 

When  he  entreated  for  his  liberty  and  some 
decent  apparel,  his  friends  acquainted  him  that 
it  was  absolutely  necessary  that,  for  the  present. 


JACK    ASHORE.  307 

his  keepers  should  not  be  apprised  of  his  re- 
covery ;  and  that  if  he  would  be  in  all  things 
obedient,  there  was  for  him  the  hope  of  imme- 
diate freedom*  They  cautioned  him,  when  the 
keeper  made  his  rounds,  which  would  be 
shortly,  to  appear  to  be  sullen,  and  on  no  ac- 
count to  speak. 

Freedom  I  The  word  was  like  the  gushing 
forth  of  a  spring  of  water  to  his  feverish  soul. 
He  promised,  and  then  Susan,  kissing  his 
hand,  tripped  away.  The  miserable  man  fol- 
lowed  her  with  his  eyes,  and,  when  she  disap- 
peared,  shuddered  with  apprehension.  At 
length  he  turned  to  Grimm,  and  said  to  him, 
^*  Dear  father,  may  I  speak  a  little  .^" 

**  No,  you  must  hold  on  all  fast—- I'm  one  of 
the  keepers,  and  I  am  to  start  you  preciously 
if  you  ain't  quiet." 

"  O  my  living  God !  has  it  come  to  this  ? 
But  I  wUl  speak,  if  you — ^you — ^my  heart's 
brother — my  old  father — were  to  cut  my  heart 
out — I  will  speak.    Where  is  Susan  gone  ?" 


308  JACK    ASHORE. 

/^  That   angel   has  gone  to  look  after  the 
other  patients.     Jack,  hold  your  tongue,  and  be 

d d  to  you ;  if  any  one  oomes,  mind  your 

eye — ^look  a  little  wicked  or  so.  The  Lord  love 
yoU|  my  dear  boy,  d'ye  think  I  ever  laid  hand 
on  you  ?  No,  ray  darUng,  when  you  have  been 
most  rombusticus,  I  have  only  held  you  in  my 
arms,  and  tried  to  stifle  your  cries  by  my  own 
voice.  That  thong  has  never  yet  touched  you, 
though  I  am  forced  to  have  it  by  me.  Now 
don't  ye  talk — I  suppose  I  may — I  should  have 
known  nothing  of  your  having  lost  the  com- 
mand of  your  helm,  hadn^t  it  a  been  for 
Susan.*" 

*^  God  Almighty  bless  her  with  all  good- 
ness—-with  all  prosperity  —  I  can't  help  it, 
father !'' 

*'  Amen !  but  trouble  enough  she  had  to 
trace  you  from  one  den  of  darkness  to  another, 
and  here  she  is — ^got  herself  hired  at  low  wages 
as  nurse.  She  is  Susan  Smith  here,  and  I'm 
her  father — proud  of  the  title.  Jack ;    so  she 


JACK    ASHORE.  309 

got  me  the  place  of  under-keeper — she  wound 
round  the  heart  of  the  hang-dog  who  calls 
himself  captain  of  this  craft  of  misery.  Though 
I've  lived  so  long,  she  is  seven  times  wiser  than 
I ;  and  nothing  shall  be  done  but  as  she  directs 
—hush  !" 

At  this  moment,  the  ferocious-looking  pro- 
prietor of  the  madhouse  made  his  appearance ; 
he  looked  angry,  and,  what  was  worse,  suspi- 
cious. Jack  put  on  a  grimace  diabolically 
wicked,  old  Grimm  had  his  Bible  open  in  a 
moment,  and  was  poring  over  it  through  his 
spectacles. 

*'  What  talking  was  that  I  heard  ?^ 
Talking,  yer  honour,"  said  the  old  man  ; 

I  was  merely  reading  the  Bible  aloud — it 
seems  to  soothe  the  patient  like — he^s  always 
quietest  when  I  reads  him  a  chapter." 

^'  The  lash,  man  !  the  lash  is  the  thing/'  So 
saying,  he  passed  on. 

If  the  recording  angel  blotted  out  my  uncle 
Toby's  oath  with  a  tear,   must  he  not   have 


310  JACK  ASHORE. 

rubbed  out  the  old  sailor's  lie  with  an  apprcnr- 
ing  smile,  although  it  was  told  over  the  BiUe — 
especially  as  the  honest  creature  immediately 
afterwards  exclaimed,  ^  God  forgive  me  for 
lying,  with  his  precious  word  on  my  knees  ?** 

Shortly  afterwards  Susan  returned,  and  found 
Jack  so  composed  and  rational^  that  she  ven- 
tured to  give  him  some  nourishing  food,  whidi 
he  ate  ravenously,  and  proceeded  to  release 
him  from  his  chain.  How  fervently  the  perse- 
cuted wretch  blessed  her  in  his  heart  I 

All  the  livelong  day  she  was  in  and  out  of 
his  cell,  smiling  peacefully  and  conversing 
cheerfully ;  all  subjects  of  painful  interest  she 
carefully  avoided ;  and  to  every  question  that 
Jack  put  about  past  occurrences,  her  only  reply 
was,  ^*  Wait  till  to-morrow,  when  we  are  at 
liberty.'*  This  so  |deasantly  tempered  disap- 
pointment with  the  sweetest  hope,  that  the 
inquirer  was  satisfied. 

That  evening  Susan  also  told  a  story,  and  we 
hope  that  she  too  had  a  good-natured  recording 


JACK    ASHOBB.  811 

angely  for  she  report^  to  the  head-keeper  and 
to  the  medical  visiter^  ^  No  alteration  in  John 
Jones," 

The  next  morning  Jack  was  not  only  collected, 
but  renovated.  To  deceive  the  people  of  the 
establishment,  he  consented  to  be  again  fastened 
up»  but  he  walked  about  as  much  as  the  limits 
of  his  chain  would  permit,  anxiously  inquiring 
when  he  should  be  allowed  to  escape — profess^ 
ing  himself  to  be  equal  to  walk  fifty  miles  at 
least  He  was  told  to  wait  till  night,  and  do 
all  he  could  to  acquire  strength* 

During  the  course  of  the  day  he  was  grap 
dually  informed  that  all  his  property  was  under 
the  administration  of  his  wife  and  father-in-law, 
and  that  it  would  require  the  greatest  care  and 
attention  on  his  part  legally  to  prove  his  sanity, 
and  to  regain  the  direction  of  his  own  affairs. 
"  And  noWf  my  dear  John,*^  said  Susan,  "  since 
I  have  done  something  for  you,  do  you  some- 
thing for  me  in  return — make  me  a  promise^'* 

*'  All,  all  that  I  have^   is  yours — my  life 


312  JACK   ASHOBE. 

now,  my  property  when  I  get  it — henceforth  I 
will  not  break  a  crust  of  bread,  nor  drink  a  cup 
of  water,  but  with  your  leave  and  by  your 
bounty-" 

**  No,  uOf  I  only  ask  you  to  forswear  intem- 
perance.'' 

**  I  swear  solemnly,^  said  he,  going  upon  his 
knees,  *^  not  a  drop  of  spirits,  not  a  taste  of 
wine,  not  even  the  moisture  of  any  strong  drink, 
shall  pass  these  lips,  even  if  life — *"* 

«  Hold,  hold  !*'  said  she,  "  I  will  not  have 
this  oath — it  will  break  itself.  Swear  only 
never  more  to  get  intoxicated." 

**  I  swear  it !  May  Heaven  assist  me  to  keep 
my  oath  P 

**  Use  the  Creator^s  gifts  freely,  yet  dis- 
creetly. The  grape  was  never  made  to  bloom 
on  the  vine,  only  to  ripen  into  maturity  and  rot. 
Only  promise  me,  John,  the  moment  that  you 
find  yourself  the  least  heated,  to  pronounce  the 
word  madness ;  and  should  the  evil  that's  in 
you  induce  you  to  take  another  cup,  only  say 


JACK   ASHORE.  313 

'  Susan/   and    then,  dear    John,  break    your 
oath  if  you  can/' 

"  I  could  not.  All  this  I  solemnly  pro* 
mise. 

'*  I  am  satisfied — it  would  be  well,  if  for  the 
next  six  months  you  regulated  your  diet  entire- 
ly  by  the  advice  of  a  physician.^ 

**  This  also  will  I  scrupulously  do.** 

Sir  John  then  fell  into  a  melancholy  musing, 
and  at  length  he  sorrowfully  said,  **  So  every 
thing  is  gone.  The  lawyer  with  his  dragon's 
claws  has  everything.  My  yacht,  my  beautiful 
yacht — I  hope  she  was  not  broken  up?" 

Old  Giles  stood  bolt  upright ;  he  took  off  his 
spectacles,  and  put  them  in  his  pocket  proudly, 
as  if  he  wanted  them  no  more — he  hitched  up 
his  trousers,  and  slapped  the  seat  of  them  with 
his  right  hand,  and  placed  his  left  arm  a- 
kimbo ;  then  he  sprang  up  and  cut  a  very  re- 
spectable caper ;  he  was  twenty  years  younger 
in  a  moment ;  he  then  grinned — the  grin  be- 
came a  chuckle — the  chuckle  a  laugh,  and  the 

VOL.  III.  p 


314  JACK    ASHORE. 

luugh  such  a  shout  of  triumph,  that  Susan  was 
forced  to  thrust  a  handkerchief  half  down  bis 
throat,  to  prevent  him  alarming  the  other 
keepers. 

"  My  son,"  said  he,  "  *  The  Lively  Ann**  is  all 
a  tanto.  I  got  timely  notice  of  the  law-sharks. 
All  that  angel's  doing,  I  believe.  I  up  killick 
and  away.  I  ses,  ses  I,  to  my  pretty  boys, — 
'  They Ve  driven  the  governor  mad,  those  land- 
sharks,  they  have — he'll  come  to  again — and 
should  he  find  his  craft  got  into  the  lawyer's 
grab,  he^U  be  off  stark  again — wages  be  d  d,^ 
ses  I,  *  in  this  here  predicament'  *  Wages  be 
d— d,'  said  they  all,  men  and  boys.  Well,  we 
agreed  to  keep  her  right  and  tight  for  you— so 
away  we  went  — well,  down  Channel  we  goes — 
and  when  I  gets  to  Truro,  I  writ  to  your  good 
man,  Mr.  Singlebeart,  and  told  him  what  we'd 
done.  So  he  writes  back  and  says,  we've  done  the 
illegal  thing — that  he  couldn'^t  know  nothing 
about  it — ^it  was  a  bad  business — that  he  should 
not  be  surprised  to  hear  that  the  craft  bad  been 


JACK   ASHOBfi.  815 

taken  by  a  French  privateer — that  there  were  some 
snug  little  coves  in  the  Hebrides — that  he  rather 
thought  Sir  John  was  indebted  to  the  crew  for 
pay  and  provisions,  so  he  forwarded  a  bank 
bill  for  two  hundred  and  fifty — that  he  advised 
us  to  give  the  property  up  to  your  representa- 
tivesi  if  we  were  not    taken — but  he  really 
thought  that  if  you  recovered,  it  would  break 
your  heart  to  find  the  vessel  gone;  but  he  could 
say  no  more  on  the  matter,  and  must  not  be 
again  written  to  about  it — that  if  I  called  at 
the  banker's  at  Truro  three  months  hence,  and 
said  who  I  was,  I  might  hear  of  something; 
and  so  he  bid  God  to  speed  me,  and  pray  for 
your  recovery." 

"  Excellent,  ill-used  man  !  and  what  then  ?" 
«'  I  put  the  end  of  that  and  that  together— 
so  I  victuals  the  beauty,  and  oflFers  the  chaps 
their  wages  in  advance — true-blue  Jacks — 
wouldn't  take  a  scuddick — so  up  anclior  and 
off.    Just  gets  in  the  Chops  of  the  Channel, 

p  3 


316  JACK   A8H0RK. 

and  hails  a  homeward    bound  West   logian. 

*  What's  that  craft  ?  says  she.  <  The  Twitchem 
yacht,*  says  L  '  What  news  ?'  says  she.  ^  Bad 
enough,'  says  I ;  *  our  consort,  the  Lively  Ann, 
Sir  John  Truepenny's  yacht,  was  captured  this 
morning  by  two  French  lugger  privateers;  look 
to  yourself;  why  did  you  leave  your  convoy  ?' 

*  Ran  ahead  to  get  the  choice  of  the  market,' 

« 

says  he.  '  More  fool  you,'  says  I.  *  Keep  me 
company,'  says  he,  *  till  I  meet  a  man  of  war« 
and  I'll  give  you  a  couple  o'  turtle  and  a  cask 
of  rum,  for  a  rakish  looking  craft  you  are.' 
Well,  the  bargain  was  struck,  we  got  the  turtle 
and  the  stuff,  and  I  sees  her  safe  right  into  the 
Channel  Fleet — spied  the  Old  Glory,  hauls  my 
wind,  and  ran  off  like  a  shot — ^and  in  eight  and 
forty  hours  runs  the  craft  into  a  snug  cove  in 
one  of  the  Orkneys,  that  I  believe  hasnU  got  a 
nam^  for  there  is  nothing  living  upon  the 
island  but  sea-gulls ;  and  there  the  lads  have 
nothing  all  day  to  do  but  play  at  quoits  and 


JACK   ASHORE.  317 

skittles.     The  story  of  the  yacht  being  taken 
went  through  all  the  papers." 

'*  I  wish  I  was  on  board  of  her.  But  how 
came  you  to  find  me  out,  father  ?** 

''  Couldn't  be  comfortable  till  I  heard  of 
you — ran  over  to  Plymouth— landed  myself,, 
went  to  Portsmouth  and  saw  Mother  Snowdrop 
and  our  angel  Sue — we  searched  you  out  from 
place  to  place^  and  here  we  are." 

^^O  that  we  were  on  board  the  Lively 
Anne !" 

That  night  the  three  walked  quietly  out 
from  this  den  of  iniquity — as  Susan  had  a  pass- 
key, and  had  provided  Jack  with  a  complete 
suit  of  sailor^s  clothes.  The  exulting  happiness 
of  our  hero  was  indescribable^  but  he  kept  his 
transports  admirably  under  command.  Having 
plenty  of  money,  the  party  made  a  few  detours, 
and  travelled  easily  and  fared  well.  In  the 
space  of  a  week  they  reached  Portsmouth, 
where  Susan  was  left  with  her  mother.  The 
two  friends,  by  the  means  of  a  coasting  vessel. 


318  /ACK  ASHORE. 

got  to  Liverpool,  from  whence^  hiring  a  decked 
boat,  they  made  for  the  Orkneys^  and  in  less 
than  a  fortnight  Jack  was  again  gloriously 
happy  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  his  health  and 
his  faculties,  and  the  command  of  the  ^  Lively 
Anne."* 

At  this  time  Mr.  Scrivener  and  Lady  True- 
penny were  lapped  in  luxurious  security,  for 
the  madhouse  keeper  had  not  dared  to  make 
known  Jack's  escape. 

Jack  himself  would  have  given  them  but 
little  trouble.  He  was  so  superlatively  happy 
when  again  afloat,  that  he  could  listen  to 
nothing  about  land,  or  the  land's  doings.  No 
sooner  was  he  fairly  on  board  the  yacht  than 
he  put  to  sea,  and  carefully  kept  out  of  sight 
of  shore.  In  this  way  he  passed  two  months, 
the  happiest  of  the  happy ;  and  the  first  uneasy 
moment  he  experienced  was,  when  he  was 
obliged  to  near  the  shore  for  provisions.  He 
dreaded  the  very  sight  of  it,  and  was  a  little 
inclined  to  change  his  name,  and  enter  on 
board  some  man-of-war  going  foreign. 


JACK    ASHORE.  319 

At  length,  when  his  water  was  all  gone,  he 
put  into  Plymouth,  and  there  he  was  induced 
to  write  to  Mr.  Singleheart.  He  came  to  him 
immediately,  and  the  good  man's  joy  was  ex- 
cessive to  find  his  client  so  perfectly  restored, 
and  in  such  excellent  health ;  the  voyage  had 
completely  re-established  him.  But  it  was 
now  time  for  action.  Jack  begged  hard  for 
another  cruise,  but  the  lawyer  gained  his 
point.  With  tears  in  his  eyes,  Jack  saw  the 
yacht  sail  without  him,  and  he  went  to  town  with 
his  lawyer.  Lord  and  Lady  For  tin  tower  had 
lately  arrived,  and  to  them  Sir  John  repaired,  and 
with  them  remained  incognito.  We  have  now 
no  time  to  chronicle  rejoicings,  or  to  expatiate 
on  explanations. 

The  first  notice  that  Mr.  Scrivener  received 
that  things  were  not  going  on  smoothly,  was 
his  being  served  with  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus 
to  produce  the  body  of  Sir  John  Truepenny. 
This  was  at  the  instance  of  Lord  Fortintower. 
It  then  transpired  that  Sir  John  ^had  escaped- 


320  JACK   ASHORE. 

The  next  proceeding  was   the  summoning  of 
another  jury  upon  Jack's  intellects.     It  was  a 
trying  ordeal,  but  he   bore  it  manfully  and 
coolly.     It  took  place  at  his  lordship^     Scri- 
vener had  the  hardihood  to  attend  it,  and  with 
counsel.    It  was  fatal  to  him.    In  endeavouring 
to  stop  Lord  Fortintower^  or  rather  Jack's 
counsel,  in  the  examination  of  a  witness  who  was 
fast  proving  that  Mr.  Scrivener  had  connived 
at  his  own  daughter's  adultery,  and  that  that  was 
the  proximate  cause  of  Sir  John's  temporary 
derangement,  he   was  seized  with  a  fit,  and 
removed  from  the  court  in  a  state  of  insensi- 
bility, which,  in  twenty-four  hours,  terminated 
in  his  death.     The  verdict  was  unanimous  in 
^  favour  of  Sir  John's  complete  re-establishment, 
and  the  star  of  his  prosperity  was  again  in  the 
ascendant     He  had  now  grown  wise^  and  was 
moderate  in  all  things. 

A  suit  for  criminal  conversation  was  institu- 
ted against  Colonel  Chacehell :  the  feeble 
cripple  shortly  afterwards  died  in  the  jail  for 


JACK   A8H0BE.  321 

which  he  had  been  cast  for  the  damages; 
whilst  Lady  Truepenny,  coming  into  possession 
of  her  father's  wealth,  seemed  not  only  to  be 
contented  with  her  lot,  but  to  live  in  great 
happiness.  A  divorce  followed  in  due  time, 
and,  at  last.  Sir  John  did  that  which  he  should 
have  done  at  first — married  Susan  Snowdrop, 
and,  putting  himself  completely  under  her 
directions,  became  a  very  respectable  coun- 
try gentleman;  and  she  prepared  him,  after 
two  years'  tuition  and  probation,  to  represent 
his  own  borough  in  parliament  It  is  very 
true  that  he  became  a  great  deal  too  fond  of 
yachting ;  but  as  his  wife  liked  it,  it  shall  not 
be  we  who  will  be  severe  in  our'  condemna* 
tion. 

With  Mr.  Scrivener  died  all  difficulty  about 
the  Truepenny  will.  The  property  devolved 
upon  Lord  Fortintower.  Old  grandfather 
Truepenny  passed  away  very  happily,  having 
lived  to  bless  two  great  grandchildren,  both 
boys ;  and  as  Lord  Fortintower  rapidly  rose  to 


322  JACK   A8H0BE. 

marquis,  and,  though  very  old,  may  still  live 
to  be  duke,  he  became  the  most  amiable  of 
men,  the  most  attached  of  husbands,  the  best 
of  fathers,  and  the  most  loyal  of  subjects. 

Old  G^mm  got  immensely  fat  before  be  died, 
but  he  died  comfortably,  having  died  at  sea, 
with  the  consciousness  that  he  would  be  buried 
in  that  element  on  which  he  had  loved  to  live. 

Sir  John  and  Lord  Fortintower  for  many 
years  increased  their  families,  d  Penm  Vun  de 
rautre — but  Jack  beat  his  cousin  in  the  long- 
run  by  two,  which  is  to  him  one  source  of  great 
exultation  ;  another  is,  that  he  might  be  a  lord 
any  day  he  likes,  but  he  leaves  that  folly  for  his 
eldest  son  Jack,  now  a  post-captain.  However, 
he  envies  old  Grimm  the  place  of  his  death,  and 
the  manner  of  his  burial,  and  don't  half  like 
the  look  of  the  family  vault. 

Though  Susan  was  humbly  bom,  and  at  first 
wretchedly  educated,  she  adorned  her  rank,  and 
made  the  happiness,  not  only  of  her  husband,  but 
that  of  all  who  came  within    her  influence. 


JACK    ASUOAE.  323 

She  has  always  endeavoured  to  impress  this  on 
her  children — that  it  is  more  easy  to  bear  up 
against  misfortune,  than  to  support  prosperity ; 
that  man's  prudence  and  his  powers  are  tried 
by  the  former,  but  his  very  soul  by  the  latter ; 
and  that  more  woe  and  misery  is  to  be  guarded 
against  from  one  sudden  and  unexpected  good, 
than  from  a  whole  train  of  foreseen  evils. 

She  was  right ;  for  adversity  tries  a  man, 
prosperity  spoils  him  ;  and  Pope  was  quite  cor- 
rect when  he  wrote, 

For  Satan,  grown  mnoh  wiser  tban  of  yore. 
Now  tempts  bj  making  rich,  not  making  poor. 


THK   END. 


LONDON! 

2BOT60N  AND  PALMER,   PRIMTSRS,  SAVOT   8T&XST,  BTRA2«D. 


*     • 


V 


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