"What did they consist of?" inquired Monsieur de Fontanges.
"A large trunk, containing the wearing apparel of a female and a child: there were also several orders of knighthood, and some jewels; but I hardly know what they were, as it is some time since I have looked at them."
"How strange that you could find no clue to discover the names of the parties!"
"There were French letters," replied Newton, "which I could not read; they were only signed by initials, which did not correspond with the marks on the linen belonging to the lady, although the surname might have been the same as that of the child."
"Do you recollect the initials?"
"Perfectly well: the marks on the lady's apparel were L.C., that on the linen of the infant J.F."
"Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" cried Monsieur de Fontanges; "then it may indeed have been the apparel of the Marquise de Fontanges. The linen must have been some marked with her maiden name, which was Louise de Colmar. The child was christened Julie de Fontanges, after her grandmother. My poor brother had intended to take his passage home in the same vessel, his successor being hourly expected; but the frigate in which the new governor had embarked was taken by an English squadron, and my brother was forced to remain here."
"Then the property must undoubtedly belong to the marquis," replied Newton: "I only wish I could have been able to assure him that his wife and child were equally safe; but that I am afraid is impossible, as there can be no doubt but that they were all lost. Do you mean to communicate what I have told you to the marquis?"
"By no means: it will only tear open a wound which has but partially healed. If you will send me all the particulars when you return I shall feel much obliged, not that the effects are of any consequence. The marquise and her child are undoubtedly lost; and it could be no consolation to my brother to ascertain that a trunk of their effects had been saved."
Here the conversation dropped, and was never again renewed.
Newton was heartily welcomed again at Lieu Désiré, where he remained three weeks, when a note from the governor informed him that a cartel was about to sail.
It was with mutual pain that Newton and his kind friends took their farewell of each other. In this instance M. de Fontanges did not accompany him to Basse Terre, but bade him adieu at his own door. Newton, soon after he was on the road, perceived that M. de Fontanges had acted from a motive of delicacy, that he might not receive the thanks of Newton for two valises, well furnished, which overtook Newton about a quarter of a mile from the plantation, slung on each side of a horse, under the guidance of a little negro, perched on the middle. Newton made his acknowledgments to the governor for his kind consideration, then embarked on board of the Marie Thérèse schooner, and in three days he once more found himself on shore in an English colony; with which piece of information I conclude this chapter.
Chapter XXII
"Mercy on us! a bairn, a very pretty bairn,
A boy, a child."
SHAKESPEARE.
When Newton was landed from the cartel at Jamaica, he found the advantage of not being clad in the garb of a sailor, as all those who were in such costume were immediately handed over to the admiral of the station, to celebrate their restoration to liberty on board of a man-of-war; but the clothes supplied to him by the generosity of M. de Fontanges had anything but a maritime appearance, and Newton was landed with his portmanteaus by one of the man-of-war's boats, whose crew had little idea of his being a person so peculiarly suited to their views, possessing as he did the necessary qualifications of youth, activity, and a thorough knowledge of his profession. Newton was so anxious to return home, that after a few days' expensive sojourn at an hotel, frequented chiefly by the officers of the man-of-war in port, he resolved to apply to the captain of a frigate ordered home with despatches, to permit him to take a passage. He had formed a slight intimacy with some of the officers, who assured him that he would experience no difficulty in obtaining his request. His application was made in person; and after his statement that he had been released in the last cartel which had come from Guadaloupe, his request was immediately granted, without any further questions being put relative to his profession, or the manner in which he had been captured. The captain very civilly gave him to understand that he might mess with the gun-room officers, if he could arrange with them, and that he expected to sail on the evening of the ensuing day. Newton immediately repaired on board of the frigate, to ascertain if the officers would receive him as a messmate; and further, whether the amount of his mess-money would be more than he could in prudence afford. At the bottom of one of the portmanteaus he had found a bag of two hundred dollars, supplied by his generous host, and in the same bag there was also deposited a small note from Madame de Fontanges, wishing him success, and enclosing (as a souvenir) a ring, which he had often perceived on her finger; but, adequate as was this supply to his own wants, Newton did not forget that his father was, in all probability, in great distress, and would require his assistance on his return. He was, therefore, naturally anxious not to expend more than was absolutely necessary in defraying his passage. The old first lieutenant, to whom, upon his arrival on board, he was introduced as commanding officer, received him with much urbanity; and, when Newton stated that he had obtained the captain's permission to make the application, immediately acceded to his wishes on the part of his messmates as well as of himself, when Newton followed up his application, by requesting to know the expense which he would incur, as, in case of its being greater than his finances could meet, he would request permission to choose a less expensive mess.
"I am aware," replied the veteran, "that those who have been shipwrecked, and in a French prison, are not likely to be very flush of cash. It is, however, a point on which I must consult my messmates. Excuse me one moment, and I will bring you an answer: I have no doubt but that it will be satisfactorily arranged; but there is nothing like settling these points at once. Mr Webster, see that the lighter shoves off the moment that she is clear," continued the first lieutenant to one of the midshipmen as he descended the quarter-deck ladder, leaving Newton to walk the quarter-deck.
In a few minutes the first lieutenant reappeared, with one or two officers of the gun-room mess, who greeted him most cordially.
"I have seen all that are requisite," said he to Newton. "Two I have not spoken to, the master and the purser; they are both poor men with families. If, therefore, you will not be too proud to accept it, I am requested to offer you a free passage from the other officers of the mess, as we feel convinced that your company will more than repay us. The proportion of the expense of your passage to the other two will be but one or two pounds; a trifle, indeed, but still of consequence to them; and that is the only expense which you will incur. If you can afford to pay that, any time after your arrival in England, we shall be most happy to receive you, and make the passage as comfortable and pleasant as circumstances will permit."
To this most liberal proposition Newton most gladly acceded. The officers who had come on deck with the first lieutenant invited Newton below, where he was introduced to the remainder of the mess, who were most of them fine young men, as happy and careless as if youth was to last for ever. Having pledged each other in a glass of grog, Newton returned on shore. The next morning he made his arrangements, paid his bill at the hotel, and before twelve o'clock was again on board of the frigate, which lay with the Blue Peter hoisted, and her fore-topsail loose, waiting for her captain, who was still detained on shore while the admiral and governor made up their despatches.
When Newton had applied to the captain of the frigate for a passage home, he could hardly believe it possible that the person to whom he was introduced could be entrusted with the command of so fine a vessel. He was a slight-made, fair complexioned lad, of nineteen or twenty years at the most, without an incipient mark of manhood on his chin. He appeared lively, active, and good-natured; but what were the other qualifications he possessed, to discover such a mark of confidence, were to Newton an enigma requiring solution.
It was, however, to be explained in very few words. He was the son of the admiral of the station, and (as at that period there was no regulation with respect to age, to check the most rapid promotion), after he had served his time as midshipman, in less than two months he had been raised through the different ranks of lieutenant, commander, and post-captain. On receiving the latter step, he was at the same time appointed to the frigate in question,—one of the finest which belonged to his Majesty's service. In order, however, that he should to a certain degree be in leading-strings, a very old and efficient officer had been selected by the admiral as his first lieutenant. Whether, in common justice, the captain and his subordinate ought not to have changed places, I leave the reader to guess; and it was the more unfair towards the worthy old first lieutenant, as, if the admiral had not entertained such a high opinion of his abilities and judgment as to confide to him the charge of his son, he would long before have been promoted himself to one of the many vacancies which so repeatedly occurred.
Captain Carrington had all the faults which, if no inherent, will naturally be acquired by those who are too early entrusted with power. He was self-sufficient, arbitrary, and passionate. His good qualities consisted in a generous disposition, a kindness of heart when not irritated, a manly courage, and a frank acknowledgment of his errors. Had he been allowed to serve a proper time in the various grades of his profession—had he been taught to obey before he had been permitted to command—he had within him all the materials for a good officer: as it was, he was neither officer, sailor, nor anything else, except a spoiled boy. He would often attempt to carry on the duty as captain, and as often fail from want of knowledge. He would commence manoeuvring the ship, but find himself unable to proceed. At these unfortunate break downs, he would be obliged to resign the speaking-trumpet to the first lieutenant; and if, as sometimes happened, the latter (either from accident, or perhaps from a pardonable pique at having the duty taken out of his hands), was not at his elbow to prompt him when at fault—at these times the cant phrase of the officers, taken from some farce, used to be, "York, you're wanted."
About an hour before sunset the juvenile captain made his appearance on board, rather fresh from taking leave of his companions and acquaintances on shore. The frigate was got under weigh by the first lieutenant, and, before the sun had disappeared, was bounding over the foaming seas in the direction of the country which had nurtured to maturity the gnarled oak selected for her beautiful frame. Newton joined his new messmates in drinking a prosperous passage to old England; and, with a heart grateful for his improved prospects, retired to the hammock which had been prepared for him.
When Newton rose in the morning, he found that the wind had shifted contrary during the night, and that the frigate was close hauled, darting through the smooth water with her royals set. At ten o'clock the master proposed tacking the ship, and the first lieutenant went down to report his wish to the captain.
"Very well, Mr Nourse," replied the captain; "turn the hands up."
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the first lieutenant, leaving the cabin.
"Call the boatswain, quarter-master—all hands 'bout ship."
"All hands 'bout ship," was now bellowed out by the boatswain, and re-echoed by his mates at the several hatchways, with a due proportion of whistling from their pipes.
"Tumble up, there—tumble up smartly, my lads."
In a minute every man was on deck, and at his station; many of them, however, tumbling down in their laudable hurry to tumble up.
"Silence there, fore and aft—every man to his station," cried the first lieutenant through his speaking-trumpet. "All ready, sir," reported the first lieutenant to the captain, who had followed him on deck. "Shall we put the helm down?"
"If you please, Mr Nourse."
"Down with the helm."
When the master reported it down, "The helm's a-lee," roared the first lieutenant.
But Captain Carrington, who thought light winds and smooth water a good opportunity for practice, interrupted him as he was walking towards the weather gangway "Mr Nourse, Mr Nourse, if you please, I'll work the ship."
"Very good, sir," replied the first lieutenant, handing him the speaking-trumpet. "Rise tacks and sheets, if you please, sir," continued the first lieutenant (sotto voce), "the sails are lifting."
"Tacks and sheets!" cried the captain.
"Gather in on the lee main-tack, my lads," said the first lieutenant, going to the lee gangway to see the duty performed.
Now, Captain Carrington did know that "mainsail haul" was the next word of command; but as this order requires a degree of precision as to the exact time at which it is given, he looked over his shoulder for the first lieutenant, who usually prompted him in this exigence. Not seeing him there, he became disconcerted; and during the few seconds that he cast his anxious eyes about the deck, to discover where the first lieutenant was, the ship had passed head to wind.
"Mainsail haul!" at last cried the captain; but it was too late; the yards would not swing round; everything went wrong; and the ship was in irons.
"You hauled a little too late, sir," observed the first lieutenant who had joined him. "You must box her off, sir, if you please."
But Captain Carrington, although he could put the ship in irons, did not know how to take her out.
"The ship is certainly most cursedly out of trim," observed he; "she'll neither wear nor stay. Try her yourself, Mr Nourse," continued the captain, "I'm sick of her!"—and with a heightened colour, he handed the speaking-trumpet over to the first lieutenant.
"York, you're wanted," observed the lieutenant abaft to the marine officer, dropping down the corners of his mouth.
"York, you're wanted," tittered the midshipmen, in whispers, as they passed each other.
"Well, I've won your grog, Jim," cried one of the marines, who was standing at the forebrace; "I knew he'd never do it."
"He's like me," observed another, in a low tone; "he left school too 'arly, and lost his edication."
Such were the results of injudicious patronage. A fine ship entrusted to a boy, ignorant of his duty; laughed at, not only by the officers, but even by the men; and the honour of the country at stake, and running no small risk of being tarnished, if the frigate met with a vigorous opponent.1 Thank God, this is now over! Judicious regulations have put a stop to such selfish and short-sighted patronage. Selfish, because those who were guilty of it risked the honour of the nation to advance the interests of their protégés; short-sighted, because it is of little use making a young man a captain if you cannot make him an officer. I might here enter into a discussion which might be of some use, but it would be out of place in a work intended more for amusement than for instruction; nor would it in all probability be read. I always make it a rule myself, to skip over all those parts introduced in a light work which are of denser materials than the rest; and I cannot expect but that others will do the same. There is a time and place for all things; and like the master of Ravenswood, "I bide my time."
The frigate dashed gallantly through the water, at one time careening to an adverse wind, at another rolling before a favouring gale: and, to judge from her rapid motion, she was not in such very bad trim as Captain Carrington had found out. Each day rapidly brought her nearer to their cherished home, as "she walked the waters like a thing of life." I can conceive no prouder situation in this world than being captain of a fine frigate, with a well-disciplined crew; but d—n your eight-and-twenties!
"We had better take in the royals, if you please, sir," said the first lieutenant, as he came, with his hat in his hand, into the cabin, where the captain was at dinner with several of the officers, the table crowded with a variety of decanters and French green bottles.
"Pho! nonsense! Mr Nourse; we'll carry them a little longer," replied the captain, who had been carrying too much sail another way. "Sit down and take a glass of wine with us. You always cry out before you're hurt, Nourse."
"I thank you, sir," replied the first lieutenant, seriously; "you will excuse me: it is time to beat to quarters."
"Well, then, do so; I had no idea it was so late. Mr Forster, you don't pass the bottle."
"I have taken enough, I thank you, sir."
The officers present also made the same statement.
"Well, then, if you won't, gentlemen—steward, let's have some coffee."
The coffee appeared and disappeared; and the officers made their bows and quitted the cabin as the first lieutenant entered it to report the muster at quarters.
"All present and sober, sir. I am afraid, sir," continued he, "the masts will be over the side if we do not clew up the royals."
"Stop a moment, if you please, Mr Nourse, until I go up and judge for myself," replied the captain, who was inclined to be pertinacious.
Captain Carrington went on deck. The men were still ranged round the decks at their quarters; more than one pair of eyes were raised aloft to watch the masts, which were bending like coach-whips, and complaining bitterly.
"Shall we beat a retreat, and pipe hands to shorten sail, sir? We had better take in the third reefs, sir;—it looks very squally to-night," observed the first lieutenant.
"Really, Mr Nourse, I don't exactly perceive the necessity—"
But at that moment the fore and main-top-gallant-masts went over the side; and the look-out man at the fore-top-gallant-mast head, who had been called down by the first lieutenant, but did not hear the injunction, was hurled into the sea to leeward.
"Helm down!" cried the master.
"Man overboard!—man overboard!" echoed round the decks; while some of the officers and men jumped into the quarter-boats, and hastily cast off the gripes and lashings.
Captain Carrington, who was immediately sobered by the catastrophe, which he felt had been occasioned by his own wilfulness, ran aft to the taffrail; and when he saw the poor sailor struggling in the waves, impelled by his really fine nature, he darted overboard to save him; but he was not by any means a powerful swimmer, and, encumbered with his apparel, it was soon evident that he could do no more than keep himself afloat.
Newton, who perceived how matters stood, with great presence of mind caught up two of the oars from the boat hanging astern, and darted over to the assistance of both. One oar he first carried to the seaman, who was exhausted and sinking. Placing it under his arms, he then swam with the other to Captain Carrington, who could not have remained above water but a few seconds more without the timely relief. He then quietly swam by the side of Captain Carrington, without any attempt at extra exertion.
The boat was soon lowered down, and in a few minutes they were all three again on board, and in safety. Captain Carrington thanked Newton for his assistance, and acknowledged his error to the first lieutenant. The officers and men looked upon Newton with respect and increased good-will; and the sailors declared that the captain was a prime little fellow, although he hadn't had an "edication."
Nothing worthy of remark occurred during the remainder of the passage. The ship arrived at Plymouth, and Newton took leave of his friendly shipmates, Captain Carrington requesting that Newton would command any interest that he had, if ever it should be required. It was with a throbbing heart that Newton descended from the outside of the coach which conveyed him to Liverpool, and hastened towards the obscure street in which he left his father residing. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when Newton arrived at his father's door. To his delight, he perceived through the shop-window that his father was sitting at his bench; but his joy was checked when he perceived his haggard countenance. The old man appeared to be absorbed in deep thought, his cheek resting upon his hand, and his eyes cast down upon the little bench, to which the vice used to be fixed, but from which it was now removed.
The door was ajar, and Newton entered with his portmanteau in his hand; but whatever noise he might have made was not sufficient to rouse Nicholas, who continued in the same position.
With one glance round the shop, Newton perceived that it was bare of everything; even the glazed cases on the counter, which contained the spectacles, &c., had disappeared. All bespoke the same tale, as did the appearance of his father—misery and starvation.
"My dearest father!" cried Newton, unable to contain himself any longer.
"How!—what?" cried Nicholas, starting at the voice, but not looking round. "Pho! nonsense!—he's dead," continued the old man, communing with himself, as he again settled into his former position.
"My dearest father, I'm not dead!—look round—'tis Newton! alive and well."
"Newton!" replied the old man, rising from his stool, and tottering to the counter, which was between them, on which he laid both his hands to support himself, as he looked into his son's face. "'Tis Newton, sure enough! My dear, dear boy!—then you an't dead?"
"No, indeed, father; I am alive and well, thank God!"
"Thank God, too!" said Nicholas, dropping his face on the counter, and bursting into tears.
Newton sprang over to the side where his father was, and embraced him. For some time they were locked in each other's arms; when Nicholas, who had recovered his composure, looked at Newton, and said, "Are you hungry, my dear boy?"
"Yes, indeed I am," replied Newton, smiling, as the tears coursed down his cheeks; "for I have had nothing since breakfast."
"And I have had nothing for these two days," replied Nicholas, leaning back to the wall in evident exhaustion.
"Good God! you don't say so?" cried Newton; "where can I buy something ready cooked?"
"At the shop round the corner: there's a nice piece of boiled beef there; I saw it yesterday. I offered my improvement on the duplex for a slice; but he would not trust me, even for that."
Newton ran out, and in a few minutes reappeared with the beef in question, some bread, and a pot of porter, with two plates and knives and forks, which the people had lent him, upon his putting down a deposit. He had laid them on the counter before his father, who, without saying a word, commenced his repast: the beef disappeared—the bread vanished—the porter-pot was raised to his mouth, and in a moment it was dry!
"Never made a better dinner, Newton," observed Nicholas: "but I wish there had been a little more of it."
Newton, who had only been a spectator, immediately went out for another supply; and on his return assisted his father in its demolition.
"Newton," said Nicholas, who for a few minutes had relinquished his task, "I've been thinking—that—I should like another slice of that beef! and Newton, as I said before—I'll trouble you for the porter!"