To this speech, Wilhelmina made no reply, but by a gracious inclination of her head towards Ramsay, which was returned with all humility. The dinner was excellent, and Ramsay amused himself very well indeed until it was over. Mynheer Krause then led the way to the saloon, called for coffee, and, so soon as he had finished it, made an apology to his guest, and left him alone with his beautiful daughter.
Wilhelmina Krause was a young person of a strong mind irregularly cultivated; she had never known the advantage of a mother's care, and was indeed self-educated. She had a strong tinge of romance in her character, and, left so much alone, she loved to indulge in it.
In other points she was clever, well read, and accomplished; graceful in her manners, open in her disposition, to a fault; for, like her father, she could not keep a secret, not even the secrets of her own heart; for whatever she thought she gave utterance to, which is not exactly the custom in this world, and often attended with unpleasant consequences.
The seclusion in which she had been kept added to the natural timidity of her disposition–but when once intimate, it also added to her confiding character. It was impossible to see without admiring her, to know her without loving her; for she was nature herself, and, at the same time, in her person one of Nature's masterpieces.
As we observed, when they retired to the saloon, Mynheer Krause very shortly quitted them, to attend to his affairs below, desiring his daughter to exert herself for the amusement of his guest; the contrary, however, was the case, for Ramsay exerted himself to amuse her, and very soon was successful, for he could talk of courts and kings, of courtiers and of people, and of a thousand things, all interesting to a young girl who had lived secluded; and as his full-toned voice, in measured and low pitch, fell upon Wilhelmina's ear, she never perhaps was so much interested. She seldom ventured a remark, except it was to request him to proceed, and the eloquent language with which Ramsay clothed his ideas, added a charm to the novelty of his conversation. In the course of two hours Ramsay had already acquired a moral influence over Wilhelmina, who looked up to him with respect, and another feeling which we can only define by saying that it was certainly anything but ill-will.
The time passed so rapidly, that the two young people could hardly believe it possible that it was past six o'clock, when they were interrupted by the appearance of Mynheer Krause, who came from his counting-house, the labours of the day being over. In the summer-time it was his custom to take his daughter out in the carriage at this hour, but the weather was too cold, and, moreover, it was nearly dark. A conversation ensued on general topics, which lasted till supper-time; after this repast was over Wilhelmina retired, leaving Ramsay and the syndic alone.
It was then that Ramsay made known to his host the contents of the despatches, much to Mynheer Krause's surprise and delight, who felt assured that his guest must be strong in the confidence of the English government, to be able to communicate such intelligence. Ramsay, who was aware that the syndic would sooner or later know what had been written, of course was faithful in his detail; not so, however, when they canvassed the attempts of the Jacobite party; then Mr Krause was completely mystified.
It was not till a late hour that they retired to bed. The next morning, the syndic, big with his intelligence, called upon his friends in person, and much to their surprise told them the contents of the despatches which had been received–and, much to his delight, discovered that he had been correctly informed. He also communicated what Ramsay had told him relative to the movements of the Court of St Germains, and thus, unintentionally, false intelligence was forwarded to England as from good authority. It hardly need be observed, that, in a very short time, Ramsay had gained the entire confidence of his host, and we may add also, of his host's daughter; but we must leave him for the present to follow up his plans, whatever they may be, and return to the personages more immediately connected with this narrative.
Chapter XXIX
In which Jemmy Ducks proves the truth of Moggy's assertion, that there was no one like him before or since–Nancy and Jemmy serenade the stars
As soon as Moggy landed at the Point with her dear darling duck of a husband, as she called him, she put his chest and hammock on a barrow and had them wheeled up to her own lodgings, and then they went out to call upon Nancy Corbett to make their future arrangements; Moggy proceeding in rapid strides, and Jemmy trotting with his diminutive legs behind her, something like a stout pony by the side of a large horse. It was in pedestrianism that Jemmy most felt his inferiority, and the protecting, fond way in which Moggy would turn round every minute and say, "Come along, my duck," would have been irritating to any other but one of Jemmy's excellent temper. Many looked at Jemmy, as he waddled along, smiled and passed on; one unfortunate nymph, however, ventured to stop, and putting her arms a-kimbo, looked down upon him and exclaimed, "Vell! you are a nice little man," and then commenced singing the old refrain–
"I had a little husband no bigger than my thumb,
I put him in a pint pot, and there I bid him drum:"
when Moggy, who had turned back, saluted her with such a box on the ear, that she made the drum of it ring again. The young lady was not one of those who would offer the other cheek to be smitten, and she immediately flew at Moggy and returned the blow; but Jemmy, who liked quiet, caught her round the legs, and, as if she had been a feather, threw her over his head, so that she fell down in the gutter behind him with a violence which was anything but agreeable. She gained her legs again, looked at her soiled garments, scraped the mud off her cheek–we are sorry to add, made use of some very improper language, and finding herself in the minority, walked off, turning round and shaking her fist at every twenty paces.
Moggy and her husband continued their course as if nothing had happened, and arrived at the house of Nancy Corbett, who had, as may be supposed, changed her lodgings and kept out of sight of Vanslyperken. Nancy was no stranger to Jemmy Ducks; so far as his person went he was too remarkable a character not to be known by her who knew almost everybody; and, moreover, she had made sufficient inquiries about his character. The trio at once proceeded to business: Jemmy had promised his wife to join the smugglers, and it was now arranged, that both he and his wife should be regularly enlisted in the gang, she to remain at the cave with the women, unless her services were required elsewhere, he to belong to the boat. There was, however, one necessary preliminary still to be taken, that of Jemmy and his wife both taking the oath of fidelity at the house of the Jew Lazarus; but it was not advisable to go there before dusk, so they remained with Nancy till that time, during which she was fully satisfied that, in both parties, the band would have an acquisition, for Nancy was very keen and penetrating, and had a great insight into human nature.
At dusk, to the house of Lazarus they accordingly repaired, and were admitted by the cautious Jew. Nancy stated why they had come, and there being, at the time, several of the confederates, as usual, in the house, they were summoned by the Jew to be witnesses to the oath being administered. Half-a-dozen dark-looking bold men soon made their appearance, and recognised Nancy by nods of their heads.
"Who have we here, old Father Abraham?' exclaimed a stout man, who was dressed in a buff jerkin and a pair of boots which rose above his knees.
"A good man and true," replied Nancy, caking up the answer.
"Why, you don't call that thing a man!" exclaimed the fierce-looking confederate with contempt.
"As good a man as ever stood in your boots," replied Moggy in wrath.
"Indeed: well, perhaps so, if he could only see his way when once into them," replied the man with a loud laugh, in which he was joined by his companions.
"What can you do, my little man?" said another of a slighter build than the first, coming forward and putting his hand upon Jemmy's head.
Now Jemmy was the best-tempered fellow in the world, but, at the same time, the very best-tempered people have limits to their forbearance, and do not like to be taken liberties with by strangers: so felt Jemmy, who, seizing the young man firmly by the waistband of his trousers just below the hips, lifted him from the ground, and with a strength which astonished all present, threw him clean over the table, his body sweeping away both the candles, so they were all left in darkness.
"I can douse a glim anyhow," cried Jemmy.
"That's my darling duck," cried Moggy, delighted with this proof of her husband's vigour.
Some confusion was created by this manoeuvre on the part of Jemmy, but candles were reproduced, and the first man who spoke, feeling as if this victory on the part of Jemmy was a rebuke to himself, again commenced his interrogations.
"Well, my little man, you are strong in the arms, but what will you do without legs?"
"Not run away, as you have done a hundred times," replied Jemmy, scornfully.
"Now by the God of War you shall answer for this," replied the man, catching hold of Jemmy by the collar; but in a moment he was tripped up by Jemmy, and fell down with great violence on his back.
"Bravo, bravo!" exclaimed the rest, who took part with Jemmy.
"That's my own little duck," cried Moggy; "you've shown him what you can do, anyhow."
The man rose, and was apparently feeling for some arms secreted about his person, when Nancy Corbett stepped forward.
"Do you dare?" cried she; "take what you have received, and be thankful, or–" and Nancy held up her little forefinger.
The man slunk back among the others in silence. The old Jew, who had not interfered, being in presence of Nancy, who had superior commands, now read the oath, which was of a nature not to be communicated to the reader without creating disgust. It was, however, such an oath as was taken in those times, and has since been frequently taken in Ireland. It was subscribed to by Jemmy and his wife without hesitation, and they were immediately enrolled among the members of the association. As soon as this ceremony had been gone through, Nancy and her protegés quitted the house and returned to her lodgings, when it was agreed that the next night they should go over to the island, as Jemmy's services were required in the boat in lieu of Ramsay, whose place as steersman he was admirably qualified to occupy, much better, indeed, than that of a rower, as his legs were too short to reach the stretcher, where it was usually fixed.
The next evening the weather was calm and clear, and when they embarked in the boat of the old fisherman, with but a small portion of their effects, the surface of the water was unruffled, and the stars twinkled brightly in the heavens; one article which Jemmy never parted with, was in his hand, his fiddle. They all took their seats, and the old fisherman shoved off his boat, and they were soon swept out of the harbour by the strong ebb tide.
"An't this better than being on board with Vanslyperken, and your leave stopped?" observed Moggy.
"Yes," replied the husband.
"And I not permitted to go on board to see my duck of a husband–confound his snivelling carcass?" continued Moggy.
"Yes," replied Jemmy, thoughtfully.
"And in company with that supernatual cur of his?"
Jemmy nodded his head, and then in his abstraction touched the strings of his violin.
"They say that you are clever with your instrument, Mr Salisbury," observed Nancy Corbett.
"That he is," replied Moggy; "and he sings like a darling duck. Don't you, Jemmy, my dear?"
"Quack, quack," replied Jemmy.
"Well, Mr Salisbury, there's no boat that I can see near us, or even in sight; and if there was it were little matter. I suppose you will let me hear you, for I shall have little opportunity after this?"
"With all my heart," replied Jemmy; who, taking up his fiddle, and playing upon the strings like a guitar, after a little reflection, sang as follows:
Bless my eyes, how young Bill threw his shiners away,
As he drank and he danced, when he first came on shore!
It was clear that he fancied that with his year's pay,
Like the Bank of Old England, he'd never be poor.
So when the next day, with a southerly wind in
His pockets, he came up, my rhino to borrow;
"You're welcome," says I, "Bill, as I forked out the tin,
But when larking to-day–don't forget there's to-morrow."
When our frigate came to from a cruise in the west,
And her yards were all squared, her sails neatly furled,
Young Tom clasped his Nancy, so loved, to his breast,
As if but themselves there was none in the world.
Between two of the guns they were fondly at play,
All billing and kissing, forgetting all sorrow;
"Love, like cash," says I, "Nan, may all go in a day,
While you hug him so close–don't forget there's to-morrow."
When a hurricane swept us smack smooth fore and aft,
When we dashed on the rock, and we floundered on shore,
As we sighed for the loss of our beautiful craft,
Convinced that the like we should never see more,
Says I, "My good fellows," as huddled together,
They shivered and shook, each phiz black with sorrow,
"Remember, it's not to be always foul weather,
So with ill-luck to-day–don't forget there's to-morrow!"
"And not a bad hint, neither, Mr Salisbury," said Nancy, when Jemmy ceased. "You sailors never think of to-morrow, more's the pity. You're no better than overgrown babies."
"I'm not much better, at all events," replied Jemmy, laughing: "however, I'm as God made me, and so all's right."
"That's my own darling Jemmy," said Moggy, "and if you're content, and I'm content, who is to say a word, I should like to know? You may be a rum one to look at, but I think them fellows found you but a rum customer the other night."
"Don't put so much rum in your discourse, Moggy, you make me long for a glass of grog."
"Then your mouth will find the water," rejoined Nancy; "but, however, singing is dry work, and I am provided. Pass my basket aft, old gentleman, and we will find Mr Salisbury something with which to whet his whistle." The boatman handed the basket to Nancy, who pulled out a bottle and glass, which she filled, and handed to Jemmy.
"Now, Mr Salisbury, I expect some more songs," said Nancy.
"And you shall have them, mistress; but I've heard say that you've a good pipe of your own; suppose that you give me one in return, that will be but fair play."
"Not exactly, for you'll have the grog in the bargain," replied Nancy.
"Put my fiddle against the grog, and then all's square."
"I have not sung for many a day," replied Nancy, musing, and looking up at the bright twinkling stars. "I once sang, when I was young–and happy–I then sang all the day long; that was really singing, for it came from the merriness of my heart;" and Nancy paused. "Yes, I have sung since, and often, for they made me sing; but 'twas when my heart was heavy–or when its load had been, for a time, forgotten and drowned in wine. That was not singing, at least not the singing of bygone days."
"But those times are bygone too, Mistress Nancy," said Moggy; "you have now your marriage lines, and are made an honest woman."
"Yes, and God keep me so, amen," replied Nancy mournfully.
Had not the night concealed it, a tear might have been seen by the others in the boat to trickle down the cheek of Nancy Corbett, as she was reminded of her former life; and as she again fixed her eyes upon the brilliant heavens, each particular star appeared to twinkle brighter, as if they rejoiced to witness tears like those.
"You must be light o' heart now, Mistress Nancy," observed Jemmy, soothingly.
"I am not unhappy," replied she, resting her cheek upon her hand.
"Mistress Nancy," said Moggy, "I should think a little of that stuff would do neither of us any harm; the night is rather bleak."
Moggy poured out a glass and handed it to Nancy; she drank it, and it saved her from a flood of tears, which otherwise she would have been unable to repress. In a minute or two, during which Moggy helped herself and the old boatman, Nancy's spirits returned.
"Do you know this air?" said Nancy to Jemmy, humming it.
"Yes, yes, I know it well, Mistress Nancy. Will you sing to it?"
Nancy Corbett who had been celebrated once for her sweet singing, as well as her beauty, immediately commenced in a soft and melodious tone, while Jemmy touched his fiddle.
Lost, stolen, or strayed,
The heart of a young maid;
Whoever the same shall find,
And prove so very kind.
To yield it on desire,
They shall rewarded be,
And that most handsomely,
With kisses one, two, three.
Cupid is the crier,
Ring-a-ding, a-ding,
Cupid is the crier.
O yes! O yes! O yes!
Here is a pretty mess!
A maiden's heart is gone,
And she is left forlorn,
And panting with desire;
Whoever shall bring it me,
They shall rewarded be.
With kisses one, two, three.
Cupid is the crier,
Ring-a-ding, a-ding,
Cupid is the crier.
'Twas lost on Sunday eve,
Or taken without leave,
A virgin's heart so pure,
She can't the loss endure,
And surely will expire;
Pity her misery.
Rewarded you shall be,
With kisses one, two, three.
Cupid is the crier,
Ring-a-ding, a-ding,
Cupid is the crier.
The maiden sought around,
It was not to be found,
She searched each nook and dell,
The haunts she loved so well,
All anxious with desire;
The wind blew ope his vest,
When, lo! the toy in quest,
She found within the breast
Of Cupid, the false crier,
Ring-a-ding, a-ding-a-ding,
Cupid the false crier.
"Many thanks, Mistress Corbett, for a good song, sung in good tune, with a sweet voice," said Jemmy. "I owe you one for that, and am ready to pay you on demand. You've a pipe like a missel thrush."
"Well, I do believe that I shall begin to sing again," replied Nancy. "I'm sure if Corbett was only once settled on shore in a nice little cottage, with a garden, and a blackbird in a wicker cage, I should try who could sing most, the bird or me."
"He will be by-and-bye, when his work is done."
"Yes, when it is; but open boats, stormy seas, and the halter, are heavy odds, Mr Salisbury."
"Don't mention the halter, Mistress Nancy, you'll make me melancholy," replied Jemmy, "and I sha'n't be able to sing any more. Well, if they want to hang me, they need not rig the yard-arm, three handspikes as sheers, and I shouldn't find soundings, heh! Moggy?"
Nancy laughed at the ludicrous idea; but Moggy exclaimed with vehemence, "Hang my Jemmy! my darling duck! I should like to see them."
"At all events, we'll have another song from him, Moggy, before they spoil his windpipe, which, I must say, would be a great pity; but Moggy, there have been better men hung than your husband."
"Better men than my Jemmy, Mrs Corbett! There never was one like him afore or since;" replied Moggy, with indignation.
"I only meant of longer pedigree, Moggy," replied Nancy soothingly.
"I don't know what that is," replied Moggy, still angry.
"Longer legs, to be sure," replied Jemmy. "Never mind that, Moggy. Here goes, a song in two parts. It's a pity, Mistress Nancy, that you couldn't take one."
"When will you give up this life of wild roving?
When shall we be quiet and happy on shore?
When will you to church lead your Susan, so loving,
And sail on the treacherous billows no more?"
"My ship is my wife, Sue, no other I covet,
Till I draw the firm splice that's betwixt her and me;
I'll roam on the ocean, for much do I love it–
To wed with another were rank bigamy."
"O William, what nonsense you talk, you are raving;
Pray how can a ship and a man become one?
You say so because you no longer are craving,
As once you were truly–and I am undone."
"You wrong me, my dearest, as sure as I stand here,
As sure as I'll sail again on the wide sea;
Some day I will settle, and marry with you, dear,
But now 'twould be nothing but rank bigamy."
"Then tell me the time, dear William, whenever
Your Sue may expect this divorce to be made;
When you'll surely be mine, when no object shall sever,
But locked in your arms I'm no longer afraid."
"The time it will be when my pockets are lined,
I'll then draw the splice 'tween my vessel and me,
And lead you to church, if you're still so inclined–
But before, my dear Sue, 'twere rank bigamy."
"Thank you, Mr Salisbury. I like the moral of that song; a sailor never should marry till he can settle on shore."
"What's the meaning of big-a-me?" said Moggy.
"Marrying two husbands or two wives, Mrs Salisbury. Perhaps you might get off on the plea that you had only one and a half," continued Nancy, laughing.
"Well, perhaps she might," replied Jemmy, "if he were a judge of understanding."
"I should think, Mistress Nancy, you might as well leave my husband's legs alone," observed Moggy, affronted.
"Lord bless you, Moggy, if he's not angry, you surely should not be; I give a joke, and I can take one. You surely are not jealous?"
"Indeed I am though, and always shall be of anyone who plays with my Jemmy."
"Or if he plays with anything else?"
"Yes, indeed."
"Yes, indeed! then you must be downright jealous of his fiddle, Moggy," replied Nancy; "but never mind, you sha'n't be jealous now about nothing. I'll sing you a song, and then you'll forget all this." Nancy Corbett then sang as follows:
Fond Mary sat on Henry's knee,
"I must be home exact," said he,
"And see, the hour is come."
"No, Henry, you shall never go
Until me how to count you show;
That task must first be done."
Then Harry said, "As time is short,
Addition you must first be taught;–
Sum up these kisses sweet;
"Now prove your sum by kissing me:–
Yes, that is right, 'twas three times three–
Arithmetic's a treat.
"And now there is another term,
Subtraction you have yet to learn;
Take four away from these."
"Yes, that is right, you've made it out,"
Says Mary, with a pretty pout,
"Subtraction don't me please."
Division's next upon the list;
Young Henry taught while Mary kissed,
And much admired the rule;
"Now, Henry, don't you think me quick?"
"Why, yes, indeed, you've learned the trick;
At kissing you're no fool."
To multiply was next the game,
Which Henry by the method same,
To Mary fain would show;
But here his patience was worn out,
She multiplied too fast I doubt,
He could no farther go.
"And now we must leave off, my dear;
The other rules are not so clear,
We'll try at them to-night;"
"I'll come at eve, my Henry sweet;
Behind the hawthorn hedge we'll meet,
For learning's my delight."
"That's a very pretty song, Mistress Corbett, and you've a nice collection, I've no doubt. If you've no objection, I'll exchange another with you."
"I should be most willing, Mr Salisbury; but we are now getting well over, and we may as well be quiet, as I do not wish people to ask where we are going."
"You're right, ma'am," observed the old fisherman, who pulled the boat. "Put up your fiddle, master; there be plenty on the look out, without our giving them notice."
"Very true," replied Jemmy, "so we break up our concert."
The whole party were now silent. In a quarter of an hour the boat was run into a cut, which concealed it from view; and, as soon as the fisherman had looked round to see the coast clear, they landed and made haste to pass by the cottages; after that Nancy slackened her pace, and they walked during the night over to the other side of the island, and arrived at the cottages above the cave.
Here they left a portion of their burdens and then proceeded to the path down the cliff which led to the cave. On Nancy giving the signal, the ladder was lowered, and they were admitted. As soon as they were upon the flat, Moggy embraced her husband, crying, "Here I have you, my own dear Jemmy, all to myself, and safe for ever."