I had seen little of her for three years, during which she had sprung up to womanhood, for she was now seventeen, and appeared to be at least eighteen years old before. Before, when we were living together, we kissed as brother and sister: since we had again become inmates of the same house, we had been friends, but nothing more. Bessy certainly showed as great a preference to me as our relative situations would admit; but still it appeared as if the extreme intimacy of childhood had been broken off, and that it was necessary that a renewed intimacy under another aspect should take place, to restore us to our former relations. Here it was for me to make the first overtures; not for her, as maidenly reserve would not permit it. Bramble seemed to be most anxious that such should be the case—indeed, considered it as a matter of course: perhaps Bessy thought so too in her own bosom; and the continual raillery of Bramble did more harm than good, as it appeared to warrant her thinking that it ought to be so. Why it was not I will now explain to the reader.

I have already made mention of Mr Wilson, the lawyer, whose acquaintance we procured through Sir Hercules and his lady. This intimacy had very much increased; and a Miss Janet Wilson had come home from a finishing seminary near town. Between this young lady and my sister Virginia a certain degree of intimacy had been formed, and of course I had seen a great deal of her at the times when I was at Greenwich. She was a very pretty and very diminutive girl, but beautifully proportioned, although so very small; indeed, she was considered quite a model in figure, at least my mother used to say so, and I never heard any one disagree with her. Janet had, moreover, large eyes, pencilled eyebrows, and a dimpled chin. Now, as Bessy was away at the time when I first made her acquaintance, if all these perfections were not enough for me to fall in love with, I must have been difficult to please at the age of eighteen, when one is not so very difficult; and the consequence was, I was her most devoted slave. Mr Wilson laughed at us, and seemed either to think that it would end in nothing, or that if it did end in something he had no objection. Thus was I fixed; and with Virginia for a confidante, what was to prevent the course of true love running smooth? Janet received all my sighs, all my protestations, all my oaths, and all my presents—and many were the latter, although perhaps not equal to the former three. It was, therefore, not surprising that Bessy, who had been out of the way, had been forestalled by this diamond edition of Nature's handiwork. Such was the state of my heart at the commencement of the year 1805.

I have mentioned that my mother had taken a house in the principal street; but I must now add that in the year 1804 she found it necessary to remove into one much larger, and had therefore shifted more to the upper part of the town. Instead of being in a row, this house was detached, with a small garden in front and a good piece of ground at the back, which looked down towards the river. The situation not being so central did no harm to my mother, as she was so well known; on the contrary, it made her even more fashionable. She now kept no shop, but a show-room; and had not only accommodation for more workpeople, but very handsome apartments to let. In another point it was advantageous, which was on account of my father. At the end of the garden there was an octangular summer-house, looking upon the river: it was a good-sized room, boarded floor, and moreover, it had a fireplace in it, and when shut up was very warm and comfortable. My mother made this house over to my father as his own, to smoke and drink beer in; and my father preferred a place in which he could sit alone with his friends, to a public house, especially as the garden had a gate at the end of it by which he could admit himself whenever he pleased. Here my father, Ben the Whaler, Anderson, and others would sit, having a commanding view of the Thames and the vessels passing and repassing—in the summer-time, with all the windows open, and enjoying the fresh air and the fresh smoke from their pipes—in winter-time surrounding the fire and telling their yarns. It was an admirable arrangement, and Virginia and I always knew where to find him.

I have said but little of my sister Virginia. I may be considered partial to her—perhaps I was; but to me she was, if not the handsomest, certainly one of the most captivating persons I ever saw: to prove that I thought so, I can only say that, deeply as I was smitten with Miss Janet Wilson, I often thought that I wished she was a facsimile of my sister. Virginia was now seventeen years old, slender and very graceful: she reminded me more of an antelope in her figure than anything I can compare her to; her head was so beautifully placed on her shoulders, that it was the first thing which attracted your notice when you saw her. Her eyes were of a deep hazel, fringed by long black eyelashes, and her arching and delicate eyebrows nearly met; her nose was perfectly straight, but rather small; and her face ended in a sharp oval, which added to the brilliancy and animation of her countenance; her mouth was small and beautifully formed, and her little teeth like seed pearl. Every one declared that she was the handsomest creature that ever they had seen; and what every one says must be true. She was so; but she was not always lively—she was only so at times: she appeared to be of a serious, reflective turn of mind, and she read a great deal; but at times she was mirth personified. To my mother she was always dutiful and attentive, and was very useful to her.

I could not at first imagine what made my mother so anxious to have lodgers in the house, as they must have proved a great nuisance to her, and her circumstances were above such an infliction. I was not long before I discovered the cause of this: it was no other but to make up some good match for my sister, whose beauty she considered would effect her purpose. Many were the applications for her lodgings, made by highly respectable gentlemen; but when she discovered, either that they were married, or that in other points they did not suit, she invariably refused, and for months her apartments continued vacant; but if anybody at all aristocratical, who was single, wished to inspect them, my mother was all smiles and eagerness. It may be supposed that she was not likely to meet with such people as she solicited at such a town as Greenwich, but such was not the case: before steamboats made Greenwich so come-at-able there were many families of distinction who resided there and in its environs—especially in the autumn of the year, when the river offered much amusement. It was just at that period that the whitebait parties became so much in vogue, and Greenwich was considered a pleasant retreat for a few months by many of the fashionable world.

Although Virginia never mentioned her surmises directly, I perceived, by her occasional remarks, that she had latterly become aware of what were my mother's views; indeed, how could she do otherwise, when my mother would refuse her lodgings one day to a gentleman because he was married, and let them the next time merely because he was a single man? And that she was disgusted with my mother's conduct I was convinced; at the same time, she certainly kept her thoughts to herself, merely telling me how very uncomfortable it was to have lodgers, and to be obliged to go into their rooms with messages from my mother. There was an Honourable Mr —-, I really forget his name—indeed, I should not have mentioned him, except that he was the introduction of another personage—who was several months in my mother's house, a harmless old bachelor. How old he was I cannot say, as he wore a very youthful wig and also false whiskers, but I should think about sixty. He was a great admirer of the fine arts, and a still greater admirer of his own performances in painting. He took lessons twice a day from two different masters, who came from London, and he was at it from morning to night. He came down to Greenwich, as he said, to study tints, and get up his colouring. I cannot say I thought his performances very good, but perhaps I was not a judge. My mother, who would, I believe, have sacrificed my sister to an ourang outang, provided he was an Honourable, took every opportunity of sending Virginia in to him, that he might study the delicate tints on her cheeks; but it would not do, even if Virginia had been a party to it. He looked at his palette instead of her pretty mouth, and his camel-hair pencils attracted his attention more than her pencilled eyebrows. He was wrapt up in his art, and overlooked the prettiest piece of nature in the world; and Virginia, seeing this to be the case, had no longer any objection to go into his room. But this gentleman had a nephew, a very different sort of a personage, a young heir to a marquisate, who used to pay attention to his bachelor uncle by paying him visits, at first because he was ordered so to do, and after once or twice because he had seen Virginia, and was struck with her appearance. He was a good-looking young man, about nineteen? but not very bright— indeed, I ought to say very silly, although at the same time not at all bashful. He made an acquaintance with my mother, who was delighted with his condescension, and declared that he was one of the most pleasant young men she had ever met with; and he would have been very intimate with Virginia had she not repulsed him. As soon as the leaves dropped off the trees the old bachelor declared that there were no more tints worth remaining for, and he took his departure. About a month afterwards his nephew came down, accompanied by a young man who was his tutor, and hired the apartments, much to the joy of my mother, who now had hopes, and much to the annoyance of my sister, who had fears of being persecuted.

And now, having in this chapter brought up my history to the commencement of the year 1805, I shall again enter into a more detailed narrative.



CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

MORE CRY THAN WOOL—BRAMBLE WOULD DIG A PIT FOR ANOTHER AND TUMBLES IN ALONG WITH HIM.

It was in the month of March, 1805, when the easterly winds prevailed, and vessels were detained in the Chops of the Channel, that I agreed with Bramble that we would return together and halve the pilotage. About eight leagues from the Lizard Point we boarded a small ship which had hoisted the signal, the weather at that time being fine and the wind variable. When we went on board it was but just daylight, and the captain was not yet on deck, but the mate received us: we were surprised to find that she mounted twelve brass guns, remarkably well fitted, and that everything was apparently ready for action, rammers and sponges, shot and wadding being all up and at hand.

"A prime morning, shipmate," said Bramble; then casting his eye over the deck, "A letter of marque, I presume?"

"Yes," replied the mate, "we have the papers, but still she has never run without convoy since I have been in her; we lost our convoy three days back, and the captain has been rather uneasy ever since."

"Uneasy! why, I should think that you could beat off a good stout privateer with these guns of yours?"

"Well, I don't know but what we might, but our cargo is valuable, and we might be overpowered."

"Very true, and the captain must be anxious. Where are you from?"

"Smyrna."

"What's your cargo?"

"Why, we have raw silk and drysalters' goods chiefly. D'ye think we shall have a fair wind? I don't care how soon, for we've at least twenty passengers on board, and our provisions and water are running rather short. Here's the skipper."

The captain, who now made his appearance, was a tall good-looking young man about thirty, dressed rather fantastically, as I thought, having a laced cap on his head and a parti-coloured silk sash round his waist, such as they wear in the Mediterranean.

"Well, pilot, what do you think of the wind?"

"Well, sir, I expect we'll have a slant which will enable us to fetch well to windward of the Lizard, at all events, and then, when the tide turns in-shore, we must stand out again."

"Mr Stubbs, turn the hands up to make sail."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the mate.

The men came on deck, but the captain roared out for the idlers; these were the passengers who had agreed to work during the passage: at last they came up, a queer-looking set, and the captain sending down for his speaking trumpet, sail was made on the ship.

"Why, captain," said Bramble, "you do it in man-of-war fashion."

"Well, I've not served the King for seven years for nothing," replied he, "and I hope, sir, not heard the bullets whistling about my head like hail in a hail-storm without knowing how to take care of my ship. I like everything man-of-war fashion, and then one's always prepared. Where's the boatswain? Pipe to breakfast."

"You've plenty of hands on board, mate," said Bramble.

"Yes, plenty of them, such as they are; we've twenty of the ship's company, and twenty-five passengers from Malta."

After breakfast the captain ordered up the small-arm men; five seamen and fifteen of the passengers made their appearance with their muskets, which were examined, and they were dismissed. At eleven o'clock, as we neared the land, the men were ordered to quarters, the guns cast loose, and they were exercised as on board of a man-of-war, the captain giving his orders with his speaking-trumpet. "Double-shot your guns! Run out! Point your guns! Fire! Repel boarders on the bow! Repel boarders on the quarter!" etcetera. This continued for more than two hours, when the guns were again secured.

"Well, pilot," said the captain to Bramble, "what do you think? do you fancy a privateer could take us in a hurry?"

"Why, captain, if the men fight, I should say not; but, you see, these guns, handsome as they are, won't fight of themselves."

"I'll answer for the men fighting; they'll have but their choice,— fight, or the contents of my pistol through the first man's head who quits his gun. I'll nail the colours to the mast, and see who will be the man who will haul them down. Why, pilot, this vessel is insured at thirty thousand pounds."

"Then she'll be a famous prize, if they should contrive to take her, that's all," said Bramble. "Halloo! what vessel's that coming down? Tom, hand your glass here."

"I haven't got it with me."

"Well, give me that one on the skylight. I can't make her out, but I don't much like the looks of her."

"Heh! what's that?" said the captain. "Let me look:—oh, she's a square-rigged vessel, ain't she?"

"Can't tell," said Bramble.

The mate, who had fetched his glass from below, looked at her, and said it was a coasting schooner.

"Are you sure of that?" said the captain. "Let me see:—well, I don't know what to say—she does look rakish. I'll go forward and make her out."

"Why, it's a coaster, Bramble," said I, as the captain walked forward.

"I know that," replied Bramble, with a wink.

The captain returned, probably satisfied that it was only a coaster, but he did not choose to say so. "Well, I don't know what to make of her, but at all events there's nothing like being ready. She's coming down fast upon us; Mr Stubbs, we'll beat to quarters."

Again the people were called up and the guns cast loose; the powder was handed up, and all was preparation. I did not think, however, that the passengers appeared at all zealous; but that I was not surprised at: the captain harangued them, calling them Britons, etcetera, and, hoping that they would show what stuff they were made of; talked about the honour of Old England, and a great deal more, and then examined the vessel again with his glass. "We'll give her the starboard broadside, and then wear round his stern and give her the other. Hoist the colours!"

As soon as we hoisted the colours, the schooner hoisted English colours also.

"English colours, sir!" said the mate, grinning. "English colours, heh? Very well; but that may be a feint—keep to your guns, my lads."

The vessel now ran by us; she was deeply laden, and as broad as she was long.

"No privateer this time, captain," said Bramble, laughing.

"No, all's right; secure the guns, my lads. We'd have given her a nice peppering if she'd been a French privateer."

The captain then went down below to put away his sword and pistols, which the cabin-boy had brought on deck.

"It's my opinion, Tom," said Bramble, "that this skipper ain't quite so fond of fighting as he pretends to be. I'll see if I can't frighten him a little."

As soon as the captain came on deck again, Bramble said, "We'll go about, if you please."

"What! about already? why, we're good three leagues from the shore."

"Yes, sir, but the tide has made, and we must now make a long stretch-out towards the French coast. We won't tack again till about dark."

"Not tack till dark, pilot? surely we will do better keeping on the English coast."

"No, no, sir; if we were not so well manned and so well armed I should do it; but, as we are a match for any privateer, why, we may as well make a long leg—we shall be up Channel sooner."

"Well, I don't know what to say; I've a heavy responsibility with such a valuable cargo."

"Well, tack if you please, sir," said Bramble, shortly.

"Oh, certainly. Hands, about ship."

The vessel's head was put off-shore, and with a smart breeze we walked away fast from the land. At twelve o'clock the captain proposed standing in-shore again, but Bramble refused. At three o'clock he became very uneasy, and expostulated with Bramble, who replied, "Well, sir, I'm doing all for the best, but if you are afraid—"

"Afraid?" cried the captain; "afraid of what, I should like to know? No, I'm not afraid, but it appears to me that we ought to make the land again before night."

"I'll answer for knowing where we are, sir, if that is your reason, at all events, I wish to stand out till six o'clock."

"Well, do so, then, if you choose—I'm sure I don't care if you stand to within gun-shot of the French coast;" and the captain, evidently very much annoyed, went down into the cabin.

About half-past four o'clock the mate came aft and took up the glass, saying that there was an awkward-looking craft on the weather bow. He came aft again, and said, "Pilot, I wish you would take a squint at that craft, for I don't much like the look of her."

Bramble went forward, and I followed him. "I say, Tom, that's a French privateer, as sure as we stand here," said he, "Look at her. Well, now we shall see what these guns are made of."

"Don't put too much trust in them," said the mate. "I know what sort of people we have here. Had we only ten good men I wouldn't care for a privateer, but I'm afraid that we have not many we can trust to. However, we'll do our best, and we can do no more. I'll go down and tell the captain."

"It is a Frenchman," replied I, "and no mistake—every rope and every sail on her are French;" for the vessel, which was a lugger, was not more than four miles from us.

"Well," replied Bramble, "it would be odd if we were to be taken into a French port after all, wouldn't it? not very pleasant, though."

"We've men enough to beat her off, or two of her, if that's all," replied I.

"Yes, Tom, but I doubt the captain, and without example men don't fight well. However, we'll do our best, and if he flinches we won't."

The captain now came forward as red as a turkey-cock; he said nothing, looked at the vessel, and then turned as white as a sheet.

"She's more than our match, if she's an enemy," said he.

"I should rather think not, sir," replied Bramble. "All you have to do is to make your men fight, and nail your colours to the mast."

"That's very true when there's a fair chance of success, but it's useless sacrificing the men against so very superior a force," replied the captain.

"But it ain't superior, nor in guns is she your equal, if I know anything about a vessel. At all events, I suppose you'll have a trial for it. Won't you beat to quarters, captain?"

"Oh, to be sure. Mr Stubbs, beat to quarters. I think it would not be a bad thing to fire off our broadsides now, and let them see that we are well armed."

The men were summoned up to quarters, and very unwillingly did they obey: some said that they did not come on board to fight, others that they had agreed to work the passage home, but not to stand to be shot at; and some were actually going down below again, when Bramble and the mate spoke to them and persuaded them to remain on deck. Still there was no willingness shown; and although Bramble told them how many privateers had been beaten off, and mentioned particularly the Leith smack having the other day fought with one an hour and a half, and knocked her all to pieces, they still appeared uneasy and wavering.

In the meantime the privateer was within a mile of us, and had hoisted French colours.

"We'll keep away and give her the first broadside," cried the captain.

"You'd better hoist your colours first," observed Bramble, quietly. "Hoist the colours, Mr Stubbs! Port the helm! Look out, my men! Point the guns to the object! Fire!"

Off went all the guns, not only on the starboard side, in the direction of the privateer, but all those on the larboard side as well; and this circumstance probably gave the people on board of the privateer some idea of the state of confusion we were in. She now rounded to, and gave us her broadside of three guns: they were well directed, and did us some damage in the upper works and rigging; but still more in frightening the people, who were now running down below, notwithstanding the exertions of the mate, Bramble, one or two of the seamen, and myself; but our fate was soon decided by the captain, who cried out, "It's useless contending against such a superior force." With this observation he ran aft and hauled down the colours. As soon as the men perceived this they all left the guns; at another broadside from the privateer they all scampered down below, and at the same time the captain went down into his cabin. There was none but the mate, the boatswain, Bramble, and myself left on deck.

"Pleasant," said Bramble. "I thought as much. Well, Tom, here we are, in for it. Come with me to the helm, for these French fellows will board, and they make very free with their cutlasses, even after colours are hauled down. Well," said he, as he walked aft, "I did not think to see the English flag so disgraced. Poor Bessy, too! Well, never mind. I say, mate, just let go the weather main-braces and bowlines, and square the yards, for it's better to be as humble as possible, now that we can't help ourselves; and do you and the boatswain go down below, for they cut right and left, these fellows. They do pay a little more civility to pilots, as they aren't belonging to the ship."

This advice of Bramble's, which was very good, was followed by the mate and boatswain.

"Shall I run down and look after our kits?" said I to Bramble.

"No, Tom, don't have anything in your hand, or they will take it from you, and most likely give you a rap on the head with a cutlass at the same time; for privateer's-men of all nations are little better than pirates, and don't know how to behave in victory. Just keep where you are—look as if you had nothing to do with the ship except the steering of her. Here they come!"

As he spoke the lugger touched our weather side, at the same time lowering down her foresail and mainsail with no little noise and confusion; in a second or two there were thirty of their men on our decks, flourishing their cutlasses, and looking round with their pistols ready cocked in their left hands for somebody to let fly at. At last they came aft. "Pilot!" cried Bramble, taking off his hat. I did the same. With reiterated sacres and diables of every description, some now rushed down into the cabin, while others went down the fore-hatchway, while more of the men from the lugger poured upon our decks; but none of them molested Bramble or me, as we continued standing at the wheel. In about ten minutes order was to a certain degree restored by the captain of the privateer, who had come on board. I perceived him express his surprise to his officers who were with him at the armament of the ship, and he appeared very much pleased: it was not necessary to understand French for that. He then came up to Bramble, and spoke to him in French; but Bramble only pointed to me and then to himself, and said "Pilot." The captain called for a young Frenchman who could speak English, and then asked Bramble what was the cargo.

Bramble, to please him, replied that it was silk and other goods to the value of thirty thousand pounds English.

"How many men?"

"Forty-five men."

The French captain rubbed his hands with ecstasy, as well he might. Just at this moment the English captain came upon deck, followed by two of the privateer's men, one of whom had taken possession of his laced cap, and the other of his silk sash. He brought his sword in his hand, and presented it to the captain of the privateer, saying,—"It is no disgrace for one brave man to deliver up his sword to another."

"Que dit-il?" said the captain of the privateer to the young man who interpreted. The young man translated this fine speech, upon which the French captain called the English one by a very contemptuous title, and turned away. The privateer's men now made their appearance from below, having helped themselves to everything they could find: the orders were then given for the prisoners to be brought upon deck; they were driven up, many of them bleeding from wounds received in attempts to rescue their personal property, and were handed over to the lugger. A prize-master with twenty men were put on board; the lugger was hauled off, the only Englishmen allowed to remain in the captured vessel being Bramble and myself. As soon as the vessels were clear they made sail, running about two points free for the French coast.



CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

WE HAVE GREAT HOPES OF NOT SEEING THE INSIDE OF A FRENCH PRISON, BUT WE ARE DISAPPOINTED.

"Well, Tom, this is a bad job," said Bramble to me, taking his seat upon the hencoop aft. "By to-morrow at noon, unless we fall in with a cruiser—and I see little chance of that—we shall be locked-up in a French prison; ay, and Heaven knows how long we may stay there! What's to become of poor little Bessy? I'm sure I don't know. I must contrive to write over to lawyer Wilson, and put him in charge of everything. But I'm sorry for you, my poor lad; it's hard for you to be locked up, perhaps for years, when you might have been making money for yourself."

"Well, it can't be helped, father; we must make the best of it," replied I, with a deep sigh, for I was anything but happy at the prospect.

"If it had not been for that swaggering coward, this might not have happened," replied Bramble. "It's somewhat my own fault: I was so anxious to frighten him about nothing, but at last I run us into real danger, and I might have known that he never would have fought, although I certainly had no idea of falling in with a privateer. Well, Tom, we must not lose a chance."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean that if there is any possibility of getting away, I shall; and you, of course, will not stay behind. I don't know where they are going to, but you see, Tom, our only chance of getting off is while we are on the coast; if once we are marched into the interior, why, then it will be almost hopeless. What we must try for is to get away at the port where we land. We shall see."

"I am afraid that there's very little chance for us," replied I; "but I'm ready to attempt anything."

"We shall see, Tom—where there's a will there's a way; however, it's no use talking about it just now." Here Bramble filled his pipe, took out his flint and steel, and lighted it.

After smoking for ten minutes, during which I stood by him, he said, "I wonder where they will take us to—St. Malo's or Morlaix; for the course they are steering will fetch, I should think, thereabouts. One thing is certain—they've got a good prize, and they mean to keep it if they can; and, my eyes! if they won't make a fuss about it! A ship with twelve guns taken by a lugger with only six! They'll make the ship mount eighteen or twenty guns, and have a hundred and fifty men on board, and they'll swear they fought us for three hours. They have something to boast of, that's certain; and I suspect that French captain is a brave sort of chap, from the sneer he gave when our cowardly English lubber gave him so fine a speech. Well, it's our disgrace!"

Here Bramble was silent for some time, when I said to him, "You were stating to the men how a Leith smack beat off a privateer the other day; I never heard of it."

"Yes, I heard it when I was up above Greenwich. I met an old friend who was on board of her, for he took his passage in her from London.

"'Why,' says he to me, 'Bramble, I thought we never should have got away from the river, for the old captain, who was as big round as a puncheon, and not unlike one, declared that he would not sail until the powder came up from Woolwich; for the Queen Charlotte (that was the name of the smack) carried six eighteen-pound carronades. We waited nearly a week for the powder, and many a laugh we all had about it, thinking old Nesbitt was not much of a fighter, from his making so much fuss. Well, at last we boomed her off from the wharf, and about seven that night got clear of the Thames; it was a fine breeze all night, and we ran through the Swin by the lead, which is what every one won't attempt: next morning we were off Yarmouth Roads, with the water as yellow as pea-soup; never saw it otherwise, and I'm an old collier; reason why, the swells of the ocean thrashes up the sands off there—ay, and shifts them too occasionally, which is of more consequence. Well, Bramble,' says he, 'well, on we went; hauled in through Harborough Gut; then the sun had so much power—for it was in the Dog Days—that it eat up the wind, and we were obliged to content ourselves with getting four knots out of her. Just as we made the Dudgeon Light-Boat, old Nesbitt's son comes aft to his father, who was steering the craft, and says, "Father, do you see that 'ere brig crowding all sail after us? I think it be the New Custom House brig trying his rate of sailing with us."

"'"Never you mind what she is, boy," says the captain, "but away up and furl the gaff-topsail."

"'Meanwhile the brig overhauled us fast, and old Nesbitt kept a-looking round at her every two or three minutes. At last he says to the mate, "Take the wheel a bit," and he goes first and looks over the quarter. "I see," says he; "I say, you sergeant and corporal," (for we had a recruiting party on board), "suppose now you just help us to load our guns and work them a little, for I expect this here craft will give us plenty to do."

"'Well, Bramble, as I stand here, if six of them lobsters didn't say nothing, but just walk down below: but the sergeant was a trump of a fellow, and so was his wife; he threw off his coat and cap covered with ribands, tied a handkerchief round his head, and set to work with a will; and his wife backed him to the last, handing the powder and everything else. Well, we had with us ten men who all stood to guns; but the passengers went down below with the soldiers. Well, on comes the brig upon our starboard quarter as if to board; all her fore rigging, and fore-chains, and forecastle being full of men as bees in a swarm.

"'"Are you all ready, my men?" said the captain.

"'"Yes, all ready, sir."

"'"Yes, and I be ready too, massa!" cried the black cook, bringing out from the caboose the red-hot poker.

"'"Well, then, up on the wind with her, and fire when the guns bear."

"'The men kept their eyes on the guns; and when they cried "fire!" the cook set them all off, one after another, with the hot poker, and no small mischief did these three guns do. His forecastle was cleared of men in no time; down came his gaff and, fore-topsail, and being now right on our beam, he put his helm up to lay us on board; but we were too quick for him—we wore round too, and gave him the three other guns, which did him no good.

"'Well, he came after us on the other tack, and pelted us with musketry in a cruel way. The mate was hit in the head, and taken down below; and poor old Nesbitt, who was at the wheel, steering the craft beautifully, had a bullet right into his bow-window, as they call it. "Well," the old fellow says, "here's a shot between wind and water, I reckon—we must have a plug;" so he puts his flippers into his waistband, and stuffs his flannel jacket into the hole. Then we throws her up in the wind again, and rakes him with our three guns well into him, and carries away more of his gear, and stops his sailing—and so we goes on for a whole hour and thirty-five minutes; and, to make a long story short, we beat him off, and he turned tail and ran for it with both pumps going.'

"Now you see, Tom, that's the account of the affair, given to me by a man who I can trust; and there you see what can be done if men are resolute and determined to fight. Some little difference between that affair and this one, Tom."

"Did old Nesbitt die or recover?"

"I asked that question: he was doing well when my friend left; somehow or another no vital part was injured, and he has had many presents made him for his gallant conduct, and the sergeant was well rewarded also. Well, my pipe's out, and it's not far from midnight; I should think we may just as well try for a little sleep, Tom, for perhaps we may not get any for some time to come."

Bramble coiled himself up under the bulwark; I did the same; and in a few minutes we both had forgotten whether we were in our beds at our house at Deal or prisoners bound for the French coast.

At daylight the next morning Bramble roused me up.

"Here we are now, Tom! here's the French coast not four leagues from us; but it's hazy, and I cannot make it out very clear; how ever, the sun will soon drive all this away, and we shall have a fine day; but the wind has gone down, and I think we shall have still less of it."

And so it proved; for, as the sun rose, the wind became very light, so that we did not go through the water more than three knots. We were looking at the coast, when the report of a gun saluted our ears. It was from the privateer; we turned to that quarter, and found that there was a cutter about two miles from the privateer, crowding all sail towards us.

"Tom!" cried Bramble, "there's a chance for us yet—that's an English privateer, and she will try to retake us for the sake of the salvage. But here's a boat coming from the Frenchman—what can that be for?"

The boat rowed alongside of us, and out jumped the captain of the French privateer with twenty of his best men, and the boat was then dropped astern.

The Frenchmen immediately cast loose the guns, went down for the powder, and prepared for action.

"I see, Tom," said Bramble, "he's a clever fellow, this skipper: he knows that this ship and cargo is worth a dozen of his little privateer, and his object is to get her in—so he's come with all his best men on board of us, leaving his first officer to make the best fight with the privateer that he can. Well, he's right; and if it wasn't that I don't like to go to prison, I wish he may succeed, for he has got sense as well as courage, I think."

The ship was now kept away two points more, that she might go through the water as fast as she could; and in the meantime the action commenced between the English cutter and the French privateer, the latter evidently attempting to cripple the masts and rigging of the former. The cutter, however, steered right for us, and evidently came up fast; the French privateer, weak-handed as she must have been, behaved very well, throwing herself across the cutter's bows, and doing everything she could to prevent her coming up with us: both vessels were very much cut up before the cutter came within three cables' lengths of us, when the French captain ordered French colours to be hoisted, and, rounding to, poured in a well-directed broadside, which quite astonished the English privateer, who imagined that we were an unarmed merchantman. The action now became very warm; we standing on, and every now and then rounding to and raking the cutter, while the French privateer engaged her broadside to broadside. The French captain was abaft, giving his orders with the greatest coolness and ability, when a shot from the cutter came in on deck, and a large splinter which it tore off knocked him down on his back. Bramble and I both ran to him and helped him up— we could not help it, although he was an enemy. He was not hurt, and as soon as he was on his legs he laughed, and thanked us in French. The cutter still continued the fight until we were within three miles of the coast, when, all her spars and sails being cut to pieces, she hauled to the wind and stood out to the offing.

"Well, Tom, there's all our hopes ended," said Bramble; "so now I'll light my pipe. Well, I say it's been a good fight on both sides."

Here the captain came up to us and said, "Bien oblige,—tank you."

The cutter did not, however, stand out for more than a few minutes, when she hove to and repaired damages, evidently intending to renew the action. I pointed this out to Bramble. "I see, I see," replied he; "she intends to try and cut us off from Morlaix, which is to windward, and oblige us to fight or run for St. Malo's, which is a long way to leeward; in either case she will be able to attack us again, as she outsails us: perhaps the fight is not over yet."

But the Frenchman also understood what he was about, and he now steered a course. When we were about two miles from the land, and about the same distance from the cutter, the latter kept away so as to oblige the ship to come to action again before she reached Morlaix; but, before she closed with us, we discovered that we were entering a small French port, which had not been visible to us, called (I think) Lanion, situated between Isle Bichat and Morlaix. When within a half a mile of the land, French over English was hoisted at our peak, and a French pennant over an English pennant at our main.

"I told you so," said Bramble; "they have made a man-of-war out of us, and now there'll be no end to the lies that they will tell; for though these French fellows do not fight quite so well as we do, at lying they'll beat us hollow, any day of the week. Never mind, Tom, we must keep a sharp look-out, and there's no saying—keep your eyes open as we go into the harbour—I never was here before, but I suspect it's nothing better than a poor fishing town."

In a quarter of an hour the ship and privateer were both made fast to an old stone pier which ran out from the town; but there were no other vessels in the harbour except two small coasting chasses marees, and about a dozen fishing-boats.

The harbour was formed by the mouth of a small river, which ran down through a very narrow alluvial flat, backed by precipitous rocks. On the right side of the river on entering, and on the level ground above mentioned, which extended back perhaps two hundred yards, until it was met by the rocky cliffs, was situated the village which, centuries back, must have been the town of Lanion. It consisted of perhaps one hundred to one hundred and twenty houses, few of them of any size, the major portion with walls built of mud and whitewashed over. The only remains of the former town were a stone-built market-place, the portion of the Hotel de Ville in which the mayor resided, and the old church, which, although perfect in its walls, was sadly dilapidated in the roof. It had long been deserted, and a small chapel had been built in lieu of it, in which the only cure of the place performed the service. The massive stones of which the now neglected pier had once been built proved that at one time considerable expense had been incurred in the formation of this small harbour.

A battery mounting two guns at the end of the pier protected the mouth of the harbour; and there was a guard of a sergeant and twelve invalids, who were stationed there to man the guns upon the approach of an enemy.

It would be difficult to describe the confusion which took place as soon as the two vessels were fairly alongside the wharf, and made fast with hawsers to the massive iron rings which had for centuries been fixed in the ponderous stones of which the pier was composed. There was the mayor with his cocked hat on, but his leather apron still tied in front, for he had been working at his calling; there was the sergeant of the invalids, who, perhaps, was a greater man than the mayor, all beard and mustachios, but so thin in his person, that he looked as if a stout breeze would have blown him away; and there were the soldiers leaning on their muskets. These were the most important personages, but they were backed by the whole population of the town, amounting to about three hundred men, women, and children, all talking, jabbering, and screaming: add to them the captain of the privateer, so important that he could not attend to even the mayor or the sergeant; and the privateer's men, dressed in every fashion, armed to the teeth, all explaining, or pushing away, or running here and there obeying orders; then the wounded men— for they had several men killed and others hurt in the conflict with the cutter—handed up one by one, bandaged here and there, and exciting the compassion and even screams of the women; the prisoners, who had been ordered to come on deck, half dressed and chapfallen; the sails of the vessels only dewed up, and still fluttering; ensigns and pennants hoisted upon every mast, and waving over the heads of the crowd assembled at the pier,—and you may have some idea of the confused and bustling scene.

At last, as there appeared no chance of anything being arranged while the people crowded round, the captain of the privateer ordered his men to draw their weapons and drive back the crowd, which was soon effected, notwithstanding many oaths, and more screaming on the part of the fairer sex; and when the crowd had been thus driven the men were stationed so as to keep them back. At first this gave offence to all parties—to the crowd, because they didn't like to be driven away—to the mayor, who remained with the sergeant and invalids in the area which had been cleared by the privateer's people, because he thought that they had interfered with his civil authority—and to the sergeant of invalids, because he thought that the marine force had interfered with his military authority; but the captain of the privateer having taken off his hat and bowed, first to the mayor and then to the sergeant, and saying how much he was obliged to them for their assistance, both parties were satisfied; and now a consultation was held between them how to proceed, while the privateer's men, who kept back the crowd, amused them by giving a detail of the two desperate actions which had been fought—no two accounts agreeing, certainly, but that was of no consequence.

The first question to be canvassed was, what was to be done with the prisoners? Morlaix was the nearest town in which they would be under safe keeping, but that was twenty miles distant, and it would be necessary to send over an express, so that a sufficient force might be dispatched to Lanion to escort the prisoners there. This Mr Mayor undertook to do immediately; a boy was summoned to take over the communication, and the mayor went up to write his letter to the authorities, while the wounded men were carried away, and by the direction of the cure, who had just arrived and joined the consultation, billeted upon different houses in the town. The express having been dispatched, and the wounded safely housed and under the care of the village Aesculapius, who never had such a job in his whole life, the next point of consultation was how to dispose of the prisoners until the force should arrive from Morlaix. Here the sergeant became the principal person, being military commandant: forty-seven prisoners were a heavy charge for twelve invalids; and as for the privateer's men, there was no dependence upon them, for, as the captain said, they had had enough to do to take them, and it was the business of the authorities to look after them now, while the privateer's men made merry.



CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

WITH THOSE POWERFUL AGENTS, FIRE AND WATER, WE CONTRIVE TO ESCAPE FROM A FRENCH PRISON.

After more than an hour of confusion and loud talking it was at last proposed and agreed to, nem con, that the prisoners should be confined in the old church; the twelve invalids to be divided into two parties, who were to be sentinels over them, relieving each other every four hours. The mayor immediately went forward with the village blacksmith to examine the state of the church doors, and ascertain how they might be secured—while the prisoners, having been summoned out of the privateer, were escorted up between two files of the privateer's men with their swords drawn, and followed by the whole population. As soon as we arrived at the church door the name of every prisoner was taken down by the mayor, attended by a notary, and then he was passed into the church. Bramble and I of course were marched up with the others, the captain of the privateer talking with us the whole way, through the young man who interpreted, informing us that an express had been sent over to Morlaix, to which town we should be escorted the next day, and then have better accommodation. As we stood at the huge doors of the church, which were opened for our reception, we perceived that the altar and all the decorations had been removed, and that, with the exception of the large wooden screen of carved oak near the altar, the church was completely bare. Bramble spoke to the interpreter, and said that he hoped the captain would request the mayor to allow the prisoners to have straw to lie down upon, as the pavement would be very cold. Although the mayor at first demurred at this demand, yet the captain of the privateer, probably out of good-will to Bramble, insisted, and the straw was ordered to be sent in. At last the mayor became impatient, we could delay no longer, and the doors were closed.

I had surveyed the church as we were escorted up to it: it was very large, capable, I should think, of holding more than two thousand people. The walls of the church were very massive, and the windows had but very few panes of glass remaining in them, but they were so very high as to prevent our climbing out of them, even if there had not been six sentinels guarding us outside. At one corner, to the right of the end of the church where the altar-piece had been, was a narrow stone tower, apparently an addition made to the Lady's Chapel long after the church had been originally built. When we were shut up we were enabled to survey the interior at our leisure. The whole was completely bare to the pavement until you came to the chancel part, near to which the altar had been, where the wooden screens and seats still remained, in a sad dilapidated state; but they must have once been very handsome, for the carving, where it was perfect, was very beautiful. A small thick wooden door, loaded with ironwork, communicated with the narrow tower, which had a flight of stone steps running up to the top, and narrow loopholes to give light as you ascended. While the majority of the prisoners were sitting down, here and there on the pavement, few of them entering into conversation, Bramble had, with me, taken a full survey of our locality.

"I tell you what, Tom: if we once get to Morlaix, all chance is over," said he: "we must either get out of this church this very night, or we must make up our minds to remain in prison Heaven knows how long."

"Have we any chance?"

"I'll tell you more about that in a little while."

The door of the church now opened, and the people brought in the straw for the beds, which they threw all in a heap in the centre of the church, and the doors were again closed.

"I see daylight now," said Bramble. "Tom, find the mate and boatswain, and bring them here to me quickly."

I did so, and Bramble asked them whether they were inclined to make an attempt to get clear.

They replied that they would join us in anything—they did not care what it was, and against any odds.

"Well, then," said Bramble, "my idea is this. You see there are but twelve old soldiers to guard us; for you may be certain that, before long, all the privateer's men will be as drunk as owls—that's but natural; not that I think of coming to any fight with them, but I make the observation because, if we get out, we shall have little to fear afterwards. Now, you see, I asked for the straw because the idea came in my head that it might be useful. You see, what I propose is, as there is plenty of wood in this part of the church, that we should wait till about three hours after dark—that is, until ten or eleven o'clock—and then set fire to the church. They must come and let us out, you know; at least I take it for granted that they will before the roof comes down: if they don't, we must force the doors ourselves—I've looked at them—and until we do, there is no fear of suffocating, for there are no panes to the windows; so, after all, it will only be a bonfire, without danger to anybody."

"Well, but what shall we gain by it?" said the mate: "we shall be walked out with the other prisoners, and how shall we then escape?"

"There it is: we will not be walked out with the other prisoners; and, in the confusion and hurry of taking them away to one place or another, they will not be likely to miss us. We will all go up this narrow tower, where we may remain, till the church falls in, with perfect safety; and then, when all is quiet again, and the people have left the spot, we will make for the pier, get one of the fishing-boats and be off. How do you like the idea?"

We all agreed that the plan was very feasible, and would attempt it.

"Well, then, we must remain quiet for the present; all you have to do is to fetch as much straw this way as you can by degrees: I expect they will bring us something to eat before long."

We removed a large portion of the straw to the chancel; in half an hour afterwards the doors were opened and rations of bread were brought in. What still more assisted our plans was, that the captain of the privateer at the same time, very good-naturedly, brought a demijohn of brandy, which he gave to Bramble.

Bramble thanked him through the interpreter, and told him that he would get well drunk that night.

"Yes, drive away care, captain says," replied the interpreter.

Once more the doors were closed, and we had no chance of further interruption.

By Bramble's direction, the mate, assisted by me and the boatswain, cast loose the remaining bundles of straw and shook them down as beds for the prisoners at the end of the church nearest to the door; and as soon as they had eaten their bread, Bramble gave them all a portion of the brandy, advising them to turn in soon, as we were to march very early the next morning. We remained with them at first, having taken our seats on the straw as if we also intended to repose. At last it became dusk, and then dark; the prisoners settled themselves to sleep; we left them and joined Bramble. Having arranged our straw so as to secure ignition, and leaving the mate and boatswain down below, Bramble and I, now that there was no chance of our being seen by the sentinels, ascended the tower. It commanded a view of the town and harbour: we looked down upon the main street—all was mirth and revelry; fiddling and dancing and singing were to be heard from more than one house; women in the street laughing, and now and then running and screaming when pursued by the men.

"This is all right," observed Bramble; "in an hour or two you'll see how quiet everything will be; but I shall not let them all go to bed before I set fire, for there may be some difficulty in waking them. I don't see that there's any lights down at the pier, where the vessels lie."

We stayed up there till about eleven o'clock, Bramble watching the lights and sounds; and when he considered that they had sufficiently decreased, he said, "Now we'll try it, Tom, and may success attend us!"

We descended and found the mate and boatswain anxiously waiting for us. Bramble struck a light with his flint, and we carried it to the screen where we had piled the straw under the seats and against the panels.

"Now then, messmates," said Bramble, "as long as the others sleep the better; but if they waken in the confusion, bring here all the straw you can collect, for we must not fail for want of fuel."

But of this there was no chance, for the wood of the screen and benches was so dry that it was alight immediately. For ten minutes the other prisoners and the guard outside did not appear to be aware of what was going on; but at last the church was so filled with smoke that they were roused up: still the principal smoke was in that portion of the church where we were; at the other end they were not much inconvenienced, as it found vent by the windows. What the invalids were about outside I do not know, but they did not perceive it; probably they had left their guard to go and carouse. At all events the flames had climbed up from the screen and had caught a portion of the roof before the Frenchmen knew that the church was on fire; the smoke was now exchanged for a bright clear flame, which had already found its way through the slating, and the prisoners were halloaing and screaming as loud as they could. We went to the part of the church where the others were, and joined the outcry. The voices of the people outside were now to be heard, for men and women had been summoned by the cry of the church being on fire: still there was no danger until the roof fell in, and that would not be the case for perhaps an hour, although it was now burning furiously, and the sparks and cinders were borne away to leeward, by the breeze. The screams of the prisoners now became dreadful: frightened out of their wits, they fully expected to be burnt alive; still the door was not opened, although we heard a loud consultation of many voices without.

"Well," said Bramble, "I hope they really don't mean to let us burn here; at all events, if they do, I can save the poor devils, for there's room enough on the stairs of the tower for twice as many. At all events we must hold on till the last moment."

As he said this we heard them outside put the key in the door, and immediately Bramble, the boatswain, mate, and I retreated from the crowd and gained the other portion of the church, which was most in flames. As the door opened we hastened to the tower door, and closing it after us, gained the staircase near the top, where we remained quiet; there was no want of smoke there, but still we could breathe pretty freely, as the fire from the roof was borne down by the wind from us and towards the people, who were at the front of the church. How they disposed of the other prisoners we do not know, as we dared not show ourselves; but in about half an hour the whole of the roof fell down upon the pavement, and nothing but the bare walls of the church were left standing.

After the roof fell in the light from the flames was so small that we ventured to the top of the tower to look out. There were still many people standing about, but the major part of them were gone. As the fire sank down so did the people go away; at last there was no one to be seen: we remained more than half an hour watching; light after light disappeared, and all was quiet as death.

"Now's our time," said Bramble, "but still we must be cautious; let us follow one another at about ten yards apart: if we meet with any one, pretend to be reeling as if drunk, and they may think we are privateer's-men not yet gone to bed."

We followed him down the stairs, gained the church, and trod over the still burning embers; as soon as we were clear of the walls we turned to the right in our way down to the harbour, keeping in the gloom as much as possible. We arrived safely at the pier, for there was not a soul stirring; all our fear was that we should find some one keeping watch on board of the vessels, which we must pass after we had possession of one of the fishing-boats, as they laid inside of them. But fortune favoured us every way; the boat we selected had her sails bent, and was not fastened with a chain, we were, therefore, in the stream in a moment; the tide was also running out strong, and we passed the vessels without having occasion to use our oars. The battery at the entrance of the harbour was also without its usual sentry, for the men had been called up to guard the prisoners. In half an hour we were clear of the harbour, and steering with a fine breeze for the English coast; and when daylight broke the French land was but just perceptible.

"Well," said Bramble, "praised be Heaven for all things. I expected to have lost my precious liberty for years, and I have only lost two shirts, one pair of trousers, and three pairs of worsted stockings."

We had nothing to eat or drink, but that we cared little for, as the wind was fair. About ten o'clock that night we landed at Cawsand Bay near Plymouth, where we sat down to a hearty supper; and when we went to bed, I did not forget to thank Providence for my unexpected escape.



CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

ANOTHER ESCAPE, MORE FORTUNATE THAN THE ONE RECORDED IN THE PRECEDING CHAPTER.

From the time that I had passed my examination, and worked as a pilot on my own account, until the period of our escape, which I have narrated in the preceding chapter, I had continued to live in the cottage with Bramble, without contributing any share to the expenses. I had at first proposed it, but Bramble would not listen to any such arrangement; he considered me, he said, as his son, and who knowed, he added, but that the cottage would be mine after he was gone. The fact was that Bramble ardently wished that Bessy and I should be united. He continually hinted at it, joked with Bessy about me; and I believe that, in consequence, Bessy's feelings towards me had taken the same bent. She was prepared for the issue; the regard naturally felt for me from her long intimacy, now that the indulgence of it was so openly sanctioned by him whom she considered as her father, was not checked on her part; indeed, there was no doubt but that it had ripened into love. She showed it in every little way that her maiden modesty did not interfere with, and old Bramble would at times throw out such strong hints of our eventual union as to make me feel very uncomfortable. They neither of them had any idea of my heart having been pre-engaged, and the strangeness of my manner was ascribed by Bramble to my feelings towards Bessy. Bessy, however, was not so easily deceived; my conduct towards her appeared, to say the best of it, very inconsistent. So often had I had opportunities, especially when I was at home and Bramble was away, of speaking on the subject, and so often had these opportunities been neglected, that it filled her mind with doubt and anxiety. After having accepted my addresses at first, Janet had once or twice written to me; latterly, however, she had not written herself—all her messages were through Virginia's letters, or, perhaps, she would add a little postscript. Had letters arrived for me in any other handwriting than that of Virginia, Bessy, after her suspicions were roused, might have easily guessed the truth; but it was the absence of any clue to guide her as to the state of my feelings which so much puzzled her. She was fully convinced that my heart was not hers, but she had no reason to suppose that it was in the possession of another. Thus did my passion for Janet Wilson in every way prove to me a source of anxiety. I knew that it was my duty to undeceive Bramble and Bessy, yet the task was too painful, and I could not make up my mind to make them unhappy. I felt that I had no right to remain under Bramble's roof and live at his expense, and, at the same time, I could not find an opportunity of telling him what my feelings and wishes were, the very mention of which would at once explain to him that the desire of his old age would never be accomplished. I often accused myself of ingratitude, and felt as if it were my duty to make every sacrifice to one who had been so kind a protector; but I was bound by vows to Janet Wilson, and how was it possible that I could retract?

Virginia's letters were not satisfactory: at first she told me how much she had been annoyed by the attentions of the young nobleman, and how very indelicate my mother had been in her conduct; eventually she informed me that she had been insulted by him, and that, upon complaining to my mother, the latter had, much to her surprise and indignation, not only laughed at his extreme forwardness, but pointed out to Virginia a line of conduct by which he might be entrapped into marriage; that her refusal to accede to such unworthy devices had created a serious breach between her mother and herself. She stated the young man to be extremely silly and weak, and that my mother had gained great influence over him; and were it not that the presence of the tutor, who seldom quitted the house, had proved a check, that there was little doubt but, as far as the young man was concerned, the disproportionate match would be readily acceded to; that the only person she had ventured to consult was her dear friend Mrs St. Felix, who had promised her, if the persecution did not cease, that she would make Mr Sommerville the tutor aware of what was going on. Virginia described the latter as an amiable modest young man, who did all in his power to instruct his pupil, but who was treated with anything but deference in return.

Relative to Janet she said little, except that she generally called there every day to make inquiries after me: once or twice she did say that it was a pity that I was not able to come oftener to Greenwich, as Janet was not very steady; indeed, considering how young she was, without a mother, and so little controlled by her father, it was not to be wondered at.

Such was the state of affairs when I made up my mind that I would speak to Bramble about my paying my share of the expenses, which I thought would open his eyes to the real state of my feeling towards Bessy: I did so; I pointed out to him that I was now earning money fast, and that I considered it but fair that I should support myself, and not put him to further expense; that perhaps it would be better that I should take a house for myself; as I must give a great deal of trouble to Bessy and Mrs Maddox.

"Well, Tom," said Bramble, "you've been at me about this before, and I believe it's a proper feeling, after all, it certainly does seem to me to be a matter of little consequence, as things stand; however, I can't consent to your leaving us. You have been with me ever since you were a lad, and I should feel like a fish out of water if I were to be without you or Bessy; so pay just what you please—I'll take it since you wish it—and there's an end of the matter."

This was not the end to which I was driving; but Bramble's eyes would not be opened, and I could not help it. He had never directly spoken to me about an union with Bessy, and therefore it was impossible for me to say any more. Bramble, however, did not fail to communicate what I had said to her; and one evening when we were standing on the shingle beach, she said to me, "So Emerson has been convicted for smuggling, and sentenced beyond the seas."

"I am sorry for it," replied I.

"His house is to be let now, Tom; would it not suit you? for my father told me that you wished to leave us."

"Why should I live upon you when I am able to support myself?"

"Certainly not. If it were not that I could not bear to see father miserable, I think it would be better if you did take Emerson's house; but it would vex him, poor good man."

"But not you, Bessy; is it that you mean?"

"Perhaps it is. Tell me yourself, Tom, would it not be better?"

I made no reply.

"Well," replied Bessy, "think of me as you please; I will speak now, Tom. I am not considering you, Tom, nor am I thinking of myself; I am only induced so to do on account of my father. We have been brought up together as children, Tom, and, as children, we were great friends, and, I believe, sincerely attached to each other. I believe it to be very true that those who are brought up together as brothers and sisters do not change that affection for any other more serious in after life. It is therefore not our faults if we cannot feel as, you must know, Tom, my father wishes we should. Am I not right?"

"You are, I believe, Bessy," replied I.

"My father, therefore, is deceiving himself with the hopes of what never can take place, but I know him even better than you do, Tom; it is the object of his daily thoughts—his only wish before he sinks into his grave. I cannot bear to undeceive him; no more can you, if I have truly judged your feelings."

"You have judged right, Bessy."

"The very circumstance of our knowing his wishes, the hints which he throws out, his joking on the subject, have been a source of annoyance to both of us; and not only a source of annoyance, Tom, it has estranged us—we no longer feel that affection which we should feel for each other, that kindness as between brother and sister which might exist; on the contrary, not being exactly aware of each other's feelings, we avoid each other, and fearful that the least kindness might be misconstrued, we do not really treat each as we otherwise would; in fact, it has destroyed our mutual confidence. Is it not so?"

"It is, I acknowledge, but too true, Bessy, and I thank you for having entered into this explanation—"

"Which, as I said before," continued Bessy, "I should not have done except for the sake of my father; but now that I have done so" (and here Bessy's voice became tremulous), "let us consult at once how we shall act so as to secure his happiness, and that in future we may return to the former confidence and regard which should exist between us as brother and sister."

"Point out how this is to be done, Bessy, and I will cheerfully enter into your wishes."

"We must laugh when he laughs, Tom, even if not inclined; we must gain time—that is very easy: I may refuse as long as he lives—you may put it off; and then, Tom, circumstances may help us—who knows what even a day may bring forth?"

"Very true," replied I, "there's only one thing—"

"What is that?"

"Suppose I was to marry?"

"Then," replied Bessy, in a voice half choked, as she turned away, "my father would be very unhappy."

I looked round to reply, but she had gone into the cottage. This conversation gave me great satisfaction. I felt convinced that if I had at one time formed the idea that Bessy was attached to me, I had been mistaken, and I was as indifferent to her as she was to me. I was just as anxious as she was not to vex Bramble, and equally glad that confidence was restored between us. Alas! I must have been very blind not to have perceived what was the true state of her feelings, but I did not, and after some reflection I determined that I would make her a confidant of my passion for Janet Wilson; and then I walked to the post-office to see if there were any letters from Virginia. There was a letter for me—a double one. As soon as I had paid the money, I opened it; it was very closely written, and evidently Virginia had much to communicate to me. I forgot for the moment Bessy and Bramble, thought only of Janet, and put the letter to my lips as I walked away, that I might go home and read it. I hurried past Bessy, who was in the parlour, and went up the stairs into my bed-room, where I took my letter out of my pocket and commenced it.

"MY DEAR TOM,—15th April.

"I shall begin a letter to you now, and fill it up as a sort of a diary; as it is the best plan, I think, to narrate circumstances as they actually take place. It is unpleasant to say anything against my mother, the more so as I believe that she thinks she has been doing right, and has my interest sincerely at heart: she appears to consider that an alliance with people of rank cannot be purchased too dear, and that every attempt is justifiable to secure for me such an advantage. Little does she know me: if she forgets, I never shall, that I am the daughter of a Greenwich pensioner, and never would ally myself with those whose relations would look upon me as a disgrace to their family. No, Tom; even if I were so heedless as to allow my affections to be enthralled, I would at any sacrifice refuse to enter into a family much beyond my condition. I have thought of this often, and I confess that I am sometimes unhappy. I have been brought up and educated above my situation in life, and I do not think I ever could marry a person who was not more refined and educated than those who are really and truly my equals. But as, at the same time, I never will enter into a family who might look down upon my parentage, I presume your little Virginia must remain unmarried. If so, I am content—I have no wish to alter my present condition. I am happy and respected; and with the exception of the trifling annoyances which we all must expect and must submit to, I have no reason to be dissatisfied; on the contrary, I have to be grateful for many blessings, and I trust that I am so. My poor mother is the cause of all my present vexations. She tells me that my beauty, as she is partially pleased to call it, is sufficient for my aspiring to the hand of a duke, and that it will be my own fault if I do not make a high connection. Every night she has been overwhelming me with alternate reproaches and entreaties to permit the attentions of the gay gentleman who is now lodging at our house, stating that it was on my account only that he took the apartments, and that, if I play my cards well, he will be caught in his own trap, which, I presume, is as much as to say that he came here with different intentions, and finding that he cannot succeed, will secure his intended prize or victim by marriage rather than not obtain her at all. Very flattering, truly! and this is the man to whom my mother would induce me to confide my future happiness—a man who, independent of his want of probity, is a fool into the bargain. But the persecution—on his part and on that of my mother now becomes so annoying, that I have requested Mrs St. Felix to speak to Mr Sommerville the tutor, who, if he does his duty—and I have every reason to believe that he will do so—will take some measures to remove his pupil from our house.

"17th. Mrs St. Felix and Mr Sommerville have had a meeting. He generally walks out every afternoon in the park; and Mrs St. Felix and he have already been introduced: she therefore went out and met him, and after exchanging a few words she introduced the subject, stating that she did so at my request. Mr Sommerville, although he had not been blind, had had no idea that things had proceeded so far; and he promised Mrs St. Felix that he would soon put an end to the persecution, or remove him from our house. Janet has been here to-day, and I told her what had passed; she very much approved of the steps which I had taken. I must, however, say that latterly she has not appeared to take that interest about you that she used to do, and I fear that your continual absence is injurious to your prospects. She is very young and very giddy, Tom: I wish she had been older, as, even when she is your wife, she will require much looking after, and a firm hand to settle her down into what a married woman in my opinion ought to be. Mr Sommerville has requested me to favour him with a few minutes' conversation; and as I cannot do it in our house, for my mother never leaves me a minute to myself; I told him that I should be at Mrs St. Felix's this afternoon, and he could speak to me then. He knows that I have no secrets from Mrs St. Felix; and although it is not pleasant to resort to such means, still there can be no impropriety in my hearing what he has to tell me in her presence.

"I have seen Mr Sommerville—he thanked me very much for having communicated, through Mrs St. Felix, my mother's plot against his protege; and paid me many compliments upon my behaviour, which were quite unnecessary. He told me that he had spoken to his pupil, who had most positively denied his having any such intention, and stated that he was merely amusing himself; and he had pledged himself not to take the least notice of me for the future. 'I am well aware,' said he, 'that what he has stated is not correct; he has not deceived me by his assertions; and were it not that I feel confidence in you, Miss Virginia,' continued he, 'I would write to his father that he might be immediately removed. I hardly need say, that should anything of this kind take place, I should be most severely blamed: it is not the first time that I have been compelled to interfere, for my pupil is of a very susceptible disposition, and has fancied himself in love with at least five young people since he has been under my charge. In this instance,' continued he, making me a bow, 'he has some extenuation to offer. Will you oblige me by informing me if he adheres to his promise? or do you wish that I should speak to your mother?'

"Mrs St. Felix replied that it would be unnecessary; indeed, that if Lord —- left the house I should only be subject to fresh persecution. Mr Sommerville, at her request, stayed to drink tea, and is certainly a very pleasant, well-informed, amiable young man.

"23rd. I have received no molestation since the explanation with Mr Sommerville, except from my mother, who accuses me of having affronted Lord —-; and although I deny it, she asserts that he never could have so changed his conduct towards both of us if I had not so done. I have not seen Janet this week—I cannot imagine what has become of her.

"24th. You may imagine my joy, my dear Tom: Mr Sommerville has received a letter, stating that his lordship is to go down to his father's seat in the country, as he will be of age in a month, and he is to make acquaintance with the tenants;—there are to be great rejoicings there upon his coming of age. I am sure no one can rejoice more than I shall when he leaves, which is to be next Saturday. I am also very glad to say that the Marquess has presented Mr Sommerville with a valuable living, now that he gives up his tutorship. I really think he will do justice to his profession, for I have seen more of him lately, and esteem him very much.

"27th. They are gone, much to my mother's mortification, and to my delight; and now, as I have written so much about myself; I shall leave this letter open till I see Janet, that I may tell you something about her, otherwise I know my letter will not be interesting to you.

"31st. My dear Tom, you must prepare yourself for painful intelligence.

"Janet has disappeared. She left her father's house last night after the family had retired, but no one knows where: she left a few lines on her table, stating that they would hear from her soon. Poor Mr Wilson was here to-day—he is half distracted—and the whole town is full of the scandal. Mrs St. Felix told me this morning that she has discovered that within the last week she has been seen walking on the London Road with Lord —-. Is it possible?

"2nd May. It is all true—Mrs St. Felix has a letter from Mr Sommerville, stating that Janet was brought up to town and married to Lord —- two days ago. It appears, that from the time that I repulsed his attentions, he fixed them upon Janet; that she encouraged him, and used to meet him every night, as Mrs St. Felix was informed. Mr Sommerville has seen his father, and fully exculpated himself; but the Marquess declares, as his son is a minor, that the marriage shall not be binding. How it will end Heaven only knows; but she is much to be pitied. This will account for her not coming to me as usual. Now, Tom, I do not suppose you will pay attention to me at present, but from what I knew of Janet, and which her conduct has fully proved, she was not worthy to be your wife, and could not have contributed to your happiness. I pity you from my heart, as I know what you will feel; but still I congratulate you, and eventually you will congratulate yourself at your fortunate escape.

"I will say no more at present, except that I am, and ever will be,

"Your truly attached sister,

"VIRGINIA."

I had courage to finish the letter, and then it dropped from my hands. I was bewildered, stupefied, maddened. As my sister said, I did indeed feel. Was it possible? Janet, who had—mercy on me! I threw myself on the bed, and there I remained till the next morning in a state most pitiable.

It is only those who have been deceived in their first attachment who can appreciate my agony of feeling. For the first few hours I hated the whole world, and, had then the means been at hand, should in all probability have hastened into another; but gradually my excitement abated; I found relief in tears of sorrow and indignation. I arose at daylight the next morning, worn out with contending feelings, heavy and prostrated in mind. I went out—stood on the beach, the keen breeze cooled my fevered cheek. For hours I leant motionless upon an anchor, all hope of future happiness abandoned for ever.



CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

WHICH IS ALL ABOUT LOVE—BRAMBLE CONFIDES TO ME ALL HIS ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE TENDER PASSION.

To conceal from Bramble or Bessy the state of mind to which I was reduced was impossible. I was in a condition of prostration against which I could not rally; and I believe that there never was a person who had been disappointed in his first love who did not feel as I did—that is, if he really loved with a sincere, pure, and holy feeling; for I do not refer to the fancied attachments of youth, which may be said to be like the mere flaws of wind which precede the steady gale. I could not, for several days, trust myself to speak, I sat silent and brooding over the words, the looks, the smiles, the scenes which had promised me a store of future happiness—such as would probably have been the case, as far as we can be happy in this world, had I fixed my affections upon a true and honest, instead of a fickle and vain, woman; had I built my house upon a rock, instead of one upon the sand—which, as pointed out by the Scriptures, had been washed away, and had disappeared for ever! Bramble and Bessy in vain attempted to gain from me the cause of my dejection; I believe that they had many conversations upon it when I was absent, but whatever may have been their surmises, they treated me with every kindness and consideration. About a week after I had received the letter, Bramble said to me, "Come, Tom, we have had an easterly wind for ten days now, they are going off in a galley to-morrow—suppose we go too; it's no use staying here moping and doing nothing. You've been out of sorts lately, and it will do you good." I thought so too, and consented; but the other pilots were not ready, and our departure was deferred till the day after. Bramble had acquainted me in the morning with this delay; I was annoyed at it, for I was restless, and wished for change. My bundle had been prepared; I had passed the best part of the night in writing to Virginia, and was, as people very often are when under such oppressed feelings, in anything but a good humour at being obliged to remain another day at Deal. I had walked out to the beach after we had breakfasted, and had remained there some time. Bramble had gone out in the direction of the post-office, and I asked him to inquire if there was a letter for me, for I thought it very likely that Virginia might have written to me again. I had remained for an hour on the beach, when I recollected that my knife required to be sharpened, and I walked round the cottage to the back yard, where there was a small grindstone. I had not put my knife to it, when I heard Bramble come in and say to Bessy—

"Well, girl, I've found it all out; for, you see, I thought old Anderson might know something about it, or, if he did not, he could inquire,—and I've got the whole story. Here's Anderson's letter. I thought there must be something of that sort."

Here there was a pause, as if Bessy was reading the letter.

"Only to think—she's run away with a young lord," said Bramble. "So it seems," replied Bessy. "I'm sorry for poor Tom, for he feels it severely."

"I'm not sorry," rejoined Bramble; "she wasn't deserving of him; and, Bessy, I'm glad for your sake."

"Don't say that, father; Tom will never think of me, nor do I care about him."

"I don't exactly believe that, Bessy, for all you say so. It's my wish, and you know it, Bessy, to see you and Tom spliced before I die; and I thank Heaven, that this false girl is out of the way—I've more hopes now."

"Marriages are made in heaven, father," replied Bessy; "so, pray don't say anything more about it. It will be time enough for me to think of Tom when Tom appears to think of me. I shall always love him as a brother."

"Well, God's will be done! We must now try and console him, poor fellow: and I'm very glad that we're off to-morrow. Salt water cures love, they say, sooner than anything else."

"It may, perhaps," replied Bessy; "but I feel that if I were once really in love the whole ocean itself could not wash my love out. However, women are not men."

"That's true. You hug your love as you do your babies, all day long, and never tire. Now, you see, a man gets tired of nursing in no time;— I never was in love but once."

"Oh, father, I've heard that story so often."

"Well, then, you shan't hear it again. Now, I'll go out and see where Tom may be. I suppose he's looking at the wind, and thinking how it changes like a woman. But I'll light my pipe first."

"Do, father; and while Tom looks at the wind and thinks of women, do you just watch the smoke out of your pipe, and think of men and their constancy."

"Well, I will, if it pleases you. Put the letter by, Bessy, for I shouldn't like Tom to see it. What have you got for dinner?"

"I left that to Mrs Maddox, so I can't tell. But there's cold pudding in the larder; I'll put it out for Tom."

"Nay, Bessy, you must not jest with him."

"Am I likely, think you, father?" replied Bessy; "can't I feel for him?"

"Come, come, dearest, I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I'm not crying, but I'm very sorry for Tom, and that's the truth. Now go away with your pipe, and leave me alone."

It was impossible for me to have returned without being perceived, and I therefore remained during the whole of this conversation. I was annoyed to discover that they knew my secret; and still more vexed at the remainder of this colloquy, by which I discovered that Bramble had so completely set his heart upon an union between me and Bessy, which I considered as impossible. I felt, as all do at the time, as if I never could love again. I walked away, and did not return home till dinner-time. Bramble and Bessy were very kind, although they did not talk much; and when I went away the next day I was moved with the affectionate farewell of the latter.

It was a beautiful night, and we were running before the east wind, the Portland Light upon our starboard beam; the other men in the boat had laid down in their gregos and pilot jackets, and were fast asleep, while Bramble was at the helm steering; and I, who was too restless in my mind to feel any inclination to repose, was sitting on the stern-sheets beside him.

"Do you see the line of the Race?" said Bramble; "it seems strong to-night."

Bramble referred to what is called by the mariners the Race of Portland, where the uneven ground over which the water runs creates a very heavy sea even in a calm. Small smuggling vessels and boats, forced into it in bad weather, have often foundered. The tide, however, runs so rapidly over it that you are generally swept through it in a few minutes, and then find yourself again in comparatively smooth water.

"Yes," replied I; "it is very strong to-night, from the long continuance of the easterly wind."

"Exactly so, Tom," continued Bramble. "I've often thought that getting into that Race is just like falling in love."

"Why so?" replied I, rather pettishly, for I was not pleased at his referring to the subject.

"I'll tell you why, Tom," said Bramble; "because, you see, when we get into the Race, it's all boiling and bubbling and tossing about—rudder and sails are of no use; and you are carried along by a fierce tide, which there's no resisting, with no small damage to the upper works, until you are fairly out again, and find breath to thank God for it. Now, aren't that like love?"

"I suppose it is as you say so; you know best."

"Well, I think I do know best; because, you see, I have long been clear of it. I never was in love but once, Tom; did I ever tell you about it?"

"Never," replied I.

"Well, then, as 'twill pass time away, I'll just give you the long and the short of it, as the saying is. When I was just about twenty, and a smart lad in my own opinion, I was on board of a transport, and we had gone round to Portsmouth with a load of timber for the dockyard. It was not my first trip there, for, you see, the transport was employed wholly on that service; and during my cruising on shore I had taken up my quarters at the Chequer Board, a house a little way from the common Hard, in the street facing the dockyard wall; for, you see, Tom, it was handy to us, as our ship laid at the wharf, off the mast pond, it being just outside the dockyard gates. The old fellow who kept the house was as round as a ball, for he never started out by any chance from one year's end, to another; his wife was dead; and he had an only daughter, who served at the bar, in a white cap with blue streamers; and when her hair was out of papers, and she put on clean shoes and stockings, which she did every day after dinner, she was a very smart neat built little heifer; and, being an only daughter, she was considered as a great catch to any one who could get hold of her. She had quite the upper hand of her father, who dared not say a word; and with others she would give herself no few airs. At one time she would be as sweet as sugar, and the next, without any cause, she'd 'wonder at your imperance.' It was difficult to know how to take her: it's a bad thing for a girl to have a great fortune; they get so much flattery that it turns their heads. Well, Tom, I wasn't looking after the money, as you'll believe when I tell you so; but as she was very chatty with me, and allowed me to come inside the bar, which was considered as a great favour, to help rinse the glasses, and so on, and as the other men used to joke with me, and tell me that I should carry off the prize, I began to think that she was fond of me, and so very naturally I became fond of her; and we met and we parted (and she would allow me to kiss her when we parted), until I was quite gone altogether, and did nothing but think of her all day and dream of her all night. Well, the last time that I was in the transport to Portsmouth, I had made up my mind to clench the business, and as soon as the sails were furled, I dressed myself in my best toggery, and made all sail for the old house. When I came in I found Peggy in the bar, and a very fancy sort of young chap alongside of her. I did not think so much of that, and I was going inside the bar to shake hands as usual, when says she, 'Well, I should not wonder,' pulling to the half-door, as if she were surprised at my attempting to come in.

"'Oh, ho!' says I, 'are you on that tack? what next?' and then I looked more at the chap, and he was a very nice young man, as the saying is. As I afterwards found out, he was in the smuggling line between Cherbourg and our coast, and he had Frenchified manners, and he talked little bits of French, and he had French gloves for presents, and had ear-rings in his ears, and lots of rings on his fingers. So I took my seat at the wooden benches near the fire, just as sulky as a bear with a sore head, watching their manoeuvres: at last he walked out, kissing his hand as she smiles. As the coast was clear I went up to the bar.

"'Well,' says I, 'Peggy, so the wind's shifted, is it?'

"'What do you mean?' says she. 'I suppose I may be civil to another person as well as to you.'

"'Yes, I see no objection,' says I; 'but why was he to be inside the bar, and I put out?'

"'Oh,' replied she, 'one at a time, you know, Mr Philip. I haven't made any promises to you that I know of.'

"'That's very true,' replied I, 'but—'

"'Oh, you mustn't fret here,' interrupted she. 'I'm my own mistress, I suppose. However, I'll tell you this much, that I don't care a bit about him, and that's the truth of it—but I did not like your coming inside the bar so quietly, as if you had a right there, for I don't want people to make remarks.'

"Well, the end of it was that she pacified me, and we were as great friends almost as ever: I say almost, for I had my eyes upon her and that chap, and did not much like it. A week after my arrival there was to be a fair over at Ryde, in the Isle of Wight, and I asked Peggy whether she would go with me; but she refused, saying that she was obliged to go to her aunt's out at Limberhook, who was very old, and had sent for her, so I thought nothing more about the matter. Well, the day before the fair, as we were busy in the forenoon getting the timber out of the vessel, one of my shipmates, who went to the same house, says to me, 'I say, Tom, when I was at the Chequers last night, I overheard Peggy promise to go to the Ryde Fair with that Frenchified smuggling chap.'

"'Did you?' said I.

"'Yes,' replied he, 'and they agreed to start at twelve o'clock, just after the dockyard bell rang: I thought at the time it was just to give you the slip before you left the ship, and that she is turning you over.'

"Well, when I heard this, did not my blood boil? for the hussy had told me a lie in saying that she was going to her aunt's; and it was evident that she had done so, that she might go with this other fellow to the fair. I thought the matter over and over again, for, to tell you the truth, all I wanted then was revenge. I felt nothing but scorn for a woman who could act in so base a manner; at the same time I wished to punish both her and him by spoiling their day's sport; so at last I determined that I would start right away for the fair myself, and not only put her to shame, but give her fancy man a good drubbing, which I was well able to do. So I walks down to Point and gets into a wherry, keeping a sharp look-out for their coming down from the Hard. At last I spied them, and then I made the waterman pull away, so as to keep about three cables' length ahead of them, and thus I continued watching their billing and cooing, and grinding my teeth with rage, until we had come over to the other side. Now, you see, Tom, at that time there was no wooden pier at Ryde as there is now, and when the tide was out there was such a long flat of mud that there was no landing; so the way it was managed was, the wherries came in as far as they could, and were met by a horse and cart, which took out the passengers and carried them through the mud and water to the hard ground. Well, when I pulled in, the man was there with his horse and cart, and I paid my fare, and stepped out of the wherry, expecting the man to drive off and put me on shore; but he seeing that there was another wherry close at hand, says he must wait for her passengers, and make one trip of it. I did not care how soon we met, and waited very patiently until they pulled up to us. They were not a little surprised to see me, and not a little annoyed either. As for Peggy, she coloured to her elbows, and then tried to put up an impudent face on the matter. He looked both foolish and angry. They were both very smart. She had on a white gown with a yellow handkerchief on her shoulders, a green silk bonnet and blue feathers, and he was figged out as fine as five-pence, with white jean trousers, and rings and chains, and Lord knows what.

"'Well,' says Peggy, as bold as brass, 'who'd have thought to have seen you here?'

"'I did not say that I was going to see my aunt,' replied I; 'but as you did, who would have expected to see you here?'

"'Don't talk to me, young man,' said she, as red as fire, and turning away to her beau.

"Just as she said this, the cart drove off, the horse floundering through the mud, which was about three feet deep, with a matter of six inches of water above it. As she turned away aft, I turned forward, thinking what I should do next, and then I cast my eyes down, and observed that it was a tilting cart as they use for carrying out manure; and that if I took the two pegs out it would fall right back. I thought this a capital trick. The carman was sitting on his horse, and it couldn't matter to him, so I stepped out on the front of the cart, and standing on the shafts, I first pulled out one peg and then another, while they were busy talking to each other, with their heads so close that his face was under her bonnet. As soon as the second peg was out, I helped up the front of the cart a little, and back it went, shooting them out right headforemost in the mud. You never saw such a scramble, for they had caught hold of each other in their fright, and they rolled and floundered, and were half smothered before they could recover their feet; and then a pretty pickle they were in, wet to the skin, and covered with mud from one end to the other; they could not see out of their eyes. Peggy did nothing but scream and flounder—she was frightened out of her wits—while the carman and I laughed ready to split. I gave him half a crown to drive on shore without them, which he did, and we left them to make their way out how they could; and a pretty pickle they did come out at last. Thus was their day's pleasure as well as their clothes all spoilt; and instead of dancing at the fair and seeing all the sights, they were shivering in their wet clothes, and the laughingstocks to all that saw them.