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_ But I did not go direct to the Star and Garter. No, I lacked the courage
to say to John Paul: "You have trusted me, and this is how I have
rewarded your faith." And the thought that Dorothy's father, of all men,
had served me thus, after what I had gone through, filled me with a
bitterness I had never before conceived. And when my brain became
clearer I reflected that Mr. Manners had had ample time to learn of my
disappearance from Maryland, and that his action had been one of design,
and of cold blood. But I gave to Dorothy or her mother no part in it.
Mr. Manners never had had cause to hate me, and the only reason I could
assign was connected with his Grace of Chartersea, which I dismissed as
absurd.
A few drops of rain warned me to seek shelter. I knew not where I was,
nor how long I had been walking the streets at a furious pace. But a
huckster told me I was in Chelsea; and kindly directed me back to Pall
Mall. The usual bunch of chairmen was around the hotel entrance, but I
noticed a couple of men at the door, of sharp features and unkempt dress,
and heard a laugh as I went in. My head swam as I stumbled up the stairs
and fumbled at the knob, when I heard voices raised inside, and the door
was suddenly and violently thrown open. Across the sill stood a big,
rough-looking man with his hands on his hips.
"Oho! Here be the other fine bird a-homing, I'll warrant," he cried.
The place was full. I caught sight of Davenport, the tailor, with a wry
face, talking against the noise; of Banks, the man I had hired,
resplendent in my livery. One of the hotel servants was in the corner
perspiring over John Paul's chests, and beside him stood a man
disdainfully turning over with his foot the contents, as they were thrown
on the floor. I saw him kick the precious vellum-hole waistcoat across
the room in wrath and disgust, and heard him shout above the rest:
"The lot of them would not bring a guinea from any Jew in St. Martin's
Lane!"
In the other corner, by the writing-desk, stood the hatter and the
haberdasher with their heads together. And in the very centre of the
confusion was the captain himself. He was drest in his new clothes
Davenport had brought, and surprised me by his changed appearance, and
looked as fine a gentleman as any I have ever seen. His face lighted
with relief at sight of me.
"Now may I tell these rogues begone, Richard?" he cried. And turning
to the man confronting me, he added, "This gentleman will settle their
beggarly accounts."
Then I knew we had to do with bailiffs, and my heart failed me.
"Likely," laughed the big man; "I'll stake my oath he has not a groat to
pay their beggarly accounts, as year honour is pleased to call them."
They ceased jabbering and straightened to attention, awaiting my reply.
But I forgot them all, and thought only of the captain, and of the
trouble I had brought him. He began to show some consternation as I went
up to him.
"My dear friend," I said, vainly trying to steady my voice, "I beg,
I pray that you will not lose faith in me,--that you will not think any
deceit of mine has brought you to these straits. Mr. Dix did not know
me, and has had no word from my grandfather of my disappearance. And Mr.
Manners, whom I thought my friend, spurned me in the street before the
Duke of Chartersea."
And no longer master of myself, I sat down at the table and hid my face,
shaken by great sobs, to think that this was my return for his kindness.
"What," I heard him cry, "Mr. Manners spurned you, Richard! By all
the law in Coke and Littleton, he shall answer for it to me. Your
fairweather fowl shall have the chance to run me through!"
I sat up in bewilderment, doubting my senses.
"You believe me, captain," I said, overcome by the man's faith; "you
believe me when I tell you that one I have known from childhood refused
to recognize me to-day?"
He raised me in his arms as tenderly as a woman might.
"And the whole world denied you, lad, I would not. I believe you--"and
he repeated it again and again, unable to get farther.
And if his words brought tears to my eyes, my strength came with them.
"Then I care not," I replied; "I only to live to reward you."
"Mr. Manners shall answer for it to me!" cried John Paul again, and made
a pace toward the door.
"Not so fast, not so fast, captain, or admiral, or whatever you are,"
said the bailiff, stepping in his way, for he was used to such scenes;
"as God reigns, the owners of all these fierce titles be fire-eaters, who
would spit you if you spilt snuff upon 'em. Come, come, gentlemen, your
swords, and we shall see the sights o' London."
This was the signal for another uproar, the tailor shrieking that John
Paul must take off the suit, and Banks the livery; asking the man in the
corner by the sea-chests (who proved to be the landlord) who was to pay
him for his work and his lost cloth. And the landlord shook his fist at
us and shouted back, who was to pay him his four pounds odd, which
included two ten-shilling dinners and a flask of his best wine? The
other tradesmen seized what was theirs and made off with remarks
appropriate to the occasion. And when John Paul and my man were divested
of their plumes, we were marched downstairs and out through a jeering
line of people to a hackney coach.
"Now, sirs, whereaway?" said the bailiff when we were got in beside one
of his men, and burning with the shame of it; "to the prison? Or I has a
very pleasant hotel for gentlemen in Castle Yard."
The frightful stories my dear grandfather had told me of the Fleet came
flooding into my head, and I shuddered and turned sick. I glanced at
John Paul.
"A guinea will not go far in a sponging-house," said he, and the
bailiff's man laughed.
The bailiff gave a direction we did not hear, and we drove off.
He proved a bluff fellow with a bloat yet not unkindly humour, and
despite his calling seemed to have something that was human in him.
He passed many a joke on that pitiful journey in an attempt to break our
despondency, urging us not to be downcast, and reminding us that the last
gentleman he had taken from Pall Mall was in over a thousand pounds, and
that our amount was a bagatelle. And when we had gone through Temple
Bar, instead of keeping on down Fleet Street, we jolted into Chancery
Lane. This roused me.
"My friend has warned you that he has no money," I said, "and no more
have I."
The bailiff regarded me shrewdly.
"Ay," he replied, "I know. But I has seen many stripes o' men in my
time, my masters, and I know them to trust, and them whose silver I must
feel or send to the Fleet."
I told him unreservedly my case, and that he must take his chance of
being paid; that I could not hear from America for three months at least.
He listened without much show of attention, shaking his head from side to
side.
"If you ever cheated a man, or the admiral here either, then I begin over
again," he broke in with decision; "it is the fine sparks from the clubs
I has to watch. You'll not worry, sir, about me. Take my oath I'll get
interest out of you on my money."
Unwilling as we both were to be beholden to a bailiff, the alternative of
the Fleet was too terrible to be thought of. And so we alighted after
him with a shiver at the sight of the ugly, grimy face of the house, and
the dirty windows all barred with double iron. In answer to a knock we
were presently admitted by a turnkey to a vestibule as black as a tomb,
and the heavy outer door was locked behind us. Then, as the man cursed
and groped for the keyhole of the inner door, despair laid hold of me.
Once inside, in the half light of a narrow hallway, a variety of noises
greeted our ears,--laughter from above and below, interspersed with
oaths; the click of billiard balls, and the occasional hammering of a
pack of cards on a bare table before the shuffle. The air was close
almost to suffocation, and out of the coffee room, into which I glanced,
came a heavy cloud of tobacco smoke.
"Why, my masters, why so glum?" said the bailiff; "my inn is not such a
bad place, and you'll find ample good company here, I promise you."
And he led us into a dingy antechamber littered with papers, on every one
of which, I daresay, was written a tragedy. Then he inscribed our names,
ages, descriptions, and the like in a great book, when we followed him up
three flights to a low room under the eaves, having but one small window,
and bare of furniture save two narrow cots for beds, a broken chair, and
a cracked mirror. He explained that cash boarders got better, and added
that we might be happy we were not in the Fleet.
"We dine at two here, gentlemen, and sup at eight. This is not the Star
and Garter," said he as he left us.
It was the captain who spoke first, though he swallowed twice before the
words came out.
"Come, Richard, come, laddie," he said, "'tis no so bad it micht-na be
waur. We'll mak the maist o' it."
"I care not for myself, Captain Paul," I replied, marvelling the more at
him, "but to think that I have landed you here, that this is my return
for your sacrifice."
"Hoots! How was ye to foresee Mr. Manners was a blellum?" And he broke
into threats which, if Mr. Marmaduke had heard and comprehended, would
have driven him into the seventh state of fear. "Have you no other
friends in London?" he asked, regaining his English.
I shook my head. Then came--a question I dreaded.
"And Mr. Manners's family?"
"I would rather remain here for life," I said, "than to them now."
For pride is often selfish, my dears, and I did not reflect that if I
remained, the captain would remain likewise.
"Are they all like Mr. Manners?"
"That they are not," I returned with more heat than was necessary; "his
wife is goodness itself, and his daughter--" Words failed me, and I
reddened.
"Ah, he has a daughter, you say," said the captain, casting a significant
look at me and beginning to pace the little room. He was keener than I
thought, this John Paul.
If it were not so painful a task, my dears, I would give you here some
notion of what a London sponging-house was in the last century. Comyn
has heard me tell of it, and I have seen Bess cry over the story. Gaming
was the king-vice of that age, and it filled these places to overflowing.
Heaven help a man who came into the world with that propensity in the
early days of King George the Third. Many, alas, acquired it before they
were come to years of discretion. Next me, at the long table where we
were all thrown in together,--all who could not pay for private meals,--
sat a poor fellow who had flung away a patrimony of three thousand a
year. Another had even mortgaged to a Jew his prospects on the death of
his mother, and had been seized by the bailiffs outside of St. James's
palace, coming to Castle Yard direct from his Majesty's levee. Yet
another, with such a look of dead hope in his eyes as haunts me yet,
would talk to us by the hour of the Devonshire house where he was born,
of the green valley and the peaceful stream, and of the old tower-room,
caressed by trees, where Queen Bess had once lain under the carved oak
rafters. Here he had taken his young wife, and they used to sit
together, so he said, in the sunny oriel over the water, and he had sworn
to give up the cards. That was but three years since, and then all had
gone across the green cloth in one mad night in St. James's Street.
Their friends had deserted them, and the poor little woman was lodged in
Holborn near by, and came every morning with some little dainty to the
bailiff's, for her liege lord who had so used her. He pressed me to
share a fowl with him one day, but it would have choked me. God knows
where she got the money to buy it. I saw her once hanging on his neck in
the hall, he trying to shield her from the impudent gaze of his fellow-
lodgers.
But some of them lived like lords in luxury, with never a seeming regret;
and had apartments on the first floor, and had their tea and paper in
bed, and lounged out the morning in a flowered nightgown, and the rest of
the day in a laced coat. These drank the bailiff's best port and
champagne, and had nothing better than a frown or haughty look for us,
when we passed them at the landing. Whence the piper was paid I knew
not, and the bailiff cared not. But the bulk of the poor gentlemen were
a merry crew withal, and had their wit and their wine at table, and knew
each other's histories (and soon enough ours) by heart. They betted away
the week at billiards or whist or picquet or loo, and sometimes measured
swords for diversion, tho' this pastime the bailiff was greatly set
against; as calculated to deprive him of a lodger.
Although we had no money for gaming, and little for wine or tobacco, the
captain and I were received very heartily into the fraternity. After one
afternoon of despondency we both voted it the worst of bad policy to
remain aloof and nurse our misfortune, and spent our first evening in
making acquaintances over a deal of very thin "debtor's claret."
I tossed long that night on the hard cot, listening to the scurrying rats
among the rooftimbers. They ran like the thoughts in my brain. And
before I slept I prayed again and again that God would put it in my power
to reward him whom charity for a friendless foundling had brought to a
debtor's prison.
Not so much as a single complaint or reproach had passed his lips! _
Read next: VOLUME 4: CHAPTER XXV. The Rescue
Read previous: VOLUME 4: CHAPTER XXIII. London Town
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