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The Two Shipmates, a fiction by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 9 |
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_ CHAPTER NINE. Kind Mrs Judson had gone to her own house. Jessie was seated at her work near the window for the sake of the light on an evening in the spring of the year, when she saw a man in a sailor's dress pass the garden gate, then stop and make inquiries of a passer by. Presently he came back, and opening the gate, knocked at the door. Her heart beat violently. He was a stranger, not at all like Ralph; but could he have brought news of him? She flew to open the door. "Beg pardon, ma'am; are you Jessie Flamank?" asked the stranger, pulling off his hat with a sailor's courtesy. "Oh, who are you? Oh, tell me why you have come!" exclaimed Jessie, scarcely able in her agitation to utter the words. "Why, do you see, I'm an old shipmate of one you knew once upon a time, and I thought as now I was at Plymouth I'd come and look you up and see how you were getting on, and have a talk about him," answered the man, stepping in as Jessie made way for him. "Then do you bring me no news of him--of Ralph Michelmore?" she asked, in a trembling voice. "Not what you may call news; seeing as how it's better than two years since I last set eyes on my old messmate," answered the stranger, taking a chair, while Jessie, unable to support herself, sank into the one she had left. "He told me all about you," he continued, "how you were to be married when he was pressed along with me and others, and so I came to know you: and, said I to myself, now that he's gone, poor fellow, and she's all forlorn-like, maybe, I'll try and comfort her a bit." Poor Jessie! This strange address from the rough sailor, though apparently kindly meant, had anything but the effect intended, for she burst into tears. "Now don't take on so," said the sailor, "I didn't think as how I'd have made you cry, or I wouldn't have talked about Ralph. Maybe he wasn't lost with the old _Falcon_. I've known men turn up after ever so many years, whom I thought fathoms deep below the waves long afore. Not but what he'd have been sure to come back to you if he could, that's certain." "You have not told me who you are. How did you escape from the shipwreck?" said Jessie, at length becoming calm enough to speak. "I've had a purser's name [see note 1] for some time past, but I don't mind telling you I'm Dick Bracewell, who sailed along with Captain Mudge in the _Amity_ once upon a time," answered her visitor. "And as to how I escaped, why I'd left the ship after we took the Frenchman and put into Rio, and I didn't know but what Ralph was still aboard her, and a lieutenant by that time, till I heard when I came ashore last that she was lost with all hands." Jessie did not quite like Dick's way of speaking, still it was a melancholy satisfaction to her to talk of Ralph; and as her visitor appeared to mean kindly, she did not express any wish that he would take his departure. He sat and sat on telling her many particulars about Ralph while on board the _Falcon_; how well he had behaved in the action, and how he had been made an officer, and been placed in command of the _Eagle_, Dick did not, however, tell her everything that had occurred regarding himself; but though he was not aware of it his tone betrayed the feeling of jealousy which he had entertained, and which her quick perception detecting, did not raise him in her estimation. At last she had to tell him that it was getting late, and to beg that he would go away. "Well, I hope that I may call again and spin another yarn about old times," he answered, as he took up his hat. She did not like to say no, and yet his conversation had not left a pleasant impression on her mind. When she had closed the door behind him, she sat down and cried bitterly. It seemed to her more certain than ever that Ralph was lost. Her evening reading of the Bible and her prayers, that solace of the afflicted, restored calmness to her mind. Day after day Dick Bracewell came to pay her a visit, and, believing him to have been Ralph's particular friend, she did not like to decline seeing him. He told her that after he had left the _Falcon_ he had joined a privateer, which had been wonderfully successful; that they had taken a rich Spanish galleon and many other valuable vessels, and that he, having become one of the mates of the ship, had had a large share of prize-money; enough, he declared, to set him up as an independent gentleman for life. To wind up his good luck he had come home in charge of the last prize they had made, which was fully as rich as any of the rest. "My old shipmate, he that's gone, told me that I should be ruined if I left the frigate, but he was wrong, you see," added Dick. "He thought, too, that I hadn't the sense to take care of my money, if I got any; but I had had a sharp lesson or two, and I made up my mind not to touch liquor, whether afloat or ashore, and I've kept to it for better than two years." Jessie had heard Ralph mention Dick Bracewell once or twice, but knowing nothing about his character, did not doubt the truth of his statements. Still Dick had not, as he supposed, gained her confidence. His frequent visits were, as might have been expected, noticed by Jessie's neighbours, and Dame Judson looked in one morning on purpose to tell her of the remarks she had heard, and to give her advice on the subject. She concluded by saying, "If you think that he is worthy of you, my dear, which I don't, why, there is nothing to say. You are your own mistress, and can marry him when--" "I marry him!" interrupted Jessie. "Oh, Mrs Judson, how can you think of such a thing? I did not suppose that he or any one else dreamed for a moment that I fancied he was making up to me, or I would not have received him after his first visit. Do, Mrs Judson, stay with me to-day, and if he comes tell him that I cannot see him, and beg that he will not come again." Mrs Judson very readily consented to do as Jessie wished. She had made inquiries about Dick Bracewell, and did not altogether believe in the capture of the Spanish galleon, though she heard that he had come ashore from a prize brought into Plymouth to be sold. The dame had brought her work, and took Jessie's usual place by the window to watch for Dick. She had not been there long before she saw a young sailor approach the house, and, without stopping, walk straight up to the door. "That isn't Dick Bracewell. I wonder who he can be," she exclaimed, as a knock was heard. "Can it be Ralph?" gasped out Jessie, rising from her seat. "Oh, no, my dear, he's much too young-looking. You mustn't have such a fancy. I'll see what he wants," said the dame, going to the door. "Please, ma'am, does Miss Flamank still live here?" asked the young sailor. "What do you want to say to her?" said the dame. "I've a great deal to say to her, and I think shell know me when I tell her who I am," replied the sailor. "Do let him come in, Mrs Judson," exclaimed Jessie, eagerly, her heart beating with the belief that she should hear news of Ralph. The stranger, doffing his hat, advanced into the room and stood before Jessie with a smile on his countenance as if expecting instantly to be recognised. "I thought, Miss Flamank, that you'd have known me," he said at length; "I've never forgotten you and your kindness to me. Don't you remember Peter Puddle?" "Oh! yes, yes; indeed I do," exclaimed Jessie, putting out her hand. "And is the _Amity_ not lost? Is Captain Mudge still alive?" Peter shook his head. "I wish I could say there was any chance of that," he answered. "When the old brig went down in the dead of night, I was left afloat on a hen-coop, which the old captain had just before cast loose and told me to cling to, for all our boats were stove in. And I never saw him, nor any one belonging to the _Amity_ alive again. Next morning I was picked up by a ship bound out to the West Indies, and I've been knocking about in those seas ever since. The captain had taught me navigation, and, what was better still, to read the Bible; and as I just did what that tells me to do, I got a good character aboard. I was made third mate, and the other two dying, I became first mate for want of a better man; though I was very young for such a charge. But I did my best, and the captain was satisfied, and says that, as he didn't want a better, I should sail with him again next voyage. We sailed for home at last, bound for London; but having sprung a leak, and carried away our fore-mast, we put into Plymouth for repairs--and that's how I've been able to come up to see you. But I've not yet spun all my yarn. Tell me, Miss, have you never got any letters from me?" "No," answered Jessie, "I have not received a single letter from abroad for three long years or more," and she sighed sadly. "I thought 'twas so when I got no answers to three I wrote," said Peter. "What I had to tell you was this,--that just before the brig went down the captain made fast to the hen-coop a bag with fifty golden guineas in it, and charged me, if I escaped, to take it to you. I unlashed it and managed to get it into my pocket just before I was hoisted on board. There would have been small chance of my keeping it, however, if I had not fallen among honest people; but when I came to know the captain, I was sure that it would be safe in his hands, so I gave it into his charge, and he stowed it away for me, and showed me where it was kept. If he hadn't done this I should have lost it, for a few months ago, when we were down in the Bay of Honduras, we were chased and overtaken by a schooner under Spanish colours. Her crew, a set of fellows of all nations, calling themselves privateer's-men, though they were more like pirates, robbed us of everything they could lay hands on, and all the specie they could find belonging to the captain and owners, and had begun to scuttle the ship, and would, no doubt, have set fire to her besides and carried off our boats, when an English man-of-war hove in sight, bringing up a strong breeze. The pirates, some of whom I was sure were Englishmen, in spite of their dress, for I heard them speaking, and should know two or three of them again, made off, and allowed us to stop the auger holes and pump out the water. Their schooner, being a fast craft, escaped; but the man-of-war, having seen us safe on our way to Barbadoes, went back to look for her. If she didn't find her, she would at all events have made those seas too hot for the pirate. I was better pleased than anything else that your money was saved, and here it is all right, just as the captain did it up for you." As Peter spoke he placed on the table before Jessie a small weather-stained canvas bag, and, undoing the string, counted out fifty guineas. "They are all right," he continued, "and my heart is lightened of the thought I've always had that I might lose them, though I would have made it up to you somehow or other--that I would." Tears choked Jessie's utterance as she thought of the kind captain who had remembered her in his last moments, and of the sturdy honesty and faithfulness of Peter. "I am, indeed, grateful to you as I am to Captain Mudge," she said at length; "but surely you are entitled to some of this." "Not a dollar would I touch, not if all the judges in the land were to order me to take it," answered Peter, replacing the money in the bag, which he tied up and pressed into her hands. "There, it's all for you, and I wish you knew how happy I am to give it to you safe at last." Before Jessie could reply there was a knock at the door. Mrs Judson went to open it. "Miss Flamank cannot see you," Jessie heard her say. "She never sent that message," exclaimed Dick Bracewell, brushing by her and entering the room. He cast an angry glance at Peter, as if he considered him an intruder, and advanced to shake hands with Jessie. She drew back, greatly annoyed at his conduct. "Mrs Judson told you I was engaged," she said. "She told me you couldn't see me; but when a man loves a girl, and knows pretty well that she likes him, he isn't to be stopped by trifles," he answered, throwing himself into a chair, as if he felt perfectly at home. A feeling of indignation prevented Jessie from saying anything. Meantime Peter had been narrowly eyeing her unwelcome visitor, and, stepping up to him, said-- "You've just come from the West Indies, mate, I've a notion?" "Yes, I've been in those seas," answered Dick, for, having told Jessie so, he could not deny the fact. "I thought as much; and we met there not long ago in a way I'm not likely to forget," said Peter, quietly. "Maybe you don't remember me, but I do you, I can tell you; and there are not a few of the crew of the _Kate_ who will remember you, too, if they set eyes on you." Dick; taken by surprise, turned pale, and declared he did not know what the young man meant; but Peter again minutely described how his ship had been boarded by pirates on the Spanish main, and positively asserting that Dick was one of them, advised him, if he valued his life and liberty, to clear out of Plymouth without delay. Dick, as might have been expected, swore that the young man, as he called Peter, was mistaken; but shortly after, observing that it was clear he was not wanted, took up his hat, and, without much leave-taking, hurried out of the house. Jessie, who feared that Peter was right in his suspicions, thanked him for giving Dick the warning. "He was once, at all events, Ralph Michelmore's friend, and I should have grieved if you had been the means of bringing him to punishment," she said. "I'd not hurt him, Miss Jessie, on any account," answered Peter; "but as I judged by the way you spoke to him that he was not welcome, I thought I would just say what would make him keep away for the future." Peter remained to dinner and amused Jessie and Mrs Judson with an account of his adventures, in all of which his honesty and courage were remarkable, though he was not aware that what he said exhibited it. "That's what the right training of good Captain Mudge has done for him," observed Mrs Judson, when he had gone. "I remember him a regular pickle; and, if he had been left to himself, he would have been a vagabond all his life, like many others who have had no kind friends to look after them." Peter's warning had not, it appeared, been lost upon Dick Bracewell; for from that day Jessie saw him no more. Peter came constantly, while he remained in Plymouth, to see her. At his last visit he put the sum of thirty pounds into her hands. "I want you to take this, Miss Flamank, and to spend any of it you like," he said, while a blush spread over his sunburnt countenance. "It's my savings since I was picked up by the _Kate_, and I always intended it for you.--Well, if you won't accept it as a gift, remember, if what happens to many a sailor happens to me, it will be yours. Now, don't say no, and you'll make me more happy than I can tell you." Peter would take no refusal, so at last Jessie consented to receive the money, though she resolved not to spend it on any account. After Peter had sailed, Jessie lived on much as before, except that with the money she had received she was able to obtain many of the necessaries she had before denied herself. Still her pale cheek told of a sad heart, and though more than one young man well to do in the world asked her to become his wife, she remained faithful to the memory of her lost Ralph. -------------- Note 1: A fictitious name sailors who have deserted generally assume to escape recognition. _ |
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