Chapter 3

For his mother he certainly had none: he was
indignant at her treatment of his father, and could find no redeeming
quality to make amends for her catalogue of imperfections. Still he had
a peculiar tact, by which he avoided any serious altercation. Never
losing his own temper, yet quietly and firmly resisting all control, he
assumed a dominion over her, from which her feelings towards him,
whatever they may have been in his early years, were now changed into
those of positive hatred. His absence this morning had been occasioned
by his assistance being required in the fitting of a new main-stay for
the sloop to which he belonged. "Please God, what, father?" said
Newton, as he came in, catching his father's last words.

"Why, your mother says that we must starve, or be dishonest."

"Then we'll starve, father, with a clear conscience; but I hope things
are not so had yet, for I am devilish hungry," continued Newton, looking
at the dinner-table, which offered to his view nothing but a
table-cloth, with the salt-cellar and the snuff-box. "Why, mother, is
it dead low water, or have you stowed all away in the locker?"--and
Newton repaired to the cupboard, which was locked.

Now Mrs Forster was violent with others, but with Newton she was always
sulky.

"There's nothing in the cupboard," growled the lady.

"Then why lock up nothing?" rejoined Newton, who was aware that veracity
was not among Mrs Forster's catalogue of virtues. "Come, mother, hand
me the key, and I'll ferret out something, I'll answer for it." Mrs
Forster replied, that the cupboard was her own, and she was mistress of
the house.

"Just as you please, mother. But, before I take the trouble, tell me,
father, is there any thing in the cupboard?"

"Why, yes, Newton, there's some mutton. At least, if I recollect right,
I did not eat it all--did I, my dear?"

Mrs Forster did not condescend an answer. Newton went into the shop,
and returned with a chisel and hammer. Taking a chair to stand upon, he
very coolly began to force the lock.

"I am very sorry, mother, but I must have something to eat; and since
you won't give me the key, why--" observed Newton, giving the handle of
the chisel a smart blow with the hammer--

"Here's the key, sir," cried Mrs Forster with indignation, throwing it
on the table, and bouncing out of the room.

A smile was exchanged between the father and son, as she went backwards,
screaming, "Betty--I say, Betty, you idle slut, where are you?" as if
determined to vent her spleen upon somebody.

"Have you dined, father?" inquired Newton, who had now placed the
contents of the cupboard upon the table.

"Why, I really don't quite recollect; but I feel very hungry," replied
the optician, putting in his plate to receive two large slices; and
father and son sat down to a hearty meal, proving the truth of the wise
man's observation, that, "Better is a dinner of herbs where love is,
than the stalled ox and hatred therewith."

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER FIVE.

Whate'er it be,
'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight.
If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold,
It is a good constraint of fortune, that
It belches on us.
SHAKESPEARE.

About three weeks after the events narrated in the preceding chapter,
Newton Forster sailed in his vessel with a cargo to be delivered at the
sea-port of Waterford. The master of her was immoderately addicted to
liquor; and, during the time that he remained in port, seldom was to be
found in a state of perfect sobriety, even on a Sunday. But, to do him
justice, when his vessel was declared ready for sea, he abstained from
his usual indulgence, that he might be enabled to take charge of the
property committed to his care, and find his way to his destined port.
It was a point on which his interest overcame, for a time, his darling
propensity: and his rigid adherence to sobriety, when afloat, was so
well ascertained, that his character as a trustworthy seaman was not
injured by his continual intemperance when in harbour. Latterly,
however, since Newton had sailed with him, he had not acted up to his
important resolution. He found that the vessel was as safe under the
charge of Forster as under his own; and having taken great pains to
instruct him in seamanship, and make him well acquainted with the
dangers of the coast, he thought that, as Newton was fully equal to the
charge of the vessel, he might as well indulge himself with an
occasional glass or two, to while away the tedium of embarkation. A
stone pitcher of liquor was now his constant attendant when he pulled on
board to weigh his anchor; which said pitcher, for fear of accidents, he
carried down into the cabin himself. As soon as sail was on the vessel,
and her course shaped, he followed his darling companion down into the
cabin, and until the contents were exhausted was never sufficiently
sober to make his appearance on deck; so that Newton Forster was, in
fact, the _responsible_ master of the vessel.

The wind, which had been favourable at the time of heaving up the
anchor, changed, and blew directly in their teeth, before they were well
out of sight of the port of Overton. On the third day they were
stretching off the land, to meet the first of the tide, under a light
breeze and smooth water, when Newton perceived various objects floating
in the offing. A small thing is a good prize to a coaster; even an
empty breaker is not to be despised; and Newton kept away a point or
two, that he might close and discover what the objects were. He soon
distinguished one or two casks, swimming deeply, broken spars, and a
variety of other articles. When the sloop was in the midst of them,
Newton hove to, tossed out the little skiff, and in the course of an
hour, unknown to his captain, who was in bed sleeping off the effect of
his last potations, brought alongside, and contrived to parbuckle in,
the casks, and as many others of the floating articles as he could
conveniently stow upon her decks. The boat was again hoisted in, by the
united exertions of himself and his crew, consisting of _one_ man and
_one_ boy; and the sloop, wearing round, reached in for the land.

It was evident to Newton that some large vessel had lately been wrecked,
for the spars were fresh in the fracture, and clean--not like those long
in the water, covered with sea-weed, and encircled by a shoal of fish,
who, finding sustenance from the animalculae collected, follow the
floating pieces of wood up and down, as their adopted parent, wherever
they may be swept by the inconstant winds and tides.

Newton examined the heels of the spars, but they were not marked with
the name of the vessel to which they had belonged. The two casks had
only initials branded upon the heads; but nothing could be found which
would designate the owners of the property. A large trunk riveted his
attention; but he would not open it until the master of the vessel came
upon deck. Having ascertained by spiling that the contents of the casks
were _real Jamaica_, he went down into the cabin to announce what he
knew would be most grateful intelligence.

It was some time before Newton could rouse his stupified senior.

"Spars--wrecked!"

"What spars? Damn the wreck!" growled old Thompson (for such was his
name), as he turned his back in no very ceremonious manner, and
recommenced his snore.

"There's a trunk besides, sir--a large trunk; but I did not open it, as
you were not on deck. A large trunk, and rather heavy."

"Trunk!--well, what then? Trunk!--oh, damn the trunk!--let me go to
sleep," muttered the master.

"There's two large casks, too, sir; I've spiled them, and they prove to
be puncheons of rum," bawled Newton, who pertinaciously continued.

"Eh; what?--casks! what casks?"

"Two puncheons of rum."

"Rum!--did you say rum?" cried old Thompson, lifting his head off the
pillow, and staring stupidly at Newton; "where?"

"On deck. Two casks: we picked them up as we were standing off the
land."

"Picked them up?--are they on board?" inquired the master, sitting
upright in his bed, and rubbing his eyes.

"Yes, they're safe on board. Won't you come on deck?"

"To be sure, I will. Two puncheons of rum, you said?"--and old Thompson
gained his feet, and reeled to the companion ladder, holding on by _all
fours_, as he climbed up without his shoes.

When the master of the sloop had satisfied himself as to the contents of
the casks, which he did by taking about half a tumbler of each, Newton
proposed that the trunk should be opened. "Yes," replied Thompson, who
had drawn off a mug of the spirits, with which he was about to descend
to the cabin, "open it, if you like, my boy. You have made a _bon
prize_ to-day, and your share shall be the trunk; so you may keep it,
and the things that are stowed away in it, for your trouble: but don't
forget to secure the casks till we can stow them away below. We can't
break bulk now; but the sooner they are down the better; or we shall
have some quill-driving rascal on board, with his _flotsam_ and
_jetsam_, for the _Lord knows who_;" and Thompson, to use his own
expression, went down again "to lay his soul in soak."

Reader, do you know the meaning of _flotsam_ and _jetsam_? None but a
lawyer can, for it is old law language. Now, there is a slight
difference between language in general and law language. The first was
invented to enable us to explain our own meaning, and comprehend the
ideas of others; whereas, the second was invented with the view that we
should not be able to understand a word about it. In former times, when
all law, except _club_ law, was in its infancy, and practitioners not so
erudite, or so thriving as at present, it was thought advisable to
render it unintelligible by inventing a sort of _lingo_, compounded of
bad French, grafted upon worse Latin, forming a mongrel and
incomprehensible race of words, with French heads and Latin tails, which
answered the purpose intended--that of mystification.--Flotsam and
jetsam are of this breed. Flot, derived from the French _flottant_,
floating; and jet, from the verb _jeter_, to _throw up_; both used in
seignoral rights, granted by kings to favourites, empowering them to
take possession of the property of any man who might happen to be
unfortunate, which was in those times tantamount to being guilty. I
dare say, if one could see the deed thus empowering them to confiscate
the goods and chattels of others for their own use, according to the
wording of the learned clerks in those days, it would run thus:--"Omnium
quod flotsam et jetsam, et every thing else-um, quod findetes;" in plain
English, "every thing floating or thrown up, and every thing else you
may pick up." Now the admiral of the coast had this piratical
privilege: and as, in former days, sextants and chronometers were
unknown, sea-faring men incurred more risk than they do at present, and
the wrecks which strewed the coast were of very great value. I had a
proof the other day that this right is still exacted; that is as far as
regards property _unclaimed_. I had arrived at Plymouth from the
Western Islands. When we hove up our anchor at St. Michael's, we found
another anchor and cable hooked most lovingly to our own, to the great
joy of the first-lieutenant who proposed buying silk handkerchiefs for
every man in the ship, and expending the residue in paint. But we had
not been at anchor in Plymouth Sound more than twenty four hours, and he
hardly had time to communicate with the gentlemen-dealers in marine
stores, when I received a notification from some lynx-eyed agent of the
present admiral of the coast (who is a lawyer, I believe), requesting
the immediate delivery of the anchor and cable,--upon the plea of his
seignoral rights of _flotsam_ and _jetsam_. Now the idea was as
preposterous as the demand was impudent. We had picked up the anchor in
the roadstead of a _foreign power_, about fifteen hundred miles distant
from the English coast.

We are all lawyers, _now_, on board ship; so I gave him one of my legal
answers, "that in the first place, _flotsam_ meant floating, and anchors
did not float; in the second place, that _jetsam_ meant thrown up, and
anchors never were thrown up; in the third and last place, _I'd see him
damned first_!"

My arguments were unanswerable. Counsel for the plaintiff (I presume)
threw up his brief, for we heard no more of "_Mr Flotsam and Jetsam_."

But to proceed:--The man and boy, who, with Newton, composed the whole
crew, seemed perfectly to acquiesce in the distribution made by the
master of the sloop; taking it for granted that their silence, as to the
liquor being on board, would be purchased by a share of it, as long as
it lasted.

They repaired forward with a panikin from the cask, with which they
regaled themselves, while Newton stood at the helm. In half an hour
Newton called the boy aft to steer the vessel, and lifted the trunk into
the cabin below, where he found that Thompson had finished the major
part of the contents of the mug, and was lying in a state of drunken
stupefaction.

The hasp of the lock was soon removed by a claw-hammer, and the contents
of the trunk exposed to Newton's view. They consisted chiefly of female
wearing apparel and child's linen; but, with these articles there was a
large packet of letters, addressed to Madame Louise de Montmorenci, the
contents of which were a mystery to Newton, who did not understand
French. There were also a red morocco case, containing a few diamond
ornaments, and three or four crosses of different orders of knighthood.
All the wearing apparel of the lady was marked with the initials LM,
while those appertaining to the infant were marked with the letters JF.

After a careful examination, Newton spread out the clothes to dry, over
the cabin lockers and table; and depositing the articles of value in a
safe place, he returned on deck. Although Thompson had presented him
with the trunk and its contents, he felt that they could not be
considered as his property, and he determined to replace every thing,
and, upon his return, consult his father as, to the proper measures
which should be taken to discover who were the lawful owners.

The sloop, under the direction of Newton, had continued her course for
two days against the adverse, yet light breeze, when the weather
changed. The wind still held to the same quarter: but the sky became
loaded with clouds, and the sun set with a dull red glare, which
prognosticated a gale from the North West; and before morning the vessel
was pitching through a short chopping sea. By noon the gale was at its
height; and Newton, perceiving that the sloop did not "hold her own,"
went down to rouse the master, to inquire what steps should be taken, as
he considered it advisable to bear up; and the only port under their lee
for many miles was one, with the navigation of which he was himself
unacquainted.

The vessel was under close-reefed mainsail and storm foresail, almost
buried in the heavy sea, which washed over the deck from forward to the
companion hatch, when Newton went down to rouse the besotted Thompson,
who, having slept through the night without having had recourse to
additional stimulus, was more easy to awaken than before.

"Eh! what?--blows hard--whew!--so it does. How's the wind?" said the
master, throwing his feet outside the standing bed-place, as he sat up.

"North West, veering to Nor'-Nor'-West in the squalls.--We have lost
good ten miles since yesterday evening, and are close to Dudden Sands,"
replied Newton. "I think we must bear up, for the gale shows no signs
of breaking."

"Well, I'll be on deck in a moment, my boy," rejoined Thompson, who was
now quite himself again, and was busy putting on his shoes, the only
articles which had been removed when he turned in. "Go you up, and see
that they keep her clean, full and bye--and those casks well secured.--
Dudden Sands--awkward place too--but I've not been forty years a-boxing
about this coast for nothing."

In a minute Thompson made his appearance on deck, and steadying himself
by the weather topmast backstay, fixed his leaden eyes upon the land on
the quarter.--"All right younker, that's the head, sure enough;" then
turning his face to the wind, which lifted up his grey curling locks,
and bore them out horizontally from his fur cap, "and it's a devil of a
gale, sure enough.--It may last a month of Sundays for all I know.--Up
with the helm, Tom.--Ease off the main sheet, handsomely, my lad--not
too much.--Now, take in the slack, afore she jibes;" and the master
ducked under the main boom and took his station on the other side of the
deck. "Steady as you go now.--Newton, take the helm.--D'ye see that
bluff? keep her right for it. Tom, you and the boy rouse the cable up--
get about ten fathoms on deck, and bend it.--You'll find a bit of
seizing and a marline-spike in the locker abaft."--The sloop scudded
before the gale, and in less than two hours was close to the headland
pointed out by the master. "Now, Newton, we must hug the point or we
shall not fetch--clap on the main sheet here, all of us.--Luff; you may
handsomely.--That's all right; we are past the Sand-head, and shall be
in smooth water in a jiffy. Steady, so-o.--Now for a drop of
_swizzle_," cried Thompson, who considered that he had kept sober quite
long enough, and proceeded to the cask of rum lashed to leeward. As he
knelt down to pull out the spile, the sloop, which had been brought to
the wind, was struck on her broadside by a heavy sea which careened her
to her gunnel; the lashings of the weather cask gave way, and it flew
across the deck, jamming the unfortunate Thompson, who knelt against the
one to leeward, and then bounding overboard. The old man gave a heavy
groan, and fell upon his back; the man and boy ran to his assistance,
and by the directions of Newton, who could not quit the helm, carried
him below, and placed him on his bed. In a few minutes the sloop was
safe at anchor, in smooth water, and Newton ran down into the cabin.
Thompson's head had been crushed against the chime of the cask; for an
hour or two he breathed heavily; and then--he was no more!

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER SIX.

The Indian weed, unknown to ancient times,
Nature's choice gift, whose acrimonious fume
Extracts superfluous juices, and refines
The blood distemper'd from its noxious salts;
Friend to the spirit, which with vapours bland
It gently mitigates--companion fit
Of a _good pot of porter_.
PHILLIPS.

There's a pot of good double beer, neighbour,
Drink--
SHAKESPEARE.

The next day the remains of old Thompson were carried on shore in the
long-boat, and buried in the churchyard of the small fishing town that
was within a mile of the port where the sloop had anchored. Newton
shipped another man, and when the gale was over, continued his voyage;
which was accomplished without further adventure.

Finding no cargo ready for him, and anxious to deliver up the vessel to
the owner, who resided at Overton, he returned in ballast, and
communicated the intelligence of Thompson's death; which in so small a
town was long the theme of conversation, and the food of gossips.

Newton consulted with his father relative to the disposal of the trunk;
but Nicholas could assist him but little with his advice. After many
_pros_ and _cons_, like all other difficult matters, it was
postponed.--"Really, Newton, I can't say. The property certainly is not
yours, but still we are not likely to find out the lawful owner. Bring
the trunk on shore, we'll nail it up, and perhaps we may hear something
about it by and bye. We'll make some inquiries--by and bye--when your
mother--"

"I think," interrupted Newton, "it would not be advisable to acquaint my
mother with the circumstance; but how to satisfy her curiosity on that
point, I must leave to you."

"To me, boy! no; I think that you had better manage that, for you know
you are only _occasionally_ at home."

"Well, father, be it so," replied Newton, laughing: "but here comes Mr
Dragwell and Mr Hilton, to consult with us what ought to be done
relative to the effects of poor old Thompson. He has neither kith nor
kin, to the ninety-ninth degree, that we can find out."

Mr Dragwell was the curate of the parish; a little fat man with
bow-legs, who always sat upon the edge of the chair, leaning against the
back, and twiddling his thumbs before him. He was facetious and
good-tempered, but was very dilatory in every thing. His greatest
peculiarity was, that although he had a hearty laugh for every joke, he
did not take the jokes of others at the time that they were made. His
ideas seemed to have the slow and silent flow ascribed to the stream of
lava (without its fire): and the consequence was, that although he
eventually laughed at a good thing, it was never at the same time with
other people; but in about a quarter or half a minute afterwards
(according to the difficulty of the analysis), when the cause had been
dismissed for other topics, he would burst out in a hearty Ha, ha, ha!

Mr Hilton was the owner of the sloop: he was a tall, corpulent man, who
for many years had charge of a similar vessel, until by "doing a little
contraband," he had pocketed a sufficient sum to enable him to purchase
one for himself. But the profits being more than sufficient for his
wants, he had for some time remained on shore, old Thompson having
charge of the vessel. He was a good-tempered, jolly fellow, very fond
of his pipe and his pot, and much more fond of his sloop, by the
employment of which he was supplied with all his comforts. He passed
most of the day sitting at the door of his house, which looked upon the
anchorage, exchanging a few words with every one that passed by, but
invariably upon one and the same topic--his sloop. If she was at
anchor--"There she is," he would say, pointing to her with the stem of
his pipe. If she was away, she had sailed on such a day;--he expected
her back at such a time. It was a fair wind--it was a foul wind for his
sloop. All his ideas were engrossed by this one darling object, and it
was no easy task to divert him from it.

I ought to have mentioned that Mr Dragwell, the curate, was invariably
accompanied by Mr Spinney, the clerk of the parish, a little spare man,
with a few white hairs straggling on each side of a bald pate. He
always took his tune whether in or out of church from his superior,
ejecting a small treble "He, he, he!" in response to the loud Ha, ha,
ha! of the curate.

"Peace be unto this house!" observed the curate as he crossed the
threshold, for Mrs Forster's character was notorious; then laughing at
his own wit with a Ha, ha, ha!

"He, he, he!"

"Good morning, Mr Forster, how is your good lady?"

"She's safe moored at last," interrupted Mr Hilton.

"Who?" demanded the curate, with surprise.

"Why, the sloop, to be sure."

"Oh! I thought you meant the lady--Ha, ha, ha!"

"He, he, he!"

"Won't you sit down, gentlemen?" said Nicholas, showing the way from the
shop into the parlour, where they found Mrs Forster, who had just come
in from the back premises.

"Hope you're well, Mr Curate," sharply observed the lady, who could not
be persuaded, even from respect for the cloth, to be commonly
civil--"take a chair; it's all covered with dust! but that Betsy is such
an idle slut!"

"Newton handles her, as well as any man going," observed Hilton.

"Newton!" screamed the lady, turning to her son, with an angry inquiring
look--"Newton handles Betsy!" continued she, turning round to Hilton.

"Betsy! no; the sloop I meant, ma'am."

Newton burst out into a laugh, in which he was joined by Hilton and his
father.

"Sad business--sad indeed!" said Hilton, after the merriment had
subsided, "such an awful death!"

"Ha, ha, ha!" roared the curate, who had but just then taken the joke
about Betsy.

"He, he, he!"

"Nothing to laugh at, that I can see," observed Mrs Forster,
snappishly.

"Capital joke, ma'am, I assure you!" rejoined the curate; "but, Mr
Forster, we had better proceed to business. Spinney, where are the
papers?" The clerk produced an inventory of the effects of the late Mr
Thompson, and laid them on the table.--"Melancholy thing, this, ma'am,"
continued the curate, "very melancholy indeed! But we must all die."

"Yes, thank Heaven!" muttered Nicholas, in an absent manner.

"Thank Heaven, Mr Forster!" cried the lady,--"why, do you wish to die?"

"I was not exactly thinking about myself, my dear," replied
Nicholas--"I--"

"Depend upon it she'll last a long while yet," interrupted Mr Hilton.

"Do you think so?" replied Nicholas, mournfully.

"Oh! sure of it; I stripped her the other day, and examined her all
over; she's as sound as ever."

Nicholas started, and stared Hilton in the face; while Newton, who
perceived their separate train of thought, tittered with delight.

"What are you talking of?" at last observed Nicholas.

"Of the sloop, to be sure," replied Hilton.

"I rather imagine you were come to consult about Mr Thompson's
effects," observed Mrs Forster, angrily--"rather a solemn subject,
instead of--"

"Ha, ha, ha!" ejaculated the curate, who had just _taken_ the equivoque
which had occasioned Newton's mirth.

"He, he, he!"

This last merriment of Mr Dragwell appeared to the lady to be such a
pointed insult to her, that she bounded out of the room, exclaiming,
"that an alehouse would have been a more suitable _rendezvous_."

The curate twiddled his thumbs, as the eyes of all the party followed
the exit of Mrs Forster; and there were a few moments of silence.

"Don't you find her a pleasant little craft, Forster?" said Hilton,
addressing Newton.

Nicholas Forster, who was in a brown study about his wife, shook his
head without lifting up his eyes, while Newton nodded assent.

"Plenty of accommodation in her," continued Hilton.--Another negative
shake from Nicholas, and assentent nod from Newton.

"If I thought you could manage her, Forster," continued Hilton,--"tell
me, what do you think yourself?"

"Oh, quite impossible!" replied Nicholas.

"Quite impossible, Mr Forster! well, now, I've a better opinion of
Newton--I think he _can_."

"Why, yes," replied Nicholas, "certainly better than I can; but still
she's--"

"She's a beauty, Mr Forster."

"Mrs Forster a beauty," cried Nicholas, looking at Hilton with
astonishment.

Newton and Hilton burst into a laugh. "No, no," said the latter, "I was
talking about the sloop; but we had better proceed to business. Suppose
we have pipes, Mr Forster. Mr Dragwell, what do you say?"

"Ha, ha, ha!" roared the curate, who had just taken the last joke.

"He, he, he!"

"Why, yes," continued the curate, "I think it is a most excellent
proposition; this melancholy affair requires a great deal of
consideration. I never compose so well as I do with a pipe in my mouth:
Mrs Dragwell says that she knows all my best sermons by the smell of
them; d'ye take--Ha, ha, ha!"

"He, he, he!"

The pipes, with the addition of a couple of pots of porter, were soon
procured from the neighbouring alehouse; and while the parties are
filling them, and pushing the paper of tobacco from one to the other, I
shall digress, notwithstanding the contrary opinion of the other sex, in
praise of this most potent and delightful weed.

I love thee, whether thou appearest in the shape of a cigar, or diest
away in sweet perfume enshrined in the Mereshaum bowl; I love thee with
more than woman's love! Thou art a companion to me in solitude. I can
talk and reason with thee, avoiding loud and obstreperous argument.
Thou art a friend to me when in trouble, for thou advisest in silence,
and consolest with thy calm influence over the perturbed spirit.

I know not how thy power has been bestowed upon thee; yet, if to
harmonise the feelings, to allow the thoughts to spring without control,
rising like the white vapour from the cottage hearth, on a morning that
is sunny and serene;--if to impart that sober sadness over the spirit,
which inclines us to forgive our enemy, that calm philosophy which
reconciles us to the ingratitude and knavery of the world, that heavenly
contemplation whispering to us, as we look around, that "All is good;"--
if these be merits, they are thine, most potent weed.

What a quiet world would this be if every one would smoke! I suspect
that the reason why the fairer sex decry thee is, that thou art the
cause of silence.