Chapter Sixty Four.
Ralph appears before a magistrate, and proves to be more frightened than hurt, though frightened as little as a veritable hero should be—A great deal of fuss about a little dust, not kicked up, but finally laid down.
We got on, nevertheless, Pigtop shaking his head very dolefully, whenever I paused to recover breath.
We entered the first house that we came to; that of an agricultural labourer. We told our adventure, and the good man immediately proceeded to acquaint the patrol and the constable. I was anxious to examine the nature of my wound, to which my old messmate would not listen for a moment. He was particularly sorry that he saw no blood, from which symptom he argued the worst-looking upon me as a dead man, being certain that I was bleeding inwardly.
I decided for a post-chaise, that I might hasten to town and make my depositions; for I was determined to let loose the hounds of the law after my dastardly enemies, without the loss of a moment. The chaise was soon procured; and, much to the satisfaction of Pigtop, we drove directly to Bow Street—the good fellow having a firm persuasion that the moment his make-shift tourniquet was withdrawn, I should breathe my last. I had no such direful apprehensions.
When we arrived at the office, the worthy magistrate was on the point of retiring. The clatter of the chaise driving rapidly up to the door, and the exaggerated report of the post-boy, heralded us in with some éclat. The magistrate, when he had heard it was a case of murder, very well disguised his regret at the postponement of his dinner.
Mr Pigtop insisted upon supporting me, although I could walk very well—quite as well as himself, considering his potations: and insisted also upon speaking. He was one of the old school of seamen, and could not speak out of his profession. Accordingly he was first sworn. We will give the commencement of his deposition verbatim, as he is one of a class that is fast disappearing from the face of the waters.
“If you please, your worship, I and my two concerts that are lying-to in my wake, after having taken in our wood and water at Woolwich, we braced up sharp, bound for London.”
“What do you mean by your wood and water?” said the magistrate.
“Our bub and grub—Here’s a magistrate for you! (aside to me)—your worship, down to our bearings. So, as Bill here said, as how we were working Tom Cox’s traverse—your worship knows what that means, well enough.”
“Indeed, sir, I don’t.”
“It’s the course the lawyers will take when they make sail for heaven. I can see, in the twinkling of a purser’s dip, that your worship is no lawyer.”
“This, sir, is the first time anyone has had the impertinence to tell me so.”
“Well, well, no offence, I hope, your worship?—there is no accounting for taste, as the monkey said when he saw the cat pitch into the tar barrel;” and then the worthy witness embarked into a very irrelevant digression about land-sharks. The magistrate, however, was patient and sensible, and at length overcame the great difficulty arising from his never having been to sea, and Pigtop never having been to law.
His deposition having been translated into the vulgar tongue, out of nautical mysticisms, was duly sworn to; yet not without an interruption when the magistrate heard that it was supposed that I had the pistol-ball still somewhere in my body—he wishing me to be examined by a surgeon immediately. Mr Pigtop was opposed to this, lest I should die upon the spot; but I gave the magistrate more satisfaction by telling him I had good reason to suppose that the ball had not penetrated deeply.
I was the last examined; and I almost electrified Pigtop when I deposed that I knew well the person of my murderous assaulter, and that it was Joshua Daunton.
At this announcement, my quondam messmate slapped his hand upon his knee with a violence that echoed through the court, grinned, then looked profoundly serious; but made me very thankful by holding his peace, and shaking his head most awfully. When I proceeded to give a very accurate description of this wretch’s person, looks of understanding passed between three or four of the principal runners, who were attentively listening to the proceedings. When this business was concluded, the magistrate said to me, “The young man who has committed this outrage upon your person, we have strong reason to believe, is amenable to the laws for other crimes. He has eluded our most active officers; and it was supposed that he had left the kingdom. It appears now that he has returned. You have had a most providential escape. The pistol will give us a good clue. There is no doubt but that shortly we shall be able to give a good account of him. Let me now advise you, Mr Rattlin, to have your hurt examined. Come into my private room; a surgeon will be here in an instant.”
Pigtop and I were then ushered into a room on one side of the office. I looked extremely foolish—almost, in fact, as confused as if I had been charged with an offence. The surgeon soon made his appearance; but, in the short interval, the magistrate had begun to thrust home with his questions as to who I was, what were my intentions, and the probable motives of Daunton’s attempt on my life. All these I parried as well as I could, without letting him know anything of the supposed consanguinity between myself and the culprit: his motive I accounted for as revenge for some real or imaginary insult inflicted by me when we were on board the Eos.
Upon my persisting to refuse, for some time, to strip, that the wound might be examined, the magistrate began to look grave, and the surgeon hinted that it was, perhaps, as well not to seek for what was not to be found. The dread of being looked upon as an impostor overcame my shame at the exposé of my romantic weakness. Poor Pigtop had alarms upon totally other grounds. He watched with painful anxiety the unwinding of his tourniquet, ready to receive me dying into his arms. His surprise was greater, I fear me, than his joy, when he discovered no signs of bleeding when his handkerchief was removed.
“What, in the name of pharmacy, is this?” said the surgeon, detaching my belt of earth; “but here is the ball, however,—it has more than broken the skin; and there has been a good deal of blood extravasated, but it has been absorbed by the mould in this handkerchief. By whatever means this singular bandage was placed where I found it, you may depend upon it, young gentleman, that it has saved your life.”
“I presume, Mr Rattlin, that you are a Catholic?” said the magistrate, “and that you have been a very naughty boy: if so, the penance that your confessor has enjoined you has been miraculously providential, and I shall think better of penances for the rest of my life.”
The lie so temptingly offered for my adoption, I was about to make use of. But when I reflected from whence I had collected that sacred earth, I dared not profane it by falsehood. So, with a faltering voice, and my eyes filling with tears, I told the magistrate the truth.
“My young friend,” said he, “these superstitious fancies and acts are best omitted. I am sure that you do not need this earth to remember your mother. Besides, it must be prejudicial to your health to carry it about your person, to say nothing of the singularity of the deed. Take my advice, and convey it carefully to the nearest consecrated ground, and there reverently deposit it. We will preserve this ball, with the pistol; and now let Mr Ankins dress your slight wound. We must see you well through this affair, and the Admiralty must prolong your leave of absence, if it be necessary. I should wish to know more of you as a private individual—there is my card. You are a very good lad for honouring your mother. Fare ye well.”
With many compliments from the surgeon also, and a roller or two of cotton round my chest, we mutually took leave of each other; the gentleman very considerately refusing the guinea that I tendered him.
Having discharged the post-chaise, Mr Pigtop, his two companions, and myself, left the office,—I bearing in my hand the handkerchief nearly filled with mould. What did I do with it—saturated as it was with my blood, and owing as I did my life to it? Perhaps, sweet and gentle lady, you think that I preserved it in a costly vase, over which I might weep, or had it made up by some fair hands systematically into a silken belt, and still wore it next my heart, or, at least, that I placed it in a china flower-vase, and planted a rose-tree therein, which I watered daily by my tears. Alas! for the lovers of the romantic, I did none of these. I told you before all my incidents turn out to be mere matter-of-fact affairs. Like a good boy, I did as the magistrate bade me. As I passed by Saint Paul’s, Covent Garden, I turned into the churchyard; and with a silent prayer for the departed, and asking pardon of God for the profanation of which I had been guilty, I poured out the whole of the dust, with reverence, on a secluded spot, and then returned and joined my companions.
Taking leave of them shortly after, I repaired to the White Horse, in Fetter Lane, and, eating a light supper, retired to bed early, and thus finished this very memorable day.
On the day succeeding, I found my arm so much swollen, and myself altogether so ill, that I kept my bed. I need not mention that the same surgeon attended me. I took this opportunity of furnishing myself with a few necessaries and a carpet-bag; so I was no longer the gentleman without any luggage.
On the third day of my confinement to the house, sitting alone in the deserted coffee-room, chewing the cud of my bitter fancies, Mr Pigtop made his appearance. Though I knew the man to be thoroughly selfish, I believed him to have that dogged sort of honesty not uncommon to very vulgar minds. As, just then, any society was welcome, I received his condolements very graciously, and requested his company to dinner. My invitation was gladly accepted; and he occupied the time previous to that repast in giving me a history of his life. It was a very common one. He was the son of a warrant-officer. He was all but born on board a man-of-war. At the age of fifteen he got his rating as a midshipman, and then rose to be a master’s mate. There his promotion ceased, and, to all appearances, for ever. He had been already twenty-five years in the service, and was turned forty.
Never having had anything beyond his pay, his life had been one of ceaseless privation and discontent. He had now nearly spent all his money, and had omitted to make those reparations to his wardrobe, rendered so necessary by the malignity of Joshua Daunton. He wished to leave the service, and be anything rather than what he had been. He had no relations living, and positively no friends. His prospects were most disconsolate, and his wretchedness seemed very great. However, he found considerable relief in unburthening himself to me.
After our frugal dinner of rump steaks, and our one bottle of port, he returned to the subject of the morning by asking my advice as to his future conduct.
“Nay, Pigtop,” I replied, “you should not ask me. You are much more capable of judging for yourself—you, who have been so much longer in the world than I.”
“There you are out of your reckoning. I have lived more than twice your years, and have never been in the world at all. On shore, I’m like a pig afloat in a washing-tub. What would you advise me to do?”
“You have no relations or friends to assist you?”
The mournful shake of the head was eloquently negative.
“And yet you will not resume that life for which alone you were educated?”
“I will not, and I cannot.”
“Well, you must either go on the highway or marry a fortune.”
“Look at this figure-head—look at this scar. No—no one will ever splice with such an old ravelled-out rope-yarn as Andrew Pigtop. The road is no longer a gentlemanly profession. I intend to be a servant.”
“You, Pigtop!—begging your pardon, who the devil would be encumbered with you?”
“You, I hope—no, don’t laugh; I know you to be a gentleman born, and that you have a hundred a year. By hints that I have picked up, I believe when you come of age, and all is done right by you, that you’ll have thousands. We have one view in common—to hang that rogue, Daunton. I certainly do not wish to put on your livery, without you insist upon it. Call me your secretary, or anything you like—only let me be near you—your servant and your friend.”
I saw the poor fellow’s eye glisten, and his weather-worn features quiver. I looked upon his worn and shabby uniform, and reflected upon his long and unrequited services. Venerate him I knew that I never could; but I already pitied him exceedingly. I resolved, at least, to assist him and to keep him near me for a time.
“Well, Pigtop,” I at length said, “if you would be faithful—”
“To the backbone—to the shedding of my blood. Stand by me now in my distress: and while I have either soul or body, I will peril them for your safety.”
“Pigtop, I believe you. Say no more about it. I engage you as my travelling tutor; and I will pay you your salary when I come of age—that is, if I am able. Now, what money have you?”
“Three pounds, fifteen shillings, and sevenpence-halfpenny. Not enough to take me down to the guard-ship, when I have paid my bill at the tavern.”
“Then, my good fellow, go and pay it immediately, and come back with all possible speed.” The prompt obedience that he gave to my first order augured well for his attention.
On his return, I addressed him seriously to this effect: “My friend, you shall share with me to the last shilling; but, believe me, my position is as dangerous as it is unnatural. It is full of difficulty, and requires not only conduct, but courage. I have a parent that either dares not, or from some sinister motive will not, own me; and I fear me much that I have a half-brother that I know is pursuing me with the assassin’s knife, whilst I am pursuing him with the vengeance of the law. It is either the death of the hunted dog for me, or of the felon’s scaffold for him. The event is in the hand of God. We must be vigilant, for my peril is great. My implacable enemy is leagued with some of the worst miscreants of this vast resort of villainy; he knows all the labyrinths of this Babel of iniquity; and the fraternal steel may be in my bosom even amidst the hum of multitudes. That man has a strong motive for my death, and to personify me afterwards. Already has he stolen my vouchers and my certificates. The mystery to me appears almost inscrutable; but his inducements to destroy me are obvious enough. I think that I am tolerably safe here, though I am equally sure that I am watched. Here is money. Go now, and purchase two brace of serviceable pistols and a couple of stout sword-canes. We will be prepared for the worst. Of course you will sleep here, and hereafter always take up your abode in whatever place I may be. As you return, you must find, in some quiet street, an unobtrusive tailor—he must not have a shop—bring him with you. I must put you in livery, after all.”
“Why, if so be you must, I suppose you must—I’m off.”
Pigtop did his commissions well. He returned with the arms and the tailor. “I hope,” said he, “you won’t want me to wear this livery long?”
“Not long, I hope. My friend,” said I, addressing the man of measures, “this gentleman, lately in the navy, has had recently a very serious turn. He is profoundly repentant of the wickedness of his past life—he has had a call—he has listened to it. It is not unlikely that he may shortly take out a licence to preach. Make him a suit of sad-coloured clothes, not cut out after the vanities of the world. Your own would not serve for a bad model. You go to meeting, I presume?”
“I have received grace—I eschew the steeple-house—I receive the blessed crumbs of the Word that fall from the lips of that light of salvation, the Reverend Mr Obadiah Longspinner.”
“A holy and a good man, doubtless; would that we were all like him! But our time will come—yes, our time will come. As is the outward man of the Reverend Mr Obadiah Longspinner, so would my friend have his outward man—verily, and his inward also—improved unto sanctity.”
The devout tailor snuffled out “Amen,” and did his office. Whilst Pigtop’s clothes were preparing, he was not idle. He procured all the requisites for travelling, and I sent him on a fruitless mission to discover the residence of the Brandons. He was told by the neighbours that, a year back, they had all emigrated to Canada. Everything seemed to favour the machinations of my enemy, and to prevent my gaining any clue by which to trace him out, or the object of my search. However, I had one chance left—an interview with the superb Mrs Causand, that lady that Joshua had so kindly bestowed upon me for a mother.
In three days behold us in private lodgings, the Reverend Mr Pigtop looking as sour as any canting Methodist in Barebones’ parliament, and quite reconciled to the singularly starch figure that he presented. There was certainly a sad discrepancy between his dress and his discourse. However, it was a good travelling disguise, and very serviceable to a petty officer breaking his leave of absence.
With my health perfectly recovered, dressed with the greatest precision, and with a beating heart, I went to call upon Mrs Causand. On her all my hopes rested. I knew that, as a schoolboy, she was extremely fond of me, and I really loved her as much as I admired her.
I had never before visited her, and was consequently totally ignorant of the style in which she lived. I found the house which she inhabited, for I always carefully preserved her address, to be one of those which faced Hyde Park. I was rather chilled as I observed its quiet, aristocratic appearance. The porter told me that if I would walk into the adjoining parlour, and favour him with my name, he would go up immediately she was alone and announce me.