The lout disappeared, and I continued to pace up and down.
As I afterwards discovered, the message was from Mrs Drummond, who requested to speak to me. Sarah had communicated the real facts of my case, and Mrs Drummond had been convinced that what I had said was correct. She had talked with her husband; she pointed out to him that my conduct under Mr Tomkins had been so exemplary that there must have been some reason for so sudden a change. Sarah had gone down into the counting-house, and obtained the invoice which the senior clerk had torn up. The correctness of it established the fact of one part of my assertions, and that nothing but malice could have warranted its having been destroyed. Mr Drummond felt more than he chose to acknowledge; he was now aware that he had been too precipitate; even my having refused the money assumed a different appearance; he was puzzled and mortified. Few people like to acknowledge that they have been in error. Mr Drummond, therefore, left his wife to examine further into the matter, and gave her permission to send for me. The message given, and the results of it have been stated. The answer returned was that I would not come, and that I had threatened to break the clerk’s head as well as that of Mr Drummond; for although the scoundrel knew very well that in making use of the word “master,” I referred to the senior clerk, he thought it proper to substitute that of Mr Drummond. The effect of this reply may easily be imagined. Sarah was astonished, Mrs Drummond shocked, and Mr Drummond was almost pleased to find that he could not have been in the wrong. Thus was the breach made even wider than before, and all communication broken off. Much depends in this world upon messages being correctly given.
In half-an-hour we had hauled out of the tier and dropped down to the American schooner, to take out a cargo of flour, which old Tom had directions to land at the Battersea wharf; so that I was, for the time, removed from the site of my misfortune. I cannot say that I felt happy, but I certainly felt glad that I was away. I was reckless to a degree that was insupportable. I had a heavy load on my mind which I could not shake off—a prey upon my spirits—a disgust at almost everything. How well do I recollect with what different feelings I looked upon the few books which Mr Drummond and the Dominie had given me to amuse my leisure hours. I turned from them with contempt, and thought I would never open them again. I felt as if all ties were now cut off, and that I was again wedded to the Thames; my ideas, my wishes, extended no farther, and I surveyed the river and its busy scene as I did before I had been taken away from it, as if all my energies, all my prospects were in future to be bounded by its shores. In the course of four-and-twenty hours a revulsion had taken place, which again put me on the confines of barbarism.
My bargemates were equally dull as I was; they were too partial to me, and had too much kindness of heart, not to feel my situation, and anger at the injustice with which I had been treated. Employment, however, for a time relieved our melancholy thoughts. Our cargo was on board of the lighter, and we were again tiding it through the bridges.
We dropped our anchor above Putney Bridge a little after twelve o’clock, and young Tom, with the wish of amusing me, proposed that we should go on shore and walk. “Ah! do my lads, do—it will do you good, Jacob; no use moping here a whole tide. I’ll take care of the ’barkey. Mind you make the boat well fast, and take the sculls into the public-house there. I’ll have the supper under weigh when you come back, and then we’ll have a night on’t. It’s a poor heart that never rejoices; and, Tom, take a bottle on shore, get it filled, and bring it off with you. Here’s the money. But I say, Tom, honour bright.”
“Honour bright, father;” and to do Tom justice, he always kept his promise, especially after the word had passed of “honour bright.” Had there been gallons of spirits under his charge he would not have tasted a drop after that pledge.
“Haul up the boat, Jacob, quick,” said Tom, as his father went into the cabin to fetch an empty bottle. Tom hastened down below forward and brought up an old gun, which he put under the stern sheets before his father came out on the deck. We then received the bottle from him, and Tom called out for the dog Tommy.
“Why, you’re not going to take the dog. What’s the use of that? I want him here to keep watch with me,” said old Tom.
“Pooh! father; why can’t you let the poor devil have a run on shore? He wants to eat grass, I am sure, for I watched him this day or two. We shall be back before dark.”
“Well, well, just as you please, Tom.” Tommy jumped into the boat, and away we went.