“It was I who took it out, Mrs Bately; the Dominie would have fainted with pain. It was very lucky that he has a housekeeper who is careful to have something of the kind in the house, or he might have been dead. You surely don’t begrudge a little of your medicine to recover Mr Dobbs?”
“Peace, woman, peace,” said the Dominie, who had gained courage by his potation. “Peace, I say; I knew not that thou hadst in thy cupboard either a gin for my hand, or gin for my mouth; since I have been taken in the one, it is but fair that I should take in the other. In future both thy gins will not be interfered with by me. Bring me the basin, that I may appease my angry wounds, and then hasten to procure some viands to appease the hunger of my son Jacob; lastly, appease thine own wrath. Pax. Peace, I say;” and the old woman, who perceived that the Dominie had asserted his right of dominion, went to obey his orders, grumbling till she was out of hearing. The application of the cold pump-water soon relieved the pain of the good old Dominie, and with his hand remaining in the basin, we commenced a long conversation.
At first I narrated to him the events which had occurred during my service on board of the frigate. When I told him of my parting with Tom, he observed, “Verily do I remember that young Tom, a jocund, pleasant, yet intrusive lad. Yet do I wish him well, and am grieved that he should be so taken by that maiden Mary. Well may we say of her, as Horace hath of Pyrrha—‘Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa, perfusis liquidis urgit odoribus, grate, Pyrrha, sub antro. Cui flavam religas comam, simplex munditiis.’ I grieve at it, yea, grieve much. Heu, quoties fidem mutatosque Deos flebit! Verily, Jacob, I do prophesy that she will lead him into error, yea, perhaps into perdition.”
“I trust not, sir,” replied I; but the Dominie made no answer. For half-an-hour he was in deep and serious thought, during which Mrs Bately entered, and spreading a cloth, brought in from the other room some rashers of bacon and eggs, upon which I made a hasty and hearty meal. The old matron’s temper was now smoothed, and she welcomed me kindly, and shortly after went out for a fresh basin of cold water for the Dominie to bathe his hand. This roused him, and he recommenced the conversation.
“Jacob, I have not yet congratulated thee upon thy accession to wealth; not that I do not sincerely rejoice in it, but because the pleasure of thy presence has made me unmindful of it. Still, was it fortunate for thee that thou hadst raised up such a friend as Mr Turnbull; otherwise what would have been the result of thy boasted independence? Thou wouldst probably have remained many years on board of a man-of-war, and have been killed, or have returned mutilated, to die unknown.”
“You were right, sir,” replied I; “my independence was nothing but pride; and I did bitterly repent, as you said I should do, even before I was pressed into the king’s service—but Mr Drummond never repeated his offers.”
“He never did, Jacob; but as I have since been informed by him, although he was taken by surprise at thy being forced away to serve thy country, still he was not sure that you would accept them; and he, moreover, wished you fully to feel thine own folly. Long before you had made friends with him, he had attested the will of Mr Turnbull, and was acquainted with the contents. Yet, did he watch over thee, and had he thought that thy way of life had led thee into that which was wrong, he would have interfered to save thee; but he considered with Shakespeare that ‘sweet were the uses of adversity,’ and that thou wouldst be more schooled by remaining some time under her unprepossessing frowns. He hath ever been thy friend.”
“I can believe it. I trust he is well, and his family.”
“They were well and prosperous, but a little while ago, Jacob; yet I have seen but little of them since the death of Mr Turnbull. It will pain thee to hear that affliction at thy absence hastened his dissolution. I was at his death-bed, Jacob; and I verily believe he was a good man, and will meet the reward of one; yet did he talk most strangely, and reminded me of that remnant of a man you call old Tom. ‘It’s no use, old gentleman,’ said he, as he lay in his bed supported by pillows, for he had wasted away till he was but a skeleton, having broken a blood-vessel with his violent coughing—‘It’s no use pouring that doctor’s stuff down my throat; my anchor’s short stay a-peak, and in a few minutes I shall trip it, I trust for heaven, where I hope there are moorings laid down for me.’ ‘I would fain comprehend thee,’ replied I, ‘but thou speakest in parables.’ ‘I mean to say that death has driven his harpoon in up to the shank, and that I struggle in vain. I have run out all my line. I shall turn up in a few minutes—so give my love and blessing to Jacob—he saved my life once—but now I’m gone.’ With these last words his spirit took its flight; and thus, Jacob, did your benefactor breathe his last, invoking a blessing on your head.”
I remained silent for a few minutes, for I was much affected by the Dominie’s description; he at length resumed the conversation.