“If it please God,” replied the honest Nicholas.
But this matrimonial duet was interrupted by the appearance of their son, whom we must introduce to the reader, as he will play a conspicuous part in our narrative.
Newton Forster, for thus had he been christened by his father, out of respect for the great Sir Isaac, who was now about seventeen years’ old—athletic and well proportioned in person, handsome in features, and equally gifted in mind. There was a frankness and sincerity in his open brow, an honesty in his smile, which immediately won upon the beholder; and his countenance was but an index to his mind. His father had bestowed all his own leisure, and some expense, which he could ill afford, upon his education, trusting one day that he would rival the genius after whom he had been christened; but Newton was not of a disposition to sit down either at a desk or a work-bench. Whenever he could escape from home or from school, he was to be found either on the beach or at the pier, under the shelter of which the coasting vessels discharged or received their cargoes; and he had for some years declared his intention to follow the profession of a sailor. To this his father had reluctantly consented, with the proviso that he would first finish his education; and the mutual compact had been strictly adhered to by each party.
At the age of fifteen Newton had acquired all that could be imparted to him by the pedagogue of the vicinity, and had then, until something better should turn up, shipped himself on board of a coasting vessel, in which, during the last two years he had made several trips, being usually absent about six weeks, and remaining in port about the same time, until another cargo could be procured.
Young as he was, the superiority of his education had obtained him the situation of mate of the vessel; and his pay enabled him to assist his father, whose business, as Mrs Forster declared, was not sufficient to “make both ends meet.” Upon his return, his love of knowledge and active habits induced him to glean as much as he could of his father’s profession, and he could repair most articles that were sent in. Although Newton amused himself with the peculiarities and eccentricity of his father, he still had high respect for him, as he knew him to be a worthy, honest man. 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.