In England, to which he returned in 1839, the want of money soon came to be felt more seriously. His father's fortune had been invested in the West Indies, and began to show diminishing returns. For this and other reasons he led a very wandering existence, for another four or five years, until 1843. A year at 8 Duke Street, St James, was followed by a short stay with his mother at Wimbledon House, from which he took chambers at 120 Piccadilly, and then again moved to Spanish Place, Manchester Square. Apparently at this time he made an unsuccessful attempt to return to active service. He was meanwhile working hard at Poor Jack, Masterman Ready, The Poacher, Percival Keene, etc., and living hard in the merry circle of a literary Bohemia, with Clarkson Stanfield, Rogers, Dickens, and Forster; to whom were sometimes added Lady Blessington, Ainsworth, Cruickshank, and Lytton. The rival interests served to sour his spirits and weaken his constitution.

The publication of The Poacher in the Era newspaper involved its author in a very pretty controversy. A foolish contributor to Fraser's Magazine got into a rage with Harrison Ainsworth for condescending to write in the weekly papers, and expressed himself as follows:—

"If writing monthly fragments threatened to deteriorate Mr Ainsworth's productions, what must be the result of this hebdomadal habit? Captain Marryat, we are sorry to say, has taken to the same line. Both these popular authors may rely upon our warning, that they will live to see their laurels fade unless they more carefully cultivate a spirit of self-respect. That which was venial in a miserable starveling of Grub Street is perfectly disgusting in the extravagantly paid novelists of these days—the caressed, of generous booksellers. Mr Ainsworth and Captain Marryat ought to disdain such pitiful peddling. Let them eschew it without delay."

Marryat's reply was, spirited and manly. After ridiculing Fraser's attempt "to set up a standard of precedency and rank in literature," and humorously proving that an author's works were not to be esteemed in proportion to the length of time elapsing between their production, he turned to the more serious and entirely honest defence that, like Dickens, he was supplying the lower classes with wholesome recreation:—

"I would rather write for the instruction, or even the amusement of the poor than for the amusement of the rich; and I would sooner raise a smile or create an interest in the honest mechanic or agricultural labourer who requires relaxation, than I would contribute to dispel the ennui of those who loll on their couches and wonder in their idleness what they shall do next. Is the rich man only to be amused? are mirth and laughter to be made a luxury, confined to the upper classes, and denied to the honest and hard-working artisan?…

In a moral point of view, I hold that I am right. We are educating the lower classes; generations have sprung up who can read and write; and may I enquire what it is that they have to read, in the way of amusement?—for I speak not of the Bible, which is for private examination. They have scarcely anything but the weekly newspapers, and, as they cannot command amusement, they prefer those which create the most excitement; and this I believe to be the cause of the great circulation of the Weekly Dispatch, which has but too well succeeded in demoralising the public, in creating disaffection and ill-will towards the government, and assisting the nefarious views of demagogues and chartists. It is certain that men would rather laugh than cry—would rather be amused than rendered gloomy and discontented—would sooner dwell upon the joys or sorrows of others in a tale of fiction than brood over their own supposed wrongs. If I put good and wholesome food (and, as I trust, sound moral) before the lower classes, they will eventually eschew that which is coarse and disgusting, which is only resorted to because no better is supplied. Our weekly newspapers are at present little better than records of immorality and crime, and the effect which arises from having no other matter to read and comment upon, is of serious injury to the morality of the country … I consider, therefore, that in writing for the amusement and instruction of the poor man, I am doing that which has but been too much neglected—that I am serving my country, and you surely will agree with me that to do so in not infra. dig. in the proudest Englishman; and, as a Conservative, you should commend rather than stigmatise my endeavours in the manner which you have so hastily done."

It has been said that Marryat's wandering ceased in 1843, and it was in that year that he settled down at Langham to look after his own estate. Langham is in the northern division of Norfolk, half way between Wells-next-the-Sea and Holt. The Manor House, says Mrs Lean, "without having any great architectural pretensions, had a certain unconventional prettiness of its own. It was a cottage in the Elizabethan style, built after the model of one at Virginia Water belonging to his late majesty, George IV., with latticed windows opening on to flights of stone steps ornamented with vases of flowers, and leading down from the long narrow dining-room, where (surrounded by Clarkson Stanfield's illustrations of Poor Jack, with which the walls were clothed) Marryat composed his later works, to the lawn behind. The house was thatched and gabled, and its pinkish white walls and round porch were covered with roses and ivy, which in some parts climbed as high as the roof itself."

In the unpublished fragment of his Life of Lord Napier Marryat had declared that retired sailors naturally turned to agriculture, and frequently made good farmers. A sailor on land, he rather quaintly remarks, is "but a sort of Adam—a new creature, starting into existence as it were in his prime;" and "the greatest pleasures of man consist in imitating the Deity in his creative power." The anticipated pleasure in farming he did to a great extent realise, but the profits were still to seek. It can only be said that his losses were rather smaller that they had been in his absence.

Thus:—

1842. Total receipts, £154 2 9
" Expenditure, 1637 0 6
1846. Total receipts, 898 12 6
" Expenditure, 2023 10 8