“What, Nancy who was here just now?”
“Yes, that Nancy; and a sweet, modest young creature she was then, and had been well brought up too; she could read and write beautifully, and subscribed to a circulating library, they say. She was the daughter of a baker in this town. I recollect it well: such a fine day it was when they went to church, she looking so handsome in her new ribbons and smart dress, and he such a fine-looking young man. I never seed such a handsome young couple; but he was a bad one, and so it all ended in misery.”
“Tell me how,” said Joey.
“I’ll tell all you ought to know, boy; you are too young to be told all the wickedness of this world. Her husband treated her very ill; before he had been married a month he left her, and went about with other people, and was always drunk, and she became jealous and distracted, and he beat her cruelly, and deserted her; and then, to comfort her, people would persuade her to keep her spirits up, and gave her something to drink, and by degrees she became fond of it. Her husband was killed by a fall from the mast-head; and she loved him still and took more to liquor, and that was her ruin. She don’t drink now, because she don’t feel as she used to do; she cares about nothing; she is much to be pitied, poor thing, for she is still young, and very pretty. It’s only four years ago when I saw her come out of church, and thought what a happy couple they would be.”
“Where are her father and mother?”
“Both dead. Don’t let’s talk about it any more. It’s bad enough when a man drinks; but if a woman takes to it, it is all over with her; but some people’s feelings are so strong, that they fly to it directly to drown care and misery. Put up the book, Peter; I can’t look at it any more to-night; we’ll go to bed.”
Joey every day gave more satisfaction to his employer, and upon his own responsibility, allowed his friend the sailor lad to open an account as soon as his money was all gone. Finding that the vessel was going up the river to load, Joey determined to write a few lines to the McShanes, to allay the uneasiness which he knew his absence must have occasioned, Jim Paterson promising to put the letter in the post as soon as he arrived at London.
Our hero simply said, “My dear sir, I am quite well, and have found employment, so pray do not grieve about me, as I never shall forget your kindness.—Joey McShane.”
On the following Sunday Joey was dressed in his sailor’s suit, and looked very well in it. He was not only a very good-looking, but a gentlemanlike boy in his manners. He went to church, and after church he walked out to the abode of his little friend, Emma Phillips. She ran out to meet him, was delighted with his new clothes, and took him by the hand to present him to her mother. Mrs Phillips was a quiet-looking, pleasing woman, and the old lady was of a very venerable appearance. They made many inquiries about his friends, and Joey continued in the same story, that he and his father had been poachers, that he had been discovered and obliged to go away, and that he went with the consent of his parents. They were satisfied with his replies, and prepossessed in his favour; and as Joey was so patronised by her little daughter, he was desired to renew his visits, which he occasionally did on Sundays, but preferred meeting Emma on the road from school; and the two children (if Joey could be called a child) became very intimate, and felt annoyed if they did not every day exchange a few words. Thus passed the first six months of Joey’s new life. The winter was cold, and the water rough, and he blew his fingers, while Mrs Chopper folded her arms up in her apron; but he had always a good dinner and a warm bed after the day’s work was over. He became a great favourite with Mrs Chopper, who at last admitted that he was much more useful than even Peter; and William, the waterman, declared that such was really the case, and that he was, in his opinion, worth two of the former Peter, who had come to such an untimely end.