CHAPTER VI.
The agitation and distress of Mrs. Heartwell at finding that Frank did not return on the day of the ship-launch may readily be conceived—he was the only stay and hope of her heart. Suspecting the cause of his absence, she set out for the tender at the Tower; but as it was dark night, the sentries would neither allow her to come on board nor render any information, so that she was forced to return unsatisfied. But on the following morning she was again alongside, and learned the fate of her son and the negro, who were then at some distance down the river. This, though it removed her fears for his safety, did not diminish her anxiety for his welfare, nor was it till she received the letter announcing his being placed on the quarter-deck of the Thunderbolt, seventy-four, that she felt relieved from the sickening apprehensions that had almost overwhelmed her.
It was about this time that Richard Brothers, the supposed prophet, became extremely popular; and as he had declared that he was commanded by divine authority to proclaim the destruction of the city of London by earthquake and fire, many of his believers who resided within the doomed precincts quitted their habitations, and found temporary abodes outside the proscribed districts: amongst these was a Mr. Baurie, a tradesman of the Strand, who, terrified at the denunciation, at a very considerable sacrifice of business and property, left his house and occupied Mrs. Heartwell's apartments. Brothers resided in Paddington-street, where he was almost worshipped as the Prince of the Hebrews, and the Deliverer and King of the Jews, who was to restore them to New Jerusalem, and become their ruler; and as there had been some remarkable coincidences connected with his prophecies, thousands of all ranks—even bishops and clergy—visited him, and not a few gave full credence to his absurdities. He frequently called upon Baurie, and, being a lieutenant in the navy, Mrs. Heartwell had more than once or twice conversed with him about her husband. His answers were invariably the same—"Though he be dead, yet shall he live again—though he is lost, yet shall he be found." Ambiguous as this reply may be considered, it encouraged the cherished hope that her husband would be restored to her. Strong as her mind usually was, the mild and gentlemanly manners of the prophet, combined with his upright conduct and undeviating integrity, won upon her feelings; and though she pitied the weakness of his believers, there were times when his observations made a deeper impression upon herself than she liked to acknowledge.
Meetings were held in Baurie's apartment, which were attended by numbers of the select—the principal of whom were Brassey Allhead, an intelligent oriental scholar, who had resided many years in India, and now sat as member of Parliament for ——, William Bryan, George Turner, and others, who pretended to see visions, claimed the gift of prophecy, and bore testimony to the authenticity of Brothers's mission—that he was the descendant of King David—the rod that was to come out of the stem of Jesse, &c., &c.: in fact, there only wanted the "unknown tongues," which has since been discovered by the disciples of fanaticism, to render the whole farce perfect in all its parts.
The twilight of a summer evening was gradually deepening its shade, when a hackney-coach stopped at Mrs. Heartwell's door, and the servant announced that a strange-looking woman who came in it had endeavoured to force her way into the house, and still remained clamorous to be admitted. Without a moment's hesitation, Mrs. Heartwell went to the hall—the door was re-opened, but the lady could not help retiring back with amazement, when she beheld a stout female, in short Dutch petticoats, wooden shoes, and a peaked-crown hat, who, in spite of the resistance of the servant, immediately and hurriedly advanced towards her.
"Who, and what are you?" demanded Mrs. Heartwell. "Keep the woman back, Mary!"
The girl caught hold of the intruder's petticoats, but, observing a thick club queue hanging down the female's back, she shouted, "Oh, my! ma'am, she's got a pig-tail!" and let them go again.
"What is all this?—who do you want?" demanded the lady, retreating. "Why don't you stop her, Mary?"
"Lor', ma'am, I carnt," replied the girl, again catching hold of the petticoats, whilst a well-remembered voice laughingly exclaimed,—
"Bless you, my lady—why, dont you know me? Howsomever I hope I arnt frightened you; but what's the odds so as you're happy?"