The “something in hand” in this letter was “Mansfield Park.” The mentions of ships occur in one of the scenes at Portsmouth, when the whole of the Price family are full of the Thrush going out of harbour, and have no eyes or ears for Fanny, who has just come home after an absence of seven or eight years. The scene is worth quoting almost in extenso:
“Fanny was all agitation and flutter—all hope and apprehension. The moment they stopped, a trollopy-looking maid-servant, seemingly in waiting for them at the door, stepped forward, and, more intent on telling the news than giving them any help, immediately began with—‘The Thrush is gone out of harbour, please, sir, and one of the officers has been to——’ She was interrupted by a fine tall boy of eleven years old, who, rushing out of the house, pushed the maid aside, and while William was opening the chaise-door himself, called out, ‘You are just in time. We have been looking for you this half-hour. The Thrush went out of harbour this morning. I saw her. It was a beautiful sight. And they think she will have her orders in a day or two. And Mr. Campbell was here at four o’clock to ask for you; he has got one of the Thrush’s boats, and is going off to her at six, and hoped you would be here in time to go with him.’
“A stare or two at Fanny, as William helped her out of the carriage, was all the voluntary notice which this brother bestowed; but he made no objection to her kissing him, though still engaged in detailing farther particulars of the Thrush’s going out of harbour, in which he had a strong right of interest, being to commence his career of seamanship in her at this very time.
“Another moment, and Fanny was in the passage and in her mother’s arms. She was then taken into a small parlour. Her mother was gone again to the street-door to welcome William. ‘Oh, my dear William, how glad I am to see you! But have you heard about the Thrush? She is gone out of harbour already, three days before we had any thought of it; and I do not know what I am to do about Sam’s things; they will never be ready in time; for she may have her orders to-morrow perhaps. It takes me quite unawares. And now you must be off to Spithead, too. Campbell has been here quite in a worry about you; and now what shall we do? I thought to have had such a comfortable evening with you, and now everything comes upon me at once.’
“Her son answered cheerfully, telling her that everything was always for the best, and making light of his own inconvenience in being obliged to hurry away so soon.
“‘To be sure, I had much rather she had stayed in harbour, that I might have sat a few hours with you in comfort, but as there is a boat ashore I had better go off at once, and there is no help for it. Whereabouts does the Thrush lie at Spithead? Near the Canopus? But, no matter—here is Fanny in the parlour, and why should we stay in the passage? Come, mother, you have hardly looked at your own dear Fanny yet.’
“Lastly, in walked Mr. Price himself, his own loud voice preceding him, as, with something of an oath kind, he kicked away his son’s portmanteau and his daughter’s bandbox in the passage and called out for a candle; no candle was brought, however, and he walked into the room.
“Fanny, with doubting feelings, had risen to meet him, but sank down on finding herself undistinguished in the dusk, and unthought of. With a friendly shake of his son’s hand, and an eager voice, he instantly began—‘Ha! welcome back, my boy. Glad to see you. Have you heard the news? The Thrush went out of harbour this morning. Sharp is the word, you see. By G——, you are just in time. The doctor has been inquiring for you; he has got one of the boats, and is to be off for Spithead by six, so you had better go with him. I have been to Turner’s about your mess; it is all in a way to be done. I should not wonder if you had your orders to-morrow; but you cannot sail in this wind, if you are to cruise to the westward with the Elephant. By G——, I wish you may. But old Scholey was saying, just now, that he thought you would be sent first by Texel. Well, well, we are ready, whatever happens. But, by G——, you lost a fine sight by not being here in the morning to see the Thrush go out of harbour. I would not have been out of the way for a thousand pounds. Old Scholey ran in at breakfast-time, to say she had slipped her moorings and was coming out. I jumped up, and made but two steps to the platform. If ever there was a perfect beauty afloat, she is one; and there she lies at Spithead, and anybody in England would take her for an eight-and-twenty. I was upon the platforms two hours this afternoon looking at her. She lies close to the Endymion, between her and the Cleopatra just to the eastward of the sheer hulk.’ ‘Ha!’ cried William, ‘that’s just where I should have put her myself. It’s the best berth at Spithead. But here is my sister, sir; here is Fanny,’ turning and leading her forward; ‘it is so dark you did not see her.’ With an acknowledgment that he had quite forgot her, Mr. Price now received his daughter, and having given her a cordial hug, and observed that she was grown into a woman, and he supposed would be wanting a husband soon, seemed very much inclined to forget her again.”
The statement in the beginning of “Mansfield Park” that “Miss Frances (Mrs. Price) married, in the common phrase, to ‘disoblige her family,’ and by fixing on a lieutenant of marines, without education, fortune or connections, did it very thoroughly,” is not difficult to believe.