Mr Arthur Ansard, standing at his table, selecting a steel pen from a card on which a dozen are ranged up, like soldiers on parade.
I must find a regulargraverto write this chapter of horrors. No goose quill could afford me any assistance. Now then. Let me see——(Reads, and during his reading Barnstaple comes in at the door behind him, unperceived.) "At this most monstrously appalling sight, the hair of Piftlianteriscki raised slowly the velvet cap from off his head, as if it had been perched upon the rustling quills of some exasperated porcupine—(I think that's new)—his nostrils dilated to that extent that you might, with ease, have thrust a musket bullet into each—his mouth was opened so wide, so unnaturally wide, that the corners were rent asunder, and the blood slowly trickled down each side of his bristly chin—while each tooth loosened from its socket with individual fear.—Not a word could he utter, for his tongue, in its fright, clung with terror to his upper jaw, as tight as do the bellies of the fresh and slimy soles, paired together by some fishwoman; but if his tongue was paralysed, his heart was not—it throbbed against his ribs with a violence which threatened their dislocation from the sternum, and with a sound which reverberated through the dark, damp subterrene——." I think that will do. There'sforcethere.
B.There is, with a vengeance. Why, what is all this?
A.My dear Barnstaple, you here? I'm writing a romance for B——. It is to be supposed to be a translation.
B.The Germans will be infinitely obliged to you; but, my dear fellow, you appear to have fallen into the old school—that's no longer in vogue.
A.My orders are for the old school. B—— was most particular on that point. He says that there is a re-action—a great re-action.
B.What, on literature? Well, he knows as well as any man. I only wish to God there was in everything else, and we could see the good old times again.
A.To confess the truth, I did intend to have finished this without saying a word to you. I wished to have surprised you.
B.So you have, my dear fellow, with the few lines I have heard. How the devil are you to get your fellow out of that state of asphyxia?
A.By degrees—slowly—very slowly—as they pretend that we lawyers go to heaven. But I'll tell you what I have done, just to give you an idea of my work. In the first place, I have a castle perched so high up in the air, that the eagles, even in their highest soar, appear but as wrens below.
B.That's all right.
A.And then it has subterraneous passages, to which the sewers of London are a mere song, and they all lead to a small cave at high water mark on the sea-beach, covered with brambles and bushes, and just large enough at its entrance to admit of a man squeezing himself in.
B.That's all right. You cannot be too much underground; in fact, the two first, and the best part of the third volume, should be wholly in the bowels of the earth, and your hero and heroine should nevercome to lightuntil the last chapter.
A.Then they would never have been born till then, and how could I marry them? But still I have adhered pretty much to your idea; and, Barnstaple, I have such a heroine—such a love—she has never seen her sweetheart, yet she is most devotedly attached, and has suffered more for his sake than any mortal could endure.
B.Most heroines generally do.
A.I have had her into various dungeons for three or four years, on black bread and a broken pitcher of water—she has been starved to death—lain for months and months upon wet straw—had two brain fevers—five times has she risked violation, and always has picked up, or found in the belt of her infamous ravishers, a stiletto, which she has plunged into their hearts, and they have expired with or without a groan.
B.Excellent: and of course comes out of her dungeons each time as fresh, as sweet, as lovely, as pure, as charming, and as constant as ever.
A.Exactly; nothing can equal her infinite variety of adventure, and her imperishable beauty and unadhesive cleanliness of person; and, as for lives, she has more than a thousand cats. After nine months' confinement in a dungeon, four feet square, when it is opened for her release, the air is perfumed with the ambrosia which exhales from her sweet person.
B.Of course it does. The only question is, what ambrosia smells like. But let me know something about your hero.
A.He is a prince and a robber.
B.The two professions are not at all incompatible. Go on.
A.He is the chief of a band of robbers, and is here, there, and everywhere. He fills all Europe with terror, admiration, and love.
B.Very good.
A.His reasons for joining the robbers are, of course, a secret (and upon my word they are equally a secret to myself); but it is wonderful the implicit obedience of his men, and the many acts of generosity of which he is guilty. I make him give away a great deal more money than his whole band ever take, which is so far awkward, that the query may arise in what way he keeps them together, and supplies them with food and necessaries.
B.Of course withI O U'supon his princely domains.
A.I have some very grand scenes, amazingly effective; for instance, what do you think, at the moment after the holy mass has been performed in St Peter's at Rome, just as the pope is about to put the sacred wafer into his mouth and bless the whole world, I make him snatch the wafer out of the pope's hand, and get clear off with it.
B.What for, may I ask?
A.That is a secret which I do not reveal. The whole arrangement of that part of the plot is admirable. The band of robbers are disguised as priests, and officiate, without being found out.
B.But isn't that rather sacrilegious?
A.No; it appears so to be, but he gives his reasons for his behaviour to the pope, and the pope is satisfied, and not only gives him his blessing, but shows him the greatest respect.
B.They must have been very weighty reasons.
A.And therefore they are not divulged.
B.That is to say, not until the end of the work.
A.They are never divulged at all; I leave a great deal to the reader's imagination—people are fond of conjecture. All they know is, that he boldly appears, and demands an audience. He is conducted in, the interview is private, after a sign made by our hero, and at which the pope almost leaps off his chair. After an hour he comes out again, and the pope bows him to the very door. Every one is astonished, and, of course, almost canonise him.
BThat's going it rather strong in a Catholic country. But tell me, Ansard, what is your plot?
A.Plot! I have none.
B.No plot!
A.No plot, and all plot. I puzzle the reader with certain materials. I have castles and dungeons, corridors and creaking doors, good villains and bad villains. Chain armour and clank of armour, daggers for gentlemen, and stilettos for ladies. Dark forests and brushwood, drinking scenes, eating scenes, and sleeping scenes—robbers and friars, purses of gold and instruments of torture, an incarnate devil of a Jesuit, a handsome hero, and a lovely heroine. I jumble them all together, sometimes above, and sometimes underground, and I explain nothing at all.
B.Have you nothing supernatural?
A.O yes! I've a dog whose instinct is really supernatural, and I have two or three visions, which may be considered so, as they tell what never else could have been known. I decorate my caverns and dungeons with sweltering toads and slimy vipers, a constant dropping of water, with chains too ponderous to lift, but which the parties upon whom they are riveted, clang together as they walk up and down in their cells, and soliloquise. So much for my underground scenery. Above, I people the halls with pages and ostrich feathers, and knights in bright armour, a constant supply of generous wine, and goblets too heavy to lift, which the knights toss off at a draught, as they sit and listen to the minstrel's music.
B.Bravo, Ansard, bravo. It appears to me that you do not want assistance in this romance.
A.No, when I do I have always a holy and compassionate friar, who pulls a wonderful restorative or healing balm, out of his bosom. The puffs of Solomon's Balm of Gilead are a fool to the real merits of my pharmacopœia contained in a small vial.
B.And pray what may be the title of this book of yours, for I have known it take more time to fix upon a title than to write the three volumes.
A.I call itThe Undiscovered Secret, and very properly so too, for it never is explained. But if you please, I will read you some passages from it. I think you will approve of them. For instance, now let us take this, in the second volume. You must know, that Angelicanarinella (for that is the name of my heroine) is thrown into a dungeon not more than four feet square, but more than six hundred feet below the surface of the earth. The ways are so intricate, and the subterranean so vast, and the dungeons so numerous that the base Ethiop, who has obeyed his master's orders in confining her, has himselfbeen lost in the labyrinth, and has not been able to discover what dungeon he put her in. For three days he has been looking for it, during which our heroine has been without food, and he is still searching and scratching his woolly head in despair, as he is to die by slow torture, if he does not reproduce her—for you observe, the chief who has thrown her into this dungeon is most desperately in love with her.
B.That of course; and that is the way to prove romantic love—you ill-treat—but still she is certainly in a dilemma, as well as the Ethiop.
A.Granted; but she talks like the heroine of a romance. Listen. (Ansard reads.) "The beauteous and divinely-moulded form of the angelic Angelicanarinella pressed the dank and rotten straw, which had been thrown down by the scowling, thick-lipped Ethiop for her repose—she, for whom attendant maidens had smoothed the Sybaritic sheet of finest texture, under the elaborately carved and sumptuously gilt canopy, the silken curtains, and the tassels of the purest dust of gold."
B.Tassels of dust of gold! only figuratively, I suppose.
A.Nothing more. "Each particular straw of this dank, damp bed was elastic with delight, at bearing such angelic pressure; and, as our heroine cast her ineffably beaming eyes about the dark void, lighting up with their effulgent rays each little portion of the dungeon, as she glanced them from one part to another, she perceived that the many reptiles enclosed with her in this narrow tomb, were nestling to her side, their eyes fixed upon her in mute expressions of love and admiration. Her eclipsed orbs were each, for a moment, suffused with a bright and heavenly tear, and from the suffusion threw out a more brilliant light upon the feeling reptiles who paid this tribute to her undeserved sufferings. She put forth her beauteous hand, whose 'faint tracery,'—(I stole that from Cooper,)—whose faint tracery had so often given to others the idea that it was ethereal, and not corporeal, and lifting with all the soft and tender handling of first love a venerable toad, which smiled uponher, she placed the interesting animal so that it could crawl up and nestle in her bosom. 'Poor child of dank, of darkness, and of dripping,' exclaimed she, in her flute-like notes, 'who sheltereth thyself under the wet and mouldering wall, so neglected in thy form by thy mother Nature, repose awhile in peace where princes and nobles would envy thee, if they knew thy present lot. But that shall never be; these lips shall never breathe a tale which might endanger thy existence; fear not, therefore, their enmity, and as thou slowly creepest away thy little round of circumscribed existence, forget me not, but shed an occasional pearly tear to the memory of the persecuted, the innocent Angelicanarinella!'" What d'ye think of that?
B.Umph! a very warm picture certainly; however, it is natural. You know, a person of her consequence could never exist without a littletoadyism.
A.I have a good many subterraneous soliloquies, which would have been lost forever, if I did not bring them up.
B.That one you have just read is enough to make everybody else bring up.
A.I rather plume myself upon it.
B.Yes, it is a feather in your cap, and will act as a feather in the throat of your readers.
A.Now I'll turn over the second volume, and read you anothermorceau, in which I assume the more playful vein. I have imitated one of our modern writers, who must be correct in her language, as she knows all about heroes and heroines. I must confess that I've cribbed a little.
B.Let's hear.
A.The lovely Angelicanarinellapotteredfor some time about this fairy chamber, then 'wrote journal.' At last, shethrew herself down on the floor, pulled out the miniature,gulpedwhen she looked at it, and thencried herself to sleep.
B.Pottered and gulped!What language do you call that?
A.It's all right, my dear fellow. I understand that it is the refined slang of the modern boudoir, and only known to the initiated.
B.They had better keep it entirely to their boudoirs. I should advise you to leave it all out.
A.Well, I thought that one who was so very particular, must have been the standard of perfection herself.
B.That does not at all follow.
A.But what I wish to read to you is the way in which I have managed that my secret shall never be divulged. It is known only to four.
B.A secret known to four people! You must be quick then.
A.So I am, as you shall hear; they all meet in a dark gallery, but do not expect to meet any one but the hero, whom they intend to murder, each one having, unknown to the others, made an appointment with him for that purpose, on the pretence of telling him the great secret. Altogether the scene is well described, but it is long, so I'll come at once to thedenouement.
B.Pray do.
A."Absenpresentini felt his way by the slimy wall, when the breath of another human being caught his ear: he paused, and held his own breath. 'No, no,' muttered the other, 'thesecret of blood and goldshall remain with me alone. Let him come, and he shall find death.' In a second, the dagger of Absenpresentini was in the mutterer's bosom:—he fell without a groan. 'To me alone the secret of blood and gold, and with me it remains,' exclaimed Absenpresentini. 'It does remain with you,' cried Phosphorini, driving his dagger into his back:—Absenpresentini fell without a groan, and Phosphorini, withdrawing his dagger, exclaimed, 'Who is now to tell the secret but me?' 'Not you,' cried Vortiskini, raising up his sword and striking at where the voice proceeded. The trusty steel cleft the head of the abandoned Phosphorini, who fell without a groan. 'Now will I retain the secret of blood and gold,' said Vortiskini, as he sheathed his sword. 'Thou shalt,'exclaimed the wily Jesuit, as he struck his stiletto to the heart of the robber, who fell without a groan. 'With me only does the secret now rest, by which our order might be disgraced; with me it dies,' and the Jesuit raised his hand. 'Thus to the glory and the honour of his society does Manfredini sacrifice his life.' He struck the keen-pointed instrument into his heart, and died without a groan. 'Stop,' cried our hero."
B.And I agree with your hero: stop, Ansard, or you'll kill me too—but not without a groan.
A.Don't you think it would act well?
B.Quite as well as it reads; pray is it all like this?
A.You shall judge for yourself. I have half killed myself with writing it, for I chew opium every night to obtain ideas. Now again——
B.Spare me, Ansard, spare me; my nerves are rather delicate; for the remainder I will take your word.
A.I wish my duns would do the same, even if it were only my washerwoman; but there's no more tick for me here, except this old watch of my father's, which serves to remind me of what I cannot obtain from others—time; but, however, there is a time for all things, and when the time comes that my romance is ready, my creditors will obtain theready.
B.Your only excuse, Ansard.
A.I beg your pardon. The public require strong writing now-a-days. We have thousands who write well, and the public are nauseated with what is calledgood writing.
B.And so they want something bad, eh? Well, Ansard, you certainly can supply them.
A.My dear Barnstaple, you must not disparage this style of writing—it is not bad—there is a great art in it. It may be termed writing intellectual and ethereal. You observe, that it never allows probabilities or even possibilities to stand in its way. The dross of humanity is rejected: all the common wants and grosser feelings of our natures are disallowed. It is a novel which is all mind and passion.Corporeal attributes and necessities are thrown on one side, as they would destroy the charm of perfectability. Nothing can soil, or defile, or destroy my heroine; suffering adds lustre to her beauty, as pure gold is tried by fire: nothing can kill her, because she is all mind. As for my men, you will observe when you read my work——
B.When I do!
A.Which, of course, you will—that they also have their appetites in abeyance; they never want to eat, or drink, or sleep—are always at hand when required, without regard to time or space. Now there is a great beauty in this description of writing. The women adore it because they find their sex divested of those human necessities, without which they would indeed be angels! the mirror is held up to them, and they find themselves perfect—no wonder they are pleased. The other sex are also very glad to dwell upon female perfectability, which they can only find in a romance, although they have often dreamt of it in their younger days.
B.There is some truth in these remarks. Every milliner's girl, who devours your pages in bed by the half-hour's light of tallow stolen for the purpose, imagines a strong similarity between herself and your Angelicanarinella, and every shop-boy measuring tape or weighing yellow soap will find out attributes common to himself and to your hero.
A.Exactly. As long as you draw perfection in both sexes, you are certain to be read, because by so doing you flatter human nature and self-love, and transfer it to the individual who reads. Now a picture of real life——
B.Is like some of Wouvermans' best pictures, which will not be purchased by many, because his dogs in the fore-ground are doing exactly what all dogs will naturally do when they first are let out of their kennels.
A.Wouvermans should have known better, and made his dogs better mannered if he expected his pictures to be hung up in the parlour of refinement.
B.Very true.
A.Perhaps you would like to have another passage or two.
B.Excuse me: I will imagine it all. I only hope, Ansard, this employment will not interfere with your legal practice.
A.My dear Barnstaple, it certainly will not, because my legal practice cannot be interfered with. I have been called to the bar, but find no employment in my calling. I have been sitting in my gown and wig for one year, and may probably sit a dozen more, before I have to rise to address their lordships. I have not yet had a guinea brief. My only chance is, to be sent out as judge to Sierra Leone, or perhaps to be made a commissioner of the Court of Requests.
B.You are indeed humble in your aspirations. I recollect the time, Ansard, when you dreamt of golden fame, and aspired to the wool-sack—when your ambition prompted you to midnight labour, and you showed an energy——
A.(putting his hands up to his forehead, with his elbows on the table.) What can I do, Barnstaple? If I trust to briefs, my existence will be but brief—we all must live.
B.I will not reply as Richelieu did to a brother author, "Je ne vois pas la nécessité," but this I do say, that if you are in future to live by supplying the public with such nonsense, the shorter your existence the better.
'S.W. and by W. ¾ W.
Jack Littlebrain was, physically considered, as fine grown, and moreover as handsome a boy as ever was seen, but it must be acknowledged that he was not very clever. Nature is, in most instances, very impartial; she has given plumage to the peacock, but, as everyone knows, not the slightest ear for music. Throughout the feathered race it is almost invariably the same; the homeliest clad are the finest songsters. Among animals the elephant is certainly the most intelligent, but, at the same time, he cannot be considered as a beauty. Acting upon this well ascertained principle, nature imagined, that she had done quite enough for Jack when she endowed him with such personal perfection; and did not consider it was at all necessary that he should be very clever; indeed, it must be admitted not only that he was not very clever, but (as the truth must be told) remarkably dull and stupid. However, the Littlebrains have been for a long while a well-known, numerous, and influential family, so that, if it were possible that Jack could have been taught anything, the means were forthcoming: he was sent to every school in the country; but it was in vain; at every following vacation, he was handed over from the one pedagogue to the other, of those whose names were renowned for the Busbian system of teaching by stimulating both ends: he was horsed every day and still remained an ass, and at the end of six months, if he did not run away before that period was over, he was invariably sent back to his parents as incorrigible and unteachable. What was to be done with him? The Littlebrains had always got on in the world,somehow or another, by their interest and connections; but here was one who might be said to have no brains at all. After manyprosandcons, and after a variety of consulting letters had passed between the various members of his family, it was decided, that as his maternal uncle, Sir Theophilus Blazers, G.C.B., was at that time the second in command in the Mediterranean, he should be sent to sea under his command; the Admiral, having in reply to a letter on the subject, answered that it was hard indeed if he did not lick him into some shape or another; and that, at all events, he'd warrant that Jack should be able to box the compass before he had been three months nibbling the ship's biscuit; further, that it was very easy to get over the examination necessary to qualify him for lieutenant, as a turkey and a dozen of brown stout sent in the boat with him on the passing day, as a present to each of the passing captains, would pass him, even if he were as incompetent as a camel (or, as they say at sea, a cable,) to pass through the eye of a needle; that having once passed, he would soon have him in command of a fine frigate, with a good nursing first lieutenant; and that if he did not behave himself properly, he would make his signal to come on board of the flag-ship, take him into the cabin, and give him a sound horsewhipping, as other admirals have been known to inflict upon their own sons under similar circumstances. The reader must be aware that, from the tenour of Sir Theophilus's letter, the circumstances which we are narrating must have occurred some fifty years ago.
When Jack was informed that he was to be a midshipman, he looked up in the most innocent way in the world (and innocent he was, sure enough), turned on his heels, and whistled as he went for want of thought. For the last three months he had been at home, and his chief employment was kissing and romping with the maids, who declared him to be the handsomest Littlebrain that the country had ever produced. Our hero viewed the preparations made for his departure with perfect indifference, and wished everybody good-bye with the utmost composure. Hewas a happy, good-tempered fellow who never calculated, because he could not; never decided, for he had not wit enough to choose; never foresaw, although he could look straight before him; and never remembered, because he had no memory. The line, "If ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise," was certainly made especially for Jack: nevertheless he was not totally deficient: he knew what was good to eat or drink, for his taste was perfect, his eyes were very sharp, and he could discover in a moment if a peach was ripe on the wall; his hearing was quick, for he was the first in the school to detect the footsteps of his pedagogue; and he could smell anything savoury nearly a mile off, if the wind lay the right way. Moreover, he knew that if he put his fingers in the fire that he would burn himself; that knives cut severely; that birch tickled, and several other little axioms of this sort which are generally ascertained by children at an early age, but which Jack's capacity had not received until at a much later date. Such as he was, our hero went to sea; his stock in his sea-chest being very abundant, while his stock of ideas was proportionally small.
We will pass over all the trans-shipments of Jack until he was eventually shipped on board of theMendacious, then lying at Malta with the flag of Sir Theophilus Blazers at the fore—a splendid ship, carrying 120 guns, and nearly 120 midshipmen of different calibres. (I pass over captain, lieutenant, and ship's company, having made mention of her most valuable qualifications.) Jack was received with a hearty welcome by his uncle, for he came in pudding-time, and was invited to dinner; and the Admiral made the important discovery, that if his nephew was a fool in other points, he was certainly no fool at his knife and fork. In a short time his messmates found out that he was no fool at his fists, and his knock-down arguments ended much disputation. Indeed, as the French would say, Jack was perfection in thephysique, although so very deficient in themorale.
But if Pandora's box proved a plague to the wholeworld, Jack had his individual portion of it, when he was summoned toboxthe compass by his worthy uncle Sir Theophilus Blazers; who in the course of six months discovered that he could not make his nephew box it in the three, which he had warranted in his letter; every day our hero's ears were boxed, but the compass never. It required all the cardinal virtues to teach him the cardinal points during the forenoon, and he made a point of forgetting them before the sun went down. Whenever they attempted it (and various were the teachers employed to drive the compass into Jack's head) his head drove round the compass; and try all he could, Jack never could compass it. It appeared, as some people are said only to have one idea, as if Jack could only have onepointin his head at a time, and to that point he would stand like a well-broken pointer. With him the wind never changed until the next day. His uncle pronounced him to be a fool, but that did not hurt his nephew's feelings; he had been told so too often already.
I have said that Jack had a great respect for good eating and drinking, and, moreover, was blessed with a good appetite: every person has his peculiar fancies, and if there was anything which more titillated the palate and olfactory nerves of our hero, it was a roast goose with sage and onions. Now it so happened, that having been about seven months on board of theMendacious, Jack had one day received a summons to dine with the Admiral, for the steward had ordered a roast goose for dinner, and knew not only that Jack was partial to it, but also that Jack was the Admiral's nephew, which always goes for something on board of a flag-ship. Just before they were sitting down to table, the Admiral wishing to know how the wind was, and having been not a little vexed with the slow progress of his nephew's nautical acquirements, said, "Now, Mr Littlebrain, go up, and bring me down word how the wind is; and mark me, as, when you are sent, nine times out of ten you make a mistake, I shall now bet you five guineas against your dinner, thatyou make a mistake this time: so now be off and we will soon ascertain whether you lose your dinner or I lose my money. Sit down, gentlemen; we will not wait for Mr Littlebrain."
Jack did not much admire this bet on the part of his uncle, but still less did he like the want of good manners in not waiting for him. He had just time to see the covers removed, to scent a whiff of the goose, and was off.
"The Admiral wants to know how the wind is, sir," said Jack to the officer of the watch.
The officer of the watch went to the binnacle, and setting the wind as nearly as he could, replied, "Tell Sir Theophilus that it isS.W. and by W. ¾ W."
"That's one of those confounded long points that I never can remember," cried Jack, in despair.
"Then you'll 'get goose,' as the saying is," observed one of the midshipmen.
"No; I'm afraid that I sha'n't get any," replied Jack, despondingly. "What did he say, S.W. and by N. ¾ E.?"
"Not exactly," replied his messmate, who was a good-natured lad, and laughed heartily at Jack's version. "S.W. and by W. ¾ W."
"I never can remember it," cried Jack. "I'm to have five guineas if I do, and no dinner if I don't; and if I stay here much longer, I shall get no dinner at all events, for they are all terribly peckish, and there will be none left."
"Well, if you'll give me one of the guineas, I'll show you how to manage it," said the midshipman.
"I'll give you two, if you'll only be quick and the goose a'n't all gone," replied Jack.
The midshipman wrote down the point from which the wind blew, at full length, upon a bit of paper, and pinned it to the rim of Jack's hat. "Now," said he, "when you go into the cabin, you can hold your hat so as to read it, without their perceiving you."
"Well, so I can; I never should have thought of that," said Jack.
"You hav'n't wit enough," replied the midshipman.
"Well, I see no wit in the compass," replied Jack.
"Nevertheless, it's full of point," replied the midshipman; "now be quick."
Our hero's eyes served him well, if his memory was treacherous; and as he entered the cabin door he bowed over his hat very politely, and said, as he read it off, "S.W. and by W. ¾ W.," and then he added, without reading at all, "if you please, Sir Theophilus."
"Steward," said the Admiral, "tell the officer of the watch to step down."
"How's the wind, Mr Growler?"
"S.W. and by W. ¾ W.," replied the officer.
"Then, Mr Littlebrain, you have won your five guineas, and may now sit down and enjoy your dinner."
Our hero was not slow in obeying the order, and ventured, upon the strength of his success, to send his plate twice for goose. Having eaten their dinner, drunk their wine, and taken their coffee, the officers, at the same time, took the hint which invariably accompanies the latter beverage, made their bows and retreated. As Jack was following his seniors out of the cabin, the Admiral put the sum which he had staked into his hands, observing, that "it was an ill wind that blew nobody good."
So thought Jack, who, having faithfully paid the midshipman the two guineas for his assistance, was now on the poop keeping his watch, as midshipmen usually do; that is, stretched out on the signal lockers, and composing himself to sleep after the most approved fashion, answering the winks of the stars by blinks of his eyes, until at last he shut them to keep them warm. But, before he had quite composed himself, he thought of the goose and the five guineas. The wind was from the same quarter, blowing soft and mild; Jack lay in a sort of reverie, as it fanned his cheek, for the weather was close and sultry.
"Well," muttered Jack to himself, "I do love that point of the compass, at all events, and I think that I nevershall forget S.W. and by W. ¾ W. No I never—never liked one before, though——"
"Is that true?" whispered a gentle voice in his ear; "do you love 'S.W. and by W. ¾ W.,' and will you, as you say, never forget her?"
"Why, what's that?" said Jack, opening his eyes, and turning half round on his side.
"It's me—'S.W. and by W. ¾ W.,' that you say you love."
Littlebrain raised himself and looked round;—there was no one on the poop except himself and two or three of the after-guard, who were lying down between the guns. "Why, who was it that spoke?" said Jack, much astonished.
"It was the wind you love, and who has long loved you," replied the same voice; "do you wish to see me?"
"See you,—see the wind?—I've been already sent on that message by the midshipmen," thought Jack.
"Do you love me as you say, and as I love you?" continued the voice.
"Well, I like you better than any other point of the compass, and I'm sure I never thought I should like one of them," replied Jack.
"That will not do for me; will you love only me?"
"I'm not likely to love the others," replied Jack, shutting his eyes again; "Ihatethem all."
"And love me?"
"Well, I do love you, that's a fact," replied Jack, as he thought of the goose and the five guineas.
"Then look round, and you shall see me," said the soft voice.
Jack, who hardly knew whether he was asleep or awake, did at this summons once more take the trouble to open his eyes, and beheld a fairy female figure, pellucid as water, yet apparently possessing substance; her features were beautifully soft and mild, and her outline trembled and shifted as it were, waving gently to and fro. It smiled sweetly, hung over him, played with his chestnutcurls, softly touched his lips with her own, passed her trembling fingers over his cheeks, and its warm breath appeared as if it melted into his. Then it grew more bold,—embraced his person, searched into his neck and collar, as if curious to examine him.
Jack felt a pleasure and gratification which he could not well comprehend: once more the charmer's lips trembled upon his own, now remaining for a moment, now withdrawing, again returning to kiss and kiss again, and once more did the soft voice put the question—
"Do you love me?"
"Better than goose," replied Jack.
"I don't know who goose may be," replied the fairy form, as she tossed about Jack's waving locks; "you must love only me, promise me that before I am relieved."
"What, have you got the first watch, as well as me?" replied Jack.
"I am on duty just now, but I shall not be so long. We southerly winds are never kept long in one place; some of my sisters will probably be sent here soon."
"I don't understand what you talk about," replied Jack. "Suppose you tell me who you are, and what you are, and I'll do all I can to keep awake; I don't know how it is, but I've felt more inclined to go to sleep since you have been fanning me about, than I did before."
"Then I will remain by your side while you listen to me. I am, as I told you, a wind——"
"That's puzzling," said Jack, interrupting her.
"My name is 'S.W. and by W. ¾ W.'"
"Yes, and a very long name it is. If you wish me to remember you, you should have had a shorter one."
This ruffled the wind a little, and she blew rather sharp into the corner of Jack's eye,—however, she proceeded—
"You are a sailor, and of course you know all the winds on the compass by name."
"I wish I did; but I don't," replied Littlebrain, "I can recollect you, and not one other."
Again the wind trembled with delight on his lips, and she proceeded:—"You know that there are thirty-two points on the compass, and these points are divided into quarters; so that there are, in fact, 128 different winds."
"There are more than I could ever remember; I know that," said Jack.
"Well, we are in all 128. All the winds which have northerly in them, are coarse and ugly; all the southern winds are pretty."
"You don't say so?" replied our hero.
"We are summoned to blow, as required, but the hardest duty generally falls to the northerly winds, as it should do, for they are the strongest; although we southerly winds can blow hard enough when we choose. Our characters are somewhat different. The most unhappy in disposition, and I may say, the most malevolent, are the north and easterly winds; the N.W. winds are powerful, but not unkind; the S.E. winds vary, but, at all events, we of the S.W. are considered the mildest and most beneficent. Do you understand me?"
"Not altogether. You're going right round the compass, and I never could make it out, that's a fact. I hear what you say, but I cannot promise to recollect it; I can only recollect S.W. and by W. ¾ W."
"I care only for your recollecting me; if you do that, you may forget all the rest. Now you see we South Wests are summer winds, and are seldom required but in this season; I have often blown over your ship these last three months, and I always have lingered near you, for I loved you."
"Thank you—now go on, for seven bells have struck some time, and I shall be going to turn in. Is your watch out?"
"No, I shall blow for some hours longer. Why will you leave me—why wo'n't you stay on deck with me?"
"What, stay on deck after my watch is out! No, if I do, blow me! We midshipmen never do that—but I say, why can't you come down with me, and turn in myhammock; it's close to the hatchway, and you can easily do it."
"Well, I will, upon one promise. You say that you love me, now I'm very jealous, for we winds are always supplanting one another. Promise me that you will never mention any other wind in the compass but me, for if you do, they may come to you, and if I hear of it I'll blow the masts out of your ship, that I will."
"You don't say so?" replied Jack, surveying her fragile, trembling form.
"Yes, I will, and on a lee shore too; so that the ship shall go to pieces on the rocks, and the Admiral and every soul on board her be drowned."
"No, you wouldn't, would you?" said our hero, astonished.
"Not if you promise me. Then I'll come to you and pour down your windsails, and dry your washed clothes as they hang on the rigging, and just ripple the waves as you glide along, and hang upon the lips of my dear love, and press him in my arms. Promise me, then, on no account ever to recollect or mention any other wind but me."
"Well, I think I may promise that," replied Jack, "for I'm very clever at forgetting; and then you'll come to my hammock, wo'n't you, and sleep with me? you'll be a nice cool bedfellow these warm nights."
"I can't sleep on my watch as midshipmen do; but I'll watch you while you sleep, and I'll fan your cheeks, and keep you cool and comfortable, till I'm relieved."
"And when you go, when will you come again?"
"That I cannot tell—when I'm summoned; and I shall wait with impatience, that you may be sure of."
"There's eight bells," said Jack, starting up; "I must go down and call the officer of the middle watch; but I'll soon turn in, for my relief is not so big as myself, and I can thrash him."
Littlebrain was as good as his word; he cut down his relief, and then thrashed him for venturing to expostulate. The consequence was, that in ten minutes he was in hishammock, and "S.W. and by W. ¾ W." came gently down the hatchway, and rested in his arms. Jack soon fell fast asleep, and when he was wakened up the next morning by the quarter-master, his bedfellow was no longer there. A mate inquiring how the wind was, was answered by the quarter-master that they had a fresh breeze from the N.N.W., by which Jack understood that his sweetheart was no longer on duty.
Our hero had passed such a happy night with his soft and kind companion, that he could think of nothing else; he longed for her to come again, and, to the surprise of everybody, was now perpetually making inquiries as to the wind which blew. He thought of her continually; and in fact was as much in love with "S.W. and by W. ¾ W." as he possibly could be. She came again—once more did he enjoy her delightful company; again she slept with him in his hammock, and then, after a short stay, she was relieved by another.
We do not intend to accuse the wind of inconstancy, as that was not her fault; nor of treachery, for she loved dearly; nor of violence, for she was all softness and mildness; but we do say, that "S.W. and by W. ¾ W." was the occasion of Jack being very often in a scrape, for our hero kept his word; he forgot all other wind, and, with him, there was not other except his dear "S.W. and by W. ¾ W." It must be admitted of Jack, that, at all events, he showed great perseverance, for he stuck to his point.
Our hero would argue with his messmates, for it is not those who are most capable of arguing who are most fond of it; and, like all arguers not very brilliant, he would flounder and diverge away right and left, just as the flaws of ideas came into his head.
"What nonsense it is your talking that way," would his opponent say, "Why don't you come to the point?"
"And so I do," cried Jack.
"Well then, what is your point?"
"S.W. and by W. ¾ W.," replied our hero.
Who could reply to this? But in every instance, and through every difficulty, our hero kept his promise, until his uncle Sir Theophilus was very undecided, whether he should send him home to be locked up in a Lunatic Asylum, or bring him on in the service to the rank of post-captain. Upon mature consideration, however, as a man in Bedlam is a very useless member of society, and a tee-total non-productive, whereas a captain in the navy is a responsible agent, the Admiral came to the conclusion, that Littlebrain must follow up his destiny.
At last, Jack was set down as the greatest fool in the ship, and was pointed out as such. The ladies observed, that such might possibly be the case, but at all events he was the handsomest young man in the Mediterranean fleet. We believe that both parties were correct in their assertions.
Time flies—even a midshipman's time, which does not fly quite so fast as his money—and the time came for Mr Littlebrain's examination. Sir Theophilus, who now commanded the whole fleet, was almost in despair. How was it possible that a man could navigate a ship, with only one quarter point of the compass in his head?
Sir Theophilus scratched his wig; and the disposition of the Mediterranean fleet, so important to the country, was altered according to the dispositions of the captains who commanded the ships. In those days, there were martinets in the service; officers who never overlooked an offence, or permitted the least deviation from strict duty; who were generally hated, but at the same time were most valuable to the service. As for his nephew passing his examination before any of those of the first, or second, or even of the third degree, the Admiral knew that it was impossible. The consequence was, that one was sent away on a mission to Genoa, about nothing; another to watch for vessels never expected, off Sardinia; two more to cruise after a French frigate which had never been built: and thus, by degrees, did the Admiral arrange,so as to obtain a set of officers sufficiently pliant to allow his nephew to creep under the gate which barred his promotion, and which he never could have vaulted over. So the signal was made—our hero went on board—his uncle had not forgotten the propriety of a littledouceuron the occasion; and, as the turkeys were all gone, three couple of geese were sent in the same boat, as a present to each of the three passing captains. Littlebrain's heart failed him as he pulled to the ship; even the geese hissed at him, as much as to say, "If you were not such a stupid ass, we might have been left alive in our coops." There was a great deal of truth in that remark, if they did say so.
Nothing could have been made more easy for Littlebrain than his examination. The questions had all been arranged beforehand; and some kind friend had given him all the answers written down. The passing captains apparently suffered from the heat of the weather, and each had his hand on his brow, looking down on the table at the time that Littlebrain gave his answers, so that of course they did not observe that he was reading them off. As soon as Littlebrain had given his answer, and had had sufficient time to drop his paper under the table, the captains felt better and looked up again.
There were but eight questions for our hero to answer. Seven had been satisfactorily got through; then came the eighth, a very simple one:—"What is your course and distance from Ushant to the Start?" This question having been duly put, the captains were again in deep meditation, shrouding their eyes with the palms of their hands.
Littlebrain had his answer—he looked at the paper. What could be more simple than to reply?—and then the captains would have all risen up, shaken him by the hand, complimented him upon the talent he had displayed, sent their compliments to the commander-in-chief, and their thanks for the geese. Jack was just answering, "North——"
"Recollect your promise!" cried a soft voice, which Jack well recollected.
Jack stammered—the captains were mute—and waited patiently.
"I must say it," muttered Jack.
"You shan't," replied the little Wind.
"Indeed I must," said Jack, "or I shall be turned back."
The captains, surprised at this delay and the muttering of Jack, looked up, and one of them gently inquired if Mr Littlebrain had not dropped his handkerchief or something under the table? and then they again fixed their eyes upon the green cloth.
"If you dare, I'll never see you again," cried "S.W. and by W. ¾ W.,"—"never come to your hammock,—but I'll blow the ship on shore, every soul shall be lost, Admiral and all; recollect your promise!"
"Then I shall never pass," replied Jack.
"Do you think that any other point in the compass shall pass you except me?—never! I'm too jealous for that; come now, dearest," and the Wind again deliriously trembled upon the lips of our hero, who could no longer resist.
"S.W. and by W. ¾ W.," exclaimed Jack firmly.
"You have made a slight mistake, Mr Littlebrain," said one of the captains. "Lookagain—I meant to say,thinkagain."
"S.W. and by W. ¾ W.," again repeated Jack.
"Dearest! how I love you!" whispered the soft Wind.
"Why, Mr Littlebrain," said one of the captains, for Jack had actually laid the paper down on the table, "what's in the wind now?"
"She's obstinate," replied Jack.
"You appear to be so, at all events," replied the captain. "Pray try once more."
"I have it!" thought Jack, who tore off the last answer from his paper. "I gained five guineas by that plan oncebefore." He then handed the bit of paper to the passing captain: "I believe that's right, sir," said our hero.
"Yes, that is right; but could you not have said it instead of writing it, Mr Littlebrain?"
Jack made no reply; his little sweetheart pouted a little, but said nothing; it was an evasion which she did not like. A few seconds of consultation then took place, as a matter of form. Each captain asked of the other if he was perfectly satisfied as to Mr Littlebrain's capabilities, and the reply was in the affirmative; and they were perfectly satisfied, that he was either a fool or a madman. However, as we have had both in the service by way of precedent, Jack was added to the list, and the next day was appointed lieutenant.
Our hero did his duty as lieutenant of the forecastle; and as all the duty of that officer is, when hailed from the quarter-deck, to answer "Ay, ay, sir," he got on without making many mistakes. And now he was very happy; no one dared to call him a fool except his uncle; he had his own cabin, and many was the time that his dear little "S.W. and by W. ¾ W." would come in by the scuttle, and nestle by his side.
"You wo'n't see so much of me soon, dearest," said she, one morning, gravely.
"Why not, my soft one?" replied Jack.
"Don't you recollect that the winter months are coming on?"
"So they are," replied Jack. "Well, I shall long for you back."
And Jack did long, and long very much, for he loved his dear wind, and the fine weather which accompanied her. Winter came on, and heavy gales and rain, and thunder and lightning; nothing but double-reefed topsails, and wearing in succession; and our hero walked the forecastle, and thought of his favourite wind. The N.E. winds came down furiously, and the weather was bitter cold. The officers shook the rain and spray off their garments when their watch was over, and called for grog.
"Steward, a glass of grog," cried one, "and let it be strong."
"The same for me," said Jack; "only I'll mix it myself."
Jack poured out the rum till the tumbler was half full.
"Why, Littlebrain," said his messmate, "that is a dose, that's what we call a regularNor-wester."
"Is it?" replied Jack. "Well then, Nor-westers suit me exactly, and I shall stick to them like cobbler's wax."
And during the whole of the winter months our hero showed a great predilection for Nor-westers.
It was in the latter end of February that there was a heavy gale; it had blown furiously from the northward for three days, and then it paused and panted as if out of breath—no wonder; and then the wind shifted, and shifted again, with squalls and heavy rain, until it blew from every quarter of the compass.
Our hero's watch was over, and he came down and called for a "Nor-wester" as usual.
"How is the wind, now?" asked the first lieutenant to the master, who came down dripping wet.
"S.S.W., but drawing now fast to the Westward," said old Spunyarn.
And so it was; and it veered round until "S.W. and by W. ¾ W.," with an angry gust, came down the sky-light, and blowing strongly into our hero's ear, cried—
"Oh! you false one!!"
"False!" exclaimed Jack. "What! you here, and so angry too?—what's the matter?"
"What's the matter!—do you think I don't know? What have you been doing ever since I was away, comforting yourself during my absence withNor-westers?"
"Why, you an't jealous of a Nor-wester, are you?" replied Littlebrain. "I confess, I'm rather partial to them."
"What!—this to my face!—I'll never come again,—without you promise me that you will have nothing to dowith them, and never call for one again. Be quick—I cannot stay more than two minutes, for it is hard work now, and we relieve quick—say the word."
"Well, then," replied Littlebrain, "you've no objection tohalf-and-half?"
"None in the world; that's quite another thing, and has nothing to do with the wind."
"It has, though," thought Jack, "for it gets a man in the wind; but I wo'n't tell her so; and," continued he, "you don't mind a raw nip, do you?"
"No—I care for nothing except a Nor-wester."
"I'll never call for one again," replied Jack; "it is but making my grog a little stronger; in future it shall behalf-and-half."
"That's a dear!—now I'm off, don't forget me;" and away went the wind in a great hurry.
It was about three months after this short visit, the fleet being off Corsica, that our hero was walking the deck, thinking that he soon should see the object of his affections, when a privateer brig was discovered at anchor a few miles from Bastia. The signal was made for the boats of the fleet to cut her out, and the Admiral, wishing that his nephew should distinguish himself somehow, gave him the command of one of the finest boats. Now Jack was as brave as brave could be; he did not know what danger was; he hadn't wit enough to perceive it, and there was no doubt but he would distinguish himself. The boats went on the service. Jack was the very first on board, cheering his men as he darted into the closed ranks of his opponents. Whether it was that he did not think that his head was worth defending, or that he was too busy in breaking the heads of others to look after his own; this is certain, that a tomahawk descended upon it with such force as to bury itself in his skull (and his was a thick skull, too). The privateer's men were overpowered by numbers, and then our hero was discovered, under a pile of bodies, still breathing heavily. He was hoisted on board, and taken into his uncle's cabin: thesurgeon shook his head when he had examined that of our hero.
"It must have been a most tremendous blow," said he to the Admiral, "to have penetrated——"
"It must have been, indeed," replied the Admiral, as the tears rolled down his cheeks; for he loved his nephew.
The surgeon having done all that his art would enable him, left the cabin to attend to the others who were hurt; the Admiral also went on the quarter-deck, walking to and fro for an hour in a melancholy mood. He returned to the cabin, and bent over his nephew; Jack opened his eyes.
"My dear fellow," said the Admiral, "how's your head now?"
"S.W. and by W. ¾ W.," faintly exclaimed our hero, constant in death, as he turned a little on one side and expired.
It was three days afterwards, as the fleet were on a wind, making for Malta, that the bell of the ship tolled, and a body, sewed up in a hammock and covered with the Union Jack, was carried to the gangway by the Admiral's bargemen. It had been a dull cloudy day, with little wind; the hands were turned up, the officers and men stood uncovered; the Admiral in advance with his arms folded, as the chaplain read the funeral service over the body of our hero,—and as the service proceeded, the sails flapped, for the wind had shifted a little; a motion was made, by the hand of the officer of the watch, to the man at the helm to let the ship go off the wind, that the service might not be disturbed, and a mizzling soft rain descended. The wind had shifted to our hero's much lovedpoint, his fond mistress had come to mourn over the loss of her dearest, and the rain that descended were the tears which she shed at the death of her handsome but not over-gifted lover.