Chapter Twelve.A Vulgar Tongue.Unfortunately, one cannot always get one’s own particular cabman—the favoured one of the civil tongue; and on more than one occasion I have been on the box with as surly a specimen of humanity as ever drove a horse. Now, decidedly the real way to enjoy a cab-ride—rather a difficult matter—is, providing the weather be fine, to mount beside the driver. You thus avoid musty smells, stifling symptoms, and that hideous noise of jangling windows, a sound harsh enough to jar the nerves of a bull. Yes; decidedly the best way to enjoy a cab-ride is to sink the bloated aristocrat, mount beside the driver, and fraternise.But my surly driver would not fraternise, for he was of the class known as crusty. He was a sort of moral hedgehog, and, but for his forming a study, I should decidedly have abdicated.“Ah! He’s got his gruel,” said my cynical friend as he drove past a fallen horse belonging to the General Omnibus Company. “There’s another fall in the kump’ny’s shares. Sarve ’em right. No bisniss to have such bad cattle.”Now, the beast I sat behind was about as ill-favoured and lean-fleshed an animal as his master. Evidently given to wind-gall, spavin, and splint, he—the horse, not the driver—was to an unpractised eye decidedly a jibber; while even a female ear would have detected that he was a roarer. It was evident, though, that my friend could not detect the faults of his own steed, and therefore he lavished all his abuse upon the horses of his contemporaries, whether of cab or ’bus.But this driver seemed to have a spite against the world at large; seeming to ooze all over until he broke out into quite a satirical perspiration, while his lips acted as a safety-valve to let off an explosive compound most rapidly formed in his interior. He had a snarl for everything and everybody, and could he have run over some unfortunate crossing-sweeper, he would probably have been in ecstasies. Whenever opportunity offered he snarled often and cruelly at the misfortunes of his fellow-creatures. Where the scavengers had left the scraped-up mud beside the road—and where don’t they?—he would drive right through, noisily and rapidly, forming a large mud firework—to the great increase of his after labour, certainly; but this seemed of no account; he was so amply recompensed by the intense gratification he enjoyed in besmirching as many passers-by as happened to be within range; while when he succeeded in producing a currant-dumpling appearance upon a footman’s calves, he was almost apoplectic, and rumbled with delight. Woe to the wandering dog that came within reach of his whip! It would have been better for him had he ne’er been pupped, for here there was no mercy shown. As to the passing salutations of brother cabs, they, though apparently pungent, glanced off our friend’s case-hardened composition, and the assailant would depart with a stinging sarcasm tingling and buzzing in his ears.It was enough to make one ruminate upon the vast amount of the gall of bitterness in the man’s mind, and ask how much the cab-riding world had to do with the sharpening of the thorns with which this modern Jehu bristled—Jehu, indeed, for he drove most furiously—spiny, hooked, venomous, lacerating, clinging, tearing points that would have at you and be in your skin whether you would or no; for upon asking the fare when about to alight, having previously formed the determination not to dispute a sixpence, I was told “Two shillings,” and then, tendering a florin, was greeted with—“Ho! wun o’ them blessed pieces. Should ha’ thought as a swell as purfessed to be so interested in kebs would ha’ been ashamed to horfer less than ’arf a bull.”But there are amiable and advice-giving cabbies, who seem to take an interest in the welfare of their customers.I once agreed in times gone by to “conwoy” Mrs Scribe and her sister, Miss Bellefille, as far as Richmond. ’Twas summer time, and our imaginations were full of sparkling rivers, green eyots, silver swans, and—well, yes, I’ll own it, the carnal delights of a Star and Garter dinner, with the following cigar. There was the rail, certainly, but in preference thereto I hired one of her Majesty’s carriages, VR 123,456. Our buttons had not come up in those days, so I fetched the vehicle from the stand, and rode back beside the driver. Upon reaching Miranda Villas, I lightly leaped down and rang the bell. Wonderful to relate, the ladies waited ready in the passage, and after handing them into the cab, I again mounted to the box, for the purpose of smoking upon the way down.We were moving off when a voice was heard from the interior of the cab—“George, I’ve left my handkerchief upon the dressing-table; ask Harriet to fetch it down.”I arrested the driver, who seemed to be regarding me rather superciliously, which I attributed to insignificance of appearance, when he exclaimed:—“Now, Jarge, fetch the missus’s wipe, and look alive.”“Confound his impudence,” I muttered, “he takes me for the attendant;” and then, with what must have been a decidedly melodramatic, tyrannical-baron-like scowl upon my brow, I resummoned the abigail, and obtained the required piece of cambric.The feeling of indignation had fled as I reseated myself, and during the drive down I omitted the smoke, and suffered the driver to discourse fancy free.He had an agreeable voice, had this Cabby—husky and wheezy; and but for an unpleasant habit of expectorating at the flies which settled upon the shafts, he might have proved an agreeable companion. Curiosity, however, seemed to be one of his failings, for addressing me in a mock provincial style as “Jarge,” and at the same time forcing his voice somewhere down into the cavernous recesses beneath his waistcoat, he began to catechise me after an approved method of his own.“New hand?”—I nodded.“Measured for your livery?”“What?” I said.“Measured for your harness—togs, you know?”“Not yet,” I replied mildly—a martyr to information.“Nice time on it, you fellers has: plenty ter eat, plenty ter drink, nothing ter do, and plenty o’ niste gals in the house. Got any guv’nor?”I replied in the negative.“Vell, then, young feller, you’ve put your foot into a good thing, and if you plays your cards right, you’ll make a swell of yourself in just no time. Reg’lar swell, you know; keep yer own wally, private barber, and shoeblack brigade, yer know, to keep you all square—some one to swear at when yer outer sorts. Ony think; have yer chockely brought to you in bed; and then come down arterwards in a red dressin’-gownd with gold flowers on it, and a fancy cap with a big torsel! And there yer sits, big as a Lord Mayor, and has yer breakfass outer chany. Ah, it’s a fine thing to be a swell, my lad! Arterwards yer goes out, fust chalk—all noo clothes—and when wun o’ us pore chaps says, ‘Keb, sir!’ ‘Yes!’ sez you, and you goes down to yer club and reads the papers, and drinks champagne all day till dinner-time, when yer goes back to dinner with the missus, and finishes off every night by going to the oprer. Swell’s life’s a first-rate ’un, my lad.“Niste gals them missuses o’ yourn. I should stick up ter the little ’un if I was you.” (Mrs Scribe.) “I likes the looks on her. Can’t say much for t’other. She’s rayther too scraggy for my taste.” (Miss Bellefille.) “Howsumever, it depends a good deal on which has most ochre. Though, mind yer, I wouldn’t marry a gal altogether for her tin; I’d rayther hev a good-tempered fat ’un with six thousan’ than wun o’ yer thin, razor-backed, sour-tempered ’uns with twiste as much. Tain’t no use havin heaps o’ tin if yer can’t enjoy it and do what yer likes. There’s some chaps as I knows as is spliced and dursent say as their soul’s their own; and no more durst send out for a pot o’ porter than fly. Lor’ bless you, every drop o’ drink they swallers is ’lowanced out to ’em. Ony let the missus ketch ’em with the long clay and the backer, and then see how soon all the fat’s in the fire. Gets told as they makes the parly curtains smell wuss nor a tap-room, and keeps a buzzin’ about their ears till the pipe’s reg’lar put out, and them too, werry often.“You take my adwice, young man, and don’t you go and throw yourself away. Don’t you go and make a martyr o’ yourself, and get a ring o’ bitter haloes round your head—sure sign o’ rain, you know, and the wife’s eyes a runnin’ over. I rather takes to that little ’un inside, though; she looks good-tempered. I s’pose she ain’t above five-and-twenty, is she?”I said I believed that was her age.“Good-tempered?” said Cabby; “don’t shy the bread about if it’s stale, or bully the gals, or any o’ them sorter games?”“Oh, no!” I said.“Vell, then; mind what you’re arter, and yer fortun’s made. You’ve got your hand crossed with the right bit o’ silver. I squinted over my left shoulder, and seed her a smilin’ at yer when yer brought her the handkercher. Eh? Ah! it’s all werry fine, yer know; but I’m up to yer, young feller. We see some life our way, you know. Nice artful card, you are, you know, now ain’t yer?”Under the circumstances it seemed best to own to the soft impeachment, which I did, and removed my ribs from Cabby’s rather angular elbow.“I say, yer know, bimeby, if yer look out, ’stead of ‘Jarge,’ it’ll be ‘Jarge, dear:’ ony don’t you be in too big a hurry—don’t you get a building a castle in the hair without putting any bricks under it, or else some fine morning down it comes atop of yer, and yer finds yerself flat on yer back with all the wind knocked out of yer corpus.”Then came another facetious nudge of the elbow, almost forcible enough to produce the effect so graphically described.“Play your cards well, my lad, and you’re a made man; but whatever you do, don’t be rash. Allus make a pint o’ cleanin’ yerself fust thing, and never show yourself to her with yer hair touzled and rough; and, what’s more, allus have a clean shave every morning, for there’s nothin’ a woman hates wus than a man with a rough chin—nayther one thing nor t’other. Arter a bit, some day, when she’s werry civil, and when she’s a-sayin’ ‘Jarge’ this or ‘Jarge’ that, you might, just by accident like, say ‘Yes, dear,’ or ‘No, dear,’ as the case may be; ony mind and see how she takes it; and, as I said afore, don’t be rash. Whatever you do, don’t touch her without she begins fust, or else it’s all dickey with yer. There’s many a good game been spoilt by young fellers like you bein’ too fast, and not havin’ nous enough to wait till the proper time.“There’s another way, too, you might spoil yerself if yer don’t look out. Like all houses o’ your sort, there’s some niste gals downstairs, and noises allus goes uppards a deal easier than they goes down’ards. Don’t you never let nobody upstairs hear anybody downstairs a-saying, ‘Don’t Jarge!’ or ‘Do a’ done now!’ or ‘Such imperance!’—you know, my lad, ony mind what I say: if them words downstairs is heered by any one upstairs, there won’t be a mossil o’ chance o’ them words upstairs bein’ heered downstairs. But there, I ain’t talkin’ to a flat. When we gets down ter Richmond, and your folks is gone into the Star and Garter, you’ll be standin’ a glass or two, and I can put you up to two or three wrinkles, every word of which you’ll be saving is worth five shillings to yer. Ah! I ony wish I’d half your chance; I’d be riding in a keb of my own before many months was over.“The missuses a-goin’ to a dinner, of course? Ah, and a niste day for a dinner down there, and a row on the river arterwards. Goin’ to meet some gents, I s’pose? But never you mind that. Play your cards well, and you’ll be right, and can come down to Richmond once a week on your own hook. Don’t you be a-standin’ no nonsense, though, from some o’ them big swells all mustarsh and beard, with rings on their fingers. You’ll have some on ’em callin’ at your house and tryin’ it on, and wanting to cut you out: but you can dodge ’em by running up in the room when the bell didn’t ring, and a-going up with coals, and letters, and sich like; and if that don’t do—don’t let ’em go upstairs at all. The missus’ll thank yer for it arterwards, as it’s all for her good. And them young things is as ignorant as can be as to what’s best for them. I hain’t lived five-and-forty years in this world to learn nothing, I can tell yer. Let’s see, now, you’re about eight-and-twenty, you are, and don’t seem a bad sorter chap; but you’re too tame and quiet-like—looks as if you wus just come outer the country, don’t you see? But there, that’ll all come right in time I dersay.“I say, you knows, send us a slice o’ cake when it comes off, my lad.”Upon reaching the Star and Garter I told my Mentor to await our return; gave him a shilling to obtain the glass or two of which he had spoken; and after handing out the ladies, walked off with them to the tune of a low, but long-drawn whistle of astonishment from my self-constituted adviser.I rode home inside, for the evening was damp and chilly; and upon paying the required tribute to my husky-voiced friend, he favoured me with a long serio-comic look beneath the lamp-post, and then upon placing one foot upon the wheel to reach his perch, he turned his head, winked solemnly and with a peculiar wisdom in his eye, and then Minerva Road knew him no more.
Unfortunately, one cannot always get one’s own particular cabman—the favoured one of the civil tongue; and on more than one occasion I have been on the box with as surly a specimen of humanity as ever drove a horse. Now, decidedly the real way to enjoy a cab-ride—rather a difficult matter—is, providing the weather be fine, to mount beside the driver. You thus avoid musty smells, stifling symptoms, and that hideous noise of jangling windows, a sound harsh enough to jar the nerves of a bull. Yes; decidedly the best way to enjoy a cab-ride is to sink the bloated aristocrat, mount beside the driver, and fraternise.
But my surly driver would not fraternise, for he was of the class known as crusty. He was a sort of moral hedgehog, and, but for his forming a study, I should decidedly have abdicated.
“Ah! He’s got his gruel,” said my cynical friend as he drove past a fallen horse belonging to the General Omnibus Company. “There’s another fall in the kump’ny’s shares. Sarve ’em right. No bisniss to have such bad cattle.”
Now, the beast I sat behind was about as ill-favoured and lean-fleshed an animal as his master. Evidently given to wind-gall, spavin, and splint, he—the horse, not the driver—was to an unpractised eye decidedly a jibber; while even a female ear would have detected that he was a roarer. It was evident, though, that my friend could not detect the faults of his own steed, and therefore he lavished all his abuse upon the horses of his contemporaries, whether of cab or ’bus.
But this driver seemed to have a spite against the world at large; seeming to ooze all over until he broke out into quite a satirical perspiration, while his lips acted as a safety-valve to let off an explosive compound most rapidly formed in his interior. He had a snarl for everything and everybody, and could he have run over some unfortunate crossing-sweeper, he would probably have been in ecstasies. Whenever opportunity offered he snarled often and cruelly at the misfortunes of his fellow-creatures. Where the scavengers had left the scraped-up mud beside the road—and where don’t they?—he would drive right through, noisily and rapidly, forming a large mud firework—to the great increase of his after labour, certainly; but this seemed of no account; he was so amply recompensed by the intense gratification he enjoyed in besmirching as many passers-by as happened to be within range; while when he succeeded in producing a currant-dumpling appearance upon a footman’s calves, he was almost apoplectic, and rumbled with delight. Woe to the wandering dog that came within reach of his whip! It would have been better for him had he ne’er been pupped, for here there was no mercy shown. As to the passing salutations of brother cabs, they, though apparently pungent, glanced off our friend’s case-hardened composition, and the assailant would depart with a stinging sarcasm tingling and buzzing in his ears.
It was enough to make one ruminate upon the vast amount of the gall of bitterness in the man’s mind, and ask how much the cab-riding world had to do with the sharpening of the thorns with which this modern Jehu bristled—Jehu, indeed, for he drove most furiously—spiny, hooked, venomous, lacerating, clinging, tearing points that would have at you and be in your skin whether you would or no; for upon asking the fare when about to alight, having previously formed the determination not to dispute a sixpence, I was told “Two shillings,” and then, tendering a florin, was greeted with—
“Ho! wun o’ them blessed pieces. Should ha’ thought as a swell as purfessed to be so interested in kebs would ha’ been ashamed to horfer less than ’arf a bull.”
But there are amiable and advice-giving cabbies, who seem to take an interest in the welfare of their customers.
I once agreed in times gone by to “conwoy” Mrs Scribe and her sister, Miss Bellefille, as far as Richmond. ’Twas summer time, and our imaginations were full of sparkling rivers, green eyots, silver swans, and—well, yes, I’ll own it, the carnal delights of a Star and Garter dinner, with the following cigar. There was the rail, certainly, but in preference thereto I hired one of her Majesty’s carriages, VR 123,456. Our buttons had not come up in those days, so I fetched the vehicle from the stand, and rode back beside the driver. Upon reaching Miranda Villas, I lightly leaped down and rang the bell. Wonderful to relate, the ladies waited ready in the passage, and after handing them into the cab, I again mounted to the box, for the purpose of smoking upon the way down.
We were moving off when a voice was heard from the interior of the cab—“George, I’ve left my handkerchief upon the dressing-table; ask Harriet to fetch it down.”
I arrested the driver, who seemed to be regarding me rather superciliously, which I attributed to insignificance of appearance, when he exclaimed:—
“Now, Jarge, fetch the missus’s wipe, and look alive.”
“Confound his impudence,” I muttered, “he takes me for the attendant;” and then, with what must have been a decidedly melodramatic, tyrannical-baron-like scowl upon my brow, I resummoned the abigail, and obtained the required piece of cambric.
The feeling of indignation had fled as I reseated myself, and during the drive down I omitted the smoke, and suffered the driver to discourse fancy free.
He had an agreeable voice, had this Cabby—husky and wheezy; and but for an unpleasant habit of expectorating at the flies which settled upon the shafts, he might have proved an agreeable companion. Curiosity, however, seemed to be one of his failings, for addressing me in a mock provincial style as “Jarge,” and at the same time forcing his voice somewhere down into the cavernous recesses beneath his waistcoat, he began to catechise me after an approved method of his own.
“New hand?”—I nodded.
“Measured for your livery?”
“What?” I said.
“Measured for your harness—togs, you know?”
“Not yet,” I replied mildly—a martyr to information.
“Nice time on it, you fellers has: plenty ter eat, plenty ter drink, nothing ter do, and plenty o’ niste gals in the house. Got any guv’nor?”
I replied in the negative.
“Vell, then, young feller, you’ve put your foot into a good thing, and if you plays your cards right, you’ll make a swell of yourself in just no time. Reg’lar swell, you know; keep yer own wally, private barber, and shoeblack brigade, yer know, to keep you all square—some one to swear at when yer outer sorts. Ony think; have yer chockely brought to you in bed; and then come down arterwards in a red dressin’-gownd with gold flowers on it, and a fancy cap with a big torsel! And there yer sits, big as a Lord Mayor, and has yer breakfass outer chany. Ah, it’s a fine thing to be a swell, my lad! Arterwards yer goes out, fust chalk—all noo clothes—and when wun o’ us pore chaps says, ‘Keb, sir!’ ‘Yes!’ sez you, and you goes down to yer club and reads the papers, and drinks champagne all day till dinner-time, when yer goes back to dinner with the missus, and finishes off every night by going to the oprer. Swell’s life’s a first-rate ’un, my lad.
“Niste gals them missuses o’ yourn. I should stick up ter the little ’un if I was you.” (Mrs Scribe.) “I likes the looks on her. Can’t say much for t’other. She’s rayther too scraggy for my taste.” (Miss Bellefille.) “Howsumever, it depends a good deal on which has most ochre. Though, mind yer, I wouldn’t marry a gal altogether for her tin; I’d rayther hev a good-tempered fat ’un with six thousan’ than wun o’ yer thin, razor-backed, sour-tempered ’uns with twiste as much. Tain’t no use havin heaps o’ tin if yer can’t enjoy it and do what yer likes. There’s some chaps as I knows as is spliced and dursent say as their soul’s their own; and no more durst send out for a pot o’ porter than fly. Lor’ bless you, every drop o’ drink they swallers is ’lowanced out to ’em. Ony let the missus ketch ’em with the long clay and the backer, and then see how soon all the fat’s in the fire. Gets told as they makes the parly curtains smell wuss nor a tap-room, and keeps a buzzin’ about their ears till the pipe’s reg’lar put out, and them too, werry often.
“You take my adwice, young man, and don’t you go and throw yourself away. Don’t you go and make a martyr o’ yourself, and get a ring o’ bitter haloes round your head—sure sign o’ rain, you know, and the wife’s eyes a runnin’ over. I rather takes to that little ’un inside, though; she looks good-tempered. I s’pose she ain’t above five-and-twenty, is she?”
I said I believed that was her age.
“Good-tempered?” said Cabby; “don’t shy the bread about if it’s stale, or bully the gals, or any o’ them sorter games?”
“Oh, no!” I said.
“Vell, then; mind what you’re arter, and yer fortun’s made. You’ve got your hand crossed with the right bit o’ silver. I squinted over my left shoulder, and seed her a smilin’ at yer when yer brought her the handkercher. Eh? Ah! it’s all werry fine, yer know; but I’m up to yer, young feller. We see some life our way, you know. Nice artful card, you are, you know, now ain’t yer?”
Under the circumstances it seemed best to own to the soft impeachment, which I did, and removed my ribs from Cabby’s rather angular elbow.
“I say, yer know, bimeby, if yer look out, ’stead of ‘Jarge,’ it’ll be ‘Jarge, dear:’ ony don’t you be in too big a hurry—don’t you get a building a castle in the hair without putting any bricks under it, or else some fine morning down it comes atop of yer, and yer finds yerself flat on yer back with all the wind knocked out of yer corpus.”
Then came another facetious nudge of the elbow, almost forcible enough to produce the effect so graphically described.
“Play your cards well, my lad, and you’re a made man; but whatever you do, don’t be rash. Allus make a pint o’ cleanin’ yerself fust thing, and never show yourself to her with yer hair touzled and rough; and, what’s more, allus have a clean shave every morning, for there’s nothin’ a woman hates wus than a man with a rough chin—nayther one thing nor t’other. Arter a bit, some day, when she’s werry civil, and when she’s a-sayin’ ‘Jarge’ this or ‘Jarge’ that, you might, just by accident like, say ‘Yes, dear,’ or ‘No, dear,’ as the case may be; ony mind and see how she takes it; and, as I said afore, don’t be rash. Whatever you do, don’t touch her without she begins fust, or else it’s all dickey with yer. There’s many a good game been spoilt by young fellers like you bein’ too fast, and not havin’ nous enough to wait till the proper time.
“There’s another way, too, you might spoil yerself if yer don’t look out. Like all houses o’ your sort, there’s some niste gals downstairs, and noises allus goes uppards a deal easier than they goes down’ards. Don’t you never let nobody upstairs hear anybody downstairs a-saying, ‘Don’t Jarge!’ or ‘Do a’ done now!’ or ‘Such imperance!’—you know, my lad, ony mind what I say: if them words downstairs is heered by any one upstairs, there won’t be a mossil o’ chance o’ them words upstairs bein’ heered downstairs. But there, I ain’t talkin’ to a flat. When we gets down ter Richmond, and your folks is gone into the Star and Garter, you’ll be standin’ a glass or two, and I can put you up to two or three wrinkles, every word of which you’ll be saving is worth five shillings to yer. Ah! I ony wish I’d half your chance; I’d be riding in a keb of my own before many months was over.
“The missuses a-goin’ to a dinner, of course? Ah, and a niste day for a dinner down there, and a row on the river arterwards. Goin’ to meet some gents, I s’pose? But never you mind that. Play your cards well, and you’ll be right, and can come down to Richmond once a week on your own hook. Don’t you be a-standin’ no nonsense, though, from some o’ them big swells all mustarsh and beard, with rings on their fingers. You’ll have some on ’em callin’ at your house and tryin’ it on, and wanting to cut you out: but you can dodge ’em by running up in the room when the bell didn’t ring, and a-going up with coals, and letters, and sich like; and if that don’t do—don’t let ’em go upstairs at all. The missus’ll thank yer for it arterwards, as it’s all for her good. And them young things is as ignorant as can be as to what’s best for them. I hain’t lived five-and-forty years in this world to learn nothing, I can tell yer. Let’s see, now, you’re about eight-and-twenty, you are, and don’t seem a bad sorter chap; but you’re too tame and quiet-like—looks as if you wus just come outer the country, don’t you see? But there, that’ll all come right in time I dersay.
“I say, you knows, send us a slice o’ cake when it comes off, my lad.”
Upon reaching the Star and Garter I told my Mentor to await our return; gave him a shilling to obtain the glass or two of which he had spoken; and after handing out the ladies, walked off with them to the tune of a low, but long-drawn whistle of astonishment from my self-constituted adviser.
I rode home inside, for the evening was damp and chilly; and upon paying the required tribute to my husky-voiced friend, he favoured me with a long serio-comic look beneath the lamp-post, and then upon placing one foot upon the wheel to reach his perch, he turned his head, winked solemnly and with a peculiar wisdom in his eye, and then Minerva Road knew him no more.
Chapter Thirteen.From Real Life.“Co-o-o-o-me orn,” said Cabby, as we sat by his side on the box—“Co-o-o-me orn. Nice sorter day this here, sir. Thanky, sir; I do draw a bit, and never sez ‘no’ to a cigar. Arter you with the light, sir. ‘Queer fares,’ sir? Ah! I gets some queer sorter fares sometimes—rum ’uns. All sorts and sizes, as the sayin’ is. Taking a poor gal to Bedlam ain’t pleasant—they do screech so. Blest if I couldn’t ha’ pitched into the keeper sometimes when I’ve heerd the poor creetur crying out as she wasn’t mad, and beggin’ and praying of him to let her go. It all seems agin natur, ’ticklar when a fellow’s a bit soft-like. It’s now a year come Martlemas as one night a flunkey comes up to the stand and picks me out, and werry glad I was, for I’d had a awful bad day. I used to drive a mare then as I called ‘Bagged Sal,’ cos of her tail; for she hadn’t got no tail—leastwise, none to speak on. She’d been a ’tillery ’oss out in the Crimee—one of them as stood in the front rank and got all the hair nibbled off, and the roots gnawed so as to spile the cemetery for the future. But she could go, she could, and get over the ground differun to this. Coome orn, will yer; that ain’t nothing! That’s one of her games, sir. She pulls up short every now and then, if I ain’t watchin’ her, jest as if she wanted to pick up suthin’ in the road. Well, sir, as I was a-saying, flunkey seems to know a horse as could go, or else he wouldn’t ha’ choosed mine, for she worn’t at all ansum as you may suppose, besides bein’ a wherritty beast, allus twitchin’ her stump of a tail outer the crupper, and laying her ears back and biting. Flunkey hails me, and I pulls outer the rank and picks him up.“‘Drive to Cavendish Square,’ sez he.“Now, he wasn’t a reg’lar thoroughbred flunkey, all white gloves, stockings and powder, with a long cane and crestys on his buttons, but one o’ yer pepper-an’-salt doctor’s men, all white choker and cheek, and not arf so affable as a real footman. He was one of them chaps as keeps the patients waiting in the back parly till they tips him, and then he finds out all of a sudden as the doctor ain’t engaged. Lord, sir, I’ve waited hours in Saville-Row for poor innercent creeturs as didn’t know the wally of a trifle, and so spent a hextry five shillings in cab fare.“‘Drive to Cavendish Square,’ sez he, as big as yer please and then he begins a-whistling, and a-staring at all the gals as we passes. My lord hadn’t a word to say to me, yer know, being only a kebby, and not up to his social spear in society; but I begins to pump him a little—movin’ the handle quite gentle like at first, for he wouldn’t suck a bit; but bimeby I works him round, and out flows such a bright stream of eloquence, and he begins to tell me where we was a-going to and who we was a-going to take; and then I finds as it was a young lady to a private asylum, for she was allus a-trying to kill herself, and all through love.“Well, we pulls up at a door with a werry large brass plate, and the doctor’s name on it in big letters, and there I waited for half an hour; when the door opens and I hears a screech as goes through me like a knife, and then they carries out a young gal with a face a’most like an angel, only all drawed and frightened looking.“The poor thing stares quite wild, first this way and then that way; calls out ‘Hernest—Hernest—help!’ and skreeked again as they pulled up the glasses of the keb, and then Pepper-and-salt jumps up alongside me, as it might be you, sir, and ‘Drive on fast,’ he says, ‘along ’Ammersmith Road to Chiswick’—through Kensington, you know.“Now, you know, sir, I’m blest if I know how I drove that arternoon. You see, sir, one gets knocked about here, and shoved there, and goes through lots o’ strange things to get a living; but I can’t help thinking as we’re all on us, gentle and simple, made alike, and outer the same stuff. Some on us, too, gets more than our share o’ temper, and softness, and fust one thing, and then another, and you see that’s how it is with me. I’m a rum-looking cove to look at, reg’lar rough one, you know, but then I’ve got a lot o’ softness stowed away about my heart as I ain’t no business with. Now I just ask you now, sir, as a fair judge, what business has a kebman with softness? It ain’t natural. Be as rough as you like, I says, but none o’ that. And yet my stoopid old woman at home she likes it, and says it’s natur. P’rhaps it is, and p’rhaps it ain’t. But then, you see, we don’t live in a state of natur now. Quartern loaves, pots o’ porter, and Dutch cheeses don’t grow on the hedges; and people has to look out precious sharp for enough to fill out their weskits, and I’ve known the time when mine’s been precious slack about the buttons. ’Pon my soul, sir—beggin’ your pardon for being a bit strong—you upper crusters ain’t no idea what shifts we’re put to sometimes for a living, and what hard work it is. I ain’t a grumbling, for only having the missus, and no children, things ain’t so hard as they might be. We gets along right enough, for the wife can scheme wonderfully, and toss you up a sixpenny dinner as would surprise yer. She’s up to a thing or two, an’ can go to first-class butchers and get her threepen’orth o’ pieces—topping meat, you know; twopen’orth o’ taters and some carrots and turnips; and, Lor’ bless you, you’d be surprised as I said afore. Did yer ever go down Leather Lane, sir, or past the Brill at Somers Town, or some parts of Clare and Newport Markets? Perhaps you didn’t. But jest you wait for a stinging hot day, and then go and see what the poor folks is a buying of; and then don’t you wonder no more about fevers, and choleras, and all them sort o’ troubles. There ain’t no wonder in the gin palaces going ahead, when so many poor creeturs flies to ’em to drown their sorrows. It’s this sorter thing as cheers me up; and makes me say a moral bit as I learnt—‘A contented mind’s a continual feast,’ I says to the wife; and really, sir, if you’ll believe me, sooner than I’d live as some of our poor things does I’d try and peg on along with my old mare here. We’d make a subdivision: she should have the chaff, and I’d go in for the oats and beans.“Now, where had I got to? Oh! I know, sir—about that there poor gal. I don’t know how I drove down that day for softness. It did seem so sad, so pitiful for that fine young creetur to be dragged off in that way. I quite hated mysen, for it was as though I was to do with it, and it was my fault; and at last, when we’d got up to that place where the chap used to hatch his young cocks and hens by steam—Cantelo, I think he called hisself—Pepper-and-Salt says, ‘Turn down here,’ and I turned down, and mighty glad I was when we got to the big old house, where they took the poor girl in, and I thinks to myself, ‘Ah! next time as you comes out, my lass, I’m afraid as it will be screwed down, and with the black welwet a hanging over you!’“I got werry good pay for that job; but somehow it did not seem to lit, for the soft feeling as I told you of. Every bit o’ money seemed gritty, and I felt gritty, and as I drove Pepper-and-Salt back it was me as wouldn’t talk.“I bought a haddick and took home to the old ooman for supper, and I toasted it myself, so as it shouldn’t be burnt; and then we had a pint o’ porter made hot, with some ginger and sugar in it; and as I was a-smoking my pipe and watching the haddick, I tells Betsy all about it. But, p’raps you mightn’t believe it, we didn’t enjoy that supper: I felt kinder lonesome like, and I see a big drop go off the missus’s nose more than once into the porter mug, as she sat a-rocking herself backwards and forwards.“Ah! there’s some rum games a-going on in this here world, sir!”We jogged on in silence for some little time, when “Hi!” roared Cabby at an old lady crossing the road—producing the excellent effect of making her stand still in the middle.“I know some o’ them old women ’ll be the death o’ me some day,” said Cabby. “They allus waits till a keb’s a-coming afore they cross the road, and then when they gets knocked down there’s a fuss and a inquest, and a reglar bother, of course.“Did you ever see one o’ them patent kebs as come up about five-and-twenty years ago?—I mean them with a door opening behind, and a box up in front for the driver. Niste things they was for swindling a poor cove out of his hard-earned suffrins. More nor wunst I’ve had people a-slipping out without stopping on me, and, of course, when I pulls up, if the keb wasn’t empty. Begging of your pardon, sir, it was enough to make a saint swear.“Coome orn, will yer? Arter you, sir, with the light agen; talking let’s one’s weed out more nor anything. Rum fellows them sailors, sir; there goes two with the name of their ship on their hats, like dogs with their master’s name on their collar. Rum dogs, too—British bulldogs. They ain’t no notion at all o’ what money’s worth; they seem to fancy as it’s only meant to spend—never thinks a bit about saving of it. I took one up wunst at London Bridge, and I opens the door for him, and touches my hat quite civil, for I allus does that to a fare, whosumever he be. Mighty pleased he seemed, too, for he pulls out a tanner—what you calls a tizzy, you know, sir—and he hands it over, and he says—“‘Give’s hold o’ the rudder-lines, mate, and fetch a glass o’ grog to drink afore sailing.’ And then he gets hold of the reins, and I fetches a glass of rum-and-water, and we drinks it fair atween us; and when I holds the door open agen, he pitches his bundle inside. ‘Clap on the hatches,’ he says, and he bangs to the door, and then, while I was a-staring, up he goes, and put hisself plop atop o’ the roof, for all the world like a tailor, and there he began a-chewing his bacca. ‘Deck’s clear, mate,’ he says, ‘clap on sail;’ and away we goes along Cheapside, and the boys a-cheering and hooraying like all that.“We hadn’t gone werry far before he ’ails me to stop, and then we has another glass o’ rum-and-water. And so we goes on and on, making no end o’ calls, till at last we must both have been in a werry reprehensible state, sir; for all I remembers is waking up at four o’clock in the morning in our mews, with the horse’s head as far into the stable as he could get it, and the sailor a-sitting fast asleep on the t’other cushion inside the keb just opposite to me. But then, you see, sailors is such rum chaps!“Law, sir, it’s wonderful the dodges as I’ve seen in my time. People’s beginning to find out as there’s some romance in a keb now, since that chap pisoned his wife and two children in one of our wehicles ‘licensed to carry four persons’—and then went and did for hissen. He was a bad ’un, reg’lar. I wunst had a case of that sort myself. I remember it as well as if it was only yesterday, and it’s many a year ago now. That was a night, surety—all rain and sleet mixed up, and the roads churned into a pudge—City batter, I calls it. I was on night-work, a-sitting on my box, driving about anyveres, noveres like, for it was too cold for the hoss to stand still. P’raps I shouldn’t ha’ got him on again, for he’d ha’ turned stiff. I’d been a-growling to myself like that I should have to be out on such a night, and was then twisting of an old red ’ankercher round the brim o’ my hat, to keep the rain from running down, when a street door opens, and a woman comes running out with a man arter her.“‘Come in,’ he says, a-trying to drag her back; but she hangs away, calling out ‘Help!’ and says suthin’ about ‘willain,’ and ‘baseness,’ and ‘never.’ I couldn’t ’ear all she says ’acause of the wind, though I pulls up short in front of the house: a large one it was, with a light in the hall, and I could see as the man was quite a swell, in a bobtail coat and open wesket—same as they wears to go to the Hoprer. Well, when she acts like that he makes no more ado but fetches her a wipe across the mouth with his hand, quite savage—I mean hits her—and then runs in and bangs the door arter him, leaving that poor thing out in the bitter night, in a low dress, and without a bit of bonnet.“She gives a sort of ketch or sob like, and then says to me, in an ordering sorter way—“‘Open the door, man!’“I jumps down in a minute, and she gets in and tells me to drive to a street near Eaton Square. So I shuts the door and drives off, wondering what it all meant, and feeling uncommonly as if I should have liked to give that feller one for hisself, for it was a thing I never could bear to see, any one strike a woman.“Well, we gets to the street, and then I turns round to arst her the number, when just as we passed a lamp-post I could see in at the window as she was down on the floor. You might have knocked me off the box with a wisp.“I pulls short up, jumps down, and opens the door; and there she was with her hair down, and all of a heap like at the bottom of the keb. The light shined well in, and as I lifted her on to the seat I could see as she was young, and good-looking, and well dressed, and with a thick gold chain round her neck.“Just then up comes a p’leeceman, as big as you please, and ‘What’s up?’ he says. ‘Why, she’s fainted,’ I says.“‘Looks suspicious,’ he says, a-hying me sideways.“‘P’raps it does,’ I says, for I began to feel nasty at his aggrawating suspicions. Howsomever, I tells him then where I’d picked her lip, and all the rest of it, and he looked ’nation knowing for a minute, and then he says—“‘Jump up and drive to the nearest doctor’s; and I’ll get in and hold her up.’ ‘But what’s this here?’ he says, laying hold of her hand—such a little white ’un, with rings on, and with the fingers tight round a little bottle. ‘Drive on,’ he shouts, quite fierce, an’ I bangs to the door, and forgot all about the wet.“I soon comes across one o’ them red brandy balls a-sticking in a lamp, and I says to myself, ‘That’s English for salts and senny,’ I says; and then I pulls up, ketches hold of surgery and night bell, and drags away like fun.“Then the door was opened, and we carried her in—no weight, bless you—and lays her on the sofy. Doctor comes in his dressing-gown, takes hold of her hand, holds it a minute, and then lets it fall again. Then he holds his watch-case to her mouth, and you could hear the thing go ‘tic-tic’ quite loud, for there wasn’t another sound in the room; and then he lifts up one of her eyelids, and you could see her great black eye a-staring all wild and awful like, as if she was seeing something in the other world. Then all at once she gave a sort of shivering sigh, and I could see that it was all over.“Doctor takes the bottle from the p’leeceman, smells it, shakes his head, and gives it back again. Then they two has a talk together, and it ends in us lifting the poor thing back into the keb, and me driving back to where we started from; p’leeceman taking care to ride on the box this time. And what a set out there was when we got there! Fust comes the suvvant, after we’d been ringing a’most half an hour. She looked as if just shook out of bed; and there she stood, with her eyes half-shut, a-shiverin’ and starin’, with the door-chain up. As soon as we made her understand what was the matter, off she cuts; and then down comes the swell in his dressen-gownd. Fust he runs out and looks in the keb; then he rushes upstairs again; then there was a dreadful skreeching, and a lady comes a-tearing down in her night-gownd, and with her hair all a-flying. We’d carried the poor thing into the hall then, and she throws herself on her, shrieking out, ‘I’ve killed her! I’ve killed her!’ kissing her frantic-like all the time. The swell had come down after her, looking as white as a sheet; and he gets the lady away, while p’leeceman and me carries my fare into a bedroom.“P’leeceman took my number, and where I lived; and swell comes and gives me two half-crowns; and then I took off and left ’em, feeling quite sick and upset, and glad enough to get away.“There was an inquest after, of course, and I had to go and give evidence; but somehow or other precious little came out, for they kep it all as snug as they could, and the jury brought it in ‘Temporary Insanity.’“Pull up here, sir? Yes, sir.Staroffice, sir? Phew! didn’t know as you was in the noosepaper way, sir, or shouldn’t have opened my mouth so wide. Eighteenpens, sir; thanky, sir.”“Co-o-o-me orn, will yer?” were the words which faded away in the Fleet-street roar.
“Co-o-o-o-me orn,” said Cabby, as we sat by his side on the box—“Co-o-o-me orn. Nice sorter day this here, sir. Thanky, sir; I do draw a bit, and never sez ‘no’ to a cigar. Arter you with the light, sir. ‘Queer fares,’ sir? Ah! I gets some queer sorter fares sometimes—rum ’uns. All sorts and sizes, as the sayin’ is. Taking a poor gal to Bedlam ain’t pleasant—they do screech so. Blest if I couldn’t ha’ pitched into the keeper sometimes when I’ve heerd the poor creetur crying out as she wasn’t mad, and beggin’ and praying of him to let her go. It all seems agin natur, ’ticklar when a fellow’s a bit soft-like. It’s now a year come Martlemas as one night a flunkey comes up to the stand and picks me out, and werry glad I was, for I’d had a awful bad day. I used to drive a mare then as I called ‘Bagged Sal,’ cos of her tail; for she hadn’t got no tail—leastwise, none to speak on. She’d been a ’tillery ’oss out in the Crimee—one of them as stood in the front rank and got all the hair nibbled off, and the roots gnawed so as to spile the cemetery for the future. But she could go, she could, and get over the ground differun to this. Coome orn, will yer; that ain’t nothing! That’s one of her games, sir. She pulls up short every now and then, if I ain’t watchin’ her, jest as if she wanted to pick up suthin’ in the road. Well, sir, as I was a-saying, flunkey seems to know a horse as could go, or else he wouldn’t ha’ choosed mine, for she worn’t at all ansum as you may suppose, besides bein’ a wherritty beast, allus twitchin’ her stump of a tail outer the crupper, and laying her ears back and biting. Flunkey hails me, and I pulls outer the rank and picks him up.
“‘Drive to Cavendish Square,’ sez he.
“Now, he wasn’t a reg’lar thoroughbred flunkey, all white gloves, stockings and powder, with a long cane and crestys on his buttons, but one o’ yer pepper-an’-salt doctor’s men, all white choker and cheek, and not arf so affable as a real footman. He was one of them chaps as keeps the patients waiting in the back parly till they tips him, and then he finds out all of a sudden as the doctor ain’t engaged. Lord, sir, I’ve waited hours in Saville-Row for poor innercent creeturs as didn’t know the wally of a trifle, and so spent a hextry five shillings in cab fare.
“‘Drive to Cavendish Square,’ sez he, as big as yer please and then he begins a-whistling, and a-staring at all the gals as we passes. My lord hadn’t a word to say to me, yer know, being only a kebby, and not up to his social spear in society; but I begins to pump him a little—movin’ the handle quite gentle like at first, for he wouldn’t suck a bit; but bimeby I works him round, and out flows such a bright stream of eloquence, and he begins to tell me where we was a-going to and who we was a-going to take; and then I finds as it was a young lady to a private asylum, for she was allus a-trying to kill herself, and all through love.
“Well, we pulls up at a door with a werry large brass plate, and the doctor’s name on it in big letters, and there I waited for half an hour; when the door opens and I hears a screech as goes through me like a knife, and then they carries out a young gal with a face a’most like an angel, only all drawed and frightened looking.
“The poor thing stares quite wild, first this way and then that way; calls out ‘Hernest—Hernest—help!’ and skreeked again as they pulled up the glasses of the keb, and then Pepper-and-salt jumps up alongside me, as it might be you, sir, and ‘Drive on fast,’ he says, ‘along ’Ammersmith Road to Chiswick’—through Kensington, you know.
“Now, you know, sir, I’m blest if I know how I drove that arternoon. You see, sir, one gets knocked about here, and shoved there, and goes through lots o’ strange things to get a living; but I can’t help thinking as we’re all on us, gentle and simple, made alike, and outer the same stuff. Some on us, too, gets more than our share o’ temper, and softness, and fust one thing, and then another, and you see that’s how it is with me. I’m a rum-looking cove to look at, reg’lar rough one, you know, but then I’ve got a lot o’ softness stowed away about my heart as I ain’t no business with. Now I just ask you now, sir, as a fair judge, what business has a kebman with softness? It ain’t natural. Be as rough as you like, I says, but none o’ that. And yet my stoopid old woman at home she likes it, and says it’s natur. P’rhaps it is, and p’rhaps it ain’t. But then, you see, we don’t live in a state of natur now. Quartern loaves, pots o’ porter, and Dutch cheeses don’t grow on the hedges; and people has to look out precious sharp for enough to fill out their weskits, and I’ve known the time when mine’s been precious slack about the buttons. ’Pon my soul, sir—beggin’ your pardon for being a bit strong—you upper crusters ain’t no idea what shifts we’re put to sometimes for a living, and what hard work it is. I ain’t a grumbling, for only having the missus, and no children, things ain’t so hard as they might be. We gets along right enough, for the wife can scheme wonderfully, and toss you up a sixpenny dinner as would surprise yer. She’s up to a thing or two, an’ can go to first-class butchers and get her threepen’orth o’ pieces—topping meat, you know; twopen’orth o’ taters and some carrots and turnips; and, Lor’ bless you, you’d be surprised as I said afore. Did yer ever go down Leather Lane, sir, or past the Brill at Somers Town, or some parts of Clare and Newport Markets? Perhaps you didn’t. But jest you wait for a stinging hot day, and then go and see what the poor folks is a buying of; and then don’t you wonder no more about fevers, and choleras, and all them sort o’ troubles. There ain’t no wonder in the gin palaces going ahead, when so many poor creeturs flies to ’em to drown their sorrows. It’s this sorter thing as cheers me up; and makes me say a moral bit as I learnt—‘A contented mind’s a continual feast,’ I says to the wife; and really, sir, if you’ll believe me, sooner than I’d live as some of our poor things does I’d try and peg on along with my old mare here. We’d make a subdivision: she should have the chaff, and I’d go in for the oats and beans.
“Now, where had I got to? Oh! I know, sir—about that there poor gal. I don’t know how I drove down that day for softness. It did seem so sad, so pitiful for that fine young creetur to be dragged off in that way. I quite hated mysen, for it was as though I was to do with it, and it was my fault; and at last, when we’d got up to that place where the chap used to hatch his young cocks and hens by steam—Cantelo, I think he called hisself—Pepper-and-Salt says, ‘Turn down here,’ and I turned down, and mighty glad I was when we got to the big old house, where they took the poor girl in, and I thinks to myself, ‘Ah! next time as you comes out, my lass, I’m afraid as it will be screwed down, and with the black welwet a hanging over you!’
“I got werry good pay for that job; but somehow it did not seem to lit, for the soft feeling as I told you of. Every bit o’ money seemed gritty, and I felt gritty, and as I drove Pepper-and-Salt back it was me as wouldn’t talk.
“I bought a haddick and took home to the old ooman for supper, and I toasted it myself, so as it shouldn’t be burnt; and then we had a pint o’ porter made hot, with some ginger and sugar in it; and as I was a-smoking my pipe and watching the haddick, I tells Betsy all about it. But, p’raps you mightn’t believe it, we didn’t enjoy that supper: I felt kinder lonesome like, and I see a big drop go off the missus’s nose more than once into the porter mug, as she sat a-rocking herself backwards and forwards.
“Ah! there’s some rum games a-going on in this here world, sir!”
We jogged on in silence for some little time, when “Hi!” roared Cabby at an old lady crossing the road—producing the excellent effect of making her stand still in the middle.
“I know some o’ them old women ’ll be the death o’ me some day,” said Cabby. “They allus waits till a keb’s a-coming afore they cross the road, and then when they gets knocked down there’s a fuss and a inquest, and a reglar bother, of course.
“Did you ever see one o’ them patent kebs as come up about five-and-twenty years ago?—I mean them with a door opening behind, and a box up in front for the driver. Niste things they was for swindling a poor cove out of his hard-earned suffrins. More nor wunst I’ve had people a-slipping out without stopping on me, and, of course, when I pulls up, if the keb wasn’t empty. Begging of your pardon, sir, it was enough to make a saint swear.
“Coome orn, will yer? Arter you, sir, with the light agen; talking let’s one’s weed out more nor anything. Rum fellows them sailors, sir; there goes two with the name of their ship on their hats, like dogs with their master’s name on their collar. Rum dogs, too—British bulldogs. They ain’t no notion at all o’ what money’s worth; they seem to fancy as it’s only meant to spend—never thinks a bit about saving of it. I took one up wunst at London Bridge, and I opens the door for him, and touches my hat quite civil, for I allus does that to a fare, whosumever he be. Mighty pleased he seemed, too, for he pulls out a tanner—what you calls a tizzy, you know, sir—and he hands it over, and he says—
“‘Give’s hold o’ the rudder-lines, mate, and fetch a glass o’ grog to drink afore sailing.’ And then he gets hold of the reins, and I fetches a glass of rum-and-water, and we drinks it fair atween us; and when I holds the door open agen, he pitches his bundle inside. ‘Clap on the hatches,’ he says, and he bangs to the door, and then, while I was a-staring, up he goes, and put hisself plop atop o’ the roof, for all the world like a tailor, and there he began a-chewing his bacca. ‘Deck’s clear, mate,’ he says, ‘clap on sail;’ and away we goes along Cheapside, and the boys a-cheering and hooraying like all that.
“We hadn’t gone werry far before he ’ails me to stop, and then we has another glass o’ rum-and-water. And so we goes on and on, making no end o’ calls, till at last we must both have been in a werry reprehensible state, sir; for all I remembers is waking up at four o’clock in the morning in our mews, with the horse’s head as far into the stable as he could get it, and the sailor a-sitting fast asleep on the t’other cushion inside the keb just opposite to me. But then, you see, sailors is such rum chaps!
“Law, sir, it’s wonderful the dodges as I’ve seen in my time. People’s beginning to find out as there’s some romance in a keb now, since that chap pisoned his wife and two children in one of our wehicles ‘licensed to carry four persons’—and then went and did for hissen. He was a bad ’un, reg’lar. I wunst had a case of that sort myself. I remember it as well as if it was only yesterday, and it’s many a year ago now. That was a night, surety—all rain and sleet mixed up, and the roads churned into a pudge—City batter, I calls it. I was on night-work, a-sitting on my box, driving about anyveres, noveres like, for it was too cold for the hoss to stand still. P’raps I shouldn’t ha’ got him on again, for he’d ha’ turned stiff. I’d been a-growling to myself like that I should have to be out on such a night, and was then twisting of an old red ’ankercher round the brim o’ my hat, to keep the rain from running down, when a street door opens, and a woman comes running out with a man arter her.
“‘Come in,’ he says, a-trying to drag her back; but she hangs away, calling out ‘Help!’ and says suthin’ about ‘willain,’ and ‘baseness,’ and ‘never.’ I couldn’t ’ear all she says ’acause of the wind, though I pulls up short in front of the house: a large one it was, with a light in the hall, and I could see as the man was quite a swell, in a bobtail coat and open wesket—same as they wears to go to the Hoprer. Well, when she acts like that he makes no more ado but fetches her a wipe across the mouth with his hand, quite savage—I mean hits her—and then runs in and bangs the door arter him, leaving that poor thing out in the bitter night, in a low dress, and without a bit of bonnet.
“She gives a sort of ketch or sob like, and then says to me, in an ordering sorter way—
“‘Open the door, man!’
“I jumps down in a minute, and she gets in and tells me to drive to a street near Eaton Square. So I shuts the door and drives off, wondering what it all meant, and feeling uncommonly as if I should have liked to give that feller one for hisself, for it was a thing I never could bear to see, any one strike a woman.
“Well, we gets to the street, and then I turns round to arst her the number, when just as we passed a lamp-post I could see in at the window as she was down on the floor. You might have knocked me off the box with a wisp.
“I pulls short up, jumps down, and opens the door; and there she was with her hair down, and all of a heap like at the bottom of the keb. The light shined well in, and as I lifted her on to the seat I could see as she was young, and good-looking, and well dressed, and with a thick gold chain round her neck.
“Just then up comes a p’leeceman, as big as you please, and ‘What’s up?’ he says. ‘Why, she’s fainted,’ I says.
“‘Looks suspicious,’ he says, a-hying me sideways.
“‘P’raps it does,’ I says, for I began to feel nasty at his aggrawating suspicions. Howsomever, I tells him then where I’d picked her lip, and all the rest of it, and he looked ’nation knowing for a minute, and then he says—
“‘Jump up and drive to the nearest doctor’s; and I’ll get in and hold her up.’ ‘But what’s this here?’ he says, laying hold of her hand—such a little white ’un, with rings on, and with the fingers tight round a little bottle. ‘Drive on,’ he shouts, quite fierce, an’ I bangs to the door, and forgot all about the wet.
“I soon comes across one o’ them red brandy balls a-sticking in a lamp, and I says to myself, ‘That’s English for salts and senny,’ I says; and then I pulls up, ketches hold of surgery and night bell, and drags away like fun.
“Then the door was opened, and we carried her in—no weight, bless you—and lays her on the sofy. Doctor comes in his dressing-gown, takes hold of her hand, holds it a minute, and then lets it fall again. Then he holds his watch-case to her mouth, and you could hear the thing go ‘tic-tic’ quite loud, for there wasn’t another sound in the room; and then he lifts up one of her eyelids, and you could see her great black eye a-staring all wild and awful like, as if she was seeing something in the other world. Then all at once she gave a sort of shivering sigh, and I could see that it was all over.
“Doctor takes the bottle from the p’leeceman, smells it, shakes his head, and gives it back again. Then they two has a talk together, and it ends in us lifting the poor thing back into the keb, and me driving back to where we started from; p’leeceman taking care to ride on the box this time. And what a set out there was when we got there! Fust comes the suvvant, after we’d been ringing a’most half an hour. She looked as if just shook out of bed; and there she stood, with her eyes half-shut, a-shiverin’ and starin’, with the door-chain up. As soon as we made her understand what was the matter, off she cuts; and then down comes the swell in his dressen-gownd. Fust he runs out and looks in the keb; then he rushes upstairs again; then there was a dreadful skreeching, and a lady comes a-tearing down in her night-gownd, and with her hair all a-flying. We’d carried the poor thing into the hall then, and she throws herself on her, shrieking out, ‘I’ve killed her! I’ve killed her!’ kissing her frantic-like all the time. The swell had come down after her, looking as white as a sheet; and he gets the lady away, while p’leeceman and me carries my fare into a bedroom.
“P’leeceman took my number, and where I lived; and swell comes and gives me two half-crowns; and then I took off and left ’em, feeling quite sick and upset, and glad enough to get away.
“There was an inquest after, of course, and I had to go and give evidence; but somehow or other precious little came out, for they kep it all as snug as they could, and the jury brought it in ‘Temporary Insanity.’
“Pull up here, sir? Yes, sir.Staroffice, sir? Phew! didn’t know as you was in the noosepaper way, sir, or shouldn’t have opened my mouth so wide. Eighteenpens, sir; thanky, sir.”
“Co-o-o-me orn, will yer?” were the words which faded away in the Fleet-street roar.
Chapter Fourteen.A Wheel of Misfortune.That’s our vessel out there, moored fore and aft—that one with her starn so low down, and her nose right up outer the water. You see, that’s all owing to her make. Being a screw boat, all her machinery is far aft, as you can see by her funnel; and now the cargo’s all out, she looks awkward in the water. Fine boat, though, ain’t she? There’s lines! there’s a clipper-look about her! She seems as if she’d cut through anything. My old boat was a fine one, but nothing like so fast, though I liked her, after all, far better than this; for when you get out in the warm parts the engine-room’s awful, and enough to kill a fellow; and I don’t know, after all, that I don’t like a paddle-boat best, same as my old ’un was. I’ve never seen such engines since, nor such cylinders—oscillators, you know—and one to each paddle separate, so that you could go ahead with one and turn astarn with t’other, just like the chaps in a boat rowing and backing water, so that the old steamer would almost spin round upon herself if you liked. There was some credit in keeping that machinery bright, for you could see it all from the deck, and when the sun shone, and the pistons, and beams, and cylinders were all on the work, it was a pretty sight as would pay any one for looking at.It’s only a short journey, you know—London and Hull—but it takes a deal of care, and precious rough the weather is sometimes; for our east coast ain’t a nice one, any more than it’s easy working going up the Humber, or making your way into the Thames; and then, amongst all the shipping most as far as London Bridge, there’s so many small boats about, and so much in-and-out work and bother, that at times one gets sick of going ahead, and turning astarn, and easing her, and stopping her, and the rest of it; but then, you know, if we didn’t look sharp we should soon be into something, or over it, just as it happened.I remember once we were in the Humber. It was winter time, when the great river was covered with floating ice; and as we went along slowly to get in midstream, you could hear the paddle-wheels battering and shattering the small pieces, so that one expected the floats to be knocked all to pieces; while the ragged, jaggy fragments of ice were driven far enough under water, and then rose up amongst the foam to go rushing and bumping along the side of the ship, tearing and grinding one another as they went. It was terribly slow work, for we were obliged to work at quarter speed, and now and then we’d come with a tremendous shock against some floating block, which then went grating along till the chaps in front of the paddles caught it at the end of their hitchers, and so turned it off, or the paddles must have been smashed.You see, the tide was coming up, and all this floating ice that had come down, out of the Ouse and Trent, was being brought back again from Humber’s mouth. Pretty nigh high water it was, but we started a little sooner, so as to see our way through the ice before night came on; and as I stood on deck, having come up for a moment or two, of all the dreary sights I ever saw that was the worst. Far as eye could reach there was ice-covered water, mist, and the heavy clouds seeming to settle down upon the distant banks.It was getting fast on towards evening, and seeing me up, the captain began to talk a bit about the state of the river, and whether we hadn’t better anchor, while I could hardly hear him from the clattering noise made by the paddle-floats upon the ice.“Cold place to anchor,” I says, as I looked round the deck; and then I says, “Be clearer as soon as we gets nearer Grimsby.” So we kept on, and I went down to join my stoker giving an eye to the engine, and after a few words I went up again and took a look about me. And what a wretched lookout the deck of a Hull boat is. You see it’s a cheap way of getting up to London, and parliamentary trains ain’t nowhere in comparison for cheapness, so that you have rather a poor lot of passengers; and then, what with the cargo, and one thing and another, always including the poor folks as is sick, and them as is trying to make themselves so, why, you may find much pleasanter places than the deck of a Hull steamer. But, there, the deck’s bad enough, so what do you suppose the fore-cabin is? It’s enough to make your heart bleed sometimes to see the poor miserable-looking objects we have on board, some half-clothed and looking less than half-fed as they crouch about the deck or huddle down in the cabin. Then there’s always a lot of children, and the poor, tired, cold, hungry little things soon let you know as they’re on board, and very loudly, too, making every one else miserable and wretched into the bargain.I’d been giving an eye to all this, and thinking how very much pleasanter everything would have been if we had had a fine summer’s evening for our voyage, when all at once, above the rattle and clatter of the ice amongst the paddles, I heard a horrible wild shriek from just over the side of the ship. Like half a dozen more, I ran to the side directly, and looked over, when just at the same moment I saw two men standing up in a little boat—one a sailor chap or boatman, and the other evidently a passenger; for in the glance I took I could see a bag and a box in the boat.No doubt they had been hailing, but the noise of the paddles stopped any one from hearing, while the coming evening prevented any one from seeing them till they were close on to us, and the little boat gliding along the ship’s side in company with the ice.The boatman seemed to have lost his nerve, or else he would have tried to hook on with a hitcher; but he stood quite still, and as we all looked, one of the men who had been keeping off the ice made a dash at the boat with his hook, but missed her; and the next instant there was a loud shriek and a crash, and the little boat and the two men were out of sight under the great paddle-wheel of the steamer.I dashed to the skylight, and shouted “Stop her!” to my mate, and the paddle-wheels ceased going round; when I followed all on deck to the side abaft the paddle-box, and in the dim light I could just see the swamped boat come up and pass astarn of us, floating amongst the ice.“Here, get out a boat!” cried the captain, and directly after four of us were rowing about amongst the ice, trying to find the two poor fellows who had been beaten down. Now we tried one way, and now another, and always with the great thick sheets of ice grinding against us, and forcing the boat about; while I could not help thinking what a poor chance the best of swimmers would have had in the icy water, amongst the sharp, ragged-edged floes that were sweeping by.It had got to be almost dark now, and the steamer lay some distance off, so that we could only see her by the lights hung out; when just as we had made up our minds that nothing more could be done, and were turning the boat’s head, there came a hail from the steamer for us to return.And that returning was not an easy job in the darkness, with the ice making the little boat shiver at every stroke of the oars, for it seemed to grow thicker and heavier all round us, so that we had to row carefully to keep from being overset. Till I saw it, I could hardly believe in such huge lumps of ice being anywhere out of the Polar seas; for here in England one would not expect to see pieces of ice lying stranded on the shore—pieces eight or ten feet high. But there, in the Humber, in a severe winter, a great quantity of sheet ice comes down with the tide, and being washed one piece over the other, they mount up and up, and freeze together till they get quite a height, while I have often seen small schooners and billy-boys froze in, and even raised right out of the water, so that they stood on a little hill of ice, which supported the middle, while you could walk under the keel of the fore part.After a good deal of pushing and warding off blows, we got aside the steamer at last, when the captain shouted to us to row all along, for he thought once he had heard some one shout for help. So we put her gently alongside, round the paddle-box, and were going forward a bit, when I heard a shout close by me as made my blood turn cold.But I was myself again next moment, and I got hold of a boat-hook and hitched on alongside.“Throw us a rope,” I says; and they let down the tackle, when we hooked on, and directly after they had us hauled up to the davits, when I jumped on deck.“Lend a hand here with a lanthorn,” I says, running up to the paddle-box.“Easy ahead,” says the captain, shouting down the skylight.“No, no!” I shrieked, turning all wet with horror; and then, as the paddle-wheels made about half a revolution, there came such a horrid, stifling, muffled scream as nearly froze us, and then another, but this time a plain one, for I was up atop of the paddle-box and had opened the trap.“Help, help!” came the wild cry from just beneath me, and I called out again for a light, which some one brought, and I lowered it down between two of the floats, when I could see both of the poor fellows—one astride of the wheel axle, and the other half in the water, holding on to one of the spokes; while, by the glimmering of the lanthorn, I could see their horror-stricken countenances, and the peril of their position.Just then one of them tried to say something, but it was only a sort of groan, and to my great horror I saw him throw up his hands wildly, and fall off the axle right down splash into the water, where the bottom floats were underneath, and I made sure he was gone. But there was no time for thinking, if anything was going to be done; and, giving the lanthorn to another man to hold, I got through the trap, and then, climbing about like a squirrel in a cage, I got down to the bottom, and then got hold of the poor fellow who had fallen, and managed to hold his head up, while I shouted for some one to bring a rope.Nobody seemed in a hurry to come down, and I must say as it looked a horrible place, while the water kept dripping from the icy wet floats, and I couldn’t help thinking where we should be if the wheels went round. But directly after I saw some one drop through the hole, and then the captain began to climb down with the end of a rope, and we soon made it fast to the poor fellow, and had him up. As for the other chap, he seemed mad with fright, for when we got to him his eyes were fixed and his arms clinging that tightly round one of the spokes that we could not move them. So we had to make the rope as was sent down again fast round him, and at last we got him up through the floats and out of the trap.Now, I have heard of captains setting their men good examples, and wanting to stay in places of danger till the last, but our captain didn’t, for he took the lead precious eagerly, and was soon out; but, as he got up, bang down went the lanthorn, when I had a taste of the creepy feeling those two poor fellows must have had as I hung on there in the darkness, fancying all sorts of terrible things—that they would forget I was there and give the order “Go on ahead,” when I should be leaping from float to float in the horrible darkness, to keep myself above water, till I was exhausted, when with a dying clutch I should cling to one of the spokes of the wheel and be dashed round and round till life was beaten out of me; when so strong was the imaginary horror that I could see myself turning up in the white foam behind the wheel and then floating away far astarn.It was so pitchy dark, and I felt so unnerved, that I dared not try to climb up the slimy iron-work, though I was quite familiar with its shape: and, though I dare say the time was only a minute before the light appeared again, it seemed to me an hour, and it was only by the exercise of great self-control that I could keep from shrieking aloud.But the light came at last; and, pale, wet and trembling, I managed to climb out on to the paddle-box, and had almost to be helped down on to the deck, when I pretended that I was suffering from cold, and made the best of my way down into the engine-room, where I stood in front of the fire till a bit recovered, and then changed my things.“How did we get up there?” says the boatman next day, when I was asking him about the accident—“how did we get up there? Goodness only knows; for, when the paddle beat our boat under, I didn’t seem to know anything more till we were down in the cabin.”And so the passenger that he was bringing aboard said when he came down and thanked me for what he called my gallantry; just as if it was anything to go and help a poor fellow in distress. And so it always seems to be that, in the great peril of an accident itself, there is not so much horror and dread as in the expectation and waiting for it to happen; but I know that I suffered enough hanging there in the dark on that paddle-wheel, and thought enough to have driven me out of my senses in another half-hour.
That’s our vessel out there, moored fore and aft—that one with her starn so low down, and her nose right up outer the water. You see, that’s all owing to her make. Being a screw boat, all her machinery is far aft, as you can see by her funnel; and now the cargo’s all out, she looks awkward in the water. Fine boat, though, ain’t she? There’s lines! there’s a clipper-look about her! She seems as if she’d cut through anything. My old boat was a fine one, but nothing like so fast, though I liked her, after all, far better than this; for when you get out in the warm parts the engine-room’s awful, and enough to kill a fellow; and I don’t know, after all, that I don’t like a paddle-boat best, same as my old ’un was. I’ve never seen such engines since, nor such cylinders—oscillators, you know—and one to each paddle separate, so that you could go ahead with one and turn astarn with t’other, just like the chaps in a boat rowing and backing water, so that the old steamer would almost spin round upon herself if you liked. There was some credit in keeping that machinery bright, for you could see it all from the deck, and when the sun shone, and the pistons, and beams, and cylinders were all on the work, it was a pretty sight as would pay any one for looking at.
It’s only a short journey, you know—London and Hull—but it takes a deal of care, and precious rough the weather is sometimes; for our east coast ain’t a nice one, any more than it’s easy working going up the Humber, or making your way into the Thames; and then, amongst all the shipping most as far as London Bridge, there’s so many small boats about, and so much in-and-out work and bother, that at times one gets sick of going ahead, and turning astarn, and easing her, and stopping her, and the rest of it; but then, you know, if we didn’t look sharp we should soon be into something, or over it, just as it happened.
I remember once we were in the Humber. It was winter time, when the great river was covered with floating ice; and as we went along slowly to get in midstream, you could hear the paddle-wheels battering and shattering the small pieces, so that one expected the floats to be knocked all to pieces; while the ragged, jaggy fragments of ice were driven far enough under water, and then rose up amongst the foam to go rushing and bumping along the side of the ship, tearing and grinding one another as they went. It was terribly slow work, for we were obliged to work at quarter speed, and now and then we’d come with a tremendous shock against some floating block, which then went grating along till the chaps in front of the paddles caught it at the end of their hitchers, and so turned it off, or the paddles must have been smashed.
You see, the tide was coming up, and all this floating ice that had come down, out of the Ouse and Trent, was being brought back again from Humber’s mouth. Pretty nigh high water it was, but we started a little sooner, so as to see our way through the ice before night came on; and as I stood on deck, having come up for a moment or two, of all the dreary sights I ever saw that was the worst. Far as eye could reach there was ice-covered water, mist, and the heavy clouds seeming to settle down upon the distant banks.
It was getting fast on towards evening, and seeing me up, the captain began to talk a bit about the state of the river, and whether we hadn’t better anchor, while I could hardly hear him from the clattering noise made by the paddle-floats upon the ice.
“Cold place to anchor,” I says, as I looked round the deck; and then I says, “Be clearer as soon as we gets nearer Grimsby.” So we kept on, and I went down to join my stoker giving an eye to the engine, and after a few words I went up again and took a look about me. And what a wretched lookout the deck of a Hull boat is. You see it’s a cheap way of getting up to London, and parliamentary trains ain’t nowhere in comparison for cheapness, so that you have rather a poor lot of passengers; and then, what with the cargo, and one thing and another, always including the poor folks as is sick, and them as is trying to make themselves so, why, you may find much pleasanter places than the deck of a Hull steamer. But, there, the deck’s bad enough, so what do you suppose the fore-cabin is? It’s enough to make your heart bleed sometimes to see the poor miserable-looking objects we have on board, some half-clothed and looking less than half-fed as they crouch about the deck or huddle down in the cabin. Then there’s always a lot of children, and the poor, tired, cold, hungry little things soon let you know as they’re on board, and very loudly, too, making every one else miserable and wretched into the bargain.
I’d been giving an eye to all this, and thinking how very much pleasanter everything would have been if we had had a fine summer’s evening for our voyage, when all at once, above the rattle and clatter of the ice amongst the paddles, I heard a horrible wild shriek from just over the side of the ship. Like half a dozen more, I ran to the side directly, and looked over, when just at the same moment I saw two men standing up in a little boat—one a sailor chap or boatman, and the other evidently a passenger; for in the glance I took I could see a bag and a box in the boat.
No doubt they had been hailing, but the noise of the paddles stopped any one from hearing, while the coming evening prevented any one from seeing them till they were close on to us, and the little boat gliding along the ship’s side in company with the ice.
The boatman seemed to have lost his nerve, or else he would have tried to hook on with a hitcher; but he stood quite still, and as we all looked, one of the men who had been keeping off the ice made a dash at the boat with his hook, but missed her; and the next instant there was a loud shriek and a crash, and the little boat and the two men were out of sight under the great paddle-wheel of the steamer.
I dashed to the skylight, and shouted “Stop her!” to my mate, and the paddle-wheels ceased going round; when I followed all on deck to the side abaft the paddle-box, and in the dim light I could just see the swamped boat come up and pass astarn of us, floating amongst the ice.
“Here, get out a boat!” cried the captain, and directly after four of us were rowing about amongst the ice, trying to find the two poor fellows who had been beaten down. Now we tried one way, and now another, and always with the great thick sheets of ice grinding against us, and forcing the boat about; while I could not help thinking what a poor chance the best of swimmers would have had in the icy water, amongst the sharp, ragged-edged floes that were sweeping by.
It had got to be almost dark now, and the steamer lay some distance off, so that we could only see her by the lights hung out; when just as we had made up our minds that nothing more could be done, and were turning the boat’s head, there came a hail from the steamer for us to return.
And that returning was not an easy job in the darkness, with the ice making the little boat shiver at every stroke of the oars, for it seemed to grow thicker and heavier all round us, so that we had to row carefully to keep from being overset. Till I saw it, I could hardly believe in such huge lumps of ice being anywhere out of the Polar seas; for here in England one would not expect to see pieces of ice lying stranded on the shore—pieces eight or ten feet high. But there, in the Humber, in a severe winter, a great quantity of sheet ice comes down with the tide, and being washed one piece over the other, they mount up and up, and freeze together till they get quite a height, while I have often seen small schooners and billy-boys froze in, and even raised right out of the water, so that they stood on a little hill of ice, which supported the middle, while you could walk under the keel of the fore part.
After a good deal of pushing and warding off blows, we got aside the steamer at last, when the captain shouted to us to row all along, for he thought once he had heard some one shout for help. So we put her gently alongside, round the paddle-box, and were going forward a bit, when I heard a shout close by me as made my blood turn cold.
But I was myself again next moment, and I got hold of a boat-hook and hitched on alongside.
“Throw us a rope,” I says; and they let down the tackle, when we hooked on, and directly after they had us hauled up to the davits, when I jumped on deck.
“Lend a hand here with a lanthorn,” I says, running up to the paddle-box.
“Easy ahead,” says the captain, shouting down the skylight.
“No, no!” I shrieked, turning all wet with horror; and then, as the paddle-wheels made about half a revolution, there came such a horrid, stifling, muffled scream as nearly froze us, and then another, but this time a plain one, for I was up atop of the paddle-box and had opened the trap.
“Help, help!” came the wild cry from just beneath me, and I called out again for a light, which some one brought, and I lowered it down between two of the floats, when I could see both of the poor fellows—one astride of the wheel axle, and the other half in the water, holding on to one of the spokes; while, by the glimmering of the lanthorn, I could see their horror-stricken countenances, and the peril of their position.
Just then one of them tried to say something, but it was only a sort of groan, and to my great horror I saw him throw up his hands wildly, and fall off the axle right down splash into the water, where the bottom floats were underneath, and I made sure he was gone. But there was no time for thinking, if anything was going to be done; and, giving the lanthorn to another man to hold, I got through the trap, and then, climbing about like a squirrel in a cage, I got down to the bottom, and then got hold of the poor fellow who had fallen, and managed to hold his head up, while I shouted for some one to bring a rope.
Nobody seemed in a hurry to come down, and I must say as it looked a horrible place, while the water kept dripping from the icy wet floats, and I couldn’t help thinking where we should be if the wheels went round. But directly after I saw some one drop through the hole, and then the captain began to climb down with the end of a rope, and we soon made it fast to the poor fellow, and had him up. As for the other chap, he seemed mad with fright, for when we got to him his eyes were fixed and his arms clinging that tightly round one of the spokes that we could not move them. So we had to make the rope as was sent down again fast round him, and at last we got him up through the floats and out of the trap.
Now, I have heard of captains setting their men good examples, and wanting to stay in places of danger till the last, but our captain didn’t, for he took the lead precious eagerly, and was soon out; but, as he got up, bang down went the lanthorn, when I had a taste of the creepy feeling those two poor fellows must have had as I hung on there in the darkness, fancying all sorts of terrible things—that they would forget I was there and give the order “Go on ahead,” when I should be leaping from float to float in the horrible darkness, to keep myself above water, till I was exhausted, when with a dying clutch I should cling to one of the spokes of the wheel and be dashed round and round till life was beaten out of me; when so strong was the imaginary horror that I could see myself turning up in the white foam behind the wheel and then floating away far astarn.
It was so pitchy dark, and I felt so unnerved, that I dared not try to climb up the slimy iron-work, though I was quite familiar with its shape: and, though I dare say the time was only a minute before the light appeared again, it seemed to me an hour, and it was only by the exercise of great self-control that I could keep from shrieking aloud.
But the light came at last; and, pale, wet and trembling, I managed to climb out on to the paddle-box, and had almost to be helped down on to the deck, when I pretended that I was suffering from cold, and made the best of my way down into the engine-room, where I stood in front of the fire till a bit recovered, and then changed my things.
“How did we get up there?” says the boatman next day, when I was asking him about the accident—“how did we get up there? Goodness only knows; for, when the paddle beat our boat under, I didn’t seem to know anything more till we were down in the cabin.”
And so the passenger that he was bringing aboard said when he came down and thanked me for what he called my gallantry; just as if it was anything to go and help a poor fellow in distress. And so it always seems to be that, in the great peril of an accident itself, there is not so much horror and dread as in the expectation and waiting for it to happen; but I know that I suffered enough hanging there in the dark on that paddle-wheel, and thought enough to have driven me out of my senses in another half-hour.
Chapter Fifteen.A Sea Breeze.“Man killed saluting her Majesty,” as we read in the papers t’other day: poor fellow, told off at the rammer he was, and for want of proper sponging out; when he drove in the great cartridge, it exploded before he could leap back, and in a moment he was gone. How it brought up all my old sea life, and the days on board the fifty-gun frigate that I’ll call here theLysander, so as to say nothing about names that might be unsavoury in some people’s nostrils. There I was again at gun drill, or ball practice, down on the main-deck. Now I was numbered to ram, or sponge; now at the lanyard to fire; now one thing and now another; and I could see it all so plainly: the big cartridge, the twisted wheel of a wad, the shot in the racks, and the little quills full of powder for the touch-hole. Why, I could even fancy my ears ringing and singing again after the heavy report; and as I sat at my window, there was I fancying it was a port-hole, and shading my eyes to look out and see the shot go skipping and ricochetting along from wave to wave. Now, again, it was examining day for the shells, and there we were, two of us, slung outside the ship on a platform, and the shells in their little wood boxes handed over the side and down to us; for it was a very dangerous job, and the officers kindly arranged that if in unscrewing the fuse one of the shells exploded, why only us two would be in for it. I didn’t half like the job for my part, but the old master at arms had done it so often that he thought no more of it than going down to mess, and more than once I’ve heard him wish for a pipe, while I believe he would have smoked it.Four years out in the Pacific we were, and more than one brush we had with the Rooshians up there at Petropaulovski, but mostly it was very dull cruising about. True, we used to get a change now and then; once or twice we had a turn in Vancouver’s Island, and had a shooting party or two after the pretty little quails, handsome little birds with a crest, and prime eating. Then, one night, we sailed into the beautiful harbour at Nukuheva, in the Marquesas, as lovely a spot as it is possible to imagine; and as I saw it then by moonlight, such a sight as I can never forget—all moonlight on the beautiful trees, with cascades falling from the larger rocks; just in front the belt of white sand, and the sea gently wash-wash and curling over in creamy breakers. Another time it would be the Sandwich Islands, and when some of us were ashore there, I’m blest if it wasn’t as good as a play, and you couldn’t hardly believe it. Why, there was a regular civilised town, with the names of the streets up in their lingo; and as to the shops, they were as right as could be, ’specially where they sold prog; while the chemist’s was quite the thing, all glass, and varnish, and coloured bottles; and Charley Gordon, my mate, actually went in and bought two ounces of Epsom salts, and the man asked him if he didn’t want any senny.It quite knocked a man over, you know, for you went there expecting to meet with nothing but savages of the same breed as killed Captain Cook; but though he was killed there, let me tell you it’s a precious sore subject with them, and they won’t talk about it if they can help it; and I believe, after all, it was through a mistake that the poor fellow was killed.Now again we’d go to Callao, or Valparaiso, or Juan Fernandez, and lying idle off one of the ports, see them bring out their convicts and chaps to punish. One dodge they had was to put so many of ’em into a leaky boat right out in the harbour, and there they’d have to keep on pump—pump—pump—and work hard, too, to keep themselves afloat; for if they hadn’t kept at it, down they must have gone, and as my mate said—“Life was sweet, even to a convict.” Sometimes we’ve seen them punish men by lashing ’em to a spar, and then sousing ’em overboard till they’re half drowned, when up they’d come again, choking and sputtering to get their breath; then down again once more, and then up, till one of our chaps began to swear, and be as savage as could be, at what he called such cowardly humbugging ways.“Why,” says he—“Why can’t they give a fellow his four dozen and done with it? But it’s just like them beggarly chattermonkey furreneering coves. I should just like ter—”And here he began squaring about, Tom Sayers fashion, as if he’d have liked to have a set to with some of ’em.Now just about that time we used to have a wonderful sight of flogging on board our ship. For two years I don’t believe there was a chap had up; and for why? because our captain was one of the right sort, and I believe loved his men. He was a Tartar, too, and he’d have everything right up to the mark, and done like lightning, stamping up and down there with a trumpet under his arm; but then he’d a way with him which the men liked, and they’d do anything for him. Why, I don’t believe there was a smarter ship and crew in the service; and though we never had a regular set to with a Russian, except boat service on shore, I’m thinking we should have shown what theLysandercould do if called upon. There was no flogging then, for a bit of grog stopping did nearly always, and the men used to take a pride in themselves and their ship, as is the case everywhere when the officers are gentlemen.When I say a gentleman, I don’t mean a silver-spoon man, but one who, having men under him, treats them as they should be treated, and though strict and stern, knows when a kind word’s right, and after making them work like trumps, sees that they’re comfortable and well-fed. Why, I’ve known our captain and first lieutenant do anything sooner than get the men wet if it rained—keeping sail on till it was really obliged to be taken in.Capital prime beef and biscuit we always had, and first-class old rum, and what dodges we used to have to get a drop extra sometimes. Charley, my mate, used to be generally pretty wide-awake; and taking notice how the rum used to be pumped out of the cask by the purser’s steward with a bright brass pump, he says to him one day—“Why don’t you save a drop of rum, Tom, in the pump?”“How can I?” he says, “when it all runs out.”Charley says something to him, though, and very next day, while the purser was looking on, Tom pumps out the regular quantity into the grog tub, and then forgets to push the handle of the pump down, but pulls it out of the tub, and runs down below with it, and when he pushed the handle down again, out came about a pint of strong rum.That was one way; but another dodge was this. The grog used to be mixed in a tub, and then there was the serving out, when nearly always there’d be a lot left, perhaps a gallon, or a gallon and a half, after the ship’s company had been all served. Now, I don’t know why this wasn’t saved; but after every man had had his “tot” under the officer’s eye, this “plush,” as we used to call it, was poured down one of the scuppers, the officer always seeing it done.“That’s thundering wasteful, mate,” says Charley; and I nodded and wished my mouth was under the scupper; for a little extra grog to a sailor’s a great treat, ’specially as he can’t do like another man ashore—go and buy a drop whenever he likes. So, half an hour after, we were down along with the armourer, and what with a bit of nous, a couple of tin-canisters, and a lanyard, we soon had a long tin affair that we could let down the scupper, where we tied it with the lanyard and left it.Now, perhaps, every one don’t know that what we call the scupper is a sort of sink, or gulley-hole, by the ship’s side, to let off the water when the decks are washed, or a wave comes aboard; and though it may sound queer to catch rum and water that is sent down a sink-hole, you must understand that well out at sea the deck of a man-of-war is as clean and white as washing and scrubbing can make it—a drop of salt water being the foulest thing that passes down a scupper.Well, our machine answered first-rate, and though it didn’t catch only half of the stuff thrown down, yet we often got a quart of good grog, and had a pleasant half-hour down the main-deck drinking it.But things soon turned unpleasant; we had a fresh captain, whom I’ll call Captain Strangeways, and very soon the cat began to be at work. Times were, of course, that men would buy each other’s grog, and have a little more than they should, and then, instead of a mild punishment, and a trial at reforming such men, it was flogging; and instead of this doing any good, it made the men worse, and drunkenness more frequent, till the floggings used to be constant, and instead of our ship being about the smartest afloat, I believe she grew to be one of the most slovenly, and the men took a delight in annoying the captain and officers.In the very low latitudes, where the heat is sometimes terribly hard to bear, it is the custom to have what we call a windsail, that is a regular great canvas pipe, hung so that one end goes down the hatchways, while the other is tied up to the rigging; and of a hot night the cool current that came down would be delightful. But down on the main-deck, with perhaps four hundred men sleeping, even this would not be enough, and we used to sleep with the ports open. But this displeased the captain; for in other latitudes the custom was to shut the ports down at eight o’clock at night, and he, accordingly, gave orders that this should be kept up; so at eight o’clock one night, watch was set, and all the ports were closed.Phew! I can almost feel it now. Why, it was stifling. We could hardly breathe; and first one and then another jumped out of his hammock, and opened a port, and then we had no end of palavering, for the men were regularly unanimous over it, that we could not bear the heat; and the consequence was, that we made our arrangements for a bit of a breeze next night.Eight o’clock came, and we were lying at anchor off Callao. Gun-fire—and then at the order down went the ports, and then all was darkness; but at the next moment, there was the chirping of the whistles of the boatswain’s mates; and so well had the men worked together, and made their plans, that up flew all the ports again directly.Then the row began; the officers got alongside the captain, the marines were called aft, and then lanterns ranged along the quarter deck, and the men summoned and ranged across in a gang several deep. The captain raged and stormed. He’d flog every man on board, and—“Crash!” There was a lantern down; some one out of the tops had thrown a big ball of spunyarn of the size of a Dutch cheese, and knocked the light over.—He’d have the man in irons that threw that ball.“Crash—crash—crash!” there came a regular volley, and every lantern was knocked off and rolled about the deck.“Marines! up the rigging, there, into the mizen and main tops!” shouted the captain, “and bring those men down.” When up went the Johnnies, of course, very slowly, for they couldn’t climb a bit, while the men were down the sheets in an instant, and behind the others on deck.Then the captain had a few words with the first lieutenant, and the men were piped down; and the ports not being touched, all seemed to be pretty quiet, when the officers collected together in the gun-room, and began talking the matter over—some at chess, and some at their grog; but the game was not quite over, for the men were just ripe for a bit of mischief, and fast working themselves up into that state when mutinies take place. All at once, when everything seemed at its quietest, there was a shrill chirrup; and then a number of the biggest shot were set rolling out of their racks right along the deck, as it sloped down towards the gun-room door.“Rumble—rumble—rumble; bang—crash—crash!” they went, dashing open the door where the officers in dismay were sitting in all positions: with their legs drawn up, or sticking out at right angles, and then came another volley, but this time it was one of laughter, and by the time the sentries had called up the relief, and had the shots replaced in the racks, all was still and quiet, while the next night the captain left the ports untouched.
“Man killed saluting her Majesty,” as we read in the papers t’other day: poor fellow, told off at the rammer he was, and for want of proper sponging out; when he drove in the great cartridge, it exploded before he could leap back, and in a moment he was gone. How it brought up all my old sea life, and the days on board the fifty-gun frigate that I’ll call here theLysander, so as to say nothing about names that might be unsavoury in some people’s nostrils. There I was again at gun drill, or ball practice, down on the main-deck. Now I was numbered to ram, or sponge; now at the lanyard to fire; now one thing and now another; and I could see it all so plainly: the big cartridge, the twisted wheel of a wad, the shot in the racks, and the little quills full of powder for the touch-hole. Why, I could even fancy my ears ringing and singing again after the heavy report; and as I sat at my window, there was I fancying it was a port-hole, and shading my eyes to look out and see the shot go skipping and ricochetting along from wave to wave. Now, again, it was examining day for the shells, and there we were, two of us, slung outside the ship on a platform, and the shells in their little wood boxes handed over the side and down to us; for it was a very dangerous job, and the officers kindly arranged that if in unscrewing the fuse one of the shells exploded, why only us two would be in for it. I didn’t half like the job for my part, but the old master at arms had done it so often that he thought no more of it than going down to mess, and more than once I’ve heard him wish for a pipe, while I believe he would have smoked it.
Four years out in the Pacific we were, and more than one brush we had with the Rooshians up there at Petropaulovski, but mostly it was very dull cruising about. True, we used to get a change now and then; once or twice we had a turn in Vancouver’s Island, and had a shooting party or two after the pretty little quails, handsome little birds with a crest, and prime eating. Then, one night, we sailed into the beautiful harbour at Nukuheva, in the Marquesas, as lovely a spot as it is possible to imagine; and as I saw it then by moonlight, such a sight as I can never forget—all moonlight on the beautiful trees, with cascades falling from the larger rocks; just in front the belt of white sand, and the sea gently wash-wash and curling over in creamy breakers. Another time it would be the Sandwich Islands, and when some of us were ashore there, I’m blest if it wasn’t as good as a play, and you couldn’t hardly believe it. Why, there was a regular civilised town, with the names of the streets up in their lingo; and as to the shops, they were as right as could be, ’specially where they sold prog; while the chemist’s was quite the thing, all glass, and varnish, and coloured bottles; and Charley Gordon, my mate, actually went in and bought two ounces of Epsom salts, and the man asked him if he didn’t want any senny.
It quite knocked a man over, you know, for you went there expecting to meet with nothing but savages of the same breed as killed Captain Cook; but though he was killed there, let me tell you it’s a precious sore subject with them, and they won’t talk about it if they can help it; and I believe, after all, it was through a mistake that the poor fellow was killed.
Now again we’d go to Callao, or Valparaiso, or Juan Fernandez, and lying idle off one of the ports, see them bring out their convicts and chaps to punish. One dodge they had was to put so many of ’em into a leaky boat right out in the harbour, and there they’d have to keep on pump—pump—pump—and work hard, too, to keep themselves afloat; for if they hadn’t kept at it, down they must have gone, and as my mate said—“Life was sweet, even to a convict.” Sometimes we’ve seen them punish men by lashing ’em to a spar, and then sousing ’em overboard till they’re half drowned, when up they’d come again, choking and sputtering to get their breath; then down again once more, and then up, till one of our chaps began to swear, and be as savage as could be, at what he called such cowardly humbugging ways.
“Why,” says he—“Why can’t they give a fellow his four dozen and done with it? But it’s just like them beggarly chattermonkey furreneering coves. I should just like ter—”
And here he began squaring about, Tom Sayers fashion, as if he’d have liked to have a set to with some of ’em.
Now just about that time we used to have a wonderful sight of flogging on board our ship. For two years I don’t believe there was a chap had up; and for why? because our captain was one of the right sort, and I believe loved his men. He was a Tartar, too, and he’d have everything right up to the mark, and done like lightning, stamping up and down there with a trumpet under his arm; but then he’d a way with him which the men liked, and they’d do anything for him. Why, I don’t believe there was a smarter ship and crew in the service; and though we never had a regular set to with a Russian, except boat service on shore, I’m thinking we should have shown what theLysandercould do if called upon. There was no flogging then, for a bit of grog stopping did nearly always, and the men used to take a pride in themselves and their ship, as is the case everywhere when the officers are gentlemen.
When I say a gentleman, I don’t mean a silver-spoon man, but one who, having men under him, treats them as they should be treated, and though strict and stern, knows when a kind word’s right, and after making them work like trumps, sees that they’re comfortable and well-fed. Why, I’ve known our captain and first lieutenant do anything sooner than get the men wet if it rained—keeping sail on till it was really obliged to be taken in.
Capital prime beef and biscuit we always had, and first-class old rum, and what dodges we used to have to get a drop extra sometimes. Charley, my mate, used to be generally pretty wide-awake; and taking notice how the rum used to be pumped out of the cask by the purser’s steward with a bright brass pump, he says to him one day—
“Why don’t you save a drop of rum, Tom, in the pump?”
“How can I?” he says, “when it all runs out.”
Charley says something to him, though, and very next day, while the purser was looking on, Tom pumps out the regular quantity into the grog tub, and then forgets to push the handle of the pump down, but pulls it out of the tub, and runs down below with it, and when he pushed the handle down again, out came about a pint of strong rum.
That was one way; but another dodge was this. The grog used to be mixed in a tub, and then there was the serving out, when nearly always there’d be a lot left, perhaps a gallon, or a gallon and a half, after the ship’s company had been all served. Now, I don’t know why this wasn’t saved; but after every man had had his “tot” under the officer’s eye, this “plush,” as we used to call it, was poured down one of the scuppers, the officer always seeing it done.
“That’s thundering wasteful, mate,” says Charley; and I nodded and wished my mouth was under the scupper; for a little extra grog to a sailor’s a great treat, ’specially as he can’t do like another man ashore—go and buy a drop whenever he likes. So, half an hour after, we were down along with the armourer, and what with a bit of nous, a couple of tin-canisters, and a lanyard, we soon had a long tin affair that we could let down the scupper, where we tied it with the lanyard and left it.
Now, perhaps, every one don’t know that what we call the scupper is a sort of sink, or gulley-hole, by the ship’s side, to let off the water when the decks are washed, or a wave comes aboard; and though it may sound queer to catch rum and water that is sent down a sink-hole, you must understand that well out at sea the deck of a man-of-war is as clean and white as washing and scrubbing can make it—a drop of salt water being the foulest thing that passes down a scupper.
Well, our machine answered first-rate, and though it didn’t catch only half of the stuff thrown down, yet we often got a quart of good grog, and had a pleasant half-hour down the main-deck drinking it.
But things soon turned unpleasant; we had a fresh captain, whom I’ll call Captain Strangeways, and very soon the cat began to be at work. Times were, of course, that men would buy each other’s grog, and have a little more than they should, and then, instead of a mild punishment, and a trial at reforming such men, it was flogging; and instead of this doing any good, it made the men worse, and drunkenness more frequent, till the floggings used to be constant, and instead of our ship being about the smartest afloat, I believe she grew to be one of the most slovenly, and the men took a delight in annoying the captain and officers.
In the very low latitudes, where the heat is sometimes terribly hard to bear, it is the custom to have what we call a windsail, that is a regular great canvas pipe, hung so that one end goes down the hatchways, while the other is tied up to the rigging; and of a hot night the cool current that came down would be delightful. But down on the main-deck, with perhaps four hundred men sleeping, even this would not be enough, and we used to sleep with the ports open. But this displeased the captain; for in other latitudes the custom was to shut the ports down at eight o’clock at night, and he, accordingly, gave orders that this should be kept up; so at eight o’clock one night, watch was set, and all the ports were closed.
Phew! I can almost feel it now. Why, it was stifling. We could hardly breathe; and first one and then another jumped out of his hammock, and opened a port, and then we had no end of palavering, for the men were regularly unanimous over it, that we could not bear the heat; and the consequence was, that we made our arrangements for a bit of a breeze next night.
Eight o’clock came, and we were lying at anchor off Callao. Gun-fire—and then at the order down went the ports, and then all was darkness; but at the next moment, there was the chirping of the whistles of the boatswain’s mates; and so well had the men worked together, and made their plans, that up flew all the ports again directly.
Then the row began; the officers got alongside the captain, the marines were called aft, and then lanterns ranged along the quarter deck, and the men summoned and ranged across in a gang several deep. The captain raged and stormed. He’d flog every man on board, and—
“Crash!” There was a lantern down; some one out of the tops had thrown a big ball of spunyarn of the size of a Dutch cheese, and knocked the light over.
—He’d have the man in irons that threw that ball.
“Crash—crash—crash!” there came a regular volley, and every lantern was knocked off and rolled about the deck.
“Marines! up the rigging, there, into the mizen and main tops!” shouted the captain, “and bring those men down.” When up went the Johnnies, of course, very slowly, for they couldn’t climb a bit, while the men were down the sheets in an instant, and behind the others on deck.
Then the captain had a few words with the first lieutenant, and the men were piped down; and the ports not being touched, all seemed to be pretty quiet, when the officers collected together in the gun-room, and began talking the matter over—some at chess, and some at their grog; but the game was not quite over, for the men were just ripe for a bit of mischief, and fast working themselves up into that state when mutinies take place. All at once, when everything seemed at its quietest, there was a shrill chirrup; and then a number of the biggest shot were set rolling out of their racks right along the deck, as it sloped down towards the gun-room door.
“Rumble—rumble—rumble; bang—crash—crash!” they went, dashing open the door where the officers in dismay were sitting in all positions: with their legs drawn up, or sticking out at right angles, and then came another volley, but this time it was one of laughter, and by the time the sentries had called up the relief, and had the shots replaced in the racks, all was still and quiet, while the next night the captain left the ports untouched.