XIII. A TRAVELLER'S TALES.
"The mermaid sat upon the rocks All day long, Admiring her beauty and combing her locks, And singing a mermaid song.
"And hear the mermaid's song you may, As sure as sure can be, If you will but follow the sun all day, And souse with him into the sea." --W. S. LANDOR.
It was perhaps four or five days after the events mentioned in thelast chapter, that one evening, as Mary stood lost in reverie at thewindow, she saw Will Wilson enter the court, and come quickly up toher door. She was glad to see him, for he had always been a friendof hers, perhaps too much like her in character ever to becomeanything nearer or dearer. She opened the door in readiness toreceive his frank greeting, which she as frankly returned.
"Come, Mary! on with bonnet and shawl, or whatever rigging you womenrequire before leaving the house. I'm sent to fetch you, and Ican't lose time when I'm under orders."
"Where am I to go to?" asked Mary, as her heart leaped up at thethought of who might be waiting for her.
"Not very far," replied he. "Only to old Job Legh's round thecorner there. Aunt would have me come and see these new friends ofhers, and then we meant to ha' come on here to see you and yourfather, but the old gentleman seems inclined to make a night of it,and have you all there. Where is your father? I want to see him.He must come too."
"He's out, but I'll leave word next door for him to follow me;that's to say, if he comes home afore long." She addedhesitatingly, "Is any one else at Job's?"
"No! My aunt Jane would not come, for some maggot or other; and asfor Jem! I don't know what you've all been doing to him, but he'sas down-hearted a chap as I'd wish to see. He's had his sorrowssure enough, poor lad! But it's time for him to be shaking off hisdull looks, and not go moping like a girl."
"Then he's come fra' Halifax, is he?" asked Mary.
"Yes! his body's come, but I think he's left his heart behind him.His tongue I'm sure he has, as we used to say to childer, when theywould not speak. I try to rouse him up a bit, and I think he likeshaving me with him, but still he's as gloomy and as dull as can be.'T was only yesterday he took me to the works, and you'd ha' thoughtus two Quakers as the spirit hadn't moved, all the way down we wereso mum. It's a place to craze a man, certainly; such a noisy blackhole! There were one or two things worth looking at, the bellowsfor instance, or the gale they called a bellows. I could ha' stoodnear it a whole day; and if I'd a berth in that place, I should liketo be bellows-man, if there is such a one. But Jem weren't divertedeven with that; he stood as grave as a judge while it blew my hatout o' my hand. He's lost all relish for his food, too, which fretsmy aunt sadly. Come! Mary, aren't you ready?"
She had not been able to gather if she were to see Jem at JobLegh's; but when the door was opened, she at once saw and felt hewas not there. The evening then would be a blank; at least so shethought for the first five minutes; but she soon forgot herdisappointment in the cheerful meeting of old friends, all, exceptherself, with some cause for rejoicing at that very time. Margaret,who could not be idle, was knitting away, with her face looking fullinto the room, away from her work. Alice sat meek and patient withher dimmed eyes and gentle look, trying to see and to hear, butnever complaining; indeed, in her inner self she was blessing Godfor her happiness; for the joy of having her nephew, her child, nearher, was far more present to her mind, than her deprivations ofsight and hearing.
Job was in the full glory of host and hostess too, for by a tacitagreement he had roused himself from his habitual abstraction, andhad assumed many of Margaret's little household duties. While hemoved about he was deep in conversation with the young sailor,trying to extract from him any circumstances connected with thenatural history of the different countries he had visited.
"Oh! if you are fond of grubs, and flies, and beetles, there's noplace for 'em like Sierra Leone. I wish you'd had some of ours; wehad rather too much of a good thing; we drank them with our drink,and could scarcely keep from eating them with our food. I neverthought any folk could care for such fat green beasts as those, or Iwould ha' brought you them by the thousand. A plate full o' peassoup would ha' been full enough for you, I dare say; it were oftentoo full for us."
"I would ha' given a good deal for some on 'em," said Job.
"Well, I knew folk at home liked some o' the queer things one meetswith abroad; but I never thought they'd care for them nasty slimythings. I were always on the look-out for a mermaid, for that, Iknew, were a curiosity."
"You might ha' looked long enough," said Job, in an undertone ofcontempt, which, however, the quick ears of the sailor caught.
"Not so long, master, in some latitudes, as you think. It stands toreason th' sea hereabouts is too cold for mermaids; for women heredon't go half naked on account o' climate. But I've been in landswhere muslin were too hot to wear on land, and where the sea weremore than milk-warm; and though I'd never the good luck to see amermaid in that latitude, I know them that has."
"Do tell us about it," cried Mary.
"Pooh, pooh!" said Job, the naturalist.
Both speeches determined Will to go on with his story. What could afellow who had never been many miles from home know about thewonders of the deep, that he should put him down in that way?
"Well, it were Jack Harris, our third mate last voyage, as many andmany a time telled us all about it. You see he were becalmed offChatham Island (that's in the Great Pacific, and a warm enoughlatitude for mermaids, and sharks, and such like perils). So someof the men took the long-boat, and pulled for the island to see whatit were like; and when they got near, they heard a puffing, like acreature come up to take breath; you've never heard a diver? No!Well; you've heard folks in th' asthma, and it were for all theworld like that. So they looked around, and what should they seebut a mermaid, sitting on a rock, and sunning herself. The water isalways warmer when it's rough, you know, so I suppose in the calmshe felt it rather chilly, and had come up to warm herself."
"What was she like?" asked Mary breathlessly.
Job took his pipe off the chimney-piece, and began to smoke withvery audible puffs, as if the story were not worth listening to.
"Oh! Jack used to say she was for all the world as beautiful as anyof the wax ladies in the barbers' shops; only, Mary, there were onelittle difference; her hair was bright grass-green."
"I should not think that was pretty," said Mary hesitatingly; as ifnot liking to doubt the perfection of anything belonging to such anacknowledged beauty.
"Oh! but it is when you're used to it. I always think when first weget sight of land, there's no colour so lovely as grass-green.However, she had green hair sure enough: and were proud enough ofit, too; for she were combing it out full length when first they sawher. They all thought she were a fair prize, and maybe as good as awhale in ready money (they were whale-fishers, you know). For somefolk think a deal of mermaids, whatever other folk do." This was ahit at Job, who retaliated in a series of sonorous spittings andpuffs.
"So, as I were saying, they pulled towards her, thinking to catchher. She were all the while combing her beautiful hair, andbeckoning to them, while with the other hand she held alooking-glass."
"How many hands had she?" asked Job.
"Two, to be sure, just like any other woman," answered Willindignantly.
"Oh! I thought you said she beckoned with one hand, and combed herhair with another, and held a looking-glass with her third," saidJob, with provoking quietness.
"No! I didn't! at least, if I did, I meant she did one thing afteranother, as anyone but" (here he mumbled a word or two) "couldunderstand. Well, Mary," turning very decidedly towards her, "whenshe saw them coming near, whether it were she grew frightened attheir fowling-pieces, as they had on board for a bit o' shooting onthe island, or whether it were she were just a fickle jade as didnot rightly know her own mind (which, seeing one half of her waswoman, I think myself was
most probably), but when they were onlyabout two oars' length from the rock where she sat, down she ploppedinto the water, leaving nothing but her hinder end of a fish tailsticking up for a minute, and then that disappeared too."
"And did they never see her again?" asked Mary.
"Never so plain; the man who had the second watch one night declaredhe saw her swimming round the ship, and holding up her glass for himto look in; and then he saw the little cottage near Aber in Wales(where his wife lived) as plain as ever he saw it in life, and hiswife standing outside, shading her eyes as if she were looking forhim. But Jack Harris gave him no credit, for he said he were alwaysa bit of a romancer, and beside that, were a home-sick, down-heartedchap."
"I wish they had caught her," said Mary, musing.
"They got one thing as belonged to her," replied Will, "and thatI've often seen with my own eyes, and I reckon it's a sure proof ofthe truth of their story, for them that wants proof."
"What was it?" asked Margaret, almost anxious her grandfather shouldbe convinced.
"Why, in her hurry she left her comb on the rock, and one o' the menspied it; so they thought that were better than nothing, and theyrowed there and took it, and Jack Harris had it on board the JohnCropper, and I saw him comb his hair with it every Sunday morning."
"What was it like?" asked Mary eagerly; her imagination running oncoral combs, studded with pearls.
"Why, if it had not had such a strange yarn belonging to it, you'dnever ha' noticed it from any other small-tooth comb."
"I should rather think not," sneered Job Legh.
The sailor bit his lips to keep down his anger against an old man.Margaret felt very uneasy, knowing her grandfather so well, and notdaring to guess what caustic remark might come next to irritate theyoung sailor guest.
Mary, however, was too much interested by the wonders of the deep toperceive the incredulity with which Job Legh received Wilson'saccount of the mermaid, and when he left off, half offended, andvery much inclined not to open his lips again through the evening,she eagerly said--
"Oh, do tell us something more of what you hear and see on boardship. Do, Will!"
"What's the use, Mary, if folk won't believe one. There are thingsI saw with my own eyes, that some people would pish and pshaw at, asif I were a baby to be put down by cross noises. But I'll tell you,Mary," with an emphasis on YOU, "some more of the wonders of thesea, sin' you're not too wise to believe me. I have seen a fishfly."
This did stagger Mary. She had heard of mermaids as signs of innsand as sea-wonders, but never of flying fish. Not so Job. He putdown his pipe, and nodding his head as a token of approbation, hesaid--
"Ay! ay! young man. Now you're speaking truth."
"Well, now, you'll swallow that, old gentleman. You'll credit mewhen I say I've seen a critter half fish, half bird, and you won'tcredit me when I say there be such beasts as mermaids, half fish,half woman. To me, one's just as strange as t'other."
"You never saw the mermaid yoursel," interposed Margaret gently.But "love me, love my dog," was Will Wilson's motto, only hisversion was, "Believe me, believe Jack Harris"; and the remark wasnot so soothing to him as it was intended to have been.
"It's the Exocetus; one of the Malacopterygii Abdominales," saidJob, much interested.
"Ay, there you go! you're one o' them folks as never knows beastsunless they're called out o' their names. Put 'em in Sundayclothes, and you know 'em, but in their work-a-day English you neverknow nought about 'em. I've met wi' many o' your kidney; and if I'dha' known it, I'd ha' christened poor Jack's mermaid wi' some grandgibberish of a name. Mermaidicus Jack Harrisensis; that's just liketheir new-fangled words. D'ye believe there's such a thing as theMermaidicus, master?" asked Will, enjoying his own joke uncommonly,as most people do.
"Not I! tell me about the"--
"Well!" said Will, pleased at having excited the old gentleman'sfaith and credit at last, "it were on this last voyage, about aday's sail from Madeira, that one of our men"--
"Not Jack Harris, I hope," murmured Job.
"Called me," continued Will, not noticing the interruption, "to seethe what d'ye call it--flying fish I say it is. It were twenty feetout o' water, and it flew near on to a hundred yards. But I say,old gentleman, I ha' gotten one dried, and if you'll take it, why,I'll give it you; only," he added, in a lower tone, "I wish you'djust gie me credit for the Mermaidicus."
I really believe, if the assuming faith in the story of the mermaidhad been made the condition of receiving the flying fish, Job Legh,sincere man as he was, would have pretended belief; he was so muchdelighted at the idea of possessing this specimen. He won thesailor's heart by getting up to shake both his hands in his vehementgratitude, puzzling poor old Alice, who yet smiled through herwonder; for she understood the action to indicate some kindlyfeeling towards her nephew.
Job wanted to prove his gratitude, and was puzzled how to do it. Hefeared the young man would not appreciate any of his duplicateAraneides; not even the great American Mygale, one of his mostprecious treasures; or else he would gladly have bestowed anyduplicate on the donor of a real dried Exocetus. What could he dofor him? He could ask Margaret to sing. Other folks beside her olddoting grandfather thought a deal of her songs. So Margaret begansome of her noble old-fashioned songs. She knew no modern music(for which her auditors might have been thankful), but she pouredher rich voice out in some of the old canzonets she had latelylearnt while accompanying the musical lecturer on his tour.
Mary was amused to see how the young sailor sat entranced; mouth,eyes, all open, in order to catch every breath of sound. His verylids refused to wink, as if afraid in that brief proverbial intervalto lose a particle of the rich music that floated through the room.For the first time the idea crossed Mary's mind that it was possiblethe plain little sensible Margaret, so prim and demure, might havepower over the heart of the handsome, dashing spirited Will Wilson.
Job, too, was rapidly changing his opinion of his new guest. Theflying fish went a great way, and his undisguised admiration forMargaret's singing carried him still further.
It was amusing enough to see these two, within the hour so barelycivil to each other, endeavouring now to be ultra-agreeable. Will,as soon as he had taken breath (a long, deep gasp of admiration)after Margaret's song, sidled up to Job, and asked him in a sort ofdoubting tone--
"You wouldn't like a live Manx cat, would ye, master?"
"A what?" exclaimed Job.
"I don't know its best name," said Will humbly. "But we call 'emjust Manx cats. They're cats without tails."
Now Job, in all his natural history, had never heard of suchanimals; so Will continued--
"Because I'm going, afore joining my ship, to see mother's friendsin the island, and would gladly bring you one, if so be you'd liketo have it. They look as queer and out o' nature as flying fish,or"--he gulped the words down that should have followed."Especially when you see 'em walking a roof-top, right again thesky, when a cat, as is a proper cat, is sure to stick her tail stiffout behind, like a slack-rope dancer a-balancing; but these catshaving no tail, cannot stick it out, which captivates some peopleuncommonly. If yo'll allow me, I'll bring one for Miss there,"jerking his head at Margaret. Job assented with grateful curiosity,wishing much to see the tailless phenomenon.
"When are you going to sail?" asked Mary.
"I cannot justly say; our ship's bound for America next voyage, theytell me. A messmate will let me know when her sailing-day is fixed;but I've got to go to th' Isle o' Man first. I promised uncle lasttime I were in England to go this next time. I may have to hoistthe blue Peter any day; so, make much of me while you have me,Mary."
Job asked him if he had been in America.
"Haven't I! North and South both! This time we're bound to North.Yankee-Land as we call it, where Uncle Sam lives."
"Uncle who?" said Mary.
"Oh, it's a way sailors have of speaking. I only mean I'm going toBoston, U.S., that's Uncle Sa
m."
Mary did not understand, so she left him and went to sit by Alice,who could not hear conversation unless expressly addressed to her.She had sat patiently silent the greater part of the night, and nowgreeted Mary with a quiet smile.
"Where's yo'r father?" asked she.
"I guess he's at his Union! he's there most evenings."
Alice shook her head; but whether it were that she did not hear, orthat she did not quite approve of what she heard, Mary could notmake out. She sat silently watching Alice, and regretting over herdimmed and veiled eyes, formerly so bright and speaking. As ifAlice understood by some other sense what was passing in Mary'smind, she turned suddenly round, and answered Mary's thought.
"Yo're mourning for me, my dear? and there's no need, Mary. I'm ashappy as a child. I sometimes think I am a child, whom the Lord ishushabying to my long sleep. For when I were a nurse-girl, mymissis always telled me to speak very soft and low, and to darkenthe room that her little one might go to sleep; and now all noisesare hushed and still to me, and the bonny earth seems dim and dark,and I know it's my Father lulling me away to my long sleep. I'mvery well content; and yo mustn't fret for me. I've had well-nighevery blessing in life I could desire."
Mary thought of Alice's long-cherished, fond wish to revisit thehome of her childhood, so often and often deferred, and now probablynever to take place. Or if it did, how changed from the fondanticipation of what it was to have been! It would be a mockery tothe blind and deaf Alice.
The evening came quickly to an end. There was the humble cheerfulmeal, and then the bustling, merry farewell, and Mary was once morein the quietness and solitude of her own dingy, dreary-looking home;her father still out, the fire extinguished, and her evening's taskof work lying all undone upon the dresser. But it had been apleasant little interlude to think upon. It had distracted herattention for a few hours from the pressure of many uneasy thoughts,of the dark, heavy, oppressive times, when sorrow and want seemed tosurround her on every side; of her father, his changed and alteredlooks, telling so plainly of broken health, and an embittered heart;of the morrow, and the morrow beyond that, to be spent in that closemonotonous workroom, with Sally Leadbitter's odious whispers hissingin her ear; and of the hunted look, so full of dread, from MissSimmonds' door-step up and down the street, lest her persecutinglover should be near; for he lay in wait for her with wonderfulperseverance, and of late had made himself almost hateful, by theunmanly force which he had used to detain her to listen to him, andthe indifference with which he exposed her to the remarks of thepassers-by, any one of whom might circulate reports which it wouldbe terrible for her father to hear--and worse than death should theyreach Jem Wilson. And all this she had drawn upon herself by hergiddy flirting. Oh! how she loathed the recollection of the hotsummer evening, when, worn out by stitching and sewing, she hadloitered homewards with weary languor, and first listened to thevoice of the tempter.
And Jem Wilson! O Jem, Jem, why did you not come to receive some ofthe modest looks and words of love which Mary longed to give you, totry and make up for the hasty rejection which you as hastily took tobe final, though both mourned over it with many tears. But dayafter day passed away, and patience seemed of no avail; and Mary'scry was ever the old moan of the Moated Grange--
"'Why comes he not?' she said, 'I am aweary, aweary. I would that I were dead.'"