XXXIII. A DISCOVERY TURNS THE SCALE
In four-and-twenty hours Bob had recovered. But though physicallyhimself again, he was not at all sure of his position as a patriot. Hehad that practical knowledge of seamanship of which the country stoodmuch in need, and it was humiliating to find that impressment seemed tobe necessary to teach him to use it for her advantage. Many neighbouringyoung men, less fortunate than himself, had been pressed and taken; andtheir absence seemed a reproach to him. He went away by himself into themill-roof, and, surrounded by the corn-heaps, gave vent toself-condemnation.
'Certainly, I am no man to lie here so long for the pleasure of sightingthat young girl forty times a day, and letting her sight me--bless hereyes!--till I must needs want a press-gang to teach me what I've forgot.And is it then all over with me as a British sailor? We'll see.'
When he was thrown under the influence of Anne's eyes again, which weremore tantalizingly beautiful than ever just now (so it seemed to him),his intention of offering his services to the Government would waxweaker, and he would put off his final decision till the next day. Annesaw these fluctuations of his mind between love and patriotism, and beingterrified by what she had heard of sea-fights, used the utmost art ofwhich she was capable to seduce him from his forming purpose. She cameto him in the mill, wearing the very prettiest of her morning jackets--theone that only just passed the waist, and was laced so tastefully roundthe collar and bosom. Then she would appear in her new hat, with abouquet of primroses on one side; and on the following Sunday she walkedbefore him in lemon-coloured boots, so that her feet looked like a pairof yellow-hammers flitting under her dress.
But dress was the least of the means she adopted for chaining him down.She talked more tenderly than ever; asked him to begin small undertakingsin the garden on her account; she sang about the house, that the placemight seem cheerful when he came in. This singing for a purpose requiredgreat effort on her part, leaving her afterwards very sad. When Bobasked her what was the matter, she would say, 'Nothing; only I amthinking how you will grieve your father, and cross his purposes, if youcarry out your unkind notion of going to sea, and forsaking your place inthe mill.'
'Yes,' Bob would say uneasily. 'It will trouble him, I know.'
Being also quite aware how it would trouble her, he would again postpone,and thus another week passed away.
All this time John had not come once to the mill. It appeared as if MissJohnson absorbed all his time and thoughts. Bob was often seen chucklingover the circumstance. 'A sly rascal!' he said. 'Pretending on the dayshe came to be married that she was not good enough for me, when it wasonly that he wanted her for himself. How he could have persuaded her togo away is beyond me to say!'
Anne could not contest this belief of her lover's, and remained silent;but there had more than once occurred to her mind a doubt of itsprobability. Yet she had only abandoned her opinion that John hadschemed for Matilda, to embrace the opposite error; that, finding he hadwronged the young lady, he had pitied and grown to love her.
'And yet Jack, when he was a boy, was the simplest fellow alive,' resumedBob. 'By George, though, I should have been hot against him for such atrick, if in losing her I hadn't found a better! But she'll never comedown to him in the world: she has high notions now. I am afraid he'sdoomed to sigh in vain!'
Though Bob regretted this possibility, the feeling was not reciprocatedby Anne. It was true that she knew nothing of Matilda's temporarytreachery, and that she disbelieved the story of her lack of virtue; butshe did not like the woman. 'Perhaps it will not matter if he is doomedto sigh in vain,' she said. 'But I owe him no ill-will. I have profitedby his doings, incomprehensible as they are.' And she bent her fair eyeson Bob and smiled.
Bob looked dubious. 'He thinks he has affronted me, now I have seenthrough him, and that I shall be against meeting him. But, of course, Iam not so touchy. I can stand a practical joke, as can any man who hasbeen afloat. I'll call and see him, and tell him so.'
Before he started, Bob bethought him of something which would stillfurther prove to the misapprehending John that he was entirely forgiven.He went to his room, and took from his chest a packet containing a lockof Miss Johnson's hair, which she had given him during their briefacquaintance, and which till now he had quite forgotten. When, atstarting, he wished Anne goodbye, it was accompanied by such a beamingface, that she knew he was full of an idea, and asked what it might bethat pleased him so.
'Why, this,' he said, smacking his breast-pocket. 'A lock of hair thatMatilda gave me.'
Anne sank back with parted lips.
'I am going to give it to Jack--he'll jump for joy to get it! And itwill show him how willing I am to give her up to him, fine piece as sheis.'
'Will you see her to-day, Bob?' Anne asked with an uncertain smile.
'O no--unless it is by accident.'
On reaching the outskirts of the town he went straight to the barracks,and was lucky enough to find John in his room, at the left-hand corner ofthe quadrangle. John was glad to see him; but to Bob's surprise heshowed no immediate contrition, and thus afforded no room for thebrotherly speech of forgiveness which Bob had been going to deliver. Asthe trumpet-major did not open the subject, Bob felt it desirable tobegin himself.
'I have brought ye something that you will value, Jack,' he said, as theysat at the window, overlooking the large square barrack-yard. 'I havegot no further use for it, and you should have had it before if it hadentered my head.'
'Thank you, Bob; what is it?' said John, looking absently at an awkwardsquad of young men who were drilling in the enclosure.
''Tis a young woman's lock of hair.'
'Ah!' said John, quite recovering from his abstraction, and slightlyflushing. Could Bob and Anne have quarrelled? Bob drew the paper fromhis pocket, and opened it.
'Black!' said John.
'Yes--black enough.'
'Whose?'
'Why, Matilda's.'
'O, Matilda's!'
'Whose did you think then?'
Instead of replying, the trumpet-major's face became as red as sunset,and he turned to the window to hide his confusion.
Bob was silent, and then he, too, looked into the court. At length hearose, walked to his brother, and laid his hand upon his shoulder.'Jack,' he said, in an altered voice, 'you are a good fellow. Now I seeit all.'
'O no--that's nothing,' said John hastily.
'You've been pretending that you care for this woman that I mightn'tblame myself for heaving you out from the other--which is what I've donewithout knowing it.'
'What does it matter?'
'But it does matter! I've been making you unhappy all these weeks andweeks through my thoughtlessness. They seemed to think at home, youknow, John, that you had grown not to care for her; or I wouldn't havedone it for all the world!'
'You stick to her, Bob, and never mind me. She belongs to you. Sheloves you. I have no claim upon her, and she thinks nothing about me.'
'She likes you, John, thoroughly well; so does everybody; and if I hadn'tcome home, putting my foot in it-- That coming home of mine has been aregular blight upon the family! I ought never to have stayed. The seais my home, and why couldn't I bide there?'
The trumpet-major drew Bob's discourse off the subject as soon as hecould, and Bob, after some unconsidered replies and remarks, seemedwilling to avoid it for the present. He did not ask John to accompanyhim home, as he had intended; and on leaving the barracks turnedsouthward and entered the town to wander about till he could decide whatto do.
It was the 3rd of September, but the King's watering-place still retainedits summer aspect. The royal bathing-machine had been drawn out just asBob reached Gloucester Buildings, and he waited a minute, in the lack ofother distraction, to look on. Immediately that the King's machine hadentered the water a group of florid men with fiddles, violoncellos, atrombone, and a drum, came forward, packed themselves into anothermachine that was in waiting, and were dra
wn out into the waves in theKing's rear. All that was to be heard for a few minutes were the slowpulsations of the sea; and then a deafening noise burst from the interiorof the second machine with power enough to split the boards asunder; itwas the condensed mass of musicians inside, striking up the strains of'God save the King,' as his Majesty's head rose from the water. Bob tookoff his hat and waited till the end of the performance, which, intendedas a pleasant surprise to George III. by the loyal burghers, was possiblyin the watery circumstances tolerated rather than desired by thatdripping monarch. {303}
Loveday then passed on to the harbour, where he remained awhile, lookingat the busy scene of loading and unloading craft and swabbing the decksof yachts; at the boats and barges rubbing against the quay wall, and atthe houses of the merchants, some ancient structures of solid stone,others green-shuttered with heavy wooden bow-windows which appeared as ifabout to drop into the harbour by their own weight. All these things hegazed upon, and thought of one thing--that he had caused great misery tohis brother John.
The town clock struck, and Bob retraced his steps till he againapproached the Esplanade and Gloucester Lodge, where the morning sunblazed in upon the house fronts, and not a spot of shade seemed to beattainable. A huzzaing attracted his attention, and he observed that anumber of people had gathered before the King's residence, where a browncurricle had stopped, out of which stepped a hale man in the prime oflife, wearing a blue uniform, gilt epaulettes, cocked hat, and sword, whocrossed the pavement and went in. Bob went up and joined the group.'What's going on?' he said.
'Captain Hardy,' replied a bystander.
'What of him?'
'Just gone in--waiting to see the King.'
'But the captain is in the West Indies?'
'No. The fleet is come home; they can't find the French anywhere.'
'Will they go and look for them again?' asked Bob.
'O yes. Nelson is determined to find 'em. As soon as he's refittedhe'll put to sea again. Ah, here's the King coming in.'
Bob was so interested in what he had just heard that he scarcely noticedthe arrival of the King, and a body of attendant gentlemen. He went onthinking of his new knowledge; Captain Hardy was come. He was doubtlessstaying with his family at their small manor-house at Pos'ham, a fewmiles from Overcombe, where he usually spent the intervals between hisdifferent cruises.
Loveday returned to the mill without further delay; and shortlyexplaining that John was very well, and would come soon, went on to talkof the arrival of Nelson's captain.
'And is he come at last?' said the miller, throwing his thoughts yearsbackward. 'Well can I mind when he first left home to go on board theHelena as midshipman!'
'That's not much to remember. I can remember it too,' said Mrs. Loveday.
''Tis more than twenty years ago anyhow. And more than that, I can mindwhen he was born; I was a lad, serving my 'prenticeship at the time. Hehas been in this house often and often when 'a was young. When he camehome after his first voyage he stayed about here a long time, and used tolook in at the mill whenever he went past. "What will you be next, sir?"said mother to him one day as he stood with his back to the doorpost. "Alieutenant, Dame Loveday," says he. "And what next?" says she. "Acommander." "And next?" "Next, post-captain." "And then?" "Then itwill be almost time to die." I'd warrant that he'd mind it to this veryday if you were to ask him.'
Bob heard all this with a manner of preoccupation, and soon retired tothe mill. Thence he went to his room by the back passage, and taking hisold seafaring garments from a dark closet in the wall conveyed them tothe loft at the top of the mill, where he occupied the remaining sparemoments of the day in brushing the mildew from their folds, and hangingeach article by the window to get aired. In the evening he returned tothe loft, and dressing himself in the old salt suit, went out of thehouse unobserved by anybody, and ascended the road towards CaptainHardy's native village and present temporary home.
The shadeless downs were now brown with the droughts of the passingsummer, and few living things met his view, the natural rotundity of theelevation being only occasionally disturbed by the presence of a barrow,a thorn-bush, or a piece of dry wall which remained from some attemptedenclosure. By the time that he reached the village it was dark, and thelarger stars had begun to shine when he walked up to the door of the old-fashioned house which was the family residence of this branch of theSouth-Wessex Hardys.
'Will the captain allow me to wait on him to-night?' inquired Loveday,explaining who and what he was.
The servant went away for a few minutes, and then told Bob that he mightsee the captain in the morning.
'If that's the case, I'll come again,' replied Bob, quite cheerful thatfailure was not absolute.
He had left the door but a few steps when he was called back and asked ifhe had walked all the way from Overcombe Mill on purpose.
Loveday replied modestly that he had done so.
'Then will you come in?' He followed the speaker into a small study oroffice, and in a minute or two Captain Hardy entered.
The captain at this time was a bachelor of thirty-five, rather stout inbuild, with light eyes, bushy eyebrows, a square broad face, plenty ofchin, and a mouth whose corners played between humour and grimness. Hesurveyed Loveday from top to toe.
'Robert Loveday, sir, son of the miller at Overcombe,' said Bob, making alow bow.
'Ah! I remember your father, Loveday,' the gallant seaman replied.'Well, what do you want to say to me?' Seeing that Bob found it ratherdifficult to begin, he leant leisurely against the mantelpiece, and wenton, 'Is your father well and hearty? I have not seen him for many, manyyears.'
'Quite well, thank 'ee.'
'You used to have a brother in the army, I think? What was hisname--John? A very fine fellow, if I recollect.'
'Yes, cap'n; he's there still.'
'And you are in the merchant-service?'
'Late first mate of the brig Pewit.'
'How is it you're not on board a man-of-war?'
'Ay, sir, that's the thing I've come about,' said Bob, recoveringconfidence. 'I should have been, but 'tis womankind has hampered me.I've waited and waited on at home because of a young woman--lady, I mighthave said, for she's sprung from a higher class of society than I. Herfather was a landscape painter--maybe you've heard of him, sir? The nameis Garland.'
'He painted that view of our village here,' said Captain Hardy, lookingtowards a dark little picture in the corner of the room.
Bob looked, and went on, as if to the picture, 'Well, sir, I have foundthat-- However, the press-gang came a week or two ago, and didn't gethold of me. I didn't care to go aboard as a pressed man.'
'There has been a severe impressment. It is of course a disagreeablenecessity, but it can't be helped.'
'Since then, sir, something has happened that makes me wish they hadfound me, and I have come to-night to ask if I could enter on board yourship the Victory.'
The captain shook his head severely, and presently observed: 'I am gladto find that you think of entering the service, Loveday; smart men arebadly wanted. But it will not be in your power to choose your ship.'
'Well, well, sir; then I must take my chance elsewhere,' said Bob, hisface indicating the disappointment he would not fully express. ''Twasonly that I felt I would much rather serve under you than anybody else,my father and all of us being known to ye, Captain Hardy, and ourfamilies belonging to the same parts.'
Captain Hardy took Bob's altitude more carefully. 'Are you a goodpractical seaman?' he asked musingly.
'Ay, sir; I believe I am.'
'Active? Fond of skylarking?'
'Well, I don't know about the last. I think I can say I am activeenough. I could walk the yard-arm, if required, cross from mast to mastby the stays, and do what most fellows do who call themselves spry.'
The captain then put some questions about the details of navigation,which Loveday, having luckily been used to square rigs, answeredsatisfactor
ily. 'As to reefing topsails,' he added, 'if I don't do itlike a flash of lightning, I can do it so that they will stand blowingweather. The Pewit was not a dull vessel, and when we were convoyed homefrom Lisbon, she could keep well in sight of the frigate scudding at adistance, by putting on full sail. We had enough hands aboard to reeftopsails man-o'-war fashion, which is a rare thing in these days, sir,now that able seamen are so scarce on trading craft. And I hear that menfrom square-rigged vessels are liked much the best in the navy, as beingmore ready for use? So that I shouldn't be altogether so raw,' said Bobearnestly, 'if I could enter on your ship, sir. Still, if I can't, Ican't.'
'I might ask for you, Loveday,' said the captain thoughtfully, 'and soget you there that way. In short, I think I may say I will ask for you.So consider it settled.'
'My thanks to you, sir,' said Loveday.
'You are aware that the Victory is a smart ship, and that cleanliness andorder are, of necessity, more strictly insisted upon there than in someothers?'
'Sir, I quite see it.'
'Well, I hope you will do your duty as well on a line-of-battle ship asyou did when mate of the brig, for it is a duty that may be serious.'
Bob replied that it should be his one endeavour; and receiving a fewinstructions for getting on board the guard-ship, and being conveyed toPortsmouth, he turned to go away.
'You'll have a stiff walk before you fetch Overcombe Mill this darknight, Loveday,' concluded the captain, peering out of the window. 'I'llsend you in a glass of grog to help 'ee on your way.'
The captain then left Bob to himself, and when he had drunk the grog thatwas brought in he started homeward, with a heart not exactly light, butlarge with a patriotic cheerfulness, which had not diminished when, afterwalking so fast in his excitement as to be beaded with perspiration, heentered his father's door.
They were all sitting up for him, and at his approach anxiously raisedtheir sleepy eyes, for it was nearly eleven o'clock.
'There; I knew he'd not be much longer!' cried Anne, jumping up andlaughing, in her relief. 'They have been thinking you were very strangeand silent to-day, Bob; you were not, were you?'
'What's the matter, Bob?' said the miller; for Bob's countenance wassublimed by his recent interview, like that of a priest just come fromthe penetralia of the temple.
'He's in his mate's clothes, just as when he came home!' observed Mrs.Loveday.
They all saw now that he had something to tell. 'I am going away,' hesaid when he had sat down. 'I am going to enter on board a man-of-war,and perhaps it will be the Victory.'
'Going?' said Anne faintly.
'Now, don't you mind it, there's a dear,' he went on solemnly, taking herhand in his own. 'And you, father, don't you begin to take it to heart'(the miller was looking grave). 'The press-gang has been here, andthough I showed them that I was a free man, I am going to show everybodythat I can do my duty.'
Neither of the other three answered, Anne and the miller having theireyes bent upon the ground, and the former trying to repress her tears.
'Now don't you grieve, either of you,' he continued; 'nor vex yourselvesthat this has happened. Please not to be angry with me, father, fordeserting you and the mill, where you want me, for I _must go_. Forthese three years we and the rest of the country have been in fear of theenemy; trade has been hindered; poor folk made hungry; and many rich folkmade poor. There must be a deliverance, and it must be done by sea. Ihave seen Captain Hardy, and I shall serve under him if so be I can.'
'Captain Hardy?'
'Yes. I have been to his house at Pos'ham, where he's staying with hissisters; walked there and back, and I wouldn't have missed it for fiftyguineas. I hardly thought he would see me; but he did see me. And hehasn't forgot you.'
Bob then opened his tale in order, relating graphically the conversationto which he had been a party, and they listened with breathlessattention.
'Well, if you must go, you must,' said the miller with emotion; 'but Ithink it somewhat hard that, of my two sons, neither one of 'em can begot to stay and help me in my business as I get old.'
'Don't trouble and vex about it,' said Mrs. Loveday soothingly. 'Theyare both instruments in the hands of Providence, chosen to chastise thatCorsican ogre, and do what they can for the country in these tryingyears.'
'That's just the shape of it, Mrs. Loveday,' said Bob.
'And he'll come back soon,' she continued, turning to Anne. 'And thenhe'll tell us all he has seen, and the glory that he's won, and how hehas helped to sweep that scourge Buonaparty off the earth.'
'When be you going, Bob?' his father inquired.
'To-morrow, if I can. I shall call at the barracks and tell John as I goby. When I get to Portsmouth--'
A burst of sobs in quick succession interrupted his words; they came fromAnne, who till that moment had been sitting as before with her hand inthat of Bob, and apparently quite calm. Mrs. Loveday jumped up, butbefore she could say anything to soothe the agitated girl she had calmedherself with the same singular suddenness that had marked her giving way.'I don't mind Bob's going,' she said. 'I think he ought to go. Don'tsuppose, Bob, that I want you to stay!'
After this she left the apartment, and went into the little side roomwhere she and her mother usually worked. In a few moments Bob followedher. When he came back he was in a very sad and emotional mood. Anybodycould see that there had been a parting of profound anguish to both.
'She is not coming back to-night,' he said.
'You will see her to-morrow before you go?' said her mother.
'I may or I may not,' he replied. 'Father and Mrs. Loveday, do you go tobed now. I have got to look over my things and get ready; and it willtake me some little time. If you should hear noises you will know it isonly myself moving about.'
When Bob was left alone he suddenly became brisk, and set himself tooverhaul his clothes and other possessions in a business-like manner. Bythe time that his chest was packed, such things as he meant to leave athome folded into cupboards, and what was useless destroyed, it was pasttwo o'clock. Then he went to bed, so softly that only the creak of oneweak stair revealed his passage upward. At the moment that he passedAnne's chamber-door her mother was bending over her as she lay in bed,and saying to her, 'Won't you see him in the morning?'
'No, no,' said Anne. 'I would rather not see him! I have said that Imay. But I shall not. I cannot see him again!'
When the family got up next day Bob had vanished. It was his way todisappear like this, to avoid affecting scenes at parting. By the timethat they had sat down to a gloomy breakfast, Bob was in the boat of aBudmouth waterman, who pulled him alongside the guardship in the roads,where he laid hold of the man-rope, mounted, and disappeared fromexternal view. In the course of the day the ship moved off, set herroyals, and made sail for Portsmouth, with five hundred new hands for theservice on board, consisting partly of pressed men and partly ofvolunteers, among the latter being Robert Loveday.