CHAPTER III
THE "SOCIETY" OF LYNN
It was about seven o'clock in the evening of early April, at the goingdown of the sun that I was at last able to drop into the dingy and goashore. All day and all night and all the day before we had beenbeating through the shallows of the Wash and the narrow channel of theOuse. We had laid her to her moorings off the Common Stath and madeall taut and trim: the captain had gone ashore with the papers: thecustomhouse officer had been aboard: we were to begin breaking cargoon the morrow. The ship was _The Lady of Lynn_, 380 tons, RobertJaggard, master marines, being captain, and I the mate or chiefofficer. There was no better skipper in the port of Lynn than CaptainJaggard: there was no better crew than that aboard _The Lady of Lynn_,not a skulker or a lubber in the whole ship's company; and though Isay it myself, I dare affirm that the mate did credit to his ship asmuch as the captain and the crew. We were in the Lisbon trade: we hadtherefore come home laden with casks of the rich strong wine of thecountry: the Port and Lisbon Sherry and Malaga, besides Madeira andthe wine of Teneriffe and the Grand Canary. Our people of theMarshland and the Fens and those of Lincolnshire and Norfolk where thestrong air of the east winds kill all but the stoutest, cannot havetoo much of this rich wine: they will not drink the lighter wines ofBordeaux which neither fire the blood nor mount to the head. Aprosperous voyage we had made: the Bay of Biscay suffered us to crosswith no more than half a gale: _The Lady of Lynn_, in fact, was knownin port to be a lucky ship--as lucky as her owner--lucky in hervoyages and lucky in her cargoes.
At the stairs of the Common Stath Yard I made fast the painter andshipped the sculls. And there, waiting for me, was none other than mygood old friend and patron, Captain Crowle.
The captain was by this time well advanced in life, being upwards ofseventy: yet he showed little touch of time: his honest face beingstill round and full; his eyes still free from lines and crows'-feet;his cheek ruddy and freckled, as if with the salt sea breeze and thedriving spray. He was also as upright as any man of thirty and walkedwith as firm a step and had no need of the stout stick which hecarried in his hand, as a weapon and a cudgel for the unrighteous,more than a staff for the bending knees of old age.
"What cheer--ahoy?" He shouted from the quay as I dropped over theside into the dingy. "What cheer, Jack?" he repeated when I ran up thesteps. "I've seen the skipper. Come with me to the _Crown_"--but theproper place for mates was the _Duke's Head_. "Nay, it shall be the_Crown_. A bowl of punch shall welcome back _The Lady of Lynn_." Heturned and looked at the ship lying in the river at her moorings amongthe other craft. "She's as fine a vessel as this old port canshow--and she's named after as fine a maid. Shalt see her to-morrow,Jack, but not to-night."
"I trust, sir, that she is well and in good spirits."
"Ay--ay. Nothing ails her--nothing ails her, Jack," he pointed withhis stick. "Look how she flourishes. There are fifteen tall shipsmoored two and two off the King's Stath and half a dozen more off theCommon Stath. Count them, Jack. Six of these ships belong to thelittle maid. Six of them--and two more are afloat, of which one ishomeward bound and should be in port soon if all goes well. Eightnoble ships, Jack, are hers. And the income of nigh upon eighteenyears and houses and broad lands."
"She has a prudent guardian, captain."
"May be--may be. I don't deny, Jack, but I've done the best I could.Year after year, the money mounteth up more and more. You love her,Jack, and therefore I tell you these things. And you can keep counsel.I talk not in the market place. No one knows her wealth but you andme. They think that I am part owner. I let them think so, but you andI know better, Jack." He nodded his head looking mighty cunning.
"She cannot be too wealthy or too prosperous, captain. I knew fullwell that her prosperity only increases the gulf between us, but I hadlong ago understood that such an heiress was not for a mate on board amerchantman."
"She is not, Jack," the captain replied, gravely. "Already she is therichest heiress in all Norfolk--perhaps in the whole country. Who isto marry her? There, I confess, I am at a loss. I must find a husbandfor her. There's the rub. She may marry any in the land: there is noneso high but he would desire a wife so rich and so virtuous. Whereshall I look for a husband fit for her? There are admirals, but mostlytoo old for her: she ought to have a noble lord, yet, if all tales betrue, they are not fit, most of them to marry a virtuous woman. ShallI give Molly to a man who gambles and drinks and rakes and riots? No,Jack, no. Not for twenty coronets. I would rather marry her to anhonest sailor like yourself. Jack, my lad, find me a noble lord, aslike yourself as one pea is like another, and he shall have her. Hemust be as proper a man; as strong a man; a clean liver; moderate inhis cups ... find him for me, Jack, and he shall have her."
"Well, but, captain, there are the gentlemen of Norfolk."
"Ay.... There are--as you say--the gentlemen. I have considered them,Jack. Molly is not a gentlewoman by birth, I know that very well: buther fortune entitles her to marry in a higher rank. Ay ... there arethe gentlemen. They are good fox hunters: they are good at horseracing, but they are hard drinkers, Jack: they are fuddled mostevenings: my little maid must not have a husband who is put to beddrunk every night."
"You must take her to London, captain, and let her be seen."
"Ay--ay ... if I only knew where to go and how to begin."
"She is young; there is no need for hurry: you can wait awhile,captain."
"Ay ... we can wait a while. I shall be loth to let her go, Godknows---- Come to-morrow, Jack. She was always fond of you: she talksabout you: 'tis a loving little maid: you played with her and ranabout with her. She never forgets. The next command that falls in--butI talk too fast. Well--when there is a ship in her fleet without acaptain---- But come, my lad."
He led the way, still talking of his ward and her perfections, throughthe narrow street they call Stath Lane into the great market place,where stands the Crown Inn.
The room appropriated to the "Society of Lynn," which met everyevening all the year round, was that on the ground floor looking uponthe market place. The "society," or club, which is never dissolved,consists of the notables or better sort of the town: the vicar of St.Margaret's; the curate of St. Nicholas; the master of the school--myown father: Captain Crowle and other retired captains; the doctor;some of the more substantial merchants; with the mayor, some of thealdermen, the town clerk, and a justice of the peace or two. Thisevening most of these gentlemen were already present.
Captain Crowle saluted the company and took his seat at the head ofthe table. "Gentlemen," he said, "I wish you all a pleasant evening. Ihave brought with me my young friend Jack Pentecrosse--you all knowJack--the worthy son of his worthy father. He will take a glass withus. Sit down beside me, Jack."
"With the permission of the society," I said.
Most of the gentlemen had already before them their pipes and theirtobacco. Some had ordered their drink--a pint of port for one: a BrownGeorge full of old ale for another; a flask of Canary for a third: andso on. But the captain, looking round the room, beckoned to the girlwho waited. "Jenny," he said, "nobody calls for anything to-nightexcept myself. Gentlemen, it must be a bowl--or a half dozen bowls.Tell your mistress, Jenny, a bowl of the biggest and the strongest andthe sweetest. Gentlemen, you will drink with me to the next voyage of_The Lady of Lynn_."
But then a thing happened--news came--which drove all thoughts of_The Lady of Lynn_ out of everybody's mind. That toast was forgotten.
The news was brought by the doctor, who was the last to arrive.
It was an indication of the importance of our town that a physicianlived among us. He was the only physician in this part of the country:he practised among the better sort, among the noble gentlemen of thecountry round about Lynn and even further afield in the northern partsof the shire, and among the substantial merchants of the town. For therest there were the apothecary, the barber and blood-letter, thebone-setter, the herbalist and the wise woman. Many there were evenamong the better sort who woul
d rather consult the woman, who knew thepowers of every herb that grows, than the physician who would writeyou out the prescription of Mithridates or some other outlandish namecomposed of sixty or seventy ingredients. However, there is no doubtthat learning is a fine thing and that Galen knew more than theancient dames who sit in a bower of dried herbs and brew them intonauseous drinks which pretend to cure all the diseases to whichmankind is liable.
Doctor Worship was a person who habitually carried himself withdignity. His black dress, his white silk stockings, his gold shoebuckles, the whiteness of his lace and linen, his huge wig, hisgold-headed cane with its pomander, proclaimed his calling, while theshortness of his stature with the roundness of his figure, his doublechin, his thick lips and his fat nose all assisted him in themaintenance of his dignity. His voice was full and deep, like thevoice of an organ and he spoke slowly. It has, I believe, beenremarked that dignity is more easily attained by a short fat man thanby one of a greater stature and thinner person.
At the very first appearance of the doctor this evening it wasunderstood that something had happened. For he had assumed anincreased importance that was phenomenal: he had swollen, so to speak:he had become rounder and fuller in front. Everybody observed thechange: yes--he was certainly broader in the shoulders: he carriedhimself with more than professional dignity: his wig had risen twoinches in the foretop and had descended four inches behind his back:his coat was not the plain cloth which he wore habitually in the townand at the tavern, but the black velvet which was reserved for thoseoccasions when he was summoned by a person of quality or one of thecounty gentry, and he carried the gold-headed cane with the pomanderbox which also belonged to those rare occasions.
"Gentlemen," he said, looking around the room slowly and withemphasis, so that, taking his change of manner and of stature--for menso seldom grow after fifty--and the emphasis with which he spoke andlooked, gathering together all eyes, caused the company to understand,without any possibility of mistake, that something had happened ofgreat importance. In the old town of Lynn Regis it is not often thatanything happens. Ships, it is true, come and go; their departures andtheir arrivals form the staple of the conversation: but an event,apart from the ships, a surprise, is rare. Once, ten years before thisevening, a rumour of the kind which, as the journals say, awaitsconfirmation, reached the town, that the French had landed in forceand were marching upon London. The town showed its loyalty by aresolution to die in the last ditch: the resolution was passed by themayor over a bowl of punch; and though the report proved withoutfoundation the event remained historical: the loyalty and devotion ofthe borough--the king's own borough--had passed through the fire ofperil. The thing was remembered. Since that event, nothing hadhappened worthy of note. And now something more was about to happen:the doctor's face was full of importance: he clearly brought greatnews.
Great news, indeed; and news forerunning a time unheard of in thechronicles of the town.
"Gentlemen," the doctor laid his hat upon the table and his canebeside it. Then he took his chair, adjusted his wig, put on hisspectacles, and then, laying his hand upon the arms of the chair heonce more looked round the room, and all this in the most important,dignified, provoking, interesting manner possible. "Gentlemen, I havenews for you."
As a rule this was a grave and a serious company: there was nosinging: there was no laughing: there was no merriment. They were theseniors of the town: responsible persons; in authority and office:substantial, as regards their wealth: full of dignity and ofresponsibility. I have observed that the possession of wealth, muchmore than years, is apt to invest a man with serious views. There waslittle discourse because the opinions of every one were perfectlywell-known: the wind: the weather: the crops: the ships: the health orthe ailments of the company, formed the chief subjects ofconversation. The placid evenings quietly and imperceptibly rolledaway with some sense of festivity--in a tavern every man naturallyassumes some show of cheerfulness and at nine o'clock the assemblydispersed.
Captain Crowle made answer, speaking in the name of the society, "Sir,we await your pleasure."
"My news, gentlemen, is of a startling character. I will epitomise orabbreviate it. In a word, therefore, we are all about to become rich."
Everybody sat upright. Rich? all to become rich? My father, who wasthe master of the Grammar school, and the curate of St. Nicholas,shook their heads like Thomas the Doubter.
"All you who have houses or property in this town: all who areconcerned in the trade of the town: all who direct the industries ofthe people--or take care of the health of the residents--will become,I say, rich." My father and the curate who were not included withinthese limits, again shook their heads expressively but kept silence.Nobody, of course, expects the master of the Grammar school, or acurate, to become rich.
"We await your pleasure, sir," the captain repeated.
"Rich! you said that we were all to become rich," murmured the mayor,who was supposed to be in doubtful circumstances. "If that weretrue----"
"I proceed to my narrative." The doctor pulled out a pocketbook fromwhich he extracted a letter. "I have received," he went on, "a letterfrom a townsman--the young man named Samuel Semple--Samuel Semple," herepeated with emphasis, because a look of disappointment fell uponevery face.
"Sam Semple," growled the captain; "once I broke my stick across hisback." He did not, however, explain why he had done so. "I wish I hadbroken two. What has Sam Semple to do with the prosperity of thetown?"
"You shall hear," said the doctor.
"He would bring a book of profane verse to church instead of theCommon Prayer," said the vicar.
"An idle rogue," said the mayor; "I sent him packing out of mycountinghouse."
"A fellow afraid of the sea," said another. "He might have become asupercargo by this time."
"Yet not without some tincture of Greek," said the schoolmaster; "todo him justice, he loved books."
"He made us subscribe a guinea each for his poems," said the vicar."Trash, gentlemen, trash! My copy is uncut."
"Yet," observed the curate of St. Nicholas, "in some sort perhaps, achild of Parnassus. One of those, so to speak, born out of wedlock,and, I fear me, of uncertain parentage among the Muses andunacknowledged by any. There are many such as Sam Semple on thatinhospitable hill. Is the young man starving, doctor? Doth he solicitmore subscriptions for another volume? It is the way of the distressedpoet."
The doctor looked from one to the other with patience and evenresignation. They would be sorry immediately that they had offered somany interruptions. When it seemed as if every one had said what hewished to say, the doctor held up his hand and so commanded silence.