Part 58 (1/2)

One more addition was made to our party.

My brother-in-law, Tom s.h.i.+rley, came to me one morning with a serious face--serious at least, for him. 'Will,' he said, 'I have been thinking about my own concerns, that is, my wife has been thinking about them for me. It is a great advantage for a man to give over that part of his business to his wife.'

'Well, Tom?'

'She says, if I remember right, because she has been saying a good deal, that so long as I am content to play first fiddle at the Dog and Duck for thirty s.h.i.+llings a week it matters not, as we shall never get on, and shall have to live in the Rules all our life. Well, Will, I would as lief live in the Rules as out of them. There is very good company in the Rules, almost as good as in the King's Bench itself.'

'She is not content that you should always play the fiddle at that place, and you are. Is that so?'

'For the patronage of aristocracy and the esteem of an audience of taste there is no equal to the Dog and Duck,' he replied gravely, as if he meant what he said of the dirty disreputable haunt of 'prentices and their kind. 'But I confess, Will, that there are times when I consider my musical compositions and when I long for a wider popularity. I think that I should like an opportunity to get my name better known. At the Dog and Duck the n.o.ble audience doth not ask the name of the composer.'

'You would leave the Rules if you could, and go live at Westminster, where there are concerts and rich patrons? Well, Tom, we are now rich.

We might manage that for you I believe.'

He shook his head. 'No. Best not waste good money. I should only get back here again in a month or two. My dear Will, if you only knew how difficult it is to refuse when things are offered on credit. Now, in the Rules no one has any credit, so that we save all our money.'

I never heard of Tom's saving any money. However, I asked him what he would have.

He would go with me. But did they want music in Virginia?

'Perhaps not now. Wait, however, till they have heard and seen me. I believe there is no musical composer, yet, in the Province. I will be the first Virginian musician. I will be the Handel of Virginia.'

'Well, Tom, why not?' The knowledge of my great income made me yielding.

Was there not enough for a dozen Toms? 'I dare say we could pay out your detaining creditors with no great difficulty.'

'Not for the world, my dear brother-in-law. Even from you I could not accept such a favour. Pay me out? Why, it would be no favour: it would be a crime. Do you know that my only detaining creditor is an attorney?

Pay an attorney? Never. Remember Probus. Surely you have had enough of attorneys.'

'Indeed I am not likely to forget Probus as long as I live. But then, if you are not paid out, Tom, how will you get out?'

'I shall walk out, Mr. William Halliday. If you let us go out with you I shall send the wife on board with Alice and I shall then walk out with my violin in one hand and a bundle of music in the other on the evening before the s.h.i.+p sails. I shall go on board. When my creditor finds out that I have taken my departure, which may take weeks--or it may take months--that honest attorney will be pained no doubt, for he is of a revengeful spirit. He will then do exactly what he pleases. But I believe he will not venture out to Virginia. If he should dare that attempt I will give him to friendly Indians in order to be--carbonadoed, as I believe you Americans call it. That attorney, Will, shall be carbonadoed over a slow fire.'

Tom, then, was to come with us. So with Jenny, her maid, and her man: Tom s.h.i.+rley and his wife: Alice, the boy and myself we should make up as pleasant a family party as ever sailed across the Atlantic.

The time approached when we were to go on board. The s.h.i.+p was to drop down with the ebb on Sat.u.r.day morning at nine with the turn of the tide.

Everything was on board; on the forecastle on deck my live stock was gathered: sheep, pigs, turkeys (all of which died in the Channel) geese and poultry: our furniture, books and music were stowed away in the hold: our wine and liquors were laid in bunks around the cabin: the Captain and the mate were to take meals with us: they were also so obliging as to drink up our rum and our wine. We had no leavetakings: on Friday afternoon Alice and her sister-in-law went on board. Tom joined them after sundown. At eight o'clock or thereabouts I was to bring Jenny and her party on board. Lord Brockenhurst had expressed his desire to say farewell to her on the quarterdeck.

A little after seven I repaired to the Gaol. At the gates I saw waiting three large waggons which the people were filling with boxes and bundles tied up in sacking and canvas. I thought nothing of these waggons at the moment: they did not concern me, and I entered the Lodge. There was waiting for me Jenny herself, dressed in splendour as if for a wedding.

Surely no prisoner sentenced to transportation ever went on board s.h.i.+p in such a guise. She was taking an affectionate leave of the Governor, who was moved almost to tears by her departure.

'Indeed, Sir,' she said, 'I am grieved to have put you to so much trouble.' So she shook hands, smiling sweetly: then she turned to the turnkeys. 'I am also very much in your debt, my friends,' and walked along the whole line distributing guineas. 'G.o.d bless your Ladys.h.i.+p!'

they uttered fervently. 'We shall never see the likes of your Ladys.h.i.+p here again.'

Indeed I am sure that they never will.

She mounted the steps of the coach which waited outside, she was followed by the girl, by myself, and by the lad called Jack.