Part 19 (1/2)
When Charlie woke the following morning in a comfortable room at the Royal Hotel, the first person that greeted his opening eyes was honest Hairblower. That worthy had taken entire possession of his former _protege_, and now made his appearance with a steaming gla.s.s of hot brandy-and-water, the only orthodox breakfast, in his opinion, for a man who had been wrecked the day before; though rather disgusted at Charlie's obstinacy in refusing this specific, he was extremely anxious to a.s.sist him through his toilet, and was only to be got rid of by an a.s.surance that his young favourite would be down to breakfast, where he would answer all his questions, and listen to all his protestations, in an incredibly short s.p.a.ce of time. Hairblower accordingly drank the brandy-and-water himself, and waited patiently during what appeared to him an unreasonably long period to spend in the process of adornment.
When Frank and Charlie met in the coffee-room, the sailor too made his appearance, and, with much circ.u.mlocution, managed to deliver himself of a request which had evidently been all the morning brewing in his mind.
”If it was not a liberty, Master Charles, and you, too, Mr.
Hardingstone, I should make bold to ask of you both to let me join company in a cruise. I conclude as you're bound to London this afternoon at the latest--soon as ever you've got rigged out decent and presentable. Well, gentlemen, you see I've a little business, too, in London town. I haven't been there not since, Mr. Hardingstone, you lent me a hand so kind, and I've got to be there, sooner or later, about the fis.h.i.+ng business; for, you see, my mates, they wish me to be spokesman like with our governor, and he can't leave London--so, in course, I must go to him. Now, if it wasn't too great a liberty, I should be proud if you gentlemen would let me wait upon you, just for the voyage like. I can't bear to part with you so soon: and though you've no luggage, seeing all your traps is still aboard, and spoilt by now, and I can't be useful to you, I should like just to see you and Master Charlie safe into London town, and shake you both by the hand there afore we part.”
Need we say the permission was joyfully granted, and that the afternoon train bore the trio in company to the metropolis, whence Charlie and Frank were to start next day together for Newton-Hollows?
CHAPTER XXIV
KING CRACK
THE TOAD WITHOUT THE JEWEL--AN INCLINED PLANE--TWO HEADS ARE BETTER THAN ONE--THE FIRST PARALLEL--THE FAMILY GONE OUT--A PLAN OF THE CITADEL--HOW TO GET IN--NO QUARTER--A TRIP BY RAIL--STRANGE COMPANY
”Sweet are the uses of adversity” to some malleable natures, which, bending to the storm, rise from it softened and refreshed as from an April shower; but there are desperate and rebellious spirits on whom grief and misfortune seem to have an exactly opposite effect. Such are more p.r.o.ne to kindle into resistance or smoulder in despair, and whilst the humbled penitent kneels meekly to kiss the rod, the hardened offender gnashes his teeth in impotent fury, and glories in his mad career as he forces himself from bad to worse, even to the very threshold of destruction--”game,” as the poor fool calls it, ”game to the last.”
Such was the disposition of Tom Blacke. When his child died, the whole of his better nature seemed to have followed the infant to the grave.
He had nothing now to care for in the world; and it is needless to enlarge upon the danger of such a state. His wife's misconduct--for she, poor woman, maddened by despair, had but followed her husband's example, in drowning sorrow with drunkenness--added fuel to the flames; and Tom was descending, just as gradually and as surely as one who walks step by step into a cellar, down into the lowest abyss of infamy and crime. The gradations are imperceptible, there are many windings in the path, but it never fails to terminate in the black gulf. At first the wayfarer may be easily checked and turned aside; but every onward step increases his velocity and his helplessness (the laws of gravitation are no less true in the moral than the physical world), and though a gossamer might have held him at starting, a chain of iron shall not break his fall as he nears the bottom. The beginning, too, is as insidious as it is effectual. The cheerful gla.s.s, the harbinger of good fellows.h.i.+p and kindliness, who would be such a churl as to deny a man the harmless pleasure of indulging in moderation with a friend? But one cheerful gla.s.s creates a craving for another, and ere long the liquor begins to have a charm of its own independent of the company. Then the dose must be increased, or it loses its power, and nightly indulgence begins to be followed by daily reaction; so a trifling stimulant is taken in the morning, just to steady the nerves and keep the cold out--a salutary precaution in this damp climate! Then the pleasure becomes a necessity, and partial intoxication begins to be the normal condition of the man. Meanwhile the habit is expensive, but who can doubt that the moral sense becomes blunted in so unnatural a state? and the drain on his means is supplied by the toper's application of his wages or other resources to his own brutal gratification. Self-indulgence soon destroys the sense of self-respect, and the temptation to procure money is irresistible, for without money how can he purchase drink? So the man first begins to lie, then to cheat, and lastly to steal. He has now arrived at the second stage in his downward journey. He has enlisted in a profession which has its rules, its customs, its triumphs--nay, to a certain extent, its pleasures--but from which there is no release. The drunkard is now a thief, and, to deaden the stings of conscience, no less a drunkard still. Then comes madness, for a state of habitual excitement can but be called madness, and visions of daring recklessness rise in the brandy-sodden brain--perhaps a sort of false ambition to triumph amongst his fellow-ruffians impels him to crimes of deeper dye than any he has yet contemplated, perhaps a vague longing for peril, perhaps a morbid thirst for blood. The wretch plots under the inspiration of brandy, and spurs himself to action with the same maddening stimulant. His nerves fail him at the critical moment, or the frenzy of despair dyes his hand with the ineffaceable stain of murder. In the one case a living death in the hulks separates him for ever from his fellow-men; in the other, the just retaliation of the law leaves his body quivering on the gallows, whilst his name becomes a byword and a curse in the mouths of generations yet unborn. This is the third and last stage of the downward journey; further we dare not follow the culprit; but few arrive at this awful ending without having gone regularly through all the previous gradations. Tom Blacke had only reached the second stage. He was now a professional thief and receiver of stolen goods. The lodgings in the Mews could now show curiosities and valuables that any one but a policeman would have been surprised to find in such a place. Gold watches, silks and shawls and trinkets, yards of brocade, ells of lace, and last, not least, a caldron always on the boil for the manufacture of that all-absorbing fluid which is called ”white soup,” and sold by the ounce, surrounded the once virtuous Gingham in her once respectable home. She, too, was on the downward track, and she drank to stupefy the sense of guilt, which she could not altogether stifle, and from which she had not energy to extricate herself. Mr. Blacke, however, as he began again to be called, allowed no conscientious scruples to interfere with business. He dressed well now, always had plenty of money at command, might be seen at many places of public resort, and though aware that the police had their eye on him--to use a common expression, that they were only giving him ”rope enough to hang himself,” and would undoubtedly ”want” him ere long--he appeared resolved to live out his little hour with the usual blind recklessness and infatuation of his kind.
Blacke was a plotting villain, and he had been for some time meditating a daring sweep that should eclipse all his previous doings, _and, if not thwarted_, realise a share of booty that would place him above want for the rest of his life. In order to discover and frustrate his plans, we must take the liberty of overhearing a conversation carried on between him and his confederate, in a small snug parlour off the bar of that very public-house in which Hairblower had been so shamefully hocussed and robbed on his former visit to the metropolis--an excursion he was not likely soon to forget.
”Bring a quartern of gin,” said Tom to the flaunting maid who waited on him, as he took his seat at the council-table, with a bloodshot eye and shaking hand, that showed such a stimulus was by no means unnecessary. ”Shut the door, girl,” he added, in a threatening voice, as the undiluted spirit was placed on the table between him and his companion; ”this gentleman and me has matters of business to talk over; see that we're not disturbed--d'ye understand?” The girl gave a saucy smile of intelligence, and left the two worthies to their consultation.
”My service to you,” said Tom, abruptly, as he lifted a br.i.m.m.i.n.g wine-gla.s.s full of gin to his shaking lips.
”Here's luck,” laconically replied the gentleman addressed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and turning his gla.s.s down upon the table to show how religiously he had drained every drop.
There was an ominous silence--Tom felt the moment had arrived to explain the whole of his plans, and he paused a little, like some skilful general, as he ran over in his mind how he should impart them in the clearest manner to his companion, a man of somewhat obtuse intellect, though strong and resolute in action, and who was indeed no other than Mr. Fibbes. That worthy's appearance had decidedly changed for the worse since we had the honour of making his acquaintance at the truly British game of skittles, or even since we last took leave of him in earnest conversation with his patron, Major D'Orville. He had sustained two domestic afflictions, from each of which he had suffered severely: the one in the loss of his little black-eyed wife, who had been suddenly taken from him, and who, although, as he himself said, she was a ”rum 'un when she was raised,” had certainly kept him out of a deal of mischief; the other, in the premature death of his pride and prime favourite, Jessie, whose sufferings during distemper and subsequent dissolution he averred would have moved ”a 'eart of stone.” Under the influence of these combined sorrows Mr. Fibbes had neglected his person, and taken more decidedly to drinking than formerly, and was now seldom or never in his right senses; a fact sufficiently attested by his bloated red face, his dull leaden eye, and general appearance of dissolute recklessness. He was indeed ripe for mischief, or, to use his own words, ”up to anythink, from skinning a pig to smothering a Harchbishop,” a frame of mind very likely to lead to dangerous consequences. Tom filled his gla.s.s once more, and opened the plan of his campaign.
”It must be done to-night, Mr. Fibbes,” he remarked, with polite energy; ”this is the last night we can manage it cleverly, on account of the moon. See now--I've been down in the neighbourhood to make sure. My missus, she knows the place as well as I know you. Bless you!
she was bred and born there. But I wouldn't trust to that. I've been waiting down about there for a week. At last, the family they all goes out a hairin' in the phaeton or what not--I walks boldly up to the front door and rings the bell. Up comes the housekeeper, all in a fl.u.s.ter, settling of a clean cap--thinks I, the footman's gone with the carriage, and the butler's out shootin', and directly his back's turned, the under butler he's off courtin', and the boy when the coast's clear, he runs out to play cricket, so there's no one left but the women--trust me for managin' of _them_.”
”Good,” said Mr. Fibbes, approvingly, as he filled and emptied his gla.s.s.
”'Is the General at home?' says I, quite promiscuous, and looking up and down the portico like a harchitect.
”'No, sir,' says she, politely enough; 'did you wish to see him?'
”'It's of no consequence,' says I, pulling a bundle of prints and a measuring-line out of my pocket, 'merely a small matter of business; the General's confidential servant would do as well.' Ye see I knowed the butler was out, else he'd have answered the door.
”'Perhaps you'll leave a message, sir,' says she.
”'O ma'am,' says I, 'it's a matter of no importance, only I _am_ going to town by the train to-night. Perhaps, ma'am, as you seem to be the governess, or a relative of the family, you might give me permission to do all I want.'
”'What is it?' says she, looking as pleased as Punch.
”'Well, ma'am,' says I, 'the fact is, I'm engaged in preparing a work for publication that shall comprise all the princ.i.p.al seats of the n.o.bility and gentry in the Midland Counties; would you oblige me by glancing over the proofs? and if there are any that strike your fancy, pray favour me by acceptin' of them,' says I. 'Your n.o.ble family owns one of the finest residences we have yet surveyed, and we shall be proud to do justice to it.'”