Part 9 (1/2)
”And what's become of her husband, and that handsome young chap, her son?”
”I don't know, nor n.o.body else either. The old man, who was as worthy an old soul as ever breathed (more shame to the old f.a.ggot, for the life she led him!) grew very unhappy and melancholy, and would not stay in the place: they disposed of every thing, and both went away together; but n.o.body knows where the old man is gone to.”
”And the young un?”
”Oh, he came back and took command of the sloop. He was here twice, to see how his mother was. Poor lad! it was quite pitiful to see how unhappy he was about the old catamaran. He give me and Bill a guinea apiece, to be kind to her; but, about three days back, the sloop came into the harbour without him: they suppose that he fell off the jetty at Bristol and was drowned for he was seen coming down to the boat; and, a'ter that, they never heard no more about him.”
”Well, but Tom, the old woman's all right now?”
”Yes, she's right enough; but, where be her husband, and where be her son? she'll never plague them any more, that's pretty sartain.”
The feelings of Mrs Forster at the finale of this discourse are not easy to be portrayed. One heavy load was off her mind--Mr Spinney was not dead; but how much had she also to lament? She perceived that she had been treacherously kidnapped by those who detested her conduct, but had no right to inflict the punishment. The kind and feeling conduct of her husband and of her son,--the departure of the one, and supposed death of the other, were blows which nearly overwhelmed her. She tottered back to her cell in a state of such extreme agitation, as to occasion a return of fever, and for many days she was unable to quit her bed.
VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TEN.
”When Britain first at Heaven's command Arose from out the azure main, This was the charter, the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung the strain-- Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves, For Britons never shall be slaves.”
We left Newton Forster senseless on the pavement leading to the quay at Bristol, floored by a rap on the head from a certain person or persons unknown: he did not however remain there long, being hoisted on the shoulders of two stout fellows, dressed in blue jackets and trousers, with heavy clubs in their hands, and a pistol lying perdu between their waistcoats and s.h.i.+rts. These nautical personages tumbled him into the stern-sheets of a boat, as if not at all sorry to rid themselves of his weight and, in a continued state of insensibility, Newton was hoisted up the side of a cutter which lay at anchor about one hundred yards from the sh.o.r.e.
When Newton recovered his senses, his swimming eyes could just enable him to perceive that something flashed upon them, and in their weak state created a painful sensation. As he became more collected, he discovered that a man was holding a small candle close to them, to ascertain whether the vein which had been opened in his arm had produced the desired effect of restoring him to animation. Newton tried to recollect where he was, and what had occurred; but the attempted exercise of his mental powers was too much, and again threw him into a state of stupor. At last he awoke as if from a dream of death, and looking round, found himself lying on the deck attended by a female, who bathed his forehead.
”Where am I?” exclaimed Newton.
”Is it where you are, that you'd want for to know? a'nt ye on board of the Lively cutter, sure? and a'nt you between decks in her, and I looking a'ter ye, honey?”
”And who are you?”
”And who am I! Then if I'm not somebody else, I'm Judy Malony, the wife of the boatswain's mate, and a lawful married woman.”
”How did I come here?” continued Newton, raising himself on his elbow.
”You didn't come at all, honey, you were brought.”
”Who brought me?”
”Who brought ye! it was either the gig or the jolly boat; but I wasn't on deck at the time, so I can't upon my oath say exactly which.”
”Then pray can you tell me why I was brought here?” replied Newton.
”Sure I can guess, bating you don't know already. It was to sarve your king and your country, like a brave volunteer as you are.”
”Then I'm impressed?”
”You may take your Bible oath of it, my jewel, and commit no perjury.
It's a hard rap that ye got, any how; just a hint that ye were wanted: but plase G.o.d, if ye live and do well, 'twill be nothing at all to what we'll have by-and-bye, all for the honour and glory of ould England.”
Newton, who during these remarks was thinking of his father's situation, and the distress he would suffer without his a.s.sistance, and then of the state in which he had left his mother, again sank on the deck.
”Why he's off again!” muttered Judy Malony; ”he's no countryman of mine, that's clear as the mud in the Shannon, or he'd never fuss about a rap with a s.h.i.+llelah;” and Judy, lifting up her petticoats first, gained her feet, and walked away forward.