Part 9 (1/2)
CHAPTER XXI.
CHARLES AT MADRAS.
LUCKILY enough for all mankind in general, and our lovers in particular, Charles's last letter was very unlike some that had preceded it; for instead of the usual ”Oh, my love”'s, ”sweet, sweet eyes,” ”darling”'s, and all manner of such chicken-hearted nonsense, it was positively sensible, rational, not to say utilitarian: though I must acknowledge that here and there it degenerates into the affectionate, or Stromboli-vein of letter-writing, at opening especially; and really now and then I shall take leave to indicate omitted inflammations by a *.
”DEAREST, DEAREST EMMY,
[and so forth, a very galaxy of stars to the bottom of this page; enough to put the compositor out of his terrestrial senses.]
”You see I have recovered my spirits, dearest, and am not now afraid to tell you how I love you. Oh, that detestable Captain Forbes! let him not cross my path, gossiping blockhead! on pain of carrying about 'til deth,' in the middle of his face, a nose two inches longer. I heartily wish I had never listened for an instant to such vile insinuations; and when I look at this red right hand of mine, that dared to pen the trash in that black postscript, I look at it as Cranmer did, and (but that it is yours, Emmy, not mine), could wish it burnt. But no fears now, my girl, huzza, huzza! I believe every one about me thinks me daft; and so I am for very joyfulness; notwithstanding, let me be didactic, or you will say so too. I really will endeavour to rein in, and go along in the regular hackney trot, that you may partly comprehend me. Well, then, here goes; try your paces, Dobbin.
”On the morning of Sunday, April 11th, 1842, the good s.h.i.+p Elphinston--(that's the way to begin, I suppose, as per ledger, log-book, and mids.h.i.+pman's epistles to mamma)--in fact, dear, we cast anchor just outside a furious wall of surf, which makes Madras a very formidable place for landing; and every one who dares to do so certain of a watering. There lay the city, most invitingly to storm-tost tars, with its white palaces, green groves, and yellow belt of sand, blue hills in the distance, and all else _coleur de rose_. But--but, Emmy, there was no getting at this paradise, except by struggling through a couple of miles of raging foam, that would have made mince-meat of the Spanish Armada, and have smashed Sir William Elphinston to pieces. How, then, did we manage to survive it? for, thank G.o.d always, here I am to tell the tale. Listen, Emmy dear, and I will try not to be tedious.
”We were bundled out of the rolling s.h.i.+p into some huge flat-bottomed boats, like coal-barges, and even so, were grated and ground several times by the churning waves on the ragged reefs beneath us: and, just as I was enjoying the see-saw, and trying to comfort two poor drenched women-kind who were terribly afraid of sharks, a huge, cream-coloured breaker came bustling alongside of us, and roaring out 'Charles Tracy,'
gobbled me up bodily. Well, dearest, it wasn't the first time I had floundered in the waters [n.o.ble Charles! n.o.ble Charles! he had long forgiven Julian]; so I was battling on as well as I could, with a stout heart and a steady arm, when--don't be afraid--a _Catamaran_ caught me!
If you haven't fainted (bless those pretty eyes of your's, my Emmy!) read on; and you will find that this alarming sort of animal is neither an albatross nor an alligator, but simply--a life-boat with a Triton in the stern. Yes, G.o.d's messenger of life to me and happiness to you, my girl, came in the shape of a kindly, chattering, blue-skinned, human creature, who dragged me out of the surf, landed me safely, and, I need not say, got paid with more than hearty thanks. So, I scuffled to the custom-house to look after my traps and fellow-pa.s.sengers, like a dripping merman.
”'Who is that miserable old woman, bothering every body?' asked I of a very civil searcher, profuse in his salaams.
”'Oh, Sahib, you will know for yourself, presently: she's always hanging about here, to get news of somebody in England, I believe--and to try to find a charitable captain who will take her all the way for nothing: rather too much of a good thing, you know, Sahib.'
[We really cannot undertake to scribble broken English: so we will translate any thing that may mysteriously have been chatted by havildars, and coolies; and all manner of strange names.]
”'Poor old soul--she looks very wretched: what's her name?' asked I, carelessly.
”'Oh, I never troubled to inquire, Sahib: I believe she was an old servant left behind as lumber, and she pesters every one, day by day, about some 'bonnie bonnie bairn.''
”In a moment, Emmy, I had seized on dear nurse Mackie!
”Very old, very deaf, very infirm--she fancied I was driving her away, as many others might have done; and, with a truly piteous face, pleaded--
”'Gude sir, have mercy on a puir auld soul--and let her ask for her sweet young mistress, only once, sir--only once more.'
”'Emily Warren?' said I.
”Her wrinkled face brightened over as with glory--and she answered--
”'Bless the mouth that spake it, and these ears that hear her name!
yes--yes--yes--they call her so; where is she? how is she? have you seen her? is she yet alive?'
”Leading away the affectionate old soul from the crowd that was collecting round us, I left orders about luggage as a traveller should, and then told her all I knew: and I know you pretty well, I think, my Emmy.
”Her joy was like a mad woman's: the dear old Hecate pranced, and danced, and sung, and shouted like nothing but a mother when she finds her long-lost child: not that she's your mother, Emmy dear.