Poor Jack

In about a fortnight from the time that Bramble commenced his tuition I was quite perfect with the compass; his method certainly was very good, for by such reiterated catechising what you had to learn was graven on your memory. All day long the same system was pursued. Even if dinner was on the table, the compass was on a chair close by, and as I was putting my fork to my mouth, much to Bessy's amusement, out would come the question, "How's her head, Tom?" Bramble soon gained his point; I could answer like lightning. But whether I was by the fire indoors, or on the shingle beach, his system was ever the same. Every time that Bramble opened his lips I gained some information; he was never wearying, and often very amusing.

One morning we were out on the beach—we had been conversing with the other pilots, and examining the vessels in the offing with my glass—when he pointed out to me, it being low neap tide, that the Goodwin Sands were partially dry. "Tom," continued he, "of all the dangers, not only of the Channel, but in the wide ocean, there is none to be compared with those sands—the lives that have been lost on them, the vessels that have been wrecked, and the property that has been sucked into them, would be a dozen kings' ransoms; for, you see, Tom, they are quicksands, and the vessel which goes on shore does not remain to be broken up, but in two tides she disappears, sinking down into the sands, which never give her or her cargo up again. There must be a mighty deal of wealth buried there, that is certain. They say that once they were a flourishing fertile island, belonging to an Earl Godwin, whose name they now bear; it may be so—the sea retreats from one place while it advances at another. Look at Romney Marshes, where so many thousands of sheep are now fed. They run up many miles inland; and yet formerly those very marshes were an arm of the sea, which vessels rode in deep water, and sea-fights, I am told, took place. Howsomever, when the sea took the Godwin island to itself it made the best trap for vessels that old Neptune now possesses, and he may consider it as the most productive spot in his dominions. Lord help us! what a deal of gold and merchandise must there be buried below yon yellow patch!"

"Do you never save anything when vessels are run on shore there?"

"When they only tail on, we occasionally get them off again; but when once fixed, there's an end of it. Yes, we save life occasionally, but at great risk of our own. I saved little Bessy from a vessel ashore on these sands."

"Indeed! Pray tell me how it was."

"Why, you see, Tom, it was just at the breaking out of the war. It was in this very month of October, '93, that I was out in a galley with some others, looking for vessels. I had just then left off privateering, and got my warrant as pilot (for you know I did serve my 'prenticeship, before I went a-privateering, as I told you the other night). Well, it was a blowing night, and we were running in for the Downs, intending to beach the galley and sleep on shore, for we had been out five days, and only put a pilot on board of one vessel. We were just to windward of the Sands, out there, where I am now pointing. The sea was very rough, but the night was clear, and the moon shone bright, when we saw a brig running down before the wind, under foresail and close-reefed topsails. 'Why, Bill, as she steers she'll be right between the Callipers,' said I to the man sitting by me. 'There's no mistake about that,' replied he; 'let's haul the foresheet to windward, and lay to, to hail him; he's coming right down upon us.' Well, we did so, and we hailed some time without any answer. At last a man looked over the gunnel, just as she was flying past us, and told us in Dutch to go to the devil. 'I think you'll go there if you don't look sharp,' replied Bill. 'Come, my lads, we may as well follow her, and see if we cannot prevent mischief.' So we bore up after her, and hailed her several times, for we sailed very fast, and there was a scuffling on deck. I think that the captain was drunk. All this passed in less than five minutes; and then, as I knew would be the case, she struck on the sands, and with such force that all her masts went over the side immediately. Now, the sea rolls awfully over the shallow water of those sands, Tom. We had kept with her as far as we dared, and then hove-to about two cables' lengths to windward of her, when she struck, for the ebb was still running strong under our lee, which only made the sea more cross and heavy. The waves made a clean breach over her, and we knew that she would go to pieces in less than half-an-hour; but we did not like to leave so many to perish without a trial to save them. So we kept away, so as to get abreast of them, and then lowered our sails and got out our oars. We pulled close to them, but it was impossible to board. We should have been stove to pieces and swamped immediately. The moon still shone bright, and we saw them as plain as we could wish, and we made every attempt to save them, for they were all crowded together forward. Once the sea drove the boat so close that we touched her sides, and then a woman pressed before the men, and reached over the gunnel, extending her arms which held the child, while several others attempted to get in; but the return of the wave carried us back so quick from the vessel that, as they attempted to jump in, they all went to the water, and never appeared again; but I had caught hold of the child, and laid it down in the sternsheets. We made a second and third attempt, but in vain. At last the vessel broke up, as it were, all at once—there was one loud cry, and all was still, except the roaring and breaking waves which buried them. It wasn't a scene to make us very lively, Tom; we hoisted the sail, and ran on to the beach in silence. I took the child in my arms—it had been snatched out of its warm bed, poor thing, and had nothing on but a calico nightgown. I took it up to the cottage, which was then Maddox's (I bought it afterward of the widow with the money I made a-privateering), and I gave it in charge to Mrs. Maddox. I did intend to have sent it to the workhouse, or something of that sort; but Mrs. Maddox took a fancy to it, and so did I, and so I thought I would take care of it, and I christened it by the name of Betsy Godwin."

It may be as well here to remark that the system of pilotage is different now from what it used to be at the period of which I am writing. The Cinque Port pilots now carry vessels from the Downs to the river, and from the river to the Downs. Their pilotage extends no further. Vessels seldom require pilots for the Channel, and do not take them unless they are bound to some port in the Channel with which they are unacquainted, and those pilots who ply in the Channel are termed Hoblers; but at the time I refer to the regular pilots used to go out in their galleys to the chaps of the Channel and take charge of vessels all the way up, which, by the new regulations, they do not do. The arrangements for pilotage have been much improved of late years, and those employed are better qualified.

I had remained at Deal about three weeks when an outward-bound Indiaman anchored in the Downs. Her pilot came on shore, and she made the signal for another. It was Bramble's turn, a galley was launched, and we went on board.

The ship was bound to Plymouth, from whence she was to sail with convoy to a certain latitude. The weather was now fine and frosty, and we made sail when the tide served. As soon as we were fairly out in the Channel Bramble went with me into the main-chains, and showed me how to heave the lead. After several attempts, in which I sometimes would hit the spare topsail-yard upon which I stood, sometimes would nearly break my own head, and once contrived to throw the lead over the hammock-rails inboard, I succeeded in getting it round over my head; and when I had once gained that point I made fewer mistakes. In two days we arrived at Plymouth; and as Bramble kept me at it till my arms ached, nearly half the day, I could by that time heave the lead pretty fairly, that is to say, without danger to myself or other people. The day after we arrived at Plymouth we got into a pilot boat and went out in search of employment, which we soon found, and we continued chiefly taking vessels up to Portsmouth and down to Plymouth, or clear of soundings, for some time. During this time my practice at the lead was incessant, and I became very perfect. When I was not at the lead Bramble would make me stand at the binnacle and watch the compass, so that, by the time we arrived at Deal again, I was pretty competent in those two branches of my art, except that, having practiced the lead mostly in deep water, I had not acquired accuracy and expedition in giving the soundings. But I learned a great deal more of my profession; Bramble explaining to me the sails, rigging, and names and uses of the ropes, and the various maneuvers practiced, all of which he would catechise me in afterward, to ascertain if I was perfect, and had remembered what he told me. I was, therefore, under excellent tuition. Whatever port we entered Bramble would point out the landmarks to me, state the distances from point to point, and the dangers to be avoided. These I could not so well retain perfectly, and required occasional reminding, but altogether I gave him satisfaction. It was on New Year's Day, 1800, that we boarded a large homeward-bound Indiaman, which had just struck soundings. She was a thousand-ton ship, with a rich cargo of tea on board, and full of passengers, besides more than one hundred invalids from the regiments out there, who had been sent home under the charge of two officers.

What a difference there appeared to me to be between the Indiaman going out and this one coming home! the first so neat and clean in her decks, and this so crowded and so weatherworn by her long voyage. What with troops in old jackets, which had once been scarlet, Lascars with their curly black hair, and dark handsome features, yellow men, sickly women, and half-caste children, with their Hindoo ayahs, tigers, lions, turtles, cows, sheep, goats, and pigs, on the booms and main deck, the vessel was in a strange motley of confusion.

As soon as we were put on board, the captain, officers, and passengers crowded round to inquire the news. Bramble, according to pilot custom, had brought off one or two late Plymouth papers (one of which, I recollect, gave the account of the cutting out of the "Hermione" by Captain Hamilton); but the people on board were eight months behindhand at least as regarded what had passed. They had not even heard of Sir Sydney Smith's defense of Acre against Bonaparte, or anything else which had subsequently occurred; so that as soon as Bramble had taken charge, and put the ship's head the right course (for the wind was fair), there was no end to question and answer, And while Bramble was questioned by the captain and passengers, I was attacked by the midshipmen or guinea-pigs, as they are called. Having a fair wind, we ran right for the Downs, where we arrived on the morning of the second day. Here the purser of the ship went on shore with his dispatches, and the ship anchored to await orders, by the next post, to go up the river.

The next morning, as we expected, the orders came down for the Indiaman to go round to the river. The wind was fair, but light; we hove up and made sail, stemming the last of the ebb. When the flood made, the wind died away, so that we made but little progress, much to the annoyance of those on board, who were naturally impatient to land after so tedious a voyage. Toward the evening it fell calm, and a fog-bank rose on the horizon to the eastward. There were still two hours of daylight, when, as I was sweeping the horizon with my glass, I discovered the three masts of a vessel with no sails set on them. As she was a long way off I went half-way up the main rigging to have a better view of her, and made her out to be a large lugger. I went down to the poop, where Bramble stood smoking a cheroot with some of the officers of the ship. "Father," says I, "there's a large lugger on our beam, with her sails lowered down. I caught her masts with the glass just now."

"Then she's a French privateer, you may depend upon it," replied Bramble, "and she means to try to take us by surprise to-night."

The officers went down and reported it to the captain: the glasses were fixed upon her, and there was little doubt as to what she was.

"Lucky you discovered her, boy, for we might have been surprised, that's a fact," said the captain; "however, now she shall catch a Tartar."

"She's waiting for the fog, captain," said Bramble, "which will come rolling down with the shift of wind in about an hour or two, I expect; and then we must allow her another hour to get alongside of us. Depend upon it she has plenty of men, and intends to try to board us in the fog."

Everybody was now on the qui vive; the women were, as usual, frightened; the men passengers looked grave, the Lascars rather unsteady; but we had forty English seamen and a hundred invalid soldiers on board, who could all be depended upon. The guns were loaded and shotted, and the invalid soldiers were mustered; muskets and ammunition handed up; the bayonets fixed, unfixed again; and then they were ordered to remain on the booms with their accouterments on and their muskets by their sides. The officers still kept their glasses on the lugger, until at last the fog came down and we could see her no more.

The officers who commanded the invalids, after a consultation with the captain at which Bramble assisted, told off their men into two parties, one of them being appointed to assist the seamen with their bayonets in repelling the boarders (should the attempt be made), and the other to fire upon them and into the deck of the vessel when she came alongside. The Lascars were stationed at the guns, in case they might be required; but no great dependence was placed upon their services.

By the time that these arrangements had been made, the fog had reached the Indiaman, and we were at the same time taken aback with the easterly breeze which brought it down to us; being near to the land, we put the ship's head off shore. The wind continued light and the water smooth, but the fog thickened every minute: at last we could hardly see as far as the foremast of the vessel.

"He'll be puzzled to find us, I think," said the captain.

"He'll find us, never fear," replied Bramble. "He has calculated the time of the fog reaching us, and he knows that we must lay our head off-shore—to be sure, we might give him the go-by if we bore up and ran back again to the Downs."

"I think I see myself bearing up and running away from a rascally French privateer," said the captain. "Keep a sharp lookout there forward."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the chief officer.

Half an hour more passed, and by our calculation the privateer should have been on board of us, but we could see nothing of her, although the fog had cleared up a little. The soldiers were now ordered to load their muskets. I was on the poop with Bramble, when, happening to turn and look aft (the very opposite direction from which the privateer was to be expected), I saw her three lugsails looming in the mist, just on the quarter, not half a cable's length from us. I jumped down to where the captain was standing, and said to him, "There she is, sir, close on our lee quarter." The captain sprang on the poop, saw the vessel, and ordered the men to come aft in silence. The tramp of the soldiers' feet was scarcely over when the lugger was alongside of us, her masts banging against our main and mizzen chains as she rolled with the swell under our lee. The Frenchmen gave a cheer, which told us how very numerous they were: they climbed up the side and into the chains like cats, and in a few seconds all was noise, confusion, and smoke. It was impossible to know what the result was to be for about a minute, when the cheers from our own men announced that the assailants had been beaten back. But hardly had the cheering ceased on our side when another cheer was heard from the lugger, and the attempt to gain our decks was repeated. This time the Frenchmen fought more obstinately than before, and it was nearly five minutes before they were repelled. It was not yet dark (although the fog was thick), and you could make out their countenances pretty clear; a more wild reckless set of fellows I never beheld, and they certainly fought very gallantly, but they were driven back again; and once more were the cheers from the British seamen and soldiers mixed up with the execrations and shouts of the still contending, although retreating, Frenchmen.

Just at this period of the conflict I was standing on the poop by Bramble, who had been watching the result, when he said, "Tom, come with me: do you jump into the main chains with a double part of the topsail halyards fall, and when the lugger's mast strikes against the chains as she rolls into us, pass the fall round it underneath the rigging, and hand the end in to me."

We both leaped off the poop; he gave me the bight of the halyards. I crept out of the port into the chains and passed it round the lugger's mainmast, as he told me, handing in the bight to him, which he belayed slack to the mainsheet kevel. At the time I perceived a man lying wounded or dead in the main chains, but I paid no attention to him until, as I was about to get on board, he attracted my attention by seizing my leg, and making his teeth meet in the small part of it, above the ankle. I could not help crying out, I was so taken by surprise with the pain; however, I kicked him off, and turning to look at him, I found it was a wounded Frenchman, who, perceiving what I was about, had paid me that compliment. As soon as I was on board I heard the captain say to Bramble, "Well, pilot, he has had enough of it."

"Yes, and he won't escape, captain, for Tom has got him fast by the masthead, and they dare not climb up to cut themselves adrift. All that you have to do now it to let the soldiers fire on his decks until they run below, and then our men can board and take possession of her."

The captain, perceiving that the vessel was made fast, gave the necessary orders. The soldiers lined the hammock nettings and chains, and such a shower of musketry was poured into her decks that the Frenchmen were soon driven below, and our seamen then slipped down her rigging, boarded, and took possession of her. The prisoners having been ordered up and passed into the forehold, the wounded men were then looked after. We had eleven wounded, but none killed; the Frenchman had eight killed and seventeen wounded; among others, the captain, who had headed the second attempt to board. She was called the "Pucelle d'Orleans," of twelve guns and a hundred and twenty-five men.

It was two or three hours before we were again all to rights, and a party sent on board of the prize; and then there was again another kind of confusion, from the congratulations, drinking healths, the women coming up on deck, etc.; however, the weather continued light, so it was of no consequence. That Frenchman bit very hard, and I limped for three or four days afterward.

"Well, Tom," said Bramble, "I see you've got nerve, so all's right. You had better go and lie down now, for you must be tired; I'll call you in the morning."

Very glad was I to limp to bed. All night I dreamed of nothing but volleys of musketry, and boarding and reboarding, and being wounded in the leg, and then I would awake with the smart of the Frenchman's teeth.

The next morning when I came on deck, the captain thanked me for my services, and said that the lugger would have escaped had it not been for me. I replied that it was Bramble who prevented her escape, as I should not have thought of making her fast if I had not been told.

"That's all true enough," replied the captain; "but how many of your age, having been told to do it, would have done it, Tom? I shall not forget you."

I went on the poop to Bramble, who, as usual, had his short pipe in his hand; and I certainly was pleased when I saw what a beautiful craft we had helped to capture. She sat like a swan on the water, and sailed round and round us with the greatest ease.

In the afternoon we anchored at the Nore, and sent away all the prisoners to Sheerness. I must not forget to say how very kind and generous the passengers were to me. They made a great many presents, some of value, as I afterward found out; and I was glad to receive them that I might give them to Virginia and those who had been friendly to me.

The next morning we arrived off Greenwich, and Bramble told me to go on shore and remain with my father and mother until he came down, which he would do in a few days, and pay a visit to his old friend Anderson. I landed with all my contraband articles in the boat, but no one thought of stopping or searching the former "Poor Jack." My insignificance was my protection; and I arrived safely at Fisher's Alley with all my curiosities and prohibited effects. When I entered the house, I perceived that there was a third person sitting in company with my mother and Virginia; but Virginia sprang to me, and I threw down my bundles with which I was loaded, and pressed her in my arms. Although I had been absent but four months, she appeared to be very much grown, and in every way improved. As soon as I had released her, I offered my hand to my mother, who took it very coldly, and then observed, "Tom, you will be so ungenteel; don't you see there is a gentleman here?"

"I beg his pardon, mother," replied I; "but I could only see my sister just then."

"And I admire your feeling, Tom," replied the party. "Mrs. Saunders, you must not scold him for that. How do you do, Tom, and how do you like your profession?" continued he, holding out his hand.

I took his hand, and looking at him I recognized him. "Oh, sir! you are the gentleman who was sitting in the room when we called upon Sir Hercules and her ladyship."

"I am so, Tom, and I promised Sir Hercules that I would have an eye to you all, and be of any use to you that I could. My name is Wilson, and I'm what the sailors call a shark, that is, I'm a lawyer."

"Well, you don't appear as if you would bite, sir," replied I, as I looked at his venerable and kind face.

"No, no, we never frighten people by our looks. We don't carry our teeth with us; but I have several rows of them, all upon shelves in my chambers, called the 'Statute at Large,' and by other names."

He then entered into conversation with me, and I told him most of what had passed, of course not forgetting that the Indiaman we had brought up the river had captured a privateer. He sat about an hour, and then went away, desiring me to call upon him. I was not sorry when he went, as I wished to show my presents to Virginia, and give her those which she liked best. When Virginia had selected for herself, or rather I had forced upon her all she most admired, I gave a cut ivory card-case, a filigree needle-case, and a small red scarf to my mother, who, for the first time in her life, appeared pleased with me, and said that they were very genteel, and she was much obliged to me. The remainder I put away in my room upstairs, intending to keep some for Bessy, and give the others to Mrs. St. Felix, the doctor, and old Nanny.

I then went to the hospital and found out my father, old Anderson and Ben. I narrated to them much more circumstantially than I did to the old lawyer the particulars of the capture of the privateer. Anderson put a great many inquiries to me, as to my liking my profession, and also concerning little Bessy, whose history I communicated to him. After my father and Ben had left, he gave me a great deal of advice, all of which I trust that I treasured up.

"I hear," said he, "that Spicer has been talking a good deal about you, and inquiring very often when you were expected to return. Were you very intimate with that man?"

I replied in the negative, and then narrated the whole history of the spy-glass, the erasure of the name by Mrs. St, Felix, and the recognition of it by Spicer.

"You did right to leave him in his error relative to where you received the glass from," said Peter Anderson; "there is some mystery there which time may unravel, but do not say a word of it to any one, Tom. I am glad that you have told me, as, in case you are away, and anything should occur, I shall know how to act."

I must acknowledge that I now walked proudly through the streets of Greenwich. I was no longer Poor Jack, but I was earning my livelihood in my profession. I had reason to be still prouder when, two days afterward, Mr. Wilson came to my mother's with the newspaper in his hand in which there was a long account of the capture of the privateer, and the conduct of Bramble and of me spoken of in the highest terms. This he read aloud to my mother and Virginia. I watched my sister. The tears filled her eyes as she listened, and when Mr. Wilson had done her arms were round my neck, and her smiles were mixed with her tears, and sometimes she would laugh as she cried. Oh! how I loved her then, for I felt how dearly she loved me; even my mother appeared gratified, although she said nothing, but continued to repair the lace veil upon which she had been employed. That evening I went with Virginia to call upon Mrs, St. Felix, taking with me the presents I had laid aside for her. She welcomed me as usual, and accepted what I brought for her without hesitation and with many thanks.

"Well, Mr. Tom," said she, "I'll just put away all your nice little remembrances, and then I'll tell you that I've heard all about your behavior in the fight with the privateer, and I've no doubt but that, if you continue to go on as you have begun, you will one day have a leg the less, as your father has before you."

"I hope not," replied I; "two legs are better than one."

"Yes, when you want to run away, that's true. I see now why you're so anxious to save your legs."

"But, Mrs. St. Felix, if it had not been for that good spy-glass you gave me, I never should have discovered the privateer, and we should not have been prepared for her."

"Well, that's fortunate; it didn't prove a glass too much, anyhow, or you'd have seen double. I suppose, then, all these pretty things are my share of the prize-money."

"No, they are no value, except to prove to you that Poor Jack has not forgotten your kindness, and never will."

"That I believe; and, believing that, I suppose you have not forgotten old Nanny."

"No; but I have not seen her yet. I intend to go to-morrow; but I have something for the doctor. He is not at home; will you give it to him?"

"Certainly; you know I am as good as a mother to him."

"I think the doctor would rather you'd be a wife to him."

"That's a foolish idea that's in many people's heads, Tom, which I'll thank you to contradict. I never intend to change my name."

"Don't make too sure," replied I; and I added at a venture (why, I know not, but I had formed the idea in my mind that St. Felix was not her proper name), "you may change it yet for your real name."

"Tom, Tom," cried the widow, "what do you mean?" "Nothing," replied I, "I was only joking." "Well, then, don't talk such nonsense, or I shall send you out of the shop."

I had, however, it appeared, struck upon a chord which jarred, and all the spirits of Mrs. St. Felix vanished at once. So Virginia and I wished her a good-evening and returned home.

On our arrival at my mother's, I found a letter from Bramble, stating that he would be at Greenwich in two days, and, further, informing me that the honorable company had been pleased, in consequence of the report made of our good behavior, to award to him the sum of two hundred pounds, and to me the sum of one hundred pounds, as a remuneration for our assistance in the capture of the privateer.

This was news indeed. One hundred pounds! I never thought that I should possess such a sum in my life. One hundred pounds! what should I do with it? My mother was astonished, and then fell into a very grave mood. Virginia was pleased, but appeared to care less about it than I thought she would have done. My father came in as usual with Ben the Whaler, and I read the letter.

"Why, Tom, that's about as much prize-money as I have made in all my sarvice," said my father, "and you've been afloat only four months. Come, missis, send for some beer, and let us drink Tom's health and success to him. God bless you, my boy! the papers say you deserved it, and that's better than your getting it. I'm proud of you; I am, indeed, my boy. Your father's proud of you, Tom"—and here my father showed more emotion than ever I witnessed in him before; however, he put his lips to the porter-pot, and when he had drained it nearly to the bottom, he had quite recovered himself.

"Well, Tom," said Ben, after he had finished the small modicum of beer left him by my father, "and what do you mean to do with all that money?"

"I'm sure I don't know—I have no want of it—I have everything I wish for."

"Come, missis," said my father, "we must have another pot, for I drank deep, and Ben has been shared out." My mother very graciously sent for another pot of porter, which, with the newspaper, occupied Ben and my father till it was time for us to break up and go to bed.

The next morning when I went down I found Virginia alone, my mother having returned to her room.

"Tom," said she, "what do you think my mother said to me when we were going to bed last night?"

"Tell me."

"She said, 'Tom says he don't know what to do with his money. I only wish I had it; I would turn it into three times the sum in three years, and have a better home for you, my dear.'"

"Did she say how?"

"Yes, I asked her how; she said that she should take a new house with a shop up the town, and set up as a milliner, with apprentices; that, as soon as she was fairly employed, she should give up getting up fine linen, and only take in laces to wash and mend, which was a very profitable business."

"Well," says I, "Virginia, my mother is a hard-working woman, and a clever woman, and I dare say she would do very well, and, as she says she would have a better home for you, I think I shall let her have the money; but I won't say so yet. I must talk about it to Peter Anderson, and if he don't say no, she shall have it with pleasure."

"That will be very kind of you, Tom; and I hope mother will feel it, for you don't owe her much."

"Never mind that; after breakfast I'll see Peter Anderson. Don't say a word about it till I come back."

At breakfast-time my mother still appeared to be very thoughtful. The fact was, that the idea of what advantage the money would be had taken possession of her mind; and perhaps she thought that there was no chance of obtaining it. Perhaps she felt that, had she treated me better, she would have had it without difficulty—it was impossible to say exactly.

After breakfast I walked with Virginia to her school, and then set off to Anderson, to whom I immediately imparted what had taken place. His answer was decided:

"I think, Jack, you can't do better; but, at the same time, let us go to your father and hear his opinion."

My father coincided with Anderson and me; and he added, "I tell you what, your mother is not parfect exactly—though I say it, as shouldn't say it—but still she does work hard, and she will work hard; she has paid my little girl's schooling out of her own arnings, and, moreover, she has found me one pot of porter at least every night, which has made me very comfortable. Now, I've still a matter of forty pounds in the lieutenant's hands. I'll add it to Tom's hundred pounds, and then she will have a fair start. What d'ye think, Peter?"

"I think you are both right; and, Tom, you are doing your duty."

I knew what Anderson meant. I thanked him for his advice, and my father and I went to my mother's house. I requested my father to stand spokesman, which he did, ending by telling my mother that my hundred pounds and his forty pounds were very much at her sarvice, and good luck to her. Virginia's eyes glistened as she took me by the hand. My mother replied, "Very well, if we pleased, she would do her best for us all."

The answer was hardly gracious, but I watched her countenance and saw she was moved. Her thin lips quivered as she turned away and went upstairs, which she did immediately after her reply. In about half-an-hour, during which I was laughing with Virginia, my mother came downstairs in her shawl and bonnet.

"Tom," said she, in a kind manner, "will you walk with Virginia to school this afternoon, as I am going to have some conversation with Mr. Wilson?"

The alteration in her tone of voice to me was immediately perceived by Virginia.

"You are a dear good Tom," said she, kissing me, as soon as my mother had left the house.

As soon as I had left Virginia at school, I went to call upon old Nanny, whom I found quite brisk and lively, sorting old keys and rusty hinges.

"Well, Jack," said she, "so you are come at last! I thought you would have been here yesterday, but nobody cares about an old woman like me. I heard all about you, and how you took the privateer, and how the Company have given you a hundred pounds; and when I heard that I said, Jack (Poor Jack that was, who came begging to old Nanny to lend him money) will not come to see me, he'll be too proud. Besides,' I said, 'his family is getting up in the world: there's a baronet and his lady who have taken them under their protection, and there's lawyer Wilson calls at the house. Oh, dear me! it's the way of us all.'"

"And so you said all that to yourself, did you?" replied I.

"Yes, and a great deal more, too."

"Then, mother, you did me injustice. I could not well come before; I had to see my father and mother and my sister, and I had business to transact."

"Mercy on us! business to transact! Poor Jack had business to transact! Here's a change from the time that his whole business was to touch his hat for coppers and dip his head in the mud for a penny."

"Nevertheless, what I say is true, and you are very unjust to accuse me as you have done. I have always thought of you, and have now with me several things that I have collected for you."

"Yes, you promised me. Jack, you do keep your promises; I will say that for you. Well, what have you got?"

I opened my handkerchief and pulled out several little articles, such as fine worked baskets, shells, etc., and, among the rest, a pound of tea in a leaden canister.

"There, mother, I have brought you them as a present, and I hope you will take them."

Old Nanny turned them over one by one, rather contemptuously, as I thought, until she came to the tea. "That may do," said she. "Why, Jack, those are all very pretty things, but they are too pretty for my shop. Why didn't you bring me some empty ginger beer bottles? I could have sold them this very morning."

"Why, mother, I really did not like to ask for such things."

"No, there it is; you've grown so fine all of a sudden. These are no use, for nobody will come to my shop to buy them."

"I thought you would like to keep them yourself, mother."

"Keep them? Oh, they are keepsakes, are they? Look you, Jack, if they are to be kept you had better take them away at once, and give them to the young girls. Girls like keepsakes, old women like money."

"Well, mother, sell them if you please; they are your own."

"Sell them? let me see—yes, I think I know where there is a sort of curiosity-shop, in Church Street; but it's a long way to walk, Jack, and that—let me see," continued she, counting the different articles, "one, two, three—seven times, Jack."

"But why not take them all at once?"

"All at once, you stupid boy! I should get no more for two than for one. No, no; one at a time, and I may make a few shillings. Well, Jack, it's very kind of you, after all, so don't mind my being a little cross. It was not on account of the things, but because you did not come to see me, and I've been looking out for you."

"If I had thought that, I would have come sooner, mother, although it would not have been convenient."

"I believe you, Jack, I believe you; but you young people can't feel as an old woman like I do. There is but one thing I love in the world, Jack, now, and that's you; and when I get weary of waiting for that one thing, and it don't come, Jack, it does make a poor old woman like me a little cross for the time."

I was touched with this last speech of old Nanny's, who had never shown me any such a decided mark of kindness before. "Mother," said I, "depend upon it, whenever I return to Greenwich, you shall be the first person that I come to see after I have been to my mother's."

"That's kind, Jack, and you keep your promise always. Now sit down; you don't want to go away already, do you?"

"No, mother, I came to spend the whole morning with you."

"Well, then, sit down—take care, Jack, you'll knock down that bottle. Now tell me, what do you intend to do with your hundred pounds?"

"I have settled that already, mother. I have given it away."

"Already! Why, the boy has one hundred pounds given him on the morning, and he gives it away before night, Mercy on us! who would ever think of leaving you any money?"

"No one, mother; and I never expect any except what I earn."

"Why, Jack, do you know how much one hundred pounds is?"

"I think so."

"Now, Jack, tell me the truth, who did you give it to, your father, or your little sister, or who? for I can't understand how a person could give away one hundred pounds in any way or to anybody."

"Well, then, I gave it to my mother."

"Your mother! your mother, who has hated you, wished you dead, half-starved you! Jack, is that possible?"

"My mother has not been fond of me, but she has worked hard for my sister. This hundred pounds will enable her to do much better than she does now, and it's of no use to me. Mother may love me yet, Nanny."

"She ought to," replied old Nanny, gravely; and then she covered her face up with her hands. "Oh, what a difference!" ejaculated she at last.

"Difference, mother, difference? in what?"

"Oh, Jack, between you and—somebody else. Don't talk about it any more, Jack," said Nanny, casting her eyes down to the presents I had brought her. "I recollect the time," continued she, evidently talking to herself, "that I had plenty of presents; ay, and when it was thought a great favor. I would accept them. That was when I was young and beautiful; yes, people would laugh if they heard me—young and very beautiful, or men's smiles and women's hate were thrown away—

"'Why so pale and wan, fond lover;
Prithee, why so pale?'

"Yes, yes, bygones are bygones."

I was much surprised to hear old Nanny attempt to sing, and could hardly help laughing; but I restrained myself. She didn't speak again, but continued bent over one of the baskets, as if thinking about former days. I broke the silence by saying:

"What part of the country did you live in when you were young, mother?"

"In the north part. But never ask questions."

"Yes, but, mother, I wish to ask questions. I wish you to tell me your whole history. I will not tell it again to any one, I promise you."

"But why should you wish to know the history of a poor old thing like me?"

"Because, mother, I am sure you must have seen better days."

"And if I have, Jack, is it kind to ask me to bring up to memory the days when I was fair and rich, when the world smiled upon me, and I was fool enough to think that it would always smile? Is it kind to recall what was to an old, miserable, deserted wretch like me, struggling to keep out of the workhouse? Look at me now, Jack, and see what I now am. Is it not cruel to bring to my mind what I once was? Go to, Jack, you're a selfish boy, and I don't love you."

"Indeed, mother, if I thought it would have given you pain, I never would have asked you; but you cannot wonder at me. Recollect that you have ever been my best friend; you trusted me when nobody else would; and can you be surprised at my feeling an interest about you? Why, mother, I don't even know your name."

"Well, Jack, you have put things in a better light. I do believe that you care for me, and who else does? But, Jack, my name you never shall know, even if I am to tell you all the rest."

"Were you ever married, mother?"

"Yes, child, I was married. Now, what's the next question?" continued she, impatiently.

"Had you any children?"

"Yes, boy, I had one—one that was a source of misery and shame to his doting mother." Old Nanny pressed her eyeballs with her knuckles as if in agony.

"I won't ask you any more questions," said I mournfully.

"Not now, Jack, that's a good boy; some other day, perhaps, I'll tell you all. There's a lesson in every life, and a warning in too many. You'll come again, Jack—yes, I know you'll come to hear my story, so I shall see you once more before you leave. Go now." Old Nanny rose and went indoors, taking her stool in her hand, and leaving the presents where they lay, outside—a proof that she was in great agitation. I put them inside the threshold, and then went homeward.

I could not help remarking, as I walked home, that old Nanny's language and manner appeared very superior when she broke out in these reminiscences of the past, and I felt more interest in her than I ever had before. On my return, I found Bramble, who had come down sooner than he was expected, sitting in the parlor with Peter Anderson and my father, all smoking, with porter on the table.

"Well, Tom," said Bramble, "here I am two days before my time, but that's better than being two days after it, and, what's more, I've got the money, both yours and mine. They told me I should not get it for three months at least; but I sent up my name to the Board, and explained to them that a pilot could not wait like a purser while they were passing accounts, so the gentlemen laughed, and gave me an order for it; and I've got all my pilotage, too, so I'm a rich man just now. Come, I'll give you yours at once, and I hope it may not be the last hundred pounds that you'll pick up."

Bramble pulled his leathern case out of his pilot jacket, and counted out ten ten-pound notes. "There, Jack, you ought to give me a receipt, for I signed for you at the India House."

"Oh, you've plenty of witnesses," replied I, as I collected the notes, and, giving them to Virginia, told her to take them to my mother, who was upstairs in her room.

"To tell you the truth, Jack, this two hundred pounds, which I earned so easily, has just come in the right time, and with it and my pilotage I shall now be able to do what I have long wished."

"And what's that?" inquired I. "Something for Bessy, I suppose."

"Exactly, Tom, it is something for Bessy; that is, it will be by-and-by. I've a good matter of money, which I've laid by year after year, and worked hard for it, too, and I never have known what to do with it. I can't understand the Funds and those sort of things, so I have kept some here and some there. Now, you know the grass land at the back of the cottage: it forms part of a tidy little farm, which is rented for seventy pounds a year, by a good man, and it has been for sale these three years; but I never could manage the price till now. When we go back to Deal, I shall try if I can buy that farm; for, you see, money may slip through a man's fingers in many ways, but land can't run away; and, as you say, it will be Bessy's one of these days—and more, too, if I can scrape it up."

"You are right, Bramble," said Peter Anderson, "and I am glad to hear that you can afford to buy the land."

"Why, there's money to be picked up by pilotage if you work hard, and aren't afraid of heavy ships," replied Bramble.

"Well, I never had a piece of land, and never shall have, I suppose," said my father. "I wonder how a man must feel who can stand on a piece of ground and say, 'This is my own!'"

"Who knows, father? it's not impossible but you may."

"Impossible! No, nothing's impossible, as they say on board of a man-of-war. It's not impossible to get an apology out of a midshipman, but it's the next thing to it."

"Why do they say that, father?"

"Because midshipmen are so saucy—why, I don't know. They haven't no rank as officers, nor so much pay as a petty officer, and yet they give themselves more airs than a lieutenant."

"I'll tell you why," replied Anderson. "A lieutenant takes care what he is about. He is an officer, and has something to lose; but a midshipman has nothing to lose, and therefore he cares about nothing. You can't break a midshipman, as the saying is, unless you break his neck. And they have necks which aren't easily broken, that's sartain."

"They do seem to me to have more lives than a cat," observed my father, who, after a pause, continued: "Well, I was saying how hard it was to get an apology out of a midshipman. I'll just tell you what took place on board of one ship I served in. There was a young midshipman on board who was mighty free with his tongue; he didn't care what he said to anybody, from the captain downward. He'd have his joke, come what would, and he'd set everybody a-laughing; punish him as much as you please, it was all the same. One day, when we were off Halifax Harbor, the master, who was a good-tempered fellow enough, but not overbright, was angry with this young chap for something that he had not done, and called him a 'confounded young bear,' upon which the youngster runs to the Jacob-ladder of the main rigging, climbs up, and as soon as he had gained the main rattlings he cries out, 'Well, if I'm a bear, you aren't fit to carry guts to a bear.' 'What, sir?' cried the master. 'Mutiny, by heavens! Up to the masthead, sir, directly.' 'Don't you see that I was going of my own accord?' replied the midshipman; for, you see, he knew that he would be sent there, so he went up the rigging on purpose. Well, this was rather a serious affair, and so the master reports it to the first lieutenant, who reports it to the captain, who sends for the youngster on the quarter-deck, at the time that the ship's company were at quarters. 'Mr. ——' (I forget his name), said the captain (drawing himself up to his full height, and perhaps an inch or two above it, as they say), 'you have been guilty of disrespect to your superior officer, in telling him that he was not fit to carry guts to a bear' (the captain could hardly help laughing). 'Now, sir,' continued he, recovering himself, 'I give you your choice: either you will make an apology to Mr. Owen on this quarter-deck, or you must quit my ship immediately.' 'Sir,' replied the midshipman, 'I don't think it quite fair that the master should first punish me himself and then complain to you afterward. He has taken the law into his own hands already by mastheading me for eight hours, and now he makes a complaint to you; but I am always ready to do as you wish, and, to please you, I will make an apology.' 'There is some truth in your observation,' replied the captain, 'and I have pointed the same out to the master; but still, this is a breach of discipline which cannot be passed over, and requires a public retraction before the whole ship's company. I therefore insist upon your retracting what you have said.' 'Certainly, sir,' replied the youngster. 'Mr. Owen,' continued he, turning to the master, 'I said that you were not fit to carry guts to a bear. I was in the wrong, and I retract with pleasure, for I am perfectly satisfied that you are fit to carry them.' 'Sir!' cried the captain. 'Oh, Captain G——!' interrupted the master, who did not take the joke, 'I'm perfectly satisfied. The young gentleman sees his error, and has retracted; I ask no more.' 'If you are satisfied, sir,' replied the captain, biting his lips, 'of course I have nothing more to say. Youngster, you may go to your duty, and recollect that you never again use such expressions to your superior officer,' and, said he in a low tone, 'I may add, never venture in my presence to make such an apology as that again.'"

I never saw old Anderson laugh so much as he did at this story of my father's. They continued to talk and smoke their pipes till about nine o'clock, when my father and he went to the hospital, and Bramble took possession of a bed which had been prepared for him in my mother's house.