Chapter IX: Part 9

Captain Drawlock was a man of about fifty years of age. Report said that in his youth he had been wild, and some of his contemporary commanders in the service were wont to plague him by narrating divers freaks of former days, the recollection of which would create any thing but a smile upon his face. Whether report and the other captains were correct or not in their assertions, Captain Drawlock was in appearance quite a different character at the time we introduce him. He was of sedate aspect, seldom smiled, and appeared to be wrapt up in the importance of the trust confided to him, particularly with respect to the young women who were sent out under his protection. He talked much of his responsibility, and divided the whole of his time between his chronometers and his young ladies; in both of which a trifling error was a source of irritation. Upon any deviation on the part of either, the first were rated carefully, the latter were _rated soundly_; considering the safety of the ship to be endangered on the one hand, and the character of his ship to be equally at stake on the other. It was maliciously observed that the latter were by far the more erratic of the two; and still more maliciously, that the austere behaviour on the part of Captain Drawlock was all pretence; that he was as susceptible as the youngest officer in the ship; and that the women found it out long before the voyage was completed.

It has been previously mentioned that all the passengers were on shore, except two, a Presbyterian divine and his wife, the expenses attending whose passage out were provided for by a subscription which had been put on foot by some of the serious people of Glasgow, who prayed fervently, and enlivened their devotions with most excellent punch. The worthy clergyman (for worthy he was) thought of little else but his calling, and was a sincere, enthusiastic man, who was not to be checked by any consideration in what he considered to be his duty; but although he rebuked, he rebuked mildly, and never lost his temper. Stern in his creed, which allowed no loophole by which the offender might escape, still there was a kindness and even a humility in his expostulation, which caused his zeal never to offend, and often to create serious reflection. His wife was a tall, handsome woman, who evidently had usurped an ascendancy over her husband in all points unconnected with his calling. She too was devout; but hers was not the true religion, for it had not charity for its basis. She was clever and severe; spoke seldom; but the few words which escaped from her lips were sarcastic in their tendency.

The passengers who still remained on shore were numerous. There was an old colonel, returning from a three years' furlough, the major part of which had been spent at Cheltenham. He was an Adonis of sixty, with yellow cheeks and white teeth; a man who had passed through life doing nothing; had risen in his profession without having seen service, except on one occasion, and of that circumstance he made the most. With a good constitution and happy temperament, constantly in society, and constantly in requisition, he had grown old without being aware of it, and considered himself as much an object of interest with the other sex as he was formerly when a gay captain of five-and-twenty, with good prospects. Amusing and easily amused, he had turned over the pages of the novel of life so uninterruptedly, that he had nearly arrived at the last page without being conscious that the finis was at hand.

Then there were two cadets from the college, full of themselves and their own consequence, fitted out with plenty of money and plenty of advice, both of which were destined to be thrown away. There was also a young writer, who talked of his mother Lady Elizabeth, and other high relations, who had despatched him to India, that he might be provided for by a cholera morbus or a lucrative post; a matter of perfect indifference to those who had sent him from England. Then, let me see, oh! there were two officers of a regiment at St. Helena, with tongues much longer than their purses; who in the forepart of the day condescended to talk nonsense to the fairer of the other sex, and in the evening to win a few pounds from the weaker of their own.

But all these were nobodies in the eyes of Captain. Drawlock; they were a part of his cargo, for which he was not responsible. The important part of his consignment were four unmarried women; three of them were young, good-looking, and poor; the other ill-favoured, old, but rich.

We must give precedence to wealth and age. The lady last mentioned was a Miss Tavistock, born and educated in the city, where her father had long been at the head of the well-established firm of Tavistock, Bottlecock, and Company, Dyers, Callenderers, and Scourers. As we before observed, she was the fortunate sole heiress to her father's accumulation, which might amount to nearly thirty thousand pounds; but had been little gifted by nature. In fact, she was what you may style most preposterously ugly; her figure was large and masculine; her hair red; and her face very deeply indented with the small pox. As a man, she would have been considered the essence of vulgarity; as a woman she was the quintessence: so much so, that she had arrived at the age of thirty-six without having, notwithstanding her property, received any attentions which could be construed into an offer. As we always seek most eagerly that which we find most difficult to obtain, she was possessed with _une fureur de se marier_; and, as a last resource, had resolved to go out to India, where she had been informed that "any thing white" was acceptable. This _passion_ for matrimony (for with her it had so become, if not a disease) occupied her whole thoughts; but she attempted to veil them by always pre tending to be extremely sensitive and refined; to be shocked at any thing which had the slightest allusion to the "increase and multiply;" and constantly lamented the extreme fragility of her constitution; to which her athletic bony frame gave so determined a lie, that her hearers were struck dumb with the barefaced assertion. Miss Tavistock had kept up a correspondence with an old schoolmate, who had been taken away early to join her friends in India, and had there married. As her hopes of matrimony dwindled away, so did her affection for her old friend appear, by her letters, to increase. At last, in answer to a letter, in which she declared that she would like to come out, and (as she had long made a resolution to continue single) adopt one of her friend's children, and pass her days with them, she received an answer, stating how happy they would be to receive her, and personally renew the old friendship, if indeed she could be persuaded to venture upon so long and venturous a passage. Whether this answer was sincere or not, Miss Tavistock took advantage of the invitation; and writing to intimate her speedy arrival, took her passage in the Bombay Castle.

The other three spinsters were sisters; Charlotte, Laura, and Isabel Revel, daughters of the Honourable Mr Revel, a _roue_ of excellent family, who had married for money, and had dissipated all his wife's fortune except the marriage settlement of 600 pounds per annum. Their mother was a selfish, short-sighted, manoeuvring woman, whose great anxiety was to form establishments for her daughters, or, in other terms, remove the expense of their maintenance from her own to the shoulders of other people, very indifferent whether the change might contribute to their happiness or not. Mr Revel may be said to have long deserted his family; he lived nobody knew where, and seldom called, unless it was to "raise the wind," upon his wife, who by intreaties and threats was necessitated to purchase his absence by a sacrifice of more than half her income. Of his daughters he took little notice, when he _did_ make his appearance; and if so, it was generally in terms more calculated to raise the blush of indignant modesty than to stimulate the natural feelings of affection of a daughter towards a parent. Their mother, whose income was not sufficient to meet the demands of a worthless husband, in addition to the necessary expenses attendant on three grown-up women, was unceasing in her attempts to get them off her hands: but we will introduce a conversation which took place between her and a sedate-looking, powdered old gentleman, who had long been considered as a "friend of the family," as thereby more light will perhaps be thrown upon her character.

"The fact is, my dear Mr Heaviside, that I hardly know what to do. Mr Revel, who is very intimate with the theatre people, proposed that they should try their fortune on the stage. He says (and indeed there is some truth in it) that, now-a-days, the best plan for a man to make himself popular, is to be sent to Newgate, and the best chance that a girl has of a coronet, is to become an actress. Well, I did not much like the idea; but at last I consented. Isabel, my youngest, is, you know, very handsome in her person, and sings remarkably well, and we arranged that she should go on first; and if she succeeded, that her sister Charlotte should follow her; but Isabel is of a very obstinate disposition, and when we proposed it to her, she peremptorily refused, and declared that she would go out as governess, or any thing rather than consent. I tried what coaxing would do, and her father tried threatening; but all was in vain. This was about a year ago, and she is now only seventeen; but she ever was a most decided, a most obstinate character."

"Very undutiful, indeed, ma'am; she might have been a duchess before this:--a very foolish girl, indeed, ma'am," observed the gentleman.

"Well, Mr Heaviside, we then thought that Charlotte, our eldest, had the next best chance of success. Although not by any means so good-looking as her sister; indeed, to tell you the truth, Mr Heaviside, which I would not do to every body,--but I know that you can keep a secret, Charlotte is now nearly thirty years old, and her sister Laura only one year younger."

"Is it possible, madam!" replied Mr Heaviside, looking at the lady with well feigned astonishment.

"Yes, indeed," replied the lady, who had forgotten that in telling her daughters' secrets, she had let out her own; "but I was married so young, so very young, that I am almost ashamed to think of it. Well, Mr Heaviside, as I was saying, although not so good--looking as her sister, Mr Revel, who is a good judge in these matters, declared that by the theatre lights Charlotte would be reckoned a very fine woman. We proposed it to her, and, after a little pouting, she consented; the only difficulty was, whether she should attempt tragedy or comedy. Her features were considered rather too sharp for comedy, and her figure not quite tall enough for tragedy. She herself preferred tragedy, which decided the point; and Mr Revel, who knows all the actors, persuaded Mr Y--- (you know whom I mean, the great tragic actor) to come here, and give his opinion of her recitation. Mr Y--- was excessively polite; declared that she was a young lady of great talent; but that a slight lisp, which she has, unfitted her most decidedly for tragedy. Of course it was abandoned for comedy, which she studied some time; and when we considered her competent, Mr Revel had interest enough to induce the great Mr M--- to come and give his opinion. Charlotte performed her part as I thought remarkably well, and when she had finished she left the room, that Mr M--- might not be checked by her presence from giving me his unbiassed opinion."

"Which was favourable, ma'am, I presume; for, if not fitted for the one, she naturally must have been fit for the other."

"So I thought," replied the lady, to this polite _non sequitur_ of the gentleman. "But Mr M--- is a very odd man, and, if I must say it, not very polite. What do you think, Mr Heaviside, as soon as she left the room he rose from his chair, and, twisting up the corner of his mouth, as he looked me in the face, he said, `Madam, it is my opinion that your daughter's comedy, whenever she makes her appearance on the boards, will, to use a Yankee expression, _be most particularly damned_! I wish you a very good morning.'"

"Very rude indeed, madam; most excessively unpolite of Mr M---. I should not have thought it possible."

"Well, Mr Heaviside, as for Laura; poor thing! you are aware that she is not quite so clever as she might be; she never had any memory: when a child, she never could recollect the evening hymn if she missed it two nights running; so that acting was out of the question with her. So that all my hopes of their forming a splendid establishment by that channel have vanished. Now, my dear Mr Heaviside, what would you propose?"

"Why, really, ma'am, it is so difficult to advise in these times; but, if anxious to dispose of your daughters, why not send them out to India?"

"We have thought of it several times; for Mr Revel has an uncle there unmarried, and they say very rich. He is a colonel in the Bombay marine, I believe."

"More probably in the Bengal army, ma'am."

"Well, I believe you are right; but I know it's in the Company's service. But the old gentleman hates my husband, and will not have any thing to say to him. I did write a very civil letter to him, in which I just hinted how glad one or two of my daughters would be to take care of his house; but he never condescended to give me an answer. I am told that he is a very unpleasant man."

"A difficult thing to advise, ma'am, very difficult indeed! but I can tell you a circumstance which occurred about five years ago, when a similar application to a relative in India was made by a friend of mine. It was no more attended to than yours has been. Nevertheless, as it was supposed the answer had miscarried, the young lady was sent out to her relative with a decent equipment, and a letter of introduction. Her relation was very much surprised: but what could he do? he could not permit the young lady to remain without a roof over her head; so he received her; and as he did not like to say how he had been treated, he held his tongue. The young lady in the course of three months, made a very good match; and is, to my knowledge, constantly sending home India shawls and other handsome presents to her mother."

"Indeed, Mr Heaviside, then do you advise--"

"It is difficult, extremely difficult to advise upon so nice a point. I only state the fact, my dear madam: I should think the colonel must feel the want of female society; but, God bless me! it's nearly two o'clock.--Good morning, my dear Mrs Revel--good morning."

"Good morning, my dear Mr Heaviside; it's very kind of you to call in this sociable way, and chat an hour or two.--Good morning."

The result of the above conversation was a consultation between Mr Revel and his wife upon their first meeting. Mr Revel was delighted with the plan, not so much caring at the disposal of his daughters as he was pleased with the idea of annoying his uncle, from whom he, at one time, had had great expectations: but, as it was necessary to be circumspect, especially with Isabel, Mr Revel took the opportunity of a subsequent visit to state that he had received a letter from his uncle in India, wishing one of his daughters to go out and live with him. In a few months he read another letter (composed by himself, and copied in another hand), earnestly desiring that they might all come out to him, as it would be much to their advantage. The reluctance of the two eldest was removed by pointing out the magnificent establishments they might secure: the consent of Isabel by a statement of difficulty and debt on the part of her parents, which would end in beggary if not relieved from the burden of their support.

By insuring her life, a sum of money sufficient for their outfit and passage was raised on Mrs Revel's marriage settlement; and the three Miss Revels were thus shipped off by their affectionate parents, as a "venture," in the Bombay Castle.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

"Thus the rich vessel moves in trim array,
Like some fair virgin on her bridal day:
Thus like a swan, she cleaves the watery plain,
The pride and wonder of the Aegean main.

"The natives, while the ship departs the land,
Ashore, with admiration gazing stand:
Majestically slow before the breeze,
In silent pomp, she marches on the seas."
FALCONER.

Much to the satisfaction of Captain Drawlock, the chronometers and the ladies were safe on board, and the Bombay Castle proceeded to the Downs, where she was joined by the purser, charged with the despatches of the august directors. Once upon a time a director was a very great man, and the India board a very great board. There must have been a very great many plums in the pudding, for in this world people do not take trouble for nothing; and until latter years, how eagerly, how perseveringly was this situation applied for--what supplicating advertisements--what fawning and wheedling promises of attention to the interests of the proprietors--your "voices, good people!" But now nobody is so particularly anxious to be a director, because another board "bigger than he" has played the kittiwake, and forced it to disgorge for the consumption of its superior,--I mean the Board of Control: the reader has probably heard of it; the board which, not content with the European residents in India being deprived of their proudest birthright, "the liberty of the press," would even prevent them from having justice awarded to them, by directing two tame elephants (thereby implying two --- ---) to be placed on each side of a wild one (thereby implying an honest and conscientious man). Notwithstanding all which, for the present, the tongue, the ears and the eyes are permitted to be made discreet use of, although I believe that the new charter is to have a clause introduced to the contrary.

The prevalent disease of the time we live in is ophthalmia of intellect, affecting the higher classes. Monarchs, stone-blind, have tumbled headlong from their thrones, and princes have been conducted by their subjects out of their principalities. The aristocracy are purblind, and cannot distinctly decipher the "signs of the times." The hierarchy cannot discover why people would have religion at a reduced price: in fact, they are all blind, and will not perceive that an enormous mass, in the shape of public opinion, hangs over their heads and threatens to annihilate them. Forgetting that kings, and princes, and lords, spiritual or temporal, have all been raised to their various degrees of exaltation by public opinion alone, they talk of legitimacy, of vested rights, and Deuteronomy.--Well, if there is to be a general tumble, thank God, I can't fall far!

We left the Bombay Castle in the Downs, where she remained until joined by several other India vessels. On the arrival of a large frigate, who had orders to escort them as far as the Island of St. Helena, they all weighed, and bore down the Channel before a strong South East gale. The first ten days of a voyage there is seldom much communication between those belonging to the ship and the passengers; the former are too much occupied in making things shipshape, and the latter with the miseries of sea-sickness. An adverse gale in the Bay of Biscay, with which they had to contend, did not at all contribute to the recovery of the digestive powers of the latter; and it was not until a day or two before the arrival of the convoy at Madeira that the ribbon of a bonnet was to be seen fluttering in the breeze which swept the decks of the Bombay Castle.

The first which rose up from the quarter-deck hatchway was one that encircled the head of Mrs Ferguson, the wife of the presbyterian divine, who crawled up the ladder, supported on one side by her husband, and on the other by the assiduous Captain Drawlock.

"Very well done, ma'am, indeed!" said the captain, with an encouraging smile, as the lady seized hold of the copper stanchions which surrounded the sky-lights, to support herself, when she had gained the deck. "You're a capital sailor, and have by your conduct set an example to the other ladies, as I have no doubt your husband does to the gentlemen. Now allow me to offer you my arm."

"Will you take mine also, my dear," said Mr Ferguson.

"No, Mr Ferguson," replied the lady, tartly; "I think it is enough for you to take care of yourself. Recollect your Scripture proverb of `the blind leading the blind.' I have no inclination to tumble into one of those pits," added she, pointing to the hatchway.

Captain Drawlock very civilly dragged the lady to the weather-side of the quarter-deck, where, after in vain attempting to walk, she sat down upon one of the carronade slides.

"The fresh air will soon revive you, ma'am; you'll be much better directly," observed the attentive captain. "I beg your pardon one moment, but there is another lady coming out of the cuddy."

The cabins abaft the cuddy or dining-room were generally occupied by the more distinguished and wealthy passengers (a proportionate sum being charged extra for them). The good people of Glasgow, with a due regard to economy, had not run themselves into such unnecessary expenses for the passage of Mr and Mrs Ferguson. Mr Revel, aware of the effect produced by an appearance of wealth, had taken one of them for his daughters. The other had been secured by Miss Tavistock, much to the gratification of the captain, who thus had his unmarried ladies and his chronometers both immediately under his own eye.

The personage who had thus called away the attention of the captain was Isabel Revel, whom, although she has already been mentioned, it will be necessary to describe more particularly to the reader.

Isabel Revel was now eighteen years old, endowed with a mind so superior, that had not her talents been checked by a natural reserve, she might have stepped from the crowd, and have been hailed as a genius. She had been brought up by a foolish mother, and had in her earlier years been checked by her two insipid sisters, who assumed over her an authority which their age alone could warrant. Seldom, if ever, permitted to appear when there was company, that she might not "spoil the market" of the eldest, she had in her solitude applied much to reading, and thus had her mind been highly cultivated.

The conduct of her father entitled him to no respect; the heartlessness of her mother to no esteem; the tyranny of her sisters, to no affection; yet did she strive to render all. Until the age of sixteen she had been the Cinderella of the family, during which period of seclusion she had learned to think and to act for herself.

Her figure was a little above the middle size, light and elegant; her features beautiful, with an expression of seriousness, arising probably from speaking little and reflecting much. Yet she possessed a mind ardent and enthusiastic, which often bore her away in animated discourse, until the eye of admiration fixed upon her, would suddenly close her lips, for her modesty and her genius were at perpetual variance.

It is well known to most of my readers that woman is a problem; but it may not be as well known that now-a-days, she is a _mathematical problem_. Yet so it is. As in the latter you have certain known quantities given by which you are to find a quantity unknown, so in a lady you have the hand, the foot, the mouth, etcetera, apparent; and 'tis only by calculation, now that modern dresses are made so full, that you can arrive at a just estimate of her approach to total perfection. All good arithmeticians, as they scrutinised the outward and the visible of Isabel Revel, were perfectly assured as to her quotient. But if I talked for hours, I could say no more than that she was one of those ideal images created in the dream of youth and poetry, fairly embodied in flesh and blood. As her father had justly surmised, could she have been persuaded to have tried her fortune on the stage, she had personal attractions, depth of feeling, and vivacity of mind to have rendered her one of the very first in a profession, to excel in which, perhaps, there is more correct judgment and versatility of talent required than in any other, and would have had a fair prospect of obtaining that coronet which has occasionally been the reward of those fair dames who "stoop to conquer."

Mr Revel, who had been made acquainted with the customs on board of East India ships, had been introduced to Mrs Ferguson, and had requested her to take upon herself the office of _chaperone_ to his daughters, during the passage; a nominal charge indeed, yet considered to be etiquette. Mrs Ferguson, pleased with the gentleman--like demeanour and personal appearance of Mr Revel, and perhaps at the same time not sorry to have an authority to find fault, had most graciously acquiesced, and the three Miss Revels were considered to be under her protection.

As I said before, Miss Isabel Revel made her appearance not unattended, for she was escorted by Doctor Plausible, the surgeon of the ship. And now I must again digress while I introduce that gentleman. I never shall get that poor girl from the cuddy-door.

Doctor Plausible had been summoned to prescribe for Miss Laura Revel, who suffered extremely from the motion of the vessel, and the remedies which she had applied to relieve her uneasiness. Miss Laura Revel had been told by somebody, previous to her embarkation, that the most effectual remedy for sea-sickness was gingerbread. In pursuance of the advice received, she had provided herself with ten or twelve squares of this commodity, about one foot by eighteen inches, which squares she had commenced upon as soon as she came on board, and had never ceased to swallow, notwithstanding various interruptions. The more did her stomach reject it, the more did she force it down, until, what, with deglutition, _et vice versa_, she had been reduced to a state of extreme weakness, attended with fever.

How many panaceas have been offered without success for two evils-- sea-sickness and hydrophobia! and between these two there appears to be a link, for sea-sickness as surely ends in hydrophobia, as hydrophobia does in death. The sovereign remedy prescribed, when I first went to sea, was a piece of fat pork, tied to a string to be swallowed, and then pulled up again; the dose to be repeated until effective. I should not have mentioned this well-known remedy, as it has long been superseded by other nostrums, were it not that this maritime prescription has been the origin of two modern improvements in the medical catalogue--one is the stomach pump, evidently borrowed from this simple engine; the other is the very successful prescription now in vogue, to those who are weak in the digestive organs, to eat fat bacon for breakfast, which I have no doubt was suggested to Doctor Vance, from what he had been eye-witness to on board of a man-of-war.

But here I am digressing again from Doctor Plausible to Dr Vance. Reader, I never lose the opportunity of drawing a moral; and what an important one is here! Observe how difficult it is to regain the right path when once you have quitted it. Let my error be a warning to you in your journey through life, and my digressions preserve you from diverging from the beaten track, which, as the Americans would say, leads _clean slick_ on to happiness and peace.

Doctor Plausible was a personable man, apparently about five-and-thirty years old: he wore a little powder in his hair, black silk stockings, and knee-breeches. In this I consider Doctor Plausible was right; the above look much more scientific than Wellington trousers; and much depends upon the exterior. He was quite a ladies' man; talked to them about their extreme sensibility, their peculiar fineness of organic structure, their delicacy of nerves; and soothed his patients more by flattery than by physic. Having discovered that Miss Laura was not inclined to give up her gingerbread, he immediately acknowledged its virtues, but recommended that it should be cut into extremely small dice, and allowed, as it were, to melt, away upon the tongue; stating, that her digestive organs were so refined and delicate, that they would not permit them selves to be loaded with any large particles, even of farinaceous compound. Isabel Revel, who had been informed that Mrs Ferguson was on deck, expressed a wish to escape from the confined atmosphere of the cabin; and Doctor Plausible, as soon as he had prescribed for Miss Laura, offered Miss Isabel his services; which, for want of a better, perhaps, were accepted.

The ship at this time had a great deal of motion. The gale was spent; but the sea created by the violence of the wind had not yet subsided, and the waves continued still to rise and fall again, like the panting breasts of men who have just desisted from fierce contention. Captain Drawlock hastened over to receive his charge from the hands of the medical attendant; and paying Isabel some compliments on her appearance, was handing her over to the weather-side, where Mrs Ferguson was seated, when a sea of larger dimensions than usual careened the ship to what the sailors term a "heavy lurch." The decks were wet and slippery. Captain Drawlock lost his footing and was thrown to leeward. Isabel would have most certainly kept him company; and indeed was already under weigh for the lee-scuppers, had not it been that Newton Forster, who stood near, caught her round the waist, and prevented her from falling.

It certainly was a great presumption to take a young lady round the waist previous to any introduction; but, at sea, we are not very particular; and if we do perceive that a lady is in danger of a severe fall, we do not stand upon etiquette. What is more remarkable, we generally find that the ladies excuse our unpolished manners, either upon the score of our good intentions, or because there is nothing so very impertinent in them after all. Certain it is, that Isabel, as soon as she had recovered from her alarm, thanked Newton Forster, with a sweet smile, for his timely aid, as she again took the arm of Captain Drawlock, who escorted her to the weather-side of the quarter-deck.

"I have brought you one of your _protegees_, Mrs Ferguson," said Captain Drawlock. "How do you feel, Miss Revel?"

"Like most young ladies, sir, a little giddy," replied Isabel. "I hope you were not hurt, Captain Drawlock; I'm afraid that you fell by paying more attention to me than to yourself."

"My duty, Miss Revel. Allow me to add, my pleasure," replied the captain, bowing.

"That's very politely said, Captain Drawlock," replied Isabel.

"Almost too polite, I think," observed Mrs Ferguson (who was out of humour at not being the first object of attention), "considering that Captain Drawlock is a married man, with seven children." The captain looked glum, and Miss Revel observing it, turned the conversation, by inquiring--"Who was that gentleman who saved me from falling?"

"Mr Newton Forster, one of the mates of the vessel. Would you like to walk Miss Revel or remain where you are?"

"Thank you, I will stay with Mrs Ferguson."

The gentlemen passengers had as yet but occasionally appeared on deck. Men generally suffer more from the distressing sickness than women. As soon, however, as the news had been communicated below, that the ladies were on deck, some of the gentlemen immediately repaired to their trunks, to make themselves presentable, and then hastened on deck. The first on deck was the old colonel, who tottered up the hatchway, and by dint of seizing rope after rope, at last succeeded in advancing his lines to within hearing range of Mrs Ferguson, to whom he had been formally introduced. He commenced by lamenting his unfortunate sufferings, which had prevented him from paying those attentions, ever to him a source of enjoyment and gratification; but he was a martyr-- quite a martyr; never felt any sensation which could be compared to it, except when he was struck in the breast with a spent ball, in the battle of ---; that their appearance had made him feel revived already; that as the world would be a dark prison without the sun, so would a ship be without the society of ladies; commenced a description of Calcutta, and then--made a hasty retreat to the lee-gangway.

The young writer next made his appearance, followed by two boys, who were going out as cadets; the first, with a new pair of grey kid gloves, the others in their uniforms. The writer descanted long upon his own miseries, without any inquiry or condolement for the sufferings of the ladies. The cadets said nothing; but stared so much at Isabel Revel, that she dropped her veil.

The ladies had been about a quarter of an hour on deck, when the sun, which had not shown itself for two days, gleamed through the clouds. Newton, who was officer of the watch, and had been accustomed when with Mr Berecroft, to work a chronometer, interrupted the captain, who was leaning on the carronade, talking to Mrs Ferguson.

"The sun is out, and the horizon pretty clear, sir; you may have sights for the chronometers."

"Yes, indeed," said the captain, looking up; "be quick, and fetch my sextant. You'll excuse me, ladies, but the chronometers must be attended to."

"In preference to us, Captain Drawlock?--Fie for shame!" replied Mrs Ferguson.

"Why, not exactly," replied the captain, "not exactly; but the fact is that the sun may go in again."

"And we can stay out, I presume?" replied Isabel, laughing. "I think, Mrs Ferguson, we ought to go in too."

"But, my dear young lady, if the sun goes in, I shall not get a _sight_!"

"And if we go in, you will not get a sight either," replied Mrs Ferguson.

"Between the two, sir," observed Newton, handing Captain Drawlock his sextant, "you stand a chance of losing both. There's no time to spare; I'm all ready."

Captain Drawlock walked to the break of the gangways, so far concealed from the ladies that they could not perceive that he was looking through his sextant, the use of which they did not comprehend, having never seen one before. Newton stood at the capstern, with his eyes fixed on the watch.

"Captain Drawlock," said Mrs Ferguson, calling to him, "allow me to observe--"

"_Stop_," cried Captain Drawlock, in a loud voice. Newton, to whom this was addressed, noted the time.

"Good heavens what can be the matter;" said Mrs Ferguson, with astonishment, to those near her; "how excessively rude of Captain Drawlock;--what can it be?" continued she, addressing the colonel, who had rejoined them.

"Really, madam, I cannot tell; but it is my duty to inquire," replied the colonel, who, going up to Captain Drawlock, commenced--"Have the ladies already so fallen in your estimation--"

"Forty degrees!" cried Captain Drawlock, who was intent upon his sextant. "Excuse me, sir, just now."

"When will you be at leisure, sir?" resumed the colonel, haughtily.

"Twenty-six minutes," continued the captain, reading off his sextant.

"A little sooner, I should hope, sir," retorted the colonel.

"Forty-five seconds."

"This is really quite insufferable! Miss Revel, we had better go in."

"Stop!" again cried Captain Drawlock, in a loud voice.

"Stop!" repeated Mrs Ferguson, angrily; "surely we are not slaves."

Newton, who heard what was passing, could not repress his laughter.

"Indeed, I am sure there must be some mistake, Mrs Ferguson," observed Isabel. "Wait a little."

"Forty-six minutes, thirty seconds," again read off the captain. "Capital sights both! but the sun is behind that dark cloud, and we shall have no more of his presence."

"Nor of ours, I assure you, sir," said Mrs Ferguson, rising, as Captain Drawlock walked from the gangway to the capstern.

"Why, my dear madam, what is the matter?"

"We have not been accustomed to such peremptory language, sir. It may be the custom on board ship to holla `stop' to ladies when they address you, or express a wish to leave the deck."

"My dearest madam, I do assure you, upon my honour, that you are under a mistake. I ordered Mr Forster to stop, not you."

"Mr Forster!" replied the lady; "why, he was standing still the whole time!"

It was not until the whole system of taking sights for chronometers had been satisfactorily explained that the lady recovered her good-humour. While the captain was thus employed with Mrs Ferguson, Newton, although it was not necessary, explained the mystery to Miss Revel, who, with Mrs Ferguson, soon after quitted the deck.

The sights taken proved the ship to be to the eastward of her reckoning. The other ships in company had made the same discovery, and the course was altered one quarter of a point. In two days they dropped their anchor in Funchal Roads.

But I must for a little while recross the Bay of Biscay, and with my reader look into the chambers of Mr John Forster.

Look
Upon this child I saved her, must not leave
Her life to chance; but point me out some nook
Of safety, where she less may shrink and grieve.
...
This child, who parentless, is therefore mine.
BYRON.

A few minutes after Newton had quitted the chambers of his uncle the clerk made his appearance, announcing to Mr John Forster that a gentleman requested to speak to him.

"I asked the gentleman's name, sir," observed the clerk, shutting to the door, "but he did not choose to give it. He has a little girl with him."

"Very well, Scratton, the little girl cannot concern me," replied the old lawyer; "ask him to walk in;"--and he again conned over the brief, not choosing to lose the minute which might elapse before he was again to be interrupted. The door was reopened, and Edward Forster, with Amber holding him by the hand, entered the room.

"Your servant, sir. Scratton, a chair--two chairs, Scratton. I beg your pardon, young lady."

When the clerk had retired, Mr John Forster commenced as usual. "Now, sir, may I request the favour of asking your business with me?"

"You do not recollect me; nor am I surprised at it, as it is fifteen years since we last met. Time and suffering, which have worn me to a skeleton, have also worn out the remembrance of a brother. I am Edward Forster."

"Edward Forster!--humph! Well, I did not recollect you; but I'm very glad to see you, brother. Very strange never have heard of one of my family for years, and now they all turn up at once! No sooner get rid of one than up starts another. Nicholas came from the Lord knows where, the other day."

Edward Forster, who was better acquainted with his brother's character than Newton, took no notice of the abruptness of his remarks, but replied:--

"Nicholas! Is he then alive? I shall be delighted to see him."

"Humph!" replied John, "I was delighted to get rid of him. Take care of your watch or spectacles when you meet him."

"Indeed, brother! I trust he is not such a character."

"But he is a character, I can tell you; not what you suppose--he's honest enough. Let me see if my memory serves me, brother Edward, we last met when you were passing through London on your way to ---, having been invalided, and having obtained a pension of forty pounds per annum for a severe wound received in action. And pray, brother, where have you been ever since?"

"At the same spot, from which I probably never should have been induced to remove, had it not been for the sake of this little girl who is now with me."

"And pray who may be that little girl? is she your daughter?"

"Only by adoption."

"Humph, brother! for a half-pay lieutenant that appears rather an expensive whim!--bad enough to maintain children of our own begetting."

"You say true," replied Edward; "but if in this instance I have incurred an expense and responsibility, it must be considered to be more my misfortune than my fault." Edward Forster then entered into the particulars connected with Amber's rescue. "You must acknowledge, brother John," observed Edward, as he closed his narrative, "that I could not well have acted otherwise; you would not have yourself."

"Humph! I don't know that; but this I do know, that you had better have stayed at home!"

"Perhaps so, considering the forlorn prospects of the child; but we must not judge. The same Providence which willed that she should be so miraculously saved, also willed that I should be her protector;--why otherwise did the dog lay her at my feet?"

"Because it had been taught to `fetch and carry,' I suppose: but, however, brother Edward, I have no right to question your conduct. If the girl is as good as she is pretty, why all the better for her; but, as I am rather busy, let me ask if you have any more to say to me?"

"I have, John; and the discourse we have had is preliminary. I am here with a child, forced upon me I may say, but still as dear to me as if she were mine own. You must be aware that I have nothing but my pension and half-pay to subsist upon. I can save nothing. My health is undermined and my life precarious. Last winter I never expected to quit my bed again and, as I lay in it, the thought naturally occurred of the forlorn and helpless state in which this poor little girl would be in case of my decease. In a lonely cottage,--without money--without family or friends to apply to--without any one near her being made acquainted with her unfortunate history. What would have become of her? It was this reflection which determined me, if my life was spared, as soon as my health would permit, to come to you, the only relative I was certain of still having in the world, that I might acquaint you with her existence, and, with her history, confide to you the few articles of dress which she wore when rescued, and which may eventually lead to her recognition:--a case of extreme doubt and difficulty, I grant; but the ways of Providence are mysterious, and her return to the arms of her friends will not be more wonderful than her preservation on that dreadful night. Brother! I never have applied to you in my own behalf, although conscious how ample are your means--and I never will; but I do now plead in favour of this dear child. Worn out as I am, my pilgrimage on earth can be but short; and if you would smooth the pillow of a dying brother, promise him now that you will extend your bounty to this poor orphan, when I'm no more!"

Edward Forster's voice was tremulous at the close of his appeal, and his brother appeared to be affected. There was a silence of a minute, when the customary "humph!" was ejaculated, and John Forster then continued: "A very foolish business, brother--very foolish indeed. When Nicholas and his son came here the other day and applied to me--why, it was all very well there was relationship;--but really, to put another man's child upon me!"

"Not while it pleases Heaven to spare _my_ life, brother."

"`May you live a thousand years!' then, as the Spanish say; but, however, brother Edward, as you say, the poor thing must not starve; so, if I am to take care of a child of another man's begetting, as soon as you are dead, I can only say, it will very much increase my sorrow at your loss. Come here, little one: What's your name?"

"Amber."

"Amber! who the devil gave you that fool's name?"

"I did, brother," replied Edward, "I thought it appropriate."

"Humph! really can't see why. Why did you not call her Sukey, or some name fit for a Christian? Amber! Amber's a gum, is it not? Stop, let's see what Johnson says."

The lawyer went to a case of books which were in the next room, and returned with a quarto.

"Now," said he, seating himself; "AG--AL--AM--Ambassador--Ambassadress-- Amber! humph! here it is, `A yellow transparent substance of a gummous or bituminous consistence, but of a resinous taste, and a smell like oil of turpentine; chiefly found in the Baltic sea or the coast of Prussia.' Humph! `Some have imagined it to consist of the tears of birds; others the'--humph!--`of a beast; others the scum of the Lake Cephesis, near the Atlantic; others a congelation in some fountains, where it is found swimming like pitch.' Really, brother," continued the lawyer, fixing his eyes on the little girl, and shutting the book, "I can't see the analogy."

"Be her godfather, my dear brother, and call her any name you please."

"Humph!"

"Pray, papa," said Amber, turning to Edward Forster, "what's the meaning of humph?"

"Humph!" repeated the lawyer, looking hard at Amber.

"It implies yes or no, as it may be," replied Edward Forster, smiling.

"I never heard any one say it before, papa. You're not angry with me, sir?" continued Amber, turning round to John Forster.

"No, not angry, little girl; but I'm too busy to talk to you--or indeed with you, brother Edward. Have you any thing more to say?"

"Nothing, my dear brother, if I have your promise."

"Well, you have it; but what am I to do with her, God only knows! I wish you had kept better hours. You mentioned some clothes which might identify her to her relations; pray let me have them, for I shall have the greatest pleasure in restoring her to them, as soon as possible, after she is once in my hands."

"Here they are, brother," replied Edward, taking a small packet from his coat-pocket: "you had better take charge of them now; and may God bless you for having relieved my mind from so heavy a load!"

"Humph! by taking it on my own shoulders," muttered John, as he walked to the iron safe, to deposit the packet of linen; then returning to the table, "Have you any thing more to say, brother?"

"Only to ask you where I may find my brother Nicholas?"

"That I can't tell; my nephew told me somewhere down the river; but, it's a long way from here to the Nore. Nephew's a fine lad; I sent him off to the East Indies."

"I am sorry then that I have no chance of seeing him:--but you are busy, brother?"

"I have told you so three times, as plain as I could speak?"

"I will no longer trespass on your time. We return home to-morrow morning; and, as I cannot expect ever to see you again, God bless you, my dear John! and farewell, I am afraid I may say, in this world at least, farewell for ever!"

Edward held out his hand to his brother. It was taken with considerable emotion. "Farewell, brother, farewell!--I'll not forget."

"Good-bye, sir," said Amber, going close up to John Forster.

"Good-bye, my little girl," replied he, looking earnestly in her face; and then, as if thawing towards her, as he scanned her beautiful and expressive features, removing his spectacles and kissing her, "Good-bye."

"Oh! papa," cried Amber, as she went out of the room, "he kissed me!"

"Humph!" said John Forster, as the door closed upon them.

The spectacles were put on, and the reading of the brief immediately continued.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

_Strickland_.
"These doings in my house distract me.
I met a fine gentleman, when I inquired who
He was--why, he came to Clarinda. I met
A footman too, and he came to Clarinda.
My wife had the character of a virtuous
Woman--"
_Suspicious Husband_.

"Let us no more contend
Each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive
In offices of love, how we may lighten
Each other's burden in our share of woe."
MILTON.

I do not know a spot on the globe which astonishes and delights, upon your first landing, as the island of Madeira. The voyager embarks, and is in all probability confined to his cabin, suffering under the dreadful protraction of seasickness. Perhaps he has left England in the gloomy close of the autumn, or the frigid concentration of an English winter. In a week, or even in a shorter period, he again views that terra firma which he had quitted with regret, and which in his sufferings he would have given half that he possessed to regain. When he lands upon the island, what a change! Winter has become summer, the naked trees which be left are exchanged for the most luxuriant and varied foliage, snow and frost for warmth and splendour; the scenery of the temperate zone for the profusion and magnificence of the tropics; fruit which he had never before seen, supplies for the table unknown to him; a bright sky, a glowing sun, hills covered with vines, a deep-blue sea, a picturesque and novel costume; all meet and delight the eye, just at the precise moment, when to have been landed even upon a barren island would have been considered as a luxury. Add to all this, the unbounded hospitality of the English residents, a sojourn too short to permit satiety and then is it to be wondered that the island of Madeira is a "green spot" in the memory of all those who land there, or that they quit it with regret?

The Bombay Castle had not been two hours at anchor before the passengers had availed themselves of an invitation from one of the English residents, and were quartered in a splendid house, which hooked upon a square and one of the principal churches in the city of Funchal. While the gentlemen amused themselves at the extensive range of windows with the novelty of the scene, and the ladies retired to their apartments to complete the hasty toilet of their disembarkation, Captain Drawlock was very busy in the counting-house below, with the master of the house. There were so many pipes of Madeira for the Honourable Company; so many for the directors' private cellars, besides many other commissions for friends, which Captain Drawlock had undertaken to execute; for at that period Madeira wine had not been so calumniated as it latterly has been.

A word upon this subject.--I am a mortal enemy to every description of humbug; and I believe there is as much in the medical world as in any other. Madeira wine had for a century been in high and deserved reputation, when on a sudden some fashionable physician discovers that it contained more acid than sherry. Whether he was a sleeping partner in some Spanish house, or whether he had received a present of a few pipes of sherry, that he might turn the scale of public favour towards that wine, I know not; but certain it is, that it became fashionable with all medical gentlemen to prescribe sherry; and when once any thing becomes fashionable, _c'est une affaire decide_.

I do not pretend to be much of a pathologist; but on reading Mr F---'s analysis on the component parts of wine, I observed that in one hundred parts there are perhaps twenty-two parts of acid in Madeira, and nineteen in sherry; so that, in fact, if you reduce your glass of Madeira wine, just _one sip_ in quantity, you will imbibe no more acid than in a full glass of sherry; and when we consider the variety of acids in sugar and other compounds, which abound in culinary preparations, the fractional quantity upon which has been grounded the abuse of Madeira wine, appears to be most ridiculous.

But if not a pathologist, I have a most decided knowledge of what is good wine; and if the gout should some day honour me with a visit, I shall at least have the consolation to know that I have by potation most honestly _earned_ it.