<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI.</SPAN><br/> <span class="small1">AFTER SEVEN YEARS.</span></h2>
<p>From Exeter to Barnstaple, we crowded sail with horses' tails,
and a heavy sea of mud leaping and breaking under the forefoot
of our coach. Also two boys on the horses, dressed like
any admirals, one with horn on his starboard thigh, and the
other with jack-boots only. It was my privilege to sit up in
the foretop, as might be, with Coxswain Toms in the mizentop,
and the Captain down in the waist by himself. We made
about six knots an hour perhaps; whenever we got jerks
enough to keep up the swearing.</p>
<p>But the impatience of our Captain showed how very young
he was, now at forty years of age, according to chronology,
though nobody would believe it! Surely he might have
waited well, after so long waiting; and if he could not chew
a quid—which breeds a whole brood of patience—at any rate
he had fine pipes, and with common-sense might have kindled
them. I handed him down my flint and steel, and my hat to
make a job of it; but he shut up the glass, and cried, "More
sail!" in a voice that almost frightened me.</p>
<p>It was as dark as main-top-tree holes by the time we got to
Barnstaple; but we found no less than four fine lamps of
sperm-oil burning, and tallow-candles here and there, in shops
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_306">[Pg 306]</SPAN></span>
of spirit and enterprise. The horses were stalled, and the baggage
housed in a very fine inn, looking up the street, and then
the Captain told Toms and me to house up our jibs, while he
went out. This we were only too glad to do after so much
heavy rolling upon <i>terra firma</i>, as those landsmen love to call
it, in spite of all earthquakes, such as killed thirty thousand
Italian people, when first I took to the sea again.</p>
<p>But before long, Toms and I began to feel that we had no
right to abandon our commander so. Here we were in a town
that hardly ever saw a royal sailor, and could not be supposed
to know for a moment what his duties were, or even to take a
proper pride in seeing him borne harmless. And here was our
Captain gone out in the dark, with his cocked-hat on, and his
gold lace shining wherever a tallow-candle hung; also with a
pleasant walk as if he were full of prize-money; though the
Evil One had so patched up a peace that we never clinked a
halfpenny.</p>
<p>When old Jerry Toms and my humble self had scarcely gone
through three glasses, he said to me, and I said to him, that
we were carrying on too coolly in a hostile town like this.
And just at this moment the Navy was down in popular estimation;
for such is the public urgency, whenever we are paid
for, without being killed or wounded. Therefore Jerry and I
were bound to steer with a small helm, and double the watch.</p>
<p>We beat up the enemy's quarters calmly, finding none to
challenge us; and then we got tidings of our Captain out upon
the Braunton road. Jerry was a man of valour, and I could
not hang back to be far behind him; and we had been concerned
in storming many savage villages. So we stormed this
little town, carrying our hangers, and nobody denied us. But
before we were half a mile entirely out of hearing, the mayor
arose from his supper, and turned out the watch, and beat the
drums, and bred such alarm that in one street there were three
more people alive ere morning.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Jerry Toms and I shaped our course for the
Braunton road, and hit it, and held on to it. And, because no
man, in strange places, knows what the air may contain for
him, Jerry sang a song, and I struck chorus; with such an
effect that the cows were frightened all along the hedgerows.
This put us quite on our legs again; and a more deeply sober
couple could not, or at any rate need not, be seen, than that
which myself and Jerry were, after two miles of walking.</p>
<p>In this manner, steering free, yet full of responsibility, we
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_307">[Pg 307]</SPAN></span>
doubled the last point of the road, where it fetches round to
Narnton Court. And here we lay to, and held council, out
of the tide of the road, and in what seemed to be a lime-kiln.</p>
<p>The coxswain wanted to board the house, and demand our
Captain out of it; we had carried all public opinion thus, and
the right thing was to go on with it. But I told him very
strongly (so that he put down his collar from his ears to listen)
that no doubt he was right enough upon a hundred thousand
subjects, yet was gone astray in this. And if we boarded a
house at night, after carrying all the town by storm, what ship
had we to bear us away from the mayor and his constables
to-morrow?</p>
<p>In this dilemma, who should appear but the Captain himself,
with his head bowed down, and his walk (which was usually
so brisk in spite of a trifling lameness), his very walk expressing
that his heart was full of sadness.</p>
<p>"How much longer? How much longer?" he was saying to
himself, being so troubled that he did not see us in the
shadow there. "My own brother to have sworn it! Will
the Lord never hold His hand from scourging and from crushing
me? Would that I were shot and shrouded! It is more
than I can bear."</p>
<p>In this gloomy vein he passed us; and we looked at one
another, daring not to say a word. How could a pair of petty
officers think of intruding upon the troubles and private affairs
of a post-captain, even though, since our ship was paid off, we
could hardly be said to serve under him? "Blow me out of
the mouth of a gun," cried Coxswain Toms, in a shaking voice,
"if ever I was so amazed before! I would have sworn that
our Skipper was not only the handsomest but the happiest
man in all the service."</p>
<p>"Then, Jerry, I could have set you to rights. How many
times have I hinted that our Skipper had something on his
mind, and none of you would hearken me?"</p>
<p>"True for you, my lad. I remember, now you come to
speak of it. But we paid no heed; because you looked so
devilish knowing, and would go no further. Old Dyo, I beg
your pardon now; there is good stuff in you, friend Dyo—thoroughly
good stuff in you."</p>
<p>"I should rather think there was," I replied, perhaps a little
drily, for he ought to have known it long ago: "Jerry, I
could tell you things that would burst the tar of your pig-tail.
Nevertheless I will abstain, being undervalued so. Ho, shipmate!
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_308">[Pg 308]</SPAN></span>
Haul your wind, and hail! I am blessed if it isn't old
Heaviside!"</p>
<p>Even in the dark, I knew by the walk that it was a seaman,
and now my eyes were so accustomed to look out in all sorts
of weather, that day or night made little difference to my sense
of vision, which (as you may see hereafter) saved a British fleet,
unless I do forget to tell of it.</p>
<p>"Heaviside is my name, sir. And I should like to know
what yours may be."</p>
<p>"David Llewellyn." And so we met; and I squeezed his
hand till he longed to dance; and I was ready to cut a caper
from my depth of feeling.</p>
<p>I introduced him to Jerry Toms, according to strict formality;
and both being versed in the rules of the service,
neither would take precedence; but each of them hung back
for the other fellow to pretend to it, if he dared. I saw
exactly how they stood; and being now, as master's mate,
superior officer to both, I put them at their ease, by showing
that we must not be too grand. Thus being all in a happy
mood, and desirous to make the best of things, we could not
help letting our Captain go to dwell upon his own fortunes.
Not that we failed of desire to help him, but that our own
business pressed.</p>
<p>Gunner Heaviside led us down to a little cabin set up by
himself on the very brink of Tawe high-water mark, as a place
of retirement when hard pressed, and unable to hold his own
in the bosom of his family. You may well be surprised—for
I was more, I was downright astonished—to find that this was
my old ferry-boat, set up (like a dog begging) on shores, with
the poop channelled into the sand, and the sides eked out
with tarpaulin. A snugger berth I never saw for a quiet
man to live in: and though Heaviside scorned to tell us, and
we disdained to ask him, that—as I guessed from the first—was
the true meaning of it. This poor fellow had been seduced—and
I felt for his temptations—(when he came fresh from
salt water, and our rolling ideas of women) into rapid matrimony
with that sharp Nanette. He ought to have known
much better; and I ought to have given him warning; but
when he had made up his mind to settle, I thought it was
something solid. I gave him the names, as I may have said,
of good substantial farmers' daughters, owning at least a good
cow apiece from the date of their majority, also having sheets
and blankets, and (as they told me many a time) picked goosefeathers
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_309">[Pg 309]</SPAN></span>
enough for two. And yet he must go and throw himself
away upon that Nanette so!</p>
<p>But when I came to hear his case, and he for a moment
would not admit that it was worse than usual, or that he
wanted pity more than any other men do, and scarcely knew
how far he ought, or dared even, to accept it; and then at the
gurgling of his pipe, fancied that he heard somebody; Jerry
and I squeezed hands for a moment, and were very careful not
to tantalise this poor man, with our strong-set resolution.
"Give a wide berth to all womankind," was what we would
have said, if we could when now it was too late for him;
"failing that, stand off and on, and let the inhabitants come
down, and push off their boats, and victual you."</p>
<p>Poor Heaviside fetched a sigh enough to upset all arrangements;
for Jerry and I (good widowers both) were not likely
to be damped, at the proper time for jollifying, by the troubles
of a man who was meant to afford us rather a subject for
rejoicing. Therefore we roused him up, and said, or at least
conveyed to him, that he must not be so sadly down upon his
luck like this. And hearing that he had six children now,
and was in fear of a seventh one, I was enabled to recollect more
than twenty instances of excellent women who had managed
six, and gone off at the seventh visitation.</p>
<p>This good news put such sudden spirit into my old shipmate,
that he ceased for a long time to be afeared of all that
his wife could do to him. He never said a word to show what
his mind suggested to him, whether good or evil. Only he
made me tell those cases of unmerited mercy (as he put it)
such a number of times that I saw what comfort he was deriving.
And then we challenged him to tell us what was going
on with him.</p>
<p>He seemed rather shy of discussing himself, but said that he
was in Sir Philip's service, as boatman, long-shoreman, and
river-bailiff, also pork-salter (as a son of the brine), and watercress-picker
to the family. In a word, he had no work whatever
to do; as you may pretty safely conclude, when a man is
compelled to go into a catalogue of his activities. This sense
of ease overweighed him no doubt, and made the time hang
heavily, after so much active service, so that Naval Instructor
Heaviside moved about, and began to gossip, and having no
business of his own, spent his mind upon other folks'. Now,
as we began to see through him, and the monotony of a fellow
who is under his wife's thumb (without the frankness to
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_310">[Pg 310]</SPAN></span>
acknowledge, and enlist our sympathies for this universal
burden), both Jerry and I desired to hear something a little
more new than this. All things are good in their way, and
devised by a finely careful Providence; so that no man, whose
wife is a plague to him, can fail of one blessed reflection—to
wit, that things are ordered so for the benefit of his fellow-creatures.</p>
<p>Thus our noble Heaviside, not being satisfied with the state
of things at home—especially after he had appealed to Nanette's
strong sense of reason (which bore sway in the very first week
of half the honeymoon gloriously), and after he had yielded
slowly all his outworks of tobacco, coming down from plugs to
pipes, and from pipes to paper things, without stink enough to
pay for rolling, and so on in the downward course, till he would
have been glad of dry sugar-canes, or the stems of "old-man's
beard,"—this poor but very worthy fellow gallantly surrendered,
and resolved to rejoice, for the rest of his time, in his neighbours'
business mainly.</p>
<p>Herein he found great and constant change from his own
sharp troubles. Everybody was glad to see him; and the
wives who were the very hardest upon their own husbands,
thought that he showed himself much too soft in the matter
of Madame Heaviside. It was not his place, when that subject
arose, to say either "yes" or "no;" but to put aside
the question, as one that cannot be debated, out of the
house, with dignity. Only every one liked him the more,
the moment they remembered how contagious his complaint
was.</p>
<p>Regard this question as you will (according to lack of
experience), it was much for our benefit that the Naval
Instructor was henpecked. He had accumulated things, such
as no man can put together, whose wife allows him to have
his talk. If he may lay down the law, or even suggest for
consideration, he lets out half his knowledge, and forgets the
other half of it. Whereas, if all his utterance is cut short at
beginning, he has a good chance to get something well condensed
inside him. Thus, if you find any very close-texture
and terseness in my writings, the credit is due to my dear, good
wife, who never let me finish a sentence. I daresay she had
trouble with me; and I must be fair to her. It takes a very
different man to understand a different woman; and these
things will often touch us too late, and too sadly. I gave her
a beautiful funeral, to my utmost farthing; and took her headstone
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_311">[Pg 311]</SPAN></span>
upon credit, almost before the sexton would warrant that
the earth was settled.</p>
<p>That night my old friend Heaviside (who has led me, from
like experience, into a wholly different thing) showed some
little of himself again, before our whale-oil light began to
splutter and bubble too violently. Our society quite renewed
his hope of getting away again; especially when I explained
to him that (according to my long acquaintance with law), no
one could hold him accountable for any quantity of children
which a Frenchwoman might happen to have. An alien, to
wit, and a foreigner, worst of all a Frenchwoman, could not
expect all her froggy confinements to hold good in England.
He had committed a foolish and unloyal act in buckling to
with an alien enemy, and he deserved to pay out for it; but I
thought (and Coxswain Toms was of the same opinion) that
poor Heaviside now had suffered ever so much more than even
a Frenchwoman could expect of him. And we begged him to
go afloat again.</p>
<p class="pmb3">He shook his head, and said that he had not invited our opinions,
but to a certain extent endeavoured to be thankful for
them. Yet he suggested delicately that after being so long at sea,
we might have waited for our land-legs, before we became so
positive. And if we would not mind allowing him to see to
his own concerns, he would gladly tell all he knew about those of
other people. This appeared to me to be a perfectly fair offer;
but Jerry Toms took a little offence, on account of not knowing
the neighbourhood. As superior officer of the three, I insisted
upon silence, especially as from old times I knew what villany
might be around us. And as soon as Heaviside could descry
quite clearly what tack I stood upon, he distinctly gave his
pledge to be open as the day. Therefore we all filled our pipes
again, and took fresh lights for them, and looked at one another,
while this old chap told his story. And please to mind that he
had picked up a prawn-netful of little trifles, such as I never
could stoop to scoop, because he won such chances through the
way the women pitied him. Only I must in ship-shape put
his rambling mode of huddling things. If you please, we are
now going back seven years, and more than that, to the very
date of my escape from Devonshire; so as to tell you what
none of us knew, until we met with Heaviside.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_312">[Pg 312]</SPAN></span></p>
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