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The frank, fearless, sledge-hammer talk of the lawyer made a deepimpression on the boy, as a long letter written next day to his fatherand mother clearly shows. He went to the house of the printer, wherehe did not receive the warm welcome he had expected. Deborah Franklinwas a fat, hard-working, illiterate, economical housewife. She had agreat pride in her husband, but had fallen hopelessly behind him. Sheregarded with awe and slight understanding the accomplishments of hisvirile, restless, on-pushing intellect. She did not know how to enjoythe prosperity that had come to them. It was a neat and cleanly home,but, as of old, Deborah was doing most of the work herself. She wouldnot have had it otherwise.
"Ben thinks we ortn't to be doin' nothin' but settin' eroun' in silkdresses an' readin' books an' gabbin' with comp'ny," she said. "Mendon't know how hard tis to git help that cleans good an' cooks decent.Everybody feels so kind o' big an' inderpendent they won't stan' it tobe found fault with."
Her daughter, Mrs. Bache, and the latter's children were there.Suddenly confronted by the problem of a strange lad coming into thehouse to live with them, they were a bit dismayed. But presently theirmotherly hearts were touched by the look of the big, gentle-faced,homesick boy. They made a room ready for him on the top floor andshowed him the wonders of the big house--the library, the electricalapparatus, the rocking chair with its fan swayed by the movement of thechair, the new stove and grate which the Doctor had invented. Thatevening, after an excellent supper, they sat down for a visit in thelibrary, when Jack suggested that he would like to have a part of thework to do.
"I can sweep and clean as well as any one," he said. "My mother taughtme how to do that. You must call on me for any help you need."
"Now I wouldn't wonder but what we'll git erlong real happy," said Mrs.Franklin. "If you'll git up 'arly an' dust the main floor an' do thebroom work an' fill the wood boxes an' fetch water, I'll see ye don'tgo hungry."
"I suppose you will be going to England if the Doctor is detainedthere," said Jack.
"No, sir," Mrs. Franklin answered. "I wouldn't go out on that ol'ocean--not if ye would give me a million pounds. It's too big an' deepan' awful! No, sir! Ben got a big bishop to write me a letter an'tell me I'd better come over an' look a'ter him. But Ben knowed allthe time that I wouldn't go a step."
There were those who said that her dread of the sea had been a blessingto Ben, for Mrs. Franklin had no graces and little gift forcommunication. But there was no more honest, hard-working, economicalhousewife in Philadelphia.
Jack went to the shop and was put to work next morning. He had tocarry beer and suffer a lot of humiliating imposition from older boysin the big shop, but he bore it patiently and made friends and goodprogress. That winter he took dancing lessons from the famous JohnTrotter of New York and practised fencing with the well-known MasterBrissac. He also took a course in geometry and trigonometry at theAcademy and wrote an article describing his trip to Boston for _TheGazette_. The latter was warmly praised by the editor and reprinted inNew York and Boston journals. He joined the company for home defenseand excelled in the games, on training day, especially at the running,wrestling, boxing and target shooting. There were many shootinggalleries in Philadelphia wherein Jack had shown a knack of shootingwith the rifle and pistol, which had won for him the Franklin medal formarksmanship. In the back country the favorite amusement of himselfand father had been shooting at a mark.
Somehow the boy managed to do a great deal of work and to find time fortramping in the woods along the Schuylkill and for skating and swimmingwith the other boys. Mrs. Franklin and Mrs. Bache grew fond of Jackand before the new year came had begun to treat him with a kind ofmotherly affection.
William, the Doctor's son, who was the governor of the province of NewJersey, came to the house at Christmas time. He was a silent, morose,dignified, self-seeking man, who astonished Jack with his rabidToryism. He nettled the boy by treating the opinions of the latterwith smiling toleration and by calling his own father--the greatDoctor--"a misguided man."
Jack forged ahead, not only in the printer's art, but on toward thefulness of his strength. Under the stimulation of city life andcontinuous study, his talents grew like wheat in black soil. In thesummer of seventy-three he began to contribute to the columns of _TheGazette_. Certain of his articles brought him compliments from thebest people for their wit, penetration and good humor. He had enteredupon a career of great promise when the current of his life quickenedlike that of a river come to a steeper grade. It began with a letterfrom Margaret Hare, dated July 14, 1773. In it she writes:
"When you get this please sit down and count up the years that havepassed since we parted. Then think how our plans have gone awry. Youmust also think of me waiting here for you in the midst of a marryingworld. All my friends have taken their mates and passed on. I went toDoctor Franklin to-day and told him that I was an old lady well pastnineteen and accused him of having a heart of stone. He said that hehad not sent for you because you were making such handsome progress inyour work. I said: 'You do not think of the rapid progress I am makingtoward old age. You forget, too, that I need a husband as badly as_The Gazette_ needs a philosopher. I rebel. You have made me anAmerican--you and Jack, I will no longer consent to taxation withoutrepresentation. Year by year I am giving up some of my youth and I amnot being consulted about it.'
"Said he: 'I would demand justice of the king. I suppose he thinksthat his country can not yet afford a queen, I shall tell him that heis imitating George the Third and that he had better listen to thevoice of the people.'
"Now, my beloved hero, the English girl who is not married at nineteenis thought to be hopeless. There are fine lads who have asked myfather for the right to court me and still I am waiting for my bravedeliverer and he comes not. I can not forget the thrush's song and theenchanted woods. They hold me. If they have not held you--if for anyreason your heart has changed--you will not fail to tell me, will you?Is it necessary that you should be great and wise and rich and learnedbefore you come to me? Little by little, after many talks with thevenerable Franklin, I have got the American notion that I would like togo away with you and help you to accomplish these things and enjoy thehappiness which was ours, for a little time, and of which you speak inyour letters. Surely there was something very great in those moments.It does not fade and has it not kept us true to their promise? But,Jack, how long am I to wait? You must tell me."
This letter went to the heart of the young man. She had deftly setbefore him the gross unfairness of delay. He felt it. Ever since theparting he had been eager to go, but his father was not a rich man andthe family was large. His own salary had been little more than wasneeded for clothing and books. That autumn it had been doubled and theeditor had assured him that higher pay would be forthcoming. Hehesitated to tell the girl how little he earned and how small, whenmeasured in money, his progress had seemed to be. He was in despairwhen his friend Solomon Binkus arrived from Virginia. For two yearsthe latter had been looking after the interests of Major Washington outin the Ohio River country. They dined together that evening at TheCrooked Billet and Solomon told him of his adventures in the West, andfrontier stories of the notorious, one-legged robber, Micah Harpe, andhis den on the shore of the Ohio and of the cunning of the outlaw inevading capture.
"I got his partner, Mike Fink, and Major Washington give me fiftypounds for the job," said Solomon. "They say Harpe's son disappearedlong time ago an' I wouldn't wonder if you an' me had seen him do it."
"The white man that hung back in the bushes so long? I'll never forgethim," said Jack.
"Them wimmen couldn't 'a' been in wuss hands."
"It was a lucky day for them and for me," Jack answered. "I have herea letter from Margaret. I wish you would read it."
Solomon read the girl's letter and said:
"If I was you I'd swim the big pond if nec'sary. This 'ere is a realsimon pure, four-masted womern an' she wants you fe
r Captain. As thefeller said when he seen a black fox, 'Come on, boys, it's time fer towear out yer boots.'"
"I'm tied to my job."
"Then break yer halter," said Solomon.
"I haven't money enough to get married and keep a wife."
"What an ignorant cuss you be!" Solomon exclaimed. "You don't 'pear toknow when ye're well off."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that ye're wuth at least a thousan' pounds cash money."
"I would not ask my father for help and I have only forty pounds in thebank," Jack answered.
Solomon took out his wallet and removed from it a worn and soiled pieceof paper and studied the memoranda it contained. Then he did someciphering with a piece of lead. In a moment he said:
You have got a thousan' an' fifteen pounds an' six shillin' fer to dowith as ye please an' no questions asked--nary one."
"You mean you've got it."
"Which means that Jack Irons owns it hide, horns an' taller."
Tears came to the boy's eyes. He looked down for a moment withoutspeaking. "Thank you, Solomon," he said presently. "I can't use yourmoney. It wouldn't be right."
Solomon shut one eye an' squinted with the other as if he were takingaim along the top of a gun barrel. Then he shook his head and drawled:
"Cat's blood an' gunpowder! That 'ere slaps me in the face an' kicksme on the shin," Solomon answered. "I've walked an' paddled eightymile in a day an' been stabbed an' shot at an' had to run fer my life,which it ain't no fun--you hear to me. Who do ye s'pose I done it ferbut you an' my kentry? There ain't nobody o' my name an' blood on thisside o' the ocean--not nobody at all. An' if I kin't work fer you,Jack, I'd just erbout as soon quit. This 'ere money ain't no good tome 'cept fer body cover an' powder an' balls. I'd as leave drop it inthe river. It bothers me. I don't need it. When I git hum I go an'hide it in the bush somewhars--jest to git it out o' my way. I beenthinkin' all up the road from Virginny o' this 'ere gol demnable moneyan' what I were a-goin' to do with it an' what it could do to me. An',sez I, I'm ergoin' to ask Jack to take it an' use it fer a wall 'twixthim an' trouble, an' the idee hurried me erlong--honest! Kind o' mademe happy. Course, if I had a wife an' childern, 'twould be different,but I ain't got no one. An' now ye tell me ye don't want it, which itmakes me feel lonesomer 'n a tarred Tory an' kind o' sorrowful--ayes,sir, it does."
Solomon's voice sank to a whisper.
"Forgive me," said Jack. "I didn't know you felt that way. But I'mglad you do. I'll take it on the understanding that as long as I livewhat I have shall also be yours."
"I've two hundred poun' an' six shillin' in my pocket an' a lot morehid in the bush. It's all yourn to the last round penny. I reckonit'll purty nigh bridge the slough. I want ye to be marriedrespectable like a gentleman--slick duds, plenty o' cakes an' pies an'no slightin' the minister er the rum bar'l.
"Major Washington give me a letter to take to Ben Franklin on t'otherside o' the ocean. Ye see ev'ry letter that's sent ercrost is openedan' read afore it gits to him lessen it's guarded keerful. This 'ereone, I guess, has suthin' powerful secret in it. He pays all thebills. So I'll be goin' erlong with ye on the nex' ship an' when wegit thar I want to shake hands with the gal and tell her how to make yebehave."
That evening Jack went to the manager of _The Gazette_ and asked for asix months' leave of absence.
"And why would ye be leaving?" asked the manager, a braw Scot.
"I expect to be married."
"In England?"
"Yes."
"I'll agree if the winsome, wee thing will give ye time to send us newsletters from London. Doctor Franklin could give ye help. He has beenboiling over with praise o' you and has asked me to broach the matter.Ye'll be sailing on the next ship."
Before there was any sailing Jack and Solomon had time to go to Albanyfor a visit. They found the family well and prosperous, the towngrowing. John Irons said that land near the city was increasingrapidly in value. Solomon went away into the woods the morning oftheir arrival and returned in the afternoon with his money, which hegave to John Irons to be invested in land. Jack, having had adelightful stay at home, took a schooner for New York that evening withSolomon.
The night before they sailed for England his friends in the craft gaveJack a dinner at The Gray Goose Tavern. He describes the event in along letter. To his astonishment the mayor and other well-known menwere present and expressed their admiration for his talents.
The table was spread with broiled fish and roasted fowls and mutton andtowering spiced hams and sweet potatoes and mince pies and cakes andjellies.
"The spirit of hospitality expresses itself here in ham--often, also,in fowls, fish and mutton, but always and chiefly in ham--cooked anddecorated with the greatest care and surrounded by forms, flavors andcolors calculated to please the eye and fill the human system with adeep, enduring and memorable satisfaction," he writes.
In the midst of the festivities it was announced that Jack was to bemarried and as was the custom of the time, every man at the tableproposed a toast and drank to it. One addressed himself to the eyes ofthe fortunate young lady. Then her lips, her eyebrows, her neck, herhands, her feet, her disposition and her future husband were each inturn enthusiastically toasted by other guests in bumpers of Frenchwine. He adds that these compliments were "so moist and numerous thatthey became more and more indistinct, noisy and irrational" and thatbefore they ended "Nearly every one stood up singing his own favoritesong. There is a stage of emotion which can only be expressed innoises. That stage had been reached. They put me in mind of DavidCulver's bird shop where many song birds--all of a differentfeather--engage in a kind of tournament, each pouring out his soul witha desperate determination to be heard. It was all very friendly andgood natured but it was, also, very wild."