CHAPTER THE SEVENTH
*In which Colonel Clive suffers a defeat hitherto unrecorded; and ourhero finds food for reflection.*
It was four o'clock, and Tuesday afternoon--the day before the _GoodIntent_ was to sail from the Pool. Desmond was kicking his heels in hisinn, longing for the morrow. Even now he had not seen the vessel onwhich he was to set forth in quest of his fortune. She lay in the Pool,but Diggle had found innumerable reasons why Desmond should not visither until he embarked for good and all. She was loading her cargo; hewould be in the way. Captain Barker was in a bad temper; better not seehim in his tantrums. The pressgangs were active; they thought nothingof boarding a vessel and seizing on any active young fellow who looked alikely subject for His Majesty's navy. Such were the reasons alleged.And so Desmond had to swallow his impatience and fill in his time asbest he might; reading the newspapers, going to see Mr. Garrick andMistress Kitty Clive at Drury Lane, spending an odd evening at RanelaghGardens.
On this Tuesday afternoon he had nothing to do. Diggle was out; Desmondhad read the newspapers and glanced at the last number of the World; hehad written to his mother--the third letter since his arrival in London;he could not settle to anything. He resolved to go for a walk, as faras St. Paul's, perhaps, and take a last look at the busy streets he wasnot likely to see again for many a day.
Forth then he issued. The streets were muddy; a mist was creeping upfrom the river, promising to thicken into a London fog, and thelink-boys were already preparing their tow and looking for a richharvest of coppers ere the night was old. Desmond picked his waythrough the quagmires of John Street, crossed Crutched Friars, and wentup Mark Lane into Fenchurch Street, intending to go by Leadenhall Streetand Cornhill into Cheapside.
He had just reached the lower end of Billiter Street, the narrowthoroughfare leading into Leadenhall, when he saw Diggle's tall figurerunning amain towards him, with another man close behind, apparently inhot pursuit. Diggle caught sight of Desmond at the same moment, and hiseyes gleamed as with relief. He quickened his pace.
"Hold this fellow behind me," he panted as he passed, and before Desmondcould put a question he was gone.
There was no time for deliberation. Desmond had but just perceived thatthe pursuer was in the garb of a gentleman and had a broad patch ofplaster stretched across his left temple, when the moment for actionarrived. Stooping low, he suddenly caught at the man's knees. Down hecame heavily, mouthing hearty abuse, and man and boy were on the groundtogether.
Desmond was up first. He now saw that a second figure was hurrying onfrom the other end of the street. He was not sure what Diggle demandedof him; whether it was sufficient to have tripped up the pursuer, orwhether he must hold him still in play. But by this time the man wasalso upon his feet; his hat was off, his silk breeches and brown coatwith lace ruffles were all bemired. Puffing and blowing, uttering manya round oath such as came freely to the lips of the Englishman of KingGeorge the Second's time, he shouted to his friend behind to come on,and, disregarding Desmond, made to continue his pursuit.
Desmond could but grapple with him.
"Let go, villain!" cried the man, striving to free himself. Desmondclung on; there was a brief struggle, but he was no match in size orstrength for his opponent, who was thick-set and of considerable girth.He fell backwards, overborne by the man's weight. His head struck onthe road; dazed by the blow he loosened his clutch, and lay for a momentin semi-unconsciousness while the man sprang away.
But he was not so far gone as not to hear a loud shout behind him andnear at hand, followed by the tramp of feet.
"Avast there!" The voice was familiar: surely it was Bulger's. "Fairplay! Fourteen stone against seven en't odds. Show a leg, mateys."
The big sailor with a dozen of his mates stood full in the path of theirate gentleman, who, seeing himself beset, drew his rapier and preparedto fight his way through. A moment later he was joined by his companion,who had also drawn his rapier. Together the gentlemen stood facing thesailors.
"This is check, Merriman," said the last comer as the seamen,flourishing their hangers menacingly, pressed forward past the prostratebody of Desmond. "The fellow has escaped you; best withdraw atdiscretion."
"Come on," shouted Bulger, waving his hook. "Bill Bulger en't the manto sheer off from a couple of landlubbers."
As with his mates in line he steadily advanced, the two gentlemen, theirlips set, their eyes fixed on the assailants, their rapiers pointed,backed slowly up the street. The noise had brought clerks and merchantsto the doors; some one sprang a rattle; there were cries for thewatchmen; but no one actively interfered. Meanwhile Desmond hadregained his senses, and, still feeling somewhat dizzy, had sat downupon a doorstep, wondering not a little at the pursuit and flight ofDiggle and the opportune arrival of the sailors. Everything hadhappened very rapidly; scarcely two minutes had elapsed since the firstonset.
He was still resting when there was a sudden change in the quality ofthe shouts up street. Hitherto they had been boisterous rallying cries,now they were unmistakably hearty British cheers, expressing nothing butapproval and admiration. And they came not merely from the throats ofthe sailors, but from the now considerable crowd that filled the street.A few moments afterwards he saw the throng part, and through it Bulgermarching at the head of his mates, singing lustily. They came oppositeto the step on which he sat, and Bulger caught sight of him.
"Blest if it en't our supercargo!" he cried, stopping short.
A shout of laughter broke from the sailors. One of them struck up asong.
Oho! we says good-bye, But never pipes our eye, Tho' we leaves Poll, Sue, and Kitty all behind us; And if we drops our bones Down along o' Davy Jones, Why, they'll come and ax the mermaids for to find us.
"And what took ye, Mister Supercargo, to try a fall with the fourteenstoner?"
"Oh, I was helping a friend."
"Ay, an' a friend was helpin' him, an' here's a dozen of us a-helpin' ofone supercargo."
"And I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Bulger. But what were you cheeringfor?"
"Cheerin'! Why, you wouldn't guess. 'Twas General Clive, matey."
"General Clive!"
"Ay, General Clive, him what chased the mounseers out o' Fort St. Georgewith a marlin-spike. I didn't know him at fust, comin' up behindt'other chap; but when I seed that purple coat with the gold lace andthe face of him above it I knowed him. In course there was no morefight for us then; 'twas hip-hip hurray and up with our hangers. Clive,he smiled and touched his hat. 'Bulger,' says he, 'you en't muchfatter----'"
"Does he know you, then?"
"Know me! In course he does. Wasn't I bo'sun's mate on board theIndiaman as took him east twelve year ago or more? That was afore I gotthis here button-hook o' mine. Ay, I remember him well, a-trampin' upan' down deck with his hands in his pockets an' his mouth set tight an'his chin on his stock, never speakin' to a soul, in the doldrums if evera lad was. Why, we all thought there was no more spirit in him than inthe old wooden figure-head--leastways, all but me. 'I may be wrong,'says I to old Tinsley the bo'sun, 'I may be wrong,' says I, 'but I bemain sure that young sad down-in-the-mouth have got a blazin' firesomewhere in his innards.' Ay, and time showed it. There was a lot ofcadets aboard as poked fun at the quiet chap an' talked him over,awinkin' their eyes. From talkin' it got to doin'. One day, goin' tohis bunk, he found it all topsy-versy, hair powder on his pillow, dubbinin his shavin' cup, salt pork wropt up in his dressin'-gown. Well, Iseed him as he comed on deck, an' his face were a sight to remember,pale as death, but his eyes a-blazin' like live coals in the galleyfire. Up he steps to the cadet as was ringleader; how he knowed it Ican't tell you, but he was sure of it, same as I always am. 'Sir,' sayshe, quiet as a lamb, 'I want a word with you.' 'Dear me!' says thecadet, 'have Mr. Clive found his voice at last?' 'Yes, sir,' saysClive, 'behave, an' something else.' Cook happened to be passin' with atray; a lady what was
squeamish had been havin' her vittles on deck.Mr. Clive cotched up a basin o' pea soup what was too greasy for madam,and in a twink he sets it upside down on the cadet's head. Ay, 'twas apretty pictur', the greasy yellow stuff runnin' down over his powderedhair an' lace collar an' fine blue coat. My eye! there was a rare oldshindy, the cadet cursin' and splutterin', the others laughin' fit tobust 'emselves. The cadet out with his fists, but there, 'twas nomanner o' use. Mr. Clive bowled him over like a ninepin till he layalong deck all pea-soup an' gore. There was no more baitin' o' Mr.Clive that voyage. 'Bo'sun,' says I, 'what did I tell you? I may bewrong, but that young Mr. Bob Clive 'll be a handful for the factors inFort St. George.'"
While this narrative had been in progress, Desmond was walking withBulger and his mates back towards the river.
"How was it you happened to be hereabouts so early?" asked Desmond. "Ididn't expect to see you till to-morrow."
Bulger winked.
"You wouldn't ax if you wasn't a landlubber, meanin' no offence," hesaid. "'Tis last night ashore. We sailormen has had enough o'_Waterman's Rests_ an' such-like. To tell you the truth, we gave Mr.Toley the slip, and now we be goin' to have a night at the _Crown an'Anchor_."
"What about the pressgang?"
"We takes our chance. They won't press me, sartin sure, 'cos o' mytenter-hook here, and I'll keep my weather-eye open, trust me for that."
Here they parted company. Desmond watched the jolly crew as they turnedinto the Minories, and heard their rollicking chorus:
Ho! when the cargo's shipped, An' the anchor's neatly tripped, An' the gals are weepin' bucketfuls o' sorrer, Why, there's the decks to swab, An' we en't agoin' to sob, S'pose the sharks do make a meal of us to-morrer.
At the _Goat and Compasses_ Diggle was awaiting him.
"Ha! my friend, you did it as prettily as a man could wish. 'Solitudoaliquid adjuvat,' as Tully somewhere hath it, not foreseeing my case,when solitude would have been my undoing. I thank thee."
"Was the fellow attacking you?" asked Desmond.
"That to be sure was his intention. I was in truth in the very articleof peril; I was blown; my breath was near gone, when at the criticalmoment up comes a gallant youth--'subvenisti homini jam perdito'--andwith dexterous hand stays the enemy in his course."
"But what was it all about? Do you know the man?"
"Ods my life! 'twas a complete stranger, a man, I should guess, of hastypassions and tetchy temper. By the merest accident, at a somewhatcrowded part, I unluckily elbowed the man into the kennel, and though Iapologized in the handsomest way he must take offence and seek to cutoff my life, to extinguish me 'in primo aevo,' as Naso would say. ButAtropos was forestalled, my thread of life still falls uncut fromClotho's shuttle; still, still, my boy, I bear on the torch of lifeunextinguished."
Desmond felt that all this fine phrasing, this copious draught fromclassical sources, was intended to quench the ardour of his curiosity.Diggle's explanation was very lame; the fury depicted on the pursuer'sface could scarcely be due to a mere accidental jostling in the street.And Diggle was certainly not the man to take to his heels on slightoccasion. But after all Diggle's quarrels were his own concern. Thathis past life included secrets Desmond had long suspected, but he wasnot the first man of birth and education who had fallen into misfortune,and at all events he had always treated Desmond with kindness. So theboy put the matter from his thoughts.
The incident, however, left a sting of vexation behind it. In agreeingto accompany Diggle to the East, Desmond had harboured a vague hope offalling in with Clive and taking service, in however humble a capacity,with him. It vexed him sorely to think that Clive, whose memory forfaces, as his recognition of Bulger after twelve years had shown, wasvery good, might recognize him, should they meet, as the boy who hadplayed a part in what was almost a street brawl. Still, it could not behelped. Desmond comforted himself with the hope that Clive had taken noparticular note of him, and, if they should ever encounter, wouldprobably meet him as a stranger.