Redburn: His First Voyage — Chapters XLIII - XLV

These Englishmen have no manners, that’s plain, thought I; and I trudged on down the street in a reverie.

CHAPTER XLIII. HE TAKES A DELIGHTFUL RAMBLE INTO THE COUNTRY; AND MAKES THE

ACQUAINTANCE OF THREE ADORABLE CHARMERS

Who that dwells in America has not heard of the bright fields and green hedges of England, and longed to behold them?

Even so had it been with me; and now that I was actually in England, I resolved not to go away without having a good, long look at the open fields.

On a Sunday morning I started, with a lunch in my pocket.

It was a beautiful day in July; the air was sweet with the breath of buds and flowers, and there was a green splendor in the landscape that ravished me.

Soon I gained an elevation commanding a wide sweep of view; and meadow and mead, and woodland and hedge, were all around me.

Ay, ay!

this was old England, indeed!

I had found it at last—there it was in the country!

Hovering over the scene was a soft, dewy air, that seemed faintly tinged with the green of the grass; and I thought, as I breathed my breath, that perhaps I might be inhaling the very particles once respired by Rosamond the Fair.

On I trudged along the London road—smooth as an entry floor—and every white cottage I passed, embosomed in honeysuckles, seemed alive in the landscape.

But the day wore on; and at length the sun grew hot; and the long road became dusty.

I thought that some shady place, in some shady field, would be very pleasant to repose in.

So, coming to a charming little dale, undulating down to a hollow, arched over with foliage, I crossed over toward it; but paused by the road-side at a frightful announcement, nailed against an old tree, used as a gate-post— “MAN-TRAPS AND SPRING-GUNS!

” In America I had never heard of the like.

What could it mean?

They were not surely _cannibals,_ that dwelt down in that beautiful little dale, and lived by catching men, like weasels and beavers in Canada!

“A _man-trap!

”_ It must be so.

The announcement could bear but one meaning—that there was something near by, intended to catch human beings; some species of mechanism, that would suddenly fasten upon the unwary rover, and hold him by the leg like a dog; or, perhaps, devour him on the spot.

Incredible!

In a Christian land, too!

Did that sweet lady, Queen Victoria, permit such diabolical practices?

Had her gracious majesty ever passed by this way, and seen the announcement?

And who put it there?

The proprietor, probably.

And what right had he to do so?

Why, he owned the soil.

And where are his title-deeds?

In his strong-box, I suppose.

Thus I stood wrapt in cogitations.

You are a pretty fellow, Wellingborough, thought I to myself; you are a mighty traveler, indeed:—stopped on your travels by a _man-trap!

_ Do you think Mungo Park was so served in Africa?

Do you think Ledyard was so entreated in Siberia?

Upon my word, you will go home not very much wiser than when you set out; and the only excuse you can give, for not having seen more sights, will be _man-traps—mantraps, my masters!

_ that frightened you!

And then, in my indignation, I fell back upon first principles.

What right has this man to the soil he thus guards with dragons?

What excessive effrontery, to lay sole claim to a solid piece of this planet, right down to the earth’s axis, and, perhaps, straight through to the antipodes!

For a moment I thought I would test his traps, and enter the forbidden Eden.

But the grass grew so thickly, and seemed so full of sly things, that at last I thought best to pace off.

Next, I came to a hawthorn lane, leading down very prettily to a nice little church; a mossy little church; a beautiful little church; just such a church as I had always dreamed to be in England.

The porch was viny as an arbor; the ivy was climbing about the tower; and the bees were humming about the hoary old head-stones along the walls.

Any man-traps here?

thought I—any spring-guns?

No. So I walked on, and entered the church, where I soon found a seat.

No Indian, red as a deer, could have startled the simple people more.

They gazed and they gazed; but as I was all attention to the sermon, and conducted myself with perfect propriety, they did not expel me, as at first I almost imagined they might.

Service over, I made my way through crowds of children, who stood staring at the marvelous stranger, and resumed my stroll along the London Road.

My next stop was at an inn, where under a tree sat a party of rustics, drinking ale at a table.

“Good day,” said I. “Good day; from Liverpool?

” “I guess so.

” “For London?

” “No; not this time.

I merely come to see the country.

” At this, they gazed at each other; and I, at myself; having doubts whether I might not look something like a horse-thief.

“Take a seat,” said the landlord, a fat fellow, with his wife’s apron on, I thought.

“Thank you.

” And then, little by little, we got into a long talk: in the course of which, I told who I was, and where I was from.

I found these rustics a good-natured, jolly set; and I have no doubt they found me quite a sociable youth.

They treated me to ale; and I treated them to stories about America, concerning which, they manifested the utmost curiosity.

One of them, however, was somewhat astonished that I had not made the acquaintance of a brother of his, who had resided somewhere on the banks of the Mississippi for several years past; but among twenty millions of people, I had never happened to meet him, at least to my knowledge.

At last, leaving this party, I pursued my way, exhilarated by the lively conversation in which I had shared, and the pleasant sympathies exchanged: and perhaps, also, by the ale I had drunk:—fine old ale;

yes, English ale, ale brewed in England!

And I trod English soil; and breathed English air; and every blade of grass was an Englishman born.

Smoky old Liverpool, with all its pitch and tar was now far behind;

nothing in sight but open meadows and fields.

Come, Wellingborough, why not push on for London?

— Hurra!

what say you?

let’s have a peep at St. Paul’s?

Don’t you want to see the queen?

Have you no longing to behold the duke?

Think of Westminster Abbey, and the Tunnel under the Thames!

Think of Hyde Park, and the ladies!

But then, thought I again, with my hands wildly groping in my two vacuums of pockets—who’s to pay the bill?

—You can’t beg your way, Wellingborough; that would never do; for you are your father’s son, Wellingborough; and you must not disgrace your family in a foreign land; you must not turn pauper.

Ah!

Ah!

it was indeed too true; there was no St. Paul’s or Westminster Abbey for me; that was flat.

Well, well, up heart, you’ll see it one of these days.

But think of it!

here I am on the very road that leads to the Thames—think of _that!

—_here I am—ay, treading in the wheel-tracks of coaches that are bound for the metropolis!

—It was too bad; too bitterly bad.

But I shoved my old hat over my brows, and walked on; till at last I came to a green bank, deliriously shaded by a fine old tree with broad branching arms, that stretched themselves over the road, like a hen gathering her brood under her wings.

Down on the green grass I threw myself and there lay my head, like a last year’s nut.

People passed by, on foot and in carriages, and little thought that the sad youth under the tree was the great-nephew of a late senator in the American Congress.

Presently, I started to my feet, as I heard a gruff voice behind me from the field, crying out—“What are you doing there, you young rascal?

—run away from the work’us, have ye?

Tramp, or I’ll set Blucher on ye!

” And who was Blucher?

A cut-throat looking dog, with his black bull-muzzle thrust through a gap in the hedge.

And his master?

A sturdy farmer, with an alarming cudgel in his hand.

“Come, are you going to start?

” he cried.

“Presently,” said I, making off with great dispatch.

When I had got a few yards into the middle of the highroad (which belonged as much to me as it did to the queen herself), I turned round, like a man on his own premises, and said— “Stranger!

if you ever visit America, just call at our house, and you’ll always find there a dinner and a bed.

Don’t fail.

” I then walked on toward Liverpool, full of sad thoughts concerning the cold charities of the world, and the infamous reception given to hapless young travelers, in broken-down shooting-jackets.

On, on I went, along the skirts of forbidden green fields; until reaching a cottage, before which I stood rooted.

So sweet a place I had never seen: no palace in Persia could be pleasanter; there were flowers in the garden; and six red cheeks, like six moss-roses, hanging from the casement.

At the embowered doorway, sat an old man, confidentially communing with his pipe: while a little child, sprawling on the ground, was playing with his shoestrings.

A

hale matron, but with rather a prim expression, was reading a journal by his side: and three charmers, three Peris, three Houris!

were leaning out of the window close by.

Ah!

Wellingborough, don’t you wish you could step in?

With a heavy heart at his cheerful sigh, I was turning to go, when—is it possible?

the old man called me back, and invited me in.

“Come, come,” said he, “you look as if you had walked far; come, take a bowl of milk.

Matilda, my dear” (how my heart jumped), “go fetch some from the dairy.

” And the white-handed angel did meekly obey, and handed _me—me,_ the vagabond, a bowl of bubbling milk, which I could hardly drink down, for gazing at the dew on her lips.

As I live, I could have married that charmer on the spot!

She was by far the most beautiful rosebud I had yet seen in England.

But I endeavored to dissemble my ardent admiration; and in order to do away at once with any unfavorable impressions arising from the close scrutiny of my miserable shooting-jacket, which was now taking place, I declared myself a Yankee sailor from Liverpool, who was spending a Sunday in the country.

“And have you been to church to-day, young man?

” said the old lady, looking daggers.

“Good madam, I have; the little church down yonder, you know—a most excellent sermon—I am much the better for it.

” I wanted to mollify this severe looking old lady; for even my short experience of old ladies had convinced me that they are the hereditary enemies of all strange young men.

I soon turned the conversation toward America, a theme which I knew would be interesting, and upon which I could be fluent and agreeable.

I

strove to talk in Addisonian English, and ere long could see very plainly that my polished phrases were making a surprising impression, though that miserable shooting-jacket of mine was a perpetual drawback to my claims to gentility.

Spite of all my blandishments, however, the old lady stood her post like a sentry; and to my inexpressible chagrin, kept the three charmers in the background, though the old man frequently called upon them to advance.

This fine specimen of an old Englishman seemed to be quite as free from ungenerous suspicions as his vinegary spouse was full of them.

But I still lingered, snatching furtive glances at the young ladies, and vehemently talking to the old man about Illinois, and the river Ohio, and the fine farms in the Genesee country, where, in harvest time, the laborers went into the wheat fields a thousand strong.

Stick to it, Wellingborough, thought I; don’t give the old lady time to think; stick to it, my boy, and an invitation to tea will reward you.

At last it came, and the old lady abated her frowns.

It was the most delightful of meals; the three charmers sat all on one side, and I opposite, between the old man and his wife.

The middle charmer poured out the souchong, and handed me the buttered muffins;

and such buttered muffins never were spread on the other side of the Atlantic.

The butter had an aromatic flavor; by Jove, it was perfectly delicious.

And there they sat—the charmers, I mean—eating these buttered muffins in plain sight.

I wished I was a buttered muffin myself.

Every minute they grew handsomer and handsomer; and I could not help thinking what a fine thing it would be to carry home a beautiful English wife!

how my friends would stare!

a lady from England!

I might have been mistaken; but certainly I thought that Matilda, the one who had handed me the milk, sometimes looked rather benevolently in the direction where I sat.

She certainly _did_ look at my jacket; and I am constrained to think at my face.

Could it be possible she had fallen in love at first sight?

Oh, rapture!

But oh, misery!

that was out of the question; for what a looking suitor was Wellingborough?

At length, the old lady glanced toward the door, and made some observations about its being yet a long walk to town.

She handed me the buttered muffins, too, as if performing a final act of hospitality; and in other fidgety ways vaguely hinted her desire that I should decamp.

Slowly I rose, and murmured my thanks, and bowed, and tried to be off;

but as quickly I turned, and bowed, and thanked, and lingered again and again.

Oh, charmers!

oh, Peris!

thought I, must I go?

Yes, Wellingborough, you must; so I made one desperate congee, and darted through the door.

I have never seen them since: no, nor heard of them; but to this day I live a bachelor on account of those ravishing charmers.

As the long twilight was waning deeper and deeper into the night, I entered the town; and, plodding my solitary way to the same old docks, I passed through the gates, and scrambled my way among tarry smells, across the tiers of ships between the quay and the Highlander.

My only resource was my bunk; in I turned, and, wearied with my long stroll, was soon fast asleep, dreaming of red cheeks and roses.

CHAPTER XLIV.

REDBURN INTRODUCES MASTER HARRY BOLTON TO THE FAVORABLE CONSIDERATION OF THE READER

It was the day following my Sunday stroll into the country, and when I had been in England four weeks or more, that I made the acquaintance of a handsome, accomplished, but unfortunate youth, young Harry Bolton.

He was one of those small, but perfectly formed beings, with curling hair, and silken muscles, who seem to have been born in cocoons.

His complexion was a mantling brunette, feminine as a girl’s; his feet were small; his hands were white; and his eyes were large, black, and womanly; and, poetry aside, his voice was as the sound of a harp.

But where, among the tarry docks, and smoky sailor-lanes and by-ways of a seaport, did I, a battered Yankee boy, encounter this courtly youth?

Several evenings I had noticed him in our street of boarding-houses, standing in the doorways, and silently regarding the animated scenes without.

His beauty, dress, and manner struck me as so out of place in such a street, that I could not possibly divine what had transplanted this delicate exotic from the conservatories of some Regent-street to the untidy potato-patches of Liverpool.

At last I suddenly encountered him at the sign of the Baltimore Clipper.

He was speaking to one of my shipmates concerning America; and from something that dropped, I was led to imagine that he contemplated a voyage to my country.

Charmed with his appearance, and all eagerness to enjoy the society of this incontrovertible son of a gentleman—a kind of pleasure so long debarred me—I smoothed down the skirts of my jacket, and at once accosted him; declaring who I was, and that nothing would afford me greater delight than to be of the least service, in imparting any information concerning America that he needed.

He glanced from my face to my jacket, and from my jacket to my face, and at length, with a pleased but somewhat puzzled expression, begged me to accompany him on a walk.

We rambled about St. George’s Pier until nearly midnight; but before we parted, with uncommon frankness, he told me many strange things respecting his history.

According to his own account, Harry Bolton was a native of Bury St. Edmunds, a borough of Suffolk, not very far from London, where he was early left an orphan, under the charge of an only aunt.

Between his aunt and himself, his mother had divided her fortune; and young Harry thus fell heir to a portion of about five thousand pounds.

Being of a roving mind, as he approached his majority he grew restless of the retirement of a country place; especially as he had no profession or business of any kind to engage his attention.

In vain did Bury, with all its fine old monastic attractions, lure him to abide on the beautiful banks of her Larke, and under the shadow of her stately and storied old Saxon tower.

By all my rare old historic associations, breathed Bury; by my Abbey-gate, that bears to this day the arms of Edward the Confessor; by my carved roof of the old church of St. Mary’s, which escaped the low rage of the bigoted Puritans; by the royal ashes of Mary Tudor, that sleep in my midst; by my Norman ruins, and by all the old abbots of Bury, do not, oh Harry!

abandon me.

Where will you find shadier walks than under my lime-trees?

where lovelier gardens than those within the old walls of my monastery, approached through my lordly Gate?

Or if, oh Harry!

indifferent to my historic mosses, and caring not for my annual verdure, thou must needs be lured by other tassels, and wouldst fain, like the Prodigal, squander thy patrimony, then, go not away from old Bury to do it.

For here, on Angel-Hill, are my coffee and card-rooms, and billiard saloons, where you may lounge away your mornings, and empty your glass and your purse as you list.

In vain.

Bury was no place for the adventurous Harry, who must needs hie to London, where in one winter, in the company of gambling sportsmen and dandies, he lost his last sovereign.

What now was to be done?

His friends made interest for him in the requisite quarters, and Harry was soon embarked for Bombay, as a midshipman in the East India service; in which office he was known as a _“guinea-pig,”_ a humorous appellation then bestowed upon the middies of the Company.

And considering the perversity of his behavior, his delicate form, and soft complexion, and that gold guineas had been his bane, this appellation was not altogether, in poor Harry’s case, inapplicable.

He made one voyage, and returned; another, and returned; and then threw up his warrant in disgust.

A few weeks’ dissipation in London, and again his purse was almost drained; when, like many prodigals, scorning to return home to his aunt, and amend—though she had often written him the kindest of letters to that effect—Harry resolved to precipitate himself upon the New World, and there carve out a fresh fortune.

With this object in view, he packed his trunks, and took the first train for Liverpool.

Arrived in that town, he at once betook himself to the docks, to examine the American shipping, when a new crotchet entered his brain, born of his old sea reminiscences.

It was to assume duck browsers and tarpaulin, and gallantly cross the Atlantic as a sailor.

There was a dash of romance in it; a taking abandonment; and scorn of fine coats, which exactly harmonized with his reckless contempt, at the time, for all past conventionalities.

Thus determined, he exchanged his trunk for a mahogany chest; sold some of his superfluities; and moved his quarters to the sign of the Gold Anchor in Union-street.

After making his acquaintance, and learning his intentions, I was all anxiety that Harry should accompany me home in the Highlander, a desire to which he warmly responded.

Nor was I without strong hopes that he would succeed in an application to the captain; inasmuch as during our stay in the docks, three of our crew had left us, and their places would remain unsupplied till just upon the eve of our departure.

And here, it may as well be related, that owing to the heavy charges to which the American ships long staying in Liverpool are subjected, from the obligation to continue the wages of their seamen, when they have little or no work to employ them, and from the necessity of boarding them ashore, like lords, at their leisure, captains interested in the ownership of their vessels, are not at all indisposed to let their sailors abscond, if they please, and thus forfeit their money; for they well know that, when wanted, a new crew is easily to be procured, through the crimps of the port.

Though he spake English with fluency, and from his long service in the vessels of New York, was almost an American to behold, yet Captain Riga was in fact a Russian by birth, though this was a fact that he strove to conceal.

And though extravagant in his personal expenses, and even indulging in luxurious habits, costly as Oriental dissipation, yet Captain Riga was a niggard to others; as, indeed, was evinced in the magnificent stipend of three dollars, with which he requited my own valuable services.

Therefore, as it was agreed between Harry and me, that he should offer to ship as a _“boy,”_ at the same rate of compensation with myself, I made no doubt that, incited by the cheapness of the bargain, Captain Riga would gladly close with him; and thus, instead of paying sixteen dollars a month to a thorough-going tar, who would consume all his rations, buy up my young blade of Bury, at the rate of half a dollar a week; with the cheering prospect, that by the end of the voyage, his fastidious palate would be the means of leaving a handsome balance of salt beef and pork in the _harness-cask.

_ With part of the money obtained by the sale of a few of his velvet vests, Harry, by my advice, now rigged himself in a Guernsey frock and man-of-war browsers; and thus equipped, he made his appearance, one fine morning, on the quarterdeck of the Highlander, gallantly doffing his virgin tarpaulin before the redoubtable Riga.

No sooner were his wishes made known, than I perceived in the captain’s face that same bland, benevolent, and bewitchingly merry expression, that had so charmed, but deceived me, when, with Mr. Jones, I had first accosted him in the cabin.

Alas, Harry!

thought I,—as I stood upon the forecastle looking astern where they stood,—that _“gallant, gay deceiver”_ shall not altogether cajole you, if Wellingborough can help it.

Rather than that should be the case, indeed, I would forfeit the pleasure of your society across the Atlantic.

At this interesting interview the captain expressed a sympathetic concern touching the sad necessities, which he took upon himself to presume must have driven Harry to sea; he confessed to a warm interest in his future welfare; and did not hesitate to declare that, in going to America, under such circumstances, to seek his fortune, he was acting a manly and spirited part; and that the voyage thither, as a sailor, would be an invigorating preparative to the landing upon a shore, where he must battle out his fortune with Fate.

He engaged him at once; but was sorry to say, that he could not provide him a home on board till the day previous to the sailing of the ship;

and during the interval, he could not honor any drafts upon the strength of his wages.

However, glad enough to conclude the agreement upon any terms at all, my young blade of Bury expressed his satisfaction; and full of admiration at so urbane and gentlemanly a sea-captain, he came forward to receive my congratulations.

“Harry,” said I, “be not deceived by the fascinating Riga—that gay Lothario of all inexperienced, sea-going youths, from the capital or the country; he has a Janus-face, Harry; and you will not know him when he gets you out of sight of land, and mouths his cast-off coats and browsers.

For _then_ he is another personage altogether, and adjusts his character to the shabbiness of his integuments.

No more condolings and sympathy then; no more blarney; he will hold you a little better than his boots, and would no more think of addressing you than of invoking wooden Donald, the figure-head on our bows.

” And I further admonished my friend concerning our crew, particularly of the diabolical Jackson, and warned him to be cautious and wary.

I told him, that unless he was somewhat accustomed to the rigging, and could furl a royal in a squall, he would be sure to subject himself to a sort of treatment from the sailors, in the last degree ignominious to any mortal who had ever crossed his legs under mahogany.

And I played the inquisitor, in cross-questioning Harry respecting the precise degree in which he was a practical sailor;—whether he had a giddy head; whether his arms could bear the weight of his body;

whether, with but one hand on a shroud, a hundred feet aloft in a tempest, he felt he could look right to windward and beard it.

To all this, and much more, Harry rejoined with the most off-hand and confident air; saying that in his _“guinea-pig”_ days, he had often climbed the masts and handled the sails in a gentlemanly and amateur way; so he made no doubt that he would very soon prove an expert tumbler in the Highlander’s rigging.

His levity of manner, and sanguine assurance, coupled with the constant sight of his most unseamanlike person—more suited to the Queen’s drawing-room than a ship’s forecastle-bred many misgivings in my mind.

But after all, every one in this world has his own fate intrusted to himself; and though we may warn, and forewarn, and give sage advice, and indulge in many apprehensions touching our friends; yet our friends, for the most part, will _“gang their ain gate;”_ and the most we can do is, to hope for the best.

Still, I suggested to Harry, whether he had not best cross the sea as a steerage passenger, since he could procure enough money for that; but no, he was bent upon going as a sailor.

I now had a comrade in my afternoon strolls, and Sunday excursions; and as Harry was a generous fellow, he shared with me his purse and his heart.

He sold off several more of his fine vests and browsers, his silver-keyed flute and enameled guitar; and a portion of the money thus furnished was pleasantly spent in refreshing ourselves at the road-side inns in the vicinity of the town.

Reclining side by side in some agreeable nook, we exchanged our experiences of the past.

Harry enlarged upon the fascinations of a London life; described the curricle he used to drive in Hyde Park; gave me the measurement of Madame Vestris’ ankle; alluded to his first introduction at a club to the madcap Marquis of Waterford; told over the sums he had lost upon the turf on a Derby day; and made various but enigmatical allusions to a certain Lady Georgiana Theresa, the noble daughter of an anonymous earl.

Even in conversation, Harry was a prodigal; squandering his aristocratic narrations with a careless hand; and, perhaps, sometimes spending funds of reminiscences not his own.

As for me, I had only my poor old uncle the senator to fall back upon;

and I used him upon all emergencies, like the knight in the game of chess; making him hop about, and stand stiffly up to the encounter, against all my fine comrade’s array of dukes, lords, curricles, and countesses.

In these long talks of ours, I frequently expressed the earnest desire I cherished, to make a visit to London; and related how strongly tempted I had been one Sunday, to walk the whole way, without a penny in my pocket.

To this, Harry rejoined, that nothing would delight him more, than to show me the capital; and he even meaningly but mysteriously hinted at the possibility of his doing so, before many days had passed.

But this seemed so idle a thought, that I only imputed it to my friend’s good-natured, rattling disposition, which sometimes prompted him to out with any thing, that he thought would be agreeable.

Besides, would this fine blade of Bury be seen, by his aristocratic acquaintances, walking down Oxford-street, say, arm in arm with the sleeve of my shooting-jacket?

The thing was preposterous; and I began to think, that Harry, after all, was a little bit disposed to impose upon my Yankee credulity.

Luckily, my Bury blade had no acquaintance in Liverpool, where, indeed, he was as much in a foreign land, as if he were already on the shores of Lake Erie; so that he strolled about with me in perfect abandonment;

reckless of the cut of my shooting-jacket; and not caring one whit who might stare at so singular a couple.

But once, crossing a square, faced on one side by a fashionable hotel, he made a rapid turn with me round a corner; and never stopped, till the square was a good block in our rear.

The cause of this sudden retreat, was a remarkably elegant coat and pantaloons, standing upright on the hotel steps, and containing a young buck, tapping his teeth with an ivory-headed riding-whip.

“Who was he, Harry?

” said I. “My old chum, Lord Lovely,” said Harry, with a careless air, “and Heaven only knows what brings Lovely from London.

” “A lord?

” said I starting; “then I must look at him again;” for lords are very scarce in Liverpool.

Unmindful of my companion’s remonstrances, I ran back to the corner;

and slowly promenaded past the upright coat and pantaloons on the steps.

It was not much of a lord to behold; very thin and limber about the legs, with small feet like a doll’s, and a small, glossy head like a seal’s. I had seen just such looking lords standing in sentimental attitudes in front of Palmo’s in Broadway.

However, he and I being mutual friends of Harry’s, I thought something of accosting him, and taking counsel concerning what was best to be done for the young prodigal’s welfare; but upon second thoughts I thought best not to intrude; especially, as just then my lord Lovely stepped to the open window of a flashing carriage which drew up; and throwing himself into an interesting posture, with the sole of one boot vertically exposed, so as to show the stamp on it—a coronet—fell into a sparkling conversation with a magnificent white satin hat, surmounted by a regal marabou feather, inside.

I doubted not, this lady was nothing short of a peeress; and thought it would be one of the pleasantest and most charming things in the world, just to seat myself beside her, and order the coachman to take us a drive into the country.

But, as upon further consideration, I imagined that the peeress might decline the honor of my company, since I had no formal card of introduction; I marched on, and rejoined my companion, whom I at once endeavored to draw out, touching Lord Lovely; but he only made mysterious answers; and turned off the conversation, by allusions to his visits to Ickworth in Suffolk, the magnificent seat of the Most Noble Marquis of Bristol, who had repeatedly assured Harry that he might consider Ickworth his home.

Now, all these accounts of marquises and Ickworths, and Harry’s having been hand in glove with so many lords and ladies, began to breed some suspicions concerning the rigid morality of my friend, as a teller of the truth.

But, after all, thought I to myself, who can prove that Harry has fibbed?

Certainly, his manners are polished, he has a mighty easy address; and there is nothing altogether impossible about his having consorted with the master of Ickworth, and the daughter of the anonymous earl.

And what right has a poor Yankee, like me, to insinuate the slightest suspicion against what he says?

What little money he has, he spends freely; he can not be a polite blackleg, for I am no pigeon to pluck; so _that_ is out of the question;—perish such a thought, concerning my own bosom friend!

But though I drowned all my suspicions as well as I could, and ever cherished toward Harry a heart, loving and true; yet, spite of all this, I never could entirely digest some of his imperial reminiscences of high life.

I was very sorry for this; as at times it made me feel ill at ease in his company; and made me hold back my whole soul from him; when, in its loneliness, it was yearning to throw itself into the unbounded bosom of some immaculate friend.

CHAPTER XLV. HARRY BOLTON KIDNAPS REDBURN, AND CARRIES HIM OFF TO LONDON

It might have been a week after our glimpse of Lord Lovely, that Harry, who had been expecting a letter, which, he told me, might possibly alter his plans, one afternoon came bounding on board the ship, and sprang down the hatchway into the _between-decks,_ where, in perfect solitude, I was engaged picking oakum; at which business the mate had set me, for want of any thing better.

“Hey for London, Wellingborough!

” he cried.

“Off tomorrow!

first train—be there the same night—come!

I have money to rig you all out—drop that hangman’s stuff there, and away!

Pah!

how it smells here!

Come; up you jump!

” I trembled with amazement and delight.

London?

it could not be!

—and Harry—how kind of him!

he was then indeed what he seemed.

But instantly I thought of all the circumstances of the case, and was eager to know what it was that had induced this sudden departure.

In reply my friend told me, that he had received a remittance, and had hopes of recovering a considerable sum, lost in some way that he chose to conceal.

“But how am I to leave the ship, Harry?

” said I; “they will not let me go, will they?

You had better leave me behind, after all; I don’t care very much about going; and besides, I have no money to share the expenses.

” This I said, only pretending indifference, for my heart was jumping all the time.

“Tut!

my Yankee bantam,” said Harry; “look here!

” and he showed me a handful of gold.

“But they are _yours,_ and not _mine,_ Harry,” said I. “Yours _and_ mine, my sweet fellow,” exclaimed Harry.

“Come, sink the ship, and let’s go!

” “But you don’t consider, if I quit the ship, they’ll be sending a constable after me, won’t they?

” “What!

and do you think, then, they value your services so highly?

Ha!

ha!

-Up, up, Wellingborough: I can’t wait.

” True enough.

I well knew that Captain Riga would not trouble himself much, if I _did_ take French leave of him.

So, without further thought of the matter, I told Harry to wait a few moments, till the ship’s bell struck four; at which time I used to go to supper, and be free for the rest of the day.

The bell struck; and off we went.

As we hurried across the quay, and along the dock walls, I asked Harry all about his intentions.

He said, that go to London he must, and to Bury St. Edmunds; but that whether he should for any time remain at either place, he could not now tell; and it was by no means impossible, that in less than a week’s time we would be back again in Liverpool, and ready for sea.

But all he said was enveloped in a mystery that I did not much like; and I hardly know whether I have repeated correctly what he said at the time.

Arrived at the _Golden Anchor,_ where Harry put up, he at once led me to his room, and began turning over the contents of his chest, to see what clothing he might have, that would fit me.

Though he was some years my senior, we were about the same size—if any thing, I was larger than he; so, with a little stretching, a shirt, vest, and pantaloons were soon found to suit.

As for a coat and hat, those Harry ran out and bought without delay; returning with a loose, stylish sack-coat, and a sort of foraging cap, very neat, genteel, and unpretending.

My friend himself soon doffed his Guernsey frock, and stood before me, arrayed in a perfectly plain suit, which he had bought on purpose that very morning.

I asked him why he had gone to that unnecessary expense, when he had plenty of other clothes in his chest.

But he only winked, and looked knowing.

This, again, I did not like.

But I strove to drown ugly thoughts.