The Astonishing History of Troy Town Part 37

The sun was high when he awoke, and as he descended to breakfast he heard Caleb's mallet already at work on the quay below.

Still, anxious to set his doubts at rest, he made a hasty meal, and walked down to take a second opinion on the vision.

Caleb, with his back towards the house, was busily fitting a new thwart into Mr. Fogo's boat, and singing with extreme gaiety--

"Oh, where be the French dogs?

Oh! where be they, O?

They be down i' their long-boats, All on the salt say, O!"

What with the song and the hammering, he did not hear his master's approach.

"Up flies the kite, An' down flies the lark, O!

Wi' hale an' tow, rumbleow--"

"Good-morning, Caleb."

"Aw, mornin' to 'ee, sir. You took me unawares--

"All for to fetch home, The summer an' the May, O!

For summer is a-come, An' winter es a-go.'"

"Caleb, I have seen a ghost."

The mallet stopped in mid-descent. Caleb looked up again open-mouthed.

"Tom Twist and Harry Dingle!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Figger o' speech, sir, meanin' 'Who'd ha' thought et?' Whose ghost, sir, ef 'taint a rude question?"

Mr. Fogo told his story.

At its conclusion, Caleb laid down his mallet and whistled.

"'Tes the leppards, sure 'nuff, a-ha'ntin' o' th' ould place.

Scriptur' says they will not change their spots, an' I'm blest ef et don't say truth. But deary me, sir, an' axin' your pardon for sayin'

so, you'm a game-c.o.c.k, an' no mistake."

"I?"

"Iss, sir. Two knacks 'pon the floor, an' I'd ha' been up in a jiffey. But niver mind, sir, us'll wait up for mun to-night, an'

I'll get the loan o' the Dearlove's blunderbust in case they gets pol-rumptious."

Mr. Fogo deprecated the blunderbuss, but agreed to sit up for the ghost; and so for the time the matter dropped. But Caleb's eyes followed his master admiringly for the rest of the day, and more than once he had to express his feelings in vigorous soliloquy.

"Niver tell me! Looks as ef he'd no more pluck nor a field-mouse; an' I'm darned ef he takes more 'count of a ghost than he wud of a circuit-preacher. Blest ef I don't think ef a sperrit was to knack at the front door, he'd tell 'un to wipe hes feet 'pon the mat, an'

make hissel' at home. Well, well, seein's believin', as Tommy said when he spied Noah's Ark i' the peep-show."

Footnote, Chapter XVII [1] I cannot forbear to add a note on this eminently Trojan word. In the fifteenth century, so high was the spirit of the Trojan sea-captains, and so heavy the toll of black-mail they levied on s.h.i.+ps of other ports, that King Edward IV sent poursuivant after poursuivant to threaten his displeasure.

The messengers had their ears slit for their pains; and "poursuivanting" or "p.u.s.s.ivanting" survives as a term for ineffective bustle.

CHAPTER XVIII.

OF A YOUNG MAN THAT WOULD START UPON A DARK ADVENTURE, BUT HAD TWO MINDS UPON IT.

At ten o'clock on this same morning Mr. Samuel Buzza sat by the Club window, alternately skimming his morning paper and sipping his morning draught. He was alone, for the habit of early rising was fast following the other virtues of antique Troy, and the members rarely mustered in force before eleven.

He had read all the murders and sporting intelligence, and was about to glance at the affairs of Europe, when Mrs. Cripps, the caretaker, entered in a hurry and a clean white ap.r.o.n.

"If you please, sir, there's Seth Udy's little boy below with a note for you. I'd have brought it up, but he says he must give it hisself."

Sam, descending with some wonder, encountered Mr. Moggridge in the pa.s.sage. The rivals drew aside to let each other pa.s.s. On the doorstep stood a ragged urchin, and waved a letter.

"For you, sir; an' plaise you'm to tell me 'yes' or 'no,' so quick as possible."

Sam took the letter, glanced at the neat, feminine handwriting of the address, and tore open the envelope.

"Dear Mr. Buzza, If you care to remember what was spoken the other evening, you will to-night help a _most unhappy woman_. You will go to the captain's cabin of the Wreck which we visited together, and find there _a small portmanteau_. It may be carried in the hand, and holds the few necessaries I have hidden for my flight, but please carry it carefully. If you will be waiting with this by the sign-post at the Five-Lanes' corner, at 11.30 _to-night_, no _words_ of mine will repay you. Should you refuse, I am a wretched woman; but in any case I know I may trust you to say no word of this.

"Look out for the _closed carriage and pair_. A word to the bearer will tell me that I may hope, or that you care nothing for me.

G. G.-S.

"P.S.--Be very careful _not to shake the portmanteau_."

"What be I to say, plaise, sir?"

Sam, who had read the letter for a third time syllable by syllable, looked around helplessly.

"Ef you plaise, what be I to say?"

Sam very heartily wished both boy and letter to the devil.

He groaned aloud, and was about to answer, when he paused suddenly.

In the room above Mr. Moggridge was singing a jaunty stave.

The sound goaded Sam to madness; he ground his teeth and made up his mind.

"Say 'yes,'" he answered, shortly.

The word was no sooner spoken than he wished it recalled. But the urchin had taken to his heels. With an angry sigh Sam let circ.u.mstance decide for him, and returned to the reading-room.

No doubt the consciousness that pique had just betrayed his judgment made him the more inclined to quarrel with the poet. But a.s.suredly the sight that met his eyes caused his blood to boil; for Mr.

Moggridge was calmly in possession of the chair and newspaper which Sam had but a moment since resigned.