Poor Jack

"That's true as gospel," observed my father; "but still, if he had said nothing worse than that, I should not have minded. I do think that Jack is now old enough to do something better; and I must say, I do not dislike his wishing so to do—for it is begging for halfpence, arter all."

"Well, boy," said Peter Anderson, "suppose you leave your father and me to talk over the matter; and to-morrow, by this time, we will tell you what we think will be best."

"Anything—anything," replied I, "but being a beggar."

"Go along, you are a foolish boy," said Anderson.

"I like his spirit, though," said my father, as I walked away.

On the next day the important question was to be decided. I did not go to the stairs to follow up my vocation. I had talked the matter over with Virginia, who, although she did not like that I should go away, had agreed with me that she objected to my begging for money. I waited very impatiently for the time that Anderson had appointed, and, at last, he and my father came together, when the former said:

"Well, Jack, it appears that you do not like to be a waterman, and that you have no great fancy for a man-of-war, although you have a hankering for the sea. Now, as you cannot cruise with your friend Spicer on the Spanish Main, nor yet be safe from impressment in a privateer or merchantman, we have been thinking that, perhaps, you would have no objection to be a channel and river pilot; and if so, I have an old friend in that service who, I think, may help you. What do you say?"

"I should like it very much."

"Yes, it is a good service, and a man is usefully employed. You may be the means, as soon as you are out of your time, and have passed your examination, of saving many a vessel and more lives. You have had a pretty fair education, indeed quite sufficient; and, as you will often be coming up the river, you will have opportunities of seeing your father and your friends. If you decide, I will write at once."

"It is the very thing that I should like," replied I; "and many thanks to you, Anderson."

"And it's exactly what I should wish also," replied my father. "So that job's jobbed, as the saying is."

After this arrangement, I walked away as proud as if I had been an emancipated slave. That very evening I announced my intention of resigning my office of "Poor Jack," and named as my successor the boy with whom I had fought so desperately to obtain it, when the prospect was held out to me, by old Ben, of my becoming Poor Jack—forever.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Much ado about Nothing; or, a Specimen of modern Patronage

I communicated to my mother and Virginia my father's intentions relative to my future employ, and was not surprised to find my mother very much pleased with the intelligence, for she had always considered my situation of "Poor Jack" as disgracing her family—declaring it the "most ungenteelest" of all occupations. Perhaps she was not only glad of my giving up the situation, but also of my quitting her house. My father desired me to wear my Sunday clothes during the week, and ordered me a new suit for my best, which he paid for out of the money which he had placed in the hands of the lieutenant of the hospital; and I was very much surprised to perceive my mother cutting out half-a-dozen new shirts for me, which she and Virginia were employed making up during the evenings. Not that my mother told me who the shirts were for—she said nothing; but Virginia whispered it to me: my mother could not be even gracious to me. Nevertheless, the shirts and several other necessaries, such as stockings and pocket-handkerchiefs, were placed for my use on my father's sea-chest, in my room, without any comment on her part, although she had paid for them out of her own purse. During the time that elapsed from my giving up the situation of "Poor Jack" to my quitting Greenwich, I remained very quietly in my mother's house, doing everything that I could for her, and employing myself chiefly in reading books, which I borrowed anywhere that I could. I was very anxious to get rid of my sobriquet of "Poor Jack," and when so called would tell everybody that my name was now "Thomas Saunders."

One Sunday, about three weeks after I had given up my berth, I was walking with my father and Virginia on the terrace of the hospital, when we perceived a large party of ladies and gentlemen coming toward us. My father was very proud of us. I had this very day put on the new suit of clothes which he had ordered for me, and which had been cut out in the true man-of-war fashion; and Virginia was, as usual, very nicely dressed. We were walking toward the party who were advancing, when all of a sudden my father started, and exclaimed:

"Well, shiver my timbers! if it ain't she—and he—by all that's blue!"

Who she or he might be neither Virginia nor I could imagine; but I looked at the party, who were now close to us, and perceived, in advance of the rest, an enormous lady, dressed in a puce-colored pelisse and a white satin bonnet. Her features were good, and, had they been on a smaller scale, would have been considered handsome. She towered above the rest of the company, and there was but one man who could at all compete with her in height and size, and he was by her side.

My father stopped, took off his cocked hat, and scraped the gravel with his timber toe, as he bowed a little forward.

"Sarvant, your honor's ladyship. Sarvant, your honor Sir Hercules."

"Ah! who have we here?" replied Sir Hercules, putting his hand up as a screen above his eyes. "Who are you, my man?" continued he.

"Tom Saunders, your honor's coxswain, as was in the 'Druid,'" replied my father, with another scrape of the gravel, "taken in moorings at last, your honor. Hope to see your honor and your honorable ladyship quite well."

"I recollect you now, my man," replied Sir Hercules, very stiffly. "And where did you lose your leg?"

"Battle o' the Nile, your honor; Majesty's ship Oudacious.'"

"How interesting!" observed one of the ladies; "one of Sir Hercules' old men."

"Yes, madam, and one of my best men. Lady Hercules, you must recollect him," said Sir Hercules.

"I should think so, Sir Hercules," replied the lady; "did I not give him my own lady's maid in marriage?"

"Dear me, how excessively interesting!" said another of the party.

Now, this was a little event in which Sir Hercules and Lady Hercules stood prominent; it added to their importance for the moment, and therefore they were both pleased. Lady Hercules then said, "And pray, my good man, how is your wife?"

"Quite well and hearty, at your ladyship's sarvice," replied my father; "and, please your ladyship, these two be our children."

"Bless me, how interesting!" exclaimed another lady.

"And remarkably well-bred 'uns," remarked a short gentleman in a fox-hunting coat, examining Virginia through his eye-glass; "coxswain, filly—dam, lady's maid."

"What is your name, child?" said Lady Hercules to Virginia.

"Virginia, ma'am," replied my sister, with a courtesy.

"You must say 'Lady Hercules,' my dear," said my father, stooping down.

"My name is Virginia, Lady Hercules," replied my sister, courtesying again.

"Indeed; then I suppose you are named after me?"

"Yes, your ladyship; hope no offense—but we did take the liberty," replied my father.

"And what is yours, boy?"

"Thomas, Lady Hercules," replied I, with a bow and scrape, after my father's receipt for politeness.

"And where is your mother?" said Sir Hercules.

"Mother's at home, Lady Hercules," replied I, with another scrape.

"How very interesting!" exclaimed one of the party. "Quite an event!" said another. "A delightful rencontre!" cried a third. "How kind of you, Lady Hercules, to give up your own maid! and such handsome children," etc., etc. "It's really quite charming."

Lady Hercules was evidently much pleased, and she assumed the patroness.

"Well, little girl, since you have been named after me, out of gratitude I must see what can be done for you. Tell your mother to come up to me to-morrow at three o'clock, and bring you with her."

"Yes, Lady Hercules," replied Virginia, with a courtesy.

"And, Saunders, you may as well come up at the same time, and bring your lad with you," added Sir Hercules.

"Yes, your honor," replied my father, both he and I simultaneously scraping the gravel.

"Wish your honor Sir Hercules, and your honorable lady, and all the honorable company, a very good-morning," continued my father, taking Virginia and me by the hand to lead us away.

Sir Hercules touched his hat in return, and walked away as stiff as usual. The pensioners who had witnessed the interview between him and my father, concluding that Sir Hercules was a naval officer, now rose and touched their hats to him as he walked with her ladyship in advance of the party. We joined Anderson, who was sitting down at the other end of the walk, when my father communicated to him what had passed.