Jacob Faithful Part 41

"Cooling the wine, sir."

"Who, then, can fry fish, I ask?"

"I can, sir," replied Tom; "but not without b.u.t.ter."

"b.u.t.ter shalt thou have, thou disturber of the element. Have we not _Hiren_ here?"

"I wasn't _hired_ as a cook, at all events," replied Tom: "but I'm rather a _dab_ at it."

"Then shalt thou have the _place_," replied the actor.

"With all my heart and _soul_," cried Tom, taking out his knife, and commencing the necessary operation of skinning the fish.

In half-an-hour all was ready: the fair t.i.tania did me the honour to seat herself upon my jacket, to ward off any damp from the ground. The other ladies had also taken their respective seats, as allotted by the mistress of the revels; the tables were covered by many of the good things of this life; the soup was ready in a tureen at one end, and Tom had just placed the fish on the table, while Mr Quince and Winterbottom, by the commands of t.i.tania, were despatched for the wine and other varieties of potations. When they returned, eyeing one another askance, Winterbottom looking daggers at his opponent, and Quince not quite easy even under the protection of t.i.tania, Tom had just removed the frying-pan from the fire with its residuary grease still bubbling. Quince having deposited his load, was about to sit down, when a freak came into Tom's head, which, however, he dared not put into execution himself; but "a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse,"

says the proverb. Winterbottom stood before Tom, and Quince with his back to them. Tom looked at Winterbottom, pointing slily to the frying-pan, and then to the hinder parts of Quince. Winterbottom s.n.a.t.c.hed the hint and the frying-pan at the same moment. Quince squatted himself down with a serge, as they say at sea, quoting at the time--"Marry, our play is the most lamentable comedy"--but putting his hands behind him, to soften his fall, they were received into the hot frying-pan, inserted behind him by Winterbottom.

"Oh, Lord! oh! oh!" shrieked Mr Quince, springing up like lightning, bounding in the air with the pain, his hands behind him still adhering to the frying-pan.

At the first scream of Mr Quince, the whole party had been terrified; the idea was that a snake had bitten him, and the greatest alarm prevailed; but when they perceived the cause of the disaster, even his expressions of pain could not prevent their mirth. It was too ludicrous. Still the gentlemen and ladies condoled with him, but Mr Quince was not to be reasoned with. He walked away to the river-side, Mr Winterbottom slily enjoying his revenge, for no one but Tom had an idea that it was anything but an accident. Mr Quince's party of pleasure was spoiled, but the others did not think it necessary that theirs should be also. A "really very sorry for poor Western," and a half-dozen "poor fellows!" intermingled with t.i.ttering, was all that his misfortunes called forth after his departure; and then they set to like French falconers. The soup was swallowed, the fish disappeared, joints were cut up, pies delivered up their hidden treasures, fowls were dismembered like rotten boroughs, corks were drawn, others flew without the trouble, and they did eat and were filled. Mr Winterbottom kept his eye upon the salad, his favourite condiment, mixed it himself, offered it to all, and was glad to find that no one would spare time to eat it; but Mr Winterbottom could eat for everybody, and he did eat.

The fragments were cleared away, and handed over to us. We were very busy, doing as ample justice to them as the party had done before us, when Mr Winterbottom was observed to turn very pale, and appeared very uneasy.

"What's the matter?" inquired Mr Tinfoil.

"I'm--I'm not very well--I--I'm afraid something has disagreed with me.

I'm very ill," exclaimed Mr Winterbottom, turning as white as a sheet, and s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his mouth.

"It must be the salad," said one of the ladies; "no one has eaten it but yourself, and we are all well."

"I--rather think--it must be--oh--I do recollect that I thought the oil had a queer taste."

"Why there was no oil in the castors," replied Tinfoil. "I desired Jenkins to get some."

"So did I, particularly," replied Winterbottom. "Oh!--oh, dear--oh, dear!"

"Jenkins," cried Tinfoil, "where did you get the oil for the castors?

What oil did you get?--are you sure it was right?"

"Yes, sir, quite sure," replied Jenkins. "I brought it here in a bottle, and put it into the castors before dinner."

"Where did you buy it?"

"At the chemist's, sir. Here's the bottle;" and Jenkins produced a bottle with _castor_ oil in large letters labelled on the side.

The murder was out. Mr Winterbottom groaned, rose from his seat, for he felt very sick indeed. The misfortunes of individuals generally add to the general quota of mirth, and Mr Winterbottom's misfortune had the same effect as that of Mr Quince. But where was poor Mr Quince all this time? He had sent for the iron kettle in which the soup had been warmed up, and filling it full of Thames water, had immersed the afflicted parts in the cooling element. There he sat with his hands plunged deep, when Mr Winterbottom made his appearance at the same spot and Mr Quince was comforted by witnessing the state of his enemy.

Indeed, the sight of Winterbottom's distress did more to soothe Mr Quince's pain than all the Thames water in the world. He rose, and leaving Winterbottom, with his two hands to his head, leaning against a tree, joined the party, and pledged the ladies in succession, till he was more than half tipsy.

In the s.p.a.ce of half-an-hour Mr Winterbottom returned, trembling and s.h.i.+vering as if he had been suffering under an ague. A b.u.mper or two of brandy restored him, and before the day closed in, both Winterbottom and Quince, one applying stimulants to his stomach, and the other drowning his sense of pain in repeated libations, were in a state (to say the least of it) of incipient intoxication. But there is a time for all things, and it was time to return. The evening had pa.s.sed freely; song had followed song. Tinfoil had tried his bugle, and played not a little out of tune; the flute also neglected the flats and sharps as of no consequence; the ladies thought the gentlemen rather too forward, and, in short, it was time to break up the party. The hampers were repacked, and handed half-empty, into the boat. Of wine there was a little left; and by the direction of t.i.tania, the plates, dishes, etcetera, only were to be returned, and the fragments divided among the boatmen. The company re-embarked in high spirits, and we had the ebb-tide to return with. Just as we were shoving off, it was remembered that the ice-pail had been left under the tree, besides a basket with sundries. The other wherries had shoved off, and they were in consequence brought into our boat, in which we had the same company as before, with the exception of Mr Western, _alias_ Quince, who preferred the boat which carried the hampers, that he might loll over the side, with his hands in the water.

Mr Winterbottom soon showed the effects of the remedy he had taken against the effects of the castor oil. He was uproarious, and it was with difficulty that he could be persuaded to sit still in the boat, much to the alarm of t.i.tania and the other ladies. He would make violent love to the fairy queen; and as he constantly s.h.i.+fted his position to address her and throw himself at her feet, there was some danger of the boat being upset. At last Tom proposed to him to sit on the pail before her, as then he could address her with safety; and Winterbottom staggered up to take the seat. As he was seating himself, Tom took off the cover, so that he was plunged into the half-liquid ice; but Mr Winterbottom was too drunk to perceive it. He continued to rant and to rave, and protest and vow, and even spout for some time, when suddenly the quant.i.ty of caloric extracted from him produced its effect.

"I--I--really believe that the night is damp--the dew falls--the seat is damp, fair t.i.tania."

"It's only fancy, Mr Winterbottom," replied t.i.tania who was delighted with his situation. "Jean trousers are cool in the evening; it's only an excuse to get away from me, and I never will speak again to you if you quit your seat."

"The fair t.i.tania, the mistress of my soul, and body too, if she pleases--has--but to command--and her slave obeys."

"I rather think it is a little damp," said Tinfoil; "allow me to throw a little sand upon your seat;" and Tinfoil pulled out a large paper bag full of salt, which he strewed over the ice.

Winterbottom was satisfied, and remained; but by the time we had reached Vauxhall Bridge, the refrigeration had become so complete that he was fixed on the ice, which the application of the salt had made solid. He complained of cold, s.h.i.+vered, attempted to rise, but could not extricate himself; at last his teeth chattered, and he became almost sober; but he was helpless from the effects of the castor oil, his intermediate intoxication, and his present state of numbness. He spoke less and less; at last he was silent, and when we arrived at Whitehall stairs he was firmly fixed in the ice. When released he could not walk, and he was sent home in a hackney-coach.

"It was cruel to punish him so, Mr Tinfoil," said t.i.tania.

"Cruel punishment! Why, yes; a sort of _impailment_," replied Mr Tinfoil, offering his arm.

The remainder of the party landed and walked home, followed by the two a.s.sistants, who took charge of the crockery; and thus ended the pic-nic party, which, as Tom said, was the very funniest day he had ever spent in his life.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

MR. TURNBULL "SETS HIS HOUSE IN ORDER"--MRS. T THINKS SUCH CONDUCT VERY DISORDERLY--THE CAPTAIN AT HIS OLD TRICKS WITH HIS HARPOON--HE PAYS HIS LADY'S DEBTS OF HONOUR, AND GIVES THE APPLICANT A QUITTANCE UNDER HIS OWN FOOT--MONSIEUR AND MADAME TAGLIABUE WITHDRAW FROM THE SOCIETY OF "CES BARBARES LES ANGLAIS."

It was on the Sunday after the picnic party, when, feeling I had neglected Captain Turnbull, and that he would think it unkind of me not to go near him, after having accompanied Mary to church, I set off on foot to his villa near Brentford. I rang at the porter's lodge, and asked whether he was at home.

"Yes, sir," replied the old woman at the lodge, who was very communicative, and very friendly with me; "and missus be at home too."

I walked up the carriage-drive of one hundred yards, which led to the entrance-door; and when I rang it was opened by a servant I had not seen before as belonging to the establishment. "Where is Mr Turnbull?"

inquired I.

"He is in his own room, sir," replied the man; "but you must send up your name, if you please, as every one is not admitted."

I must observe to the reader that I was not dressed in jacket and trousers. The money I earned was more than sufficient to supply all my expenses, and I had fitted on what are called at sea, and on the river, _long togs_. I was dressed as most people are on sh.o.r.e. The servant evidently took me for a gentleman; and perhaps, as far as dress went, I was ent.i.tled to that distinction. Many people are received as such in this world with less claims than I had. I gave my name; the man left me at the door, and soon returned, requesting that I would follow him. I must say that I was rather astonished; where were Mr Mortimer and the two men in flaunting liveries, and long cotton epaulettes with things like little marline-spikes hanging to the ends of them? Even the livery was changed, being a plain brown coat, with light blue collar and cuffs.

I was, however, soon made acquainted with what had taken place on my entering the apartment of Mr Turnbull--his study, as Mrs T called it, although Mr Turnbull insisted upon calling it his cabin, a name certainly more appropriate, as it contained but two small shelves of books, the remainder of the s.p.a.ce being filled up with favourite harpoons, porpoise skulls, sharks' jaws, corals, several bears' skins, brown and white, and one or two models of the vessels which had belonged to his brother and himself, and which had been employed in the Greenland fishery. It was, in fact, a sort of museum of all he had collected during his voyages. Esquimaux implements, ornaments and dresses, were lying about in corners; and skins of rare animals, killed by himself, such as black foxes, etcetera, were scattered about the carpet. His sea-chest, full of various articles, was also one of the ornaments of the room, much to the annoyance of Mrs T, who had frequently exerted her influence to get rid of it, but in vain. The only articles of furniture were two sofas, a large table in the centre, and three or four heavy chairs. The only attempt at adornment consisted in a dozen coloured engravings, framed and glazed, of walrus shooting, etcetera, taken from the folio works of Captains Cook and Mulgrave; and a sketch or two by his brother, such as the state of the _William_ pressed by an iceberg on the morning of the 25th of January, lat.i.tude ---, longitude ---.

Captain T was in his morning-gown, evidently not very well, at least he appeared hara.s.sed and pale. "My dear Jacob, this is very kind of you.

I did mean to scold you for not coming before; but I'm too glad to see you to find the heart now. But why have you kept away so long?"

"I have really been very well employed, sir. Stapleton has given me up the wherry, and I could not neglect his interests, even if I did my own."

"Always right, boy; and how are you getting on?"

"I am very happy, sir; very happy, indeed."

"I'm glad to hear it, Jacob; may you always be so. Now, take the other sofa, and let us have a long palaver, as the Indians say. I have something to tell you. I suppose you observed a change--heh?"

"Yes, sir; I observed that Mr Mortimer was not visible."

"Exactly. Mr Mortimer, or John Sn.o.bbs, the rascal, is at present in Newgate for trial: and I mean to send him out on a voyage for the good of his health. I caught the scoundrel at last, and I'll show him no more mercy than I would to a shark that had taken the bait. But that's not all. We have had a regular mutiny and attempt to take the s.h.i.+p from me; but I have them all in irons, and ordered for punishment. Jacob, money is but too often a curse, depend upon it."