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Mary Broad

Thus a year or two went by, and I grew less and less inclined to work honestly on the farm, and father grew more and more dissatisfied with me. Sometimes it was in my mind to take a boat over to Portsmouth and put myself in the way of the press-gangs, and thus get sent to sea in such a way that father would be made to believe that it was through no fault of mine; but yet, I thank God, I reflected that, whatever father might think, my conscience would give me no rest for acting such a lie.

It was about this time that Mary Broad became lady’s-maid to Miss Fairfax, the daughter of the Squire of Solcombe, and I, foolish lad, fell in love with Mary the first time I saw her, and thus, with my love for going a-soldiering and love for her, my mind was in anything but a proper condition.

Squire Fairfax lived at Solcombe Manor House, and was the great man in that neighbourhood. He was a widower, with one son and one daughter, and in appearance was a fine, portly man, with a keen, blue eye and a face that showed his generous heart and hasty temper. The son, Charles Fairfax, was a lieutenant in the Marines at the time that Mary Broad went to live at the Manor House, and I was very jealous of the effect his red coat and gold lace would be likely to have upon the girl.

Mary’s father was a young French officer who had been taken prisoner and confined, with several others, in Porchester Castle on the mainland. He was a lieutenant in a Breton regiment, and the Solcombe folks, when he came to live among them, much as they disliked foreigners, said he was a fine, big, handsome man, and he quickly made friends with the Solcombe people when he was released. As he came of a Huguenot family, no one was surprised at a Solcombe girl falling in love with and marrying him. Yet, such is religious prejudice, that when he died, soon after his daughter’s birth, the village folks said it was a judgment upon his wife for marrying a man who, although a Protestant, was yet a foreigner. His proper name was not Broad, but this is what his English neighbours made of it, and so, after a time, the family were known as the Broads, and Mary always wrote her name in this way. After her husband’s death, Mary’s mother got a living by her needle, sewing for the fine ladies who were friends of and visited the Fairfax family, and contrived to give her daughter some little education, as education went in those days. Then they came over and settled at Newport, and Mrs. Broad opened a little shop, in which Mary served, and in which I used to spend a great deal of my pocket money, for no other reason than for the pleasure of being served by so fair and sweet-looking a young shop-woman.

Old as I am now, I have never forgotten her strangely handsome face and graceful figure. She was so different from the other young girls round about, that her manner, as well as her beauty, attracted notice. Her father was, as I have said, a very handsome man, and she had all his dark eyes and hair, and quick, short manner of speech, and even to Squire Fairfax she preserved a demeanour that, while not quite wanting in respect to such a gentleman, was yet by no means sufficiently humble and proper for one in her condition of life.

Miss Charlotte Fairfax was a spoilt young lady in those days, with a great will of her own, and her father was so bounden to her by his great affection that she could do as she liked with him. One day, when she was in Newport, she went into Mrs. Broad’s shop to purchase some lace, or such-like women’s fallal, and caught sight of Mary.

“Mercy me,” says she, “what a pretty girl! And, pray, who are you, child? and where do you come from?”

Now, the word “child” was not to Mary’s liking, for she tossed her head and gave no pleasant answer, although she knew who it was who spoke to her. Then Mrs. Broad stepped into the shop and explained who they were, and the upshot of it was that Mary went into service at the Manor House as lady’s-maid to Miss Charlotte, and in a few weeks began to look more beautiful than ever, by reason of the better garments that her mistress clothed her with.

The Squire’s daughter was then about two-and-twenty years of age and Mary eighteen. The young lady was a fair-haired and blue-eyed beauty, with a great many silly notions in her head, and a fine contempt for the country life she was leading, and the few opportunities it afforded her to show off the airs and graces she had learned from her grand cousins who lived in London.

She soon made a confidant of Mary, and, indeed, treated her more as a friend than a servant, and I believe that Mary’s natural resolution and serious, determined nature soon dominated Miss Charlotte’s weaker character, and that in name only was pretty, yellow-haired Miss Fairfax her mistress.

Indeed, ’twas this strong, determined nature of hers that made Mary Broad go through so much future misery with calm, unswerving fortitude for Will Bryant— as you will see before I come to the end of this journal.

The Bryants were well known in Solcombe, although they lived a few miles from the village. They came of Irish folk, and were not much liked in the neighbourhood, for the Isle of Wighters thought that the Bryants, being Irishers, must be in secret sympathy with the French, and, as was natural and proper, we hated the French in those days, and were active in showing it, too. Why, I remember, long years afterwards, when there came some fear of Bonaparte landing on the south coast and conquering the country, and making us either turn Papists or let our throats be cut, we formed volunteer companies — that is, we served without pay — to defend the island. There is a story that one day a poor monkey that some sailor had brought home from foreign parts was given by him to an innkeeper in payment for his score. The creature escaped, and was captured late at night somewhere near Shanklin, by some ignorant rustics, and hanged in the belief that the poor animal was a French spy. Of course this story may not be true, and I have my doubts about it; but, however that may be, we were very jealous in our hatred of the French, and, indeed, of people who were suspected of having sympathy with them, and the Isle of Wight rustics, to the present day, are very ignorant. Fortunately, the Bryants were Protestants, and, by reason of this, were not so much suspected and disliked as they would have been had they been Papists, and just at this particular time we did not happen to be quite so bitter against the French, and had not the fear of Bonaparte attempting a landing as we had later on.

The Bryant family, father, mother, and two sons, were either always smuggling or poaching, and the eldest son, William — the only one who has anything to do with this narrative — was the most notorious and daring smuggler on the island. He pretended to get his living as a waterman plying between Ryde and Portsmouth, but precious little work he did in that way. But — and this galled my jealous mind greatly — he had served a commission in a king’s ship at one time, and had been one of a cutting-out party which captured a big French privateer belonging to St. Malo, as she lay at anchor off the French coast. Many a yarn he would tell of his adventures, and this and his fine figure and great strength made him very popular with men and women both. And then, besides, he was a man ever free with his money, and I believe that this had much to do with the hold he gained upon the affections of Mary Broad.

One autumn afternoon in the year 1786, I was walking moodily along the ledge of one of the high cliffs, looking out seawards and thinking what I would give to be the captain of a frigate that was in sight bowling down Channel before a nine-knot breeze, when, as I turned my eyes landward again, I saw Mary coming towards me.

“Ah,” thought I, “to be Captain William Dew, R.N., and to have Mary to wife! What more could man desire?” and then I hastened towards her.

I saw by the turn of her eye that she was not over pleased to see me, for she made as if to walk away in the other direction, but I hastened towards her, and, seeing this, she waited for me.

“Are you frightened of me, or do you dislike me so much that you cannot even stop to speak to me, Mary?” I asked; and the figure of Will Bryant being in my mind made me speak somewhat wrathfully.

“Frightened, indeed! William Dew,” quoth she, and her black eyes flashed and sparkled angrily, “a nice goose I should be to be frightened of a big boy like you.”

“Well, do you dislike me? And if I am but a big boy, you need not turn away because you happen to see me.”

“No, I don’t dislike you. Why should I? But frightened, indeed!” and again she tossed her pretty little head, and drew tighter over her shoulders her scarlet cloak. “Girls like me are not frightened at over-grown boys who spend their days following their father’s plough, drink skim milk instead of good honest ale, and are regular ninnies.”

Now, to be called a ninny angered me, so I answered sharply that even if I was a ninny and followed my father’s plough, it “was better than smuggling and only pretending to work.”

Her white teeth shone from between her bright red lips in a scornful smile. “Oh, you are very honest, I daresay; but if I were a man I wouldn’t be such a coward as to be frightened to help land a cargo; at any rate, I wouldn’t stop all my life idling about a little village. I’d go and see the world like — ”

“Like Lieutenant Fairfax, and come back with gold lace on my coat and make love to my sister’s pretty maid.”

“No, I don’t mean Mr. Fairfax, and I am sure, if I did, it would be no business of yours. I was going to say like Will Bryant. So don’t be so sharp, Mr. Dew.”

This was the way we always talked when we had met lately, for I was very jealous; but I was no match for her at talking, and where, indeed, is the man who can match himself against a woman when the tongue is the weapon?

Of course, you will understand that in such a small place as Solcombe, everyone knew his neighbour’s business, and the women-folk of our village were ever ready to tell stories of one another; but ’tis the same everywhere, even in London. However, be that as it may, it was the regular talk of the village that young Mr. Fairfax had been seen more than once making love to his sister’s maid, and, though everyone supposed he was only idling, yet they all said that Mary took him seriously. Now, since those days, I have seen much of the world, and I do not think that one should always believe what women say of one another, especially where men’s names are mentioned; but yet, at that time, I did suffer much mental tribulation as to whether Mary cared for the lieutenant as well as for Will Bryant — for of Will I did think she thought over much, and so, indeed, did others besides me, for the village-folk said that Will had gained her heart, and that she only tolerated the lieutenant until the handsome young smuggler was ready to take her to his home.

When first Mary went to the Manor House, she had walked out with me more than once and given me some slight encouragement, but it only lasted a week or two, until Will Bryant came along, and then I saw my chance of gaining her heart was very doubtful. Pretty Miss Charlotte Fairfax, as I afterwards learned, had much to do with this, for she was always telling Mary what a fine, brave fellow this dare-devil Bryant was, and how it was a great thing for so young a man to have spitted two French privateersmen, one after another, as he had done, when they cut out the St. Malo privateer. And, truth to say, it was no wonder the women admired him, for he was a big, strapping, handsome man, and, for his skill in a boat, exceeded by no man on the island.

But I was resolved that afternoon to have it out with Mary; and so, presently, I went on, “You must forgive me, Mary, but I can’t bear to see you so friendly with a man whose father holds his head so high as old Squire Fairfax. You know that nothing can ever come of it — the old Squire would never allow it; and, Mary, dear, I can’t bear to think of the unkind things people are sure to say if they see you together so often.”

“Well, I am sure, William Dew! How dare you preach to me in such a way, as if I were some silly child?”

“Mary, you know why I talk to you so. You know I love you dearly. If, when you gave me the cold shoulder for the sake of Will Bryant, I had thought he was worthy of you, I would have broken my heart before I would have spoken as I have done; but now that you speak as if you had thrown him over, as you threw me over for him, just because this gold-laced dandy has chosen to play with you, I must speak to you and speak for your good.”

She took a step forward and her eyes danced and sparkled with angry fire. “William Dew, I will never speak to you as long as I live. I will never forgive you your impudence. Love me, indeed! Throw you over, indeed! Why, you silly, loutish goose, I never thought anything of you! You clodhopping milksop, Will Bryant is worth a dozen of you! Go away like he has done and fight for your country, and try to come home and say that you, too, cut down two bigger men than yourself, as he has done, then you can have something to talk about; and if you don’t come back with a gold-laced coat, you can, at any rate, be thought a man. No girl with any spirit wants to talk to you now. So now, William Dew!” and she turned away with a truly fierce look upon her handsome face.

“One word, Mary. Would you think better of me if I volunteered and served a commission in the Service? Do you think I should have any chance when I came back?”

“As to chances, William Dew, I sha’n’t say anything, because a girl don’t know her mind for long, you know; but if even you had the courage to be a man and see the world, why, of course, everyone would think a great deal more of you.”

Then Mary turned her head and walked away, and left me to ponder on her words. Those words led to most of my misfortunes, for though, poor girl! I know now she only meant them to give me some sort of proper spirit, I took them as an encouragement of another kind, and forthwith resolved to try and be a man more to her liking. And, as I have said before, this led to my undoing.