Читать книгу Percival Keene - Фредерик Марриет - Страница 15

Although the aversion which I had taken to the whole Culpepper family was so great, that I could have done anything to annoy them, my mind was now so fully occupied with the information which I had collected relative to my supposed birth and parentage, that I could not think of mischief.

I walked on the common or in the little garden during the whole of the following day, plunged in deep thought, and at night, when I went to bed, I remained awake till the dawn. During these last two days I had thought and reflected more than I had perhaps done from the hour of my birth.

That I was better off than I should have been if I had been the son of a private in the marines, I felt convinced; but still I had a feeling that I was in a position in which I might be subjected to much insult, and that, unless I was acknowledged by my aristocratic parent, my connection with his family would be of no use to me;—and Captain Delmar, how was I to behave to him? I did not like him much, that was certain, nor did this new light which had burst forth make me feel any more love for him than I did before. Still my mother’s words at Chatham rung in my ears, “Do you know who it is that you have been?” etcetera. I felt sure that he was my father, and I felt a sort of duty towards him; perhaps an increase of respect.

These were anxious thoughts for a boy not fourteen; and the Culpeppers remarked, that I had not only looked very pale, but had actually grown thin in the face during my short stay.

As I was very quiet and reserved after the first day, they were very glad when my clothes were brought home, and I was reported ready to embark; so was I, for I wanted to go on board and see my friend Tommy Dott, with whom I intended, if the subject was brought up, to consult as to my proceedings, or perhaps I thought it would be better to consult Bob Cross, the captain’s coxswain; I was not sure that I should not advise with them both.

I had made up my mind how to behave to my mother. I knew that she would never acknowledge the truth, after what had passed between the captain and her when I was present; but I was resolved that I would let her know that I was in the secret; and I thought that the reply to me would be a guide as to the correctness of the fact, which, with all the hastiness of boyhood, I considered as incontrovertible, although I had not the least positive proof.

The day that I was to go on board, I requested Miss Culpepper to give me a sheet of paper, that I might write to my mother; she supplied me very readily, saying, “You had better let me see if you make any mistake in your spelling before the letter goes; your mamma will be so pleased if you write your letter properly.” She then went down into the kitchen to give some orders.

As I had not the slightest intention that she should read what I wrote, and resolved to have it in the post before she came up again, I was very concise in my epistle, which was as follows:—

“Dear Mother:– I have found it all out—I am the son of Captain Delmar, and everyone here knows what you have kept a secret from me. I go on board to-day.

“Yours truly, P. Keene.”

This was very short, and, it must be admitted, direct to the point. I could not perhaps have written one which was so calculated to give my mother uneasiness.

As soon as it was finished, I folded it up, and lighted a taper to seal it. Old Mrs Culpepper, who was in the room, croaked out, “No, no; you must show it to Medea.” But I paid no attention to her, and having sealed my letter, put on my hat, and walked out to the post-office. I dropped it into the box, and, on returning, found Mr Culpepper coming home, accompanied by Bob Cross, the captain’s coxswain, and two of the boat’s crew.

As I presumed, they were sent for me; I joined them immediately, and was kindly greeted by Bob Cross, who said:—

“Well, Mr Keene, are you all ready for shipping? We’ve come for your traps.”

“All ready,” replied I, “and very glad to go, for I’m tired of staying on shore doing nothing.”

We were soon at the house; the seamen carried away my chest and bedding, while Bob Cross remained a little while, that I might pay my farewell to the ladies.

The ceremony was not attended with much regret on either side. Miss Culpepper could not help asking me why I did not show her my letter, and I replied, that there were secrets in it, which answer did not at all add to her good temper; our adieus were, therefore, anything but affectionate, and before the men with my effects were a hundred yards in advance, Bob Cross and I were at their heels.

“Well, Master Keene,” said Bob, as we wended our way across South Sea Common, “how do you like the purser’s ladies?”

“Not at all,” replied I; “they have done nothing but try to pump me the whole time I have been there; but they did not make much of it.”

“Women will be curious, Master Keene—pray what did they try to pump about?”

I hardly knew how to reply, and I hesitated. I felt a strong inclination towards Bob Cross, and I had before reflected whether I should make him my confidant; still, I was undecided and made no reply, when Bob Cross answered for me:—

“Look ye, child—for although you’re going on the quarter-deck, and I am before the mast, you are a child compared to me—I can tell you what they tried to pump about, as well as you can tell me, if you choose. According to my thinking, there’s no lad on board the frigate that will require good advice as you will; and I tell you candidly, you will have your cards to play. Bob Cross is no fool, and can see as far through a fog as most chaps; I like you for yourself as far as I see of you, and I have not forgotten your mother’s kindness to me, when she had her own misery to occupy her thoughts; not that I wanted the money—it wasn’t the money, but the way and the circumstances under which it was given. I told you I’d look after you a bit—a bit means a great deal with me—and so I will, if you choose that I shall; if not, I shall touch my hat to you, as my officer, which won’t help you very much. So, now you have to settle, my lad, whether you will have me as your friend, or not.”

The appeal quite decided me. “Bob Cross,” replied I. “I do wish to make you my friend; I thought of it before, but I did not know whether to go to you or to Tommy Dott.”

“Tommy Dott! Well, Master Keene, that’s not very flattering, to put me in one scale, and Tommy Dott in the other; I’m not surprised at its weighing down in my favour. If you wish to get into mischief you can’t apply to a better hand than Tommy Dott; but Tommy Dott is not half so fit to advise you, as you are, I expect, to advise him; so make him your playmate and companion, if you please, but as to his advice, it’s not worth asking. However, as you have given me the preference, I will now tell you that the Culpepper people have been trying to find out who is your father. Ain’t I right?”

“Yes, you are,” replied I.

“Well, then, this is no time to talk about such things; we shall be down to the boat in another minute, so we’ll say no more at present; only recollect, when you are on board, if they talk about appointing a man to take charge of your hammock, say that Bob Cross, the captain’s coxswain, is, you understand, to be the person; say that and no more. I will tell you why by-and-by, when we have time to talk together and if any of your messmates say anything to you on the same point which the Culpeppers have been working at, make no reply and hold yourself very stiff. Now, here we are at the sally port, so there’s an end to our palaver for the present.”

My chest and bedding were already in the boat, and as soon as Cross and I had stepped in he ordered the bowman to shove off; in half an hour we arrived alongside the frigate, which lay at Spithead, bright with new paint, and with her pennant proudly flying to the breeze.

“You’d better follow me, sir, and mind you touch your hat when the officers speak to you,” said Bob Cross, ascending the accommodation ladder. I did so, and found myself on the quarter deck, in the presence of the first lieutenant and several of the officers.

“Well, Cross,” said the first lieutenant.

“I’ve brought a young gentleman on board to join the ship. Captain Delmar has, I believe, given his orders about him.”

“Mr Keene, I presume?” said the first lieutenant, eyeing me from head to foot.

“Yes, sir,” replied I, touching my hat.

“How long have you been at Portsmouth?”

“Three days, sir; I have been staying at Mr Culpepper’s.”

“Well, did you fall in love with Miss Culpepper?”

“No, sir,” replied I; “I hate her.”

At this answer the first lieutenant and the officers near him burst out a-laughing.

“Well, youngster, you must dine with us in the gun-room to-day; and where’s Mr Dott?”

“Here, sir,” said Tommy Dott, coming from the other side of the quarter-deck.

“Mr Dott, take this young gentleman down below, and show him the midshipmen’s berth. Let me see, who is to take care of his hammock?”

“I believe that Bob Cross is to take care of it, sir,” said I.

“The captain’s coxswain—humph. Well, that’s settled at all events; very good—we shall have the pleasure of your company to dinner, Mr Keene. Why, Mr Dott and you look as if you knew each other.”

“Don’t we, Tommy?” said I to the midshipman, grinning.

“I suspect that there is a pair of you,” said the first lieutenant, turning aft and walking away; after which Tommy and I went down the companion ladder as fast as we could, and in a few seconds afterwards were sitting together on the same chest, in most intimate conversation.

My extreme resemblance to our honourable captain was not unobserved by the officers who were on the quarter-deck at the time of my making my appearance; and, as I afterwards heard from Bob Cross, he was sent for by the surgeon, on some pretence or another, to obtain any information relative to me. What were Bob Cross’s reasons for answering as he did I could not at that time comprehend, but he explained them to me afterwards.

“Who brought him down, Cross?” said the surgeon, carelessly.

“His own mother, sir; he has no father, sir, I hear.”

“Did you see her? What sort of a person was she?”

“Well, sir,” replied Bob Cross, “I’ve seen many ladies of quality, but such a real lady I don’t think I ever set my eyes upon before; and such a beauty—I’d marry to-morrow if I could take in tow a craft like her.”

“How did they come down to Portsmouth?”

“Why, sir, she came down to Portsmouth in a coach and four; but she walked to the George Hotel, as if she was nobody.”

This was not a fib on the part of the coxswain, for we came down by the Portsmouth coach; it did, however, deceive the surgeon, as was intended.

“Did you see anything of her, Cross?”

“Not when she was with the captain, sir, but at her own lodgings I did; such a generous lady I never met with.”

A few more questions were put, all of which were replied to in much the same strain by the coxswain, so as to make out my mother to be a very important and mysterious personage. It is true that Tommy Dott could have contradicted all this; but, in the first place, it was not very likely that there would be any communication upon the point between him and the officers; and in the next I cautioned him to say nothing about what he knew, which, as he was strongly attached to me, he strictly complied with: so Bob Cross completely mystified the surgeon, who, of course, made his report to his messmates.

Mr Culpepper’s report certainly differed somewhat from that of Bob Cross. There was my statement of my aunt being married to a marine officer—but it was my statement; there was also my statement of my mother residing with Captain Delmar’s aunt; altogether there was doubt and mystery; and it ended in my mother being supposed to be a much greater person than she really was—everything tending to prove her a lady of rank being willingly received, and all counter-statements looked upon as apocryphal and false.

But whoever my mother might be, on one point every one agreed, which was, that I was the son of the Honourable Captain Delmar, and on this point I was equally convinced myself. I waited with some anxiety for my mother’s reply to my letter, which arrived two days after I had joined the frigate. It was as follows:—

“My dear Percival:—

“You little know the pain and astonishment which I felt upon receipt of your very unkind and insulting letter; surely you could not have reflected at the time you wrote it, but must have penned it in a moment of irritation arising from some ungenerous remark which has been made in your hearing.

“Alas, my dear child, you will find, now that you have commenced your career in life, that there are too many whose only pleasure is to inflict pain upon their fellow-creatures. I only can imagine that some remark has been made in your presence, arising from there being a similarity of features between you and the Honourable Captain Delmar; that there is so has been before observed by others. Indeed your uncle and aunt Bridgeman were both struck with the resemblance, when Captain Delmar arrived at Chatham; but this proves nothing, my dear child—people are very often alike, who have never seen each other, or heard each other mentioned, till they have by accident been thrown together so as to be compared.

“It may certainly be, as your father was in the service of Captain Delmar, and constantly attended upon him, and indeed I may add as I was occasionally seeing him, that the impression of his countenance might be constantly in our memory, and—but you don’t understand such questions, and therefore I will say no more, except that you will immediately dismiss from your thoughts any such idea.

“You forget, my dearest boy, that you are insulting me by supposing any such thing, and that your mother’s honour is called in question; I am sure you never thought of that when you wrote those hasty and inconsiderate lines. I must add, my dear boy, that knowing Captain Delmar, and how proud and sensitive he is, if it should ever come to his knowledge that you had suspected or asserted what you have, his favour and protection would be lost to you for ever: at present he is doing a kind and charitable action in bringing forward the son of a faithful servant; but if he imagined for a moment that you were considered related to him he would cast you off for ever, and all your prospects in life would be ruined.

“Even allowing it possible that you were what you so madly stated yourself in your letter to be, I am convinced he would do so. If such a report came to his ears, he would immediately disavow you, and leave you to find your own way in the world.

“You see, therefore, my dear boy, how injurious to you in every way such a ridiculous surmise must prove, and I trust that, not only for your own sake, but for your mother’s character, you will, so far from giving credence, indignantly disavow what must be a source of mischief and annoyance to all parties.

“Captain Bridgeman desires me to say, that he is of my opinion, so is your aunt Milly: as for your grandmother, of course, I dare not show her your letter. Write to me, my dear boy, and tell me how this unfortunate mistake happened, and believe me to be your affectionate mother, Arabella Keene.”

I read this letter over ten times before I came to any conclusion; at last I said to myself, there is not in any one part of it any positive denial of the fact, and resolved some future day, when I had had some conversation with Bob Cross, to show it to him, and ask his opinion.