Again on June 17th (_Letters_, II, 94, Eversley Edition) he wrote to the late Professor Cowell of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge:--

"I am here in my little Ship" (the _Scandal_) "with no company but my crew" (Tom Newson and his nephew Jack) ". . . and my other--Captain of the Lugger now a-building: a Fellow I never tire of studying--If he _should_ turn out knave, I shall have done with all Faith in my own Judgment: and if he should go to the Bottom of the Sea in the Lugger--I shan't cry for the Lugger."

There was some delay in getting the deck planks on the lugger, for FitzGerald wrote to Mr. Spalding on May 18th, 1867 (_Two Suffolk Friends_, p. 110), that she would be decked "next Week," whereas her planking was not finished till June, and, on a Friday in June, FitzGerald wrote to Posh:--

"WOODBRIDGE, _Friday_.

"MY DEAR POSHY,

"I am only back To-day from London, where I had to go for two days: and I am very glad to be back. For the Weather was wretched: the Streets all Slush: and I all alone wandering about in it. So as I was sitting at Night, in a great Room where a Crowd of People were eating Supper, and Singing going on, I thought to myself--Well, Posh might as well be here; and then I should see what a Face he would make at all this--This Thought really came into my mind.

"I had asked Mr. Berry to forward me any Letters because I thought you might write to say the Lugger was planked. But now you tell me it is no such thing: well, there is plenty of time: but I wished not to delay in sending the Money, if wanted. I have seen, and heard, no more of Newson; nor of _his_ new Lugger from Mr. Hunt--I am told that one of the American yachts, _The Henrietta_, is a perfect Model: so I am going to have a Print of her that I may try and learn the Stem from the Stern of a Ship. If this North-Easter changes I daresay I may run to Lowestoft next week and get a Sail, but it is too cold for that now.

"Well, here is a letter, you see, my little small Captain, in answer to yours, which I was glad to see, for as I do not forget you, as I have told you, so I am glad that you should sometime remember the Old Governor and Herring-merchant

"EDWARD FITZGERALD."

It should be observed that in this letter, as in several of those written to Posh, FitzGerald signed his name, "Edward FitzGerald," in full, a practice from which he was averse owing to certain facts connected with another Edward Fitzgerald. Those who have heard the story of the historic first meeting between the poet and the late Mr. Bernard Quaritch will remember why _our_ FitzGerald disliked the idea of being confused with the other Edward Fitzgerald.

{Posh and his old "Shud," in which nets, etc., belonging to the partnership were stored, and where the letters now published were found: p62.jpg}

The letter here given forces a delightful picture upon us. Its simplicity makes it superbly graphic. Think of FitzGerald, refined in feature and reserved in manner, a little unconventional in dress, but not sufficiently so to be vulgarly noticeable--think of the man who has given us the most poetical philosophy and the most philosophical poetry, all in the most exquisite English, in our language, sitting probably at Evans's (it sounds like Evans's with the suppers and the music) and looking a little pityingly at the reek about him like the "poor old, solitary, and sad Man as he really was in spite of his Jokes"; and then imaging in his mind's eye the handsome stalwart fisherman whom he loved so truly, and believing that he was as morally excellent as he was physically! "What a Face he would make at all this!" thought the poet.

Five or six years ago a good friend of mine, the skipper of one of the most famous tugs of Yarmouth, had to go up to town on a salvage case before the Admiralty Court. With him as witnesses went one or two beach men of the old school, wind-and sun-tanned old sh.e.l.l-backs, with voices like a fog-horn, and that entire lack of self-consciousness which is characteristic of simplicity and good breeding. My friend the skipper was cultured in comparison with the old beach men, and he was a little vexed when one old "salwager" insisted on accompanying him to the Oxford Music Hall. All went well till some conjurers appeared on the stage.

Then the skipper found that he had made a mistake in edging away from the beach man. For that jolly old salt hailed him across the house. "Hi, Billeeoh! Bill Berry! Hi! Lor, bor, howiver dew they dew't? Howiver dew they dew't, bor? Tha'ss whoolly a masterpiece! Hi! Billeeoh! Theer they goo agin!"

The skipper always ends the story there. He is as brave a man as any on the coast. It was he who stood out in Yarmouth Roads all night to look for the Caistor life-boat the night of the disaster--a night when the roads could not be distinguished from the shoals, so broken into tossing white horses was the whole offing--but I believe he slunk down the stairs of the Oxford that night, and left the old beach man still expressing his delighted wonder.

Perhaps FitzGerald thought that Posh would be as excited as the old beach man.

"Mr. Berry" (as every one knows who knows anything about FitzGerald) was the landlord of the house on Markethill, Woodbridge, where the poet lodged. (By the way, he was, so far as I know, no relation of my Bill Berry.) A sum of 50 pounds was due to Dan Fuller on the planking being completed, and FitzGerald was anxious to let Posh have the money as soon as it was needed. He "remembered his debts" even before they became due.

I have already stated that Hunt was a boat-builder at Aldeburgh, and that FitzGerald had, at first, wished Posh to employ him to build the _Mum Tum_, as the _Meum and Tuum_ was fated to be called.

The kindly jovial relations between the "guv'nor" and his partner could not be better indicated than by the name FitzGerald gives himself at the close, just before he once more signs his name in full. Well, perhaps the legal luminary of Lowestoft would justify his inquiry if Edward FitzGerald was the man who made a lot of money out of salt by saying, "Well, he called himself a herring-merchant."

The schoolmaster who had never heard of either FitzGerald or Omar Khayyam would (according to the nature of the breed) sniff and say "What? A herring-merchant and a tent-maker! My boys are the sons of gentlemen. I can't be expected to know anything about tradesfolk of that cla.s.s."

But Posh has a sense of humour, and he says, "Ah! He used to laugh about that, the guv'nor did. He'd catch hold o' my jersey, so" (here Posh pinches up a fold of his blue woollen jersey), "and say, 'Oh dear! Oh dear, Poshy! Two F's in the firm. FitzGerald and Fletcher, herring salesmen--when Poshy catches any, which isn't as often as it might be, you know, Poshy!' And then he'd laugh. Oh, he was a jolly kind-hearted man if ever there was one."

And then Posh's eyes will grow moist sometimes, I think perhaps with the thought that he might--ah, well! It's too late now.

Posh wishes me to give the dimensions of the lugger, as she was of his own designing and proved a fast and stiff craft. He had given her two feet less length than her beam called for, according to local ideas, and FitzGerald called her "The Cart-horse," because she seemed broad and bluff for her length. She was forty-five feet in length, with a fifteen- foot beam and seven-foot depth. She was first rigged as a lugger, but altered to the more modern "dandy" (something like a ketch but with more rake to the mizzen and with no topmast on the mainmast) before she was sold. Any one about the herring basins who has arrived at fisherman's maturity (about sixty years) will remember the _Mum Tum_, and, so far as she was concerned, the partnership was entirely successful, for no one has a bad word to say for her.

CHAPTER V "NEIGHBOUR'S FARE"

It is impossible to arrive at the exact sum of money which FitzGerald brought into the partnership between him and Posh, but it must have been something like five hundred pounds. The lugger cost 360 pounds to build, and, in addition, Posh was paid 20 pounds for his services (see _Letters_, p. 309), and various payments had to be made for "sails, cables, warps, ballast, etc." Posh brought in what nets and gear he had, and his services. The first notion was that FitzGerald should be owner of three-fourths of the concern; but on a valuation being made it was found that the nets and gear contributed by Posh were of greater value than had been supposed, and before the _Meum and Tuum_ put to sea it was understood that Posh should be half owner with his "guvnor." Posh is very firm in his conviction that up to the return of the boat from her first cruise there had been no mention of any bill of sale, or mortgage, of the boat and gear to FitzGerald to secure the money he had found.

According to him his partner was to be a sleeping partner and no more, and the entire conduct and control of the business were to be vested in Posh. The quarrels and misunderstandings which subsequently arose on this point Posh attributes to certain "interfarin' parties" (and especially to a Lowestoft lawyer), who were under the impression that FitzGerald had not looked after himself so well as he might have done and who thought that this omission should be remedied. Possibly they had an idea that they might "make somethin'" in the course of the remedial measures.

Early in August Posh sailed north with his crew to meet the herring on their way down south. His luck was poor, and on August 26th FitzGerald wrote him from Lowestoft:--

"LOWESTOFT, _Monday_, _August_ 26.

"MY DEAR POSH,

"As we hear nothing of you, we suppose that you have yet caught nothing worth putting in for. And, as I may be here only a Day longer, I write again to you: though I do not know if I have anything to say which needs writing again for. In my former letter, directed to you as this letter will be, I desired you to get a Life Buoy as soon as you could. _That_ is for the Good of your People, as well as of yourself. What I now have to say is wholly on your own Account: and that is, to beg you to take the Advice given by the Doctor to your Father: namely, _not_ to drink _Beer_ and _Ale_ more than you can help: but only _Porter_, and, every day, some Gin and Water. I was talking to your Father last Sat.u.r.day; and I am convinced that you inherit a family complaint: if I had known of this a year ago I would not have drenched you with all the Scotch, and Norwich, Ale which I have given you. . . . Do not neglect this Advice, as being only an old Woman's Advice; you have, even at your early time of life, suffered from _Gravel_; and you may depend upon it that Gravel will turn to _Stone_, unless you do something like what I tell you, and which the Doctor has told your Father. And I know that there is no Disease in the World which makes a young Man _old_ sooner than Stone: No Disease that _wears_ him more. You should take plenty of _Tea_; some Gin and Water every night; and _no_ Ale, or Beer; but only Porter; and not much of that. If you do not choose to buy Gin for yourself, buy some for _me_: and keep it on board: and drink some every Day, or Night. Pray remember this: and _do it_.

"I have been here since I wrote my first Letter to Scarboro'; that is to say, a week ago. Till To-day I have been taking out some Friends every day: they leave the place in a day or two, and I shall go home; though I dare say not for long. Your wife seems nearly right again; I saw her To-day. Your Father has engaged to sell his Shrimps to Levi, for this season and next, at 4s. a Peck. Your old _Gazelle_ came in on Sat.u.r.day with all her Nets gone to pieces; the Lugger _Monitor_ came in here yesterday to alter her Nets--from _Sunk_ to _Swum_, I believe. So here is a Lowestoft Reporter for you: and you may never have it after all. But, if you do, do not forget what I have told you. Your Father thinks that you may have missed the Herring by going _outward_, where they were first caught: whereas the Herring had altered their course to insh.o.r.e. . . . Better to miss many Herrings than have the Stone.

"E. FG."

Here, again, the delicate solicitude of this perfect gentleman is apparent. "If you do not choose to buy Gin for yourself, buy some for _me_: and keep it on board: and drink some every Day, or Night." That is to say, "If you think that you cannot afford to buy gin for yourself don't worry about the expense. I'll see you are not put to any extra cost. But I can't bear to think that you may suffer for the want of a medicine because of your East Anglian parsimony."

It must be remembered that East Anglia was notorious for the frequency of the disease in question. The late William Cadge, of Norwich, probably the finest lithotomist in the world (as Thompson was the greatest lithotritist), once told me that he had performed over four hundred operations in the Norwich Hospital for this disease alone.

But FitzGerald's fears concerning Posh were not realised. He seems to have had an especial dread of the disease (as who has not?), for in a letter to Frederic Tennyson of January 29th previously (II, 89, Eversley Edition) he wrote (of Montaigne): "One of his Consolations for _The Stone_ is that it makes one less unwilling to part with Life."

Levi was a Lowestoft fishmonger, referred to in the footnote of _Two Suffolk Friends_, p. 108.

The _Gazelle_ was the "punt" or longsh.o.r.e boat which Posh bought at Southwold, and called (by reason of her splendid qualities) _The Little Wonder_.

The difference between "sunk" and "swum" herring nets would be unintelligible to a modern herring fisher. Now the nets are thirty feet in depth, are buoyed on the surface of the sea, and are kept perpendicular (like a wall two miles long) by the weight of heavy cables or "warps" which stretch along the bottom of the nets. I am, of course, referring to North Sea fishing only, and not to the longsh.o.r.e punts, whose nets are not half the depth of the North Sea fleets.

In FitzGerald's time if the herring were expected to swim deep the nets were sunk _below_ the cables or warps which strung them together, and if they were thought to be swimming high they were buoyed above the warps, the system of fishing being called "sunk" in the former case and "swum"

in the latter. Now _all_ nets are "swum," that is to say, all are above the warps and are buoyed on the surface. But the depth has increased so much (to what is technically known as "twenty-score mesh," which comes to about thirty feet) that there is no need to alter their setting.

Posh's wife, whose state of health is referred to in this letter, survived till 1892, but for many years suffered from tuberculosis in the lungs.

The _Monitor_ was a Kessingland craft, and belonged to one Hutton.

But whether Posh fished with "sunk" or "swum" nets his luck was out for the season of 1867. The fish as a rule get down to the Norfolk coast about the beginning of October, and Posh had followed them down from Scarborough. About the end of September, or the beginning of October, FitzGerald wrote to his partner, addressing the letter to 8 Strand Cottages, Lowestoft, in the expectation that the _Meum and Tuum_ had come south with the rest of the herring drifters, Yarmouth, Lowestoft, North and South Shields, and Scotch.

{Strand Cottages, where Posh lived. No. 8, his cottage, is marked with a white cross: p77.jpg}

"WOODBRIDGE, _Sat.u.r.day_.

"DEAR POSH,

"I write you a line, because I suppose it possible that you may be at home some time to-morrow. If you are not, no matter. I do not know if I shall be at Lowestoft next week: but you are not to suppose that, if I do do [_sic_] not go there just now I have anything to complain of. I am not sure but that a Friend may come here to see me, and also, unless the weather keep warmer than it was some days ago, I scarce care to sleep in my cabin: which has no fire near it as yours has.

"If I do not go to Lowestoft just yet, I shall be there before very long: at my friend Miss Green's, if my Ship be laid up.

"I see in the Paper that there have been some 40 lasts of Herring landed in your market during this last week: the Southwold Boats doing best. I began to think the Cold might keep the Fish in deep water, so that _swum_ nets would scarce reach them yet. But this is mere guess.

I told you not to answer all my letters: but you can write me a line once a week to say what you are doing. I hope _our_ turn for "Neighbour's fare" is not quite lost, though long a coming.