CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

BELL. You have an opportunity, now, madam, to revenge yourself upon him for affronting your squirrel.

BELIN. O, the filthy, rude beast.

ARAM. 'Tis a lasting quarrel.

CONGREVE.

We sailed the next day, and, after one month more of unsuccessful cruising, arrived safe at Halifax, where I was informed that an old friend of my father's, Sir Hurricane Humbug, of whom some mention has already been made in this work, had just arrived. He was not in an official character, but had come out to look after his own property. It is absolutely necessary that I should here, with more than usual formality, introduce the reader to an intimate acquaintance with the character of Sir Hurricane.

Sir Hurricane had risen in life by his own ingenuity, and the patronage of a rich man in the south of England: he was of an ardent disposition, and was an admirable justice of peace, when the _argumentum baculinum_ was required, for which reason he had been sent to reduce two or three refractory establishments to order and obedience; and, by his firmness and good humour, succeeded. His tact was a little knowledge of everything, not like Solomon's from the hyssop to the cedar, but from the boiler of a potato to the boiler of a steamboat, and from catching a sprat to catching a whale; he could fatten pigs and poultry, and had a peculiar way of improving the size, though not the breed of the latter; in short, he was "jack of all trades and master of none."

I shall not go any farther back with his memoirs than the day he chose to teach an old woman how to make mutton broth. He had in the course of an honest discharge of his duty at a certain very dirty sea-port town, incurred the displeasure of the lower orders generally: he nevertheless would omit no opportunity of doing good, and giving advice to the poor gratis. One day he saw a woman emptying the contents of a boiling kettle out of her door into the street. He approached, and saw a leg of mutton at the bottom, and the unthrifty housewife throwing away the liquor in which it had been boiled.

"Good woman!" said the economical baronet, "do you know what you are doing? A handful of meat, a couple of carrots, and a couple of turnips, cut up into dice and thrown into that liquor, with a little parsley, would make excellent mutton broth for your family."

The old woman looked up, and saw the ogre of the dockyard; and either by losing her presence of mind or by a most malignant slip of the hand, she contrived to pour a part of the boiling water into the shoes of Sir Hurricane. The baronet jumped, roared, hopped, stamped, kicked off his shoes, and ran home d.a.m.ning the old woman, and himself too, for having tried to teach her how to make mutton broth. As he ran off, the ungrateful hag screamed after him, "Sarves you right; teach you to mind your own business."

The next day, in his magisterial capacity, he commanded the attendance of "the dealer in slops."

"Well, madam, what have you to say for yourself for scalding one of his Majesty's justices of the peace? Don't you know that I have the power to commit you to Maidstone gaol for the a.s.sault?"

"I beg your honour's pardon humbly," said the woman; "I did not know it was your honour, or I am sure I wouldn't a' done it; besides, I own to your honour I had a drop too much."

The good-natured baronet dismissed her with a little suitable advice, which no doubt the good woman treated as she did that relative to the mutton broth.

My acquaintance with Sir Hurricane had commenced at Plymouth, when he kicked my ship to sea in a gale of wind for fear we should ground on our beef bones. I never forgave him for that. My father had shown him great civility, and had introduced me to him. When at Halifax, we resided in the same house with a mutual friend who had always received me as his own son. He had a son of my own age with whom I had long been on terms of warm friendship, and Ned and I confederated against Sir Hurricane. Having paid a few visits _en pa.s.sant_, as I landed at the King's Wharf, shook hands with a few pretty girls, and received their congratulations on my safe return, I went to the house of my friend, and, without ceremony, walked into the drawing-room.

"Do you know, sir," said the footman, "that Sir Hurricane is in his room? But he is very busy," added the man, with a smile.

"Busy or not," said I, "I am sure he will see me"--so in I walked.

Sir Hurricane was employed on something, but I could not distinctly make out what. He had a boot between his knees and the calves of his legs, which he pressed together, and as he turned his head round, I perceived that he held a knife between his teeth.

"Leave the door open, messmate," said he, without taking the least notice of me. Then rising, he drew a large black tom-cat by the tail, out of the boot, and flinging it away from him to a great distance, which distance was rapidly increased by the voluntary exertion of the cat, which ran away as if it had been mad--"There," said he, "and be d.a.m.ned to you, you have given me more trouble than a whole Kentucky farm-yard but I shall not lose my sleep any more by your d.a.m.ned caterwauling."

All this was p.r.o.nounced as if he had not seen me--in fact, it was a soliloquy, for the cat did not stay to bear it. "Ah!" said he, holding out his hand to me, "how do you do? I know your face, but d.a.m.n me if I have not forgot your name."

"My name, sir," said I, "is Mildmay."

"Ah, Mildmay, my n.o.ble, how do you do--how did you leave your father? I knew him very well--used to give devilish good feeds--many a plate I've dirtied at his table--don't care how soon I put my legs under it again; take care, mind which way you put your helm--you will be aboard of my chickabiddies--don't run athwart-hawse."

I found, on looking down, that I had a string round my leg, which fastened a chicken to the table, and saw many more of these little creatures attached to the chairs in the room; but for what purpose they were thus domesticated I could not discover.

"Are these pet chickens of yours, Sir Hurricane?" said I.

"No," said the admiral, "but I mean them to be pet capons by and by, when they come to table. I have finished a dozen and a half this morning, besides that d.a.m.ned old tom-cat."

The mystery was now explained, and I afterwards found out (every man having his hobby) that the idiosyncrasy of this officer's disposition had led him to the practice of neutralising the males of any species of bird or beast, in order to render them more palatable at the table.

"Well, sir," he continued, "how do you like your new ship--how do you like your old captain?--good fellow, isn't he?--d.a.m.n his eyes-- countryman of mine--I knew him when his father hadn't as much money as would jingle on a tombstone. That fellow owes everything to me. I introduced him to the Duke of ---, and he got on by that interest. But I say, what do you think of the Halifax girls--nice! a'n't they?"

I expressed my admiration of them.

"Ay, ay, they'll do, won't they?--we'll have some fine fun--give the girls a party at George's Island--hay-making--green gowns--ha, ha, ha!

I say, your captain shall give us a party at Turtle Cove. We are going to give the old commissioner a feed at the Rockingham--blow the roof of his skull off with champagne. Do you dine at Birch Cove to-day? No, I suppose you are engaged to Miss Maria, or Miss Susan, or Miss Isabella-- ha, sad dog, sad dog!--done a great deal of mischief," surveying me from head to foot.

I took the liberty of returning him the same compliment; he was a tall, raw-boned man, with strongly marked features, and a smile on his countenance that no modest woman could endure. In his person he gave me the idea of a discharged life-guardsman; but from his face you might have supposed that he had sat for one of Ruben's satyrs. He was one of those people with whom you become immediately acquainted; and before I had been an hour in his company, I laughed very heartily at his jokes-- not very delicate, I own, and for which he lost a considerable portion of my respect; but he was a source of constant amus.e.m.e.nt to me, living as we did in the same house.

I was just going out of the room when he stopped me--"I say, how should you like to be introduced to some devilish nice Yankee girls, relations of mine, from Philadelphia? and I should be obliged to you to show them attention; very pretty girls, I can tell you, and will have good fortunes--you may go farther and fare worse. The old dad is as rich as a Jew--got the gout in both legs--can't hold out much longer--nice pickings at his money bags, while the devil is picking his bones."

There was no withstanding such inducements, and I agreed that he should present me the next day.

Our dialogue was interrupted by the master of the house and his son, who gave me a hearty welcome; the father had been a widower for some years, and his only son Ned resided with him, and was intended to succeed to his business as a merchant. We adjourned to dress for dinner; our bedrooms were contiguous and we began to talk of Sir Hurricane.

"He is a strange mixture," said Ned. "I love him for his good temper; but I owe him a grudge for making mischief between me and Maria; besides, he talks balderdash before the ladies and annoys them very much."

"I owe him a grudge too," said I, "for sending me to sea in a gale of wind."

"We shall both be quits with him before long," said Ned; "but let us now go and meet him at dinner. To-morrow I will set the housekeeper at him for his cruelty to her cat; and if I am not much mistaken she will pay him off for it."

Dinner pa.s.sed off extremely well. The admiral was in high spirits; and as it was a bachelor's party, he earned his wine. The next morning we met at breakfast. When that was over, the master of the house retired to his office, or pretended to do so. I was going out to walk, but Ned said I had better stay a few minutes; he had something to say to me; in fact, he had prepared a treat without my knowing it.

"How did you sleep last night, Sir Hurricane?" said the artful Ned.

"Why, pretty well considering," said the admiral, "I was not tormented by that old tom-cat. d.a.m.n me, sir, that fellow was like the Grand Signior, and he kept his seraglio in the garret over my bedroom, instead of being at his post in the kitchen killing the rats that are running about like coach-horses."

"Sir Hurricane," said I, "it's always unlucky to sailors if they meddle with cats. You will have a gale of wind, in some shape or another before long."

These words were scarcely uttered, when, as if by preconcerted arrangement, the door opened, and in sailed Mrs Jellybag, the housekeeper, an elderly woman somewhere in the lat.i.tude of fifty-five or sixty years. With a low courtesy and contemptuous toss of her head, she addressed Sir Hurricane Humbug.

"Pray, Sir Hurricane, what have you been doing to my cat?"

The admiral, who prided himself in putting any one who applied to him on what he called the wrong scent, endeavoured to play off Mrs Jellybag in the same manner.

"What have I done to your cat, my dear Mrs Jellybag? Why, my dear madam," said he, a.s.suming an air of surprise, "what _should_ I do to your cat?"

"You _should_ have left him alone, Mr Admiral; that cat was my property; if my master permits you to ill-treat the poultry, that's his concern; but that cat was mine, Sir Hurricane--mine, every inch of him.

The animal has been ill-treated, and sits moping in the corner of the fireplace as if he was dying; he'll never be the cat he was again."

"I don't think he ever will, my dear Mrs Housekeeper," answered the admiral drily.

The lady's wrath now began to kindle. The admiral's cool replies were like water sprinkled upon a strong flame, increasing its force, instead of checking it.

"Don't dear _me_, Sir Hurricane. I am not one of _your dears_--your dears are all in Dutchtown, more shame for you--an old man like you."