The spring was now far advanced, and the weather was delightful. The river was beautiful, and parties of pleasure were constantly to be seen floating up and down with the tide. The Westminster boys, the Funny Club, and other amateurs in their fancy dresses, enlivened the scene; while the races for prize wherries, which occasionally took place, rendered the water one ma.s.s of life and motion. How I longed for my apprenticeship to be over, that I might try for a prize! One of my best customers was a young man, who was an actor at one of the theatres, who, like the M.P., used to rehea.r.s.e the whole time he was in the boat; but he was a lively, noisy personage, full of humour, and perfectly indifferent as to appearances. He had a quiz and a quirk for everybody that pa.s.sed in another boat, and would stand up and rant at them until they considered him insane. We were on very intimate terms, and I was never more pleased than when he made his appearance, as it was invariably the signal for mirth. The first time I certainly considered him to be a lunatic, for playhouse phraseology was quite new to me.

"Boat, sir," cried I to him as he came to the hard.

"My affairs do even drag me homeward. Go on; I'll follow thee," replied he, leaping into the boat. "Our fortune lies in this jump."

I shoved off the wherry: "Down, sir?"

"Down," replied he; pointing downwards with his finger, as if pushing at something.

"Down, down to h.e.l.l, and say I sent you there."

"Thanky, sir, I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."

"Our tongue is rough, coz--and my condition is not smooth." We shot the bridge, and went rapidly down with the tide, when he again commenced:--

"Thus with imagin'd wing our soft scene flies, In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought."

Then his attention was drawn by a collier's boat, pulled by two men as black as chimney-sweeps, with three women in the stern-sheets. They made for the centre of the river, to get into the strength of the tide, and were soon abreast and close to the wherry, pulling with us down the stream.

"There's a dandy young man," said one of the women, with an old straw bonnet and very dirty ribbons, laughing, and pointing to my man.

"Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you not; At Ephesus I am but two hours old, As strange unto your town as to your talk."

"Well, he be a reg'lar rum cove, I've a notion," said another of the women, when she witnessed the theatrical airs of the speaker, who immediately recommenced--

"The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water--the p.o.o.p was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tunes of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar'd all description."

"Come, I'll be blowed but we've had enough of that, so just shut your pan," said one of the women, angrily.

"Her gentlewomen, like the Naiades, So many mermaids tend her."

"Mind what you're arter, or your mouth will tend to your mischief, young fellow."

"From the barge A strange, invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs."

"Jem, just run him alongside, and break his head with your oar."

"I thinks as how I will, if he don't mend his manners."

"I saw her once Hop forty paces through the public streets."

"You lie, you liver-faced rascal. I never walked the streets in my life. I'm a lawful married woman. Jem, do you call yourself a man, and stand this here?"

"Well, now, Sal, but he's a nice young man. Now an't he?" observed one of the other women.

"Away, Away, you trifler. Love! I know thee not, I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world To play with mammets, and to tilt with lips; We must have b.l.o.o.d.y noses and cracked crowns."

"I've a notion you will, too, my hearty," interrupted one of the colliers. "That 'ere long tongue of yours will bring you into disgrace.

Bill, give her a jerk towards the wherry, and we'll duck him."

"My friend," said the actor, addressing me:--

"Let not his unwholesome corpse come between the wind And my n.o.bility.

"Let us exeunt, OP."

Although I could not understand his phrases, I knew very well what he meant, and pulling smartly, I shoved towards the sh.o.r.e, and ahead.

Perceiving this, the men in the boat, at the intimation of the women, who stood up waving their bonnets, gave chase to us, and my companion appeared not a little alarmed. However, by great exertion on my part, we gained considerably, and they abandoned the pursuit.

"Now, by two-headed Ja.n.u.s," said my companion, as he looked back upon the colliers--

"Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time, Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper, And others of such a vinegar aspect That they'll not show their teeth by way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

"And now," continued he, addressing me, "what's your name, sir? Of what condition are you--and of what place, I pray?"

Amused with what had pa.s.sed, I replied, "That my name was Jacob--that I was a waterman, and born on the river."

"I find thee apt; but tell me, art thou perfect that our ship hath touched upon the deserts of Bohemia?"

"Do you land at Westminster, sir?"

"No: at Blackfriars--there attend my coming.

"Base is the slave who pays; nevertheless, what is your fare, my lad?

"What money's in my purse? Seven groats and twopence.

"By Jove, I am not covetous of gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost.

"But--

"I can get no remedy for this consumption of the purse.

"Here my lad--is that enough?"

"Yes, sir, I thank you."

"Remember poor Jack, sir," said the usual attendant at the landing place, catching his arm as he careened the wherry on getting out.

"If he fall in, good-night--or sink or swim.

"Jack, there is a penny for you. Jacob, farewell--we meet again;" and away he went, taking three of the stone steps at each spring. This gentleman's name was, as I afterwards found out, Tinfoil, an actor of second-rate merit on the London boards. The Haymarket Theatre was where he princ.i.p.ally performed, and, as we became better acquainted, he offered to procure me orders to see the play when I should wish to go there.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

THE PIC-NIC PARTY--SUFFERINGS BY OIL, ICE, FIRE, AND WATER--UPON THE WHOLE THE "DIVARTING VAGABONDS," AS THE THESPIAN HEROES AND HEROINES ARE CLa.s.sICALLY TERMED, ARE VERY HAPPY, EXCEPTING MR. WINTERBOTTOM, WHOSE FEELINGS ARE BY SITTING DOWN, DOWN TO ZERO.