Several People delighted, and the Game Chicken disgusted
THE Midshipman was all alive. Mr. Toots and Susan had arrived at last. Susan
has run up stairs like a young woman bereft of her senses, and Mr. Toots and the
Chicken had gone into the parlour.
`Oh my own pretty darling sweet Miss Floy!' cried the Nipper, running into
Florence's room, `to think that it should come to this and I should find you
here my own dear dove with nobody to wait upon you and no home to call your own
but never never will I go away again Miss Floy for though I may not gather moss
I'm not a rolling stone nor is my heart a stone or else it wouldn't bust as it
is busting now oh dear oh dear!'
Pouring out these words, without the faintest indication of a stop, of any
sort, Miss Nipper, on her knees beside her mistress, hugged her close.
`Oh love!' cried Susan, `I know all that's past I know it all my tender pet
and I'm a choking give me air!'
`Susan, dear good Susan!' said Florence.
`Oh bless her! I that was her little maid when she was a little child! and is
she really, really truly going to be married?' exclaimed Susan, in a burst of
pain and pleasure, pride and grief, and Heaven knows how many other conflicting
feelings.
`Who told you so?' said Florence.
`Oh gracious me! that innocentest creetur Toots,' returned Susan
hysterically. `I knew he must be right my dear because he took on so. He's the
devotedest and innocentest infant!And is my darling,' pursued Susan, with
another close embrace and burst of tears, `really really going to be married!'
The mixture of compassion, pleasure, tenderness, protection, and regret with
which the Nipper constantly recurred to this subject, and at every such
recurrence, raised her head to look in the young face and kiss it, and then laid
her head again upon her mistress's shoulder, caressing her and sobbing, was as
womanly and good a thing, in its way, as ever was seen in the world.
`There, there!' said the soothing voice of Florence presently. `Now you're
quite yourself, dear Susan!'
Miss Nipper, sitting down upon the floor, at her mistress's feet, laughing
and sobbing, holding her pocket-handkerchief to her eyes with one hand, and
patting Diogenes with the other as he licked her face, confessed to being more
composed, and laughed and cried a little more in proof of it.
`I--I--I never did see such a creetur as that Toots,' said Susan, `in all my
born days never!'
`So kind,' suggested Florence.
`And so comic!' Susan sobbed. `The way he's been going on inside with me with
that disrespectable Chicken on the box!'
`About what, Susan?' inquired Florence timidly.
`Oh about Lieutenant Walters, and Captain Gills, and you my dear Miss Floy,
and the silent tomb,' said Susan.
`The silent tomb!' repeated Florence.
`He says,' here Susan burst into a violent hysterical laugh, `that he'll go
down into it now immediately and quite comfortable, but bless your heart my dear
Miss Floy he won't, he's a great deal too happy in seeing other people happy for
that, he may not be a Solomon,' pursued the Nipper, with her usual volubility,
`nor do I say he is but this I do say a less selfish human creature human nature
never knew!'
Miss Nipper being still hysterical, laughed immoderately after making this
energetic declaration, and then informed Florence that he was waiting below to
see her; which would be a rich repayment for the trouble he had had in his late
expedition.
Florence entreated Susan to beg of Mr. Toots as a favour that she might have
the pleasure of thanking him for his kindness; and Susan, in a few moments,
produced that young gentleman, still very much dishevelled in appearance, and
stammering exceedingly.
`Miss Dombey,' said Mr. Toots. `To be again permitted to--to--gaze--at least,
not to gaze, but--I don't exactly know what I was going to say, but it's of no
consequence.'
`I have to thank you so often,' returned Florence, giving him both her hands,
with all her innocent gratitude beaming in her face, `that I have no words left,
and don't know how to do it.'
`Miss Dombey,' said Mr. Toots, in an awful voice, `if it was possible that
you could, consistently with your angelic nature, Curse me, you would--if I may
be allowed to say so--floor me infinitely less, than by these undeserved
expressions of kindness. Their effect upon me--is--but,' said Mr. Toots,
abruptly, `this is a digression, and's of no consequence at all.'
As there seemed to be no means of replying to this, but by thanking him
again, Florence thanked him again.
`I could wish,' said Mr. Toots, `to take this opportunity, Miss Dombey, if I
might, of entering into a word of explanation. I should have had the pleasure
of--of returning with Susan at an earlier period; but, in the first place, we
didn't know the name of the relation to whose house she had gone, and, in the
second, as she had left that relation's and gone to another at a distance, I
think that scarcely anything short of the sagacity of the Chicken, would have
found her out in the time.'
Florence was sure of it.
`This, however,' said Mr. Toots, `is not the point. The company of Susan has
been, I assure you, Miss Dombey, a consolation and satisfaction to me, in my
state of mind, more easily conceived than described. The journey has been its
own reward. That, however, still, is not the point. Miss Dombey, I have before
observed that I know I am not what is considered a quick person. I am perfectly
aware of that. I don't think anybody could be better acquainted with his own--if
it was not too strong an expression, I should say with the thickness of his own
head--than myself. But, Miss Dombey, I do, notwithstanding, perceive the state
of--of things--with Lieutenant Walters. Whatever agony that state of things may
have caused me (which is of no consequence at all), I am bound to say, that
Lieutenant Walters is a person who appears to be worthy of the blessing that has
fallen on his--on his brow. May he wear it long, and appreciate it, as a very
different, and very unworthy individual, that it is of no consequence to name,
would have done! That, however, still, is not the point. Miss Dombey, Captain
Gills is a friend of mine; and during the interval that is now elapsing, I
believe it would afford Captain Gills pleasure to see me occasionally coming
backwards and forwards here. It would afford me pleasure so to come. But I
cannot forget that I once committed myself, fatally, at the corner of the Square
at Brighton; and if my presence will be, in the least degree, unpleasant to you,
I only ask you to name it to me now, and assure you that I shall perfectly
understand you. I shall not consider it at all unkind, and shall only be too
delighted and happy to be honoured with your confidence.'
`Mr. Toots,' returned Florence, `if you, who are so old and true a friend of
mine, were to stay away from this house now, you would make me very unhappy. It
can never, never, give me any feeling but pleasure to see you.'
`Miss Dombey,' said Mr. Toots, taking out his pocket-handkerchief, `if I shed
a tear, it is a tear of joy. It is of no consequence, and I am very much obliged
to you. I may be allowed to remark, after what you have so kindly said, that it
is not my intention to neglect my person any longer.'
Florence received this intimation with the prettiest expression of perplexity
possible.
`I mean,' said Mr. Toots, `that I shall consider it my duty as a
fellow-creature generally, until I am claimed by the silent tomb, to make the
best of myself, and to--to have my boots as brightly polished, as--as
circumstances will admit of. This is the last time, Miss Dombey, of my intruding
any observation of a private and personal nature. I thank you very much indeed.
If I am not, in a general way, as sensible as my friends could wish me to be, or
as I could wish myself, I really am, upon my word and honour, particularly
sensible of what is considerate and kind. I feel,' said Mr. Toots, in an
impassioned tone, `as if I could express my feelings, at the present moment, in
a most remarkable manner, if--if--I could only get a start.'
Appearing not to get it, after waiting a minute or two to see if it would
come, Mr. Toots, took a hasty leave, and went below to seek the Captain, whom he
found in the shop.
`Captain Gills,' said Mr. Toots, `what is now to take place between us, takes
place under the sacred seal of confidence. It is the sequel, Captain Gills, of
what has taken place between myself and Miss Dombey, up stairs.'
`Alow and aloft, eh, my lad?' murmured the Captain.
`Exactly so, Captain Gills,' said Mr. Toots, whose fervour of acquiescence
was greatly heightened by his entire ignorance of the Captain's meaning. `Miss
Dombey, I believe, Captain Gills, is to be shortly united to Lieutenant
Walters?'
`Why, aye, my lad. We're all shipments here,--Wal'r and sweetheart will be
jined together in the house of bondage, as soon as the askings is over,'
whispered Captain Cuttle, in his ear.
`The askings, Captain Gills!' repeated Mr. Toots.
`In the church, down yonder,' said the Captain, pointing his thumb over his
shoulder.
`Oh! Yes!' returned Mr. Toots.
`And then,' said the Captain, in his hoarse whisper, and tapping Mr. Toots on
the chest with the back of his hand, and falling from him with a look of
infinite admiration, `what follers? That there pretty creetur, as delicately
brought up as a foreign bird, goes away upon the roaring main with Wal'r on a
woyage to China!'
`Lord, Captain Gills!' said Mr. Toots.
`Aye!' nodded the Captain. `The ship as took him up, when he was wrecked in
the hurricane that had drove her clean out of her course, was a China trader,
and Wal'r made the woyage, and got into favour, aboard and ashore--being as
smart and good a lad as ever stepped--and so, the supercargo dying at Canton, he
got made (having acted as clerk afore), and now he's supercargo aboard another
ship, same owners. And so, you see,' repeated the Captain, thoughtfully, `the
pretty creetur goes away upon the roaring main with Wal'r, on a woyage to
China.'
Mr. Toots and Captain Cuttle heaved a sigh in concert.
`What then?' said the Captain. `She loves him true. He loves her true. Them
as should have loved and tended of her, treated of her like the beasts as
perish. When she, cast out of home, come here to me, and dropped upon them
planks, her wownded heart was broke. I know it. I, Ed'ard Cuttle, see it.
There's nowt but true, kind, steady love, as can ever piece it up again. If so
be I didn't know that, and didn't know as Wal'r was her true love, brother, and
she his, I'd have these here blue arms and legs chopped off, afore I'd let her
go. But I do know it, and what then? Why, then, I say, Heaven go with 'em both,
and so it will! Amen!'
`Captain Gills,' said Mr. Toots, `let me have the pleasure of shaking hands.
You've a way of saying things, that gives me an agreeable warmth, all up my
back. I say Amen. You are aware, Captain Gills, that I, too, have adored Miss
Dombey.'
`Cheer up!' said the Captain, laying his hand on Mr. Toots's shoulder. `Stand
by, boy!'
`It is my intention, Captain Gills,' returned the spirited Mr. Toots, `to
cheer up. Also to stand by, as much as possible. When the silent tomb shall
yawn, Captain Gills, I shall be ready for burial; not before. But not being
certain, just at present, of my power over myself, what I wish to say to you,
and what I shall take it as a particular favour if you will mention to
Lieutenant Walters, is as follows.'
`Is as follers,' echoed the Captain. `Steady!'
`Miss Dombey being so inexpressibly kind,' continued Mr. Toots with watery
eyes, `as to say that my presence is the reverse of disagreeable to her, and you
and everybody here being no less forbearing and tolerant towards one who--who
certainly,' said Mr. Toots, with momentary dejection, `would appear to have been
born by mistake, I shall come backwards and forwards of an evening, during the
short time we can all be together. But what I ask is this. If, at any moment, I
find that I cannot endure the contemplation of Lieutenant Walters's bliss, and
should rush out, I hope, Captain Gills, that you and he will both consider it as
my misfortune and not my fault, or the want of inward conflict. That you'll feel
convinced I bear no malice to any living creature--least of all to Lieutenant
Walters himself--and that you'll casually remark that I have gone out for a
walk, or probably to see what o'clock it is by the Royal Exchange. Captain
Gills, if your could enter into this arrangement, and could answer for
Lieutenant Walters, it would be a relief to my feelings that I should think
cheap at the sacrifice of a considerable portion of my property.'
`My lad,' returned the Captain, `say no more. There ain't a colour you can
run up, as won't be made out, and answered to, by Wal'r and self.'
`Captain Gills,' said Mr. Toots, `my mind is greatly relieved. I wish to
preserve the good opinion of all here. I--I--mean well, upon my honour, however
badly I may show it. You know,' said Mr. Toots, `it's exactly as if Burgess and
Co. wished to oblige a customer with a most extraordinary pair of trousers, and
could not cut out what they had in their minds.'
With this apposite illustration, of which he seemed a little proud, Mr. Toots
gave captain Cuttle his blessing and departed.
The honest Captain, with his Heart's Delight in the house, and Susan tending
her, was a beaming and a happy man. As the days flew by, he grew more beaming
and more happy, every day. After some conferences with Susan (for whose wisdom
the Captain had a profound respect, and whose valiant precipitation of herself
on Mrs. MacStinger he could never forget), he proposed to Florence that the
daughter of the elderly lady who usually sat under the blue umbrella in
Leadenhall Market, should, for prudential reasons and considerations of privacy,
be superseded in the temporary discharge of the household duties, by some one
who was not unknown to them, and in whom they could safely confide. Susan, being
present, then named, in furtherance of a suggestion she had previously offered
to the Captain, Mrs. Richards. Florence brightened at the name. And Susan,
setting off that very afternoon to the Toodle domicile, to sound Mrs. Richards,
returned in triumph the same evening, accompanied by the identical rosy-cheeked
apple-faced Polly, whose demonstrations, when brought into Florence's presence,
were hardly less affectionate than those of Susan Nipper herself.
This piece of generalship accomplished; from which the Captain derived
uncommon satisfaction, as he did, indeed, from everything else that was done,
whatever it happened to be; Florence had next to prepare Susan for their
approaching separation. This was a much more difficult task, as Miss Nipper was
of a resolute disposition, and had fully made up her mind that she had come back
never to be parted from her old mistress any more.
`As to wages dear Miss Floy,' she said, `you wouldn't hint and wrong me so as
think of naming them, for I've put money by and wouldn't sell my love and duty
at a time like this even if the Savings' Banks and me were total strangers or
the Banks were broke to pieces, but you've never been without me darling from
the time your poor dear ma was took away, and though I'm nothing to be boasted
of you're used to me and oh my own dear mistress through so many years don't
think of going anywhere without me, for it mustn't and can't be!'
`Dear Susan, I am going on a long, long voyage.'
`Well Miss Floy, and what of that? the more you'll want me. Lengths of
voyages ain't an object in my eyes, thank God!' said the impetuous Susan Nipper.
`But, Susan, I am going with Walter, and I would go with Walter
anywhere--everywhere! Walter is poor, and I am very poor, and I must learn, now,
both to help myself, and help him.'
`Dear Miss Floy!' cried Susan, bursting out afresh, and shaking her head
violently, `it's nothing new to you to help yourself and others too and be the
patientest and truest of noble hearts, but let me talk to Mr. Walter Gay and
settle it with him, for suffer you to go away across the world alone I cannot,
and I won't.'
`Alone, Susan?' returned Florence. `Alone? and Walter taking me with him!'
Ah, what a bright, amazed, enraptured smile was on her face!--He should have
seen it. `I am sure you will not speak to Walter if I ask you not,' she added
tenderly; `and pray don't, dear.'
Susan sobbed `Why not, Miss Floy?'
`Because,' said Florence, `I am going to be his wife, to give him up my whole
heart, and to live with him and die with him. He might think, if you said to him
what you have said to me, that I am afraid of what is before me, or that you
have some cause to be afraid for me. Why, Susan, dear, I love him!'
Miss Nipper was so much affected by the quiet fervour of these words, and
simple, heartfelt, all-pervading earnestness expressed in them, and making the
speaker's face more beautiful and pure than ever, that she could only cling to
her again, crying Was her little mistress really, really going to be married,
and pitying, caressing, and protecting her, as she had done before.
But the Nipper, though susceptible of womanly weaknesses, was almost as
capable of putting constraint upon herself as of attacking the redoubtable
MacStinger. From that time, she never returned to the subject, but was always
cheerful, active, bustling, and hopeful. She did, indeed, inform Mr. Toots
privately, that she was only `keeping up' for the time, and that when it was all
over, and Miss Dombey was gone, she might be expected to become a spectacle
distressful; and Mr. Toots did also express that it was his case too, and that
they would mingle their tears together; but she never otherwise indulged her
private feelings in the presence of Florence or within the precincts of the
Midshipman.
Limited and plain as Florence's wardrobe was--what a contrast to that
prepared for the last marriage in which she had taken part!--there was a good
deal to do in getting it ready, and Susan Nipper worked away at her side, all
day, with the concentrated zeal of fifty sempstresses. The wonderful
contributions Captain Cuttle would have made to this branch of the outfit, if he
had been permitted--as pink parasols, tinted silk stockings, blue shoes, and
other articles no less necessary on shipboard--would occupy some space in the
recital. He was induced, however, by various fraudulent representations, to
limit his contributions to a workbox and dressing-case, of each of which he
purchased the very largest specimen that could be got for money. For ten days or
a fortnight afterwards, he generally sat, during the greater part of the day,
gazing at these boxes; divided between extreme admiration of them, and dejected
misgivings that they were not gorgeous enough, and frequently diving out into
the street to purchase some wild article that he deemed necessary to their
completeness. But his master-stroke was, the bearing of them both off, suddenly,
one morning, and getting the two words FLORENCE GAY engraved upon a brass heart
inlaid over the lid of each. After this, he smoked four pipes successively in
the little parlour by himself, and was discovered chuckling, at the expiration
of as many hours.
Walter was busy and away all day, but came there every morning early to see
Florence, and always passed the evening with her. Florence never left her high
rooms but to steal downstairs to wait for him when it was his time to come, or,
sheltered by his proud, encircling arm, to bear him company to the door again,
and sometimes peep into the street. In the twilight they were always together.
Oh blessed time! Oh wandering heart at rest! Oh deep, exhaustless, mighty well
of love, in which so much was sunk!
The cruel mark was on her bosom yet. It rose against her father with the
breath she drew, it lay between her and her lover when he pressed her to his
heart. But she forgot it. In the beating of that heart for her, and in the
beating of her own for him, all harsher music was unheard, all stern unloving
hearts forgotten. Fragile and delicate she was, but with a might of love within
her that could, and did, create a world to fly to, and to rest in, out of his
one image.
How often did the great house, and the old days, come before her in the
twilight time, when she was sheltered by the arm, so proud, so fond, and,
creeping closer to him, shrunk within it at the recollection! How often, from
remembering the night when she went down to that room and met the
never-to-be-forgotten look, did she raise her eyes to those that watched her
with such loving earnestness, and weep with happiness in such a refuge! The more
she clung to it, the more the dear dead child was in her thoughts: but as if the
last time she had seen her father, had been when he was sleeping and she kissed
his face, she always left him so, and never, in her fancy, passed that hour.
`Walter, dear,' said Florence, one evening, when it was almost dark. `Do you
Know what I have been thinking to-day?'
`Thinking how the time is flying on, and how soon we shall be upon the sea,
sweet Florence?'
`I don't mean that, Walter, though I think of that too. I have been thinking
what a charge I am to you.'
`A precious, sacred charge, dear heart! Why Ithink that sometimes.'
`You are laughing, Walter. I know that's much more in your thoughts than
mine. But I mean a cost.'
`A cost, my own?'
`In money, dear. All these preparations that Susan and I are so busy with--I
have been able to purchase very little for myself. You were poor before. But how
much poorer I shall make you, Walter!'
`And how much richer, Florence!'
Florence laughed, and shook her head.
`Besides,' said Walter, `long ago--before I went to sea--I had a little purse
presented to me, dearest, which had money in it.'
`Ah!' returned Florence, laughing sorrowfully, `very little!Very little,
Walter! But, you must not think,' and here she laid her light hand on his
shoulder, and looked into his face, `that I regret to be this burden on you. No,
dear love, I am glad of it. I am happy in it. I wouldn't have it otherwise for
all the world!'
`Nor I, indeed, dear Florence.'
`Aye! but, Walter, you can never feel it as I do. I am so proud of you! It
makes my heart swell with such delight to know that those who speak of you must
say you married a poor disowned girl, who had taken shelter here; who had no
other home, no other friends; who had nothing--nothing! Oh, Walter, if I could
have brought you millions, I never could have been so happy for your sake, as I
am!'
`And you, dear Florence? are you nothing?' he returned.
`No, nothing, Walter. Nothing but your wife.' The light hand stole about his
neck, and the voice came nearer--nearer. `I am nothing any more, that is not
you. I have no earthly hope any more, that is not you. I have nothing dear to me
any more, that is not you.'
Oh! well might Mr. Toots leave the little company that evening, and twice go
out to correct his watch by the Royal Exchange, and once to keep an appointment
with a banker which he suddenly remembered, and once to take a little turn to
Aldgate Pump and back!
But before he went upon these expeditions, or indeed before he came, and
before lights were brought, Walter said:
`Florence, love, the lading of our ship is nearly finished, and probably on
the very day of our marriage she will drop down the river. Shall we go away that
morning, and stay in Kent until we go on board at Gravesend within a week?'
`If you please, Walter. I shall be happy anywhere. But
`Yes, my life?'
`You know,' said Florence, `that we shall have no marriage party, and that
nobody will distinguish us by our dress from other people. As we leave the same
day, will you--will you take me somewhere that morning, Walter--early--before we
go to church?'
Walter seemed to understand her, as so true a lover so truly loved should,
and confirmed his ready promise with a kiss--with more than one perhaps, or two
or three, or five or six; and in the grave, peaceful evening, Florence was very
happy.
Then into the quiet room came Susan Nipper and the candles: shortly
afterwards, the tea, the Captain, and the excursive Mr. Toots, who, as above
mentioned, was frequently on the move afterwards, and passed but a restless
evening. This, however, was not his habit: for he generally got on very well, by
dint of playing at cribbage with the Captain under the advice and guidance of
Miss Nipper, and distracting his mind with the calculations incidental to the
game; which he found to be a very effectual means of utterly confounding
himself.
The Captain's visage on these occasions presented one of the finest examples
of combination and succession of expression ever observed. His instinctive
delicacy and his chivalrous feeling towards Florence, taught him that it was not
a time for any boisterous jollity, or violent display of satisfaction. Certain
floating reminiscences of Lovely Peg, on the other hand, were constantly
struggling for a vent, and urging the Captain to commit himself by some
irreparable demonstration. Anon, his admiration of Florence and
Walter--well-matched, truly, and full of grace and interest in their youth, and
love, and good looks, as they sat apart--would take such complete possession of
him, that he would lay down his cards, and beam upon them, dabbing his head all
over with his pocket-handkerchief; until warned, perhaps, by the sudden rushing
forth of Mr. Toots, that he had unconsciously been very instrumental, indeed, in
making that gentleman miserable. This reflection would make the Captain
profoundly melancholy, until the return of Mr. Toots; when he would fall to his
cards again, with many side winks and nods, and polite waves of his hook at Miss
Nipper, importing that he wasn't going to do so any more. The state that ensued
on this, was, perhaps, his best; for then, endeavouring to discharge all
expression from his face, he would sit, staring round the room, with all these
expressions conveyed into it at once, and each wrestling with the other.
Delighted admiration of Florence and Walter always overthrew the rest, and
remained victorious and undisguised, unless Mr. Toots made another rush into the
air, and then the Captain would sit, like a remorseful culprit, until he came
back again, occasionally calling upon himself, in a low reproachful voice, to
`Stand by!' or growling some remonstrance to `Ed'ard Cuttle, my lad,'on the want
of caution observable in his behaviour.
One of Mr. Toots's hardest trials, however, was of his own seeking. On the
approach of the Sunday which was to witness the last of those askings in church
of which the Captain had spoken, Mr. Toots thus stated his feelings to Susan
Nipper.
`Susan,' said Mr. Toots, `I am drawn towards the building. The words which
cut me off from Miss Dombey for ever, will strike upon my ears like a knell you
know, but upon my word and honour, I feel that I must hear them. Therefore,'
said Mr. Toots, `will you accompany me to-morrow, to the sacred edifice?'
Miss Nipper expressed her readiness to do so, if that would be any
satisfaction to Mr. Toots, but besought him to abandon his idea of going.
`Susan,' returned Mr. Toots, with much solemnity, `before my whiskers began
to be observed by anybody but myself, I adored Miss Dombey. While yet a victim
to the thraldom of Blimber, I adored Miss Dombey. When I could no longer be kept
out of my property, in a legal point of view, and--and accordingly came into
it--I adored Miss Dombey. The banns which consign her to Lieutenant Walters, and
me to--to Gloom, you know,' said Mr. Toots, after hesitating for a strong
expression, `may be dreadful, will be dreadful; but I feel that I should wish to
hear them spoken. I feel that I should wish to know that the ground was
certainly cut from under me, and that I hadn't a hope to cherish, or a--or a
leg, in short, to--to go upon.'
Susan Nipper could only commiserate Mr. Toots's unfortunate condition, and
agree, under these circumstances, to accompany him; which she did next morning.
The church Walter had chosen for the purpose, was a mouldy old church in a
yard, hemmed in by a labyrinth of back streets and courts, with a little
burying-ground round it, and itself buried in a kind of vault, formed by the
neighbouring houses, and paved with echoing stones. It was a great dim, shabby
pile, with high old oaken pews, among which about a score of people lost
themselves every Sunday; while the clergyman's voice drowsily resounded through
the emptiness, and the organ rumbled and rolled as if the church had got the
colic, for want of a congregation to keep the wind and damp out. But so far was
this city church from languishing for the company of other churches, that spires
were clustered round it, as the masts of shipping cluster on the river. It would
have been hard to count them from its steeple-top, they were so many. In almost
every yard and blind-place near, there was a church. The confusion of bells when
Susan and Mr. Toots betook themselves towards it on the Sunday morning, was
deafening. There were twenty churches close together, clamouring for people to
come in.
The two stray sheep in question were penned by a beadle in a commodious pew,
and, being early, sat for some time counting the congregation, listening to the
disappointed bell high up in the tower, or looking at a shabby little old man in
the porch behind the screen, who was ringing the same, like the Bull in Cock
Robin, with his foot in a stirrup. Mr. Toots, after a lengthened survey of the
large books on the reading-desk, whispered Miss Nipper that he wondered where
the banns were kept, but that young lady merely shook her head and forward;
repelling for the time all approaches of a temporal nature.
Mr. Toots, however, appearing unable to keep his thoughts from the banns, was
evidently looking out for them during the whole preliminary portion of the
service. As the time for reading them approached, the poor young gentleman
manifested great anxiety and trepidation, which was not diminished by the
unexpected apparition of the Captain in the front row of the gallery. When the
clerk handed up a list to the clergyman, Mr. Toots, being then seated, held on
by the seat of the pew; but when the names of Walter Gay and Florence Dombey
were read aloud as being in the third and last stage of that association, he was
so entirely conquered by his feelings as to rush from the church without his
hat, followed by the beadle and pew-opener, and two gentlemen of the medical
profession, who happened to be present; of whom the first-named presently
returned for that article, informing Miss Nipper in a whisper that she was not
to make herself uneasy about the gentleman, as the gentleman said his
indisposition was of no consequence.
Miss Nipper, feeling that the eyes of that integral portion of Europe which
lost itself weekly among the high-backed pews, were upon her, would have been
sufficiently embarrassed by this incident, though it had terminated here; the
more so, as the Captain in the front row of the gallery, was in a state of
unmitigated consciousness which could hardly fail to express to the congregation
that he had some mysterious connexion with it. But the extreme restlessness of
Mr. Toots painfully increased and protracted the delicacy of her situation. That
young gentleman, incapable, in his state of mind, of remaining alone in the
churchyard, a prey to solitary meditation, and also desirous, no doubt, of
testifying his respect for the offices he had in some measure interrupted,
suddenly returned--not coming back to the pew, but stationing himself on a free
seat in the aisle, between two elderly females who were in the habit of
receiving their portion of a weekly dole of bread then set forth on a shelf in
the porch. In this conjunction Mr. Toots remained, greatly disturbing the
congregation, who felt it impossible to avoid looking at him, until his feelings
overcame him again, when he departed silently and suddenly. Not venturing to
trust himself in the church any more, and yet wishing to have some social
participation in what was going on there, Mr. Toots was after this, seen from
time to time, looking in, with a lorn aspect, at one or other of the windows;
and as there were several windows accessible to him from without, and as his
restlessness was very great, it not only became difficult to conceive at which
window he would appear next, but likewise became necessary, as it were, for the
whole congregation to speculate upon the chances of the different windows,
during the comparative leisure afforded them by the sermon. Mr. Toots's
movements in the churchyard were so eccentric, that he seemed generally to
defeat all calculation, and to appear, like the conjuror's figure, where he was
least expected; and the effect of these mysterious presentations was much
increased by its being difficult to him to see in, and easy to everybody else to
see out: which occasioned his remaining, every time, longer than might have been
expected, with his face close to the glass, until he all at once became aware
that all eyes were upon him, and vanished.
These proceedings on the part of Mr. Toots, and the strong individual
consciousness of them that was exhibited by the Captain, rendered Miss Nipper's
position so responsible a one, that she was mightily relieved by the conclusion
of the service; and was hardly so affable to Mr. Toots as usual, when he
informed her and the Captain, on the way back, that now he was sure he had no
hope, you know, he felt more comfortable--at least not exactly more comfortable,
but more comfortably and completely miserable.
Swiftly now, indeed, the time flew by until it was the evening before the day
appointed for the marriage. They were all assembled in the upper room at the
Midshipman's, and had no fear of interruption; for there were no lodgers in the
house now, and the Midshipman had it all to himself. They were grave and quiet
in the prospect of to-morrow, but moderately cheerful too. Florence, with Walter
close beside her, was finishing a little piece of work intended as a parting
gift to the Captain. The Captain was playing cribbage with Mr. Toots. Mr. Toots
was taking counsel as to his hand, of Susan Nipper. Miss Nipper was giving it,
with all due secrecy and circumspection. Diogenes was listening, and
occasionally breaking out into a gruff half-smothered fragment of a bark, of
which he afterwards seemed half-ashamed, as if he doubted having any reason for
it.
`Steady, steady!' said the Captain to Diogenes, `what's amiss with you? You
don't seem easy in your mind to-night, my boy!'
Diogenes wagged his tail, but pricked up his ears immediately afterwards, and
gave utterance to another fragment of a bark; for which he apologised to the
Captain, by again wagging his tail.
`It's my opinion, Di,' said the Captain, looking thoughtfully at his cards,
and stroking his chin with his hook, `as you have your doubts of Mrs. Richards;
but if you're the animal I take you to be, you'll think better o' that; for her
looks is her commission. Now, Brother:' to Mr. Toots: `if so be as you're ready,
heave ahead.'
The Captain spoke with all composure and attention to the game, but suddenly
his cards dropped out of his hand, his mouth and eyes opened wide, his legs drew
themselves up and stuck out in front of his chair, and he sat staring at the
door with blank amazement. Looking round upon the company, and seeing that none
of them observed him or the cause of his astonishment, the Captain recovered
himself with a great gasp, struck the table a tremendous blow, cried in a
stentorian roar, `Sol Gills ahoy!' and tumbled into the arms of a weather-beaten
pea-coat that had come with Polly into the room.
In another moment, Walter was in the arms of the weather-beaten pea-coat. In
another moment, Florence was in the arms of the weather-beaten pea-coat. In
another moment, Captain Cuttle had embraced Mrs. Richards and Miss Nipper, and
was violently shaking hands with Mr. Toots, exclaiming, as he waved his hook
above his head, `Hooroar, my lad, hooroar!' To which Mr. Toots, wholly at a loss
to account for these proceedings, replied with great politeness, `Certainly,
Captain Gills, whatever you think proper!'
The weather-beaten pea-coat, and a no less weather-beaten cap and comforter
belonging to it, turned from the Captain and from Florence back to Walter, and
sounds came from the weather-beaten pea-coat, cap, and comforter, as of an old
man sobbing underneath them; while the shaggy sleeves clasped Walter tight.
During this pause, there was an universal silence, and the Captain polished his
nose with great diligence. But when the pea-coat, cap, and comforter lifted
themselves up again, Florence gently moved towards them; and she and Walter
taking them off, disclosed the old Instrument-maker, a little thinner and more
careworn than of old, in his old Welsh wig and his old coffee-coloured coat and
basket buttons, with his old infallible chronometer ticking away in his pocket.
`Chock full o' science,' said the radiant Captain, `as ever he was! Sol
Gills, Sol Gills, what have you been up to, for this many a long day, my ould
boy?'
`I'm half blind, Ned,' said the old man, `and almost deaf and dumb with joy.'
`His wery woice,' said the Captain, looking round with an exultation to which
even his face could hardly render justice--`his wery woice as chock full o'
science as ever it was! Sol Gills, lay to, my lad, upon your own wines and
fig-trees, like a taut ould patriark as you are, and overhaul them there
adwentures o' yourn, in your own formilior woice. 'Tis the woice, said the
Captain, impressively, and announcing a quotation with his hook, `of the
sluggard, I heerd him complain, you have woke me too soon, I must slumber again.
Scatter his ene-mies, and make 'em fall!'
The Captain sat down with the air of a man who had happily expressed the
feeling of everybody present, and immediately rose again to present Mr. Toots,
who was much disconcerted by the arrival of anybody, appearing to prefer a claim
to the name of Gills.
`Although,' stammered Mr. Toots, `I had not the pleasure of your
acquaintance, Sir, before you were--you were--'
`Lost to sight, to memory dear,' suggested the Captain, in a low voice.
`Exactly so, Captain Gills!' assented Mr. Toots. `Although I had not the
pleasure of your acquaintance, Mr.--Mr. Sols,' said Toots, hitting on that name
in the inspiration of a bright idea, `before that happened, I have the greatest
pleasure, I assure you, in--you know, in knowing you. I hope,' said Mr. Toots,
`that you're as well as can be expected.'
With these courteous words, Mr. Toots sat down blushing and chuckling.
The old Instrument-maker, seated in a corner between Walter and Florence, and
nodding at Polly, who was looking on, all smiles and delight, answered the
Captain thus:
`Ned Cuttle, my dear boy, although I have heard something of the changes of
events here, from my pleasant friend there--what a pleasant face she has to be
sure, to welcome a wanderer home!' said the old man, breaking off, and rubbing
his hands in his old dreamy way.
`Hear him!' cried the Captain gravely. `'Tis woman as seduces all mankind.
For which,' aside to Mr. Toots, `you'll overhaul your Adam and Eve, brother.'
`I shall make a point of doing so, Captain Gills,' said Mr. Toots.
`Although I have heard something of the changes of events, from her,' resumed
the Instrument-maker, taking his old spectacles from his pocket, and putting
them on his forehead in his old manner, `they are so great and unexpected, and I
am so overpowered by the sight of my dear boy, and by the,'--glancing at the
downcast eyes of Florence, and not attempting to finish the sentence--`that I--I
can't say much to-night. But my dear Ned Cuttle, why didn't you write?'
The astonishment depicted in the Captain's features positively frightened Mr.
Toots, whose eyes were quite fixed by it, so that he could not withdraw them
from his face.
`Write!' echoed the Captain. `Write, Sol Gills?'
`Aye,' said the old man, `either to Barbados, or Jamaica, or Demerara. That
was what I asked.'
`What you asked, Sol Gills?' repeated the Captain.
`Aye,' said the old man. `Don't you know, Ned? Sure you have not forgotten?
Every time I wrote to you.'
The Captain took off his glazed hat, hung it on his hook, and smoothing his
hair from behind with his hand, sat gazing at the group around him: a perfect
image of wondering resignation.
`You don't appear to understand me, Ned!' observed old Sol.
`Sol Gills,' returned the Captain, after staring at him and the rest for a
long time, without speaking, `I'm gone about and adrift. Pay out a word or two
respecting them adwenturs, will you! Can't I bring up, nohows? Nohows?' said the
Captain, ruminating, and staring all round.
`You know, Ned,' said Sol Gills, `why I left here. Did you open my packet,
Ned?'
`Why, aye, aye,' said the Captain. `To be sure, I opened the packet.'
`And read it?' said the old man.
`And read it,' answered the Captain, eyeing him attentively, and proceeding
to quote it from memory. `"My dear Ned Cuttle, when I left home for the West
Indies in forlorn search of intelligence of my dear--" There he sits! There's
Wal'r!' said the Captain, as if he were relieved by getting hold of anything
that was real and indisputable.
`Well, Ned. Now attend a moment!' said the old man. `When I wrote first--that
was from Barbados--I said that though you would receive that letter long before
the year was out, I should be glad if you would open the packet, as it explained
the reason of my going away. Very good, Ned. When I wrote the second, third, and
perhaps the fourth times--that was from Jamaica--I said I was in just the same
state, couldn't rest, and couldn't come away from that part of the world,
without knowing that my boy was lost or saved. When I wrote next--that, I think,
was from Demerara, wasn't it?'
`That he thinks was from Demerara, warn't it!' said the Captain, looking
hopelessly round.
`--I said,' proceeded old Sol, `that still there was no certain information
got yet. That I found many captains and others, in that part of the world, who
had known me for years, and who assisted me with a passage here and there, and
for whom I was able, now and then, to do a little in return, in my own craft.
That every one was sorry for me, and seemed to take a sort of interest in my
wanderings; and that I began to think it would be my fate to cruise about in
search of tidings of my boy until I died.'
`Began to think as how he was a scientific flying Dutchman!' said the
Captain, as before, and with great seriousness.
`But when the news come one day, Ned,--that was to Barbados, after I got back
there,--that a China trader home'ard bound had been spoke, that had my boy
aboard, then, Ned, I took passage in the next ship and came home; arrived at
home to-night to find it true, thank God!' said the old man, devoutly.
The Captain, after bowing his head with great reverence, stared all round the
circle, beginning with Mr. Toots, and ending with the Instrument-maker; then
gravely said:
`Sol Gills! The observation as I'm a-going to make is calc'lated to blow
every stitch of sail as you can carry, clean out of the bolt-ropes, and bring
you on your beam ends with a lurch. Not one of them letters was ever delivered
to Ed'ard Cuttle. Not one o' them letters,' repeated the Captain, to make his
declaration the more solemn and impressive, `was ever delivered unto Ed'ard
Cuttle, Mariner, of England, as lives at home at ease, and doth improve each
shining hour!'
`And posted by my own hand! And directed by my own hand, Number nine Brig
Place!' exclaimed old Sol.
The colour all went out of the Captain's face, and all came back again in a
glow.
`What do you mean, Sol Gills, my friend, by Number nine Brig Place?' inquired
the Captain.
`Mean? Your lodgings, Ned,' returned the old man. `Mrs. What's-her-name! I
shall forget my own name next, but I am behind the present time--I always was,
you recollect --and very much confused. Mrs.'
`Sol Gills!' said the Captain, as if he were putting the most improbable case
in the world, `it ain't the name of MacStinger as you're a trying to remember?'
`Of course it is!' exclaimed the Instrument-maker. `To be sure Ned. Mrs.
MacStinger!'
Captain Cuttle, whose eyes were now as wide open as they could be, and the
knobs upon whose face were perfectly luminous, gave a long shrill whistle of a
most melancholy sound, and stood gazing at everybody in a state of
speechlessness.
`Overhaul that there again, Sol Gills, will you be so kind?' he said at last.
`All these letters,' returned Uncle Sol, beating time with the forefinger of
his right hand upon the palm of his left, with a steadiness and distinctness
that might have done honour, even to the infallible chronometer in his pocket,
`I posted with my own hand, and directed with my own hand, to Captain Cuttle, at
Mrs. MacStinger's, Number nine Brig Place.'
The Captain took his glazed hat off his hook, looked into it, put it on, and
sat down.
`Why, friends all,' said the Captain, staring round in the last state of
discomfiture, `I cut and run from there!'
`And no one knew where you were gone, Captain Cuttle?' cried Walter hastily.
`Bless your heart, Wal'r,' said the Captain, shaking his head, `she'd never
have allowed o' my coming to take charge o' this here property. Nothing could be
done but cut and run. Lord love you, Wal'r!' said the Captain, `you've only seen
her in a calm! But see her when her angry passions rise--and make a note on!'
`I'd give it her!' remarked the Nipper, softly.
`Would you, do you think, my dear?' returned the Captain with feeble
admiration. `Well, my dear, it does you credit. But there ain't no wild animal I
would sooner face myself. I only got my chest away by means of a friend as
nobody's a match for. It was no good sending any letter there. She wouldn't take
in any letter, bless you,' said the Captain, `under them circumstances! Why, you
could hardly make it worth a man's while to be the postman!'
`Then it's pretty clear, Captain Cuttle, that all of us, and you and Uncle
Sol especially,' said Walter, `may thank Mrs. MacStinger for no small anxiety.'
The general obligation in this wise to the determined relict of the late Mr.
MacStinger, was so apparent, that the Captain did not contest the point; but
being in some measure ashamed of his position, though nobody dwelt upon the
subject, and Walter especially avoided it, remembering the last conversation he
and the Captain had held together respecting it, he remained under a cloud for
nearly five minutes--an extra-ordinary period for him--when that sun, his face,
broke out once more, shining on all beholders with extraordinary brilliancy; and
he fell into a fit of shaking hands with everybody over and over again.
At an early hour, but not before Uncle Sol and Walter had questioned each
other at some length about their voyages and dangers, they all, except Walter,
vacated Florence's room, and went down to the parlour. Here they were soon
afterwards joined by Walter, who told them Florence was a little sorrowful and
heavy-hearted, and had gone to bed. Though they could not have disturbed her
with their voices down there, they all spoke in a whisper after this: and each,
in his different way, felt very lovingly and gently towards Walter's fair young
bride: and a long explanation there was of everything relating to her, for the
satisfaction of Uncle Sol; and very sensible Mr. Toots was of the delicacy with
which Walter made his name and services important, and his presence necessary to
their little council.
`Mr. Toots,' said Walter, on parting with him at the house door, `we shall
see each other to-morrow morning?'
`Lieutenant Walters,' returned Mr. Toots, grasping his hand fervently, `I
shall certainly be present.'
`This is the last night we shall meet for a long time--the last night we may
ever meet,' said Walter. `Such a noble heart as yours, must feel, I think, when
another heart is bound to it. I hope you know that I am very grateful to you?'
`Walters,' replied Mr. Toots, quite touched, `I should be glad to feel that
you had reason to be so.' '
`Florence,' said Walter, `on this last night of her bearing her own name, has
made me promise--it was only just now, when you left us together--that I would
tell you--with her dear love--'
Mr. Toots laid his hand upon the doorpost, and his eyes upon his hand.
`--with her dear love,' said Walter, `that she can never have a friend whom
she will value above you. That the recollection of your true consideration for
her always, can never be forgotten by her. That she remembers you in her prayers
to-night, and hopes that you will think of her when she is far away. Shall I say
anything for you?'
`Say, Walter,' replied Mr. Toots indistinctly, `that I shall think of her
every day, but never without feeling happy to know that she is married to the
man she loves, and who loves her. Say, if you please, that I am sure her husband
deserves her--even her!--and that I am glad of her choice.'
Mr. Toots got more distinct as he came to these last words, and raising his
eyes from the doorpost, said them stoutly. He then shook Walter's hand again
with a fervour that Walter was not slow to return, and started homeward.
Mr. Toots was accompanied by the Chicken, whom he had of late brought with
him every evening, and left in the shop, with an idea that unforeseen
circumstances might arise from without, in which the prowess of that
distinguished character would be of service to the Midshipman. The Chicken did
not appear to be in a particularly good humour on this occasion. Either the
gas-lamps were treacherous, or he cocked his eye in a hideous manner, and
likewise distorted his nose, when Mr. Toots, crossing the road, looked back over
his shoulder at the room where Florence slept. On the road home, he was more
demonstrative of aggressive intentions against the other foot-passengers, than
comported with a professor of the peaceful art of self-defence. Arrived at home,
instead of leaving Mr. Toots in his apartments when he had escorted him thither,
he remained before him weighing his white hat in both hands by the brim, and
twitching his head and nose (both of which had been many times broken, and but
indifferently repaired), with an air of decided disrespect.
His patron being much engaged with his own thoughts, did not observe this for
some time, nor indeed until the Chicken, determined not to be overlooked, had
made divers clicking sounds with his tongue and teeth, to attract attention.
`Now, Master,' said the Chicken, doggedly, when he, at length, caught Mr.
Toot's eye, `I want to know whether this here gammon is to finish it, or whether
you're a going in to win?'
`Chicken,' returned Mr. Toots, `explain yourself.'
`Why then, here's all about it, Master,' said the Chicken. `I ain't a cove to
chuck a word away. Here's wot it is. Are any on 'em to be doubled up?'
When the Chicken put this question he dropped his hat, made a dodge and a
feint with his left hand, hit a supposed enemy a violent blow with his right,
shook his head smartly, and recovered himself.
`Come, Master,' said the Chicken. `Is it to be gammon or pluck? Which?'
`Chicken,' returned Mr. Toots, `your expressions are coarse, and your meaning
is obscure.'
`Why, then, I tell you what, Master,' said the Chicken. `This is where it is.
It's mean.'
`What is mean, Chicken?' asked Mr. Toots.
`It is,' said the Chicken, with a frightful corrugation of his broken nose.
`There! Now, Master! Wot! When you could go and blow on this here match to the
stiff 'un;' by which depreciatory appellation it has been since supposed that
the Game One intended to signify Mr. Dombey; `and when you could knock the
winner and all the kit of 'em dead out o' wind and time, are you going to give
in? To give in?' said the Chicken, with contemptuous emphasis. `Wy, it's mean!'
`Chicken,' said Mr. Toots, severely, `you're a perfect Vulture! Your
sentiments are atrocious.'
`My sentiments is Game and Fancy, Master,' returned the Chicken. `That's wot
my sentiments is. I can't abear a meanness. I'm afore the public, I'm to be
heerd on at the bar of the Little Helephant, and no Gov'ner o' mine mustn't go
and do what's mean. Wy, it's mean,' said the Chicken, with increased expression.
`That's where it is. It's mean.'
`Chicken,' said Mr. Toots, `You disgust me.'
`Master,' returned the Chicken, putting on his hat, `there's a pair on us,
then. Come! Here's a offer! You've spoke to me more than once't or twice't about
the public line. Never mind! Give me a fi'typunnote to-morrow, and let me go.'
`Chicken,' returned Mr. Toots, `after the odious sentiments you have
expressed, I shall be glad to part on such terms.'
`Done then,' said the Chicken. `It's a bargain. This here conduct of yourn
won't suit my book, Master. Wy, it's mean,' said the Chicken; who seemed equally
unable to get beyond that point, and to stop short of it. `That's where it is;
it's mean!'
So Mr. Toots and the Chicken agreed to part on this incompatibility of moral
perception; and Mr. Toots lying down to sleep, dreamed happily of Florence, who
had thought of him as her friend upon the last night of her maiden life, and who
had sent him her dear love.
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