University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.
Robin goes in quest of Mr. Bloodmoney; and how he fares in the
hands of that gentleman.

It was already evening when I set out; and Mr.
Bloodmoney's house being at a considerable distance,
it was dark before I reached the street in which he
resided, and endeavoured, in the light of the lamps,
to discover his dwelling.

While I was engaged in the search, which was
the more difficult because the houses were all built
after the same pattern, and none of them furnished
with door-plates—for, it seemed, the citizens residing
in this quarter were too great and distinguished
to suppose any body in the world could require such
vulgar guides to their mansions—I had the misfortune
to run against a man who was hurrying by; by
which accident both of us were staggered and well
nigh overthrown. The stranger, who, although a
stout and muscular personage, had received the
greater damage, ripped out a dreadful oath, and demanded
what I meant by running against him, the
question being asked in such a ferocious style of bullying
and profanity, that I stood aghast, and began,
as soon as I could gather the breath which had been
knocked out of my body, to stammer forth excuses
and apologies, assuring him, in my confusion, that I
had been so intently occupied looking for Mr. Bloodmoney's

house, that I had forgotten every thing else,
and so failed to notice his approach; and upon his
demanding, which he did with some appearance of
surprise, and another oath, what I wanted with Mr.
Bloodmoney, I replied, with great frankness, (for I
thought, from his tone, he must be an acquaintance of
the gentleman, and might therefore direct me to his
house,) that I had a letter for him from his friend
and kinsman, Dr. Howard; and, indeed, I had it in
my hand at the moment, having taken it from my
pocket on arriving at the square.

“My friend, Dr. Howard?” cried the gentleman,
with another oath, though in tones somewhat more
amiable; and, as he spoke, he whisked the letter out
of my hand, and advanced to a lamp to read it, assuring
me, to my amazement, that I had lighted
upon my man, Mr. Bloodmoney himself.

While I was wondering both at the oddness of
the encounter, and the singular conversation, manners,
and appearance of the gentleman, which did
not at all answer the opinions I had conceived of
him, he opened the letter, withdrew the inclosure,
consisting of several bank-notes, which, with a
hearty and approving malediction on his blood and
the lamplight, he transferred to his pocket, and
then made an effort to read the letter; but this was
rendered vain by the insufficiency of the light and
the impatience of the reader, who to every word he
succeeded in spelling out, added a running commentary
of execrations on the crabbedness of the
chirography. Nevertheless, with the help of an
occasional hint from myself, he made out enough to
understand the nature of the application, of which
he expressed his approval by observing, that, “when
one was too big a rascal for the land, the sea was
the only place for making him a gentleman;” and

then asked whether I had been “breaking a strong-box
or slicing a weasand?”

I replied, with some spirit—being, indeed, affected
by the unsavoury nature of these innuendoes—“that
I was no such contemptible villain as he seemed to
consider me, and knew nothing of broken strong-boxes
or sliced weasands, but had had the misfortune
to kill a tyrannical schoolmaster, or at the least, to
beat him within an ace of his life; for which it was
thought —.” But here Mr. Bloodmoney burst
into a laugh, shook me by the hand, and swore I
was a fine fellow and should have a berth in the
Lovely Nancy, which, it appeared, was the name of
his privateer. This declaration he accompanied by
asking, “how I stood furnished in the locker,” or,
as he afterwards expressed it, “what funds I had
for my outfit;” and upon my intimating, that, besides
the sum contained in the letter, my patron
would supply me further, according as he himself
should direct, he swore, with every appearance of
satisfaction, that he—that is, my patron, his friend
and kinsman—was “the right sort of an old hunks,”
and invited me to follow him to a tavern, to discuss
the matter at leisure. I was surprised he did not take
me to his house, which was so near; but perceiving
from his conversation that he was an odd sort of personage,
I followed at his heels without demur, and was
led by him into a very mean by-street and a mean-looking
house; which he, however, declared was a
snug and respectable place, fit enough for our business.
Here he ordered a room, with a supper, which,
being a very extemporary one of steaks and oysters,
entered the room nearly as soon as ourselves; and being
garnished with a flagon of ale and a bottle of wine,
was attacked by him with a zeal and energy that
struck me with as much surprise as I felt at his personal

appearance, now revealed in the light of two
tallow candles for the first time. He was a middle-sized
man, but very muscular, as I mentioned before,
dressed in clothes, which, though of good blue
broad-cloth, were none of the newest or handsomest,
and looked out of place upon him, who, I could not
help thinking, had the air of a sailor in landsman's
toggery; for which opinion there was the better
reason, as his conversation had throughout a
strong smack of the sea. His countenance was bold,
and alternately repulsive and prepossessing, being
now open and jocund, and now, if he but chanced to
purse his brows together, as black and glum as
Satan's. His skin was very dark, but I thought
there was something of a sickly hue about it, as if
he had but recently risen from a sick bed; though
it was clear enough, from the strength of his appetite,
that his disease was now entirely banished.
He was a man of forty-five or more, and his hair
which was very long and bushy, and had been a jet
black, was now becoming grizzled and frosty.

It struck me, as I surveyed the gentleman, that I
had seen him before, and so, in the innocence of my
heart, I told him; adding, that I supposed it must
have been in former years, at my patron's house.
“Ay, ay,” he mumbled out of a corner of his mouth,
which was too full of provender to admit an easy
reply—“remember you well—a young, porpoisefaced
baboon: always told your father you'd bring
up at the gallows.”

“Sir,” said I, glad to escape the compliment,
“the Doctor is not my father; and you must mean
his son Tommy, who was drowned five years ago.”

To this all that Mr. Bloodmoney deigned to reply
was—“Was he, d— him?” his further expressions
of sympathy being cut short by a mouthful of
oysters.

Having finished his supper, and swallowed a
tumbler of wine, to fortify the ale which he had previously
got rid of, he looked up and honoured me with a
stare, which was first severe, then wild—or so
I thought it, for it seemed to express inquiry mingled
with astonishment—and then became placid
and pleasant; and in this frame he continued looking
me in the face for a minute or more; and then, bursting
into a sudden and furious fit of laughter, exclaimed,
as soon as the convulsion was over, “And
so you were drowned five years ago, split me?”

“No, sir,” said I, perceiving the gentleman had
been in a reverie, and was not yet well out of it;
“it was my friend Tommy.”

“Oh, ay! what was I thinking of!” cried he, with
another peal, which having indulged, he produced
and read aloud my patron's letter; in which Mr.
Bloodmoney was entreated to send me to sea as
soon as possible, and to draw upon him for any sum
necessary for my outfit, the amount inclosed (which,
I believe, was a hundred dollars,) being all that the
hurry of the occasion enabled him to despatch with
me. “Talks like a ship's pig!” grumbled the gentleman,
by way of comment; “ought to have sent
five hundred or a thousand; and might, just as easy
as not. Here, you, shipmate,” he added, addressing
me, “you Timothy Howell, or what's your name
—”

“My name,” said I, “is Robin Day.”

“Very well—you Robin Day: write home to my
cousin Howell—What's his name? Howard, split
me! I could never bear it in mind two glasses at a
time, because how, Howell—What's his name? Howard, split
me! I could never bear it in mind two glasses at a
time, because how, Howell comes more natural:
write home, curse me, and tell him to send you all
the money he can raise, d'ye see, from five hundred
up—the more the better.”

“Sure,” said I, “I thought it would not take so
much to fit me out!”

“To fit out a cook's mate, or a powder-monkey,”
said Mr. Bloodmoney, with an air of disdain, “or,
mayhap, a runt of a midshipman, with a head all ratlicked.
Hark you, my skilligallee, you've sunk a
schoolmaster: it's a sign of blood, and I like you;
for I did the same thing in my young days, only
that I blew the dog up with gunpowder, and left
him as blind as a barnacle for life. Get the money,
split me, and I'll make a man of you, and bring
you home with a swab on your shoulder, and a
whole ship-load of prize money. 'Pon my soul
and conscience, split me, I'll make you a lieutenant,
and take you into the cabin with me.”

I was surprised to hear him talk thus, and told him
I had no idea he ever commanded any of his vessels
himself. “Brought up to it,” said the gentleman,
who seemed to be a little flustered with the wine,
which had vanished as fast as the ale; “began a boy
before the mast, and learned to smell fire with them
that knew how to teach me—I did, split me. I
won't say nothing; but I say, my lark, you've heard
of Captain Hellcat?” I was obliged to inform him,
I had not; at which he seemed both surprised and
offended, assuring me that Captain Hellcat was the
greatest man that ever boarded an enemy, and I
nothing more than a green gosling that knew not so
much as whether my nose pointed north or south
of a Sunday: in fact, upon reflection, I found that I
had heard of some such worthy, as I now confessed,
but said I believed he was a pirate. This Mr.
Bloodmoney very readily admitted, but swore he
was an honest fellow for all, and a brave one; and
seemed to intimate, as far as I could understand his
language, which was frequently too nautical for my

comprehension, that he had acquired a portion of
his naval art under that honest commander, could
navigate and fight a ship as well as any body, and
would go to sea, if he felt in the humour, he would,
split him.

With that, he ate an ounce or two of cabbage, as
he said, to lay the liquor: asked me where I put up,
and being told, commended my prudence in avoiding
the public hotels; bade me write for more money,
and keep myself in quiet, till I received it;
assured me I should hear from him; and ended by
knocking for a waiter, asking what was the reckoning,
and bidding me pay it; which having directed,
and, truly, it was directed with all coolness and equanimity,
he walked out of the room and the house,
leaving me astounded at the oddness of his character.

I paid the bill, as directed; though I did not think
Mr. Bloodmoney showed either hospitality or good
breeding in making me do so, and still less in not
having once invited me to his house, nor even offered
me protection from the inveteracy of my
pursuers.

On the whole, I was greatly disappointed in the
gentleman, and felt so little inclination to take a
voyage with him, or with any captain in his employ,
that I was now resolved, provided I might by any
happy chance light upon Dicky Dare, to unite my
fortunes with his, turn soldier with him, and trust
to the eloquence of the representation I should make,
to obtain forgiveness of my patron.

While pondering thus, returning to my lodgings,
on Dicky Dare, and debating what steps I could
most safely take to discover him, provided he had,
like me, escaped the wagoners, I found myself in
front of a theatre; and remembering that Dicky had

expressed on the road a great desire to rest in Philadelphia
for a few days, were it only for the sake
of visiting these temples of Thespis, I bought me
a ticket and entered, in the hope that I might light
upon my lost friend within. I had, I must confess,
some fear lest I should stumble upon a less desirable
acquaintance, perhaps a New Jersey constable, with
a warrant for my apprehension in his hand; but the
wine I had swallowed gave me courage, and I was
too anxious to find my comrade, not to be willing
to encounter a little risk. My fears, however, returned
when I found myself in the house, exposed
to a blaze of lamps, and to the eyes of a countless
number of gaily dressed people, all of whom I
thought were looking at me; in consequence of
which, I retreated for safety to the darkest corner
of the remotest box, where I lay perdu during the
whole of the representation, of which I heard but
little and saw less; for, in fact, I had no sooner recovered
from my fears, than I fell sound asleep,
being very weary and heavy, and so remained to
the end of the afterpiece; when I was waked by the
noise of the audience getting up and leaving the
house. I departed with them, and was surprised,
while making my way to my lodgings, to hear the
clocks striking midnight.