University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.
In which Mr. Bloodmoney gives Robin his supper, and tells him
several astonishing secrets.

Having advised me to use my tongue as aforesaid,
and laughed at his own facetiousness, Mr.
Bloodmoney swore he would make a voyage of exploration
over the house, in search of the proper
materials for a supper; and that he might do this
with less fear of disturbing his lady, he pulled off
his boots, that were somewhat of the heaviest, and,
being also, as he said, water-logged, made a gurgling
noise, at every step, which he himself compared to
the “gasp of a drowning tomcat.” This being done,
and not without my assistance, which he demanded
without any ceremony, he sallied forth in his stocking-feet,
with a candle, bidding me keep quiet till
he returned.

I kept quiet as he directed, sitting by the fire, indulging
in speculations on his character, and wondering
whether its singularity and coarseness were
shared by any of the members of his family—supposing
he had one; which, I thought, might be inferred
from his remark about the seven squalling
children. Supposing his wife, however, were his
only companion, I had soon good evidence, as I
esteemed it, of her being a very different sort of
personage from her lord; for, besides a magnificent

piano, that stood against the wall, and a guitar lying
upon it, I perceived, upon getting up to look about me,
an equally magnificent harp standing, half covered, in
a corner, with a music-stand, and books scattered in
some disorder around it. The sight of the harp filled
my eyes with tears; for it reminded me of Nanna, who
had learned to play upon that instrument, and brought
to my memory the days of happiness I had enjoyed in
her father's house, days which I was, perhaps, never
to know again.

I turned away from it, that I might conquer my
agitation before Mr. Bloodmoney's return; and then
betook me to the pictures, which I surveyed with
much interest, having always had a passionate regard
for the painter's art. Some of these appeared to
me very ancient and excellent, being religious
pieces, representations of Madonnas and Saints, and
scenes of crucifixion and martyrdom, that awoke
sad and painful emotions in my breast.

Besides these, there were several portraits; of
which two, hanging as pendants, occupied conspicuous
places on the wall, representing, the one a
female, not very young or handsome, but amiable
looking; the other, a gentleman advanced in life,
but of a vigorous frame, stern, and somewhat sinister
countenance, and with powdered hair.

Another, that hung in the corner above the harp,
interested me more, both because it was a better
painting, as I could perceive, notwithstanding it
had but an insufficient light, and because there was
something at once striking and noble in the visage.
It was also the portrait of a gentleman, though much
younger than the other, in some foreign costume,
rich and picturesque; his countenance very handsome,
but swarthy, with long black hair falling upon
his shoulders; and round his neck a string of black

beads, that, I thought, looked pretty much like my
own, only that there was suspended to it a rich
golden cross, with a cluster of jewels at the ends of
each arm, and another at the point of intersection.
But what struck me more than the richness of dress
and decorations, or the beauty of the countenance,
was an air of uncommon gloom and dejection that
sat upon every feature, expressing a tale of suffering
that wrought upon my feelings and awakened my
curiosity; and Mr. Bloodmoney returning about
this time, with a huge load of eatables and other
things he had gathered up, I directed his attention
to the picture, begging to know who it was it represented.
He cast his eye indifferently towards it,
but his countenance suffered a change the moment
he regarded it: he seemed, indeed, perturbed and
confounded, gazed upon it with a sort of wildness
for an instant, and then turned hastily away, bidding
me “mind my own business, and be curst;” though
he presently added, as if ashamed of his roughness,
“that it was an old friend of his who had
gone to Davy Jones long ago;” with which gracious
information I was obliged to rest satisfied.

He now spread upon the board the spoils collected
in his expedition, (which, he declared, he had conducted
without disturbing so much as a cat or a
mouse,) consisting of cold meats and fowls, pastry,
sweetmeats, and I know not what beside; but there
was enough to feed a regiment, as well as an astonishing
quantity of plate—spoons, forks, goblets,
salvers, &c., his bringing which and spreading it on
the table, where it made a rich and tempting, but
useless show, I could only account for by supposing
he desired to amaze and confound me with the evidences
of his boundless wealth—a supposition that
appeared to me natural enough of a man whose conversation

indicated so vulgar, and doubtless so poor
an origin; and which was, moreover, confirmed by
his openly soliciting my admiration to his treasure,
asking me if it was not a “cargo for a Spanish galleon?”
“an invoice worth a Jew's eye?” with other
like expressions.

Having arranged it to his mind, he now sat down
to eat and drink, bidding me do the same; and out
of the various cold bits he had collected, we made a
very good supper together—Mr. Bloodmoney in
particular, who ate with a vigour that would have surprised
me, had not the energy with which he attacked
the potables absorbed all my attention. One bottle
of wine he despatched at a gulp, without taking
the trouble to pour it out; a second he attacked with
like fury but was obliged to breathe in the middle of
the draught, and when he had cracked off the neck
of a third, which he did with a knife, as if slicing
off the head of an enemy, his zeal was so much abated
that he was content to drink, as he said, “in the
genteel way,” that is, by pouring the wine into a tumbler;
for he professed too great a contempt of wineglasses
to condescend to such small ware.

Having arrived at this point of moderation, I could
not observe that his energies suffered any further
abatement; or that his draughts declined either in
quantity or frequency. In short, Mr. Bloodmoney,
as he freely confessed, loved his glass, particularly,
as he added, in foul weather, when the soaking of
the inner man was the only way to prevent the saturation
of the outer; “for how,” quoth he, ingeniously,
“can water get into a barrel that's already full of
better liquor?”

Upon this principle he drank, and with a very
visible effect on his heart and spirits, the one growing
warm and loving, the other facetious and boisterous;

so that he, by and by, fell to stretching across the
table, to shake hands with me, in a manner the most
ardent in the world, swearing he loved me, “for all
of my nose being too big for my eyes,” (an expression
which, although it was a riddle to me then, I
suppose was meant to convey the idea, that it was
so big—metaphorically speaking—as to prevent my
seeing beyond it,) and finally to trolling a sea song,
which he began to sing so loudly that I was forced
to remind him of the tender state of Mrs. Bloodmoney's
nerves; whereupon he declared he had forgot
himself, and declared it with an oath thrice as
loud as the song.

In a word, the gentleman was becoming merry;
of which he gave a new and stronger proof every
moment, being guilty of a thousand absurdities of
speech and action, that are not necessary to be recorded,
except in so far as they had a bearing upon
my own interests. One of his pranks was to cram
my knapsack with the valuables he had collected
together; and, as he prefaced this step by embracing
me, and swearing, as he was now accustomed to do
every half minute, that he intended to make my fortune,
I thought, upon my conscience, he meant to
make me a present of the whole collection; and was
amazed at the extravagance of his folly. He then
clapped the sack upon the table, swore he was once
the best sailor that ever trode a plank, declared I
should be his first lieutenant, and asked me if I ever
had heard of Captain Hellcat? and upon my reminding
him he had spoken of that worthy at the
little inn, he averred, with great volubility, and in
one breath, that the said Captain was a very honest
fellow, and the biggest villain the earth had ever
produced; and this very wise and consistent assertion

he concluded by acquainting me, in a fit of great
communicativeness, that Captain Hellcat—or Brown,
for this, it appeared was his real appellation, the former
being a mere nickname—was in Philadelphia,
and had made application for the command of the
privateer, the Lovely Nancy.

At this information I was both surprised and
alarmed—surprised, as I told Mr. Bloodmoney, that
any such piratical villain should dare show himself
among honest men in a great city, not to speak of
his audacity in asking command of an honest man's
ship; and alarmed, as I also freely confessed, at the
possibility of my being sent to sea under charge of
such a commander. To this Mr. Bloodmoney made
answer, first, by particularizing my eyes in his customary
way, and bidding me not abuse a better man
than myself, and then by referring in the same way
to his own, and asking if I thought him such a horse
as to trust a ship in the hands of such a desperado,
who might run away with her, the moment it suited
his interests—not he, split him. “No,” said he,
“I'm no such gudgeon, but a deep-water fish, fin,
head and tail, as you'll find me. And yet I would
I could trust the Lovely Nancy in the dog's hands,
for I'll be hanged if there's his equal, could one
but depend upon his honour and honesty, in all creation.
Sails a ship like an angel—storm and shine,
blow or no blow, all's one to Jack Brown; and fights,
ah, split me, where's his match at a fight? fights like
a hell-cat, and there's the name of him. An honest
fellow, split me! made me a power of money: as
how? Why, by fishing for niggers on the Gold
Coast, and stray Spaniards on the Gulf, et cetera,
as the learned folk say. But that's neither here nor
there. Bad luck's the lot of the best: even Davy

Jones gets a snub, sometimes, when the parsons
chouse him out of a dying sinner: and so Jack came
to misfortune; and them that were his old friends
turn up their noses at him, especially us that live in
big houses and have made our fortunes by him—we
do, split me. Well, Jack comes to me, and says he,
`I'm an honest man now, and go for fighting the
foes of my country: give me the Lovely Nancy, and
I'll sweep the Irish Channel.' I liked the idea, split
me; for, no doubt, there was good picking there, and
nobody to interfere: for d'ye see, John Bull would
never think of clapping a guard at his parlour door.
But, nevertheless, d'ye see, I meant the ship for the
Gulf and the West Indies, having business of my
own there; and so said I, Jack, I can't trust you with
a ship, for you'll run away with her. Then Jack
d—d his eyes and talked of his honour; but I told
him that was all old junk and oakum; for unless he
could find some one to stand security for his good
behaviour, or raise a pledge that would nail him to
the same, he should whistle for the Lovely Nancy,
he should, split him. And now, d'ye see, here's the
case: Jack's as mad as fire, because of my scorning
his honour; and he's mad for the Lovely Nancy, for
she's a beauty; and he's mad to raise a pledge, because
he can't get a ship without it. And what do
you think he'll do? Why, I'll be hanged, if I know:
only I should n't wonder if he should rob me, the
rascal—break my house, carry off my plate and what
else he can lay hands on, and so make a pledge for
his good faith with my own money! I should n't,
split me, for it's in the rascal, it is, split me!”

With that, Mr. Bloodmoney, seizing upon my
knapsack, and clapping a few more articles of plate
into it, informed me, with a look of unutterable sagacity,
that he was going to balk the rascal, by removing

every valuable from the house, and depositing
them for safe-keeping in the lockers of the
Lovely Nancy herself;—nay, so urgent appeared to
him the necessity of such a transfer, of making it
that very night; “for who” said he, “can tell how
soon Hellcat may be down upon me?”