University of Virginia Library

44. CHAPTER XLIV.

It was the day following my Sunday stroll into the
country, and when I had been in England four weeks or
more, that I made the acquaintance of a handsome, accomplished,
but unfortunate youth, young Harry Bolton. He
was one of those small, but perfectly formed beings, with
curling hair, and silken muscles, who seem to have been
born in cocoons. His complexion was a mantling brunette,
feminine as a girl's; his feet were small; his hands were
white; and his eyes were large, black, and womanly; and,
poetry aside, his voice was as the sound of a harp.

But where, among the tarry docks, and smoky sailor-lanes
and by-ways of a seaport, did I, a battered Yankee boy,
encounter this courtly youth?

Several evenings I had noticed him in our street of boarding-houses,
standing in the doorways, and silently regarding
the animated scenes without. His beauty, dress, and manner
struck me as so out of place in such a street, that I
could not possibly divine what had transplanted this delicate
exotic from the conservatories of some Regent-street to the
untidy potato-patches of Liverpool.

At last I suddenly encountered him at the sign of the
Baltimore Clipper. He was speaking to one of my ship-mates
concerning America; and from something that dropped,
I was led to imagine that he contemplated a voyage to my
country. Charmed with his appearance, and all eagerness
to enjoy the society of this incontrovertible son of a gentleman—a
kind of pleasure so long debarred me—I smoothed

down the skirts of my jacket, and at once accosted him;
declaring who I was, and that nothing would afford me
greater delight than to be of the least service, in imparting
any information concerning America that he needed.

He glanced from my face to my jacket, and from my
jacket to my face, and at length, with a pleased but somewhat
puzzled expression, begged me to accompany him on a
walk.

We rambled about St. George's Pier until nearly midnight;
but before we parted, with uncommon frankness, he
told me many strange things respecting his history.

According to his own account, Harry Bolton was a native
of Bury St. Edmunds, a borough in Suffolk, not very far
from London, where he was early left an orphan, under the
charge of an only aunt. Between his aunt and himself, his
mother had divided her fortune; and young Harry thus fell
heir to a portion of about five thousand pounds.

Being of a roving mind, as he approached his majority he
grew restless of the retirement of a country place; especially
as he had no profession or business of any kind to engage
his attention.

In vain did Bury, with all its fine old monastic attractions,
lure him to abide on the beautiful banks of her Larke,
and under the shadow of her stately and storied old Saxon
tower.

By all my rare old historic associations, breathed Bury;
by my Abbey-gate, that bears to this day the arms of
Edward the Confessor; by my carved roof of the old church
of St. Mary's, which escaped the low rage of the bigoted
Puritans; by the royal ashes of Mary Tudor, that sleep in
my midst; by my Norman ruins, and by all the old abbots
of Bury, do not, oh Harry! abandon me. Where will you
find shadier walks than under my lime-trees? where lovelier
gardens than those within the old walls of my monastery,
approached through my lordly Gate? Or if, oh Harry!
indifferent to my historic mosses, and caring not for my

annual verdure, thou must needs be lured by other tassels,
and wouldst fain, like the Prodigal, squander thy patrimony,
then, go not away from old Bury to do it. For here, on
Angel-Hill, are my coffee and card-rooms, and billiard saloons,
where you may lounge away your mornings, and empty your
glass and your purse as you list.

In vain. Bury was no place for the adventurous Harry,
who must needs hie to London, where in one winter, in the
company of gambling sportsmen and dandies, he lost his last
sovereign.

What now was to be done? His friends made interest for
him in the requisite quarters, and Harry was soon embarked
for Bombay, as a midshipman in the East India service; in
which office he was known as a “guinea-pig,” a humorous
appellation then bestowed upon the middies of the Company.
And considering the perversity of his behavior, his delicate
form, and soft complexion, and that gold guineas had been
his bane, this appellation was not altogether, in poor Harry's
case, inapplicable.

He made one voyage, and returned; another, and returned;
and then threw up his warrant in disgust. A few weeks'
dissipation in London, and again his purse was almost drained;
when, like many prodigals, scorning to return home to his
aunt, and amend—though she had often written him the
kindest of letters to that effect—Harry resolved to precipitate
himself upon the New World, and there carve out a fresh
fortune.

With this object in view, he packed his trunks, and took
the first train for Liverpool. Arrived in that town, he at
once betook himself to the docks, to examine the American
shipping, when a new crotchet entered his brain, born of his
old sea reminiscences. It was to assume duck trowsers and
tarpaulin, and gallantly cross the Atlantic as a sailor. There
was a dash of romance in it; a taking abandonment; and
a scorn of fine coats, which exactly harmonized with his
reckless contempt, at the time, for all past conventionalities.

Thus determined, he exchanged his trunk for a mahogany
chest; sold some of his superfluities; and moved his quarters
to the sign of the Gold Anchor in Union-street.

After making his acquaintance, and learning his intentions,
I was all anxiety that Harry should accompany me home
in the Highlander, a desire to which he warmly responded.

Nor was I without strong hopes that he would succeed
in an application to the captain; inasmuch as during our
stay in the docks, three of our crew had left us, and their
places would remain unsupplied till just upon the eve of our
departure.

And here, it may as well be related, that owing to the
heavy charges to which the American ships long staying in
Liverpool are subjected, from the obligation to continue the
wages of their seamen, when they have little or no work to
employ them, and from the necessity of boarding them ashore,
like lords, at their leisure, captains interested in the ownership
of their vessels, are not at all indisposed to let their
sailors abscond, if they please, and thus forfeit their money;
for they well know that, when wanted, a new crew is easily
to be procured, through the crimps of the port.

Though he spake English with fluency, and from his long
service in the vessels of New York, was almost an American
to behold, yet Captain Riga was in fact a Russian by birth,
though this was a fact that he strove to conceal. And
though extravagant in his personal expenses, and even indulging
in luxurious habits, costly as Oriental dissipation,
yet Captain Riga was a niggard to others; as, indeed, was
evinced in the magnificent stipend of three dollars, with which
he requited my own valuable services. Therefore, as it was
agreed between Harry and me, that he should offer to ship
as a “boy,” at the same rate of compensation with myself,
I made no doubt that, incited by the cheapness of the bargain,
Captain Riga would gladly close with him; and thus,
instead of paying sixteen dollars a month to a thorough-going
tar, who would consume all his rations, buy up my young

blade of Bury, at the rate of half a dollar a week; with the
cheering prospect, that by the end of the voyage, his fastidious
palate would be the means of leaving a handsome balance
of salt beef and pork in the harness-cask.

With part of the money obtained by the sale of a few of
his velvet vests, Harry, by my advice, now rigged himself
in a Guernsey frock and man-of-war trowsers; and thus
equipped, he made his appearance, one fine morning, on the
quarter-deck of the Highlander, gallantly doffing his virgin
tarpaulin before the redoubtable Riga.

No sooner were his wishes made known, than I perceived
in the captain's face that same bland, benevolent, and bewitchingly
merry expression, that had so charmed, but
deceived me, when, with Mr. Jones, I had first accosted
him in the cabin.

Alas, Harry! though I,—as I stood upon the forecastle
looking astern where they stood,—that “gallant, gay deceiver”
shall not altogether cajole you, if Wellingborough
can help it. Rather than that should be the case, indeed,
I would forfeit the pleasure of your society across the Atlantic.

At this interesting interview the captain expressed a sympathetic
concern touching the sad necessities, which he took
upon himself to presume must have driven Harry to sea; he
confessed to a warm interest in his future welfare; and did
not hesitate to declare that, in going to America, under such
circumstances, to seek his fortune, he was acting a manly
and spirited part; and that the voyage thither, as a sailor,
would be an invigorating preparative to the landing upon a
shore, where he must battle out his fortune with Fate.

He engaged him at once; but was sorry to say, that he
could not provide him a home on board till the day previous
to the sailing of the ship; and during the interval, he could
not honor any drafts upon the strength of his wages.

However, glad enough to conclude the agreement upon
any terms at all, my young blade of Bury expressed his satisfaction;

and full of admiration at so urbane and gentlemanly
a sea-captain, he came forward to receive my congratulations.

“Harry,” said I, “be not deceived by the fascinating
Riga—that gay Lothario of all inexperienced, sea-going
youths, from the capital or the country; he has a Janusface,
Harry; and you will not know him when he gets you
out of sight of land, and mounts his cast-off coats and
trowsers. For then he is another personage altogether, and
adjusts his character to the shabbiness of his integuments.
No more condolings and sympathy then; no more blarney;
he will hold you a little better than his boots, and would
no more think of addressing you than of invoking wooden
Donald, the figure-head on our bows.”

And I further admonished my friend concerning our crew,
particularly of the diabolical Jackson, and warned him to be
cautious and wary. I told him, that unless he was somewhat
accustomed to the rigging, and could furl a royal in a
squall, he would be sure to subject himself to a sort of treatment
from the sailors, in the last degree ignominious to any
mortal who had ever crossed his legs under mahogany.

And I played the inquisitor, in cross-questioning Harry
respecting the precise degree in which he was a practical
sailor;—whether he had a giddy head; whether his arms
could bear the weight of his body; whether, with but one
hand on a shroud, a hundred feet aloft in a tempest, he felt
he could look right to windward and beard it.

To all this, and much more, Harry rejoined with the
most off-hand and confident air; saying that in his “guinea-pig”
days, he had often climbed the masts and handled the
sails in a gentlemanly and amateur way; so he made no
doubt that he would very soon prove an expert tumbler in
the Highlander's rigging.

His levity of manner, and sanguine assurance, coupled
with the constant sight of his most unseamanlike person—
more suited to the Queen's drawing-room than a ship's forecastle—bred

many misgivings in my mind. But after all,
every one in this world has his own fate intrusted to himself;
and though we may warn, and forewarn, and give
sage advice, and indulge in many apprehensions touching
our friends; yet our friends, for the most part, will “gang
their ain gate;” and the most we can do is, to hope for
the best. Still, I suggested to Harry, whether he had not
best cross the sea as a steerage passenger, since he could
procure enough money for that; but no, he was bent upon
going as a sailor.

I now had a comrade in my afternoon strolls, and Sunday
excursions; and as Harry was a generous fellow, he
shared with me his purse and his heart. He sold off several
more of his fine vests and trowsers, his silver-keyed
flute and enameled guitar; and a portion of the money
thus furnished was pleasantly spent in refreshing ourselves
at the road-side inns in the vicinity of the town.

Reclining side by side in some agreeable nook, we exchanged
our experiences of the past. Harry enlarged upon
the fascinations of a London life; described the curricle he
used to drive in Hyde Park; gave me the measurement of
Madame Vestris' ankle; alluded to his first introduction at
a club to the madcap Marquis of Waterford; told over the
sums he had lost upon the turf on a Derby day; and made
various but enigmatical allusions to a certain Lady Georgiana
Theresa, the noble daughter of an anonymous earl.

Even in conversation, Harry was a prodigal; squandering
his aristocratic narrations with a careless hand; and, perhaps,
sometimes spending funds of reminiscences not his own.

As for me, I had only my poor old uncle the senator to
fall back upon; and I used him upon all emergencies, like
the knight in the game of chess; making him hop about,
and stand stifly up to the encounter, against all my fine
comrade's array of dukes, lords, curricles, and countesses.

In these long talks of ours, I frequently expressed the
earnest desire I cherished, to make a visit to London; and

related how strongly tempted I had been one Sunday, to
walk the whole way, without a penny in my pocket. To
this, Harry rejoined, that nothing would delight him more,
than to show me the capital; and he even meaningly but
mysteriously hinted at the possibility of his doing so, before
many days had passed. But this seemed so idle a thought,
that I only imputed it to my friend's good-natured, rattling
disposition, which sometimes prompted him to out with any
thing, that he thought would be agreeable. Besides, would
this fine blade of Bury be seen, by his aristocratic acquaintances,
walking down Oxford-street, say, arm in arm with
the sleeve of my shooting-jacket? The thing was preposterous;
and I began to think, that Harry, after all, was a
little bit disposed to impose upon my Yankee credulity.

Luckily, my Bury blade had no acquaintance in Liverpool,
where, indeed, he was as much in a foreign land, as if
he were already on the shores of Lake Erie; so that he
strolled about with me in perfect abandonment; reckless of
the cut of my shooting-jacket; and not caring one whit who
might stare at so singular a couple.

But once, crossing a square, faced on one side by a fashionable
hotel, he made a rapid turn with me round a corner;
and never stopped, till the square was a good block in our
rear. The cause of this sudden retreat, was a remarkably
elegant coat and pantaloons, standing upright on the hotel
steps, and containing a young buck, tapping his teeth with
an ivory-headed riding-whip.

“Who was he, Harry?” said I.

“My old chum, Lord Lovely,” said Harry, with a careless
air, “and Heaven only knows what brings Lovely from
London.”

“A lord?” said I, starting; “then I must look at him
again;” for lords are very scarce in Liverpool.

Unmindful of my companion's remonstrances, I ran back
to the corner; and slowly promenaded past the upright coat
and pantaloons on the steps

It was not much of a lord to behold; very thin and
limber about the legs, with small feet like a doll's, and a
small, glossy head like a seal's. I had seen just such looking
lords standing in sentimental attitudes in front of Palmo's
in Broadway.

However, he and I being mutual friends of Harry's, I
thought something of accosting him, and taking counsel
concerning what was best to be done for the young prodigal's
welfare; but upon second thoughts I thought best not to intrude;
especially, as just then my lord Lovely stepped to
the open window of a flashing carriage which drew up;
and throwing himself into an interesting posture, with the
sole of one boot vertically exposed, so as to show the stamp
on it—a coronet—fell into a sparkling conversation with a
magnificent white satin hat, surmounted by a regal marabout
feather, inside.

I doubted not, this lady was nothing short of a peeress;
and thought it would be one of the pleasantest and most
charming things in the world, just to seat myself beside her,
and order the coachman to take us a drive into the country.

But, as upon further consideration, I imagined that the
peeress might decline the honor of my company, since I had
no formal card of introduction; I marched on, and rejoined
my companion, whom I at once endeavored to draw out,
touching Lord Lovely; but he only made mysterious answers;
and turned off the conversation, by allusions to his
visits to Ickworth in Suffolk, the magnificent seat of the
Most Noble Marquis of Bristol, who had repeatedly assured
Harry that he might consider Ickworth his home.

Now, all these accounts of marquises and Ickworths, and
Harry's having been hand in glove with so many lords and
ladies, began to breed some suspicions concerning the rigid
morality of my friend, as a teller of the truth. But, after
all, thought I to myself, who can prove that Harry has
fibbed? Certainly, his manners are polished, he has a
mighty easy address; and there is nothing altogether impossible

about his having consorted with the master of Ickworth,
and the daughter of the anonymous earl. And what right
has a poor Yankee, like me, to insinuate the slightest suspicion
against what he says? What little money he has,
he spends freely; he can not be a polite blackleg, for I am
no pigeon to pluck; so that is out of the question;—perish
such a thought, concerning my own bosom friend!

But though I drowned all my suspicions as well as I
could, and ever cherished toward Harry a heart, loving and
true; yet, spite of all this, I never could entirely digest some
of his imperial reminiscences of high life. I was very sorry
for this; as at times it made me feel ill at ease in his company;
and made me hold back my whole soul from him;
when, in its loneliness, it was yearning to throw itself into
the unbounded bosom of some immaculate friend.