 | CHAPTER VI. The Down-easters, &c. &c.
&c. |  |
6. CHAPTER VI.
I say tho' Mr. Potipher, thats a plaguy neat lookin'
watch o' yourn 'ti seed ye have; I should like to heft
it, if you've no objection—I put my watch into his
hand, without a word of remark—I wonder now if
you'd mind my seein' how'ts put together?—over-hauling
it and hefting it between every two words,
ransacking it inside and out, seal, chain, clasp and
guard, but so cautiously and so skilfully as to show
that I had nothing to fear. That he might proceed
with the investigation more at his leisure, he off coat,
rolled up his shirt-sleaves, loosened his shirt-collar,
and put away his old hat with a deal of superfluous
care, and actually dropped upon his `heads antipodes'
while the boat was plunging through a heavy sea,
much to the amusement of the fair Elizabeth, who
had been clinging to the rail ever since the departure
of Middleton, with desperate strength, and looking
overboard with half-shut eyes and a quivering lip
growing paler and paler at every plunge.
After he had taken it apart and put it together
again—or adopting the definition of the other down-easter
about orthography—after he had spelt it, as
thoroughly as I would allow him—using only a tooth-pick
and a ninepenny whittler as he called the knife
he made use of—he shot the kiver and wiping the face
with his new bandanna as affectionately as a mother
would that of her youngest born after a somerset in a
duck-puddle—he seemed on the point of returning
the fingers involuntarily contracting over the treasure
—even while he kept saying, there she is frind!
there she is! take her, and never say 'tive hurt her,
hide or hair. How old is she?—not that I want you
or any body else on airth to tell me that; guess I
know by her click, about as well as any body, without
lookin' at her teeth—
Take care! said I, as he held her up, and swung
her round by the chain: the watch is at your risk—
if she flies off, you must pay for her!
I pay for her! What for? Wal, wal, I spose you
know more about the law 'an I do; dont seem to me
to be altogether fair shakes somehow for a feller to
have to pay jess as much for only lookin' at her
insides a minnit, as if he'd bought her right out—slap
dash—I'll leave it to ary one o' you if tis?
How much do ye offer? askes the Tennessee-youth,
who had been capering about hither and thither for
the last quarter of an hour, like a dislocated windmill
adrift—under an idea that a man six feet high was a
fool to be sea-sick—how much 'll ye give stranger?
And then without waiting for a reply, he added—You
may look at my insides for half the money! out
whittler if ye dare! And away he scampered with
both hands plastered over his mouth—paws I might
say, though he did'nt go on all fours—toward a place
where he told me afterwards he threw up his shoes
and stockings, a jacket lined with tripe (I give his
own language) and his commission, that of major in
the mounted militia, which he had torn to pieces and
swallowed the day before in a rage with his brigadier,
for saying twa'nt gentlemanly to spit on a
and wipe them on your pantaloons. And I'll
leave it to you, stranger! said he as he wound up the
story of his affront—if sich a feller as that's fit to be
a brigadier o' the mounted rangers? Taint more 'an
a month at the very outside, sense he turned out with
a new pocket-hank'cher for the fuss time—an'ts never
ben out of his hand sense, by Gawd! An' I up an'
told him so—right to his head—mister brigadier says
I, by the time you're a gineral right out, you'll have
a ruffled shirt o' your own says I, an' expect your
understrappers to wash their faces every campaign,
says I; an' eat buffaloe-punch with a knife an' fork,
says I—hourra! if I did'nt I wish I may be d—d!
Ruther a limpsy chain though, continued the down-easter
as soon as he had got his breath; watch putty
fair—best imitation I've seen since I dont know
when.
Imitation? said I.
Yes—pinchback.
Pinchbeck?
Yes—that what dye ye call 'em stuff, washed over
with gool leaf.
Pho, pho man—that is neither pinchback nor imitation.
Posserble! What is it then?
Gold—fine gold.
Maybe you'd like to wage somethin' o' that—man
enough aint ye to back your word with a trifle? pulling
out an old tattered wallet with what appeared to
be a large roll of paper money in it. Say the word,
if you dar'st—and we'll leave it out to the fuss man
comes along for jess what you like.
Pho, pho—nonsense; I'm no friend to wagers.
What I tell you is the truth, nevertheless.
Sneks an' spiders! you dont say so!—If the wind
cants in a little more 't the norrard the fog 'll scale off
I ruther guess; wherebouts are ye goin' to set now
marm?—I did'nt speak to you, mister; nor to you
nyther, marm—nary one o' ye; but to that pore little
gal there; she ought to have somethin' to take right
away and somethin' to hold on by too—ah, what's
that are book about? Leetle a more.
All these questions and remarks were uttered in
precisely the same tone of voice, now to one by-stander,
now to another; and then he took up a
volume—it was Walter Scott's Rokeby—Leetle o'
more, you'd a' lost it overboard—R. O. K—rok-E—
rokee—b. y. by—Rocke-eby—that's it, hey?—chock
full o' varse hey?
Precisely, said Gage—Rockeby baby on the tree-top!—humming
the old nursery air with his eye upon
Middleton, poor fellow! who sat near the little
quakeress, so altered and so pale—so deadly pale—
and so helpless, that much as he desired to continue a
conversation with her, which the down-easter had
interrupted, he could not—and after several attempts,
rising up, and opening his mouth, and clinging to the
rail within a few feet of her, anxious to betray a
proper sympathy for one so beautiful and so attractive,
he finished, by turning his back abruptly upon her,
and rushing to a distant part of the deck. I saw him
and pitied him—of all sickness, there is none so
selfish, so hateful and so prosaic, none so trying to a
first love, I do in my heart believe, as that of the sea—
magnificent shadows, and glad waters, and blue lustre,
and all that.
They were like strangers for a time, sitting so near
to each other all the while, that over and over again,
her beautiful hair swept over his very mouth and eyes,
and instead of thrilling at the touch, he never knew it—
nor did she! I pitied them both, and was happier
than either I verily believe, when they recovered so
far as to recognize one another, and smile and blush,
at their odd forgetfulness of propriety;—one of the
prettiest feet in the world having wandered away
from the modest drapery that clung to the instep and
shivered with every breath—and the slope of a perfect
shoulder, from which the plentiful gauze had been
lifted away by the sea-breeze, or the motion of the
boat, having some how or other found its way into
the open air on the side next the enamored youth—
whose cravat always negligently tied, was now
dropping like a shower of snow into his bosom—
while his black hair fell with a prodigious effect
about his pale face—I never saw a finer picture—
both were in love, deeply desperately in love. I
saw it in their eyes, I heard it in their breathing
— and I turned away.
Not pure goole tho' whatever you may say, neighbor,
continued the down-easter, following me as I
moved away; jewellers goole may be? or Attlebury-goole?
We make broches o' lead an pewter, at
most of ou tin-ware factories, and then give 'em a
lick o' goole leaf or copper-leaf—all the same in dry
weather—never seed a watch sarved so before to
day tho'.
Maybe, you've seen a chist o' draws washed over
with mahogany, hey?—or tin-ware put together with
shoe-maker's wax, said the man with the nose, dropping
into conversation here as naitral as could be—
If you haint, I have!
You dont say so!
Wal that's pooty nigh the truth for you—what if
you try agin!
Wal, if ever! fetching a long breath and pretending
to be overwhelmed with astonishment. Con'sarn
it all mister! anybody that takes you for a dumb fool
would'nt be very much mistaken, would they?
Not more 'an half as much as if they took you for
an honest man. Try agin, will ye! and off he
marched.
You shet your yop, an' mind your own business—
if you know when you're well off! said the the first
after the other was out of hearing And so mister
Potipher, as I was a sayin'—Peter I think you said:—
I've gut a neephew o' that name, all'ays a favoryte
name with me; smart feller as ever you come across
—lugging out a heavy silver watch, as he said this,
a genuine bull's-eye with a huge copper logging-chain,
a bell-metal face, and a bear-trap for a toy
dangling at the end of it; dropping his voice or
changing the subject whenever any body came
near—What an everlastin' spell o' weather we
have had! haint we?—a bit of a rogue he was
too, when he want more 'n knee high to a
bumbly-bee—
Jess what I should expect! said the other,
cutting in again as he passed by, and continuing
a sort of yaw, haw! till it was drowned by the
path.
Clear grit an' no grease I tell ye!—twirling the
great lubberly chain about his wrist, and leering at
me through a pair of eyebrows like swallow's nests.
Not much in names tho' arter all—may be? There
now!—jess look o' that air! There's a watch for
you! Thats what I call somethin' like! none o' them
pitch-pine bureaus jess slicked over with a wash o'
moggany not half so thick as your nail—that are
feller's ben talkin' about—wonder what he's good for
—all jaw like a sheep's head, while I'm allers right
up an down like a sheep's tail goin' over a wall—
why, neighbor, that air's about the beatemest watch
ever you see—ben a a-guyin' more'n sixty years right
off the reel—never stopped to wheeze, I tell ye! jess
look o' here now—see what a hell-fired noise it
makes!
He was right. Whenever he shook it, and held it
up to my ear, it made a noise like a coffee-mill. I
jumped when I first heard it, and he called out for me
not to be afraid.
Heft it, said he—heft it man; what are ye afeard
of? twunt hurt ye.
I took it up, and seeing Gage a little way off, began
heaving and weighing it with both hands.
Heavy agin as that o' yourn, ye see! capped an'
jewelled—and then, lowering his voice to a dry whisper,
he added, what'll ye give to boot?
Give! said I, in amazement.
Or take!
I laughed—I could bear it no longer—laughed till
my sides ached; and poor Elizabeth laughed too,
her head lay, with her luxuriant hair all abroad over
her disordered neck, he laughed, and all who heard
us, except that strange fellow—Nehemiah Gage—
or Atherton Gage, if I might believe the down-easter,
laughed with her.
But our swapper was not a man to be so easily
thrown out; and after a little rest, he began once
more in a still lower whisper, with his eye upon
Gage; and after saying, I want you should give me a
letter o' recommend to Pheladelphy, as I ruther guess
I shall go back that way, and I'll give you another to
Barnstable, or Boothbay, or most any where along
ashore—he wound up with, How'll you swap?
Swap!
That's it! ben out in no less 'an two wars aready—
heft it will ye? spry as ever yer see! another pause,
and another careful examination of my countenance
followed, as if he—the poor innocent—was afraid of
being cheated by me! we are pon honor, I hope?
I hope so, said I.
Fact is, I aint much of a sharper myself; and then
seeing the other down-easter approach, he lifted up
his head as if talking about some very indifferent
affair, and asked him if he could whittle agin the
wind.
The other, who had been whittling a bit of soft
pine for the last half hour, into forty successive
shapes—now rounding it into a spigot, and now into a
clothes' pin—now into a small spoon, and finally into
a miniature snuff-box with a moveable cover and a
perfect hinge, cut out of the solid wood, working his
penknife with consummate ease and swiftness, heaved
with a knowing look for a moment, he tipped me
a wink, as much as to say—didint I tell ye so! and
was walking off; when the other, not at all embarrassed
by the reproof, stopped him by saying, I
say, mister, let me see your knife a minnit!
Wal—there! said the other holding it up before his
eyes.
Pshaw! you know what I mean—I want to borry
it—holding out his hand—cant you let a feller see
the edge.
No—nor feel the pynt, without I keep hold o' the
handle; gut eyes in the eends o' your fingers hey?
and off he walked.
That air chap's no gentleman—I swan if he is!
aint fit to carry guts to a bear; howsomever as I said
afore; aint much of a sharper myself, and if we're
gwyin' to trade fair—
To trade fair—I dont understand you; who spoke
of trading?
Fair play's a jooel friend—hate a sharper as I do
pyz'n; a dicker's a dicker I allays concate, where
people's upon honor, but not where they aint; dont
care how close a feller is—closer an' button-wood-bark,
all the better for me, for I love to git away jist
by the skin o' my teeth—an' a leetle more.
I began to grow tired of this. Thank you for my
watch, said I; offering to return his at the same
time.
But he hesitated about receiving his own back, and
began looking about—perhaps to find a witness that
would prove a swap—saying as he did so, with more
and more earnestness and vivacity every moment,—
the swap—a bargain 's a bargain you know?—aint it
mister? to a foot passenger on his way to Baltimore.
I'll thank you for my watch, was my answer to
this.
My stars! Have it now, or wait till you can git it?
all honey an' hug a minnit ago; an' now! marsy on
us! what a change!
Give me the watch!
Why what a feeze you air in, to be sure!
Dont provoke me sir!
At a word then—how'll you swap?
No how—give me the watch I say.
Possable! Buy it of ye then—what 'll ye take?
I started to my feet, I dare say with no very amiable
expression of countenance, for I had grown
heartily tired of his pertinacity.
Buy or sell frind—all the same to me—what 'll ye
give? make us an offer, if ye dare!
At this moment a loud jarring bell, wheezing and
sounding far and wide over the agitated sea, interrupted
our talk; and up came the steward to say dinner
was ready. But I would not stir a step till I had
secured my watch. And the down-easter, who tried
to allay my fears by reminding me that he did'nt consider
the watch as altogether at his risk, would'nt
leave me till I agreed to a proposition which tickled
me prodigiously. And what do you think it was,
reader? Why nothing more nor less than for me to
leave the value of my superb repeater to be fixed by
a third person, and then to sell her at the price he
named!
As I live, I had half a mind to say yes, and refer the
me so faithfully, and warned me so frequently against
the tricks of this fellow.
But perhaps he suspected my design; for he added
in the same breath, as if to secure himself against
any misfortune of that nature—that instead of choosing
an umpire, we should take the first person that
came along, and then if I refused to sell, or if
he refused to buy, at the price mentioned, the
party falling back should treat or pay for three
dinners. By jove! said I to myself, but I'll fix him
so far as three dinners go—he richly deserves it—
and so under pretence of more fully understanding
the proposition, I repeated it after him, keeping my
eye upon the man with the nose, then evidently preparing
to follow the others to dinner—and finished
just at the critical moment, to secure him as the first
person that came along. Already had he grasped the
mahogany railing—a moment more, and he would
have disappeared down the companion-way. Such
an opportunity for revenge was not to be let slip,
and I insisted on the very letter of our contract.
My antagonist demurred for a moment, and there was
a something in his eye, which at any other time would
have induced me to relent.
Wal, said he, if it must be so, it must I 'spose—
though I should'nt think twould be any put-out to
you to take somebody else; and then he gave up,
though with evident unwillingness, and a peculiar
twitch of the mouth and sparkle of the eye that
delighted me exceedingly at the time—though not so
much afterwards; and we called the man to us, and
I stated the question—chuckling at the bare idea of
and so handsomely too!
Why! said the umpire, whose hurry to get away
augmented in exact proportion to the noise below—a
noise like nothing I had ever before, asleep or awake
—a country-tavern election day, or a crockery-ware
shop running off at the heels of wild-horses, or
another Brummagem got loose and breaking up for a
voyage over sea, with steam-engines to match—these
and these only occur to me as even tolerable types of
the uproar that followed, growing louder and louder
every moment, till we could hardly hear ourselves
speak—Why—a—a—standing first on one leg and
then on the other—if you're both agreed.
We assured him we were, and my companion,
began to look so sheepish—you've no idea how
diverted I felt, though as the venerable quaker afterwards
assured me, I kept my countenance to a charm,
all things considered. N. B. I never forgave him for
the remark.
Why, continued the umpire—twisting the watch-chain
about his fingers and hefting the whole concern
as he called it—and weighing the whole matter so
conscientiously—upon my word, I have no patience
with myself, when I think of his unmatchable coolness
or of my own self-satisfied stupidity—why to tell ye
the truth mister; you're both strangers to me—I'm
no great judge o' these ere kind o' jimcracks—fair
tradin's gut to be putty pore business now, an' fair
traders terrible skase—most every body jockies for
themselves now—feller cant cut his own fodder, if he
dont shave tarnation close, I tell ye! which its my
opinion, an' you may let it go for jess whats worth an'
gool as you say—and may be not: whereupon—
shifting his leg and interchanging a glance with the
old quaker, who bit his lip and looked at me—whereupon,
as I said afore, considerin' how turrible thick
you've ben all the parsage, notwithstandin' all I could
say—could'nt tell which was which five minutes ago,
you sot so close together—hitching up his mouth till
there was only one side to it, as if astonished at the
clearness of his own exposition—A-a-a its my best
judgment frinds—never good for much though, as I
said afore—that somewhere about fifteen dollars—or
fifteen-fifty—or say fifteen-seventy-five, at the very
outside, weighing the watch again with a grave
thoughtful air as he concluded the decree—would be
about the fair valley on't these times, an' pesky hard
times they air too, I tell ye! Judge of my amazement!
Why sir said I, laughing in spite of my vexation at
the ridiculous figure I cut, between such a pair of
thorough-bred sharpers—only consider; fifteen dollars
or fifteen-fifty, or fifteen seventy-five, at the very outside
as you say—upon my word, the little amethyst
you see there, the smallest seal of the whole bunch,
cost me double the money!
Dare say! cant help that tho'; dont pertend to be
much of a judge—both strangers to me, as I said
before.
Very well, said I, though I longed to remind him
of what he had said of the other, some three hours
earlier in the day—when he knew him of old—Very
well! lifting my foot with an emphasis which diverted
the old quaker prodigiously, and the young quakeress
mouth below the handkerchief that she held up to it,
and beginning to descend the stairs—very well—
I am satisfied.
What!—hey!—satisfied!—you aint though, air
ye! cried both together, struck all of a heap it seemed
to me. Taint posserble! cried the umpire. Why!
....! cried the swapper; and there I left them
staring at one another as if thunderstruck. Their
first idea undoubtedly was, that instead of jockeying
me, as they termed it, they were handsomely jockied
themselves, perhaps with something inferior to pinchback
or bell-metal.
Yes, I repeated, yes my good sir, satisfied—so far
as to—making a full stop to enjoy their perplexity—
so far as to—we were interrupted again just here.
Mind though! cried the umpire, the disinterested
umpire, who had happened upon us by accident, after
cautioning me so frequently and so earnestly to beware
of the other,—mind though! you jest warranted
that are watch pure goold; an' what's more, I'm a
witness on't; and if I'm no judge, as I said afore, I
ruther guess I'm a bit of lawyer when I am at home—
haw, haw, haw!
Whereupon, I continued—satisfied, gentlemen,
if you will hear me out—so far as to pay for three
dinners, and treat you both—
Jess so! cried the first. Ginmee you yit—by
Jings! added the other—hourray! their countenances
brightening up immediately—
And treat you both, as you deserve,—I added from
between my shut teeth—I could'nt help it—the rascals!
Saying this, I hurried down the steps and left
vanished on my arrival at the dinner-table, whither
they pursued me instantly and without shame or
remorse, each fortifying the other at every remark
and pretending to the last never to have met before,
nor even to know the others name. I saw clearly
enough now that they had been playing the whole
voyage through—not so much for the watch, as for
the dinners, being, after all perhaps, rather better
judges of the latter than of the former commodity;
and that if they had failed to get it in this, or in some
other similar way, by hook or by crook, as they term
it, they would have gone without or dined on the contents
of their sugar-boxes, and wallets, and saddle-bags—ginger-bread
and salt-fish perhaps, or apples
and cheese, or rye-and-indian-bread, fat-pork and cold
beans—but we have gone far enough perhaps, for one
chapter.
| CHAPTER VI. The Down-easters, &c. &c.
&c. | |