Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
[*Smoking a pipe]
the boy fetched the platters,
knives, forks, spoons, and other articles necessary for the meal, from the
van; — Morcar went to look after the horse; — and the
Traveller was buried in a profound reverie. Thus the discourse of Margaret
Flathers and her companion was as private and unrestrained as if no one had
been by.
And now the immediate vicinity of the fire presented an
animated and even comfortable appearance. Upon a huge earthenware dish was
piled a stew, which sent forth a most inviting odour. A goose, a sucking-pig,
three fowls, a couple of rabbits, and an immense quantity of vegetables,
greeted the eye and pleased the olfactory nerve; and a couple of jolly brown
quartern loaves flanked the feast. Every guest was furnished with a horn
snicker*
[*Drinking mug]
: salt, pepper, and mustard were
also provided, to give a zest to the food. Then Skilligalee paid another visit
to the van, — for he, it appears, was butler in ordinary to his
Majesty King Zingary, — and returned laden with a second enormous
bottle, filled to the hung with the very best malt liquor that ever aided to
immortalize Barclay and Perkins.
"All is ready," said Eva, in a respectful
manner to her father-in-law, the King.
Zingary stroked down his beard in a majestic manner,
murmured a grace in a language totally incomprehensible to the Rattlesnake, and
then helped himself to a portion of the mess.
This was the signal for the attack; and Margaret
Flathers was by no means sorry to receive upon her platter, from the gallant
and attentive Skilligalee, a good proportion of the savoury comestibles.
The Traveller did his duty in respect to the repast;
but he seldom joined in the gay discourse which seasoned it, apparently
brooding over the one absorbing idea of vengeance, which now seemed to
constitute the only object for which that man lived.
Margaret Flathers could not help noticing the great
respect which all present paid to the King and Queen of the Gipsies. Their
majesties joined familiarly in the conversation; and it was evident from their
remarks, especially those of Zingary, that they had travelled over every inch
of Great Britain, not a crevice or corner of which was unknown to them.
Margaret also gathered from their discourse that they had visited foreign
countries in their youth; and Zingary boasted more than once of the intimate
terms upon which he stood with the sovereigns of the Gipsies of Spain and
Bohemia.
Morcar listened to his father with deep attention and
marked respect; and expressed, with deference, his own opinions upon the
various topics of discourse. Eva spoke little, but she was an interested
listener; and from time to time she bestowed a caress upon her boy, or
exchanged a glance or a smile of affection with her husband.
In a word, the members of the royal family of the
gipsies appeared to exist upon the most comfortable terms with each other.
When the meal was over, Skilligalee beckoned Margaret
Flathers aside, and said, "We will go and seat ourselves under the brow of
yonder hill, and pass an hour in conversation. I have much to tell you, and you
must have something to tell me."
"I have — I have indeed! "
exclaimed Margaret as she accompanied Skilligalee to the spot indicated where
they seated themselves on some large blocks of wood that lay there half buried
in the soil.
"I have often read and heard of the King of the
Gipsies," said Margaret; "but I always imagine. that he was a
fabulous character. Is that old man yonder really the King; or has he only
assumed the distinction by way of amusement?"
"He is as much the sovereign of the gipsies,
Margaret," answered Skilligalee, with unusual solemnity, "as Victoria
is the Queen of England; and more so, for the whole tribe pays him a blind and
implicit obedience."
"How came the king and his family with such
strange names as those by which I heard them call each other? " inquired
the Rattlesnake.
"The Gipsies in England are of two distinct races,
although united under one ruler," replied Skillgalee. "They are
Egyptian and Bohemian, and the royal family always adopts names likely to
please both parties: Zingary and Aischa are, amongst the gipsies, supposed to
be Egyptian names; Morcar and Eva are held as Bohemian. The parents who have
Egyptian names, give Bohemian ones to their children; so that the rulers of the
tribe are alternately looked upon as Egyptian and Bohemian."
"Then Morcar and Eva will be king and queen at the
death of Zingary?" said the Rattlesnake.
"Just so," replied Skilligalee.
"Now tell me, who is that moody, melancholy,
scowling fellow that you call the Traveller?" continued Margaret.
"We know but little of him," was the answer.
"He joined us — or rather, we picked him up in a state of
starvation, a few miles from Liverpool, about six weeks or two months ago; and
the king has allowed him to tramp with us, because he is without friends or
money. Moreover, he was anxious to get to London; and, for some reason or
other, he is afraid to be seen on the high-roads, or in the towns and villages.
So our wandering life just suited his convenience; and he feels himself safe in
our company. He seldom speaks about his own affairs; but he has said enough to
enable us to understand that he has suffered deeply in consequence of the
treachery of some person in whom he had put confidence, or who was his pal in
former times; and he is going up to London with the hope of finding out his
enemy. He seems a desperate fellow; and I should not like to be the person that
has offended him."
"He is not a gipsy?" said Margaret, interrogatively.
"No — not a whit more than myself,"
answered Skilligalee; "and I dare say he will leave us in London. As he
was with us when we banked your rag, he will have his reg'lars, and that will
set him up."
"And you have no idea what he has been, or who he
is?" inquired the Rattlesnake.
"We never ask questions, Meg; we listen to all
that is told us, but we never seek to pry into secrets. The king was quite
contented with seeing your well filled bag; but if you remained in his company
for a hundred years from this time, he would never ask you how you came by it.
All impertinent curiosity is against the laws of the Zingarees."
"Zingarees! who are they?" exclaimed the
Rattlesnake.
"The Gipsies — with another
name — that's all, Meg," replied Skilligalee. "But I was
telling you about the man that we call the Traveller. When his heart has been
the least thing warmed with
sluicing his bolt*
[*Drinking]
and cocking his broseley,
he has told us strange stories of foreign countries, so that even old Zingary,
who has travelled a good deal, has turned up the whites of his eyes. But there
is no doubt that the sulky stranger has seen much, and gone through much also.
He talks of the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Horn, and Australia, and heaven only
knows what distant places, almost as well as you and I should about the
coal-hells in Staffordshire."
"And does he mean to kill the man that has
offended him?" demanded the Rattlesnake.
"I'll warrant he does," was the answer;
"for all that he possessed in the world, when we picked him up nearly
frozen to death in a pit where he had crept for shelter, — all that
he possessed besides his rags, was a long dagger, which he calls a poniard: it
is as bright as silver, and so flexible that you can bend it double without
breaking it. So determined is he to bury it some half dozen inches in his
enemy's heart, that he wouldn't even sell it, it appears, when famishing for a
morsel of bread."
"He seems a desperate-looking fellow,"
observed the Rattlesnake. "I never heard of so terrible a
man — except one; and hell doesn't contain a greater demon than him.
But I will tell you all about that another time: you must answer me my
questions first."
"Oh! of course," exclaimed Skilligalee, with
a merry laugh; "because you are the lady, and I am the gentleman. What
else do you want to know?"
"Why the king is going up to London?"
"He always does at this season of the year, to
meet the chiefs of the different districts, and settle a good deal of business.
But you will see all about it when once we get up into the Holy
Land — that is, if you've made up your mind to go with us."
"I have," answered the Rattlesnake. "And
now tell me all that has happened to you since we parted in that hurried
manner — you know how."
"Well — I will," cried Skilligalee:
"so listen attentively, as all story-tellers say."
Then, clearing his throat with a loud hem, he commenced
his narrative in the following manner.
SKILLIGALEE'S STORY
"You remember the day we parted,
after having lived together for nearly six months. I gave you two guineas to
find your way up to London, where I recommended you to proceed to seek your
fortune; and I told you that I had as much left for myself, to help me to get
away from a part of the country where the numerous burglaries I had committed
had put all the constables on the alert after me. But in reality I had but two
or three shillings remaining in my pocket. I knew that if I told you the real
state of my finances, you would not accept so much as I had given you; but I
was afraid that you might be implicated in my difficulties, and so I was
determined that you should have sufficient to convey you clear away from
Staffordshire.
"Well, when we parted, I walked along the road
leading away from the village, as disconsolate as might be; and yet you know
that I am not naturally of a very mournful disposition. It was nine o'clock in
the evening, if you remember, when I put you into the waggon that was to take
you to London. I went on until I reached a lonely public-house, by the
way-side. It was then eleven o'clock; and I was both tired and hungry. I
entered the
Three Compasses
(which was the sign of the public
house), and sat down in the parlour. There was another traveller there — a
short stout man, with a very red face, and who was committing desperate havoc
upon a large cheese and loaf, from which he, however, occasionally diverted his
attention, in order to pay his respects to a pot of porter. I ordered some
refreshment, and inquired if I could be accommodated with a bed. The old widow
woman who kept the place, said that the only bed she had to spare was already
engaged by the gentleman then at supper, but that I might sleep in the hay-loft
if I chose. Thereupon the red-faced man gave a long stare at me, shrugged his
shoulders, and went on eating. I suppose that my appearance was not respectable
enough to induce him to resign half of his bed for my accommodation; and,
indeed, I was dreadfully shabby — almost in rags, as you may well
remember. So I accepted the offer of the hay-loft; and retired to that place as
soon as I had finished my supper.
"But as I clambered up the ladder to my
roosting-place, my unfortunate trousers caught a nail; and one leg was split
completely down to the foot. I was now in a most wretched dilemma, not knowing
how I should contrive to mend my luckless inexpressibles. But I soon fell
asleep, in spite of my unpleasant reflections; and when I awoke, the dawn of
the mild spring morning was just breaking. I examined my garment, and was
reduced to despair at its appearance. At length I resolved to dress myself, go
down stairs, borrow a needle and thread of the old woman, and be my own tailor.
When I descended into the yard, I found a lad busily employed in cleaning a
pair of boots, while a pair of trousers lay upon a bench, neatly folded up,
having evidently gone through the process of brushing. I immediately recognised
the stout drab pantaloons which the red-faced man wore on the preceding
evening; and my eyes dwelt longingly upon them. In reply to my questions, the
boy said that his grandmother (the old widow who kept the public-house) was not
up yet, but that he could get me a needle and thread, as he knew where she kept
her work-bag. I begged him to do so; and he very obligingly went into the house
for that purpose.
"The moment he had disappeared I snatched up the
red-faced man's drab trousers in one hand, and his excellent pair of bluchers
in the other: then, without waiting to look behind me, I jumped over the fence
which separated the stable-yard from the fields, and was speedily scampering
across the open country as fast as my legs would carry me. When I had run about
a mile, I reached a little grove, situated on the bank of a stream: and there I
halted.
"The red-faced gentleman's boots were a wonderful
improvement upon my old broken shoes; but his pantaloons fitted somewhat
awkwardly, being a world too wide round the waist, and a foot too short in the
legs. However, they were better than my old tattered unmentionables, and I
could not complain that they were dear!
"I pursued my way along the banks of the stream
until past mid-day, when I came to a village, where I halted at a public-house
to take some refreshment. My two or three shillings were still unchanged,
because I had not paid a single penny for my entertainment at the Three
Compasses. While I sate enjoying my bread and cheese and beer, I revolved in my
mind various plans to better my condition.
But my attention was speedily averted from
that topic to the conversation of two old men, who were sitting at another
table in the tap-room.
" 'So poor old Joe Dobbin's scapegrace nephew is
coming home at last?' said one. — 'Yes,' replied the other: 'he has
been seeking his fortune, as a sailor, all over the world, for the last ten
years; and now that he hasn't a penny, and is a-weary of a sea-faring life, he
has written to say that he is coming home to his poor old blind
uncle.' — 'Ah! Tom Tittlebat has been a wild'un in his day, I'll answer
for it,' said the first old man. 'But his uncle seems quite delighted at the
idea of seeing him again,' observed the other old fellow. — 'He says
that he shall persuade upon Tom to stay at home and take care of him; and then
he'll be able to turn away cross old Margery, who robs him and ill-treats him
in a shameful manner.'
"I devoured every word of this conversation; and
my mind was instantly made up. I accordingly joined in the discourse, called
for some ale, of which I made the two old fellows partake, and so artfully
pumped them that in half an hour I knew all about old blind Dobbin and his
graceless nephew Tom Tittlebat, without having appeared even to ask a single
question concerning them. At length, when I had my lesson complete, I burst out
into a hearty laugh, and cried out, 'What, Master Buckley, don't you remember
me then? and you, good Master Dottings, am I quite a stranger to you too?' The
old men stared; and then, with another hearty laugh, I boldly announced myself
to be Tom Tittlebat. You should have seen the old fellows — how glad
they were! One swore that he had all along suspected who I was; and the other
vowed that my features were unchanged since he last saw me, although my face
was a little tanned! Then I called for more ale, and plied the old boys well,
so that they might help to favour the imposture which I meditated.
"Away we went to the cottage inhabited by old
Dobbin, my two aged companions really showing me the way, while I pretended to
be quite familiar with it. The moment we came in sight of my alleged uncle's
residence, old Buckley and Dottings (whose names I had found out from their own
discourse with me) hobbled forward, exclaiming, 'Here's the prodigal returned,
Brother Dobbin!' — 'Kill the fatted calf, Brother Dobbin!' And In a
few moments I was in my alleged uncle's arms.
"Then the fatted calf wine indeed killed. Dame
Margery, the old man's
housekeeper, was compelled to bustle about to prepare a copious
supper — a duty which she performed with a very bad grace, and with
sundry suspicious leers and side-glances towards me. I took no notice of her
ill-humour, but rattled away about my adventures by sea and land till the three
old men were quite astounded at the marvellous things I had seen and the
tremendous perils that I had escaped. Buckley and Dotting. were invited to stay
to supper; and a merry meal we had. When the things were cleared away, I
undertook to brew the punch, assuring the old folks that the compound would be
made according to a recipe which I had obtained from the king of the
Inaccessible Islands.
"Well, the punch was made; and there it stood
steaming in an enormous bowl upon the table. I was determined to enjoy myself;
for I purposed to pack up every thing portable during the night and decamp before
dawn, for fear that the rightful nephew should return before I had turned my
trick to advantage. So I filled the tumblers, and plied the punch to such an
extent that even old Margery's ill-humour was overcome by the gaiety of the
scene; and she consented to sit down and join us.
I was just in the middle of a most exciting account of
a conflict which I had with a shark at the South Pole, when a loud knock at the
door resounded through the house. Margery hastened to obey the summons; and old
Dobbin observed, 'I shouldn't be surprised if this was my cousin George, for I
wrote to him the day before yesterday to say that my nephew Tom was coming
home, and invited him down to pass a week or so on the happy occasion.' I heard
this remark; but the punch had produced such an effect upon me, that I felt no
uneasiness. I thought I should be able to get over cousin George as easily as I
had done uncle Dobbin; and so I amused myself by filling the glasses round from
the second bowl, which had only just been mixed.
"Meantime Dame Margery, having answered the door,
returned, exclaiming, 'It be Master George.' and followed by a person whom her
tall gaunt form in some measure hid from me until they were both close to the
table. Then what a dreadful scene took place! In cousin George, to my horror
and dismay, I beheld the red-faced man that I'd met at the Three Compasses, and
whose drab trousers adorned me at that very moment!
"I leapt from my seat, and was making as fast as I
could to the door, when cousin George shouted out, 'Holloa! who have we
here?' — and, springing forward, he collared me in a moment. 'What's
the matter? what's the matter?' demanded old Dobbin. — 'My stars!
what's this mean? 'exclaimed Dame Margery. — 'Why, it means that this
fellow is a robber, and has got on my breeches and boots!' vociferated cousin
George, growing purple in the face with rage, and giving me a violent
shake. — 'Your breeches!' cried old Buckley. — 'Your
boots!' mumbled old Dottings. — 'Yes, to be sure! shouted the red-faced
man. 'Go and fetch a constable.' — 'Why, you don't mean that nephew
Tom has done this?' said old Dobbin. — 'Nephew Tom!' exclaimed cousin
George, letting go his hold upon my coat: 'no!' — 'But I say yes,
though,' said I, putting a bold face upon the matter: 'I knew you directly when
I met you at the Three Compasses ast night, and only did it by way of a lark.'
"But this turn did not serve me. While I spoke,
cousin George surveyed me attentively; and, again rushing upon me, he roared
out. 'He 's a cheat! he's an impostor! Tom has a mole on the left cheek, and
he's none: Tom has a cut over the right eye, and he hasn't. Go for a
constable.' — 'Well, I thought all along he was a rogue,' cried Dame
Margery, hurrying off to execute this most unpleasant order.
"My case now seemed desperate; and not a moment
was to be lost. Casting my eyes rapidly around in search of some weapon of
defence or avenue of escape, I espied the punch-bowl, three parts full of
steaming liquor, within my reach. With the rapidity of lightning I seized it,
and dashed it over like a hat upon cousin George's head. He uttered a terrific
yell as the hot punch streamed down him; and I precipitated myself from the
room as if a blood-hound was at my heels.
"Away I scudded — a hue and cry after
me: but I ran like a race-horse; and in a few minutes was beyond the sound of
the '
Stop, thief
!' raised by cousin George's ominous voice.
"That was an excellent adventure: I have often and
often laughed at it since, and wondered whether the real Tom Tittlebat ever did
return. At all events I kept cousin George's trousers and boots; but they got
me into more scrapes yet.
"I strolled along through the fields, diverting
myself with reflection upon the past, and pondering upon what might be in store
for the future, until I reached a large market town, where I went boldly to the
tap-room of the principal tavern. I ordered an excellent supper, with plenty of
ale, feeling convinced that some lucky adventure would enable me to pay for my
cheer — for I had now but one shilling left, the remainder of my
money having been spent at the inn where I met the two old acquaintances of
blind Dobbin.
"The tap-room was filled with people; and the
conversation was pretty general. There was, however, one individual who took no
part in the discourse, but sate apart in an obscure corner smoking his pipe. He
did not even appear to listen to what was said around him; but maintained his
eyes moodily fixed on the floor. His horrible sallow complexion, deep wrinkles,
and large mustache, gave him an aspect very far from inviting. Nevertheless, I
endeavoured to enter into conversation with him — simply, I suppose,
because he appeared to be so reserved, and my curiosity was excited with
respect to him; but he threw upon me a look of the most sovereign contempt, and
made me no answer. I shrank back from the fierce glance of his dark black eyes,
and felt abashed and cowed — I scarcely knew why. But soon recovering
my usual good spirits, I also called for my pipe and my pot, and mingled in the
conversation. Rattling away with my anecdotes, and now and then singing a
snatch of a song, I speedily made myself so agreeable to the drovers and
waggoners assembled in the tap-room, that they called for punch and invited me
to partake of it with them.
"At twelve o'clock the waiter came in, and bawled
out, '
Any more orders, gentlemen? any more orders
?' No answer being
given, he said, '
I will receive each gentleman's account, if you please
.' — This
announcement came like a clap of thunder upon me: I had but a shilling in my
pocket, and owed nearly three. What to do I could not tell. Meantime the waiter
went round, collecting the money due to him from each individual: and the
nearer he drew to the table where I was sitting, the more fidgetty I became. As
I glanced round me with feverish anxiety, I saw the dark black eyes at the
sallow-faced stranger fixed upon me; and I
thought that they glared with
fiendish delight, as if they had penetrated my secret. I felt
ashamed — and my eyes fell beneath the demon-like glance. In another
moment the waiter stood before me. 'Now, sir — if you please, sir:
steak, one shilling — taturs, penny — bread,
penny — fourteen-pence; two pints of ale, eight-pence- — screw
of bakker, penny — pot porter, four-peuce, — that's
two-and-three, sir.' I sat aghast for a few moments, and then began to fumble
in my pockets, the waiter every moment growing more impatient, At that instant
the sallow-faced stranger pointed to the bench on which I was sitting, and said
in a surly tone, 'No wonder, young man, that you can't find your money in your
pocket. when you let it roll about in all directions.' He then sank back into
his corner, and seemed to take no more notice of me or my concerns. I thought
he had a mind to banter me; but, turning my eyes towards the place which he had
indicated, to my surprise I perceived a couple of half-crowns lying there. I am
sure the waiter must have seen how my countenance brightened up with sudden
joy; but he made no remark; and I paid my bill. He then passed on to the
sallow-faced man, who settled his own account, and hastily left the room,
without condescending to cast another glance upon me.
"I was at a loss to make out whether the
sallow-faced stranger had done a most generous action, or whether some one else
had dropped the money there, and he had really fancied it to be mine. I did
not, however, lose much time in conjecture; but, taking the whole affair for a
good omen, ordered another glass, and then went jovially to bed, I awoke early,
had some breakfast, and went out to take a stroll in the town. I naturally
directed my steps towards the market-place, knowing that it was market-day, and
hoping to find a watch or a purse in the crowd.
"Elbowing my way through the graziers, drovers,
and butchers, I got into the middle of the market, and there a most
extraordinary spectacle met my eyes. A man was leading a woman along by a
halter, which was tied round her neck. At first, I thought that a public
execution was about to take place; but, seeing no gibbet — no
police — no sheriffs — and no clergyman, — and
observing, at a second glance, that the woman was giggling and laughing very
much unlike a person just going to be hanged, I was at a loss to account for so
strange a sight. The crowd appeared to enjoy the fun — for fun it
evidently was-excessively; and, at length, I learnt that '
Bob Fosset, the
dog's-meat-man, was about to sell his wife to Will Wyatt, the costermonger
.'
And, sure enough, such was the fact. Bob Fossett led his wife — a comely-looking
woman enough — to the centre of the market, and tied the halter to a
sheep-pen. He then mounted on the top bar of the pen, and shouted out: '
I
hereby put up my wife, Jenny Fossett, to public auction; and I declare that she
shall go to the highest bidder
.' — '
So I will, Bob
,' cried the woman. — '
Hooray,
Bob Fossett,
' bawled the crowd assembled; and then there was such laughing,
and joking, and sky-larking, it seemed for all the world just like a fair.
Well, Will Wyatt steps forward, and exclaims: '
I bid one shilling for that
woman.' — 'One shilling bid
,' said Bob Fossett. — '
One
shilling and a pot of beer
,' cries some wag in the crowd. — '
One shilling and a pot of beer is
bid
,' shouts
Fossett; '
who bids any more?
' — '
One shilling and a gallon
of beer!
' bawls Will Wyatt. — '
One shilling and a gallon of beer
for this woman!
'
cries Bob Fossett: '
who'll advance on that? Going for one shilling and a
gallon of beer; going — going, — will no one
bid? — gone! Will Wyatt, my lad, that woman's yours.
' So Will
Wyatt steps forward, kisses the woman, takes off the halter, and tucks her
under his arm as cozy as if they'd just been spliced at church. Then they all
three went off to the nearest public-house, the crowds hooraying, and shouting,
and squeaking, and roaring, as they made way for the party to pass along. I
determined to see the remainder of the fun, and so I followed them to the
public-house.
"The moment we entered the parlour, I saw a person
sitting in one corner, whose face seemed more or less familiar to me. Ho was a
fine, tall, powerfully-built man; and his countenance was very handsome, but so
dark that he appeared to be an East-Indian. But it was the peculiar expression
of the mouth, and the piercing glance of the eyes, that struck me. I looked — and
looked again; and thought that a slight smile curled the stranger's lips as I
surveyed him, although he did not seem to take any notice of me, or even to
know that I was staring at him. 'Well,' I thought to myself, 'if you are not my
sallow-faced friend of last-night, I'm terribly mistaken — that's
all;' for I knew too much of disguises myself to be bothered by the difference
of complexions. So I went and sat down close by him; and, having ordered
something to drink, at length boldly whispered to him,