Japhet in Search of a Father

“Then you are less disguised than I am,” replied Timothy, kicking off his wooden leg, and letting down his own, which had been tied up to his thigh, and concealed in his wide blue trowsers. “I am no more a sailor than you are, Japhet, and since you left me have never yet seen the salt water, which I talk and sing so much about.”

“Then thou hast been deceiving, Timothy, which I regret much.”

“Now I do perceive that you are a Quaker,” replied Tim; “but do not blame me until you have heard my story. Thank God, I have found you at last. But tell me, Japhet, you will not send me away—will you? If your dress is changed, you heart is not. Pray answer me, before I say anything more. You know I can be useful here.”

“Indeed, Timothy, I have often wished for you since I have been here, and it will be your own fault if I part with you. You shall assist me in the shop; but you must dress like me.”

“Dress like you! have I not always dressed like you? When we started from Cophagus’s, were we not dressed much alike? did we not wear spangled jackets together? did I not wear your livery, and belong to you? I’ll put on anything, Japhet—but we must not part again.”

“My dear Timothy, I trust we shall not; but I expect my assistant here soon, and do not wish that he should see you in that garb. Go to a small public-house at the farther end of this street, and when you see me pass, come out to me, and we will walk out into the country, and consult together.”

“I have put up at a small house not far off, and have some clothes there; I will alter my dress and meet you. God bless you, Japhet.”

Timothy then picked up his ballads, which were scattered on the floor, put up his leg, and putting on his wooden stump, hastened away, after once more silently pressing my hand.

In half an hour my assistant returned, and I desired him to remain in the shop, as I was going out on business. I then walked to the appointed rendezvous, and was soon joined by Tim, who had discarded his sailor’s disguise, and was in what is called a shabby-genteel sort of dress. After the first renewed greeting, I requested Tim to let me know what had occurred to him since our separation.

“You cannot imagine, Japhet, what my feelings were when I found, by your note, that you had left me. I had perceived how unhappy you had been for a long while, and I was equally distressed, although I knew not the cause. I had no idea until I got your letter, that you had lost all your money; and I felt it more unkind of you to leave me then, than if you had been comfortable and independent. As for looking after you, that I knew would be useless; and I immediately went to Mr Masterton, to take his advice as to how I should proceed. Mr Masterton had received your letter, and appeared to be very much annoyed. ‘Very foolish boy,’ said he; ‘but there is nothing that can be done now. He is mad, and that is all that can be said in his excuse. You must do as he tells you, I suppose, and try the best for yourself. I will help you in any way that I can, my poor fellow,’ said he, ‘so don’t cry.’ I went back to the house and collected together your papers, which I sealed up. I knew that the house was to be given up in a few days. I sold the furniture, and made the best I could of the remainder of your wardrobe, and other things of value that you had left; indeed, everything, with the exception of the dressing-case and pistols, which had belonged to Major Carbonnell, and I thought you might perhaps some day like to have them.”

“How very kind of you, Timothy, to think of me in that way! I shall indeed be glad; but no—what have I to do with pistols or silver dressing-cases now? I must not have them, but still I thank you all the same.”

“The furniture and everything else fetched 430 pounds, after all expenses were paid.”

“I am glad of it, Timothy, for your sake; but I am sorry, judging by your present plight, that if appears to have done you but little good.”

“Because I did not make use of it, Japhet. What could I do with all that money? I took it to Mr Masterton, with all your papers, and the dressing-case and pistols:—he has it now ready for you when you ask for it. He was very kind to me, and offered to do anything for me; but I resolved to go in search of you. I had more money in my pocket when you went away than I generally have, and with the surplus of what you left for the bills, I had twelve or fourteen pounds. So I wished Mr Masterton good-bye, and have ever since been on my adventures in search of my master.”

“Not master, Timothy, say rather of your friend.”

“Well, of both if you please, Japhet; and very pretty adventures I have had, I assure you, and some very hairbreadth escapes.”

“I think, when we compare notes, mine will be found most eventful, Timothy; but we can talk of them, and compare notes another time. At present, whom do you think I am residing with?”

“A Quaker, I presume.”

“You have guessed right so far; but who do you think that Quaker is?”

“There I’m at fault.”

“Mr Cophagus.”

At this intelligence Timothy gave a leap in the air, turned round on his heel, and tumbled on the grass in a fit of immoderate laughter.

“Cophagus!—a Quaker!” cried he at last. “O! I long to see him. Snuffle, snuffle—broad brims—wide skirts—and so on. Capital!”

“It is very true, Timothy, but you must not mock at the persuasion.”

“I did not intend it, Japhet, but there is something to me so ridiculous in the idea. But,” continued Timothy, “is it not still stranger, that, after having separated so many years, we should all meet again—and that I should find Mr Cophagus—an apothecary’s shop—you dispensing medicines—and I—as I hope to be—carrying them about as I did before. Well, I will row in the same boat, and I will be a Quaker as well as you both.”

“Well, we will now return, and I will take you to Mr Cophagus, who will, I am sure, be glad to see you.”

“First, Japhet, let me have some Quaker’s clothes—I should prefer it.”

“You shall have a suit of mine, Timothy, since you wish it; but recollect it is not at all necessary, nor indeed will it be permitted that you enter into the sect without preparatory examination as to your fitness for admission.”

I then went to the shop, and sending out the assistant, walked home and took out a worn suit of clothes, with which I hastened to Timothy. He put them on in the shop, and then walking behind the counter, said, “This is my place, and here I shall remain as long as you do.”

“I hope so, Timothy: as for the one who is with me at present, I can easily procure him other employment; and he will not be sorry to go, for he is a married man, and does not like the confinement.”

“I have some money,” said Timothy, taking out of his old clothes a dirty rag, and producing nearly twenty pounds. “I am well off, you see.”

“You are, indeed,” replied I.

“Yes, there is nothing like being a sailor with one leg, singing ballads. Do you know, Japhet, that sometimes have taken more than a pound a day since I have shammed the sailor?”

“Not very honestly, Tim.”

“Perhaps not, Japhet but it is very strange, and yet very true, that when honest I could make nothing, and when I deceived, I have done very well.”

Part 3—Chapter XIII

Timothy commences his Narrative of his Search after Japhet.

I could not help calling to mind that the same consequences as Timothy related in the last chapter had occurred to me during my eventful career; but I had long considered that there was no excuse for dishonesty, and that, in the end, it would only lead to exposure and disgrace. I went home early in the evening to introduce Timothy to Mr Cophagus, who received him with great kindness, and agreed immediately that he ought to be with me in the shop. Timothy paid his respects to the ladies, and then went down with Ephraim, who took him under his protection. In a few days, he was as established with us as if he had been living with us for months, I had some trouble, at first, in checking his vivacity and turn for ridicule; but that was gradually effected, and I found him not only a great acquisition, but, as he always was, a cheerful and affectionate companion. I had, during the first days of our meeting, recounted my adventures, and made many inquiries of Timothy relative to my few friends. He told me that from Mr Masterton he had learnt that Lady de Clare and Fleta had called upon him very much afflicted with the contents of my letter—that Lord Windermear also had been very much vexed and annoyed—that Mr Masterton had advised him to obtain another situation as a valet, which he had refused, and, at the same time, told him his intention of searching for me. He had promised Mr Masterton to let him know if he found me, and then bade him farewell.

“I used to lie in bed, Japhet,” continued Timothy, “and think upon the best method of proceeding. At last I agreed to myself, that to look for you as you looked after your father would be a wild-goose chase, and that my money would soon be gone; so I reflected whether I might not take up some roving trade which would support me, and, at the same time, enable me to proceed from place to place. What do you think was my first speculation? Why, I saw a man with a dog harnessed in a little cart; crying dog’s meat and cat’s meat, and I said to myself, ‘Now there’s the very thing—there’s a profession—I can travel and earn my livelihood.’ I entered into conversation with him, as he stopped at a low public-house, treating him to a pot of beer; and having gained all I wanted as to the mysteries of the profession, I called for another pot, and proposed that I should purchase his whole concern, down to his knife and apron. The fellow agreed, and after a good deal of bargaining, I paid him three guineas for the set out or set up, which you please. He asked me whether I meant to hawk in London or not, and I told him no, that I should travel the country. He advised the western road, as there were more populous towns in it. Well, we had another pot to clench the bargain, and I paid down the money and took possession, quite delighted with my new occupation. Away I went to Brentford, selling a bit here and there by the way, and at last arrived at the very bench where we had sat down together and eaten our meal.”

“It is strange that I did the same, and a very unlucky bench it proved to me.”

“So it did to me, as you shall hear. I had taken up my quarters at that inn, and for three days had done very well in Brentford. On the third evening I had just come back, it was nearly dusk, and I took my seat on the bench, thinking of you. My dog, rather tired, was lying down before the cart when all of a sudden I heard a sharp whistle. The dog sprang on his legs immediately, and ran off several yards before I could prevent him. The whistle was repeated, and away went the dog and cart like lightning. I ran as fast I could, but could not overtake him; and I perceived that his old master was running ahead of the dog as hard as he could, and this was the reason why the dog was off. Still I should, I think, have overtaken him; but an old woman coming out of a door with a saucepan to pour the hot water into the gutter, I knocked her down and tumbled right over her into a cellar without steps. There I was; and before I could climb out again, man, dog, cart, cat’s meat and dog’s meat, had all vanished, and I have never seen them since. The rascal got clear off, and I was a bankrupt. So much for my first set up in business.”

“You forgot to purchase the good-will when you made your bargain, Timothy, for the stock in trade.”

“Very true, Japhet. However, after receiving a very fair share of abuse from the old woman, and a plaster of hot greens in my face—for she went supperless to bed, rather than not have her revenge—I walked back to the inn, and sat down in the tap. The two men next to me were hawkers; one carried a large pack of dimities and calicoes, and the other a box full of combs, needles, tapes, scissors, knives, and mock-gold trinkets. I entered into conversation with them, and, as I again stood treat, I soon was very intimate. They told me what their profits were, and how they contrived to get on, and I thought, for a rambling life, it was by no means an unpleasant one; so having obtained all the information I required, I went back to town, took out a hawker’s licence, for which I paid two guineas, and purchasing at a shop, to which they gave me a direction, a pretty fair quantity of articles in the tape and scissor line, off I set once more on my travels. I took the north road this time, and picked up a very comfortable subsistence, selling my goods for a few halfpence here, and a few halfpence there, at the cottages as I passed by; but I soon found out, that without a newspaper I was not a confirmed hawker, and the more radical the newspaper the better. A newspaper will pay half the expenses of a hawker, if he can read. At every house, particularly every small hedge alehouse, he is received, and placed in the best corner of the chimney, and has his board and lodging, with the exception of what he drinks, gratis, if he will pull out the newspaper and read it to those around him who cannot read, particularly if he can explain what is unintelligible. Now I became a great politician, and, moreover, a great radical, for such were the politics of all the lower classes. I lived well, slept well, and sold my wares very fast. I did not take more than three shillings in the day, yet, as two out of the three were clear profit, I did pretty well. However, a little accident happened which obliged me to change my profession, or at least the nature of the articles which I dealt in.”

“What was that?”

“A mere trifle. I had arrived late at a small alehouse, had put up my pack, which was in a painted deal box, on the table in the tap-room, and was very busy, after reading a paragraph in the newspaper, making a fine speech, which I always found was received with great applause, and many shakes of the hand, as a prime good fellow—a speech about community of rights, agrarian division, and the propriety of an equal distribution of property, proving that, as we were all born alike, no one had a right to have more property than his neighbour. The people had all gathered round me, applauding violently, when I thought I might as well look after my pack, which had been for some time hidden from my sight by the crowd, when, to my mortification, I found out that my earnest assertions on the propriety of community of property had had such an influence upon some of my listeners, that they had walked off with my pack and its contents. Unfortunately, I had deposited in my boxes all my money, considering it safer there than in my pockets, and had nothing left but about seventeen shillings in silver, which I had received within the last three days. Everyone was very sorry, but no one knew anything about it; and when I challenged the landlord as answerable, he called me a radical blackguard, and turned me out of the door.”

“If you had looked a little more after your own property, and interfered less with that of other people, you would have done better, Tim,” observed I, laughing.

“Very true; but, at all events, I have never been a radical since,” replied Tim. “But to go on. I walked off to the nearest town, and I commenced in a more humble way. I purchased a basket, and then, with the remainder of my money, I bought the commonest crockery ware, such as basins, jugs, mugs, and putting them on my head, off I went again upon my new speculation. I wandered about with my crockery, but it was hard work. I could not reap the profits which I did as a hawker and pedlar. I averaged, however, from seven to nine shillings a week, and that was about sufficient for my support. I went down into as many kitchens as would have sufficed to have found a dozen mothers, supposing mine to be a cook; but I did not see anyone who was at all like me. Sometimes a cook replaced a basin she had broken, by giving me as much meat as had cost her mistress five shillings, and thus avoided a scolding, for an article which was worth only two-pence. At other times, a cottager would give me a lodging, and would consider himself rewarded with a mug that only cost me one penny. I was more than three months employed carrying crockery in every direction, and never, during the whole time, broke one article, until one day, as I passed through Eton, there was a regular smash of the whole concern.”

“Indeed, how was that?”

“I met about a dozen of the Eton boys, and they proposed a cockshy, as they called it; that is, I was to place my articles on the top of a post, and they were to throw stones at them at a certain distance, paying me a certain sum for each throw. Well, this I thought a very good bargain, so I put up a mug (worth one penny) at one penny a throw. It was knocked down at the second shot, so it was just as well to put the full price upon them at once, they were such remarkable good aimers at anything. Each boy had a stick, upon which I notched off their throws, and how much they would have to pay when all was over. One article after another was put on the post until my basket was empty, and then I wanted to settle with them, but as soon as I talked about that, they all burst out into a loud laugh, and took to their heels. I chased them, but one might as well have chased eels. If I got hold of one, the others pulled me behind until he escaped, and at last they were all off, and I had nothing left.”

“Not your basket?”

“No, not even that; for while I was busy after some that ran one way, the others kicked my basket before them like a foot-ball, until it was fairly out of sight. I had only eight-pence in my pocket, so you perceive, Japhet, how I was going down in the world.”

“You were indeed, Tim.”

Part 3—Chapter XIV

Timothy finishes his Narrative.

“Well, I walked away, cursing all the Eton boys and all their tutors, who did not teach them honesty as well as Latin and Greek, and put up at a very humble sort of abode, where they sold small beer, and gave beds at two-pence per night, and I may add, with plenty of fleas in the bargain. There I fell in with some ballad singers and mumpers, who were making very merry, and who asked me what was the matter. I told them how I had been treated, and they laughed at me, but gave me some supper, so I forgave them. An old man, who governed the party, then asked me whether I had any money. I produced my enormous capital of eight-pence. ‘Quite enough, if you are clever,’ said he; ‘quite enough—many a man with half that sum has ended in rolling in his carriage. A man with thousands has only the advance of you a few years. You will pay for your lodging and then spend this sixpence in matches, and hawk them about the town. If you are lucky, it will be a shilling by to-morrow night. Besides, you go down into areas, and sometimes enter a kitchen, when the cook is above stairs. There are plenty of things to be picked up.’ ‘But I am not dishonest,’ said I. ‘Well, then, every man to his liking; only if you were, you would ride in your own coach the sooner.’ ‘And suppose I should lose all this, or none would buy my matches, what then?’ replied I; ‘I shall starve.’ ‘Starve—no, no—no one starves in this country; all you have to do is to get into gaol—committed for a month—you will live better perhaps than you ever did before. I have been in every gaol in England, and I know the good ones, for even in gaols there is a great difference. Now the one in this town is one of the best in all England, and I patronises it during the winter.’ I was much amused with the discourse of this mumper, who appeared to be one of the merriest old vagabonds in England. I took his advice, bought six pennyworth of matches, and commenced my new vagrant speculation.

“The first day I picked up three-pence, for one quarter of my stock, and returned to the same place where I had slept the night before, but the fraternity had quitted on an expedition. I spent my two-pence in bread and cheese, and paid one penny for my lodging, and again I started the next morning, but I was very unsuccessful; nobody appeared to want matches that day; and after walking from seven o’clock in the morning, to past seven in the evening, without selling one farthing’s worth, I sat down at the porch of a chapel, quite tired and worn out. At last I fell asleep, and how do you think I was awoke? by a strong sense of suffocation, and up I sprang, coughing, and nearly choked, surrounded with smoke. Some mischievous boys perceiving that I was fast asleep, had set fire to my matches, as I held them in my hand between my legs, and I did not wake until my fingers were severely burnt. There was an end of my speculation in matches, because there was an end of all my capital.”

“My poor Timothy, I really feel for you.”

“Not at all, my dear Japhet; I never, in all my distress, was sentenced to execution—my miseries were trifles, to be laughed at. However, I felt very miserable at the time, and walked off, thinking about the propriety of getting into gaol as soon as I could, for the beggar had strongly recommended it. I was at the outskirts of the town, when I perceived two men tussling with one another, and I walked towards them. ‘I says,’ says one, who appeared to be a constable, ‘you must come along with I. Don’t you see that ’ere board? All wagrants shall be taken up, and dealt with according to la.’ ‘Now may the devil hold you in his claws, you old psalm-singing thief—an’t I a sailor—and an’t I a wagrant by profession, and all according to law?’ ‘That won’t do,’ says the other; ‘I commands you in the king’s name, to let me take you to prison, and I commands you also, young man,’ says he—for I had walked up to them—‘I commands you, as a lawful subject, to assist me.’ ‘What will you give the poor fellow for his trouble?’ said the sailor. ‘It’s his duty, as a lawful subject, and I’ll give him nothing; but I’ll put him in prison if he don’t.’ ‘Then, you old Rhinoceros, I’ll give him five shillings if he’ll help me, and so now he may take his choice.’ At all events, thought I, this will turn out lucky one way or the other; but I will support the man who is most generous; so I went up to the constable, who was a hurley sort of a fellow, and tripped up his heels, and down he came on the back of his head. You know my old trick, Japhet?”

“Yes; I never knew you fail at that.”

“‘Well,’ the sailor says to me, ‘I’ve a notion you’ve damaged his upper works, so let us start off, and clap on all sail for the next town. I know where to drop an anchor. Come along with me, and, as long as I’ve a shot in the locker, damn me if I won’t share it with one who has proved a friend in need.’ The constable did not come to his senses; he was very much stunned, but we loosened his neckcloth, and left him there, and started off as fast as we could. My new companion, who had a wooden leg, stopped by a gate, and clambered over it. ‘We must lose no time,’ said he; ‘and I may just as well have the benefit of both legs.’ So saying, he took off his wooden stump, and let down his real leg, which was fixed up just as you saw mine. I made no comments; but off we set, and at a good round pace gained a village about five miles distant. ‘Here we will put up for the night; but they will look for us to-morrow at daylight, or a little after, therefore we must be starting early. I know the law beggars well; they won’t turn out afore sunrise.’ He stopped at a paltry alehouse, where we were admitted, and soon were busy with a much better supper than I had ever imagined they could have produced; but my new friend ordered right and left, with a tone of authority, and everybody in the house appeared at his beck and command. After a couple of glasses of grog, we retired to our beds.

“The next morning we started before break of day, on our road to another town, where my companion said the constables would never take the trouble to come after him. On our way he questioned me as to my mode of getting my livelihood, and I narrated how unfortunate I had been. ‘One good turn deserves another,’ replied the sailor; ‘and now I’ll set you up in trade. Can you sing? Have you anything of a voice?’ ‘I can’t say that I have,’ replied I. ‘I don’t mean whether you can sing in tune, or have a good voice, that’s no consequence; all I want to know is, have you a good loud one?’ ‘Loud enough, if that’s all.’ ‘That’s all that’s requisite; so long as you can make yourself heard—you may then howl like a jackall or bellow like a mad buffalo, no matter which—as many pay us for to get rid of us, as out of charity; and so long as the money comes, what’s the odds? Why, I once knew an old chap, who could only play one tune on the clarionet, and that tune out of all tune, who made his fortune in six or seven streets, for everyone gave him money, and told him to go away. When he found out that, he came every morning as regular as clock-work. Now there was one of the streets which was chiefly occupied by music sellers and Italian singers—for them foreigners always herd together—and this tune, “which the old cow died of,” as the saying is, used to be their horror, and out came the halfpence to send him away. There was a sort of club also in that street, of larking sort of young men; and when they perceived that the others gave the old man money to get rid of his squeaking, they sent him out money, with orders to stay and play to them, so then the others sent out more for him to go away, and between the two, the old fellow brought home more money than all the cadgers and mumpers in the district. Now if you have a loud voice, I can provide you with all the rest.’—‘Do you gain your livelihood by that?’—‘To be sure I do; and I can tell you, that of all the trades going, there is none equal to it. You see, my hearty, I have been on board of a man-of-war—not that I’m a sailor, or was ever bred to the sea—but I was shipped as a landsman, and did duty in the waist and afterguard. I know little or nothing of my duty as a seaman, nor was it required in the station I was in, so I never learnt, although I was four years on board; all I learnt was the lingo and slang—and that you must contrive to learn from me. I bolted, and made my way good to Lunnun, but I should soon have been picked up and put on board the Tender again, if I hadn’t got this wooden stump made, which I now carry in my hand. I had plenty of songs, and I commenced my profession, and a real good ’un it is, I can tell you. Why, do you know, that a’ter a good victory, I have sometimes picked up as much as two pounds a day, for weeks running; as it is, I averages from fifteen shillings to a pound. Now, as you helped me away from that land shark, who would soon have found out that I had two legs, and have put me into limbo as an impostor, I will teach you to arn your livelihood after my fashion. You shall work with me until you are fit to start alone, and then there’s plenty of room in England for both of us; but mind, never tell anyone what you pick up, or every mumper in the island will put on a suit of sailor’s clothes, and the thing will be blown upon.’ Of course, this was too good an offer to be rejected, and I joyfully acceded. At first, I worked with him as having only one arm, the other being tied down to my side, and my jacket sleeve hanging loose and empty, and we roared away right and left, so as to bring down a shower of coppers wherever we went. In about three weeks my friend thought I was able to start by myself; and giving me half of the ballads, and five shillings to start with, I shook hands and parted with, next to you, the best friend that I certainly ever had. Ever since I have been crossing the country in every direction, with plenty of money in my pocket, and always with one eye looking sharp out for you. My beautiful voice fortunately attracted your attention, and here I am, and at an end of my history; but if ever I am away from you, and in distress again, depend upon it I shall take to my wooden leg and ballads for my support.”