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Japhet, In Search Of A Father by Frederick Marryat

F >> Frederick Marryat >> Japhet, In Search Of A Father




"Upon my word, Newland, you obtained better terms than I could have
expected from the old Hunks."

"Much better than I expected also, Major," replied I; "but now, how much
of the money would you like to have?"

"My dear fellow, this is very handsome of you; but, I thank Heaven, I
shall be soon able to repay it: but what pleases me, Newland, is your
perfect confidence in one whom the rest of the world would not trust
with a shilling. I will accept your offer as freely as it is made, and
take L500, just to make a show for the few weeks that I am in suspense,
and then you will find, that with all my faults, I am rot deficient in
gratitude." I divided the money with the Major, and he shortly
afterwards went out.

"Well, sir," said Timothy, entering, full of curiosity, "what have you
done?"

"I have borrowed a thousand to pay fifteen hundred when I come into my
property."

"You are safe then. Excellent, and the Jew will be bit."

"No, Timothy, I intend to repay it as soon as I can."

"I should like to know when that will be."

"So should I, Tim, for it must depend upon my finding out my parentage."
Heigho, thought I, when shall I ever find out who is my father?




Chapter XXX

The Major is very fortunate and very unfortunate--He receives a
large sum in gold and one ounce of lead.


I dressed and went out, met Harcourt, dined with him, and on my return
the Major had not come home. It was then past midnight, and feeling
little inclination to sleep, I remained in the drawing-room, waiting for
his arrival. About three o'clock he came in, flushed in the face, and
apparently in high good humour.

"Newland," said he, throwing his pocket-book on the table, "just open
that, and then you will open your eyes."

I obeyed him, and to my surprise took out a bundle of bank-notes; I
counted up their value, and they amounted to L3500.

"You have been fortunate, indeed."

"Yes," replied the Major; "knowing that in a short time I shall be
certain of cash, one way or the other, I had resolved to try my luck
with the L500. I went to the hazard table, and threw in seventeen
times--hedged upon the deuce ace, and threw out with it--_voila_. They
won't catch me there again in a hurry--luck like that only comes once in
a man's life; but, Japhet, there is a little drawback to all this. I
shall require your kind attendance in two or three hours."

"Why, what's the matter?"

"Merely an affair of honour. I was insulted by a vagabond, and we meet
at six o'clock."

"A vagabond--but surely, Carbonnell, you will not condescend--"

"My dear fellow, although as great a vagabond as there is on the face of
the earth, yet he is a peer of the realm, and his title warrants the
meeting--but, after all, what is it?"

"I trust it will be nothing, Carbonnell, but still it may prove
otherwise."

"Granted; and what then, my dear Newland? we all owe Heaven a death, and
if I am floored, why then I shall no longer be anxious about title or
fortune."

"It's a bad way of settling a dispute," replied I, gravely.

"There is no other, Newland. How would society be held in check if it
were not for duelling? We should all be a set of bears living in a
bear-garden. I presume you have never been out?"

"Never," replied I, "and had hoped that I never should have."

"Then you must have better fortune, or better temper than most others,
if you pass through life without an affair of this kind on your hands. I
mean as principal, not as second. But, my dear fellow, I must give you a
little advice, relative to your behaviour as a second; for I'm very
particular on these occasions, and like that things should be done very
correctly. It will never do, my dear Newland, that you appear on the
ground with that melancholy face. I do not mean that you should laugh,
or even smile, that would be equally out of character, but you should
show yourself perfectly calm and indifferent. In your behaviour towards
the other second, you must be most scrupulously polite, but, at the same
time, never give up a point of dispute, in which my interest may be
concerned. Even in your walk be slow, and move, as much as the ground
will allow you, as if you were in a drawing-room. Never remain silent;
offer even trivial remarks, rather than appear distract. There is one
point of great importance--I refer to choosing the ground, in which,
perhaps, you will require my unperceived assistance. Any decided line
behind me would be very advantageous to my adversary, such as the trunk
of a tree, post, &c.; even an elevated light or dark ground behind me is
unadvisable. Choose, if you can, a broken light, as it affects the
correctness of the aim; but as you will not probably be able to manage
this satisfactorily, I will assist you. When on the ground, after having
divided the sun fairly between us, I will walk about unconcernedly, and
when I perceive a judicious spot, I will take a pinch of snuff and use
my handkerchief, turning at the same time in the direction in which I
wish my adversary to be placed. Take your cue from that, and with all
suavity of manner, insist as much as you can upon our being so placed.
That must be left to your own persuasive powers. I believe I have now
stated all that is necessary, and I must prepare my instruments."

The major then went into his own room, and I never felt more nervous or
more unhinged than after this conversation. I had a melancholy
foreboding--but that I believe every one has, when he, for the first
time, has to assist at a mortal rencontre. I was in a deep musing when
he returned with his pistols and all the necessary apparatus; and when
the Major pointed out to me, and made me once or twice practice the
setting of the hair triggers, which is the duty of the second, an
involuntary shudder came over me.

"Why, Newland, what is the matter with you? I thought that you had more
nerve."

"I probably should show more, Carbonnell, were I the principal instead
of the second, but I cannot bear the reflection that some accident
should happen to you. You are the only one with whom I have been on
terms of friendship, and the idea of losing you, is very, very painful."

"Newland, you really quite unman me, and you may now see a miracle,"
continued Carbonnell, as he pressed his hand to his eye, "the moisture
of a tear on the cheek of a London _roue_, a man of the world, who has
long lived for himself and for this world only. It never would be
credited if asserted. Newland, there was a time when I was like
yourself--the world took advantage of my ingenuousness and inexperience;
my good feelings were the cause of my ruin, and then, by degrees, I
became as callous and as hardened as the world itself. My dear fellow, I
thought all affection, all sentiment, dried up within me, but it is not
the case. You have made me feel that I have still a heart, and that I
can love you. But this is all romance, and not fitted for the present
time. It is now five o'clock, let us be on the ground early--it will
give us an advantage."

"I do not much like speaking to you on the subject, Carbonnell; but is
there nothing that you might wish done in case of accident?"

"Nothing--why yes. I may as well. Give me a sheet of paper." The Major
sat down and wrote for a few minutes. "Now, send Timothy and another
here. Timothy, and you, sir, see me sign this paper, and put my seal to
it. I deliver this as my act and deed. Put your names as witnesses."
They complied with his request, and then the Major desired Timothy to
call a hackney-coach. "Newland," said the Major, putting the paper,
folded up, in my pocket, along with the bank notes, "take care of this
for me till we come back."

"The coach is at the door, sir," said Timothy, looking at me, as if to
say, "What can all this be about?"

"You may come with us and see," said the Major, observing Tim's
countenance, "and put that case into the coach." Tim, who knew that it
was the Major's case of pistols, appeared still more alarmed, and stood
still without obeying the order. "Never mind, Tim, your master is not
the one who is to use them," said the Major, patting him on the
shoulder.

Timothy, relieved by this intelligence, went down stairs with the
pistols; we followed him. Tim mounted on the box, and we drove to Chalk
Farm. "Shall the coach wait?" inquired Timothy.

"Yes, by all means," replied I, in a low voice. We arrived at the usual
ground, where disputes of this kind were generally settled; and the
Major took a survey of it with great composure.

"Now observe, Japhet," said he, "if you can contrive--; but here they
are. I will give you the notice agreed upon." The peer, whose title was
Lord Tineholme, now came up with his second, whom he introduced to me as
Mr Osborn. "Mr Newland," replied the Major, saluting Mr Osborn in
return. We both took off our hats, bowed, and then proceeded to our
duty. I must do my adversary's second the justice to say, that his
politeness was fully equal to mine. There was no mention, on either
side, of explanations and retractions--the insult was too gross, and the
character of his lordship, as well as that of Major Carbonnell, was too
well known. Twelve paces were proposed by Mr Osborn, and agreed to by
me--the pistols of Major Carbonnell were gained by drawing lots--we had
nothing more to do but to place our principals. The Major took out his
snuff-box, took a pinch, and blew his nose, turning towards a copse of
beech trees.

"With your permission, I will mark out the ground, Mr Osborn," said I,
walking up to the Major, and intending to pace twelve paces in the
direction towards which he faced.

"Allow me to observe that I think a little more in this direction, would
be more fair for both parties," said Mr Osborn.

"It would so, my dear sir," replied I, "but, submitting to your superior
judgment, perhaps it may not have struck you that my principal will have
rather too much of the sun. I am incapable of taking any advantage, but
I should not do my duty if I did not see every justice done to the
Major, who has confided to me in this unpleasant affair. I put it to
you, sir, as a gentleman and man of honour, whether I am claiming too
much?" A little amicable altercation took place on this point, but
finding that I would not yield, and that at every reply I was more and
more polite and bland in my deportment, Mr Osborn gave up the point. I
walked the twelve paces, and Mr Osborn placed his principal. I observed
that Lord Tineholme did not appear pleased; he expostulated with him,
but it was then too late. The pistols had been already loaded--the
choice was given to his lordship, and Major Carbonnell received the
other from my hand, which actually trembled, while his was firm. I
requested Mr Osborn to drop the handkerchief, as I could not make up my
mind to give a signal which might be fatal to the Major. They
fired--Lord Tineholme fell immediately--the Major remained on his feet
for a second or two, and then sank down on the ground. I hastened up to
him. "Where are you hurt?"

The Major put his hand to his hip--"I am hit hard, Newland, but not so
hard as he is. Run and see."

I left the Major, and went up to where Lord Tineholme lay, his head
raised on the knee of his second.

"It is all over with him, Mr Newland, the ball has passed through his
brain."




Chapter XXXI

The Major pays the only debt of consequence he ever did pay, and I
find myself a man of property.


I hastened back to the Major, to examine his wound, and, with the
assistance of Timothy, I stripped him sufficiently to ascertain that the
ball had entered his hip, and probing the wound with my finger, it
appeared that it had glanced off in the direction of the intestines; the
suffusion of blood was very trifling, which alarmed me still more.

"Could you bear removal, Major, in the coach?"

"I cannot tell, but we must try; the sooner I am home the better,
Japhet," replied he faintly.

With the assistance of Timothy, I put him into the hackney-coach, and we
drove off, after I had taken off my hat and made my obeisance to Mr
Osborn, an effort of politeness which I certainly should have neglected,
had I not been reminded of it by my principal. We set off, and the
Major bore his journey very well, making no complaint, but, on our
arrival he fainted as we lifted him out. As soon as he was on the bed, I
despatched Timothy for a surgeon. On his arrival he examined the wound,
and shook his head. Taking me into the next room, he declared his
opinion, that the ball had passed into the intestines, which were
severed, and that there was no hope. I sat down and covered up my
face--the tears rolled down and trickled through my fingers--it was the
first heavy blow I had yet received. Without kindred or connections, I
felt that I was about to lose one who was dear to me. To another, not in
my situation, it might have only produced a temporary grief at the near
loss of a friend; but to me, who was almost alone in the world, the loss
was heavy in the extreme. Whom had I to fly to for solace?--there were
Timothy and Fleta--one who performed the duty of a servant to me, and a
child. I felt that they were not sufficient, and my heart was chilled.

The surgeon had, in the meantime, returned to the Major, and dressed the
wound. The Major, who had recovered from his weakness, asked him his
candid opinion. "We must hope for the best, sir," replied the surgeon.

"That is to say, there is no hope," replied the Major; "and I feel that
you are right. How long do you think that I may live?"

"If the wound does not take a favourable turn, about forty-eight hours,
sir," replied the surgeon; "but we must hope for a more fortunate
issue."

"In a death-bed case you medical men are like lawyers," replied the
Major, "there is no getting a straightforward answer from you. Where is
Mr Newland?"

"Here I am, Carbonnell," said I, taking his hand.

"My dear fellow, I know it is all over with me, and you, of course, know
it as well as I do. Do not think that it is a source of much regret to
me to leave this rascally world--indeed it is not; but I do feel sorry,
very sorry, to leave you. The doctor tells me I shall live forty-eight
hours; but I have an idea that I shall not live so many minutes. I feel
my strength gradually failing me. Depend upon it, my dear Newland, there
is an internal hemorrhage. My dear fellow, I shall not be able to speak
soon. I have left you my executor and sole heir. I wish there was more
for you--it will last you, however, till you come of age. That was a
lucky hit last night, but a very unlucky one this morning. Bury me like
a gentleman."

"My dear Carbonnell," said I, "would you not like to see somebody--a
clergyman?"

"Newland, excuse me. I do not refuse it out of disrespect, or because I
do not believe in the tenets of Christianity; but I cannot believe that
my repentance at this late hour can be of any avail. If I have not been
sorry for the life I have lived--if I have not had my moments of
remorse--if I have not promised to amend, and intended to have so done,
and I trust I have--what avails my repentance now? No, no, Japhet, as I
have sown so must I reap, and trust to the mercy of Heaven. God only
knows all our hearts, and I would fain believe that I may find more
favour in the eyes of the Almighty, than I have in this world from those
who--but we must not judge. Give me to drink, Japhet--I am sinking fast.
God bless you, my dear fellow."

The Major sank on his pillow, after he had moistened his lips, and spoke
no more. With his hand clasped in mine he gradually sank, and in a
quarter of an hour his eyes were fixed, and all was over. He was right
in his conjectures--an artery had been divided, and he had bled to
death. The surgeon came again just before he was dead, for I had sent
for him. "It is better as it is," said he to me. "Had he not bled to
death, he would have suffered forty-eight hours of extreme agony from
the mortification which must have ensued." He closed the Major's eyes
and took his leave, and I hastened into the drawing-room and sent for
Timothy, with whom I sate in a long conversation on this unfortunate
occurrence, and my future prospects.

My grief for the death of the Major was sincere; much may indeed be
ascribed to habit, from our long residence and companionship; but more
to the knowledge that the Major, with all his faults, had redeeming
qualities, and that the world had driven him to become what he had been.
I had the further conviction, that he was attached to me, and, in my
situation, anything like affection was most precious. His funeral was
handsome, without being ostentatious, and I paid every demand upon him
which I knew to be just--many, indeed, that were not sent in, from a
supposition that any claim made would be useless. His debts were not
much above L200, and these debts had never been expected to be
liquidated by those who had given him credit. The paper he had written,
and had been witnessed by Timothy and another, was a short will, in
which he left me his sole heir and executor. The whole of his property
consisted of his house in St James's Street, the contents of his
pocket-book entrusted to my care, and his personal effects, which,
especially in bijouterie, were valuable. The house was worth about
L4000, as he had told me. In his pocket-book were notes to the amount of
L3500, and his other effects might be valued at L400. With all his debts
and funeral expenses liquidated, and with my own money, I found myself
in possession of about L8000,--a sum which never could have been
credited, for it was generally supposed that he died worth less than
nothing, having lived for a long while upon a capital of a similar
value.

"I cannot but say," observed Timothy, "but that this is very fortunate.
Had the Major not persuaded you to borrow money, he never would have won
so large a sum. Had he lived he would have squandered it away; but just
in the nick of time he is killed, and makes you his heir."

"There is truth in your observation, Timothy; but now you must go to Mr
Emmanuel, that I may pay him off. I will repay the L1000 lent me by Lord
Windermear into his banker's, and then I must execute one part of the
poor Major's will. He left his diamond solitaire as a memento to his
lordship. Bring it to me, and I will call and present it."




Chapter XXXII

A chapter full of morality, which ends in a Jew refusing upwards of
L1000, proving the Millenium to be nearly at hand.


This conversation took place the day after the funeral, and, attired in
deep mourning, I called upon his lordship, and was admitted. His
lordship had sent his carriage to attend the funeral, and was also in
mourning when he received me. I executed my commission, and after a long
conversation with his lordship, in which I confided to him the contents
of the will, and the amount of property of the deceased, I rose to take
my leave.

"Excuse me, Mr Newland," said he, "but what do you now propose to do? I
confess I feel a strong interest about you, and had wished that you had
come to me oftener without an invitation. I perceive that you never
will. Have you no intention of following up any pursuit?"

"Yes, my lord, I intend to search after my father; and I trust that, by
husbanding my unexpected resources, I shall now be able."

"You have the credit, in the fashionable world, of possessing a large
fortune."

"That is not my fault, my lord: it is through Major Carbonnell's mistake
that the world is deceived. Still I must acknowledge myself so far
participator, that I have never contradicted the report."

"Meaning, I presume, by some good match, to reap the advantage of the
supposition."

"Not so, my lord, I assure you. People may deceive themselves, but I
will not deceive them."

"Nor undeceive them, Mr Newland?"

"Undeceive them I will not; nay, if I did make the attempt, I should
not be believed. They never would believe it possible that I could have
lived so long with your relative, without having had a large supply of
money. They might believe that I had run through my money, but not that
I never had any."

"There is a knowledge of the world in that remark," replied his
lordship; "but I interrupted you, so proceed."

"I mean to observe, my lord, and you, by your knowledge of my previous
history, can best judge how far I am warranted in saying so; that I have
as yet steered the middle course between that which is dishonest and
honest. If the world deceives itself, you would say that, in strict
honesty, I ought to undeceive it. So I would, my lord, if it were not
for my peculiar situation; but at the same time I never will, if
possible, be guilty of direct deceit; that is to say, I would not take
advantage of my supposed wealth, to marry a young person of large
fortune. I would state myself a beggar, and gain her affections as a
beggar. A woman can have little confidence in a man who deceives her
before marriage."

"Your secret will always be safe with me, Mr Newland; you have a right
to demand it. I am glad to hear the sentiments which you have expressed;
they are not founded, perhaps, upon the strictest code of morality; but
there are many who profess more who do not act up to so much. Still, I
wish you would think in what way I may be able to serve you, for your
life at present is useless and unprofitable, and may tend to warp still
more, ideas which are not quite so strict as they ought to be."

"My lord, I have but one object in allowing the world to continue in
their error relative to my means, which is, that it procures for me an
entrance into that society in which I have a moral conviction that I
shall find my father. I have but one pursuit, one end to attain, which
is, to succeed in that search. I return you a thousand thanks for your
kind expressions and good-will; but I cannot, at present, avail myself
of them. I beg your lordship's pardon, but did you ever meet the lady
with the ear-rings?"

Lord Windermear smiled. "Really, Mr Newland, you are a very strange
person; not content with finding out your own parents, you must also be
searching after other people's; not that I do not commend your conduct
in this instance; but I'm afraid, in running after shadows, you are too
indifferent to the substance."

"Ah, my lord! it is very well for you to argue who have had a father and
mother, and never felt the want of them; but if you knew how my heart
yearns after my parents, you would not be surprised at my perseverance."

"I am surprised at nothing in this world, Mr Newland; every one pursues
happiness in his own way; your happiness appears to be centred in one
feeling, and you are only acting as the world does in general; but
recollect that the search after happiness ends in disappointment."

"I grant it but too often does, my lord; but there is pleasure in the
chase," replied I.

"Well, go, and may you prosper. All I can say is this, Mr Newland, do
not have that false pride not to apply to me when you need assistance.
Recollect, it is much better to be under an obligation, if such you will
consider it, than to do that which is wrong; and that it is a very false
pride which would blush to accept a favour, and yet not blush to do what
it ought to be ashamed of. Promise me, Mr Newland, that upon any reverse
or exigence, you will apply to me."

"I candidly acknowledge to your lordship, that I would rather be under
an obligation to anyone but you; and I trust you will clearly appreciate
my feelings. I have taken the liberty of refunding the one thousand
pounds you were so kind as to place at my disposal as a loan. At the
same time I will promise, that, if at any time I should require your
assistance, I will again request leave to become your debtor." I rose
again to depart.

"Farewell, Newland; when I thought you had behaved ill, and I offered to
better you, you only demanded my good opinion; you have it, and have it
so firmly, that it will not easily be shaken." His lordship then shook
hands with me, and I took my leave.

On my return I found Emmanuel, the money-lender, who had accompanied
Timothy, fancying that I was in want of more assistance, and but too
willing to give it. His surprise was very great when I told him that I
wished to repay the money I had borrowed.

"Vell, dis is very strange! I have lent my monish a tousand times, and
never once they did offer it me back. Vell, I will take it, sar."

"But how much must I give you, Mr Emmanuel, for the ten days' loan?"

"How moch--vy you remember, you vill give de bond money--de fifteen
hundred."

"What! five hundred pounds interest for ten days, Mr Emmanuel; no, no,
that's rather too bad. I will, if you please, pay you back eleven
hundred pounds, and that I think is very handsome."

"I don't want my monish, my good sar. I lend you one tousand pounds, on
de condition that you pay me fifteen hundred when you come into your
properties, which will be in very short time. You send for me, and tell
me you vish to pay back de monish directly; I never refuse monish--if
you wish to pay, I will take, but I will not take von farding less dan
de monish on de bond."

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