Japhet, In Search Of A Father by Frederick Marryat

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

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32

I soon found out that we were not only well fed, but in every other
point well treated, and I was very comfortable and happy. Mr Brookes
instructed me in the art of labelling and tying up, and in a very short
time I was very expert; and as Timothy predicted, the rudiments were
once more handed over to him. Mr Cophagus supplied me with good clothes,
but never gave me any pocket-money, and Timothy and I often lamented
that we had not even a halfpenny to spend.

Before I had been many months in the shop Mr Brookes was able to leave
when any exigence required his immediate attendance. I made up the
pills, but he weighed out the quantities in the prescriptions; if,
therefore, any one came in for medicines, I desired them to wait the
return of Mr Brookes, who would be in very soon. One day, when Mr
Brookes was out, and I was sitting behind the counter, Timothy sitting
on it, and swinging his legs to and fro, both lamenting that we had no
pocket-money, Timothy said, "Japhet, I've been puzzling my brains how we
can get some money, and I've hit it at last; let you and I turn doctors;
we won't send all the people away who come when Mr Brookes is out, but
we'll physic them ourselves."

I jumped at the idea, and he had hardly proposed it, when an old woman
came in, and addressing Timothy, said, "That she wanted something for
her poor grandchild's sore throat."

"I don't mix up the medicines, ma'am," replied Timothy; "you must apply
to that gentleman, Mr Newland, who is behind the counter--he understands
what is good for every body's complaints."

"Bless his handsome face--and so young too! Why, be you a doctor, sir?"

"I should hope so," replied I; "what is it you require--a lotion, or an
embrocation?"

"I don't understand those hard words, but I want some doctor's stuff."

"Very well, my good woman; I know what is proper," replied I, assuming
an important air. "Here, Timothy, wash out this vial very clean."

"Yes, sir," replied Timothy, very respectfully.

I took one of the measures, and putting in a little green, a little
blue, and a little white liquid from the medicine bottles generally used
by Mr Brookes, filled it up with water, poured the mixture into the
vial, corked, and labelled it, _haustus statim sumendus_, and handed it
over the counter to the old woman.

"Is the poor child to take it, or is it to rub outside?" inquired the
old woman.

"The directions are on the label;--but you don't read Latin?"

"Deary me, no! Latin! and do you understand Latin? What a nice clever
boy!"

"I should not be a good doctor if I did not," replied I. On second
thoughts, I considered it advisable and safer, that the application
should be _external_, so I translated the label to her--_Haustus_, rub
it in--_statim_, on the throat--_sumendus_, with the palm of the hand.

"Deary me! and does it mean all that? How much have I to pay, sir?"

"Embrocation is a very dear medicine, my good woman; it ought to be
eighteen-pence, but as you are a poor woman, I shall only charge you
nine-pence."

"I'm sure I thank you kindly," replied the old woman, putting down the
money, and wishing me a good morning as she left the shop.

"Bravo!" cried Timothy, rubbing his hands; "it's halves, Japhet, is it
not?"

"Yes," I replied; "but first we must be honest, and not cheat Mr
Cophagus; the vial is sold, you know, for one penny, and I suppose the
stuff I have taken is not worth a penny more. Now, if we put aside
two-pence for Mr Cophagus, we don't cheat him, or steal his property;
the other seven-pence is of course our own--being the _profits of the
profession_."

"But how shall we account for receiving the two-pence?" said Timothy.

"Selling two vials instead of one: they are never reckoned, you know."

"That will do capitally," cried Timothy; "and now for halves." But this
could not be managed until Timothy had run out and changed the sixpence;
we then each had our three-pence halfpenny, and for once in our lives
could say that we had money in our pockets.

Chapter III

I perform a wonderful cure upon St John Long's principle, having
little or no principle of my own--I begin to puzzle my head with a
problem; of all others most difficult to solve.

The success of our first attempt encouraged us to proceed; but afraid
that I might do some mischief, I asked of Mr Brookes the nature and
qualities of the various medicines, as he was mixing the prescriptions,
that I might avoid taking any of those which were poisonous. Mr Brookes,
pleased with my continual inquiries, gave me all the information I could
desire, and thus I gained, not only a great deal of information, but
also a great deal of credit with Mr Cophagus, to whom Mr Brookes had
made known my diligence and thirst for knowledge.

"Good--very good," said Mr Cophagus; "fine boy--learns his
business--M.D. one of these days--ride in his coach--um, and so on."
Nevertheless, at my second attempt, I made an awkward mistake, which
very nearly led to detection. An Irish labourer, more than half tipsy,
came in one evening, and asked whether we had such a thing as was called
"_A poor man's plaister_. By the powers, it will be a poor man's
plaister when it belongs to me; but they tell me that it is a sure and
sartain cure for the thumbago, as they call it, which I've at the small
of my back, and which is a hinder to my mounting up the ladder; so as
it's Saturday night, and I've just got the money, I'll buy the plaister
first, and then try what a little whiskey inside will do, the devil's in
it if it won't be driven out of me between the two."

We had not that plaister in the shop, but we had blister plaister, and
Timothy, handing one to me, I proffered it to him. "And what may you be
after asking for this same?" inquired he.

The blister plaisters were sold at a shilling each, when spread on
paper, so I asked him eighteen-pence, that we might pocket the extra
sixpence.

"By the powers, one would think that you had made a mistake, and handed
me the rich man's plaister, instead of the poor one's. It's less whiskey
I'll have to drink, anyhow; but here's the money, and the top of the
morning to ye, seeing as how it's jist getting late."

Timothy and I laughed as we divided the sixpence. It appeared that after
taking his allowance of whiskey, the poor fellow fixed the plaister on
his back when he went to bed, and the next morning found himself in a
condition not be envied. It was a week before we saw him again, and much
to the horror of Timothy and myself, he walked into the shop when Mr
Brookes was employed behind the counter. Timothy perceived him before he
saw us, and pulling me behind the large mortar, we contrived to make our
escape into the back parlour, the door of which we held ajar to hear
what would take place.

"Murder and turf!" cried the man, "but that was the devil's own plaister
that you gave me here for my back, and it left me as raw as a turnip,
taking every bit of my skin off me entirely, foreby my lying in bed for
a whole week, and losing my day's work."

"I really do not recollect supplying you with a plaister, my good man,"
replied Mr Brookes.

"Then by the piper that played before Moses, if you don't recollect it,
I've an idea that I shall never forget it. Sure enough, it cured me, but
wasn't I quite kilt before I was cured?"

"It must have been some other shop," observed Mr Brookes. "You have made
a mistake."

"Devil a bit of a mistake, except in selling me the plaister. Didn't I
get it of a lad in this same shop?"

"Nobody sells things out of this shop without my knowledge."

The Irishman was puzzled--he looked round the shop. "Well, then, if this
a'n't the shop, it was own sister to it."

"Timothy," called Mr Brookes.

"And sure enough there was a Timothy in the other shop, for I heard the
boy call the other by the name; however, it's no matter, if it took off
the skin, it also took away the thumbago, so the morning to you, Mr
Pottykarry."

When the Irishman departed, we made our appearance. "Japhet, did you
sell a plaister to an Irishman?"

"Yes--don't you recollect, last Saturday? and I gave you the shilling."

"Very true; but what did he ask for?"

"He asked for a plaister, but he was very tipsy. I showed him a blister,
and he took it;" and then I looked at Timothy and laughed.

"You must not play such tricks," said Mr Brookes. "I see what you have
been about--it was a joke to you, but not to him."

Mr Brookes, who imagined we had sold it to the Irishman out of fun, then
gave us a very severe lecture, and threatened to acquaint Mr Cophagus,
if ever we played such tricks again. Thus the affair blew over, and it
made me very careful; and, as every day I knew more about medicines, I
was soon able to mix them, so as to be of service to those who applied,
and before eighteen months had expired, I was trusted with the mixing up
all the prescriptions. At the end of that period Mr Brookes left us, and
I took the whole of his department upon myself, giving great
satisfaction to Mr Cophagus.

And now that I have announced my promotion, it will perhaps be as well
that I give the reader some idea of my personal appearance, upon which I
have hitherto been silent. I was thin, between fifteen and sixteen years
old, very tall for my age, and of my figure I had no reason to be
ashamed; a large beaming eye, with a slightly aquiline nose, a high
forehead, fair in complexion, but with very dark hair. I was always what
may be termed a remarkably clean-looking boy, from the peculiarity of my
skin and complexion; my teeth were small, but were transparent, and I
had a very deep dimple in my chin. Like all embryo apothecaries, I
carried in my appearance, if not the look of wisdom, most certainly that
of self-sufficiency, which does equally well with the world in general.
My forehead was smooth, and very white, and my dark locks were combed
back systematically, and with a regularity that said, as plainly as hair
could do, "The owner of this does everything by prescription,
measurement, and rule." With my long fingers I folded up the little
packets, with an air as thoughtful and imposing as that of a minister
who has just presented a protocol as interminable as unintelligible: and
the look of solemn sagacity with which I poured out the contents of one
vial into the other, would have well become the king's physician, when
he watched the "lord's anointed" in _articulo mortis_.

As I followed up my saturnine avocation, I generally had an open book on
the counter beside me; not a marble-covered dirty volume, from the
Minerva press, or a half-bound, half-guinea's worth of fashionable
trash, but a good, honest, heavy-looking, wisdom-implying book, horribly
stuffed with epithet of drug; a book in which Latin words were
redundant, and here and there were to be observed the crabbed characters
of Greek. Altogether, with my book and my look, I cut such a truly
medical appearance, that even the most guarded would not have hesitated
to allow me the sole conduct of a whitlow, from inflammation to
suppuration, and from suppuration to cure, or have refused to have
confided to me the entire suppression of a gumboil. Such were my
personal qualifications at the time that I was raised to the important
office of dispenser of, I may say, life and death.

It will not surprise the reader when I tell him that I was much noticed
by those who came to consult, or talk with, Mr Cophagus. "A very fine
looking lad that, Mr Cophagus," an acquaintance would say. "Where did
you get him--who is his father?"

"Father!" Mr Cophagus would reply, when they had gained the
back parlour, but I could overhear him, "father, um--can't
tell--love--concealment--child born--foundling hospital--put out--and so
on."

This was constantly occurring, and the constant occurrence made me
often reflect upon my condition, which otherwise I might, from the happy
and even tenor of my life, have forgotten. When I retired to my bed I
would revolve in my mind all that I had gained from the governors of the
hospital relative to myself.--The paper found in the basket had been
given to me. I was born in wedlock--at least, so said that paper. The
sum left with me also proved that my parents could not, at my birth,
have been paupers. The very peculiar circumstances attending my case,
only made me more anxious to know my parentage. I was now old enough to
be aware of the value of birth, and I was also just entering the age of
romance, and many were the strange and absurd reveries in which I
indulged. At one time I would cherish the idea that I was of a noble, if
not princely birth, and frame reasons for concealment. At others--but it
is useless to repeat the absurdities and castle buildings which were
generated in my brain from mystery. My airy fabrics would at last
disappear, and leave me in all the misery of doubt and abandoned hope.
Mr Cophagus, when the question was sometimes put to him, would say,
"Good boy--very good boy--don't want a father." But he was wrong, I did
want a father; and every day the want became more pressing, and I found
myself continually repeating the question, "_Who is my father?_"

Chapter IV

Very much puzzled with a new Patient, nevertheless take my degree
at fifteen as an M.D.; and what is still more acceptable, I pocket
the fees.

The departure of Mr Brookes, of course, rendered me more able to follow
up with Timothy my little professional attempts to procure pocket-money;
but independent of these pillages by the aid of pills, and making drafts
upon our master's legitimate profits, by the assistance of draughts from
his shop, accident shortly enabled me to raise the ways and means in a
more rapid manner. But of this directly.

In the meantime I was fast gaining knowledge; every evening I read
surgical and medical books, put into my hands by Mr Cophagus, who
explained whenever I applied to him, and I soon obtained a very fair
smattering of my profession. He also taught me how to bleed, by making
me, in the first instance, puncture very scientifically, all the larger
veins of a cabbage-leaf, until well satisfied with the delicacy of my
hand, and the precision of my eye, he wound up his instructions by
permitting me to breathe a vein in his own arm.

"Well," said Timothy, when he first saw me practising, "I have often
heard it said, there's no getting blood out of a turnip; but it seems
there is more chance with a cabbage. I tell you what, Japhet, you may
try your hand upon me as much as you please, for two-pence a go."

I consented to this arrangement, and by dint of practising on Timothy
over and over again, I became quite perfect. I should here observe, that
my anxiety relative to my birth increased every day, and that in one of
the books lent me by Mr Cophagus, there was a dissertation upon the
human frame, sympathies, antipathies, and also on those features and
peculiarities most likely to descend from one generation to another. It
was there asserted, that the _nose_ was the facial feature most likely
to be transmitted from father to son. As I before have mentioned, my
nose was rather aquiline; and after I had read this book, it was
surprising with what eagerness I examined the faces of those whom I met;
and if I saw a nose upon any man's face, at all resembling my own, I
immediately would wonder and surmise whether that person could be my
father. The constant dwelling upon the subject at last created a species
of monomania, and a hundred times a day I would mutter to myself, _"Who
is my father?"_ indeed, the very bells, when they rung a peal, seemed,
as in the case of Whittington, to chime the question, and at last I
talked so much on the subject to Timothy, who was my _Fidus Achates,_
and bosom friend, that I really believe, partial as he was to me, he
wished my father at the devil.

Our shop was well appointed with all that glare and glitter with which
we decorate the "_house of call_" of disease and death. Being situated
in such a thoroughfare, passengers would stop to look in, and
ragged-vested, and in other garments still more ragged, little boys
would stand to stare at the variety of colours, and the 'pottecary
gentleman, your humble servant, who presided over so many
labelled-in-gold phalanxes which decorated the sides of the shop.

Among those who always stopped and gazed as she passed by, which was
generally three or four times a day, was a well-dressed female,
apparently about forty years of age, straight as an arrow, with an
elasticity of step, and a decision in her manner of walking, which was
almost masculine, although her form, notwithstanding that it was tall
and thin, was extremely feminine and graceful. Sometimes she would fix
her eyes upon me, and there was a wildness in her looks, which certainly
gave a painful impression, and at the same time so fascinated me, that
when I met her gaze, the paper which contained the powder remained
unfolded, and the arm which was pouring out the liquid suspended.

She was often remarked by Timothy, as well as me; and we further
observed, that her step was not equal throughout the day. In her latter
peregrinations, towards the evening, her gait was more vigorous, but
unequal, at the same time that her gaze was more stedfast. She usually
passed the shop for the last time each day, about five o'clock in the
afternoon.

One evening, after we had watched her past, as we supposed, to return no
more till the ensuing morning, for this peeping in, on her part, had
become an expected occurrence, and afforded much amusement to Timothy,
who designated her as the "mad woman," to our great surprise, and to the
alarm of Timothy, who sprang over the counter, and took a position by my
side, she walked into the shop. Her eye appeared wild, as usual, but I
could not make out that it was insanity. I recovered my
self-possession, and desired Timothy to hand the lady a chair, begging
to know in what way I could be useful. Timothy walked round by the end
of the counter, pushed a chair near to her, and then made a hasty
retreat to his former position. She declined the chair with a motion of
her hand, in which there was much dignity, as well as grace, and placing
upon the counter her hands, which were small and beautifully white, she
bent forwards towards me, and said, in a sweet, low voice, which
actually startled me by its depth of melody, "I am very ill."

My astonishment increased. Why, I know not, because the exceptions are
certainly as many as the general rule, we always form an estimate of the
voice before we hear it, from the outward appearance of the speaker; and
when I looked up in her face, which was now exposed to the glare of the
argand lamp, and witnessed the cadaverous, pale, chalky expression on
it, and the crow's feet near the eyes, and wrinkles on her forehead, I
should have sooner expected to have heard a burst of heavenly symphony
from a thunder-cloud, than such music as issued from her parted lips.

"Good heavens, madam!" said I eagerly and respectfully, "allow me to
send for Mr Cophagus."

"By no means," replied she. "I come to you. I am aware," continued she
in an undertone, "that you dispense medicines, give advice, and receive
money yourself."

I felt very much agitated, and the blush of detection mounted up to my
forehead. Timothy, who heard what she said, showed his uneasiness in a
variety of grotesque ways. He drew up his legs alternately, as if he
were dancing on hot plates; he slapped his pockets, grinned, clenched
his fists, ground his teeth, and bit his lips till he made the blood
come. At last he sidled up to me, "She has been peeping and screwing
those eyes of her's into this shop for something. It's all up with both
of us, unless you can buy her off."

"I have, madam," said I, at last, "ventured to prescribe in some trivial
cases, and, as you say, received money when my master is not here; but I
am entrusted with the till."

"I know--I know--you need not fear me. You are too modest. What I would
request is, that you would prescribe for me, as I have no great opinion
of your master's talents."

"If you wish it, madam," said I, bowing respectfully.

"You have camphor julep ready made up, have you not?"

"Yes, madam," replied I.

"Then do me the favour to send the boy with a bottle to my house
directly." I handed down the bottle, she paid for it, and putting it
into Timothy's hands, desired him to take it to the direction which she
gave him. Timothy put on his hat, cocked his eye at me, and left us
alone.

"What is your name?" said she, in the same melodious voice.

"Japhet Newland, madam," replied I.

"Japhet--it is a good, a scriptural name," said the lady, musirg in half
soliloquy. "Newland--that sounds of mammon."

"This mystery is unravelled," thought I, and I was right in my
conjectures. "She is some fanatical methodist;" but I looked at her
again, and her dress disclaimed the idea, for in it there was much taste
displayed.

"Who gave you that name?" said she, after a pause.

The question was simple enough, but it stirred up a host of annoying
recollections; but not wishing to make a confidant of her, I gently
replied, as I used to do in the Foundling Hospital on Sunday
morning--"My godfathers and godmothers in my baptism, ma'am."

"My dear sir, I am very ill," said she, after a pause, "will you feel my
pulse?"

I touched a wrist, and looked at a hand that was worthy of being
admired. What a pity, thought I, that she should be old, ugly, and half
crazy!

"Do you not think that this pulse of mine exhibits considerable nervous
excitement? I reckoned it this morning, it was at a hundred and twenty."

"It certainly beats quick," replied I, "but perhaps the camphor julep
may prove beneficial."

"I thank you for your advice, Mr Newland," said she, laying down a
guinea, "and if I am not better, I will call again, or send for you.
Good-night."

She walked out of the shop, leaving me in no small astonishment. What
could she mean? I was lost in reverie, when Timothy returned. The guinea
remained on the counter.

"I met her going home," said he. "Bless me--a guinea--why, Japhet!" I
recounted all that had passed. "Well, then, it has turned out well for
us instead of ill, as I expected."

The _us_ reminded me that we shared profits on these occasions, and I
offered Timothy his half; but Tim, with all his _espieglerie_ was not
selfish, and he stoutly refused to take his share. He dubbed me an M.D.,
and said I had beat Mr Cophagus already, for he had never taken a
physician's fee.

"I cannot understand it, Timothy," said I, after a few minutes' thought.

"I can," replied Timothy. "She has looked in at the window until she has
fallen in love with your handsome face; that's it, depend upon it." As I
could find no other cause, and Tim's opinion was backed by my own
vanity, I imagined that such must be the case. "Yes, 'tis so," continued
Timothy, "as the saying is, there's money bid for you."

"I wish that it had not been by so ill-favoured a person, at all events,
Tim," replied I; "I cannot return her affection."

"Never mind that, so long as you don't return the money."

The next evening she made her appearance, bought, as before, a bottle of
camphor julep--sent Timothy home with it, and asking my advice, paid me
another guinea.

"Really, madam," said I, putting it back towards her, "I am not entitled
to it."

"Yes, you are," replied she. "I know you have no friends, and I also
know that you deserve them. You must purchase books, you must study, or
you never will be a great man." She then sat down, entered into
conversation, and I was struck with the fire and vigour of the remarks,
which were uttered in such a melodious tone.

Her visits, during a month, were frequent, and every time did she press
upon me a fee. Although not in love with her person, I certainly felt
very grateful, and moreover was charmed with the superiority of her
mind. We were now on the most friendly and confiding terms. One evening
she said to me, "Japhet, we have now been friends some time. Can I trust
you?"

"With your life, if it were necessary," replied I.

"I believe it," said she. "Then can you leave the shop and come to me
to-morrow evening?"

"Yes, if you will send your maid for me, saying that you are not well."

"I will, at eight o'clock. Farewell, then, till to-morrow."

Chapter V

My vanity receives a desperate wound, but my heart remains
unscathed--An anomaly in woman, one who despises beauty.

The next evening I left Timothy in charge, and repaired to her house; it
was very respectable in outward appearance, as well as its furniture. I
was not, however, shown up into the first floor, but into the room
below.

"Miss Judd will come directly, sir," said a tall, meagre,
puritanical-looking maid, shutting the door upon me. In a few minutes,
during which my pulse beat quick (for I could not but expect some
disclosure; whether it was to be one of love or murder, I hardly knew
which), Miss Aramathea Judd, for such was her christian name, made her
appearance, and sitting down on the sofa, requested me to take a seat by
her.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32