Japhet, In Search Of A Father by Frederick Marryat

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Timothy agreed with me. "I have seen you so unhappy of late--I may say,
so miserable--that I have neither eaten nor slept. Indeed, Japhet, I have
laid in bed and wept, for my happiness depends upon yours. Go where you
will, I am ready to follow and to serve you, and as long as I see you
comfortable, I care for nothing else."

These words of Timothy almost shook my resolution, and I was near
telling him all; but when I recollected, I refrained. "My dear Timothy,"
said I, "in this world we must expect to meet with a chequered
existence; we may laugh at one time, but we must cry at others. I owe
my life to you, and I never shall forget you, wherever I may be."

"No," replied Timothy, "you are not likely to forget one who is hardly
an hour out of your sight."

"Very true, Timothy; but circumstances may occur which may separate us."

"I cannot imagine such circumstances, nor do I believe, that bad as
things may turn out, that they will ever be so bad as that. You have
your money and your house; if you leave London, you will be able to add
to your income by letting your own apartments furnished, so we never
shall want; and we may be very happy running about the world, seeking
what we wish to find."

My heart smote me when Timothy said this, for I felt, by his devotion
and fidelity, he had almost the same claim to the property I possessed,
as myself. He had been my partner, playing the inferior game, for the
mutual benefit. "But the time may come, Timothy, when we may find
ourselves without money, as we were when we first commenced our career,
and shared three-pence halfpenny each, by selling the old woman the
embrocation."

"Well, sir, and let it come. I should be sorry for you, but not for
myself, for then Tim would be of more importance, and more useful, than
as valet with little or nothing to do."

I mentally exclaimed, 'I have, I think I have, been a fool, a great fool,
but the die is cast. I will sow in sorrow, and may I reap a harvest in
joy. I feel,' thought I (and I did feel), 'I feel a delightful
conviction, that we shall meet again, and all this misery of parting will
be but a subject of future garrulity.' "Yes, Tim," said I, in a loud
voice, "all is right."

"All's right, sir; I never thought anything was wrong, except your
annoyance at people not paying you the attention which they used to
do, when they supposed you a man of fortune."

"Very true; and Tim, recollect that if Mr Masterton speaks to you about
me, which he may after I am gone to Richmond, you tell him that before
I left, I paid that old scoundrel Emmanuel every farthing that I had
borrowed of him, and you know (and in fact so does Mr Masterton), how
it was borrowed."

"Well, sir, I will, if he does talk to me, but he seldom says much to
me."

"But he may, perhaps, Tim; and I wish him to know that I have paid every
debt I owe in the world."

"One would think that you were going to the East Indies, instead of to
Richmond, by the way you talk."

"No, Tim; I was offered a situation in the East Indies, and I refused
it; but Mr Masterton and I have not been on good terms lately, and I
wish him to know that I am out of debt. You know, for I told you all
that passed between Emmanuel and myself, how he accepted five hundred
pounds, and I paid him the thousand; and I wish Mr Masterton should
know it too, and he will then be better pleased with me."

"Never fear, sir," said Tim, "I can tell the whole story with
flourishes."

"No, Tim, nothing but the truth; but it is time I should go. Farewell,
my dear fellow. May God bless you and preserve you." And, overcome by
my feelings, I dropped my face on Timothy's shoulder, and wept. "What
is the matter? What do you mean, Japhet? Mr Newland--pray, sir, what
is the matter?"

"Timothy--it is nothing," replied I, recovering myself, "but I have
been ill; nervous lately, as you well know, and even leaving the last
and only friend I have, I may say for a few days, annoys and overcomes
me."

"Oh! sir--dear Japhet, do let us leave this house, and sell your
furniture, and be off."

"I mean that it shall be so, Tim. God bless you, and farewell." I went
downstairs, the hackney-coach was at the door. Timothy put in my
portmanteau, and mounted the box. I wept bitterly. My readers may despise
me, but they ought not; let them be in my situation, and feel that they
have one sincere faithful friend, and then they will know the bitterness
of parting. I recovered myself before I arrived at the coach, and shaking
hands with Timothy, I lost sight of him; for how long, the reader will
find out in the sequel of my adventures.

I arrived at Lady de Clare's, and hardly need say that I was well
received. They expressed their delight at my so soon coming again, and
made a hundred inquiries--but I was unhappy and melancholy, not at my
prospects, for in my infatuation I rejoiced at my anticipated
beggary--but I wished to communicate with Fleta, for so I still call
her. Fleta had known my history, for she had been present when I had
related it to her mother, up to the time that I arrived in London;
further than that she knew little. I was determined that before I
quitted she should know all. I dared not trust the last part to her when
I was present, but I resolved that I would do it in writing.

Lady de Clare made no difficulty whatever of leaving me with Fleta. She
was now a beautiful creature, of between fifteen, and sixteen, bursting
into womanhood, and lovely as the bud of the moss-rose; and she was
precocious beyond her years in _intellect_. I stayed there three days,
and had frequent opportunities of conversing with her; I told her that
I wished her to be acquainted with my whole life, and interrogated her
as to what she knew: I carefully filled up the chasms, until I brought
it down to the time at which I placed her in the arms of her mother. "And
now, Fleta," said I, "you have much more to learn--you will learn that
much at my departure. I have dedicated hours every night in writing it
out; and, as you will find, have analysed my feelings, and have pointed
out to you where I have been wrong. I have done it for my amusement, as
it may be of service even to a female."

On the third day I took my leave, and requesting the pony chaise of Lady
de Clare, to take me over to ----, that I might catch the first coach
that went westward, for I did not care which; I put into Fleta's hands
the packet which I had written, containing all that had passed, and I
bid her farewell.

"Lady de Clare, may you be happy," said I. "Fleta--Cecilia, I should
say, may God bless and preserve you, and sometimes think of your sincere
friend, Japhet Newland."

"Really, Mr Newland," said Lady de Clare, "one would think we were never
to see you again."

"I hope that will not be the case, Lady de Clare, for I know nobody to
whom I am more devoted."

"Then, sir, recollect we are to see you very soon."

I pressed her ladyship's hand, and left the house. Thus did I commence
my second pilgrimage.

Chapter LVII

My new career is not very prosperous at its commencement--I am
robbed, and accused of being a robber--I bind up wounds, and am
accused of having inflicted them--I get into a horse-pond, and
out of it into gaol.

I had proceeded half a mile from the house, when I desired the servant
to turn into a cross-road so as to gain Brentford; and, so soon as I
arrived, the distance being only four miles, I ordered him to stop at a
public-house, saying that I would wait till the coach should pass by. I
then gave him half-a-crown, and ordered him to go home. I went into the
inn with my portmanteau, and was shown into a small back parlour; there I
remained about half an hour reflecting upon the best plan that I could
adopt.

Leaving the ale that I had called for untasted, I paid for it, and, with
the portmanteau on my shoulder, I walked away until I arrived at an old
clothes' shop. I told the Jew who kept it, that I required some clothes,
and also wanted to dispose of my own portmanteau and all my effects. I
had a great rogue to deal with; but after much chaffering, for I now felt
the value of money, I purchased from him two pair of corduroy trousers,
two waistcoats, four common shirts, four pairs of stockings, a smock
frock, a pair of high-lows, and a common hat. For these I gave up all my
portmanteau, with the exception of six silk handkerchiefs, and received
fifty shillings, when I ought to have received, at least, ten pounds; but
I could not well help myself, and I submitted to the extortion. I
dressed myself in my more humble garments, securing my money in the
pocket of my trousers unobserved by the Jew, made up a bundle of the
rest, and procured a stick from the Jew to carry it on, however not
without paying him three-pence for it, he observing that the stick "wash
not in de bargain." Thus attired, I had the appearance of a countryman
well to do, and I set off through the long dirty main street of
Brentford, quite undecided and indifferent as to the direction I should
take. I walked about a mile, when I thought that it was better to come
to some decision previous to my going farther; and perceiving a bench in
front of a public-house, I went to it and sat down. I looked around,
and it immediately came to my recollection that I was sitting on the very
bench on which Timothy and I had stopped to eat our meal of pork, at our
first outset upon our travels. Yes, it was the very same! Here sat I,
and there sat Timothy, two heedless boys, with the paper containing the
meat, the loaf of bread, and the pot of beer between us. Poor Timothy! I
conjured up his unhappiness when he had received my note acquainting him
with our future separation. I remembered his fidelity, his courage in
defence, and his preservation of my life in Ireland, and a tear or two
coursed down my cheek.

I remained some time in a deep reverie, during which the various
circumstances and adventures of my life were passed in a rapid panorama
before me. I felt that I had little to plead in my own favour, much to
condemn--that I had passed a life of fraud and deceit. I also could not
forget that when I had returned to honesty, I had been scouted by the
world. "And here I am," thought I, "once more with the world before me;
and it is just that I should commence again, for I started in a wrong
path. At least, now I can satisfactorily assert that I am deceiving
nobody, and can deservedly receive no contumely. I am Japhet Newland,
and not in disguise." I felt happy with this reflection, and made a
determination, whatever my future lot might be, that, at least, I would
pursue the path of honesty. I then began to reflect upon another point,
which was, whither I should bend my steps, and what I should do to gain
my livelihood.

Alas! that was a subject of no little difficulty to me. A person who has
been brought up to a profession naturally reverts to that profession--but
to what had I been brought up? As an apothecary--true; but I well knew
the difficulty of obtaining employment in what is termed a liberal
profession, without interest or recommendation; neither did I wish for
close confinement, as the very idea was irksome. As a mountebank, a
juggler, a quack doctor--I spurned the very idea. It was a system of
fraud and deceit. What then could I do? I could not dig, to beg I was
ashamed. I must trust to the chapter of accidents, and considering how
helpless I was, such trust was but a broken reed. At all events, I had a
sufficient sum of money, upwards of twenty pounds, to exist upon with
economy for some time. I was interrupted by a voice calling out, "Hilloa!
my lad, come and hold this horse a moment." I looked up and perceived a
person on horseback looking at me. "Do you hear, or are you stupid?"
cried the man. My first feeling was to knock him down for his
impertinence, but my bundle lying beside, reminded me of my situation
and appearance, and I rose and walked towards the horse. The gentleman,
for such he was in appearance, dismounted, and throwing the rein on the
horse's neck, told me to stand by him for half a minute. He went into a
respectable-looking house opposite the inn, and remained nearly half an
hour, during which I was becoming very impatient, and kept an anxious eye
upon my bundle, which lay on the seat. At last he came out, and mounting
his horse looked in my face with some degree of surprise. "Why, what are
you?" said he, as he pulled out a sixpence, and tendered it to me.

I was again nearly forgetting myself, affronted at the idea of sixpence
being offered to me; but I recovered myself, saying, as I took it, "A
poor labouring man, sir."

"What, with those hands?" said he, looking at them as I took the money;
and then looking at my face, he continued, "I think we have met before,
my lad--I cannot be sure; you know best--I am a Bow Street magistrate."

In a moment, I remembered that he was the very magistrate before whom I
had twice made my appearance. I coloured deeply, and made no reply.

"Well, my lad, I'm not on my bench now, and this sixpence you have earned
honestly. I trust you will continue in the right path. Be careful--I have
sharp eyes." So saying, he rode off.

I never felt more mortified. It was evident that he considered me as one
who was acting a part for unworthy purposes; perhaps one of the swell
mob or a flash pickpocket rusticating until some hue and cry was over.
"Well, well," thought I, as I took up a lump of dirt and rubbed over my
then white hands, "it is my fate to be believed when I deceive, and to
be mistrusted when I am acting honestly;" and I returned to the bench
for my bundle, which--was gone. I stared with astonishment. "Is it
possible?" thought I. "How dishonest people are! Well, I will not carry
another for the present. They might as well have left me my stick." So
thinking, and without any great degree of annoyance at the loss, I turned
from the bench and walked away, I knew not whither. It was now getting
dark, but I quite forgot that it was necessary to look out for a lodging;
the fact is, that I had been completely upset by the observations of the
magistrate, and the theft of my bundle; and, in a sort of brown study,
from which I was occasionally recalled for a moment by stumbling over
various obstructions, I continued my walk on the pathway until I was
two or three miles away from Brentford. I was within a mile of Hounslow,
when I was roused by the groans of some person, and it being now dark
I looked round, trying to catch by the ear the direction in which to
offer my assistance. They proceeded from the other side of a hedge, and
I crawled through, where I found a man lying on the ground, covered with
blood about the head, and breathing heavily. I untied his _neckcloth_,
and, as well as I could, examined his condition. I bound his handkerchief
round his head, and perceiving that the position in which he was lying
was very unfavourable, his head and shoulders being much lower than his
body, I was dragging the body round so as to raise those parts, when I
heard footsteps and voices. Shortly after, four people burst through the
hedge and surrounded me.

"That is him, I'll swear to it," cried an immense stout man, seizing me;
"that is the other fellow who attacked me, and ran away. He has come to
get off his accomplice, and now we've just nicked them both."

"You are very much mistaken," replied I, "and you have no need to hold
me so tight. I heard the man groan, and I came to his assistance."

"That gammon won't do," replied one of them, who was a constable; "you'll
come along with us, and we may as well put on the _darbies_," continued
he, producing a pair of handcuffs.

Indignant at the insult, I suddenly broke from him who held me, and
darting at the constable, knocked him down, and then took to my heels
across the ploughed field. The whole four pursued, but I rather gained
upon them, and was in hopes to make my escape. I ran for a gap I perceived
in the hedge, and sprang over it, without minding the old adage, of "look
before you leap;" for, when on the other side, I found myself in a deep
and stagnant pit of water and mud. I sank over head, and with difficulty
extricated myself from the mud at the bottom, and when at the surface I
was equally embarrassed with the weeds at the top, among which I
floundered. In the meantime my pursuers, warned by the loud splash, had
paused when they came to the hedge, and perceiving my situation, were at
the brink of the pit watching for my coming out. All resistance was
useless. I was numbed with cold and exhausted by my struggles, and when
I gained the bank I surrendered at discretion.

Chapter LVIII

Worse and worse--If out of gaol, it will be to go out of the
world--I am resolved to take my secret with me.

The handcuffs were now put on without resistance on my part, and I was
led away to Hounslow by the two constables, while the others returned
to secure the wounded man. On my arrival I was thrust into the clink,
or lock-up house, as the magistrates would not meet that evening, and
there I was left to my reflections. Previously, however, to this, I was
searched, and my money, amounting, as I before stated, to upwards of
twenty pounds, taken from me by the constables, and what I had quite
forgotten, a diamond solitaire ring, which I had intended to have left
with my other bijouterie for Timothy, but in my hurry, when I left
London, I had allowed to remain upon my finger. The gaol was a square
building, with two unglazed windows secured with thick iron bars, and
the rain having beat in, it was more like a pound for cattle, for it
was not even paved, and the ground was three or four inches deep in mud.
There was no seat in it, and there I was the whole of the night walking
up and down shivering in my wet clothes, in a state of mind almost
bordering upon insanity. Reflect upon what was likely to happen, I could
not. I only ran over the past. I remembered what I had been, and felt
cruelly the situation I then was in. Had I deserved it? I thought not.
"Oh! father--father!" exclaimed I, bitterly, "see to what your son is
brought--handcuffed as a felon! God have mercy on my brain, for I feel
that it is wandering. Father, father--alas, I have none!--had you left
me at the asylum, without any clue, or hopes of a clue, to my hereafter
being reclaimed, it would have been a kindness; I should then have been
happy and contented in some obscure situation; but you raised hopes
only to prostrate them--and imaginings which have led to my destruction.
Sacred is the duty of a parent, and heavy must be the account of those
who desert their children, and are required by Heaven to render up an
account of the important trust. Couldst thou, oh! father, but now behold
thy son! God Almighty!--but I will not curse you, father! No, no"--and I
burst into tears, as I leant against the damp walls of the prison.

The day at last broke, and the sun rose, and poured his beaming rays
through the barred windows. I looked at myself, and was shocked at my
appearance; my smock-frock was covered with black mud, my clothes were
equally disfigured. I had lost my hat when in the water, and I felt the
dry mud cracking on my cheeks. I put my hands up to my head, and I
pulled a quantity of duck-weed out of my matted and tangled hair. I
thought of the appearance I should make when summoned before the
magistrates, and how much it would go against me. "Good God!" thought I,
"who, of all the world of fashion--who, of all those who once caught my
salutation so eagerly--who, of all those worldly-minded girls, who smiled
upon me but one short twelve months since, would imagine, or believe,
that Japhet Newland could ever have sunk so low--and how has he so
fallen? Alas! because he would be honest, and had strength of mind
enough to adhere to his resolution. Well, well, God's will be done; I
care not for life; but still an ignominious death--to go out of the
world like a dog, and that too without finding out who is my father."
And I put my fettered hands up and pressed my burning brow, and remained
in a sort of apathetic sullen mood, until I was startled by the opening
of the door, and the appearance of the constables. They led me out
among a crowd, through which, with difficulty, they could force their
way, and followed by the majority of the population of Hounslow, who
made their complimentary remarks upon the _footpad_, I was brought
before the magistrates. The large stout man was then called up to give
his evidence, and deposed as follows:--

"That he was walking to Hounslow from Brentford, whither he had been
to purchase some clothes, when he was accosted by two fellows in
smock-frocks, one of whom carried a bundle in his left hand. They
asked him what o'clock it was; and he took out his watch to tell them,
when he received a blow from the one with the bundle (this one, sir,
said he, pointing to me), on the back of his head; at the same time
the other (the wounded man who was now in custody) snatched his
watch.--That at the time he had purchased his clothes at Brentford,
he had also bought a bag of shot, fourteen pounds weight, which he
had, for the convenience of carrying, tied up with the clothes in the
bundle, and perceiving that he was about to be robbed, he had swung his
bundle round his head, and with the weight of the shot, had knocked
down the man who had snatched at his watch. He then turned to the other
(me) who backed from him, and struck at him with his stick. (The stick
was here produced, and when I cast my eye on it, I was horrified to
perceive that it was the very stick which I had bought of the Jew, for
three-pence, to carry my bundle on.) He had closed in with me, and was
wresting the stick out of my hand, when the other man, who had recovered
his legs, again attacked him with another stick. In the scuffle he had
obtained my stick, and I had wrested from him his bundle, with which,
as soon as he had knocked down my partner, I ran off. That he beat my
partner until he was insensible, and then found that I had left my own
bundle, which in the affray I had thrown on one side." He then made the
best of his way to Hounslow to give the information. His return and
finding me with the other man is already known to the readers.

The next evidence who came forward was the Jew, from whom I had bought
the clothes and sold my own. He narrated all that had occurred, and
swore to the clothes in the bundle left by the footpad, and to the stick
which he had sold to me. The constable then produced the money found
about my person and the diamond solitaire ring, stating my attempt to
escape when I was seized. The magistrate then asked me whether I had
anything to say in my defence, cautioning me not to commit myself.

I replied, that I was innocent; that it was true that I had sold my own
clothes, and had purchased those of the Jew, as well as the stick: that
I had been asked to hold the horse of a gentleman when sitting on a
bench opposite a public-house, and that some one had stolen my bundle
and my stick. That I had walked on towards Hounslow, and, in assisting
a fellow-creature, whom I certainly had considered as having been
attacked by others, I had merely yielded to the common feelings of
humanity--that I was seized when performing that duty, and should
willingly have accompanied them to the magistrate's, had not they
attempted to put on handcuffs, at which my feelings were roused, and I
knocked the constable down, and made my attempt to escape.

"Certainly, a very ingenious defence," observed one of the magistrates;
"pray where--!" At this moment the door opened, and in came the very
gentleman, the magistrate at Bow Street, whose horse I had held. "Good
morning, Mr Norman, you have just come in time to render us your
assistance. We have a very deep hand to deal with here, or else a very
injured person, I cannot tell which. Do us the favour to look over these
informations and the defence of the prisoner, previous to our asking him
any more questions."

The Bow Street magistrate complied, and then turned to me, but I was so
disguised with mud, that he could not recognise me. "You are the
gentleman, sir, who asked me to hold your horse," said I. "I call you to
witness, that that part of my assertion is true."

"I do now recollect that you are the person," replied he, "and you may
recollect the observation I made, relative to your hands, when you stated
that you were a poor countryman."

"I do, sir, perfectly," replied I.

"Perhaps then you will inform us by what means a diamond ring and twenty
pounds in money came into your possession?"

"Honestly, sir," replied I.

"Will you state, as you are a poor countryman, with whom you worked
last--what parish you belong to--and whom you can bring forward in proof
of good character?"

"I certainly shall not answer those questions," replied I; "if I chose I
might so do, and satisfactorily."

"What is your name?"

"I cannot answer that question either, sir," replied I.

"I told you yesterday that we had met before; was it not at Bow Street?"

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