Japhet, In Search Of A Father by Frederick Marryat

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"I am surprised at your asking a question, sir, from the bench, to which,
if I answered, the reply might affect me considerably. I am here in a
false position, and cannot well help myself. I have no friends that I
choose to call, for I should blush that they should see me in such a
state, and under such imputations."

"Your relations, young man, would certainly not be backward. Who is
your father?"

"My father!" exclaimed I, raising up my hands and eyes. "My father!
Merciful God!--if he could only see me here--see to what he has reduced
his unhappy son," and I covered my face, and sobbed convulsively.

Chapter LIX

By the committing of magisterial mistakes I am personally and
penally committed--I prepare for my trial by calling in the
assistance of the tailor and the perfumer--I am resolved to die
like a gentleman.

"It is indeed a pity, a great pity," observed one of the magistrates,
"such a fine young man, and evidently, by his demeanour and language,
well brought up; but I believe," said he turning to the others, "we have
but one course; what say you, Mr Norman?"

"I am afraid that my opinion coincides with yours, and that the grand
jury will not hesitate to find a bill, as the case stands at present.
Let us, however, ask the witness Armstrong one question. Do you
positively swear to this young man being one of the persons who attacked
you?"

"It was not very light at the time, sir, and both the men had their
faces _smutted;_ but it was a person just his size, and dressed in the
ame way, as near as I can recollect."

"You cannot, therefore, swear to his identity?"

"No, sir; but to the best of my knowledge and belief, he is the man."

"Take that evidence down as important," said Mr Norman, "it will assist
him at his trial."

The evidence was taken down, and then my commitment to the county gaol
was made out. I was placed in a cart, between two constables, and driven
off. On my arrival I was put into a cell, and my money returned to me,
but the ring was detained, that it might be advertised. At last, I was
freed from the manacles, and when the prison dress was brought to me to
put on, in lieu of my own clothes, I requested leave from the gaoler to
wash myself, which was granted; and, strange to say, so unaccustomed had
I been to such a state of filth, that I felt a degree of happiness, as I
returned from the pump in the prison-yard, and I put on the prison dress
almost with pleasure; for degrading as it was, at all events, it was
new and clean. I then returned to my cell and was left to my meditations.

Now that my examination and committal were over, I became much more
composed, and was able to reflect coolly. I perceived the great
danger of my situation--how strong the evidence was against me--and
how little chance I had of escape. As for sending to Lord Windermear,
Mr Masterton, or those who formerly were acquainted with me, my pride
forbade it--I would sooner have perished on the scaffold. Besides,
their evidence as to my former situation in life, although it would
perhaps satisfactorily account for my possession of the money and the
ring, and for my disposing of my portmanteau--all strong presumptive
evidence against me--would not destroy the evidence brought forward as
to the robbery, which appeared to be so very conclusive to the bench of
magistrates. My only chance appeared to be in the footpad, who had not
escaped, acknowledging that I was not his accomplice, and I felt how much
I was interested in his recovery, as well as in his candour. The assizes
I knew were near at hand, and I anxiously awaited the return of the
gaoler, to make a few inquiries. At night he looked through the small
square cut out of the top of the door of the cell, for it was his duty
to go his rounds and ascertain if all his prisoners were safe. I then
asked him if I might be allowed to make a few purchases, such as pens,
ink, and paper, &c. As I was not committed to prison in punishment, but
on suspicion, this was not denied, although it would have been to those
who were condemned to imprisonment and hard labour for their offences;
and he volunteered to procure them for me the next morning. I then
wished him a good-night, and threw myself on my mattress. Worn out with
fatigue and distress of mind, I slept soundly, without dreaming, until
daylight the next morning. As I awoke, and my scattered senses were
returning, I had a confused idea that there was something which weighed
heavily on my mind, which sleep had banished from my memory. "What is
it?" thought I; and as I opened my eyes, so did I remember that I,
Japhet Newland, who but two nights before was pressing the down of
luxury in the same habitation as Lady de Clare and her lovely child,
was now on a mattress in the cell of a prison, under a charge which
threatened me with an ignominious death. I rose, and sat on the bed,
for I had not thrown off my clothes. My first thoughts were directed
to Timothy. Should I write to him? No, no! why should I make him
miserable?

If I was to suffer, it should be under an assumed name. But what name?
Here I was interrupted by the gaoler, who opened the door, and desired
me to roll up my mattress and bed-clothes, that they might, as was the
custom, be taken out of the cell during the day.

My first inquiry was, if the man who had been so much hurt was in the
gaol.

"You mean your 'complice," replied the gaoler. "Yes, he is here, and
has recovered his senses. The doctor says he will do very well."

"Has he made any confession?" inquired I.

The gaoler made no reply.

"I ask that question," continued I, "because if he acknowledges who was
his accomplice, I shall be set at liberty."

"Very likely," replied the man, sarcastically; "the fact is, there is
no occasion for king's evidence in this case, or you might get off by
crossing the water; so you must trust to your luck. The grand jury
meet to-day, and I will let you know whether a true bill is found
against you or not."

"What is the name of the other man?" inquired I.

"Well, you are a good un to put a face upon a matter, I will say. You
would almost persuade me, with that innocent look of yours, that you
know nothing about the business."

"Nor do I," replied I.

"You will be fortunate if you can prove as much, that's all."

"Still, you have not answered my question; what is the other man's name?"

"Well," replied the gaoler, laughing, "since you are determined I shall
tell you, I will. It must be news to you, with a vengeance. His name is
Bill Ogle, _alias_ Swamping Bill. I suppose you never heard that name
before?"

"I certainly never did," replied I.

"Perhaps you do not know your own name? Yet I can tell it you, for Bill
Ogle has blown upon you so far."

"Indeed," replied I; "and what name has he given to me?"

"Why, to do him justice, it wasn't until he saw a copy of the
depositions before the magistrates, and heard how you were nabbed in
trying to help him off, that he did tell it; and then he said, 'Well,
Phil Maddox always was a true un, and I'm mortal sorry that he's in
for't, by looking a'ter me.' Now do you know your own name?"

"I certainly do not," replied I.

"Well, did you ever hear of one who went by the name of Phil Maddox?"

"I never did," replied I; "and I am glad that Ogle has disclosed so much."

"Well, I never before met with a man who didn't know his own name, or had
the face to say so, and expect to be believed; but never mind, you are
right to be cautious, with the halter looking you in the face."

"O God! O God!" exclaimed I, throwing myself on the bedstead, and
covering up my face, "give me strength to bear even that, if so it
must be."

The gaoler looked at me for a time. "I don't know what to make of
him--he puzzles me quite, certainly. Yet it's no mistake."

"It is a mistake," replied I, rising; "but whether the mistake will be
found out until too late, is another point. However, it is of little
consequence. What have I to live for,--unless to find out who is my
father?"

"Find out your father! what's in the wind now? well, it beats my
comprehension altogether. But did not you say you wished me to get
you something?"

"Yes," replied I; and I gave him some money, with directions to
purchase me implements for writing, some scented wax, a tooth-brush,
and tooth-powder, eau de cologne, hair-brush and comb, razors, small
looking-glass, and various implements for my toilet.

"This is a rum world," said the man, repeating what I asked for, as I
put two guineas in his hand. "I've purchased many a article for a
prisoner, but never heard of such rattletraps afore; however, that be
all the same. You will have them, though what _ho de colum_ is I can't
tell, nor dang me if I shall recollect--not poison, be it, for that is
not allowed in the prison?"

"No, no," replied I, indulging in momentary mirth at the idea; "you may
inquire, and you will find that it's only taken by ladies who are
troubled with the vapours." "Now I should ha' thought that you'd have
spent your money in the cookshop, which is so much more natural. However,
we all have our fancies;" so saying, he quitted the cell, and locked the
door.

Chapter LX

I am condemned to be hung by the neck until I am dead, and to go
out of the world without finding out who is my father--Afterwards
my innocence is made manifest and I am turned adrift a maniac in
the high road.

It may appear strange to the reader that I sent for the above-mentioned
articles, but habit is second nature, and although two days before, when
I set out on my pilgrimage, I had resolved to discard these
superfluities, yet now in my distress I felt as if they would comfort me.
That evening, after rectifying a few mistakes on the part of the
good-tempered gaoler, by writing down what I wanted on the paper which
he had procured me, I obtained all that I required.

The next morning, he informed me that the grand jury had found a true
bill against me, and that on the Saturday next, the assizes would be
held. He also brought me the list of trials, and I found that mine would
be one of the last, and would not probably come on until Monday or
Tuesday. I requested him to send for a good tailor, as I wished to be
dressed in a proper manner, previous to appearing in court. As a prisoner
is allowed to go into court in his own clothes instead of the gaol dress,
this was consented to, and when the man came, I was very particular in my
directions, so much so, that it surprised him. He also procured me the
other articles I required to complete my dress, and on Saturday night I
had them all ready, for I was resolved that I would at least die as a
gentleman.

Sunday passed away, not as it ought to have passed, certainly. I
attended prayers, but my thoughts were elsewhere--how, indeed, could it
be otherwise? Who can control his thoughts? He may attempt so to do, but
the attempt is all that can be made. He cannot command them. I heard
nothing, my mind was in a state of gyration, whirling round from one
thing to the other, until I was giddy from intensity of feeling.

On Monday morning the gaoler came and asked me whether I would have legal
advice. I replied in the negative. "You will be called about twelve
o'clock, I hear," continued he; "it is now ten, and there is only one
more trial before yours, about the stealing of four geese and half a
dozen fowls."

"Good God!" thought I, "and am I mixed up with such deeds as these?" I
dressed myself with the utmost care and precision, and never was more
successful. My clothes were black, and fitted well. About one o'clock I
was summoned by the gaoler, and led between him and another to the
court-house, and placed in the dock. At first my eyes swam, and I could
distinguish nothing, but gradually I recovered. I looked round, for I
had called up my courage. My eyes wandered from the judge to the row of
legal gentlemen below him; from them to the well-dressed ladies who sat
in the gallery above; behind me I did not look. I had seen enough, and
my cheeks burned with shame. At last I looked at my fellow-culprit, who
stood beside me, and his eyes at the same time met mine. He was dressed
in the gaol clothes, of pepper and salt coarse cloth. He was a rough,
vulgar, brutal looking man, but his eye was brilliant, his complexion
was dark, and his face was covered with whiskers. "Good heavens,"
thought I, "who will ever imagine or credit that we have been
associates?"

The man stared at me, bit his lip, and smiled with contempt, but made no
further remark. The indictment having been read, the clerk of the court
cried out, "You, Benjamin Ogle, having heard the charge, say, guilty or
not guilty?"

"Not guilty," replied the man, to my astonishment.

"You, Philip Maddox, guilty or not guilty?" I did not answer.

"Prisoner," observed the judge in a mild voice, "you must answer,
guilty or not guilty. It is merely a form."

"My lord," replied I, "my name is not Philip Maddox."

"That is the name given in the indictment by the evidence of your
fellow-prisoner," observed the judge; "your real name we cannot pretend
to know. It is sufficient that you answer to the question of whether you,
the prisoner, are guilty or not guilty."

"Not guilty, my lord, most certainly," replied I, placing my hand to my
heart, and bowing to him.

The trial proceeded; Armstrong was the principal evidence. To my person
he would not swear. The Jew proved my selling my clothes, purchasing
those found in the bundle, and the stick, of which Armstrong possessed
himself. The clothes I had on at the time of my capture were produced in
court. As for Ogle, his case was decisive. We were then called upon for
our defence. Ogle's was very short. "He had been accustomed to fits all
his life--was walking to Hounslow, and had fallen down in a fit. It must
have been somebody else who had committed the robbery and had made off,
and he had been picked up in a mistake." This defence appeared to make
no other impression than ridicule, and indignation at the barefaced
assertion. I was then called on for mine.

"My lord," said I, "I have no defence to make except that which I
asserted before the magistrates, that I was performing an act of
charity towards a fellow-creature, and was, through that, supposed to
be an accomplice."

"Arraigned before so many upon a charge, at the bare accusation of which
my blood revolts, I cannot and will not allow those who might prove what
my life has been, and the circumstances which induced me to take up the
disguise in which I was taken, to appear in my behalf. I am unfortunate,
but not guilty. One only chance appears to be open to me, which is, in
the candour of the party who now stands by me. If he will say to the
court that he ever saw me before, I will submit without murmur to my
sentence."

"I'm sorry that you've put that question, my boy," replied the man, "for
I have seen you before;" and the wretch chuckled with repressed laughter.

I was so astonished, so thunderstruck with this assertion, that I held
own my head, and made no reply. The judge then summed up the evidence
to the jury, pointing out to them, that of Ogle's guilt there could be
no doubt, and of mine, he was sorry to say, but little. Still they must
bear in mind that the witness Armstrong could not swear to my person.
The jury, without leaving the box, consulted together a short time, and
brought in a verdict of guilty against Benjamin Ogle and Philip Maddox.
I heard no more--the judge sentenced us both to execution: he lamented
that so young and prepossessing a person as myself should be about to
suffer for such an offence: he pointed out the necessity of condign
punishment, and gave us no hopes of pardon or clemency. But I heard him
not--I did not fall, but I was in a state of stupor. At last, he wound up
his sentence by praying us to prepare ourselves for the awful change, by
an appeal to that heavenly Father--"Father!" exclaimed I, in a voice
which electrified the court, "did you say my father? O God! where is
he?" and I fell down in a fit. The handkerchiefs of the ladies were
applied to their faces, the whole court were moved, for I had, by my
appearance, excited considerable interest, and the judge, with a
faltering, subdued voice, desired that the prisoners might be removed.

"Stop one minute, my good fellow," said Ogle, to the gaoler, while
others were taking me out of court. "My lord, I've something rather
important to say. Why I did not say it before, you shall hear. You are
a judge, to condemn the guilty, and release the innocent. We are told
that there is no trial like an English jury, but this I say, that many
a man is hung for what he never has been guilty of. You have condemned
that poor young man to death. I could have prevented it if I had chosen
to speak before, but I would not, that I might prove how little there is
of justice. He had nothing to do with the robbery--Phil Maddox was the
man, and he is not Philip Maddox. He said that he never saw me before,
nor do I believe that he ever did. As sure as I shall hang, he is
innocent."

"It was but now, that when appealed to by him, you stated that you had
seen him before."

"So I did, and I told the truth--I had seen him before. I saw him go to
hold the gentleman's horse, but he did not see me. I stole his bundle
and his stick, which he left on the bench, and that's how they were found
in our possession. Now you have the truth, and you may either acknowledge
that there is little justice, by eating your own words, and letting him
free, or you may hang him, rather than acknowledge that you are wrong.
At all events, his blood will now be on your hands, and not mine. If
Phil Maddox had not turned tail, like a coward, I should not have been
here; so I tell the truth to save him who was doing me a kind act, and
to let him swing who left me in the lurch."

The judge desired that this statement might be taken down, that further
inquiry might be made, intimating to the jury, that I should be respited
for the present; but of all this I was ignorant. As there was no placing
confidence in the assertions of such a man as Ogle, it was considered
necessary that he should repeat his assertions at the last hour of his
existence, and the gaoler was ordered not to state what had passed to
me, as he might excite false hopes.

When I recovered from my fit, I found myself in the gaoler's parlour,
and as soon as I was able to walk, I was locked up in a condemned cell.
The execution had been ordered to take place on the Thursday, and I had
two days to prepare. In the meantime, the greatest interest had been
excited with regard to me. My whole appearance so evidently belied the
charge, that everyone was in my favour. Ogle was requestioned, and
immediately gave a clue for the apprehension of Maddox, who, he said,
he hoped would swing by his side.

The gaoler came to me the next day, saying, that some of the magistrates
wished to speak with me; but as I had made up my mind not to reveal my
former life, my only reply was, "That I begged they would allow me to
have my last moments to myself." I recollected Melchior's idea of
destiny, and imagined that he was right. "It was my destiny," thought
I: and I remained in a state of stupor. The fact was, that I was very
ill, my head was heavy, my brain was on fire, and the throbbing of my
heart could have been perceived without touching my breast.

I remained on the mattress all day, and all the next night, with my face
buried in the clothes! I was too ill to raise my head. On Wednesday
morning I felt myself gently pushed on the shoulder by some one; I
opened my eyes; it was a clergyman. I turned away my head, and remained
as before. I was then in a violent fever. He spoke for some time:
occasionally I heard a word, and then relapsed into a state of mental
imbecility. He sighed, and went away.

Thursday came, and the hour of death,--but time was by me unheeded, as
well as eternity. In the meantime Maddox had been taken, and the contents
of Armstrong's bundle found in his possession; and when he discovered
that Ogle had been evidence against him, he confessed to the robbery.

Whether it was on Thursday or Friday, I knew not then, but I was lifted
off the bed, and taken before somebody--something passed, but the fever
had mounted up to my head, and I was in a state of stupid delirium.
Strange to say, they did not perceive my condition, but ascribed it all
to abject fear of death. I was led away--I had made no answer--but I was
free.

Chapter LXI

When at the lowest spoke of Fortune's wheel, one is sure to rise
as it turns round--I recover my senses and find myself amongst
_Friends._

I think some people shook me by the hand, and others shouted as I walked
in the open air, but I recollect no more. I afterwards was informed that
I had been reprieved, that I had been sent for, and a long exhortation
delivered to me, for it was considered that my life must have been one
of error, or I should have applied to my friends, and have given my
name. My not answering was attributed to shame and confusion--my
glassy eye had not been noticed--my tottering step when led in by the
gaolers attributed to other causes; and the magistrates shook their
heads as I was led out of their presence. The gaoler had asked me
several times where I intended to go. At last, I had told him, _to seek
my father,_ and darting away from him, I had run like a madman down the
street. Of course he had no longer any power over me: but he muttered,
as I fled from him, "I've a notion he'll soon be locked up again, poor
fellow! it's turned his brain for certain."

As I tottered along, my unsteady step naturally attracted the attention
of the passers-by; but they attributed it to intoxication. Thus was I
allowed to wander away in a state of madness, and before night I was
far from the town. What passed, and whither I had bent my steps, I
cannot tell. All I know is, that after running like a maniac, seizing
everybody by the arm that I met, staring at them with wild and flashing
eyes; and sometimes in a solemn voice, at others in a loud, threatening
tone, startling them with the interrogatory, "Are you my father?" and
then darting away, or sobbing like a child, as the humour took me, I
had crossed the country, and three days afterwards I was picked up at
the door of a house in the town of Reading, exhausted with fatigue and
exposure, and nearly dead. When I recovered, I found myself in bed, my
head shaved, my arm bound up, after repeated bleedings, and a female
figure sitting by me.

"God in heaven! where am I?" exclaimed I, faintly.

"Thou hast called often upon thy earthly father during the time of thy
illness, friend," replied a soft voice. "It rejoiceth me much to hear
thee call upon thy Father which is in heaven. Be comforted, thou art in
the hands of those who will be mindful of thee. Offer up thy thanks in
one short prayer, for thy return to reason, and then sink again into
repose, for thou must need it much."

I opened my eyes wide, and perceived that a young person in a Quaker's
dress was sitting by the bed working with her needle; an open Bible was
on a little table before her. I perceived also a cup, and parched with
thirst, I merely said, "Give me to drink." She arose, and put a teaspoon
to my lips; but I raised my hand, took the cup from her, and emptied it.
O how delightful was that draught! I sank down on my pillow, for even
that slight exertion had overpowered me, and muttering, "God, I thank
thee!" I was immediately in a sound sleep, from which I did not awake
for many hours. When I did, it was not daylight. A lamp was on the table,
and an old man in a Quaker's dress was snoring very comfortably in the
arm-chair. I felt quite refreshed with my long sleep, and was now able
to recall what had passed. I remembered the condemned cell, and the
mattress upon which I lay, but all after was in a state of confusion.
Here and there a fact or supposition was strong in my memory; but the
intervals between were total blanks. I was, at all events, free, that I
felt convinced of, and that I was in the hands of the sect who denominate
themselves Quakers: but where was I? and how did I come here? I remained
thinking on the past, and wondering, until the day broke, and with the
daylight roused up my watchful attendant. He yawned, stretched his arms,
and rising from the chair, came to the side of my bed. I looked him in
the face. "Hast thou slept well, friend?" said he.

"I have slept as much as I wish, and would not disturb _you,"_ replied
I, "for I wanted nothing."

"Peradventure I did sleep," replied the man; "watching long agreeth not
with the flesh, although the spirit is most willing. Requirest thou
anything?"

"Yes," replied I, "I wish to know where I am?"

"Verily, thou art in the town of Reading in Berkshire, and in the house
of Phineas Cophagus."

"Cophagus!" exclaimed I; "Mr Cophagus, the surgeon and apothecary?"

"Phineas Cophagus is his name; he hath been admitted into our sect, and
hath married a daughter of our persuasion. He hath attended thee in thy
fever and thy frenzy, without calling in the aid of the physician,
therefore do I believe that he must be the man of whom thou speakest;
yet doth he not follow up the healing art for the lucre of gain."

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