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

Melchior, who had watched the departure of the gipsy, slowly approached
us. I observed him and Nattee, as they met, as I was certain that
something important had taken place. Melchior fixed his eyes upon
Nattee--she looked at him mournfully--folded her arms, and made a slight
bow as if in submission, and in a low voice, quoted from the Scriptures,
"Whither thou goest, I will go--thy people shall be my people, and thy
God my God." He then walked away with her: they sat down apart, and were
in earnest conversation for more than an hour.

"Japhet," said Melchior to me, after he had quitted his wife, "what I am
about to tell you will surprise you. I have trusted you with all I dare
trust any one, but there are some secrets in every man's life which had
better be reserved for himself and her who is bound to him by solemn
ties. We must now part. In a few days this camp will be broken up, and
these people will join some other division of the tribe. For me, you
will see me no more. Ask me not to explain, for I cannot."

"And Nattee," said I.

"Will follow my fortunes, whatever they may be--you will see her no
more."

"For myself I care not, Melchior; the world is before me, and remain
with the gipsies without you I will not; but answer me one
question--what is to become of little Fleta? Is she to remain with the
tribe, to which she does not belong, or does she go with you?"

Melchior hesitated. "I hardly can answer, but what consequence can the
welfare of a soldier's brat be to you?"

"Allowing her to be what you assert, Melchior, I am devotedly attached
to that child, and could not bear that she should remain here. I am sure
that you deceived me in what you stated, for the child remembers, and
has told me, anecdotes of her infancy, which proves that she is of no
mean family, and that she has been stolen from her friends."

"Indeed, is her memory so good?" replied Melchior, firmly closing his
teeth. "To Nattee or to me she has never hinted so much."

"That is very probable; but a stolen child she is, Melchior, and she
must not remain here."

"Must not."

"Yes; must not, Melchior; when you quit the tribe, you will no longer
have any power, nor can you have any interest about her. She shall then
choose--if she will come with me, I _will_ take her, and nothing shall
prevent me; and in so doing I do you no injustice, nor do I swerve in my
fidelity."

"How do you know that? I may have my secret reasons against it."

"Surely you can have no interest in a soldier's brat, Melchior?"

Melchior appeared confused and annoyed. "She is no soldier's brat; I
acknowledge, Japhet, that the child was stolen; but you must not,
therefore, imply that the child was stolen by me or by my wife."

"I never accused you, or thought you capable of it; and that is the
reason why I am now surprised at the interest you take in her. If she
prefers to go with you, I have no more to say, but if not, I claim her;
and if she consents, will resist your interference."

"Japhet," replied Melchior, after a pause, "we must not quarrel now that
we are about to part. I will give you an answer in half an hour."

Melchior returned to Nattee, and re-commenced a conversation with her,
while I hastened to Fleta.

"Fleta, do you know that the camp is to be broken up, and Melchior and
Nattee leave it together?"

"Indeed!" replied she, with surprise. "Then what is to become of you and
Timothy?"

"We must of course seek our fortunes where we can."

"And of me?" continued she, looking me earnestly in the face with her
large blue eyes. "Am I to stay here?" continued she, with alarm in her
countenance.

"Not if you do not wish it, Fleta; as long as I can support you I
will--that is, if you would like to live with me in preference to
Melchior."

"If I would like, Japhet; you must know I would like--who has been so
kind to me as you? Don't leave me, Japhet."

"I will not, Fleta; but on condition that you promise to be guided by
me, and to do all I wish."

"To do what you wish is the greatest pleasure that I have, Japhet--so I
may safely promise that. What has happened?"

"That I do not know more than yourself; but Melchior tells me that he
and Nattee quit the gipsy tents for ever."

Fleta looked round to ascertain if any one was near us, and then in a
low tone said, "I understand their language, Japhet, that is, a great
deal of it, although they do not think so, and I overheard what the
gipsy said in part, although he was at some distance. He asked for
Melchior; and when Nattee wanted to know what he wanted, he answered
that, '_he_ was dead;' then Nattee covered up her face. I could not hear
all the rest, but there was something about a _horse_."

_He_ was _dead_. Had then Melchior committed murder, and was obliged to
fly the country? This appeared to me to be the most probable, when I
collected the facts in my possession; and yet I could not believe it,
for except that system of deceit necessary to carry on his various
professions, I never found anything in Melchior's conduct which could be
considered as criminal. On the contrary, he was kind, generous, and
upright in his private dealings, and in many points, proved that he had
a good heart. He was a riddle of inconsistency it was certain;
professionally he would cheat anybody, and disregard all truth and
honesty; but, in his private character, he was scrupulously honest, and,
with the exception of the assertion relative to Fleta's birth and
parentage, he had never told me a lie, that I could discover. I was
summing up all these reflections in my mind, when Melchior again came up
to me, and desiring the little girl to go away, he said, "Japhet, I have
resolved to grant your request with respect to Fleta, but it must be on
conditions."

"Let me hear them."

"First, then, Japhet, as you always have been honest and confiding with
me, tell me now what are your intentions. Do you mean to follow up the
profession which you learnt under me, or what do you intend to do?"

"Honestly, then, Melchior, I do not intend to follow up that profession,
unless driven to it by necessity. I intend to seek my father."

"And if driven to it by necessity, do you intend that Fleta shall aid
you by her acquirements? In short, do you mean to take her with you as a
speculation, to make the most of her, to let her sink, when she arrives
at the age of woman, into vice and misery?"

"I wonder at your asking me that question, Melchior; it is the first act
of injustice I have received at your hands. No; if obliged to follow up
the profession, I will not allow Fleta so to do. I would sooner that she
were in her grave. It is to rescue her from that very vice and misery,
to take her out of a society in which she never ought to have been
placed, that I take her with me."

"And this upon your honour?"

"Yes, upon my honour. I love her as my sister, and cannot help indulging
in the hope that in seeking my father, I may chance to stumble upon
her's."

Melchior bit his lips. "There is another promise I must exact from you,
Japhet, which is, that to a direction which I will give you, every six
months you will inclose an address where you may be heard of, and also
intelligence as to Fleta's welfare and health."

"To that I gave my cheerful promise: but, Melchior, you appear to have
taken, all at once, a strange interest in this little girl."

"I wish you now to think that I do take an interest in her, provided you
seek not to inquire the why and the wherefore. Will you accept of funds
for her maintenance?"

"Not without necessity compels me; and then I should be glad to find,
when I can no longer help her, that you are still her friend."

"Recollect, that you will always find what is requisite by writing to
the address which I shall give you before we part. That point is now
settled, and on the whole I think the arrangement is good."

Timothy had been absent during the events of the morning--when he
returned, I communicated to him what had passed, and was about to take
place.

"Well, Japhet, I don't know--I do not dislike our present life, yet I am
not sorry to change it; but what are we to do?"

"That remains to be considered; we have a good stock of money,
fortunately, and we must husband it till we find what can be done."

We took our suppers all together for the last time, Melchior telling us
that he had determined to set off the next day. Nattee looked very
melancholy, but resigned; on the contrary, little Fleta was so
overjoyed, that her face, generally so mournful, was illuminated with
smiles whenever our eyes met. It was delightful to see her so happy. The
whole of the people in the camp had retired, and Melchior was busy
making his arrangements in the tent. I did not feel inclined to sleep; I
was thinking and revolving in my mind my prospects for the future;
sitting, or rather lying down, for I was leaning on my elbow, at a short
distance from the tents. The night was dark but clear, and the stars
were brilliant. I had been watching them, and I thought upon Melchior's
ideas of destiny, and dwelling on the futile wish that I could read
mine, when I perceived the approach of Nattee.

"Japhet," said she, "you are to take the little girl with you, I
find--will you be careful of her? for it would be on my conscience if
she were left to the mercy of the world. She departs rejoicing, let not
her joy end in tears. I depart sorrowing. I leave my people, my kin, my
habits, and customs, my influence, all--but it must be so, it is my
destiny. She is a good child, Japhet--promise me that you will be a
friend to her--and give her this to wear in remembrance of me, but--not
yet--not till we are gone--." She hesitated. "Japhet, do not let
Melchior see it in your possession; he may not like me having given it
away." I took the piece of paper containing the present, and having
promised all she required, "This is the last--yes--the very last time
that I may behold this scene," continued Nattee, surveying the common,
the tents, and the animals browsing. "Be it so; Japhet, good-night, may
you prosper!" She then turned away and entered her tent; and soon
afterwards I followed her example.

The next day, Melchior was all ready. What he had packed up was
contained in two small bundles. He addressed the people belonging to the
gang, in their own language. Nattee did the same, and the whole of them
kissed her hand. The tents, furniture, and the greatest part of his
other property, were distributed among them. Jumbo and Num were made
over to two of the principal men. Timothy, Fleta, and I, were also
ready, and intended to quit at the same time as Melchior and his wife.

"Japhet," said Melchior, "there is yet some money due to you for our
last excursion--(this was true,)--here it is --you and Timothy keep but
one purse, I am aware. Good-bye, and may you prosper!"

We shook hands with Nattee and Melchior. Fleta went up to the former,
and crossing her arms, bent her head. Nattee kissed the child, and led
her to Melchior. He stooped down, kissed her on the forehead, and I
perceived a sign of strongly suppressed emotion as he did so. Our
intended routes lay in a different direction, and when both parties had
arrived to either verge of the common, we waved our hands as a last
farewell, and resumed our paths again. Fleta burst into tears as she
turned away from her former guardians.

Chapter XVII

A Cabinet Council--I resolve to set up as a gentleman, having as
legitimate pretensions to the rank of one as many others.

I led the little sobbing girl by the hand, and we proceeded for some
time in silence. It was not until we gained the high road that Timothy
interrupted my reverie, by observing, "Japhet, have you at all made up
your mind what you shall do?"

"I have been reflecting, Timothy. We have lost a great deal of time. The
original intention with which I left London has been almost forgotten;
but it must be so no longer. I now have resolved that as soon as I have
placed this poor little girl in safety, that I will prosecute my search,
and never be diverted from it."

"I cannot agree with you that we have lost time, Japhet; we had very
little money when we started upon our expedition, and now we have
sufficient to enable you to prosecute your plans for a long time. The
question is, in what direction? We quitted London, and travelled west,
in imitation, as we thought, of the _wise men_. With all deference, in
my opinion, it was like _two fools_."

"I have been thinking upon that point also, Tim, and I agree with you. I
expect, from several causes, which you know as well as I do, to find my
father among the higher classes of society; and the path we took when we
started has led us into the very lowest. It appears to me that we cannot
do better than retrace our steps. We have the means now to appear as
gentlemen, and to mix in good company, and London is the very best place
for us to repair to."

"That is precisely my opinion, Japhet, with one single exception, which
I will mention to you; but first tell me, have you calculated what our
joint purses may amount to? It must be a very considerable sum."

I had not examined the packet in which was the money which Melchior had
given me at parting. I now opened it, and found, to my surprise, that
there were Bank notes to the amount of one hundred pounds. I felt that
he had given me this large sum that it might assist me in Fleta's
expenses. "With this sum," said I, "I cannot have much less than two
hundred and fifty pounds."

"And I have more than sixty," said Timothy. "Really, the profession was
not unprofitable."

"No," replied I, laughing; "but recollect, Tim, that we had no outlay.
The public provided us with food, our lodging cost us nothing. We have
had no taxes to pay; and at the same time have taxed folly and credulity
to a great extent."

"That's true, Japhet; and although I am glad to have the money, I am not
sorry that we have abandoned the profession."

"Nor am I, Tim; if you please, we will forget it altogether. But tell
me, what was the exception you were about to make?"

"Simply this. Although upwards of three hundred pounds may be a great
deal of money, yet, if we are to support the character and appearance of
gentlemen, it will not last for ever. For instance, we must have our
_valets_. What an expense that will be! Our clothes too--we shall soon
lose our rank and station in society, without we obtain a situation
under government."

"We must make it last as long as we can, Timothy; and trust to good
fortune to assist us."

"That's all very well, Japhet; but I had rather trust to our own
prudence. Now hear what I have to say. You will be as much assisted by a
_trusty_ valet as by any other means. I shall, as a gentleman, be only
an expense and an incumbrance; but as a valet I shall be able to play
into your hands, at the same time more than one half the expense will be
avoided. With your leave, therefore, I will take my proper situation,
put on your livery, and thereby make myself of the greatest use."

I could not help acknowledging the advantages to be derived from this
proposal of Timothy's; but I did not like to accept it.

"It is very kind of you, Timothy," replied I; "but I can only look upon
you as a friend and an equal."

"There you are right and are wrong in the same breath. You are right in
looking upon me as a friend, Japhet; and you would be still more right
in allowing me to prove my friendship as I propose; but you are wrong in
looking upon me as an equal, for I am not so either in personal
appearance, education, or anything else. We are both foundlings, it is
true; but you were christened after Abraham Newland, and I after the
workhouse pump. You were a gentleman foundling, presenting yourself with
a fifty pound note, and good clothes. I made my appearance in rags and
misery. If you find your parents, you will rise in the world; if I find
mine, I shall, in all probability, have no reason to be proud of them. I
therefore must insist upon having my own choice in the part I am to play
in the drama, and I will prove to you that it is my right to choose. You
forget that, when we started, your object was to search after your
father, and I told you mine should be to look after my mother. You have
selected high life as the expected sphere in which he is to be found,
and I select low life as that in which I am most likely to discover the
object of my search. So you perceive," continued Tim, laughing, "that we
must arrange so as to suit the views of both without parting company. Do
you hunt among bag-wigs, amber-headed canes, silks and satins--I will
burrow among tags and tassels, dimity and mob caps; and probably we
shall both succeed in the object of our search. I leave you to hunt in
the drawing-rooms, while I ferret in the kitchen. You may throw yourself
on a sofa and exclaim--'Who is my father?' while I will sit in the
cook's lap, and ask her if she may happen to be my mother."

This sally of Timothy's made even Fleta laugh; and after a little more
remonstrance, I consented that he should perform the part of my valet.
Indeed, the more I reflected upon it, the greater appeared the
advantages which might accrue from the arrangement. By the time that
this point had been settled, we had arrived at the town to which we
directed our steps, and took up our quarters at an inn of moderate
pretensions, but of very great external cleanliness. My first object was
to find out some fitting asylum for little Fleta. The landlady was a
buxom, good-tempered young woman, and I gave the little girl into her
charge, while Timothy and I went out on a survey. I had made up my mind
to put her to some good, but not very expensive, school, if such were to
be found in the vicinity. I should have preferred taking her with me to
London, but I was aware how much more expensive it would be to provide
for her there; and as the distance from the metropolis was but twenty
miles, I could easily run down to see her occasionally. I desired the
little girl to call me her brother, as such I intended to be to her in
future, and not to answer every question they might put to her. There
was, however, little occasion for this caution; for Fleta was, as I
before observed, very unlike children in general. I then went out with
Timothy to look for a tailor, that I might order our clothes, as what we
had on were not either of the very best taste, or in the very best
condition. We walked up the main street, and soon fell in with a
tailor's shop, over which was written in large letters--"Feodor
Shneider, Tailor to his Royal Highness the Prince of Darmstadt."

"Will that do, Japhet?" said Timothy, pointing to the announcement.

"Why yes," replied I; "but how the deuce the Prince of Darmstadt should
have employed a man in a small country town as his tailor, is to me
rather a puzzle."

"Perhaps he made his clothes when he was in Germany," replied Tim.

"Perhaps he did; but, however, he shall have the honour of making mine."

We entered the shop, and I ordered a suit of the most fashionable
clothes, choosing my colours, and being very minute in my directions to
the foreman, who measured me; but as I was leaving the shop the master,
judging by my appearance, which was certainly not exactly that of a
gentleman, ventured to observe that it was customary with _gentlemen_,
whom they had not the honour of knowing, to leave a deposit. Although
the very proposal was an attack upon my gentility, I made no reply; but
pulling out a handful of guineas, laid down two on the counter, and
walked away, that I might find another shop at which we might order the
livery of Timothy; but this was only as a reconnoitre, as I did not
intend to order his liveries until I could appear in my own clothes,
which were promised on the afternoon of the next day. There were,
however, several other articles to be purchased, such as a trunk,
portmanteau, hat, gloves, &c., all which we procured, and then went back
to the inn. On my return I ordered dinner. Fleta was certainly clad in
her best frock, but bad was the best; and the landlady, who could
extract little from the child, could not imagine who we could be. I had,
however, allowed her to see more than sufficient money to warrant our
expenses; and so far her scruples were, although her curiosity was not,
removed.

That evening I had a long conversation with Fleta. I told her that we
were to part, that she must go to school, and that I would very often
come down to see her. At first, she was inconsolable at the idea; but I
reasoned with her, and the gentle, intelligent creature acknowledged
that it was right. The next day my clothes came home, and I dressed
myself. "Without flattery, Japhet," said Timothy, "you do look very much
like a gentleman." Fleta smiled, and said the same. I thought so too,
but said nothing. Putting on my hat and gloves, and accompanied by
Timothy, I descended to go out and order Tim's liveries, as well as a
fit-out for Fleta.

After I was out in the street I discovered that I had left my
handkerchief, and returned to fetch it. The landlady, seeing a gentleman
about to enter the inn, made a very low courtesy, and it was not until I
looked hard at her that she recognised me. Then I was satisfied; it was
an involuntary tribute to my appearance, worth all the flattering
assertions in the world. We now proceeded to the other tailor's in the
main street. I entered the shop with a flourishing, important air, and
was received with many bows. "I wish," said I, "to have a suit of livery
made for this young man, who is about to enter into my service. I cannot
take him up to town this figure." The livery was chosen, and as I
expressed my wish to be off the next evening, it was promised to be
ready by an hour appointed.

I then went to a milliner's, and desired that she would call at the inn
to fit out a little girl for school, whose wardrobe had been left behind
by mistake. On the fourth day all was ready. I had made inquiries, and
found out a very respectable school, kept by a widow lady. I asked for
references, which were given, and I was satisfied. The terms were
low--twenty pounds per annum. I paid the first half year in advance, and
lodged fifty guineas more in the hands of a banker, taking a receipt for
it, and giving directions that it was to be paid to the schoolmistress
as it became due. I took this precaution, that should I be in poverty
myself, at all events Fleta might be provided in clothes and schooling
for three years at least. The poor child wept bitterly at the
separation, and I could with difficulty detach her little arms from my
neck, and I felt when I left her as if I had parted with the only
valuable object to me on earth.

All was now ready; but Timothy did not, as yet, assume his new clothes.
It would have appeared strange that one who sat at my table should
afterwards put on my livery; and as, in a small town there is always
plenty of scandal, for Fleta's sake, if for no other reason, it was
deferred until our arrival in London. Wishing the landlady good-bye, who
I really believed would have given up her bill to have known who we
could possibly be, we got on the outside of the stage-coach, and in the
evening arrived in the metropolis. I have been particular in describing
all these little circumstances, as it proves how very awkward it is to
jump, without observation, from one station in society to another.

Chapter XVIII

I receive a letter from my uncle by which I naturally expect to
find out who is my father--Like other outcasts, I am warned by a
dream.

But I have omitted to mention a circumstance of great importance, which
occurred at the inn the night before I placed Fleta at the
boarding-school. In looking over my portmanteau, I perceived the present
of Nattee to Fleta, which I had quite forgotten. I took it to Fleta, and
told her from whom it came. On opening the paper, it proved to contain a
long chain of round coral and gold beads, strung alternately; the gold
beads were not so large as the coral, but still the number of them, and
the purity of the metal, made them of considerable value. Fleta passed
the beads through her fingers, and then threw it round her neck, and sat
in deep thought for some minutes. "Japhet," said she at last, "I have
seen this--I have worn this before--I recollect that I have; it rushes
into my memory as an old friend, and I think that before morning it will
bring to my mind something that I shall recollect about it."

"Try all you can, Fleta, and let me know to-morrow."

"It's no use trying; if I try, I never can recollect anything. I must
wear it to-night, and then I shall have something come into my mind all
of a sudden; or perhaps I may dream something. Good-night."

It immediately occurred to me that it was most probable that the chain
had been on Fleta's neck at the time that she was stolen from her
parents, and might prove the means of her being identified. It was no
common chain--apparently had been wrought by people in a state of
semi-refinement. There was too little show for its value--too much
sterling gold for the simple effect produced; and I very much doubted
whether another like it could be found.

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