Chapter 3

A SERMON FOR SUNDAY

In 1867 Posh sold the old _William Tell_ to be broken up. She was barely seaworthy and unfit to continue fishing. An agreement was entered into with Dan Fuller, a Lowestoft boat-builder, for a new lugger to be built, on lines supplied by Posh, at a total cost (including spars) of 360 pounds. FitzGerald had suggested that the boat should be built by a Mr. Hunt, of Aldeburgh, but Posh persuaded him to consent to Lowestoft and Dan Fuller instead. "I can look arter 'em better," said he, with some show of reason.

The agreement was, in the first instance, between Dan Fuller and Posh, but FitzGerald took a fancy to become partner with Posh in the boat and her profits. He was to find the money for the new lugger, and to let the sums already due from Posh remain in the partnership, while Posh was to bring in the nets and gear he had.

But by this time FitzGerald had seen symptoms in Posh which caused him anxiety. He loved his humble friend, and his anxiety was on account of the man and not on account of the possibilities of pecuniary loss incurred through Posh's weakness. On December the 4th, 1866, he wrote to Mr. Spalding, of Woodbridge: "At eight or half-past I go to have a pipe at Posh's, if he isn't half-drunk with his Friends" (_Two Suffolk Friends_, p. 107).

On January 5th, 1867, he wrote to the same correspondent (_Two Suffolk Friends_, p. 108) referring to Posh: "This very day he signs an Agreement for a new Herring-lugger, of which he is to be Captain, and to which he will contribute some Nets and Gear. . . . I believe I have smoked my pipe every evening but one with Posh at his house, which his quiet little Wife keeps tidy and pleasant. The Man is, I do think, of a Royal Nature. I have told him he is liable to one Danger (the Hare with many Friends)--so many wanting him _to drink_. He says it's quite true and that he is often obliged to run away: as I believe he does: for his House shows all Temperance and Order. This little lecture I give him--to go the way, I suppose, of all such Advice. . . ."

I fear that poor Posh's limbs soon grew too stiff to permit him to run away from the good brown "bare." But the lecture which FitzGerald mentions so casually was surely one of the most delicately written warnings ever penned. The sterling kindness of the writer is as transparent in it as is his tenderness to an inferior's feelings. No one but a very paragon of a gentleman would have taken the trouble to write so wisely, so kindly, so tenderly, and so earnestly. The appeal must surely have moved Posh, for the pathos of the reference to his patron's loneliness could not but have its effect.

But to touch on the sacred "bare" of a Lowestoft fisherman is always dangerous. There are many teetotallers among them now, and they would resent any imputation on their temperance. But those who are not teetotallers would resent it much more. FitzGerald warned his friend in as beautiful a letter as was ever written. But Posh could never regard the "mild bare," the "twopenny" of the district, as an enemy. He rarely touched spirits. Now, at the age of sixty-nine, he enjoys his mild beer more than anything and cares little for stronger stuff. But there is no doubt that this same mild beer inserted the edge of the adze which was to split the partnership in a little more than three years' time--this and the "interfarin' parties," whom Posh blames for all the misunderstandings which were to come.

"MARKETHILL, WOODBRIDGE, _Thursday_.

"MY DEAR POSHY,

"My Lawyer can easily manage the Assignment of the Lugger to me, leaving the Agreement as it is between you and Fuller. But you must send the Agreement here for him to see.

"As we shall provide that the Lugger when built shall belong to me; so we will provide that, in case of my dying _before_ she is built, you may come on my executors for any money due.

"I think you will believe that I shall propose, and agree to, nothing which is not for your good. For surely I should not have meddled with it at all, but for that one purpose.

"And now, Poshy, I mean to read you a short Sermon, which you can keep till Sunday to read. You know I told you of _one_ danger--and I do think the only one--you are liable to--_Drink_.

"I do not the least think you are _given_ to it: but you have, and will have, so many friends who will press you to it: perhaps _I_ myself have been one. And when you keep so long without _food_; _could_ you do so, Posh, without a Drink--of some your bad Beer [_sic_] too--now and then? And then, does not the Drink--and of bad Stuff--take away Appetite for the time? And will, if continued, so spoil the stomach that it will not bear anything _but_ Drink. And this evil comes upon us gradually, without our knowing how it grows. That is why I warn you, Posh. If I am wrong in thinking you want my warning, you must forgive me, believing that I should not warn at all if I were not much interested in your welfare. I know that you do your best to keep out at sea, and watch on shore, for anything that will bring home something for Wife and Family. But do not do so at any such risk as I talk of.

"I say, I tell you all this for your sake: and something for my own also--not as regards the Lugger--but because, thinking you, as I do, so good a Fellow, and being glad of your Company; and taking _Pleasure_ in seeing you prosper; I should now be sorely vext if you went away from what I believe you to be. Only, whether you do well or ill, _show me all above-board_, as I really think you have done; and do not let a poor old, solitary, and sad Man (as I really am, in spite of my Jokes), do not, I say, let me waste my Anxiety in vain.

"I thought I had done with new Likings: and I had a more easy Life perhaps on that account: _now_ I shall often think of you with uneasiness, for the very reason that I have so much Liking and Interest for you.

"There--the Sermon is done, Posh. You _know_ I am not against Good Beer while at Work: nor a cheerful Glass after work: only do not let it spoil the stomach, or the Head.

"Your's truly, "E. FG."