Chapter 11

"But I'm telling ye," said Harvey; "and what is more, there's Labouchere: he's a queer 'un. He has a paper they call _Truth_, and he writes all about the Queen and the aristocracy. He knows everything about them, and doesn't care a damn for anybody. He's been had up for libel many a time, but that never makes any difference. He goes on worse. They call him a Radical. He belongs to that lot that wants everything for themselves."

"But what about them Prussians wantin' to steal Denmark? What do you call that but cowardly work; and had it not been that Austria, the other bully, came to their assistance, the little Danes had the Prussians by the throat, and then, like all bullies, they fell out about the spoil and began to fight among themselves. No wonder that the Germans are hated; everybody liked the Danes. And where was your England then? Was she frightened of Von Bismarck? Yes, I says; yes! Was Palmerston frightened of him or of all the Prussians in the world? No, certainly not! He said: 'Gentlemen, let us draw the sword for the father of the Princess of Wales'; but these great Christian members of Parliament that you've been talking about so much said: 'No, we'll fight for nobody but ourselves.' Where is your Waterloo, your Corunna and Balaclava now? What about that foggy mornin' in the Baltic Sea when the fog cleared away and we were right in the centre of the Danish line-of-battleships, and the whole crew wanted to join the Danish navy, and the skipper said: 'No, men, you must stick to your own ship.' But we saluted them with the old flag, and gave them three good English cheers, and they cheered us, and the skipper said: 'Ah, they're fine fellows. What is England doin' of not to help them? There's no ill-feelin' left about Nelson puttin' the spy-glass to his blind eye and blowing Copenhagen down about their ears.'"

"Talk about makin' the Queen Empress of India? By George! Gladstone did walk into Disraeli about that, and it was said the Queen got her hump up about it."

"Well she might," said Cowan; "what business had Gladstone to interfere? He's always interfering."

"Yes," said Harvey; "and a good job for England he is."

"What d'ye say? Good job for England? What about the Fenians? What about Parnell and them Irishmen? What about the rascals who were nabbed settin' fire to infernal machinery for blowing up the House of Parliament? And then he talks of givin' them Home Rule! What about Piggott, Parnell and company?"

"Yes, and what about the forgeries, Mr Sniggins," said Harvey.

"Don't call me Sniggins!" said Captain Cowan, "I'm a respectable man."

"Don't you say this and that about Gladstone, then," said Harvey.

"We will if we like," said the bulbous friend, who showed in his phlegmatic way signs of taking sides against the great Liberal leader.

"What do you know about it?" contemptuously interposed Harvey. "My advice is to you, 'keep yourself sober and your mouth shut, and don't show your empty-headedness to people who have forgotten more than ever you knew!' _You_ talk about Gladstone! Why, you would never have known there was such a man if I hadn't told you. Of all the brazen cheek, well! You take the cake to talk to me about a man that made England and stopped the gentry from pilfering the whole thing."

"Get away, man!" replied our portly friend; "you would swear you were the Duke of Argyle. I tell you he would have given the country away to the foreigners if we hadn't stepped in."

"Do _you_ call yourself '_we_'!" interjected Harvey, his utterance almost incoherent with anger; "you want to go to school again and get some learnin'."

"Get some learnin', d'ye say, Mr Know-all? What has Gladstone done for the sailors, you an' me? That's a poser for you; and look at the money he gave away about the _Alabama_ to the Yankees, instead of fightin' them for it like an Englishman. That's another poser for you!" retorted the big, burly antagonist who had wakened up and entered into the discussion with elephantine zeal. "Some of you would let foreigners jump on your stomachs, but Captain Cowan and me says, 'England for ever!' Why, if it hadn't been for Palmerston and the old Jew, we would all have been Russians or blooming Germans before now."

"Bravo, John Bird, well said! That's a clinker for you, Harvey," chimed in the devoted supporter of the previous speaker. "Fine Britishers they are, givin' away the country of their birth in lumps at a time!"

Harvey was purple; his blood was at boiling pitch, and his poignant attack on Captain John Bird gave that gentleman some concern lest it should reach to something more than mere words. His peroration consisted of a luxuriant use of imprecating adjectives which stamped him as a person of original thought. He apologized to his Creator as he passed from point to point of these profane heights, and was obviously sure that this chaste mode of seeking forgiveness commended his observations to the Deity. The attack on Gladstone's and his own patriotism roused him to produce prodigies of declamatory illustrations.

"Givin' the country away," he said. "Gladstone's trying to stop them dukes and earls and such like from stealing it. What does he say that the House of Lords should be shut up for, and these gentry made to work like other folk? I'll tell you what he says that for: because he wants it fairly shared, and the men that go down to the sea in ships to have a bit of it."

"Now you needn't repeat Scripture after you've been swearin' see hard," interposed Captain Cowan.

"No, sir, I'm not using Scripture. I'm saying that Gladstone wants to turn them fellows in the House of Lords out to work for their living, instead of cribbing all the land and gettin' such as you to back them up and crawl on your bended knees and kiss their hands for them; but I'm not one of them sort. I says what Joe Cowan says: 'The land for the people if they pay for it.' Wasn't it Gladstone and Bright that said no good would ever be done until the House of Lords was pulled down, and wasn't it Joe Cowan that stood up for them when they wanted to make the Queen the Empress of India? Didn't he say: 'No, gentlemen, the Queen of England's good enough for me; I wants no Empress'? And didn't that favourite Jew of yours say to him it was a grand speech? But I'm not goin' to open my mouth to fill your empty heads. You don't know your A B C's yet; and you talk to me about givin' away England, and about Dizzy, and you haven't a good word to say about your own countrymen who want to get you a bit of the land to grow something on. I tell you, you're nothing better than nincompoops, hobbledehoys that knows no more about politics than the old hookers you're skippers of do." He emphasized these last remarks by bringing his fist heavily down on the table, knocking the glasses off, and then in a patronizing way he walked from them a short distance, turned round quickly as though a sudden impulse had seized him, and shouted at the top of his voice:

"You want to go to school again, if you've ever been there, but I don't think you have!"

A reticent man sat close by during the singular debate. An observer could see that Captain Harvey's last oration was having a convincing effect on him, and immediately Harvey had fired his last shot Captain George Halligay rose, and with unaffected solemnity remarked:

"That man knows too much to be a shipmaster. He should be in the House of Commons. The language he uses, and his knowledge of men and what they say, is very clever. It would take a funny 'un to tackle him. They tell me he's written to the papers sometimes."

"All wind and blather," said Captain John Bird, which remark was endorsed by Captain Cowan and received with some applause.

"Not so," said Halligay. "He has great gifts." And then they made their way to the landing where their boats waited to convey them to their respective ships.

These were some of the last specimens of our old-time sailor manhood. Rough, uncultured, careless of danger, their fighting instincts sometimes leading them to ferocity; but withal they were strong in many ways, and had intervals of docility which ofttimes made them lovable. I dare say many, if not all, of their generation (for they were aged men when I knew them) have passed beyond the reach of the political or social student, and we shall nevermore hear the same kind of confusion of thought that made the discussions of these aged mariners so delightful to listen to. Of course many of the captains of that time had real accomplishments far beyond the stolid men of whom I have been speaking. But even the most cultured of that generation did not reach the zenith of fame to which the modern commander has risen. The average present-day captain has little in common with his predecessors. His political creed goes beyond the mere assertion of the superiority of Britishers over foreigners. He claims association with a party, and knows a good deal about prominent statesmen and politicians. He is up to date in the causes which led to the Boer War, the Coal Tax, the Corn Duty, Irish Land Purchase, the Education Act, and Chamberlain's agitation to force a change in our fiscal policy from Free Trade to Protection. He has a peculiar form of self-confidence which may be considered phenomenal though it is rarely offensive.

VI

MARY ROUTLEDGE

I have often come in contact with old people living in the villages close by the sea and far away from the bustle of railroads and large towns, who lament the good times gone by when they used to look forward to the homecoming and the passing to and fro of the bonny sailor lads, who were always expected to lift the monotony from their dull, uneventful lives by strange stories and rollicking habits. The villagers for the most part lived under a kind of despotism. The Lord of the Manor and the parson dominated them, and fashioned their politics, their religion, and even their social lives. The rule was to keep within the limits of their own little community when they wanted a wife or a husband, but if at any time their affections travelled outside this sanctified boundary, the two potentates were assiduous in their warnings that if the new comer in any way transgressed the unwritten code of laws that were framed in order that the estate might be kept free from contamination they would have to leave it peremptorily. Ranters, Wesleyans, and other Nonconformists were regarded as heretics. A religious test was practised, and those who openly avowed their dissent from the established form of worship were frankly told that there was a strong aversion to having that manner of person about the place, and that any attempt at proselytising would be met by immediate expulsion. That was the state of things existent in a certain country village no further back than the middle of the last century, when, as though Providence had pre-arranged it, a man who at one time had been a sailor came to live there. He was tall and well-made, with broad shoulders, and he walked with a sort of military tread. He had a broad forehead, firmly set lips, and altogether he was good to look on. No one could come in contact with him without being impressed with his strength of character. His wife was an equally fine-looking person, with pronounced intellectual capacity. They were both evangelical Wesleyans. Their family consisted of five sons and two daughters, a fine wholesome brood, who were all quite young, the eldest being about fifteen. The children were reared and trained with great care, and without distinction of sexes: they were all taught to do housework. Family worship was held morning and night. If the father was unavoidably absent, the mother took the service, and if both were absent, the eldest of the family, either son or daughter, took it. The house was a hive of industry and religious fervour; everything about it was neat and spotlessly clean. Soon after their arrival the parson made a call on them, and of course the father and mother were asked what their faith was. This being quickly settled, the man of holy orders intimated that the parents would be expected to attend the parish church each Sunday with their family. They of course reminded him that they were Wesleyan Methodists, but that would not prevent them attending his church in the mornings. "In the afternoon and evenings I have been accustomed to conduct a service myself either in the open air or in my own or someone else's home," said the placid-looking father. The parson gazed at him with apoplectic surprise, and hinted that he hoped he would not continue his mission work there, as Nonconformity was not approved by the owner of the village, and, he might add, by himself either.

"I fear I must disregard your request," said Mr Burnside, "and do what my conscience and judgement demand of me."

The cleric took his leave, with the intimation that Squire Humbert would no doubt call and have a talk with him about spiritual and other matters. Burnside was not long in discovering that many of the villagers were quite illiterate, and but little above the standard of heathen. He resolved to throw his soul into the work of evangelizing them at all costs. The first visit Mr Humbert paid him left no doubt as to that gentleman's wishes. He spoke of the disturbing influence lay Methodist preachers were having all over the country, and said that he had decided no such sensational work should be permitted on his estate. Burnside did not deem it prudent to enter into controversy, but determined that nothing should deter him from carrying out the work that God had sent him to do. The circumstances were so discouraging that no ordinary man would have persisted in going on with it. He was scoffed at, hooted, and at times both men and women were so enraged that they threatened a personal attack; but there was something about his physical appearance and his firm though gentle manner that cowed even the most violent of those who were opposed to his religious teaching. They felt he would stand no nonsense of that kind. He had not been long in the locality before a spirit of strong revival came over the place. Some of the worst men and women in the countryside were converted, and ardently tried to influence others for good. They were raw, crude, and uneducated, but there was a power behind them that made their influence irresistible. People came from far and near to hear this strange gospel of pity preached and to witness such an unexpected revolution. Strong men and women were smitten with its force, until any one of them who had shown ill-natured and violent dislike to even listening to the simple message of the lay preacher, eagerly threw their doors open to him in order that he might hold services in their homes. He urged them to attend the parish church in the mornings, as there was only one service on the Sundays, and none during the week. Most of his own family did this, while the others went with him to the chapels he was appointed to preach at. He knew the squire and the parson were feeling full of wrath, and that they believed him to be a mistaken instrument for evil, and that the whole parish was thrown into revolt by his wild advocacy of a sacrilegious creed, and that it must be put a stop to or he would have to leave the village.

When Burnside was having a stroll one morning with a little fellow of four years old, who was chattering to him about his services, Squire Humbert came upon them, stopped, and snappishly asked what he meant by disturbing the whole district with such ranting nonsense.

"I tell you," said he, "it must cease, or I will ask you to leave the place."

Burnside withered him with a gaze that betrayed his feelings, and began:

"Sir, you may ask me to leave the village, but you may not ask me to cease serving my God in the way I choose. Now, sir, listen. You have been accustomed to talk to your village servants in a way that is insufferable. I am not one of them, and if I were I should resent your doing so to me. I must ask you to carry out your threat, and when I get your communication I shall give you my definite answer. Meanwhile never you attempt to insult me or make an attack upon my religion again. And bear in mind that I refuse to allow you to be the controller of it. Good morning."

The dignified "Lord God the Squire" gasped with suppressed fury, but that which he wished to utter was unutterable, and he rode off in the direction of his hall. Burnside told his wife what had transpired. She commended him for the manner in which he had treated it, though both she and the family were filled with concern lest the threat of turning them out of their home should be carried out. It made an everlasting impression on all the family, but especially so on the little fellow who heard all that was said. _He_ never got over the cruel, senseless stab, and I have reason to believe it lives with him still. Burnside regarded the whole thing with contempt, and continued his religious services as though nothing had happened. Mr Logan, the parson, not long after called to see him, and Burnside drew him into discussion on Theology. He was a great student of Bishop Butler's "Analogy," and was familiar with the writings of other theologians. The parson was amazed at the plain man's strong logical instincts, the keen fluency of his talk, and the fulness of his knowledge, and so enjoyed the conversation that he asked if he might hope to have a further opportunity of having another discussion. "Come any day you like except Sundays," said the unconventional old sailor, "and I may assure you it will give me great pleasure." They parted with feelings of growing respect for each other. The parson evidently made some weighty communication to Mr Humbert, as that gentleman's attitude towards Burnside soon underwent a marked change, and this was shown by his commencing to chat whenever they met. It was not long before they were on the most cordial terms. The squire found that Burnside was not only a powerful religionist but a strong personality. His reading was very wide, and his knowledge and conversational gifts made him an attractive man to come in contact with. Humbert had evidently seen it to be unwise to meddle with his religion any more, and his friendship for him soon became apparent, for instead of carrying out the threat of putting him off his estate, he offered him a better house to live in, with a large plot of ground attached to it. The offer was gratefully accepted, but this did not in any way interfere with the steady progress of the propaganda, and in a few years the character of the men and women who would have thrown him into the sea when he first came amongst them changed from hatred into affection. Gambling, drunkenness, wife-beating, profanity, all had disappeared.

As soon as his sons were old enough they left the district, and ere long some of them were heard of in the metropolis of England, and had succeeded in carving out distinguished careers for themselves. Two of them gladdened the old man's heart by choosing the sea as a profession, but no discrimination in point of affection was ever shown, though when he heard the hoarse moaning of the wind on troubled nights, he never failed to put in a supplementary prayer for his two seafarers. He had passed through the dangers himself, and had a steadfast belief that close communion with God was a strong safeguard against disaster. The homecoming of these sailor lads, who frequently brought friends with them, was a great joy to the Burnsides, and also to those of the villagers with whom they associated. Both lads were very sailorly, and it was well known that they never failed to make things hum with mirth and mischief, as soon as they had taken their bearings and found the coast clear of "squires" and "parsons." It was a pretty sight to see their two sisters rush out of the house as soon as their brothers were seen in the distance crossing the long stretch of moor and run to meet and fondly greet them. This had been one of the fundamental points in their training, that they were to be affectionate to each other, and lengthened separation did not diminish the well instilled habit. But the joy of the young people's meeting was only second to that of seeing their reunion with their parents, and great were Mrs Burnside's bewildering exploits of cookery. The first night was generally spent in telling queer stories of their skippers, mates and shipmates, whilst the father sat smiling placidly and obviously living over again his youthful days when he also was a sailor lad relating the same kind of stories in the same old way. The girls asked all sorts of questions, and the merry babble was kept up until Mrs Burnside reminded her husband that it was long past the usual time for prayers, and that they had better postpone the narrative until the morrow. A chapter suitable for the occasion was given out, and they read verse and verse about until they reached the end of the lesson. Then they knelt round the table and listened to the tremulous tones of their father's prayer. When he had finished they all repeated after him the Lord's Prayer and then rose. At one of these reunited gatherings one of the brothers had been restless, and persisted in nudging his sisters and winking at them when his parent had reached his most impressive periods and was oblivious of everything but his communion with God. The scamp was taken aside by the younger sister, who was a strong-minded little damsel with fixed ideas, and she sharply reproved him for his irreverence; and the elder sister, who had a keen sense of humour as well as fixed opinions, was so thankful that the boys had been brought safely back to them, she commenced to make the most comical excuses for their erring brother's buoyant indiscretion. The young man's contrition was signified by his taking hold of his sisters, waltzing them round the room, and then proceeding to stand on his head and dangling his legs in the air. This threw them into fits of laughter, and though it was against the rules of the home, the joyous chatter was resumed and continued until long past the regulated time for going to bed. When I hear people ridiculing religion and its forms, I think of those simple days of village methodism with a throbbing of the heart.