Part 34

Godfrey passed the remainder of the day in concealing his clothes and books, boring air-holes in the chest, and lining it with the softest materials he could procure. On the morning appointed for his departure, Isabel stole unperceived up to the store-room, where Godfrey was anxiously waiting to receive her, and stepped blithely into the trunk. Within an hour after, it was half a mile on the road towards Bristol, in the fly-wagon, which Godfrey had previously ordered to call at the parsonage for his heavy baggage, a short time before his own intended departure. At length the chaise, in which he was to leave the village for ever, drew up to the garden gate. Godfrey took a hurried leave of his old master and fellow student, leaped into the vehicle, and told the post-boy not to spare his spurs if he expected to be well paid.

In less than an hour, the young gentleman alighted at the wagon-office. Assuming as cool and unconcerned an air as he possibly could, he observed, in a careless tone, to a clerk in the office,--“I am looking for a trunk of mine, but I do not see it: I suppose we must have passed your wagon on the road.”

“All our wagons are in, sir,” replied the clerk: “we don't expect another arrival till to-morrow morning.”

“Oh! very good: then my chest must be here. I hope you have taken particular precautions in unloading it: I wrote 'with care--this side upwards,' on it, in very large letters.”

“Who was it addressed to, sir?”

“Why, to me, certainly;--Godfrey Fairfax, Esquire, Demrara--”

“To be left at the office till called for?”

“Exactly;--where is it? I've not much time to lose.”

“Why, sir, it has been gone away from here--”

“Gone away!”

“Yes, sir; about,--let me see,” continued the clerk, lazily turning to look at the office clock; “why, about, as near as may be, nine or ten,--ay, say ten,--about ten minutes ago, sir.”

“Ten minutes ago, sir! What do you mean?--Are you mad? I'll play the devil with you! Where's my chest?”

“I told you before, it was gone, sir.”

“Gone, sir! How could it go, sir? Didn't I direct it to be left here till called for?”

“Very well, sir; and so it was left here till called for: it stood in the office for five minutes or more, and then--”

“And then--what then?”

“Why, then, a little black porter called for it, and took it away with him on a truck.”

“Who was he?--Where has he taken it?--I'll be the ruin of you. The contents of that trunk are invaluable.”

“I suppose you didn't insure it: we don't answer for any thing above the value of five pounds unless it's insured;--vide the notice on our tickets.”

“Don't talk to me of your tickets, but answer me, scoundrel!”

“Scoundrel!”

“Where has the villain conveyed it?”

“Can't say.”

“Who was he?”

“Don't know.”

“Distraction! How could you be such a fool as to let him have it?”

“Why not?--How was I to know?--You'd think it odd if you was to send a porter for your chest--”

“Certainly; but--”

“Very well, then: how could I tell but what the little black fellow was sent by you?--He asked for it quite correctly, according to the address; and that's what we go by, of course, in these cases. And even now, how can I tell but what he was sent by the right owner, and that you're come under false pretences.”

“What, rascal!”

“You'll excuse me:--but you don't authenticate yourself, you know; and I've a right to think as I please. If we were to hold a tight hand on every gentleman's luggage, until he proved his birth, parentage, and education, why, fifty clerks couldn't get through the work. I'll put a case:--suppose, now, you _are_ the gentleman you represent yourself to be,--and, mind me, I don't say you are not,--how should you like, when you came here for your chest, for me to ask you for your certificate of baptism?”

“You drive me mad! Can you give me no clue?”

“None in the world;--you ought to have written to us.”

“Write to you?--why should I write?”

“Why, to warn us against giving up the goods to anybody except under an order, with the same signature as that in your letter: then even if a forgery were committed, by a comparison of hands--don't you see?--”

“My good fellow!” interrupted the disconsolate and bewildered Godfrey, “you know not what you've done. This is a horrid act: it will be the death of me; and perhaps you may live to repent ever having seen this unlucky day. There was a lady in the chest.”

The clerk turned his large dull eyes upon Godfrey, and after a long and deliberate stare of wonder, exclaimed, “Dead or alive?”

“Alive; alive, I hope that is,--alive, I mean, of course.--Do you take me for a body-snatcher? If you have a spark of pity in your bosom, you will put me in the way of tracing the villain who has inflicted these agonies upon me. What can I do?”

“Why, if there's a lady in the case--”

“There is, I declare;--I solemnly protest there is.”

“Young or old?” “Young--young, to be sure.”

“Why, then,--I think you ought to lose no time.”

“Pshaw! I know that well enough.”

“If I were you, I should be off directly.”

“Off!--S'death, man! you enrage me. What do you mean by be off?'”

“Why, off after him, to be sure.”

“Which way did he go?”

“Ah! there I'm at fault.”

Godfrey could bear no more:--he rushed out of the office, hallooed “Porter!” five or six times, and, in a few seconds, half-a-dozen knights of the knot were advancing, from different corners of the inn yard, towards him. “My good fellows,” said he, “did any of you see a little black fellow taking a large trunk or chest from the office, on a truck, this morning?”

Two of them had seen the little black man, but they did not recollect in what direction he went after quitting the yard.

“How dreadfully provoking!” exclaimed Godfrey: “My only course is to ransack every street--every corner, in quest of him. I'll give ten guineas to any one who will discover the wretch. Away with you at once;--bring all the black porters you know or meet with, to the office; and, perhaps, the clerk may identify the rascal among them. I've been robbed!--do you hear?--robbed--”

“And there's a lady in the case,” said the clerk, from the threshold of the office-door, where he stood, carefully nibbing a pen; “a mistake has occurred, it seems; and though it's no fault of ours, we should be glad to see the matter set to rights: therefore, my lads, look sharp, and the gentleman, I've no doubt, will come down handsomely. I think I've seen the little black rascal before, and I'm pretty certain I should know him again: if I shouldn't, Ikey Pope would, I reckon; for he helped him to put the chest on the truck.”

“And where is Ikey, as you call him?” eagerly inquired Godfrey.

“He's asleep again, I suppose, among the luggage.--Ikey!--You see, he's got to sit up for the wagons at night, and never has his regular rest. He's like a dog--Ikey!--like a dog that turns round three times, and so makes his bed anywhere.--Ikey!” A short, muscular, dirty-looking fellow now raised his head from among the packages which lay in the yard, and without opening his eyes, signified that he was awake, by growling forth “Well, what now?”

“Ikey,” said the clerk, “didn't you help a porter to load a truck with a large chest, some little time ago?”

“Yes.”

“Should you know him again?”

“No!” replied Ikey, and his head disappeared behind a large package as he spoke.

“Well, there's no time to lose, comrades,” said one of the porters: “will the gentleman pay us for our time if we don't succeed?”

“Oh! of course,” replied the clerk; “away with you!”

The porters immediately departed in different directions; and Godfrey, after pacing the yard for a few minutes, in great anguish of mind, sallied forth himself in quest of the little black porter. After running through some of the adjacent streets, and despatching another half-dozen porters, whom he found standing round the door of an inn, to seek for the fellow who had so mysteriously borne away “his casket with its precious pearl,” he hastened back to the wagon-office, hoping that some of his emissaries might have brought in the little black porter during his absence. None of them, however, had yet returned. Godfrey, half frantic, ran off again: and after half an hour's absence, he retraced his steps towards the wagon-office.

“Well, sir,” said the clerk, in his usual slow and solemn tone, as Godfrey entered, “I have had three or four of them back; and they've brought and sent in half-a-score of black porters, occasional waiters, valets out of place, journeymen chairmen, _et cetera_, and so forth; but, unfortunately--”

“The little delinquent was not among them, I suppose.”

“No, nor any one like him: but I'll tell you what I did--”

“Speak quicker:--consider my impatience. Did you employ them all to hunt out the villain?”

“Why, it was a bold step, perhaps; but--”

“Did you, or did you not?”

“I did.”

“A thousand thanks!--I'll be off again.”

“But, I say, sir;--you'll excuse me;--now, if I were you, I'll just tell you what I'd do.”

“Well, my dear friend, what?--quick--what?”

“Why, I'd roust out Ikey Pope. He's the man to beat up your game.”

“What! the fellow who answers without unclosing his eyelids?”

“Why, to say the truth, he don't much like daylight. Nobody sees the colour of his eye, I reckon, above once a week; but, for all that, there's few can match him. He's more like a dog than a Christian. He'll find what every body else has lost; but upon what principle he works, I can't say: I think he does it all by instinct.”

“Let us send him out at once, then.”

“Not so fast, sir:--Ikey's next kin to a brute, and must be treated accordingly. We must manage him.”

“Well, you know him, and--”

“Yes, and he knows me: I have condescended to play so many tricks with him, that he won't trust me: but he'll believe you.”

“And how shall I enlist him in my service? I stand on thorns:--for Heaven's sake be speedy.”

“Why, if you only tell him he has a good leg for a boot, and promise him an old pair of Hessians, he's your humble servant to command; for, ugly as he is, he's so proud of his leg, that--”

“Call him;--call him, at once.”

The clerk now roused Ikey, and, with considerable difficulty, induced him to leave his hard and comfortless dormitory.

“The gentleman has a job for you,” said the clerk, as Ikey staggered towards young Fairfax.

“I don't want no jobs,” muttered Ikey. “Saturday night comes often enough for me. Seven-and-twenty wagons a-week, out and in, in the way of work, and half-a-guinea a-week, in the way of wages, is as much as I can manage.”

“Ikey is very temperate, sir,” said the clerk; “very temperate, I must allow;--he eats little and drinks less: he keeps up his flesh by sleeping, and sucking his thumbs.”

“Ah! you will have your joke,” said Ikey, turning towards the heap of luggage again.

“And won't you earn a shilling or two, Ikey?” said the clerk.

“No; I'm an independent man: I have as much work as I can do, and as much wages as I want. I wish you wouldn't wake me, when there's no wagon:--how should you like it?”

“Well, but, friend Pope,” said Godfrey, “as you will not take money, perhaps you'll be generous enough to do a gentleman a favour. I shall be happy to make you some acceptable little present--keepsake, I mean--in return. I've an old pair of Hessians,--and, as I think our legs are about of a size--”

“Of a size!” said Ikey, facing about towards young Fairfax, and, for the first time, unclosing his heavy lids; “of a size!” repeated he, a second time, casting a critical glance on Godfrey's leg; “I can hardly think that.”

Ikey dropped on one knee, and, without uttering a word, proceeded to measure Godfrey's calves with his huge, hard hands. He then rose, and rather dogmatically observed, “The gentleman has got a goodish sort of a leg; but,” continued he, “his calves don't travel in flush enough with one another exactly: he couldn't hold a sixpence between his ancles, the middle of his legs, and his knees, as a person I'm acquainted with can, when he likes to turn his toes out:--but I think your boots might fit me, sir.”

“I'm sure they will,” cried the impatient Godfrey; “and you shall have them.”

“Your hand, then;--it's a bargain,” quoth Ikey, thrusting out his fist, and striking a heavy blow in the centre of Godfrey's palm. “Now, what's the job?”

Godfrey rapidly stated his case, and, with all the eloquence he possessed, endeavoured to stimulate the drowsy fellow, on whom his chief hopes now depended, to a state of activity. Ikey listened to him, with closed eyes, and did not seem to comprehend a tythe of what he heard. When Godfrey had concluded, he merely observed, “I'll have a shy!” and staggered out of the yard, more like a drunkard reeling home from a debauch, than a man despatched to find out an unknown individual in the heart of a busy and populous city.

“The William and Mary, by which I was to sail, lies at King-road,” said Godfrey to the clerk, as Ikey Pope departed; “the wind, I perceive, is fair, and sail she will, this evening, without a doubt. Unfortunate fellow that I am!--every moment is an age to me.”

“Perhaps you'd like to sit down in the office,” said the clerk; “I can offer you a seat and yesterday's paper.”

“Thank you, thank you!” replied Godfrey; “but I fear pursuit, too:--I cannot rest here.”

The young man again walked into the streets: he inquired of almost every person he met, for the little black porter; but no one could give him any information. At last, a crowd began to gather around him, and he was, with very little ceremony, unanimously voted a lunatic. Two or three fellows had even approached to lay hands on him, when his eye suddenly encountered that of Ikey Pope: breaking through the crowd at once, he hurried back, with Ikey, to the wagon-office.

“I've won the boots,” said Ikey, as they entered the yard.

“Which way?--how?--Have you seen him?--Where is he?” eagerly inquired Godfrey.

“I can't make out where he is,” replied Ikey; “but I happened to drop into the house where he smokes his pipe, and there I heard the whole yam. He brought the chest there.”

“Where?--where?”

“Why, to the Dog and Dolphin.”

“Til fly--”

“Oh! it's of no use: the landlord says it was carried away again, by a pair of Pill-sharks; who, from what I can get out of him and his people, had orders to take it down the river, and put it aboard the William and Mary, what's now lying in Ringroad, bound for Demerary.”

“Oh! then, I dare say it's all a mistake, and no roguery's intended,” said the clerk, who had heard Ikey's statement: “the person found he was wrong, and, to make amends, has duly forwarded the trunk, pursuant to the direction on its cover.”

“A chaise and four to Lamplighter's Hall, instantly!” shouted Godfrey.

“First and second turn, pull out your tits,” cried the ostler: “put to, while I fill up a ticket.”

“Are you going, sir?” said Ikey, to young Fairfax.

“On the wings of love,” replied Godfrey.

“But the boots!”

“Ah! true. There,--there's a five pound note,--buy the best pair of Hessians you can get.”

“What about the change?”

“Keep it or, oddso! yes,--distribute it among the porters; and be sure, Ikey, if ever I return to England, I'll make your fortune: I'd do it now, but I really haven't time.”

In a few minutes, Godfrey was seated in a chaise, behind four excellent horses, and dashing along, at full speed, toward's Lamplighter's Hall. On his arrival at that place, he found, to his utter dismay, that the William and Mary had already set sail. After some little delay--during which he ascertained that his trunk had positively been carried on board--Godfrey procured a pilot-boat; the master of which undertook to do all that lay in the power of man to overtake the vessel. After two hours of intense anxiety, the pilot informed Godfrey, that, if the wind did not get up before sunset, he felt pretty sure of success. Far beyond the Holms, and just as the breeze was growing brisk, Godfrey, to his unspeakable joy, reached the deck of the William and Mary. The pilot immediately dropped astern; and, as soon as Godfrey could find utterance, he inquired for his trunk. It had already been so securely stowed away in the hold, that, as Godfrey was informed, it could not be hoisted on deck in less than half an hour. The impatient youth entreated that not a moment might be lost; and, in a short time, five or six of the crew, with apparent alacrity, but real reluctance, set about what they considered the useless task of getting the trunk out of the snug berth in which they had placed it.

It is now necessary for us to take up another thread of our story; for which purpose, we must return to that point of time when the wagon, which contained Godfrey's precious chest, slowly disappeared behind the brow of a hill, at the foot of which stood the worthy Doctor's residence. Patty Wallis, Isabel's maid and bosom friend, had, for some time past, been bought over to the interest of Charles Perry, to whom she communicated every transaction of importance that occurred in the house. On that eventful morning, she had acquainted Perry with Godfrey's plan,--the particulars of which her young mistress had confided to her, under a solemn pledge of secresy,--and Perry, from behind the hedge of an orchard, nearly opposite the Doctor's house, beheld young Fairfax consign his trunk to the care of the wagoners. Godfrey entered the house, as the heavy vehicle turned the summit of the hill; and Charles Perry immediately retreated from his place of concealment, to join his trusty groom, Doncaster Dick, who was waiting for him, with a pair of saddle horses, in a neighbouring lane.

“You've marked the game, I'll lay guineas to pounds!” exclaimed Dick, as Charles approached. “I'm sure I'm right;--I can see it by your eyes. Guineas to pounds, did I say?--I'd go six to four, up to any figure, on it.”

“I wish you'd a thousand or two on the event, Dick,” replied Charles Perry, exultingly; “you'd have a safe book at any odds.”

“Well! I always thought how it would be: if there was fifty entered for the young lady, you'd be my first favourite; because for why?--as I've said scores of times,--if you couldn't beat'em out and out, you'd jockey them to the wrong side of the post.”

“I hope you've not been fool enough to let any one know of Godfrey's scheme, or of my being acquainted with it:--'brush' is the word, if you have.”

“I'd lay a new hat, sir, if the truth was known, you don't suspect me. You're pretty sure I'm not noodle enough to open upon the scent in a poaching party: I was born in Bristol and brought up at Doncaster to very little purpose, if ever I should be sent to heel for that fault. But won't you mount, sir?”

“I'm thinking, Dick,” said Perry, who stood with one foot on the ground and the other in the stirrup;--“I'm thinking you had better push on by yourself, in order to avoid suspicion. Yes, that's the plan:--take the high road, and I'll have a steeple-chase run of it across the country. Make the best of your way to old Harry Tuffin's; put up the horse, watch for the wagon, and, as soon as it arrives, send a porter, who doesn't know you, to fetch the trunk:--you know how it's directed.”

“But where am I to--”

“Have it brought to Tuffin's:--bespeak a private room, at the back part of the house; and order a chaise and four to be ready, at a moment's notice.”

“But suppose, sir, Miss should be rusty?”

“I'm sure she loves me, Dick, let them say what they will: she wouldn't have attempted to ran away with this young Creole fellow, if she thought there was any chance of having me. Besides, what can she do?--her reputation, Dick,--consider that but I'm talking Greek to _you_. Be off--get the trunk to Tuffin's.”

“And a thousand to three she's yours;--that's what you mean, sir,” said Dick, touching his hat to Perry, as he turned his horse's head towards the high road. In a few moments he was out of sight, and Charles set off, at a brisk pace, down the lane.

On his arrival at Tuffin's, Perry found his trusty servant engaged in deep conversation, a few paces from the door, with a short, muscular, black man, whose attire was scrupulously neat, although patched in several places; his shoes were very well polished; his neckerchief was coarse, but white as snow; he wore a large silver ring on the little finger of his left hand; his hair was tied behind with great neatness; he had a porter's knot hanging on his arm: and, as Perry approached, he drew a small tin box from his waistcoat pocket, and took snuff with the air of a finished coxcomb.

“Is this the porter you've engaged, Dick?” inquired Perry.

“I couldn't meet with another,” replied Dick, “besides, sir, he's not objectionable, I think;--he talks like a parson.”

“But he's too old for the weight, Dick, I'm afraid. What's your age, friend?”

“A rude question, as some would say,” replied the porter, with a smile and a bow; “but Cæsar Devallé is not a coy young beauty.”

“So I perceive, Caesar,--if that's your name.”

“You do me great honour,” said the porter, “and I'm bound to venerate you, Mister--what shall I say? No offence;--but mutual confidence is the link of society. I am so far of that opinion, that I can boast of seven lovely children; and Mrs. Devallé, although full two-and-thirty when I took her in hand, already dances divinely: indeed, I can now safely confide to her the instruction of our infant progeny in the first rudiments of Terpsichore,--graceful maid!--while I teach my eldest boys the violin and shaving. We must get our bread as well as worship the muses, you know; for teeth were not given for nothing.”

“No, certainly,” observed Dick; “we know an animal's age by'em:--what's yours?”

“In round numbers--fifty.”

“I fear, my learned friend,” said Perry, “you are scarcely strong enough for my purpose.”

“I am not equal to Hercules,” replied the porter; “but I possess what that great man never did,--namely, a truck. I have often thought what wonders Hercules would have done, if somebody had made him a present of two or three trifles which we moderns almost despise. Life, you know, is short, and therefore machinery is esteemed: consequently, 'to bear and forbear' is my motto; for nobody can see the bottom of the briny waves.”

“You are rather out at elbows in your logic, Cæsar,” said Perry; “and your motto seems to me to be a _non sequitur_:--but you read, I perceive.”

“Yes, when my numerous occupations permit me,--for spectacles are cheap: but I find numerous faults with the doctrine of chances; and those who pretend to see through a millstone, in my opinion--”

“Keep your eye up the street,” Dick, interrupted Charles, turning from the Little Black Porter to his servant; “the wagon must be near at hand, by this time. Allow me to ask you, friend,” continued he, again addressing Cæsar Devallé, “are you a regular porter?”

“Why, truly,” replied Devallé, “the winds and the weather preach such doctrine to us, that I occasionally shave and give lessons on the violin. All nature is continually shifting;--why, then, should man be constant, except to his wife? Night succeeds the day, and darkness, light; and I certainly prefer practising a cotillon with a pupil, even if she's barefooted, to shouldering the knot. My terms are very moderate: but some people think ability lies only skin deep; to which class you, sir, certainly do not belong;--that is, if I know anything of a well-cut coat.”

The Little Black Porter now retired, bowing and grinning, to a little distance, leaving Charles with his servant.

“I'll lay a pony, sir,” said Dick, “the wagon isn't here this half-hour.”

“Ridiculous!” exclaimed Perry. Dick, however, was right; forty minutes elapsed before the bells on the horses' heads were heard. In another half-hour, Godfrey's trunk, by the exertions of Perry, Dick, and the Little Black Porter, was removed from the truck on which Cæsar had brought it from the wagon-office, and triumphantly deposited on the floor of a back room in old Tuffin's house.