Chapter 6

"Now, I want you to tell me of this. You know of Newson's lending _Posh_ {104} money. I have advised that, beside an I.O.U. from Posh, he should give security upon some of his Effects: Boats, Nets, or other Gear. Tell me how this should be done, if you can: the Form of Writing required: and perhaps what Interest Newson should have on his Money.

"Last night at the 'Suffolk' I was where Newson, Posh, & Co. were at their Ale: a little of which got into Newson's head: who began to touch up Posh about such an Apparatus of Rockets, Mortars, etc., for the Rescue of those two stranded Vessels, when he declares that he and one or two Felixstowe Men would have pushed off a Boat through the pauses of the Surf, and done all that was wanted. _He_ had seen, and been on, the Shipwash scores of times when the jump of the Ship pitched him on his Back, and sent the Topmast flying. So had Posh on the Home-sand here, he said; his Sand was just as bad as Tom's, he knew; and the Lowestoft Men just as good as the Felixstowe, &c. I fomented the Quarrel gently:--no _Quarrel_, or I should not: all Newson meant (which I believe is very true) there are so _many_ men here, and no _one Man to command_, that they are worse off with all their Men and Boats than at the Ferry [Bawdsey], where Newson or Percival are Spokesmen and Masters. This I have explained to Posh To-day, as he was sitting, like Abraham, in his Tent--like an Apostle, mending his nets. 'Posh, your Frill was out last night?' 'No--no--only I didn't like to hear the Lowestoft Chaps weren't as good, etc., especially before the Stranger Men from Harwich, etc.'"

"LOWESTOFT, _October_ 7, '66. [Ib.]

". . . 'Posh' went off in his new, old Lugger, {105} which I call 'The Porpoise,' on Thursday: came in yesterday with a Last and a half of Herrings: and is just put to Sea again, Sunday though it be. It is reported to be an extraordinary Herring Year, _along shore_: and now he goes into deeper Water. I am amused to see Newson's _devotion_ to his younger Friend: he won't leave him a moment if possible, was the first to see him come in yesterday, and has just watched him out of sight. He declined having any Bill of Sale on Posh's Goods for Money lent; old as he is (enough to distrust all Mankind)--has perfect reliance on his Honour, Industry, Skill, and Luck. This is a pretty Sight to me. I tell Newson he has at last found his Master, and become possessed of that troublesome thing: an anxious Regard for some one.

"I was noticing for several Days how many _Robins_ were singing along the 'London Road' here; and (without my speaking of it) Lusia Kerrich told me they had almost a _Plague_ of Robins at _Gelson_ [Geldestone]: 3 or 4 coming into the Breakfast room every morning; getting under Kerrich's Legs, &c. And yesterday Posh told me that _three_ came to his Lugger out at Sea; also another very pretty Bird, whose name he didn't know, but which he caught and caged in _the Binnacle_, where it was found dead in due time. . . .

"_P.S._--Posh (as Cooper, whom I question, tells me) was _over_ 12 _miles from Land_ when the _four_ Robins came aboard: a Bird which he nor Cooper had ever seen to visit a Ship before. The Bird he shut up in the Binnacle he describes as of 'all sorts of Colours'--perhaps a Tomtit!--and I fear it was _roasted_ in the Binnacle, when Posh lighted up at night, forgetting his Guest. 'Poor little fallow!'"

"LOWESTOFT, _Dec._ 4, 1866. [Ib.]

"I am sorry you can't come, but have no doubt that you are right in _not_ coming. You may imagine what I do with myself here: somehow, I do believe the Seaside is more of my Element than elsewhere, and the old Lodging Life suits me best. That, however, I have at Woodbridge; and can be better treated nowhere than there.

"I have just seen Posh, who had been shooting his Lines in the Morning: had fallen asleep after his Sunday Dinner, and rose up like a Giant refreshed when I went into his house. His little Wife, however, told him he must go and tidy his Hair, which he was preparing to obey. Oh! these are the People who somehow interest me; and if I were not now too far advanced on the Road to Forgetfulness, I should be sad that my own Life had been such a wretched Concern in comparison. But it is too late, even to lament, now. . . .

"There is a Wedding-party next door: at No. 11; I being in 12; _Becky_ having charge of both houses. There is incessant vulgar Giggling and Tittering, and 5 meals a Day, Becky says. Oh! these are not such Gentlefolks as my Friends on the Beach, who have not 5 meals a Day. I wonder how soon I shall quarrel with them, however--I don't mean the Wedding Party. . . . At Eight or half-past I go to have a Pipe at Posh's, if he isn't half-drunk with his Friends."

"LOWESTOFT, _Jan._ 5/67. ['Letters,' p. 306.]

"I really was to have gone home To-day, but made a little Business with Posh an excuse for waiting over Sunday. 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 daresay I had better have left all this alone: but, if moderately lucky, the Vessel will pay _something_, at any rate: and in the meanwhile it really does me some good, I believe, to set up this little Interest here: and even if I lose money, I get some Fun for it. So now I shall be very glad to drop _Esquire_, and be addressed, as '_Herring-merchant_,' for the future.

"Posh has been doing well this week with Cod-fishing, as only one other Boat has been out (owing to the others not having a _Set-net_ to catch bait with). His fish have fetched a good price, even from the old Jew, Levi. {108} 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. . . ."

"12 MARINE TERRACE, LOWESTOFT, _Feb._ 8, '67. ['Letters,' p. 308.]

"Posh shall be at the Train for his Hare. When I went to look for him last Night, he was in his _Shod_, by the light of a Candle examining a _Petman_ Pig [Suffolk for 'the smallest pig in a litter'], about the size of Newson's Watch, and swell'd out 'as _taut_ as a Drum,' Posh said. A Friend had given him this Production of Nature: it hadn't grown a bit (except swelling up) for 3 weeks, in spite of Posh's Medicines last Sunday: so as he is 'a'most minded to make away with it, poor little thing.' He almost let it drop when I suddenly appeared, in a theatrical Style, at the Door.

"You seem to think there is no hurry about a Gardener [at Little Grange] just yet. Mr Berry still thinks that Miss ---'s man would do well: as it is, he goes _out_ for work, as Miss --- has not full Employment for him. He and his Wife are very respectable too, I hear. So in spite of my Fear of Unprotected Females, &c., he might do. Perhaps you might see him one day as you pass the Unprotected one's Grounds, and hear. I have hardly work enough for one Whole Man, as is the case with my Neighbour, who yet is a Female. . . ."

"'BECKY'S,' _Saturday_, _May_ 18, '67. [Ib.]

". . . Posh is very busy with his Lugger [the 'Meum and Tuum'], which will be decked by the middle of next Week. I have just left him: having caught him with a Pot of white paint (some of which was on his Face), and having made him dine on cold Beef in the Suffolk Hotel Bowling-green, washing all down with two Tankards of Bullard's Ale. He was not displeased to dine abroad; as this is Saturday, when he says there are apt to be 'Squalls' at home, because of washing, &c. His little Boy is on the mending hand: safe, indeed, I hope, and believe, unless they let him into Draughts of Air: which I have warned them against.

"Yesterday we went to Yarmouth, and bought a Boat for the Lugger, and paraded the Town, and dined at the Star Tavern (_Beefsteak for one_), and looked into the Great Church: where when Posh pulled off his Cap, and stood erect but not irreverent, I thought he looked as good an Image of the Mould that Man was originally cast in, as you may chance to see in the Temple of _The Maker_ in these Days.

"The Artillery were blazing away on the Denes; and the little Band-master, who played with his Troop here last summer, joined us as we were walking, and told Posh not to lag behind, for he was not at all ashamed to be seen walking with him. The little well-meaning Ass! . . ."

"LOWESTOFT, _Longest Day_, '67. ['Letters,' p. 309.]

". . . As to talking over Posh, etc., with me, there is plenty of time for that; indeed, as yet we _cannot_ come to a final estimate of the Property, since all is not yet bought: sails, cables, warps, Ballast, &c. As to his services hitherto, I yesterday gave him 20 pounds, telling him that _I_ couldn't compute how much he had done for me: nor could he, he said, and would be contented with anything.

"No cloven Hoof as yet! It was his Birthday (yesterday), and we all had a walk to the new Lugger, and then to Mutford, where we had a fresh-water Sail on the Broad: Ale at the Inn, and Punch in the 'Suffolk' Bowling- green at night. Oh! 'tis a pleasant Time. But it passes, passes. I have not been out to Sea once since we've been here; only loitering about on shore.

"LOWESTOFT, _April_ 14/68. ['Letters,' p. 316.]

". . . Meanwhile the Crews loiter about the Town: A. Percival, Frost, and _Jack_ in his Kingfisher Guernsey: to whom Posh does the honours of the place. _He_ is still busy with his Gear: his hands of a fine Mahogany, from Stockholm tar, but I see he has some return of _hoseness_. I believe that he and I shall now sign the Mortgage Papers that make him owner of _Half_ Meum and Tuum. I only get out of him that he can't say he sees anything much amiss in the Deed. He is delightful with his Babe, whose name is Clara--'Hallo, Clara!' etc. . . ."

"LOWESTOFT, _Tuesday_, _June_ 16, 1868. [Ib.]

". . . Thank you for the Books, which were all right: except in so far that they were anointed by the oozings of some Rhubarb Jam which Mrs Berry very kindly introduced among them. I am at my Don Quixote again; and really only sorry that I can read it so much more easily this year than last that I shall be all the sooner done with it. Mackerel still come in very slow, sometimes none at all: the dead-calm nights play the deuce with the Fishing, and I see no prospect of change in the weather till the Mackerel shall be changing their Quarters. I am vexed to see the Lugger come in Day after day so poorly stored after all the Labour and Time and Anxiety given to the work by her Crew; but I can do no more, and at any-rate take my own share of the Loss very lightly. I can afford it better than they can. I have told Newson to set sail and run home any Day, Hour, or Minute, when he wishes to see his Wife and Family. But at present he seems contented to eat Fish here: whether some of the few '_Stulls_' {113} which Posh brings in, or what his now innumerable friends the Trawlers are always offering. In fact, I think Newson looks to Lowestoft as a Summer Pasture, and is in no hurry to leave it. He lives here well for nothing, except Bread, Cheese, and Tea and Sugar. He has now taken to Cocoa, however, which he calls 'Cuckoo' to my hearing; having become enamoured of that Beverage in the Lugger, where it is the order of the day. . . ."

"LOWESTOFT, _Monday_, _July_ 13, '68. [Ib.]

". . . Posh made up and paid off on Saturday. I have not yet asked him, but I suppose he has just paid his way: I mean, so far as Grub goes. The Brother of one of his Crew was killed the night we got here, in a Lugger next to Posh's, by a Barque running into her, and knocking him--or, I doubt, _crushing_ him--overboard.

". . . When _are_ we to have rain? Last night it lightened to the South, as we sat in the Suffolk Gardens--I, and Posh, and Mrs Posh, and Sparks; Newson and Jack being with some other friends in another Department. Posh and I had been sauntering in the Churchyard, and reading the Epitaphs: looking at his own little boy's Grave--'Poor little Fellow! He wouldn't let his Mother go near him--I can't think why--but kept his little Fingers twisted in my Hair, and wouldn't let me go; and when Death strook him, as I may say, halloo'd out 'Daddy!'"

"LOWESTOFT, _Sunday_, _Aug._ 30, '69. ['Letters,' p. 318.]

". . . You will see by the enclosed that Posh has had a little better luck than hitherto. One reason for my not going to Woodbridge is, that I think it possible this N.E. wind may blow him hither to tan his nets. Only please God it don't tan him and his people first. . . .

"Lord and Lady Hatherley were here last week--no, _this_ week: and I met them on the pier one day, as unaffected as ever. He is obliged, I believe, to carry the Great Seal about with him; I told him I wondered how he could submit to be so bored; on which my lady put in about "Sense of Duty," etcetera-rorum. But I (having no Great Seal to carry) went off to Southwold on Wednesday, and lay off there in the calm nights till yesterday: going to Dunwich, which seemed to me rather delightful.

"Newson brought in another Moth some days ago; brownish, with a red rump. I dare say very common, but I have taken enormous pains to murder it: buying a lump of some poison at Southwold which the Chemist warned me to throw overboard directly the Moth was done for: for fear of Jack and Newson being found dead in their rugs. The Moth is now pinned down in a lucifer match box, awaiting your inspection. You know I shall be glad to see you at any time. . . ."

"LOWESTOFT, _Sept._ 4, '69. [Ib.]

"I wish you _were_ coming here this Evening, as I have several things to talk over.

"I would not meddle with the Regatta--to Newson's sorrow, who certainly _must_ have carried off the second 10 pounds prize. And the Day ended by vexing me more than it did him. Posh drove in here the day before to tan his nets: could not help making one with some old friends in a Boat-race on the Monday, and getting very fuddled with them on the Suffolk Green (where I was) at night. After all the pains I have taken, and all the real anxiety I have had. And worst of all, after the repeated promises he had made! I said, there must now be an end of Confidence between us, so far as _that_ was concerned, and I would so far trouble myself about him no more. But when I came to reflect that this was but an outbreak among old friends on an old occasion, after (I do believe) months of sobriety; that there was no concealment about it; and that though obstinate at first as to how little drunk, &c., he was very repentant afterwards--I cannot let this one flaw weigh against the general good of the man. I cannot if I would: what then is the use of trying? But my confidence in _that_ respect must be so far shaken, and it vexes me to think that I can never be _sure_ of his not being overtaken so. I declare that it makes me feel ashamed very much to play the Judge on one who stands immeasurably above me in the scale, whose faults are better than so many virtues. Was not this very outbreak that of a great genial Boy among his old Fellows? True, a Promise was broken. Yes: but if the Whole Man be of the Royal Blood of Humanity, and do Justice in the Main, what are _the people_ to say? _He_ thought, if he thought at all, that he kept his promise in the main. But there is no use talking: unless I part company wholly, I suppose I must take the evil with the good.

"Well, Winter will soon be here, and no more 'Suffolk' Bowling-greens. Once more I want you to help in finding me a lad, or boy, or lout, who will help me to get through the long Winter nights--whether by cards or reading--now that my eyes are not so up to their work as they were. I think they are a _little_ better: which I attribute to the wearing of these hideous Goggles, which keep out Sun, Sea, Sand, &c. But I must not, if I could, tax them as I have done over books by lamplight till Midnight. Do pray consider this for me, and look about. I thought of a sharp lad--that son of the Broker--if he could read a little decently he would do. Really one has lived quite long enough.

"--will be very glad to show you his place at any time. His Wife is really a very nice Lady, and his Boy one of the nicest I have seen these 30 years. He himself sees wonderful things: he saw 2 sharks (supposed by Newson to be Sweet Williams) making love together out of the water at Covehithe; and a shoal of Porpoises tossing up a Halibut into the Air and catching it again. You may imagine Newson's demure face listening to all this, and his comments afterwards. . . ."

"SUFFOLK HOTEL, LOWESTOFT, _Sept._ 21, '69. [Ib.]

"Thank you much for your Letter, which I got last night when I went for my usual dose of Grog and Pipe.

"Posh came up with his Lugger last Friday, with a lot of torn nets, and went off again on Sunday. _I thought_ he was wrong to come up, and not to transmit his nets by Rail, as is often done at 6d. a net. But I did not say so to him,--it is no unamiable point in him to love _home_: but I think he won't make a fortune by it. However, I may be very wrong in thinking he had better _not_ have come. He has made about the average fishing, I believe: about 250 pounds. Some boats have 600 pounds, I hear; and some few not enough to pay their way.

"He came up with a very bad cold and hoarseness; and so went off, poor fellow: he never will be long well, I do think. I was foolish to forget G. Crabbe's homoeopathic _Aconite_: but I sent off some pills of it to Grimsby last night. . . ."

"LOWESTOFT, _March_ 2/70. ['Letters,' p. 324.]

". . . Posh has, I believe, gone off to Southwold in hope to bring his Lugger home. I advised him last night to ascertain first by Letter whether she _were_ ready for his hands; but you know he will go his own way, and that generally is as good as anybody's. He now works all day in his Net-loft; and I wonder how he keeps as well as he is, shut up there from fresh Air, and among frowzy Nets. But he is in good Spirits; and that goes some way to keep the Body well, you know. I think he has mistaken in not sending the Meum and Tuum to the West this Spring, not because the Weather seems to promise in all ways so much better than last (for _that_ no one could anticipate), but on account of the high Price of Fish of any sort; which has been an evident fact for the last six months. But I have not meddled, nor indeed is it my Business to meddle now. . . ."

"LOWESTOFT, _Wednesday_, _Sept._ 8, '70. ['Letters,' p. 323.]

". . . Indeed, I only write now because I am shut up in my ship by rain, and so write letters.

"I had a letter from Posh yesterday, telling me he was sorry we had not 'parted Friends.' That he had been indeed '_a little the worse_ for Drink'--which means being at a Public-house half the Day, and having to sleep it off the remainder: having been duly warned by his Father at Noon that all had been ready for sailing 2 hours before, and all the other Luggers gone. As Posh could _walk_, I suppose he only acknowledges a _little_ Drink; but, judging by what followed on that little Drink, I wish he had simply acknowledged his Fault. He begs me to write: if I do so, I must speak very plainly to him: that, with all his noble Qualities, I doubt that I can never again have Confidence in his Promise to break this one bad Habit, seeing that he has broken it so soon, when there was no occasion or excuse: unless it were the thought of leaving his Wife so ill at home. The Man is so beyond others, as I think, that I have come to feel that I must not condemn him by general rule; nevertheless, if he ask me, I can refer him to no other. I must send him back his own written Promise of Sobriety, signed only a month before he broke it so needlessly: and I must even tell him that I know not yet if he can be left with the Mortgage as we settled it in May. . . .

"_P.S._--I enclose Posh's letter, and the answer I propose to give to it. I am sure it makes me sad and ashamed to be setting up for Judge on a much nobler Creature than myself. But I must consider this a case in which the outbreak was worse than needless, and such as must almost destroy any Confidence I can feel for the future. I can only excuse it as a sort of Desperation at his Wife's Illness--strange way as he took of improving the occasion. You see it was _not_ old Friends not seen for some time, but one or two of the Crew he is always with.

"I had thought of returning him _his_ written Promise as worthless: desiring back my Direction to my Heirs that he should keep on the lugger in case of my Death. But I will wait for what you say about all this. I am really sorry to trouble you over and over again with the matter. But I am so fearful of blundering, where a Blunder may do so much harm. I think that Posh ought to be made to feel this severely: and, as his Wife is better, I do not mind making him feel it, if I can. On the other hand, I do not wish to drive him, by Despair, into the very fault which I have so tried to cure him of. Pray do consider, and write to me of this, returning me the two Papers.

"His mother did not try to excuse him at all: his Father would not even see him go off. She merely told me parenthetically, 'I tell him he seem to do it when the Governor is here.'" {121}

"LOWESTOFT, _Saturday_, _Feb._ 25, 1871. ['Letters,' p. 331.]

". . . The two Hens travelled so comfortably, that, when let out of the basket, they fed, and then fought together. _Your_ Hen was pronounced a Beauty by Posh & Co. As for mine, she stood up and crew like a Cock three times right on end, as Posh reports: a command of Voice in a Hen reputed so unlucky {122} that Mr and Mrs Fletcher, Senior, who had known of sad results from such unnatural exhibitions, recommended her being slain and stewed down forthwith. Posh, however, resolves to abide the upshot. . . . Posh and his Father are very busy getting the Meum and Tuum ready for the West; Jemmy, who goes Captain, is just now in France with a _Cargoe_ of salt Herrings. I suppose the Lugger will start in a fortnight or so. My Eyes refuse reading here, so I sit looking at the sea (with shut eyes), or gossiping with the women in the Net-loft. All- fours at night. Thank you for the speckled Hen; Posh expressed himself much obliged for his. . . ."

"LOWESTOFT, _Sunday_, _Sept._ 29/72. ['Letters,' p. 345.]

". . . Posh--after no fish caught for 3 weeks--has had his boat come home with nearly all her fleet of nets torn to pieces in last week's winds. On Wednesday he had to go 8 miles on the other side of Halesworth after a runaway--came home, drenched from top to toe, with a great Bulrush in his hand, which he could not help admiring as he went along: and went with me to the Theatre afterwards, where he admired the 'Gays,' as he called the Scenes; but fell asleep before Shylock had whetted his knife in the Merchant of Venice. . . ."

"LOWESTOFT, _Friday_, _Jan._ 9, 1874. ['Letters, p. 366.]