In the Roar of the Sea

CHAPTER XXII

JAMIE’S RIDE

“Now, Jamie! the white gate.”

“The white gate! – what about that?” He had forgotten his promise.

“You have a secret to tell me.”

Then the boy began to laugh and to tap his pockets.

“What do you think, Ju! look what I have found. Do you know what is in the loft of the cottage we were in? There are piles of tobacco, all up hidden away in the dark under the rafters. I have got my pockets stuffed as full as they will hold. It is for Uncle Zachie. Won’t he be pleased?”

“Oh, Jamie! you should not have done that.”

“Why not? Don’t scold, Ju!”

“It is stealing.”

“No, it is not. No one lives there.”

“Nevertheless it belongs to some one, by whatever means it was got, and for whatever purpose stowed away there. You had no right to touch it.”

“Then why do you take snail-shells?”

“They belong to no one, no one values them. It is other with this tobacco. Give it up. Take it back again.”

“What – to Aunt Dunes? I daren’t, she’s so cross.”

“Well, give it to me, and I will take it to her. She is now at the cottage, and the tobacco can be replaced.”

“Oh, Ju, I should like to see her scramble up the wall!”

“I do not think she will do that; but she will contrive somehow to have the tobacco restored. It is not yours, and I believe it belongs to Captain Cruel. If it be not given back now he may hear of it and be very angry.”

“He would beat me,” said the boy, hastily emptying his pockets. “I’d rather have Aunt Dunes’ jaw than Captain Cruel’s stick.” He gave the tobacco to his sister, but he was not in a good humor. He did not see the necessity for restoring it. But Jamie never disobeyed his sister, when they were alone, and she was determined with him. Before others he tried to display his independence, by feeble defiances never long maintained, and ending in a reconciliation with tears and kisses, and promises of submission without demur for the future. With all, even the most docile children, there occur epochs when they try their wings, strut and ruffle their plumes, and crow very loud – epochs of petulance or boisterous outbreak of self-assertion in the face of their guides and teachers. If the latter be firm, the trouble passes away to be renewed at a future period till manhood or womanhood is reached, and then guide and teacher who is wise falls back, lays down control, and lets the pupils have their own way. But if at the first attempts at mastery, those in authority, through indifference or feebleness or folly, give way, then the fate of the children is sealed, they are spoiled for ever.

Jamie had his rebellious fits, and they were distressing to Judith, but she never allowed herself to be conquered. She evaded provoking them whenever possible; and as much as possible led him by his affection. He had a very tender heart, was devotedly attached to his sister, and appeals to his better nature were usually successful, not always immediately, but in the long run.

Her association with Jamie had been of benefit to Judith; it had strengthened her character. She had been forced from earliest childhood to be strong where he was weak, to rule because he was incapable of ruling himself. This had nurtured in her a decision of mind, a coolness of judgment, and an inflexibility of purpose unusual in a girl of her years.

Judith walked to Othello Cottage, carrying the tobacco in her skirt, held up by both hands; and Jamie sauntered back to Polzeath, carrying his sister’s basket of shells, stopping at intervals to add to the collection, then ensconcing himself in a nook of the hedge to watch a finch, a goldhammer, or a blackbird, then stopped to observe and follow a beetle of gorgeous metallic hues that was running across the path.

Presently he emerged into the highway, the parish road; there was no main road in those parts maintained by toll-gates, and then observed a gig approach in which sat two men, one long and narrow-faced, the other tall, but stout and round-faced. He recognized the former at once as Mr. Scantlebray, the appraiser. Mr. Scantlebray, who was driving, nudged his companion, and with the butt-end of the whip pointed to the boy.

“Heigh! hi-up! Gaffer!” called Mr. Scantlebray, flapping his arms against his sides, much as does a cock with his wings. “Come along; I have something of urgent importance to say to you – something so good that it will make you squeak; something so delicious that it will make your mouth water.”

This was addressed to Jamie, as the white mare leisurely trotted up to where the boy stood. Then Scantlebray drew up, with his elbows at right angles to his trunk.

“Here’s my brother thirsting, ravening to make your acquaintance – and, by George! you are in luck’s way, young hopeful, to make his. Obadiah! this here infant is an orphing. Orphing! this is Obadiah Scantlebray, whom I call Scanty because he is fat. Jump up, will y’, into the gig.”

Jamie looked vacantly about him. He had an idea that he ought to wait for Judith or go directly home. But she had not forbidden him to have a ride, and a ride was what he dearly loved.

“Are you coming?” asked Scantlebray; “or do you need a more ceremonious introduction to Mr. Obadiah, eh?”

“I’ve got a basket of shells,” said Jamie. “They belong to Ju.”

“Well, put Ju’s basket in – the shells won’t hurt – and then in with you. There’s a nice little portmantle in front, on which you can sit and look us in the face, and if you don’t tumble off with laughing, it will be because I strap you in. My brother is the very comicalest fellow in Cornwall. It’s a wonder I haven’t died of laughter. I should have, but our paths diverged; he took up the medical line, and I the valuation and all that, so my life was saved. Are you comfortable there?”

“Yes, sir,” said Jamie, seated himself where advised.

“Now for the strap round ye,” said Scantlebray. “Don’t be alarmed; it’s to hold you together, lest you split your sides with merriment, and to hold you in, lest you tumble overboard convulsed with laughter. That brother of mine is the killingest man in Great Britain. Look at his face. Bless me! in church I should explode when I saw him, but that I am engrossed in my devotions. On with you, Juno!”

That to the gray mare, and a whip applied to make the gray mare trot along, which she did, with her head down lost in thought, or as if smelling the road, to make sure that she was on the right track.

“’Tisn’t what he says,” remarked Mr. Scantlebray, seeing a questioning expression on Jamie’s innocent face, “it’s the looks of him. And when he speaks – well, it’s the way he says it more than what he says. I was at a Charity Trust dinner, and Obadiah said to the waiter, ‘Cutlets, please!’ The fellow dropped the dish, and I stuffed my napkin into my mouth, ran out, and went into a fit. Now, Scanty, show the young gentleman how to make a rabbit.”

Then Mr. Scantlebray tickled up the mare with the lash of his whip, cast some objurgations at a horse-fly that was hovering and then darting at Juno.

Mr. Obadiah drew forth a white but very crumpled kerchief from his pocket, and proceeded to fold it on his lap.

“Just look at him,” said the agent, “doing it in spite of the motion of the gig. It’s wonderful. But his face is the butchery. I can’t look at it for fear of letting go the reins.”

The roads were unfrequented; not a person was passing as the party jogged along. Mr. Scantlebray hissed to the mare between his front teeth, which were wide apart; then, turning his eye sideways, observed what his brother was about.

“That’s his carcase,” said he, in reference to the immature rabbit.

Then a man was sighted coming along the road, humming a tune. It was Mr. Menaida.

“How are you? Compliments to the young lady orphing, and say we’re jolly – all three,” shouted Scantlebray, urging his mare to a faster pace, and keeping her up to it till they had turned a corner, and Menaida was no more in sight.

“Just look at his face, as he’s a folding of that there pockyhandkercher,” said the appraiser. “It’s exploding work.”

Jamie looked into the stolid features of Mr. Obadiah, and laughed – laughed heartily, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. Not that he saw aught humorous there, but that he was told it was there, he ought to see it, and would be a fool if he were not convulsed by it.

Precisely the same thing happens with us. We look at and go into raptures over a picture, because it is by a Royal Academician who has been knighted on account of his brilliant successes. We are charmed at a cantata, stifling our yawns, because we are told by the art critics who are paid to puff it, that we are fools, and have no ears if we do not feel charmed by it. We rush to read a new novel, and find it vastly clever, because an eminent statesman has said on a postcard it has pleased him.

We laugh when told to laugh, condemn when told to condemn, and would stand on our heads if informed that it was bad for us to walk on our feet.

“There!” said Mr. Scantlebray, the valuer. “Them’s ears.”

“Crrrh!” went Mr. Obadiah, and the handkerchief, converted into a white bunny, shot from his hand up his sleeve.

“I can’t drive, ’pon my honor; I’m too ill. You have done me for to-day,” said Scantlebray the elder, the valuer. “Now, young hopeful, what say you? Will you make a rabbit, also? I’ll give you a shilling if you will.”

Thereupon Jamie took the kerchief and spread it out, and began to fold it. Whenever he went wrong Mr. Obadiah made signs, either by elevation of his brows and a little shake of his head, or by pointing, and his elder brother caught him at it and protested. Obadiah was the drollest fellow, he was incorrigible, as full of mischief as an egg is full of meat. There was no trusting him for a minute when the eye was off him.

“Come, Scanty! I’ll put you on your honor. Look the other way.” But a moment after – “Ah, for shame! there you are at it again. Young hopeful, you see what a vicious brother I have; perfectly untrustworthy, but such a comical dog. Full of tricks up to the ears. You should see him make shadows on the wall. He can represent a pig eating out of a trough. You see the ears flap, the jaws move, the eye twinkle in appreciation of the barley-meal. It is to the life, and all done by the two hands – by one, I may say, for the other serves as trough. What! Done the rabbit! First rate! Splendid! Here is the shilling. But, honor bright, you don’t deserve it; that naughty Scanty helped you.”

“Please,” said Jamie, timidly, “may I get out now and go home?”

“Go home! What for?”

“I want to show Ju my shilling.”

“By ginger! that is too rich. Not a bit of it. Do you know Mistress Polgrean’s sweetie shop?”

“But that’s at Wadebridge.”

“At Wadebridge; and why not? You will spend your shilling there. But look at my brother. It is distressing; his eyes are alight at the thoughts of the tartlets, and the sticks of peppermint sugar, and the almond rock. Are you partial to almond rock, orphin?”

Jamie’s mind was at once engaged.

“Which is it to be? Gingerbreads or tartlets, almond rock or barley-sugar?”

“I think I’ll have the peppermint,” said Jamie.

“Then peppermint it shall be. And you will give me a little bit, and Scanty a bit, and take a little bit home to Ju, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He’ll take a little bit home to Ju, Obadiah, old man.”

The funny brother nodded.

“And the basket of shells?” asked the elder.

“Yes, she is making little boxes with them to sell,” said Jamie.

“I suppose I may have the privilege of buying some,” said Mr. Scantlebray, senior. “Oh, look at that brother of mine! How he is screwing his nose about! I say, old man, are you ill? Upon my life, I believe he is laughing.”

Presently Jamie got restless.

“Please, Mr. Scantlebray, may I get out? Ju will be frightened at my being away so long.”

“Poor Ju!” said Scantlebray, the elder. “But no – don’t you worry your mind about that. We passed Uncle Zachie, and he will tell her where you are, in good hands, or rather, nipped between most reliable knees – my brother’s and mine. Sit still. I can’t stop Juno; we’re going down-hill now, and if I stopped Juno she would fall. You must wait – wait till we get to Mrs. Polgrean’s.” Then, after chuckling-to himself, Scantlebray, senior, said: “Obadiah, old man, I wonder what Missie Ju is thinking? I wonder what she will say, eh?” Again he chuckled. “No place in your establishment for that party, eh?”

The outskirts of Wadebridge were reached.

“Now may I get out?” said Jamie.

“Bless my heart! Not yet. Wait for Mrs. Polgrean’s.”

But presently Mrs. Polgrean’s shop-window was passed.

“Oh, stop! stop!” cried Jamie. “We have gone by the sweetie shop.”

“Of course we have,” answered Scantlebray, senior. “I daren’t trust that brother of mine in there; he has such a terrible sweet tooth. Besides, I want you to see the pig eating out of the trough. It will kill you. If it don’t I’ll give you another shilling.”

Presently he drew up at the door of a stiff, square-built house, with a rambling wing thrown out on one side. It was stuccoed and painted drab – drab walls, drab windows, and drab door.

“Now, then, young man,” said Scantlebray, cheerily, “I’ll unbuckle the strap and let you out. You come in with me. This is my brother’s mansion, roomy, pleasant, and comprehensive. You shall have a dish of tea.”

“And then I may go home?”

“And then – we shall see; shan’t we, Obadiah, old man?”

They entered the hall, and the door was shut and fastened behind them; then into a somewhat dreary room, with red flock paper on the walls, no pictures, leather-covered, old, mahogany chairs, and a book or two on the table – one of these a Bible.

Jamie looked wonderingly about him, a little disposed to cry. He was a long way from Polzeath, and Judith would be waiting for him and anxious, and the place into which he was ushered was not cheery, not inviting.

“Now, then,” said Mr. Scantlebray, “young hopeful, give me my shilling.”

“Please, I’m going to buy some peppermint and burnt almonds for Ju and me as I go back.”

“Oh, indeed! But suppose you do not have the chance?”

Jamie looked vacantly in his face, then into that of the stolid brother, who was not preparing to show him the pig feeding out of a trough, nor was he calling for tea.

“Come,” said Scantlebray, the elder; “suppose I take charge of that shilling till you have the chance of spending it, young man.”

“Please, I’ll spend it now.”

“Not a bit. You won’t have the chance. Do you know where you are!”

Jamie looked round in distress. He was becoming frightened at the altered tone of the valuer.

“My dear,” said Mr. Scantlebray, “you’re now an honorable inmate of my brother’s Establishment for Idiots, which you don’t leave till cured of imbecility. That shilling, if you please?”

CHAPTER XXIII

ALL IS FOR THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS

Judith returned to the cottage of Mr. Menaida, troubled in mind, for Aunt Dunes had been greatly incensed at the taking of the tobacco by Jamie, and not correspondingly gratified by the return of it so promptly by Judith. Miss Trevisa was a woman who magnified and resented any wrong done, but minimized and passed over as unworthy of notice whatever was generous, and every attempt made to repay an evil. Such attempts not only met with no favor from her, but were perverted in her crabbed mind into fresh affronts or injuries. That the theft of Jamie would not have been discovered had not Judith spoken of it and brought back what had been taken, was made of no account by Aunt Dionysia; she attacked Judith with sharp reproach for allowing the boy to be mischievous, for indulging him and suffering him to run into danger through his inquisitiveness and thoughtlessness. “For,” said Aunt Dionysia, “had the master or any of his men found out what Jamie had done there is no telling how he might have been served.” Then she had muttered: “If you will not take precautions, other folk must, and the boy must be put where he can be properly looked after and kept from interfering with the affairs of others.”

On reaching Mr. Menaida’s cottage, Judith called her brother, but as she did not receive an answer, she went in quest of him, and was met by the servant, Jump. “If you please, miss,” said Jump, “there’s been two gen’lemen here, as said they was come from Mrs. Trevisa, and said they was to pack and take off Master Jamie’s clothes. And please miss, I didn’t know what to do – they was gen’lemen, and the master – he was out, and you was out, miss – and Master Jamie, he wasn’t to home n’other.”

“Taken Jamie’s clothes!” repeated Judith, in amazement.

“Yes, miss, they brought a portmantle a-purpose; and they’d a gig at the door; and they spoke uncommon pleasant, leastwise one o’ them did.”

“And where is Jamie? Has he not come home?”

“No, miss.”

At that moment Mr. Menaida came in.

“What is it, Judith? Jamie? Where Jamie is? – why, having a ride, seated between the two Scantlebrays, in their gig. That is where he is.”

“Oh, Mr. Menaida, but they have taken his clothes!”

“Whose clothes?”

“Jamie’s.”

“I do not understand.”

“The two gentlemen came to this house when you and I were out, and told Jump that they were empowered by my aunt to pack up and carry off all Jamie’s clothing, which they put into a portmanteau they had brought with them.”

“And then picked up Jamie. He was sitting on the portmanteau,” said Uncle Zachie; then his face became grave. “They said that they acted under authority from Mrs. Trevisa?”

“So Jump says.”

“It can surely not be that he has been moved to the asylum.”

“Asylum, Mr. Menaida?”

“The idiot asylum.”

Judith uttered a cry, and staggered back against the wall.

“Jamie! my brother Jamie!”

“Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray has such a place at Wadebridge.”

“But Jamie is not an idiot.”

“Your aunt authorized them – ,” mused Uncle Zachie. “Humph! you should see her about it. That is the first step, and ascertain whether she has done it, or whether they are acting with a high hand for themselves. I’ll look at my law-books – if the latter it would be actionable.”

Judith did not hesitate for a moment. She hastened to Pentyre. That her aunt had left Othello Cottage she was pretty sure, as she was preparing to leave it when Judith returned with the tobacco. Accordingly she took the road to Pentyre at once. Tears of shame and pain welled up in her eyes at the thought of her darling brother being beguiled away to be locked up among the imbecile in a private establishment for the insane. Then her heart was contracted with anger and resentment at the scurvy trick played on her and him: She did not know that the Scantlebrays had been favored by pure accident. She conceived that men base enough to carry off her brother would watch and wait for the opportunity when to do it unobserved and unopposed. She hardly walked. She ran till her breath failed her, and the rapid throbbing of her heart would no longer allow her to run. Her dread of approaching the Glaze after the declaration made by Captain Cruel was overwhelmed in her immediate desire to know something about Jamie, in her anguish of fear for him. On Coppinger she did not cast a thought – her mind was so fully engrossed in her brother.

She saw nothing of the Captain. She entered the house, and proceeded at once to her aunt’s apartment. She found Miss Trevisa there, seated near the window, engaged on some chintz that she thought would do for the window at Othello Cottage, when she took possession of it. She had measured the piece, found that it was suitable, and was turning down a hem and tacking it. It was a pretty chintz, covered with sprigs of nondescript pink and blue flowers.

Judith burst in on her, breathless, her brow covered with dew, her bosom heaving, her face white with distress, and tears standing on her eyelashes. She threw herself on her knees before Miss Trevisa, half crying out and half sobbing:

“Oh, aunt! they have taken him!”

“Who have taken whom?” asked the elderly lady, coldly.

She raised her eyes and cast a look full of malevolence at Judith. She never had, did not, never would feel toward that girl as a niece. She hated her for her mother’s sake, and now she felt an unreasonable bitterness against her, because she had fascinated Coppinger – perhaps, also, because in a dim fashion she was aware that she herself was acting toward the child in an unworthy, unmerciful manner, and we all hate those whom we wrong.

“Auntie! tell me it is not so. Mr. Scantlebray and his brother have carried my darling Jamie away.”

“Well, and what of that!”

“But – will they let me have him back?”

Miss Trevisa pulled at the chintz. “I will trouble you not to crumple this,” she said.

“Aunt! dear aunt! you did not tell Mr. Scantlebray to take Jamie away from me?”

The old lady did not answer, she proceeded to release the material at which she was engaged from under the knees of Judith. The girl, in her vehemence, put her hands to her aunt’s arms, between the elbows and shoulders, and held and pressed them back, and with imploring eyes looked into her hard face.

“Oh, auntie! you never sent Jamie to an asylum?”

“I must beg you to let go my arms,” said Miss Trevisa. “This conduct strikes me as most indecorous toward one of my age and relationship.”

She avoided Judith’s eye, her brow wrinkled, and her lips contracted. The gall in her heart rose and overflowed.

“I am not ashamed of what I have done.”

“Auntie!” with a cry of pain. Then Judith let go the old lady’s arms, and clasped her hands over her eyes.

“Really,” said Miss Trevisa, with asperity, “you are a most exasperating person. I shall do with the boy what I see fit. You know very well that he is a thief.”

“He never took anything before to-day – never – and you had settled this before you knew about the tobacco!” burst from Judith, in anger and with floods of tears.

“I knew that he has always been troublesome and mischievous, and he must be placed where he can be properly managed by those accustomed to such cases.”

“There is nothing the matter with Jamie.”

“You have humored and spoiled him. If he is such a plague to all who know him, it is because he has been treated injudiciously. He is now with men who are experienced, and able to deal with the like of Jamie.”

“Aunt, he must not be there. I promised my papa to be ever with him, and to look after him.”

“Then it is a pity your father did not set this down in writing. Please to remember that I, and not you, am constituted his guardian, by the terms of the will.”

“Oh, aunt! aunt! let him come back to me!”

Miss Trevisa shook her head.

“Then let me go to him!”

“Hoity-toity! here’s airs and nonsense. Really, Judith, you are almost imbecile enough to qualify for the asylum. But I cannot afford the cost of you both. Jamie’s cost in that establishment will be £70 in the year, and how much do you suppose that you possess?”

Judith remained kneeling upright, with her hands clasped, looking earnestly through her tears at her aunt.