her.’ ‘Every thing she has got or ever will have,’ I replied, as fast as I could utter the words. ‘My father and mother are excellent people, and they have kindly offered us a house, and’ – ‘is that it, Mr Loring? And you have nothing – absolutely nothing?’ shrieked out the old woman. Oh, how I hated her! ‘Then, sir, I beg you will clearly understand, that from this moment all communication between you and my daughter ceases for ever. I could not have believed that any gentleman would have been guilty of such impertinence. What! a man without a penny to think of marrying my daughter, with her beauty and her fortune! There, sir, you have got my answer; I hope you understand it. Go, sir; go!’ I did go, without uttering another word, though I gave her a look which ought to have confounded her; and here you see me a miserable, heartbroken man. I have been in vain trying to get a glimpse of Jane, to ask her if it was by her will that I am thus discarded, and if so, to whistle her down the wind; but I have dreadful suspicions that it was a plot between them to get rid of me, and if so, I have had a happy escape.”
I have an idea that his last suspicion was right. Poor fellow, I pitied him. It struck me as a piece of arrant folly on the part of the mother, that a nice, gentlemanly, good-looking fellow should be sent to the right-about simply because he was poor, when the young lady had ample fortune for them both.
“Look here!” exclaimed Loring, bitterly; “is it not enough to make a man turn sick with grief and pain as he looks round and sees those he once knew as blooming, nice girls growing into crusty old maids, because their parents chose to insist on an establishment and settlement for them equal to what they themselves enjoy, instead of remembering the altered circumstances of the times? Not one man in ten has a fortune; and if the talents and energy of the rising generation are not to be considered as such, Hymen may blow out his torch and cut his stick, and the fair maidens of England will have to sing for ever and a day, ‘Nobody coming to marry me, nobody coming to woo.’”
I laughed, though I felt the truth of what he said. “But are you certain that you are disinterested? Were you in no way biassed in your love by her supposed-fortune?” I asked.
“On my word, I was not. I never thought of the tin,” was the answer.
“Then,” I replied, “I must say that you are a very ill-used gentleman.”
Chapter Six
I had promised to yacht during the summer with Hearty; and as he paid me the compliment of saying that he could not do without me, notwithstanding several other invitations I had received, I felt myself in honour bound to rejoin the “Frolic.” I had no disinclination to so doing, though I own at times we led rather a more rollicking life than altogether suited my taste. Accordingly, I once more took up my berth aboard the “Frolic.” Hearty was growing somewhat tired of the style of life he was leading. He wanted more variety, more excitement. Indeed, floating about inside the Isle of Wight with parties of ladies on board is all very well in its way to kill time, but unless one of the fair creatures happens to be the only girl he ever loved, or, at all events, the only girl he loves just then, or the girl he loves best, he very soon wearies of the amusement, if he is worth any thing, and longs for the wide ocean, and a mixture of storms with sunshine and smooth water. I found the party on board the “Frolic” increased by the addition of two. The most worthy of note was Tom Porpoise, a thorough seaman, and as good a fellow as ever stepped. He had entered into an arrangement with Hearty to act as captain of the yacht; for though Snow was a very good sailing-master, he was nothing of a navigator, and Hearty was now contemplating a trip to really distant lands.
Porpoise was a lieutenant in the navy of some years’ standing; he had seen a great deal of service, and was considered a good officer. He sang a good song, told a good story, and was always in good spirits and good humour. He had been in the Syrian war, in China, on the coast of Africa, and in South America; indeed, wherever there had been any fighting, or work of any sort to be done, there has dashing Tom Porpoise been found. He had a good appetite, and, as old Snow used to say, his victuals did him good. Porpoise was fat; there was no denying the fact, nor was he ashamed of it. His height was suited to the dimensions of a small craft, and then, having stated that his face was red, not from intemperance, but from sun and spray, I think that I have sufficiently described our most excellent chum.
The other addition of note was ycleped Gregory Groggs. How Hearty came to ask him on board I do not know. It could scarcely have been for his companionable qualities, nor for his general knowledge and information; for I had seldom met a more simple-minded creature – one who had seen less of the world, or knew less of its wicked ways. It was his first trip to sea, and he afforded us no little amusement by his surprise at every thing he beheld, and every thing which occurred. He had a tolerably strong inside; so, as we had fine weather, he fortunately for us and for himself, was seldom sea-sick. Our friend Groggs was a native of an inland county, from which he had never before stirred, when, having come into some little property, he was seized with a strong desire to see the world. He had been reading some book or other which had given him most extraordinary principles; and one of his ideas was, that people should marry others of a different nation, as the only way of securing peace throughout the world. He informed us that he should early put his principles into practice, and that, should he find some damsel to suit his taste in France, he should without fail wed her. We bantered him unmercifully on the subject; but, as is the case with many other people with one idea, that was not easily knocked out of his head.
Hearty, having fallen in with him on a visit to his part of the country, invited him, should he ever come to the sea-side, to visit the “Frolic.” By a wonderful chance, Groggs did find his way on board the yacht, as she one day had gone up to Southampton, and once on board, finding himself very comfortable, he exhibited no inclination to leave her. He therein showed his taste; and Hearty, though at first he would have dispensed with his company, at last got accustomed to him, and would have been almost sorry to part with him.
So much for Groggs.
We lay at anchor off Cowes. Several other vessels lay there also, mostly schooners – a rig which has lately much come into fashion.
“What shall we do next?” exclaimed Hearty, as we sat at table after dinner over our biscuits and wine.
“What shall we do next?” said Carstairs, repeating Hearty’s question; “why, I vote we go on deck and smoke a cigar.”
We had not time to execute the important proposal before the steward put his head into the cabin and announced a boat alongside.
“Who is it?” asked Hearty.
“Mr O’Wiggins, of the ‘Popple’ schooner, sir,” answered the steward. “She brought up while you were at dinner, sir.”
“Oh, ask him down below,” said our host, throwing himself back in his chair with a resigned look, which said, more than words, “What a bore!”
Before the steward could reach the deck, O’Wiggins was heard descending the companion-ladder. He was a tall, broadly-built man, with a strongly marked Hibernian countenance. Hearty did not think it necessary to rise to receive his guest, but O’Wiggins, no way disconcerted, threw himself into a vacant chair.
“Ah, Hearty, my boy! Faith, I’m glad to find any one I know in this dull place,” he exclaimed, stretching out his legs, and glancing round at the rest of us, as he helped himself from a decanter towards which Hearty pointed.
“We are not likely to be here long, but we are undecided what next to do,” returned Hearty.
“Och, then, I’ll tell you what to do, my boy,” said O’Wiggins. “Just look in at the regattas to the westward, and then run over to Cherbourg. I’ve just come across from there, and all the world of France is talking of the grand naval review they are to have of a fleet, in comparison to which that of perfidious Albion is as a collection of Newcastle colliers. There’ll be rare fun of one sort or another, depend on it; and, for my part, I wouldn’t miss it on any account. What say your friends to the idea? I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting them before, I think?”
“I beg your pardon,”