“P. S. – I have just heard that they have sent you the red riband. The king himself, was in this.”
When Sir Gervaise had perused this precious epistle to himself, he read it slowly, and in a steady, clear voice, aloud. When he had ended, he dropped the paper, and stood gazing at his friend.
“One would think the fellow some exquisite satirist,” said Bluewater, laughing. “I am to be vigilant, and see that you do not mutiny, and run away with the fleet to the Highlands, one of these foggy mornings! Carry it up into Scotland, as Galleygo has it! Now, what is your opinion of that letter?”
“That all courtiers are knaves, and all princes ungrateful. I should think my loyalty to the good cause, if not to the man, the last in England to be suspected.”
“Nor is it suspected, in the smallest degree. My life on it, neither the reigning monarch, nor his confidential servants, are such arrant dunces, as to be guilty of so much weakness. No, this masterly move is intended to secure me, by creating a confidence that they think no generous-minded man would betray. It is a hook, delicately baited to catch a gudgeon, and not an order to watch a whale.”
“Can the scoundrels be so mean – nay, dare they be so bold! They must have known you would show me the letter.”
“Not they – they have reasoned on my course, as they would on their own. Nothing catches a weak man sooner than a pretended confidence of this nature; and I dare say this blackguard rates me just high enough to fancy I may be duped in this flimsy manner. Put your mind at rest; King George knows he may confide in you, while I think it probable I am distrusted.”
“I hope, Dick, you do not suspect my discretion! My own secret would not be half so sacred to me.”
“I know that, full well. Of you, I entertain no distrust, either in heart or head; of myself, I am not quite so certain. When we feel, we do not always reason; and there is as much feeling, as any thing else, in this matter.”
“Not a line is there, in all my despatches, that go to betray the slightest distrust of me, or any one else. You are spoken of, but it is in a manner to gratify you, rather than to alarm. Take, and read them all; I intended to show them to you, as soon as we had got through with that cursed discussion”
As Sir Gervaise concluded, he threw the whole package of letters on the table, before his friend.
“It will be time enough, when you summon me regularly to a council of war,” returned Bluewater, laying the letters gently aside. “Perhaps we had better sleep on this affair; in the morning we shall meet with cooler heads, and just as warm hearts.”
“Good-night, Dick,” said Sir Gervaise, holding out both hands for the other to shake as he passed him, in quitting the room.
“Good-night, Gervaise; let this miserable devil go overboard, and think no more of him. I have half a mind to ask you for a leave, to-morrow, just to run up to London, and cut off his ears.”
Sir Gervaise laughed and nodded his head, and the two friends parted, with feelings as kind as ever had distinguished their remarkable career.
Chapter VIII
“Look to’t, think on’t, I do not use to jest. Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise; An’ you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend; An’ you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i’ the streets.”
Wychecombe Hall, had most of the peculiarities of a bachelor’s dwelling, in its internal government; nor was it, in any manner, behind, or, it might be better to say, before, the age, in its modes and customs connected with jollifications. When its master relaxed a little, the servants quite uniformly imitated his example. Sir Wycherly kept a plentiful table, and the servants’ hall fared nearly as well as the dining-room; the single article of wine excepted. In lieu of the latter, however, was an unlimited allowance of double-brewed ale; and the difference in the potations was far more in the name, than in the quality of the beverages. The master drank port; for, in the middle of the last century, few Englishmen had better wine – and port, too, that was by no means of a very remarkable delicacy, but which, like those who used it, was rough, honest, and strong; while the servant had his malt liquor of the very highest stamp and flavour. Between indifferent wine and excellent ale, the distance is not interminable; and Sir Wycherly’s household, was well aware of the fact, having frequently instituted intelligent practical comparisons, by means of which, all but the butler and Mrs. Larder had come to the conclusion to stand by the home-brewed.
On the present occasion, not a soul in the house was ignorant of the reason why the baronet was making a night of it. Every man, woman, and child, in or about the Hall, was a devoted partisan of the house of Hanover; and as soon as it was understood that this feeling was to be manifested by drinking “success to King George, and God bless him,” on the one side; and “confusion to the Pretender, and his mad son,” on the other; all under the roof entered into the duty, with a zeal that might have seated a usurper on a throne, if potations could do it.
When Admiral Bluewater, therefore, left the chamber of his friend, the signs of mirth and of a regular debauch were so very obvious, that a little curiosity to watch the result, and a disinclination to go off to his ship so soon, united to induce him to descend into the rooms below, with a view to get a more accurate knowledge of the condition of the household. In crossing the great hall, to enter the drawing-room, he encountered Galleygo, when the following discourse took place.
“I should think the master-at-arms has not done his duty, and dowsed the glim below, Master Steward,” said the rear-admiral, in his quiet way, as they met; “the laughing, and singing, and hiccupping, are all upon a very liberal scale for a respectable country-house.”
Galleygo touched the lock of hair on his forehead, with one hand, and gave his trowsers a slue with the other, before he answered; which he soon did, however, though with a voice a little thicker than was usual with him, on account of his having added a draught or two to those he had taken previously to visiting Sir Gervaise’s dressing-room; and which said additional draught or two, had produced some such effect on his system, as the fresh drop produces on the cup that is already full.
“That’s just it, Admiral Blue,” returned the steward, in passing good-humour, though still sober enough to maintain the decencies, after his own fashion; “that’s just it, your honour. They’ve passed the word below to let the lights stand for further orders, and have turned the hands up for a frolic. Such ale as they has, stowed in the lower hold of this house, like leaguers in the ground-tier, it does a body’s heart good to conter’plate. All hands is bowsing out their jibs on it, sir, and the old Hall will soon be carrying as much sail as she can stagger under. It’s nothing but loose-away and sheet-home.”
“Ay, ay, Galleygo, this may be well enough for the people of the household, if Sir Wycherly allows it; but it ill becomes the servants of guests to fall into this disorder. If I find Tom has done any thing amiss, he will hear more of it; and as your own master is not here to admonish you, I’ll just take the liberty of doing it for him, since I know it would mortify him exceedingly to learn that his steward had done any thing to disgrace himself.”
“Lord bless your dear soul, Admiral Blue, take just as many liberties as you think fit, and I’ll never pocket one on ‘em. I know’d you, when you was only a young gentleman, and now you’re a rear. You’re close on our heels; and by the time we are a full admiral, you’ll be something like a vice. I looks upon you as bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh, – Pillardees and Arrestees – and I no more minds a setting-down from your honour, than I does from Sir Jarvy, hisself.”
“I believe that is true enough, Galleygo; but take my advice, and knock off with the ale for to-night. Can you tell me how the land lies, with the rest of the company?”
“You couldn’t have asked a better person, your honour, as I’ve