by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XIII
NARRATIVE OF ALAN FAIRFORD, CONTINUED
Fairford followed his gruff guide among a labyrinth of barrels andpuncheons, on which he had more than once like to have broken his nose,and from thence into what, by the glimpse of the passing lantern upon adesk and writing materials, seemed to be a small office for thedispatch of business. Here there appeared no exit; but the smuggler, orsmuggler's ally, availing himself of a ladder, removed an old picture,which showed a door about seven feet from the ground, and Fairford,still following Job, was involved in another tortuous and dark passage,which involuntarily reminded him of Peter Peebles's lawsuit. At the endof this labyrinth, when he had little guess where he had been conducted,and was, according to the French phrase, totally DESORIENTE, Jobsuddenly set down the lantern, and availing himself of the flame tolight two candles which stood on the table, asked if Alan would chooseanything to eat, recommending, at all events, a slug of brandy tokeep out the night air. Fairford declined both, but inquired after hisbaggage.
'The old master will take care of that himself,' said Job Rutledge; anddrawing back in the direction in which he had entered, he vanished fromthe farther end of the apartment, by a mode which the candles, stillshedding an imperfect light, gave Alan no means of ascertaining. Thusthe adventurous young lawyer was left alone in the apartment to which hehad been conducted by so singular a passage.
In this condition, it was Alan's first employment to survey, with someaccuracy, the place where he was; and accordingly, having trimmed thelights, he walked slowly round the apartment, examining its appearanceand dimensions. It seemed to be such a small dining-parlour as isusually found in the house of the better class of artisans, shopkeepers,and such persons, having a recess at the upper end, and the usualfurniture of an ordinary description. He found a door, which heendeavoured to open, but it was locked on the outside. A correspondingdoor on the same side of the apartment admitted him into a closet, uponthe front shelves of which were punch-bowls, glasses, tea-cups, and thelike, while on one side was hung a horseman's greatcoat of the coarsestmaterials, with two great horse-pistols peeping out of the pocket,and on the floor stood a pair of well-spattered jack-boots, the usualequipment of the time, at least for long journeys.
Not greatly liking the contents of the closet, Alan Fairford shut thedoor, and resumed his scrutiny round the walls of the apartment, inorder to discover the mode of Job Rutledge's retreat. The secret passagewas, however, too artificially concealed, and the young lawyer hadnothing better to do than to meditate on the singularity of his presentsituation. He had long known that the excise laws had occasioned anactive contraband trade betwixt Scotland and England, which then, asnow, existed, and will continue to exist until the utter abolition ofthe wretched system which establishes an inequality of duties betwixtthe different parts of the same kingdom; a system, be it said inpassing, mightily resembling the conduct of a pugilist, who should tieup one arm that he might fight the better with the other. But Fairfordwas unprepared for the expensive and regular establishments by which theillicit traffic was carried on, and could not have conceived that thecapital employed in it should have been adequate to the erection ofthese extensive buildings, with all their contrivances for secrecy ofcommunication. He was musing on these circumstances, not without someanxiety for the progress of his own journey, when suddenly, as helifted his eyes, he discovered old Mr. Trumbull at the upper end of theapartment, bearing in one hand a small bundle, in the other his darklantern, the light of which, as he advanced, he directed full uponFairford's countenance.
Though such an apparition was exactly what he expected, yet he didnot see the grim, stern old man present himself thus suddenly withoutemotion; especially when he recollected, what to a youth of his piouseducation was peculiarly shocking, that the grizzled hypocrite wasprobably that instant arisen from his knees to Heaven, for the purposeof engaging in the mysterious transactions of a desperate and illegaltrade.
The old man, accustomed to judge with ready sharpness of the physiognomyof those with whom he had business, did not fail to remark somethinglike agitation in Fairford's demeanour. 'Have ye taken the rue?' saidhe. 'Will ye take the sheaf from the mare, and give up the venture?'
'Never!' said Fairford, firmly, stimulated at once by his naturalspirit, and the recollection of his friend; 'never, while I have lifeand strength to follow it out!'
'I have brought you,' said Trumbull, 'a clean shirt, and some stockings,which is all the baggage you can conveniently carry, and I will causeone of the lads lend you a horseman's coat, for it is ill sailing orriding without one; and, touching your valise, it will be as safe inmy poor house, were it full of the gold of Ophir, as if it were in thedepth of the mine.' 'I have no doubt of it,' said Fairford.
'And now,' said Trumbull, again, 'I pray you to tell me by what name Iam to name you to Nanty (which is Antony) Ewart?'
'By the name of Alan Fairford,' answered the young lawyer.
'But that,' said Mr. Trumbull, in reply, 'is your own proper name andsurname.'
'And what other should I give?' said the young man; 'do you think Ihave any occasion for an alias? And, besides, Mr. Trumbull,' added Alan,thinking a little raillery might intimate confidence of spirit, 'youblessed yourself, but a little while since, that you had no acquaintancewith those who defiled their names so far as to be obliged to changethem.'
'True, very true,' said Mr. Trumbull; 'nevertheless, young man, my greyhairs stand unreproved in this matter; for, in my line of business, whenI sit under my vine and my fig-tree, exchanging the strong waters of thenorth for the gold which is the price thereof, I have, I thank Heaven,no disguises to keep with any man, and wear my own name of ThomasTrumbull, without any chance that the same may be polluted. Whereas,thou, who art to journey in miry ways, and amongst a strange people,mayst do well to have two names, as thou hast two shirts, the one tokeep the other clean.'
Here he emitted a chuckling grunt, which lasted for two vibrations ofthe pendulum exactly, and was the only approach towards laughter inwhich old Turnpenny, as he was nicknamed, was ever known to indulge.
'You are witty, Mr. Trumbull,' said Fairford; 'but jests are noarguments--I shall keep my own name.'
'At your own pleasure,' said the merchant; 'there is but one namewhich,' &c. &c, &c.
We will not follow the hypocrite through the impious cant which headded, in order to close the subject.
Alan followed him, in silent abhorrence, to the recess in which thebeaufet was placed, and which was so artificially made as to concealanother of those traps with which the whole building abounded. Thisconcealment admitted them to the same winding passage by which the younglawyer had been brought thither. The path which they now took amidthese mazes, differed from the direction in which he had been guidedby Rutledge. It led upwards, and terminated beneath a garret window.Trumbull opened it, and with more agility than his age promised,clambered out upon the leads. If Fairford's journey had been hitherto ina stifled and subterranean atmosphere, it was now open, lofty, and airyenough; for he had to follow his guide over leads and slates, whichthe old smuggler traversed with the dexterity of a cat. It is true, hiscourse was facilitated by knowing exactly where certain stepping-placesand holdfasts were placed, of which Fairford could not so readily availhimself; but, after a difficult and somewhat perilous progress alongthe roofs of two or three houses, they at length descended by a skylightinto a garret room, and from thence by the stairs into a public-house;for such it appeared, by the ringing of bells, whistling for waiters andattendance, bawling of 'House, house, here!' chorus of sea songs, andthe like noises.
Having descended to the second story, and entered a room there in whichthere was a light, old Mr. Trumbull rang the bell of the apartmentthrice, with an interval betwixt each, during which he told deliberatelythe number twenty. Immediately after the third ringing the landlordappeared, with stealthy step, and an appearance of mystery on his buxomvisage. He greeted Mr. Trumbull, who was his landlord as it proved, withgreat res
pect, and expressed some surprise at seeing him so late, as hetermed it, 'on Saturday e'en.'
'And I, Robin Hastie,' said the landlord to the tenant, am moresurprised than pleased, to hear sae muckle din in your house, Robie, sonear the honourable Sabbath; and I must mind you that it is contraveningthe terms of your tack, whilk stipulates that you should shut yourpublic on Saturday at nine o'clock, at latest.'
'Yes, sir,' said Robin Hastie, no way alarmed at the gravity of therebuke, 'but you must take tent that I have admitted naebody but you,Mr. Trumbull (who by the way admitted yoursell), since nine o'clock forthe most of the folk have been here for several hours about the lading,and so on, of the brig. It is not full tide yet, and I cannot put themen out into the street. If I did, they would go to some other public,and their souls would be nane the better, and my purse muckle the waur;for how am I to pay the rent if I do not sell the liquor?'
'Nay, then,' said Thomas Trumbull, 'if it is a work of necessity, andin the honest independent way of business, no doubt there is balm inGilead. But prithee, Robin, wilt thou see if Nanty Ewart be, as is mostlikely, amongst these unhappy topers; and if so, let him step this waycannily, and speak to me and this young gentleman. And it's dry talking,Robin--you must minister to us a bowl of punch--ye ken my gage.'
'From a mutchkin to a gallon, I ken your honour's taste, Mr. ThomasTrumbull,' said mine host; 'and ye shall hang me over the signpost ifthere be a drap mair lemon or a curn less sugar than just suits you.There are three of you--you will be for the auld Scots peremptorypint-stoup for the success of the voyage?' [The Scottish pint of liquidmeasure comprehends four English measures of the same denomination. Thejest is well known of my poor countryman, who, driven to extremity bythe raillery of the Southern, on the small denomination of the Scottishcoin, at length answered, 'Aye, aye! But the deil tak them that has theLEAST PINT-STOUP.']
'Better pray for it than drink for it, Robin,' said Mr. Trumbull. 'Yoursis a dangerous trade, Robin; it hurts mony a ane--baith host and guest.But ye will get the blue bowl, Robin--the blue bowl--that will slokenall their drouth, and prevent the sinful repetition of whipping foran eke of a Saturday at e'en. Aye, Robin, it is a pity of NantyEwart--Nanty likes the turning up of his little finger unco weel, and wemaunna stint him, Robin, so as we leave him sense to steer by.'
'Nanty Ewart could steer through the Pentland Firth though he were asdrunk as the Baltic Ocean,' said Robin Hastie; and instantly trippingdownstairs, he speedily returned with the materials for what he calledhis BROWST, which consisted of two English quarts of spirits, in a hugeblue bowl, with all the ingredients for punch in the same formidableproportion. At the same time he introduced Mr. Antony or Nanty Ewart,whose person, although he was a good deal flustered with liquor,was different from what Fairford expected. His dress was what isemphatically termed the shabby genteel--a frock with tarnished lace--asmall cocked hat, ornamented in a similar way--a scarlet waistcoat, withfaded embroidery, breeches of the same, with silver knee-bands, and hewore a smart hanger and a pair of pistols in a sullied swordbelt.
'Here I come, patron,' he said, shaking hands with Mr. Trumbull. 'Well,I see you have got some grog aboard.'
'It is not my custom, Mr. Ewart,' said the old gentleman, 'as you wellknow, to become a chamberer or carouser thus late on Saturday at e'en;but I wanted to recommend to your attention a young friend of ours,that is going upon a something particular journey, with a letter to ourfriend the Laird from Pate-in-Peril, as they call him.'
'Aye--indeed?--he must be in high trust for so young a gentleman. I wishyou joy, sir,' bowing to Fairford. 'By'r lady, as Shakespeare says, youare bringing up a neck for a fair end. Come, patron, we will drink toMr. What-shall-call-um. What is his name? Did you tell me? And have Iforgot it already.'
'Mr. Alan Fairford,' said Trumbull.
'Aye, Mr. Alan Fairford--a good name for a fair trader--Mr. AlanFairford; and may he be long withheld from the topmost round ofambition, which I take to be the highest round of a certain ladder.'
While he spoke, he seized the punch-ladle, and began to fill theglasses. But Mr. Trumbull arrested his hand, until he had, as heexpressed himself, sanctified the liquor by a long grace; during thepronunciation of which he shut indeed his eyes, but his nostrils becamedilated, as if he were snuffing up the fragrant beverage with peculiarcomplacency.
When the grace was at length over, the three friends sat down to theirbeverage, and invited Alan Fairford to partake. Anxious about hissituation, and disgusted as he was with his company, he craved, and withdifficulty obtained permission, under the allegation of being fatigued,heated, and the like, to stretch himself on a couch which was inthe apartment, and attempted at least to procure some rest beforehigh-water, when the vessel was to sail.
He was at length permitted to use his freedom, and stretched himself onthe couch, having his eyes for some time fixed on the jovial party hehad left, and straining his ears to catch if possible a little of theirconversation. This he soon found was to no purpose for what did actuallyreach his ears was disguised so completely by the use of cant words andthe thieves-latin called slang, that even when he caught the words, hefound himself as far as ever from the sense of their conversation. Atlength he fell asleep.
It was after Alan had slumbered for three or four hours, that he waswakened by voices bidding him rise up and prepare to be jogging. Hestarted up accordingly, and found himself in presence of the same partyof boon companions; who had just dispatched their huge bowl of punch. ToAlan's surprise, the liquor had made but little innovation on thebrains of men who were accustomed to drink at all hours, and in the mostinordinate quantities. The landlord indeed spoke a little thick, and thetexts of Mr. Thomas Trumbull stumbled on his tongue; but Nanty was oneof those topers, who, becoming early what bon vivants term flustered,remain whole nights and days at the same point of intoxication; and,in fact, as they are seldom entirely sober, can be as rarely seenabsolutely drunk. Indeed, Fairford, had he not known how Ewart had beenengaged whilst he himself was asleep, would almost have sworn when heawoke, that the man was more sober than when he first entered the room.
He was confirmed in this opinion when they descended below, where two orthree sailors and ruffian-looking fellows awaited their commands. Ewarttook the whole direction upon himself, gave his orders with briefnessand precision, and looked to their being executed with the silence andcelerity which that peculiar crisis required. All were now dismissedfor the brig, which lay, as Fairford was given to understand, a littlefarther down the river, which is navigable for vessels of light burdentill almost within a mile of the town.
When they issued from the inn, the landlord bid them goodbye. OldTrumbull walked a little way with them, but the air had probablyconsiderable effect on the state of his brain; for after remindingAlan Fairford that the next day was the honourable Sabbath, he becameextremely excursive in an attempt to exhort him to keep it holy. Atlength, being perhaps sensible that he was becoming unintelligible, hethrust a volume into Fairford's hand--hiccuping at the same time--'Goodbook--good book--fine hymn-book--fit for the honourable Sabbath, whilkawaits us to-morrow morning.' Here the iron tongue of time toldfive from the town steeple of Annan, to the further confusion of Mr.Trumbull's already disordered ideas. 'Aye? Is Sunday come and gonealready? Heaven be praised! Only it is a marvel the afternoon is saedark for the time of the year--Sabbath has slipped ower quietly, but wehave reason to bless oursells it has not been altogether misemployed.I heard little of the preaching--a cauld moralist, I doubt, served thatout--but, eh--the prayer--I mind it as if I had said the words mysell.'Here he repeated one or two petitions, which were probably a part of hisfamily devotions, before he was summoned forth to what he called theway of business. 'I never remember a Sabbath pass so cannily off in mylife.' Then he recollected himself a little, and said to Alan, 'Youmay read that book, Mr. Fairford, to-morrow, all the same, though it beMonday; for, you see, it was Saturday when we were thegither, and nowit's Sunday and it's dark night--so the Sabbath has slipped clea
n awaythrough our fingers like water through a sieve, which abideth not; andwe have to begin again to-morrow morning, in the weariful, base, mean,earthly employments, whilk are unworthy of an immortal spirit--alwaysexcepting the way of business.'
Three of the fellows were now returning to the town, and, at Ewart'scommand, they cut short the patriarch's exhortation, by leading him backto his own residence. The rest of the party then proceeded to the brig,which only waited their arrival to get under weigh and drop down theriver. Nanty Ewart betook himself to steering the brig, and the verytouch of the helm seemed to dispel the remaining influence of the liquorwhich he had drunk, since, through a troublesome and intricate channel,he was able to direct the course of his little vessel with the mostperfect accuracy and safety.
Alan Fairford, for some time, availed himself of the clearness of thesummer morning to gaze on the dimly seen shores betwixt which theyglided, becoming less and less distinct as they receded from each other,until at length, having adjusted his little bundle by way of pillow, andwrapped around him the greatcoat with which old Trumbull had equippedhim, he stretched himself on the deck, to try to recover the slumber outof which he had been awakened. Sleep had scarce begun to settle onhis eyes, ere he found something stirring about his person. With readypresence of mind he recollected his situation, and resolved to show noalarm until the purpose of this became obvious; but he was soon relievedfrom his anxiety, by finding it was only the result of Nanty's attentionto his comfort, who was wrapping around him, as softly as he could, agreat boatcloak, in order to defend him from the morning air.
'Thou art but a cockerel,' he muttered, 'but 'twere pity thou wertknocked off the perch before seeing a little more of the sweet and sourof this world--though, faith, if thou hast the usual luck of it, thebest way were to leave thee to the chance of a seasoning fever.'
These words, and the awkward courtesy with which the skipper of thelittle brig tucked the sea-coat round Fairford, gave him a confidence ofsafety which he had not yet thoroughly possessed. He stretched himselfin more security on the hard planks, and was speedily asleep, though hisslumbers were feverish and unrefreshing.
It has been elsewhere intimated that Alan Fairford inherited from hismother a delicate constitution, with a tendency to consumption; and,being an only child, with such a cause for apprehension, care, to theverge of effeminacy, was taken to preserve him from damp beds, wetfeet, and those various emergencies to which the Caledonian boys of muchhigher birth, but more active habits, are generally accustomed. In man,the spirit sustains the constitutional weakness, as in the wingedtribes the feathers bear aloft the body. But there is a bound to thesesupporting qualities; and as the pinions of the bird must at length growweary, so the VIS ANIMI of the human struggler becomes broken down bycontinued fatigue.
When the voyager was awakened by the light of the sun now riding highin heaven, he found himself under the influence of an almost intolerableheadache, with heat, thirst, shooting across the back and loins, andother symptoms intimating violent cold, accompanied with fever. Themanner in which he had passed the preceding day and night, thoughperhaps it might have been of little consequence to most young men, wasto him, delicate in constitution and nurture, attended with bad and evenperilous consequences. He felt this was the case, yet would fain havecombated the symptoms of indisposition, which, indeed, he imputedchiefly to sea-sickness. He sat up on deck, and looked on the scenearound, as the little vessel, having borne down the Solway Firth, wasbeginning, with a favourable northerly breeze, to bear away to thesouthward, crossing the entrance of the Wampool river, and preparing todouble the most northerly point of Cumberland.
But Fairford felt annoyed with deadly sickness, as well as by pain ofa distressing and oppressive character; and neither Criffel, rising inmajesty on the one hand, nor the distant yet more picturesque outline ofSkiddaw and Glaramara upon the other, could attract his attention inthe manner in which it was usually fixed by beautiful scenery, andespecially that which had in it something new as well as striking. Yetit was not in Alan Fairford's nature to give way to despondence, evenwhen seconded by pain. He had recourse, in the first place, to hispocket; but instead of the little Sallust he had brought with him, thatthe perusal of a classical author might help to pass away a heavy hour,he pulled out the supposed hymn-book with which he had been presenteda few hours before, by that temperate and scrupulous person, Mr. ThomasTrumbull, ALIAS Turnpenny. The volume was bound in sable, and itsexterior might have become a psalter. But what was Alan's astonishmentto read on the title page the following words:--'Merry Thoughts forMerry Men; or Mother Midnight's Miscellany for the Small Hours;' andturning over the leaves, he was disgusted with profligate tales, andmore profligate songs, ornamented with figures corresponding in infamywith the letterpress.
'Good God!' he thought, 'and did this hoary reprobate summon his familytogether, and, with such a disgraceful pledge of infamy in his bosom,venture to approach the throne of his Creator? It must be so; the bookis bound after the manner of those dedicated to devotional subjects,and doubtless the wretch, in his intoxication, confounded the bookshe carried with him, as he did the days of the week.' Seized with thedisgust with which the young and generous usually regard the vices ofadvanced life, Alan, having turned the leaves of the book over in hastydisdain, flung it from him, as far as he could, into the sea. He thenhad recourse to the Sallust, which he had at first sought for in vain.As he opened the book, Nanty Ewart, who had been looking over hisshoulder, made his own opinion heard.
'I think now, brother, if you are so much scandalized at a little pieceof sculduddery, which, after all, does nobody any harm, you had betterhave given it to me than have flung it into the Solway.'
'I hope, sir,' answered Fairford, civilly, 'you are in the habit ofreading better books.'
'Faith,' answered Nanty, 'with help of a little Geneva text, I couldread my Sallust as well as you can;' and snatching the book from Alan'shand, he began to read, in the Scottish accent:--"'IGITUR EX DIVITIISJUVENTUTEM LUXURIA ATQUE AVARITIA CUM SUPERBILI INVASERE: RAPERE,CONSUMERE; SUA PARVI PENDERE, ALIENA CUPERE; PUDOREM, AMICITIAM,PUDICITIAM, DIVINA ATQUE HUMANA PROMISCUA, NIHIL PENSI NEQUE MODERATIHABERE." [The translation of the passage is thus given by Sir HenrySteuart of Allanton:--'The youth, taught to look up to riches as thesovereign good, became apt pupils in the school of Luxury. Rapacity andprofusion went hand in hand. Careless of their own fortunes, and eagerto possess those of others, shame and remorse, modesty and moderation,every principle gave way.'--WORKS OF SALLUST, WITH ORIGINAL ESSAYS, vol.ii. p.17.]--There is a slap in the face now, for an honest fellow thathas been buccaneering! Never could keep a groat of what he got, or holdhis fingers from what belonged to another, said you? Fie, fie, friendCrispus, thy morals are as crabbed and austere as thy style--the one hasas little mercy as the other has grace. By my soul, it is unhandsometo make personal reflections on an old acquaintance, who seeks a littlecivil intercourse with you after nigh twenty years' separation. On mysoul, Master Sallust deserves to float on the Solway better than MotherMidnight herself.'
'Perhaps, in some respects, he may merit better usage at our hands,'said Alan; 'for if he has described vice plainly, it seems to have beenfor the purpose of rendering it generally abhorred.'
'Well,' said the seaman, 'I have heard of the Sortes Virgilianae, andI dare say the Sortes Sallustianae are as true every tittle. I haveconsulted honest Crispus on my own account, and have had a cuff formy pains. But now see, I open the book on your behalf, and beholdwhat occurs first to my eye!--Lo you there--"CATILINA ... OMNIUMFLAGITIOSORUM ATQUE FACINOROSORUM CIRCUM SE HABEBAT." And thenagain--"ETIAM SI QUIS A CULPA VACUUS IN AMICITIAM EJUS INCIDIDERATQUOTIDIANO USU PAR SIMILISQUE CAETERIS EFFICIEBATUR." [After enumeratingthe evil qualities of Catiline's associates, the author adds, 'If ithappened that any as yet uncontaminated by vice were fatally drawn intohis friendship, the effects of intercourse and snares artfullyspread, subdued every scruple, and early assimilated them to theirconductors.'--Ibidem, p. 19.] That is
what I call plain speaking on thepart of the old Roman, Mr. Fairford. By the way, that is a capital namefor a lawyer.
'Lawyer as I am,' said Fairford, 'I do not understand your innuendo.'
'Nay, then,' said Ewart, 'I can try it another way, as well as thehypocritical old rascal Turnpenny himself could do. I would have you toknow that I am well acquainted with my Bible-book, as well as with myfriend Sallust.' He then, in a snuffling and canting tone, began torepeat the Scriptural text--'"DAVID THEREFORE DEPARTED THENCE, AND WENTTO THE CAVE OF ADULLAM. AND EVERY ONE THAT WAS IN DISTRESS, AND EVERYONE THAT WAS IN DEBT, AND EVERY ONE THAT WAS DISCONTENTED, GATHEREDTHEMSELVES TOGETHER UNTO HIM, AND HE BECAME A CAPTAIN OVER THEM." Whatthink you of that?' he said, suddenly changing his manner. 'Have Itouched you now, sir?'
'You are as far off as ever,' replied Fairford.
'What the devil! and you a repeating frigate between Summertrees and thelaird! Tell that to the marines--the sailors won't believe it. But youare right to be cautious, since you can't say who are right, who not.But you look ill; it's but the cold morning air. Will you have a canof flip, or a jorum of hot rumbo? or will you splice the mainbrace'(showing a spirit-flask). 'Will you have a quid--or a pipe--or acigar?--a pinch of snuff, at least, to clear your brains and sharpenyour apprehension?'
Fairford rejected all these friendly propositions.
'Why, then,' continued Ewart, 'if you will do nothing for the freetrade, I must patronize it myself.'
So saying, he took a large glass of brandy.
'A hair of the dog that bit me,' he continued,--'of the dog that willworry me one day soon; and yet, and be d--d to me for an idiot, I mustalways have hint at my throat. But, says the old catch'--Here he sang,and sang well--
'Let's drink--let's drink--while life we have; We'll find but cold drinking, cold drinking in the grave.
All this,' he continued, 'is no charm against the headache. I wish Ihad anything that could do you good. Faith, and we have tea and coffeeaboard! I'll open a chest or a bag, and let you have some in an instant.You are at the age to like such catlap better than better stuff.'
Fairford thanked him, and accepted his offer of tea.
Nanty Ewart was soon heard calling about, 'Break open yon chest--takeout your capful, you bastard of a powder-monkey; we may want it again.No sugar? all used up for grog, say you? knock another loaf to pieces,can't ye? and get the kettle boiling, ye hell's baby, in no time atall!'
By dint of these energetic proceedings he was in a short time able toreturn to the place where his passenger lay sick and exhausted, with acup, or rather a canful, of tea; for everything was on a large scaleon board of the JUMPING JENNY. Alan drank it eagerly, and with so muchappearance of being refreshed that Nanty Ewart swore he would havesome too, and only laced it, as his phrase went, with a single glass ofbrandy. [See Note 8.]
