Collected Works of Frances Trollope
Page 375
“Yes, perfectly,” replied the major, smiling, “but it is considerably more than a year ago that I last saw it, and it is quite beyond hope that you should have it here.”
Mrs. Allen Barnaby laid her hand upon the bolt of the door to withdraw it, saying —
“Come up stairs with me, major, and you shall see. But cough a little as you pass by the bar, and hold your handkerchief to your face. We must not, just for the present, display your magnificent mustaches.”
Thus instructed, and displaying in all ways the most exemplary obedience, the major left the little room in which the above conversation had passed, mounted the stairs, and, closely followed by his lady, entered the apartment in which they had passed the night and in which Tornorino had seen their voluminous luggage carefully lodged. Having reached this sanctuary and cautiously secured its door, not a moment was lost by either in performing the business they had in hand; and while she drew forth a complete suit of very evangelical-looking attire, complete even to the white cravat, and gray and black shot-silk waistcoat, he set to work upon his forest-like face, and hewed and mowed away till he was as well shaven and shorn as any reasonable Christian could desire. In the finishing this rather laborious work, she not only found time to assist him, but, as she did so, enlightened him as to what was next to be done, as follows: —
“Now then, Donny, with that dress yonder, carefully put on, and your low-crowned hat, upon this nice gray head, I will defy all the Gabriel Monktons in Yankee-land to identify you. So far, so good. But now listen to the rest. I suspect, by the way I have seen the servant girls coming and going, that there is a back stairs at the end of the long passage just outside our door. While you are dressing, I’ll just have a peep as to that matter. If I am right, we know of course that it will open to the back of the house, because the passage runs straight through it. As soon as you get down stairs don’t look in a bustle, but move quietly on, like a patient saint, as you are, to find your way out of the back door. This done, you may easily, of course, regain the street, and then make for the Franklin hotel, which you heard them say at the wharf was on the other side of the landing-place. When you get there, order breakfast for yourself and dinner for some friends, who are amusing themselves by looking about, and tell them that your party are going on to Sandusky by the nine o’clock boat. Meantime we will breakfast here, and announce that we are going off by the eleven o’clock boat, and just as it comes in sight I will have all the luggage taken down to the wharf. I will pay the bill, and tell the people that I expect you will meet us on board, but that it you happen to come in after we have left the house, they must send you after us in all haste. All this being provided for, the rest follows without difficulty. When we get down to the wharf at eleven o’clock, we shall, of course, have the dreadful disappointment of finding no Major Allen Barnaby there; whereupon I shall order the porter to set down the baggage, and leave it; and if he, or any of the clamorous waiters, invite us to turn back again, I shall pay them handsomely but decline the invitation, stating, as my reason, that I prefer being near the landing-place. And then, the Franklin hotel porters will, of course, offer their services, and ere midday, my dear, I shall, I doubt not, be safely reunited, not to Major Allen Barnaby, but to the reverend Mr. O’Donagough.”
“Excellent, perfect, and worthy of yourself!” exclaimed the major. “But the leather labels bearing our names at full length on the boxes?”
“They will be all lost, my dear, before we get to the Franklin hotel.”
No single circumstance of this admirably arranged plan went wrong. Mrs. Allen Barnaby had exactly time enough for all she had to do before the eleven o’clock boat was announced. Tornorino and Patty were made to be perfectly au fait of the scheme; the bill, though a high one, was paid without a murmur, and the only recollection of the party that remained at the Washington hotel was, that they were a set of English spendthrifts, who drank champagne unaccountable, but made no bones about paying for it.
CHAPTER XLII.
THERE certainly are some people, who either from fortune, or temper, or the influence of both united, seem to swim down the stream of life more gaily than others. Such persons, it is true, will often keep their colours flying, long after fainter spirits would strike, which may often, perhaps, give them the appearance of being more triumphant than they really are; but if this be sometimes delusive, at any rate it has often the effect of imposing upon the parties themselves, and may perhaps not unfrequently produce that mad sort of luxury which, as the poet tells us, none but madmen know.
Considering the nature of the adventures through which the Barnaby race had passed since their arrival in the United States of America, and the species of catastrophe with which nearly every adventure had concluded, they could scarcely have enjoyed themselves so vehemently as they certainly did at the Franklin hotel, upon Lake Erie, had not their spirits been excited by some portion of the sort of laughing gas above alluded to. The supper at the Washington had been delightfully full of fun, frolic, triumph, and glee; and the dinner at the Franklin was, if possible, more brilliant still. Nobody, unless it had been Asmodeus himself, could have looked upon the group there assembled, and have doubted their being in the possession of some especial cause for rejoicing and merriment.
The harmony that reigned among them seemed as perfect as the contentment; and in short, a merrier party could not easily have been found. Patty, indeed, was a little in the dark as to the nature of the scrape from which her “pap” had just escaped; but this only added to the jocularity of the rest, as she never alluded to the cleverness of her mamma, in managing so beautifully to prevent her papa’s being hanged, without eliciting a most cordial burst of laughter from the major and the lady, and a charming simper of answering applause from her Don. But time wore away, and as the hours robed on towards nine o’clock, Major Allen Barnaby hinted, with an amiable apology to the family group, for marring their mirth by drawing their attention to business, that it would be necessary, or at least prudent, to decide upon where they were to go, and what they were to do next, before going on board.
As he said this very gravely, the effect of it was rather to increase than mar their mirth, for Fatty laughed immoderately, and declared that when “pap” put on a preaching face, in addition to his preaching garments, the fun was just perfect.
Whereupon the major, in order to prove his unabated good humour, and the reality of his reluctance to substitute business for fun, stood up, and placing the back of his chair before him to represent the front of a pulpit, he began, amidst shouts of applause from Patty and her mamma, to show them how he intended to preach. After devoting a few minutes, however, to this capital joke, he resumed his seat, and renewed his request that the subject of their next campaign might be taken into consideration.
“Where, for instance,” he asked, “where are you to be, all of you, while I am performing the part of a travelling minister at Sandusky?”
“Where,” repeated Patty. “Where should we be, my darling papa, but dose to you, and hearing you preach to be sure.”
“This would be the pleasantest scheme for me, my dear Fatty, there can be no doubt of that,” replied the major. “But I question whether it would be the safest.”
“Because of the danger of my laughing, pa? Is that what you mean? If it is, you are just a goose for your pains,” said his daughter, “for as I told you before, you shan’t come to be hanged, if I can help it; and I’ll be bound for it that if you give us a fair trial, mamma will be quite as likely to start off laughing, when you begin to preach, as I should.”
“Thank you, my dear Patty, for caring so much about my safety,” replied her father, politely kissing her hand, “But I am afraid, Patty, that it is not your laughing, or your mother’s either, that will constitute the danger of our being together.”
“I fancy not, indeed!” cried Mrs. Allen Barnaby, eagerly. “What can you be thinking off, child, to talk such nonsense? A pretty way it will be for him to remain unknown, to hav
e you, and I, and Tornorino following him about?”
“Alas!” rejoined the major, tenderly, “no man wishing to escape observation, must travel with such handsome faces!”
“And that’s true, Mr. Pap, I don’t deny it,” said the young beauty, with a well-pleased smile. “But what will you do with us, then? Must we set off without you, as we did when we went to the Springs?”
“Exactly so, Madame Tornorino,” said Mrs. Allen Barnaby, with decision.
“Indeed, I am afraid that so it must be,” quoth the major; “but it will only be necessary to make the separation long enough to insure my being pretty generally known by sight at Sandusky, as the Rev. Mr. O’Donagough. This will, you know, effectually prevent my being traced thither as Major Allen Barnaby, and it is to this device that I must trust for my security during my future wanderings through this comical country. Having thus thrown out my amiable friend, Mr. Gabriel Monkton, I shall have no doubts or fears whatever about rejoining you; and the only question is, as to where this reunion, so greatly wished for by me, shall take place.”
“The first thing to consider in settling that point,” said Mrs Allen Barnaby, “is how we can, with the least danger of meeting any one whom we desire to avoid, draw gradually nearer and nearer to the coast; for I confess that, notwithstanding all the wonderful success we have met with, I shall be most excessively rejoiced to feel myself once more on the highway towards Europe. I don’t care a straw about going back to England; but I certainly do long to be in Europe once more.”
“And in Europe once more, my dear, you most certainly shall be before you are a year older, provided, that is to say, that you do not get tired of my company, and elope in the interval with some such fascinating individuals as Mr. Gabriel Monkton, Mr. John Williams, Mr. Colonel Beauchamp, or Mr. Judge Johnson. As for myself, I honestly avow that I have had quite enough of—’ Well, and what may you be called?’ and ‘Where do you calculate you are going,’ and ‘What location did you fix in last?’ I won’t deny that I am tired to death of it all. But I have no great fancy for England either, just at present at least; and so if we are all agreed, I expect, as the darlings say, that our pleasantest plan will be to make for Havre-de-Grace, and from thence to Paris. Afterwards, perhaps, we may vary the scene again, by visiting Baden-Baden, you know, Tornorino. There are a thousand pleasant places we may go to, provided we can get off from these confounded States without having our wings clipped.”
“And that I will engage for your doing, without let or hindrance,” said his wife, “if you don’t get tired of preaching too soon, Donny. I got a good deal of information about the western country at the Springs, and that it was, I believe, which first put the notion of your turning preacher into my head. Miss Wigly (that was the name of my principal friend at the Springs) Miss Wigly told me that it was quite past belief how a tolerably goodlooking man would be followed in any one of the western towns, if he did but make noise enough. Now I don’t think anybody can deny, major, that you are rather more than tolerably well-looking-still, though I won’t say you are quite as handsome as when I first saw you at Clifton; and as for making a noise, as she calls it, if you have but the will, I am sure you will find the way.”
“A thousand thanks for all your charming compliments, my dear,” replied the major. “Trust me, it shall not be from want of exertion that I will fail. But what else did you learn from your friend Miss Wigly? I think it will be quite as well not to make any particular inquiries here about the country beyond Sandusky. There is no occasion whatever that we should leave a plan of our route behind us. Did the lady mention any considerable towns westward?”
“Oh, mercy, yes!” returned his wife; “more than I can remember, a great deal. But I have a sort of general idea about the way we have got to go, and of the principal towns we must pass, in order to get round again to the sea; for that you know is what we must do before we can set off according to the major’s-beautiful new plan.”
“Most certainly, my dear,” he replied, “we must get round again, as you call it, to the sea. But there is more than that to be thought of. We have got to make up our minds as to which port will be most agreeable to us. I don’t think I should particularly like either New York, Philadelphia, or New Orleans. However, there are many others to choose from; but we need not trouble ourselves about that now. Let us get fairly off to the ‘ wild west,’ as some of them call it, and we can settle about the port to sail from afterwards.”
“To be sure we can,” answered his wife, “and you may be sure of something else, too, and that is, if you will go on, dressed as you are now, and let us call all ourselves O’Donagough, we may go safe and sound anywhere. No living soul will ever find us out, particularly if we take care not to stay too long.”
“My gracious! how you talk, mamma!” cried Patty, staring at her. “Do you fancy that because pap happened to fight a duel at New York, like an honourable, brave gentleman as he is, that we are all to be hunted through the country, as if we were wild beasts, with a pack of dogs at our heels?”
The rest of the party exchanged looks upon this very sensible question, and it seemed for a moment as if nobody chose to answer it; but at length Major Allen Barnaby replied —
“Nothing can be more natural than your observation, my dear Patty; but the fact is, that the government of the United States is very remarkable upon this point. The horror in which they hold duelling is so great, that all the States have agreed together, to punish with sudden and prompt vengeance, any individual who has been guilty of it, let him have committed it where he may. However, I rest with entire confidence on the opinion of your mother, as to the safety insured by the change of name and appearance, and I really think that once out of this part of the country, we may make our way to the coast by whatever course may eventually appear the most agreeable to us.”
“Well, then, that’s all settled,” cried my heroine, gaily, “and there is only one more question to be asked before we make ourselves ready for starting. Where are we to perch ourselves while the reverend major establishes his reputation as a preacher at Sandusky?”
“Upon my word, my dear, it is a question that I think you must answer yourself; for, thanks to your Miss Wigly, it seems evident that you know more about that part of the country than I do,” replied the major. “Well then,” she replied with decision, “I vote for our pushing on to Pittsburg at once, because I know that is one of the places at which we may conveniently decide whether we will go to New Orleans or not. It would be, certainly, by far the most convenient; for Miss Wigly told me it was all by water, and monstrous cheap; and the other way, we should have to cross over some tiresome high mountains which would cost double as much.”
“Good; that, then, will be the place and the time for deciding our port of embarkation. Yes, Pittsburg shall be your quarters, till I rejoin you,” said the major, “which will be, I should hope, in about ten days or a fortnight.”
This ended the discussion; and till the steamboat was announced the party amused themselves by imagining the vexation of Mr. Gabriel Monkton on arriving at Sandusky, and finding the bird he was in pursuit of flown.
Had any doubts rested on the minds of Major and Mrs. Allen Barnaby, as to the advantages likely to arise from the reassumption of the respectable attire which had been first adopted at Brighton, the very first specimen of their reception on board the boat would have removed them.
Though the day had been bright and warm, the evening air on the lake was already cold and chilling, and my heroine and her daughter almost immediately descended to the ladies’ cabin in search of warmth and shelter. Even before they moved from the gallery, however, the warmth-loving Tornorino had escaped to the smoky sanctuary of the gentlemen’s saloon, so that when the ladies moved, Major Allen Barnaby, or rather Mr. O’Donagough, would have been left alone, had he not moved with them. He therefore did so, watching with his usual attention the steps of his charming Patty, whose peculiar style of galloping movement on all occasions, made
the operation of descending cabin stairs somewhat dangerous. Eve she reached the door at the bottom, however, which as it was open, displayed a considerable number of females within, she suddenly stopped, exclaiming —
“Oh, goodness, papa! Get up stairs again as fast as you possibly can. Do you Know, we were told at the Springs, that it was not at all safe for a gentleman to go into the ladies’ cabin after it was the least bit dark; for that if they did, they were very often soused over head and ears with water, and sometimes made wet to their skin, before they could get away.”
This advice being given without any mitigation of the speaker’s usually well-sustained voice, it reached the ears of two ladies, who at that moment occupied the doorway; and the light of the ample lamp above it, darting its rays at the same moment, full upon the comely shaven face, cropped gray hair, and sable suit of the major, they were both instantly seized with a fit of compunction at the idea, that so reverend-looking a gentleman should suppose it possible that, among “American females,” he should run any risk of being subjected to the discipline sometimes resorted to, in order to keep persons of a far different stamp in order.
Full of praiseworthy feeling, the eldest of the two ladies exclaimed, “Oh my! Fray, miss, don’t say that to the gentleman, as if what you describe was intended for such as him! It would be twenty rimes more likely, sir,” she added, making the respectable looking gentleman a low courtesy, “ay, sir, fifty times more likely, I expect, that every female present should quit and be off to the deck to make place to a gentleman of your appearance, than do by. you what the young lady mentions. But I calculate she is a stranger in these parts.”