Roving Jack, The Pirate Hunter — page 185: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ROVING JACK, THE PIRATE HUNTER. former from distinguishing either the form or the features of the latter. “T needn’t ask whether Farmer Peyeril be in the way, since I find him lying at anchor near his own ga a3 “Right, man ; I be he, at your sarvice,”’ __ “You don’t remember me—can’t make out the figure head?” observed the new comer, with a smile. “Well, I can’t say as how Ido,” answered the farmer, a little perplexed by the incident. ‘The yoice seems familiar loike to me—but I be getting a little deaf, and my eyes doan’t sarve their measter quite so well as they did fifty year sin’.” “Never mind, old salt,” replied the other; “you'll recollect me by-and-bye, I bring you despatches from an old friend,” ‘“‘ At that word, old Dick Peveril never yet closed his doors, no matter whether he be gentle or simple, rich or poor ; follow me,” The farmer led the way into the house. Then up a broad and bannistered flight of stairs leading to a commodious parlour. Arrived here, the guest was requested to seat himself and partake of the good cheer that at once graced the table in the shape of a cold sirloin of beef, York ham, cold fowl, with every condiment and adjunct required for the dishes, The room was furnished in the old-fashioned style, plentifully supplied with valuable china, japaoned cabinets, and a curious carved cupboard in one of the corners, the shelves of which exposed to view numberless big-bellied bottles containing spirituous liquors of all grades and denominations. This showed that, though the former had a character for abstemiousness, he could enjoy life’s comforts, in his own way, with a keen zest. After the meal, he sat down, once more, to his pipe. His new companion soon followed such a laudable example, In a few minutes, the region around emitted the redolence of tobacco mingled with the perfume of punch, a bowl of which had, during the interyal, been introduced to the parties enjoying them- selves, After a pause, the guest broke silence, He was a young man of rather ‘prepossessing appearance, and, as he had already acquainted his hospitable entertainer, a seaman in the Royal Navy. “Qnce more on the green earth,” he merrily shouted out, “I feel like a ship dancing through the spray, steering for the haven of joy.” «« Ah,” replied the farmer, reservedly, and stopping to relight his pipe with some ceremony, “that’s a hayen you sailors don’t often moor in.” “The devil we don’t. How do you make that out, friend Peveril ?” “Why, your’s be such a loife of ups and downs, hardships and dangers, that, I take it, you bean’t gotten time to think on happiness.” ‘Tor’ love your silly, good heart, you don’t know the bliss that crowns 4 tar’s troubles. When- ever I steer for my lass’s arms, and find myself chained within ’em, I wouldn’t change coats with the first lord of the admiralty. Her very name brings tears into my eyes, and I feel I could hug every craft that shows a woman’s flag at her fore, A sailor not know happiness, do you say? What cheers him in the dreary watch? What sustains him in the dark, wild waves of the storm? What nerves him in the battle and hour of death, but the blessed thought—unequalled by any earthly bliss—that he may be spared to return to wife, children, and friends,” 205 ‘‘ Well, measter, I be but a plain-spoken man, and, I dare say, for them as likes it, the life of a sailor has its charms.” “Talking of charms, farmer, mayhaps you didn’t know one tight little frigate as lives somewhere about this quarter ?” “Well,” he answered, with a look ef profound solidity, “I don’t think you'll find any one of that name in our parish, and I’ve been overseer sin—” “No, bless your innocence, that isn’t her name,” “T thought not.” “ Her name is—” tt) Yes,” ‘No, ‘taint that, ‘Dang it, man, then, what is it?” “Ha, ha! I’ve got it — she’s called Ellen Peveril.”’ “Why, you dinna mean to say that—” “She’s my wife.” ’ The farmer, for the moment, seemed transfixed with astonishment. “What, dad, don’t you know me?” said the sailor, advancing towards him, and warmly shaking his hand. “I’m Panl—Paul Peveril. Have years and foreign travel so changed me, that you don’t know your own son?” “God bless thee, boy!” ejaculated. the father, rubbing his eyes, ‘‘I hope I’m not dreaming! No, it be he, sure enough, Eh, let me embrace thee, for I were sore afraid I had to see thee no more !” To describe the questions and congratulations that now-ensued, or to relate the particulars of the extravagant joy of the honest, farmer, would be altogether superfluous, Still, we may make allusions to the following facts : First, he hugged his son to his breast, and with such warmth, that, had he been anything but the individual he was, all the breath would have been squeezed out of his body. His second performance was a caper about the room, in which he must have stood unrivalled, had he presented it for public competition. The third and last fantastic action of the excited parent was to get rid of a red nightcap, which he generally wore in his domestic duties, and insert it between the bars of an iron grate, now filled with what cooks call a roasting fire. The unusual excitement of the respected and elderly individual having, in the end, subsided, ‘from natural causes,” a8 a jury would say, Paul proceeded to inquire after “his dearly beloved Nelly.” “Well, lad, I be sorry that she bean’t here to meet thee,” said the farmer; “ but a letter arriyed a few days sin calling her to Lunnon.”’ ‘“ At a place they call ‘ Bell inn,’ at—” “Drat it! I a’ forgotten the crackjaw name on the place ; but that bean’t here nor there, seeing as how I’ve received a second letter, stating I moight expect her home again this evening.” “Tf she don’t arrive, I shall set sail for London, without waiting for orders.” “ Well, lad, as thee wishes. o’er in morning.” “Morning !_ I must start to-night. Do you think I can sling in my hammock without seeing her whom I love better than all the world?” “Go thee ways, lad—go thee ways; but you shan’na’ walk sixteen mile when I've got one o’ the best nags a mon ever put his leg over. I bought un at Barnet fair, where they took I for a soft un —faix, I were nearly ta’en in though.” As the farmer spoke there was a gentle tap at the door. We can talk matter CE@LAA CLOOOKS EEO) a ee eeeEEEE——EE——— ee