DAVID
COPPERFIELD
PART 57
CHAPTER 57. THE EMIGRANTS
One thing
more, I had to do, before yielding myself to the shock of these emotions. It
was, to conceal what had occurred, from those who were going away; and to
dismiss them on their voyage in happy ignorance. In this, no time was to be
lost.
I took
Mr. Micawber aside that same night, and confided to him the task of standing
between Mr. Peggotty and intelligence of the late catastrophe. He zealously
undertook to do so, and to intercept any newspaper through which it might,
without such precautions, reach him.
'If it
penetrates to him, sir,' said Mr. Micawber, striking himself on the breast, 'it
shall first pass through this body!'
Mr.
Micawber, I must observe, in his adaptation of himself to a new state of
society, had acquired a bold buccaneering air, not absolutely lawless, but
defensive and prompt. One might have supposed him a child of the wilderness,
long accustomed to live out of the confines of civilization, and about to
return to his native wilds.
He had
provided himself, among other things, with a complete suit of oilskin, and a
straw hat with a very low crown, pitched or caulked on the outside. In this
rough clothing, with a common mariner's telescope under his arm, and a shrewd
trick of casting up his eye at the sky as looking out for dirty weather, he was
far more nautical, after his manner, than Mr. Peggotty. His whole family, if I
may so express it, were cleared for action. I found Mrs. Micawber in the
closest and most uncompromising of bonnets, made fast under the chin; and in a
shawl which tied her up (as I had been tied up, when my aunt first received me)
like a bundle, and was secured behind at the waist, in a strong knot. Miss
Micawber I found made snug for stormy weather, in the same manner; with nothing
superfluous about her. Master Micawber was hardly visible in a Guernsey shirt,
and the shaggiest suit of slops I ever saw; and the children were done up, like
preserved meats, in impervious cases. Both Mr. Micawber and his eldest son wore
their sleeves loosely turned back at the wrists, as being ready to lend a hand
in any direction, and to 'tumble up', or sing out, 'Yeo—Heave—Yeo!' on the
shortest notice.
Thus
Traddles and I found them at nightfall, assembled on the wooden steps, at that
time known as Hungerford Stairs, watching the departure of a boat with some of
their property on board. I had told Traddles of the terrible event, and it had
greatly shocked him; but there could be no doubt of the kindness of keeping it
a secret, and he had come to help me in this last service. It was here that I
took Mr. Micawber aside, and received his promise.
The
Micawber family were lodged in a little, dirty, tumble-down public-house, which
in those days was close to the stairs, and whose protruding wooden rooms
overhung the river. The family, as emigrants, being objects of some interest in
and about Hungerford, attracted so many beholders, that we were glad to take
refuge in their room. It was one of the wooden chambers upstairs, with the tide
flowing underneath. My aunt and Agnes were there, busily making some little
extra comforts, in the way of dress, for the children. Peggotty was quietly
assisting, with the old insensible work-box, yard-measure, and bit of
wax-candle before her, that had now outlived so much.
It was
not easy to answer her inquiries; still less to whisper Mr. Peggotty, when Mr.
Micawber brought him in, that I had given the letter, and all was well. But I
did both, and made them happy. If I showed any trace of what I felt, my own
sorrows were sufficient to account for it.
'And when
does the ship sail, Mr. Micawber?' asked my aunt.
Mr.
Micawber considered it necessary to prepare either my aunt or his wife, by
degrees, and said, sooner than he had expected yesterday.
'The boat
brought you word, I suppose?' said my aunt.
'It did,
ma'am,' he returned.
'Well?'
said my aunt. 'And she sails—'
'Madam,'
he replied, 'I am informed that we must positively be on board before seven
tomorrow morning.'
'Heyday!'
said my aunt, 'that's soon. Is it a sea-going fact, Mr. Peggotty?' ''Tis so,
ma'am. She'll drop down the river with that theer tide. If Mas'r Davy and my
sister comes aboard at Gravesen', arternoon o' next day, they'll see the last
on us.'
'And that
we shall do,' said I, 'be sure!'
'Until
then, and until we are at sea,' observed Mr. Micawber, with a glance of
intelligence at me, 'Mr. Peggotty and myself will constantly keep a double
look-out together, on our goods and chattels. Emma, my love,' said Mr.
Micawber, clearing his throat in his magnificent way, 'my friend Mr. Thomas
Traddles is so obliging as to solicit, in my ear, that he should have the
privilege of ordering the ingredients necessary to the composition of a
moderate portion of that Beverage which is peculiarly associated, in our minds,
with the Roast Beef of Old England. I allude to—in short, Punch. Under ordinary
circumstances, I should scruple to entreat the indulgence of Miss Trotwood and
Miss Wickfield, but-'
'I can
only say for myself,' said my aunt, 'that I will drink all happiness and
success to you, Mr. Micawber, with the utmost pleasure.'
'And I
too!' said Agnes, with a smile.
Mr.
Micawber immediately descended to the bar, where he appeared to be quite at
home; and in due time returned with a steaming jug. I could not but observe
that he had been peeling the lemons with his own clasp-knife, which, as became
the knife of a practical settler, was about a foot long; and which he wiped,
not wholly without ostentation, on the sleeve of his coat. Mrs. Micawber and
the two elder members of the family I now found to be provided with similar
formidable instruments, while every child had its own wooden spoon attached to
its body by a strong line. In a similar anticipation of life afloat, and in the
Bush, Mr. Micawber, instead of helping Mrs. Micawber and his eldest son and
daughter to punch, in wine-glasses, which he might easily have done, for there
was a shelf-full in the room, served it out to them in a series of villainous
little tin pots; and I never saw him enjoy anything so much as drinking out of his
own particular pint pot, and putting it in his pocket at the close of the
evening.
'The
luxuries of the old country,' said Mr. Micawber, with an intense satisfaction
in their renouncement, 'we abandon. The denizens of the forest cannot, of
course, expect to participate in the refinements of the land of the Free.'
Here, a
boy came in to say that Mr. Micawber was wanted downstairs.
'I have a
presentiment,' said Mrs. Micawber, setting down her tin pot, 'that it is a
member of my family!'
'If so,
my dear,' observed Mr. Micawber, with his usual suddenness of warmth on that
subject, 'as the member of your family—whoever he, she, or it, may be—has kept
us waiting for a considerable period, perhaps the Member may now wait MY
convenience.'
'Micawber,'
said his wife, in a low tone, 'at such a time as this—'
'"It
is not meet,"' said Mr. Micawber, rising, '"that every nice offence
should bear its comment!" Emma, I stand reproved.'
'The
loss, Micawber,' observed his wife, 'has been my family's, not yours. If my
family are at length sensible of the deprivation to which their own conduct
has, in the past, exposed them, and now desire to extend the hand of
fellowship, let it not be repulsed.'
'My
dear,' he returned, 'so be it!'
'If not
for their sakes; for mine, Micawber,' said his wife.
'Emma,'
he returned, 'that view of the question is, at such a moment, irresistible. I
cannot, even now, distinctly pledge myself to fall upon your family's neck; but
the member of your family, who is now in attendance, shall have no genial
warmth frozen by me.'
Mr.
Micawber withdrew, and was absent some little time; in the course of which Mrs.
Micawber was not wholly free from an apprehension that words might have arisen
between him and the Member. At length the same boy reappeared, and presented me
with a note written in pencil, and headed, in a legal manner, 'Heep v.
Micawber'. From this document, I learned that Mr. Micawber being again
arrested, 'Was in a final paroxysm of despair; and that he begged me to send
him his knife and pint pot, by bearer, as they might prove serviceable during
the brief remainder of his existence, in jail. He also requested, as a last act
of friendship, that I would see his family to the Parish Workhouse, and forget
that such a Being ever lived.
Of course
I answered this note by going down with the boy to pay the money, where I found
Mr. Micawber sitting in a corner, looking darkly at the Sheriff 's Officer who
had effected the capture. On his release, he embraced me with the utmost
fervour; and made an entry of the transaction in his pocket-book—being very
particular, I recollect, about a halfpenny I inadvertently omitted from my
statement of the total.
This
momentous pocket-book was a timely reminder to him of another transaction. On
our return to the room upstairs (where he accounted for his absence by saying
that it had been occasioned by circumstances over which he had no control), he
took out of it a large sheet of paper, folded small, and quite covered with
long sums, carefully worked. From the glimpse I had of them, I should say that
I never saw such sums out of a school ciphering-book. These, it seemed, were
calculations of compound interest on what he called 'the principal amount of forty-one,
ten, eleven and a half', for various periods. After a careful consideration of
these, and an elaborate estimate of his resources, he had come to the
conclusion to select that sum which represented the amount with compound
interest to two years, fifteen calendar months, and fourteen days, from that
date. For this he had drawn a note-of-hand with great neatness, which he handed
over to Traddles on the spot, a discharge of his debt in full (as between man
and man), with many acknowledgements.
'I have
still a presentiment,' said Mrs. Micawber, pensively shaking her head, 'that my
family will appear on board, before we finally depart.'
Mr.
Micawber evidently had his presentiment on the subject too, but he put it in
his tin pot and swallowed it.
'If you
have any opportunity of sending letters home, on your passage, Mrs. Micawber,'
said my aunt, 'you must let us hear from you, you know.'
'My dear
Miss Trotwood,' she replied, 'I shall only be too happy to think that anyone
expects to hear from us. I shall not fail to correspond. Mr. Copperfield, I
trust, as an old and familiar friend, will not object to receive occasional
intelligence, himself, from one who knew him when the twins were yet
unconscious?'
I said
that I should hope to hear, whenever she had an opportunity of writing.
'Please
Heaven, there will be many such opportunities,' said Mr. Micawber. 'The ocean,
in these times, is a perfect fleet of ships; and we can hardly fail to
encounter many, in running over. It is merely crossing,' said Mr. Micawber,
trifling with his eye-glass, 'merely crossing. The distance is quite
imaginary.'
I think,
now, how odd it was, but how wonderfully like Mr. Micawber, that, when he went
from London to Canterbury, he should have talked as if he were going to the
farthest limits of the earth; and, when he went from England to Australia, as
if he were going for a little trip across the channel.
'On the
voyage, I shall endeavour,' said Mr. Micawber, 'occasionally to spin them a
yarn; and the melody of my son Wilkins will, I trust, be acceptable at the
galley-fire. When Mrs. Micawber has her sea-legs on—an expression in which I
hope there is no conventional impropriety—she will give them, I dare say,
"Little Tafflin". Porpoises and dolphins, I believe, will be
frequently observed athwart our Bows; and, either on the starboard or the
larboard quarter, objects of interest will be continually descried. In short,'
said Mr. Micawber, with the old genteel air, 'the probability is, all will be
found so exciting, alow and aloft, that when the lookout, stationed in the
main-top, cries Land-oh! we shall be very considerably astonished!'
With that
he flourished off the contents of his little tin pot, as if he had made the
voyage, and had passed a first-class examination before the highest naval
authorities.
'What I
chiefly hope, my dear Mr. Copperfield,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'is, that in some
branches of our family we may live again in the old country. Do not frown,
Micawber! I do not now refer to my own family, but to our children's children.
However vigorous the sapling,' said Mrs. Micawber, shaking her head, 'I cannot
forget the parent-tree; and when our race attains to eminence and fortune, I
own I should wish that fortune to flow into the coffers of Britannia.'
'My
dear,' said Mr. Micawber, 'Britannia must take her chance. I am bound to say
that she has never done much for me, and that I have no particular wish upon
the subject.'
'Micawber,'
returned Mrs. Micawber, 'there, you are wrong. You are going out, Micawber, to
this distant clime, to strengthen, not to weaken, the connexion between
yourself and Albion.'
'The
connexion in question, my love,' rejoined Mr. Micawber, 'has not laid me, I
repeat, under that load of personal obligation, that I am at all sensitive as
to the formation of another connexion.'
'Micawber,'
returned Mrs. Micawber. 'There, I again say, you are wrong. You do not know
your power, Micawber. It is that which will strengthen, even in this step you
are about to take, the connexion between yourself and Albion.'
Mr.
Micawber sat in his elbow-chair, with his eyebrows raised; half receiving and
half repudiating Mrs. Micawber's views as they were stated, but very sensible
of their foresight.
'My dear
Mr. Copperfield,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'I wish Mr. Micawber to feel his
position. It appears to me highly important that Mr. Micawber should, from the
hour of his embarkation, feel his position. Your old knowledge of me, my dear
Mr. Copperfield, will have told you that I have not the sanguine disposition of
Mr. Micawber. My disposition is, if I may say so, eminently practical. I know
that this is a long voyage. I know that it will involve many privations and
inconveniences. I cannot shut my eyes to those facts. But I also know what Mr.
Micawber is. I know the latent power of Mr. Micawber. And therefore I consider
it vitally important that Mr. Micawber should feel his position.'
'My
love,' he observed, 'perhaps you will allow me to remark that it is barely
possible that I DO feel my position at the present moment.'
'I think
not, Micawber,' she rejoined. 'Not fully. My dear Mr. Copperfield, Mr.
Micawber's is not a common case. Mr. Micawber is going to a distant country
expressly in order that he may be fully understood and appreciated for the
first time. I wish Mr. Micawber to take his stand upon that vessel's prow, and
firmly say, "This country I am come to conquer! Have you honours? Have you
riches? Have you posts of profitable pecuniary emolument? Let them be brought
forward. They are mine!"'
Mr.
Micawber, glancing at us all, seemed to think there was a good deal in this
idea.
'I wish
Mr. Micawber, if I make myself understood,' said Mrs. Micawber, in her
argumentative tone, 'to be the Caesar of his own fortunes. That, my dear Mr.
Copperfield, appears to me to be his true position. From the first moment of
this voyage, I wish Mr. Micawber to stand upon that vessel's prow and say,
"Enough of delay: enough of disappointment: enough of limited means. That
was in the old country. This is the new. Produce your reparation. Bring it
forward!"'
Mr.
Micawber folded his arms in a resolute manner, as if he were then stationed on
the figure-head.
'And
doing that,' said Mrs. Micawber, '—feeling his position—am I not right in
saying that Mr. Micawber will strengthen, and not weaken, his connexion with
Britain? An important public character arising in that hemisphere, shall I be
told that its influence will not be felt at home? Can I be so weak as to
imagine that Mr. Micawber, wielding the rod of talent and of power in
Australia, will be nothing in England? I am but a woman; but I should be unworthy
of myself and of my papa, if I were guilty of such absurd weakness.'
Mrs.
Micawber's conviction that her arguments were unanswerable, gave a moral
elevation to her tone which I think I had never heard in it before.
'And
therefore it is,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'that I the more wish, that, at a future
period, we may live again on the parent soil. Mr. Micawber may be—I cannot
disguise from myself that the probability is, Mr. Micawber will be—a page of
History; and he ought then to be represented in the country which gave him
birth, and did NOT give him employment!'
'My
love,' observed Mr. Micawber, 'it is impossible for me not to be touched by
your affection. I am always willing to defer to your good sense. What will
be—will be. Heaven forbid that I should grudge my native country any portion of
the wealth that may be accumulated by our descendants!'
'That's
well,' said my aunt, nodding towards Mr. Peggotty, 'and I drink my love to you
all, and every blessing and success attend you!'
Mr.
Peggotty put down the two children he had been nursing, one on each knee, to
join Mr. and Mrs. Micawber in drinking to all of us in return; and when he and
the Micawbers cordially shook hands as comrades, and his brown face brightened
with a smile, I felt that he would make his way, establish a good name, and be
beloved, go where he would.
Even the
children were instructed, each to dip a wooden spoon into Mr. Micawber's pot,
and pledge us in its contents. When this was done, my aunt and Agnes rose, and
parted from the emigrants. It was a sorrowful farewell. They were all crying;
the children hung about Agnes to the last; and we left poor Mrs. Micawber in a
very distressed condition, sobbing and weeping by a dim candle, that must have
made the room look, from the river, like a miserable light-house.
I went
down again next morning to see that they were away. They had departed, in a
boat, as early as five o'clock. It was a wonderful instance to me of the gap
such partings make, that although my association of them with the tumble-down
public-house and the wooden stairs dated only from last night, both seemed
dreary and deserted, now that they were gone.
In the
afternoon of the next day, my old nurse and I went down to Gravesend. We found
the ship in the river, surrounded by a crowd of boats; a favourable wind
blowing; the signal for sailing at her mast-head. I hired a boat directly, and
we put off to her; and getting through the little vortex of confusion of which
she was the centre, went on board.
Mr.
Peggotty was waiting for us on deck. He told me that Mr. Micawber had just now
been arrested again (and for the last time) at the suit of Heep, and that, in
compliance with a request I had made to him, he had paid the money, which I
repaid him. He then took us down between decks; and there, any lingering fears
I had of his having heard any rumours of what had happened, were dispelled by
Mr. Micawber's coming out of the gloom, taking his arm with an air of
friendship and protection, and telling me that they had scarcely been asunder
for a moment, since the night before last.
It was
such a strange scene to me, and so confined and dark, that, at first, I could
make out hardly anything; but, by degrees, it cleared, as my eyes became more
accustomed to the gloom, and I seemed to stand in a picture by OSTADE. Among
the great beams, bulks, and ringbolts of the ship, and the emigrant-berths, and
chests, and bundles, and barrels, and heaps of miscellaneous baggage—'lighted
up, here and there, by dangling lanterns; and elsewhere by the yellow daylight
straying down a windsail or a hatchway—were crowded groups of people, making
new friendships, taking leave of one another, talking, laughing, crying, eating
and drinking; some, already settled down into the possession of their few feet
of space, with their little households arranged, and tiny children established
on stools, or in dwarf elbow-chairs; others, despairing of a resting-place, and
wandering disconsolately. From babies who had but a week or two of life behind
them, to crooked old men and women who seemed to have but a week or two of life
before them; and from ploughmen bodily carrying out soil of England on their
boots, to smiths taking away samples of its soot and smoke upon their skins;
every age and occupation appeared to be crammed into the narrow compass of the
'tween decks.
As my eye
glanced round this place, I thought I saw sitting, by an open port, with one of
the Micawber children near her, a figure like Emily's; it first attracted my
attention, by another figure parting from it with a kiss; and as it glided
calmly away through the disorder, reminding me of—Agnes! But in the rapid
motion and confusion, and in the unsettlement of my own thoughts, I lost it
again; and only knew that the time was come when all visitors were being warned
to leave the ship; that my nurse was crying on a chest beside me; and that Mrs.
Gummidge, assisted by some younger stooping woman in black, was busily
arranging Mr. Peggotty's goods.
'Is there
any last wured, Mas'r Davy?' said he. 'Is there any one forgotten thing afore
we parts?'
'One
thing!' said I. 'Martha!'
He
touched the younger woman I have mentioned on the shoulder, and Martha stood
before me.
'Heaven
bless you, you good man!' cried I. 'You take her with you!'
She
answered for him, with a burst of tears. I could speak no more at that time,
but I wrung his hand; and if ever I have loved and honoured any man, I loved
and honoured that man in my soul.
The ship
was clearing fast of strangers. The greatest trial that I had, remained. I told
him what the noble spirit that was gone, had given me in charge to say at
parting. It moved him deeply. But when he charged me, in return, with many
messages of affection and regret for those deaf ears, he moved me more.
The time
was come. I embraced him, took my weeping nurse upon my arm, and hurried away.
On deck, I took leave of poor Mrs. Micawber. She was looking distractedly about
for her family, even then; and her last words to me were, that she never would
desert Mr. Micawber.
We went
over the side into our boat, and lay at a little distance, to see the ship
wafted on her course. It was then calm, radiant sunset. She lay between us, and
the red light; and every taper line and spar was visible against the glow. A
sight at once so beautiful, so mournful, and so hopeful, as the glorious ship,
lying, still, on the flushed water, with all the life on board her crowded at
the bulwarks, and there clustering, for a moment, bare-headed and silent, I
never saw.
Silent,
only for a moment. As the sails rose to the wind, and the ship began to move,
there broke from all the boats three resounding cheers, which those on board
took up, and echoed back, and which were echoed and re-echoed. My heart burst
out when I heard the sound, and beheld the waving of the hats and
handkerchiefs—and then I saw her!
Then I
saw her, at her uncle's side, and trembling on his shoulder. He pointed to us
with an eager hand; and she saw us, and waved her last good-bye to me. Aye,
Emily, beautiful and drooping, cling to him with the utmost trust of thy
bruised heart; for he has clung to thee, with all the might of his great love!
Surrounded
by the rosy light, and standing high upon the deck, apart together, she
clinging to him, and he holding her, they solemnly passed away. The night had
fallen on the Kentish hills when we were rowed ashore—and fallen darkly upon
me.
To be continued
