Cradock Nowell: A Tale of the New Forest. Volume 2 of 3

“Mr. Newman?” asked the boy, with a patronizing air, which a little mind would have found offensive.

“To be sure,” replied Cradock; “I suppose I am expected.”

“That you are,” said the cheeky boy, grinning harder than ever; “the other three gents is waiting, sir. Get you a penny paper for three half–pence.”

“Thank you,” answered Cradock, hoping to depress that boy, “I am not come here, young man, I trust, to waste time in reading the papers.”

“Oh no! oh lor no,” cried the boy as he led the way in; “tip–top business this is, and all of us wears out our marrow–bones. His Ro–oyal Highness will be here bumbye. ‘Spect theyʼll appoint you to receive him, ‘cos you would look such a swell with our governorʼs best boots on. Donʼt you refoose now, mind me, donʼt refoose, mate, if you loves me.”

“You want a little whipcord,” said Cradock; “and you shall have it too, my boy, if you come much into my neighbourhood.”

“There now; there now!” sighed the boy – who would have been worth something on the stage – “I have never been appreciated, and suppose I never shall. Whatʼs the odds to a jinker? Cockalocks, there go in, and let me mind your beaver.”

Cradock was shown into a room furnished as philosophically as the wash–house of Cincinnatus; still, it looked like business. There was no temptation to sit down, even though one had rowing–trousers on. There were four tall desks of deal uncovered; each had four legs, and resembled a naked Punch–and–Judy box. Hales, the Norfolk giant, could not have written at either of them, while sitting on any of the stools there.

Three of these desks were appropriated by three very nice young gentlemen, all burning to begin their labours. Two of the men were unknown to Cradock; but the third, the very short one, who had taken a stool to stand upon, and was mending a pen most earnestly – him Cradock recognised at once as the disburser of the shilling, the sanguine youth, of broad views in apparel, who had cheated Mr. Wibraham so.

“Mr. Fookes, I presume,” he exclaimed, with a leap from the stool, and a little run towards Cradock; “you see we are all ready, sir, to receive the junior partner. Hardly know what to be up to.”

“I am sure I cannot tell you,” answered Crad, with a smile; “I do not belong to the firm as yet, although I am promised a partnership at a date not very distant.”

“So am I,” said the little man, staring; “indeed, I came up from Cambridge principally upon the strength of it.”

“The deevil you did!” cried a tall, strapping fellow, crossing suddenly from his desk; “if yeʼll hearken me, my time comes first. The agrahment was signed for Candlemas, when the gloot of business allows it. And a Durham man knows what coals are.”

“Agrayment, thin, is it?” exclaimed the fourth, a flourishing, red–haired Irishman; “do you think Iʼd a left me Oonivarsity, Thrinity College, Dooblin, wiʼout having it down all black and white? By the same token, itʼs meself as is foremost. Christmas is the time, me boys; and the farst dividend on St. Pathrickʼs Day, wakely sthipend in the intherim. Divil take me sowl, but none o’ ye shall git before Manus OʼToole.”

“Gentlemen,” said Cradock, “donʼt let us be in a hurry. No doubt Mr. Fookes will be here presently, and then we can settle precedence. I see there is work set out for us; and I suppose we are not all strangers here.”

“Canʼt answer for the other gentlemen,” returned the little Cambridge man, “but I was never here before, except to see the place on Saturday.”

“And thatʼs joost my own predeecament,” cried the tall man from Hatfield Hall.

“Chop me up smarl,” said the Irishman, when they turned to him as their senior, “but the gintleman has the advantage o’ me. I niver was here at all, at all; and I hope I niver shall be.”

The four young men gathered round a desk, and gazed sadly at one another. At this moment the office–boy, seeing the distance safe, for he had been watching through the keyhole, pushed his head in at the door, and shouted, “Hi! there, young coal–merchants, donʼt yer sell too much now! Telegram from the Exchange, gents; grimy is on the rise. But excoose me half an hour, gents; Her Majesty have commanded my presence, to put the ro–oyal harms on me. Ho–hoop! Iʼm after you, Molly. Donʼt be afraid of my splashing your legs, dear.”

“Well,” said Cradock, as the rising young coal–merchants seemed to look to him for counsel, and stood in silent bewilderment – “it appears to me that there is something wrong. Let us hope that it is a mistake only; at any rate, let us stop, and see the matter out. I trust that none of you gentlemen have paid a premium, as I have.”

“I am sure I donʼt know,” said the Cantab, “what the others have done; but I was allowed to enter the firm for the sum of eighty guineas, a great deal too little, considering all the advantages offered – the proper sum being a hundred; but an abatement was made in my favour.”

“Ahty guineas!” cried the Durham man; “why I was admeeted for saxty, because I had no more.”

“Itʼs me blessed self, then, as bates you all,” shouted the son of Dublin; “shure and Iʼve made a clear sixty by it, for I hadnʼt no more than forty.”

“And I,” replied Cradock, with a melancholy air, “was received for the trifling sum of twenty, on account of my being an Oxford man.”

“Why, gentlemen,” said the little Cantab, “let us shake hands all round. We represent the four chief universities, only Scotland being omitted.”

“Catch a Scotchman with salt, me frinds!” cried the red Hibernian, as they went through the ceremony. “By Jasers, but that infarnal old Jew would have had to pay the porridge–man, for the pleasure of his company.”

“Now let us fall to our work, gentlemen” (Crad tried to look hopeful as he said it); “the books before us may throw some light upon this strange, and, as it seems, very roguish matter. I was told to act for our principal, during the absence of the sleeping partner; to keep you all in your places, and make you stick to your work; and especially to remember that one ounce of practice is worth a pound of precept.”

“I should be most happy, sir, to obey orders,” said the little Cambridge man, bowing; “only I hold the identical commission, ounce of practice and all, for your benefit, my good sir, and that of all the other juniors.”

“Now that shows a want of vareaty,” cried the tall Dunelmian, “for the sole charge of all of ye is commeeted to me.”

“Itʼs me blessed self that got it last, and that manes to kape it. What time wur you there, gintlemen, at Ory Thamis Buildings?”

It was settled that the Irishman had received his commission last, for, some whisky having been produced, he and Hearty Wibraham had kept it up until twelve oʼclock on the Saturday night. So, to his intense delight, he was now appointed captain.

“An’ if I donʼt drag him from his hole, to pay him the sixty guineas I owe him, out of your money, gintlemen, say my name isnʼt Manus OʼToole. Now the fust arder I give, is to have in the bhoy, and wallop him.”

Easier said than done, Mr. Toole. There was no boy to be found anywhere; and the only result of a strong demonstration in the passage was a curt note from the landlord.

“Gentlemen, – I understood as I had lett my rooms to a respectable party, rent payable weakly, and weak is up this day. Will take it a favuor to reseeve two pound ten per bearer.

    “John Codger.”

The four university men looked wondrously blank at this – “gelidusque per ima cucurrit ossa tremor.”

“Well, I am blowed!” cried the little Cantab, getting smaller, and with the sky–blue stripes on his trousers quivering.

“Thereʼs a cousin of mine, a soleecitor,” said the young north countryman, “would take up this case for us, if we made a joint deposeet.”

“Have down the landlord and fight him,” proposed the Emerald Islander.

“I donʼt care a fig for the landlord,” said Cradock, who now recalled some shavings of law from the Quarter Sessions spokeshave; “he can do nothing at all to us, until twelve oʼclock, and then he can send us about our business, and no more harm done. We were not parties to the original contract, and have nothing to do with the rent. Now, gentlemen, there is only one thing I would ask you, in return for my lucid legal opinion.”

“What is that?” cried all the rest; “whatever it is, you shall have it.”

“That you make over to me, vivâ voce, your three–fourths of the brass–plate. I have taken a strange fancy to it; the engraving is so fine.”

“You are perfectly welcome to it,” exclaimed the other three; “but wonʼt it belong to the landlord?”

“Not if it is merely screwed on, as probably is the case. And I have a screw–driver in my knife, which very few screws can resist.”

“Then go and take it, by all means, before twelve oʼclock, for afterwards we shall only be trespassers.”

Crad put his hat on and went out, but returned with the wonderful screw–driver snapped up into his knife–handle, and the first flush of real British anger yet seen upon his countenance. What wonderful beings we are! He had lost nearly all his substance, and he was vexed most about the brass–plate.

“Done at every point,” he said; “that glorious under–plate is gone, and only the narrow bar left with the name of the thief upon it, which of course would not suit him again.”

“Oysters all round!” cried the Cambridge man, “as the landlord cannot distrain us. An oyster is a legal esculent; I see they teach law at Oxford; let us at least die jolly. And I claim the privilege of standing oysters, because I have paid the highest premium, and am the most promising partner – at any rate, the softest fellow. Gentlemen, if you refuse me, I claim our captainʼs decision. Captain OʼToole, how is it?”

“Arrah, thin, and I order eysters at this gintlemanʼs expinse, London stout for the waker stomiks, and a drop o’ poteen for digestion, to them as are wakest of all.”

“Done,” said the little Cantab, “if only to rile the landlord, and he may distrain the shells. Call four university men, by implication, unrespectable parties! We must have our action against him. Gentlemen. I am off for the grub, and see that I get in again.”