Dombey and Son
heavenly spirit, as if he had got it all by heart in Greek, and had
been able to write any number of fierce theological disquisitions on
its every phrase.
Rob the Grinder, whose reverence for the inspired writings, under the
admirable system of the Grinders’ School, had been developed by a
perpetual bruising of his intellectual shins against all the proper
names of all the tribes of Judah, and by the monotonous repetition of
hard verses, especially by way of punishment, and by the parading of
him at six years old in leather breeches, three times a Sunday, very
high up, in a very hot church, with a great organ buzzing against his
drowsy head, like an exceedingly busy bee—Rob the Grinder made a mighty
show of being edified when the Captain ceased to read, and generally
yawned and nodded while the reading was in progress. The latter fact
being never so much as suspected by the good Captain.
Captain Cuttle, also, as a man of business; took to keeping books. In
these he entered observations on the weather, and on the currents of
the waggons and other vehicles: which he observed, in that quarter, to
set westward in the morning and during the greater part of the day, and
eastward towards the evening. Two or three stragglers appearing in one
week, who “spoke him”—so the Captain entered it—on the subject of
spectacles, and who, without positively purchasing, said they would
look in again, the Captain decided that the business was improving, and
made an entry in the day-book to that effect: the wind then blowing
(which he first recorded) pretty fresh, west and by north; having
changed in the night.
One of the Captain’s chief difficulties was Mr Toots, who called
frequently, and who without saying much seemed to have an idea that the
little back parlour was an eligible room to chuckle in, as he would sit
and avail himself of its accommodations in that regard by the half-hour
together, without at all advancing in intimacy with the Captain. The
Captain, rendered cautious by his late experience, was unable quite to
satisfy his mind whether Mr Toots was the mild subject he appeared to
be, or was a profoundly artful and dissimulating hypocrite. His
frequent reference to Miss Dombey was suspicious; but the Captain had a
secret kindness for Mr Toots’s apparent reliance on him, and forbore to
decide against him for the present; merely eyeing him, with a sagacity
not to be described, whenever he approached the subject that was
nearest to his heart.
“Captain Gills,” blurted out Mr Toots, one day all at once, as his
manner was, “do you think you could think favourably of that
proposition of mine, and give me the pleasure of your acquaintance?”
“Why, I tell you what it is, my lad,” replied the Captain, who had at
length concluded on a course of action; “I’ve been turning that there,
over.”
“Captain Gills, it’s very kind of you,” retorted Mr Toots. “I’m much
obliged to you. Upon my word and honour, Captain Gills, it would be a
charity to give me the pleasure of your acquaintance. It really would.”
“You see, brother,” argued the Captain slowly, “I don’t know you.”
“But you never can know me, Captain Gills,” replied Mr Toots, steadfast
to his point, “if you don’t give me the pleasure of your acquaintance.”
The Captain seemed struck by the originality and power of this remark,
and looked at Mr Toots as if he thought there was a great deal more in
him than he had expected.
“Well said, my lad,” observed the Captain, nodding his head
thoughtfully; “and true. Now look’ee here: You’ve made some
observations to me, which gives me to understand as you admire a
certain sweet creetur. Hey?”
“Captain Gills,” said Mr Toots, gesticulating violently with the hand
in which he held his hat, “Admiration is not the word. Upon my honour,
you have no conception what my feelings are. If I could be dyed black,
and made Miss Dombey’s slave, I should consider it a compliment. If, at
the sacrifice of all my property, I could get transmigrated into Miss
Dombey’s dog—I—I really think I should never leave off wagging my tail.
I should be so perfectly happy, Captain Gills!”
Mr Toots said it with watery eyes, and pressed his hat against his
bosom with deep emotion.
“My lad,” returned the Captain, moved to compassion, “if you’re in
arnest—”
“Captain Gills,” cried Mr Toots, “I’m in such a state of mind, and am
so dreadfully in earnest, that if I could swear to it upon a hot piece
of iron, or a live coal, or melted lead, or burning sealing-wax, Or
anything of that sort, I should be glad to hurt myself, as a relief to
my feelings.” And Mr Toots looked hurriedly about the room, as if for
some sufficiently painful means of accomplishing his dread purpose.
The Captain pushed his glazed hat back upon his head, stroked his face
down with his heavy hand—making his nose more mottled in the
process—and planting himself before Mr Toots, and hooking him by the
lapel of his coat, addressed him in these words, while Mr Toots looked
up into his face, with much attention and some wonder.
“If you’re in arnest, you see, my lad,” said the Captain, “you’re a
object of clemency, and clemency is the brightest jewel in the crown of
a Briton’s head, for which you’ll overhaul the constitution as laid
down in Rule Britannia, and, when found, that is the charter as them
garden angels was a singing of, so many times over. Stand by! This here
proposal o’ you’rn takes me a little aback. And why? Because I holds my
own only, you understand, in these here waters, and haven’t got no
consort, and may be don’t wish for none. Steady! You hailed me first,
along of a certain young lady, as you was chartered by. Now if you and
me is to keep one another’s company at all, that there young creetur’s
name must never be named nor referred to. I don’t know what harm mayn’t
have been done by naming of it too free, afore now, and thereby I
brings up short. D’ye make me out pretty clear, brother?”
“Well, you’ll excuse me, Captain Gills,” replied Mr Toots, “if I don’t
quite follow you sometimes. But upon my word I—it’s a hard thing,
Captain Gills, not to be able to mention Miss Dombey. I really have got
such a dreadful load here!”—Mr Toots pathetically touched his
shirt-front with both hands—“that I feel night and day, exactly as if
somebody was sitting upon me.”
“Them,” said the Captain, “is the terms I offer. If they’re hard upon
you, brother, as mayhap they are, give ’em a wide berth, sheer off, and
part company cheerily!”
“Captain Gills,” returned Mr Toots, “I hardly know how it is, but after
what you told me when I came here, for the first time, I—I feel that
I’d rather think about Miss Dombey in your society than talk about her
in almost anybody else’s. Therefore, Captain Gills, if you’ll give me
the pleasure of your acquaintance, I shall be very happy to accept it
on your own conditions. I wish to be honourable, Captain Gills,” said
Mr Toots, holding back his extended hand for a moment, “and therefore I
am obliged to say that I can not help thinking about Miss Dombey. It’s
impossible for me to make a promise not to think about her.”
“My lad,” said the Captain, whose opinion of Mr Toots was much improved
by this candid avowal, “a man’s thoughts is like the winds, and nobody
can’t answer for ’em for certain, any length of time together. Is it a
treaty as to words?”
“As to words, Captain Gills,” returned Mr Toots, “I think I can bind
myself.”
Mr Toots gave Captain Cuttle his hand upon it, then and there; and the
Captain with a pleasant and gracious show of condescension, bestowed
his acquaintance upon him formally. Mr Toots seemed much relieved and
gladdened by the acquisition, and chuckled rapturously during the
remainder of his visit. The Captain, for his part, was not ill pleased
to occupy that position of patronage, and was exceedingly well
satisfied by his own prudence and foresight.
But rich as Captain Cuttle was in the latter quality, he received a
surprise that same evening from a no less ingenuous and simple youth,
than Rob the Grinder. That artless lad, drinking tea at the same table,
and bending meekly over his cup and saucer, having taken sidelong
observations of his master for some time, who was reading the newspaper
with great difficulty, but much dignity, through his glasses, broke
silence by saying—
“Oh! I beg your pardon, Captain, but you mayn’t be in want of any
pigeons, may you, Sir?”
“No, my lad,” replied the Captain.
“Because I was wishing to dispose of mine, Captain,” said Rob.
“Ay, ay?” cried the Captain, lifting up his bushy eyebrows a little.
“Yes; I’m going, Captain, if you please,” said Rob.
“Going? Where are you going?” asked the Captain, looking round at him
over the glasses.
“What? didn’t you know that I was going to leave you, Captain?” asked
Rob, with a sneaking smile.
The Captain put down the paper, took off his spectacles, and brought
his eyes to bear on the deserter.
“Oh yes, Captain, I am going to give you warning. I thought you’d have
known that beforehand, perhaps,” said Rob, rubbing his hands, and
getting up. “If you could be so good as provide yourself soon, Captain,
it would be a great convenience to me. You couldn’t provide yourself by
to-morrow morning, I am afraid, Captain: could you, do you think?”
“And you’re a going to desert your colours, are you, my lad?” said the
Captain, after a long examination of his face.
“Oh, it’s very hard upon a cove, Captain,” cried the tender Rob,
injured and indignant in a moment, “that he can’t give lawful warning,
without being frowned at in that way, and called a deserter. You
haven’t any right to call a poor cove names, Captain. It ain’t because
I’m a servant and you’re a master, that you’re to go and libel me. What
wrong have I done? Come, Captain, let me know what my crime is, will
you?”
The stricken Grinder wept, and put his coat-cuff in his eye.
“Come, Captain,” cried the injured youth, “give my crime a name! What
have I been and done? Have I stolen any of the property? have I set the
house a-fire? If I have, why don’t you give me in charge, and try it?
But to take away the character of a lad that’s been a good servant to
you, because he can’t afford to stand in his own light for your good,
what a injury it is, and what a bad return for faithful service! This
is the way young coves is spiled and drove wrong. I wonder at you,
Captain, I do.”
All of which the Grinder howled forth in a lachrymose whine, and
backing carefully towards the door.
“And so you’ve got another berth, have you, my lad?” said the Captain,
eyeing him intently.
“Yes, Captain, since you put it in that shape, I have got another
berth,” cried Rob, backing more and more; “a better berth than I’ve got
here, and one where I don’t so much as want your good word, Captain,
which is fort’nate for me, after all the dirt you’ve throw’d at me,
because I’m poor, and can’t afford to stand in my own light for your
good. Yes, I have got another berth; and if it wasn’t for leaving you
unprovided, Captain, I’d go to it now, sooner than I’d take them names
from you, because I’m poor, and can’t afford to stand in my own light
for your good. Why do you reproach me for being poor, and not standing
in my own light for your good, Captain? How can you so demean
yourself?”
“Look ye here, my boy,” replied the peaceful Captain. “Don’t you pay
out no more of them words.”
“Well, then, don’t you pay in no more of your words, Captain,” retorted
the roused innocent, getting louder in his whine, and backing into the
shop. “I’d sooner you took my blood than my character.”
“Because,” pursued the Captain calmly, “you have heerd, may be, of such
a thing as a rope’s end.”
“Oh, have I though, Captain?” cried the taunting Grinder. “No I
haven’t. I never heerd of any such a article!”