The Adventures of Roderick Random
many needless airs; better folks than any here have travelled in
waggons before now. Some of us have rode in coaches and chariots, with
three footmen behind them, without making so much fuss about it. What
then? We are now all upon a footing; therefore let us be sociable and
merry. What do you say, Isaac? Is not this a good motion, you doting
rogue? Speak, you old cent per cent fornicator? What desperate debt are
you thinking of? What mortgage are you planning? Well, Isaac,
positively you shall never gain my favour till you turn over a new
leaf, grow honest, and live like a gentleman. In the meantime give me a
kiss, you old fumbler.” These words, accompanied with a hearty smack,
enlivened the person to whom they were addressed to such a degree that
he cried, in transport, though with a faltering voice, “Ah! you wanton
baggage—upon my credit, you are a waggish girl—he, he, he!” This laugh
introduced a fit of coughing, which almost suffocated the poor usurer
(such we afterwards found was the profession of this our
fellow-traveller).
About this time I fell asleep, and enjoyed a comfortable nap till such
time as we arrived at the inn where we put up. Here, having alighted
from the waggon, I had an opportunity of viewing the passengers in
order as they entered. The first who appeared was a brisk, airy girl,
about twenty years old, with a silver-laced hat on her head instead of
a cap, a blue stuff riding-suit, trimmed with silver very much
tarnished, and a whip in her hand. After her came, limping, an old man,
with a worsted nightcap buttoned under his chin, and a broad-brimmed
hat slouched over it, an old rusty blue cloak tied about his neck,
under which appeared a brown surtout, that covered a threadbare coat
and waistcoat, and, as he afterwards discerned, a dirty flannel jacket.
His eyes were hollow, bleared, and gummy; his face was shrivelled into
a thousand wrinkles, his gums were destitute of teeth, his nose sharp
and drooping, his chin peaked and prominent, so that, when he mumped or
spoke, they approached one another like a pair of nutcrackers: he
supported himself on an ivory-headed cane and his whole figure was a
just emblem of winter, famine, and avarice. But how was I surprised,
when I beheld the formidable captain in the shape of a little thin
creature, about the age of forty, with a long withered visage, very
much resembling that of a baboon, through the upper part of which two
little gray eyes peeped: he wore his own hair in a queue that reached
to his rump, which immoderate length, I suppose, was the occasion of a
baldness that appeared on the crown of his head when he deigned to take
off his hat, which was very much of the size and cock of Pistol’s.
Having laid aside his great-coat, I could not help admiring the
extraordinary make of this man of war: he was about five feet and three
inches high, sixteen inches of which went to his face and long scraggy
neck: his thighs were about six inches in length, his legs resembling
spindles or drumsticks, five feet and a half, and his body, which put
me in mind of extension without substance, engrossed the remainder: so
that on the whole, he appeared like a spider or grasshopper erect, and
was almost a vox et praeterea nihil. His dress consisted of a frock of
what is called bearskin, the skirts of which were about half a foot
long, an hussar waistcoat, scarlet breeches reaching half way down his
thighs, worsted stockings rolled up almost to his groin, and shoes with
wooden heels at least two inches high; he carried a sword very near as
long as himself in one hand, and with the other conducted his lady, who
seemed to be a woman of his own age, and still retained some remains of
an agreeable person, but so ridiculously affected, that, had I not been
a novice in the world, I might have easily perceived in her the
deplorable vanity and second-hand airs of a lady’s woman.
We were all assembled in the kitchen, when Captain Weazel (for that was
his name) desired a room with a fire for himself and spouse, and told
the landlord they would up by themselves. The innkeeper replied that he
could not afford them a room by themselves; and as for supping, he had
prepared victuals for the passengers in the waggon, without respect of
persons, but if he could prevail on the rest to let him have his choice
in a separate manner, he should be very well pleased. This was no
sooner said than all of us declared against the proposal, and Miss
Jenny (our other female passenger), observed that, if Captain Weazel
and his lady had a mind to sup by themselves, they might wait until we
should have done. At this hint the captain put on a martial frown, and
looked very big, without speaking; while his yokefellow, with a
disdainful toss of her nose, muttered something about “Creature!” which
Miss Jenny overhearing, stepped up to her, saying, “None of your names,
good Mrs. Abigail. Creature, quotha—I’ll assure you no such creature as
you neither—no ten-pound sneaker—no quality-coupler.” Here the captain
interposed, with a “D—e, madam, what do you mean by that?” “D—n you
sir, who are you?” replied Miss Jenny, “who made you a captain, you
pitiful, trencher-scraping, pimping curler? ’Sdeath! the army is come
to a fine pass, when such fellows as you get commissions. What, I
suppose you think I don’t know you? Egad, you and your helpmate are
well met—a cast-off mistress and a bald valet-de-chambre are well yoked
together.” “Blood and wounds!” cried Weazel, “d’ye question the honour
of my wife, madam? Hell and d-ion! No man in England durst say so
much—I would flay him, carbonado him! Fury and destruction! I would
have his liver for my supper.” So saying, he drew his sword and
flourished with it, to the great terror of Strap; while Miss Jenny,
snapping her fingers, told him she did not value his resentment a
louse.
In the midst of this quarrel the master of the waggon alighted, who,
understanding the cause of the disturbance, and fearing the captain and
his lady would take umbrage and leave his carriage, was at great pains
to have everything made up, which he at last accomplished, and we sat
down to supper altogether. At bedtime we were shown to our apartments;
the old usurer, Strap, and I, to one room; the captain, his wife, and
Miss Jenny, to another. About midnight, my companion’s bowels being
disordered, he got up, in order to go backward, but in his return,
mistaking one door for another, entered Weazel’s chamber, and without
any hesitation went to bed to his wife, who was fast asleep, the
captain being at another end of the room groping for some empty vessel,
in lieu of his own chamberpot, which was leaky: as he did not perceive
Strap coming in, he went towards his own bed, after having found a
convenience; but no sooner did he feel a rough head, covered with a
cotton nightcap, than it came into his mind that he had mistaken Miss
Jenny’s bed instead of his own, and that the head he felt was that of
some gallant, with whom she had made an assignation. Full of his
conjecture, and scandalised at the prostitution of his apartment, he
snatched up the vessel he had just before filled, and emptied it at
once on the astonished barber and his own wife, who waking at that
instant, broke forth into lamentable cries, which not only alarmed the
husband beyond measure, but frighted poor Strap almost out of his
senses; for he verily believed himself bewitched, especially when the
incensed captain seized him by the throat, with a volley of oaths,
asking him how he durst have the presumption to attempt the chastity of
his wife. Poor Strap was so amazed and confounded, that he could say
nothing but—“I take God to witness she’s a virgin for me.”
Mrs. Weazel, enraged to find herself in such a pickle through the
precipitation of her husband, arose in her shift, and with the heel of
her shoe which she found by the bedside, belaboured the captain’s bald
pate till he roared “Murder.” “I’ll teach you to empty your stinkpots
on me,” cried she, “you pitiful hop-o’-my-thumb coxcomb. What, I
warrant you’re jealous, you man of lath. Was it for this I condescended
to take you to my bed, you poor, withered, sapless twig?”
The noise occasioned by this adventure had brought the master of the
waggon and me to the door, where we overheard all that passed with
great satisfaction. In the meantime we were alarmed with the cry of
“Rape! Murder! Rape!” which Jenny pronounced with great vociferation.
“Oh! You vile abominable old villain,” said she, “would you rob me of
my virtue? But I’ll be revenged of you, you old goat! I will! Help! for
heaven’s sake! help! I shall be ravished! ruined! help!” Some servants
of the inn, hearing this cry, came running upstairs with lights, and
such weapons as chance afforded; when we beheld a very diverting scene.
In one corner stood the poor captain shivering in his shirt, which was
all torn to rags: with a woeful visage, scratched all over by his wife,
who had by this time wrapped the counterpane about her, and sat sobbing
on the side of her bed. At the other end lay the old usurer, sprawling
on Miss Jenny’s bed, with his flannel jacket over his shirt, and his
tawny meagre limbs exposed to the air; while she held him fast by the
two ears, and loaded him with execrations. When he asked what was the
matter, she affected to weep, told us she was afraid that wicked rogue
had ruined her in her sleep, and bade us take notice of what we saw,
for she intended to make use of our evidence against him. The poor
wretch looked like one more dead than alive, and begged to be released;
a favour which he had no sooner obtained than he protested she was no
woman, but a devil incarnate—that she had first seduced his flesh to
rebel, and then betrayed him. “Yes, cockatrice,” continued he, “you
know you laid this snare for me—but you shan’t succeed—for I will hang
myself before you shall get a farthing of me.” So saying, he crawled to
his own bed, groaning all the way. We then advanced to the Captain, who
told us, “Gentlemen, here has been a d—d mistake; but I’ll be revenged
on him who was the cause of it. That Scotchman who carries the knapsack
shall not breathe this vital air another day, if my name be Weazel. My
dear, I ask you ten thousand pardons; you are sensible, I could mean no
harm to you.” “I know not what you meant,” replied she, sighing, “but I
know I have got enough to send me to my grave.” At length they were
reconciled. The wife was complimented with a share of Miss Jenny’s bed
(her own being overflowed), and the master of the waggon invited Weazel
to sleep the remaining part of the night with him. I retired to mine,
where I found Strap mortally afraid, he having stolen away in the dark
while the captain and his lady were at loggerheads.
CHAPTER XII
Captain Weazel challenges Strap, who declines the Combat—an Affair
between the Captain and me—the Usurer is fain to give Miss Jenny five
Guineas for a Release—we are in Danger of losing a Meal—the Behaviour
of Weazel, Jenny, and Joey, on that Occasion—an Account of Captain
Weazel and his Lady—the Captain’s Courage tried—Isaac’s mirth at the
Captain’s Expense
Next morning I agreed to give the master of the waggon ten shillings
for my passage to London, provided Strap should be allowed to take my
place when I should be disposed to walk. At the same time I desired him
to appease the incensed captain, who had entered the kitchen with a
drawn sword in his hand, and threatened with many oaths to sacrifice
the villain who attempted to violate his bed; but it was to no purpose
for the master to explain the mistake, and assure him of the poor lad’s
innocence, who stood trembling behind me all the while: the more
submission that appeared in Strap, the more implacable seemed the