Foggerty's Fairy and Other Tales/The Finger of Fate
THE FINGER OF FATE.
I am going to give you an instance of the desperately strong measures Fate will take in order to bring about an event she has set her mind on.
I am a middle-aged bachelor, of staid and careful habits. I am pretty comfortably "off," having an independent income of £400 a-year, and a Civil Service pension of £700 a-year. I was for many years Secretary of the Warrant Officers' Shirt-frill and Shaving-Soap Department, a branch office under the Admiralty, Somerset House.
I have led a quiet and retired life—shunning society in its gayest sense, and associating intimately with three or four other heads of subordinate departments, and with no one else. I am naturally nervous, and, I am afraid, irritable. I hate bright colours, unnecessary conversation, useless noises—such as vocal and instrumental music, and the neighing of horses—and I can't bear to see people in quick motion. If I had my way, no one should speak to me except on matters of pure business, and only then when the communication could not be conveniently reduced into the form of a memorandum. Above all other things, I detest forward people—and above all other forward people, I detest strangers, who address me on immaterial topics in public conveyances.
I had occasion, a few weeks after my retirement from official life, to travel to Liverpool by the limited mail on my way to Jamaica. A railway journey to Liverpool is detestable, but posting is worse, and walking out of the question.
It was a cold night in April. There were very few passengers by the limited mail. There were only four first-class carriages to Liverpool: of these, three were occupied by ladies—one in each carriage; the fourth was a smoking carriage and empty. I don't smoke, but the train was on the point of starting, and the guard assured me that it was unlikely that we should take up any first-class passengers on our way. It was a new carriage, and had never been used. At all events I should be safe from female intrusion; so I jumped in. The train started, and I had my carriage all to myself. The train did not stop till we reached Eugby. At Eugby a lady opened the carriage door. She was a stout plain middle-aged woman—five-and-forty, I should say. She was extravagantly dressed in showy colours. Her complexion was very dark—she was, in fact, a Mulatto—and she wore a respectable moustache.
This wouldn't do; I could settle her at all events.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am, but this is a smoking carriage."
"Exactly," replied the lady, with a strong foreign accent, "but I smokes."
This was a contingency that I had never contemplated.
"You give me light, sar?" said the foreign lady.
Here was a chance of escape.
"I have no lights, madam."
"Ah, dash!" she said. "But, no consequence Guard!"
The guard came up.
"You give me light?"
And he gave her a light, and then he disappeared.
I was nearly choking with the fumes of her detestable Havannah. At last I could stand it no longer.
"I beg your pardon, but I object to smoking."
"Ah," replied the lady, "you object to smoke—you travel in smoking carriage. Donkey—jackass donkey!"
She said these last three words with the air of one who had done a short addition sum, and was stating the total.
I had never travelled abroad, but I knew that foreigners are remarkable for their politeness.
"I entered this carriage to avoid the society of ladies."
"Me, too," said the foreign lady. "Dash! I hate lady. I like gentleman." Then she added as an after-thought, "You are haughty old customer, but I like you—you rummy old passenger!"
I was exceedingly annoyed at this. I plume myself upon my good taste in dress—that is to say, I study to dress myself in such a manner as to call for no remark of any kind, which I hold to be the perfection of good taste. My personal appearance is simply gentlemanly, without anything remarkable about it. It has been my constant study to be gentlemanly but usual; and to be called a "rummy old passenger" was under the circumstances an irritating thing. However, I maintained a dignified silence.
It was a very cold night, and having regard to the strong dash of negro blood in my fellow-passenger's veins, thought it would irritate her if I let down the window.
Accordingly, I did so.
"Thank you, old passenger," she said: "I like fresh airs. I let this one down too!" And she lowered the other window.
I couldn't stand the draught so I put up my window—and she put up hers. Something like this occurs in "Box and Cox."
I was sulkily furious by this time. In half-an-hour we should reach Stafford, and I determined to change my carriage at that station. In the meantime I tried to sleep, but the foreign lady kept up such an incessant clatter that sleep was out of the question.
"Where you going, old passenger? You not tell? Secret, eh? Ah, sly old dog! You old cashier, perhaps,, bolting with bank moneys, eh? Confidential clerk with employer's cash-box in portmanteau, eh? Old boy going up north to marry old gir1 on the sly, eh? Bagman and ashamed of it, perhaps, eh, you old passenger? Bah! Bagman good as anybody else! Never be ashamed—look at me! Me not blush at myself. What you say I am?—eh? You not guess. Duchess? No! Countess? No! Lady of large property—wife of Liverpool merchant? Devil a bit! Missionary woman? No! Tight-rope dancer? No! Stewardess on West Indiaman spending pay? Yes—Hullo! What's that?"
I did not know what it was, but there was a sudden snap and our carriage suddenly slackened speed, and eventually stopped. I put my head out of the window. The coupling had broken, and our carriage and the guard's van had been separated from the rest of the train. The driver knew nothing about it; and there we were, half-way between Rugby and Stafford at 12 p.m. on a very cold April night!
"Good Heavens!" said I, in the very greatest alarm, "the coupling has broken and we are left behind by the train! We shall be smashed by the next down train!"
"Not a bit, you old strange one!" replied she, without even looking out of the window. "Guard at end of train. If we broke off, he broke off too."
The guard had, in point of fact, rushed forward, moving his lantern in the faint hope of being able to attract the attention of the driver, but in vain. So he returned, very excited, but very sulky.
"What in the world are we to do?" asked I.
"Get out of this, you and your old woman, while I run back to Tamworth to telegraph. Come, out you go"
"But where are we to go? It is raining hard, and we shall be soaked through and through."
"There's a light yonder across the common. You'd better trot over there, yon and your old woman, and knock 'em up. I don't know the country just here." And off he went like lightning.
"His advice very good, my old man," said my companion. " I take your arm, and we trot. Come, rum chap."
There was no help for it. I succumbed, and we had a squashy walk over a pathless and furzy common, half a mile in diameter. My companion had a knack of tumbling down in a sitting attitude at the faintest provocation; and if I lifted her up once I lifted her up twenty times. Twenty times sixteen stone is exactly two tons—which represents the weight I lifted off Copley Common that night. (I have since had reason to believe that her actual weight was fifteen stone three, but I say sixteen stone because I take into consideration the moisture with which her clothes were saturated.)
At length, after twenty minutes' difficult walking, we reached the light that had attracted our attention. It proceeded from the window of a very small cottage. We knocked, and eventually the door was opened to us. In the meantime, my companion, who had informed me that her name was Dolly Fortescue, sang negro songs in a deep contralto.
"Wot is it?" said the cottager.
"There has been an accident on the line, and we want shelter."
"Wot'll you give?"
"A guinea," said Miss Fortescue. "This rum old card give a guinea."
"Well, you can lie in the stable. My cottage is chock-full."
He took a lantern and showed me the way to the "stable," which was a hut with one stall and a loose box in which was a very untidy donkey. I at once declined to share this stable with Miss Fortescue, preferring to risk a night in the rain. I stated my intention.
"Old boy is quite right. He's a rummy old passenger, but he's quite right. Come along, queer little old man—we walk somewheres else."
"Now, lookee here," said the man. "Wot's your game, you two? Wot are yer up to? Is this here a lark? Where's my guinea! Come!—be a gentleman afore ye goes! None of this with me you know! Give us 'old of my guinea! Come!"
"Old man," said Dolly to me, "pull out employer's cash-box and give guinea like bird."
"Wot's this here about cash-boxes?" said the man. "Come, out with that guinea! We hears a good deal about it, but we don't see none of it. Come, let's see some of it. Be a man!"
"I shall give you nothing," said I. "You are an insolent scoundrel!"
"Wot!" said the man. "Wot's this here about cash-boxes? Come along o' me!" and he laid his hand upon my collar.
"You scoundrel!" said I, "If I were a stronger man than you are I'd"
"Wot, assault the perlice? My eye, here's a go! Come along o' me! I'm the constable. I'll give you a lodging. So it's cash-boxes, is it? Come along o' me—both on yer!"
And he led us to a square building at the back of his house, and, unlocking the door, pushed us in.
"Now," he said, "I'm a-going to search you."
And he did; but he found nothing except a few sovereigns—for my money was in my dispatch box which had been placed in the luggage van.
"Now," said he, "how about searching your good woman? I ain't a-goin' to do it—and I ain't got a missus. Lookee here, suppose you do?"
"Sir, this lady is a total stranger to me."
"Ah! separate responsibilities, eh? The hold story. Now, lookee here, ma'am, I ain't a-goin' to search you, because I've been properly brought up: but I'm a-goin' to shake you to see if you rattle."
Miss Fortescue made no verbal reply, but pulled out a gigantic clasp knife.
"All rights," said she. "Come on policeman!" He hesitated.
"Look, policeman, I tell you what I do. I walk out of this. Good nights!" And she did.
The policeman turned pale and civil.
"Ain't you goin' along with her, sir?" said he.
"I am not. I pass the night here."
He retired, swearing fluently, and locked the door on me.
I could not sleep—but, at all events, I was free at last from my persecutrix. I was so pleased that I sang a merry song, and carved my name on the wall with a rusty nail, as other prisoners have done before me. The next day I was taken before a magistrate, who dismissed the case at once, and I resumed my journey. When I reached Liverpool I found that my ship was on the point of sailing. My luggage had been placed on board, and my half-cabin was ready for me. We had dreadful weather at sea ; we were driven many hundred miles out of our course, and for three weeks after leaving Liverpool I was terribly, ill, and did not leave my cabin. I believe I should not have left my cabin at all if I had not been thrown bodily out of it by a tremendous concussion one stormy night.
I rushed on deck, and found everything in the wildest confusion. A fearful storm was raging, and the ship had shifted her cargo. There was absolutely no hope for her, and it was impossible to launch a boat, even if it could have lived in such a sea. I don't want to harrow anybody, so I will content myself with explaining that, amid the shrieks of three hundred people, the vessel foundered.
I always take the precaution, when at sea, of wearing a little india-rubber apparatus round my neck, which I inflate, and in that condition it prevents my head from going under. I inflated it hastily, and I found that it answered admirably. I was tossed about violently for some hours, and when the gale at length subsided, I looked around me. No land was visible; and as I rose and fell in the sulky lopping sea, I felt that my hour was at hand. I looked eagerly towards the horizon on all sides, in the vain hope of seeing a distant sail, but I saw none; There was, however, one thing in view—a dark round thing floating on the waves a mile or so from me. I struck out for it, and I was horrified to find that it was alive! Still I approached it, reflecting that death from a sea-monster was preferable to death from starvation, and to my amazement I found that it was making straight in my direction. On approaching it, I was appalled to find that it resembled nothing so much as a human head in a floating plate; and on coming within three or four yards, I discovered that it was the head of Miss Fortescue, supported above water by a contrivance similar in character to that which I myself wore. I should add that her great fat bunchy body and (I had no doubt) her legs were still connected with it.
"Not Miss Fortescue?" said I.
"Rummy old passenger, by Gar!" said she. "What are you doing here, sar?"
"I am not here by choice. I was wrecked in the Aurora Borealis."
"Me, too!" said she.
"You!" said I, "Were you on board the Aurora?"
"—Borealis," added she. "Yes, me stewardess. How are you?"
"I am very cold, and this confounded thing has given me a crick in the neck."
"Situation damp," said she. "Try this, you queer one!"
It was a flask of brandy. She held it to my lips until I had taken a comfortable draught.
"Two shillings," said she, holding the bottle to the light to see how much I had taken.
"Here it is," said I.
"Stewardess a shilling—make three."
I determined to resist this extortion, for on that line of packets the steward's fee is included in the fare. I told her so.
"You mean old chap," said Miss Fortescue. "I give you nothing more."
I tried to look dignified and indifferent, but it was of no use. You can't look dignified when you are perpetually bobbing up and down on a lopping sea supported entirely by an India-rubber bag round the neck. Besides, I was very hungry, and she had a largo waterproof basket on her arm, so I gave her the shilling, which she bit and pocketed.
"Now then," said she, "what's to do next?"
"What have you got there?" said I.
"German sausage—cucumber—carrot—bottle barley-water—two tomatoes—a bloater—two eggs—one pound macaroni—head of endive—stick Spanish liquorice—three pounds snuff."
"What are your terms for the carrot?"
"Carrot very dear out here, you peculiar old one. Carrot a guinea."
"Hand it over."
I gave her a guinea, and ate the carrot.
"Now," said she, "I go straight on in that direction for shore. Come along, old one!"
"Never!" said I; "I will take the opposite point of the compass, and run my chance. Good bye."
And I struck out vigorously in the opposite direction.
After a day and a half's vigorous swimming, I reached the point of a low sandy shore, which seemed to stretch for miles in a direction due south, as I judged from the position of the sun. I was well satisfied to feel dry ground under my legs again, and I landed with much gratitude.
I was extremely hungry, and I walked for miles along the shore picking up mussels and periwinkles, and eating them raw. I saw no trace of a human being of any kind, and as the sun went down I began to wish myself in the sea again. Night came on and I was hungry and alone. However, I still wandered on in a listless purposeless way until I fell over something that fell across my path. To my intense joy I found, on investigation, that it was a sleeping, breathing human being. I could not tell whether it was a man or a woman, as there was no moon, and the clothes he or she wore would have suited either sex equally well. I endeavoured to awaken the figure, but in vain, so I determined to sit by his or her side until morning. Accordingly I dropped myself into a sitting posture, when, to my extreme amazement, an explosion of fire took place immediately under me! The fearful idea flashed across me that the island was a mass of slumbering fire, only waiting for accidental contact with an exciting cause to blow itself and everything for miles around into the air! On closed examination, however, I found that I had sat down upon a box of vesuvians, and one of them had exploded.
It suddenly occurred to me to use these vesuvians as a means of identifying my companion. I ignited one, but it was not a flaming vesuvian; it smouldered, and fizzed, and smelt, but afforded no assistance. I lit another and held it close to the person's nose, but it only illuminated a small circle as big as half-a-crown. I lit a third, and this time the red-hot end tumbled on to the sleeper's cheek. The sleeper started up. It was Dolly Fortescue!
I was not a bit surprised. I had brought myself to look upon Dolly as my Fate. Dolly was not a bit surprised. She looked at me—grinned—and spoke.
"That hot, you odd one!"
When morning broke we looked about us. The island we found was about twenty-five miles long, and seven broad, principally rock—no vegetation—no fresh water. The island was crescent-shaped, the two horns being twenty miles asunder. I had landed on one horn, she on the other, and we had met in the middle. The only native inhabitants were periwinkles and mussels. So we set to work to make ourselves comfortable.
The object of this narrative is not to give a detailed account of the highly ingenious manner in which we continued to live comfortably, and even luxuriously, on our island, but rather to exhibit the caprices of a determined destiny.
I detested Dolly with all my heart, and avoided her whenever it was practicable; but she paid me every attention, and, notwithstanding her unpleasant appearance, she was really valuable to me. She christened the island "Fortescue," and crowned me its monarch. My first act as king was to try her for drawing her knife on the policeman in Bembridge lock-up, and by that means breaking out of custody. She was found guilty by an impartial jury of me, and sentenced to transportation for life to the other side of the island. She went meekly and uncomplainingly, but, as she took all our cooking implements with her, I was obliged to follow.
This inconvenient life went on for thirteen years. At the expiration of that period my kingdom was visited by a missionary ship, which had driven out of her course. I signalled, and my signals were answered. A boat full of Baptist missionaries put off to us, bearing many bales of tracts for our conversion. They were very much disappointed and disgusted when they heard we were Christians, and when we added we were Protestants, they moodily returned to their boat and mechanically put to sea.
I screamed aloud in my terror at their contemplated departure without us.
Their chief explained that their mission was to convert, and that we needed no conversion.
"You are Christian," said he—"Protestant, and, no doubt. Baptist. What can we do?"
"No," said I, as a ray of hope broke through the clouds that were gathering around us, "not Baptist— Church of England!"
"Ha!" said their leader; "will you let me make a Baptist of you, if we take you with us?"
"I am open to conviction," said I.
"And your wife?" said he.
"This is NOT my wife!" said I, in a passion.
"Shocking, indeed!" said he. "Will you marry her if I take you off?"
"Yes," said Dolly, "he will marry me; you melancholy old Presbyterian!"
So he took us into the boat, and we left the island. We were married as soon as we reached England.
In a week my wife had had enough of me. The arrears of my pension amounted to something considerable, and she ran off with them. I ran after her, but I could never find her. I suppose, now that I want her, I never shall.