Old Fires and Profitable Ghosts

about Ardevora, and making a study of us; and I know you can read, because I've seen you doing it down to the Institute. But sometimes, when I ask

used to call him "Calves-infront," because of his legs being put on in an unusual manner, which made him walk slow all his days, and that's another part of the story. And Billy Bosistow, or Uncle Billy, was my father's father'

and walking the paths of repute for eleven years with his funny-shaped calves, got himself elected Mayor of the Borough. You may suppose it was a proud day for him. In those times the borough used to pay the mayor a hundred p

gh down our side of the street, and my mother holding me tight as we leaned out, for I was just rising five, and extraordinary heavy in the head. And out upon the steps of the Town Hall stepped Landl

istow! He was a ragged old scarecrow, turned a bit grey and lean with iniquitous living, but not more than half-drunk; and he stepped into the middle of

justice, love mercy, and w

and speaking vicious. And Uncle Billy was collared and marched off between tw

he stocks than off he went to Lawyer Mennear, who was a young man then just set up in practice, and as keen for a job as a

at there coin. His heart's in the right place, which is more'n can be said for his calves. Two-pennyworth of gin, please, your Worship." The Mayor's dignity wouldn't let him serve it, so, the first day, he called his wife down. Mrs. Cummins began by trying argument. "William," she said, "the Lord knows you wouldn't have this money if there was justice in England. But got it you have, and now be a sensible man and put it by for a rainy day." "Mrs. Mayor," answers Billy, slow and vicious, "if there was any chance of presentin' you with a silver cradle, I'd save it up and subscribe." After that there was nothing more to say. It hurt the poor soul terrible, and she went u

appearances of Billy, and they spoiled his term of office, I do believe. But all the same he turned out a very passable

soners together and spent ten years in captivity to the French, and come home aboard the same ship like brothers. The bigger the love the bigge

Bay, and good seamen the both, though not a bit alike in looks and ways. Abe, the elder by a year, was a bit slow and heavy on his pins; given to reading, too, though he seemed to take it up for peace and quietness more than for any show he made of his learning. Bill was smarter altoge

m fit. There never was such a pair since David and Jonathan, and I believe 'twas partly this that kept them from running after girls. So far as I can see, the most of the lads begin at seventeen; b

mother's leave to twist it in plaits for the Christmas courants. And Abe and Billy each knew the other's secret almost b

ohns would be wise enough to choose - and then let the best man win! No bad blood afterwards, and meanwhile no more talk than necessary - they shook hands upon that. That Janu

the 25th (a Sunday) it blew hard from north to west, and she let go sheet anchor. Next day the weather moderated a bit, and, heaving up her sheet anchor, she rode to her best bower. On the Tuesday, the wind havin

of the fleet, which numbered over twenty sail of merchantmen; and, being a sluggard in a

elman took a glance over his shoulder, and there she was, creeping up close astern. His call fetched up Captain Wilcox, who ran aft and hailed, but got no reply. And so she came on, until, sheering close up under the Hand and Glove's port quarter, she was able to heave a grapnel on board and throw twenty well-armed Johnnies into the old brig. The Englishmen - seven in all, and taken unprepared - were soon dri

aret, letter of marque of London, bound from Zante, laden with currants - to a lieutenant and a guard of foot soldiers. Not a man of them knew where they were bound. They set out through a main pretty country, where the wheat stood nearabouts knee-high, but the roads were heavy after the spring rains. Each man had seven shillings in his pocket, given him at parting by the captain of his vessel - the three captains had been left behind at Dieppe - and on they trudged for just a fortnight on an allowan

d at the very top of the rock, on the edge of a cliff that dropped a clean 300 feet to the river: not at all a pretty place to get clear of, and none so cheerful to live in on a day's allowance of one pound of brown bread, half a pound of bullock's offal, three-halfpence in money (paid weekly, and the most of it deducted for prison repairs, if you please!), and now and then a

matter to him that he was shut up, so long as he could sit in a corner and read about other folks travelling. In the second year of their captivity an English clergyman, a Mr. Wolfe, came to Jivvy, and got leave from the Commandant to fit up part of the prison granary for a place of worship and preach to the prisoners. It had a good effect on the men in ge

nd he'd wake out of that like a man dazed, sitting in a corner and brooding for days together. What he brooded on, of course, was means of escape. At first, like every other prisoner in Jivvy, he had kept himself cheerful with hopes of exchange, but it seemed the folks home in Ardevora had given up trying for a release, or else letters never reached them. And yet they must have known something of the case their poor kinsme

fter year went by and his wits broke themselves on a stone wall, he grew into a very different man from the handy lad the Johnnies had ta

rs stopped them, insisting that they were Irish and not Americans, and must be enlisted to serve with Bonaparty's army in Spain. The prisoners to a man refused to hear of it, and the end was they were marched back to prison in disgrace, and, to cap everything, had their English allowance stopped on pretence that they had been in the French service. Yet this brought him a second chance, for being no

m up for a fortnight in a room by themselves, being fearful that such bad characters would contaminate the other prisoners. This room was an upstairs one in a building on the edge of the ramparts, and after a few nights they broke through the ceiling into an empty chamber, which ha

lace they had to cross a river, and Billy being, like the most of our fishermen, no swimmer, his mates stuck him on a hurdle and pushed him over while they swam beh

re was Bosistow following it up for freedom - with the upshot that he made the coast and was taken like a lamb in the attempt to hire a passage, and marched in irons from one jail to another, and then clean back the whole length

fifty miles west-sou'-west for Tours, on the Loire river. I've figured it out on the map, and even that is enough to make a man feel sore in his feet. But what made Bosistow glad at the time, and vicious after, was that on his way he fell in with a draft of prisoners, and, among them, with Abe Cummins, who, so to say, had reached the same place by walking a tenth part of the distance. And, what's more, though a man cou

day," answ

e pondering to himself. "She'll be a w

nty-seven,"

be. "I've been thinkin

out of this here mess, and Selina hasn't gone and taken a husband. Play fair, leave it to the maid, and

ather sly-like: "And s'posin' you're the lucky on

lse at the shoe-mending. I learnt a litt

d teach navigation. Back in Ardevora I can make betwee

been busy in my way, too, but seemin' to me the only trade I've learned is prison

Abe; "that is if your

that," answers Billy

it that night, and no girl satisfied unless she had an Englishman for a partner. But the next day it all turned out to be lies, and off they were marched again. To be short, 'twasn't till the end of April that they came to the river opposite Bordeaux, and were taken in charge by English red-coats, who told them they were free men. On the 28th of that month Abe and Billy,

owing fresh - the Suffolk sighted land, making out St. Michael's Mount; and fetching up to Mousehole Is

ide. Not a word had been said between them on the matter that lay closest to their minds, but while they waited Billy fe

a porpoise. A heavier lurch than ordinary sent her main channels grinding down on the mackerel

"if I trust myself in a boat that'll

the mizzen lug stowed he took a run past the officer and jumped aboard, with two fellows close on his heels - one a Penzance fellow whose name I've forgot, and the t'other a chap from Ludgvan, Harry Cornish by name. I reckon the sight of the old shores just made them mazed as sheep, and like sheep they followed his lead. The offi

only a short way to trudge, said "No, thank'ee," and started for home with a small crowd after him. But Bosistow and Cornish agreed 'twould be more neighbourly to accept, and, to tell the truth, they didn't quite know how to behave with so many eyes upon them. Cornish had on a soldier's red j

d called them fine fellows, and mixed them two more glasses while they talked; and when the time

that from Mousehole to Penzance it was a regular procession. And then they had to go to the hotel and tell the whole story over

s Nancledrea, which was a goodish bit out of Cornish's road to Ludgvan. By the time they reached Nancledrea Billy was shedding tears and begging Cornish to come along to Ardevora. "I'll make a man of 'ee there," he promised: "

smoking solemn, and an upstanding woman in a black gown attending on them

a pot of ale all round, and let 'em drink to two Cornish boys home fro

ay, Billy was boasting ahead for all he was worth, and the company with their mouth

y-diggin' slowheads -I ben't. I've broke out of prison three times, and now -" He nodded at the company, whose faces by this time he couldn't very well pick out of a heap -"do any of 'ee know a maid

n' to me," answered up the landl

f his life in slavery while you've been diggin' taties?" I can't tell you why potatoes ran so much in the poor fellow's head; but they did, and he seemed to see the hoeing of them almost

eat dignity which was only spoiled by his mistaking the shadow across the doorway for a raised step. He didn't forget to slam

mind on the road. But by-and-by his brain cleared a bit, and when he reached the hill over Ardevora, and saw the

law, though I do love every stone of her streets. But there's one there that didn' forget me in my captivity, and won't despise me in these here rags. I wish I'd seen Abe's f

e on them shining just so on their way home on Saturday nights from Bessie's Cove. Poor old mate! - first of all he pictured Abe's chap-fallen face, and chuckled; the

d French cloak out of his knapsack and wrapped himself in it a

on every fine morning since he'd left Ardevora. And somehow, though he had dropped asleep in a puzzle of mind, he woke up with not a doubt to trouble hi

by-and-by he came in sight of Nancledrea and the inn he'd left in such a hurry over night. And w

arth did you come

ween four and five th

et you, anyway, for - tell 'ee the truth

s Abe, like o

end by the button-hole -"strickly speakin' I'd the right on my side. 'Let the best man win' was our agreement. But you needn' to fret yourself: I ben't the man to take an advantage of an old friend, fair th

looked up, studying the

mind to know you've played so fair. For man

illy, "man and boy, i

Johns," Abe went on, "th

tell me s

sband that's dead. She

have 'ee k

re public. What's more, her name isn't going to be Selina Widlake, but Selina Cummins. We'

, and, coming back, stuck his hands in his

at was too honou

it turns out, 'twouldn't have made no difference. For she see'd you last evenin', and she was tellin' m

ou know why Billy Bosistow and Abe Cummins could never bear the sight of each other from