However, ere the Doctor could be stirred out of his boozy slumbers, and thrust into his clothes by his wife, the schoolmistress was safe in bed at her mother"s house; and the man, weak, but alive, carried triumphantly up to Heale"s door; which having been kicked open, the sailors insisted in carrying him right upstairs, and depositing him on the best spare bed.
"If you won"t come to your patients, Doctor, your patients shall come to you. Why were you asleep in your liquors, instead of looking out for poor wratches, like a Christian? You see whether his bones be broke, and gi"un his medicines proper; and then go and see after the schoolmistress; she"m worth a dozen of any man, and a thousand of you!
We"ll pay for "un like men; and if you don"t, we"ll break every bottle in your shop."
To which, what between bodily fear and real good-nature, old Heale a.s.sented; and so ended that eventful night.
CHAPTER IV.
FLOTSOM, JETSOM, AND LAGEND.
About nine o"clock the next morning, Gentleman Jan strolled into Dr.
Heale"s surgery, pipe in mouth, with an attendant satellite; for every lion, poor as well as rich,--in country as in town, must needs have his jackal.
Heale"s surgery--or, in plain English, shop--was a doleful hole enough; in such dirt and confusion as might be expected from a drunken occupant, with a practice which was only not decaying because there was no rival in the field. But monopoly made the old man, as it makes most men, all the more lazy and careless; and there was not a drug on his shelves which could be warranted to work the effect set forth in that sanguine and too trustful book, the Pharmacopoeia, which, like Mr. Pecksniff"s England, expects every man to do his duty, and is, accordingly (as the Lancet and Dr. Letheby know too well), grievously disappointed.
In this kennel of evil savours, Heale was slowly trying to poke things into something like order; and dragging out a few old drugs with a shaky hand, to see if any one would buy them, in a vague expectation that something must needs have happened to somebody the night before, which would require somewhat of his art.
And he was not disappointed. Gentleman Jan, without taking his pipe out of his mouth, dropped his huge elbows on the counter, and his black-fringed chin on his fists; took a look round the shop, as if to find something which would suit him; and then--
"I say, Doctor, gi"s some tackleum."
"Some diachylum plaster, Mr. Beer?" says Heale, meekly. "What for, then?"
"To tackle my shins. I barked "em cruel against King Arthur"s nose last night. Hard in the bone he is;--wish I was as hard."
"How much diachylum will you want, then, Mr. Beer?"
"Well, I don"t know. Let"s see!" and Jan pulls up his blue trousers, and pulls down his grey rig and furrows, and considers his broad and s.h.a.ggy shins.
"Matter of four pennies broad: two to each leg;" and then replaces his elbows, and smokes on.
"I say, Doctor, that "ere curate come out well last night. I shall go to church next Sunday."
"What," asks the satellite, "after you upset he that fashion yesterday?"
"I don"t care what you thinks;" says Jan, who, of course, bullies his jackal, like most lions: "but I goes to church. He"s a good "un, say I,--little and good, like a Welshman"s cow; and clapped me on the back when we"d got the man and the maid safe, and says,--"Well done our side, old fellow!" and stands something hot all round, what"s more, in at the Mariner"s Rest.--I say, Doctor, where"s he as we hauled ash.o.r.e?
I"ll go up and see "un."
"Not now, then, Mr. Beer; not now, then. He"s sleeping, indeed he is, like any child."
"So much the better. We wain"t be bothered with his hollering. But go up I will. Do ye let me now; I"ll be as still as a maid."
And Jan kicked off his shoes, and marched on tip-toe through the shop, while Dr. Heale, moaning professional e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, showed him the way.
The shipwrecked man was sleeping sweetly; and little was to be seen of his face, so covered was it with dark tangled curls and thick beard.
"Ah! a "Stralian digger, by the beard of him, and his red jersey,"
whispered Jan, as he bent tenderly over the poor fellow, and put his head on one side to listen to his breathing. "Beautiful he sleeps, to be sure!" said Jan: "and a tidy-looking chap, too. "Tis a pity to wake "un, poor wratch; and he, perhaps, with a sweetheart aboard, and drownded; or else all his kit lost.--Let "un sleep so long as he can: he"ll find all out soon enough, G.o.d help him!"
And big Jan stole down the stairs gently and reverently, like a true sailor; and took his diachylum, and went off to plaster his shins.
About ten minutes afterwards, Heale was made aware that his guest was awake, "by sundry grunts and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, which ended in a series of long and doleful whistles, and then broke out into a song. So he went up, and found the stranger sitting upright in bed, combing his curls with his fingers, and chaunting unto himself a cheerful ditty.
"Good morning, Doctor," quoth he, as his host entered. "Very kind of you, this. Hope I haven"t turned a better man than myself out of his bed."
"Delighted to see you so well. Very near drowned, though. We were pumping at your lungs for a full half hour."
"Ah? nothing, though, for an experienced professional man like you!"
"Hum! speaks well for your discrimination," says Heale, flattered.
"Very well-spoken young person, though his beard is a bit wild.--How did you know, then, that I was a doctor?"
"By the reverend looks of you, sir. Besides, I smelt the rhubarb and senna all the way up-stairs, and knew that I"d fallen among professional brethren;--
""Oh, then this valiant mariner, Which sailed across the sea, He came home to his own sweetheart, With his heart so full of glee;
With his heart so full of glee, sir, And his pockets full of gold, And his bag of drugget, with many a nugget, As heavy as he could hold."
"Don"t you wish yours was, Doctor?"
"Eh, eh, eh," sn.i.g.g.e.red Heale.
"Mine was last night. Now, Doctor, let"s have a gla.s.s of brandy-and-water, hot with, and an hour"s more sleep; and then kick me out, and into the workhouse. Was anybody else saved from the wreck last night?"
"n.o.body, sir," said Heale; and said "sir," because, in spite of the stranger"s rough looks, his accent,--or rather, his no-accent,--showed him that he had fallen in with a very different, and probably a very superior stamp of man to himself; in the light of which conviction (and being withal a good-natured old soul), he went down and mixed him a stiff gla.s.s of brandy-and water, answering his wife"s remonstrances by--
"The party up-stairs is a bit of a frantic party, certainly; but he is certainly a very superior party, and has the true gentleman about him, any one can see. Besides, he"s shipwrecked, as you and I may be any day; and what"s like brandy-and-water?"
"I should like to know when I"m like to be shipwrecked, or you either;" says Mrs. Heale, in a tone slightly savouring of indignation and contempt. "You think of nothing but brandy-and-water." But she let the doctor take the gla.s.s upstairs, nevertheless.
A few minutes afterwards, Frank came in, and inquired for the shipwrecked man.
"Well enough in body, sir; and rather requires your skill than mine,"
said the old time-server. "Won"t you walk up?"
So up Frank was shown.
The stranger was sitting up in bed. "Capital, your brandy is, Doctor,--Ah, sir," seeing Frank, "it is very kind of you, I am sure, to call on me! I presume you are the clergyman?"
But before Frank could answer, Heale had broken forth into loud praises of him, setting forth how the stranger owed his life entirely to his superhuman strength and courage.
""Pon my word, sir," said the stranger,--looking them both over and over, through and through, as if to settle how much of all this he was to believe,--"I am deeply indebted to you for your gallantry. I only wish it had been employed on a better subject."
"My good sir," said Frank, blushing, "you owe your life not to me. I would have helped if I could; but was not thought worthy by our sons of Anak here. Your actual preserver was a young girl."