A Drake by George!

  Produced by Camilo Bernard, Christine Bell and Marc D'Hoogheat https://www.freeliterature.org (From images generouslymade available by the Internet Archive)

  A Drake By George!

  By

  John Trevena

  New York

  Alfred A Knopf

  MCMXVI

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I. SOMETHING ABOUT THE FAMILY II. EXHIBITION DAY AT WINDWARD HOUSE III. THE CAPTAIN MAKES HISTORY IV. CHANGES IN THE ESTABLISHMENT V. GEORGE TACKLES THE LABOUR PROBLEM VI. HONOURABLE INTENTIONS VII. SCANDAL AND EXPOSURE VIII. A TANGLED INHERITANCE IX. A SUBTLE SINNER'S SUCCESS X. THE FIRST PERSON SINGULAR PARAMOUNT XI. SOME LEADING INCIDENTS XII. A SPLENDID BARGAIN XIII. WASPS AND OTHER WORRIES XIV. THE GRABBERS XV. A NEW HOUSE AND THE SAME OLD FURNITURE XVI. GEORGE TAKES CONTROL XVII. PLOUGHING THE GROUND XVIII. SOWING THE SEED XIX. REAPING THE HARVEST XX. THE GLEANERS

  CHAPTER I

  SOMETHING ABOUT THE FAMILY

  Rumour, introducing the newcomer as a celebrity, began to fly aboutimmediately Captain Drake appeared upon the scene and distinguishedhimself not only by blocking the single narrow street of Highfield witha presence weighing two hundred and fifty pounds, but by addressingpassing men, women, and children in a voice which sounded from thechurch at the top of the hill to the post office at the bottom; top,middle, and bottom being comparative terms when applied to the greathills of Highfield. Rumour provoked excitement when it suggested legalinfluences were at work about a couple of old semi-detached cottagesbelonging to an absentee landlord. The man who found it necessary, onaccount of his bulk and stentorian voice, to acquire two cottages wouldhave plenty of money; and wealth was much the shortest cut to fame thatHighfield knew of. Rumour passed into a condition almost hysterical whenbuilders arrived, demolished the two old cottages, erected a gabledvilla of suburban type, and set up against the street a massivenoticeboard, which looked as if it had been designed for some importantrailway station; but instead of yielding such information as "MazeworthyJunction. Change for the Asylum," it bore the inscription, "WindwardHouse. Captain Francis Drake, Master."

  Finally, three vanloads of furniture were dragged up the hill, and thefamily arrived to take possession of the parish; for it became at onceevident that Captain Drake regarded himself as "old man" of the place,the vicar as his sky pilot, and the male inhabitants as crushers,jollies, flatfeet, and shellbacks, all of whom were amenable to hisdiscipline.

  In any case the Captain was respected by everybody, whether they had theprivilege of knowing him or not--he was one of those men who had to beknown thoroughly and at once--when those vanloads of furniture drew upalongside Windward House. Such fumed oak had never been seen before inHighfield. There were vases from China, ivory images from India, livingtrees of the forest in flower-pots from Japan, with curiosities from allcorners of the earth. There was also a large cage full of cats, anothercage of monkeys, yet another of parrots, and a giant tortoise, itscarapace completely covered with newspaper cuttings relating to thenumerous voyages of the old sailor who, in hours of leisure, hadcommitted to the Press columns of adventures wherein fiction was oncemore proved to be far more interesting and instructive than truth. Birdsand beasts are not usually classed as furniture, but they were announcedas such in "the inventory of my possessions" duly posted upon thenoticeboard by the worthy Captain whose capacity for self-advertisementwas much too great for a little country parish.

  The first visitor to step aboard Windward House was the Dismal Gibcat,and he came as usual with a scowl and a grievance. The Dismal Gibcatoccupied a house about a mile from the village in the company of a wifewho was more dismal than himself; he called himself a gentleman inreduced circumstances, and could spell the word embarrassed with ease;he ruled the parish with his scowl, and spent all the money he could getin enjoying lawsuits with his neighbours. This gentleman inquired forMister Drake with a fearful emphasis, and received the information thatthe Admiral was shaving. But a door at the top of the stairs stood open,and a moment later the master himself appeared in a state of fury, halfclothed and shouting tremendously, "Captain, you rascal! Captain FrancisDrake, late of the Mercantile Marine, descendant of the immortalAdmiral, author of 'Tortoises: and how to treat them,' 'Comments onCats,' part owner of the sailing ship _Topper_, now unfortunately lyingat the bottom of the Persian Gulf. Captain Francis Drake, always at theservice of the Admiralty, but never at the beck and call of geese andasses."

  "Willie, dear, you knew your name never was really Francis," called thetroubled voice of Mrs. Drake from somewhere in the parlour.

  "Stand off the bridge, Maria. Don't argue with your superior officer,"roared the Captain.

  He carried a shaving brush which might have been mistaken for a mop;and, as he brandished it, flakes of lather fell around like surf from atidal wave. His immense face resembled the Bay of Biscay in a gale; darkand lowering above, masses of foam below. Removing the field of stubblewas a tempestuous operation at the best of times: members of the crewkept apart from the quarterdeck, where the Captain gasped and struggled,scattering lather upon pictures, cats, and furniture. The Dismal Gibcatcould not have pronounced his insult at a more unfavourable moment.

  "I have called to tell you that board must be removed," he said rathernervously; for he had begun to realize that his scowl was directedagainst an individual who was not going to be reduced by it.

  "You give sailing orders to me--tell me to hoist Blue Peter on my board!How long have you been harbour-master?" the Captain shouted as hecrashed downstairs.

  "We are proud of our scenery," continued the Dismal Gibcat. "That boardis an eyesore. It can be seen a mile away. It completely destroys thelocal amenities, and, in my capacity as Chairman of the Parish Council,I advise you to remove it at once."

  "Local amenities are pretty little things, but they aren't half as goodas Englishmen's rights. It's a pity you didn't make a few inquiriesabout Captain Francis Drake, at places where's he's known, before youstarted on this little voyage of piracy. If you had found out somethingabout him, and his way with mutineers, you might ha' tossed up, heads Idon't go, tails I stay away. It's no use trying to scare me with rockswhat aren't marked upon the chart. I've cast anchor here, I've paid myharbour dues. I've got notions about landscape what perhaps don't agreewith yours; but I reckon most passengers would rather find a moorageopposite my signal station than sail half a knot with a face like yours.You can drop overboard, Mister Jolly Roger--and take my local amenitywith you!"

  So saying the Captain plunged his shaving brush full into the face ofthe Dismal Gibcat and drove him discomfited from the premises. The sameevening he posted the following notice:

  "Captain Francis Drake will be pleased to receive the names of allparishioners who desire him to remove this board, in order that he mayattend to each grievance personally. He begs to notify friends andneighbours that the parrots are shedding their feathers just now, alsothat he possesses a barrel of tar. _Verbum sap._, and God save theKing!" The hint was sufficient, for the Dismal Gibcat had been seen uponthe road with his scowl so thoroughly lathered that it looked almostlike a grin. Not a complaint was received. Indeed the vicar went so faras to declare the noticeboard was a distinct acquisition to Highfield.

  Such was the beginning of the absolute monarchy of Captain WilliamDrake. He dethroned the Dismal Gibcat from his chairmanship andconverted the Parish Council into a monologue. He became vicar'schurchwarden, and kept the key of the church in his pocket. Heintroduced a flower show, at which only vegetables were shown, judgedthe exhibits himself with a tape measure, and awarded prizes accordingto length and circumference. He collected money for the building of aParish Hall, where the inhabitants might
assemble upon winter evenings,to drink gassy liquors and listen to his yarns. His voice stormedcontinually. Even when darkness had fallen, a muffled roar sounded fromWindward House, where Captain Drake would be reading the newspaperaloud, denouncing every form of government, and declaring that nothingsailed between the British Empire and disaster except the ships of themercantile marine. And during the night his snores sounded like distanttraffic, except when unable to sleep; and then he would sit up in bedand sing hymns for those at sea, until cattle ran about the fields, andcocks began to crow, and dogs set up a howl in every farmyard.

  His untruthfulness, which harmed nobody, was due entirely to a powerfulimagination. Voice and body, alike tremendous, made him conceited tosuch an extent that, had he been ushered into the presence of anysovereign, except the King of England--whom he regarded as an equal--hewould perhaps have given Majesty permission to be seated, and might evenhave encouraged him to speak with a certain amount of familiarity. Afterhaving commanded a ship for a number of years, he was intolerant of eventhe mildest form of opposition; while the knowledge that he hadsucceeded in this life supplied him with an extra personality ofself-confidence.

  His tyranny was quite a good thing for Highfield. It caused theinhabitants to remember--and some to discover--there were other placeson the map no less important. It was responsible for certainimprovements, such as the introduction of telegrams and an evening post.But it did not succeed in impressing upon the people the fairly obviousfact that some other country would in time become so jealous of theirterritory as to lay siege to the church, general store, and post office,with the idea of breaking open poor-box and till, and escaping withloose cash and stamps; for Highfield, being in the middle of Devonshire,therefore at the centre of the universe, evinced a fine contempt forforeign countries. Captain Drake was fond of his joke, but he simplymade a braying ass of himself when he declared other countries besideEngland possessed a mighty army, although the same listeners were wellable to accept the statement that he had once adopted a mermaid.

  On this single matter the Captain was a pessimist; and, as he believedin appealing to the eye when the appeal to the ear failed, he preparedand set up another noticeboard, upon which he had painted in largeletters with his own hand, "The enemy will be in Highfield tomorrow;"and he whipped small boys who threw stones at it; and, when theirparents grumbled, he threatened to whip them too. The mild vicarentirely lost his temper upon this occasion, and told the Captainplainly he was stirring up evil passions in the parish and corruptingthe morals of the young.

  "That board may tell a lie for a good many years; but it will speak thetruth at last," came the answer.

  The family at Windward House consisted of the Captain and his wife,their nephew George, with the two servants, Kezia and Bessie. Mrs. Drakewas a lady of substance, having spent by far the greater part of herlife in a position which, when not recumbent, had been sedentary: whentravelling with her husband the compartment they occupied had asingularly crowded appearance. She and the Captain were devoted to eachother, in spite of the fact that he had not fallen in love with heruntil he had made sure she did possess a comfortable income, even thoughit was derived from trust funds in which she enjoyed a life interestonly.

  "You commenced, my love, as the loadstone of my career," remarked theCaptain upon the occasion of their silver wedding, "and have continuedas the pole star of my existence."

  Having no children, they adopted the son of the Captain's youngerbrother, who had died at an early age, after having attempted almostevery form of livelihood, and trying none which did not make him poorer.George was apparently making it his business in life to defeat thisrecord. He had occupied thirty years in seeking to discover the mostrestful method of leaning against a wall, and the least embarrassingmanner of keeping the hands at ease within his trouser pockets. He hadbeen sent to school, but ran away. He had been exiled to Canada, but hadreturned as a stowaway. He had been placed in business, but dismissedat the end of a week. Mrs. Drake often wondered why George had beencreated. Most human pegs can find a hole somewhere, but George wasneither square nor round; and shapeless holes are somehow not provided.

  Kezia had entered Mrs. Drake's service at a very early age, and wasdetermined upon remaining with the family until the end. She knewnothing about herself, except that she was a respectable person andbelonged to the Church of England. She did not know her age, butbelieved she had been born in Exeter since the building of thecathedral; for she recalled, as her earliest experience, falling uponher face beside the west front of that building on a cold winter's day,and being picked up by no less a person than the Dean, who had made ajoke about the ungodly and slippery places, which was published in alocal paper, quoted in the Press of the country as a witticism of theDuke of Wellington, and translated into most of the European languagesin consequence. At all events, Kezia had belonged to the Church ofEngland ever since. She was not sure of her Christian name, but feltcertain it was Biblical, and rather fancied, "'twur one of Job's youngladies;" and she did not oppose Mrs. Drake's preference for Kezia. Nordid she know her surname, but had an idea her father had been called Tomby his wives, of whom he had two; and, as she could remember two Mrs.Toms, it seemed probable that the first had been her mother. She hadalways got along very nicely without a surname, which was not nearly sonecessary to a woman as to a man: she really did not want one, unlessthe man who belonged to it had a voice and figure like her dear admiral.She had looked with enthusiasm upon that massive form, and had listenedin admiration to that mighty voice, until she felt that an ordinary manwith a normal voice would quickly make her dull and peevish.

  Bessie had not yet become a person of importance. She was quite young,fairly good looking, and still growing, which was alarming since she wasalready out of proportion with the doors of Windward House. Neither shenor her master made a dignified entry into the parlour; for Bessie hadto stoop, while the Captain was forced to turn sideways. Mrs. Drake justfitted when nobody flustered her. Bessie knew the whole history ofherself and family; and was proud of the fact that her father owned afishing smack, while both her brothers would have entered the Navy hadthey not suffered from an incurable tendency to reject rations at thefirst rolling of the ship.

  Now that the Captain was settled in the haven of Highfield, he hadsolved all his difficulties except the one problem of finding a place inthe world for George. About twice a week he created a thunderstormabout his nephew, who remained in the attitude of an admiring listeneruntil the tempest of tangled metaphor concerning starvation ahead,rudderless vessels, and vagabonds begging their bread, had died awayalong the village street; and then the cunning rascal would either placea trembling hand to his forehead declaring he had not much longer tolive, or shuffle towards the door with the announcement that it mightjust as well happen at once, and drowning was the best way he couldthink of, as he could not afford to purchase fire-arms or poison;besides, a watery grave was the proper ending for a Drake. He generallyadded it was the man whom he venerated, the man who was content toremain in a humble position when he should have been First Lord of theAdmiralty, the man who was the British Empire's principal asset--hisuncle--who had driven him to this. Then the Captain, who was asoft-hearted old simpleton where his family was concerned, would takeGeorge by the shoulders, press him into a chair, give him money to buytobacco which might ease his nerves, beg for his forgiveness, and behavelike a beneficent Providence until wind and weather were favourable forthe next thunderstorm.

  As a matter of fact, the Captain loved his nephew, who supported hisopinions and flattered him continually. Besides, George was fond ofcats, and respected the monkeys, and would frequently take the tortoisefor a stroll. Mrs. Drake, on the other hand, made no secret of hercontempt for an able-bodied man who seemed to regard Windward House asan hotel where he could receive board and lodging without payment. Shereminded George constantly she had no money to leave, and when she wasgone he would find himself dependent upon charity; but George would begher not to worry, as he h
ad no intention of outliving anyone who was sogood to him. Mrs. Drake then stated that, in her opinion, he would in afuture state of existence be separated from his uncle and herself, andfor that alone he ought to feel ashamed. And George admitted he wasashamed, but even an ever present sense of shame was better, he thought,than a separation from his uncle and aunt in this life.

  Mrs. Drake had a good reason for not insisting upon George's departure.Doctors had warned her that the Captain's immense size was not a healthysymptom: upon his last voyage he had been discovered unconscious in hiscabin; and although he declared subsequently this was nothing more thana fit of exhaustion easily to be explained by his first mate's habit ofanswering back, it was nevertheless accepted as a danger signal whichmade retirement necessary. Even the unprofitable George might be ofservice should a similar fit of exhaustion seize upon the Captain in hishouse.