Chapter XIII.
At length the ship anchored off Deal, and the shores of that beloved England, so long desired, were visible, and there was no time lost in hastening to them. As Mr. Crusoe had been now more than a year and a half without any intelligence of his wife and daughter (his voyage in search of Charles rendering it impossible that he should receive letters), he experienced again nearly the same emotions which affected him when he reached the desolate island, except in the satisfaction of knowing, that his beloved wife was surrounded by friends, and, whether living or dead, had been blessed by those consolations, of which his son was so long deprived.
Not knowing how far Mrs. Crusoe had been informed of the jeopardy of her son, or whether she remained in ignorance of an event which would of course render his long absence and her own want of letters the more distressing, Mr. Crusoe thought it advisable to see that lady and her husband in the first place, to whom he had assigned the delicate task of acquainting her, when he was first at the Cape. He knew that she resided at Brompton, and that the gentleman, Captain Coventry, could be heard of at the Clarendon Hotel; and as his first duty was to call at the East India House, he determined to proceed thence towards that dear home, where his heart was already hovering, in joy and fear, and learn on the road, if possible, the present situation of his lady, and then announce his arrival to her.
In consequence, they took a friendly leave of their fellow-passengers, and travelling post, soon arrived in London. Before reaching the India House, Charles had been absolutely surprised at the number of streets and houses; and in going thence all the way up to Piccadilly, it may be supposed how much he was astonished. When he saw London, as he approached it from Blackheath, he called it a forest of houses, and which his memory furnished him with no parallel; but yet his mind was not impressed by it nearly in the same way that it appeared to be, when such a multitude of his fellow-creatures actually surrounded him, as are always seen traversing the streets of the metropolis. Under the surprise of one party, and the anxiety of the other, both remained equally silent, until they reached the hotel, and learnt that Captain Coventry was then residing with his family in Brompton, in a house, as it appeared, very near to that taken by Mrs. Crusoe; so that they could not doubt receiving every information respecting her from him; and Mr. Crusoe requested the postillions to drive thither as quick as possible.
Sambo, who had been seated on the box, and exceedingly delighted with all he saw in the latter part of the drive (for the former confusion rather frightened him), seized the momentary stoppage to exclaim—"Ah! Misser Sharly, him city here quike differ to Saintee Paul; here mens more thick than trees; plenty beefs, plenty pies, no thunder here, but coachee; no green serpent here, Misser Sharly." Mr. Crusoe shook his head, and half smiled at the last remark, remembering there were snares in London, if not serpents; but his heart was too full to speak; besides, in addition to the many sounds of the streets, the parrot added his voice, for having caught the word captain, when they stopped, he continued to cry, "Captain Gordon, ahoy!" till they arrived at Captain Coventry's door. It so happened, that the master of the house reached it at the same moment, and heartily welcomed Mr. Crusoe, who was so agitated, he could not make the very inquiries which faltered on his tongue; but before he had time to speak, Captain Coventry said—"You see I have got this evening's Courier in my hand; it announces the arrival of the Asia, and adds, 'We understand the names of Wilmington, Crusoe, Sneyd, &c.; are among the passengers;' so I ran to Mrs. Crusoe that moment with the news, and also entreated her and Emily to come and dine with us, that we might talk about you together: but, bless my life, this must be your son!" "Yes sir," said Sambo, anxious to be recognised as a former acquaintance, "him be him fader own son; Sambo find him again on desert island." "My dear boy!" said the warm-hearted captain, clasping him to his breast, "I am more rejoiced to see you, than I have time to tell you; but come up stairs this moment; Mrs. Coventry must hide you somewhere; your poor mother is at this time in deep mourning for you, and in delicate health; this joy must not be given too suddenly." When Captain Coventry had mentioned the words already related, which assured Mr. Crusoe of the safety of his dear wife and daughter, he had involuntarily flung himself on a chair in the hall, overpowered with gratitude and joy, but he now hastened into the drawing-room, where he found Mrs. Coventry, who gave him a sincere welcome, and Charles likewise. On learning the safety of the latter, she exceedingly lamented that dear Mrs. Crusoe had ever been led to doubt it, as it had greatly affected her health, and rendered her much more uneasy about her husband, than she would otherwise have been.
"I did all for the best," cried Captain Coventry, "I had not the slightest doubt in my own mind that the poor boy had been dead months before, when Mr. Crusoe set out to seek him; and as I received letters from Ceylon, in which his father himself, owing to the long delay, said he had given up all hopes of his existence, I thought it my duty to prepare my poor friend here and her daughter for the truth, especially as it was the only proper way of accounting for the protracted absence of her husband. I did not expect that you would arrive so soon by six weeks, so I told her about two months since, trusting, that by the time of your arrival, time would so far have softened her sorrow (great as it was), that she might not afflict you on your meeting by speaking of it, and renewing the grievous state of feeling under which I had seen you suffer; both myself and my wife have done our best to comfort her, and her resignation to Heaven has done more; but she is yet in much affliction." Just then a knock was heard at the door—"Here she comes," said Mrs. Coventry; "I well know her mind is in such a flutter with the news, she can rest nowhere. Go down, my dear, and tell her of Mr. Crusoe's arrival; I will take Charles into my dressing-room." Pursuant to this arrangement, in a few minutes the affectionate and long parted couple were in each other's arms; and little Emily, now a tall, lovely girl of thirteen, claimed the parental kiss. Tears mingled with their caresses, but Mrs. Crusoe struggled to suppress all symptoms of that sorrow for their mutual loss, which was still uppermost in her mind, and did not revert to any thing which could damp the evident unmingled joy of her husband. When they had sat together alone a little time, Mr. Crusoe inquired after their friends and relations.
"All are well," said Mrs. Crusoe; "but I have lost one, my great-uncle, Mr. Robinson, of Lincolnshire; he was a very old man, and I have never seen him since my childhood, so that I cannot call him a loss." "You were his nearest relation, Emily, though a distant one; and he ought to have left you something handsome, for he was very rich: but never mind, my love—we can do without it, thank God." These words entirely overcame the poor mother, who now burst into tears, and was unable to speak, whilst Emily (weeping also) replied to her father—"If my poor brother had lived, papa, he was to have had all Mr. Robinson's estate, on adding the name of Robinson to his own. If mamma has no son, the estate goes to a still more distant relation; but the old gentleman has been very good to me." "Then we are all much obliged to him, my dear, and I will get a new black coat to-morrow; you are already in mourning, I perceive." "Not for him, poor man—oh, no, not for him," cried the agitated mother. "Emily, my dearest Emily, I cannot bear to see you thus, knowing, as I do, the source of your sorrows, and aware, as I am, that you ought not to weep." "Perhaps you think that because I have lost my poor Charles so long, I have forgotten him; but indeed that is not the case: he is now in my memory as fresh as ever. I well remember, just before I set sail for England, that he was wishing one morning to be like Robinson Crusoe, and it was that recollection which overcame me." "It was indeed too likely to do so, and I am not sorry to have an opportunity thus offered, to talk with you about our beloved boy; but I fear you have not the fortitude to hear me." "Oh! yes, I have; I even wish to hear all the particulars of his death." "Those I cannot give you, for I am fully persuaded that he is not dead, my dear." "Not dead! then he must have been carried away, and is in a state of slavery. Tell me in a moment why you think he still lives?" "Be calm then, and I will give you my reasons; I have seen him living, and even spoken to him; he is in a state of captivity at this moment, I grant, Emily; but he is in health." "He is here—here!" cried the mother, sinking on her knees, and holding up her hands to Heaven; "bring him to my arms this instant." "I did not promise you this, Emily," cried Mr. Crusoe, terrified by her pale, wild looks, and seeking how to repress the emotion he had awakened. "I know he is here, for you, Charles, would never leave your son a captive in a foreign land. No, he is here—bring me to him, and I will be calm!" At this moment, Mrs. Coventry, alarmed by the loud exclamation of her friend, rushed into the room, and earnestly besought her to be calm, adding an indirect insinuation that Charles's health would suffer. On this she conceived the idea, that he was perhaps only restored to her, that he might die with her; and the contending fear so far damped her joy, as to render it bearable. In a short time she had the satisfaction to hold him in her arms, to gaze on him again, recal his features and his voice, and by degrees assure herself, that allowing for the darkness of his complexion, and his extraordinary growth, there was nothing alarming in his appearance.
Emily thought there was every thing admirable in it; she walked round him again and again, brushed up his hair with her fingers, and called him "brother," at every word, delighted with the acquisition she had made, and anticipating, from his future love, more happiness than she had ever known since the day when they were parted. For some time, poor Charles, who was almost equally affected with his mother (since the sight of her brought vividly to his remembrance all his own period of sufferings), could scarcely speak; but when he was become a little more familiar with the circle, he found himself so happy, that he could not contain the overflowing of his thankfulness; and he retired to the room he had quitted, that he might, unseen, pour out his full heart to God, in prayer and praise.
Need we tell our young readers with what joy Charles presented his collection of shells and feathers to his sister, thus proving, that she had been held dear, at a time when he had little hope of ever shewing his affection; it will be readily believed, that they were thought the most beautiful that were ever beheld; yet that the history attached to all his movements, at that eventful time, was still more interesting than his present.
"And what have you got for me, Charles?" said Mrs. Crusoe.
"To you, dear mamma, I give my parrot, the most valuable possession certainly that I ever had, or ever shall have, and which I would part with to no other person. I know you will be kind to it for my sake. I am also in possession of many very pretty things, proper for the dress of ladies; but whether they may be called mine, I have doubts." "Let us see them, by all means," was the cry; and as Charles had really got one of the shawls with him, it was immediately brought up stairs by Sambo, whom his good lady had already seen and welcomed. The silk shawl already mentioned, which was of a very singular pattern, was immediately spread out, on which Captain Coventry said—"That is the very shawl I bought for you, my dear, at Benares; I could know it from a thousand, and which we all thought was lost, through the carelessness of Said, along with the rest of your finery." "I put it," said Mrs. Coventry, "myself in the bottom of a box, along with one much more valuable, though less showy, together with gold and silver muslin, ostrich feathers, and many other things." "All which I can restore you, except the shoes, which I wore out, and the handkerchiefs, for which I had a thousand uses. I have also made up your furs, but I do not think they are much injured." "You are a sad rogue, I find," said Mrs. Coventry, laughing. "Are you certain you did not leave any of my things at the India House, for I find you went there the first thing?" "I am quite certain that I did; for I took some of your skins to pack up safely those important papers which belonged to Captain Gordon, and which it was our first duty to deposit safely there, till we can place them in the hands of his widowed daughter." "I shall then get all my property back, for that lady married a cousin of mine; she is the mother of three little children, and would have been before this time in great distress, if my dear Coventry had not assisted her; but now she will probably be rendered comfortable for life, her poor children well educated, and her friends easy for them all." Charles now went out to bring his parrot, which entered, sitting on his shoulder and bawling, "Never despair my dear boy," to the great delight of Emily and the Captain. It would not at first be persuaded to leave its master for any person but Sambo; and Mr. Crusoe observed, that he feared Poll would prove rather a troublesome present, but he was better than none; but he did not remember that Charles had given him any thing.
"Oh! fie, papa—ever since the day my mother left us in India, your kindness and daily attention to my comfort, said continually, 'my son, give me thy heart,' and you must know and feel, that you had my whole heart." "Indeed I do, my boy; and I rejoice in the gift, not only for my own happiness in you now, but from the persuasion that your confidence in me, at the most trying time in your eventful little history, was the reason why your spirits were supported under such severe distress, and that you were enabled to recollect my advice on many points, to your advantage." "Undoubtedly it was, papa; but when I had the power of recollecting things, I was also a little indebted to my old friend, Robinson Crusoe, for my exertions and contrivances. I said nothing about him on board, for fear of their jokes, but among friends, I wish to acknowledge my obligations to poor Robinson." "So you ought, my dear, both in the old quarter and a new one, for it is now time to tell you, that you are likely, by and by, to add that name to your own, together with a handsome estate; and I think we must all own, that no boy of your age ever had more fairly earned a right to be called 'Robinson Crusoe.'" THE END.
