We always are ready:
He was rocked back and forth, to the cadence of—
Steady…… boys…… Steady!......
He was released and flew through the air, to land in the box with a jarring thud, cracking his head against the side.
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again!
The hinged lids of the box were flipped closed, and he was in utter darkness.
“Bon voyage, Mr. Gibson!”
And he knew himself to be headed for the dockyard and a cell called the ‘rondy,’ or ‘rendezvous,’ where impressed men were kept under guard until they could be loaded aboard one of His Majesty’s ships and taken to sea.
Chapter Eighteen
Fanny had to wait ten days—the longest ten days of her life—before a letter, postmarked from London, arrived from her brother William, confirming that Mr. Henry Crawford, who must be ranked amongst the best of mortals, had abstracted him from Portsmouth and sped him to Hill Street, where he had dined several times with the Admiral, and in his modest opinion, he had acquitted himself well.
She was so overjoyed and filled with fine naval fervor, that she decided the weather was warm enough for little Edward to take his new toy ship out to the duck pond. As he ran about on the shore, shouting: “Hands make sail! Away aloft and loose the royals and topgallant sails! Layout and loose the flying-jib! Board your fore and main tacks!”, in her own imagination Fanny could hear and see William, resplendent in his lieutenant’s uniform and his bicorne hat, issuing the same orders from the quarter deck, and the entire crew leaping to obey him.
A following letter from Crawford himself confirmed that his uncle was much taken with the midshipman and promised to act swiftly on his behalf. Then came the exaction of the promise Fanny had made—Crawford would follow the letter in three days’ time, accompanied, for propriety’s sake, by a lady’s maid, to escort Miss Price to Everingham where she would pretend to be his wife.
Now it was for Fanny to fulfill her part of the bargain. She had fled Mansfield Park in the grey light before dawn, unable to tell anyone of what she felt; now she must look her employer in the face and tell an utter falsehood, and only her devotion to William enabled her to persevere through the guilt of it.
With all the fortitude that she could muster, Fanny unfolded the news of her matrimonial good fortune to her mistress, who, fortunately for Fanny, was of a romantic disposition and attributed Fanny’s scarlet cheeks and averted eyes to a different cause than shame. At any rate, there could be no doubt that any governess, even one so fortunately situated as Fanny, would resign her post immediately upon being solicited to become Mrs. Henry Crawford, so Mrs. Smallridge could not bring herself to feel resentment on that score.
Fanny’s gentle demeanour had recommended her to all the servants of the Smallridge household, and though they were sorry to part with her, she was regarded by the housemaids as the heroine of a fairy tale and they helped her pack her portmanteau with much giggling and some sly comments. She bestowed what little she had to give away—a spare petticoat and some collars—to Anna the nursery maid.
Fanny’s greatest regret would be in leaving little Caroline and Edward. Far from selfishly hoping that they would not love their next governess as much as herself, she hoped that whomever took her place would be as tenderly inclined toward her charges as she was. Fanny wept, indeed, during her final farewell to the children, who, when learning that she was leaving, clung to her legs and begged her not to go, but when told she was to be married, immediately clamoured to be sent a piece of the wedding cake.
She was sorry, and not a little surprised, that she received no letter from her new correspondent Mr. Gibson, in the two weeks since his visit. She had expected him to be more prompt in beginning their correspondence, but did not feel herself equal to writing the first note to him instead. She did, with some trepidation, write to Mrs. Butters, to announce the change in her circumstances. She hardly knew what to say in reference to her new husband, as she could not bring herself to write that she was the happiest woman in the world, or to enumerate his good qualities, but on the other hand, if she were only to state his income and possessions, she would undoubtedly be set down as a mercenary bride. She could only give her new address in Norfolk and express the humble hope that her benefactress might be so kind as to write her there in future. Mrs. Butters’ lively imagination, assisted perhaps by Madame Orly, could fill in the rest as they wished.
A beaming Crawford arrived as promised, in excellent spirits, as befitted a happy bridegroom. His good humour arose not only from the capital joke he was about to play on Maria and all his acquaintance but he had, quite accidentally, discovered that it was a pleasant thing to help his fellow creatures, to recognize and reward energy, activity and merit, and to change the destiny of a deserving young person, and all it had cost him was several swift trips across the country and several dinners at his uncle’s well-kept table, activities he thoroughly enjoyed for their own sakes. He was therefore in a full glow of self-congratulation when he saluted Fanny with the news: “He is made.”
She took the letters as he gave them. The first was from the Admiral to inform his nephew, in a few words, of his having succeeded in the object he had undertaken, the promotion of young Price, and enclosing two more,
