“Though the island on which we found ourselves was not large in extant, the journey to the palace of King Tompopo lasted the better part of three days, for the brothers paused along the way to hunt wild boar and other animals, and as I was tolerably skilled at archery, they invited me to join them in their sport, and in this fashion we obtained so much fresh meat, my faithful Ajax could scarcely manage to bear up under the weight of it all, as we traversed through the narrow mountain trails and steep inclines which formed the interior of the island...”
As the family neared their destination, Fanny noticed Susan was clutching her cloak tightly about her, so no sliver of the offending dress might be seen.
“Your cheeks are so pink and rosy,” whispered Fanny. “You look very well today, indeed.”
“...The king’s subjects rejoiced to see the return of the two princes, and as their sworn friend, I was accorded a hearty welcome. The king ordered his servitors to prepare a magnificent banquet for that evening, and I was conveyed to a comfortable apartment within the palace to wash and refresh myself, following which, I walked about the town to observe the manners and modes of living of Tompopo’s subjects.
“Their dwellings, while simply constructed of wood and straw, were commodious and airy, and decorated with fantastical carvings and embellishments of shell and —”
“Never mind all that. What about the princess?”
But the princess had to wait, as the party reached the bakery and everyone hurried inside out of the cold.
By great good fortune, young Jacob Miller was in attendance behind the counter when the Prices and Mr. Gibson entered, and his expression upon spying Susan attested to his devotion and his indifference to the finer points of feminine attire.
Mr. Gibson urged Betsey and Charles to select whatever they wished, but young Mr. Miller was remarkably inattentive to their clamoring for buns and bread, giving all his attention to Susan.
Jacob’s father, a shorter, broader version of his son, emerged from the back of the shop to greet the party thusly:
“Mr. Gibson! You are back in Portsmouth again! Welcome, sir! Are you come to stay?” This with a friendly smile and a wink at Fanny.
“I am afraid not, Mr. Miller. I am to go almost immediately to the assizes in York and report on the trials there.”
A scowl crossed the burly baker’s face. “And to see every man hanged, I trust! Murderers, vandals and thieves!”
“Desperate men, sir, will take desperate measures.”
This was met with a vigorous shake of the head and an emphatic fist on the counter. “Oh, you’ll have a job to do, afore you convince me that men who smash machinery and rob innocent folks in their own homes, only want a bit of bread for their children. It is all a plot, sir, to excite the people, and overthrow the King! The mob must be put down, sir, sharply and surely, or what is to become of the country?”
“There will be a trial first,” said Mr. Gibson in his usual calm and quiet manner.
“Did that mill owner, that Mr. Horsfall, did he receive a trial, before he was murdered in cold blood—shot down and left to die on the highway?” Mr. Miller demanded, and Fanny was sorry to see that the baker was much discomposed.
“Very well, sir, as you say,” said Mr. Gibson, and Fanny hoped the younger man might yield to the older, out of courtesy if not conviction. But her friend Mr. Gibson, as she knew, was seldom able to leave a point undisputed where he felt a matter of principle was at stake, and he continued, although he spoke in the same mild and conciliatory tone: “The measures taken by the Luddites are against the law—and ill-advised as well—but I put it to you, sir, what are they to do when entire villages are faced with idleness and starvation?”
“And so shall the mill-owners say, ‘pray, help yourselves, my good man, smash anything that you please,’ while their blood flows in the streets, and Napoleon laughs?,” Mr. Miller exclaimed with an impatient air. He looked down at Fanny as though to say, “and this is your friend?” and then over to Susan, talking to his son. “I should be sorry, very sorry indeed, if any friends of mine should join the wrong side.”
“The government has successfully persuaded the greater part of the public that the mildest opposition to its measures is giving comfort to our enemies. But merely because a person seeks reform, he does not necessarily want to see the king’s head on a pike,” Mr. Gibson rejoined, but Fanny looked up at him earnestly and he relented, beginning again with: “Sir, believe me, I had no intention of coming to your establishment for the purpose of quarrelling with you, on any subject whatsoever. And you know Miss Price too well to suppose her guilty of either sedition or discourtesy. We came, in fact, in quest of some of your excellent bread.”
“Well then, well then,” Mr. Miller, who had begun to turn alarmingly red, “every man to his own opinion, and every man is welcome to buy my bread, and as it is the close of business for today, and in consideration of your good mother, Miss Price, pray allow me to put some extra loaves in your basket. And you will give her my compliments and best regards, will you not?”
“I will indeed, thank you, Mr. Miller,” said Fanny with true gratitude and relief that the quarrel had not grown more dangerous.
“Have you any gingerbread, Mr. Miller?” demanded Betsey.
Mr. Gibson then politely, and with a manner entirely proper and unobjectionable, enquired “whether Mrs. Price carried an account for her
