Tobias Smollett - The Adventures of Roderick Random

Mrs. Weazel, enraged to find herself in such a pickle through the precipitation of her husband, arose in her shift, and with the heel of her shoe which she found by the bedside, belaboured the captain’s bald pate till he roared “Murder.” “I’ll teach you to empty your stinkpots on me,” cried she, “you pitiful hop-o’-my-thumb coxcomb. What, I warrant you’re jealous, you man of lath. Was it for this I condescended to take you to my bed, you poor, withered, sapless twig?”

The noise occasioned by this adventure had brought the master of the waggon and me to the door, where we overheard all that passed with great satisfaction. In the meantime we were alarmed with the cry of “Rape! Murder! Rape!” which Jenny pronounced with great vociferation. “Oh! You vile abominable old villain,” said she, “would you rob me of my virtue? But I’ll be revenged of you, you old goat! I will! Help! for heaven’s sake! help! I shall be ravished! ruined! help!” Some servants of the inn, hearing this cry, came running upstairs with lights, and such weapons as chance afforded; when we beheld a very diverting scene. In one corner stood the poor captain shivering in his shirt, which was all torn to rags: with a woeful visage, scratched all over by his wife, who had by this time wrapped the counterpane about her, and sat sobbing on the side of her bed. At the other end lay the old usurer, sprawling on Miss Jenny’s bed, with his flannel jacket over his shirt, and his tawny meagre limbs exposed to the air; while she held him fast by the two ears, and loaded him with execrations. When he asked what was the matter, she affected to weep, told us she was afraid that wicked rogue had ruined her in her sleep, and bade us take notice of what we saw, for she intended to make use of our evidence against him. The poor wretch looked like one more dead than alive, and begged to be released; a favour which he had no sooner obtained than he protested she was no woman, but a devil incarnate—that she had first seduced his flesh to rebel, and then betrayed him. “Yes, cockatrice,” continued he, “you know you laid this snare fur me—but you shan’t succeed—for I will hang myself before you shall get a farthing of me.” So saying, he crawled to his own bed, groaning all the way. We then advanced to the Captain, who told us, “Gentlemen, here has been a d—d mistake; but I’ll be revenged on him who was the cause of it. That Scotchman who carries the knapsack shall not breathe this vital air another day, if my name be Weazel. My dear, I ask you ten thousand pardons; you are sensible, I could mean no harm to you.” “I know not what you meant,” replied she, sighing, “but I know I have got enough to send me to my grave.” At length they were reconciled. The wife was complimented with a share of Miss Jenny’s bed (her own being overflowed), and the master of the waggon invited Weazel to sleep the remaining part of the night with him. I retired to mine, where I found Strap mortally afraid, he having stolen away in the dark while the captain and his lady were at loggerheads.

Captain Weazel challenges Strap, who declines the Combat—an Affair between the Captain and me—the Usurer is fain to give Miss Jenny five Guineas for a Release—we are in Danger of losing a Meal—the Behaviour of Weazel, Jenny, and Joey, on that Occasion—an Account of Captain Weazel and his Lady—the Captain’s Courage tried—Isaac’s mirth at the Captain’s Expense

Next morning I agreed to give the master of the waggon ten shillings for my passage to London, provided Strap should be allowed to take my place when I should be disposed to walk. At the same time I desired him to appease the incensed captain, who had entered the kitchen with a drawn sword in his hand, and threatened with many oaths to sacrifice the villain who attempted to violate his bed; but it was to no purpose for the master to explain the mistake, and assure him of the poor lad’s innocence, who stood trembling behind me all the while: the more submission that appeared in Strap, the more implacable seemed the resentment of Weazel, who swore he must either fight him or he would instantly put him to death. I was extremely provoked at this insolence, and told him, it could not be supposed that a poor barber lad would engage a man of the sword at his own weapon; but I was persuaded he would wrestle or box with him. To which proposal Strap immediately gave assent, by saying, “he would box with him for a guinea.” Weazel replied with a look of disdain, that it was beneath any gentleman of his character to fight like a porter, or even to put himself on a footing, in any respect, with such a fellow as Strap. “Odds bodikins!” cries Joey, “sure, coptain, yaw would not commit moorder! Here’s a poor lad that is willing to make atonement for his offence; and an that woan’t satisfie yaw, offers to fight yaw fairly. And yaw woan’t box, I dare say, he will coodgel with yaw. Woan’t yaw, my lad?” Strap, after some hesitation, answered, “Yes, yes, I’ll cudgel with him.” But this expedient being also rejected by the captain, I began to smell his character, and, tipping Strap the wink, told the captain that I had always heard it said, the person who receives a challenge should have the choice of the weapons; this therefore being the rule in point of honour, I would venture to promise on the head of my companion, that he would even fight Captain Weazel at sharps; but it should be with such sharps as Strap was best acquainted with, namely, razors. At my mentioning razors: I could perceive the captain’s colour change while Strap, pulling me by the sleeve, whispered with great eagerness: “No, no, no; for the love of God, don’t make any such bargain.” At length, Weazel, recovering himself, turned towards me, and with a ferocious countenance asked, “Who the devil are you? Will you fight me?” With these words, putting himself in a posture, I was grievously alarmed at seeing the point of a sword within half a foot of my breast; and, springing to one side, snatched up a spit that stood in the chimney-corner, with which I kept my formidable adversary at bay, who made a great many half-longes, skipping backward at every push, till at last I pinned him up in a corner, to the no small diversion of the company. While he was in this situation his wife entered, and, seeing her husband in these dangerous circumstances, uttered a dreadful scream: in this emergency, Weazel demanded a cessation, which was immediately granted; and at last was contented with the submission of Strap, who, falling on his knees before him, protested the innocence of his intention, and asked pardon for the mistake he had committed. This affair being ended without bloodshed, we went to breakfast, but missed two of our company, namely, Miss Jenny and the usurer. As for the first, Mrs. Weazel informed us, that she had kept her awake all night with her groans; and that when she rose in the morning, Miss Jenny was so much indisposed that she could not proceed on her journey. At that instant, a message came from her to the master of the waggon, who immediately went into her chamber, followed by us all. She told him in a lamentable tone, that she was afraid of a miscarriage, owing to the fright she received last night from the brutality of Isaac; and, as the event was uncertain, desired the usurer might be detained to answer for the consequence. Accordingly, this ancient Tarquin was found in the waggon, whither he had retired to avoid the shame of last night’s disgrace, and brought by force into her presence. He no sooner appeared than she began to weep and sigh most piteously, and told us, if she died, she would leave her blood upon the head of that ravisher. Poor Isaac turned up his eyes and hands to heaven, prayed that God would deliver him from the machinations of that Jezebel; and assured us, with tears in his eyes, that his being found in bed with her was the result of her own invitation. The waggoner, understanding the case, advised Isaac to make it up, by giving her a sum of money: to which advice he replied with great vehemence, “A sum of money!—a halter for the cockatrice!” “Oh! ‘tis very well,” said Miss Jenny; “I see it is in vain to attempt that flinty heart of his by fair means. Joey, be so good as to go to the justice, and tell him there is a sick person here, who wants to see him on an affair of consequence.” At the name of justice Isaac trembled, and bidding Joey stay, asked with a quavering voice, “What she would have? She told him that, as he had not perpetrated his wicked purpose, she would be satisfied with a small matter. And though the damage she might sustain in her health might be irreparable, she would give him a release for a hundred guineas.” “A hundred guineas!” cried he in an ecstacy, “a hundred furies! Where should a poor old wretch like me have a hundred guineas? If I had so much money, d’ya think I should be found travelling in a waggon, at this season of the year?” “Come, come,” replied Jenny, “none of your miserly artifice here. You think I don’t know Isaac Rapine, the money-broker, in the Minories. Ah! you old rogue! many a pawn have you had of me and my acquaintance, which was never redeemed.” Isaac, finding it was in vain to disguise himself, offered twenty shillings for a discharge, which she absolutely refused under fifty pounds: at last, however, she was brought down to five, which he paid with great reluctancy, rather than be prosecuted for a rape. After which accommodation, the sick person made a shift to get into the waggon, and we set forward in great tranquillity; Strap being accommodated with Joey’s horse, the driver himself choosing to walk. The morning and forenoon we were entertained with an account of the valour of Captain Weazel, who told us he had once knocked down a soldier that made game of him; tweaked a drawer by the nose, who found fault with his picking his teeth with a fork, at another time; and that he had moreover challenged a cheesemonger, who had the presumption to be his rival: for the truth of which exploits he appealed to his wife. She confirmed whatever he said, and observed, “The last affair happened that very day on which I received a love-letter from Squire Gobble, and don’t you remember, my dear, I was prodigiously sick that very night with eating ortolans, when my Lord Diddle took notice of my complexion’s being altered, and my lady was so alarmed that she had well nigh fainted?” “Yes, my dear,” replied the captain, “you know my lord said to me, with a sneer, ‘Billy, Mrs. Weazel is certainly breeding.’ And I answered cavalierly, ‘My lord, I wish I could return the compliment.’ Upon which the whole company broke out into an immoderate fit of laughter; and my lord, who loves a repartee dearly, came round and bussed me.” We travelled in this manner five days, without interruption or meeting anything worth notice: Miss Jenny, who soon recovered her spirits, entertaining us every day with diverting songs, of which she could sing a great number; and rallying her own gallant, who, notwithstanding, would never be reconciled to her. On the sixth day, while we were about to sit down to dinner, the innkeeper came and told us, that three gentlemen, just arrived, had ordered the victuals to be carried to their apartment, although he had informed them that they were bespoke by the passengers in the waggon. To which information they had replied, “the passengers in the waggon might be d—d, their betters must be served before them; they supposed it would be no hardship on such travellers to dine upon bread and cheese for one day.” This was a terrible disappointment to us all; and we laid our heads together how to remedy it; when Miss Jenny observed that Captain Weazel, being by profession a soldier, ought in this case to protect and prevent us from being insulted. But the Captain excused himself, saying, he would not for all the world be known to have travelled in a waggon! swearing at the same time, that could he appear with honour, they should eat his sword sooner than his provision. Upon this declaration, Miss Jenny, snatching his weapon, drew it, and ran immediately into the kitchen, where she threatened to put the cook to death if he did not send the victuals into our chamber immediately. The noise she made brought the three strangers down, one of whom no sooner perceived her than he cried, “Ha! Jenny Ramper! what the devil brought thee hither?” “My dear Jack Rattle!” replied she, running into his arms, “is it you? Then Weazel may go to hell for a dinner—I shall dine with you.”