MISTAKEN IDENTITY.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 338, 30 May 1885, Page 18

MISTAKEN IDENTITY.

A TALE OF THE THAMES GOLDFIELDS

By N.-J

My name is not William Bradley — that's who the little woman said I was — nor did I ever serve in Her Majesty's 2nd battalion of the 14th Regiment of foot — as the little woman insisted I had — neither had I anything to do with the fine, rosy-cheeked, chubby boy of some six years old that was with' her, though she positively assured me dozens of times during the evening I spent with her and her friends that I, and I alone, was the father. Her theory of propinquity, however, received several nasty ' jars ' from the. .little chap himself while I was in his company, who; under no pressure, would take to me as ' his daddy.' It A was a queer scene that, when we had ■our first interview, in 1869. I held many interests on different parts of the Thames goldfields, and I used to walk 20 and 30 miles a day those times ; up gullies, over tills, through scrub, and mullock, and creeks, in and out of long drives, peering for leaders, testing stone, and the hundred and one things that a man can find to do who las his heart and his money in a goldfield. This evening I had ceme home very fagged. It had been raining hard all day, and the travelling was very rough ; the streets of Grahamstown were calf deep with sticky slush, and as I got to my comfortable lodgings it was growing dark, "blowing, and raining, and promising to ieep it up. Lord ! how I relished .the savoury smell of steak and onions that came to me as I got off my dirty gaiters and boots and things, and washed and put on clean, dry clothes. On a goldfield, when you return of a night after a hard day's work, knowing you have done your best, and are received into a cozy home with a warm welcome from a buxom yoirng landlady, there is a pleasure, sir, about the whole affair that yielding carpets, soft ottomans, and pages in waiting can never bring. I was half through my steak and onions and potatoes (and cabbage and parsnips from Auckland) and four cups of tea, when the Mistaken Identity family arrived. A modest knock at the front door sent in the message that the lodger was wanted, wanted by two women arid a small boy. I laid my implements down and looked up at my landlady — she was standing at the other side of the table. I never thought she could look so ugly; she was smirking, smirking in the most disagreeable and unnatural manner ; there was not a tint of pleasantry in it. Mrs Templeton was a respectable widow, and highly recommended to me as a landlady ; we were in the habit of sitting together of an evening before the fire and talking over .many things. For a couple of minutes I sat back in my chair gazing at her smirking, and then the first and last cross words I ever used to her I did use. I said, ' Mrs Templeton, what the devil are you smirking at ?' to which she replied, without a smirk, that it was a ' strange time for such parties to be enquiring for a young man like me.' And so it was strange, for I didn't know a woman on the diggings But lerself , beyond a casual acquaintance with a "barmaid or two and my washerwoman. I ■was young, too, and, well, fairly prepossessing, Irish, with an inclination to be genial. After getting the family into the hall out of the wet, for it w.as raining cats and dogs and as black as Erebus, I. held up the light between us, and we all had a good look at each other. There was a great big fat woman about fifty;; nearly as tall" as myself, broad, bulky, and" browned, heaving with asthma and corpulence. She had a large piece of soine" stuff in her hands, which she rolled about and wiped herself with. Whenever I looked at her she had her great big fishy eyes - fixed on me. Beside her stood 3Slrs Bradley, : poor little Mrs Bradley, come all the way from Auckland, and through the xlark muddy unmade streets, in the pouring xain and the bitter cold and wind, with her little six-year-old boy, to find her husband — the scoundrel to desert such a body. I •have often- tried to find that fellow, but never came across him ; he must have been a well-to-do in his day, and favoured, though I say it, for she spoke frequently in praise of •what he used to be like. Mrs Bradley was neat in her person, clean, plump, and healthy, with a large clear brown ey4, that looked straight, at me. Looked ? — she was taking in every inch of me ; there was a mixture of perplexity and joy in her face ; a confusion of gratified emotions, happiness, and uncertainty were there, with just a little smile waiting to be encouraged. And the poor laddie by his mother's side, dripping wet, stood mute and all agape. Upon my word his nose and eyes and forehead, and even his chin and cheeks and eyebrows, took after me ; but again I assure you, sir, that I had never seen the woman before in my life, and I can only reiterate that that scoundrel Bradley must have been well favoured. . ....-....' It will take me a month to tell my story if Igoon in this way. The old demijohn broke our" silence and wheezed put the observation that caused my knotty arid combined locks to part :— ' There, Mrs Bradley,' she &aid, 'there's your ,hus[band ; for you— now*'-— 'she shot the word ;' ; npw ' p'lit; of ,her from somewhere dojwn. low lib^ a ;.y:eritrilpquist, and raised heaves joii herself equal" to: "the ;>t6rmy billows. pTßeh the.poor fittie'womaia^wa^edl and sobbed. 6iit, jand I got white. and cold,. .and coaldn't

swallow, and the boy began to knuckle his eyes ,and whine. And it was — ' Oh! Willie, why did you go away, why did you do it. Oh! Why did you leave me, Willie V'^ I said to myself, 'Oh ! Why did you die, Paddy Murphy !' and, faith, at .the time, .wished I had been in Paddy Mui'phy's own boots. Well, this was a terrible state of affairs. The crying, and whining, and wheezing were increasing, and the poor little woman had placed her two arms on my shoulders, and with tears running down her cheeks close to me, was trying to tell me how glad she was to have her Willie again, and that ' we'd never, never part again, would we ? ' I tried to pull myself together, and, with the kindest words I could bring to use, assured the little body that she was mistaken. To see the yearning lo©k in her eyes ! As I paused at times while speaking, she would pass her hand over my head and face, and turn my hands over and over, and trick out eveiy inch on them. Then she would flash up at my face with an angry, wild curiosity. She was terribly in earnest. I believe I could have satisfied her then and there only for the unctuous old cormorant who was with her. With considerable trouble and bad breath that animated haggis let me know that she couldn't be deceived -in me, that that she had been at my wedding, aye, and had danced with me years ago (whew ! danced with her), that there was a party in the very township who would swear to me, James Corcoran, the greengrocer. Perhaps I didn't remember Corcoran ? Would I face Corcoran, my own messmate at the same table and the next bed for seven years in the 14th ? That it was a cruel shame to desert my wife — and such a wife — and leave her on the world with a young child ; oh 1 I tell you she gave it to me. The poor few ideas that were left me after all this struck on my dazed brain the word Corcoran! Ah! Corcoran; Corcoran, the greengrocer ; that's the fellow to settle this matter. Corcoran is the straightforward upright man of business that will soon put things right. Corcoran is the boy that will tear this hideous phantasm to rags, and squash that fat person before me. My long boots, coat, and hat were on in a jiffy, and away we all started for Corcoran's shop. In the first three yards the child boy stuck in the mud, and I lifted the poor chap np in my arms and carried him. This action of mine seemed to gratify the mother greatly, and to strengthen her belief that I was indeed her own Willie. A quarter of an hour's walking brought us to Corcoran's, and we entered in Indian file ; the fat woman first, then Mrs Bradley, and I brought up the rear with the child. It was a disagreeable sinelliug place, of sour potatoes, onions, cheese, candles, rats, and the general effluvia of a place not kept clean ; but my olfactories were forgotten. My eye was on Corcoran standing behind the counter, my whole soul was with him ; (here was the man to redeem me from this horrible charge, and while I gazed on him I considered that Dan O'Connell was small potatoes as a Liberator compared to Corcoran. As I recall him now, after sixteen years he pictures a forbiddinglooking fellow, with large, black eyes set close, a remarkably low forehead, and broad, coarse mouth. Now what do you thiuk was the first thing that man did ? Did he say "Good evening; what can I have the pleasure of serving you with ?" or words of that sort ? Not a bit of it. He just walked quietly round the counter and up to me, and, putting out his hand, said, " Bradley, I'm proud to meet you again." I thought for a moment that I would fall on him and make a total wreck of him, but 1 was bewildered beyond measure, and before 1 could collect myself he had half led, half pressed me into the back parlour, the others following. It was a comfortable room, with a big sofa and easy chairs. A fine fire was burning, and sitting at it was Mrs Corcoran, a strong, healthy-looking woman, and, from all appearances, a great deal too good for him. Just think of it and fancy my feeling when she rose quietly and, coming towards me, said, ' Mr Bradley, you're welcome back.' Well, to make a long story short, we were all soon seated round the fire ; the kettle was boiled, Cercoran produced a bottle of brandy, and in a very short time every one of us, women and men, were nursing a tumbler ol hot grog, strong and sweet. It is very mollifying, that tipple ; by the time Corcoran and I had finished our first I was greatly soothed, over our second we talked and chatted freely, and frequent references were made to me to remember occurrences long past in which Corcoran and Bradley figured, but at these I shook my head. The woman with the asthma was becoming very red and swollen, she laboured through two or three stories that had Bradley in them ; Mrs Corcoran recollected this and that, and appealed to James and to me when she was in doubt. I think that it was about the third tumbler of hot brandy that poor little Mrs Bradley — who all this time was sitting next me and quiet — took the, boy and put him on my knee, and told .him to kiss his daddy. They say ' it's a wise cliild,' &c, but this little man could give a pretty shrewd guess, at who wasn't his father. He would not have me for 'daddy' at all, and said so ; he made a sudden wriggle and jerked himself clean on to the floor. I blessed that boy inwardly, and gave him sixpence on the spot. ; Further on I recollect the little woman asking me to ; sing : t * Do, Willie dear, sing one of your old songs:; :sing^ Good-bye, sweetheart." ' With^her hand: resting on

my knee, I sat up and warbled. The brandywas good, that was evident, for I felt in grand fettle. I was dallying up amongst the high notes, * with bliss, with bliss too brief,' when , the poor body burst out with a sob — I noticed she had not gone beyond her first tumbler — and cried, ' Oh, now I'm sure he is my husband. I'd swear to that, voice among a thousand. Oh dear, oh dear, and he wants to deny it ! " There was a tableau and that song was never finished. I can remember old Asthma rising like a great mound before me and saying it was time for her. to go, and bidding us goodnight, and leaving with Corcoran to see her home. Mrs Corcoran went into another room and left us together; the child was lying asleep in an easy chair.JHere was a situation ! It was past eleven o'clock ; the rain pouring down in torrents, and the wind howled again. I sat staring at the fire, trying to work out how to end the affair ; she, with her face in her hands, sat; rocking herself, her eyes moist, her face flushed, the very emblem of dejection. I declare I think I almost wished at that moment to be Bradley, so that I could have comforted her. I was aware of Mrs Corcoran's coming back and putting four chairs — seats inward — against the sofa. I can see her now carrying in a great feather bed p.nd slapping it down on the sofa and chairs, and fixing it about, and putting sheets and blankets and pillows on it, and patting it all over. I noticed Corcoran's return, and their wishing us good-night— l think Mrs C. said, ' God bless ye ' — and going to their own room, and leaving poor Mrs Bradley and me by ourselves. I have great pleasure in telling you, sir, that at this particular moment the exhilarating effects of the hot brandy immediately left me, and, to speak metaphorically, I buckled on an armour impregnable to any temptation. We certainly did look at each other more than once, and took long looks, too ; she, God help her, listless, believing, depending, I with pure pity alone. I began and told her all over again, explained who X was, and that there were numbers on the diggings who knew me, where I came from, and could maintain the truth of what 1 stated. Till two o'clock in the morning, sir, we sat there. She related her story, how Bradley had deserted his regiment and her some two years ago ; that there was a warrant out for his apprehension ; how she had struggled and toiled on, all the long time supporting an aged mother and her child. They lived in Auckland, and one day, a week ago, old Asthma had come up from the Thames and told them she had seen Bradley and traced him to his lodgings ; how she hastened down and found me, ' And now, and now I ' refused to acknowledge myself ; for you are William Bradley,' she fired out. 'How could I be so mistaken who shared your bed and board for five years ; every trick of your face and manner tells me you are Bradley.' I stood up and stretched myself and said I would go and see if it was clearing. I opened the back door and stepped out ; flim slush, and I was up to my knees in mud. I groped round in the blackness for the fence. Mother of Moses ! it was a seven-foot high paling one. I dragged myself up, sir, on to my stomach, and literally threw myself over. When I picked myself up out of the water, I made a bee line for a light I saw twinkling a long way off. After an hour and a half's wading, tripping, and tumbling, I arrived home in a most disgraceful plight, completely dazed. Next morning I took the early boat for Auckland and went straight to Inspector Broham. He looked up his book, and there, sure enough, was Bradley's name and description as a deserter ; his features, complexion, height, age. all tallied with mine, and when I told the inspector my story, he sat down and laughed to that extent that I thought he would hurt himself. In & week or so I returned to the Thames and went on with my business. I often saw Corcoran, but he never spoke to me ; once I met that wretched fat woman who had caused all the misery ; she lowered her eyes on seeing me and waddled on. Some months afterwards I sold out my interests and left the Thames, and since that memorably unfortunate night that I spent with her, I have never seen poor Airs Bradley.