I was getting on in the first year of my apprenticeship. Because I was growing too old for the village school, my education came to an end. But not before Biddy had taught me everything she knew. Whatever she taught me, I tried to pass on to Joe. But this makes me sound like a better person than I was. What I really wanted was to make Joe less ignorant so that Estella wouldn’t scorn him.
Our place of study was out on the marshes. I never knew Joe to remember anything from one Sunday to the next or to learn anything from my teaching. But it was pleasant and quiet to sit there and watch the ships sailing on the river. As so often happened, I began to think of Estella and Miss Havisham.
"Joe, don’t you think I should pay Miss Havisham a visit?"
"She might think you wanted something from her, Pip. And she told me you should not expect any more from her."
"I only meant that, since we aren’t busy right now, if you would give me a half-day off tomorrow, I could go uptown and call on Miss Est—Havisham."
Joe agreed to the visit. "But if she does not receive you cordially, there will be no future visits."
Now Joe had a worker at his forge named Orlick who had always disliked me. When I was very small and timid, he told me the devil lived in a dark corner of the forge. He also told me that once every seven years, it was necessary to make the fire using a live boy for fuel! When I became Joe’s apprentice, Orlick disliked me even more. I knew it was because he suspected that I would one day take over his position at the forge.
Orlick was at work the next day when I reminded Joe of my afternoon off. "Now, master!" he said to Joe. "Surely you’re not going to favor one of us. If young Pip has a holiday, do the same for me."
"What would you do with your time off?" asked Joe.
"What’s Pip going to do?"
"Pip’s going uptown," said Joe.
"Well, two people can go uptown!" growled Orlick.
Joe refused to hear any more until Orlick was in a better temper. Orlick dove at the furnace and pulled out a red-hot bar of metal. Then he waved it about my head, laid it on the anvil, and started hammering furiously.
After a while Joe said to Orlick, "Since you generally get your work done, let it be a half-day for all."
Meanwhile my sister had been standing in the yard, listening and looking in through the window. "You must be a rich man to waste wages that way," she said to Joe. "If I were his master . . ."
"You’d be everybody’s master if you could," said Orlick.
"Leave her alone," said Joe quietly.
"As a master I’d have no problem with rogues," said my sister. "Including you—the worst rogue between here and France."
"You’re a foul shrew," shouted Orlick.
"What did you say?" screamed my sister.
"I tell you, leave her alone," said Joe.
And with that he and Orlick began to fight. But no one could stand up to Joe, and Orlick soon found himself lying on the ground like the pale young gentleman. I went upstairs to get dressed for my visit to Miss Havisham’s. When I left for Miss Havisham’s, Joe and Orlick were sweeping up as if nothing had happened.
Miss Havisham was alone in her room. "I hope you want nothing," she said briskly, "because you’ll get nothing."
"I only wanted you to know that I’m doing well in my apprenticeship and I’m much obliged to you." I looked around the gloomy room.
She seemed to soften. "You may come to visit me now and then. Come on your birthday. Hey!" She peered intently at me. "You’re looking around for Estella!"
Indeed I had been looking for Estella. "I . . . I . . . hope that she’s well."
"Estella has gone abroad to be educated. I hear she’s prettier than ever and admired by all who see her. Do you feel you’ve lost her?" she said with a disagreeable laugh.
There was such malicious enjoyment in that last question that I didn’t know what to say. Miss Havisham spared me the trouble of answering by dismissing me. I went downstairs and left the house. As the gate closed behind me, I felt even more dissatisfied with my home and my trade.
I wandered along the street, looking unhappily through shop windows and thinking about what I would buy if I were a gentleman. Mr. Wopsle came out of the bookshop and urged me to come along with him to Mr. Pumblechook’s for tea. I knew I would be miserable at home, so I went with him. Mr. Wopsle read a new book aloud in a quite dramatic fashion, and we stayed until nine thirty that night.
It was very dark when we set out for home. We were just commenting on the heavy mist when we came upon a man slouching against a tree.
"Hello!" said Mr. Wopsle. "Is that you, Orlick?"
"Yes," he said, coming over to us.
"You’re late," I said.
"So are you."
"We have been engaging," Mr. Wopsle said grandly, "in an intellectual evening."
Orlick was not impressed. "The guns are firing again," he said as he fell into step alongside us.
"From the prison ships?" I asked.
"Yes. You’ll hear one soon."
And sure enough we had not walked much farther when I heard the familiar booming sound deadened by the mist.
"It’s a good night for running off," said Orlick.
After a while we came to the village. As we passed the pub, we were surprised to find it in a state of commotion with the door wide open.
"They must have captured the convict," said Mr. Wopsle. "I’ll go in and find out what happened."
He was only inside for a moment before he came running out again.
"There’s something wrong up at your place, Pip! Let’s go."
"What is it?" I asked, running to keep up with him. Orlick also ran at my side.
"It seems that the house was broken into when Joe was out," said Mr. Wopsle. "By convicts, I suppose. Somebody has been attacked and hurt."
We were running too fast to talk anymore, and we didn’t stop running until we got to our kitchen. The whole village was either there or in the yard. A surgeon and Joe and a group of women were all on the floor in the middle of the kitchen. They stepped back when they saw me, and so I saw my sister lying unconscious on the floor. She had been knocked down by a tremendous blow to the back of her head.
Nothing had been taken from any part of the house. But there was one remarkable piece of evidence on the spot. She had been struck by something blunt and heavy. And on the floor beside her was a convict’s leg iron that had been filed open.