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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:52:41 -0700 |
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diff --git a/18156-h/18156-h.htm b/18156-h/18156-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee63904 --- /dev/null +++ b/18156-h/18156-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8107 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of We and the World, Part II., by Juliana Horatia Ewing. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .p1 { + margin-top: 0em; + text-align: right; + margin-right: 1.5em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + } + .p3 { + margin-top: 0em; + margin-right: 1.5em; + text-align: right; + } + li { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: left; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of We and the World, Part II. (of II.), by +Juliana Horatia Ewing + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: We and the World, Part II. (of II.) + A Book for Boys + +Author: Juliana Horatia Ewing + +Release Date: April 12, 2006 [EBook #18156] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WE AND THE WORLD, PART II. *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Erik Bent, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1><span style="font-size: 1.5em;">WE AND THE WORLD:</span></h1> + +<h2>A BOOK FOR BOYS.<br /> </h2> + + +<h3>PART II.<br /> </h3> + + +<h4><span style="margin-bottom: 0em;">BY</span></h4> +<h2><span style="margin-top: 0em;">JULIANA HORATIA EWING.</span><br /> <br /> </h2> + + + +<h3>SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE,<br /> +<span class="smcap">London: Northumberland Avenue, W.C.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Brighton: 129, North Street.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">New York: E. & J.B. YOUNG & CO.</span><br /> + <br /> + </h3> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h4><!-- Page 2 -->[Published under the direction of the General Literature Committee.]</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><!-- Page 5 -->WE AND THE WORLD.</h2> + + + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +“A friend in need is a friend indeed.”—<i>Old Proverb</i>.<br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I have</span> often thought that the biggest bit of good +luck (and I was lucky), which befell me on my outset +into the world, was that the man I sat next to in the +railway carriage was not a rogue. I travelled third +class to Liverpool for more than one reason—it was +the cheapest way, besides which I did not wish to +meet any family friends—and the man I speak of +was a third-class passenger, and he went to Liverpool +too.</p> + +<p>At the time I was puzzled to think how he came +to guess that I was running away, that I had money +with me, and that I had never been to Liverpool +before; but I can well imagine now how my ignorance +and anxiety must have betrayed themselves at every +station I mistook for the end of my journey, and with +every question which I put, as I flattered myself, in +the careless tones of common conversation, I really +<!-- Page 6 -->wonder I had not thought beforehand about my +clothes, which fitted very badly on the character I +assumed, and the company I chose; but it was not +perhaps to be expected that I should know then, as +I know now, how conspicuous all over me must have +been the absence of those outward signs of hardship +and poverty, which they who know poverty and +hardship know so well.</p> + +<p>I wish <i>I</i> had known them, because then I should +have given the man some of my money when we +parted, instead of feeling too delicate to do so. I +can remember his face too well not to know now how +much he must have needed it, and how heroic a virtue +honesty must have been in him.</p> + +<p>It did not seem to strike him as at all strange or +unnatural that a lad of my age should be seeking his +own fortune, but I feel sure that he thought it was +misconduct on my part which had made me run +away from home. I had no grievance to describe +which he could recognize as grievous enough to +drive me out into the world. However, I felt very +glad that he saw no impossibility in my earning my +own livelihood, or even anything very unusual in my +situation.</p> + +<p>“I suppose lots of young fellows run away from +home and go to sea from a place like this?” said I, +when we had reached Liverpool.<!-- Page 7 --></p> + +<p>“And there’s plenty more goes that has no homes +to run from,” replied he sententiously.</p> + +<p>Prefacing each fresh counsel with the formula, +“You’ll excuse <i>me</i>,” he gave me some excellent +advice as we threaded the greasy streets, and jostled +the disreputable-looking population of the lower part +of the town. General counsels as to my conduct, +and the desirableness of turning over a new leaf for +“young chaps” who had been wild and got into +scrapes at home. And particular counsels which +were invaluable to me, as to changing my dress, how +to hide my money, what to turn my hand to with the +quickest chance of bread-winning in strange places, +and how to keep my own affairs to myself among +strange people.</p> + +<p>It was in the greasiest street, and among the +most disreputable-looking people, that we found the +“slop-shop” where, by my friend’s orders, I was to +“rig out” in clothes befitting my new line of life. +He went in first, so he did not see the qualm that +seized me on the doorstep. A revulsion so violent +that it nearly made me sick then and there; and if +some one had seized me by the nape of my neck, +and landed me straightway at my desk in Uncle +Henry’s office, would, I believe, have left me tamed +for life. For if this unutterable vileness of sights and +sounds and smells which hung around the dark entry +<!-- Page 8 -->of the slop shop were indeed the world, I felt a +sudden and most vehement conviction that I would +willingly renounce the world for ever. As it happened, +I had not at that moment the choice. My friend had +gone in, and I dared not stay among the people +outside. I groped my way into the shop, which was +so dark as well as dingy that they had lighted a small +oil-lamp just above the head of the man who served +out the slops. Even so the light that fell on him +was dim and fitful, and was the means of giving +me another start in which I gasped out—“Moses +Benson!”</p> + +<p>The man turned and smiled (he had the Jew-clerk’s +exact smile), and said softly,</p> + +<p>“Cohen, my dear, not Benson.”</p> + +<p>And as he bent at another angle of the oil-lamp +I saw that he was older than the clerk, and dirtier; +and though his coat was quite curiously like the +one I had so often cleaned, he had evidently either +never met with the invaluable “scouring drops,” or +did not feel it worth while to make use of them in +such a dingy hole.</p> + +<p>One shock helped to cure the other. Come what +might, I could not sneak back now to the civil congratulations +of that other Moses, and the scorn of +his eye. But I was so nervous that my fellow-traveller +transacted my business for me, and when +<!-- Page 9 -->the oil-lamp flared and I caught Moses Cohen +looking at me, I jumped as if Snuffy had come +behind me. And when we got out (and it was no +easy matter to escape from the various benevolent +offers of the owner of the slop-shop), my friend said,</p> + +<p>“You’ll excuse me telling you, but whatever you +do don’t go near that there Jew again. He’s no +friend for a young chap like you.”</p> + +<p>“I should have got your slops cheaper,” he +added, “if I could have taken your clothes in without +you.”</p> + +<p>My “slops” were a very loose suit of clothes +made of much coarser material than my own, and +I suppose they were called “slops” because they +fitted in such a peculiarly sloppy manner. The +whole “rig out” (it included a strong clasp-knife, +and a little leathern bag to keep my money in, which +I was instructed to carry round my neck) was provided +by Mr. Cohen in exchange for the clothes I +had been wearing before, with the addition of ten +shillings in cash. I dipped again into the leathern +bag to provide a meal for myself and my friend; +then, by his advice, I put a shilling and some coppers +into my pocket, that I might not have to bring out +my purse in public, and with a few parting words of +counsel he wrung my hand, and we parted—he +towards some place of business where he hoped to +<!-- Page 10 -->get employment, and I in the direction of the docks, +where the ships come and go.</p> + +<p>“I hope you <i>will</i> get work,” were my last words.</p> + +<p>“The same to you, my lad,” was his reply, and +it seemed to acknowledge me as one of that big +brotherhood of toilers who, when they want “something +to do,” want it not to pass time but to earn +daily bread.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 11 -->CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +“Deark d’on Dearka.” (“<i>Beg of a Beggar</i>.”)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15.5em;"><i>Irish Proverb</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“... From her way of speaking they also saw immediately +that she too was an Eirisher.... They must be a bonny +family when they are all at home!”—<i>The Life of Mansie +Tailor in Dalkeith</i>.</p></div> + + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dock</span>” (so ran the 536th of the ‘Penny Numbers’) +is “a place artificially formed for the reception of +ships, the entrance of which is generally closed by +gates. There are two kinds of docks, dry-docks and +wet-docks. The former are used for receiving ships +in order to their being inspected and repaired. For +this purpose the dock must be so contrived that the +water may be admitted or excluded at pleasure, so +that a vessel can be floated in when the tide is high, +and that the water may run out with the fall of the +tide, or be pumped out, the closing of the gates +preventing its return. Wet-docks are formed for the +purpose of keeping vessels always afloat.... One of +the chief uses of a dock is to keep a uniform level +<!-- Page 12 -->of water, so that the business of loading and unloading +ships can be carried on without any interruption.... +The first wet-dock for commercial +purposes made in this kingdom was formed in the +year 1708 at Liverpool, then a place of no importance.”</p> + +<p><i>The business of loading and unloading ships can be +carried on without any interruption.</i> If everything +that the Penny Numbers told of were as true to +the life as that, the world’s wonders (at least those +of them which begin with the first four letters of the +alphabet) must be all that I had hoped; and perhaps +that bee-hive about which Master Isaac and I had +had our jokes, did really yield a “considerable +income” to the fortunate French bee-master!</p> + +<p>Loading and unloading, coming and going, lifting +and lowering, shouting and replying, swearing and retorting, +creaking and jangling, shrieking and bumping, +cursing and chaffing, the noise and restlessness of +men and things were utterly bewildering. I had +often heard of a Babel of sounds, but I had never +before heard anything so like what one might fancy +it must have been when that great crowd of workmen +broke up, and left building their tower, in a confounding +of language and misunderstanding of speech. +For the men who went to and fro in these docks, +each his own way, jostling and yelling to each other, +were men of all nations, and the confusion was of +<!-- Page 13 -->tongues as well as of work. At one minute I found +myself standing next to a live Chinaman in a pigtail, +who was staring as hard as I at some swarthy supple-bodied +sailors with eager faces, and scant clothing +wrapped tightly round them, chatting to each other +in a language as strange to the Chinaman as to me, +their large lustrous eyes returning our curiosity with +interest, and contrasting strangely with the tea-caddy +countenance of my elbow neighbour. Then a +turbaned Turk went by, and then two grinning +negroes, and there were lots of men who looked +more like Englishmen, but who spoke with other +tongues, and amongst those who loaded and unloaded +in this busy place, which was once of no importance, +Irish brogue seemed the commonest language of all.</p> + +<p>One thing made me hopeful—there were plenty +of boys no bigger than myself who were busy working, +and therefore earning wages, and as I saw several lads +who were dressed in suits the very counterpart of my +own, I felt sure that my travelling companion had +done me a good turn when he rigged me out in slops. +An incident that occurred in the afternoon made me +a little more doubtful about this.</p> + +<p>I really had found much to counterbalance the +anxieties of my position in the delightful novelty and +variety of life around me, and not a little to raise my +hopes; for I had watched keenly for several hours as +<!-- Page 14 -->much as I could see from the wharf of what was +going on in this ship and that, and I began to feel less +confused. I perceived plainly that a great deal of +every-day sort of work went on in ships as well as in +houses, with the chief difference, in dock at any rate, +of being done in public. In the most free and easy +fashion; to the untiring entertainment of crowds of +idlers besides myself, the men and boys on vessel +after vessel lying alongside, washed out their shirts +and socks, and hung them up to dry, cooked their +food, cleaned out their pots and pans, tidied their +holes and corners, swept and brushed, and fetched +and carried, and did scores of things which I knew I +could do perfectly, for want of something better +to do.</p> + +<p>“It’s clear there’s plenty of dirty work to go on +with till one learns seamanship,” I thought, and the +thought was an honest satisfaction to me.</p> + +<p>I had always swept Uncle Henry’s office, and that +had been light work after cleaning the school-room at +Snuffy’s. My hands were never likely to be more +chapped at sea than they had been with dirt and snow +and want of things to dry oneself with at school; and +as to coal-carrying ——</p> + +<p>Talking of coals, on board the big ship, out of +which great white bales, strapped with bars of iron, +were being pulled up by machinery, and caught and +<!-- Page 15 -->flung about by the “unloaders,” there was a man +whose business it seemed to be to look after the fires, +and who seemed also to have taken a roll in the coal-hole +for pleasure; and I saw him find a tin basin and +a square of soap, and a decent rough towel to wash +his face and hands, such as would have been reckoned +luxurious in a dormitory at Snuffy’s. Altogether—when +a heavy hand was laid suddenly on my shoulder, +and a gruff voice said,</p> + +<p>“Well, my young star-gazing greenhorn, and what +do you want?”</p> + +<p>I replied with alacrity, as well as with more +respect than the stranger’s appearance was calculated +to inspire, “Please, sir, I want to go to sea, and I +should like to ship for America.”</p> + +<p>He was not a nice-looking man by any means—far +too suggestive of Snuffy, when Snuffy was partly +drunk. But after a pause, he said,</p> + +<p>“All right. Where are your papers? What was +your ship, and why did ye run?”</p> + +<p>“I have not served in a ship yet, sir,” said I, +“but I’m sure ——”</p> + +<p>He did not allow me to go on. With a sudden +fierce look that made him more horribly like Snuffy +than before, he caught me by my sleeve and a bit of +my arm, and shoved me back from the edge of the +dock till we stood alone. “Then where did ye steal +<!-- Page 16 -->your slops?” he hissed at me with oaths. “Look +here, ye young gallows-bird, if ye don’t stand me a +liquor, I’ll run ye in as a runaway apprentice. So +cash up, and look sharp.”</p> + +<p>I was startled, but I was not quite such a fool as +I looked, mind or body. I had once had a hardish +struggle with Snuffy himself when he was savage, and +I was strong and agile beyond my seeming. I dived +deeply into my trousers-pocket, as if feeling for the +price of a “liquor,” and the man having involuntarily +allowed me a little swing for this, I suddenly put up +my shoulders, and ran at him as if my head were a +battering-ram, and his moleskin waistcoat the wall of +a beleaguered city, and then wrenching myself from +his grasp, and dodging the leg he had put out to trip +me, I fled blindly down the quay.</p> + +<p>No one can take orange-peel into account, however. +I slipped on a large piece and came headlong, +with the aggravation of hearing my enemy breathing +hoarsely close above me. As regards him, I suppose +it was lucky that my fall jerked the shilling and the +penny out of my pocket, for as the shilling rolled +away he went after it, and I saw him no more. What +I did see when I sat up was the last of my penny +(which had rolled in another direction), as it gave one +final turn and fell into the dock.</p> + +<p>I could have cried with vexation, and partly with +<!-- Page 17 -->fatigue, for it was getting late, and I was getting tired. +I had fallen soft enough, as it happened, for I found +myself on a heap of seeds, some kind of small bean, +and the yielding mass made a pleasant resting-place. +There was no one very near, and I moved round to +the back of the heap to be still more out of sight, and +sat down to try and think what it was best to do. If +my slops were really a sort of uniform to which I was +not entitled, they would do me more harm than good. +But whom could I ask? If there were an honest, +friendly soul in all this crowd, and I could come +across him, I felt that (without telling too much of +my affairs) I could explain that I had exchanged some +good shore clothes of my own for what I had been +told were more suitable to the work I was looking out +for, and say further that though I had never yet been +at sea, I was hardy, and willing to make myself useful +in any way. But how could I tell whom to trust? +I might speak fair to some likely-looking man, and he +might take me somewhere and strip me of my slops, +and find my leather money-bag, and steal that too. +When I thought how easily my fellow-traveller might +have treated me thus, I felt a thrill of gratitude +towards him, and then I wondered how he had +prospered in his search for work. As for me, it was +pretty clear that if I hoped to work my way in this +wicked world, I must suspect a scoundrel in every +<!-- Page 18 -->man I met, and forestall mischief by suspicion. As +I sat and thought, I sifted the beans through my +fingers, and saw that there were lots of strange seeds +mixed with them, some of very fantastic shapes; and +I wondered what countries they came from, and with +what shape and scent and colour the plants blossomed, +and thought how Charlie would like some of them to +sow in pots and watch. As I drove my hands deeper +into the heap, I felt that it was quite warm inside, and +then I put my head down to smell if there was any +fragrance in the seeds, and I did not lift it up again, +for I fell fast asleep.</p> + +<p>I was awakened by a touch on my head, and a +voice just above me, saying: “He’s alive annyhow, +thank <span class="smcap">God</span>!” and sitting up among the beans I found +that it was dark and foggy, but a lamp at some distance +gave me a pretty good view of an old woman +who was bending over me.</p> + +<p>She was dressed, apparently, in several skirts of +unequal lengths, each one dingier and more useless-looking +than the one beneath it. She had a man’s +coat, with a short pipe in the breast-pocket; and +what her bonnet was like one could not tell, for it +was comfortably tied down by a crimson handkerchief +with big white spots, which covered it completely. +Her face was as crumpled and as dirty as her clothes, +but she had as fine eyes and as kind eyes as mine had +<!-- Page 19 -->ever met. And every idea of needful wariness and of +the wickedness of the world went quite naturally out +of my head, and I said, “Did you think I was dead, +Mother?”</p> + +<p>“I did not; though how would I know what +would be the matter wid ye, lying there those three +hours on your face, and not a stir out o’ ye?”</p> + +<p>“You’re very kind,” I said, dusting the bean-dust +off my trousers, and I suppose I looked a little +puzzled, for the old woman (helping me by flicking +at my sleeve) went on: “I’ll not deceive ye, my dear. +It was my own Micky that was on my mind; though +now you’ve lifted your face, barring the colour of his +hair, there’s no likeness betwixt ye, and I’m the +disappointed woman again, <span class="smcap">God</span> help me!”</p> + +<p>“Is Micky your son?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“He is, and a better child woman never had, till +he tired of everything I would do for him, being +always the boy for a change, and went for a stowaway +from this very port.”</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Mother; stowaways are lads that hide +on board ship, and get taken to sea for nothing, aren’t +they?”</p> + +<p>“They are, darlin’; but it’s not for nothing they +get kept at sea, ye may take your oath. And many’s +the one that leaves this in the highest of expictations, +and is glad enough to get back to it in a tattered +<!-- Page 20 -->shirt and a whole skin, and with an increase of +contintment under the ways of home upon his mind.”</p> + +<p>“And you hope Micky’ll come back, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Why wouldn’t I, acushla? Sure it was by +reason o’ that I got bothered with the washin’ after +me poor boy left me, from my mind being continually +in the docks, instead of with the clothes. And there +I would be at the end of the week, with the Captain’s +jerseys gone to old Miss Harding, and <i>his</i> washing no +corricter than <i>hers</i>, though he’d more good nature in +him over the accidents, and iron-moulds on the table-cloths, +and pocket-handkerchers missin’, and me ruined +entirely with making them good, and no thanks for +it, till a good-natured sowl of a foreigner that kept a +pie-shop larned me to make the coffee, and lint me +the money to buy a barra, and he says: ‘Go as +convanient to the ships as ye can, Mother; it’ll aise +your mind. My own heart,’ says he, laying his hand +to it, ‘knows what it is to have my body here, and +the whole sowl of me far away.’”</p> + +<p>“Did you pay him back?” I asked. I spoke +without thinking, and still less did I mean to be rude; +but it suddenly struck me that I was young and +hearty, and that it would be almost a duty to share +the contents of my leather bag with this poor old +woman, if there were no chance of her being able +to repay the generous foreigner.<!-- Page 21 --></p> + +<p>“Did I pay him back?” she screamed. “Would +I be the black-hearted thief to him that was kind to +me? Sorra bit nor sup but dry bread and water +passed me lips till he had his own agin, and the +heart’s blessings of owld Biddy Macartney along +with it.”</p> + +<p>I made my peace with old Biddy as well as I +could, and turned the conversation back to her son.</p> + +<p>“So you live in the docks with your coffee-barrow, +Mother, that you may be sure not to miss +Micky when he comes ashore?”</p> + +<p>“I do, darlin’. Fourteen years all but three days. +He’ll be gone fifteen if we all live till Wednesday +week.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Fifteen</i>? But, Mother, if he were like me when +he went, he can’t be very like me now. He must +be a middle-aged man. Do you think you’d know +him?”</p> + +<p>This question was more unfortunate than the +other, and produced such howling and weeping, and +beating of Biddy’s knees as she rocked herself among +the beans, that I should have thought every soul in +the docks would have crowded round us. But no +one took any notice of us, and by degrees I calmed +her, chiefly by the assertion—“He’ll know you, +Mother, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“He will so, <span class="smcap">God</span> bless him!” said she, “And +<!-- Page 22 -->haven’t I gone over it all in me own mind, often and +often, when I’d see the vessels feelin’ their way home +through the darkness, and the coffee staymin’ enough +to cheer your heart wid the smell of it, and the laste +taste in life of something betther in the stone bottle +under me petticoats. And then the big ship would +be coming in with her lights at the head of her, and +myself sitting alone with me patience, <span class="smcap">God</span> helping +me, and one and another strange face going by. And +then he comes along, cold maybe, and smells the +coffee. ‘Bedad, but that’s a fine smell with it,’ says +he, for Micky was mighty particular in his aitin’ and +drinkin’. ‘I’ll take a dhrop of that,’ says he, not +noticing me particular, and if ever I’d the saycret +of a good cup he gets it, me consayling me face. +‘What will it be?’ says he, setting down the mug, +‘What would it be, Micky, from your Mother?’ says +I, and I lifts me head. Arrah, but then there’s the +heart’s delight between us. ‘Mother!’ says he. +‘Micky!’ says I. And he lifts his foot and kicks +over the barra, and dances me round in his arms, +‘Ochone!’ says the spictators; ‘there’s the fine coffee +that’s running into the dock.’ ‘Let it run,’ says I, in +the joy of me heart, ‘and you after it, and the barra +on the top of ye, now Micky me son’s come home!’”</p> + +<p>“Wonderfully jolly!” said I. “And it must be +pleasant even to think of it.”</p> + +<p><!-- Page 23 -->But Biddy’s effort of imagination seemed to have +exhausted her, and she relapsed into the lowest +possible spirits, from which she suddenly roused +herself to return to her neglected coffee-stall.</p> + +<p>“Bad manners to me, for an old fool! sitting +here whineging and lamenting, when there’s folks, +maybe, waiting for their coffee, and yourself would +have been the betther of some this half-hour. Come +along wid ye.”</p> + +<p>And giving a tighter knot to the red kerchief, +which had been disordered by her lamentations, the +old woman went down the dock, I following her.</p> + +<p>We had not to go far. Biddy’s coffee-barrow was +placed just as the pieman had advised. It was as +near the ships as possible. In fact it was actually +under the shadow of a big black-looking vessel which +loomed large through the fog, and to and from which +men were coming and going as usual. With several +of these the old woman interchanged some good-humoured +chaff as she settled herself in her place, +and bade me sit beside her.</p> + +<p>“Tuck your legs under ye, agra! on that bit of +an ould sack. Tis what I wrap round me shoulders +when the nights do be wet, as it isn’t this evening, +thank <span class="smcap">God</span>! And there’s the coffee for ye.”</p> + +<p>“Mother,” said I, “do you think you could sit +so as to hide me for a few minutes? All the money +<!-- Page 24 -->I have is in a bag round my neck, and I don’t want +strangers to see it.”</p> + +<p>“Ye’ll just keep it there, then,” replied Biddy, +irately, “and don’t go an’ insult me wid the show of it.”</p> + +<p>And she turned her back on me, whilst I drank +my coffee, and ate some excellent cakes, which +formed part of her stock-in-trade. One of these she +insisted on my putting into my pocket “against the +hungry hour.” I thanked her warmly for the gift, +whereupon she became mollified, and said I was +kindly welcome; and whilst she was serving some +customers, I turned round and looked at the ship. +Late as it was, people seemed very busy about her, +rather more so than about any I had seen. As I sat, +I was just opposite to a yawning hole in the ship’s +side, into which men were noisily running great bales +and boxes, which other men on board were lowering +into the depths of the vessel with very noisy +machinery and with much shouting in a sort of uncouth +rhythm, to which the grating and bumping of +the crane and its chains was a trifle. I was so +absorbed by looking, and it was so impossible to hear +anything else unless one were attending, that I never +discovered that Biddy and I were alone again, till the +touch of her hand on my head made me jump.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, Mother,” I said; “I couldn’t +think what it was.”<!-- Page 25 --></p> + +<p>“I ax yours, dear. It’s just the curls, and I’m +the foolish woman to look at ‘em. Barrin’ the hair, +ye don’t favour each other the laste.”</p> + +<p>I had really heard a good deal about Micky, and +was getting tired of him, and inclined to revert to my +own affairs.</p> + +<p>“Mother, do you know where this ship comes +from?”</p> + +<p>“I do not. But she sails with the morning for +Halifax, I’m told. And that’s America way, and +I insensed the cook—that was him that axed me +where I bought my coffee—to have an eye out +for Micky, in case he might come across him anywhere.”</p> + +<p>America way! To-morrow morning! A storm of +thoughts rushed through my head, and in my passionate +longing for help I knelt up by the old Irishwoman and +laid my hand upon hers.</p> + +<p>“Mother dear, do help me! You are so kind, and +you’ve a boy of your own at sea. I want to go to +America, and I’ve no papers or anything. Couldn’t I +stow away as Micky did? Couldn’t I stow away on +this one? I can work well enough when they find me +out, if I could only hide so as to get off; and you +know the ships and the docks so well, you could tell +me how, if only you would.”</p> + +<p>I am always ashamed to remember the feeble way +<!-- Page 26 -->in which I finished off by breaking down, though I do +not know that I could have used any argument that +would have gone so far with Biddy. If it had been +a man who had been befriending me, I’m sure I +shouldn’t have played the fool, but it was a woman, so +I felt doubly helpless in having to depend on her, and +she felt doubly kind, and, in short, I put my face in +my hands and sobbed.</p> + +<p>For quite four hours after this I was puzzled to +death by smelling stale bad tobacco about myself; +then I discovered that by some extraordinary jerk in +the vehemence of the embrace which was Biddy’s first +response to my appeal, the little black pipe had got out +of her coat-pocket and tumbled down the breast of +my slops.</p> + +<p>I hope my breakdown was partly due to the +infectious nature of emotion, of which Biddy was so +lavish that my prospects were discussed in a sadly +unbusiness-like fashion. My conscience is really quite +clear of having led her to hope that I would look out +for Micky on the other side of the Atlantic, but I fear +that she had made up her mind that we should meet, +and that this went far towards converting her to my +views for stowing away on the vessel lying alongside of +us. However, that important point once reached, +the old woman threw herself into the enterprise with a +practical knowledge of the realities of the undertaking +<!-- Page 27 -->and a zest for the romance of it which were alike +invaluable to me.</p> + +<p>“The botheration of it is,” said Biddy, after some +talk, tangling her bonnet and handkerchief over her +face till I felt inclined to beg her to let me put her +straight—“the botheration of it is, that it’s near to +closing-time, and when the bell rings every soul’ll be +cleared out, labourers and idlers, and myself among +‘em. Yell have to hide, me darlin’, but there’ll be no +mighty difficulty in that, for I see a fine bit of +tarpaulin yonder that’d consale a dozen of the likes of +you. But there’s that fool of a watchman that’ll +come parading and meandering up and down wid all +the airs of a sentry on him and none of his good +looks, and wid a sneaking bull’s-eye of a lantern in his +hand. He’s at the end of the wharf now, purshuin’ to +him! Maybe I’ll get him to taste a dhrop of me +coffee before the bell rings. Many’s the cup I gave to +the old watchman before him, peace to his sowl, the +kindly craythur! that never did a more ill-natured +thing on his beat than sleep like a child. Hide now, +darlin’, and keep the tail of your eye at the corner +where ye’ll see the ship. Maybe he’ll take a nap yet, +for all his airs, and then there’s the chance for ye! +And mind now, keep snug till the pilot’s gone as +I warned ye, and then it’s the bold heart and the civil +tongue, and just the good-nature of your ways, that’ll +<!-- Page 28 -->be your best friends. The cook tells me the captain’s +as dacent a man as iver he served with, so you might +aisy do worse, and are not likely to do better. Are +ye hid now? Whisht! Whisht!”</p> + +<p>I heard most of this through a lifted corner of the +tarpaulin, under which I had the good luck to secrete +myself without observation and without difficulty. In +the same manner I became witness to the admirable +air of indifference with which Biddy was mixing +herself a cup of coffee as the watchman approached. +I say <i>mixing</i> advisedly, for as he came up she was +conspicuously pouring some of the contents of the +stone bottle into her cup. Whether this drew the +watchman’s attention in an unusual degree, of course I +do not know, but he stopped to say, “Good-evening, +Biddy.”</p> + +<p>“Good-evening to ye, me dear, and a nasty damp +evening it is.”</p> + +<p>“You’re taking something to keep the damp out, +I see, missus.”</p> + +<p>“I am, dear; but it’s not for a foine milithrary-looking +man like yourself to be having the laugh at a +poor old craythur with nothin’ but the wind and +weather in her bones.”</p> + +<p>“The wind and weather get into my bones, I can +tell you,” said the watchman; “and I begin my work +in the fog just when you’re getting out of it.”<!-- Page 29 --></p> + +<p>“And that’s thrue, worse luck. Take a dhrop of +coffee, allanna, before I lave ye.”</p> + +<p>“No, thank ye, missus; I’ve just had my +supper.”</p> + +<p>“And would that privint ye from takin’ the cup I’d +be offering ye, wid a taste of somethin’ in it against +the damps, barrin’ the bottle was empty?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m not particular—as you are so pressing. +Thank ye, mum; here’s your good health.”</p> + +<p>I heard the watchman say this, though at the +moment I dared not peep, and then I heard him +cough.</p> + +<p>“My sakes, Biddy, you make your—coffee—strong.”</p> + +<p>“Strong, darlin’? It’s pure, ye mane. It’s the +rale craythur, that, and bedad! there’s a dhrop or two +left that’s not worth the removing, and we’ll share it +annyhow. Here’s to them that’s far—r away.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, thank you, woman.”</p> + +<p>“Thim that’s <i>near</i>, and thim that’s far away!” said +Biddy, improving upon her toast.</p> + +<p>There was a pause. I could hear the old woman +packing up her traps, and then the man (upon whom +the coffee and whisky seemed to produce a roughening +rather than a soothing effect) said coarsely, “You’re a +rum lot, you Irish!”</p> + +<p>“We are, dear,” replied Biddy, blandly; “and +<!-- Page 30 -->that’s why we’d be comin’ all the way to Lancashire +for the improvement of our manners.” And she +threw the sacking round her neck, and lifted the +handles of her barrow.</p> + +<p>“Good-night, me darlin’!” said she, raising her +voice as she moved off. “<i>We’ll meet again</i>, <span class="smcap">God</span> +willing.”</p> + +<p>“Safe enough, unless you tumble into the dock,” +replied the watchman. “Go steady, missus. I hope +you’ll get safe home with that barra o’ yours.”</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">God</span> send all safe home that’s far from it!” +shouted Biddy, in tones that rose above the rumbling +of the wheel and the shuffling of her shoes.</p> + +<p>“Haw! haw!” laughed the watchman, and with +increased brutalness in his voice he reiterated, “You’re +a rum lot, Biddy! and free of most things, blessings +and all.”</p> + +<p>I was not surprised that the sound of the wheel +and the shoes ceased suddenly. Biddy had set down +her barrow to retort. But it was with deep gratitude +that I found her postpone her own wrath to my safety, +and content herself with making her enemy “a prisint +of the contimpt of a rogue.”</p> + +<p>“And what would I be doing but blessing ye?” +she cried, in a voice of such dramatic variety as only +quick wits and warm feelings can give, it was so full at +once of suppressed rage, humorous triumph, con<!-- Page 31 -->temptuous +irony, and infinite tenderness. And I need +hardly say that it was raised to a ringing pitch that +would have reached my ears had they been buried +under twenty tarpaulins, “<span class="smcap">God</span> bless ye for ivermore! +Good luck to ye! fine weather to ye! health and +strength to ye! May the knaves that would harm ye +be made fools for your benefit, and may niver worse +luck light on one hair of your head than the best +blessings of Biddy Macartney!”</p> + +<p>Something peculiar in the sound of Biddy’s retreating +movements made me risk another glance from +an angle of the tarpaulin.</p> + +<p>And upon my honour it is strictly true that I saw +the old Irish woman drive her barrow down the dock +till she passed out of sight, and that she went neither +walking nor running, but <i>dancing</i>; and a good high +stepping dance too, that showed her stockings, and +shook the handkerchief on her head. And when she +reached the end of the wharf she snapped her fingers +in the air.</p> + +<p>Then I drew my head back, and I could hear the +watchman guffaw as if he would have split his +sides. And even after he began to tramp up and +down I could hear him still chuckling as he paced by.</p> + +<p>And if I did not hear Biddy chuckle, it was +perhaps because the joke on her side lay deeper +down.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 32 -->CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -2.5em;">“The mariners shout,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -0.9em;">The ships swing about.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">The yards are all hoisted,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.8em;">The sails flutter out.”</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>The Saga of King Olaf.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> docks were very quiet now. Only a few footfalls +broke the silence, and the water sobbed a little round +the piles, and there was some creaking and groaning +and grinding, and the vessels drifted at their moorings, +and bumped against the wharves.</p> + +<p>The watchman paced up and down, and up and +down. I did not hear him very clearly from under +the tarpaulin, and sometimes when he went farther +away I did not hear him at all. At last I was so long +without hearing him that I peeped cautiously out. +What Biddy had said might be, seemed really to have +happened. The watchman was sitting in a sort of +arm-chair of ironbound cotton-bales; his long coat +was tucked between his legs, his hat was over his +nose, and he was fast asleep.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 33 -->I did not need any one to tell me that now was my +time; but it was with limbs that almost refused their +office from sheer fright, that I crept past the sleeping +man, and reached the edge of the wharf. There was +the vessel moving very slightly, and groaning dismally +as she moved, and there was the hole, and it was +temptingly dark. But—the gangway that had been +laid across from the wharf was gone! I could have +jumped the chasm easily with a run, but I dared not +take a run. If I did it at all it must be done standing. +I tried to fetch a breath free from heart-throbs, but in +vain; so I set my teeth, and pulled nerves and sinews +together and jumped.</p> + +<p>It was too much for me, and I jumped short and +fell. Then my training under the half-caste told in my +favour. I caught the edge of the hole with my hands, +and swung suspended over the water, with quite +presence of mind enough to hear and think of what +was going on about me. What I heard was the +watchman, who roused up to call out, “Who’s there?” +and then he shot a sharp ray of light from his lantern +right into the hole. It was very lucky for me that I +was so low, for the light went over my head, and he +saw nothing of me, my dark clothes making no mark +against the ship’s black hull.</p> + +<p>My head was cool enough now, and my heart +steady, and I listened with an intensity that postponed +<!-- Page 34 -->fear, though my predicament was not a pleasant one, +and the rippling water below me was confusing.</p> + +<p>The suspense was no doubt shorter than it seemed, +before the light disappeared, and with a thankful heart +I distinctly heard the watchman flop down again +among the cotton-bales. Then I drew myself up over +the edge and crept noiselessly into the ship. I took +care to creep beyond reach of the lantern, and then +the swaying of the vessel made me feel so giddy that +I had to lie still for a while where I was, before I +could recover myself enough to feel about for a suitable +hiding-place.</p> + +<p>As I afterwards learnt, I was on the lower deck, +which was being used for cargo instead of passengers. +The said cargo seemed so tightly packed, that in spite +of creeping, and groping, and knocking myself pretty +hard, I could feel no nook or corner to my mind. +Then I turned giddy again and reeled against the door +of a cabin, which gave way so far as to let me fall +inwards on to a heap of old sails, ropes, and other +softish ship lumber stowed away within. As I fell my +hand struck something warm, which I fancied gave a +writhe out of my grasp. I groped and seized it again, +and now there was no mistake. It was somebody’s +arm, who said in a quick undertone, “Gently, gently, +sirs; I’m coming along with ye. I’ll gie ye my word +I’m after no harm.”</p> + +<p><!-- Page 35 -->I was taken aback, but thought it well to keep up +my position, which appeared to be one of advantage. +The young man (for it was a youngster’s voice) wag +evidently no ship’s officer. If he were a dockyard +pilferer, it was a nuisance, and a complication in my +affairs, but I might pull through the difficulty with +presence of mind.</p> + +<p>“Speak low!” I whispered sharply. “What’s +your name, and where do you come from?”</p> + +<p>“Alister Auchterlay, they call me” (the whisper +was a reluctant one, but I jogged his arm rather +fiercely to shake the truth out of him). “I come from +Aberdeenshire. But, man! if ye’re for having me up +in court, for <span class="smcap">God’s</span> sake let me plead in another name, +for my mother taks the papers.”</p> + +<p>“What are you doing here?” I whispered in a +not very steady whisper, as I think my prisoner +detected.</p> + +<p>“I’m just stowing away,” he said eagerly; “I’m +no harming a thing. Eh, sir, if you’re a ship’s ‘prentice, +or whatever may be your duties on this vessel, let me +bide! There’s scores of stowaways taken every day, +and I’ll work as few could.”</p> + +<p>“Do, <i>do</i> try and speak low,” I whispered; “or we +shall both be found out <i>I’m stowing away myself</i>!”</p> + +<p>“Whew, laddie! How long will ye have been in +Liverpool?”<!-- Page 36 --></p> + +<p>“Only to-day. How long have you been here?”</p> + +<p>“A week, and a sore week too.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve no friends here, have you?”</p> + +<p>“Freens, did ye say? I’ve no freens nearer than +Scotland.”</p> + +<p>“You must have had a hard time of it,” I +whispered.</p> + +<p>“Ye may say so. I’ve slept four nights in the +docks, and never managed to stow till to-night. +There’s a watchman about.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” said I.</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t have got in to-night, but the misconducted +body’s asleep, though I’ll say it’s the first +time I saw him sleeping these four days. Eh, sirs! +there’s an awful indifference to responsibility, when a +man does a thing like yon. But it’ll be whisky, I’m +thinking; for I heard him at clishmaclavers with one +of these randy, drucken old Eirishers.”</p> + +<p>My blood boiled. “She was <i>not</i> drunk!” said I. +“And she’s—she’s a great friend of mine.”</p> + +<p>“Whisht! whisht, man! We’ll be heard. I ask +your pardon, I’m sure.”</p> + +<p>I made no reply. The Scotchman’s tone was unpleasantly +dry. Besides it was very difficult to give +vent to one’s just indignation in whispers, and I still +felt giddy, though I was resting my back against some +of the lumber, rather comfortably.<!-- Page 37 --></p> + +<p>“You’ll no be Eirish, yourself?” the Scotchman +asked in his own accent, which was as strong in its way +as Biddy’s.</p> + +<p>“I’m English,” I said.</p> + +<p>“Just so. And edyucated, I dare say?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so.”</p> + +<p>“Ye’ve not forgiven me that I wronged the old +lady? Indeed, but I ask your pardon, and hers no +less. It’s not for the best of us to sit in judgment on +the erring, as my mother has often said to me, unless +it comes in the plain path of duty. But maybe your +own temper would be a bit soored if your head was as +light and your heart as sick as mine with starvation +and hope deferred ——”</p> + +<p>“Are you hungry?” I interrupted.</p> + +<p>“I’ll not be sorry when we get a meal.”</p> + +<p>“What have you had to-day?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been in the dock all day,” he answered +evasively, “but I’m no great eater at the best of times, +and I chewed two bits of orange-peel, not to speak of +a handful of corn where there was a big heap had +been spilt by some wasteful body or another, that had +small thoughts of it’s coming to use. Now hoo in this +world’s a man to make honest profit on a commodity +he entrusts ——”</p> + +<p>“Sh! sh! You’re raising your voice again,” said I. +“Where’s your hand? It’s only a cake, but it’ll be +<!-- Page 38 -->better than nothing,” And I held out the cake Biddy +had made me put in my pocket.</p> + +<p>“I’ll no take it from ye. Keep it for your own +needs; I’m harder than yourself, it’s likely,” he said, +pushing my hand aside, and added almost peevishly, +“but keep the smell of it from me.”</p> + +<p>“I can spare it perfectly,” I whispered. “I’ve had +plenty to eat quite lately.”</p> + +<p>I shall never forget how he clutched it then. I +could hear his teeth clash with the eagerness of his +eating. It almost frightened me in the darkness.</p> + +<p>“Eh! man, that was good!” he gasped. “Are ye +sure indeed and in truth ye could spare it all? I +didn’t think they made such bannocks out of Scotland. +But we’ve much to learn in all matters, doubtless. +Thank ye a thousand times.”</p> + +<p>“The old Irishwoman gave it me!” I said with +some malice. “She made me put it in my pocket, +though she had given me a good meal before, for which +she would take nothing.”</p> + +<p>“It was leeberal of her,” said Alister Auchterlay. +“Verra leeberal; but there are good Christians to +be met with, amongst all sorts, there’s not a doot +aboot it.”</p> + +<p>I should probably have pursued my defence of +Biddy against this grudging—not to say insulting—tribute +to her charity, if I had not begun to feel too +<!-- Page 39 -->tired to talk, and very much teased by the heaving of +the vessel.</p> + +<p>“I wish the ship would be quiet till we start,” I +said. “We’re not at sea yet.”</p> + +<p>In reply to this Alister at some length, and with as +much emphasis as whispering permitted, explained to +me that a ship could not, in the nature of things, keep +still, except in certain circumstances, such as being in +dry dock for repairs or lying at anchor in absolutely +still water.</p> + +<p>“Good gracious!” I interrupted. “Of course I +know all that. You don’t suppose I expect it not +to move?”</p> + +<p>“I understood ye to say that ye wushed it,” he +replied with dignity, if not offence.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what I wish!” I moaned.</p> + +<p>My companion’s reply to this was to feel about for +me and then to begin scrambling over me; then he +said—“Move on, laddie, to your right, and ye’ll find +space to lie on the flat of your back, close by the ship’s +side. I’m feared you’re barely fit for the job ye’ve +undertaken, but ye’ll be easier if ye lie down, and +get some sleep.”</p> + +<p>I moved as he told me, and the relief of lying flat +was great—so great that I began to pull myself +together again, and made ready in my mind to thank +my unseen companion for the generosity with which he +<!-- Page 40 -->had evidently given me the place he had picked for +himself. But whilst I was thinking about it I fell fast +asleep.</p> + +<p>When I woke, for the first minute I thought I was +at home, and I could not conceive what Martha could +be doing, that there should be, as far as one could +hear, chimney-sweeping, cinder-riddling, furniture-moving, +clock-winding, and Spring-cleaning, of the +most awful nature, all going on at once, and in a +storm of yelling and scolding, which was no part +of our domestic ways. But in another minute I +knew where I was, and by the light coming through +a little round porthole above me, I could see my +companion.</p> + +<p>He was still sleeping, so that I could satisfy my +keen curiosity without rudeness. He had indeed +given up the only bit of space to me, and was himself +doubled up among lumber in a fashion that must +have been very trying to the length of his limbs. For +he was taller than I, though not, I thought, much +older; two years or so, perhaps. The cut of his +clothes (not their raggedness, though they were ragged +as well as patched) confirmed me in my conviction +that he was “not exactly a gentleman”; but I felt a +little puzzled about him, for, broad as his accent was, +he was even less exactly of the Tim Binder and Bob +Furniss class.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 41 -->He was not good-looking, and yet I hardly know +any word that would so fittingly describe his face in +the repose of sleep, and with that bit of light concentrated +upon it, as the word “noble.” It was +drawn and pinched with pain and the endurance +of pain, and I never saw anything so thin, except his +hands, which lay close to his sides—both clenched. +But I do think he would have been handsome if +his face had not been almost aggressively intelligent +when awake, and if his eyebrows and eyelashes had +had any colour. His hair was fair but not bright, and +it was straight without being smooth, and tossed +into locks that had no grace or curl. And why he +made me think of a Bible picture—Jacob lying +at the foot of the ladder to heaven, or something +of that sort—I could not tell, and did not puzzle +myself to wonder, for the ship was moving, and there +was a great deal to be seen out of the window, tiny as +it was.</p> + +<p>It looked on to the dock, where men were running +about in the old bewildering fashion. To-day it was +not so bewildering to me, because I could see that the +men were working with some purpose that affected our +vessel, though the directions in which they ran, dragging +ropes as thick as my leg, to the grinding of equally +monstrous chains, were as mysterious as the figures of +some dance one does not know. As to the noises +<!-- Page 42 -->they made, men and boys anywhere are given to help +on their work with sounds of some sort, but I could +not have believed in anything approaching to these, +out of a lunatic asylum, unless I had heard them.</p> + +<p>I could hear quite well, I could hear what was +said, and a great deal of it, I am sorry to say, would +have been better unsaid. But the orders which rang +out interested me, for I tried to fit them on to what +followed, though without much result. At last the +dock seemed to be moving away from me—I saw +men, but not the same men—and every man’s eye was +fixed on us. Then the thick brown rope just below +my window quivered like a bow-string, and tightened +(all the water starting from it in a sparkling shower) +till it looked as firm as a bar of iron, and I held on +tight, for we were swinging round. Suddenly the +voice of command sang out—(I fancied with a touch +of triumph in the tone)—“Let go the warp!” The +thick rope sprang into the air, and wriggled like a +long snake, and it was all I could do to help joining +in the shouts that rang from the deck above and from +the dock below. Then the very heart of the ship +began to beat with a new sound, and the Scotch lad +leaped like a deerhound to the window, and put his +arm round my shoulder, and whispered, “That’s the +screw, man! <i>we’re off</i>!”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 43 -->CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -8.9em;">“He that tholes o’ercomes.”</span><br /> +“Tak’ your venture, as mony a gude ship has done.”<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;"><i>Scotch Proverbs</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I am</span> disposed to think that a ship is a place where +one has occasional moments of excitement and enthusiasm +that are rare elsewhere, but that it is not to +be beaten (if approached) for the deadliness of the +despondency to be experienced therein.</p> + +<p>For perhaps a quarter of an hour after our start I +felt much excited, and so, I think, did my companion. +Shoulder to shoulder we were glued to the little round +window, pinching each other when the hurrying steps +hither and thither threatened to come down our way. +We did not talk much, we were too busy looking out, +and listening to the rushing water, and the throbbing +of the screw. The land seemed to slip quickly by, +countless ships, boats, and steamers barely gave us +time to have a look at them, though Alister (who +seemed to have learned a good deal during his four +days in the docks) whispered little bits of information +<!-- Page 44 -->about one and another. Then the whole shore seemed +to be covered by enormous sheds, and later on it got +farther off, and then the land lay distant, and it was +very low and marshy and most dreary-looking, and I +fancied it was becoming more difficult to keep my +footing at the window; and just when Alister had +been pointing out a queer red ship with one stumpy +mast crowned by a sort of cage, and telling me that it +was a light-ship, our own vessel began to creak and +groan worse than ever, and the floor under our feet +seemed to run away from them, and by the time you +had got used to going down, it caught you and +jerked you up again, till my head refused to think +anything about anything, and I half dropped and +was half helped by Alister on to the flat of my back +as before.</p> + +<p>As to him, I may as well say at once, that I never +knew him affected at sea by the roughest wind that +could blow, and he sat on a box and looked at me +half pityingly, and half, I suppose, with the sort of +curiosity I had felt about him.</p> + +<p>“I’m feared the life ‘ll be a bit over rough for ye,” +he said kindly. “Would ye think of going up and +disclosing yourself before we’re away from all chance +of getting ashore?”</p> + +<p>“No, no!” said I, vehemently, and added more +feebly, “I dare say I shall be all right soon.”<!-- Page 45 --></p> + +<p>“Maybe,” said the Scotchman.</p> + +<p>He went back to the window and gazed out, seeing, +I have no doubt, plenty to interest him; though +my eyes, if opened for a moment, only shrank back +and closed again instinctively, with feelings of indescribable +misery. So indefinite time went on, Alister +occasionally making whispered comments which I did +not hear, and did not trouble myself to ask questions +about, being utterly indifferent to the answers. But I +felt no temptation to give in, I only remember feeling +one intense desire, and it amounted to a prayer, that if +these intolerable sensations did not abate, I might at +any rate become master enough of them to do my +duty in their teeth. The thought made me more alert, +and when the Scotch lad warned me that steps were +coming our way, I implored him to hide deeper under +the sails, if he wished, without consideration for me, as +I had resolved to face my fate at once, and be either +killed or cured.</p> + +<p>“Thank ye kindly,” said Alister, “but there’s +small use in hiding now. They can but pitch us +overboard, and I’ve read that drowning is by far an +easier death than being starved, if ye come to +that.”</p> + +<p>It was in this frame of mind that a sailor found us, +and took us prisoners with so little difficulty that he +drew the scarcely fair conclusion that we were the +<!-- Page 46 -->cheekiest, coolest hands of all the nasty, sneaking, +longshore loafers he had ever had to deal with in all +his blessed and otherwise than blessed born days. +And wrathful as this outburst was, it was colourless to +the indignation in his voice, when (replying to some +questions from above) he answered,</p> + +<p>“Two on ’em!”</p> + +<p>Several other sailors came to the help of our +captor, and we were dragged up the ladder and on +deck, where the young Scotchman looked to better +advantage than down below, and where I made the +best presentment of myself that my miserable condition +would allow. We were soon hauled before the +captain, a sensible-faced, red-bearded man, with a +Scotch accent rather harsher than Alister’s, in which +he harangued us in very unflattering phrases for our +attempt to “steal a passage,” and described the evil +fate of which we were certain, if we did not work +uncommonly hard for our victuals.</p> + +<p>With one breath I and my companion asserted +our willingness to do anything, and that to get a free +passage as idlers was our last wish and intention. To +this, amid appreciating chuckles from the crew, the +captain replied, that, so sneaks and stowaways always +<i>said</i>; a taunt which was too vulgar as repartee to +annoy me, though I saw Alister’s thin hands clenching +at his sides. I don’t know if the captain did, but he +<!-- Page 47 -->called out—“Here! you lanky lad there, show your +hands.”</p> + +<p>“They’re no idle set,” said Alister, stretching them +out. He lifted his eyes as he said it, and I do not +think he could have repressed the flash in them to +save his life. Every detail of the scene was of breath-less +interest to me, and as I watched to see if the +captain took offence, I noticed that (though they were +far less remarkable from being buried in a fat and +commonplace countenance) his eyes, like Alister’s, +were of that bright, cold, sea-blue common among +Scotchmen. He did not take offence, and I believe I +was right in thinking that the boy’s wasted hands +struck him much as they had struck me.</p> + +<p>“Don’t speak unless I question you. How long +will ye have been hanging round the docks before ye’d +the impudence to come aboard here?”</p> + +<p>“I slept four nights in the docks, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And where did ye take your meals?”</p> + +<p>A flush crept over Alister’s bony face. “I’m no’ a +great eater, sir,” he said, with his eyes on the deck: +and then suddenly lifting a glance at me out of the +corner of them, he added, “The last I had was just +given me by a freen’.”</p> + +<p>“That’ll do. Put your hands down. Can you +sew?”</p> + +<p>“I ask your pardon, sir?”<!-- Page 48 --></p> + +<p>“Is the fool deaf? Can ye use a needle and +thread?”</p> + +<p>“After a rough fashion, sir, and I can knit a bit.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Waters?”</p> + +<p>A man with a gold band round his cap stepped +forward and touched it.</p> + +<p>“Take him to the sail-maker. He can help to +patch the old fore-stay-sail on the forecastle. And +you can ——”</p> + +<p>The rest of the order was in a low voice, but Mr. +Waters saluted again and replied, “Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>The captain saluted Mr. Waters, and then as +Alister moved off, he said, “You’re not sick, I see. +Have you sailed before?”</p> + +<p>“From Scotland, sir.”</p> + +<p>Whether, being a Scotchman himself, the tones of +Alister’s voice, as it lingered on the word “Scotland,” +touched a soft corner in the captain’s soul, or whether +the blue eyes met with an involuntary feeling of kinship, +or whether the captain was merely struck by +Alister’s powerful-looking frame, and thought he +might be very useful when he was better fed, I do not +know; but I feel sure that as he returned my new +comrade’s salute, he did so in a softened humour. +Perhaps this made him doubly rough to me, and I +have no doubt I looked as miserable an object as one +could (not) wish to see.<!-- Page 49 --></p> + +<p>“<i>You’re</i> sick enough,” he said; “stand straight, +sir! we don’t nurse invalids here, and if you stop +you’ll have to work for your food, whether you can +eat it or not.”</p> + +<p>“I will, sir,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Put out your hands.”</p> + +<p>I did, and he looked keenly, first at them, and +then, from head to foot, at me. And then to my +horror, he asked the question I had been asked by +the man who robbed me of my shilling.</p> + +<p>“Where did you steal your slops?”</p> + +<p>I hastened to explain. “A working-man, sir, in +Liverpool, who was kind enough to advise me, said +that I should have no chance of getting work on +board ship in the clothes I had on. So I exchanged +them, and got these, in a shop he took me to,” and +being anxious to prove the truth of my tale, and also +to speak with the utmost respect of everybody in this +critical state of my affairs, I added: “I don’t remember +the name of the street, sir, but the shop was +kept by a—by a Mr. Moses Cohen.”</p> + +<p>“By Mister—<i>who</i>?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Moses Cohen, sir.”</p> + +<p>When I first uttered the name, I fancied I heard +some sniggering among the sailors who still kept +guard over me, and this time the captain’s face +<!-- Page 50 -->wrinkled, and he turned to another officer standing +near him and repeated,</p> + +<p>“Mister Moses Cohen!” and they both burst into +a fit of laughter, which became a roar among the subordinates, +till the captain cried—“Silence there!” and +still chuckling sardonically, added, “Your suit must have +been a very spic and span one, young gentleman, if +<i>Mister</i> Moses Cohen accepted it in lieu of that rig out.”</p> + +<p>“I paid ten shillings as well,” said I.</p> + +<p>The laughter recommenced, but the captain looked +wrathful. “Oh, you paid ten shillings as well, did +you? And what the thunder and lightning have you +tried to steal a passage for when you’d money to pay +for one?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t mean to steal a passage, sir,” said I, +“and I don’t mean it now. I tried to get taken as a +sailor-lad, but they seemed to expect me to have been +to sea before, and to have some papers to show it. +So I stowed away, and I’m very sorry if you think it +dishonest, sir, but I meant to work for my passage, +and I will work hard.”</p> + +<p>“And what do you suppose an ignorant land-lubber +like you can do, as we don’t happen to be +short of public speakers?”</p> + +<p>“I thought I could clean things, and carry coals, +and do rough work till I learnt my trade, sir.”<!-- Page 51 --></p> + +<p>“Can you climb?” said the captain, looking at +the rigging.</p> + +<p>“I’ve never climbed on board ship, sir, but I was +good at athletics when I was at school, and I believe +I could.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see,” said the captain significantly. “And +supposing you’re of no use, and we kick ye overboard, +can ye swim?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, and dive. I’m at home in the +water.”</p> + +<p>“It’s more than you are <i>on</i> it. Bo’sun!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Take this accomplished young gentleman of +fortune, and give him something to do. Give him an +oil-rag and let him rub some of our brass, and stow +his own. And, bo’sun!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Take him first to Mr. Johnson, and say that I +request Mr. Johnson to ascertain how much change +Mister Moses Cohen has left him, and to take charge +of it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>The captain’s witticisms raised renewed chuckling +among the crew, as I followed the boatswain, duly +saluting my new master as I passed him, and desperately +trying to walk easily and steadily in my ordinary +boots upon the heaving deck.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 52 -->Mr. Johnson was the third mate, and I may as +well say at once that his shrewdness and kindness, his +untiring energy and constant cheerfulness, make his +memory very pleasant to me and to all who served +with him, and whose reasons for being grateful to +him belong to all hours of the day and night, and to +every department of our work and our play.</p> + +<p>I was far too giddy to hear what the boatswain +said to Mr. Johnson, but I was conscious that the +third mate’s eyes were scanning me closely as he +listened. Then he said, “<i>Have</i> you got any money, +youngster?”</p> + +<p>“Here, sir,” said I; and after some struggles I +got the leather bag from my neck, and Mr. Johnson +pocketed it.</p> + +<p>“Ran away from school, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>I tried to reply, and could not. Excitement had +kept me up before the captain, but the stress of it +was subsiding, and putting my arms up to get my +purse had aggravated the intense nausea that was +beginning to overpower me. I managed to shake my +head instead of speaking, after which I thought I +must have died then and there of the agony across my +brow. It seemed probable that I should go far to +pay for my passage by the amusement I afforded the +crew. Even Mr. Johnson laughed, as he said, “He +seems pretty bad. Look after him, and then let him +<!-- Page 53 -->try his hand on those stanchions—they’re disgraceful. +Show him how, and see that he lays on ——”</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And, bo’sun! don’t be too rough on him just +yet. We’ve all of us made our first voyage.”</p> + +<p>“Very true, sir.”</p> + +<p>I could have fallen at the man’s feet for those few +kind words, but his alert step had carried him far +away; and the boatswain had gripped me by the arm, +and landed me on a seat, before I could think of how +to express my thanks.</p> + +<p>“Stay where ye are, young stowaway,” said he, +“and I’ll fetch the oil and things. But don’t fall +overboard; for we can’t afford to send a hexpedition +on a voyage of discovery harter ye.”</p> + +<p>Off went the boatswain, and by the time he came +back with a bundle of brass rods under his arm, and +an old sardine-tin full of a mixture of oil, vinegar, and +sand, and a saturated fragment of a worn-out worsted +sock, I had more or less recovered from a violent +attack of sickness, and was trying to keep my teeth +from being chattered out of my aching head in the +fit of shivering that succeeded it.</p> + +<p>“Now, my pea-green beauty!” said he, “pull +yourself together, and bear a hand with this tackle. +I’ll carry the stanchions for you.” I jumped up, +thanked him, and took the oil-tin and etceteras, feel<!-- Page 54 -->ing +very grateful that he did carry the heavy brass rods +for me on to the poop, where I scrambled after him, +and after a short lesson in an art the secret of which +appeared to be to rub hard enough and long enough, +he left me with the pointed hint that the more I did +within the next hour or two, the better it would be +for me. “And <i>wicee the worser</i>—hif ye learnt what +<i>that</i> means when ye wos at school,” he added.</p> + +<p>Fully determined to do my best, I rubbed for the +dear life, my bones and teeth still shuddering as I +did so; but whatever virtue there was in my efforts +was soon its own reward, for the vigorous use of my +arms began to warm me, so greatly to the relief of +my headache and general misery, that I began to +hold myself up, and drink in the life-giving freshness +of the salt breezes with something that came quite +close to hope, and was not far off enjoyment. As to +the stanchions, I was downright proud of them, and +was rubbing away, brightening the brass, and getting +the blood comfortably circulated through my body, +when, with the usual running and shouting, a crowd of +men poured on to the poop with long-handled scrubbing-brushes +and big tubs, &c., followed by others +dragging a fire-hose. No time was lost in charging +the hose with water (a plentiful commodity!), and +this was squirted into every hole and cranny in all +directions, whilst the first lot of men rubbed and +<!-- Page 55 -->scrubbed and brushed most impartially all over the +place.</p> + +<p>I went quietly on with my work, but when the +stream threatened a group of stanchions, so highly +polished that I could not endure the notion of a speck +on their brightness, I lifted them out of harm’s way, +and with the clatter of this movement drew the +attention of the plier of the hose.</p> + +<p>“Why, bless my stars, garters, and hornaments of +hall sorts!” said he; “if ‘ere ain’t the young gentleman +of fortin on the poop deck in his Sunday +pumps!” and without more ado he let fly the water, +first at my feet and then upwards, till I was soused +from head to foot, and the scrubbers and swabbers +laughed at my gasps as I know I could not have +moved their sense of humour if I had had the finest +wit in the world. However, I suppose they had had +to take as well as give such merriment in their time; +and I keenly remember Biddy’s parting hint that the +“good-nature of my ways” would be my best friend +in this rough society. So I laughed and shook myself, +and turning up my sleeves to my elbows, and my +trousers to my knees, I also denuded myself of boots +and socks and put them aside.</p> + +<p>“Is this the correct fashion?” I inquired—a joke +which passed muster for very good humour; and I +was squirted at no more on that occasion. The chill +<!-- Page 56 -->had made me feel most miserable again, but I had +found by experience that the great thing was to keep +my blood circulating, and that rubbing-up the ship’s +brass answered this purpose exceedingly well. I +rubbed it so bright, that when the boatswain came to +summon me to dinner, he signified his approval in +his own peculiar fashion, which appeared to be that +of an acknowledged wit.</p> + +<p>“H’m!” said he, “I’ll say that for ye, young +shore-loafer, that you’ve learnt that the best part of +polishing-paste is elbow-grease. It wasn’t all <i>parley-voo</i> +and the pianner where you was at boarding-school!”</p> + +<p>I said I hoped not, and laughed as respectfully +as it becomes the small to do at the jokes of the +great.</p> + +<p>But when I was fairly squatted in a corner of the +forecastle, with my plate on my lap, in friendly proximity +to Alister, I received a far worse shock than the +ship’s hose had given me. For under cover of the +sailors’ talk (and they were even noisier at their dinner +than at their work) my comrade contrived to whisper +in my ear, “The pilot is still on board.”</p> + +<p>I got what comfort I could out of hearing the +sail-maker praise Alister as “an uncommon handy +young chap,” a compliment which he enforced by a +general appeal to some one to “give him” a lad that +<!-- Page 57 -->had been brought up to make himself useful, and +anybody else was welcome “for him” to fine gentlemen +with no learning but school learning. For this +side attack on me roused the boatswain to reproduce +his jokes about elbow-grease <i>versus parley-voo</i> and the +<i>pianner</i>, and to add a general principle on his own +account to the effect that it was nothing to him if a +lad had been “edicated” in a young ladies’ boarding-school, +so long as he’d been taught to rub brass till +you could “see something more of your face than +thumbmarks in it.” The general and satisfactory +conclusion being (so I hoped) that we were neither of +us quite useless, and might possibly be spared the +ignominy of a return voyage with the pilot.</p> + +<p>About an hour and a half after dinner, when I was +“rubbing-up” some “bright things” in the cook’s +galley, Alister looked in, and finding me alone, said, +“Would ye dare to come on deck? We’re passing +under bonny big rocks, with a lighthouse perched up +on the height above our heads, for all the world like +a big man keeping his outlook with glowering eyes.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I dare,” said I. “The cook told +me not to stir till these were done. Are we going +slower? That pumping noise is slower than it was, +I’m sure.”</p> + +<p>“We are so,” said Alister; “I’m wondering if—” +He ran out without finishing his sentence, but +<!-- Page 58 -->soon returned with a face rather more colourless than +usual with repressed excitement. “Jack!” he gasped, +“they’re lowering a boat. <i>The pilots going ashore</i>”.</p> + +<p>He remained with me now, sitting with his head +on his hands. Suddenly a shout of two or three +voices from the water was answered by a hearty cheer +from the deck. By one impulse, Alister and I sprang +to our feet and gripped each other by the hand; and +I do not believe there were any two sailors on board +who sped the parting pilot with more noise than we +two made in the cook’s galley.</p> + +<p>It was gloriously true. They had kept us both. +But, though I have no doubt the captain would have +got rid of us if we had proved feckless, I think our +being allowed to remain was largely due to the fact +that the vessel had left Liverpool short of her full +complement of hands. Trade was good at the time, +and one man who had joined had afterwards deserted, +and another youngster had been taken to hospital +only the day before we sailed. He had epileptic fits, +and though the second mate (whose chief quality +seemed to be an impartial distrust of everybody but +himself, and a burning desire to trip up his fellow-creatures +at their weak points and jump upon them +accordingly) expressed in very strong language his +wish that the captain had not sent the lad off, but had +kept him for him (the second mate) to cure, the crew +<!-- Page 59 -->seemed all of opinion that there was no “shamming” +about it, and that the epileptic sailor-boy would only +have fallen from one of the yards in a fit, and given +more trouble than his services were worth over picking +him up.</p> + +<p>The afternoon was far from being as fine as the +morning had been. Each time I turned my eyes that +way it seemed to me that the grey sea was looking +drearier and more restless, but I stuck steadily to +some miscellaneous and very dirty work that I had +been put to down below; and, as the ship rolled more +and more under me, as I ran unsteadily about with +buckets and the like, I began to wonder if this was +the way storms came, gradually on, and whether, if the +ship went down to-night “with all on board,” I should +find courage to fit my fate.</p> + +<p>I was meditating gloomily on this subject, when I +heard a shrill whistle, and then a series of awful +noises, at the sound of which every man below left +whatever he was at, and rushed on deck. I had read +too many accounts of shipwrecks not to know that +the deck is the place to make for, so I bolted with +the rest, and caught sight of Alister flying in the same +direction as we were. When we got up I looked +about me as well as I could, but I saw no rocks or +vessels in collision with us. The waves were not +breaking over us, but four or five men standing on the +<!-- Page 60 -->bulwarks were pulling things like monstrous grubs out +of a sort of trough, and chucking them with more or +less accuracy at the heads of the sailors who gathered +round.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Alister?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“It’s just the serving out of the hammocks that +they sleep in,” Alister replied. “I’m thinking we’ll +not be entitled to them.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that fellow yelling about?”</p> + +<p>“He’s crying to them to respond to their names +and numbers. Whisht, man! till I hear his unchristian +lingo and see if he cries on us.”</p> + +<p>But in a few minutes the crowd had dispersed, and +the hammock-servers with them, and Alister and I +were left alone. I felt foolish, and I suppose looked +so, for Alister burst out laughing and said—“Hech, +laddie! it’s a small matter. We’ll find a corner to +sleep in. And let me tell ye I’ve tried getting into +a hammock myself, and ——”</p> + +<p>“Hi! you lads!”</p> + +<p>In no small confusion at having been found idle +and together, we started to salute the third mate, who +pointed to a sailor behind him, and said—“Follow +Francis, and he’ll give you hammocks and blankets, +and show you how to swing and stow them.”</p> + +<p>We both exclaimed—“Thank you, sir!” with +such warmth that as he returned our renewed salu<!-- Page 61 -->tations +he added—“I hear good accounts of both of +you. Keep it up, and you’ll do.”</p> + +<p>Alister’s sentence had been left unfinished, but I +learnt the rest of it by experience. We scrambled +down after Francis till we seemed to be about the +level where we had stowed away. I did not feel any +the better for the stuffiness of the air and an abominable +smell of black beetles, but I stumbled along till +we arrived in a very tiny little office where the purser +sat surrounded by bags of ships’ biscuits (which they +pleasantly call “bread” at sea) and with bins of +sugar, coffee, &c., &c. I dare say the stuffiness made +him cross (as the nasty smells used to make us in +Uncle Henry’s office), for he used a good deal of +bad language, and seemed very unwilling to let us +have the hammocks and blankets. However, Francis +got them and banged us well with them before giving +them to us to carry. They were just like the others—canvas-coloured +sausages wound about with tarred +rope; and warning us to observe how they were +fastened up, as we should have to put them away +“ship-shape” the following morning, Francis helped +us to unfasten and “swing” them in the forecastle. +There were hooks in the beams, so that part of the +business was easy enough, but, when bedtime came, I +found that getting into my hammock was not as easy +as getting it ready to get into.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 62 -->The sail-maker helped Alister out of his difficulties +at once, by showing him how to put his two hands +in the middle of his hammock and wriggle himself +into it and roll his blankets round him in seaman-like +fashion. But my neighbours only watched with +delight when I first sent my hammock flying by trying +to get in at the side as if it were a bed, and then sent +myself flying out on the other side after getting in. +As I picked myself up I caught sight of an end of +thick rope hanging from a beam close above my +hammock, and being a good deal nettled by my own +stupidity and the jeers of the sailors, I sprang at the +rope, caught it, and swinging myself up, I dropped +quietly and successfully into my new resting-place. +Once fairly in and rolled in my blanket, I felt as snug +as a chrysalis in his cocoon, and (besides the fact that +lying down is a great comfort to people who are not +born with sea-legs) I found the gentle swaying of my +hammock a delightful relief from the bumping, jumping, +and jarring of the ship. I said my prayers, which +made me think of my mother, and cost me some +tears in the privacy of darkness; but, as I wept, there +came back the familiar thought that I had “much +to be thankful for,” and I added the General Thanksgiving +with an “especially” in the middle of it (as we +always used to have when my father read prayers at +home, after anything like Jem and me getting well +<!-- Page 63 -->of scarlet fever, or a good harvest being all +carried).</p> + +<p>I got all through my “especially,” and what with +thinking of the workman, and dear old Biddy, and +Alister, and Mr. Johnson, and the pilot, it was a very +long one; and I think I finished the Thanksgiving +and said the Grace of our <span class="smcap">Lord</span> after it. But I +cannot be quite sure, for it was such a comfort to be +at peace, and the hammock swung and rocked till it +cradled me to sleep.</p> + +<p>A light sleep, I suppose, for I dreamed very +vividly of being at home again, and that I had +missed getting off to sea after all; and that the ship +had only been a dream. I thought I was rather sorry +it was not real, because I wanted to see the world, +but I was very glad to be with Jem, and I thought he +and I went down to the farm to look for Charlie, and +they told us he was sitting up in the ash-tree at +the end of the field. In my dream I did not feel at +all surprised that Cripple Charlie should have got +into the ash-tree, or at finding him there high up +among the branches looking at a spider’s web with a +magnifying-glass. But I thought that the wind was +so high I could not make him hear, and the leaves +and boughs tossed so that I could barely see him; +and when I climbed up to him, the branch on which +I sat swayed so deliciously that I was quite content +<!-- Page 64 -->to rock myself and watch Charlie in silence, when +suddenly it cracked, and down I came with a hard +bang on my back.</p> + +<p>I woke and sat up, and found that the latter part +of my dream had come true, as a lump on the back +of my head bore witness for some days. Francis had +playfully let me down “with a run by the head,” as it +is called; that is, he had undone my hammock-cord +and landed me on the floor. He left Alister in +peace, and I can only think of two reasons for his +selecting me for the joke. First that the common +sailors took much more readily to Alister from his +being more of their own rank in birth and upbringing, +though so vastly superior by education. And +secondly, that I was the weaker of the two; for what +I have seen of the world has taught me that there +are plenty of strong people who will not only let the +weaker go to the wall, but who find an odd satisfaction +in shoving and squeezing them there.</p> + +<p>However, if I was young and sea-sick, I was not +quite helpless, happily; I refastened my hammock, +and got into it again, and being pretty well tired out +by the day’s work, I slept that sleep of the weary +which knows no dream.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 65 -->CHAPTER V.</h3> + + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -1.3em;">“Yet more! The billows and the depths have more:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -0.9em;">High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.4em;">* * * * * * * *</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.1em;">Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Give back the true and brave!”—<span class="smcap">Felicia Hemans</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“To them their duty was clear, and they did it successfully; +and the history of the island is written briefly in that little formula!”—<i>Daily +Telegraph</i>, Dec. 5, 1878.</p></div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I did</span> not feel as if I had been asleep five minutes, +when I was rudely awakened, of course by noise, +whistling, and inarticulate roaring, and I found that +it was morning, and that the boatswain’s mate was +“turning the hands up” to wash decks. Alister was +ready, and I found that my toilet was, if possible, +shorter than at Snuffy’s in winter.</p> + +<p>“We puts hon our togs fust, and takes our +shower-baths harterwards,” the boatswain humorously +explained, as he saw me trying to get the very +awkward collar of my “slops” tidy as I followed +with the crowd.</p> + +<p>The boatswain was a curious old fellow. He was +<!-- Page 66 -->born in London, “within sound of Bow bells,” as he +told me; but though a Cockney by birth, he could +hardly be called a native of anywhere but the world +at large. He had sailed in all seas, and seemed to +have tried his hand at most trades. He had at one +time been a sort of man-of-all-work in a boys’ school, +and I think it was partly from this, and partly out of +opposition to the sail-maker, that he never seemed to +grudge my not having been born a poor person, or to +fancy I gave myself airs (which I never did), or to +take a pleasure in making me feel the roughest edge +of the menial work I had to do, like so many of the +men. But he knew very well just where things did +feel strangest and hardest to me, and showed that he +knew it by many a bit of not unkindly chaff.</p> + +<p>His joke about the shower-bath came very strictly +true to me. We were all on the main deck, bare-armed +and bare-legged, mopping and slopping and +swabbing about in the cold sea-water, which was +liberally supplied to us by the steam-pump and +hose. I had been furnished with a <i>squeegee</i> (a sort of +scraper made of india-rubber at the end of broom-stick), +and was putting as much “elbow-grease” into +my work as renewed sea-sickness left me strength for, +when the boatswain’s mate turned the hose upon me +once more. I happened to be standing rather loosely, +and my thoughts had flown home on the wings of a +<!-- Page 67 -->wonder what Martha would think of this way of +scrubbing a floor—all wedded as the domestic mind +is to hairy flannel and sticky soap and swollen knees,—when +the stream of sea-water came in full force +against my neck, and I and my squeegee went head-over-heels +into the lee scuppers. It was the boatswain +himself who picked me out, and who avenged +me on his subordinate by a round of abuse which it +was barely possible to follow, so mixed were the +metaphors, and so cosmopolitan the slang.</p> + +<p>On the whole I got on pretty well that day, and +began to get accustomed to the motion of the ship, +in spite of the fact that she rolled more than on the +day before. The sky and sea were grey enough when +we were swabbing the decks in the early morning; as +the day wore on, they only took the deeper tints of +gathering clouds which hid the sun.</p> + +<p>If the weather was dull, our course was not less +so. We only saw one ship from the deck, a mail-steamer, +as neat and trim as a yacht, which passed +us at a tremendous pace, with a knot of officers on +the bridge. Some black objects bobbing up and +down in the distance were pointed out to me as +porpoises, and a good many sea-gulls went by, flying +landwards. Not only was the sky overcast, but the +crew seemed to share the depression of the barometer, +which, as everybody told everybody else, was +<!-- Page 68 -->falling rapidly. The captain’s voice rang out in brief +but frequent orders, and the officers clustered in knots +on the bridge, their gold cap-bands gleaming against +the stormy sky.</p> + +<p>I worked hard through the day, and was sick off +and on as the ship rolled, and the great green waves +hit her on the bows, and ran away along her side, +and the wind blew and blew, and most of the sails +were hauled in and made fast, and one or two were +reefed up close, and the big chimney swayed, and the +threatening clouds drifted forwards at a different pace +from our own, till my very fingers felt giddy with +unrest; but not another practical joke did I suffer +from that day, for every man’s hand was needed for +the ship.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon she had rolled so heavily in the +trough of the large waves, that no one made any +pretence of finding his sea-legs strong enough to +keep him steady without clutching here and there for +help, and I had been thankful, in a brief interval +when nobody had ordered me to do anything, to +scramble into a quiet corner of the forecastle and lie +on the boards, rolling as the ship rolled, and very +much resigned to going down with her if she chose +to go.</p> + +<p>Towards evening it was thick and foggy, but as +the sun set it began to clear, and I heard the men +<!-- Page 69 -->saying that the moon (which was nearly at the full) +would make a clear night of it. It was unquestionably +clearer overhead, and the waves ran smoother, +as if the sea were recovering its temper, and Alister +and I went below at 9 P.M. and turned into our +hammocks for a few hours’ sleep, before taking our +part in the night-watch that lasts from 12 midnight +till 4 A.M.</p> + +<p>It is astonishing what a prompt narcotic the +knowledge that you’ll have to be up again in an +hour or two is. Alister and I wasted no time in +conversation. He told me the fall in the barometer +was “by-ordinar” (which I knew as well as he); and +I told him the wind was undoubtedly falling (which +he knew as well as I): and after this inevitable interchange +of the uppermost news and anxieties of the +occasion, we bade <span class="smcap">God</span> bless each other, and I said +the prayers of my babyhood because they were +shortest, and fell fast asleep.</p> + +<p>The noises that woke us were new noises, but +they made up the whole of that peculiar sound which +is the sum of human excitement. “We are going +down this time,” was my thought, and I found myself +less philosophical about it than I had imagined. +Neither Alister nor I were long in putting on our +clothes, and we rushed up on deck without exchanging +a word. By the time we got there, where +<!-- Page 70 -->the whole ship’s crew had gone before us, we were as +wildly excited as any one of them, though we had +not a notion what it was all about. I knew enough +now for the first glance to tell me that the ship was in +no special danger. Even I could tell that the gale +had gone down, the night was clear, and between the +scudding of black clouds with silver linings, the +moon and stars shone very beautifully, though it +made one giddy to look at them from the weird way +in which the masts and yards seemed to whip across +the sky.</p> + +<p>We still rolled, and when the side of the ship +went up, it felt almost overhead, and I could see +absolutely nothing of the sea, which was vexatious, +as that was obviously the point of interest. The +rigging on that side was as full of men as a bare +garden-tree might be of sparrows, and all along +the lee bulwarks they sat and crouched like sea-birds +on a line of rock. Suddenly we rolled, +down went the leeside, and I with it, but I caught +hold of the lowest step of the forecastle ladder and +sat fast. Then as we dipped I saw all that they +were seeing from the masts and rigging—the yet +restless sea with fast-running waves, alternately inky +black, and of a strange bright metallic lead-colour, +on which the scud as it drove across the moon +made queer racing shadows. And it was on this +<!-- Page 71 -->stormy sea that every eye from the captain’s to the +cook’s was strained.</p> + +<p>Roll! down we went again to starboard, and up +went the bulwarks and I could see nothing but the +sky and the stars, and the masts and yards whipping +across them as before, though the excitement grew +till I could bear it no longer, and scrambled up +the ladder on to the forecastle, and pushed my +way to the edge and lay face downwards, holding +on for my life that I might not be blown away, +whilst I was trying to see what was to be seen.</p> + +<p>I found myself by Alister once more, and he +helped me to hold on, and pointed where every +one else was pointing. There was a lull in the +eager talking of the men, and the knot of captain +and the officers on the bridge stood still, and Alister +roared through the wind into my ear—“Bide a wee, +the moon ’ll be out again.”</p> + +<p>I waited, and the cloud passed from her face or +she sailed from beneath it, and at the same instant +I saw a streak of light upon the water in which a +black object bobbed up and down as the porpoises +had bobbed, and all the men burst out again, and +a crowd rushed up on to the forecastle.</p> + +<p>“It’s half-a-mile aft.”—“A bit of wreck.”—“An +old sugar hogshead.”—“The emperor of the +porpoises.”—“Is it the sea sarpint ye’re maning?”—<!-- Page 72 -->“Will +hany gentleman lend me ’is hopera-glass?”—“I’m +blessed if I don’t think we’re going to go +half speed. I sailed seven years in the <i>Amiable</i> with +old Savage, and I’m blessed if he ever put her a +point out of her course for anything. ‘Every boat +for herself, and the sea for us all,’ he used to say, +and allus kept his eyes forwards in foul weather.”—“Aisy, +Tom, aisy, ye’re out of it entirely. It’s +the Humane Society’s gold medal we’ll all be +getting for saving firewood.”—“Stow your jaw, Pat, +<i>that’s</i> not wreck, it’s—”</p> + +<p>At this moment the third mate’s voice rang +through the ship—</p> + +<p>“A boat bottom up!”</p> + +<p>The men passed from chaff to a silence whose +eagerness could be felt, through which another +voice came through the wind from the poop—“<i>there’s +something on her</i>!” and I turned that way, +and saw the captain put down his glass, and put +his hand to his mouth; and when he sang out +“<span class="smcap">A MAN</span>!” we all sprang to our feet, and opened +our lips, but the boatswain put up his hand, and +cried, “Silence, fore and aft! Steady, lads! Look +to the captain!”</p> + +<p>The gold cap-bands glittered close together, and +then, clear to be seen in a sudden gleam of moonlight, +the captain leaned forward and shouted to the +<!-- Page 73 -->crew, “Fo’cs’le there!” And they sang out, “Aye, +aye, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Volunteers for the whaleboat!”</p> + +<p>My heart was beating fast enough, but I do not +think I could have counted a dozen throbs, before, +with a wild hurrah, every man had leaped from +the forecastle, Alister among them, and I was left +alone.</p> + +<p>I was just wondering if I could possibly be of +use, when I heard the captain’s voice again. (He +had come down, and was where the whaleboat was +hanging, which, I learned, was fitted like a lifeboat, +and the crew were crowding round him.)</p> + +<p>“Steady, lads! Stand back. Come as you’re +called. Thunder and lightning, we want to man +the boat, not sink her. Mr. Johnson!”</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, sir!”</p> + +<p>“A! B! C! D!” &c.</p> + +<p>“Here, sir!” “Here, sir!” “Here, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Fall back there! Thank you all, my lads, but +she’s manned.”</p> + +<p>A loud cheer drowned every other sound, and I +saw men busy with the boat, and Alister coming +back with a dejected air, and the captain jumping +up and down, and roaring louder than the wind: +“Steward! rum, and a couple of blankets. Look +sharp. Stand back; in you go; steady! Now, +<!-- Page 74 -->mind what I say; I shall bear up towards the +boat. Hi, there! Stand by the lowering-tackle, +and when I say ‘Now!’ lower away handsomely +and steadily. Are you ready, Mr. Johnson? Keep +steady, all, and fend her off well when you touch +the water. Mr. Waters! let her go off a point or +two to the north’ard. Half speed; port a little—steady! +All ready in the boat?”</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, sir!”</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">God</span> bless you. Steady—ready—Now!”</p> + +<p>I hardly know which more roused my amazement +and admiration—the behaviour of the men or the +behaviour of the whaleboat. Were these alert and +silent seamen, sitting side by side, each with his +oar held upright in his hand, and his eyes upon +his captain, the rowdy roughs of the forecastle? +And were those their like companions who crowded +the bulwarks, and bent over to cheer, and bless, +and <i>envy</i> them?</p> + +<p>As to boats—the only one I had been accustomed +to used to be launched on the canal with scraping +and shoving, and struggling and balancing, and +we did occasionally upset her—but when the captain +gave the word, the ship’s whaleboat and its +crew were smoothly lowered by a patent apparatus +till it all but touched the big black waves that ran +and roared at it. Then came a few moments of +<!-- Page 75 -->intense anxiety till the boat was fairly clear of the +ship; but even when it was quite free, and the men +bending to their oars, I thought more than once +that it had gone down for ever on the other side +of the hills and dales of water which kept hiding +it completely from all except those who were high +up upon the masts. It was a relief when we +could see it, miserable speck as it looked, and +we all strained our eyes after it, through many +difficulties from the spiteful ways of the winds and +waves and clouds, which blinded and buffeted and +drenched us when we tried to look, and sent black +veils of shadow to hide our comrades from our +eyes. In the teeth of the elements, however, the +captain was bearing up towards the other boat, and +it was now and then quite possible to see with +the naked eye that she was upside down, and that +a man was clinging to her keel. At such glimpses +an inarticulate murmur ran through our midst, but +for the most part we, who were only watching, +were silent till the whaleboat was fairly alongside +of the object of her gallant expedition. Then by +good luck the moon sailed forth and gave us a fair +view, but it was rather a disappointing one, for the +two boats seemed to do nothing but bob about like +two burnt corks in the moonlight, and we began to +talk again.<!-- Page 76 --></p> + +<p>“What’s she doing?”—“The <span class="smcap">Lord</span> knows!”—“Something’s +gone wrong.”—“Why doesn’t she go +nearer?”—“’Cos she’d be stove in, ye fool!”—“Gude +save us! they’re both gone.”—“Not they, +they’re to the left; but what the winds and waves +they’re after ——”—“They’re trying to make him +hear, likely enough, and they might as well call on +my grandmother. He’s as dead as a herring.”—“Whisht! +whisht! He’s a living soul! Hech, sirs! +there’s nought but the grip o’ despair would haud +a man on the keel of ’s boat in waves like yon,”—“Silence, +all!”</p> + +<p>We turned our heads, for a voice rang from the +look-out—</p> + +<p>“Man overboard from the whaleboat!”</p> + +<p>The men were so excited, and crowded so +together, that I could hardly find a peeping-place.</p> + +<p>“He’s got him.”—“Nay, they’re both gone.”—“Man! +I’m just thinking that it’s ill interfering +with the designs of Providence. We may lose +Peter and not save Paul.”—“Stow your discourses, +Sandy!”—“They’re hauling in our man, and time +they did.”</p> + +<p>The captain’s voice now called to the first mate—</p> + +<p>“Do you make it one or both, Mr. Waters?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Both</i>, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Thank <span class="smcap">God</span>!”</p> + +<p><!-- Page 77 -->We hurrahed again, and the whaleboat-men +replied—but their cheer only came faintly to us, +like a wail upon the wind.</p> + +<p>Several men of our group were now called to +work, and I was ordered below to bring up a +hammock, and swing it in the steerage. I was +vexed, as I would have given anything to have +helped to welcome the whaleboat back.</p> + +<p>When the odd jobs I had been called to were +done with, and I returned to the deck, it was just +too late to see her hauled up. I could not see +over the thick standing group of men, and I did +not, of course, dare to push through them to catch +sight of our heroes and the man they had saved. +But a little apart from the rest, two Irish sailors +were standing and bandying the harshest of brogues +with such vehemence that I drew near, hoping at +least to hear something of what I could not see. +It was a spirited, and one would have guessed an +angry dialogue, so like did it sound to the yapping +and snapping of two peppery-tempered terriers. But +it was only vehement, and this was the sum of it.</p> + +<p>“Bedad! but it’s quare ye must have felt at the +time.”</p> + +<p>“I did not, unless it would be when Tom +stepped out into the water, <span class="smcap">God</span> bless him! with +the rope aisy round his waist, and the waves +<!-- Page 78 -->drowning him intirely, and the corpse holding on +to the boat’s bottom for the dear life.”</p> + +<p>“Pat!” said the other in mysterious tones, +“would that that’s hanging round his neck be the +presarving of him, what?”</p> + +<p>“And why wouldn’t it? But isn’t he the big +fool to be having it dangling where the wash of a +wave, or a pickpocket, or a worse timptation than +either might be staling it away from him?”</p> + +<p>“And where else would he put it?”</p> + +<p>“Did ye ever git the sight of mine?”</p> + +<p>“I did not.”</p> + +<p>“On the back of me?”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“Look here, now!” cried Pat, in the tones of +one whose patience was entirely exhausted. His +friend drew nearer, and I also ventured to accept an +invitation not intended for me, so greatly was my +curiosity roused by what the men said.</p> + +<p>Pat turned his back to us as rapidly as he had +spoken, and stooping at about half-leap-frog-angle, +whipped his wet shirt upwards out of his loosely-strapped +trousers, baring his back from his waist to +his shoulder-blades. The moon was somewhat overcast, +but there was light enough for us to see a +grotesque semblance of the Crucifixion tattooed upon +his flesh in more than one colour, and some accom<!-- Page 79 -->panying +symbols and initials which we could hardly +distinguish.</p> + +<p>“Now am I safe for Christian burial or not, in +the case I’d be misfortunate enough to be washed up +on the shores of a haythen counthry?”</p> + +<p>“Ye are so!”</p> + +<p>I never saw a funnier sight than Pat craning and +twisting his head in futile efforts to look at it under +his own arm.</p> + +<p>“It’s a foin piece of work, I’m told,” said he.</p> + +<p>“They tould ye no less than the truth that said +that, Pat. It’s a mighty foin piece of work.”</p> + +<p>“They all say so that see it,” sighed Pat, tucking +his shirt in again, “and that’ll be ivry soul but meself, +worse luck!”</p> + +<p>“Shaughnessey!”</p> + +<p>“Sir!”</p> + +<p>Pat ran off, and as I turned I saw that the crew +of the whaleboat were going below with a crowd of +satellites, and that a space was cleared through which +I could see the man they had saved still lying on the +deck, with the captain kneeling at his head, and +looking back as if he were waiting for something. +And at that moment the moon shone out once more, +and showed me a sight that I’ll forget when I forget +you—Dennis O’Moore!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><!-- Page 80 -->It was a lad that they had saved, not a full-grown +man, except in the sense of his height, which was +nearly an inch beyond Alister’s. He was insensible, +and I thought he was dead, so death-like was the +pallor of his face in contrast with the dark curls of his +head and the lashes of his closed eyes. We were +dipping to leeward, his head rolled a little on the +rough pillow that had been heaped to raise him, and +his white face against the inky waves reminded me of +the face of the young lord in Charlie’s father’s church, +who died abroad, and a marble figure of him was +sent home from Italy, with his dog lying at his feet. +His shoulders were raised as well as his head, and his +jacket and shirt had both been washed open by the +waves.</p> + +<p>And that was how I got the key to the Irishmen’s +dialogue. For round the lad’s throat was a black +ribbon, pendant from which a small cross of ebony +was clear to be seen upon his naked breast; and on +this there glittered in the moonlight a silver image of +the Redeemer of the World.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 81 -->CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -2.4em;">“Why, what’s that to you, if my eyes I’m a wiping?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -5.5em;">A tear is a pleasure, d’ye see, in its way;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -4.3em;">‘Tis nonsense for trifles, I own, to be piping,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -4.9em;">But they that ha’n’t pity, why I pities they.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.4em;">* * * * * * * *</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -0.8em;">The heart and the eyes, you see feel the same motion,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.1em;">And if both shed their drops, ’tis all the same end;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -4em;">And thus ’tis that every tight lad of the ocean</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">Sheds his blood for his country, his tears for his friend.”</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><span class="smcap">Charles Dibdin</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">If</span> one wants to find the value of all he has learned +in the way of righteousness, common-sense, and real +skill of any sort; or to reap most quickly what he has +sown to obedience, industry, and endurance, let him +go out and rough it in the world.</p> + +<p>There he shall find that a conscience early trained +to resist temptation and to feel shame will be to him +the instinctive clutch that may now and again—in an +ungraceful, anyhow fashion—keep him from slipping +down to perdition, and save his soul alive. There he +shall find that whatever he has really learned by labour +<!-- Page 82 -->or grasped with inborn talent, will sooner or later +come to the surface to his credit and for his good; +but that what he swaggers will not even find fair play. +There, in brief, he shall find his level—a great matter +for most men. There, in fine, he will discover that +there being a great deal of human nature in all men, +and a great deal that is common to all lives—if he +has learned to learn and is good-natured withal, he +may live pretty comfortably anywhere—</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">“As a rough rule,</span><br /> +The rough world’s a good school,”—<br /> +</p> + +<p>and if there are a few parlour-boarders it is very little +advantage to them.</p> + +<p>For my own part I was almost startled to find how +quickly I was beginning to learn something of the +ways of the ship and her crew; and though, when I +asked for information about all the various appliances +which come under the comprehensive sea-name of +“tackle,” I was again and again made the victim of +a hoax, I soon learned to correct one piece of information +by another, and to feel less of an April fool +and more of a sailor. Reading sea-novels had not +really taught me much, for there was not one in all +that the Jew-clerk lent or sold me which <i>explained</i> +ship’s language and customs. But the school-master +had given me many useful hints, and experience soon +taught me how to apply them.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 83 -->The watch in which Alister and I shared just after +we picked up Dennis O’Moore, was naturally very +much enlivened by news and surmises regarding our +new “hand.” Word soon came up from below that +he was alive and likely to recover, and for a brief +period I found my society in great request, because I +had been employed in some fetching and carrying +between the galley and the steerage, and had “heard +the drowned man groan.” We should have gossiped +more than we did if the vessel had not exacted unusual +attention, for the winds and the waves had +“plenty of mischief in ‘em” yet, as I was well able +to testify when I was sent aft to help the man at the +wheel.</p> + +<p>“That’ll take the starch out o’ yer Sunday stick-ups!” +said the boatswain’s mate, on hearing where I +was bound for, when he met me clinging to the wet +deck with my stocking-feet, and catching with my +hands at every bit of tackle capable of giving support. +And as I put out all my strength to help the steersman +to force his wheel in the direction he meant it to +go, and the salt spray smacked my face and soaked +my slops, and every wind of heaven seemed to blow +down my neck and up my sleeves and trousers—I +heartily agreed with him.</p> + +<p>The man I was helping never spoke, except to +shout some brief order into my ear or an occasional +<!-- Page 84 -->reply to the words of command which rang over our +heads from the captain on the bridge. Of course I +did not speak, I had quite enough to do to keep my +footing and take my small part in this fierce bitting +and bridling of the elements; but uncomfortable as +it was, I “took a pride and pleasure in it,” as we used +to say at home, and I already felt that strenuous +something which blows in sea-breezes and gives vigour +to mind and body even when it chills you to the bone.</p> + +<p>That is, to some people; there are plenty of men, +as I have since discovered, who spend their lives at +sea and hate it to the end. Boy and man, they do +their hard duty and live by its pitiful recompense. +They know the sea as well as other mariners, are used +to her uncertain ways, bear her rough usage, control +her stormy humours, learn all her moods, and <i>never +feel her charm</i>.</p> + +<p>I have seen two such cases, and I have heard of +more, yarned with all their melancholy details during +those night watches in which men will tell you the ins +and outs of many a queer story that they “never talk +about.” And it has convinced me that there is no +more cruel blunder than to send a boy to sea, if there +is good reason to believe that he will never like it; +unless it be that of withholding from its noble service +those sailor lads born, in whose ears the sea-shell will +murmur till they die.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 85 -->It had murmured in mine, and enticed me to my +fate. I thought so now that I knew the roughest of +the other side of the question, just as much as when +I sat comfortably on the frilled cushion of the round-backed +arm-chair and read the Penny Numbers to +the bee-master. Barefoot, bareheaded, cold, wet, +seasick, hard worked and half-rested, would I even +now exchange the life I had chosen for the life I had +left?—for the desk next to the Jew-clerk, for the +partnership, to be my uncle’s heir, to be mayor, to be +member? I asked myself the question as I stood by +the steersman, and with every drive of the wheel I +answered it—“No, Moses! No! No!”</p> + +<p>It is not wise to think hard when you are working +hard at mechanical work, in a blustering wind and a +night watch. Fatigue and open air make you sleepy, +and thinking makes you forget where you are, and if +your work is mechanical you do it unconsciously, and +may fall asleep over it. I dozed more than once, and +woke with the horrible idea that I had lost my hold, +and was not doing my work. That woke me effectually, +but even then I had to look at my hands to see +that they were there. I pushed, but I could not feel, +my fingers were so numb with cold.</p> + +<p>The second time I dozed and started again, I +heard the captain’s voice close beside us. He was +bawling upwards now, to Mr. Waters on the bridge. +<!-- Page 86 -->Then he pushed me on one side and took my place +at the wheel, shouting to the steersman—“I meant +the Scotch lad, not that boy.”</p> + +<p>“He’s strong enough, and steady too,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>They both drove the wheel in silence, and I held +on by a coil of heavy rope, and sucked my fingers to +warm them, and very salt they tasted. Then the +captain left the wheel and turned to me again.</p> + +<p>“Are you cold?”</p> + +<p>“Rather, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You may go below, and see if the cook can spare +you a cup of coffee.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p> + +<p>“But first find Mr. Johnson, and send him here.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>Whilst the captain was talking, I began to think +of Dennis O’Moore, and how he groaned, and to +wonder whether it was true that he would get better, +and whether it would be improper to ask the captain, +who would not be likely to humbug me, if he answered +at all.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said the captain sharply, “what are you +standing there like a stuck pig for?”</p> + +<p>I saluted. “Please, sir, <i>will</i> he get better?”</p> + +<p>“What the —— Oh, yes. And hi, you!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> + +<p>“He’s in the steerage. You may go and see if +<!-- Page 87 -->he wants anything, and attend on him. You may +remain below at present.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p> + +<p>I lost no time in finding Mr. Johnson, and I got +a delicious cup of coffee and half a biscuit from the +cook, who favoured me in consequence of the conscientious +scouring I had bestowed upon his pans. +Then mightily warmed and refreshed, I made my +way to the side of the hammock I had swung for +the rescued lad, and by the light of a swinging lamp +saw his dark head buried in his arms.</p> + +<p>When I said, “Do you want anything?” he lifted +his face with a jerk, and looked at me.</p> + +<p>“Not I—much obliged,” he said, smiling, and +still staring hard. He had teeth like the half-caste, +but the resemblance stopped there.</p> + +<p>“The captain said I might come and look after +you, but if you want to go to sleep, do,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Why would I, if you’ll talk to me a bit?” was +his reply; and resting his head on the edge of, his +hammock and looking me well over, he added, “Did +they pick you up as well?”</p> + +<p>I laughed and wrung some salt water out of my +sleeve.</p> + +<p>“No. I’ve not been in the sea, but I’ve been on +deck, and it’s just as wet. It always <i>is</i> wet at sea,” I +added in a tone of experience.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 88 -->His eyes twinkled as if I amused him. “That, +indeed? And yourself, are ye—a midshipman?”</p> + +<p>It had been taken for granted that our new hand +was “a gentleman.” I never doubted it, though he +spoke with an accent that certainly recalled old Biddy +Macartney; a sort of soft ghost of a brogue with a +turn up at the end of it, as if every sentence came +sliding and finished with a spring, and I did wish +I could have introduced myself as a midshipman—instead +of having to mutter, “No, I’m a stowaway.”</p> + +<p>He raised himself higher in his hammock.</p> + +<p>“A stowaway? What fun! And what made ye +go? Were ye up to some kind of diversion at home, +and had to come out of it, eh? Or were ye bored to +extinction, or what? (Country life in England is +mighty dull, so they tell me.) I suppose it was +French leave that ye took, as ye say you’re a +stowaway? I’m asking ye a heap of impertinent +questions, bad manners to me!”</p> + +<p>Which was true. But he asked them so kindly +and eagerly, I could only feel that sympathy is a +very pleasant thing, even when it takes the form +of a catechism that is all questions, and no room +for the answers. Moreover, I suspect that he rattled +on partly to give me time to leave off blushing and +feel at ease with him.</p> + +<p>“I ran away because of several things,” said I.<!-- Page 89 --></p> + +<p>“I always did want to see the world”—(“And +why wouldn’t ye?” my new friend hastily interpolated). +“But even if I had stayed at home I don’t +believe I should ever have got to like being a lawyer”—(“Small +chance of it, I should say, the quill-driving +thievery!”) “It was my uncle’s office”—(“I +ask his pardon and yours.”) “Oh, you may say +what you like. I never could get on with him. I +don’t mean that he was cruel to me in the least, +though I think he behaved shabbily ——”</p> + +<p>“Faith, it’s a way they have! I’ve an uncle +myself that’s a sort of first cousin of my father’s, and +six foot three in his stockings, without a drop of good-nature +in the full length of him.”</p> + +<p>“Where is your home?” said I, for it certainly +was my turn to ask questions.</p> + +<p>“Where would it be but ould Ireland?” And +after a moment’s pause he added, “They call me +Dennis O’Moore. What’s <i>your</i> name, ye enterprising +little stowaway?”</p> + +<p>I told him. “And where were you going in your +boat, and how did you get upset?” I asked.</p> + +<p>He sighed. “It was the old hooker we started +in, bad luck to her!”</p> + +<p>“Is that the name of the boat you were holding +on to?”</p> + +<p>“<i>That</i> boat? No! We borrowed <i>her</i>—and now +<!-- Page 90 -->ye remind me, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tim Brady +was missing her by this, for I had no leisure to ask +his leave at the time, and, as a rule, we take our own +coracle in the hooker—”</p> + +<p>“What <i>is</i> a hooker?” I interrupted, for I was +resolved to know.</p> + +<p>“What’s a hooker? A hooker—what a catechetical +little chatterbox ye are! A man can’t get +a word in edgeways—a hooker’s a boat. Ours was +a twenty-ton, half-decked, cutter-rigged sort of thing, +built for nothing in particular, and always used for +everything. It was lucky for me we took Tim Brady’s +boat instead of the coracle, or I’d be now where—where +poor Barney is. Oh, Barney, Barney! How’ll +I ever get over it? Why did ye never learn to swim, +so fond of the water as ye were? Why couldn’t ye +hold on to me when I got a good grip of ye! +Barney, dear, I’ve a notion in my heart that ye left +your hold on purpose, and threw away your own life +that ye mightn’t risk mine. And now I’ll never +know, for ye’ll never be able to tell me. Tim Brady’s +boat would have held two as easy as one, Barney, +and maybe the old hooker’d have weathered the +storm with a few more repairs about her, that the +squire always intended, as no one knows better than +yourself! Oh, dear! oh, dear! But—Heaven forgive +us!—putting off’s been the ruin of the O’Moores +<!-- Page 91 -->from time out of mind. And now you’re dead and +gone—dead and gone! But oh, Barney, Barney, if +prayers can give your soul ease, you’ll not want them +while Dennis O’Moore has breath to pray!”</p> + +<p>I was beginning to discover that one of the first +wonders of the world is that it contains a great +many very good people, who are quite different from +oneself and one’s near relations. For I really was +not conceited enough to disapprove of my new friend +because he astonished me, though he certainly did +do so. From the moment when Barney (whoever +Barney might be) came into his head, everything +else apparently went out of it. I am sure he quite +forgot me.</p> + +<p>For my own part I gazed at him in blank amazement. +I was not used to seeing a man give way +to his feelings in public, still less to seeing a man +cry in company, and least of all to see a man say +his prayers when he was neither getting up nor +going to bed, nor at church, nor at family worship, +and before a stranger too! For, as he finished his +sentence he touched his curls, and then the place +where his crucifix lay, and then made a rapid movement +from shoulder to shoulder, and then buried his +head in his hands, and lay silent, praying, I had no +manner of doubt, for “Barney’s” soul.</p> + +<p>His prayers did not take him very long, and he +<!-- Page 92 -->finished with a big sigh, and lifted his head again. +When his eyes met mine he blushed, and said, “I +ask your pardon, Jack; I’d forgotten ye. You’re a +kind-hearted little soul, and I’m mighty dull company +for ye.”</p> + +<p>“No, you’re not,” said I. “But—I’m very sorry +for you. Was ‘Barney’ your ——?” and I stopped +because I really did not know what relationship +to suggest that would account for the outburst I had +witnessed.</p> + +<p>“Ah! ye may well say what was he—for what +wasn’t he—to me, anyhow? Jack! my mother died +when I was born, and never a soul but Barney +brought me up, for I wouldn’t let ’em. He’d come +with her from her old home when she married; and +when she lay dead he was let into the room to look +at her pretty face once more. Times out of mind +has he told me how she lay, with the black lashes +on her white cheeks, and the black crucifix on her +breast, that they were going to bury with her; the +women howling, and me kicking up an indecent row +in a cradle in the next apartment, carrying on like +a Turk if the nurse came near me, and most outrageously +disturbing the chamber of death. And +what does Barney do, when he’s said a prayer by +the side of the mistress, but ask for the crucifix off +her neck, that she’d worn all her girlhood? If the +<!-- Page 93 -->women howled before, they double-howled then, and +would have turned him out neck and crop, but my +father lifted his head from where he was lying speechless +in a kind of a fit at the foot of the bed, and says +he, ‘Barney Barton! ye knew the sweet lady that +lies there long before that too brief privilege was +mine. Ye served her well, and ye’ve served me well +for her sake; whatever ye ask for of hers in this +hour ye’ll get, Barney Barton. She trusted ye—and +I may.’ ‘<span class="smcap">God</span> bless ye, squire,’ says Barney; and +what does he do but go up to her and unloose the +ribbon from her throat with his own hands. And +away he went with the crucifix, past the women that +couldn’t get a sound out of them now, and past my +father as silent as themselves, and into the room +where I lay kicking up the devil’s own din in my +cradle. And when he held it up to me, with the +light shining on the silver, and the black ribbons +hanging down, never believe him if I didn’t stop +squalling, and stretch out my hands with a smile +as sweet as sunshine. And Barney tied it round my +neck, and took me into his arms. And they said he +spoke never a word when they told him my mother +was dead, and shed never a tear when he saw her lie, +but he sobbed his heart out over me.”</p> + +<p>“You may well care for him!” said I.</p> + +<p>“Indeed I may. He kept my mother’s memory +<!-- Page 94 -->green in my heart, and he taught me all ever I knew +but books. He taught me to walk, and he taught +me to ride, and shooting, and fishing, and such like +country diversions; and strange to say, he taught me +to swim, the way they learn in my mother’s country, +with a bundle of bull-rushes—for the old man couldn’t +swim a stroke himself, or he might be here now, alive +and hearty, please <span class="smcap">God</span>.”</p> + +<p>“Were there only you and he in the hooker?”</p> + +<p>“That’s all. It was altogether sheer madness, +for the old boat was barely fit for a day’s fishing in +fine weather, and though Barney nearly killed himself +overhauling her, and patching her sails, I doubt if +he knew very well what he was after. I’ve been +thinking, Jack, that his mind was not what it was. +He was always a bit obstinate, if he got a notion into +his head, but of late the squire himself couldn’t turn +him. When he wanted to do a thing about the place +that Barney didn’t approve, if he didn’t give in (as +he was apt to do, being easy-tempered) I can tell +ye he had to do it on the sly. That was how he +ordered the new ploughs that nearly broke Barney’s +heart, both because of being new-fangled machines, +and ready money having to be paid for them. ‘I’ll +see the ould place ruined before ye come to your +own, Master Dennis,’ he told me. And—Jack! +that’s another thing makes me think what I tell ye. +<!-- Page 95 -->He was for ever talking as if the place was coming +to me, and I’ve two brothers older than myself, let +alone my sister. But ye might as well reason with +the rock of Croagh Patrick! Well, if he didn’t ask +my father to let him and me run round in the hooker +with a load of sea-weed for Tim Brady’s farm, and of +course we got leave, and started as pleasant as could +be; barring that if Barney’d been a year or two +younger, there’d have been wigs on the green over +the cold potatoes, before we got off.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Wigs on the green over cold potatoes?</i>” I repeated, +in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>“Tst! tst! little Saxon! I mean we’d have had +a row over the provisions. It wasn’t too hours’ run +round to Tim Brady’s, and I found the old man +stowing away half-a-peck of cold boiled potatoes, and +big bottles of tea, and goodness knows what. ‘Is it +for ballast ye’re using the potatoes, Barney?’ says I. +‘Mind your own business, Master Dennis’—(and I +could see he was cross as two sticks),—‘and leave +the provisioning to them that understands it,’ says he. +‘How many meals d’ye reckon to eat between this and +Tim Brady’s?’ I went on, just poking my fun at him, +when—would ye believe it?—the old fellow fired up +like a sky-rocket, and asked me if I grudged him the +bit of food he ate, and Heaven knows what besides. +‘Is it Dennis O’Moore you’re speaking to?’ says I, +<!-- Page 96 -->for I’ve not got the squire’s easy temper, <span class="smcap">God</span> forgive +me! We were mighty near to a quarrel, Jack, I can +tell ye, but some shadow of a notion flitting across my +brain that the dear soul was not responsible entirely, +stopped my tongue, and something else stopped his +which I didn’t know till we got to Tim Brady’s, and +found that all we wanted with him was to borrow his +boat, and that the sea-weed business was no better than +a blind; for Barney had planned it all out that we +were to go down to Galway and fetch the new ploughs +home in the hooker, to save the cost of the land-carriage. +‘Sure it’s bad enough for the squire to be +soiling his hands with trumpery made by them English +thieves, that’s no more conscience over bothering a +gentleman for money nor if he was one of themselves,’ +said Barney; ‘sorra a halfpenny shall the railway +rogues rob him of.’ Ah, little stowaway, ye may +guess my delight! And hadn’t we glorious weather at +first, and wasn’t the dear old man happy and proud! +I can tell ye I yelled, and I sang, and I laughed, when +I felt the old hooker begin to bound on the swell when +we got into the open, but not a look would Barney +turn on me for minding the boat; but I could hear +him chuckling to himself and muttering about the +railway rogues. It wasn’t much time we either of us +had for talking, by and by. I steered and saw to the +main sheet, and Barney did look-out and minded the +<!-- Page 97 -->foresail, Tim Brady’s boat towing astern, getting such +a dance as it never had before, and at last dragging +upside down. We’d one thing in our favour, anyhow. +There was no disputing or disturbing of our minds as +to whether we’d turn back or not, for the gale was at +our backs; and the old hooker was like my father’s +black mare—you might guide her, but she was neither +to stop nor turn. How the gallant old boat held out +as she did, Heaven knows! It was not till the main-sail +had split into ribbons with a noise like a gun +going off, and every seam was strained to leaking, and +the sea came in faster than we could bale it out, that +we righted Tim Brady’s tub and got into her, and bade +the old hooker good-bye. The boat was weather-tight +enough—it was a false move of Barney’s capsized +her,—and I’d a good hold of her with one hand when +I gripped him with the other. Oh! Barney dear! +Why would ye always have your own way? Oh, why—why +did ye lose your hold? Ye thought all hope +was over, darling, didn’t ye? Ah, if ye had but +known the brave hearts that ——”</p> + +<p>I suppose it was because I was crying as well as +Dennis that I did not see Mr. Johnson till he was +standing by the Irish boy’s hammock. I know I got +a sound scolding for the state of his pulse (which the +third mate seemed to understand, as he understood +most things), and was dismissed with some pithy hints +<!-- Page 98 -->about cultivating common-sense and not making a +fool of myself. I sneaked off, and was thankful to +meet Alister and pour out my tale to him, and ask if +he thought that our new friend would have brain-fever, +because I had let him talk about his shipwreck.</p> + +<p>Alister was not quite so sympathetic as I had +expected. He was so much shocked about the +crucifix and about Dennis praying for Barney’s soul, +that he could think of nothing else. He didn’t seem +to think that he would have fever, but he said he +feared we had small reason to reckon on the prayers +of the idolatrous ascending to the throne of grace. +He told me a long story about the Protestant martyrs +who were shut up in a dungeon under the sea, on the +coast of Aberdeenshire, and it would have been very +interesting if I hadn’t been thinking of Dennis.</p> + +<p>We had turned in for some sleep, and I was rolling +myself in my blanket, when Alister called me—</p> + +<p>“Jack! did ye ever read Fox’s <i>Book of +Martyrs</i>?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a gran’ work, and it has some awful tales +in it. When we’ve a bit of holiday leesure I’ll tell +ye some.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Alister.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 99 -->CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“A very wise man believed that, if a man were permitted to +make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the +laws of a nation.”—<i>Fletcher of Saltoun in a letter to the +Marquis of Montrose.</i></p></div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> weather was fair enough, and we went along +very steadily and pleasantly that afternoon. I was +undoubtedly getting my sea-legs, which was well for +me, as they were put to the test unexpectedly. I +happened to be standing near Alister (we were tarring +ropes), when some orders rang out in Mr. Waters’ +voice, which I found had reference to something to be +done to some of the sails. At last came the words +“Away aloft!” which were responded to by a rush +of several sailors, who ran and leaped and caught +ropes and began climbing the rigging with a nimbleness +and dexterity which my own small powers in +that line enabled me to appreciate, as I gazed upwards +after them. The next order bore unexpected and far +from flattering references to me.</p> + +<p>“Hi, there. Francis!”<!-- Page 100 --></p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Take that gaping booby up with you. I hear +he’s ‘good at athletics.’”</p> + +<p>The sailors who were rope-tarring sniggered +audibly, and Alister lifted his face with a look of +anxiety, that did as much as the sniggering to +stimulate me not to disgrace myself.</p> + +<p>“Kick off your shoes, and come along,” said +Francis. “Jump on the bulwarks and then follow me. +Look aloft—that’s up, ye know—never mind your +feet, but keep tight hold of the ratlins—so, with your +hands, and when you <i>are</i> up aloft, don’t let one hand +go till you’re sure of your hold with the other.”</p> + +<p>Up we went, gripping the swaying ropes with toes +and fingers, till we reached the main-top, where I was +allowed to creep through the “Lubber’s Hole,” and +Francis swung himself neatly over the outside edge of +the top, and there he and I stood for a few minutes to +rest.</p> + +<p>I cannot say I derived much comfort from his +favourable comments on my first attempt. I was +painfully absorbed by realizing that to climb what is +steady, and to climb what is swaying with every wave, +are quite different things. Then, in spite of warnings, +I was fascinated by the desire to look down; and +when I looked I felt more uncomfortable than ever; +the ship’s deck was like a dancing tea-tray far below; +<!-- Page 101 -->my legs and arms began to feel very light, and my +head heavy, and I did not hear what Francis was +saying to me, so he pinched my arm and then repeated +it.</p> + +<p>“Come along—and if the other chaps put any +larks on you, keep your eyes open, and never lose a +grip by one hand somewhere. So long as you hold +on to some of the ship’s ropes you’re bound to find +your way back somehow.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll try,” I said.</p> + +<p>Then through the confusion in my head I heard +a screaming whistle, and a voice from beneath, and +Francis pricked his ears, and then suddenly swung +himself back on to the ladder of ropes by which we +had climbed.</p> + +<p>“Lucky for you, young shaver,” said he. “Come +along!”</p> + +<p>I desired no more definite explanation. Francis +was going down, and I willingly did the same, but +when my foot touched the deck I staggered and fell. +It was Mr. Johnson who picked me up by the neck of +my slops, saying, as he did so, “Boatswain! The +captain will give an extra lot of grog to drink Mr. +O’Moore’s good health.”</p> + +<p>This announcement was received with a cheer, +and I heard the boatswain calling to “stow your +cleaning-tackle, my lads, and for’ards to the break of +<!-- Page 102 -->the fo’c’sle. Them that has white ties and kid gloves +can wear ’em; and them that’s hout of sech articles +must come as they can. Pick up that tar-pot, ye fool! +Now are ye all coming and bringing your voices along +with ye? Hany gentleman as ’as ’ad the misfortin’ +to leave his music behind will oblige the ship’s +company with an ex-tem-por.”</p> + +<p>“Long life to ye, bo’sun; it’s a neat hand at a +speech ye are, upon my conscience!” cried Dennis, +over my shoulder, and then his arm was around it, +shaking with laughter, as we were hurried along by the +eager crowd.</p> + +<p>“He’s a wag, that old fellow, too. Come along, +little Jack! You’re mighty shaky on your feet, considering +the festivities that we’re bound for. Step it +out, my boy, or I’ll have to carry ye.”</p> + +<p>“Are ye coming to the fo’c’sle?” said I, being +well aware that this was equivalent to a drawing-room +visitor taking tea in the kitchen. “You know it’s +where the common sailors, and Alister and I have our +meals?” I added, for his private ear.</p> + +<p>“Thank ye for the hint. I know it’s where I hope +to meet the men that offered their lives for mine.”</p> + +<p>“That’s true, Dennis, I know; but don’t be cross. +They’ll be awfully pleased to see you.”</p> + +<p>“And not without reason, I can tell ye! Didn’t +I beard the lion in his den, the captain in his cabin, +<!-- Page 103 -->to beg for the grog? And talking of beards, of all the +fiery ——, upon my soul he’s not safe to be near gunpowder. +Jack, is he Scotch?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“They’re bad to blarney, and I did my best, I can +tell you, for my own sake as well as for the men. I’m +as shy with strangers as an owl by daylight, and I’ll +never get a thank ye out of my throat, unless we’ve the +chance of a bit of sociability. However, at last he +called to that nice fellow—third mate, isn’t he?—and +gave orders for the rum. ‘Two-water grog, Mr. +Johnson,’ says he. ‘Ah, captain,’ I said, ‘don’t be +throwing cold water on the entertainment; they got +their share of that last night. It’s only the rum that’s +required to complete us now.’ But he’s as deaf to +fun as he is to blarney. Is he good to you, little +stowaway?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, very,” said I. “And you should hear what +the men tell about other captains. They all like this +one.”</p> + +<p>“He has an air of uprightness about him; and so +has that brother-in-adversity of yours, more polish to +him! He must be a noble fellow, though. I can’t +get over <i>his</i> volunteering, without the most distant +obligation to risk his life for me—not even a sailor. +And yet he won’t be friendly, do what I will. As +formal as you please—that’s pride, I suppose—he’s +<!-- Page 104 -->Scotch too, isn’t he? Blarney’s no go with him. +Faith, it’s like trying to butter short-bread with the +thermometer at zero. By Jove, there he is ahead of +us. Alister, man! Not the ghost of a look will he +give me. He’s fine-looking, too, if his hair wasn’t so +insanely distracted, and his brow ridged and furrowed +deep enough to plant potatoes in. What in the name +of fortune’s he doing to his hands?”</p> + +<p>“He’s <i>washing</i> them with a lump of grease,” said +I. “I saw Francis give it him. It’s to get the +tar off.”</p> + +<p>“That indeed? Alister! <i>Alister</i>! Have ye no +eyes in the back of ye? Here’s Jack and myself.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Alister, stiffly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, confound your <i>sir</i>-liness!” muttered Dennis, +and added aloud, “Is that pomatum for your hair?”</p> + +<p>Alister laughed in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>“More like hair-<i>dye</i>, sir,” said he, and rubbing +desperately at his fingers, he added, “I can’t get them +decent.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, let them rest!” said Dennis. “It’s painting +the lily to adorn them. On ye go; and mind ye keep +near to us, and we’ll make a landlubber’s parliament +in a corner to ourselves.”</p> + +<p>My first friend had thawed, and went cheerfully +ahead of us, as I was very glad to see. Dennis saw it +too, but only to relapse into mischief. He held me +<!-- Page 105 -->back, as Alister strode in front, and putting out his +thumb and finger, so close to a tuft of hay-coloured +hair that stood cocked defiantly up on the Scotchman’s +crown that I was in all the agony he meant me +to be for fear of detection, he chattered in my ear, +“Jack, did ye ever study physiognomy, or any of the +science of externals? Look at this independent tuft. +Isn’t the whole character of the man in it? Could +mortal man force it down? Could the fingers of +woman coax it? Would ye appeal to it with argument? +Would hair’s grease, bear’s grease ——”</p> + +<p>But his peroration was suddenly cut short by a +rush from behind, one man tumbling over another on +the road to the forecastle. Dennis himself was thrown +against Alister, and his hand came heavily down on +the stubborn lock of hair.</p> + +<p>“It’s these fellows, bad manners to them,” he +explained; but I think Alister suspected a joke at his +expense, and putting his arms suddenly behind him, +he seized Dennis by the legs and hoisted him on to +his back as if he had been a child. In this fashion +the hero of the occasion was carried to a place of +honour, and deposited (not too gently) on the top of +an inverted deck-tub, amid the cheers and laughter of +all concerned.</p> + +<p>Round another tub—a shallow oak one, tidily +hooped with cooper—which served as spittoon, a +<!-- Page 106 -->solemn circle of smokers was already assembled. +They disturbed themselves to salute Dennis, and to +make room for others to join them, and then the +enlarged circle puffed and kept silence as before. I +was watching the colour come and go on the Irish +boy’s face, and he was making comical signs to me to +show his embarrassment, when Mr. Johnson shouted +for the grog-tub to be sent aft, and the boatswain +summoned me to get it and follow him.</p> + +<p>The smokers were not more silent than we, as the +third mate slowly measured the rum—half a gill a +head—into the grog-tub. But when this solemnity +was over and he began to add the water, a very +spirited dialogue ensued; Mr. Johnson (so far as I +could understand it) maintaining that “two-water +grog” was the rule of the ships on their line, and the +boatswain pleading that this being a “special issue” +was apart from general rules, and that it would be +more complimentary to the “young gentleman” to +have the grog a little stronger. How it ended I do +not know; I know I thought my “tot” very nasty, +and not improved by the reek of strong tobacco in the +midst of which we drank it, to Dennis O’Moore’s very +good health.</p> + +<p>When the boatswain and I got back to the forecastle, +carrying the grog-tub, we found the company +as we had left it, except that there was a peculiarly +<!-- Page 107 -->bland expression on every man’s face as he listened to +a song that the cook was singing. It was a very love-lorn, +lamentable, and lengthy song, three qualities +which alone would recommend it to any audience of +Jack Tars, as I have since had many occasions to +observe. The intense dolefulness of the ditty was not +diminished by the fact that the cook had no musical +ear, and having started on a note that was no note in +particular, he flattened with every long-drawn lamentation +till the ballad became more of a groan than a +song. When the grog-tub was deposited, Dennis +beckoned to the boatswain, and we made our way to +his side.</p> + +<p>“Your cook’s a vocal genius, anyhow, bo’sun,” +said he. “But don’t ye think we’d do more justice +to our accomplishments, <i>and keep in tune</i>, if we’d +an accompaniment? Have ye such a thing as a +fiddle about ye?”</p> + +<p>The boatswain was delighted. Of course there was +a fiddle, and I was despatched for it. I should find +it hanging on a hook at the end of the plate-rack, and +if the bow was not beside it it would be upon the shelf, +and there used to be a lump of resin and a spare +string or two in an empty division of the spice-box. +The whole kit had belonged to a former cook, a +very musical nigger, who had died at sea, and bequeathed +his violin to his ship. Sambo had been +<!-- Page 108 -->well liked, and there were some old hands would be +well pleased to hear his fiddle once more.</p> + +<p>It took me some little time to find everything, and +when I got back to Dennis another song had begun. +A young sailor I did not know was singing it, and the +less said about it the better, except that it very nearly +led to a row. It was by way of being a comic song, +but except for one line which was rather witty as well +as very nasty, there was nothing humorous about it, +unless that it was funny that any one could have been +indecent enough to write it, and any one else unblushing +enough to sing it. I am ashamed to say I +had heard some compositions of a similar type at +Snuffy’s, and it filled me with no particular amazement +to hear a good deal of sniggering in the circle +round the spittoon, though I felt miserably uncomfortable, +and wondered what Mr. O’Moore would think. +I had forgotten Alister.</p> + +<p>I was not likely soon to forget his face as I saw it, +the blood swelling his forehead, and the white wrath +round his lips, when he gripped me by the shoulder, +saying, in broader Scotch than usual, “Come awa’ +wi’ ye, laddie! I’ll no let ye stay. Come awa’ oot +of this accurst hole. I wonder he doesna think +black burning shame of himsel’ to stand up before +grey-heided men and fill a callant’s ears with filth +like yon.”</p> + +<p><!-- Page 109 -->Happily just indignation had choked Alister’s voice +as well as his veins, and I don’t think many of the +company heard this too accurate summary of the +situation. The boatswain did, but before he could +speak, Dennis O’Moore had sprung to the ground +between them, and laying the fiddle over his shoulder +played a wild sort of jig that most effectually and +unceremoniously drowned the rest of the song, and +diverted the attention of the men.</p> + +<p>“The fiddle’s an old friend, so the bo’sun tells +me,” he said, nodding towards the faces that turned +to him.</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I’m blessed if it isn’t Sambo’s old thing.”</p> + +<p>“It’s your honour knows how to bring the heart +out of it, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“My eyes, Pat! You should ha’ heerd it at the +dignity ball we went ashore for at Barbadoes. Did +you ever foot the floor with a black washerwoman of +eighteen stun, dressed out in muslin the colour of +orange marmalade, and white kid shoes?”</p> + +<p>“I did not, the darlin’!”</p> + +<p>As the circle gossiped, Dennis tuned the fiddle, +talking vehemently to the boatswain between whiles.</p> + +<p>“Bo’sun! ye’re not to say a word to the boy. (Sit +down, Alister, I tell ye!) I ask it as a favour. He +didn’t mince matters, I’ll allow, but it was <span class="smcap">God’S</span> +<!-- Page 110 -->truth, and no less, that he spoke. Come, bo’sun, +who’s a better judge of manners than yourself? We’d +had enough and to spare of that, (Will ye keep +quiet, ye cantankerous Scotchman! Who’s harming +ye now? Jack, if ye move an inch, I’ll break this +fiddle over your head.) Bo’sun! we’re perishing for +our grog, are ye aware?”</p> + +<p>The diversion was successful. The boatswain, +with a few indignant mutterings, devoted himself to +doling out the tots of grog, and then proposed Dennis +O’Moore’s health in a speech full of his own style of +humour, which raised loud applause; Dennis commenting +freely on the text, and filling up awkward +pauses with flourishes on Sambo’s fiddle. The boatswain’s +final suggestion that the ship’s guest should +return thanks by a song, instead of a sentiment, +was received with acclamations, during which he sat +down, after casting a mischievous glance at Dennis, +who was once more blushing and fidgeting with +shyness.</p> + +<p>“Ye’ve taken your revenge, bo’sun,” said he.</p> + +<p>“Them that blames should do better, sir,” replied +the boatswain, folding his arms.</p> + +<p>“A song! a song! Mr. O’Moore!” shouted the +men.</p> + +<p>“I only know a few old Irish songs,” pleaded +Dennis.<!-- Page 111 --></p> + +<p>“Ould Ireland for ever!” cried Pat Shaughnessy.</p> + +<p>“Hear! hear! Encore, Pat!” roared the men. +They were still laughing. Then one or two of those +nearest to us put up their hands to get silence. +Sambo’s fiddle was singing (as only voices and fiddles +can sing) a melody to which the heads and toes of +the company soon began to nod and beat:</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -1.5em;">“La, lĕ lā la la, la la la, lā lĕ la, lâ</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">Lā, le lā la la, la la la, lâ—lĕ la lâ,”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>hummed the boatswain. “Lor’ bless me, Mr. O’Moore, +I heard that afore you were born, though I’m blessed +if I know where. But it’s a genteel pretty thing!”</p> + +<p>“It’s all about roses and nightingales!” shouted +Dennis, with comical grimaces.</p> + +<p>“Hear! hear!” answered the oldest and hairiest-looking +of the sailors, and the echoes of his approbation +only died away to let the song begin. Then the +notes of Sambo’s fiddle also dropped off, and I heard +Dennis O’Moore’s beautiful voice for the first time as +he gave his head one desperate toss and began:</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -1.4em;">“There’s a bower of roses by Bendemeer’s stream,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.4em;">And the nightingale sings round it all the night long.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">In the time of my childhood ‘twas like a sweet dream</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.8em;">To sit in the roses and hear the bird’s song.”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>One by one the pipes were rested on the smokers’ +knees; they wanted their mouths to hear with. I +don’t think the assembled company can have looked +<!-- Page 112 -->much like exiles from flowery haunts of the nightingale, +but we all shook our heads, not only in time +but in sympathy, as the clear voice rose to a more +passionate strain:</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -5.4em;">“That bower and its music I never forget;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.9em;">But oft when alone in the bloom of the year,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -3.6em;">I think—is the nightingale singing there yet?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer?”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>I and the oldest and hairiest sailor were sighing +like furnaces as the melody recommenced with the +second verse:</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -0.2em;">“No, the roses soon withered that hung o’er the wave,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">But some blossoms were gathered while freshly they shone,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -0.2em;">And a dew was distilled from their flowers, that gave</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.9em;">All the fragrance of summer when summer was gone.”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>If making pot-pourri after my mother’s old family +recipe had been the chief duty of able-bodied seamen, +this could not have elicited more nods of approbation. +But we listened spell-bound and immovable to the +passion and pathos with which the singer poured forth +the conclusion of his song:</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -3.6em;">“Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.4em;">An essence that breathes of it many a year;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -0.4em;">Thus bright to my soul—as ‘twas then to my eyes—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.1em;">Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer.”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>And then (as somebody said) the noise we made was +enough to scare the sea-gulls off the tops of the waves.</p> + +<p>“You scored that time, Mr. O’Moore,” said the +<!-- Page 113 -->boatswain. “You’d make your fortune in a music-hall, +sir.”</p> + +<p>“Thank ye, bo’sun. Glad I didn’t give ye your +revenge, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>But the boatswain meant to strike nearer home. +A ship’s favourite might have hesitated to sing after +Dennis, so Alister’s feelings may be guessed on hearing +the following speech:</p> + +<p>“Mr. O’Moore, and comrades all. I believe I +speak for all hands on this vessel, when I say that we +ain’t likely to forget sech an agreeable addition to a +ship’s company as the gentleman who has just given +us a taste of the nightingale’s quality” (loud cheers). +“But we’ve been out-o’-way favoured as I may say, +this voyage. We mustn’t forget that there’s two other +little strangers aboard” (roars of laughter). “They +’olds their ’eads rather ’igh p’raps, for <i>stowaways</i>” +(“Hear! hear!”), “but no doubt their talents bears +’em out” (“Hear, hear!” from Dennis, which found +a few friendly echoes). “Anyway, as they’ve paid us +a visit, without waiting to ask if we was at ’ome to +callers, we may look to ’em to contribute to the +general entertainment. Alister Auchterlay will now +favour the company with a song.”</p> + +<p>The boatswain stood back and folded his arms, +and fixed his eyes on the sea-line, from which attitude +no appeals could move him. I was very sorry for +<!-- Page 114 -->Alister, and so was Dennis, I am sure, for he did his +best to encourage him.</p> + +<p>“Sing ‘<span class="smcap">God</span> save the Queen,’ and I’ll keep well +after ye with the fiddle,” he suggested. But Alister +shook his head. “I know one or two Scotch tunes,” +Dennis added, and he began to sketch out an air or +two with his fingers on the strings.</p> + +<p>Presently Alister stopped him. “Yon’s the ‘Land +o’ the Leal’?”</p> + +<p>“It is,” said Dennis.</p> + +<p>“Play it a bit quicker, man, and I’ll try ‘Scots +wha hae.’”</p> + +<p>Dennis quickened at once, and Alister stood forward. +He neither fidgeted nor complained of feeling +shy, but as my eyes (I was squatted cross-legged on +the deck) were at the level of his knees, I could see +them shaking, and pitied him none the less, that I +was doubtful as to what might not be before <i>me</i>. +Dennis had to make two or three false starts before +poor Alister could get a note out of his throat, but +when he had fairly broken the ice with the word +“Scots!” he faltered no more.</p> + +<p>The boatswain was cheated a second time of his +malice. Alister could not sing in the least like Dennis, +but he had a strong manly voice, and it had a ring +that stirred one’s blood, as he clenched his hands, and +rolled his Rs to the rugged appeal:</p> + +<p class="center"><!-- Page 115 --> +<span style="margin-left: -1.8em;">“Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.4em;">Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -3.5em;">Welcome to your gory bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -4.9em;">Or to victory!”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Applause didn’t seem to steady his legs in the +least, and he never moved his eyes from the sea, and +his face only grew whiter by the time he drove all the +blood to my heart with</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -3.7em;">“Wha will be a traitor knave?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.3em;">Wha can fill a coward’s grave?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -3.2em;">Wha sae base as be a slave?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.1em;">Let him turn and flee!”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">God</span> forbid!” cried Dennis impetuously. “Sing +that verse again, me boy, and give us a chance to sing +with ye!” which we did accordingly; but as Alister +and Dennis were rolling Rs like the rattle of musketry +on the word <i>turn</i>, Alister did turn, and stopped +suddenly short. The captain had come up unobserved.</p> + +<p>“Go on!” said he, waving us back to our +places.</p> + +<p>By this time the solo had become a chorus. +Beautifully unconscious, for the most part, that the +song was by way of stirring Scot against Saxon, its +deeper patriotism had seized upon us all. Englishmen, +Scotchmen, and sons of Erin, we all shouted +at the top of our voices, Sambo’s fiddle not being +<!-- Page 116 -->silent. And I maintain that we all felt the sentiment +with our whole hearts, though I doubt if any +but Alister and the captain knew and sang the +precise words:</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -1.9em;">“Wha for Scotland’s king and law</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">Freedom’s sword will strongly draw,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.3em;">Freeman stand, or freeman fa’,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -3em;">Let him on wi’ me!”</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 117 -->CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +“’Tis strange—but true; for truth is always strange—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: -6.7em;">Stranger than fiction.”—</span><span class="smcap">Byron</span>.<br /> +<br /> +“Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows.”—<span class="smcap">Gray</span>.<br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> least agreeable part of our voyage came near +the end. It was when we were in the fogs off the +coast of Newfoundland. The work that tired one to +death was not sufficient to keep one warm; the cold +mist seemed to soak through one’s flesh as well as +one’s slops, and to cling to one’s bones as it clung to +the ship’s gear. The deck was slippery and cold, +everything, except the funnel, was sticky and cold, +and the fog-horn made day and night hideous with +noises like some unmusical giant trying in vain to hit +the note Fa. The density of the fog varied. Sometimes +we could not see each other a few feet off, at +others we could see pretty well what we were about +on the vessel, but could see nothing beyond.</p> + +<p>We went very slowly, and the fog lasted unusually +long. It included a Sunday, which is a blessed day +<!-- Page 118 -->to Jack at sea. No tarring, greasing, oiling, painting, +scraping or scrubbing but what is positively necessary, +and no yarn-spinning but that of telling travellers’ +tales, which seamen aptly describe as spinning yarns. +I heard a great many that day which recalled the +school-master’s stories, and filled my head and heart +with indefinable longings and impatience. More and +more did it seem impossible that one could live +content in one little corner of this interesting world +when one has eyes to see and ears to hear, and hands +for work, and legs to run away with.</p> + +<p>Not that the tales that were told on this occasion +were of an encouraging nature, for they were all +about fogs and ice; but they were very interesting. +One man had made this very voyage in a ship that +got out of her course as it might be where we were +then. She was too far to the north’ard when a fog +came on, as it might be the very fog we were in at +that moment, and it lasted, lifting a bit and falling +again worse than ever, just the very same as it was +a-doing now. Cold? He believed you this fog was +cold, and you might believe him that fog was cold, +but the cold of both together would not be a patch +upon what it was when your bones chattered in your +skin and you heard the ship’s keel grinding, and said +“Ice!” “He’d seen some queer faces—dead and +living—in his time, but when <i>that</i> fog lifted and the +<!-- Page 119 -->sun shone upon walls of green ice on both sides +above our head, and the captain’s face as cold and +as green as them with knowing all was up ——”</p> + +<p>At this point the narrator was called away, and +somebody asked,</p> + +<p>“Has any one heard him tell how it ended?”</p> + +<p>“I did,” said Pat Shaughnessy, “and it spoilt me +dinner that time.”</p> + +<p>“Go on, Pat! What happened to them?”</p> + +<p>“The lowest depths of misfortune. Sorra a soul +but himself and a boy escaped by climbing to a +ledge on the topmost peak of one of the icebergs +just in the nick of time to see the ship cracked like +a walnut between your fingers. And the worst was to +come, bad luck!”</p> + +<p>“What? Go on, Paddy! What did he and the +boy do?”</p> + +<p>“They just eat each other,” faltered Pat. “But, +Heaven be praised! a whaler fetched off the survivor. +It was then that he got the bad fever though, so +maybe he dreamt the worst.”</p> + +<p>I felt great sympathy with Pat’s evident disrelish +for this tale, but the oldest and hairiest sailor seemed +hardly to regard it as worth calling an adventure. If +you wanted to see ice that was ice, you should try +the coast of Greenland, he said. “Hartic Hexploration +for choice, but seals or blubber took you pretty +<!-- Page 120 -->far up. He remembered the Christmas he lost <i>them +two</i>.” (And cocking one leg over the other, he drew +a worsted sock from his foot, and displayed the fact +that his great toe and the one next to it were gone.) +“They lost more than toes that time too. You might +believe it gave you a lonelyish kind of feel when +there was no more to be done for the ship but get as +much firewood out of her timber as you could, and +all you had in the way of a home was huts on an ice-floe, +and a white fox, with a black tip to its tail, for a +pet. It wouldn’t have lasted long, except for discipline,” +we young ’uns might take notice. “Pleasure’s +all very well ashore, where a man may go his own way +a long time, and show his nasty temper at home, and +there’s other folks about him doing double duty to +make up for it and keep things together; but when +you come to a handful of men cast adrift to make a +world for themselves, as one may say, Lord bless +you! there’s nothing’s any good then but making +every man do as he’s bid and be content with what +he gets—and clearing him out if he won’t. It was a +hard winter at that. But regularity pulled us through. +Reg’lar work, reg’lar ways, reg’lar rations and reg’lar +lime-juice, as long as it lasted. And not half a bad +Christmas we didn’t have neither, and poor Sal’s +Christmas-tree was the best part of it. ‘What sort +of a Christmas-tree, and why Sal’s?’ Well, the +<!-- Page 121 -->carpenter put it up, and an uncommon neat thing +he made too, of pinewood and birch-broom, and +some of the men hung it over with paper chains. +And then the carpenter opened the bundle Sal made +him take his oath he wouldn’t open till Christmas, +whatever came, and I’m blest if there wasn’t a pair of +brand-new socks for every soul of the ship’s crew. +Not that we were so badly off for socks, but washing +’em reg’lar, and never being able to get ’em really +dry, and putting ’em on again like stones, was a +mighty different thing to getting all our feet into +something dry and warm. ‘Who was Sal?’ Well, +poor Sal was a rum ’un, but she’s dead. It’s a queer +thing, we only lost one hand, and that was the +carpenter, and he died the same day poor Sal was +murdered down Bermondsey way. It’s a queer world, +this, no matter where you’re cruising! But there’s +one thing you’ll learn if you live as long as me; a +woman’s heart and the ocean deep’s much about the +same. You can’t reckon on ’em, and <span class="smcap">God</span> A’mighty, +as made ’em, alone knows the depths of ’em; but as +our doctor used to say (and he was always fetching +things out and putting ‘em into bottles), it’s the rough +weather brings the best of it up.”</p> + +<p>This was not a cheerful story, but it was soon +driven out of our heads by others. Fog was the prevailing +topic; yarns of the fogs of the northern seas +<!-- Page 122 -->being varied by “red fogs” off the Cape de Verd +Islands; and not the least dismal of the narratives +was told by Alister Auchterlay, of a fog on Ben +Nevis, in which his own grandmother’s uncle perished, +chiefly, as it appeared, in consequence of a constitutional +objection to taking advice, or to “going back +upon his word,” when he had made up his mind to +do something or to go somewhere. And this drew +from the boatswain the sad fate of a comrade of his, +who had sailed twice round the world, been ship-wrecked +four times, in three collisions, and twice +aboard ships that took fire, had Yellow Jack in the +West Indies, and sunstroke at the Cape, lost a middle +finger from frost-bite in the north of China, and one +eye in a bit of a row at San Francisco, and came safe +home after it all, and married a snug widow in a +pork-shop at Wapping Old Stairs, and got out of his +course steering home through a London fog on Guy +Fawkes Day, and walked straight into the river, and +was found at low tide next morning with a quid of +tobacco in his cheek, and nothing missing about him +but his glass eye, which shows, as the boatswain said, +that “Fogs is fogs anywhere, and a nasty thing +too.”</p> + +<p>It was towards dark, when we had been fourteen +days at sea, that our own fog suddenly lifted, and the +good news flew from mouth to mouth that we might +<!-- Page 123 -->be “in about midnight.” But the fog came down +again, and I do not think that the whole fourteen +days put together felt so long as the hours of that +one night through which the fog-horn blew, and we +longed for day.</p> + +<p>I was leaning against the bulwarks at eight o’clock +the next morning. White mist was all around us, a +sea with no horizon. Suddenly, like the curtain of a +theatre, the mist rose. Gradually the horizon-line +appeared, then a line of low coast, which, muddy-looking +as it was, made one’s heart beat thick and +fast. Then lines of dark wood; then the shore was +dotted with grey huts; then the sun came out, the +breeze was soft and mild, and the air became strangely +scented, and redolent of pine forests. Nearer the +coast took more shape, though it was still low, rather +bare and dotted with brushwood and grey stones low +down, and always crowned with pines. Then habitations +began to sparkle along the shore. Red +roofs, cardboard-looking churches, little white wooden +houses, and stiffish trees mixed everywhere. And the +pine odour on the breeze was sweeter and sweeter +with every breath one drew.</p> + +<p>Suddenly I found Alister’s arm round my shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it glorious?” I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye,” he said, and then, as if afraid he had +not said enough, he added with an effort: “The +<!-- Page 124 -->toun’s built almost entirely of wood, I’m told, with a +population of close on 30,000 inhabitants.”</p> + +<p>“What a fellow you are!” I groaned: “Alister, +aren’t you glad we’re safe here? Are you ever pleased +about anything?”</p> + +<p>He didn’t speak, and I turned in his arm to look +up at his face. His eyes, which always remind me of +the sea, were looking away over it, but he brought +them back to meet mine, and pressed my shoulder.</p> + +<p>“It is bonnie,” he said, “verra bonnie. But eh, +man! if strange land shines like yon, hoo’ll oor ain +shores look whenever we win Home?”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 125 -->CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +“One, two, three, and away!”<br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> three were fast friends when our voyage ended, +and in planning our future we planned to stick +together, “Like the three leaves of the shamrock,” as +Dennis O’Moore said.</p> + +<p>The captain would have kept Alister as one of his +crew, but the Scotch lad had definite plans for looking +up a cousin on this side of the Atlantic, and pushing +his fortunes by the help of his relative, so he did not +care to make the return voyage. The captain did not +offer the berth to me, but he was very kind, and +returned my money, and gave us a written paper +testifying to our good conduct and capabilities. He +also gave Alister his address, and he and the other +officers collected a small sum of money for him as a +parting gift.</p> + +<p>That afternoon we three crossed the harbour, and +went for a walk in the pine-woods. How I longed for +Charlie! I would have given anything if he could +<!-- Page 126 -->have been there, warmed through by the hot sun, +refreshed by the smell of pines, resting his poor back +in the deep moss, and getting excited over the strange +flowers that grew wild all round our feet. One never +forgets the first time one sees unknown flowers growing +wild; and though we were not botanical, like +Charlie, we had made ourselves very hot with gathering +nosegays by the time that Dennis summoned us +to sit down and talk seriously over our affairs. Our +place of council was by the side of a lake, which +reflected a sky more blue than I had ever seen. It +stretched out of sight, and all about it were pines—pines. +It was very lovely, and very hot, and very +sweet, and the little black flies which swarmed about +took tiny bits out of our cheek, and left the blood +trickling down, so cleverly, that one did not feel it—till +afterwards. We did feel the mosquitoes, and fought +with them as well as we could, whilst Dennis O’Moore, +defending his own face with a big bunch of jack-in-pulpits +striped like tabby cats, explained his plans as +follows:</p> + +<p>Of course we had no notion of going home awhile. +Alister and I had come away on purpose; and for his +own part it had always been the longing of his soul to +see the world. Times out of mind when he and +Barney were on board one of these emigrant ships, +that had put into the bay, <span class="smcap">God</span>-speeding an old tenant +<!-- Page 127 -->or acquaintance with good wishes and whisky and +what not, he had been more than half inclined to give +old Barney and the hooker the slip, and take his luck +with the outward bound. And now he was here, and +no blame for it, why would he hurry home? The +race of the O’Moores was not likely to become extinct +for the loss of him, at the worst; and the Squire +wouldn’t grudge him a few months’ diversion and a +peep at the wide world. Far from it; he’d send him +some money, and why not? He (Dennis) was a bit +of a favourite for his mother’s sake, and the Squire +had a fine heart. The real difficulty was that it +would be at least a month before the Squire could +get a letter and Dennis could get his money; but +if we couldn’t keep our heads above water for a +month we’d small chance of pushing our way in the +world.</p> + +<p>It is needless to say that I was willing to fall in +with Dennis O’Moore’s plans, being only too thankful +for such companions in my wanderings. I said +so, and added that what little money I had was to be +regarded as a common purse so long as it lasted.</p> + +<p>When Alister was appealed to, he cast in his lot +with no less willingness, but it seemed that he must +first look up a relation of his mother’s, who lived in +Halifax, and to whom his mother had given him a +letter of introduction. Alister had never told us his +<!-- Page 128 -->history, and of course we had not asked for it; but +on this occasion some of it crept out. His father had +been the minister of a country parish in Scotland, but +he had died young, and Alister had been reared in +poverty. Dennis and I gathered that he had well-to-do +relatives on his father’s side, but, as Dennis said, +“more kinship than kindness about them.” “Though +I wouldn’t wonder if the widow herself had a touch +of stiff-neckedness in her,” he added.</p> + +<p>However that might be, Alister held with his +mother, of course, and he said little enough about his +paternal relations, except one, whom he described as +“a guid man, and <i>verra</i> canny, but hard on the failings +of the young.” What youthful failings in our +comrade had helped to snap the ties of home we +did not know, but we knew enough of Alister by this +time to feel sure they could not have been very +unpardonable.</p> + +<p>It was not difficult to see that it was under the +sting of this man’s reproaches that the lad had taken +his fate into his own hands.</p> + +<p>“I’m not blaming him,” said Alister in impartial +tones; and then he added, with a flash of his eyes, +“but I’ll no be indebted to him!”</p> + +<p>We had returned to the town, and were strolling +up the shady side of one of the clean wooden streets, +when a strange figure came down it with a swinging +<!-- Page 129 -->gait, at a leisurely pace. She (for, after a moment’s +hesitation, we decided that it was a woman) was of +gipsy colouring, but not of gipsy beauty. Her black +hair was in a loose knot on her back, she wore a +curious skull-cap of black cloth embroidered with +beads, a short cloth skirt, a pair of old trousers tucked +into leather socks, a small blanket with striped ends +folded cunningly over her shoulders, and on her +breast a gold cross about twice as large as the one +concealed beneath the Irish boy’s shirt. And I +looked at her with a curious feeling that my dreams +were coming true. Dark—high-cheeked—a blanket—and +(unless the eyes with which I gazed almost +reverentially at the dirty leather socks deceived me) +moccasins—she was, she must be, a <i>squaw</i>!</p> + +<p>Probably Dennis had come to the same conclusion, +when, waving the tabby-coloured <i>arums</i> he +said, “I’ll ask her what these are,” and gaily advanced +to carry out his purpose.</p> + +<p>“Ye’re daft,” said Alister, getting red.</p> + +<p>“It’s a North American Indian!” said I.</p> + +<p>“It’s a woman, anyhow!” retorted Dennis over +his shoulder, with a twinkle of his eyelashes that drew +from Alister in his broadest accent, “The lad’s a +pairrfect libberrteen!” an expression which he afterwards +retracted and apologized for at considerable +length.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 130 -->Within a few feet of the squaw Dennis lifted the +broad-brimmed hat which I had bought for him +directly we landed, and then advancing with a winning +smile, he asked the name of the flowers in very good +Irish, The squaw smiled too; she touched the +flowers, and nodded and said something in a soft, +rapid and unknown tongue, which only made Dennis +shake his head and smile again, on which she spoke +in a language still dark to Alister and me, but not so +to Dennis, who, to our amazement, replied in the +same, and a dialogue so spirited ensued, that they +both seemed to be talking at once. Alister’s face was +a study when Dennis put out his hand towards the +squaw’s gold cross, and all but touched it, and then +(both chattering faster than ever) unbuttoned his +throat and drew out his crucifix to show her. His +last act was to give her half the tabby-striped <i>arums</i> +as they parted. Then he lifted the broad hat once +more and stood bareheaded, as the squaw came slowly +down the wooden causeway, not without one glance +at us as she passed. But at the bottom of the street +she turned round to look at Dennis. His hat was +still in his hand, and he swung it round his head, +crying, “A Dieu, Madame!”</p> + +<p>“A Dieu!” said the squaw, and she held up the +tabby-striped <i>arums</i>. Very mingled feelings seemed +to have been working in Alister’s mind, but his respect +<!-- Page 131 -->for the fruits of education was stronger even than his +sense of propriety. He forgot to scold Dennis for his +unseemly familiarity with a stranger, he was so anxious +to know in what language he had been speaking.</p> + +<p>“French,” said Dennis. “There seems to be a +French mission somewhere near here. She’s a good +Catholic too, but she has a mighty queer accent, and +awful feet!”</p> + +<p>“It’s a grand thing to speak with other tongues!” +said Alister.</p> + +<p>“If ye want to learn French, I’ll teach ye all I +can,” said Dennis. “Sh—sh! No kindness whatever. +I wish we mayn’t have idle time for any +amount of philology!”</p> + +<p>At the top of the hill we parted for a time, and +went our ways. Alister to look up his relation, I to +buy stationery and stamps for our letters home, and +Dennis to convert his gold ring into the currency of +the colony. We would not let him pawn his watch, +which he was most anxious to do, though Alister and +I pointed out how invaluable it might prove to us (it +was a good hunting-watch, and had been little damaged +by the sea), because, as he said, “he would feel as if +he was doing <i>something</i>, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>Alister and I were the last to part, and as we did +so, having been talking about Dennis O’Moore, I +said, “I knew it was French when I got nearer, but +<!-- Page 132 -->I never learnt French, though my mother began to +teach me once. You don’t really think you’ll learn +it from him, do you?”</p> + +<p>“With perseverance,” replied Alister, simply.</p> + +<p>“What good will French be to you?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Knowledge is a light burden, and it may carry +ye yet,” was Alister’s reply.</p> + +<p>When we met again, Dennis was jingling some +money in his pocket, which was added to the common +fund of which the miser’s legacy had formed the base. +I had got paper and stamps, and information as to +mails, and some more information which was postponed +till we found out what was amiss with the +Scotch leaf of our shamrock. For there were deep +furrows on Alister’s brow, but far deeper was the +despondency of his soul. He was in the lowest +possible spirits, and with a Scotchman that is low +indeed. He had made out his way to his cousin’s +place of business, and had heard a very satisfactory +report of the commercial success, but—the cousin had +gone “to the States.”</p> + +<p>Alister felt himself very much ill-used by fate, and +I believe Dennis felt himself very much ill-used by +Alister, that evening, but I maintain that I alone was +the person really to be pitied, because I had to keep +matters smooth between the two. The gloom into +which Alister relapsed, his prophecies, prognostica<!-- Page 133 -->tions, +warnings, raven-like croakings, parallel instances, +general reflections and personal applications, as well +as his obstinate notion that he would be “a burden +and a curse” to “the two of us,” and that it would +have been small wonder had the sailors cast him +forth into the Atlantic, like the Prophet Jonah, as +being certain to draw ill-luck on his companions, were +trying enough; but it was no joke that misfortune +had precisely the opposite effect upon Dennis. If +there was a bit of chaff left unchaffed in all Ireland, +from Malin Head to Barley Cove, I believe it came +into Dennis’s head on this inappropriate occasion, +and he forthwith discharged it at Alister’s. To put +some natures into a desperate situation seems like +putting tartaric acid into soda and water—they sparkle +up and froth. It certainly was so with Dennis +O’Moore; and if Alister could hardly have been +more raven-like upon the crack of doom, the levity +of Dennis would, in our present circumstances, have +been discreditable to a paroquet.</p> + +<p>For it was no light matter to have lost our one +hope of a friend in this strange land; and yet this +was practically what it meant, when we knew that +Alister Auchterlay’s cousin had gone to the States. +But the idea of kinship at last suggested, something +more sensible than jokes to Dennis O’Moore.</p> + +<p>“Why, I’ve a cousin of my own in Demerara, +<!-- Page 134 -->and I’d forgotten him entirely!” he suddenly +announced.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t a cousin in New York, have +you?” I asked, and I proceeded to explain, that +having done my business, I had been drawn back +to the harbour by all the attractions shipping has +for me, and had there been accosted by the mate +of a coasting-vessel bound for New York with salt +fish, who was in want of hands both to load and +man her. The <i>Water-Lily</i> had been pointed out +to me from a distance, and we might go and +see her to-morrow morning if we liked. With the +prospect of living for at least a month on our +slender stocking, the idea of immediate employment +was very welcome, to say nothing of the +attraction of further adventures. Alister began to +cheer up, and Dennis to sober down. We wrote +home, and posted our letters, after which we +secured a decent sleeping-room and a good meal +of broiled salmon, saffron-coloured cakes, and hot +coffee, for a very reasonable sum; but, moderate +as it was, it confirmed us in the conviction that +we could not afford to eat the bread of idleness.</p> + +<p>Next day we were early at the wharf. The +<i>Water-Lily</i> was by no means so white as she was +named, and the smell of the salt fish was abominable. +But we knew we could not pick and choose when +<!-- Page 135 -->we wanted employment, and wanted to be together; +and to this latter point we had nailed our colours. +With Alister and me the mate came to terms at +once, but for a time he made difficulties about +Dennis. We “stowaways” had had so much dirty +work to do in all weathers for the past fortnight, +that we looked sailor-like enough, I dare say; and +as it had honestly been our endeavour to learn all +we could, and shirk nothing, and as the captain’s +paper spoke well of us, I think the mate got a very +good bargain—for we were green enough to take +lower wages than the customary rate on the strength +of a long string of special reasons which he made +us swallow. This probably helped towards his giving +in about Dennis. The matter about Dennis was +that he looked too much of the fine gentleman still, +though his homespun suit had seen salt water, and +was far from innocent of tar and grease, for he had +turned his hand to plenty of rough work during +the voyage, partly out of good-nature, and partly +to learn all he could get the sailors to teach him. +However, his coaxing tongue clinched the bargain +at last; indeed the mate seemed a good deal struck +by the idea that he would find it “mighty convenient” +to have a man on board who was a good +scholar and could help him to keep the log. So +we signed articles, and went to our duty.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 136 -->The <i>Water-Lily</i> was loaded, and we sailed in +her, and we got to New York. But of all the +ill-found tubs that ever put to sea, I should think +she might have taken the first prize. We were +overhauling her rotten rigging, taking off, putting +on, and mending chafing gear every bit of our +time, Sunday included. The carpenter used horrible +language, but for his vexation I could have forgiven +him if he had expressed it more decently, +for he never had a moment’s rest by day; and +though a ship’s carpenter is exempt from watches +and allowed to sleep at night as a rule, I doubt if +he had two nights’ rest between Halifax and New +York.</p> + +<p>As Dennis put it, there was “any amount of +chicanery about the whole affair.” Some of our +pay was “set against” supplying “duds” for Dennis +to do dirty work in; Alister was employed as +sail-maker, and then, like the carpenter, was cheated +of his rest. As to food, we were nearly starved, +and should have fared even worse than we did, but +that the black cook was friendly towards us.</p> + +<p>“Dis <i>Water-Lily</i> ob ours a leetle ober-blown, +Dennis, I’m tinking,” said Alfonso, showing all his +white teeth. “Hope she not fall to pieces dis +voyage.”</p> + +<p>“Hope not, Alfonso. She hasn’t lost her scent, +<!-- Page 137 -->anyhow!” At which allusion to our unsavoury cargo +Alfonso yelled with laughter.</p> + +<p>For our favour with the cook (and it means hot +coffee, dry socks, and other little comforts being in +favour with the cook) we had chiefly to thank +Dennis. Our coal-black comrade loved jokes much, +but his own dignity just a little more; and the +instinctive courtesy which was as natural to Dennis +as the flow of his fun, made him particularly +acceptable to Alfonso.</p> + +<p>And for the rest, we came to feel that if we could +keep the <i>Water-Lily</i> afloat to the end of her voyage, +most other considerations were minor ones.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 138 -->CHAPTER X.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“May it please <span class="smcap">God</span> not to make our friends so happy as +to forget us!”—<i>Old Proverb</i>.</p></div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> <i>Water-Lily</i> was re-christened by Dennis, with +many flourishes of speech and a deck tub of salt +water long before we reached our journey’s end. +The <i>Slut</i>, as we now privately called her, defied all +our efforts to make her look creditable for New +York harbour, but we were glad enough to get her +there at all.</p> + +<p>We made the lights of Barnegat at about six +o’clock one fine morning, took a pilot on board at +Sandy Hook, and the <i>Slut</i> being by this time as +ship-shape as we could get her, we cleaned ourselves +to somewhat better purpose, put on our +shore-togs, and were at leisure to enjoy one of the +most charming sensations in the world, that of +making one’s way into a beautiful harbour on a +beautiful morning. The fresh breeze that favoured +us, the sunshine that—helped by the enchantment +<!-- Page 139 -->of distance—made warehouses look like public +buildings, and stone houses like marble palaces, a +softening hue of morning mist still dinging about +the heights, of Brooklyn and over the distant stretch +of the Hudson river islands, the sparkling waves +and dancing craft in the bay, and all the dear +familiar maze of spars and rigging in the docks; it +is wonderful how such sights, and the knowledge +that you are close to the haven where you would +be, charm away the sore memories of the voyage +past, and incline you to feel that it hasn’t been such +t’ a bad cruise after all.</p> + +<p>“Poor ole <i>Water-Lily</i>!” sighed Alfonso, under +the influence of this feeling, “you and me’s called +her a heap o’ bad names, Dennis; I ’spects we has +to have our grumbles, Dennis. Dat’s ’bout whar +‘tis.”</p> + +<p>“She’s weathered the storm and got into port, +anyhow,” said Dennis, “and I suppose you think +the best can do no more. Eh?”</p> + +<p>“Jes’ so, Dennis.”</p> + +<p>Alfonso was not far wrong on the subject of +grumbling. It is one of a sailor’s few luxuries and +privileges, and acts as safety-valve for heats of just +and unjust indignation, which might otherwise come +to dangerous explosion. We three had really learned +no mean amount of rough-and-ready seamanship by +<!-- Page 140 -->this time, and we had certainly practised the art of +grumbling as well. That “of all the dirty ill-found +tubs,” the <i>Slut</i> was the worst we had ever known, +our limited experience had made us safe in declaring, +and we had also been voluble about the undue +length of time during which we had been “humbugging +about” between Halifax and New York. +But these by-gones we now willingly allowed to be +by-gones, especially as we had had duff-pudding the +day before, though it was not Sunday—(Oh, Crayshaw’s! +that I should have lived to find duff-pudding +a treat—but it <i>is</i> a pleasant change from +salt meat),—and as the captain had promised some +repairs to the ship before we returned to Halifax.</p> + +<p>We were not long in discovering that the promise +was a safe one, for he did not mean to return to +Halifax at all. Gradually it leaked out, that when +the salt fish was disposed of we were not going to +take in ballast and go back, as we had thought, +but to stow away a “general cargo” of cheap manufactured +articles (chiefly hardware, toys, trumpery +pictures, and looking-glasses) and proceed with them +on a trading voyage “down south.”—“West Indies,” +said the carpenter. “Bermuda for certain,” was +another opinion; but Alfonso smiled and said, +“Demerara.”</p> + +<p>“Cap’n berry poor sailor, but berry good trader,” +<!-- Page 141 -->he informed us in confidence. “Sell ‘m stinking +fish and buy gimcracks cheap; sell gimcracks dear +to Portugee store in Georgetown, take in sugar—berry +good sugar, Demerara sugar—and come back +to New York.”</p> + +<p>Alfonso had made the voyage before on these +principles, and was all the more willing to believe +that this was to be the programme, because he was—at +such uncertain intervals as his fate ordained—courting +a young lady of colour in Georgetown, +Demerara. I don’t think Dennis O’Moore could +help sympathizing with people, and as a result of +this good-natured weakness, he heard a great deal +about that young lady of colour, and her genteel +clothes, and how she played the piano, and belonged +to the Baptist congregation.</p> + +<p>“I’ve a cousin myself in Demerara, Alfonso,” +said Dennis.</p> + +<p>“Hope she’m kind to you, Dennis. Hope you +can trust her, ’specially if the members walks home +with her after meeting.” And Alfonso sighed.</p> + +<p>But jokes were far too precious on board the +<i>Slut</i> for Dennis to spoil this one by explaining +that his cousin was a middle-aged gentleman in +partnership with the owner of a sugar estate.</p> + +<p>As we had sailed on the understanding that the +<i>Water-Lily</i> was bound to New York and back again +<!-- Page 142 -->to Halifax, of course we made a fuss and protested at +the change. But we had not really much practical +choice in the matter, whatever our strict rights were, +and on the whole we found it would be to our advantage +to go through with it, especially as we did secure +a better understanding about our wages, and the +captain promised us more rest on Sundays. On +one point we still felt anxious—our home letters; +so Dennis wrote to the post-master at Halifax, and +arranged for them to be forwarded to us at the post-office, +Georgetown, Demerara. For Alfonso was +right, we were bound for British Guiana, it being +however understood that we three were not under obligation +to make the return voyage in the <i>Water-Lily</i>.</p> + +<p>An odd incident occurred during our brief stay in +New York. It was after the interview in which we +came to terms with the captain, and he had given us +leave for three hours ashore. You can’t see very +much of a city when you have no money to spend in +it; but we had walked about till we were very hungry, +and yet more thirsty, for it was hot, when we all three +caught sight of a small shop (or store, as Americans +would call it), and we all spoke at once.</p> + +<p>“Cooling drinks!” exclaimed Dennis.</p> + +<p>“There’s cakes yonder,” said Alister.</p> + +<p>“Michael Macartney,” muttered I, for that was +the name over the door.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 143 -->We went in as a customer came out, followed by +Michael Macartney’s parting words in a rich brogue +that might have been old Biddy’s own. I took a +good look at him, which he returned with a civil +comment on the heat, and an inquiry as to what I +would take, which Dennis, in the thirstiness of his +throat, answered for me, leaving me a few moments +more of observation. I made a mental calculation, +and decided that the man’s age would fit Micky, and +in the indescribableness of the colour of his clothes +and his complexion he was undoubtedly like Biddy, +but if they had been born in different worlds the +expression of his eyes could not have been more +different. I had the clearest remembrance of hers. +One does not so often look into the eyes of a stranger +and see genuine feeling that one should forget it. +For the rest of him, I was glad that Biddy had allowed +that there was no similarity “betwixt us.” He had +a low forehead, a broad nose, a very wide mouth, full +of very large teeth, and the humorous twinkle in his +eye did not atone for the complete absence of that +steady light of honest tenderness which shone from +Biddy’s as freely and fearlessly as the sun shines. He +served Dennis and Alister and turned to me.</p> + +<p>“Have you a mother in Liverpool?” I asked, +before he had time to ask me which “pop” I wanted.</p> + +<p>As I have said, his mouth was big, but I was +<!-- Page 144 -->almost aghast at the size to which it opened, before +he was able to say, “Murther and ages! Was ye +there lately? Did ye know her?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I know her.”</p> + +<p>“And why would ye be standing there with the +cold pop, when there’s something better within? +Come in, me boy. So you’re acquainted with my +mother? And how was she?”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you, I don’t drink spirits. Yes; +your mother was well when I saw her.”</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">God</span> be praised! It’s a mighty long time since +I seen the ould craythur.”</p> + +<p>“Fifteen years,” said I.</p> + +<p>I looked at Mr. Macartney as I said it, but he had +evasive eyes, and they wandered to the doorway. No +customers appeared, however, and he looked back to +Dennis and Alister, but they had both folded their +arms, and were watching us in silence.</p> + +<p>“Murther and ages!” he repeated, “it doesn’t +feel the half of it.”</p> + +<p>“I fancy it seems longer, if anything, to her. +But she has been on the look-out for you every day, +you see. You’ve a good business, Mr. Macartney, so +I dare say you’re a ready reckoner. Fifteen times +three hundred and sixty-five? Five thousand four +hundred and seventy-five, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“It’s a fine scholar for a sailor-boy that ye are!” +<!-- Page 145 -->said Micky; and there was a touch of mischief in +his eye and voice which showed that he was losing +his temper. I suppose Dennis heard it, too, for he +took one bound to my side in a way that almost +made me laugh to feel how ready he was for a row. +But I knew that, after all, I had no right over the +man’s private affairs, warm as was my zeal for old +Biddy.</p> + +<p>“And you think I might mind my business and +leave you to yours, Mr. Macartney?” I said. “But +you see your mother was very kind to me, very kind +indeed; and when I left Liverpool I promised her if +ever I came across you, you should hear of her, and +she should hear of you.”</p> + +<p>“And why not?” he answered in mollified tones. +“It’s mighty good-natured in ye too. But come in, +all the three of ye, and have somethin’ to eat and +drink for the sake of the old country.”</p> + +<p>We followed him into a back parlour, where there +were several wooden rocking-chairs, and a strong +smell of stale tobacco. Here he busied himself in +producing cold meat, a squash pie, and a bottle of +whisky, and was as voluble as civil about every subject +except the one I wished to talk of. But the memory +of his mother was strong upon me, and I had no +intention of letting it slide.</p> + +<p>“I’m so glad to have found you,” I said. “I am +<!-- Page 146 -->sure you can’t have known what a trouble it has been +to your mother never to have heard from you all these +years.”</p> + +<p>“Arrah! And why should she bother herself over +me?” he answered impatiently. “Sure I never was +anything <i>but</i> a trouble to her, worse luck!” And +before I could speak again, he went on. “But make +your mind aisy, I’ll be writing to her. Many’s the +time that I’ve all but indited the letter, but I’ll do it +now. Upon me conscience, ye may dipind upon me.”</p> + +<p>Could I depend upon his shambling conscience? +Every instinct of an honest man about me answered, +No. As he had done for fifteen years past, so he +would do for fifteen years to come. As long as he +was comfortable himself, his mother would never get +a line out of him. Perhaps his voice recalled hers, +but I almost fancied I could hear her as I sat there.—“I +ax your pardon, darlin’. It was my own Micky +that was on my mind.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Mr. Macartney,” said I; “I want +you to do me a favour. I owe your mother a good +turn, and it’ll ease my mind to repay it. Sit down +whilst we’re enjoying your hospitality, and just write +her a line, and let me have the pleasure of finding a +stamp and putting it in the post with my own hands.”</p> + +<p>We argued the point for some time, but Micky +found the writing materials at last, and sat down to +<!-- Page 147 -->write. As he proceeded he seemed to become more +reconciled to the task; though he was obviously no +great scribe, and followed the sentiments he was +expressing with curious contortions of his countenance +which it was most funny to behold. By and by I was +glad to see a tear or two drop on to the paper, though +I was sorry that he wiped them up with his third +finger, and wrote over the place before it had time +to dry.</p> + +<p>“Murther and ages! But it’s mighty pleased that +she’ll be,” said Mr. Macartney when he had finished. +He looked mighty pleased with himself, and he held +the letter out to me.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean me to read it?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“I did. And ye can let your friends hear too.”</p> + +<p>I read it aloud, wondering as I read. If pen and +ink spoke the truth, Biddy’s own Micky’s heart was +broke entirely with the parting from his mother. +Sorra a bit of taste had there been in his food, or a +drop of natural rest had he enjoyed for the last fifteen +years. “Five thousand four hundred and seventy-five +days—no less.” (When I reached this skilful +adoption of my calculations, I involuntarily looked up. +There sat Mr. Macartney in his rocking-chair. He +was just lighting a short pipe, but he paused in the +operation to acknowledge what he evidently believed +to be my look of admiration with a nod and a wink. +<!-- Page 148 -->I read on.) Times were cruel bad out there for a +poor boy that lived by his industry, but thank <span class="smcap">God</span> +he’d been spared the worst pangs of starvation (I +glanced round the pop-shop, but, as Micky himself +would have said, No matther!); and didn’t it lighten +his heart to hear of his dear mother sitting content +and comfortable at her own coffee-stall. It was +murderously hot in these parts, and New York—bad +luck to it—was a mighty different place from the dear +old Ballywhack where he was born. Would they +ever see old Ireland again? (Here a big blot betrayed +how much Mr. Macartney had been moved by his +own eloquence.) The rest of the letter was rich with +phrases both of piety and affection. How much of +the whole composition was conscious humbug, and +whether any of it was genuine feeling, I have as little +idea now as I had then. The shallows of the human +heart are at least as difficult to sound as its depths, +and Micky Macartney’s was quite beyond me. One +thing about the letter was true enough. As he said, +it would “plaze the ould craythur intirely.”</p> + +<p>By the time I had addressed it, “Mrs. Biddy +Macartney, coffee-seller,” to the care of, the Dockgate-keeper, +we had not much spare time left in which +to stamp and post it, so we took leave of the owner +of the pop-shop. He was now very unwilling to let +us go. He did not ask another question about his +<!-- Page 149 -->mother, but he was consumed with trivial curiosity +about us. Once again he alluded to Biddy. We +were standing outside, and his eye fell upon the row +of shining pop-taps—</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t she be the proud woman now, av she +could see me!” he cried.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you get her out to live with you?” +I asked.</p> + +<p>He shook his head, “I’m a married man, +Mr. —— bad luck to me, I’ve forgotten your name +now!”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t trouble you with it. Well, I hope you’ll +go and see her before she dies.”</p> + +<p>But when I came to think of it, I did not feel sure +if that was what I wished. Not being a woman, how +could I balance the choice of pain? How could I +tell if it were better for her to be disappointed with +every ship and every tide, still having faith in her own +Micky, and hope of his coming, or for the tide and +the ship to bring him with all his meanness upon the +head she loved, a huge disappointment, once for all!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 150 -->CHAPTER XI.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +“Roose the fair day at e’en.”<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;"><i>Scotch Proverb</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">After</span> leaving New York, we no longer hugged the +coast. We stood right off, and to my great delight, +I found we were going to put in at Bermuda for repairs. +I never knew, but I always fancy that these +were done cheaper there than at New York. Or it +may merely have been because when we had been +at sea two days the wretched <i>Slut</i> leaked so that, +though we were pumping day and night, till we were +nearly worn out, we couldn’t keep the wet from the +gimcrack cargo.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for us the weather was absolutely +lovely, and though it was hot by day, we wore uncommonly +little clothing, and “carried our change of air +with us,” as Dennis said.</p> + +<p>As to the nights, I never can forget the ideal +beauty of the last three before we reached Bermuda. +I had had no conception of what starlight can be and +what stars can look like. These hanging lamps of the +<!-- Page 151 -->vast heavens seemed so strangely different from the +stars that “twinkle, twinkle,” as the nursery book has +it, through our misty skies at home. We were, in +short, approaching the tropics. Very beautiful were +the strange constellations of the midnight sky, the +magic loveliness of the moonlight, and the phosphorescence +of the warm waves, whilst the last exquisite +touch of delight was given by the balmy air. By day +the heat (especially as we had to work so hard in it) +made one’s enjoyment less luxurious, but if my love +for the sea had known no touch of disappointment on +the cold swell of the northern Atlantic, it would have +needed very dire discomfort to spoil the pleasure of +living on these ever-varying blue waters, flecked with +white foam and foam-like birds, through the clearness +of which we now and then got a peep of a peacock-green +dolphin, changing his colour with every leap and +gambol, as if he were himself a wave.</p> + +<p>Of living things (and, for that matter, of ships) we +saw far less than I expected, though it was more than +a fortnight from the time of our leaving Sandy Hook +to the night we lay off to the east of the Bermudas—the +warm lights from human habitations twinkling +among the islands, and the cold light of the moon +making the surf and coral reefs doubly clear against +the dark waters—waiting, but scarcely wishing, for the +day.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 152 -->As I have said, Alfonso was very black, and +Alfonso was very dignified. But his blackness, +compared with the blackness of the pilot who came +off at St. George’s Island, and piloted us through the +Narrows, was as that of a kid shoe to a boot that has +been polished by blacking. As to dignity, no comparison +can be made. The dignity of that nigger +pilot exceeded anything, regal, municipal, or even +parochial, that I have ever seen. As he came up the +ship’s side, Dennis was looking over it, and when the +pilot stood on deck Dennis fled abruptly, and Alister +declares it took two buckets of water to recover him +from the fit of hysterics in which he found him rolling +in the forecastle.</p> + +<p>The pilot’s costume bore even more reference to +his dignity than to the weather. He wore a pea-coat, +a tall and very shiny black hat, white trousers, and +neither shoes nor socks. His feet were like flat-irons +turned the wrong way, and his legs seemed to be +slipped into the middle of them, like the handles of +two queer-shaped hoes. His intense, magnificent +importance, and the bombastic way he swaggered +about the deck, were so perfectly absurd, that we three +youngsters should probably have never had any feeling +towards him but that of contempt, if it had not been +that we were now quite enough of seamen to appreciate +the skill with which he took us safely on our dangerous +<!-- Page 153 -->and intricate passage into harbour. How we ever got +through the Narrows, how he picked our way amongst +the reefs and islands, was a marvel. We came in so +close to shore that I thought we must strike every +instant, and so we should have done had there been +any blundering on his part.</p> + +<p>We went very slowly that day, as became the +atmosphere and the scene, the dangers of our way, and +the dignity of our guide.</p> + +<p>“It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good,” said +Dennis, as we hung over the side. “If it’s for repairs +we’ve put into Paradise, long life to the old tub and +her rotten timbers! I wouldn’t have missed <i>this</i> for +a lady’s berth in the West Indian Mail, and my +passage paid!”</p> + +<p>“Nor I.”</p> + +<p>“Nor I.”</p> + +<p><i>This</i> was indeed worth having gone through a good +deal to see. The channel through which we picked +our way was marked out by little buoys, half white and +half black, and on either side the coral was just awash. +Close at hand the water was emerald green or rosy +purple, according to its depth and the growths below; +half-a-mile away it was deep blue against lines of +dazzling surf and coral sand; and the reefs and +rocks amongst whose deadly edges our hideous pilot +steered for our lives, were like beds of flowers bloom<!-- Page 154 -->ing +under water. Red, purple, yellow, orange, pale +green, dark green, in patches quite milky, and in +patches a mass of all sorts of sea-weed, a gay garden +on a white ground, shimmering through crystal! +And down below the crabs crawled about, and the +fishes shot hither and thither; and over the surface of +the water, from reef to reef and island to island, the +tern and sea-gulls skimmed and swooped about.</p> + +<p>We anchored that evening, and the pilot went +ashore. Lovely as the day had been, we were (for +some mysterious reason) more tired at the end of it +than on days when we had been working three times +as hard. This, with Dennis, invariably led to mischief, +and with Alister to intolerance. The phase +was quite familiar to me now, and I knew it was +coming on when they would talk about the pilot. +That the pilot was admirably skilful in his trade, +and that he was a most comical-looking specimen of +humanity, were obvious facts. I quite agreed with +both Alister and Dennis, but that, unfortunately, did +not make them agree with each other. Not that +Dennis contradicted Alister (he pretended to be +afraid to do so), but he made comments that were +highly aggravating. He did not attempt to deny that +it was “a gran’ sight to see ony man do his wark +weel,” or that the African negro shared with us “our +common humanity and our immortal hopes,” but he +<!-- Page 155 -->introduced the quite irrelevant question of whether +it was not a loss to the Presbyterian Ministry that +Alister had gone to sea. He warmly allowed that +the pilot probably had his feelings, and added that +even he had his; that the Hat tried them, but that +the Feet were “altogether too many for them intirely.” +He received the information that the pilot’s feet were +“as his Creator made them,” in respectful silence, +and a few minutes afterwards asked me if I was aware +of the “curious fact in physiology,” that it took a +surgical operation to get a joke through a Scotchman’s +brain-pan.</p> + +<p>I was feeling all-overish and rather cross myself +towards evening, and found Alister’s cantankerousness +and Dennis O’Moore’s chaff almost equally tiresome. +To make matters worse, I perceived that Dennis was +now so on edge, that to catch sight of the black pilot +made him really hysterical, and the distracting thing +was, that either because I was done up, or because +such folly is far more contagious than any amount of +wisdom, I began to get quite as bad, and Alister’s +disgust only made me worse. I unfeignedly dreaded +the approach of that black hat and those triangular +feet, for they made me giggle in spite of myself, and +I knew a ship’s rules far too well not to know how +fearful would be the result of any public exhibition of +disrespect.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 156 -->However, we three were not always together, and +we had been apart a good bit when we met (as ill-luck +would have it) at the moment when the pilot’s +boat was just alongside, ready for his departure.</p> + +<p>“What’s the boat for?” asked Alister, who had +been below.</p> + +<p>“And who would it be for,” replied Dennis, “but +the gentleman in the black hat? Alister, dear! what’s +the reason I can’t tread on a nigger’s heels without +treading on your toes?”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” cried I, in torment, “he’s coming.”</p> + +<p>We stood at attention, but never can I forget the +agony of the next few minutes. That hat, that face, +those flat black feet, that strut, that smile. I felt a +sob of laughter beginning somewhere about my waist-belt, +and yet my heart ached with fear for Dennis. +Oh, if only His Magnificence would move a little +quicker, and let us have it over!</p> + +<p>There’s a fish at Bermuda that is known as the +toad-fish (so Alfonso told me), and when you tickle it +it blows itself out after the manner of the frog who +tried to be as big as an ox. It becomes as round as +a football, and if you throw it on the water it floats. +If you touch it it sounds (according to Alfonso) “all +same as a banjo.” It will live some time out of +water; and if it shows any signs of subsiding, another +tickle will blow it out again. “Too muchee tickle +<!-- Page 157 -->him burst,” said Alfonso. I had heard this decidedly +nasty story just before the pilot’s departure, and it +was now the culmination of all the foolish thoughts +that gibbered in my head. I couldn’t help thinking +of it as I held my breath to suppress my laughter, +and quaked for the yet more volatile Dennis. Oh, +dear! Why wouldn’t that mass of absurdity walk +quicker? His feet were big enough. Meanwhile we +stood like mutes—eyes front! To have looked at +each other would have been fatal. “Too muchee +tickle him burst.” I hope we looked grave (I have +little doubt now that we looked as if we were having +our photographs taken). The sob had mounted from +my waist to my throat. My teeth were set, my eyes +watered, but the pilot was here now. In a moment +he would be down the side. With an excess of zeal +I found strength to raise my hand for a salute.</p> + +<p>I fear it was this that pleased him, and made him +stop; and we couldn’t help looking at him. His hat +was a little set back for the heat, his black triangular +feet were in the third position of dancing. He smiled.</p> + +<p>There was an explosive sound to my right. I +knew what it meant. Dennis had “burst.”</p> + +<p>And then I never felt less like laughing in my +life. Visions of insubordination, disrespect, mutiny, +flogging, and black-hole, rushed through my head, +and I had serious thoughts of falling on my knees +<!-- Page 158 -->before the insulted pilot. With unfeigned gratitude +I record that he was as magnanimous as he was +magnificent. He took no revenge, except in words. +What he said was,</p> + +<p>“Me one coloured gentleman. You one dam +mean white trash ob common sailor. YAH!”</p> + +<p>And with unimpaired dignity he descended the +ladder and was rowed away over the prismatic waters. +And Alister and I turned round to look for Dennis, +and found him sitting in the scuppers, wiping the +laughter-tears out of his thick eyelashes.</p> + +<p>There was something fateful about that evening, +which was perhaps what made the air so heavy. If +I had been keeping the log, I should have made the +following entry: “Captain got drunk. A ring round +the moon. Alister and Dennis quarrelsome.”</p> + +<p>I saw the ring round the moon when I was rowing +the captain and the mate back from one of the +islands, where they had been ashore. Alfonso afterwards +pointed it out to me and said, “Tell you, Jack, +I’m glad dis ole tub in harbour now!” from which I +concluded that it was an omen of bad weather.</p> + +<p>Alister and Dennis were still sparring. I began +to think we’d better stretch a rope and let them have +it out with their fists, but I could not make out that +there was anything to fight about except that Alister +had accused Dennis of playing the fool, and Dennis +<!-- Page 159 -->had said that Alister was about as good company as a +grave-digger. I felt very feverish and said so, on +which they both began to apologize, and we all turned +in for some sleep.</p> + +<p>Next day we were the best of friends, and we got +leave to go ashore for a few hours. We were anchored +in Grassy Bay, off Ireland Island—that is, off the +island where the hulks are, and where the school-master +spent those ten long years. Alister and +Dennis wanted to take a boat and make for Harrington +Sound, a very beautiful land-locked sheet of +water, with one narrow entrance through which the +tide rushes like a mill-race, but when they heard my +reason for wanting to have a look at my friend’s old +place of labour and imprisonment, they decided to +stay with me, which, as it happened, was very lucky for +us all.</p> + +<p>We were all three so languid, that though there +was much to see and little time in which to see it, +when we found three firm and comfortable resting-places +among the blocks of white stone in the dockyard, +we sat down on them, and contented ourselves +with enjoying the beautiful prospect before us. And +it so happened that as Dennis said, “if we’d taken a +box for the Opera” we could not have placed ourselves +better for the marvellous spectacle that it was our +good luck to witness. I must try and tell it in order.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 160 -->The first thing we noticed was a change among +the sea-birds. They left their careless, graceful skimming +and swooping, and got into groups, wheeling +about like starlings, and uttering curious cries. And +scarcely had we become conscious of this change +among the birds, than a simultaneous flutter ran +through the Bermudian “rig-boats” which had been +skimming with equal carelessness about the bay. +Now they were hurriedly thrown up into the wind, +their wide mainsails lowered and reefed, whilst the +impulse spread as if by magic to the men-of-war and +ships in the anchorage. Down came the sails like +falling leaves, the rigging swarmed with men bracing +yards, lowering top-gallant masts, and preparing—we +could not conceive for what.</p> + +<p>“What, in the name of fortune ——” said Dennis.</p> + +<p>But at this moment Alister cried, “Look behind +ye, man!”</p> + +<p>We turned round, and this was what we saw:—</p> + +<p>The sky out to seaward was one great half-circle +of blue-black, but in what sailors call the eye of the +storm was another very regular patch, with true +curved outlines of the arc and the horizon. Under +this the sea was dazzlingly white, and then in front of +that it was a curious green-black, and it was tossing +and flopping about as if it did not know what to be +at. The wind was scarcely to be felt as wind, but we +<!-- Page 161 -->could hear it moaning in a dull way that was indescribably +terrifying. Gradually the blackness seemed to +come down over us as if it would swallow us up, and +when I looked back to the bay not a bird was to be +seen, and every boat was flying into shelter.</p> + +<p>And as they fled, there arose from the empty sea +and sky a strange hissing sound, which gradually grew +so intense that it became almost a roar; and, as the +noise increased, the white line on the horizon widened +and widened.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there came a lull. It quite startled us. +But about half-a-mile away, I could see over Alister’s +shoulders that the clouds were blacker, and the sea +took up the colour and seemed to heave and rock +more sulkily than before. There was no white water +here, only a greenish ink. And at the same moment +Dennis and Alister each laid a hand upon my arm, +but none of us spoke. We lost ourselves in intense +watching.</p> + +<p>For by degrees the black water, leaving its natural +motion, seemed to pile up under the black cloud, and +then, very suddenly, before one could see how it happened, +either the cloud stretched out a trunk to the +sea, or the sea to the cloud, and two funnel-shaped +masses were joined together by a long, twisting, whirling +column of water that neither sea nor sky seemed +able to break away from. It was a weird sight to see +<!-- Page 162 -->this dark shape writhe and spin before the storm, and +at last the base of it struck a coral reef, and it disappeared, +leaving nothing but a blinding squall of rain +and a tumult of white waves breaking on the reef. +And then the water whirled and tossed, and flung its +white arms about, till the whole sea, which had been +ink a few minutes before, had lashed itself into a vast +sheet of foam.</p> + +<p>We relaxed our grip of each other, and drew +breath, and Alister, stretching his arms seawards after +a fashion peculiar to him in moments of extreme +excitement, gave vent to his feelings in the following +words—</p> + +<p>“Sirs! yon’s a water-spout.”</p> + +<p>But before we had time to reply, a convict warder, +whom we had not noticed, called sharply to us, “Lie +down, or you’ll be blown down!” and the gale was +upon us. We had quite enough to do to hold on to +the ground, and keep the stone-dust out of our eyes +by shutting them. Further observations were impossible, +though it felt as if everything in the world +was breaking up, and tumbling about one’s ears.</p> + +<p>Luckily nothing did strike us, though not more +than a hundred yards away a row of fine trees went +down like a pack of cards, each one parallel with its +neighbour. House-tiles flew in every direction, shutters +were whipped off and whirled away; palm-trees +<!-- Page 163 -->snapped like fishing-rods, and when the wind-squall +had passed, and we sat up, and tried to get the sand +out of our ears, we found the whole place a mass of +<i>débris</i>.</p> + +<p>But when we looked seaward we saw the black +arch going as fast as it came. All sense of fever and +lassitude had left us. The air was fresh, and calm, +and bright, and within half-an-hour the tern and sea-gulls +were fishing over the reef and skimming and +swooping above the prismatic waters as before.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 164 -->CHAPTER XII.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -2.5em;">“Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -6.8em;">. . . . so shall inferior eyes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">That borrow their behaviours from the great,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.4em;">Grow great by your example, and put on</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -4em;">The dauntless spirit of resolution.”</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;"><i>King John</i>, V. i.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Creaky</span> doors” are said to “hang long,” and leaky +ships may enjoy a similar longevity. It certainly +was a curious fact that the <i>Water-Lily</i> hardly suffered +in that storm, though the damage done to shipping +was very great. Big and little, men-of-war and merchantmen, +very few escaped scot-free, and some dragged +their anchors and were either on the reef in the +harbour, or ran foul of one another.</p> + +<p>Repairs were the order of the day, but we managed +to get ours done and to proceed on our voyage, with +very little extra delay.</p> + +<p>I cannot say it was a pleasant cruise, though it +brought unexpected promotion to one of the Shamrock +three. In this wise:</p> + +<p><!-- Page 165 -->The mate was a wicked brute, neither more nor +less. I do not want to get into the sailor fashion of +using strong terms about trifles, but to call him less +than wicked would be to insult goodness, and if +brutality makes a brute, he was brute enough in all +conscience! Being short-handed at Bermuda, we had +shipped a wretched little cabin-boy of Portuguese +extraction, who was a native of Demerara, and glad to +work his passage there, and the mate’s systematic ill-treatment +of this poor lad was not less of a torture to +us than to Pedro himself, so agonizing was it to see, +and not dare to interfere; all we could do was to aid +him to the best of our power on the sly.</p> + +<p>The captain, though a sneaking, unprincipled kind +of man, was neither so brutal nor, unfortunately, so +good a seaman as the mate; and the consequence +of this was, that the mate was practically the master, +and indulged his Snuffy-like passion for cruelty with +impunity, and with a double edge. For, as he was +well aware, in ill-treating Pedro he made us suffer, and +we were all helpless alike.</p> + +<p>His hold over the captain was not from superior +seamanship alone. The <i>Water-Lily</i> was nominally +a “temperance” vessel, but in our case this only +meant that no rum was issued to the crew. In the +captain’s cabin there was plenty of “liquor,” and the +captain occasionally got drunk, and each time that he +<!-- Page 166 -->did so, the influence of the mate seemed riveted +firmer than before. Crews are often divided in their +allegiance, but the crew of the <i>Water-Lily</i> were of one +mind. From the oldest to the youngest we all detested +the mate, and a natural manliness of feeling +made us like the captain better than we ought otherwise +have done, because (especially as regards the +drinking) we considered his relations with the mate +to be characterized by anything but “fair play.” No +love was really lost between them, and if the captain +came on deck and took the lead, they were almost +certain to quarrel (and none the less so, that <i>we</i> +rushed with alacrity to obey the captain’s orders, +whereas with the mate’s it was all “dragging work,” +as nearly as we dare show unwillingness).</p> + +<p>What led to the extraordinary scene I am about to +relate, I do not quite know. I suppose a mixture of +things. Alister’s minute, unbroken study of what was +now his profession, the “almost monotonous” (so +Dennis said) perseverance with which he improved +every opportunity, and absorbed all experience and +information on the subject of seamanship, could hardly +escape the notice of any intelligent captain. Our +captain was not much of a seaman, but he was a cute +trader, and knew “a good article” in any line. The +Scotch boy was soon a better sailor than the mate, +which will be the less surprising, when one remembers +<!-- Page 167 -->how few men in any trade give more than about a +third of their real powers to their work—and Alister +gave all his. This, and the knowledge that he was +supported by the public opinion of a small but able-bodied +crew, may have screwed the captain’s courage +to the sticking-point, or the mate may have pushed +matters just too far; what happened was this:</p> + +<p>The captain and the mate had a worse quarrel +than usual, after which the mate rope’s-ended poor +Pedro till the lad lost consciousness, and whilst I was +comforting him below, the brute fumed up and down +deck like a hyena (“sight o’ blood all same as drink +to the likes of him,” said Alfonso, “make he drunk +for more”)—and vented some of his rage in abuse of +the captain, such as we had often heard, but which +no one had ever ventured to report. On this occasion +Alfonso did report it. As I have said, I only +knew results.</p> + +<p>At eight o’clock next morning all hands were +called aft.</p> + +<p>The captain was quite sober, and he made very +short work of it. He told us briefly and plainly that +the mate was mate no longer, and asked if we had +any wish as to his successor, who would be chosen +from the crew. We left the matter in his hands, as +he probably expected, on which, beckoning to Alister, +he said, “Then I select Alister Auchterlay. He has +<!-- Page 168 -->proved himself a good and careful seaman, and I +believe you all like and trust him. I beg you to +show this now by obeying him. And for the rest of +the voyage remember that he is <i>Mister</i> Auchterlay.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Auchterlay” more than justified the captain’s +choice. His elevation made no change in our friendship, +though the etiquette of the vessel kept us a +good deal apart, and Dennis and I were all the +“thicker” in consequence. Alister was not only +absolutely loyal to his trust, but his gratitude never +wearied of displaying itself in zeal. I often wondered +how much of this the captain had foreseen. As +Alfonso said, he was “good trader.”</p> + +<p>The latter part of the voyage was, in these altered +circumstances, a holiday to what had gone before. +The captain was never actually drunk again, and the +<i>Water-Lily</i> got to look clean, thanks largely to the +way Pedro slaved at scraping, sweeping, swabbing, +rubbing, and polishing, to please his new master. +She was really in something like respectable harbour +trim when we approached the coast of British Guiana.</p> + +<p>Georgetown, so Alfonso told me, looks very odd +from the sea. The first thing that strikes you being +the tops of the trees, which seem to be growing out +of the water; but as you get nearer you discover that +this effect is produced by the low level of the land, +which is protected from the sea by a sea-wall and +<!-- Page 169 -->embankment, I have no doubt Alfonso was right, +but when the time came I forgot all about it, for it +was not in ordinary circumstances that I first saw +Georgetown.</p> + +<p>It was one of those balmy, moonlit tropical nights +of which I have spoken; but when we were within +about an hour’s sail of the mouth of the Demerara +river, the sky ahead of us began to redden, as if the +evening had forgotten itself and was going back to +sunset. We made numberless suggestions, including +that of a display of fireworks in our honour; but as +the crimson spread and palpitated like an Aurora +Borealis, and then shot up higher and flooded a large +area of sky, Alister sang out “Fire!” and we all +crowded forward in anxious curiosity.</p> + +<p>As might be expected, Alfonso and Pedro were in +a state of the wildest excitement. Alfonso, of course, +thought of his lady-love, and would probably have +collapsed into complete despair, but for the necessity +of keeping up his spirits sufficiently to snub every +suggestion made by the cabin-boy, whose rival familiarity +with the topography of Georgetown he could +by no means tolerate; whilst Pedro, though docile as +a spaniel to us, despised Alfonso as only a half-caste +can despise a negro somewhat blacker than himself, +and burned for safe opportunities of displaying his +superiority. But when Pedro expressed a somewhat +<!-- Page 170 -->contemptuous conviction that this glowing sky was +the result of rubbish burning on plantations up the +country, and skilfully introduced an allusion to +relatives of his own who had some property in canefields, +Alfonso’s wrath became sublime.</p> + +<p>“You no listen to dat trash ob cabin-boy,” said +he. “Wait a bit, and I’se find him dirty work below +dat’s fit for he. Keep him from troubling gentlemen +like us wid him lies. Plantation? Yah! He make +me sick. Tell you, me know Demerary well ’nuff. +De town is in flames. Oh, my Georgiana!”</p> + +<p>So much, indeed, was beyond doubt before long, +and as the fire seemed perilously close to the wharves +and shipping, the captain decided to lie off for the +night. The thermometer in his cabin stood at ninety +degrees, which perhaps accounted for his having no +anxiety to go ashore; but, in spite of the heat, Dennis +and I were wild to see what was going on, and when +Alister called to us to help to lower the jolly-boat, +and we found we were to accompany him, we were +not dilatory with the necessary preparations, and were +soon rapidly approaching the burning town.</p> + +<p>It was a strange sight as we drew nearer and +hearer. Before us, on the sea, there was a line where +the cold silver of the moonshine met the lurid reflections +of the fiery sky, and the same cool light and +hot glow changed places over our cheeks as we turned +<!-- Page 171 -->our heads, and contrasted on the two sides of the +sail of the jolly-boat. And then we got within ear-shot. +A great fire is terrible to see, but it is almost +more terrible to hear, and it is curious how like it is +to the sound of great waters or a great wind. The +roar, the hiss, the crackle, the pitiless approach—as +Dennis said,</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell ye what it is, Jack. These elemental +giants, when they do break loose from our service, +have one note of defiance amongst them; and it’s +that awe-ful roar!”</p> + +<p>When we stood in the street where the fire was, it +was deafening, and it kept its own distinctness above +all other noises; and with the fire-bells, the saving +and losing of household goods, and the trampling +and talking of the crowd, there were noises not a few. +Dennis and I were together, for Alister had business +to do, but he had given us leave to gratify our +curiosity, adding a kindly warning to me to take care +of myself, and keep “that feather-brained laddie,” +Dennis, out of danger’s way. We had no difficulty +in reaching the point of interest, for, ludicrous to say, +the fire was in Water Street; that is, it was in the +street running parallel with the river and the wharves, +the main business street of Georgetown. We were +soon in the thick of the crowd, protecting our eyes +from the falling fragments of burning wood, and +<!-- Page 172 -->acquiring information. That heap of smoking embers—so +we were told—was the big store where it first +broke out; the house yonder, where the engines were +squirting away, and the fire putting tongues of flame +out of the windows at them, as if in derision, cost +two thousand dollars—“Ah! there goes the +roof!”</p> + +<p>It fell in accordingly; and, in the sudden blaze of +its destruction, I saw a man come riding along, before +whom the people made way, and then some one +pulled me back and said,</p> + +<p>“The governor.”</p> + +<p>He stopped near us, and beckoned some one to +his side.</p> + +<p>“Is he coming?”</p> + +<p>“He’s here, sir;” and then into the vivid glare +stepped a tall, graceful, and rather fantastical-looking +young gentleman in a white jacket, and with a long +fair moustache, who raised his hand with a quick +salute, and then stood at the governor’s stirrup.</p> + +<p>“I know that fellow, I’m sure,” said Dennis.</p> + +<p>“Royal Engineers officer,” said my neighbour. +“Mark my words, that means gunpowder,” and the +good man, who was stout and steaming with perspiration, +seemed to feel like one who has asked for a +remedy for toothache and been answered by the +dentist—“Gunpowder is what it means! And if our +<!-- Page 173 -->governor had sent for a cobbler, <i>he’d</i> have said, +‘Nothing like leather,’ and mended the hose of the +steam-pump. And that store of mine, sir, didn’t cost +a cent less than ——”</p> + +<p>But I was watching the engineer officer, and +catching fragments of the rapid consultation.</p> + +<p>“Quite inevitable, sir, in my opinion.”</p> + +<p>“Very good. You have full powers—instruct—colonel—magazine—do +your best.”</p> + +<p>The engineer officer had very long white hands, +which I noticed as one went rapidly to his forehead, +whilst with the other he caressed the dark nose of the +governor’s horse, which had been rubbing its head +against his shoulder. And then the governor rode +away and left him.</p> + +<p>The word “gunpowder” seemed to have brought +soldiers to the spot in a sort of natural sequence. +There was more quick saluting and short orders, and +then all disappeared but one bronzed-looking sergeant, +who followed the engineer stripling up and down as +he jerked his head, and pulled his moustache, and +seemed to have some design upon the gutters of the +house-eaves, which took a good deal of explaining +and saluting. Then we heard wheels and running +footsteps, and I became sensible of great relief from +the pressure of the crowd. The soldiers had come +back again, running a hand-cart with four barrels of +<!-- Page 174 -->gunpowder, and the public made way for them even +more respectfully than for the governor. As they set +it down and wiped their faces, the sergeant began +to give orders rather more authoritatively than his +superior, and he also pointed to the gutters; on +which the soldiers vanished as before.</p> + +<p>“Can’t we help, I wonder?” said I.</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I’m thinking,” said Dennis, and +he strode up to the officer. But he was busy with his +subordinate.</p> + +<p>“Well, sergeant?”</p> + +<p>“Not a fuse in the place, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Pretty state of things! Get a hatchet.”</p> + +<p>“They sent one, sir.”</p> + +<p>“All right. This is the house.”</p> + +<p>“The roof <i>’as</i> caught, you know, sir?”</p> + +<p>“The less time to waste,” was the reply, and the +young man took up a barrel in his hands and walked +in with it, kicking the door open with his foot. The +sergeant must almost have trodden on his officer’s +heels, as he followed with the second, and before I +could speak Dennis had shouldered the third.</p> + +<p>“Here’s diversion!” said he, and away he went.</p> + +<p>There was the fourth barrel and there was I. I +confess that I felt a twinge, but I followed the rest, +and my barrel behaved as well as if it had been a +cask of molasses, though the burning wood fell +<!-- Page 175 -->thickly over us all. As I groped my way in, the +sergeant and Dennis came out, and by the time that +they and some soldiers returned, dragging pieces of +house-gutters after them, the fantastic young officer +was pouring the gunpowder into a heap in the middle +of the floor, by the light of a corner of the ceiling +which was now on fire, and I was holding up a +shutter, under his orders, to protect it from premature +sparks. When he set down the barrel he shook some +dirt from his fingers, and then pushing back his white +shirt-sleeves from his wrists; he filled his joined hands +as full with gunpowder as they would hold, and +separating them very slightly let a tiny stream run +out on to the floor as he walked backwards; and, +as fast as this train was laid, the thin line was covered +from falling embers by the gutters turned over it +upside down. Through the room, down along a +passage between two houses, and so into the street, +where the crowd had more or less assembled again. +Then the officer emptied his hands, dusted them +together, and said, “Clear everybody out.”</p> + +<p>The sergeant saluted—“May I fire it, sir?”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you, sergeant; clear everybody out.” +The sergeant was evidently disappointed, and vented +this on the civilian public.—“<i>That</i>” said he, turning +a blackened thumb over his shoulder, “is a ’eap of +gunpowder. It’s just a going to be hexploded.” +<!-- Page 176 -->There was no need to “clear everybody out.” <i>They +went</i>. And we found ourselves alone with the +soldiers, who were laughing, and saying that the +crowd had taken a big cast-iron tank for the heap of +gunpowder. We stood a little aside in obedience to +a wave of the young officer’s arm. Then he crossed +the street to pick up a long piece of burning wood, +and came back, the moonlight and the firelight +playing by turns upon him.</p> + +<p>I honestly confess that, fierce as the heat was, +I turned cold. The experiences of the next few +minutes were as follows: I saw the young engineer +fire the train, and I heard a puff, and then I saw +him fall, face downwards, behind the tank. I gave +a cry, and started forward, and was brought up short +by a back-hander on my chest from the sergeant. +Then came a scrambling, rushing sound, which +widened into a deep roar, shaking the ground beneath +our feet, and then the big building at which we were +gaping seemed to breathe out a monstrous sigh, and +then it fell in, and tumbled to pieces, quietly, swiftly, +and utterly, like a house of cards.</p> + +<p>And the fantastic-looking young officer got up and +shook himself, and worried the bits of charred wood +out of his long yellow moustaches.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 177 -->CHAPTER XIII.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Die Welt kann dir nichts darbieten, was sie von dir nicht +empfinge.”—<span class="smcap">Schiller</span>, <i>Der Menschenfeind</i>.</p></div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">After</span> Alister had done the captain’s business, he +made his way to the post-office and got our letters, +thinking, as he cannily observed, that in widespread +misfortunes the big are implicated with the little, +that fire spares public buildings no more than private +residences, and that if the post-office was overtaken +by the flames, we might lose not only words of +affection, but perhaps enclosures of value. In short, +he had brought our letters, and dearly welcome they +were.</p> + +<p>I had three; one from my father, one from my +mother (with a postscript by Jem), and a long one +from Charlie. I read my father’s first; the others +were sure to be tender and chatty, and I could enjoy +them at leisure.</p> + +<p>My father’s letter was, for him, a wonderful +effort of composition, and it was far kinder than I +<!-- Page 178 -->had expected or deserved. He blamed me; but +he took some blame to himself for our misunderstandings, +which he hoped would never recur. He +said (very justly) that if he had spoken harshly, he +had acted as he believed to be best for me. Uncle +Henry’s office was an opening many parents envied +for their sons, and he had not really believed that +my fancy for the sea was more than a boyish whim. +He was the last man in the world to thwart a real +vocation, and no doubt (as my Uncle Henry and he +had agreed, and, thank <span class="smcap">God</span>, they had had a very +pleasant brotherly bit of chat over old times, and a +glass of my grandfather’s 1815 port) every Briton had +a natural tendency to rule the waves, and it was +stronger in some lads than others, as <i>Robinson +Crusoe</i> alone would prove, a book which my uncle +remembered had nearly cost him his life on a badly-made +raft on the mill-dam, when he was a lad, and +which would be read by boys with the real stuff in +them, when half these modern books the Woods +littered the farm parlour with were lighting the fire. +My Uncle Henry had come forward in a very +gratifying way. He had mentioned that Benson, an +exceedingly intelligent clerk of his, had spoken of +me in the highest terms, and seemed to think that +there was hardly anything in the way of distinction +in an adventurous career which might not be open +<!-- Page 179 -->to me. I was not to be made vain by this, as Benson +appeared to be an affectionate fellow, with a respect +for the family of his employer very rare in these days. +It had been a great comfort to my father, this visit +from Uncle Henry. They were both greyheaded +now, and Jem and I were all they had to come after +them. Blood was thicker than water. As to my +poor mother ——</p> + +<p>For a few minutes the letter danced up and down +as if writ in water; then I dried my eyes, and found +that she bore up pretty well in hopes of my return, +and that Uncle Henry was communicating by this +mail with a man of business in Halifax, N.S., who +was instructed to take a passage home for me in a +good vessel, and to defray any expenses of a reasonable +nature in connection with my affairs. When I +was safe home, my father added, he would take the +best advice as to sending me to sea in a proper and +suitable way. Dr. Brown had some relatives who +were large ship-owners, and he seemed to be much +interested in my career, out of regard to the family. +I was to let nothing hinder me from coming home +at once, as I valued the love and blessing of my +affectionate father.</p> + +<p>My mother’s letter was infinitely tender, and it +was curiously strong. Not a reproach of a lamentation, +but some good counsel, shrewd as well as +<!-- Page 180 -->noble, and plenty of home news. Only at the end +did she even speak of herself: “You see, my son, +I have never had men belonging to me who earned +their livelihood in foreign countries and by dangerous +ways, but you may trust your old mother to learn +to do and bear what other mothers go through with. +She will learn to love the sea because you are a +sailor, but, Jack, you must always give her a woman’s +bitter-sweet privilege of saying good-bye, and of +packing up your things. I am getting the time over +till you come back with socks. I am afraid they will +blister your feet. Martha does not like them because +they are like what the boys wear in the coal-pits, but +Dr. Brown declares they are just right. He chose +the worsted when we went to see Miss Bennet’s +mother at the Berlin shop, and left it himself as he +drove home, with a bottle of red lavender for my +palpitations. I shall never forget his kindness. He +sat here for an hour and a half on Sunday, and spoke +of you to your father as if you had been his own son; +and he said himself as he walked up and down Miss +Bennet’s, right through the shop and into the back +parlour and out again, talking about you, till the +place was quite full, and Mrs. Simpson could not +remember what she had dropped in for, which, as +Dr. Brown said, was not to be wondered at, considering +Miss Bennet completely forgot to take him +<!-- Page 181 -->up-stairs to see her mother, and it never crossed his +own mind till he stopped at our door and found the +old lady’s sleeping draught with my red drops. He +says he called at your Uncle Henry’s office, and congratulated +him on having a nephew of spirit, and it +was market day, so the office was full. Jem says I +am to leave room for him, as he can’t think of enough +to say to fill a letter of his own, so I will only say +<span class="smcap">God</span> bless you! my darling boy, and bring you safe +home to your poor mother.</p> + +<p>“P.S.—If you love me come as quick as you can. +You shall go off again.”</p> + +<p>This was Charlie’s letter:</p> + + +<p>“<span class="smcap">My dear Jack</span>—I was so glad to get your +letter. I knew you had gone off at last. It did not +surprise me, for I was sure you would go some day. +I believe I have a very mean spirit, for I felt rather +hurt at first that you did not tell me; but Mr. Wood +gave me a good scolding, and said I was not fit to +have a friend if I could not trust him out of sight or +out of hearing. And that’s quite true. Besides, I +think I knew more about it after Jem had been down. +He has been so jolly to me since you left. It must +be a splendid life on board ship, and I am glad you +have been in the rigging, and didn’t fall off. I wish +you had seen an iceberg or a water-spout, but perhaps +<!-- Page 182 -->you will. For two days and two nights I was very +miserable, and then Jenny rode down on Shag, and +brought me a book that did me a great deal of good, +and I’ll tell you why. It’s about a man whose friend +is going to travel round the world, like you, and he +has to be left behind, like me. Well, what does he +do but make up his mind to travel round his own +garden, and write a history of his adventures, just +as if he had been abroad. And that’s the book; and +you can’t tell what a jolly one it is. I mean to do +the same, only as you are at sea I shall call it a Log, +‘Log of a Voyage round the Garden, the Croft, and +the Orchard, by the Friend he left behind him,’ +That’s good, isn’t it? I’ve been rather bothered +about whether I should have separate books for each, +or mix them all up; and then, besides, I’ve got to +consider how to manage about the different times of +year, for you know, of course, the plants and the +beasts and everything are different at different times; +but if I have a log of each place for each month, it +would not be done by the time you come home. I +think perhaps I shall have note-books for the four +seasons, and that’ll take a good while. Two of the +best chapters in Jenny’s book are called ‘on my face’ +and ‘on my back,’ and they are about what he sees +lying on his face and then on his back. I’m going +to do the same, and put down everything, just as it +<!-- Page 183 -->comes; beetles, chrysalises, flowers, funguses, mosses, +earth-nuts, and land-snails, all just as I find them. If +one began with different note-books for the creatures, +and the plants, and the shells, it would be quite +endless. I think I shall start at that place in the +hedge in the croft where we found the bumble-bee’s +nest. I should like to find a mole-cricket, but I +don’t know if they live about here. Perhaps our soil +isn’t light enough for them to make their tunnels in, +but one ought to find no end of curious burrowing +creatures when one is on one’s face, besides grubs of +moths to hatch afterwards. When I am on my back, +I fancy what I shall see most of are spiders. You +can’t conceive what a lot of spiders there are in the +world, all sorts and sizes. They are divided into +hunters, wanderers, weavers, and swimmers. I expect +you’ll see some queer ones, if you go to hot places. +And oh, Jack! talking of burrows, of course you’re +in Nova Scotia, and that’s where Cape Sable is, +where the stormy petrels make their houses in the +sand. They are what sailors call Mother Carey’s +chickens, you know. I’m sure we’ve read about +them in adventure books; they always come with +storms, and sailors think they build their nests on +the wave. But they don’t, Jack, so <i>you</i> mustn’t think +so. They make burrows in the sand, and all day +they are out on the wing, picking up what the storms +<!-- Page 184 -->toss to the top, and what the cooks throw overboard, +and then they go home, miles and miles and miles +at night, and feed their young. They don’t take the +trouble to make houses if they can find any old +rabbit-burrows near enough to the sea, Mr. Wood +says; like the puffins. Do you know, one evening +when old Isaac came to see me, I made him laugh +about the puffins till the tears ran down his face. It +was with showing him that old stuffed puffin, and +telling him how the puffin gets into a rabbit-burrow, +and when the rabbit comes back they set to and fight, +and the puffin generally gets the best of it with having +such a great hooked nose. Isaac <i>was</i> so funny. He +said he’d seen the rabbits out on the spree many and +many a moonlight night when sober folks were in +bed; and then he smacked his knees and said, ‘But +I’d give owt to see one on ’em just nip home and +find a Pooffin upon t’ hearthstun.’ And, my dear +Jack, who else has been to see me, do you think? +Fancy! Lorraine! You remember our hearing the +poor Colonel was dead, and had left Lorraine all that +he had? Well, do you know it is a great deal more +than we thought. I mean he’s got a regular estate +and a big house with old pictures inside, and old +trees outside. Quite a swell. Poor Lorraine! I +don’t mean poor because of the estate, because he’s +rich, of course; but do you know, I think he’s sadder +<!-- Page 185 -->than ever. He’s very much cut up that the Colonel +died, of course, but he seems desperate about everything, +and talks more about suicide than he did at +Snuffy’s, Jem says. One thing he is quite changed +about; he’s so clean! and quite a dandy. He looked +awfully handsome, and Jenny said he was beautifully +dressed. She says his pocket-handkerchief and his +tie matched, and that his clothes fitted him so +splendidly, though they were rough. Well, he’s got +a straight back, Jack; like you! It’s hard he can’t +be happy. But I’m so sorry for him. He went on +dreadfully because you’d gone, and said that was just +his luck, and then he wished to Heaven he were with +you, and said you were a lucky dog, to be leading a +devil-me-care life in the open air, with nothing to +bother you. He didn’t tell me what he’d got to +bother him. Lots of things, he said. And he said +life was a wretched affair, all round, and the only +comfort was none of his family lived to be old.</p> + +<p>“<i>Wednesday.</i> I had to stop on Monday, my head +and back were so bad, and all yesterday too. Dr. +Brown came to see me, and talked a lot about you. +I am better to-day. I think I had rather wound up +my head with note-books. You know I do like +having lists of everything, and my sisters have been +very good. They got a lot of ruled paper very cheap, +and have made me no end of books with brown-paper +<!-- Page 186 -->backs, and Dr. Brown has given me a packet of bottle +labels. You’ve only got to lick them and stick them +on, and write the titles. He gave me some before, +you remember, to cut into strips to fasten the specimens +in my fern collection. I’ve got a dozen and a +half books, but there will not be one too many. You +see eight will go at once, with the four seasons ‘on +my face,’ and the four ‘on my back.’ Then I want +two or three for the garden. For one thing I must +have a list of our perennials. I am collecting a good +lot. Old Isaac has brought me no end of new ones +out of different gardens in the village, and now the +villagers know I want them, they bring me plants +from all kinds of out-of-the-way places, when they +go to see their friends. I’ve taken to it a good deal +the last few weeks, and I’ll tell you why. It was the +week before you ran away that Bob Furniss came +up one evening, and for a long time I could not think +what he was after. He brought me a Jack-in-the-green +polyanthus and a crimson Bergamot from his +mother, and he set them and watered them, and said +he ‘reckoned flowers was a nice pastime for any one +that was afflicted,’ but I felt sure he’d got something +more to say, and at last it came out. He is vexed +that he used to play truant so at school and never +learned anything. He can’t read a newspaper, and +he can’t write or reckon, and he said he was ‘shamed’ +<!-- Page 187 -->to go to school and learn among little boys, and he +knew I was a good scholar, and he’d come to ask if +I would teach him now and then in the evening, and +he would work in the garden for me in return. I +told him I’d teach him without that, but he said he +‘liked things square and fair,’ and Mr. Wood said +I was to let him; so he comes up after work-hours +one night and I teach him, and then he comes up +the next evening and works in the garden. It’s very +jolly, because now I can plot things out my own way, +and do them without hurting my back. I’m going +to clear all the old rose-bushes out of the shady +border. The trees are so big now, it’s so shady that +the roses never come to anything but blight, and I +mean to make a fernery there instead. Bob says +there’s a little wood belonging to Lord Beckwith that +the trustees have cut down completely, and it’s going +to be ploughed up. They’re stubbing up the stumps +now, and we can have as many as we like for the +carting away. Nothing makes such good ferneries, +you get so many crannies and corners. Bob says it’s +not far from the canal, and he thinks he could borrow +a hand-cart from the man that keeps the post-office +up there, and get a load or two down to the canal-bank, +and then fetch them down to our place in the +<i>Adela</i>. Oh, how I wish you were here to help! +Jem’s going to. He’s awfully kind to me now you’re +<!-- Page 188 -->gone. Talking of the <i>Adela</i> if you are very long +away (and some voyages last two or three years), I +think I shall finish the garden, and the croft and the +orchard, or at any rate one journey round them; and +I think for another of your voyages I will do the log +of the <i>Adela</i> on the canal, for with water-plants, +and shells, and larvæ, and beasts that live in the +banks, it would be splendid. Do you know, one +might give a whole book up easily to a list of nothing +but willows and osiers, and the different kinds of +birds and insects that live in them. But the number +of kinds there are of some things is quite wonderful. +What do you think of more than a hundred species +of iris, and I’ve only got five in the garden, but one +of them is white. I don’t suppose you’ll have much +time to collect things, but I keep hoping that some +day, if I live, you’ll command a ship of your own, +and take me with you, as they do take scientific men +some voyages. I hope I shall live. I don’t think I +get any worse. Cripples do sometimes live a long +time. I asked Dr. Brown if he believed any cripple +had ever lived to be a hundred, and he said he didn’t +know of one, nor yet ninety, nor eighty, for I asked +him. But he’s sure cripples have lived to be seventy. +If I do, I’ve got fifty-four years yet. That sounds +pretty well, but it soon goes, if one has a lot to do. +Mr. Wood doesn’t think it likely you could command +<!-- Page 189 -->a vessel for twenty years at least. That only leaves +thirty-four for scientific research, and all the arranging +at home besides. I’ve given up one of my books to +plotting this out in the rough, and I see that there’s +plenty of English work for twenty years, even if I +could count on all my time, which (that’s the worst +of having a bad back and head!) I can’t. There’s +one thing I should like to find out, if ever you think +of going to Japan, and that’s how they dwarf big +plants like white lilacs, and get them to flower in tiny +pots. Isaac says he thinks it must be continual +shifting that does it—shifting and forcing. But I +fancy they must have some dodge of taking very +small cuttings from particular growths of the wood. +I mean to try some experiments. I am marking your +journeys on a map, and where anything happens to +you I put A, for adventure, in red ink. I have put +A where you picked up Dennis O’Moore. He must +be very nice. Tell him I hope I shall see him some +day, and your Scotch friend too; I hope they won’t +make you quite forget your poor friend Charlie.</p> + +<p>“P.S.—Since I finished, a parcel came. What do +you think Lorraine has done? He has paid for me +to be a life member of a great London library, and +sent me the catalogue. I can have out fifteen books +at a time. There are hundreds of volumes. I can’t +write any more, my back aches so with putting crosses +<!-- Page 190 -->against the books I want to read. The catalogue is +rather heavy. I think I shall use one of my books to +make a list in of what I want to read during this year. +Isn’t it good of Lorraine? Poor Lorraine!”</p> + + +<p>Having devoured my own letters, I looked up +to see how my comrades were enjoying their share of +the budget which the Halifax postmaster had faithfully +forwarded.</p> + +<p>The expression on Dennis O’Moore’s face was so +mixed that it puzzled me, but he did not look satisfied +with his letter, for he kept drawing it out again, and +shaking it, and peeping into the envelope as if he had +lost something. At last he put the whole thing into +his pocket with a resigned air, and drove his hands +through his black curls, saying,</p> + +<p>“The squire all over, <span class="smcap">God</span> help him!”</p> + +<p>“What has he done now?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Sent me twenty pounds, and forgotten to enclose +it!”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 191 -->CHAPTER XIV.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -6.4em;">“Thus the merry Pau-Puk-Keewis</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.9em;">Danced his Beggar’s Dance to please them,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">And, returning, sat down laughing.”—<i>Hiawatha</i>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.9em;">“<span class="smcap">God</span> be thanked, the meanest of His creatures</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">Boasts two soul-sides; one to face the world with,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.7em;">One to show a woman when he loves her.”</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17.5em;"><span class="smcap">Robert Browning</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> fact that when we got back to the <i>Water-Lily</i>, +Alister found the captain dead drunk in his cabin, +sealed our resolution to have nothing more to do +with her when we were paid off, and our engagement +ended (as had been agreed upon) in the Georgetown +harbour. There was no fear that we should fail to +get berths as common seamen now, if we wanted +them; and there was not a thing to regret about the +<i>Slut</i>, except perhaps Alfonso, of whom we were +really fond. As it turned out, we had not even to +mourn for him, for he cut cable from the <i>Water-Lily</i> +too, having plans of his own, about which he made +a great deal of mystery and displayed his wonted +<!-- Page 192 -->importance, but whether they were matrimonial or +professional, I doubt if even Dennis knew at the +time.</p> + +<p>Alister <i>had</i> something to lose. It was not a small +consideration to give up his mate’s berth, but he said +the whole conduct of the ship was “against his +conscience,” and that settled the matter, to him.</p> + +<p>When we were our own masters once more, we +held another big council about our future. If I went +home at once, I must, somehow or other, get back to +Halifax before I could profit by Uncle Henry’s arrangement. +If Dennis went home, he must equally +depend on himself, for there was no saying when the +Squire would, or would not, find out and rectify his +omission. Alister’s mother had sent him some stamps +for postage, and his paternal relative had sent him a +message to the effect that having had neither word +nor wittens of him for a considerable period, and +having feared the worst, he was thankful to learn of +his safe arrival in Halifax, Nova Scotia; and trusted +that the step he had taken, if a thought presumptuous +at his years, yet betokened a spirit of self-reliance, +and might prove not otherwise than conducive to his +welfare in the outcome.</p> + +<p>Altogether, we were, practically, as much dependent +on ourselves as when we sat under the pine-trees +in Nova Scotia.<!-- Page 193 --></p> + +<p>“We’ll look up my cousin, to begin with,” said +Dennis.</p> + +<p>“Are ye pairfectly convinced that he’s here?” +asked Alister, warned by his own experience.</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said Dennis.</p> + +<p>“Have ye corresponded with him of late?” +pursued Alister.</p> + +<p>“Not I, indeed. The O’Moores are by no means +good letter-writers at the best of times, but he’d have +let us know if he was dead, anyhow, and if he’s alive, +we’ll be as welcome as the flowers.”</p> + +<p>Before Alister could reply, he was interrupted by +a message from our late captain. The <i>Water-Lily</i> +was still in harbour, and the captain wanted the ex-mate +to help him on some matters connected with +the ship or her cargo. Alister would not refuse, and +he was to be paid for the job, so we hastily arranged +that he should go, and that Dennis and I should +devote the evening to looking up the Irish cousin, +and we appointed to meet on the “stelling” or wharf, +alongside of which the <i>Water-Lily</i> lay, at eleven +o’clock on the following morning.</p> + +<p>“I was a fool not to speak to that engineer fellow +the other night,” said Dennis, as we strolled on the +shady side of a wide street, down the middle of which +ran a wide water-dyke fringed with oleanders. “He +would be certain to know where my cousin’s place is.”<!-- Page 194 --></p> + +<p>“Do you know him?” I asked, with some eagerness, +for the young officer was no small hero in +my eyes.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, quite well. He’s a lieutenant in the +Engineers. He has often stayed at my father’s for +shooting. But he has been abroad the last two or +three years, and I suppose I’ve grown. He didn’t +know ——”</p> + +<p>“There he is!” said I.</p> + +<p>He was coming out of a garden-gate on the other +side of the street. But he crossed the road, saying, +“Hi, my lads!” and putting his hand into his pocket +as he came.</p> + +<p>“Here’s diversion, Jack!” chuckled Dennis; “he’s +going to tip us for our assistance in the gunpowder +plot. Look at him now! Faith, he’s as short of +change as myself. How that half-crown’s eluding +him in the corner of his pocket! It’ll be no less, +I assure ye. He’s a liberal soul. Now for it!”</p> + +<p>And as the young lieutenant drew near, Dennis +performed an elaborate salute. But his eyes were +brimming with roguishness, and in another moment +he burst out laughing, and after one rapid glance, and +a twist of his moustache that I thought must have +torn it up by the roots, the young officer exploded in +the same fashion.</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dennis</span>!—What in the name of the mother of +<!-- Page 195 -->mischief (and I’m sure she was an O’Moore) are you +masquerading in that dress for, out here?” But +before Dennis could reply, the lieutenant became +quite grave, and turning him round by the arm, said, +“But this isn’t masquerading, I see. Dennis, my +dear fellow, what does it mean?”</p> + +<p>“It means that I was a stowaway, and my friend +here a castaway—I mean that I was a castaway, and +Jack was a stowaway. Willie, do you remember +Barton?”</p> + +<p>“Old Barney? Of course I do. How did he +come to let you out of his sight?”</p> + +<p>Dennis did not speak. I saw that he could not, +so I took upon me to explain.</p> + +<p>“They were out in the hooker, off the Irish coast, +and she went to pieces in a gale. Old Barney was +lost, and we picked Dennis up.”</p> + +<p>He nodded to me, and with his hand through +Dennis O’Moore’s arm, said kindly, “We’ll go to my +quarters, and talk it over. Where are you putting up?”</p> + +<p>“We’re only just paid off,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Then you’ll rough it with me, of course, both +of you.”</p> + +<p>I thanked him, and Dennis said, “Willie, the one +thing I’ve been wanting to ask you is, if you know +where that cousin of my father’s lives, who is in +business out here. Do you know him?”<!-- Page 196 --></p> + +<p>“Certainly. I’m going there to-night, for a dance, +and you shall come with me, I can rig you out.”</p> + +<p>They went ahead, arm-in-arm, and I followed at +just sufficient distance behind to catch the backward +looks of amazement which the young officer’s passing +friends were too polite to indulge when exactly on a +level with him. He capped first one and then another +with an air of apparent unconsciousness, but the contrast +between his smart appearance and spotless white +uniform, and the patched remains of Dennis’s homespun +suit (to say nothing of the big bundle in which +he carried his “duds”), justified a good deal of +staring, of which I experienced a humble share myself.</p> + +<p>Very good and pleasant are the comforts of +civilization, as we felt when we were fairly established +in our new friend’s quarters. Not that the first object +of life is to be comfortable, or that I was moved by +a hair’s-breadth from my aims and ambitions, but I +certainly enjoyed it; and, as Dennis said, “Oh, the +luxury of a fresh-water wash!”—for salt water really +will not clean one, and the only way to get a fresh-water +wash at sea is to save out of one’s limited +allowance. We had done this, to the extent of two-thirds +of a pailful, as we approached Guiana, and had +been glad enough all to soap in the same bucket +(tossing for turns) and rinse off with clean sea-water, +but real “tubs” were a treat indeed!</p> + +<p><!-- Page 197 -->I had had mine, and, clothed in a white suit, +nearly as much too big for me as the old miser’s +funeral gloves, was reposing in a very easy chair, when +Dennis and his friend began to dress for the dance. +The lieutenant was in his bedroom, which opened to +the left out of the sitting-room where I sat, and +Dennis was tubbing in another room similarly placed +on the right. Every door and window was open to +catch what air was stirring, and they shouted to each +other, over my head, so to speak, while the lieutenant’s +body-servant ran backwards and forwards from one to +the other. He was, like so many soldiers, an Irish-man, +and having been with his master when he visited +the O’Moores, he treated Dennis with the utmost +respect, and me with civility for Dennis’ sake. He was +waiting on his master when the lieutenant shouted,</p> + +<p>“Dennis! what’s your length, you lanky fellow?”</p> + +<p>“Six foot two by the last notch on the front door. +I stood in my socks, and the squire measured it with +his tape.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s half-an-inch between us if he’s +right; but that tape’s been measuring the O’Moores +from the days of St. Patrick, and I’ve a notion it +has shrunk with age. I think my clothes will do +for you.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, thank you, Willie! You’re very +good.”</p> + +<p><!-- Page 198 -->In a few minutes O’Brien came out with his arms +full of clothes, and pursued by his master’s voice.</p> + +<p>“O’Brien’s bringing you the things; can he go +in? Be quick and finish off that fresh-water business, +old fellow, and get into them. I promised not to +be late.”</p> + +<p>I tried to read a newspaper, but the cross-fire of +talk forbade anything like attention.</p> + +<p>“Was ye wanting me, sorr?”</p> + +<p>“No, no. Never mind me, O’Brien. Attend to +Mr. O’Moore. Can he manage with those things?”</p> + +<p>“He can, sorr. He looks illigant,” replied O’Brien +from the right-hand chamber. We all laughed, and +Dennis began to sing:</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -4.4em;">“Oh, once we were illigant people,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -0.4em;">Though we now live in cabins of mud;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1em;">And the land that ye see from the steeple,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2em;">Belonged to us all from the flood.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">My father was then king of Connaught ——”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>“And mislaid his crown, I’ll be bound!” shouted +the lieutenant. “Look here, Dennis, you’ll get no +good partners if we’re late, and if you don’t get a +dance with your cousin’s daughter, you’ll miss a treat, +I can tell you. But dancing out here isn’t trifled with +as it is in temperate climates, and cards are made up +early.”</p> + +<p>By and by he shouted again,<!-- Page 199 --></p> + +<p>“O’Brien!”</p> + +<p>“Coming, your honour.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want you. But <i>is</i> Mr. O’Moore +ready?”</p> + +<p>“He is, sorr, barring the waistcoat. <i>Take a fresh +tie, Master Dennis. The master ’ll not be pleased to +take ye out with one like that. Sure it’s haste that’s the +ruin of the white ties all along.</i> Did ye find the young +gentleman a pair of shoes, sorr?”</p> + +<p>“Won’t those I threw in fit you?” asked our +host.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got them. The least bit too large. A +thousand thanks.”</p> + +<p>“Can you dance in them?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll try,” replied Dennis, and judging by the +sound, he did try then and there, singing as he +twirled,</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -9.8em;">“Bad luck to this marching,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -9em;">Pipe-claying and starching,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">How neat one must be to be killed by the French!”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>But O’Brien’s audible delight and the progress of +the song were checked by the lieutenant, who had +dressed himself, and was now in the sitting-room.</p> + +<p>“O’Brien!”</p> + +<p>“Sorr!”</p> + +<p>“If Mr. O’Moore is not ready, I must go without +him.”<!-- Page 200 --></p> + +<p>“He’s ready and waiting, sorr,” replied O’Brien.</p> + +<p>“<i>Have ye got a pocket-handkerchief, Master Dennis, +dear? There’s the flower for your coat. Ye’ll be apt to +give it away, maybe; let me use a small pin. Did the +master not find ye any gloves? Now av the squire saw +ye, its a proud man he’d be!</i> Will I give the young +gentleman one of your hats, sorr?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course. Be quick! So there you are at +last, you young puppy. Bless me! how like the squire +you are.”</p> + +<p>The squire must have been amazingly handsome, +I thought, as I gazed admiringly at my comrade. +Our staring made him shy, and as he blushed and +touched up the stephanotis in his buttonhole, the +engineer changed the subject by saying, “Talking +of the squire, is it true, Dennis, what Jack tells me +about the twenty pounds? Did he really forget to put +it in?”</p> + +<p>“As true as gospel,” said Dennis, and taking up +the tails of his coat he waltzed round the room to the +tune of</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -12.2em;">“They say some disaster</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -12.5em;">Befell the paymaster,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">On my conscience, I think that the money’s not there!”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>I stood out on the verandah to see them off, +Dennis singing and chaffing and chattering to the +last. He waved his hat to me as his friend gathered +<!-- Page 201 -->the reins, a groom sprang up behind, and they were +whirled away. The only part of the business I envied +them was the drive.</p> + +<p>It was a glorious night, despite the oppressive heat +and the almost intolerable biting of mosquitoes and +sandflies. In the wake of the departing trap flew a +solitary beetle, making a noise exactly like a scissor-grinder +at work. Soft and silent moths—some as big +as small birds—went past my face, I fear to the +hanging lamp behind me. Passing footfalls echoed +bluntly from the wooden pavement, and in the far-away +distance the bull-frogs croaked monotonously. +And down below, as I looked upon the trees, I could +see fireflies coming and going, like pulsations of light, +amongst the leaves.</p> + +<p>O’Brien waited on me with the utmost care and +civility; served me an excellent supper with plenty of +ice and cooling drinks, and taught me the use of the +“swizzle stick” for mixing them. I am sure he did +not omit a thing he could think of for my comfort. +He had been gone for some time, and I had been +writing letters, turning over the engineer’s books, and +finally dozing in his chair, when I was startled by +sounds from his bedroom, as if O’Brien were engaged, +first in high argument, and then in deadly struggle +with some intruder. I rushed to his assistance, and +found him alone, stamping vehemently on the floor.<!-- Page 202 --></p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” said I.</p> + +<p>“Matther is it? Murther’s the matther,” and he +gave another vicious stamp, and then took a stride +that nearly cost him his balance, and gave another. +“I beg yor pardon, sorr; but it’s the cockroaches. +The place swarms wid ’em. Av they’d keep peaceably +below, now, but invading the master’s bedroom—that’s +for ye, ye thief!” and he stamped again.</p> + +<p>“The creatures here are a great plague,” said I, +slapping a mosquito upon my forehead.</p> + +<p>“And that as true a word as your honour ever +spoke. They’re murderous no less! Many’s the +time I’m wishing myself back in old Ireland, where +there’s no venomous beasts at all, at all. Arrah! +Would ye, ye skulking ——”</p> + +<p>I left him stamping and streaming with perspiration, +but labouring loyally on in a temperature where +labour was little short of heroism.</p> + +<p>I went back to my chair, and began to think over +my prospects. It is a disadvantage of idleness that +one wearies oneself with thinking, though one cannot +act. I wondered how the prosperous sugar-planter +was receiving Dennis, and whether he would do more +for him than one’s rich relations are apt to do. The +stars began to pale in the dawn without my being any +the wiser for my speculations, and then my friends +came home. The young officer was full of hopes +<!-- Page 203 -->that I had been comfortable, and Dennis of regrets +that I had not gone with them. His hair was tossed, +his cheeks were crimson, and he had lost the flower +from his buttonhole.</p> + +<p>“How did you get on with your cousin?” I asked. +The reply confounded me.</p> + +<p>“Oh, charmingly! Dances like a fairy. I say, +Willie, as a mere matter of natural history, d’ye believe +any other human being ever had such feet?”</p> + +<p>A vague wonder crept into my brain whether the +cousin could possibly have become half a nigger, from +the climate, which really felt capable of anything, +and have developed feet like our friend the pilot; +but I was diverted from this speculation by seeing +that Dennis was clapping his pockets and hunting for +something.</p> + +<p>“What have you lost now?” asked his friend.</p> + +<p>“My pocket-handkerchief. Ah, there it is!” and +he drew it from within his waistcoat, and with it +came his gloves, and a third one, and they fell on the +floor. As he picked the odd one up the lieutenant +laughed.</p> + +<p>“What size does she wear, Dennis—sixes?”</p> + +<p>“Five and three-quarters—long fingers; so she +tells me.” He sighed, and then wandered to the +window, whistling “Robin Adair.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Dennis, you promised me to go straight to +<!-- Page 204 -->bed. Turn in we must, for I have to be on an early +parade.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Willie. Good-night, and a thousand +thanks to you. It’s been a great evening—I never +was so happy in my life. Come along, Jack.”</p> + +<p>And off he went, tossing his head and singing to +the air he had been whistling,</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -1.3em;">“Who in the song so sweet?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.8em;">Eileen aroon!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1em;">Who in the dance so fleet?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.8em;">Eileen aroon!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">Dear were her charms to me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.8em;">Dearer her laughter free,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.4em;">Dearest her constancy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.4em;">Eileen aroon!”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>“She’ll be married to a sugar-planter before you’ve +cut your wisdom teeth!” bawled the engineer from his +bedroom.</p> + +<p>“<i>Will she</i>?” retorted Dennis, and half-laughing, +half-sentimentally, he sang on louder than before,</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -2em;">“Were she no longer true,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.8em;">Eileen aroon!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1em;">What should her lover do?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.8em;">Eileen aroon!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.4em;">Fly with his broken chain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -0.5em;">Far o’er the bounding main,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -3.5em;">Never to love again,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.4em;">Eileen aroon!”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Willie made no reply. He evidently meant to +<!-- Page 205 -->secure what sleep there was to be had, and as Dennis +did not seem in the mood for discussing our prospects +as seamen, I turned into my hammock and pulled it +well round my ears to keep out bats, night-moths, and +the like.</p> + +<p>It was thus that I failed at first to hear when +Dennis began to talk to somebody out of the window. +But when I lifted my head I could hear what he said, +and from the context I gathered that the other speaker +was no less than Alister, who, having taken his sleep +early in the night, was now refreshing himself by a +stroll at dawn. That they were squabbling with +unusual vehemence was too patent, and I was at +once inclined to lay the blame on Dennis, who ought, +I felt, to have been brimming over with generous +sympathy, considering how comfortable we had been, +and poor Alister had not. But I soon discovered +that the matter was no personal one, being neither +more nor less than an indignant discussion as to +whether the air which Dennis was singing was +“Scotch” or “Irish.” As I only caught the Irish +side of the argument, I am not qualified to pronounce +any opinion.</p> + +<p>“Of course facts are facts, no one denies that. +And it’s likely enough your grandmother sang ‘Robin +Adair’ to it, and your great-grandmother too, rest her +soul! But it would take an uncommonly <i>great-<!-- Page 206 -->grandmother</i> +of mine to have sung it when it was new, +for it’s one of the oldest of old Irish airs.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>“Stole it of course! as they did plenty more in +those times—cattle and what not. I’d forgive them +the theft, if they hadn’t spoilt the tune with a +nasty jerk or two that murders the tender grace of it +intirely.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>“Alister, me boy! You’re not going? Ye’re +not cross, are ye? Faith, I’d give my life for ye, +but I can’t give ye Eileen aroon. Come in and have +some swizzle! We’re in the height of luxury here, +and hospitality as well, and you’ll be as welcome +as daylight.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>“Up so late? Up so early you mean! Ah, don’t +put on that air of incorruptible morality. Wait now +till I get in on the one side of my hammock and out +at the other, and I’ll look as early-rising-proud as +yourself. Alister! Alister dear!——”</p> + +<p>Through all this the engineer made no sign, and it +struck me how wise he was, so I pulled the hammock +round me again and fell asleep; not for long, I fancy, +for those intolerable sandflies woke me once more +before Dennis had turned in.</p> + +<p>I looked out and saw him still at the window, his +<!-- Page 207 -->eyes on a waning planet, his cheek resting on the little +glove laid in his right hand, and singing more sweetly +than any nightingale:</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -0.7em;">“Youth must with time decay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.8em;">Eileen aroon!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2em;">Beauty must fade away,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.8em;">Eileen aroon!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -0.9em;">Castles are sacked in war,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -0.5em;">Chieftains are scattered far,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -3.6em;">Truth is a fixèd star,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.4em;">Eileen aroon!”</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 208 -->CHAPTER XV.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -3.6em;">“Which is why I remark,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -0.8em;">And my language is plain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.6em;">That for ways that are dark,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">And for tricks that are vain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">The heathen Chinee is peculiar.”</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9.5em;"><span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Alister</span> did more than pick pink-pale oleanders by +the dyke side that morning. His business with the +captain was soon despatched, and in the course of +it he “fore-gathered,” as he called it, with the man +of business who had spoken to us on the night of +the great fire, and whose own warehouse was in +ruins. He proved to be a Scotchman by birth, and +a man of energy (not a common quality in the +tropics), and he was already busy about retrieving +his fortune. The hasty repair of part of the building, +in which to secure some salvage, and other +similar matters, was his first object; and he complained +bitterly of the difficulty of inducing any of +the coloured gentlemen to do a “fair day’s work +<!-- Page 209 -->for a fair day’s wage,” except when immediate need +pressed them. They would then work, he said, +but they would not go on working till the job was +done, only till they had earned enough wages to +take another idle “spell” upon.</p> + +<p>Several Chinamen were already busy among the +ruins of the burnt houses, as we saw, and it was +Chinese labour that Alister’s friend had resolved +to employ; but he seemed to think that, though +industrious, those smiling, smooth-faced individuals, +who looked as if they had come to life off one of +my mother’s old tea-cups, were not to be trusted +alone among the salvage.</p> + +<p>“Every thief among ’em ’s as good as a conjurer,” +he declared, “and can conceal just anything +up his sleeve.”</p> + +<p>Thus it came about that when Dennis and I +went down to the stelling to meet Alister, as we +had agreed, and delivered the messages of hospitality +with which the young engineer and Dennis’s +cousin had charged us, we found that he had made +an engagement to help the burnt-out store-owner +for such time as we should be out of seamen’s work, +on terms which were to include his board and +lodging.</p> + +<p>“Alister, dear! I admire ye with all me heart,” +said Dennis impetuously. “I never saw such an +<!-- Page 210 -->industrious, persevering fellow. If all Scotch lads +take the tide of life at the flood as you do, small +blame to ye for making your fortunes; and well ye +deserve it.”</p> + +<p>“There’s not a doubt about it,” replied Alister +complacently. “And I’ll tell ye more. Find me +arty grand work, if it’s at the other end of the +airth, whether it’s digging a dyke in the desert, or +bigging a mountain up to the moon, and I’ll find ye +an Aberdeenshire man not far from the head of it.”</p> + +<p>Dennis’s face seemed to twitch with a dozen +quick thoughts and smiles, as Alister turned away +to meet his new employer, who had just appeared +on the stelling.</p> + +<p>“They have wonderful qualities,” he said gently. +“I envy them, I can tell ye, Jack. What’s an idle +lout like me good for? Will I ever be able to +make a home for myself, or for any one else? +<i>They do!</i>” He spoke earnestly, and then suddenly +relapsing into an imitation of Alister’s accent, which +was his latest joke, he added with twinkling eyes, +“and they save a <i>wee</i> in wages to their <i>ain</i> +trumpeters—<i>whiles!</i>”</p> + +<p>And having drawled out the word “whiles” to +the uttermost possible length, he suddenly began +to snap his fingers and dance an Irish jig upon the +wooden planks of the stelling. This performance +<!-- Page 211 -->completely demoralized the Chinamen who caught +sight of it. “Eyah!” they cried, they stopped +work, they chuckled, they yelled; they doubled +themselves up, some of their pig-tails came down, +and one and all they laughed so frankly and +immoderately, it was hard to believe that anything +like deception could be amongst the faults of these +almond-eyed children of the Flowery-Land.</p> + +<p>Mr. Macdonald (the store-owner) seemed, however, +to think that they required pretty close +watching, and I do not think he would have been +willing to let Alister go back with us to luncheon +at Willie’s, but for his appreciation of social rank. +It was obvious that it did Alister no harm that he +had a friend in an officer of her Majesty’s Service, +and a comrade in the nephew of a sugar-planter of +the uppermost level of Demerara society.</p> + +<p>We three held a fresh council as we sat with the +young engineer. He and Alister got on admirably, +and he threw himself into our affairs with wonderful +kindness. One point he disposed of at once, and +that was <i>my</i> fate! There could be no question, he +said, that my duty was to get back to Halifax, +“report myself” to Uncle Henry’s agent there, and +then go home.</p> + +<p>“You’re ruthlessly dismembering the Shamrock, +Willie,” Dennis objected.<!-- Page 212 --></p> + +<p>“I don’t see that. <i>You’re</i> not to stay here, for +instance.”</p> + +<p>“You’re mighty positive,” said Dennis, blushing.</p> + +<p>“Of course I am. I wouldn’t encourage you to +waste sentiment anyhow; and the West Indies is +no latitude for boys, to go on with. And you +know as well as I do, that it’s rather more than +time the squire started you in life. You must go +home, Dennis!”</p> + +<p>“If I do, I go with Jack. And what about +Alister?”</p> + +<p>The young officer tugged his moustaches right +and left. Then he said, “If I were exactly in +your place, Auchterlay——”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir?” said Alister, for he had hesitated.</p> + +<p>—“I should—enlist in the Royal Engineers.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing like gunpowder,” whispered Dennis to +me. I kicked him in return.</p> + +<p>The pros and cons of the matter were not +lengthy. If Alister enlisted in any regiment, the +two advantages of good behaviour and good education +would tell towards his advancement more +rapidly and more certainly than perhaps in any +other line of life. If he enlisted into a scientific +corps, the chance of being almost immediately +employed as a clerk was good, very much of the +work would be interesting to an educated and +<!-- Page 213 -->practical man; the “marching, pipe-claying and +starching,” of which Dennis sang, was a secondary +part of “R.E.” duties at any time, and there +were special opportunities of employment in foreign +countries for superior men. Alister was not at all +likely to remain long a private, and it was quite +“on the cards” that he might get a commission +while he was still young. So much for “peace +time.” But if—in the event of—and supposing +(here the young engineer made a rapid diversion +into the politics of the day) there was a chance of +“active service”—the Royal Engineers not only +offered far more than drill and barrack duties in +time of peace, but no branch of the army gave +nobler opportunities for distinguished service in +time of war. At this point he spoke with such +obvious relish, that I saw Dennis was ready to +take the Queen’s Shilling on the spot. Alister’s +eyes gave a flash or two, but on the whole he +“kept a calm sough,” and put the other side of the +question.</p> + +<p>He said a good deal, but the matter really lay +in small compass. The profession of arms is not +highly paid. It was true that the pay was poor +enough as a seaman, and the life far harder, but +then he was only bound for each voyage. At +other times he was his own master, and having<!-- Page 214 --> +“gained an insight into” trading from his late +captain, he saw indefinite possibilities before him. +Alister seemed to have great faith in openings, +opportunities, chances, &c., and he said frankly +that he looked upon his acquired seamanship +simply as a means of paying his passage to any part +of the habitable globe where fortunes could be made.</p> + +<p>“Then why not stick together?” cried Dennis. +“Make your way up to Halifax with us, Alister +dear. Maybe you’ll find your cousin at home this +time, and if not, at the worst, there’s the captain +of our old ship promised ye employment. Who +knows but we’ll all go home in her together? Ah, +let’s keep the Shamrock whole if we can.”</p> + +<p>“But you see, Dennis,” said the lieutenant, +“Alister would regard a voyage to England as a +step backward, as far as his objects are concerned.”</p> + +<p>Dennis always maintained that you could never +contrive to agree with Alister so closely that he +would not find room to differ from you.</p> + +<p>So he nudged me again (and I kicked him +once more), when Alister began to explain that he +wouldn’t just say <i>that</i>, for that during the two or +three days when he was idle at Liverpool he had +been into a free library to look at the papers, and +had had a few words of converse with a decent +kind of an old body, who was a care-taker in a +<!-- Page 215 -->museum where they bought birds and beasts and +the like from seafaring men that got them in +foreign parts. So that it had occurred to him +that if he could pick up a few natural curiosities +in the tropics, he might do worse, supposing his +cousin be still absent from Halifax, than keep +himself from idleness, by taking service in our old +ship, with the chance of doing a little trading at +the Liverpool Museum.</p> + +<p>“I wish I hadn’t broken that gorgeous lump of +coral Alfonso gave me,” said Dennis. “But it’s +as brittle as egg-shell, though I rather fancy the +half of it would astonish most museums. You’re a +wonderful boy, Alister! Ah, we’ll all live to see the +day when you’re a millionaire, laying the foundation-stone +of some of these big things the Aberdeen +men build, and speechifying away to the rising +generation of how ye began life with nothing but a +stuffed Demerary parrot in your pocket. Willie, +can’t ye lend me some kind of a gun, that I may +get him a few of these highly-painted fowl of the +air? If I had but old Barney at my elbow now—<span class="smcap">God</span> +rest his soul!—we’d give a good account of +ourselves among the cockatoos. Many’s the lot +of sea-birds we’ve brought home in the hooker to +stuff the family pillows. But I’m no hand at +preparing a bird for stuffing.”<!-- Page 216 --></p> + +<p>“I’ll cure them,” said I; “the school-master +taught me.”</p> + +<p>“Then we’re complete entirely, and Alister ‘ll +die Provost of Aberdeen. Haven’t I got the whole +plan in my head? (And it’s the first of the +O’Moores that ever developed a genius for business!) +Swap crimson macaws with green breasts +in Liverpool for cheap fizzing drinks; trade them +in the thirsty tropics for palm-oil; steer for the +north pole, and retail that to the oleaginous +Esquimaux for furs; sell them in Paris in the +autumn for what’s left of the summer fashions, +and bring these back to the ladies of Demerary; +buy——”</p> + +<p>“Dennis! stop that chattering,” cried our host; +“there’s some one at the door.”</p> + +<p>We listened. There was a disturbance below +stairs, and the young officer opened the door and +shouted for his servant, on which O’Brien came up +three at a time.</p> + +<p>“What is it, O’Brien?”</p> + +<p>“A Chinese, your honour. I asked him his +business, and not a word but gibberish will he let out +of him. But he’s brought no papers nor parcels at +all, and sorra peep will I let him have of your honour’s +room. The haythen thief!”</p> + +<p>But even as O’Brien spoke, a Chinaman, in a +<!-- Page 217 -->China blue dress, passed between him and the door-post, +and stood in the room.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” asked the engineer peremptorily.</p> + +<p>“Ah-Fo,” was the reply, and the Chinaman bowed +low.</p> + +<p>“You can understand English, if you can’t speak +it, eh?”</p> + +<p>The Chinaman smiled. His eyes rolled round +the room till he caught sight of Alister, then suddenly +producing three letters, fanwise, as if he were holding +a hand at whist, he jerked up the centre one, like a +“forced” card in a trick, and said softly, “For you”—and +still looking round with the others in his hand, +he added, “For two; allee same as you,” and as +Alister distributed them to Dennis and me, his wooden +face took a few wrinkles of contempt, and he added, +“One nigger bringee. Mister Macdonald, he send +me.”</p> + +<p>After this explanation he stood quite still. Even +his face was unmoved, but his eyes went round and +to every corner of the room. I was so absorbed in +watching him that Dennis was reading his letter aloud +before I had opened mine. But they were all alike, +with the exception of our names. They were on +pink paper, and highly scented. This was Dennis +O’Moore’s:</p> + +<p>“<i>Hymeneal</i>.—Mr. Alfonso St. Vincent and Miss +<!-- Page 218 -->Georgiana Juba’s compliments are respectfully offered, +and will be happy of Mr. Dennis O’Moore’s company +on the occasion of the celebration of their +nuptials. Luncheon at twelve on the auspicious day, +Saturday ——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, botheration! It’s six weeks hence,” said +Dennis. “Will we be here, I wonder?”</p> + +<p>“We’ll go if we are.” “Poor old Alfonso!” +“Well done, Alfonso!” Such were our sentiments, +and we expressed them in three polite notes, which +the Chinaman instantaneously absorbed into some +part of his person, and having put the hand with +which he took them to his head and bowed lowly as +before, he went away. And O’Brien, giving one +vicious dust with his coat-sleeve of the door-post, +which Ah-Fo had contaminated by a passing touch, +followed the “heathen thief” to see him safe off the +premises.</p> + +<p>“That’s a strange race, now ——” began Alister, +but I ran to the window, for Dennis was on the +balcony watching for the Chinaman, and remembering +the scene on the stelling, I anticipated fun.</p> + +<p>“Hi, there! Fe-fo-fum, or whatever it is that +they call ye!”</p> + +<p>Ah-Fo looked up with a smile of delighted recognition, +which, as Dennis gave a few preliminary +stamps, and began to whistle and shuffle, expanded +<!-- Page 219 -->into such hearty laughter, that he was obliged to sit +down to it by the roadside.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Dennis,” said our host; “we shall +have a crowd collecting if you go on with this tomfoolery. +Send him off.”</p> + +<p>“All right, old fellow. Beg your pardon. Good-bye, +Te-to-tum.”</p> + +<p>It was not a respectful farewell, but there is a +freemasonry of friendliness apart from words. Dennis +had a kindly heart toward his fellow-creatures everywhere, +and I never knew his fellow-creatures fail to +find it out.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye,” said Ah-Fo, lingeringly.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye again. I say, old mandarin,” added +the incorrigible Dennis, leaning confidentially over +the balcony, “got on pretty well below there? Or +did O’Brien keep the tail of his eye too tight on ye? +Did ye manage to coax a greatcoat of a hall-table or +any other trifle of the kind up those sleeves of yours?”</p> + +<p>This time Ah-Fo looked genuinely bewildered, +but he gazed at Dennis as if he would have given +anything to understand him.</p> + +<p>“Uppee sleevee—you know?” said Dennis, illustrating +his meaning by signs. (“Chinese is a mighty +easy language, Willie, I find, when you’re used to it.”)</p> + +<p>A grin of intelligence spread from ear to ear on +Ah-Fo’s countenance.<!-- Page 220 --></p> + +<p>“Eyah!” said he, and with one jerk he produced +our three letters, fan-fashion, in his right hand, and +then they vanished as quickly, and he clapped his +empty palms and cried, “Ha, ha! Ha, ha!”</p> + +<p>“It’s clever, there’s no denying,” said Alister, +“but it’s an uncanny kind of cleverness.”</p> + +<p>Something uncannier was to come. Ah-Fo had +stood irresolute for a minute or two, then he appeared +to make up his mind, and coming close under the +balcony he smiled at Dennis and said, “You lookee +here.” Then feeling rapidly in the inner part of his +dress he brought out a common needle, which he +held up to us, then pricked his finger to show that it +was sharp, and held it up again, crying, “You see?”</p> + +<p>“I see,” said Dennis. “Needle. Allee same as +pin, barring that a pin’s got a head with no eye in it, +and a needle’s got an eye with no head to it.”</p> + +<p>“You no talkee, you lookee,” pleaded Ah-Fo.</p> + +<p>“One for you, Dennis,” laughed the engineer. +We looked, and Ah-Fo put the needle into his mouth +and swallowed it. He gave himself a pat or two and +made some grimaces to show that it felt rather prickly +going down, and then he produced a second needle, +and tested and then swallowed that. In this way he +seemed to swallow twelve needles, nor, with the closest +watching, could we detect that they went anywhere +but into his mouth.<!-- Page 221 --></p> + +<p>“Will he make it a baker’s dozen, I wonder?” +gasped Dennis.</p> + +<p>But this time Ah-Fo produced a small ball of +thread, and it followed the needles, after which he +doubled himself up in uneasy contortions, which sent +us into fits of laughter. Then he put his fingers into +his mouth—we watched closely—and slowly, yard +after yard, he drew forth the unwound thread, and all +the twelve needles were upon it. And whilst we +were clapping and cheering him, both needles and +thread disappeared as before.</p> + +<p>Ah-Fo was evidently pleased by our approval, and +by the shower of coins with which our host rewarded +his performance, but when he had disposed of them +in his own mysterious fashion, some source of discontent +seemed yet to remain. He looked sadly at +Dennis and said, “Ah-Fo like to do so, allee same as +you.” And then began gravely to shuffle his feet +about, in vain efforts, as became evident, to dance an +Irish jig. We tried to stifle our laughter, but he was +mournfully conscious of his own failure, and, when +Dennis whistled the tune, seemed to abandon the task +in despair, and console himself by an effort to recall +the original performance. After standing for a few +seconds with his eyes shut and his head thrown back, +so that his pig-tail nearly touched the ground, the +scene appeared to return to his memory. “Eyah!” +<!-- Page 222 -->he chuckled, and turned to go, laughing as he +went.</p> + +<p>“Don’t forget the letters. Uppee sleevee, old +Tea-tray!” roared Dennis.</p> + +<p>Ah-Fo flirted them out once more. “Ha! ha! +ha!” laughed he, and went finally away.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 223 -->CHAPTER XVI.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +“Das Haar trennt.”—<i>German Proverb</i>.<br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> three were not able to be present at Alfonso’s +wedding, for the very good reason that we were no +longer in British Guiana. But the day we sailed for +Halifax, Alfonso and his Georgiana came down to see +us on the stelling. “Georgiana” was as black as a +coal, but Alfonso had not boasted without reason of +the cut of her clothes. She had an upright pretty +figure, and her dress fitted it to perfection. It was a +white dress, and she had a very gorgeous parasol, +deeply fringed, and she wore a kerchief of many +colours round her shoulders, and an equally bright +silk one cleverly twisted into a little cap on her woolly +head. Her costume was, in short, very gay indeed.</p> + +<p>“Out of all the bounds of nature and feminine +modesty,” said Alister.</p> + +<p>“Of your grandmother’s nature and modesty, maybe,” +retorted Dennis. “But she’s no gayer than the +birds of the neighbourhood, anyway, and she’s as neat, +<!-- Page 224 -->which is more than ye can say for many a young lady +that’s not so black in the face.”</p> + +<p>In short, Dennis approved of Alfonso’s bride, and +I think the lady was conscious of it. She had a soft +voice, and very gentle manners, and to Dennis she +chatted away so briskly that I wondered what she +could have found to talk about, till I discovered from +what Dennis said to Alister afterwards, that the +subject of her conversation was Alfonso’s professional +prospects.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Alister dear,” said Dennis; “don’t +be bothering yourself whether she employs your +aunt’s dressmaker or no, but when you’re about half-way +up that ladder of success that I’ll never be +climbing (or I’d do it myself), say a good word for +Alfonso to some of these Scotch captains with big +ships, that want a steward and stewardess. That’s +what she’s got her eye on for Alfonso, and Alfonso +has been a good friend to us.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll mind,” said Alister. And he did. For (to +use his own expression) our Scotch comrade was +“aye better than his word.”</p> + +<p>Dennis O’Moore’s cousin behaved very kindly to +us. He was not only willing to find Dennis the +money which the squire had failed to send, but he +would have advanced my passage-money to Halifax. +I declined the offer for two reasons. In the first +<!-- Page 225 -->place, Uncle Henry had only spoken of paying my +passage from Halifax to England, and I did not feel +that I was entitled to spend any money that I could +avoid spending; and, secondly, as Alister had to go +north before the mast, I chose to stick by my comrade, +and rough it with him. This decided Dennis. If +Alister and I were going as seamen, he would not +“sneak home as a passenger.”</p> + +<p>The elderly cousin did not quite approve of this, +but the engineer officer warmly supported Dennis, and +he was also upheld in a quarter where praise was still +dearer to him, as I knew, for he took me into his +confidence, when his feelings became more than he +could comfortably keep to himself.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps she won’t like your being a common +sailor, Dennis,” I had said, “and you know Alister +and I shall quite understand about it. We know well +enough what a true mate you’ve been to us, and +Alister was talking to me about it last night. He said +he didn’t like to say anything to you, as he wouldn’t +take the liberty of alluding to the young lady, but he’s +quite sure she won’t like it, and I think so too.”</p> + +<p>I said more than I might otherwise have done, +because I was very much impressed by Alister’s unusual +vehemence on the subject. He seldom indeed +said a word that was less than a boast of Scotland in +general, and Aberdeenshire in particular, but on this +<!-- Page 226 -->occasion it had burst forth that though he had been +little “in society” in his native country, he had “seen +enough to know that a man would easier live down a +breach of a’ the ten commandments than of any three +of its customs.” And when I remembered for my own +part, how fatal in my own neighbourhood were any +proceedings of an unusual nature, and how all his +innocence, and his ten years of martyrdom, had not +sufficed with many of Mr. Wood’s neighbours to condone +the “fact” that he had been a convict, I agreed +with Alister that Dennis ought not to risk the possible +ill effects of what, as he said, had a ne’er-do-weel, +out-at-elbows, or, at last and least, an uncommon look +about it; and that having resumed his proper social +position, our Irish comrade would be wise to keep it +in the eyes he cared most to please.</p> + +<p>“Alister has a fine heart,” said Dennis, “but you +may tell him I told her,” and he paused.</p> + +<p>“What did she say?” I asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>“She said,” answered Dennis slowly, “that she’d +small belief that a girl could tell if a man were true +or no by what he seemed as a lover, but there was +something to be done in the way of judging of his +heart by seeing if he was kind with his kith and +faithful to his friends.”</p> + +<p>It took me two or three revolutions of my brain +to perceive how this answer bore upon the question, +<!-- Page 227 -->and when I repeated it to Alister, his comment was +almost as enigmatical.</p> + +<p>“A man,” he said sententiously, “that has been +blessed with a guid mother, and that gives the love of +his heart to a guid woman, may aye gang through the +ills o’ this life like the children of Israel through the +Red Sea, with a wall on’s right hand and a wall on’s +left.”</p> + +<p>But it was plain to be seen that the young lady +approved of Dennis O’Moore’s resolve, when she +made us three scarlet night-caps for deck-wear, with +a tiny shamrock embroidered on the front of +each.</p> + +<p>Indeed, as to clothes and comforts of all sorts, we +began our homeward voyage in a greatly renovated +condition, thanks to our friends. The many kindnesses +of the engineer officer were only matched by +his brusque annoyance if we “made a fuss about +nothing,” and between these, and what the sugar-planter +thought due to his relative, and what the +sugar-planter’s daughter did for the sake of Dennis, +the only difficulty was to get our kits stowed within +reasonable seamen’s limits. The sugar-planter’s +influence was of course invaluable to us in the choice +of a ship, and we were very fortunate. The evening +we went on board I accompanied Dennis to his +cousin’s house to bid good-bye, and when we left, +<!-- Page 228 -->Miss Eileen came with us through the garden to let +us out by a short cut and a wicket-gate. She looked +prettier even than usual, in some sort of pale greenish-grey +muslin, with knots of pink ribbon about it, and I +felt very much for Dennis’s deplorable condition, and +did my best in the way of friendship by going well +ahead among the oleanders and evergreens, with a +bundle which contained the final gifts of our friends. +Indeed I waited at the wicket-gate not only till I was +thoroughly tired of waiting, but till I knew we dare +wait no longer, and then I went back to look for +Dennis.</p> + +<p>About twenty yards back I saw him, as I thought, +mixed up in some way with an oleander-bush in pink +blossom, but, coming nearer, I found that it was Eileen’s +grey-green dress with the pink bows, which, like a +slackened sail, was flapping against him in the evening +breeze, as he knelt in front of her.</p> + +<p>“Dennis,” said I, not too loud; not loud enough +in fact, for they did not hear me; and all that Dennis +said was, “Take plenty, Darlin’!”</p> + +<p>He was kneeling up, and holding back some of +the muslin and ribbons with one hand, whilst with the +other he held out a forelock of his black curls, and +she cut it off with the scissors out of the sailor’s housewife +which she had made for him. I turned my back +and called louder.<!-- Page 229 --></p> + +<p>“I know, Jack. I’m coming this instant,” said +Dennis.</p> + +<p>The night was noisy with the croaking of frogs, +the whirring and whizzing of insects, the cheeping of +bats, and the distant cries of birds, but Dennis and +Eileen were silent. Then she called out, “Good-bye, +Jack, <span class="smcap">God</span> bless you.”</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, Miss Eileen, and <span class="smcap">God</span> bless you,” said +I, feeling nearly as miserable as if I were in love +myself. And then we ran all the rest of the way to +the stelling.</p> + +<p>Alister was already on board, and the young officer +was there to bid us <span class="smcap">God</span> speed, and Dennis was +cheerful almost to noisiness.</p> + +<p>But when the shores of British Guiana had become +a muddy-looking horizon line, I found him, with his +cropped forehead pressed to the open housewife, +shedding bitter tears among the new needles and +buttons.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 230 -->CHAPTER XVII.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +“Zur tiefen Ruh, wie er sich auch gefunden.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">* * * * * *</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Sein Geist ist’s, der mich ruft.”</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;"><i>Wallenstein’s Tod</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Not</span> the least troublesome part of our enlarged kit +was the collection of gay-plumaged birds. Their +preservation was by no means complete, and I continued +it at sea. But between climate and creatures, +the destructiveness of the tropics is distracting to the +collector, and one or two of my finest specimens fell +into heaps of mangled feathers, dust, and hideous +larvæ under my eyes. It was Dennis O’Moore’s collection. +He and his engineer friend were both good +shots, and they had made an expedition on purpose +to get these birds for Alister. There were some most +splendid specimens, and the grandest of all, to my +thinking, was a Roseate Spoonbill, a wading, fish-catching +bird of all shades of rose, from pale pink to +crimson. Even his long horny legs were red. But +he was not a pleasant subject for my part of the work. +<!-- Page 231 -->He smelt like the <i>Water-Lily</i> at her worst, before we +got rid of the fish cargo.</p> + +<p>Knowing that he had got them for Alister, I was +rather surprised one day when Dennis began picking +out some of the rarest birds and put them aside. It +was so unlike him to keep things for himself. But as +he turned over the specimens, he began to ask me +about Cripple Charlie, whose letter he had read. +Meanwhile he kept selecting specimens, and then, +returning them to the main body again, “Ah, we +mustn’t be robbing Alister, or he’ll never die Provost +of Aberdeen.” In the end he had gathered a very +choice and gorgeous little lot, and then I discovered +their destination. “We’ll get them set up when we +get home,” he said; “I hope Charlie ’ll like ’em. +They’ll put the old puffin’s nose out of joint, anyway, +for as big as it is!”</p> + +<p>Our ship was a steamship, a well-found vessel, and +we made a good passage. The first mate was an +educated man, and fond of science. He kept a +meteorological log, and the pleasantest work we ever +did was in helping him to take observations. We +became very much bitten with the subject, and I +bought three pickle-bottles from the cook, and filled +them with gulf-weed and other curiosities for Charlie, +and stowed these away with the birds.</p> + +<p>Dennis found another letter from his father await<!-- Page 232 -->ing +him at the Halifax post-office. The squire had +discovered his blunder, and sent the money, and the +way in which Dennis immediately began to plan purchases +of all sorts, from a birch-bark canoe to a +bearskin rug, gave me a clue to the fortunes of the +O’Moores. I do not think he would have had enough +left to pay his passage if we had been delayed for +long. But our old ship was expected any hour, and +when she came in we made our way to her at once, +and the upshot of it all was, that Dennis and I shipped +in her for the return voyage as passengers, and Alister +as a seaman.</p> + +<p>Nothing can make the North Atlantic a pleasant +sea. Of the beauty and variety of warmer waters we +had nothing, but we had the excitement of some rough +weather, and a good deal of sociability and singing +when it was fair, and we were very glad to be with +our old mates again, and yet more glad that every +knot on our course was a step nearer home. Dennis +and I were not idle because we were independent, and +we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. As to Alister, there +was no difficulty in seeing how well he stood with the +red-bearded captain, and how good a friend his own +energy and perseverance (with perhaps some touch of +clannishness to boot) had gained for him. Dennis +and I always shared his watches, and they were +generally devoted to the discussing and re-discussing +<!-- Page 233 -->of our prospects, interspersed with fragmentary French +lessons.</p> + +<p>From the day that Alister had heard Dennis chatter +to the squaw, through all our ups and downs, at sea +and ashore, he had never flagged in his persistent +profiting by Dennis’s offer to teach him to speak +French. It was not, perhaps, a very scholarly method +which they pursued, but we had no time for study, so +Dennis started Alister every day with a new word or +sentence, and Alister hammered this into his head as +he went about his work, and recapitulated what he +had learned before. By the time we were on our +homeward voyage, the sentences had become very +complex, and it seemed probable that Alister’s ambition +to take part in a “two-handed crack” in French with +his teacher, before the shamrock fell to pieces, would +be realized.</p> + +<p>“What he has learnt is wonderful, I can tell ye,” +said Dennis to me, “but his accent’s horrid! And +we’d get on faster than we do if he didn’t argue every +step we go, though he doesn’t know a word that I’ve +not taught him.”</p> + +<p>But far funnier than Alister’s corrections of his +teacher, was a curious jealousy which the boatswain +had of the Scotch lad’s new accomplishment. We +could not quite make out the grounds of it, except +that the boatswain himself had learned one or two +<!-- Page 234 -->words of what he called <i>parly voo</i> when he was in +service at the boys’ school, and he was jealously careful +of the importance which his shreds and scraps of +education gave him in the eyes of the ordinary uneducated +seaman. With Dennis and me he was +uniformly friendly, and he was a most entertaining +companion.</p> + +<p>Owing to head winds, our passage was longer than +the average. A strange thing happened towards the +end of it. We had turned in for sleep one night, when +I woke to the consciousness that Dennis had got out +of his berth, and was climbing past mine, but I was so +sleepy that I did not speak, and was only sure that it +was not a dream, when Alister and I went on deck +for the next watch, and found Dennis walking up and +down in the morning mist.</p> + +<p>“Have you had no sleep?” I asked, for his face +looked haggard.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t. For dreaming,” he said, awkwardly.</p> + +<p>I laughed at him.</p> + +<p>“What have you been dreaming about?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t laugh, Jack. I dreamt of Barney.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s natural enough, Dennis. This end +of the voyage must recall the poor fellow.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t mind if it was a kindly dream. But +I dreamed he’d an old woman’s bonnet on and a +handkerchief tied over it. It haunts me.”<!-- Page 235 --></p> + +<p>“Go back to bed,” I advised. “Perhaps you’ll +dream of him again looking like himself, and that will +put this out of your head.”</p> + +<p>Dennis took my advice, and I stood Alister’s watch +with him, and by and by Dennis appeared on deck +again looking more at ease.</p> + +<p>“Did you dream of him again?” I asked. He +nodded.</p> + +<p>“I did—just his own dear self. But he was sitting +alone on the edge of some wharf gazing down into +the water, and not a look could I get out of him till I +woke.”</p> + +<p>The following morning Dennis was still sound +asleep when I rose and went on deck. The coast of +Ireland was just coming into sight through the haze +when he joined me, but before pointing it out to him, +I felt curious to know whether he had dreamed a third +time of old Barney.</p> + +<p>“Not I,” said he; “all I dreamed of was a big +rock standing up out of the sea, and two children +sitting on it had hold of each other’s hands.”</p> + +<p>“Children you know?”</p> + +<p>“Oh dear, no! Just a little barefoot brother and +sister.”</p> + +<p>He seemed to wish to drop the subject, and at +this moment a gleam of sunshine lit up the distant +coast-line with such ethereal tints, that I did not +<!-- Page 236 -->wonder to see him spring upon the bulwarks and, +catching a ratlin with one hand, wave his cap above +his head with the other, crying, “<span class="smcap">God</span> bless the +Emerald Isle!”</p> + +<p>We reached Liverpool about four o’clock in the +afternoon, and as we drew up alongside of the old +wharf, my first thought was to look for Biddy Macartney. +Alister had to remain on board for a time, +but Dennis came willingly with me in search of the +old woman and her coffee-barrow. At last we betook +ourselves to the dock-gatekeeper, to make inquiries, +and from him we heard a sad story. The old woman +had “failed a deal of late,” he said. He “<i>had</i> heard +she wasn’t right in her mind, but whether they’d +shifted her to a ’sylum or not, he couldn’t say.” If she +was at home, she was at an address which he gave us.</p> + +<p>“Will you go, Dennis? I must. At once.”</p> + +<p>“Of course.”</p> + +<p>Biddy was at home, and never whilst I live can I +forget the “home.” Four blocks of high houses enclosed +a small court into which there was one entrance, +an archway through one of the buildings. All the +houses opened into the court. There were no back-doors, +and no back premises whatever. All the dirt +and (as to washing) all the cleanliness of a crowded +community living in rooms in flats, the quarrelling and +the love-making, the old people’s resting, and the +<!-- Page 237 -->children’s playing;—from emptying a slop-pail to getting +a breath of evening air—this court was all there +was for it. I have since been told that if we had been +dressed like gentlemen, we should not have been safe +in it, but I do not think we should have met with any +worse welcome if we had come on the same errand—“to +see old Biddy Macartney.”</p> + +<p>Roughly enough, it is true, we were directed to +one of the houses, the almost intolerable stench of +which increased as we went up the stairs. By the +help of one inmate and another, we made our way to +Biddy’s door, and then we found it locked.</p> + +<p>“The missis ’ll be out,” said a deformed girl who +was pulling herself along by the balustrades. She was +decent-looking and spoke civilly, so I ventured to ask, +“Do you mean that old Biddy is out?”</p> + +<p>“Nay, not Biddy. The woman that sees to her. +When she’s got to go out she locks t’ old lass up to be +safe,” and volunteering no further help, the girl rested +for a minute against the wall, with her hand to her +side, and then dragged herself into one of the rooms, +and shut the door in our faces.</p> + +<p>The court without and the houses within already +resounded so to the squalling of children, that I paid +no attention to the fact that more of this particular +noise was coming up the stairs; but in another moment +a woman, shaking a screaming baby in her arms, +<!-- Page 238 -->and dragging two crying children at her skirts, clenched +her disengaged fist (it had a key in it) close to our +faces and said, “And which of you vagabones is t’ old +lass’s son?”</p> + +<p>“Neither of us,” said I, “but we want to see her, +if we may. Are you the woman who takes care of her?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve plenty to do minding my own, I can tell +ye,” she grumbled, “but I couldn’t abear to see +t’ ould lass taken to a ’sylum. They’re queer places +some on ’em, as I know. And as to t’ House! there’s +a many folks says, ‘Well, if t’ guardians won’t give her +no relief, let her go in.’ But she got hold on me one +day, and she says, ‘Sally, darling’ (that’s t’ ould lass’s +way, is calling ye Darling. It sounds soft, but she is +but an old Irish woman, as one may say), ‘if ever,’ she +says, ‘you hear tell of their coming to fetch me, <span class="smcap">God</span> +bless ye,’ she says, ‘just give me a look out of your +eye, and I’m gone. I’ll be no more trouble to any +one,’ she says, ‘and maybe I’ll make it worth your +while too.’”</p> + +<p>At this point in her narrative the woman looked +mysterious, nodded her head, craned over the banisters +to see that no one was near, slapped the children and +shook up the baby as a sort of mechanical protest +against the noise they were making (as to effects they +only howled the louder), and drawing nearer to us, +spoke in lower tones:<!-- Page 239 --></p> + +<p>“T’ old lass has money, it’s my belief, though she +gives me nowt for her lodging, and she spends nowt +on herself. She’s many a time fair clemmed, I’ll +assure ye, till I can’t abear to see it, and I give her +the bit and sup I might have had myself, for I’m not +going to rob t’ children neither for her nor nobody. +Ye see it’s her son that’s preying on her mind. He +wrote her a letter awhile ago, saying times was bad +out yonder, and he was fair heart-broke to be so far +away from her, and she’s been queer ever since. She’s +wanted for everything herself, slaving and saving to +get enough to fetch him home. Where she hides it I +know no more nor you, but she wears a sight of old +rags, one atop of another, and pockets in all of ‘em for +aught I know—hold your din, ye unrewly children!—there’s +folks coming. I’ll let ye in. I lock t’ old lass +up when I go out, for she might be wandering, and +there’s them hereabouts that would reckon nought of +putting her out of t’ way and taking what she’s got, if +they heard tell on’t.”</p> + +<p>At last the door was unlocked, and we went in. +And sitting on a low box, dressed as before, even to +the old coat and the spotted kerchief over her bonnet, +sat Biddy Macartney.</p> + +<p>When she lifted her face, I saw that it was much +wasted, and that her fine eyes had got a restless uneasy +look in them. Suddenly this ceased, and they +<!-- Page 240 -->lit up with the old intelligence. For half an instant I +thought it was at the sight of me, but she did not even +see me. It was on Dennis O’Moore that her eyes +were bent, and they never moved as she struggled to +her feet, and gazed anxiously at his face, his cap, and +his seafaring clothes, whilst, for his part, Dennis gazed +almost as wildly at her. At last she spoke:</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">God</span> save ye, squire! Has the old counthry +come to this? Is the O’Moore an alien, and all?”</p> + +<p>“No, no. I’m the squire’s son,” said Dennis. +“But tell me quick, woman, what are you to Barney +Barton?”</p> + +<p>“Barney is it? Sure he was brother to me, as +who knows better than your honour?”</p> + +<p>“Did <i>you</i> live with us, too?”</p> + +<p>“I did, acushla. In the heighth of ease and comfort, +and done nothin’ for it. Wasn’t I the big fool +to be marryin’ so early, not knowin’ when I was well +off!”</p> + +<p>“I know. Barney has told me. A Cork man, +your husband, wasn’t he? A lazy, drunken, ill-natured +rascal of a fellow.”</p> + +<p>“That’s him, your honour!”</p> + +<p>“Well, you’re quit of him long since. And, as +your son’s in New York, and all I have left of Barney +is you ——”</p> + +<p>“She doesn’t hear you, Dennis.”</p> + +<p><!-- Page 241 -->I interrupted him, because in his impetuosity he +had not noticed that the wandering look had come +back over the old woman’s face, and that she sat +down on the box, and fumbled among her pockets +for Micky’s letter, and then crouched weeping over +it.</p> + +<p>We stayed a long time with her, but she did not +really revive. With infinite patience and tenderness, +Dennis knelt beside her, and listened to her ramblings +about Micky, and Micky’s hardships, and Micky’s +longings for home. Once or twice, I think, she was +on the point of telling about her savings, but she +glanced uneasily round the room and forbore. Dennis +gave the other woman some money, and told her to +give Biddy a good meal—to have given money to her +would have been useless—and he tried hard to convince +the old woman that Micky was quite able to +leave America if he wished. At last she seemed to +take this in, and it gave her, I fear, undue comfort, +from the conviction that, if this were so; he would soon +be home.</p> + +<p>After we left Biddy we went to seek decent lodgings +for the night. For Dennis was anxious to see +her again in the morning, and of course I stayed with +him.</p> + +<p>“Had you ever seen her before?” I asked, as we +walked.<!-- Page 242 --></p> + +<p>“Not to remember her. But, Jack, it wasn’t +Barney I saw in that first dream. It was Bridget.”</p> + +<p>Dennis was full of plans for getting her home with +him to Ireland; but when we went back next day, we +found a crowd round the archway that led into the +court. Prominent in the group was the woman who +“cared for” Biddy. Her baby was crying, her children +were crying, and she was crying too. And with +every moment that passed the crowd grew larger and +larger, as few things but bad news can make a crowd +grow.</p> + +<p>We learnt it very quickly. Biddy had been so +much cheered up by our visit, that when the woman +went out to buy supper for them, she did not lock the +door. When she came back, Biddy was gone. To +do her neighbours justice, we could not doubt—considering +how they talked then—that they had made +inquiries in all the streets and courts around.</p> + +<p>“And wherever t’ owld lass <i>can</i> ha’ gone!” sobbed +the woman who had been her neighbour in the noblest +sense of neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>I was beginning to comfort her when Dennis +gripped me by the arm:</p> + +<p>“I know,” said he. “Come along.”</p> + +<p>His face was white, his eyes shone, and he tossed +his head so wildly, he looked madder than Biddy had +looked; but when he began to run, and roughs in the +<!-- Page 243 -->streets began to pursue him, I ran too, as a matter of +safety. We drew breath at the dock gates.</p> + +<p>The gatekeeper told us that old Biddy, “looking +quite herself, only a bit thinner like,” had gone +through the evening before, to meet some one who +was coming off one of the vessels, as he understood, +but he had not noticed her on her return. He had +heard her ask some man about a ship from New +York.</p> + +<p>I wanted to hear more, but Dennis clutched me +again and dragged me on.</p> + +<p>“I’ll know the wharf when I see it,” said he.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he stopped, and pointed. A wharf, but +no vessel, only the water sobbing against the stones.</p> + +<p>“That’s the wharf,” he gasped. “That’s where he +sat and looked down. <i>She’s there</i>!”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He was right. We found her there at ebb of tide, +with no sign of turmoil or trouble about her, except +the grip that never could be loosened with which she +held Micky’s one letter fast in her hand.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><!-- Page 244 -->CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: -0.6em;">“Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.7em;">The lighthouse-top I see?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -0.7em;">Is this the hill? Is this the Kirk?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -2.2em;">Is this mine own countree?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">We drifted o’er the harbour bar,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.8em;">And I with sobs did pray—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1em;">O let me be awake, my <span class="smcap">God</span>!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -3.4em;">Or let me sleep alway.”</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;"><i>The Ancient Mariner</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Alister joined us the first evening after we +came back from poor Biddy, he was so deeply interested +in hearing about her, that he would have +gone with us the next morning, if he had not had +business on hand. He had a funny sort of remorse +for having misjudged her the day she befooled the +sentry to get me off. Business connected with Biddy’s +death detained Dennis in Liverpool for a day or two, +and as I had not given any warning of the date of my +return to my people, I willingly stayed with him. My +comrades had promised to go home with me before +proceeding on their respective ways, but (in answer to +<!-- Page 245 -->the-letter which announced his safe arrival in Liverpool) +Alister got a message from his mother summoning +him to Scotland at once on important family +matters, and the Shamrock fell to pieces sooner than +we had intended. In the course of a few days, Dennis +and I heard-from our old comrade.</p> + + +<p class="p1">“The Braes of Buie.</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 0em;">“<span class="smcap">My Dear Jack and Dennis</span>: I am home safe +and sound, though not in time for the funeral, which +(as partly consequent on the breaking of a tube in one +engine, and a trifling damage to the wheels of a second +that was attached, if ye understand me, with the purpose +of rectifying the deficiencies of the first, the +Company being, in my humble judgment, unwisely +thrifty in the matter of second-hand boilers) may be +regarded as a dispensation of Providence, and was in +no degree looked upon by any member of the family +as a wanting of respect towards the memory of the +deceased. With the sole and single exception of +Miss Margaret MacCantywhapple, a far-away cousin by +marriage, who, though in good circumstances, and a +very virtuous woman, may be said to have seen her +best days, and is not what she was in her intellectual +judgment, being afflicted with deafness and a species +of palsy, besides other infirmities in her faculties. I +misdoubt if I was wise in using my endeavours to +<!-- Page 246 -->make the poor body understand that I was at the +other side of the world when my cousin was taken +sick, all her response being, ‘<i>they aye say so</i>.’ However, +at long and last, she was brought to admit that +the best of us may misjudge, and as we all have our +faults, and hers are for the most part her misfortunes, +I tholed her imputations on my veracity in the consideration +of her bodily infirmities.</p> + +<p>“My dear mother, thank <span class="smcap">God</span>, is in her usual, and +overjoyed to see my face once more. She desires me +to present her respects to both of you, with an old +woman’s blessing. I’m aware that it will be a matter +of kindly satisfaction to you to learn that her old age +is secured in carnal comforts through my father’s +cousin having left all his worldly gear for her support; +that is, he left it to me, which is the same +thing. Not without a testimony of respect for my +father’s memory, that all the gear of Scotland would +be cheap to me by the side of; and a few words as to +industry, energy, and the like, which, though far from +being deserved on my part, sound—like voices out +of the mist upon the mountain side—sweeter and +weightier, it may be, than they deserve, when a body +hears them, as ye may say, out of the grave.</p> + +<p>“It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good, and it’s +not for me to complain of the down-break in the +engines, seeing that in place of rushing past the coast, +<!-- Page 247 -->we just crawled along the top of these grand cliffs in +the bonny sunshine, which hardly wakes a smile upon +the stern faces of them, while the white foam breaks +at no allowance about their feet. Many’s the hour, +Jack, I’ve lain on the moss, and looked down into a +dark cove to watch the tide come in, and turn blue, +and green, and tawny purple over the weeds and +rocks, and fall back again to where the black crags sit +in creamy surf with sea-birds on their shoulders. Eh! +man, it’s sweet to come home and see it all again; the +folk standing at their doors, and bairns sitting on the +dykes with flowers in their hands, and the waving +barley-fields on the cliff tops shining against the sea +and sky, as lights and shades change their places over +a woman’s hair. There were some decent bodies in +the train beside me, that thought I was daft, with my +head out of the window, in an awful draught, at the +serious risk of brow-ague, not to speak of coal-smuts, +which are horrid if ye get them in your eye. And not +without reason did they think so, for I’ll assure ye +I would have been loth to swear whether it was +spray or tears that made my cheeks so salt when I +saw the bit herring-boats stealing away out into +the blue mist, for all the world as if they were +laddies leaving home to seek their fortunes, as it +might be ourselves.</p> + +<p>“But I’m taking up your time with havers about +<!-- Page 248 -->my own country, and I ask your pardon; though I’m +not ashamed to say that, for what I’ve seen of the +world—tropics and all—give me the north-east coast of +Scotland!</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0em;">“I am hoping, at your leisure, to hear that ye both +reached home, and found all belonging to ye as ye +could wish; and I’m thinking that if Dennis wrote in +French, I might make it out, for I’ve come by an old +French Dictionary that was my father’s. <span class="smcap">God</span> save +the Shamrock! Your affectionate friend,</p> + +<p class="p3">“<span class="smcap">Alister Auchterlay</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<p>“I am ill at saying all that I feel, but I’ll never +forget.”</p> + + +<p>Dennis and I tramped from Liverpool. Partly for +the walk, and partly because we were nearly penniless. +His system, as I told him, seemed to be to empty his +pockets first, and to think about how he was going to +get along afterwards. However, it must be confessed +that the number and the needs of the poor Irish we +came across in connection with Biddy’s death and its +attendant ceremonies, were enough to be “the ruination” +of a far less tender-hearted Paddy than Dennis +O’Moore.</p> + +<p>And so—a real sailor with a real bundle under my +arm—I tramped Home.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 249 -->Dennis had been a good comrade out in the +world; but that was a trifle to the tact and sympathy +he displayed when my mother and father and I +were making fools of ourselves in each other’s +arms.</p> + +<p>He saw everything, and he pretended he saw +nothing. He picked up my father’s spectacles, and +waltzed with the dogs whilst the old gentleman was +blowing his nose. When Martha broke down in +hysterics (for which, it was not difficult to see, she +would punish herself and us later on, with sulking and +sandpaper), Dennis “brought her to” by an affectionate +hugging, which, as she afterwards explained, +seemed “that natteral” that she never realized its +impropriety till it was twenty-four hours too late to +remonstrate.</p> + +<p>When my dear mother was calmer, and very +anxious about our supper and beds, I ascertained +from my father that the Woods were from home, and +that Jem had gone down to the farm to sit for an +hour or so with Charlie; so, pending the preparation +of our fatted calf, Dennis and I went to bring both +Jem and Charlie back for the night.</p> + +<p>It was a dark, moonless night, only tempered by +the reflections of furnace fires among the hills. +Dennis thought they were northern lights. The lane +was cool, and fresh and damp, and full of autumn +<!-- Page 250 -->scents of fading leaves, and toadstools, and Herb +Robert and late Meadow Sweet. And as we crossed +the grass under the walnut-trees, I saw that the old +school-room window was open to the evening air, and +lighted from within.</p> + +<p>I signalled silence to Dennis, and we crept up, +as Jem and I had crept years ago to see the pale-faced +relation hunting for the miser’s will in the tea-caddy.</p> + +<p>In the old arm-chair sat Charlie, propped with +cushions. On one side of him Jem leant with elbows +on the table, and on the other side sat Master Isaac, +spectacles on nose.</p> + +<p>The whole table was covered by a Map of the +World, and Charlie’s high, eager voice came clearly +out into the night.</p> + +<p>“Isaac and I have marked every step they’ve gone, +Jem, but we don’t think it would be lucky to make +the back-mark over the Atlantic till they are quite safe +Home.”</p> + +<p>Dennis says, in his teasing way, he never believed +in my “athletics” till he saw me leap in through that +window. He was not far behind.</p> + +<p>“Jem!”</p> + +<p>“Jack!”</p> + +<p>When Jem released me and I looked round, +Charlie was resting in Dennis O’Moore’s arms and +<!-- Page 251 -->gazing up in his own odd, abrupt, searching way into +the Irish boy’s face.</p> + +<p>“Isaac!” he half laughed, half sobbed: “Dennis +is afraid of hurting this poor rickety body of mine. +Come here, will you, and pinch me, or pull my hair, +that I may be sure it isn’t all a dream!”</p> + +<p class="center">THE END.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap"><!-- Page 252 -->Richard Clay & Sons, Limited,<br /></span> +<span class="smcap">London & Bungay.</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 253 --><i>The present Series of Mrs. Ewing’s Works is +the only authorized, complete, and uniform Edition +published.</i></p> + +<p><i>It will consist of 18 volumes, Small Crown +8vo, at 2s. 6d. per vol., issued, as far as possible, in +chronological order, and these will appear at the +rate of two volumes every two months, so that +the Series will be completed within 18 months. +The device of the cover was specially designed by +a Friend of Mrs. Ewing.</i></p> + +<p><i>The following is a list of the books included in +the Series—</i></p> + +<ol> +<li>MELCHIOR’S DREAM, AND OTHER TALES.</li> + +<li>MRS. OVERTHEWAY’S REMEMBRANCES.</li> + +<li>OLD-FASHIONED FAIRY TALES.</li> + +<li>A FLAT IRON FOR A FARTHING.</li> + +<li>THE BROWNIES, AND OTHER TALES.</li> + +<li>SIX TO SIXTEEN.</li> + +<li>LOB LIE-BY-THE-FIRE, AND OTHER TALES.</li> + +<li>JAN OF THE WINDMILL.</li> + +<li><!-- Page 254 -->VERSES FOR CHILDREN, AND SONGS.</li> + +<li>THE PEACE EGG—A CHRISTMAS MUMMING PLAY—HINTS FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS, &c.</li> + +<li>A GREAT EMERGENCY, AND OTHER TALES.</li> + +<li>BROTHERS OF PITY, AND OTHER TALES OF BEASTS AND MEN.</li> + +<li>WE AND THE WORLD, Part I.</li> + +<li>WE AND THE WORLD, Part II.</li> + +<li>JACKANAPES—DADDY DARWIN’S DOVECOTE—THE STORY OF A SHORT LIFE.</li> + +<li>MARY’S MEADOW, AND OTHER TALES OF FIELDS AND FLOWERS.</li> + +<li>MISCELLANEA, including The Mystery of the Bloody Hand—Wonder Stories—Tales of the Khoja, and other translations.</li> + +<li>JULIANA HORATIA EWING AND HER BOOKS, with a selection from Mrs. Ewing’s Letters.</li> +</ol> +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">S.P.C.K., NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, LONDON, W.C.</span></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of We and the World, Part II. 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