Kitabı oku: «Sturdy and Strong: or, How George Andrews Made His Way», sayfa 12

"'We've been waiting a long time, Joe. Where have you been?'

"'I've been out sailing, missy.'

"'Joe, don't you know it's wicked to tell stories? You told us you should never go on sea any more.'

"'No more I didn't think I should, missy; and I don't suppose I ever should if I hadn't met you, though you won't understand that. However, I've give up the stage, and have taken to the sea again.'

"'I'm glad of that, Joe,' the eldest said, 'and mamma will be glad too.'

"'Why should mamma be glad, little one?' I asked.

"'Mamma will be glad,' she said positively. 'I know she will be glad when I tells her.'

"We'd sat down by this time, and I began to talk to them about their mamma. Mamma very good, very kind, very pretty, they both agreed; and then they went on telling me about their home in London, and their carriage and amusements. Presently they stopped, and I could see the eldest wanted to say something particular, for she puckered up her forehead as she always did when she was very serious; and then she said, with her hands folded before her, almost as if she was saying a lesson:

"'Mamma very happy woman. She's got two little girls and baby-brother, and papa love her so much; but there's one thing keeps her from being quite happy.'

"'Is there, missy?' I asked. 'She ought to be happy with all these things. What is it?'

"'Mamma once had someone do a great thing for her. If it hadn't been for him Nina and sissy and little baby-brother could never have been born, and papa would never have had dear mamma to love; but it cost the man who did it a great deal – all he cared for; and now he won't let mamma and papa and us love him and help him; and it makes mamma unhappy when she thinks of it.'

"Here she had evidently finished what she had heard her mamma say, for her forehead got smooth again, and she began to fill my pockets with sand.

"'It don't sound likely, missy, that doesn't,' I says. 'It don't stand to reason nohow. You can't have understood what mamma said.'

"'Mamma said it over and over again, lots of time,' Nina said. 'Nina quite sure she said right.'

"We didn't say no more about it then, though after the children had gone I wondered to myself how a chap could go on so foolish as that. Well, sir, three days after come round from Whitby this very boat, the Grateful Mary. She was sent care of Joe Denton; and as that was me, I had her hauled up on the beach till I should hear whose she was. Several visitors that had been out with me had said, promiscuous like, that they should like to have a boat of their own, and I supposed they had bought her at Whitby and sent her down, though why they should have sent her to my care I couldn't quite see.

"Two days afterwards them children come down, and says:

"'We want you to go through the town to the other cliff with us, Joe.'

"'I can't,' says I. 'I'm all right talking to you here, missies; but I shouldn't be a credit to you in the town, and your pa wouldn't be best pleased if he was to see you walking about in the streets with a boatman.'

"'Papa said we might ask you, Joe.'

"I shook my head, and the little ladies ran off to their nurse, who come back with them and says:

"'Master told me to say he should be pertickler glad if you would go with the young ladies.'

"'Oh, very well,' I says; 'if their pa don't object, and they wishes it, I'd go with 'em anywheres. You wait here a quarter of an hour, while I goes and cleans myself, and I'll go with you.'

"When I comes back the youngest takes my hand, and the oldest holds by my jacket, and we goes up into High Street, and across to the other cliff. We goes along till we comes to a pretty little cottage looking over the sea. There was a garden in front, new planted with flowers.

"'Are you sure you are going right?' says I, when they turned in.

"They nodded, and ran up to the door and turned the handle.

"'Come in, Joe,' they said; and they dragged me into a parlor, where a lady and gentleman was sitting.

"The gentleman got up.

"'My little girls have spoken so much to me about you, Joe, that I feel that we know each other already.'

"'Yes, sir, surely,' says I.

"'Well, Joe, do you know that I owe you a great deal as to these little girls?'

"'Bless you, sir, it's I as owe a great deal to the little missies; they have made a changed man of me, they have; you ask anyone on the shore.'

"'I hope they have, Joe; for had they not got round your heart, and led you to your better self, I could never have done what I have done, for you would have rendered it useless.'

"I didn't say nothing, sir, for I could make neither head nor tail of what he was saying, and, I dessay, looked as surprised as might be. Then he takes a step forward, and he puts a hand on my shoulder, and says he:

"'Joe, have you never guessed who these little girls were?'

"I looked first at the children, and then at him, and then at the lady, who had a veil down, but was wiping her eyes underneath it. I was downright flummuxed.

"'I see you haven't,' the gentleman went on. 'Well, Joe, it is time you should know now. I owe to you all that is dear to me in this world, and our one unhappiness has been that you would not hear us, that you had lost everything and would not let us do anything to lighten your blow.'

"Still, sir, I couldn't make out what he meant, and began to think that I was mad, or that he was. Then the lady stood up and threw back her veil, and come up in front of me with the tears a-running down her face; and I fell back a step, and sits down suddenly in a chair, for, sure enough, it was that gal. Different to what I had seen her last, healthy-looking and well – older, in course; a woman now, and the mother of my little ladies.

"She stood before me, sir, with her hands out before her, pleading like.

"'Don't hate me any more, Joe. Let my children stand between us. I know what you have suffered, and, in all my happiness, the thought of your loneliness has been a trouble, as my husband will tell you. I so often thought of you – a broken, lonely man. I have talked to the children of you till they loved the man that saved their mother's life. I cannot give you what you have lost, Joe – no one can do that; but you may make us happy in making you comfortable. At least, if you cannot help hating me, let the love I know you bear my children weigh with you.'

"As she spoke the children were hanging on me; and when she stopped the little one said:

"'Oh, Joe, oo must be dood; oo mustn't hate mamma, and make her cry!'

"Well, sir, I know as I need tell you more about it. You can imagine how I quite broke down, like a great baby, and called myself every kind of name, saying only that I thought, and I a'most think so now, that I had been somehow mad from the moment the squall struck the Kate till the time I first met the little girls.

"When I thought o' that, and how I'd cut that poor gal to her drowning heart with my words, I could ha' knelt to her if she'd ha' let me. At last, when I was quiet, she explained that this cottage and its furniture and the Grateful Mary was all for me; and we'd a great fight over it, and I only gave in when at last she says that if I didn't do as she wanted she'd never come down to Scarborough with the little ladies no more; but that if I 'greed they'd come down regular every year, and that the little girls should go out sailing with me regular in the Grateful Mary.

"Well, sir, there was no arguing against that, was there? So here I am; and next week I expect Miss Mary that was, with her husband, who's a Parliament man, as she was engaged to be married to at the time of the upset, and my little ladies, who is getting quite big girls too. And if you hadn't been going away I'd ha' sailed round the castle tower, and I'd ha' pointed out the cottage to you. Yes, sir, I see what you are going to ask. I found it lonely there; and I found the widow of a old mate of mine who seemed to think as how she could make me comfortable; and comfortable I am, sir – no words could say how comfortable I am; and do you know, sir, I'm blest if there aint a Joe up there at this identical time, only he's a very little one, and has got both arms. So you see, sir, I have got about as little right as has any chap in this mortial world to the name of Surly Joe."

A FISH-WIFE'S DREAM

Falmouth is not a fashionable watering-place. Capitalists and speculative builders have somehow left it alone, and, except for its great hotel, standing in a position, as far as I know, unrivaled, there have been comparatively few additions to it in the last quarter of a century. Were I a yachtsman I should make Falmouth my headquarters: blow high, blow low, there are shelter and plenty of sailing room, while in fine weather there is a glorious coast along which to cruise – something very different from the flat shores from Southampton to Brighton. It is some six years since that I was lying in the harbor, having sailed round in a friend's yacht from Cowes. Upon the day after we had come in my friend went into Truro, and I landed, strolled up, and sat down on a bench high on the seaward face of the hill that shelters the inner harbor.

An old coastguardsman came along. I offered him tobacco, and in five minutes we were in full talk.

"I suppose those are the pilchard boats far out there?"

"Aye, that's the pilchard fleet."

"Do they do well generally?"

"Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't; it's an uncertain fish the pilchard, and it's a rough life is fishing on this coast. There aint a good harbor not this side of the Lizard; and if they're caught in a gale from the southeast it goes hard with them. With a southwester they can run back here."

"Were you ever a fisherman yourself?"

"Aye, I began life at it; I went a-fishing as a boy well-nigh fifty year back, but I got a sickener of it, and tramped to Plymouth and shipped in a frigate there, and served all my time in queen's ships."

"Did you get sick of fishing because of the hardships of the life, or from any particular circumstance?"

"I got wrecked on the Scillys. There was fifty boats lost that night, and scarce a hand was saved. I shouldn't have been saved myself if it had not been for a dream of mother's."

"That's curious," I said. "Would you mind telling me about it?"

The old sailor did not speak for a minute or two; and then, after a sharp puff at his pipe, he told me the following story, of which I have but slightly altered the wording:

I lived with mother at Tregannock. It's a bit of a village now, as it was then. My father had been washed overboard and drowned two years before. I was his only son. The boat I sailed in was mother's, and four men and myself worked her in shares. I was twenty-one, or maybe twenty-two, years old then. It was one day early in October. We had had a bad season, and times were hard. We'd agreed to start at eight o'clock in the morning. I was up at five, and went down to the boats to see as everything was ready. When I got back mother had made breakfast; and when we sat down I saw that the old woman had been crying, and looked altogether queer like.

"My boy," says she, "I want you not to go out this trip."

"Not go out!" said I; "not go out, mother! Why? What's happened? Your share and mine didn't come to three pounds last month, and it would be a talk if I didn't go out in the Jane. Why, what is it?"

"My boy," says she, "I've had a dream as how you was drowned."

"Drowned!" said I; "I'm not going to be drowned, mother."

But what she said made me feel creepy like, for us Cornishmen goes a good deal on dreams and tokens; and sure enough mother had dreamed father was going to be drowned before he started on that last trip of his.

"That's not all, Will," she said. "I dreamed of you in bed, and a chap was leaning over you cutting your throat."

I didn't care much for going on with my breakfast after that; but in a minute or two I plucks up and says:

"Well, mother, you're wrong, anyhow; for if I be drowned no one has no call to cut my throat."

"I didn't see you downright drowned in my dream," she said. "You was in the sea – a terribly rough sea – at night, and the waves were breaking down on you."

"I can't help going, mother," I says, after a bit. "It's a fine day, and it's our boat. All the lads and girls in the village would laugh at me if I stayed at home."

"That's just what your father said; and he went to his death."

And my mother, as she says this, puts her apron over her head and began to cry again. I'd more than half a mind to give way; but you know what young chaps are. The thought of what the girls of the place would say about my being afraid to go was too much for me.

At last, when mother saw I was bent on going, she got up and said:

"Well, Will, if my prayers can't keep you back, will you do something else I ask you?"

"I will, mother," said I – "anything but stay back."

She went off without a word into her bedroom, and she came back with something in her arms.

"Look here, Will, I made this for your father, and he wouldn't have it; now I ask you to take it, and put it on if a storm comes on. You see, you can put it on under your dreadnaught coat, and no one will be any the wiser."

The thing she brought in was two flat Dutch spirit-bottles, sewn between two pieces of canvas. It had got strings sewed on for tying round the body, and put on as she did to show me how, one bottle each side of the chest, it lay pretty flat.

"Now, Will, these bottles will keep you up for hours. A gentleman who was staying in the village before you was born was talking about wrecks, and he said that a couple of empty bottles, well corked, would keep up a fair swimmer for hours. So I made it; but no words could get your father to try it, though he was willing enough to say that it would probably keep him afloat. You'll try it, won't you, Will?"

I didn't much like taking it, but I thought there wasn't much chance of a storm, and that if I put it under my coat and hid it away down in the forecastle, no one would see it; and so to please her I said I'd take it, and that if a bad storm came on I would slip it on.

"I will put a wineglass of brandy into one of the bottles," mother said. "It may be useful to you; who can say?"

I got the life-preserver, as you call it nowadays, on board without its being seen, and stowed it away in my locker. I felt glad now I'd got it, for mother's dream had made me feel uneasy; and on my way down old Dick Tremaine said to me:

"I don't like the look of the sky, lad."

"No!" says I; "why, it looks fine enough."

"Too fine, lad. I tell ye, boy, I don't like the look of it. I think we're going to have a bad blow."

I told the others what he had said; but they didn't heed much. Two boats had come in that morning with a fine catch, and after the bad time we'd been having it would have taken a lot to keep them in after that.

We thought no more about it after we had once started. The wind was light and puffy; but we had great luck, and were too busy to watch the weather. What wind there was, was northerly; but towards sunset it dropped suddenly, and as the sails flapped we looked round at the sky.

"I fear old Dick was right, lads," Jabez Harper, who was skipper, said, "and I wish we had taken more heed to his words. That's about as wild a sunset as may be; and look how that drift is nearing our boat."

Even I, who was the youngest of them, was old enough to read the signs of a storm – the heavy bank of dark clouds, the pale-yellow broken light, the horse-tails high up in the sky, and the small broken irregular masses of cloud that hurried across them. Instinctively we looked round towards the coast. It was fully fifteen miles away, and we were to the east of it. The great change in the appearance of the sky had taken place in the last half-hour; previous to that time there had been nothing which would have struck any but a man grown old upon the coast like Dick Tremaine.

"Reef the mainsail," Jabez said, "and the foresail too; take in the mizzen. Like enough it will come with a squall, and we'd best be as snug as may be. What do you say? shall we throw over some of the fish?"

It was a hard thing to agree to; but every minute the sky was changing. The scud was flying thicker and faster overhead, and the land was lost in a black cloud that seemed to touch the water.

"We needn't throw 'em all out," Jabez said; "if we get rid of half she'll be about in her best trim; and she's as good a sea-boat as there is on the coast. Come, lads, don't look at it."

It was, as he said, no use looking at it, and in five minutes half our catch of the day was overboard. The Jane was a half-decked boat, yawl-rigged; she wasn't built in our parts, but had been brought round from somewhere east by a gentleman as a fishing-craft. He had used her for two years, and had got tired of the sport, and my father had bought her of him. She wasn't the sort of boat generally used about here, but we all liked her, and swore by her.

"It will be a tremendous blow for the first few minutes, I reckon," Jabez said after a while. "Lower down her sails altogether; get her head to it with a sweep. I'll take the helm; Harry, you stand ready to hoist the foresail a few feet; and, Will, you and John stand by the hoists of the mainsail. We must show enough to keep her laying-to as long as we can. You'd best get your coats out and put 'em on, and batten down the hatch."

I let the others go down first, and when they came up I went in, tied the life-belt round me, and put on my oilskin. I fetched out a bottle of hollands from my locker, and then came out and fastened the hatch.

"Here comes the first puff," Jabez said.

I stowed away the bottle among some ropes for our future use, and took hold of the throat halyard.

"Here it comes," Jabez said, as a white line appeared under the cloud of mist and darkness ahead, and then with a roar it was upon us.

I have been at sea, man and boy, for forty years, and I never remember in these latitudes such a squall as that. For a few minutes I could scarcely see or breathe. The spray flew in sheets over us, and the wind roared so that you wouldn't have heard a sixty-eight-pounder ten yards off. At first I thought we were going down bodily. It was lucky we had taken every stitch of canvas off her, for, as she spun round, the force of the wind against the masts and rigging all but capsized her. In five minutes the first burst was over, and we were running before it under our close-reefed foresail only. There was no occasion for us to stand by the halyards now, and we all gathered in the stern, and crouched down in the well. Although the sun had only gone down half an hour it was pitch-dark, except that the white foam round us gave a sort of dim light that made the sky look all the blacker. The sea got up in less time than it takes in telling, and we were soon obliged to hoist the foresail a bit higher to prevent the waves from coming in over the stern. For three hours we tore on before the gale, and then it lulled almost as suddenly as it had come on. There had scarcely been a word spoken between us during this time. I was half asleep in spite of the showers of spray. Jim Hackers, who was always smoking, puffed away steadily; Jabez was steering still, and the others were quite quiet. With the sudden lull we were all on our feet.

"Is it all over, Jabez?" I asked.

"It's only begun," he said. "I scarce remember such a gale as this since I was a boy. Pass that bottle of yours round, Will; we shall be busy again directly. One of you take the helm; I'm stiff with the wet. We shall have it round from the south in a few minutes."

There was scarce a breath of wind now, and she rolled so I thought she would have turned turtle.

"Get out a sweep," Jabez said, "and bring her head round."

We had scarcely done so ere the first squall from behind struck us, and in five minutes we were running back as fast as we had come. The wind was at first south, but settled round to southeast. We got up a little more sail now, and made a shift to keep her to the west, for with this wind we should have been ashore long before morning if we had run straight before it. The sea had been heavy – it was tremendous now; and, light and seaworthy as the Jane was, we had to keep baling as the sea broke into her. Over and over again I thought that it was all over with us as the great waves towered above our stern, but they slipped under us as we went driving on at twelve or fourteen knots an hour. I stood up by the side of Jabez, and asked him what he thought of it.

"I can't keep her off the wind," he said; "we must run, and by midnight we shall be among the Scillys. Then it's a toss-up."

Jabez's calculations could not have been far out, for it was just midnight, as far as I could tell, when we saw a flash right ahead.

"That's a ship on one of the Scillys," Jabez said. "I wish I knew which it was."

He tried to bring her a little more up into the wind, but she nearly lay over onto her beam-ends, and Jabez let her go ahead again. We saw one more flash, and then a broad faint light. The ship was burning a blue light. She was not a mile ahead now, and we could see she was a large vessel. I had often been to the Scillys before, and knew them as well as I did our coast, but I could not see the land. It was as Jabez had said – a toss-up. If we just missed one of them we might manage to bring up under its lee; but if we ran dead into one or other of them the Jane would break up like an egg-shell.

We were rapidly running down upon the wreck when the glare of a fire on shore shone up. It was a great blaze, and we could faintly see the land and a white cottage some hundred yards from the shore.

"I know it," Jabez shouted; "we are close to the end of the island; we may miss it yet. Hoist the mainsail a bit."

I leapt up with another to seize the halyards, when a great wave struck us; she gave a roll, and the next moment I was in the water.

After the first wild efforts I felt calm like. I knew the shore was but half a mile ahead, and that the wind would set me dead upon it. I loosened my tarpaulin coat and shook it off, and I found that with mother's belt I could keep easily enough afloat, though I was half drowned with the waves as they swept in from behind me. My mother's dream cheered me up, for, according to that, it did not seem as I was to be drowned, whatever was to come afterwards. I drifted past the wreck within a hundred yards or so. They were still burning blue lights; but the sea made a clean sweep over her, and I saw that in a very few minutes she would go to pieces. Many times as the seas broke over me I quite gave up hope of reaching shore; but I was a fair swimmer, and the bottles buoyed me up, and I struggled on.

I could see the fire on shore, but the surf that broke against the rocks showed a certain death if I made for it, and I tried hard to work to the left, where I could see no breaking surf. It seemed to me that the fire was built close to the end of the island. As I came close I found that this was so. I drifted past the point of land not fifty feet off, where the waves were sending their spray a hundred feet up; then I made a great struggle, and got in under the lee of the point. There was a little bay with a shelving shore, and here I made a shift to land. Five minutes to rest, and then I made my way towards the fire. There was no one there, and I went to the edge of the rocks. Here four or five men with ropes were standing, trying to secure some of the casks, chests, and wreckage from the ship. The surf was full of floating objects, but nothing could stand the shock of a crash against those rocks. The water was deep alongside, and the waves, as they struck, flew up in spray, which made standing almost impossible.

The men came round me when they saw me. There was no hearing one speak in the noise of the storm; so I made signs I had landed behind the point, and that if they came with their ropes to the point they might get something as it floated past. They went off, and I sat down by the fire, wrung my clothes as well as I could, – I thought nothing of the wet, for one is wet through half the time in a fishing-boat, – took off mother's belt, and found one of the bottles had broke as I got ashore; but luckily it was the one which was quite empty. I got the cork out of the other, and had a drink of brandy, and then felt pretty right again. I had good hopes the boat was all right, for she would get round the point easy, and Jabez would bring her up under the lee of the island. I thought I would go and see if I could help the others, and perhaps save someone drifting from the wreck; but I did not think there was very much chance, for she lay some little distance to the right, and I hardly thought a swimmer could keep off the shore.

Just as I was going to move I saw two of them coming back. They had a body between them, and they put it down a little distance from the fire. I was on the other side, and they had forgotten all about me. They stooped over the figure, and I could not see what they were doing. I got up and went over, and they gave a start when they saw me. "Is he alive?" says I. "Dunno," one of 'em growled; and I could see pretty well that if I had not been there it would have gone hard with the chap. He was a foreign, Jewish-looking fellow, and had around him one of the ship's life-buoys. There were lots of rings on his fingers, and he had a belt round his waist that looked pretty well stuffed out. I put my hand to his heart, and found he still breathed; and then I poured a few drops of brandy which remained in my bottle down his throat.

While I was doing this the two men had talked to each other aside. "He's alive, all right," says I. "That's a good job," one of 'em said; but I knew he didn't think so. "We'll carry him up to our cottage. You'll be all the better for a sleep; it must be past two o'clock by this time."

They took the chap up, and carried him to the cottage, and put him on a bed. He was moaning a little, and between us we undressed him and got him into bed. "I doubt he'll come round," I said.

"I don't believe he will. Will you have a drink of whisky?"

I was mighty glad to do so, and then, throwing off my wet clothes, I got into the other bed, for there were two in the room.

The men said they were going down again to see what they could get. They left the whisky bottle on the table, and as soon as I was alone I jumped out and poured a little into the other chap's teeth, so as to give him as good a chance as I could; but I didn't much think he'd get round, and then I got into bed and shut my eyes. I was just going off, when, with a sudden jump, I sat straight up. Mother's dream came right across me. I was out of bed in a moment, and looked at the door. There was no bolt, so I put a couple of chairs against it. Then I took my clasp-knife out of my pocket and opened it. I gave the other chap a shake, but there was no sense in him, and I got into bed again. I thought to myself they would never risk a fight when they saw me armed and ready. But I soon found that I couldn't keep awake; so I got up and dressed in my wet clothes, and went to the door. I found it was fastened on the outside. I soon opened the window and got out, but before I did that I rolled up some clothes and put 'em in the bed, and made a sort of likeness of a man there. The poor fellow in bed was lying very still now, and I felt pretty sure that he would not live till morning. The candle was a fresh one when they had first lighted it, and I left it burning.

When I had got out I shut the window, and went away fifty yards or so, where I could hear them come back. Presently I heard some footsteps coming from the opposite direction. Then I heard a voice I knew say, "There is the fire; we shall soon know whether the poor lad has got ashore."

"Here am I, Jabez," I said. "Hush!" as he and the other were going to break into a shout of welcome, "hush! Some wreckers are coming up directly to cut my throat and that of another chap in that cottage."

In a word or two I told them all about it; and they agreed to wait with me and see the end of it. Jabez had brought the Jane up under the lee of the island, and, leaving two of the men on board, had come on shore in the cobble with the other to look for me, but with very faint hopes of finding me.

"You had best get hold of something to fight with, if you mean to take these fellows, Jabez."

"A good lump of rock is as good a weapon as another," Jabez said.

Our plan was soon arranged, and half an hour later we heard footsteps coming up from the shore again. Two men passed us, went into the cottage, and shut the door. Jabez and I made round to the window, where we could see in, and John Redpath stood at the door. He was to open it and rush in when he heard us shout. We stood a little back, but we could see well into the room. Presently we saw the door open very quietly, little by little. A hand came through and moved the chairs, and then it opened wide. Then the two men entered. One, a big fellow, had a knife in his hand, and drew towards the bed, where, as it seemed, I was sleeping, with my head covered up by the clothes. The other had no knife in his hand, and came towards the other bed.

"Get ready, lad," Jabez said to me.

The big fellow raised his knife and plunged it down into the figure, throwing his weight onto it at the same moment, while the smaller man snatched the pillow from under the other's head and clapped it over his face, and threw his weight on it. As they did so we pushed the casement open and leapt in. I seized the smaller man, who was suffocating the other chap, and before he could draw his knife I had him on the ground and my knee on his chest. The big fellow had leapt up. He gave a howl of rage as Jabez rushed at him, and stood at bay with his knife. Jabez stopped, however, and threw his lump of rock, as big as a baby's head, right into his stomach. It just tumbled him over like a cannon-shot. John burst in through the door, and we had 'em both tied tightly before five minutes was over. Then we lit a big fire in the kitchen, and with warm clothes and some hot whisky and water we got the foreign chap pretty well round.