R. M. Ballantyne
The Young Trawler
Chapter One.
Introduces Deep-Sea Fishermen And their Families
On a certain breezy morning in Octobernot many years agoa wilderness of foam rioted wildly over those dangerous sands which lie off the port of Yarmouth, where the Evening Star, fishing-smack, was getting ready for sea.
In one of the narrow lanes or Rows peculiar to that town, the skipper of the smack stood at his own door, grumbling. He was a broad burly man, a little past the prime of life, but prematurely aged by hard work and hard living.
Hes always out o the way when hes wanted, an always in the way when hes not wanted, said the skipper angrily to his wife, of whom he was at the moment taking, as one of his mates remarked, a tender farewell.
Dont be hard on him, David, pleaded the wife, tearfully, as she looked up in her husbands face.
Hes only a bit thoughtless; and I shouldnt wonder if he was already down at the smack.
If hes not, returned the fisherman with a frown, as he clenched his huge right handand a hard and horny hand it was, from constant grappling with ropes, oars, hand-spikes, and the likeif hes not, Ill
He stopped abruptly, as he looked down at his wifes eyes, and the frown faded. No wonder, for that wifes eyes were soft and gentle, and her face was fair and very attractive as well as refined in expression, though not particularly pretty.
Well, old girl, come, I wont be hard on im. Now Im off,good-day. And with that the fisherman stooped to kiss his wife, who returned the salute with interest. At the same time she thrust a packet into his hand.
Whats this, Nell?
A Testament, Davidfrom me. It will do your soul good if you will read it. And the tract wrapped round it is from a lady.
The frown returned to the mans face as he growled What lady?
The lady with the curious name, who was down here last summer for sea-bathing; dont you remember Miss Ruth Dotropy? It is a temperance tract.
David Bright made a motion as though he were about to fling the parcel away, but he thought better of it, and thrust it into the capacious pocket of his rough coat. The brow cleared again as he left his wife, who called after him, Dont be hard on Billy, David; remember hes our only oneand hes not bad, just a little thoughtless.
Never fear, Nell, Ill make a man of him.
Lighting a large pipe as he spoke, the skipper of the Evening Star nodded farewell, and sauntered away.
In another of the narrow lanes of Yarmouth another fisherman stood at his own door, also taking leave of his wife. This man was the matejust engagedof David Brights vessel, and very different in some respects from the skipper, being tall, handsome, fresh and youngnot more than twenty-fouras well as powerful of build. His wife, a good-looking young woman, with their first-born in her arms, had bidden him good-bye.
We will not trouble the reader with more of their parting conversation than the last few words.
Now, Maggie, dear, whatever you do, take care o that blessed babby.
Trust me for that, Joe, said Maggie, imprinting a kiss of considerable violence and fervour on the said baby, which gazed at its motheras it gazed at everythingin blank amazement.
An dont forget to see Miss Ruth, if you can, or send a message to her, about that matter.
Ill not forget, Joe.
The mate of the Evening Star bestowed a parting kiss of extreme gentleness on the wondering infant, and hastened away.
He had not proceeded far when he encountered a creature which filled his heart with laughter. Indeed Joe Davidsons heart was easily filled with emotions of every kind, for he was an unusually sympathetic fellow, and rather fond of a joke.
The creature referred to was a small boy of thirteen years of age or thereabouts, with a pretty little face, a Grecian little nose, a rose-bud of a mouth, curly fair hair, bright blue eyes, and a light handsome frame, which, however, was a smart, active, and wiry frame. He was made to look as large and solid as possible by means of the rough costume of a fisherman, and there was a bold look in the blue eyes which told of a strong will. What amused Joe Davidson most, however, was the tremendous swagger in the creatures gait and the imperturbable gravity with which he smoked a cigar! The little fellow was so deeply absorbed in thought as he passed the mate that he did not raise his eyes from the ground. An irresistible impulse seized on Joe. He stooped, and gently plucked the cigar from the boys mouth.
Instantly the creature doubled his little fists, and, without taking the trouble to look so high as his adversarys face, rushed at his legs, which he began to kick and pommel furiously.
As the legs were cased in heavy sea-boots he failed to make any impression on them, and, after a few moments of exhausting effort, he stepped back so as to get a full look at his foe.
What dee mean by that, Joe Davidson, you fathom of impudence? he demanded, with flushed face and flashing eyes.
Only that I wants a light, answered the mate, pulling out his pipe, and applying the cigar to it.
Humph! returned the boy, mollified, and at the same time tickled, by the obvious pretence; you might have axed leave first, I think.
So I might. I ax parding now, returned Joe, handing back the cigar; good-day, Billy.
The little boy, gazed after the fisherman in speechless admiration, for the cool quiet manner in which the thing had been done had, as he said, taken the wind completely out of his sails, and prevented his usually ready reply.
Replacing the cigar in the rose-bud, he went puffing along till he reached the house of David Bright, which he entered.
Your fathers gone, Billy, said Mrs Bright. Haste ye after him, else youll catch it. Oh! do give up smokin, dear boy. Good-bye. God keep you, my darling.
She caught the little fellow in a hasty embrace.
Hold on, mother, youll bust me! cried Billy, returning the embrace, however, with affectionate vigour. An if Im late, daddy will sail without me. Let go!
He shouted the last words as if the reference had been to the anchor of the Evening Star. His mother laughed as she released him, and he ran down to the quay with none of his late dignity remaining. He knew his fathers temper well, and was fearful of being left behind.
He was just in time. The little smack was almost under weigh as he tumbled, rather than jumped, on board. Ere long she was out beyond the breakers that marked the shoals, and running to the eastward under a stiff breeze.
This was little Billys first trip to sea in his fathers fishing-smack, and he went not as a passenger but as a hand. It is probable that there never sailed out of Yarmouth a lad who was prouder of his position than little Billy of the Evening Star. He was rigged from top to toe in a brand-new suit of what we may style nautical garments. His thin little body was made to appear of twice its natural bulk by a broad-shouldered pilot-cloth coat, under which was a thick guernsey. He was almost extinguished by a large yellow sou-wester, and all but swallowed up by a pair of sea-boots that reached to his hips. These boots, indeed, seemed so capacious as to induce the belief that if he did not take care the part of his body that still remained outside of them might fall inside and disappear.
Altogetherwhat between pride of position, vanity in regard to the new suit, glee at being fairly at sea and doing for himself, and a certain humorous perception that he was ridiculously smalllittle Billy presented a very remarkable appearance as he stood that day on the deck of his fathers vessel, with his little legs straddling wide apart, after the fashion of nautical men, and his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his sea-going coat.
For some time he was so engrossed with the novelty of his situation, and the roll of the crested waves, that his eyes did not rise much higher than the legs of his comparatively gigantic associates; but when curiosity at last prompted him to scan their faces, great was his surprise to observe among them Joe Davidson, the young man who had plucked the cigar from his lips in Yarmouth.
What! are you one o the hands, Joe? he asked, going towards the man with an abortive attempt to walk steadily on the pitching deck.
Ay, lad, Im your fathers mate, replied Joe. But surely you are not goin as a hand?
Thats just what I am, returned Billy, with a look of dignity which was somewhat marred by a heavy lurch causing him to stagger. Im part owner, dee see, an ready to take command when the old man retires, so youd better mind your helm, young man, an steer clear of impudence in future, if you dont want to lead the life of a dog aboard of this here smack.
Ill try, sir, said Joe Davidson, touching his forelock, while a humorous twinkle lit up his bright eyes.
Hallo! Billy! shouted the skipper, who was steering; come here, boy. You didnt come aboard to idle, you know; Ive let you have a good look at the sea all for nothin. Its time now that you went to work to larn your duties. Zulu!
The last word caused a woolly head to protrude from the after hatchway, revealing a youth about twice the size of Billy. Having some drops of black blood in him this lad had been styled Zuluand, being a handy fellow, had been made cook.
Here, take this boy below, said the skipper, and teach him somethinganything you like, so long as you keep him at work. No idlers allowed on board, you know.
Yes, sar, said Zulu.
Billy was delighted to obey. He was naturally a smart, active fellow, and not only willing, but proud, to submit to discipline. He descended a short ladder into the little cabin with which he had become acquainted, as a visitor, when the smack was in port on former occasions. With Zulu he was also acquainted, that youth having been for some time in his fathers service.
Kin you do cookin? asked Zulu with a grin that revealed an unusually large cavern full of glistening teeth, mingled with more than an average allowance of tongue and gums.
Oh! I say, remonstrated Billy, its growed bigger than ever!
Zulu expanded his mouth to its utmost, and shut his eyes in enjoyment of the complimentary joke.
Oh course it hab, he said on recovering; Is bliged to eat so much at sea dat de mout gits wider ebery trip. Dat leetle hole what youve got in your face ll git so big as mine fore long, Billy. Den you be like some ob de leetle fishes we catchall mout and no body worth mentioning. But you no tell me yit: Kin you do cookin?
Oh yes, I can manage a Yarmouth bloater, replied Billy.
But, said Zulu, kin you cook a tater widout makin hims outside all of a mush, an hims inside same so as a stone?
Instead of answering, Billy sat down on the settle which ran round the cabin and looked up at his dark friend very solemnly.
Hallo! exclaimed Zulu.
Theretheres something wrong wi me, said Billy, with a faint attempt to smile as he became rather pale.
Seeing this, his friend quietly put a bucket beside him.
I say, Zulu, observed the poor boy with a desperate attempt at pleasantry, I wonder whats up.
Des nuffin up yit but he wont be long, replied the young cook with a look full of sympathy.
It would be unjust to our little hero to proceed further. This being, as we have said, his first trip to sea, he naturally found himself, after an hour or two, stretched out in one of the bunks which surrounded the little cabin. There he was permitted to lie and think longingly of his mother, surrounded by dense tobacco smoke, hot vapours, and greasy fumes, until he blushed to find himself wishing, with all his heart, that he had never left home!
There we will leave him to meditate and form useless resolves, which he never carried out, while we introduce to the reader some of the other actors in our tale.
Chapter Two.
A Contrast to Chapter I
From that heaving grey wilderness of water called the North Sea we pass now to that lively wilderness of bricks and mortar called London.
West-end mansions are not naturally picturesque or interesting subjects either for the brush or the pen, and we would not willingly drag our readers into one of them, did not circumstancesover which we have not a shadow of controlcompel us to do so.
The particular mansion to which we now direct attention belonged to a certain Mrs Dotropy, whose husbands ancestors, by the way, were said to have come over with the Conquerorwhether in his own ship or in one of the bumboats that followed is not certain. They were De Tropys at that time, but, having sunk in the social scale in the course of centuries, and then risen again in succeeding centuries through the medium of trade, they reappeared on the surface with their patronymic transformed as now presented.
Mother, said Ruth Dotropy to a magnificent duchess-like woman, Ive come to ask you about the poor
Ruth, dear, interrupted the mother, I wish you would not worry me about the poor! Theyre a troublesome, ill-doing set; always grumbling, dirty, ill-natured, suspicious, and envious of the richas if it was our fault that we are rich! I dont want to hear anything more about the poor.
Ruth, who was a soft-cheeked, soft-handed, and soft-hearted girl of eighteen, stood, hat in hand, before her mother with a slight smile on her rosy lips.
You are not quite just to the poor, mother, returned Ruth, scarce able to restrain a laugh at her parents vehemence. Some of them are all that you say, no doubt, but there are many, even among the poorest of the poor, who are good-natured, well-doing, unsuspicious, and respectful, not only to the rich but also to each other and to everybody. There is Mrs Wolsey, for instance, she
Oh! but shes an exception, you know, said Mrs Dotropy, there are not many like Mrs Wolsey.
And there is Mrs Gladman, continued Ruth.
Yes, but shes another exception.
And Mrs Robbie.
Why, Ruth, whats the use of picking out all the exceptions to prove your point? Of course the exception proves the ruleat least so the proverb saysbut a great many exceptions prove nothing that I know of, exceptthat isbut whats the use of arguing, child, youll never be convinced. Come, how much do you want me to give?
Easy-going Mrs Dotropys mind, we need scarcely point out, was of a confused type, and she hated argument. Perhaps, on the whole, it was to the advantage of her friends and kindred that she did so.
I only want you to give a little time, mother, replied Ruth, swinging her hat to and fro, while she looked archly into Mrs Dotropys large, dignified, and sternly-kind countenance, if we may venture on such an expression, I want you to go with me and see