Read Ebook: Menhardoc by Fenn George Manville Staniland Charles Joseph Illustrator

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Ebook has 3527 lines and 100117 words, and 71 pages

The men looked helplessly from one to the other as they lifted their eyes from the blackened countenance that one of the lighter's men was supporting on his arm. No one seemed to know what would be best to do, and a couple were ordered into the boat to row ashore for the doctor.

"Why don't you take off them gashly things?" cried Josh, who had now helped Will to the deck, where he stood holding on by a stay, trembling in every limb.

Two men immediately began to take off the heavy india-rubber diving suit, with its copper collar and heavy leaden-soled boots, with the result that when the poor fellow was freed from these encumbrances and once more laid upon the dock, the lifting and moving he had received proved so far beneficial that he uttered a low sigh, and the purple tinge began to die out from his face.

"He's a coming to!" said the skipper eagerly; and his words proved to be right, for at the end of half an hour the poor fellow had recovered consciousness, and was able to say that his life-line had become hitched round a mass of rock, to which was attached some very long grown strands of sea-weed, and these had been swept by the water right over the line. Then when he had tried to free it his hands only came in contact with the loose slimy wrack, and after a trial or two he had become confused and excited.

"And you know I've allus told you as a diver should be as cool as a cucumber," said his chief.

"Yes, I know all about that," said the diver huskily, "and so I meant to be; but when you're shut-up in one o' them soots and are down in three or four fathom o' water, and thinking your life-line's fast, you don't seem as if you could be cool, mate."

"But you ought to be," said the chief severely; "and now, all along o' your getting in a flurry, here's the newest helmet with a great dent in the neck, so as it won't screw down on the collar, and I shall have to pay damages out o' my wage."

"Better than having to pay to keep my wife and weans," said the diver huskily; "and now I want to have a look at that young chap as dived and set free the line."

"Here he be!" cried Josh eagerly, hauling at Will's arm; "here he be, lad. Ain't much of a chap to have done it, be he?"

Josh laughed, and gave Will a thrust forward, much to the lad's discomfort, for there was a low murmur of admiration from the little group around.

"Oh, it's nothing to make such a fuss about!" said Will, whose cheeks were burning now, as he stood there with the sea-water slowly soaking from his clothes, and making a little puddle on the deck.

"No!" said the diver huskily; "it's nothing to make a fuss about; only one man saving another man's life, when nobody else knew what to do!"

"Oh, it was an accident!" said Will kindly; "and they hadn't time to think."

"Yes," said the diver, looking softly up at Will; "an accident, my lad, and nothing to make a fuss about; but there's some one at home as would have made a fuss about it, and you've done more than save me, my lad; you've saved a poor woman from a broken heart, and six bairns from wanting charity; that's all. Let's shake hands!"

He held out his hand to Will in the midst of a strange silence, and held that of the young man with a very strong grip, before sinking back with his head upon a ship's fender, and closing his eyes.

"He arn't a bad sort of chap," said Josh softly, as Will drew back; "but I don't hold with a fellow, even if he have just been drowned, coming to life again and calling a boy like you a man. You're wain enough as it is, and you've no call to be. So come along ashore, and get home and change them wet clothes."

Will said a word to the chief of the divers about where the lead weights lay, and then stepped over the side to Josh, who was already in the lugger's boat, without letting any one know that he was going.

Josh thrust off the boat, let his oar fall with a splash, and Will followed his example; but they were not a dozen yards from the lighter before they were missed, and divers and crew rushed to the side and gave a tremendous cheer.

"Here, come back!" cried the skipper; "come back!"

"Arn't got time," roared Josh, frowning; and then, as the men cheered again: "Well, of all the gashly fuss as was ever made this is about the worst! Pull hard, my lad, and let's get out of it. I want to go home."

"And I want to get warm, Josh," said Will laughing. "I'm glad that poor fellow came round before we left."

"Well, I dunno," said Josh, sourly. "Of course you liked it because he called you a man. He ought to have knowed better, at his time o' life. Lor', Will, what a gashly peacock of a chap you would grow if it warn't for me."

PILCHAR' WILL AND THE OLD FOLKS AT HOME.

"Been overboard again? Well, I never did see such a boy in my life; never!"

"What's the matter, Ruth?"

"Matter enough!" came in the same strident voice, in answer to the hoarse gruff inquiry. "There, who spoke to you? Just you get back to your work; and if that pie's burnt again to-day you'll have to leave!"

This last was to a heavy-faced simple-looking girl, who, on hearing her mistress's angry voice, had hurried into the passage of Nor'-nor'-west Cottage, Cliftside, and stood in front of the kitchen door, with one end of her apron in her mouth.

Amanda Trevor, commonly called Betsey, stepped back into the kitchen, just catching the word "dripping" as she closed the door--a word that excited her curiosity again, but she dared not try to gratify it; and if she had tried she would only have been disappointed on finding that it related to a few drops of water from Will Marion's clothes.

"I said--heave ho, there! what's the matter?" was heard again; and this time a very red-faced grey-haired man, with the lower part of his features framed in white bristles, and clad in a blue pea-jacket and buff waistcoat, ornamented with gilt anchor buttons, stood suddenly in the doorway on the right, smoking solemnly a long churchwarden clay pipe, rilling his mouth very full of smoke, and then aggravating the looker-on by puzzling him as to where the smoke would come from next-- for sometimes he sent a puff out of one corner of his mouth, sometimes out of the other. Then it would come from a little hole right in the middle, out of which he had taken the waxed pipe stem, but only for him perhaps to press one side of his nose with the pipe, and send the rest out of the left nostril, saving perhaps a little to drive from the right. The result of practice, for the old man had smoked a great deal.

"Collision?" said Abram Marion, ex-purser and pensioner of the British navy.

"No," said Mrs Ruth Marion, his little thin acid wife. "Overboard again, and he's dripping all over the place. It isn't long since he had those clothes."

"Six months," said the old purser, sending a couple of jets of tobacco smoke from his nostrils at once.

"Yes; and what with his growing so horribly, and the common stuff they sell for cloth now, shrinking so shamefully, he's always wanting clothes."

"Oh, these will last a long time yet, aunt!" said Will.

"No, they will not last a long time yet, Will!" cried the little lady, with her face all trouble wrinkles.

"But he don't mind a word I say," cried the little woman, wringing her hands. "Wringing wet! just look at him!"

"Been fishing, my lass; and they brought home a fair haul," said the purser, throwing back his head, and shooting smoke at a fly on the ceiling.

"What's the use of his bringing home fair hauls if he destroys his clothes as he does; and the holes he makes in his stockings are shameful."

"Can't help getting wet at sea," said the ex-purser, solemnly spreading a good mouthful of smoke in a semicircle. "Water's wet, specially salt-water. Here, you, sir! how dare you make holes in your stockings for your aunt to mend? I don't believe your father ever dared to do such a thing in his life."

"It don't matter, Abram," said the old lady in a lachrymose whine; "it's my fate to toil, and I'm not long for this world, so it don't matter. It was my fate to be a toiler; and those clothes of his will be too small for him to wear when they're dry. I don't know what I'm to do."

"Stretch 'em," said the old gentleman, sending a cloud into his waistcoat.

"But they won't stretch," cried the old lady peevishly.

"Put 'em away and save 'em," said the old man. "I may adopt another nevvy--smaller size,"--and here there was a veil spread over his face by his projecting his lower lip and sending the smoke up into his eyes.

"If you ever did such a thing again, I'd have a divorce," cried the old lady sharply. "You go and change your things, sir, and then get a book till dinner's ready."

The old lady stepped into the parlour, and the old purser was in the act of winking solemnly at his nephew when Mrs Marion reappeared.

"Ah, I saw!" she cried. "You are encouraging this boy, Abram. Here; Betsey, bring your flannel and wipe up this mess. And you, go in directly and change your things."

The old lady disappeared again, and the wrinkles stood all over the old purser's face as he growled softly between fancy puffs of smoke.

"Yes, uncle," said Will quietly.

The way in which the ex-purser distributed his tobacco smoke during this oracular lecture to his brother's orphan son was something astounding; and he had smoked so heavily that it seemed at last as if he were trying to veil himself from the lad's gaze lest he should see the weakness exhibited with regard to Mrs Marion's rule; while he kept glancing uneasily at the lad, as if feeling that he was read by heart.

"All right, uncle, I understand," said Will, turning to go.

"Oh yes, uncle, we know."

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