The Lifeboat - Robert Michael Ballantyne (best short books to read TXT) 📗

words for continued favour.

Bluenose was a man of peculiar and decided character. He did not at all relish his position in the drawing-room when he thought of his sister Mrs Laker supping in the kitchen. Being an impulsive man, he seized his cap, and said abruptly to his hostess:

"I'll tell 'ee wot it is, marm, I aint used to this 'ere sort o' thing. If you'll excudge me, marm, I'll go an' 'ave my snack with Bess i' the kitchen. Bax, there, he's a sort o' gen'leman by natur' as well as hedication; but as for me I'm free to say as I prefers the fo'gs'l to the cabin--no offence meant. Come along, Tommy, and bring yer pannikin along with 'ee, lad, you're like a fish out o' water too."

So saying, Captain Bluenose bowed to the company with what he meant to be an affable and apologetic air, and quitted the room without waiting for a reply.

"Ah, Bluenose," said Mrs Laker, as her brother entered, cap in hand, and seated himself among the men of the "Nancy," who were doing full justice to Mrs Foster's hospitality, "I thought ye wouldn't be long in the parlour, for you aint bin used to 'igh life, an' w'y should you? as was born of poor but respectible parients, not but that the parients of the rich may be respectible also, I don't go for to impinge no one, sit down, Tommy, my dear child, only think! ee's bin 'alf drownded, an' 'is mother dead only two year next Whitsuntide; sit down, Tommy, wot'll ye 'ave?"

Tommy said he would have a bit of beef-steak pie;--got it, and set to work immediately.

It may be as well to state here that Mrs Laker was not a married woman, but, having reached a certain age, she deemed it advisable, in order to maintain the dignity of her character and personal appearance (which latter was stout and matronly) to dub herself Mrs--Laker being her maiden name. This statement involves a further explanation, inasmuch as it establishes the fact that Bluenose ought, in simple justice and propriety, to have gone by the name of Laker also.

But on the beach of Deal justice and propriety in regard to names are not necessarily held in great repute. At least they were not so a few years ago. Smuggling, as has been said, was rather prevalent in days gone by. Indeed, the man who was not a smuggler was an exception to the rule, if such a man ever existed. During their night expeditions, boatmen were often under the necessity of addressing each other in hoarse whispers, at times and in circumstances when coast-guard ears were uncommonly acute. Hence, in order to prevent inconvenient recognition, the men were wont to give each other nicknames, which nicknames descended frequently to their offspring.

The father of Captain Bluenose and of Mrs Laker had been a notorious scamp about the beginning of this century, at which period Deal may be said to have been in full swing in regard to smuggling and the French war. The old smuggler was uncommonly well acquainted with the towns of Calais, Gravelines, Dunkerque, Nieuport, and Ostende--notwithstanding that they lay in the enemy's country. He had also enough of bad French to enable him to carry on his business, and was addicted to French brandy. It was the latter circumstance which turned his nose purple; procuring for him, as well as entailing on his son, the name of Bluenose, a name which our Captain certainly did not deserve, seeing that his nose was fiery red in colour,--perhaps a little too fat to be styled classic, but, on the whole, a most respectable nose.

Few of the boatmen of Deal went by their right names; but such soubriquets as Doey, Jack Onion, Skys'lyard Dick, Mackerel, Trappy, Rodney Nick, Sugarplum, etcetera, were common enough. Perchance they are not obsolete at the present day!

While the crew of the "Nancy" were making merry in the kitchen, the parlour bell rang violently, and Laker disappeared from the scene.

"You're wanted, Tommy, darling," said the worthy woman, returning promptly.

Tommy rose and was ushered into the parlour.

"Little boy," said Mrs Foster, "my son Guy has sent a message requiring your attendance. I tried to prevent him seeing you; but he insists on it. Come, I will take you to his room. You must try, child, and not encourage him to talk. It will be bad for him, I fear."

"Leave us, mother, dear," said Guy, as they entered; "I wish to be alone with Tommy, only for ten minutes--not longer."

Mrs Foster tried to remonstrate, but an impatient gesture from her son induced her to quit the room.

"You can write, Tommy?"

"Yes, sir. I--I hope you ain't much hurt, sir?"

"Oh no!--a mere scratch. It's only the loss of blood that weakens me. I'll be all right in a few days. Now, sit down at that table and take a pen. Are you ready?"

Tommy said that he was, and Guy Foster dictated the following note to Mr Denham, of the house of Denham, Crumps, and Company:--

"Deal.

"Dear Uncle,--I'm sorry to have to inform you that the `Nancy' has become a total wreck on the Goodwin Sands. The cargo has been entirely lost--also two of the hands.

"I am at present disabled, from the effects of a blow on the head received during the storm. No doubt Bax will be up immediately to give you particulars.

"The cause of the loss of your schooner was, in _my_ opinion, _unseaworthiness of vessel and stores_.

"Your affectionate nephew, GUY FOSTER."

"Hallo!" thought Tommy, "that's a stinger!"

"There," said Guy, as he attached his signature, "fold and address that, and be off with it as fast as you can to the post."

Tommy vanished in an instant, and was quickly at the post-office, which stood, at that time, near the centre of the town. He dropped the letter in, and having thus fulfilled his mission, relapsed into that easy swagger or roll that seems to be the natural and characteristic gait of Jack when ashore. He had not proceeded far when the sound of voices in dispute attracted his ear. The gale was still at its height, and the noise occasioned by its whistling among the chimneys and whirling round street corners was so great that the words uttered by the speakers were not distinguishable. Still there was some peculiarity in the tone which irresistibly attracted the boy. Perhaps Tommy was unusually curious that night; perhaps he was smitten, like Haroun Alraschid, with a desire for adventure; but whatever was the truth in regard to this, it is certain that, instead of passing on, as most people would naturally have done, Tommy approached the place whence the sounds proceeded with cautious steps--keeping as much in the shade of the houses as possible, although owing to the darkness of the night, this latter precaution was unnecessary.


CHAPTER EIGHT.


THE LIVING LEFT AMONG THE DEAD--A WILD CHASE ON A WILD NIGHT STOPPED BY A GHOST.

On turning the corner of one of those houses on the beach of Deal which stand so close to the sea that in many cases they occupy common ground with the boats, Tommy found himself suddenly close to a group of men, one of whom, a very tall man, was addressing the others in an excited tone.

"I'll tell 'ee wot it is, lads, let's put 'im in a sack an' leave him in the Great Chapel Field to cool hisself." [The "Great Chapel Field" was the name formerly applied by the boatmen to Saint George's Churchyard.]

"Sarve him right, the beggar," said another man, with a low laugh, "he's spoilt our game many a night. What say, boys? heave 'im shoulder high?"

The proposal was unanimously agreed to, and the party went towards an object which lay recumbent on the ground, near to one of those large capstans which are used on this part of the Kentish coast to haul up the boats. The object turned out to be a man, bound hand and foot, and with a handkerchief tied round the mouth to insure silence. Tommy was so near that he had no difficulty in recognising in this unfortunate the person of old Coleman, the member of the coast-guard who had been most successful in thwarting the plans of the smugglers for some years past. Rendered somewhat desperate by his prying disposition, they had seized him on this particular night, during a scuffle, and were now about to dispose of him in a time-honoured way.

Tommy also discovered that the coast-guard-man's captors were Long Orrick, Rodney Nick, and a few more of his boatmen acquaintances. He watched them with much interest as they enveloped Coleman's burly figure in a huge sack, tied it over his head, and, raising him on their shoulders bore him away.

Tommy followed at a safe distance, but he soon stopped, observing that two of the party had fallen behind the rest, engaged apparently in earnest conversation. They stood still a few minutes under the lee of a low-roofed cottage. Tommy crept as close to them as possible and listened.

"Come, Rodney Nick," said one of the two, whose height proclaimed him to be Long Orrick, "a feller can't talk in the teeth o' sich a gale as this. Let's stand in the lee o' this old place here, and I'll tell ye in two minits wot I wants to do. You see that old sinner Jeph refuses pint-blank to let me use his `hide;' he's become such a hypocrite that he says he won't encourage smugglin'."

"Well, wot then?" inquired Rodney Nick.

"W'y, I means to _make_ 'im give in," returned Long Orrick.

"An' s'pose he won't give in?" suggested Rodney.

"Then I'll cut his throat," replied Orrick, fiercely.

"Then I'll have nothin' to do with it."

"Stop!" cried the other, seizing his comrade by the arm as he was turning to go away. "A feller might as well try to joke with a jackass as with you. In coorse I don't mean _that_; but I'll threaten the old hypocrite and terrify him till he's half dead, and _then_ he'll give in."

"He's a frail old man," said Rodney; "suppose he should die with fright?"

"Then let him die!" retorted Long Orrick.

"Humph; and s'pose he can't be terrified?"

"Oh! get along with yer s'posin'. Will ye go or will ye not? that's the question, as Shukspere's ghost said to the Hemperer o' Sweden."

"Just you an' me?" inquired Rodney.

"Ain't we enough for an old man?"

"More nor enough," replied Rodney, with a touch of sarcasm in his tone, "if the old boy han't got friends with him. Don't ye think Bax might have took a fancy to spend the night there?"

"No," said Long Orrick; "Bax is at supper in Sandhill Cottage, and _he_ ain't the man to leave good quarters in a hurry. But if yer afraid, we'll go with our chums to the churchyard and take them along with us."

Rodney Nick laughed contemptuously, but made no reply, and the two immediately set off at a run to overtake their comrades. Tommy Bogey followed as close at their heels as he prudently could. They reached the walls of Saint George's Church, or the "Great Chapel,"