Part 14 (1/2)

He went home and told his wife. She made his bed on the roof of the four-poster, and widders.h.i.+ns, as he ordered; and they slept that night, the wife as usual, and Joby up close to the rafters.

But scarcely had Joby closed an eye before there came a rousing knock at the door, and in walked Joby's eldest brother, the sea-captain, that he hadn't seen for years.

”Get up, Joby, and come along with me if you want that eye of yours mended.”

”Thank you, Sam, it's curin' very easy and nice, and I hope you won't disturb me.”

”If 'tis Tommy Warne's cure you're trying, why then I'm part of it; so you'd best get up quickly.”

”Aw, that's another matter, though you might have said so at first.

I'd no notion you and Tommy was hand-'n-glove.”

Joby rose up and followed his brother out of doors. He had nothing on but his night-s.h.i.+rt, but his brother seemed in a hurry, and he didn't like to object.

They set their faces to the road and they walked and walked, neither saying a word, till they came to Penryn. There was a fair going on in the town; swing-boats and shooting-galleries and lillybanger standings, and naphtha lamps flaming, and in the middle of all, a great whirly-go-round, with striped horses and boats, and a steam-organ playing ”Yankee Doodle.” As soon as they started Joby saw that the whole thing was going around widders.h.i.+ns; and his brother stood up under the naphtha-lamp and pulled out a s.e.xtant and began to take observations.

”What's the lat.i.tude?” asked Joby. He felt that he ought to say something to his brother, after being parted all these years.

”Decimal nothing to speak of,” answered Sam.

”Then we ought to be nearing the Line,” said Joby. He hadn't noticed the change, but now he saw that the boat they sat in was floating on the sea, and that Sam had stuck his walking-stick out over the stern and was steering.

”What's the longitude?” asked Joby.

”That doesn't concern us.”

”'Tis west o' Grinnidge, I suppose?” Joby knew very little about navigation, and wanted to make the most of it.

”West o' Penryn,” said Sam, very sharp and short. ”'Twasn' Grinnidge Fair we started from.”

But presently he sings out ”Here we are!” and Joby saw a white line, like a popping-crease, painted across the blue sea ahead of them.

First he thought 'twas paint, and then he thought 'twas catgut, for when the keel of their boat sc.r.a.ped over it, it sang like a bird.

”That was the Equator,” said Sam. ”Now let's see if your eyes be any better.”

But when Joby tried them, what was his disappointment to find the cast as bad as ever?--only now they were slewing right the other way, towards the South Pole.

”I never thought well of this cure from the first,” declared Sam.

”For my part, I'm sick and tired of the whole business!” And with that he bounced up from the thwart and hailed a pa.s.sing shark and walked down its throat in a huff, leaving Joby all alone on the wide sea.

”There's nice brotherly behaviour for you!” said Joby to himself.

”Lucky he left his walking-stick behind. The best thing I can do is to steer along close to the Equator, and then I know where I am.”

So he steered along close to the Line, and by and by he saw something s.h.i.+ning in the distance. When he came nearer, 'twas a great gilt fowl stuck there with its beak to the Line and its wings sprawled out. And when he came close, 'twas no other than the c.o.c.k belonging to the tower of his own parish church of Wendron!

”Well!” said Joby, ”one has to travel to find out how small the world is. And what might you be doin' here, naybour?”

”Is that you, Joby Teague? Then I'll thank you to do me a good turn.

I came here in a witch-s.h.i.+p last night, and the crew put this spell upon me because I wouldn't pay my footing to cross the Line.

A nice lot, to try and steal the gilt off a church weather-c.o.c.k!