Part 5 (1/2)
I never saw him angry except when hard pressed by an ill-judging friend to step into a public-house.
”Would you like to see Jack Trawl's son in a ragged s.h.i.+rt, without shoes to his feet, and his daughter a beggar-girl, or something worse? Then don't be asking me, mate, to take a drop of the poisonous stuff. I know what I used to be, and I know what I should be again if I was to listen to you!” he exclaimed. ”Stand out of my way, now! Stand out of my way!
Come along, Peter,” and, grasping my hand with a grip which made my fingers crack, he stumped along the Hard as fast as he could move his timber toe.
It was a pleasure on getting home to find Mary looking bright and cheerful, with her work or books before her, and Nancy busy preparing supper. The old man and I always took our dinner with us--generally a loaf of bread, with a piece of cheese or bacon or fried fish, and sometimes Irish stew in a basin, done up in a cloth, and a stone bottle of water. I remember saying that I was born with a wooden spoon in my mouth, but when I come to reflect what excellent parents I had, and what true friends I found in Tom Swatridge and Nancy, I may say that, after all, it must have been of silver, though perhaps not quite so polished as those found in the mouths of some infants.
Another change in my life was about to occur. We had taken off a gentleman from Gosport. From his way of speaking, we found that he was a foreigner, and he told us that he wanted to be put on board a foreign s.h.i.+p lying at Spithead.
”Is dere any danger?” he asked, looking out across the Channel, and thinking what a long distance he had to go.
”Not a bit, sir,” answered Tom, for the water was as smooth as a mill-pond. There was a light air from the southward, and there was not a cloud in the sky. ”We might cross the Channel to France for that matter, with weather like this.”
”Oh no, no! I only want to get to dat sheep out dere!” cried the foreigner, fancying that we might carry him across against his will.
”Certainly, mounseer; we'll put you aboard in a jiffy as soon as we gets a breeze to help us along,” said Tom.
We pulled round Blockhouse Point, along sh.o.r.e, till we came off Fort Monkton, when opening Stokes Bay, the wind hauling a little to the westward, we made sail and stood for Spithead. A number of vessels were brought up there, and at the Mother-bank, off Ryde, among them a few men-of-war, but mostly merchantmen, outward bound, or lately come in waiting for orders. It was difficult as yet to distinguish the craft the foreigner wanted to be put aboard.
”It won't matter if we have to dodge about a little to find her, mounseer, for one thing's certain: we couldn't have a finer day for a sail,” observed old Tom, as we glided smoothly over the blue water, s.h.i.+ning brightly in the rays of the unclouded sun.
He gave me the helm while he looked out for the foreign s.h.i.+p.
”That's her, I've a notion,” he said at length, pointing to a deep-waisted craft with a raised p.o.o.p and forecastle, and with much greater beam than our own wall-sided merchantmen. ”Keep her away a bit, Peter. Steady! That will do.”
The tide was running to the westward, so that we were some time getting up to the s.h.i.+p.
”You'll be aboard presently, if that is your s.h.i.+p, as I suppose, mounseer,” said Tom.
”Yes, yes; dat is my sheep,” answered the foreigner, fumbling in his pockets, I fancied, for his purse.
He uttered an exclamation of annoyance. ”Ma monie gone! Some villain take it, no doubte. You come aboard de sheep, and I vill give it you, my friend,” he said. ”One half guinea is de charge, eh? I have also letter to write; you take it and I vill give two s.h.i.+llings more.”
”All right, mounseer, I will wait your pleasure, and promise to post your letter,” answered Tom.
As there were several boats alongside, he told me to keep under weigh till he should hail me to come for him, and as he was as active as any man, in spite of his wooden leg, taking the foreigner by the hand, he helped him up on deck. I then hauled the tacks aboard and stood off to a little distance. I waited and waited, watching the s.h.i.+p, and wondering why Tom was so long on board.
The wind at last began to drop, and afraid of being carried to leeward, I was on the point of running up alongside when I heard a fearful roaring thundering sound. A cloud of black smoke rose above the s.h.i.+p, followed by lurid names, which burst out at all her ports; her tall masts were shot into the air, her deck was cast upwards, her sides were rent asunder; and shattered fragments of planks, and of timbers and spars, and blocks, and all sorts of articles from the hold, came flying round me. I instinctively steered away from the danger, and though huge pieces of burning wreck fell hissing into the water on either side, and far beyond where I was, none of any size touched the wherry. For a minute or more I was so confounded by the awful occurrence that I did not think of my old friend. I scarcely knew where I was or what I was doing. The moment I recovered my presence of mind I put the boat about, getting out an oar to help her along, and stood back towards the burning wreck, which appeared for a moment like a vast pyramid of flame rising above the surface, and then suddenly disappeared as the waters closed over the shattered hull.
I stood up, eagerly gazing towards the spot to ascertain if any human beings had survived the dreadful catastrophe, though it seemed to me impossible that a single person could have escaped. One boat alone was afloat with some people in her, but they were sitting on the thwarts or lying at the bottom, not attempting to exert themselves, all more or less injured. The other boats had been dragged down, as the s.h.i.+p sank.
All about were shattered spars and pieces of the deck, and some way off the masts with the yards still fast to them. Here and there was a body floating with the head or a limb torn off. One man was swimming, and I saw another in the distance clinging to a spar, but the former before I could get up to him sank without a cry, and I then steered for the man on the spar, hoping against hope that he might be old Tom. I shouted to him that he might know help was coming, but he did not answer. Meantime boats from the various s.h.i.+ps lying around were approaching. I plied my oar with all my might, fearing that the man I have spoken of might let go his hold and be lost like the other before I could reach him. The nearer I got the more I feared that he was not Tom. His face was blackened, his clothes burnt and torn. Then I saw that he had two legs, and knew for certain that he was not my old friend. Still, of course, I continued on till I got up to the spar, when I tried to help the poor man into my boat, for he was too much hurt to get on board by himself.
But my strength was insufficient for the purpose, and I was afraid of letting go lest he should sink and be lost. There was no small risk also of my being dragged overboard. Still, I did my best, but could get him no higher than the gunwale.
”Well done, youngster! Hold fast, and we'll help you,” I heard a voice sing out, and presently a man-of-war's boat das.h.i.+ng up, two of her crew springing into the wherry quickly hauled the man on board.
”We must take him to our s.h.i.+p, lads, to let the surgeon attend to him,”
said the officer, a master's mate in charge of the man-of-war's boat.
The man was accordingly lifted into her. It appeared to me, from his sad condition, that the surgeon would be unable to do him any good.
”What, did you come out here all by yourself, youngster?” asked the officer.