Part 6 (2/2)

Nancy then began to talk of what we must do to gain our living, and we sat up till late at night discussing our plans. There was the wherry, and I must get a mate, and I should do very well; then we had the house, for we never dreamed that we should not go on living in it, as we were sure Tom would have wished us to do. Nancy was very sanguine as to how she could manage. Her plain, pock-marked face beamed as she spoke of getting three times as much work as before. Short and awkward as was her figure, Nancy had an heroic soul. Mary must continue to attend school, and in time would be able to do something to help also.

We talked on till we almost fell asleep on our seats. The next morning we were up betimes. Nancy got out some black stuff we had worn for mother, a piece of which she fastened round my arm to show respect to old Tom's memory, and after breakfast I hurried out to try and find a mate, that I might lose no time in doing what I could with the wherry.

I had thought of Jim Pulley, a stout strong lad, a year or two older than myself, who, though not very bright, was steady and honest, and I knew that I could trust him; his strength would supply my want of it for certain work we had to do. Jim was the first person I met on the Hard.

I made my offer to him; he at once accepted it.

”To tell the truth, Peter, I was a-coming to say, that if thou hadst not got any one to go in the place of Tom Swatridge, I would help thee till thou art suited for nothing, or if thou wilt find me in bread and cheese I'll be thankful.”

In a few minutes after this Jim and I were plying for hire in the harbour, and we had not long to wait before we got a fare. The first day we did very well, and I gave Jim a quarter of what we took, with which he was perfectly content.

”I wouldn't ask for more, Peter,” he said, ”for thou hast three mouths to feed, and I have only one.”

The next few days we were equally successful; indeed I went home every evening in good spirits as to my prospects. I made enough for all expenses, and could lay by something for the repairs of the wherry.

Though Jim and I were mere boys, while the weather was fine people took our boat as willingly as they did those of grown men. Sometimes we got parties to go off to the _Victory_, at others across to the Victualling Yard, and occasionally up the harbour to Porchester Castle.

We worked early and late, and Jim or I was always on the look-out for a fare.

When I got home at night I had generally a good account to give of the day's proceedings. Now and then I asked Jim in to take a cup of tea, and many a hearty laugh we had at what the ladies and gentlemen we had taken out had said and done. Seeing that we were but boys they fancied that they could talk before us in a way they wouldn't have thought of doing if we had been grown men.

It must not be supposed that we were able to save much, but still I put by something every week for the repairs of the boat I had got enough to give her a fresh coat of paint, which she much wanted, and we agreed that we would haul her up on Sat.u.r.day afternoon for the purpose, so that she would be ready for Monday.

We carried out our intentions, though it took every s.h.i.+lling I had put by, and we lost more than one fare by so doing. But the wherry looked so fresh and gay, that we hoped to make up for it the next week. Jim went to chapel on the Sunday with Mary and Nancy and me, and spent most of the day with us. He was so quiet and una.s.suming that we all liked him much. As we had put plenty of dryers in the paint, and the sun was hot on Sunday, by Monday forenoon we were able to ply as usual. We had taken a fare across to Gosport, when a person, whom we supposed to be a gentleman from his gay waistcoat and chains, and his top-boots, and hat stuck on one side, came down to the beach and told us to take him over to Portsea. We soon guessed by the way he talked that, in spite of his fine clothes, he was not a gentleman.

”I say, you fellow, do you happen to know whereabouts an old chap, one Tom Swatridge, lives?” he asked of Jim.

”He doesn't live anywhere; he's dead,” answered Jim.

”Dead! Dead, do you say?” he exclaimed. ”Who's got his property?”

”He had no property that I knows on,” answered Jim; ”except, maybe--”

”Oh yes, he had; and if the old fellow had lived he would have been the possessor of a good round sum; but, as I am his nephew, that will be mine, and everything else he left behind him, the lawyer, Master Six-and-eightpence, as I call him, tells me.”

All this time I had not liked to say anything, but the last remark made me feel very uncomfortable. The speaker presently took a letter out of his pocket, and, reading it, said, ”Ah! I see Mr Gull is the man I've got to go to. Can you show me where Mr Gull, the attorney, lives?” he asked of Jim; ”he'll settle up this matter.”

Jim made no answer, for we were getting near the sh.o.r.e, and had to keep out of the way of two craft coming up the harbour. We soon ran up to the Hard, when the man, stepping out, offered Jim a sixpence.

”A s.h.i.+lling's the fare, sir,” said Jim, keeping back his hand.

”No, no, you young rascal! I know better; but I'll give you another sixpence if you will show me the way to Mr Gull's.”

”You may find it by yourself,” answered Jim, indignantly, as he picked up the sixpence thrown to him by our fare, who walked off.

”Half a loaf is better than no bread, Peter, so it's as well not to lose the sixpence,” said Jim, laughing. ”But no gentleman would have offered less than a s.h.i.+lling. I wonder whether he really is old Tom's nephew?”

CHAPTER SIX.

TURNED OUT OF HOUSE AND HOME.

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