Part 9 (1/2)
Again thanking Mr Gray from the bottom of my heart, I said, ”What I want, sir, is work. Help me to get that, and it will be all I ask.”
Before going away Mr Gray saw Mary for a short time, and paid a long visit to poor Mrs Simmons, which she said did her heart good.
I had never felt so happy in my life, and could not resist going out to tell Jim Pulley.
”Ask him to set thee up with a wherry and we'll go out together again as we used to do. That will be fine, and we'll be as merry as two crickets!” he exclaimed.
”I think I ought to leave it with him,” I answered. ”A wherry costs a lot of money, and he has already been very generous, though I should like him to do as you propose, and I promise you, Jim, whatever he proposes, to stick by you.”
”That's all I care for,” answered my friend.
He accompanied me to the door, but would not come in for fear of disturbing Mary.
The next day I went to see Mr Gray, who lived in a pretty house some way out of Portsmouth. He and his daughters received me very kindly.
He had, he said, been considering what he could do for me. He would obtain a wherry for me, but he considered that the life of a waterman was not suited to a lad like me, and he then said that he was a s.h.i.+powner, and was about to despatch a brig in a few days to the coast of Norway for timber, and that, if I pleased, he would send me on board her as an apprentice. Also, as he considered that I was already a seaman, he would give me a trifle of pay. Remembering what my father used to say about not wis.h.i.+ng Jack ”to become a long-sh.o.r.e lubber,” I at once replied that I would thankfully have accepted his offer, but that I could not desert Jim Pulley, who would well-nigh break his heart, if I were to go away without him.
”Nor need thee do that, my son,” he answered. ”I will provide a berth also for thy friend on board the _Good Intent_, and he and thou need not be parted. I approve of thy constancy to him and of his faithfulness to thee. A long-sh.o.r.e life, such as thou wouldst lead if thou wast owner of a wherry, would be dangerous if not demoralising, albeit thou might live comfortably enough.”
”But, sir, what will my sister do without me when she recovers and leaves you, and where will Nancy go when the widow dies?”
”I will be chargeable for both of them. Set thy mind at rest on that point. Should I be called away--and no man knows how long he has to live--I will direct my daughters to watch over them. Thou and thy friend Jim can, in the meantime, follow thy vocation of watermen, so that thou mayest eat the fruit of thy labours, which is sweeter far to brave hearts like thine than food, bestowed in charity.”
I did my best to thank Mr Gray as I ought, and hastened back to tell Mary and Nancy and Jim.
”I'd have gone with thee, Peter, even if it had been to Botany Bay, or any of them outlandish parts,” exclaimed Jim, when I told him what Mr Gray had promised. ”I am glad; yes, I am glad!”
We both tried at once to get employment, and did very well that afternoon and on the two following days.
When I got home on the evening of the last I found that a message had been left by Mr Gray when he visited the widow and Mary, directing Jim and me to go the next morning at nine o'clock on board the _Good Intent_, which had just come into the Commercial Dock. I hastened off to tell Jim at once. As may be supposed, we were up betimes, and as we got to the dock before the hour appointed we were able to examine the _Good Intent_ at our leisure. She was a fair enough looking craft, but as she was deep in the water, having only just begun to discharge a cargo of coals brought from the north, and had a dingy appearance, from the black dust flying about, we could not judge of her properly.
As the bells of Saint Thomas's Church began to strike nine we stepped on board, and directly afterwards Mr Gray, followed by a short, broad, oldish man, who had not a bit the look of a skipper, though such I guessed he was, came out of the cabin.
”Right! Punctuality saves precious hours,” said Mr Gray, with an approving nod. ”These are the lads I desire to commit to thy care, Captain Finlay. Instruct them in their duties, so that they may become able seamen, and they will repay thy teaching.”
”I'll act justly by the laddies, Mr Gray, but there's an auld saying that 'ye canna make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.' If they dinna keep their wits awake, or if they ha' na wits to keep awake, all the teaching in the world will na make them sailors.”
”They are fair sailors already, and thou wilt find them handy enough, I hope,” observed Mr Gray.
After putting a few questions, Captain Finlay told us to come aboard the next day but one with our bags, by which time the cargo would be discharged. We set off home greatly pleased, though puzzled to know how we should obtain a decent kit. With Nancy's help, I might be pretty well off, but poor Jim had scarcely a rag to his back besides the clothes he stood in. In the evening, however, a note came from Mr Gray with an order on an outfitter to give us each a complete kit suited to a cold climate. We were not slow to avail ourselves of it. The next day Dr Rolt considered Mary sufficiently well to be removed, and Mr Gray sent a closed carriage to convey her to his house. The doctor told me to be ready to accompany her, and kindly came himself. It was the first time I had ever been in a coach, and the rolling and pitching made me feel very queer. The young ladies received us as if we had been one of themselves, and Mary was carried up into a pretty, neat room, with white dimity curtains to the bed, and the fresh air blowing in at the open window.
”I'll leave her to you, now, Miss Hannah,” said the doctor. ”This is all she requires, with your watchful care.”
After I had had a short talk with Mary alone I took my leave, and Miss Hannah told me to be sure to come back and see them before the _Good Intent_ sailed. It was not likely I should forget to do that.
Jim and I now went to live on board the brig. We had plenty of work, cleaning out the hold and getting rid of the coal-dust, and then we scrubbed the deck, and blacked down the rigging, and painted the bulwarks and masts, till the change in the appearance of the dingy collier was like that of a scullery-maid when she puts on her Sunday best. We did not mind the hard work, though it was a good deal harder than any we had been accustomed to, but the master and the rest of the crew set us a good example. There was little grumbling, and what surprised me, no swearing, such as I had been accustomed to hear on the Hard. Captain Finlay would not allow it, and the mate supported him in checking any wrong expressions which some of the men had been in the habit of uttering.
I got leave to run up and see Mary and to bid Nancy and Mrs Simmons good-bye. Miss Hannah and her sisters seemed to be making a great deal of Mary. It was evident they liked her much, and I was not surprised at that. The widow I never expected to see again. Nancy would scarcely let me go.
”Oh, Peter, Peter! What should us do if anything was to happen to ye out on the cruel sea!” she cried, as she held my hand and rubbed her eyes with her ap.r.o.n.