Part 18 (1/2)

It happened thus:--

The crew had built for themselves a hut of specially large dimensions, in which they nightly a.s.sembled all together round the fires, of which there were two--one at either end. Some of the men told stories, some sang songs, others played at draughts of amateur construction, and a good many played the easy but essential part of audience.

The noise, of course, was tremendous, but they were used to that, and minded it not. When, however, two of the men began to quarrel over their game, with so much anger as to interrupt all the others, and draw general attention to themselves, the thing became unbearable, and when one called the other ”a liar,” and the other shouted with an oath, ”You're another,” the matter reached a climax.

”Come, come, d.i.c.k Swan and Bob Crow,” cried Grummidge, in a stern voice; ”you stop that. Two liars are too much in this here s.h.i.+p. One is one too many. If you can't keep civil tongues in your heads, we'll pitch you overboard.”

”You mind your own business,” gruffly replied d.i.c.k Swan, who was an irascible man and the aggressor.

”That's just what I'll do,” returned Grummidge, striding up to Swan, seizing him by the collar, and hurling him to the other end of the room, where he lay still, under the impression, apparently, that he had had enough. ”My business,” said Grummidge, ”is to keep order, and I mean to attend to it. Isn't that so, boys?”

”No--yes--no,” replied several voices.

”Who said `No'?” demanded Grummidge.

Every one expected to see Big Swinton step forward, but he did not. His revenge was not to be gratified by mere insubordination. The man who did at last step forward was an insignificant fellow, who had been nicknamed Spitfire, and whose chief characteristics were self-will and ill-nature. He did not lack courage, however, for he boldly faced the angry ruler and defied him. Every one expected to see Spitfire follow d.i.c.k Swan, and in similar fas.h.i.+on, but they were mistaken. They did not yet understand Grummidge.

”Well, Spitfire, what's your objection to my keeping order?” he said, in a voice so gentle that the other took heart.

”My objection,” he said, ”is that when you was appinted capting there was no vote taken. You was stuck up by your own friends, an' that ain't fair, an' I, for one, refuse to knuckle under to 'ee. You may knock me down if you like, for I ain't your match by a long way, but you'll not prove wrong to be right by doin' that.”

”Well spoken, Master Spitfire!” exclaimed a voice from the midst of the crowd that encircled the speakers.

”Well spoken, indeed,” echoed Grummidge, ”and I thank _you_, Master Spitfire, for bringin' this here matter to a head. Now, lads,” he added, turning to the crowd, ”you have bin wrong an' informal, so to speak, in your proceedin's when you appinted me governor o' this here colony. There's a right and a wrong in everything, an' I do believe, from the bottom of my soul, that it's--that it's--that--well, I ain't much of a dab at preaching as _you_ know, but what I would say is this-- it's right to do right, an' it ain't right for to do wrong, so we'll krect this little mistake at once, for I have no wish to rule, bless you! Now then, all what's in favour o' my bein' gov'nor, walk to the end o' the room on my right hand, an' all who wants somebody else to be--Spitfire, for instance--walk over to where d.i.c.k Swan is a-sittin'

enjo'in' of hisself.”

Immediately three-fourths of the crew stepped with alacrity to the right. The remainder went rather slowly to the left. ”The Grummidges has won!” cried Squill, amid hearty laughter.

The ruler himself made no remark whatever, but, seating himself in a corner of the hut, resumed the game which had been interrupted, quite a.s.sured that the game of insubordination was finally finished.

The day following that on which the reign of King Grummidge was established, a new member of considerable interest was added to the colony. Blaze, Stubbs, and Squill chanced to be out that day along the sh.o.r.e. Squill, being in a meditative mood, had fallen behind his comrades. They had travelled further than usual, when the attention of the two in front was attracted by what seemed to them the melancholy howling of a wolf. Getting their bows ready, they advanced with caution, and soon came upon a sad sight--the dead body of a native, beside which crouched a large black dog. At first they thought the dog had killed the man, and were about to shoot it, when Stubbs exclaimed, ”Hold on! don't you see he must have tumbled over the cliff?”

A brief examination satisfied them that the Indian, in pa.s.sing along the top of the cliffs, had fallen over, and that the accident must have been recent, for the body was still fresh. The dog, which appeared to be starving, showed all its formidable teeth when they attempted to go near its dead master. Presently Squill came up.

”Ah, boys,” he said, ”ye don't onderstand the natur' o' the baste--see here.”

Taking a piece of dried fish from his pocket, he went boldly forward and presented it. The dog snapped it greedily and gulped it down. Squill gave him another and another piece; as the fourth offering was presented he patted the animal quietly on its head. The victory was gained. The dog suffered them to bury its master, but for four days it refused to leave his grave. During that time Squill fed it regularly. Then he coaxed it to follow him, and at last it became, under the name of Blackboy, a general favourite, and a loving member of the community.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

HAS REFERENCE TO FOOD AND A GREAT FIGHT.

There is always a certain amount of pleasure to be derived from the tracing of any subject of interest back to its origin. We have already seen how--like a n.o.ble river, which has its fountain-head in some mountain lakelet that would scarcely serve as a was.h.i.+ng-basin for a Cyclops--the grand cod-fis.h.i.+ng industry, which has enriched the world, and found employment for thousands of men for centuries, had its commencement in the crew of the _Water Wagtail_! we shall now show that another great industry, namely, the Newfoundland seal-fishery, had its origin in the same insignificant source.

King Grummidge was walking one morning along the sh.o.r.e of Wagtail Bay, with hands in pockets, hat on back of head, and that easy roll of gait so characteristic of nautical men and royalty. He was evidently troubled in mind, for a frown rested on his brow, and his lips were compressed. It might have been supposed that the cares of state were beginning to tell upon him, but such was not the case: food was the cause of his trouble.

”Fish, fish, fish,” he growled, to Little Stubbs, who was his companion in the walk. ”I'm sick tired o' fish. It's my opinion that if we go on eatin' fish like we've bin doin' since we was cast away here, we will turn into fish, or mermaids, if not somethin' worse. What are ye laughin' at?”

”At the notion o' you turnin' into a _maid_ of any sort,” replied Stubbs.