Part 30 (1/2)
The distance to Broadstairs was about two miles, and the walk thither was enlivened by a drunken commentary on the fallacy of human hopes in general on the part of Mr Jones, and a brisk fire of caustic repartee on the part of Master Towler.
A close observer might have noticed that, while these two were pa.s.sing along the beach, at the base of the high cliffs of chalk running between Ramsgate and Broadstairs, two heads were thrust cautiously out of one of the small caverns or recesses which have been made in these cliffs by the action of the waves. The one head bore a striking resemblance to that of Robert Queeker, Esquire, and the other to that of Mr Larks.
How these two came to be together, and to be there, it is not our business to say. Authors are fortunately not bound to account for everything they relate. All that we know is, that Mr Queeker was there in the furtherance, probably, of his secret mission, and that Mr Larks'
missions appeared to be always more or less secret. At all events, there they were together; fellow-students, apparently, of the geology or conchology of that region, if one might judge from the earnest manner in which they stooped and gazed at the sands, and picked up bits of flint or small sh.e.l.ls, over which they held frequent, and, no doubt, learned discussions of an intensely engrossing nature.
It might have been also noticed by a close observer, that these stoopings to pick up specimens, and these stoppages to discuss, invariably occurred when Mr Jones and Master Billy chanced to pause or to look behind them. At last the boat was reached. It lay on the beach not far from the small harbour of Broadstairs, already surrounded by the rising tide. About the same time the geological and conchological studies of Messrs. Queeker and Larks coming to an end, these scientific men betook themselves suddenly to the shelter of a small cave, whence they sat watching, with intense interest, the movements of the man and boy, thus proving themselves gifted with a truly Baconian spirit of general inquiry into simple facts, with a view to future inductions.
”Jump in, Billy,” said Jones, ”and don't wet your feet; I can easily shove her off alone.”
Billy obeyed.
”Hallo! wot have 'ee got here?” he cried, touching a large tarpaulin bag with his foot.
”Only some grub,” answered Jones, putting his shoulder to the bow of the boat.
”And a compa.s.s too!” cried Billy, looking round in surprise.
”Ay, it may come on thick, you know,” said Jones, as the boat's keel grated over the sand.
”I say, stop!” cried Billy; ”you're up to some mischief; come, let me ash.o.r.e.”
Mr Jones made no reply, but continued to push off the boat. Seeing this, the boy leaped overboard, but Jones caught him. For one instant there was a struggle; then poor Billy was lifted in the strong man's arms, and hurled back into the boat. Next moment it was afloat, and Jones leaped inboard. Billy was not to be overcome so easily, however.
He sprang up, and again made a leap over the gunwale, but Jones caught him by the collar, and, after a severe struggle, dragged him into the boat, and gave him a blow on the head with his clenched fist, which stunned him. Then, seizing the oars, he pulled off. After getting well away from the beach he hoisted a small lug-sail, and stood out to sea.
All this was witnessed by the scientific men in the cave through a couple of small pocket-telescopes, which brought the expression of Jones's and Billy's countenances clearly into view. At first Mr Queeker, with poetic fervour, started up, intent on rus.h.i.+ng to the rescue of the oppressed; but Mr Larks, with prosaic hardness of heart, held him forcibly back, and told him to make his mind easy, adding that Mr Jones had no intention of doing the boy any further harm. Whereupon Queeker submitted with a sigh. The two friends then issued from the cave, shook hands, and bade each other goodbye with a laugh--the man with the keen grey eyes following the path that led to Broadstairs, while the lawyer's clerk returned to Ramsgate by the beach.
Meanwhile the sun went down, and the lanterns of the _Goodwin_, the _Gull_, and the _South sandhead_ floating lights went up. The shades of evening fell, and the stars came out--one by one at first; then by twos and threes; at last by bursts of constellations, until the whole heavens glowed with a galaxy of distant worlds. During all this time Mr Jones sat at the helm of his little boat, and held steadily out to sea. The wind being light, he made small progress, but that circ.u.mstance did not seem to trouble him much.
”You'd better have a bit supper, lad,” said Jones in a careless way.
”Of course you're welcome to starve yourself if 'ee choose, but by so doin' you'll only make yourself uncomfortable for nothing. You're in for it now, an' can't help yourself.”
Billy was seated on one of the thwarts, looking very savage, with his right eye nearly closed by the blow which had caused him to succ.u.mb.
”P'r'aps I mayn't be able to help myself,” he replied, ”but I can peach upon _you_, anyhow.”
”So you can, my lad, if you want to spend eight or ten years in limbo,”
retorted Jones, spitting out his quid of tobacco, and supplying its place with a new one. ”You and I are in the same boat, Billy, whether ash.o.r.e or afloat; we sink or swim together.”
No more was said for some time. Jones knew that the boy was in his power, and resolved to bide his time. Billy felt that he had at least the chance of being revenged if he chose to sacrifice himself, so he ”nursed his wrath to keep it warm.”
About an hour afterwards a squall struck the boat, and nearly capsized it; but Jones, who was quite sobered by that time, threw her head quickly into the wind, and Billy, forgetting everything else, leaped up with his wonted activity, loosened the sail, and reefed it. The squall soon pa.s.sed away, and left them almost becalmed, as before.
”That was well done, Billy,” said Jones, in a cheerful tone; ”you'd make a smart sailor, my lad.”
Billy made no reply; and, despite his efforts to the contrary, felt highly flattered. He also felt the pangs of hunger, and, after resisting them for some time, resolved to eat, as it were, under protest. With a reckless, wilful air, therefore, he opened the tarpaulin bag, and helped himself to a large ”hunk” of bread and a piece of cheese. Whereupon Mr Jones smiled grimly, and remarked that there was nothing like grub for giving a man heart--except grog, he added, producing a case-bottle from his pocket and applying it to his mouth.
”Have a pull, lad? No! well, please yourself. I ain't goin' to join the temperance move myself yet,” said Jones, replacing the bottle in his pocket.