[1][See Little Folks, Vol. XVIII., page 291.]
[1][See Little Folks, Vol. XVIII., page 291.]
SUMMER VISITORS.Ifed the birds in the winter,And so in the summer, you see,They flew through my open window,And stayed for a cup of tea.They little thought I was looking, the dear little feathered things,As they hovered o'er cups and saucers, and fluttered their pretty wings.For I was standing on tip-toe,In hiding behind the screen,And a livelier chirpier party,I think I have never seen.The air was sweet with the summer, the window stood open wide,My room was a garden of flowers, and lime-trees blossomed outside.So the old birds paid me a visit,And the young birds came in their train,For they took my room, with its nosegays,For part of their own domain;While they sipped the cream in my teacups, and daintily pecked my cake,And called to their friends and neighbours, that each and all might partake.But just as I stood there watching,Enjoying their chorus gay,My cat stole in from the kitchen,And all of them flew away—With wings that fluttered and quivered, they chirped to another tune,As they flew away through the garden that beautiful day in June.A. M.
I
fed the birds in the winter,And so in the summer, you see,They flew through my open window,And stayed for a cup of tea.They little thought I was looking, the dear little feathered things,As they hovered o'er cups and saucers, and fluttered their pretty wings.For I was standing on tip-toe,In hiding behind the screen,And a livelier chirpier party,I think I have never seen.The air was sweet with the summer, the window stood open wide,My room was a garden of flowers, and lime-trees blossomed outside.So the old birds paid me a visit,And the young birds came in their train,For they took my room, with its nosegays,For part of their own domain;While they sipped the cream in my teacups, and daintily pecked my cake,And called to their friends and neighbours, that each and all might partake.But just as I stood there watching,Enjoying their chorus gay,My cat stole in from the kitchen,And all of them flew away—With wings that fluttered and quivered, they chirped to another tune,As they flew away through the garden that beautiful day in June.
A. M.
Illustration: 'SUMMER VISITORS'"summer visitors."(p. 140)
Wemention this game—which we believe has never appeared in print—because not only many may take part, but like really good games, amusement and perhaps some instruction are derived in playing it; and any number may play atthe same time. Let us suppose that ten children decide to play this game of "Names." Each player is provided with a long strip of paper and a pencil, and if one of the players has a watch so much the better; if not a clock must be used. One commences by calling out: "Girls' names commencing with A, two minutes allowed." Each player then writes down all the girls' names that he (or she) can recollect that commence with A, and at the expiration of the two minutes, "time" is called. Then the oldest player reads from his (or her) slip all the names he or she has written down. Say, Amy, Amabel, Alice, Ann, Annie, Amanda, Aileen, &c. All the other players, as the names are read out, cancel any name read out. If, for instance, all have written Amy, all cancel Amy, and count one mark. Say six players have Amabel, and four have not, each of the six count one mark; those who have not thought and written down Amabel get nothing for Amabel, and so on through the list. The object of the game is to teach the children all girls' and boys' names. When the marks have been allotted for all the names, the total of marks are read out and noted on each slip. The players then proceed in a similar manner for all boys' names commencing with A, such as Alfred, Abel, Adam, Andrew, Arthur, &c. The game can be continued till all the letters in the alphabet are exhausted, but practically young players rarely care to "do" more than thirty sets or fifteen letters consecutively. Various names crop up, and the memory is well exercised, and children generally vote it great fun. Any one introducing pet or fancy names, such as Pussy, Kit, Teddy, &c., forfeits two marks, unless it be arranged that they will be allowed.
By the Rev.J. Clement P. Aldous,Chief Instructor and Chaplain to Cadets.
TheBritanniais the training-school for naval officers. All boys who are to be fighting officers in the British Navy go to theBritannia. They enter when they are about thirteen, and stay there two years, and from this ship they go as midshipmen to our ships in all parts of the world. We are going to pay a visit to theBritannia, and see how these young naval cadets spend their day.
If we want to see the whole day through, we must start early. So we will take a boat and go off from the shore at five o'clock in the morning of a fine summer day. It is only a row of some 200 yards to reach theBritanniafrom the shore. She is anchored in the middle of the River Dart or Dartmouth Harbour.
Have you ever seen one of England's old wooden walls—a three decker? How high she stands out of the water! If you will look at the picture you will see that there are quite six storeys to this great floating house. As you come up to the ship's side in a boat, she towers above you like a great cliff—a wooden wall—you can see what these words mean now.
Let us step up the ladder; they will be surprised to see us so early. The sentry on the middle deck wishes to know our business. "We have come to seeeverything," we say, and show our authority for coming.
So we go up a ladder—not a staircase, mind!—to the sleeping deck. There we see two long rows of chests, which represent the wardrobe, chest of drawers, washing place, private locker, every piece of furniture, in fact, which a naval cadet possesses.
Over these hang the hammocks, each the sleeping-place of a cadet. A hammock is such a funny thing to sleep in. I dare say you have a string hammock on your lawn, in which you sometimes lie on a very hot summer's afternoon. But it is a queer bed to sleep in, for your head and your heelsare both of them stuck up in the air, while your body hangs underneath in a graceful curve.
Illustration: Hammocks On Board The Britanniahammocks on board thebritannia
Half past five is struck, or ratherthree bells, for man-of-war time goes by half-hours till eight bells are reached at noon and midnight, four and eight o'clock, when it starts again. Three bells! a corporal walks along and picks out here and there some unfortunate boy who has been misconducting himself the day before—perhaps he was late or idle—and he has to "turn out" an hour before the others and stand up till they join him. A wretched beginning of a day, especially on a winter's morning—to stand shivering on an open deck, while all his comrades are peacefully tucked up in their warm hammocks. I think if you knew you would get this punishment, my little friend, you would take good pains to be in time.
As we walk round the hammocks we now see the servants busy placing the cadets' clothes on their chests, ready for them to dress. There is a servant to about ten boys.
By-and-by five bells is struck, half past six, and a bugle rings out a merry peal, on the middle deck. It is theturn-outbugle, and you can play it on the piano:—
Music to turn-out
In a few moments we hear the same bugle-call, far away. The bugler is gone off to theHindostan, and he is giving the sound for the other boys to turn out.
We only saw half the cadets in their hammocks in theBritannia. If you will look at the picture onpage 145you will see another smaller ship, theHindostan, moored ahead of theBritannia. The younger boys sleep in "the other ship," as it is called.
What a merry noise there is, as the cadets bound out of their hammocks, and rush off to the big salt-water bath, which is fitted in either ship! I am glad we are only describing a visit, for were we looking on we should get drenched from head to foot.
The corporals walk about among the hammocks to see that all the young gentlemen are turned out.
"Show a leg there, sir! Come along, come along now, now, now, bugle's gone long ago, sir," as he finds some sleepy youth, not at all willing to show a leg. "Make a start, sir."
Basins are fitted up along the deck for them. They need not use the basins in their chests. These must be used at sea when the weather is not rough enough to dash the water out over the clothes.
At five minutes past seven a warning bugle is heard, to warn them that in ten minutes they must be dressed and ready. Some are kneeling at their chests, beginning the morning with prayer for help to live as in God's sight all the day. Some are hurrying on their clothes. Some are reading the Bible, a few verses, as they have promised their people at home never to omit to do.
At a quarter past seven rings out another bugle-call.
Music to assembly
This meansassembly, and the cadets all troop down to the middle deck, where they form in line, two deep, all along the deck; the port watch in the fore part of the ship, and the starboard watch farther aft. This division into two parts, starboard watch and port watch, is to accustomthem to the idea of the whole ship's company being always divided into two watches.
The cadet captains stand in front of the two lines, the chief captains one at the end of each watch. These are cadets chosen as "monitors" to have charge of the others.
Thesilencebugle sounds, though no one is supposed to make a noise after theassemblyhas sounded. The officer of the day comes along, a lieutenant, whose duty it is to look after the cadets that day. "Open order! March," is his order; "Rear rank, dress," says the chief captain, and he walks round the two lines, and sees that the cadets are properly dressed. That white lanyard you see round their neck is for holding their keys. A sailor always has a knife at the end of such a lanyard.
"Close order! March," and the officer of the day marches them off to their various studies for the morning. Let us go and see where they have gone. Half of them, one watch, have gone down into the large mess-room. They sit round the room at the tables by the ship's side, and prepare work for their naval instructors. In a little while the servants will lay the middle tables for breakfast, but they do not mind the noise.
Up in the lecture-room, the chaplain has some classes at a Bible lesson. Just outside the lecture-room a sailor is teaching some of the boys at a model of a ship. On the main-deck of the "other ship," a sergeant is drilling some of the boys, and on the place where all stood for the first muster cadets are seated on forms, and are being taught by a sailor the meaning of some sea expressions, and what they are to do to avoid collisions at sea.
So they are busy at work till at ten minutes past eight a bugle goes for all to go down into the mess-room, where they range themselves at their places for breakfast.
At a quarter past eight the chaplain comes down to read prayers, the captain of the ship and the officer of the day coming down too. Then breakfast and letters, which are handed round to the fortunate ones.
There is plenty of talk at breakfast; but tea, coffee, and cocoa, bread-and-butter, meat of some sort, eggs, bacon, or fish and porridge, are very welcome after the hour's work, with which the day has begun.
At a quarter to nine there is a bugle-call which sends a pang to some hearts.Defaulters'bugle. Those who have been reported during the previous day are told to "fall in on the aft deck," and there they stand in a line. The commander comes and hears the report—investigates the case—asks what the cadet has to say, and then awards some punishment. We have seen one form of it. Then there is extra drill and march out with a corporal, or standing up after the others have "turned in," or as we should say, gone to bed. Poor fellows! it is a court of justice; and they would do well to keep off the aft deck. If the offence is serious, it is reported to the captain of the ship, who is head of all. Perhaps the offender is reduced to "second class for conduct," and has to wear a piece of white tape on his arm, be kept apart from all the others, and undergo all sorts of drills and privations.
At nine, the bugle soundsassembly—the principal assembly of the day, "Cadets' Divisions" it is called. All the officers are present. The cadets are again inspected, and they are marched off to their various studies for the morning. Mathematics and navigation are learned with the naval instructors. Then there are French and drawing, English, seamanship, instruments and charts, natural philosophy and many difficult things which it is considered necessary for these little fellows to master before they are fit to go to sea. If we visit them in their class-rooms, we shall see very light cheery rooms built on the upper deck, so that they have light from above. There are eight pupils only in each room, each having a separate table with a drawer for books. The naval instructor is teaching them, with the help of a blackboard, to do some questions about ships sailing, or to solve some problem made of lines and circles.
The cadets are all taught how to find by the sun and the compass where their ship is on the sea, and how they ought to steer her to get from place to place.
In another class-room, we find a staff commander teaching a class how to use the sextant, which is the sailor's most useful instrument for finding his place at sea, from sun and stars; or he may be teaching them how to use a chart or to draw a chart themselves.
In the lecture-room a lecture is being given on the steam-engine and the ways in which heat is used. Behind the lecturer, in glass cases, are many beautiful models for teaching the cadets all about machines, light, heat, sound, magnetism, and electricity, such as would make many boys long to pull them about for a while, and see how they work.
We might go and learn how the sails are set and furled from one of these fine models of ships, or how anchors and cables are managed from another.
In this little room, called the "Sick Bay," we find some poor fellows who have to lie in bed. One has caught a cold, and one has cut his foot in bathing. Fortunately, the Sick Bay is mostfrequently empty, for theBritannialife is a very healthy one.
There are eight studies like the one where we saw the naval instructor teaching navigation, four in each ship. In theHindostanwe find two Frenchmen teaching their classes how to read and write French, and two drawing studies, in one of which they are taught to draw models with the aid of ruler and compasses. In the other they are learning the use of paints and paint-brushes. It is so useful for a young boy to be able to make sketches in water colours of all the pretty places he goes to; some of them are really quite clever at it before they leave.
Illustration: 1. THE CADETS' BOAT-HOUSE AND BOATS; 2. THE BRITANNIA AND HINDOSTAN.1. the cadets' boat-house and boats; 2. thebritanniaandhindostan.(See pp.143,146.)
We hear a noise of marching about; the bell is struck four times; ten o'clock. The French classes are only an hour long, and boys are changing class-rooms.
At five minutes to eleven there is a bugle-call, followed by a hurry-scurry; the whole ship is alive at once. There is an interval of a quarter of an hour. Leap-frog in the open air on the upper deck; running after one another till they get out of breath; fun of all sorts immediately becomes the order of the day, and certainly this quarter of an hour is right well spent in throwing off the evil effects of working too hard.
It is too soon interrupted by the warning bugle. And the whole ship sinks into silence as the cadets go back to their studies; those who have been atseamanship or drawing going to the harder work of mathematics.
At one o'clock study is over for the morning, and a good hard morning's work it has been for the boys, since a quarter past seven, with a break for breakfast, and an interval for play.
On half-holidays, work is over at twelve, and we shall soon see how they spend their half-holidays. Bugle—"wash hands," and then the merry bugle which means dinner.
Before and after dinner, a blessing is asked by the chief captain of cadets. When the cloth has been removed and grace has been said, away they rush for a short time of fun before study at two, and they do a somewhat light class of work till half-past three.
This is the happy time of all the day, and so you would think if you saw them.
Before you would have thought they could be all fairly out of their studies, you will see many of them rushing down to the large boats, which are waiting alongside. They are dressed in white flannel trousers, which they are all obliged to put on before going ashore. It is a fine sight to see these boats, one on each side of the ship, filled full of boys, all eager to get to their games.
We must follow them ashore. But first, I must tell you that in winter they go directly after dinner, and stay ashore till four o'clock. They then have their afternoon study from half past four till six.
It is much better for the boys to have daylight for their run ashore, instead of waiting till daylight has all gone, and landing at half past three to find it soon become dark.
On Wednesday and Saturday, when there is a half-holiday, they have dinner at twelve and land directly after. And then they are free in summer till a quarter to seven. What a royal time most schoolboys would think this! No roll-call. They are quite free to go as far as they like, for there are no bounds, except the town.
They are on their honour not to go into houses. This, and their promise not to bathe at any but the appointed time and place, are the only restrictions put upon them.
But we must hurry after them, or they will get the start of us, and we shall lose them.
We have not far to go before we catch them. A bugle sounds, and a hundred and twenty forms plunge from the bathing-stage and quay into the water. The bright harbour is dotted with the heads of swimmers. Some backward boys are being taught to swim in a "swimming-tray," a thing like a flat-bottomed barge, sunk with its bottom about four feet below the surface. A capital place it is for teaching youngsters to swim. But all soon learn, and are free to join the others in sporting about and cutting capers in the water. A warning bugle of one note says "it will soon be time to get out," and by the time the bugle sounds fifteen minutes from the first, they must all get out of the water.
The gymnasium—the building in the top left-hand corner of the picture on p. 145—is close by. Here they must go through a series of exercises, and they are obliged to attend till they can do them. "Compulsory Gyms," is not a favourite, so they like to get through and be free.
Here are the "blue boats,"—boats which they may have by themselves, gigs for four to pull, skiffs for two or one. They may row about wherever they like, and when the new boys first come, they are very fond of going out in boats as often as they can. They have to take turns with one another in using them. There are six little sailing-cutters too, which the elder cadets may take and sail by themselves. Then, besides, there is a fine yacht, a schooner, which they may sail on a holiday, when ten or twelve wish to go.
These young fellows have every sort of game. We turn away from the water, and follow some who are mounting a steep path. Here is the racquet-court—four are playing racquets and four playing fives.
And climbing still higher up the hill, we get to the cricket-field, a glorious sweep of grass with nets for cricket and lawn tennis, as much as heart could wish.
In the summer, there is a match at cricket between theBritanniaeleven and some neighbours every half-holiday, and theBritanniasusually win, though they play the best elevens round. Their officers play with them.
There is a flow of boys with paper bags from a suspicious-looking little house in the corner of the field. Ah! I thought as much. No schoolboy can do without his sweetstuff, and here it is. "Stodge" they call it, a horrible name, but very true. I am sure much more sensible are those who walk off to the neighbouring village of Stoke Fleming, where they can get a nice tea from Mrs. Fox from sixpence to a shilling.
We well remember how shocked Mrs. Fox was to come in and find the elder son of the Prince of Wales chopping sticks in her kitchen; for these two young princes six years ago spent a cadet's life of two years, and lived with the others, and worked and played exactly like the rest.
TheBritannialife, you will see, is a very free and happy life. "Work while you work and play while you play" is the motto, and there is plenty of work and plenty of play for all who will have it.
In the afternoon of a half-holiday, when there is a grand cricket-match, and the band plays, and many ladies come to grace the field, there is not a brighter sight in all the country side, for the field stands in the prettiest place possible, with lovely country, sea and hills, to be seen around.
But it is time for all to go back—the longest afternoons must end, and the letter B, a square flag with a red middle, which is hoisted to recall them, is already displayed on theBritannia'smast.
A bell in the cricket-field says "play is over," and down they go in twos and threes to find the same big boats ready to take them back.
It has been a fine afternoon, and the field and sports have looked at their best. But if it had rained hard, and when the cadets came out from dinner, or from study, they had found the words "No Landing!" hanging by the ship's clock, there would have been no such fun. It is a long afternoon when it rains, and they are tied to the ship.
Tea at seven, or a quarter past—a merry meal with all the stories of the day to tell. Sometimes an accident—a boy has fallen down the cliff, or been hit in the field—will throw a damp over all. Sometimes they will be all alive with the discussion of a piece of news—there is to be a war. In six months some of them will be fighting. Sometimes an adventure, an irate farmer has caught two in his wheat, and has chased them and possessed himself of a cap. They will see that cap next morning, and its owner will be standing on the aft deck at 8.45 forjudgment.
In the winter there is a pack of beagles, which lead the cadets a fine chase over the country.
"Oh! they are spoiled, these boys!" you will say. But wait till you see them, in a year's time, broiling under a tropical sun, cruising for weeks in a boat after slavers, and living on a short allowance of dry food and water. These young fellows are welcome to a happy life while they can get it.
For tea they have cold meat, or something else substantial. After tea, work for those who have it to do, in two studies, which are kept quiet, or in the mess-room.
The band plays, and some cadets dance with one another on the open middle deck.
And at a quarter past nine, prayers are read in the mess-room, and the bugle sounds "Turn in."
And the ship is silent till the day begins again.
"Arthur!Arthur!" Kitty called, as she ran down the garden path.
Her brother was lying under the beech-trees at the foot of the garden. A copy-book lay on the grass before him, in which he was writing with a pencil. Arthur wrote poems, and histories, and tragedies, which he and his companions acted for the edification of their relations and friends. At this moment he was composing a story which he intended should be very thrilling. He had only got as far as the two first sentences.
"Charles was determined to have some adventures. So he went into a wood and met a tiger."
At this point he heard his sister calling to him.
"What is it, Kitty? I wish you wouldn't interrupt me just now. I'm very, very busy."
"Oh, Arthur, I wish you would come and see a little boy who's at the gate. He looks so hungry."
Arthur rose somewhat slowly, and went to the boy. Like all authors, he didn't much like being called away in the full swing of literary production. He proceeded to a little side gate which opened on to the highway and the open fields beyond. Here Arthur found a boy about a year younger than himself, bareheaded and barefooted, without a coat, and with a very worn and ragged shirt and trousers. The little fellow looked both tired and hungry, and his wearied look would have touched harder hearts than those of Arthur and Kitty.
"Are you hungry?" Arthur asked.
"Yes, vera. I've no had onything sin' yesterday."
"I'm sure he's telling the truth. You have only to look at him," said Kitty, who now joined him.
"Well, we might get him something to eat, anyhow. You stay there, boy, till we come back."
Arthur and Kitty went into the house together, and presently returned with a very large slice of bread, a piece of cheese to correspond, and a bit of cold pudding, that would have alone satisfied the appetites of two ordinary boys, even though extraordinarily hungry. It was as much as the lad could do to hold them all, and he thanked his young benefactors more by looks than words.
On the following morning, shortly after breakfast, Arthur's mother said—
"I should like you to take something for me to Mrs. Stewart's to-day, Arthur. There are severalthings I should like to send her. I have a small cheese and a pot of currant jelly that can go. Then I want her to have one of those young Dorking hens your father got the other day. I'll give you a small basket for that."
Mrs. Stewart was a very old friend of the family, having been the nurse of Arthur and Kitty, and of their mother before them.
Arthur set out with his leather bag strapped across his back, and the basket containing a little Dorking hen in his hand. Presently he became aware how hot it was getting, and when he reached a small clump of trees near a hay-field he thought he would sit down and rest a while. He had been walking about an hour by this time. He thought he never recollected such a warm day. Arthur began to feel very sleepy. He rubbed his eyes to keep himself awake, but his head nodded more and more, and before he was well aware of it he was fast asleep, lying huddled together on the bank on which he had sat down.
Arthur must have been asleep nearly an hour, when he awoke with a sudden start. The sun was high up in the heavens, and he judged it to be nearly midday. He got upon his feet hurriedly and caught up his basket. It felt lighter, he thought, and hastily lifting the wicker lid he found that it was empty. The little Dorking hen was gone!
Astonishment was the first feeling in Arthur's mind, then perplexity and mortification. What would his mother think of his carelessness and unbusinesslike qualities. It seemed he could not be trusted to execute this simplest message. What was he to do? He searched all the ground in the immediate neighbourhood in the hope of discovering the little hen hidden behind some bush or clump of ferns. But she was nowhere to be seen, and he was in sore perplexity and chagrin.
Then he picked up his empty basket, and continued on his way. There was nothing for it but to take the cheese and the pot of jelly to Mrs. Stewart, explain matters to her, and return another day with another hen, if his mother so decided, as it was probable she would. He walked on with a pretty downcast heart.
Illustration: 'THE LITTLE FELLOW LOOKED BOTH TIRED AND HUNGRY'"the little fellow looked both tired and hungry" (p.147).
He was now ascending a hill, and when he reached the top an unexpected sight met his eyes. A crowd of people were gathered in the plain below. They made a large circle, and it was evident that the attention of everybody forming the circle was concentrated on what was going on within it. Flags were flying, and the strains of a military band floated up to Arthur, where he stood on the top of the hill. On the outskirts of the crowd a number of carriages and other vehicles were standing, filled with ladies and gentlemen.
Then Arthur recollected that this was the day of the Highland gathering of the county. A dance was going on as he approached, and four tall and stalwart Highlanders in complete national costumes, bonneted and kilted, were leaping and wheeling, cracking their fingers and uttering shrill cries as they danced with astonishing vigour and adroitness on a raised wooden platform.
But Arthur's attention had hardly been turned upon the dancers when it was diverted in another direction. What should he catch sight of, a good deal to his astonishment, but his little Dorkinghen stepping quietly about among the people, unconcerned and unmoved by the stir and the bustle, paying heed to nobody, and no one giving heed to it.
At the moment Arthur caught sight of his truant hen, it was passing under a carriage, quietly pecking among the grass and ferns in its march. So he approached, and cautiously bent down on his hands and knees to get at the hen. It was almost within his grasp when a sharp report rang through the air—a rifle-discharge, the signal for a foot-race to begin. The next moment he felt a heavy blow on his shoulder, which knocked him flat upon his back. A mist rose up before his eyes, in which the whole world around him seemed to float for a moment; then he felt himself being dragged suddenly and forcibly backward, and then he knew no more.
Arthur had gone off in a faint; but it only lasted a few moments. When he came to himself, he beheld a little crowd of people gathered round him, and a man was bending down and bathing his forehead with a wet handkerchief. Then he saw another figure stretched on the ground at his side, quite motionless and silent. It was the form of a boy; the face was turned upwards, and to his great astonishment Arthur found that it was the poor lad to whom he and his sister had given the food on the previous day.
"I saw the whole thing. It was all over in a twinkling," a gentleman was saying. "The boy was bending under the carriage reaching forwards to secure the bird. At that moment the gun went off, the horses started forward, and the wheel came against the boy, and knocked him backward. Just then this poor little fellow rushed forward right among the wheels of the carriage, caught the boy, and dragged him out, but not in time to save himself. The wheel passed over his leg, and I am afraid it is badly hurt."
By this time Arthur was on his feet.
"Oh! he is not dead, Dr. Bruce, is he?" he asked of the gentleman, who was busy examining the boy, and whom he knew quite well as the doctor of the district.
"No, not so bad as that, I hope; but a rather bad break, I am afraid. It was a close shave foryou, laddie. But for this brave boy the carriage-wheel would have passed right over you."
"What are you going to do with the poor boy, doctor? Do you know who he is, or anything about him?" a lady asked, whom Arthur recognised as Lady Elmslie.
"No, I never saw him before. But we must get him to Redloaning as quickly as possible, and have him taken to some cottage."
"See that he has everything that is necessary, doctor; and send up to Inverweir, if you can't get all you require in the village," Lady Elmslie said. It was her horses that had started forward at the discharge of the gun, and had been the cause of the accident.
Illustration: 'ARTHUR BEGAN TO FEEL VERY SLEEPY'"arthur began to feel very sleepy" (p.148).
A man now stepped forward, and said, "Ye'll just let me carry the laddie to the village, doctor. I'll start the noo, and I'll carry him easier like than any kind o' trap, ye ken."
"A good idea, Stoddart. Lift him gently."
"I'll do that. He's a bit hero, puir laddie; an' we mauna let him dee for his brave deed."
Stoddart lifted the still unconscious boy in his strong arms like an infant, and starting off carried him in the direction of Redloaning.
"Take him to Mrs. Aikman's cottage, and I'll be there as soon as you," the doctor said. In a few minutes he mounted his horse and followed in the same direction.
Meanwhile Arthur stood by hearing all that wassaid with anxious interest. Though not much hurt, he was a good deal shaken, and was still trembling from head to foot.
"Are you sure you are not hurt too, Arthur Dalrymple?" Lady Elmslie asked, looking into the boy's white and startled face.
"Oh, no, I'm not hurt; but that poor boy, Lady Elmslie, will he be all right again soon?"
"I hope so. We will do all we can for him. Don't you know anything about him, either? But stop! Get up here beside me and I'll drive you home; and you can tell me all you know about it."
Arthur got into the carriage. He rapidly decided that he would return home at once, and give up all thoughts of going to Mrs. Stewart's to-day. On the way home he told Lady Elmslie as briefly as possible all he knew about the little boy who had been the means of saving probably his life.
Lady Elmslie set Arthur down at the garden gate, but did not go with him into the house. Then Arthur had to recount to his father, his mother, and Kitty all the morning's adventures in detail, which he did in a somewhat excited manner.
"I shall walk over to Redloaning and see how the poor boy is doing this evening," Mr. Dalrymple said.
Mr. Dalrymple, much to his relief, found that the boy, his son's preserver, was progressing as favourably as the case permitted. The poor boy was manifestly suffering much pain, but he made no complaint or murmur. He was able to tell his simple story.
On the previous day when he had first seen Arthur and his sister, he had been on his way to Redloaning from the neighbouring village of Westburn, to see if he could get any kind of light employment in the former place. His mother was dead, and his father had lately enlisted in the army, leaving his boy to his own fate and fortunes. He had succeeded in obtaining a situation in Redloaning as a message-boy, but the place would not be vacant for a few days. So after passing a night in the village he was returning next day to Westburn, to remain there until he could enter upon his new duties. He was attracted by the show and stir and bravery of the games, and, like Arthur, lingered a while to watch the gay on-goings.
Illustration: 'STODDART ... CARRIED HIM'"stoddart ... carried him" (p.149).
There he saw his young benefactor of the previous day before the latter saw him. The kindness and generosity of Arthur and his sister were yet fresh in his heart; the moment came when he saw an opportunity of repaying those kind offices, and I have tried to show you how he seized and used it.
Andy received the tenderest nursing, and more kindness and gentleness, probably, were compressed into the weeks he lay in bed than had fallen to his lot during the whole of his previous life.
"Arthur," Kitty said, on the first day that her brother and she saw Andy, "hasn't it all been strange about Andy and you?" Then a funny little smile came into her eyes, and she added, "You see, Arthur,Charles was determined to have some adventures, as you wrote; but it was you who got them. By-the-bye, you never told us what became of the little hen."
"I can't tell you. I never saw it again. I don'tthink it was hurt by the carriage, and it may be wandering about the hill-side still, and perhaps it may wander back home again."
Andy's progress towards complete recovery from his hurt was slow and at times painful. But at last he did get well and strong again. When he was quite able for work, instead of taking the situation at Redloaning, which had been long since filled up, he went into Mrs. Dalrymple's service as assistant to the gardeners at Fircroft, a post he was still filling with much success and credit when I last heard of him.
Robert Richardson
Benny, so here we are then," said the sturdy-looking sailor, as Ben, the "Reading-Boy," went running up to the railway station at Liverpool Street, London, just as the last shower of night rain was blowing away over the houses, and the sun was just peeping out and giving the grey sky a tint of salmon colour. "I'm glad as you've got from this mornin' to Wednesday, Benny, becos you see it's a pretty long v'yge from here to Yarmouth, and I'm glad you're in good time, Ben; an' I'm glad as your precious mother has made you put a coat over your jacket. 5.15 the train goes, Ben.""What fun it is, eh, uncle! Only fancy my going down to the sea! Why, I shouldn't want to come back if it wasn't for mother.""Now don't you be a rollin' stone, Benny. It's all very fine for fair weather sailors, to go and sit about on the beach, and p'raps be rowed out a little way, or take a trip when everything's smooth below and aloft, but just you find yerself aboard one of our smacks, in the North Sea, one night when there's a stiff sea on, and the wind cuttin' your hair off your head, and your hands stiff and blue with haulin' on to the trawl-nets, and you'd tell a different story. No, no, I don'tthinkas you're cut out for a fisher-boy, or leastways a smack-boy, for that's what they call 'em.""A smack-boy! that's a queer name," said Ben, laughing."Ah, ain't it? and there's a double meanin' in it too, for I can tell you the smack-men ain't very slow for to give the youngsters a knock over the head, or a smack of the face, or a rope's-endin'. But as it's Yarmouth we're bound for, you will soon see what our fisheries are really like; and there, too, you'll find our men hard at it in tarpaulins or canvas frocks, and wet through and through perhaps, and not much time to get a drop of hot coffee nor a bit to eat. Think of that, Benny."Ben looked serious when he heard this, and it was not till they had taken their seats in the railway-carriage, and were rattling along far beyond the houses and amidst the trees and fields of the country that he began to talk again.
enny, so here we are then," said the sturdy-looking sailor, as Ben, the "Reading-Boy," went running up to the railway station at Liverpool Street, London, just as the last shower of night rain was blowing away over the houses, and the sun was just peeping out and giving the grey sky a tint of salmon colour. "I'm glad as you've got from this mornin' to Wednesday, Benny, becos you see it's a pretty long v'yge from here to Yarmouth, and I'm glad you're in good time, Ben; an' I'm glad as your precious mother has made you put a coat over your jacket. 5.15 the train goes, Ben."
"What fun it is, eh, uncle! Only fancy my going down to the sea! Why, I shouldn't want to come back if it wasn't for mother."
"Now don't you be a rollin' stone, Benny. It's all very fine for fair weather sailors, to go and sit about on the beach, and p'raps be rowed out a little way, or take a trip when everything's smooth below and aloft, but just you find yerself aboard one of our smacks, in the North Sea, one night when there's a stiff sea on, and the wind cuttin' your hair off your head, and your hands stiff and blue with haulin' on to the trawl-nets, and you'd tell a different story. No, no, I don'tthinkas you're cut out for a fisher-boy, or leastways a smack-boy, for that's what they call 'em."
"A smack-boy! that's a queer name," said Ben, laughing.
"Ah, ain't it? and there's a double meanin' in it too, for I can tell you the smack-men ain't very slow for to give the youngsters a knock over the head, or a smack of the face, or a rope's-endin'. But as it's Yarmouth we're bound for, you will soon see what our fisheries are really like; and there, too, you'll find our men hard at it in tarpaulins or canvas frocks, and wet through and through perhaps, and not much time to get a drop of hot coffee nor a bit to eat. Think of that, Benny."
Ben looked serious when he heard this, and it was not till they had taken their seats in the railway-carriage, and were rattling along far beyond the houses and amidst the trees and fields of the country that he began to talk again.
"Don't the boys that go fishing like their business?" he asked.
"Well, you see," said his uncle, "they'vegotto like it, because when they're once in it they can't well turn to anything else. It's a rough, hard life, especially for the young 'uns, Benny. Not so hard as it used to be, though. I can remember when I was a younker we used to go fishing for cod off the Dogger Bank, which is a great ridge of hills at the bottom of the sea, not far from the coast of Holland. We'd be out for a good while, and not have much to eat except cod b'iled or cod fried in a pan; and if there was much sea on, and the wind blowin' a gale, it was a hard matter to cook it at all. Now the cutters bring us some of our meat and vegetables and soft bread; but still the boys have a hard time.
"If it's the herring-boys, they have to watch the floats—the big, round things that you'll see at the edge of the nets, Ben—to keep them near the top of the water; and whether it's drift-nets or trawling-nets, they must take their share of hauling in and of playing out, night or day. More than that, too: any sort of work is boy's work, whether it's to swab the decks or to take a turn at frying fish in the cooking-galley, or paying a boat with tar, or helping to take a boat-load of fish off to the cutter in bad weather, when the waves tosses so that the fish, being loose, may slide, so that one side of the boat may heel over, and before you know where you are you're capsized and struggling in the dark, cold sea, with a singing in your ears, and the faint cries of your mates just as bad off as you are."
"But, of course, it isn't always so bad," said Ben.
"Well, no; and there's times when we've no call to grumble. Such weather as this, when there's green sea and blue sky, and bright sun overhead and clear moonlight nights, with fresh and light breezes to take the sail. Nothing could seem morepleasant than the life of a fisherman if it was always like that; but then, this isn't exactly fishing weather, Ben, and however fine it may be the boys haven't any idle time of it.
"There's always ropes to splice, or sails or nets to mend, or something to clean or to scrape, or to pay down with tar; and if there's any good in going out at all the nets must be looked to and lowered and hauled in. Even on Sundays there's things to be attended to by the lads, and though I don't say as 'ow boys is made to do useless work, yet, when they're there on that day, they toil pretty hard for little 'uns.
"And now, Ben, if you don't object, I'm going to smoke a bit o' bacca, and then you can rest your tongue a bit, if you like."
But Ben had a hundred more questions to ask about the fishing-boats, or "smacks," as they are called, and how many of them there were, and how many fish they caught at a time; and his uncle, who settled comfortably down and lighted his pipe, told him a great deal about them.
And Ben was surprised to hear that there are many thousands of men and boys who go out to catch the millions and millions of all sorts of fish that are sent to the markets in the large towns of England by railway nearly every day. He had been to Billingsgate Market in Thames Street, and to the new fish-market in Smithfield, and had seen the great piles of cod-fish, and skates, and soles, and plaice, and the boxes and baskets of white fresh herrings, and the beautiful shining mackerel, but he did not know how great was the number of herrings, and pilchards, and cod-fish that were also salted and put in barrels to be sent from England to foreign countries. He knew what bloaters were, of course, and had heard that they were herrings just a little salted and smoked over burning wood, but how was he to know that at Yarmouth there was a great fleet of herring-boats, and that in the cold November weather they went far out to sea in the mist and rain, and were night after night hauling in the great nets full of glistening silver fish?
His uncle was the owner of two smacks, but he did not go herring-fishing. He was what is called a trawler, and he and his men and boys used a different sort of net. The herring-nets are called drift-nets, and catch the fish that swim in shoals, which means a large number together, near the surface of the sea; but the trawl-nets are shaped like a long purse or bag open at the mouth. These nets go to the bottom of the sea, and in them are caught cod, whiting, soles, and other fish that lie at the bottom, and swim deep down in the water.
When Ben's uncle was a smack-boy the trawlers, after they had caught as many fish as they could carry in a deep well in their boat, used to sail away as fast as they could to Billingsgate Market, or to some place where people would buy their fish and send it by railway to London; but now the old fisherman said they had much bigger vessels, and would stay out sometimes for four or five weeks tossing about in the North Sea, or, as it is sometimes called, the German Ocean, and dragging the great trawl-nets night and day.
"Not much time to play, Ben, my boy," said the bluff old fellow. "Sometimes not too much to eat either, except fish and biscuit, and not much room to sleep in when you turn in to your hard wooden bunk and pull a rough blanket over you to keep out the cold."
"But you don't keep the fish long on board, do you, uncle?" asked Ben.
"No, no, my lad. A fast-sailing boat that we call a cutter comes and goes from shore to the fleet of trawlers, and takes the fish off; backwards and forwards it goes, and away goes the fish directly it's sold—up to London, or elsewhere, where there's millions of mouths waiting for it. Ah! I well remember when the smack-boys, or the fisher-boys, would have to help to take the fish off in a boat to the cutter on a dark night, and many a time the poor fellows would get capsized, and afterwards go down in that cold North Sea. Hard work, my lad, hard fare; and in danger half the time. Things are better now, perhaps; but we're out longer a good deal, and there's a big fleet that belongs to a company that keeps the men and the boys out for weeks at a time, and fetches all that they catch, so that by the time they get ashore the poor fellows are pretty near worn out. Of course the cutter takes out food for 'em, but it can't take 'em out warmth and dry clothes, and snug beds, and every year there is some of the vessels lost, and perhaps all on board lost too."
"Well," says Ben, looking very solemn; "there's some that get lost on land too. They fall ill or get a bad cough, or have some sort of accident with machinery or something, you know, uncle; but we're obliged to work all the same."
"Well said, my boy Ben," said the fisherman. "The thing is to do our duty, whatever it may be, and to pray that we may be made able to do it. Some of our smack-boys go to school when they're at home, and there's a mission-room where they go to hear and to read the Bible, and have teas and singing, and various treats, and some fun too sometimes. Yes, things are better than they used to be in my young days."
It was a long journey to Yarmouth, but Ben greatly enjoyed it, and when he and his uncle got there they went at once to have a look at the sea.
Such a great broad expanse of soft yellowish sandy beach, where the great waves came rolling in! such a long pier where people were fishing with hooks and lines, and sometimes catching a codling or a whiting! "I'll go and have a try at that by-and by," said Ben; "but what are those great wooden towers that look like a sort of big puzzle stuck up on end?"
"They're the look-out towers, Ben. Now, do you see that cutter over yonder, coming into shore with its big sail like a sea-bird's wing? Keep your eye on it for a minute, and then look at the top of that tower, and you'll see that there are men there that have got their eyes and their telescopes on it too. Now do you see these carts coming along, and do you see those black barges floating ready to pull out when the cutter comes near in shore? The cutter will unload a rare lot of fish. The men on the look-out tower saw her coming, and signalled to the barges and the carts to be ready. That shipload of fish will be off by a special train to-night, Ben; and if you were in London you might, if you could afford it, have some of it."
"But where's the herrings—the Yarmouth bloaters, you know?" asked Ben.
"Ah, well! this isn't the time to see so much of them. It's in the winter you see the herring-smacks come in at the herring-wharf over yonder, and hundreds of baskets full of the shining fellows brought ashore and sold, and sent off fresh in no time; while others are kept here to turn into bloaters, or red herrings, or kippers. Those sheds in the yard over there are where hundreds of women and girls set to work to salt or pack the herrings in barrels; the bloaters are what we call cured in the herring-office."
"That's a funny name," said Ben.
"Yes; and it's funny what goes on there. The herrings are brought ashore, are shot out of the baskets on to the stone floor, shovelled into big tubs to be washed, and then threaded through the gills on to long laths of wood. Then these laths with the rows of herrings strung on 'em are hung in frames from wall to wall of a top room, like a barn with a stone floor, and a hole in the roof. When that room's full of herrings all hanging in rows—thousands and thousands o' fish—a fire of oak chips and logs is lighted on the floor, and the smoke going all among the herrings, and only by degrees getting out of the hole in the roof, the fish are smoked; and them that's salted first is red herrings, and them that's only just touched dry with the smoke like are bloaters.
"So now we'll get down to our lodging, and have some supper, Ben; and so to bed, that we may be up early in the morning; but don't you dream about being a smack-boy, or you won't sleep at all sound, I can tell you."
Thomas Archer