Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Thirteen.How to bale out a Boat when she’s much too full.Accidents generally happen instantaneously; people are in safety one moment, the next there is a sudden awakening to the fact that something dreadful has happened. It was so here in the coming darkness of night. Almost before the two lads had realised more than the fact that something black was approaching there was a loud rushing noise, a crash, and shock, as the boat was struck a tremendous blow on the side, whirled round, sucked under water, and then all was blackness, choking, strangling sensations, and a horrible sense of dread.Dick, fresh from London, did not understand what was the matter. For one moment he had an idea that the boat had been attacked by a monstrous whale; the next moment that and every other idea was washed out of him by the dark waters, which ran up his nose and thundered in his ears, as they made him gasp for breath.How long this lasted he could not tell, before he found himself on the surface, confused and helpless, amidst a sheet of foaming, swirling waters.“Can you swim?” some one shouted in his ear.“Ye–es—a—lit-tle,” panted Dick.“Steady then, steady, lad. Slow—slow—take in a reef. You’ll drown yourself like a pup if you beat the water that how.”Influenced by the stronger will and the stern order, Dick, who had been striking out with all his might, calmed down and began to swim steadily, but with a great dread seeming to paralyse his limbs, while Josh, who was by him, shouted, “Ahoy!”“Ahoy!” came faintly from a distance, in the direction where the black cloud had resolved itself into the form of a great screw steamer with star-like lights visible here and there.“Here away, lad,” shouted back Josh. “They haven’t seen us,” he added to Dick.“What—what was it?” panted Dick, who was swimming more steadily now.“Big steamer—run us down—ain’t seen us—no good to shout,” cried Josh. “Steady, lad, steady. We’ve got to swim ashore.”“Josh, ahoy! Where’s young master?” came out of the darkness. And now as Dick grew a little calmer, he fancied he saw pale lambent flashes of light on the water a little distance away.“Here he be,” shouted back Josh. “Steady, boy, steady! Don’t tire yourself like that,” he added again to Dick.The latter tried hard to obey, as he now became aware that at every stroke he made the water flashed into pale golden light; tiny dots of cold fire ran hither and thither beneath the surface, and ripples of lambent phosphorescent glow fell off to right and left.At the same moment almost, he saw, beyond the star-like lanthorns of the steamer, the twinkling lights of the village, apparently at a tremendous distance away, while one strong bright star shed a long ray of light across the water, being the big lamp in the wooden cage at the end of the harbour pier.“Avast there, Will!” shouted Josh again; “let’s overhaul you, and keep together. Seen either o’ the buoys?”“No.”“Why don’t they swim ashore?” thought Dick. “Never mind the buoys. Oh! I shall never do it.”A cold chilly feeling of despair came over him, and he began to beat the water more rapidly as his eyes fixed themselves wildly on the far-off lights, and he thought of his father and brother, perhaps waiting for him on the pier.“Swim slowly,” cried another voice close by; and Dick’s heart gave a leap. “It’s a long way, but we can do it.”“Can you?” panted poor Dick, who was nearly exhausted. “How far is it?”“About two miles, but the tide’s with us.”“I can’t do it,” panted Dick, “not a hundred yards.”“Yes, you can,” said Will firmly. “Only just move your arms steady, and let the tide carry you along. Josh,” he said more loudly, “keep close here.”“Ay, lad, I will,” replied the fisherman; and the calm, confident tones of his companions, who spoke as if it were a matter of course to swim a couple of miles, encouraged the lad a little; but his powers and his confidence were fast ebbing away, and it was not a matter of many minutes before he would have been helpless.For even if the sea had been perfectly smooth, he was no experienced swimmer, his efforts in this direction having been confined to a dip in the river when out on fishing excursions, or a bit of a practice in some swimming-bath at home. But the sea was not perfectly smooth, for the swift tide was steadily raising the water into long, gently heaving waves, which carried the swimmers, as it were, up one minute to the top of a little ridge, and then sank them the next down, down, out of sight, into what seemed to be profound darkness whenever the pier light was blotted out.“I—I—can’t keep on,” panted Dick at last, with a piteous cry. “Tell father—”He could say no more, for, striking out feebly, he had allowed his mouth to sink beneath the surface, and breathing in a quantity of strangling water he began to beat the surface, and then felt himself seized.Involuntarily, and with that natural instinct that prompts the drowning to cling to anything they touch, Dick’s hands clutched despairing at the stout arm that came to his help, but only to feel himself shaken off and snatched back, so that his face was turned towards the stars.“Float! Hold still! Hands under water!” a voice yelled in his ear; and half stunned, half insensible, he obeyed, getting his breath better at times, at others feeling the strangling water sweep over his face.It was a time of great peril, but there was aid such as neither Josh nor Will had counted upon close at hand.“I’ll keep him afloat till I’m tired,” Josh had said hoarsely, “and then you must have a turn. You can manage to make the shore, can’t you?”“Yes,” said Will; “but we—we mustn’t leave him, Josh.”“Who’s going to?” growled Josh fiercely. “You keep aside me.”They swam on, every stroke making the water flash, and the phosphorescence, like pale golden oil, sweep aside and ripple and flow upon the surface. The sky was now almost black but quite ablaze with stars, and the big lamp at the pierhead sent its cheery rays out, as if to show them the way to go, but in the transparent darkness it seemed to be miles upon miles away, while the sturdy swimmers felt as if they got no nearer, toil as they might.“I’m going to give him over to you, lad,” said Josh in his sing-song voice, for he had calmed down now. “I’ll soon take him again, lad, but—”“Hooray, Josh!” cried back Will; and he struck off to the left.“What is it, lad?”“Boat! the boat!”Josh wrenched himself up in the water, and looked over Dick, to see, dimly illumined by the golden ripples of the water, the outline of the boat, flush with the surface, its shape just seen by the phosphorescence, and he bore towards it.“T’other side, Will, lad,” cried Josh as he swam vigorously over the few intervening yards, half drowning Dick by forcing his head under water again and again; but as he reached the boat’s side, which was now an inch or two above, now the same distance below, he drew the lad flat on the surface, passed his hands beneath him, got hold of the gunwale, and half rolled Dick in, half drew the boat beneath him.“Mind he don’t come out that side, lad,” shouted Josh.“Ay, ay!” And then Will held on by one side of the sunken boat, while Josh held on the other.So slight was the buoyancy of the filled boat that the slightest touch in the way of pressure sent it down, and Dick could have drowned as easily there as in the open sea, but that, feeling something hard beneath him, a spark of hope shot to his brain, and he began to struggle once more.“Keep still,” shouted Will. “Lie back with your head on the gunwale;” and Dick obeyed, content to keep his face just above water so that he might breathe.“It arn’t much help, but it are a bit of help, eh, lad?” panted Josh. “Way oh! Steady!”“Yes, it is a rest, Josh,” panted back Will, whose spirits rose from somewhere about despair-point to three degrees above hope; but in his effort to get a little too much support from that which was not prepared to give any, he pressed on the gunwale at his side, and sent it far below the surface, drawing from Josh the warning shout, “Way oh! Steady!”The slightest thing sent the gunwale under—in fact, the pressure of a baby’s hand would have been sufficient to keep it below the surface; but the experienced swimmers on either side knew what they were about, and after seeing that Dick’s face was above water, and without any consultation, both being moved by the same impulse, they threw themselves on their backs beside the sunken boat, one with, his head towards her stem, the other head to stern, and after a moment’s pause each took hold of the gunwale lightly with his left hand, his right being free, and then they waited till they began to float upward.“Ready, lad?” said Josh.“Ready,” cried Will.“Both together, then.”Then there was a tremendous splashing as each turned his right-hand into a scoop and began to throw out the water with a skilful rapid motion somewhat similar to the waving of the fin of a fish; and this they kept up for quite five minutes, when Josh shouted again:“Easy!”There was not much result. They had dashed out a tremendous quantity of water, but nearly as much had flowed in again over the sides, as in their efforts they had sometimes dragged down the gunwale a little. Besides which a little wave had now and then broken against one or the other and sent gallons of water into the boat.Still they had done something, and after a rest Josh cried again:“Ready? Go ahead.”Once more the splashing began, the water flying out of the boat like showers of liquid gold; and just when the hand-paddles were in full play the boat began to move slightly, then a little more. Neither Josh nor Will knew why, for they could not see that it sank a little lower for a few minutes and then began to rise.“Hooray!” cried Josh hoarsely. “Well done, young un; out with it. Hooray! Oh, look at that!”He had just awakened to the fact that Dick had come to himself sufficiently to alter his position, and was lending his aid by scooping out the water with both hands till a wave came with a slight wash and half demolished all their work.“Keep on,” shouted Will; and once more the splashing went forward at a tremendous rate.A handful of water, or as much as it will throw, out of a full boat is not much; but when three hands are busy ladling with all their might a tremendous amount of water can be baled out, and so it was, that when the balers rested again there were three inches of freeboard, as sailors call it, and the next wave did not lessen it a quarter of an inch.“Ready again?” cried Josh. “Go ahead, youngster.”The splashing went on once more; and now both Will and Josh could support themselves easily by holding on to the gunwale, the boat increasing in buoyancy every moment, while three hands scooped out the water with long and vigorous well-laden throws.It became easier for Dick too now, for he found that he could sit astride one of the thwarts, holding on in position by twisting his legs beneath; and this gave him power to use both hands, which he joined together and scooped out the water in pints that became quarts, gallons, and bucketsfull.“Hooray!” cried Josh with a cheer, and there was a few minutes’ rest. “A mussy me! it’s child’s play now. Look here; s’pose you roll out now and take my place. No: go out on Will’s side and hold on by him while I get in.”Dick shivered at the idea. It seemed so horrible to give up his safe position and trust to the sea once more. But he did not hesitate long.Taking tight hold of the bulwark, he literally rolled over the side and let himself down into the sea, with the phosphorescence making his body, limbs, and feet even, visible like those of his companion. But there was no time to study the wonders of Nature then, or even look at the way in which the keel of the boat was illumined by myriads of golden points.“Hold on! Steady! Keep her down!” cried Josh; and then, as the two lads clung to the gunwale they were raised right up, as there was a wallow and a splash; the opposite side went down so low that it began to ship water, but only for a moment; Josh had given a spring, and rolled in over the side.“Now, then, leave him there, Will, lad, and work round, by her starn. I’ll soon have some of the water out now.”He began feeling about as he spoke with his hands beneath the thwarts forward, and directly after he uttered a cry of joy.“Here she be,” he said, tearing out the half of a tin bucket that had held the bait. “Now we’ll do some work.”As he spoke he began dipping and emptying, pouring nearly a gallon of water over the side at every turn; and in ten minutes, during which he had laboured incessantly, he had made such a change that he bade Will come in.“Now you can bale a bit,” he said. “My arms are about dead.”Will climbed in and took the bucket, scooping out the water with all his might, while Josh bent over Dick.“You’re ’bout perished, my lad. Come along.”He placed his hands under Dick’s arm-pits, and though he said that his own arms were about dead he hoisted the boy in almost without an effort, and then left him to help himself, while he resumed baling with his hands, scooping out the water pretty fast, and each moment lightening the little craft.“Good job we’d no stone killicks aboard, Will,” he said, “or down she’d have gone.”“There’s the buoys too wedged forward,” said Will; “they have helped to keep her up.”“’Bout balanced the creepers,” said Josh. “It’s a question of a pound weight at a time like this. There, take it steadily, my lads. We’re safe now, and can see that the tide’s carrying of us in. Lights look bigger, eh?”“Yes,” said Will, who was working hard with his baler. “Where shall we drive ashore?”“Oh! pretty close to the point,” cried Josh. “I say, youngster, this is coming fishing, eh?”“Oh! it is horrible,” said Dick, piteously.“Not it, lad,” cried Josh. “It’s grand. Why, we might ha’ been drownded, and, what’s wuss, never washed ashore.”Dick shivered as much from cold as misery, and gazed in the direction of the lights.“Wonder what steamer that was as run us down!” said Josh, as the vessel he used to bale began now to scrape the wood at the bottom of the boat.“French screw,” replied Will. “An English boat would have kept a better look-out. Why, you are cold!” he added, as he laid his hand on Dick.“Ye–es,” said the latter with a shudder. “It is horribly cold. Shall we ever get ashore?”“Ashore! yes,” cried Josh. “Why, they’d be able, ’most to hear us now. Let’s try.”Taking a long breath, he placed both hands to his cheeks, and then gave vent to a dismal hail—a hail in a minor key—the cry of the sailor in dire peril, when he appeals to those on shore to come to his help, and save him from the devouring storm-beaten sea.“Ahoy—ah!” the last syllable in a sinking inflexion of the voice a few seconds after the first.Then again:“Ahoy—ah!”He went on baling till no more water could be thrown out, and the boat drifted slowly on with the tide.Away to their left there rose the lamp-lit windows and the pier light. Lower down, too, were a couple of dim red lamps, one above the other, telling of the little dock; but no answer came from the shore.“There’s sure to be some one on the cliff, Josh; hail again,” said Will.“Ay, if we had a flare now, we should bring out the life-boat to fetch us in,” cried Josh. “Why, Will lad, we shall be taken a mile away from the town, and perhaps out to sea again. I wish I had an oar.”“Ahoy—ah!”Then again and again; and still there was no response, while they drifted slowly on over the sea, which looked to Dick, as he gazed down into its depths, alive with tiny stars, and these not the reflections of those above.“Ahoy—ah!” shouted Josh again, with all the power of his stentorian lungs.“They’re all asleep,” he growled; “we shall have to drift ashore and walk home. If I only had one oar I’d scull her back in no time. Ahoy—ah!”Still no response, and the boat floated on beneath the wondrous starry sky, while every time those in the boat made the slightest movement a golden rippling film seemed to run from her sides, and die away upon the surface of the sea.“She brimes a deal,” said Josh, in allusion to the golden water; and then, leaping up, he began to beat his breast with his arms; “I’m a-cold!” he exclaimed. “Now, then; let’s have a try;” and, placing his hands to his face once more, he uttered a tremendous hail.“Ahoy—ah!”Long drawn out and dismal; and then Dick’s heart gave a quick hopeful leap, for, from far away, and sounding faint and strange, came an answering hail, but not like Josh’s dismal appeal. It was a sharp, short, cheery “Ahoy!” full of promise of action.“They’ve heard us at last!” cried Will eagerly. “That’s the coastguard, and they’ll come off in their gig, as it’s so smooth.”“I say,” said Josh, in his low sing-song way; “haven’t I put it too strong? They’ll think somethin’ ’orrid’s wrong—that it’s a wreck, or somethin’ worse.”“Let them!” cried Will. “It’s horrible enough to be afloat in an open boat in the dark without oar or sail. Hail again, Josh.”“Ahoy—ah!” cried the fisherman once more, and an answer came back at once. Then another and another.“They’ll soon get a boat,” cried Will. “You listen.”“But they’ll never find us in the dark!” cried Dick dismally.“Oh, won’t they!” cried Josh; “they’d find us if we was only out in a pork tub. Lor’ a mussy me, youngster, you don’t know our Cornish lads!”“We shall keep on hailing now and then,” said Will, whose teeth were chattering in spite of his cheery tones.“Ahoy—oy—oy!”Very distinct but very distant the shouting of a numerous crowd of people; and now, like the tiniest and faintest of specks, lights could be seen dancing about on the shore, while all at once, one star, a vivid blue star, burst out, burning clear and bright for a few minutes, making Dick gaze wonderingly ashore.“Blue light,” said Will.“To hearten us up a bit, and say the boat’s coming!” cried Josh. “Ahoy—ah! Let ’em know which way to row.”Josh shouted from time to time, and then Will gave a shout or two; and there were answering shouts that seemed to come nearer, and at last plain enough there was the light of a lanthorn rising and falling slowly, telling of its being in a boat that was being propelled by stout rowers.“Why, my father’s sure to be in that boat!” cried Dick suddenly. “He’ll have been frightened about me, and have come off to see.”“Shouldn’t wonder,” said Josh. “I should if I had a boy.”“You shall hail when they get nearer,” said Will. “They couldn’t hear you yet.”“I wish he could!” cried Dick. “He’ll have been in such trouble. Oh, I know!”He had suddenly remembered a little silver whistle that was attached to his chain, and placing it to his lips he blew upon it a shrill ear-piercing scream.“There, I knew he would be!” cried Dick joyously; and he gave Will a hearty clap upon the shoulder in the eagerness of his delight. For from far away, where the dim light rose and fell upon the waters, there came an answering shrill chirruping whistle.Then Dick gave two short whistles.Two exactly similar came in response.“I knew he would be,” cried Dick; “but he’ll be very angry, I suppose.”“Uncle Abram will be there too, I should say,” said Will quietly.“Why, your father won’t be angry, my lad,” said Josh after a few minutes’ thought. “If he be it’ll be with Josh, which is me, for not keeping a bright lookout. He can’t row you for being run down, for you wasn’t neither captain nor the crew. Hillo! ahoy—ah!” he answered in return to a hail.“I say!” said Dick suddenly; “the lights are going the other way.”“Right, my lad; and so they have been this quarter hour past.”“Why’s that?” said Dick.“Because the tide’s ebbing fast.”“And what does that mean?” cried Dick.“As if they didn’t overhaul us we should be carried out to sea.”“But will they find us, Will?”“No fear of that. See how plain the light’s getting. Ahoy—ah! ahoy—ah! They’re not above a quarter of a mile away.”Soon after the dipping of the oars could be seen as they threw up the lambent light in flashes, while an ever-widening track of sparkling water was plain to the eyes. Then the voices came asking questions.“Ahoy! Who’s aboard there?”“Young gent Dick!” yelled Josh back.“Who else?”“Will Marion!”“Who else? Is that Josh?”“Ahoy, lad!”“Hurrah!” came from the boat three times, and the oars made the water flash again as they were more vigorously plied.“That’s your sort, Master Dick!” cried Josh. “That’s Cornish, that is! They chaps is as glad at finding us as—as—as—”“We should be at finding them,” said Will.“Ay; that’s it!”And so it seemed, for a few minutes more and the boat was alongside, and the wet and shivering fishers were seated in the stern-sheets, wrapped in oilskins and great-coats, their boat made fast behind, and Dick’s hand tight in that of his father, who said no word of reproach; while, after a long pull against tide, with the boat towing behind, they were landed at the head of the little harbour, where a crowd of the simple-hearted folk, many having lanthorns, saluted them with a hearty cheer, and any amount of hospitality bright have been theirs.For these dwellers by the sea, who follow their daily toil upon the treacherous waters, are always ready with their help, to give or take in the brotherly way that has long been known in the fishing villages upon the Cornish shores.

Accidents generally happen instantaneously; people are in safety one moment, the next there is a sudden awakening to the fact that something dreadful has happened. It was so here in the coming darkness of night. Almost before the two lads had realised more than the fact that something black was approaching there was a loud rushing noise, a crash, and shock, as the boat was struck a tremendous blow on the side, whirled round, sucked under water, and then all was blackness, choking, strangling sensations, and a horrible sense of dread.

Dick, fresh from London, did not understand what was the matter. For one moment he had an idea that the boat had been attacked by a monstrous whale; the next moment that and every other idea was washed out of him by the dark waters, which ran up his nose and thundered in his ears, as they made him gasp for breath.

How long this lasted he could not tell, before he found himself on the surface, confused and helpless, amidst a sheet of foaming, swirling waters.

“Can you swim?” some one shouted in his ear.

“Ye–es—a—lit-tle,” panted Dick.

“Steady then, steady, lad. Slow—slow—take in a reef. You’ll drown yourself like a pup if you beat the water that how.”

Influenced by the stronger will and the stern order, Dick, who had been striking out with all his might, calmed down and began to swim steadily, but with a great dread seeming to paralyse his limbs, while Josh, who was by him, shouted, “Ahoy!”

“Ahoy!” came faintly from a distance, in the direction where the black cloud had resolved itself into the form of a great screw steamer with star-like lights visible here and there.

“Here away, lad,” shouted back Josh. “They haven’t seen us,” he added to Dick.

“What—what was it?” panted Dick, who was swimming more steadily now.

“Big steamer—run us down—ain’t seen us—no good to shout,” cried Josh. “Steady, lad, steady. We’ve got to swim ashore.”

“Josh, ahoy! Where’s young master?” came out of the darkness. And now as Dick grew a little calmer, he fancied he saw pale lambent flashes of light on the water a little distance away.

“Here he be,” shouted back Josh. “Steady, boy, steady! Don’t tire yourself like that,” he added again to Dick.

The latter tried hard to obey, as he now became aware that at every stroke he made the water flashed into pale golden light; tiny dots of cold fire ran hither and thither beneath the surface, and ripples of lambent phosphorescent glow fell off to right and left.

At the same moment almost, he saw, beyond the star-like lanthorns of the steamer, the twinkling lights of the village, apparently at a tremendous distance away, while one strong bright star shed a long ray of light across the water, being the big lamp in the wooden cage at the end of the harbour pier.

“Avast there, Will!” shouted Josh again; “let’s overhaul you, and keep together. Seen either o’ the buoys?”

“No.”

“Why don’t they swim ashore?” thought Dick. “Never mind the buoys. Oh! I shall never do it.”

A cold chilly feeling of despair came over him, and he began to beat the water more rapidly as his eyes fixed themselves wildly on the far-off lights, and he thought of his father and brother, perhaps waiting for him on the pier.

“Swim slowly,” cried another voice close by; and Dick’s heart gave a leap. “It’s a long way, but we can do it.”

“Can you?” panted poor Dick, who was nearly exhausted. “How far is it?”

“About two miles, but the tide’s with us.”

“I can’t do it,” panted Dick, “not a hundred yards.”

“Yes, you can,” said Will firmly. “Only just move your arms steady, and let the tide carry you along. Josh,” he said more loudly, “keep close here.”

“Ay, lad, I will,” replied the fisherman; and the calm, confident tones of his companions, who spoke as if it were a matter of course to swim a couple of miles, encouraged the lad a little; but his powers and his confidence were fast ebbing away, and it was not a matter of many minutes before he would have been helpless.

For even if the sea had been perfectly smooth, he was no experienced swimmer, his efforts in this direction having been confined to a dip in the river when out on fishing excursions, or a bit of a practice in some swimming-bath at home. But the sea was not perfectly smooth, for the swift tide was steadily raising the water into long, gently heaving waves, which carried the swimmers, as it were, up one minute to the top of a little ridge, and then sank them the next down, down, out of sight, into what seemed to be profound darkness whenever the pier light was blotted out.

“I—I—can’t keep on,” panted Dick at last, with a piteous cry. “Tell father—”

He could say no more, for, striking out feebly, he had allowed his mouth to sink beneath the surface, and breathing in a quantity of strangling water he began to beat the surface, and then felt himself seized.

Involuntarily, and with that natural instinct that prompts the drowning to cling to anything they touch, Dick’s hands clutched despairing at the stout arm that came to his help, but only to feel himself shaken off and snatched back, so that his face was turned towards the stars.

“Float! Hold still! Hands under water!” a voice yelled in his ear; and half stunned, half insensible, he obeyed, getting his breath better at times, at others feeling the strangling water sweep over his face.

It was a time of great peril, but there was aid such as neither Josh nor Will had counted upon close at hand.

“I’ll keep him afloat till I’m tired,” Josh had said hoarsely, “and then you must have a turn. You can manage to make the shore, can’t you?”

“Yes,” said Will; “but we—we mustn’t leave him, Josh.”

“Who’s going to?” growled Josh fiercely. “You keep aside me.”

They swam on, every stroke making the water flash, and the phosphorescence, like pale golden oil, sweep aside and ripple and flow upon the surface. The sky was now almost black but quite ablaze with stars, and the big lamp at the pierhead sent its cheery rays out, as if to show them the way to go, but in the transparent darkness it seemed to be miles upon miles away, while the sturdy swimmers felt as if they got no nearer, toil as they might.

“I’m going to give him over to you, lad,” said Josh in his sing-song voice, for he had calmed down now. “I’ll soon take him again, lad, but—”

“Hooray, Josh!” cried back Will; and he struck off to the left.

“What is it, lad?”

“Boat! the boat!”

Josh wrenched himself up in the water, and looked over Dick, to see, dimly illumined by the golden ripples of the water, the outline of the boat, flush with the surface, its shape just seen by the phosphorescence, and he bore towards it.

“T’other side, Will, lad,” cried Josh as he swam vigorously over the few intervening yards, half drowning Dick by forcing his head under water again and again; but as he reached the boat’s side, which was now an inch or two above, now the same distance below, he drew the lad flat on the surface, passed his hands beneath him, got hold of the gunwale, and half rolled Dick in, half drew the boat beneath him.

“Mind he don’t come out that side, lad,” shouted Josh.

“Ay, ay!” And then Will held on by one side of the sunken boat, while Josh held on the other.

So slight was the buoyancy of the filled boat that the slightest touch in the way of pressure sent it down, and Dick could have drowned as easily there as in the open sea, but that, feeling something hard beneath him, a spark of hope shot to his brain, and he began to struggle once more.

“Keep still,” shouted Will. “Lie back with your head on the gunwale;” and Dick obeyed, content to keep his face just above water so that he might breathe.

“It arn’t much help, but it are a bit of help, eh, lad?” panted Josh. “Way oh! Steady!”

“Yes, it is a rest, Josh,” panted back Will, whose spirits rose from somewhere about despair-point to three degrees above hope; but in his effort to get a little too much support from that which was not prepared to give any, he pressed on the gunwale at his side, and sent it far below the surface, drawing from Josh the warning shout, “Way oh! Steady!”

The slightest thing sent the gunwale under—in fact, the pressure of a baby’s hand would have been sufficient to keep it below the surface; but the experienced swimmers on either side knew what they were about, and after seeing that Dick’s face was above water, and without any consultation, both being moved by the same impulse, they threw themselves on their backs beside the sunken boat, one with, his head towards her stem, the other head to stern, and after a moment’s pause each took hold of the gunwale lightly with his left hand, his right being free, and then they waited till they began to float upward.

“Ready, lad?” said Josh.

“Ready,” cried Will.

“Both together, then.”

Then there was a tremendous splashing as each turned his right-hand into a scoop and began to throw out the water with a skilful rapid motion somewhat similar to the waving of the fin of a fish; and this they kept up for quite five minutes, when Josh shouted again:

“Easy!”

There was not much result. They had dashed out a tremendous quantity of water, but nearly as much had flowed in again over the sides, as in their efforts they had sometimes dragged down the gunwale a little. Besides which a little wave had now and then broken against one or the other and sent gallons of water into the boat.

Still they had done something, and after a rest Josh cried again:

“Ready? Go ahead.”

Once more the splashing began, the water flying out of the boat like showers of liquid gold; and just when the hand-paddles were in full play the boat began to move slightly, then a little more. Neither Josh nor Will knew why, for they could not see that it sank a little lower for a few minutes and then began to rise.

“Hooray!” cried Josh hoarsely. “Well done, young un; out with it. Hooray! Oh, look at that!”

He had just awakened to the fact that Dick had come to himself sufficiently to alter his position, and was lending his aid by scooping out the water with both hands till a wave came with a slight wash and half demolished all their work.

“Keep on,” shouted Will; and once more the splashing went forward at a tremendous rate.

A handful of water, or as much as it will throw, out of a full boat is not much; but when three hands are busy ladling with all their might a tremendous amount of water can be baled out, and so it was, that when the balers rested again there were three inches of freeboard, as sailors call it, and the next wave did not lessen it a quarter of an inch.

“Ready again?” cried Josh. “Go ahead, youngster.”

The splashing went on once more; and now both Will and Josh could support themselves easily by holding on to the gunwale, the boat increasing in buoyancy every moment, while three hands scooped out the water with long and vigorous well-laden throws.

It became easier for Dick too now, for he found that he could sit astride one of the thwarts, holding on in position by twisting his legs beneath; and this gave him power to use both hands, which he joined together and scooped out the water in pints that became quarts, gallons, and bucketsfull.

“Hooray!” cried Josh with a cheer, and there was a few minutes’ rest. “A mussy me! it’s child’s play now. Look here; s’pose you roll out now and take my place. No: go out on Will’s side and hold on by him while I get in.”

Dick shivered at the idea. It seemed so horrible to give up his safe position and trust to the sea once more. But he did not hesitate long.

Taking tight hold of the bulwark, he literally rolled over the side and let himself down into the sea, with the phosphorescence making his body, limbs, and feet even, visible like those of his companion. But there was no time to study the wonders of Nature then, or even look at the way in which the keel of the boat was illumined by myriads of golden points.

“Hold on! Steady! Keep her down!” cried Josh; and then, as the two lads clung to the gunwale they were raised right up, as there was a wallow and a splash; the opposite side went down so low that it began to ship water, but only for a moment; Josh had given a spring, and rolled in over the side.

“Now, then, leave him there, Will, lad, and work round, by her starn. I’ll soon have some of the water out now.”

He began feeling about as he spoke with his hands beneath the thwarts forward, and directly after he uttered a cry of joy.

“Here she be,” he said, tearing out the half of a tin bucket that had held the bait. “Now we’ll do some work.”

As he spoke he began dipping and emptying, pouring nearly a gallon of water over the side at every turn; and in ten minutes, during which he had laboured incessantly, he had made such a change that he bade Will come in.

“Now you can bale a bit,” he said. “My arms are about dead.”

Will climbed in and took the bucket, scooping out the water with all his might, while Josh bent over Dick.

“You’re ’bout perished, my lad. Come along.”

He placed his hands under Dick’s arm-pits, and though he said that his own arms were about dead he hoisted the boy in almost without an effort, and then left him to help himself, while he resumed baling with his hands, scooping out the water pretty fast, and each moment lightening the little craft.

“Good job we’d no stone killicks aboard, Will,” he said, “or down she’d have gone.”

“There’s the buoys too wedged forward,” said Will; “they have helped to keep her up.”

“’Bout balanced the creepers,” said Josh. “It’s a question of a pound weight at a time like this. There, take it steadily, my lads. We’re safe now, and can see that the tide’s carrying of us in. Lights look bigger, eh?”

“Yes,” said Will, who was working hard with his baler. “Where shall we drive ashore?”

“Oh! pretty close to the point,” cried Josh. “I say, youngster, this is coming fishing, eh?”

“Oh! it is horrible,” said Dick, piteously.

“Not it, lad,” cried Josh. “It’s grand. Why, we might ha’ been drownded, and, what’s wuss, never washed ashore.”

Dick shivered as much from cold as misery, and gazed in the direction of the lights.

“Wonder what steamer that was as run us down!” said Josh, as the vessel he used to bale began now to scrape the wood at the bottom of the boat.

“French screw,” replied Will. “An English boat would have kept a better look-out. Why, you are cold!” he added, as he laid his hand on Dick.

“Ye–es,” said the latter with a shudder. “It is horribly cold. Shall we ever get ashore?”

“Ashore! yes,” cried Josh. “Why, they’d be able, ’most to hear us now. Let’s try.”

Taking a long breath, he placed both hands to his cheeks, and then gave vent to a dismal hail—a hail in a minor key—the cry of the sailor in dire peril, when he appeals to those on shore to come to his help, and save him from the devouring storm-beaten sea.

“Ahoy—ah!” the last syllable in a sinking inflexion of the voice a few seconds after the first.

Then again:

“Ahoy—ah!”

He went on baling till no more water could be thrown out, and the boat drifted slowly on with the tide.

Away to their left there rose the lamp-lit windows and the pier light. Lower down, too, were a couple of dim red lamps, one above the other, telling of the little dock; but no answer came from the shore.

“There’s sure to be some one on the cliff, Josh; hail again,” said Will.

“Ay, if we had a flare now, we should bring out the life-boat to fetch us in,” cried Josh. “Why, Will lad, we shall be taken a mile away from the town, and perhaps out to sea again. I wish I had an oar.”

“Ahoy—ah!”

Then again and again; and still there was no response, while they drifted slowly on over the sea, which looked to Dick, as he gazed down into its depths, alive with tiny stars, and these not the reflections of those above.

“Ahoy—ah!” shouted Josh again, with all the power of his stentorian lungs.

“They’re all asleep,” he growled; “we shall have to drift ashore and walk home. If I only had one oar I’d scull her back in no time. Ahoy—ah!”

Still no response, and the boat floated on beneath the wondrous starry sky, while every time those in the boat made the slightest movement a golden rippling film seemed to run from her sides, and die away upon the surface of the sea.

“She brimes a deal,” said Josh, in allusion to the golden water; and then, leaping up, he began to beat his breast with his arms; “I’m a-cold!” he exclaimed. “Now, then; let’s have a try;” and, placing his hands to his face once more, he uttered a tremendous hail.

“Ahoy—ah!”

Long drawn out and dismal; and then Dick’s heart gave a quick hopeful leap, for, from far away, and sounding faint and strange, came an answering hail, but not like Josh’s dismal appeal. It was a sharp, short, cheery “Ahoy!” full of promise of action.

“They’ve heard us at last!” cried Will eagerly. “That’s the coastguard, and they’ll come off in their gig, as it’s so smooth.”

“I say,” said Josh, in his low sing-song way; “haven’t I put it too strong? They’ll think somethin’ ’orrid’s wrong—that it’s a wreck, or somethin’ worse.”

“Let them!” cried Will. “It’s horrible enough to be afloat in an open boat in the dark without oar or sail. Hail again, Josh.”

“Ahoy—ah!” cried the fisherman once more, and an answer came back at once. Then another and another.

“They’ll soon get a boat,” cried Will. “You listen.”

“But they’ll never find us in the dark!” cried Dick dismally.

“Oh, won’t they!” cried Josh; “they’d find us if we was only out in a pork tub. Lor’ a mussy me, youngster, you don’t know our Cornish lads!”

“We shall keep on hailing now and then,” said Will, whose teeth were chattering in spite of his cheery tones.

“Ahoy—oy—oy!”

Very distinct but very distant the shouting of a numerous crowd of people; and now, like the tiniest and faintest of specks, lights could be seen dancing about on the shore, while all at once, one star, a vivid blue star, burst out, burning clear and bright for a few minutes, making Dick gaze wonderingly ashore.

“Blue light,” said Will.

“To hearten us up a bit, and say the boat’s coming!” cried Josh. “Ahoy—ah! Let ’em know which way to row.”

Josh shouted from time to time, and then Will gave a shout or two; and there were answering shouts that seemed to come nearer, and at last plain enough there was the light of a lanthorn rising and falling slowly, telling of its being in a boat that was being propelled by stout rowers.

“Why, my father’s sure to be in that boat!” cried Dick suddenly. “He’ll have been frightened about me, and have come off to see.”

“Shouldn’t wonder,” said Josh. “I should if I had a boy.”

“You shall hail when they get nearer,” said Will. “They couldn’t hear you yet.”

“I wish he could!” cried Dick. “He’ll have been in such trouble. Oh, I know!”

He had suddenly remembered a little silver whistle that was attached to his chain, and placing it to his lips he blew upon it a shrill ear-piercing scream.

“There, I knew he would be!” cried Dick joyously; and he gave Will a hearty clap upon the shoulder in the eagerness of his delight. For from far away, where the dim light rose and fell upon the waters, there came an answering shrill chirruping whistle.

Then Dick gave two short whistles.

Two exactly similar came in response.

“I knew he would be,” cried Dick; “but he’ll be very angry, I suppose.”

“Uncle Abram will be there too, I should say,” said Will quietly.

“Why, your father won’t be angry, my lad,” said Josh after a few minutes’ thought. “If he be it’ll be with Josh, which is me, for not keeping a bright lookout. He can’t row you for being run down, for you wasn’t neither captain nor the crew. Hillo! ahoy—ah!” he answered in return to a hail.

“I say!” said Dick suddenly; “the lights are going the other way.”

“Right, my lad; and so they have been this quarter hour past.”

“Why’s that?” said Dick.

“Because the tide’s ebbing fast.”

“And what does that mean?” cried Dick.

“As if they didn’t overhaul us we should be carried out to sea.”

“But will they find us, Will?”

“No fear of that. See how plain the light’s getting. Ahoy—ah! ahoy—ah! They’re not above a quarter of a mile away.”

Soon after the dipping of the oars could be seen as they threw up the lambent light in flashes, while an ever-widening track of sparkling water was plain to the eyes. Then the voices came asking questions.

“Ahoy! Who’s aboard there?”

“Young gent Dick!” yelled Josh back.

“Who else?”

“Will Marion!”

“Who else? Is that Josh?”

“Ahoy, lad!”

“Hurrah!” came from the boat three times, and the oars made the water flash again as they were more vigorously plied.

“That’s your sort, Master Dick!” cried Josh. “That’s Cornish, that is! They chaps is as glad at finding us as—as—as—”

“We should be at finding them,” said Will.

“Ay; that’s it!”

And so it seemed, for a few minutes more and the boat was alongside, and the wet and shivering fishers were seated in the stern-sheets, wrapped in oilskins and great-coats, their boat made fast behind, and Dick’s hand tight in that of his father, who said no word of reproach; while, after a long pull against tide, with the boat towing behind, they were landed at the head of the little harbour, where a crowd of the simple-hearted folk, many having lanthorns, saluted them with a hearty cheer, and any amount of hospitality bright have been theirs.

For these dwellers by the sea, who follow their daily toil upon the treacherous waters, are always ready with their help, to give or take in the brotherly way that has long been known in the fishing villages upon the Cornish shores.

Chapter Fourteen.Dick Temple finds it unpleasant for another to learn to smoke.There was too much to do in seeing that Dick was not likely to suffer from his long exposure for his father to say much to him that night. But there was a little conversation between Dick and Arthur, who slept in the same room.It was after the candle was out, Arthur having received strict injunctions to go quietly to bed and not disturb his brother, who was said to be in a nice sleep and perspiring well.This is what the doctor said, for he had been fetched and had felt Dick’s pulse. He had looked very grave and shaken his head, saying that fever might supervene, and ended by prescribing a stimulus under another name, and a hot bath.“Just as if I hadn’t sucked up water enough to last me for a month!” Dick had said.The people at the little hotel thought it unnecessary to send for a doctor, and when he came the doctor thought so too; but he omitted to make any remarks to that effect, contenting himself with looking very grave, and treating Dick as if his was a very serious case indeed.And now the patient was lying snugly tucked up in bed, with only his nose and one eye visible, with the exception of a tuft of his hair, and Arthur was undressing in the dark, and very carefully folding up his clothes.He had been deliberately undressing himself, brushing his hair, and going generally through a very niggling performance for nearly half an hour before Dick spoke, for the latter was enjoying the fun, as he called it, “of listening to old Taff muddling about in the dark, instead of jumping into bed at once.”At last, however, he spoke:“I’m not asleep, Taff.”“Not asleep!” cried his brother. “What! haven’t you been asleep?”“No.”“What! not all the time I’ve been undressing?”“No.”“Then it was very deceitful of you to lie there shamming.”“Didn’t sham,” said Dick.“Yes, you did, and pretended that you were very ill.”“No, I didn’t. I didn’t want the doctor fetched.”“But why did you pretend to be asleep?”“I didn’t, I tell you. I only lay still and watched you fumbling about and taking so long to undress.”“Oh, did you?” said Arthur haughtily. “Well, now lie still, sir, and go to sleep. You are ill.”“No, I’m not,” cried Dick cheerily; “only precious hot.”“Then if you are not ill you ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Arthur pettishly; “causing papa so much anxiety.”“Why, I think I behaved well,” said Dick, chuckling to himself. “If I had taken you with me I should have given father twice as much trouble and worry.”“Taken me! Why, I should not have gone,” said Arthur haughtily; “and if you had not been so fond of getting into low company all this would not have happened.”“Get out with your low company! There was nothing low about those two fishermen.”“I only call one of them a boy,” said Arthur, yawning.“Oh, very well: boy then. But I say, Taff, I wish you had been there.”“Thank you. I was much better at home.”“I mean while we were fishing. I caught such lovely mackerel, and a magnificent Polly something—I forget its name—all orange and gold and bronze, nine or ten pound weight.”“Stuff!” said Arthur contemptuously.“But I did, I tell you.”“Then where is it?”“Where is it? Oh, I don’t know. When the steamer ran us down the fish and the tackle and all went overboard, I suppose. I never saw it again.”“Then you lost all the sprats,” said Arthur sneeringly.“Sprats! Get out, you sneering old Taff! You are disappointed because you didn’t go with us. Why, there was a big turbot, and a sole or two, and a great skate with a prickly back, and gurnards and dog-fish.”“And cats?” sneered Arthur.“No, there were no cats, Taff. I say, though, I wish you had been there, only not when we got into trouble. I’ll get Josh and Will to take you next time we go.”“Next time you go!” echoed Arthur. “Why, you don’t suppose that papa will let you go again?”“Oh, yes, I do,” said Dick, yawning and speaking drowsily. “Because a chap falls off a horse once, nobody says he isn’t to ride any more. You’ll see: father will let me go. I don’t suppose—we should—should—what say?”“I didn’t speak,” said Arthur haughtily. “There, go to sleep.”“Go to sleep!” said Dick. “No—not bit sleepy. I—I’m—very comfortable, though, and—and—Ah!”That last was a heavy sigh, and Arthur Temple lay listening to his brother’s deep regular breathing for some minutes, feeling bitter and hurt at all that had taken place that day, and as if he had been thrust into a very secondary place. Then he, too, dropped asleep, and he was still sleeping soundly when Dick awoke, to jump out of bed and pull up the blind, so that he could look out on the calm sea, which looked pearly and grey and rosy in the morning sunshine. Great patches of mist were floating here and there, hiding the luggers and shutting out headlands, and everywhere the shores looked so beautiful that the lad dressed hurriedly, donning an old suit of tweed, the flannels he had worn the day before being somewhere in the kitchen, where they were hung up to dry.“I’d forgotten all about that,” said Dick to himself. “I wonder where Will Marion is, and whether he’d go for a bathe.”Dick looked out on the calm sea, and wondered how anything could have been so awful looking as it seemed the night before.“It must have been out there,” he thought, as he looked at the sun-lit bay, then at the engine-houses far up on the hills and near the cliff, and these set him thinking about his father’s mission in Cornwall.“I wonder whether father will begin looking at the mines to-day!” he said to himself. “I should like to know what time it is! I wonder whether Will Marion is up yet, and—Hallo! what’s this?”Dick had caught sight of something lying on the table beside his brother’s neat little dressing-case—a small leather affair containing brush, comb, pomatum, and scent-bottles, tooth-brushes, nail-brushes, and the usual paraphernalia used by gentlemen who shave, though Arthur Temple’s face was as smooth as that of a little girl of nine.Dick took up the something, which was of leather, and in the shape of a porte-monnaie with gilt metal edges, and on one side a gilt shield upon which was engraved, in flourishing letters, “AT.”“Old Taffs started a cigar-case,” said Dick, bursting into a guffaw. “I wonder whether—yes—five!” he added, as he opened the case and saw five cigars tucked in side by side and kept in their places by a leather band. “What a game! I’ll smug it and keep it for ever so long. He ought not to smoke.”Just then the handle of the door rattled faintly, the door was thrust open, and as Dick scuffled the cigar-case into his breast-pocket Mr Temple appeared, coming in very cautiously so as not to disturb his sick son.Dick did not know it, but his father had been in four times during the night to lay a hand upon his forehead and listen to his breathing, and he started now in astonishment.“What, up, Dick?” he said in a low voice, after a glance at the bed, where Arthur was sleeping soundly.“Yes, father; I was going to have a bathe.”“But—do you feel well?”“Yes, quite well, father. I’m all right.”Mr Temple looked puzzled for a few minutes, and then rubbed his ear, half-amused, half vexed.“Don’t wake Arthur,” he said. “Come along down and we’ll have a walk before breakfast.”“All right, father!” cried Dick smiling, and he followed his father out of the room and down-stairs, where they met the landlord.“All right again then, sir?” said the latter cheerily. “Ah! I thought our salt-water wouldn’t hurt him. Rather a rough ride for him, though, first time. When would you like breakfast, sir?”“At eight,” said Mr Temple; and after a few more words he and Dick strolled out upon the cliff.“Now are you sure, Dick, that you are quite well?” said his father. “Have you any feverish sensations?”“No, father.”“You don’t feel anything at all?”“No, father. Yes, I do,” cried Dick sharply.“Indeed! what?” cried Mr Temple.“So precious hungry.”“Oh!” said his father, smiling. “Well, here is one who will find us some refreshment.”He pointed to a man with a large can, and they were willingly supplied each with a draught of milk, after which they bent their steps towards the pier.“I have my glass, Dick,” said Mr Temple, “and I can have a good look at the shore from out there.”“Lend it to me, father,” cried Dick eagerly; and quickly focussing it, he directed it at a group of fishermen on their way down to the harbour.“Yes, there they are,” cried Dick eagerly. “There’s Josh, and there’s Will. I say, father, I don’t believe they had the doctor to them last night,” he added laughingly. “You were too frightened about me, you know.”“The danger is behind you now, and so you laugh at it, my boy,” replied Mr Temple quietly; “but you did not feel disposed to laugh last night when you were drifting in the boat. And, Dick, my boy, some day you may understand better the meaning of the word anxiety.”“Were you very anxious about me last night, father?” said Dick eagerly.“I was in agony, my boy,” said Mr Temple quietly.Dick’s lips parted, and he was about to say something, but the words would not come. His lip quivered, and the tears rose to his eyes, but he turned away his head, thrust his hands down into his pockets, and began to whistle, while his father’s brow wrinkled, and, not seeing his boy’s face, nor reading the emotion the lad was trying to hide, his face grew more and more stern, while a sensation of mingled bitterness and pain made him silent for some little time.They walked on in silence, till suddenly Mr Temple’s eyes lit upon the top of the gilt-edged cigar-case sticking out of Dick’s pocket.“What have you there, Dick?” he said rather sternly.“Where, father?”“In your pocket.”“Nothing, father. My knife and things are in the other clothes. Oh, this!” he said, suddenly remembering the case, and turning scarlet.“Yes,” said Mr Temple severely, “that! Open it.”Dick took the case from his pocket slowly and opened it.“I thought so,” said Mr Temple sternly. “Cigars for a boy not sixteen! Are you aware, sir, that what may be perfectly correct in a man is often in a boy nothing better than a vice.”“Yes, father,” said Dick humbly.“So you have taken to smoking?”“No, father.”“Don’t tell me a falsehood, sir!” cried Mr Temple hotly. “How dare you deny it when you have that case in your hand. Now, look here, sir: I want to treat my boys as lads who are growing into men. I am not going to talk to you about punishment—I don’t believe in coarse punishments. I want there to be a manly feeling of confidence between me and my boys.”Dick winced at that word confidence, and he wanted to say frankly that the case belonged to Arthur; but it seemed to him so mean to get out of a scrape by laying the blame upon another; and, besides, he knew how particular his father was about Arthur, and how he would be hurt and annoyed if he knew that his brother smoked.“I am more angry than I could say,” continued Mr Temple; “and I suppose I ought to take away that case, in which you have been foolish enough to spend your pocket-money; but I will not treat my boys as if I were a schoolmaster confiscating their playthings. Don’t let me see that again.”“No, father,” said Dick, with a sigh of relief, though he felt very miserable, and in momentary dread lest his father should ask him some pointed question to which he would be bound to reply.They walked on in silence for some minutes, and the beautiful morning and grand Cornish scenery were losing half their charms, when Mr Temple finished his remarks about the cigar-case with:“Did you smoke yesterday, Dick?”“No, father?”“Were you going to smoke to-day?”“No, father.”“Honour, Dick?”“Honour, father, and I won’t smoke till you tell me I may.”Mr Temple looked at him for a moment, and then nodded his satisfaction.By this time they were close to the harbour, where, being recognised by several of the fishermen, there was a friendly nod or two, and a smile from first one and then another, and a hearty sing-song “Good-morning!” before they reached the middle of the pier, close up to which the lugger was moored. Josh and Will were upon deck discussing what was to be done to the boat, partly stove in by the steamer on the previous evening; whether to try and patch her up themselves or to let her go to the boat hospital just beyond the harbour head, where old Isaac Pentreath, the boat-builder, put in new linings and put out new skins, and supplied schooners and brigs with knees or sheathing or tree-nail or copper bolt. He could furnish a stranger with boat or yacht to purchase or on hire.“Mornin’, sir!” sang out Josh. “Mornin’, Master Richard, sir! None the worse for last night’s work, eh?”“No, I’m all right, Josh,” said Dick. “Good-morning, Will! I say, you lost all the fish and the tackle last night, didn’t you?”“We lost all the fish, sir; but the tackle was all right; a bit tangled up, that’s all.”“Oars is the worst of it,” said Josh, “only they was old uns. Will and me’s got a good pair, though, from up at Pentreath’s. Game out of a French lugger as was wrecked.”“I want to have a look round at some of the old mine-shafts, my man,” said Mr Temple. “Who can you tell me of as a good guide?”“Josh, sir,” said Will.“Will, sir,” said Josh.“Josh knows all of them for three or four miles round.”“Not half so well as Will, sir. He’s always ’vestigatin’ of ’em,” cried Josh.“You, my lad?” said Mr Temple, turning sharply on Will, whose brown face grew red.“Yes, sir; I have a look at them sometimes.”“Prospecting, eh?” said Mr Temple, smiling.“We could both go if you like, sir,” said Josh. “We could row you to Blee Vor, and to Oldman’s Wheal and Blackbay Consols and Dynan Reor, and take you over the cliff to Revack and Rendullow and Saint Grant’s.”“Why, Dick,” said Mr Temple, “we have hit upon the right guides. When will you be at liberty, my lad?”“Any time, sir, you like. We ain’t going out with, our boots for the next few days.”“Not going out with your boots?” said Dick.“Boots, not boots,” said Josh, grinning. “I don’t mean boots as you put on your foots, but boots that you sail in—luggers, like this.”“Oh! I see,” said Dick.“A mussy me!” muttered Josh. “The ignoramusness of these here London folk, tobesure.”“Could you row me and—say, my two sons—to one of the old mining shafts after breakfast this morning?”“Think your uncle would mind, Will?” said Josh.“No,” replied Will.“Of course you will charge me for the hire of the boat,” said Mr Temple; “and here, my son ought to pay his share of the damage you met with last night;” and he slipped half a sovereign in Dick’s hand—a coin he was about to transfer to Josh, but this worthy waved him off.“No, no!” he said; “give it to young Will here. It ain’t my boot, and they warn’t my oars; and very bad ones they were.”“Here, Will, take it,” said Dick.“What for? No, I sha’n’t take it,” said Will. “The old oars were good for nothing, and we should have cut them up to burn next week. Give Josh a shilling to make himself a new gaff, and buy a shilling’s worth of snooding and hooks for yourself. Uncle Abram wouldn’t like me to take anything, I’m sure.”Mr Temple did not press the matter, but making a final appointment for the boat to be ready, he returned with Dick to the inn, where they had hardly entered the sitting-room with its table invitingly spread for breakfast, when Arthur came down, red-eyed, ill-used looking, and yawning.“Oh, you’re down first,” he said. “Is breakfast ready? I’ve got such a bad headache.”“Then you had better go and lie down again, my boy,” said his father; “nothing like bed for a headache.”“Oh, but it will be better when I have had some breakfast. It often aches like this when I come down first.”“Try getting up a little earlier, Arthur,” said Mr Temple. “There, sit down.”The coffee and some hot fried fish were brought in just then, and Arthur forgot his headache, while Dick seemed almost ravenous, his father laughing at the state of his healthy young appetite, which treated slices of bread and butter in a wonderfully mechanical manner.“Your walk seems to have sharpened you, Dick,” he said.“Oh, yes, I was so hungry.”“Have you been for a walk?” said Arthur, with his mouth full, and one finger on an awkward starchy point of his carefully spread collar.“Walk? Yes. We’ve been down to the harbour.”“Making arrangements for a boat to take us to two or three of the old mines.”“You won’t go in a boat again—after that accident?” said Arthur, staring.“Oh, yes! Such accidents are common at the sea-side, and people do not heed them,” said Mr Temple. “I’m sorry you will not be well enough to come, Arthur.”Dick looked across the table at him and laughed, emphasising the laugh by giving his brother a kick on the leg; while Arthur frowned and went on with his breakfast, clinging a little to a fancied or very slight headache, feeling that it would be a capital excuse for not going in the boat, and yet disposed to throw over the idea at once, for he was, in spite of a few shrinking sensations, exceedingly anxious to go.“Oh, by the way, Dick,” continued Mr Temple, “I am just going to say a few words more to you before letting the matter drop; and I say them for your brother to hear as well.”Dick felt what was coming, and after a quick glance at Arthur, he hung his head.“I am taking your word about that cigar-case and its contents, and I sincerely hope that you will always keep your promise in mind. A boy at your age should not even dream of using tobacco. You hear what I am saying, Arthur?”“Yes, papa,” said the latter, who was scarlet.“Bear it in mind, then, too. I found Dick with a cigar-case in his pocket this morning. I don’t ask whether you were aware of it, for I do not want to say more about the matter than to express my entire disapproval of my boys indulging in such a habit.”“Now if Taff’s half a fellow he’ll speak up and say it was his cigar-case,” thought Dick.But Arthur remained silently intent upon his coffee, while Mr Temple dismissed the subject, and looked smilingly at his boys as the meal progressed.“Ten minutes, and I shall be ready to start, Dick,” said Mr Temple, rising from the table.“I—I think I’m well enough to go, papa,” said Arthur.“Well enough! But your head?”“Oh! it’s better, much better now.”“But won’t you be alarmed as soon as you get on the water? It may be a little rough.”“Oh, I’m not afraid of the water!” said Arthur boldly; and then he winced, for Dick gave him a kick under the table.“Very well, then,” said Mr Temple, “you shall go. But you can’t go like that, Arthur. I did not see to your clothes. Haven’t you a suit of flannels or tweeds?”“No, papa.”“How absurd of you to come down dressed like that!”Arthur coloured.“You can’t go in boats and climbing up and down rocks in an Eton jacket and white collar. Here, Dick, lend him a suit of yours.”“Yes, father,” said Dick, who was enjoying what he called the fun.“Let me see; you have a cap, have you not?”“No, papa; only my hat.”“What! no straw hat?”“No, papa.”“My good boy, how can you be so absurd? Now, ask your own common sense—is a tall silk-napped hat a suitable thing to wear boating and inspecting mines?”“It—it’s a very good one, papa,” replied Arthur, for want of something better to say.“Good one! Absurd! Velvet is good, but who would go clambering up cliffs in velvet!”“Taff would if he might,” said Dick to himself, as he recalled his brother’s intense longing for a brown silk-velvet jacket, such as he had seen worn by one of his father’s friends.“Dick, go with your brother to the little shop there round the corner. I saw straw hats hanging up. Buy him one. I’m going to write a letter. There, I’ll give you a quarter of an hour.”Mr Temple left the room, and as Arthur jumped up, scarlet with indignation, to pace up and down, Dick laid his face upon his arm in a clear place and began to laugh.“It’s absurd,” said Arthur in indignant tones. “Your clothes will not fit me properly, and I hate straw hats.”“I wouldn’t go,” said Dick, lifting his merry face.“Yes,” cried Arthur furiously, “that’s just what you want, but I shall go.”“All right! I should like you to come. Go and slip on my flannels; they’re sure to be dry by now.”“Slip on your rubbishy old flannels!” cried Arthur contemptuously; “and a pretty guy I shall look. I shall be ashamed to walk along the cliff.”“Nobody will notice you, Taff,” said Dick. “Come, I say, look sharp, here’s nearly five minutes gone.”“And what’s that about the cigars?” said Arthur furiously. “You stole my case.”“I only took it for a bit of fun,” said Dick humbly. “I did not think father would have noticed it. You see he thinks it is me who smokes.”“And a good job too! Serve you right for stealing my case.”“But you might have spoken up and said it was yours,” said Dick.“I daresay I should,” said Arthur, loftily, “if you had behaved fairly; but now—”“I say, boys,” cried Mr Temple, “I shall not wait.”“Here, you go and slip on my flannels,” said Dick. “I’ll go and buy you a hat. If it fits me it will fit you.”“Get a black-and-white straw,” said Arthur. “I won’t wear a white. Such absurd nonsense of papa!”“Not to let you go boating in a chimney-pot!” said Dick, half to himself, as he hurried off. “What a rum fellow Taff is!”Unfortunately for the particular young gentleman there were no black-and-white hats, so Dick bought a coarse white straw with black ribbon round it, and then seized the opportunity—as they sold everything at the little shop, from treacle to thread, and from bacon and big boots to hardware and hats—to buy some fishing-hooks and string, finding fault with the hooks as being soft and coarse, but the man assured him that they were the very best for the sea, so he was content.“See what a disgusting fit these things are!” cried Arthur, as his brother entered.“Yes; you do look an old guy, Taff,” cried Dick maliciously. “Ha! ha! ha! why, they’ve shrunk with being dried. Here, let’s pull the legs down. You’ve put your legs through too far.”“There! Now what did I tell you?” cried Arthur, angrily. “Look at that now. I distinctly told you to bring a black-and-white straw; I can’t wear a thing like that.”“But they had no black and whites,” said Dick.“Stuff and nonsense!” cried Arthur; “they’ve plenty, and you didn’t remember.”“Now, are you ready?” said Mr Temple.“Yes, papa; but look here,” began Arthur in a depressing voice.“I was looking,” said Mr Temple; “I congratulate you upon looking so comfortable and at your ease. Now you can fish, or climb, or do anything. Mind you write home to-night for some things to be sent down. Come away.”Mr Temple went out of the room, and Dick executed a sort of triumphant war-dance round his brother, who frowned pityingly and stalked to the corner of the room, with his nose in the air, to take up his tasselled, silver-mounted cane.“No, you don’t,” said Dick, snatching the cane away and putting it back in the corner. “No canes to-day, Dandy Taff, and no gloves. Come along.”He caught his brother’s arm, thrust his own through, and half dragged, half thrust him out of the place to where his father was waiting.“Never mind your gloves, Arthur,” said the latter dryly, “or if you particularly wish to keep your hands white, perhaps you had better take care of your face as well, and borrow a parasol.”Arthur reddened and thrust his gloves back into his pockets, as he followed his father down to the little pier; but he was obliged to raise his straw hat from time to time, and smooth his well pomatumed hair, ignorant of the fact that his every act was watched by his brother, who could not refrain from laughing at the little bits of foppishness he displayed.

There was too much to do in seeing that Dick was not likely to suffer from his long exposure for his father to say much to him that night. But there was a little conversation between Dick and Arthur, who slept in the same room.

It was after the candle was out, Arthur having received strict injunctions to go quietly to bed and not disturb his brother, who was said to be in a nice sleep and perspiring well.

This is what the doctor said, for he had been fetched and had felt Dick’s pulse. He had looked very grave and shaken his head, saying that fever might supervene, and ended by prescribing a stimulus under another name, and a hot bath.

“Just as if I hadn’t sucked up water enough to last me for a month!” Dick had said.

The people at the little hotel thought it unnecessary to send for a doctor, and when he came the doctor thought so too; but he omitted to make any remarks to that effect, contenting himself with looking very grave, and treating Dick as if his was a very serious case indeed.

And now the patient was lying snugly tucked up in bed, with only his nose and one eye visible, with the exception of a tuft of his hair, and Arthur was undressing in the dark, and very carefully folding up his clothes.

He had been deliberately undressing himself, brushing his hair, and going generally through a very niggling performance for nearly half an hour before Dick spoke, for the latter was enjoying the fun, as he called it, “of listening to old Taff muddling about in the dark, instead of jumping into bed at once.”

At last, however, he spoke:

“I’m not asleep, Taff.”

“Not asleep!” cried his brother. “What! haven’t you been asleep?”

“No.”

“What! not all the time I’ve been undressing?”

“No.”

“Then it was very deceitful of you to lie there shamming.”

“Didn’t sham,” said Dick.

“Yes, you did, and pretended that you were very ill.”

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t want the doctor fetched.”

“But why did you pretend to be asleep?”

“I didn’t, I tell you. I only lay still and watched you fumbling about and taking so long to undress.”

“Oh, did you?” said Arthur haughtily. “Well, now lie still, sir, and go to sleep. You are ill.”

“No, I’m not,” cried Dick cheerily; “only precious hot.”

“Then if you are not ill you ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Arthur pettishly; “causing papa so much anxiety.”

“Why, I think I behaved well,” said Dick, chuckling to himself. “If I had taken you with me I should have given father twice as much trouble and worry.”

“Taken me! Why, I should not have gone,” said Arthur haughtily; “and if you had not been so fond of getting into low company all this would not have happened.”

“Get out with your low company! There was nothing low about those two fishermen.”

“I only call one of them a boy,” said Arthur, yawning.

“Oh, very well: boy then. But I say, Taff, I wish you had been there.”

“Thank you. I was much better at home.”

“I mean while we were fishing. I caught such lovely mackerel, and a magnificent Polly something—I forget its name—all orange and gold and bronze, nine or ten pound weight.”

“Stuff!” said Arthur contemptuously.

“But I did, I tell you.”

“Then where is it?”

“Where is it? Oh, I don’t know. When the steamer ran us down the fish and the tackle and all went overboard, I suppose. I never saw it again.”

“Then you lost all the sprats,” said Arthur sneeringly.

“Sprats! Get out, you sneering old Taff! You are disappointed because you didn’t go with us. Why, there was a big turbot, and a sole or two, and a great skate with a prickly back, and gurnards and dog-fish.”

“And cats?” sneered Arthur.

“No, there were no cats, Taff. I say, though, I wish you had been there, only not when we got into trouble. I’ll get Josh and Will to take you next time we go.”

“Next time you go!” echoed Arthur. “Why, you don’t suppose that papa will let you go again?”

“Oh, yes, I do,” said Dick, yawning and speaking drowsily. “Because a chap falls off a horse once, nobody says he isn’t to ride any more. You’ll see: father will let me go. I don’t suppose—we should—should—what say?”

“I didn’t speak,” said Arthur haughtily. “There, go to sleep.”

“Go to sleep!” said Dick. “No—not bit sleepy. I—I’m—very comfortable, though, and—and—Ah!”

That last was a heavy sigh, and Arthur Temple lay listening to his brother’s deep regular breathing for some minutes, feeling bitter and hurt at all that had taken place that day, and as if he had been thrust into a very secondary place. Then he, too, dropped asleep, and he was still sleeping soundly when Dick awoke, to jump out of bed and pull up the blind, so that he could look out on the calm sea, which looked pearly and grey and rosy in the morning sunshine. Great patches of mist were floating here and there, hiding the luggers and shutting out headlands, and everywhere the shores looked so beautiful that the lad dressed hurriedly, donning an old suit of tweed, the flannels he had worn the day before being somewhere in the kitchen, where they were hung up to dry.

“I’d forgotten all about that,” said Dick to himself. “I wonder where Will Marion is, and whether he’d go for a bathe.”

Dick looked out on the calm sea, and wondered how anything could have been so awful looking as it seemed the night before.

“It must have been out there,” he thought, as he looked at the sun-lit bay, then at the engine-houses far up on the hills and near the cliff, and these set him thinking about his father’s mission in Cornwall.

“I wonder whether father will begin looking at the mines to-day!” he said to himself. “I should like to know what time it is! I wonder whether Will Marion is up yet, and—Hallo! what’s this?”

Dick had caught sight of something lying on the table beside his brother’s neat little dressing-case—a small leather affair containing brush, comb, pomatum, and scent-bottles, tooth-brushes, nail-brushes, and the usual paraphernalia used by gentlemen who shave, though Arthur Temple’s face was as smooth as that of a little girl of nine.

Dick took up the something, which was of leather, and in the shape of a porte-monnaie with gilt metal edges, and on one side a gilt shield upon which was engraved, in flourishing letters, “AT.”

“Old Taffs started a cigar-case,” said Dick, bursting into a guffaw. “I wonder whether—yes—five!” he added, as he opened the case and saw five cigars tucked in side by side and kept in their places by a leather band. “What a game! I’ll smug it and keep it for ever so long. He ought not to smoke.”

Just then the handle of the door rattled faintly, the door was thrust open, and as Dick scuffled the cigar-case into his breast-pocket Mr Temple appeared, coming in very cautiously so as not to disturb his sick son.

Dick did not know it, but his father had been in four times during the night to lay a hand upon his forehead and listen to his breathing, and he started now in astonishment.

“What, up, Dick?” he said in a low voice, after a glance at the bed, where Arthur was sleeping soundly.

“Yes, father; I was going to have a bathe.”

“But—do you feel well?”

“Yes, quite well, father. I’m all right.”

Mr Temple looked puzzled for a few minutes, and then rubbed his ear, half-amused, half vexed.

“Don’t wake Arthur,” he said. “Come along down and we’ll have a walk before breakfast.”

“All right, father!” cried Dick smiling, and he followed his father out of the room and down-stairs, where they met the landlord.

“All right again then, sir?” said the latter cheerily. “Ah! I thought our salt-water wouldn’t hurt him. Rather a rough ride for him, though, first time. When would you like breakfast, sir?”

“At eight,” said Mr Temple; and after a few more words he and Dick strolled out upon the cliff.

“Now are you sure, Dick, that you are quite well?” said his father. “Have you any feverish sensations?”

“No, father.”

“You don’t feel anything at all?”

“No, father. Yes, I do,” cried Dick sharply.

“Indeed! what?” cried Mr Temple.

“So precious hungry.”

“Oh!” said his father, smiling. “Well, here is one who will find us some refreshment.”

He pointed to a man with a large can, and they were willingly supplied each with a draught of milk, after which they bent their steps towards the pier.

“I have my glass, Dick,” said Mr Temple, “and I can have a good look at the shore from out there.”

“Lend it to me, father,” cried Dick eagerly; and quickly focussing it, he directed it at a group of fishermen on their way down to the harbour.

“Yes, there they are,” cried Dick eagerly. “There’s Josh, and there’s Will. I say, father, I don’t believe they had the doctor to them last night,” he added laughingly. “You were too frightened about me, you know.”

“The danger is behind you now, and so you laugh at it, my boy,” replied Mr Temple quietly; “but you did not feel disposed to laugh last night when you were drifting in the boat. And, Dick, my boy, some day you may understand better the meaning of the word anxiety.”

“Were you very anxious about me last night, father?” said Dick eagerly.

“I was in agony, my boy,” said Mr Temple quietly.

Dick’s lips parted, and he was about to say something, but the words would not come. His lip quivered, and the tears rose to his eyes, but he turned away his head, thrust his hands down into his pockets, and began to whistle, while his father’s brow wrinkled, and, not seeing his boy’s face, nor reading the emotion the lad was trying to hide, his face grew more and more stern, while a sensation of mingled bitterness and pain made him silent for some little time.

They walked on in silence, till suddenly Mr Temple’s eyes lit upon the top of the gilt-edged cigar-case sticking out of Dick’s pocket.

“What have you there, Dick?” he said rather sternly.

“Where, father?”

“In your pocket.”

“Nothing, father. My knife and things are in the other clothes. Oh, this!” he said, suddenly remembering the case, and turning scarlet.

“Yes,” said Mr Temple severely, “that! Open it.”

Dick took the case from his pocket slowly and opened it.

“I thought so,” said Mr Temple sternly. “Cigars for a boy not sixteen! Are you aware, sir, that what may be perfectly correct in a man is often in a boy nothing better than a vice.”

“Yes, father,” said Dick humbly.

“So you have taken to smoking?”

“No, father.”

“Don’t tell me a falsehood, sir!” cried Mr Temple hotly. “How dare you deny it when you have that case in your hand. Now, look here, sir: I want to treat my boys as lads who are growing into men. I am not going to talk to you about punishment—I don’t believe in coarse punishments. I want there to be a manly feeling of confidence between me and my boys.”

Dick winced at that word confidence, and he wanted to say frankly that the case belonged to Arthur; but it seemed to him so mean to get out of a scrape by laying the blame upon another; and, besides, he knew how particular his father was about Arthur, and how he would be hurt and annoyed if he knew that his brother smoked.

“I am more angry than I could say,” continued Mr Temple; “and I suppose I ought to take away that case, in which you have been foolish enough to spend your pocket-money; but I will not treat my boys as if I were a schoolmaster confiscating their playthings. Don’t let me see that again.”

“No, father,” said Dick, with a sigh of relief, though he felt very miserable, and in momentary dread lest his father should ask him some pointed question to which he would be bound to reply.

They walked on in silence for some minutes, and the beautiful morning and grand Cornish scenery were losing half their charms, when Mr Temple finished his remarks about the cigar-case with:

“Did you smoke yesterday, Dick?”

“No, father?”

“Were you going to smoke to-day?”

“No, father.”

“Honour, Dick?”

“Honour, father, and I won’t smoke till you tell me I may.”

Mr Temple looked at him for a moment, and then nodded his satisfaction.

By this time they were close to the harbour, where, being recognised by several of the fishermen, there was a friendly nod or two, and a smile from first one and then another, and a hearty sing-song “Good-morning!” before they reached the middle of the pier, close up to which the lugger was moored. Josh and Will were upon deck discussing what was to be done to the boat, partly stove in by the steamer on the previous evening; whether to try and patch her up themselves or to let her go to the boat hospital just beyond the harbour head, where old Isaac Pentreath, the boat-builder, put in new linings and put out new skins, and supplied schooners and brigs with knees or sheathing or tree-nail or copper bolt. He could furnish a stranger with boat or yacht to purchase or on hire.

“Mornin’, sir!” sang out Josh. “Mornin’, Master Richard, sir! None the worse for last night’s work, eh?”

“No, I’m all right, Josh,” said Dick. “Good-morning, Will! I say, you lost all the fish and the tackle last night, didn’t you?”

“We lost all the fish, sir; but the tackle was all right; a bit tangled up, that’s all.”

“Oars is the worst of it,” said Josh, “only they was old uns. Will and me’s got a good pair, though, from up at Pentreath’s. Game out of a French lugger as was wrecked.”

“I want to have a look round at some of the old mine-shafts, my man,” said Mr Temple. “Who can you tell me of as a good guide?”

“Josh, sir,” said Will.

“Will, sir,” said Josh.

“Josh knows all of them for three or four miles round.”

“Not half so well as Will, sir. He’s always ’vestigatin’ of ’em,” cried Josh.

“You, my lad?” said Mr Temple, turning sharply on Will, whose brown face grew red.

“Yes, sir; I have a look at them sometimes.”

“Prospecting, eh?” said Mr Temple, smiling.

“We could both go if you like, sir,” said Josh. “We could row you to Blee Vor, and to Oldman’s Wheal and Blackbay Consols and Dynan Reor, and take you over the cliff to Revack and Rendullow and Saint Grant’s.”

“Why, Dick,” said Mr Temple, “we have hit upon the right guides. When will you be at liberty, my lad?”

“Any time, sir, you like. We ain’t going out with, our boots for the next few days.”

“Not going out with your boots?” said Dick.

“Boots, not boots,” said Josh, grinning. “I don’t mean boots as you put on your foots, but boots that you sail in—luggers, like this.”

“Oh! I see,” said Dick.

“A mussy me!” muttered Josh. “The ignoramusness of these here London folk, tobesure.”

“Could you row me and—say, my two sons—to one of the old mining shafts after breakfast this morning?”

“Think your uncle would mind, Will?” said Josh.

“No,” replied Will.

“Of course you will charge me for the hire of the boat,” said Mr Temple; “and here, my son ought to pay his share of the damage you met with last night;” and he slipped half a sovereign in Dick’s hand—a coin he was about to transfer to Josh, but this worthy waved him off.

“No, no!” he said; “give it to young Will here. It ain’t my boot, and they warn’t my oars; and very bad ones they were.”

“Here, Will, take it,” said Dick.

“What for? No, I sha’n’t take it,” said Will. “The old oars were good for nothing, and we should have cut them up to burn next week. Give Josh a shilling to make himself a new gaff, and buy a shilling’s worth of snooding and hooks for yourself. Uncle Abram wouldn’t like me to take anything, I’m sure.”

Mr Temple did not press the matter, but making a final appointment for the boat to be ready, he returned with Dick to the inn, where they had hardly entered the sitting-room with its table invitingly spread for breakfast, when Arthur came down, red-eyed, ill-used looking, and yawning.

“Oh, you’re down first,” he said. “Is breakfast ready? I’ve got such a bad headache.”

“Then you had better go and lie down again, my boy,” said his father; “nothing like bed for a headache.”

“Oh, but it will be better when I have had some breakfast. It often aches like this when I come down first.”

“Try getting up a little earlier, Arthur,” said Mr Temple. “There, sit down.”

The coffee and some hot fried fish were brought in just then, and Arthur forgot his headache, while Dick seemed almost ravenous, his father laughing at the state of his healthy young appetite, which treated slices of bread and butter in a wonderfully mechanical manner.

“Your walk seems to have sharpened you, Dick,” he said.

“Oh, yes, I was so hungry.”

“Have you been for a walk?” said Arthur, with his mouth full, and one finger on an awkward starchy point of his carefully spread collar.

“Walk? Yes. We’ve been down to the harbour.”

“Making arrangements for a boat to take us to two or three of the old mines.”

“You won’t go in a boat again—after that accident?” said Arthur, staring.

“Oh, yes! Such accidents are common at the sea-side, and people do not heed them,” said Mr Temple. “I’m sorry you will not be well enough to come, Arthur.”

Dick looked across the table at him and laughed, emphasising the laugh by giving his brother a kick on the leg; while Arthur frowned and went on with his breakfast, clinging a little to a fancied or very slight headache, feeling that it would be a capital excuse for not going in the boat, and yet disposed to throw over the idea at once, for he was, in spite of a few shrinking sensations, exceedingly anxious to go.

“Oh, by the way, Dick,” continued Mr Temple, “I am just going to say a few words more to you before letting the matter drop; and I say them for your brother to hear as well.”

Dick felt what was coming, and after a quick glance at Arthur, he hung his head.

“I am taking your word about that cigar-case and its contents, and I sincerely hope that you will always keep your promise in mind. A boy at your age should not even dream of using tobacco. You hear what I am saying, Arthur?”

“Yes, papa,” said the latter, who was scarlet.

“Bear it in mind, then, too. I found Dick with a cigar-case in his pocket this morning. I don’t ask whether you were aware of it, for I do not want to say more about the matter than to express my entire disapproval of my boys indulging in such a habit.”

“Now if Taff’s half a fellow he’ll speak up and say it was his cigar-case,” thought Dick.

But Arthur remained silently intent upon his coffee, while Mr Temple dismissed the subject, and looked smilingly at his boys as the meal progressed.

“Ten minutes, and I shall be ready to start, Dick,” said Mr Temple, rising from the table.

“I—I think I’m well enough to go, papa,” said Arthur.

“Well enough! But your head?”

“Oh! it’s better, much better now.”

“But won’t you be alarmed as soon as you get on the water? It may be a little rough.”

“Oh, I’m not afraid of the water!” said Arthur boldly; and then he winced, for Dick gave him a kick under the table.

“Very well, then,” said Mr Temple, “you shall go. But you can’t go like that, Arthur. I did not see to your clothes. Haven’t you a suit of flannels or tweeds?”

“No, papa.”

“How absurd of you to come down dressed like that!”

Arthur coloured.

“You can’t go in boats and climbing up and down rocks in an Eton jacket and white collar. Here, Dick, lend him a suit of yours.”

“Yes, father,” said Dick, who was enjoying what he called the fun.

“Let me see; you have a cap, have you not?”

“No, papa; only my hat.”

“What! no straw hat?”

“No, papa.”

“My good boy, how can you be so absurd? Now, ask your own common sense—is a tall silk-napped hat a suitable thing to wear boating and inspecting mines?”

“It—it’s a very good one, papa,” replied Arthur, for want of something better to say.

“Good one! Absurd! Velvet is good, but who would go clambering up cliffs in velvet!”

“Taff would if he might,” said Dick to himself, as he recalled his brother’s intense longing for a brown silk-velvet jacket, such as he had seen worn by one of his father’s friends.

“Dick, go with your brother to the little shop there round the corner. I saw straw hats hanging up. Buy him one. I’m going to write a letter. There, I’ll give you a quarter of an hour.”

Mr Temple left the room, and as Arthur jumped up, scarlet with indignation, to pace up and down, Dick laid his face upon his arm in a clear place and began to laugh.

“It’s absurd,” said Arthur in indignant tones. “Your clothes will not fit me properly, and I hate straw hats.”

“I wouldn’t go,” said Dick, lifting his merry face.

“Yes,” cried Arthur furiously, “that’s just what you want, but I shall go.”

“All right! I should like you to come. Go and slip on my flannels; they’re sure to be dry by now.”

“Slip on your rubbishy old flannels!” cried Arthur contemptuously; “and a pretty guy I shall look. I shall be ashamed to walk along the cliff.”

“Nobody will notice you, Taff,” said Dick. “Come, I say, look sharp, here’s nearly five minutes gone.”

“And what’s that about the cigars?” said Arthur furiously. “You stole my case.”

“I only took it for a bit of fun,” said Dick humbly. “I did not think father would have noticed it. You see he thinks it is me who smokes.”

“And a good job too! Serve you right for stealing my case.”

“But you might have spoken up and said it was yours,” said Dick.

“I daresay I should,” said Arthur, loftily, “if you had behaved fairly; but now—”

“I say, boys,” cried Mr Temple, “I shall not wait.”

“Here, you go and slip on my flannels,” said Dick. “I’ll go and buy you a hat. If it fits me it will fit you.”

“Get a black-and-white straw,” said Arthur. “I won’t wear a white. Such absurd nonsense of papa!”

“Not to let you go boating in a chimney-pot!” said Dick, half to himself, as he hurried off. “What a rum fellow Taff is!”

Unfortunately for the particular young gentleman there were no black-and-white hats, so Dick bought a coarse white straw with black ribbon round it, and then seized the opportunity—as they sold everything at the little shop, from treacle to thread, and from bacon and big boots to hardware and hats—to buy some fishing-hooks and string, finding fault with the hooks as being soft and coarse, but the man assured him that they were the very best for the sea, so he was content.

“See what a disgusting fit these things are!” cried Arthur, as his brother entered.

“Yes; you do look an old guy, Taff,” cried Dick maliciously. “Ha! ha! ha! why, they’ve shrunk with being dried. Here, let’s pull the legs down. You’ve put your legs through too far.”

“There! Now what did I tell you?” cried Arthur, angrily. “Look at that now. I distinctly told you to bring a black-and-white straw; I can’t wear a thing like that.”

“But they had no black and whites,” said Dick.

“Stuff and nonsense!” cried Arthur; “they’ve plenty, and you didn’t remember.”

“Now, are you ready?” said Mr Temple.

“Yes, papa; but look here,” began Arthur in a depressing voice.

“I was looking,” said Mr Temple; “I congratulate you upon looking so comfortable and at your ease. Now you can fish, or climb, or do anything. Mind you write home to-night for some things to be sent down. Come away.”

Mr Temple went out of the room, and Dick executed a sort of triumphant war-dance round his brother, who frowned pityingly and stalked to the corner of the room, with his nose in the air, to take up his tasselled, silver-mounted cane.

“No, you don’t,” said Dick, snatching the cane away and putting it back in the corner. “No canes to-day, Dandy Taff, and no gloves. Come along.”

He caught his brother’s arm, thrust his own through, and half dragged, half thrust him out of the place to where his father was waiting.

“Never mind your gloves, Arthur,” said the latter dryly, “or if you particularly wish to keep your hands white, perhaps you had better take care of your face as well, and borrow a parasol.”

Arthur reddened and thrust his gloves back into his pockets, as he followed his father down to the little pier; but he was obliged to raise his straw hat from time to time, and smooth his well pomatumed hair, ignorant of the fact that his every act was watched by his brother, who could not refrain from laughing at the little bits of foppishness he displayed.

Chapter Fifteen.An Exploring Trip along beneath the Cliffs of the Rocky Shore.Josh and Will were in waiting with the boat, not the one that had been used on the previous night, for it had been determined to send that in to hospital, but a rather larger and lighter boat, belonging to Uncle Abram; and this had been carefully mopped out, with the result that there were not quite so many fish-scales visible, though even now they were sticking tenaciously as acorn barnacles to every level spot.“All ready, sir,” said Will, coming forward; “and my uncle says you’re welcome to a boat whenever there’s one in, and that as to payment, you’re to please give our man Josh a trifle, and that’s all.”Mr Temple was about to make an objection, but he determined to see Uncle Abram, as he was called, himself, and he at once went down the steps and into the boat.“Dick,” said Arthur, plucking at his brother’s sleeve, “what’s that fisher-fellow grinning at? Is there anything particular about my clothes?”“No. He was only smiling because he was glad to see you. There, go along down.”Josh, who had been spoken of as “that fisher-fellow,” endorsed Dick’s words by singing just as if it was a Gregorian chant:“Glad to see you, sir. Nice morning for a row. Give’s your hand, sir. Mine looks mucky, but it don’t come off. It’s only tar.”“I can get down, thank you,” said Arthur haughtily, and he began to descend the perpendicular steps to where the boat slowly rose and fell, some six feet below.But though Arthur descended backwards like a bear, it was without that animal’s deliberate caution. He wanted experience too, and the knowledge that the steps, that were washed by every tide, were covered with a peculiar green weedy growth that was very slippery. He was in a hurry lest he should be helped—aid being exceedingly offensive to his dignity, and the consequence was, that when he was half-way down there was a slip and a bang, caused by Arthur finishing his descent most rapidly, and going down in a sitting position upon the bottom of the boat.“I say,” said Josh, “if that had been your foots you’d ha’ gone through.”Arthur leaped up red as a turkey-cock, and in answer to his father’s inquiry whether he was hurt, shook his head violently.“Don’t laugh, Will, don’t look at him,” said Dick, stifling his own mirth and turning his back, pretending to draw Will’s attention to the fishing cord and hooks he had bought.“All right, Master Dick!” said Will cordially; and he began to examine the hooks; but Arthur could see through the device and, kindly as it was meant, he chafed all the more. In fact, he had hurt himself a good deal, but his dignity was injured more.“Yes, they’re the best,” said Will; “but I’ve got a whiffing-line ready, and some bait, and laid it for you in the stern. I thought you’d like to fish.”“So I should,” cried Dick, looking his thanks, and thinking what a frank, manly-looking fellow his new companion was; “but we must let my brother fish to-day. He’ll pretend that he don’t care for it, but he wants to try horribly, and you must coax him a bit. Then he will.”“What’s the use of begging him?” said Will, who was rather taken aback.“Oh! because I want him to have a turn, and I hope he’ll get some luck. If he don’t he’ll be so disappointed.”“All ready?” cried Mr Temple just then, and Dick proceeded to scuffle down the steps, Arthur watching him eagerly to see him slip on the worst step. But Dick was not going to slip, and he stepped lightly on to one of the thwarts, closely followed by Will with the painter, and the next minute they were on their way to the mouth of the harbour, where there was a gentle swell.Mr Temple and Dick were smiling as they looked back at the fishing village so picturesquely nestling in the slope of the steep cliff, and they paid no heed to Arthur, who suddenly snatched at his father on one side, at the boat on the other.“What’s the matter, my boy?” cried Mr Temple.“Is—is anything wrong?” gasped Arthur. “The boat seemed sinking!”“Hor—hor!” began Josh; but Arthur turned upon him so angrily, that the fisherman changed his hoarse laugh into a grotesque cough, screwing his face up till it resembled the countenance of a wooden South Sea image, such as the Polynesians place in the prow of their canoes.“Gettin’ so wet lars night, I think,” he said in a good-tempered, apologetic growl, as he addressed himself to Will. “Sea-water don’t hurt you though.”“There we are sinking again, Arthur,” said Mr Temple, for the boat mounted the swell, as the wave came lapping the stone wall, raising them up a couple of feet, and letting them glide down four. “Let go!” he whispered. “Don’t be a coward.”Arthur snatched his hands away, and from being very white he turned red.“I suppose the sea comes in pretty rough sometimes,” said Mr Temple to Josh.“Tidyish, sir, but not bad. She gives a pretty good swish at the face o’ the harbour when the weather’s rough from the south-east, and flies over on to the boats; but Bar Lea Point yonder takes all the rough of it and shelters us like. If the young gent looks down now, he can see Tom Dodder’s Rock.”Mr Temple looked over the side.“Yes, here it is, Arthur,” he exclaimed, “about six feet beneath us.”“Five an’ half at this time o’ the tide,” said Josh correctively.“Oh! five and a half, is it?” said Mr Temple, smiling. “Can you see, Arthur?”“Yes, papa,” said the boy, looking quickly over the side and sitting up again as if he did not approve of it. “Do you mean that great rough thing?”“That’s her,” said Josh. “Tom Dodder, as used to live long ago, wouldn’t keep a good look-out, and he used to say as his boat would ride over any rock as there was on the coast. He went right over that rock to get into the harbour lots of times out of sheer impudence, and to show his mates as he wouldn’t take advice from nobody; but one morning as he was running in, heavy loaded with pilchar’s, after being out all night, and getting the biggest haul ever known, such a haul as they never get nowadays, he was coming right in, and a chap on the pier there shouts to him, ‘luff, Tom, luff! She won’t do it this tide.’ ‘Then she shall jump it,’ says Tom, who wouldn’t luff a bit, but rams his tiller so as to drive right at the rock. You see there was lots o’ room at the sides, but he wouldn’t go one way nor yet the other, out o’ cheek like. He was one o’ these sort of chaps as wouldn’t be helped, you see; and as soon as the lads on the pier heared him say as his boat should jump over the rock—lep it, you know—they began to stare, as if they expected something was coming.”“And was something coming?” said Dick, who was deeply interested, though he could not help thinking about his brother’s refusal of help.“Coming! I should think there was, for just as the boat comes up to the rock, she acts just like a Chrishtun dog, or a horse might when her master wanted her to—what does she do but rises at the rock to lep right over her, but the water seemed to fail just then, and down she come sodge!”“How?” said Arthur, who had become interested, and had not understood the comparison.“Sodge, sir, sodge; breaks her back, melts all to pieces like a tub with the hoops shook off; and the sea was covered with pilchar’s right and left, and they all went scoopin’ ’em off the bay.”“And was any one drowned?” said Arthur.“Well, sir, you see the story don’t say,” said Josh, moistening first one hand and then the other as he rowed; “but that’s why she were called Tom Dodder’s Rock; and there’s the rock, as you see, so it must be true.”As soon as they were clear of the bar at the mouth of the harbour the sea had become smoother, and in the interest he had taken in Josh’s narrative about Tom Dodder’s Rock, Arthur had forgotten a little of his discomfort and dread; but now that the boat was getting farther from land and the story was at an end, he began to show his nervousness in various ways, the more that nobody but Josh seemed to be noticing him, for his father was busy with a small glass, inspecting the various headlands and points, and looking long and earnestly at the old mines, whose position was indicated by the crumbling stone engine-houses.“Is the sea very deep here?” said Arthur to his brother, who did not answer; he was too intent upon the preparation of a fishing-line with Will.“Deep? No,” said Josh, “not here.”“But it looks deep,” said Arthur, gazing over the side.“Ah! but it ar’n’t. ’Bout three fathom, p’r’aps.”“Three fathoms!” cried Arthur. “Why, that’s eighteen feet, and over my head!”“Well, yes, you ar’n’t quite so tall as that!” cried Josh, with a bit of a chuckle.“But suppose the boat was overset?” said Arthur.“Oh, she won’t overset, my lad. You couldn’t overset her; and if she did—can you swim?”“A little—not much. I’m not very fond of the water.”“Ah! that’s a pity,” said Josh; “everybody ought to be able to swim. You’d better come down to me every morning, and I’ll take you out in the boat here and you can jump in and have a good swim round, and then come in again and dress.”Arthur looked at him in horror. The idea seemed frightful. To come out away from land, and plunge into water eighteen feet deep, where he might go to the bottom and perhaps never come up again, was enough to stun him mentally for the moment, and he turned away from Josh with a shudder.“Here you are, Taff!” said Dick just then. “Now have a try for a fish. Come and sit here; change places.”Dick jumped up and stepped over the thwarts, vacating his seat right in the stern. In fact he looked as if he could have run all round the boat easily enough on the narrow gunwale had there been any need, while, in spite of his call and the sight of the fishing-line, Arthur sat fast.“Well, why don’t you get up?”“I—I prefer staying here,” said Arthur, who looked rather white.“But you said you would like to fish!” cried Dick in a disappointed tone.“Did I? Oh yes, I remember. But I don’t wish to fish to-day. You can go on.”“Oh, all right!” said Dick lightly. “I daresay I can soon get something;” and he set the line dragging behind.“Like to be rowed over to yon mine, sir, on the cliff?” said Josh, nodding in the direction of the old shaft, the scene of his adventures with Will.“Where, my man? I can see no remains. Oh yes, I can,” he continued, as he brought his glass to bear on the regular bank-slope formed by the material that had been dug and blasted out. “I see; that’s a very old place. Yes; I should like to inspect that first.”“Me and him went down it lass week,” said Josh, as he tugged at the oar, Will having now joined him in forcing the boat along.“It’s not a deep one, then,” said Mr Temple carelessly.“Dunno how deep she be,” said Josh, “because she’s full o’ water up to the adit.”“Oh, there is an adit then?”“Yes, as was most covered over. She begins up on that level nigh the cliff top, where you can see the bit o’ brown rock with the blackberry bushes in it, and she comes out down in that creek place there where the bank’s green.”“I see!” said Mr Temple eagerly. “Ah! that must be an old place. When was it given up?”“Oh, long before we was born, or our grandfathers, I expect!” said Josh.“The more reason why I should examine it,” said Mr Temple. “I suppose,” he added aloud, “we can land here?”“Oh yes, while the sea’s like this! You couldn’t if she was rough. The rocks would come through her bottom before you knowed where you were.”“Is it going to be rough, did you say?” said Arthur eagerly.“Yes, some day,” said Josh. “Not while the wind’s off the shore.”“Taff, Taff! Here! I’ve got him!” cried Dick excitedly; and his words had such an effect upon Arthur that he started up and was nearly pitched overboard; only saving himself by making a snatch at his father, one hand knocking off Mr Temple’s hat, the other seizing his collar.“You had better practise getting your sea-legs, Master Arthur,” said his father. “There, give me your hand.”Arthur longed to refuse the proffered help, for he knew that both Josh and Will were smiling; but he felt as if the boat kept running away from beneath him, and then, out of a sheer teasing spirit, rose up again to give the soles of his feet a good push, and when it did this there was a curious giddy feeling in his head.So he held tightly by his father’s hand while he stepped over the seat, and then hurriedly went down upon his knees by where Dick was holding the line, at the end of which some fish was tugging and straining furiously.“Here you are!” cried Dick, handing the line to his brother. “He’s a beauty! A pollack, I know; and when you get him he’s all orange, and green, and gold!”“But it’s dragging the line out of my hands!” said Arthur.“Don’t let it! Hold tight!” cried Dick, whose cheeks were flushed with excitement.“But it cuts my hands,” said Arthur pettishly.“Never mind that! All the better! It’s a big one! Let a little more line out.”Arthur obeyed, and the fish darted off so vigorously that it would have carried off all there was had not Dick checked it.“Now, hold tight!” cried Dick. “Play him. Now begin to haul in.”“But the line’s all messy,” said Arthur, in tones full of disgust.“Oh, what a fellow you are! Now, then, never mind the line being messy; haul away!”“What, pull?” said Arthur feebly.“To be sure! Pull away hand over hand. I know he’s a monster.”Mr Temple and the little crew of two were so intent upon the old mine that they paid no heed to the boys. Hence it was that Dick took the lead and gave his directions to his brother how to catch fish, in a manner that would have been heartily condemned by both Josh and Will, whose ideas of playing a fish consisted in hauling it aboard as soon as they could.“Oh, you’re not half hauling it in!” cried Dick, as he grew out of patience with his brother’s fumbling ways. “You’ll lose it.”“You be quiet and let me alone,” said Arthur quickly. “I daresay I know as much about sea-fishing as you do.”“Then why don’t you haul in the line?”“Because the fish won’t come, stupid! There, you see, he will now!” continued Arthur, hauling pretty fast, as the captive began to give way. “Oh, how nasty! I’m getting my knees quite wet.”Quite! For he had remained kneeling in the bottom of the boat, too much excited to notice that he was drawing the dripping line over his legs, and making a little pool about his knees.“Never mind the wet—haul!” cried Dick; and he hardly keep his fingers off the line.Urged in this way by his brother, Arthur went on pulling the line in feebly enough, till the fish made a fresh dash for liberty.“Oh!” cried Arthur; “it’s cutting my hands horribly. There—he’s gone!”Not quite, for Dick made a dash at the flying line, which was rushing over the gunwale, caught it in time, and began a steady pull at it till the fish was more exhausted, and he could turn its head, when he pulled the line in rapidly, and the boys could soon after see the bright silvery fish darting here and there.“Got a gaff, Will?” shouted Dick.“There’s the old one stuck in the side, sir,” replied the lad; and, holding on with one hand, Dick reached the gaff-hook with the other; but though he got his fish close up to the stern two or three times, he found that he was not experienced fisherman enough to hold the line with his left hand and gaff it with the other.“Here!” he cried at last, for Arthur was looking on helplessly. “You catch hold of the line while I gaff him!”Arthur obeyed with a grimace indicative of disgust as he felt the wet and slippery line; and, in obedience to his brother’s orders, he dragged the fish close in; but just as Dick made a lunge at it with the big hook it darted off again, cutting Arthur’s hands horribly. The next time it was dragged in Dick was successful, getting his hook in its gills, and hoisting it on board, flapping and bounding about as if filled with so much steel spring.“Hallo! you’ve got one then, Dick!” cried his father, turning round; Josh and Will having been quietly observant the while.“Yes, father!” cried Dick in the most disinterested way; “Arthur held him and I gaffed him. Isn’t it a beauty? What is it, Josh—a silver pollack?”“A-mussy me, no!” cried Josh, who had ceased rowing. “That be no pollack; that be a bass. Dessay there be a shoal out there.”“Mind his back tin, Master Dick!” cried Will excitedly, as he saw Dick take hold of his prize.“Yes, I’ll mind,” said Dick. “Here, never mind, it being wet,” he went on; “catch hold of him with both hands, Arthur, I’ll get out the hook.”“Oh—oh—oh!” shouted Arthur, snatching back his hands. “It pricks!”“What pricks?” cried Dick, seizing the fish and throwing it down again sharply. “Oh, I say, it’s like a knife.”“Shall I take it off, sir?” said Will.“No, I’m not going to be beaten!” cried Dick, whose hand was bleeding. “I didn’t know what you meant. Why, it’s a big stickleback!”He took hold of the prize more cautiously, disengaged the hook, and then laid the fish before his father—a fine salmon bass of eight or nine pounds.“Bravo, my boy!” said Mr Temple; “but is your hand much cut?”“Oh, no! it’s nothing,” said Dick, hastily twisting his handkerchief round his hurt. “I say, isn’t it a beauty? But what is the use of that fin?”“Means of defence, I suppose,” said his father, raising the keen perch-like back fin of the fish.—“But there, we are close inshore now. Run her in, my men.”The next minute the boat was grating upon the rocks. Will leaped out and held it steady, for the waves rocked it about a good deal; and the party landed close to the adit, the boat being moored with a grapnel; and then they all walked up to the hole in the foot of the rock, through which Josh and Will had made their escape after their adventure in the mine-shaft a short time before.

Josh and Will were in waiting with the boat, not the one that had been used on the previous night, for it had been determined to send that in to hospital, but a rather larger and lighter boat, belonging to Uncle Abram; and this had been carefully mopped out, with the result that there were not quite so many fish-scales visible, though even now they were sticking tenaciously as acorn barnacles to every level spot.

“All ready, sir,” said Will, coming forward; “and my uncle says you’re welcome to a boat whenever there’s one in, and that as to payment, you’re to please give our man Josh a trifle, and that’s all.”

Mr Temple was about to make an objection, but he determined to see Uncle Abram, as he was called, himself, and he at once went down the steps and into the boat.

“Dick,” said Arthur, plucking at his brother’s sleeve, “what’s that fisher-fellow grinning at? Is there anything particular about my clothes?”

“No. He was only smiling because he was glad to see you. There, go along down.”

Josh, who had been spoken of as “that fisher-fellow,” endorsed Dick’s words by singing just as if it was a Gregorian chant:

“Glad to see you, sir. Nice morning for a row. Give’s your hand, sir. Mine looks mucky, but it don’t come off. It’s only tar.”

“I can get down, thank you,” said Arthur haughtily, and he began to descend the perpendicular steps to where the boat slowly rose and fell, some six feet below.

But though Arthur descended backwards like a bear, it was without that animal’s deliberate caution. He wanted experience too, and the knowledge that the steps, that were washed by every tide, were covered with a peculiar green weedy growth that was very slippery. He was in a hurry lest he should be helped—aid being exceedingly offensive to his dignity, and the consequence was, that when he was half-way down there was a slip and a bang, caused by Arthur finishing his descent most rapidly, and going down in a sitting position upon the bottom of the boat.

“I say,” said Josh, “if that had been your foots you’d ha’ gone through.”

Arthur leaped up red as a turkey-cock, and in answer to his father’s inquiry whether he was hurt, shook his head violently.

“Don’t laugh, Will, don’t look at him,” said Dick, stifling his own mirth and turning his back, pretending to draw Will’s attention to the fishing cord and hooks he had bought.

“All right, Master Dick!” said Will cordially; and he began to examine the hooks; but Arthur could see through the device and, kindly as it was meant, he chafed all the more. In fact, he had hurt himself a good deal, but his dignity was injured more.

“Yes, they’re the best,” said Will; “but I’ve got a whiffing-line ready, and some bait, and laid it for you in the stern. I thought you’d like to fish.”

“So I should,” cried Dick, looking his thanks, and thinking what a frank, manly-looking fellow his new companion was; “but we must let my brother fish to-day. He’ll pretend that he don’t care for it, but he wants to try horribly, and you must coax him a bit. Then he will.”

“What’s the use of begging him?” said Will, who was rather taken aback.

“Oh! because I want him to have a turn, and I hope he’ll get some luck. If he don’t he’ll be so disappointed.”

“All ready?” cried Mr Temple just then, and Dick proceeded to scuffle down the steps, Arthur watching him eagerly to see him slip on the worst step. But Dick was not going to slip, and he stepped lightly on to one of the thwarts, closely followed by Will with the painter, and the next minute they were on their way to the mouth of the harbour, where there was a gentle swell.

Mr Temple and Dick were smiling as they looked back at the fishing village so picturesquely nestling in the slope of the steep cliff, and they paid no heed to Arthur, who suddenly snatched at his father on one side, at the boat on the other.

“What’s the matter, my boy?” cried Mr Temple.

“Is—is anything wrong?” gasped Arthur. “The boat seemed sinking!”

“Hor—hor!” began Josh; but Arthur turned upon him so angrily, that the fisherman changed his hoarse laugh into a grotesque cough, screwing his face up till it resembled the countenance of a wooden South Sea image, such as the Polynesians place in the prow of their canoes.

“Gettin’ so wet lars night, I think,” he said in a good-tempered, apologetic growl, as he addressed himself to Will. “Sea-water don’t hurt you though.”

“There we are sinking again, Arthur,” said Mr Temple, for the boat mounted the swell, as the wave came lapping the stone wall, raising them up a couple of feet, and letting them glide down four. “Let go!” he whispered. “Don’t be a coward.”

Arthur snatched his hands away, and from being very white he turned red.

“I suppose the sea comes in pretty rough sometimes,” said Mr Temple to Josh.

“Tidyish, sir, but not bad. She gives a pretty good swish at the face o’ the harbour when the weather’s rough from the south-east, and flies over on to the boats; but Bar Lea Point yonder takes all the rough of it and shelters us like. If the young gent looks down now, he can see Tom Dodder’s Rock.”

Mr Temple looked over the side.

“Yes, here it is, Arthur,” he exclaimed, “about six feet beneath us.”

“Five an’ half at this time o’ the tide,” said Josh correctively.

“Oh! five and a half, is it?” said Mr Temple, smiling. “Can you see, Arthur?”

“Yes, papa,” said the boy, looking quickly over the side and sitting up again as if he did not approve of it. “Do you mean that great rough thing?”

“That’s her,” said Josh. “Tom Dodder, as used to live long ago, wouldn’t keep a good look-out, and he used to say as his boat would ride over any rock as there was on the coast. He went right over that rock to get into the harbour lots of times out of sheer impudence, and to show his mates as he wouldn’t take advice from nobody; but one morning as he was running in, heavy loaded with pilchar’s, after being out all night, and getting the biggest haul ever known, such a haul as they never get nowadays, he was coming right in, and a chap on the pier there shouts to him, ‘luff, Tom, luff! She won’t do it this tide.’ ‘Then she shall jump it,’ says Tom, who wouldn’t luff a bit, but rams his tiller so as to drive right at the rock. You see there was lots o’ room at the sides, but he wouldn’t go one way nor yet the other, out o’ cheek like. He was one o’ these sort of chaps as wouldn’t be helped, you see; and as soon as the lads on the pier heared him say as his boat should jump over the rock—lep it, you know—they began to stare, as if they expected something was coming.”

“And was something coming?” said Dick, who was deeply interested, though he could not help thinking about his brother’s refusal of help.

“Coming! I should think there was, for just as the boat comes up to the rock, she acts just like a Chrishtun dog, or a horse might when her master wanted her to—what does she do but rises at the rock to lep right over her, but the water seemed to fail just then, and down she come sodge!”

“How?” said Arthur, who had become interested, and had not understood the comparison.

“Sodge, sir, sodge; breaks her back, melts all to pieces like a tub with the hoops shook off; and the sea was covered with pilchar’s right and left, and they all went scoopin’ ’em off the bay.”

“And was any one drowned?” said Arthur.

“Well, sir, you see the story don’t say,” said Josh, moistening first one hand and then the other as he rowed; “but that’s why she were called Tom Dodder’s Rock; and there’s the rock, as you see, so it must be true.”

As soon as they were clear of the bar at the mouth of the harbour the sea had become smoother, and in the interest he had taken in Josh’s narrative about Tom Dodder’s Rock, Arthur had forgotten a little of his discomfort and dread; but now that the boat was getting farther from land and the story was at an end, he began to show his nervousness in various ways, the more that nobody but Josh seemed to be noticing him, for his father was busy with a small glass, inspecting the various headlands and points, and looking long and earnestly at the old mines, whose position was indicated by the crumbling stone engine-houses.

“Is the sea very deep here?” said Arthur to his brother, who did not answer; he was too intent upon the preparation of a fishing-line with Will.

“Deep? No,” said Josh, “not here.”

“But it looks deep,” said Arthur, gazing over the side.

“Ah! but it ar’n’t. ’Bout three fathom, p’r’aps.”

“Three fathoms!” cried Arthur. “Why, that’s eighteen feet, and over my head!”

“Well, yes, you ar’n’t quite so tall as that!” cried Josh, with a bit of a chuckle.

“But suppose the boat was overset?” said Arthur.

“Oh, she won’t overset, my lad. You couldn’t overset her; and if she did—can you swim?”

“A little—not much. I’m not very fond of the water.”

“Ah! that’s a pity,” said Josh; “everybody ought to be able to swim. You’d better come down to me every morning, and I’ll take you out in the boat here and you can jump in and have a good swim round, and then come in again and dress.”

Arthur looked at him in horror. The idea seemed frightful. To come out away from land, and plunge into water eighteen feet deep, where he might go to the bottom and perhaps never come up again, was enough to stun him mentally for the moment, and he turned away from Josh with a shudder.

“Here you are, Taff!” said Dick just then. “Now have a try for a fish. Come and sit here; change places.”

Dick jumped up and stepped over the thwarts, vacating his seat right in the stern. In fact he looked as if he could have run all round the boat easily enough on the narrow gunwale had there been any need, while, in spite of his call and the sight of the fishing-line, Arthur sat fast.

“Well, why don’t you get up?”

“I—I prefer staying here,” said Arthur, who looked rather white.

“But you said you would like to fish!” cried Dick in a disappointed tone.

“Did I? Oh yes, I remember. But I don’t wish to fish to-day. You can go on.”

“Oh, all right!” said Dick lightly. “I daresay I can soon get something;” and he set the line dragging behind.

“Like to be rowed over to yon mine, sir, on the cliff?” said Josh, nodding in the direction of the old shaft, the scene of his adventures with Will.

“Where, my man? I can see no remains. Oh yes, I can,” he continued, as he brought his glass to bear on the regular bank-slope formed by the material that had been dug and blasted out. “I see; that’s a very old place. Yes; I should like to inspect that first.”

“Me and him went down it lass week,” said Josh, as he tugged at the oar, Will having now joined him in forcing the boat along.

“It’s not a deep one, then,” said Mr Temple carelessly.

“Dunno how deep she be,” said Josh, “because she’s full o’ water up to the adit.”

“Oh, there is an adit then?”

“Yes, as was most covered over. She begins up on that level nigh the cliff top, where you can see the bit o’ brown rock with the blackberry bushes in it, and she comes out down in that creek place there where the bank’s green.”

“I see!” said Mr Temple eagerly. “Ah! that must be an old place. When was it given up?”

“Oh, long before we was born, or our grandfathers, I expect!” said Josh.

“The more reason why I should examine it,” said Mr Temple. “I suppose,” he added aloud, “we can land here?”

“Oh yes, while the sea’s like this! You couldn’t if she was rough. The rocks would come through her bottom before you knowed where you were.”

“Is it going to be rough, did you say?” said Arthur eagerly.

“Yes, some day,” said Josh. “Not while the wind’s off the shore.”

“Taff, Taff! Here! I’ve got him!” cried Dick excitedly; and his words had such an effect upon Arthur that he started up and was nearly pitched overboard; only saving himself by making a snatch at his father, one hand knocking off Mr Temple’s hat, the other seizing his collar.

“You had better practise getting your sea-legs, Master Arthur,” said his father. “There, give me your hand.”

Arthur longed to refuse the proffered help, for he knew that both Josh and Will were smiling; but he felt as if the boat kept running away from beneath him, and then, out of a sheer teasing spirit, rose up again to give the soles of his feet a good push, and when it did this there was a curious giddy feeling in his head.

So he held tightly by his father’s hand while he stepped over the seat, and then hurriedly went down upon his knees by where Dick was holding the line, at the end of which some fish was tugging and straining furiously.

“Here you are!” cried Dick, handing the line to his brother. “He’s a beauty! A pollack, I know; and when you get him he’s all orange, and green, and gold!”

“But it’s dragging the line out of my hands!” said Arthur.

“Don’t let it! Hold tight!” cried Dick, whose cheeks were flushed with excitement.

“But it cuts my hands,” said Arthur pettishly.

“Never mind that! All the better! It’s a big one! Let a little more line out.”

Arthur obeyed, and the fish darted off so vigorously that it would have carried off all there was had not Dick checked it.

“Now, hold tight!” cried Dick. “Play him. Now begin to haul in.”

“But the line’s all messy,” said Arthur, in tones full of disgust.

“Oh, what a fellow you are! Now, then, never mind the line being messy; haul away!”

“What, pull?” said Arthur feebly.

“To be sure! Pull away hand over hand. I know he’s a monster.”

Mr Temple and the little crew of two were so intent upon the old mine that they paid no heed to the boys. Hence it was that Dick took the lead and gave his directions to his brother how to catch fish, in a manner that would have been heartily condemned by both Josh and Will, whose ideas of playing a fish consisted in hauling it aboard as soon as they could.

“Oh, you’re not half hauling it in!” cried Dick, as he grew out of patience with his brother’s fumbling ways. “You’ll lose it.”

“You be quiet and let me alone,” said Arthur quickly. “I daresay I know as much about sea-fishing as you do.”

“Then why don’t you haul in the line?”

“Because the fish won’t come, stupid! There, you see, he will now!” continued Arthur, hauling pretty fast, as the captive began to give way. “Oh, how nasty! I’m getting my knees quite wet.”

Quite! For he had remained kneeling in the bottom of the boat, too much excited to notice that he was drawing the dripping line over his legs, and making a little pool about his knees.

“Never mind the wet—haul!” cried Dick; and he hardly keep his fingers off the line.

Urged in this way by his brother, Arthur went on pulling the line in feebly enough, till the fish made a fresh dash for liberty.

“Oh!” cried Arthur; “it’s cutting my hands horribly. There—he’s gone!”

Not quite, for Dick made a dash at the flying line, which was rushing over the gunwale, caught it in time, and began a steady pull at it till the fish was more exhausted, and he could turn its head, when he pulled the line in rapidly, and the boys could soon after see the bright silvery fish darting here and there.

“Got a gaff, Will?” shouted Dick.

“There’s the old one stuck in the side, sir,” replied the lad; and, holding on with one hand, Dick reached the gaff-hook with the other; but though he got his fish close up to the stern two or three times, he found that he was not experienced fisherman enough to hold the line with his left hand and gaff it with the other.

“Here!” he cried at last, for Arthur was looking on helplessly. “You catch hold of the line while I gaff him!”

Arthur obeyed with a grimace indicative of disgust as he felt the wet and slippery line; and, in obedience to his brother’s orders, he dragged the fish close in; but just as Dick made a lunge at it with the big hook it darted off again, cutting Arthur’s hands horribly. The next time it was dragged in Dick was successful, getting his hook in its gills, and hoisting it on board, flapping and bounding about as if filled with so much steel spring.

“Hallo! you’ve got one then, Dick!” cried his father, turning round; Josh and Will having been quietly observant the while.

“Yes, father!” cried Dick in the most disinterested way; “Arthur held him and I gaffed him. Isn’t it a beauty? What is it, Josh—a silver pollack?”

“A-mussy me, no!” cried Josh, who had ceased rowing. “That be no pollack; that be a bass. Dessay there be a shoal out there.”

“Mind his back tin, Master Dick!” cried Will excitedly, as he saw Dick take hold of his prize.

“Yes, I’ll mind,” said Dick. “Here, never mind, it being wet,” he went on; “catch hold of him with both hands, Arthur, I’ll get out the hook.”

“Oh—oh—oh!” shouted Arthur, snatching back his hands. “It pricks!”

“What pricks?” cried Dick, seizing the fish and throwing it down again sharply. “Oh, I say, it’s like a knife.”

“Shall I take it off, sir?” said Will.

“No, I’m not going to be beaten!” cried Dick, whose hand was bleeding. “I didn’t know what you meant. Why, it’s a big stickleback!”

He took hold of the prize more cautiously, disengaged the hook, and then laid the fish before his father—a fine salmon bass of eight or nine pounds.

“Bravo, my boy!” said Mr Temple; “but is your hand much cut?”

“Oh, no! it’s nothing,” said Dick, hastily twisting his handkerchief round his hurt. “I say, isn’t it a beauty? But what is the use of that fin?”

“Means of defence, I suppose,” said his father, raising the keen perch-like back fin of the fish.—“But there, we are close inshore now. Run her in, my men.”

The next minute the boat was grating upon the rocks. Will leaped out and held it steady, for the waves rocked it about a good deal; and the party landed close to the adit, the boat being moored with a grapnel; and then they all walked up to the hole in the foot of the rock, through which Josh and Will had made their escape after their adventure in the mine-shaft a short time before.

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