Vane so frequently got into hot-water with his experiments that he more
than once made vows. But his promises were as unstable as water, and he
soon forgot them. He had vowed that he would be contented with things
as they were, but his active mind was soon at work contriving.
He and Macey had borrowed Rounds the miller's boat one day for a row.
They were out having a desultory wander down by the river, when they
came upon the bluff churchwarden himself, and he gave them a friendly
nod as he stood by the roadside talking to Chakes about something
connected with the church; and, as the boys went on, Macey said,
laughing, "I say, Weathercock, you're such a fellow for making
improvements, why don't you take Chakes in hand, and make him look like
the miller?"
"They are a contrast, certainly," said Vane, glancing back at the
gloomy, bent form of the sexton, as he stood looking up sidewise at the
big, squarely-built, wholesome-looking miller. "But I couldn't improve
him. I say, what shall we do this afternoon?"
"I don't know," said Macey. "Two can't play cricket comfortably. It's
stupid to bowl and field."
"Well, and it's dull work to bat, and be kept waiting while the ball is
fetched. Let's go to my place. I want to try an experiment."
"No, thank you," cried Macey. "Don't catch me holding wires, or being
set to pound something in a mortar. I know your little games, Vane Lee.
You've caught me once or twice before."
"Well, let's do something. I hate wasting time."
"Come and tease old Gil; or, let's go and sit down somewhere near
Distie. He's in the meadows, and it will make him mad as mad if you go
near him."
"Try something better," said Vane.
"Oh, I don't know. We might go blackberrying, only one seems to be
getting too old for that sort of thing. Let's hire two nags, and have a
ride."
"Well, young gents, going my way?" cried the miller, from behind them,
as he strode along in their rear.
"Where are you going?" said Vane.
"Down to the mill. The wind won't blow, so I'm obliged to make up for
it at the river mill, only the water is getting short. That's the best
of having two strings to your bow, my lads. By the time the water gets
low, perhaps the wind may rise, and turn one's sails again. When I
can't get wind or water there's no flour, and if there's no flour
there'll be no bread."
"That's cheerful," cried Macey.
"Yes; keeps one back, my lad. Two strings to one's bow arn't enough.
Say, Master Lee, you're a clever sort of chap, and make all kinds of
'ventions; can't you set me going with a steam engine thing as 'll make
my stones run, when there's no water?"
"I think I could," said Vane, eagerly.
"I thowt you'd say that, lad," cried the miller, laughing; "but I've
heard say as there's blowings-up--explosions--over your works sometimes,
eh?"
"Oh, that was an accident," cried Vane.
"And accidents happen in the best regulated families, they say," cried
the miller. "Well, I must think about it. Cost a mint o' money to do
that."
By this time they had reached the long, low, weather-boarded, wooden
building, which spanned the river like a bridge, and looked curiously
picturesque among the ancient willows growing on the banks, and with
their roots laving in the water.
It was a singular-looking place, built principally on a narrow island in
the centre of the stream, and its floodgates and dam on either side of
the island; while heavy wheels, all green with slimy growth, and looking
grim and dangerous as they turned beneath the mill on either side, kept
up a curious rumbling and splashing sound that was full of suggestions
of what the consequences would be should anyone be swept over them by
the sluggish current in the dam, and down into the dark pool below.
"Haven't seen you, gents, lately, for a day's fishing," said the miller,
as he entered the swing-gate, and held it open for the lads to follow,
which, having nothing else to do, they did, as a matter of course.
"No," said Macey; "been too busy over our books."
The churchwarden laughed.
"Oh, yes, I suppose so, sir. You look just the sort of boy who would
work himself to death over his learning. Tired of fishing?"
"I'm not," said Vane. "Have there been many up here lately?"
"Swarms," said the miller. "Pool's alive with roach and chub sometimes,
and up in the dam for hundreds of yards you may hear the big tench
sucking and smacking their lips among the weeds, as if they was waiting
for a bit of paste or a fat worm."
"You'll give us a day's fishing any time we like to come then, Mr
Rounds?" said Vane.
"Two, if you like, my lads. Sorry I can't fit you up with tackle, or
you might have a turn now."
"Oh, I shan't come and fish that way," cried Macey. "I've tried too
often. You make all kinds of preparations, and then you come, and the
fish won't bite. They never will when I try."
"Don't try enough, do he, Master Lee?"
"Yes, I do," cried Macey. "I like fishing with a net, or I should like
to have a try if you ran all the water out of the dam, so that we could
see what fish were in."
"Yes, I suppose you'd like that."
"Hi! Look there, Vane," cried Macey, pointing to a newly-painted boat
fastened by its chain to one of the willows. "I'm ready for a row if
Mr Rounds would lend us the boat."
"Nay, you'd go and drown yourself and Master Vane too."
"Pooh! as if we couldn't row. I say, Mr Rounds, do lend us the boat."
"Oh, well, I don't mind, my lads, if you'll promise to be steady, and
not get playing any games."
"Oh, I'll promise, and there's no need to ask Lee. He's as steady as
you are."
"All right, lads; you can have her. Oars is inside the mill. I'll show
you. Want to go up or down?"
"I don't care," said Macey.
"If you want to go down stream, I shall have to slide the boat down the
overshoot. Better go up, and then you'll have the stream with you
coming back. Hello, here's some more of you."
This was on his seeing Distin and Gilmore coming in the other direction,
and Macey shouted directly:
"Hi! We've got the boat. Come and have a row."
Gilmore was willing at once, but Distin held off for a few moments, but
the sight of the newly-painted boat, the clear water of the sunlit
river, and the glowing tints of the trees up where the stream wound
along near the edge of the wood, were too much for him, and he took the
lead at once, and began to unfasten the chain.
"You can fasten her up again when you bring her back," said the miller,
as he led the way into the mill.
"I do like the smell of the freshly-ground flour," cried Macey, as they
passed the door. "But, I say, Vane Lee, hadn't we better have gone
alone? You see if those two don't monopolise the oars till they're
tired, and then we shall have to row them just where they please."
"Never mind," said Vane; "we shall be on the water."
"I'll help you pitch them in, if they turn nasty, as people call it,
down here."
"There you are, young gents, and the boat-hook, too," said the miller,
opening his office door, and pointing to the oars. "Brand noo uns I've
just had made, so don't break 'em."
"All right, we'll take care," said Macey; and, after a few words of
thanks, the two lads bore out the oars, and crossed a narrow plank
gangway in front of the mill to the island, where Distin and Gilmore
were seated in the boat.
"Who's going to row?" said Macey.
"We are," replied Distin, quietly taking off his jacket, Gilmore
following suit, and Macey gave Vane a look, which plainly said, "Told
you so," as he settled himself down in the stern.
The start was not brilliant, for, on pushing off, Distin did not take
his time from Gilmore, who was before him, and consequently gave him a
tremendous thump on the back with both fists.
"I say," roared Gilmore, "we haven't come out crab-catching."
Whereupon Macey burst into a roar of laughter, and Vane smiled.
Distin, who was exceedingly nervous and excited, looked up sharply,
ignored Macey, and addressed Vane.
"Idiot!" he cried. "I suppose you never had an accident in rowing."
"Lots," said Vane, with his face flushing, but he kept his temper.
"Perhaps you had better take the oar yourself."
"Try the other way, Mr Distin, sir," cried the miller, in his big,
bluff voice; and, looking up, they could see his big, jolly face at a
little trap-like window high up in the mill.
"Eh! Oh, thank you," said Distin, in a hurried, nervous way, and,
rising in his seat, he was in the act of turning round to sit down with
his back to Gilmore, when a fresh roar of laughter from Macey showed him
that the miller was having a grin at his expense.
Just then the little window shut with a sharp clap, and Distin
hesitated, and glanced at the shore as if, had it been closer, he would
have leaped out of the boat, and walked off. But they were a good
boat's length distant, and he sat down again with an angry scowl on his
face, and began to pull.
"In for a row again," said Gilmore to himself. "Why cannot a fellow
bear a bit of banter like that!"
To make things go more easily, Gilmore reversed the regular order of
rowing, and took his time, as well as he could, from Distin, and the
boat went on, the latter tugging viciously at the scull he held. The
consequence was, that, as there was no rudder and the river was not
straight, there was a tendency on the part of the boat to run its nose
into the bank, in spite of all that Gilmore could do to prevent it; and
at last Macey seized the boat-hook, and put it over the stern.
"Look here," he cried, "I daresay I can steer you a bit with this."
But his act only increased the annoyance of Distin, who had been nursing
his rage, and trying to fit the cause in some way upon Vane.
"Put that thing down, idiot!" he cried, fiercely, "and sit still in the
boat. Do you think I am going to be made the laughing-stock of
everybody by your insane antics?"
"Oh, all right, Colonist," said Macey, good-humouredly; "only some
people would put the pole down on your head for calling 'em idiots."
"What!" roared Distin; "do you dare to threaten me?"
"Oh, dear, no, sir. I beg your pardon, sir. I'm very sorry, sir. I
didn't come for to go for to--"
"Clown!" cried Distin, contemptuously.
"Oh, I say, Vane, we are having a jolly ride," whispered Macey, but loud
enough for Distin to hear, and the Creole's dark eyes flashed at them.
"I say, Distin," said Gilmore in a remonstrant growl, "don't be so
precious peppery about nothing. Aleck didn't mean any harm."
"That's right! Take his part," cried Distin, making the water foam, as
he pulled hard. "You fellows form a regular cabal, and make a dead set
at me. But I'm not afraid. You've got the wrong man to deal with,
and--confound the wretched boat!"
He jumped up, and raising the scull, made a sharp dig with it at the
shore, and would have broken it, had not Gilmore checked him.
"Don't!" he cried, "you will snap the blade."
For, having nearly stopped rowing as he turned to protest, the natural
result was that the boat's nose was dragged round, and the sharp prow
ran right into the soft overhanging bank and stuck fast.
Vane tried to check himself, but a hearty fit of laughter would come,
one which proved contagious, for Macey and Gilmore both joined in, the
former rolling about and giving vent to such a peculiar set of grunts
and squeaks of delight, as increased the others' mirth, and made Distin
throw down his scull, and jump ashore, stamping with rage.
"No, no, Distie, don't do that," cried Gilmore, wiping his eyes. "Come
back."
"I won't ride with such a set of fools," panted Distin, hoarsely. "You
did it on purpose to annoy me."
He took a few sharp steps away, biting his upper lip with rage, and the
laughter ceased in the boat.
"I say, Distin," cried Vane; and the lad faced round instantly with a
vindictive look at the speaker as he walked sharply back to the boat,
and sprang in.
"No, I will not go," he cried. "That's what you want--to get rid of me,
but you've found your match."
He sprang in so sharply that the boat gave a lurch and freed itself from
the bank, gliding off into deep water again; and as Distin resumed his
scull, Gilmore waited for it to dip, and then pulled, so that solely by
his skill--for Distin was very inexperienced as an oarsman--the boat was
kept pretty straight, and they went on up stream in silence.
Macey gazed at Gilmore, who was of course facing him, but he could not
look at his friend without seeing Distin too, and to look at the latter
meant drawing upon himself a savage glare. So he turned his eyes to
Vane, with the result that Distin watched him as if he were certain that
he was going to detect some fresh conspiracy.
Macey sighed, and gazed dolefully at the bank, as if he wished that he
were ashore.
Vane gazed at the bank too, and thought of his ill luck in being at odds
with Distin, and of the many walks he had had along there with his
uncle. These memories brought up plenty of pleasant thoughts, and he
began to search for different water-plants and chat about them to Macey,
who listened eagerly this time for the sake of having something to do.
"Look!" said Vane pointing; "there's the Stratiotes."
"What?"
"Stratiotes. The water-soldier."
"Then he's a deserter," said Macey. "Hold hard you two, and let's
arrest him."
"No, no; go on rowing," said Vane.
"Don't take any notice of the buffoon, Gilmore," cried Distin sharply.
"Pull!"
"I say, old cock of the weather," whispered Macey, leaning over the
side, "I'd give something to be as strong as you are."
"Why?" asked Vane in the same low tone.
"Because my left fist wants to punch Distie's nose, and I haven't got
muscle enough--what do you call it, biceps--to do it."
"Let dogs delight to bark and bite," said Vane, laughing.
"Don't," whispered Macey; "you're making Distie mad again. He feels
we're talking about him. Go on about the vegetables."
"All right. There you are then. That's all branched bur-reed."
"What, that thing with the little spikey horse-chestnuts on it?"
"That's it."
"Good to eat?"
"I never tried it. There's something that isn't," continued Vane,
pointing at some vivid green, deeply-cut and ornamental leaves.
"What is it? Looks as if it would make a good salad."
"Water hemlock. Very poisonous."
"Do not chew the hemlock rank--growing on the weedy bank," quoted Macey.
"I wish you wouldn't begin nursery rhymes. You've started me off now.
I should like some of those bulrushes," and he pointed to a cluster of
the brown poker-like growth rising from the water, well out of reach
from the bank.
"Those are not bulrushes."
"What are they, then?"
"It is the reed-mace."
"They'll do just as well by that name. I say, Distie, I want to cut
some of them."
"Go on rowing," said Distin, haughtily, to Gilmore, without glancing at
Macey.
"All right, my lord," muttered Macey. "Halloo! What was that? a big
fish?"
"No; it was a water-rat jumped in."
"All right again," said Macey good-humouredly. "I don't know anything
at all. There never was such an ignorant chap as I am."
"Give me the other scull, Gilmore," said Distin, just then.
"All right, but hadn't we better go a little higher first? The stream
runs very hard just here."
Distin uttered a sound similar to that made by a turkey-cock before he
begins to gobble--a sound that may be represented by the word _Phut_,
and they preserved their relative places.
"What are those leaves shaped like spears?" said Macey, giving Vane a
peculiar look.
"Arrowheads."
"There, I do know what those are!" cried Macey, quickly as a shoal of
good-sized fish darted of from a gravelly shallow into deep water.
"Well, what are they?"
"Roach and dace."
"Neither," said Vane, laughing heartily.
"Well, I--oh, but they are."
"No."
"What then?"
"Chub."
"How do you know?"
"By the black edge round their tails."
"I say!" cried Macey; "how do you know all these precious things so
readily?"
"Walks with uncle," replied Vane. "I don't know much but he seems to
know everything."
"Why I thought he couldn't know anything but about salts and senna, and
bleeding, and people's tongues when they put 'em out."
"Here, Macey and he had better row now," cried Distin, suddenly. "Let's
have a rest, Gilmore."
The exchange of position was soon made, and Macey said, as he rolled up
his sleeves over his thin arms, which were in peculiar contrast to his
round plump face:--
"Now then: let's show old pepper-pot what rowing is."
"No: pull steadily, and don't show off," said Vane quietly. "We want to
look at the things on the banks."
"Oh, all right," cried Macey resignedly; and the sculls dipped together
in a quiet, steady, splashless pull, the two lads feathering well, and,
with scarcely any exertion, sending the boat along at a fair pace, while
Vane, with a naturalist's eye, noted the different plants on the banks,
the birds building in the water-growth--reed sparrows, and bearded tits,
and pointing out the moor-hens, coots, and an occasional duck.
All at once, as they cut into a patch of the great dark flat leaves of
the yellow water-lily, there was a tremendous swirl in the river just
beyond the bows of the boat--one which sent the leaves heaving and
falling for some distance ahead.
"Come now, that was a pike," cried Macey, as he looked at Distin lolling
back nonchalantly, with his eyes half-closed.
"Yes; that was a pike, and a big one too," said Vane. "Let's see,
opposite those three pollard willows in the big horseshoe bend. We'll
come and have a try for him, Aleck, one of these days."
It was a pleasant row, Macey and Vane keeping the oars for a couple of
hours, right on, past another mill, and among the stumps which showed
where the old bridge and the side-road once spanned the deeps--a bridge
which had gradually decayed away and had never been replaced, as the
traffic was so small and there was a good shallow ford a quarter of a
mile farther on.
The country was beautifully picturesque up here, and the latter part of
their row was by a lovely grove of beeches which grew on a chalk ridge--
almost a cliff--at whose foot the clear river ran babbling along.
Here, all of a sudden, Macey threw up the blade of his oar, and at a
pull or two from Vane, the boat's keel grated on the pebbly sand.
"What's that for?" cried Gilmore, who had been half asleep as he sat
right back in the stern, with his hands holding the sides.
"Time to go back," said Macey. "Want my corn."
"He means his thistle," said Distin, rousing himself to utter a
sarcastic remark.
"Thistle, if you like," said Macey, good-humouredly. "Donkey enjoys his
thistle as much as a horse does his corn, or you did chewing sugar-cane
among your father's niggers."
It was an unlucky speech, and like a spark to gunpowder.
Distin sprang up and made for Macey, with his fists doubled, but Vane
interposed.
"No," he said; "no fighting in a boat, please. Gilmore and I don't want
a ducking, if you do."
There was another change in the Creole on the instant. The fierce angry
look gave place to a sneering smile, and he spoke in a husky whisper.
"Oh, I see," he said, gazing at Vane the while, with half-shut eyes.
"You prompted him to say that."