THE LAUNCH OF THE "QUEEN OF THE BROADS."
The men saved from the wreck of the brig on the Gorton sands were
dealt with in a very summary way indeed. They were Englishmen all,
and were told by Merryweather that if they chose to "volunteer" into
the service of the King and serve in the Royal Navy, they should
receive a free pardon; but if not, they must stand the consequences.
Four of the smuggler-sailors volunteered at once and cheerfully. The
fifth was the redoubtable skipper of the brig, a dark-haired,
eagle-eyed little fellow, little as to stature, but of powerful
build, and a Welshman by birth.
"I refuse," he cried, "to serve your King of England. He is not a
man, but a baboon!"
The words were scarcely out of his mouth before Merryweather struck
him straight from the shoulder, and down he rolled on the sand.
[Illustration: "Merryweather struck him straight from the shoulder,
and down he rolled on the sand."]
He got up, scowling at the lieutenant, and wiping the blood and sand
from his face.
"Coward!" he hissed, "to treat a prisoner so. But faugh! it was
always the way with the lily-livered Saxon. See!" he added, "you
daren't do it, but for the gold swab on your shoulder, the sword by
your side, and your hired assassins around you."
Off went Merryweather's coat and his sword. He flung them to Dan
Brundell, who was standing scratching his head and looking very
puzzled.
"These good fellows," he said, "will see fair play between us. I am
no longer lieutenant in the King's service, but plain Jack
Merryweather. Stand forth, David Jones, and see how soundly a Saxon
can thrash a Welshman."
Jones sprang upon the lieutenant almost before he had finished the
sentence.
"Like mountain cat that guards its young,
Full at the Saxon's throat he sprung."
That Welshman had arms like a gorilla, and Merryweather was all but
strangled before he got clear away.
"Keep out of grips," shouted his own men. "Fight fair, skipper, and
good luck to you."
He didn't mean to fight fair, however, if he could help it; but
Merryweather got in one with his left and, figuratively speaking,
knocked his man clean over the ropes. The Welshman never had another
chance. He was no sooner up than down again. Embracing the soft
sands didn't hurt him, it is true; but Merryweather's fists were
rapidly making a mummy of him.
"I cave in," he cried at last.
"That isn't enough. Do you volunteer?"
"I do, sir," said Jones. "I've never met a harder-fisted Saxon in my
life. Shake hands, Englishman. I volunteer on one condition."
Merryweather began to spar again.
"No more, thanks," said Jones, smiling grimly. "I want to serve in
your ship when you go to fight the French. I want to be with a brave
man. That is the condition."
"Granted," said Merryweather, coolly putting on his coat, "and I
won't forget it."
"Neither will I," murmured David Jones; but no one heard him except
Tom.
And just at that moment a bright idea occurred to young Tom. Why
shouldn't he also sail with Merryweather? He determined to broach it
to the kindly officer as soon as he had an opportunity, and it was
not many weeks before this opportunity came.
All haste was now made to ship the prisoners. Prisoners now no
longer, but brave "volunteers." The sloop had quietly dropped anchor
at the very time the fight was going on between her commander and the
skipper of the wrecked brig.
Before embarking Merryweather shook hands with Dan and Ashley,
thanking them most heartily for their hospitality. Then he shook
hands with Tom.
"Good-bye, youngster," he said; "but just take my advice. Don't be a
sailor. Stay at home and plough the fields; be an honest fisherman,
be a gardener, a hedger, or ditcher; but don't come to sea."
Young Tom was astonished at his own boldness as he made reply: "I
shan't be a ditcher, nor a hedger, nor a gardener, nor a fisherman,
and I shan't plough the fields; but I shall plough the sea."
Merryweather laughed as he leapt into his boat. He waved his hand
again, then away he went, leaving the people to bury the dead, and
pick up the spoils of the wreck as their reward.
* * * * *
Tom went off to school that day as usual, though he was very late.
But Mr. Curtiss forgave him. Yet somehow he could not fix his
attention upon either his books or his sums; and probably, therefore,
the curate was just as glad when lessons were over as the boy was.
He went home more slowly than usual, and less joyfully. He kept
kicking the pebbles as he marched along the road, a sure sign he was
deep in thought, and the first words he said to Uncle Bob on his
return were these, "I wonder if ever Captain Merryweather will come
again?"
"He is sure to, my lad. He said he would call and see us. Besides,
he has an old shipmate not a great way off."
"What, another old shipmate as well as you, Uncle Bob?"
"Why, bless your dear heart, boy, I was only a man before the mast
when in the same craft with Mate Merryweather, but since that time
he's been in many a ship; kicked about like a wet swab. No, Tom, his
friend is an officer and gentleman."
"Where does he live, and what is his name?"
"He lives, my lad, at Wells, or rather near it, at his old father's
parsonage at Burnham Thorpe."
"And with his mother, Uncle Bob?"
"His mother is dead, long, long ago, lad."
"Is he as tall and pretty as Mr. Merryweather?"
"What droll questions you ask, Tom. But I have never seen Mr.
Merryweather's friend. But I am told that he is but a little man,
and very delicate in health."
"Oh! then he isn't a hero like brave Captain Merryweather. Oh,
uncle, you should have seen how he fought the skipper of the brig;
and Mr. Jones didn't know where to hit, and his nose and mouth were
all blood and sand. I'd like to be a hero like the captain. What is
the little man's name?"
"Horatio Nelson, lad."
"Oh!" said Tom. "It isn't much of a name, is it?"
But from that moment this strange boy seemed to regain his wonted
spirits. He had something to live for. His hero, Captain
Merryweather, who thrashed the Welshman, was coming back. Hooray!
and he should count the weeks and days till he returned. So he went
about his studies more energetically now, only one day he told Mr.
Curtiss that he must teach him all he knew about navigation, because
a sailor he meant to be and nothing else.
All that Mr. Curtiss _didn't_ know about navigation would have filled
a big book, only he was a right good fellow, and determined that he
should at least teach his little pupil the history of the British
navy, and the geography of the world. And I may as well say here,
that these subjects proved of great present interest to Tom, and of
future utility also.
* * * * *
It was about this period of young Tom's career that Daddy Dan
completed a project he had long had in view, to give his poor brother
Bob a little more interest and pleasure in life. Dan, it should be
remembered, was a very hard-working man, and seldom either idle or
laid up, so that the building of a private barge for Bob was work
that he could not keep steady at. Rome, however, was not built in
one day. Indeed, I question if that ancient city was completed in
two. But "every little helps the mickle" you know, reader, and it is
surprising what a deal one can do by degrees, and day by day. So in
the merry month of June, much to Bob's joy and Tom's delight, the
barge, _Queen of the Broads_, was all finished and ready for
launching.
Little saucy Bertha, who had made it all up again with Tom, came with
her maid Brown to the cottage to christen the barge with a bottle of
gooseberry wine and she--the ship I mean--left the slips in grand
style and took the water like a duck, amidst the wild huzzas and
hoorays of the children and the neighbours, who had gathered from all
quarters to behold the ceremony.
The _Queen of the Broads_ was nothing much to look at, she was square
in bows and square in stern, with no freeboard to speak of; in fact
she was a kind of punt, but so constructed that Uncle Bob's
low-wheeled cot could be run on board and on shore with the greatest
ease, and without the slightest danger. She had a bit of a mast
forward, and a little yawl mast aft, where there was room enough for
quite a party. Moreover the barge was provided with oars and punting
poles, so it must be confessed she was pretty complete upon the whole.
Well, after the barge herself was launched, Bob's cot was launched on
board of her, and everything passed off so beautifully and
"lovelily," as Bertha put it, that once more wild huzzas rose from
the assembled multitude, and Meg, barking and frantic with joy,
jumped on board, and took her place in the bows, just like a
Christian.
Old Daddy Dan was so gratified that he couldn't speak for some time
after the cot was successfully run on board. He just stood smiling
and scratching his head.
Then everybody gathered round him and shook hands, and wished him so
many good wishes that the tears rose to his eyes, and he had to
swallow a big lump in his throat before he could make any adequate
reply.
But the day was fine, with a gentle breeze rippling the broad, and
whispering softly among the reeds, and so with Dan at the helm sail
was hoisted, and the barge glided silently away into the open water.
This was but a trial trip, but it was a very successful one;
everybody, including Bertha and Meg, returned happy and hungry, and
Mrs. Brundell and Ruth, met them on the quay.
Somebody else as well. You see it never rains but it pours, and
'there, sure enough, with one arm round Ruth's waist, as gallantly as
you please, and waving his cocked-hat in the air with the other,
stood the bold Captain Merryweather himself.
You may be sure Tom was glad to see him, and took no pains to hide
his joy either, for his eyes sparkled like farthing candles, and he
turned as red as a ripe tomato with perfect joy.
Merryweather's "ship" was in the bay, and she had a consort this
time, no other than the smuggling yawl, which it had taken him a
whole fortnight to chase and secure. So the gallant officer had
secured not only prize money, but several new "volunteers" for the
Royal Navy. No wonder therefore that he was merry, or that the
dinner which was partaken of on the lawn was--as the lieutenant
himself phrased it--one of the pleasantest meals he had ever partaken
of, either on board ship or on shore.
After dinner Tom volunteered to row Bertha and her maid home across
the broads. But the child stipulated that Captain Merryweather
should come also, and although this was a heavy cargo for the little
boat, Tom was very glad indeed to have his hero on board.
Bertha had arranged her flirtations on a basis that was eminently
satisfactory from her own point of view. When Mr. Merryweather was
away at sea Tom was to have her company, and as much of her affection
as could be spared from her pets and playthings; but whenever the
captain should arrive, then Tom was to be, for the time being, thrown
overboard.
And with this arrangement Tom was obliged to be content.
Well, Mr. Merryweather, much to the boy's sorrow, went off that very
night, but promised that he would return in about a fortnight, and
then--if Mr. Curtiss would spare him--would take Tom with him for a
trip to Wells to see
HORATIO NELSON.