Talking upstairs about the barrel of the gun, they began to think it
would be an awkward thing to bring home, people would look at them
walking through the town with an iron pipe, and when they had got it
home, other people might ask what it was for. Presently Mark remembered
that John Young went to Latten that day with the horse and cart to fetch
things; now if they bought the tube, Young could call for it, and bring
it in the cart and leave it at his cottage. Downstairs they ran, and up
to the stables, and as they came near, heard the stamp of a cart-horse,
as it came over. Mark began to whistle the tune,--
“John Young went to town
On a little pony,
Stuck a feather in his hat,
And called him Macaroni.”
“Macaroni!” said he, as they looked in at the stable-door. “Macaroni”
did not answer; the leather of the harness creaked as he moved it.
“Macaroni!” shouted Mark. He did not choose to reply to such a
nickname.
“John!” said Bevis.
“Eez--eez,” replied the man, looking under the horse’s neck, and meaning
“Yes, yes.”
“Fetch something for us,” said Mark.
“Pint?” said John laconically.
“Two,” said Bevis.
“Ar-right,” [“all right”] said John, his little brown eyes twinkling.
“Ar-right, you.” For a quart of ale there were few things he would not
have done: for a gallon his soul would not have had a moment’s
consideration, if it had stood in the way.
Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back
When pewter tankard beckons to come on!
They explained to him what they wanted him to do.
“Have you got a grate in your house?” said Bevis.
“A yarth,” said John, meaning an open hearth. “Burns wood.”
“Can you make a hot fire--very hot on it?”
“Rayther. Bellers.” By using the bellows.
“What could we have for an anvil?”
“Be you going a blacksmithing?”
“Yes--what will do for an anvil?”
“Iron quarter,” said John. “There’s an ould iron in the shed. Shall I
take he whoam?” An iron quarter is a square iron weight weighing 28
pounds: it would make a useful anvil. It was agreed that he should do
so, and they saw him put the old iron weight, rusty and long disused, up
in the cart.
“If you wants anybody to blow the bellers,” said he, “there’s our Loo--
she’ll blow for yer. Be you going to ride?”
“No,” said Bevis; “we’ll go across the fields.”
Away they went by the meadow foot-path, a shorter route to the little
town, and reached it before John and his cart. At the ironmonger’s they
examined a number of pipes, iron and brass tubes. The brass looked
best, and tempted them, but on turning it round they fancied the join
showed, and was not perfect, and of course that would not do. Nor did
it look so strong as the iron, so they chose the iron, and bought five
feet of a stout tube--the best in the shop--with a bore of 5-eighths;
and afterwards a brass rod, which was to form the ramrod. Brass would
not cause a spark in the barrel.
John called for these in due course, and left them at his cottage. The
old rogue had his quart, and the promise of a shilling, if the hearth
answered for the blacksmithing. In the evening, Mark, well primed as to
what he was to ask, casually looked in at the blacksmith’s down the
hamlet. The blacksmith was not in the least surprised; they were both
old frequenters; he was only surprised one or both had not been before.
Mark pulled some of the tools about, lifted the sledge which stood
upright, and had left it’s mark on the iron “scale” which lay on the
ground an inch deep. Scale consists of minute particles which fly off
red-hot iron when it is hammered--the sparks, in fact, which, when they
go out, fall, and are found to be metal; like the meteors in the sky,
the scale shooting from Vulcan’s anvil, which go out and drop on the
earth. Mark lifted the sledge, put it down, twisted up the vice, and
untwisted it, while Jonas, the smith, stood blowing the bellows with his
left hand, and patting the fire on the forge with his little spud of a
shovel.
“Find anything you want,” he said presently.
“I’ll take this,” said Mark. “There’s sixpence.”
He had chosen a bit of iron rod, short, and thicker than their ramrod.
Bevis had told him what to look for.
“All right, sir--anything else?”
“Well,” said Mark, moving towards the door, “I don’t know,”--then
stopping with an admirable assumption of indifference. “Suppose you had
to stop up one end of a pipe, how should you do it?”
“Make it white-hot,” said the smith. “Bring it to me.”
“Will white-hot shut tight?”
“Quite tight--it runs together when hit. Bring it to me. I say,
where’s the punt?” grinning. His white teeth gleamed between his open
lips--a row of ivory set in a grimy face.
“The punt’s at the bottom,” said Mark, with a louring countenance.
“Nice boys,” said the smith. “You’re very nice boys. If you was
mine--” He took up a slender ash plant that was lying on the bench, and
made it ply and whistle in the air.
Mark tossed his chin, kicked the door open, and walked off.
“I say!--I say!” shouted the smith. “Bring it to me.”
“Keep yourself to yourself,” said Mark loftily.
Boys indeed! The smith swore, and it sounded in his broad deep chest
like the noise of the draught up the furnace. He was angry with
himself--he thought he had lost half-a-crown, at least, by just swishing
the stick up and down. If you want half-a-crown, you must control your
feelings.
Mark told Bevis what the smith had said, and they went to work, and the
same evening filed off the end of the rod Mark had bought. Bevis’s plan
was to file this till it almost fitted the tube, but not quite. Then he
meant to make the tube red-hot--almost white--and insert the little
block. He knew that heat would cause the tube to slightly enlarge, so
that the block being cold could be driven in; then as the tube cooled it
would shrink in and hold it tight, so that none of the gas of the powder
could escape.
The block was to be driven in nearly half an inch below the rim; the rim
was to be next made quite white-hot, and in that state hammered over
till it met in the centre, and overlapped a little. Again made
white-hot, the overlapping (like the paper of a paper tube doubled in)
was to be hammered and solidly welded together. The breech would then
be firmly closed, and there would not be the slightest chance of its
blowing out. This was his own idea, and he explained it to Mark.
They had now to decide how long the barrel should be: they had bought
rather more tube than they wanted. Five, or even four feet would be so
long, the gun would be inconvenient to handle, though with a rest, and
very heavy. In a barrel properly built up, the thickness gradually
decreases from the breech to the muzzle, so that as the greatest weight
is nearest the shoulder the gun balances. But this iron tube was the
same thickness from one end to the other, and in consequence, when held
up horizontally, it seemed very heavy at the farther extremity.
Yet they wanted a long barrel, else it would not be like a proper
matchlock. Finally, they fixed on forty inches, which would be long,
but not too long; with a barrel of three feet four inches they ought,
they considered, to be able to kill at a great distance. Adding the
stock, say fifteen inches, the total length would be four feet seven.
Next morning, taking their tools and a portable vice in a flag-basket,
as they often did to the boat, they made a détour and went to John
Young’s cottage. On the door-step there sat a little girl without shoes
or stockings; her ragged frock was open at her neck. At first, she
looked about twelve years old, as the original impression of age is
derived from height and size. In a minute or two she grew older, and
was not less than fourteen. The rest of the family were in the fields
at work, Loo had been left to wait upon them. Already she had a huge
fire burning on the hearth, which was of brick; the floor too was brick.
With the door wide open they could hardly stand the heat till the
flames had fallen. Bevis did not want so much flame; embers are best to
make iron hot. Taking off their jackets they set to work, put the tube
in the fire, arranged the anvil, screwed the vice to the deal table,
which, though quite clean, was varnished with grease that had sunk into
the wood, selected the hammer which they thought would suit, and told
Loo to fetch them her father’s hedging-gloves.
These are made of thick leather, and Mark thought he could hold the tube
better with them, as it would be warm from one end to the other. The
little block of iron, to form the breech, was filed smooth, so as to
just _not_ fit the tube. When the tube was nearly white-hot, Mark put
on the leather gloves, seized and placed the colder end on the anvil,
standing the tube with the glowing end upwards.
Bevis took the iron block, or breech-piece, with his pincers, inserted
it in the white-hot tube, and drove it down with a smart tap. Some
scale fell off and dropped on Mark’s shirt-sleeve, burning little holes
through to his skin. He drew his breath between his teeth, so sudden
and keen was the pain of the sparks, but did not flinch. Bevis hastily
threw his jacket over Mark’s arms, and then gave the block three more
taps, till it was flush with the top of the tube.
By now the tube was cooling, the whiteness superseded by a red, which
gradually became dull. Mark put the tube again in the fire, and Loo was
sent to find a piece of sacking to protect his arm from the sparks. His
face was not safe, but he had sloped his hat over it, and hold his head
down. There were specks on his hat where the scale or sparks had burnt
it. Loo returned with a sack, when Bevis, who had been thinking,
discovered a way by which Mark might escape the sparks.
He pulled the table along till the vice fixed to it projected over the
anvil. Next time Mark was to stand the tube upright just the same, but
to put it in the vice, and tighten the vice quickly, so that he need not
hold it. Bevis had a short punch to drive the block or breech-piece
deeper into the tube. Loo, blowing at the embers, with her scorched
face close to the fire, declared that the tube was ready. Mark drew it
out, and in two seconds it was fixed in the vice, but with the colder
end in contact with the anvil underneath. Bevis put his punch on the
block and tapped it sharply till he had forced it half an inch beneath
the rim.
He now adjusted it for the next heating himself, for he did not wish all
the end of the tube to be so hot; he wanted the end itself almost
white-hot, but not the rest. While it was heating they went out of
doors to cool themselves, leaving Loo to blow steadily at the embers.
She watched their every motion as intent as a cat a mouse; she ran with
her naked brown feet to fetch and carry; she smiled when Mark put on the
leather gloves, for she would have held it with her hands, though it had
been much hotter.
She would have put her arm on the anvil to receive a blow from the
hammer; she would have gone down the well in the bucket if they had
asked her. Her mind was full of this wonderful work--what could they be
making? But her heart and soul was filled with these great big boys
with their beautiful sparkling eyes and white arms, white as milk, and
their wilful, imperious ways. How many times she had watched them from
afar! To have them so near was almost too great a joy; she was like a
slave under their feet; they regarded her less than the bellows in her
hands.
Directly the tube was white-hot at the extremity, she called them. Mark
set the tube up; Bevis carefully hammered the rim over, folding it down
on the breech block. Another heating, and he hammered the yielding
metal still closer together, welding the folds. A third heating, and he
finished it, deftly levelling the projections. The breech was complete,
and it was much better done than they had hoped. As it cooled the tube
shrank on the block; the closed end of the tube shrank too, and the
breech-piece was incorporated into the tube itself. Their barrel was
indeed far safer at the breech than scores of the brittle guns turned
out cheap in these days.
Loo, seeing them begin to put their tools in the flag-basket, asked,
with tears in her eyes, if they were not going to do any more? They had
been there nearly three hours, for each heating took some time, but it
had not seemed ten minutes to her. Bevis handed the barrel to her, and
told her to take great care of it; they would come for it at night. It
was necessary to smuggle it up into the armoury at home, and that could
not be done by day. She took it. Had he given it in charge of a file
of soldiers it could not have been safer; she would watch it as a bird
does her nest.
Just then John came in, partly for his luncheon, partly out of curiosity
to see how they were getting on. “Picters you be!” said John.
Pictures they were--black and grimy, not so much from the iron as the
sticks and logs, half burnt, which they had handled; they were, in fact,
streaked and smudged with charcoal. Loo instantly ran for a bowl of
water for them to wash, and held the towel ready. She watched them down
the hill, and wished they had kicked her or pulled her hair. Other boys
did; why did not they touch her? They might have done so. Next time
she thought she would put her naked foot so that they would step on it;
then if she cried out perhaps they would stroke her.
In the afternoon they took two spades up to the boat. The wind had
fallen as usual, but they rowed to New Formosa. The Pinta being deep in
the water and heavy with ballast, moved slowly, and it was a long row.
Mark cut two sticks, and these were driven into the face of the sand
cliff, to show the outline of the proposed cave. It was to be five feet
square, and as deep as they could dig it.
They cleared away the loose sand and earth at the foot in a few minutes,
and began the excavation. The sand at the outside was soft and
crumbled, but an inch deep it became harder, and the work was not
anything like so easy as they had supposed. After pecking with the
spades for a whole hour, each had only cut out a shallow hole.
“This is no good,” said Mark; “we shall never do it like this.”
“Pickaxes,” said Bevis.
“Yes; and hatchets,” said Mark. “We could chop this sand best.”
“So we could,” said Bevis. “There are some old hatchets in the shed;
we’ll sharpen them; they’ll do.”
They worked on another half-hour, and then desisted, and cutting some
more sticks stuck them in the ground in a semicircle before the cliff,
to mark where the palisade was to be fixed. The New Sea was still calm,
and they had to row through the Mozambique all the way to the harbour.
In the evening they ground two old hatchets, which, being much worn and
chipped, had been thrown aside, and then searched among the quantities
of stored and seasoned wood and poles for a piece to make the stock of
the matchlock. There was beech, oak, elm, ash, fir--all sorts of wood
lying about in the shed and workshop. Finally, they selected a curved
piece of ash, hard and well seasoned. The curve was nearly what was
wanted, and being natural it would be much stronger. This was carried
up into the armoury to be shaved and planed into shape.
At night they went for the barrel. Loo brought it, and Bevis, as he
thought, accidentally stepped on her naked foot, crushing it between his
heel and the stones at the door. Loo cried out.
“O dear!” said he, “I am so sorry. Here--here’s sixpence, and I’ll send
you some pears.”
She put the sixpence in her mouth and bit it, and said nothing. She
indented the silver with her teeth, disappointed because he had not
stroked her, while she stood and watched them away.
They smuggled the barrel up into the armoury, which was now kept more
carefully locked than ever, and they even put it where no one could see
it through the keyhole. In the morning, as there was a breeze from the
westward, they put the hatchets on board the Pinta, and sailed away for
New Formosa. The wind was partly favourable, and they reached the
island in three tacks. The hatchets answered much better, cutting out
the sand well, so that there soon began to be two holes in the cliff.
They worked a little way apart, each drilling a hole straight in, and
intending to cut away the intervening wall afterwards, else they could
not both work at once. By dinner-time there was a heap of excavated
sand and two large holes. The afternoon and evening they spent at work
on the gun. Mark shaved at the stock; Bevis filed a touch-hole to the
barrel; he would have liked to have drilled the touch-hole, but that he
could not do without borrowing the blacksmith’s tools, and they did not
want him to know what they were about.
For four days they worked with their digging at the cave in the morning,
and making the matchlock all the rest of the day. The stock was now
ready--it was simply curved and smoothed with sand-paper, they intended
afterwards to rub it with oil, till it took a little polish like the
handles of axes. The stock was almost as long as the barrel, which
fitted into a groove in it, and was to be fastened in with copper wire
when all was ready.
Bevis at first thought to cut a mortise in the handle of the stock to
insert the lock, but on consideration he feared it would weaken the
stock, so he chiselled a place on the right side where the lock could be
counter-sunk. The right side of the stock had been purposely left
somewhat thicker for the pan. The pan was a shallow piece of tin
screwed on the stock and sunk in the wood, one end closed, the other to
be in contact with the barrel under the touch-hole. In this pan the
priming was to be placed. Another piece of tin working on a pivot
formed of a wire nail (these nails are round) was to cover the pan like
a slide or lid, and keep the priming from dropping out or being blown
off by the wind.
Before firing, the lid would have to be pushed aside by the thumb, and
the outer corner of it was curled over like a knob for the thumb-nail to
press against. The lock was most trouble, and they had to make many
trials before they succeeded. In the end it was formed of a piece of
thick iron wire. This was twisted round itself in the centre, so that
it would work on an axle or pivot.
It was then, heated red-hot, and beaten flat or nearly, this
blacksmith’s work they could do at home, for no one could have guessed
what it was for. One end was bent, so that though fixed at the side of
the stock, it would come underneath for the trigger, for in a matchlock
trigger and hammer are in a single piece. The other end curved over to
hold the match, and this caused Bevis some more thought, for he could
not split it like the match-holders of the Indian matchlocks he had seen
in cases.
Bevis drew several sketches to try and got at it, and at last twisted
the end into a spiral of two turns. The match, which is a piece of cord
prepared to burn slowly, was to be inserted in the spiral, the burning
end slightly projecting, and as at the spiral the iron had been beaten
thin, if necessary it could be squeezed with thumb and finger to hold
the cord tighter, but Bevis did not think it would be necessary to do
that.
Next the spring was fixed behind, and just above the trigger end in such
a way as to hold the hammer end up. Pulling the trigger you pulled
against the spring, and the moment the finger was removed the hammer
sprang up--this was to keep the lighted match away from the priming till
the moment of firing. The completed lock was covered with a plate of
brass screwed on, and polished till it shone brightly. Bevis was
delighted after so much difficulty to find that it worked perfectly.
The brass ramrod had been heated at one end, and enlarged there by
striking it while red-hot, which caused the metal to bulge, and they now
proceeded to prove the barrel before fastening it in the stock.
Volume Two, Chapter XI.