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GEORGIE’S PRESENT;
OR TALES OF NEWFOUNDLAND.
By Miss Brightwell
_Author of “Annals of Industry and Genius,” etc. etc._ [Blank Page]
Contents.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
GEORGIE’S PRESENT;
OR,
TALES OF NEWFOUNDLAND.
CHAPTER I.
It was a beautiful May-day morning when George Green rose at an early
hour; for it was his birthday, and he had not been able to sleep so long
as usual, for counting of the joyful anniversary.
“Ten years old, are you indeed, my boy?” said his father, who found
Master George eagerly awaiting him in the breakfast parlour. “Yes, papa;
and I am to have a whole holiday, and mamma has promised to take me to
spend the afternoon at Aunt Baker’s, and--but I must not tell you that
now, for it is a secret!”
[Illustration]
The afternoon visit was evidently the great treat in George’s esteem;
and pleased indeed did he look, as he started with his mother for the
Parsonage-house in which his aunt lived. Mrs. Baker was the daughter
of Mr. Ward, an excellent clergyman, who had for several years been a
missionary in Newfoundland. After his death, his widow and daughter
returned to England, and found a home in the country village where some
of their family lived, and where Maria Ward soon married the clergyman
of the parish, her widowed mother consenting to become one of her
household.
Mrs. Ward was a charming old lady, lively and intelligent, and full of
goodness. Her heart seemed always overflowing with love, and though no
longer able to labour in the missionary field as she had done in the
days of her early womanhood, she was at heart a missionary still,
regarding with delight the progress of that great and glorious
cause--the advancement of the Redeemer’s kingdom upon earth.
On the afternoon of the fair May-day, when little George and his mother
paid their visit to the Parsonage, Mrs. Ward was sitting in her best bib
and tucker, prepared to do honour to the occasion. Close by her side,
upon the hearth, lay a splendid Newfoundland dog, which every now and
then looked up at her with affectionate eyes that seemed to say, “How
much I love you.”
“Ah, Boxa!” said the old lady, fondly caressing the head of the animal,
“I don’t know what you’ll say to me I have actually given away one of
your pups: at all events, I have promised it, which is the same thing.”
At that moment Master George popped his merry face in at the open
window, and greeted Mrs. Ward with a shout of joyous laughter. “Dear
Granny, you didn’t know you were talking aloud; and how indeed were you
to guess that I was so close at hand to overhear you? Ah! how glad I am
that you mean really to let me have the beautiful pup. I have chosen a
name for it already: it shall be called Newfy, because its mother came
from Newfoundland.”
“Its grandmother you should say, my dear,” replied Mrs. Ward; “Boxa’s
mother came over with me from Newfoundland, and a wonderful animal she
was for cleverness and beauty; but after all, she could not compare with
dear old Box, her sire. He was a marvel of sagacity, and did feats which
I really believe have never been surpassed.”
While the old lady was speaking, her grandson had jumped in at the
window, and was standing beside her, eagerly listening.
“You know, dear grandmamma,” he said, “this is my birthday, and I have
come to spend half of it with you and aunt; and, first, we are to have a
walk, then to take tea together, and, to finish up, you will tell me all
about Newfoundland and what you have seen there, ending with the history
of the wonderful dog.”
“Stay, stay, my love,” said Mrs. Ward; “it is impossible that I should
tell you all I have seen in Newfoundland. I can, however, give you an
account of some of your dear grandfather’s missionary journeys, in which
he met with many adventures, and, at the close of one trip, fell in with
the good man to whom the wonderful dog Box belonged.”
“That’s just what I should like,” said George; and immediately he
hastened to find his grandmother’s bonnet and shawl, in which she was
quickly arrayed for the walk. [Illustration]
It was a bright sunshiny afternoon, and as the little party strolled
through the village street, they found half the women and children of
the place, sitting in the doorways, or playing about on the roadside.
By-and-by they came to the green, where there was a crowd of boys just
turned out of school, a large knot of them clustering round a little
Italian boy, who had found his way to the village with his hurdy-gurdy,
upon which he was playing, while, tied to a string, he carried a little
monkey, perched upon his shoulder. George was eager to join the group
and see the antics of Jacko, who sat grinning and holding a little
cap for money, into which a boy flung a halfpenny, and then asked the
Italian where he came from. But the answer was unintelligible to him,
for it was given in a strange tongue, and George was soon tired of
listening to the music and watching the monkey.
In the meantime his grandmother had walked on, accompanied by her
daughter, and they were now slowly crossing the common. A few minutes’
brisk run brought George to their side, when he began chatting about the
boy and his monkey.
“I have no liking for those animals,” said Mrs. Ward; “indeed, the very
sight of a monkey makes me shudder with a feeling of aversion. I once
saw a trick played by one of them which made a lasting impression upon
my mind.”
“Tell me about it, dear grandma,” said George, “while you rest for a
while under this warm hedge upon your camp-stool which I have brought
for you.”
“Well,” she said, seating herself at her grandson’s request, “it is a
strange story, but quite true. It happened many long years ago, when I
was a young married woman, voyaging to Newfoundland, in the good ship
_Sarah Ann_, with your grandfather, who was then starting for the
missionary station to which he had been appointed. We were drawing near
to land; and after a long and weary voyage, you may imagine how eagerly
all eyes were strained to catch the first sight of the yet distant
shore.
“Among the passengers was one young lady, a sweet, gentle creature,
who quite won my heart by her winning manners. She had with her her
first-born child, an infant at the breast, and was going to Quebec to
join her husband, a military man there. She had come with the rest of us
on deck when the glad summons was heard, ‘Land in sight!’ and was seated
upon a sofa, with the child in her lap. The captain very politely handed
his glass to the ladies who stood near him, and directed them how to
catch a glimpse of the shore, which they were just able to discern.
When they had all had a peep, he turned to the young lady whom I have
mentioned, and asked if she would like to look. She thanked him, and
rose for the purpose, first cautiously laying her sleeping baby upon the
sofa. She then advanced a few steps, and took the glass he presented to
her; but scarcely had she raised it to her eye when a shout was heard
from one of the sailors--‘Stop him! stop the monkey; he’s got the
child!’ Every eye was turned in the direction to which the man pointed;
and there we saw the ship’s monkey, a favourite animal with the sailors,
of which they made a great pet, climbing up a rope which he held in one
hand, while with the other he hugged close to him the helpless infant!
Up, up, to a towering height the wretched brute climbed, while we
followed him with our eyes in breathless alarm. Suddenly a loud scream
was heard: it was the voice of the poor agonized mother, who would have
fallen senseless to the ground, had not one of the gentlemen caught her
in his arms. She was carried down in a state of unconsciousness to the
cabin, and left to the care of the stewardess.”
[Illustration: desc. Ship’s rigging in night storm]
“No one on deck had moved an inch. Indeed, they scarcely seemed to
breathe, so intense was the excitement felt in watching the movements of
the animal. Presently, a faint cry was heard,--the child was evidently
frightened; perhaps hurt by the pressure of the brute’s arm. At once the
monkey paused: he seemed to perceive there was something amiss; for,
taking his station in some part of the rigging, he tried to act the part
of nurse, rocking the baby to and fro, and patting its back. In the
meantime the captain was at his wits’ end to know what course was the
best to pursue. At first he ordered one or two of the men to go aloft in
pursuit. But this only increased the evil, for the animal, seeing itself
chased, hastened to climb a still higher spar; and the terrible fear
was suggested that, if driven too closely, he might drop his precious
burden, in order thus to secure the use of both his arms.”
“Oh, grandmamma, how shocking!” cried George, his interest evidently
reaching a climax at this point of the tale.
“Shocking indeed,” said Mrs. Ward; “the very idea was enough to make
one’s blood run cold. What was to be done? There was, happily, present a
very experienced old seaman, who now ventured to suggest a plan which he
thought might possibly turn out successful: at all events, as he said,
it could do no harm. His advice was, that everybody should be ordered to
quit the deck, sailors and all, so that not a creature should be visible
on board. The few men whose presence was necessary to manage the ship
were alone suffered to remain at their post, and they were directed to
keep quiet, and to conceal themselves as much as possible from view of
the monkey. The captain determined to try this scheme, and his orders
were immediately obeyed. We all hastened down accordingly, and waited
the issue in suspense. For some minutes a profound silence reigned.
By-and-by the captain, who had placed himself at a point where he could
watch unseen what was going forward, announced that the monkey was
descending cautiously from his perch. By his actions it seemed as though
the creature felt at a loss to account for the unwonted solitude on
deck. His curiosity was awakened, and he must needs come down and see
what it meant.
“Slowly and cautiously he slipped from yardarm to yardarm, approaching
nearer and nearer to the deck; at last he reached it, still carrying the
child with a firm grasp. In a moment he was seized by two lusty sailors
who were lying in wait behind a coil of rope; and the precious freight
he carried was borne in triumph down to the cabin. What a scene it was!
The poor mother was just recovering from the long death-like swoon in
which she had lain, when the infant was placed in her arms, perfectly
uninjured, although cold, and its little face blanched as if with
terror. At first it seemed as though the sudden revulsion of feeling was
too much for her, and she appeared about to sink once more into a state
of insensibility; but the next moment, feeling the little creature
nestling close to her bosom, she clasped it to her, while the tears
trickled down her cheeks.”
“I wonder whether they punished the monkey for playing such a trick,”
said George. “I really think, my dear,” said Mrs. Ward, “that the
mischievous brute escaped the flogging which he richly deserved: one
thing is certain, he never had the chance of playing nurse to Mrs. Ray’s
baby again.”
[Illustration]