Some account of my family, including Aunt Deb--My father receives an
offer--A family discussion, in which Aunt Deb distinguishes herself--
Her opinions and mine differ considerably--My desire to go to sea
haunts my dreams--My brother Ned's counsel--I go a-fishing in Leighton
Park--I meet with an accident--My career nearly cut short--A battle
with a swan, in which I get the worst of it--A courageous mother--Mark
Riddle to the rescue--An awkward fix--Mark finds a way out of it--Old
Roger's cottage--The Riddle family--Roger Riddle's yarns and their
effect on me--Mark takes a different view--It's not all gold that
glitters--The model--My reception at home.
We were all seated round the tea-table, that is to say, my father and
mother, my five sisters, and three of my elder brothers, who were at
home--two were away--and the same number of young ones, who wore
pinafores, and last, but not least, Aunt Deb, who was my mother's aunt,
and lived with us to manage everything and keep everybody in order, for
this neither my father nor mother were very well able to do; the latter
nearly worn out with nursing numerous babies, while my father was
constantly engaged in the duties of the parish of Sandgate, of which he
was incumbent.
Aunt Deb was never happy unless she was actively engaged in doing
something or other. At present she was employed in cutting, buttering,
or covering with jam, huge slices of bread, which she served out as soon
as they were ready to the juvenile members of the family, while my
eldest sister, Mary, was presiding at the tea-tray, and passing round
the cups as she filled them.
When all were served, my father stood up and said grace, and then all
fell to with an eagerness which proved that we had good appetites.
"I say, Aunt Deb, Tom Martin has lent me such a jolly book. Please give
me another slice before you sit down. It's all about Anson's voyage
round the world. I don't know whether I shall like it as well as
`Robinson Crusoe' or `Captain Cook's Voyages,' or `Gulliver's Travels,'
or the `Life of Nelson,' or `Paul Jones,' but I think I shall from the
look I got of it," I exclaimed, as Aunt Deb was doing what I requested.
"I wish, Dick, that you would not read those pestiferous works," she
answered, as, having given me the slice of bread, she sat down to sip
her tea. "They are all written with an evil intent, to make young
people go gadding about the world, instead of staying contentedly at
home doing their duty in that state of life to which they are called."
"But I don't understand why I should not be called to go to sea," I
replied; "I have for a long time made up my mind to go, and I intend to
try and become as great a man as Howe, or Nelson, or Collingwood, or
Lord Cochrane, or Sir Sidney Smith. I've just to ask you, Aunt Deb,
what England would be without her navy, and what the navy would be
unless boys were allowed to go into it?"
"Stuff and nonsense, you know nothing about the matter, Dick. It's very
well for boys who have plenty of interest, for sons of peers or members
of parliament, or judges or bishops, or of others who possess ample
means and influence, but the son of a poor incumbent of an out of the
way parish, who knows no one, and whom nobody knows, would remain at the
bottom of the tree."
"But you forget, Aunt Deb, that there are ways of getting on besides
through interest. I intend to do all sorts of dashing things, and win
my promotion, through my bravery. If I can once become a midshipman I
shall have no fear about getting on."
"Stuff and nonsense!" again ejaculated Aunt Deb, "you know nothing about
the matter, boy."
"Don't I though," I said to myself, for I knew that my father, who felt
the importance of finding professions for his sons according to their
tastes, had some time before written to Sir Reginald Knowsley, of
Leighton Park,--"the Squire," as he used to be called till he was made a
baronet, and still was so very frequently, asking him to exert his
influence in obtaining an appointment for me on board a man-of-war.
This Sir Reginald had promised to do. Aunt Deb, however, had made many
objections, but for once in a way my father had acted contrary to her
sage counsel, and as he considered for the best. Still Aunt Deb had not
given in.
"You'll do as you think fit, John," she observed to him, "but you will
repent it. Dick is not able to take care of himself at home, much less
will he be so on board a big ship among a number of rough sailors. Let
him remain at school until he is old enough to go into a counting-house
in London or Bristol, where he'll make his fortune and become a
respectable member of society, as his elder brother means to be, or let
him become a master at a school, or follow any course of life rather
than that of a soldier or a sailor."
I did not venture to interrupt Aunt Deb, indeed it would have been
somewhat dangerous to have done so, while she was arguing a point, but I
had secretly begged my father to write to Sir Reginald as he had
promised, assuring him that I had set my heart on following a naval
career, and that it would break if I was not allowed to go to sea. This
took place, it will be understood, some time before the evening of which
I am now speaking.
Aunt Deb suspected that my father was inclined to favour my wishes, and
this made her speak still more disparagingly than ever of the navy.
Tea was nearly over when the post arrived. It only reached us of an
evening, and Sarah, the maid, brought in a large franked letter. I at
once guessed that it was from Sir Reginald Knowsley, who was in London.
I gazed anxiously at my father's face as he read it. His countenance
did not, however, exhibit any especial satisfaction.
"Who is it from?" asked my mother, in a languid voice. "From Sir
Reginald," he replied. "It is very kind and complimentary. He says
that he has had great pleasure in doing as I requested him. He
fortunately, when going down to the Admiralty, met his friend Captain
Grummit, who has lately been appointed to the `Blaze-away,' man-of-war,
and who expressed his willingness to receive on board his ship the son
of any friend of his, but--and here comes the rub--Captain Grummit, he
says, has made it a rule to take no midshipmen unless their parents
consent to allow them fifty pounds a year, in addition to their pay.
This sum, the Captain states, is absolutely necessary to enable them to
make the appearance he desires all his midshipmen to maintain. Fifty
pounds a year is a larger sum, I fear, than my purse can supply,"
observed my father when he had read thus far.
"I should think it was, indeed!" exclaimed Aunt Deb. "Fifty pounds a
year! Why, that's nearly half of my annual income. It would be
madness, John, to make any promise of the sort. Suppose you were to let
him go, and to stint the rest of his brothers and sisters by making him
so large an allowance--what will be the result, granting that he is not
killed in the first battle he is engaged in, or does not fall overboard
and get drowned, or the ship is not wrecked, and he escapes the other
hundred and one casualties to which a sailor is liable? Why, when he
becomes a lieutenant he'll marry to a certainty, and then he'll be
killed, and leave you and his mother and me, or his brothers and
sisters, to look after his widow and children, supposing they are able
to do so."
"But I shall have a hundred and twenty pounds full pay, and ninety
pounds a year half-pay," I answered; "I know all about it, I can tell
you."
"Ninety pounds a year and a wife and half-a-dozen small brats to support
on it," exclaimed Aunt Deb in an indignant tone. "The wife is sure to
be delicate, and know nothing about housekeeping, and she and the
children will constantly be requiring the doctor in the house."
"But you are going very far ahead, Aunt Deb, I haven't gone to sea yet,
or been made a lieutenant, and if I had, there's no reason why I should
marry."
"There are a great many reasons why you should not," exclaimed Aunt Deb.
"I was going to say that there are many lieutenants in the navy who have
not got wives, and I do not suppose that I shall marry when I become
one," I answered.
"It seems pretty certain that you will never be a lieutenant or a
midshipman either, if it depends upon your having an allowance of fifty
pounds a year, for where that fifty pounds is to come from I'm sure I
don't know," cried my aunt. "As it is, your poor father finds it a
difficult matter to find food and clothing for you all, and to give you
a proper education, and unless the Bishop should suddenly bestow a rich
living on him, he, at all events, could not pay fifty pounds a year, or
fifty shillings either, so I would advise you forthwith to give up this
mad idea of yours, and stay quietly at school until a profitable
employment is found for you."
I looked up at my father, feeling that there was a good deal of truth in
what Aunt Deb said, although I did not like the way she said it.
"Your aunt only states what is the case, Dick," said my father. "I
should be glad to forward your views, but I could not venture, with my
very limited income, to bind myself to supply you with the sum which Sir
Reginald says is necessary."
"Couldn't you get Sir Reginald to advance the money?" I inquired, as
the bright idea occurred to me; "I will return it to him out of my pay
and prize-money."
Aunt Deb fairly burst out laughing.
"Out of your pay, Dick?" she exclaimed. "Why fifty pounds is required
over and above that pay you talk of, every penny of which you will have
to spend, and supposing that you should not be employed for a time, and
have to live on shore. Do you happen to know what a midshipman's
half-pay is? Why just nothing at all and find yourself. You talk a
good deal of knowing all about the matter, but it's just clear that you
know nothing."
"I wish, my dear Dick, that we could save enough to help you," said my
mother, who was always ready to assist us in any of our plans; "but you
know how difficult I find it to get even a few shillings to spend."
My mother's remark soothed my irritated feelings and disappointment, or
I should have said something which might not have been pleasant to Aunt
Deb's ears.
We continued talking on the subject, I devising all sorts of plans, and
arguing tooth and nail with Aunt Deb, for I had made up my mind to go to
sea, and to go I was determined by hook or by crook; but that fifty
pounds a year was, I confess, a damper to my hopes of becoming a
midshipman.
If I could have set to work and made the fifty pounds, I would have done
my best to do so, but I was as little likely to make fifty pounds as I
was to make fifty thousand. Aunt Deb also reminded my father that it
was not fifty pounds a year for one year, but fifty pounds for several
years, which he might set down as three hundred pounds, at least, of
which, through my foolish fancy, I should be depriving him, and my
mother, and brothers, and sisters.
There was no denying that, so I felt that I was defeated. I had at
length to go to bed, feeling as disappointed and miserable as I had ever
been in my life. To Ned, the brother just above me in age, who slept in
the same room, I opened my heart.
"I am the most miserable being in the world!" I exclaimed. "I wish
that I had never been born. If it had not been for Aunt Deb father
would have given in, but she hates me, I know, and always has hated me,
and takes a pleasure in thwarting my wishes. I've a great mind to run
off to sea, and enter before the mast just to spite her."
Ned, who was a quiet, amiable fellow, taking much after our kind mother,
endeavoured to tranquillise my irritated feelings.
"Don't talk in that way, Dick," he said in a gentle tone. "You might
get tired of the life, even if you were to go into the navy; but,
perhaps, means may be found, after all, to enable you to follow the bent
of your wishes. All naval captains may not insist on their midshipmen
having an allowance of fifty pounds a year; or, perhaps, if they do,
some friend may find the necessary funds."
"I haven't a friend in the world," I answered. "If my father cannot
give me the money I don't know who can. I know that Aunt Deb would not,
even if she could."
"Cheer up, Dick," said Ned; "or rather I would advise you to go to
sleep. Perhaps to-morrow morning some bright idea may occur which we
can't think of at present. I've got my lessons to do before breakfast,
so I must not stop awake talking, or I shall not be able to arouse
myself."
I had begun taking off my clothes, and Ned waited until he saw me lie
down, when he put out the candle, and jumped into bed. I continued
talking till a loud snore from his corner of the room showed me that he
was fast asleep. I soon followed his example, but my mind was not idle,
for I dreamed that I had gone to sea, become a midshipman, and was
sailing over the blue ocean with a fair breeze, that the captain was
talking to me and telling me what a fine young sailor I had become, and
that he had invited me to breakfast with him, and had handed me a plate
of buttered toast and a fresh-laid egg; when, looking up, I saw his
countenance suddenly change into that of Aunt Deb.
"Don't you wish you may get it?" he said. "Before you eat that, go on
deck and see what weather it is."
Of course I had to go, when to my astonishment I found the ship rolling
and pitching; the foam-covered seas tossing and roaring; the officers
shouting and bawling, ordering the men to take in sail. Presently there
came a crash, the masts went by the board, the seas dashed over the
ship, and I found myself tumbling about among the breakers, until it
seemed almost in an instant I was thrown on the beach, where I lay
unable to crawl out of the way of the angry waters, which threatened
every moment to carry me off again. In vain I tried to work my way up
the sands with my arms and legs. Presently down I came, to find myself
sprawling on the floor.
"What can have made all that row?" exclaimed Ned, starting up, awakened
by the noise of my falling out of bed.
"I thought I was shipwrecked," I answered.
"I'm glad you are not," said Ned. "So get into bed again, and if you
can go to sleep, dream of something else."
Feeling somewhat foolish, I did as he advised, but I had first to put my
bed-clothes to rights, for I had dragged them off with me to the floor.
It was no easy matter, although I was assisted by the pale light of
early morning, which came through the chinks of the shutters.
In a short time afterwards Ned again got up to go to his books, for he,
being somewhat delicate, was studying under our father, while I, who had
been sent to school, had just come home for the holidays. I had a
holiday task, but had no intention of troubling myself about it at
present. I was, therefore, somewhat puzzled to know what to do. While
I was dressing, it occurred to me that I would go over to Leighton Park
with my rod, to try the ponds, hoping to return with a basket of fish.
I might go there and get an hour's fishing, and be back again before
breakfast. I tried to persuade Ned to accompany me, but he preferred to
stick to his books.
"Much good may they do you," I answered, rather annoyed. "Why can't you
shut them up for once in a way. It's a beautiful morning, and by going
early we are sure to have plenty of sport, and you can learn your
lessons just as well after breakfast."
"Not if I had been out three or four hours fishing, and came home wet
and dirty; and I want to get my studies over while the day is young, and
the air fresh and pure. I can read twice as well now as I shall be able
after breakfast."
"Well, if you are so unsociable, I must go by myself," I said, getting
down my rod from the wall on which it hung with my fishing-tackle and
basket. Swinging the latter over my shoulder I crept noiselessly out of
the room and down stairs. No one was stirring, so I let myself out by a
back door which led into the garden. Even our old dog "Growler" did not
bark, for he was, I suppose, taking his morning snooze after having been
on the watch all night.
Before setting off I had to get some bait. I found a spade in the
tool-house and proceeded with it to a certain well-known heap in the
corner of the kitchen garden, full of vivacious worms of a ruddy hue,
for which fish of all descriptions had a decided predilection. Even
now, whenever I smell a similar odour to that which emanated from the
heap, the garden and its surroundings are vividly recalled to my mind.
I quickly filled a box, which I kept for the purpose, with wriggling
worms. It had a perforated lid, and contained damp moss.
"I ought to have thought of getting these fellows yesterday and have
given them time to clean themselves," I said to myself. "They'll do,
notwithstanding, although they will not prove as tough as they ought."
Shouldering my rod I made my way out of the garden by a wicket gate, and
proceeded across the fields on which it opened towards Leighton Park.
The grass was wet with dew, the air was pure and fresh, almost cold; the
birds were singing blithely in the trees. A lark sprang up before me,
and rose into the blue air, warbling sweetly to welcome the rising sun,
which he could see long before its rays glanced over the ground on which
I was walking. I could not help also singing and whistling, the bright
air alone being sufficient to raise my spirits. I hurried away, as I
was eager to begin fishing, for I wanted the fish in the first place,
and I knew in the second that Ned would laugh at me if I came back empty
handed. The pond to which I was going, although supplied by the same
stream which fed the ornamental piece of water in the neighbourhood of
the Hall, was at a distance from it, and was accessible without having
to pass through the grounds. It was surrounded by trees, and one side
of the bank was thickly fringed by sedges which extended a considerable
way into the water. It served as a preserve for ducks and wild fowl of
various descriptions, and was inhabited also by a number of swans, who
floated gracefully over its calm surface. As they were accustomed to
depend upon their own exertions for a subsistence, they generally kept
at a distance from strangers, and I had never been interrupted by them
when fishing. I made my way to a spot where I knew that the water was
deep, and where I had frequently been successful in fishing. It was a
green bank, which jutted out into a point, with bushes on one side, but
perfectly free on the other. I quickly got my rod together, and my hook
baited with a red wriggling worm. I did not consider that the worm
wriggled because it did not like to be put on the hook, but if I had
been asked I should have said that it was rather pleased than otherwise
at having so important a duty to perform as catching fish for my
pleasure. I had a new float, white above and green below, which I
thought looked very pretty as I threw my line out on the water. Up it
popped at once, there being plenty of lead. Before long it began to
move, gliding slowly over the surface, then faster and faster. I
eagerly held my rod ready to strike as soon as it went down; now it
moved on one side, now on the other. I knew that there was a fish
coquetting with the bait, trying perhaps to suck off the worm without
letting the hook run into its jaws. Before long down went the float,
and I gave my rod a scientific jerk against the direction in which the
float was last moving, when to my intense satisfaction I felt that I had
hooked a fish, but whether a large or a small one I could not at first
tell. I wound up my line until I had got it of a manageable length,
then drew it in gradually towards the bank. I soon discovered that I
had hooked a fine tench. It was so astonished at finding itself dragged
through the water, without any exertion of its fins, that it scarcely
struggled at all, and I quickly hauled it up on the bank. It was
three-quarters of a pound at least, one of the largest I had ever
caught. It was soon unhooked and placed safely in my basket. As I
wanted several more I put on a fresh worm, and again threw my line into
the water.
Some people say there is no pleasure in float-fishing, but for me it
always had a strange fascination, that would not have been the case, if
I could have seen through the water, for I believe the interest depends
upon not knowing what size or sort of fish has got hold of the hook,
when the float first begins to move, and then glides about as I have
described, until it suddenly disappears beneath the surface. I caught
four or five fine tench in little more than twice as many minutes. I
don't know why they took a fancy to bite so freely that fine bright
morning. Generally they take the hook best of a dull, muggy day, with a
light drizzling rain, provided the weather is warm. After I had caught
those four fish, I waited for fully ten minutes more without getting
another bite; at last, I came to the conclusion that only those four
fish had come to that part of the pond. There was another place a
little further on, free of trees and bushes, where I could throw my line
without the risk of its being caught in the bushes above my head; I had
not, however, generally gone there. Tall sedges lined the shore, and
water-lilies floated on the greater part of the surface and its
immediate neighbourhood. It was also somewhat difficult to get at,
owing to the dense brushwood which covered the ground close to it. I
waited five minutes more, and then slinging my basket behind my back, I
made my way to the spot I have described. After catching my line two or
three times in the bushes, and spending some time in clearing it, I
reached the bank and unslinging my basket quickly, once more had my
float in the water. The ground, which was covered with moss rather than
grass, sloped quietly down to the water, and was excessively slippery.
As I held my rod, expecting every moment to get a bite, I heard a low
whistling sound coming from the bushes close to me. At first I thought
it was produced by young frogs, but where they were I could not make
out. I observed that several of the swans I have before mentioned were
floating on the surface not far off. Now one, now another would put
down its long neck in search of fish or water insects. Presently one of
them caught sight of me, and came swimming rapidly towards the extreme
point of the bank. In an instant it landed, and half-flying,
half-running over the ground, came full at me through the bushes. To
retreat was impossible, should it intend to attack me, but I hoped it
would not venture to do so. Before, however, I had any time for
considering the matter, it suddenly spread its powerful wings, with one
of which it dealt me such a blow, that before I could recover I was sent
down the slippery bank, and plunged head over heels into the water. In
my fright I let go my rod, but instinctively held out my hands to grasp
whatever I could get hold of.
The swan, not content with its first success, came after me, when, by
some means or other. I caught hold of it by one of its legs. To this
day I don't know how it happened. The water was deep, and I had very
little notion of swimming, and having once got hold of something to
support myself I was not inclined to let go, while the swan was as much
astonished at being seized hold of as I was. I shouted and bawled for
help, although, as no one was likely to be at the pond at that early
hour, or passing in the neighbourhood, there was little chance of
obtaining assistance.
Away flew the swan, spreading out her broad wings to enable her to rise
above the surface. Instead of seeking the land, to my horror, she
dragged me right out towards the middle of the pond; while the other
swans, alarmed at seeing the extraordinary performance of their
companion, flew off in all directions. Fortunately I was able to keep
my head above the surface, but was afraid of getting a kick from the
other leg of the swan as she struck the water with it to assist herself
in making her onward way, but as I held her captive foot at arm's
length, fortunately she did not touch me. I dared not let go with one
of my hands, or I should have tried to seize it. Whether it was
instinct or not which induced her to carry me away from her nest I
cannot tell, but that seemed to be her object. I felt as if I was in a
horrid dream, compelled to hold on, and yet finding myself dragged
forward against my will. The pond was a long and narrow one, but it
seemed wider than it had ever done before. The swan, instead of going
across to the opposite bank, took a course right down the centre. My
shouts and shrieks must have filled her with alarm. On and on she went
flapping her huge wings. I knew that my life depended upon being able
to hold fast to her foot, but my arms were beginning to ache, and it
seemed to me that we were still a long way from the end. When we got
there, I could not tell what she might do. Perhaps, I thought, she
might turn round and attack me with beak and wings, when, exhausted by
my struggles, I should be unable to defend myself. Still I dared not
venture to let go. I heartily wished that I had been a good swimmer,
because then, when we got near the end, I might have released her and
struck out, either for one side or the other. As it was, my safety
depended on being dragged by her to the shore. She frequently struck
the water with her wings. Showers of spray came flying over my head,
which prevented me from seeing how near I was to it. At last I began to
fear that I should be unable to hold on long enough. My arms ached, and
my hands felt cramped, still the love of life induced me not to give in.