HUNGER DRIVES HIM A-FISHING.
In the summer of the year 1782, I, David Llewellyn, of Newton-Nottage,
fisherman and old sailor, was in great distress and trouble, more than I
like to tell you. My dear wife (a faithful partner for eight-and-twenty
years, in spite of a very quick temper) was lately gone to a better
world; and I missed her tongue and her sharp look-out at almost every
corner. Also my son (as fine a seaman as ever went aloft), after helping
Lord Rodney to his great victory over Grass the Frenchman, had been lost
in a prize-ship called the Tonner, of 54 guns and 500 Crappos, which
sank with all hands on her way home to Spithead, under Admiral Graves.
His young wife (who had been sent to us to see to, with his blessing) no
sooner heard of this sad affair as in the Gazette reported, and his pay
that week stopped on her, but she fell into untimely travail, and was
dead ere morning. So I buried my wife and daughter-in-law, and lost all
chance to bury my son, between two Bridgend market-days.
Now this is not very much, of course, compared with the troubles some
people have. But I had not been used to this matter, except in case of a
messmate; and so I was greatly broken down, and found my eyes so weak of
a morning, that I would not be seen out of doors, almost.
The only one now to keep a stir or sound of life in my little cottage,
which faces to the churchyard, was my orphan grandchild "Bunny,"
daughter of my son just drowned, and his only child that we knew of.
Bunny was a rare strong lass, five years old about then, I think; a
stout and hearty-feeding child, able to chew every bit of her victuals,
and mounting a fine rosy colour, and eyes as black as Archangel pitch.
One day, when I was moping there, all abroad about my bearings, and no
better than water-ballasted, the while I looked at my wife's new broom,
now carrying cobweb try-sails, this little Bunny came up to me as if she
had a boarding-pike, and sprang into the netting hammocks of the best
black coat I wore.
"Grand-da!" she said, and looked to know in what way I would look at
her; "Grand-da, I must have sumkin more to eat."
"Something more to eat!" I cried, almost with some astonishment, well as
I knew her appetite; for the child had eaten a barley-loaf, and two
pig's feet, and a dog-fish.
"Yes, more; more bexfass, grand-da." And though she had not the words to
tell, she put her hands in a way that showed me she ought to have more
solid food. I could not help looking sadly at her, proud as I was of her
appetite. But, recovering in a minute or two, I put a good face upon it.
"My dear, and you shall have more," I said; "only take your feet out of
my pocket. Little heart have I for fishing, God knows; but a-fishing I
will go this day, if mother Jones will see to you."
For I could not leave her alone quite yet, although she was a brave
little maid, and no fire now was burning. But within a child's trot from
my door, and down toward the sandhills, was that famous ancient well of
which I spoke just now, dedicate to St John the Baptist, where they used
to scourge themselves. The village church stood here, they say, before
the inroad of the sand; and the water was counted holy. How that may be,
I do not know; but the well is very handy. It has a little grey round
tower of stone domed over the heart of it, to which a covered way goes
down, with shallow steps irregular. If it were not for this plan, the
sand would whelm the whole of it over; even as it has overwhelmed all
the departure of the spring, and the cottages once surrounding it. Down
these steps the children go, each with a little brown pitcher, holding
hands and groping at the sides, as they begin to feel darker. And what
with the sand beneath their feet, and the narrowing of the roof above,
and the shadows moving round them, and the doubt where the water begins
or ends (which nobody knows at any time), it is much but what some
little maid tumbles in, and the rest have to pull her out again.
For this well has puzzled all the country, and all the men of great
learning, being as full of contrariety as a maiden courted. It comes and
goes, in a manner, against the coming and going of the sea, which is
only half a mile from it; and twice in a day it is many feet deep, and
again not as many inches. And the water is so crystal-clear, that down
in the dark it is like a dream. Some people say that John the Baptist
had nothing to do with the making of it, because it was made before his
time by the ancient family of De Sandford, who once owned all the manors
here. In this, however, I place no faith, having read my Bible to better
purpose than to believe that John Baptist was the sort of man to claim
anything, least of all any water, unless he came honestly by it.
In either case, it is very pretty to see the children round the entrance
on a summer afternoon, when they are sent for water. They are all a
little afraid of it, partly because of its maker's name, and his having
his head on a charger, and partly on account of its curious ways, and
the sand coming out of its "nostrils" when first it begins to flow.
That day with which I begin my story, Mrs Jones was good enough to take
charge of little Bunny; and after getting ready to start, I set the
thong of our latch inside, so that none but neighbours who knew the
trick could enter our little cottage (or rather "mine" I should say
now); and thus with conger-rod, and prawn-net, and a long pole for the
bass, and a junk of pressed tobacco, and a lump of barley-bread, and a
maybird stuffed with onions (just to refine the fishiness), away I set
for a long-shore day, upon as dainty a summer morn as ever shone out of
the heavens.
"Fisherman Davy" (as they call me all around our parts) was fifty and
two years of age, I believe, that very same July, and with all my heart
I wish that he were as young this very day. For I never have found such
call to enter into the affairs of another world, as to forget my
business here, or press upon Providence impatiently for a more heavenly
state of things. People may call me worldly-minded for cherishing such a
view of this earth; and perhaps it is not right of me. However, I can
put up with it, and be in no unkindly haste to say "good-bye" to my
neighbours. For, to my mind, such a state of seeking, as many amongst us
do even boast of, is, unless in a bad cough or a perilous calenture, a
certain proof of curiosity displeasing to our Maker, and I might even
say of fickleness degrading to a true Briton.
The sun came down upon my head, so that I thought of bygone days, when I
served under Captain Howe, or Sir Edward Hawke, and used to stroll away
upon leave, with half a hundred Jacks ashore, at Naples, or in Bermudas,
or wherever the luck might happen. Now, however, was no time for me to
think of strolling, because I could no longer live at the expense of the
Government, which is the highest luck of all, and full of noble dignity.
Things were come to such a push that I must either work or starve; and
could I but recall the past, I would stroll less in the days gone by. A
pension of one and eightpence farthing for the weeks I was alive (being
in right of a heavy wound in capture of the Bellona, Frenchman of
two-and-thirty guns, by his Majesty's frigate Vesta, under Captain Hood)
was all I had to hold on by, in support of myself and Bunny, except the
slippery fish that come and go as Providence orders them. She had sailed
from Martinique, when luckily we fell in with her; and I never shall
forget the fun, and the five hours at close quarters. We could see the
powder on the other fellows' faces while they were training their guns
at us, and we showed them, with a slap, our noses, which they never
contrived to hit. She carried heavier metal than ours, and had sixty
more men to work it, and therefore we were obliged at last to capture
her by boarding. I, like a fool, was the first that leaped into her
mizen-chains, without looking before me, as ought to have been. The
Frenchmen came too fast upon me, and gave me more than I bargained for.
Thus it happened that I fell off, in the very prime of life and
strength, from an able-bodied seaman and captain of the foretop to a
sort of lurcher along shore, and a man who must get his own living with
nets and rods and suchlike. For that very beautiful fight took place in
the year 1759, before I was thirty years old, and before his present
most gracious Majesty came to the throne of England. And inasmuch as a
villanous Frenchman made at me with a cutlash, and a power of blue oaths
(taking a nasty advantage of me, while I was yet entangled), and thumped
in three of my ribs before a kind Providence enabled me to relieve him
of his head at a blow--I was discharged, when we came to Spithead, with
an excellent character in a silk bag, and a considerable tightness of
breathing, and leave to beg my way home again.
Now I had not the smallest meaning to enter into any of these
particulars about myself, especially as my story must be all about other
people--beautiful maidens, and fine young men, and several of the prime
gentry. But as I have written it, so let it stay; because, perhaps,
after all, it is well that people should have some little knowledge of
the man they have to deal with, and learn that his character and
position are a long way above all attempt at deceit.
To come back once again, if you please, to that very hot day of July
1782--whence I mean to depart no more until I have fully done with
it--both from the state of the moon, I knew, and from the neap when my
wife went off, that the top of the spring was likely to be in the dusk
of that same evening. At first I had thought of going down straight
below us to Newton Bay, and peddling over the Black Rocks towards the
Ogmore river, some two miles to the east of us. But the bright sun gave
me more enterprise; and remembering how the tide would ebb, also how low
my pocket was, I felt myself bound in honour to Bunny to make a real
push for it, and thoroughly search the conger-holes and the
lobster-ledges, which are the best on all our coast, round about Pool
Tavan, and down below the old house at Sker.