BOAT _VERSUS_ BARDIE.
Glad as I was, for the poor child's sake, that Black Evan happened to be
from home, I had perhaps some reason also to rejoice on my own account.
For if anything of any kind could ever be foretold about that most
uncertain fellow's conduct, it was that when in his cups he would
fight--with cause, if he could find any; otherwise, without it.
And in the present case, perhaps, was some little cause for fighting;
touching (as he no doubt would think) not only his marital but manorial
rights of plunder. Of course, between Moxy and myself all was purely
harmless, each being thankful to have no more than a pleasant eye for
the other; and of course, in really serious ways, I had done no harm to
him; that boat never being his, except by downright piracy. Nevertheless
few men there are who look at things from what I may call a large and
open standing-place; and Evan might even go so far as to think that I
did him a double wrong, in taking that which was his, the boat, and
leaving that which should have been mine--to wit, the little maiden--as
a helpless burden upon his hands, without so much as a change of
clothes; and all this after a great day's sport among his rocks, without
his permission!
Feeling how hopeless it would be to reason these matters out with him,
especially as he was sure to be drunk, I was glad enough to say
"Good-night" to my new young pet, now fast asleep, and to slip off
quietly to sea with my little frigate and its freight, indulging also my
natural pride at being, for the first time in my life, a legitimate
shipowner and independent deep-sea fisherman. By this time the tide was
turned, of course, and running strong against me as I laid her head for
Newton Bay by the light of the full moon; and proud I was, without
mistake, to find how fast I could send my little crank barky against the
current, having being a fine oarsman in my day, and always stroke of the
captain's gig.
But as one who was well acquainted with the great dearth of honesty (not
in our own parish only, but for many miles around), I could not see my
way to the public ownership of this boat, without a deal of trouble and
vexation. Happening so that I did not buy it, being thoroughly void of
money (which was too notorious, especially after two funerals conducted
to everybody's satisfaction), big rogues would declare at once, judging
me by themselves, perhaps, that I had been and stolen it. And likely
enough, to the back of this, they would lay me half-a-dozen murders and
a wholesale piracy.
Now I have by nature the very strongest affection for truth that can be
reconciled with a good man's love of reason. But sometimes it happens so
that we must do violence to ourselves for the sake of our
fellow-creatures. If these, upon occasion offered, are only too sure to
turn away and reject the truth with a strong disgust, surely it is dead
against the high and pure duty we owe them, to saddle them with such a
heavy and deep responsibility. And to take still loftier views of the
charity and kindness needful towards our fellow-beings--when they hanker
for a thing, as they do nearly always for a lie, and have set their
hearts upon it, how selfish it must be, and inhuman, not to let them
have it! Otherwise, like a female in a delicate condition, to what
extent of injury may we not expose them? Now sailors have a way of
telling great facts of imagination in the most straightforward and
simple manner, being so convinced themselves that they care not a rope's
end who besides is convinced, and who is not. And to make other people
believe, the way is not to want them to do it; only the man must himself
believe, and be above all reasoning.
And I was beginning to believe more and more as I went on, and the
importance of it grew clearer, all about that ill-fated ship of which I
had been thinking ever since the boat came in. Twelve years ago, as
nearly as need be, and in the height of summer--namely, on the 3d of
June 1770--a large ship called the 'Planter's Welvard,' bound from
Surinam to the Port of Amsterdam, had been lost and swallowed up near
this very dangerous place. Three poor children of the planter (whose
name was J. S. Jackert), on their way home to be educated, had floated
ashore, or at least their bodies, and are now in Newton churchyard. The
same must have been the fate of Bardie but for the accident of that
boat. And though she was not a Dutchman's child, so far as one could
guess, from her wonderful power of English, and no sign of Dutch build
about her, she might very well have been in a Dutch ship with her father
and mother, and little brother and Susan, in the best cabin. It was well
known among us that Dutch vessels lay generally northward of their true
course, and from the likeness of the soundings often came up the Bristol
instead of the English Channel; and that this mistake (which the set of
the stream would increase) generally proved fatal to them in the absence
of any lighthouse.
That some ship or other had been lost, was to my mind out of all
dispute, although the weather had been so lovely; but why it must have
been a Dutch rather than an English ship, and why I need so very plainly
have seen the whole of it myself (as by this time I began to believe
that I had done), is almost more than I can tell, except that I hoped it
might be so, as giving me more thorough warrant in the possession of my
prize. This boat, moreover, seemed to be of foreign build, so far as I
could judge of it by moonlight: but of that hereafter.
The wonder is that I could judge of anything at all, I think, after the
long and hard day's work, for a man not so young as he used to be. And
rocks are most confusing things to be among for a length of time, and
away from one's fellow-creatures, and nothing substantial on the
stomach. They do so darken and jag and quiver, and hang over heavily as
a man wanders under them, with never a man to speak to; and then the
sands have such a way of shaking, and of shivering, and changing colour
beneath the foot, and shining in and out with patterns coming all astray
to you! When to these contrary vagaries you begin to add the loose
unprincipled curve of waves, and the up and down of light around you,
and to and fro of sea-breezes, and startling noise of sea-fowl, and a
world of other confusions, with roar of the deep confounding them--it
becomes a bitter point to judge a man of what he saw, and what he thinks
he must have seen.
It is beneath me to go on with what might seem excuses. Enough that I
felt myself in the right; and what more can any man do, if you please,
however perfect he may be? Therefore I stowed away my boat (well earned
both by mind and body) snugly enough to defy, for the present, even the
sharp eyes of Sandy Macraw, under Newton Point, where no one ever went
but myself. Some of my fish I put to freshen in a solid mass of
bladder-weed, and some I took home for the morning, and a stroke of
business after church. And if any man in the world deserved a downright
piece of good rest that night, with weary limbs and soft conscience, you
will own it was Davy Llewellyn.
Sunday morning I lay abed, with Bunny tugging very hard to get me up for
breakfast, until it was almost eight o'clock, and my grandchild in a
bitter strait of hunger for the things she smelled. After satisfying
her, and scoring at the "Jolly Sailors" three fine bass against my shot,
what did I do but go to church with all my topmost togs on? And that not
from respect alone for the parson, who was a customer, nor even that
Colonel Lougher of Candleston Court might see me, and feel inclined to
discharge me as an exemplary Churchman (when next brought up before
him). These things weighed with me a little, it is useless to deny; but
my main desire was that the parish should see me there, and know that I
was not abroad on a long-shore expedition, but was ready to hold up my
head on a Sunday with the best of them, as I always had done.
At one time, while I ate my breakfast, I had some idea perhaps that it
would be more pious almost, and create a stronger belief in me, as well
as ease my own penitence with more relief of groaning, if I were to
appear in the chapel of the Primitive Christians, after certain fish
were gutted. But partly the fear of their singing noise (unsuitable to
my head that morning after the Hollands at Sker-house), and partly my
sense that after all it was but forecastle work there, while the church
was quarter-deck, and most of all the circumstance that no magistrate
ever went there, led me, on the whole, to give the preference to the old
concern, supported so bravely by royalty. Accordingly to church I went,
and did a tidy stroke of business, both before and after service, in the
way of lobsters.
We made a beautiful dinner that day, Bunny and I, and mother Jones, who
was good enough to join us; and after slipping down to see how my boat
lay for the tide, and finding her as right as could be, it came into my
head that haply it would be a nice attention, as well as ease my mind
upon some things that were running in it, if only I could pluck up
spirit to defy the heat of the day, and challenge my own weariness by
walking over to Sker-Manor. For of course the whole of Monday, and
perhaps of Tuesday too, and even some part of Wednesday (with people not
too particular), must be occupied in selling my great catch of Saturday:
so I resolved to go and see how the little visitor was getting on, and
to talk with her. For though, in her weariness and wandering of the
night before, she did not seem to remember much, as was natural at her
tender age, who could tell what might have come to her memory by this
time, especially as she was so clever? And it might be a somewhat
awkward thing if the adventures which I felt really must have befallen
her should happen to be contradicted by her own remembrance: for all I
wanted was the truth; and if her truths contradicted mine, why, mine
must be squared off to meet them; for great is truth, and shall prevail.
I thought it as well to take Bunny with me, for children have a
remarkable knack of talking to one another, which they will not use to
grown people; also the walk across the sands is an excellent thing for
young legs, we say, being apt to crack the skin a little, and so
enabling them to grow. A strong and hearty child was Bunny, fit to be
rated A.B., almost, as behoved a fine sailor's daughter. And as proud as
you could wish to see, and never willing to give in; so I promised
myself some little sport in watching our Bunny's weariness, as the sand
grew deeper, and yet her pride to the last declaring that I should not
carry her.
But here I reckoned quite amiss, for the power of the heat was
such--being the very hottest day I ever knew out of the tropics, and the
great ridge of sandhills shutting us off from any sight of the
water--that my little grandchild scarcely plodded a mile ere I had to
carry her. And this was such a heavy job among the deep dry mounds of
sand, that for a time I repented much of the over-caution which had
stopped me from using my beautiful new boat at once, to paddle down with
the ebb to Sker, and come home gently afterwards with the flow of the
tide towards evening. Nevertheless, as matters proved, it was wiser to
risk the broiling.
This heat was not of the sun alone (such as we get any summer's day, and
such as we had yesterday), but thickened heat from the clouds
themselves, shedding it down like a burning-glass, and weltering all
over us. It was, though I scarcely knew it then, the summing-up and
crowning period of whole weeks of heat and drought, and indeed of the
hottest summer known for at least a generation. And in the hollows of
yellow sand, without a breath of air to stir, or a drop of moisture, or
a firm place for the foot, but a red and fiery haze to go through, it
was all a man could do to keep himself from staggering.
Hence it was close upon three o'clock, by the place the sun was in, when
Bunny and I came in sight of Sker-house, and hoped to find some water
there. Beer, of course, I would rather have; but never was there a
chance of that within reach of Evan Thomas. And I tried to think this
all the better; for half a gallon would not have gone any distance with
me, after ploughing so long through sand, with the heavy weight of
Bunny, upon a day like that. Only I hoped that my dear little grandchild
might find something fit for her, and such as to set her up again; for
never before had I seen her, high and strong as her spirit was, so
overcome by the power and pressure of the air above us. She lay in my
arms almost as helpless as little Bardie, three years younger, had lain
the night before; and knowing how children will go off without a man's
expecting it, I was very uneasy, though aware of her constitution. So in
the heat I chirped and whistled, though ready to drop myself almost; and
coming in sight of the house, I tried my best to set her up again,
finding half of her clothes gone down her back, and a great part of her
fat legs somehow sinking into her Sunday shoes.