"Why, wot _do_ you mean?"
"Well, Bob, I mean that as I've never yet begun to drink, it ain't
possible for me to leave it off, d'ee see, though I was to try ever so
hard. Howsever, I'll become an abstainer all the same, just to keep
company along wi' you."
Bob Lumsden gave a short laugh, and then, resuming his earnest air,
said--
"Pat, I've found out that Dick Martin, the scoun'rel, has bin to Mrs
Mooney's hut again, an' now I'm sartin sure it was him as stole the
'ooman's money--not because I heerd him say so to Mr Binning, but
because Eve told me she saw him flattenin' his ugly nose against her
window-pane last night, an' recognised him at once for the thief.
Moreover, he opened the door an' looked into the room, but seein' that
he had given Eve a terrible fright, he drew back smartly an' went away."
"The willain!" exclaimed Pat Stiver, snapping his teeth as if he wanted
to bite, and doubling up his little fists. It was evident that Bob's
news had taken away all his tendency to jest.
"Now it's plain to me," continued Bob, "that the willain means more
mischief. P'r'aps he thinks the old 'ooman's got more blunt hid away in
her chest, or in the cupboard. Anyhow, he's likely to frighten poor Eve
out of her wits, so it's my business to stop his little game. The
question is, how is it to be done. D'ee think it would be of any use to
commoonicate wi' the police?"
The shaking of Pat Stiver's head was a most emphatic answer.
"No," said he, "wotiver you do, have nothin' to do wi' the p'leece.
They're a low-minded, pig-headed set, wi' their `move on's,' an' their
`now then, little un's;' an' their grabbin's of your collars, without no
regard to w'ether they're clean or not, an' their--"
"Let alone the police, Pat," interrupted his friend, "but let's have
your adwice about what should be done."
After a moment's consideration, the small boy advised that Mrs Mooney's
hut should be watched.
"In course," he said, "Dick Martin ain't such a fool as to go an' steal
doorin' the daytime, so we don't need to begin till near dark. You are
big an' strong enough now, Bob, to go at a man like Dick an' floor him
wi a thumpin' stick."
"Scarcely," returned Bob, with a gratified yet dubious shake of his
head. "I'm game to try, but it won't do to risk gettin' the worst of it
in a thing o' this sort."
"Well, but if I'm there with another thumpin' stick to back you up,"
said Pat, "you'll have no difficulty wotsumdever. An' then, if we
should need help, ain't the `Blue Boar' handy, an' there's always a lot
o' hands there ready for a spree at short notice? Now, my adwice is
that we go right off an' buy two thumpin' sticks--yaller ones, wi' big
heads like Jack the Giant Killer--get 'em for sixpence apiece. A heavy
expense, no doubt, but worth goin' in for, for the sake of Eve Mooney.
And when, in the words o' the old song, the shades of evenin' is closin'
o'er us, we'll surround the house of Eve, and `wait till the brute rolls
by!'"
"You're far too poetical, Pat, for a practical man, said his friend.
Howsomediver, I think, on the whole, your adwice is not bad, so well try
it on. But wot are we to do till the shades of evenin' comes on?"
"Amoose ourselves," answered Pat promptly.
"H'm! might do worse," returned his friend. "I s'pose you know I've got
to be at Widow Martin's to take tea wi' Fred an' his bride on their
return from their weddin' trip. I wonder if I might take you with me,
Pat. You're small, an' I suppose you don't eat much."
"Oh, don't I, though?" exclaimed Pat.
"Well, no matter. It would be very jolly. We'd have a good blow-out,
you know; sit there comfortably together till it began to git dark, and
then start off to--to--"
"Go in an' win," suggested the little one.
Having thus discussed their plans and finished their coffee, the two
chivalrous lads went off to Yarmouth and purchased two of the most
formidable cudgels they could find, of the true Jack-the-Giant-Killer
type, with which they retired to the Denes to "amoose" themselves.
Evening found them hungry and hearty at the tea-table of Mrs Martin--
and really, for the table of a fisherman's widow, it was spread with a
very sumptuous repast; for it was a great day in the history of the
Martin family. No fewer than three Mrs Martins were seated round it.
There was old Granny Martin, who consented to quit her attic window on
that occasion and take the head of the table, though she did so with a
little sigh, and a soft remark that, "It would be sad if he were to come
when she was not watching." Then there was widow Martin, Fred's
mother--whose bad leg, by the way, had been quite cured by her legacy.
And lastly, there was pretty Mrs Isa Martin, Fred's newly-married wife.
Besides these there were skipper Lockley of the _Lively Poll_, and his
wife Martha--for it will be remembered Martha was cousin to Isa, and
Stephen's smack chanced to be in port at this time as well as the
_Sunbeam_ and the _Fairy_, alias the _Ironclad_, which last circumstance
accounts for Dick Martin being also on shore. But Dick was not invited
to this family gathering, for the good reason that he had not shown face
since landing, and no one seemed to grieve over his absence, with the
exception of poor old granny, whose love for her "wandering boy" was as
strong and unwavering as was her love to the husband, for whose coming
she had watched so long.
Bob Lumsden, it may be remarked, was one of the guests, because Lockley
was fond of him; and Pat Stiver was there because Bob was fond of _him_!
Both were heartily welcomed.
Besides the improvement in Mrs Martin's health, there was also vast
improvement in the furniture and general appearance of the attic since
the arrival of the legacy.
"It was quite a windfall," remarked Mrs Lockley, handing in her cup for
more tea.
"True, Martha, though I prefer to call it a godsend," said Mrs Martin.
"You see it was gettin' so bad, what wi' standin' so long at the tub,
an' goin' about wi' the clo'es, that I felt as if I should break down
altogether, I really did; but now I've been able to rest it I feel as if
it was going to get quite strong again, and that makes me fit to look
after mother far better. Have some more tea, granny!"
A mumbled assent and a pleased look showed that the old woman was fully
alive to what was going on.
"Hand the butter to Isa, Pat. Thankee," said the ex-washerwoman. "What
a nice little boy your friend is, Bob Lumpy! I'm so glad you thought of
bringin' him. He quite puts me in mind of what my boy Fred was at his
age--on'y a trifle broader, an' taller, an stouter."
"A sort of lock-stock-an'-barrel difference, mother," said Fred,
laughing.
"I dun know what you mean by your blocks, stocks, an' barrels," returned
Mrs Martin, "but Pat is a sight milder in the face than you was, an I'm
sure he's a better boy."
The subject of this remark cocked his ears and winked gently with one
eye to his friend Bob, with such a sly look that the blooming bride, who
observed it, went off into a shriek of laughter.
"An' only to think," continued Mrs Martin, gazing in undisguised
admiration at her daughter-in-law, "that my Fred--who seems as if on'y
yesterday he was no bigger than Pat, should have got Isa Wentworth--the
best lass in all Gorleston--for a wife! You're a lucky boy!"
"Right you are," responded Fred, with enthusiasm. "I go wi' you there,
mother, but I'm more than a lucky boy--I'm a highly favoured one, and I
thank God for the precious gift; and also for that other gift, which is
second only to Isa, the command of a Gospel ship on the North Sea."
A decided chuckle, which sounded like a choke, from granny, fortunately
called for attentions from the bride at this point.
"But do 'ee really think your mission smack will do much good?" asked
Martha Lockley, who was inclined to scepticism.
"I am sure of it," replied Fred emphatically. "Why, we've done some
good work already, though we have bin but a short time wi' the fleet. I
won't speak of ourselves, but just look at what has bin done in the way
of saving drunkards and swearers by the _Cholmondeley_ in the short-Blue
Fleet, and by the old _Ensign_ in the Fleet started by Mr
Burdett-Coutts, the _Columbia_ fleet, and in the other fleets that have
got Gospel ships. It is not too much to say that there are hundreds of
men now prayin' to God, singin' the praises o' the Lamb, an' servin'
their owners better than they ever did before, who not long ago were
godless drunkards and swearers."
"Men are sometimes hypocrites," objected Martha; "how d'ee know that
they are honest, or that it will last?"
"Hypocrites?" exclaimed Fred, pulling a paper hastily from his pocket
and unfolding it. "I think you'll admit that sharp men o' bussiness are
pretty good judges o' hypocrites as well as of good men. Listen to what
one of the largest firms of smack-owners says: `Our men have been
completely revolutionised, and we gladly become subscribers of ten
guineas to the funds of the Mission.' Another firm says, `What we have
stated does not convey anything like our sense of the importance of the
work you have undertaken.'"
"Ay, there's something in that," said Martha, who, like all sceptics,
was slow to admit truth.
We say not this to the discredit of sceptics. On the contrary, we think
that people who swallow what is called "truth" too easily, are apt to
imbibe a deal of error along with it. Doubtless it was for the benefit
of such that the word was given--"Prove all things. Hold fast that
which is good."
Fred then went to show the immense blessing that mission ships had
already been to the North Sea fishermen--alike to their souls and
bodies; but we may not follow him further, for Bob Lumsden and Pat
Stiver claim individual attention just now.
When these enterprising heroes observed that the shades of evening were
beginning to fall, they rose to take their leave.
"Why so soon away, lads?" asked Fred.
"We're goin' to see Eve Mooney," answered Bob. "Whatever are the boys
goin' to do wi' them thick sticks?" exclaimed Martha Lockley.
"Fit main an fore masts into a man-o'-war, I suppose," suggested her
husband.
The boys did not explain, but went off laughing, and Lockley called
after them--
"Tell Eve I've got a rare lot o' queer things for her this trip."
"And give her my dear love," cried Mrs Fred Martin.
"Ay, ay," replied the boys as they hurried away on their self-imposed
mission.