streamed in and laid his glorious mandate upon me and all sluggards
to be up and stirring. Raynor, who had the berth above me, seemed
to have obeyed the call still earlier, for he was gone. Mounting, a
little later, to the poop-deck, I arrived just in time to find him
in conversation with the odd-looking little Dutchman I had noticed
watching Raynor at dinner, and to hear the former say, in that
queer-sounding Cape English, which, at a few paces distant, is hardly
to be distinguished from Cape Dutch: ‘My name is Jan van Poontjes; and
I remember better as anything ’ow I met you six or five months ago by
Pieteraasvogelfontein with young Alister of the Kaapstadt Bank, eh?’
To which Raynor replied: ‘I can only assure you again, sir, that you
are mistaken. My name is Paul Raynor, and I have never had the honour
of seeing you in my life before.’ Turning on his heel, Mynheer van
Poontjes shuffled away, expressing _sotto voce_ his readiness to be
immediately converted into ‘biltong,’ if he wasn’t right about the
‘_verdomd Englischmann_.’
Directly he caught sight of me, Raynor left his seat, and coming
hastily forward, said: ‘Mr Rodd, I owe you many apologies for my
unpardonable rudeness of last night. I am blessed with the vilest of
tempers, which, after years of effort, is not yet under my control.
Will you forget the episode? Believe me, I shall not offend again.’
My answer need not be recorded. But it struck me as odd at the time,
that when our reconciliation was complete, and we were pacing the
deck for the short half-hour before breakfast, my companion made no
reference whatever to the Dutchman’s mistake, not even evincing the
slightest curiosity to know whether Poontjes was the same man whose
regards I had observed so intently fixed upon him. Possibly he was
not aware that I had been a witness of the interview, or, as seemed
more probable, he avoided alluding to a subject so directly tending to
recall his extraordinary outburst of the previous night.
The voyage was a quiet one enough, in spite of the very large
number of passengers. Three really charming sisters were undergoing
a well-sustained siege at the hands of a dozen or so of the most
presentable young men, and at least one engagement was shortly
expected. Theatricals were projected; but fortunately the ‘company’
would _not_ attend rehearsals, and we were spared. One or two
concerts were got up, at which feeble young men complacently rubbed
fiddle-strings with rosined bows, and evoked flat and melancholy
sounds, expressing no surprise when subsequently complimented on their
‘violin-playing.’ An opulent but unlovely Jew from the Diamond Fields
created a diversion by singing, without notice given, a song of the
music-hall type—refrain, ‘Oh, you ridic’lous man, why dew yer look so
shy!’ &c.; and was genuinely hurt when the captain suggested his ‘going
for’ard next time he wanted an audience for _that_ song.’ Several
ladies, of several ages, displayed their varied musical acquirements;
and Raynor surprised everybody one day by giving us the _Village
Blacksmith_ in a round clear baritone, of which no one imagined him to
be the possessor.
During these first ten days at sea, Raynor had, apparently without
any striving after popularity, established himself as a universal
favourite. The children adored him from the first, thereby securing him
a straight road to the mothers’ hearts, who in their turn spoke warmly
in his praise to the younger ladies on board. These last felt strongly
his superiority to the other very ordinary young men, enjoyed his
conversation greatly, and were perhaps the least bit afraid of him.
Raynor’s fondness for and influence with children were altogether
remarkable. Early in the voyage, a tiny trot of four had tripped
and fallen sharply on the deck at his feet. As he lifted her ever
so tenderly in his arms and stroked the poor little hurt knee, the
child looked up at him through her tears and asked: ‘Is you _weally_
sorry?’ ‘Yes, indeed—I am, Nellie.’ ‘Then me’s better,’ came the
little sobbing answer; and forthwith she nestled closer to him, and
was comforted. This incident evidently produced a profound effect upon
the other children playing near, who thereafter lost no opportunity of
showing ‘the tall man’ that he might consider himself entirely one of
themselves.
My own intimacy with him grew daily stronger, and our mutual friendship
became so firm that we began to project various plans of business and
pleasure for months to come in England. How often, in after-days, did
I stop to think wonderingly of the man’s earnestness, the intense
absorption with which he would ponder upon the relative merits of
different undertakings, each more certain than the last to make our
fortunes! Was he for the moment actually deceiving himself? or did
the habit of concentrated thought forbid him to discuss otherwise
than gravely, projects of whose very initiation he alone knew the
impossibility?
Raynor spent his money freely, though without ostentation; and I hardly
knew whether to be surprised or not when he applied to me one day for a
loan of twenty-five pounds, explaining that he had lost rather heavily
at cards during the past few days, and having only brought a limited
supply of ready cash for the voyage, he found himself for the moment
rather inconveniently short. Fortunately, I was in a position to supply
his needs; and when we went ashore at Madeira the next afternoon, he
invested a small fortune in sweets, toys, and native gimcracks for his
army of little friends on board, including an exquisite model of one
of the quaint little Funchal carts, destined for a poor crippled lad
amongst the passengers in the fore-part of the ship.
* * * * *
Four or five days later, and signs of the approaching end began to be
visible in the shape of Railway Guides on the saloon tables, great ease
in the procuring of hitherto impossible luxuries from the stewards, and
the appearance on the scene of certain towzled officials not previously
observed, but with ‘backsheesh’ writ plain on each grimy feature.
Raynor and I had during the last few days matured our plans for the
immediate future. These were to include a week in town, another on the
river, some visits to friends, and, if possible, a few days with the
grouse towards the end of August. After this, a tentative negotiation
with a City House with a view to the fruition of a certain scheme upon
which my friend built great hopes.
Musing pleasurably upon these and other prospective delights, I turned
in at ten o’clock, determined to get a few hours’ good sleep before
reaching Plymouth—where we expected to put in at four or five o’clock
in the morning, to land mails and some few passengers—the rest going on
with the ship to Southampton. I had not slept more than an hour or two
at most, when I was awakened by a sensation, known to even the soundest
of sleepers, as if something were going on near me of which I ought to
know. Looking out half-dreamily from my berth, I saw that Raynor was
standing in the cabin, a lighted taper placed on a small shelf near
him. I was about to close my eyes, when I became aware that there was
something unusual in his appearance and actions. Instead of undressing
himself for the night, he stood half bent over a locker opposite, upon
which was lying open the travelling-bag I have referred to as being
the object of his special care at the outset of the voyage. From this
he drew one after another a number of small brown packets, in size
and look not unlike gun-cartridges—which, indeed, in the dim light of
the taper, I took them to be—hurriedly passing them into the various
pockets of a light overcoat I now noticed him to be wearing. Still
drowsily watching his movements, I was surprised to see him unroll from
a bundle of wraps a thick heavy ulster, and putting it on, proceed to
transfer more of the queer little brown-paper parcels to the pockets
of this second garment. I was now fairly awake, and with a perhaps
rather tardy recognition of the unfairness of my espionage, I coughed
an artfully prepared cough, so toned as to convey the impression that I
had that moment come from the land of dreams.
‘Hullo!’ I said, with the uneasy drawl of somnolence, ‘is that you?’
He started, and made a movement as if trying to stand full between me
and the valise, as he answered: ‘Yes; I am just putting away one or
two things.’ Then, after a moment’s pause, during which I heard him
lock and fasten the bag, ‘I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘you will think me a
terribly shifty fellow, Peter, but the fact is, I know those old people
in Cornwall will never forgive me if I don’t go and see them whilst I’m
at home; and I’m equally positive that if I put it off now, I shall
never get anywhere near them’——
‘And so you’ve suddenly made up your mind to get out at Plymouth, and
leave me to go on to town alone,’ said I, interrupting, with a feeling
of keener disappointment than I cared to show. ‘I see it all. Never
mind. I can bear it. I was born to suffer.’
‘So you will say when I have finished,’ was the laughing reply. ‘After
all, though, it is only putting off our little jaunt for a few days.
Meanwhile, will you do me a favour? I cannot descend upon the old folks
with a heap of luggage; and besides, this concern’—pointing to the
valise—‘holds everything I am likely to need. Therefore, I want you,
like a good boy as you are, to pass through the Customs with your own
things, my two portmanteaus which are in the hold, and take them up to
town with you. Go to the rooms you spoke of, and I will join you in a
week from to-day.’
‘All right, you unblushing deserter. Have it as you will. But remember,
if you are not at No. 91 Savile Street by Thursday evening next, I
shall “cause your goods to be sold to defray expenses, and reserve to
myself the right of deciding what to do with the proceeds,” as the
Tipperary lawyers have it.’
‘Do; only keep something to remind you of the biggest scoundrel you are
ever likely to know,’ he replied, laughing again, but with a curious
ring in his voice, of which, I think, I shall never quite lose the
memory. Its effect at the moment was to set me thinking whether this
new move of Paul’s might not portend the upsetting of all our schemes.
‘Here, Peter,’ he went on—‘here is what I owe you, with many thanks.
You don’t mind having it all in gold, do you? Those fellows have been
giving me a very decent revenge at loo the last night or two, and this
is the result!’ holding up a handful of sovereigns, and proceeding to
pour twenty-five of them with a horrible clatter into my washing-basin.
‘Haven’t you got any English notes?’ I asked, wondering sleepily what
I should do with all these sovereigns in addition to an existing small
supply of my own.
‘Not one,’ answered Raynor. ‘Now, go to sleep; and I’ll come down
and awake you when we’re within anything like reasonable distance of
Plymouth. It’s no use turning in for the short time that’s left, so I
shall go up and smoke a pipe and watch for the first sight of the land
of my birth.’ He then went out into the soft air of the July night,
looking strangely uncouth in a superfluity of wraps such as no man
would throw about him only to meet the light breeze that just precedes
a summer dawn.
A few hours afterwards, I was leaning over the taffrail waving good-bye
to my friend as he stood near the wheel of the little tender that bore
him and some half-dozen others to the shore. There had been a deep
sadness in his eyes at parting; and the foreboding of the night before
changed now to a chill conviction that Paul Raynor and I should meet no
more.
* * * * *
‘So your friend has just now landed already, eh?’ said the voice of
Mr van Poontjes, a gentleman with whom I had not exchanged a dozen
words during the voyage, but who now, planting himself heavily on the
deck-chair next mine, gave evidence of his intention to put a full stop
to my enjoyment of the book which I was struggling to finish before
delivering it to its owner that evening.
‘Yes,’ I replied wearily, wondering a little whether this worthy but
slightly repulsive individual was going to stay long, and mentally
laying plans of escape to meet the contingency.
‘Well, now,’ he continued, ‘I dessay you consider your Mister Raynor a
jolly fine feller, eh?’
Suppressing the instantaneous impulse to take the little boer by the
collar and shake him, I answered: ‘Mr Raynor is a friend of mine, as
you are aware; and as I am not in the habit of discussing my friends
with strangers, perhaps you will leave me to my book!’
‘Strangers, eh! Stranger to you, per’aps, yes! but not stranger to
Mister—what do you call ’im?—Raynor! Eh, I could tell you something’——
‘Now, look you here, Mr van Poontjes,’ I burst out; ‘you have
courageously waited to speak like this until Mr Raynor is no longer
here to answer you. But I happen to have heard that gentleman inform
you with his own lips that he had never set eyes on you until the day
you met on board this ship; and therefore to say that you are not a
stranger to Mr Raynor is equivalent to the assertion that Mr Raynor has
told a lie. You had better not dare to repeat that statement either to
me or to any other passenger on board.—Now, good-morning; and take care
that mischievous tongue of yours doesn’t get you into trouble yet!’
As the little crowd that these angry words had brought about us moved
away, a few clustering inquisitively round the little Dutchman, my
reading was once more postponed by Jack Abinger, the second officer,
a man with whom Raynor and I had struck up something of a friendship.
‘Hullo, Rodd,’ he said, strolling up to where I sat, ‘what’s all the
row about? I saw you from my cabin standing in the recognised attitude
of the avenger, apparently slating Mynheer van Poontjes as if he were a
pickpocket.’ After listening to my story of what had occurred, he said:
‘Ah, a clear case of mistaken identity! But, I say, talking of Paul
Raynor, it was a pity, as far as he was concerned, that we couldn’t
have got to Plymouth a day or two earlier.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked surprisedly.
‘Only, that he would have gone ashore a richer man by a good bit.
Surely he told you what a bad time he’s been having of it lately?
Anybody else would have been stone-broke long ago. And last night, by
way of a finish, that unspeakable little reptile, Barnett Moss, took a
lot of money out of him at écarté. Never saw a man hold such cards in
my life!’
‘It’s a good thing Paul was able to pay the little beast,’ I said,
trying to speak easily, and miserably failing, as I recalled what had
passed between us the night before.
‘Pay!’ replied Abinger; ‘I believe you! Why, Paul must have brought a
perfect bank on board with him! I only hope he hasn’t lost enough to
spoil his holiday.’
‘Never mind, Jack; he’ll be all right. He has gone to stay with friends
in Cornwall for a week—to economise, I expect.’
‘A week!’ shouted Jack. ‘Why, I know I shouldn’t be able to go ashore
for the next year or two, if I had had his bad luck!’ And he ran off on
some duty or other, leaving me in perplexed and restless cogitation.
If, as Abinger said, Paul had ‘brought a perfect bank on board with
him’—the words ran in my head—what could have been his object in
seeking to produce exactly the opposite impression upon myself—even
going so far as to borrow money during the voyage ostensibly to
replace his losses—repaying the amount, too, at the very moment when
his ill-luck had reached a climax, with a few light words about the
‘revenge’ which, as it now appeared, he had been so very far from
obtaining? The whole affair was inexplicable and disquieting; and I
was glad when the necessity for making my final preparations left me
little further time for thoughts which, do what I would, kept crossing
the border-line into the hateful regions of doubt.
A SKATING REGIMENT.
BY A NORWEGIAN.
The following account of a Norwegian corps of soldiers, called in
their language _skielober-corpset_, as they existed some years since,
will no doubt be interesting to readers of your _Journal_. Whether any
changes have been made of late years, the writer is unable to say. The
denomination _skielober_ (skater) comes from _skie_, which signifies a
long plank, narrow and thin, fastened upon the feet for sliding on the
snow.
It is well known that during four or five months of the year Norway is
covered with snow, which at a few leagues’ distance from the borders
of the sea is driven into such heaps as to render it impossible for
the traveller to go out of the beaten track, either on foot or on
horseback. It is even found necessary to clear this road after every
fall of snow, which is done by means of a machine in the form of a
plough, pointed at the front, and of a triangular shape. It is drawn by
horses. It pierces and levels the snow at one and the same time, and
thus opens a passable road. Notwithstanding these difficulties, hunting
has at all times been the great sport and exercise of that country,
formerly abounding in fierce animals, and still in deer and most kinds
of smaller game. Hunting is indeed an occupation which appears to be in
a peculiar manner prescribed to the inhabitants by the shortness of the
days and the length of the winters. It is therefore natural that the
Norwegian should have occupied himself from the earliest period about
the means of quitting his hut and penetrating into the forest in every
direction and with all possible speed. The _skier_ or skates presented
these means.
Let us figure in our minds two planks of wood as broad as the hand, and
nearly of the thickness of the little finger, the middle underneath
being hollowed, to prevent vacillation, and to facilitate the advancing
in a direct line. The plank fastened under the left foot is ten feet
in length; that intended for the right is only six, or thereabouts;
both of them are bent upwards at the extremities, but higher before
than behind. They are fastened to the feet by leather straps, attached
to the middle, and for this purpose are formed a little higher and
stronger in that part. The plank of the right foot is generally lined
below with the skin of the reindeer or the sea-wolf, so that in drawing
the feet successively in right and parallel lines with skates thus
lined with skins, and very slippery in the direction of the hair, the
skater finds them nevertheless capable of resistance, by affording
a kind of spring when he would support himself with one foot in a
contrary direction, as by such movements he raises up the hair or
bristly part of the skin. It is affirmed that an expert skater, however
loose and uncompact the snow may be, will go over more ground in an
open place, and will continue his course for a longer time together,
than the best horse can do upon the trot over the finest and best
paved road. If a mountain is to be descended, he does it with such
precipitation, that he is obliged to moderate his flight, to avoid
losing his breath. He ascends more slowly, and with some trouble,
because he is compelled to make a zigzag course; but he arrives at the
summit as soon as the best walker or foot-soldier, with this advantage,
that however little consistence the snow may have acquired, he can
never sink into it.
Experience has proved that in spite of the multiplied obstacles
produced by the rigour of the winter, the Norwegians have often been
attacked by their enemies in precisely such seasons; and from the above
manner of going out to hunt, and undertaking long journeys, it was
not at all surprising that the forming of a military corps of skaters
should be thought of. The whole body consisted of two battalions,
one stationed in the north, the other in the south. Its strength was
nine hundred and sixty men. The uniform consisted of a short jacket
or waistcoat, a gray surtout with a yellow collar, gray pantaloons,
and a black leather cap. The skater’s arms were—a carabine, hung in a
leather belt passing over the shoulder; a large _couteau de chasse_;
and a staff three yards and a half long, to the end of which is affixed
a pointed piece of iron. At a little distance from the extremity it
is surrounded by a circular projecting piece of iron, which serves
principally to moderate his speed in going down-hill. The skater then
puts it between his legs, and contrives to draw it in that manner; or
he drags it by his side; or uses it to help himself forward, when he
has occasion to ascend a hill; in short, he makes use of it according
to the occasion and the circumstances in which he may be placed.
Besides this, it affords a support to the firelock, when the skater
wishes to discharge its contents. With such a rest, the Norwegian
peasant fires a gun dexterously, and very seldom misses his aim.
The corps of skaters, to this service adds that of the ordinary
chasseurs, of which they might be considered as making a part; they
fulfil all the functions of those troops, and only differ from them
by marching on skates. This gives them a considerable advantage over
others. The skaters, moving with great agility, and, from the depth
of the snow, being out of the reach of the pursuit of cavalry as well
as infantry, are enabled with impunity to harass the columns of the
enemy in their march, on both sides of the road, running little or no
danger themselves. Even cannon-shot could produce little effect upon
men spread here and there at the distance of two or three hundred
paces. Their motions are besides so quick, that at the moment when it
is believed they are still to be aimed at, they have disappeared, to
come in sight again when least expected. Should the enemy be inclined
to take his repose, this is the precise time for the skater to show
his superiority, whatever may have been the precautions taken against
him. There is no moment free from the attack of troops which have
no need of either roads or bypaths; crossing indifferently marshes,
lakes, and rivers, provided there be but ice and snow. No corps could
be more proper in winter for reconnoitring and giving accounts of the
enemy, and, in short, for performing the functions of couriers. It
may be conceived, however, that they find great difficulty in turning,
on account of the length of their skates. This, however, is not the
case; they make a retrograde motion with the right foot, to which the
shortest plank is attached, and put it vertically against the left.
They then raise the left foot, and place it parallel to the right, by
which movement they have made a _half_-face; if they would face about,
they repeat the manœuvre.
In the ordinary winter exercise, the skaters draw up in three ranks, at
the distance of three paces between each file, and eight paces between
each rank, a distance which they keep in all their movements—whenever
they do not disperse—in order that they may not be incommoded in the
use of their skates. When there is occasion to fire, the second and
third ranks advance towards the first. Their baggage—kettles, bottles,
axes, &c.—is conveyed upon sledges, or carriages fixed on skates, and
easily drawn by men, by the help of a leather strap passing from the
right shoulder to the left side, like that of a carabineer.
ECHOES.
Ofttimes when Even’s scarlet flag
Floats from the crest of distant woods,
And over moorland waste and crag
A weary, voiceless sorrow broods;
Around me hover to and fro
The ghosts of songs heard long ago.
And often midst the rush of wheels,
Of passing and repassing feet,
When half a headlong city reels
Triumphant down the noontide street,
Above the tumult of the throngs
I hear again the same old songs.
Rest and Unrest—’tis strange that ye,
Who lie apart as pole from pole,
Should sway with one strong sovereignty
The secret issues of the soul;
Strange that ye both should hold the keys
Of prisoned tender memories.
It maybe when the landscape’s rim
Is red and slumberous round the west,
The spirit too grows still and dim,
And turns in half-unconscious quest
To those forgotten lullabies
That whilom closed the infant’s eyes.
And maybe, when the city mart
Roars with its fullest, loudest tide,
The spirit loses helm and chart,
And on an instant, terrified,
Has fled across the space of years
To notes that banished childhood’s fears.
We know not—but ’tis sweet to know
Dead hours still haunt the living day,
And sweet to hope that, when the slow
Sure message beckons us away,
The Past may send some tuneful breath
To echo round the bed of death.
L. J. G.
* * * * *
Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON,
and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH.
* * * * *
_All Rights Reserved._