"Looks like a ship's longboat, sir; but she's right under the sun, and I
can't make her out."
"Any one in her?"
"No, sir; not a soul."
The conversation was between the captain and one of the foremast men of
the good ship _Sultan_, bound from a western city with passengers and
sugar to the port of Bristol. The wind was very light, and men were up
aloft, setting the main top-gallant sail, when the boat was sighted only
a little way out of the vessel's course.
Then the captain argued, as he took a look at her from the main-top,
that a boat like that might be battered, and not worth the trouble of
picking up; but, on the other hand, she might; and finally, after taking
the first-mate into debate, it was decided to steer a point or two to
the west and pick her up.
"For who knows what she may have aboard, or what good ship may have been
wrecked?" the skipper said to one of the passengers brought on deck by
the news of a boat in sight, for such an event broke the monotony of the
tedious voyage.
As the news spread through the ship the rest of the passengers came on
deck, and when the boat was neared, the captain, as he stood inspecting
the object through his glass, began to be satisfied that the find was in
good condition, and then the announcement came from aloft that there
were two bodies lying in the bottom.
The excitement now became fierce; one of the ship's boats was swung out
on the davits ready for lowering, manned, and dropped, and finally the
prize was brought alongside, with its freight still alive, but
apparently at their last gasp.
Fortunately the captain was a man of old experience in the tropics, and
noting that there was neither food nor water on board, he put the right
construction upon the poor fellows' condition--that they were dying of
hunger and thirst, after escaping from some wrecked or sinking vessel.
Merchant captains have a smattering of knowledge, and a medicine chest
on board, and there were willing hands to take charge of "the poor
shipwrecked men;" but it was a hard fight with the raging fever and
delirium from which both suffered, and again and again they were given
over, and were still too weak to answer questions when Bristol port was
reached, and they were taken to hospital ashore.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was quite a month before the journey home could be taken in the old
stage-coach bound from Bristol to Plymouth.
But Nic bore it well, for Captain Revel was seated by his side, holding
his hand as if afraid that after all his son might slip from his grasp
and the old suffering recommence.
"It nearly killed me before, my boy," he said piteously, as he urged his
son to be careful not to exert himself in the least. "I gave you up for
dead, and I was following you fast, Nic, for I don't believe I should
have lived another year."
"I'll take care, father; never fear," said the young man cheerily, for,
though thin and worn, his eyes were brightening, and there were signs of
returning health in his cheeks. "I only need a good, quiet rest in the
old place, where I can lie and watch the sea, or go down the shady old
combe, to listen to the falls and watch the salmon leap."
"Ugh! don't talk about the fish," cried the Captain, with a shudder;
"they were the cause of all this suffering."
"Oh no," said Nic, smiling. "It was all that terrible mistake."
"Well, don't let's talk about the past," said the Captain hurriedly; "or
only about one thing, my boy. I did want to consult you about that
fellow who's up aloft with William Solly."
"About Pete, father?"
"Yes, the scoundrel! He was as bad as the salmon."
"Poor old Pete!" said Nic, smiling. "He saved my life over and over
again, father. I want you to take him into your service."
"What! that poacher who used to defy us all?"
"Poachers make the best keepers, father, when they reform; and Pete has
proved himself a good man and true. Will you tell him he is to stay?"
"I'll keep a dozen of such fellows if you'll only get strong and well
again, my boy," said the old sailor eagerly. "I'll tell him next time
we change horses. But I shall never forgive Lawrence."
"What, father!" cried Nic, smiling. "Why?"
"An old comrade like he has always been, to have such a stupid blunder
made by those under his command."
"A terrible mistake, father; but, to be quite fair, it was all my doing,
and I was hoist with my own petard."
"No, no, Nic; you're wrong," said the old man, "and William Solly--an
impudent rascal!--was right."
"How, father?"
"Well, my boy, it was all my fault for making such a fuss about a few
salmon. William Solly had the insolence to tell me I made a trouble
about nothing, and wanted a real one to do me good. This has been a
real one, Nic, and I've suffered bitterly."
"But there's fair weather ahead, father."
"Please God, my boy," said the old man piously, and with his voice
trembling, "and--and there, Nic, I've got you back again, and you will
get well, my boy--you will get well, won't you?"
"Fast, father," replied Nic, pressing the old man's hand.
Nic did mend rapidly in the rest and quiet of his old home, where one
day Captain Lawrence, newly returned from a long voyage, came to see his
old friend, and heard Nic's adventures to the end.
"A bitter experience, my dear boy," he said; "but let's look to the
future now: never mind the past."
But one day, when the convalescents had been for two months drinking in
the grand old Devon air, Nic was rambling through the combe with Pete,
both pretty well strong again, when the latter said:
"I want to be zet to work now, Master Nic, or to be zent away; for I
feel as if I ought to be doing zomething, instead of idling about here."
"You've talked like that before, Pete," said Nic, smiling. "Have a
little patience, and then you shall begin."
"But it zeems zo long, zir. I zay, though, it's rather queer, isn't it,
for me to be water bailiff and keeper over the vish as I used to take.
Think Humpy Dee and them others will get away and come back again?"
"I hope so," said Nic slowly and thoughtfully. "They deserved their
punishment, but they will have had enough by now."
"Nay, you're a bit too easy, Master Nic. Humpy's a down bad one, and I
should like the others to have one year more out yonder, and Humpy too."
"Too long for white slaves, Pete," said Nic. "We have suffered with
them, and know what the sufferings are; so I forgive them. What say
you?"
"Zame as you do, Master Nic; o' course, that is, if they don't come back
and meddle with our zalmon again--_our zalmon_! That zounds queer,
Master Nic, don't it? I can't quite feel as if it's all true."
"But it is true, Pete; and we are here safe in the good old home, after
what seems now like an ugly dream."
"Dinner-bell's rung twice, Master Nic," said William Solly, coming upon
them suddenly from behind the trees; "and you can't 'spect to get your
strength up proper if you aren't reg'lar at the mess. I run out to look
for you, to keep the skipper from--Well, there now--if he aren't come to
look for you hisself! Give him a shout, and say you're coming."
Nic hailed, and hurried back to meet the old officer, while William
Solly turned to Pete:
"Come along, messmet; the beef and soft tack's waiting. And so you're
going to stop here altogether!"
"I s'pose so," said Pete.
"And we're to be messmets reg'lar sarving under Captain Revel and Master
Nic?"
"That's it," said Pete sturdily.
"Well," said Solly, "I aren't jealous, for you did the right thing by
the young master; so let's shake hands."
This was solemnly done, and Solly went on:
"As good a skipper as ever stepped a deck, and as fine a boy as ever
breathed. Pete, messmet, you've dropped into a snug thing."
"Which that zame I know," said Pete gruffly.
"But you saved Master Nic's life, and the skipper's too, by bringing the
young master back; and I'm glad you're going to stay. So suppose we
shakes hands agen?"
They did, as if they meant it, too.
They did mean it, and somehow a great attachment sprang up between those
two men, while as time rolled on Nic smiled more than once on meeting
them consulting together about matters connected with the estate, and
made Solly wince.
At last, after a good deal of hesitation, Solly turned upon his young
master.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said; "speaking respeckful like--"
"What is it?" said Nic, for the man stopped.
"Well, sir, you know; and it goes hard on a chap as is doing his dooty
and wants to keep things straight."
"I still don't understand you, Solly," said Nic.
"Well, sir, it's all along o' that there chap, Pete: you never ketch me
a-talking to him, and giving him a bit o' good advice about what the
skipper likes done, but you grins."
"Grins?"
"Oh, it's no use to make believe, Master Nic, because you do, and it
hurts."
"They were not grins," said Nic. "I only smiled because I was glad to
see you two such good friends."
"Ho!" ejaculated Solly; "that was it, sir? I thought you was grinning
and thinking what an old fool I was."
"Nothing of the sort."
"Well, I'm glad o' that, Master Nic, though it do seem a bit queer that
I should take a lot o' notice of a feller as fought agen us as he did.
But we aren't friends, sir."
"Indeed!" said Nic.
"It's on'y that I can't help taking a bit to a man as stood by you as he
did over yonder in furren abroad. You see, a man like that's got the
making of a good true mate in him."
"Yes, Solly, of as good a man as ever stepped."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two years had passed, when one day Solly watched his opportunity of
catching Nic alone in the grounds, and followed him.
"Master Nic!" he whispered hoarsely.
The young man turned round, and Solly "made a face" at him. That is to
say, he shut his left eye very slowly and screwed up the whole of his
countenance till it was a maze of wrinkles.
"What is it, Solly?"
"Pete's over yonder, sir, by the combo, and wants to speak to you."
"Oh, very well, I'll go," said Nic, and the old sailor nodded, looked
mysterious, slapped his mouth to indicate that it was a secret mission,
and hurried away.
"What does it all mean?" said Nic to himself. "Why, I do believe Pete
is going to tell me that he wants to be married, and to ask if my father
will object."
He reached the combe, to find Pete, now a fine sturdy-looking Devon man
in brown velveteen jacket and leather gaiters, counting the salmon in
the pool.
Pete turned sharply directly he heard Nic approach, and the serious look
in the man's face told that something unusual had occurred.
"Morn', Master Nic, zir."
"What is it, Pete? Surely you don't mean that we've had poachers
again?"
"Poachers it be, zir," said the man mysteriously; "but they won't come
here again. Master Nic, there's three on 'em come back, and I've zeen
'em."
"What! From the plantation?"
"Yes, zir; after a long spell of it they managed to give the dogs zome
poison stuff they got out of the woods. The blacks told 'em of it.
Manshy something it was."
"Manchioneel! I know," said Nic.
"That's it, zir, and it killed 'em. They got away in a boat--a new un,
I s'pose."
"I'm glad they escaped, poor fellows," said Nic; "but is that scoundrel
Dee with them?"
Pete was silent.
"Dead, Pete?"
"Yes, zir, 'fore we'd been gone two months," said the man gravely. "He
went at Zaunders one day with his hoe, and nearly killed him; but the
dogs heard the fight, and rushed down."
"Ah! the dogs!" cried Nic.
"Yes, zir, and what with their worrying and a shot he'd had from
Zaunders, it meant a couple o' the blacks with spades, and a grave in
the woods."
"Horrible!" ejaculated Nic.
"Yes, zir, horrible. Humpy allus hated me, and I s'pose I never liked
him; but if I'd been there, zir, I'd ha' helped him fight for his life
agen them zavage dogs."
"I know you would, Pete," cried Nic warmly. "But what about these men--
are they going to stay in the neighbourhood?"
"Not they, zir. They belong to the crew of a ship in Plymouth harbour;
and zomehow they got to know that I was here. They walked all the way
o' purpose to wish me luck and zhake hands and zay they hadn't aught
agen me, for they'd found out how it was they was took. It was poor
Humpy as made 'em believe it was me. They went back lars night."
"Poor Humpy!" said Nic wonderingly.
"Well, yes, zir. You zee, he waren't like other men," said Pete simply.
"He was born all crooked and out o' shape and ugly, and got teased and
kicked about when he was a boy; and I zuppose it made him zour and
evil-tempered. Then he grew up stronger than other men, and he got to
love getting the better of them as had knocked him about. I dunno, but
it allus zeemed zo to me. Well, poor chap, he's dead, and there's an
end on it."
"Yes," said Nic, gravely repeating the man's words, "there's an end of
it."