A HAPPY HOLIDAY.
In after years, when Joshua was many thousands of miles away from
Stepney, Dan loved to linger over the memory of one especially happy
day which he, and Joshua, and Ellen and the Old Sailor spent together.
Upon that day the sun was rising now; and Dan, lying in bed, was
waiting impatiently for the solemn and merry church-bells to strike
the hour of seven. His Sunday clothes were smoothly laid out upon a
chair, close to his bed. Had the day not been an eventful one, he
would not have been allowed to wear his best suit in the middle of the
week. When Joshua makes his appearance in Dan's bedroom, it will be
seen that he will also be dressed in his best clothes. The secret of
all this is, that the lads had received permission from their parents
to spend the day with the Old Sailor at the waterside, and were to be
taken in a cart to the Old Sailor's castle--the barge near the Tower
Stairs. Twenty times at the least had Dan said to Joshua, "I should so
like to see the Old Sailor, Jo!" And Joshua, in the most artful
manner, had fished for the invitation, which would have been very
readily given had the Old Sailor been aware of Joshua's desire. But
Joshua, like a great many other diplomatists who think themselves wise
in their generation, went to work in a subtle roundabout way, and so
gave himself a vast deal of trouble, which would have been saved had
he come straight to the point at once. At length, one day, when the
Old Sailor had said, "And how is Dan, Josh?" and Joshua had answered
that he thought Dan was beginning to grow strong, he ventured to add,
with inward fear and trembling: "And he would so much like to see you,
sir, and hear some of your sea-stories! When I tell them they don't
sound the same as when you tell them. There's no salt in them." Artful
Joshua! "Well, my lad," the Old Sailor had said with a chuckle (he was
not insensible to flattery, the old dog!), "why not bring him here to
spend the day?"
"When shall it be, sir?" asked Joshua secretly delighted.
"Next Wednesday, Josh," said the Old Sailor. So next Wednesday it was.
And Joshua ran to Dan's house wild with delight, and coaxed Dan's
parents in to giving their permission.
It was on this very Wednesday morning that Dan was lying awake,
waiting for seven o'clock to strike. He awoke at least two hours
before the proper time to rise; and those hours appeared to him to be
longer than hours ever were before. The ride itself would be an event
in Dan's life; but it was not to be compared with what was to come
afterwards--the spending of a whole day and night in a house on the
water. During the past week Dan had been in a fever of pleasurable
anticipation, and in a fever of fright also, lest it should rain upon
this particular day. The previous night it _had_ rained; and Dan,
lying awake for a longer time than usual, had prayed for the rain to
go away. Ellen--standing at the window in his bedroom, after she had
got out his clean shirt and Sunday clothes, and brushed and smoothed
them, and taken up a stitch in them here and there, as women (and
girls after them) say--had seen the spots of rain falling, and,
joining her prayer to his, had begged very earnestly to the rain to go
away and come again another day.
And now the day was dawning; and Dan, opening his eyes, clapped his
hands in delight to see the sun shining so brightly upon the broken
jug which stood upon the window-sill, and in which was a handful of
the sweet-smelling humble wall-flower. The pair of bullfinches which
Joshua had bought for the Old Sailor were busily at work in their
cage, which was hanging at the window, and were as conscious of the
beauty of the morning as the most sensible human being could possibly
be. Dan was so delighted that he whistled "Rule, Britannia! Britannia
rules the waves!" And one of the bullfinches, after abstracting the
last hemp-seed from the glass containing their morning meal,
immediately piped out with fervid patriotism, "For Britons never,
_never_, NE-_ver_ shall be slaves!" From this episode the reader will
learn that the education of the bullfinches was completed. "Rule,
Britannia," was not their sole vocal accomplishment. They could
whistle "And did you not hear of a jolly young waterman?" in a very
superior manner. On that day the bullfinches were to be presented to
their new master--to whom not a hint had been given of the pleasant
surprise in store for him; which made it all the more delightful.
While the patriotic bullfinch was asserting in the most
melodiously-persuasive notes that "Britons never, _never_, NE-_ver_
shall be slaves," its mate was engaged drawing up water in the tiniest
little bucket in the world--another of the accomplishments (coming,
presumably, under the head of "extras")which patient Dan had taught
the birds in order to win the heart of the Old Sailor. The industrious
bullfinch had a remarkably rakish eye, which flashed saucily and
impatiently as the music fell upon its ears. The slender rope which
held the bucket being in its beak, it could not join in the harmony;
but directly the bucket was hauled up and secured, it whetted its
whistle, and piped out in opposition,--
"And did you not hear of a jolly young waterman,
Who at Blackfriars-bridge used for to ply?
He feathered his oars with such skill and dexterity,
Winning each heart and delighting each eye;"
repeating, as was its wont, the last line, "Winning each heart and
delighting each eye," so as to produce a greater effect. I do not
assert that the bullfinch actually uttered the words, but I _do_
assert positively that it sang the music of them with the most
beautiful trills that mortal ever heard.
But there was the solemn church-bell striking seven o'clock in tones
less solemn than usual, and there was the joyous church-bell following
suit. And as if the sound had conjured him up, there was Joshua,
dressed in his best, and looking so fresh and handsome with his
holiday-face on, that Dan might well be proud of him. He had his
accordion under his arm, and in one hand was a bunch of flowers which
Dan was to give to the Old Sailor, and in the other a glass containing
some rape-seed soaked in canary-wine for the birds. They knew as well
as possible--knowing little bullfinches!--that Joshua had something
nice for them; and as he approached the cage they came as close to him
as they could, and, to show their appreciation of his kindness,
greeted him with a gush of the sweetest melody. What better beginning
could there be for a happy holiday!
When Dan was dressed the lads went into the kitchen to have breakfast.
And there was Ellen, as fresh as a daisy. The breakfast things were
laid; and there was a clean cloth (not damask, mind!) on the deal
table, and there, absolutely, were two new-laid eggs, one for Joshua
and one for Dan, which Ellen had bought and paid for with her own
money the day before, without saying a word about it. Ellen stooped
and kissed Dan, and as she raised her head Joshua looked at her, and
felt a huge longing to take her face between his two hands and kiss
her, as he used to do in the time when they played sweethearts
together. But he hadn't the courage. Yet he could not help looking at
Ellen again and thinking, What a pretty girl Ellen is! and then,
seeing Ellen's eyes fixed upon his, he turned away his head and
blushed. And Ellen smiled at that, and, if she had been asked, really
could not have told the reason why. Surely never was such a happy
commencement to a holiday, and never was such a happy couple as Dan
and Joshua! After all, are not simple pleasures the best? Are not
those the sweetest pleasures that cost the least?
What put it into Joshua's head? Was it the sentiment of perfect
happiness that actuated the wish? Or was it a passing shadow, lighter
than the lightest cloud, that passed over Ellen's face, as the lads
were talking of the coming delights of the day? It was there but a
moment, but Joshua saw it, or thought he did, and thought also that
there was regret in it. Or was it Ellen's pretty face, or the little
piece of blue ribbon that she had put round her neck, the puss? For
Ellen was fair, and knew what colors best suited her complexion.
Whatever it was that actuated it, there was Joshua saying, just as
they had sat down to breakfast and Ellen was pouring out the
milk-and-water--you may imagine that there was not a great deal of tea
drank in Stepney--there was Joshua saying,--
"Ellen, I wish you were coming with us."
Ellen's hand shook so that she spilt some of the milk-and-water, and a
spasm rose in her throat, for she had wished the same thing fervently,
but had never spoken of it. She checked the spasm, hoping that her
emotion would not be noticed, and answered not a word. But she looked.
Such a look!
Dan was biting into a slice of bread-and-butter, but directly he heard
Joshua's wish, and saw the yearning, look that sprang into Ellen's
eyes, he ceased eating, and leaned his head upon his hand.
"I think I am very selfish," he said, and hot tears gushed into his
eyes.
In an instant Ellen was by his side, and Ellen's face was close to
his. Any one who saw that action, any one who could understand the
quick sympathy that caused her to put her face so close to Dan's, to
show that she knew what he was reproaching himself for, might have
been able to comprehend the depth of unselfish tenderness that dwelt
in the soul of that little maid. Ah! it was only in a kitchen, but how
beautiful it was to see!
"Don't bother about me, my dear," she said almost in a whisper. "If
you are happy, I am happy." And then she added, pretending to be
comically indignant, "You stupid Dan! I've a good mind to rumple your
hair! You selfish, indeed!"
"I am selfish!" exclaimed Dan, looking up and thinking--just as Joshua
had thought--that he had never seen her look so pretty. "I _am_
selfish, Joshua!" he cried, so energetically that Joshua was quite
startled. "What would the Old Sailor say?"
"But, Dan"--said Ellen.
"Seriously, Jo" said Dan, putting his hand over Ellen's mouth, "what
_would_ the Old Sailor say?"
"The Old Sailor would be delighted."
"Now, look here," said Dan, with a determination almost comical in its
intensity when one considered what inspired it; as if it were a
question of tremendous national consequence, or something in which
mighty interests were involved; "are you sure?"
"I am sure he would be delighted, Dan," replied Joshua without the
slightest hesitation.
"It's of no use, Dan and Josh dear," said Ellen, shaking her head.
"You musn't think of it. I can't go. Mother wouldn't be able to spare
me. Why, don't you know"--
"Don't I know what, Ellen?" asked Dan.
"Don't you know that it's washing-day?" said Ellen with a sharp nod,
as if that settled the question.
Dan's head was still resting upon his hand. He pondered for a few
moments, and then raising his head, said, "Good little Ellen;" and
kissed her. "Now let us have breakfast."
Breakfast being over, Dan said he wanted to see Susan.
"Tell her I want to speak to her most particularly," he said to Ellen.
"And, Ellen! when Susan comes, you go out of the room, and Joshua as
well. I want to speak to her quite privately."
Ellen and Joshua left Susan with Dan, and went into the passage; which
gave Joshua opportunity to ask Ellen if she remembered when he used to
be pushed into the coal-cellar. Yes, Ellen remembered it very well
indeed; and they both laughed over the reminiscence.
"How black your face used to be!" exclaimed Ellen.
"And yours too, Ellen!" retorted Joshua saucily.
Whereat Ellen blushed, and did not reply.
What passed between Susan and Dan was never divulged. It was nothing
very dreadful, you may be sure; for when Dan called to Joshua and
Ellen to come in, they found him smiling. Susan was gone, but
presently she entered again with a radiant face and nodded to Dan, who
nodded to Susan in return, and said gayly,--
"Thank you, Susey!"
When Susan went into the passage, she wiped her eyes, and did not once
look round to see if any thing was behind her. That day, over the
washing-tub, Susan was happier than she had been for a long time.
Then Dan rubbed his hands, and said, "I really think this is going to
be the happiest day of my life."
The happiest day of my life! How often, and with what various
meanings, are those words uttered! At dinner-parties when the invited
guest rises to respond to the toast of his health, and commences by
saying in tones which falter from emotion, "This is the happiest day
of my life!" At wedding-feasts, if healths are being proposed, when
the bridegroom, the bridegroom's father, and the bride's father, each
in his turn declares, "This is the happiest day of my life!" At the
presentation of testimonials, whether to humbug, worthy man, or fool,
it is "The happiest day of my life!" with one and all of them. With
copious use of pocket-handkerchief, and with face more suitable for a
funeral than for a joyful occasion. But a fig for moralizing on such a
day as this!
Dam's countenance was suffused with a flush of genuine delight, as he
repeated,--
"Yes, Ellen, this is going to be the happiest day of my life."
She gave him a questioning, imploring look, which asked the reason why
as plainly as any words could put the question.
"Come here, and I'll whisper," said Dan.
Ellen put her ear close to his mouth, but Dan, instead of whispering,
blew into her ear, which caused her to start away with a pleasant
shiver, and to cry out that he tickled her. Nothing daunted, however,
she placed her ear a second time to his lips; and then he whispered
something, which made Ellen jump for joy, and hug him round the neck,
and tear out of the room as if she were mad. And almost before you
could say "Jack Robinson!" there she was back again, her eyes all
aglow with excitement, in her modest Sunday dress and pretty Sunday
bonnet.
Susan's voice was heard calling out,--
"Here's the cart at the door!"
"She means our carriage, Jo," said Dan merrily, as Joshua carried him
out.
And there they were, the three of them in the cart; Dan lying his full
length on some straw between Joshua and Ellen, who sat upon a kind of
bench in a state of perfect happiness. And there were the bullfinches
in their cage, wondering what on earth it all meant, but very blithe
and merry notwithstanding. And there was the cart moving, along
slowly, so that Dan should not be jolted. And there they were,
presently, looking at each other, and laughing and nodding pleasantly
without any apparent cause.
Not among all the stars that gem the heavens (which some wise men
assert are really worlds in which forms that have life fulfil the task
ordained by the Master of all the worlds) could there be found a more
beautiful world than this was to our young holiday-folk on that bright
summer morning. Whitechapel the Dingy was as a flower-garden in their
eyes; and as they rode through the busy neighborhood a great many
persons turned to look at the crazy cart--the springs in which were
the only uneasy part of the whole affair--and at the three joyful
faces that peered about, enjoying every thing, and thankful for every
thing, from the flying clouds to the lazy gutters.
Soon they were at the waterside; and soon they were on the barge, with
the Old Sailor welcoming them in downright sailor fashion. Directly
Dan put out his little hand, and felt it imprisoned in the Old
Sailor's immense palm, and directly he looked at the great open face,
pock-marked as it was, and into the staring pleasant eyes, which
returned his look honestly and pleasantly, he nodded to himself in
satisfaction. His delight was unbounded when the Old Sailor lifted him
tenderly, and placed him in a hammock specially prepared for him. He
was deeply impressed by the Old Sailor's thoughtful kindness. The mere
fact of his lying in a hammock was entrancing. And there Dan swung,
and, gazing in wonder upon the busy life of the flowing river, fancied
himself in dreamland.
Before he gave himself up to that trance, however, there was much to
be done and much to be observed. When the Old Sailor lifted him into
the hammock and arranged him comfortably--Dan was surprised that those
great strong hands could be so light and tender--he said to the Old
Sailor, "Thank you, sir;" and the Old Sailor replied, "Ay, ay, my
lad," just as he had read of, and in just the kind of tone he imagined
a sailor would use.
The next thing the Old Sailor did was to rest his hand upon Ellen's
head. Thereupon Joshua said, "You don't mind, Mr. Praiseworthy, do
you?" referring to the liberty they had taken in bringing Ellen
without an invitation. "Mind!" the Old Sailor exclaimed. "A pretty
little lass like this!" and he stooped and kissed her. And Ellen did
not even blush, but seemed to like it. The Old Sailor seemed to like
it too. There was something wonderfully charming in his manner of
saying "Pretty little lass;" none but a downright thoroughbred old tar
could have said it in such a way. And there was something wonderfully
charming in the rough grace with which he accepted the bunch of
flowers from Ellen. His first intention was to stick them in the bosom
of his shirt; but second consideration led him to reflect that their
circumference rendered such a resting-place inappropriate. So he
placed them in a large tin mug, and sprinkled them with water, which
glistened on their leaves as freshly as the dew-kisses which glisten
in the early morning wherever Nature makes holiday. Then Dan took the
cage containing the bullfinches, and asked the Old Sailor to accept
the birds as a present from him and Joshua; and the Old Sailor thanked
him in such cordial terms, that his heart was stirred with a fresh
delight. Truth to tell, the Old Sailor was mightily gratified with the
birds; but, at the same time, he was mightily puzzled as to what he
was to do with them. Prettier little things he had never seen; but,
small and beautiful as they were, they were a responsibility for which
he was not prepared. He stood with his legs wide apart, regarding the
birds with a perplexed expression on his face; and Dan divining what
was in his mind, opened the door of the cage and out hopped the
bullfinches looking about them with an air of having been accustomed
to the water all their lives. As if impelled by a sudden desire to fly
away and join their mates in distant woodlands, they took wing and
fluttered around the hammock in which Dan lay; now coming
tantalizingly near, and now sailing away with an independent air, as
much as to say, "We're off!" But when Dan held out his forefinger, they
came and perched upon it contentedly. The Old Sailor gazed on the
little comedy in admiration. His admiration was increased a hundred
fold when Dan, taking his hand, transferred the birds on to his
forefinger. He looked at the birds timorously; the birds looked at him
confidently. He was afraid to move lest some mischief should happen to
the delicate creatures.
"Put them in the cage, sir," said Dan. The Old Sailor did so. "Now,"
continued Dan, "I will send you food for them regularly; and it will
not be too much trouble for you to fill this well with fresh water
every morning, will it, sir?"
"No," said the Old Sailor. "But how will the birds get at the water,
my lad? It is out of their reach."
"Ah! you think so, sir. But have you ever been in want of water?"
"Of fresh water, I have, my lad; not of salt. Was for three days on a
raft, with not a drop of fresh water among thirty-seven of us. Two
drank salt water, and went raving mad; one threw himself into the
sea."
"And the others, sir?" inquired Dan, immensely interested.
"The others, my lad, waited and suffered, and prayed for rain. And it
came, my lad, and we were saved, by the mercy of God. It was awful
suffering; our very eyeballs were blazing with thirst. It would have
been a relief to us if we could have cried."
"But the heavens cried for you, sir," said Dan tenderly.
"Ay, ay, my lad," said the Old Sailor; "that's well said. The heavens
cried for us; and we lay on our backs with our mouths open to catch
the blessed drops. The salt water that was death to us dashed up from
below; and the fresh water that was life to us came down from above.
In five minutes we were soaked with the rain; and we sucked at our
clothes. We caught enough rain-water to last us until we were picked
up by a merchantman, homeward bound from the Indies."
"That was good," said Dan, feeling as if he had known the Old Sailor
all his life. "Now, supposing you were wrecked, sir, on a high rock.
Here is the rock," pointing to the perch on which the bullfinches were
standing.
"Here is the rock," repeated the Old Sailor, chiming in readily with
Dan's fancy.
"And here you are, sir, with another sailor," identifying Praiseworthy
Meddler and the other sailor with the two bullfinches.
"And here am I, with another sailor," said the Old Sailor attentively,
nodding familiarly at his new shipmate in the cage, who, making much
too light of the calamity which had befallen them, winked saucily in
return.
"And you are very thirsty."
"And I am very thirsty," said the Old Sailor, smacking his parched
lips.
"And here, out of your reach, is the water," indicating the well, "you
want to drink."
"And here, out of my reach, is the water I want to drink," said the
Old Sailor, growing more parched.
"Now, then," said Dan, "you can't get at the water with your beak--I
mean your mouth--and you can't reach it with your claws--I mean your
hands. Now what do you do?"
"Ah what do I do?" repeated the Old Sailor, not seeing his way out of
the difficulty.
"Why," exclaimed Dan enthusiastically, "you get a rope--or, if you
haven't got one, you make one out of some strong grass, or out of
strips of your clothes; and you get a bucket--or you make one out of a
cocoanut," in his enthusiasm Dan took the cocoanut for granted; and
the Old Sailor accepted its existence on the rock with most implicit
faith--"and you attach the cocoanut to the rope, and you lower it into
the water, and draw it up full. Here you are, doing it."
And, obedient to Dan's signal, the bullfinches lowered their tiny
bucket into the well, and drew it up full, and dipped their beaks into
the water, as if they were shipwrecked bullfinches, and were nearly
dead with raging thirst.
A thoughtful expression stole into the Old Sailor's face.
"They are wise little creatures," he said. "I have seen a might of
strange things and pretty things; but this is as pretty as any thing I
have seen."
"You can learn them any thing almost, sir," said Dan, who was bent
upon making the Old Sailor love the birds.
"To climb ropes like a sailor?"
"In a week they could. If I had a little ship, with two or three sails
and a rope-ladder, I could teach them to climb the ladder and set the
sails."
"I dare say, my lad, I dare say."
"Did you ever see a mermaid, sir?"
This was one of the questions Dan had made up his mind to ask the Old
Sailor directly they grew familiar.
"Yes," answered the Old Sailor. "I wasn't very near her; and I was
laughed at for saying I had seen her. But I saw her, for all that."
"Where was it that you saw her, sir?"
"In the South Pacific, where there are the ugliest images of men and
women, and the most wonderful birds and flowers and trees, in the
world. I have walked for miles through forests of wild flowers and
strange trees, while thousands of parrots were flying about, with
their feathers all blue and gold and scarlet and silver."
"Oh, how beautiful!" exclaimed Dan, twining his fingers together. "And
they're there now, sir?"
"Surely. Your land-lubbers don't know any thing of the world."
"Those men and women, sir--are they very ugly?"
"As ugly as sin can make 'em--brown and copper-colored and nearly
black; cannibals they are."
"That's very dreadful!" said Dan with a shiver. "What else have you
seen, sir?"
"What would you say to gardens in the sea?" asked the Old Sailor
enthusiastically. "What would you say to fields in the sky?"
"No!" said Dan in wonder.
"Yes, my lad. Gardens in the sea, with the flowers growing and
blooming. I only saw land in the sky once; but it was a sight that
can't be forgot. We were thousands of miles away from land; but there
in the sky was the country, with fields and forests and mountains. We
saw it for near an hour; then it melted away. What would you say to
flying fish--showers of 'em. I heard of a talking fish; but I never
saw it. I shouldn't wonder, now, if these pretty little birds could
talk."
"No, sir," said Dan; "they can't talk, but they can sing."
With that he whistled the first stave of "Rule, Britannia;" and the
bullfinches piped the patriotic song so spiritedly, that the Old
Sailor roared out in a hoarse voice, "Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules
the waves!" and then stopped, and wiped the perspiration from his
forehead, and exclaimed, "Lord, Lord!" with rapturous bewilderment.
But when Dan whistled "And have you not heard of a jolly young
waterman?" and the birds answered, "Oh, yes! we have heard of a jolly
young waterman," and proceeded to narrate where that jolly young
waterman plied, and how dexterously that jolly young waterman
feathered his oars, the Old Sailor was fairly dumfoundered, and sat
down in silence, and watched and listened, while Dan put the birds
through the whole of their performances.
Ah, what a happy day was that--never, never to be forgotten! As he lay
in his hammock, with a delicious sense of rest upon him, he saw
pleasure-boats and barges floating down with the tide, with a happy
indolence in keeping with every thing about him. What else? Bright
visions in the clouds; not for himself, but for his friend, his
brother Joshua; bright visions of beautiful lands and beautiful seas.
What did the Old Sailor say? Gardens in the sea, with the flowers
growing and blooming! He saw them in the clouds; and each flower was
bright with beauty, and each petal was rimmed with light. Fields in
the skies! There they were, stretching far, far away; and some one was
walking through forests of wild flowers and strange trees. Who was it?
Joshua! And there were the parrots that the Old Sailor had spoken of;
with their feathers of blue and gold and scarlet and silver. But Dan
happened to turn his eyes from the clouds to the water, and dreamland
faded. Joshua was rowing on the river.
Bravo, Joshua! How strong he looked, with his shirt-sleeves tucked up
to his shoulders; and how well he managed his oars! Not that Dan was
much of a judge; but he knew what grace was, and surely he saw that
before him when he saw Joshua rowing. Joshua looked at Dan, and smiled
and nodded; and Dan clapped his hands. And Joshua, to show how clever
he was, made a great sweep with the oars, and fell backwards in the
boat, in a most ridiculous position, with his heels in the air. But he
was up again like lightning, and recovered his oars, and made so light
of it, that Dan, who had caught his breath for an instant, laughed
merrily at the mishap, and thought it was good fun. His laugh was
echoed by Ellen, who was sitting by his side, and who had also been a
little alarmed at first. The industrious maid was making holiday in
her own peculiar way. She was not accustomed to sit idly down with her
hands in her lap. By some mysterious means she had obtained possession
of two of the Old Sailor's shirts which required mending; and there
she was stitching away at them, as if it were the most natural thing
in the world for her to do when she came out for a holiday. Did she
have a design upon the Old Sailor? It really looked suspiciously like
it, if one might judge from the demure glances she cast upon him every
now and then, and from the admiring manner in which he returned her
artful glances. One thing was certain: she had fairly captivated him;
and there is no telling what might have occurred, if he had been
thirty years younger.
What more beautiful phase of human nature can be seen than that of an
old man with a young heart? Place, side by side, two pictures of old
manhood: one, with crafty face; with cautious eyes that never rove;
with compressed lips that keep guard on every word; with puckered
forehead and eyebrows, from every ugly crevice in which the spirit of
"You can't take me in" peeps out, as if the essence of a fox were in
hiding there;--the other, with open face, which says, "Read me; I am
not afraid;" with eyes that, be they large or small, enjoy what they
see; with full-fleshed wrinkles on forehead and eyebrows; with lips
that smile when others smile.
No younger heart ever beat in the breast of an old man than that which
beat in the breast of Praiseworthy Meddler. He had never mingled with
children; yet here he was, at nearly seventy years of age, a hale and
hearty old man, with a nature as simple as a child's. What was it that
made him so? Was it because he had lived his youth and manhood away
from cities, where the tricky webs of trade teach men to trick as
their brethren do, or where the anxiety how to live, and with many,
alas, how to get to-morrow's bread, stops the generous flow of a
generous nature, and robs life's summer of its brightness? Or did he
inherit it? If so, how deserving of pity are those children who are
born of crafty parents! There are human mysteries which science has
not dared to probe, and there are inherited ills and calamities which
philanthropists, up to the present time, have not tried to get to the
root of.
Anyhow, here was Praiseworthy Meddler sitting upon the deck of his
barge by the side of Ellen, showing her, in the intervals of
stitching, how to splice a broken rope, and initiating her into the
mysteries a short-splice, long-splice, and eye-splice. Dan, looking
on, begged some rope, and proved himself a wonderfully-apt scholar,
which caused the Old Sailor to remark,--
"You ought to be a sailor, my lad;" forgetting for the moment that
Dan's legs were useless.
"I should have to work in a hammock, sir," said Dan cheerfully.
The Old Sailor blushed.
"I forgot," he said in a gentle voice.
"There's the sailor for you, if you like," said Dan, pointing to
Joshua, who, a couple of hundred yards away, was pulling lazily
towards the barge.
"Ay, ay, my lad; Joshua has the right stuff in him. He will be a fine
strong man."
"He is better than strong, sir," said Dan; "he is noble and
tender-hearted. If you knew, sir, how good he has been to me, you
would admire and love him more. If you knew how gentle he has been to
me--how tender, and how self-sacrificing--you would think even better
of him than you do. We have been together all our lives; every day he
has come to me as regularly as the sun, and has been to me what the
sun is to the day. I look back now that he is going away, and I cannot
remember that he has ever given me a cross word or a cross look. And I
have been very troublesome sometimes, and very peevish; but he has
borne with it all. Look, sir," and Dan drew the Old Sailor's attention
to two pieces of rope, one thin and one thick, the strands of which he
had been interweaving, "this thin rope is me; this thick rope is
Joshua. Now we are spliced, and you can't pull us apart. Joshua and me
are friends for ever and ever!"
The Old Sailor listened attentively, and nodded his head occasionally,
to show that he was following Dan's words, and understood them. Ellen,
having mended the Old Sailor's shirts, sat with her hands folded in
her lap, indorsing every word that Dan uttered.
Just then Joshua reached the barge, and having secured the boat,
climbed on to the deck. As he did so, eight bells struck.
"Eight bells," said the Old Sailor. "Dinner."
With that, he lifted Dan out of the hammock, and carried him to where
dinner was laid on a table which extended fore and aft down the centre
of what it would be the wildest extravagance of courtesy to call a
saloon, and where every thing was prepared in expectation of a storm.
Joshua and Ellen followed, and the four of them made a very merry
party. Lobscouse and sea-pie were the only dishes, and they were
brought in by a Lascar with rings in his ears, whom the Old Sailor
called a "lubberly swab," because he was unmistakably drunk; and who
in return, notwithstanding his drunken condition, cast upon the Old
Sailor an evil look, which flashed from his eyes like a dagger-stroke.
This Lascar was the man who had struck eight bells, and who cooked for
the Old Sailor, and did odd work about the barge, in return for which
he got his victuals and a bunk to sleep in. A lazy, indolent rogue,
who would do any thing, never mind what, for rum and tobacco; a
cringing, submissive, treacherous rogue, ripe for the execution of any
villainy on the promise of rum and tobacco; a rogue who would fawn,
and lie, and stab, and humble himself and play Bombastes for rum and
tobacco. They were all he seemed to live for; they were his
Thirty-nine Articles, and he was ready to sell himself for them any
day. Of what quality might be the work proposed to him to do, so as to
earn the reward, was of the very smallest consequence to him. He gave
Ellen such an ugly look of wicked admiration that she was glad when he
was gone.
Dinner over, they returned to the deck, and the Old Sailor told them
stories of the sea-stories so enthralling, that the afternoon glided
by like a dream; and the setting sun was tinged with the glories of
the distant lands whither it was wending. They had tea on deck--a
delicious tea, of shrimps, water-creases, and bread-and-butter. The
task of preparing the tea was performed by Ellen and the Old Sailor;
and during the performance of this task, it may be confidently stated
that the conquest of the Old Sailor was completed, and that he was
from that moment, and ever afterwards, her devoted slave. Then they
went down, and sat two and two on each side of the table, Joshua and
Dan being on one side, and Ellen and the Old Sailor on the other; and
they had more sea-stories, and were altogether in a state of supreme
happiness.
During the latter part of the evening the conversation turned upon
Joshua's approaching voyage.
"Always bear in mind the sailor's watchword, my lad," said the Old
Sailor. "Along the line the signal ran: 'England expects that every
man this day will do his duty.' That's meant not for this day alone,
but for always. What a sailor's got to do is to obey. Many a voyage
has had a bad ending because of a sailor's forgetting his watchword.
Don't you forget it, Josh."
"I won't, sir."
"The 'Merry Andrew,' that you're going to make your first voyage in,
is a fine ship; the skipper is a fine skipper--a man he is, and that's
what a ship wants--a man and not an image." The Old Sailor said this
in a tone of exasperation, inspired, possibly, by some tantalizing
remembrance of a ship commanded by an image instead of a man. "So
stick to your watchword, my lad. It wouldn't be a bad thing now if we
were to drink to it."
The cunning old rascal was only too glad of a chance to get at his
grog.
"Bravo!" exclaimed Dan, clapping his hands.
No sooner said than done. Hot water, lemon, sugar, rum, compounded
with the skill of an artist. A glass for Joshua, a glass for Dan, a
glass for the Old Sailor, and a small glass for Ellen. Not one of them
seemed afraid of it--not even Ellen.
"Now then," said the Old Sailor, smiling as the steam rose to his
nostrils. "Now, then; the sailor's watchword--Duty, and may Joshua
never forget it!"
"Duty, Jo," said Dan, nodding over his glass to Joshua.
"Duty, Dan," said Joshua, nodding to Dan.
Ellen said nothing aloud, but whispered something into her glass. Then
they drank and sipped their grog, and resumed the conversation.
"Have you been to New Holland, sir?" asked Dan. The "Merry Andrew" was
bound for New Holland.
"I was there when I was a youngster," replied the Old Sailor, mixing a
second glass of grog for himself. "It was a wild country then; I am
told it is growing into a wonderful country now. We were six months
going out. We had nearly four hundred convicts aboard, most of them in
irons. A miserable lot of desperate wretches they were! They were not
well treated, and they knew it. We had to keep close watch over them;
if they could have set themselves free by any means--they talked of it
many a time among themselves--they would have captured the ship, and
flung us overboard, or something worse. We landed them at Port
Phillip, where the British Government wanted to form a settlement."
"Why New Holland, sir?" asked Dan, always eager for information.
"Discovered by the Dutch in about 1600," replied the Old Sailor
oratorically. "Victoria was discovered by Capt. Cook; let us drink to
him." They took a sip--all but the Old Sailor, who scorned sips.
"Discovered by Capt. Cook in 1770, after he had discovered New
Zealand."
"Any savages, sir?"
"Swarms. We were out in a boat exploring, and when we were close in
shore, two or three hundred savages came whooping down upon us. We
weren't afraid of them; we pulled in to shore, and they stopped short
about twenty yards from us, jabbering like a lot of black monkeys.
They soon got courage enough to come closer to us, and we gave them
some grog; but the ignorant lubbers spit it out of their mouths at
first. Then they began to steal things from the boat; and when we gave
them to understand that what was ours wasn't theirs, they grew saucy.
A black fellow caught up the master's-mate, and ran away with him."
"What did they want with him, sir?"
"To eat him, of course. We fired over their heads, and they dropped
the master's-mate, who ran back to us, glad enough to get free, for he
didn't relish the idea of being made a meal of. But when the savages
found that the guns didn't hurt them, they came whooping up to us
again, flourishing their spears. Their faces were painted, and they
had swans' feathers sticking out of their heads. Some of them had skin
cloaks on, painted all over with figures of naked men, and some of
them had bones stuck through their nostrils. On they came, yelling and
leaping like so many devils, thinking what a fine roast the fattest of
us would make. Then we fired and killed one of them. Directly they saw
him fall, they scampered off like madmen."
When the conversation flagged, they had music and singing. Joshua
played, and Dan sang a song, and the Old Sailor sang a good many. The
best of the Old Sailor's songs was, that they were all about the sea,
and that every one of them had a chorus in which the company could
join. Of course he sang "Heave the Lead," and "Yeo, heave, ho! To the
windlass let us go, with yo, heave ho!" and "Saturday Night at Sea;"
and when "Saturday night did come, my boys, to drink to Poll and
Bess," he flourished his glass, and drank to those young ladies with a
will. The number of lovely ladies with whom the Old Sailor made them
acquainted was something astonishing. Poor Jack had his Poll, whom he
addressed in a not very dignified manner, when he said to her,--
"What argufies sniv'ling and piping your eye?
Why what a--(_hem!_) fool you must be!"
Out of respect for Ellen, the Old Sailor coughed over a good many
words in the songs he sang; for it must be confessed that there was
more swearing in them than was absolutely necessary. Poor Jack,
however, who called his Poll a something fool, made up for it in the
end by declaring that "his heart was his Poll's" (a very pretty though
somewhat trite sentiment), and "his rhino's his friend's" (a very
unwise and foolish sentiment, as the world goes). Then there was a
Polly whom the lads called so pretty, and who entreated her
sweetheart, before he sailed in the good ship the "Kitty" to be
constant to her; and who, when he returned without any rhino, turned
up her nose at him, as young women do now and then. Then there were
Poll in "My Poll and my partner Joe" (it was wonderful how faithless
the Polls were), and Poll in "Every inch a Sailor," who, when poor
Haulyard came home in tatters, swore (very unfeminine of her) that she
had never seen his face. But honest Ned Haulyard was a philosophical
sailor, for he something'd her for a faithless she, and singing went
again to sea. The Nancies were a better class of female:--
"I love my duty, love my friend,
Love truth and merit to defend,
To moan their loss who hazard ran;
I love to take an honest part.
Love beauty with a spotless heart,
By manners love to show the man;
To sail through life by honor's breeze--
'Twas all along of loving these
First made me dote on lovely Nan."
And so on, and so on, with gentle Anna and buxom Nan; and poor Fanny,
who drowned herself in the waves near to the place where hung the
trembling pines; and poor Peggy, who loved a soldier lad (a marine,
without doubt); and bonny Kate, who lived happily afterwards with Tom
Clueline. Ellen joined in the choruses with her sweet voice; but,
strange to say, she had not been asked to sing until the Old Sailor,
struck perhaps by a sudden remorse at monopolizing the harmony, called
upon her for a song. Ellen, nothing loth, asked what song; and Joshua
said,--
"Sing the song you learned of mother, Ellen."
"'Bread-and-Cheese and Kisses?'" inquired Ellen.
"Yes, 'Bread-and-Cheese and Kisses.' 'Tisn't quite a girl's song sir"
(to the Old Sailor); "but it is a good song, and Ellen sings it
nicely."
"Hooray, then, for 'Bread-and-Cheese and Kisses!'" cried the Old
Sailor, casting a glance of intense admiration at Ellen, who, without
more ado, sang as follows:--
BREAD-AND-CHEESE AND KISSES.
One day, when I came home fatigued,
And felt inclined to grumble,
Because my life was one of toil,
Because my lot was humble,
I said to Kate, my darling wife,
In whom my whole life's bliss is,
"What have you got for dinner, Kate?"
"Why, bread-and-cheese and kisses!"
Though worn and tired, my heart leaped up
As those plain words she uttered.
Why should I envy those whose bread
Than mine's more thickly buttered?
I said, "We'll have dessert at once."
"What's that?" she asked. "Why, this is."
I kissed her. Ah, what sweeter meal
Than bread-and-cheese and kisses!
I gazed at her with pure delight;
She nodded and smiled gayly;
I said, "My love, on such a meal
I'd dine with pleasure, daily.
When I but think of you, dear girl,
I pity those fine misses
Who turn their noses up and pout
At bread-and-cheese and kisses.
"And when I look on your dear form,
And on your face so homely;
And when I look in your dear eyes,
And on your dress so comely;
And when I hold you in my arms,
I laugh at Fortune's misses.
I'm blessed in you, content with you,
And bread-and-cheese and kisses."
Thus ended the happy day.