PREPARING TO LEAVE--A LETTER HOME--WE LENGTHEN AND ENLARGE THE
"ANGLO-FRANC"--RE-CHRISTEN HER, "HAPPY RETURN"--LOVE AT FIRST
SIGHT--VICTUALLING AND STOWING CARGO--PRETTY JEANETTE--THE LONG
VOYAGE--INCIDENTS EN ROUTE--VEGETARIANS, AND THEIR DIET--YARMOUTH
REACHED--FRESHWATER NAVIGATION--MY NATIVE HEATH.
After our discovery my sole thought seemed to be of home. In fact, I was
now as ready to leave the island, as I was, eighteen months before to
land upon it, and the last fortnight, although it could not have been
pleasanter, seemed as if it would never end.
I appeared to go about my work in a mechanical way, and only three
things seemed to have much joy for me--my home, parents, and Priscilla.
How should I get home was the next question? I knew my father's vessels
were all out to the herring harvest, which begins in August, and ends
just before Christmas, so that it was very unlikely he would send for
me. Beside this, I wanted to give them a surprise by popping in upon
them when they least expected me. To this proceeding, however, there was
one great drawback, for, like a true Crusoe, I lacked money, having but
a few shillings to call my own. True, I had the Spanish doubloons; but
then, again, they were not mine, and if they were they were foreign
coins and out of date also, so that no one would have accepted them as
current coin.
"What is to be done?" I asked my companion.
"Done! Why there are several ways that I can think of," said Alec, after
a pause; "but first and foremost, why not go home in the 'Anglo-Franc?'"
"Monday, you're joking."
"Not at all. We have been out on several rough nights in her, and
surely, Norfolk is not such a great way off, that we need fear such a
voyage in early September. By your leave I will go with you and act as
skipper and pilot, and then, having taken you safely home, will resume
my post as King of Jethou. What do you say?"
"But the 'Anglo-Franc' is too small, my good sir."
"Perhaps so; but in a week we can lengthen her, and by adding a couple
of strakes to her upper works she will carry a ton more than she does
now, if it should be necessary."
"Agreed, Alec. Your hand! Good thought!"
The more I turned it over in my mind the better I liked the project. Why
not lengthen and strengthen her at once?
Without delay we would set about it; but to make sure that my father
would not send a vessel for me, I would write him a line. As with my
former letter, brevity marked my epistle.
"_Jethou_,
"_August 21st, 18--._
"DEAR FATHER,
"All's well. I hope to arrive home about September 10th, and trust
to find you all well.
"Your affectionate Son,
"HARRY NILFORD."
Then, launching the boat, I instructed Alec to take the letter to Herm,
so that the first boat crossing would take it to the St. Peter Port post
office.
I stood and watched him as he neared the little pier at the landing
place of Herm, and before he had arrived within two hundred yards of the
place, the whole population--men, women, and children--turned out to see
him. I am not sure but that the _entire_ population was waiting to
receive him, for I could only count twelve persons. I think they could
not muster more than two or three more, all told, so that his reception
was a grand one.
Having instructions from me not to land, he handed the letter up in a
cleft stick, and pushing off a boat's length, had a chat with the
natives.
"They all spoke at once," said he, "and would not give me time enough to
answer their questions, so they got very little information from me.
There was one very nice girl there though, that I should like to know,
and when I get back from England, I think I shall try and see her
parents, for I shall be very lonely all by myself, when you are gone."
Poor fellow! He had fallen in love at first sight with a vengeance. But
it is just like we poor men; we are no sooner in possession of enough
means to live comfortably upon, than we are sure to want to share it
with someone else, providing the someone else is a pretty and loveable
woman. Right away from the Creation it has been the same. Adam and Eve
set us young fellows an example that it seems will never die out--at
least I hope not till we have all found Eves to our liking.
The next ten days we worked very hard, for we lengthened the
"Anglo-Franc" nearly five feet amidships, and built her up nearly a foot
above her old gunwale, so that by raising the deck or roof of the cuddy
forward about fourteen inches, and lengthening it a couple of feet, we
had quite a cosy little cabin.
It was wonderful what a remarkable difference these alterations made in
her appearance. True, she was only some six inches broader in the beam,
but now that she was lengthened amidships she was over twenty feet long,
and could stand larger and taller masts. These we soon gave her, so that
she now appeared as a half-decked lugger, and, considering our materials
and tools, quite a smart little craft.
My occupation of Jethou, according to the agreement, ceased on September
2nd, and as it was now the last day of August, we set about putting
everything in order previous to leaving on the 3rd, should the weather
prove fine.
It would never do to leave the island without someone in charge; and as
we neither of us knew anyone who would act while Alec was away, we were
again in a quandary. At last I hit on a bright idea, one that made my
comrade's eyes sparkle with delight.
"Did you not say that the pretty damsel of Herm had a father?" I asked.
[Illustration: LENGTHENING THE "ANGLO-FRANC."]
"Yes," said Alec, "and a mother too. Would you like them to come over
and take charge? Yes? Oh! la! la!!"
Then the simple fellow gambolled about like a young schoolboy, and
exclaimed, "Never mind the boat, let me try and swim over."
"Swim, Alec! Don't be a ninny. Do you want to throw your life away in
such madness? Go down to the boat directly, and do not act like an ass."
Away he sailed, and soon landed at the little pier, and was quickly
surrounded by the inhabitants, who took him towards the cottages out of
my sight.
He was gone so long that I became impatient for his return. It almost
seemed as if he had forsaken me; but at length I descried him putting
off again, and soon he landed, wreathed in smiles, happiness beaming
from his eyes. He had settled everything. Father, mother, and daughter
were to come over at sunrise on the 3rd, so as to help us off and take
final instructions.
The 1st and 2nd of September were occupied in taking in ballast, water,
provisions, etc.; in overhauling all the ropes, sails, and gear, and in
making a couple of beds of sacking stuffed with the softest hay we could
get. Then we had to bake and fish, so as to replenish our stock of food.
Fruit had to be gathered, two small kegs filled with water, and finally
the treasure and all my little curiosities to be got aboard.
All this took us till long after dark on the 2nd, so that when Graviot,
his wife, and daughter landed about five a.m. on the 3rd, we were both
fast asleep, so much so indeed that they had difficulty in finding our
whereabouts and awakening us. At last, by rattling at the windows we
were aroused, and turned out to bid the old couple and their pretty
daughter, Marie, welcome to Jethou.
They were very quickly busy, Marie especially, for with Alec's help she
soon had the breakfast spread and all ready, and anyone with half an eye
could see how matters stood between them. All appeared quite settled.
After breakfast we all walked round the island together, so that I might
point out what I required done during the absence of Alec. I introduced
them to "Flap," the gull, who seemed to be rather shy of them, as they
were the first human beings who had been permitted to interview him
since I captured him fifteen months before, except Alec. The goat,
"Unicorna," and her companion, or rather son, "Butt," for she had had a
son a couple of months after her landing, were next placed under Marie's
protection, while my dear old friend, "Eddy," was handed over to Graviot
père, with strict injunctions to use him well and not to overload the
poor fellow. He seemed to know I was going to leave him, for he thrust
his nose into my hand, and made a great fuss of me as I caressed him.
At eleven a.m., all being in readiness, I strode down the well-known
pathway towards our little pier for the last time, and it was not
without deep regret and dim eyes that I bade farewell to the home in
which the past eighteen months of my life had been passed in perfect
peace, contentment, and happiness. I could not help a sigh as I thought
that this was the last tide I should see rise around Jethou. The last
time I should see
"The busy waters, multitudinous,
Lip the dry beach, and rippling every pool,
Embathe the limpets in their swirling cool,
And plash upon the rocks, returning thus
To their old haunts with pleasure tremulous."
I loved every rock and tree, and felt loath to part from them, for they
were all old friends to me.
I almost forgot to mention that after altering and painting our noble
craft, we re-christened her the "Happy Return," trusting that a good
name might give us a good voyage, and I am glad to say such proved to be
the case.
We calculated the distance from Jethou to Great Yarmouth to be about
three hundred and fifty miles, but before our voyage was finished we
found we had greatly under-estimated the actual course; but apart from
the wish of getting to the journey's end, we had a most enjoyable time
of it. We calculated the trip would take us about five days, if the
weather were at all favourable, and in this we were not far out. Perhaps
a few details of the trip may be of interest to my readers, for a voyage
across the channel is not often undertaken in such a small vessel.
As I have stated, we left Jethou about noon on the 3rd, and rounded the
southern end of hilly Herm, then we laid our course so as to pass
between Alderney and Cape La Hogue, but for fear of rocks gave the cape
a rather wide berth, so that about three o'clock we had Alderney a
couple of miles off on our weather beam. I was laughing at Alec about
his yarn of the "Dewdrop," when an idea occurred to me.
"What do you say to a glass of ale at the tavern you put up at in Braye
for those eleven days, eh, Alec?"
"Just the thing. I have not tasted a glass for months."
"Nor I," I replied. "Swing her round," and putting the helm over, we
made for Braye Harbour to get a glass of beer. The wind being south-west
was somewhat against us, but in an hour we were lying safely in the
little harbour, not far from the shore end of the great breakwater,
which is nearly a mile in length. We had two glasses of ale each and no
more, and having verified Alec's yarn of the "Dewdrop," which was
substantially correct, once more embarked, and with a fair wind cut
through the water at a smart race. Rounding Cape La Hogue we were
fortunate to get the tide in our favour, and by sunrise on the 4th could
just make out the entrance to Havre, from which we were some seven or
eight miles distant, and passing Fecamp, were abreast of Dieppe at three
p.m.
So far we had done remarkably well, and I proposed to Alec, that as I
had a little money, we should go ashore and have a civilized dinner and
a look round the town; but he took a different view of the matter, and
advocated keeping on as long as the wind favoured us, and to this I
readily assented, as the wind was now somewhat unsteady.
"Begum" seemed quite to enjoy the fun as well as ourselves, and made
himself quite at home, though I have no doubt he would have thoroughly
enjoyed a run ashore, and, as luck would have it, that night he had it.
Some twenty miles further along the coast, that is, beyond Dieppe, we
met with our first mishap. The sea hereabout was decidedly choppy, and
the wind very puffy, and during one of these puffs we sprung the
foremast, which could not have been very strong, as the wind was not at
all high. Consulting a chart of the French coast, which we had obtained
at Braye, we decided, as it seemed to be setting in for a dirty night,
to round in to the mouth of the river Somme and stay the night at St.
Valery, so that we could get a new mast stepped early next morning,
before proceeding across Channel.
It was lucky we did so, for the wind backed to the westward, raising a
lumpy sea, and down came the rain till past midnight, after which the
wind lulled and went to south-west again. About two a.m. out came the
moon, and quickly chased away the remaining black clouds, after which it
was fine again. It did not matter what the weather during the night was,
as we were safe in Port St. Valery, from seven p.m. of the 4th, till
eleven a.m. on the 5th.
Early in the morning we found a carpenter, who soon rigged us up a new
mast, and after a stroll through the busy town to replenish our little
stock of eatables, we again pursued our voyage.
From St. Valery to Boulogne is a distance of about forty-five miles, and
ere we reached it darkness was closing in, so we took in a reef, as was
our wont at night, and lowered the mizzen altogether. This gave us an
opportunity of moving along slowly, while one of us slept.
We took it in turns throughout the night to take charge of the "Happy
Return," and thus by changing watch every two hours we got a fair amount
of sleep. Two hours at a stretch is all very well, but it is not
comfortable to be awakened out of a sound sleep in a warm, snug cabin,
to take one's turn at the helm; and I soon discovered that three turns
of two hours each is not nearly equivalent to a straightaway snooze of
six hours, by any means. One has just time to get comfortably off, and
then, "Ahoy, there! Larboard watch, turn out!" And then out you come to
set for two mortal hours in the wet stern sheets, gaping enough to
dislocate your jaw, and longing for the pleasure of dragging your mate
out at the expiration of the watch, while you turn into his warm bed
with a chuckling "Good-night, mate."
Gaping seems to be very infectious, for on Jethou I have several times
noticed that Alec and I, as bed time approached, would sit and gape at
each other in a most alarming manner, yet not apparently taking heed of
each other's performances, but gradually catching the infection
unawares.
On this particular night I gaped so as to be in danger of hitching my
upper teeth over the foremast head, in which case I must have swallowed
the whole mast, or have signalled to Alec for assistance.
Making the run across from Cape Griznez to Dover is no place for gaping,
let alone sleeping; for vessels are so continually passing to and fro
that one requires all their wits about them to keep clear of the
steamers. These monsters, with their red and green eyes, came looming up
so noiselessly in the still night, without the least warning (save these
same eyes) of approaching danger, that I almost shuddered as they passed
just ahead or astern, to think what might happen if either one of us
slept for only a few minutes on his post. Just a crash, a scream, and
all would be over, and the great steamer would most likely pass along on
her voyage, and no one be the wiser that a couple of lives had been
sacrificed to Morpheus.
When morning dawned the dear old chalk cliffs of Dover were looking down
upon our little cockle-shell, as she rose upon each glittering wave, and
looking up at those gigantic white cliffs, we seemed really to be at
home. Here was England at last, and I could not resist the temptation of
running into the harbour to once more put foot on my native land. We got
in about seven, and had a stroll about the hilly old place, then went to
a dining-room and had such a breakfast as my slim purse would afford. We
then gave "Begum" (who looked after the vessel while we were away) a run
ashore for half an hour, while we trimmed up and made all snug.
At about half-past nine on the 6th we left the harbour in brilliant
sunshine, Ramsgate and Margate looking gay with their flags, yachts,
bathing machines, white houses, and throngs of holiday makers. The water
round the English coast looks hardly clean enough to bathe in after the
limpid crystal we had been used to at Jethou. It struck us as looking
peculiarly chalky and turbid, but a few days reconciled us to what we
shall in future have to put up with.
We kept close in to the North Foreland, to avoid the dreaded Goodwin
Sands, as we did not wish to leave the bones of the "Happy Return," with
her valuable cargo, upon them.
From the Foreland we took a straight course across the Thames estuary,
for what we thought was Walton Naze, but as we had no compass, and were
quite out of sight of land, we made a slight error, and about dusk found
ourselves close in with the shore. Not knowing where we were, as a fog
from the land had come bowling along over the calm sea, we entered a
pretty little bay, and dropped anchor for the night.
While we were preparing supper and wondering where we had got to, as
there was not a house, church, or other landmark in sight, we felt a
bump against our quarter, and immediately after a head appeared above
our side, with a "Good evening, mates; I thought as how you might want
summat from the town, so I jest put off to ye, seeing ye were strangers
like."
"Very good of you indeed, my man. Make fast and come aboard."
Our visitor did not want much inviting, for he rolled in over the side,
and squatted down on a locker, as if he had known us all his life. He
was a little round-bodied, big-fisted, ruddy man, of about sixty; a
thorough water-dog, who, when his tongue was loosened spun yarns and
sang us songs till near midnight. He was about the merriest little man I
ever met. He had served twenty years in the navy, and was an old wooden
frigate man, full to the brim with anecdotes. I thought at the time
that it would be worth while for some enterprising editor to send out an
expedition to capture him and make him spin yarns to fill up an
otherwise uninteresting column of some weekly paper. If I had the space
at my command I would recapitulate some of his stories here, but I have
not. If I had, my readers would have to take such frequent pinches of
salt that they would have a most tantalizing drought upon them, one
which would be most difficult to quench.
We obtained information as to our whereabouts, and found that we were
anchored in a little bay in the estuary of the Colne, about a mile from
the town of Brightlingsea.
On the 7th the sun rose in great splendour, reminding one of the verse:
"The night is past, and morning, like a queen
Deck'd in her glittering jewels, stately treads,
With her own beauty flushing fair the scene,
The while o'er all her robe of light she spreads."
At six a.m. we were again under weigh (after a good breakfast), and
close in with the land, which we hugged right away to Yarmouth, as it
was our nearest course.
Speaking of breakfast reminds me of eating, and eating of diet, and diet
of health; and this again of my diet on Jethou. Two years ago I used to
laugh at vegetarians and call them "pap-eaters," "milk-and-water men,"
and other pretty names; but while I was in Jethou I had cause to think
there was not only _something_ in their theory but _much_.
When the weather was too rough for me to fish, I have often lived for a
week or ten days on vegetarian diet, for although I had tinned meat I
got tired of it in warm weather, and only ate it occasionally when the
days were cold. The pig I killed was more than three-parts thrown away,
as I did not properly salt it; so my pork store did not last long.
I used frequently to cut several slices of bread and stroll about the
garden and eat my breakfast direct from the bushes, while sometimes I
would cook a fish and eat, finishing up with three or four apples or
tomatoes with biscuits. Dinner would perhaps consist of a saucepan of
potatoes with a fish of some kind, then a rice pudding, or something
equally simple, and some cooked fruit eaten with it. I used invariably
to stroll through the garden daily and pluck a little of whatever fruit
was ripe. I had no meal which corresponded to a tea, but after work took
supper, which usually consisted of a scrap of meat or fish, bread and
jam, biscuits and fruit. Oatmeal porridge, with fruit and fish, formed
my breakfast throughout the winter. It must be remembered that I had a
splendid assortment of fruit, and as I ate it freshly gathered I had the
full benefit of its medicinal worth, for I had not a day's real sickness
while on the island. Excepting the ten days I was laid by with my fall I
did not have a single day's real illness. I had raspberries,
currants--black, red, and white--tomatoes, apples, pears, walnuts,
mulberries, gooseberries, etc., beside wild blackberries; also several
vegetables, such as onions, carrots, lettuces, cauliflowers, peas,
beans, potatoes, beet, and others.
When I landed on the island I weighed twelve stone six pounds. When I
was weighed at Dover, on my voyage home, I drew the beam at thirteen
stone eight pounds; so I was not starved. I was as tough as
whit-leather, and as strong as a horse, as we say in Norfolk. With this
experience, therefore, I must certainly affirm that a diet of
farinaceous food, fruit, vegetables, and fish, will not only give a man
good health, but a clear brain, a strong body to perform heavy work, and
staying power whenever anything unusual has to be endured or undertaken.
More than this, no man can wish for; and even if he is maintained from
his youth up on mutton cutlets, or choice rump steaks, he cannot be
_more_ than healthy, strong, and happy.
Englishmen having for centuries been a meat-eating nation, are naturally
reluctant to give up a habit that is almost part and parcel of their
nature; but probably if less meat were eaten and more fruit consumed,
especially in the warm weather, doctors would be less numerous, and the
hospitals be crying out less frequently for increased funds to provide a
greater number of beds.
But where are we? Oh, yes, of course, they were Dovercourt lighthouses
we have just passed, which seemed to me like two more mile-stones on my
voyage home.
The "Happy Return" behaved handsomely, and our cabin was quite dry all
the voyage, thanks, perhaps to an extra washboard strake we ran round
the bows before starting.
We hoped on the 7th, by evening, to reach Yarmouth, but were doomed to
disappointment, as upon night closing in, we were only off Kessingland,
a mile or two south of Lowestoft. As we did not want to enter the Bure
before daylight, I decided to run into Lowestoft Harbour for the night,
which we did, and had a good night's rest. If I had not been so eager to
get home I should have passed under the bridge into Lake Lothing, and so
through Oulton Broad into the Waveney on my way, but now I was as eager
as a schoolboy, and could not bear the loss of even an hour.
On the 8th we slipped out of harbour at dawn, which was about five
o'clock, and by seven a.m. crossed Yarmouth Bar, at which my heart
thumped so much that I looked round to see if Alec noticed it; probably
_if_ he heard it he took it for the bump of the paddles on the water, as
a tug passed us towing a couple of fishing boats into the offing.
At breakfast time, eight o'clock, we moored in the mouth of the Bure,
just alongside the quay by the ancient North Gate, which has looked down
upon the muddy old river for the past five centuries, its head held high
in the air, as if wishing to avoid the assortment of smells which
accompany the floating garbage sailing slowly towards the sea.
How impatient I was for the tide to run up and bear me home to Barton,
about twenty miles from our present moorings, and at last it did turn.
To give it time to gain strength we waited a full hour, then, spreading
our joyous sails, away we sped. I might say we _tried_ to rival the
express rate, but our actual progress was very parliamentary. We drew
only three feet of water, but with a slack tide under us we touched
ground several times between North Gate and the One-mile-house, so had
to be very careful. From thence onward we had deep water and progressed
faster.
It was nearly two o'clock as we lowered sail to pass Acle Bridge, and
only about half our journey completed. Stepping the masts, hoisting
sail, and having a glass of good Norfolk ale at the little inn alongside
the bridge occupied half an hour, but now the river was deeper and the
wind fresher, we went bowling along capitally, till taking the turn
before reaching St. Benet's Abbey, where we lost the favour of the wind.
The flat miles of marsh land looked strange to me after hilly, toilsome
Jethou. But now I was nearing home, and knew every tree and fence, every
break in the river wall, and every house we passed, and loved them all;
greeting them as familiar friends as we glided silently by them.
St. Benet's Abbey passed we turn into the river Ant, and again travel
along with a fair wind till bothering old Ludham Bridge bars our
progress; so we have again to "down masts" to pass under the single
gothic arch, which has been the _ultima Thule_ to many a large wherry.
Up sail once more, and on we glide up the tortuous narrow stream, till
passing quiet, quaint, little Irstead Church, with its two or three
attendant cottages, we at last enter Barton Broad.[7] Now my excitement
gives way to another feeling, that of suspense and fear as to how I
shall find the old folks at home. Are they well? Who can tell what may
have taken place during the past six months since my father wrote me,
"_All's well._" I feel a sudden chill as I think of _her_ from whom I
have been absent for over eighteen months, and reproach myself for not
having communicated to her in some way or other. Is _she_ well, and is
she still _mine_? Then my dear old mother, what of her? With these
thoughts crowding through my brain I feel as if I could leap out of the
boat and swim the remaining half mile, so slowly does she go through the
shallow water.
S-s-s-ssh, bump! and we come to a sudden stop, for my reverie has caused
me to neglect my helm, and there we are, fast on a submerged muddy reed
bed.
All this inland navigation is new to Alec, and he has been delighted to
see how I have handled the craft so far, but I think this _contretemps_
rather shakes his faith in my knowledge, till I explain to him the cause
of my neglect.
A few hearty pushes astern and we are off again, and as the sun begins
to cast its long red rays across the tranquil Broad, with its reedy
margin and water-lily nooks, the "Happy Return" glides alongside our
little lawn. Joy! I am home again! The wanderer has returned, and the
erstwhile Crusoe has once more, like Rob Roy Macgregor, "his foot upon
his native heath."
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
FOOTNOTE:
7: See Appendix, page 277, "Norfolk Broads and Rivers."
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]