I don't know why, excepting that the words had a kindly ring about them,
in spite of the almost brusque quaintness of the address, that touched
me keenly in the depressed state of mind in which I was; but, instead of
answering the speaker's pertinent question as to the reason of my grief,
I now bent down my head again on my arm, sobbing away as if my heart
would break.
But this only made the good Samaritan prosecute his inquiry further.
"Come, come, stow that, youngster," said he, taking a seat beside me on
the bench, where I was curled up in one corner, placing one of his hands
gently on my shoulder in a caressing way. "Look up, and tell me what
ails you, my lad, and if Sam Pengelly can help you, why, there's his
fist on it!"
"You--you--are very k-kind," I stammered out between my long-drawn sobs;
"but--but--no--nobody can--help me, sir."
"Oh, nonsense, tell that to the marines, for a sailor won't believe
you," he replied, briskly. "Why, laddie, anybody can help anybody, the
same as the mouse nibbled the lion out of the hunter's net; and, as for
Mr Nobody, I don't know the man! Look here, I can't bear to see a ship
in distress, or a comrade in the doldrums; so I tell you what, young
cockbird, raise your crest and don't look so peaky, for I'm going to
help you if it's in my power, as most likely it is--that is, saving as
how it ain't a loss by death, which takes us all, and which the good
Lord above can only soothe, bringing comfort to you; and even then, why,
a friendly word, and a grip o' some un's hand, sometimes softens down
the roughest plank we've got to tread.
"I tell you, my hearty," he resumed again, after a brief pause, during
which my sobs ceased, "I ain't a going to let you adrift, now I've borne
down alongside and boarded you, my hearty--that's not Sam Pengelly's
way; so you'd better make a clean breast of your troubles and we'll see
what can be done for 'em. To begin with, for there's no use argufying
on an empty stomach, are you hungry, eh?"
"No," I said with a smile, his cheery address and quaint language
banishing my melancholy feelings in a moment, just as a ray of sunshine
or two, penetrating the surface mist, that hangs over the sea and land
of a summer morning before the orb of day, causes it to melt away and
disappear as if by magic, waking up the scene to life; "I had breakfast
in the town about an hour ago."
"Are you hard up?" was his next query.
"No," I answered again, this time bursting into a laugh at the puzzled
expression on his face; "I've got a shilling and a sixpence--there!" and
I drew the coins from my pocket, showing them to him.
"Well, I'm jiggered!" murmured the old fellow to himself, taking off the
straight-peaked blue cloth cap he wore, and scratching his head
reflectively--as if in a quandary, and cogitating how best to get out of
it. "Neither hard up or hungry! I call this a stiff reckoning to work
out. I'd better try the young shaver on another tack. Got any
friends?" he added, in a louder key--addressing himself, now, personally
to me, not supposing that I had heard his previous soliloquy, for he had
merely uttered his thoughts aloud.
This question touched me on the sore point, and I looked grave at once.
"No," I replied, "I've got none left now, since Tom's gone."
"And who's Tom?" he asked, confidentially, to draw me out.
Thereupon, I told him of my being an orphan, brought up by relatives who
didn't care about me, and all about my being sent to school. I also
detailed, with much gusto, the way in which Tom and I had made our exit
from Dr Hellyer's academy, and our subsequent adventures in the coal
brig, down to the moment when I saw the last of my chum as he steamed
out of the Plymouth railway station in the Exeter train, leaving me
desolate behind.
My new friend did not appear so very much amused by the account of our
blowing up the Doctor as I thought he would be. Indeed, he looked quite
serious about it, as if it were, no joking matter, as really it was not,
but a very bad and mischievous piece of business. What seemed to
interest him much more, was, what I told him of my longing for a sea-
life, and the determination I had formed of being a sailor--which even
the harsh treatment of the _Saucy Sall's_ skipper had in no degree
banished from my mind.
"What a pity you weren't sent in the service," he said, meditatively, "I
fancy you'd ha' made a good reefer from the cut of your jib. You're
just the very spit of one I served under when I was a man-o'-war's-man
afore I got pensioned off, now ten year ago!"
"My father was an officer in the Navy," I replied rather proudly. "He
lost his life, gallantly, in the service of his country."
"You don't say that now?" exclaimed my questioner, with much warmth,
looking me earnestly in the face; "and what may your name be, if I may
be so bold? you haven't told it me yet."
"Martin Leigh," I answered, promptly, a faint hope rising in my breast.
"Leigh?--no, never, it can't be!" said the old fellow, now greatly
excited. "I once knew an officer of that very name--Gerald Leigh--and
he was killed in action up the Niger River on the West Coast, while
attacking a slave barracoon, ten years ago come next March--"
"That was my father," I here interposed, interrupting his reminiscences.
"Your father? You don't mean that!"
"I do," I said, eagerly, "I was four years old when Uncle George
received the news of his death."
"My stunsails!" ejaculated the old fellow, dashing his cap to the ground
in a fever of excitement; and, seizing both my hands in his, he shook
them up and down so forcibly that he almost lifted me off the seat.
"Think of that now; but, I could ha' known it from the sort o' feeling
that drew me to you when I saw you curled up here, all lonesome, like a
cock sparrow on a round of beef! And so, Lieutenant Leigh was your
father--the bravest, kindest officer I ever sailed under! Why,
youngster, do you know who I am?"
He said this quite abruptly, and he looked as if he thought I would
recognise him.
"No," I said, smiling, "but you're a very kind-hearted man. I'm sure,
to take such an interest in a friendless boy like me."
"Friendless boy, be jiggered!" he replied--"You're not friendless from
now, you can be sarten! Why, I was your father's own coxswain in the
_Swallow_, off the coast, and it was in my arms he died when he received
that murdering nigger's shot in his chest, right 'twixt wind and water.
Yes! there's a wonderful way in the workings o' Providence--to think
that you should come across me now when you needs a friend, one whom
your father often befriended in old times, more like a brother than an
officer! I thank the great Captain above,"--and the old fellow looked
up reverently here to the blue heaven over us as he uttered these last
words--"that I'm allowed this marciful chance o' paying back, in a poor
sort o' way, all my old commander's kindness to me in the years agone!
Yes, young gentleman, my name's Sam Pengelly, and I was your father's
coxswain. If he had ha' lived he'd have talked to you, sure enough,
about me."
"I'm very glad to hear this," said I; and so I was, for my hopeful
surmise had proved true.
"Well, laddie--you'll excuse my speaking to you familiar like, won't
you?"
"Call me what you please," I answered, "I'm only too proud to hear your
kind voice, and see your friendly face. I have had all nonsense about
dignity and position knocked out of me long since!"
"Well, perhaps, that's all for the best--though mind, Master Leigh,
being your father's son, you mustn't ever forget you've been born a true
gen'leman, and don't you ever do an action that you'll have cause to be
ashamed on! That's the only proper sort o' dignity a gen'leman's son
need ever be partic'ler about, to make people recognise him for what he
is; and, with this feeling and eddication, you'll take your proper place
in the world, never fear! Now, what do you think about doing, my lad?
for the day is getting on, and it's time to see after something."
"I'm sure I don't know," I replied. "I should like to go to sea, as
I've told you. Not in a coasting vessel, like the coal brig, but really
to pea, so as to be able to sail over the ocean to China or Australia;
and, bye-and-bye, after awhile, as soon as I am old enough and have
sufficient experience, I hope to command a ship of my own."
He had shown such sympathy towards me, that I couldn't help telling him
all the wild dreams about my future which had been filling my mind for
the last two years, although I had not confided them even to Tom, for I
thought he would make fun of my nautical ambition.
Instead of laughing at me, however, my new friend looked highly
delighted.
"I'm blessed if you aren't a reg'ler chip of the old block," he said
admiringly, gazing into my face with a broad smile on his weather-beaten
countenance, that made it for the moment in my eyes positively handsome.
"There spoke my old lieutenant, the same as I can fancy I hear him now,
the morning we rowed up the Niger to assault the nigger stockade where
he met his death. `Pengelly,' sez he, in the same identical way as you
first said them words o' yourn, `I mean to take that prah,' and, take it
he did, though the poor fellow lost his life leading us on to the
assault! I can see, very plain, you've got it all in you, the same as
he; and, having been a seafaring man all my life, first in the sarvice,
and then on my own hook in a small way in the coasting line, in course I
honours your sentiments in wishing to be a sailor--though it's a hard
life at the best. Howsomedevers, `what's bred in the bone,' as the
proverb says, `must come out in the flesh,' and if you will go to sea,
why, you must, and I'll try to help you on to what you wish, as far as
Sam Pengelly can; I can't say more nor that, can I?"
"No, certainly not, and I'm much obliged to you," I answered; for he
made a pause at this point, as if waiting for my reply.
"Well, then, that's all settled and entered in the log-book fair and
square; but, as all this can't be managed in a minute, and there'll be a
lot of arrangements to make, s'pose as how you come home along o' me
first? I'm an orphan, too, the same as yourself, with nobody left to
care for or to mind me, save my old sister Jane, who keeps house for me;
and she and I'll make you as welcome as the flowers in May!"
I demurred for a moment at accepting this kind proposal, for I was
naturally of a very independent nature; and, besides, the lessons I had
received in my uncle's household made me shrink from incurring the
obligation of any one's hospitality, especially that of one with whom I
had only such brief acquaintanceship, albeit he was "an orphan"--a
rather oldish one, I thought--"like myself."
But my new friend would not be denied.
"Come on, now," he repeated, getting up from the seat, and holding out a
big, strong hand to me, with such a beaming, good-natured expression on
his face and so much genuine cordiality in his voice, that it was
impossible for me to persist in refusing his invitation; the more
particularly as, seeing me hesitate, he added the remark--"leastways,
that is, unless you're too high a gen'leman to consort with an humble
sailor as was your own father's coxswain!"
This settled the point, making me jump up in a jiffey; when, without
further delay, he and I went off from the Hoe, hand in hand, in the
direction of Stoke, where he told me he lived.
It was now nearly the middle of December, six weeks having passed by
since the memorable Sunday on which I and Tom had made a Guy Fawkes of
Dr Hellyer, and run away from school--the intervening time having
slipped by quickly enough while on board the coal brig at Newcastle, and
during our voyage down the coast again--but the weather, I recollect,
was wonderfully mild for the time of year; and, as we walked past the
terraces fronting the Hoe, the sun shone down on us, and over the blue
sea beyond in Plymouth Sound below, as if it had been a summer day.
Indeed, no matter what the weather might have been, I think it would
have seemed fine and bright to me; for, I don't believe I had ever felt
so happy in my life as I did when trudging along by Sam Pengelly's side
that morning.
"You're a pretty strong-built chap for your age," said Sam, as we went
along. "I suppose you're close on sixteen, eh?"
"Dear me, no," I laughed, light-heartedly. "Why, I'm only just
fourteen! I told you I was four when my poor father was killed; and
that, as you yourself said, happened ten years ago, so you can calculate
yourself."
"Bless me, so you must be by all accounts; but, sure, you look fully two
years older! Humph, you're a little bit too young yet to get
apprenticed to the sea regularly as I thought of; but there's plenty o'
time for us to study the bearings of it arter we fetch home. Come
along, step out. I feel kind o' peckish with all this palavering, and
thinks as how I could manage a bit of dinner pretty comfably, and it'll
be just about ready by the time we reach Stoke, as Jane's mighty
punctual to having it on the table by eight bells; step out, my hearty!"
Presently, turning off from the main road into a sort of bye-lane, my
conductor finally stopped before the entrance porch of a neat little
cottage, standing in a large garden of its own, that stretched away for
some distance on either side. There was an orchard also in the rear,
the fruit-trees of which, such was the mildness of the season, appeared
ready to break into bud.
"Here's my anchorage, laddie," said he, with a wave of his hand--
indicating the extent of his property.
"What a jolly little place!" I exclaimed.
"Yes," he replied, with pardonable pride, "I set my heart on the little
cabin years ago--afore I left the navy--and I used to save up my pay and
prize money, so as to buy it in time. I meant it for mother, but she
died before I could manage it; and then I bought it for myself, thinking
that Jane and I would live here until we should be summoned for the
watch on deck above, and that arter our time Teddy, my nephew, Jane's
only boy, would have it. But, not long arter we settled down comfably,
poor Teddy caught a fever, which carried him off; and Jane and I have
gone on alone, ever since, with only our two selves."
"You must miss your nephew Teddy," I said, sympathisingly, seeing a
grave look on his face.
"Yes, laddie, I did miss him very much, but now, my cockbird," and here
his face brightened up with another beaming smile, as he laid a meaning
emphasis on his words, "but now I fancy, somehow or other, I'll not miss
Teddy as much as I used to; d'ye know why?"
"No," I said, hesitatingly, and somewhat untruthfully, for I pretty well
guessed what he meant.
"Then I'll tell you," he continued, with much feeling and heartiness of
expression, "I've christened this here anchorage o' mine, `Old Calabar,'
in mem'ry o' the West Coast, where I sarved under your father in the
_Swallow_, as I told you just now; and, Master Leigh, as his son, I hope
you'll always consider the little shanty as your home, free to come and
go or stay, just as you choose, and ever open to you with a welcome the
same as now?"
What could I say to this?
Why, nothing.
I declare that I couldn't have uttered a word then to have saved my
life.
But he did not want any thanks.
Pretending not to notice my emotion, he went on speaking, so as to allow
me time to recover myself.
"Rec'lect this, laddie," said he, "that my sister Jane and I have
neither chick nor child belonging to either of us, and that your
presence will be like sunshine in the house. Come along in now, my boy.
I'll give Jane a hail to let her know we're here in harbour, so that
she can pipe down to dinner. Hi--hullo--on deck there!" and, raising
his voice, in this concluding shout--just as if he were standing on the
poop of a vessel in a heavy gale of wind and hailing a look-out man on
the fore-crosstrees--he opened the door of the cottage, motioning me
courteously to enter it first.