The little hall, or passage way, opening out of the porch, in which I
now found myself, was like the vestibule to a museum.
It was crammed full, from floor to ceiling, with all sorts of curios,
brought from foreign parts, evidently by the worthy owner of the
dwelling, when returning home after his many cruisings in strange
waters--conch shells from the Congo and cowries from Zanzibar; a
swordfish's broken spear from the Pacific, and a Fijian war-club; cases
of stuffed humming-birds from Rio, and calabashes from the Caribbean
Sea; a beautiful model, in the finest ivory work, of a Chinese junk on
one side, _vis-a-vis_ with a full-rigged English man-of-war on the
other; and, above all, in the place of honour, the hideous body of a
shark, displaying its systematic rows of triangularly arranged saw-like
teeth, now harmless, but once ready to mangle the unwary!
All these objects, of course, immediately attracted my attention, but I
had not much time for glancing round the collection; for, almost as soon
as we got inside the little hall, a bright-faced middle-aged woman, with
jet-black hair and eyes, the very image of my new friend, only much more
comely in feature, stepped forward from a room opening out of the other
end of the passage.
"Dear me, Sam, is that you?" she cried out in a voice closely resembling
his in its cheery accents, although more musical by reason of its
feminine ring; "I'm just dishing up, and dinner'll be ready as soon as
the pasty's done."
Her brother did not apparently pay any attention to this highly
important announcement for the moment.
"Come here, Jane," he said, "I've brought home a visitor."
With this she advanced, courtesying, her face changing as soon as she
came nearer and saw who the stranger was.
"My, Sam!" she exclaimed, "who is he? Why, he's the very image of poor
Ted!" and she raised the corner of her apron to her eyes as she spoke,
as if to stop the ready-starting tears.
"Whoever do you think he is?" said Sam Pengelly, triumphantly; "look at
him carefully, now. No, Jane, my woman, I don't believe you'd ever
guess!"
"Who?"
"Why, the son of my good old commander, Lieutenant Leigh, of the
_Swallow_, him as I've spun you so many yarns about! Why, Jane, my
woman, I found the poor little laddie a desarted young orphan on the Hoe
just now. He's friendless, with never a home to go to; and so I asked
him to come along o' me, saying as how you'd welcome him to `Old
Calabar' the same as I."
"And so I will, too, Sam," replied the other, coming up to me and
speaking; "I'm main glad to see you here, young gentleman, for I've
often heard Sam talk of your father, saying how good and kind he was to
him. You're heartily welcome to our little home. My gracious, Sam!"
she added, turning aside and using her apron again; "he's as like my Ted
as two peas! I can't help it!" and so saying, she threw her arms round
my neck and kissed me.
The action somewhat confused me; for, it was the first motherly caress I
had ever experienced in my life. Aunt Matilda, you may be sure, never
once thought of so greeting me!
"Avast there, Jane," laughed out Sam, much pleased at the way in which
his sister had received me. "What d'ye mean by boarding my prize in
that fashion? But I'm glad you think he's like Teddy--it will make it
more like old times and home-like for us to have the laddie with us."
"Aye, and he can have Ted's room," answered the other--all eagerness now
to see to my being completely arranged for--"I think the poor boy's
clothes will fit him too."
"So they will, and just in time, too, for he wants a new rig," said her
brother, casting a critical eye over my wardrobe, which had not been
improved by my stay on board the coal brig.
We then proceeded to enter a nice roomy old-fashioned kitchen, with a
cleanly-scoured floor like the deck of a man-of-war, and all resplendent
with rows of plates and burnished pewter pots and dish-covers, where we
had, what I considered both then and now to be, the best dinner I had
ever eaten in my life, winding up with an apple tart that had Devonshire
cream spread over it like powdered sugar--a most unparalleled
prodigality of luxury to my unaccustomed eyes and palate!
Afterwards, I was shown a little room at the back, looking out into the
garden, which had been formerly occupied by Teddy. Of this I was now
put in formal possession, along with a good stock of clothes which the
bereaved mother had carefully preserved in the chest-of-drawers in one
corner, just as if her boy had been still living, all ready for use.
These, she now told me, with tears in her eyes, I was heartily welcome
to, if I were not too proud to accept them, as, in wearing them, she
said, I should make her think that she yet had poor Ted to comfort her,
and I would take his vacant place in her heart. The good woman,
however, with housewifely care, brought up to the room a large tub with
a plentiful supply of hot water and soap, so that I might have "a
thorough wash," as she called it, before putting on the clean clothes.
Thus, through the kind hospitality of brother and sister alike, before
the day was out, I was as thoroughly at home in the household as if--
having stepped into the lost Teddy's shoes metaphorically as well as
practically--I had lived there for years!
It would take a volume for me to tell of all the kindness I received
from these people, the brother and sister vying with each other in their
endeavours to make me feel comfortable and at ease with them in my new
home.
Sam Pengelly, thinking it the right thing to do, wrote to Uncle George,
informing him where I now was; and saying, that, if my relatives had no
objection, he should like to be allowed to look after my future as if I
were his own son.
To this a reply soon came, to the effect that, as I had of my own will
thrown away all the advantages that had been secured for me in putting
me to a good school and holding out the offer of a situation afterwards
in a merchant's office, my uncle "washed his hands of me" on account of
my ungrateful and abandoned behaviour; and that, henceforth, he did not
care what became of me, nor would he be answerable for my support!
"That's a good 'un," said Sam Pengelly, as he read this. "That cranky
Aunt Matilda, you told me about, laddie, must ha' had a hand in this,
sartin; for, perhaps you don't know that I've diskivered as your uncle
drawed what they calls a `compassionate allowance' from My Lords of th'
Admiralty for your keep all them years they starved you under their roof
and pretended you was livin' on their charity!"
Sam Pengelly looked quite fierce and indignant as he made this, to me,
new revelation.
"Really?" I asked him, eagerly.
"Yes, laddie, it's true enough, for I've taken the pains to find it out
for a fact from a friend o' mine at head-quarters. Th' Admiralty allers
give an annual 'lowance for the support of the childer o' them officers
as is killed in action, that is when their folks are left badly off; and
some one must ha' put up your uncle to this, for he took precious good
care to draw it every year you was along o' him."
"Oh, I'm so glad!" I exclaimed, joyfully. "I only wish, though, I had
known it before, so that I could have thrown it back in Aunt Matilda's
teeth when she used to tell me that I was robbing her children of their
bread every meal I took in the house, taunting me with being only a
pauper!"
"Never mind that now," said Sam Pengelly--quite his composed, calm,
genial self again, after the little ebullition he had given way to on my
behalf. "Better let byegones be byegones. It is a good sailin'
direction to go upon in this world; for your cross old aunt will be
sartin to get paid out some time or other for her treatment o' you, I'll
wager! Howsomedevers, I'm glad we've got that letter from your uncle,
though. You see, laddie, it cuts them adrift altogether from any claim
on you; and now, if you be so minded, you can chuck in your lot with old
Sam and his sister--that is, unless you want to sheer off and part
company, and desart us?"
"Oh no, I'll never do that if I can help it," I replied, earnestly.
"Why, I did not know what it was to be happy and cared for till I met
you, and you brought me here to your home. I shall never willingly,
now, leave you here--that is, except you want me to."
"Then, that'll be never," said he, with an emphasis and a kindly smile
that showed his were no empty words.
Nor did they prove to be as time rolled on.
For many months after that casual meeting of ours on the Hoe, which I
little thought was going to lead to such happy consequences, the little
cottage at Stoke was my home in winter and summer alike; when Nature was
gay in her spring dress, and when dreary autumn came; although, it was
never dreary to me, no matter what the season might be.
In the summer months I used generally to accompany Sam in the short
trading trips he made in a little foretopsail schooner--of which he was
the registered owner, and generally took the command--when we would
fetch a compass for Falmouth or Torquay, and other small western ports;
between which places and Plymouth the schooner went to and fro when wind
and weather permitted.
Sometimes, tempted by the inducement that early potatoes and green peas
were plentiful and cheap at Saint Mary's, Sam would venture out as far
as the Scilly Isles; and once, a most memorable voyage, we made a round
trip in the little craft to the Bristol Channel and back--facing all the
perils of the "twenty-two fathom sandbank" off Cape Cornwall, with its
heavy tumbling sea.
This was not time wasted on my part; for I had not forgotten my ambition
of being a sailor, and now, under Sam Pengelly's able tuition I was
thoroughly initiated into all the practical details of seamanship,
albeit I had not yet essayed life on board ship in an ocean-going
vessel.
Sam Pengelly said, that, at fourteen, I was too young to be apprenticed
regularly to the sea, and that it would be much better for me to wait
until I should be able to be of use in a ship, and get on more quickly
in navigation. Going to sea before would only be lost time, for I could
gain quite as much experience of what it was necessary for me to know in
the schooner along with him, until it was time for me to go afloat in
real earnest.
This was what my old friend advised; and, although he declared himself
willing to forward my wishes should they go counter to his own views, I
valued his opinion too highly to disagree with it, judging that his
forty years' experience of the sea must have taught him enough to know
better than I about what was best in the matter.
My life, therefore, for the two intervening years, after I had run away
from school and before I went actually to sea, was a very even and
pleasant one--cut off completely, as it was, from all the painful past,
and the associations of Aunt Matilda and Dr Hellyer's. I had heard once
from Tom, my whilom chum, it is true, telling me that his mother had
persuaded him to go back to the Doctor's establishment, and that I
should not have any further communication from him in consequence--which
I didn't; and there was the one letter from Uncle George to Sam
Pengelly, "washing his hands of me," which I have already alluded to.
With these, however, all connection with my former existence ceased; and
I can't say I regretted it, cherished as I now was in the great loving
Cornish hearts of Sam and Jane Pengelly.
Sam would not let my education be neglected, however.
"No, no, laddie, we must keep a clear look-out on that," he often said
to me. "If I had only had eddication when I was in the sarvice, I'd ha'
been a warrant officer with a long pension now, instead o' having a
short one, and bein' 'bliged to trust to my own hands to lengthen it
out. If you wants to be a good navigator, you must study now when
you're young; for arterwards it will be no use, and you may be as smart
a sailor as ever handled a ship, and yet be unable to steer her across
the ocean and take advantage of all the short cuts and currents, and so
on, that only experienced seamen and those well up in book knowledge can
know about."
Acting on this reasoning, he got the master of a neighbouring school to
give me after-time lessons in mathematics and geography; and, in the
course of a few months, I was able to be inducted into the mysteries of
great circle sailing and the art of taking lunars, much to the
admiration of Sam, whom I'm afraid I often took a delight in puzzling
with trigonometrical phrases that sounded full of portentous difficulty,
albeit harmlessly easy.
As time went on, although I was happy enough at the cottage, I was
continually asking Sam if he had found me a ship yet, he having promised
to "keep his eye open" and let me know as soon as he saw a good
opportunity of placing me with some captain with whom I was likely to
learn my nautical calling well and have a chance of getting on up the
ladder; but, as regularly as I asked him the question, the old salt
would give me the same stereotyped answer--"No, laddie, our ship's not
got into port yet. We must still wait for an offing!"
But at last, after many days, this anxiously awaited "offing" was, much
to my satisfaction, apparently thought within reach by my old friend.
One morning I did not accompany him as usual into Plymouth after
breakfast, where the old fellow regularly proceeded every morning--never
feeling happy for the day unless he saw the sea before dinner. I was
busily engaged trimming up a large asparagus bed in the garden, wherein
my adopted mother took considerable interest.