THE MISHAP OF THE SKIPPING-ROPE.
"Story," said the Skipping-rope, "to be sure you shall have it, and a
very queer one it is, quite the oddest of the lot, I rather think. But I
shall be very happy to begin it at once, if the Kite will be so good as
to disentangle his tail."
"Pshaw," growled the Kite, "why, I was obliged to tell mine while you
were tugging at me all the while. Two or three times, when I had
something very particular to say, you pulled my tail, suddenly, and I
lost the thread of my discourse. So tit for tat, my friend, do you
unwind your yarn, and I won't serve you any worse than you did me."
The Skipping-rope, finding she could not gain her point, gave herself a
spiteful wriggle, which nearly tore off the grand tassel at the end of
the Kite's tail, and set off full gallop in her recital, leaving him no
breathing time to complain:--
"I began life," said she, "as a mere length of rope, although I only
form now a small portion of the coil to which I belonged. I was the
property of a poor fisherman, who lived in a hut belonging to a cluster
of storm-beaten cots, called by great courtesy, the 'village' of
Rocksand, in Devonshire. All the people who lived there were very poor,
and gained a precarious living by fishing, while their wives occupied
the spare time left after "keeping house, and minding the childer," by
cultivating the very small bits of garden ground that belonged to them,
and which were situated on the top of a very lofty cliff, some height
above the nestling cottages which were huddled under its shelter on the
shore, not so very far above the high tide line. Indeed, in stormy
weather, the rough seas which churned up the restless pebbles on the
beach, sent their waves in very adverse weather, and during winds that
set dead in shore, into somewhat disagreeable nearness to the doorsteps!
And as for the spray, well! in storms it put out the fires, by falling
down the low wide chimneys, but in ordinary weather people never minded
it.
"As for the children, they were like little ducklings, and directly they
were big they took to the water like young Newfoundland puppies; and
while they were too small for that, they played in it, and made "sand
pies," for there was no mud there, and became dirty and draggled, and
therefore happy to their heart's content. And a rare hardy, ruddy set
they were, living on the very scantiest and coarsest fare, and thriving
on the salt fresh breezes, like young giants, as they were. My owner was
a tall, strong young man, who supported his wife and two little ones by
his own incessant hard work. He was a capital climber too, and was very
fond of scrambling about the face of the cliff in almost inaccessible
places for birds' nests and eggs, of which he had quite a large
collection. He used to blow and preserve the eggs, replace them in their
pretty and curious nests, and then offer them for sale in the
neighbouring town. He also collected the samphire growing on the rocky
masses that jutted out into the sea, and for which his wife found a
ready sale in the town market. They were frugal, hard-working people,
but they often found it very difficult to provide food and clothing for
their little ones, and to keep the boat and nets in good repair. I am
proud to say I was a very useful member of the family, and was wanted
everywhere. During the intervals of time, when my services were not
required in the boat, I did duty as a clothes line, which rather grated
against my dignity, for I fancied it was not the sort of work I ought to
be set to do. However, I consoled myself with the reflection that I had
nothing to do with common clothes props or garden walls, for I was
generally stretched out on the beach, in a sheltered nook behind the
cottage. One end was tied fast to an old mast that now bore a
weathercock, and the other was fastened to a ring in a piece of rock,
near by. So I was patiently contented to hold up all the family wardrobe
to dry, for it was not a very large one, and I knew every time exactly
what I should have to carry. And the sea winds were very obliging, and
dried all the clothes so fast, that my patience was not much tested.
"I tethered the little boat to her landing-place close by, and many a
time has Mary been only too glad to lay hold of me, when her husband
threw me ashore, after a long night's buffeting with the winds and
waves. Even little Robin came behind her and gave fierce tugs at me, to
"draw daddie home again!" Once I saved his father's life, so precious to
all that little family, for he would have been sorely missed, while
there were so many young mouths to feed. It so happened on the day I
mean, that he had taken me out with him, not a usual thing unless it
threatened stormy weather. But that morning, when he set out early, the
sky was as blue and cloudless as on a bright summer's day, and there was
hardly a puff of wind going. He put up his little sail, but it flapped
almost lazily against the mast, and he and his "mate," as he called the
old boatman (who was a sort of second partner in the boat and fishing
gear), had to take to their oars and row to the fishing stakes and nets.
They had taken a good stock of fish, and were thinking of getting back
with the tide, when a sudden squall arose, beginning with "the little
black cloud, as big as a man's hand," and ending in a fierce wind, that
soon lashed the sea up into big mountains of waves. The fisherman, while
prudently watching and carefully managing his sail, had stood on the
seat of the boat, but a sudden gust coming as the wind chopped round to
another point, he stepped hastily on the side, his foot slipped on the
wet edge, and he overbalanced and fell into the raging waves. The old
boatman, who was used to mishaps at sea, dropped the tiller, and rushed
to his mate's assistance, and when he came to the surface threw an end
of my rope to him. By the help of this and the oar, he managed with some
difficulty, and after he had swam some time alongside, by my help to
drag him on board again, though with no small danger of upsetting the
frail skiff. They were some time in getting back, for the poor fellow
was rather exhausted by his ducking and long swim in the water, and
could not pull the oar with his usual skill. After that feat, I was
still more valued, and invariably taken out in the boat in case of
future accidents.
"And now the summer came on, and with it the busiest time of the women
of Rocksand, for most of them were hard at work early and late in their
little patches of garden ground. The fishermen generally left all these
matters to their wives, but my master was an industrious young man, and
was not particular what he turned his hand to, so that he might often
have been seen in the potato ground, hoeing and weeding, while his mates
were lying on the shore watching the weather or smoking their pipes at
the cottage doors. Just now, the crop of potatoes was being dug, and so
John Pike and his wife were hard at work on their ridges. It was a long
trudge from the village, and the weather was hot, so Mary had brought
both her children with her. The youngest, about two years old, she had
laid on an old shawl under the hedge, and there he sat propped up, and
mighty busy over a basket of shells she had brought up for him to play
with. The elder boy, about five, was trotting about very soberly, so
that they did not watch him perhaps as keenly as they ought, and so he
scrambled through a hole in the fence to the next field, and somehow
managed to tumble into the old well there. The fright of his parents on
hearing his shrieks may be imagined but not described, and they both
rushed to the direction the sound came from. John soon saw what was the
matter, and running back, snatched me hastily up, and ran to the side of
the well. It was luckily an old one, long unused, and in consequence of
the dry weather had but little water. It took John very few seconds to
throw one end of me hastily but tightly round a tree close by, and let
himself down. He got hold of the little fellow, and climbed out again
with my help, laying him on the grass, when he got him out. For a long
time they thought the child was dead; but they carried him home, and
very luckily met the village doctor on their way, by whose skill, after
long, long persevering efforts he was brought slowly to life. But for
many a month after that he was ill from the combined effects of the
shock, the bad air, the fright, and the water. Indeed, as the doctor
said, he must have spent a cat's nine lives in getting through it at
all.
"It was a sad trial for poor John and his wife, although they bore it
patiently enough, only thankful that their Robin was spared to them. But
his mother had no time to give to her crops now, and John had more than
he could manage with his fishing besides, and was not able to make it as
profitable as usual. But all their poor neighbours were very kind to
them, and would always bring in any bit of more tempting food than they
usually had, for poor little Robin. He lay patient enough on his hard
bed, and was very cheerful and bright when his illness would allow it.
His father had delighted him beyond measure by tying me to the top of
his bed, so that he could drag himself up into a sitting posture by my
help, and he fancied himself quite a sailor, and used to lie there
smiling, and talking in a low voice to himself about the ropes and
rigging of a ship. Old Bill, the boatman, his father's mate, had made
him a little boat, and while he was finishing it, he used to sit by poor
Robin's bedside, and tell him all about the different parts of a ship,
so that the child (who was naturally quick, and was now no doubt made
more so by his illness, and long rest), soon became quite knowing about
the different sails and ropes.
"'This is a sloop, Bill, aint it,' he used to say, ''cause she's only
got one mast. I should like to have a brig with two masts, and lots of
sails!'
"Poor little Robin! he was never well again, for, as it seemed
afterwards, his spine had received some injury from the fall, which it
never recovered. He only lived to be twelve years old, and during that
time could never get about like other boys, and was continually laid up,
especially in the cold winter season, for months together. But as his
body became so weak, his mind seemed to grow instead, and he was more
like a man than a child in his thoughts and ways, though _always_
patient. He improved on his old tutor's lessons too, and became quite a
skilful boat maker, and turned out some very pretty little wooden models
of ships and boats, all properly rigged, which his mother sold for him
in the market at the town hard by. He was able by these means to add a
little to the family fund, and though his gains were, of course, but
small, it was better than being a helpless burthen upon his poor
parents, and the light work whiled away many a weary hour of suffering
and pain for him. Through all the years that had passed since his
accident, I had been left still tied to the tester of his bed, and I
still served to help him to drag up his feeble limbs, and to turn in
bed, for he was very feeble, poor fellow.
[Illustration: JACK IN JEOPARDY. _Page 188._]
"But I was destined to play an important part once more, and for the
last time in the family history. When Robin was about twelve years old,
there came a very severe winter, which was sorely felt all through the
little fishing village, and by none more heavily than the poor
fisherman's family. The fishing turned out badly, and the previous
potato crop having been a scanty one, they barely found enough to live
upon. Poor Robin had been more than usually delicate and ailing during
that winter, and suffered more than the rest from all the privations.
The spring drew on drearily enough, cold, dull, and cheerless, so that
there scarcely seemed a glimpse of hope of better days. One day when
John was almost out of heart and hope, he set off on a long ramble,
hoping by diligent climbing and search to find at any rate a few rare
birds' nests in the crevices of the cliffs. Everything had gone worse
even than usual, there had been no fish caught worth mentioning for many
days, and John's poor old patched and mended nets were rapidly falling
to pieces in spite of all his care, while he was not able to buy enough
bread for the little household, not to mention material for new nets. So
he climbed wearily on, and rounded rock after rock, meeting with but
little success, till at last he had reached a long distance from home,
and had climbed a good way up one of the tallest cliffs in the
neighbourhood. He was rewarded by finding a couple of rare nests full of
eggs, and with renewed hope he climbed eagerly on. He saw one just a
little above him, but in a very awkward place to get at, for there was a
cleft in the rock he must leap over to get at it. He had a steady head
and a light foot, and took the leap without hesitation, when, to his
horror, as he alighted on the other side a piece of the mouldering stone
broke off, and fell rolling down with a loud noise, crumbling to pieces
as it bounded down the sharp rocky face of the cliff. There was now too
wide a space between for him to risk the return, and there he stood on a
narrow ledge of rock, with the sharp peaks and the roaring sea beneath
him, and a steep wall of cliff stretching up above his head. John Pike
was a brave man, and had been used to face many a danger, but the blood
seemed to leave his heart, and his breath almost stopped, as he
understood the full peril of his position. It was indeed a serious one,
and as he thought over the scant chance there was of any help or rescue,
he covered his face with his hands and groaned in agony for those at
home, more than for himself. And while he stood there, despairing of all
human aid, many a prayer went up from his heart's core to God for help
for the sake of his wife and poor Robin. And then he set to work with
all his best energy to make his terrible position known. He had
fortunately a handkerchief in his pocket, and this he tied to the
walking-stick he always took with him on his climbing expeditions. He
shouted at frequent intervals in the hope of making some one hear, and
at last, to his great joy, he espied a little figure below on the
distant beach! It was a poor shrimper, with her nets on her back,
returning home, and she saw at a glance how the case stood, and hastened
at once to the village to give an alarm. In a shorter space of time than
could have been hoped even, John saw a number of his fellow fishermen
hastening down the beach to him. He could not catch their words, but he
understood from their signs that they found it would be impossible to
get him down again, and so they were going to mount the cliff, and try
and get at him that way. As they passed the village on their way to the
top of the cliff, poor Mary rushed out wildly to them, for she had by
accident heard the truth, anxiously as her kind neighbours had tried to
prevent it. They hastily told her their plans, and asked her for the
longest ropes she had, as they would want all they could get. She
hurriedly dragged me down, and rushed after them, for, as she said, she
could not stay at home, while her husband was in such peril, and she
must see the worst with her own eyes. When they reached the top of the
cliff, the fishermen hastily rigged up a sort of rude windlass, and
knotting the lengths of rope firmly together, they succeeded in making a
line long enough to reach him, and firm enough to bear him. It was an
anxious time, while they gradually drew him up the steep face of the
cliff. They did not dare to pull quickly, for fear he should be dashed
against the rock and lose his hold, and they were also afraid of grazing
the rope against the jagged rocks. But at last, with great care, and by
his own prudent management and skill in guiding the rope, he was landed
safely on the top of the cliff. Poor Mary was so overjoyed at his
escape, that when they all turned to go home, and were tying up the rope
again, she caught me up, and declared she should value me to her dying
day. Strangely enough, I was the only rope that was damaged of all, for
I had been chafed a good deal against the rock, and in one place was
nearly cut through. For a long while after Mary shuddered so at the
sight of that piece of me, that at last Robin, who had regained
possession of me, cut me through. The longer piece was kept for the
boat, and the shorter length you now behold was tied up again for poor
Robin's use as before.
"There was not one in the village who did not heartily rejoice at John's
rescue; and it almost seemed as if after that things had come to the
worst, for they began to mend. There were more fish taken than had been
known on that coast for many years, and the weather proved most
fortunate for getting in the humble crops, so that John had some new
nets at last; and the poor family had enough to eat. But better food and
brighter days could not save poor Robin; the long winter had told too
heavily upon him to enable him to rally again. By the time the
blackberries were in flower on the top of the cliff, Robin had faded
away, like their leaves, but very patient, very happy to the last. His
mother had fancied him asleep, as he lay so quietly with one of my ends
still held fast in his wasted fingers. His mother fretted so for him,
and took his loss so sadly to heart, that it was pitiable to see her.
The sight of his vacant bed, and the cord still hanging there, seemed to
go like a knife to her heart; and therefore John took me away one day
without her knowledge, and put me out of sight.
"I was forgotten for many years, so many indeed, that when I next came
to daylight I found everything strange and altered in the cottage. John
and his wife, grown old and past work, had gone to live in another
house, better sheltered from the wind, and one of their children, now
married, had settled there instead. I was tossed about for a long while,
for no one now living knew my real history, and had therefore little
value for me, and indeed I was more especially held in dislike by the
young ones, as affording them just that taste of "the rope's end" that
they did not covet.
"The end of my career was that of being tied round a box, when one of
the daughters went to service, and left Rocksand, and thus I came to
town. My life here had nothing remarkable in it; I was put to my present
use one day when one of the young Spensers was taken with a passion for
skipping. They declared I was heavier and better than all the smart
skipping-ropes to be bought at the toy shop, and made such continual use
of me, that I am really almost threadbare. But I was poked away in this
cupboard on the occasion of some great nursery clearing, and here I have
lived ever since."
"How you must have regretted your freedom," said the Kite, in a
sympathising tone; "I feel myself sometimes quite what I may call
sky-sick! I would give all my tassels and fringes for one more good
flight through the clear air. When I think of the bright sun, and the
nice fleecy clouds, I am almost inclined to tumble to pieces for grief,
to think I can't get out of this horrid, dusty stuffy hole of a toy
cupboard, as they call it! A prison _I_ consider it, and a cruel one
too!"
"I _would_ give anything I could," sighed the old Skipping-rope, "for
even one breath of the fresh salt sea breeze. I think of the dancing
waves glittering in the sun, till I feel quite giddy. But it is no use
repining, and after all, really this little break on the monotony of our
existence is very pleasant."
"It _is_ very pleasant," assented the Ball, "but I am afraid our time
to-night at any rate grows very short, for it is almost dark, and that
terrible old woman will be coming back. So with your leave, my friends,
I will call upon the Humming Top for his story."
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