ON BOARD THE GUNBOAT _RATTLER_.
Creggan Ogg M'Vayne worked very hard indeed to make sure of passing.
I am quite certain of one thing, that did any lad study so hard in a
city, burning perhaps the midnight oil and sitting in a
badly-ventilated, stuffy room, although at the examination he might
make quite a good show, still "his face would be sicklied o'er with
the pale cast of thought". He could not be in good health; and I
have known many a boy who, bright in intellect, was too weakly to
"pass the doctor", as it is called.
But it was all so very different with Creggan.
There is no more bracing or healthy island in the world than Skye,
and during the summer, and all throughout the autumn till the "fa' o'
the year", his study was out of doors.
On fine days it was always on that green-topped cliff where the wild
thyme grew. I verily believe, and Creggan himself used to think so,
that the song of the sea as the waves broke lazily on the brown
weed-covered boulders, far beneath the cliff, making a solemn bass to
the musical cry of the gulls, the kittiwakes, and skuas, helped the
lad along. It lulled him, soothed him, so that his head was always
clear and his mind never too exalted.
City students often need a wet towel to tie around their brows when
at work. Creggan needed none of that; his bonnet lay near him, on
Oscar's ear, and the cool and gentle breezes fanned his brow, so that
hard though his "grind" undoubtedly was his face remained hard and
brown, with a tint of carmine on his cheeks.
On stormy days even, he did not go indoors, for M'Ian the minister
knew the value of fresh air, and had a kind of summer-house study
built in his garden for his son and daughter, Rory and Maggie, and
Creggan.
Both were very fond of Creggan. In fact, being brought up together,
they were like brother and sister to him, in a manner of speaking,
and well he loved them in return.
* * * * * * * * * * *
But the winter itself wore away at last. And a wild tempestuous
winter it had been. There were weeks at a time when Creggan could
not leave his little island home, for the seas that tumbled and
heaved around, and surged in foaming cataracts high up the sides of
the black and beetling cliffs, would have sunk the stoutest boat that
was ever built.
But Creggan had not been idle for all that. There had come a six
weeks' spell of calm, clear, frosty weather, with seldom a breath of
wind or cat's-paw to ruffle the glassy surface of the smooth Atlantic
rollers. So high were these "doldrums" at times, that when Creggan's
skiff was down in the trough of the seas as he rowed manfully
shorewards, there were long seconds during which Rory and Maggie,
watching his progress eagerly, could not see him.
Then, when he mounted a house-high wave, they would rejoicingly wave
their handkerchiefs to him, and he his bonnet to them.
Yes, winter flew far away back to the icy Arctic regions on
snow-white wings, and soft gentle spring returned, laden with bird
and bud and green bourgeon to scatter over hill and brae and moorland.
And next came Creggan's time to start for the far south to face his
examiners. I shall not linger over the leave-takings. He departed
with many blessings, and many prayers would be prayed for his
success. M'Ian kindly accompanied him to Portree and saw the steamer
off. Then the boy was all alone in the world, because for the time
being he had left even poor sad-eyed Oscar with Daddy the hermit.
Yes, Creggan was bold enough to take the journey all by himself--by
steamer to Glasgow, by train to Leith, and by steamer again to
London. He had been recommended to a small but comfortable hotel,
and here he took up his abode till the exam. days came round. Of
course everything in London streets was strangely foreign to Creggan,
and very confusing. He didn't like it. The twangy jargon of the
guttersnipe boys grated harshly on his ear; the streets were thick in
greasy mud; all aloft was gloom and fog, and never a green thing
about.
"I'll do my best to pass well," he said to himself as he left one day
to be present at the examination; "I'll do my best to pass, but I
sha'n't be sorry if I don't."
There were other boys trying to enter the Navy creditably, and though
many were bold, handsome English lads, most were pale, nervous, and
frightened.
* * * * * * * * * * *
About a week afterwards Archie M'Laren's boat might have been seen
driving over the Minch towards the island.
The hermit knew from his face that he was the bearer of good tidings.
"Hurrah, sir!" he cried, waving a letter aloft. "I've had one
myself. Creggan has passed with more marks than anybody. Aren't you
joyful, sir?"
The hermit, as he rapidly read Creggan's schoolboyish caligraphy, was
indeed too joyful to speak, and I'm not sure but that his eyes were
moist with tears.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Before going to sea, of course, Creggan had to put in time on board
the _Britannia_, and after that to be further examined. He was a
great favourite with the other cadets, and a noisy, joyous lot they
were, brimful of fun, commingled with a modicum of mischief.
At long last he was appointed to a small ship, and this was an
ironclad too. He didn't like her. This wasn't his idea of a ship.
She lay at Sheerness; and he didn't like Sheerness either, and I
never knew anyone who did.
But the _Rattler_ was only a gunboat, and bound for the African
shores.
Now Creggan was a brave lad, so he took a step that few boys would
have dared to take. He went to visit Captain, or rather Commander
Jeffries at his hotel. He found that gallant gentleman lingering
over dessert. A very tall and handsome man, with a jolly, smiling
face, but exceedingly stout.
"Well, my lad," he said, "come in and bring yourself to anchor.
You're one of the _Rattler's_ middies, aren't you?"
[Illustration: "WELL, MY LAD, YOU'RE ONE OF THE 'RATTLER'S' MIDDIES,
AREN'T YOU?"]
"Yes, sir."
"Have a glass of wine, my lad. No? Better without. But what can I
do for you?"
"If you please, Captain Jeffries, I have a lovely gentle collie dog.
Can I take him to sea?"
"I love dogs, my lad, and would gladly have your collie. But," he
paused and laughed till the glasses rung, "a curious thing has
happened. I cannot go to sea in the _Rattler_, and another officer
must be appointed in my place."
"May I ask, sir--"
"Yes, I'll tell you the 'why', and it is just here where the smile
comes in. I am too big to get below, through the companion, and I
couldn't remain on deck all the cruise, you know. I've had a deal of
correspondence and red-tapery already about it. 'You must take up
your appointment', said their lordships. I wrote a few days ago
saying plainly 'I sha'n't', adding, 'What's the use of a commander
taking a ship if he can't get more than just his legs below'."
"Yes, sir," said Creggan smiling.
"Well, at last they are going to appoint another officer, and I'm
sorry to tell you, my lad, that Captain Flint, who is what we call a
kind of sea-lawyer, and pretends to know everything, hates both dogs
and music. I'm sorry for you, boy, but keep up your spirits. Your
ship won't be more than two years out, and when you return, owing to
the splendid show I hear you made at your examinations, you'll be
entitled to apply for any ship you like, and if I'm in England call
on me and I'll put you up to the ropes. There, good-bye. Keep up
your heart, my lad, and you'll do well."
Creggan walked briskly and quickly towards the pier; he was
determined he would not give way for anything.
Just two years after this we still find the _Rattler_ cruising about
the west coast of Africa, and despite its unhealthiness there was no
extra sickness on board and no fever.
Captain Flint was really a good sailor, but snappish and ill-natured.
He bullied everyone around him, and often punished his men and boys
severely.
Under such a commander it is almost needless to say that Creggan's
life was not altogether a happy one. However, he did his duty, and
did it with method and precision. He was so strong and healthy that
there was no one on board that ship who could make him nervous. But
he used to pity some of his messmates who, though a year or two
older, were smaller and less bold than he. Both the first and second
lieutenants were real good fellows, but this little fiery-haired,
ferret-eyed commander, or skipper, as all hands plainly called him
when out of hearing, cowed even these.
I do not suppose that Flint could help himself, and it is always
best, I think, to say all one can for even bad men. Now,
whisper--the commander's wine-cellar was far too big for him. I do
not think anybody ever saw the little man intoxicated, on deck at all
events, but that curse of our nation--alcohol--made him crabbed and
peevish, and he did not care then whom he insulted.
One or two instances of how Flint carried on may serve to show my
readers what a tyrant even the commander of a Royal Navy screw
gunboat may make himself, on a lonely coast like that of the western
shores of Africa.
Please remember that I am not depending on my imagination for my
facts, the experiences were my own.
The surgeon of the _Rattler_--and there was but one--for the craft
was only 800 tons, was a sturdy Scot, who did his duty, and did not
care a pin-head for anyone. His very independence annoyed Flint.
"I'll bring that saucy Scot to his senses," he said one night to his
first lieutenant, who was dining with him.
The first luff, laughing, told the doctor next morning that he was to
be brought down a peg, and asked him how he would like it.
The surgeon--Grant, let us call him--merely laughed and said quietly:
"It won't be that little skin-Flint that will do it. Why, Lacy, I
could take him up with one hand and hold him overboard while I shook
his teeth out into the sea. I could mop up the quarter-deck with
him, then stand him on his head on the top of the capstan."
Everyone laughed, because everyone liked the surgeon.
But as the commander had said he would make the surgeon haul down his
flag, he determined to act, and went to bed grinning to himself.
The persecution began next morning.