"Eh ben!" he shouted. "Eh ben! Eh ben!" while half a dozen
yellow-faced little fellows with rings in their ears looked down upon us
and grinned.
All at once they made way for a quick dark-looking body, with tiny half
grey corkscrew ringlets hanging round under his fur cap, not only at the
sides but all over his forehead. It was a man evidently, but he looked
like an elderly sharp-eyed wrinkled-faced woman, as he pushed a big lad
aside, and putting his arms on the bulwark, stared down at us.
"Vell, lad, vot you vant?" he said.
"Hungry, sir. Blown off the shore, sir," I cried. "We can't row back.
Can you understand? No parly vous."
"Bah, stupe, thick, headblock, who ask you parlez-vous? I am England
much, and speak him abondomment. How you do thank you, quite vell?"
"No, sir; we're starving, and cold and--and--and--tell him Big, I
can't."
I was done for. I could not keep it back, though I had said to myself
Bob Chowne was a weak coward, and, dropping on the thwart, I let my face
go down in my hands, and tried to keep back my emotion.
"Ah, you bigs boys, you speak me," I heard the French skipper say. "How
you come from? Come, call yourself."
"Uggleston, of the Gap," said Bigley, as boldly as he could. "Blown off
shore, sir, in the squall."
"Aha! Hey, hey? Ugglees-tone. Ma foi, you Monsieur Jonas
Ugglees-tone?"
"No, sir; I am his son," said Bigley.
"What say, sare, you Monsieur Jonas Ugglees-tone, you b'long?"
"Yes, sir; I belong to him. Will you give us something to eat?"
"Aha! You Engleesh boys, big garcon, always hungries. Vais; come
aboard my sheeps. Not like your papa--oh, no. I know him mosh, very
mosh. Know you papa, votr' pere, mon garcon. Come-you-up-you-come."
He said it all as if it were one word, so curiously that it seemed to
help me to get rid of my weakness, and I was about to stand up in the
boat when the French skipper said to Bigley:
"Look you! Aha. Boy ahoy you. What sheep you fader?"
"Do you mean what's the name of my father's lugger, sir?"
"Yes; you fater luggair--chasse maree. I say so. Vat you call. Heece
nem?"
"The _Saucy Lass_, sir."
He leaned over and looked at the stern of the boat and nodded his head.
"Yais, him's olright. Ze _Saucilass_. Come you up--you come, boys.
All you. Faites."
This last was to one of the men, who, as we climbed over the side of the
French lugger, descended into our boat, and made her fast by the painter
to the stern.
The skipper shook hands with us all, and smiled at us and patted our
shoulders.
"Pauvres garcons!" he said. "You been much blow away ce mornings, eh?"
"No, sir, last night," said Bigley.
"How you say? You lass night dites, mon garcon."
"We were fishing, sir, and the squall came, and we've been out all
night."
"Brrrr!" ejaculated the French skipper, shrugging his shoulders and
making a face, then seizing me he dragged me to a hole away in the stern
deck, and pushed me down into quite a snug little cabin with a glowing
stove.
"Come--venez. All you come," he cried, and he thrust the others down
and followed quickly.
"Pauvres garcons! Warm you my fire. Chauffez vous. Good you eat
bread? Good you drink bran-dee vis vater? Not good for boy sometime,
mais good now."
He kept on chattering to us, half in English, half in French; and as he
spoke he cut for us great pieces of bread and Devon butter, evidently
freshly taken on board that day. Next he took a large brown bottle from
a locker, and mixed in a heavy, clumsy glass a stiff jorum of brandy
with water from a kettle on the stove. Into this glass he put plenty of
Bristol brown sugar, and made us all drink heartily in turn, so as to
empty the glass, when he filled it again.
"It is--c'est bon--good phee-seek--make you no enrhumee--you no have
colds. No. Eat, boys. Aha! You warm yourselves. Hey?"
We thanked him, for the glowing stove, the sheltered cabin, the hot
brandy and water, and the soft new bread and butter, seemed to give us
all new life. The warm blood ran through our veins, and our clothes
soon ceased to steam. The French skipper, who had, as we rowed to the
side of the lugger, looked about as unpleasant and villainous a being as
it was possible to meet, now seemed quite a good genius, and whatever
his failings or the nature of his business, he certainly appeared to be
deriving real pleasure from his task of restoring the three
half-perished lads who had appealed to him for help, and the more we
ate, the more he rubbed his hands together and laughed.
"How zey feroce like ze volf, eh? How zey are very mosh hunger. Eat
you, my young vrens. Eat you, my young son of ze Jonas Ugglee-stone. I
know you fader. He is mon ami. Aha! I drink your helse all of you
varey."
He poured himself out a little dram of the spirit and tossed it off.
For a good half hour he devoted himself to us, making us eat, stoking
the little stove, and giving us blankets and rough coats to wear to get
us warm again. After that he turned to Bigley and laid his arms upon
his shoulders, drooping his hands behind, and throwing back his head as
he looked him in the face.
"You like me make my sheep to you hous, yais?"
"Take us home, sir. Oh, if you please," cried Bigley.
"Good--c'est bon--my frien. I make my sheep take you. Lay off, you
say, and you land in your leettle boats. My faith, yes! And you tell
you fader the Capitaine Apollo Gualtiere--he pronounced his surname as
if it was Goo-awl-tee-yairrrre--make him present of hees sone, and hees
young friens. Brave boys. Ha, ha!"
He nodded to us all in turn, and smiled as he gave us each a friendly
rap on the chest with the back of his hand.
"Now you warm mosh more my stove, and I go on le pont to make my sheep."
"But do you know the Gap, sir?" said Bigley eagerly.
"Do I know ze Gahp? Aha! Ho, ho! Do I not know ze Gahp vis him eye
shut? Peep! Eh? Aha! And every ozer place chez ze cote. Do I evaire
make my sheep off ze Gahp to de leettl business--des affaires vis
monsieur votre pere? Aha! Oh, no, nod-a-dalls."
He gave his nose a great many little taps with his right forefinger as
he spoke, and ended by winking both his eyes a great many times, with
the effect that the gold rings in his ears danced, and then he went up
the little ladder through the hatchway, to stand half out for a few
minutes giving orders, while we had a good look at the lower part of his
person, which was clothed in what would have been a stiff canvas
petticoat, had it not been sewn up between his legs, so as to turn it
into the fashion of a pair of trousers, worn over a pair of heavy
fishermen's boots.
Then he went up the rest of the way, and let in more light and air,
while the motion of the vessel plainly told us that her course had been
altered.
"Well," said Bob Chowne, speaking now for the first time, "he's the
rummest looking beggar I ever saw. Looks as if you might cut him up and
make monkeys out of the stuff."
"Well, of all the ungrateful--"