One day Joe Baldwin, assisted by his old friend, Rooney Machowl, was
busily engaged down at the bottom of the sea, off the Irish coast,
slinging a box of gold specie. He had given the signal to haul up, and
Rooney had moved away to put slings round another box, when the chain to
which the gold was suspended snapt, and the box descended on Joe. If it
had hit him on the back in its descent it would certainly have killed
him, but it only hit his collar-bone and broke it.
Joe had just time to give four pulls on his lines, and then fainted. He
was instantly hauled up, carefully unrobed, and put to bed.
This was a turning-point in our diver's career. The collar-bone was all
right in the course of a month or two, but Mrs Baldwin positively
refused to allow her goodman to go under water again.
"The little fortin' you made out in Chiny," she said one evening while
seated with her husband at supper in company with Rooney and his wife,
"pays for our rent, an' somethin' over. You're a handy man, and can do
a-many things to earn a penny, and I can wash enough myself to keep us
both. You've bin a 'ard workin' man, Joe, for many a year. You've bin
long enough under water. You'll git rheumatiz, or somethin' o' that
sort, if you go on longer, so I'm resolved that you shan't do it--
there!"
"Molly, cushla!" said Machowl, in a modest tone, "I hope you won't clap
a stopper on my goin' under water for some time yit--plaze."
Molly laughed.
"Oh! It's all very well for you to poke fun at me, Mister Machowl,"
said Mrs Baldwin, "but you're young yet, an' my Joe's past his prime.
When you've done as much work as he's done--there now, you've done it at
last. I told you so."
This last remark had reference to the fact that young Teddy Machowl,
having been over-fed by his father, had gone into a stiff
blue-in-the-face condition that was alarming to say the least of it.
Mrs Machowl dashed at her offspring, and, giving him an unmerciful
thump on the back, effected the ejection of a mass of beef which had
been the cause of the phenomena.
"What a bu'ster it is--the spalpeen," observed Rooney, with a smile, as
he resumed the feeding process, much to Teddy's delight; "you'll niver
do for a diver if you give way to appleplectic tendencies o' that sort.
Here--open your mouth wide and shut your eyes."
"Well, well, it'll only be brought in manslaughter, so he won't swing
for it," remarked Mrs Baldwin, with a shrug of her shoulders. "Now,
Joe," she continued, turning to her husband, "you'll begin at once to
look out for a situation above water. David Maxwell can finish the job
you had in hand,--speakin' of that, does any one know where David is
just now?"
"He's down at the bottom of a gasometer," answered Joe; "leastwise he
was there this afternoon--an' a dirty place it is."
"A bad-smellin' job that, I should think," observed Rooney.
"Well, it ain't a sweet-smellin' one," returned Joe. "He's an
adventurous man is David. I don't believe there's any hole of dirty
water or mud on the face o' this earth that he wouldn't go down to the
bottom of if he was dared to it. He's fond of speculatin' too, ever
since that trip to the China seas. You must know, Mrs Rooney, if your
husband hasn't told you already, that we divers, many of us, have our
pet schemes for makin' fortunes, and some of us have tried to come
across the Spanish dubloons that are said to lie on the sea-bottom off
many parts of our coast where the Armada was lost."
"It's jokin' ye are," said Mrs Machowl, looking at Joe with a sly
twinkle in her pretty eyes.
"Jokin'! No, indeed, I ain't," rejoined the diver. "Did Rooney never
tell ye about the Spanish Armada?"
"Och! He's bin sayin' somethin' about it now an' again, but he's such a
man for blarney that I never belave more nor half he says."
"Sure ain't that the very raison I tell ye always at laste twice as much
as I know?" said Rooney, lighting his pipe.
"Well, my dear," continued Joe, "the short an' the long of it is, that
about the year 1588, the Spaniards sent off a huge fleet of big ships to
take Great Britain and Ireland by storm--once for all--and have done
with it, but Providence had work for Britain to do, and sent a series o'
storms that wrecked nearly the whole Spanish fleet on our shores. Many
of these vessels had plenty of gold dubloons on board, so when divin'
bells and dresses were invented, men began to try their hands at fishin'
it up, and, sure enough, some of it was actually found and brought up--
especially off the shores of the island of Mull, in Scotland. They even
went the length of forming companies in this country, and in Holland,
for the purpose of recovering treasure from wrecks. Well, ever since
then, up to the present time, there have been speculative men among
divers, who have kept on tryin' their hands at it. Some have succeeded;
others have failed. David Maxwell is one of the lucky ones for the most
part, and even when luck fails, he never comes by any loss, for he's a
hard-workin' man, an' keeps a tight hold of whatever he makes, whether
by luck or by labour."
"But what about the bad-smellin' job he's got on hand just now?" asked
Rooney.
"Why, he's repairin' the bottom of a gas tank. He got the job through
recoverin' some gold watches that were thrown into the Thames by some
thieves, as they were bein' chased over London Bridge. David found ten
of 'em--one bein' worth fifty pounds. Well, just at that time an
experienced and hardy fellow was wanted for the gas-work business, so
David was recommended. You know a gas tank, as to look an' smell, is
horrible enough to frighten a hippopotamus, but David went up to the
edge of this tank by a ladder, and jumped in as cool as if he'd bin
jumpin' into a bed with clean sheets. He stopped down five hours. Of
course, in such filthy water, a light would have been useless. He had
to do it all by feelin', nevertheless, they say, he made a splendid job
of it,--the bed of clay and puddle, at the bottom, bein' smoothed as
flat a'most as a billiard table,--besides fixin' sixteen iron-plates for
the gas-holder to rest on. He was to finish the job this afternoon, I
believe." [See Note 1.]
"Ah, he's a cute feller is David," observed Rooney, reflectively, as he
watched a ring of smoke that rose from his pipe towards the ceiling.
"What d'ee intind to turn your hand to if you give up divin', Joe?"
"If!" said Mrs Baldwin, with a peculiar intonation.
"Well, _when_ you give it up," said Rooney, with a bland smile.
"I'm not rightly sure," replied Joe. "In the first place, I'll watch
for the leadings of Providence, for without that, I cannot expect
success. Then I'll go and see Mr Berrington, who has just returned,
they say, from his wedding trip. My own wish is to become a sort of
missionary among the poor people hereabouts."
"Why, Joe," said his friend, "you've bin that, more or less, for years
past."
"Ay, at odd times," returned Joe, "but I should like to devote _all_ my
time to it now."
In pursuance of his plan the ex-diver went the following morning to the
sea-shore, and walked in the direction of Sea Cottage, following the
road that bordered the sands.
Near to that cottage, about two hundred yards from it, stood a small but
very pretty villa. Joe knew its name to be Sea-beach Villa, and
understood that it was the abode of his former master and friend, Edgar
Berrington. There was a lovely garden in front, full to overflowing
with flowers of every name and hue, and trellis-work bowers here and
there, covered with jessamine and honeysuckle. A sea-shell walk led to
the front door. Up this walk the diver sauntered, and applied the
knocker.
The door was promptly opened by a very small, sharp-eyed domestic.
"Is your master at home, my dear?" asked Joe, kindly.
"I ain't got no master," replied the girl.
"No!" returned Joe, in some surprise. "Your missus then?"
"My missus don't live 'ere. I'm on'y loaned to this 'ouse," said the
small domestic; "loaned by Miss Pritty for two days, till they find a
servant gal for themselves."
"Oh!" said Joe, with a smile, "is the gentleman who borrowed you
within?"
"No, 'e ain't," replied the small domestic.
At that moment Mr Hazlit walked up the path, and accosted Joe.
"Ah, you want to see my son-in-law? He had not yet returned. I expect
him, however, to-day. Perhaps, if you call in the afternoon, or
to-morrow morning, you may--"
He was interrupted by the sound of wheels. Next moment a carriage
dashed round the corner of the garden wall, and drew up in front of the
house. Before the old gentleman had clearly realised the fact, he found
himself being smothered by one of the prettiest girls in all England,
and Joe felt his hand seized in a grasp worthy of a diver.
While Aileen dragged her father into the villa, in order to enable him
to boast ever after that he had received the first kiss she ever gave
under her own roof, Edgar led Joe to a trellis-work arbour, and, sitting
down beside him there, said:--
"Come, Joe, I know you want to see me about something. While these two
are having it out indoors, you and I can talk here."
"First, Mister Eddy," said Joe, holding out his big horny hand, "let me
congratulate you on comin' home. May the Lord dwell in your house, and
write His name in your two hearts."
"Amen!" returned Edgar, again grasping the diver's hand. "My dear wife
and I expect to have that prayer answered in our new home, for we put up
a similar one before entering it. And now, Joe, what is it that you
want?"
"Well, sir, the fact is, that my old woman thinks since I smashed my
shoulder, that it's high time for me to give up divin', and take to
lighter work; but I didn't know you were comin' home to-day, sir. I
thought you'd been home some days already, else I wouldn't have come to
you, but--"
"Never mind, Joe. There's no time like the present--go on."
Thus encouraged, Joe explained his circumstances and desires. When he
had ended, Edgar remained silent for some minutes.
"Joe," he said at length, "you used to be fond of gardening. Have you
forgotten all about it?"
"Why, not quite, sir, but--"
"Stay--I'll come back in a few minutes," said Edgar, rising hastily, and
going into the house.
In a few minutes he returned with his wife.
"Joe," said he, "Mrs Berrington has something to say to you."
"Mr Baldwin," said Aileen, with a peculiar smile, "I am greatly in want
of a gardener. Can you tell me where I am likely to find one, or can
you recommend one?"