The Sailors' Home in Wreckumoft was a neat, substantial, unpretending
edifice, which had been built by a number of charitable people, in order
to provide a comfortable residence, with board at moderate terms, for
the numerous seamen who frequented our port. It also served as a place
of temporary refuge to the unfortunate crews of the numerous wrecks
which occurred annually on our shores.
Here I found Haco Barepoles, the skipper of a coal sloop, seated on the
side of his bed in one of the little berths of the Home, busily engaged
in stuffing tobacco into the bowl of a great German pipe with the point
of his little finger. Susan, who had outstripped me, was seated beside
him with her head on his shoulder.
"Oh, father!" I heard Susan say, as I walked along the passage between
the rows of sleeping berths that lined each side of the principal
dormitory of our Home; "I shall lose you some day, I fear. How was it
that you came so near bein' wrecked?"
Before the skipper could reply I stood in the doorway of his berth.
"Good-day, Haco," said I; "glad to see you safe back once more."
"Thankee, Cap'n Bingley--same to you, sir," said Haco, rising hastily
from the bed and seizing my hand, which he shook warmly, and, I must
add, painfully; for the skipper was a hearty, impulsive fellow, apt to
forget his strength of body in the strength of his feelings, and given
to grasp his male friends with a gripe that would, I verily believe,
have drawn a roar from Hercules.
"I've come back to the old bunk, you see," he continued, while I sat
down on a chest which served for a chair. "I likes the Home better an'
better every time I comes to it, and I've brought all my crew with me;
for you see, sir, the `Coffin's' a'most fallin' to pieces, and will have
to go into dock for a riglar overhaul."
"The Coffin?" said Susan, interrogatively.
"Yes, lass; it's only a nickname the old tub got in the north, where
they call the colliers coal-coffins, 'cause it's ten to one you'll go to
the bottom in 'em every time ye go to sea."
"Are they _all_ so bad as to deserve the name?" inquired Susan.
"No, not 'xactly all of 'em; but there's a good lot as are not half so
fit for sea as a washin' tub. You see, they ain't worth repairin', and
owners sometimes just take their chance o' makin' a safe run by keepin'
the pumps goin' the whole time."
I informed Haco that I had called for the purpose of telling him that I
had applied to Mr Stuart, who owned his little coal sloop, to give a
few wrecked Russians a passage to London, in order that they might be
handed over to the care of their consul; but that I would have to find a
passage for them in some other vessel, as the "Coffin" was so
unseaworthy.
"Don't be in too great a hurry, sir," said Haco, with a peculiar smile
and twinkle in his eye; "I'm inclined to think that Mr Stuart will send
her back to London to be repaired there--"
"What!" exclaimed Susan, with a flush of indignation, "an' risk your
life, father?"
"As to that, lass, my life has got to be risked anyhow, and it ain't
much worth, to say the truth; so you needn't trouble yourself on that
pint."
"It's worth a great deal to me," said Susan, drawing herself closer to
the side of her rugged parent.
I could not help smiling as I looked at this curious specimen of a
British seaman shaking his head gravely and speaking so disparagingly of
himself, when I knew, and every one in the town knew, that he was one of
the kindest and most useful of men. He was a very giant in size, with a
breadth of shoulder that would have made him quite ridiculous had it not
been counterbalanced by an altitude of six feet four. He had a huge
head of red hair, and a huge heart full of tenderness. His only fault
was utter recklessness in regard to his own life and limbs--a fault
which not unfrequently caused him to place the lives and limbs of others
in jeopardy, though he never could be brought to perceive that fact.
"Whatever your life may be worth, my friend," said I, "it is to be hoped
that Mr Stuart will not risk it by sending you to sea in the `Coffin'
till it is thoroughly overhauled."
"Come in!" shouted the skipper, in answer to a rap at the door.
The invitation to enter was not accepted, but the rap was repeated.
"Go, Susan," said I, "see who it is."
Susan obeyed--with unusual alacrity, as I fancied, but did not return
with equal quickness. We heard her whispering with some one; then there
was a sound as if of a suppressed scream, followed by something that was
marvellously like a slap applied to a cheek with an open hand. Next
moment Susan re-appeared with a letter and a very flushed face.
"A letter, sir," said Susan, dropping her eyes.
"Who brought it?" I inquired.
"Mr Horsey, sir." Susan stammered the name, and looked confused. "He
waits an answer, sir."
Haco Barepoles had been eyeing his daughter gravely the while. He now
sprang up with the wild energy that was his peculiar characteristic, and
flinging the door wide-open with a crash that shook the whole framework
of the berth, stood face to face with Dan Horsey.
Intense gravity marked the features of the groom, who stood, hat in
hand, tapping the side of his top-boot with a silver-mounted
riding-whip. He met Haco's steady frown with a calm and equally steady
gaze of his clear grey eyes; and then, relaxing into a smile, nodded
familiarly, and inquired if the weather was fine up there, bekaise,
judgin' from his, (Haco's), face he would be inclined to think it must
be raither cowld!