"If I may venture to make so bowld as to say so in the presence of your
highness, I was."
"Then wait," said Haco, smiling a little less grimly.
"Thank ye, sir, for yer kind permission," said Dan in a tone and with an
air of assumed meekness.
The skipper returned to the bed, which creaked as if taxed to its
utmost, when he sat down on it, and drew Susan close to his side.
"This is from Mr Stuart, Haco," said I, running my eye hastily over the
note; "he consents to my sending the men in your vessel, but after what
you have told me--"
"Don't mind wot I told ye, Captain Bingley. I'll see Mr Stuart to-day,
an'll call on you in the afternoon. The `Coffin' ain't quite so bad as
she looks. Have 'ee any answer to send back?"
"No," said I, turning to Dan, who still stood at the door tapping his
right boot with a jaunty air; "tell your master, with my compliments,
that I will see him about this matter in the evening."
"And hark'ee, lad," cried Haco, again springing up and confronting the
groom, "d'ye see this young 'ooman?" (pointing to Susan.)
"Sure I do," replied Dan, with a smile and a nod to Susan, "an' a purty
cratur she is, for the eye of man to rest upon."
"And," shouted Haco, shaking his enormous fist within an inch of the
other's nose, "d'ye see them there knuckles?"
Dan regarded them steadfastly for a moment or two without winking or
flinching.
"They're a purty bunch o' fives," he said at length, drawing back his
head, and placing it a little on one side in order to view the "bunch,"
with the air of a connoisseur; "very purty, but raither too fat to do
much damage in the ring. I should say, now, that it would get `puffy'
at the fifth round, supposin' that you had wind and pluck left, at your
time of life, to survive the fourth."
"Well now, lad," retorted the skipper, "all I've to say is, that you've
seed it, an' if you don't mind yer eye ye'll _feel_ it. `A nod's as
good as a wink to a blind horse.'"
Haco plunged the "bunch of fives" into his coat-pocket, and sat down
again beside his agitated daughter.
"I can speak purfessionally," said Dan, "in regard to yer last
obsarvation consarnin' blind hosses, and I belave that ye're c'rect. It
_don't_ much matter whether ye nod or wink to a blind hoss; though I
can't spake from personal exparience 'caise I niver tried it on, not
havin' nothin' to do with blind hosses. Ye wouldn't have a weed, would
ye, skipper?" he added, pulling out a neat leather case from which he
drew a cigar!
"Go away, Dan, directly," said I with some asperity, for I was nettled
at the impudence of the man in my presence, and not a little alarmed
lest the angry Haco should kick him down-stairs.
Dan at once obeyed, bowing respectfully to me, and, as I observed,
winking to Susan as he turned away. He descended the stair in silence,
but we heard him open the door of the public room and address the
Russians, who were assembled there, warming themselves at the fire, and
enjoying their pipes.
"Hooray! my hearties," said Dan; "got yer broken legs rewived I hope,
and yer spurrits bandaged up? Hey,--och! I forgot ye can swaller
nothin' but Toorko--cum, squaki lorum ho po, doddie jairum frango
whiskie looro--whack?--eh! Arrah! ye don't need to answer for fear the
effort opens up yer wounds afresh. Farewell, lads, or may be it's
wishin' ye fair-wind would be more nat'ral."
So saying he slammed the door, and we heard him switching his boots as
he passed along the street under the windows, whistling the air of "The
girls we left behind us," followed, before he was quite out of earshot,
by "Oh my love is like the red red rose, that's newly sprung in June."
Immediately after Dan's departure I left Haco and Susan together, and
they held the following conversation when left alone. I am enabled to
report it faithfully, reader, because Susan told it word for word to her
mistress, who has a very reprehensible habit of listening to the gossip
of her maid. Of course Mrs B told it to me, because she tells
everything to me, sometimes a good deal more than I care to hear. This
I think a very reprehensible habit also. I am bound to listen, because
when my strong-minded wife begins to talk I might as well try to stop a
runaway locomotive as attempt to silence her. And so it comes about
that I am now making the thing public!
"Susan," said Haco, earnestly looking at his daughter's downcast face,
on which the tell tale blood was mantling. "Are you fond o' that--that
feller?"
"Ye-yes, father," replied Susan, with some hesitation.
"Humph! an' is he fond o' _you_?"
"Oh, isn't he, just," said Susan, with a little confused laugh.
"Susan," continued Haco, with increasing earnestness, "Are ye sure he's
worthy of you?"
"Yes, father, I'm _quite_ sure of that."
"Well then, Susan, you're a sensible girl, and you ought to know best;
but I don't feel easy about ye, 'cause you're just as like as two peas
to your dear mother, what went to the bottom in the last coal-coffin I
commanded, an' you would ha' gone too, darlin', if I hadn't bin spared
to swim ashore with ye on my back. It was all I could do. Ah, Susan!
it was a black night for you an' me that. Well, as I was a sayin',
you're as like yer mother as two peas, and she was as trustful as you
are, an' little knew wot a bad lot she got when she set her heart on
me."
"Father, that's not true."
"Ain't it, lass? Well, let it pass, but then this feller, this Dan
Hursey--"
"Horsey, father," said Susan.
"Well, well, it ain't much better; this Horsey is an Irishman, an' I
don't like Irishmen."
"Father, you'd get to like 'em if you only knew 'em better," said Susan
earnestly. "What bell's that?" she added, as a loud ringing echoed
through the house.
"The dinner bell, lass. Come an' see wot a comf'rable feed they git. I
can tell 'ee that them Sailors' Homes is the greatest blessin' that was
ever got up for us sea-dogs. We ain't 'xactly such soft good natur'd
ignorant big babies as some o' your well-meanin' pheelanthropists would
make us out; but we _are_ uncommon hard put to it when we git ashore,
for every port is alive with crimps an' land-sharks to swaller us up
when we come off a long voyage; an' the wust of it is, that we're in a
wild reckless humour for the most part when we git ashore with our
pockets full o' yellow boys, an' are too often quite willin' to _be_
swallered up, so that lots of us are constantly a-goin' to sticks an'
stivers. An' then before the Homes was set a-goin', the fellers as
wanted to get quiet lodgin's didn't find it easy to know where to look
for 'em, an' was often took in; an' when they wanted to send cash to
their wives or mothers, they didn't well know how to manage it; but now,
wherever there's a Home you can git cheap board, good victuals, help in
the way o' managin' yer cash, an' no end of advice gratis. It's only a
pity there ain't one or two of 'em in every port in the kingdom.
"See here," continued Haco, warming with his subject as he led Susan
past the dormitories where the Russians, who had been maimed during the
recent wrecks, were being supplied with dinner in their berths, "see
here,--another o' the best o' the institootions o' this land looks arter
them poor fellers, an' pays their shot for 'em as long as they're here,
an' sends them to their homes free of expense--that's the Shipwrecked
Fishermen's and Mariners' Society. You've heerd o' that Society, Susan,
haven't 'ee?"
"No father, never."
"What, never heerd o' the Shipwrecked Mariners' Society with its
hundreds o' honorary agents all round the coast, who have done more to
dry the tears o' orphans an' comfort widders' hearts than tongue can
tell?--Never heerd o' it, an' you a sailor's daughter?"
"I daresay I'm very stupid for being so ignorant, father; but I never
heard of it. You know I've spent most o' my life inland with old Auntie
Bess, an' only come here this year.
"Mayhap," continued Haco, shaking his head gravely, "you've never
heer'd, neither, o' the Lifeboat Institootion."
"Never," said Susan meekly. "I've seen the lifeboat we have here, you
know, but I never heard of the Institootion."
"Well, well, Susan, I needn't be surprised, for, to say truth, there's
many in this country, who think no small beer o' theirselves, that know
precious little about either the one or the other, although they're the
most valooable Institootions in the country. I'll tell 'ee about 'em,
lass, some other time--how they saves hundreds o' lives, an' relieves no
end o' distress annooally. It's enough just now to say that the two
Institootions is what I calls brother an' sister--the Lifeboat one bein'
the brother; the Shipwrecked Mariners' one bein' the sister. The
brother, besides savin' thousands o' pounds worth o' goods, saves
hundreds o' lives every year. But when the brother has saved the
shipwrecked sailor, his work is done. He hands him over to the sister,
who clothes him, feeds him, warms him--as you see bein' done to them
there Roosians--and then sends him home. Every sailor in the country
should be a member o' the Shipwrecked Mariners' Society, say I. I've
been one myself for many years, an' it only costs me three shillings a
year. I'll tell 'ee some other time what good it does me; but just now
you an' I shall go an' have some grub."
"Where shall we go to get it, father?"
"To the refreshment room below, lass. It won't do to take ye to the
dinin' hall o' the Home for three reasons,--first, 'cause ye're a
'ooman, an' they ain't admitted; second, 'cause it wouldn't be pleasant
for ye to dine wi' forty or fifty Jack-tars; and, thirdly, if ye wanted
it ever so much yer old father wouldn't let ye--so come along, lass, to
dinner."