SEA-SIDE SPORTS--TOBY TUBB'S NAVAL YARN--A PIC-NIC, AND WHAT OCCURRED AT
IT.
"You must come and stay with us when we settle," said Arthur Haviland to
Digby, the morning on which the former, with his father, was to take his
departure from Mr Nugent's. "I am to go to school, but papa intends to
take a house to receive me in the holidays, when we shall expect you,
and then I will tell you more about the Brazils, and the wonders of
other parts of South America."
Digby replied that if he could get leave he should be delighted to
accept the invitation for a part of the holidays. "I tell you that I
should not like to be away the whole time: I could not miss seeing my
dear little sister Kate, and Gusty and the rest at home, on any account.
I don't fancy that I should like to be anywhere so much as at home.
Oh, it is such a dear, jolly place. You must come to my home, Arthur,
some day, and then you'll see that I am right." Such were the terms on
which Digby and Arthur Haviland parted.
Digby felt very sorry and quite out of spirits when his new friend had
gone. He liked Marshall, and Eastern, and Power, indeed all his
companions, very much, but there was something so gentle, and amiable,
and intelligent about Arthur; in many respects he was so different to
himself, that he had been insensibly attracted towards him. He had been
the means of saving Arthur's life, too, and though his friend was so
much older than himself, he ought to be his protector and guardian. "I
wish that we had been going to the same school," he said to himself;
"Arthur is just the sort of fellow the boys will be apt to bully. How
Julian would sneer at him and tease him. Even Power and Easton couldn't
help now and then having a laugh at his notions. How I should like to
stand up for him, and fight his battles. I'm not very big, but I would
not mind a thrashing for his sake."
The summer was drawing to a conclusion, but still the weather was very
warm. One evening Mr Nugent had been called out to visit a sick
person. On his return he invited his pupils to accompany him to the
beach.
"I have seldom seen the water so beautifully luminous as it is
to-night," he observed. "Bring two wide-mouthed bottles, my
naturalist's water nets, and a long pole, and we will go and fish for
night shiners."
Digby was puzzled to know what his uncle meant. The nets which Marshall
produced were in shape like a landing-net, but smaller and lighter--fine
gauze being used instead of the twine net. It was a dark night, and the
party stumbled along over the not very well-paved streets of the little
town till they reached the water. Great was Digby's surprise to see the
whole ocean covered with glowing flashes; while, as the gently rippling
wavelets came rolling in, a line of light was playing over them, and as
they reached the shore it broke into still greater brilliancy, leaving,
as they retired, thousands of shining sparkles glittering on the smooth
beach.
"What is it?" he exclaimed, after gazing for some time in mute
astonishment. "What has come over the ocean?"
"A mass of phosphorescent creatures," answered his uncle. "We will go
to the deep pool (this was a quiet little bay close at hand). We shall
then be able to fish up a supply for examination."
On reaching the pool all at first appeared dark, but Mr Nugent and
Marshall stooping down, swept the surface with their nets, when wherever
they touched the water, it glowed with the most brilliant flashes.
Having filled the bottles, they lifted the water up in the nets, when it
looked as if they had got in them a lump of the most glittering gold, or
a mass of molten lead. A still more beautiful appearance was produced
when they threw the water up in the air and it came down in glittering
showers, like the dropping stars from a firework.
"Glorious! beautiful!" shouted Digby; "I did not think the sea could
produce anything so fine."
Then they stirred the water about with a long pole, till the whole pool,
which had been in tranquillity so dark, became like a caldron of boiling
metal. After amusing themselves with the variety of effects to be
produced, the party returned homeward.
"What is the use of all that shining stuff, now, I wonder?" said Digby.
"I am glad to hear you ask the question," replied his uncle. "That
shining stuff is called the phosphorescence of the ocean. It is
composed of numberless minute animals, each not larger than a pin's
head. Through a microscope we should see that all parts of the animal
shine, but at different times. It emits, as it were, sparks, now from
one part of its body, now from another. It is a very beautiful object,
especially in southern latitudes, and that alone may account for its
creation; just as birds with gay plumage, and flowers of varied hues and
sweet scents, were formed for the benefit of man. It wonderfully
relieves, also, on a dark night, the obscurity of the ocean, and its
light is so great during storms that it enables seamen the better to
perform the duties of the ship. Of one thing you may be certain, that
nothing is created in nature without a very adequate object."
On reaching home, Mr Nugent got out his microscope, and exhibited to
Digby the wonders of the creatures they had caught. Power had also
brought home a bucketful of water. It contained, among other creatures,
a little melon-shaped animal, which Mr Nugent turned into a glass
tumbler. It was smaller than a small hazel nut, of a transparent
consistency, and with bands down it like the divisions in a melon.
These bands, when the tumbler was shaded, glittered in the most
beautiful way, while the creature moved about in the water, now rising
to the surface, and now sinking almost to the bottom. When again
brought to the light, it was seen putting forth what Digby called its
fishing lines. These, when it was on the surface, reached to the
bottom, and were evidently employed for the object Digby supposed.
"This beautiful little creature is called a Cydippe or Beroe," observed
Mr Nugent. "Those bands are denominated cilia. See, they are like
little paddles. They are the means by which the animal moves. Now
look--he has turned his head down, and away he plunges to the bottom;
now he rises slowly, like a balloon. I doubt not that there is much
enjoyment even in that little mass of jelly. Wonderful are all God's
works. Who can measure the happiness which exists even in an atom."
Digby became far more interested than, a few weeks before, he would have
thought possible. At the same time he did not take in all the remarks
his uncle and Marshall made. He would have found it impossible to
describe the curious marine animals they showed him. At the same time
the impression left on his mind was beneficial, as he in that way
learned to comprehend the fact of the existence of the numberless
wonders of nature, and to regard them with interest and respect.
Although he could not manage to recollect a single one of the hard names
he heard, he surely was better off than a person who remains ignorant
that even such things exist.
The day after the Noctilucae had exhibited their brightness on the sea
in so remarkable a degree, a heavy gale sprung up and blew on the shore
for some hours with great violence.
"I hope no other shipwreck happened last night," said Digby, as they got
up in the morning.
"I hope not," answered Marshall. "We should have heard of it before
this. But if you will come down with me to the beach, by and by, we
shall find that other floating things have been wrecked, and that the
sea has cast them up in great numbers on the shore."
As soon as lessons were over the boys set out. Digby was now quite
eager for anything of the sort. They had not gone far along the beach
when Marshall pounced on a dark-looking mass, which he put into his jar.
"What nasty thing is that?" exclaimed Digby, looking at it with disgust.
"Nasty! no; it is a magnificent Holothuria, or sea-cucumber. Toby would
call it a sea-pudding. It will look very different when it is in my
vivarium, let me tell you. It now looks like a great bag, but the
outside of that bag is covered with numbers of suckers, by which it is
able to crawl about at a rapid rate; while in the inside are its head
and intestines, and all its fishing apparatus."
"I should like to see it in full action," said Digby. "But I say,
Marshall, what are all those lumps of jelly? Are they good to eat?
They look as if they would be, boiled a little, perhaps."
Marshall laughed heartily. "I doubt if even the Chinese attempt to eat
them. If they do, they must eat them raw, for even in the air they very
soon dissolve. Those are Medusae, or jelly-fish, or sea-nettles. The
first English name they obtain from their appearance, the second on
account of the property they possess of stinging; and that you would
soon discover if, when you were bathing, one of them got his long arms
round you."
"Arms, surely they have not got arms?" said Digby.
"Indeed they have, and very long arms, too, with which they can catch
all sorts of prey. They have mouths and all internal arrangements, and,
soft and gelatinous as they appear, they can consume animals of a much
higher organisation than themselves. You would not suppose that they
could gobble up crabs, yet they can do so without the slightest
difficulty. They have also the property of giving forth light. You may
see them by thousands floating about near the surface of the water, in
shape like small umbrellas, and moving up and down just as if a heart
beat beneath. You will find them often in the river when the flood-tide
is coming in; and when we go on our trawling expedition we shall see
numbers of them."
Digby, notwithstanding what Marshall had told him, had not quite made up
his mind about them; and as he had brought a basket in which to carry
curiosities, he put several of them into it.
"Ah, here are some of the things I admire," exclaimed Digby, picking up
a star-fish. "They are curious."
"Not more so than many others," answered Marshall. "Yet I agree with
you, that they are very curious indeed. You would not suppose that they
can crawl along at the bottom of the sea at a considerable rate, and
that they are the most voracious of marine animals. They have a big
mouth in the centre of the lower side; and those star-like arms supply
them with food. They progress by means of suckers, with which the whole
of the lower part of their bodies is covered. They are the scavengers
of the ocean; and it is wonderful the amount of animal food they can
consume, which would otherwise tend to putrefy the ocean itself.
Another curious circumstance about them is, that when one or more of
their rays are broken off, fresh ones are produced; indeed, I have seen
it stated in print that a single ray has produced the mouth and the
other rays, and then that the old ray has fallen off, and that a new
star-fish, in its perfect proportions, has been thus reformed."
"I dare say what you tell me is all true," said Digby; "but it is very
hard to believe."
"I am only telling you what I have heard from others, though I have
observed some of the facts myself," answered Marshall. "See, now; what
do you call that?" he added, holding up a very perfect Echinus.
"A sea-egg, of course," answered Digby. "But I own that it has always
puzzled me how any fish can manage to lay an egg covered with spines."
"It is not an egg at all; it is much more properly called a sea-urchin
or a sea-hedgehog. It is allied to the star-fish. By means of these
spines it can move about with great ease; they serve also as its
protection. The covering is most curious: it is composed of several
hundred pentagonal plates. By a process going on continually from the
inside, each one of these plates is enlarged by a fresh deposit; and
thus, without altering their shape, the animal, as it grows, has its
coat of armour growing also."
"Well, Marshall, I must say that you spin wonderful yarns, as Toby Tubb
would say, about all these things. I suppose that they are all true;
but they do sometimes make me open my eyes."
"Depend on it they are all true. Mr Nugent can tell still more
wonderful ones," answered Marshall. "The more we examine the
productions of nature the more wonderful things we shall discover.
There is no doubt, also, that--"
"I dare say not," said Digby, yawning. "But do you know, Marshall,
that, somehow or other, I would rather sometimes hear old Toby spin one
of his yarns than listen to my uncle's lectures on natural history.
They are all very well in their way when one is in the humour for them,
but, just now, I am rather inclined for a brisk walk; and, thinking of
Toby, I say, I wish that we could get him to tell us how the ship he was
on board of attacked I don't know how many Frenchmen, or some other of
our enemies, and took one of them in sight of their own port. He was
telling Easton all about it one day. Perhaps he will not feel inclined
to tell it again."
Marshall laughed at the idea of an old sailor _not_ liking to spin a
yarn a second time, when the chances were in favour of his having
already spun it many hundred times. He took the hint, also, about the
lectures on natural history, and said nothing more to Digby on the
subject. He well knew that if he was to attempt to cram it down his
throat, Digby would be very likely to take a disgust to it, and
obstinately set his face against all branches of natural history. He
promised, moreover, to try and get Toby to spin the yarn in which Easton
had been so much interested.
The next Saturday half-holiday was very lovely, and all Mr Nugent's
pupils agreed to make a boating excursion up the river as far as they
could go, and to dine in pic-nic fashion at the end of the voyage.
"We must try and get Toby Tubb to spin his yarn," observed Digby, as
they were starting.
Mrs Nugent had supplied them with some cold provisions; and they took
potatoes to cook, and tea and sugar; and they hoped to catch some fish,
which would be a great addition to their fare. However, they were
fortunately independent of the fish, which sometimes obstinately refuse
to be caught.
Power, however, who had great confidence in his own success as a
fisherman, wanted the rest to leave a cold veal pie behind, assuring
them that he would take care that they had an ample supply of
salmon-peel, and bass, and flounders, which he promised to catch and
cook for them.
"That is all very well," said Marshall; "but I vote that we take the
pie, and then we can be eating that while Power is dining on the fish
which he has not yet caught."
"Now, do you, Toby, take the helm, and we will row," said Marshall,
seating himself ready to pull the stroke oar.
Digby jumped in next him, for he knew that he was about to fulfil his
promise, to get Toby to spin a yarn.
All took their seats, up went the oars. "Give way!" sung out Toby. The
oars came with a simultaneous flop into the water, and the young crew
bending to them, the boat glided swiftly and steadily over the smooth
surface. The scenery for some distance was very beautiful: there were
high cliffs, broken and fantastic in shape, with here and there openings
through which green fields, and woods, and cottages could be seen, and
deep bays and inlets, and, further off, downs, or heather land, on which
sheep or cattle were feeding. The sky was blue, the air was fresh and
pure; all were enjoying themselves, though they could not perhaps tell
why.
"Try old Toby now," whispered Digby into Marshall's ear.
Marshall began in a diplomatic way. "Now, Toby," he said, "while we are
pulling and cannot talk much, it seems a pity that you should not be
telling us something we should like to hear. You have been in a battle
or two, I dare say; perhaps fought with double your numbers, and came
off victorious, as I have heard of British seamen doing more than once."
"I believe you, Master Marshall," interrupted Toby. "I have been in a
battle when we had three to one against us, and still we thrashed them.
I'll tell you how it was. I belonged, in those days, to the _Spartan_,
a smart frigate of thirty-eight guns, and a first-rate dashing officer,
Captain Jahleel Brenton, commanded her. We were in the Mediterranean in
the year 1810. Many were the things we did which we had a right to talk
about. It was about the end of April we were cruising in company with
the _Success_ frigate, Captain Mitford, and the sloop _Espoir_, when,
standing in for the Castle of Terrecino, on the Italian coast, we made
out a ship, three barques, and several feluccas, at anchor under shelter
of the guns of that fort. Our captain, as soon as he saw them,
determined to have them; so as he was commodore, do you see, he ordered
away the boats of the squadron to cut them out. I was not a little
pleased to find myself in one of the _Spartan's_ boats. The whole
expedition was commanded by Lieutenant Baumgart, of the _Spartan_; and
we had with us another brave officer, Lieutenant George Sartorius, of
the _Sirius_.
"We rendezvoused on board the _Spartan_, and soon after noon pulled in
for the castle, covered by the fire of the squadron, which opened a
brisk cannonade on the town and batteries. The enemy were not idle, and
the shot were flying pretty thick about us, but that did not stop our
way.
"`There's the ship, my boys, and we must have her, and the barques too,
if we can,' sung out our lieutenant; and on we dashed, with a loud
cheer, towards her.
"Round-shot and bullets came rattling about our heads, but they didn't
stop our way more than would a shower of hail. Away we pulled, maybe a
bit faster, to get through them the quicker. In a quarter less no time
we were alongside the ship, which mounted six guns, scrambling up her
sides, knocking everybody who opposed us on the head--not that all
stopped for that, seeing that many leaped into their boats as soon as we
gained the deck, and pulled away for the shore. The rest, however, made
a tough fight of it before they knocked under. To cut the cables and to
let fall the topsails and sheet home was the work of a few moments only,
and we were under weigh almost before the enemy had turned the guns of
the castle on us.
"The other boats, meantime, divided the barques among them, and,
attacking them altogether, drove their crews into the water, and,
cutting their cables, made sail after us. We lost only one man killed
and two wounded in the whole affair, and carried all four vessels off in
safety.
"That's what we call a cutting-out expedition. There's nothing we used
to like better. They were generally pretty sharp slap-dash affairs; no
shilly-shallying, and counting what was dangerous and what was not; but
it was pull in, jump aboard, and we were out again with the prizes
before the enemy had time to find out what we were about. But that
wasn't what I was going to tell you about.
"Soon after this, our squadron was cruising off the Bay of Naples--not
all, by the by, the Espoir had been sent away somewhere, and we had only
the _Spartan_, that was our ship, and the Success. Well, we made out,
under weigh in the Bay, two ships, a brig and a cutter. Not many
moments had gone by before we had crowded all sail in chase. It was a
French squadron we saw, but they didn't like our looks, so they put
about and stood towards Naples, we following them almost up to the Mole.
That was on the first of May. The next morning at daylight we saw our
friends at anchor, but they seemed in no way inclined to come out and
fight us.
"`Perhaps if they see one of us alone they may come out and take a taste
of our quality,' says our captain; so he sent off the Success to wait
for us about eight leagues from the island of Capri, thinking that the
Frenchmen would then, without doubt, venture out to attack us.
"In the meantime, the French General who had command at Naples, Prince
Murat, had formed a plan to capture us. His French squadron consisted
of a 42-gun frigate, the _Ceres_; a 28-gun corvette, the _Fama_; an
8-gun brig, the _Sparviere_; and a cutter, mounting 10 guns; but besides
these there were seven gunboats at least, each with one long 18-pounder
and 40 men. General Murat had also embarked four hundred Swiss troops
on board the ships, so that they had altogether 95 guns and 1,400 men,
while we had only 38 guns and about 260 men. [Note.] We didn't mind
the odds against us, all we thought of was how we could take the enemy.
They made sure, however, it seems, with the great odds in their favour,
on the other hand, do ye see, of taking us; but we sung, with some right
to sing it, too:--
"Hearts of oak are our ships,
Jolly tars are our men;
We always are ready,
Then steady, boys, steady,
We'll fight, and we'll conquer again and again."
"All we were anxious for was the moment to begin. At last, before
sunrise, on the third day after we had first made them out, which, do
you see, was the 3rd of May, 1810, we got a slant of wind from the
South-east, though it was very light, and we, being well to the
southward, stood under easy sail into the Bay of Naples.
"Well, we were keeping a bright look-out for the enemy, and just at
daybreak we made them out about six miles ahead, standing out from the
Mole of Naples, and just between the island of Capri and the mainland.
We were on the starboard tack, and they were on the larboard, or what we
now call the port tack, remember."
"What do you mean by the starboard and port tacks?" asked Digby, who was
much interested in the details of the account, and wanted to understand
it.
"Why, you see, the two lower corners of square sails have ropes to them
called tacks and sheets. The tacks haul the corners of the sail down to
the fore part of the ship, and the sheets to the after part. If the
tack is hauled down on the starboard side, the sheet is of course on the
other side, or to leeward, and the ship is then said to be on the
starboard tack. So you'll know if the wind strikes the starboard side,
the ship is on the starboard tack, or, if it comes on the other side,
she's on the port or larboard tack."
"Thank you," answered Digby; "I know now, I think. But go on; it's very
interesting."
"I vote that no one interrupts to ask questions," exclaimed Power.
"When the story is done we'll all fire away as much as we like. Won't
that be best, Toby?"
Toby seemed to be of Power's opinion, so the motion was agreed to _nem
con_.
"Where was we?" began Toby, having been slightly put out, as even the
best story-tellers are when interrupted. "Let's see. Oh, I know,
standing in towards the Bay of Naples, to meet the French squadron. We
were on the starboard tack; they were on the opposite one. There's a
picture been done of the fight. It always does my old heart good to
look at it; because, do ye see, it's not like some pictures of battles--
it's true. An officer, an old shipmate, gave it me, and so I had it put
in a frame, with a glass over it, and hung up in my cottage.
"There we were, do ye see, the three French ships and we, drawing nearer
and nearer to each other on opposite tacks. The Frenchmen followed each
other in line, the _Ceres_ leading, followed by the _Fama_ and
_Sparviere_, with the wind abeam. Instead, however, of keeping close
together, as they ought to have done, they were some distance from each
other. The light wind was thus all in our favour, as I'll make you
understand. At last the _Ceres_ clewed up her courses, and we did the
same, and right glad we were to do it.
"Now, remember, that the Frenchman's decks were crowded with troops,
poor Swiss fellows, who had no wish naturally to hurt us any more than
we had to hurt them.
"`Now, lads, all hands lie down at their quarters. We shall be having a
pretty hot shower of musketry among us before many minutes are over, and
it will be just as well to let it pass over our heads,' sung out our
captain. All the time, though, he did not lie down, nor did some of the
officers; but of course all the people did as they were ordered, except
the men at the helm. It was close upon eight o'clock, when we were
within pistol-shot of the _Ceres_, that she opened her fire on us.
Still we lay quiet. Now, do ye see, all our guns on the main deck were
treble shotted.
"Our captain calmly waited, eyeing the enemy till every one of our guns
bore on him. `Up, boys, and fire away!' he shouted. Didn't we just
spring to our feet and blaze away like fury. What shrieks and cries
rose from the Frenchman's decks. Our shot mowed down the troops like
corn-stalks before the sickle, besides killing numbers of the crew. The
soldiers were drawn up all ready for boarding, but our captain was too
wise to let them do that. As we were going little more than two knots
through the water, we had plenty of time to load again, and to give the
second Frenchman, the _Fama_, the same taste of our quality. Numbers
were killed and wounded aboard her, and then, loading once more, we
continued our course and fired into the brig. We had still the gunboats
to talk to. They were not to be despised, and, as it proved, they were
the worst enemies we had. As we approached them we fired our headmost
starboard guns at them, and then, going about, let fly our whole
larboard broadside, which we had again got ready for their amusement.
They returned it with interest, though, and we lost many men from the
shot of their long guns, while most of our masts and spars were likewise
wounded. As we went about our starboard broadside was not idle, and we
kept peppering away at the brigs and the two ships ahead of us. Well,
the French commodore ought to have steered for the gunboats, but instead
of that he wore round and stood away for Baia, on the north side of the
Bay, where there were some batteries. We wore after him. Our captain
had taken his stand on the capstan head, that he might have a clear view
of everything, and a fine sight it was to see him standing up there
undaunted, while the round-shot and musket-balls were flying thick
around his head. `Ay, he's the right sort of stuff, that skipper of
ours,' said my messmate, Bill Simmonds. `If we don't take one or more
of those Frenchmen I'm very much mistaken.' After we had got up to the
gunboats, and a large cutter there was among them, and hammered away at
them, the breeze fell, and left us surrounded with enemies. The _Ceres_
lay ahead, with her starboard broadside turned towards us; and we had on
our port bow the corvette and brig, while the cutter and gunboats came
sweeping up astern, and pounding us pretty severely with their long
eighteen-pounders. In spite of our first success, it seemed just then
as if matters would go very hard with us. What was our sorrow, too, to
see our brave captain knocked off his post badly wounded. He was
carried below, for a grape-shot had hit him in the hip. Our first
lieutenant, Mr Willes, then took the command. How we did whistle for a
wind. Scarcely was our brave captain carried below before a light
breeze sprung up: and I can't tell you how our hearts beat with joy when
we found ourselves once more drawing near the French frigate. There we
soon were, on her starboard quarter, and on the starboard bow of the
corvette, so that our guns were able almost to rake them both at the
same time. We had, however, the brig peppering away at us on our
larboard quarter, while the cutter and gunboats, some of which were
astern and others on the starboard quarter, kept up a hot fire at us all
the time. The enemy, it seemed, however, had no wish to continue at
such close quarters, for as soon as the frigate's sails felt the breeze,
away she ran as fast as her legs could carry her, till she got under the
shelter of the batteries of Baia. We should have followed her, but our
rigging and sails had been so knocked about and riddled with shot that
for the best of all reasons we didn't--because we couldn't. We managed
to wear, however, and gave the frigate and corvette a parting benefit,
raking them fore and aft with our starboard guns, and knocking away the
corvette's foretopmast. At the same time we poured our whole larboard
broadside into the brig. Hearty was the shout raised aboard us, when
down came her main-topmast, and, lowering her colours, she sung out for
mercy, lest we should give her a second dose of the same character.
Dropping a boat to take possession, we stood after the corvette, and
should have taken her, but the gunboats came up with their long sweeps,
and, in spite of a pretty severe fire we kept up at them, towed her in a
very spirited way out of action. As I was saying, we couldn't then
follow, or we'd have had her also, at least. Perhaps we might have had
the frigate, too. We hadn't given up all hopes of another prize, and
with a hearty good will we set to work to repair damages. We had
altogether been rather more than two hours pretty closely engaged with
the enemy. We'd lost by this time ten killed and twenty-two wounded.
Both our captain and first lieutenant were very severely hurt. When the
French frigate saw that we could not get up to her, she sneaked away
from Baia and stood back towards Naples. By the time we were put
somewhat to rights the sea-breeze set in, and so our captain ordered the
prize to be taken in tow, and away we stood, passing just in front of
Naples, before which the rest of the enemy had just dropped their
anchors. Whether they thought that we were going to fetch any of them
out I don't know. We heard afterwards that the French General, Prince
Murat, who called himself King of Naples, was watching all the time,
expecting to see his frigate tow us in; and you may be sure that he was
in a pretty great rage when he saw us carry off one of his ships
instead, as our prize, before his very nose. I've heard since that the
French, to excuse themselves, declared that our frigate was a _rase_, or
cut-down ship, and that we carried fifty heavy guns. You may read of
many gallant actions, young gentlemen, but I don't believe that you'll
ever hear tell of one better-fought battle. It showed the Frenchmen the
stuff we were made of, though they'd found that out pretty often before.
There's one thing you may depend on,--every victory gained helps to win
another. The enemy can't help expecting to be beaten, and you feel that
you've a fair prospect of winning the day. It's just the same thing,
take an old man's word for it, when you've got to fight with bad habits,
or vices, or sin of any sort, evil tempers, and evil propensities. Gain
one victory. Learn that you can conquer the foe, and the next time you
try you'll find that he gives way more easily than at first; but, if you
let him gain the victory, why 'tis you will go to the wall, faster and
faster each time, till he knocks you down altogether. But I was telling
you how the gallant _Spartan_ captured the _Sparviere_; and don't forget
to come and see the picture, which 'll show you all about it."
The boys thanked Toby for his story, and all promised that they would go
and pay him a visit, and see the prints of the battle. I need not
repeat all the questions they asked him about it; how he liked having
the shot flying about his head, and seeing his shipmates knocked over
near him, and all that sort of thing.
"As to the first, young gentlemen," he answered, "I can't say as how I
ever thought much about it; and as to the second, a man before he goes
into battle knows that it may be his lot, and so he makes up his mind to
it. When a man makes up his mind to a thing it is much easier to bear
it, let me tell you. Besides, very few men, when they once begin to
fight, think about anything else but the fighting."
The conversation to which Toby's history led lasted the party till they
reached the place at which they intended to pic-nic. It had been
selected not so much because of its peculiar beauty, as on account of
the good fishing which Power expected to get there. He talked of
salmon-peel, and basse, and flounders, and plaice, all of which come up
salt-water rivers, and often venture into brackish waters. Power at
once set off to the spot where he intended to fish: it was on a bank
just below a mill-dam. The salt-water flowed in with the flood-tide,
and when the ebb made a strong current run out, which always kept open a
deep channel. Some shade-giving trees grew about, the turf was soft and
green, and, at a little distance, the cliffs turned inland, and formed a
ravine, in which stood the mill and the mill pond. Marshall and Easton
went off to botanise, and to search in the cliffs for geological
specimens and other subjects of natural history; while Digby and two
other boys accompanied Power with their rods. Ten minutes passed, and
all except Power began to make signs to each other expressive of
increasing hunger; but no sign was there of a fish.
"Hurra!" he at last exclaimed; "I have a bite; I knew I should." His
float began to bob, and away it went down the stream. He gave his rod a
jerk. "I have him fast enough," he exclaimed. High he lifted his rod,
and up came a fish--but such a fish--a little, ugly, big-headed,
flat-snouted monster.
"A miller's thumb!--a miller's thumb!" shouted the party, laughing
heartily. "What a fine dinner he will make for us," cried one. "I hope
you'll let us have something else, Power," said Digby.
"Not unless you will all hold your tongues, and let me try again, for I
don't think any of you will catch anything," said Power.
Just then Toby arrived, with a stick and line. He held up the poor
bull-head with a comical look, and pretended to let it drop down his
throat--a proceeding which he would have found very unpleasant as
besides its large head its back was armed with a row of sharp spines.
"We call this a sea-scorpion, or sea-toad, and some call it a
father-lasher, because he is supposed to be so wicked that he would beat
even his own father," said Toby, putting back the fish with a pretence
of the greatest care into the basket. "Now, young gentlemen, I'll see
what I can do for the pot; it's on, and boiling, and only wants
something put into it. I'll make you some pebble-soup if we don't catch
any fish; but the fish will be best, I think." Toby, on this, went a
little lower down the creek, and taking his seat on the bank, let his
line drop into the water, throwing in, every now and then, some ground
bait. Before long, he pulled out a shining silvery little fish, of most
graceful form; another and another followed in rapid succession.
Digby, who had caught nothing, went up to him. "Why, Toby, what are
those pretty little fish? I should like to have some of them," he
observed. "How do you catch them?"
"I'll show you if you'll sit down and try," answered Toby. "You've
caught no fish because you've been wandering about from place to place,
and not taking advantage of the experience you have got with your first
trials. If one depth won't do, raise or lower your float; if one bait
don't do, try another; and the same with your hook, if you find that you
get bites and don't catch anything. Perseverance is the thing. I
generally can tell how a lad is likely to get on in life by the way I
see him fish. You'll excuse my freedom, Master Digby; I like to say
what I think will be likely to be useful to you."
Digby thanked Toby, though he did not quite see the drift of his
reasoning. He, however, put on a very small hook, and watched how he
caught the smelts; and, in a short time, he had pulled up nearly a
dozen. He might have captured more, but turning his head up the stream
he saw that Power was hauling some big fish out of the water, and he
could not resist the temptation of running off to see what it was.
"Help! help! Here, the landing-net, the landing-net," shouted Power.
"I've a conger, a conger; there's no doubt about it."
The conger-eel, which occasionally comes up salt-water rivers, is a
ferocious fish, with powerful jaws. This was of good size, and
struggled so violently, that Digby was afraid of losing hook, and net,
and line. The other young fishermen had gone to a little distance, and
were busily engaged in hauling in some captives which their skill had
taken. Digby, in his eagerness, leaned over so far with the net that,
just as he had got the conger into it, he lost his balance, and in he
went heels over head. Power nearly followed. The conger got entangled
in the net; and Digby's first impulse, as his head came above water, was
to grapple hold of the fish. This he did most effectually, and a
tremendous struggle commenced; the conger trying to bite Digby, and
Digby determined not to let him go. Power's feelings were divided
between his anxiety for Digby's safety and his wish not to lose his
captive. His shouts called Marshall and Easton, who were not far off.
"Haul him out, haul him out!" he cried, lustily. "He'll make a
magnificent dish."
"Which?" asked Marshall, laughing, "Digby or the fish?"
"Digby, Digby," answered Power, really thinking that he was in danger.
"No, no," cried Digby, "I won't be cooked. Get out the fish first.
He's half mine, though, for I helped to catch him."
The conger was wriggling about all the time, and Power was making every
effort to keep his head away from Digby, whom the fish had apparently a
strong wish to bite. Between all parties there was a tremendous amount
of laughing, and shouting, and splashing. At last Marshall got hold of
Digby's collar, and out he pulled him, still grasping the net and the
fish.
"Don't let us go till you have got us well up from the water," exclaimed
Digby, panting with his exertions. "If you do, the beast may be getting
away, and escape us after all."
His caution was not unnecessary, for, breaking from the hook, no sooner
was Digby's grasp off him than away he wriggled at a great rate towards
the water. It was no easy matter to catch him, for he turned round with
his savage head and made desperate bites at the lads, who were in hot
pursuit of him.
"Oh, stop him!" shouted Digby, almost crying in his agitation. "Oh,
he'll be off,--he'll be off!"
Nearer and nearer the water he wriggled; with a hook in his mouth, and
the mauling he had got, he was not likely to find much pleasure in his
future career; still, life is dear even to fish. He was almost at the
edge of the bank, when Marshall seizing his geological hammer, which he
had thrown down to help Digby, with it dealt the poor conger such a blow
on the tail that in an instant it was paralysed, and though its jaws
moved a little, it no longer made an attempt to reach its native
element.
It was now voted that dinner-time had arrived, or rather that it was
time to begin cooking the fish. Altogether a very good supply had been
caught: besides the smelt, Toby brought two grey mullets, a foot in
length; these, he said, were rarely caught with the hook, as they suck
in their food. They do not often eat living creatures, but grub down at
the bottom for offal or weeds. It is a very sagacious fish, and, when
enclosed by a net, always makes the greatest efforts to escape by
leaping over it, or by seeking for some opening. Only a very perfect
net will secure them. In some parts the fishermen form an inner line of
straw, or corks, and the mullets leaping over it, and finding themselves
still enclosed, do not make a second attempt till there is time to draw
them to the shore.
Power had done even more than he had promised, for he had caught a
salmon-peel and three or four flounders, besides his conger; while the
rest of the party, who had gone to another spot, had caught some basse,
and some plaice, and other flat fish. The basse is like a freshwater
perch in some respects, but it is not so rounded, nor has it the bright
colours of the perch. The plaice and flounders were not very large.
"What funny twisted-head fellows they are," observed Digby, as he handed
them to Toby to clean. "Well, it never did occur to me before I came
here what a vast number of curious animals of all sorts live in the
sea."
"I believe, if people would look for them, they'd find as many in the
sea as on land," answered Toby. "Some of them are wonderful curious.
Just think of a big whale, and then of a little shrimp; and there are
thousands of things smaller than shrimps which live in the sea, and
quite as curious."
What a frying, and broiling, and boiling of fish took place; everybody
was busy. Digby wanted, by the by, to remain in his wet clothes, but
Toby would not let him, but made him strip, and then hung them up on the
black rock, against which the sun was striking with full force. Here
they quickly dried, while he sat near the fire, the butt for his
companions' jokes.
"Arrah, now," exclaimed Power, "would Mr and Mrs Heathcote ever
mistake you for their own eldest son and heir of all their virtues and
estates, if they were to come by and see you sitting for all the world
like a little Irish spalpeen or a gipsy boy, before his camp fire,
gutting fish?"
"It's hard, Power, after I helped you to save the conger, to laugh at
me," said Digby. "He'll stick in your throat, depend on it."
Had Digby seen himself in a glass he might have learnt one important
lesson, and discovered how very slight a difference there was between
him and the characters Power described.
The cooking part of the pic-nic was very amusing, but the eating the
provisions was still pleasanter. Jokes and laughter ran high, and old
Toby told them some more of his stories, of which I have no record.
Altogether, they all agreed that they never had passed a pleasanter or
more amusing day. They had saved a very nice dish of fish for Mrs
Nugent; and in the cool of the evening they once more embarked, and
pulled back to Osberton.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note. I have no doubt that old Toby's account is perfectly correct,
because it agrees with one just narrated to me by Admiral Saumarez, who
was a midshipman on board the _Spartan_. He was showing me some prints
of the action--one of the most spirited on record, and seldom has an
account of a sea fight been told me in a more graphic way. Toby's
narrative scarcely comes up to it, I fear.