The Crew of the Water Wagtail, R. M. Ballantyne [books to improve english .TXT] 📗
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «The Crew of the Water Wagtail, R. M. Ballantyne [books to improve english .TXT] 📗». Author R. M. Ballantyne
“No, I never did, Olly. She said she had lived with a family named Tyndale before she came to us, poor thing! She was an amazin’ clever girl to teach, and made your mother good at it in a wonderful short time. She tried me too, but it was of no use, I was too tough an’ old!”
“Just so, Master Trench,” rejoined Paul. “Hutchins’ real name was Tyndale, and he had resumed the name before Lucy Wentworth went to live with the family. So, you see, Olly, you are indebted, in a roundabout way, as I said, to the Tyndales for your mother’s letter. William will make his mark pretty deeply on the generation, I think, if God spares him.”
Little did Paul Burns think, when he made this prophetic speech by the camp-fire on that distant isle of the sea, that, even while he spoke William Tyndale was laying the foundation of that minute knowledge of the Greek and Hebrew languages, which afterwards enabled him to give the Bible to England in her own tongue, and that so ably translated, that, after numerous revisions by the most capable of scholars, large portions of his work remain unaltered at the present day.
The night was far spent, and the other members of the camp had been long buried in slumber before Paul and Trench and Oliver could tear themselves away from the manuscript Gospel of John. The latter two, who knew comparatively little of its contents, were at first impressed chiefly with the fact that they were examining that rare and costly article—a book, and a forbidden book, too, for the reading of which many a man and woman had been burned to death in times past—but they became still more deeply impressed as Paul went on reading and commenting and pointing out the value of the Book as God’s own “Word” to fallen man.
“Here is a promise to rest upon,” said Paul, as he finally closed the book and repeated the verse from memory, “Jesus said, If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; and ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
“Ay, that’s it, Paul—free! We’re all slaves, more or less, to something or other. What we all want is to be free,” said Master Trench, as he drew his blanket round him, pillowed his head on his cloak, and went to sleep.
Silently Paul and Oliver followed his example, the fires died out, and in a few minutes the slumbering camp was shrouded in the mantle of night.
Energetic action was the order of the next day, for those shipwrecked mariners knew well enough that nothing but hard and steady labour could enable them to live on an apparently desolate island.
By daybreak most of the crew had scattered themselves along the shores, or over the interior, to spy out the land. About two hours later they began to drop into camp as hungry as hawks, each carrying the result of his researches in his arms or on his shoulders.
“Well done, Squill!” said Paul, who chanced to be first back in camp, with a huge sail bundled up on his shoulder, and who, just then, was busy blowing up his fire; “got another barrel of pork, eh?”
“It’s myself as doesn’t know, sur,” answered Squill, “and it wasn’t me as found it, but Jim Heron there. I only helped to sling it on the pole, and shoulder an end. It’s aither pork or gunpowther, so if it ain’t good for a blow out it’ll be good for a blow up, anyhow.”
“Did you see little Oliver anywhere?” asked Paul.
“Ay, sur, I saw him on the shore, bringing up what seemed to me the ship’s bowsprit—anyhow, a spar o’ some sort, about as big as he could haul along.”
“Just so,” returned Paul, with a laugh, “a ridge-pole for our tent. He’s a smart boy, little Olly.”
“Sure he’s all that, sur, and more. Here he comes, blowin’ like a porpoise.”
Sure enough, Oliver appeared at the moment, dragging a heavy spar behind him. Several of the men appeared at the same time, staggering through the bushes, with various loads of wreckage, which they flung down, and noisily began discussing their experiences as they lighted the fires and prepared breakfast.
“Here comes Little Stubbs,” cried Jim Heron. “What fortune, comrade?”
“Good fortune, though my load is the lightest yet brought in.”
He flung down a small piece of wood with an air of satisfaction.
“Why, it’s only a boat’s rudder!” said Oliver.
“Ay, so it is, and the boat lies where I picked it up, but it was too heavy to bring into camp without your assistance, boy. And the best of it is that it’s not much damaged. Very little repair will make her fit for sea again.”
This was indeed a find of immense importance, and the assembled party discussed the event in all its bearings till their mouths were partially stopped by pork and pancakes.
In the midst of this they were interrupted by the arrival of Big Swinton, George Blazer, and Grummidge with another find, which afterwards cost them much trouble and regret—namely, a couple of young lads, natives, whom they led into camp with their wrists tightly bound behind their backs.
The youths who had been captured were simple savages, with very little clothing, and with an expression of considerable alarm on their faces. As was afterwards learned, they had been coasting along the shore of the large neighbouring island in a canoe; had observed the strange fires in the night-time, and had crossed over the channel to see what could be the cause thereof. On reaching the highest part of the island they discovered some of the sailors, and turned to fly to their canoe, but Blazer had observed them, their retreat was cut off, and they were captured—not without a severe struggle, however, in which they were very roughly handled.
Big Swinton, still smarting under the bruises and bites he had received in the scuffle, dragged them forward, and demanded angrily what was to be done to them.
“What have they done?” asked Trench.
“Done!—why, they have kicked and bitten like wildcats, and I doubt not have come over here to see what they can steal. In my opinion a thief deserves keel-hauling at the very least.”
Master Trench’s mouth expanded into a very broad smile as he looked round the group of men. “D’ye hear that, lads, what Master Swinton thinks ought to be done to thieves?”
The men broke into a loud laugh, for even the most obtuse among them could not fail to perceive the humour of the skipper’s look and question.
“You have nothing more to do wi’ the matter, Trench, than any one else has,” returned Swinton. “I claim these lads as my prisoners, and I’ll do with them what I please. No man is master now. Might is right on this island!”
The words had scarcely been uttered when Big Swinton felt his right shoulder grasped as if in a vice, and next moment he was flung violently to the ground, while Paul Burns stood over him with a huge piece of wood in his hand, and a half-stern, half-smiling look on his countenance.
The men were taken completely by surprise, for Paul had, up to this time, shown such a gentle unwarlike spirit that the crew had come to regard him as “a soft lump of a fellow.”
“Big Swinton,” he said, in the mildest of voices, “as you have laid down the law that ‘might is right,’ you cannot, of course, object to my acting on it. In virtue of that law, I claim these prisoners as mine, so you may get up and go about your business. You see, lads,” he added, turning to the men, while Swinton rose and retired, “though I have no wish to domineer over you or to usurp authority. I have a right to claim that my voice shall be heard and my reasons weighed. As Swinton truly remarked, no man is master now, but as he followed this remark by making himself master, and laying down a law for us, I thought it might be complimentary to him just to act, for once, under his law, and show him how well it works! Now, let me have a word with you.
“It is evident that the land over there is peopled with savages who, probably, never saw white men before. If we treat these young fellows kindly, and send them away with gifts in their hands, we shall, no doubt, make friends of the savages. If we treat them ill, or kill them, their relations will come over, mayhap in swarms, and drive us into the sea. I drop the Swinton law of might being right, and ask you who are now the law-makers—which is it to be—kindness or cruelty?”
“Kindness!” shouted by far the greater number of the audience, for even bad men are ready enough to see and admit the beauty of truth and justice when they are not themselves unpleasantly affected by these principles.
The decision being thus made, Paul took the arm of one of the young Indians and led him gently towards his fire, while the men scattered to their several camps. Master Trench led the other youth in the same kindly way, and little Oliver, motioning to them to sit down, set before them two platters of pork and pancakes. This he did with such a benignant smile that the poor youths were obviously relieved from the dread of immediate and personal violence. After some glances of timid uncertainty they began to eat.
“That’s right,” said Oliver, patting the bigger of the two on the shoulder, “you’ll find the victuals pretty good, though you’re not much used to ’em, mayhap.”
Of course the youths did not understand the words, but they understood and fully appreciated the feeling with which they were expressed. They also appreciated most powerfully the viands. At first they were greatly perplexed by the offer of knives and forks; but, after looking at these implements gravely for a few moments, they laid them gently down, and went to work in the natural way with fingers and teeth.
After they had finished the food, and licked the platters clean, they were presented with several bright brass buttons, an old clasp-knife, a comb, and a kerchief or two, with which inestimable gifts they embarked in their canoe, and returned to the opposite shore.
That day a most important discovery was made among the wreckage, namely, a case containing fish-hooks of various sizes and a number of lines. With these, and the boat repaired, Master Trench saw his way to prolonged existence on the island.
“To tell ye the plain truth,” he remarked to Little Stubbs, with whom he fell in while searching on the shore, “before this case of tackle was found, I had no hope at all of surviving here, for a few barrels of pork and flour could not last long among so many, and our end would have bin something awful; but now, with God’s blessing, we may do well enough until we have time to think and plan for our escape.”
“But d’ye think, master,” said Stubbs, “that we shall find fish in them waters?”
“Find ’em! Ay, I make no doubt o’ that, but we shall soon put it to the test, for the boat will be ready by to-morrow or next day at furthest, and then we shall see what the fish hereabouts think o’ salt pork. If they take to it as kindly as the Indians did, we shall soon have grub enough and to spare.”
The natural tendency of man to bow to
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