"I shall be very happy--" began Mrs Grumbit.
"But, Mrs Grumbit, there is a peculiar formation which I require in my socks that will give you extra trouble, I fear; but I must have it, whatever the additional expense may be. What is your charge for the pair you are now making?"
"Three shillings," said Mrs Grumbit.
"Ah! very good. Now, take up the wires if you please, ma"am, and do what I tell you. Now, drop that st.i.tch,--good; and take up this one,-- capital; and pull this one across that way,--so; and that one across this way,--exactly. Now, what is the result?"
The result was a complicated knot; and Mrs Grumbit, after staring a few seconds at the old gentleman in surprise, said so, and begged to know what use it was of.
"Oh, never mind, never mind. We merchants have strange fancies, and foreigners have curious tastes now and then. Please to make all my socks with a hitch like that in them all round, just above the ankle.
It will form an ornamental ring. I"m sorry to put you to the trouble, but of course I pay extra for fancy-work. Will six shillings a-pair do for these?"
"My dear sir," said Mrs Grumbit, "it is no additional--"
"Well, well, never mind," said Mr Jollyboy. "Two thousand pairs, remember, as soon as possible,--close knitted, plain st.i.tch, rather coa.r.s.e worsted; and don"t forget the hitch, Mrs Grumbit, don"t forget the hitch."
Ah! reader, there are many Mrs Grumbits in this world, requiring _hitches_ to be made in their stockings!
At this moment the door burst open. Mrs Dorothy Grumbit uttered a piercing scream, Mr Jollyboy dropped his spectacles and sat down on his hat and Martin Rattler stood before them with the white kitten in his arms.
For a few seconds there was a dead silence, while an expression of puzzled disappointment pa.s.sed over Mr Jollyboy"s ruddy countenance. At last he said--
"Is this, madam, the nephew who, you told me a little ago, is not addicted to fighting?"
"Yes," answered the old lady faintly, and covering her eyes with her hands, "that is Martin."
"If my aunt told you that, sir, she told you the truth," said Martin, setting down the blood-stained white kitten, which forthwith began to stretch its limbs and lick itself dry. "I don"t ever fight if I can help it but I couldn"t help it to-day."
With a great deal of energy, and a revival of much of his former indignation, when he spoke of the kitten"s sufferings, Martin recounted all the circ.u.mstances of the fight; during the recital of which Mrs Dorothy Grumbit took his hand in hers and patted it, gazing the while into his swelled visage, and weeping plentifully, but very silently.
When he had finished, Mr Jollyboy shook hands with him, and said he was a trump, at the same time recommending him to go and wash his face.
Then he whispered a few words in Mrs Grumbit"s ear, which seemed to give that excellent lady much pleasure; after which he endeavoured to straighten his crushed hat; in which attempt he failed, took his leave, promised to call again very soon, and went back to the Old Hulk-- chuckling.
CHAPTER FIVE.
MARTIN, BEING WILLING TO GO TO SEA, GOES TO SEA AGAINST HIS WILL.
Four years rolled away, casting chequered light and shadow over the little village of Ashford in their silent pa.s.sage,--whitening the forelocks of the aged, and strengthening the muscles of the young.
Death, too, touched a hearth here and there, and carried desolation to a home; for four years cannot wing their flight without enforcing on us the lesson--which we are so often taught and yet take so long to learn-- that this is not our rest,--that here we have no abiding city. Did we but ponder this lesson more frequently and earnestly, instead of making us sad, it would nerve our hearts and hands to fight and work more diligently,--to work in the cause of our Redeemer,--the only cause that is worth the life-long energy of immortal beings,--the great cause that includes all others; and it would teach us to remember that our little day of opportunity will soon be spent and that the night is at hand in which no man can work.
Four years rolled away, and during this time Martin, having failed to obtain his aunt"s consent to his going to sea, continued at school, doing his best to curb the roving spirit that strove within him. Martin was not particularly bright at the dead languages; to the rules of grammar he entertained a rooted aversion; and at history he was inclined to yawn, except when it happened to touch upon the names and deeds of such men as Vasco di Gama and Columbus. But in geography he was perfect; and in arithmetic and book-keeping he was quite a proficient, to the delight of Mrs Dorothy Grumbit whose household books he summed up; and to the satisfaction of his fast friend, Mr Arthur Jollyboy, whose ledgers he was--in that old gentleman"s secret resolves--destined to keep.
Martin was now fourteen, broad and strong, and tall for his age. He was the idol of the school,--dashing, daring, reckless, and good-natured.
There was almost nothing that he would not attempt and there were very few things that he could not do. He never fought however--from principle; and his strength and size often saved him from the necessity.
But he often prevented other boys from fighting, except when he thought there was good reason for it; then he stood by and saw fair-play. There was a strange mixture of philosophical gravity, too, in Martin. As he grew older he became more enthusiastic and less boisterous.
Bob Croaker was still at the school, and was, from prudential motives, a fast friend of Martin. But he bore him a secret grudge, for he could not forget the great fight.
One day Bob took Martin by the arm, and said, "I say, Rattler, come with me to Bilton, and have some fun among the shipping."
"Well, I don"t mind if I do," said Martin. "I"m just in the mood for a ramble, and I"m not expected home till bed-time."
In little more than an hour the two boys were wandering about the dock-yards of the sea-port town, and deeply engaged in examining the complicated rigging of the ships. While thus occupied, the clanking of a windla.s.s and the merry, "Yo heave O! and away she goes," of the sailors, attracted their attention.
"Hallo! there goes the Firefly, bound for the South Seas," cried Bob Croaker; "come, let"s see her start. I say, Martin, isn"t your friend, Barney O"Flannagan, on board?"
"Yes, he is. He tries to get me to go out every voyage, and I wish I could. Come quickly; I want to say good-bye to him before he starts."
"Why don"t you run away, Rattler?" inquired Bob, as they hurried round the docks to where the vessel was warping out.
"Because I don"t need to. My aunt has given me leave to go if I like; but she says it would break her heart if I do; and I would rather be screwed down to a desk for ever than do that, Bob Croaker."
The vessel, upon the deck of which the two boys now leaped, was a large, heavy-built barque. Her sails were hanging loose, and the captain was giving orders to the men, who had their attention divided between their duties on board and their mothers, wives, and sisters, who still lingered to take a last farewell.
"Now, then, those who don"t want to go to sea had better go ash.o.r.e,"
roared the captain.
There was an immediate rush to the side.
"I say, Martin," whispered Barney, as he hurried past, "jump down below for"ard; you can go out o" the harbour mouth with us and get ash.o.r.e in one o" the sh.o.r.e-boats alongside. They"ll not cast off till we"re well out. I want to speak to you--"
"Man the fore-top-sail halyards," shouted the first mate.
"Ay ay, sir-r-r," and the men sprang to obey. Just then the ship touched on the bar at the mouth of the harbour, and in another moment she was aground.
"There, now, she"s hard and fast!" roared the captain, as he stormed about the deck in a paroxysm of rage. But man"s rage could avail nothing. They had missed the pa.s.sage by a few feet, and now they had to wait the fall and rise again of the tide ere they could hope to get off.
In the confusion that followed, Bob Croaker suggested that Martin and he should take one of the punts, or small boats which hovered round the vessel, and put out to sea, where they might spend the day pleasantly in rowing and fishing.
"Capital!" exclaimed Martin. "Let"s go at once. Yonder"s a little fellow who will let us have his punt for a few pence. I know him.
Hallo, Tom!"
"Ay, ay," squeaked a boy who was so small that he could scarcely lift the oar, light though it was, with which he sculled his punt cleverly along.
"Shove alongside, like a good fellow; we want your boat for a little to row out a bit."
"It"s a-blowin" too hard," squeaked the small boy, as he ranged alongside. "I"m afeared you"ll be blowed out."
"Nonsense!" cried Bob Croaker, grasping the rope which the boy threw to him. "Jump on board, younker; we don"t want you to help us, and you"re too heavy for ballast. Slip down the side, Martin, and get in while I hold on to the rope. All right? now I"ll follow. Here, shrimp, hold the rope till I"m in, and then cast off. Look alive!"
As Bob spoke, he handed the rope to the little boy; but, in doing so, let it accidentally slip out of his hand.
"Catch hold o" the main chains, Martin,--quick!"
But Martin was too late. The current that swept out of the harbour whirled the light punt away from the ship"s side, and carried it out seaward. Martin instantly sprang to the oar, and turned the boat"s head round. He was a stout and expert rower, and would soon have regained the ship; but the wind increased at the moment, and blew in a squall off sh.o.r.e, which carried him further out despite his utmost efforts. Seeing that all further attempts were useless, Martin stood up and waved his hand to Bob Croaker, shouting as he did so, "Never mind, Bob, I"ll make for the South Point. Run round and meet me, and we"ll row back together."
The South Point was a low cape of land which stretched a considerable distance out to sea, about three miles to the southward of Bilton harbour. It formed a large bay, across which, in ordinary weather, a small boat might be rowed in safety. Martin Rattler was well-known at the sea-port as a strong and fearless boy, so that no apprehension was entertained for his safety by those who saw him blown away. Bob Croaker immediately started for the Point on foot a distance of about four miles by land; and the crew of the Firefly were so busied with their stranded vessel that they took no notice of the doings of the boys.