Captains Courageous by Rudyard Kipling (e manga reader .txt) đ
- Author: Rudyard Kipling
- Performer: -
Book online «Captains Courageous by Rudyard Kipling (e manga reader .txt) đ». Author Rudyard Kipling
âI know it; but he thought I was crazy. Iâm afraid I called him a thief because I couldnât find the bills in my pocket.â
âA sailor found them by the flagstaff thatâthat night,â sobbed Mrs. Cheyne.
âThat explains it, then. I donât blame Troop any. I just said I wouldnât workâon a Banker, tooâand of course he hit me on the nose, and oh! I bled like a stuck hog.â
âMy poor darling! They must have abused you horribly.â
âDunno quite. Well, after that, I saw a light.â
Cheyne slapped his leg and chuckled. This was going to be a boy after his own hungry heart. He had never seen precisely that twinkle in Harveyâs eye before.
âAnd the old man gave me ten and a half a month; heâs paid me half now; and I took hold with Dan and pitched right in. I canât do a manâs work yet. But I can handle a dory âmost as well as Dan, and I donât get rattled in a fogâmuch; and I can take my trick in light windsâthatâs steering, dearâand I can âmost bait up a trawl, and I know my ropes, of course; and I can pitch fish till the cows come home, and Iâm great on old Josephus, and Iâll show you how I can clear coffee with a piece of fish-skin, andâI think Iâll have another cup, please. Say, youâve no notion what a heap of work there is in ten and a half a month!â
âI began with eight and a half, my son,â said Cheyne.
âThat so? You never told me, sir.â
âYou never asked, Harve. Iâll tell you about it some day, if you care to listen. Try a stuffed olive.â
âTroop says the most interesting thing in the world is to find out how the next man gets his vittles. Itâs great to have a trimmed-up meal again. We were well fed, though. But mug on the Banks. Disko fed us first-class. Heâs a great man. And Danâthatâs his sonâDanâs my partner. And thereâs Uncle Salters and his manures, anâ he reads Josephus. Heâs sure Iâm crazy yet. And thereâs poor little Penn, and he is crazy. You mustnât talk to him about Johnstown, becauseâ
âAnd, oh, you must know Tom Platt and Long Jack and Manuel. Manuel saved my life. Iâm sorry heâs a Portuguee. He canât talk much, but heâs an everlasting musician. He found me struck adrift and drifting, and hauled me in.â
âI wonder your nervous system isnât completely wrecked,â said Mrs. Cheyne.
âWhat for, Mama? I worked like a horse and I ate like a hog and I slept like a dead man.â
That was too much for Mrs. Cheyne, who began to think of her visions of a corpse rocking on the salty seas. She went to her stateroom, and Harvey curled up beside his father, explaining his indebtedness.
âYou can depend upon me to do everything I can for the crowd, Harve. They seem to be good men on your showing.â
âBest in the Fleet, sir. Ask at Gloucester,â said Harvey. âBut Disko believes still heâs cured me of being crazy. Danâs the only one Iâve let on to about you, and our private cars and all the rest of it, and Iâm not quite sure Dan believes. I want to paralyze âem tomorrow. Say, canât they run the âConstanceâ over to Gloucester? Mama donât look fit to be moved, anyway, and weâre bound to finish cleaning out by tomorrow. Wouverman takes our fish. You see, weâre the first off the Banks this season, and itâs four twenty-five a quintal. We held out till he paid it. They want it quick.â
âYou mean youâll have to work tomorrow, then?â
âI told Troop I would. Iâm on the scales. Iâve brought the tallies with me.â He looked at the greasy notebook with an air of importance that made his father choke. âThere isnât but threeâ no-two ninety-four or five quintal more by my reckoning.â
âHire a substitute,â suggested Cheyne, to see what Harvey would say.
âCanât, sir. Iâm tally-man for the schooner. Troop says Iâve a better head for figures than Dan. Troopâs a mighty just man.â
âWell, suppose I donât move the âConstanceâ to-night, howâll you fix it?â
Harvey looked at the clock, which marked twenty past eleven.
âThen Iâll sleep here till three and catch the four oâclock freight. They let us men from the Fleet ride free as a rule.â
âThatâs a notion. But I think we can get the âConstanceâ around about as soon as your menâs freight. Better go to bed now.â
Harvey spread himself on the sofa, kicked off his boots, and was asleep before his father could shade the electrics. Cheyne sat watching the young face under the shadow of the arm thrown over the forehead, and among many things that occurred to him was the notion that he might perhaps have been neglectful as a father.
âOne never knows when oneâs taking oneâs biggest risks,â he said. âIt might have been worse than drowning; but I donât think it hasâI donât think it has. If it hasnât, I havenât enough to pay Troop, thatâs all; and I donât think it has.â
Morning brought a fresh sea breeze through the windows, the âConstanceâ was side-tracked among freight-cars at Gloucester, and Harvey had gone to his business.
âThen heâll fall overboard again and be drowned,â the mother said bitterly.
âWeâll go and look, ready to throw him a rope in case. Youâve never seen him working for his bread,â said the father.
âWhat nonsense! As if any one expectedââ
âWell, the man that hired him did. Heâs about right, too.â
They went down between the stores full of fishermenâs oilskins to Wouvermanâs wharf where the âWeâre Hereâ rode high, her Bank flag still flying, all hands busy as beavers in the glorious morning light. Disko stood by the main hatch superintending Manuel, Penn, and Uncle Salters at the tackle. Dan was swinging the loaded baskets inboard as Long Jack and Tom Platt filled them, and Harvey, with a notebook, represented the skipperâs interests before the clerk of the scales on the salt-sprinkled wharf-edge.
âReady!â cried the voices below. âHaul!â cried Disko. âHi!â said Manuel. âHere!â said Dan, swinging the basket. Then they heard Harveyâs voice, clear and fresh, checking the weights.
The last of the fish had been whipped out, and Harvey leaped from the string-piece six feet to a ratline, as the shortest way to hand Disko the tally, shouting, âTwo ninety-seven, and an empty hold!â
âWhatâs the total, Harve?â said Disko.
âEight sixty-five. Three thousand six hundred and seventy-six dollars and a quarter. âWish Iâd share as well as wage.â
âWell, I wonât go so far as to say you hevnât deserved it, Harve. Donât you want to slip up to Wouvermanâs office and take him our tallies?â
âWhoâs that boy?â said Cheyne to Dan, well used to all manner of questions from those idle imbeciles called summer boarders.
âWell, heâs kind oâ supercargo,â was the answer. âWe picked him up struck adrift on the Banks. Fell overboard from a liner, he sez. He was a passenger. Heâs by way oâ hemâ a fisherman now.â
âIs he worth his keep?â
âYe-ep. Dad, this man wants to know ef Harveâs worth his keep. Say, would you like to go aboard? Weâll fix up a ladder for her.â
âI should very much, indeed. âTwonât hurt you, Mama, and youâll be able to see for yourself.â
The woman who could not lift her head a week ago scrambled down the ladder, and stood aghast amid the mess and tangle aft.
âBe you anyways interested in Harve?â said Disko.
âWell, ye-es.â
âHeâs a good boy, anâ ketches right hold jest as heâs bid. Youâve heard haow we found him? He was sufferinâ from nervous prostration, I guess, âr else his head had hit somethinâ, when we hauled him aboard. Heâs all over that naow. Yes, this is the cabin. âTainât in order, but youâre quite welcome to look araound. Those are his figures on the stovepipe, where we keep the reckoninâ mosdy.â
âDid he sleep here?â said Mrs. Cheyne, sitting on a yellow locker and surveying the disorderly bunks.
âNo. He berthed forward, madam, anâ only fer him anâ my boy hookinâ fried pies an mugginâ up when they ought to haâ been asleep, I dunno as Iâve any special fault to find with him.â
âThere werenât nothinâ wrong with Harve,â said Uncle Salters, descending the steps. âHe hung my boots on the main-truck, and he ainât over anâ above respectful to such as knows moreân he do, specially about farminâ; but he were mostly misled by Dan.â
Dan in the meantime, profiting by dark hints from Harvey early that morning, was executing a wardance on deck. âTom, Tom!â he whispered down the hatch. âHis folks has come, anâ Dad hainât caught on yet, anâ theyâre pow-wowinâ in the cabin. Sheâs a daisy, anâ heâs all Harve claimed he was, by the looks of him.â
âHowly Smoke!â said Long Jack, climbing out covered with salt and fish-skin. âDâye belave his tale av the kid anâ the little four-horse rig was thrue?â
âI knew it all along,â said Dan. âCome anâ see Dad mistook in his judgments.â
They came delightedly, just in time to hear Cheyne say: âIâm glad he has a good character, becauseâheâs my son.â
Diskoâs jaw fell,âLong Jack always vowed that he heard the click of it,âand he stared alternately at the man and the woman.
âI got his telegram in San Diego four days ago, and we came over.â
âIn a private car?â said Dan. âHe said ye might.â
âIn a private car, of course.â
Dan looked at his father with a hurricane of irreverent winks.
âThere was a tale he told us av drivinâ four little ponies in a rig av his own,â said Long Jack. âWas that thrue now?â
âVery likely,â said Cheyne. âWas it, Mama?â
âHe had a little drag when we were in Toledo, I think,â said the mother.
Long Jack whistled. âOh, Disko!â said he, and that was all.
âI wuzâI am mistook in my jedgmentsâworseân the men oâ Marblehead,â said Disko, as though the words were being windlassed out of him. âI donât mind owninâ to you, Mr. Cheyne, as I mistrusted the boy to be crary. He talked kinder odd about money.â
âSo he told me.â
âDid he tell ye anything else? âCause I pounded him once.â This with a somewhat anxious glance at Mrs. Cheyne.
âOh, yes,â Cheyne replied. âI should say it probably did him more good than anything else in the world.â
âI jedged âtwuz necessary, er I wouldnât haâ done it. I donât want you to think we abuse our boys any on this packet.â
âI donât think you do, Mr. Troop.â
Mrs. Cheyne had been looking at the facesâDiskoâs ivory-yellow, hairless, iron countenance; Uncle Saltersâs, with its rim of agricultural hair; Pennâs bewildered simplicity; Manuelâs quiet smile; Long Jackâs grin of delight, and Tom Plattâs scar. Rough, by her standards, they certainly were; but she had a motherâs wits in her eyes, and she rose with out-stretched hands.
âOh, tell me, which is who?â said she, half sobbing. âI want to thank you and bless youâall of you.â
âFaith, that pays me a hunder time,â said Long Jack.
Disko introduced them all in due form. The captain of an old-time Chinaman could have done no better, and Mrs. Cheyne babbled incoherently. She nearly threw herself into Manuelâs arms when she understood that he had first found Harvey.
âBut how shall I leave him dreeft?â said poor Manuel. âWhat do you yourself if you find him so? Eh, wha-at? We are in one good boy, and I am ever so pleased he come to be your son.â
âAnd he told me Dan was his partner!â she cried. Dan was already sufficiently pink, but he
Comments (0)