The Young Trawler by Robert Michael Ballantyne (books to get back into reading TXT) 📖

unmistakable sound of sympathy. Their talk was about incidents and events of a pleasant or cheering kind in their several experiences. And occasionally, though not often, they referred to the absent David when anything particularly favourable to him could be said.

"We've got good news, Joe," said Billy, when the former was seated.

"Ay, Billy, I'm glad o' that. What may the good news be?"

"Another `_Evening Star_' has been raised up to us by the Lord," said Mrs Bright, "but oh! it will never shine like the first one to _me_!" The poor woman could go no further, so Billy again took up the story.

"You know," he said, "that our kind friend Miss Ruth Dotropy has been greatly taken up about us since father went--went home, and it seems that she's bin writin' to Lun'on about us, tellin' all about the wreck, an' about our mistake in goin' to sea, last trip, without bein' inspected, which lost us the insurance-money. An' there's a rich friend o' hers as has sent her a thousand pound to buy mother another smack!"

"You _don't_ say that's true, Billy!" exclaimed Joe, with a look of surprise.

"That's just what I do say, Joe. The smack is already bought, and is to be fitted out at once, an' mother has made _you_ her skipper, Joe, an' the rest have all agreed to go--Zulu as cook--and Gunter too. Won't you, John?"

The boy, who was somewhat excited by the news he had to tell, frankly held out his hand to Gunter, and that worthy, grasping it with an unwonted display of frankness on his part growled--"I'm with 'ee, lad."

"Yes, it's all arranged," resumed Billy, "and we'll not be long o' being ready for sea, so you won't be left to starve, mother--"

Up to this point the poor boy had held on with his wonted vivacity, but he stopped suddenly. The corners of his mouth began to twitch, and, laying his head on his mother's bosom, he sobbed aloud.

It did the widow good to comfort him. The fishermen had an instinctive perception that their wisest course lay in taking no notice, and continuing their low-voiced intercourse.

"Well, now," said Joe, "I have read in story-books of folk bein' as lib'ral sometimes as to give a thousand pounds, but I never thought I'd live to see 'em do it."

"Why, Joe, where have your eyes and ears bin?" said Luke Trevor. "Don't you know it was a lib'ral gentleman, if not two, or p'raps three, as lent the _Ensign_, our first gospel-ship, to the Mission?"

"That's true, Luke; I forgot that when I spoke, an' there's more gospel-smacks comin', I'm told, presented in the same way by lib'ral folk."

"It's my belief," said Luke, with emphasis, at the same time striking his right knee with his hand, "it's my belief that afore long we'll have a gospel-ship for every fleet on the North Sea."

"Right you are, boy," said Joe, "an' the sooner the better. Moreover, I've heard say that there's a talk about sellin' baccy on board of the mission-ships _cheaper_ than what they do aboard o' the copers. Did any of 'ee hear o' that?"

"I heard somethin' about it," answered Luke, "but it's too good news to be true. If they do, it'll drive the copers off the sea."

"Of course it will. That's just what they're a-goin' to do it for, I suppose."

Reader, the mode of dealing with the abominable "coper" traffic referred to by these men has at last happily been adopted, and the final blow has been dealt by the simple expedient of underselling the floating grog-shops in the article of tobacco. Very considerable trouble and expense have to be incurred by the mission, however, for the tobacco has to be fetched from a foreign port; but the result amply repays the cost for the men naturally prefer paying only 1 shilling per pound on board the mission-ship, to paying 1 shilling 6 pence on board the "coper." The smacksman's advantages in this respect may be better understood when we say that on shore he has to pay 4 shillings per pound for tobacco. But his greatest advantage of all--that for which the plan has been adopted--is his being kept away from the vessel where, while purchasing tobacco, he is tempted to buy poisonous spirits. Of course the anti-smoker is entitled to say "it were better that the smacksman should be saved from tobacco as well as drink!" But of two evils it is wise to choose the less. Tobacco at 1 shilling 6 pence procured in the "coper," with, to some, its irresistible temptation to get drunk on vile spirits, is a greater evil than the procuring of the same weed at 1 shilling in a vessel all whose surroundings and internal arrangements are conducive to the benefit of soul and body.

"D'ye mind the old _Swan_, boys?" asked an elderly man--a former friend of David Bright who had dropped in with his mite of genuine sympathy.

"What, the first gospel-ship as was sent afloat some thirty years ago? It would be hard to remember what existed before I was born!"

"Well, you've heard of her, anyhow. She was lent by the Admiralty for the work in the year eighteen hundred and something, not to go out like the _Ensign_ to the North Sea fleets, but to cruise about an' visit in the Thames. I was in the _Swan_ myself for a few months when I was a young fellow, and we had grand times aboard of that wessel. It seemed to me like a sort o' home to the sailors that they'd make for arter their woyages was over. Once, I reklect, we had a evenin' service, an' as several ships had come in from furrin parts that mornin' we had the _Swan_ chock-full o' noo hands; but bless you, though they was noo to us they warn't noo to each other. They had many of 'em met aboard the _Swan_ years before. Some of 'em hadn't met for seven and ten year, and sich a shakin' o' hands there was, an' recognisin' of each other!--I thought we'd never get the service begun. Many of 'em was Christian men, and felt like brothers, you see."

"Did many of the masters an' mates come to the services in those days?" asked Joe Davidson.

"Ay, a-many of 'em. W'y, I've seed lots o' both masters an' mates wolunteerin' to indoose their men to come w'en some of 'em warn't willin'--takin' their own boats, too, to the neighbourin' ships an' bringin' off the men as wanted to, w'en the _Swan's_ bell was a-ringin' for service. I heard one man say he hadn't bin to a place o' worship for ten year, an' if he'd know'd what the _Swan_ was like he'd ha' bin to her sooner.

"I mind meetin' wery unexpected with a friend at that time," continued the old fisherman, who saw that his audience was interested in his talk, and that the mind of poor Mrs Bright was being drawn from her great sorrow for a little. "I hadn't met 'im for eight or ten years.

"`Hallo! Abel,' says I, `is that you?'

"`That's me,' says he, ketchin' hold o' my grapnel, an' givin' it a shake that a'most unshipped the shoulder. `Leastwise it's all that's left o' me.'

"`What d'ee mean?' says I.

"`I mean,' says he, `that I've just lost my wessel on the Gunfleet sands, but, thank God, I haven't lost my life, nor none o' my men, though it was a close shave.'

"`How did it happen, Abel?' says I.

"Says he, `It happened pretty much in the usual way. A gale, wi' sleet that thick we could hardly see the end o' the jib-boom. The moment we struck I know'd it was all over wi' the old wessel, but I didn't see my way to go under without a struggle, so we made a desp'rit attemp' to git out the boats, but a sea saved us the trouble, for it swept 'em all away before we got at 'em, as if they'd bin on'y chips o' wood. Then, as if to mock us, another sea pitched us higher on the sands, so as the decks wasn't washed by every wave quite so bad, but we knew that wouldn't last for the tide was makin' fast, so I calls the crew together, an' says I, "Now, lads, I've often prayed with you an' for you. In a few minutes we'll have to take to the riggin', an' you know what the end o' that's likely to be. Before doin' so, I'll pray again, for nothin' is impossible to the Lord, an' it may be His will to spare us yet a while." Well, I prayed. Then we took to the riggin' to wait for death--or rescue. An' sure enough, after we had bin six hours there, an' was all but frozen, a fishin'-smack came past and took us off.'"

"Now, mates," said Joe Davidson, after they had chatted thus in subdued tones for some time, "it do seem to me that as most of us are of one mind here, and we are, so to speak, of one fisher-family, it might do Mrs Bright good if we was to have a bit of the Word together, and a prayer or two."

As every one agreed to this either heartily or by silence, a Bible was produced, and Joe,--being mate of the late _Evening Star_, and therefore a sort of natural head of the family--read the portion where God promises to be a Husband to the widow, and a Father to the fatherless.

Then they all knelt while he prayed in simple language for comfort and a blessing to the mourning household. He was followed with a very few but intensely earnest words by Luke. Even John Gunter put up an unpremeditated prayer in the words, "God help us!" uttered in a choking voice, and the old fisherman followed them all with a deep "Amen."

After that they shook hands tenderly with the widow and Billy, and went out silently from the house of mourning.


CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.


THE CAPTAIN'S APPETITE RESTORED, AND RUTH IN A NEW LIGHT.

Captain Bream reclined one day on a sofa in the sitting-room of the house where he had first made the acquaintance of the Miss Seawards. Both ladies were seated by his side, the one working worsted cuffs and the other comforters, and both found the utmost difficulty in repressing tears when they looked at their kind nautical friend, for a great change had come over him since we last saw him.

We will not venture to state what was the illness that had laid the captain, as he himself expressed it on his beam-ends, but whatever it might have been, it had reduced him to a mere shadow. His once round cheeks were hollow; his eyes were so sunken that they appeared to have retired into the interior of his head, out of which, as out of two deep caverns, they gleamed solemnly. His voice, having been originally pitched so low that it could not well get lower, had become reduced to the sound of a big drum muffled; it had also a faint resemblance to a bassoon with a bad cold. His beard and moustache, having been allowed to grow, bore a striking likeness to a worn-out clothes-brush, and his garments