Фредерик Марриет
Masterman Ready
Chapter Twenty Eight.
That night Ready sat up for two or three hours working by candle-light (William keeping him company), very busily engaged fitting up the fishing-lines with leads and hooks. At last two were complete.
“What bait must we use, Ready?”
“I should think that the best would be one of the fish out of the shells which are in the sand; but a piece of pork fat will, I dare say, do as well.”
“And whereabouts would you fish, Ready?”
“The best place, I should think, would be at the farthermost end of the point, where I got the boat through the reef—the water is deep there close to the rocks.”
“I was thinking, Ready, if those gannets and men-of-war birds would be good eating.”
“Not very, William; they are very tough and very fishy: we must try for those when we can get nothing better. Now that we have got in the seeds and potatoes, we must all set to to-morrow morning to fell and carry the timber. I think Mr Seagrave had better use the axe with me; and you and Juno can, when I have shown you how, hang the timber to the axle, and wheel it out to the place where we have decided upon building the house. And now we had better go to bed.”
William, however, had made up his mind to do otherwise: he knew that his mother would be very glad to have some fish, and he determined, as the moon shone bright, to try if he could not catch some before he went to bed; so he waited very quietly till he thought Ready was asleep as well as the others, and then went out with the lines, and went down to the beach, where he picked up three or four shells, and, breaking them between two pieces of rock, took out the fish and baited his hooks. He then walked to the point. It was a beautiful night; the water was very smooth, and the moonbeams pierced deep below the surface. William threw in his line, and as soon as the lead touched the bottom he pulled it up about a foot, as Ready had instructed him; and he had not held his line more than half a minute, when it was jerked so forcibly, that not expecting it he was nearly hauled into the water; as it was, the fish was so strong that the line slipped through his hand and scored his fingers; but after a time he was able to pull it in, and he landed on the beach a large silver-scaled fish, weighing nine or ten pounds. As soon as he had dragged it so far away from the edge of the rocks as to prevent its flapping into the water again, William took out the hook and determined to try for another. His line was down as short a time as before, when it was again jerked with violence; but William was this time prepared, and he let out the line and played the fish till it was tired, and then pulled it up, and found that the second fish was even larger than the first. Satisfied with his success, he wound up his lines, and, running a piece of string through the gills of the fish, dragged them back to the tents, and hanged them to the pole, for fear of the dogs eating them; he then went in, and was soon fast asleep. The next morning William was the first up, and showed his prizes with much glee; but Ready was very much displeased with him.
“You did very wrong, William, to run the risk which you did. If you were resolved to catch fish, why did you not tell me, and I would have gone with you? You say, yourself, that the fish nearly hauled you into the water; suppose it had done so, or suppose a small shark instead of one of these gropers (as we call them) had taken the bait, you must have been jerked in; and the rocks are so steep there, that you would not have been able to get out again before a shark had hold of you. Think a moment what would have been the distress of your father and the agony and despair of your poor mother, when this news should have arrived.”
“I was very wrong, Ready,” replied William, “now that I think of it; but I wanted to surprise and please my mother.”
“That reason is almost sufficient to plead your pardon, my dear boy,” replied Ready; “but don’t do so again. And now let us say no more about it; nobody will know that you have been in danger, and there’s no harm done; and you mustn’t mind an old man scolding you a little.”
“No, indeed, Ready, I do not, for I was very thoughtless; but I had no idea that there was danger.”
“There’s your mother coming out of her tent,” replied Ready. “Good-morning, madam. Do you know what William has done for you last night? Look, here are two beautiful fish, and very excellent eating they are, I can tell you.”
“I am quite delighted,” replied Mrs Seagrave.
Tommy clapped his hands and danced about, crying, “Fried fish for dinner;” and Juno said, “Have very fine dinner to-day, Missy Caroline.”
After breakfast they all set out for the grove, where Ready had been cutting down the trees, taking with them the wheels and axle, and a couple of stout ropes. Mr Seagrave and Ready cut down the trees and slung them to the axle, and Juno and William dragged them to the spot where the house was to be built.
They were not sorry when dinner was ready, for it was very hard work.
That night, tired as they were, Ready and William went out, and turned eight more turtle. They continued felling the cocoa-nut trees and dragging the timber for the remainder of the week, when they considered that they had nearly enough, and on Tuesday morning they commenced building the house.
Chapter Twenty Nine.
Ready had cut out and prepared the door-posts and window-frames from timber which he had towed round from the cove. He now fixed four poles in the earth upright at each corner, and then, with the assistance of Mr Seagrave, notched every log of cocoa-nut wood on both sides, where it was to meet with the one crossing it, so that, by laying log upon log alternately, they fitted pretty close, and had only to have the chinks between them filled in with cocoa-nut leaves twisted very tight, and forced between them: this was the work of William and Juno when no more logs were ready for carrying; and, by degrees, the house rose up from its foundation. The fireplace could not be made at once, as they had either to find clay, or to burn shells into lime and build it up with rocks and mortar; but a space was left for it. For three weeks they worked very hard: as soon as the sides were up, they got on the whole of the roof and rafters; and then, with the broad leaves of the cocoa-nut trees which had been cut down, Ready thatched it very strong and securely. At the end of the three weeks the house was secure from the weather; and it was quite time, for the weather had begun to change, the clouds now gathered thick, and the rainy season was commencing.
“We have no time to lose, sir,” said Ready to Mr Seagrave. “We have worked hard, but we must for a few days work harder still. We must fit up the inside of the house, so as to enable Madam to get into it as soon as possible.”
The earth in the inside of the house was then beaten down hard, so as to make a floor; and a sort of bedstead, about two feet from the ground, running the whole length of the house, was raised on each side of the interior: these were fitted with canvas screens to let down by night. And then Ready and William took the last trip in the boat to fetch the chairs and tables, which they did just before the coming on of the first storm of the season. The bedding and all the utensils were now taken into the house; and a little outhouse was built up to cook in, until the fireplace could be made.
It was late on the Saturday night that the family shifted into the new house; and fortunate it was that they had no further occasion for delay, for on the Sunday the first storm burst upon them; the wind blew with great force; and, although they were shielded from it, still the cocoa-nut trees ground and sawed each other’s stems as they bent their heads to its force. The lightning was vivid, and the thunder appalling, while the rain descended in a continual torrent. The animals left the pastures, and sheltered themselves in the grove; and, although noonday, it was so dark that they could not see to read.
“This, then, is the rainy season which you talked about, Ready,” said Mrs Seagrave. “Is it always like this? If so, what shall we do?”
“No, madam; the sun will shine sometimes, but not for long at a time. We shall be able to get out and do something every now and then almost every day, but still we shall have rain, perhaps, for many days without intermission, and we must work indoors.”
“How thankful we ought to be that we have a house over our heads; we should have been drowned in the tents.”
“That I knew, madam, and therefore I was anxious to get a house over your head; let us thank God for it.”
“Indeed we ought,” observed Mr Seagrave; “and it is, indeed, time for us to read the service.”
The morning service was then performed in the new house. Violent as the rain was, it did not penetrate through the thatch which had been put on. Ready and William went out to secure the boat, which they were afraid would be injured, and returned wet to the skin. The storm continued without intermission the whole of the night, but they slept dry and safe; and, when awakened by the noise of the thunder and the pelting of the rain, they thanked God that they had found a dwelling in the wilderness upon which they had been cast.
Chapter Thirty.
When they all rose up the next morning, the clouds had cleared off, and the sun was shining bright. Ready and Juno were the first out of the house—Ready with the telescope under his arm, which he always took with him when he went his rounds, as he termed it, in the morning.
“Well, Juno,” said Ready, “this is a fine morning after the rain.”
“Yes, Massa Ready, very fine morning; but how I get fire light, and make kittle boil for breakfast, I really don’t know—stick and cocoa-nut trash all so wet.”
“Before I went to bed last night, Juno, I covered up the embers with ashes, put some stones over them, and then some cocoa-nut branches, so I think you will find some fire there yet. I was going my morning’s round, but I will stay a little and help you.”
“Tank you, Massa Ready; plenty rain fell last night.”
“Yes, not a little, Juno; you must not expect to find the water at the well very clear this morning; indeed, I doubt if you will see the well at all. Here’s some stuff which is not very wet.”
“I got plenty of fire, too,” replied Juno, who had removed the branches and stones, and was now on her knees blowing up the embers.
“You’ll do very well now, Juno,” said Ready; “besides, William will be out directly—so I’ll leave you.”
Ready whistled to the dogs, who came bounding out, and then set off on his round of inspection. He first directed his steps to the well in the ravine; but, instead of the gushing spring and the limpid clear water, with which the cask sunk for a well had been filled, there was now a muddy torrent, rushing down the ravine, and the well was covered with it, and not to be distinguished.
“I thought as much,” said Ready, musing over the impetuous stream; “well, better too much water than too little.” Ready waded through, as he wished to examine the turtle-pond, which was on the other side of the stream. Finding all right, he again crossed the water, where it was now spread wide over the sandy beach, until he came to the other point where he had moored his boat, both by the head and stern, with a rope, and a heavy stone made fast to it, as an anchor.
From this point, as usual, he surveyed the horizon with his telescope; not that he thought that there was a chance of a vessel arriving among these islands; but, still, as it was possible, he took the trouble; but never except when he went out in the morning alone, as he was aware that the very circumstance of his so doing would make Mr Seagrave melancholy and unsettled. As usual, he dropped the telescope on his arm, after his survey, saying to himself, “Little use doing that.”
The gale having blown offshore, the boat had dragged her moorings, and was so far out that Ready could not get at her.
“Here’s a puzzle,” said the old man; “how foolish of me not to have made a line fast to the shore! I’ll not trust myself to John Shark by swimming to the boat.”
“Let me see.” Ready took the halyards and sheets belonging to the boat’s sails, which he had left on the beach, and bent one on to the other until he had sufficient length of rope. He then made a piece of wood, about two feet long, fast by the middle to the end of the rope, and, after one or two attempts, contrived to throw it into the boat. The piece of wood caught under one of the thwarts, and this enabled him to draw the boat to the shore.
Having baled out the water which had fallen into her during the storm, he then landed again and examined the garden.
“Now to find the sheep and goats,” said Ready, “and then my morning’s walk is over. Now, Romulus, now, Remus, boys, find them out,” continued he; and the dogs, who appeared to know what he was in search of, went away in pursuit, and soon found the sheep and two of the goats, but the third goat was not with them.
“Why, where can Black Nanny be?” muttered Ready, stopping a little while; at last he heard a bleat, in a small copse of brushwood, to which he directed his steps, followed by the dogs. “I thought as much,” said he, as he perceived Nanny lying down in the copse with two new-born kids at her side. “Come, my little fellows, we must find some shelter for you,” said he, taking one up under each arm. “Come, Nanny.”
Ready walked back to the house, and brought in the kids, followed by Nanny. He found Mr and Mrs Seagrave and the children all dressed. Caroline and Tommy gave a scream of delight when they saw the little kids, and even little Albert clapped his hands. As soon as Ready put them down on the ground, Tommy and Caroline had each their arms round one.
“I’ve brought an addition to our family, Mrs Seagrave,” said Ready: “we must allow them to remain in the house until I can knock up a little shelter for them. This is only a beginning; I expect we shall soon have more.”
As soon as the children could be persuaded to part with the kids, Nanny was tied up in a corner, and was very content with fondling and nursing her progeny. Juno and William brought in the breakfast, and as soon as it was over, Mr Seagrave said, “Now, Ready, I think we must hold a council, and make arrangements as to our allotted duties and employments during the rainy season. We have a great deal to do, and must not be idle.”
“Yes, sir, we have a great deal to do, and, to get through our work, we must have order and method in our doings. I’ve lived long enough to know how much can be done by regularity and discipline. Why, sir, there is more work got out of men in a well-conducted man-of-war than there can in the merchant service in double the time. And why so? Because everything is in its place, and there is a place for everything.”
“I agree with you,” said Mrs Seagrave; “method is everything. While one careless little girl is looking for her thimble, another will have finished her work.”
“I assure you I never should have known what can be done by order and arrangement, if I had not been pressed on board of a man-of-war. I found that everything was done in silence. Every man was to his post; everyone had a rope to haul upon, or a rope to let go; the boatswain piped, and in a few seconds every sail was set or taken in as was required. It seemed to me at first like magic. And you observe, Mr Seagrave, that when there is order and discipline, every man becomes of individual importance. If I learnt nothing else on board of a man-of-war, I learnt to make the most of time, and the most of the strength which you could command.”
“You are very right, Ready; you must teach us to do the same,” replied Mr Seagrave.
“We have so much to do, that I hardly know where to begin; yet, sir, we must work at present how we can, and when we can, until we have got things into a little better order. We have done well up to the present.”
“What do you think we ought to do first?”
“Well, sir, our first job will be to haul up the boat and secure her from harm; we will half-dock her in the sand, and cover her over, for I do not think it will be safe to go in her now to the other side of the island, where the sea will always be rough.”
“There I perfectly agree with you. Now what is the next?”
“Why, sir, we must not leave the tents where they are, but take them down, and as soon as they are dry, stow them away, for we may want them by and by; then, sir, we must build a large outhouse for our stores and provisions, with a thatched roof, and a floor raised about four feet from the ground; and then, under the floor, the sheep and goats will have a protection from the weather. Then there is the fish-pond to make, and also a salt-pan to cut out of the rock. Then we have two more long jobs. One is, to go through the woods and examine the stores we have left on the other side of the island, sort and arrange them all ready for bringing here after the rains are over; and we must also explore the island a little, and find out what it produces; for at present we know nothing of it: we may find a great many things useful to us, a great many trees and fruits, and I hope and trust we may be able to find some more grass for our live stock.”
“I agree with you in all you say, Ready,” replied Mr Seagrave; “now how shall we divide our strength?”
“We will not divide at present, sir, if you please. Juno has plenty to do indoors with Mrs Seagrave; William, and you, and I, will first secure the boat and stow away the tents and gear; after that, we will set about the outbuilding, and work at it when we can. If Juno has any time to spare, she had better collect the cocoa-nut leaves, and pile them up for fuel; and Tommy will, I dare say, go with her, and show her how to draw them along.”
“Yes, I’ll show her,” said Tommy, getting on his feet.
“Not just now, Tommy,” said Ready, “but as soon as your mamma can spare her to go with you. Come, sir, a few hours of weather like this is not to be lost,” continued Ready; “we shall have more rain before the day is over, I expect. I will first go to the tent for the shovels; then I will haul the boat round to the beach and meet you there. You and William can take some cord, tie up a large bundle of cocoa-nut boughs, sling it to the wheels, and draw it down to the beach and meet me.”
Chapter Thirty One.
As so many cocoa-nut trees had been cut down to build the house, there were plenty of boughs lying in every direction, and William and Mr Seagrave had soon procured sufficient. In a very short time the boat was drawn up about ten yards from the water’s edge, which Ready said was quite sufficient; they then dug from under with their shovels until the boat was sunk about half down in the sand.
Having filled in the sand all round her up to her gunnel, the boat was then carefully covered over with the boughs, which were weighed down with sand that they might not be blown away.
“I don’t see why you should cover the boat up in this way, Ready; the rain won’t hurt her,” observed William.
“No, sir, the rain won’t do her any harm, but the sun will, when it bursts out occasionally; for it’s very powerful when it does shine, and it would split her all to pieces.”
“I forgot that,” replied William. “What shall we do now?”
“Suppose, as we have two hours to dinner-time, you run for the lines, William, and we’ll try for some fish.”
“We cannot all three of us fish with only two lines,” said Mr Seagrave.
“No, sir; and as William knows how to catch them, suppose you remain with him, and I will go up and collect wood and chips for Juno’s fire. She was hard pressed for it this morning, it was so wet; but, if once piled up, it will soon be dry. Be careful, Mr Seagrave, not to hold the lines tight in your hands, or you may be jerked into the water.”
Mr Seagrave and William were very fortunate; before the two hours were expired they had caught eight large fish, which they brought up to the house slung on the boat-hook. Tommy hallooed loudly for fish for dinner, and as they had caught so many, it was agreed that the dinner should be put off until some could be got ready, and they were not sorry to eat them instead of salt pork.
They had hardly sat down to table, when the rain came pattering down on the roof, and in a quarter of an hour the storm was as violent, and the thunder and lightning as terrific as on the day before. All outdoor labour was again suspended. Mrs Seagrave, Juno, and Caroline took their work, for there was plenty to do with the needle and thread, and Ready soon found employment for the rest. William and Mr Seagrave unlaid some thick rope, that Ready might make smaller and more useful rope with the yarns. Ready took up his sailing needles, and worked eyelet-holes in the canvas screens (which they had put up in a hurry), so that they might be drawn to and fro as required.
As soon as Ready had hung up the curtains, he looked under the bedsteads for a large bundle, and said, as he opened it, “I shall now decorate Madam Seagrave’s sleeping-place. It ought to be handsomer than the others.” The bundle was composed of the ship’s ensign, which was red, and a large, square, yellow flag with the name of the ship Pacific in large black letters upon it. These two flags Ready festooned and tied up round the bed-place, so as to give it a very gay appearance, and also to hide the rough walls of the cottage.
“Indeed, Ready, I am much obliged to you,” said Mrs Seagrave, when he had finished; “it is really quite grand for this place.”
“It’s the best use we can put them to now, madam,” said Ready.
“I am afraid so,” replied Mr Seagrave, thoughtfully.
“Ready,” said William, after the candles were lighted, “you once half-promised me that you would tell me your history; I wish you would tell us some of it now, as it will pass away the evening.”
“Well, William, I did say so, and I shall keep my word. When you have heard my story, you will say that I have been very foolish in my time; and so I have; but if it proves a warning to you, it will, at all events, be of some use.”
Ready then commenced his history as follows:
History of Old Ready.
“Of course, you wish to know who my father and mother were: that is soon told. My father was the captain of a merchant vessel, which traded from South Shields to Hamburg, and my poor mother, God bless her, was the daughter of a half-pay militia captain, who died about two months after their marriage. The property which the old gentleman had bequeathed to my mother was added to that which my father had already vested in the brig, and he then owned one-third of the vessel; the other two-thirds were the property of a very rich ship-builder and owner, of the name of Masterman. What with the profits of the share he held of the vessel and his pay as captain, my father was well to do. Mr Masterman, who had a very high opinion of my father, and gained much money by his exertions and good management, was present at the marriage, and when I was born, about a year afterwards, he stood for me as godfather. Every one considered that this was a most advantageous circumstance for me, and congratulated my father and mother; for Mr Masterman was a bachelor, of nearly sixty years, without any near relations. It is true, that he was very fond of money; but that, they said, was all the better, as he could not take it away with him when he died. An end, however, was soon put to all their worldly ideas, for a year after I was born, my father was drowned at sea, his vessel and the whole of her crew being lost on the Texel sands; and my mother found herself a widow, with a child scarcely weaned, when she was but twenty-two years of age.
“It was supposed that my mother would still have sufficient to live upon, as the ship had been insured at two-thirds of her value; but, to the astonishment of everybody, Mr Masterman contrived to make it appear that it was his two-thirds of the vessel which had been insured.”
“What is insurance?” inquired William.
“Insurance, my dear boy, is paying a certain sum to people who are called underwriters, that in case the vessel or cargo is lost or damaged, the loss or damage is made good to the owners of the vessel or cargo. You pay in proportion to the risk incurred. Supposing you wished to insure one thousand pounds on a vessel or cargo, and ten per cent was required, you would, if the vessel came home safe, pay the underwriters one hundred pounds; if, on the contrary, the vessel was lost, the underwriters would have to pay you one thousand pounds, the sum which you had insured. I beg your pardon for the interruption, Ready.”
“No need, Mr Seagrave; we never should lose an opportunity of teaching the young. Well, how far the assertion of Mr Masterman was correct or not, it was impossible at the time to say; but I do know that everybody cried out ‘shame’, and that if he did deprive the widow, he had much to answer for; for the Bible says, ‘Pure religion is to visit the fatherless and the widows in their affliction, and to keep yourself unspotted in the world’. The consequence was, that my mother had little or nothing to live upon; but she found friends who assisted her, and she worked embroidery, and contrived to get on somehow until I was eight or nine years of age.”
“But did not your godfather come forward to the assistance of your mother?” inquired Mr Seagrave.
“No, sir, strange to say, he did not; and that made people talk the more. I believe it was the abuse of him, which he did not fail to hear, and which he ascribed to my mother, which turned him away from us; perhaps it was his own conscience, for we always dislike those we have injured.”
“Unfortunately, there is great truth in that remark of yours, Ready,” observed Mr Seagrave; “still, it is strange that he did not do something.”
“It was very strange, sir,—at least, so it appeared at the time, but he was very fond of money, and irritated at the reports and observations which were made about him. But, to go on, sir, I was a strong, hardy boy, and, whenever I could escape from my mother or school, was always found by the water-side or on board of the vessels. In the summer-time I was half the day in water, and was a very good swimmer. My mother perceived my fondness for the profession, and tried all she could to divert my thoughts some other way. She told me of the dangers and hardships which sailors went through, and always ended with my father’s death and a flood of tears.
“We certainly are of a perverse nature, as I have often heard the clergyman say, for it appears to me that we always wish to do that which we are told not to do. If my mother had not been always persuading me against going to sea, I really believe I might have stayed at home. I’ve often thought since, how selfish and unfeeling I must have been. I was too young to know what pain I was giving my mother, and how anxiety was preying upon her, all on my account. Children cannot feel it; if they did, they would do otherwise, for our hearts are seldom hard until we grow older.”
“I agree with you, Ready,” said Mr Seagrave. “If children really knew how much their parents suffer when they behave ill, how alarmed they are at any proofs of wickedness in them, they would be much better.”
“We never find that out, sir, till it is too late,” continued Ready. “Well, sir, I was little more than nine years old, when, on a very windy day, and the water rough, a hawser, by which a vessel was fast to the wharf, was carried away with a violent jerk, and the broken part, as it flew out, struck a person who was at the edge of the wharf, and knocked him into the sea. I heard the crying out, and the men from the wharf and from the ships were throwing ropes to him, but he could not catch hold of them; indeed, he could not swim well, and the water was rough. I caught a rope that had been hauled in again, and leapt off the wharf.
“Young as I was, I swam like a duck, and put the rope into his hands just as he was going down. He clung to it as drowning men only can cling, and was hauled to the piles, and soon afterwards a boat, which had been lowered from the stern of one of the vessels, picked us both up. We were taken to a public-house, and put into bed till dry clothes could be sent for us; and then I found that the person I had saved was my godfather, Mr Masterman. Everyone was loud in my praise; and, although perhaps I ought not to say it, it was a bold act for so young a boy as I was. The sailors took me home to my mother in a sort of triumphal procession; and she, poor thing, when she heard what I had done, embraced me over and over again, one moment rejoicing at my preservation, and the next weeping bitterly at the thoughts of the danger I had encountered, and the probability that my bold spirit would lead me into still greater.”
“But she did not blame you for what you had done?”
“Oh no, William; she felt that I had done my duty towards my neighbour, and perhaps she felt in her own heart that I had returned good for evil; but she did not say so. The next day Mr Masterman called upon us; he certainly looked very foolish and confused when he asked for his godson, whom he had so long neglected. My mother, who felt how useful he might be to me, received him very kindly; but I had been often told of his neglect of me and my mother, and of his supposed unfair conduct towards my father, and had taken a violent dislike to him; his advances towards me were therefore very coolly received. I felt glad that I had saved him; but although I could not exactly understand my own feelings at the time, I am ashamed to say that my pleasure was not derived from having done a good action, so much as indulging a feeling of revenge in having put one under an obligation who had treated me ill; this arose from my proud spirit, which my mother could not check. So you see, William, there was very little merit in what I had done, as, after I had done it, I indulged those feelings which I ought to have checked.”
