Tales of the Sea Part 7

"I don't mind," he observed, as the surgeon finished the job for him; "there's the pension to come, and that'll help keep poor Graham's children."

It's my belief that he did look after those children, as if he felt that G.o.d was watching everything he did for them, or said to them; and the best of fathers could not have managed them better. They both entered the navy, and were an honour to the service. They naturally called him uncle, and so their friends and other children of old s.h.i.+pmates came to call him so, we among others; and as we were always talking of what Uncle Boz had said and done, he became generally known by that name.

His name wasn't Boz, though. His real name was Boswell. He was no relation, however, to Dr Johnson's famous biographer, and he was a very different sort of person, I have an idea. I never saw him angry except once, when some one asked him the question.

"No, sir; I have the privilege, and I take it to be a great one, of being in no way connected with the dirty little lickspittle--there!" he replied, as if with a feeling of relief at having thus delivered himself.

Miss Deborah Boswell was shorter and more feminine than her brother, seeing that icy gales, and salt-water, and hot suns had not played havoc with her countenance, but she was fully as round and jolly.

Uncle Boz was, as may have been surmised, a lieutenant in the navy. He got no promotion for losing his leg, and though he went to sea for some time after that, a lieutenant he remained, and what was extraordinary, a perfectly contented and happy one. Not a grumble at his ill fortune did I ever hear. Not a word of abuse hurled at the big-wigs at the head of affairs. And Tom Bambo,--Tom Bambo had followed Uncle Boz for many long years over the salt ocean. Tom had been picked up (the only survivor of some hundreds) from a sunken slave s.h.i.+p off the coast of Africa. Uncle Boz had on that occasion hauled him with his own hands into the boat.

He was grateful then. Falling overboard afterwards during a heavy gale, in the same locality, where sharks abounded, when all hope of being saved had abandoned him, Uncle Boz from the topsail of the s.h.i.+p saw him struggling.

"I cannot let that poor negro perish," he cried. "Pa.s.s me that grating." Grating in hand, he plunged overboard, swam to Bambo with it, and a boat being lowered, both were picked up. Bambo well understood the risk the brave lieutenant had run for his sake.

"Ah, Ma.s.sa Boz, me lub you as my own soul," he exclaimed, coming up to him with tears in his eyes.

Uncle Boz had taught him that he had a soul.

Such were Uncle Boz, Aunt Deborah, Tom Bambo, and the house they lived in. I again repeat, I have spent the happiest days of my life with them. Holidays they really were. He seldom had less than five or six boys at a time with him stowed away in the before-mentioned little excrescences of the mansion. Summer or winter we liked both equally well. There was always a hearty, chirruping welcome for us, and even now I see before me those three honest, round, kind faces in the porch, Uncle Boz and Aunt Deborah in front, and Bambo in the rear, for being generally employed in the back premises, he was last on the scene, and it was physically impossible for him to pa.s.s his master and mistress.

The Christmas holidays arrived. A jolly journey we had of it; our pea-shooters were not inactive. There were Jack, and I, and big Ned Hollis, and David Fowler, and Tom and Harry King; Ned was older than any of us, and had been at sea, and we all looked up to him greatly. The friends of Uncle Boz were mostly commanders and lieutenants, surgeons, pursers, and marine officers. Now and then he entered on his list a merchant he might have met abroad, whose sons had no home to go to. By this time the Grahams were at sea, fitted out by Uncle Boz. Uncle Boz had had a good deal of money come to him, and it's my belief that he could have lived ten times better than he did, had he spent it all upon himself, instead of thinking only how he could do most good with it.

The wheels of the chaise which contained us youngsters rolled so noiselessly over the snow, that not till the wicket opened, and a secret bell which communicated with the interior rung, did the tableau I have described appear in the porch. There it was though, in all its attractive freshness, by the time we had tumbled, some of us head foremost, out of the chaise.

There was a blazing fire and a plentiful dinner, and we were all soon as merry as crickets, telling our adventures, Uncle Boz listening as if they were important matters of state. It was bitterly cold outside, or the snow would not have remained as it did so close to the sea. We were looking forward to skating the next day on a piece of water a mile or so inland, and we were to build a snow man, and a snow castle, which Uncle Boz undertook to defend with Bambo against all a.s.sailants. Aunt Deborah not being a combatant, was to be employed in the heroine-like occupation of making ammunition for both sides, in the shape of s...o...b..a.l.l.s. It was decided that we would in the first place build a castle, and we were to commence early the next morning; our only fear was that the snow might melt, but as there was a very satisfactory biting, black, northerly wind blowing, there was not much chance of that.

Our conversation all the evening was about saps and counter saps, of which Uncle Boz remarked that the red-coats ought to know far more than he did; and this led him to talk of some of the scenes in which he had taken part, and Bambo was sent for to a.s.sist his memory, and together they enthusiastically fought their battles over again. They were like Uncle Toby and Corporal Trim, except that the ocean was their field of glory, and that the cut of the two old seamen's jibs was strongly in contrast to the figures of their brother red-coats. It was a pleasant evening, that it was. How their tongues wagged. How they flourished their legs of wood! Bambo seemed to be sitting on quicksilver, on the top of the wooden stool which he had brought in and placed near the door. His exclamations and gesticulations kept us in hearty roars of laughter, as he became interested in the account of any gallant deeds thus brought by Uncle Boz to his recollection. It is impossible, however, for me now to repeat any of their accounts. I may do so by-and-by, when I have got on a little more with my story, for story I have, and a very interesting one it ought to prove.

Breakfast over the next morning, having put all wheel-barrows, hand-barrows, and baskets we could find into requisition, we set to work to rear the stronghold to be defended. Such a castle as was the result never was seen before or since. Uncle Boz declared that he should be proud to defend it to the last gasp, Bambo echoing the sentiment. It was built on the side of the hill, with a perpendicular rock six feet high at least below it, and we all p.r.o.nounced the fortress equal to those of Gibraltar, Ehrenbreitstein, San Sebastian, or any others of like celebrity. Both defenders were armed with s.h.i.+elds--tops of saucepans--while, standing back to back, they with them defended their heads, or bravely bobbed as the snowy missiles flew towards them. We made our attacks now on one side, now on the other, they spinning round on their wooden legs with astonis.h.i.+ng rapidity, to meet them. At length our general resolved to storm. The most difficult side was chosen-- where the cliff was steepest. A feint was made on the opposite side, towards which the defenders turned all their attention. We had reached the summit. Our friends on the opposite side pushed so vehemently against the walls, that an impetus was given to the whole fabric.

Thundering over the cliff it came, with defenders and a.s.sailants, and all together were buried in the ruins. Uncle Boz soon scrambled out; but where was Bambo? At length a brown stump was seen wagging faintly.

"That's his _leg_, haul away, boys," shouted Uncle Boz. We hauled and dug with might and main, for we had no small fear lest our black friend should be smothered outright; but the body followed the leg, as we hauled, and happily there was not only life, but activity in him, and jumping up, before we were aware what he was about to do, he began to pelt us so vehemently, that, amid shouts of laughter, we were compelled to take to flight, and scamper down the hill, Uncle Boz aiding him in following up the victory.

That evening Uncle Boz showed us an apparatus for sending a line on board a stranded s.h.i.+p, whether invented or improved by him I am not prepared to say, nor whether the projectile was a rocket or a shot, or both, fired from a gun. Hollis, the eldest of our party, who had considerable mechanical talent, seemed clearly to understand its use, I remember.

Great preparations had been made for Christmas Day. Such a turkey, such a piece of beef, and such a plum pudding! We went to church in the morning in spite of the distance, and a heavy gale blowing in our teeth coming back. Fine old English holly, with many a scarlet berry on it, adorned the church; and the instruments, violin, violoncello, flageolet, etcetera, etcetera, with the voices, were in great tune and wind; and the sermon was appropriate,--"Love, goodwill towards all men," just long enough to send us away in a happy temper, with its leading idea or principle in the heads, and may be in the hearts of some hearers. Our appet.i.tes, too, were sharpened by our walk, and the keen wind and the recollection of the appearance of our destined viands as we saw them displayed in Miss Deborah's larder. The wind was blowing strong on sh.o.r.e, not softened by its pa.s.sage across the North Sea; the snow began to fall; thickly and more thickly it came down. "Stop," cried Uncle Boz, as we neared the cliff, "there's a gun!" We listened. The low, dull sound of a gun came across the seething, tossing ocean, but the s.h.i.+p from which it was fired was unseen. "She's a large s.h.i.+p, dismasted, possibly lost her anchors, or has no confidence in our holding ground. She is right. It is bad," he remarked; "firing to warn us to be on the look-out for her. We'll do that same at all events, poor souls. Where will she drive ash.o.r.e, though?" Stooping down, he listened attentively for some time, then standing up, he exclaimed, "She'll strike not far from this to the south'ard. Bambo, we must try to help them."

"Ay, ay, sir. Dat we will," cried Bambo.

"Then find out d.i.c.k Hawker, Sam Swattridge, and the rest. Tell them if they'll go I'll command them, and if they won't, that they're a set of cowardly so-and-soes--. No, no, don't say that, they'll go fast enough."

While Bambo hobbled off to the neighbouring fis.h.i.+ng village, where there was a small harbour, we accompanied Uncle Boz home. Near the harbour a fine boat was kept ready to launch, which, though not a professed lifeboat, from her having been fitted up by Uncle Boz, she possessed many of the necessary qualifications for dangerous service. As soon as we reached the house, Uncle Boz got out the apparatus I have described, and gave it in charge of Ned Hollis, with Tom King as his lieutenant, and the rest of us as crew. He directed us all to obey Hollis implicitly. Hollis had not only been at sea, but had already superior scientific attainments.

"Remember men's lives may depend on the way you manage that affair, lads. Now bear it along with you to the beach, to the spot where the s.h.i.+p is likely to come ash.o.r.e. Deb, we'll be back for dinner I hope, and shall not have worse appet.i.tes. Perhaps we may have a guest or two," he added, as we went out.

We had not gone far before we met two of the coastguard men, who had heard the firing. The head station, where the lieutenant resided, was at a considerable distance, and it was feared that he had gone in an opposite direction. Though the coastguard men would be of great a.s.sistance, Hollis was still to have charge of the apparatus. Uncle Boz having speedily made his arrangements, hurried off to the village, while we continued our course along the beach. Behind us was a lofty sand-hill, and Hollis ordered King and me to climb up to try and discover the s.h.i.+p. It was bitter work, even on the beach, much worse for the poor fellows wet through and through at sea. At first, on reaching the top of the sand-hill, we could see nothing, but soon the snow fell less densely, and through it we discovered the dim outline of a large s.h.i.+p, now almost buried in the trough of the sea, now lifted to the foaming summit of a wave as she drove onward towards the beach. Her masts were gone, though her bowsprit remained. The tide was carrying her somewhat along the beach, so that it seemed as if she would drift not far from the harbour itself. While we were watching, the snow ceased falling, and our interest was now turned towards the boat with Uncle Boz and Bambo in her. She had just reached the mouth of the harbour. It was perilous work. Huge seas were rolling in. A lull was waited for. Out dashed the boat. It seemed as if it were impossible she could live amid those troubled waters. How we held our breath as we watched her progress. Now it seemed as if she were overwhelmed by the curling, foaming seas; then again she emerged and struggled on, buoyantly floating on their summits. To save the s.h.i.+p was beyond human power, but the wish of Uncle Boz was evidently to try and pilot her in between two rocks, where her crew might perhaps reach the sh.o.r.e. Lives are more generally lost when a s.h.i.+p drives on an open beach than when among rocks. In one instance the people may cling to the rocks, but the undertow from the beach sweeps them out as often as they struggle towards it, till their strength fails, and they sink beneath the waves.

With a gla.s.s King had brought, we could see the people on the deck of the hapless craft. King handed it to me. "What do you see now?" he asked.

"Women as well as men, two or three at least," I exclaimed, almost breathless. "Poor creatures! Oh, King, suppose there were children among them!"

The s.h.i.+p rolled fearfully, while the seas meeting with the resistance of her already water-logged hull broke over it in showers of foam, which must have frozen as they fell on her deck. Her crew were huddled together, some forward and some with the pa.s.sengers aft. For her size there appeared to be very few seamen. We told Hollis.

"When the masts went, many of them likely enough went also," was his answer.

Hitherto they had not observed the boat. We saw Uncle Boz waving to them. There was a movement among the men. They saw him; an attempt was made to hoist a sail on the stump of the foremast. It was blown away in an instant.

"No anchor would hold; yet it is their only chance," said Hollis. The coastguard men agreed.

The attempt was made. We saw the crew cutting the stoppers. It was a moment of breathless anxiety. "Yes, it holds," was shouted. The s.h.i.+p brought up head to wind. The boat was making way towards her.

"It will never hold," cried Hollis.

Now was the opportunity for the boat to get alongside. Should the cable part, three minutes would see the s.h.i.+p amid the cruel breakers. The boat seemed almost stationary; the people on deck stretched out their hands to her imploringly. Our eyes ached with gazing on her. We thought not of the biting wind, the piercing cold.

"She is driving," cried Hollis. "But--but--see! see! Uncle Boz is alongside. Heaven protect him!"

There was a rush to the side. Several persons were lowered into the boat. We saw others descending by ropes: whether they all got in we could not tell. Some remained on deck. The boat suddenly appeared at a distance from the s.h.i.+p.

"The cable has parted!" cried Hollis. "No hope for them now!"

We hurried along to where we saw the s.h.i.+p must strike. A huge roller seemed to lift her, and with a terrific crash down she came on the sand, the foaming sea instantly das.h.i.+ng over her, making every timber in her tremble, and tearing off large fragments of her upper works.

"The stoutest s.h.i.+p ever built couldn't stand those shocks many minutes,"

observed one of the coastguard men.

Hollis had planted his apparatus. A shot was fired, and the line fell over the wreck as the sea took one poor fellow who had let go his hold to clutch it. In vain he lifted up his hands to grasp some part of the wreck. He was borne helplessly into the seething caldron below. Now he was carried towards us. We could see his straining eyeb.a.l.l.s, and his arms stretched out. In vain, in vain. The hissing roller, as it receded, swept him far away; a shriek reached our ears, and we saw him no more. Such has been many a brave seaman's lot. Another seaman was more successful, the line was secured, and now we signalled to those on board to secure a stouter line that we might haul it on sh.o.r.e. One was found, and we began hauling away, but our united strength could only just do it. How should we ever get a cable taut enough to allow of the people pa.s.sing safely along it? Happily at that moment several fishermen arrived with stout poles, boats' masts, and oars, and began planting them in the sand.

Then taking the rope in hand, they hauled it in with ease. A hawser had been made fast to the rope. That in the same way was got in, and the end secured to the poles. A traveller had been wisely placed on the hawser. The first man securing himself to it worked his way along, carrying a line with him. He was one of the mates. There were six more people on board alive, including the captain, he told us. The rest had been lowered into the boat, with the women and children. "Children out in such weather as this!" more than one of us exclaimed. But the boat; where was that? Now, for the first time, while the line which the brave mate had brought on sh.o.r.e was being hauled back, we had time to look out for her. I ran up the sand-hill. In vain I turned my eyes over the angry, foaming sea. Not a glimpse of the boat could I obtain. Down came the snow again. My heart sank within me. "Haul away!" I heard shouted. I ran to take my part. The big tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn't tell my companions what I feared. At last I could refrain no longer. "Oh Hollis! oh King! the boat has gone," I cried out, bursting into tears. "Uncle Boz! dear Uncle Boz and Bambo!" sobbed more than one of us.

"No fear, masters--no fear," exclaimed one of the fishermen. "The boat is in long ago, and the lieutenant and those he has saved from a watery grave are safe on sh.o.r.e, and on their way up to the house by this time."

How our hearts felt relieved, and if we didn't shout for joy, it was because they were too full for that. Well, I must cut my story short.

Three more men came on sh.o.r.e safe; a fourth attempting to get along, trusting to his own strength without the traveller, was washed off, and in spite of a rush made into the water to save him, was carried back and lost. The brave captain was the last man to leave the s.h.i.+p, and scarcely had he reached the strand than a huge sea, like some great monster, with a terrific roar struck the wreck, and literally dashed her into a thousand fragments. I must not stop either to describe the appearance of the beach strewn with fragments of wreck, with cargo and baggage, or how the people from far and near collected to appropriate what they could, eager to secure a large booty before the proper authorities arrived to take possession of the property. Bambo, who appeared to invite all those we had rescued up to the house, satisfied us that Uncle Boz was safe. We hurried on with our companions, for we were all wet through, and bitterly cold. The house was hot enough when we got inside, for there were blazing fires in each room, Uncle Boz presiding over one, Bambo over the other, with saucepans and spoons, and a strong smell of port-wine negus pervading the atmosphere. In the dining-room, into which Miss Deborah did not venture, were five or six rolls of rugs, with rough human heads sticking out of them. In the drawing-room, the dear lady's own domain, was a large basket, serving as a cradle, in one corner, and two big chairs forming a bed in another; one occupied by an infant, the other by a little creature with fair face, and beautiful blue eyes, which would look up with bewildered gaze to watch what was going forward. Aunt Deb was deeply busied in grating nutmeg, squeezing lemons, and stirring up sugar.

"Oh, dear boys, run and change your clothes, or you'll all catch your death of cold!" she exclaimed.

Up we went, but soon discovered that she had forgotten to warn us that most of our rooms were occupied. However, she recollected very quickly, and hurrying, panting after us, brought us all dry garments into Hollis'

room.

The captain had followed us, and arrived as we came back. Uncle Boz was about to make another jorum of negus. He looked up, spoon in hand.

"Welcome on sh.o.r.e, 'tis no time for ceremony," he cried out. "Always glad to receive a seaman, in distress. There, turn into my bed in the room through there. Your men shall have rugs in the other room there, till their clothes are dry."

Where was our Christmas dinner all this time? That had the caboose to itself, and Bambo every now and then stumped off to see how it was going on, Miss Deborah also occasionally looking in for the same purpose. By the time the dinner was cooked, the seamen's clothes were dried, and then the table was spread in the dining-room, and Uncle Boz, standing up, asked a blessing on the food, and told the s.h.i.+pwrecked seamen to fall to. Miss Deborah carried off certain portions of the turkey and ham up-stairs, and Uncle Boz, in like manner, took some into his best guest-chamber, the one built for his late s.h.i.+pmate. All I know is that every sc.r.a.p had disappeared before he found out that neither he nor any of us had eaten a morsel. He winked to us to say nothing about the matter, and Bambo soon after placed on the drawing-room table some bread and cheese, and a huge pile of gigantic mince-pies. We demolished them, and I may honestly say that I never more thoroughly enjoyed a Christmas dinner, at least seeing one eaten.

I have a good deal more to say about that pair of blue eyes, now closed by sleep in the arm-chair, and those up-stairs to whom the little owner belonged; but I must cry avast for the present. Well! there _is_ a satisfaction in toiling, and denying ourselves to do good to others, and to make them happy, and that is the reason why I have an idea that that same day I have been describing was one of the most satisfactory Christmas days I ever spent.

STORY TWO, CHAPTER 2.

More than a year had pa.s.sed away since those Christmas holidays when the wreck happened, and my brother and I were again to become inmates of Uncle Boz's unique abode. It was midsummer; the trees were green, the air warm and balmy, the wind blew gently, and the broad blue sea sparkled brightly, and seemed joyously to welcome our return.