Jacob Faithful Part 22

"More likely to go to the devil together, you little fool; I never can bear your weight. Hoist away, there, quick."

Hearing the voices, I looked out of the door, and perceiving their situation, ordered the men to hoist as fast as they could, before old Tom's strength should be exhausted; but it was a compound moving crane, and we could not hoist very fast, although we could hoist very great weights. At last, as they were wound up higher and higher, old Tom's strength was going fast. "O Tom, Tom, what must be done? I can't--I can't hold on but a little longer, and we shall be both dashed to pieces. My poor boy?"

"Well, then, I'll let go, father; it was all my folly, and I'll be the sufferer."

"Let go!" cried old Tom; "no, no, Tom--don't let go, my boy; I'll try a little longer. Don't let go, my dear boy--don't let go!"

"Well, father, how much longer can you hold on?"

"A little--very little longer," replied the old man, struggling. "Well, hold fast now," cried young Tom, who, raising his head above his arms, with great exertion s.h.i.+fted one of his hands to his father's thigh, then the other; raising himself as before, he then caught at the seat of his father's trousers with his teeth; old Tom groaned, for his son had taken hold of more than the garments; he then s.h.i.+fted his hands round his father's body--from thence he gained the collar of his jacket--from the collar he climbed on his father's shoulders, from thence he seized hold of the fall above, and relieved his father of the weight. "Now, father, are you all right?" cried Tom, panting as he clung to the fall above him.

"I can't hold on ten seconds more, Tom--no longer--my clutch is going now."

"Hang on by your eyelids, father, if you love me," cried young Tom, in agony.

It was indeed an awful moment; they were now at least sixty feet above the lighter, suspended in the air; the men whirled round the wheel, and I had at last the pleasure of hauling them both in on the floor of the warehouse; the old man so exhausted that he could not speak for more than a minute. Young Tom, as soon as all was safe, laughed immoderately. Old Tom sat upright. "It might have been no laughing matter, Mr Tom," said he, looking at his son.

"What's done can't be helped, father, as Jacob says. After all, you're more frightened than hurt."

"I don't know that, you young scamp," replied the old man, putting his hand behind him, and rubbing softly; "you've bit a piece clean out of my _starn_. Now, let this be a warning to you, Tom. Jacob, my boy, couldn't you say that I've met with an _accident_, and get a drop of something from Mr Drummond?"

I thought, after his last observation, I might honestly say that he had met with an accident, and I soon returned with a gla.s.s of brandy, which old Tom was drinking off when his son interrupted him for a share.

"You know, father, I shared the danger."

"Yes, Tom, I know you did," replied the father; "but this was sent to me on account of my _accident_, and as I had that all to myself, I shall have all this too."

"But, father, you ought to give me a drop, if it were only to _take the taste out of my mouth_."

"Your own flesh and blood, Tom," replied his father, emptying his gla.s.s.

"Well, I always heard it was quite unnatural not to like your own flesh and blood," replied Tom; "but I see now that there may be reasons for it."

"Be content, Tom," replied his father, putting down the gla.s.s; "we're now just square. You've had your _raw nip_, and I've had mine."

Mr Drummond now came up, and asked what had been the matter. "Nothing, sir--only an accident. Tom and I had a bit of a _hoist_."

As this last word had a double meaning, Mr Drummond thought that a cask had surged, when coming out of the lighter, and struck them down. He desired old Tom to be more careful, and walked away, while we proceeded to unload the lighter. The new clerk was a very heavy, simple young man, plodding and attentive certainly, but he had no other merit; he was sent into the lighter to rake the marks and numbers of the casks as they were hoisted up, and soon became a b.u.t.t to young Tom, who gave him the wrong marks and numbers of all the casks, to his interrogations.

"What's that, boy?" cried the pudding-faced fellow, with his pencil in one hand and his book in the other.

"Pea soup, 13," replied Tom; "ladies' bonnets, 24. Now, then, master, chalk again, pipe-clay for sodgers, 3; red herrings, 26." All of which were carefully noted down by Mr Grubbins who, when the lighter was cleared, took the memoranda to Mr Drummond.

Fortunately, we had checked the number of the casks as they were received above--their contents were flour. Mr Drummond sent for young Tom, and asked him how he dared play such a trick. Tom replied very boldly, "that it was meant as a good lesson to the young man, that in future he did his own work, and did not trust to others." To this Mr Drummond agreed, and Master Tom was dismissed without punishment.

As the men had all gone to dinner, I went down into the lighter to have a little chat with my old s.h.i.+pmates. "Well, Jacob," said old Tom, "Tom's not a bit wiser than he was before--two sc.r.a.pes to-day, already."

"Well, father, if I prove my folly by getting into sc.r.a.pes, I prove my wit by getting out of them."

"Yes, that may be true, Tom; but suppose we had both come down with a run, what would you have thought then?"

"I suspect, father, that I should have been past thinking."

"I once did see a thing of that kind happen," said old Tom, calling to mind former scenes in his life; "and I'll tell you a yarn about it, boys, because they say danger makes friends."

We sat down by old Tom, who narrated as follows "When I was captain of the main-top in the _La Minerve_, forty-four gun frigate, we were the smartest s.h.i.+p up the Mediterranean; and many's the exercise we were the means of giving to other s.h.i.+p's companies, because they could not beat us--no, not even hold a candle to us. In both fore and main-top we had eight-and-twenty as smart chaps as ever put their foot to a rattling, or slid down by an a'ter backstay. Now, the two captains of the foretop were both prime young men, active as monkeys, and bold as lions. One was named Tom Herbert, from North s.h.i.+elds, a dark, good-looking chap, with teeth as white as a n.i.g.g.e.r's, and a merry chap he was, always a-showing them. The other was a c.o.c.kney chap. Your Lunnuners arn't often good seamen; but when they are seamen, there's no better; they never allow any one to show them the way, that's for sartin, being naturally s.p.u.n.ky sort of chaps, and full of tricks and fun. This fellow's name was Bill Wiggins, and between him and Herbert there was always a jealousy who should be the smartest man. I've seen both of them run out on the yard, in fine weather, without holding on nothing, seize the lift, and down to their station, haul up the earing, in no time; up by the lift again, and down on deck, by the backstay, before half the men had time to get clear of the top. In fact, they often risked their lives in bad weather, when there was no occasion for it, that one might outdo the other. Now, this was all very well, and a good example to the other men: the captain and officers appeared to like these contests for superiority, but it ended in their hating each other, and not being even on speaking terms, which, as the two captains of the top, was bad. They had quarrelled often, and fought five times, neither proving the better man; either both done up, or parted by the master-at-arms, and reported to the first lieutenant, so that at last they were not so much countenanced by the officers, and were out of favour with the captain, who threatened to disrate them both if ever they fought again. We were cruising off the Gulf of Lyons, where sometimes it blows hard enought to blew the devil's horns off, though the gales never last very long. We were under close reefed fore- and main-top sails, storm stay-sail and trysail, when there was a fresh hand at the bellows, and the captain desired the officers of the watch, just before dinner to take in the fore-top sail. Not to disturb the watch below, the main-top men were ordered up forward to help the fore-top men of the watch; and I was of course aloft, ready to lie out on the lee yard-arm--when Wiggins, who had the watch below, came up in the top, not liking that Herbert should be at work in such weather without he being there too.

"'Tom,' says to me, 'I'll take the yard-arm.'

"'Very well,' say I, 'with all my heart; then I'll look to the bunt.'

"Just at that time there came on a squall with rain, which almost blinded us; the sail was taken in very neatly, the clew-lines, chock-a-block, bunt-lines and leech-lines well up, reef-tackles overhauled, rolling-tackles taut, and all as it should be. The men lied out on the yard, the squall wore worse and worse, but they were handing in the leech of the sail, when snap went one bunt-line, then the other; the sail flapped and flagged, till away went the leech-lines, and the men clung to the yards for their lives; for the sail mastered them, and they could do nothing. At last it split like thunder, buffeting the men on the yard-arms till they were almost senseless, until to windward it wore away into long coach whips, and the whole of the canvas left was at the lee yard-arm. The men laid in at last with great difficulty, quite worn out by fatigue and clinging for their existence; all but Wiggins, who was barred by the sail to leeward from making his footing good on the horse, and there he was, poor fellow, completely in irons, and so beaten by the canvas that he could hardly be said to be sensible. It takes a long while to tell all this, but it wasn't the work of a minute.

At last he made an attempt to get up by the lift, but was struck down, and would have been hurled overboard if it hadn't been that his leg fell over the horse, and there he was, head downwards, hanging over a raging sea, ready to swallow him up as soon as he dropt into it. As every one expected he would be beat off before any a.s.sistance could be given, you may guess that it was an awful moment to those below who were looking up at him, watching for his fall and the roll of the s.h.i.+p, to see if he fell clear into the sea, or was dashed to pieces in the fore-chains.

"I couldn't bear to see a fellow-creature, and good seaman in the bargain, in that state, and although the captain dare not _order_ any one to help him, yet there were one or two mids.h.i.+pmen hastening up the fore-rigging, with the intent, I have no doubt, of trying to save him (for mids.h.i.+pmen don't value their lives at a quid of tobacco), so I seizes the studding sail halyards, and runs up the topmast rigging, intending to go down by the lift, and pa.s.s a bowling knot round him before he fell, when who should I meet at the cross-trees but Tom Herbert, who s.n.a.t.c.hed the rope out of my hand, bawling to me through the gale, 'This is my business, Tom.'

"Down he goes by the lift, the remainder of the canvas flapped over him, and I seed no more until I heard a cry from all below, and away went Herbert and Wiggins, both together, flying to leeward just as the s.h.i.+p was taking her recovery to windward. Fortunately they both fell clear of the s.h.i.+p about two feet, not more, and as their fall was expected, they had prepared below. A master's mate, of the name of Simmonds, and the captain of the forecastle, both went overboard in bowling knots, with another in their hands, and in a minute or two they were all four on board again; but Herbert and were both senseless, and a long while coming to again. Well, now, what do you think was the upshot of it?

Why, they were the best friends in the world ever afterwards, and would have died for one another; and if one had a gla.s.s of grog from the officers for any little job, instead of touching his forelock and drinking it off to the officer's health, he always took it out of the gun-room, that he might give half of it to the other. So, d'ye see my boys, as I said before I began my yarn, that danger makes friends.

"'Tis said we vent'rous die hard, When we leave the sh.o.r.e, Our friends may mourn, lest we return To bless their sight no more.

But this is all a notion Bold Jack can't understand; Some die upon the ocean.

And some die upon dry land."

"And if we had tumbled, father, we should have just died betwixt and between, not water enough to float us. It would have been _woolez wous parlez wous_, plump in the mud, as you say sometimes."

"Why, yes, Tom. I've a notion that I should have been planted too deep ever to have struck," replied the old man, looking at his wooden stumps.

"Why, yes, father, _legs_ are _legs_, when you tumble into six foot of mud. How you would have _dibbled_ down, if your _daddles_ hadn't held on."

"Well then, Tom, recollect that you never _sell_ your father for a _lark_ again."

Tom laughed, and catching at the word, although used in a different sense, sung--

"Just like the _lark_ high poised in air.

"And so were you, father, only you didn't sing as he does, and you didn't leave your young one below in the nest."

"Ay, it is the young uns which prevent the old ones from rising in the world--that's very true, Tom. Holla, who have we got here? My service to you, at all events."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE ART OF HARD LYING MADE EASY, THOUGH I AM MADE VERY UNEASY BY HARD LYING--I SEND MY RULER AS A MISSIVE, TO LET THE PARTIES CONCERNED KNOW THAT I AM A REBEL TO TYRANNICAL RULE--I AM ARRAIGNED, TRIED, AND CONDEMNED WITHOUT A HEARING--WHAT I LOSE IN SPEECH IS MADE UP IN FEELING, THE WHOLE WOUND UP WITH MAGNANIMOUS RESOLVES, AND A LITTLE SOBBING.

It was the captain of the American schooner, from out of which we were then taking the casks of flour.

"We've no _sarvice_ in our country, I've a notion, my old bobtail roarer," said he. "When do you come alongside of my schooner, for tother lading with this raft of yours? Not to-night, I guess."