Bevis Part 51

"Round and round," said Bevis. "Boom and splash and rumble,"--swinging his arm--"round and round, and never get any farther."

"Not an inch," said Mark. "Stop; there's Tom's gun." He meant the bird-keeper's.

"Pooh!" said Bevis, "that's rotten old rusty rubbish. Isn't there anybody we could borrow one of?"

"n.o.body," said Mark; "they're all so stupid and afraid."

"Donks."

"Awful donks! Let's sell our watches, and buy one," said Mark. "Only they would ask what we had done with our watches."

"I know," said Bevis, suddenly kicking up his heels, then standing on one foot and spinning round--"I know!"

"What is it! Quick! Tell me!"

"Make one," said Bevis.

"Make one?"

"A matchlock," said Bevis. "Make a matchlock. And a matchlock is quite proper, and just what they used to have--"

"But the barrel?"

"Buy an iron tube," said Bevis. "They have lots at Latten, at the ironmonger's; buy an iron pipe, and stop one end--"

"I see," said Mark. "Hurrah!" and up went his heels, and there was a wild capering for half a minute.

"The bother is to make the breech," said Bevis. "It ought to screw, but we can't do that."

"Ask the blacksmith," said Mark; "we need not let him know what it's for."

"If he doesn't know we'll find out somehow," said Bevis. "Come on, let's do it directly. Why didn't we think of it before."

They returned towards the boat.

"Just won't it be splendid," said Mark. "First, we'll get everything ready, and then get s.h.i.+pwrecked proper, and be as jolly as anything."

"Matchlocks are capital guns," said Bevis; "they're slow to shoot with, you know, but they kill better than rifles. They have long barrels, and you put them on a rest to take steady aim, and we'll have an iron ramrod too, so as not to have the bother of making a place to put the rod in the stock, and to ram down bullets to shoot the tigers or savages."

"Jolly!"

"The stock must be curved," said Bevis; "not like the guns, broad and flat, but just curved, and there must be a thing to hold the match; and just remind me to buy a spring to keep the hammer up, so that it shall not fall till we pull the trigger--it's just opposite to other guns, don't you see? The spring is to keep the match up, and you pull against the spring. And there's a pan and a cover to it--a bit of tin would do capital--and you push it open with your thumb. I've seen lots of matchlocks in gla.s.s cases, all inlaid gold and silver."

"We don't want that."

"No all we want is the shooting. The match is the bother--"

"Would tar-cord do?"

"We'll try; first let's make the breech. Take up the anchor."

Mark picked up the anchor, and put it on board. They launched the Pinta, and set sail homewards, Mark steering. As they were running right before the wind, the s.h.i.+p went at a great pace.

"That's the Mozambique," said Bevis, as they pa.s.sed through the strait where they had had to make so many tacks before.

"Land ho!" said Mark, as they approached the harbour. "We've had a capital sail."

"First-rate," said Bevis. "But let's make the matchlock."

Now that he had succeeded in tacking he was eager to go on to the next thing, especially the matchlock-gun. The hope of shooting made him three times as ready to carry out Mark's plan of the cave on the island.

After furling the sails, and leaving everything s.h.i.+p-shape, they ran home and changed their jackets, which were soaked.

Volume Two, Chapter X.

MAKING A GUN--THE CAVE.

Talking upstairs about the barrel of the gun, they began to think it would be an awkward thing to bring home, people would look at them walking through the town with an iron pipe, and when they had got it home, other people might ask what it was for. Presently Mark remembered that John Young went to Latten that day with the horse and cart to fetch things; now if they bought the tube, Young could call for it, and bring it in the cart and leave it at his cottage. Downstairs they ran, and up to the stables, and as they came near, heard the stamp of a cart-horse, as it came over. Mark began to whistle the tune,--

"John Young went to town On a little pony, Stuck a feather in his hat, And called him Macaroni."

"Macaroni!" said he, as they looked in at the stable-door. "Macaroni"

did not answer; the leather of the harness creaked as he moved it.

"Macaroni!" shouted Mark. He did not choose to reply to such a nickname.

"John!" said Bevis.

"Eez--eez," replied the man, looking under the horse's neck, and meaning "Yes, yes."

"Fetch something for us," said Mark.

"Pint?" said John laconically.

"Two," said Bevis.

"Ar-right," ["all right"] said John, his little brown eyes twinkling.

"Ar-right, you." For a quart of ale there were few things he would not have done: for a gallon his soul would not have had a moment's consideration, if it had stood in the way.

Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back When pewter tankard beckons to come on!

They explained to him what they wanted him to do.

"Have you got a grate in your house?" said Bevis.

"A yarth," said John, meaning an open hearth. "Burns wood."

"Can you make a hot fire--very hot on it?"

"Rayther. Boilers." By using the bellows. "What could we have for an anvil?"