Mark persuaded him not to do this, but still he kept thedog-cart waiting several hours, till long after dinner.
They tried hard to get Jack to let them take the rifle with them,unsuccessfully, for he thought the authorities would not like it. Atlast Bevis deigned to get up, and they were driven home, for in hissullen mood Bevis would not even touch the reins, nor let Mark. He wasvery much offended. The idea of resentment against Ted had neverentered his mind. Ted was his equal for one thing, in age.
But he hated to be looked at with a severe countenance as if he had beena rogue and stolen sixpence by the authorities against whom he did notfeel that he had done anything. He burned against them as theconspirators abroad burn with rage against the government which rulesthem. They were not Ted, and equal; they had power and used it overhim. Bevis was wrong and very unjust, for they were the tenderest andkindest of home authorities.
At home there was a dessert waiting on the table for them, and someBurgundy. The Burgundy, a wine not much drunk in the country, had beengot a long time ago to please Bevis, who had read that Charles the Boldwas fond of and took deep draughts of it. Bevis fancied he should likeit, and that it would make him bold like Charles. Mamma poured him outa glassful, Mark took his, and said "Thank you."
Bevis drank in silence.
"Aren't you glad to come home?" said mamma.
"No, _that_ I'm not," said Bevis, and marched off up into thebench-room. Mamma saw that Mark wanted to follow, so she kissed him,recollecting that he had ventured through the storm after Bevis, andtold him to do as he liked.
"The sails ought to be finished by now," said Bevis, as Mark came up.
"Yes," said Mark, "they're sure to be. But you know I can't go."
"You ought to fetch them," said Bevis, "you're lieutenant; captainsdon't fetch sails." He was ready for any important exertion, but he hada great idea of getting other people to do these inferior things forhim.
"I can't go," said Mark, "Frances hates me."
"O! very well," said Bevis savagely, and ready to quarrel with anybodyon the least pretext. The fact was, though resentful, he did not feelquite certain that he approved of his own conduct to his mother. Hecould have knocked any one down just to recover confidence. He pushedby Mark, slammed the door, and started to get the sails.
Frances laughed when she saw him. "Ah!" she said, "Mark did not care tocome, did he?" She brought out the sails nicely hemmed--they had beenready some days--and made them into a parcel for him.
"So you ran away from the battle," she said.
"I didn't," said Bevis rudely.
"You sailed away--floated away."
"Not to run away."
"Yes, you did. And you were called Caesar."
She liked to tease him, being fond of him; she stroked his short goldencurls, pinched his arm, kissed him, taunted him, and praised him; walkedwith him as he went homewards, asked him why he did not offer her hisarm, and when he did, said she did not take boys' arms--_boys_ withemphasis--till he grew scarlet with irritation. Then she petted him,asked him about the battle, and said it was wonderful, and he must showher over the battlefield. She made him promise to take her for a sail,and looked so delicious Bevis could not choose but smile.
She had her hat in her hand, such a little hand and so white, like aspeck of sunshine among shadows. Her little feet peeped out among thegrass and the blue veronica flowers. Her rounded figure, not too tinyat the waist, looked instinct with restless life, buoyant as if shefloated. The bright light made her golden brown hair gleam. She liftedher long eyelashes, and looked him through and through with her greyeyes. Delicate arched eyebrows, small regular features, pouting lips,and impudent chin.
"You're very little," said Bevis, able to speak again. "I believe Icould lift you over the stile."
She was little--little and delicious, like a wild strawberry, daintilytinted, sweet, piquant, with just enough acid to make you want somemore, rare, and seldom found.
"As you are so impertinent," said she, "I shall not come any farther."
Bevis got over the stile first to be safe, then he turned, and said,--
"Jack will have you some day, and he's big, and he'll manage you."
"O!" said Frances, dropping her hat, "O!" Her little foot was putforward, she stood bolt upright with open lips. Scorn, utter, complete,perfect scorn was expressed from head to foot. Jack manage her! Theidea! Before she could recover her breath, Bevis, who had immediatelystarted running, was half across the next field.
Next morning they set to work to fix up the blue boat for sailing, andfirst stepped the mast and wedged it tight with a chip. A cord camedown each side aslant to the gunwale, and was fastened there--these werethe backstays to strengthen the mast when the wind blew rough. Thebowsprit was lashed firmly at the bow, and the sheets or cords to workthe foresail put through the staples, after which the tiller was fixedon instead of the lines. They had two sails--mainsail (without a boom)and foresail. Bevis once thought of having a topsail, but found it veryawkward to contrive it without the ropes (they always called their cordsropes) becoming entangled.
The rigging and sails were now up, and Mark wanted to unfurl them andsee how they answered, but Bevis, who was in a sullen mood, would notlet him, till everything was completed. They had to put in the ballast,first bricks placed close together on the bottom, then two small bags ofsand, and a large flat stone, which they thought would be enough. Allthis occupied a great deal of time, what with having to go backwards andforwards to the house for things and tools that had been forgotten, andthe many little difficulties that always arise when anything new isbeing done.
Nothing fits the first time, and it all has to be done twice. So thatwhen the last thing of all, the oyster-barrel with the tin canisterinside, was put on board, it was about four in the afternoon. When theybegan to push the boat off the ground and get her afloat, they foundthat the wind had sunk. In the morning it had blown steadily from thewestward, and busy at their work they had not noticed that after noon itgently declined. They pushed off, and rowed a hundred yards, so as tobe out of the shelter of the trees on the shore, but there was no morebreeze there than in the corner which they called the harbour.
The surface was smooth, and all the trees were reflected in it. Bevishad been sullen and cross all day, and this did not improve his temper.It was very rare for him to continue angry like this, and Mark resentedit, so that they did not talk much. Bevis unfurled the sails andhoisted them up. The foresail worked perfectly, but the mainsail wouldnot go up nor come down quickly. It was fastened to the mast by ten ortwelve brass rings for travellers, and these would not slip, though theylooked plenty large enough. They stuck, and had to be pushed by handbefore the sail could be hoisted.
This was not at all proper, sails ought to go up and down easily andwithout a moment's delay, which might indeed be dangerous in a squall.Bevis pulled out his knife, and cut a number of them off, leaving onlythree or four, and the sail then worked much better. Next they triedreefing, they had put in two rows, but when the second was taken in thesail looked rather shapeless, and Bevis angrily cut off the second row.He told Mark to row back while he furled, and Mark did so. After theyhad fastened the boat by the painter to the willow root, and picked uptheir tools, they went homewards, leaving the rigging standing ready foruse on the morrow.
"There's two things now," said Mark, "that ought to be done."
"What's that?" crossly.
"There ought to be an iron ring and staple to tie the ship to--a shipought not to be tied to a root."
"Get a ring, then."
"And another thing--two more things."
"That there are not."
"That there are. You want a bowl to bale the water out, the waves aresure to splash over."
"That's nothing."
"Well, then," said Mark savagely, "you've forgotten the anchor."
Bevis looked at him as if he could have smashed him, and then went upinto the bench-room without a word.
"You're a bear," shouted Mark from the bottom of the staircase. "Ishan't come;" and he went to the parlour and found a book. For theremainder of the day, whenever they met, in a minute they were off at atangent, and bounded apart. Bevis was as cross as a bear, and Markwould not conciliate him, not seeing that he had given him the leastreason. At night they quarrelled in their bedroom, Bevis grumbling atMark for throwing his jacket on the chair he generally used, and Markpitching Bevis's waistcoat into a corner.
About ten minutes after the candle was out, Bevis got up, slipped on histrousers and jacket, and went downstairs barefoot in the dark.
"Glad you're gone," said Mark.
Bevis
Bevis: The Story of a Boy Page 43