CHAPTER TEN.
UGLY--PLOVER, SNIPE, AND RABBIT SHOOTING--A CRUISE PROPOSED.
Recounting that last event reminds me of a well-beloved character in ourcape days--one, too, that was destined to play an important part in ourlittle drama.
Ugly was his name; Trusty Greatheart it should have been.
Ugly was a clipped-eared, setter-tailed, short-legged, long-haired,black-nosed, bright-eyed little mongrel. In limiting his ancestry to noparticular aristocratic family, he could prove some of the blood ofmany. There were evident traces of the water-spaniel, the Skye terrier,and that most beautiful of all the hound family--the beagle.
I do not know what education Ugly may have had in his earlier days, butI believe it to have been limited, though his acquirements were great.I believe him to have been a canine genius. He was as ready on thewater as on the land. His feats of diving and swimming were remarkable;and a better rabbit-dog and more sagacious, courageous watchdog neverlived. As to the languages, I will acknowledge he could speak none; buthe understood English perfectly, and never failed to construe rightlyany of Mr Clare's Latin addresses--much better than ever Walter coulddo. Indeed, Mr Clare's commands to and conversations with Ugly werealways in Latin.
Of his rare sagacity and unbounded affection there are proofs to befurnished further on in this narrative.
Harry Higginson and Walter had guns, and they alone of our number wereallowed to use them. That exclusion never caused me any regrets, nor doI think it troubled Alfred Higginson, but it was a constant pain toDrake. He loved a gun, and his most golden dream of manhood's happinesswas the possession of a good fowling-piece. The prohibition of ourparents, however, was so stringent in this particular that poor Drakenever sighted along the bright barrels nor even touched the well-oiledstocks but once while we were at the cape.
There they stood, always ready, in a corner of our attic--where Drake,Alf, and I could not touch them, but ready at any time for the pleasureof Walter and Harry.
Walter was an accomplished shot, and Harry was not a bad one. Harry hadnot had the training of Walter, whom my father had taught--notcommencing with stationary objects, but with targets thrown in the air,and small, slow-winged birds as they flitted near the ground. My fatherhad at first made him practise for a long time without caps, powder, orshot, merely in quickly bringing the stock close to the shoulder, andgetting the eye directly behind the breech. When proficiency in thathad become a mechanical habit, the gun was loaded, and then commencedthe practice of shooting at moving objects. As the art of bringing thegun properly to the cheek had been so thoroughly mastered as to requireno effort nor attention, Walter could, when an object was thrown up,direct all his care to bringing the muzzle of the piece--the sight--directly on that object. My father's reason for teaching him first toshoot at flying marks was to prevent the habit of dwelling long on anaim--that habit of following or _poking_ at the bird which ruins goodshooting, and prevents the possibility of becoming a good snap shot.And so, afterwards, Drake and I were taught; and boys who are learningto shoot will find, that by remembering and practising the method I havedescribed, instead of commencing by taking long, deliberate aims atstationary objects, they will get ahead surprisingly fast, faroutstripping those who learn by the latter way.
In our rambles about the cape, Ugly soon displayed his talent forrabbit-hunting. He would smell where Bunny had been wandering andfollow the track until he started Miss Long-ears from her covert, andthen the fun began--the rabbit leaping off in frightened haste, runningfor life, winding and dodging about over the swells of the sparse grasshillocks, while Ugly, mad with excitement, spread his long, low bodydown to the chase. How the little fellow would put in his nose close tothe ground, staunch on the trail as the best-blooded hound, and makingthe air ring with his sharp but musical bark! I tell you that was fun!Ugly always stuck to his game until he had run it to its burrow. He hadnot the speed to overtake it.
The summer is not the proper season for rabbit-shooting; so Walter, whowas never to be tempted by the best chance of killing game even a dayout of season, would not permit either Harry or himself to shoot at theobjects of Ugly's furious energy until it was legitimate. That conductof Walter and Harry was beyond Ugly's comprehension. I have often seenhim try to understand it. The chase having ended as usual in a safeburrow, I have noticed Ugly--who, after a very short experience, hadlearned not to waste his time in vain digging--turn toward us with awaddling, disconsolate trot, and having approached a few rods, stop andsit down to revolve the puzzle over in his mind. He would look wherethe rabbit had housed himself, then drop his head, cock up an ear, andcast an inquiring glance toward us, as much as to say: "Why, _do_ tellUgly why you did not shoot that old lap-ears? Ah!" That operation hewould repeat several times before rejoining us, and when he had come uphe would cock his head first one side and then the other, and look intoour faces with most beseeching questioning in those great, keen, browneyes of his. Then he would hang behind on our way home, evidentlygreatly distressed at his ignorance.
Never mind, good Ugly! I believe you were fully rewarded for weeks ofbewilderment when the time did come for knocking over bunnies.
One afternoon, in returning from one of those rambles, we met our salttute hurrying towards us in a great state of haste and perspiration.When near enough for his hoarse bass voice to reach us, he hailed--
"Well, there you are, boys, at last! I have been hunting for you allover the cape for the last hour. Ah! Ugly, boy, are you glad to seethe old Captain trudging over the rabbit-ground? Eh? shaggy boy! Andyou have been running the bunnies till you are blown, and your masterswould not shoot--eh? Well, no matter; the Captain shall bring hismarline-spike along some day, and help you bag them. But, myaffectionate pup, do you take a turn in that tail, or you'll wag it offsome windy day."
So Ugly sat down--a long, red, wet tongue hanging from the side of hismouth--and whipped the grass between the Captain's boots with thatrestless tail until we came up.
"Why, Captain Mugford," said Walter, "I did not know you ever wanted_us_."
"No? Well, I do though, just now. You see, boys, as to-morrow will beSaturday, with every prospect of fair weather and a good breeze, Ithought we might go on a cruise--start early, get our meals on board,run off to the fishing-grounds, and make a voyage of generalexploration. And to do this we must get our traps aboard this evening,and see that everything is in order on board the _Youth_."
"Good! nothing could suit us better, Captain. I'll run to the housewith the guns," said Harry, "and we can all go at once off to the_Youth_."
"Mr Clare," continued Captain Mugford, "can't go with us, he says, butmust walk over to Q---town and spend the day. That's a pity, for Icalculated on having a capital time all together, on a voyage like thisone we propose."
"Well, we boys," said Walter, "will ask him this evening to put off hisvisit. Perhaps he may change his mind."
When Harry returned we went down to our cutter, all in great spirits onaccount of the fun proposed for the next day.
Getting on board, we mopped and swabbed her out well, overhauled theropes and sails, and hauled down the pennant to take home with us forJuno to mend where it had frayed out on the point. That work beingcompleted, we went to the house for such provisions as we should want onour excursion. Juno put up a large supply for one day--ground coffee,eggs, biscuit, cold mutton, a cold turkey, and several currant and applepies, besides butter, salt, etcetera--and Clump conveyed it down to the_Youth_ for us on a wheelbarrow.
The provisions were carefully stowed in the forepeak, and everythingbeing arranged, we appointed Ugly to act as a guard over our craftduring the night.
Harry briefly explained it to him. "Look here, Ugly, you are to stayhere to-night and look after the things. Of course you are not to comeashore or leave duty for a minute. We shall be down early in themorning. Be ready to receive us with proper ceremonies, for we are offon a cruise, old boatswain, to-morrow. Look, Ugly; I put yo
ur supper inthis stern locker. Do you see?"
Ugly was at first rather disappointed at the prospect of being separatedfrom us for the night, but as Harry's harangue proceeded and he began tocomprehend the honour of the duty required aboard ship, he bristled upand grew as stiff and important as his inches would allow. He turnedhis nose to watch where the supper was placed, and then walked forwardand took a seat on the bow assuming a comical air of "captaincy;" sopantomimic was it that Captain Mugford laughed aloud, and said: "Welldone, Ugly; where, my fine fellow, did you learn quarterdeck airs?"
"Good-night, Captain Ugly," we cried, as we pushed for the shore in thepunt. "Good-night, boy; can't you say something, Captain Gruff?"
At which address Ugly rose up and, putting his forefeet on the larboardgunwale, barked three loud, clear notes, and we gave three laughingcheers as he returned to his post by the bowsprit.
Before going to bed that night, I went out in the kitchen to put a pairof my shoes to dry, and found Clump and Juno, as usual in the evenings,smoking and dozing over the fire.
Wondering at the amount of comfort these old folk seemed to find intobacco, I asked Clump why he smoked so much.
"Fur constellation, Massa Bob--fur constellation; dat's ol," heanswered.
"Oh, that is it, Clump--consolation, eh? Well, I must get a pipe sometime and try it," I said.
"No, Massa Bob," joined in Juno, who was knocking out the ashes from herpipe on the head of the fire-dog--"no, Massa Bob you'se munno 'moke.'Spects, ef you'se do, you find de way tur constollaton, dat ole Clumptalk of, cum tru much tribble-laison--he! he! he!"
I had to laugh at the old woman's wit. As for Clump, he rubbed hisshins and "yaw-ha'd" over his wife's speech for five minutes.
As I was going off to bed, Juno called me back in a hesitating way, andsaid in a low, frightened voice: "Massa Bob, sum-how dis ole woman ees'feared 'bout ter'morrow. You'se gwine sure?"
"Of course, Juno," I replied. "And what are you afraid of? I would notstay at home for ten pounds."
"Dis chile's sorry--sorry," she continued, "but de Lor' ees my strong'an my sheel." She was speaking very slowly, and had bent over the fireto rake the ashes together. She went on muttering some more of theBible texts she always called on in any perplexity, until a new ideaflashed to her from some uncovered ember, and she turned quickly,laughing in a low, shrill way, "He! he! he! woy'se ole Juno afeer'd?He! he! he! 'spects it on'y debbil dat has tole lies to dis poor olenigger when she's 'sleep."
Captain Mugford: Our Salt and Fresh Water Tutors Page 10