CHAPTER I.
Greeting.--The Broad District.--Hickling Broad.-- Felling a Tree.--Dodging the Swallows.-- Shooting the Crossbills.--The Boat-house.
With the same feeling of pleasure which one experiences when one writesto an old friend, I commence to write this new book, which I hope willbe read by many a boy friend.
It is very pleasant to an author to feel that he has a large circle ofacquaintances whom he has never seen, and who know him only through hisbooks. It should be his aim and endeavour to extend that circle offriends, and to increase the good feeling which they bear towards him.Therefore, my dear boys, I hope that after reading this book which I nowsubmit to your approval, you will conceive as affectionate a regard forme as I have for you.
This is a story of sport and adventure, natural history and science, andthe movers in it are three boys just like yourselves; and that you mayunderstand the better what they did, I shall first describe the scene oftheir exploits. It is the eastern part of Norfolk, and no better placecould be found as a field for the doings of three enterprising youngnaturalists and sportsmen. It is known as the "Broad District," and itconsists almost entirely of lake, river, and marsh. If we take Yarmouthon the sea-coast as the starting-point, and look inland, we shall seefirst of all a large tidal lake known as Breydon Water. From thisradiate three rivers going north-west, west, and south-west. The chiefof them is the Yare, which winds for thirty miles inward to the old cityof Norwich. On our right is the river Bure, or North River, which aftera very long and winding course leaves the marsh, and enters arichly-wooded country. To the south is the Waveney, a clear andbeautiful stream, which flows past Beccles and Bungay, two towns inSuffolk. All these rivers are slow of current, wide and navigable notonly for yachts, but for vessels of large burden, such as wherries,billy-boys, and small steamers. The banks of the rivers are fringed withtall reeds, and they flow through miles of level marsh, where, as far asthe eye can reach, there is nothing to be seen but the white sails ofthe yachts and the dark sails of the wherries, and occasional windmillswhich are used for pumping the water out of the drains into the rivers.In order to deepen the channel of the river for the purposes ofnavigation, the embankments have been raised so high that the surface ofthe water is much above the level of the drains which carry the wateroff the surrounding marshes, and so the water has to be pumped into theriver out of the drains by means of pumps set in action by windmills.
Here and there amid the wide extent of marsh are large lakes or lagoons,which are locally termed "broads." These are very numerous and many ofthem very large. Most of them are connected with one or other of therivers. Those on the Yare, are Surlingham and Rockland Broads; on theBure, or connected with it by long dykes, are Filby and Ormesby Broads,Walsham, Ranworth, Hoveton, Wroxham, Barton, Martham and HicklingBroads, and Heigham Sounds. All these broads are full of fish, largepike and perch, and shoals of enormous bream. They are all very shallow,and are surrounded by dense aquatic vegetation, reeds, rushes, flags andbulrushes, and these are the haunts of many rare birds, and swarm withwild-fowl.
The great characteristic of this part of the county is its utterloneliness and wildness, both qualities which are of especial interestto the sportsman and naturalist. As it is also the most eastern countyof England, it is the first to receive many of the rarer migrants ontheir passage to our shores, and more rare birds are caught there eachyear than in any other part of our "tight little island."
It is on the shores of Hickling Broad, and on a bright December day,the first of the Christmas holidays, that our story opens. A talllarge-limbed boy, about sixteen years of age, yellow-haired, andblue-eyed, stands with his hands in his pockets, looking over the wasteof waters on which the wavelets are dancing before a fresh breeze. Hisname is Frank Merivale, and he appears deep in thought.
The broad waters he is gazing over are lonely and deserted save foroccasional flights of wild-fowl, a marshman slowly pulling his boatacross, and a wherry (as a Norfolk sailing barge is called) beating towindward along the broad, making very slow tacks to and fro, the reasonof which would not be apparent to one who did not know the broad. Whydoes she not take long stretches which would take her more swiftly onher course? The reason is this, the broad is not more than three feetdeep all over, save for a narrow channel in the middle, which is markedout by posts at long intervals, and if the wherry forsook this channelshe would run aground.
The Norfolk wherries are of very peculiar build and graceful appearance.They are long, low, and shallow, rather flat-bottomed, but fine andsharp in the stem and stern, which gives them a good hold of the water.They have one mast, stepped well forward and weighted at the foot sothat it can be lowered to pass under bridges, and be easily raisedagain. This mast supports one immense sail, tanned black or red-brown.They sail wonderfully fast, even rivalling the yachts in their speed,and they can go very close to the wind. They are generally worked by twomen, who live and sleep in the little cabin astern.
We left Frank Merivale very much absorbed in thought. All at once ahappy thought seemed to strike him, for he started from his reverie, andbegan to execute a step something between a walk and a war-dance. Aclump of rushes put an untimely end to this by tripping him up, andcausing him to measure his length upon the ground. With philosophicalcomposure he picked himself up, and walked off, whistling merrily,towards a fir copse which stood upon the crest of a rising, lying above.We should say that while the flat marsh stretches between Hickling Broadand the sea, to the westward and inland the country is diversified withwoods, and slight elevations forming a very pretty sylvan district.Reaching the fir-wood Frank entered it, and after looking about for alittle time, he fixed upon a tall slender young larch-tree. He walkedround and round it, and examined it critically, finally lying down onhis back at its foot, and, with his eye close to its stem, glanced up itto see if it were perfectly straight. Satisfied on this point, he tookout a large clasp-knife, and marked the trunk with a huge cross. Then hecrossed the hedge and took his way through a large park, until he cameto a paddock and pleasant house nestling among some large lime-trees,and surrounded by croquet lawns and well-kept gardens. It was an oldhouse, built with many wings and projections and in many styles ofarchitecture, the most prominent of which was a heavily-timberedElizabethan style. Around the two principal sides of the house ran awooden veranda, which in summer was luxuriantly hung with roses.
This was Frank Merivale's home, and vaulting over the gate whichseparated the paddock from the lawn, he went into the house. Coming downthe broad staircase into the hall, he met his two sisters; the eldest, agirl of thirteen, was like her brother, blue eyed and yellow-haired,with a face full of fun and mischief. Her name was Mary. The youngersister bore the same strong family likeness and was barely eleven.
"Well, merry Mary Merivale," said Frank, "is the pater in?"
"Yes, Frank, he is in the library."
"That's all right; and where are you going?"
"We are going to dig pupae for you," answered Mary.
"Then you are a good little woman," replied Frank, catching her roundthe waist, and giving her a kiss.
"Have you got a mat to kneel upon, so as not to catch cold?"
"Yes, we have got a mat and a trowel, in this basket, and we mean to getyou a lot of moths. Don't we, Florrie?"
"Yes, ever so many."
Frank went along the passage, and entered the library. Mr. Merivale wasseated at the table writing. He was a pale and studious-looking man,with a very kind and genial expression of face. He owned a small estateon the shores of the Broad, and was a deep thinker and scholarly writer,writing books which were intended chiefly for college libraries. Helooked up as his son entered, and said,--
"Well, Frank, what is it?"
"Please father, my birthday is next week."
"I had not forgotten it, my boy."
"Well, sir, I suppose you are going to give me a present of some sort asusual, and I thought, if you don't mind, that I should like to choose mypresent thi
s time for myself."
"If you choose wisely, you shall have what you wish, Frank."
"Well, sir, all that I want is that you should let me have one of thestraight young larches by the Broad. I want to cut it down at once thatit may season by the spring."
"It is rather a strange birthday present, Frank, but you may have it, inaddition to the one your mother and I were about to get you, which wasMorris's _British Birds_."
"Oh, father, I am so glad. That is just the book I have been wanting."
Mr. Merivale did not ask his son what the larch-tree was for. He thoughtthat if Frank wished him to know he would have told him at once. He hada most perfect trust in his children, and he delighted to let them seethat he had this trust in them. Hence it was their pride to deserve theconfidence placed in them, and a happier family was not to be found inall Norfolk. Mr. Merivale supposed his son had good reasons for notmaking him a confidant in the matter of the larch-tree, so forbore toask him.
Frank quickly made his way to the outbuildings, where he obtained acouple of axes and a long rope. Laden with these he set off along athickly-hedged lane until he came to a cottage, set far back in anold-fashioned garden. Here lived Jimmy Brett, his great friend, a boyabout the same age as himself, who lived with his grandmother, Mrs.Brett, in this quiet little cottage. As Frank went up the garden walk hesaw Jimmy perched on a ladder, engaged in painting a long board, a footwide, which he had fixed up the whole length of the front of thecottage, just below the bed-room window.
"What on earth is that for, Jimmy?" cried Frank, in astonishment.
Jimmy turned round, revealing himself as a slight, pale-faced lad, withan eager and intelligent countenance, and replied--
"Well, you see, the swallows build in such great numbers in these wideold-fashioned eaves that they are rather a nuisance, and grandmotherdoes not like the mess they make of the door-steps and windows below,so I thought if I put a board all the way along beneath their nests itwould do away with the nuisance."
"That is a clever idea, Jimmy; but do you not think that the swallowswill build _below_ the board next year. They will think you put it therejust on purpose for them."
"I never thought of that, Frank," replied Jimmy, looking rather blank;"but now you mention it I think it is likely enough they will;" and byway of parenthesis I may say that next spring the swallows andhouse-martins did build under the new board in great numbers, and sofrustrated Jimmy's plan altogether.
"What are you going to do with those axes and that rope, Frank?"
"Come and see; but first finish your painting, while I go in and see thegrandmother."
As the two boys walked off to the fir-copse, Frank told his friend thathe meant to cut down the tree, but he would not tell him what it wasthat he wanted it for, and Jimmy's curiosity was provoked to a greatdegree.
When they reached the wood they proceeded to the tree which Frank hadmarked, and Jimmy was sent up to fasten the rope to the top of it. Thenwhile Frank took off his coat and applied the axe vigorously to thebottom of the tree, making the chips fly in all directions, Jimmy tookthe other end of the rope over the fence, and kept a steady pull uponit. At last the tree began to creak and groan, and then fell over with acrash. Jimmy then took the other axe, and the two began to lop off thebranches. This was a long job, and when it was finished they were verywarm and tired, and sat down to rest for a while on the fallen tree.
A clicking and cracking sound in the wood about them now became audibleto their quick ears. It might have been heard before had it not beendrowned by the noise of the axes. They looked up, and to their greatdelight they saw a small flock of birds larger than a green linnet, andwith plumage of red, brown, and yellow. They were flitting about thefir-trees, cutting off the fir-cones with their bills, and then holdingthem on the branches with their claws, and cracking them, and pickingout the seeds, producing at the same time the noise which had attractedthe attention of the boys.
"What are they?" exclaimed Jimmy; "their beaks are hooked, and crosseach other. I never saw birds like them before."
"They are crossbills, as sure as we are here!" said Frank, excitedly."Run to the boat-house as quick as you can, while I watch them, andbring the gun."
Brett sped off like a deer, while Frank followed the movements of thestrange birds with interest.
Jimmy returned with the gun, and quite out of breath.
"Now," said Frank, "from the difference in colour there are evidentlymales and females here, and we must get one of each; and we must do itwithout disturbing the others, as if we don't frighten them they maystay here and breed."
They watched for some time before they could get the desired chance, andthen two birds flew, toying with each other, to some distance from therest. They were evidently male and female. Frank put the gun to hisshoulder, a report rang through the wood, and both the crossbills, forsuch they were, fell dead to the ground.
Frank might have shot many more, but he was a thorough naturalist, and,as such, he disliked the idea of indiscriminate and useless slaughter.He had procured specimens sufficient, and he humanely let the others go.
"Now, Jimmy, we have got a prize. Crossbills are not seen every day. Letus go to the boat-house and skin them, and read something about them inour books."
The boat-house, which belonged to Mr. Merivale, stood at the edge of alittle bay of the Broad. It was a large, substantial structure,projecting out into the water, and having a large room above, approachedby a staircase. This had been appropriated by Frank as his "den," andhere it was that he and his friend transacted all their privatebusiness, held their natural history meetings, skinned and stuffedbirds, and kept their collection of birds' eggs and butterflies.
The Swan and Her Crew Page 3