CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE SALCOMBE BOATS.
"I am very, very sorry, sir," said Mrs Champernowne. "Of course I amonly a poor widow, and I let my apartments to gentlemen who come downfishing or to take walks for their health over the moor. But your staydown here has been something more than that. It has been a realpleasure to me ever since you and the young gentleman have been here.And not only am I very sorry that you are going away, but it has quiteupset me to hear that you are going sailing away over the stormy seas,searching for all kinds of strange things in foreign abroad."
"Oh, come, come, Mrs Champernowne," cried Uncle Paul, as he saw thepoor woman lift up her apron and put one corner to her eye. "Thereoughtn't to be anything in a naturalist's expedition to upset you."
"Ah, you don't know, sir," said Mrs Champernowne, speaking to UnclePaul, but shaking her head sadly at Rodd all the while. "I have hadthose who were near and dear to me go sailing away quite happy andjoyful like, just the same as you and Mr Rodney might, and never comeback again, for the sea is a very dangerous place."
"Oh, perhaps so, and of course there are exceptions," said Uncle Paul;"but as a rule people do come back safe."
"I don't know, sir," said the old lady, shaking her head sadly. "Thesea is very unruly sometimes. Hadn't you better take my advice, sir,and stop here? The moor's very big, and surely if you and the younggentleman look well you'll be able to find plenty of things to fill yourbottles, without going abroad."
"Can't be done, Mrs Champernowne," said Uncle Paul smiling. "Dartmoorisn't the West Coast of Africa, nor yet the Cape of Good Hope, so, muchas we have enjoyed being here, we shall have to say good-bye, and livein hopes of coming to see you again some day, for I haven't half workedout the moor, nor yet a hundredth part."
"I am very, very, very sorry," said the old lady again, "but no doubt,sir, you know best. When do you think of going, sir?"
"To-morrow morning, Mrs Champernowne. We can't let the grass growunder our feet, can we, Rodd?"
"No, uncle," was the reply; and the next morning the portmanteau waspacked, the fishing-rod and naturalist's nets tied up in a neat bundle,a light spring cart was drawn up at the door, and uncle and nephew weresoon on their way to the cross roads to take their chance of findingroom upon the Plymouth coach, which came within a few miles of thewidow's cottage.
They were fortunate, as it happened, and that evening they were safelyback at Uncle Paul's home, a pleasant little country house on the highgrounds overlooking the glorious harbour dotted with vessels, whichincluded several of the King's men-of-war, and within easy reach of thedocks.
"Ah," cried Uncle Paul that evening, as he strolled out into his garden,in company with Rodd, who was carrying a telescope that looked like asmall cannon; "that was a fine air up on the moor, my boy, but nothinglike this. Take a good long deep breath. Can't you smell the salt andthe seaweed? Doesn't it set you longing to be off?"
"Well--yes, uncle," replied the boy, smiling and screwing up his facetill it was all wrinkled about the eyes; "but I begin to be a bitafraid."
"Afraid, sir? What of?"
"That I shan't turn out such a good sailor as I should like to be."
"Why, what do you mean? Now, look here, Rodd; don't you tell me thatyou want to back out of going upon this trip."
"Oh no, uncle," cried the boy eagerly. "I want to go, of course!"
"But what are you afraid of?"
"Well, you see, uncle, coasting about with you in a fisherman's luggerfor a few days, and always keeping within sight of land, is one thing;going right away across the ocean is quite another."
"Well, sir, who said it wasn't?" cried Uncle Paul. "What then?"
"Suppose I turn ill, uncle?"
"Well, sir, suppose you do. Am I not doctor enough to put you rightagain?"
"Oh, I don't mean really ill, uncle. I mean sea-sick; and it would seemso stupid."
"Horribly; yes. You'd better be! Pooh! Rubbish! Nonsense! You talklike a great Molly. Now, no nonsense, Rodney. Speak out frankly andcandidly. You mean that now it has come to the point you think it tooserious, and you want to shirk?"
"I don't, uncle; I don't, indeed, and I do wish you wouldn't call meRodney!" cried the boy earnestly.
"I shall, sir, _as long as I live, if you play me false now_."
"Oh, uncle, what a shame!" cried the boy passionately. "Play you false!Who wants to play you false? I only wanted to tell you frankly that Ifelt a bit afraid of not being quite equal to the sea. I want to go,and I mean to go, and you oughtn't to jump upon me like this, and callme Rodney."
The boy stood before the doctor, flushed and excited, as he continued--
"You talk to me, uncle, as if you thought that I was a regular cowardand afraid of the sea."
"Then you shouldn't make me, sir. Who was it said afraid? Why, youhave been out with me for days together, knocking about, in pretty goodrough weather too."
"Yes, uncle, but that was all within sight of land."
"What's that got to do with it? It's often much rougher close in shore,especially on a rocky coast, than it is out on the main."
"I wish I hadn't spoken," cried Rodd passionately.
"So do I, sir."
"I couldn't help thinking I might turn very sick for days, and getlaughed at by the crew and called a swab."
"Oh," said Uncle Paul, laughing, "you talked as if you were afraid ofthe sea, and all the time, you conceited young puppy, you mean that youare afraid of the men."
"Well, yes, uncle, I suppose that that really is it."
"Humph! Then why didn't you say so, and not talk as if you, the firstof my crew that I reckoned upon, were going to mutiny and give it allup?"
"Give it up, uncle?" cried the boy. "Why, you know that I am longing togo."
"Ah, well, that sounds more like it, Pickle," said Uncle Paul, lookingsideways at the boy through his half-closed eyes. "Then I suppose it isall a false alarm."
"Of course it is, uncle," cried Rodd.
"Well, we may as well make sure, you know, because once we are startedit won't be long before we are out of sight of land, and there'll be noturning back."
"Well, I don't want to turn back, uncle."
"Then you shouldn't have talked as if you thought you might. Are youafraid now?"
"Not a bit, uncle. I am ready to start to-morrow morning."
"Ah, well, you won't, my boy, for there's everything to do first."
"Everything to do?"
"Of course. It's not like taking a few bottles and pill-boxes and a netor two to go up on the moor. Why, there's our ship to find first, andthen to get her fitted with our nets and sounding-lines and dredges andall sorts of odds and ends, with reserves and provisions for all that welose. Then there's to collect a crew."
"Oh, there'll be plenty of fellows down by the Barbican or hanging aboutdown there who will jump at going."
"Don't you be so precious sanguine, my fine fellow. This will be all sofresh that the men won't be so ready as you expect. The first thing aseaman will ask will be, `Where are we bound? What port?'"
"Well, uncle; tell them."
"Tell them what I don't know myself unless I say Port Nowhere on theHigh Seas! It will be all a matter of chance, Pickle, where we go andwhat we do, and I may as well say it now, if any one gets asking youwhat we are going to do, your answer is included in just these fewwords--We are going to explore."
Rodd nodded in a short business-like way.
"All right, uncle; I'll remember," he cried promptly. "Then you aregoing to hire a ship and engage a crew?"
"Well," said Uncle Paul thoughtfully, "we are landsmen--I mean landsmanand a boy--but we may as well begin to be nautical at once and callthings by the sea-going terms. No, my boy, I am not going to engage aship--too big."
"Why, you won't go all that way in a lugger, uncle?"
"Bah! Rubbish!" cried Uncle Paul shortly. "Here, give me hold of thatglass."
He took
the telescope, drew out the slide to a mark upon the tube whichindicated the focus which suited his eye, and then as he began slowlysweeping the portions of the harbour which were within reach he went ontalking.
"Isn't there anything between a lugger and a ship, sir? You know wellenough if you talk to a sailor about a ship he'd suppose you meant afull-rigged three-masted vessel."
"Yes, of course, uncle. And a barque is a three-master with a mizzenfore-and-aft rigged."
"That's better, my lad. But what do you mean by fore-and-aft rigged?"
"Well, like a schooner, uncle."
"Good boy! Go up one, as you used to say at school. Well, what do youthink of a large schooner for a good handy vessel that can be wellmanaged by a moderate crew?"
"Oh, I should think it would be splendid, uncle; and she'd sail veryfast."
"That depends on her build and the way she is sailed, my boy. Butthat's what I am thinking of having, Pickle."
"But with a good crew, uncle."
"Yes; I want the best schooner and the best crew that are to be had, myboy."
"But it will cost a lot of money, uncle."
"Yes, Pickle; but I am proud to say that the Government has not beenmean in that respect, and if what they have granted me is not enough, Ishall put as many hundreds as are required out of my own pocket to makeup the deficiency, so that in all probability I shan't have a penny toleave you, Pickle, when I die."
"When you die!" cried the boy scornfully. "Who wants you to die? Andwho wants you to leave me any money? I say, Uncle Paul, who's talkingnonsense now?"
"How dare you, sir!"
"Then you shouldn't say such things, uncle. Talking about dying! Therewill be plenty of time to talk about that in a hundred years."
"Well, that's a very generous allowance, Pickle, and if we get such aschooner as I want, with a clever crew, and you work hard with me, why,we ought to make a good many discoveries by that time. A hundred yearshence," continued Uncle Paul thoughtfully, as he apparently brought histelescope to bear upon a sloop of war whose white sails began to betinged with orange as the sun sank low; but all the time he was peeringout through the corners of his eyes to note the effect of his words uponhis nephew. "But let me see--a hundred years' time. Why, how mucholder will you be then, Pickle?"
"Why, just the same as you would, uncle; a hundred years older than I amnow. Pooh! You are making fun of me. But I say, uncle, be serious.How are you going to manage to get your schooner?"
"Set to work, and lose no time, my boy. But I am rather puzzled at thepresent moment, and I am afraid--"
Uncle Paul lowered the glass as he spoke, and turned his eyesthoughtfully upon his nephew, who had uttered a low peculiar sound.
"Of being sea-sick, uncle?" Uncle Paul smiled.
"I suppose that's what you call retaliation, young gentleman. Well, no,sir, I'm not afraid of that--at least, not much. I remember the firsttime I crossed the Channel that I was very ill, and every time I havebeen at sea since I have always felt that it would be unwise to boast;but I think both you and I can make our voyage without being troubled inthat way. But we won't boast, Pickle, for, as they say, we will notholloa till we are out of the wood. Let me see; isn't there an oldproverb something about a man not boasting till he taketh off hisarmour?"
"I think so, uncle, but I cannot recollect the words."
"Well, I don't want any armour, my boy, but I do want a well-foundschooner--a new one if I can get it; if not, one that will stand athorough examination; and I don't know that such a boat's to be got justnow it's wanted. There are plenty of ramshackle old things lying abouthere, but I want everything spick-and-span ready for the extra fittingout I shall give her. Copper-fastened, quick-sailing, roomy, and withgood cabin accommodation so that we can have a big workshop for the menwho help us, and a sort of study and museum for ourselves. Now, Pickle,where shall we have to go to find such a craft? Portsmouth--London?What about Southampton?"
"Southampton. Yes. Some fine yacht, uncle."
"No, boy. She'd be all mast and sails. Do well for a coaster, but Iwant an ocean-going craft, one that will bear some knocking about. Acargo boat whose hold one could partition off for stores. Now then?"
There was silence for about a minute, and then Uncle Paul spoke again.
"There, out with it, boy, at once. Don't waste time. Say you don'tknow."
"But I think I do know, uncle," cried the boy.
"Eh? What? Where? Tchah! Not you!"
"But what about one of those boats the French prisoners escaped in?"cried Rodd eagerly.
"Eh? What? One of those trim orange boats that go on the MediterraneanTrade, that they build at Salcombe?"
"Yes, uncle. Don't you remember that one we were looking at a fewmonths ago, that came in here after the storm, to get a new jibboom?"
"Why, of course I do, Pickle!" cried Uncle Paul eagerly. "Think ofthat, now! Why, I might have been fumbling about with a hammer formonths and not found what I wanted, and here are you, you impudent youngrascal, proving that you are not quite so stupid as I thought, for youhit the right nail on the head at once."
The Ocean Cat's Paw: The Story of a Strange Cruise Page 8