CHAPTER TWO.
IN WHICH MORE IMPORTANT PERSONAGES ARE INTRODUCED, AND DISPLAY THEIRCHARACTERS BY THEIR ACTIONS MORE OR LESS.
The "Three Jolly Tars" was one of those low taverns where seamen werewont to congregate--not _because_ it was a low tavern, but because therewas no other sort of tavern--high or low--in that neighbourhood.
The world (that is to say, the delicately-nurtured and carefully-tendedworld) is apt to form erroneous opinions in regard to low taverns, anddegradation, and sin in general,--arising from partial ignorance andabsolute inexperience, which it is important that we should correct inorder that the characters of our story may not be falsely judged. Godforbid that it should be for a moment supposed that we have a word tosay in favour of low taverns. Our aim just now is, not to considerthese, but, to convince the reader, if possible, that every man whoenters one of them is not necessarily a lost or utterly depravedcreature.
It is undoubtedly true that these low taverns are moral pig-sties. Nay,we owe an apology to the pigs for the comparison. _Sties_ appear to beplaces of abode suited to the nature and tastes of their occupants, andthe grumps who inhabit them seem not only to rejoice in them (for thisalone would be no argument, inasmuch as the same may be affirmed of menwho rejoice in low taverns), but to be utterly incapable of higherenjoyment out of them. Let a pig out of his stye, afford him everyconceivable opportunity of intellectual and physical improvement, and hewill carefully search out the nearest mudhole--unhappy until he findsit--will thrust not only his nose but his body into it, and will findsupreme enjoyment in wallowing in the mire; and no blame to him forthis; he is grumpish by nature. Yes, a low tavern is beneath the levelof a pig-stye!
Nevertheless, as it is possible that, _for a time_, man may, throughsin, or circumstances, or both, be reduced to such a condition as totake shelter in a pig-stye, without exposing himself to the charge ofbeing a pig; so, it is possible that a man may frequent a low tavern,_not_ without detriment, but, without becoming thereby worthy of beingclassed with the lowest of the low. Do not misunderstand us, gentlereader. We do not wish in the slightest degree to palliate the coarselanguage, the debasement, the harsh villainy, which shock the virtuouswhen visiting the haunts of poverty. Our simple desire is to assure thesceptical that goodness and truth are sometimes found in strangequestionable places, although it is undoubtedly true that they do notdeliberately search out such places for an abode, but prefer a pureatmosphere and pleasant companionship if they can get it.
It must not be supposed, then, that our friend John Bax--sometimescalled "captain," sometimes "skipper," not unfrequently "mister," butmost commonly "Bax," without any modification--was a hopeless castaway,because he was found by his friend Guy Foster in a room full of carelessfoul-mouthed seamen, eating his bread and cheese and drinking his beerin an atmosphere so impregnated with tobacco smoke that he couldscarcely see, and so redolent of gin that he could scarcely smell thesmoke!
In those days there were not so many sailors' homes and temperancecoffee-houses as there are now. In the locality about which we writethere were none. If Jack wanted his lunch or his dinner he found thelow tavern almost the only place in which he could get it comfortably.Tobacco smoke was no objection to him;--he rather liked it. Swearingdid not shock him;--he was used to it. Gentle folk are apt to err heretoo. Being _shocked_ at gross sin does not necessarily imply goodnessof heart; it implies nothing more than the being unused to witness grosssin. Goodness of heart _may_ go along with this capacity of beingshocked, so, equally, may badness of heart; but neither of them isimplied by it.
What a grand thing is truth--simple abstract truth! and yet how littledo we appreciate it in regard to the inconceivably important matter of_reasoning_. We analyse our chemicals and subject them to the severesttests in order to ascertain their true properties;--truth is all we aimat; but how many of us can say that we analyse our thoughts and subjectour reasoning to the test of logic in order simply to ascertain _thetruth_.
"Smoke for ever! I say, Bill, open that there port a bit, else we'll bechoked," cried a stentorian voice, as Guy entered the little apartment,where some dozen of noisy sailors were creating the cloud, which was alittle too strong for them.
For some moments Guy glanced round inquiringly, unable to pierce the dimcurtain that enshrouded everything, as with a veil of dirty gauze.
"Lost your reckoning, I guess," drawled a Yankee skipper.
"Never mind, let go your anchor, my lad," cried a voice from the densestquarter of the smoke, "it's not a bad berth, and good holdin' ground."
"What'll you take to drink, my boy, supposin' you gits the offer?"inquired another man, giving him a facetious poke in the ribs.
"Is John Bax here?" inquired Guy.
"Hallo, messmate--here you are, port your helm and heave a-head--steady!rocks to leeward; starboard hard! ah, I knew you'd never clear theserocks without touchin'," said Bax, as his young friend tripped overthree or four spittoons, and plunged into the corner from which thesailor's deep bass voice issued. "There now, sit down; what'll youhave?"
"Nothing, Bax; what a horrible hole to feed in! Couldn't you come outand talk with me in the fresh air?"
It must indeed have been a wonderfully impure place when Guy couldventure by contrast to speak of the air outside as being fresh.
"Couldn't do it, my lad," replied Bax, with his mouth full. "I haven'thad a bit since six o'clock this morning, and I'm only half through."
The fact was evident, for a large plate of biscuit and cheese stood onthe small table before the seaman, with a tumbler of hot gin and water.So Guy sat down, and, observing that the waiter stood at his elbow,ordered half a pint of stout. Guy did not drink spirits, but he had noobjection to beer, so he took occasion to remonstrate with Bax on histendency to drink gin, and recommended beer instead, as it would "do himmore good." It did not occur to Guy that a young man in robust healthdoes not require physical good to be done to him at all, beyond whatfood, and rest, and exercise can achieve, and that, therefore,artificial stimulant of any kind is unnecessary!
"Skipper ahoy!" shouted, a gruff voice in the doorway.
"Ay, ay!" cried several of the party in reply.
"Is John Bax in this here port?"
"Here you are," replied the man in request, "port your helm, old boy!rocks on the lee bow, look out!"
"Steady, so," said a fat burly seaman, as he steered in obedience tothese sailing directions, and finally "cast anchor" beside our twofriends.
"How are ye, Captain Bluenose?" said Bax, holding out his hand.
"Same to you, lad," replied the Captain, seizing the offered hand in hisown enormous fist, which was knotty and fleshy, seamed with old cuts andscars, and stained with tar. "Hallo! Guy, is this you?" he added,turning suddenly to the youth. "Why, who'd 'a thought to see _you_here? I do b'lieve I han't seen ye since the last time down at thecoast. But, I say, Guy, my boy, you han't took to drinkin', have ye?"
"No, Captain," said Guy, with a smile, "nothing stronger than beer, andnot much of that. I merely came here to meet Bax."
Captain Bluenose--whose name, by the way, had no reference to his nose,for that was small and red--scratched his chin and stared into vacancy,as if he were meditating.
"Why, boy," he said at length, "seems to me as if you'd as good cause tosuspec' me of drinkin' as I have to suspec' you, 'cause we're both_here_, d'ye see? Howsever, I've been cruisin' after the same craft,an' so we've met, d'ye see, an' that's nat'ral, so it is."
"Well, and now you have found me, what d'ye want with me?" said Bax,finishing the bread and cheese, and applying to the gin and water.
"Shipmet, I'm goin' home, and wants a berth a-board the `Nancy,'" saidBluenose.
"Couldn't do it, Captain," said Bax, shaking his head, "'gainst rules."
"I'll go as a hextra hand--a suppernummerary," urged the Captain.
"Why, Captain," said Guy, "is it not strange that I should have comehere to make the very same request? Come, Bax, yo
u're a good fellow,and will take us both. I will guarantee that my uncle will not findfault with you."
"Ah, that alters the case," said Bax, "if you choose to take theresponsibility on your own shoulders, Guy, you're welcome to the bestberth a-board the old `Nancy.' D'ye know, I've a fondness for that oldcraft, though she is about as unseaworthy a schooner as sails out o' theport of London. You see, she's the only craft bigger than a Deal luggerthat I ever had command of. She's my first love, is the old `Nancy,'and I hope we won't have to part for many a day."
"Quite right, young man," said Captain Bluenose, nodding his headapprovingly, and filling his pipe from a supply of tobacco he alwayscarried in the right pocket of his capacious blue waistcoat. TheCaptain gazed with a look of grave solemnity in the manly countenance ofthe young sailor, for whom he entertained feelings of unboundedadmiration. He had dandled Bax on his knee when he was a baby, hadtaught him to make boats and to swim and row when he became a boy, andhad sailed with him many a time in the same lugger when they put off inwild storms to rescue lives or property from ships wrecked on the famousGoodwin Sands.
"Quite right, young man," repeated the Captain, as he lighted his pipe,"your sentiments does you credit. W'en a man's got his first love, d'yesee, an' finds as how she's all trim and ship-shape, and taut, and wellballasted, and all that sort o' thing, stick to her to the last, throughthick and thin. That's wot _I_ say, d'ye see? There's no two waysabout it, for wot's right can't be wrong. If it can, show me how, andthen I'll knock under, but not before."
"Certainly not, Captain," cried Bax, laughing, "never give in--that's mymotto."
"There," said Bluenose, gravely, "you're wrong--'cause why? You're notright, an' w'en a man's not right he ought always to give in."
"But how is a fellow to know when he's right and when he's wrong?" askedBax.
"Con-sideration," said Bluenose.
"Bravo! Captain," cried Guy, with a laugh, "if it be true that `brevityis the soul of wit,' you must be the wittiest fellow on Deal beach."
"I dun-know," retorted the Captain, slowly, "whether it's the soul orthe body o' wit, an' wot's more, I don't care; but it's a fact, d'yesee, that consideration'll do it; least-wise if consideration won't,nothin' will. See now, here it is,"--(he became very earnest at thispoint),--"w'en a thing puzzles people, wot does people do? why, theybegins right off to talk about it, an' state their opinions afore theyhan't got no opinions to state. P'raps they takes the puzzler up by themiddle an' talks wild about that part of it; then they give a look atthe end of it, an' mayhap they'll come back and glance at the beginnin',mayhap they won't, and then they'll tell you as grave as owls thatthey've made up their minds about it, and so nail their colours to themast."
At this stage in the elucidation of the knotty point, Bluenose observedthat his pipe was going out, so he paused, pulled at it vigorously for afew seconds, and then resumed his discourse.
"Now, lads, wot _ought_ you for to do w'en you've got hold of a puzzler?Why, you ought to sit down and consider of it, which means you shouldbegin at the beginnin'; an' let me tell you, it's harder to find thebeginnin' of a puzzler than p'raps you suppose. Havin' found thebeginnin', you should look at it well, and then go on lookin', inch byinch, and fut by fut, till you comes to the end of it; then look itback, oncommon slow, to the beginnin' again, after which turn it outsidein, or inside out,--it don't much matter which way,--and go it all overonce more; after which cram your knuckles into yer two eyes, an' sit forhalf-an-hour (or three-quarters, if it's tremendous deep) withoutmovin'. If that don't do, and you ha'nt got time to try it over again,give in at once, an haul your colours down, but on no occasion wotivernail them to the mast,--'xceptin' always, w'en you're cocksure thatyou're right, for then, of coorse, ye can't go far wrong."
This little touch of philosophy convinced Bax that if he did not wish tosit there half the night, the sooner he changed the subject the better,so he called the waiter, and paid his bill, saying to his companionsthat it was time to go aboard if they wanted a snooze before trippingthe anchor.
"What have you had, sir?" said the waiter, turning to Bluenose.
The man said this with a sneer, for he knew that the captain had takennothing since he entered the house, and was aware, moreover, that he wasa water-drinker.
"I've had nothin'," replied the Captain, "nor don't want any, thank'ee."
"Oh! beg pardon, sir," the waiter bowed and retired impressively.
"The house couldn't keep goin' long with _some_ customers," stammered arough-looking, half-tipsy fellow who had overheard these remarks.
"Might do something for the good of the house," said another, who wasequally drunk.
"Who bade _you_ put in your oar?" cried the first speaker fiercely, forhe had reached that condition of intoxication which is well known as thefighting stage. The other man was quite ready to humour him, so, almostbefore one could understand what had been said, a savage blow was givenand returned, oaths and curses followed, and in two seconds one of thecombatants had his opponent by the throat, threw him on his back, withhis neck over the fender and his head thrust into the ashes.
Instantly the room was a scene of wild confusion, as some of the friendsof both men endeavoured to separate them, while others roared in drunkenglee to "let 'em have fair play, and fight it out."
The result of this quarrel might have been serious had not Bax thrustthe yelling crowd aside, and, exerting to the utmost the extraordinarymuscular power with which he had been endowed, tore the combatantsasunder by main force, and hurled them violently to opposite sides ofthe room.
"Shame on you; lads," said he, "can you not drink your grog withoutquarrelling about nothing?"
The towering size and the indignant look of Bax, as he said this, weresufficient to quell the disturbance, although some of the more irasciblespirits could not refrain from grumbling about interference, and theYankee roundly asserted that "before he'd go into a public, and sit downand smoke his pipe without doin' somethin' for the good o' the 'ouse,he'd like to see himself chawed up pretty slick, he would."
"Waiter a-hoy!" shouted Captain Bluenose sternly, on hearing this.
"Yes-sir."
"Bring me a tumbler o' gin and a pot o' _cold water_."
"Tum'ler--o'--gin--sir--an'--a--por--o'--col' wa'r, sir? Yes--sir."
The waiter stopped suddenly and turned back.
"_Mixed_, sir?"
"No, _not_ mixed, sir," replied Bluenose, with a look and tone ofwithering sarcasm; "contrairywise, wery much separated."
When the gin and water were placed on the table, the Captain quietlytook up the former and cast it, glass and all, under the grate, afterwhich he raised the pot of water to his lips, and, looking round on thecompany with a bland smile, said:--
"There, I've took somethin' for the good of the house, and now, lads,I'll drink to your better health and happiness in my favourite tipple,the wich I heartily recommend to _you_."
Bluenose drained the pot, flung a half-crown on the table, and swaggeredout of the house with his hands deep in the pockets of his roughpea-jacket.
The fact was that the worthy Captain felt aggrieved, and his spirit wassomewhat ruffled at the idea of being expected to drink in a house wherehe had oftentimes, for years past, regaled himself with, and expendedhis money upon, bread and cheese and ginger-beer!
The Lifeboat Page 2