CHAPTER XX.
A NARROW ESCAPE.
So keenly did Bert feel his disgrace, that it was some time before heregained his wonted spirits; and his continued depression gave hismother no little concern, so that she took every way of showing to himthat her confidence in him was unimpaired, and that she asked no furtherproof of his penitence than he had already given. But Bert's sensitivenature had received a shock from which it did not readily recover. Fromhis earliest days he had been peculiarly free from the desire to takewhat did not belong to him; and as he grew older, this had developedinto a positive aversion to anything that savoured of stealing in theslightest degree. He never could see any fun in "hooking" another boy'slunch, as so many others did, and nothing could induce him to join inone of the numerous expeditions organised to raid sundry unguardedorchards in the outskirts of the city.
His firmness upon this point led to a curious scene one afternoon.School was just out, and a group of the boys, among whom were Bert,and, of course, Frank Bowser, was discussing what they should do withthemselves, when Ned Ross proposed that they should go out to theHosterman orchard, and see if they could not get some apples. A chorusof approval came from all but Bert, who immediately turned away and madeas though he would go home.
"Hallo! Bert," cried Ned Ross, "aren't you coming?"
"No," replied Bert, very decidedly. "I'm not."
"Why not?" inquired Ned. "What's the matter?"
"Those are not our apples, Ned, and we've got no right to touch 'em,"answered Bert.
"Bosh and nonsense!" exclaimed Ned. "All the boys take them, and nobodyever hinders them. Come along."
"No," said Bert, "I can't."
"Can't? Why can't you?" persisted Ned, who was rapidly losing histemper.
Bert hesitated a moment, and the colour mounted high in his cheeks. Thenhe spoke out his reason bravely:
"Because I'm a Christian, Ned; and it would not be right for me to doit."
"A Christian?" sneered Ned. "You'd be nearer the truth if you said acoward."
The words had hardly left his lips before Frank Bowser was standingbefore him, shaking in his face a fist that was not to be regardedlightly.
"Say that again," cried Frank, wrathfully, "and I'll knock you down!"
Ned looked at Frank's face, and then at his fist. There was no mistakingthe purpose of either, and as Frank was fully his match, if not more, hethought it prudent to say nothing more than: "Bah! Come on, fellows. Wecan get along without him."
The group moved off; but Bert was not the only one who stayed behind.Frank stayed too; and so did Ernest Linton. And these three sought theiramusement in another direction.
That scene very vividly impressed Bert, and over and over again hethought to himself: "What will the boys who heard me refuse to go to theorchard, because I am a Christian, think of me when they hear that Ihave been helping to spend stolen money?"
This was the thought that troubled him most, but it was not the onlyone. He felt that he could not be at ease with his beloved Sunday-schoolteacher again, until he had made a full confession to him. But, oh! thisdid seem so hard to do! Several Sundays passed without his being able tomake up his mind to do it. At length he determined to put it off nolonger, and one Sunday afternoon, lingering behind after the school hadbeen dismissed, he poured the whole story into Mr. Silver's sympatheticear.
Mr. Silver was evidently moved to the heart, as Bert, without sparinghimself, told of his disobedience, his concealment, and theconsequences that followed; and he had many a wise and tender word forthe boy, whose confidence in him made him proud. From that day apeculiar fondness existed between the two, and Mr. Silver was inspiredto increased fidelity and effort in his work because of the knowledgethat one at least of his boys looked upon him with such affection andconfidence.
Once that summer had fairly come to stay, the wharves of the city becamefull of fascination for the boys, and every afternoon they troopedthither to fish for perch and tommy cods; to board the vessels lying intheir berths, and out-do one another in feats of rigging climbing; toplay glorious games of "hide-and-seek," and "I spy," in the greatcavernous warehouses, and when tired to gather around some idle sailor,and have him stir their imagination with marvellous stories of the sea.
For none had the wharves more attraction than for Bert and Frank, andalthough Mrs. Lloyd would not allow the former to go down Water Street,where he would be far from home, she did not object to his spending anafternoon now and then on a wharf not far from their own house. Sothither the two friends repaired at every opportunity, and fine fun theyhad, dropping their well-baited hooks into the clear green water, tocatch eager perch, or watching the hardworking sailors dragging hugecasks of molasses out of dark and grimy holds, and rolling them up thewharf to be stored in the vast cool warehouses, or running risks ofbeing pickled themselves, as they followed the fish-curers in their workof preparing the salt herring or mackerel for their journey to the hotWest Indies. There never was any lack of employment, for eyes, or hands,or feet, on that busy wharf, and the boys felt very proud when they werepermitted to join the workers sometimes and do their little best, whichwas all the more enjoyable because they could stop whenever they liked,and hadn't to work all day as the others did.
Nor were these the only attractions. The principal business done at thiswharf was with the West Indies, and no vessel thought of coming backfrom that region of fruits without a goodly store of oranges, bananas,and pine-apples, some of which, if the boys were not too troublesome,and the captain had made a good voyage, were sure to find their way intovery appreciative mouths. Bert's frank, bright manner, and pluckyspirit, made him a great favourite with the captains, and many a timewas he sent home with a big juicy pine, or an armful of great goldenoranges.
One day, when Bert and Frank went down to the wharf, they found astrange-looking vessel made fast to the piles that filled them withcuriosity. She was a barquentine, and was sparred, and rigged, andpainted in a rather unusual way, the explanation of it all being thatshe was a Spanish vessel, of an old-fashioned type. Quite in keepingwith the appearance of the vessel was the appearance of the crew. Theywere nearly all Lascars, and with their tawny skins, flashing eyes, jetblack hair, and gold-ringed ears, seemed to fit very well thedescription of the pirates, whose dreadful deeds, as graphicallydescribed in sundry books, had given the boys many a delicious thrill ofhorror. This resemblance caused them to look upon the foreigners withsome little fear at first, but their curiosity soon overcame allconsiderations of prudence, and after hanging about for a while, theybashfully accepted the invitation extended them by a swarthy sailor,whose words were unintelligible, but whose meaning was unmistakable.
On board the _Santa Maria_--for that was the vessel's name--they foundmuch to interest them, and the sailors treated them very kindly, inspite of their piratical appearance. What delighted them most was amonkey that belonged to the cook. He was one of the cutest, cleverestlittle creatures that ever parodied humanity. His owner had taught him agood many tricks, and he had taught himself even more; and both the boysfelt that in all their lives they had never seen so entertaining a pet.He completely captivated them, and they would have given all theypossessed to make him their own. But the cook had no idea of partingwith him, even had it been in their power to buy him; so they had tocontent themselves with going down to see him as often as they could.
Of course, they told their schoolmates about him, and of course theschoolmates were set wild with curiosity to see this marvellous monkey,and they flocked down to the _Santa Maria_ in such numbers, and sooften, that at last the sailors got tired of them. A mob of schoolboysinvading the deck every afternoon, and paying uproarious homage to thecleverness of a monkey, was more or less of a nuisance. Accordingly, byway of a gentle hint, the rope ladder, by which easy access was had tothe vessel, was removed, and a single rope put in its place.
It happened that the first afternoon after this had been done, the crowdof visitors was larger than ever; and when they arrived
at the _SantaMaria's_ side, and found the ladder gone, they were, as may be easilyimagined, very much disgusted. A rope might be good enough for a sailor,but the boys very much preferred a ladder, and they felt disposed toresent the action of the sailors in thus cutting off their means ofascent. The fact that it was high tide at the time, and the tall sidesof the ship towered above the wharf, constituted a further grievance inthe boys' minds. They held an impromptu indignation meeting forthwith.But, although they were unanimous in condemning the conduct of theforeigners, who evidently did not know any better, they were still nonearer the monkey.
"Why not try to shin up the rope?" asked Frank Bowser, after a while.
"All right, if you'll give us a lead," replied one of the others.
"Very well--here goes!" returned Frank. And without more ado he graspedthe rope, planted his feet firmly against the vessel's side, and beganto ascend. It was evidently not the easiest thing in the world to do,but his pluck, determination, and muscle conquered; and presently,somewhat out of breath, he sat upon the bulwark, and, waving his cap tothe boys below, gasped out:
"Come along, boys! It's as easy as winking."
Not to be outdone, several others made the attempt and succeeded also.Then came Bert's turn. Although so many had got up all right, he somehowfelt a little nervous, and made one or two false starts, climbing up alittle way and then dropping back again. This caused those who werewaiting to become impatient, and while Bert was about making anotherstart, one of them who stood behind him gave him a sharp push, saying:
"Hurry up there, slow coach."
As it happened, Bert was just at that moment changing his grip upon therope, and balancing himself upon the extreme edge of the stringer, whichformed the edge of the wharf. The ill-timed push caught him unawares. Hethrew out his arms to steady himself, and the rope slipped altogetherfrom his grasp. The next instant, with a cry of fear that was taken upby the boys standing helplessly about, he fell over into the dark,swirling water, between the vessel's side and the wharf.
Down, down, down he went, while the water roared in his ears with thethunders of Niagara, and filled his mouth with its sickening brine, asinstinctively he opened it to cry for help. He could not swim a stroke,but he had a good idea of what the motions were, and so now, in adesperate effort to save his life, he struck out vigorously with hishands. It must have helped him, too; for out of the darkness into whichhe had been plunged at first, he emerged into a lighter place, where,through the green water, he could see his hands looking very white, asthey moved before his face.
But this did not bring him to the surface; so he tried another plan.Doubling his sturdy legs beneath him, he shot them out as he had seenother boys do when "treading water." A thrill of joy inspired him as theeffort succeeded, and, his head rising above the surface, he got onegood breath before sinking again. But the pitiless water engulfed himonce more, and, though he struggled hard, he seemed unable to keephimself from sinking deeper still. Then the desire to struggle began toleave him. Life seemed no longer a thing to be fiercely striven for. Astrange peace stole over his mind, and was followed by a still strangerthing; for while he floated there, an unresisting prey to the deep, itappeared as though all the events of his past life were crowding beforehim like some wonderful panorama. From right to left they followed oneanother in orderly procession, each as clear and distinct as a paintedpicture, and he was watching them with absorbed, painless interest, whensomething dark came across his vision; he felt himself grasped firmlyand drawn swiftly through the water, and the next thing he knew, he wasin the light and air again, and was being handed up to the top of thewharf by men who passed him carefully from one to the other. In the verynick of time rescue had come, and Bert was brought back to life.
Now, who was his rescuer, and what took place while Bert was strugglingfor his life in the cold, dark water? The instant he disappeared theboys shouted and shrieked in such a way as to bring the whole crew ofthe _Santa Maria_ to the bulwarks, over which they eagerly peered, notunderstanding what was the matter. Frank, who was in a frenzy of anxietyand alarm, tried hard to explain to them; but his efforts wereunavailing until the reappearance of Bert's head made the matter plainat once, and then he thought they would, of course, spring to therescue. But they did not. They looked at one another, and jabberedsomething unintelligible, but not one of them moved, though Frank seizedthe liveliest of them by the arm, and, pointing to the place where Bertvanished, again indicated, by unmistakable gestures, what he wanted himto do. The man simply shook his head and moved away. He either couldnot swim, or did not think it worth while to risk his precious life intrying to rescue one of the foreign urchins that had been bothering the_Santa Maria_ of late. Had Bert's life depended upon these men, it mighthave been given up at once.
But there was other help at hand. John Connors, the good-natured Irishstorekeeper, by whose sufferance the boys were permitted to make aplayground of the wharf, had heard their frantic cries, although he wasaway up in one of the highest flats of the farthest store. Withoutstopping to see what could be the matter, Connors leaped down the longflights of stairs at a reckless rate, and ran toward the shrieking boys.
"Bert's overboard--save him!" they cried, as he burst into their midst.
"Where?" he asked, breathlessly, while he flung off his boots.
"There--just there," they replied, pointing to where Bert had last beenseen.
Balancing himself for an instant on the end of the stringer, Connors,with the spring of a practised swimmer, dived into the depths anddisappeared; while the boys, in the silence of intense anxiety, crowdedas close as they dared to the edge of the wharf, and the Lascars lookeddown from their bulwarks in stolid admiration. There were some momentsof harrowing uncertainty, and then a shout arose from the boys, whicheven the swarthy sailors imitated, after a fashion; for cleaving thebubbled surface came the head of brave John Connors, and, close besideit, the dripping curls of Bert Lloyd, the faces of both showing greatexhaustion.
The sailors were all alert now. Ropes were hastily flung over the side,and swarming down these with the agility of monkeys, they took Bert outof his rescuer's hands and passed him up to the wharf; Connors followedunassisted, so soon as he had recovered his breath.
Once upon the wharf, they were surrounded by a noisy group of boys,overjoyed at their playmate's happy escape from death, and overflowingwith admiration for his gallant rescuer. Bert very quickly came tohimself--for he had not indeed entirely lost consciousness--and thenConnors told him just how he had got hold of him:
"When I dived down first I couldn't see anything of you at all, my boy,and I went hunting about with my eyes wide open and looking for you. Atlast, just as I was about giving you up, I saw something dark below methat I thought might, p'r'aps, be yourself. So I just stuck out my foot,and by the powers if it didn't take you right under the chin. As quickas a wink I drew you toward me, and once I had a good grip of you, I putfor the top as hard as I could go; and here we are now, safe and sound.And, faith, I hope you won't be trying it again in a hurry."
BERT RESCUED.--_Page_ 214.]
Bert was very much in earnest when he assured him he would not, andstill more in earnest when he tried to express his gratitude. ButConnors would none of it.
"Not at all, not at all, my boy," said he, with a laugh. "A fine youngchap like you is well worth saving any day, and it's not in John Connorsto stand by and see you drown, even if those black-faced furriners don'tknow any better."
Bert Lloyd's Boyhood: A Story from Nova Scotia Page 21