The Island of Gold: A Sailor's Yarn

by Anonymous

EEDIE, I'VE FOUND A CHILD."

  Ransey Tansey took his tiny sister tenderly up and spread her, as itwere, on the soft moss.

  "She's in for a regular forenooner, Bob," said the boy, "and I'm notsure I don't like Babs just as well when she is asleep. Seems soinnercent-like, you know."

  Bob looked as if he really did understand, and tried by means of hisbrown eyes and that fag-end of a tail to let his master know that he tooliked Babs best asleep, because then no attempts were made to gouge hiseyes out with pieces of stick, or to ram the business end of a tinwhistle halfway down his throat.

  "Bob!" said Ransey.

  "Yes, master," said Bob, raising his ears.

  "Babs is a sailor's darter, ye know."

  Bob assented.

  "Well, she ought'er sleep in a hammock."

  "To be sure. I hadn't thought of that," said Bob.

  "I can make one in a brace o' shakes, and that's sailor langwidge. Nowjust keep your eyes on me, Bob."

  Ransey Tansey was busy enough for the next five minutes. He took thatshepherd-tartan shawl, and by means of some pieces of string, which henever went abroad without, soon fashioned it into a neat little hammock.Two saplings grew near, and by bending a branch downward from each, heslung that hammock so prettily that he was obliged to stand back for alittle while to smile and admire it.

  When he lifted Babs and put her in it, and fastened the two sides of thehammock across her chest with some more string and a horse-shoe nail, sothat she could not fall out, the whole affair was complete.

  "Hush-a-bye, baby, upon the tree-top, When the wind blown the cradle will rock."

  Well, the wind did blow, but ever so softly, and the little hammockswayed gently to and fro. And the blackbird's voice seemed to soundmore melodiously now; the thrush went farther away; only the wildpigeons continued to coo, coo, and the bees to hum, high, high up in thegreen beech-tree.

  No wonder that the baby slept.

  "Come along now, Bob. We've a whole hour at least."

  The boy placed his rod and bag on the branches of a tree.

  "A whole hour, Bob, to do as we likes. No good me askin' that idiot ofan Admiral to watch Babs. He'd only begin scray-scrayin' and hoppingaround the hammock, and Babs would wake. I'm goin' to run wild for abit, are you?"

  And off he bounded, with Bob at his heels.

  The Admiral, whose feet were getting cold now, hopped out of the stream,stretched out his three-foot neck, and looked after them.

  "They think they're going to leave me behind, do they? Tok--tok--tok,"--which in craneish language means "No--no--no."

  So away _he_ went next, with his head and his long neck about a yard infront of him, and his wings expanded. It would have puzzled any one tohave told whether the Admiral was running or flying.

  If Ransey Tansey climbed one tree he climbed a dozen. Ransey walkedthrough the wood with upturned face, and whenever he saw a nest, whetherit belonged to magpie, hawk, or hooded crow, skywards he went to have alook at it.

  He liked to look at the eggs best, and sometimes he brought just onedown in his mouth if four were left behind, because, he thought, onewouldn't be missed. But even this was sinful; for although birds arenot very good arithmeticians, every one of them can count as far as thenumber of its eggs--even a partridge or a wren can.

  Sometimes the Admiral wanted to investigate the nests, but Ranseysternly forbade him. He might dance round the tree as much as he liked,but he must not fly up.

  Bob used to bark at his master as he climbed up and up. Indeed, whenperched on the very, _very_ top of a tall larch-tree Ransey himselfdidn't look much bigger than a rook.

  Yet I think the ever-abiding sorrow with Bob was not that he had not atail worth talking about, but that he could not climb a tree.

  Different birds behaved in different ways when Ransey visited theirnests. Thus: a linnet or a robin, flying from its sweet, cosy littlehome in a bush of orange-scented furze, would sit and sing at no greatdistance in a half-hysterical kind of way, as if it really didn't knowwhat it was about. A blackbird from a tall thorn-tree or baby spruce,would go scurrying off, and make the woods resound with her cries of"beet, beet, beet," till other birds, crouching low on their nests,trembled with fear lest their turn might come next. A hooded crow wouldfly off some distance and perch on a tree, but say nothing: hooded crowsare philosophers. A magpie went but a little distance away, and satnodding and chickering in great distress. A hawk would course round andround in great circles in the air, uttering every now and then a mostdistressful scream.

  But one day, I must tell you, a large hawk played the lad a verymischievous trick. Ransey was high up near the top of a tall,stone-pine-tree, and had hold of a sturdy branch above, being just aboutto swing himself in through the needled foliage, when, lo! the stump onwhich one foot was resting gave way, leaving him suspended betwixtheaven and earth, like Mohammed's coffin--and kicking too, because hecould not for some time swing himself into the tree.

  Now that hawk needn't have been so precious nasty about it. But he sawhis chance, and went for Ransey straight; and the more the boy shoutedat the hawk, and cried "Hoosh-oo!" at him, the more that hawk wouldn'tleave off. He tore the boy's shirt and back, and cut his suspenderright through, so that with the kicking and struggling his poor littlepants came off and fluttered down to the ground.

  Ransey Tansey was only second best that day, and when--a sadder and awiser boy--he reached the foot of the tree, he found that Bob had beenengaged in funeral rites--obsequies--for some time. In fact, he hadscraped a hole beneath a furze bush and buried Ransey's pants.

  Whether Bob had thought this was all that remained of his master or not,I cannot say. I only state facts.

  But to hark back: after Ransey Tansey had seen all the nests he wantedto see, he and his two companions rushed off to a portion of the woodwhere, near the bank of the stream, he kept his toy ship under amoss-covered boulder.

  He had built this ship, fashioning her out of a pine-log with his knife,and rigged her all complete as well as his somewhat limited nauticalknowledge permitted him to do. In Ransey's eyes she was a beauty--without paint.

  Before he launched her to-day he looked down at Bob and across at theAdmiral, who was quite as tall as the boy.

  "We're going on a long and dangerous voyage, Bob," he said. "There's nosayin' wot may happen. We may run among rocks and get smashed; we mayget caught-aback-like and flounder,"--he meant founder--"or go down wi'all han's in the Bay o' Biscay--O."

  Bob tried to appear as solemn and sad as the occasion demanded, and lethis fag-end drop groundwards.

  But the crane only said "Tok," which on this occasion meant "Allhumbug!" for he knew well enough that Ransey Tansey was seldom to betaken seriously.

  Never mind, the barque was launched on the fathomless deep, the summerbreeze filled her sails--which, by the way, had been made out of a pieceof an old shirt of the boy's father's--and she breasted the billows likea thing of life.

  Then as those three young inseparables rushed madly and delightedlyalong the bank to keep abreast of the ship, never surely was suchwhooping and barking and scray-scraying heard in the woods before.

  But disaster followed in the wake of that bonnie barque on this voyage.I suppose the helmsman forgot to put his helm up at an ugly bend of theriver, so the wind caught her dead aback. She flew stern-foremostthrough the water at a furious rate, then her bows rose high in air, shestruggled but for a moment ere down she sank to rise no more, and all onboard must have perished!

  When I say she sank to rise no more I am hardly in alignment with thetruth.

  The fact is, that although Ransey Tansey could easily have made anothership with that knife of his, he was afraid he could not requisition somemore shirt for sails.

  "Oh, I ain't agoin' to lose her like that, Bob," said Ransey.

  Bob was understood to say that _he_ wouldn't either.

  "Admiral, ye're considerabul longer nor me in the legs and neck;couldn't ye wade
out and make a dive for her?"

  The crane only said, "Tok!"

  By this time Ransey was undressed.

  "Hoop!" he cried, "here goes," and in he dived.

  "Wowff!" cried Bob, "here's for after," and in _he_ sprang next.

  "Kaik--kaik!" shrieked the crane, and followed his leader, but hespeedily got out again. The water was deep, and as a swimmer theAdmiral was somewhat of a failure.

  But the barque was raised all and whole, and after a good swim Ranseyand Bob returned to the bank. Bob shook himself, making little rainbowsall round him, and the boy rolled in the moss till he was dry, butstained rather green.

  Then he dressed himself, and looked at his watch--that is, he looked atthe sun.

  "Why, Bob," he cried, "it is time to go back to Babs."

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  It was such a lovely forenoon that day that the elderly Miss Scragleythought a walk in the woods and wilds--as she phrased it--would do hergood. So she took her little six-year-old niece Eedie with her, andstarted.

  The butler wanted to know if he would send a groom with her. But shedeclined the service.

  "It is ever so much better," she told Eedie, "going all alone andenjoying things, than having a dressed-up doll of a flunkey dawdlingbehind you carrying wraps."

  I think Miss Scragley was right.

  The Scragleys were a very old family, and that was their mansion I havealready mentioned as standing high up on the hill in a cloudland ofglorious trees. But excepting Miss Scragley herself, and this littleniece, Miss Eedie Moore, the rest of the Scragleys were all dead andaway.

  Though the family estates were intact and financially secure,afflictions of all sorts had decimated the Scragleys. No less than twohad died on the hunting-field; one, a soldier, had fallen on the fieldof fame in far Afghanistan; another, a captain in the royal navy, hadsuccumbed to fever at sea; and still another had sailed away in a shipthat never returned.

  Others had died in peace and at home. So Miss Scragley was indeed arelic of the past, but she was lord of the manor for the time being.Her heart was bound up in little Eedie; and the girl would have tochange her name when of age, as she would then be heir to all theScragley estates. Even if she married, her husband must become aScragley. It would never do to let the glorious name of Scragley dieout.

  But Miss Scragley was somewhat antiquated though not very old; somewhatset up and starchy in manner too. She preferred to import good peoplefrom London to mixing with the residents around, with the exception ofthe kindly-faced, white-haired old rector, Captain Weathereye, R.N., andDr Fairincks.

  In bygone ages it was currently believed that this rough old sea-dog ofa captain, Weathereye would lead the then graceful Miss Scragley to thealtar, and the lady herself still believed that the happy event wouldyet come off.

  And she was quite gay when she thought of it. At Christmas-time, whenshe imported more good people from London than usual, and turned on thefamily ghost for the occasion, when she had the special brand of portdecanted that old Weathereye so dearly loved, and when Scragley Hallresounded with mirth and laughter, and was lighted up from basement toattics, Miss Scragley nursed the fond hope that the captain was almostsure to pop the question.

  Old Captain Weathereye praised the port. But--well, he loved to hearcorks popping, only he wouldn't pop himself.

  Poor Miss Scragley!

  "I wonder will he _ever_?" she used to remark to herself, when shehad finished saying her prayers and was preparing toundress--"ever--_ever_?"

  "Never--never," old Weathereye would have unfeelingly replied had heheard her.

  On this particular occasion Miss Scragley extended her walk far into thevery wood--forest, she romantically called it--where Ransey Tansey andhis pets were enjoying themselves.

  She and her niece wandered on and on by the banks of the stream, tillthey came to the place where little Babs lay, still sound asleep in herhammock, and this was swaying gently to and fro in the summer wind.

  "O Eedie!" cried Miss Scragley, "why, I've found a child!"

  "Oh, the wee darling!" exclaimed Eedie; "mayn't I kiss it, auntie?"

  "If you kissed it," said the lady, as if she knew all about babies andcould write a book about them--"if you kissed it, dear, it would awake,and the creature's yells would resound through the dark depths of theforest."

  "But there is no one near," she continued; "it must be deserted by itsunfeeling parents, and left here to perish."

  She went a little nearer now and looked down on the sleeping child'sface.

  A very pretty face it was, the rosy lips parted, the flush of sleep uponher face; and one wee chubby hand and arm was lying bare on the shawl.

  "Oh dear!" cried Miss Scragley, "I feel strangely agitated. I cannotlet the tiny angel perish in the silvan gloom. I must--_you_ must,Eedie--well, _we_ must, dear, carry it home with us."

  "Oh, will ye, though?" The voice was close behind her. "Just you leaveBabs alone, and attend to yer own bizness, else Bob will have somethin'till say to ye."

  Miss Scragley started, as well she might.

  "Oh," she cried, looking round now, "an absurd little gipsy boy!"

  "_Yes_," said Ransey Tansey, touching his forelock, "and I'm sorry forbein' so absurd. And ashamed all-so. If a rabbit's hole was handy, I'dsoon pop in. But, bless yer beautiful ladyship, if I'd known I was to'ave the perleasure o' meetin' quality, I'd 'ave put on my dress soot,and carried my crush hat under my arm.

  "Don't be afeard, mum," he continued, as the crane came hopping out ofthe bush. "That's only just the Admiral; and this is Bob, as would diefor me or Babs."

  "And who is Babs, you droll boy?"

  "Babs is my baby, and no one else's 'cept Bob's. And Bob and I wouldmake it warm for anybody as tried to take Babs away. Wouldn't us, Bob?"

  Just then his little sister awoke, all smiles and dimples as usual.

  Ransey Tansey went to talk to her, and for a time the boy forgot all theworld except Babs.

  Book 1--CHAPTER FOUR.

  "RANSEY, FETCH JIM; WE'RE GOIN' ON."

  "I'se glad 'oo's tome back, 'Ansey. Has I been afeep [asleep], 'Ansey?"

  "Oh, yes; and now I'm goin' to feed Babs, and Babs'll lie and look atthe trees till I cook dinner for Bob and me."

  "That wady [lady] won't take Babs away, 'Ansey?"

  "No, Babs, no."

  Ransey Tansey fed Babs once more from the pickle bottle with the hornspoon, much to Miss Scragley's and little Eedie's astonishment anddelight.

  Then he commenced to build a fire at a little distance, and laid outsome fish all ready to cook as soon as the blazing wood should die downto red embers.

  "You're a very interesting boy," said Miss Scragley politely. "May Ilook on while you cook?"

  "Oh, yes, mum. Sorry I ain't got a chair to offer ye."

  "And oh, please, interesting boy," begged Eedie, "may I talk to Babs?"

  "Cer--tain--lee, pretty missie.--Babsie, sweet," he added, "talk to thisbeautiful young lady."

  "There's no charge for sittin' on the grass, mum," said Ransey the nextminute.

  And down sat Miss Scragley smiling.

  The boy proceeded with the preparation of the meal in real gipsyfashion. He cooked fish, and he roasted potatoes. He hadn't forgottenthe salt either, nor a modicum of butter in a piece of paper, nor bread;and as he and Bob made a hearty dinner, he gave every now and then thesweetest of tit-bits to Babs.

  Eedie and the child got on beautifully together.

  "May I ask you a question or two, you most interesting boy?" said MissScragley.

  "Oh, yes, if ye're quite sure ye ain't the gamekeeper's wife. Thekeeper turned me out of the wood once. Bob warn't there that day."

  "Well, I'm sure I'm not the gamekeeper's wife. I am Miss Scragley ofScragley Hall."

  The boy was wiping his fingers and his knife with some moss.

  "I wish I had a cap on," he said.

&nb
sp; "Why, dear?"

  "So as I could take her off and make a bow," he explained.

  "And what is your name, curious boy?"

  "Ransey; that's my front name."

  "But your family name?"

  "Ain't got ne'er a family, 'cepting Babs."

  "But you have a surname--another name, you know."

  "Ransey Tansey all complete. There."

  "And where do you live, my lad?"

  "Me and Babs and Bob and Murrams all lives, when we're to home, atHangman's Hall; and father lives there, too, when 'ee's to home; and theAdmiral, yonder, he roosts in the gibbet-tree."

  "And what does father do?"

  "Oh, father's a capting."

  "A captain, dear boy?"

  "No, he's not a boy, but a man, and capting of the _Merry Maiden_, acanal barge, mum. An' we all goes to sea sometimes together, 'ceptingMurrams, our pussy, and the Admiral. We have such fun; and I ride Jimthe canal hoss, and Babs laughs nearly all the time."

  "So you're very happy all of you, and always were?"

  "Oh, yes--'cepting when father sometimes took too much rum; but that's ahundred years ago, more or less, mum."

  "Poor lad!