CHAPTER FOUR.
A LESSON IN SWIMMING.
It was hot! One of those dry summers when the air seems to quiver withthe heat, and one afternoon, as I was in my old place at the windowwatching Shock go to and fro, carrying baskets of what seemed to bebeans, George Day came along.
"I say," he cried, "ask leave to come with us. We've got ahalf-holiday."
Just then I saw the bristling shoots on the wall shake, but I paid noheed, for I was too much interested in my new friend's words.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Oh, down the meadows! that's the best place, and there's no end of funto be had. I'll take a fishing-rod." I went to where my mother waslying down and asked her consent, receiving a feeble _yes_, and her handwent up to my neck, to draw me down that she might kiss me.
"Be back in good time," she whispered. "George Day, you said?"
"Yes; his father is something in London, and he goes to thegrammar-school."
"Be back in good time," she whispered again; and getting my cap, I justcaught sight of Shock at the top of the wall as I ran by the window.
"Poor fellow!" I thought, "how he, too, would like a holiday!"
"Here I am," I cried; and feeling as if I had been just released fromsome long confinement, I set off with my companion at a sharp run.
We had to call at his house, a large red brick place just at the end ofthe village, close to Isleworth church, where the rod was obtained, witha basket to hold bait, lines, and the fish that we were going to catch;and soon after we were down where the sleek cows were contentedly lyingabout munching, and giving their heads an angry toss now and then tokeep off the flies.
Rich grass, golden butter-cups, bushes and trees whose boughs swept downtowards the ground, swallows and swifts darting here and there, andbeneath the vividly blue sky there was the river like so much damascenedsilver, for in those days one never thought about the mud.
I cannot describe the joy I felt in running here and there with mycompanion, and a couple of his school-fellows who had preceded us, andwho saluted us as we approached with a shout.
We ran about till we were tired, and then the fishing commenced from thebank, for the tide was well up, and according to my companion's accountthe fish were in plenty.
Perhaps they were, but though bait after bait was placed upon the hook,and the line thrown out to float along with the current, not a fish wascaught, no vestige of that nerve-titillating tremble of the float--abite--was seen.
Every now and then some one struck sharply, trying to make himselfbelieve that roach or dace had taken the bait, but the movement of thefloat was always due to the line dragging the gravelly ground, or thebait touching one of the many weeds.
The sun was intensely hot, and scorched our backs, and burned our facesby flashing back from the water, which looked cool and tempting, as itran past our feet.
We fished on, sometimes one handling the rod and sometimes the other--beginning by throwing in the line with whispered words, so as not tofrighten the fish that were evidently not there, and ending by sendingin bait and float with a splash, and with noise and joking.
"There's a big one," some one would cry, and a clod torn out from thebank, or a stone, would be thrown in amidst bursts of laughter.
"Oh it's not a jolly bit of good," cried one of the boys; "they won'tbite to-day. I'm so thirsty, let's have a drink."
"No, no, don't drink the water," I said; "it isn't good enough."
"What shall we do then--run after the cows for a pen'orth of milk?"
"I say, look there," cried George Day; "the tide's turned. It's runningdown. We shall get plenty of fish now."
"Why, there's somebody bathing down below there," cried another of theboys.
"Yes, and can't he swim!"
"Let's all have a bathe," cried young Day.
"Ah, come on: it will be jolly here. Who's first in?"
I looked on half in amazement, for directly after catching sight of thehead of some lad in the water about a couple of hundred yards below us,who seemed to be swimming about in the cool water with the greatestease, my companions began to throw off caps and jackets, and to untieand kick off their boots.
"But we haven't got any towels," cried George Day.
"Towels!" cried one of the others; "why, the sun will dry us in fiveminutes; come on. What a day for a swim!"
It did look tempting there at the bottom of that green meadow, deep ingrass and with the waving trees to hide us from observation, thoughthere was not a house within a mile, nor, saving an occasional bargewith a sleepy man hanging over the tiller, a boat to be seen, and as Iwatched the actions of my companions, I, for the first time in my life,felt the desire to imitate them come on me strongly.
They were not long undressing, one kicking off his things anyhow,another carefully folding them as he took them off, and tucking hissocks inside his boots. But careful and careless alike, five minuteshad not elapsed before to my delight George Day, who was a boy of aboutfourteen, ran back a dozen yards from the river's brink and threw up hisarms.
"One, two, three, cock warning!" he shouted, ran by me swiftly, andplunged into the river with a tremendous splash.
I felt horrified, but the next moment his head reappeared bobbing about,and he swam along easily and well.
"Oh it's so lovely," he cried. "Come along."
"All right!" cried one of his friends, sitting down on the edge of thebank, and lowering himself in gently, to stand for a few moments up tohis arm-pits, and then duck his head down twice, rubbing his eyes to getthe water out, and then stooping down and beginning to swim slowly andlaboriously, and with a great deal of puffing.
"Oh, what a cowardly way of getting in!" said the third, who stood onthe bank, hesitating.
"Well, let's see you, then," cried George Day, who was swimming close athand. "Jump in."
"Oh, I can't jump in like you do," said the other; "it gives me theheadache."
"Why, you're afraid."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are. Come in, or I'll pull you down."
"There!"
The boy jumped in feet first, and as soon as he came up he struggled tothe bank, and puffed and panted and squeezed the water out of his hair.
"Oh my, isn't it jolly cold!" he cried. "It takes all my breath away."
"Cold!" cried the others; "it's lovely. Here you, Dennison, come in."
"I can't swim," I said, feeling a curious shrinking on the one side,quite a temptation on the other.
"And you never will," cried George Day, "if you don't try. It's soeasy: look here!"
He swam a few yards with the greatest ease, turned round, and beganswimming slowly back.
"Go on--faster," I cried, for I was interested.
"Can't," he cried, "tide runs so sharp. If I didn't mind I should beswept right away. Come in. I'll soon teach you."
I shook my head.
"Oh, you are a fellow. Come on."
"No, I sha'n't bathe," I said in a doubtful tone.
"Oh, here's a chap! I say isn't he a one! Always tied to his mother'sapron-string: can't play cricket, or rounders, or football, and can'tswim. I say, isn't he a molly."
The others laughed, and being now out of their misery, as they termedit, they were splashing about and enjoying the water, but neither ofthem went far from the bank.
"I say, why don't you come in?" cried the boy who jumped in feet first."You will like it so."
"Yes: come along, and try to swim. I can take five strokes. Lookhere."
I watched while the boy went along puffing and panting, and making agreat deal of splashing.
"Get out!" said the other; "he has got one leg on the ground. This isthe way to learn to swim. Look here, Dennison, my father showed me."
I looked, and he waded out three or four yards, till the water wasnearly over his shoulders.
"Oh, I say, isn't the tide strong!" he cried. "Now, then, look."
He threw up his arms,
joined his hands as he stood facing me, made asort of jump and turned right over, plunging down before me, his legsand feet coming right out, and then for some seconds there was a greatdeal of turmoil and splashing in the muddy water, and he came up closeto the bank.
"That's the way," he cried, panting. "You have to try to get to thebottom, and that gives you confidence."
"I didn't learn that way," shouted George Day. "See me float!"
We all looked, and he turned over on his back, but splashed a good dealto keep himself up. Then all at once he went under, and my heart seemedto stand still, but he came up again directly, shaking his head andspitting.
"Tread water!" he cried; and he seemed to be wading about withdifficulty.
"Is it deep there?" I shouted.
"Look," he cried; and raising his hands above his head he sank out ofsight, his hands disappearing too, and then he was up again directly andswam to the bank.
"I wish I could swim like you do," I said, looking at him withadmiration.
"Well, it's easy enough," he said. "Come along."
"Shall I?"
"Yes. Why, what are you afraid of? Nobody ever comes down here exceptus boys who want a bathe. Slip off your clothes and have a good dip.You're sure to like it."
"But I've never been used to it," I protested.
"Then get used to it," he cried. "I say, boys, he ought to learn,oughtn't he?"
"Yes," cried the others. "Let's get out and make him."
"Oh, I don't want any making," I said proudly. "But I say--is itdangerous?"
"Dangerous! Hark at him! Ha--ha--ha!" laughed Day. "Why, what are youafraid of? There, jump out of your jacket. I sha'n't stop in muchlonger, and I want to give you a lesson."
"He's afraid," shouted the other two boys.
"Am I! You'll see," I said sturdily; and, feeling as if I were going todo something very desperate, and with a curious sensation of dreadcoming all over me, even to the roots of my hair, I rapidly undressedand went to the edge.
"Hooray!" shouted Day. "Now, look here: you can jump in head first,which is the proper way, or sneak in toes first, like they do. Show 'emyou aren't afraid. They daren't jump in head first. Come on; I'll takecare you don't come up too far out, as you can't swim."
"Would it matter if I did?" I said excitedly.
"Get along with you! no," cried Day.
I hesitated, for the water looked very dreadful, and in spite of theburning sunshine it seemed cold. I felt so helpless too, and wouldgladly have run back to my clothes and dressed, instead of standing onthe brink of the river.
"In with you," shouted Day, backing away from the bank, and the othertwo boys stood a little way off, with the water up to their chests,grinning and jeering.
"He daren't."
"He's afraid."
"I say, don't you jump in: you'll get wet."
"I say, young 'un, don't. You learn to swim in the washing-tub in warmwater."
"Don't you take any notice of them," cried Day. "You jump in. Joinyour hands above your head and go in with a regular good leap. Theycan't."
I felt desperate. The water seemed to drive me back, but all the timethe jeers of the boys pricked and stirred me on, and at last, obeyingDay to the letter, I placed my hands above my head, diver fashion, andtook the plunge down into the darkness of the chilly water, which seemedto roar and thunder in my ears, and then, before I knew where I was, Ifound myself standing up, spitting, half blind, with a curious burningsensation in my nostrils, and a horrible catching of the breath.
"Hooray!" shouted Day. "You've beat them hollow. Now you're out ofyour misery and can show them. I bet a penny you learn to swim beforethey can."
This was encouraging, and I began to feel a warm glow of satisfaction inmy veins.
"Catch hold of my hand," cried Day.
"No, no," I cried excitedly. "You'll take me where it's deep."
"Get out!" he said. "I shouldn't be such a fool. There, go on then byyourself. Don't go where it's more than up to your chin."
"Oh, no!" I said, stooping and rising, and letting the water, as it ranswiftly, send a curious cold thrill all over me. And then, as I begancautiously to wade about, panting, and with my breath coming in anirregular manner, there was a very pleasurable sensation in it all.First I began to notice how firm and close and heavy the water felt, andhow it pressed against me. Then I began to think of how hard it was towalk, the water keeping me back; and directly after, as I steppedsuddenly in a soft place all mud, which seemed to ooze up between mytoes, the water came to my shoulders, and I felt as if I were beinglifted from my feet.
"I say how do you like it?" cried Day, who was swimming a few yardsaway.
"I don't know," I panted. "I think I like it."
"Oh, you'll soon think it glorious," he replied. "You'll love it assoon as you can swim."
The other two had waded on for some distance against the current, takingno further interest in me now I had made my plunge.
"I should like to swim," I said.
"Oh it's easy enough once you get used to it. That chap down belowthere swims twice as well as I can, but I don't know who he is."
"What shall I do first?" I asked.
"Oh, throw yourself flat on the water, and kick out your arms and legslike I do--like a frog. You'll soon learn. Now I'm going to swim up asfar as they are, and then let myself float back. You'll see me comedown. It's so easy. You watch."
"All right!" I said.
"You keep close in to the bank," he shouted; "the tide don't run there.Keep on trying to throw yourself down and kick out like a frog. You'llsoon swim."
I nodded, and stood holding on by a tuft of coarse sedge, watching himas he threw himself on his side, and went off pretty close to the bank,where the water was eddying; and the next minute he was beyond a clumpof sedge that projected into the river, and I was alone.
I felt no dread now, for the water seemed pleasantly cool, and I beganto grow more confident. The buoyancy was delicious, and I found that byholding on with both hands to the long rushes I could float on thewater, throwing myself down and keeping close to the surface, but withmy legs gradually sinking, till I gave them a kick and rose again.
I amused myself this way for a minute or two, and then, leaving the tuftof rushes, I began to wade slowly along with the water up to my chest,and every now and then I stooped down, so that it came above myshoulders, and struck out with my hands; but I dare not throw myselfflat with my legs off the bottom. That was too much to expect, and Ihad not recovered yet from the desperate plunge in, the recollection ofwhich made me wonder at my temerity.
It was very nice, that first lesson in the water's buoyancy, and as Ijumped up, or lowered myself down, or held on by the tufts by the brink,and let myself float, I could not help comparing myself to the soap inthe bathtub at home, for that almost floated, but gradually settled downto the bottom, just as my body seemed to do.
"I shall soon swim," I thought to myself; but I felt no inclination torisk the first plunge and begin the struggle. It was far more pleasantto keep on wading there with the water up to my chest, and the delicioussensation of novelty, half fear, half pleasure, making me now ventureout a few inches into deeper water, now shrink back towards the bank.
How beautiful it all seemed, with the mellow afternoon sunlight dancingon the water as a puff of warm wind came now and then along the river.The trees were so green and the sky so blue, and the barges, and horsesthat drew them by the towing-path on the other side, all seemed to addto my pleasure, for the barges seemed to glide along so easily, and theyfloated, and that was what I wanted to do.
I forgot all about my companions, who must have been a couple of hundredyards higher up the river, while I was wading down.
By degrees I found the water a little deeper, and I shrank from it atfirst, but I was close to the bank and had only to stretch out my handto catch hold of a tuft of grass or sedge, and, after the shrinkingsensation, it seemed pleas
ant to have the water higher up about myshoulders. It was so much harder to walk, and I could feel myselfalmost panting. Beside this there was a nice soft muddy bottom,pleasanter to the feet than the gravel where I had plunged in.
Yes: I thought it a much nicer place there, and I was slowly andcautiously wading on, while all at once I found the water seeming tocome in the opposite direction, curving round towards me in a placewhere the bank was scooped out.
It looked so smooth that I pressed on, taking one step forward, so thatthe water might rush up against me, and--then I was floating, for myfeet found no bottom, and with an excited thrill of delight I felt thatI could swim.
Yes; there was no doubt about it. I could swim as easily as George Day,only I was not moving my hands, while the water was bearing me up andcarrying me round as in a whirlpool just once, and then I was swept intothe tide-way with the water thundering in my ears, a horrible stranglingsensation in my nostrils, and a dimness coming over my aching eyes.
I could never remember much about it, only that it was all a confusionof thundering in my ears and rushing sounds. I kept on beating thewater with my hands as I had seen a dog beat the surface when he couldnot swim, and I seemed to throw my head right back as I gasped forbreath. But I do not remember that it was very horrible, or that I wasdrowning, as I surely was. Confusion is the best expression forexplaining my sensations as I was swept rapidly down by the tide.
What do I remember next? I hardly know. Only a sensation of some onecatching me by the wrist, from somewhere in the darkness that wasclosing me in. But the next thing after that is, I remember shutting myeyes, because the sun shone in them so fiercely as I lay on my back inthe grass, with my head aching furiously, and a strange pain at the backof my neck, as if some one had been trying to break my head off, as amischievous child would serve a doll.
Just then I heard some one sobbing and crying, and I felt as if I mustbe asleep and dreaming all this.
"Don't make that row. He's all right, I tell you. He isn't drowned.What's the good of making a row like that!"
It was George Day's voice, and opening my eyes I said hoarsely:
"What's the matter? Is he hurt?"
"No: it's only Harry Leggatt thought you were--you were hurt, you know.Can you get up, and run? All our clothes are two fields off. Come on.The sun will dry you."
I got up, feeling giddy and strange, and the aching at the back of myhead was almost unbearable; but I began to walk with Day holding myhand, and after a time--he guiding me, for I felt very stupid--I beganto trot; and at last, with my head throbbing and whirring, I foundmyself standing by my clothes, and my companions helped me to dress.
"You went out too far," Day said. "I told you not, you know."
I was shivering with cold and terribly uncomfortable with putting on mythings over my wet chilled body. It had been a hard task too,especially with my socks, but I hardly spoke till we were walking home,and when I did it was during the time I was smoothing my wet hair with apocket comb lent me by one of the boys.
"How was it I went too far?" I said at last, dolefully.
"I don't know," said Day. "I shouldn't have known anything if that chapShock hadn't come shouting to us; and when we came, thinking he wasgoing to steal our clothes, he brought us and showed us where he haddragged you out on to the bank. It was him we saw swimming when wefirst went in."
"Where is he now?" I said wearily. "Let's ask him all about it."
"I don't know," replied Day. "He ran off to dress himself, I suppose,and he didn't come back. But I say, you're better now."
"Oh yes!" I said, "I'm better now;" and by degrees the walk in the warmafternoon sunshine seemed to make me feel more myself; beside which Iwas dry when I got back home, but very low-spirited and dull.
I did not say anything, for my mother was lying down, and Mrs Beetonnever invited my confidence; beside which I felt ratherconscience-stricken, and after having my solitary tea I went to thewindow, feeling warmer, and less disposed to shiver.
And as I sat there about seven o'clock on that warm summer evening italmost seemed as if my afternoon's experience had been a dream, and thatShock had not swum out and saved me from drowning, for there he wasunder one of the pear-trees, with a switch and a piece of clay, throwingpellets at our house, one of which came right in at the open windowclose by my cheek, and struck against Mrs Beeton's cheffonier door.
Brownsmith's Boy: A Romance in a Garden Page 4