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Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 21. The Knife Bob Wanted |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. THE KNIFE BOB WANTED In half an hour the luggers were close together off the Gap with their sails flapping, and the French skipper jumped into the boat with us, and rowed to the _Saucy Lass_, on board of which we had long before descried my father and the doctor along with old Jonas Uggleston. We leaped up the side eagerly, and yet with fear and trembling, not knowing what our reception might be, and a few words explained all. "Humph!" said old Jonas, "nice chase we've had after you. Well, I suppose I mustn't after all." He picked up a capstan-bar, and balanced it in his hands before throwing it down under the little bulwark with a loud clatter. "Mustn't what, father?" said Bigley. "Knock you down with that, as you've had such a rough time of it. I was in hopes that you were all three drowned." "And he went himself to see and find ze bodies, and sheat ze sharks!" cried the French skipper laughing, and clapping us on the shoulders. "Perhaps Captain Duncan, my landlord, would like to use that bar on his boy!" growled old Jonas sourly. "No!" said my father bluffly, "I can preserve discipline, Mr Uggleston, without treating my boy like a dog. Come, Sep, my lad, let's get ashore." "The doctor, then?" said old Jonas, with his eyes twinkling maliciously. "What, to knock my boy down, Uggleston? No, thank you, sir. I've little things at home that will put him to bed for a fortnight and keep him quiet without giving myself a job to mend his broken bones." He looked at Bob, and I saw my school-fellow turn yellow and shudder as if he were about to take a dose of some horribly nauseous medicine. Just then Bob caught my eye, and I suppose he saw that I was amused, for he doubled his fist, and showed his teeth in a snarl just like a disagreeable dog who had been threatened by a stranger with a stick. "My faith, gentlemen," said the French skipper, "ze boys is brave boys and make fine sailor. Zey fight zis bad storm. Zey vin ze storm, and behold me here ve are!" "Captain Gualtiere," said my father, holding out his hand, "as an old sailor, sir, to one of the same noble profession, I thank you for your kindness to my son." "Mon capitaine, I you embrace with my heart whole!" cried the French skipper. "It is vell, Capitaine Ugglees-stone. Ve vill land ourselves. Mon vieux brave--to your home, and trink von 'tit verre of ze bon spee-reete vis ze friens. Come." Jonas Uggleston nodded his head and exchanged a peculiar look with the Frenchman. "Let's get ashore," he said. "You, Bill, I'll come out again by and by. Get her fast to the buoy." Binnacle Bill growled and crept behind us boys to watch his opportunity, and give us each a nod, a wink, and a furtive shake of the hand. Then the boat was hauled alongside, we descended, and Bigley pulled us ashore, where, almost in silence, and evidently a very uncomfortable party, we walked up to the cottage where Mother Bonnet was in waiting, and her first act was to rush at Bigley, hug him, kiss him soundly on both cheeks, and burst into tears. I was afraid it was coming my way, and drew back; but it was of no use, for the old woman seized me, and I had to be kissed in the same way, while Bob Chowne submitted to the same operation with a worse grace than mine. "Not a wink of sleep--not a wink of sleep--not a wink of sleep all night!" the old woman kept on sobbing over and over again. "Master Bigley--Master Bigley, I was afraid I should never see you any more!" "Brave vomans? Ha, ha! Brave vomans!" cried the Frenchman. "Look here, Duncan!" said the doctor. "I don't think we'll trouble Mr Uggleston any more. We want to get back home." "Yes," said my father; "but--" He made a movement with his head towards the French skipper. "Oh, come along, Captain Duncan," growled old Jonas surlily. "You must drink a glass with him. I won't poison you this time." "Thanks, Uggleston," said my father quietly; and, intimate as I was with Bigley, school-fellows and companions as we were, I could not help noticing the difference, and how thoroughly my father was the gentleman and Jonas Uggleston the commonplace seafaring man. "Here, Mother Bonnet!" cried old Jonas, "the boys want something. You see to them." The old woman took us into her kitchen, as she called it, and attended to our wants; but I could hear what went on in the other room, and the French skipper's words as they all partook of something together. Ten minutes after, my father called me by name, and I found him waiting with the doctor outside, the Frenchman beaming on all in turn. "Ve are ze old amis, le vieux--ze old Jonas and myselfs. Sare, I am been glad I receive ze boys on my sheep." "And I thank you, captain," replied my father. "You have saved my boy's life. Will you accept this in remembrance? It is old but good." My father drew out his plain gold watch, and I saw the Frenchman's eyes glisten as he stretched out a not very clean hand. But he snatched it back directly. "Mais non--but no!" he exclaimed. "I not have hims. We are sailors all. Some day I am in open boat, and you take me in your sheep, and say 'Ma foi! Pauvre fellow, you cold--you hoongrai--you starve youselfs.' And you give me hot grogs, and varm fires, and someting to eats. I no give you ze gold vatch. Mais non--mais non--mais non. Voila. I take zat hankshife, blue as ze skies of France, and I wear him roun' my necks. Give me hims." My father smiled and then unknotted the bright blue silk neckerchief he wore, and accompanied it with a hearty shake of the hand. "Thank you, captain," he said warmly. "And you--merci. We go to war some day. Who know I may be prisonaire. I may come to fight against you, and then. Eh bien, ve fight, but you take me prisonaire, ma foi. I am vis ze shentleman, and it is good." "And now it's my turn," said the doctor. "Will you keep this, captain, from me?" "Ma foi. Yais, oui," cried the French skipper, whose eyes sparkled with pleasure as the doctor handed him a very bright peculiarly-formed knife. "I keep hims. Vat is ze mattaire vis ze young shipwrecked open boatman?" "Nothing--nothing at all," said Bob Chowne hastily; but he had certainly uttered a groan. "As for you, Uggleston," cried the doctor, "I sha'n't offer you a present, for you'll want me some day to mend your head, or cut off a leg or a wing. Only, recollect I'm in your debt." "As for me, Mr Uggleston," said my father. "There--there, that will do," cried old Jonas surlily. "We ar'n't such very bad friends, are we?" "I hope not," said my father, and we took our leave, being embraced by the French skipper, who said that we should meet again, shaking hands with old Jonas, and giving Binnacle Bill a crown piece, which my father slipped into my hand for him, making the old red-faced fellow's eyes twinkle as he exclaimed: "Ba-c-co!" Then we started homeward in the lowest of spirits, we two boys expecting the most severe of lectures; but to our intense surprise and delight we were allowed to drop behind, for our elders were deep in conversation about the mine. Then it was that, after hanging more and more behind, Bob Chowne relieved his feelings. "It was a shame--it was too bad!" he kept on grumbling. "What was too bad--what was a shame?" I cried. "Why, for father to give old Parley Vous that knife!" "Why?" I said wonderingly. "Why? Because it was such a good un. I've tried to coax him out of it lots o' times. It was as sharp as sharp, and he used to use it to cut off fingers and toes, and that sort of thing. He never would give it to me, because he said it was good for operating, and now that old Frenchee Frenchee will use it for toasting frogs over his nasty little stove." "Here, you boys, come up here," said the doctor just then. We crept up very unwillingly, for the lecture was evidently going to begin. "I thought we'd tell you," said the doctor in his grimmest fashion, "we're going to find out a school where there are no holidays, and send you there." But they did not, for in due time we went back to Barnstaple, and I had the last of my education there. _ |
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