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Menhardoc: A Story of Cornish Nets and Mines, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 26. Uncle Abram Comes As An Ambassador... |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. UNCLE ABRAM COMES AS AN AMBASSADOR, AND GAINS HIS ENDS "I wanted to make our expedition," said Mr Temple, "but it is impossible, of course, to-day in the face of such a storm. What are you boys going to do?" "Read, papa," said Arthur. "It is too rough to go out." "And you, Dick?" "Ask you to lend me your Mackintosh, father. It's too rough to stay in. The sea's grand." Arthur had already taken up a book, but he now laid it down. "I don't think it rains, does it?" "No; only blows," replied Dick; "but when you get where the spray comes off the sea, it's like a shower." "I think we'll all go," said Mr Temple. "I want to test a few minerals first. Afterwards I should like to go down and have a look at the waves." It was settled that the boys should wait, and Mr Temple at once lit a spirit-lamp from a strong box of apparatus he had brought down; and, taking out a blow-pipe, he spent some little time melting, or calcining, different pieces of ore and stone that he had collected, one special piece being of white-looking mineral that took Dick's notice a good deal, for it seemed familiar. "Isn't that the stone you got in the place Will Marion showed to you, father?" "Yes, my boy," said Mr Temple; "why?" "Only I thought it was," said Dick. "Is it valuable?" "I don't know yet. Perhaps." "If it is valuable, will it do Will any good?" "I don't know yet about that either, my inquisitive young friend," said Mr Temple. "I think it ought if it's any good," said Dick after a pause, during which he had been watching his father attentively. "Do you?" said Mr Temple coldly; and he went on calcining a piece of the soft white stone, and then placing it in a mortar to grind it up fine. This done, he took the powder out and spread it upon a small glass slab, where he applied a few drops of water to it, and mixed and mixed till he had formed the white powder into a paste that looked like white clay. "I say, father," said Dick. "Yes." "Will would like to see what you are doing with that stuff. May I tell him?" "No," said Mr Temple, quietly kneading the white paste in his fingers and then examining it with a powerful lens. "I desire that you say no word about anything that you may see me doing. This is private work that to-day unknown to anyone else may be very valuable. Known to all the world, it might prove to be not very valuable, but absolutely worthless. Wait, my boy, and see." Waiting was always an unpleasant task for Dick Temple. Time never ran half fast enough for him, and to have to wait in what he called, after some one whom he had heard make use of the term, a state of mental anxiety, was something hard to be borne. Arthur calmly took a book, after glancing in the glass to see if his collar was quite right and his hair properly brushed. He could sit and read in the most placid manner; but Dick seemed to have quicksilver in his toes and fingers. He could not keep still, but was always on the fret to be doing something. In his eagerness to help he got into trouble three times with his father, his aid being given invariably at the wrong time, and generally resulting in his knocking over some bottle, disturbing a test, or breaking some delicate piece of apparatus. "I'm very sorry, father, I am indeed," he would say. "Nobody doubts your sorrow, Dick," cried Mr Temple; "but what I want is less sorrow and more care. You blunder on at everything instead of making a bit of a calculation first so as to see what you are about to do." "Well, I will, father, I will really. I'll always in future be as careful as--careful as--careful as Taff." Dick had been looking round the room for an example of care, and this suggested itself. Mr Temple smiled, and bent down over his minerals so that his boys should not see his face, as he noticed Arthur's ears turn red and a nervous twitch go through him preparatory to his looking up from his book. "No," said Mr Temple, "I do not wish you to be as careful as Arthur, my boy, or to take anyone else for a model. Be just your own natural self, and do your best to run straight on your journey through life. Don't try to run like others run; it may not always be in a good style." Arthur's eyes fell upon his book once more, and his ears became of a very deep crimson as he felt injured and touched in his dignity. "Papa might have said _yes_, and told Dick to imitate me," thought Arthur; and he went on with his reading, feeling very much ill used. "Mr Marion would like to speak to you, sir," said the landlord, coming in just then. "What, Will?" cried Dick eagerly. "No, Master Richard. I shouldn't have called him Mr Marion," said the landlord, smiling. "It's the old gentleman. May I show him in, sir?" "Yes, certainly;" and Uncle Abram came in, looking like a Finnan haddock in a glazed hat, for on account of the weather the old man was clothed from head to foot in yellow oilskins, and shone and twinkled with the drops of spray. "Sarvant, sir," he said, making dabs with his shiny sailor's hat as if to knock the drops off. "Sarvant, young gentleman,"--this was to Arthur, who rose and bowed stiffly--"how do, Master Dick, how do?" Uncle Abram beamed and shook Dick's hand heartily, seeming loth to loose it again, but he relented and turned to Mr Temple. "You'll excuse me, sir, for coming when you're busy; but it's to help a neighbour out of a difficulty." "Subscription?" said Mr Temple. "Subscription?" said Uncle Abram, dragging a great silk handkerchief from inside his oilskin and wiping the drops of spray from his face. "It was about your lodgings here, sir." "My lodgings?" said Mr Temple. "Yes, sir. You see neighbour here didn't like to speak to you 'bout the matter, and I said I would. Fact is, four fish-buyers from London come down here to stay with him every year regular all through the season, and you've got their rooms." "Oh! I have their rooms?" said Mr Temple. "That's it, sir, that's it," said Uncle Abram; "and when neighbour let 'em to you he thought you only wanted 'em for a few days." "And I've been here for a few weeks." "Toe be sure," said Uncle Abram. "And he wants me to turn out, eh?" said Mr Temple rather sternly, while Dick's countenance fell. "Turn out arn't the word, sir," said Uncle Abram. "We don't do that sort o' thing to gentlemen down here in the west countree. Man to man-- give and take--do to one another as you'd like one another to do unto you. That's our motter down here, sir. And neighbour he told me his difficulty. 'Nice gentleman, Mr Temple,' he says. 'Master Arthur a bit stiff, but Master Dick--there,' he says, says neighbour, 'you know what Master Dick be.' And I said I did, and I went home and had a chat with my nevvy Will, and then I attacked the missus, and here I be." "So I see," said Mr Temple rather dryly; "but really, Mr Marion, you haven't explained yourself very clearly." "I s'pose not," said Uncle Abram in a troubled way. "That's just like me. I never do. Getting old, you see." "Am I to understand that you are an ambassador from the landlord, and that he wants us to go?" "Well, something of that sort, sir," replied Uncle Abram, who was very busy wiping drops from his forehead that were not spray. "When do these fish-buyers come?" "To-day, sir." "To-day! Then why did he not speak sooner?" "Waited like, sir, to see if there might be a change of wind. You might want to go. They mightn't want to come. Things veers about, sir, sometimes." "I consider it disgraceful," said Mr Temple angrily, rising to touch the bell. "I'll speak to the landlord myself." "Steady, sir, steady," cried Uncle Abram. "Good neighbour o' mine, you see. Spoke to me 'bout it, and I said yes, and here I be." "Yes, yes," cried Mr Temple; "but am I to be thrown out without notice just at a time when I want particularly to stay?" "No, sir, of course not. That's what I keep explaining to you. Neighbour puts the case before me, and I says if the missus is willing nothing would please me better, and here I be." "But you do not explain matters," said Mr Temple. "What, not that Mrs Marion and your obedient sarvant to command, Abram Marion, ex Her Majesty's sarvice, would be glad if you'd make shift in our rooms--sittin', best, and two beds?" "No. You said nothing of the kind." "Think of that now," said Uncle Abram, smiling broadly. "That's just like me, Master Dick. Gettin' old, you see. But if you could work it round that way, sir, it would be making it pleasant for all parties, and we'd do the best up at the cottage to make you comfortable; and there's my boy Will and our Josh and the boat at your sarvice, and there you are; and neighbour below don't upset his old friends." "I shall be delighted, Mr Marion, I'm sure," said Mr Temple, holding out his hand, which the old fellow shook heartily, bestowing a solemn wink on Dick at the same time. "That's a bargain then, sir?" said the old fellow, going to the door, and shouting, "Lan'ord, ahoy!" in a voice of thunder, and then coming back to open the window and yell, "Will, ahoy! Go and tell her as it's settled." Then he banged to the window, and turned round as the landlord came in smiling and looking greatly relieved. "Gentleman says it's all right, neighbour," said Uncle Abram. "Thank ye heartily, neighbour," said the landlord, "and you too, Mr Temple, sir. It's kep' me awake for nights." The result was that the little party moved bodily to Uncle Abram's that morning, their luggage being conveyed, as soon as possible by Josh and Will; and directly they were in the pleasant sea-side rooms Uncle Abram took Dick round the place to point out various objects about the walls. "Welcome to 'em as the flowers is to May, my lad," he said with a good many nods and winks; "only wipe 'em dry and put 'em back when done-- spy-glass, oilskins, big boots, fishing-lines, nets, and curiosities for a wet day, box o' dominoes for the wet nights. Make yourself at home." Slap on the back. This last was a sort of seal to finish the welcome; and then the old man went back to his garden to stand in the rockery, which served as a look-out, and scan the horizon with his glass. Mr Temple was delighted with the change, for, in spite of the quiet respectability of the Cornish fishermen and their bluff, pleasant ways, a fishing port inn, even in a west-country village, is not always perfect as a place for a sojourn; while Uncle Abram's home was a pattern of neatness, and Aunt Ruth seemed very amiably disposed towards her guests. _ |
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