Chapter 29. Mr. Temple Learns More Of Will...

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_ CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. MR. TEMPLE LEARNS MORE OF WILL MARION'S CHARACTER WRITTEN IN STONES.

"Don't say anything about it, my lad, to Will; he don't like it known," said Uncle Abram one day; "and I wouldn't let out about it to his aunt."

"I won't tell anybody but Taff and my father," said Dick.

Uncle Abram took his pipe out of his mouth and scratched the side of his nose with it very softly, as he looked out through the window, and its climbing-roses, to sea.

Mrs Marion had gone into Corntown marketing; Arthur was up the cliff reading in a snug corner he affected; Mr Temple had gone out alone along the cliff "on an exploring trip," he had said with a smile; and Will was down with Josh at the lugger "overhauling," as Josh called it, which meant running over the nets previous to a visit to the pilchard ground.

Dick was just going to join them when Uncle Abram, who was fumigating his rose-trees and enjoying his pipe at the same time, made him a signal, as he called it, and asked him if he would like to see Will's room.

"Well," said the old man, after a good deal of scratching with the red waxed end of his tobacco pipe.

"I s'pose you're right, Master Richard, sir. I say don't tell Will, because he's so modest like, and don't want people to know; and, I say, don't tell his aunt, because she's so particular like with him, and if she know'd all, she'd think he was neglecting his regular work, and that if he could find time, you see, for doing this sort of thing, he could be doing more to the boats. But I don't see why your brother should not know, and I don't hold with a lad keeping anything from his father."

"And who wants to keep anything from his father?" said Mr Temple, who was just passing the window on his return. "What is it?" he continued, entering the room.

"Oh, nothing, sir; only I was going to show Master Richard here our Will's room, and I was asking him to be a bit secret like for the lad's sake. Mrs Marion, you see, is a--"

"Oh, yes, I understand," said Mr Temple. "May I come too?"

"If you please, sir," said the old man smiling. "It's in your way rather, you see, both of you being a bit fond of chip-chopping stones; not that there's many up there now, for you see his aunt makes the lad clear 'em away now and then. Won't have the litter, she says. But I've got 'em all in a box down in my toolshed, where the boy can have 'em when he likes."

"Let's go and see his room, then," said Mr Temple, smiling.

"'Tarn't much of a place, sir, being a garret," said Uncle Abram apologetically; "but lads as goes to sea has snugger quarters sometimes than our Will's."

He put his pipe back in his mouth--it was out now--and held it steady as he led the way to a door in a corner at the end of the passage, and up a very steep flight of stairs to a little room with sloping ceiling, over the kitchen.

"I had this knocked up for the lad o' purpose," said Uncle Abram proudly. "Made it as like a cabin as I could, meaning him to be sea-going, you understand, sir, only he's drifting away from it like. Why, bless your heart, though, Mr Temple, sir, I never find no fault with him, for there's stuff enough in him, I think, to make a real lord-mayor. There: there's our Will's room."

He stood smiling as the visitors had a good look round the scrupulously clean little cabin-like bed-room with lockers and a swinging shelf of books, and everything arranged with a neatness that was most notable.

"Those are his books, sir. Spends a deal of time over 'em."

"Novels and romances, eh?" said Mr Temple, going to the shelf. "Why, hullo! Fowne's _Chemistry_, Smyth's _Mineralogy_, Murchison's _Geology_. Rather serious reading for him, isn't it?"

"Not it, sir," cried Uncle Abram. "He loves it, sir; and look here," he continued, opening one of the lockers; "as full of specimens as can be. All sorts of stones and bits of ore that he gets from the mines. Ah! that's a new net he's making; small meshed seine to catch sand-eels, sir, for bait. That's a new shrimp-net he made for me. Mixes it up like--reads and makes nets together. Once you've got your fingers to know how to make a net, they'll go on while you read."

"What are these?" said Mr Temple, pointing at a series of rough glass bottles and oil flasks.

"Oh, that's his apparatus he made, sir. Does chemistry with them, and there's a little crucible in my tool-house, where he melts down tin and things sometimes, to see what they're made of. I always encourage him, I do, just. Can't do the boy any harm."

"Harm! no," said Mr Temple quietly, as he glanced through Will's treasures with a good deal of curiosity, spending most of the time over a small glass case which was full of glittering pieces of ore.

"He seems to like the pretty bits best," said Mr Temple; but Uncle Abram shook his head.

"Oh no, sir. Those are what his aunt likes best. She won't have the bits of tin and rough copper ore; says they're rubbish, bless her. She don't know what one bit's worth more than another, only goes by the eye, you see. I've got the rough bits hid away for him when he wants 'em."

Mr Temple seemed unusually thoughtful, so it seemed to Dick, who was delighted with the quaintness of the little attic, and declaring to himself that it was just the place he should like for himself; but he wondered a little bit at his father looking so stern.

"Here, quick!" cried Uncle Abram excitedly; "that's my boy's step coming in back way. I don't want him to see us. Looks like spying on him, poor lad, and I want him to enjoy himself when he isn't at work."

"And quite right too," said Mr Temple quietly, as he followed the old man down the steep stairs, and they had just reached the parlour when there was a knock at the door.

"Beg pardon, sir," said Will, who was flushed with hurrying; "but you said you would like the young gentlemen to have a sail in the trawler."

"Sail in the trawler!" cried Dick, bounding across the room excitedly.

"Yes! Well?" said Mr Temple, smiling.

"She's lying off the harbour, sir. I've seen the master, and he says the young gentlemen are welcome, and there's a fine breeze, sir, and it's a lovely day."

Dick turned a look upon his father, such as a prisoner might turn upon a judge as he waited for him to speak.

"I suppose you would not like to go, Dick?" said Mr Temple dryly. "You would miss your dinner."

"Why, father," cried Dick in a tone of reproach, "I can have a dinner every day."

"And a sail in a trawler only once perhaps in your life. Then be off."

Dick bounded to the door and then stopped.

"May Taff come, father?" he cried.

"If he likes; but perhaps he wouldn't care to go. Make him sea-sick perhaps."

"But he may go, father?"

"Yes. But stop. Take something to eat with you in a basket."

"The master of the smack said if the young gentlemen would come in they could have a bit of dinner on board. We could cook some fish, sir."

"Oh!" cried Dick excitedly.

"Come, this is tempting," said Mr Temple. "I'm half disposed to come too."

"Do, father," cried Dick, catching his hand. "Oh, do come."

"No, my boy, I have some important business on hand. There, go and enjoy yourselves. You're going, Will?" he said quietly.

"Yes, sir, if uncle can spare me, and Josh too."

"That's right; take care of my boys--that is, if your uncle can spare you."

"Oh yes, oh yes! They can go. They don't sail for the pilchard ground till sundown."

Arthur was hunted out of his nest, and as soon as he knew of the object in view he displayed plenty of eagerness. The sight of the cutter-rigged smack lying with her bowsprit pointing to the wind, and her white mainsail flapping and quivering in the breeze, which seemed to send mimic waves chasing each other along it from mast to edge, while the jib lay all of a heap waiting to be hoisted, being one that would have roused the most phlegmatic to a desire to have a cruise, and see some of the wonders of the deep dredged up.

The master of the trawler gave the boys a hearty reception, his bronzed face expanding into a smile as he held Dick's hand in his great hard brown heavy paw.

"So you've come a-trawling, have you, my lad? Well, I'm glad to see you, and you too, sir," he added, shaking hands with Arthur in turn. "Going to stop aboard, lads?" he said in a kind of chant to Will and Josh.

"Ay, we're going to stop," said the latter; so the master of the trawler sent one of his own crew ashore with Uncle Abram's boat, telling the man he could stay.

The next minute the master gave the word, and went to the tiller, a couple of men began to haul up the jib, and then Arthur was clinging frantically to Will.

"Quick! The boat!" he cried. "The ship's going over."

Then he turned from deadly pale to scarlet as he saw Will's smile and look of amusement.

"It's all right, Master Arthur," said the latter; "it's the wind taking hold of the mains'l. She only careens a bit."

"But won't it go over?"

"Over! Oh, no!" said Will; "there's too much ballast. There, you see, now we're beginning to move."

"But ought the boat to go side wise like this?" whispered Arthur. "The deck's all of a slope."

"Oh, yes, that's right enough. When we're on the other tack she'll careen over the other side. The stiffer the breeze and the more sail there is, the more she careens. I've been in a smack when we've been nearly lying down in the water, and it's washed right over the deck."

"There, young gents, she's moving now," said the master, as the gaff was hoisted, and the beautifully-shaped cutter began to rush through the water at a rapid rate, leaving two long lines of foam in an ever-widening wake, while, like some gigantic sword-fish, she ploughed her way through the glittering sea. The sails bellied out tense and stiff, and the wind whistled as it seemed to sweep off the three sails.

There was no doubt about it; either the cutter was moving or the pier and shore. To Arthur it seemed as if the latter had suddenly begun to run away from them, and was dancing up and down with joy because it had found the chance.

"Dick," whispered Arthur, after beckoning his brother to his side, where he was holding on by the weather shrouds.

"Hullo!" cried Dick, laughing. "Oh, I say, Taff, isn't it fun? I can't walk."

"I'm sure it isn't safe," whispered Arthur.

"Eh? What? Not safe?"

"No, I'm sure it isn't. We shall be blown over."

"Oh, never mind," said Dick. "They'll turn her round and blow her up again. I say, Taff; don't be afraid. We sha'n't hurt."

"But if we were to be drowned, Dick, what would papa say?"

"Don't know. He wouldn't like it, though. But we sha'n't be drowned. Look at Will. He'd know if there was any danger, and he's as cool as can be. Come, pluck up. Let go of that rope. You'll soon get used to it."

Arthur turned a ghastly face to him.

"I'm trying to master being frightened, Dick," he said humbly; "but I must go home again; I'm going to be sick."

"Nonsense!" cried Dick, laughing. "There, think about something else. There, look, they're going to use the net."

To Arthur's great delight the speed of the smack was checked, and the busy preparations took up his attention, so that the qualm passed off, and he crept to his brother's side and listened as Josh was explaining the use of the trawl-net, which the men were about to lower over the side.

"There you are, you see," said Josh; "here's your net, just like a night-cap with a wide end and a little end, as we calls the bunt. There's pockets to it as well, only you can't very well see 'em now. When she's hauled up with fish in you'll see 'em better then."

"And what's this big piece of wood?"

"Trawl-beam," said Josh; "thirty-footer, to keep the meshes of the net stretched wide open at the top. Bottom's free so as to drag over the bottom. And them's the trawl-irons, to fit on the end of the beam and skate along the sand and keep all down."

"And the rope's tied to them?" said Dick.

"Rope?" said Josh. "You mean the bridle. That's right, my lad, and down she goes."

Over went the huge, cumbersome apparatus of beam, irons, and net, the weighty irons being so arranged as to take the trawl to the bottom in the right position so that the net with its stout edge rope should scrape over the sand as the cutter sailed.

"There you are," said the master, coming up; "now, then, away we go. There's a fine wind this morning, and we shall get some fish."

"Does the wind make you get the fish?" said Dick.

"To be sure, my lad. If we weren't sailing fast, as soon as the flat-fish felt the net being dragged over 'em they'd give a flip and a flap and be out of the way in no time; but the trawl's drawn over 'em so quickly in a brisk breeze like this that they haven't time to escape. They're in the net before they know where they are, and then they get into the pockets, and it's a case of market for them."

"It's all sand under here, isn't it?" asked Dick.

"You may be sure of that, my lad," said the master laughing. "When you see a smack trawling, it's all sand there, says you. 'Cause why? If it was rocks the trawl would catch and be broken before you knowed where you were. Yes; it's all smooth bottom here."

It was wonderfully interesting to see the great strong beam and the thick net, so different in the make to the filmy cobwebs that were used for seine and drift. This was of stout cord, and its edge of a strong over-bound rope. Of course all was out of sight now, the only thing visible being the bridle-rope, by means of which the trawl was being swiftly dragged astern.

"I hope we shall get a good haul or two," said Will, joining the boys as they stood holding on by the bulwarks, with the great mainsail boom over their heads, everything that looked so small and toy-like from the shore being here big and strong.

"What shall we catch?" said Arthur, making an effort to hide the remains of his discomposure.

"Get, sir?" cried Will smiling. "Oh! all sorts of things. If we're lucky, a turbot or two; soles we are sure to have, and some plaice; perhaps a brill; then there'll be a few dabs and whiting, and maybe a red mullet, and along with them the trawl will bring up a lot of all sorts."

"All sorts?" said Dick.

"Yes, sir. Weevers and blennies, and crabs, with oysters and scallops, and sea-weeds of all kinds--a regular mixture if we go over a part that hasn't been much swept lately."

"Here, I say, when are they going to pull up the net?" said Dick eagerly. "I want to see."

"Oh! not yet awhile," said Will smiling.

"But the fish will get out again."

"Oh no! We're going too fast for that," said Will; "and if there are any fish they'll be in the pockets."

"But has a trawl-net got pockets?" said Arthur curiously.

"Oh yes!" said Dick grinning; "two in its trousers, two in its waistcoat, and one in its jacket."

"Don't you mind what he says, Master Arthur," said Will smiling. "The pockets are on each side of the net, where it is sewed up a little, so that if the fish, when once in, try to swim towards the mouth they go instead into some of those sewed-up corners and get no farther. There, you see now, we're going on the other tack so as to sweep back over nearly the same ground again. There are rocks if we go any farther this way."

As he spoke the course of the smack was altered, and the side that had been so low down that at times it was almost possible to touch the water was high up and the other lower down, and the smack rushed through the water, as it seemed, faster than ever.

"She can sail, can't she, young gentlemen?" said the master. "We call her the _Foam_, and she can make foam too. Well, are you ready for the haul?"

"Yes. Are you going to begin?" cried Dick excitedly.

"Soon, my lad, soon," said the master. "Have you got a basket?"

Dick shook his head.

"Oh! you'll want a basket, and you must have a bucket of water. There'll be lots of things you'll like to look at that we should pitch overboard again."

"You lend me a basket and a bucket then," said Dick; "you shall have them back."

"Right, my lad. You tell young Will there to get you what you want. We shall have the trawl aboard soon."

It seemed to Dick almost an age, but at last the master turned his brown, good-humoured face to him and gave him a nod. At the same moment he shouted a few short orders, and Dick rushed to take a pull at the rope as he saw Josh and Will stand by.

"No, no, my lad; you and your brother look on," cried the master good-temperedly.

Dick drew back and glanced at Arthur, whose face was as eager as his own. In fact, a great deal of his London indifference had disappeared of late, and the boy had been growing as natural as his brother.

It was a time of intense excitement though for them, and as they watched they saw a windlass turn, and up came the great trawl-irons and the beam, then, dripping and sparkling in the sun, the foot-rope of the trawl-net, and foot after foot emerged with nothing but dripping water.

"Why, they haven't caught a fish," cried Dick in a disappointed tone of voice.

"You wait till the bunt's aboard," growled Josh just then; and the bunt, as the tassel end of the great net night-cap was called, was hauled on board dripping, and containing something splashing, flapping, and full of life.

"There's something for you to look at, my lads," cried the bluff master smiling. "Let out that draw string, Josh."

The whole of the net was now on the deck, the water streaming from it out at the side; and after Josh had unfastened the string which laced up the small end or bunt, the little crew took hold of the net above the pockets, and by giving it a series of shakes sent the whole of its contents out upon the deck. The net was then drawn away, the bunt fastened up, the end thrown over, and the trawl-beam took all down to scrape once more over the sands and scoop-out the soles and other flat-fish that are so fond of scuffling themselves down in the soft oozy sand, flapping their side-fins about till they are half covered, and very often letting the trawl-rope pass right over their backs.

A good many had, however, failed to be successful this time, for there was a great patch of the deck covered with the contents of the net.

"I never saw such a sight in my life," cried Dick; and then he burst into a roar of laughter as his brother tried to pick up a large sole, which seemed to give a spring and a flap, and darted out of his hands.

It was a sight, certainly; and the master good-humouredly let the men stand aside for a while so that the boys might have a good inspection of the haul before clearance was made.

"Overboard with the rubbish, my lads," he said, "then you can see better."

But the rubbish, a great deal of it, was what Dick and his brother would have liked to keep, as much of it consisted of pieces of heavy black wood pierced by teredo and covered with barnacles. There were curious stones, too, and pieces of weed, all of which had to go overboard though, and then, as Dick called it, the fun began.

It was a good haul. And first and foremost there was a magnificent turbot--a huge round fellow, with his white waistcoat, and mouth awry, apparently, though it was normally placed, and the creature's eyes, like those of the rest of the flat-fish, were screwed round to one side of its head.

Then there was a brill, like the turbot's small first cousin, and a young turbot that might have been its son. There were a dozen or so of plaice, large and small, and, flipping and flapping and gasping, some five-and-twenty soles, from fine fat fellows fifteen inches long to little tiny slips that were thrown overboard.

"Some sends that sort to market," said the master smiling. "I throw 'em in again to get fat."

Arthur's adventures with the conger came back to him as he saw one long lithe fish of some four feet eagerly seized and thrust into one of the many stout boxes on the deck; and he said something to his brother.

"No," said Will, who overheard him. "That's a hake."

There were several whitings, many being of very large size, four times that of the familiar tail-biting gentlemen who are curled up among the parsley upon our tables. No less than a dozen ruddy mullet were there too; and the above-named being the good fish of the haul, the residue was left on deck for the boys to examine and save what they pleased.

Will picked out a small brill and a whiting or two, with a good-sized sole that had been left. These were placed in the basket, and then the basket was dipped full of clean water, and the treasures, as Dick called them, were fished out and dropped in.

Among these were a lovely jelly-fish and a couple of beroes, looking like little oblong balls of the purest crystal; some pieces of stone, with curious barnacles adhering; and a quaint-looking, large-headed fish with prickly weapons about its head and back.

Then Arthur added a baby sole, and Dick an infant turbot, which were entangled amongst the sea-weed that had been dredged up; while everywhere the patch of dredgings upon the deck seemed to be alive with creeping and crawling things, examples of the teeming life of the great ocean.

Then came the master to intimate that the deck must be cleared, for they were going to haul the dredge on board again.

"What--so soon?" cried Dick.

"So soon--eh?" said the master. "Why, you've been stirring that up 'bout half an hour."

"Ah! well, we shall have something more to see," said Dick in a reconciled manner; and he carried his basket astern, while the men swept the remains of the haul--such remains as would have given a naturalist a week's amusement--overboard.

Then once more the ponderous trawl was hauled on board, with its flapping and splashing prisoners, which were nearly as abundant as before; but there was no turbot this time.

"Don't matter," said Dick; "here's the sauce."

As he spoke he pointed laughingly to a great lobster which had been out on its travels away from its home amongst the rocks, and had been swept up, to be turned out upon the smack's deck, to crawl about flapping its tail and opening and closing its pincers, held aloft in the most aggressive way.

"Ah!" said the master thoughtfully, "that won't do. We must have gone a little too near the tail of the rocks when we tacked."

"I thought you was going pretty close," said Josh, "but I said as you know'd best."

The boxes were dragged forward again, and soles and plaice were thrust in, flapping and springing in their captors' hands. Then the whiting were sorted into their home, the sundry fish that were worth saving placed in another box, and once more the visitors were allowed to have their turn in the heap, till, amidst such an embarrassment of riches, as the French call it, Dick stopped short with a laughing, puzzled face, to rub his ear.

"There's such a lot," he cried. "There's so much to see, I don't know what to take first, and what to leave."

It resulted in nearly everything going overboard,--tiny fish entangled in sea-weed, curious stones, dog-fish, and skates' eggs, barnacles, pieces of hard English sponge, bones of cuttle-fish, and scallop and oyster-shells; but one basket was set aside for Mr Temple by Will, who stored in it a fair number of delicious oysters and scallops, whose beautiful shells were bearded with lovely weeds like ferns or plumes of asparagus, while one that gaped open showed his flesh to be of the most brilliant orange scarlet hue.

And so it went on hour after hour, the fresh breeze making the trawling most successful, and at every haul there were so many treasures that at last Dick gave up collecting in despair, confiding his opinion to his brother that the happiest life anybody could lead must be that of the master of a trawler.

Towards four o'clock they were sent ashore with Josh and Will, loaded with bucket and basket of the treasures they had found, including a handsome lot of fish for Mr Temple, with the master's compliments.

"Why, Taff," said Dick suddenly, "you were going to be sea-sick, weren't you, when we started off?"

"Yes," said Arthur uneasily, and then smiling, he added, "I forgot all about it."

"Forgot all about it!" said Dick. "I should think so. Why, it wouldn't matter how bad a fellow were: a day's trawling would make him well." _

Read next: Chapter 30. Taff Objects To Early Rising...

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