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The Lost Middy: Being the Secret of the Smugglers' Gap, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 3 |
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_ CHAPTER THREE. In his excitement it seemed to Aleck that the real fight was now about to begin, for the little mob of boys uttered an angry yell upon seeing their champion's downfall, and were crowding in. But he was wrong, for a gruff voice was heard from the fishermen, who had at last bestirred themselves to see more of what they called the fun, and another deep-toned voice, accompanying the pattering of two wooden legs, came from the direction of the steps. "Here, that'll do, you dogs!" cried the first voice, and-- "Stand fast, Master Aleck, I'm a-coming," cried the other. The effect on the boys was magical, and they gave way in all directions before the big fisherman who had asked for the "iles" for his shoulders, a medicament he did not seem to require, for his joints worked easily as he threw out his arms with a mowing action, right and left, and with a force that would have laid the inimical lads down in swathes if they had not got out of the way. "Well done, young Aleck Donne," he cried. "Licked Big Jem, have yer? Hansum too. Do him good. Get up--d'yer hear--before I give yer my boot! I see yer leading the lot on arter the young gent, like a school o' dogfish. Hullo, Tom, you was nigher. Why didn't yer come up and help the young gen'leman afore?" "'Cause I didn't know what was going on, matey," cried the sailor. "Why didn't yer hail me, Master Aleck?" "Because I didn't want to be helped," cried the boy, huskily, his voice quivering with indignation. "A set of cowards!" "So they are, Master Aleck," cried the sailor, joining in the lad's indignation. "On'y wish I'd knowed. I'd ha' come up with the boat-hook." "Never mind; it arn't wanted," said the big fisherman. "Young Mr Donne's given him a pretty good dressing down, and if this here pack arn't off while their shoes are good we'll let him give it to a few more." "I want to know what their fathers is about," growled the sailor. "I never see such a set. They're allus up to some mischief." "Ay, ay, that's a true word," cried another fisherman. "That's so," growled the sailor, who, as he spoke, kept on brushing Aleck down and using his forearm as a brush to remove the dust and _debris_ from the champion's jacket. "Pity he didn't leather another couple of 'em," cried the big fisherman. "Ay," growled the sailor. "I don't want to say anything unneighbourly, but it seems a pity that some on 'em don't get swep' up by the next press-gang as lands. A few years aboard a man-o'-war'd be the best physic for some o' them. Look at all this here rubbidge about! I see 'em. Got it ready to fling at the young gent. I know their games." "Nay, nay," said the big fisherman, as a low, angry murmur arose, and ignoring the allusion to the fish _debris_ lying about, "we don't want no press-gangs meddling here." "Yes, you do," said the sailor, angrily, as he applied a blue cotton neckerchief he had snatched off and shaken out, alternately to a cut on Aleck's forehead and to his swollen nose, which was bleeding freely. "Nice game this, arn't it? I know what I'm saying. I was pressed myself when I was twenty, and sarved seven year afore I come home with a pension. It made a man o' me, and never did me no harm." There was a hoarse roar of laughter at this, several of the fishermen stamping about in their mirth, making the sailor cease his ministrations and stand staring, and beginning to mop his hot forehead with the neckerchief. "What are yer grinning at?" he said, angrily, with the result that the laughter grew louder. "Have I smudged my face with this here hankychy, Master Aleck?" said the sailor, turning to the boy, who could not now refrain from smiling in turn. But Aleck was saved the necessity of replying to the question by the big fisherman, who spoke out in a grimly good-humoured way, as he cast his eyes up and down the dwarfed man-o'-war's man: "Lookye here, Tom, mate," he said, good-humouredly, "I don't know so much about never doing you no harm, old chap." "What d'yer mean?" growled the sailor. "What about yer legs, mate?" cried another of the men. The sailor stared round at the group, and then a change came over him, and he bent down and gave his hip a sounding slap. "I'm blest!" he cried, with the angry looks giving place to a broad smile. "I'm blest! I never thought about my legs!" There was another roar of laughter now, in which Tom Bodger joined. "But lookye here, messmates, what's a leg or two? Gone in the sarvice o' the King and country, I says. Here am I, two-and-thirty, with ninepence a day as long as I live, as good a man as ever I was--good man and true. Who says I arn't?" "Nobody here, Tom, old mate," cried the big fisherman, giving the sailor a hearty slap on the shoulder. "Good mate and true, and as good a neighbour as we've got in Rockabie. Eh, lads?" "Ay, ay!" came in a hearty chorus. "There, Tom, so say all of us; but none o' that about no press-gangs, mate," cried the big fisherman. "The King wants men for his ships, but all on us here has our wives and weans. What was all right for a lad o' twenty would be all wrong for such as we." "Ay, that's true," said the sailor, "and I oughtn't to ha' said it; but look at Master Aleck here. Them boys--" "Yes, yes, boys is boys, and allus was and allus will be, as long as there's land and sea. Some on 'em'll get a touch o' rope's-end after this game, I dessay. Lookye here, Master Aleck Donne, you come up to my place, and the missus'll find you a tin bowl o' water, a bit o' soap, and a clean towel. You won't hurt after a wash, but be able to go home as proud as a tom rooster. You licked your man, and the captain'll feel proud of you, for Big Jem was too much of a hard nut for such a chap as you. Come on, my lad." "No, no, thank you," said Aleck, warmly; "I want to get back home now. I don't want to show Mrs Joney a face like this." "Nay, my lad, she won't mind; and--" "Tom Bodger's going to sail my boat home," put in the boy, hastily, "and I shall hang over the side and bathe my face as I go. I say, all of you, I'm sorry I got into this bit of trouble, but it wasn't my fault." "Course it wasn't," said the fisherman. "We all know that, and you've give some on 'em a lesson, my lad. Well, if you won't come, my lad, you won't." "It's only because I want to get back home," said Aleck, warmly. "It's very kind of you all the same." A few minutes later the boy was seated in the stern of the boat, while Tom Bodger stood up, looking as if he, too, were sitting, as he thrust the little craft along by means of the boat-hook and the pier walls, while the fishermen walked along level with them to the end, where half a dozen of the boys had gathered. "Give him a cheer, lads," said the big fisherman, and a hearty valediction was given and responded to by Aleck, who took off and waved his cap. But just then a hot-blooded and indignant follower of defeated Big Jem let his zeal outrun his discretion. Waiting till the group of fishermen had turned their backs, he ran to the very end of the pier, uttered a savage "Yah!" and hurled the very-far-gone head of a pollock after the boat. The next minute he was repenting bitterly, for the big fisherman made four giant strides, caught him by the waistband, and the next moment held him over the edge of the pier and would have dropped him, struggling and yelling for mercy, into the sea, but Aleck sprang up and shouted an appeal to his big friend to let the boy go. "Very well," growled his captor; "but it's lucky for him, Master Aleck, as you spoke. Warmint!" he growled to the boy, lowering him to the rugged stones. "Get home with yer. I'm going on by and by to your father, my lad. Be off." The boy yelled as he started and ran off, limping, and with good cause, for the boots the fisherman wore were very loose, and hung down gaping to his ankles, as if to show how beautifully they were silver-spangled with fish scales, but the soles were very thick and terribly hard, especially about the toe. _ |
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