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Jack at Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 3. In Doleful Dump |
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_ CHAPTER THREE. IN DOLEFUL DUMP "Beg pardon, sir." Jack raised his head wearily from where it was resting upon his hand by the fireside, and looked dreamingly at the footman who had entered the warm library next morning. "Head ache, sir?" said the man respectfully; and the well-built, fair, freckled-faced, but good-looking fellow gazed commiseratingly at his young master. "My head ache, Edward? Yes, sadly, sadly." "Begging your pardon, sir; it's because you sit over the fire too much." "What!" cried Jack angrily; "have you got that silly idea in your head too? How dare you!" "Beg pardon, sir. Very sorry, sir. Don't be angry with me, sir. You see I don't know any better." "Then it's time you did." "So it is, Master Jack, so it is; and I want to know better, if you'll help me." "How can I help you?" said Jack, staring at the man. "Well, you see, sir, it's like this: I don't get no chance to improve my mind. Up at six o'clock--No," cried the man emphatically, "I will speak the honest truth if I die for it! It ain't much before seven when I begin work, sir, for you see I have such a stiff beard, and it does grow so, I'm obliged to shave reg'lar. Well, say quarter to seven I begin, and it's boots and shoes. When they're done it's hard work to get my knives done before breakfast. Then there's the breakfast cloth to lay, and the toast to make, and after breakfast master's and your dress-clothes to brush; and them done, my plate to clean. That brings me up to laying the cloth for lunch, and--" "Look here, Edward," cried Jack impatiently, "do you suppose I want to learn all you do in a day?" "No, sir, of course not. I only wanted you to understand why it is I've no time to improve my mind." "So much the better for you, Ned," cried Jack. "I've improved mine, and Sir John and the doctor say that I've been doing wrong." "Do they, sir, really? Well, they ought to know; but all the same I feel as if I want to improve mine." "Let it alone, Ned," said the boy drearily. "No, sir, I can't do that, when there's such a chance in one's way." "Chance! What for?" said Jack, whose interest was awakened by the man's earnestness. "That's what I'm telling you, sir, a chance to improve myself." "How?" "Well, you see, sir, I've got ears on my head." "Of course you have." "And can't help hearing, sir, a little of what's said." "Look here, Ned," cried Jack, "I'm unwell; my head aches, and I'm very much worried. Tell me what it is that you want as briefly as you can." "Well, sir, begging your pardon, sir, I couldn't help hearing that Sir John and you and the doctor's going abroad." "Yes, Ned," said Jack moodily; "we're going abroad." "Well, sir, I'd thank you kindly if you'd speak a word to master for me." "What, about a character? There is no need, Ned; you will stay here till we come back--if ever we do," he added bitterly. "Oh, you'll come back right enough, sir. But don't you see that's just what I don't want, unless I can come back too." "What do you mean, Ned? Can't you see that you are worrying me dreadfully?" "I am sorry, sir, for if there's a thing I can't abear, it's being talked to when I've got one o' them stinging 'eadaches. But I keep on explaining to you, sir. Don't you see? I want you to speak a word to Sir John about taking me with you." "You!" cried Jack. "You want to go with us round the world?" "Now, Master Jack," cried the man reproachfully, "would you like to spend all your days cleaning knives and boots and shoes, when it wasn't plate and waiting at table?" "No, of course not; but you must be mad to want to do such a thing as go upon this dreadful journey." "Dreadful journey! My word of honour, Master Jack, you talking like that!" cried the man. "You talking like that!" he repeated. "A young gent like you! Well, I'm about stunned. Do you know it would be about the greatest treat a body could have?" "No, I don't," said Jack shortly. "It means nothing but misery and discomfort. A rough life amongst rough people; no chance to read and study. Oh, it would be dreadful." "Well!" exclaimed the man; and again, "Well! You do cap me, sir, that you do. Can't you see it means change?" "I don't want change," cried Jack petulantly. "Oh, don't you say that, sir," cried Edward reproachfully; "because, begging your pardon, it ain't true." "What! Are you going to begin on that silly notion too? I tell you I am not ill." "No, sir, you're not ill certainly, because you don't have to take to your bed, and swaller physic, and be fed with a spoon, but every bit of you keeps on shouting that you ain't well." "How? Why? Come now," cried the boy with more animation, as he snatched at the opportunity for gaining an independent opinion of his state. "But stop: has my father or Doctor Instow been saying anything to you?" "To me, sir? Not likely." "Then tell me what you mean." "Well, sir; you're just like my magpie." "What!" cried Jack angrily. "I don't mean no harm, sir; you asked me." "Well, there, go on," cried Jack pettishly. "I only meant you were like him in some ways. You know, sir, I give one of the boys threppuns for him two years ago, when there was the nest at the top of the big ellum." "Oh yes, I've seen the bird." "I wasn't sure, sir, for you never did take much notice of that sort of thing. Why, some young gents is never happy unless they're keeping all kinds of pets--pigeons and rabbits and hedgehogs and such." "I wish you wouldn't talk quite so much," cried Jack sharply. "There, sir, that's what it is. You want stirring up. I like that. You haven't spoke to me so sharp since I don't know when." "What, do you like me to scold you?" "I'd like you to bully me, and chuck things at me too, sooner than see you sit moping all day as you do, sir. That's what made me say you put me in mind of my magpie. He sits on his perch all day long with his feathers, set up, and his tail all broken and dirty, and not a bit o' spirit in him. He takes the raw meat I cut up for him, but he doesn't eat half of it, only goes and pokes the bits into holes and corners, and looks as miserable and moulty as can be. It's because he's always shut up in a cage, doing just the same things every day, hopping from perch to perch that often--and back again over and over again, till he hasn't got a bit of spirit in him. I'm just the same--it's boots and knives and plate and coal-scuttles and answer the bells, till I get tired of a night and lie abed asking myself whether a strong chap like me was meant to go on all his life cleaning boots and knives; and if I was, what's the good of it all? I'm sick of it, Master Jack, and there's been times when I've been ready to go and 'list for a soldier, only I don't believe that would be much better. The toggery's right enough, and you have a sword or a gun, but it's mostly standing in a row and being shouted at by sergeants. But now there's a chance of going about and seeing what the world's like, and its works, and how it goes round, and you say you don't want to go. Why, it caps me, it do, sir, really." "Yes," cried Jack angrily; "and it 'caps me,' as you call it, to hear a good servant like you talk about giving up a comfortable place and want to go on a long and dangerous voyage. Are you not well fed and clothed and paid, and have you not a good bed?" "Yes, sir; yes sir; yes, sir," cried Edward; "but a man don't want to be always comfortable, and well fed, and to sleep on a feather bed. He's a poor sort of a chap who does. I don't think much of him. It's like being a blind horse in a clay mill, going round and round and round all his life. Why, he never gets so much change as to be able to go the other way round, because if he did the mill wouldn't grind." "Pooh!" cried Jack sharply. "It is not true: you can have plenty of change. Clean knives first one day, and boots first the next, and then begin with the plate." "Ha--ha! haw--haw! he--he!" cried the man, boisterously, laughing, and in his enjoyment lifting up one leg and putting it down with a stamp over and over again. "Don't stand there laughing like an idiot!" cried Jack angrily. "How dare you!" "Can't help it, sir, really, sir; can't help it. You made me. But go on, sir. Do. Chuck some books at me for being so impudent." "I will," cried Jack fiercely, "if you don't leave the room." "That's right, sir; do, sir; it's stirred you up. Why, you have got the stuff in you, Master Jack. I do believe you could fight after all if you was put to it. You, sir, actually, sir, making a joke about the knives and boots. Well, I wouldn't have believed it of you." "Leave the room, sir!" "Yes, sir, directly, sir; but do please ask the governor to take me, sir." "Leave the room, sir!" cried Jack, starting to his feet. "Certainly, sir, but if you would--" _Whish_!--_Bang_!--_Jingle_! In a fit of petulant anger Jack had followed the man's suggestion, caught up a heavy Greek lexicon, and thrown it with all his might, or rather with all his weakness, at the servant's head. Edward ducked down, and the book went through the glass of one of the cases; and at the same moment Sir John Meadows entered the library. _ |
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