Chapter 2. How Billy Widgeon Brought A Letter

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_ CHAPTER TWO. HOW BILLY WIDGEON BROUGHT A LETTER

The man who was working so hard at the mat was a sailor of apparently about five-and-thirty, carefully dressed in his shore-going suit of navy blue, and carrying a very tightly-done-up dandified umbrella, which looked as out of place in his hands as a parasol would daintily poised by a grenadier guard.

He was a strong squarely-built fellow, with crisp black hair and close beard, and if he had gone under a standard the height he would have reached would probably have been five feet, the result of this being that he had to look up at Mark Strong, who was about five feet six, and at the maid, who was only a couple of inches less.

"Want to see my father?" said Mark, as the man continued to stare and wipe his shoes.

"Ware sharks! Heave off, you ugly lubber! I say: will he bite?"

This was consequent upon a pattering of toe-nails upon the oil-cloth and the appearance of Bruff, the dog, who began to walk round the visitor and smell him.

"No, he won't bite friends," said Mark.

"Tip us your fin, then, messm't," said the sailor, holding out his hand.

"Give him your paw, Bruff," cried Mark; but the dog paid no heed, only continued to smell the visitor.

"Wheer's the skipper?" said the sailor then, hoarsely. "You his boy?"

"Yes," said Mark, gazing enviously at a man who was probably one of those about to sail with Captain Strong on his voyage to Singapore and China. "I say, don't wear out the door-mat."

"Eh? No, m'lad, I won't wear out the mat. You see we don't have no mats afloat. I say! my!"

The man bent down, as if seized with a cramping internal pain, and gave his right leg a slap with his horny paw, whose back was as hairy as that of a monkey.

"What's the matter?" said Mark.

"Matter! I was only larfin. My! you are like the skipper! Wheer is he?"

"This way," said Mark, leading him to the comfortable room, where, as soon as he entered and saw Mrs Strong, the man began ducking his head and kicking out one leg.

Mrs Strong nodded and smiled at the man, feeling a kindly leaning toward one of those who would be under her husband's orders for the next six months, and perhaps his guardians in some storm.

"I'll leave you now, dear," she said.

"Oh, you need not go!" said the captain; but Mrs Strong left the room.

"Shall I go, father?" asked Mark.

"No, my boy, no. Sit down. Well, Billy, what news?"

"None at all, sir, only we shall soon be full up; they've bent on a new mains'l and fores'l; we've been a-painting of her streak to-day, and she do look lovely, and no mistake. But here's a letter I was to give you, sir."

The man evidently had a letter somewhere, from the confident way in which he began to search for it, looking in his cap, then feeling about in his loose blue jumper, and ending with his trousers' pockets.

"Well," said Captain Strong sharply, "where's the letter?"

"Ah! wheer is it?" muttered the man, stroking himself down the sleeves, the chest, and the back. "I had that theer letter somewheres, but it seems to be gone."

"Did you leave it aboard?"

"No, sir, I didn't leave it aboard; I'm sure of that. It's somewheres about me."

"Hang it, man! have you felt in all your pockets?"

"Ain't got but two, sir, and I feeled in both o' them. Think o' that, now, arter Mr Gregory saying as I was to be werry careful o' that letter!"

"So careful that you've lost it," cried Captain Strong. "Bill Widgeon, you're about the biggest blockhead in the crew."

"Well, I dunno about that, sir; I may be a blockhead, but I arn't lost the letter."

"Where is it, then?" cried the captain angrily.

"That's just what I want to know, sir."

"Bah! it's lost."

"No, sir, it arn't lost; I were too careful for that, and--theer, I telled you so. I remember now. Mr Gregory says, says he, 'you, Billy Widgeon,' he says, 'you've got to take great care of that letter,' he says; and 'all right, sir,' I says, 'I just will,' and I put it wheer I thought it would be safest, and here it is."

As he spoke, grinning broadly the while, he slipped off one of his shoes, stooped and picked it up, and drew out the letter all warm and crinkled up with the pressure.

"It's all right, sir," he said, smoothing and patting the letter, and handing it to his captain, before balancing himself on one leg to replace his shoe.

"Why didn't you carry it in your pocket, man?" said the captain angrily, and he tore open the letter and began to read.

"I say, youngster," whispered the sailor, whom the dog was still slowly going round and smelling suspiciously, "will that there chap bite?"

"Bite! No," replied Mark. "Here, lie down, Bruff!"

The dog obeyed, laying his head upon his forepaws and blinking at the visitor, whom he watched intently as if he were in doubt about his character.

"Looks a nipper, he do, squire," said the sailor. "He could take hold pretty tight, eh?"

"Take hold and keep hold," said Mark, who could not help a feeling of envy creeping into his breast--envy of the easy-looking, active little man who was to be his father's companion over the seas to wonderland.

"He looks as if he would," said the sailor after a few moments' pause. "I say, youngster, I'd rayther be ins with him than outs."

"What! rather be friends than enemies?"

"That's it, youngster. I say, what are you going to be--first-mate, and skipper arter?"

"No," said Mark, speaking in the same low tone as his questioner; "I'm not going to be a sailor."

"Lor!"

"It is not decided what I'm to be yet."

"Arn't it now? Why, if you'd come to sea along o' us what a lot I could ha' taught you surety. Why, I could ha' most made a man of you."

"Here, Widgeon," said the captain sharply, "take that back to Mr Gregory, and tell him I shall be aboard to-morrow."

"Right, sir," said the sailor, giving his head a duck and his right leg another kick out--courtesies called forth by the well-furnished room and the soft carpet, for on the bare deck of the ship he put off his manners with his shore-going clothes. "Day, sir. Day, youngster. Day, shipmet."

This last was intended for the dog; but, a few moments before, Bruff had slowly risen, crossed the room, and drawn the door open by inserting one paw in the crack, and then passed through.

"Why, he arn't there!" said Billy Widgeon after a glance round. "My sarvice to him all the same," he added, and went out.

The door had hardly closed when there was the sound of a rush, a roar, the fall of a chair, a crash of china, and a stentorian "Ahoy!"

"I shall have to kill that dog," cried the captain, as he and Mark rushed into the hall, where Bruff was barking and growling savagely.

"Down, Bruff!" shouted Mark, seizing the dog by the collar and enforcing his order by pressing his head down upon the oil-cloth, and setting one knee upon his side. "Why, where's--"

Mark did not finish, but burst into a roar of laughter, in which his father joined, as they both gazed up at the little sailor.

Explanation of the state of affairs was not needed, for matters spoke for themselves.

It was evident that Bruff had, for some reason, made a rush at Billy Widgeon, who had leaped upon a hall chair, from thence upon the table, upsetting the chair in his spring. From the table he had leaped to the top of a great cabinet, knocking down a handsome Indian jar, which was shattered to fragments on the oil-cloth; and from the cabinet springing to the balusters of the first-floor landing of the staircase.

There he hung, swinging by first one hand, then by the other, so as to get a good look down at his assailant, who was barking at him furiously as Mark rushed out; but Bruff had not the brains to see that if he rushed up stairs he could renew his attack.

"Got him safe?" said Billy Widgeon, as he swung by one hand as easily as would a monkey, and unconsciously imitating one of these active little creatures in the pose of his head.

"Yes; he sha'n't hurt you now," cried Mark.

"'Cause dogs' bites don't come in one's pay, eh, cap'n?"

"The dog's all right now, Widgeon," said the captain. "Here, Mark, shut him in the parlour."

"All right, father! but he won't stir now."

"Come down, my lad," said the captain. "You can climb over the balustrade."

"Bee-low!" cried the sailor in a gruff, sing-song tone, and loosening his hold he dropped lightly on to the oil-cloth within a couple of yards of the dog.

Bruff's head was pressed close down to the floor, but he showed his teeth and uttered a growl like a lilliputian peal of thunder.

"Quiet!" cried Mark, as Billy Widgeon struck an attitude with his fists doubled, ready for attack or defence.

"Lor', if you was aboard our ship, wouldn't I heave you overboard fust chance!" cried the sailor.

"What did you do to the dog?" said the captain angrily.

"I never did nothing at all, sir. I only wanted my umbrella as I stood up in the corner. Soon as I went to take it he come at me, and if I hadn't done Jacko and nipped up there he'd have had a piece out of my leg."

As he spoke he went to take the umbrella from the corner, when, looking upon the movement as an attempt to carry out a robbery, Bruff uttered another savage growl aid struggled to get free.

"All, would yer!" cried Billy Widgeon, snatching up his umbrella and holding it by the toe in cudgel-fashion. "Now, then, youngster, lot him go. Come on, you ugly big-headed lubber. I'm ready for you now."

As he spoke Billy Widgeon did Jacko, as he termed it, again, hopping about, flourishing his weapon, and giving it a bang down upon the floor after the fashion of a wild Irishman with his shillelagh.

It was a risky proceeding, for it infuriated the dog, who began to struggle fiercely, while Mark laughed so heartily that he could hardly retain his hold.

"That will do, Widgeon," said the captain, wiping his eyes. "Here, Mark, make that dog friends with him."

"Here, give me the umbrella," said the lad.

"Nay, if I do you'll let him go at me," said the sailor doubtingly.

"Nonsense, man! Give him the umbrella," cried the captain.

The sailor obeyed; and as Mark took it he held it down before the dog, and then returned it to its owner.

Bruff did not say "All right!" but he gave three pats on the oil-cloth with his long bushy tail, a sign that he accepted the position, and then he was allowed to get up.

"Who's afeard!" cried Billy Widgeon, looking from one to the other. "I say, I was too many for him, sir."

"Yes," said the captain; "and what about my Indian jar?"

"Ah! that was the dog's fault, cap'n," said the man earnestly.

"Dog's fault!" said Captain Strong. "You knocked it down and broke it, and I shall stop the cost out of your pay."

Billy Widgeon stood for a moment looking solemn. Then, as if he had suddenly been engaged as a dentist's specimen, he bared all his fine white teeth in the broadest of broad grins.

"Nay, skipper," he said, "you wouldn't do that. Me and my shipmets wouldn't want to make another v'yge with you if you was that sort o' capt'n. I'll buy you another one when we gets to Chany. Here's off!"

He nodded to all in turn, went out of the door, rattled his umbrella on the iron railings in front, making Bruff utter a low discontented growl, and then, as the door was closed, the growl became a deeply-drawn breath like a sigh, while putting his nose to the crack at the bottom, he stood with his ears twitching, giving forth a faint whine now and then, apparently not quite satisfied as to whether he had done his duty, and uneasy in his mind about that umbrella. "You will have to be careful with that dog, Mark," said the captain. "He must be tamed down, or we shall have worse mischief than a broken jar."

"He thought the man was stealing the umbrella," pleaded Mark on behalf of his favourite.

"Then he must be taught to think sensibly, my lad. Billy Widgeon's one of my best fore-mast men, and I can't afford to have my sailors used to feed your dog."

"You're joking, father."

"Ah! but that would be no joke," said the captain. "I should not approve of his devouring the lowest and most worthless class of tramp, or a savage; but when it comes to sailors--"

"What nonsense, father!" cried Mark.

"Why, Mark, my boy, what a good idea! I think I'll borrow that dog and take him to sea."

"Take him to sea, father?"

"Yes: he would be a treasure at clearing the deck of unwelcome visitors--Chinamen or Malays."

"What, pirates?"

"Well, men who would be pirates if they dared: the low-class scoundrels who haunt some of the ports."

"All right, father! you shall have him," said Mark.

"Then I will, my boy," said the captain, looking at his son curiously, for he could not understand his willingness to part with his ugly favourite. "He shall be well treated so long as he behaves himself."

"But you can't take the dog without his master," said Mark, smiling.

"Oh, that's it! is it?" said the captain. "I thought there was something behind. Well, that was news for you," he continued.

"News?"

"Yes, that Billy Widgeon brought. I was afraid that we should be crowded in the cabin and I was beginning to regret my promise to take you; but Mr Gregory writes me word that a gentleman and his wife and daughter who were coming with us as far as Singapore have backed out, to go by one of the fast mail-boats, so we shall have plenty of room."

"That's capital!" cried Mark. "Mr Gregory is the second-mate, isn't he?"

"First-mate now, my boy. He was second-mate, but my first-mate is now in command of another vessel, and I was afraid he would take all my old crew."

"But he does not, father, because that sailor said--"

"Yes; the crew stay with me to a man." _

Read next: Chapter 3. How First-Mate Gregory Did Not Like Dogs

Read previous: Chapter 1. How Mark Strong Wanted To Go

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