Jethou Part 19

Gaping seems to be very infectious, for on Jethou I have several times noticed that Alec and I, as bed time approached, would sit and gape at each other in a most alarming manner, yet not apparently taking heed of each other's performances, but gradually catching the infection unawares.

On this particular night I gaped so as to be in danger of hitching my upper teeth over the foremast head, in which case I must have swallowed the whole mast, or have signalled to Alec for a.s.sistance.

Making the run across from Cape Griznez to Dover is no place for gaping, let alone sleeping; for vessels are so continually pa.s.sing to and fro that one requires all their wits about them to keep clear of the steamers. These monsters, with their red and green eyes, came looming up so noiselessly in the still night, without the least warning (save these same eyes) of approaching danger, that I almost shuddered as they pa.s.sed just ahead or astern, to think what might happen if either one of us slept for only a few minutes on his post. Just a crash, a scream, and all would be over, and the great steamer would most likely pa.s.s along on her voyage, and no one be the wiser that a couple of lives had been sacrificed to Morpheus.

When morning dawned the dear old chalk cliffs of Dover were looking down upon our little c.o.c.kle-sh.e.l.l, as she rose upon each glittering wave, and looking up at those gigantic white cliffs, we seemed really to be at home. Here was England at last, and I could not resist the temptation of running into the harbour to once more put foot on my native land. We got in about seven, and had a stroll about the hilly old place, then went to a dining-room and had such a breakfast as my slim purse would afford. We then gave "Begum" (who looked after the vessel while we were away) a run ash.o.r.e for half an hour, while we trimmed up and made all snug.

At about half-past nine on the 6th we left the harbour in brilliant suns.h.i.+ne, Ramsgate and Margate looking gay with their flags, yachts, bathing machines, white houses, and throngs of holiday makers. The water round the English coast looks hardly clean enough to bathe in after the limpid crystal we had been used to at Jethou. It struck us as looking peculiarly chalky and turbid, but a few days reconciled us to what we shall in future have to put up with.

We kept close in to the North Foreland, to avoid the dreaded Goodwin Sands, as we did not wish to leave the bones of the "Happy Return," with her valuable cargo, upon them.

From the Foreland we took a straight course across the Thames estuary, for what we thought was Walton Naze, but as we had no compa.s.s, and were quite out of sight of land, we made a slight error, and about dusk found ourselves close in with the sh.o.r.e. Not knowing where we were, as a fog from the land had come bowling along over the calm sea, we entered a pretty little bay, and dropped anchor for the night.

While we were preparing supper and wondering where we had got to, as there was not a house, church, or other landmark in sight, we felt a b.u.mp against our quarter, and immediately after a head appeared above our side, with a "Good evening, mates; I thought as how you might want summat from the town, so I jest put off to ye, seeing ye were strangers like."

"Very good of you indeed, my man. Make fast and come aboard."

Our visitor did not want much inviting, for he rolled in over the side, and squatted down on a locker, as if he had known us all his life. He was a little round-bodied, big-fisted, ruddy man, of about sixty; a thorough water-dog, who, when his tongue was loosened spun yarns and sang us songs till near midnight. He was about the merriest little man I ever met. He had served twenty years in the navy, and was an old wooden frigate man, full to the brim with anecdotes. I thought at the time that it would be worth while for some enterprising editor to send out an expedition to capture him and make him spin yarns to fill up an otherwise uninteresting column of some weekly paper. If I had the s.p.a.ce at my command I would recapitulate some of his stories here, but I have not. If I had, my readers would have to take such frequent pinches of salt that they would have a most tantalizing drought upon them, one which would be most difficult to quench.

We obtained information as to our whereabouts, and found that we were anch.o.r.ed in a little bay in the estuary of the Colne, about a mile from the town of Brightlingsea.

On the 7th the sun rose in great splendour, reminding one of the verse:

"The night is past, and morning, like a queen Deck'd in her glittering jewels, stately treads, With her own beauty flus.h.i.+ng fair the scene, The while o'er all her robe of light she spreads."

At six a.m. we were again under weigh (after a good breakfast), and close in with the land, which we hugged right away to Yarmouth, as it was our nearest course.

Speaking of breakfast reminds me of eating, and eating of diet, and diet of health; and this again of my diet on Jethou. Two years ago I used to laugh at vegetarians and call them "pap-eaters," "milk-and-water men,"

and other pretty names; but while I was in Jethou I had cause to think there was not only _something_ in their theory but _much_.

When the weather was too rough for me to fish, I have often lived for a week or ten days on vegetarian diet, for although I had tinned meat I got tired of it in warm weather, and only ate it occasionally when the days were cold. The pig I killed was more than three-parts thrown away, as I did not properly salt it; so my pork store did not last long.

I used frequently to cut several slices of bread and stroll about the garden and eat my breakfast direct from the bushes, while sometimes I would cook a fish and eat, finis.h.i.+ng up with three or four apples or tomatoes with biscuits. Dinner would perhaps consist of a saucepan of potatoes with a fish of some kind, then a rice pudding, or something equally simple, and some cooked fruit eaten with it. I used invariably to stroll through the garden daily and pluck a little of whatever fruit was ripe. I had no meal which corresponded to a tea, but after work took supper, which usually consisted of a sc.r.a.p of meat or fish, bread and jam, biscuits and fruit. Oatmeal porridge, with fruit and fish, formed my breakfast throughout the winter. It must be remembered that I had a splendid a.s.sortment of fruit, and as I ate it freshly gathered I had the full benefit of its medicinal worth, for I had not a day's real sickness while on the island. Excepting the ten days I was laid by with my fall I did not have a single day's real illness. I had raspberries, currants--black, red, and white--tomatoes, apples, pears, walnuts, mulberries, gooseberries, etc., beside wild blackberries; also several vegetables, such as onions, carrots, lettuces, cauliflowers, peas, beans, potatoes, beet, and others.

When I landed on the island I weighed twelve stone six pounds. When I was weighed at Dover, on my voyage home, I drew the beam at thirteen stone eight pounds; so I was not starved. I was as tough as whit-leather, and as strong as a horse, as we say in Norfolk. With this experience, therefore, I must certainly affirm that a diet of farinaceous food, fruit, vegetables, and fish, will not only give a man good health, but a clear brain, a strong body to perform heavy work, and staying power whenever anything unusual has to be endured or undertaken.

More than this, no man can wish for; and even if he is maintained from his youth up on mutton cutlets, or choice rump steaks, he cannot be _more_ than healthy, strong, and happy.

Englishmen having for centuries been a meat-eating nation, are naturally reluctant to give up a habit that is almost part and parcel of their nature; but probably if less meat were eaten and more fruit consumed, especially in the warm weather, doctors would be less numerous, and the hospitals be crying out less frequently for increased funds to provide a greater number of beds.

But where are we? Oh, yes, of course, they were Dovercourt lighthouses we have just pa.s.sed, which seemed to me like two more mile-stones on my voyage home.

The "Happy Return" behaved handsomely, and our cabin was quite dry all the voyage, thanks, perhaps to an extra washboard strake we ran round the bows before starting.

We hoped on the 7th, by evening, to reach Yarmouth, but were doomed to disappointment, as upon night closing in, we were only off Kessingland, a mile or two south of Lowestoft. As we did not want to enter the Bure before daylight, I decided to run into Lowestoft Harbour for the night, which we did, and had a good night's rest. If I had not been so eager to get home I should have pa.s.sed under the bridge into Lake Lothing, and so through Oulton Broad into the Waveney on my way, but now I was as eager as a schoolboy, and could not bear the loss of even an hour.

On the 8th we slipped out of harbour at dawn, which was about five o'clock, and by seven a.m. crossed Yarmouth Bar, at which my heart thumped so much that I looked round to see if Alec noticed it; probably _if_ he heard it he took it for the b.u.mp of the paddles on the water, as a tug pa.s.sed us towing a couple of fis.h.i.+ng boats into the offing.

At breakfast time, eight o'clock, we moored in the mouth of the Bure, just alongside the quay by the ancient North Gate, which has looked down upon the muddy old river for the past five centuries, its head held high in the air, as if wis.h.i.+ng to avoid the a.s.sortment of smells which accompany the floating garbage sailing slowly towards the sea.

How impatient I was for the tide to run up and bear me home to Barton, about twenty miles from our present moorings, and at last it did turn.

To give it time to gain strength we waited a full hour, then, spreading our joyous sails, away we sped. I might say we _tried_ to rival the express rate, but our actual progress was very parliamentary. We drew only three feet of water, but with a slack tide under us we touched ground several times between North Gate and the One-mile-house, so had to be very careful. From thence onward we had deep water and progressed faster.

It was nearly two o'clock as we lowered sail to pa.s.s Acle Bridge, and only about half our journey completed. Stepping the masts, hoisting sail, and having a gla.s.s of good Norfolk ale at the little inn alongside the bridge occupied half an hour, but now the river was deeper and the wind fresher, we went bowling along capitally, till taking the turn before reaching St. Benet's Abbey, where we lost the favour of the wind.

The flat miles of marsh land looked strange to me after hilly, toilsome Jethou. But now I was nearing home, and knew every tree and fence, every break in the river wall, and every house we pa.s.sed, and loved them all; greeting them as familiar friends as we glided silently by them.

St. Benet's Abbey pa.s.sed we turn into the river Ant, and again travel along with a fair wind till bothering old Ludham Bridge bars our progress; so we have again to "down masts" to pa.s.s under the single gothic arch, which has been the _ultima Thule_ to many a large wherry.

Up sail once more, and on we glide up the tortuous narrow stream, till pa.s.sing quiet, quaint, little Irstead Church, with its two or three attendant cottages, we at last enter Barton Broad.[7] Now my excitement gives way to another feeling, that of suspense and fear as to how I shall find the old folks at home. Are they well? Who can tell what may have taken place during the past six months since my father wrote me, "_All's well._" I feel a sudden chill as I think of _her_ from whom I have been absent for over eighteen months, and reproach myself for not having communicated to her in some way or other. Is _she_ well, and is she still _mine_? Then my dear old mother, what of her? With these thoughts crowding through my brain I feel as if I could leap out of the boat and swim the remaining half mile, so slowly does she go through the shallow water.

S-s-s-ssh, b.u.mp! and we come to a sudden stop, for my reverie has caused me to neglect my helm, and there we are, fast on a submerged muddy reed bed.

All this inland navigation is new to Alec, and he has been delighted to see how I have handled the craft so far, but I think this _contretemps_ rather shakes his faith in my knowledge, till I explain to him the cause of my neglect.

A few hearty pushes astern and we are off again, and as the sun begins to cast its long red rays across the tranquil Broad, with its reedy margin and water-lily nooks, the "Happy Return" glides alongside our little lawn. Joy! I am home again! The wanderer has returned, and the erstwhile Crusoe has once more, like Rob Roy Macgregor, "his foot upon his native heath."

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FOOTNOTE:

7: See Appendix, page 277, "Norfolk Broads and Rivers."

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CHAPTER XX.

I SURPRISE THE OLD FOLKS AT HOME--ALL WELL--IS PRISCILLA FALSE--WE MEET--THE MISSING LETTERS--A SNAKE IN THE GRa.s.s--DREAMS OF VENGEANCE.

As I stepped upon the lawn no one was in sight, so treading lightly I walked up to the house, and looked quietly in at the window, peeping cautiously so as not to be seen. To my intense relief the picture I saw within quite a.s.sured me that all was well. There sat my jolly old dad and my dear mother, cosily taking their tea, quite unsuspecting who would shortly join them in a cup. They looked very happy; so did a couple of dogs gambolling on the hearthrug, while our old cat sat on a rush ha.s.sock close by, looking dreamily at them through her half-closed eyes, when they threatened to knock her off her perch in their play.

I quietly glided in at the side door, and gently opening the parlour door stood in the room before my parents. They both looked round as I made a slight sound; in a moment the quietude was broken. My mother half choked herself with the tea she was drinking, letting fall both cup and saucer on the dogs in her amazement, who scampered away, yelping at their sudden hot bath.

"Mercy me! my boy!" and she fell sobbing in my arms, or rather on my left arm, for my father had taken possession of my right hand with,

"Hang it all, Harry, do you mean to kill us all with fright? Why, my dear boy, I don't know what to say, I feel so glad to see you. However did you get home?" etc., etc.

It was some minutes before their nerves were restored, and I had time to get a few words in edgeways between their greetings. They wanted me to answer a hundred questions, without even pausing to give me a chance to speak; but presently having satisfied them as to the chief points, I thought it high time to fetch in my companion, whom I introduced as "Mr.

'Monday' Ducas, Skipper of the 'Happy Return.'" They quickly made him welcome, taking him to be the Captain of the vessel I had come over in, but remarked aside, that both he and I would look better for a wash and a shave, while possibly a few inches off our hair would make us a little more in accord with the usual mode of dressing hair in these parts.

Truly on peeping at ourselves in the gla.s.s we did look a couple of wild men or North American trappers.

A tea was then prepared for us to which we did ample justice, but everything seemed so strange. We had not been used to chairs, carpets, window blinds, mutton chops, or even b.u.t.ter, but they soon came back to us as old friends, who had long been absent but not forgotten.

We had a couple of bedrooms a.s.signed to us, also a spare room, into which, on the morrow, I meant to convey our whole cargo; but at present I had neither mentioned our craft or its contents. These things I reserved as a surprise for my dad in the morning.

After we had tidied ourselves I ventured to ask about Priscilla, upon which my father beckoned me to another room, which greatly upset me.

Surely nothing was wrong with her; was she ill?