The Lively Poll Part 9

"Looks like it, mate. Ay, an' that's Stephen Lockley of the _Lively Poll_ close astarn of 'im--an' ain't they kickin' up a rumpus now!"

Fox was right, for when the two little boats referred to ranged alongside of the vessel, and the men scrambled up the side on to her deck, there was an amount of greeting, and hand-shaking, and exclaiming in joyful surprise, which threw all previous exhibitions in that way quite into the shade, and culminated in a mighty cheer, the power of which soft people with sh.o.r.e-going throats and lungs and imaginations cannot hope to emulate or comprehend!

The cheer was mildly repeated with mingled laughter when the crowd on deck turned to observe the arrival of the _Cormorant's_ boat.

"Why, it's the skipper o' the _Ironclad_!" exclaimed a voice. "No, it's not. It's the skipper o' the _Cormorant_," cried another.

"What cheer? what cheer, Groggy Fox?" cried a third, as the boat swooped alongside, and several strong arms were extended. "Who'd have looked for _you_ here? There ain't no schnapps."

"All right, mates," replied Fox, with an apologetic smile, as he alighted on the deck and looked round; "I've come for _baccy_."

A short laugh greeted this reply, but it was instantly checked, for at the moment Fred Martin stepped forward, grasped the skipper's h.o.r.n.y hand, and shook it warmly, as well as powerfully, for Fred was a muscular man, and had fully recovered his strength.

"You've come to the right shop for baccy," he said; "I've got plenty o'

that, besides many other things much better. I bid you heartily welcome on board of the _Sunbeam_ in the name of the Lord!"

For a few seconds the skipper of the _Cormorant_ could not utter a word.

He gazed at Fred Martin with his mouth partially, and his eyes wide, open. The thought that he was thus cordially received by the very man whose character he had so lately and so ungenerously traduced had something, perhaps, to do with his silence.

"A-are--are _you_ the skipper o' this here wessel!" he stammered.

"Ay, through G.o.d's goodness I am."

"A _mission_ wessel!" said Fox, his amazement not a whit abated as he looked round.

"Just so, a Gospel s.h.i.+p," answered Fred, giving the skipper another shake of the hand.

"You didn't mistake it for a _coper_, did 'ee?" asked David Duffy, who was one of the visitors.

The laugh which followed this question drowned Groggy Fox's reply.

"And you'll be glad to hear," said Fred, still addressing Fox, "that the _Sunbeam_ is a new mission s.h.i.+p, and has been appointed to do service for G.o.d in _this_ fleet and no other; so you'll always be able to have books and baccy, mitts, helmets, comforters, medicines, and, best of all, Bibles and advice for body and soul, free gratis when you want 'em."

"But where's the doctor to give out the medicines," asked Fox, who began to moderate his gaze as he recovered self-possession.

"Well, mate," answered Fred, with a bashful air, "I am doctor as well as skipper. Indeed, I'm parson too--a sort of Jack-of-all-trades! I'm not full fledged of course, but on the principle, I fancy, that `half a loaf is better than no bread,' I've been sent here after goin' through a short course o' trainin' in surgery--also in divinity; something like city missionaries and Scripture-readers; not that trainin', much or little, would fit any man for the great work unless he had the love of the Master in his heart. But I trust I have that."

"You have, Fred, thank G.o.d!" said the Admiral of the fleet.

"And now, Skipper Fox," continued Fred facetiously, "as I'm a sort of doctor, you must allow me to prescribe something for your complaint.

Here, boy," he added, hailing one of his crew, "fetch Skipper Fox a draught o' that physic--the brown stuff that you keep in the kettle."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered a youthful voice, and in another minute Pat Stiver forced his way through the crowd, bearing in his hand a large cup or bowl of coffee.

"It's not exactly the tipple I'm used to," said Fox, accepting the cup with a grin, and wisely resolving to make the best of circ.u.mstances, all the more readily that he observed other visitors had been, or still were, enjoying the same beverage. "Howsever, it's not to be expected that sick men shall have their physic exactly to their likin', so I thank 'ee all the same, Dr Martin!"

This reply was received with much approval, and the character of Groggy Fox immediately experienced a considerable rise in the estimation of his comrades of the fleet.

Attention was drawn from him just then by the approach of another boat.

"There is some genuine surgeon's work coming to you in that boat, Fred, if I mistake not," remarked Stephen Lockley, as he stood beside his old friend.

"Hasn't that man in the stern got his head tied up?"

"Looks like it."

"By the way, what of your uncle, d.i.c.k Martin?" asked the Admiral. "It was you that picked him up, wasn't it?"

This reference to the sad event which had occurred that morning solemnised the fishermen a.s.sembled on the _Sunbeam's_ deck, and they stood listening with sympathetic expressions as Fred narrated what he had seen of the catastrophe, and told that his uncle was evidently nothing the worse of it, and was lying asleep in the cabin, where everything had been done for his recovery and comfort.

In the boat which soon came alongside was a fisherman who had met with a bad accident some days before. A block tackle from aloft had fallen on his head and cut it severely. His mates had bound it up in rough-and-ready fas.h.i.+on; but the wound had bled freely, and the clotted blood still hung about his hair. Latterly the wound had festered, and gave him agonising pain. His comrades being utterly ignorant as to the proper treatment, could do nothing for him. Indeed, the only effectual thing that could be done was to send the poor man home. This sudden and unexpected appearance of one of the mission s.h.i.+ps was therefore hailed as a G.o.dsend, for it was well-known that these vessels contained medicines, and it was believed that their skippers were more or less instructed in the healing art. In this belief they were right; for in addition to the well-appointed medicine-chest, each vessel has a skipper who undergoes a certain amount of instruction, and possesses a practical and plain book of directions specially prepared under the supervision of the Board of Trade for the use of captains at sea.

One can imagine, therefore, what a relief it was to this poor wounded man to be taken down into the cabin and have his head at last attended to by one who "knew what he was about." The operation of dressing was watched with the deepest interest and curiosity by the fishermen a.s.sembled there, for it was their first experience of the value, even in temporal matters, of a Gospel s.h.i.+p. Their ears were open, too, as well as their eyes, and they listened with much interest to Fred Martin as he tried, after a silent prayer for the Holy Spirit's influence, to turn his first operation to spiritual account in his Master's interest.

"Tell me if I hurt you," he said, observing that his patient winced a little when he was removing the bandage.

"Go on," said the man quietly. "I ain't a babby to mind a touch of pain."

The cabin being too small to hold them all, some of the visitors cl.u.s.tered round the open skylight, and gazed eagerly down, while a few who could not find a point of vantage contented themselves with listening. Even d.i.c.k Martin was an observer at that operation, for, having been roused by the bustle around him, he raised himself on an elbow, and looking down from his berth, could both hear and see.

"There now," said Fred Martin, when at last the bandage was removed and the festering ma.s.s laid bare. "Hand the scissors, Pat."

Pat Stiver, who was a.s.sistant-surgeon on that occasion, promptly handed his chief the desired instrument, and stood by for further orders.

"I'll soon relieve you," continued Fred, removing the clotted hair, etcetera, in a few seconds, and applying a cleansing lotion. "I cut it off, you see, just as the Great Physician cuts away our sins, and washes us clean in the fountain of His own blood. You feel better already, don't you?"

"There's no doubt about that," replied the patient looking up with a great sigh of relief that told far more than words could convey.

We will not record all that was said and done upon that occasion. Let it suffice to say that the man's wound was put in a fair way of recovery without the expense and prolonged suffering of a trip home.

Thereafter, as a breeze was beginning to blow which bid fair to become a "fis.h.i.+ng breeze," it became necessary for the visitors to leave in haste, but not before a few books, tracts, and worsted mittens had been distributed, with an earnest invitation from the skipper of the _Sunbeam_ to every one to repeat the visit whenever calm weather should permit, and especially on Sundays, when regular services would be held on deck or in the hold.

On this occasion Bob Lumpy and Pat Stiver had met and joined hands in great delight, not unmingled with surprise.

"Well, who'd ever have expected to find _you_ here?" said Bob.

"Ah, who indeed?" echoed Pat. "The fact is, I came to be near _you_, Bob."

"But how did it happen? Who got you the sitivation? Look alive! Don't be long-winded, I see they're gittin' our boat ready."

"This is 'ow it was, Bob. I was shovin' Eve about the roads in the bath-chair, as you know I've bin doin' ever since I entered your service, w'en a gen'lem'n come up and axed all about us. `Would ye like a sitivation among the North Sea fishermen?' says he. `The very ticket,' says I. `Come to Lun'on to-night, then,' says he.

`Unpossible,' says I, fit to bu'st wi' disappointment; `'cos I must first shove Miss Eve home, an' git hold of a noo shover to take my place.' `All right,' says he, laughin'; `come when you can. Here's my address.' So away I goes; got a trustworthy, promisin' young feller as I've know'd a long time to engage for Miss Eve, an' off to Lun'on, an'-- here I am!"

"Time's up," cried the Admiral at this point, shaking hands with Fred Martin; while Bob Lumsden sprang from the side of his little friend, and there was a general move towards the boats.

"Good-bye, mate," said Skipper Fox, holding out his hand.

"Stop, friends," cried Fred, in a loud voice; "that's not the way we part on board o' the _Sunbeam_."