The Ocean Cat's Paw Part 71

"That warn't laughing, sir; that was smiling. When I laugh hearty you can hear me a long way off."

"Well, what were you smiling at?"

"I was thinking, sir, about how it would be if our old man had that lot under him. My word, how he'd wake them up! Poor, simple, sleepy beggars! It would set them thinking that they hadn't took a skipper aboard, but a human hurricane. I wonder who owns that there craft, and whether he gets anything out of the oil trade. _Viva_, indeed! Yes, our old man would give them something to _viva_ about. Their skipper too--nice way of coming up a river to get a cargo. Well, I suppose they get their tobacco pretty cheap; and that's how the world turns round."

Another day glided by, with steady visible progress in the brig's repairs; and the Count seemed in better spirits, and said a few complimentary words to the skipper.

On board the schooner Captain Chubb appeared to be setting an example to the Spaniards, for those of his crew who were not helping the carpenters at the brig were kept busy holystoning, polis.h.i.+ng, and coiling down ropes into accurate concentric rings, till the _Maid of Salcombe_ was as smart as any yacht.

Meanwhile the Spaniards lined the bulwarks of their vessel, smoked and yawned, and watched the reptile shooting, and then stared in sleepy wonderment at the busy smartening up of the English schooner.

The evening came, and this time the Spanish captain had himself rowed across again, to find that it was the doctor who was leaning over the side with his nephew, and, cigarette in mouth still, the man said slowly--

"He tell you about the birds and the monkeys up the little river?"

"Yes," said the doctor, "and I've been thinking about it."

"Ah, yes," said the Spaniard. "I am going to stop a fortnight yet before it's time to go up with my cargo. I'll make my men row you up to the mouth of that little river; and I could show you something you'd like, but you would have to take your guns--you and him too. But maybe the boy would be afraid."

"That I shouldn't!" cried Rodd hotly.

"Oh! Then you could come," said the Spaniard. "But you'd be in the way if you were afraid. Think about it. Good-night."

The doctor was ready to enter into conversation, and question him; but the boat went off back at once, leaving Uncle Paul mentally troubled, for the idea of an excursion into the depths of the forest wilds was exciting in the extreme.

"He needn't have been in such a hurry, Pickle," said the doctor. "I should have liked to have questioned him a little."

"Yes, uncle. I should like to hear about such things; but it was like his impudence to say that I should be afraid!"

"Yes, my boy; it was rude," replied the doctor thoughtfully, "Ah! It's such a chance as might never occur again. A guide like that isn't always to be picked up."

"No, uncle," replied the boy; "and it must be very wonderful in the depths of the forest, where you can get through, because you would be able to row."

"Yes, my boy; wonderfully interesting," said the doctor eagerly.

"But we couldn't go, uncle."

"Why, Pickle? Why?"

"Because we couldn't go away and leave the brig like that."

"No; of course not, my boy. It would be too bad, wouldn't it? And of course we couldn't go and trust ourselves to a pack of strangers, eh?"

"We shouldn't be afraid, should we, uncle?"

"Well, no, my boy; no. But I don't think it would be prudent. But there, there, we mustn't think of it. We can't do everything we like."

CHAPTER FORTY.

THE DOCTOR'S CHARGE.

It was very tempting, and, like most lovers of natural history, the deeper he plunged into his pursuit, with its wonders upon wonders, the more infatuated Uncle Paul grew. The nephew was quite as bad, though, boy-like, his was more the natural love of novelty than that of science.

Who among you is there who has not revelled in the thought of something new, the eager desire to see something fresh? The country boy to see vast London with all its greatness and littleness, its splendour and its squalor, its many cares and too often false joys--the town boy to plunge into that home of mystery and wonder, the country. And though as a rule the country boy is disappointed, he of the town, when once he has tasted the true joys of the country and seen Nature at her best, is never satiated. But that love of the novel and the fresh is in us all--the desire for that which in Saint Paul's days the men of Athens longed for: something new.

Hence then it was no wonder that Rodd, as he paced the schooner's deck and looked across to either side of the river where the primeval forest commenced, felt the strange longing to go and see, to hunt and find the myriads of fresh things upon which he had never set eyes before--wonders that might be more than wonderful--dangers which would be exciting, possibly without danger; in short, all the boy's natural love of adventure was stirring within him--that intense longing to cast away culture in every shape and to become, if for ever so short a time, something of the natural savage once more; and he was ready to urge on his uncle to go for just one expedition, only there was a sense of duty to hold him back.

And as the time went on, and the brig was rapidly approaching completion, Uncle Paul more than once angrily exclaimed to his nephew--

"Pickle, I wish that abominable Spaniard was on the other side of the world!"

"So do I, uncle," cried the boy. "We were getting on as nicely as could be, with plenty to interest us, and fresh adventures, and then he comes here setting us longing to go off into the wilds."

"Yes, my boy, and if it wasn't for the Count and the sense of duty we feel towards him? we would be off to-morrow morning."

"Well, why not go?" said a voice just behind them.

Rodd and his uncle started round in astonishment, for they were both so intent upon their conversation, as they leaned over the rail talking together, that they had not heard anybody approach, and for a moment they were utterly speechless as they stood staring at the Count, who had just come on board, while Morny was climbing up the side to join him.

"I--I didn't know you were here," said the doctor confusedly.

"Why, you asked me to come on board and dine and spend the evening with you," replied the Count good-humouredly. "Had you forgotten?"

"Well--well," said the doctor, "I--Really, I'm afraid I had. What--what have you been about?" he continued, turning angrily upon Rodd. "It's a strange thing, Rodney, that when you know of some engagement that I have made, and it slips my memory, you never remind me of it."

"Well, uncle--I--"

"Well, uncle--you! I remember now well enough. You were there this morning when I asked the Count and--Ah, Morny, my lad! How are you?

Glad you have come.--But, as I was saying, what were you thinking about?"

"Expedition into the forest, uncle," said the boy frankly.

"Expedition into the forest, sir! Um--ah! Well.--Yes, I'm afraid I was thinking about it too. I am so sorry, Des Saix. But welcome all the same, if you will forgive me."

"Forgive you, yes!" said the Count warmly. "That and a great deal more.

But I am very glad that you have so strangely led up to the subject upon which I wish to talk to you."

"What, my forgetfulness?"

"No, no! That expedition into the forest."

"No, no; don't talk about it. I have thought about it too much, and it worries me."

"Well, I want to put a stop to its worrying you. Morny here has been telling me how anxious you both are to go."

"Morny! Why, what did he know about it? He couldn't tell. Here, you, Rodney, have you been letting your tongue run, sir, exposing all my weaknesses?"