LightNovesOnl.com

Young Tom Bowling Part 14

Young Tom Bowling - LightNovelsOnl.com

You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.

This was done, the heavy stream anchor, which was always kept ready on the forecastle in case of any such emergency, being eased down by means of its shank painter and the fish tackle until it rested comfortably across the sternsheets of the boat; while another stout hawser accompanying it, was coiled round the whole interior of the boat on top of the thwarts.

The cutter then pulled off to about the same distance at which the kedge had been dropped, though more on the quarter of the brig than dead aft; and, the end of the second hawser being brought aboard like the first, all hands set to work with a cheery song, as we had no drum and fife band with us in the brig--for, though not strictly according to naval discipline, the commander permitted the licence so as to make the fellows move round all the smarter.

"Yo--ho, my lads!" bawled out old Jellybelly, quite in his element, I believe, as he liked to hear his own voice. "Round she comes! Heave and paul with a yo--heave--ho!"

"By jingo, she's moving!" Mr Gadgett quivered out, more excited than I had ever seen the grey-haired gunner before. "Another turn or two, my lads, and she'll be afloat!"

His excitement communicated itself to the commander aft, who was looking over the stern and anxiously watching the water, to see if our rudder, which was kept amids.h.i.+ps, made any ripple on the surface; though, wide awake, our officer was keeping a keen eye, too, on the manilla hawser attached to the stream anchor, which was in such a ticklish state of tension from the strain that it was singing out like a fiddle-string.

"Hurrah!" he cried a moment after. "She _is_ moving, Mr Gadgett.

Stand by there, furrud, to veer off the cable of the port bower!"

Tramp, tramp, went the fellows round the capstan; turn by turn, in came the slack of the warp; and then in another five minutes or so, with a harsh grating sound as her keel slid off a rocky bit of the shoal on which she had rested, the gallant little _Martin_ was afloat again!

Almost at the same instant as the dancing motion of her hull told us that the brig had been restored to her native element, the commander, wis.h.i.+ng to get away as soon as he could from the dangerous neighbourhood of the Brambles, gave an order to the boatswain's mate standing near him, who instantly put his whistle to his lips and blew a shrill call whose import we all well knew.

"Watch, make sail!" then shouted the commander, rubbing his hands with much satisfaction. "Topmen, aloft and loose the topsails! Let go your topsail halliards! Man the head sheets!"

While these directions were being carried out, the port bower was weighed; when the jib being hoisted and the topsails dropped and sheeted home, the brig paid off on the starboard tack, picking up the kedge and stream anchor as soon as we fetched over them in rounding-to.

The cutter, which had remained alongside ready for further use if required, was then hoisted up to the davits; and the _Martin_, spreading her wings again properly, made off towards Cowes just as one of the Government tugs, which had been despatched to our a.s.sistance from the dockyard on the receipt of a telegraphic message from Hurst Castle telling of our mishap, came round the corner of Stokes Bay, puffing away at a fine rate, and throwing up a cloud of black smoke that spoilt the beauty of the landscape, and shut out everything to leeward from view.

"Begorrah!" said Mick, from whom the fine fuss and fright and flurry had banished all traces of his previous illness, making him as right as ninepence again, "they're jist in toime to be too late, sure!"

Our commander exchanged signals with the people on the tug, however, telling them that their services were not required, though thanking them for the help they would have rendered us; and the wind, which had been s.h.i.+fting about to all parts of the compa.s.s while we had been ash.o.r.e on the sand ledge, now veering to the south'ard and west'ard, we bore away before it with squared yards up the Solent towards Spithead, where we anch.o.r.ed for the night, almost in the fairway, abreast of Southsea Castle.

Next morning we came into harbour, when a dockyard diver was sent down to see if the brig had sustained any damage from her pranks of the previous day; but, all being found staunch and sound below, only the copper on her keel having received a little extra polish, we were ordered to go out again into the Channel and continue our cruise.

The most noteworthy feature of this, excepting, of course, the setting and reefing and taking in sail on board a moving vessel, instead of practising all these merely in dumb-show as had been our wont in a stationary s.h.i.+p like the _Saint Vincent_, was the exercise we had with the old-fas.h.i.+oned little muzzle-loading truck guns, which were mounted on wooden carriages of the sort only seen in the old _Victory_ nowadays, with which the _Martin_ was provided.

It was great fun.

The boys in turn detailed to act as crews of the guns used to be numbered off in regular fas.h.i.+on, according to the custom of the service, just as if they were grown men and working on board a s.h.i.+p going into action.

Number 1, who was the captain of the gun, stood in the rear; Number 2, on the right of the former, but clear of the recoil, as if to teach one that prominent and distinguished positions have their drawbacks as well as their advantages; Number 3 stood close up to the s.h.i.+p's side, by the breeching of the gun on the left; and Number 4 occupied a similar post on the right, while Numbers 5 and 6 stood in the rear of 3 and 4, and so on.

Through the energetic instructions of Mr Gadgett, who was a most painstaking officer, and spared no trouble to teach us our duties properly, we had learnt when ash.o.r.e on our drill-ground at Haslar to master all the necessary manipulation of our 'little barkers,' as the gunner used to call them, learning how to cast them loose from their las.h.i.+ngs, run them back for loading, and prepare them for firing, all in similar dumb-show fas.h.i.+on to our sail-drill experiences in the old s.h.i.+p; and now, when we were able to load with real powder and shot, and make Mr Gadgett's 'barkers' bark in earnest, the interest of our gunnery drill was increased tenfold.

It was splendid work; and from the first order, 'Cast loose!' to the last, 'Fire!' it was exciting to the last degree, all of us sponging, loading, and running out the little guns in the highest of spirits, as if we were fighting the Battle of Trafalgar over again, and throwing shot and sh.e.l.l into any number of French and Spanish three-deckers alongside!

We had hard work sometimes to check ourselves from uttering a wild cheer when the order was given to pull the trigger and the gun went off with a grand 'Bang!' sending a cloud of white smoke inboard from its muzzle as its fiery iron messenger leaped forwards and splashed into the sea, either ahead or abeam as the case might be, throwing up a tall column of water on its first plunge that was like a sort of fountain, while it skipped onward, playing 'ducks and drakes' on the top of the waves, until it sank out of sight in the distance, its energy exhausted.

We often used to rig out a target, made up out of an old rum puncheon, fixed on a raft of spars, which we fired at as at a mark, making very good practice, too, after a bit.

Mick soon became one of our best shots, Mr Gadgett complimenting him on having the sharpest eye on board the brig, my chum often, when acting as Number 1, who you must know invariably sights the gun, succeeding in smas.h.i.+ng our improvised target all to pieces.

"How is it, Donovan," asked the gunner on one of these occasions, "you have such a steady aim? Why, boy, you haven't been at it very long.

Your eye is like a hawk, by jingo!"

Mick scratched his head in father's way, puzzled to explain his keenness of vision.

"Faith, sor," he said at length, "it moost 'a bin tryin' to say if I could say any thin' good turn up afore I jined the sarvice, sure; whin me fayther wor a blissid Oitalian organ-grinder an' none of us had nothin' to ate, bedad!"

"By jingo!" exclaimed Mr Gadgett, smiling for once, for I never previously saw the slightest change of muscle on his thin, weather- beaten, grey-whiskered face, "you'll do!"

Before we came back again from this cruise, we had a bout of bad weather while knocking about in the Channel, which brought back to my mind the yarn Larrikins told the first evening I pa.s.sed on board the _Saint Vincent_, in order to distract my attention while he was rigging up my hammock so that it would come down by the run--of seas that were 'mountings 'igh,' and winds that blew the ''air off 'is 'ead!'

I took at the time, it may be recollected, Master Larrikins' tale with a very good pinch of the proverbial salt, believing he only intended to 'pull my leg'; but when on the present occasion the brig began to labour heavily and the green seas, rolling over from the open sea beyond Ushant, the wind having come on to blow a regular stiff sou'-wester, topped our bulwarks and made a clean sweep of the deck, I thought possibly the old joker Larrikins, who had left the training-s.h.i.+p long ere this and was serving as an ordinary seaman on a foreign station, might not have been 'stretching' to such an extent as I had at the time imagined.

The little brig, however, was a staunch sea boat, having braved much worse weather than we now experienced; and, being well handled by our commander, who was a sailor every inch of him, we ran before the gale round the easternmost end of the Isle of Wight and snugly brought up under the lee of Saint Helens, where we dropped both our anchors, remaining in this sheltered roadstead until the weather broke, when we returned to Portsmouth.

So far, everything had gone well with me since I entered on board the _Saint Vincent_, for I had never got into any trouble beyond a slight sc.r.a.pe or two; but tow the Fates, as if to condone the previous good fortune with which they had favoured me, all at once did me a very bad turn, getting me into sad disgrace.

Serious as the matter was, no doubt, in the eyes of the authorities, it was not, however, such a very terrible crime in itself, though it got me into the bad books of the captain, who had been so friendly disposed towards me that he often used to let me take his dog 'Gyp' for a walk when I went ash.o.r.e.

The fact was, to confess my sin outright, I committed a breach of one of the strictest regulations of the training service.

I was caught smoking.

But, I had better tell you all about it from the first to the last, and then, you'll be able to judge for yourself of the heinousness of my offence.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

I GET INTO DISGRACE.

After that first cruise of mine in the little _Martin_, I was at home one Sat.u.r.day afternoon, having had permission from the captain--being what they call 'a local boy,' my parents residing in Portsmouth--to remain ash.o.r.e till Sunday evening at sunset. It was now summer-time, and I was sitting in our back garden, which was more extensive than might have been expected from the surroundings of Bonfire Corner, the house, as I have said, being an old-fas.h.i.+oned one and father having bought the freehold for a mere song in the days when property in Portsea did not fetch such a high price as at present. The pink and white blossoms of the apple-trees, of which we had a tidy number round the garden, had dropped off long ere now and the fruit was beginning to form; but there were plenty of roses still out, and all sorts of old- fas.h.i.+oned flowers, filling the air with fragrance.

I was enjoying myself to rights under the shade of an ancient mulberry- tree, which must have been planted in the time of Queen Elizabeth I should think, judging by its gnarled trunk and huge twisted branches.

Some of these hung rather low, and Jenny had brought out Jack our thrush and suspended his cage along with those of our piping bullfinch and some of the canaries, just above a rustic table, having an old armchair that had seen its better days, in front of it, which was father's favourite seat when at home and the weather was not too bad to go out of doors.

Here was his pipe and tobacco-jar, just as he left them in the morning, it being his habit to take a whiff there after breakfast prior to shouldering his oars, which he always brought back to the cottage of a night for safety's sake, and starting off to his wherry for the day.

I felt rather lonesome, for Mick had not been able to get leave to come ash.o.r.e with me, and Jenny was too busy helping mother house-cleaning to spare much time for a chat after the first greetings had pa.s.sed on my arriving at the house; so, looking at father's pipe and tobacco-jar, the thought came into my head--probably suggested by that wily old Serpent, who, the parson says, is always on the watch to put evil thoughts into empty minds--"Why shouldn't I learn to smoke?"

I don't think I would have carried this thought into action had it not been for 'Ally Sloper,' our c.o.c.katoo, who just then came hopping down the garden-path from the scullery, where he had been having a rare carrying-on with the cat, the rum bird as soon as he caught sight of me flying up on the table and catching hold of the end of father's favourite churchwarden with his claw.

"Say-rah!" he shouted out in the very tones of father's voice, so that I could almost fancy he were there sitting alongside of me. "Blest if I don't have a pipe!"

That settled the matter.

The next moment I had taken the pipe from 'Ally Sloper's' reluctant claw; and, filling it carefully, poking down the tobacco with the end of my finger just as father used to do, I struck a match and started smoking.

I can't say I absolutely liked it at first, the strong narcotic, bitter taste of the tobacco, combined with the smell, making me feel rather giddy; while a gulp of smoke which went the wrong way caused me to cough.

But, I stuck at it all the same, feeling that now at last I was on the highroad to being a man, just like those able-bodied seamen belonging to our s.h.i.+p who used to enjoy 'blowing their cloud,' as they called it, of an evening on board the _Saint Vincent_ when work was done for the day.

Click Like and comment to support us!

RECENTLY UPDATED NOVELS

About Young Tom Bowling Part 14 novel

You're reading Young Tom Bowling by Author(s): John Conroy Hutcheson. This novel has been translated and updated at LightNovelsOnl.com and has already 434 views. And it would be great if you choose to read and follow your favorite novel on our website. We promise you that we'll bring you the latest novels, a novel list updates everyday and free. LightNovelsOnl.com is a very smart website for reading novels online, friendly on mobile. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact us at [email protected] or just simply leave your comment so we'll know how to make you happy.