Michael Penguyne Part 8

Mr Tremayne invited the inmates of the cottage to come down and see it.

"What do you think of her?" he asked, after they had greeted the two ladies.

"She is a handy craft, sir, and just suited for this place," answered Michael.

"I hope you will find her so," replied Mr Tremayne. "Here is a paper which a.s.signs her to you as her master, and if you will moor her fast her present crew will leave her, as we purpose to continue our journey by land, and have ordered the carriage to meet us at the top of the hill."

Michael was unable to express his grat.i.tude in words. Dame Lanreath spoke for him.

"May G.o.d reward you and your wife and children for your kindness to the orphans, and to an old woman who has well-nigh run her course on earth.

We were cast down, though we know that His mercy endureth for ever, and you have lifted us up and shown us that He is faithful and never fails to send help in time of need."

Nelly took Miss Tremayne's hand, and, prompted by her feelings, kissed it affectionately; but even she was for the moment unable to express her feelings by words.

"Thank you, sir, thank you," said Michael at last, as they went back.

"You have made a man of me, and I can now work for those who have to look to me for support."

"I hope you will have the strength, as I am sure you have the will, and may G.o.d bless you, my lad," said Mr Tremayne, shaking him warmly by the hand, for he was far more pleased with the few words Michael had uttered than had he poured out his grat.i.tude in measured language. As he and the ladies proceeded up the pathway, Nelly ran into the cottage. She soon again overtook them.

"Will you please, miss, take these small sh.e.l.ls?" she said; "they are little worth, I fear, but I have nothing else to give which you might wish to accept, and they may put you in mind of this place, and those who will pray for you and bless your father and mother as long as they live."

Miss Tremayne, much pleased, thanked Nelly for her gift, and, a.s.suring her that she should never forget her or Michael and her granny, accepted the gift.

It is scarcely necessary to say that Michael spent a considerable portion of the remainder of the day examining his new boat over and over again, blessing the donor in his heart, and thankful that he should now be able to support Nelly and her granny.

Then the little family a.s.sembled in their sitting room, and offered up their thanks to the merciful Being Who looked down upon them in their distress.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Michael Penguyne made ample use of his new boat. Nelly proposed that she should be called the "Dove."

"You see she was sent to us when all around seemed so dark and gloomy, just as the dove returned to Noah, to show that G.o.d had not forgotten him."

"Then we will call her the 'Dove'," said Michael; and the "Dove" from henceforth became the name of Michael's new boat.

Early and late Michael was in his boat, though he took good care not to be caught to leeward of his port again by a gale of wind. When ash.o.r.e he was employed mending his nets and refitting his boat's gear or his fis.h.i.+ng-lines. Never for a moment was he idle, for he always found something which ought to be done; each rope's-end was pointed; his rigging was never chafed; and the moment any service was wanted he put it on.

Thus a couple of years pa.s.sed by, Dame Lanreath and Nelly setting out day after day to sell the fish or lobsters and crabs he caught, for which they seldom failed to obtain a good price.

At length, however, he found that he could do better with a mate.

"I must get David Treloar, as I said some time ago," he observed to Nelly. "He is twice as strong as I am, though it would not do to trust him alone in a boat, as he never seems to know which way the wind is, or how the tide is running; but he is honest and good-natured, and staunch as steel, and he will do what I tell him. That's all I want. If he had been with me in the little 'Duck,' we might have gained the harbour and saved her, and though I take all the care I can, yet I may be caught again in the same way."

David Treloar was a nephew of old Reuben Lanaherne, who had done his best to bring up the poor lad, and make a fisherman of him. His father had been lost at sea, and his mother had gone out of her mind, and soon afterwards died.

Michael found him near his uncle's house, attempting, though not very expertly, to mend a net.

He was a broad-shouldered, heavy-looking youth, with an expression of countenance which at first sight appeared far from prepossessing; but when spoken to kindly, or told to do anything he liked--and he was ready to do most things--it brightened up, and even a stranger would have said he was a trustworthy fellow, though he might be lacking in intelligence.

"So glad you are come, Michael," he said. "Here have I been working away at these meshes, and cannot make them come even; the more I pull at them the worse they are. Just do you use your fingers and settle the job for me, and I will do anything for you."

"I know you will, David, and so I am pretty certain that you will come and work in my boat."

"What, this afternoon?" asked David.

"No, but always. I want you to be my mate."

"Hurra! hurra! that I will, lad, with all my heart. Uncle Reuben has got enough lads of his own, he does not want me, and the rest are always making fun at me; but you won't do that, Michael, I know. We will soon show them that we can catch as many fish as they can, you and I together; and uncle often says I am as strong as a grown man, and stronger than many." And the young Hercules stretched out his brawny arms.

Michael had not expected to obtain a mate so easily, for David never thought of making terms; provided he got food enough for the day, that was all he thought about. Michael, however, intended to settle that matter with Uncle Reuben. His wish was to act justly towards all men, and pay David fully as much as he was worth.

Able now to use his nets, Michael could look forward to the pilchard season, when he might hope to reap a rich harvest from the sea.

Soon after this he fell in with Eban Cowan.

"So I see you have got that dolt David Treloar as your mate," observed Eban. "If you had asked me, I would have advised you to take a chap worth two of him. He is big and strong enough, but he has no sense. I wonder, indeed, Michael, that you can go on year after year content to catch a few fish and lobsters, when you might make no end of money and live at home most days in the week enjoying your comfort and doing nothing. Just see how father and I live. You don't suppose the mill, and the fish, and our few acres of ground enable us to do that."

"I don't ask how you get your living--I do not wish to interfere with my neighbours; but I know that it is my duty to work hard every day that the weather will let me," answered Michael.

"That may be your taste; but I wonder you like to see Nelly wearing her old frock and hood which have become far too small for her, and Aunt Lanreath's old jacket and petticoat are well-nigh worn out."

Michael acknowledged that such was the case, and observed that he hoped they would soon get new garments.

"You might get them at once if you will join us in our business,"

answered Eban. "What with the fellows who have gone to sea, and some few who have been taken and sent to prison, and those who have been drowned or lost their lives in other ways, we have not as many men as we want. There is good pay to be got, and other profits besides. You would be perfectly safe, for you have a good character, and no one would suspect you of being engaged in the free-trade service."

"I tell you, Eban, once for all, I will have nothing to do with smuggling," answered Michael, firmly. "You say no one will suspect me, but you forget that G.o.d sees and hears everything we do, or say, or think. Though my fellow-men might not suspect me, He would know that I was engaged in unlawful work. Darkness is no darkness to Him. Day and night to Him are both alike."

"I don't let myself think about those sort of things," answered Eban Cowan, in an angry tone. "I ask you again, will you be a sensible fellow and unite with us as I have invited you?"

"No, I will not," said Michael. "I do not wish to be unfriendly with you, but when you ask me to do what I know to be wrong I cannot look upon you as a friend."

"Take your own way, then," exclaimed Eban, angrily. "You may think better of the matter by-and-by: then all you have to do is to come to me and say so."

Eban and Michael parted for the time. The former, however, was a constant visitor at Dame Lanreath's cottage. He did not disguise his admiration for Nelly Trefusis. She might have been flattered, for he was a good-looking, fair-spoken youth, and as he dressed well and had always plenty of money in his pocket, he was looked upon as one of the princ.i.p.al young men in the neighbourhood.

Still Nelly did not consider him equal to Michael.

Time went on: she was becoming a young woman, and Michael was no longer the little boy she had looked upon in her early days as her brother.

He, too, had ceased to treat her with the affectionate familiarity he used to do when he supposed her to be his sister. Still he looked upon her as the being of all others whom he was bound to love, and protect, and support to the utmost of his power. Had, however, any young man whom he esteemed, and whom Nelly liked, appeared and offered to become her husband, he would possibly have advised her to accept him, though he might have felt that the light of his home had departed. Indeed, he was so occupied that the thought of marrying at some future time had never entered his head.

Though Nelly gave Eban Cowan no encouragement, he still continued, whenever he could get a fair pretence, to visit the cottage, and never failed to walk by her side when he met her out. Generally he came saying that he wished to see Michael, whom he always spoke of as his most intimate friend, though Michael did not consider himself so. He knew too much about Eban to desire his friends.h.i.+p; indeed, he doubted very much that Eban really cared for him.

"Your friend Eban has been here again to-day," said Nelly, one evening when Michael returned home late. "He waited and waited, and though I told him I could not say when you would come back, he still sat on, declaring that he must see you, as he wanted you to go somewhere with him, or do something, though what it was he would not tell us. At last, as it grew dark, he was obliged to be off, and neither granny nor I invited him to stay longer."

"I am glad he did go," answered Michael; "but do not call him my friend.

If he was a true friend he would give me good advice and try to lead me aright; instead of that he gives me bad advice, and tries to lead me to do what I know is wrong. There--you now know what I think of Eban Cowan."