Parkhurst Boys Part 6

"Why not?" again inquired Hall, this time testily. He never liked Charlie quite as much as Hutton and I did, and was evidently displeased to have him now putting forward objections to a proposition of his own making. "Why not?"

"Because--because," began the boy hesitatingly--"because I don't want to go."

Hall became angry. Like most boys not sure of the honesty of their own motives, he disliked to have it suggested that what he was urging was wrong. He therefore replied, with a taunt keener than any persuasion--

"Poor little milksop, I suppose he's afraid of getting drowned, or of doing something his mamma, or his grandmamma, or somebody wouldn't like their little pet to do. We'd better put him ash.o.r.e, boys; and mind his precious little boots don't get wet while we're about it!"

It was a cruel blow, and struck home at Archer's one weak point.

Plucky and adventurous as he was, the one thing he could not endure was to be laughed at. And his face flushed, and his lips quivered, as he heard Hall's brutal speech, and marked the smile with which, I am ashamed to say, we received it.

"I'm _not_ afraid," he exclaimed.

"Then why don't you want to go?"

He was silent for some time. A struggle was evidently going on in his mind. But the sneer on Hall's face determined him.

"I do want to go. I've changed my mind!"

"That's the style," said Hutton, patting him on the back. "I knew you were one of the right sort."

Hall, too, condescended to approve of his decision, and at once began to busy himself with preparations for our immediate start.

I, however, was by no means comfortable at what had taken place. It was plain to see Charlie had yielded against his better judgment, and that with whatever alacrity he might now throw himself into the scheme, his mind was not easy. Had I been less selfishly inclined towards my own pleasure, I should have sided with him in his desire not to engage in a questionable proceeding; but, alas! my wishes in this case had ruled my conscience. Still, I made one feeble effort on Archer's behalf.

"Hall," whispered I, as I stooped with him to disengage the ropes at the bottom of the boat, "what's the use of taking Charlie when he doesn't want to go? We may as well put him ash.o.r.e if he'd sooner not go."

"Archer," said Hall, looking up from his ropes, "did you say you wanted to go, or not?"

The question was accompanied by a look which made it hard for the boy to reply anything but--

"I want to go."

"And it's your own free will, eh?"

"Yes."

So ended my weak effort. If only I had been more determined to do right; if, alas! I had imagined a thousandth part of what that day was to bring forth, I would have set Archer ash.o.r.e, whether he would or not, even if to do so had cost me my life.

But this is antic.i.p.ating.

For half an hour we were busy getting our boat trim for her voyage. She was a somewhat old craft, in which for many years past we had been wont to cruise down the seaward reaches of the Colven, carrying one lug-sail, and with thwarts for two pairs of oars. She was steady on her keel, and, as far as we had been able to judge, sound in every respect, and a good sailor. Certainly, on a day like this, a c.o.c.klesh.e.l.l would have had nothing to fear, and we were half sorry we had not a lighter boat than the one we were in to take us across to Shargle.

Hall, who a.s.sumed the command from the first, impressed us not a little by the businesslike way in which he set to work to get everything s.h.i.+p- shape before starting. He knew clearly the use of each rope and pulley; he knew precisely the necessary amount of ballast to be taken, and the proper place for stowing it; he discoursed learnedly on knots and hitches, and aroused our sympathy by his laments on the absence of a bowsprit and foresail. Hutton was sent ash.o.r.e to buy provisions.

Charlie was set to baling out the boat. I occupied myself with mopping the seats, and generally "swabbing her up," as Hall called it, so that in due time we were ready to sail, well provisioned and well equipped, on our eventful voyage.

Up went the sail; we watched it first flap wildly, and then swell proudly in the wind as the sheet rope was drawn in, and Hall's hand put round the helm. Then, after a little coquetting, as if she were loth to act as desired without coaxing, she rose lightly to the rippling waves, and glided forward on her way.

"Adams," said Hall, "you'd better make yourself snug up in the bows; Hutton, sit where you are, and be ready to help me with the sail when we tack. Charlie, old boy, come down astern, beside me; sit a little farther over, Hutton. Now she's trim."

Trim she was, and a strange feeling of exhilaration filled my breast as we now darted forward before the steady breeze, dancing over the waves with a merry splash, tossing them to either side of our prow, and listening to them as they gurgled musically under our keel.

"There's Neil!" cried Charlie, as we pa.s.sed the coastguards' boathouse, "spying at us through the telescope."

"Let him spy," laughed Hall; "I dare say he'd like to be coming too.

It's slow work for those fellows, always hanging about doing nothing."

"What's he waving about?" inquired I from the bows, for we could see that the sailor had put down his gla.s.s, and was apparently trying to catch our attention by his gesticulations.

Hall looked attentively for a moment, and then said--

"Oh, I see, he's pointing up at the flagstaff to show us the wind's in the north-east. I suppose he thinks no one knows that but himself."

"Let's see," said Hutton, "we are going north-west, aren't we?"

"Yes, so we shall be able to make use of the wind both ways, with a little tacking."

"He's shouting something now," said Charlie, with his eyes still on Neil.

"Oh, he's an old woman," said Hall, laughing; "he's always wanting to tell you this and that, as if no one knew anything about sailing but himself." And he took off his hat and waved it ceremoniously to the old sailor, who continued shouting and beckoning all the while, though without avail, for the only words that came to us across the water were "fresh" and "afternoon," and we were not much enlightened by them.

"I'm afraid he's fresh in the morning," laughed Hutton.

A short sail brought us to the bar mouth, over which, as the tide was in and the sea quiet, we pa.s.sed without difficulty, although Hall had bade us have the oars ready in case of emergency, should it be necessary to lower our sail in crossing. But of this there was no need, and in a minute we were at last in the bay, and fairly at sea.

"Do you see Parkhurst over the trees there, you fellows?" cried Charlie, pointing behind us. "I never saw the place from the bay before."

"Nor I," I answered; "it looks better here than from any other side."

We were all proud of the old school-house, and fully impressed with its superiority over any other building of the kind in the kingdom.

The view in the bay was extremely beautiful, Shargle Head stood out opposite us, distinct and grand, towering up from the water, and sweeping back to join the moorland hills behind. On our left, close beside the bar mouth, rose Raven Cliff, where we so often had been wont to lie and look out on this very bay; and one by one we recognised the familiar spots from our new point of view, and agreed that from no side does a grand coast look so grand as from the sea.

Our boat scudded along merrily, Hall keeping her a steady course, well up to the wind. After a few lessons we got to know our respective duties (so we thought) with all the regularity of a trained s.h.i.+p's crew.

With the wind as it was, right across our course, we had not much need to tack; but when the order to "stand by" did arrive, we prided ourselves that we knew how to act.

Hall let go the sheet, and Hutton lowered the sail, Charlie put round the helm, and I in the bows was ready to aid the others in s.h.i.+fting the canvas to the other side of the mast and hauling up the sail again.

Then Hall resumed charge of the helm and drew in the sheet, Charlie and Hutton "trimmed" over to the other side of the boat, and once again our little craft darted forward.

We were all in exuberant spirits that lovely summer morning; even Charlie seemed to have forgotten his uneasiness at first starting, for he was now the life and soul of our party.

He told us wonderful stories about this very bay, gathered from some of his favourite histories. How, after the defeat of the Spanish Armada, when the proud vessels of Spain were driven partly by tempest, partly by the pursuit of our admiral, headlong along: this very coast, one of them had got into Colveston Bay, and there been driven ash.o.r.e at the base of Raven Cliff, not one man of all her crew surviving that awful wreck.

And he repeated one after another the legends connected with Druce Castle, whose ruined turrets we could discern away behind us, and of all the coves and crags and caves as we pa.s.sed them, till, in our imagination, the bay became alive once more with s.h.i.+ps and battle, and we seemed to watch the gleam of armour on the castle walls, and the glare of beacons on the headlands, and to hear the thunder of cannon from the beach; when presently Hall's cheery call to "stand by" wakened us into a sudden recollection of our present circ.u.mstances. And then what songs we sang! what famous sea stories Hall told us! how Hutton made us roar with his recitations! how the time seemed to fly, and the boat too, and we in it, until at last we found the Great Shargle towering over our heads, and knew we had all but reached our destination.

Hall looked at his watch.

"That was a good run, boys," said he; "not quite two hours--an uncommonly good run for an old tub like this. Now where shall we land?"