The Ocean Cat's Paw Part 12

"I don't know, sir," said the old lady, shaking her head sadly. "The sea is very unruly sometimes. Hadn't you better take my advice, sir, and stop here? The moor's very big, and surely if you and the young gentleman look well you'll be able to find plenty of things to fill your bottles, without going abroad."

"Can't be done, Mrs Champernowne," said Uncle Paul smiling. "Dartmoor isn't the West Coast of Africa, nor yet the Cape of Good Hope, so, much as we have enjoyed being here, we shall have to say good-bye, and live in hopes of coming to see you again some day, for I haven't half worked out the moor, nor yet a hundredth part."

"I am very, very, very sorry," said the old lady again, "but no doubt, sir, you know best. When do you think of going, sir?"

"To-morrow morning, Mrs Champernowne. We can't let the gra.s.s grow under our feet, can we, Rodd?"

"No, uncle," was the reply; and the next morning the portmanteau was packed, the fis.h.i.+ng-rod and naturalist's nets tied up in a neat bundle, a light spring cart was drawn up at the door, and uncle and nephew were soon on their way to the cross roads to take their chance of finding room upon the Plymouth coach, which came within a few miles of the widow's cottage.

They were fortunate, as it happened, and that evening they were safely back at Uncle Paul's home, a pleasant little country house on the high grounds overlooking the glorious harbour dotted with vessels, which included several of the King's men-of-war, and within easy reach of the docks.

"Ah," cried Uncle Paul that evening, as he strolled out into his garden, in company with Rodd, who was carrying a telescope that looked like a small cannon; "that was a fine air up on the moor, my boy, but nothing like this. Take a good long deep breath. Can't you smell the salt and the seaweed? Doesn't it set you longing to be off?"

"Well--yes, uncle," replied the boy, smiling and s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his face till it was all wrinkled about the eyes; "but I begin to be a bit afraid."

"Afraid, sir? What of?"

"That I shan't turn out such a good sailor as I should like to be."

"Why, what do you mean? Now, look here, Rodd; don't you tell me that you want to back out of going upon this trip."

"Oh no, uncle," cried the boy eagerly. "I want to go, of course!"

"But what are you afraid of?"

"Well, you see, uncle, coasting about with you in a fisherman's lugger for a few days, and always keeping within sight of land, is one thing; going right away across the ocean is quite another."

"Well, sir, who said it wasn't?" cried Uncle Paul. "What then?"

"Suppose I turn ill, uncle?"

"Well, sir, suppose you do. Am I not doctor enough to put you right again?"

"Oh, I don't mean really ill, uncle. I mean sea-sick; and it would seem so stupid."

"Horribly; yes. You'd better be! Pooh! Rubbis.h.!.+ Nonsense! You talk like a great Molly. Now, no nonsense, Rodney. Speak out frankly and candidly. You mean that now it has come to the point you think it too serious, and you want to s.h.i.+rk?"

"I don't, uncle; I don't, indeed, and I do wish you wouldn't call me Rodney!" cried the boy earnestly.

"I shall, sir, _as long as I live, if you play me false now_."

"Oh, uncle, what a shame!" cried the boy pa.s.sionately. "Play you false!

Who wants to play you false? I only wanted to tell you frankly that I felt a bit afraid of not being quite equal to the sea. I want to go, and I mean to go, and you oughtn't to jump upon me like this, and call me Rodney."

The boy stood before the doctor, flushed and excited, as he continued--

"You talk to me, uncle, as if you thought that I was a regular coward and afraid of the sea."

"Then you shouldn't make me, sir. Who was it said afraid? Why, you have been out with me for days together, knocking about, in pretty good rough weather too."

"Yes, uncle, but that was all within sight of land."

"What's that got to do with it? It's often much rougher close in sh.o.r.e, especially on a rocky coast, than it is out on the main."

"I wish I hadn't spoken," cried Rodd pa.s.sionately.

"So do I, sir."

"I couldn't help thinking I might turn very sick for days, and get laughed at by the crew and called a swab."

"Oh," said Uncle Paul, laughing, "you talked as if you were afraid of the sea, and all the time, you conceited young puppy, you mean that you are afraid of the men."

"Well, yes, uncle, I suppose that that really is it."

"Humph! Then why didn't you say so, and not talk as if you, the first of my crew that I reckoned upon, were going to mutiny and give it all up?"

"Give it up, uncle?" cried the boy. "Why, you know that I am longing to go."

"Ah, well, that sounds more like it, Pickle," said Uncle Paul, looking sideways at the boy through his half-closed eyes. "Then I suppose it is all a false alarm."

"Of course it is, uncle," cried Rodd.

"Well, we may as well make sure, you know, because once we are started it won't be long before we are out of sight of land, and there'll be no turning back."

"Well, I don't want to turn back, uncle."

"Then you shouldn't have talked as if you thought you might. Are you afraid now?"

"Not a bit, uncle. I am ready to start to-morrow morning."

"Ah, well, you won't, my boy, for there's everything to do first."

"Everything to do?"

"Of course. It's not like taking a few bottles and pill-boxes and a net or two to go up on the moor. Why, there's our s.h.i.+p to find first, and then to get her fitted with our nets and sounding-lines and dredges and all sorts of odds and ends, with reserves and provisions for all that we lose. Then there's to collect a crew."

"Oh, there'll be plenty of fellows down by the Barbican or hanging about down there who will jump at going."

"Don't you be so precious sanguine, my fine fellow. This will be all so fresh that the men won't be so ready as you expect. The first thing a seaman will ask will be, 'Where are we bound? What port?'"

"Well, uncle; tell them."

"Tell them what I don't know myself unless I say Port Nowhere on the High Seas! It will be all a matter of chance, Pickle, where we go and what we do, and I may as well say it now, if any one gets asking you what we are going to do, your answer is included in just these few words--We are going to explore."

Rodd nodded in a short business-like way.

"All right, uncle; I'll remember," he cried promptly. "Then you are going to hire a s.h.i.+p and engage a crew?"

"Well," said Uncle Paul thoughtfully, "we are landsmen--I mean landsman and a boy--but we may as well begin to be nautical at once and call things by the sea-going terms. No, my boy, I am not going to engage a s.h.i.+p--too big."