Dick o' the Fens Part 10

"I can't quite understand how it could have broken through here," said the squire; "but I suppose it was quite a small crack at first, and the water soon washed it bigger."

There was a great channel at their feet, cut clean through the embankment; and though the party were standing amongst the sand, they could see that the bank which protected the fen from the sea, and ran up alongside of the river, running inland, was formed of thick clay, matted with the long roots of the gra.s.s.

"Who was it made this great bank, father?" said d.i.c.k.

"Your old friends you read about at school, they say, the Romans, first; but of course it has been added to since. Well, neighbour, we can do no good by ourselves. We must call together the adventurers, and it can soon be mended and made stronger than it was at first. Let's go back.

Unless we have a gale, no more water will come through this. It's years since I've been here. If one had taken a look round one would have seen the weak spot."

They re-entered the punt, and Hickathrift poled them back, being relieved in turn by Dave and Warren, by whose solitary cottage they paused--a mere hut upon a sandy patch, standing like an island out of the watery waste, and here he elected to stay with the rabbits which frisked about and showed their cottony tuft tails as they darted down into their holes.

"How about your cottage, Dave?" said the squire, shading his eyes as he looked across the flooded fen.

"Wet," said Dave laconically.

"Yes, there are four feet of water yonder, I should say. You will have to stop at the Toft for the present."

"Not I, mester," said the rough fellow. "I don't mind a drop o'

watter."

"Not to wade through, perhaps, my man; but you can't sleep there."

"Sleep in my boat," said Dave laconically. "Won't be the first time."

"Do as you please," said the squire quietly; and he turned to talk to Farmer Tallington.

"I say, Dave," whispered d.i.c.k, "you're just like an old goose."

"Eh?" said the man with his eyes flas.h.i.+ng.

"I mean being able to sleep on the water floating," said d.i.c.k, laughing, and the angry look died out.

It was plain enough that the water had sunk a good deal already, but the farmers had to face the fact that it would be weeks before the fen was in its old state, and that if the breach in the sea-wall were not soon repaired, they might at any time be afflicted with a similar peril.

But notice was sent to those interested, while the farmers here and there who held the patches of raised land round the borders of the fen obeyed the summons, and for about a month there was busy work going on at the sea-wall with spade and basket, clay being brought from pits beneath the sand upon the sea-sh.o.r.e, carried up to the breach, and trampled down, till at last, without further mishap, the gap in the embankment was filled up strongly, and the place declared to be safe.

Of those who toiled hard none showed so well in the front as Dave o' the 'Coy, and John Warren, and the squire was not stinted in his praise one day toward the end of the task.

"Wuck hard, mester!" said Dave. "Enough to mak' a man wuck. John Warren here don't want all his rabbits weshed away; and how am I to manage my 'coy if it's all under watter."

"Ah, how indeed!" said the squire, and he went away; but d.i.c.k stayed behind with Tom Tallington, and sat upon the top of the embankment, laughing, till the rough fen-man stood resting on his spade.

"Now then, what are yow gimbling [grinning] at, young mester?" he said.

"At yow, Dave," said d.i.c.k, imitating his broad speech.

"Then it arn't manners, lad. Thowt you'd been to school up to town yonder to larn manners both on you?"

"So we did, Dave, and a lot more things," cried d.i.c.k. "How to know when anyone's gammoning."

"Gammoning, lad?" said Dave uneasily.

"Yes, gammoning. You don't want the flood done away with."

"Not want the flood done away wi'!"

"No; and you don't want the fen drained and turned into fields."

"Do yow?" said Dave fiercely, and he took a step nearer to the lad.

"No, of course not," cried d.i.c.k. "It would spoil all the fun."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Dave, as his yellow face puckered up with a dry smile, and in a furtive way which fitted with his fox-skin cap he turned and gave John Warren a peculiar look.

"When may we come over to the 'coy, Dave?"

"When you like, lads. Soon as the watter's down low enough for us to work it."

"It's sinking fast, Dave," said Tom. "It's all gone from our garden now, and the rooms are getting dry."

"Ay, but my pipes are covered still, and it'll be a good month, my lads, 'fore we can do any good. But I might ha' took you both out in the punt for a bit o' shooting if you hadn't played that game on me, and spoiled my horn and wasted all my powder."

"Ah, it was too bad, Dave; but there are a couple of fine large horns at home I've saved for you, and we've bought you a pound of powder."

"Nay, I sha'n't believe it till I see 'em," said Dave. "I did mean to hev asked you lads to come netting, but I can't ask them as plays tricks."

"Netting! What, the ruffs?"

"Ay, I weer thinking about heving a try for 'em. But I shall give it up."

"Dave, you promised me a year ago that you'd take us with you some time, and you never have," cried d.i.c.k.

"Nay, did I though?"

"Yes; didn't he, Tom?"

"Nay, yow needn't ask him; he'll be sewer to say yes," said Dave, grinning.

"Look here," cried d.i.c.k, "I'm not going to argue with you, Dave. Are you going to take us?"

"Some day, lad, when the watter's down, if my live birds aren't all drownded and my stales [stuffed decoys] spoiled."

"Oh, they won't be!" cried d.i.c.k. "When will you go?"

"When the watter's down, my lad."

"It's low enough now. There are plenty of places where you can spread your nets."

"Ay, but plenty of places don't suit me, my lad. You wait a bit and we'll see. Get John Warren to tek you ferreting."