Patience Wins Part 52

_Plop_!

My heart gave a throb of excitement, for there was a rise evidently made by a big fish over to my right close insh.o.r.e.

"Now if I had been there," I thought, "I should have most likely been able to catch that fish and then--"

Bah! Who wanted to catch a great water-rat that had plumped off the bank into the water? I could see the sleek-coated fellow paddling about close insh.o.r.e. Then he dived down, and there were a lot of tiny bubbles to show his course before he went right in under the bank, which was full of holes.

I could almost fancy I was in the country, for there were a few rushes and some sedgy growth close to where the rat had been busy. Farther off, too, there was the sound that I had heard down in a marshy part of Ess.e.x with my uncles, during one of our excursions. "_Quack, quack, quack! Wuck, wuck, wuck_!"--a duck and a drake just coming down to the water to drink and bathe and feed on the water-weed and snails.

Yes; it quite put me in mind of the country to have wild ducks coming down to the pool, and--there were the two wild ducks! One, as the cry had told me, was a drake, and he had once been white, but old age and Arrowfield soot and the dirty little black yard where he generally lived had changed his tint most terribly, and though he plunged in, and bobbed and jerked the water all over his back, and rubbed the sides of his head and his beak all among his feathers, they were past cleaning.

As to his wife, who expressed herself with a loud quack, instead of saying _wuck, wuck_ in more smothered tones, she was possibly quite as dirty as her lord, but being brown the dirt did not show. Her rags did, for a more disreputable bird I never saw, though she, too, washed and napped her wings, and dived and drenched herself before getting out on the bank to preen and beak over her feathers.

Alas! As people say in books, it was not the country, but dingy, smoke-bewithered Arrowfield, and I wondered to myself why a couple of birds with wings should consent to stay amongst factories and works.

I knew the top of my float by heart; so must that skating spider which had skimmed up to it, running over the top of the water as easily as if it were so much ice. I was growing drowsy and tired. Certainly I leaned my back up against the wall, but it was quite upright, and there was no recompense. Whatever is the use of watching a float that will not bob? It may be one of the best to be got in a tackle-shop, with a lovely subdivision of the paint--blue at the bottom and white at the top, or green and white, or blue and red, but if it obstinately persists in sitting jauntily c.o.c.ked up on the top of the water immovable, fis.h.i.+ng no longer becomes a sport.

But I did not fish all that time for nothing.

As I said, I was becoming drowsy with looking so long at the black cap at the top of my float. Perhaps it was the whirr and hum of the machinery, and the faint sound of plas.h.i.+ng water; even the buzz and churr and shriek of the steel upon the fast spinning stones may have had something to do with it. At any rate I was feeling sleepy and stupid, when all at once I was wide-awake and listening excitedly, for the shrieking of blade held upon grindstone ceased, and I heard a voice that was perfectly familiar to me say:

"Tell 'ee what. Do it at once if you like; but if I had my wayer I'd tie lump o' iron fast on to that theer dorg's collar and drop 'im in dam."

"What good ud that do?" said another voice.

"Good! Why we'd be shut on him."

"Ay, but they'd get another."

"Well, they wouldn't get another boy if we got shut o' this one," said the first voice.

"But yow wouldn't go so far as to--"

The man stopped short, and seemed to give his stone a slap with the blade that he was grinding.

"I d'know. He's a bad un, and allus at the bottom of it if owt is found out."

"Ay, but yow mustn't."

"Well, p'r'aps I wouldn't then, but I'd do something as would mak him think it were time to go home to his mother."

My face grew red, then white, I'm sure, for one moment it seemed to burn, the next it felt wet and cold. I did not feel sleepy any longer, but in an intense state of excitement, for those words came from the window just above my head, so that I could hear them plainly.

"It's all nonsense," I said to myself directly after. "They know I'm here, and it's done to scare me."

Just then the churring and screeching of the grinding steel burst out louder than ever, and I determined to go away and treat all I had heard with silent contempt. Pulling up my line just as a fisher will, I threw in again for one final try, and hardly had the bait reached the bottom before the float bobbed.

I could not believe it at first. It seemed that I must have jerked the line--but no, there it was again, another bob, and another, and then a series of little bobs, and the float moved slowly off over the surface, carrying with it a dozen or so of blacks.

I was about to strike, but I thought I would give the fish a little more time and make sure of him, and, forgetting all about the voices overhead, I was watching the float slowly gliding away, bobbing no longer, but with the steady motion that follows if a good fish has taken the bait.

And what a delight that was! What a reward to my patience! That it was a big one I had no doubt. If it had been a little fish it would have jigged and bobbed the float about in the most absurd way, just as if the little fish were thoughtless, and in a hurry to be off to play on the surface, whereas a big fish made it a regular business, and was calm and deliberate in every way.

"Now for it," I thought, and raising the point of the rod slowly I was just going to strike when the grinding above my head ceased, and one of the voices I had before heard said:

"Well, we two have got to go up to the _Pointed Star_ to-night to get our orders, and then we shall know what's what."

I forgot all about the fish and listened intently.

"Nay, they can't hear," said the voice again, as if in answer to a warning; "wheels makes too much noise. I don't care if they did.

They've had warnings enew. What did they want to coom here for?"

"Ay," said another, "trade's beginning to feel it a'ready. If we let 'em go on our wives and bairns 'll be starving next winter."

"That's a true word, lad; that's a true word. When d'yow think it'll be?"

"Ah, that's kept quiet. We shall know soon enew."

"Ay, when it's done."

"Think this 'll sattle 'em?"

"Sattle! Ay, that it will, and pretty well time. They'll go back to Lonnon wi' their tails twix' their legs like the curs they are. Say, think they've got pistols?"

"Dunno. Sure to hev, ah sud say."

"Oh!"

"Well, s'pose they hev? You aren't the man to be scarred of a pop-gun, are yo'?"

"I d'know. Mebbe I should be if I hev the wuck to do. I'm scarred o'

no man."

"But you're scarred of a pistol, eh lad? Well, I wunner at yo'."

"Well, see what a pistol is."

"Ay, I know what a pistol is, lad. Man's got a pistol, and yo' hit 'im a tap on the knuckles, and he lets it fall. Then he stoops to pick it up, and k.n.o.bstick comes down on his head. Nowt like a k.n.o.bstick, lad, whether it be a man or a bit o' wood. Wants no loading, and is allus safe."

"Well, all I've got to say is, if I have the wuck to do I shall--"

_Churr, churry, screech, and grind_. The noise drowned the words I was eager to hear, and I stood bathed with perspiration, and hot and cold in turn.

That some abominable plot was in hatching I was sure, and in another minute I might have heard something that would have enabled us to be upon our guard; but the opportunity had pa.s.sed, for the men were working harder than ever.

I was evidently in very bad odour with them, and I thought bitterly of the old proverb about listeners never hearing any good of themselves.

What should I do--stop and try to hear more?