Digby Heathcote: The Early Days of a Country Gentleman's Son and Heir. Kingston William Henry Giles

Чтение книги онлайн.

      “It’s very strange,” soliloquised Toby, “the fathers and mothers of these young ge’men pays lots of money to have ’em taught to ride and dance, and to speak Latin and French, and all sorts of gimcrack nonsense, and not one in a thousand ever thinks of making them learn how to knot, and splice, and reef, and steer, and to take an observation, or work a day’s work, which to my mind is likely to be far more useful to ’em when they comes to take care of themselves in the world. As for me, I don’t know what I should have done without the first, though the shooting the sun and the navigation was above me a good way.”

      “There’s nothing like leather.” Toby would have said, there is nothing like hemp, and pitch, and tar, and heart of oak. It is quite as well that different people should have different opinions. Thus the world is prevented from stagnating.

      Chapter Four

      Digby, as he became more practised in the arts, gained a keen relish for boating, not mere pulling, but for sailing – the harder it blew, the better pleased he was. In this he was joined by Easton, who was always delighted when old Toby would take them out on a stormy day. Marshall and the others confessed that they liked fine weather sailing.

      “But, suppose the boat was capsized, what would you do?” said Marshall to Digby.

      “Hold on to her, I suppose,” was the answer.

      “But very likely you would be thrown to a distance, what then?”

      “Why I should try and catch what was nearest to me,” replied Digby.

      “But suppose there was nothing near you,” remarked his friend.

      “Then, I suppose I should – . Let me see, I scarcely know what I should do – I should try to swim,” said Digby, after some hesitation.

      “That is just what I wanted to bring you to,” said Marshall. “You have not learned to swim, you know, and you assuredly would not then swim for the first time, so that if no one was near to help you, you would inevitably be drowned. Take my advice – learn to swim forthwith; Toby will teach you. If you were to go to Eton, you would not be allowed to go in the boats till you had learnt. Everybody should know how to swim, both for their own sakes and for the benefit of their fellow-creatures. It is really disgraceful for an English boy not to know how to do what even savages can do so well.”

      Marshall went on in this style till Digby felt perfectly ashamed of himself, and resolved to learn as soon as possible if Toby would teach him. He was manly enough, as has been seen, in disposition, but all his knowledge of manly exercises he had acquired from John Pratt, except riding, which his father had taken a pride in teaching him. Swimming was not among John Pratt’s accomplishments, and so Digby had remained ignorant of it. There are many boys like him, brought up at home or at small private schools, who are even worse off. In many instances their education is very carefully attended to, but for fear of accidents they are not allowed to bathe, or climb trees, or to shoot. Numbers have suffered from this mistake when they have had to go out into the world and take care of themselves – they have been drowned, when, had they been able to swim, their lives would have been saved; had they been accustomed to climb, they might have scaped from a burning house, a wrecked ship, or a wild beast, while they have been called upon to use fire-arms before they know how to load a gun.

      “Toby,” said Digby, “I want to learn how to swim.”

      “Then come along, master,” replied the old man, and they rowed across to a quiet little bay, with a sandy shore, sheltered by rocks, on the side of the river opposite the town. “Pull off your clothes, master,” said Toby, as they were still some little way from the shore.

      Digby did as he was bid.

      “Now, jump overboard,” added Toby.

      Digby stood up, but as he looked into the water and could see no bottom, he shuddered at the thought of plunging in. Toby passed a band round his waist with a rope to it, but Digby scarcely perceived this – he felt himself pushed, and over he went, heels over head, under the water.

      “Oh, I’m drowning, I’m drowning,” he cried out when he came to the surface.

      “Oh no, you’re not, master, you’re all right,” said the old man. “Strike out for the shore, and try if you can’t swim there.”

      Digby did strike out, but wildly, and not in a way that would have kept him afloat.

      “That’s the way you’d have done if the boat was capsized, and you’d have drowned yourself and any one who came to help you,” remarked Toby; “but catch hold of this oar. Now strike away with your feet, right astern; not out of the water, though; keep them lower down. That’s the way to go ahead. Steady, though; strike both of them together. Slow, though; slower. We’re in no hurry, there’s plenty of time; you can learn the use of your hands another day. Draw your legs well under you. Now, as I give the word – strike out, draw up; strike out, draw up. That will do famously. If you keep steadily at it you’ll learn to swim in a very few days.”

      Digby felt rather tired when he and the boat at length reached the shore. He had some notion that he had towed her there, which he had not, though. He had learned an important part of the art of swimming. When he came out of the water, and had dressed, Toby showed him how to use his hands.

      “Now, Master Heathcote, look here. Do as I do.”

      Toby put his hands together, with the fingers straight out and close to each other, and the palms slightly hollowed. Then he brought them up to his breast, and darting them forward, separated his hands and pressed them backwards till he brought his elbows down to the hips, close to his body, and again turned his wrists till his hands once more got back to the attitude with which he had started. He made Digby do this over and over again, till he was quite eager to jump into the water and put his knowledge into practice.

      “No, no, master,” said Toby, “you’ve had bathing enough to-day. Just do you keep on doing those movements whenever you have a spare moment, and to-morrow we’ll see how well you can do them in the water.”

      Digby was certain that not only would he do them perfectly, but that he should be able to swim any distance.

      Toby said nothing, but his nose curled up in its quiet funny way.

      The next day was very fine, and all the boys came down to bathe, and to see Digby swim, as he boasted he could do perfectly well. They crossed over to the bay, all of them getting ready for a plunge.

      “Now, Digby,” cried Marshall, when they got near the shore, “overboard we go.”

      “All right,” cried Digby, putting his hands into the scientific attitude, as far as he could recollect it; and, with great courage, he jumped into the water.

      Somehow or other, he could not tell why, down he went some way under the surface, and when he came up he had forgotten all about the way to strike out which Toby had taught him. Instead of that, he flung about his arms and kicked his legs out in the wildest manner, and would have gone down again had not Marshall swam up alongside him, and, putting his hand under his chin, told him to keep perfectly quiet till he had collected his senses. He had resolution enough to do this, and was surprised to find himself floating on the surface of the water with so little support.

      “Bravo, Master Marshall,” cried Toby. “Now strike out, СКАЧАТЬ