Jacob Faithful. Фредерик Марриет

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      Neither admonition was, however, minded by Tom, who took what he considered his allowance, and then very coolly pulled alongside, and handed up the basket and bundle of clean clothes on deck. Tom then gave the boat’s painter to his father, who, I perceived, intended to salute him with the end of it as soon as he came up; but Tom was too knowing—he surged the boat ahead, and was on deck and forward before his father could stump up to him. The main hatch was open, and Tom put that obstacle between his father and himself before he commenced his parley.

      “What’s the matter, father?” said Tom, smiling, and looking at me.

      “Matter, you scamp! How dare you touch the bottle?”

      “The bottle—the bottle’s there, as good as ever.”

      “The grog is what I mean—how dare you drink it?”

      “I was half-way between my mother and you, and so I drank success and long life to you both. Ain’t that being a very dutiful son?”

      “I wish I had my legs back again, you rascal!”

      “You wish you had the grog back again, you mean, father.”

      “You have to choose between—for if you had the grog you’d keep your legs.”

      “For the matter of drinking the grog, you scamp, you seem determined to stand in my shoes.”

      “Well, shoes are of no use to you now, father—why shouldn’t I? Why don’t you trust me? If you hadn’t locked the cupboard, I wouldn’t have helped myself.” And Tom, whose bootlace was loose, stooped down to make it fast.

      Old Tom, who was still in wrath, thought this a good opportunity, as his son’s head was turned the other way, to step over the bricks, with which, as I before said, the lighter had been laden level with the main hatchway, and take his son by surprise. Tom, who had no idea of this manoeuvre, would certainly have been captured, but, fortunately for him, one of the upper bricks turned over, and let his father’s wooden leg down between two of the piles, where it was jammed fast. Old Tom attempted to extricate himself, but could not. “Tom, Tom, come here,” cried he, “and pull me out.”

      “Not I,” replied Tom.

      “Jacob, Jacob, come here; Tom, run and take the helm.”

      “Not I,” replied Tom.

      “Jacob, never mind the helm, she’ll drift all right for a minute,” cried old Tom; “come and help me.”

      But I had been so amused with the scene, and having a sort of feeling for young Tom, that I declared it impossible to leave the helm without her going on the banks. I therefore remained, wishing to see in what way the two Toms would get out of their respective scrapes.

      “Confound these—! Tom, you scoundrel, am I to stick here all day?”

      “No, father, I don’t suppose you will. I shall help you directly.”

      “Well, then, why don’t you do it?”

      “Because I must come to terms. You don’t think I’d help myself to a thrashing, do you?”

      “I won’t thrash you, Tom. Shiver my timbers if I do.”

      “They’re in a fair way of being shivered as it is, I think. Now, father, we’re both even.”

      “How’s that?”

      “Why you clapped a stopper over all on me this morning, and now you’ve got one on yourself.”

      “Well, then, take off mine, and I’ll take off yours.”

      “If I unlock your leg, you’ll unlock the cupboard?”

      “Yes.”

      “And you promise me a stiff one after dinner?”

      “Yes, yes, as stiff as I stand here.”

      “No, that will be too much, for it would set me fast. I only like it about half-and-half, as I took it just now.”

      Tom, who was aware that his father would adhere to his agreement, immediately went to his assistance, and throwing out some of the upper bricks, released him from his confinement. When old Tom was once more on deck and on his legs, he observed, “It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good. The loss of my leg has been the saving of you many a time, Mr Tom.”

      It was now time to anchor, as we were meeting the flood. Tom, who officiated as cook, served up the dinner, which was ready; and we were all very pleasant; Tom treating his father with perfect confidence. As we had not to weigh again for some hours, our repast was prolonged, and old Tom, having fulfilled his promise to his son of a stiff one, took one or two himself, and became very garrulous.

      “Come, spin us a good yarn, father; we’ve nothing to do, and Jacob will like to hear you.”

      “Well, then, so I will,” answered he; “what shall it be about?”

      “Fire and water, of course,” replied Tom.

      “Well, then, I’ll tell you something about both, since you wish it; how I came into his Majesty’s sarvice, through fire, and how the officer who pressed me went out of it through water. I was still ’prentice, and wanted about three months to sarve my time, when, of course, I should no longer be protected from sarving the king, when the ship I was in sailed up the Baltic with a cargo of bullocks. We had at least two hundred on board, tied up on platforms on every deck, with their heads close to the sides, and all their sterns looking in-board. They were fat enough when they were shipped, but soon dwindled away: the weather was very bad, and the poor creatures rolled against each other, and slipped about in a way that it pitied you to see them. However, they were stowed so thick, that they held one another up, which proved of service to them in the heavy gales which tossed the ship about like a pea in a rattle. We had joined a large convoy, and were entering the Sound, when, as usual, it fell calm, and out came the Danish gunboats to attack us. The men-of-war who had charge of the convoy behaved nobly; but still they were becalmed, and many of us were a long way astern. Our ship was pretty well up; but she was too far in-shore; and the Danes made a dash at us with the hope of making a capture. The men-of-war, seeing what the enemy were about, sent boats to beat them off; but it was too late to prevent them boarding, which they did. Not wishing to peep through the bars of the gaol at Copenhagen, we left the ship in our boats on one side, just as the Danes boarded on the other, and pulled towards the men-of-war’s armed boats coming to our assistance. The men-of-war’s boats pulled right for the ship to retake her, which they did, certainly, but not before the enemy had set fire to the vessel, and had then pulled off towards another. Seeing this, the men-of-war’s boats again gave chase to the Danes, leaving us to extinguish the flames, which were now bursting out fore and aft, and climbing like fiery serpents up to the main catharprings. We soon found that it was impossible; we remained as long as the heat and smoke would permit us, and then we were obliged to be off, but I shall never forget the roaring and moaning of the poor animals who were then roasting alive. It was a cruel thing of the Danes to fire a vessel full of these poor creatures. Some had broken loose, and were darting up and down the decks goring others, and tumbling down the hatchways; others remained trembling, or trying to snuff up a mouthful of fresh air amongst the smoke; but the struggling and bellowing, as the fire caught the vessel fore and aft, and was grilling two hundred poor creatures at once, was at last shocking, and might have been heard for a mile. We СКАЧАТЬ