Courage, True Hearts: Sailing in Search of Fortune. Stables Gordon

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СКАЧАТЬ big brown pool in the woodland stream. So deep was it that they could take headers without the slightest danger of knocking a hole in the gravel bottom of the "pot". Having towelled down and dressed rapidly, they ran all the way home.

      This new and healthful plan of living soon told for good on the constitution of the London lad. His muscles grew harder and stronger, roses came on his cheeks, and he was as happy and gay as Viking himself, and that is saying a deal.

      Many a long ramble did he and little Flora now take together through the woods and wilds, for he did not care to go boating or sea-fishing with the others every day.

      Vike always accompanied the two. This certainly was not because he disliked the sea. On the contrary, he loved it. Whenever the boat came within a quarter of a mile of the beach he always sprang overboard and swam the rest of the way.

      Arrived on shore he shook gallons of water out of his coat. If you had been standing between the dog and the sun, you would have seen him enveloped in bright little rainbows, which were very pretty; but if anywhere alongside of him, then you would have required to go straight home and change your clothing, for Viking would have drenched you to the skin if not quite through it.

      But I suppose that this grand and wise Newfoundland thought the London boy and little Flo had more need of his protection.

      Ah! many and many a day and night after this, when far away at sea or wandering in wild lands, did Frank think of these delightful rambles with his little companion. Think of them, ay, and dream of them too.

      Often they were protracted till-

      … "The moonbeams were bright

      O'er river and forest, o'er mountain and lea".

      Some poet of olden times-I forget his name-tells us that "pity is akin to love". Well, Flora began by pitying this "poor little London boy", as she always called him, even to his face, but quite sympathizingly, and she ended, ere yet the summer was in its prime, by liking him very much indeed. To say that she loved him would, of course, be a phrase misapplied, for Flora was only a child.

—

      With June, and all its floral and sylvan joys, came shoals of herring from the far north, and busy indeed were the boatmen catching them.

      Glenvoie lay some distance back from a great sweep of a bay, at each end of which was a bold and rocky headland.

      Few of the herring boats really belonged to this bay, but they all used often to run in here, and after arranging their nets, they set sail for their mighty draughts of fishes.

      Duncan and Conal were always welcome, because they assisted right willingly and merrily at the work.

      The boats were very large, and all open in the centre-the well, this space was called-and with a cuddy, or small living and cooking room, both fore and aft.

      It used to be rough work, this herring fishing, and not over cleanly, but the boys always put on the oldest clothes they had, with waterproof leggings, oil-skin hats, and sou'westers.

      They would be out sometimes for two days and nights.

      The beauty of the scenery, looking towards the land at the sunset hour, it would be impossible for pen or pencil to do justice to. The smooth sea, with its patches of crimson, opal, or orange, the white sands of the bay, the dark, frowning headlands, the dark greenery of the shaggy woods and forests, and the rugged hills towering high against the eastern horizon; the whole made a picture that a Turner only could have conveyed to canvas.

      The dolphin is-from a poet's point of view-a very interesting animal, with an air of romance about him. Dolphins are said to be of a very joyous temperament. Well, perhaps; but they are, nevertheless, about the worst enemies those hardy, northern, herring-fishery men have to encounter.

      They come in shoals after the herrings, and go "slick" through the nets, carrying great pieces away on their ungainly bodies. And the boatmen can do nothing to protect their silvery harvest.

      Once, while our young heroes were on board one of the largest and best of the boats, it came on to blow off the land-not simply a gale of wind, but something near akin to a hurricane. They were driven out to sea about sundown, and Duncan and Conal could never forget the sufferings of that fearful night.

      After trying in vain to beat to windward, they put up the helm-narrowly escaping broaching-to-and ran before it.

      But all through the darkness, and until the gray and uncertain light of day broke slowly over the storm-tossed ocean, the seas were continually breaking over the sturdy boat, and everyone was drenched to the skin. It might have been said, with truth, that she was swamped, so full of water was the well.

      The great waves were now visible enough, each with its yellow sides and its foaming mane. It seemed, indeed, that the ocean was stirred up to its very bottom, and when down in the trough of the seas, with those "combers" threatening far above, with truth might it have been said that the waves were mountains high.

      All the nets were lost, but no lives.

      About noon the wind veered round to the west, and all sail was set, and the boat steered for land; but so far into the Atlantic had they been driven that it was sunrise next morning before they succeeded in reaching the bay.

      And there sad news awaited them.

      There would be mourning widows and weeping children, for two bonnie boats had perished with all their brave crews.

      Well, there is danger in every calling, but far more, I think, in that of the northern fisherman than in any other.

      But how doubly dear to him is life on shore, when he reaches his little white-washed cottage, after a successful run, and meets his smiling wife and happy children, who run to greet their daddy home from sea.

—

      Summer was already on the wane, and July nights were getting longer. Frank must soon seek once more his London home.

      But he was healthier, stronger, happier now, by far and away, than when he first arrived at Glenvoie.

      Ah! but the parting with everyone, but especially with bonnie young Flora, would be sad and sad indeed.

      One morning, about a week before Frank was to leave for the south, Duncan came into his room.

      "You and I and Conal are going up the hill to-day," he said, "all by ourselves, and I have something to propose which I feel sure you will be glad to approve of."

      "All right!" said Frank.

      So after breakfast the three boys slipped away to the hills, without telling anyone what they were after.

      A council was to be held.

      CHAPTER VII. – THE PARTING COMES AT LAST

      If Duncan M'Vayne were a mere imaginary hero, I should not take credit for any virtue that in him lay, but I don't mind telling you, reader, that very few of the heroes of my stories are altogether creations of my fairly fertile brain. Like most sailor-men who have seen a vast deal of the world, I have so much truth to tell that it would be downright foolish to fall back upon fiction for some time yet.

      And so I am not ashamed to say that Duncan was one of those rara aves-boys who think. I do not care to study the characters of boys who are not just a little bit out of the common run. Ordinary boys are as common as sand-martins in an old gravel-pit, and they are not worth writing about.

      Well СКАЧАТЬ