In Greek Waters: A Story of the Grecian War of Independence

  CHAPTER I

  A GREEK STUDENT

  The people of the little fishing village of Seaport were agreed on onesubject, however much they might differ on others, namely, that Mr.Beveridge was "a wonderful learned man." In this respect they wereproud of him: learned men came to visit him, and his name was widelyknown as the author of various treatises and books which were preciousto deep scholars, and were held in high respect at the universities.Most of the villagers were, however, of opinion that it would havebeen better for Seaport had Mr. Beveridge been a trifle less learnedand a good deal more practical. Naturally he would have been spoken ofas the squire, for he was the owner of the whole parish, and his housewas one of the finest in the county, which some of his ancestors hadrepresented in parliament; but for all that it would have beenridiculous to call a man squire who had never been seen on horseback,and who, as was popularly believed, could not distinguish a field ofpotatoes from one of turnips.

  It was very seldom that Mr. Beveridge ventured outside theboundary-wall of his grounds, except, indeed, when he posted up toLondon to investigate some rare manuscript, or to pore over ancientbooks in the reading-room of the British Museum. He was never seen atthe meetings of magistrates, or at social gatherings of any kind, andwhen his name was mentioned at these, many shrugged their shouldersand said what a pity it was that one of the finest properties in thecounty should be in the hands of a man who was, to say the least ofit, a little cracked.

  Mr. Beveridge's father, when on a tour in the East as a young man, hadfallen in love with and, to the intense indignation of his family,married a Greek lady. Upon coming into possession of the property, twoyears later, John Beveridge settled down with his beautiful wife atthe Hall, and lived in perfect happiness with her until her death.

  She had had but one child, a boy, the present owner of the Hall, whowas twelve years old when she died. Happy as she was with her husband,Mrs. Beveridge had never ceased to regret the sunny skies of hernative land. She seldom spoke of it to her husband, who hunted andshot, was a regular attendant at the board of magistrates, andattended personally to the management of his estate. He was a man oflittle sentiment, and had but a poor opinion of the Greeks in general.But to Herbert she often talked of the days of her childhood, andimbued him with her own passionate love of her native country. Thisled him at school to devote himself to the study of Greek with suchenergy and ardour that he came to be considered as a prodigy, andgoing up to Oxford he neglected all other branches of study, mixed butlittle with other undergraduates, made no friends, but lived the lifeof a recluse, and was rewarded by being the only first-class man ofhis year, the examiners declaring that no such papers had ever beforebeen sent in.

  Unfortunately for Herbert his father died a few months before he tookhis degree. He had neither understood nor appreciated his son'sdevotion to study, and when others congratulated him upon thereputation he was already gaining at the university, he used to shrughis shoulders and say, "What is the good of it? He has not got towork for his living. I would rather see him back a horse over afive-barred gate than write Greek like Homer." He had frequentlydeclared that directly Herbert took his degree he would go with himfirst for a few months up to London, and they would then traveltogether for a year or two so as to make him, as he said, a bit likeother people.

  Left to his own devices at the death of his father Herbert Beveridgedid not even go home after taking his degree, but, writing to thesteward to shut up the house, started a week later for Greece, wherehe remained for three years, by the end of which time he was asperfectly acquainted with modern as with ancient Greek. Then hereturned home, bringing with him two Greek attendants, turned thedrawing-room into a library, and devoted himself to his favouritestudy. Three years later he married, or rather his aunt, Mrs. Fordyce,married him. That lady, who was the wife of a neighbouring squire,came over and, as she said, took him in hand.

  "This cannot go on, Herbert," she said; "it is plainly your duty tomarry."

  "I have never thought of marrying, aunt."

  "I daresay not, Herbert, but that is no reason why you shouldn'tmarry. You don't intend, I suppose, that this place, after being inthe hands of our family for hundreds of years, is to be sold tostrangers at your death. It is clearly your duty to marry and havechildren."

  "But I don't know anyone to marry."

  "I will find you a wife, Herbert. I know half a dozen nice girls, anyone of whom would suit you. You want a thoroughly good, sensible wife,and then, perhaps, there would be some chance of your becoming likeother people."

  "I don't want to become like other people, I only want to be letalone."

  "Well, you see that is out of the question, Herbert. You shirk allyour duties as a large land-owner; but this duty, at least, you cannotshirk. Let me see, to-day is Monday; on Wednesday our gig shall beover here at half-past twelve, and you shall come over and lunch withme. I will have Miss Hendon there; she is in all respects suitable foryou. She is fairly pretty, and very bright and domesticated, withplenty of common sense. She won't have any money; for although herfather's estate is a nice one, she has four or five brothers, and Idon't suppose Mr. Hendon lays by a penny of his income. However, thatmatters very little. Now you must rouse yourself for a bit. This is animportant business, you know, and has to be done. After it is over youwill find it a great comfort, and your wife will take all sorts oflittle worries off your hand. Of course if you don't like Mary Hendonwhen you see her, I will find somebody else."

  Herbert Beveridge resigned himself quietly, and became almost passivein this matter of his own marriage. He liked Mary Hendon when he hadgot over the shyness and discomfort of the first visit, and threemonths later they were married. He then went back to his libraryagain, and his wife took the management of the estate and house intoher capable hands. During her lifetime Herbert Beveridge emerged to acertain extent from his shell. He became really fond of her, andoccasionally accompanied her on her drives, went sometimes intosociety, and was generally considered to be improving fast.

  Ten years after marriage she died, and her husband fell back into hisold ways. His life, however, was no longer quite solitary, for she hadleft him a boy eight years of age. He had been christened Horace,which was a sort of compromise. Mr. Beveridge had wished that heshould have the name of some Greek worthy--his favourites being eitherThemistocles or Aristides. His mother had called in Mrs. Fordyce toher assistance, and the two ladies together had succeeded in carryingtheir point. Mrs. Fordyce had urged that it would be a misfortune forthe boy to bear either of these names.

  "He will have to go to school, Herbert, of course, and the boys wouldmake his life a burden to him if he had either of the names youmention. I know what boys are; we have plenty of them in our family.If he were Aristides he would get the nickname of Tidy, which would behideous. The other name is worse still; they would probably shorten itinto Cockles, and I am sure you would not want the boy to be spoken ofas Cockles Beveridge."

  "I hate common names," Mr. Beveridge said, "such as Jack, Bob, andBill."

  "Well, I think they are quite good enough for ordinary life, Herbert,but if you must have something classical why not take the name ofHorace? One of Mary's brothers is Horace, you know, and he would nodoubt take it as a compliment if you gave the boy that name."

  And so it was fixed for Horace. As soon as the child was old enough togo out without a nurse, Mr. Beveridge appointed one of his Greekservants to accompany him, in order that the child should pick up aknowledge of Greek; while he himself interested himself so far in himas to set aside his books and have him into the library for an hour aday, when he always talked to him in Greek. Thus at his mother's deaththe boy was able to talk the language as fluently as English. In otherrespects he showed no signs whatever of taking after his father'stastes. He was a sturdy boy, and evinced even greater antipathy thanusual to learning the alphabet, and was never so happy as when hecould persuade Marco to take him down to the beach to play with thefisher children. At his mother's death he wa
s carried off by Mrs.Fordyce, and spent the next six months with her and in the houses ofhis mother's brothers, where there were children about his own age. Atthe end of that time a sort of family council was held, and Mrs.Fordyce went over to Seaport to see her nephew.

  "What were you thinking about doing with the boy, Herbert?"

  "The boy?" he asked vaguely, being engaged on a paper throwing newlight on the Greek particles when she entered.

  "Naturally, Herbert, the boy, your boy; it is high time he went toschool."

  "I was thinking the other day about getting a tutor for him."

  "Getting fiddlesticks!" Mrs. Fordyce said sharply; "the boy wantscompanionship. What do you suppose he would become, moping about thisbig house alone? He wants to play, if he is ever to grow up an activehealthy man. No harm has been done yet, for dear Mary kept the housebright, and had the sense to let him pass most of his time in the openair, and not to want him always at her apron-string. If when he getsto the age of twenty he develops a taste for Greek--which Heavenforbid!--or for Chinese, or for any other heathen and out-of-the-waystudy, it will be quite time enough for him to take it up. TheBeveridges have always been men of action. It is all very well,Herbert, to have one great scholar in the family; we all admit that itis a great credit to us; but two of them would ruin it. Happily Ibelieve there is no record of a great scholar producing an equallygreat son. At any rate I do hope the boy will have a fair chance ofgrowing into an active energetic man, and taking his place in thecounty."

  "I have no wish it should be otherwise, aunt," Herbert Beveridge said."I quite acknowledge that in some respects it would be better if I hadnot devoted myself so entirely to study, though my work has not beenwithout fruit, I hope, for it is acknowledged that my book on the useof the digamma threw an entirely new light upon the subject. Still Icannot expect, nor do I wish, that Horace should follow in myfootsteps. Indeed, I trust, that when I have finished my work, therewill be little for a fresh labourer to glean in that direction. At anyrate he is far too young to develop a bent in any direction whatever,and I think therefore that your proposal is a good one."

  "Then in that case, Herbert, I think you cannot do better than sendhim with Horace Hendon's two boys to school. One is about his own ageand one is a little older. The elder boy has been there a year, andhis father is well satisfied with the school."

  "Very well, aunt. If you will ask Horace to make arrangements for theboy to go with his sons I am quite content it should be so."

  So Horace Beveridge went, a week later, by coach with his cousins to aschool at Exeter, some forty miles from Seaport, and there remaineduntil he was fourteen. He passed his holidays at home, never seeinghis father until dinnertime, after which he spent two hours with him,a period of the day to which the boy always looked forward with somedread. Sometimes his father would chat cheerfully to him, always inmodern Greek; at others he would sit silent and abstracted, waking upoccasionally and making some abrupt remark to the boy, and then againlapsing into silence. When about the house and grounds Marco was hisconstant companion. The Greek, who was a mere lad when he had come toEngland, was fond of Horace, and having been a fisherman as a boy, heenjoyed almost as much as his charge did the boating and fishingexpeditions upon which he accompanied him.

  At this time Horace had a strong desire to go to sea, but even hisAunt Fordyce, when he broached the subject to her, would give him nohope or encouragement.

  "If it had been ten years ago, Horace, it would have been anothermatter. The sea was a stirring life, then; and even had you only goneinto the navy for a few years you would have seen lots of service, andmight have distinguished yourself. As to staying in it, it would havebeen ridiculous for you as an only son. But now nothing could be morewretched than the position of a naval officer. All the world is atpeace, and there does not appear to be the slightest chance of waranywhere for many years. Hundreds and hundreds of ships have been paidoff and laid up, and there are thousands of officers on half-pay, andwithout the smallest chance of ever getting employment again. Youhave arrived too late in the world for sailoring. Besides, I do notthink in any case your father would consent to such a thing. I amhappy to say that I do not think he has any idea, or even desire, thatyou should turn out a famous scholar as he is. But to a man like himit would seem terrible that your education should cease altogether atthe age at which boys go into the navy, and that you should grow upknowing nothing of what he considers the essentials of a gentleman'seducation. No, no, Horace, the sea is out of the question. You must goup to Eton, as arranged, at the end of these holidays, and from Etonyou must go through one of the universities. After that you can wanderabout for a bit and see the world, and you will see as much of it insix months that way as in twice as many years were you in the navy inthese times of peace."

  Horace looked a little downcast.

  "There is another thing, Horace," his aunt said; "it would not be fairfor you to go into the navy, even if there was nothing else againstit."

  "How is that, aunt?"

  "Well, Horace, when there are hundreds of officers on half-pay, whocan scarcely keep life together on the few pounds a year they get, itwould be hard indeed for young fellows with money and influence tostep into the places and keep them out."

  "Yes, aunt, I did not think of that," Horace said, brightening up. "Itcertainly would be a beastly shame for a fellow who can do anythingwith himself to take the place of a man who can do nothing else."

  "Besides, Horace," his aunt went on, "if you like the sea so much asyou do now when you have done with college, there is no reason why youshould not get your father to let you either hire or buy a yacht andgo where you like in her, instead of travelling about by land."

  "That would be very jolly!" Horace exclaimed. "Yes, that would bereally better than going to sea, because one could go where oneliked."

  And so at the end of the holidays Horace went up to Eton. On hisreturn home in the summer his father said: "Your aunt was over herethe other day, Horace, and she was telling me about that foolish ideayou have of going to sea. I was glad to hear that you gave it up atonce when she pointed out to you the absurdity of it. Her opinion isthat as you are so fond of the water, and as Marco can manage a boatwell, it would be a good thing for you to have one of your own,instead of going out always with the fishermen; the idea seemed to mea good one, so I got her to write to some one she knows at Exmouth,and he has spoken to the revenue officer there. They have beenbothering me about what size it should be, and as I could not tellthem whether it should be ten feet long or fifty, I said the mattermust remain till you came home, and then Marco could go over with youto Exmouth and see the officer."

  "Oh, thank you very much, father!"

  "It is only right that you should be indulged in a matter like this,Horace. I know that you don't care about riding alone, and I am sorryI can't be more of a companion to you, but I have always my hands fullof important work, and I know that for a boy of your age it must bevery dull here. Choose any boat you like. I have been talking toMarco, and he says that she can be hauled up on the beach and liethere perfectly safe when you are away. Of course if necessary he canhave a young fellow or two from the village to help while you are athome. He seems to think that in that way you could have a boat of morecomfortable size. I don't know anything about it, so I have left thematter entirely to him and you. The difference of cost between a smallboat and a large one is of no consequence one way or the other."

  Accordingly, the next morning Marco and Horace started directly afterbreakfast in the carriage to catch the coach, which passed along themain road four miles from Seaport, and arrived at Exmouth at two. Theyhad no difficulty in finding the house of Captain Martyn, whose titlewas an honorary one, he being a lieutenant of many years' service.

  "Is Captain Martyn in?" Horace asked the servant who opened the door.

  "No, sir; he is away in the cutter." Horace stood aghast. It had neverstruck him that the officer might not be at home.

  "His son is in, Mr. Wi
lliam Martyn, if that will do," the servantsaid, seeing the boy's look of dismay.

  "I don't know," he said; "but at any rate I should like to see him."

  "I will tell him, sir, if you will stay here."

  A minute later a tall powerfully-built young fellow of two orthree-and-twenty came to the door.

  "Well, youngster, what is it?" he asked.

  "I have come about buying a boat, sir. My name is Beveridge. I believeCaptain Martyn was kind enough to say that he would look out for aboat for us."

  "Oh, yes, I have heard about it; but whether it was a dinghy or aman-of-war that was wanted we couldn't find out. Do you intend tomanage her single-handed?"

  "Oh, no, sir! I have done a lot of sailing with the fishermen atSeaport, but I could not manage a boat by myself, not if there was anywind. But Marco was a sailor among the Greek isles before he enteredmy father's service."

  "Want a comfortable craft," the Greek, who had learned to speak acertain amount of English, said. "Can have two or three hands."

  "Oh, you want a regular cruiser! Well, you are a lucky young chap, Imust say. The idea of a young cub like you having a boat with two orthree hands to knock about in! Do you want a captain, because I am tolet?"

  "No, sir, we don't want a captain, and we don't want a great bigcraft. Something about the size of a fishing-boat, I should say. Areyou a sailor?"

  "Yes, worse luck, I am a master's mate, if you know what that is. Itmeans a passed midshipman. I have been a master's mate for four years,and am likely to be one all my life, for I have no more chance ofgetting a berth than I have of being appointed a post-captainto-morrow. Well, I will put on my cap and go with you. I have beenlooking about since my father heard about a boat being wanted. Theletter said nothing about your age, or what size of boat was wanted;it gave in fact no useful information whatever. It was about as muchto the point as if they had said you wanted to have a house and didnot say whether it was a two-roomed cottage or a country mansion. ButI think I know of a little craft that would about suit you. Does yourfather sail himself?"

  "WELL, YOUNGSTER, WHAT IS IT?"]

  Horace could not help smiling at the idea. "No," he said. "My fathercares for nothing but studying Greek. I am at Eton, but it is veryslow in the holidays, and as I generally go out with the fishermen thebest part of the time I am at home, he thought it would be a goodthing for me to have a boat of my own."

  William Martyn looked quietly down at the lad, then went in and gothis cap, rejoined them, and sauntered down towards the river. He ledthe way along the wharfs, passed above the town, and then pointed to aboat lying on the mud.

  "That is the craft I should choose if I were in your place," he said."She is as sound as a bell, and I wouldn't mind crossing the Bay ofBiscay in her."

  "But she is very large," Horace said, looking at her with some doubtin his face.

  "She is about fifteen tons burthen," he said, "built of oak, and isonly eight years old, though she looks battered about and rusty as shelies there. She was built from his own designs by Captain Burrows, asgood a sailor as ever stepped. She is forty feet long and fifteen feetbeam. She is fast, and a splendid sea-boat, with four foot draft ofwater. He died three years after he built her, and she has been lyingthere ever since. Her gear has been all stowed away in a dry place,and the old sailor in charge of it says it is in perfect order. Theold captain used to knock about on board of her with only a man and aboy, and she is as easy to handle as a cock-boat. I was out in hermore than once when I was at home on leave, and she is a beauty. Ofcourse you can't judge of her as she lies there; but she haswonderfully easy lines, and sits the water like a duck. She is adandy, you see; that is, she carries a small mizzen mast. She wasrigged so because a craft like that is a good deal easier to workshort-handed than a cutter."

  She seemed as she lay there so much larger than anything Horace hadhad the idea of possessing that he looked doubtfully at Marco.

  "I think she will do," the Greek said; "just the sort of boat for us.See her when tide comes up, and can go on board. How much cost?"

  "They only want eighty pounds for her," William Martyn said. "Theyasked a hundred and fifty at first; but everything is so dull, andthere have been such a lot of small craft sold off from the dockyards,that she has not found a purchaser. If I had two or three hundred ayear of my own there is nothing I should like better than to own thatcraft and knock about in her. Her only fault is she wants head-room.There is only five foot under her beams, for she has a low freeboard.That prevents her from being sold as a yacht. But as one does not wantto walk about much below I don't see that that matters. She has got aroomy cabin and a nice little stateroom for the owner, and a fo'castlebig enough for six hands."

  "It would be splendid," Horace said. "But do you think, Marco, myfather meant me to have such a large boat as this?"

  The Greek nodded. "Master said buy a good big safe boat. No usegetting a little thing Mr. Horace tire of in a year or two. Can alwaysget a man or two in the holidays. I think that is just the boat."

  "Tide has nearly reached her," William Martyn said. "We shall be ableto get off to her in an hour. We will go and overhaul the gear now. Iwill get the key of the cabins."

  It took them a good hour to get out the sails and inspect them, andexamine the ropes and gear. All were pronounced in good order.

  "The sails are as good for all practical purposes as the day they wereturned out," Martyn said. "They may not be quite as white as thefresh-water sailors about here think necessary for their pleasurecraft, but they are sound and strong, and were well scrubbed beforethey were put away. And you may be sure Burrows used none but the bestrope money could buy. Now we will go on board. She will look adifferent craft when her decks are holy-stoned, and she gets two orthree coats of paint," the young officer went on as they stepped onboard. "A landsman can never judge of a boat when she is dismantled,and he can't judge much at any time. He thinks more of paint andpolish than he does of a ship's lines."

  But Horace had seen enough of boats to be able to appreciate to someextent the easy lines of her bow and her fine run, and the Greek wasdelighted with her. Below she was in good order, except that shewanted a coat of paint. The cabins were of course entirely dismantled,but Horace was surprised at their roominess, accustomed as he was tothe close little fo'castles of the fishing-boats.

  "She was fitted up in a regular man-of-war fashion," Martyn said."This was just a captain's cabin on board a frigate, but on a smallscale, and so was the state-room. We did not see the furniture, but itis all upstairs in an attic of the cottage we went to."

  "How long would it take to get her ready?" Horace asked.

  "About ten days. Most of her ballast is out of her, but the rest oughtto come out so as to give her a regular clean down, and a coat ofwhitewash below, before it is all put in again. If you like, young'un, I will look after that. I have got nothing to do, and it will bean amusement to me. I am looking for a berth at present in amerchantman, but there are such a number of men out of harness that itisn't easy to get a job. Look here, if you really want to learn someday to be fit to take charge of this craft yourself, you could not dobetter than persuade your father to let you come over here and see herfitted up, then you will know where every rope goes, and learn morethan you would sitting about on deck in the course of a year. Therewill be no difficulty in getting a couple of rooms ready for you andyour man in the town."

  "Can we get home to-night, sir?"

  "Yes, the coach goes through here at six o'clock."

  "My father will write to-morrow, at least I expect he will," Horacesaid. "It isn't very easy to get him to do things, but I expect Ishall manage."

  "He will write," Marco said confidently; and as the boy knew that theGreek had far more opportunities of getting at his father than he had,he felt sure that he would manage it.

  "We are very much obliged to you, Mr. Martyn," he said.

  "All right, young sir. If your father decides to take the boat get himto write to me; or if he
is bad at writing, write to me yourself aftersettling it with him, and I will put on men and see that she is readyfor sea in a fortnight."

  "Do you feel sure father will let me have the boat, Marco?" Horacesaid as soon as they were alone.

  "It is done," the Greek said with a wave of his hand. "He said to me,'Go and buy a proper boat, see that everything is right about it, butdon't worry me.' So when I say, 'I have bought the boat; it is justthe thing we want; it will cost a hundred pounds by the time it isready for sea,' he will say he is glad to hear it, and there will bean end of it. Mr. Beveridge never troubles."

  "And will you tell him that it would be a good thing for me to go overand see her fitted up?"

  "I will tell him. He will be glad to know that you have got somethingto do."

  It was half-past ten o'clock when they got home. The other Greekopened the door.

  "Is the master in bed yet, Zaimes?"

  "He went upstairs ten minutes ago. I think he had forgotten all aboutHorace not being at home. He did not mention his name to me."

  "What a nuisance!" Horace said. "Now I shall have to wait tillmorning before I know about it, and I am so anxious to hear what hesays."

  "It will be all the pleasanter when you hear," Zaimes said quietly.

  The two men were brothers, Zaimes being ten years senior. He was Mr.Beveridge's valet, his brother being a sort of general assistant,waiting at meals except when Horace was at home, when he wasconsidered specially told off to him. They lived apart from the otherservants, having a room of their own where they cooked their meals intheir own fashion. Both were extremely attached to their master, andwould have given their lives for him.

  "Marco will tell me all about it, and I will talk to the master whileI am dressing him. You are making Marco again a boy like yourself,Horace. He is as eager about this boat as you are"; and he smiledindulgently at his brother, whom he still regarded as a boy, althoughhe was now nearly forty.

  "That will be the best plan, Zaimes. I shall be glad for him to knowall about it before breakfast time, for I am sure I should not like totell him that we had fixed on a boat like that."

  Horace was a long time before he got to sleep. He had never dreamt ofanything bigger than an open boat, and the thought of having a craftthat he could sail anywhere along the coast, and even sleep on board,seemed almost too good to be true. He woke an hour before his time,dressed hastily, went out into the garden, and stood there lookingover the sea. The fishing-boats were going out, and he pictured tohimself the boat he had seen, gliding along among them, bigger andever so much handsomer than any of them; and how he would be able totake out his cousins, and perhaps some day have a school friend tospend the holidays with him and cruise about. So deep was he in histhoughts that he was surprised when he heard the bell ring forbreakfast.

  "Now, then," he said to himself as he walked back to the house, "Ishall know. Of course it will be a horrible disappointment if he saysno, but I sha'n't show it, because it is too much to expect him to dothis. I should never have dreamt of such a thing if it had not beenfor Marco. Well, here goes"; and he walked into the parlour.

  "Good morning, father!"

  "Good morning, Horace. I am glad to hear that Marco has found just theboat that he thinks will suit the place. He tells me you want to goover and see her fitted out. I think that that will be a very goodplan. When you do a thing, Horace, do it well if it is worth doing atall. Marco will go back with you by the coach this morning."

  "Oh, thank you, father; it is awfully kind of you!"

  "I wish you to enjoy yourself," his father said; "it is no more thanthe price of another horse. It is a fine sport and a healthy one, andI don't know that it is more dangerous than galloping about thecountry on horseback. I have told Marco to make all arrangements, andnot to worry me about things. At the beginning of each holiday he willsay how much he will require for provisions on board, and the paymentof the wages of a man and a boy. I shall give him a cheque, and therewill be an end of it as far as I am concerned. I shall be much more atmy ease knowing that you are enjoying yourself on board than wonderingwhat you will do to amuse yourself from day to day."

  Thinking that all that was necessary had been said, Mr. Beveridge thenopened a Greek book that lay as usual beside his plate, and speedilybecame absorbed in it. When he himself had finished, Horace slippedaway. He knew that his father would be at least two hours over themeal, which he only turned to when Zaimes made a movement to attracthis attention, everything being kept down by the fire, which was litspecially for that purpose, even in summer.

  "It is all settled, Marco; think of that! Won't it be glorious?"

  "It will be very good, Horace. I shall like it almost as much as youwill. I love the sea, even this gray ugly sea of yours, which is sodifferent from the blue of the AEgean. I too mope a little sometimeswhen you are not at home, for though I have the kindest and best ofmasters, one longs sometimes for change. I told you your father wouldagree. It is just what I told him we should want. An open boat is nouse except when the weather is fine, and then one must always keepclose to port in case the wind should drop, and when it comes calm youhave to break your back with rowing. Oh, we will have fine sailstogether, and as you grow older we can go farther away, for she shouldbe safe anywhere. When you become a man I daresay he will get for yousomething bigger, and then perhaps we can sail together to Greece, andperhaps the master will go with you, for he loves Greece as much as wedo."

  There was a fortnight of hard work. William Martyn was in command, andkept Horace at work as if he had been a young midshipman under hisorders; while Marco turned his hand to everything, singing snatches ofsailor songs he had sung as he fished when a boy, chattering in Greekto Horace, and in broken English to the two men.

  "You are going to be skipper, I hear," William Martyn said to him oneday.

  "Going to skip!" Marco repeated vaguely. "I know not what you mean."

  "Going to be captain--padrone."

  Marco shook his head. "No, sir. Can sail open boat good, but not fitto take charge of boat like this. Going to have man at Seaport, a goodfisherman. He sailed a long time in big ships. Man-of-war's man. Whenwar over, came back to fish. I shall look after young master, cookfood for him, pull at rope, steer sometimes; but other man be captainand sail boat."

  William Martyn nodded. "Quite right, Marco; these fishermen know thecoast, and the weather, and the ports and creeks to run into. It isall very well in fine weather, but when you get a blow, a craft likethis wants a man who can handle her well."

  Horace's pride in the craft increased every day. As she layweather-beaten and dismantled on the mud she had seemed to him largerbut not superior in appearance to the fishing craft of Seaport, whichwere most of them boats of ten or twelve tons; but each day herappearance changed, and at the end of ten days--with all her riggingin place, her masts and spars scraped, her deck fairly white, and hersides glossy with black paint--she seemed to him a thing of perfectbeauty. It was just the fortnight when the paint and varnish of thecabins were dry, the furniture in its place, and everything ready forsea. Horace's delight culminated when the anchor was got up, sail seton her, and William Martyn took the helm, as with a light wind she randown through the craft in the harbour for a trial trip.

  "She is a wonderfully handy little craft," the mate said approvingly,as she began to rise and fall on the swell outside; "the old captainknew what he was doing when he laid down her lines. She is like a duckon the water. I have been out in her when big ships were putting theirnoses into it, and she never shipped a pailful of water. I can tellyou you are in luck, youngster. How are you going to take her round?"

  "I was going to write to-night for Tom Burdett--that is the man Marcospoke about--to come over by coach."

  "I will tell you what I will do, youngster; I will take her over foryou. I shall enjoy the trip. If you like we will start to-morrowmorning."

  "I should like that immensely," Horace said; "we shall astonish themwhen we sail into the port."

/>   "Very well, then, that is agreed; you had better get some stores onboard; I mean provisions. Of course if the weather holds like this weshould be there in the evening; but it is a good rule at sea never totrust the weather. Always have enough grub and water for a week onboard; then, if you happen to be blown off shore, or anything of thatsort, it is of no consequence."