CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
As so many cocoa-nut trees had been cut down to build the house, therewere plenty of boughs lying in every direction, and William and MrSeagrave had soon procured sufficient. In a very short time the boatwas drawn up about ten yards from the water's edge, which Ready said wasquite sufficient; they then dug from under with their shovels until theboat was sunk about half down in the sand.
Having filled in the sand all round her up to her gunnel, the boat wasthen carefully covered over with the boughs, which were weighed downwith sand that they might not be blown away.
"I don't see why you should cover the boat up in this way, Ready; therain won't hurt her," observed William.
"No, sir, the rain won't do her any harm, but the sun will, when itbursts out occasionally; for it's very powerful when it does shine, andit would split her all to pieces."
"I forgot that," replied William. "What shall we do now?"
"Suppose, as we have two hours to dinner-time, you run for the lines,William, and we'll try for some fish."
"We cannot all three of us fish with only two lines," said Mr Seagrave.
"No, sir; and as William knows how to catch them, suppose you remainwith him, and I will go up and collect wood and chips for Juno's fire.She was hard pressed for it this morning, it was so wet; but, if oncepiled up, it will soon be dry. Be careful, Mr Seagrave, not to holdthe lines tight in your hands, or you may be jerked into the water."
Mr Seagrave and William were very fortunate; before the two hours wereexpired they had caught eight large fish, which they brought up to thehouse slung on the boat-hook. Tommy hallooed loudly for fish fordinner, and as they had caught so many, it was agreed that the dinnershould be put off until some could be got ready, and they were not sorryto eat them instead of salt pork.
They had hardly sat down to table, when the rain came pattering down onthe roof, and in a quarter of an hour the storm was as violent, and thethunder and lightning as terrific as on the day before. All outdoorlabour was again suspended. Mrs Seagrave, Juno, and Caroline tooktheir work, for there was plenty to do with the needle and thread, andReady soon found employment for the rest. William and Mr Seagraveunlaid some thick rope, that Ready might make smaller and more usefulrope with the yarns. Ready took up his sailing needles, and workedeyelet-holes in the canvas screens (which they had put up in a hurry),so that they might be drawn to and fro as required.
As soon as Ready had hung up the curtains, he looked under the bedsteadsfor a large bundle, and said, as he opened it, "I shall now decorateMadam Seagrave's sleeping-place. It ought to be handsomer than theothers." The bundle was composed of the ship's ensign, which was red,and a large, square, yellow flag with the name of the ship _Pacific_ inlarge black letters upon it. These two flags Ready festooned and tiedup round the bed-place, so as to give it a very gay appearance, and alsoto hide the rough walls of the cottage.
"Indeed, Ready, I am much obliged to you," said Mrs Seagrave, when hehad finished; "it is really quite grand for this place."
"It's the best use we can put them to now, madam," said Ready.
"I am afraid so," replied Mr Seagrave, thoughtfully.
"Ready," said William, after the candles were lighted, "you oncehalf-promised me that you would tell me your history; I wish you wouldtell us some of it now, as it will pass away the evening."
"Well, William, I did say so, and I shall keep my word. When you haveheard my story, you will say that I have been very foolish in my time;and so I have; but if it proves a warning to you, it will, at allevents, be of some use."
Ready then commenced his history as follows:
HISTORY OF OLD READY.
"Of course, you wish to know who my father and mother were: that is soontold. My father was the captain of a merchant vessel, which traded fromSouth Shields to Hamburg, and my poor mother, God bless her, was thedaughter of a half-pay militia captain, who died about two months aftertheir marriage. The property which the old gentleman had bequeathed tomy mother was added to that which my father had already vested in thebrig, and he then owned one-third of the vessel; the other two-thirdswere the property of a very rich ship-builder and owner, of the name ofMasterman. What with the profits of the share he held of the vessel andhis pay as captain, my father was well to do. Mr Masterman, who had avery high opinion of my father, and gained much money by his exertionsand good management, was present at the marriage, and when I was born,about a year afterwards, he stood for me as godfather. Every oneconsidered that this was a most advantageous circumstance for me, andcongratulated my father and mother; for Mr Masterman was a bachelor, ofnearly sixty years, without any near relations. It is true, that he wasvery fond of money; but that, they said, was all the better, as he couldnot take it away with him when he died. An end, however, was soon putto all their worldly ideas, for a year after I was born, my father wasdrowned at sea, his vessel and the whole of her crew being lost on theTexel sands; and my mother found herself a widow, with a child scarcelyweaned, when she was but twenty-two years of age.
"It was supposed that my mother would still have sufficient to liveupon, as the ship had been insured at two-thirds of her value; but, tothe astonishment of everybody, Mr Masterman contrived to make it appearthat it was his two-thirds of the vessel which had been insured."
"What is insurance?" inquired William.
"Insurance, my dear boy, is paying a certain sum to people who arecalled underwriters, that in case the vessel or cargo is lost ordamaged, the loss or damage is made good to the owners of the vessel orcargo. You pay in proportion to the risk incurred. Supposing youwished to insure one thousand pounds on a vessel or cargo, and ten percent was required, you would, if the vessel came home safe, pay theunderwriters one hundred pounds; if, on the contrary, the vessel waslost, the underwriters would have to pay you one thousand pounds, thesum which you had insured. I beg your pardon for the interruption,Ready."
"No need, Mr Seagrave; we never should lose an opportunity of teachingthe young. Well, how far the assertion of Mr Masterman was correct ornot, it was impossible at the time to say; but I do know that everybodycried out `shame', and that if he did deprive the widow, he had much toanswer for; for the Bible says, `Pure religion is to visit thefatherless and the widows in their affliction, and to keep yourselfunspotted in the world'. The consequence was, that my mother had littleor nothing to live upon; but she found friends who assisted her, and sheworked embroidery, and contrived to get on somehow until I was eight ornine years of age."
"But did not your godfather come forward to the assistance of yourmother?" inquired Mr Seagrave.
"No, sir, strange to say, he did not; and that made people talk themore. I believe it was the abuse of him, which he did not fail to hear,and which he ascribed to my mother, which turned him away from us;perhaps it was his own conscience, for we always dislike those we haveinjured."
"Unfortunately, there is great truth in that remark of yours, Ready,"observed Mr Seagrave; "still, it is strange that he did not dosomething."
"It was very strange, sir,--at least, so it appeared at the time, but hewas very fond of money, and irritated at the reports and observationswhich were made about him. But, to go on, sir, I was a strong, hardyboy, and, whenever I could escape from my mother or school, was alwaysfound by the water-side or on board of the vessels. In the summer-timeI was half the day in water, and was a very good swimmer. My motherperceived my fondness for the profession, and tried all she could todivert my thoughts some other way. She told me of the dangers andhardships which sailors went through, and always ended with my father'sdeath and a flood of tears.
"We certainly are of a perverse nature, as I have often heard theclergyman say, for it appears to me that we always wish to do that whichwe are told not to do. If my mother had not been always persuading meagainst going to sea, I really believe I might have stayed at home.I've often thought since, how selfish and unfeeling I must have been. Iwas too young to know what pain I was giving my mother
, and how anxietywas preying upon her, all on my account. Children cannot feel it; ifthey did, they would do otherwise, for our hearts are seldom hard untilwe grow older."
"I agree with you, Ready," said Mr Seagrave. "If children really knewhow much their parents suffer when they behave ill, how alarmed they areat any proofs of wickedness in them, they would be much better."
"We never find that out, sir, till it is too late," continued Ready."Well, sir, I was little more than nine years old, when, on a very windyday, and the water rough, a hawser, by which a vessel was fast to thewharf, was carried away with a violent jerk, and the broken part, as itflew out, struck a person who was at the edge of the wharf, and knockedhim into the sea. I heard the crying out, and the men from the wharfand from the ships were throwing ropes to him, but he could not catchhold of them; indeed, he could not swim well, and the water was rough.I caught a rope that had been hauled in again, and leapt off the wharf.
"Young as I was, I swam like a duck, and put the rope into his handsjust as he was going down. He clung to it as drowning men only cancling, and was hauled to the piles, and soon afterwards a boat, whichhad been lowered from the stern of one of the vessels, picked us bothup. We were taken to a public-house, and put into bed till dry clothescould be sent for us; and then I found that the person I had saved wasmy godfather, Mr Masterman. Everyone was loud in my praise; and,although perhaps I ought not to say it, it was a bold act for so young aboy as I was. The sailors took me home to my mother in a sort oftriumphal procession; and she, poor thing, when she heard what I haddone, embraced me over and over again, one moment rejoicing at mypreservation, and the next weeping bitterly at the thoughts of thedanger I had encountered, and the probability that my bold spirit wouldlead me into still greater."
"But she did not blame you for what you had done?"
"Oh no, William; she felt that I had done my duty towards my neighbour,and perhaps she felt in her own heart that I had returned good for evil;but she did not say so. The next day Mr Masterman called upon us; hecertainly looked very foolish and confused when he asked for his godson,whom he had so long neglected. My mother, who felt how useful he mightbe to me, received him very kindly; but I had been often told of hisneglect of me and my mother, and of his supposed unfair conduct towardsmy father, and had taken a violent dislike to him; his advances towardsme were therefore very coolly received. I felt glad that I had savedhim; but although I could not exactly understand my own feelings at thetime, I am ashamed to say that my pleasure was not derived from havingdone a good action, so much as indulging a feeling of revenge in havingput one under an obligation who had treated me ill; this arose from myproud spirit, which my mother could not check. So you see, William,there was very little merit in what I had done, as, after I had done it,I indulged those feelings which I ought to have checked."
"I think I could not have helped feeling the same, Ready, under suchcircumstances," replied William.
"The impulse which induced me to act was good," replied Ready; "but thefeeling which I indulged in afterwards took away the whole merit of thedeed. I am stating what I believe to be the truth; and an old man likeme can look upon the past without bias, but not without regret. MrMasterman made but a short visit; he told my mother that he would nowtake care of me and bring me up to the business of a ship-builder assoon as I was old enough to leave school, and that in the meantime hewould pay all my expenses. My poor mother was very grateful, and shedtears of joy; and when Mr Masterman went away, she embraced me, andsaid that now she was happy, as I should have a profession on shore andnot go to sea. I must do justice to Mr Masterman; he kept his word andsent money to my mother, so that she became quite cheerful andcomfortable, and everyone congratulated her, and she used to fondle me,and say, it was all through me that she was relieved from her distress."
"How happy that must have made you, Ready!" said William.
"Yes, it did, but it made me also very proud. Strange to say, I couldnot conquer my dislike to Mr Masterman; I had nourished the feeling toolong. I could not bear that my mother should be under obligations tohim, or that he should pay for my schooling; it hurt my foolish pride,young as I then was; and although my mother was happy, I was not.Besides, as I was put to a better school, and was obliged to remain withthe other boys, I could no longer run about the wharfs, or go on boardthe vessels, as before. I did not see then, as I do now, that it wasall for my good but I became discontented and unhappy, merely because Iwas obliged to pay attention to my learning, and could no longer have myown way. The master complained of me; and Mr Masterman called andscolded me well. I became more disobedient, and then I was punished.This irritated me, and I made up my mind that I would run away to sea.You see, William, I was all in the wrong; and so will all boys be whothink they know better than those who have charge of them; and now onlysee what I probably lost by my foolish conduct. I say _probably_, forno one can calculate or foresee what is to take place; but, as far asappearances went, I had every prospect of receiving a good education--ofsucceeding Mr Masterman in his business, and, very probably, ofinheriting his large fortune; so that I might have been at this time arich and well-educated man, surrounded with all the comforts andluxuries of life; perhaps with an amiable wife and large family roundme, to make me still happier, instead of being what I now am, a poor,worn-out old seaman upon a desert isle. I point this out to you,William, to show how one false and foolish step in the young may affecttheir whole prospects in life; and, instead of enabling them to saildown with the stream of prosperity, may leave them to struggle againstthe current of adversity, as has been the case with me."
"It is, indeed, a good lesson, Ready," said Mr Seagrave.
"It is; not that I repine at my lot, even while I regret the errors thatled to it. An all-wise and gracious God disposes of us as he thinksbest; and I can now say with perfect sincerity, `Thy will, not mine, bedone'."
"Your misfortunes have, however, proved an incalculable benefit to us,Ready," observed Mrs Seagrave; "for had you not gone to sea, and beenon board the ship when the crew deserted us, what would have become ofus?"
"Well, madam, it is some comfort to think that a worn-out old seamanlike myself has been of some use."