Exeter," answered Andrew, misunderstanding, "and I have beenthinking I would put you ashore at Teignmouth, and save you a piece ofyour journey. I might try Exmouth, but--there are ill tales of Exmouth,as I told you there were of Dartmouth," he added, with a laugh; "atDartmouth they know me, but at Exmouth--there might by chance be amistake."
Stephen thanked him heartily, saying, and truly, that the shortening ofthe road would be a great gain. They put in that night at a smallharbour formed for the convenience of coasting vessels, but though theirstart was made with the first glimmer of dawn, Jakes, who generally hadto be aroused by a rope's end or a kick, had been on shore, and cameback carrying a bag and grinning from ear to ear, so that Hugh wasforced to ask him what he had got.
"Apples," he said, still grinning; "rare fine apples. Bide a bit, andshalt have one."
Hugh, who loved apples as well as any boy with a wholesome appetiteshould do, kept an eye on Jakes and his promise without suspecting thatthere might be anything unfriendly in this sudden change of disposition.The wind had freshened, of that there could be no doubt, and thesailors were busy with the lumbering sail, when Jakes beckoned Hughforward to the bow, where was the bag.
"Put in thy hand and pull'm out, quick!" he said, running back to hiswork; and, thinking no harm, Hugh thrust in boldly, to have his fingersinstantly seized in a nip which made him feel as if by the next momentthey would be all left behind in the bag.
He cried out lustily, and dragged out his hand, to which a fineblue-black lobster was hanging, a creature at least as strange to Hughas the monkey was to Jakes. The more he shook the tighter the lobsterpinched, and when one of the sailors looked round the sail he could donothing but split his sides with laughing. Hugh, crimson with pain andfright, was dancing about, vainly trying to disengage his hand. Jakes,the next to appear, broke into uproarious merriment.
"Ha, ha, ha!" he yelled, "told him there were apples in the bag, and hewent for to steal 'em! Serve him right, serve him right! How like youyour apples, my master?"
The buffeting of the wind in the sail and the rising noise of the seahad kept much of this from Stephen, but he at last became conscious thatsomething unusual was going on, and made his way to the bows.
"Father!" cried poor Hugh, flying to him.
"Why, my little lad!" said Bassett, unable himself to avoid a smile,"what coil have you got into?"
"What is it?" demanded the boy, in a shamefaced whisper, as his fatherproceeded quietly to loosen the great claws.
"A lobster. Didst never see his like? He will be a dainty morsel forsupper, and will change his blue coat for a scarlet. There," he added,as he finished his task, "I counsel Agrippa not to let his curiosityjeopardise his tail. But how did he fasten on you?"
"It was that wicked Jakes!" cried Hugh, with flashing eyes.
"Were a stealing my apples," Jakes retorted, defiantly. "Told him therewas apples in the bag, and he put in his hand and the lobster caughtun." And clapping his unshapely hands on his knees, he roared withlaughter once more, until he bent himself double. Hugh flew at him likea tiger, but the other sailor pulled him off.
"Never heed the great lozel," he said. "It was but an apple."
"He told me--he told me to put in my hand and take one out," pantedHugh, struggling with his captor. "He's a false liar!"
"Softly, Hugh, softly," said his father gravely.
Jakes was for telling his story again with fresh detail, when themaster's voice was heard calling angrily. Stephen got Hugh back intoshelter, and Agrippa, frightened by the creaking of the mast and thestraining of ropes, clambered down to take refuge in his master's arms.Hugh's face was like a thunder-cloud. He burst out presently--
"To call me a thief!"
Stephen was silent.
"If Dickon had left me alone, I would have made him own it was a falselie. I would I were a man!"
"Why?"
"I should be strong and could fight," the boy said, surprised at thequestion.
"I often think of that time," returned Bassett thoughtfully. "I may notbe here to see it, and I would fain know--" He paused.
"What?" asked Hugh.
"Who thou wilt fight?"
"Who? Mine enemies," said Hugh, lifting his head.
"If you know them."
"I shall know them, because they will try to do me a mischief. Jakes--he is an enemy," fiercely.
"Thou hast worse than Jakes, my poor little lad," Stephen said,tenderly, "and nearer at hand. Thine own passions will truly do thee amischief, except thou keep them under. There's fighting ground forthee. And, see here, I have long meant to say something to thee aboutKing Edward, only I have an ill-trick of putting off. Thou thinkest theonly way of serving him is by hard blows. He himself would tell theethat there be better ways. Serve the State faithfully as a peacefulcitizen, keep the laws, and work for the glory of God and the honour ofEngland. He would tell thee more. That his hardest work of governmenthas been the task of governing himself. That is what has made him agreat king. It seems small to thee just now, but one day, my Hugh, mywords may come back."
A fit of coughing stopped him. Hugh's ill-temper had had a littlecooling time, but it had not by any means left him. It was not thepain, perhaps it was not even so much the being called a thief, for noone on board was like to listen much to Jakes, and as for his father hehad not even cared to allude to the absurd accusation. What Hugh reallyso much hated was the being laughed at. He had heard the men roaringwith merriment after Dickon joined them, even his father had laughed; itwould be for ever a sort of standing joke. What turned his thoughtsmore than anything was the weather. Anyone could see how much the windhad strengthened since they put out to sea. The colours, which had beenclear and distinct, now had become blurred; a wet mist, not yet rain,but near it, was driving up from the southeast; the waves had grownlarger and rushed past them in wild hurly-burly; the air was full ofnoisy tumult; the clumsy vessel groaned and laboured on her way, andStephen and Hugh could not find shelter enough to protect them from theclouds of spray which swept across the vessel.
Andrew, the master, was too closely occupied with his work to come nearthem; he shouted directions to the man who was steering, but kept by thesail, and Bassett knew enough of the sea to suspect that they were in aposition of some peril. For himself he thought it mattered little. Heknew that he was even more ill than he outwardly appeared, and thewetting under which he was shivering was likely to quicken matters. Butfor Hugh? He could resign himself, it was a far harder matter to resignthis young life, so full of vigorous promise--to give up with him allthe hopes in which he had indulged of fame to come to his name, thoughnot in his life. He had dreamt of late much of this; had pictured Hughleaping to eminence, leaving his mark as a stone-carver in somebeautiful cathedral, where age after age his work should stand, and whenmen asked who had done this great thing, the answer would be--HughBassett. Was it all to end in an unknown grave under the grey waterswhich leaped so wildly round their prey?
Every half-hour the storm seemed to increase in fury. The shores oneither side were now blotted out, and the steering was a matter of greatdifficulty. Andrew took it himself for a time, but his quick eye andsteady courage were needed for the look-out, and he went forward againuntil he gave orders to strike sail. Then he once more came back andstood near Bassett and Hugh, looking as undaunted as ever. But when hespoke they could scarce hear his voice for the turmoil of the sea.
"Rough weather, goodman!"
"Ay! Will the boat hold?"
Andrew, who had stooped down to catch the carver's words, straightenedhimself with a laugh.
"Ay, ay, the boat will hold. No fear of her failing. But where shewill carry us I would I could say so certainly. Thou wouldst fain beback in the drones' hive hearkening to book and bell, eh?"
"I am right glad to be remembered in the good brothers' prayers," saidStephen, quietly.
"Well, it may be as you say. Those I have known--I would not have givena base pollard
for the pardon-mongers' prayers; but there are falseloons in every craft."
They were silent again, for their voices were pretty well stormed down,and the sea broke so fiercely over the vessel that two or three of themen had to be constantly baling it out. Still she held her waygallantly. The shipmen of that day were not without an imperfect formof compass, in which the needle was laid upon a couple of straws in avessel of water, but these contrivances were apt to get out of gear atthe very time when they were most needed, such as a storm like that nowraging round the _Queen Maud_, and hardy sailors trusted rather to theirown skill and courage or their knowledge of the coast. Nothing was,therefore, so dangerous as fog or mist.
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