CHAPTER IX
THE SPECKSIONEER
A few days after, Farmer Robson left Haytersbank betimes on alongish day's journey, to purchase a horse. Sylvia and her motherwere busied with a hundred household things, and the early winter'sevening closed in upon them almost before they were aware. Theconsequences of darkness in the country even now are to gather themembers of a family together into one room, and to make them settleto some sedentary employment; and it was much more the case at theperiod of my story, when candles were far dearer than they are atpresent, and when one was often made to suffice for a large family.
The mother and daughter hardly spoke at all when they sat down atlast. The cheerful click of the knitting-needles made a pleasanthome-sound; and in the occasional snatches of slumber that overcameher mother, Sylvia could hear the long-rushing boom of the waves,down below the rocks, for the Haytersbank gulley allowed the sullenroar to come up so far inland. It might have been about eighto'clock--though from the monotonous course of the evening it seemedmuch later--when Sylvia heard her father's heavy step cranching downthe pebbly path. More unusual, she heard his voice talking to somecompanion.
Curious to see who it could be, with a lively instinctive advancetowards any event which might break the monotony she had begun tofind somewhat dull, she sprang up to open the door. Half a glanceinto the gray darkness outside made her suddenly timid, and she drewback behind the door as she opened it wide to admit her father andKinraid.
Daniel Robson came in bright and boisterous. He was pleased with hispurchase, and had had some drink to celebrate his bargain. He hadridden the new mare into Monkshaven, and left her at the smithythere until morning, to have her feet looked at, and to be new shod.On his way from the town he had met Kinraid wandering about insearch of Haytersbank Farm itself, so he had just brought him alongwith him; and here they were, ready for bread and cheese, and aughtelse the mistress would set before them.
To Sylvia the sudden change into brightness and bustle occasioned bythe entrance of her father and the specksioneer was like that whichyou may effect any winter's night, when you come into a room where agreat lump of coal lies hot and slumbering on the fire; just breakit up with a judicious blow from the poker, and the room, late sodark, and dusk, and lone, is full of life, and light, and warmth.
She moved about with pretty household briskness, attending to allher father's wants. Kinraid's eye watched her as she went backwardsand forwards, to and fro, into the pantry, the back-kitchen, out oflight into shade, out of the shadow into the broad firelight wherehe could see and note her appearance. She wore the high-crownedlinen cap of that day, surmounting her lovely masses of golden brownhair, rather than concealing them, and tied firm to her head by abroad blue ribbon. A long curl hung down on each side of her neck--herthroat rather, for her neck was concealed by a little spottedhandkerchief carefully pinned across at the waist of her brown stuffgown.
How well it was, thought the young girl, that she had doffed herbed-gown and linsey-woolsey petticoat, her working-dress, and madeherself smart in her stuff gown, when she sate down to work with hermother.
By the time she could sit down again, her father and Kinraid hadtheir glasses filled, and were talking of the relative merits ofvarious kinds of spirits; that led on to tales of smuggling, and thedifferent contrivances by which they or their friends had eluded thepreventive service; the nightly relays of men to carry the goodsinland; the kegs of brandy found by certain farmers whose horses hadgone so far in the night, that they could do no work the next day;the clever way in which certain women managed to bring in prohibitedgoods; in fact, that when a woman did give her mind to smuggling,she was more full of resources, and tricks, and impudence, andenergy than any man. There was no question of the morality of theaffair; one of the greatest signs of the real progress we have madesince those times seems to be that our daily concerns of buying andselling, eating and drinking, whatsoever we do, are more tested bythe real practical standard of our religion than they were in thedays of our grandfathers. Neither Sylvia nor her mother was inadvance of their age. Both listened with admiration to the ingeniousdevices, and acted as well as spoken lies, that were talked about asfine and spirited things. Yet if Sylvia had attempted one tithe ofthis deceit in her every-day life, it would have half broken hermother's heart. But when the duty on salt was strictly and cruellyenforced, making it penal to pick up rough dirty lumps containingsmall quantities that might be thrown out with the ashes of thebrine-houses on the high-roads; when the price of this necessary wasso increased by the tax upon it as to make it an expensive,sometimes an unattainable, luxury to the working man, Government didmore to demoralise the popular sense of rectitude and uprightnessthan heaps of sermons could undo. And the same, though in smallermeasure, was the consequence of many other taxes. It may seemcurious to trace up the popular standard of truth to taxation; but Ido not think the idea would be so very far-fetched.
From smuggling adventures it was easy to pass on to stories of whathad happened to Robson, in his youth a sailor in the Greenland seas,and to Kinraid, now one of the best harpooners in any whaler thatsailed off the coast.
'There's three things to be afeared on,' said Robson,authoritatively: 'there's t' ice, that's bad; there's dirty weather,that's worse; and there's whales theirselves, as is t' worst of all;leastways, they was i' my days; t' darned brutes may ha' larntbetter manners sin'. When I were young, they could niver be got tolet theirsels be harpooned wi'out flounderin' and makin' play wi'their tales and their fins, till t' say were all in a foam, and t'boats' crews was all o'er wi' spray, which i' them latitudes is akind o' shower-bath not needed.'
'Th' whales hasn't mended their manners, as you call it,' saidKinraid; 'but th' ice is not to be spoken lightly on. I were once inth' ship _John_ of Hull, and we were in good green water, and werekeen after whales; and ne'er thought harm of a great gray iceberg aswere on our lee-bow, a mile or so off; it looked as if it had beenthere from the days of Adam, and were likely to see th' last manout, and it ne'er a bit bigger nor smaller in all them thousands andthousands o' years. Well, the fast-boats were out after a fish, andI were specksioneer in one; and we were so keen after capturing ourwhale, that none on us ever saw that we were drifting away from themright into deep shadow o' th' iceberg. But we were set upon ourwhale, and I harpooned it; and as soon as it were dead we lashed itsfins together, and fastened its tail to our boat; and then we tookbreath and looked about us, and away from us a little space were th'other boats, wi' two other fish making play, and as likely as not tobreak loose, for I may say as I were th' best harpooner on board the_John_, wi'out saying great things o' mysel'. So I says, "My lads,one o' you stay i' th' boat by this fish,"--the fins o' which, as Isaid, I'd reeved a rope through mysel', and which was as dead asNoah's grandfather--"and th' rest on us shall go off and help th'other boats wi' their fish." For, you see, we had another boat closeby in order to sweep th' fish. (I suppose they swept fish i' yourtime, master?)'
'Ay, ay!' said Robson; 'one boat lies still holding t' end o' t'line; t' other makes a circuit round t' fish.'
'Well! luckily for us we had our second boat, for we all got intoit, ne'er a man on us was left i' th' fast-boat. And says I, "Butwho's to stay by t' dead fish?" And no man answered, for they wereall as keen as me for to go and help our mates; and we thought as wecould come back to our dead fish, as had a boat for a buoy, once wehad helped our mates. So off we rowed, every man Jack on us, out o'the black shadow o' th' iceberg, as looked as steady as th'pole-star. Well! we had na' been a dozen fathoms away fra' th' boatas we had left, when crash! down wi' a roaring noise, and then agulp of the deep waters, and then a shower o' blinding spray; andwhen we had wiped our eyes clear, and getten our hearts down agenfra' our mouths, there were never a boat nor a glittering belly o'e'er a great whale to be seen; but th' iceberg were there, still andgrim, as if a hundred ton or more had fallen off all in a mass, andcrushed down boat, and fish, and all, into th' deep water, as goeshalf through the earth in them l
atitudes. Th' coal-miners roundabout Newcastle way may come upon our good boat if they mine deepenough, else ne'er another man will see her. And I left as good aclasp-knife in her as ever I clapt eyes on.'
'But what a mercy no man stayed in her,' said Bell.
'Why, mistress, I reckon we a' must die some way; and I'd as soon godown into the deep waters as be choked up wi' moulds.'
'But it must be so cold,' said Sylvia, shuddering and giving alittle poke to the fire to warm her fancy.
'Cold!' said her father, 'what do ye stay-at-homes know about cold,a should like to know? If yo'd been where a were once, northlatitude 81, in such a frost as ye ha' niver known, no, not i' deepwinter, and it were June i' them seas, and a whale i' sight, and awere off in a boat after her: an' t' ill-mannered brute, as soon asshe were harpooned, ups wi' her big awkward tail, and struck t' boati' her stern, and chucks me out into t' watter. That were cold, acan tell the'! First, I smarted all ower me, as if my skin weresuddenly stript off me: and next, ivery bone i' my body had gettent' toothache, and there were a great roar i' my ears, an' a greatdizziness i' my eyes; an' t' boat's crew kept throwin' out theiroars, an' a kept clutchin' at 'em, but a could na' make out wherethey was, my eyes dazzled so wi' t' cold, an' I thought I were boundfor "kingdom come," an' a tried to remember t' Creed, as a might diea Christian. But all a could think on was, "What is your name, M orN?" an' just as a were giving up both words and life, they heaved meaboard. But, bless ye, they had but one oar; for they'd thrown a' t'others after me; so yo' may reckon, it were some time afore we couldreach t' ship; an' a've heerd tell, a were a precious sight to lookon, for my clothes was just hard frozen to me, an' my hair a'most asbig a lump o' ice as yon iceberg he was a-telling us on; they rubbedme as missus theere were rubbing t' hams yesterday, and gav' mebrandy; an' a've niver getten t' frost out o' my bones for a' theirrubbin', and a deal o' brandy as I 'ave ta'en sin'. Talk o' cold!it's little yo' women known o' cold!'
'But there's heat, too, i' some places,' said Kinraid. I was once avoyage i' an American. They goes for th' most part south, to whereyou come round to t' cold again; and they'll stay there for threeyear at a time, if need be, going into winter harbour i' some o' th'Pacific Islands. Well, we were i' th' southern seas, a-seeking forgood whaling-ground; and, close on our larboard beam, there were agreat wall o' ice, as much as sixty feet high. And says ourcaptain--as were a dare-devil, if ever a man were--"There'll be anopening in yon dark gray wall, and into that opening I'll sail, if Icoast along it till th' day o' judgment." But, for all our sailing,we never seemed to come nearer to th' opening. The waters wererocking beneath us, and the sky were steady above us; and th' icerose out o' the waters, and seemed to reach up into the sky. Wesailed on, and we sailed on, for more days nor I could count. Ourcaptain were a strange, wild man, but once he looked a little palewhen he came upo' deck after his turn-in, and saw the green-gray icegoing straight up on our beam. Many on us thought as the ship werebewitched for th' captain's words; and we got to speak low, and tosay our prayers o' nights, and a kind o' dull silence came into th'very air; our voices did na' rightly seem our own. And we sailed on,and we sailed on. All at once, th' man as were on watch gave a cry:he saw a break in the ice, as we'd begun to think were everlasting;and we all gathered towards the bows, and the captain called to th'man at the helm to keep her course, and cocked his head, and beganto walk the quarter-deck jaunty again. And we came to a great cleftin th' long weary rock of ice; and the sides o' th' cleft were notjagged, but went straight sharp down into th' foaming waters. But wetook but one look at what lay inside, for our captain, with a loudcry to God, bade the helmsman steer nor'ards away fra' th' mouth o'Hell. We all saw wi' our own eyes, inside that fearsome wall o'ice--seventy miles long, as we could swear to--inside that gray,cold ice, came leaping flames, all red and yellow wi' heat o' someunearthly kind out o' th' very waters o' the sea; making our eyesdazzle wi' their scarlet blaze, that shot up as high, nay, higherthan th' ice around, yet never so much as a shred on 't was melted.They did say that some beside our captain saw the black devils darthither and thither, quicker than the very flames themselves; anyhow,he saw them. And as he knew it were his own daring as had led him tohave that peep at terrors forbidden to any on us afore our time, hejust dwined away, and we hadn't taken but one whale afore ourcaptain died, and first mate took th' command. It were a prosperousvoyage; but, for all that, I'll never sail those seas again, norever take wage aboard an American again.'
'Eh, dear! but it's awful t' think o' sitting wi' a man that hasseen th' doorway into hell,' said Bell, aghast.
Sylvia had dropped her work, and sat gazing at Kinraid withfascinated wonder.
Daniel was just a little annoyed at the admiration which his ownwife and daughter were bestowing on the specksioneer's wonderfulstories, and he said--
'Ay, ay. If a'd been a talker, ye'd ha' thought a deal more on menor ye've iver done yet. A've seen such things, and done suchthings.'
'Tell us, father!' said Sylvia, greedy and breathless.
'Some on 'em is past telling,' he replied, 'an some is not to be hadfor t' asking, seeing as how they might bring a man into trouble.But, as a said, if a had a fancy to reveal all as is on my mind acould make t' hair on your heads lift up your caps--well, we'll sayan inch, at least. Thy mother, lass, has heerd one or two on 'em.Thou minds the story o' my ride on a whale's back, Bell? That'llmaybe be within this young fellow's comprehension o' t' danger;thou's heerd me tell it, hastn't ta?'
'Yes,' said Bell; 'but it's a long time ago; when we was courting.'
'An' that's afore this young lass were born, as is a'most up towoman's estate. But sin' those days a ha' been o'er busy to tellstories to my wife, an' as a'll warrant she's forgotten it; an' asSylvia here niver heerd it, if yo'll fill your glass, Kinraid, yo'shall ha' t' benefit o't.
'A were a specksioneer mysel, though, after that, a rayther directedmy talents int' t' smuggling branch o' my profession; but a wereonce a whaling aboord t' _Ainwell_ of Whitby. An' we was anchoredoff t' coast o' Greenland one season, an' we'd getten a cargo o'seven whale; but our captain he were a keen-eyed chap, an' niverabove doin' any man's work; an' once seein' a whale he throwshimself int' a boat an' goes off to it, makin' signals to me, an'another specksioneer as were off for diversion i' another boat, forto come after him sharp. Well, afore we comes alongside, captain hadharpooned t' fish; an' says he, "Now, Robson, all ready! give intoher again when she comes to t' top;" an' I stands up, right legforemost, harpoon all ready, as soon as iver I cotched a sight o' t'whale, but niver a fin could a see. 'Twere no wonder, for she wereright below t' boat in which a were; and when she wanted to rise,what does t' great ugly brute do but come wi' her head, as is likecast iron, up bang again t' bottom o' t' boat. I were thrown up int' air like a shuttlecock, me an' my line an' my harpoon--up wegoes, an' many a good piece o' timber wi' us, an' many a good fellowtoo; but a had t' look after mysel', an a were up high i' t' air,afore I could say Jack Robinson, an' a thowt a were safe for anotherdive int' saut water; but i'stead a comes down plump on t' back o't' whale. Ay! yo' may stare, master, but theere a were, an' main an'slippery it were, only a sticks my harpoon intil her an' steadiesmysel', an' looks abroad o'er t' vast o' waves, and gets sea-sick ina manner, an' puts up a prayer as she mayn't dive, and it were asgood a prayer for wishin' it might come true as iver t' clargymanan' t' clerk too puts up i' Monkshaven church. Well, a reckon itwere heerd, for all a were i' them north latitudes, for she keepssteady, an' a does my best for t' keep steady; an' 'deed a was toosteady, for a was fast wi' t' harpoon line, all knotted and tangledabout me. T' captain, he sings out for me to cut it; but it's easysingin' out, and it's noane so easy fumblin' for your knife i' t'pocket o' your drawers, when yo've t' hold hard wi' t' other hand ont' back of a whale, swimmin' fourteen knots an hour. At last athinks to mysel' a can't get free o' t' line, and t' line is fast tot' harpoon, and t' harpoon is fast to t' whale; and t' whale may godown fathoms deep wheniver t' maggot stirs i' her head; an' t'watter'
s cold, an noane good for drownin' in; a can't get free o' t'line, and a connot get my knife out o' my breeches pocket though t'captain should ca' it mutiny to disobey orders, and t' line's fastto t' harpoon--let's see if t' harpoon's fast to t' whale. So atugged, and a lugged, and t' whale didn't mistake it for ticklin',but she cocks up her tail, and throws out showers o' water as wereice or iver it touched me; but a pulls on at t' shank, an' a wereonly afeard as she wouldn't keep at t' top wi' it sticking in her;but at last t' harpoon broke, an' just i' time, for a reckon she wasnear as tired o' me as a were on her, and down she went; an' a hadhard work to make for t' boats as was near enough to catch me; forwhat wi' t' whale's being but slippery an' t' watter being cold, an'me hampered wi' t' line an' t' piece o' harpoon, it's a chance,missus, as thou had stopped an oud maid.'
'Eh dear a' me!' said Bell, 'how well I mind yo'r telling me thattale! It were twenty-four year ago come October. I thought I nevercould think enough on a man as had rode on a whale's back!'
'Yo' may learn t' way of winnin' t' women,' said Daniel, winking atthe specksioneer.
And Kinraid immediately looked at Sylvia. It was no premeditatedaction; it came as naturally as wakening in the morning when hissleep was ended; but Sylvia coloured as red as any rose at hissudden glance,--coloured so deeply that he looked away until hethought she had recovered her composure, and then he sat gazing ather again. But not for long, for Bell suddenly starting up, did allbut turn him out of the house. It was late, she said, and her masterwas tired, and they had a hard day before them next day; and it waskeeping Ellen Corney up; and they had had enough to drink,--morethan was good for them, she was sure, for they had both been takingher in with their stories, which she had been foolish enough tobelieve. No one saw the real motive of all this almost inhospitablehaste to dismiss her guest, how the sudden fear had taken possessionof her that he and Sylvia were 'fancying each other'. Kinraid hadsaid early in the evening that he had come to thank her for herkindness in sending the sausages, as he was off to his own home nearNewcastle in a day or two. But now he said, in reply to DanielRobson, that he would step in another night before long and hearsome more of the old man's yarns.
Daniel had just had enough drink to make him very good-tempered, orelse his wife would not have dared to have acted as she did; andthis maudlin amiability took the shape of hospitable urgency thatKinraid should come as often as he liked to Haytersbank; come andmake it his home when he was in these parts; stay there altogether,and so on, till Bell fairly shut the outer door to, and locked itbefore the specksioneer had well got out of the shadow of theirroof.
All night long Sylvia dreamed of burning volcanoes springing out oficy southern seas. But, as in the specksioneer's tale the flameswere peopled with demons, there was no human interest for her in thewondrous scene in which she was no actor, only a spectator. Withdaylight came wakening and little homely every-day wonders. DidKinraid mean that he was going away really and entirely, or did henot? Was he Molly Corney's sweetheart, or was he not? When she hadargued herself into certainty on one side, she suddenly wheeledabout, and was just of the opposite opinion. At length she settledthat it could not be settled until she saw Molly again; so, by astrong gulping effort, she resolutely determined to think no moreabout him, only about the marvels he had told. She might think alittle about them when she sat at night, spinning in silence by thehousehold fire, or when she went out in the gloaming to call thecattle home to be milked, and sauntered back behind the patient,slow-gaited creatures; and at times on future summer days, when, asin the past, she took her knitting out for the sake of the freshnessof the faint sea-breeze, and dropping down from ledge to ledge ofthe rocks that faced the blue ocean, established herself in aperilous nook that had been her haunt ever since her parents hadcome to Haytersbank Farm. From thence she had often seen the distantships pass to and fro, with a certain sort of lazy pleasure inwatching their swift tranquillity of motion, but no thought as towhere they were bound to, or what strange places they wouldpenetrate to before they turned again, homeward bound.