The Island of Gold: A Sailor's Yarn

thoughts of going past without calling. But ithasn't the heart to do so, and presently the barge is close alongside akind of wooden platform which is dignified by the name of wharf.

  Ransey dismounts to water his horse and slip on the nose-bag. Then,while Sammy is busy with his note-book, handing out cargo and takingfresh orders, he takes delighted Babs and Bob on shore to look at theshops. These visits to villages are much appreciated by her tinyladyship, but if the streets are steep Ransey Tansey must take her onhis back, and thus the two go on.

  No fear of the "ship" leaving without them; and why, here is fatherhimself, his hands deep in the pockets of his pilot jacket, and smoking.

  A penny to Ransey and a halfpenny to Babs secure them additionalhappiness; but in less than an hour the anchor is weighed, and the_Merry Maiden_ is once more going on.

  The wind changes, or the canal, or something; anyhow sail can now beset, and Jim thinks himself about the happiest horse in all creation.

  On and on through the quiet country, by the most silent of allthoroughfares, goes the barge. Babs is getting drowsy; father makes hera bed with a bundle of sacks, shading her face from the sun; and soonshe is in the land of forgetfulness.

  Were it not for the breeze that blows freshly over the meadows, the daywould be a warm and drowsy one. No fear of Sammy falling asleep,however, for as the canal winds in and out he has to tighten or loosenthe sheet according to the shift.

  Just at present the sounds that are wafted towards the barge are alllulling and dreamy: the far-off singing of birds; the sound of thewoodman's axe in the distant wood; the rattle of a cart or carriage on aroad that is nowhere visible; the jangle of church bells from a villagethat may be in the sky for anything any one can tell; and now the merrylaughter of young men and maidens making hay, and these last come insight just round the next green bend.

  It suddenly occurs to Jim that a dance wouldn't be at all a bad idea.Ransey is some distance behind his horse, when he sees him lower hishead and fling his heels high in air. This is merely preparatory; nextminute he is off at a gallop, making straight for that meadow offragrant hay, the wind catching mane and tail and blowing it straightout fore and aft.

  When tired of galloping round the field, Jim bears right down upon thehaymakers themselves.

  "That stuff," he says, with distended nostrils, "smells uncommonly nice.Give us a tuft."

  He is fed handsomely by both lads and lasses gay. But they get gayerthan ever when Jim throws himself down on his back, regardless of theconfused entanglement of bridle and traces. But Jim knows better thanto roll on the bare ground. He has thrown down a hay-cock for himself,and it is as good as a play to witness the girls bury him up till thereis nothing to be seen of him except his four legs kicking skywards.

  He gets up at last, and looks very sober and solemn. One girl kisseshim on the muzzle; another is busy doing something that Ransey cannotmake out, but a minute or two after this, when Jim comes thunderingback, there is a huge collar of hay around his neck. Ransey mounts himbareback, and, waving his hand to the haymakers, goes galloping off toovertake the barge, and throw the hay on board. A nice little snack itwill make for Jim some time later on!

  To-day Mr Tandy has bought a newspaper. He had meant to read it, buthe is too fond of country sights and sounds to bother about it now. Inthe evening, perhaps, over a pipe.

  On, ever on. There are locks to get through now, several of them, andlockmen are seldom, if ever, more than half awake; but everybody knowsTandy, and has a kindly word to say to Ransey Tansey, and perhaps a kissto blow to Babs, who has just awakened, with eyes that shine, and lipsand cheeks as red as the dog-roses that trail so sweetly over a hedgenear by.

  The country here is higher--a bit of Wales in the midlands, one mightalmost say. And so it continues for some time.

  Sammy takes his trick at the wheel, and prefers to steer by lying on hisback and touching the tiller with one bare foot. Sammy is alwaysoriginal and funny, and now tells Babs wonderful stories about fairiesand water-babies that he met with a long time ago when he used to dwelldeep down beneath the sea.

  Babs has never seen the real sea, except in pictures, and is rather hazyabout it. Nevertheless, Sammy's stories are very wonderful, anddoubtless very graphic. The sail is lowered at last, and the saucy_Merry Maiden_ moored to a green bank.

  The dinner is served, and all hands, including Jim, do justice to it.

  I said the barge was "moored" here. Literal enough, for a wide, wildmoor stretches all around. Sheep are feeding not far off, and somedroll-looking ponies that Jim would like to engage in conversation.There are patches of heath also, and stunted but prettily-featheredlarch-trees now hung with points of crimson. Great patches of goldengorse hug the ground and scent the air for yards around. Linnets aresinging there, and now and then the eye is gladdened by the sight of awood-lark. Sometimes he runs along the ground, singing more sweetlyeven than his brother musician who loves to soar as high as the clouds.

  Here is a cock-robin, looking very independent and lilting defiance ateverybody. Robins do not always live close to civilisation. This robincomes close enough to pick up the crumbs which Ransey throws towardshim. He wants Ransey to believe that all the country for miles andmiles around belongs to him--Cock-Robin--and that no bird save him hasany real business here.

  There are pine-trees waving on the hills yonder, and down below, a townmuch bigger than any they yet have arrived at.

  But see, there is a storm coming up astern, so, speedily now, the _MerryMaiden_ is once more under way.

  Babs is bundled down below, and Bob goes with her.

  Presently the air is chilly enough to make one shiver. A puff of highwind, a squall we may call it, brings up an army of clouds and darkness.Thunder rolls, and the swift lightning flashes--red, bright, intense--then down come the rain and the big white hailstones. These rattle soloudly on the poop deck, and on the great tarpaulin that covers thecargo, that for a time the thunder itself can scarcely be heard.

  But in twenty minutes' time the sun is once more shining, the cloudshave rolled far to leeward, the deck is dry, and but for the pools ofwater that lie in the hollows of the hard tarpaulin, no evidence is leftthat a summer storm had been raging.

  But away with the storm has gone the wind itself, and Jim is once morecalled into requisition. Then onwards floats the barge.

  Through many a bridge and lock, past many a hamlet, past woodlands andorchards, and fields of waving wheat, stopping only now and then at avillage, till at last, and just as the sun is westering, the distanttown is reached.

  Oh, a most unsavoury sort of a place, a most objectionable kind of awharf, at which to pass a night.

  Tandy sends Babs and Bob below again; for a language is spoken here hedoes not wish the child to listen to, sights may be seen he would notthat her eyes should dwell upon. Yonder is an ugly public-house withbroken windows in it, and a bloated-faced, bare-armed woman, thelandlady, standing with arms akimbo defiantly in the doorway. Ah! therewas a time when Tandy used to spend hours in that very house. Heshudders to think of it now.

  There is one dead tree at the gable of this inn, which--half a centuryago, perhaps--may have been a country hostelry surrounded by meadows andhedges. That tree would then be green, the air fresh and sweet aroundit, the mavis singing in its leafy shade. Now the sky is lurid, the airis tainted, and there is smoke everywhere. Not even the bark is left onthe ghastly tree. It looks as if it had died of leprosy.

  But the work is hurried through, and in a comparatively short time the_Merry Maiden_ is away out in the green quiet country.

  What a blessed change from the awful town they have just left!

  The sun has already gone down in such a glory of crimson, bronze, andorange, as we in this country seldom see.

  This soon fades away, however, as everything that is beautiful to beholdmust fade.

  The stars come out now in the east, and just as gloaming is merging intonight the boat draws near to a little
canal-side inn, and Jim, thehorse, who is wiser far than many a professed Christian, stops of hisown accord.

  For Ransey had gone to sleep--oh, he often rode thus and never fell. Heawakes now, however, with a start, and gazes wonderingly around him.His eyes fall upon the sign. And there, in large white letters, the boycan read easily enough though the light is fading--the "Bargee'sChorus."

  And not only could he read, but he could remember: it was here they laythat sad, sad night--what a long time ago it seemed--when mother died.

  Here was the landlord himself with his big apron on, a burly fellow witha kindly face, and as Tandy stepped on shore he was welcomed with ahearty handshake.

  "Ah: Cap'en Tandy, and 'ow's you. And here is Ransey Tansey, bright andbobbish, and little Babs, and Bob, and everybody. How nice you alllook! But la!" he added, "it do seem such a long, long time since youwere here before."

  "I've not had the heart to come much this way, Mr Shirley. I've beentrading at the southern