Nic Revel Part 7

"Hah! Began to think you long, Jack," said Captain Revel; and they returned to the house and entered, after a glance seaward, where the ship lay at anchor.

Towards evening Solly was sent to hoist a signal upon the flagstaff, and soon after a boat was seen pulling towards the sh.o.r.e. Then the visitor took his leave, renewing his promise to reply to a signal by sending a strong party of men.

Nic walked down to the boat with his father's friend, and answered several questions about the type of men who came after the salmon.

"I see, I see," said Captain Lawrence; "but do you think they'll fight well?"

"Oh yes; there are some daring rascals among them."

"So much the better, my dear boy. There, good-bye. Mind--two small flags on your signal-halyards after the first heavy rain upon the moor, and you may expect us at dusk. If the rascals don't come we'll have another try; but you'll know whether they'll be there by the fish in the pool. They'll know too--trust 'em. Look, there's your father watching us--" and he waved his hand. "Good-bye, Nic, my dear boy. Good-bye!"

He shook hands very warmly. Two of his men who were ash.o.r.e joined hands to make what children call a "dandy-chair," the Captain placed his hands upon their shoulders, and they waded through the shallow water to the boat, pausing to give her a shove off before climbing in; and then, as the oars made the water flash in the evening light, Nic climbed the long hill again, to stand with his father, watching the boat till she reached the side of the ship.

"Now then, my boy," said the old man, "we're going to give those fellows such a lesson as they have never had before."

He little knew how truly he was speaking.

"I hope so, father," said Nic; and he was delighted to find how pleased the old officer seemed.

The next morning, when Nic opened his bedroom window, the king's ship was not in sight; and for a week Captain Revel was fidgeting and watching the sky, for no rain came, and there was not water enough in the river for fresh salmon to come as far as the pool.

"Did you ever see anything like it, Nic, my boy?" the Captain said again and again; "that's always the way: if I didn't want it to rain, there'd be a big storm up in the hills, and the fall would be roaring like a sou'-wester off the Land's End; but now I want just enough water to fill the river, not a drop will come. How long did Jack Lawrence say that he was going to stop about Plymouth?"

"He didn't say, father, that I remember," replied Nic. "Then he'll soon be off; and just in the miserable, cantankerous way in which things happen, the very day he sets sail there'll be a storm on Dartmoor, and the next morning the pool will be full of salmon, and those scoundrels will come to set me at defiance, and clear off every fish."

"I say, father," said Nic merrily, "isn't that making troubles, and fancying storms before they come?"

"What, sir? How dare you speak to me like that?" cried the Captain.--"And you, Solly, you mutinous scoundrel, how dare you laugh?"

he roared, turning to his body-servant, who happened to be in the hail.

"Beg your honour's pardon; I didn't laugh."

"You did laugh, sir," roared the Captain--"that is, I saw you look at Master Nic here and smile. It's outrageous. Every one is turning against me, and I'm beginning to think it's time I was out of this miserable world."

He s.n.a.t.c.hed up his stick from the stand, banged on the old straw hat he wore, and stamped out of the porch to turn away to the left, leaving Nic hesitating as to what he should do, deeply grieved as he was at his father's annoyance and display of temper. One moment he was for following and trying to say something which would tend to calm the irritation. The next he was thinking it would be best to leave the old man to himself, trusting to the walk in the pleasant grounds having the desired result.

But this idea was knocked over directly by Solly, who had followed his master to the porch, and stood watching him for a few moments.

"Oh dear, dear! Master Nic," he cried, turning back, "he's gone down the combe path to see whether there's any more water running down; and there aren't, and he'll be a-wherriting his werry inside out, and that wherrits mine too. For I can't abear to see the poor old skipper like this here."

"No, Solly, neither can I," said Nic gloomily.

"It's his old hurts does it, sir. It aren't nat'ral. Here he is laid up, as you may say, in clover, in as nice a place as an old sailor could end his days in."

"Yes, Solly," said Nic sadly; "it is a beautiful old place."

"Ay, it is, sir; and when I cons it over I feel it. Why, Master Nic, when I think of all the real trouble as there is in life, and what some folks has to go through, I asks myself what I've ever done to have such good luck as to be safely moored here in such a harbour. It's a lovely home, and the troubles is nothing--on'y a bit of a gale blowed by the skipper now and then along of the wrong boots as hurts his corns, or him being a-carrying on too much sail, and bustin' off a b.u.t.ton in a hurry.

And who minds that?"

"Ah! who minds a trifle like that, Solly?" sighed Nic. "Well, sir, you see he does. Wind gets up directly, and he talks to me as if I'd mutinied. But I don't mind. I know all the time that he's the best and bravest skipper as ever lived, and I'd do anything for him to save him from trouble."

"I know you would, Solly," said Nic, laying a hand upon the rugged old sailor's shoulder.

"Thank ye, Master Nic; that does a man good. But look here, sir; I can't help saying it. The fact is, after his rough, stormy life, everything here's made too easy for the skipper. He's a bit worried by his old wounds, and that's all; and consekens is 'cause he aren't got no real troubles he wherrits himself and makes quakers."

"Makes quakers?" said Nic wonderingly.

"Sham troubles, Master Nic--wooden guns, as we call quakers out at sea or in a fort. Strikes me, sir, as a real, downright, good, gen-u-wine trouble, such as losing all his money, would be the making of the Captain; and after that he'd be ready to laugh at losing a few salmon as he don't want. I say, Master Nic, you aren't offended at me for making so bold?"

"No, Solly, no," said the young man sadly. "You mean well, I know.

There, say no more about it. I hope all this will settle itself, as so many troubles do."

Nic strolled out into the grounds and unconsciously followed his father, who had gone to the edge of the combe; but he had not walked far before a cheery hail saluted his ears, and, to his great delight, he found the Captain looking radiant.

"Nic, my boy, it's all right," he cried; "my left arm aches terribly and my corns are shooting like mad. Well, what are you staring at? Don't you see it means rain? Look yonder, too. Bah! It's of no use to tell you, boy. You've never been to sea. You've never had to keep your weather-eye open. See that bit of silvery cloud yonder over Rigdon Tor?

And do you notice what a peculiar gleam there is in the air, and how the flies bite?"

"Yes--yes, I see all that, father."

"Well, it's rain coming, my boy. There's going to be a thunderstorm up in the hills before many hours are past. I'm not a clever man, but I can tell what the weather's going to be as well as most folk."

"I'm glad of it, father, if it will please you."

"Please me, boy? I shall be delighted. To-morrow morning the salmon will be running up the river again, and we may hoist the signal for help. I say, you don't think Jack Lawrence has gone yet?"

"No, father," said Nic; "I do not."

"Why, Nic?--why?" cried the old sailor.

"Because he said to me he should certainly come up and see us again before he went."

"To be sure; so he did to me, Nic. I say, my boy, I--that is--er-- wasn't I a little bit crusty this morning to you and poor old William Solly?"

"Well, yes; just a little, father," said Nic, taking his arm.

"Sorry for it. Change of the weather, Nic, affects me. It was coming on. I must apologise to Solly. Grand old fellow, William Solly. Saved my life over and over again. Man who would die for his master, Nic; and a man who would do that is more than a servant, Nic--he is a friend."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE CAPTAIN'S PROPHECY.

Before many hours had pa.s.sed the Captain's words proved correct. The clouds gathered over the tors, and there was a tremendous storm a thousand feet above the Point. The lightning flashed and struck and splintered the rugged old ma.s.ses of granite; the thunder roared, and there was a perfect deluge of rain; while down near the sea, though it was intensely hot, not a drop fell, and the evening came on soft and cool.

"Solly, my lad," cried the Captain, rubbing his hands, "we shall have the fall roaring before midnight; but don't sit up to listen to it."

"Cert'n'y not, sir," said the old sailor.