The Lively Poll Part 13

After a moment's consideration, the small boy advised that Mrs Mooney's hut should be watched.

"In course," he said, "d.i.c.k Martin ain't such a fool as to go an' steal doorin' the daytime, so we don't need to begin till near dark. You are big an' strong enough now, Bob, to go at a man like d.i.c.k an' floor him wi a thumpin' stick."

"Scarcely," returned Bob, with a gratified yet dubious shake of his head. "I'm game to try, but it won't do to risk gettin' the worst of it in a thing o' this sort."

"Well, but if I'm there with another thumpin' stick to back you up,"

said Pat, "you'll have no difficulty wotsumdever. An' then, if we should need help, ain't the `Blue Boar' handy, an' there's always a lot o' hands there ready for a spree at short notice? Now, my adwice is that we go right off an' buy two thumpin' sticks--yaller ones, wi' big heads like Jack the Giant Killer--get 'em for sixpence apiece. A heavy expense, no doubt, but worth goin' in for, for the sake of Eve Mooney.

And when, in the words o' the old song, the shades of evenin' is closin'

o'er us, we'll surround the house of Eve, and `wait till the brute rolls by!'"

"You're far too poetical, Pat, for a practical man, said his friend.

Howsomediver, I think, on the whole, your adwice is not bad, so well try it on. But wot are we to do till the shades of evenin' comes on?"

"Amoose ourselves," answered Pat promptly.

"H'm! might do worse," returned his friend. "I s'pose you know I've got to be at Widow Martin's to take tea wi' Fred an' his bride on their return from their weddin' trip. I wonder if I might take you with me, Pat. You're small, an' I suppose you don't eat much."

"Oh, don't I, though?" exclaimed Pat.

"Well, no matter. It would be very jolly. We'd have a good blow-out, you know; sit there comfortably together till it began to git dark, and then start off to--to--"

"Go in an' win," suggested the little one.

Having thus discussed their plans and finished their coffee, the two chivalrous lads went off to Yarmouth and purchased two of the most formidable cudgels they could find, of the true Jack-the-Giant-Killer type, with which they retired to the Denes to "amoose" themselves.

Evening found them hungry and hearty at the tea-table of Mrs Martin-- and really, for the table of a fisherman's widow, it was spread with a very sumptuous repast; for it was a great day in the history of the Martin family. No fewer than three Mrs Martins were seated round it.

There was old Granny Martin, who consented to quit her attic window on that occasion and take the head of the table, though she did so with a little sigh, and a soft remark that, "It would be sad if he were to come when she was not watching." Then there was widow Martin, Fred's mother--whose bad leg, by the way, had been quite cured by her legacy.

And lastly, there was pretty Mrs Isa Martin, Fred's newly-married wife.

Besides these there were skipper Lockley of the _Lively Poll_, and his wife Martha--for it will be remembered Martha was cousin to Isa, and Stephen's smack chanced to be in port at this time as well as the _Sunbeam_ and the _Fairy_, alias the _Ironclad_, which last circ.u.mstance accounts for d.i.c.k Martin being also on sh.o.r.e. But d.i.c.k was not invited to this family gathering, for the good reason that he had not shown face since landing, and no one seemed to grieve over his absence, with the exception of poor old granny, whose love for her "wandering boy" was as strong and unwavering as was her love to the husband, for whose coming she had watched so long.

Bob Lumsden, it may be remarked, was one of the guests, because Lockley was fond of him; and Pat Stiver was there because Bob was fond of _him_!

Both were heartily welcomed.

Besides the improvement in Mrs Martin's health, there was also vast improvement in the furniture and general appearance of the attic since the arrival of the legacy.

"It was quite a windfall," remarked Mrs Lockley, handing in her cup for more tea.

"True, Martha, though I prefer to call it a G.o.dsend," said Mrs Martin.

"You see it was gettin' so bad, what wi' standin' so long at the tub, an' goin' about wi' the clo'es, that I felt as if I should break down altogether, I really did; but now I've been able to rest it I feel as if it was going to get quite strong again, and that makes me fit to look after mother far better. Have some more tea, granny!"

A mumbled a.s.sent and a pleased look showed that the old woman was fully alive to what was going on.

"Hand the b.u.t.ter to Isa, Pat. Thankee," said the ex-washerwoman. "What a nice little boy your friend is, Bob Lumpy! I'm so glad you thought of bringin' him. He quite puts me in mind of what my boy Fred was at his age--on'y a trifle broader, an' taller, an stouter."

"A sort of lock-stock-an'-barrel difference, mother," said Fred, laughing.

"I dun know what you mean by your blocks, stocks, an' barrels," returned Mrs Martin, "but Pat is a sight milder in the face than you was, an I'm sure he's a better boy."

The subject of this remark c.o.c.ked his ears and winked gently with one eye to his friend Bob, with such a sly look that the blooming bride, who observed it, went off into a shriek of laughter.

"An' only to think," continued Mrs Martin, gazing in undisguised admiration at her daughter-in-law, "that my Fred--who seems as if on'y yesterday he was no bigger than Pat, should have got Isa Wentworth--the best la.s.s in all Gorleston--for a wife! You're a lucky boy!"

"Right you are," responded Fred, with enthusiasm. "I go wi' you there, mother, but I'm more than a lucky boy--I'm a highly favoured one, and I thank G.o.d for the precious gift; and also for that other gift, which is second only to Isa, the command of a Gospel ship on the North Sea."

A decided chuckle, which sounded like a choke, from granny, fortunately called for attentions from the bride at this point.

"But do 'ee really think your mission smack will do much good?" asked Martha Lockley, who was inclined to scepticism.

"I am sure of it," replied Fred emphatically. "Why, we've done some good work already, though we have bin but a short time wi' the fleet. I won't speak of ourselves, but just look at what has bin done in the way of saving drunkards and swearers by the _Cholmondeley_ in the short-Blue Fleet, and by the old _Ensign_ in the Fleet started by Mr Burdett-Coutts, the _Columbia_ fleet, and in the other fleets that have got Gospel ships. It is not too much to say that there are hundreds of men now prayin' to G.o.d, singin' the praises o' the Lamb, an' servin'

their owners better than they ever did before, who not long ago were G.o.dless drunkards and swearers."

"Men are sometimes hypocrites," objected Martha; "how d'ee know that they are honest, or that it will last?"

"Hypocrites?" exclaimed Fred, pulling a paper hastily from his pocket and unfolding it. "I think you'll admit that sharp men o' bussiness are pretty good judges o' hypocrites as well as of good men. Listen to what one of the largest firms of smack-owners says: `Our men have been completely revolutionised, and we gladly become subscribers of ten guineas to the funds of the Mission.' Another firm says, `What we have stated does not convey anything like our sense of the importance of the work you have undertaken.'"

"Ay, there's something in that," said Martha, who, like all sceptics, was slow to admit truth.

We say not this to the discredit of sceptics. On the contrary, we think that people who swallow what is called "truth" too easily, are apt to imbibe a deal of error along with it. Doubtless it was for the benefit of such that the word was given--"Prove all things. Hold fast that which is good."

Fred then went to show the immense blessing that mission ships had already been to the North Sea fishermen--alike to their souls and bodies; but we may not follow him further, for Bob Lumsden and Pat Stiver claim individual attention just now.

When these enterprising heroes observed that the shades of evening were beginning to fall, they rose to take their leave.

"Why so soon away, lads?" asked Fred.

"We're goin' to see Eve Mooney," answered Bob. "Whatever are the boys goin' to do wi' them thick sticks?" exclaimed Martha Lockley.

"Fit main an fore masts into a man-o'-war, I suppose," suggested her husband.

The boys did not explain, but went off laughing, and Lockley called after them--

"Tell Eve I've got a rare lot o' queer things for her this trip."

"And give her my dear love," cried Mrs Fred Martin.

"Ay, ay," replied the boys as they hurried away on their self-imposed mission.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE ENTERPRISE FAILS--REMARKABLY.

The lads had to pa.s.s the "Blue Boar" on their way to Widow Mooney's hut, and they went in just to see, as Bob said, how the land lay, and whether there was a prospect of help in that quarter if they should require it.

Besides a number of strangers, they found in that den of iniquity Joe Stubley, Ned Bryce, and Groggy Fox--which last had, alas! forgotten his late determination to "leave the poor old stranded wreck and pull for the sh.o.r.e." He and his comrades were still out among the breakers, clinging fondly to the old wreck.