Wild Life in the Land of the Giants Part 16

CHAPTER TEN.

BOOK II--PATAGONIA AND THE LAND OF FIRE.

A STRANGE INTRODUCTION--SAINT HELENA AND FUN ON Sh.o.r.e--CAPE TOWN.

The amount of good advice vouchsafed to us before sailing, by dear aunt, was only equalled by the sum total of our own good resolves. There was nothing in the world we were not going to do and be that was worth doing or being. And every night of our lives for weeks before sailing, we made some new good intention, and duly entered it in the log of our memories.

Alas! I fear that going to sea for the first time is very like entering upon a new year: there is the same firm determination to do good and to be good, and one invariably sticks to his intentions boldly--for a week or a fortnight.

Our life now, I remember, was to be all _couleur de rose_. There would not be a single hitch in it; it would spin over the wheels of time as softly as a well-coiled rope glides through a greased block. We were going to work like New Hollanders, and get up to the working of the ship in a month at the farthest, be able to reef, steer, and box the compa.s.s in another month; we would always be on deck three minutes before the watch was called; we would show the men a good example--we certainly had a good opinion of our little selves; we would be always cheerful and merry and willing; and last, but not least, we would keep such a log as would be worth handing over to the British Museum when done with.

However, there is no harm in trying to be perfect; on the contrary, it shows a boy is ambitious, and an ambitious boy is certain to do well and advance. He may not obtain to the height of his ambition, but if he aims high he'll hit high, nevertheless, although he may neither send his arrow through the moon nor set the Thames on fire.

The _Salamander_ was a sailing ship, but a crack little craft at that, well-handled, and well-manned. A barque she was as to rig, but almost clipper built, without extra narrowness of beam. She was a strong, st.u.r.dy-timbered, safe ship, and could do a bit of handsome sailing on a wind.

But being a sailing ship, she had to be towed by such a puffing little dirty noisy tug, all the way down the river. This is a sort of a beginning to a voyage that I never could endure. When I go to sea, I like best to get into blue water right away, just as I dearly love to take a header from the rocks into deep water when bathing--right splash down among the jelly fishes.

But we hoisted sail at last with a deal of "yee-hoing" and sing-songing, then the tug and we parted company with a ringing cheer, which Jill and I took an eminent part in. Indeed, when the order was given to hoist the jib, both of us attempted to take an eminent part in that also, and were thunderstruck at being advised to go aft if we didn't want our toes tramped. Why, the scramble in setting sail, the hurrying here and scurrying there, the noise and shouting, would have left a Rugby football match far in the rear.

When sail was got up at last, and the water had entirely lost its pea-soup colour, the _Salamander_ went bobbing and curtseying over the wee wavelets, swaying about like a pretty Spanish girl dancing a fandango, and with a motion altogether so pleasant, that I said to Jill I did not think there was any life in the world so pleasant as a life on the ocean wave.

Just as I was saying this I received a dig from a thumb in the ribs, accompanied by that clicking sound a Jehu makes with his mouth when he wants his horse to "gee up." I think it is spelt thus: "tsck!" If not, I do not know how to spell it.

"Tsck! youngsters, how d'y'e like it? Eh! Tsck! Sorry to leave the shorie-worry. Eh? Tsck."

He was a youth of about fifteen, in blue pilot jacket with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, and a cap on the after-part of his head. He had a short neck and handsome face, but square chin, which he stuck very much up in the air when he spoke. I did not like him, then.

I drew myself up to my full height--four feet six, I think--and asked him if he was aware he was taking an unwarrantable amount of familiarity with my ribs.

I was using my very best English on him--auntie's English.

"What's your name, chummy?"

"Captain Coates may be able to inform you."

"Ha! ha! going to ride the high horse. Eh?"

"What's your name, little un? Tsck!" This to Jill.

Jill bridled up now.

"When I'm as big as you, I'll thrash you," said my brother.

"But you'll never be, 'cause I'll keep growing. See?"

I looked at him disdainfully up and down.

"You don't give promise at present," I said, "of ever attaining heroic dimensions."

"Eh?" he said, putting a finger behind his left ear, as deaf people do.

"I didn't catch on. What ship did you say?"

"Because," I added, "you're squat, and you're not wholesome, nor handsome."

This was hardly handsome of me.

He shook his head now as if in great grief.

"Oh! you ungrateful little griffin," he gasped out. "Here is poor innocent me come to chummy with you, and there is you a-rebuffing of me like everything. I declare it's enough to make the binnacle pipe its eye."

Then he brightened up all at once.

"I say," he said, "was that old d.u.c.h.ess your aunt? Uncommon fine old girl. Give you any yellow boys, eh?"

I turned on my heel and walked away, arm-in-arm with Jill.

At the same moment Mrs Coates and her black maid came up, and I was surprised to observe the immediate change in this young officer's demeanour. He lifted his hat to the lady, and advanced almost shyly, certainly deferentially.

"Now, boys," said Mrs Coates, smiling, "let me make you acquainted with your brother officer, Mr Jeffries. Mr Jeffries--Master Reginald-- and-all-the-rest-of-it Jones; Master Rupert, etc, Jones--twin brothers, as you may see."

Mr Jeffries cordially shook hands with us.

"I really was trying to sc.r.a.pe acquaintance with them when you came on deck, Mrs Coates."

"How did you proceed?" asked the lady.

"Well, I--I fear I dug them in the ribs rather, Mrs Coates, but I now most humbly apologise."

"And I have to apologise," I returned, "for calling you squat and ugly."

I lifted my hat.

"And I," said Jill, lifting his hat, "have to apologise for saying I would thrash you--I won't."

"No," said Mr Jeffries, "I dare say you won't yet awhile. Well, let's all be pleasant. We're all in the same boat. But boys, I'm plain Peter. Don't Mr me."

"And I'm Jack."

"And I'm Jill."

"Oh," laughed Mrs Coates, "then I must call my Jack--John."

I could not help thinking this was a very strange introduction, but the ice was broken, and that was everything.

We had music after dinner, in our pretty little saloon, Mrs Coates and Peter playing duets together, he with the clarionet--on which charming instrument every boy should take lessons before going to sea--and she at the piano.

We youngsters went on deck before turning in. The stars were all out, and all sail was crowded; but though well into the Channel, we made but little way, the sea all round being as calm as an English lake.

We sat down together near the companion.