Susan listened to these remarks with profound admiration, chiefly because she did not understand them; but cook, who was more matter-of-fact in her nature, and somewhat demonstrative in her tendencies, advised Dan not to talk gammon, but to explain what he meant.
Explain what I mean, coolinary sunbeam! said Dan; isnt it explainin that I am as plain as the nose on yer face, (an a purty wan it is), though I havent got the powers of a lawyer, nor yit a praist? Didnt a drippin wet sailor come to our door at the dead o night an ring the bell as bowld as brass, an when Mrs Niven, whose intellect was niver much beyond that of a poplypus
Whats a poplypus? interrupted cook.
Well now, remonstrated Dan, I aint xactly a walkin dictionary; but I blieve its a baist o the say what haint got nothin but a body an a stummik, indeed Im not sure but that its all stummik together, with just legs enough to move about with, or may be a fin or two, an a hole to let in the wittles; quite in your line, by the way, Miss Bounder.
Imperance! ejaculated cook.
No offence, said Dan; but to resoom the thread o the narrative, as the story books say, Mrs Niven she opened the door, and the drippin wet sailor he puts a little wet spalpeen in her arms, an goes right off without so much as by your lave, an thats all we know about it. An Grumpy he goes ragin about the house sayin hell have nothin to do wi the poor little thingwhos not so little naither, bein a ten-year-old if shes an hour, an a purty sweet face to bootan that hell send her to the workus or prisn, or anywhere; but in his house shes not to stop another day. Well, not havin the management o the whole of this worlds affairs, (fortnately, else a scrubbily managed world it would be), Grumpy finds out that when he wants to send little Emmie, (as she calls herself), off, shes knocked down by a ragin fever, an the doctor he says its as much as her life is worth to move her. So Grumpy has to grin and bear it, and theres little Emmie lyin at this minit in our best bed, (where Mrs Niven put her the moment she was took bad), a-tossin her purty arms in the air, an makin her yellow hair fly over the pillows, and kickin off the close like a young angel in a passion, and callin on her mama in a voice that would make a stone immage weep, all the while that Miss Penelope is snivellin on one side o the bed, an Mrs Niven is snortin on the other.
Poor dear, said Susan in a low voice, devoting herself with intensified zeal to the tea-pot, while sympathetic tears moistened her eyes.
I interrupted the conversation at this point by entering the kitchen with my note to my friend Stuart. I had to pass through the kitchen to my back garden when I wished to leave my house by the back garden gate. I had coughed and made as much noise as possible in approaching the cooks domains, but they had been so much engrossed with each other that they did not hear me. Dan sprang hastily off the table, and suddenly assumed a deeply respectful air.
Dan, said I, take this note to Mr Stuart as quickly as possible, and bring me an answer without delay. I am going to see Haco Barepoles at
Oh, sir! exclaimed Susan with a start, and looking at me interrogatively.
Oh, I forgot, Susan; your father has just arrived from Aberdeen, and is at this moment in the Sailors Home. You may run down to see him, my girl, if you choose.
Thank you, sir, said Susan, with a glow of pleasure on her good-looking face, as she pushed the tea-pot from her, and dropt the cloth, in her haste to get away to see her sire.
Stay, Susan, said I; you need not hurry back. In fact, you may spend the day with your father, if you choose; and tell him that I will be down to see him in a few minutes. But I shall probably be there before you. You may take Mr Stuarts answer to the Home, I added, turning to Dan; I shall be there when you return with it.
Yes, sir, said Dan in a tone so energetic as to cause me to look at him. I observed that he was winking towards the kitchen door. Casting my eyes thither I saw that Susans face was much flushed as he disappeared into the passage. I also noted that the cooks face was fiery red, and that she stirred a large pot, over which she bent, with unnecessary violenceviciously, as it were.
Pondering on these things I crossed my garden and proceeded towards the Home, which stood on a conspicuous eminence near the docks, at the east end of the town.
Chapter Nine.
The Sailors Home and the Mad Skipper
The Sailors Home in Wreckumoft was a neat, substantial, unpretending edifice, which had been built by a number of charitable people, in order to provide a comfortable residence, with board at moderate terms, for the numerous seamen who frequented our port. It also served as a place of temporary refuge to the unfortunate crews of the numerous wrecks which occurred annually on our shores.
Here I found Haco Barepoles, the skipper of a coal sloop, seated on the side of his bed in one of the little berths of the Home, busily engaged in stuffing tobacco into the bowl of a great German pipe with the point of his little finger. Susan, who had outstripped me, was seated beside him with her head on his shoulder.
Oh, father! I heard Susan say, as I walked along the passage between the rows of sleeping berths that lined each side of the principal dormitory of our Home; I shall lose you some day, I fear. How was it that you came so near bein wrecked?
Before the skipper could reply I stood in the doorway of his berth.
Good-day, Haco, said I; glad to see you safe back once more.
Thankee, Capn Bingleysame to you, sir, said Haco, rising hastily from the bed and seizing my hand, which he shook warmly, and, I must add, painfully; for the skipper was a hearty, impulsive fellow, apt to forget his strength of body in the strength of his feelings, and given to grasp his male friends with a gripe that would, I verily believe, have drawn a roar from Hercules.
Ive come back to the old bunk, you see, he continued, while I sat down on a chest which served for a chair. I likes the Home better an better every time I comes to it, and Ive brought all my crew with me; for you see, sir, the Coffins amost fallin to pieces, and will have to go into dock for a riglar overhaul.
The Coffin? said Susan, interrogatively.
Yes, lass; its only a nickname the old tub got in the north, where they call the colliers coal-coffins, cause its ten to one youll go to the bottom in em every time ye go to sea.
Are they all so bad as to deserve the name? inquired Susan.
No, not xactly all of em; but theres a good lot as are not half so fit for sea as a washin tub. You see, they aint worth repairin, and owners sometimes just take their chance o makin a safe run by keepin the pumps goin the whole time.
I informed Haco that I had called for the purpose of telling him that I had applied to Mr Stuart, who owned his little coal sloop, to give a few wrecked Russians a passage to London, in order that they might be handed over to the care of their consul; but that I would have to find a passage for them in some other vessel, as the Coffin was so unseaworthy.
Dont be in too great a hurry, sir, said Haco, with a peculiar smile and twinkle in his eye; Im inclined to think that Mr Stuart will send her back to London to be repaired there