Guy and Tommy were already there, engaged in earnest conversation. The ruddy light of the binnacle lamp streamed up in the face of the latter, and revealed his curly fair hair clustering in wild disorder over his flushed brow, as, with fire gleaming in his blue eyes, he stared up in his companions face and related how that Bax, in the coolest manner possible, had kept treading water with the girl in his arms, knowing quite well that not even his strength, great though it was, could enable him to pull himself by the rope to the ship against the tide, and knowing that, in a few minutes, some one would get into the boat and pick them up.
And so some one did, and very cleverly and bravely done it was, Tommy, said Guy, laying his hand kindly on the boys shoulder.
Well, I dont think much o that, replied Tommy. It dont call for much courage to jump into a boat of a fine night, twist your legs round a thort, and hold on to a girl by claws and teeth till somebody comes to yer help.
It was all very well for Tommy to disclaim credit for what he had done; but the glad triumphant expression of his face, and his firm erect gait, proved that he was very much satisfied indeed with the share he had had in that nights adventure.
Ah, sir, continued the boy, there never was a man like Bax!
You appear to admire him very much, said Guy; and from the little that I have seen of him I think you have good reason.
Admire him! cried Tommy, with a look of scorn; no, I dont. I like him. Hes a trump!
Whos a trump? inquired Bluenose, coming up at that moment.
Bax, replied the boy, with the air of one who takes up an impregnable position, and defies the whole world in arms to overthrow him.
So he is, so he is, a reglar trump, said the Captain, an wots more, there aint no more of them there trumps in the pack, for hes the king of arts, he is. An youre a trump, too, Tommy; youre the knave of arts, you are, ye little beggar. Go and git blankets and hot coffee for that gal, and look sharp, my lad.
I have heard you speak once or twice of Bax and his exploits, said Guy Foster, when the boy left them, but this is the first time I have seen him perform. I did not see much of him when down on the coast last summer, but I saw enough to make me like him. Is he really the wonderful fellow that Tommy makes him out to be?
Wonderful? echoed the Captain, puffing his pipe vigorously, as was his wont when a little puzzled for an expression or an idea. No, he aint wonderful; thats not the word. Hes a life-preserver, thats wot he is. None o your hinflated injinrubber or cork affairs, but a reglar, hanimated, walkin, self-actin life-preserver. Why, Ive knowd him, off and on, since he was the length of a marline spike, dye seean Ive seed him save dozens, ay dozens, of livesmen, women, and children,in lifeboats, an in luggers, an swimmin. Why, he thinks no more o that wot hes done to-night, than he does of eatin salt junk. Hes got a silver medal from the Royal Life-Boat Institution, an another from the Queen of Spain, and a gold un from some other king or queen, I dont xactly know whobesides no end o thanks, written on paper, also on wot they calls wellum, in beautiful German text and small-hand;ho! you know, nobody knows wot that fellers been a-doin of all his life. If he was hung round with all the gold and silver medals he deserves to have, hed go to the bottomlife-preserver though he islike the sheet-anchor of a seventy-four, he would.
Whats that about going to the bottom? said Bax, who came aft at the moment.
Thats just wot youve got nothin to do with, replied Bluenose, resuming his pipe, which, in the ardour of his discourse, he had removed from his lips, and held out at arms length before him.
Well, I have not much to do with going to the bottom, said Bax, laughing. But wheres Tommy?oh! here you are. Have you attended to orders?
Blankits, hot, just bin sent in. Coffee, hot, follers in five minits.
Brayvo, ejaculated Bluenose, with an approving smile. I wonder who the old man is? said Guy. He neither looks like a landsman nor a seaman, but a sort of mixture of both.
So he is, said Bax. I happen to know him, though he does not know me. He is a Scripture reader to sailors (Burton by name), and has spent many years of his life at work on the coast, in the neighbourhood of Ramsgate. I suppose he was goin down the coast in the vessel out of which his daughter tumbled. I didnt know he had a daughter. By the way, shes not a bad one to begin with, Tommy; a regular beauty, continued Bax, with a smile. Youve often wondered whether the first would be a man, or a woman, or a child. The point is settled now!
Yes, replied the boy, with a grave meditative look. I suppose I may say shes my first, for you know you could not have done it without me.
There was something ludicrous, as well as sublime, in this little chip of humanity gravely talking of poor Lucy Burton being his first, as if he had just entered on a new fishing-ground, and were beginning to take account of the creatures he had the good fortune to haul out of the sea!
And in very truth, reader, this was the case. Under the training of a modest, lion-hearted British sailor, the boy was beginning to display, in unusual vigour, those daring, enthusiastic, self-sacrificing qualities which, although mingled with much that is evil, are marked characteristics of our seamen; qualities which have gone far to raise our little island to her present high position of commercial prosperity and political importance, and which, with Gods blessing, will continue to carry our flag, our merchandise, and our bibles, to the ends of the earth, and guard our shores, as in days of old, from the foot of every foreign foe. England can never fully appreciate how much she owes to her seamen. The thousands of our inland population have a very inadequate conception of the race of heroes by which our coasts are peopled. Bax is no exaggerated specimen, got up, in these sensation days, for effect. It is a glorious fact,proved by the hard and bare statistics furnished annually by the Board of Trade, and from other sources,that his name is legion, and that the men of whom he is a type swarm all round our coasts, from the old Ultima Thule to the Lands End.
Yes, Tommy was in good training. He had begun well. He was evidently a chip of the elder block. It did not, indeed, occur to his young imagination to suppose that he could ever become anything in the most distant degree resembling his idol Bax. Neither did he entertain any definite idea as to what his young heart longed after; but he had seen life saved; he had stood on the sea-shore when storms cast shattered wrecks upon the sands, and had witnessed the exploits of boatmen in their brave efforts to save human life; he had known what it was to weep when the rescuer perished with those whom he sought to save, and he had helped to swell with his tiny voice, the bursting cheer of triumph, when men, women, and children were plucked, as if by miracle, from the raging sea! To take part in those deeds of heroism was the leading desire in the boys life; and now it seemed as if his career were commencing in earnest, and the day-dreams in which he had so long indulged were at last about to become waking realities.