Chapter 4. A Lesson In Swimming

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_ CHAPTER FOUR. A LESSON IN SWIMMING

It was hot! One of those dry summers when the air seems to quiver with the heat, and one afternoon, as I was in my old place at the window watching Shock go to and fro, carrying baskets of what seemed to be beans, George Day came along.

"I say," he cried, "ask leave to come with us. We've got a half-holiday."

Just then I saw the bristling shoots on the wall shake, but I paid no heed, for I was too much interested in my new friend's words.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Oh, down the meadows! that's the best place, and there's no end of fun to be had. I'll take a fishing-rod." I went to where my mother was lying down and asked her consent, receiving a feeble _yes_, and her hand went up to my neck, to draw me down that she might kiss me.

"Be back in good time," she whispered. "George Day, you said?"

"Yes; his father is something in London, and he goes to the grammar-school."

"Be back in good time," she whispered again; and getting my cap, I just caught sight of Shock at the top of the wall as I ran by the window.

"Poor fellow!" I thought, "how he, too, would like a holiday!"

"Here I am," I cried; and feeling as if I had been just released from some long confinement, I set off with my companion at a sharp run.

We had to call at his house, a large red brick place just at the end of the village, close to Isleworth church, where the rod was obtained, with a basket to hold bait, lines, and the fish that we were going to catch; and soon after we were down where the sleek cows were contentedly lying about munching, and giving their heads an angry toss now and then to keep off the flies.

Rich grass, golden butter-cups, bushes and trees whose boughs swept down towards the ground, swallows and swifts darting here and there, and beneath the vividly blue sky there was the river like so much damascened silver, for in those days one never thought about the mud.

I cannot describe the joy I felt in running here and there with my companion, and a couple of his school-fellows who had preceded us, and who saluted us as we approached with a shout.

We ran about till we were tired, and then the fishing commenced from the bank, for the tide was well up, and according to my companion's account the fish were in plenty.

Perhaps they were, but though bait after bait was placed upon the hook, and the line thrown out to float along with the current, not a fish was caught, no vestige of that nerve-titillating tremble of the float--a bite--was seen.

Every now and then some one struck sharply, trying to make himself believe that roach or dace had taken the bait, but the movement of the float was always due to the line dragging the gravelly ground, or the bait touching one of the many weeds.

The sun was intensely hot, and scorched our backs, and burned our faces by flashing back from the water, which looked cool and tempting, as it ran past our feet.

We fished on, sometimes one handling the rod and sometimes the other-- beginning by throwing in the line with whispered words, so as not to frighten the fish that were evidently not there, and ending by sending in bait and float with a splash, and with noise and joking.

"There's a big one," some one would cry, and a clod torn out from the bank, or a stone, would be thrown in amidst bursts of laughter.

"Oh it's not a jolly bit of good," cried one of the boys; "they won't bite to-day. I'm so thirsty, let's have a drink."

"No, no, don't drink the water," I said; "it isn't good enough."

"What shall we do then--run after the cows for a pen'orth of milk?"

"I say, look there," cried George Day; "the tide's turned. It's running down. We shall get plenty of fish now."

"Why, there's somebody bathing down below there," cried another of the boys.

"Yes, and can't he swim!"

"Let's all have a bathe," cried young Day.

"Ah, come on: it will be jolly here. Who's first in?"

I looked on half in amazement, for directly after catching sight of the head of some lad in the water about a couple of hundred yards below us, who seemed to be swimming about in the cool water with the greatest ease, my companions began to throw off caps and jackets, and to untie and kick off their boots.

"But we haven't got any towels," cried George Day.

"Towels!" cried one of the others; "why, the sun will dry us in five minutes; come on. What a day for a swim!"

It did look tempting there at the bottom of that green meadow, deep in grass and with the waving trees to hide us from observation, though there was not a house within a mile, nor, saving an occasional barge with a sleepy man hanging over the tiller, a boat to be seen, and as I watched the actions of my companions, I, for the first time in my life, felt the desire to imitate them come on me strongly.

They were not long undressing, one kicking off his things anyhow, another carefully folding them as he took them off, and tucking his socks inside his boots. But careful and careless alike, five minutes had not elapsed before to my delight George Day, who was a boy of about fourteen, ran back a dozen yards from the river's brink and threw up his arms.

"One, two, three, cock warning!" he shouted, ran by me swiftly, and plunged into the river with a tremendous splash.

I felt horrified, but the next moment his head reappeared bobbing about, and he swam along easily and well.

"Oh it's so lovely," he cried. "Come along."

"All right!" cried one of his friends, sitting down on the edge of the bank, and lowering himself in gently, to stand for a few moments up to his arm-pits, and then duck his head down twice, rubbing his eyes to get the water out, and then stooping down and beginning to swim slowly and laboriously, and with a great deal of puffing.

"Oh, what a cowardly way of getting in!" said the third, who stood on the bank, hesitating.

"Well, let's see you, then," cried George Day, who was swimming close at hand. "Jump in."

"Oh, I can't jump in like you do," said the other; "it gives me the headache."

"Why, you're afraid."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Come in, or I'll pull you down."

"There!"

The boy jumped in feet first, and as soon as he came up he struggled to the bank, and puffed and panted and squeezed the water out of his hair.

"Oh my, isn't it jolly cold!" he cried. "It takes all my breath away."

"Cold!" cried the others; "it's lovely. Here you, Dennison, come in."

"I can't swim," I said, feeling a curious shrinking on the one side, quite a temptation on the other.

"And you never will," cried George Day, "if you don't try. It's so easy: look here!"

He swam a few yards with the greatest ease, turned round, and began swimming slowly back.

"Go on--faster," I cried, for I was interested.

"Can't," he cried, "tide runs so sharp. If I didn't mind I should be swept right away. Come in. I'll soon teach you."

I shook my head.

"Oh, you are a fellow. Come on."

"No, I sha'n't bathe," I said in a doubtful tone.

"Oh, here's a chap! I say isn't he a one! Always tied to his mother's apron-string: can't play cricket, or rounders, or football, and can't swim. I say, isn't he a molly."

The others laughed, and being now out of their misery, as they termed it, they were splashing about and enjoying the water, but neither of them went far from the bank.

"I say, why don't you come in?" cried the boy who jumped in feet first. "You will like it so."

"Yes: come along, and try to swim. I can take five strokes. Look here."

I watched while the boy went along puffing and panting, and making a great deal of splashing.

"Get out!" said the other; "he has got one leg on the ground. This is the way to learn to swim. Look here, Dennison, my father showed me."

I looked, and he waded out three or four yards, till the water was nearly over his shoulders.

"Oh, I say, isn't the tide strong!" he cried. "Now, then, look."

He threw up his arms, joined his hands as he stood facing me, made a sort of jump and turned right over, plunging down before me, his legs and feet coming right out, and then for some seconds there was a great deal of turmoil and splashing in the muddy water, and he came up close to the bank.

"That's the way," he cried, panting. "You have to try to get to the bottom, and that gives you confidence."

"I didn't learn that way," shouted George Day. "See me float!"

We all looked, and he turned over on his back, but splashed a good deal to keep himself up. Then all at once he went under, and my heart seemed to stand still, but he came up again directly, shaking his head and spitting.

"Tread water!" he cried; and he seemed to be wading about with difficulty.

"Is it deep there?" I shouted.

"Look," he cried; and raising his hands above his head he sank out of sight, his hands disappearing too, and then he was up again directly and swam to the bank.

"I wish I could swim like you do," I said, looking at him with admiration.

"Well, it's easy enough," he said. "Come along."

"Shall I?"

"Yes. Why, what are you afraid of? Nobody ever comes down here except us boys who want a bathe. Slip off your clothes and have a good dip. You're sure to like it."

"But I've never been used to it," I protested.

"Then get used to it," he cried. "I say, boys, he ought to learn, oughtn't he?"

"Yes," cried the others. "Let's get out and make him."

"Oh, I don't want any making," I said proudly. "But I say--is it dangerous?"

"Dangerous! Hark at him! Ha--ha--ha!" laughed Day. "Why, what are you afraid of? There, jump out of your jacket. I sha'n't stop in much longer, and I want to give you a lesson."

"He's afraid," shouted the other two boys.

"Am I! You'll see," I said sturdily; and, feeling as if I were going to do something very desperate, and with a curious sensation of dread coming all over me, even to the roots of my hair, I rapidly undressed and went to the edge.

"Hooray!" shouted Day. "Now, look here: you can jump in head first, which is the proper way, or sneak in toes first, like they do. Show 'em you aren't afraid. They daren't jump in head first. Come on; I'll take care you don't come up too far out, as you can't swim."

"Would it matter if I did?" I said excitedly.

"Get along with you! no," cried Day.

I hesitated, for the water looked very dreadful, and in spite of the burning sunshine it seemed cold. I felt so helpless too, and would gladly have run back to my clothes and dressed, instead of standing on the brink of the river.

"In with you," shouted Day, backing away from the bank, and the other two boys stood a little way off, with the water up to their chests, grinning and jeering.

"He daren't."

"He's afraid."

"I say, don't you jump in: you'll get wet."

"I say, young 'un, don't. You learn to swim in the washing-tub in warm water."

"Don't you take any notice of them," cried Day. "You jump in. Join your hands above your head and go in with a regular good leap. They can't."

I felt desperate. The water seemed to drive me back, but all the time the jeers of the boys pricked and stirred me on, and at last, obeying Day to the letter, I placed my hands above my head, diver fashion, and took the plunge down into the darkness of the chilly water, which seemed to roar and thunder in my ears, and then, before I knew where I was, I found myself standing up, spitting, half blind, with a curious burning sensation in my nostrils, and a horrible catching of the breath.

"Hooray!" shouted Day. "You've beat them hollow. Now you're out of your misery and can show them. I bet a penny you learn to swim before they can."

This was encouraging, and I began to feel a warm glow of satisfaction in my veins.

"Catch hold of my hand," cried Day.

"No, no," I cried excitedly. "You'll take me where it's deep."

"Get out!" he said. "I shouldn't be such a fool. There, go on then by yourself. Don't go where it's more than up to your chin."

"Oh, no!" I said, stooping and rising, and letting the water, as it ran swiftly, send a curious cold thrill all over me. And then, as I began cautiously to wade about, panting, and with my breath coming in an irregular manner, there was a very pleasurable sensation in it all. First I began to notice how firm and close and heavy the water felt, and how it pressed against me. Then I began to think of how hard it was to walk, the water keeping me back; and directly after, as I stepped suddenly in a soft place all mud, which seemed to ooze up between my toes, the water came to my shoulders, and I felt as if I were being lifted from my feet.

"I say how do you like it?" cried Day, who was swimming a few yards away.

"I don't know," I panted. "I think I like it."

"Oh, you'll soon think it glorious," he replied. "You'll love it as soon as you can swim."

The other two had waded on for some distance against the current, taking no further interest in me now I had made my plunge.

"I should like to swim," I said.

"Oh it's easy enough once you get used to it. That chap down below there swims twice as well as I can, but I don't know who he is."

"What shall I do first?" I asked.

"Oh, throw yourself flat on the water, and kick out your arms and legs like I do--like a frog. You'll soon learn. Now I'm going to swim up as far as they are, and then let myself float back. You'll see me come down. It's so easy. You watch."

"All right!" I said.

"You keep close in to the bank," he shouted; "the tide don't run there. Keep on trying to throw yourself down and kick out like a frog. You'll soon swim."

I nodded, and stood holding on by a tuft of coarse sedge, watching him as he threw himself on his side, and went off pretty close to the bank, where the water was eddying; and the next minute he was beyond a clump of sedge that projected into the river, and I was alone.

I felt no dread now, for the water seemed pleasantly cool, and I began to grow more confident. The buoyancy was delicious, and I found that by holding on with both hands to the long rushes I could float on the water, throwing myself down and keeping close to the surface, but with my legs gradually sinking, till I gave them a kick and rose again.

I amused myself this way for a minute or two, and then, leaving the tuft of rushes, I began to wade slowly along with the water up to my chest, and every now and then I stooped down, so that it came above my shoulders, and struck out with my hands; but I dare not throw myself flat with my legs off the bottom. That was too much to expect, and I had not recovered yet from the desperate plunge in, the recollection of which made me wonder at my temerity.

It was very nice, that first lesson in the water's buoyancy, and as I jumped up, or lowered myself down, or held on by the tufts by the brink, and let myself float, I could not help comparing myself to the soap in the bathtub at home, for that almost floated, but gradually settled down to the bottom, just as my body seemed to do.

"I shall soon swim," I thought to myself; but I felt no inclination to risk the first plunge and begin the struggle. It was far more pleasant to keep on wading there with the water up to my chest, and the delicious sensation of novelty, half fear, half pleasure, making me now venture out a few inches into deeper water, now shrink back towards the bank.

How beautiful it all seemed, with the mellow afternoon sunlight dancing on the water as a puff of warm wind came now and then along the river. The trees were so green and the sky so blue, and the barges, and horses that drew them by the towing-path on the other side, all seemed to add to my pleasure, for the barges seemed to glide along so easily, and they floated, and that was what I wanted to do.

I forgot all about my companions, who must have been a couple of hundred yards higher up the river, while I was wading down.

By degrees I found the water a little deeper, and I shrank from it at first, but I was close to the bank and had only to stretch out my hand to catch hold of a tuft of grass or sedge, and, after the shrinking sensation, it seemed pleasant to have the water higher up about my shoulders. It was so much harder to walk, and I could feel myself almost panting. Beside this there was a nice soft muddy bottom, pleasanter to the feet than the gravel where I had plunged in.

Yes: I thought it a much nicer place there, and I was slowly and cautiously wading on, while all at once I found the water seeming to come in the opposite direction, curving round towards me in a place where the bank was scooped out.

It looked so smooth that I pressed on, taking one step forward, so that the water might rush up against me, and--then I was floating, for my feet found no bottom, and with an excited thrill of delight I felt that I could swim.

Yes; there was no doubt about it. I could swim as easily as George Day, only I was not moving my hands, while the water was bearing me up and carrying me round as in a whirlpool just once, and then I was swept into the tide-way with the water thundering in my ears, a horrible strangling sensation in my nostrils, and a dimness coming over my aching eyes.

I could never remember much about it, only that it was all a confusion of thundering in my ears and rushing sounds. I kept on beating the water with my hands as I had seen a dog beat the surface when he could not swim, and I seemed to throw my head right back as I gasped for breath. But I do not remember that it was very horrible, or that I was drowning, as I surely was. Confusion is the best expression for explaining my sensations as I was swept rapidly down by the tide.

What do I remember next? I hardly know. Only a sensation of some one catching me by the wrist, from somewhere in the darkness that was closing me in. But the next thing after that is, I remember shutting my eyes, because the sun shone in them so fiercely as I lay on my back in the grass, with my head aching furiously, and a strange pain at the back of my neck, as if some one had been trying to break my head off, as a mischievous child would serve a doll.

Just then I heard some one sobbing and crying, and I felt as if I must be asleep and dreaming all this.

"Don't make that row. He's all right, I tell you. He isn't drowned. What's the good of making a row like that!"

It was George Day's voice, and opening my eyes I said hoarsely:

"What's the matter? Is he hurt?"

"No: it's only Harry Leggatt thought you were--you were hurt, you know. Can you get up, and run? All our clothes are two fields off. Come on. The sun will dry you."

I got up, feeling giddy and strange, and the aching at the back of my head was almost unbearable; but I began to walk with Day holding my hand, and after a time--he guiding me, for I felt very stupid--I began to trot; and at last, with my head throbbing and whirring, I found myself standing by my clothes, and my companions helped me to dress.

"You went out too far," Day said. "I told you not, you know."

I was shivering with cold and terribly uncomfortable with putting on my things over my wet chilled body. It had been a hard task too, especially with my socks, but I hardly spoke till we were walking home, and when I did it was during the time I was smoothing my wet hair with a pocket comb lent me by one of the boys.

"How was it I went too far?" I said at last, dolefully.

"I don't know," said Day. "I shouldn't have known anything if that chap Shock hadn't come shouting to us; and when we came, thinking he was going to steal our clothes, he brought us and showed us where he had dragged you out on to the bank. It was him we saw swimming when we first went in."

"Where is he now?" I said wearily. "Let's ask him all about it."

"I don't know," replied Day. "He ran off to dress himself, I suppose, and he didn't come back. But I say, you're better now."

"Oh yes!" I said, "I'm better now;" and by degrees the walk in the warm afternoon sunshine seemed to make me feel more myself; beside which I was dry when I got back home, but very low-spirited and dull.

I did not say anything, for my mother was lying down, and Mrs Beeton never invited my confidence; beside which I felt rather conscience-stricken, and after having my solitary tea I went to the window, feeling warmer, and less disposed to shiver.

And as I sat there about seven o'clock on that warm summer evening it almost seemed as if my afternoon's experience had been a dream, and that Shock had not swum out and saved me from drowning, for there he was under one of the pear-trees, with a switch and a piece of clay, throwing pellets at our house, one of which came right in at the open window close by my cheek, and struck against Mrs Beeton's cheffonier door. _

Read next: Chapter 5. Beginning A New Life

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