Chapter 6. I Decide And Go To Work

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_ CHAPTER SIX. I DECIDE AND GO TO WORK

I felt that I ought to write to my uncles and cousins, and I consulted Mrs Beeton about it.

Mrs Beeton put her head on one side and tried how far she could get her arm down the black worsted stocking she was darning, looking at me meditatively the while.

"Well, do you know," she said, "if I were you, my dear, I would write; for it do seem strange to leave you here, as I may say, all alone."

"Then I will write," I said. "I want to know what I am going to be."

"Oh! I should be a soldier, like your dear pa was, if I were you," she said; "and I'd go into a regiment where they wore blue and silver-blue and silver always looks so well."

"I don't want to be a soldier," I said rather sadly, for my fancy did at one time go strongly in that direction; but it did not seem so very long since the news came that my poor father had been killed in a skirmish with the Indians; and I remembered how my poor mother had thrown her arms round my neck and sobbed, and made me promise that I would never think of being a soldier. And then it seemed as if after that news she had gradually drooped and faded, just as a flower might upon its stalk, till two years had gone by, and then all happened as I have related to you, and I was left pretty well alone in the world.

"I'm sorry you don't want to be a soldier," said Mrs Beeton, looking at me through her glasses, with her head a little more on one side. "If I had been a young gentleman I should have been a horse-soldier. I wouldn't be a sailor if I was you, sir."

"Why not?" I said.

"Because they do smell so of tar, and they're so rough and boisterous."

"I think I shall be a gardener," I said.

"A what?"

"A gardener."

"My dear boy!" she cried in horror, "whatever put that in your head? Why, you couldn't be anything worse. There!--I do declare you startled me so I've stuck the needle right into my finger, and it bleeds!"

We had many arguments about the matter while I was waiting for answers to my letters, for no one came down to see me.

Uncle Thomas said he was going to see about my being put in a good public school, but there was no hurry; and perhaps it would be better to wait and see what Uncle Johnson meant to do, for he should not like to offend him, as he was much better off, and it might be doing me harm.

Uncle Johnson wrote a very short letter, saying that I had better write to my Uncle Frederick.

Second-cousin Willis did not reply for a week, and he said it was the duty of one of my uncles to provide for me; and he should make a point of bringing them both to book if they did not see about something for me before long.

One or two other relatives wrote to me that they were not in circumstances to help me, and that if they were strong, stout boys such as I was, they would try and get a situation, for it was no disgrace to earn my living; and they wished me well.

I took all these letters over to Mr Brownsmith, and he read them day after day as they came; but he did not say a word, and it made my heart sink, as it seemed to me that he was repenting of his offer.

And so a month slipped by; and when I was not reading or writing I found myself gazing out of the window at the pleasant old garden, where the fruit was being gathered day after day. The time was passing, and the chances of my going over to Brownsmith's seemed to me growing remote, while I never seemed to have seen so much of Shock.

It appeared to me that he must know of my disappointment; for whenever he saw me at the window, and could do so unseen, he threw dabs of clay, or indulged in derisive gestures more extravagant than ever.

I affected to take no heed of these antics, but they annoyed me all the same; and I found myself wishing at times that Mr Brownsmith would take me, if only to give me a chance of some day thrashing that objectionable boy.

I was sitting very disconsolately at the window one day, with a table on which I had been writing drawn up very close to the bay, when I heard a footstep below, and looking down there was Old Brownsmith, who nodded to me familiarly and came up.

"Well," he said, "how are you? Nice weather for my work."

He sat down, pursed up his lips, and looked about him for some minutes without speaking.

"News," he said, "any news?"

"No, sir," I replied.

"Humph! Not going to make you manager of the Bank of England or Master of the Mint--eh?"

"No, sir. I have had no more news."

"I was afraid you wouldn't," he continued. "Well, I told you the other day not to be rash, for there was plenty of time."

"Yes, sir."

"Now I'm going to change my tune."

I jumped up excitedly.

"Yes, change my tune," he said. "You're wasting time now. What do you say after thinking it over?--like to come?"

"May I, sir?" I cried joyfully.

"I'm a man of my word, my boy," he replied drily.

"Oh! thank you, sir!" I cried. "I shall always be grateful to you for this, and--"

"Gently, gently," he said, interrupting me. "Never promise too much. Acts are better than words, my boy. There!--good-bye! See you soon, I suppose?"

I would have gone with him then, but he told me to take things coolly and get what I wanted packed up.

"Why, Grant, my boy," he said, laughing, "you'll have to look over the loading of some of my carts when I'm not there; and if you do them in that hurried fashion how will it be done?"

I felt the rebuke and hung my head.

"There!--I'm not finding fault," he said kindly; "I only want you to be business-like, for I have to teach you to be a business man."

He then went away and left me to settle up matters with Mrs Beeton, who began to cry when I told her I was going, and where.

"It seems too dreadful," she sobbed, "and you so nicely brought up. What am I to say to your friends when they come?"

"Tell them where I am," I said, smiling.

"Ah, my dear! you may laugh," she cried; "but it's a very dreadful life you are going to, and I expect I shall see you back before the week's out."

My clothes did not fill the small school-box, but I had a good many odds, and ends and books that weighed up and made it too heavy to carry, as I had intended; so I had to go over to the garden, meaning to ask for help.

I fully expected to meet Shock about the sheds or in one of the carts or wagons, but the first person I set eyes on was Old Brownsmith himself--I say _Old_ Brownsmith, for everybody called him so.

He was wearing a long blue serge apron, as he came towards me with his open knife in his teeth and a quantity of Russia matting in his hands, tearing and cutting it into narrow lengths.

"Well, young fellow?" he said as coolly as if no conversation had passed between us.

"I've come, sir, for good," I said sharply.

"I hope you have," he replied drily; "but is that all of you? Where's your tooth-brush and comb, and clean stockings?"

"I wanted to bring my box, sir," I said, "but it was too heavy. Would any of the men come and fetch it?"

"Ask 'em," he said abruptly, and he turned away. This seemed cold and strange; but I knew him to be rather curious and eccentric in his ways, so I walked to one of the cart-sheds and looked about for a man to help me.

I thought I saw some one enter the shed; but when I got inside no one was there, as far as I could see--only piles of great baskets reaching from floor to ceiling.

Disappointed, I was coming away, when in the gloom at the other end there seemed to be something that was not basket; and taking a few steps forward I made out that it was the boy Shock standing close up against the baskets, with his face away from me.

I stood thinking what I should do. I was to be in the same garden with this lad, who was always sneering at me; and I felt that if I let him have the upper hand he would make my life very much more miserable than it had been lately.

My mind was made up in a moment, and with a decision for which I had not given myself credit I went right in and stood behind him.

"Shock!" I cried; but the boy only gave himself a twitch as if a spasm had run through him, and did not move.

"Do you hear, sir?" I said sharply. "Come here; I want you to help carry my box."

Still he did not move, and I felt that if I did not master him he would me.

"Do you hear what I say, sir?" I cried in my most angry tones; "come with me and fetch my box."

He leaped round so quickly that he made me start, and stood glaring at me as if about to strike.

"You must come and fetch my box," I said, feeling all the while a good deal of dread of the rough, fierce-looking boy.

I was between him and the wide door; and he stooped and looked first one side of me and then the other, as if about to dart by. But, growing bolder, I took a step forward and laid my hand upon his shoulder.

Up flew his arms as if about to strike mine away, but he caught my eye and understood it wrongly. He must have thought I was gazing resolutely at him, but I really was not. To my great satisfaction, though, he stepped forward, drooping his arms and hanging his head, walking beside me out into the open yard, where we came suddenly upon Old Brownsmith, who looked at me sharply, nodded his head, and then went on.

I led the way, and Shock half-followed, half-walked beside me, and we had just reached the gate when Old Brownsmith shouted:

"Take the barrow."

Shock trotted back like a dog; and as I watched him, thinking what a curious half-savage lad he was, and how much bigger and stronger than I was, he came back with the light basket barrow, trundling it along.

We went in silence as far as my old home, where Mrs Beeton held up her hands as she saw my companion, and drew back, holding the door open for us to get the corded box which stood in the floor-clothed hall.

Shock put down the barrow; and then his mischief-loving disposition got the better of his sulkiness, and stooping down he astonished me and made Mrs Beeton shriek by taking a leap up the two steps, like a dog, and going on all-fours to the box.

"Pray, pray, take him away, Master Dennison!" the poor woman cried in real alarm; "and do, pray, mind yourself--the boy's mad!"

"Oh, no; he won't hurt you," I said, taking one end of the box. But Shock growled, shook it free, lifted it from the floor, and before I could stop him, bumped it down the steps on to the barrow with a bang, laid it fairly across, and then seizing the handles went off at a trot.

"I can't stop," I said quickly; "I must go and look after him."

"Yes, but pray take care, my dear. He bites. He bit a boy once very badly, and he isn't safe."

Not very pleasant news, but I could not stay to hear more, and, running after the barrow, I caught up to it and laid my hand upon one side of the box as if to keep it steady.

I did not speak for a minute, and Shock subsided into a walk; then, turning to him and looking in his morose, ill-used face:

"I've never thanked you yet for getting me out of the river."

The box gave a bump and a bound, for the handles of the barrow were raised very high and Shock began to run.

At the end of a minute I stopped him, and as soon as we were going on steadily I made the same remark.

But up went the barrow and box again and off we trotted. When, after stopping him for the second time, I made an attempt to get into conversation and to thank him, Shock banged down the legs of the barrow, looking as stolid and heavy as if he were perfectly deaf, threw open the gate, and ran the barrow up to the house-door.

"Oh! here's your baggage, then!" said Old Brownsmith. "Bring it in, Shock; set it on end there in the passage. We'll take it up after tea. Come along."

Shock lifted in the box before I could help him; and then seizing the barrow-handles, with his back to me, he let out a kick like a mule and caught me in the calf, nearly sending me down.

"Hallo! hold on, my lad," said Old Brownsmith, who had not seen the cause; and of course I would not tell tales; but I made up my mind to repay Mr Shock for that kick and for his insolent obstinacy the first time the opportunity served.

I followed my master into a great shed that struck cool as we descended to the floor, which was six or seven feet below the surface, being like a cellar opened and then roofed in with wood. Here some seven or eight women were busy tying up rosebuds in market bunches, while a couple of men went and came with baskets which they brought in full and took out empty.

The scent was delicious; and as we went past the women, whose busy fingers were all hard at work, Old Brownsmith stopped where another man kept taking up so many bunches of the roses in each hand and then diving his head and shoulders into a great oblong basket, leaving the roses at the bottom as he came out, and seized a piece of chalk and made a mark upon a slate.

"Give him the slate, Ike," said Old Brownsmith. "He'll tally 'em off for you now. Look here, Grant, you keep account on the slate how many bunches are put in each barge, and how many barges are filled."

"Yes, sir," I said, taking the slate and chalk with trembling fingers, for I felt flushed and excited.

"This is the way--you put down a stroke like that for every dozen, and one like that for a barge. Do you see?"

"Yes, sir," I said, "I can do that; but when am I to put down a barge?"

"When it's full, of course, and covered in--lidded up."

"But shall we fill a barge to-night, sir?"

"Well, I hope so--a good many," said Old Brownsmith. "Will he go down to the river with me to show me where, sir?"

"River!--show you what, my boy?"

"The barges we are to fill, sir."

"Whoo-oop!"

It was Ike made this peculiar noise. It answered in him for a laugh. Then he dived down into the great oblong basket and stopped there.

"You don't know what a barge is," said Old Brownsmith kindly.

"Oh yes, sir, I do!" I replied.

"Not one of our barges, my lad," he said, laying his hand upon my shoulder. "We call these large baskets barges. You'll soon pick up the names. There, go on."

I at once began to keep count of the bunches, Old Brownsmith seeming to take no farther notice of me, while Ike the packer kept on laying in dozen after dozen, once or twice pretending to lay them in and bringing the bunches out again, as if to balk me, but all in a grim serious way, as if it was part of his work.

I was so busy and excited that I hardly had time to enjoy the sweet scent of the flowers in that cool, soft pit; but in a short time I was so far accustomed that I had an eye for the men bringing in fresh supplies, just cut, and for the women who, working at rough benches, were so cleverly laying the buds in a half-moon shape between their fingers and thumbs, the flowers being laid flat upon the bench. Then a second row was laid upon the first, a piece of wet matting was rapidly twisted round, tied, and the stalks cut off regularly with one pressure of the knife.

It seemed to me as if enough of the beautiful pink buds nestling in their delicate green leaves were being tied up to supply all London, but I was exceedingly ignorant then.

Mine was not a hard task; and as I attended to it, whenever Ike, who was packing, had his eyes averted from me, I had a good look at him. I had often seen him before, but only at a distance, and at a distance Ike certainly looked best.

I know he could not help it, but decidedly Ike, Old Brownsmith's chief packer and carter, was one of the strongest and ugliest men I ever saw. He was a brawny, broad-shouldered fellow of about fifty, with iron-grey hair; and standing out of his brown-red face, half-way between fierce, stiff, bushy whiskers, was a tremendous aquiline nose. When his hat was off, as he removed it from time to time to give it a rub, you saw that he had a very shiny bald head--in consequence, as I suppose, of so much polishing. His eyes were deeply set but very keen-looking, and his mouth when shut had one aspect, when open another. When open it seemed as if it was the place where a few very black teeth were kept. When closed it seemed as if made to match his enormous nose; the line formed by the closed lips, being continued right down on either side in a half-moon or parenthesis curve to the chin, which was always in motion.

A closer examination showed that Ike had only a mouth of the ordinary dimensions, the appearance of size being caused by two marks of caked tobacco-juice, a piece of that herb being always between his teeth.

This habit he afterwards told me he had learned when he was a soldier, and he still found it useful and comforting in the long night watches he had to take.

I have said that his eyes were piercing, and so it seemed to me at first; but in a short time, as I grew more accustomed to him, I found that they were only piercing one at a time, for as if nature had intended to make him as ugly as possible, Ike's eyes acted independently one of the other, and I often found him looking at me with one, and down into the barge basket with the other.

Old Brownsmith had no sooner left the pit than Ike seized a couple of handsful of roses, plunged with them into the basket, bobbed up, and looked at me with one eye, just as he caught me noticing him intently.

"Rum un, ain't I?" he said, gruffly, and taking me terribly aback. "Not much to look at, eh?"

"You look very strong," I said, evasively.

"Strong, eh? Yes, and so I am, my lad. Good un to go."

Then he plunged into the barge again and uttered a low growl, came up again and uttered another. I have not the least idea what he meant by it, though I suppose he expected me to answer, for to my great confusion he rose up suddenly and stared at me.

"Eh?" he said.

"I didn't speak, sir," I said.

"No, but I did. Got 'em all down? Go on then, one barge, fresh un this is: you didn't put down the other."

I hastened to rectify my error, and then we went steadily on with the task, the women being remarkably silent, as if it took all their energy to keep their fingers going so fast, till all at once Old Brownsmith appeared at the door and beckoned me to him.

"Tea's ready, my lad," he said; "let's have it and get out again, for there's a lot to do this evening."

I followed him into a snug old-fashioned room that seemed as if it had been furnished by a cook with genteel ideas, or else by a lady who was fond of a good kitchen, for this room was neither one nor the other; it had old-fashioned dining-room chairs and a carpet, but the floor was brick, and the fireplace had an oven and boiler. Then there was a dresser on one side, but it was mahogany, and in place of ordinary plates and dishes, and jugs swinging from hooks, this dresser was ornamented with old china and three big punch-bowls were turned up on the broad part upside down.

There was a comfortable meal spread, with a fresh loaf and butter, and a nice large piece of ham. There was fruit, too, on the table, and a crisp lettuce, all in my honour as I afterwards found, for my employer or guardian, or whatever I am to style him, rarely touched any of the produce of his own grounds excepting potatoes, and these he absolutely loved, a cold potato for breakfast or tea being with him a thorough relish.

"Make yourself at home, Grant, my boy," he said kindly. "I want you to settle down quickly. We shall have to work hard, but you'll enjoy your meals and sleep all the better."

I thanked him, and tried to do as he suggested, and to eat as if I enjoyed my meal; but I did not in the least, and I certainly did not feel in the slightest degree at home.

"What time did you go to bed over yonder, Grant?" said the old gentleman.

"Ten o'clock, sir."

"And what time did you get up?"

"Eight, sir."

"Ugh, you extravagant young dog!" he cried. "Ten hours' sleep! You'll have to turn over a new leaf. Nine o'clock's my bedtime, if we are not busy, and I like to be out in the garden again by four or five. What do you say to that?"

I did not know what to say, so I said nothing.

We did not sit very long over our tea, for there was the cart to load up with flowers for the morning's market, and soon after I was watching Ike carefully packing in the great baskets along the bottom of the cart, and then right over the shafts upon the broad projecting ladder, and also upon that which was fitted in at the back.

"You keep account, Grant," said Old Brownsmith to me, and I entered the number of baskets and their contents upon my slate, the old gentleman going away and leaving me to transact this part of the business myself, as I believe now, to give me confidence, for he carefully counted all the baskets and checked them off when he came back.

Ike squinted at me fiercely several times as he helped to hoist in several baskets, and for some time he did not speak, but at last he stopped, took off his hat, drew a piece of cabbage leaf from the crown, and carefully wiped his bald head with it, looking comically at me the while.

"Green silk," he said gruffly, as he replaced the leaf. "Nature's own growth. Never send 'em to the wash. Throw 'em away and use another."

I laughed at the idea, and this pleased Ike, who looked at me from top to toe.

"You couldn't load a cart," he said at last.

"Couldn't I?" I replied. "Why not? It seems easy enough."

"Seems easy! of course it does, youngster. Seems easy to take a spade and dig all day, but you try, and I'm sorry for your back and jyntes."

"But you've only got to put the baskets in the cart," I argued.

"Only got to put the baskets in the cart!" grumbled Ike. "Hark at him!"

"That's what you've been doing," I continued.

"What I've been doing!" he said. "I'm sorry for the poor horse if you had the loading up. A cart ain't a wagon."

"Well, I know that," I said, "a wagon has four wheels, and a cart two."

"Send I may live," cried Ike. "Why, he is a clever boy. He knows a cart's got two wheels and a wagon four."

He said this in a low serious voice, as if talking to himself, and admiring my wisdom; but of course I could see that it was his way of laughing at me, and I hastened to add:

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

"Yes, I know what you mean, but you don't know what I mean, and if you're so offle clever you'd best teach me, for I can't teach you."

"But I want you to teach me," I cried. "I've come here to learn. What is there in particular in loading a cart?"

"Oh, you're ever so much more clever than I am," he grumbled. "Here, len's a hand with that barge."

This was to the man who was helping him, and who now seized hold of another basket, which was hoisted into its place.

Then more baskets were piled up, the light flower barges being put at the top, till the cart began to look like a mountain as it stood there with the shafts and hind portion supported by pieces of wood.

"Look ye here," said Ike, waving his arms about from the top of the pile of baskets, and addressing me as if from a rostrum. "When you loads a cart, reck'lect as all your weight's to come on your axle-tree. Your load's to be all ballancy ballancy, you see, so as you could move it up or down with a finger."

"Oh yes, I see!" I cried.

"Oh yes, you see--now I've telled you," said Ike. "People as don't know how to load a cart spyles their hosses by loading for'ard, and getting all the weight on the hoss's back, or loading back'ards, and getting all the pull on the hoss's belly-band."

"Yes, I see clearly now," I said.

"Of course you do! Now you see my load here's so reg'lated that when I take them props away after the horse is in, all that weight'll swing on the axle-tree, and won't hurt the horse at all. That's what I call loading up to rights."

"You've got too much weight behind, Ike," said Old Brownsmith, who came up just then, and was looking on from opposite one wheel of the cart.

"No, no, she's 'bout right," growled Ike to himself.

"You had better put another barge on in front. Lay it flat," cried Old Brownsmith, whose eye was educated by years of experience, and I stood back behind the cart, listening curiously to the conversation. "Yes, you're too heavy behind."

"No, no, she's 'bout right, master," growled Ike, "right as can be. Just you look here."

He took a step back over the baskets, and I heard the prop that supported the cart fall, as Ike yelled out--"Run, boy, run!"

I did not run, for two reasons. Firstly, I was too much confused to understand my danger. Secondly, I had not time, for in spite of Ike's insistence that the balance was correct the shafts flew up; Ike threw himself down on the baskets, and the top layer of flat round sieves that had not yet been tied like the barges, came gliding off like a landslip, and before I knew where I was, I felt myself stricken down, half buried by the wicker avalanche, and all was blank. _

Read next: Chapter 7. I Make A Friend

Read previous: Chapter 5. Beginning A New Life

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