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Brownsmith's Boy: A Romance in a Garden, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 17. What Became Of The Rope |
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_ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. WHAT BECAME OF THE ROPE I nearly fell headlong down as I reached the stairs, for my foot went through a hole in the boards, but I recovered myself and began to run down as fast as I dared, on account of the rickety state of the steps, while Ike came clumping down after me, and we could hear the big ruffian's voice saying something loudly as we hurried from flight to flight. There were knots of women on the different landings and at the bottom of the stairs, and they were all talking excitedly; but only to cease and look curiously at us as we went by. There was quite a crowd, too, of men, women, and children in the court below as we left the doorway; but Ike's bold manner and the decided way in which he strode out with me, looking sharply from one to the other, put a stop to all opposition, even if it had been intended. There were plenty of scowling, menacing looks, and there was a little hooting from the men, but they gave way, and in another minute we were out of the court and in the dirty street, with a troop of children following us and the people on either side looking on. "But, Ike," I said in a despairing tone, "we haven't got the rope after all." "No," he said; "but I've got you out o' that place safe, and I haven't got much hurt myself, and that's saying a deal. Talk about savages and wild beasts abroad! why, they're nothing." "I didn't see any policemen, Ike," I said, as I thought of their power. "More didn't I," he replied with a grim smile. "They don't care much about going down these sort o' places; no more don't I. We're well out of that job, my lad. You didn't ought to have gone." "But that boy was running off with the best cart rope, Ike," I said despondently, "and I was trying to get it back, and now it's gone. What will Mr Brownsmith say?" "Old Brownsmith won't say never a word," said Ike, as we trudged on along a more respectable street. "Oh, but he will," I cried. "He is so particular about the ropes." "So he be, my lad. Here, let's brush you down; you're a bit dirty." "But he will," I said, as I submitted to the operation. "Not he," said Ike. "Them police is in the right of it. I'm all of a shiver, now that bit of a burst's over;" and he wiped his brow. "You are, Ike?" I said wonderingly. "To be sure I am, my lad. I was all right there, and ready to fight; but now it's over and we're well out of it, I feel just as I did when the cart tipped up and all the baskets come down atop of you." "I am glad you feel like that," I said. "Why?" he cried sharply. "Because it makes me feel that I was not such a terrible coward after all." "But you were," he said, giving me a curious look. "Oh, yes: about as big a coward as ever I see." I did not understand why I was so very great a coward, but he did not explain, and I trudged on by him. "I say, what would you have done if I hadn't come?" "I don't know," I said. "I suppose they would have let me go at last. They got all my money." "They did?" "Yes," I said dolefully; "and then there's the rope. What will Mr Brownsmith say?" "Nothin' at all," said Ike. "But he will," I cried again. "No he won't, because we'll buy a new one 'fore we goes back." "I thought of that," I said, "but I've no money now." "Oh, all right! I have," he said. "We may think ourselves well out of a bad mess, my lad; and I don't know as we oughtn't to go to the police, but we haven't no time for that. There'll be another load o' strawb'ys ready by the time we get back, and I shall have to come up again to-night. Strawb'ys sold well to-day. No: we've no time for the police." "They deserve to be taken up," I said. "Ay, they do, my boy; but folks don't get all they deserve." "Or I should be punished for letting that boy steal the rope." "Hang the rope!" he said crustily. "I mean, hang the boy or his father, and that's what some of 'em'll come to," he cried grimly, "if they don't mind. They're a bad lot down that court. Lor' a mussy me! I'd sooner live in one of our sheds on some straw, with a sack for a pillow, than be shut up along o' these folk in them courts." "But they wouldn't have hurt me, Ike?" I said. "I dunno, my lad. P'r'aps they would, p'r'aps they wouldn't. They might have kept you and made a bad un of yer. Frightened you into it like." I shook my head. "Ah! you don't know, my lad. How much did they get?" "Two shillings and ninepence halfpenny," I said dolefully. "And a nearly new rope. Ah, it's a bad morning's work for your first journey." "It is, Ike," I said; "but I didn't know any better. How did you know where I was?" "How did I know? Why, Shock saw you and followed you, and come back and fetched me, when I was staring at the cart and wondering what had gone of you two." "Where is he now?" I asked. "What, Shock? Oh, I don't know. He's a queer chap. P'r'aps they've got him instead of you." I stopped short and looked at him, but saw directly that he was only joking, and went on again: "You don't think that," I said quickly; "for if you did you would not have come away. Do you think he has gone back to the cart?" "Oh, there's no knowing," he replied. "P'r'aps when we get back there won't be any cart; some one will have run away with it. They're rum uns here in London." "Why, you haven't left the cart alone, Ike," I cried. "That's a good one, that is," he exclaimed. "You haven't left the cart alone! Why, you and Shock did." "Yes," I said; "but--" "There, come and let's see," he said gruffly. "We should look well, we two, going back home without a cart, and old Bonyparty took away and cut up for goodness knows what and his skin made into leather. Come along." We walked quickly, for it seemed as if this was going to be a day all misfortunes; but as we reached the market again I found that Ike had not left the cart untended, for a man was there by the horse, and the big whip curved over in safety from where it was stuck. "Seen anything of our other boy?" said Ike as we reached the cart. "No," was the reply. "Hadn't we better go back and look for him?" I said anxiously. "Well, I don't know," said Ike, rubbing one ear; "he ain't so much consequence as you." "I've been to Paris and I've been to Do-ho-ver." "Why, there he is," I cried; and, climbing up the wheel, there lay Shock on his back right on the top of the baskets, and as soon as he saw my face he grinned and then turned his back. "He's all right," I said as I descended; and just then there was a creaking noise among the baskets, and Shock's head appeared over the edge. "Here y'are," he cried. "That there tumbled out o' window, and I ketched it and brought it here." As he spoke he threw down the coil of nearly new rope, and I felt so delighted that I could have gone up to him and shaken hands. "Well, that's a good un, that is," said Ike with a chuckle. "I am 'bout fine and glad o' that." He took the rope and tied it up to the ladder again, and then turned to me. "Come along and get some breakfast, my lad," he said. "I dessay you're fine and hungry." "But how about Shock?" "Oh, we'll send him out some. Here, you, Shock, look after the cart and horse. Don't you leave 'em," Ike added to the man; and then we made our way to a coffee-house, where Ike's first act, to my great satisfaction, was to procure a great mug of coffee and a couple of rolls, which he opened as if they had been oysters, dabbed a lump of butter in each, and then put under his arm. "He don't deserve 'em," he growled, "for coming; but he did show me where you was." "And he saved the rope," I said. Ike nodded. "You sit down till I come back, my lad," he said; and then he went off, to return in a few minutes to face me at a table where we were regaled with steaming coffee and grilled haddocks. "This is the best part of the coming to market, my lad," he said, "only it's a mistake." "What is?" I asked. "Haddocks, my lad. They're a trickier kind o' meat than bloaters. I ordered this here for us 'cause it seemed more respectable like, as I'd got company, than herrin'; but it's a mistake." "But this is very nice," I said, beginning very hungrily upon the hot roll and fish, but with a qualm in my mind as to how it was to be paid for. "Ye-es," said Ike, after saying "soup" very loudly as he took a long sip of his coffee; "tidyish, my lad, tidyish, but you see one gets eddicated to a herring, and knows exactly where every bone will be. These things seems as if the bones is all nowhere and yet they're everywhere all the time, and so sure as you feel safe and take a bite you find a sharp pynte, just like a trap laid o' purpose to ketch yer." "Well, there are a good many little bones, certainly," I said. "Good many! Thick as slugs after a shower. There's one again, sharp as a needle. Wish I'd a red herrin', that I do." "I say, Ike," I said suddenly, as I was in the middle of my breakfast, "I wish I could make haste and grow into a man." "Do you, now?" he said with a derisive laugh. "Ah! I shouldn't wonder. If you'd been a man I s'pose you'd have pitched all those rough uns out o' window, eh?" "I should have liked to be able to take care of myself," I said. "Without old Ike, eh, my lad?" "I don't mean that," I said; "only I should like to be a man." "Instead o' being very glad you're a boy with everything fresh and bright about you. Red cheeks and clean skin and all your teeth, and all the time to come before you, instead of having to look back and think you're like an old spade--most wore out." "Oh, but you're so strong, Ike! I should like to be a man." "Like to be a boy, my lad, and thank God you are one," said old Ike, speaking as I had never heard him speak before. "It's natur', I s'pose. All boys wishes they was men, and when they're men they look back on that happiest time of their lives when they was boys and wishes it could come over again." "Do they, Ike?" I said. "I never knew a man who didn't," said Ike, making the cups dance on the table by giving it a thump with his fist. "Why, Master Grant, I was kicked about and hit when I was a boy more'n ever a boy was before, but all that time seems bright and sunshiny to me." "But do you think Shock's happy?" I said; "he's a boy, and has no one to care about him." "Happy! I should just think he is. All boys has troubles that they feels bad at the time, but take 'em altogether they're as happy as can be. Shock's happy enough his way or he wouldn't have been singing all night atop of the load. There, you're a boy, and just you be thankful that you are, my lad; being a boy's about as good a thing as there is." We had nearly finished our breakfast when Ike turned on me sharply. "Why, you don't look as if you was glad to be a boy," he said. "I was thinking about what Mr Brownsmith will say when he knows I've been in such trouble," I replied. "Ah, he won't like it! But I suppose you ain't going to tell him?" "Yes," I said, "I shall tell him." Ike remained silent for a few minutes, and sat slowly filling his pipe. At last, as we rose to go, after Ike had paid the waitress, he said to me slowly: "Sometimes doing right ain't pleasant and doing wrong is. It's quite right to go and tell Old Brownsmith and get blowed up, and it would be quite wrong not to tell him, but much the nystest. Howsoever, you tell him as soon as we get back. He can't kill yer for that, and I don't s'pose he'll knock yer down with the kitchen poker and then kick you out. You've got to risk it." I did tell Old Brownsmith all my trouble when we reached home, and he listened attentively and nodding his head sometimes. Then he said softly, "Ah!" and that was all. But I heard him scold Master Shock tremendously for going off from his work without leave. Shock had been looking on from a distance while I was telling Old Brownsmith, and this put it into his head, I suppose, that I had been speaking against him, for during the next month he turned his back whenever he met me, and every now and then, if I looked up suddenly, it was to see him shaking his fist at me, while his hair seemed to stand up more fiercely than ever out of his crownless straw hat like young rhubarb thrusting up the lid from the forcing-pot put on to draw the stalks. _ |
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