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Quicksilver; The Boy With No Skid To His Wheel, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 31. Times Of Delight! |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. TIMES OF DELIGHT! "Here we are!" said Bob Dimsted, as he sat handling the sculls very fairly, and, as the stream was with them, sending the boat easily along. "I think we managed that first-rate." Dexter made no reply, for he had his teeth fast set, and his lips pressed together to keep the former from chattering, but he thought a great deal, and found himself wondering what Bob had done toward getting the boat. With the covering up of his goose-skinned body, and the return of some of his surface heat, the terrible fit of despondency began to pass away, and Dexter felt less ready to sit down in helpless misery at the bottom of the boat. "Getting nice and warm, ain'tcher?" "Not very, yet." "Ah, you soon will be, and if you ain't you shall take one of these here oars. That'll soon put you right. But what a while you was!" "I--I couldn't help it," shivered Dexter, drawing in his breath with a quick hissing sound; "the chain was so hard to undo." "Ah, well, never mind now," said Bob, "only, if we'd got to do it again I should go myself." Dexter made no protest, but he thought it sounded rather ungrateful. He was too busy, though, with buttons, and getting his fingers to work in their regular way, to pay much heed, and he went on dressing. "I say, what a jolly long while you are!" continued Bob. "Oh, and look here! I'd forgot again: why didn't you bring your bundle with all your clothes and things, eh!" "Because they weren't mine." "Well, you are a chap! Not yourn? Why, they were made for you, and you wore 'em. They can't be anybody else's. I never see such a fellow as you are! I brought all mine." It was an easy task, judging from the size of the bundle dimly seen in the bottom of the boat, but Dexter said nothing. "How much money have you got?" said Bob, after a pause. "None at all." "What?" There was utter astonishment in Bob Dimsted's tones as he sat motionless, with the sculls balanced on the rowlocks, staring wildly through the gloom, as Dexter now sat down and fought hard with an obstinate stocking, which refused to go on over a wet foot--a way stockings have at such times. "Did you say you hadn't got any money?" cried Bob. "Yes. I sent it all in a letter to pay for the boat in case we kept it." "What, for this boat?" cried Bob. "Yes." "And you call yourself a mate?" cried Bob, letting the scull blades drop in the water with a splash, and pulling hard for a few strokes. "Well!" "I felt obliged to," said Dexter, whose perseverance was rewarded by a complete victory over the first stocking, when the second yielded it with a better grace, and he soon had on his shoes, and then began to dry his ears by thrusting his handkerchief-covered finger in the various windings of each gristly maze. "Felt obliged to?" "Yes, of course. We couldn't steal the boat." "Yah, steal it! Who ever said a word about stealing? We've only borrowed it, and if we don't send it back, old Danby's got lots of money, and he can buy another. But, got no money! Well!" "But we don't want money, do we!" said Dexter, whom the excitement as well as his clothes now began to make comparatively warm. "I thought we were going where we could soon make our fortunes." "Yes, of course we are, stoopid; but you can't make fortunes without money. You can't ketch fish if yer ain't got no bait." This was a philosophical view of matters which took Dexter aback, and he faltered rather as he spoke next, this time with his ears dry, his hair not so very wet, and his jacket buttoned up to his chin. "I'm very sorry, Bob," he said gently. "Sorry! Being sorry won't butter no parsneps," growled Bob. "No," said Dexter mildly, "but we haven't got any parsneps to butter." "No, nor ain't likely to have," growled Bob, and then returning to a favourite form of expression: "And you call yourself a mate! Here, come and kitch holt of this scull." Dexter sat down on the thwart, and took the scull after Bob had contrived to give him a spiteful blow on the back with it before he extricated it from its rowlock. Dexter winced slightly, but he bore the pain without a word, and began rowing as well as a boy does row who handles a scull for the first time in his life. And there he sat, gazing to right and left at the dark banks of the river, and the stars above and reflected below, as they went slowly on along the bends and reaches of the little river, everything looking strangely distorted and threatening to the boy's unaccustomed eyes. The exercise soon began to bring a general feeling of warmth to his chilled frame, and as the inward helplessness passed away it began to give place to an acute sense of fear, and his eyes wandered here and there in search of Sir James Danby, the doctor, and others more terrible, who would charge them with stealing the boat in spite of his protests and the money he had left behind. And all the time to make his trip more pleasant he had to suffer from jarring blows upon the spine, given by the top of Bob's oar. In nearly every case this was intentional, and Bob chuckled to himself, as with the customary outburst of his class he began to abuse his companion. "Why don't yer mind and keep time!" he cried. "Who's to row if you go on like that? I never see such a stoopid." "All right, Bob, I'll mind," said Dexter, with all the humility of an ignorance which kept him from knowing that as he was rowing stroke Bob should have taken his time from him. The blows on the back had two good effects, however: they gratified Bob, who had the pleasure of tyrannising over and inflicting pain upon his comrade, while Dexter gained by the rapid increase of warmth, and was most likely saved from a chill and its accompanying fever. Still that night trip was not pleasant, for when Bob was not grumbling about the regularity of Dexter's stroke, he had fault to find as to his pulling too hard or not hard enough, and so sending the head of the boat toward the right or left bank of the stream. In addition, the young bully kept up a running fire of comment on his companion's shortcomings. "I never see such a mate," he said. "No money and no clothes. I say," he added at the end of one grumbling fit, "what made you want to run away!" "I don't know," said Dexter sadly. "I suppose it was because you persuaded me." "Oh, come, that's a good un," said Bob. "Why, it was you persuaded me! You were always wanting to go away, and you said we could take Danby's boat, and go right down to the sea." "No!" protested Dexter; "it was you said that." "Me!" cried Bob. "Oh, come, I like that, 'pon my word I do. It was you always begging of me to go, and to take you with me. Why, I shouldn't never have thought of such a thing if you hadn't begun it." Dexter was silent, and now getting thoroughly warm he toiled on with his oar, wondering whether Bob would be more amiable when the day came, and trying to think of something to say to divert his thoughts and make him cease his quarrelsome tone. "I never see such a mate," growled Bob again. "No money, no clothes! why, I shall have to keep yer, I s'pose." "How long will it take us to get down to the sea, Bob?" said Dexter at last. "I d'know. Week p'r'aps." "But we shall begin fishing before then, shan't we!" "Fishing! How are you going to fish without any rod and line? Expects me to find 'em for yer, I s'pose!" "No, but I thought you would catch the fish, and I could light a fire and cook them." "Oh, that's what yer thought, was it? Well, p'r'aps we shall, and p'r'aps we shan't." "Do you think they will come after us!" ventured Dexter, after a time. "Sure to, I should say; and if they do, and they kitches us, I shall say as it was you who stole the boat." "No, you won't," said Dexter, plucking up a little spirit now he was getting more himself. "You wouldn't be such a sneak." "If you call me a sneak, I'll chuck you out of the boat," cried Bob angrily. "I didn't call you a sneak, I only said you wouldn't be such a sneak," protested Dexter. "I know what you said: yer needn't tell me, and I won't have it, so now then. If you want to quarrel, you'd better get out and go back." "But I don't want to quarrel, Bob; I want to be the best of friends." "Then don't yer call me a sneak, because if you do it'll be the worse for you." "Oh, I say, Bob," protested Dexter, as he tugged away at his oar, "don't be so disagreeable." "And now he says I'm disagreeable!" cried Bob. "Well of all the chaps as ever I see you're about the nastiest. Look here, do you want to fight? because if you do, we'll just go ashore here and have it out." "I don't want to fight indeed, Bob." "Yes, you do; you keep egging of me on, and saying disagreeable things as would have made some chaps give you one for yourself ever so long ago. Lookye here, only one on us can be captain in this here boat, and it is going to be either me or you. I don't want to be, but I ain't going to be quite jumped upon, so we'll get ashore here, and soon see who it's going to be." As Bob Dimsted spoke in a low snarling way, he gave his scull so hard a pull that he sent the boat's head in toward the bank. "First you want one thing, and then you want another, and then you try to make out that it was me who stole the boat." "I only said it wasn't me." "There," cried Bob, "hark at that! Why, who was it then?" Didn't you take yer clothes off and swim over while I stood t'other side? Dexter did not answer, but went on rowing with a hot feeling of anger rising in his breast. "Oh, so now you're sulky, are you? Very well, my lad, we'll soon see to that. If you don't know who's best man, I'm going to show you. It's dark, but it's light enough for that, so come ashore and--" _Whish! rush! crash_! "Row! pull! pull!" whispered Bob excitedly, as there was a loud breaking of the low growth on the bank close by them, followed by the loud clap given by a swing-gate violently dashed to. Dexter pulled, but against the bank, for they were too close in for them to get a dip of the oar in the water; but what he did was not without some effect, and, as Bob backed, the boat's head gradually glided round, shot into the stream, and they went swiftly on again, pulling as hard as they could. "Did you see him!" whispered Bob at last. "No, did you?" "No, but I nearly did. He has been creeping along the bank for ever so long, and he nearly got hold of the boat." "Who was it?" whispered Dexter. "Pleeceman, but pull hard, and we shall get away from him yet." They both pulled a slow stroke for quite an hour, and by that time the horse that had been feeding upon the succulent weedy growth close to the water's edge had got over its fright, and was grazing peaceably once more. Bob was quiet after that. The sudden alarm had cut his string of words in two, and he was too much disturbed to take them up again to join. In fact he was afraid to speak lest he should be heard, and he kept his ill-temper--stirred up by the loss of a night's rest--to himself for the next hour, when suddenly throwing in his oar he said-- "Look here, I'm tired, and I shall lie down in the bottom here and have a nap. You keep a sharp look-out." "But I can't row two oars," said Dexter. "Well, nobody asked you to. You've got to sit there with the boat-hook, and push her off if ever she runs into the bushes. The stream'll take her down like it does a float." "How far are we away from the town!" "I d'know." "Well, how soon will it be morning!" "How should I know? I haven't got a watch, have I? If I'd had one I should have sold it so as to have some money to share with my mate." "Have you got any money, Bob?" "Course I have. Don't think I'm such a stoopid as you, do yer!" Dexter was silent, and in the darkness he laid in his oar after the fashion of his companion, and took up the boat-hook, while Bob lifted one of the cushions from the seat, placed it in the bottom of the boat, and then curled up, something after the fashion of a dog, and went off to sleep. Dexter sat watching him as he could dimly make out his shape, and then found that the stern of the boat had been caught in an eddy and swung round, so that he had some occupation for a few moments trying to alter her position in the water, which he did at last by hooking the trunk of an overhanging willow. This had the required effect, and the head swung round once more; but in obtaining this result Dexter found himself in this position--the willow refused to give up its hold of the boat-hook. He naturally, on his side, also refused, and, to make matters worse, the current here was quite a race, and the boat was going rapidly on. He was within an ace of having to leave the boat-hook behind, for he declined to try another bath--this time in his clothes. Just, however, at the crucial moment the bark of the willow gave way, the hook descended with a splash, and Dexter breathed more freely, and sat there with the boat-hook across his knees looking first to right and then to left in search of danger, but seeing nothing but the low-wooded banks of the stream, which was gradually growing wider as they travelled further from the town. It was a strange experience; and, comparatively happy now in the silence of the night, Dexter kept his lonely watch, thinking how much pleasanter it was for his companion to be asleep, but all the time suffering a peculiar sensation of loneliness, and gazing wonderingly at the strange, dark shapes which he approached. Men, huge beasts, strange monsters, they seemed sometimes right in front, rising from the river, apparently as if to bar his way, but always proving to be tree, bush, or stump, and their position caused by the bending of the stream. Once there was a sudden short and peculiar grating, and the boat stopped short, but only to glide on again as he realised that the river was shallow there, and they had touched the clean-washed gravelly bottom. There was enough excitement now he was left to himself to keep off the depression he had felt, for now the feeling that he was gliding away into a new life was made more impressive by the movement of the boat, which seemed to him to go faster and faster among dimly seen trees, and always over a glistening path that seemed to be paved with stars. Once, and once only, after leaving the town behind was there any sign of inhabited building, and that was about an hour after they started, when a faint gleam seemed to be burning steadily on the bank, and so near that the light shone down upon the water. But that was soon passed, and the river ran wandering on through a wild and open district, where the only inhabitants were the few shepherds who attended the flocks. On still, and on, among the low meadows, through which the river had cut its way in bygone times. Serpentine hardly expressed its course, for it so often turned and doubled back over the ground it had passed before; but still it, on the whole, flowed rapidly, and by slow degrees mile after mile was placed between the boys and the town. Twice over a curious sensation of drowsiness came upon Dexter, and he found himself hard at work trying to hunt out some of his pets, which seemed to him to have gone into the most extraordinary places. For instance, Sam the toad had worked himself down into the very toe of the stocking he had been obliged to take off when he went into the water, and the more he tried to shake it out, the more tightly it clung with its little hands. Then he woke with a start, and found out that he had dozed off. Pulling himself together he determined not to give way again, but to try and guide the boat. To properly effect this he still sat fast with the boat-hook across his knees, and in an instant he was back at the doctor's house in Coleby, looking on while Helen was busy reading the letter which had been brought down from the bedroom. Dexter could see her perfectly plainly. It seemed a thoroughly realistic proceeding, and she was wiping her eyes as she read, while, at the same moment, the doctor entered the room with the willow pollard from the bottom of the garden; and lifting it up he called him an ungrateful boy, and struck him a severe blow on the forehead which sent him back on to the carpet. But it was not on to the carpet, but back into the bottom of the boat, and certainly it was a willow branch which had done the mischief, though not in the doctor's hand. Dexter got up again, feeling rather sore and confused, for the boat had drifted under a projecting bough, just on a level with the boy's head, but his cap had saved him from much harm. Dexter's first thought was that Bob would jump up and begin to bully him for going to sleep. But Bob was sleeping heavily, and the bump, the fall, and the rocking of the boat only acted as a lullaby to his pleasant dreams. And then it seemed that a tree on the bank--a tall poplar--was very much plainer than he had seen any tree before that night. So was another on the other bank, and directly after came a sound with which he was perfectly familiar at the doctor's--a sound that came beneath his window among the laurustinus bushes. _Chink_--_chink_--_chink_--_chink_. A blackbird--answered by another. And then all at once it seemed to be so cold that it was impossible to help shivering; and to ward off the chilling sensation Dexter began to use the boat-hook as a pole, thrusting it down first on one side of the boat and then on the other as silently as he could, so as not to wake Bob. Sometimes he touched bottom, and was able to give the boat a good impetus, but as often as not he could not reach the river-bed. Still the exercise made his blood circulate, and drove away the dull sense of misery that had been coming on. As he toiled on with the pole, the trees grew plainer and plainer, and a soft pearly dawn seemed to be floating over the river. The birds uttered their calls, and then, all at once, in a loud burst of melody, up rose a lark from one of the dewy meadows on his right. Then further off there was another, and right away high up in the east one tiny speck of dull red. Soon this red began to glow as if gradually getting hotter. Then another and another speck appeared--then scores, fifties, hundreds--and Dexter stood bathed in the rich light which played through the curling river mists, as the whole of the eastern heavens became damasked with flecks of gold. In a comparatively short time these faded, and a warm glow spread around the meadows and wild country on either side, where empurpled hills rose higher and higher, grew more and more glorious, and the river sparkled and danced and ran in smooth curves, formed eddies, and further in advance became one wonderful stretch of dancing golden ripples, so beautiful that Dexter stood on the thwart with the pole balanced in his hand wondering whether everything could be as beautiful at Coleby as he saw it now. Then there was a sudden shock, so sharp that he could not save himself, but took a kind of header, not into the water, but right on to Bob Dimsted, landing with his knees in Bob's softest portion, and the pole right across his neck, just as Bob tried to rise, and uttered a tremendous yell. The wonder was that the end of the boat-hook had not gone through the bottom of the boat. _ |
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