CHAPTER II. I LEAVE HOME AGAIN
I thought Ephraim a pig for putting in that word about the fall.
Though I had only known Ephraim for a few days I disliked him
perhaps as much as he disliked me. He was angry (I could feel it)
at having a boy in the house, after many years of quiet alone
with my uncle. I know that when he had occasion to speak to me,
he always went away muttering about my being a charity brat who
ought to be in the poor-house. Still, like most servants, he
vented most of his malice indirectly, as in this hint of his
about the river. I rose up from the dinner-table full of
rebellion. I would go on the river, I said to myself, fall or no
fall. I would see more of Mr. Jermyn, too. I would find out what
went on in that house. I would find out everything. In all this,
of course, I was very wrong, but having made sure that I was
being treated unjustly I felt that I was only doing right in
rebelling. So after waiting till Ephraim was in the pantry,
washing up the dinner-things with the housemaid, I slipped down
the garden to the boat-house. The door was padlocked, as I had
feared; but with an old hammer-head I managed to pry off the
staple. I felt like a burglar when the lock came off in my hand.
I felt that I was acting deceitfully. Then the thought of Ephraim
came over me, making me rebellious to my finger-tips. I would go
on the river, I said to myself, I would go aboard all the ships
in the Pool. I would show them all that I could handle a boat
anywhere. So in a moment my good angel was beaten. I was in the
boat-house, prying at the staple of the outer door, like the
young rogue that I was. Well, I paid a heavy price for that day
of disobedience. It was the most dearly bought day's row I ever
heard of.
It took me a few moments to open the outer door. Then, with a
thrill of pleasure, such as only those who love the water can
fed, I thrust out into the river, on to the last of the ebb, then
fast ebbing. The fall under the bridge at that state of the tide
was truly terrifying. It roared so loudly that I could hear
nothing else. It boiled about the bridge piers so fiercely that I
was scared to see it. I had seen the sea in storm; but then one
does not put to sea in a storm. This waterfall tumbled daily,
even in a calm. I shuddered to think of small boats, caught in
the current above it, being drawn down, slowly at first, then
with a whirl, till all was whelmed in the tumble below the
arches. I saw how hatefully the back wash seemed to saunter back
to the fall along the banks. I thought that if I was not careful
I might be caught in the back wash, drawn slowly along it by the
undertow, till the cataract sank me. As I watched the fall,
fascinated, yet scared by it, there came a shooting rush, with
shouts of triumph. A four-oared wherry with two passengers shot
through the arch over the worst of the water into the quiet of
the midstream. They waved to me, evidently very pleased with
their exploit. That set me wondering whether the water were
really as bad as it looked. My first feat was to back up
cautiously almost to the fall, till my boat was dancing so
vigorously that I was spattered all over. Standing up in the boat
there, I could see the oily water, like a great arched snake's
back, swirl past the arch towards me, bubbleless, almost without
a ripple, till it showed all its teeth at once in breaking down.
The piers of the arches jutted far out below the fall, like
pointed islands. I was about to try to climb on the top of one
from the boat, a piece of madness which would probably have ended
in my death, but some boys in one of the houses on the bridge
began to pelt me with pebbles, so that I had to sheer off. I
pulled down among the shipping, examining every vessel in the
Pool. Then I pulled down the stream, with the ebb, as far as
Wapping, where I was much shocked by the sight of the pirates'
gallows, with seven dead men hung in chains together there, for
taking the ship Delight, so a waterman told me, on the Guinea
Coast, the year before. I left my boat at Wapping Stairs, while I
went into a pastry-cook's shop to buy cake; for I was now hungry.
The pastry-cook was also a vintner. His tables were pretty well
crowded with men, mostly seafaring men, who were drinking wine
together, talking of politics. I knew nothing whatever about
politics, but hearing the Duke of Monmouth named I pricked up my
ears to listen. My father had told me, in his last illness, when
the news of the death of Charles the Second reached us, that
trouble would come to England through this Duke, because, he
said, "he will never agree with King James." Many people (the
Duke himself being one of them) believed that this James Scott,
Duke of Monmouth, was the son of a very beautiful woman by
Charles the Second, who (so the tale went) had married her in his
wanderings abroad, while Cromwell ruled in England here. I myself
shall ever believe this story. I am quite sure, now, in my own
mind, that Monmouth was our rightful King. I have heard accounts
of this marriage of Charles the Second from people who were with
him in his wanderings. When Charles the Second died (being
poisoned, some said, by his brother James, who wished to seize
the throne while Monmouth was abroad, unable to claim his rights)
James succeeded to the crown. At the time of which I write he had
been King for about two months. I did not know anything about his
merits as a King; but hearing the name of Monmouth I felt sure,
from the first, that I should hear more of what my father had
told me.
One of the seamen, a sour-looking, pale-faced man, was saying
that Holland was full of talk that the Duke was coming over, to
try for the Kingdom. Another said that it wasn't the Duke of
Monmouth but the Duke of Argyle that was coming, to try, not for
England, but for Scotland. A third said that all this was talk,
for how could a single man, without twenty friends in the world,
get through a cruising fleet? "How could he do anything, even if
he did land?"
"Ah," said another man. "They say that the West is ready to rally
around him. That's what they say."
"Well," said the first, raising his cup. "Here's to King James, I
say. England's had enough of civil troubles." The other men drank
the toast with applause. It is curious to remember how cautious
people were in those troublous days. One could never be sure of
your friend's true opinion. It was a time when there were so many
spies abroad that everybody was suspicious of his neighbour. I am
sure that a good half of that company was disloyal; yet they
drank that toast, stamping their feet, as though they would have
shed their blood for King James with all the pleasure in life.
"Are you for King James, young waterman?" said one of the men to
me. "Yes," I said, "I am for the rightful King." At this they all
laughed. One of the men said that if there were many like me the
Duke of Monmouth might spare himself the trouble of coming over.
I finished my cake quietly, after that. Then, as the tide was not
yet making, to help me back up the river, I wandered into Wapping
fields, where a gang of beggars camped. They were a dirtier, more
troublesome company than the worst of the Oulton gipsies. They
crowded round me, whining about their miseries, with the fawning
smiles of professional beggars. There were children among them
who lied about their wants as glibly as their parents lied. The
Oulton beggars had taught me to refuse such people, as being,
nearly always, knaves; so I said that I had nothing for them. I
felt the hands of these thieves lightly feeling the outsides of
my pockets for something worth taking. One of them with a sudden
thrust upon me snatched my handkerchief. He tossed it to a
friend. As he started to run from me, a young man with an evil,
weak face pushed me backwards with a violent shove. I staggered
back, from the push, to fall over a boy who had crouched behind
me there, ready to upset me. When I got up, rather shaken from my
fall, the dirty gang was scattering to its burrow; for they
lived, like beasts, in holes scratched in the ground, thatched
over with sacks or old clothes. I hurried back toward Wapping in
the hope of finding a constable to recover my handkerchief for
me. The constable (when I found him) refused to stir until I made
it worth his while. Sixpence was his fee, he said, but he was
sure that a handsome young gentleman like myself would not grudge
a sixpence to recover a handkerchief. On searching for my purse
(in which I had about two shillings) I found that that had gone,
too, "nicked" by these thieves. I told the Constable that my
purse had been stolen.
"Oh," he said. "How much was in it?" I told him.
"Could you describe the man who took it?"
"No." I said. "I did not see the man take it."
"Then how do you know that anybody took it?"
Of course I did not know that anybody had taken it but thought it
highly probable. "That won't do here," he said, settling down in
his chair to his tobacco. "I'll look into it. If I hear of it,
why, next time you come here, you shall have it."
"But my handkerchief," I said.
"Sixpence is my fee," the brute answered. "Do you want to rob a
poor man of his earnings? Why, what a rogue you must be, young
master." I tried to move him to recover my handkerchief, but
without success. At last, growing weary of the sound of my pipe,
as he said, he rounded on me.
"If you don't run away 'ome," he said, "I'll commit you for a
nuisance. Think I'm goin' to be bothered by yer. Be off, now."
At that, I set off down to the river. There I found two dirty
little boys in my uncle's boat, busy with the dipper, trying to
fill her with water. I boxed the ears of one of them, when the
other, coming behind me, hit me over the head with the stretcher.
I turned sharply, giving him a punch which made his nose bleed.
The other, seeing his chance (my back being turned) promptly
soused me with the dipper. I saw that I would have to settle one
of them at a time, so, paying no attention to the dipper, I
followed up my blow on the nose with one or two more, which drove
the stretcher-boy out of the boat. The other was a harder lad;
who would, perhaps, have beaten me, had not a waterman on the
stairs taken my part. He took my enemy by the ear. "Get out of
that," he said, giving him a kick. "If I catch you messing boats
again, I'll give you Mogador Jack." I pushed off from the stairs
then, glad to get away with both oars. My enemies, running along
the banks, flung stones at me as long as I was in range. If I had
had my sling with me, would have warmed their legs for them. When
was out of range of their shot, I laid in my oars, so that I
could bail. The boys had poured about six inches of water into
the boat. If the plug had been less tightly hammered in, they
would no doubt have sunk her at her painter by pulling it out.
Then should have been indeed in difficulty. It took me about
twenty minutes to bail the boat clear. As I bailed her, I thought
that Londoners must be the most unpleasant people in the world,
since, already, in two days, I had met so many knaves. It did not
occur to me at the time that I was a young knave, too, to be out
in a stolen boat, against orders. I never once thought how well I
had been served for my disobedience.
I had an uncomfortable journey upstream, for I was very wet from
my sousing. I loitered at the Tower to watch the garrison
drilling with the big guns. Then I loitered about among the
ships, reading their names, or even climbing their gangways to
look at their decks. I lingered a long time at the schooner La
Reina, partly because she was much the prettiest ship in the
Pool, but partly because I was beginning to dread Ephraim. I
wondered whether Mr. Jermyn was on board of her. I was half
tempted to climb aboard to find out. I clambered partly up her
gangway, so that I could peer over the rail. To my surprise, I
found that her hatches were battened down as in ships ready for
the sea. Her cargo of oranges, that had smelt so sweetly, must
have been a blind, for no ship, discharging cargo the day before,
could be loaded, ready for sea, within twenty-four hours. Indeed,
she was in excellent trim. She was not too light to put to sea.
No doubt, I said to myself, she has taken in ballast to equal the
weight of oranges sent ashore. But I knew just enough of ships to
know that there was some mystery in the business. The schooner
could not be the plain fruit-trader for which men took her. As I
looked over her rail, noting this, I said to myself that "here is
another mystery with which Mr. Jermyn has to do." I felt a thrill
of excitement go through me. I was touching mysterious adventure
at half a dozen different points. I felt inclined to creep to the
hatchway of the little cabin, to listen there if any plots were
being hatched. It was getting duskish by this time, it must have
been nearly seven o'clock. Two men came up the cabin hatch
together. One of them was Mr. Jermyn, the other a shorter fellow,
to whom Mr. Jermyn seemed extremely respectful. I wished not to
be seen, so I ducked down nimbly into my boat, drawing her
forward by a guess-warp, till I could row without being heard by
them. I heard Mr. Jermyn calling to a waterman; so very swiftly I
paddled behind other ships in the tier, without being observed.
Then I paddled back to my uncle's boat-house, the door of which,
to my horror, was firmly fastened against me.
