'Well, sir, I've bin bargin' forty years, and I don't fare to remember when times was so bad in bargin' afore.'

'What do you think we could get a decent 120-ton barge for, Lijah, supposing we wanted a big one?'

'I doubt yaou 'ont get 'un under five or six hundred paounds. Yaou see, sir, what bit o' trade there is them bigger barges same as 120 tons and up'ards gits, for they on'y carries two 'ands same as we, what can on'y carry 95 ton, though by rights they ought to carry a third 'and.'

'Do you think we could get a sound 90 tonner for two hundred pounds, because that's the size we've practically decided on?'

'I don't want to think nawthen about that, I _knaow_ yaou can. Why, on'y last week the _Ada_ was sould for one 'undred and sixty pound, as good a little ould thing as any man ever wanted under 'im. But yaou wants to be wonnerful careful-like in buyin' a barge. Yaou know that, sir, as well as I do, and my meanin' is there's barges and barges. As I was a tellin' yer, yaou wants to know her const.i.tootion first, and then yaou wants to knaow her character. Yaou don't want to take up with a craft what yaou can't press a bit, or what'll bury 'er jowl or keep all on a gnawin' to wind'ard or 'ont lay at anchor easy or is unlucky in gettin' run into.'

'Why, you're not superst.i.tious, are you, Lijah?'

'No, no, sir. I'm on'y tellin' yer there's barges and barges. Look at this little ould _Osprey_, sir. Yaou can see she's got a new bowsprit.

Well an' that's the third time she's bin in trouble since yaou've knaowed she, ain't it? We'd just come off the loadin' pier at Southend to make room for another barge, and we layed on that ould moorin'

under the pier right agin the foot of the beach ready for the mornin's high water. Well, she took the graound all right, for she d'ent on'y float there about faour hours out of the twelve, and I went belaow to turn in for a bit. She 'adn't barely flet when I felt her snub, and there was a barge atop 'o she and aour bowsprit gone. I knaow wessels has laid on that ould moorin' for the last twenty year, and never ain't heard tell of one bein' in trouble afore.

'Soon as we'd got t'other barge clear, I went up and tould the guvnor.

"Lijah," 'e says, "ef I was to put that little ould _Osprey_ in my back-yard she'd get run into." Yes, that's the truth, that is; you can't leave that ould barge anywhere, no matter where that is, but the ould thing'll have suthen atop o' she. And what's more, the guvnor's lost every case he's took up on 'er so far, though he was allus in the right.

'Naow the _Alma_, what my wife's cousin Bill Stebbins is skipper of, is all the other way raound. That ould thing's bin run into twice since Bill's had 'er, once on her transom and once on her port side just abaft the leeboards, and there warn't no law case nor nawthen, but each time the party what done it agreed on a sum and paid it, and the ould thing made money over it for 'er guvnor.

'I once see'd the _Alma_ do a thing what I wouldn't 'ave believed not if forty thaousand people told me. She was a layin' in Limehouse reach, stackloaded and risin' to abaout twenty fathom o' chain. There was a strong wind daown, and she was a sheered in towards the sh.o.r.e.

Bill's mate was a goin' ash.o.r.e for beer, and I 'eard Bill tellin' 'im to 'urry up. I knaowed why he tould the mate to be quick, because that blessed ould ebb was running wonnerful 'ard, and sometimes that'll frickle abaout and make a barge take a sheer aout, and p'raps break her chain, which barges do sometimes in the London River. Well, suddenly I seed that little ould _Alma_ sheer right off into the river and snub up with a master great jerk what pulled her ould head raound agin. Then I see'd 'er with her chain up and daown a drivin' straight for the laower pier, where I reckoned she'd be stove in or suthen, and there was Bill alone on board as 'elpless as a new-born babe, as the sayin' is, for a' course 'e couldn't lay aout no kedge nor nawthen by 'isself.

'Well, as true as I'm a settin' 'ere that lucky ould thing come a drivin' athwart till she fetches into the eddy tide below the upper pier, and then she goes away to wind'ard, although there was a strong wind daown, mind yer, till she fetches up alongside another barge, the _Mabel_, what was a layin' there, and all Bill 'ad to do was to pa.s.s the _Alma's_ stay fall raound the _Mabel's_ baow cleat and back agin.

Yes, sir, that was the head masterpiece that ever I did see.'

A few days afterwards we happened to see the _Norah Emily_ down in the mouth of our river. This was the barge commanded by Bill Stebbins, the former skipper of the _Alma_. We took a rather mischievous pleasure in going on board to find out whether Bill Stebbins would confirm all Elijah had told us. We fancied that Elijah would have spoken more circ.u.mspectly about the unfailing luck of the _Alma_, if he had guessed that Bill was likely to come round our way. But our doubts soon became remorse. Elijah was vindicated.

'Yes, yes,' said Bill, 'that ould _Alma_ was the luckiest ould basket ever built; that d'ent matter where yaou left she, she d'ent never git into trouble. There was faour on us once't a layin' in the middle crick below the Haven, the _Lucy_, the _Susan_, the _f.a.n.n.y_, and my little ould _Alma_. We had to wait our turn at the quay for loadin'

straw, so the mate and me went off home for a day or two. Well, that come on to blaow suthen hard, that did, and all they there barges was in some kind of trouble, but the _Alma_ she just stayed where she were and d'ent come to no manner o' harm.

'Then agin, same as in the London docks, yaou ast any barge skipper yaou like haow long a barge can lay there without a lighter or a tug or suthen wantin' she to shift. None the more for that, I've bin, there plenties o' times with that little ould _Alma_, and she warn't niver in no one's way. I remember off Pickford's wharf, Charing Cross, we 'ad to shift to make room for another barge. I 'ad to goo off to fix up another freight, but reckoned to be back by six o'clock, so I tould the mate to git a hand to help shift she and make fast in case I warn't back tide-time. Well, arter I got my freight I meets one or two friends, and what with one thing and another, I den't git back till eleven o'clock o' night. I couldn't find that mate, or, _do_, I'd a given he suthen, for there was that blessed ould thing made fast with a doddy bit o' line no bigger'n yaour finger, whereas by rights she ought to have had three or faour of aour biggest ropes to hold she from slippin' daown the wind. Anyway, there she lay end on just right for slippin' off, and niver even offered to move. As yaou knaow, sir, scores and scores o' barges 'av bruk the biggest rope they carry that way and gone slidin' daown the wind. The _Mary Jane_ did, just above Bricklesey[3] on the way to Toozy,[4] and buried her ould jowl that deep in the mud on t'other side of the gut that I was skeered she wasn't goin' to fleet.

[3] Brightlingsea.

[4] St. Osyth.

'But there y'are, that _Mary Jane_ 'ouldn't never set anywhere where any other barge would; and ef her rope was strong enough she'd have tore the main cross chock or anything else aout o' she. That's the masterousest thing, that is, but I s'pose that's all accordin' to the way her bottom is. But that ould _Alma_--well, I've heard plenties o'

times afore I took she what a lucky bit o' wood she were. Look at here, sir. We was up Oil Mill Crick by Thames Haven there and the wind straight in, and us had a bit o' bad luck comin' aout, for us stuck on that slopin' shelf o' mud right agin the salts there. I felt wonnerful anxious, for there warn't three foot to spare, and ef she'd a slipped off she'd a bruk 'erself to pieces. I don't reckon any other barge 'ud have hild on there, but that ould _Alma_ did. She just set up there same as a cat might on a table.

'In Sh.e.l.ly Bay, too, just above the Chapman Light, she done a thing what no other barge 'ould have done. Us couldn't let goo our anchor where us wanted to, as there was another barge, the _Louisa_, agin the quay. I had to goo off to see the guvnor, so I ast the skipper o' the _Louisa_ to give my mate a hand when the _Louisa_ come off, for a course the _Alma_ hadn't got near enough chain aout. Well, that bein'

a calm then my mate tould the skipper o' the _Louisa_ not to trouble, as he warn't goin' to shift till the mornin'. That bein' a calm then warn't to say that 'ud be a calm in the mornin'; and it warn't, for that come on to blaow a strorng hard wind straight on sh.o.r.e.

'That ould thing begun to drag her anchor, but as soon as ever her ould starn tailed on to that beach her anchor hild, and she lay head on to the sea as comfortable as yaou could want to be. There ain't a mite o' doubt but what ninety-nine barges out 'er a hundred 'ud have paid off one way or t'other, and come ash.o.r.e broadside on and done some damage, for there's a nasty swell comes in there.'

Barges came and went in our river. We inspected some at the quay, and sailed down in the _Playmate_ to talk to the skippers of others. We soon learned enough about barges to fill a book. We heard how the day the _Invicta_ was launched she ran into another vessel and her skipper's hand was badly cut; how his wife tried (in the Ess.e.x phrase) to 'stench' the bleeding; how the skipper swore that the ship would be unlucky, as blood had fallen on her on the day she was launched; and how the wife herself died on board on the third trip. We heard of good barges and bad, of lucky barges and unlucky; of barges that would always foul their anchors, and others that never did; of barges that would carry away spars or lose men overboard, or break away from their berths, and of others that were as gentle as doves.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BARGES AT AN ESs.e.x MILL]

It seemed that barges are much like human beings; when young, they can stand strains and do heavy work which they have to give up when middle-aged. If they have a weakness of const.i.tution it reveals itself when they are young; but having pa.s.sed the critical age, they settle down to a long useful life, and it is not uncommon for them to be still at work after fifty or sixty years. But the most important result of our researches was the universal opinion that a sound 90 tonner was to be got at our price.

At least, that was the most important fact from my point of view; but I ought in truthfulness to say that while I had been making notes likely to help me to buy a good barge with a sound const.i.tution, the Mate had looked upon our acc.u.mulated information from a different angle, and had been giving her attention to barges' characters.

I might have foreseen this, for she always looked on the _Playmate_ as a living thing. She has the feeling of the bargemen, who say of an old vessel, 'Is she still alive?' I was not prepared, however, for her to tell me that, however sound a barge might be, I was not to buy her unless her character was good. I argued in vain.

'Do you think I would be left with the children on board a barge like the _Osprey_, always being run into? Or like the _Mildred_, always dragging her anchor? Or the _Charlotte_, who has thrown two men overboard? Not I!'

I pointed out that she had so successfully acquired the spirit of barging that she was evidently made for the life. The suggestion was received with favour. We were indeed now so deep in the business that we were beyond recall. Nothing remained but to choose our particular 90 tonner with a good character.

CHAPTER V

'Ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land-rats and water-rats, land-thieves and water-thieves.'

The next thing that happened was that we received an offer of 375 for our cottage. After an attempt to 'raise the buyer one'--an attempt that would have been more persistent had our desire to become barge-owners been less ardent--we accepted the offer. We ought to have got more, but as the barge market was flat we salved our consciences on the principle that what you lose on the swings you gain on the roundabouts.

We entered the barge market as buyers. It is impossible to 'recapture the first fine careless rapture' of those days. In every 90-ton barge we looked on we saw the possible outer walls of our future home. The arrival of the post had a new significance, for we had made known far and wide the fact that we were serious buyers. We turned over our letters on the breakfast-table every morning like merchants who should say, 'What news from the Rialto?'

The first barges we heard of were, according to the advertis.e.m.e.nt, the 'three sound and well-found sailing barges, the _Susan_, the _Ethel_, and the _Providence_, of 44 tons net register.' Each of these was about 90 tons gross register, and at that moment of optimism the chances seemed at least three to one that one of them would suit us.

Let it be said here that the net registered tonnage of barges is a conventional symbol. Whether a barge carries 100 or 120 tons, the net tonnage is always 44 and so many hundredths--often over ninety hundredths. If by any miscalculation in building she works out at 45 tons or more, a sail-locker or some other locker is enlarged to reduce her tonnage, for vessels of 45 tons net register and upwards have to pay port dues in London.

It is, of course, the ambition of every owner, whether of a 5-ton yacht or the _Leviathan_, to get his net registered tonnage as low as possible, so as to minimize his port and light dues. One well-known yachtsman who was having his yacht registered kindly a.s.sisted the surveyor by holding one end of the measuring tape. In dark corners the yachtsman could hold the tape as he pleased, but in more open places the surveyor's eye was upon him. The result was curious; the yacht turned out to have more beam right aft than amidships. 'She's a varra funny shaped boat,' said the surveyor doubtfully. Luckily his dinner was waiting for him, and he did not care to remeasure a yacht about the precise tonnage of which no one would ever trouble himself.

We hurried off to consult Elijah Wadely about the _Susan_, the _Ethel_, and the _Providence_.

'Not a one o' they 'on't suit yaou, sir,' said Lijah. 'That little ould _Susan_ was most tore out years ago--donkeys years ago. And that ould _Ethel_--- well, she's only got one fault.'

'What's that?'

'She were built too soon,' chuckled Lijah. 'And that ould _Providence_ is abaout the slowest bit o' wood ever put on the water. No, no, sir; none o' they 'on't do.'

We were disappointed, of course, but not long afterwards we heard of another barge laid up near a neighbouring town, and went to see her.

She had been tarred recently and looked fairly well, but we did not trust the owner. Not long before he had tried to sell us an old punt (also freshly done up) for twenty-five shillings--a punt which we discovered had been given to him for a pint of beer. We looked over the barge accompanied by the owner, who rather elaborately pointed out defects, which he knew, and we knew, were unimportant, in a breezy and open manner, as one trying to impress us with his candour.

When the Mate was out of hearing he used endearing and obscene language about the barge, as one who should say, 'Now you know the worst of her and of me.' However, the memory of the punt, and what Falstaff describes in Prince Hal's eyes as 'a certain hang-dog look,'

convinced us that the barge would never stand a survey, and we learned afterwards that she was as rotten as a pear below the water-line.

We had hardly returned from this inspection when we heard of three more barges to be sold. They were engaged in carrying cement to London and bringing back anything they could get, and at that moment were lying off Southwark.

We went at once to London. The next day we visited the _Elizabeth_, one of the barges, and were invited into the cabin by the skipper and his wife--not any of our Ess.e.x folk, worse luck. I began to make use of some of the knowledge I had acquired. In this I was checked by the lady of the barge, who said, 'It seems to me, mister, yer wants to know something, and if yer wants us to speak yer ought to pay yer footing.'

I sent for a bottle of gin, already painfully recognizing that looking at barges in our country was one thing, and in London another. The skipper and his wife appeared to be thirsty souls, for soundings in the bottle fell rapidly. We discussed the weather and things generally while I took stock of these people, who were to me a new and disagreeable type. I wondered whether they would be more likely to speak the truth before they finished the gin--which they seemed likely to do--or afterwards. Meanwhile I looked round me.