"Here's a Mother Carey's chicken come aboard!" cried Sam Weeks, making for the poor tired thing to catch it. "I'll have it."

"Don't hurt it, it's a starling," I said. "Can't you see its nice shiny black-and-green plumage, and its yellow bill like a blackbird? Leave the poor little thing alone, it's tired to death."

"A starling! your grandmother!" he retorted, nettled at my speaking, and bearing me a grudge still for what had recently occurred in the deck- house. "A fine lot you know about birds, no doubt! I tell you I'll catch it, and kill it too, if I like."

So saying, he made another grab at the little creature, which, just fluttering off the rigging in time, managed for the moment to escape him and perched on the backstay, when the cruel lad hove a marlin-spike at it. He again missed the bird, however, and it then flew straight into the bosom of my jacket as I stood in front of it, whistling to entice it in that chirpy kissing way in which you hear starlings call to each other, having learnt the way to do so from a boy at Westham.

Weeks was furious at my succeeding in the capture of the poor bird when he had failed; although he would not understand that I had only coaxed it to protect it from his violence. Poor little thing. I could feel its little heart palpitating against mine as it rested safe within the breast of my jacket, nestling close to my flannel shirt!

"Why, you've caught it yourself after all, you mean sneak!" he cried; and thinking he was more of a match for me than he was for Tom Jerrold, and could bully me easily, he made a dash at my jacket collar to tear it open, exclaiming at the same time, "I will have it, I tell you. There!"

He made a wrong calculation, however, for, holding my right arm across my chest so as to keep my jacket closed and protect the poor bird that had sought my succour, I threw out my left hand; and so, as he rushed towards me, my outstretched fist caught him clean between the eyes, tumbling him backwards, as if he had been shot, on to the deck, where he rolled over into a lot of water that had acc.u.mulated in the scuppers to leeward--the pool in the scuppers washing forwards and then aft as the ship rose and fell and heeled over to port on the wind freshening with the approach of night.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

AT SEA.

"Hullo, Weeks!" cried Tom Jerrold, coming up at the moment and grinning at him rolling in the scuppers. "What's the matter, old fellow? You seem rather down."

"Begorra, he's ownly havin' a cooler to aise that nashty timper av his own," said the boatswain from the door of his cabin, which was just next ours in the deck-house, only more forward. And then, turning to me, he added, "Sure an' that wor a purty droive, Misther Gray-ham; ye lit him have it straight from the shouldher."

"I'm sure I didn't mean to hurt him," I answered, sorry now for my opponent as he scrambled at last up on his feet, looking very bedraggled and showing on his face the signs of the fray. "I only held out my hand to save the poor bird, and he ran against my fist."

"Oh, did you?" s...o...b..red Weeks, half crying, in a savage, vindictive voice, and rushing at me as soon as he rose up. "You spiteful beggar!

Well, two can play at that game, and I'll pay you out for it if you've got pluck enough to fight!"

"Be aisy now," interposed Tim Rooney, stepping between us and holding him back. "Sure an' if y're spilin' for a batin' I'm not the chap to privint you; but, if you must foight, why ye'll have to do it fair an'

square. Misther Gray-ham, sorr, jist give me the burrd as made the rumpus, I've a little cage in me bunk that'll sarve the poor baste for shilter till ye can get a betther one. It belonged to me ould canary as toorned up its toes last v'y'ge av a fit av the maysles."

"The measles?" exclaimed Tom Jerrold, bursting into a laugh. "I never heard of a bird dying of that complaint before."

"Faix, thin, ye can hear it now," said the boatswain with some heat.

"An', sure, I don't say whare the laugh comes in, me joker! Didn't its faythers dhrop off av the poor craythur, an' its skin toorn all spotty, jist loike our friend Misther Wake's phiz here; an' what could that be, sure, but the maysles, I'd loike to know?"

"All right, bosun; I daresay you're right," hastily rejoined Jerrold to appease him; but he made me smile, however, by his efforts to look grave, although my own affairs were just then in such a critical position, with the prospect of a battle before me. "I was only laughing at the idea of a canary with the measles; but I've no doubt they have them the same as we do, and other things like us, too."

"In coorse they does, an' plinty of tongue, too, loike some chaps I've come across on shipboard!" replied Tim, all himself again in all good humour; and then, popping into his cabin, he reappeared quickly with the cage he had mentioned, saying to me, "Sorr, give me the burrd."

I had a little difficulty in extricating the starling from its safe retreat, for it had crept within my flannel shirt inside my jacket, tickling me as it moved; but, going carefully to work, I finally succeeded in taking it out without hurting it. Then, placing the little fluttering thing in the cage, the boatswain bore it off to his bunk, giving me an expressive wink as he took it away, as if to say that it would be safer and more out of harm's way in his keeping, albeit I was quite at liberty to reclaim the bird when I pleased.

"Now, jintlemin," said Tim, addressing Weeks and myself after putting the innocent cause of our quarrel inside his cabin and locking the door to prevent accidents, as he shrewdly observed, "if ye're both av ye riddy an' willin', as it's goin' on for the sicond dog-watch, whin all hands are allers allowed at say to skoilark an' devart theirsilves, ye can follow me out on the fo'c's'le, me jokers, an' have y'r shindy out fairly in a friendly way."

I didn't want to fight Weeks, I'm sure; for I was not of a quarrelsome disposition, besides which my father had cautioned me against ever having any disputes with my comrades, if I could avoid such; although he told me also at the same time always to act courageously in the defence of my principles and of my rights, or when I took the part of another unable to defend himself. Here, therefore, was a quarrel forced upon me, almost against my will, to save the poor starling's life; and, beyond that, the aggravating way in which Weeks looked at me and shook his fist in my face would have provoked even a better-tempered boy than I. Tom Jerrold said afterwards that I turned quite white, as I always did when excited; while Weeks, on the contrary, was naming with fury and as red as a lobster.

"Come on, you coward!" he bl.u.s.tered, thinking I was afraid of him.

"I'll soon let you know what it is to have a good hiding, my fine gentleman of a parson's son. You only floored me just now because you caught me unawares."

"I'm quite ready, Mr Rooney," said I to the boatswain, paying no attention to the cur's sn.o.bbish bravado; but I felt his sneer against my father's profession keenly, and had to bite my lip to prevent myself from replying to it. I added, however, for his personal benefit as I turned my back on him in contempt, "Those who crow the loudest, I've heard, generally do the least when the time for real action comes!"

"Thrue for ye, Mister Gray-ham," cried Tim Rooney. "Brag's a good dog, but Howldfast's the bist for my money. Come on wid ye, though, to the fo'c's'le if ye manes foightin'; for we've had palaverin' enough now in all conshinsh!"

So saying, the boatswain led the way forward, Tom Jerrold, who dearly loved anything in the way of a spree, and was overjoyed at the prospect of what he called "a jolly row," following with Weeks, to make sure that he did not back out of the contest at the last moment, which, knowing his cowardly character very well, as Tom told me afterwards, he antic.i.p.ated his doing. I brought up the rear--and so we proceeded towards the bows of the ship along the lee-side of the deck, so as to escape the observation of Captain Gillespie and Mr Mackay. These were standing together, I noticed when the starling flew on board, by the rail on the weather side of the p.o.o.p, where they were having a good look-out to windward, and watching some clouds that were piling themselves in black ma.s.ses along the eastern sky--shutting out the last vestiges of land in the distance, already now become hazy from the mist rising from the sea after sunset.

Pa.s.sing under the bellying main-sail, whose clew-garnet blocks rattled as it expanded to the breeze, which was now blowing pretty stiff, with every indication of veering more round to the north, causing the yards to have a pull taken at the braces every now and then, our little procession soon got clear of the deck-house that occupied the centre of the main-deck, finally gaining the more open s.p.a.ce between the cook's galley at the end and the topgallant forecastle.

Here, the folds of the foresail, swelled out like a balloon, interposed like a curtain betwixt the after-glow of the setting sun and ourselves, the shadows of the upper sails, too, making it darker than on the after part of the deck whence we had started; but it was still quite light enough for me to see the expression on Weeks' mottled face as he stood opposite me.

Not much time was wasted in preliminaries, the boatswain, who acted as master of the ceremonies, placing me against the windla.s.s bitts while my opponent had his back to the galley, what light there was remaining shining full upon him.

I had been present at one or two fights before, at the school I used to attend at Westham, where the boys used to settle their differences generally at the bottom of the playground under a little clump of shady trees that were grouped there, which shut off the view of the house and the headmaster's eye; but never previously had the surroundings of any similar pugilistic encounter seemed so strange as now!

As usual in such cases, the news had circulated through the ship with astonishing rapidity, considering that only a couple of minutes or so at most had elapsed since I had saved the starling and knocked down Weeks; for the whole crew, with the exception of two or three hands standing by the braces and the man at the wheel, appeared to scent the battle from afar, and were now gathered near the scene of action--some on the forecastle with their legs dangling over, others in the lower rigging, whence they could command the issues of the fray.

It was a pitiful contrast!

Here was the n.o.ble vessel surging through the gradually rising sea, with her towering masts and spreading canvas, and the wind whistling through the cordage, and the water coming every now and then over her bows in a cascade of iridescent spray, as the fast-fading gleams of the sunset lit it up, or else rushing by the side of the ship like a mill-race as we plunged through it, welling in at the scuppers as it washed inboard.

All ill.u.s.trated the grandeur of nature, the perfection of art; while there, on the deck, under the evening sky and amid all the glories of the waning glow in the western horizon and the grandeur of the sea in its might and the ship in its beauty and power over the winds and waves alike, were we two boys standing up to fight each other, with a parcel of bearded men who ought to have known better grouped round eagerly awaiting the beginning of the combat.

A contrast, but yet only an ill.u.s.tration of one of the ordinary phases of human nature after all, as father would have said, I thought, this reflection pa.s.sing through my mind with that instantaneous spontaneity with which such fancies do occur to one, as Rooney placed me in my a.s.signed position. Then, recalling my mind to the present, I noticed that Matthews, my whilom fellow apprentice and lately promoted third mate, sinking the dignity of his new rank, had come forward to act as the second, or backer, of my opponent, who must have sent some message aft to summon him.

"Now, me bhoys, are ye riddy?" sang out the boatswain, who stood on the weather side of the deck, glancing first at me and then at Weeks. "One, two, thray--foire away!"

I was not quite a novice in the use of my fists, my brother Tom, who, before he went to Oxford and got priggish, had bought a set of boxing- gloves, having made me put them on with him, sometimes, and showed me how to keep a firm guard and when to hit. My experience was invariably to get the worst of these amicable encounters, for I used to be knocked off my pins, besides feeling my forehead soft and pulpy; for, no matter how well padded gloves may be, a fellow can give a st.u.r.dy punch with them, or appreciate one, all the same. Still, the practice stood me in good stead on this eventful occasion, especially as my brother had well drilled me into being light on my feet and dexterous in the art of stepping forward to deliver a blow and backward to avoid one--no small advantage, and the resource of science over brute force.

So, holding my right arm well across my chest and just about level with it, so that I could raise it either up or down as quick as lightning, to protect my face or body, I advanced my left fist, and waited for Sam Weeks to come on with a rush, as I was certain he would do, bracing myself well on my legs to receive the shock, although the pitching of the ship made me somewhat more uncertain of my equilibrium than if the combat had taken place ash.o.r.e.

My antagonist acted exactly as I had expected.

Whirling his arms round like those of a windmill, he beat down my guard and gave me a nasty thump with one of them on the side of the head, for being lanky, as I said, he had a longer reach than I; however, as he got in close enough, my left fist caught him clean between the eyes again, landing on the identically same spot where I had hit him before, the place being already swollen, and whereas I only staggered against the windla.s.s from his blow, mine sent him tumbling backwards, and he would have fallen on the deck if Matthews had not held him up just in time.

"Bray-vo, dark 'un!" shouted one of the men standing around, complimenting me on having the best of this first exchange, and alluding no doubt to the colour of my hair, which was dark brown while that of Weeks was quite sandy, like light Muscovado sugar. "Give him a one-two next time; there's nothing like the double!"

"I'll back freckles," cried another; "he's got more go in him!"

"Arrah, laive 'em alone, can't ye?" said the boatswain, as we faced each other again. "Don't waste y'r toime, sure. Go it, ye chripples; an'

may the bist av ye win, sez I!"

The next two rounds had somewhat similar results to the first, I keeping up a steady defence and hitting my antagonist pretty nearly in the same place each time, while he gave me a couple of swinging blows, one of which made my mouth bleed, whereat his admirers were in high glee, especially Matthews, his second, for I heard the latter say to him, "Only go on and you'll soon settle him now, Sam!"

My friend the boatswain, however, was equally sanguine as to the result, as his encouraging advice to me showed.

"Kape y'r p.e.c.k.e.r up, Misther Gray-ham. Sure, he's gittin' winded, as all av thim lane an' lanky chaps allers does arter a bit," said Tim, wiping the blood away that was trickling from my lip with his soft silk handkerchief, which he took off from his own neck for the purpose.

"Begorra, ye've ownly to hammer at his chist an' body, me lad; an' ye'll finish him afore ye can say 'Jack Robinson,' an' it's no lie I'm tellin'!"

Hitherto I had been merely acting on the defensive, and parrying the blows rained on me by Weeks in his impetuous rushes, more than hitting in return; for only keeping my left fist well out and allowing him to meet it as he so pleased, and which, strange to say, whether he wished it or not, he did so meet.

But now, thinking it time to end matters, the sight of the blood the boatswain had wiped from my face somehow or other bringing out what I suppose was the innate savagery of my nature, I determined to carry the war into the enemy's camp; or, in other words, instead of standing to be struck at, to lead the attack myself.