Captain Mugford | Page 8

Mugford, whom we
agreed to dub Captain Mugford; and so, immediately after breakfast,
we started out with Mr Clare to find those items of principal interest.
When we had got beyond a hillock and an immense boulder of
pudding-stone, which stood up to shut out the beach view from the
west side of the house, we saw the wreck, only about half a mile off,
and hurried down to it. Mr Clare joined in the race and beat us,
although Walter pushed him pretty hard.
The brig sat high up on the rocky cliff, where only the fullest tides
reached it. The deck careened at a small angle, and the stern projected
several feet beyond the rocks hanging over the sea. The bow pointed
toward the house. The brig's foremast only was standing, to the head of
which old Mugford used to hoist, on all grand occasions, or on such as
he chose to consider grand, a Union Jack or a red ensign, which had
been saved from the wreck. The bowsprit was but little injured, and the
cordage of that and of the foremast was there, and the shrouds--all of
which had been replaced by old Mugford, who, having made the wreck
his residence by my father's wishes, restored to it some of the grace and
order the good brig possessed before misfortune overtook her, and now
it looked fit for either a sailor or a landsman--a curious mongrel, half
ship, half house. By the stump of the mainmast there stood a stove-pipe
projecting from the deck.
When near the brig, which we always afterwards called by the name
she had sailed under--Clear the Track--we hailed "Brig ahoy!" In a
moment the head and shoulders of the Captain appeared above the
companion-hatch, and his sonorous voice answered heartily, "Ah! ahoy,
my hearties: this is the good brig Clear the Track; come aboard." He

cast over the side a rope-ladder, such as is in common use on board
ships, and we climbed to the quarterdeck, over the stern-board of which,
and covering the companion-hatch, there had been built a roof, or open
cabin, making that part of the brig answer the same purposes as the
porch of a house. There were benches along the sides, a spyglass
hanging overhead in beckets, and a binnacle close by where the wheel
had once stood.
The Captain, as we will henceforth call him, however, just then fixed
our attention more than the strangely fitted--up wreck. He was short,
only about five feet four in height, with very heavy, broad, straight
shoulders, immense chest, long arms, very narrow, compact hips, and
short, sturdy legs, much bowed. His features were large, straight, and
determined, and with something of the bulldog in them, yet stamped
with kindness, intelligence, and humour--a face that might be a terror to
an enemy, as it was a surety to a friend. It was well bronzed by many a
storm and tropical sun, and a dark beard grew on it, as the wild moss on
the sea-rocks, in a luxuriant, disorderly manner. His hair was very thick,
black, and glossy, only here and there flecked with the grey of age, and
hung in curls that almost made his rough and powerful head even
handsome. Walter said that night that he was sure Samson and Neptune
were relatives, for without doubt the Captain was descended from both
of them. With the jawbone of an ass he might put to flight a thousand
Philistines, and with a trident drive a four-in-hand of porpoises.
We told that to the Captain afterwards, when we got to know him well,
and it tickled him greatly. He declared it was the finest compliment he
had ever received, and took Walter high in his favour from that
moment.
Our new friend never wore either collar or vest. When not "on duty," as
he expressed it, he went about in his shirt-sleeves. His breeches were of
the ample sailor-cut, and hung from suspenders as intricate as a ship's
rigging. His shirts were spotlessly white, and of very fine linen. A short
black pipe was always in his mouth, or sticking its clay stem from a
waist-band pocket.
Such, my dear boys, was Captain Mugford, whom we fellows dubbed

"our salt tute," in contradistinction to Mr Clare, who was afterwards
known as "our fresh tutor."
As Mr Clare came over the brig's side, he said, with a bow, "Captain
Mugford, I believe. These boys are to be both your crew and my
scholars. I am their tutor, Richard Clare."
"I am happy to see you, Mr Clare. Give me your hand, sir. I hope our
different commands will not clash."
As the skipper shook hands, he looked Mr Clare all over at a glance,
and smiled as if pleased with the inspection.