Jack at Sea | Page 9

knives and plate and coal-scuttles and answer the bells, till I get tired of a night and lie abed asking myself whether a strong chap like me was meant to go on all his life cleaning boots and knives; and if I was, what's the good of it all? I'm sick of it, Master Jack, and there's been times when I've been ready to go and 'list for a soldier, only I don't believe that would be much better. The toggery's right enough, and you have a sword or a gun, but it's mostly standing in a row and being shouted at by sergeants. But now there's a chance of going about and seeing what the world's like, and its works, and how it goes round, and you say you don't want to go. Why, it caps me, it do, sir, really."
"Yes," cried Jack angrily; "and it `caps me,' as you call it, to hear a good servant like you talk about giving up a comfortable place and want to go on a long and dangerous voyage. Are you not well fed and clothed and paid, and have you not a good bed?"
"Yes, sir; yes sir; yes, sir," cried Edward; "but a man don't want to be always comfortable, and well fed, and to sleep on a feather bed. He's a poor sort of a chap who does. I don't think much of him. It's like being a blind horse in a clay mill, going round and round and round all his life. Why, he never gets so much change as to be able to go the other way round, because if he did the mill wouldn't grind."
"Pooh!" cried Jack sharply. "It is not true: you can have plenty of change. Clean knives first one day, and boots first the next, and then begin with the plate."
"Ha--ha! haw--haw! he--he!" cried the man, boisterously, laughing, and in his enjoyment lifting up one leg and putting it down with a stamp over and over again.
"Don't stand there laughing like an idiot!" cried Jack angrily. "How dare you!"
"Can't help it, sir, really, sir; can't help it. You made me. But go on, sir. Do. Chuck some books at me for being so impudent."
"I will," cried Jack fiercely, "if you don't leave the room."
"That's right, sir; do, sir; it's stirred you up. Why, you have got the stuff in you, Master Jack. I do believe you could fight after all if you was put to it. You, sir, actually, sir, making a joke about the knives and boots. Well, I wouldn't have believed it of you."
"Leave the room, sir!"
"Yes, sir, directly, sir; but do please ask the governor to take me, sir."
"Leave the room, sir!" cried Jack, starting to his feet.
"Certainly, sir, but if you would--"
Whish!--Bang!--Jingle!
In a fit of petulant anger Jack had followed the man's suggestion, caught up a heavy Greek lexicon, and thrown it with all his might, or rather with all his weakness, at the servant's head. Edward ducked down, and the book went through the glass of one of the cases; and at the same moment Sir John Meadows entered the library.
CHAPTER FOUR.
A READY-MADE MAN.
"What's the meaning of this?" cried Sir John angrily, as he stood staring in astonishment at his son's anger-distorted, flushed face, then at the footman, and back at his son.
"I--I--this fellow--this man--Edward was insolent, and--and--I--father-- I--ordered him--to leave the room--and--and he would not go."
"Oh, I beg pardon, Master Jack, sir," said Edward reproachfully. "I said I'd go, and I was going."
"Silence, sir!" cried Sir John, frowning. "Now, Jack, he would not go?"
"I was angry, father--and--and--"
"And you threw this book at him, and broke the pane of glass?"
"Yes, father," said the boy, who was now scarlet, as he stood trembling with excitement and mortification.
"Humph!" ejaculated Sir John, crossing to raise the very short skirt of his brown velveteen Norfolk jacket, and stand with his hands behind him in front of the fire. "Pick up that book, Edward."
"Yes, Sir John."
"And tell one of the housemaids to come and sweep up the pieces."
"Yes, Sir John," said the man, moving toward the door.
"Stop! What does that signal to Mr Jack mean?"
"Well, Sir John, I--"
"Wait a minute. Now, Jack, in what way was Edward insolent to you?"
"Only laughed, Sir John."
"Be silent, sir! Now, Jack!"
"He irritated me, father," said the lad hastily. "He came to worry me with an absurd request, and--and when I ridiculed it, he burst out laughing in a rude, insolent way."
"Beg pardon, Sir John," said the man respectfully.--"Not insolent, Master Jack."
"Say Mr Jack."
"Certn'y, Sir John. Mister Jack actually made a joke,--it wasn't a good one, Sir John, but it seemed so rum for him to make a joke, and then get in a passion, that I bust out larfin, Sir John, and I couldn't help it really."
Sir John