Jethou | Page 3

Still, somehow I stumbled through my schooling till I was sixteen,
when I was sent off to my father's office on the Quay at Yarmouth to

take charge of the books, which were an everlasting humdrum record of
herrings and the various trawl fish which came in so frequently in our
vessels.
Between whiles I had plenty of spare time, and whenever a few hours
were allowed me, I could not keep out of my boat, so that if the sea
happened to be fairly calm, I was sure to be found bobbing about on it,
and was as well known by the fishermen along the coast ten miles north
and south of Yarmouth, as I was by the folks in my own village. When
the sea was rough I turned my attention to Breydon Water, or the Bure,
or other of the rivers flowing into it, so that at an early age I could
command my little boat as easily as one manages a horse in driving. On
Saturdays, when the wind and weather were at all favourable, I used
frequently to hurry away from business as early as possible, and sail
home along the Bure and Ant, a distance of about twenty miles, rather
more than less, and became so accustomed to the route that I knew
every tree and post, aye, and almost every reed and bulrush on the
river's bank on my homeward way.
Sometimes night would close in rather quickly upon me, but as I only
had two turnings to look out for, Thurne Mouth and Ant Mouth, I
seldom made a mistake, however dark it might be, especially when the
venerable old ruined gateway of St. Benet's Abbey was once passed.
Almost always these trips were solitary ones, if I except the
companionship of my retriever "Begum," who was a present from my
cousin on his return from India. Begum, he informed me, was a ruler in
India, but whether male or female I never discovered.
My dog was a gentleman, but to this day it has remained a matter of
conjecture with me, as to whether we inadvertantly gave him a lady's
name, or no. Anyway, "Begum" sounded well; he was a ruler, and
being black coincided with our school rulers, which were always black
with ink. Unfortunately, everyone persisted (possibly to annoy me if
they could), in calling him By Gum! strongly accentuating the second
word, and till the poor old dog died, the name stuck to him like a
postage stamp to a letter.

In my holiday trips I had a companion, my cousin Priscilla, who was, if
the term be permissible; as great a water dog as myself. I am not going
to attempt a description of her, but I must let the reader know that she
was bigger, stronger, and a vast deal prettier than any girl within a
radius of many miles of our village; not that I wish to disparage the
looks or figures of our Norfolk girls, for they can hold their own with
the rest of England, as Bad King Harry knew when he wooed and won
Norfolk's Queen, Mistress Anne Boleyn of Blickling.
'Cilla, as I called my cousin for brevity, could row, sail a boat, skate,
and shoot; yes, she was a very fair shot, and never a winter passed but
she gave a good account of duck, teal, mallard, pewit, and geese, as the
result of her prowess.
But I will say no more of pretty cousin 'Cilla at present, as this
narrative is to be a record of what more nearly concerns myself, so I
must not "mardle," as we say in Norfolk, but proceed with my story.
I was twenty-one and some months more, for the rejoicings consequent
upon the event had become matter of past history, when my father one
day received intelligence of one of his fishing vessels having been
towed in a disabled state into the harbour of St. Peter Port, Guernsey.
She was so badly damaged that his presence was imperative, to decide
as to her ultimate fate.
She had been to a Spanish port for cork and hemp, as the fishing season
was not a very good one, and on her return voyage had run upon an
island called Jethou, during a dense fog, luckily in a calm sea, or she
would never have come off whole again. Nothing ever does when it
once plays at ramming these granite islands. Like the Syrens, who lured
or tried to lure Ulysses, these islands are very fair to behold; but woe to
the ship that comes into contact with them, for they rarely escape from
their deadly embrace.
The very next day (my father having allowed me to accompany him)
we started for Plymouth, a long journey, via London,