Mother Careys Chicken | Page 4

George Manville Fenn
that, sir; I may be a blockhead, but I arn't lost the
letter."
"Where is it, then?" cried the captain angrily.
"That's just what I want to know, sir."
"Bah! it's lost."
"No, sir, it arn't lost; I were too careful for that, and--theer, I telled you
so. I remember now. Mr Gregory says, says he, `you, Billy Widgeon,'
he says, `you've got to take great care of that letter,' he says; and `all
right, sir,' I says, `I just will,' and I put it wheer I thought it would be
safest, and here it is."
As he spoke, grinning broadly the while, he slipped off one of his shoes,
stooped and picked it up, and drew out the letter all warm and crinkled
up with the pressure.
"It's all right, sir," he said, smoothing and patting the letter, and
handing it to his captain, before balancing himself on one leg to replace
his shoe.
"Why didn't you carry it in your pocket, man?" said the captain angrily,
and he tore open the letter and began to read.
"I say, youngster," whispered the sailor, whom the dog was still slowly
going round and smelling suspiciously, "will that there chap bite?"
"Bite! No," replied Mark. "Here, lie down, Bruff!"
The dog obeyed, laying his head upon his forepaws and blinking at the
visitor, whom he watched intently as if he were in doubt about his
character.
"Looks a nipper, he do, squire," said the sailor. "He could take hold
pretty tight, eh?"
"Take hold and keep hold," said Mark, who could not help a feeling of

envy creeping into his breast--envy of the easy-looking, active little
man who was to be his father's companion over the seas to wonderland.
"He looks as if he would," said the sailor after a few moments' pause. "I
say, youngster, I'd rayther be ins with him than outs."
"What! rather be friends than enemies?"
"That's it, youngster. I say, what are you going to be--first-mate, and
skipper arter?"
"No," said Mark, speaking in the same low tone as his questioner; "I'm
not going to be a sailor."
"Lor!"
"It is not decided what I'm to be yet."
"Arn't it now? Why, if you'd come to sea along o' us what a lot I could
ha' taught you surety. Why, I could ha' most made a man of you."
"Here, Widgeon," said the captain sharply, "take that back to Mr
Gregory, and tell him I shall be aboard to-morrow."
"Right, sir," said the sailor, giving his head a duck and his right leg
another kick out--courtesies called forth by the well-furnished room
and the soft carpet, for on the bare deck of the ship he put off his
manners with his shore-going clothes. "Day, sir. Day, youngster. Day,
shipmet."
This last was intended for the dog; but, a few moments before, Bruff
had slowly risen, crossed the room, and drawn the door open by
inserting one paw in the crack, and then passed through.
"Why, he arn't there!" said Billy Widgeon after a glance round. "My
sarvice to him all the same," he added, and went out.
The door had hardly closed when there was the sound of a rush, a roar,
the fall of a chair, a crash of china, and a stentorian "Ahoy!"

"I shall have to kill that dog," cried the captain, as he and Mark rushed
into the hall, where Bruff was barking and growling savagely.
"Down, Bruff!" shouted Mark, seizing the dog by the collar and
enforcing his order by pressing his head down upon the oil-cloth, and
setting one knee upon his side. "Why, where's--"
Mark did not finish, but burst into a roar of laughter, in which his father
joined, as they both gazed up at the little sailor.
Explanation of the state of affairs was not needed, for matters spoke for
themselves.
It was evident that Bruff had, for some reason, made a rush at Billy
Widgeon, who had leaped upon a hall chair, from thence upon the table,
upsetting the chair in his spring. From the table he had leaped to the top
of a great cabinet, knocking down a handsome Indian jar, which was
shattered to fragments on the oil-cloth; and from the cabinet springing
to the balusters of the first-floor landing of the staircase.
There he hung, swinging by first one hand, then by the other, so as to
get a good look down at his assailant, who was barking at him furiously
as Mark rushed out; but Bruff had not the brains to see that if he rushed
up stairs he could renew his attack.
"Got him safe?" said Billy Widgeon, as he swung by one hand as easily
as would a monkey, and unconsciously imitating one of these active
little creatures in the pose of
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code

 / 149
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.