Peter Trawl | Page 7

taken
lately to talk much about Jack, and sometimes regretted that he had let
him go away.
"You acted for the best, and so don't be blaming yourself," observed
mother, trying to console him. "There's One aloft looking after him
better than we can, and He'll bring our boy back to us if He thinks fit."
Mary and I little knew all the trials father and mother had to go through.
Mother's trade was bad, and father was often out all day without
bringing a shilling home. Younger men with more gaily-painted
boats--he would not acknowledge that they were better--got fares when
he could not manage to pick up one. Sometimes also he was laid up
with the rheumatics, and was unable to go afloat. One day, while thus
suffering, mother fetched Dr Rolt to see him. Father begged the doctor
to get him well as soon as he could, seeing that he wanted to be out in
the wherry to gain his livelihood.

"All in good time, my man," answered the doctor. "You'll be about
again in a few days, never fear. By-the-bye, I saw our friend Mr Gray
lately, Mrs Trawl, and he was inquiring for you. He would have come
to see your husband had he known that he was ill, but he went away to
London yesterday, and may, I fear, be absent for some time. Many will
miss him should he be long away."
Sooner than father expected he was about again. I had gone down with
father and mother to the Hard, mother to board a ship which had just
come in, and father to look out for a fare, while Mary remained at home
with Nancy. It was blowing pretty fresh, and there was a good deal of
sea running outside, though in the harbour the water was not rough
enough to prevent mother from going off. While she was waiting for
old Tom Swatridge, who had been with grandmother and her for years
to bring along her baskets of vegetables from the market, a gentleman
came hurrying down the Hard, and seeing father getting the wherry
ready, said:
"I want you to put me aboard my ship, my man. She's lying out at
Spithead; we must be off at once."
"It's blowing uncommon fresh, sir," said father. "I don't know how
you'll like it when we get outside; still there's not a wherry in the
harbour that will take you aboard drier than mine, though there's some
risk, sir, you'll understand."
"Will a couple of guineas tempt you?" asked the stranger, thinking that
father was doubting about the payment he was to receive.
"I'll take you, sir," answered father. "Step aboard."
I was already in the boat, thinking that I was to go, and was much
disappointed when father said, "I am not going to take you, Peter, for
your mother wants you to help her; but just run up and tell Ned Dore I
want him. He's standing by the sentry-box."
As I always did as father bade me, I ran up and called Ned, who at once
came rolling along down the Hard, glad of a job. When he heard what

he was wanted for he stepped aboard.
"I hope to be back in a couple of hours, or three at furthest, Polly,"
father sang out to mother, as he shoved off the wherry. "Good-bye, lass,
and see that Peter makes himself useful."
Mother waved her hand.
"Though two guineas are not to be picked up every day, I would as lief
he had stayed in the harbour this blowing weather," she said to herself
more than to me, as on seeing old Tom coming we stepped into her
boat.
When father first went to sea, Tom Swatridge had been his shipmate,
and had done him many a kind turn which he had never forgotten. Old
Tom had lost a leg at Trafalgar, of which battle he was fond of talking.
He might have borne up for Greenwich, but he preferred his liberty,
though he had to work for his daily bread, and, I am obliged to say, for
his daily quantum of rum, which always kept his pockets empty. He
had plenty of intelligence, but he could neither read nor write, and that,
with his love of grog, had prevented him from getting on in life as well
as his many good qualities would otherwise have enabled him to do. He
was a tall gaunt man, with iron-grey hair, and a countenance wrinkled,
battered, and bronzed by wind and weather.
When he first came ashore he was almost as sober a man as father, and
having plenty of prize-money he managed to purchase a small dwelling
for himself, which I shall have by-and-by to describe. Old Tom taking
the oars, we