Steve Young | Page 8

contemptible, lubberly young rascal, what do you
mean? You come to sea, and afraid to go aloft!"
"Na, I winna say I'm afraid to gang aloft, sir; but my heid's a' of a wark
when I get up, and I might fa' and hurt somebody."
Captain, mate, the doctor, and Steve burst into a roar of laughter at this;
and feeling that he must have said something unusually clever the boy
looked smiling round, letting his eyes rest at last upon Steve.
"Here, this won't do!" cried Mr Lowe. "Now, boy, no nonsense; up with
you!"
"Na," said the boy sturdily, and he shook his shock head. "My mither
said I wasna to rin into danger, and I didna come to sea to fa' overboard,
or come doon upon the deck wi' a roon."
"Now, boy, come along!" cried the sailor, who was high up above the
top.
"Do you hear, sir! Up with you, or you'll get the rope's end!" cried the
mate angrily.
"Don't send him," said the captain in an undertone. "The young cur may
fall."
"I'll take them!" cried Steve; and stepping forward, he leaped up into
the shrouds and held down his hand for the bundle.
The captain gave his head a nod.

"Up with you then, my lad. Shall I send a man to lash you to the
rigging?"
"Yes, sir, when I ask," cried Steve: and taking the bundle of pieces of
wood under his arm he began to mount steadily.
"Pass the word for the cook," cried the mate angrily; and as Steve
reached the top he paused to rest a moment, and looked down to see
that the cook had come out of the galley and presented himself before
his officers.
"Here!" cried the mate, "take this boy, cook, and set him to peel
potatoes and scour your pots. He'll never make a sailor."
"Na," whimpered the lad, "I didna come to sea to peel potatoes. My
mither said--"
Steve did not hear what Watty's "mither" had said, for the cook made a
rush at him, caught him by the scruff of the neck, and ran him into the
galley, closely followed by Skene-dhu, the dog, snapping and barking
at their heels in a way which hastened Watty's pace and stopped all
resistance.
Half laughing, half pitying the boy, but with a blending of contempt,
Steve resumed his climb, till, looking up, he found the Norwegian
sailor just above him.
"So you've come, eh, my lad?" he said in perfect English.
"Yes, I've come."
"Don't you feel scared?"
"No, not yet. I say, what's your name?"
"Johannes, sir. Well, are you going to help me?"
"Yes, if you show me what to do."

"Hand me the rails, my lad, one by one, shortest first, while I lash them
across from side to side."
"But what for?"
"What for, my lad? So that we can get into the crow's-nest when she's
hauled right up and made fast yonder."
"But why won't the ratlines do?"
"Because they wouldn't be handy, my lad. There, you'll soon see. Get
the shortest one ready," he continued, as he opened his big Norwegian
knife by pressing on a spring at the side, and holding it upside down,
when the long keen blade which lay in the handle dropped out to its full
length, and the removal of the thumb from the spring fixed it in its
place.
Then the man climbed a little higher up the shrouds, so that he could
reach to where they came to an end on the main topgallant mast, about
one-fourth of its length below the truck and halyards, thrust one leg
through between the ratlines, so as to twist it round and get a good hold,
leaving his hands free; and Steve at once followed his example, and
then loosened the shortest lath-like piece of wood. This done, and the
piece held ready, he had time to look about him, while the sailor
untwisted some of his stout tarred twine and cut it into short lengths
ready for use.
Steve's first look was, naturally enough, down at the deck, which now
seemed to be at a terrible depth below him, looking quite a hundred feet,
though it was not more than seventy, and the first thought which struck
him was: "Suppose I fell!" A thrill ran through him, and in imagination
he saw himself lying, broken and bleeding, on the white deck. But the
next instant he said to himself: "No; I shouldn't reach the deck, I should
go overboard into the sea. How deep down should I go?" and then he
clung there staring below him, till he was roused from the peculiar kind
of fascination by the sailor's voice.
"Now, master," he said; and Steve gave a kind of gasp as