The Crew of the Water Wagtail | Page 7

mates, and Paul Burns found
themselves assembled round the same fire.
But the two mates, it is right to add, were only sympathetic in a small
degree, because of their former position as officers, and their recent
imprisonment together. In reality they were men of no principle and of
weak character, whose tendency was always to throw in their lot with
the winning side. Being a little uncertain as to which was the winning
side that night, they had the wisdom to keep their own counsel.
Oliver presided over the culinary department.
"You see, I'm rather fond of cookin'," he said, apologetically, "that's
why I take it in hand."
"Ah, that comes of his bein' a good boy to his mother," said Master
Trench in explanation, and with a nod of approval. "Olly was always
ready to lend her a helpin' hand in the house at anything that had to be
done, which has made him a Jack-of-all-trades--cookin' among the rest,
as you see."
"A pity that the means of displaying his powers are so limited," said
Paul, who busied himself in levelling the ground beside the fire for
their beds.
"Limited!" exclaimed Trench, "you are hard to please, Master Paul; I
have lived on worse food than salt pork and pancakes."
"If so, father," said Oliver, as he deftly tossed one of the cakes into the
air and neatly caught it on its other side in the pan, "you must either
have had the pork without the pancakes or the pancakes without the
pork."
"Nay, Master Shallowpate, I had neither."
"What! did you live on nothing?"

"On nothing better than boiled sheepskin--and it was uncommon tough
as well as tasteless; but it is wonderful what men will eat when they're
starving."
"I think, father," returned the boy, as he tossed and deftly caught the
cake again, "that it is more wonderful what men will eat when they're
not starving! Of all the abominations that mortal man ever put between
his grinders, I think the worst is that vile stuff--"
He was interrupted by a sudden outbreak of wrath at the fire next to
theirs, where Big Swinton, Grummidge, and several others were
engaged, like themselves, in preparing supper.
"There will be trouble in the camp before long, I see plainly enough,"
remarked Paul, looking in the direction of the disputants. "These two
men, Swinton and Grummidge, are too well-matched in body and mind
and self-will to live at peace, and I foresee that they will dispute your
right to command."
"They won't do that, Paul," returned Trench quietly, "for I have already
given up a right which I no longer possess. When the Water Wagtail
went on the rocks, my reign came to an end. For the future we have no
need to concern ourselves. The man with the most powerful will and
the strongest mind will naturally come to the top--and that's how it
should be. I think that all the troubles of mankind arise from our
interfering with the laws of Nature."
"Agreed, heartily," replied Paul, "only I would prefer to call them the
laws of God. By the way, Master Trench, I have not yet told you that I
have in my possession some of these same laws in a book."
"Have you, indeed?--in a book! That's a rare and not altogether a safe
possession now-a-days."
"You speak the sober truth, Master Trench," returned Paul, putting his
hand into a breast-pocket and drawing forth the packet which contained
the fragment of the Gospel of John. "Persecution because of our beliefs
is waxing hotter and hotter just now in unfortunate England. However,

we run no risk of being roasted alive in Newfoundland for reading
God's blessed Word--see, there it is. A portion of the Gospel of John in
manuscript, copied from the English translation of good Master
Wycliffe."
"A good and true man, I've heard say," responded the skipper, as he
turned over the leaves of the precious document with a species of
solemn wonder, for it was the first time he had either seen or handled a
portion of the Bible. "Pity that such a friend of the people should not
have lived to the age o' that ancient fellow--what's his name--Thoosle,
something or other?"
"Methuselah," said Paul; "you're right there, Master Trench. What
might not a good man like Wycliffe have accomplished if he had been
permitted to live and teach and fight for the truth for nine hundred and
sixty-nine years?"
"You don't mean to say he lived as long as that?" exclaimed the boy,
looking up from his pots and pans.
"Indeed I do."
"Well, well! he must have been little better than a live mummy by the
end of that time!" replied Oliver, resuming his interest in his pots and
pans.
"But how came