The Gentleman | Page 5

rams him down the hill for Newhaven."
He began to push at the oars again.
"For there's two roads to Birling Gap, my lad: one by land, and one by
sea. We've missed him by land. Now we'll see what the Jack-tars can
do."
IV
The boy said nothing. His eyes were on his ship, dim above him in the
mist.
She was in rags and tatters: so much he could see, and little else. Yet to
him she seemed to glow in the dusk. He saw her through blurred eyes
in a cloud of glory, and his heart thrilled to her.
She was his ship; that ship of which he had dreamed ever since he
could dream, this boy born to the sea.
And was he not proud of her?
Shivering like a lover, he brought up alongside; and as he did so he
thrust out a hand to feel the wooden ribs which covered that heart of
valour.
For was she not the little _Tremendous_, of whom the heroic tales were
told!

CHAPTER III
THE GUNNER OF THE SLOOP
Swiftly and silently the Tremendous spread her wings in the dusk.
The riding-officer was going over the side.
"Good luck, sir!" he said. "Make a cop; and Pitt'll thank you on his
knees."
For all answer the block-of-granite little man by the wheel turned his
back.
"Cut the cable!" he barked. "Set studdin-sails alow and aloft! Inboard
side-lights! Boniface, take a party of small-arm men forrad, and keep a
sharp look-out!"
Before the riding-officer had dropped into the dinghy, the Tremendous
began to slap the water, shaking out ragged topsails as she slid out of
the harbour, a misty rain shrouding her.
"There's a row-boat coming up astern, sir," ventured the boy--"rowing
like mad."
"I have ears, sir, and I'm usin em," snapped the other, and stumped
forward, leaning heavily on a stick, thick and surly as himself.
They were the first words he had spoken to the lad, this
block-of-granite little man, across whose knees his father had died at St.
Vincent; and the boy did not find them encouraging.
"Send im victoriush, Appee and gloriush, Long to reign o er--i--ush,
Goshave----
"Uncle George!" bawled a bibulous voice. "Row, ye devil, row!--or I'll
split y'up, and chuck y'overboard."

A boat pelted up under the counter of the sloop. The singer rose
suddenly, clutched at a man-rope, and came swinging up the side.
The light of the binnacle-lamp fell upon him.
He was a tall fellow, with bushy black whiskers, a long tallowy nose
that in some old-time battle had been broken, and eyes with a wild wet
gleam in them. Now he sheered up against the bulwark, waving
riotously.
"Three cheers for the lirrel _Tremendous_! Ooray! ray! ray!--We're alf
our ship's company short. There's only old Ding-dong left on the
quar'er-deck. I'm drunk as David's sow. And we're off to cur out the
Grand Armee. Ooray! ray! ray!" and he fell hiccoughing away into
foolish laughter.
"Hadn't you better go below?" said a pure treble at his side. "You're
beastly drunk."
The man pulled himself together, and stared through the gloom.
"Lumme!" he whispered. "A tottie!--a tottie for Lushy!... Lemme
cuddle ye, darlin, do."
"I'm a midshipman," said the boy briefly. "Shut up; and behave
yourself."
The man tried to stand up, and swept off his hat.
"Ow de do, sir? Ow de do? By all means ow de do? Lemme introjuice
you all round. I'm Mr. Lanyon, commonly called Lushy, because? one?
me failins: Gunner aboard this packet by rights, and Actin Fust
Lieutenant by the grace o God--there bein no one else to act, see? This
ere," he continued, smacking the bulwark, "is
His--Majesty's--ship--_Tremendous_, well known and respected
between the Lizard and the Nore. Not lookin her sauciest just now, I
grant you: shrouds tore to tatters, mizzen spliced, bowsprit splintered,
plugged fore and aft, and alf her weather bulwark carried away. But

that's _ex tempore_, as the sayin is. We only put in at dawn to refit, and
land wounded."
"Where's she been?" asked the boy.
"Been!" cried the other with rollicking laughter. "That's a good un.
Ere's a kid ain't eard where we been. Been!" the sudden thunder in his
voice. "Why, in Boulong Arbour among Boney's craft. H'in and h'out,
under Nap's nose. Stormed the Arbour Battery; set the gun-vessels afire;
and came out under their guns, colours at the truck, and the bosun's boy
in the mizzenchains singin--
O it's a snug little island, A right little tight little island."
He clutched the boy's shoulder, and thrust flaming eyes into his.
"Old man's got a game leg since Camperdown. Fust Lieutenant led the
landin party--Mr. Wrot. Dessay you've heard tell of him. Dry Wrot,
they called him. Tubby little bloke, all belly and big voice.