The Young Trawler | Page 3

a hand?"
"That's just what I am," returned Billy, with a look of dignity which
was somewhat marred by a heavy lurch causing him to stagger. "I'm
part owner, d'ee see, an' ready to take command when the old man
retires, so you'd better mind your helm, young man, an' steer clear of
impudence in future, if you don't want to lead the life of a dog aboard
of this here smack."
"I'll try, sir," said Joe Davidson, touching his forelock, while a
humorous twinkle lit up his bright eyes.
"Hallo! Billy!" shouted the skipper, who was steering; "come here, boy.

You didn't come aboard to idle, you know; I've let you have a good
look at the sea all for nothin'. It's time now that you went to work to
larn your duties. Zulu!"
The last word caused a woolly head to protrude from the after
hatchway, revealing a youth about twice the size of Billy. Having some
drops of black blood in him this lad had been styled Zulu--and, being a
handy fellow, had been made cook.
"Here, take this boy below," said the skipper, "and teach him
something--anything you like, so long as you keep him at work. No
idlers allowed on board, you know."
"Yes, sar," said Zulu.
Billy was delighted to obey. He was naturally a smart, active fellow,
and not only willing, but proud, to submit to discipline. He descended a
short ladder into the little cabin with which he had become acquainted,
as a visitor, when the smack was in port on former occasions. With
Zulu he was also acquainted, that youth having been for some time in
his father's service.
"Kin you do cookin'?" asked Zulu with a grin that revealed an
unusually large cavern full of glistening teeth, mingled with more than
an average allowance of tongue and gums.
"Oh! I say," remonstrated Billy, "it's growed bigger than ever!"
Zulu expanded his mouth to its utmost, and shut his eyes in enjoyment
of the complimentary joke.
"Oh course it hab," he said on recovering; "I's 'bliged to eat so much at
sea dat de mout gits wider ebery trip. Dat leetle hole what you've got in
your face 'll git so big as mine fore long, Billy. Den you be like some
ob de leetle fishes we catch--all mout and no body worth mentioning.
But you no tell me yit: Kin you do cookin'?"
"Oh yes, I can manage a Yarmouth bloater," replied Billy.

"But," said Zulu, "kin you cook a 'tater widout makin' him's outside all
of a mush, an' him's inside same so as a stone?"
Instead of answering, Billy sat down on the settle which ran round the
cabin and looked up at his dark friend very solemnly.
"Hallo!" exclaimed Zulu.
"There--there's something wrong wi' me," said Billy, with a faint
attempt to smile as he became rather pale.
Seeing this, his friend quietly put a bucket beside him.
"I say, Zulu," observed the poor boy with a desperate attempt at
pleasantry, "I wonder what's up."
"Des nuffin' up yit but he won't be long," replied the young cook with a
look full of sympathy.
It would be unjust to our little hero to proceed further. This being, as
we have said, his first trip to sea, he naturally found himself, after an
hour or two, stretched out in one of the bunks which surrounded the
little cabin. There he was permitted to lie and think longingly of his
mother, surrounded by dense tobacco smoke, hot vapours, and greasy
fumes, until he blushed to find himself wishing, with all his heart, that
he had never left home!
There we will leave him to meditate and form useless resolves, which
he never carried out, while we introduce to the reader some of the other
actors in our tale.
CHAPTER TWO.
A CONTRAST TO CHAPTER I.
From that heaving grey wilderness of water called the North Sea we
pass now to that lively wilderness of bricks and mortar called London.

West-end mansions are not naturally picturesque or interesting subjects
either for the brush or the pen, and we would not willingly drag our
readers into one of them, did not circumstances--over which we have
not a shadow of control--compel us to do so.
The particular mansion to which we now direct attention belonged to a
certain Mrs Dotropy, whose husband's ancestors, by the way, were said
to have come over with the Conqueror--whether in his own ship or in
one of the bumboats that followed is not certain. They were De Tropys
at that time, but, having sunk in the social scale in the course of
centuries, and then risen again in succeeding centuries through the
medium of trade, they reappeared on the surface with their patronymic
transformed as now presented.
"Mother," said