Charlie Codmans Cruise 19
Antonio might more appropriately have compared himself to a serpent,
for his character had more of the subtlety of the noxious reptile than
of the boldness and freedom of the monarch of the forest.
Unconscious of the concealed listener to their discourse, Bill Sturdy
and our young friend continued their conversation. In the hours of
darkness, when night broods upon the ocean, and no sound is to be
heard save the dashing of the waves against the sides of the vessel,
the sailor who is obliged to stand his watch would find the hours pass
wearily if it were not for some method of killing the time. Among these
is the spinning of yarns, for which sailors are so noted. This it was
that occurred to Bill, as he stood with Charlie leaning over the side.
"I say, my lad, suppose we spin a yarn apiece, and that will make the
time pass quicker."
"But I am not an old sailor, Bill; I don't know anything about spinning
yarns."
"Tush, lad, I don't expect a salt-water yarn from you. I want a land
yarn. I am sure, you have read a good many, and can think of one now.
Just lead off, and when you get through, I'll try my hand at it."
Thus adjured, Charlie said, "Let me think a minute."
Bill leaned over the rail in silent expectation.
XIX.
CHARLIE'S LAND YARN.
Charlie deliberated a moment, when he chanced to think of Nicholas
Nickleby, the only one of Dickens's works he had ever read, and which,
as it had interested him exceedingly, had impressed itself upon his
remembrance.
"Did you ever hear of Nicholas Nickleby, Bill?" he inquired.
"Yes," was Bill's unexpected response; "when I was at Liverpool three
years ago, she was lying alongside our ship."
"She!" exclaimed Charlie, in amazement.
"Yes," answered Sturdy, in a matter-of-fact tone, "she was a very good
craft, and was in the West India trade. I saw considerable of her,
being as how I got acquainted with Tom Seagrove, one of the men on
board."
"Oh, yes, I see what you mean," said Charlie; "but I don't mean a ship,
I mean a story of the same name."
"No, I never heard of it. Named after the ship, like enough."
Charlie thought it more probable that the vessel was named after the
story, but as this was a point of little importance to the present
occasion, he passed it by, and continued, "Well, Bill, it's a very
interesting story, and as I remember that about as well as anything I
ever read, I believe I will tell you part of it."
"Heave ahead, my lad."
"You must know that this Nicholas Nickleby was a young man whose father
died when he was about nineteen, leaving him very little money, but a
mother and sister to provide for. He had an old uncle Ralph, who was
very rich, but an old rascal, who didn't trouble himself about his poor
relations."
"That's the way with a good many rich people," said Bill. "They leave
the smaller craft to shift for themselves."
"However, on being applied to, he did manage to get the sister a place
in a millinery establishment, and, as for Nicholas, he got him a place
as assistant teacher in a country boarding-school."
"He was a sort of first mate in the school, wasn't he?"
"Well, something like that, only he didn't fare half so well as a mate
or any kind of an officer. All the old fellow gave him for his services
was about twenty-five dollars a year and board."
"What made him ship on board the craft, then?"
"It was the only chance he had, so he thought he'd take it till he
could find a better."
"What was the captain's name?" asked Bill, who stuck to his marine
phraseology.
"His name was Squeers, and a tough old fellow he was. He had some
thirty or forty boarding scholars, whom he treated shamefully. In the
first place, he didn't allow them enough to eat."
"Why didn't they mutiny, and pitch the lubber overboard?" exclaimed
Bill, indignantly.
"Because he had starved the spirit out of them. Besides, they were
mostly small, and he had a wife as bad as himself, as well as a
daughter who was----"
"A chip of the old block."
"Exactly. Do you want to know how he took away their appetites so that
they wouldn't eat so much? He used to make them swallow a spoonful of
boiling hot molasses, which scalded their throats, and made it hard for
them to swallow."
"I'd like to have overhauled him," said Sturdy.
"If you had, I don't believe there'd have been much left of him, for he
was a spindling sort of a man, tall and thin."
"And how did the young fellow like his place?"
"Not very much. He found they were going to half-starve him, too.
However, he wouldn't have minded that so much as seeing the poor
children abused. While all this was going on, the school-master's
daughter fell in love with him."
"Was she pretty?"
"No," said Charlie. "She was the image of her father, and he wasn't
anything of a beauty. She was thin, with a hatchet face and yellow
hair. However, she continued to make herself think that Nicholas was
in love with her, and one day, when her father and mother were gone
to London to get a new scholar, she posted off to a female friend of
hers, and told her that she had got a beau, and invited her friend and
her beau to come to tea. When tea-time came, there they all were in
the sitting-room, drinking tea, and faring a great deal better than
Nicholas had before, since he had been at the school, when the other
young lady and her beau began to poke fun at Nicholas, all on account
of Matilda Squeers, whom they supposed him to be in love with. He
didn't understand it at all, and told them so.
"'Why,' said John Brodie,--that was the other girl's beau,--'ain't you
courtin' Tilda, here?'
"Nicholas protested that he never so much as thought of the thing.
At this, Matilda turned all sorts of colors, for she had confidently
told both of them that he was in love with her, and, besides, she had
no idea that a poor, under-paid teacher would think of refusing her,
the----"
"Captain's daughter," suggested Bill Sturdy.
"Exactly so. So you see the tea-party didn't end quite so pleasantly
as it began, and from that moment Nicholas had a bitter enemy in the
daughter of his employer."
"That's the way with female craft," said Bill. "What happened next?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Squeers came home, bringing the new boy with them. The
first thing they did was to give a whipping all round, to make up for
the time they'd been away."
"I wish I'd been there," said Bill, swinging his brawny arms.
"Among the scholars was one, worse treated than the rest, named Smike.
He had been with them ever since he was a boy of six or eight, and his
friends had deserted him. Mr. Squeers would have cast him off, only he
found his work more than paid for the scanty food he ate, so he kept
him; but he was so beaten and cuffed, and made to drudge so constantly,
that it would have been better for him if he had been turned away. At
last he determined to run away."
"Good for him!" said Bill.
"As soon as Mr. Squeers found he was gone, he went after him post
haste, and, as the boy was weak and couldn't travel very fast, he soon
overtook him, and brought him back, bound hand and foot, in the chaise.
He suspected that Nicholas had helped Smike to escape, so he determined
to inflict a cruel punishment upon him in presence of his assistant.
Accordingly, he armed himself with a large whip, and, calling all the
school together, he told Smike to strip, and was just about to lay
the whip on his naked back when Nicholas shouted out 'Stop!' Squeers
glared round, and said in a fierce voice, 'Who said that?' 'I said it,'
said Nicholas; 'I tell you, stop!' Squeers turned white with rage,
and threatened to whip Nicholas, also. He was about to commence the
punishment, when Nicholas sprang from his seat, and, pulling the whip
from his hand, knocked Squeers over, and began to belabor him with his
own whip."
"Good!" exclaimed Bill, who had become much interested in the
narrative. "I hope he made him scream for mercy."
"So he did, and Nicholas kept on belaboring him, notwithstanding Mrs.
Squeers and her daughter went at him tooth and nail, and tried to pull
him off. But he was so excited with anger that he felt strong enough to
cope with half a dozen, and never left off till Squeers was black and
blue and aching all over."
"Hurrah for Nicholas!" shouted Bill Sturdy, in great delight, at the
school-master's discomfiture. "What happened next?"
"Nicholas packed up his clothes and left the house, but took care to
carry Smike with him, knowing that he would otherwise fare badly."
"And what became of Nicholas afterwards? Did he reach port?"
"He met with a variety of adventures, but at length became rich and
happy."
"That's a pretty good yarn," said Bill Sturdy. "I should have liked to
help him whip the school-master, though."
"Now, Bill, I am ready to hear your yarn," said Charlie.
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