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Chapter Six
The Reappearance of Digby’s Evil Genius – A Trawling Expedition – How the Guns of the Old Fort went off
Digby was to all appearance getting on very well with Mr Nugent; a watchful eye was upon him; he had steady companions, older than himself, who were not inclined to lead him into temptation, while old Toby contributed much to keep him out of harm’s way. It may very well be doubted whether this was the best sort of training for a lad of his disposition and the style of life for which he was intended. He would be called upon to mix with the world, to associate with all sorts of people, and to go through the ordeal of a public school and college. One important point was in his favour; his uncle was endeavouring to instil into him good principles, and to make him love, and comprehend, and follow the only light which could guide him on his onward path through life – the Bible. Digby listened oftentimes earnestly, always complaisantly, to what his uncle said to him, and thinking that listening to what was good was of itself a virtuous act, he began to fancy that he had grown into a reformed and very steady character. He might not have found out his mistake, had not a new boy come to his tutor’s; his coming was spoken of some time before he made his appearance. Who he could be was the question. At length a carriage drove up to the door, and out of it stepped Julian Langley.
“Ah, Digby, how de ye do, how de ye do?” exclaimed Julian in an affected way, putting out his hand. “Introduce me to your friends. We are to be companions for some time, I’m told, so we may as well become intimate at once.”
Digby welcomed his old friend, and mentioned his name, but Easton and the other boys could not resist imitating his affected way of talking.
“How de ye do, how de ye do, Langley?” they exclaimed, laughing; while Marshall turned away, somewhat disgusted with the little jackanapes as he called him.
Julian, however, soon made himself at home. He had never held Digby in very high estimation, simply because he found that he could so easily lead him, and he therefore fancied that he should have a good right to look down upon his new companions. His reasoning was not very sound, and they were in no way inclined to be looked down upon. On the contrary, though they were all well disposed to treat him civilly, they showed no disposition to allow him to become very intimate with them. Marshall, indeed, very soon let him know what he thought of him, but it took a great deal to make Master Julian in any way dissatisfied with himself, or any of his belongings, or anything that he had done. It appeared unfortunate for Digby that Julian Langley should have been sent to Mr Nugent’s. Mr Langley finding at last that his son was getting into mischief at home, and hearing that his friend Heathcote had sent his boy to Mr Nugent, wrote to ask if he would take charge of him. Mr Nugent only knew that he was a friend of his brother-in-law, and without making any inquiries as to the character of the boy, at once agreed to receive him under his roof. One afternoon, a few days after Julian’s arrival, Mr Nugent announced that he had engaged a vessel for the following morning, and that he hoped the long talked-of trawling expedition would at length take place. The weather was fine, the sea was smooth, and there appeared every prospect of their enjoying a pleasant day.
“I don’t think that you have been much on the water, Julian,” said Digby. “I wonder how you will like it.”
“Very much, as you all seem to do,” answered Julian, superciliously. “You don’t suppose that I should be afraid of the water?”
“Not afraid of it exactly; but it makes people who are not often on it feel very queer, I know,” observed Digby.
“It might such a fellow as you,” replied Julian, who never lost an opportunity of showing how superior he thought himself to Digby. “I’ll tell you what though, I should take very good care that it doesn’t upset me. I’m above that sort of thing.”
Had Marshall, or Easton, or Power overheard him, how they would have laughed at the nonsense he was talking. All the evening Mr Nugent and Marshal were preparing the jars, and bottles, and boxes for preserving the specimens of marine zoology which they hoped to dredge up. The next morning proved as bright and beautiful as it had promised to be, and a very merry party embarked on board the Mermaid, a cutter of thirty tons, with a crew of six men besides Toby Tubb, who went as master. The fishing ground selected for the day was about four miles off the mouth of the harbour, and they had a fair though a light breeze to take them there.
“It may at first appear strange that one spot of ground should be suitable for trawling and not another,” observed Mr Nugent, as they sailed away from the shore. “There are several reasons for this. One is, that the flat fish which are to be caught feed only among certain weeds, to which their prey is attached, or among which they live; then, again, the trawl cannot be used over rough and rocky ground. Trawlers, therefore, generally drag their nets over smooth and shallow spots, where there is little chance of their being lost. They of course also prefer shallow places, where the net has not so far to descend. Besides the trawl-net, I am going to use a dredge, with which I hope to bring up shells and various specimens of marine zoology, which might be spoilt in the net.”
Mr Nugent’s dredge was a canvas bag, stretched on an oblong iron frame, with iron plates attached to it to serve as scrapers. Drawn along the bottom, as he explained, shells, and crabs, and other slow-moving animals were easily swept into it.
The trawl-net Digby examined with some curiosity. One end was stretched along a stout beam, with small but heavy iron triangles at each end. Just above the beam is a long bag, into which whatever the beam stirs up is forced. Fish, when touched by the beam, dart into the net, thinking that it is the way out, and soon get entangled in its meshes. Ropes are attached to each end of the beam, and they serve also to keep the well part of the net stretched upwards, and at the same time leaning forwards. Toby showed him exactly how it would work when it got to the bottom.
Julian looked on with a supercilious air, as if such matters were entirely beneath his notice.
“You little think, young gentlemen, of the immense number of vessels engaged in this work. There are some firms which own from a hundred and fifty to two hundred vessels, all more than twice the size of this one. Each vessel carries a hundred men, and they fish in fleets, from twenty to two hundred miles off the coast. Some go to the mouth of the Texel, and they remain out six weeks and two months together, fishing every day. Vessels employed as carriers tiring them provisions, and ice in which to pack their fish and carry them away. Little do you think, when you are eating a piece of turbot, how far it has come, and what trouble it has cost to bring it to you in a fresh state.”
By this time they reached the trawling-ground, and the great beam and its net was cast overboard, and the two ropes which were fastened to it were secured, one to the fore part and one to the after part of the vessel. Her peak was lowered, as also was the throat. The tack was triced up, the foresail hauled down, and a small jib only set. Thus, under easy sail, she slowly dragged on her net.
If there is any swell, a vessel feels it, thus partially anchored, much more than when she is under weigh. This Julian discovered to his cost. At first he was very proud of himself, as he walked about, and talked of going into the navy. Now, however, he became very silent, and grew yellower and yellower.
Slowly and gently the little vessel moved to the heaving wave.
“And that same voice which bade the Romans mark him, and write his sayings in their books, cried, ‘Give me some drink, Titanus,’ like a sick girl – ” said Marshall, who had been watching poor Julian with a look in which there was very little commiseration.
Julian said nothing, but he showed more and more of the white of his eyes, and his lips curled in a very peculiar and ominous way.
“Wouldn’t you like to come to sea with me?” asked Easton. “It’s a jolly life fellows lead there. Plenty of fat pork and peas pudding.”
Julian shut his eyes, and would not reply, but his efforts to ward off the evidence of the malady from which he was suffering were perfectly fruitless. He had to rush to the side, and I need not describe what followed. He threw himself down on the deck, looking the picture of woe and wretchedness. Had he not already given himself so many airs, and made himself so disagreeable, he would undoubtedly have obtained the commiseration of his companions. As it was, no one except Digby pitied him, and even he could not feel very sorry for his discomforts. However, he went and sat down by him, and began to speak a few kind words, but Julian received his attentions in so uncourteous a way that he was not sorry to get up and watch the proceedings of the fishermen.
The trawl had not been down an hour, when it was resolved to haul it up. All hands were required for this, and everybody helped except Julian, who declared that he was too ill to move.
By slow degrees the ropes were hauled in, and at last the beam appeared, and a considerable portion of the net.
“Why, where are all the fish?” exclaimed Digby, who expected to see them sticking about in the net.
“Wait till we get the purse aboard, and then we’ll see what we have caught,” remarked old Toby, leaning over to secure the mouth of the said purse, or bag. “I see something big walloping about in it, at all events.”
Now came the most exciting moment – to discover the results of the hour’s trawling.
Fishermen do not always catch fish, but Mr Nugent was sure that numberless living things would be brought up in which he would be interested.
“Now see what we’ve got! see what we’ve got!” shouted Marshall, with all the enthusiasm of a naturalist; nor was Mr Nugent much less excited.
Up came the purse, with a mass of living things floundering and wriggling, and twisting about, with one huge monster in the centre. A part of the deck was sunk for the purpose, and into it the whole living mass was turned.
“Well, it isn’t often I’ve seen such a haul as this,” exclaimed Toby; “but take care, young gentlemen, that big fellow don’t catch hold of any of your fingers. He’d have them off in no time. We’ll haul him up out of that, or he’ll be knocking all Mr Nugent’s curiosities to pieces with his tail.”
“What is it, what is it?” was the question asked by all. Even Mr Nugent could not tell.
The monster at which they were gazing was fully six feet long, almost flat, of a dark brown colour, and a rough shark-like skin, with a huge broad head, and very widely-extended side fins.
Toby replied, “Some calls him an angel, and others a monk-fish, or a flat shark; but to my mind he’s very little of the angel about him, and if he’s a monk he’s a very ugly monk, you’ll all allow. He is very strong. If you were to stand on him, master Digby, he would lift you up.”
Digby did stand on him, and the huge fish gave a heave, and a snap with his jaws which made him jump off at a great rate.
“What, did you think the monk was going to leap overboard with you?” exclaimed Power, laughing.
“Indeed I did,” answered Digby, “I’m sure he felt as if he would.”
Meantime Mr Nugent was examining the rest of the contents of the purse, while the trawl, having been once more let down, was towing astern.
Two large skates were hauled out, and Digby came aft to look at them. They were perfectly flat, and had long thin tails, with spines on them, their pectoral or side fins being very wide. “It would puzzle any one to cut their heads off,” he observed.
“Why, Digby?” asked his uncle.
“Because they have not the slightest approach to a neck,” he answered. “If I had to describe one, I should say that it was more like a toy-shop kite than any other thing in shape. But I see there’s something else below all the seaweed and crabs, and other things. Stay, I’ll get it out.”
Mr Nugent was examining some of the living things he had picked out.
Digby stooped down to get hold of what he saw, but very quickly drew back his hand. “Some one has hit me on the arm,” he exclaimed, “or I have been stung, or something or other has happened. I cannot make out what, but it’s very disagreeable, that I know.”
“Let me see,” said Mr Nugent, taking the boat-hook and clearing away the weeds and mud. “Ah, we are indeed fortunate. We have caught a fine specimen of a somewhat rare fish. It is the torpedo, or electric ray. See, the body forms an almost circular disc; the tail, too, is much shorter than that possessed by the other skate we have got. You may well say that it has no neck. It gave you, Digby, the shock you complained of. We will examine its galvanic apparatus. We shall find it on either side, consisting of a number of tubes, having much the appearance of a honeycomb. Its peculiar property is given to it that it may benumb its prey, and, perhaps, digest it more easily. Animals killed by lightning more quickly decompose than those destroyed in other ways, and they do not grow stiff. This electric skate can emit the very same substance as lightning, and though a very small quantity entered into your body, it caused you some pain. When in the water, possessed of all its vigour, it may be supposed that it can very easily destroy the smaller fry on which it feeds.”
“I am very glad that the brute hadn’t its full vigour, for it has hurt me considerably as it is,” answered Digby.
Besides the skates, the net had brought up half a dozen good soles and a large supply of crabs of various sizes and descriptions, star-fish, jelly-fish, shrimps, and other crustacea, all of which were examined by Mr Nugent, and the best specimens transferred to his jars, and pots, and bottles. There were some hermit crabs among them, who had taken possession of various shells, but one or two unfortunate fellows had been caught while in the act of changing their homes, and had no covering for their nakedness. The head and shoulders were like those of a lobster, but the lower extremities were perfectly soft.
Mr Nugent explained how they have to look out for an unoccupied shell, or perhaps eat up the occupant, and then wriggle in their own tails.
The hermit crab grows bigger, but the shell does not, so, when he feels his tail pinched, he has to look out for a larger home. It is amusing to watch him crawling along, examining shell after shell, till he has discovered one to his satisfaction. Then, when he has ascertained that it is unoccupied, he whisks his tail out of one and as rapidly pops it into the new one.
Mr Nugent pointed out that one claw was much larger than the other, and he showed how, when the hermit wishes to withdraw itself into its shell, he can perfectly coil himself away by doubling up the little claw and closing the larger one over it.
Digby was really much interested in the number of star-fish, and shells, and sea-weeds, and many other things, about which his uncle did not think it wise to enter on long explanations to him.
With the next haul of the trawl they were not nearly so successful, giving them an idea of the precarious nature of the fisherman’s calling; while in the third there was scarcely a fish, but Mr Nugent pronounced it more prolific than any of the former ones to him.
It was now time to return home. The net was thoroughly washed, and then triced up in the rigging, while the beam was lashed alongside.
Julian had begun to recover, but he was very unlike himself, and not at all inclined to talk and boast; indeed, Power remarked that he had never seen him so agreeable since he had come to Osberton.
Digby had been examining the crustacea with grave attention, the lobsters, crabs, and shrimps, when, lifting up one, he exclaimed, “It’s very odd; I always thought they were red. How is it, uncle, that these are black?”
A loud laugh from his companions was their reply to the question.
“You are thinking of the lobsters you have seen brought to the table cooked, and ready to be eaten,” observed Mr Nugent. “But go on, Digby, never be ashamed of asking questions, although, now and then, they may bring down a laugh upon you. It would fare but ill with the poor crabs and lobsters if they were not black, or rather of the colour of the rocks and weeds among which they live. Their colour thus enables them to escape detection from the sharp-sighted fish, which are constantly swimming rapidly about in search of them, and, in spite of their coats-of-mail, easily gobble them up. But I was going to show you this little pea-crab, Pinnotheres. He is said to have established a friendship with the inhabitant of a bivalve shell, the Pinna, or Sea-wing. When he wants to go out in search of food, the Pinna opens her shell, and lets him out. He, argus-eyed, watches the approach of their mutual enemy, the Polypus, and instantly rushes back, and by his return giving notice of danger, the shell closes, and both are safe. Otherwise the Polypus might get one of his rays inside the Pinna, and destroy its vitality in a moment, or he might touch the crab, and kill it in the same way. When the pea-crab discovers a supply of food he brings it to his friend, the Pinna, to be divided equally. I will not vouch for the truth of this account; and I am afraid that Master Pinnotheres has some more interested motive in his attachment, and may, in the end, eat up his friend, the Pinna, out of house and home.”
This and many other interesting accounts Mr Nugent gave to his pupils on the return trip. Sometimes he even won the attention of Julian, who condescended to smile at his anecdotes. That young gentleman got a good deal better by the time he reached the shore, but he was not himself all the evening, and went fast asleep while Mr Nugent and his fellow-pupils were examining some of the marine insects they had brought home in their jars, through the microscope.
Several days passed away, and, to all appearance, Julian had gained a lesson from which he had profited, not to think so much of himself. He had found out that others could be brisk and sprightly under circumstances which made him dull and wretched, and that they also knew a great deal more about all sorts of things than he did. To his surprise he found that his tutor, and Marshall, and Power, knew even far more about horses, and dogs, and game of all sorts, than he did. His knowledge was confined to the limited range of his father’s park, and to such information as the grooms and gamekeepers had given him. They knew where the various races came from, their habits in their wild state when they were introduced into England, and they had read about sporting in all parts of the world. He thus found himself instantly put down, as he called it, when he began to talk in an authoritative way on what he had been taught to consider the most important subjects for the attention of a gentleman.
Bad habits and erroneous notions are not without much difficulty eradicated; and so Julian Langley very soon forgot the lesson he had received, and began to think and act very much in his old way. “I say, Digby, the way we have to go on here is horribly slow work,” he observed one day, when he and his old companion were alone. “Don’t you think, now, we could put each other up to some fun or other. I want to do something to astonish the natives down here.”
Digby said he could not think of anything just then, but that he would try. They were strolling along the beach; it was a fine autumn day, but fresh. “I vote we have a run,” said Digby. “It’s cold.”
They ran on till they reached the old castle, of which I have before spoken. Julian never liked running, so he proposed going in and sitting down in a sunny sheltered spot under the walls. There were six or eight cannon of large size mounted on very rotten honeycombed carriages in the fort. They had not been fired within the memory of man, but they every few years received a coat of paint, which prevented them turning into rust; and a superannuated gunner from the Royal Artillery, with much ceremony, cleaned them out of the stones and rubbish which the children in the neighbourhood had thrown into them. Once upon a time they might have proved very serviceable weapons for defending the entrance to the harbour.
“I say, Digby, what do you say to letting off one of those big fellows one of these days? It would make a great row, and astonish people not a little,” exclaimed Julian, after eyeing the guns for some time.
“We should get into a great row if we did, I suspect,” answered Digby. “I don’t think that it would be worth while to try.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Julian. “I mean that no one should find out who did it; that would be the great fun. We should hear people talking of the explosion, and what it was, and how it could have happened, and all that sort of thing, and we should be laughing in our sleeves all the time. Oh, it would be rare fun. Besides, it is not going to do anybody any harm, you know.”
It did not occur to either of the boys that it might do them a very great deal of harm, and perhaps kill them.
Digby was very soon won over to agree to Julian’s proposal. It suited his taste, and he also thought that it would be rare fun. How to carry out their scheme was the question. Their great difficulty was to procure gunpowder in sufficient quantities to load the gun without leading suspicions on themselves.
When mischief was to be done Julian was very acute, so indeed was Digby. They agreed to buy half a pound at a time at different places; Julian was to go to one place, Digby to another. They were both amply supplied with money; and as Digby did not care very much for cakes, he generally had some to spare. Julian was always ready, by the by, to borrow it of him. Their plans were soon arranged. The event which was to astonish the natives was to be brought about on as early a day as possible. Instead of going home together they separated. Julian went to one shop, Digby to another, to make their first purchase of gunpowder. Fortunately for Digby, the master of the shop was absent, and a shop-boy served him out the powder without asking any questions, merely remarking, “I suppose you young gentlemen want to let off fireworks on the fifth of November? This won’t make many, though.” Had the master asked him, he would have answered probably, “Give me the powder, and I’ll pay you for it;” or he would have held his tongue, and perhaps by his looks betrayed himself.
Julian, meantime, went to the great shop of the place, where groceries, hardware, ironmongery, and even chemical drugs, soaps, and perfumery, were sold; indeed, it would have been difficult to point out what Mr Simson did not sell.
“What do you want all this gunpowder for, young gentleman?” asked Mr Simson.
“To make fireworks, to be sure,” answered Julian, in an angry tone. “I wonder you ask.”
“No offence, sir, but I like to know when young gentlemen get things of a dangerous character that they will do no harm with them. I should never forgive myself if I hadn’t warned you, and you blew yourself up. Remember, a spark falling into that paper of powder would kill any one near, and, perhaps, set the house on fire. You are at Mr Nugent’s, I presume?”
“Yes, I am,” answered Julian, in an angry tone. “Is there anything else you want to know?”
“Oh, I beg pardon, young gentleman; I did not want to offend you,” said the kind-hearted Mr Simson. “You know that I cannot be too cautious about these matters.”
“You can be too officious,” growled Julian, as he left the shop.
Digby and Julian met at Mr Nugent’s door. They had now got a pound of powder between them; but Julian said that was not nearly enough.
The next day they would go again, and each to ask in the other’s name for another half pound.
Julian walked boldly into Mr Simson’s shop as if nothing had happened, and said that one of his fellow-pupils wanted to manufacture some fireworks, and begged to have another small quantity – half a pound would not be too much. He got it; not, however, without creating some suspicion in Mr Simson’s mind that Mr Nugent would not approve of what his pupils were about. This feeling was increased when, a day or two afterwards, Digby appeared, and asked for another half pound. Three half pounds were likewise procured from Mr Jones’s small shop. Mr Jones made some remarks, however, to Julian which, at first, rather frightened him.
“I suppose, sir, you wouldn’t mind Mr Nugent knowing that you have all that powder now, would you?” said the shopkeeper, eyeing him keenly; “well, I didn’t say that I was going to talk about it to him, and I hope that I may have the pleasure of your custom.”
Julian assured Mr Jones that he would patronise him, and, with his usual dignified air, strutted out of the shop.
“I’ll tell you what, Digby,” said he, when the two fellow-pupils next met, “we must not be in too great a hurry to fire the gun. If we do, we shall be found out. Old Simson and that fellow Jones already smell a rat, so we must be cautious; I’ll tell you another thing, too, I’ve been thinking, that it won’t do to fire it by daytime, we should be seen by somebody near the place and suspected. It will have much greater effect if we let it off in the middle of the night. We can easily get out of window and be back again in a few minutes. What say you? there will be great fun in it.”
The spice of danger in the adventure had especial charms for Digby, and without taking anything else into consideration, he willingly consented to all Julian proposed.
It is extraordinary how quiet and out of mischief this notable scheme of the two young gentlemen kept them. They could think of nothing else. Whenever they thought no one was observing them, they went together to the old castle, and ascertained the best means of entering it and escaping again over the ramparts. There was no great difficulty or danger in doing that, even on a dark night.
Three or four weeks passed away – The Holidays were approaching – They could no longer resist their desire to make the attempt.
“Digby,” said Julian, as they were walking out together, “we must do it to-night. It will be dark, but it is perfectly calm and dry. Are you ready to do it?”
Digby answered that he was.
“Then to-night the affair shall come off,” exclaimed Julian. “I’ve got the rope we knotted all ready; I’ll get it out of my box, and stow it away under my bed. I wish the time was come; it will be glorious fun.”
How very demurely the two young gentlemen sat up that evening in the drawing-room, and pretended to be busily reading, though their thoughts were certainly not on their books; indeed, had Mr Nugent asked them what they were reading about, they would have been puzzled to give a satisfactory reply.
At last bed-time came, and the whole family retired to their rooms.
Mr Nugent made a practice of getting up early and never sat up late, except in a case of necessity, when he had some work of importance to finish. The boys, therefore, calculated that he would be asleep soon after eleven. The house was a large one, the elder boys had, therefore, rooms to themselves; but Julian and Digby slept in the same room on the first floor, and their window looked into the garden. All these circumstances were favourable to their design. Finding that there was a bolt on the door, they secured it. They did not undress, but, having put out their light, sat upon the foot of their beds whispering to each other till they thought everybody would be asleep. They then relighted their candle, and Julian, wetting some of their gunpowder, made a compound well known by the name of a Vesuvius; this he did up in a piece of paper. They then poured most of their powder into a pocket-handkerchief. It was a mercy that they did not blow themselves and indeed the house up. They stuffed their pockets full of paper, the rest of the powder, and some old handkerchiefs. Julian had not forgotten to provide a thick stick to serve as a rammer. The next thing they did was to fasten one end of their knotted rope to a bar across their window.
“Now all’s ready. Come along, Digby,” exclaimed Julian.
Digby descended first at the request of his companion, who wanted to ascertain whether the rope was properly secured before he trusted himself on it; finding it was safe, he followed. They looked about them as if they had been young thieves, to ascertain that they were not watched, and then crossing the lawn, they scrambled over a high wall, and ran on as hard as they could go towards the old fort.
It was close upon midnight when they reached the walls. They clambered in, and having selected a gun which pointed down directly on the harbour, they commenced the operation of loading.
“We must put in the handkerchief and all,” whispered Julian.
This was done, taking care to allow the powder to escape sufficiently at the upper side to communicate with the touch-hole. Then they rammed in a quantity of paper.
“Now let’s have some shot,” said Julian, “saw yesterday a pile of large gravel-stones, they will do famously.”
Some gravel-stones, or rather some large lumps of flint were found and rammed in, and the remainder of their paper was rammed in after them. Never before, probably, had the old gun been so fully charged. The nervous time was approaching. They filled the touch-hole with gunpowder, and on the top of it Julian placed his Vesuvius.
“We’ve got powder enough for another gun,” said he, feeling in his pockets; “haven’t you more?”
“Yes,” answered Digby, “I’ve got enough to load a gun almost.”
So they poured nearly all that they had remaining into Julian’s silk pocket-handkerchief, and rammed it into another gun. They filled it up with stones, and then rammed in what little paper they could collect, and as that was not enough, Julian insisted on Digby’s sacrificing his pocket-handkerchief also. Digby did so without a murmur, though I do not know what Mrs Barker or Mrs Carter would have said to the proceeding. He filled up the touch-hole of that gun also, and placed a Vesuvius over it.
