The Cruise of the Shining Light by Norman Duncan (the best ebook reader for android txt) 📕

sort o' do me good."

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I ran on, fast as my legs would carry me (which was not very fast). 'Twas the departing whistle; the mail-boat had come and gone--I saw her lights, shining warmly in the dark, grow small as she fared out through the narrows to the sea. It began to rain in great drops; overhead 'twas all black--roundabout a world of looming shadows, having lights, like stars, where the cottages were set on the hills. I made haste on my way; and as I pattered on over the uneven road to the neck of land by the Lost Soul, I blamed myself right heartily, regretting my uncle's disappointment, in that the expected guest would already have arrived, landed by way of my uncle's punt. And, indeed, the man was there, as I learned: for my uncle met me on the gravelled path of our garden, to bid me, but not with ill-temper, begone up-stairs and into clean linen and fitting garments, which were laid out and waiting (he said) on my bed. And when, descending in clean and proper array, bejewelled to suit the occasion, by my uncle's command, I came to the best room, I found there a young man in black, scarce older, it seemed, than myself.

"This here young man, Dannie," says my uncle, with a flourish, "is your tutor."

I bowed.

"Imported direck," adds my uncle, "from Lon'on."

My tooter? It sounded musical: I wondered what the young man blew--but shook hands, in the Chesterfieldian manner (as best I had mastered it), and expressed myself (in such Chesterfieldian language as I could recall in that emergency) as being delighted to form an acquaintance so distinguished.

"Well done!" cries my uncle, past containing his pride in the Chesterfieldian achievement. "Sir Harry hisself couldn't beat it!"

The young man laughed pleasantly.


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IMPORTED DIRECT

I laughed, too, unable to help it, and my uncle guffawed, in his large way; and then we all laughed like tried friends together: so that 'twas plain, being thus at once set upon agreeable terms, with no shyness or threat of antipathy to give ill ease, that we three strange folk were well-met in the wide world. 'Twas cosey in the best room: a lively blaze in the fireplace, the room bright with lamplight, warm with the color of carpet and tapestried mahogany, spotless and grand, as I thought, in every part; ay, cosey enough, with good company well-met within, the risen wind clamoring through the night, the rain lashing the black panes, the sea rumbling upon the rocks below, and, withal, a savory smell abroad in goodly promise. My uncle, grown fat as a gnome in these days, grotesquely fashioned, miscellaneously clothed as ever, stood with legs wide upon the black wolf's-skin, his back to the fire, his great hands clasped over his paunch, lying as upon a shelf; regarding the direct importation and myself, the rise of my admiration, the room, the whole world, indeed, visible and invisible, with delight so boyish that 'twas good to watch the play of satisfaction upon his fantastic countenance, which now rippled and twinkled from his black cravat to his topmost scars and bristles. Well-met were we three folk; ay, no doubt: I was in a glow of content with this new fortune.

'Tis strange how the affections fall....

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My tutor, John Cather, as his name turned out to be, was older than I, after all--my elder by five years, I fancied, with age-wise ways and a proud glance to overawe my youth, were need of it to come: a slight, dark-skinned man, clean-featured, lean-cheeked, full-lipped, with restless dark eyes, thin, olive-tinted hands, black hair, worn overlong, parted in the manner of a maid and falling upon his brow in glossy waves, which he would ruffle into disorder, with the air of knowing what he was about. He was clad all in black, for the reason, he said, that he aspired to holy orders: well-kept black, edged with linen of the whitest, and not ill cut, according to my uncle's fashion-plates, but sadly worn at the seams and everywhere brushed near threadbare. Now sprawled, hands pocketed, in a great-chair under the lamp, indolent with accomplished grace (it seemed), one long leg thrown languidly over the other, the slender foot never at rest, he was postured with that perfection of ease and gentility into which my uncle, watchful observer of the manners of the world he walked in, had many a time endeavored to command me, but with the most indifferent success. I listened to my tutor's airy, rambling chit-chat of the day's adventures, captivated by the readiness and wit and genial outlook; the manner of it being new to my experience, the accompaniment of easy laughter a grateful enlightenment in a land where folk went soberly. And then and there--I remember, as 'twere an hour gone, the gale and the lamplight and the laughter of that time--I conceived for him an enduring admiration.

Taken by an anxious thought I whispered in my uncle's ear, having him bend his monstrous head close for secrecy.

"Eh?" says he.

I repeated the question.

"Steerage, lad," he answered. "Tut!" he growled, "none o' that, now! 'Twill be steerage."

It grieved me to know it.

"An' now, Dannie, lad," quoth my uncle, aloud, with a thirsty rubbing of the hands and a grin to match, "fetch the bottle. The bottle, b'y! 'Tis time for growed men t' pledge the v'y'ge. A bit nippy, parson man? The bottle, Dannie!"

"Bottle?" cries my tutor. "Why, really, you know, Skipper Nicholas, I--"

"Is you much give t' the use o' fo'c's'les, parson?" my uncle interrupted.

My tutor was not.

"Then," says my uncle, grimly, "you'll be wantin' a drap."

'Twas true enough, by my uncle's mysterious perversity: a drop would be wanted, indeed.

"Dannie, lad," he commanded, "fetch that there bottle!"

Cather tossed his head, with a brief little laugh, and then, resigned to my uncle's idiosyncrasy--divining the importance of it--gave me a quick nod of permission: the which I was glad to get, aware, as I was, of the hospitable meaning of my uncle's invitation and his sensitiveness in respect to its reception. So I got the ill-seeming black bottle from the locker, the tray and glasses and little brown jug from the pantry, the napkin from Agatha, in a flutter in the kitchen, and having returned to the best room, where the tutor awaited the event in some apparent trepidation, I poured my uncle's dram, and measured an hospitable glass for Cather, but with less generous hand, not knowing his capacity, but shrewdly suspecting its inferiority. The glasses glittered invitingly in the light of the fire and lamp, and the red liquor lay glowing within: an attractive draught, no doubt--to warm, upon that windy night, and to appetize for the belated meat.

"T' you, parson!" says my uncle.

I touched the tutor's elbow.

"Water?" says he, in doubt. "Is it the custom?"

"Leave un be, Dannie."

"Whatever the custom," my tutor began, "of course--"

"'Tis wise," I ventured; minded to this by the man's awkward handling of the glass.

"For shame, Dannie!" cries my uncle. "Leave the parson take his liquor as he will. 'Tis easy t' see he likes it neat."

Cather was amused.

"T' you, parson!" says my uncle.

The tutor laughed as he raised the glass of clear rum. I watched him with misgiving, alive to all the signs of raw procedure--the crook of his elbow, the tilt of the glass, the lift of his head. "To you, sir!" said he: and resolutely downed it. 'Twas impressive then, I recall, to observe his face--the spasm of shock and surprise, the touch of incredulity, of reproachful complaint, as that hard liquor coursed into his belly. 'Twas over in a moment--the wry mouth of it, the shudder--'twas all over in a flash. My tutor commanded his features, as rarely a man may, into stoical disregard of his internal sensations, and stood rigid, but calm, gripping the back of his chair, his teeth set, his lips congealed in an unmeaning grin, his eyes, which ran water against his will, fixed in mild reproach upon my beaming uncle, turning but once, I recall, to my solicitous self. With no unseemly outbreak--with but an inconsequent ahem and a flirt of his handkerchief over his lips--he returned to his composure. He would never again drink rum with my uncle, nor any other liquor, through all the years of our intimate connection; but this mattered not at all, since he had in the beginning pledged the old man's health with honor to himself. I was glad, however, that on the windy night of our meeting he was no more put out; for I wished him safe within my uncle's regard, and knew, as I knew my uncle and the standards of our land, that he had by this gallant conduct achieved the exalted station. 'Twas a test of adaptability (as my uncle held), and of manhood, too, of which, as a tenet, taught me by that primitive philosopher, I am not able, bred as I am, to rid myself to this very day.

"Parson," said my uncle, solemnly, advancing upon the tutor, "ye _done_ it, and ye done it _well_! Shake, shipmate--shake!"

The bell tinkled.

"Is that dinner?" cries my tutor. "Jove! but I _am_ on edge."

We moved into the dining-room, myself pitying the man in a heartfelt way for his stomach's sake. 'Twas unkind in my uncle to sharpen his appetite with red rum.

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My uncle stumped ahead, his wooden leg as blithe as the sound one, and was waiting in his humble quarters, with a gnome-like leer of expectation, when we entered. Neither my watch, set with its shy jewels, nor my sparkling fingers, nor the cut and quality and fit of my London-made clothes, which came close to perfection, nor anything concerning me, had caused my tutor even so much as to lift an eyebrow of surprise; but the appearance of the table, laid in the usual way, gave him an indubitable fit of amazement: for, as was our custom on the neck of land by the Lost Soul, at the one end, where sat the luxurious Dannie Callaway, by no will of his own, was the glitter of silver, the flash and glow of delicate china, a flower or more from our garden, exquisite napery, the bounties of the kindly earth, whatever the cost; but at the other (the napery abruptly ceasing at the centre of the table because of the wear and tear that might chance) was set out, upon coarse ware, even to tin, fare of common description, forecastle fare, fisherman fare, unrelieved by any grace of flower or linen or glitter of glass, by any grace at all, save the grace of a black bottle, which,