Roger Kyffin's Ward. Kingston William Henry Giles
Lynderton and its Neighbourhood
Harry Tryon in his new home had the sea constantly before his eyes. Sometimes he saw it blue and laughing, and dotted over with the white canvas of numerous vessels glistening in the sunshine. At other times the stout ships were tossed by tempests, or doing battle with the foaming waves. Often the boy longed for the life of a sailor, to go forth over that broad unknown ocean in search of adventure; but the old lady would not hear of it. It was the only wish in which she thwarted him: she usually spoiled him, and gave him everything he asked for, especially if he cried loud enough for it. But he was now getting too old to cry for what he wanted, and he must take some other means to obtain his wishes. Poor Harry! his nursery life had been a checkered one; sometimes shut up by himself in a dark room, sometimes almost starved and frightened to death; at others pampered, stuffed with rich food, exhibited in the drawing-room as a prodigy, his vanity excited, and allowed to do exactly as he listed. Perhaps one style of treatment checked the bad effects of the other.
Lynderton stood on the bank of a small river. Harry had no difficulty in obtaining a boat, in which he learned to row. Lady Tryon did not know how he was employed, or she would probably have sent for him, and kept him driving about in her musk-smelling carriage, which Harry hated. As he grew older he managed to get trips in fishing vessels, on board small traders which ran between the neighbouring ports, and sometimes he got a trip on board a revenue cruiser – the old “Rose,” well known on the coast. There were not many yachts in those days; but two or three of the people residing at Lynderton had small vessels, and Harry was always a welcome guest on board them. His love for the sea was thus partially gratified and fostered, and he became a first-rate hand in a boat or yacht. Still he yearned for something else.
One day he was standing on the quay at the foot of the town, when a stout sailor lad stopped near him, and putting out his hand exclaimed: “Well, Master Harry! I did not know you at first: you are grown so. You’re looking out for a sail down the river, I’ll warrant?”
“You are right, Jacob,” answered Harry, shaking the proffered hand. “I have not had a sniff of salt water for the last week. But where have you been all this time?”
“I have been to sea, Master Harry – to foreign lands – and if you are so minded I will help you to take a trip there, too.”
“You have not been away long enough to go to any foreign lands that I know of, except perhaps the coast of France or to Holland,” observed Harry.
“That’s just where I have been, Master Harry, and if you like to come down along the quay I will show you the craft I went in. She’s not one a seaman need be ashamed of, let me tell you.”
Harry accompanied his friend. Jacob Tuttle had been one of Harry’s first companions in a boat, and he indeed taught him to row. As he was six or eight years older than Harry, the latter looked at him with great respect, and considered him an accomplished seaman. He was, indeed, a good specimen of the British sailor of those days, brave, open-hearted, and generous, but with the smallest possible amount of judgment or discretion. Harry accompanied him along the bank of the river for some distance.
“There! what do you think of her?” asked Jacob, pointing to a wonderfully long, narrow lugger which lay alongside the wooden quay or jetty. “She measures 120 feet from the tip of her bowsprit to the end of her outrigger, and she sails like the wind. We pull forty oars, and there is no revenue cutter can come near us, blow high or blow low.” The vessel at which Harry and his companion were looking was indeed a beautiful craft. She had fore and aft cuddies for sleeping berths, and was open amid-ships “for the stowage of 2,000 kegs of spirits,” Jacob whispered in Harry’s ear. “Would you not like to take a trip in her, Master Harry?”
Harry confessed that he should like it very much.
Lady Tryon was on the point of starting for London. Probably the “Saucy Sally” would not sail for two or three days. He might make the trip and be back again without anybody knowing anything about it. Tuttle would introduce Harry to the skipper. He was a first-rate fellow, whether an Englishman or a foreigner he could not tell, but his equal was not easily to be found. It was a pleasure to be with him in a gale of wind, and to hear him issue his orders. Captain Falwasser was his name. The “Saucy Sally” carried fifty hands, officers and crew, all told, and had guns too, but they were kept stowed away below, unless wanted.
“But, Harry, come on board.”
Harry could not resist the temptation. He reflected little about the rights of the thing, and even if he had, to say the truth, Captain Falwasser’s occupation was at that time not much condemned by public opinion. He soon found himself visiting every part of the “Saucy Sally,” and being introduced to her daring skipper. Captain Falwasser was a strongly-built man, but in other respects refined and gentlemanly in appearance. The expression of his lips showed wonderful determination, and those who looked at his eye felt that they were in the presence of a man accustomed to command his fellows. His cheek was pale and sunken, and there was on his features a settled expression of melancholy. Harry was delighted with all he saw, and longed more than ever to take a trip on board the lugger. Captain Falwasser, however, did not seem inclined to indulge him in his wish. At last he had to go on shore, and return home. A few days after this he saw the “Saucy Sally” with her jovial crew, loudly cheering, while she dropped down the river, the Custom House officers looking on.
“We’ll catch them one of these days, in spite of all their cunning,” observed one. “They think we don’t know when they are coming back. We will show them their mistake.”
Harry kept thinking of the “Saucy Sally” and her bold skipper, and he still entertained the hopes of some day making a trip in her. Two or three weeks passed away, and once more she lay in Lynderton river, with her empty hold looking as innocent as if she had been merely out for a few hours’ pleasure trip. There were reports of a large cargo having been run somewhere on the Dorsetshire coast, not far from Yarmouth, but of course the crew of the “Saucy Sally” knew nothing of the matter. A body of yeomanry had met a large party of waggons, surrounded by two or three hundred men, each with pistols in their holsters, and carbines in their hands, proceeding northward; but the soldiers considered discretion, in this case, the better part of valour, being very sure, had they attempted to interfere with them, they would be cut down to a man. It was shrewdly suspected that this cavalcade was conveying to a place of safety the cargo landed from the “Saucy Sally.” Harry very naturally went down to have a look at the lugger. Jacob Tuttle told him how sorry he had felt that he could not come the last trip.
“If you have a mind for it still, come on board the night before, and I will stow you away. When we are fairly at sea, you can come out, and if the skipper is angry I will stand the blame.”
Harry managed to get away from Aylestone Hall, his grandmother being still absent, and was, unseen by any one, stowed on board the “Saucy Sally.” It is possible that more than once, while shut up in the close cuddy, he repented of his proposed exploit. However, he was in for it, as the crew, most of them half-seas over, kept coming on board. The next morning, if not as sober as judges, they were yet pretty well able to handle the lugger, and with their usual exulting shouts they manned their oars and pulled down the river. They were soon at sea, and getting a slant of wind, the smuggler’s enormous lug-sails were hoisted, and away she stood towards the French coast. Jacob, according to promise, released Harry. The skipper’s sharp eye soon singled him out, though he kept forward among the crew. He was summoned aft, and fully expected a severe scolding.
“What made you come with us, my boy?” asked Captain Falwasser, in a kind tone. “You are too young to run the dangers we have to go through. You will have enough of them by-and-bye. And so Jacob Tuttle brought you, did he? I will settle that business with him. You must be under my charge till I land you again at Lynderton.”
Jacob Tuttle not only got a severe scolding, but the captain threatened to dismiss him as soon as they got back to England. Meantime the appearance of the lugger was being changed. The crew, as they drew near the French coast, dressed as Frenchmen, and pieces of painted canvas were hung over the sides of the vessel, so that she no longer looked like the trim, dashing craft she really was. The “Saucy Sally” dropped her anchor close in with the coast, just as the shades of evening