CHAPTER II
WITH HER CREW AND CARGO
Long after the time of those who write and those who read this history,the name of Zebedee Tugwell will be flourishing at Springhaven.
To achieve unmerited honor is the special gift of thousands, but todeserve and win befalls some few in every century, and one of these fewwas Zebedee. To be the head-man of any other village, and the captain ofits fishing fleet, might prove no lofty eminence; but to be the leaderof Springhaven was true and arduous greatness. From Selsey Bill toOrfordness, taking in all the Cinque Ports and all the port of London,there was not a place that insisted on, and therefore possessed, allits own rights so firmly as this village did. Not less than seven stoutfishing-smacks--six of them sloops, and the seventh a dandy--formed themarine power of this place, and behaved as one multiplied by seven. Allthe bold fishermen held their line from long-established ancestry, andstuck to the stock of their grandfathers, and their wisdom and freedomfrom prejudice. Strength was condensed into clear law with them--assinew boils down into jelly--and character carried out its force as thestamp of solid impress. What the father had been, the son became, as thegeneration squared itself, and the slates for the children to do theircopies were the tombstones of their granddads. Thus brave Etruria grew,and thus the Rome which was not built in a day became the flower of theworld, and girt in unity of self seven citadels.
There was Roman blood--of the Tenth Legion, perhaps--in the generalvein of Springhaven. There was scarcely a man who pretended to know muchoutside of his own business, and there was not a woman unable towait (when her breath was quite gone) for sound reason. Solidity,self-respect, pure absence of frivolous humor, ennobled the race andenabled them to hold together, so that everybody not born in Springhavenmight lament, but never repair, his loss.
This people had many ancient rules befitting a fine corporation, andamong them were the following: "Never do a job for a stranger; sleep inyour own bed when you can; be at home in good time on a Saturday; neverwork harder than you need; throw your fish away rather than undersellit; answer no question, but ask another; spend all your money among yourfriends; and above all, never let any stranger come a-nigh your properfishing ground, nor land any fish at Springhaven."
These were golden laws, and made a snug and plump community. From theForeland to the Isle of Wight their nets and lines were sacred, and noother village could be found so thriving, orderly, well-conducted, andalmost well-contented. For the men were not of rash enterprise, hotlabor, or fervid ambition; and although they counted things by money,they did not count one another so. They never encouraged a friend towork so hard as to grow too wealthy, and if he did so, they expected himto grow more generous than he liked to be. And as soon as he failed uponthat point, instead of adoring, they growled at him, because every oneof them might have had as full a worsted stocking if his mind had beensmall enough to forget the difference betwixt the land and sea, the tideof labor and the time of leisure.
To these local and tribal distinctions they added the lofty expansion ofsons of the sea. The habit of rising on the surge and falling into thetrough behind it enables a biped, as soon as he lands, to take thingsthat are flat with indifference. His head and legs have got into a stateof firm confidence in one another, and all these declare--with the restof the body performing as chorus gratis--that now they are come to asmaller affair, upon which they intend to enjoy themselves. So that,while strenuous and quick of movement--whenever they could not helpit--and sometimes even brisk of mind (if anybody strove to cheat them),these men generally made no griefs beyond what they were born to.
Zebedee Tugwell was now their chief, and well deserved to be so. Everycommunity of common-sense demands to have somebody over it, and nobodycould have felt ashamed to be under Captain Tugwell. He had built withhis own hands, and bought--for no man's work is his own until he haspaid for as well as made it--the biggest and smartest of all the fleet,that dandy-rigged smack, the Rosalie. He was proud of her, as he wellmight be, and spent most of his time in thinking of her; but even shewas scarcely up to the size of his ideas. "Stiff in the joints," he nowsaid daily--"stiff in the joints is my complaint, and I never would havebelieved it. But for all that, you shall see, my son, if the Lord shouldspare you long enough, whether I don't beat her out and out with thecraft as have been in my mind this ten year."
But what man could be built to beat Zebedee himself, in an age likethis, when yachts and men take the prize by profundity of false keel?Tugwell yearned for no hot speed in his friends, or his house, or hiswife, or his walk, or even his way of thinking. He had seen more harmcome from one hour's hurry than a hundred years of care could cure, andthe longer he lived the more loath he grew to disturb the air aroundhim.
"Admirable Nelson," he used to say--for his education had not been solarge as the parts allotted to receive it; "to my mind he is a braveyoung man, with great understanding of his dooties. But he goeth toofast, without clearing of his way. With a man like me 'longside of 'un,he'd have brought they boats out of Bulong. See how I brings my boatsin, most particular of a Saturday!"
It was Saturday now, when Miss Dolly was waiting to see this greatperformance, of which she considered herself, as the daughter ofan admiral, no mean critic. And sure enough, as punctual as in awell-conducted scheme of war, and with nice forecast of wind and tide,and science of the supper-time, around the westward headland came thebold fleet of Springhaven!
Seven ships of the line--the fishing line--arranged in perfect order,with the Rosalie as the flag-ship leading, and three upon eitherquarter, in the comfort and leisure of the new-born peace, they spreadtheir sails with sunshine. Even the warlike Dolly could not help somethoughts of peacefulness, and a gentle tide of large good-will submergedthe rocks of glory.
"Why should those poor men all be killed?" she asked herself, as a newthing, while she made out, by their faces, hats, fling of knee orelbow, patch upon breeches, or sprawl of walking toward the attentivetelescope, pretty nearly who everybody of them was, and whatever elsethere was about him. "After all, it is very hard," she said, "that theyshould have to lose their lives because the countries fight so."
But these jolly fellows had no idea of losing their lives, or a hair oftheir heads, or anything more than their appetites, after waging hotwar upon victuals. Peace was proclaimed, and peace was reigning; andthe proper British feeling of contempt for snivelly Frenchmen, whichproduces the entente cordiale, had replaced the wholesome dread of them.Not that Springhaven had ever known fear, but still it was glad to leaveoff terrifying the enemy. Lightness of heart and good-will prevailed,and every man's sixpence was going to be a shilling.
In the tranquil afternoon the sun was making it clear to the coastof Albion that he had crossed the line once more, and rediscovered acharming island. After a chilly and foggy season, worse than a bravecold winter, there was joy in the greeting the land held out, and in themore versatile expression of the sea. And not beneath the contempt ofone who strives to get into everything, were the creases and patches ofthe sails of smacks, and the pattern of the resin-wood they called theirmasts, and even the little striped things (like frogs with hats on, inthe distance) which had grown to believe themselves the only object thesun was made to shine upon.
But he shone upon the wide sea far behind, and the broad stretch ofland before them, and among their slowly gliding canvas scattered softtouches of wandering light. Especially on the spritsail of the Rosalie,whereunder was sitting, with the tiller in his hand and a very long pipein his mouth, Captain Zebedee Tugwell. His mighty legs were spread atease, his shoulders solid against a cask, his breast (like an elephant'sback in width, and bearing a bright blue crown tattooed) shone out ofthe scarlet woolsey, whose plaits were filled with the golden shower ofa curly beard, untouched with gray. And his face was quite as worthy asthe substance leading up to it, being large and strengthful and slow tomove, though quick to make others do so. The forehead was heavy, and thenose thickset, the lower jaw backed up the resolution of the
other, andthe wide apart eyes, of a bright steel blue, were as steady as a braceof pole-stars.
"What a wonderful man!" fair Dolly thought, as the great figure, lookingeven grander in the glass, came rising upon a long slow wave--"what awonderful man that Tugwell is! So firmly resolved to have his own way,so thoroughly dauntless, and such a grand beard! Ten times more like anadmiral than old Flapfin or my father is, if he only knew how to holdhis pipe. There is something about him so dignified, so calm, and somajestic; but, for all that, I like the young man better. I have a greatmind to take half a peep at him; somebody might ask whether he was thereor not."
Being a young and bashful maid, as well as by birth a lady, she hadfelt that it might be a very nice thing to contemplate sailors in thedistance, abstract sailors, old men who pulled ropes, or lounged on thedeck, if there was one. But to steal an unsuspected view at a young manvery well known to her, and acknowledged (not only by his motherand himself, but also by every girl in the parish) as the Adonis ofSpringhaven--this was a very different thing, and difficult to justifyeven to one's self. The proper plan, therefore, was to do it, instead ofwaiting to consider it.
"How very hard upon him it does seem," she whispered to herself, after agood gaze at him, "that he must not even dream of having any hope ofme, because he has not happened to be born a gentleman! But he looks athousand times more like one than nine out of ten of the great gentlemenI know--or at any rate he would if his mother didn't make his clothes."
For Zebedee Tugwell had a son called "Dan," as like him as a tender peacan be like a tough one; promising also to be tough, in course of time,by chafing of the world and weather. But at present Dan Tugwell was astender to the core as a marrowfat dallying till its young duck should beready; because Dan was podding into his first love. To the sympathetictelescope his heart was low, and his mind gone beyond astronomicalrange, and his hands (instead of briskly pairing soles) hung asunder,and sprawled like a star-fish.
"Indeed he does look sad," said Miss Dolly, "he is thinking of me, ashe always does; but I don't see how anybody can blame me. But here comesdaddy, with dear old Flapfin! I am not a bit afraid of either of them;but perhaps I had better run away."
Springhaven: A Tale of the Great War Page 2
