Wild Life in the Land of the Giants: A Tale of Two Brothers

by Burt L. Standish

thunderstruck at being advised to go aft if we didn't want our toestramped. Why, the scramble in setting sail, the hurrying here andscurrying there, the noise and shouting, would have left a Rugbyfootball match far in the rear.

  When sail was got up at last, and the water had entirely lost itspea-soup colour, the _Salamander_ went bobbing and curtseying over thewee wavelets, swaying about like a pretty Spanish girl dancing afandango, and with a motion altogether so pleasant, that I said to JillI did not think there was any life in the world so pleasant as a life onthe ocean wave.

  Just as I was saying this I received a dig from a thumb in the ribs,accompanied by that clicking sound a Jehu makes with his mouth when hewants his horse to "gee up." I think it is spelt thus: "tsck!" If not,I do not know how to spell it.

  "Tsck! youngsters, how d'y'e like it? Eh! Tsck! Sorry to leave theshorie-worry. Eh? Tsck."

  He was a youth of about fifteen, in blue pilot jacket with brassbuttons, and a cap on the after-part of his head. He had a short neckand handsome face, but square chin, which he stuck very much up in theair when he spoke. I did not like him, then.

  I drew myself up to my full height--four feet six, I think--and askedhim if he was aware he was taking an unwarrantable amount of familiaritywith my ribs.

  I was using my very best English on him--auntie's English.

  "What's your name, chummy?"

  "Captain Coates may be able to inform you."

  "Ha! ha! going to ride the high horse. Eh?"

  "What's your name, little un? Tsck!" This to Jill.

  Jill bridled up now.

  "When I'm as big as you, I'll thrash you," said my brother.

  "But you'll never be, 'cause I'll keep growing. See?"

  I looked at him disdainfully up and down.

  "You don't give promise at present," I said, "of ever attaining heroicdimensions."

  "Eh?" he said, putting a finger behind his left ear, as deaf people do."I didn't catch on. What ship did you say?"

  "Because," I added, "you're squat, and you're not wholesome, norhandsome."

  This was hardly handsome of me.

  He shook his head now as if in great grief.

  "Oh! you ungrateful little griffin," he gasped out. "Here is poorinnocent me come to chummy with you, and there is you a-rebuffing of melike everything. I declare it's enough to make the binnacle pipe itseye."

  Then he brightened up all at once.

  "I say," he said, "was that old duchess your aunt? Uncommon fine oldgirl. Give you any yellow boys, eh?"

  I turned on my heel and walked away, arm-in-arm with Jill.

  At the same moment Mrs Coates and her black maid came up, and I wassurprised to observe the immediate change in this young officer'sdemeanour. He lifted his hat to the lady, and advanced almost shyly,certainly deferentially.

  "Now, boys," said Mrs Coates, smiling, "let me make you acquainted withyour brother officer, Mr Jeffries. Mr Jeffries--Master Reginald--and-all-the-rest-of-it Jones; Master Rupert, etc, Jones--twin brothers,as you may see."

  Mr Jeffries cordially shook hands with us.

  "I really was trying to scrape acquaintance with them when you came ondeck, Mrs Coates."

  "How did you proceed?" asked the lady.

  "Well, I--I fear I dug them in the ribs rather, Mrs Coates, but I nowmost humbly apologise."

  "And I have to apologise," I returned, "for calling you squat and ugly."I lifted my hat.

  "And I," said Jill, lifting his hat, "have to apologise for saying Iwould thrash you--I won't."

  "No," said Mr Jeffries, "I dare say you won't yet awhile. Well, let'sall be pleasant. We're all in the same boat. But boys, I'm plainPeter. Don't Mr me."

  "And I'm Jack."

  "And I'm Jill."

  "Oh," laughed Mrs Coates, "then I must call my Jack--John."

  I could not help thinking this was a very strange introduction, but theice was broken, and that was everything.

  We had music after dinner, in our pretty little saloon, Mrs Coates andPeter playing duets together, he with the clarionet--on which charminginstrument every boy should take lessons before going to sea--and she atthe piano.

  We youngsters went on deck before turning in. The stars were all out,and all sail was crowded; but though well into the Channel, we made butlittle way, the sea all round being as calm as an English lake.

  We sat down together near the companion.

  "You don't think me a very nasty fellow now, do you?" said Peter.

  "No, I begin to like you rather."

  "Am I very ugly?"

  "No, not ugly, but you looked conceited."

  "Well, so I perhaps am. Now, I'm lots older than you, and we've knowneach other all the evening, so forgive me for trying plainly to put youup to ropes. You're green, and you must get rid of your lime-juice.Now, _never_ lose your temper."

  "Oh! Jill," I cried, laughing, "Peter is right, and we've broken ourgood resolve."

  "Always take chaff in the spirit it is meant."

  "So we had intended," I sighed, "hadn't we, Jill?"

  "Assuredly."

  "Well, that's all to-night. We're friends?"

  "We are."

  "Then, good-night. I have got to keep the first morning watch."

  "Good-night, Peter."

  "Jill," I said, "we've made fools of ourselves already. Let us go downbelow, and turn in."

  So we did, and cosy little cribs we had, and a little cabin all toourselves--this is most exceptional, mind, but we were very young.

  Just after we got up from our knees,--

  "Give us the log-books," I said, "Jill."

  "I say, Jack," said Jill, sleepily, "maybe it would be as well to writeevery day's doings complete every morning."

  "I dare say that would be best," I said, "and I must say I'm feelingvery tired."

  Next day it was blowing a bit, and we had something else to occupy ourminds than writing logs. Indeed I never felt so thoroughly bad andunambitious in my life. I did try to eat some breakfast, but the fishgot it after. Jill was the same, _so_ ill, and the ship would keepcapering about in a way that made me wish I'd been a soldier instead ofa sailor.

  "How're you getting on?" Peter often asked kindly. "Oh, you are notnearly so bad as I was at first, and on the day the mate rope-ended meoff to my watch."

  "Isn't it blowing hard?" I ventured to ask.

  "Blowing? dear life no, it's a glorious breeze."

  The glorious breeze--how I hated such glory--kept at it for many days.The sea got rougher and the waves higher, and we got worse. I do notthink anything would have induced me to go near a ship again, if a goodangel had only put me down then at the door of Trafalgar Cottage.

  But every one was kind to us.

  Then one day the mate--he was rather a tartar--put us both in separatewatches, and after this I think our sufferings began in earnest.

  Not a word had yet been written in the log, so that was our third goodintention thrown to the winds.

  It really seemed to me that the mate was cruel; he did not kick usabout, but he sent us flying, on very short notice too. And we darednot say a word. Then we had all kinds of little menial offices toperform, even for the captain's cat and for two beautiful dogs thatbelonged to the mate. To be sure, there was a boy or two forward, butthe mate told us--Jill and me--that he wanted to make men of us. Heexplained that no officer could ever know when a thing was well doneunless he knew how to do it himself.

  Going aloft was at first fearful work. I'll never forget, though, lyingout on a yard making a sham of reefing, and holding on like a fly on aroof, praying, and expecting every moment to be hurled into the sea. Itcame easier at last, and before we reached Saint Helena, where we layin, I could do a deal both below and aloft, and had hands and feet asgood as the captain's cat.

  Now if ever the lines of any two boys were cast in pleasant places ongoing first to sea, they were Jill's and mine, and yet we were nothappy. What would it have been had we been subj
ected to the thousandand one little tyrannies of ship life most apprentices have to endure?I'm not going to describe them, because I am telling a story, not givinga lecture; nor do I wish to say a word to prevent bold, hardy lads fromadopting the sea as a profession; but let no one go to be a sailor luredby the romance and glamour thrown over it in too many sea novels.

  Peter and we got on shore together at Saint Helena. This was a treat,because we were now quite friendly, and I had not forgotten the goodadvice he gave us the first evening we met.

  Leila, Mrs Coates' maid, also had a passage on shore in the same boat,and Peter, much to the amusement of the men--with whom, by the way, hewas a great favourite--pretended to make love to her all the way. Hetold her, to begin with, that her name was sweetly poetic, and pretty.So far he was right. Then he said her teeth were like pearls. Leilagrinned, simpered, and showed her teeth. And really Peter was not farwrong. Having adhered to the truth so far, I believe Leila was in aposition to believe anything. So Peter praised her eyes next. He saidthey reminded him of koh-i-noors floating in a bucket of tar, and hereferred to the coxswain to say whether he was not right. The coxswainconfessed that diamonds were never so numerous where he had been, as tofloat them on tar, but that Leila was pretty enough to make a fellowpitch a ball of spun-yard at the captain's head if she asked him to.

  For this pretty compliment the coxswain received a dig in the ribs fromLeila that well-nigh sent him overboard among the sharks and turtles,and certainly took his breath away.

  "Oh!" cried the coxswain. "If that's your way of showing youraffection, my beauty, a little of it goes a long way."

  "What for you tease a poor girl, then?"

  "Your hair, my Leila--" began Peter again.

  "Cut it short, Mr Jeffries," cried the coxswain, laughing; "why, sir,you can't praise that!"

  "Cut it short!" said Peter; "why it couldn't be shorter. But look atthose crisp wee ringlets, how they curl round one's affections, how theyentwine themselves with every poetic feeling--"

  "Way enough--oars," shouted the coxswain.

  There was indeed way enough. The good fellow had not been keeping hisweather eye lifting, and now the boat took the beach with such forcethat nearly all hands caught crabs, the bewitching Leila among the rest.

  Peter made haste to help her up, and assisted her on shore. He evencarried his politeness so far as to offer her his arm along the beach.

  "You go 'long now," she replied. "You nothing but one piccaninny. Inot can gib dis heart ob mine to a child so small as you."

  Jill and I laughed, and Peter laughed good-naturedly, and fell back.

  "Bother it all, boys, she's got the best of me after all."

  Here, in James's Town, as in other places, my brother and I attracteduniversal attention, among blacks and whites, by our wonderfulresemblance to each other. And they did not hesitate to show it. Forinstance, I was some distance behind Jill and Peter, when I met a bluffold sailor.

  "Hullo! matie," he shouted, "blessed if I ain't three sheets in thewind. I could have sworn I met you a minute ago, and there you areagain. I'll go back and have a sleep. Can't go on board like this."

  But when he saw the two of us together, he concluded to go on board,after treating himself to another glass of beer, and drinking ourhealths. So we had to "shout" as Peter called it.

  Before we entered the little inn, which was kept by a highly respectableman of colour, Peter pushed me unceremoniously into a little stableplace, and told me to wait till come for.

  I obeyed, feeling sure Peter was up to some lark. About five minutesafter, the door was opened, not by Peter, but by a black man in a whitejacket.

  He sprang back in amazement when he saw me.

  "You must be de debbil, sah," he said.

  "Thank you," I replied, "but _you're_ more of his colour."

  The explanation is this: after calling for beer and sherbet, Peter, whoknew the landlord, having been here before, said--

  "Now, Mr Brown, you see this young gentleman," alluding to Jill.

  "Yes, sah," said Mr Brown, "pertiklerly handsom boy, sah."

  "True," said Peter, "but his chief peculiarity is his ubiquitousness."

  "Yes, sah, sure 'nuff, sah; come to look again, he is ratherobliquitous."

  "He can go through a key-hole."

  The man drew back.

  "Now, come and I'll show you." And upstairs the three went; and aftermaking sure the window was properly fastened, Jill was duly locked intothe room, and the landlord put the key in his pocket. In a minute afterthey returned. The room was empty to all appearance--Jill, in fact, wasbehind a chair in a corner. The landlord peeped under the bed, thenstared in blank amazement.

  "Now come on," cried Peter, "we'll find him out of doors. Go and lookin your little stable."

  And there, of course, Mr Brown found me. Meanwhile Jill had gotdownstairs, and had hidden himself in the parlour, so that Peter had anopportunity of ringing the changes on this trick in several ways.

  Finally we both appeared at once.

  "I'm going to pay for the sherbet," said I and Jill both in a breath,and both extending our hands at once.

  "No, sah," said Mr Brown, "I not touch it. P'r'aps sah, the money isobliquitous too--ha! ha!"

  We had a deal of fun that day one way or another, and very much enjoyedour visit to Napoleon's tomb. I believe I should have waxed quiteromantic about that, or about some of the splendid views we saw on everyside of us, but who could be romantic with Peter alongside making uslaugh every moment?

  After returning, we went to climb ladder hill. Every one does so,therefore we must. The ladder leads up the face of a cliff about fourhundred feet high.

  "I think," said Peter, "I see my way to a final joke before going off.Jill, old man, you hide down here till I shout from the cliff top, thencome slowly up the ladder, rubbing yourself as if you had tumbled."

  Then up we went. We were in luck. An old gentleman at the top waswatching our ascent from under his white umbrella. We said "goodafternoon," and passed along some little way, and at a sign from Peter Igot into hiding.

  Peter ran back. "Oh!" he cried, "I fear my young friend has fallen overthe cliff."

  "Dear me, dear me," said the old gentleman, looking bewilderedly round,"_so_ he must have. How very, very terrible."

  "But it won't hurt him, will it?"

  "Hurt him? why he'll be cat's meat by this time."

  "Oh, you don't know my friend," said Peter. "He's a perfect littlegutta-percha ball, he is."

  Then he shouted, "Jill--Jill, are you hurt?"

  And when Jill presently came puffing and blowing up the ladder, andmaking pretence to dust his jacket, that old gentleman's face was such apicture of mingled amazement and terror that I felt sorry for him; so Isuddenly appeared on the scene, and, according to Peter, thus spoiledthe sport.

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  Jill and I had built all sorts of castles in the air anent our arrivalat Cape Town, and the meeting with our darling mother and brave papa.We were not in the least little bit afraid of a scolding from either.

  The _Salamander_ was to lie here for a whole week, so we would becertain to enjoy ourselves if--ah! there always is an _if_. I do notbelieve there ever was a castle in the air yet that had not a big uglyogre living in some corner of it. Supposing father were killed, orsomething happened to mamma.

  But here was the _Cape_ at last, and the bay, and the town, and thegrand old hills above. It was early in the morning when we droppedanchor, but there was plenty of bustle and stir on the waternevertheless. The houses looked very white in the sun's glare, whichwas so bright on the water that we could scarcely look on it. The hillswere purple, grey, and green with patches of bright crimson here andthere, for it was early summer in this latitude. Indeed, everywherearound us was ablaze with sunlight and beauty. But all this fell flaton Jill and me, and we did not feel any near approach to happiness til
lthe boat was speeding swiftly towards the landing with us. Forsomewhere in shore yonder lived, we hoped, all we held truly dear.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  LIFE AT SEA--POOR FATHER'S DEATH--MATTIE AND I.

  Where did Major Jones of the --th live?

  Was the regiment in town?

  These were only two out of a dozen questions we asked about two dozenpeople on the street. And greatly to our astonishment, no one couldgive us a definite answer. We thought all the world knew our papa.

  At last we met a smart sergeant of marines, who told us afterwards hewas just up from Symon's Town on a few days' outing. Our father'sregiment had gone to the front, away up country, but he would go with usto the barracks. He did so, and got an address--that of the house wherethe major used to live; and he walked with us that distance, then badeus good day.

  The door was opened by a little yellow lady wearing a crimson silkbandana by way of cap. We had hardly spoken ere she guessed we were the"young massa boys that Ma'am Jones speak so much about."

  "And mother, is she with father?"

  "She was wid Capitan Jones, but she come home to-day, sick."

  "She is here, then?"

  "No, to-day she _come_ home."

  "Is she very ill?"

  "No, bless de lubly lad, no, no ill at all, only sick."

  Here was confusion and grief all mingled up together.

  However, we waited. It was a beautiful room we were in, all jalousiedand curtained, all thoroughly tropical in appearance, while everynick-nack around us was mother's--her work-box, writing-desk, books,everything.

  A light carriage stopped ere long, and at a glance we could see it wasmother's. We could not wait any longer, but ran right away down thegarden to meet her.

  Then the scene--which must be imagined.

  Mamma was looking as well and beautiful as ever. She was on sick-leave;that was what the little yellow Malay lady wanted to convey.

  What a happy, happy week that was. And every hour of it we spent withmother. The only drawback to our pleasure was that we could not seepoor father. But when we came back--ah! then.

  We had such good news at the end of the week, too--that is good news forJill and me, not for the owners' profit, however, including AuntieSerapheema. It was simply that, owing to delay in lading and unlading,the _Salamander_ would not be ready for sea for another week. This wasa respite we did not fail to take advantage of, and so we spent it ingoing everywhere and seeing everything, in company with mother, ofcourse, and very often Peter.

  I felt that I liked Peter now better than ever, because he was sodeferential and polite to mamma. No Frenchman had more urbanity abouthim than Peter, when he concluded to show it.

  How Jill and I wished that week had been a year. The Cape has alwaysseemed to me a very delightful dreamy sort of a place. The scenery isso grand, there is health in every breeze, and the people do not hurryalong in life as they do in the States of America, where one issurrounded by such a stream of fast-flowing life that he thinks he isbehind the age if he does not sail with it. But at the Cape one cantake time to vegetate and enjoy his existence.

  Up anchor and away again. A few tears at parting, and hopes of a speedyreunion. It had felt funny, as Jill expressed it, to find mamma amidstsuch tropical surroundings, but there was a good time coming, and wemight soon see her back in dear old Trafalgar Cottage.

  Of course Peter and we had fun at the Cape, and Peter played a good manymore of his monkey tricks; but one particular monkey trick was played onme by a smart-looking Portuguese fellow, whom I will not forget, but amnever likely to meet, so I make a virtue of necessity by forgiving him.

  It was on the forenoon of our sailing. Jill was already on board, and Imyself was about to put off in the very last boat, when the man came upand politely touched his cap.

  "I sent them all off, sir," he said, "and this is the little bill."

  I glanced at it. One pound 5 shillings 6 pence for various littlenick-nacks, chiefly preserved fruits and other eatables.

  "Ha!" I said to myself, "this is strange." Then aloud: "I neverordered these things, my man."

  "You forget, sir. Only last night, sir, and you gave me sixpence to besure to take them off in time. Will you come with me to the store?"

  "No, no," I said; "it was my brother, doubtless. Here you are, onepound six shillings. Keep the sixpence because I suspected you."

  I did not see my brother to speak to till dinnertime.

  "Fork over, old man," I said, throwing him the bill. "I paid that foryou, and don't you forget your liabilities when next you leave a foreignport."

  Jill glanced at the bit of paper, and his look of blank astonishmenttold me at once I had been very neatly victimised. So much for being atwin.

  Peter exploded in a hearty fit of laughter, which went rippling roundthe table; and though I looked a little blank--Jill said "blue"--for atime, I presently joined in the mirth.

  "You see, my boy," said Captain Coates, "that it is quite an expensivething to keep a double."

  "Long may he keep his double," said Mrs Coates.

  I grew serious all at once. I glanced just once at poor Jill's innocentface, while a strange feeling of gloom rushed over my heart.

  Keep my double! Why surely, I thought, it could never be otherwise. Imust always have Jill--always, always. I could no more live withoutthat brother of mine than I could exist without the air I breathe.

  Perhaps dear Mrs Coates noticed the air of concern her words hadinadvertently called up, for she made haste to change the subject. I donot know whether she did so very artistically or not, but veryeffectually.

  "Have ever you seen oysters growing on trees, Mr Jeffries?" she asked.

  How closely the sublime is ever associated with the ridiculous in thisworld! Mirth itself or folly is never really very far away from grief.The one merely turns its back to the other.

  Oysters growing on a tree indeed! Yet I could not repress a smile, andI dare say Mrs Coates noticed she was victorious.

  "Oysters growing on trees? Yes, years and years ago." I often noticedthat peculiarity about Peter: he used to speak as if he were indeed avery old man. And, mind you, one's peculiarities should always berespected, even if they convey to your mind the idea that the owner isaffected with pride. Because every one has peculiarities, and they areoften faults; but all have faults.

  I think in the present instance Peter would have been pleased if Jill orI had contradicted him, but we did not. Jill merely said:

  "Wouldn't I like to have trees like these growing in my garden."

  Then Captain Coates explained that Peter referred to the mangrove trees,with huge bare root-tops, that grew by the seashore in Africa, andgraciously permitted the succulent bivalves to cling to them.

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  I have heard it said, reader, that there was not much romance about themerchant service; that, like the glory of war, it all clung to the RoyalNavy. This is not quite true, and were I but to describe one half theadventures--none _very_ wild, perhaps--and half the fun we had for thenext four years of our life at sea, giving an account at the same timeof the storms and dangers we encountered, and a pen-and-ink picturegraphically told of the lovely lands and seas we made the acquaintanceof, it would be one of the most readable books ever printed. But I havethat to tell of poor Jill and myself which I believe will be far moreabsorbing than the every-day events in the life of a sailor.

  Our voyage, then, to Bombay was all that could be desired. Now thatJill and I really felt ourselves to be seafarers in the strict sense ofthe word, we settled down to our life, and began to enjoy it.

  This is a feeling that comes sooner or later to all who make going tosea their profession, and it is born of the fact that your ship becomesyour home; so that on shore you always feel out for the day or the week,as the case may be, but as soon as your foot is on deck you feel backand settled down. It is this fe
eling I doubt not which makes every truesailor love his ship.

  From Bombay we went to China, and thence to Sydney, and it was there thegreat grief found us, a grief which made Jill and I feel we had left ourboyhood behind us and grown suddenly old.

  We had lost our father!

  He had died, as heroes die, fighting at the head of his regiment, swordand revolver in hand, against fearful odds.

  I shall not dwell on this sorrow; it had better be imagined. It wasMrs Coates who broke the news to us, after taking us below to ourcabin. She let us weep as young orphan brothers would, in each other'sarms, unrestrained for a long time, before she broke gently in with theremark:

  "Dear boys, God is good to you; you still have your mother."

  Oh yes, we still had our mother, and when the first wild transports ofour grief were past, our thoughts sorrowfully reverted to her, and herlonely life in auntie's cottage by the sea.

  I think the first comfort we really had was in our manly resolves to doeverything that was right, and to be everything that was brave and good,for the sake of this widowed mother of ours, and out of respect to thememory of our hero father.

  But as I have said, the grief made us old, and mind you, age goes notwith years; the poor miserable children that beg in the streets ofLondon, half naked and in rags, whose parents are more unnatural thanthe wildest beasts, they, I say, are as old in spirit and heart, andoften in wisdom, as happy young men and women of over twenty-one.

  It was strange, too, that, children though we were, we could not helpfeeling that henceforward we would be our mother's protectors.

  Ah, I have to confess, though, that, so hard was the blow to bear, sointense was the grief we experienced for father's death, we saw nosilver lining to the cloud for many a day, and, at night, neither Jillnor I could get our hearts quite round those beautiful words in God'sown prayer, "Thy will be done."

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  And so months and years flew by, and Jill and I grew big and strong, andat the age of sixteen