CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
WHAT BECAME OF THE ROPE.
I nearly fell headlong down as I reached the stairs, for my foot wentthrough a hole in the boards, but I recovered myself and began to rundown as fast as I dared, on account of the rickety state of the steps,while Ike came clumping down after me, and we could hear the bigruffian's voice saying something loudly as we hurried from flight toflight.
There were knots of women on the different landings and at the bottom ofthe stairs, and they were all talking excitedly; but only to cease andlook curiously at us as we went by.
There was quite a crowd, too, of men, women, and children in the courtbelow as we left the doorway; but Ike's bold manner and the decided wayin which he strode out with me, looking sharply from one to the other,put a stop to all opposition, even if it had been intended.
There were plenty of scowling, menacing looks, and there was a littlehooting from the men, but they gave way, and in another minute we wereout of the court and in the dirty street, with a troop of childrenfollowing us and the people on either side looking on.
"But, Ike," I said in a despairing tone, "we haven't got the rope afterall."
"No," he said; "but I've got you out o' that place safe, and I haven'tgot much hurt myself, and that's saying a deal. Talk about savages andwild beasts abroad! why, they're nothing."
"I didn't see any policemen, Ike," I said, as I thought of their power.
"More didn't I," he replied with a grim smile. "They don't care muchabout going down these sort o' places; no more don't I. We're well outof that job, my lad. You didn't ought to have gone."
"But that boy was running off with the best cart rope, Ike," I saiddespondently, "and I was trying to get it back, and now it's gone. Whatwill Mr Brownsmith say?"
"Old Brownsmith won't say never a word," said Ike, as we trudged onalong a more respectable street.
"Oh, but he will," I cried. "He is so particular about the ropes."
"So he be, my lad. Here, let's brush you down; you're a bit dirty."
"But he will," I said, as I submitted to the operation.
"Not he," said Ike. "Them police is in the right of it. I'm all of ashiver, now that bit of a burst's over;" and he wiped his brow.
"You are, Ike?" I said wonderingly.
"To be sure I am, my lad. I was all right there, and ready to fight;but now it's over and we're well out of it, I feel just as I did whenthe cart tipped up and all the baskets come down atop of you."
"I am glad you feel like that," I said.
"Why?" he cried sharply.
"Because it makes me feel that I was not such a terrible coward afterall."
"But you were," he said, giving me a curious look. "Oh, yes: about asbig a coward as ever I see."
I did not understand why I was so very great a coward, but he did notexplain, and I trudged on by him.
"I say, what would you have done if I hadn't come?"
"I don't know," I said. "I suppose they would have let me go at last.They got all my money."
"They did?"
"Yes," I said dolefully; "and then there's the rope. What will MrBrownsmith say?"
"Nothin' at all," said Ike.
"But he will," I cried again.
"No he won't, because we'll buy a new one 'fore we goes back."
"I thought of that," I said, "but I've no money now."
"Oh, all right! I have," he said. "We may think ourselves well out ofa bad mess, my lad; and I don't know as we oughtn't to go to the police,but we haven't no time for that. There'll be another load o' strawb'ysready by the time we get back, and I shall have to come up againto-night. Strawb'ys sold well to-day. No: we've no time for thepolice."
"They deserve to be taken up," I said.
"Ay, they do, my boy; but folks don't get all they deserve."
"Or I should be punished for letting that boy steal the rope."
"Hang the rope!" he said crustily. "I mean, hang the boy or his father,and that's what some of 'em'll come to," he cried grimly, "if they don'tmind. They're a bad lot down that court. Lor' a mussy me! I'd soonerlive in one of our sheds on some straw, with a sack for a pillow, thanbe shut up along o' these folk in them courts."
"But they wouldn't have hurt me, Ike?" I said.
"I dunno, my lad. P'r'aps they would, p'r'aps they wouldn't. Theymight have kept you and made a bad un of yer. Frightened you into itlike."
I shook my head.
"Ah! you don't know, my lad. How much did they get?"
"Two shillings and ninepence halfpenny," I said dolefully.
"And a nearly new rope. Ah, it's a bad morning's work for your firstjourney."
"It is, Ike," I said; "but I didn't know any better. How did you knowwhere I was?"
"How did I know? Why, Shock saw you and followed you, and come back andfetched me, when I was staring at the cart and wondering what had goneof you two."
"Where is he now?" I asked.
"What, Shock? Oh, I don't know. He's a queer chap. P'r'aps they'vegot him instead of you."
I stopped short and looked at him, but saw directly that he was onlyjoking, and went on again:
"You don't think that," I said quickly; "for if you did you would nothave come away. Do you think he has gone back to the cart?"
"Oh, there's no knowing," he replied. "P'r'aps when we get back therewon't be any cart; some one will have run away with it. They're rum unshere in London."
"Why, you haven't left the cart alone, Ike," I cried.
"That's a good one, that is," he exclaimed. "You haven't left the cartalone! Why, you and Shock did."
"Yes," I said; "but--"
"There, come and let's see," he said gruffly. "We should look well, wetwo, going back home without a cart, and old Bonyparty took away and cutup for goodness knows what and his skin made into leather. Come along."
We walked quickly, for it seemed as if this was going to be a day allmisfortunes; but as we reached the market again I found that Ike had notleft the cart untended, for a man was there by the horse, and the bigwhip curved over in safety from where it was stuck.
"Seen anything of our other boy?" said Ike as we reached the cart.
"No," was the reply.
"Hadn't we better go back and look for him?" I said anxiously.
"Well, I don't know," said Ike, rubbing one ear; "he ain't so muchconsequence as you."
"I've been to Paris and I've been to Do-ho-ver."
"Why, there he is," I cried; and, climbing up the wheel, there lay Shockon his back right on the top of the baskets, and as soon as he saw myface he grinned and then turned his back.
"He's all right," I said as I descended; and just then there was acreaking noise among the baskets, and Shock's head appeared over theedge.
"Here y'are," he cried. "That there tumbled out o' window, and Iketched it and brought it here."
As he spoke he threw down the coil of nearly new rope, and I felt sodelighted that I could have gone up to him and shaken hands.
"Well, that's a good un, that is," said Ike with a chuckle. "I am 'boutfine and glad o' that."
He took the rope and tied it up to the ladder again, and then turned tome.
"Come along and get some breakfast, my lad," he said. "I dessay you'refine and hungry."
"But how about Shock?"
"Oh, we'll send him out some. Here, you, Shock, look after the cart andhorse. Don't you leave 'em," Ike added to the man; and then we made ourway to a coffee-house, where Ike's first act, to my great satisfaction,was to procure a great mug of coffee and a couple of rolls, which heopened as if they had been oysters, dabbed a lump of butter in each, andthen put under his arm.
"He don't deserve 'em," he growled, "for coming; but he did show mewhere you was."
"And he saved the rope," I said.
Ike nodded.
"You sit down till I come back, my lad," he said; and then he went off,to return in a few minutes to face me at a table where we were r
egaledwith steaming coffee and grilled haddocks.
"This is the best part of the coming to market, my lad," he said, "onlyit's a mistake."
"What is?" I asked.
"Haddocks, my lad. They're a trickier kind o' meat than bloaters. Iordered this here for us 'cause it seemed more respectable like, as I'dgot company, than herrin'; but it's a mistake."
"But this is very nice," I said, beginning very hungrily upon the hotroll and fish, but with a qualm in my mind as to how it was to be paidfor.
"Ye-es," said Ike, after saying "soup" very loudly as he took a long sipof his coffee; "tidyish, my lad, tidyish, but you see one gets eddicatedto a herring, and knows exactly where every bone will be. These thingsseems as if the bones is all nowhere and yet they're everywhere all thetime, and so sure as you feel safe and take a bite you find a sharppynte, just like a trap laid o' purpose to ketch yer."
"Well, there are a good many little bones, certainly," I said.
"Good many! Thick as slugs after a shower. There's one again, sharp asa needle. Wish I'd a red herrin', that I do."
"I say, Ike," I said suddenly, as I was in the middle of my breakfast,"I wish I could make haste and grow into a man."
"Do you, now?" he said with a derisive laugh. "Ah! I shouldn't wonder.If you'd been a man I s'pose you'd have pitched all those rough uns outo' window, eh?"
"I should have liked to be able to take care of myself," I said.
"Without old Ike, eh, my lad?"
"I don't mean that," I said; "only I should like to be a man."
"Instead o' being very glad you're a boy with everything fresh andbright about you. Red cheeks and clean skin and all your teeth, and allthe time to come before you, instead of having to look back and thinkyou're like an old spade--most wore out."
"Oh, but you're so strong, Ike! I should like to be a man."
"Like to be a boy, my lad, and thank God you are one," said old Ike,speaking as I had never heard him speak before. "It's natur', I s'pose.All boys wishes they was men, and when they're men they look back onthat happiest time of their lives when they was boys and wishes it couldcome over again."
"Do they, Ike?" I said.
"I never knew a man who didn't," said Ike, making the cups dance on thetable by giving it a thump with his fist. "Why, Master Grant, I waskicked about and hit when I was a boy more'n ever a boy was before, butall that time seems bright and sunshiny to me."
"But do you think Shock's happy?" I said; "he's a boy, and has no oneto care about him."
"Happy! I should just think he is. All boys has troubles that theyfeels bad at the time, but take 'em altogether they're as happy as canbe. Shock's happy enough his way or he wouldn't have been singing allnight atop of the load. There, you're a boy, and just you be thankfulthat you are, my lad; being a boy's about as good a thing as there is."
We had nearly finished our breakfast when Ike turned on me sharply.
"Why, you don't look as if you was glad to be a boy," he said.
"I was thinking about what Mr Brownsmith will say when he knows I'vebeen in such trouble," I replied.
"Ah, he won't like it! But I suppose you ain't going to tell him?"
"Yes," I said, "I shall tell him."
Ike remained silent for a few minutes, and sat slowly filling his pipe.
At last, as we rose to go, after Ike had paid the waitress, he said tome slowly:
"Sometimes doing right ain't pleasant and doing wrong is. It's quiteright to go and tell Old Brownsmith and get blowed up, and it would bequite wrong not to tell him, but much the nystest. Howsoever, you tellhim as soon as we get back. He can't kill yer for that, and I don'ts'pose he'll knock yer down with the kitchen poker and then kick youout. You've got to risk it."
I did tell Old Brownsmith all my trouble when we reached home, and helistened attentively and nodding his head sometimes. Then he saidsoftly, "Ah!" and that was all.
But I heard him scold Master Shock tremendously for going off from hiswork without leave.
Shock had been looking on from a distance while I was telling OldBrownsmith, and this put it into his head, I suppose, that I had beenspeaking against him, for during the next month he turned his backwhenever he met me, and every now and then, if I looked up suddenly, itwas to see him shaking his fist at me, while his hair seemed to stand upmore fiercely than ever out of his crownless straw hat like youngrhubarb thrusting up the lid from the forcing-pot put on to draw thestalks.
Brownsmith's Boy: A Romance in a Garden Page 17
